#and HE actually has beliefs about women that are hurtful (though he admits that its nonsensical)

[valzhangism]

do you think Leo is a misogynist

nope and i'm not just saying that because he's my favourite character. calling leo a misogynist is just objectively ridiculous; the most "misogynistic" behaviour he ever exhibits is flirting awkwardly and thinking of himself as a casanova but even then when he gets put in his place it's not like he gets angry or violent or even all that upset. it's clear that his flirty behaviour is just another coping mechanism that can manifest negatively like, say, his bullying frank. he's best friends with piper, is intimidated by annabeth, and becomes close with hazel and reyna. all characters with which he has completely normal and meaningful interactions with. frankly i don't get at all how people see him as some raging misogynist—the most he has is a minor sexism problem that is typical of most teenage boys, one that even percy has.

tldr; no. nothing leo does is ever that serious.

[finitevariety]

have to say I really loved how Shiv brought up the waiter. Does she give a shit about him, or that Kendall killed him? Nah, not really. Will she weaponise it to appear more moral in the moment? Yeah, absolutely.

It's like she said to Mencken: she's flexible. She LARPed as progressive to get her career in politics and genuinely believed she believed all these things--it's easy to believe you believe nice things, when the shit you actually do care about isn't in conflict with those beliefs. But then she wrangled Gil and Logan into a handshake, and she played her card as a woman to silence a victim--and, by shooting the one with her head above the parapet, many more victims--of institutional sexual abuse. She has even hurt herself by sailing too close to the wind in her girlboss liberal lean-in shit sometimes, with her dinosaur cull comment at Argestes, or with overplaying the hand she thought she had at Tern Haven.

She was viscerally angry at having to take the photo with Mencken, and perhaps angrier still when ATN called the election for him. Not because he's a fascist, although he is, and not because she dislikes him--although she does! She was angry primarily because the photo nuked any chance of a political career for her going forward, and because the call for Mencken hurt her chances with Matsson.

Did she ever make any of that clear in the moment, though? No. She talked about fascism and morals and things do happen, Rome. It is easier to wear that cloak that sometimes helps her--the woman cloak, where she claims to care for the group that she belongs to and steps upon its members at the same time--than it is to admit personal rage or vulnerability. That would be hysterical, and grasping, and not CEO material.

Shiv's relationship with womanhood is like Peter Pan's with his shadow. She used to be able to cast it off, or feel like she could, and now it is sewn in to her very fabric: it's everywhere she fucking walks.

She hates that there is not a play she can make that will separate her from the group of women-who-experience-misogyny. And still she makes use of that group, because it's one of an increasingly limited set of options she has. She was never allowed to gain experience--so she's inexperienced, and implausible, and shut out. It's the treehouse, again, Kendall up there playing king of the fucking castle. Shiv must have spent some holidays like that: Roman might have stayed with his mom in England on shorter breaks from military school, and Shiv was left to snotty, whickering horses and fucking tennis, throwing rocks up at Kendall whenever she saw a limb emerge from a window or doorway.

Anyway, if Shiv can't have the high ground, at least she can try to claim the moral one when it suits her. That's what I see as the context for her jab about Andrew Dodds.

[bidonica]

“Stannis craves love and approval” is this just in romantic relationships or in general? He seems to want Roberts love and approval a lot. also renly’s approval- is that out of love or wanting obedience do you think? And with no father but also no mother or female figure in his life more marriage. Do you think he’d be the same if he had a sister? Or do you think he’d be too sexist to be close to her even if she gave him love and probably?

I don't think Stannis *necessarily* wants romantic love, but as you noted, he grew up without a normal support system, on top of literally witnessing his parents die. I believe Stannis loved his brothers deeply, and his tragedy is that not only their personalities don't naturally align with his (though being different doesn't mean being incompatible; sometimes it's quite the contrary), but circumstances worked to exacerbate a divide that, in an ideal world, might not have gotten that deep. Instead, Stannis got parentified more than Robert, who got the chance to fuck off to the Vale where he found surrogate father and brother figures in Jon Arryn and Ned Stark. Stannis was the one who had to hold the family castle during an excruciating siege, making difficult choices. Stannis was the one who looked after little Renly. More often than not, he found himself in the position of head of the family, while getting none of the recognition and all of the responsibility. He sacrificed the kid who cared about crippled animals to become the man he was asked to be - by Robert, by society at large (something something the real enemy is the patriarchy and it doesn't only hurt women) - hard, unbending, and with thick emotional walls built around him. And it's not paying dividends. His older brother died without actual legitimate heirs and his younger brother thought nothing better than to seize the chance to try and jump to the front of the succession line, just because he's good at PR.

It's not just infuriating for Stannis as a blow to his pride and blatant disregard of the laws their whole political system hinges on, it's the depressing realization that he's basically no one's first choice, not even of the brother he helped raise. An awful lot of his political support is actually brought in by his Florent wife, who has better connections than him - the theoretical prince of Dragonstone. We see only two people *believing* in Stannis: first Davos, and then Melisandre. The fact that she is so stalwart in her belief that Stannis is the Chosen One, and without asking anything in return (now she is the one living the ascetic life in her own way) is something that's pretty much unprecedented in Stannis' life. That's why I think he fell for it pretty easily - though "fell for it" is a bit unfair to Mel, since she also sincerely believes in her mission. Too bad she's wrong. And yeah I think that the fact that he got some sort of companionship out of having her by his side was a plus for Stannis, though he will never admit it. But that's Stannis, he wants things but can't even admit it to himself, which is true even in its darker permutation, because he essentially committed kinslaying by proxy, and he can lie to himself but deep down he's bearing that guilt. I bet that's what's consuming him besides his body taking the toll for being involved in shadowbinding.

As for a hypothetical sister… I don’t know, too many variables. What kind of person would she be? Would she love him, hate him, make fun of him? I think that might influence their theoretical relationship more than her gender.

[aspoonfuloffiction]

What do you think Edwina was actually looking for in a husband? She never listens to Kate about Anthony and whenever he’s there she chooses him over Lumley, Kate’s choice. She says she values Kate’s opinions but she constantly ignores them and only brings it up again when she realizes the truth (totally not hating on Edwina and I think she 100% has a right to be angry at the end of the season) it seems like the writers decided to keep that aspect from the book but then ignore it completely in the show

I actually don’t know what Edwina is looking for in a husband and I think she doesn’t know either.

I think its really interesting that when Anthony proposes she says “Yes I will be your viscountess” not “I’ll be your wife” and certainly no declarations of love.

Because sure Edwina didn’t know about the Sheffield plot but she knew that there was a very specific type of people that she could marry. Titled nobility. That is basically what she was told. Remember in episode 1 some Duke or Earl asks for a dance and Edwina looks to Kate and Kate approves because he appropriately titled so Edwina gets to dance.

So Edwina when states her type she’s like maybe he’ll be a Duke or a Prince but she never identifies what personality traits she likes. I get the sense she’s never actually thought about it.

And yeah Kate kept pushing Lumley on Edwina…but I rewatched that scene for this ask and I didn’t find anything Edwina seemed to like about Lumley. Everything about their day at the Ascot was Kate’s doing-she set it up, she chaperoned, she was the one furthering that conversation until Anthony shows up.

If you rewatch the scene Edwina doesn’t really talk to Lumley. They have one aside that Edwina loves to read, he brings up Byron, but Edwina says she doesn’t read poetry, so Kate jumps in about how he can teach her. But that’s the extent of Edwina and Lumley’s conversation because then Anthony crashes their “date”. Edwina with Lumley comes off bored to me

Edwina values Kate’s opinion—she agrees to not go near Anthony, she sticks to Kate’s list. But it is her marriage. Does Edwina have to marry a man just because Kate said so? Kate liked Lumley therefore Edwina must marry him? That seems cruel…

Ultimately I think it comes down to Edwina’s episode 6 speech. (I genuinely recommend just rewatching that scene in the chapel without considering the ships at hand just the content of the speech-I think it pretty well describes Edwina’s hurt) That Kate has been projecting her dreams onto Edwina (which we know is because Kate doesn’t believe herself to be worthy of her own dreams not until she talks to Mary in episode 8).

Kate bound down by her own trauma was living vicariously through Edwina. And Kate only ever means well, she truly has Edwina’s best intentions at heart but Kate forget Edwina has to live with that life. Because she has older sister blinders on. And from experience I know those are very blinding.

Kate likes Lumley so Edwina will like Lumley and marry him but Edwina barely talks to him. Kate doesn’t like Anthony so Edwina can’t go near him except that they had a connection at the Queen’s Ball. Kate thinks Edwina should be with Anthony so Edwina has to live with a man who’s admitted that he will want her sister for the rest his life.

At no point does anyone ask Edwina to make an informed decision about her own future until the DAY of her publicly fallen apart wedding.

TLDR: I think if Edwina is on a journey of self discovery one of the things she may consider is what it is she likes in a partner *cough*women*cough*. Maybe she like scholars or maybe she likes politicians. But that regardless she cannot keep living her mom or sister or society’s aspirations.

Sidebar though: I think its really interesting that at the little talent show-what truly interests Edwina in Anthony is the belief that he is the type of man her father would have liked. The kind of man he described for his daughters. And Edwina is right except she is just the wrong daughter.

[generallypo]

in all sincerity, kim dokja makes me happy and he deserves to be so too :^(

incoherent yelling and sobbing under the cut. these fEELINGS will not be contained aaauuunnghhh. 

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anyway i binge-read all 500+ chapters of ORV this week and i honest to god feel bad for this -- completely! fictional! aghhhh -- guy. in case you haven’t figured it out, the following is some spoilerly shit

i went in expecting a fun, brainless power trip fantasy for dudes with an isekai addiction. instead, it turns out ORV is actually a gigantic, self-deprecating prank on the entire genre itself. kdj plays more into the sad -- if high-functioning-- clown trope than the sexy, edgy, chuuni bastard type i was prepared to laugh at. there were -- gasp! -- female characters with personalities! parents (aka ADULTS who act like ADULTS) who actually survive and feature prominently! adorable children! a real sexy, edgy bastard! a power trio with amazing fashion! sexual tension and bickering! friendship! life and death bonding! 

*breathes in deeply* fouND FAMILYYYYYYY.

like, yeah, the plot around the first few arcs seems a little aimless, but the buildup is worth. the world-building is pretty decent. there’s discernible effort put into the fight scenes, and i can appreciate that. but -- but! what i stayed for were the characters -- namely, the fantastic OT3 of KDJ, HSY, and YJH -- who come together despite their initial rivalries and end up saving each other’s asses, like, every other day. granted, the other characters don’t get as much focus, and they do fall into certain character tropes.. 

but a trope done well is nothing i would gripe about. every significant character in ORV has a coherent, and more importantly, respectful take on their respective trope. maybe it’s because sing-shong is actually a married couple, but all the interactions between even minor characters are a convincing blend of awkward rambling, suggestive humor, sharp remarks, and casual banter. in other words, this cast of mostly working adults (plus a teen and two kids) talks like working adults. the relationships built throughout the story are, frankly, some of most realistic of its genre. sing-shong has managed to craft a dynamic that undoubtedly brims with fluffy fondness all around, but also drips with sarcastic tension, with unspoken urgency, with a wariness that softens into sincerity over the course of many, many chapters. it’s the kind of progression that makes even stock characters read like more than just the 2-bit villain or comrade or love interest. here, we have relationships both straightforward and not, strained or otherwise, romantically-oriented as well as decidedly the opposite -- and then numerous others scattered along the spectrum with the freedom to shift either way. 

it’s also an interesting point of note that our MC kdj actually does not end up with a stated romantic partner, much less a conventional heteroromantic harem. he gets teased about that fact from time to time, but it’s with less of the sleazy shonen locker room humor one would expect and more of the good-natured ribbing you’d find among friends or that one especially nosy auntie at the yearly family reunion. kdj is a grown ass man. in the background, i applaud his maturity, and he handles all the prodding like a champ. 

so instead of finding and fulfilling his horny, he builds himself a wealth of loving family. yeah, there are beautiful men and women around him. yeah, they unequivocally adore him. but they’re also adults, and they have priorities, too -- which are not so much finding a way to bang kdj’s brains out and more so simply keeping the damn guy alive. this is truly not ‘oblivious mc with his thirsty, sex kitten harem’. it just so happens that a guy proves himself to be unflinchingly gentle and capable in an apocalyptic setting despite his broken self-esteem, and lots of people find that attractive, romantically and platonically. 

it.. kinda makes sense? he’s a hard worker, thoughtful, and good with kids. kdj is the kind of guy you know would make a reliable partner, and anybody with eyes can plainly see and appreciate that. 

and it’s not that our MC’s a total brick wall. in fact, it’s likely the opposite, and he’s just too darned repressed to admit it. from what has been implied, kdj does indeed recognize and accept love, or at least a primitive concept of it. i like to imagine that the kind of love that he ends up seeking out simply manifests itself more easily as acceptance and safety, as warmth and a home of people to return to every day. even better, the people who surround him know this, and they give him exactly that. it’s refreshing, and honestly, really sweet.

(as a side note, i really, really do appreciate the cosmic bi energy radiating off of kdj, who canonically earns the title of being loved by all and is all but in name married to yjh and hsy. he also respects women and small children and honestly anyone who isn’t total scum to him or his family. i respect that.)

but the happy stuff aside, you know it it just ain’t ORV without the generous screaming dollop of angst. admittedly, there’s self-sacrifice, injury, lonesome wandering, more sacrifice, some epic fighting, reunion and confrontation. all of it is a lot to digest, sure, but never does it feel entirely hopeless, or truly, truly heart-clenching. ORV, up until the final act, is a mostly light read. you relax in your chair, thinking that nothing beyond this point can disturb you. 

yeah fucking right.

------

and then the beginning of the end arrives. when the squad finally break through to their ‘ending’, the scene that kind of breaks me is the reveal of the Most Ancient Dream. it ties so much thematically into the little tidbits that we get of kdj’s past, and it though it feels like almost a joke that the source of the goddamn apocalypse is a kid with bruises smeared across his skinny ass body -- it’s such a pathetic picture that it’s kinda poetic, actually. you’re left mystified but somewhat convinced, like a math problem explained halfway through. this.. child.. is a villain somehow, isn’t he?

and then 999th turn uriel speaks up, and she. just. hugs him. 

[[You are this universe’s most powerless existence, aren’t you.]] 

that. that gets me. kdj’s reaction immediately upon this revelation? absolute murder. seeing him essentially self-destruct upon realizing that all these people he’s surrounded himself with -- some who continuously proclaim their loyalty and affection for him throughout their journey, some who suffered eons of war and loss and trauma because of his existence -- not only forgive his younger self but smother him with unconditional acceptance and love is stifling, is too vulnerable and exposed and he simply can’t cope -- it’s so telling of his true mentality, of his crippling insecurity and crumpled sense of self-worth. kim dokja is a liar, through and through, so much that he fails, or perhaps refuses, to comprehend the veracity of others’ kindness and love towards himself. 

by some miracle, the events at the end of the world somehow resolve.. or so it seems. there is a departing train, a liberated team of ex-gods, and a child rousing from his slumber. in the aftermath, i am left shaking. somehow, despite the ending having been (happily?) reached, there’s still another chapter ahead. what is this witchcraft?

------

and then ah, yes -- the epilogue arc. i teetered on the edge of being critical for a little bit there -- is that display of deus ex machina, of sad, self-sacrificing nobility a bit too egregious to be acceptable? is this some wild last let-me-yank-this-outta-my-ass plot twist to drag out the chapter count? i sincerely thought that the arc before it would have been the finale. i was wrong. thank god.

anyways, as an answer to the above: no, and no. i stake my firm claim on the belief that the epilogue arc was meticulously planned out well in advance of its release, confusing and time-warpy as it is. i liked it. tremendously. even if it entirely invalidates all of kdj’s supposed development (”haha lol yeah sure i won’t sacrifice myself or anything anymore guys don’t worry about me” -- KDJ, at some point because he’s a lying rat bastard). actually, our beloved MC disappears for a large chunk of this arc, and i think it’s great. in his absence, the other characters not only go absolutely fucking nuts, but they have to figure out this new problem on their own, even if the lure of peaceful complacency in the newly saved Korea might convince them otherwise. 

and then the whole time paradox thing comes around. yjh goes to space, hsy saves the only life she can, and kdj grows up. the crew waits, holding onto their hope even if it bleeds them dry. sing-shong does a damn good job of illustrating their fraying calm, their lurking madness, the unseen but pervasive depression that seeps in from kdj’s absence. the kids lose their father, lhs and jhw lose their reliable leader figure, ysa loses a best friend and confidant, lsk -- as distant as she pretends to be from her son -- loses her only child. and then there’s hsy and yjh , who are essentially bereft of the other half of their existences. their pain is palpable, is grounded in the hopeless, gnawing frustration of an utterly meaningless victory. emotionally, ORV hits all the right -- if agonizing -- beats.

however, a story can’t sustain itself just��through its pathos. i’m happy to say that ORV doesn’t drop the ball after the first milestone, and after all the hurt, the characters do leap straight back into action. even better, the plot holes actually do get patches, and the poetic cycle of writer, protagonist, and reader comes full circle by making use of all those supposedly throwaway characters from the myriad world lines. 

at the end of the road, there is a distinct sense of unity, of a delicate but undeniable cohesion to the world lines and their origins. sing-shong lets us guess a little here at the finish, but there’s just enough information to feel hopeful. maybe there never had been a definite start -- or finish -- to the story of kdj company, and... that’s okay. everybody ends up where they were meant to be, where they fought and struggled to reach. it’s.. almost like a happily ever after, if we’re allowed to dream of that.

------

now, i realize, this was all an orchestrated maneuver.

i’ll take it.

to me, all of this work sounds like someone put some serious thought into this behemoth of a plot. it cements the entire original premise of the story. it suggests -- but never explicitly confirms! -- the possibility that breaking free of the cycle is possible through the exact same system that sustains it. it’s terribly interesting -- and inspirational! with all the dramatic revelations and life-threatening scenarios  and the cast’s resigned acceptance of them that essentially make up ORV’s entire mood, there’s still that last hint of rebellious and righteous anger that lights up the whole damn nebula. it’s like the kdj company blasting away at the heavens just to yell into the nether: we’re not looking for the happy end, but the free one. stay alive.

it’s subtle, and yet it’s such an emotional gut punch. i came away with the most ruinous, frustrating, bittersweet sense of longing in ages. i pined. for these fictional darlings. god, i am weak.

so. yeah. ORV is pretty good. flawed, but ambitious and impressively thought out.  i’m stoked that the webtoon is making pretty good progress, even if it’ll take an eternity and a half to meet that monstrous chapter count. i’m still gonna follow it. hell yeah. 

------

(by the way the idea that secretive plotter and co are literally gonna take care of and raise baby kdj and spoil him and be the best friggin family a kid could ever want does things to me. protect him. he’s suffered too much. let at least one worldline’s version of him know happiness. and actually, aLL OF THEM DESERVE DOMESTIC BLISS TOGETHER IN A BIG OL MANSION WITH SUN AND FRESH AIR AND TENDER FAMILY MOMENTS UGH)

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and there you have it, folks. you made it to the end. in the far, far distance, i’m cheering you on and crying my eyes out in gratitude. thanks for tuning in!

[poptod]

hello! can i request something romantic with either ahk or snafu or really any rami character where y/n has round dark brown doe eyes? like so dark brown they look black if you’re not looking at them in sunlight? and he’s just flirting with them and he says something nice about their eyes? i have round dark brown eyes and i’m kinda insecure about them cuz they’re so common, and it’s been one shit-show if a week for me and i really just need to feel good about myself

notes: damn, i can totally do that for you. hope your weekend is much better than your week :) thank u for requesting and i hope you enjoy it !

WC: 2k

+

Life never worked naturally to your advantage. You were born average looking – nothing special on either side of the spectrum, with average hands and common dark brown eyes. You grew up poor and worked your ass off to get into a good college on a scholarship, eventually getting kicked out for something you didn't even do. You auditioned to be part of an orchestra, but there were too many violinists already, and you just 'didn't fit the profile'. You tried to be an artist, but no one liked your creations. You tried to pick up another instrument, but you couldn't afford a good one, and the last time you tried to buy a cheap guitar, the neck broke on the third use.

Because of these many happenstances (and the many more, less mentionable ones), you considered yourself unlucky. It was a fact of life for you as much as the sun's existence in other peoples lives, or that the superbowl was too long. Or guacamole wasn't good. Fortunately, the years of nothing ever coming naturally had made you into a fantastic worker, and by some rare stroke of luck, you found you were rather good at physical labor jobs. You weren't strong by any standards – in fact rather weak – but your attention to detail made you the janitor of a prestigious museum you visited twice as a child.

It wasn't a fantastic job, and the poor pay led to having five roommates, but you enjoyed yourself. You tried to do that in every aspect of life; finding the joy in menial tasks, or solace in duty. After all, you got to see wonderful recreations of history in the still wax figures, and learn heaps of knowledge from the many information panels you came across when making your way through the museum. The only truly unfortunate part of your job was the time – right after closing, but you had to finish quickly, as you weren't allowed inside at night. A stupid rule, but the night guard and Dr. McPhee were insistent on it.

They thought you didn't know about the exhibits.

They were, obviously, wrong. You knew, and you adored the magic behind it all. While you hadn't actually ever seen any of the exhibits come to life, you watched the news on an evening where the exhibits broke out, and with your knowledge of the Tablet curse, you pieced the mystery together.

You hadn't meant to take this long. McPhee was already pissed at you for 'accidentally' skipping over the men's restroom yesterday, and taking too long at your job would land you on thin ice, something you couldn't afford. With a hurried pace you finished sweeping the floors in the last room, storing the broom away and moving on to mopping. Checking your watch once more, you noted the time, mentally checking if you would be able to finish before closing hours.

Mopping the Egyptian room usually takes five to ten minutes, and closing is in two, you thought, despair settling in your stomach. What would you do if you 'found out' about the tablet? What would McPhee do if he found out you knew? He wouldn't fire you, would he?

You truly didn't know. He was a bit of a loose cannon when it came to those things.

As fast as you tried to move, the hours of night came faster than you could mop, and the tablet began to glow behind you. Bewildered you turned, watching with your mouth slightly parted as the glow grew to the radiance of the sun. You knew the tablet brought the magic, but you didn't know about the glow – now that you were witnessing it yourself, the only thing you could feel in your pounding heart was fear. A fear that only grew worse when the Pharaoh's sarcophagus began to rattle.

You'd thought about the wax figures coming to life. You thought about the dinosaur. You, however, did not think about the 4,000 year old mummy.

Needless to say, you bolted. Leaving behind your supplies, you ran as fast as you could, wind pounding past your ears as the sound of a lion's roar came from the neighboring hall. You grit your teeth and made for the main entrance, but by the time you got there many of the exhibits had adjoined in the main room. Pressing yourself against the locked door, you watched with wide eyes as the Teddy Roosevelt statue began to talk to Attila, and in that moment you realized that perhaps magic was not always good. Not when you were spiralling into a panic at least.

It took a couple hours of you staring into space before anyone actually noticed you. To your surprise, it wasn't the night guard, or even McPhee – it was a Pharaoh, skin and everything intact. His crown remained polished upon his head, a stark difference from the crowns on exhibit, whose colors and carvings had faded long ago.

"Hello," he said with a pleasant, polite smile as he knelt, matching the height of your seated position on the floor. "Are you a new exhibit?"

You looked down at your clothes. Janitor clothes.

"No," you said, and instantly his demeanor changed.

"Oh dear," he said, and though you agreed with that statement, you certainly did not agree with him grabbing your wrist and dragging you into the crowd.

"I don't really want to be doing this," you said in a shaky voice, but he did not answer.

As he dragged you through the crowd you kept your eyes closed, wary of overstimulation of both ears and eyes. He eventually stopped at the top of the stairs, where you opened your eyes to find the night guard, Larry.

"What are you still doing here?" Larry asked almost frantically, looking between the dancers below and you.

"In my defense I didn't want to be here, I knew about the magic and I don't – I didn't ever want to actually see it," you half-lied.

"How the hell did you know?!"

"You don't do a very good job of covering it up, Larry," you said flatly, your voice still cracking from nerves.

You didn't have very many friends. Your roommates didn't talk to you much, and the life you had outside of work consisted mostly of quiet, indoor hobbies you could do just about anywhere. So, once the whole of the situation was sorted out (with input from McPhee), you took your drawing pads and notebooks to the museum with you, working for the first few hours and drawing into the hours of night while watching history come to life.

Despite your original discomfort of being in the presence of a 100% authentic, come-to-life mummy, you became rather good friends with him. Not fantastic, and he didn't know very much about you, but he was kind and handsome. You hated to admit it, but he held your avid interest. Another one of those unlucky things in your life – of course you had to fall in love with an immortal, reanimated mummy who only came to life at night.

"Why don't you ever come dance with us?" Ahkmenrah (his name, apparently) said as he sat down beside you on the loft, the only barrier between you and a fifteen-foot fall being a stone rail.

"I'm afraid I'm not all that good of a dancer," you said, not bothering to look up from your sketchbook. You couldn't ever bear to look at him that long anyway.

"Neither am I," he laughed. "That's the point."

Instinctively you looked up at him, holding eye contact with his grey eyes for only a second before you looked away, a blush already making its way to your cheeks. He had the opposite of your life – lucky beyond belief. The favorite of his parents, completely immortal, completely beautiful, almost too wealthy, and many, many friends, including yourself.

What got you the most however was his eyes. Cold eyes were already praised in modern society – people loved grey, they loved blue and green. But in Ahkmenrah's society, the one that existed thousands of years ago, blue eyes hardly existed. The mutation for the new color was one in a billion back then, making him one of the (probably) three people on the planet with blue eyes. And now that lucky mutation stood before you in its purest, oldest form, and you couldn't bear to look at them for any longer than a solitary moment.

For some reason, it hurt you. Maybe because you were boring. Dull. Brown in a brown society. Sure, they looked beautiful in sunlight – you knew that. They turned into swirling gold and the taste of chocolate, but Ahk couldn't see them in the sunlight. That made you dull.

Now, Ahkmenrah was not a man to point things out about people. If they were being a dickhead, yes, but most of the time he noted things and dismissed them. But you'd been doing this for so long that he grew weary of the dance.

"Why don't you ever look at me?" He asked, a question that had your eyes widening and your back straightening, alarm bells ringing all over your brain.

"I look at you plenty," you said while avoiding his gaze like a 15th century doctor avoids respecting women.

"No, you don't," he said softly. "Not even now. I wish you would – you've got such beautiful eyes."

Your sketching stopped at his words. At your silence he placed his hand on your jaw, tilting so you looked at him. Instead of meeting his gaze you looked to the floor.

"They're very common," you got out weakly, still unable to make eye contact, but he kept you where you were, in the easy sight of him. "They only look good in the sun."

He shifted closer, keeping his hand on your jaw in hopes of you changing your mind and meeting his eye.

"Even in darkness they're beautiful, voids as empty and long as night," he hummed, drawing closer yet till you could feel the heat off his body on your still fingers. "I've noted them quite a lot. Eyes are a beautiful thing, aren't they?"

"Yours are," you mumbled, barely catching the meaning and insinuation of your words before they came out.

"As are yours. Remember when we snuck into McPhee's office? The lamplight bounced off of them and they practically glittered like the embers and smoke of a fire," he said with a small smile. "And the bright lights in the hallways –"

Florescent, you thought.

"– and the candle lights that Nick brought, those flicker with that same spark within you. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

You couldn't move, stuck in place and stuck in your own head.

"The golden fireplace, Christmas lights – and the light of the moon, a dim, faraway light that can only be admired from a distance... like you," he murmured.

Sometimes you forgot his people were poets and admirers of nature.

"You have blue eyes," you whispered through the knot in your throat. He listened carefully. "And... I can see reflections in them. They're soft, like velvet. Despite everything, they.. you seem... happy. You always seem happy, and your eyes give it away."

"Have you ever kissed anyone?" He asked quietly, and in that moment you realized his nose was almost touching yours.

"No," you answered honestly. Another unlucky aspect of you.

"Neither have I," he said before he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a tender embrace you weren't at all expecting.

From both the view of the first kiss and of a Pharaoh's kiss, you weren't prepared, but the plush of his pink lips against yours sent sparks of delight into your heart. He moved slow, taking his time to map out your aspects just as you began to trail your hands over his open palm, memorizing the creases. You were reluctant to part, but he ran his hand through your hair and your brain short-circuited into placitude.

"You have the softest lips," he murmured, hand coming to cup your cheek once more.

You never applied aquaphor or did anything to make your lips soft.

Maybe it was luck.

Didn't really matter to you, because he kissed you again, and your eyes fluttered shut as everything in the world but him faded away.

[illfoandillfie]

ok sorry but how many people do yall think rog has ever slept with cos i’m guessing four figures no lie

okay, i don’t normally respond to messages like this because, frankly, i dont really feel like its my place to speculate on roger’s sex life. Theres a difference between writing a fiction story with a character named after and inspired by him and discussing his actual personal life which i have no real knowledge about. What he gets up to in his free time is between him and the women he does it with. but i didn’t really feel able to ignore this one. please don’t take this as me telling you off or shutting you down or anything like that. If you want to speculate about roger’s body count thats up to you, go nuts with it. and i love when you guys message me and I don’t want to discourage you from feeling like you can talk to me or just send me your random thoughts or whatever about any subject. But I feel like I need to address why I disagree with this sentiment. Also so I can ask ya’ll to please stop asking me questions like this. 

So firstly, just to get this out of the way. 1000 is a lot. even 100 is a lot. I think if rog had slept with 1000+ people he’d have a least a few illegitimate kids and probably would have been checked into rehab for sex addiction (not to mention STIs and such because lbr people in the 70s specifically probs werent the most careful especially if drugs were involved). I mean even if we were going to say Rog got lucky with a different woman after every show we wouldn’t reach 1000. According to google, Queen played around 700 shows in their entire career. If we add shows played by The Cross thats only another 67 odd shows (according to wikipedia). 

now, i think there are 3 things that contribute to this idea of roger as especially promiscuous. 1. His attitude/demeanour/general way he sells himself. 2. the generally held conceptions about rock stars and rock star behaviour. and 3. what i’m going to call fandom dumbassery (but i mean that with a lot of love) 

So lets start with the man himself. Roger Taylor is loud and opinionated and not particularly humble. He knows he’s talented and attractive though for at least some time he was a little self-conscious about how feminine he looked. He’s always up for a laugh, likes to party and has admitted to enjoying his drink and his women. He’s had kids with two different women, who’s relationships “overlapped”, and is currently married to a third. At least that’s the perception we can gleam from his interviews, behind the scenes videos, and other public appearances. 

It’s easy to see how that image leads to accusations of being a womaniser and a cheater and basically a bit of a slut lmao. But here’s the thing. I think Roger, in part, markets himself that way. The thing is, if you look at his solo songs and the relationships he currently has with his kids and their mothers, and things other people have said about him/his relationships over the years, I think it’s fair to say he also has a bit of a romantic streak maybe? idk if thats the best way of describing it...he’s self confessed to not being a fan of marriage and the like but he’s not opposed to writing and singing love songs and seems to believe in ~love~ as a concept/power. He certainly cares deeply for those closest to him. Whether or not that translates to an agreement with monogamy I can’t say for certain. It’s hard to draw conclusions here because a lot of what we know of his personal life was fed to us through magazines and news paper gossip column articles and they were never looking for the truth, they were looking for scandal and sensationalism. 

For instance the whole thing with the overlapping relationships. I think most people who have read anything about roger and dom and debbie realise that it’s not as cut and dry as “he was cheating with debbie and left dom for her” even though that was the story being sold by the press at the time. The reality (or at least the version closer to reality since obviously no one outside of them and whoever they were closest with knows all the nitty gritty details) is that rog and dom had already split when they got married. it was a marriage of convenience to make sure her and the kids would be looked after financially etc even after he’d moved out. So while it looked to the public like he married one chick and 30 odd days later was spotted with another, there really wasn’t anything untoward happening.  I’m not saying he never had casual hookups or one night stands and i’m not saying he never cheated, but I do think some of it’s been exaggerated, whether by him to encourage the rock star perception or by newspaper/magazine articles.

Now, obviously, we have stories of rog, particularly in the late 60s and into the 70s, being with multiple women. There’s that bit in the Interview with a Queen “Groupie” (which is a fantastic read and i defs recommend checking it out if you havent already) where she talks about roger being a chick magnet and says that, at the time, it was pretty common to sleep about. But, she also says she didnt notice him doing it more or less than anyone else and seemed to mostly be with Jo (his girlfriend at the time). This is the same Jo that got a mention in the Queen in 3D book (”i think we all had the feeling that these two were together for life, but it was not to be”). Conversely, we have that quote (which i cannot find rn but i’ll link it when i do) about roger sometimes having one girl upstairs while another waited in the garage for them to be finished. I think it was about Rog in the mid-late 60s in Truro but whatever. Obviously he wasn’t anywhere near celibate and it’s likely was sleeping with people outside of his relationship(s). But one has to assume that as he got older those kinds of antics stopped happening, at least as frequently.

There is one potential story that I remember reading somewhere along the way about Roger cheating on Debbie while she was pregnant. But, take that with a grain of salt because I can’t find the article again and also I think it was from like The Sun or something equally as rubbish. The press was notoriously always printing mean shit about the boys and that might have been another thing they published to create scandal. Even so, if we assume it’s legit that is still only 1 story. Not to throw him under the bus but Brian is the one with multiple confirmed affairs, who literally wrote songs about it all. So why is Roger the one with sleazy reputation? 

This is where my second and third points come in. There is a pervasive idea about what it means to be a rock star. The whole trashing hotel rooms, sleeping with groupies, passing out drunk every night thing. And I’m sure that Queen was like that to an extent. I think it’s pretty common knowledge that all of them got up to shit on the road. Between innuendo laden interviews and songs, videos and accounts of their parties, stories CT has put online, and other stories like the one of Roger bringing out lines of coke as dessert when he was having dinner with motley crue. They definitely embraced the rock and roll lifestyle. And I think with Roger’s personality being what it is, it’s easy to link him to those traditional rock star tropes and say it was all true all the time. I also think Roger has done nothing to counter those beliefs. He’s been open about how he wanted to be a rock star since the minute he picked up a guitar, he’s labelled himself as a great lay in magazines, he’s joked about girls pulling their tits out over dinner in interviews (though he said he didnt take her home), he’s written songs like One Night Stand and Dirty Mind and Airheads which explicitly mention his preference for women and alcohol. I think it’s fair to say he’s kind of encouraged that view of himself. Whether it was just a side effect of being part of such a well known band and having such a boisterous demeanour/personality, or whether it was intentional as a version of promotion i don’t know. maybe a mix of them? I mean I’m sure it didn’t hurt sales and stuff. it’s the whole guys want to be him, girls want to be with him thing, right? Maybe that’s just me being cynical though lmao. 

Anyway, the fandom brain has taken all of that and compressed it into memes and jokes about rog being the band slut. Which i’m not complaining about, lord knows i’ve made the same jokes and reblogged the same posts and used those tropes in my fics. They’re funny and lend themselves to interesting fic concepts. Plus, i think roger is the sort of person who would probably laugh about most of it. But it’s an idea that keeps feeding into itself through fandom, perpetuating what is probably a misguided view of his personal life.

Again, I am sure he’s had his fair share of fun and I’m not trying to make out that he was always perfect or whatever, but I don’t think he’s been with as many women as the popular discourse would imply and I certainly don’t think he’s in the 4 digit numbers. 

[one-piece-dumpster-fire]

Hello! Please Headcanon : Kid, X Drake, Law and Katakuri with their girlfriends who have a complex with their small boobs (soft and NSFW) ;) :*

Hey love :D Aww that’s a cool idea xD! But since it would exceed my characterlimit to do both seperate sfw and dirty headcanon for this, I kind of merged it together into one headcanon hehe xD Hope that’s okay^^

here goes a warning for mild dirt ahead~!

Having a girlfriend with a complex about her small boobs headcanon

Eustass Kid

you’re not the only one who’s got a‘little’ problem with your boobs here…

jk jk, but when you first took off yourshirt infront of him, Kid was half-expecting to be greeted by some big ol'bazongas hecould bury his face inbetween… so seeing them for the first time, the pirate couldn’t help but blurt out something like „that’s it?“ god can he be an insensitive prick sometimes

it’s not the end of the world though-boobs are boobs, and whether yours are small or huge, he’ll definitely be ableto make the most use out of it! As a wise man once said, ‘the smaller the marshmallows, the more sugar you can find inside’- a wisdom Kid lives by from now on

sure, having some soft, big pillows tosqueeze and hold onto would be nice too, but your bust being a bitsmaller is actually somewhat special! Given how every woman on theGrandline is equipped with a deadly pair of water balloons upfront, thiscould actually be something different and exciting!

besides, he can even cup a whole boob of yours in his single hand! I repeat, your whole boob fits in his hand- it’s almost like they were made for it!

about your complex though… he’sreally not very helpful when it comes to supporting you and getting rid of yourinsecurities

at first Kid might even suggest for youto buy a push-up bra or get something to put inside of it (if that makes youfeel any better), only to later realize that his insensitive comments might onlyfurther push your negative perception of your chest

aaargh, woman and their sensitive body images! If nothing else works, then he’ll just be blunt and tellyou that he enjoys your little pillows, regardless of their size- andyou should too!

now, as for being naughty… there are justso many ways for the pirate to tease you, it’s like a whole new world of possibilities! Kid isused to big-busted women, so he actually has somewhat of a challengehere and needs to thoroughly explore all of his options to get max satisfaction! Oh lord, there will be so much poking and groping and slapping and squishing and rubbing….

and since they are so smol he simply loves to roughly grope them and squeeze themagainst each other, basically creating a little crack he can bury his nose in hey hey, it’s almost like with big boobs!

X Drake

this almost feels like a blessing from above, not gonna lie

look, he appreciates big boobs just as much as the next guy, but they just make the Dino so damnnervous. Like, where should you even start touching them??? When isit too much? When too little? What if he accidentally breaks them orhurts you

your smaller breasts are just so…handy. Literally. Plus, he can easily touch them while also observing yourreaction- bigger hooters often tend to obscure his vision a bit, and so Drake can never really 100% tell how his partner feels unless he lifts his head and looks them in the face… and that can really tear one out of the moment. Especially when you’re looking for reassurance rather often, like he is

now it’s not that he would particularly mind if they were bigger, but you’re just perfect to him the wayyou are! And after all, everything got its pros and cons, right?

so… he wouldn’t really understand whyyou seem so unhappy with your breasts

Drake is definitely supportive and readyto do everything to make you feel comfortable in your own skin. If it might help, then the Dino would even accompany you whenever you need to go underwear shopping! But of course he’d almost passout when you try them on and show him the garments 

at the end of day you could even beabsolutely flat and he wouldn’t mind- it’s not the size that mattersto him, but the reaction he gets from touching them

…. and ohhhh boy, does he love touching them! One day, with a super flustered expression oh his face, Drake might even admit that to you- perhaps himbeing honest about how much he appreciates your body could help boost yourconfidence a bit!

in bed he’s usually a bit of anall-rounder and wouldn’t necessarily dwell on a certain body part ofyours, but with the knowledge of your little ‘complex’ he usuallytakes some extra time to tend to your chest and show you just howmuch he adores it

Drake is always trying to be very soft with your breasts. There are lots of sweet kisses and gentle sucking, sometimes he even sniffs them- it’s just so comforting to have your boobs close to his face, and more than once will the Dino need to hold himself back from just straight-up marking them!

Trafalgar Law

he’s a bit 50/50 on it- like Kid, Lawalso got a thing for rather big jingles, but your boobs being smallerin size is no real issue for him

I mean, at least you have boobs. And they’re still very pretty. What more could he ask for…?

any worries coming from you will simply beshrugged off at first. You got a wonderful body and not a single health-related problem concerning your chest, so ittakes quite a bit until Law actually catches on to the real issue and realizes just how much having small boobs bothers you

ahh yes, the surgeon can see what might be going on here- the common belief that‘a woman needs big breasts in order to be attractive’ strikes yet again

on one hand he can understand whyhaving smaller breasts, especially in a place like the boob-equippedGrandline, could make you feel less confident, but have you everconsidered this- he doesn’t care

Law has always been more about brainsrather than body, and in his opinion you actually got both. Why would he careabout your boobs not being as bloated and jiggly as most women’s are…?Infact, this actually sets you aside from the crowd!

they’re also a great example of your bodybeing 100% healthy and well proportioned, something not everyone can say for themselves on these seas. But the point Law is trying to make here is- don’t. worry. about. your. breasts.

…however if that doesn’t help and you continue to be sad because of it, then the surgeon would eventually offer you surgery. Not thathe’d want that to happen, but it’s your decision to make and Law wants you tofeel confident with yourself

in bed though, he’s… perhaps a bit roughwith them. Unlike Drake who got all soft once he found out about yourinsecurities, Law will actually use this knowledge to further tease and edgeyou on!

he’s obviously testing your boundaries and wants to push you to the point where you’ll just go ‘fuck it’ and enjoy your breasts for what they are- little pillows stored with lots of energy and desire

Katakuri

the immediate need to protect his small boobed gfis strong in this one

first time you show him, he almost bursts withadoration. Is it wrong of him to think that you are just absolutelypretty and adorable…? Every single inch of your body is perfect for him, both inshape as well as size

okay, but then again- Katakuri is basically a giant compared to you, so him finding you adorable is kind of mandatory

especially because he adores you so much, Katakuri will immediately shut down any negativity regardingyour boob size before you can even open your mouth. You and yourboobs are wonderful the way they are, so don’t even think about complaining about them around him!

however, he isn’t going to just shut you down when you’re feeling really doubtful of yourself. Perhaps getting another opinion on this matter might be helpful- we all know that most of his sisters were also blessed with large bazookas, but they all got some insecurities of their own to share as well

and hereby Charlotte Katakuri indirectly founded the Tottland self-help group therapy- a rare event where people can gather to help each other with their problems and insecurities. And he did this all to help you get over your own worries

in his eyes, small boobs are nothing to be ashamedof- look, he’s got his imperfections too, but you are by far better thanthis! So don’t you ever hide them, especially from him

he’s pretty blunt about how much heloves their soft feeling and how he can basically devour them wholeand at the same time with his mouth- oh Katakuri just loves to see you blush as aresult of his dirty words, and hopefully this will distract you or make you feel a bit better!

and if you think that he isn’t going to try out some good old fashioned foodplay on them, then you got another thing coming- as long as you’re okay with it, he’d love to use your chest and abdomen as serving tray for his donuts. In fact, he might even directly eat the sugary treats off of your skin if you’re comfortable with it- not only could that help with you overcoming your worries, but it also shows how okay he is with openly using his biggest imperfection- his deformed mouth- while being intimate with you! 

not to mention aaaaaall the body worship. Katakuri ain’t gonna stop being an absolute sweetheart until you’re 100% comfortable and proud with your body, just how he likes it. After all, that’s certainly when you’re at your very hottest!

[screamingatanemptyroom]

I Refuse to be a Named Character Pt 6

Hey Everyone I’m back! New job has definitely kicked my butt, but I’m kicking back! I’m going to try to write more and maybe post smaller updates in the meantime! So probably another part or two to finish off this tale! 

Master post linked here! 

Enjoy!

________________________________

“The others are fighting for all the advantages they can get prior to the first party tonight.” 

The masked servant knelt on the cold floor without any sign of discomfort, reporting in a dispassionate tone. His master sat on the windowsill, staring out into the gardens, a single finger tracing patterns in the condensation on the glass.

“How many keys do my brothers control?” Luke’s voice was cold, as if he didn’t care much about the answer that every nobleman in the city would give all their possessions to know.

“None. Prince Graham’s mother has bought over some relations of the third, fifth and eighth Lords, and Prince Fetter has been blackmailing every servant in the city, but the Ten Lords themselves have not given their loyalties to any prince.“

“Holding out for the highest price?” Luke sneered, his eyes searching the gardens as he spoke. “I can’t imagine those greedy old men having any notions of loyalty or fairness.” 

The servant bowed his head silently.

“So it will actually depend on the three parties? My father should be pleased that his final test will be carried out so well.”

“… Your Highness?” The servant hesitated a long moment before finally speaking up. “Why are you participating in this ridiculous trial? It’s a complete farce! With your forces…”

“It is none of your concern.” The chill in his voice seemed to freeze the air between them. 

“…Very well, Your Highness.”

“She still sees something worthwhile in me.” He muttered quietly. “I won’t betray that.” His eyes caught a glimpse of a figure walking along one of the garden’s pathways through the glass, and his gaze softened, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

“If there’s nothing else, let’s end it here.”

“…” The masked servant didn’t move, staying in his kneeling position. Although his expression couldn’t be seen, his discomfort could be felt as he fidgeted in place. As the silence dragged on, Luke reluctantly looked away from the person in the gardens, turning towards the masked man with a frown.

“What is it? Something important?”

“I’m… not sure.” The man’s brows knitted together. “It’s a little… unusual more than anything.”

Luke waved a hand. “Well? Go ahead.”

“There’s been a… movement? A religion?” He shook his head. “Perhaps ‘cult’ would best describe it… spreading amongst the servants and craftsman in the capital.”

“I see.” Luke raised an eyebrow. “And why is this my concern?”

“Well, partly because the majority of your servants have taken part… but also because of its source.” The servant looked away from the prince’s gaze, uncomfortable. “You see… it’s a peculiar belief system, that states that by casting off one’s name and identity, one can avoid the deadly trouble and world and live a happy life.”

“…” Staring at the kneeling man for a few stunned moments, Luke couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh loudly. “How many have joined this cult?”

“Well… it began with just a handful among the areas she lived in… but it seems to have spread like a wildfire.”

“Of course.” A grinned tugged at the prince’s lips. “She can’t help but draw you in.”

“Your Highness…”

“Leave it be, unless you judge there’s any danger to her.” He turned back to the window, a finger tracing over the glass outlining the person in question. “Go make sure all my forces stand ready in case something goes wrong.” 

“Yes, Milord.” With a brief nod, the masked man quietly exited, leaving Luke alone.

“I’ll play by the rules while I can, but I won’t let you get hurt.”

He whispered a name, so quietly even he could barely hear it.

________________________________

“So you’re saying that in our story, all important characters are doomed to die bloody, violent deaths?” The servant girl stared up at me with an awed expression, making me slightly uncomfortable.

“All except the main hero and main villain, yes.” I nodded my head slowly.

“And that’s why you don’t have a name?” The young man next to her smiled with understanding.

I hesitated at his expression, but finally answered slowly. “Yes. I’m just an unimportant, nameless side character. Fading into the background.”

“A nameless side character.” The small group of servants repeated reverently after me, their eyes bright and excited. 

“…” 

Something’s… off. When I had originally been asked by one of the servant’s in Luke’s quarters why I didn’t have a name, I hadn’t thought much of it. Without mentioning the “transported into a book world” bit, I had explained my theory that all important characters died terribly.

 It had apparently struck a nerve. 

Ever since that day, that servant had been bringing small groups to talk to me, sometimes up to several times a day. They all seemed eager to listen, despite my increasingly wary replies. Even stranger, I had noticed that the servants in the household no longer called each other by name. 

What is going on?

“There you are!” A pleasant voice called out, interrupting my uncomfortable musings. 

“Luke!” I turned with a smile, waving goodbye to the group I had been talking to earlier.

“He has a name…”

“Fool! His Highness is a main character!”

I thought I heard some muttering behind me, but right then Luke reached out, grabbing my hand and distracting me.

“Having fun starting a new religion?” 

“Pardon?” I cocked my head to the side, confused. He stared at me for a few moments before laughing, the delighted sound making me grin back . 

“Never mind, as long as you’re happy.” He squeezed my hand gently. “Ready for the party tonight?”

“I’m going?” The thought made me nervous. It would be the final trial, so all the princes would be there. Fetter…  Graham… I swallowed uncomfortably. I hadn’t seen Graham or his mother since our last run in, and I wasn’t looking forward to it. 

“Who else would be willing to stand by my side?”

“And you… you’re participating?” I couldn’t help but ask; feeling confused. In the book his character hadn’t taken part in the parties at all, simply attacking the city at the night of the third party instead and trying to take the throne by force. It had been a vicious, bloody attack, every horrifying detail described. It was the final straw that made me unable to finish the fourth book Chloe had lent me.

Now I wished I had finished it despite how awful it was to read. I don’t even know what happened to Luke after the attack on Western City. Was he successful? Had he gotten hurt? Anxiety pierced my chest at the thought. He was so different from his character in Deadly Crown, but I wasn’t sure if it would help or hurt him.

How much have I changed the story?

Luke pulled me over to sit next to him on one of the benches in the garden. “It’s true, I don’t have the strongest political skills… that’s Fetter. And I don’t have a large base of support… that’s Graham. It seems like a hopeless cause.” Despite his depressing words however, he was smiling brightly at me.

“Then why are you so happy?” 

“Because you’re by my side.” He chuckled. “Winning isn’t important. We just need to stay alive, and then once they no longer see me as a threat, you and I can go live a life of obscurity in the woods together.” He paused, thinking it over. “Or the desert, if you like, since Blade has named you her successor.”

I shook my head, ignoring the outlandish statement at the end to focus on the point of his words. “So you don’t want the crown?” My tone held some disbelief as I studied his eyes. If he truly never wanted the throne, he could have abdicated at the very start.

Luke didn’t look away, meeting my gaze head on. “I did once.” He admitted it openly, his smile sad. “But it was never for me. It was for my mother.”

“Your mother.” That surprised me. The book had never mentioned her.

“She was from the desert. She and Blade grew up together, but while Blade is a fierce warrior… my mother was the opposite.” He stared down at the ground, a bitter expression taking over his face. “She was kind, loving… far too trusting to be a woman in the Royal Court.”

I pulled his hand into my lap, holding it between my two hands. It was cold, despite the warmer temperature in the garden around us. 

“She loved the king, despite his faults, his many women… his cold nature.” Luke’s eyes closed slowly, hiding the pain I could see in his eyes. “The man cares for no one but himself, but she gave her heart to him. She always hoped that he and I would get along, but I was only ever a disappointment to His Majesty.” He laughed softly, but it was not a happy sound.

“How…?” The question I wanted to ask died on my lips, I couldn’t say the words. I didn’t want to force him to remember, to make him hurt anymore than he already was. But even though I stopped myself, he understood what I wanted to know. Taking a deep breath, he continued to speak, his tone flat, as if discussing a long forgotten history, or the weather, rather than the death of his only family member.

“Poison. I still don’t know who did it. Plenty of people with reason to. My mother was beautiful, favored by the King more than most of the other woman who had born him children. She died slowly, fading away in front of me into skin and bones, and there was nothing I could do. But no matter how much it must have hurt her, she continued to smile, to hope I would live happily without hatred or fear.” His voice cracked towards the end, his eyelashes damp from the tears he was trying to hold back.

I reached out, hugging him tightly, and slowly he lowered his head, resting it on my shoulder. His ragged breath felt warm on my neck as he slowly regained his calm. “So you decided to win the crown to avenge her?”

I felt him nod at my words. “They threw me into the Ninth Lord’s household after her death, beat me, cursed me, humiliated me. A useless prince with no backing. But I didn’t give up. I was going to take everything they wanted. The crown, the country, their power and wealth… I would crush it with my own two hands.” His tone was dark. 

“I had planned it out. Get their guard down by participating in the first two trials, and strike while they are fighting and squabbling for power in the final party. Even if only one of them was the one who murdered my mother, they all stood by and watched, seeing it as one less opponent to fight with rather than the death of an innocent woman. I was going to kill them all.” 

And he had… or at least he had tried in the book. I licked my lips nervously, stammering out my next question. “Umm… Are you still going to do that?”

He lifted his head, his tear stained gaze meeting my own. “Would you hate me if I did?”

“Hate?” I didn’t want him to be a villain. I was horrified still at the thought of him becoming a merciless killer like I had read about before. But even so, I couldn’t help but smile at him. “I can’t hate you. If you choose to turn against this world… I’ll fight them all with you.”  

Maybe I’m the real villain in this story.

A hand reached out and brushed the hair away from my eyes. “I don’t want to see you fight the world for me. So win or lose… I’ll play this game until the end.”

I breathed a small sigh of relief, separating from him and standing up, brushing the dirt from my dress. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” His whisper could barely be heard, “That’s only as long as I can keep you safe. If they try to hurt you…”

I met his gaze, seeing a darkness that I didn’t recognize there. “Luke?”

He sighed, standing up and hugging me briefly, before turning back towards the castle. “Let’s get ready for the party.”

________________________________

 By the time the first party started I was already mentally exhausted. Before we had even left, there was a brief fight over what I would wear. My initial suggestion of wearing camouflage and hiding in the bushes was vetoed, not only by Luke, but the entire service staff. Luke’s suggestion of a purple gown, the color only worn by royalty or those married to royalty was also rejected. We went back and forth a few times before deciding on a low key but expensive gown.

As I walked in a few steps behind Luke, I stared down at my ball gown. It was a little too fancy for a nameless side character, which made me nervous, but looking around at the other women in the room, I felt slightly relieved.  Bright colors, large gems and very low necklines seemed to be in style. The dark green color of my gown was less eye-catching, but reminded me of my previous hunting gear, with a high collar open only at the throat, where a simple silver star necklace lay. The sleeves were long and loose, the skirt billowing out but less voluminous then those around me, the style choices allowing me unrestricted movement.

It wasn’t a bad compromise.

As I looked around the room, I realized that the room had separated into groups, each centered around an older man or woman wearing a red sash with a  golden key attached.

The Ten Lords. 

Now that I was looking at them in person, the plot, which had evaded my memory in the past years suddenly, was more clear. In the book, Graham had used the knowledge gained from all his followers he had saved along the way to sway the Lords to his side. Each girl he had rescued, who was desperately in love with him, conveniently knew how to convince one of the Lords.

At the time, it had irritated me. I thought it was the author’s way of explaining why Graham’s harem and terrible treatment of the girls who cared for him was necessary. But now…

I knew exactly what to say to get the Lord’s on Luke’s side.

Feeling excited, I started walking towards the first group, only to be stopped by a gentle tug on my hand.

“Luke?”

At my questioning glance, he bowed with a bright smile. “May I have this dance?”

“Sure.” Fortunately the dances in this world were fairly simple, not unlike a waltz back in my old life. Finally that ballroom class I took comes in handy! As we danced, we settled into an easy rhythm, and I cast a worried look around the room. 

“Shouldn’t we be… you know…”

Luke chuckled. “Scheming?”

“Yes!”

He shook his head. “It’s only the first party. They’ll use this one to feel us out, see what cards we’re holding. If we’re too eager, they’ll be less likely to side with us in the end.”

“… If I told you, I knew exactly what each of the Lords wanted in exchange for their key, would you believe me?” I felt nervous. Graham believed that Chloe and I had psychic or prophetic powers, which was easier to explain then the concept of living in the world of a fantasy book series, but I had never used the knowledge in front of Luke openly before.

Luke’s gaze was serious as he continued to lead me through the dance. “I believe you.”

“Aren’t you going to ask how I know?” A girl who had been trapped as a slave in the Ninth Lord’s household, and then spent years in the forest hunting. How could I explain my intricate knowledge of the Ten Lord’s motivations?

I could just tell him the truth.

Even as I considered that tempting, terrifying option, he shook his head slowly. 

“I don’t need to know.” Seeing my confusion, he added. “You’re allowed to have secrets.”

“But…”

“So relax during the first party, and we’ll figure out recruiting the Lords in tomorrow night’s event.

The song ended, and Luke stepped away with a small bow. I curtsied in return, but as I straightened up, someone had stepped between us with a wide smile.

“I claim the next dance.”

Graham.

________________________________

Luke shook his head, reaching out to pull him away. “Don’t think about it.”

“Careful, brother,” Evading his grasp, Graham stepped closer to me, grabbing my arm. “If you make a scene here over a woman, it will be hard to gather support from the Lords.”

Luke rolled his eyes at the warning. “Like I care about that. Now let go…”

“It’s fine.” At my words, both men turned towards me, confused. I smiled at Luke, trying to reassure him. “It’s just a dance.”

“Are you sure?” Luke’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at his brother’s hand which was holding on to me.

“Wait for me.” Pulling my arm from Graham’s grasp, I positioned myself across from him, a much more formal distance than what I had danced with Luke. “Your Highness?”

Graham frowned, but took my hands and began to lead. “Why are you treating me so coldly?”

“… Are you an idiot?” I stared at him as we danced. “You do remember that you tried to drug me last time we met?”

“Only because I love you so much.” His gaze was intense, with more than a little obsession brewing within. It was uncomfortable to face. “And I didn’t succeed, anyways. You drugged me in the end, so actually you owe me.”

I stepped on his foot. Hard. “I owe you nothing. So let’s pretend we don’t know each other.”

“Don’t fight the inevitable, Darling.” His smile widened. “We’re destined to be together.”

Is this the confidence of the main hero of a story? I remembered that in the book he had innumerable women falling in love with him. Perhaps it had messed with his head? Realizing it would be impossible to convince him through logic, I stayed silent, hoping for the dance to end. Unfortunately, Graham kept talking, and was difficult to ignore.

“After the third party, I’ll have the token back, we can announce our engagement then.”

“Don’t be delusional.” I stepped on his foot again, smiling as he winced with pain. “We’re not even friends, much less in a relationship.”

“You’re mine.”

“I’m no one’s. And you have at least eight women who would love to marry you.”

His hands tightened on my own, the grip painful. “I don’t want them.”

“And I don’t want you.” I shrugged. “That’s life.”

“Do you want my brother?” He tried to pull me closer, but I stopped on his foot hard enough to stop the motion.

Yes. “It’s not any of your business who I want.”

“Fine.” He snarled. “I’ll become King, and then you’ll have to listen.”

The song ended, and I gave a sigh of relief. Graham kept holding onto my hands, despite my less than subtle attempts to pull them free. Just as I was considering a more drastic escape strategy, which would involve kneeing him in the testicles, a voice interrupted our silent struggle.

“Brother, how good to see again! How about we trade partners for the next dance?”

I looked over to see an unfamiliar smiling face. He was obviously younger, at most seventeen or eighteen years old, his golden hair and green eyes similar to Graham. But his face was more angular, giving him a sharp, severe look, and his eyes seemed to roam around the room, stopping seemingly at random as he assessed everything before him. I felt his gaze crawl over me, and shuddered with disgust at the delighted light in his eyes.

There’s something wrong with this man.

“Fetter, what are you…?” Graham started to question him, but trailed off in shock as he saw the man’s partner. A very familiar woman.

“Hello, Your Highness.” Chloe, dressed in a long, purple gown, smiled sweetly at him.

“Chloe, you joined Fetter’s side?” I was shocked. As far as I knew, she had disliked that character in Deadly Crown, obsessed over Graham instead. 

At my question she shot be a glare, before recovering her expression. “I happened to get lost in the castle, and Prince Fetter was kind enough to offer to escort me.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Graham. “Shall we dance, Prince Graham?”

I watched, shaking my head as Graham took her hand slowly, studying her dress with a cold expression

He might be an obsessed, egotistical prick, but he’s not an idiot. Graham had been involved in intrigue since he was a small child. His mother was a scheming force to be reckoned with. Did Chloe really think he would trust her once she had shown support for Fetter?

 “Let’s dance.” As i thought it over, Fetter took advantage of my distraction, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the center of the room, ignoring Graham’s look of anger at his gesture.

________________________________

The music started up again and we began to dance.

“You don’t seem excited.”

“Why wouldn’t I be excited?” I answered in a flat tone. “I get to dance with all three princes today. I’m honored beyond all expression.”

Fetter smiled, the expression making my skin crawl. “Between dancing with the princes in a beautiful ball gown and drinking poison…?”

I thought it over. “I guess it depends on the poison. There are a few that might rank lower than this.”

“I see it.” He laughed. “I wondered why they were so desperate. But I see it now.” He leaned closer. “It’s your eyes. We’ve grown up crooked thanks to that worthless old man on the throne, never knowing what it would be like to have someone treat us as people instead of a tool to be used. Your eyes are refreshingly free of greed and desire. It’s almost as if you have no expectations from this world.”

I followed his lead silently. He was right. I didn’t have any expectations. This world was nothing but a nightmare for me, with the exception of Blade and Luke.  I honestly wasn’t sure how I had gotten here, and if or when I would return. “Your point?” After a long silence, I asked coldly.

“My brothers covet that in you. Want to preserve it, or at least steal it away and hoard it for their own.” 

I lifted an eyebrow. “And what do you want?”

“Me?” His smile grew vicious. “I want to destroy it. Break you into a thousand pieces, and watch them cry as they try to put you back together, only to break you again.”

My blood ran cold. “You’re insane.”

“We all are crazy, darling. Each and every one of us in the Royal family.  Our father wanted it that way.” He shrugged as he danced. “Even your precious Lucien hides his own madness deep down so as not to scare you off. I’m just the most honest about it.”

Stepping away, I ignored the fact that the dance hadn’t ended, I ignored the political implications and the gossip that would be spoke about an unknown woman rudely interrupting her dance with a prince. My mind, my body, my entire being was overwhelmingly consumed by a single need.

To get away from him.

I felt it strongly. A sense of danger. A certainty of death. It hung over Fetter like a cloud, and the longer I stood next to him the more certain I was that I would not escape. I walked quickly, not noticing the mix of concerned and angry stares, until a familiar hand reached out and grabbed my own, startling me.

“Are you okay?” Luke’s face was pale as he studied my own, he looked over at Fetter and I saw hatred flare up deep within his gaze.

We all are crazy.

I shook my head silently.

“We’ll leave early.” Pulling me along, I was surprised, barely able to keep up with his pace.

“But the test...”

“It doesn’t matter.” He didn’t hesitate as he walked away. “None of it does.”

As we moved along, I heard Luke add under his breath. “As long as you’re okay.”

Feeling warm, I squeezed his hand in return, following him back to his rooms. 

________________________________

We sat down, in the dark and silent rooms, facing each other. The rooms were cold with the evening chill, the only light from the moonlight streaming in from the window. But it was enough light to see Luke’s face.

He watched me, his expression concerned, his eyes studying every inch of my features as if to etch them into his memory. There was a hint of panic in his gaze, one hand clutched tightly at his chest as he watched me, as if he was worried that I would disappear the second he looked away.

“Should we run away?” He asked quietly, his voice serious.

“Would they let us?”

“…” He leaned his head forward, laughing bitterly. “This late in the game? They’d be more likely to have us hunt down for fear it was part of a scheme.”

“Then why would you ask?”

Luke stared at me in silence for a few moments, the pain and panic becoming more clear with each passing second. “I don’t want to lose you. I won’t let them even have the chance.” 

Even your precious Lucien hides his own madness deep down so as not to scare you off.

I couldn’t escape the feeling that something terrible was about to happen. Remembering Graham’s obsessed words, Fetter’s undisguised violence… I shuddered, and reached out to hold his hand. 

He was shaking. I held his hand between both of mine, feeling him slowly calm down.

I had run away tonight. I was still afraid of dying. Of being involved in the plot too much. But I wasn’t going to run away again. 

I took a deep breath, letting it out in a long, tired sigh. “We need to talk, Luke.”

He blinked. “About what?”

“About how I got here, why I know so much, and why I refuse to have a name… it will sound crazy. You may not believe me.” I swallowed uncomfortably. “But I think it’s the key to surviving all this madness. Winning the crown if that’s what you want. But... If…after… you want me to leave, I’ll understand.”

“...”

After a brief silence Luke smiled, the expression startling clear despite the fear I could still see in his eyes. “Nothing could be crazy enough for me to want that.”

I didn’t smile back. “Then I’ll tell you about a story… called ‘Deadly Crown.’”

[heathsbitch]

Treat You Better ➳ PEAKY BLINDERS

x. THE PUB FIGHT

          Before Ivy knew it, she was back at her desk working the books. That day was different, though. That day was Michael's first day at work and his first day as Ivy's boss. He was annoying already but if you gave him power, he was an utter nightmare. Alfie had a phrase that he told Ivy, it seemed rather relevant at present, "It's hard to put a leash on a dog once you've put a crown on its head." That morning, he kept sauntering into the girl's office, a smirk spread across his face, slamming a huge pile of papers on her desk and strutting out without another word. Ivy was still mad at him from the horse auction and partly what happened the night of his birthday; he needed to mind his own business sometimes. Michael came into her office, again, this time to pick up the papers he had handed her earlier. "Have you finished them, yet?" Ivy pushed them towards him. "I'm not your slave." She told him. "No, but I'm your boss which means that you have to do anything that I tell you to do." She stood up and slammed her hands onto her desk. "You can't bully me into doing anything, Michael." She tried to put on a strong front, she couldn't let him know she enjoyed his teasing. He walked over to the girl, coming to a halt behind her. He held a dominant air round him, one similar to Tom's. "Actually, I can," He ran his hand down her arm. She faced the door, not wanting to make eye contact with him in fear that she'd cave. He pulled her hair away from her neck and whispered in her ear "I am your boss after all." He pushed the girl into the desk by his hips. Ivy's breath was heavy and her heart pounded against her chest. His crotch was pressed into her bottom. She bit back a moan.

"Lost for words, princess?" He continued to whisper in the girl's ear, teasing her. He started to grind against her. "Michael." Ivy whimpered under her breath. "Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"Michael." She repeated, louder the second time. "Ah, that's not my name. I would like you to call me 'Boss' from now on." His hands met her waist, pushing Ivy further into her desk. Anybody could walk in at any time yet he still continued. "In your dreams." She whispered, deciding she'd tease him back. One of his hands met the girl's throat, applying light pressure. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing, what?" He teased. "Nothing, boss." She whimpered. "Good girl," He praised. "I didn't want to apologise to you but I don't like seeing you hurt, so I'm gonna do this anyway. I'm sorry for whatever I said a couple of days ago," His lips danced along Ivy's neck, his breath was hot against her skin. They never met, though. "I was just curious. Now, what do you say?"

"Fuck you." She breathed, she was still mad at him after all. The grip on her neck tightened, choking Ivy. "What. Do. You. Say?" He repeated. "Thank you for your apology." He pushed his crotch into her again and ground his hips against her ass, more whimpers threatened to leap from her throat.. "Thank you, boss." She repeated. "Good girl." He pulled away from her and walked over to the door. "I have some 'business' to attend to, but there's some more work for you when you want it. Just come and see me." And with that, he left. Ivy's hands were sweating and her knees were shaking. With caution, she took a seat in her chair again. She hated to admit it, but she loved the effect Michael had on her. 'What the fuck was that?' That boy did things to her and Ivy couldn't help herself but be attracted to him in some way. There was just something about him. Something annoying, but interesting; alluring; arousing.

Ivy had finished all of her work that was left for her and went to find Michael. Nerves racked the girl's body, she didn't know what he was going to say or do, he still intimidated her. As she got closer to Michael's office, she heard two people speaking. From the frosted glass, Ivy could see that Isaiah was at Michael's desk. Her hand went to knock on the door, she hesitated before doing so. "Come in!" Michael beckoned her into the room. "Kitten, do you have a drink on payday?" Ivy was taken aback by Isaiah's sudden question. "Uh, yeah. Sometimes."

"See. Man, it's on fire out there. Women from the BSA offices," Ivy rolled her eyes at Isaiah's mention of women, he truly was obsessed. "Honest. They go out on their own without men these days. In twos and threes now. Mickey, they go out in twos and threes and buy their own drinks,"

Michael never looked up from his work. "The Marquis. That's where the BSA secretaries go. Ivy knows it. Look, they won't serve a black man without a Shelby or even a Solomons by his side." The girl walked over to Isaiah and placed her hand on his shoulder. "So, you're using us." Michael said bluntly. "I'll go with you, Isaiah." He looked up at her and gave the girl a smile. "Come with us, Mickey." Michael lent back in his chair and gave the pair a smirk. "Alright." Isaiah tapped Ivy's leg and stood up from his chair. "Do you have any other clothes, Ivy?" Michael asked the girl, raising his eyebrows. "Yeah, actually. I still have my dress from The Garrison re-opening." She dropped her work on Michael's desk and left the offices then headed to Tommy's house so she could get dressed.

The bar was packed to the brim with people. Ivy was sandwiched in between the boys, they were 'protecting' her, they said. Isaiah eyed up any girl that walked past them. "I told you. I fucking told you. This city is going mad. Girls are out on their own now." Ivy smacked his arm to scold him. Isaiah pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and held it out to Michael. "I know you don't like them, kitten. So here you go, Michael." They walked up to the bar and Michael ordered the drinks. "Three pints of dark mild, please." He threw some coins on the bar. "Fuck that. We're Peaky boys. And girls," He looked down at the Solomons and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Three whiskeys." Michael stared at Isaiah's hand on her waist and shook his head at the girl, Isaiah was still staring at the bar man so he didn't see. He then looked at the cigarette that was in his hand, he slipped it into his mouth and lit it. Taking a drag, he pulled it back out and coughed. "You get used to it. Then you can't stop." Ivy turned around to survey the bar. There were mainly men in there with a few girls dotted around. A tall man with the top few buttons of his shirt undone walked up to the trio and whistled to get their attention. "I don't drink with blacks." He told them. "Here we bloody go." Ivy muttered under her breath.

Racism was quite common in London and it was completely unnecessary. There was no point to it whatsoever. Ivy used to get so wound up when somebody would discriminate against Ezekiel, he was a Jew as well, meaning even more people attacked him just for his beliefs and the colour of his skin. There had been multiple occasions where Ivy couldn't contain herself and would start fights, just to protect Ezekiel. Isaiah was also Ivy's friend, and she was going to stand up for him, no matter the cost. "Paddy, they're okay." The barman warned the man. "Not with me they're not," The supposed 'Paddy' didn't move. Isaiah turned around to stub out his cigarette. "I don't drink in pubs with blacks."

"So leave." Michael's face was stoic but Ivy stood in front of the boys. She was a small girl, but knowing the posh background Michael was from, he probably couldn't handle himself in a fight, after all, he was hiding at the horse auction. He could intimidate people but probably couldn't fight. "Look, my dad's the preacher round here. He has connections. Ask anybody." The man scoffed, not caring about who Isaiah was. "I couldn't give fuck who he is."

"I'm telling you Paddy, leave it." The barman warned again. Ivy thought he knew who she and Michael were. Finn has a big mouth and has been spreading the word around that he was friends with a Solomons, much to her annoyance. "And I'm telling this darkie to get out of here." The guy cracked his knuckles and got closer to the three of them. Isaiah got in Paddy's face and shouted "You know something? Fuck off." Ivy put her hand on Isaiah's shoulder. "It's alright, Isaiah. Leave it," Michael reassured him as he stood close behind the girl, his hand on her waist.

"We'll go to my cousin's pub." He tried to calm Isaiah but he wasn't backing down. "I like it here." He hissed. "You fucking n****r." The man swung for Isaiah and his fist connected with his cheek. Ivy pushed Michael behind her and kicked Paddy.

Chaos erupted around the room and multiple men joined the fight. Isaiah was soon on his feet again and Michael was hitting somebody else. A small man came up to Ivy and tried to hit her. She ducked under his arm and went for a left hook to his ribs. It connected and he fell to his knees. The girl brought her heel up to his face and thrusted it forwards. The man collapsed to the floor, groaning in pain. Ivy turned around to see Isaiah with two men on him. She reached for one, grabbing him off of her friend. The man spun with his fist in the air. She ducked his blow, kicking him in his crotch. He doubled over in pain so the girl reached for his head and smacked it against the bar. Blood splattered onto the once-clean surface.

There was a tug on Ivy's hair as somebody else joined the fight. The man's hand connected with her ribs, winding her slightly. The girl's knees buckled underneath her but before the guy could hit her again, he flew backwards. Somebody stood over the girl, their hand extended towards her; Michael. She took his hand and stood up. Paddy grabbed at Michael, pushing him against the bar. Ivy went to help him but the man's other hand reached out to grab her throat. He choked the Solomons slightly and went to do the same to Michael.

"The white kids are Peaky Blinders! He's Polly Shelby's son and she's a Solomons," The bartender shouted and the man instantly let go of them. "She's fucking Alfie Solomons' daughter and he's Polly Shelby's son for God's sake. Are you fucking suicidal?" He held his hand out as if to hold them back. Isaiah ran over to Ivy and wrapped his arms around her. "Sir, Miss, I'm sorry. I didn't know." Ivy pulled out of Isaiah's grip to get closer to Paddy. "Get the fuck out!"

"I'm sorry." He apologised again. "Get out of the fucking pub!" Isaiah stepped in. "I really didn't know," Paddy ran out of the pub, disheveled from the fight. Michael came over to Ivy and clutched her waist. "Are you alright, princess?" She nodded and he took her back over to the bar with Isaiah. Cuts surrounded the boys faces, blood dripped out of some of them. Mickey lifted one hand up to wipe some blood that had dripped out of the cut on his lip. "We ordered some drinks. And we're going to drink them." He placed his hands on the bar and demanded the drinks they had previously ordered. The barman poured three whiskeys and pushed them towards the trio. They each picked up a glass each and clashed them together. They spun around to look at the mess they had just made in the bar and threw their heads back, downing the whiskey all in one.

The three of them decided that they should head back to The Garrison for another drink. "His face, man. Did you see his fucking face?" Michael laughed as they walked down to The Garrison. "You punch like a fucking kangaroo, Michael. Ivy, you're like a fucking ninja." Ivy laughed at their quarreling. "Alright, anyway. I need a fucking drink." Michael cracked his fingers then threw his arm over the girl's shoulder. Her heart rate quickened as he did it, he still scared the girl slightly, but she craved the fear he gave her. "The drinks are on you." Ivy told Isaiah. "It's on me? You two just got fucking paid!" He complained.

The Garrison was full of life, as always. It was a nicer atmosphere than The Marquis, posher. "Fucking hell. It's packed in here, isn't it?" They went over to the bar and the boys ordered them some drinks. "Two pints of dark mild and a gin, please." They took the drinks and walked over to the cove of The Garrison. "Here they are, look. Junior Peaky boys." Arthur announced, "And girl, Arthur." Ivy corrected the eldest Shelby. She took a seat next to Michael and placed her drink on the table. Arthur's gaze was directed to Mickey's hand which was bruised from the fight. Finn was staring at the marks beginning to form on Ivy's neck from when she was choked. She didn't know if the marks were from Michael or the man in the pub. "Ivy, your neck." Finn's voice was laced with concern. "I'm alright, Finn." She reassured, her fingers skimming the bruises. "What's happened to you. You've been scrapping?"

"Some idiots at The Marquis of Lorne. They tried to stop us from drinking but it's alright. We fought them off. Ivy beat the crap out of them." Michael told the boys. She nudged his arm, lightly scolding him. "Hey," He laughed and placed his spare hand on her bare knee. "Arthur, we had to stand our ground and we did."

"The Marquis, eh?" Arthur, John and Finn all stood up at the same time. John and Arthur pushed Finn back into his seat causing a light chuckle to come from Ivy. "Where's your dad?" Arthur asked Isaiah. "Preaching."

"Right." They left the room and John called out to Finn before he left, "Don't nick any of me chips, Finn!"

"Where are you going?" Michael questioned the Shelbys. "We won't be long." They closed the door and left Mickey confused with unanswered questions. "Where are they going?" Ivy repeated the question to Isaiah and Finn. "The Marquis of Lorne. Shame. It was a nice pub." What did that mean? Were they burning it down? Ivy decided to not ask anymore questions and to drink her gin. The presence of a cold hand was still felt on her knee. However, it was moving. Moving higher up her thigh. She shifted in her seat, nervous of what Michael was going to do next. But he did nothing. He kept his hand on the apex of her thigh as they talked with Finn for the rest of the night.

Everyone decided to call it a night once they had finished their drinks. Michael and Ivy headed back to the house but didn't speak for the entire journey there. He didn't even speak to the girl when they got into the house, he just went straight to the kitchen to get a drink. Polly came in soon after them and offered them some food. They agreed. Everyone sat at the table and Polly began to pray. Although her father was Jewish, Ivy was never religious. She sat next to Mickey and they just stared at each other whilst Pol prayed. "Amen." She finished her prayer and prompted the pair to follow. "Amen." They said in unison. Polly began to hand out the food and Ivy tucked in instantly. It had been a long day and she hadn't had a lot of time to eat. Michael lightly sipped his drink and Polly smiled with admiration at them. Suddenly, there was a banging at the door. Two policemen came storming in and grabbed Michael by both arms. "Mickey!" Ivy shouted, storming after him, Polly close behind her.

"Not again! Michael. You can't take my son away again!" She shouted as she ran after her son. They dragged him down the path and Ivy chased after Pol. "Come back here!"

"Mickey!" She screamed. A policeman came up to Ivy and grabbed her by the arms as well. He wasn't arresting the girl, he was just stopping her from going after Michael. Polly continued to shout and scream at the officers and her son. Michael was silent and complied the entire time.

Polly fought with the Police officers, kneeing one in the balls. Ivy's vision went blurry, everything happened too fast. Polly was being pushed up against a car by a creepy-looking officer with grey hair. The void began to consume the Solomons. The last thing she saw was Michael's face, twisted with anger through the window. Darkness consumed her once again.

xi. IMPURITY* 

MASTERLIST

[admiralty-xfd]

cross to bear

This story first appeared in Volume 2 of the MSR Fanzine. The ending has been slightly edited.

It first meets Dana when she’s fifteen.

Braces, freckles, awkward teenage-ness. It’s comfortable against her chest, nestled against her heart, hearing it beating. Slow and steady while she sleeps, then faster when the boy with sandy hair in homeroom touches her hand as he passes back a pencil.

It’s just a small piece of gold but it stays put, constant, like her faith.

At first her faith is in Him, that ubiquitous Him she’s known since childhood. He watches over her, He keeps her safe. He is there when no one else can be. And this particular faith ebbs and flows with age.

High school, college, medical school. Worn, unworn. Sometimes she is faithful, on nights when her heart is broken by some insufficient male and she misses her mother and it’s too late to call; those nights she wears the cross, holds the cool metal between her fingers and imagines Him, protecting her, guiding her.

And other times she is not so faithful, those days where her scientific rigor is put to the test, where she knows in her mind He simply cannot be but somehow He is there on her shoulder anyway, ever-present, judging her for leaving the cross in the small dish on her nightstand.

The length of its chain changes over time, as does its vantage point from her neck (although not by much). But the cross remains: part of her, steadfast and true.

†

It first meets her partner thirteen years later.

Only from across the room at first, but it always knows him by the way Dana’s heart beats faster, like it used to when she was younger. It happens so rarely anymore.

Her faith has never been so tested in all of her life: faith that first was confronted by hard evidence in various labs that shattered it to pieces. Now, with Mulder, the reverse seems to occur: her hard evidence is continually being shattered by miracles, by doubts. It’s difficult to know what to believe anymore.

Trust is fleeting, oblique. But not with him. From the very beginning she has faith in him. And it is true faith, genuine faith, because she cannot explain or quantify it: it just is.

Perhaps it’s simply her faith transitioning naturally from Him to him, but soon she wears the cross all the time again. And just as it settles back into its comfortable place at the hollow of her throat it is ripped away from her neck, discarded onto the itchy fabric floor of a stranger’s trunk.

And she is gone.

†

Her partner’s hand is the next thing it feels. Closing around it, larger, rougher than hers.

“Scully!?”

He calls for her desperately in the chill of night, his hand clutching the cross as if it were a piece of her; his only piece of her.

He knows so little about her yet that he places the cross into the shaking hand of her mother, a piece of Scully he is not familiar with. He feels strongly the cross belongs with her family.

But Margaret Scully knows that her daughter’s faith doesn’t come from the cross; it comes from Fox Mulder. And it doesn’t belong with her.

It belongs with him.

†

Putting the necklace on is strange for him. His family was never religious so neither was he. Funny how that happens.

But he worries if he doesn’t wear it, he will lose it. He’s already lost her; he can’t bear the thought.

It’s been difficult going into the office every day. Even before her abduction it was difficult; knowing she wouldn’t be waiting with a stack of research and those reliable indulgent eyes he’d become so accustomed to. But now, it’s worse. Everything just hurts all the time. He feels solely responsible, the only person who might have prevented this and he couldn’t.

Just like Samantha. Once again, he couldn’t save her.

The responsibility of finding his partner consumes his every thought. He doesn’t realize the weight of this immediately but day after day, the cross hangs heavier around his neck, against his chest, under his shirt; a constant reminder of her absence. His heart beats but something is different; empty. He is not himself.

Head down, eyes forward, he continues the work, because it’s the only thing he can do for her.

†

Malibu Canyon. Santa Ana winds. Blazing fires that will grow out of control, much like his own judgment. A choice that becomes a mistake.

“All I know is normal is not what I feel.”

He isn’t normal, not really. It’s clear he is in a dark place, an unfamiliar place. Just like Scully.

Just like her cross, he thinks, touching it.

This stranger is dark and mysterious. He’s drawn to her, because he is Fox Mulder, and he gravitates toward darkness more often than he’d like to admit. But more likely, he feels deserving of the dark right now.

“You’ve lost someone. Not a lover, a friend.”

The stranger isn’t wrong. His devotion extends to their partnership, it's purely professional.

Or is it?

He’s barely learned to know Scully, and to uncover the precise depth of his own feelings for her. It’s a band of elasticity, constantly pushing forward and back, one feeling one day, an entirely new one the next. He doesn’t know what he’s allowed to feel for her, what he should allow himself to feel.

Perhaps that’s why he lets the stranger in tonight: to feel something, anything; to take a brief moment of pleasure within this hellscape of pain. Nearly two years into his partnership with Scully and he’s only just realizing he’s subconsciously avoided sex with anyone else.

What does this mean?

Maybe he wants to save Kristen because he wants to save Scully. Like he wanted to save Samantha.

So many different feelings are bouncing around his mind, and faced with the attractive and eager stranger he lands on sex as the answer. Fucking Kristen is not an acceptable substitute for saving Scully, not at all, but it’s what she seems to want.

And what he wants is to feel something.

The cross dangles between his sweaty chest and the stranger, making it impossible to forget his partner even for a moment. And he hates himself for doing this; for failing Scully, for the time he’s spending not searching for her, and fucking some random stranger instead.

What does this mean?

Afterwards he extracts himself from her grasp, collecting his clothes from the couch and resuming his position in her living room. The silent sentinel.

The silent, useless sentinel.

†

The cross goes back to its rightful owner. Mulder is tight-lipped, almost bashful as he places it into her palm. Scully wonders about this.

She’d felt him when she was in the white place, wherever it was, whatever they’d done to her. She’d known somehow she would see him again. It was the only thing that kept her going.

Their work, the quest, the truth. These are the things she’s convinced herself she needed to come back for. But now, as he opens her door for his second visit, she sees the face of a true friend. Her truest friend.

He is who she’s come back for.

“I watched your football video,” she greets him.

“Really?”

“No.” She smiles.

“Funny.”

“Sorry,” she smirks. “When you’ve stared death in the face your priorities tend to change.”

He chuckles. “Mark my words, one night you’ll run out of things to watch and in an act of desperation...” he trails off.

“Stranger things have happened,” she admits. He sits, gingerly, in the chair beside her bed. “Thanks for coming, Mulder.”

“Of course,” he says. His hands rest on his thighs. He appears restless, uncertain.

She thinks about her necklace, how he kept it safe for her all these weeks. Mulder isn’t the tidiest of bachelors. Was it in his pocket? Strewn across his nightstand? Dangling from the edge of the framed picture of Samantha on his desk?

“How did you manage not to lose this?” she asks, holding the chain of her necklace taut. “I’m amazed it didn’t disappear forever into one of your piles of stuff.”

His hand goes to the back of his neck, awkwardly. “I, uh… I wore it, actually.”

Surprise floods her heart. “You?”

“Yeah, I never took it off.”

She smiles, touched. “Wow, Mulder.” She doesn’t say it, but she thinks it: I never left his mind.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” he breathes, as if the words have been bottled up inside his chest.

“Me neither.” She is reflective. “There was a moment when I felt like letting go.”

“But here you are.”

Her hand goes instinctively to the cross. “Here I am.”

“What made you change your mind?”

Does she tell him? “I felt you with me, Mulder. You believed I wasn’t ready to go, and I believed you.”

I had the strength of your beliefs.

He nods, smiles. There isn’t much else to say. She made it home, and so did the cross. Her faith in him has been rewarded.

†

A stormy night in Philadelphia. Raw, newly inked flesh. A choice that becomes a mistake.

The cross dangles between herself and a stranger. She hadn’t planned this, not at all, but it’s happening just the same.

“Sounds a little like your time has come around again.”

The stranger isn’t wrong. She’s earned attention, but isn’t getting it from Mulder. The stranger is here, though.

As unfamiliar hands grip her hips and unfamiliar eyes look into hers she instead sees Mulder, thinks of Mulder. Feels Mulder. And she hates herself for doing this; for failing him, for spending time not being honest with him, and fucking some random stranger instead.

This all began with a strong urge to prove that she is desirable, that she is wanted. That she is worthy of attention.

But she’s discovered she only wants that from Mulder.

What does this mean?

When it’s over she and the stranger lay awkwardly strewn across the floor of his sparse living room. He offers her the bed, because for now, he’s a gentleman. Her hand goes to the cross Mulder wore while he searched for her years ago.

He never leaves her mind.

†

They sit in the dim lamplight of a motel, him propped against the headboard, reading a book. She sits cross legged at the foot of the bed in his Yankees shirt, a pillow in her lap, just watching him read, which apparently serves as a legitimate activity these days.

“How many women have you been with, Mulder?”

He looks up, surprised. “Oh god, are we doing this?”

He can’t recall, he doesn’t really want to recall. But he isn’t afraid to. Being on the run from the law makes these heart to heart talks between them unavoidable. For the first time in nine years they are no longer afraid of the truth.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” she grins.

He removes his glasses and sets them on the bedside table, raising an eyebrow. “Ooh, really? How many women have you been with, Scully?”

She throws the pillow at him. “You know what I mean.”

The temptation to find out if she’d actually slept with Ed Jerse is too great so he agrees. “Okay. You go first,” he says.

“Hey! This is my game, I asked first,” she grins.

“Consider it my only condition.”

She sighs, leans over, stretching herself on her stomach across their bed. As she does this, his shirt rides up her back, revealing one of his favorite views. White cotton panties have never looked so exciting. She drags her finger along his leg. “I already know, Mulder.”

“Know what?”

“Which one you want to know about.”

“Am I that transparent?”

“The answer is yes,” she says quickly, and the words sting. He knew; deep down he thinks he’s always known. But it’s always bothered him; that maybe if he hadn’t behaved the way he did none of it would have happened. The one night stand, the subsequent attack, all of it.

“Can I ask... why?”

She catches his eye. “You can ask me whatever you want, Mulder. But that’s not really part of the game.”

He searches her eyes. He has to know. “Why?”

She moves to sit up on her knees. Her fingers move to her cross and it reminds him instantly of Kristen, and why he has no reason or excuse to be angry with her about Ed Jerse.

“I was lost,” she shrugs, looking at the cross. “I didn’t know at the time how I felt about you. I was acting out, like a kid, like I was stealing my mom’s cigarettes again.”

“So… nothing to do with me, then?”

Her eyes drift up to his face and she pins him with a look. “It had everything to do with you, Mulder. I just didn’t realize it until afterwards.”

He nods, wanting to understand. He thinks maybe he does; his own situation with Kristen was surprisingly similar. He mentally prepares for the impending divulgence he hadn’t anticipated tonight.

“It feels good to tell you, though,” she says, absently fingering the necklace. “Finally.”

“It feels good not to wonder anymore.”

“Now you go,” she says. He doesn’t press her for more tonight; this feels like enough.

“Are we counting the 1-900 women?”

“No. We’d be here all night,” she laughs. It’s not as if they have anywhere else to be, anything else to do, but he’s relieved nonetheless.

“Well, a few girls at Oxford.” Post Phoebe Green.

“I had no idea you were such a player, Mulder.”

“I wasn’t,” he admits. “Bit of a self-destructive streak, you know.”

“Ah.” She’d met Phoebe. She knows. “What about after you met me?” In her haste to avoid all mention of his past with Diana she’d inadvertently put him in a position to either be completely honest about Kristen or lie to her face. He will not do the latter, not anymore.

“There was one,” he confesses. “While you were… gone.”

She is silent. She had absolutely no idea. He suddenly feels like maybe he shouldn’t have told her at all, but then where would they be? What kind of honesty, what kind of trust could they claim?

He reaches out, touching her chin, making her look at him. “I was lost, too, Scully.”

She exhales softly. “Who was she?”

“Does it matter?” he asks. “She wasn’t you.”

She smiles, seemingly satisfied. Then her expression changes slightly. “But… you said you wore my cross while I was gone. Are you telling me…?” her eyebrow goes up.

Oh… yikes. “Um.” He can feel his face turn white and knows he could never tell a lie of the same color. “I’m sorry. Are you upset?”

“Why would I be upset?” she asks, perfectly seriously.

He shakes his head, opening his mouth, but he can’t form words. His guilt exists, but he’s unable to explain it properly. His heart had been hers already, he just hadn’t known it.

“It was so many years ago, Mulder,” she reassures him. “Before us. Before any of this. Besides...” she says with a smile, touching the tiny gold cross that settles into the hollow at her throat. “I was closer to your heart than she was.”

Her words touch him: his Scully, endlessly devoted to him. Finding the good in every shitty thing he’s ever done. Will he ever deserve it?

“You were, you know.”

She nods. She knows. “We were both stupid for so many years, Mulder,” she continues. “I’m not about to make a checklist and keep score.”

He chuckles. “Well that’s a relief.”

“Because you’d lose?” she grins.

“Because I’d lose.”

She laughs in response, gazing into his eyes. “I hope you know this isn’t a contest,” she says. “It never was.”

“I still think I’d lose, Scully.”

She runs her fingers through his hair. “I think we’ve both won,” she whispers, and she's right, as usual.

He smiles, but his eyes turn serious. “I really should have been more careful with it.” He takes the cross between his fingers, softly dipping his index finger into the hollow at her throat and she shivers. Her eyes darken and she brings her hands to the back of her neck, unclasping the necklace. She then leans forward, putting it around his own neck.

"You'll be careful with it," she says. "I have faith in you."

He raises an eyebrow in question and, in answer, she draws him in for a kiss, long and decadent. He closes his eyes, savoring every last bit, and her kiss absolves him; the cross no longer feels heavy around his neck.

They move together, his hands squeezing her flesh, her fingernails embedded in his back. He whispers her name into her ear, she moans his in return.

The cross dangles between two hearts now, two hearts that beat wildly only for each other.

[guiltywisdom]

I'm so happy to have discovered your blog today! If I may ask--I have a problem and I'm interested in your thoughts on it? I'm genderfluid and bi, and I recently told a fellow Catholic friend that I'm not in agreement with the Church on LGBTQ issues. She has become DETERMINED to "help" me change my mind, but she puts it as helping me "understand" church teaching better. Like, talking about this regularly and trying to figure out "why" I'm like this. I DON'T WANT! But how do I make it stop?

I’m happy you found me! I’m not Roman Catholic, rather Orthodox Catholic (and even then I’m a bit of a heretic) but I’ll try my best!

(also before I start, a friendly reminder that Orthodoxy is a collection of decentralized and independent churches, not one large church under one authority like Roman Catholics)

Quoting bible verses verbatim without interpretation can often be helpful. 

The first thing that comes to mind is “Judge not, lest ye be judged.” (Mathew 7:1) and “Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls.” (Romans 14:4). 

However my largest conviction (besides my own morals the Spirit blessed me with of course) comes from my belief that there is no true translation of the Bible yet and rather often it has been read wrong! As the Church Father’s have said, no man can boast that he has the one and only definitive reading of the Bible, more that he is one of many who endeavor our best to interpret the word of God. Also we must look at the historical context first though to even get close!

So, firstly any translation that uses the word “sodomites” is probably using it wrong! A “sodomite” is actually only a person who lived in “Sodom” however the more broader use refers to a person who does not treat guests well nor do they give to the poor. "'Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy.” (Ezekiel 16:49). 

Now you probably know the passage in Leviticus, its the one soooo many anti LGBTAQ+ people quote! 

“You shall not lie with a male as with a woman. It is an abomination.” (Leviticus 18:22)

Well here is some facts. If you look around the passages, in the Hebrew/Greek and the historical context you realize it’s referencing male concubines or even sacred prostitution/temple prostitution. I will admit that it might be on unsteady ground, but I think it should be looked into further and not just simply dismissed. 

Now Corinthians is not the same, it’s a lot more obvious.

“Or do you not know that wrongdoers will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor men who have sex with men.” (1 Corinthians 6:9)

This is how the passage is usually translated but in the Greek from which this was translated it actually is using the words malakoi and arsenkoitai which ACTUALLY translate better as “Adult men who have sex with younger men”

As Cristina Richie says “Paul [in I Corinthians] intended the term malakoi to refer to a catamite, or the boy in the Greek boy/man arrangement [pedophilia victim], and arsenkoitai to refer to a pederast, or the man in the same relationship [pedophile]. These terms are not synonymous (unlike ‘homosexual’) but complementary[…].”

Now after all this, why have I said all this? I’m trying to arm you with some information! That’s the best way. A lot of people will come at you with their own interpretations and you need to arm yourself against those who would try to do you harm both physically, mentally and spiritually! 

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.” (Ephesians 6:10-17)

Now that I’ve armed you with some passages I just want to say, if you want this to stop (other than using the armaments I have given you) just be honest with them. Try to make them understand that you don’t want to change. That this is who you are, it’s who God made you to be and this isn’t a thing to be “solved”. The Roman Catholic Church isn’t going to change it’s broader teachings any time soon, I do hear the Pope has spoken out about how he believes God only condemns the act of homosexuality and not the person themselves and don’t get me wrong, this is an important step! Maybe there might be a Vatican III where they decide homosexuality is fine! But this doesn’t change how they view it right now. It’s only a single step and a institution as old as Rome isn’t going to change any time soon in any real meaningful way. I am talking about Homosexuality in general since it’s the only issue directly addressed in the Bible, except maybe “cross dressing” but don’t get me started on that one (What the Hell does Deuteronomy 22:5 MEAN? “A woman must not wear men's clothing, nor a man wear women's clothing, for the LORD your God detests anyone who does this.” men wore “dresses” back then though???).

I think your friend has to learn to sympathize with you, to know that this kind of rhetoric is hurting you! That if they want to be your friend, if they want to be a friend at all, that this is NOT how! Jesus and God is first and foremost about love. 

I hope I didn’t overwhelm you with my block of text! 

Even if your friend doesn’t come to accept and love you for who you are, know that I DO, that other people like me do and of course, God does. 

“Love does no harm to a neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law.” (Romans 13:10)

[iihappydaysii]

Jamie is attracted to Lord John, which makes him very confused and angry, in this essay I will… okay, but I’m actually going to write this essay, so buckle up.

Last night, I read Jamie talking to the others at Castle Leoch in Outlander about his experiences as a teenager with the Duke of Sandringham. First of all, the duke is disgusting and needs a very swift kick to the balls—but even so, Jamie doesn’t take the duke so seriously. He finds an amount of humor in it, even if it’s in part just how he’s chosen to deal with it. Also, Jamie is surrounded by men that, though they’re far from “allies”, they’re not being particularly hateful about it. Of course, all of this discussion occurs before the rape and torture Jamie experiences from Black Jack Randall. This filled in a piece of what I’ve been trying to understand about Jamie’s relationship with Lord John.

Before Lord John, the Duke and Black Jack are Jamie’s experience with—I strongly hesitate to say gay men—but Jamie sees a connection between these three men based on their attractions to men, however disturbingly they present in the Duke and Black Jack. The Duke preys it seems to be exclusively or near exclusively on young men. Claire upon meeting him says that it’s all the boys under eighteen that seem wary of him, as they’ve been warned (I’m increasingly glad that as far as we know the Duke got nowhere near young Lord John). Of course, we have Black Jack who is an 18th century version of a serial rapist/serial killer. Jamie experiences a horrific trauma at his hands. Not only did he rape and hurt Jamie physically and very, very seriously, he also found ways to make Jamie find pleasure in it. And thinking of Jamie’s casual reaction to the Duke’s inappropriate advances, it makes me think Jamie’s particular reaction to this form of torture isn’t based on a simple baseline homophobia.

A) Jamie feels guilt for getting “pleasure” out of it because he’s married and faithful to Claire. Also, how could she ever love him if he did (his thoughts)? B) What does it say about him that he could find any kind of release/pleasure at the hands of such a horrific man and in the midst of an incredible amount of pain? C) Later, after the rape and torture, if he experiences any attraction towards a man—as it seems he might towards John, I’ll explain more later—how can he ever know if those feelings only exist because of Black Jack? And, even if he can parse that out, he can’t stomach the thought that he shares anything in common with the Duke or his rapist.

Enter Lord John Grey. Jamie likes him, despite the fact that he’s the Governor of the Ardsmuir Prison, despite the fact that he once tried to kill Jamie. At first, there’s mistrust and contempt there, but eventually, they grow to like and respect each other and enjoy time spent in each other’s company. Dining together, swapping stories and playing chess. Given Jamie’s strong reaction to John’s simple touch to his hand (a death threat, followed by basically years of contempt). If Black Jack had never happened, I think, at worst, he would’ve given an 18th century “Sorry, man. I don’t swing that way.” John would’ve apologized and that would’ve been that. Jamie knows John is no real threat to him. Jamie has little that can be leveraged against him, as Black Jack was able to leverage Claire against him. Our sweet David Berry gives us a false impression of the size difference between Jamie and Lord John. He’s near a foot taller and physically dwarfs John. Not to mention, in the show, Jamie says defiantly to John (before their friendship) that he can do his best to torture him but there’s nothing he can do that hasn’t already been done. He doesn’t seem particularly afraid.

I’ve mentioned this before, but its mentioned in the Lord John series that John is actually pretty good at figuring out who’s into dudes and who isn’t. He’d have to be to survive long, doing what he does, especially as he doesn’t go to the brothels. He ‘gets it wrong’ with Jamie and it’s likely a mix between wishful thinking/strong feelings and simple misinterpretation, but John is smart and he senses something. So he acts on it in as gentle a way as possible (not knowing anything of what happened to Jamie with Black Jack, he won’t realize Jamie has been raped at all until he guesses it in that painful scene in BOTB, which I’ll discuss in a moment. Firstly though I want to mention some things that come later that relate to suggestion that Jamie is attracted to John in some way, beyond John believing so enough that he takes such a large risk. For one, Claire will end up sensing something between John and Jamie, enough that it bothers her and she recognizes it for what it is, at least what it is for John. For two, we know there’s a connection between violence and sex for Jamie, we can see it in how he is ‘in bed’ with Claire. Anytime John’s attraction to Jamie gets brought up, he responds violently, despite John not being any actual threat to him—something he knows for certain by the time John is saying “We were both fucking you”—and yet, how does he react then? Violence. (I can’t fuck you, so I’ll hit you. Two sides of the same coin for Jamie.)

Later, he’ll even admit to Claire that when he was falling apart after William was born that it was John who was able to put him back together again, and that he’s angry about it. He’s angry that John can touch his heart in that way.

Anyway, let’s rewind a bit, so we can discuss why exactly Jamie would be so angry about any possible attraction to John based on how he sees gay men (and how he believes he’d have to see himself if he were to accept the way John is able to make him feel).

The scene where John comes to Jamie for help figuring out what to do about Percy’s impending trial is where we can see this issue most clearly laid out. First of all, Jamie has a VERY strong reaction to realizing Percy was John’s lover.

I can’t in honor see him hanged for a crime whose guilt I share—and from whose consequences I am escaped by chance alone.

This is all it takes for Jamie to realize that Percy is John’s lover. Though John doesn’t directly state that, Jamie senses it, is smart enough to figure it out—and does not react well. (Also, the word Jamie uses is ‘catamite’, which is a term from ancient Rome and Greece that means ‘a boy kept for homosexual practices—and John corrects him to lover).

They begin to argue it at this point, basically the concept of whether or not men can be lovers. Jamie, whose experience is limited to the Duke and Black Jack, knows intimately that what those men experienced was not love, but selfishness and power trip to varying degrees. He’s projected that on to all men who experience attraction to men—a burden he would have to hang around his own neck as well—if he were to feel a similar (as maybe he did when John touched his hand in Ardsmuir… in that moment, before he pulled away.)

Only men who lack the ability to possess a woman or cowards who fear them—must resort to such feeble indecencies to relieve their lusts.

It’s an attempt to goad John, to insult him. It doesn’t particularly work as Lord John doesn’t possess any great deal of shame around his being gay and knows that isn’t true. He’s not afraid of women and could most certainly possess one if he wanted to. John doesn’t take the bait as intended and deflects to talking about love. What do you think love is?

He needs to keep his love for Claire separate from anything he could or could not feel for John and Jamie goes on to speak of one of his other experiences with gay men, though John doesn’t know that this relates to an exact experience (this can also relate to Black Jack because of Fergus). But I think Jamie, at this point, is pretty certain that John is no Black Jack. His negative reaction to Jamie (in a sense) forcing John to whip him Ardsmuir was a good example to him that John doesn’t get pleasure out of that. But still, if John has this attraction to men in common with Black Jack and the Duke, he must have others, right? So, he turns to accusing John of ‘preying upon helpless boys’.

Lord John threatens to physically fight him for that comment, which is very fair. It’s a horrible and gross accusation that he absolutely does not deserve in any way.

Jamie’s reaction to this is interesting. Armed or no, ye canna master me.

Of course, this is when John says something really motherfucking dumb without realizing the implications because he doesn’t know Jamie’s history of trauma.

I tell you sir—were I to take you to my bed—I could make you scream and by God, I would do it.

This conversation goes all to hell because John thinks he’s arguing against homophobia and what he’s really arguing against are fundamental beliefs Jamie now holds to protect himself against his trauma and any feelings he may or may not have for John. (and it just must really suck to be in love with someone who thinks such terrible things of you, through not fault of your own).

(Also a quick aside about Grey wanking after this, like it doesn’t make a hell of a lot of a sense in reality. Especially as we know Grey will be very angry about this conversation for a long time after. However, in a literary sense it goes to reflect that idea of violence as sex or violence as a way to express sexual attraction. If Jamie’s release of the sexual tension of that scene was the punch, John’s was this.)

Of course, they’ll rebuild their friendship slowly, over the years at Helwater and in Scotland. Enough so that Jamie will gift John with one of his most precious things—his son William. This time will end with an offer of his body in exchange for John to care for William (though it is a test to make certain John’s not a creep and if he is Jamie plans to kill him). John, of course, turns Jamie down because as Jamie will later say to Claire, “he would not take counterfeit for true coin”. This is the moment where Jamie separates John from Black Jack and the Duke. And, at least for a moment, is able to separate himself from them too. Enough that he does something he does not have to do, that there’s no real reason for him to do, he kisses John.

Grey felt the big hands warm on the skin of his face, light and strong as the brush of an eagle’s feather, and then Jamie Fraser’s soft wide mouth touched his own. There was a fleeting impression of tenderness and strength held in check, the faint taste of ale and fresh-baked bread. Then it was gone, and Grey stood blinking in the brilliant sun.

[cobieeliseforsh]

I'm getting pretty annoyed with the amount of bullshit in the media right now. I just read an article about the "antisemitic" conspiracy theory Qanon. Calling Qanon antisemitic is like calling the KKK a group opposed to the career of Will Smith - technically true, but clearly a small subsection of a greater whole.

So, to remedy this...

COBIE'S FRUSTRATED GUIDE TO QANON FROM SOMEONE WHO LOVES CONSPIRACY THEORIES AND WISHES THIS ONE WOULD FUCK OFF BECAUSE IT IS BORING AS SHIT BUT NOT FIZZING WITH ENERGY, EVEN ON A MOLECULAR LEVEL, BECAUSE IT IS A DUMB AND LAZY REHASH FROM THE 80S OR EARLIER!

PART 1: DA FUCQ IS QANON?

Qanon is a grooming organisation for the Christian Far Right Death Cult that has held the Republican party in its sweaty hands since the ascent of Reagan in the 1980s. They believe in some bullshit I won't reprint here because I have no intention of spreading their ideology, but if you've heard of the Satanic panic, this is Satanic Panic 2: Now With Pizza!

Qanon is, by definition of their own supporters attacks on Muslim terrorism, a terrorist organisation. And, though it seems impossible, they're stupidier than ISIS ever were, because at least there was some twisted logic behind ISIS: poor young men fighting revolutionary wars against what they see as corrupt and immoral authorities and ideologies is nothing new. Qanon is literally the powerful declaring war on those without power out of fear that those without power (Satanists) live only to physically abuse their ugly, fat, prejudiced, stupid children. Despite the statistically most likely people to abuse them being them themselves, and there being plenty of evidence that many of these hypocrites have done that in the past (numerically many - one thing I believe Qanon followers on is that the majority are gullible Maud Flanders types, so statistically it won't be that many).

Donald Trump supports them over the "violent" Antifa (Antifa haven't killed anyone since 1993 (and that was a suicide), aren't actually an organisation, and are against facism, which Trump also claims to be against), despite Qanon followers carrying and firing weapons regularly, having shot up a pizza place in a terrorist act, refusing to wear masks, and other acts of violence designed to terrorise people.

PART 2 WHO DO THEY HATE?

Um... like, 98% of people.

Qanon is primarily an Apocalyptic Christian Far Right Death Cult. They believe in what they call SRA (Satanic Ritual Abuse) which happens at such a low frequency as to make it as serious a problem as being invaded by pookas. You might find anecdotal evidence here and there, but the majority of cases are hearsay spread by people who weren't there who were a part of or raised by people who were a part of the Satanic Panic. If you hear about it, it's likely bullshit. Just look at the West Memphis 3: accused of Satanic Ritual Abuse, they were sent to prison for wearing black clothes and being teenagers without any evidence. Now, whoever killed those boys is still loose, because Qanon, like all right-wing groups, is about being obeyed, not about justice.

So, with Satanic Ritual Abuse being fucking vapour, they can accuse ANYONE. And if there is no evidence, they cry COVER UP. There is no way, at all, to prove this mindset is wrong as it always self corrects, because being religious in origin, it is driven by BELIEF, not evidence.

So, whoever they believe is evil, is, as far as their reality tunnel goes.

Muslims? Evil child abusers. "But there is no evidence of that. In fact, the Muslim community is actually very protective of their children and other children. They're amongst the kindest people you can meet, even if their political leaders in their own countries are jerks." Well, says Qanon, that's because their community covers up the abuse. There wouldn't be any evidence. But my cousin went to school with a girl who was groomed by a Muslim. It's clear it is something all Muslims do. "But that's stupid. That's like saying that because Ted Bundy, a heterosexual white Republican, murdered loads of women, all heterosexual white Republicans want to murder women!" Now, says Qanon, you are just being silly. Besides, I believe Muslims are bad and Republicans aren't. You can't question my beliefs.

But we can, and we should.

Qanon followers use this vague structure to create complex webs that link up various conspiracy theories, but they aren't a complex web. They're just a list of petty grievances they have from living in their own personal echo chamber.

They hate women, they hate girls, they hate boys who don't conform to their expectations, they hate men who vote left-wing, they hate gay people, bi people, really anyone who isn't heterosexual, they definitely hate trans people (see: trans people want to use bathrooms to abuse children as merely an extension of the Satanic Ritual Abuse claims), they hate people with coloured hair, bright clothes, they hate Jewish people, they hate Muslims, they hate anyone from a fringe religion that doesn't look right, they hate foreigners, black and brown people... anyone they define as different. And to back this up, they claim to be "the majority" being dictated to be a "minority" - they aren't. They're a minority of gobby cunts, a Karen of Nazis (Karen being the best collective noun to describe these childish crybabies who were so desperate to remain in a state of childlike innocence they embraced both religion and then keep insisting their imaginary friend, Jesus, is following them everywhere, like a psychotic stalker ghost).

PART 3 WHERE DOES THEIR BULLSHIT COME FROM?

This is probably the most important part. Not what they believe, but where these ideas come from, and why they aren't new.

Qanon is a mixture of young-and-edgy YouTube/8chan influencer, white supremacist religious manipulation, pro-Capitalist Protestant religious "life is shit, embrace misery" ideology, pedophile hysteria, and "we hate the idea people have rights because we're power mad, but we're going to frame this as a backlash, normal people making their voices heard, a culture war, or whatever else we can rebrand PREJUDICE because even we don't want to admit we are bigots".

So, first of all, the angry white online teenagers: have always existed, will always exist. Their parents don't give a shit about them unless they cause trouble. So, they learn quickly that the best way to get attention is to cause trouble, which leads to kinship with other troubkemakers, forming an echo chamber of escalating troublemaking. But they're also angry, and often poor (in their eyes, or in actuality), so they're drawn to outrage, and like causing it. They're attracted to movements like this because they believe it's a chance to get some attention, someone to notice them.

And who notices them? White supremacists are always on the lookout for recruits. They feed their need for outrage and attention by misrepresenting everything. They take puff-piece news articles and shoddy journalism and further twist them into movements around positions that have no basis in reality. Vaccines? Designed to hurt you. "Uhhh, no," you say. "That's literally the opposite of what a vaccine does." I don't believe that, they say, and you can't question my beliefs. BLM? Terrorism. "No, they just want to not be shot." No they don't, they want to take over and put the Jews in power, and you can't question my beliefs! "You have no evidence!" COVER UP! they scream.

So it goes, so it goes.

Meanwhile, the Protestan work ethic of, "If you didn't suffer, you don't deserve it," goes on and on. They believe that shit things just happen, you can't stop them. Capitalism is founded on this very, very relugious principle: work should be pain for it to have value. This justifies promoting assholes, and making things difficult. But it also promotes the idea that you can't do anything to combat inequality, as that is natural, and you can't do anything to stop bad things happening, they always will, so why try? This lends Qanon a specific pattern: complain, do nothing, complain nothing is being done, still do nothing, repeat. It's wrong to intervene, you see. This allows them to say racism is bad, but God wants us to suffer so we deserve phony-heaven, a paradise they think is built on bricks of human misery... does that sound glorious to you? And if you have something, clearly you did suffer to get it, and so you are worthy, which is why Trump is a hero to them and they believe his every utterance of verbal diarrhea about him being persecuted (to be fair, he is, but he deserves it because he's lazy and incompetent).

Pedophile hysteria is also generally religiously motivated. Children should be protected, but they are not innocent angels. I've worked with children. Some are nice, some are sneaky, some are violent bullies, and so on. The one thing that unites all children is that they are ignorant. That's why we send them to school. And there are people who want to prey on children. The world we usually use to describe those who most often hurt, abuse and damage children is, "family". Promoting the idea of gangs of rampaging pedophiles snatching children into vans and harming them in shadowy rooms, or murdering them in some Satanic ritual, is laughable compared to the epidemic of children being harmed by those parents terrified the pedophiles are out there. Such fear motivates them to do untold harm to children, restricting their freedoms and their growth, teaching them that all sex is bad so they never enjoy it, forcing them to be things they aren't, and turning a blind eye to obvious abuse because those doing it are not the model of abuse being put out by the press and Internet communities. In that last way, Qanon is a driver of child abuse: it actively encourages Apocalyptic Christian Far Right Death Cult members to nit even ask the obvious question: if Epstein was abusing kids, and Epstein was hanging out with Trump, was Trump maybe involved in some way?

And then there is just the prejudiced crowd, most notably the American-exceptionalism delusional whack jobs. Let me be clear, all forms of exceptionalism are prejudiced, as they suggest that those who are exceptional are better and mire deserving than others, and the real world does not contain such hierarchies, just stuff that happens until it stops happening. A monkey may be the alpha, but one day they won't be. It's not a hierarchy, it's just a thing that happens that we project a power structure onto. Who knows what monkey culture is like? Maybe to them deference is more honourable and respected than being in charge. No-one has asked monkeys for their views of ideology or power structures.

This often manifests itself in ideas of, "We shouldn't be ashamed!" and that movements they don't like are, "Against us!" Well, if you're setting out to hurt people because you believe you are better than them, you should be ashamed. That queer Pakistani girl you keep out of college could have been the one to cure cancer! She might have had the unique perspective to make that breakthrough. And, yes, some of us are against Qanon, because Qanon is hurting people. That is the point of the movement: to harm its enemies, by denial if freedom all the way up to outright murder. It isn't a Pride parade or BLM demanding equality and an end to deaths, its a hate movement driven by a desire to punch down, and ultimately perpetuate the very system that isn't even working for those who follow its own ideology.

It's based on fear of the new, even if that new place is better than the old one, change can be scary. They think equality will hurt them, the way collective bargaining would hurt them. But we don't live in a system where resources are so finite you have to do without, we live in a system where resources are finite but we throw away an excess because capitalism couldn't make rich people richer by giving it to those who need it, so they dispose of it and introduce scarcity to drive up the cost. Working together would force them to stop doing that, which is why movements like this exist: to perpetuate a form of exceptionalism more like a cult, where only the leaders reap the rewards.

PART 4 WHAT IS THE END GOAL OF QANON?

It doesn't have one.

Qanon is a right-wing movement. Right-wing movements are about winning arguments now, and then feeling smug, even when the damage is undone later. It's about a sense of self-satisfaction, and not anything else.

Plus, Qanon has so many stake-holders who hate each other that the movement will eventually descend into cannibalism as all these things do.

Finally, being primarily religious in its design, it won't take long for many religious types to realise Q is kind if a God-like figure, a false idol, and when that happens, plenty if their leaders will become worried that their followers are so focused on Q they might "stray from the path" of donating all their money to their church.

Unless it turns out that Q is Q from Star Trek, in which case their end goal is to test Jean-Luc Picard.

PART 5 SHOULD WE FEAR QANON?

Nah. It's a group of fringe lunatics whose time in the spotlight will be fleeting. As I've already said, even their ideas aren't original - this is the Apocalyptic Christian Far Right Death Cult version of Fortnite stealing dances: everyone goes crazy about it for a bit, but it's so insubstantial in its original form, nevermind the cover band version, that almost all people with a lick of common sense will dismiss it. Plus, it doesn't serve any agenda: Trump could easily find himself on the receiving end of it, that one Qanon politician just elected will likely be marginalised the moment Trump vanishes, and having a single person won't sway any votes in such divisive times, which means they'll be proclaimed ineffectual soon enough, and with Epstein it is already showing that it isn't something which helps the powerful, meaning a lot of people who do have secrets will want it gone sooner rather than later lest it bite their own hands. Plus, they are actually harming people - and say what you like about the Republicans, they don't tend to respond well to the PR disaster of groups they side with directly attacking or killing people unless they are their own ACAB stormtroopers.

Plus, it's a bunch of saddos on the Internet. Chances are if you see someone screaming about Qanon and waving around a gun, they'd have done the same and screamed about lizards had it never got started.

PART 6 WHAT SHOULD I DO?

Stop giving them attention. This is one of the most BORING conspiracy theories ever created. Seriously, since 9/11, conspiracy theories have really gone downhill. They used to be about aliens and subterranean kingdoms, and now they're just attempts to misdirect pedophile hunters from the right-wing types who have covered up child abuse, and tie it to phony "think of the children" and "Satan is out to get us" religious hysteria.

With covid-19, the press is having a very slow news cycle, so they're desperately grabbing at anything that can drive search engine algorithm clicks to their sites, so they're covering Qanon because they've seen it trending. I doubt most people involved with it really believe in it, but it is so directionless that it wouldn't matter if they did. Qanon Con would descend into bloodshed fairly quickly because everyone would be angry and arguing that the tater tots are secret SRA code for cannibalising children or that it reveals that Hilary Clinton buries children beneath fields of potatoes. It's stupid, the people involved with it are stupid, and the bigger question is what they believe that led them to this:

Disenfranchisement. Having to respect the beliefs of others. Prejudice. Anger.

Well, boo-fucking-hoo. If these shitbags actually want to stop harm to children, maybe stop supporting gun rights so kids aren't being gunned down in schools, and black kids don't keep getting gunned down everywhere. Until you do that, Qanon, you're the child abusers.

[mothmansrevolt]

LU Girl Scout AU (and subsequent PTA AU)

LU au where they have to pretend to be girl scouts because Time has to prove a point to the pta board and to the Karen Squad Its basically a bunch of highschoolers and singular college student pretending to be girl scouts because of both friendship and Time just shoved some sashes in their hands and said Y'all are all now girlscouts and offered to get them Chipotle as payment.

Twilight is in college(online). Warriors in a senior. Legend and Sky are juniors. Hyrule and Wild are sophmores. Four and wind are freshmen. Four is homeschooled by his grandfather though.   All are in a specila branch called hylia scouts (creative i know). This means they get set uniforms and competitions with other troops over cookie selling boundaries since hylia scout troops are usually very close to eachother. There are two troops in their area including them. Troop 4296 (the Links) and 6669 (the Karen Squad) They are troop 4296 because Time wouldnt let them have either 420 or 6969

Time--a pta mom--rivals with the Karens--tired as all hell but will not hesitate to prank the karens--troop leader and/or chaperone depending on the situation--He has a million bumper stickers supporting his "girls"--honestly he's just here for the cookies--someone get this man a coffee--has two sons according to the law, but has eight in spirit--you mess with his children he will not hesitate to murder you--all his sons are arsonists and he doesn't understand why--will call the links his "daughters". half the town can't tell what children he actually has--loves coupons and discounts "Malon said I'm not allowed to start fights at the pta meetings but I will not hesitate drag her here if you insult my beautiful brats again." Twilight­--Time's eldest son--only in this because he doesn't want his friends to get hurt and he loves his parents--a good boy--loves animals and will not hesitate to educate you on them--he wears overalls and if forced will wear a skirt over the overalls--he cant sell cookies for shit because nobody believes that he is a girlscout--sometimes has to duck down behind Four if certain people are around because they'll get suspicious--it does not work--He pretends to be everyone's big brother and they love him for it--perpetually confused by Wolfie "I have command over an army of teenagers and goats, nothing can stop me but gas money and my gpa." Wild--Time's second son--can pass as a girl pretty well--he destroys stuff during craft time--hot glues patches to sash--He has every one of the cooking patches and than some--Often seen with the camera photographing everything--Will help create new badges--give this boy a scavenger hunt and he will find you just about anything--has a tendency to ride on wild animals--isn't legally allowed to drive a car nor own a license. nobody knows why--second most convincing for this whole thing "This is just a glorified gang and honestly I am living for it." Four--from the neighboring farm but Twilight and Malon babysits him sometimes. he is a staple--the karens keeps trying to steal him because he is 'innocent' and 'a little lady'--this leads to ridiculous hijinks--he is small, quiet, not very mentally sound but he tries his best and is brave as all hell--owns the most badges--will rock the skirt always--fashionista or fashion disaster, there is no in-between--he's the most committed besides legend and warriors but is the most convincing--best cookie seller--Often seen handling sharp tools and knives for some reason, who gave this child a weapon?!--tends to befriend bad people--the only one with the fire safety badge even though, he to, is an arsonist--wears a vest because the sash is too big, Malon made it for him--has a bird named Ezlo who sits on his head "Sorry Miss Karen but I've been bribed with my first born child so kindly fuck off." Legend--salty and sassy--will always rock the skirt--also a fashionista and knows accessories--he's really only in this because of a running bet with warriors--he has a soft on the inside sometimes--he will get into cat fights--The other girlscouts from a rival troop HATE him because they will always lose arguments against him--knows the most about girl scouts, won't say how--Often seen blinged out with the jewelry he wins at the local chuck-se-cheese with his buddy Ravio "I have command over an entire troop of shortstacks and will not hesitate to order a strike against your fucking kneecaps. Do NOT question the authority of this skirt." Warriors--pretty boy--in a bet with Legend--also a fashionista--he is a big brother tho-- protection squad and trying his best--he is on student counsel and is a good leader--stand in when Time is busy--Often seen with a sports bag in one hand and a girl scout sash in the other--all the troops think he is a major lesbian because he keeps flirting with the other scouts--he gets more numbers as a girlscout, not that he could ever admit this "I'm a known lesbian among the girl scouts and honestly that is my crowning achievement." Sky--is here because his friends are here--He is the mom friend--second best at selling cookie because of his sweetness--He often tag teams with Four for selling cookies--is slightly confused but he's here to make sure nobody gets hurt--honestly just naps during meeting-- Often seen with blanket and a comforting hug--rival troops actually have scouts seeking out to befriend him--always forgets his skirt and is often seen borrowing his girlfriend Zelda's "Guys, please stop fighting you are all beautiful young women. Karen, you shut the frick up." Hyrule--the camper and nature boy of the group--he loves and has earned every patch for exploration and camping--tends to get lost--needs navigation patch--its been revoked from him twice--Humble and nice--often sleeps over at other peoples houses--nobody knows where he lives--it confuses the shit out of them--He is buddies with Four because Four knows the backwoods and roads the best--Often not seen due to being lost "Legend duck taped a gps to me arm and I think its lost to :(" Wind--baby boy--not as innocent as the others think--he absolutely loves being a girlscout--will play pranks on the other troops during jamborees and campouts--lives by the sea, slightly far away form everyone else--He helps with the nautical patches--hangs with the resident young delinquents, Tetra's gang. she thinks this is hilarious--he owns the troop wagon that they all use--its named King of the Red Lions or just Dave depending on the hour--only here because Twilight babysits him and his sister--also wears a vest because he thinks its cooler--Often seen with a telescope and covered in sand--someone give this child a bath "My first love may be the sea, but my second is that damned burrito, hand me the fucking skirt!" Wolfie--troop mascot--a giant half wolf half god knows what--has his own vest and patches-- has a tendency to just show up--Nobody knows where he comes from nor where he goes--he is the town cryptid and it isn't uncommon to see him pulling the troop wagon with the boys in it--Four still rides on his back--it counts as the horse back riding patch--Twilight is perpetually confused by him and its become a running gag that Wolfie is his fursona--loves cookies, sadly the cookies do not love him--can vaguely say curse words "arf" Shadow and Dark(I'm not sorry)--in karen's troop 6669 (for fun? for rivalry? who knows. they don't)--brothers--edgy bastards who are in a band together--Shadow is best friends with Four, Dark thinks he's pretty rad--Often seen with Four and the other edgy teens--both sassy, both easily pissed but trying to be kind of nice--Shadow is the only one who has achieved this--no those are not their real names, its Link and Link like everyone else in this goddamned town--HI MY nAME IS ebONY DArknESS DEMENTIA RAveN WAY--Dark is the author of My Immortal--both suck at selling cookies--tag team with Four to try and help their sales--rivals of troop 4296, they despise each other--both wear vests because Shadow wanted to match Four and Dark decided he can trick out the vest "Our mother may be a bitch and a dumbass, but at least we aren't petty white boys." "Wait Dark we are petty white boys" "FUCK" Karen Ganondorf Smith, Kaaren Link Johnson, Carhaen Reese--bitches and pta moms--runs the pta--the karen squad--Reese's daughter named Betghyani who is very nice and likes troop 4296--Johnson is mother of Shadow and Dark--they are fucking nuts y'all--they represent the three evils of the pta: the enforcer, the healthy diet extreme, and the bitch against disabled children (quiet hands!!!)--despite popular belief, Four (Link Smith) is in no way related to Karen Smith (legally at least. Karen thinks they are and it doesn't end pretty sometimes)--they all hate Time with a burning passion because he is not afraid to call them out on their bullshit "I've brought up so many stances and rules into this pta and will not have some farming hooligan upstaging the careful work me and the other heads have created!" Malon--couldn't be on pta because she almost murdered a karen with kindness--sweet and kind but can still kick ass--helped make and fix uniforms--acts as chaperone when needed and finds this all completely hilarious--she makes snacks with Wild for the meetings--has adopted all of these children--actively enforces Wind and Four to eat more because whY ARE ALL YALL SO TINY--can lift a cow "Don't talk to me or my husband or my son or my son or my eight fake sons or my lovely eight fake daughters ever again."

[thecatinthepurplepants]

So.

I just found out that my dad voted for Tr*mp.

I dont really have words to express what I'm feeling at the moment. Shock, confusion, betrayal. Hurt mostly. This is a man that I've trusted my whole life. A man I came out as Pansexual to, along with my immediate family. A man who said he accepted me. And on some level he still does, I think. I hope.

He told me this morning, when he was talking about voter fraud, something about his ballot not getting processed right or something. He claims his vote was changed but who knows if it actually was. Who knows what I can believe from him anymore anyway. He's always been one to believe in conspiracies rather than the "mainstream" explenations anyways. I guess I just thought that he would never let conspiracies override his common sense and the reality of the situation. I was wrong.

He's angry because, in his words, he can vote for whoever he wants. Which is true, he can. But what he doesn't realize if that a vote says so much more about a person than they think. And it has told me that for all the years I've spent trusting and loving him, for all the friends that are a part of the LGBT+ community that I've brought home, all the POC friends I've welcomed into our house, for all my attempts to tell him that politics aren't just politics for us, he will still choose what he feels is best for him and his worldview and that alone. Its not just throwing out a vote and not thinking about it for us. We have to think in terms of survival and our basic rights being at stake with every vote we cast. I guess I never got through to him. Maybe I didn't try hard enough. I've never been the best at debating. I trip over my words and putting complex thoughts into speech is hard for me.

He thinks that Biden is a trojan horse for some kind of lizardman kabal takeover or something, something to do with aliens getting involved in human affairs which, I'll give him, is an interesting concept to think about I guess. But I assumed he had one foot on the ground. In reality. In facts. I assumed that even if he believed in some wild conspiracy that with the information laid out, the stakes on the table clear to see, and the real world implications in clear view that he would never vote based on the predictions of internet psychics and remote viewers who can easily be biased in their own beliefs or paid to "predict" a certain way.

But come to find out he voted for a man not only endorsed by white supremacists but one that encourages their support in him and their violent behavior towards minority groups and his political opponents. He voted for a man who is a habitual and admitted abuser of women and young girls. A man who is so blatantly racist its almost comical. A malignant narcissist who was handed everything by his father, believed he deserved it, and has left a trail of failed businesses in his wake all while claiming to be a businessman. He voted for a GOP platform that not only sought to overturn Roe vs. Wade but also the Supreme Court ruling for same sex marriage. His vote was cast based on conspiracy and propaganda that he consumes from Fox News. His vote was against my rights.

All the off-color remarks about people of different races. All the ignorance on certain things in the LGBT+ community, the disinterest in learning why being LGBT+ is so much more to us than just a label and the culture we have built. What struggles we face every day and our history that we have to sift through old love letters, obituaries, and autobiographies just to catch glimpses of. I just thought it was a product of his time, his upbringing and that maybe deep down it wasn't a reflection of how he actually thought.

He always tells us about "baggage" that the older generations leave behind for future generations to carry in the form of old antiquated biases. How he didn't want us, me and my brothers, to have to carry that too. I don't know if he ever realized that carrying his own still affected us even if he never placed it squarely on our shoulders.

There are many people in our family who I'm very sure would feel differently about him if they knew he had voted that way so I don't know who to talk to about this. I don't want to cause a rift in the family over politics but as I've stated before, politics are much more than background noise to me and many other people because they have to be. I don't want to hurt him or ruin his life over one vote but this... definitely changes things for me when it comes to our relationship. It hurts to think of keeping my own dad at arms length when I was so close to him before but if its what I have to do to keep myself from getting hurt like this again I'll do what I have to. I just never thought something like this could come from him. I thought he was safe.

I want to trust him again. I want to feel safe around him again. But this has been a punch to the gut and I dont know how to breathe around it.

I feel as though my trust in him was misplaced and that is a horrible thing to feel about someone you love.

Any advice on how to deal with this is welcome, I will be looking into it myself as well. If you've read this whole thing then thank you for letting me vent to you, I don't want to be alone with this.