#WHITENESS DOES NOT AUTOMATICALLY EQUAL BEAUTY

[yourheartinyourmouth]

the 1970s are over, you don’t have to get a nose job to get a husband anymore (you don’t need a husband!)

please your face is so beautiful with its natural features you don’t need to look more central european

hate hate hate rhinoplasty ads that target jewish people (esp jewish women). jewish women your noses are great dont listen to people who want to use antisemitism to profit off of your insecurities

[necroticblue]

does anyone have any good reading recommendations about degendering/malgendering? also the way that under the patriarchy, a "weird" (read: neurodivergent) / physically disabled / POC / not confronting to the beauty standards girl is seen as a different gender than a conventionally pretty / abled / white / neurotypical girl? I've been thinking about it a lot. fat men with facial acne are automatically seen as a different gender than a thin / buff guy with clear skin in our head, because we were taught these things equal goodness, almost that these things equal proper humanity. I learned the terms from people of color I think, but after rotating the ideas in my head like a 3d model of a cow, they linked to "metrosexuals" and feminine men and masculine women and the fact that our current society doesn't really have a binary viewing of societal gender, we just don't have the right words to describe it

[lovebugspots]

welcome to the helicarrier, barnes

info: welcome to the helicarrier, barnes

chapter one; a lover of past.

-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆

"You will welcome Barnes kindly, and this is directed to you, Stark" Fury had said plainly, all Tony could do was roll his eyes and scoff loudly. "You hear me?" Fury had barked out, with another signature Tony Stark eye roll he nodded.

"Yeah, yeah be nice to the man who killed my mom and dad." All Bucky could do was look down in shame but Natasha put a hand on his shoulder and mumbled to him in Russian.

"Ignore his ass." He chuckled softly and nodded, still being as quiet as ever.

"Since we are all here right now, I have a mission for you, Romanoff." Fury turned to the Black widow and she nodded, her beautiful red curls bouncing slightly.

"Hit me." She said firmly, they all look at the war table and a small hologram of a woman, no older than 30 popped up. Bucky's eyes widen slightly and he turned to Natasha and said to her n Russian.

"That can't be...is it her?" Natasha was equally shocked but hid it more. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked back up at Fury and into his one singular eye.

"Y/n Agapov, known as the Winter Widow was selected by HYDRA to create the first and only other successful Winter Soldier besides Barnes, she was in the Red Room. And you knew her, Romanoff." The head of S.H.E.I.L.D stated to the group of men and women, all Bucky could do, was stare at her delicate features. It was almost like yesterday, when he first met her.

"Romanoff, you leave tomorrow night and head to Washington D.C. There have been multiple reports of random deaths and we think its her, you will take her here into custody of S.H.I.E.L.D. I do not care how you do so, we need her here. You have a week to find her" Fury looked at her and she nodded.

"Yes sir." She said firmly and Fury nodded in apporval.

"Good, then you all are dismissed. Oh, Rodgers, held Barnes set up his room." Steve nodded and everyone walked off, Bruce to one of the labs, Tony to his room, Natasha to the training room, and the others all out and about on the helicarrier.

"Thanks, Steve. Y'know, for clearing my name." Bucky said softly, his eyes on his best friends ocean blue eyes as he chuckes and puts his hand on Bucky's right shoulder.

"Of course, jerk." He chuckles and Bucky just rolled his eyes. They walked through the automatic doors and into another part of the large jet that had another war table, but for them to look at bounties and such, they walk up a small flight of stairs and next to Steves room there was a small sign above the door that said 'Sgt. Barnes.'

Bucky puts his flesh hand on the small hand scanner and walked inside to see a plain room, no decoration but just a small desk, bed, bathroom and a closet.

"You can get stuff you want, ask Tony-" Bucky looked at him and raised his eyebrows.

"I won't be askin' him for anothin'..." He mumbled and Steve sighed and looked around and saw his clothes, all plain red, white and black Henley's, dark blue or black jeans, one brown leather jacket, his gloves and a black hat.

"Buck, you gotta get creative. And with your clothes too." Steve mumbled and Bucky rolled his eyes and walked over to his closet.

"Whats is wrong with my choice of apparel?"

"Who says apparel?"

"Me, punk."

Steve rolled his eyes and turned around to walk out.

"I'll be at the main deck, you get situated." Steve gave a warm smile and walked out, the automatic door shutting behind him. Bucky sighed and sat down on his bed, thinking. Something he does to much nowadays. -͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆

three days later

She had blood splattered on her face as she showered, her body littered in scars as the hot water trickled down her bare body. She heard faint scratching noises, she knew damn well it was Natasha.

"I do hope you know that its rude to break into someone apartment while they shower." She said firmly and Natasha froze, she walked to the door with her gun in hand and opens the door to find Y/n in her towel, her hair dripping wet and her body glistening.

She had a pistol in her hand and Natasha just gave a small grin.

"Well I just wanted to see my old friend."

"Oh really? Why do you have your S.H.E.I.L.D uniform on, hm?" The woman snapped back, her y/e/c eyes dark, not showing any emotion.

"Listen, I'm here to recruit you."

'That's a lie.'

Y/n scoffed and said in Russian.

"They already have their hands full. Why the hell would they want me." Her voice was sharp, and dark. she circled around Natasha and eventually put her gun down and walked to her room."Natalia, you know they don't want another assassin." She added on in Russian and Natasha sighed and walked with her, also putting her gun down.

"It's complicated, but please, I just want you to do this one thing for me one last time then I won't ask for any more favors." She responded and Y/n sighed and takes her towel off and puts her clothes on. A simple pair of black sweats and a Mayhem shirt.

"Fine, only if you promise me that this is the last thing you ask of me for a while." Y/n turned to look at Natasha and she nodded.

"Promise."

Y/n smiled then hugged Natasha, her arms wrapped around her chest. Natasha could smell her perfume, the mango and grapefruit and tonka bean filed her senses.

"You still wear Ed Hardy?" Natasha sassed playfully and Y/n rolled her eyes at her comment but grins nonetheless.

"Yeah, you got a problem with it Natalia?" She snapped back playfully and Natasha pulled away and gave smile, a genuine smile.

"No, just weird how you have been wearing the same perfume for the past 8 years." Natasha shrugged and looked around Y/n's apartment and saw all her Miss me jeans, her plain black, white and sage green long sleeves. "God and your style is still the same, you still wear these horrendous shirts that never show off anything?" Y/n rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Natalia. But they show my figure!" Y/n whines and Natasha rolled her eyes dramatically and looked at her.

"You wanna head out right now so we can get this over with?" The red-head questioned and Y/n nodded while grabbed her pistol and puts it in her purse.

"I guess." She smiled at her old friend they walk out of her apartment. -͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆

Once they got to the massive helicarrier, several agents all tackled Y/n.

"Y/n I'm sorry..." Natasha mumbled and Y/n looked up at her as they tranquilize her with sedatives that would kill the average human.

"N-Natalia-" she mumbled before her hit the floor, everything went black.

The S.H.I.E.L.D agents all drag the Winter Widow into a cell and lock her up with metal cuffs and inside a glass case. Similar to the one Bucky was in once. All the Avengers plus Fury and Agent Maria hill were in the room with the locked up assasin.

Bucky's eyes were wide with shock as he looked at her unconscious body, he hated seeing her, or anyone in that damn cell.

"Why do we have to lock her up? Can't we just talk like normal people?" Sam asked and turned to Fury.

"We don't know what the hell she'll do. She could be agreeing, then murder us all in our sleep." Fury muttered sarcastically, right as he said that her eyes started to flutter open. "Well good morning Mrs. Agapov! I hope Romanoff didn't give you too much trouble." Fury stated in his usual sarcastic tone.

"What the hell do you want from me?!" Y/n yelled as she looked around, her eyes landing on Bucky and she stops everything and whispers in Russian "James..?"

His eyes widen, her voice was so soft, and angelic it made him weak in the knees. It was almost prayer-like. All he wanted was for her to break free and be happy, not be here, caged.

"Oh my god..." He mumbled and Fury looked at Y/n.

"I see you know Barnes as well, how?" He asked as he circled the caged woman, his one eye burning into her soul.

"Why should I tell you?" She asked, her eyes were cold, and sharp. It made everyone except Fury feel uneasy.

"Because we are debating whether locking you up or not." She scoffed and sat back, her eyes not looking away for one second.

"Should I, James?" She questioned him in Russian, all he did was shrug.

"Leave out the bloody parts, nobody wants to hear that," He responded and Fury rolled his eye.

"Any day now, Mrs. Agapov." He barked and she rolled her eyes and said firmly.

"He trained me and Natalia in the Red Room. We had become...good friends. He taught me how to fight, and he is why I was chosen for the Winter Soldier program and was given Super Soldier serum." She stated simply, and Bucky nodded when Fury looked at him for confirmation.

"I see, well, Mrs. Agapov, we think we could use you for the greater good of this world. So I have a deal." Fury looked at the woman and she nodded. "We will clear your name and all information of you being in the Red Room, only if you agree to become one of us. Whether it would be a S.H.I.E.L.D agent of Avenger."

She bit her lip, thinking. She nodded and Fury stood up.

"Good, now, for now you will have to share a room with Barnes. We will get you a room in a week." She nodded and Fury motions for the agents to start unlocking her, but she felt Bucky’s eyes in her, not that she minded how he looked at her so adoringly…

Once she got out of the metal and glass cell she walked over to bucky and smiled softly.

“James…” she mumbled softly and he smiled. His eyes where filled with happiness. -͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆

DATE; UNKNOWN

The woman and man were leaning on one another, her soft y/h/c locks cascading down her shoulders, his chocolate brown hair in a small pony-tail and his head was on hers. His eyes shut as so were hers and he whispers to her in Russian.

"Darling...I..." He started but she looked up at kisses his chin and mumbled to him.

"I know, James..." She started, she sighed and looked back up at him. "I'm afraid too...I-I don't want to forget you..." All he could do was sigh and put his hand on her head and run his hands through her soft hair. He presses a soft kiss on her temple and mumbled into her hair.

"No matter what, I will find you. Or you find me...Either way, we will find each other, no matter what my love" He looked down at her and she smiles softly and sat up a bit, looking into his eyes and letting the night take them away... -͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆

"I guess you were right about finding each other once again..." She muttered out and walked closer to him, he wore his white Henley, a brown leather jacket, dark blue jeans and a small black baseball cap.

He smiles and puts his metal hand on her right hand and motions for her to follow him.

"C'mon, дорогой, your stayin' with me for the first bit." He smiles a big goofy grin, like a school boy who is showing his crush something. She just giggles and followed her as well, like a lovesick puppy (which she always was one after she met Bucky)

They walked out of the chamber and up to the main hallway, and into the area with privte quarters and to his room that was labeled with 'Sgt. Barnes.' He used his flesh and and the two walked inside. She looked around the extremly plain room and looked at him.

"James, why...why so plain?" She asked and he let out a hearty chuckle as he sat down on his bed.

"I just moved in, дорогой." He teased lightly and she just rulled her eyes and plopped down on his bed next to him and laid on his tummy. "Oh c'mon, fallin' asleep on me already?" He teased more, his soft and husky voice rining through her ears.

'I swear to god that voice does something to me.' Y/n had thought to herself but she stuck her tongue out at hi and he mirrored her actions as he takes his jacket off.

"You have clothes?" She shakes her head.

"No, but I can sleep in this-" bucky cut her off by throwing her a random shirt and his boxers.

"Jus' wear my clothes. And don't think I don't know about the stress sweat you got while they locked you up doll." She blushed bashfuy and chuckles softly.

"You know me better than I know myself apperently." She teased lightly and takes his clothes and walked to the small bathroom and closed the sliding door to change.

Bucky just smiled and changed himself, he wore a simple pair of grey sweatpants and a white tank top. He sat on the floor and laid down, still not used to his bed. She walked out, the shirt coming to her thighs and the boxers hiding her most sacred and intimate parts of her body

But god she was still beautiful in his eyes.

And if anyone thought his girl wasn't beautiful they are batshit crazy to think that. Because his girl was perfect.

She sat down next to him and mumbles into his chest as she leans into him.

"Still don't sleep on a bed?" She questioned as her voiced was muffled by his chest and he chuckles as he wrapped his arm around her waist and picked her up and puts her on his bed and checkles as she rolled her eyes.

"James..." She whined and he rolled his eyes as he plopped on top of her, earing a loud groan of displeasure from her. "Your an ass, you know that right?" She said sarcastically and pushed him off of her, using her strength.

"Oh I do." He teased and looked at the woman he is so absolutely fucking in love with. All the times he would rant about his mysterious woman to both poor Natasha and Steve, the hours and hours of him just rambling about her beauty...how poor Wanda accidentally tapped into his mind and saw him having sex with her.

To which she never recovered and nobody knows.

She rolled her eyes and pulled on his flesh arm and dragged him into his bed. Once he finally laid down she mumbled softly.

“Are we moving to quickly…? I mean, Im not complaining it’s just…”

he cut her off and said softly.

“Maybe we are, but I missed you so damn much.” His blue eyes looked into hers and she just chuckles lightly and puts her head on his chest.

“Alright…and are we gonna have to keep this a secret, James?” she questioned and he shrugged.

“Unless you want the whole team to know then yeah. I would tell Steve but he can’t keep a secret for the life of him.” she rolled her eyes and snuggled into him and he happily wrapped both his bionic and flesh hand around her body.

She looked up at him and she smiled, he truly was her light at the end of a tunnel. He was everything, and anything to her. They way his sharp eyes were always soft and tender when he looked at her.

“Then a secret it is…” she mumbled into his chest, all he did was smile and hold her. Yeah, they did once love each other, but he felt like it was to fast just to jump back in.

But then again, they never had the freedom to do as they wished, never able to snuggle with one another to sleep, be able to talk freely in-front of others.

Yes, they want to be in secret (or just private) but they could finally talk, just talk about nonsense. Be able to see one another in their truest form.

Maybe being an Avenger won't be so bad after all... -͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆-͟͟͞☆

[seishiroses]

All of Nagi's cosmic aura moments from the Episode Nagi trailer! ⬇️

(Nagi's aura colours have always made me so curious so a few thoughts on that and the animation in general.)

1. Hakuho vs Aomori Dadada

I'm very excited to see this match animated as we can assume it's the first time he's playing in a high stakes faceoff (if we cross out that in-house volleyball game from his light novel anyway). This shot looks good to me and it's interesting that there's this dark aura around him but it's not quite as vivid as it becomes in blue lock.

2. Hakuho vs. Aomori Dadada

I have to say I like this image way better in the manga than here. Similarly to the previous frame, the aura flare in his eye here is not as vivid as the other one we see later in the trailer.

2. Blue Lock First Selection (Team V)

This shot is where the aura colours really start to pop and take on the cosmic hue that the author has mentioned in interviews. I'm excited to see if there's a certain point at which this happens.

3. Conversation with Ego before entering Blue Lock

Chronologically this happens before the previous aura moment in the trailer. This is a super important moment in the manga since it's the first time we see Nagi's skull aura and it also captures how self aware and confident he is of his abilities (or a superiority complex if you prefer). This looks quite similar to the manga panel. The blue, white, black and purple shades merging into each other make this frame very ominous since we don't quite know at this point in the story how dangerous of a player he is (unless we have watched the anime/read the main manga of course!)

4. Blue Lock First Selection Team V

Honestly, I don't like this shot at all. We can see the aura colours are strong but the aura itself could be a lot better animated and blended in. But sometimes they do put half done shots in trailers so I'll be crossing my fingers anyway (This is just a little criticism as an avid anime watcher, not like I'd be able to animate any of this stuff).

5. Blue Lock First Selection (Team V)

I think this shot is way better. The aura colours look beautiful and really bring out his eyes against all the white/light colours around them. They definitely convey the idea of an "awakening".

6. Hakuho (last shot of the trailer)

I loved that this shot ended the trailer! It looked very cool (any shot of Nagi kicking a ball is automatically very cool imo) and while this does not have the cosmic aura it does have this dark misty black around him which looks equally great I think. (I wonder if there's any truth to his aura getting darker and darker over time since his character colour is black but that's just me thinking out loud I guess.)

And that's all of them.

I know there are already very compelling theories around how the skull aura has been changing and what it means based on how Nagi's ego has been evolving/devolving over time and it might be obsessive to look super closely at the animation to find more clues. But also, this is a character who is still searching for his true ego/motivation over 250ish whole chapters of the main manga so how can you not. (Also I LOVE NAGI and it's just fun that is enough reason ok now I'm just talking to myself...I mean I'm always doing that...)

[cosmicangst]

Hello! Do you have any favorite romance novels to recommend that are not YA? Thanks!

OH THE PANDORAS BOX YOUVE OPENED ANON ehem a not so exhaustive list

historical romance (this is my main genre so there's more books here)

bringing down the duke and a rogue of one's own by evie dunmore - part of a series but both can be read as stand-alones. victorian period ft suffragettes. the second one in particular is my absolute favorite. it's very Gender with an insouciant dandy and an ambitious activist leader, both lonely and stubborn.

the brothers sinister series (especially the countess conspiracy) and the turner trilogy by courtney milan - will admit i read these books a bit ago so i don't remember much of the details only to say that courtney is a brilliant romance writer so i automatically trust her any time i read her books. she makes the unromantic very romantic in a very grounded way. for example in one of the brothers sinister books, the couple has sex for the first time and it turns out to be understandably mediocre. but this becomes a starting off point that actually brings them closer together. i just love the touch of realism and imperfection she brings in a genre that's built off of heightened emotions and almost fantastical perfection in relationships.

the devil comes courting by courtney milan - separate rec because this is part of another series which i haven't fully read yet. but i just had to add this because i find it remarkably unique among the genre. the events span years (rather than the shortened time frame of most romance novels) and a large part of the courtship is epistolary. it's also interracial and does not feature a white person! (heroine is chinese and hero is black.) one of those hr books that is equally historical fiction as it is romance and explores a period that i think hasn't been touched upon as much yet.

a week to be wicked by tessa dare - the best romcom-y hr ive read! it's a zany road trip with a romance that happens so gradually it really does sneak up on you which is the best kind.

the belle of belgrave square by mimi matthews - marriage of convenience. read this recently and every plot beat was absolutely perfect. the reveals, the commitment between them, everything just made sense. nothing was extraneous.

convergence of desire by felicity niven - also marriage of convenience. I LOVE THIS HEROINE. she's on the spectrum and he has a toxic relationship to sex. he is absolutely not attracted to her in the beginning but the honesty she gives to him while she pursues her own ambitions has him absolutely at her feet by the end.

my deceitful duchess by aydra richards - nerdy virgin ass hero which is a breath of fresh air from all these alpha males. has one of the best grovels over a misunderstanding that absolutely makes sense and isn't contrived 👌👌👌

when beauty tamed the beast by eloisa james - read this a long time ago but this is the first romance book i read so i have a lot of fondness over it. a kind-of retelling of beauty and the beast. top notch banter.

suddenly you by lisa kleypas - older heroine and younger hero! virgin spinster and novelist starts a fwb relationship with her publisher. a bit dated but still a fun read.

devil in winter by lisa kleypas - oh very dated but a classic amongst the romance community. marriage of convenience. the hero sebastian is both loved and reviled (and rightfully so i think) by his readers but i just have so much fondness for evie and the way she absolutely does not give a shit about how intimidating he is.

a rogue by any other name by sarah maclean - childhood friends reunite years later. read this a loooong time ago and i don't remember much except he does the absolute most to push her away because of Revenge reasons and the fallout from that is delicious

a lady's guide to fortune hunting by sophie irwin - MY CURRENT LOVE. enemies to lovers with my favorite heroine. she is cunning and scheming and absolutely shameless without being a complete asshole. the hero is also equally savvy enough to match her wit and catch onto her grift. the interplay between them of trying to outscheme the other is hilarious and delightful.

contemporary:

georgie, all along by kate clayborn - sweet, slow romance where the drama happens around the couple rather than between them except for the very end and even that is handled pretty maturely. not a big fan of third act breakups in general unless it's for a very good reason so this one sidesteps that by not prolonging it.

against a wall by cate c. wells - small town enemies to lovers. one of those read with your pussy books. hero is kind of a dumb brick but he knows it and owns it and i admire him for it. heroine is the town pariah and spoilers he literally fights the whole town for her sake. get you a man!

the kiss quotient and the bride test by helen hoang - both feature leads on the spectrum. i've seen criticism regarding how she handles neurodivergent characters but reading her author's note, i can tell she definitely pulls a lot from her own experiences being on the spectrum herself so i don't really understand the crit tbh. kind of veers to melodrama a little at the very end but i eat that shit up

the hating game by sally thorne - overexposed now in the rec circles but still a mainstay for a reason. enemies to lovers workplace romance with two leads that are kind of deranged which i love. great prose, great banter.

the billionaire's wake-up call girl by annika martin - billionaires have no rights but just suspend your head for a sec. they could have made him a millionaire and functionally nothing would've changed. anyway also a yummy enemies to lovers with a case of mistaken identity.

well met by jen deluca - kind of like georgie, all along in that the heart of it is just two very normal people falling in love in a very normal way that feels true to life. setting is a renaissance fair which is delightful.

kiss an angel by susan elizabeth phillips - dated as all hell and has some troubling parts with a batshit premise. but the last several chapters honestly make the book and i reread it from time to time so im obligated to include it on this list.

bass-ackwards by eris adderly - okay TW on workplace harassment BUT JUST READ PAST CHAPTER TWO I PROMISE. if it's still not your cup of tea totally understand but anyway... er, workplace romance.

people we meet on vacation by emily henry - ive described this book before as when harry meets sally if harry and sally were making a travelogue. the best friends to lovers pining is actually painful.

other/kinda out there:

radiance by grace draven - arranged marriage interspecies romance! i love this one because both of them thinks the other is actually very ugly so they fall in love purely through their friendship.

transcendence by shay savage - OK LMAO hear me out: caveman and a modern human sent back in time due to shenanigans all from the caveman's pov. the premise is batshit and it's obvious which fandom this was originally a fanfic for if you think about it for more than a second but this author makes it work???? have no fucking clue how she did it but by god she absolutely did

last light by claire kent - apocalypse romance. kind of road trip with survival elements. again i just love unlikely romances where the couple isn't that attracted to each other from the start and having that gradually change through time in a way thats not signposting to the audience.

ghost walk by cassandra gannon - funniest shit ever. ghost who died in the revolutionary era meets a psychic who works as a walking tour guide and recovering from a nervous breakdown. absolutely ridiculous and over the top. insta love which i normally dont like but this was so campy and fun i didn't even care

all cishet but you can find my queer recs here

[4th-make-quail]

helloooo!!! Hope you've had a wonderful day so far :)

for the soft asks 8, 9, and 13 <3

Hallo! Sorry this took so long, every time I remembered I was on my phone and it's a pain to try remember or copy/paste the questions XD

8. tag someone (or multiple people) who make you feel good.

This is very difficult to quantify and I always feel awkward tagging people AHHHHH /o\ so I'm just gonna say anyone who comments on my fics or rambles about ship stuff with me! Thank u for enabling my madness hehe

9. what calms you down?

Music! My giant weeb shit playlist always comforts my soul. Other than that, there's a playlist I really relied on one year when I was having horrific headaches and now it's like an automatic calming effect - TPR's Final Fantasy Melancholy Collection. He does absolutely beautiful melancholy piano arrangements of final fantasy songs, I highly recommend him if anyone is into FF OSTs!! He's doing more lofi stuff lately as The Silent Protagonist, which is also equally good!

13. what’s your comfort food?

Because I have so many stomach issues, food intolerances as well as being a Picky Eater with texture and flavour issues, I'm a super basic bitch and it's honestly plain chicken and rice 😭😭 I know it's so fucking basic white person, but chicken pan fried with salt over rice cooked in low fodmap stock is just my go to food when I'm having stomach flare ups. Massels 7s stock cubes are my fucking saviours I tell u what!!

[blackjackkent]

Larroakan's body collapses to the floor, spasming as the impact of Rolan's magic missle bursts through him. His eyes are rolling in his head, his skin pale.

Aylin stands over him, the pure light of Selune's holy radiance haloing her entire body.

"Lorroakan!" she roars. "You who would see me caged! You who would purchase my submission with profane gold!"

Lorroakan stares up at her, the whites showing in his eyes. All the confidence and casual scorn is gone; all that remains is the terror of prey caught in a trap. He knows at last, in this moment before his death, that - like Balthazar before him - he has tried to control something beyond mortal understanding, and that the retribution is inescapable.

She bends down, lifts him in her arms, hoists him above her head like a prizefighter with a trophy.

"Let every wicked magus, every vial murtherer, each slaver and misery-merchant see!" she bellows. Her voice echoes to the tower's rafters, resonates through the walls. "Dame Aylin is watching! She is indomitable! And when her face lights the shadows of your wrongdoing, you are broken by its beauty!"

Her arms swing downwards, dropping Lorroakan's body so his spine cracks across her knee. He goes limp, his eyes rolling back in his head, and when she lets him fall to the bloodsoaked carpet, he does not stir again.

Hector watches her in silence. He feels much as he did when he watched her wreak her vengeance upon Ketheric Thorm. This display of rage is unnecessary; Lorroakan was already dying. It is not pleasant or easy to watch, and he knows deep down that it is a reflection of the same hotheaded recklessness that Isobel worried about - a manifestation not of Selune's divinity but the aasimar's own battered, broken flesh and mind.

But he would no more find it in himself to stop her than Lorroakan could to control her. She is the child of his goddess, and she is safe. Lorroakan will not hurt her, or Rolan, or anyone else again. Perhaps that is enough.

-----

After a long, long silence, he takes a few steps forward, stands at her side wordlessly.

"The fire-haired fool is dead," she mutters. Her voice is ragged - and not just with exertion but emotion, as he has rarely heard from her before. "Yet as I stare upon his corpse, I feel... sadness. Why?"

She turns sharply to face him, silently demanding an answer.

Hector blinks, startled. That Aylin has spoken to him as an equal has always been mind-boggling enough to him. But now... she is asking him for advice. No-- for counsel. He, who rarely knows even how to manage his own emotions, being asked for help and insight by the centuries-old child of a goddess.

"What kind of sadness is it?" he asks cautiously.

She shakes her head uncertainly. "A gripping in the chest," she mutters. "As though I'd lost someone. Something."

A pause. Then she shakes herself. He recognizes the motion - the putting aside of the feelings too complicated to name or to voice, the forced control. "A paladin's fatigue, no doubt." Her voice lightens deliberately and she reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder. "You were excellent in battle, as is your way. And I am proud to fight at your side."

He inclines his head automatically in gratitude, but his eyes don't quite leave hers. In spite of her changing the subject, he knows that what she said was not arbitrary. And it matches with the concerns Isobel expressed. Aylin is tired, worn down and beaten by what she has been through, and she has not been given time to heal.

She is closer to human than god in this moment, he realizes suddenly. And he has treated her as more than either, and it is a disservice to her.

He reaches up, takes her hand from his shoulder and holds it in both of his firmly for a moment. Her eyebrows lift in an expression of mild surprise. Then she smiles slightly, her expression easing, and gives his hand an answering squeeze.(*)

"And you. Tiefling," she adds suddenly to Rolan, pulling her eyes away from Hector's. "You did not embarrass yourself."

Rolan doesn't look at her; his gaze is still fixed on his master's body on the floor.

Aylin waits. When she receives no response, she shrugs, lets out a heavy breath, and looks back to Hector again. "I will catch my breath," she says gravely. "Then to camp I will bring my bones. Moonmaiden be with you."

-----

* Artistic license. Just a lil growth moment. c:

[philanthropicfeline]

I choose empathy

My thoughts and feelings on current life changing events.

So it's hard to not talk about the war happening in Gaza. Even calling it a war may not even be appropriate.

The following things I write are in no means meant to be disrespectful in any way, shape or form towards any person. I feel for the people, all people. That's where my heart has always been and will always remain.

I had a conversation with a family member about the war. He is very opinionated (and i mean that in the nicest way possible) and he stated where he stands and that he strongly felt one way was the right way. There is only one right side. Then he starts stating "facts" about history. Now one thing about me, I love history. I read what I can, with an open mind and I try to understand where things went wrong; but most importantly, I try to learn from history and accept it. Of course, there's the matter of narrative so I also take that into consideration. So back to the conversation, all I did was mention that there is more to everything in this "conflict" and I acknowledge the history and pain on both "sides". As I was making my "argument" he gets agitated and says "what's your point? why does that even matter? So your saying you don't care about the people truly suffering? wow that's selfish of you, but then again you are pretty much like that..."

I am not very eloquent or articulate. Arguments and confrontations are not my thing. I usually back down and accept the narrative that is put upon me. That's also something I could work on, my communication and gathering of thoughts. My response to everything was that I acknowledge the pain for everyone. But I guess that was interpreted as being an apologist. That was the end of that. But there was definitely more to it. There always is!

So instead of sounding stupid and ignorant to people, I want to write down the exact position my heart is in and where its coming from. I never want to hurt another human being. Humans are complex and humanity wants to thrive. The future generations deserve a chance at life and experiencing the complicated beauty that is life. People are grieving. People have the right to grieve and it's truly a privilege to grieve in peace, with peace. I also know how it feels to have your grief and loss invalidated. During high school, my godfather passed away tragically and painfully. I took it harder than I thought and more than I'll ever admit to. But as I grieved, bullies questioned my grief and even denied my godfather's existence. I was young, so I never felt anguish and pain like that before. That's a pain far different than anything I had ever experienced. As much as I had wanted to hate those who snuffed out the memories of a remarkable man, I wrote notes to God and promised to never be as cruel as that. I vowed to never inflict pain like that on anyone. What I'm trying to say is that, just because I acknowledge the pain and struggles of all people, it does not mean I automatically "choose a side". I was taught to embrace all people, to love and bless them. I'm not perfect by any means and nor is my moral standing better than the next, I just hope that my actions speak far louder than my words ever will.

Will writing all of this change anything happening out there? No. But again, I wish people could understand that my silence doesn't equal ignorance. Physically, i do what I can to help those vulnerable and in need.

I acknowledge that the fact that I am able to write all of this and even state my opinions without worrying about losing my life, is a privilege within itself. My heart is grieving, but I know that it doesn't compare to those living this hellish nightmare of war and even the fear of extermination. My grief will never compare. The yearning to grieve doesn't mean condoning the wrongdoings of governments. Is it wrong to want to stand for life? It's not a black and white situation. I had a dear friend (who has since passed) and she taught me to reach out for the ones who fall through the cracks. She taught me to look and listen to the ones who feel invisible and voiceless. I will take her words with me beyond this lifetime. I learned that you don't need a label or title or even a reason to help others. You go out there and do it! I went out there and I listened to the voices of those around me. There are so many who feel helpless and invisible in my city. I do what I can to give hope, no matter how small that light may be, the least i can do is acknowledge the person's life, presence and struggles. That's where I stand. I stand for the chance at life and I will truly try my best to fight for a peaceful one at that, as naive as that may sound. It's just a bit disheartening to know that my views on what's happening in the world, will be interpreted as heartless and selfish.

While the frustration inside me bubbles and the constant need to prove myself festers... I had a talk with my best friend. I see her as my sister. She is more directly connected to the conflict in the middle east with some family and friends who live there. She reminded me that there are bigger things at play and that we do the best we can with what we are given. She is one of the voices of reason that I hold so dear.

(*Side note* UGHHHH I LOVE HER SO MUCH <3)

In this situation, how I feel doesn't matter. Everyday lives are lost unnecessarily, I just want to be able to help humanity in any way I can. I choose life and empathy. That's where my heart lies.

The following link is to an article that I can relate to and perhaps explains my feelings in a more articulate and educated way.

[feministfang]

CALM THE FUCK DOWN Y’ALL IMBECILES!!

"WhIte pEoPle jUst tHouGht oF eVEryOne eLse aS sUbhUmAn" lmfaoo what the fuck do u mean by this stupidest statement?? Were they born with a racist personality?? Is being racist their soul purpose??

Racism exists due to socialisation. No one was born believing that people of colour are inferior to white people. But some of you act like they do.

And pleaseee!! don’t compare white women’s racist behaviour with men’s misogyny. Men are also trash by nature, not just due to socialisation. Men deserve all the hatred in this world. A man’s hatred for women will never be equal to a white woman’s hatred for a woc. And that hatred does not exclude white women. They hate all women the same way. There is no such thing as "pretty privilege", "white privilege", or any other privilege when it comes to female oppression under the patriarchy.

And this is why racist white women do not deserve to be victims of male misogyny even if they do deserve all other kind of hatred and criticism. As a south asian woman, if i ever experience racism from a white woman, i would still try to protect her from misogyny no matter how much i despise her.

That’s the point of this post. But some of you get so defensive and find everything racist where white women are being supported even to the slightest and also think the person supporting her is white. (I am not tho 💁🏻‍♀️) I even got labelled "a racist white girl" because i defended Hailey Bieber from cyber bullying and it’s so obvious her retarded haters weren’t attacking me because of racism.

I would also choose a white woman over a man of colour in any situation because she’s a woman. In fact, i despise all brown/black men as much as i despise white men. And I HAVE stood against brown men from my own country who were posting misogynistic memes about white women because these women were racist towards these men. I didn’t give a fuck if those men’s feelings were hurt or whatever, they should all die anyway. And if you find it racist, then that’s your problem and you can cry about it. A man of colour will never be more oppressed than a white woman.

But the fact that some of you would still coddle these men’s feelings over supporting a woman because they belong to your race’s community but not her is the exact reason why RACISM WAS CREATED TO DIVIDE WOMEN. All groups/communities were created to divide women, not humans. Race, religions, countries, cultures etc. are all products of patriarchy. Scientifically/naturally there is only one race and that is human race.

Sure these divisions have hurt men too, but if you actually use your brain instead of reacting out of madness, you will realise that the entire reason they also got hurt is due to the division created amongst women in the first place. If women were not divided, men could never took it to their advantage and become leaders. If women were united, the world would be matriarchy where we would be the leaders. Female leaders would have never created these oppressive divisions. The weakness in sisterhood is where patriarchy finds its greatest strength.

I have called out many racist white women due to this reason not just because of their ugly racist personalities, but if i call out the other side for expanding this division too, y’all get mad and start crying about racism. Well, stay mad then!! I can’t help it if you can’t use your brain. It’s literally the same way when i call out those liberal feminists for promoting harmful beauty culture or sex industry and they automatically assume i am a misogynist 😭. Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re not the victim every time. Learn to own your shit sometimes!

I don’t usually respond to the replies in reblogs as i don’t like wasting my time on stupid people but enough is enough! Someone had to shut your mouths! Even after reading this entire lengthy blog you’re still this close-minded, then as i said earlier, STAY MAD! You can join a whole community with other women of colour and come attack me, i am still gonna stand firm with what i said. None of you can change my mind and beliefs.

If you believe white women face less misogyny than woc, you shouldn’t call yourself a feminist as you are too naive to understand how patriarchy works. White privilege doesn’t exist when it comes to women facing sexism and oppression. Under the patriarchy, all women are equally oppressed regardless of their financial status, social status, colour of the skin, race, religion or ethnicity. No rich woman is less of a victim than a poor or middle-class woman just because she has a lot of money, no famous woman is less of a victim than another woman who is not a popular celebrity, similarly, no white woman is less of a victim than a woman of colour just because she’s white. Racism is a social construct created by patriarchy to divide women. On one side, racist white women (who are socialised by the system to believe being white makes them superior) exclude woc from their feminism, and in retaliation to that some woc cry about "white women tears" when they see them facing misogyny which in turn, again, fuels up the rage of white women and they become more hateful towards woc. This is what patriarchy wants. It wants to divide women by instilling hatred between us to pave an easy path for men to oppress women. So before you choose to ignore any woman’s suffering, keep in mind that by doing so you’re making it easy for the misogynists.

[lutawolf]

Thoughts and Notes for episode 6. Woot! The Great Wilderness Adventure!

It breaks my heart that everyone is yelling for Kinn but nobody for Porsche. Edited to say, this is different than the book. In the book the Korn is wanting both.

Big taking responsibility feels odd for his character. It feels suspicious 😕

And the petty Porsche begins. Kinn's got no body guards. It's just them so he can do and say what he like. Especially when he knows he is the one with the skills to survive.

"Hey Bigg! Hey Kinn!" Yup, I nailed it 🤣🤣🤣

Omg, I love the rock, paper, scissors.

And they circle back to the same tree. This matches the book.

"Trust me" "trust me" Porsche got a lot of deep seated emotions but they fit with a heartbroken person. They fit with a person who thought they were gonna be more.

Can you imagine how that feels. Porsche does all these one night stands. Because it's good for the bar and keeps the rich women coming back. He can't take someone home to see his younger brother because he has too many responsibilities without adding that. This was the first time he got to be with someone he wanted, the first time he could have something for himself. In this he and Kinn are alike. Yet that person wasn't holding him when he woke up but instead had his back to him, treating him like a one night stand.

They really trying to smash handcuffs with a rock? "It isn't gonna break stupid" How much you know about handcuffs Kinn? Could you get you and Porsche out???

Don't hold back Porsche!! Give it to Kinn. Lawd knows he's done it to you.

🤣🤣🤣 "Your life belongs to me" while poking him in the forehead and getting spittle on him. Don't know bout ya'll but I'm here for this Porsche. What's more, so is Kinn.

How romantic. Holding hands and stomping through the woods.

"I told you so" I respect that petty Porsche. I respect that so much.

Noo don't drink the water like that! No, no, and no. Take off your shirt and filter. Fuck it, their happy right. I mean worms but there's medication for that, right.

Anybody notice that Porsche is taking care of Kinn. Putting water on him. Making sure he is cool. He doesn't have to. They are on equal footing right now but Porsche is caring for Kinn. It's just automatic, like his feelings.

Okay that pan to them holding hands is too cute.

Kinn stops and Porsche just naturally does a hunch sitting position. Immediately taking care of Kinn again. This though, is someone tucking himself in to not expose so much to the sun. This is someone whose been in nature before.

"See if the engine still works" look you white crayon, Porsche. I know you are smarter than that. You know, you and Kinn really balance each other out because you have totally different smarts.

Ohhh, the sky is so pretty.

Porsche sees how beautiful the sky is and his first instinct is to share it with Kinn. "Hey come up here"

And Kinn sees that sky and yells. Not a hey people I'm here but as if he is releasing something.

Stones really... Really think you can make fire that way. I mean it's actually doable if you hit it against something metal. Pants button or the truck. You gonna take forever like this. Porsche is just letting him do it. Like, go ahead and exhaust yourself. Did you forget I'm a smoker? Though notice, I haven't seen Porsche smoke once. I mean I'm sure he left the cigs on the table back home. Still that definitely seems to be a stress relief habit.

Petty Porsche "you really know how to do it" Did Kinn really say "polite but hot" 🤣🤣🤣 Now he is just saying shit for Porsche. He wants to see Porsche smile.

God, I love petty Porsche. "I'm looking forward to a standing ovation" while sitting back and giggling at this idiot.

Kinn gives up and says they don't need a fire but Porsche "Yeah, so we can be eaten by an animal." Yup, somebody is used to the great outdoors.

Lighter! Called it!! I fucking love this Porsche. Thank you director Gods for giving him to us.

Kinn sitting there taking Porsche's shit with a slight smile to his lips. I'm not the only one loving this Porsche. Such a brat.

Poor Kinn, got some ptsd going on don't you. First you pulled a gun and now you pull a finger. You've got no one to trust so you always have to be ready to defend yourself.

That smile from Porsche at having the "finger" pulled on him. Then more smiles when he says "you're such a burden" home boy did you just realize that Kinn's gun pull was an automatic? It was never meant to actually be aimed at you?

"I heard that" but Porsche doesn't care. He's smiling and kicking his feet like he did at the pier. He has made some kind of decision here and he is giddy again. Edited to add that I think this is when Porsche forgives Kinn.

Fixing Kinn's legs. Straightening him out so he'll be more comfortable. More care. This time he is clearly aware of what he is doing.

That's a change from the book. It was Kinn that ordered Pete to watch V and it was later. They appear to be speeding things up.

"Do you think they know that we know?" Nope, Pete is completely clueless that you found him out. Going to act like he is making out with Pol! 🤦🏻‍♀️ You've been busted Pete. He noticed you following him awhile back. He's met you, why wouldn't he recognize you?!

Look at V calling you out. 🤣🤣🤣 "You've been on your stake out so long" 🤣🤣🤣

Pol, you really need your other half of the crackhead couple to stabilize you. You wouldn't survive long without Arm would you?

Pete are your eyes wide at the condoms or the size? Inquiring minds want to know.

"To catch fish" "why are you playing with that stick" Petty Porsche out here living his best life.

The way Kinn freaks out over the fruit!! Don't nobody try to tell me my man ain't gone. His heart and soul have left the body.

Meanwhile Porsche is just having a blast. But there is our third "trust me." You guys, Porsche is literally begging Kinn to trust him. If you ever want to get to the heart of what is bothering someone. Listen for what they repeat. It hurts Porsche that Kinn doesn't trust him. Does he feel like they don't have a relationship because Kinn doesn't trust him? Where is this pain coming from?

My man Porsche knows how to fish with a stick. Yup, he is familiar with the outdoors.

He has a knife!! Got it from the truck my ass! That mf has had that knife. Cause every wilderness person carries a knife. Smooth cover up though.

I love how both of them are smiling. Even with complaints and insults being thrown around, they are smiling.

Porsche knows his shit. Did you have to hide out in the woods? Did your parents used to take you camping?

Kinn giving him that fish! Fuck that's so significant. You guys! Kinn has done acts of kindness but nothing that Porsche can point at and go "this is out of character and is just for me." And look at Porsche taking it in saying "too kind" while side eyeing Kinn with a smile.

That was huge for Porsche and now he's trying to hide. This Kinn, this is the Kinn he wants. That he has seen glimpses of.

Ugh, I love that Porsche called him out. I love the banter back and forth. The figuring each other out.

Waterfalls are so fucking cold. So cold.

Hugging to warm him up. Yeah no, you both feeling the need for physical touch. Ugh, that shoulder kiss initiated by Kinn.

Okay, I'm rewinding. I really want to decide who initiated the kiss. Kinn grazes Porsche's forehead but Porsche is staring at Kinn's lips. That's when Kinn looks down. Porsche goes in and Kinn follows maybe 1 second later. Porsche is the first one to open his mouth.

Kinn backs off. Did he back off cause he feels guilty? And make no bones about it, Kinn feels guilty. Whether we know what Porsche is feeling or not, Kinn is acting like a man with a shit ton of guilt.

Or did he pull away from the kiss because he doesn't kiss and he feels he should be drawing a line? Remember he doesn't kiss so in some regards it probably is a bit awkward.

Porsche did not want it to stop though. He is leaning in even as Kinn pulls away. He looks at Kinn's lips again. Dude, he is staring those lips down.

The look of upset on Porsche's face when Kinn goes to take them out. It's not disappointment, It's upset. He is upset about something. Does he think Kinn stopped the kiss because he doesn't trust him? Is he upset at himself for being sucked into Kinn's gravitational pull?

Kinn my man, did you really make a small dick comment. 🤦🏻‍♀️ Not everyone can wear large magnum condoms. It's not the size that matters! It's your tongue technology 🤣🤣🤣

Oh shit! A dead person! We all know Porsche is afraid of ghosts. So far I'm finding this common with Asian countries so no theories there. Edited to say that I kind of wonder if this relates back to his parents.

Look at Kinn just letting himself be yanked away by Porsche, lol.

Now he is just sitting there smiling like a dumbass while Porsche is freaking.

Ohhhh, the way Porsche said "how could it be, you've been digging into my bio" he is really upset by this. Why? Is it the invasion of privacy or does he have something to hide?

Porsche side eyeing Kinn. Why does Kinn want to know something that isn't in the bio.

Oh, look at him struggling with himself. He wants to give to Kinn. At the same time he knows he can't. Kinn hurt him and he can't show him his cards again.

Oh, look at his face. He knows it's stupid but he can't help it. So he tells Kinn about the bar at the beach. Notice he didn't bring up his brother though. He'll give some of himself away but not all.

Now the difference between him and Kinn. It's not that Kinn isn't willing to spill all to Porsche. It's that he knows there is no chance of his dream so what's the point. Like crying over spilled milk. It's interesting though, if he is like this about himself then why ask Porsche? Does he feel that Porsche's dreams are still obtainable?

I think it's interesting that Porsche just straight up calls Khun crazy. Kinn isn't bothered because he can feel the affection. I think we all can. Porsche has an affection for Khun and it's equally returned. Therefore Porsche is allowed to speak straight forward when the other bodyguards are careful to say it in a whisper.

Of course Kinn wanted to be a singer! Because Mile the actor who plays him is!

Damn.. Kinn not knowing if he won because he was good or because of his dad. Isn't that just his life. Is he chosen to lead because he is good or because his brother is crazy? Do his people follow him for him or because of his dad? Does Kinn have anything that is truly his?

Porsche rushing in to reassure him. You guys this is not someone who doesn't care. He is constantly there for Kinn. Look at him encouraging.

Kinn looking to Porsche for his opinion. He wonders if Khun is really as crazy as he appears because he sees the intuitiveness in Khun.

What is that face Porsche is making though. He has no doubt that Khun isn't faking.

"I think he could" then he pauses and stares off. Soooo many micro expressions here. Sadness, regret, and uncertainty.

"I experienced that before" then another long pause with Kinn looking at him with uncertainty.

That car accident story. You guys he paused way too long before coming up with that. What are you hiding Porsche? Not saying he is lying but there is way more to this story.

Look at Kinn trying to comfort. He so doesn't know how to do this shit.

Look at Porsche though. He nods and then stares out. This! This! This! Is how a survivor looks when looking back on something traumatic. Even that face adjust and shrug are standard. It's the "I can't let anyone know how much this really effected me" pull back. Then the mask smile. This, this! Is what we do until we can stop hiding in a safe place.

You guys.. "I would erase the things I did you wrong" I told you. My man is carrying around some big guilt.

Look at the tilt of Porsche's head and chin though. He doesn't understand this conversation.

Porsche drawing up and thinking. He is in contemplative mode. Guys are they even thinking of the same kind of hurt? Porsche just nods because it doesn't matter if they are talking about the same thing or not, he forgives him.

You guys!! Don't try to tell me my man Kinn isn't gone. He gone!

Kinn's face when he heard them call his name. He was not as excited as he should have been.

I love how they potray that these two characters instinctively protect each other without thought. They've been showing that from the beginning. Remember when we first met Kinn, he had a strong survival instinct but it's constantly put on the back burner for Porsche. It's equally so for Porsche, you just have to look harder.

You guys. Porsche does not want to jump but he reacted so fast when he saw what was going down. He wasn't dragged. He reacted. Again I think the director Gods are hinting at a higher skill set in Porsche than he has been showing. What's more, Kinn knows it, which is why he doesn't hesitate.

Their first questions to each other though they are both hurt. Is to see if the other one is hurt.

Porsche asks Kinn once again if he is okay because he never got a reply. Porsche needs words. He needs things verbally communicated and puts a lot of weight to words where as Kinn is the opposite.

Even though Porsche says he is okay, Kinn does a look over. He needs to see for himself.

You guys. Porsche goes "why do we have to be handcuffed?" And Kinn immediately says "sorry" why!?! Because he thinks it's because of him? Because he knows handcuffs and can get them out?

"These make us know each other so much better" Damn you Kinn! You doing this get along cuffs on purpose.

I love how they are posed here. Mirroring each other but in complete balance. They are equally balanced. Even footing if you would. Right now we aren't seeing a Dom and sub but a Dom to a Dom. It's a cohesive pose.

His first thought was he didn't want to get out of the woods! Who would blame him. Again, when does Kinn get to have what he wants. What he wants is Porsche but he is struggling with if he has the right to have him.

Kinn pretty much admits this. He gets to be himself. Porsche does a little shake but can't help admitting that he likes this Kinn. Telling Kinn he is cute. Kinn uninsulted just smirks. Gone is the Dom who was insecure with himself.

Kin "I'm sorry" Porsche this time wants to know what about. "About that night" look at Porsche shifting his eyes, he is staring straight ahead so it's not avoidance. It's him thinking and processing. Okay, verbiage is important here. "I've never crossed the line with a body guard before, I don't know how I should place myself" this is an acknowledgement of Kinn not handling the next day correctly. "I've done so many bad things to you" then the camera pans to Porsche who has this kind of smile. Words. He needed words and now he is getting them. Then we come back to Kinn "If I could turn back time, I would not do things like that to you" He is saying he handled nothing correctly and that he now acknowledges that he hurt Porsche emotionally.

Porsche, smiles and deep sighs. "I don't know how to place myself either too" "no one has ever crossed that line with me before" then looks Kinn dead in the eyes. He looks down, so does kinn and then Kinn looks up. Porsche gives a little smile and a thumbs up. Then Kin says,"Can you please forgive me"

I don't know guys, I really don't. That smile and thumbs up indicates that Porsche doesn't know how to feel about himself because he's never had anal with a guy. That little self depreciation is him admitting it to Kinn. Then Kinn asking for forgiveness while Porsche gives it so easily. I'm torn about this conversation. Either someone did no research about SA and doesn't know how this shit works or this was a totally different conversation about Porsche admitting his confusion and Kinn admitting his fuck ups. This conversation felt more like communicating about turmoil than about trauma.

Look I'm an SA, I have done group therapy for years, and now I mentor. An SA does not forgive like that. So either different conversation about turmoil or somebody doesn't know shit about SA.

"Then from now on, we won't have any doubts between us anymore" Okay I'm leaning towards the different conversation. Like from now on they are going to talk? Look at the fucking smile from Porsche before he says "hmm, no doubts"

We went from a deep meaningful conversation to hand cutting!?!? And this back in forth. I'm dying.

Rock, paper, scissors! Then Porsche immediately showing that there will be no more doubts between them and sacrificing for Kinn. Their faces! To Kinn this is everything and to Porsche he is exposing so much of himself that he is uncomfortable.

He tries to cover, "I didn't want to come up with this" still Kinn recognizes this. Remember Kinn is a man who needs action because he doesn't trust words.

Kinn and that deep breath. It speaks volumes. He's made decisions.

I fucking knew it!!!!!! I fucking knew you could get out of the hand cuffs!

Let's get out of here. How? Kinn "I lead and you follow" and Porsche does. He doesn't have to. He could try separately now that he is out of the handcuffs but he is once again handing over that balance of power.

Kinn knew how to get out of those cuffs but he needed to be stuck with Porsche. He needed to air things out. Fix things. So he kept them bound on purpose.

Kinn is so sad. Even as Porsche is excited.

Oh, he is gonna give him up. That's love. Wanting someone's happiness more than your own.

Fuck, Mile you did so good. You can literally hear the choked up emotions in Kinn's voice. "So you can go back to your brother, get to open a bar" please note that even though Porsche never mentioned his brother, Kinn knew. Kinn knew.

Porsche is so torn. He is wondering if Kinn is pushing him away. But no, Kinn says "because he likes when you are happy" the pain on Porsche's face when being told to leave.

Porsche doesn't want to leave this Kinn. This Kinn right here, he would do anything for but leave his brother. This Kinn isn't one he can keep all the time. This is just a small portion. So while the choice is easy it's hard to do.

Porsche initiating the goodbye kiss. Kinn not pulling back. Them in fact gripping each other. Fuck, Kinn even moans. The way he is gripping onto Porsche's shirt as if to never let go. Porsche is the one to pull away. The pain on Kinn's face. Porsche looking back. Oh, I'm gutted.

Oh, that low gutteral noise of pain as he kicks the hand cuffs. That symbol of what he once had bound to him. He had exactly what he wanted, Porsche. He loves him too much to force him to be next to him. He can't force him anymore and despite the pain, he has to let Porsche choose. Too many things, people, and choices have been taken from Porsche and he can't do that to the man he loves anymore.

For Porsche to get back that fast, he hadn't left. I'm not saying he didn't plan to leave but he hadn't yet. He must have stood there listening to Kinn, struggling with if he could actually leave.

Also notice how well Porsche is fighting. There is no holding back this time. Very clean lines.

This all follows the book. Kinn sacrificing himself for his man.

Porsche screaming "Kinn" when he is shot.

This guy looks like a gangster not a mobster. I just want to note this because I feel it might be important later.

And they are rescued. Porsche's face though. Sadness and relief. He's in turmoil because this wasn't the life he planned on choosing but he revolves around this man. This man that took a bullet for him.

Holy shit, this is my longest. Sorry it's so long. Hopefully you guys enjoy. If so drop me a comment. For those that disagree, please feel free to discuss but don't come at me.

[personasintro]

friendly dates | knj drabble

⇢ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; friendly dates sound nice... but without the friend part it'd sound even better, too bad you're too scared to face your feelings

⇢ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff, idiots to lovers au

⇢ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: explicit language

⇢ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3.7+

𝒂/𝒏: commissioned anonymously!

𝒎.𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | ☕️ | © 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 (𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅)

“So where are you going for tonight's date?”

You're in the middle of trying one of the long dresses you own when your best friend speaks up from behind you, sprawled on your bed while looking at you in the reflection of your big mirror.

You give her a look, cocking your head to the side as you look at yourself again. The dress is pretty, you actually haven't worn it out yet. You've never had the opportunity since you ordered them only a week ago.

“It's not a date,” you inform her, glancing at your friend who has a subtle grin on her face. You're not surprised to hear her calling it a date, she always does this. “How do I look?”

Turning around, she eyes your outfit and overall make-up before she, like every good friend, tells you how beautiful you look. “For a usual hang out with him, you certainly do invest a lot of time and money to look perfect.”

Rolling your eyes, you purse your lips in annoyance. “Namjoon and I are just friends. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she says back, snorting as you sport a deep scowl on your face. “Friends don't go out every Friday and weekend to a freaking museum or hang out in a bookstore, Y/N. I'm telling you, this is not just casual hanging out with your friend. We both know you've a thing for him and he certainly has a thing for you.”

You didn't know it's possible, but your scowl gets even deeper. Even though you've never admitted that you've a thing for Namjoon, your best friend knows you and no matter how subtle you're trying to act and appear all the time, she just knows. It's not that hard to tell. But Namjoon has never made any move and even though you don't like the stereotypical thought of men always doing the first move, this is more about your fear of getting rejected. Also, you don't think he has a thing for you.

Sure, he pays for your food or drinks whenever you hang out, no matter how many times you scold him for it. One time he borrowed you his jacket because it was late at night and it was freaking freezing. Namjoon has done many things that made your heart even weaker for him. But he's nice to everyone and you don't doubt he wouldn't do all these things to another girl. As much as it hurts, it's true.

And the fact he has never even hinted at the possibility of him liking you in a more serious way than just a friend who he likes to attend museums, art galleries or just casually hanging out in a bookstore or a library. As far you know, he doesn't have that many friends that share the same love for books and art like he does.

You both just clicked. You have the same interests and you hang out because you like spending time together. He's easy-going and you making plans with him almost every weekend has become a certainty. But of course, there are times when one of you can't hang out and that's completely fine.

“Well,” you clear your throat, straightening the casual yet elegant dress. “We're exactly that. Just two friends.”

“Oh, so you don't like him?” She presses. You know what she's trying to do, but you won't give her that satisfaction of being right.

“I like him… as a friend.” you point out, voice getting slightly deeper when you add the friend part.

You watch her narrow her eyes, thinking about something for a moment before she grins at you. “So you wouldn't mind if I told you I like Namjoon?”

Without realizing, you automatically tense and if you weren't so focused on the uncomfortable feeling in your chest, you'd notice the way the corners of her lips twitch.

“Since when do you like him like that?” You decide to exclaim, slightly louder than you intended.

Just like you, your best friend is easy-going too and has no problem hanging out with whoever. Even though museums and art galleries aren't her thing, or anything that you and Namjoon enjoy the most, she hung out with you and Namjoon a couple of times when you weren't exactly doing that. She'd sometimes join and none of you really minded it.

Her and Namjoon get along pretty well, but you've never noticed anything suspicious or something that could hint at her liking him that way. It definitely doesn't feel nice to hear her say it. She knows how you feel, she just wants to hear you say it. But you're stubborn and there's still a slight chance she might like him.

You mean… it's Namjoon after all.

“Why do you look so surprised? Maybe I do like him like that. I thought you liked him and well, like any good best friend, I just backed off. I mean… I'm not the one who's invited to art galleries and museums.”

“Art galleries and museums aren't even your thing.” you murmur, ignoring the jealousy bubble in your stomach.

“Did you just ignore everything I said? Hello,” she sings out, “I like Namjoon!” she exclaims and you stare at her dumbfounded, blinking a couple times. Trying to detect any emotion on her face, or whether she's serious or not, is hard and almost impossible because she just stares at you.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask her nonchalantly. “You want to hear that yes, I like him but I'm too scared to admit it because there's a high chance he doesn't like me like that? The last thing I want is to ruin our friendship.”

And then, slowly but surely, you see her corners twitching in a pleasant grin. “Yes, I actually wanted to hear that exactly.”

She got you. Oh my god. You can't believe it was this easy for her to make you admit it out loud. Your face heats up and you uncomfortably shift on your spot, but then you're met with her amused eyes and grin all over again.

So you grab the first thing you get your hands on, the other dress you had prepared as a back-up in case the ones you're wearing right now wouldn't be it, and you throw it at your best friend who starts cackling.

“Was that so hard to admit it?” she laughs, catching your dress and placing them next to her. She sits up, calming down as her features soften at your huffed face. “Look… first of all, I don't like Namjoon that way. You guys just fit together perfectly, it's hard to imagine someone else having that spark like the two of you have. However… how do you know there won't be someone who really likes Namjoon in the future? I don't mean to scare you, that's the last thing I want. But you should look at it from another side. Maybe telling him how you feel will make things easier.”

“Yeah, or worse.” you murmur.

She sighs, cocking her head slightly at you. “You never know if you won't try it. Trust me, I know Namjoon likes you. I can't say I'm hundred percent sure how things could end up, but I think it's worth a try. He's worth a try. Don't you think?”

“It's intimidating,” you admit, “I'm not the type to admit my feelings, especially not to a man when he's...” Perfect, attentive, friendly, cute, handsome, kind… “Him.”

“I don't want you to get hurt, Y/N. And I know seeing him with someone else might hurt even more than a rejection.”

You get the feeling she's right, even though you don't like hearing it.

“Oh my, look!”

You almost flinch at the loud and excited voice coming from Namjoon. You barely get the time to react when your wrist is gently grabbed by him as he's pulling you towards another room. He's gushing over the art and once you make it there, you finally realize why.

The room is filled with multiple paintings (of course) but the only difference is, that each painting is centred with each color. From bright white to dark colors such as burgundy and black. Yellow, green, red, pink, purple, blue… so many different colors. The whole room looks like a rainbow, each painting different and interesting.

“Wow,” you let out, completely amazed because it's not just very colorful but also eye-pleasing for everyone's eyes.

When you glance at Namjoon, his mouth is opened and eyes shining with complete amazement. He lets go of your wrist, leaving you slightly disappointed but it's not like you expected him to hold you there more than necessary.

You both move to the first painting, admiring the white art that portrays something like clouds and apparently wings that Namjoon notices and comments.

You're equally interested in Namjoon and his own comments, always finding his opinion and own take very interesting, just as you're interested in the art itself. Between doing this, your own mind is sometimes wandering off to a different topic and that is – your best friend's words from earlier. You can't help it, every time you hear him or look at him, it's like her words scream inside your mind.

It leaves you more quiet than usual, you mostly let Namjoon talk and hum to whatever he says. You're both standing in front of blue painting – an art that portrays most things when you think of the color blue. Water, waves, even air… all of those things can be seen in the very impressive painting. You like it, however that's the only thing that leaves your mouth as you glance at Namjoon, finding him already staring at you.

Your eyes automatically widen, surprised by his furrowed brows and even more when he lets out a silenced sigh, although you hear it very clearly.

“You don't like this, do you?” he suddenly asks, leaving you even more shocked. But before you can clarify or even ask him what does he mean by asking this, he's already talking again. “I know it's not a fancy art gallery. These paintings are painted by artists that aren't that much recognized. A lot of students actually painted most of these. Profits from the tickets are going straight to those artists, students included.”

You listen to him ramble, cheeks slightly going red when his chest heaves from how quickly he said it without taking a breath.

“No, no, I like this. I really like this art gallery,” you assure him quickly, “Why would you think otherwise?”

“Can I be honest?” he asks sweetly as usual, eyes flickering to you almost worriedly as you nod. He sighs again, fingers brushing his soft honey hair. “You're quieter than usual. I can't explain it, I feel like there's something wrong.”

Attentive as always, you're surprised and not actually surprised at the same time. Of course, he noticed there's something wrong. You're not sure whether you should be touched by that gesture or be embarrassed he figured it out.

“I… I'm sorry,” you murmur, hanging your head low for a moment before you sigh too, looking back at him. “It's not your fault… I'm just… I really like it here, okay? Please don't think I don't. I'm sorry, I'm awful right now. You bought us these tickets and I just ruined--”

“Hey,” he cuts you off softly, stepping closer as he respectfully places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. “You haven't ruined anything. You can be honest with me… or don't be. I just want to know if you're okay. If you're not feeling it tonight, we can just take a rain-check or--”

“No,” you cut him off this time, cheeks flushing at how quick you bursted those words. “I mean--I'm really happy to be here tonight. I just talked to Amia about something and that kinda got stuck in my head.”

“Did you guys have a fight?” he asks, brows furrowing in worry as you chuckle and shake your head.

You look him in the eyes, heart softening right away as you still hear her words echoing in your head. Maybe you could tell him what bothers you without telling him he's a part of it.

“No, we didn't,” you smile, bracing yourself to finally tell him the truth. Half truth, more likely. “There's just this one guy I like… and I'm kinda scared to tell him that. Amia keeps telling me I should tell him before it's too late.”

“Oh,” he lets out, dropping his hand off your shoulder immediately as he looks a little baffled. Your smile drops at that. “You like someone?”

“Yes,” You. However, you don't finish it as he gives you a slight smile. “It's stupid… I just don't know what to do.”

“Well,” he smiles again, although you don't find it honest and sweet as usual. He takes a step back, glancing at the painting as he shrugs. “You'll think of something.”

And with that he turns around and walks to another painting, leaving you with a cracking heart and open mouth.

One thing is sure… at least you didn't tell him it's him you were talking about. Because then your heart wouldn't be just cracking but it'd actually break from such a reaction

Despite what happened, the rest of your “hanging out” is going smoothly. Namjoon keeps his main focus on the paintings and just like before, you hum in response and smile his way whenever he looks at you. But you still feel a slight uncomfortable feeling in your chest. You're not sure if you're ready to cry or not… You guess you'll find out once you get back home.

Once you're about to leave, you excuse yourself to go to the restroom, to which Namjoon responds to a light and friendly “of course”. He waits for you in the lobby, fishing out his phone from the pocket of his coat in the meantime. You don't spend that much time in the restroom, you quickly do your business and join Namjoon.

You spot him almost immediately, seeing him turned with his back to you as he has a phone clutched to his ear. You stay silent, not wanting to interrupt him but you want to make your presence known, but before you can actually walk around him for him to see you, you catch a glimpse of his conversation with whoever is on the other line.

“No, it's not a date,” he groans silently. You see him lift his arm and you guess he uses it to rub his face frustratedly. “It's just… a friendly date, alright? Look, she likes someone.”

Your breath catches in your throat and for a second, you're sure you forgot how to breathe as you listen to his conversation.

“No, it's okay… I didn't exactly make it known. No, seriously. Taehyung stop--we're just friends. Nothing else.”

You bite onto your lower lip, hearing Namjoon bidding a goodbye to his friend. You take that opportunity to quickly take a few steps and stop beside him when he notices your presence. He flinches, staring at you with big eyes as he looks around himself.

“Sorry, it was Tae…” he lets out. You're not sure why he is apologizing. “He actually recommended this art gallery to me.”

He is rambling.

But you just stare at him, not really sure what to make out of his phone call. There's no doubt he was talking about you, but you're kind of puzzled what to think of it. He looks nervous, you notice right away when he keeps glancing from your eyes whenever your eye contact exceeds five seconds.

“How--how much did you hear?” he asks suddenly, gulping slightly.

You realize he knows you must've heard something. You can't see yourself, you don't even realize your features are scrunched in confusion but curiosity at the same time, but Namjoon sees it all and he almost cringes when he asks you about the phone call.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you apologize immediately, giving him a crooked smile. “I didn't hear much if that's what you're scared of. I mean… you haven't said anything that we both already didn't know.”

“What?” he breathes out.

“Well, you said we're just friends, right? That's what we are… and this,” you motion with your finger between you and him and around you, “Is just a friendly date.”

Your features turn sour, betraying you as Namjoon narrows his eyes and scans your face. He's always been very smart and you can already see the wheels turning in his head. Or it’s the bitter chuckle you let out that makes him think that you do sound almost hurt to hear him say that.

And when he looks up, the look he gives you almost scares you (not because he looks mad or something) but because he looks as if he already knows what you’re thinking. The possibility scares you and you curse at yourself for opening your mouth. You should’ve kept it shut while you had the chance.

“Somehow, you don’t seem too pleasant with that.” he tells gently, tilting his head slightly which makes your throat dry.

“With what?” you mutter. You’re stalling, knowing he already caught onto that but you act as if you didn’t know.

“With me saying that we’re just friends and this is a friendly date,” he still answers. “Would it be too bad if I said I’d be more happy without that friendly part?”

Wait—

“What?” you breathe out, eyes widening immediately. Did you hear him right?

“You know why Taehyung called me? Do you want to know what he told me?” he asks, chuckling a little at the end as he doesn’t wait for your answer. “He was trying to encourage me to tell you the truth. But I told him I can’t do that because there’s someone else in your life that you like.”

“And what is the truth, Joon?” you almost whisper, figuring out where this is going and you can’t believe it — not until you hear him say it out loud and confirm your deepest desire.

“Come on, you’re smart. You already know.” he offers softly, giving you a pained smile.

“Maybe I do want to know,” you ponder for a moment, “I want to hear you say it.”

“I like you, Y/N. A lot. And I’m a freaking coward for not telling you sooner and for always backing away whenever I had the chance to tell you how I feel.”

Your insides tremble with happiness and shock at the same time, your mouth opened and lips stretching to the biggest smile but that’s until you let out a big laugh. Namjoon looks confused, tips of ears already getting read from embarrassment. Thinking he feels the same fear of rejection that you felt at the idea of confessing, you quickly explain yourself.

“We’re both so stupid,” you shake your head, an amused grin playing on your lips as you take a step closer to Namjoon. He watches you with big curious eyes, not moving an inch. “You’re the guy I talked about. I like you too, Joon. All these evenings and days spent with you… I can’t imagine doing it with someone else. And Amia told me I should tell you but I feared you don’t see me the same way. Joon, I think we’re both idiots and cowards.”

He stares at you for a moment, not moving before he suddenly wraps his arms around your frame and hugs you tightly.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispers as you giggle, hugging him back. “All this time you liked me back?”

“Of course. I thought you wouldn’t like me back, you never made it known. You’re always sweet to anyone and apart from being the same old and amazing Namjoon, I wouldn’t be able to even guess that there’s a chance you like me.”

“Of course, I like you. You’re smart, funny and goofy. I genuinely like spending time with you.” he tells you, pulling away so you can see his honest eyes full of adoration.

Namjoon notices how skeptical you look, almost as if you don’t believe him and that’s why he decides to finally man up and take matters into his own hands. One step and he’s so close to you that your chests almost brush as you stare at him with big eyes. He cups your face, watching how your eyes grow even wider but that’s all you can do — just stare at him and thinking how this look, because it looks like he’s about to—

And then he connects your lips in an innocent kiss, soft and tender that you almost think as if you just imagined it but when you close your eyes, he’s there gently pulling away. Your lips tingle with excitement, happiness and shock at the same time and when Namjoon notices your flustered face, he chuckles.

“Sorry, I hope that wasn’t too straightforward of me,” he says, features slightly twisting to worried eyes when you don’t respond and just stare at him.

Did he really kiss you? He kissed you. Namjoon kissed you.

“I’ve been meaning to do that every time we hung out.”

“I—wow,” you breathe out, fingers slightly grazing over your lips as you smile at Namjoon. “I guess we’re both cowards. If I told you sooner too, we could’ve kissed way sooner.”

That makes Namjoon laugh, a genuine laugh as he reaches for your face and gently strokes your cheek.

“Can I take you on a date? A real date that we both consider a date?” he pleads.

Your heart is jumping with happiness, hands slightly trembling as you let out a nervous giggle. But then you reach for his hands, squeezing them while all he can see in your eyes is genuine happiness. However, it’s Namjoon’s turn to look slightly nervous as he shifts on his spot but doesn’t usher you to give him an answer. He is patient, looking at you with fondness and honesty.

And when you finally open your mouth to respond, you see the most beautiful dimpled smile that makes your whole chest tingle with so much love. Maybe it’s too soon to call it that but you already know what you’re feeling, so your answer is more than clear.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[jezunya]

Woof, this is a relic! As evidenced by the fact I had to make it an image post, because at the time of originally posting this, tumblr was doing that thing where text posts were getting automatically shortened into links. Fuck, I feel old.

It's interesting to me to see this first sort of awakening on this particular topic in my past. I was already an ex-mormon & ex-christian by this point, but I hadn't yet been able to articulate a lot of my problems with the belief system I had been raised in. Even here, what was such a moment of clarity for me at the time, now feels I was barely grasping around the edges of an idea.

It's Prosperity Doctrine.

It's what the Puritans believed, that good things happen to good people, and bad things happen to bad people. So if bad things happen to you, even just freak accidents, well you must have deserved it for some secret sin.

Ever heard some rich asshole talk about 'pulling themself up their bootstraps'? And it's almost always someone who inherited family money, or had good luck, or were privileged & given more chances to succeed because they were white or male or abled or beautiful or skinny etc? (And/or cheated & abused everyone who worked under them in order to amass their wealth.) That's called The Bootstrap Myth (or sometimes The Bootstrap Fallacy). It's a form of Prosperity Doctrine wherein being a "good" person is specifically defined as working hard and having good business sense (or in other words, not paying taxes and abusing your employees! Soooo sensible!!! /sarcasm)

The thing with Property Doctrine is that uses a very common but also very tricksy logical fallacy. See, they go from a) good person, so therefore b) good things happen to you, and then flip it all around to be: b) good things don't happen to you, so therefore a) you must not be a good person

When people say, 'A therefore B does not equal B therefore A,' this is what they're talking about. It's a fallacy, meaning it's false, it's not true, it doesn't work like that. A causes B, but that doesn't mean that B always happens only because of A.

My car's battery died (A) so therefore my car won't start (B)

Does not mean

Every time my car won't start (B) it must be because the battery is dead (A)

Your mechanic will tell you there are lots of reasons for a car not to start. No gas, a faulty ignition, etc. See what I mean? A may cause B, but other things can cause B too. So B happening doesn't mean A is necessarily the cause.

But in Prosperity Doctrine, they don't understand this (or they ignore it, because it benefits them). If someone is poor (B), it must be because (A) they made bad choices or they sinned or they didn't work hard or they didn't have good business sense or they didn't pray enough or WHATEVER

And then the really sinister part of this whole belief system: if this person sinned, or didn't work hard, or "God" just doesn't like them for whatever reason, then it would be against "God's" will (or the natural order or social Darwinism or whatever justification they come up with) for the Good Person to help them. Which is why you have conservative religious people defunding food stamps and medicaid and disability benefits and public libraries and public schools and literally any form of social safety net that might help those Bad People. Because they only need that help because they're poor (in money or health or any other dimension) and they're only poor because they're Bad and because "God" willed for them to be punished for their badness. If "God" wanted you to have money for food, he'd have already given it to you, so the Good People can't possibly go against "God" and let you have food stamps!

The thing about missionary work, though, to bring it back to my original rant all those years ago, is that it's an attempt to tell poor, starving, oppressed, traumatized people that they can become one of the Good People and stop being one of the Bad People if they accept Jesus into their life. Because, like I originally ranted about, Christians don't believe that there's any justifiable reason to be poor or sick or disabled or oppressed, those things are all just caused by "God's" will to punish you for being a Bad Person.

It's the same logic as the fuckwad who told me in Sunday school when I was still LDS that I wouldn't be depressed if I read my scriptures and prayed enough.

Idk, I'm not really coming to any big conclusion here. Prosperity Doctrine is the big conclusion, really. And it's not just limited to Christians. It's an extremely pervasive form of magical thinking. It's in everything from 'you must have sinned to bring this disaster on you and your loved ones' to 'you just didn't manifest hard enough so you're not beautiful/rich/famous/happy yet' and 'if you just sell enough in this multilevel marketing scheme or take on yet another side hustle you'll definitely get rich any day now!'

It's victim blaming and just about any form of oppression or "-ism" type bigotry, rolled up together and justified in this magical system where random chance doesn't exist and bigotry doesn't exist and privilege doesn't exist. It's a mystical justification for all these forms of bigotry, and for maintaining oppressive systems, and it's still just as magical & ludicrous when the person benefitting from it is trying to sound down to earth and talk about pulling themself up with hard work alone and absolutely never ever ever any help from anyone else never

And the thing is, again to go back to the missionary stuff that started all this for me, is that this system of magical thinking doesn't only justify an individual person's bigotry. It doesn't only excuse one person from refusing to give spare change to someone begging on the street. It also, necessarily, by definition, excuses the action of the violent, oppressive dictator who has their goons steal all the food and money and technology and medicine and clean water. Because that still counts as a Bad Thing happening to you, you poor malnourished people in various war-torn countries. And that wouldn't happen to you if you weren't one of the Bad People. And rather than take any kind of action to either treat the symptoms of your problems, like using their wealth & resources to provide housing or food or medicine, or treating the root of your problems, like helping you overthrow that dictator, instead Christian missionaries say that the real problem, the real reason for these Bad Things happening to you, is that you're not one of the Good People.

You haven't manifested hard enough.

You haven't hustled fast enough.

You haven't read a specific book often enough.

You haven't talked to some old man in the sky enough.

So, see, it's your fault.

I think I’ve finally figured out why Christianity and in particular overseas Christian missionary work creeps me out so much.

Watching yesterday’s MHP Show segment where they’re discussing the documentary God Loves Uganda, and there’s a bit with a well-fed, healthy, white, privileged American young woman telling a Ugandan woman who appears emaciated and extremely poor by our culture’s standards that she’s come all the way across the sea to bring them the “good news” of Christianity. Ms. Harris-Perry very rightly commented that maybe that young, healthy, white, privileged American woman should stop and take a moment to listen to what the Ugandan woman has to tell her for a change, which obviously never happens. It’s an unbelievably common thread in white American Christian missionary work: they come as benevolent emancipators to educate the local people and raise them up out of the squalor they’re only living in because they haven’t found Jesus yet.

And that’s when it hit me: the underlying belief, the reason that white American Christians never seem interested in hearing what these local people think and feel and know about life, is because there is a perceived causality between 1. Not being Christian, and 2. Not being rich and privileged.

It is the belief that poverty is due to a defect of character, rather than to oppressive circumstances.

This is the exact same belief that underlies the disgusting statements from the wealthy conservative white Christian rightwing in the US when they talk about how poor people wouldn’t be poor if they’d just let the privileged wealthy white Christians teach them about the dignity of an honest day’s work – because they actually think that people are poor because they just don’t like working. They brush aside the facts of jobs being scarce, of even if you can find a job it won’t pay anything even resembling a living wage, of black market industries and gangs that have taken hold in communities because there are no other options to support and protect your family, of entire generations being mowed down by violence and drugs, and, in many developing nations, of the fact that sometimes the ground just won’t grow anything, and even when it does it gets stolen or destroyed or extorted from you by roving extremist armies or by the very government that’s supposed to be protecting you and the rest of the people of your nation, and you’re lucky if they just take your food and money instead of raping and slaughtering you and your whole family—

And then some rich healthy white Christian American, who has never gone to bed starving, has never buried a child for a disease that can be cured but just not where you live and not for people like you, who thinks studying at a university is a BURDEN rather than a PRIVILEGE, is going to show up and tell you that if you just tried harder and learned the dignity of “real work” and learned to be a good Christian then you’d finally stop being poor and hungry and sick, because obviously that is all entirely your own fault and the people taking everything from you and trying to kill you and your family are meaningless because those things don’t exist in a rich white Christian American’s world so they’re not real because their world view is the only one that matters.

So yeah. Christianity, missionary work, efforts to spread democracy and “American values.”

Creep.

Me.

The fuck.

Out.

And on top of all of it: they walk around with that sense of serenity like they are literally god’s gift to these poor people who just don’t know what they’re missing if only they’d try harder.

Just disgusting.

[gohyuck]

smoke and cherries

or, alternatively, bonnie & clyde

pairing: criminal!jeong yunho x criminal!reader

genre: fluff (between yunho & the reader), some suggestiveness

warnings:  mentions of smoking cigarettes, armed robbery, guns, theft, what is literally cold-blooded murder actually (minor character death of a convenience store clerk), reader and yunho are definitely like… screws lose in a murdery way, reader sucks blood off of yunho’s fingers for a second (i’m so sorry it’s kinda fucked up), yunho blows his smoke into the reader’s face but it’s like consensual, littering

word count: 1.4k

“since when d’you keep suckers on you?” yunho lets the question escape out the side of his mouth in tandem with the smoke of his cigarette, and when you look over at your other half, his expression is as amused as his words are inquisitive. his eyes are already back on the road ahead of you, though you don’t doubt that he’d been gazing upon you a second ago when he’d asked about your new vice. you swirl your tongue around the bright red candy one more time for good measure before pushing it into one of your cheeks, stick jutting out the very corner of your slightly chapped lips.

they hadn’t had cherry back when you’d been growing up, the concept of it only having been introduced during your high school years. you find that it’s your favorite flavor now. perhaps novelty doesn’t wear off.

“since this mornin’,” you respond after a beat, your lips pulling into a teasing grin while you allow your words to sink in. once the meaning behind your words has settled, yunho can’t help but laugh softly but genuinely, removing the Lucky Strike from between his lips before resting his hand, cigarette between two lithe fingers, over the edge of the window. it’s a sweet moment between lovers; a shared secret.

between the soft mirth in your eyes and the red stain on your tongue, between yunho’s rounded features and good-natured gaze , there’s not an outsider in the world that would guess just what the two of you find so funny.

you’d grabbed a bag of lollipops at the Southland Ice Company store the two of you had hit up in the morning. there’d been a sign - hand-painted, by the looks of it - on the wall above the candy bin, something or the other about a discounted rate. free is a discount, right?

the two of you may seem sweet, unassuming, even kind in this stolen moment, but if anyone knows better, it’s you. then again, not many people have seen you with red stains on your clothes and lived to tell the tale. even less have survived yunho when his eyes switch from soft and loving to a cold, steely glare. he never looks angry, no: just soulless. you have never seen your lover feel remorse.

this thrills you. birds of a feather.

you let your tongue wrap around the lollipop once more, wrapping a finger around the stick to pull it out of your mouth for a second to savor the flavor that now coats your tongue. there’s a torn-open package with other cherry candies in the back somewhere, hidden under piles of other things that were free-but-not-really. the clerk had been too busy cowering under your boyfriend’s sneer - and the barrel of his Browning Automatic - to notice you swiping the suckers.

on one hand, you can’t imagine a better image to see before dying: there’s something undeniably sexy about yunho with his finger against a trigger and a lack of soul behind his eyes. on the other… it’s just a little fascinating, you think. working day in and day out at a shitty job must be the most awful, crushing thing possible, and yet the fool behind the Southland counter still wants to live. he’s still sobbing, snot running over his lips and a wretched, choking noise bubbling up from the depths of his throat as he begs for his pathetic little life, hands shaking as he drops stacks of bills into the bag in yunho’s other hand. 

 you stuff the lollipops into your own oversized bag, scouring the shelves for things of more worth. there’ll be a shady dealer or two in a neighboring city that’ll be willing to take most anything off of your hands, you’re sure of it. at first, the man’s hysterics don’t really bother you: this is fairly run-of-the-mill. still, your patience wears away over time: there’s only so much caterwauling you can take before your eardrums beg for release. 

“baby,” you call from one end of the store, dropping a few bottles of medicine into your bag, not bothering to read their labels. the bawling rises in volume at the sound of your voice. before you can say anything else about getting the collateral to be quiet, yunho beats you to it.

“shut the fuck up,” he growls, voice loud enough and low enough that you can hear him clearly despite being across the cramped building. there’s a dull thunking noise, followed by a soft whimper, and you know that the barrel of yunho’s rifle is now against the clerk’s forehead. you can’t help the giggle that escapes you: you love this part. your boyfriend lets out an airy chuckle in response to your laughter, because what makes you happy makes him happy. 

“you done?” yunho calls, and by how light his tone is, you know that he’s talking to you. you take a moment to sift through what you have, and, upon realizing that you’re done for now, you call out an equally pleasant ‘mhm!’.

“go ahead and get the car started for me then, darling,” your lover responds. the clerk lets out a wet gasp, not knowing if this means life or death for him. poor, naive, still-hopeful little thing. yunho pushes the cool metal into his skin with a miniscule amount of heightened force as he speaks to you with the casualness of a white picket fence couple in suburbia. “i won’t be but a minute.”

the bang had been muffled, but you’d heard it nonetheless, even from the car, just as you’d grabbed a couple of lollipops from the package before throwing the whole thing back into the back seat. just as yunho’d stalked out, bag full of cash and dirtied gun in hand, you’d slid into the passenger seat. he’d dropped everything into the back alongside your stuff before hitting the gas, making you fear for your life for one beautiful moment before regaining control of the car.

he’d raised a hand up once he was sure of his place on the road, placing two fingers against your lips. you’d tasted the clerk’s blood then, sitting heavy against your taste-buds as you pulled it off of yunho’s skin. you know his process well: even after putting a hole in the poor man’s head, yunho would’ve wrapped one of his hands around the victim’s throat, mostly to ensure his death. you can never be too careful, after all. 

you could see it clearly, the blood dripping down the side of the dead man’s face and over your boyfriend’s fingers. there’s something surreal about it. always is. yunho had pulled his fingers from your mouth with a pop, laughing softly when you’d nipped at his fingertips for a moment before pressing a kiss to his knuckles. he’d dropped his hand to your thigh just as you’d lit a cigarette for him. the same hand is currently wrapped idly around the top of the steering wheel. 

“thought you were gonna use the candy to try ‘n quit cigs for a second there,” yunho states at a stop light, taking a drag of his own cigarette before turning towards you. you don’t turn towards him, knowing full well that he’s going to playfully blow smoke at the side of your face. 

he does so. you can’t help your smile. 

“you’re the one that needs to quit,” you respond easily, rolling your eyes solely for good measure. you aren’t lying, not really: you smoke maybe once or twice a day. your lover goes through a pack in the same time. the smoke wraps around you like an old friend. nobody in the surrounding cars knows who you are, what you do. you feel safe. yunho drops the cig stub out the window onto the road, and you realize he’d blown his last smoke cloud at you. your smile grows. 

“i need to quit, hm?” he raises an eyebrow, though his eyes smile just as his mouth does.

“you’re the one that’s addicted.” you affirm your own claim, words a little slurred around the lollipop in your mouth. yunho laughs, real and loud, before reaching over to pinch the end of your lollipop’s stick, tugging on it gently. you realize that he isn’t trying to take it from you; rather, he’s simply pulling you closer to him. you oblige. 

he pulls harder once, and you part your teeth to allow him to pull the sucker off of your tongue. yunho leans close, lips brushing over yours, before he speaks again.

“the only thing ‘m addicted to is you, sweetheart.”

he tastes of real smoke, and you taste of fake cherries. it doesn’t get any better than this.

[peachy-panic]

2 & 3 for the micro fiction?

So, uh. This got a little longer than 2-3 sentences.

Thank you so much for the prompt! This went in a direction I fully didn't expect it to, which I guess is the best case scenario for these kinds of things.

(picks up directly after this piece)

Warnings: BBU/BBU adjacent, creepy whumper, mouth whump (kind of?), talk of blood, implied future noncon.

Jaime keeps his gaze fixed on the scattered ceramic rather than his Keeper’s disapproving eyes, which he can feel boring into him like a sunburn as he stands over him on the kitchen floor. He hadn't moved from this spot when he heard the garage door, even knowing that Mr. Torley would be upset when he didn’t find him kneeling and waiting in the entry hall at his arrival like he was supposed to.

It was between staying there and trying to clean up his mess before he could be caught, or going to kneel and hoping he could explain the accident before Mr. Torley walked into the kitchen and found his favorite mug shattered.

Instead, his body had seized in panic, aided by his bone-deep exhaustion, and he had frozen in place. Unmoving. Until his Keeper had walked in to find him hunched over the evidence of his mess.

“What happened here?” His voice is edged with a teasing lilt rather than the anger Jaime had expected, but he’s pretty sure this is worse. Definitely worse.

“It was a mistake.” He knows it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as the words leave his mouth, and he blinks hard when Mr. Torley’s shadow drops into a crouch in front of him, bringing him closer to eye-level.

“A mistake?” He tilts his head, a mask of false-sincerity veiled over his features.

Jaime stutters in his recovery, shaking his head once. “I’m sorry,” he says, the apology natural on his tongue. Automatic. Easy. Placating.

But Mr. Torley is having none of it.

Jaime watches in his peripheral vision as his Keeper picks up a triangular shard of broken ceramic, examining it between his finger and thumb. The uneasy feeling swells to a peak behind his ribs.

“I trust you to take care of my things when I’m gone,” he says calmly. Dangerously. Jaime swallows. “I find trust to be instrumental in maintaining an orderly household. So you’ll understand why I find this so disappointing.”

It’s just a fucking mug, is the answer locked behind his teeth. I’m sorry, is the louder answer, perched on his tongue.

But before he has time to voice either, Mr. Torley rises from his crouch. Jaime’s eyes follow him this time, all the way to the drying rack where Jaime had placed the rest of the freshly-washed dishes only minutes ago. Something spikes in his chest when he watches his hand close around a small whiskey glass, and before he can process it, the sound of shattering explodes in his ears. Crystals of glass firework out around him on the floor, mingling with the white ceramic. His eyes are drawn to a particularly sharp corner that has landed just before his knee and he feels his breathing go shallow.

He blinks in surprise when he goes to look up at Mr. Torley and finds him crouched again, closer to him than before. Jaime does not move.

With the hand that is not holding the chip of ceramic, Mr. Torley picks up the gleaming shard of glass that had caught Jaime’s attention. He holds them both up in front of him, watching Jaime’s face with a fascinated amusement.

“I think it’s equally important that this trust is a two-way street,” he says. “Don’t you?”

Jaime nods, because he’s pretty sure he would agree to anything his Keeper said just then. A smile breaks over Mr. Torley’s face.

“Good,” he breathes, and for a split second Jaime thinks he might be off the hook. Then, something darker passes through the older man’s eyes. Something he’s seen pieces of in other rooms in the house, most often under the golden glow of a bedside lamp. “Then I’m sure you’ll agree it's apparent you have some learning to do.” Jaime’s eyes flicker up to his, finding his malicious grin to have widened. “Do you trust me?”

Once again, Jaime nods. His lies mean nothing anymore.

“Open your mouth.”

The air in the kitchen freezes, tiny ice crystals falling to the ground with the rest of the debris in his mind. For a rare moment, Jaime hesitates. Mr. Torley’s eyes lose half a second of the amused glimmer and Jaime’s heart stalls.

“Ceramic is thicker,” Mr. Torley says casually, by way of explanation. “The edges are blunter when it fractures. Sharp enough to cut, but you’ll need to apply much more pressure. Unlike glass…” he pauses, twisting the glass fragment in the overhead light of the kitchen. “One wrong slip of the tongue and you’ll be swallowing blood.”

“Please,” Jaime’s trembling voice betrays him, voicing a plea he hadn’t meant to release.

The sternness returns to Mr. Torley's eyes. “Open your mouth,” he repeats with no room for objection. “And close your eyes.”

Jaime pulls in a deep, stuttering breath. He lets it out. Then he obeys.

“Hold still,” Mr. Torley says. “If you trust me, you have nothing to worry about, right?”

Jaime nearly cries out as he feels something smooth lay flat on his tongue, but he forces the urge down, channeling the terror into utter stillness. Warm tears trickle out from beneath his pinched eyelids and run down his jaw.

“Close your mouth.”

The whine that escapes his throat might have been humiliating if he could feel anything other than the blind panic that consumed him. He has nothing at his disposal. He can’t move, and now he can’t even beg without shredding his tongue to pieces.

The jolt of light fingertips brushing the underside of his chin is all the motivation he requires. Even the most petrified part of him knows that whatever pressure Mr. Torley would apply if left to his discernment would be far crueler than what he could do to himself. Paralyzed, Jaime does as he is told and closes his mouth and--

A full-body shudder wracks a sob from his throat as his teeth find the coarse edges of the broken mug, gritty and blunt and fucking beautiful. The blood has drained from his body, leaving him cold and wrung out on the kitchen floor, but he could fucking die from relief.

Two firm taps against his bottom lip signals him to open his eyes and his mouth, breathing out as Mr. Torley pulls the piece from his mouth and discards it back onto the floor.

“See?” He smiles, speaking down at Jaime like a small child who had been needlessly afraid of a doctor’s visit. “It’s all about trust.”

Jaime is frozen as his Keeper stands to his feet once more, nudging some of the scattered remnants toward him with his polished-black shoe.

“Clean this up.” His voice is back to its usual bluntness; ceramic instead of sharp-cutting glass. “And then come see me in the bedroom.”

[heliads]

Partnership

When Y/N L/N is paired with Draco Malfoy for a Potions assignment, she assumes it’s just her bad luck. However, the two may have more in common than she’d thought.

masterlist

The sky is a brilliant blue, dashed with the occasional white puffy cloud that looks like it came straight out of a picture book. It’s a beautiful day, by far one of the nicest days you’ve had in a while. And instead of enjoying it, you and your friends are walking down to the dungeons for Potions. Just perfect.

Glancing over, you see your same lackluster disappointment on the faces of Harry and Ron, two of your closest friends. Even Hermione, who’s usually keen to get to class and learn some new and exciting piece of information, seems reluctant to trade in the golden glow of the sunlight for the dim, dull, and distant dungeons. 

It turns out you’re right to be unhappy- Potions class has barely started when Snape announces that you’ll be starting a project that will last about two weeks or so where you have to research and come up with your own potion alongside a partner. Most of the work will be completed outside of class, but on the final day of work the two partners will both have to successfully brew the newly created potion. Each partner will drink from their partner’s cauldron, and if you don’t immediately die or the potion works, you pass. You’ll be working in pairs of two, but just as you look eagerly to Hermione, Snape informs the class that he will be picking the partners.

Ron groans quietly. “So I guess I won’t be working with you, Harry.” Harry chuckles. “Not a chance. He’d never let the two of us get our way.” Hermione shrugs. “At least you know you won’t be working with Malfoy. He doesn’t hate Draco enough for that. Honestly, Y/N, I’d be worried about yourself. You’re a Ravenclaw, not a Gryffindor, so it isn’t outright treason to be paired with Malfoy.” You nod slowly. “That’s what I’m worried about. He won’t put any of you with Draco, and he probably won’t put Draco with Crabbe or Goyle either.”

Ron frowns at you, confused, and you clarify. “If Draco has to drink from Crabbe or Goyle’s potion, he’ll die. Snape wants to make sure Draco doesn’t get poisoned, so he’ll pick someone who’s actually competent.” Harry grins. “That would be good to see. Killed by his own best mates.” The rest of you dissolve into laughter that is just a hair too loud, as Snape glares at the four of you and a reprimand is issued from across the classroom. “Quiet, Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor!”

Ron makes a face once Snape’s back is turned. “Why didn’t he deduct any points from Y/N? She was there too!” You laugh at that. “It’s called the perks of not being in Gryffindor. Very helpful.” Across the room, Snape continues assigning partners. “Parkinson and Zabini, Thomas and Bulstrode… and Malfoy and L/N.”

You freeze in place. Snape clicks his tongue impatiently, and after a beat, you gather up your things and walk over to sit next to your partner just like everyone else in the room. Draco is evidently annoyed by this too, and he hisses something to Snape in a hushed voice. “I don’t want her as my partner! She’s Potter’s friend!” Snape just eyes him coolly. “She may be an associate of Potter, but as of right now both she and you are students under me, meaning that I and I alone have full jurisdiction of which partners you have. I would suggest you hold your tongue, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco leans back in his seat, clearly vexed. Snape moves on to other students, and Draco mutters under his breath. “He can’t talk to me like that.” You smirk at his annoyance. “He can and he will. Welcome to the real world, Malfoy. He’s like that to everyone.” Draco flashes you a glare and you hold your hands up defensively. “Hey, I don’t want to be here anymore than you do. Don’t think for a second that you’re anywhere near my first choice for partners.” Draco shakes his head. “Nor you for me. At least I know you won’t kill me- you are a Ravenclaw, after all.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Such glowing compliments. I’m touched.” Draco rolls his eyes. “All we have to do is get through two weeks and then I never have to see you again.” You toss him an obviously mocking smile. “Sounds perfect. I can’t wait to pretend we’ve never met.”

Snape switches to lecturing directly after he finishes assigning partners, so you don’t have any time to work on the project. Once he announces the end of class, you turn to Draco, expecting to talk about research for the potion you’re supposed to come up with, but to your surprise, the Slytherin boy is already walking quickly out of the room. You heave a frustrated sigh, then grab your things and follow him out resolutely.

You catch up with him in a courtyard on the grounds, and walk in front of him, forcing him to stop. He looks at you, bored. “What do you want?” You raise an eyebrow. “To talk about the project? If we want to get this done in two weeks we have to start research immediately.” Draco waves a hand at you dismissively. “Then go do it.” He moves to start walking again, but you step to the side and block his passage. “You’re joking if you think I’m doing all of this myself. We are both doing it, or nothing is going to happen.”

Draco folds his arms across his chest. “Do you know who I am? I’m a Malfoy, one of the best pure-blood families in the Wizarding World. I certainly do not have to do research with some Ravenclaw.” You laugh incredulously. “I don’t give a damn about your family. I mean, are you really going to cling to some false notion that your family is going to get you everywhere in life? We don’t all revolve around you, and your family certainly doesn’t either.”

Draco glares at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You stare at him in determination. “There’s going to be a time when you graduate from your final year at Hogwarts and you have to figure out just what to do with your life. A name can only get you so far out there, stop relying on it here.” Draco pretends he’s unaffected, but you can tell you’ve struck a nerve. 

“You’re wrong, L/N. My family can bring me more than you could even dream of in your wildest imagination. No matter where I go, I could have things handed on a platter to me while you have to work away all your life for half of them.” You consider him. “But what if you didn’t have to live like that? What if, for once in your life,  you were actually yourself instead of hiding behind your father’s shadow, scared of everything that he hasn’t briefed you on beforehand?”

Draco flinches, and you realize you’ve gone too far. “Do not disrespect my father like that. He is a good man, and you cannot talk about him like that. Why are you saying all of this, anyway? Because you’re mad at me for not wanting to study?” You shake your head softly. “I’m saying this because I know how it feels, to be trapped in between your family and your life. Let down your guard just this once. I promise you’ll be all the better for it.”

Draco looks at you, and for a second you think you’ve ruined everything, and that you’ll have to just go find yourself another Potions partner because he will never speak to you again. Then he nods, and holds out his hand. “Maybe you’re right. To being equals?” You stare at him for a second, then a smile starts to slip onto your face. “To being equals.”

You and Draco don’t meet up again until tomorrow, when you find yourself sitting opposite him at a table in the library. There are books on potions and potion ingredients in front of you, and the two of you stare down at them as if looking at them hard enough will automatically teach you how to brew a stellar potion.

Draco taps something on a newly turned page. “What about this? A Self-Switching potion? It seems easy enough, and we just make a simple version of it where you have the ability to change a few things about yourself. Like being a Metamorphmagus but only when you drink the potion.”

You nod slowly. “That sounds really good, actually.” You clasp your hands together, eyes starting to brighten with excitement as you consider the project ahead of you. “I think we could do it. I mean, it’s a basic chameleon potion so we could definitely do it in time. As for ingredients, I’m thinking some bicorn horn, dittany, maybe boomslang skin? Oh, we’d obviously have to have some essence of comfrey… Does a foxglove extract sound right, or is that more for other potions?”

You realize you’ve been chattering on for a while, and glance up from the book to see Draco looking at you with the most peculiar look on his face. There’s an easy smile crossing his lips, one you haven’t seen on him in a very long time. Perhaps not ever. You tilt your head at him, confused. “What?” Draco blinks slightly, coming back to reality. “Nothing. Uh, that sounds good.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, but turn back to the book. Your eye catches on some diagram depicting the proper brewing of the Polyjuice Potion. “Wait, we could use that wand movement there! It’ll actually work out just the way we want it to, but way easier than just brewing Polyjuice.” Draco grins suddenly, the flash of his teeth in the dim atmosphere of the library catching your eye. “Are we actually doing this?” You smile back at him. “I think we are. Look at us! Legitimate potion-brewers!”

The two of you start to laugh, the happy sound breaking the stillness of the library and earning you a swift glare from Madam Pince, the librarian. This act of discipline just makes the two of you laugh even harder, until you’re forced to quiet yourselves at the risk of being kicked out of the library. Once the study session is over, you start walking back to your dorm, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione catch up with you once you’ve barely taken a few steps.

Hermione clasps your arm. “I saw you heading out of the library. I can’t believe you have to work with Malfoy, that’s just awful. Tell me, is it that unbearable? I don’t know how you can stand it.” You smile lightly. “Actually, it’s not that bad. He just seems like another student.” Ron frowns, bewildered. “But he’s not just another student. He’s Malfoy.” You shrug. “I don’t know. He’s nice to me.” And, you suppose, he was. In fact, other than that one incident yesterday, he’s been friendly and even kind to you. Strange.

Before you know it, the two weeks have flown by and it’s time for the in-class Potions assessment. You and Draco work side by side, working effortlessly as if you’d been brewing potions together all your lives. At the end, your cauldrons contain identical liquids- the same swirling, mulberry color, the same light, almost white smoke. 

Snape arrives at your cauldrons, taking a quick glance inside to check that the contents appear roughly the same before gesturing languidly at the two of you. “Drink the other’s potion. You had best be correct in your brewing, as I don’t want any more trips to the infirmary.” You and Draco look at each other one last time, then you dip a cup into his cauldron, drinking it down as he does the same. The potion isn’t sweet, nor bitter, just a smooth liquid with a slight hint of spice.

Now to test if the potion works. You concentrate for a second, willing your hair to turn a different color. Pink, maybe. After a second, you glance at a mirror in your hand and smile to see the light rose locks taking the place of your formerly H/C ones. You look at Draco, and grin to see that his eyes have changed color from the usual ice gray to a dark emerald, reminiscent of the Slytherin colors adorning his robes.

You let out a quiet laugh, relieved, then will your hair to transform back into its usual color. You feel better once it does, and when Draco’s eyes return to normal. Snape considers the potions for a second, then nods slowly. “Acceptable work, both of you. You’ve earned yourselves an Outstanding.” Snape steps away to interrogate another pair of students, announcing that once you’ve been graded you can leave class, and you beam at Draco. “We got an Outstanding! I’m so proud of us!”

Draco smirks at your enthusiasm. “Let’s head out. I think I’ll become unconscious if I have to spend another second next to Finnigan’s potion.” You giggle quietly at that, and gather up your things to leave with him. The two of you walk out of the dungeons and into the courtyard. You tilt your head up to face the sky, basking in the sudden brightness of day.

Draco laughs at you, then his voice slowly starts to die off. “Well, I guess you got what you wanted, didn’t you? The two weeks are up. You never have to see me again.” You glance up at him, but Draco doesn’t give you a chance to speak. “I know how it is. You’re best friends with Potter and the others, they despise me. You probably despise me too.”

You walk over to him, gently taking his hands in yours. “I think I’m expected to, but I don’t. I think you’re a genuinely good person, Draco, you just have to give yourself the chance to see that for yourself.” He lets himself smile at that. “In that case, would you like to give me the chance to go out with you to Hogsmeade? The trip’s in a few days.” You beam at him, feeling your eyes light up. “I’d like nothing more.”

[no-idea-for-a-cool-name]

I don't agree with the approach other people had here which was too aggresive in my opinion. But just trying to explain another point of view, I think nobody has a problem with headcanoning the Starks as whatever ethnicity, I think what people have a problem with is when the same people make Sansa and Cat white and Jon/Arya/Ned darker skinned. Why that distinction? Sansa is also a Stark.

Canonically speaking, the Starks ARE white, Westeros is racist and the Starks are never discriminated because of their skin color, Arya's skin is decribed as pale or pink several times, all the GRRM approved artwork depicts them as white. The hair and eye color are different but the Starks and Tully are equally white as far as we know. The only difference is that the Starks are described as "less attractive" by some. And THAT is the issue that makes some people upset. That the group of people who are vaguely described as "unattractive" always get portrayed as darker skinned while the beautiful ones are always seen as white. Do you see why some people have an issue? It feels like people, consciously or not, with bad intentions or not, seem to automatically equate uglyness with dark skin and beauty with white skin.

I'm not saying that's what this artist is doing, it's a beautiful art and I don't want to go around shitting on artists because I'm pretty sure most of them don't have any bad intention whatsoever and there're many other reasons to portray character as this or that ethnicity that have nothing to do with what I just said, but I think it is worth it to have the conversation of why, in general, (again, not this artist specifically) there's a tendency to headcanon the "less attractive" members of the family as brown while almost never doing the same for the "beautiful" ones. Or why Lyanna is almost never depicted as darker skinned in fanarts despite looking identical to Arya. Does the fact that she's described as beautiful have something to do with that?

Again, I really, really don't want to hate on this beautiful art or go after artists, just trying to offer an explanation of why some people might be a bit on edge about this subject.

Children of war.