#and like ONE good one that emphasises all of his important relationships

[lollytea]

If Owl House came out I'm 2014, Hunter would be drowning in Angel with a Shotgun amvs

[persicipen]

𑑛 “A GUARD FOR HIRE” ﾉ MOZE. HONKAI STAR RAIL

fem reader ﾉ words 2.8k ᯽ reader is a high-ranked diplomat. bit proud and bratty. petnames — princess. moze is giving emo aura. quickie. manhandling against the wall. thrill of getting discovered. cumming inside, mentioned protection. one night stand but suggestion to continue the relationship. flirting going both ways! ᯽ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ᯽

your diplomatic visit to one of the xianzhou ships is of utmost importance. thus, general feixiao lends her personal guard to ensure your safety. the short stroll in shadows takes an unexpected turn, one that leaves you both smitten.

The light breeze of the docks brings the scent of incense and distant melodies. Your arrival on one of the Xianzhou ships is marked by the swirl of silken banners and the quiet greeting of highest elegance between you and a few other diplomats.

The title of ‘Princess’ is a misnomer, one that clings to you like an unwanted gossip, yet here you stand, poised and ready to fulfill your role.

A figure detaches from the shadows as you step off the polished platform after exchanging pleasantries. Moze, the infamous shadow of the Great General Feixiao of the Xianzhou Yaoqing, moves with the quiet grace of a predator. His greyish features are looming over you like a storm, emphasising the stark contrast of his fuchsia eyes that seem to pierce through your very being. His demeanour is akin to a crow, brooding and enigmatic, a man of both dignity and foreboding.

“Welcome, Princess,” he addresses you with a curt nod, his voice low and devoid of warmth. The title grates on your nerves, but you swallow your irritation, knowing that he is your shield tonight.

“Good evening, indeed it is. Moze, correct? Long time no see…” you reply, striving to match his aloofness. “General Feixiao has entrusted you with my safety.”

He inclines his head again, a gesture that feels more like an acknowledgment of an obligation rather than respect. “Follow me,” he says, turning on his heel without waiting for your response.

You fall into step behind him, the bustling celebration fading as he leads you through a series of narrow passages. The noise of the festival is muffled here, replaced by the distant hum of the ship’s core and the occasional clink of unseen machinery. His presence is both a comfort and a source of unease; his silence is palpable, a constant reminder that one does not receive a prominent place by the general’s side so easily — he must possess many hidden talents, and you’re unsure if you should pursue your curiosity about any of them.

“As per usual, the security here is disappointing. Suspicious patrols are too active tonight,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “We must avoid unnecessary attention.”

You purse your lips, unsatisfied but unwilling to press further. The passageway twists and turns, your guide leading you with an unerring sense of direction until he suddenly halts, raising a hand to signal you to stop. You glance around, finding yourself in a secluded corridor, far from the festival’s epicentre.

His proximity is unsettling, the cold aura he exudes a barrier to the warmth of the celebration you can no longer hear. Yet, there is a confidence in his movements, a silent assurance that he will protect you, even if his loyalty remains as shadowed as his past. Should you even trust him? No, you mustn’t doubt the general’s word. She would not have sent her personal guard to you otherwise.

In a swift movement, Moze pushes you against the wall, eliciting a quiet gasp from your lips. One hand curls around your neck while the other grabs your hip, keeping you still.

“What are you doing?” you let out a silent scream at him, but he covers your mouth with his gloved hand — the awful realisation striking you how large his palm is compared to yours when you try to pull it away, unsuccessfully.

“Shh, patrols.” All he says, barely moving his lips, eyes flickering to the side and head tilted a degree to listen.

“But—”

He moves his hand, cupping your cheeks and chin instead, silencing you with the gesture. His touch feels heavy, inexplicably intimate. “I can’t let them see you.”

Your chest heaves as you struggle to find words to reply, but none come. His neon eyes burn into yours and it feels like the air has turned thicker, heavier, charged with electricity. You see him tense as footsteps echo through the closed street and then all of a sudden, he pulls you closer to him.

“Keep still. I can make us disappear.”

A violent shudder runs through your body at his command, and you immediately feel his thigh pressed between your legs. Is he even aware?

The silence hangs between you, filled only by the hammering of your heart and your harsh breathing. Every sense is attuned to his closeness, the hard press of his chest against yours, the heat emanating from his body, the rough texture of the metal details on his gloves against your skin. His fingers are tight on your chin, ensuring your eyes are fixed on him.

His presence is overwhelming, crushing, yet he seems completely unaffected, scanning the darkness with laser-like focus. How can he be so impassive? Why do you feel this way?

A small eternity passes before he finally relaxes his muscles, eyes gliding to meet yours — for the amount of emotions he shows, which is barely anything, they almost express an apology. “They’re gone.”

“Mhm,” you hum, unable to say anything else. You fear if you open your mouth, he’ll hear how your breathing hitches at his touch, hear the thoughts in your head that were anything but noble, hear your desire and confusion that pools in your core.

“We must move on, Princess. Don’t waste time,” he warns you as he steps back, unexpectedly releasing you from his grasp. Your body immediately misses his closeness, despite how overwhelming it felt. Trembling fingers clutch to his coat involuntarily, before you even notice they move on their own.

But Moze notices, ever vigilant, eyes quickly flashing to your hands, and back up at your face.

He then bows his head as he retrieves your hands away from him, placing them against your sides — almost tenderly. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath, before his brows knit together in a deep frown. “You are my duty. This is no time for idle musings.”

“Hmm… You say that, but do you know what I feel down there?” you whisper, clinging to him closer, the prominent bulge in his pants impossible to hide and easy for you to press after approaching these remaining inches between you two.

He remains still, save for the pulsating twitch beneath your fingers — he is quiet, the rise and fall of his chest slightly uneven, eyes glazed with indecipherable emotion.

A second too long for you to consider him interested, reading yourself to experience the worst shame, but he finally draws you in for a kiss, claiming your lips in a possessive manner, hungrily devouring your mouth like you’re air itself and he’s drowning.

Moze tastes just as you imagined — his tongue smooth, dark and wickedly talented as it glides against yours. The deep growl that reverberates from his chest seems to flow into your mouth, the sound sending an electric current of desire through your body. Your nails claw at his neck, hips desperately rolling against his thigh, searching for any friction you can get. Fuck his military pants and fuck how coarse they feel compared to your silken robes.

A muffled moan escapes your lips as he moves to trail his mouth along your jawline, leaving behind a blazing path of kisses and small nips.

“How far can I—?”

“Until you cum inside. I need to get rid of the stress from this whole delegation…” You could feel him smirking against your skin, but you don’t see it — his gloved fingers wrapping around your neck, making your head spin even more than it already did, but in the most delightful way.

“I assume this much already, but it’s safe, yes?” He suddenly stops, going from possessive to worried so quickly you barely catch up.

“Of course, I wouldn’t risk my career now,” you exhale, long lashes fluttering and lips swollen from his kisses.

You bunch up your expensive robes above your thighs, enough for him to see your glistening cunt, folds puffy with your slick, due to him — that rough fabric of his pants taunting you as a challenge to push you this far. Himself, he works fast on the buckles and belts of his pants, tugging down the parts necessary for his erection to spring free — he must have been aching for release just as much as you did, maybe even more. He gives himself a few pumps, ensuring he’s hard enough before he pulls you back into his embrace, just enough for him to access your entrance and lift you up without delay.

His mouth seeks yours again, this time with more urgency.

“So… Please, give me this honour. Take me. Give me something worth remembering after this night is over,” you mumble between his kisses, eyes wide open in anticipation of what is to happen.

The first thrust makes you weak in the knees, the feeling of his length sliding inside you is indescribable. You thought that his energy and aura were overwhelming before, but now it’s multiplied tenfold. You slip on one of your heels, but he secures you with his forearm under your lifted knee. The sound of your silk robes swishing as he moves against you is like music to your ears.

“Be quiet, Princess. Would you want someone to find us?” His voice is harsh, lips brushing against your earlobe as he whispers to you. As if reading your mind, because a wanton moan was already blooming in your throat, barely swallowed in time.

Your hips ache, both from the impact of being held in the air and how furiously you buck against him. You move in tandem, bodies writhing together, yet moze keeps control over your movements. The weight of his cock is deep and relentless, fucking you into a frenzy, making your eyes roll back as your legs tremble. His gaze burns into yours, all your attention consumed by his presence.

“How are you holding on?” His voice is barely above a whisper, eyes half-lidded and clouded with desire. “Knowing that it could end your career, how are you dealing with it?”

“I… Fuck, I don’t care about it now! You’re so smug about it, shouldn’t you do better if you still have the time to mock an official that pays you for your job?” you reply with a sharp pride, albeit quietly, but enough to send him the message. He seems almost impressed, judging by the smirk he gives you in return.

Fixing the hold he has on you, both of your knees now in the air and all your weight pressed against the wall and in the grip of his muscular arms, there’s no way to escape as he lets you fall on his shaft over and over again, deeper and deeper, his tip kissing your cervix, the movements harsh and quick.

“I can’t keep quiet!” you mewl right into his neck, your resolve faltering as your pleasure grows.

Moze chuckles darkly at your begging, apparently finding it amusing how you tremble and your eyes roll back as he relentlessly pounds into you.

“Look at me, Princess,” he commands. “You’ll cum with my eyes on you.”

His intense gaze holds you captive, like a moth drawn to the flame. Every detail fixed in your mind — his furrowed brow, lips parted as he draws in ragged breaths, neon eyes blazing with lust. Your body is on fire, every nerve tingling with pleasure, your release so close yet out of reach.

In a swift movement, he rolls his hips to angle himself against your sweet spot, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he feels you tighten around him.

“You’re so gorgeous when you’re desperate,” he whispers, leaning forward to trail his tongue along your throat. “If we were not on a mission, i’d have you spread out before me on the silken sheets.”

“Do… not… order… me… around…! Just because I— I’m vulnerable now!” you keep muttering under your breath, half-irritated by his words, half-trying to compose yourself so you wouldn’t moan through your gritted teeth. Your neck is soaked by his kisses and occasional nips that he leaves there as he adjusts his pace, both to match the quiet music of the festival and make sure he hits all the right spots inside you.

It works perfectly. Despite your persistence, a few times you were close to slip out from his grasp and into a loud and shameless moan, but he holds you with an iron grip, coaxing your orgasm out of you with expert precision.

Your muscles tense and your mind goes blank, all your senses honed in on the feeling of moze filling you, completing you. He presses his forehead against yours, gaze fixed on your face as you unravel, a ragged moan slipping past your lips. He curses under his breath, a strained groan that reverberates in your chest. The coil of pleasure within snaps, ecstasy washing over you in a violent wave, sparks dancing before your eyes as you clench around him. You cling to him, fingers tangling in his hair, nails digging into his shoulders, holding onto him like a lifeline.

He stills inside you, the tremors of your orgasm milking his cock, urging him to his release. During that minimal break, your eyes meet through the delirious haze, and you breathe out the quietest “come for me…” that works like a whip on him.

A rush of heat fills you as he cums with a staggered sigh, gloved fingers tightening their hold on your hips as he grinds against you, prolonging both your pleasures until he stills, tip pulsing with his release.

It feels so hot inside you, all you can think about is how you would look with your legs spread, his cum dripping down your thighs. How you would love to let that happen… but it is not an option for now.

But this moment will be forever imprinted in your memory, in the back of your mind. Especially when Moze presses his forehead against yours again, and pants right into your mouth — tousled but not sweaty, his stamina formidable.

“This is a bonus. But I still expect you to pay my wages,” he then smiles.

You huff at his demand, irritated by his assertiveness despite everything. “That is not what I had in mind. You think of me lowly! I would assume to pay you even more now that—”

“I’m not a whore, Princess. I’m fine with the original deal. This is a bonus, like I said. For being endearing.”

It’s a little saddening how quickly he puts you down, not waiting for your answer and adjusting his outfit in seconds. And yet somehow he still makes you feel special, like a prized possession he didn’t want to let go of, an unexpected gift wrapped up in a crumpled bow.

“Right… The deal,” you scoff, slowly but surely finding your ground on the heels. They seem to be like an additional leverage now that he fucked your brains out so thoroughly, you’re impressed how you can keep balance after that.

His cold facade only breaks when you step away from him. You barely notice his eyes flick to your face and then look at your heels, noticing how you seem more balanced than before. “Hmm… Not bad.”

“Is that praise I hear? Oh, do tell me more,” you smirk.

He huffs a little in amusement as you’re yet to realise there’s a drop of cum trickling down your inner leg. And then another one, finally tickling you enough to notice. He cocks an eyebrow, rather pleased about it, but says nothing — not out of sympathy, but because he finds it funny how you blink in confusion and then pick up the corner of your robes, wiping it against your wet entrance.

Your skin tingles where his touch lingered, all too aware of how exposed you feel. You are used to the skimpy dresses that are part of your designated fashion, but Moze stares at you with such intensity it’s like you’re standing naked before him. You push the thought from your mind and will yourself to meet his gaze.

“You should be proud, I’m usually not so easily pleased,” you say, though your voice wavers more than you would like.

A lopsided smirk is the only indication that he heard you as he adjusts his glove, turning his back to you and expecting you to follow. “My only task for tonight is to keep you safe. If you wish for my other services, you would have to convince General Feixiao first to borrow me again.”

You study him closely, wondering if his words are true. Your skin still buzzes with the memory of his touch, though your true responsibility forces you to disguise your feelings.

“Let’s go.”

[lumiambrose]

✰ open hand

kinktober 24 - day twentysix

featuring: sae itoshi x f!reader x ryusei shidou

summary: shidou wont shut up about you, to the point where sae starts to doubt you even exist. finally getting the chance to meet you, you leave an unforgettable impression on him

tags: smut, cucking, exhibistionism/voyeurism, implied threesome, petnames (sweetheart, kitty), slight degredation

wc: 1.8k

sae cocks an eyebrow as the door of the hotel suite clicks open. he’s been lounging on the loveseat for the past hour, waiting for shidou to show up with his supposed girlfriend. honestly, sae’s not too sure why he even agreed to this.

ever since shidou got together with his girlfriend, he refuses to shut up about her. always finding new ways to mention her or remind him of how hot his girlfriend is. it’s reached the point where sae is unsure if she even exists. calling shidou out on this, shidou offered to introduce her, which is how sae found himself in his current predicament.

shidou’s the first to enter the suite, loud as always, going on about how uninteresting the casino below the hotel is. although what takes sae by surprise is the pretty little lady entering the suite behind him, hand in hand with shidou. he does a one over on you, taking in all your features and curves. he can’t lie, shidou was nothing short of the truth. if sae were to ever date, you were the standard.

once spotting sae, shidou was quick to emphasise that you did, in fact, exist. “see, look at her. ain’t she stunning?” he says as his hand snakes it’s way to your waist, pulling you closer to him. you and sae briefly exchange pleasantries before settling into the suite. the next few hours we’re full of small talk. you got to know sae and his relationship with shidou, as well as their work. the exchanges were quite pleasant. despite sae’s unapproachable demeanour, you found him quite easy to talk to as he’s quite a good listener. with your boyfriend in the conversation too, it was nothing short of interesting.

you’re a couple drinks in, slightly tipsy, as your conversation gets interrupted. the comfortable atmosphere of the suite gets interrupted by an annoying ringing. turns out, sae’s manager is calling.

“give me a moment,” he says, stepping out onto the balcony to take the call, leaving you and shidou alone in the suite.

“so, whatcha think?” shidou nudges you, excited to question you now that sae has left the room.

you pretend to think long and hard at his question, “hmmm…” you feign. “he’s actually quite nice company, not to mention he’s good-looking.”

shidou’s eyes narrowed at your response, not expecting your answer but taking the opportunity to tease you a bit. “is that so?” he tuts, his right hand finding it’s way up to your chin, holding you in place. “don’t tell me you think he’s hotter than me,” he exclaims in an over dramatic manner, keeping your gaze focused on him.

you can only giggle at his reaction before you lean in, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “ryusei… are you jealous?” you mutter. your boyfriend, ever the shameless, holds you firm as he traces your bottom lip. “how could i not be, sweetheart? wanna be the center of your attention.” with that, he closes the distance, capturing your mouth with his own. shidou’s kisses are always intense, today is definitely no exception. his lips meet yours with hunger and passion as he bullies his way past your lips, playing with them as he invades your mouth. “keep your eyes on me. ok?” he groans against your lips.

seconds turn into minutes as the two of you continue your messy make out, until the sound of the balcony door sliding open wakes you from your trance. to be honest, he was watching for a while. it’s not like his manager had anything important to say, so he quite appreciated the show. sae is leaning against the doorway, his brow cocked as his expression falls nothing short of teasing as he watches your heated exchange.

your body is still pressed up against shidou’s, his arm is still tightly wrapped around your waist, not letting you go. you expect him to release you after noticing sae, but to your surprise, he hoists you up onto his lap so that your straddling him. you open your mouth to protest, but sae’s smirk says it all. “what’s wrong, kitty? don’t let sae here ruin the mood. i know you want this, and i’m sure he doesn’t mind.”

you do a one-over on the situation. you glance at shidou, then turn to sae, who’s making himself comfy on the loveseat again, and then back to shidou. he’s grinning with mischief, seeing as he knows you want this. he knows that the thought of being watched turns you on and he’s just waiting for you to cave.

if this were anyone else, you would probably decline, clean yourself up, and pretend nothing ever happened. but this is sae itoshi, the japanese prodigy, and someone your boyfriend considers a close friend. so you swallow your pride, let out an exaggerated sigh and crash lips with shidou once again.

despite this kiss being just as intense as the last one, there’s something different about it. something igniting a fire inside you, which makes you push shidou onto the bed, now lying on top of him as you continue your heated makeout. he holds you close, so that your breasts are squished against him as he slowly rocks you up and down on his body. before you can even process it, your shirt is ripped off, and shidou is wriggling you out of your skirt and underwear. you then help him out of his clothes, leaving you both naked in front of sae.

you spare a quick glance at sae, he’s almost unreadable. he’s lounging on the loveseat, legs spread and champagne in hand as he watches you. his expression is unreadable, if you had to guess, you’d say he even looks uninterested. but the way he’s watching you and shidou with such detail makes you think otherwise. since you and shidou continued your session, his eyes have never left the two of you once. from the way you grind on shidou’s lap to the way he holds you firm from the back of your throat, he’s watching it all, not missing out on a single detail.

the sounds you and shidou make fill the room. your lips smashing against each other and your quiet moans keeping sae fixated on you. watching as you get more desperate, pulling away from the kiss to focus more on grinding on your boyfriend.

“you enjoying this, sweetheart? you like it when sae watches you whore yourself out for me?” he teases from beneath you, his large hands sliding up your body to palm your breasts. “what a naughty girl.” he flicks your hardened peaks, earning a moan from you that goes straight to his dick and also to sae’s, which is evident by the clear tent in his slacks. his cock feels heavier than normal, pressing against his boxers, aching for release. although, instead of giving in and relieving his stress, he chooses to ignore it, his grip on the champagne flute tightening. shidou notices this, deciding to tease him, “you seem awfully frustrated, sae. no need to restrain yourself, enjoy the show.” he grips your face, forcing you to turn around and lock eyes with sae in your fucked-out state, “i won’t take offence. she’s quite the sight for sore eyes, isn’t she?” with that, shidou fully turns you around, so that your body is facing sae. he hoists you off him for a second, giving him enough time to free his cock. letting it slap against his abs before he pulls you back.

still facing sae, he slowly sinks you down on his length. making you squirm with every inch and moaning at the penetration. sae’s eyes darken as he watches you sit down, his gaze fixed on the point where your bodies connect. the way your face contorts in pleasure, the sounds that escaped your lips—it’s too much for him to bear. he can feel his cock throbbing—begging for release. giving in, he finally unbuttons his slacks, letting out a needy sigh as he finally frees his member.

shidou guides your hips, helping you ride him, and sae can’t help but notice the way your breasts bounce with every movement. the sight was intoxicating, licking his lips unconsciously, as the sight of you goes straight to his cock.

"fuck, look at her," shidou groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he thrusts up into you. "she's so fucking tight, I can feel every inch of her.”

sae cocks a brow at his words. the way your walls clench around shidou's cock, the way your body trembles with pleasure, it’s a sight to behold. he can feel his cock twitch at the sight, leaking with precum. sae slides his thumb over his slit, collecting the leaking liquid, shuddering at the sensation before starting to stroke his cock, imagining your warm walls squeezing him instead of his fist.

"you like that, don't you?" shidou growles, his eyes boring into yours as he continues to thrust into you. "you like being watched, like having sae see how well you take my cock.”

your moans only grow louder, and sae finds himself even more enamoured by you, watching you intently as he matches his strokes to the rhythm shidou sets. he sees the pleasure etched on your face, the way your body moves in sync with shidou as the sound of skin on skin fills the room. he's mesmerised, unable to look away as every movement makes blood rush to his dick. but to his dismay, it seems this little show you put on for him wont last long. shidou’s thrusts slowly become more desperate, opting to hold you above him as he drills into you while you’re babbling incoherent sentences about how “you’re close”.

before you know it, you’re orgasm is crashing over you, screaming out shidou’s name as your body is trembling in ecstasy. even if you want to, any shame left in your body leaves as you ride out your high in front of the two men. shidou, not far behind, finds his own release deep inside of you. spilling his hot cum in your cunt, before sitting you back down on his lap. leaving sae the only one unsatisfied.

shidou, taking advantage of the situation, lifts you off him. letting his cum seep out of you before walking over to where sae is seated and occupying the space next to him. “would ya look at that, kitty,” he coos as you shakily make your way over to them, collapsing inbetween the two men's laps. “seems like our little performance wasn’t enough for sae.” shidou takes your right hand, directing it towards sae’s hard cock, replacing his hand with your own. “how about you be a good little slut and finish him off, hm? can’t have our prodigy missing out on all the fun, can we?”

taglist: @ryescapades @143-ilyuu @maruflix @pixelcafe-network

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[mclennonlgbt]

(JUST LIKE) STARTING OVER WAS DEFINITELY FOR PAUL – a compilation

A meaningful wordplay As you know, John attached great importance to the lyrics of his songs. He liked to smuggle in word games and hidden meanings. Let's look at a fragment of the lyrics of "(Just Like) Starting Over". It's time to spread our wings and fly Wings was Paul's band in the 1970s.

Don't let another day go by

"Another Day" is a song by Paul and Linda that was released as the A-side of a non-album single in February 1971. It was Paul's debut single, following the Beatles break-up in 1970. (Sidenote: giving credits to both himself and Linda, Paul broke up the Lennon-McCartney partnership, angering Allen Klein).

my love

"My Love" is a 1973 song by Wings. The single was viewed as Wings' first significant success.

2. The demos

In the first demo, John uses the word "walrus":

Everyday we used to make it love so why can’t we be making love – it’s easy. The time has come, the walrus said, for you and me to stay in bed again, it’ll be just like starting over

The walrus is a famous motif from Beatles songs. In the song "I Am The Walrus" (1967) John declares that he is the titular walrus, a year later in "Glass Onion" he stated: „And here’s another clue to you all – the walrus was Paul”. In "God" (1970) John sings: "I was the walrus." In an interview from 1969 or 1970, George jokes: „And if you are listening, I am the walrus too”. Regardless of which Beatles was the walrus, John is for sure giving us an interesting clue here.

As for „in bed”:

Here's another fascinating demo... This requires no comment. It's just that John suddenly referred to "Why Don't We Do it In the Road", a song by Paul from the Beatles era.

EDIT:

The whole fragment is:

Just take your clothes off honey, and stick your nose in money.. why don’t we… do it in the road?! (Laughs) A little hotel where we used to screw A little place down in Montauk Just you, me, the cook and the servants too

As @i-am-the-oyster pointed out (the screen is theirs) - it's a 17 minute drive from Paul's house in the Hamptons to Montauk Motel.

3. John explaining who the song is for

„I’m not aiming, I am not aiming at 16 year olds. If they can dig it, please dig it. But when I was singing and writing this and working with her, I was visualizing all the people of my age group from the 60s. Being in their 30s and 40s now, just like me, and having wives and children and having gone through everything together, I am singing to them! I hope the young kids like it as well, but I’m really talking to the people that grew up with me and saying: „Here I am now, how are you? How’s your relationship going? Did you get through it all? Wasn’t the 70s a drag? You know, here we are, let’s try and make the 80s good, you know, because it’s still up to us to make what we can of it. It’s not out of our control”. I still believe in love, peace. I still believe in positive thinking when I can do it. I’m not always positive but when I am, I try and project it”.

Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqxPx2Tvf6A

Let’s point out that the song which convinced John to come out of retirement was „Coming up” by Paul. You want a love to last forever One that will never fade away I want to help you with your problem Stick around, I say

(…)

You want some peace and understanding So everybody can be free I know that we can get together We can make it, stick with me

BONUS (this is not evidence or premise, but maybe Paul understood that the song was addressed to him): Paul's reaction to the song after John's death.

„…Time passed. Paul locked the door of his home studio and played (Just Like) Starting Over, the first single from Double Fantasy. Top volume. For days”.

- Christopher Sandford, „McCartney”

EDIT:

(it's also @i-am-the-oyster's reveal): One Sweet Dream podcast did an interview where May Pang agreed with the host (JL)SO was for Paul and emphasised that it wasn't about Yoko -- it's a patrons-only episode so I can't link it, but it's April 2023, around the 1h29 mark).

I would take it with a grain of salt, though, because May (for valid reasons) dislikes Yoko.

As @paul-mccartney-official noticed, the stripped down mix of this song begins with:

When they were teenagers, John and Paul identified with their musical idols: John was Buddy Holly and Paul was Little Richard or Elvis.

This is Lennon talking about his and McCartney's meeting at Village Woolton fete:

It is possible that John refers to his youthful years in this dedication. However, there is also an option that he mentioned his former idols, because "(Just like) starting over" musically refers to the 1950s. It depends on you what you believe in.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Going back to season one, something that makes season two’s lack of character choice worse is the fact season one ends with a cultivation of choice.

It is the story’s core on full display.

Jinx’s choice between Jinx and Powder, followed by her choice to attack the council, and the council’s choice to give Zaun Independence. All of which are game changing choices that set up further conflict of choice in season two… and it’s barely followed through with. Yes, choices are still made, but they lack the same weight previously given.

In fact, season two unintentionally emphasises a lack of choice and frames it positively, the biggest example being in Jayce and Viktor, who, previously, had a relationship hinged on chance and choice. Viktor chose to take Jayce’s research from Heimerdinger and help him, saving his life in the process. He chose to break into Heimerdinger’s lab, followed by a scene where Mel chooses to let them do so. Jayce and Viktor choose to trust each other — total strangers they may be.

And the falling out of their relationship is caused by the opposing choices they make, with Jayce having to choose between science and politics, and Viktor having to choose between his morality or his own life.

So, the reveal of Viktor being the mage, who set Jayce on this course in life, and the reveal that in every universe that Viktor takes this path, only Jayce can show him the truth, feels less impactful the more you think about it, because it doesn’t work for the previously established story between them, which was rooted in social conflict. It feels like two separate plot lines for different characters.

No more is their relationship driven by choice or chance, it feels driven by fate, and if their story was always meant to end this way, the conflict and tragedy of season one is left to rot, with no real acknowledgment of what made them fall apart in the first place.

And then there’s characters like Mel too, who similarly had choices to make between Piltover and between Noxus, and she makes her choice at the end of season one, only for that to be meaningless in the end. Now, I love tragedy, but tragedy is only good when handled well, and Mel’s arc was not handled well. She makes a choice, yes, but it does not feel one of her own violation, rather it is what the narrative expects of her. Like Jayce and Viktor, her arc feels like a complete shift from the character we had set up in season one, and she suffers for this.

To simplify it:

Season two has characters make choices, but those choices are no longer important nor do they feel as though they hold any true weight overall, both due to them going against what has been established, and the lack of actual build up.

Season one built up to the character’s final choices of the season. Season two did multiple one eighties that made the goals and final choices unclear or rushed.

[mysterycitrus]

All of your Bruce takes are so real and so true. It must break your back having to carry the weight of being the most correct batman account on this website. 🙏🏻 I love your thoughts about Bruce and Dick in particular and I was wondering if you had any thoughts about Bruce and Damian? Something about them is just… oh boy.

that’s very sweet but untrue, anon 🫰

i love damian and bruce's relationship, but it's hard to talk about without mentioning two other crucial people - talia and dick. for my own sanity i only accept damian's conception as a consensual act, so in this context talia is a fundamentally well-meaning person who attempted to protect her son from a violent life, and hid his existance from bruce until she felt he could be safe. damian loves and respects his mother. this is important.

dick, on the other hand, is really the foundation for their relationship. bruce spent like two weeks with this kid before he went on his timestream roadtrip and left everything behind for dick to juggle. contrary to popular opinion, i think it's a real disservice to act like dick taught damian to "be a good person" or like basic etiquette - a more realistic interpretation would be that dick taught damian that he didn't have to prove himself to be worth something.

the robin mantle from the time it was taken from dick has always been about proving yourself to bruce, to justify your role as his partner. always unfairly, mind (think how tim is treated vs. steph, for example), but damian is the first robin's robin. dick isn't a wayne, he's a grayson. there's an interesting point of comparison being that dick is the only robin who had a clear trajectory for his life prior to his parents dying - he was a core member of the worlds greatest acrobatic troupe - but he then left that path to become something else. damian is destined for the bat, but becomes robin instead, serving beside someone who achieved greatness by his own skill and kindness. damian has been told about his father, and here he is with someone who knows bruce better than anyone but also understands what robin means, better than anyone. i cannot emphasise how important i think dick being damian's first batman is for their own development. it's so so crucial to combat damian's perspective on family and blood. it's so important that he has that foundational knowledge of what robin means.

by the time bruce returns, damian has made tangible human connections in gotham. he's not the prickly, reactive kid that bruce first met. he's allowed himself to trust that the people around him have his best interests in mind. he knows that he isn't cared for because he's bruce's son - he's cared for because he's worth loving. his siblings aren't competition for affection or honour. he no longer sees bruce as an omnipotent force, and rather as a man he could learn to love. i think seeing bruce through both talia and dick's persepectives really helps with that.

bruce i think is confronted by the fact that for the first time in his life he can't try and hide behind the "im not really xyz's father" excuse. not that his adopted kids aren't his kids, obviously, but i do think he sometimes tries to lean on that as a crutch so he doesn't get attached (way too late for that lol). he loves damian, and there's a lot of fear about damian reflecting his worst habits, his most self-destructive behaviours back at him. maybe there's some fear about damian's history of killing, and how close bruce himself always feels to that edge. maybe there's misery about missing one of his kids growing up, again, like he's always a second too late to the important moments. bruce and damian are so similar, but this is bruce's second chance to be there. he is thomas wayne, emerging from the alley alive. do u think damian looks like his grandparents?

[derelictlovefool]

❝​🇪​​🇲​​🇪​​🇷​​🇬​​🇪​​🇳​​🇨​​🇪​-⦂❝

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝.

Notes: Don't forget part one and part two! Reader and Wade suck at communicating some more, Peter's a good pal and you should remember to never walk past dark alleyways at night kids, especially when your recent ex is a merc!

Warning/s: Canon Typical violence, kidnapping, graphic depictions of violence, unhealthy relationships, toxic behaviour, angst, references to alcohol consumption & sexually explicit activities, explicit language

Words: 3k

The act of finishing a favourite hot beverage had never been so difficult, so tense and unendurable. You and Wade had sat in stuffy silence, neither giving in and or walking away; the only two ways to push the painful interaction forward. You had so much you wanted to say but no words would come out, your leg bounced under the table and you'd locked your arms over each other. You were trying with all your might to block him out, physically and mentally, but it would never work with him right across from you. You inhaled deeply and exhaled just as roughly, Wade's own movements Mimicking yours as he adjusted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Look at us," he finally muttered, "This is sadder than the shitty apartment in that game they made about me." He sighed and you felt like tossing your empty mug at his head for the reference you couldn't conjure in your mind, no one in this universe was making games in honour of Deadpool—or Wade Wilson. No one was making anything his face or name anywhere near it. He was right that it was fucking sad though, you wouldn't argue with that.

"Whose fault is that?" You couldn’t help but be snippy, indignation heavy in your tone, your back restlessly hitting the back of the booth that started to feel more suffocating as the seconds ticked by. You wanted to be anywhere else, you wanted to turn back time and be sitting in this booth with Wade making jokes about the cafe decor and not remarking on your crumbling relationship.

"I blame Daniel Way and Damon Wilson-Hart personally—"

You shot him a pointed look and he cut himself off, the mirage of humour and escaping this reality joining the hot cocoa in his stomach acid as he all but deflated before you.

"How many times do I gotta say sorry?" His shoulders slumped and he held his hands up in question, he'd never sounded so lost. And there were plenty of times when he had been, maybe in even more dire and important ways than this. One's where you weren't involved.

"I don't know Wade, I've never had that big of a shitshow breakup before and I can't just snap my fingers and get over it." You snapped your fingers to emphasise your point, "I wish I could just forgive you and have nothing but happy, bubbly feelings for you again but that's not how the real world works." You unfold your arms, spreading them out across the table and you seem him almost reach out to grab one of your hands when you do; you weren't sure if you would have recoiled, or if you would have grabbed him back tight enough to leave a bruise—so you're relieved when he doesn't.

It would just make it harder.

"What do we do now then? I'm no good at grovelling, I'm much better at shovelling and shooting, neither of those apply here—or do they?"

"If I were to start somewhere Wade I'd figure out how you're gonna tell me what happened, with all the gritty details, " you ignored his latter question, "and maybe while you're at it some therapy would do you some good." You hated how harsh you sounded but you needed to say it, it's not like you were asking too much—Well the therapy might have been a step too far for Wade but you stood by it. No matter how much you praised the work your therapist had done while helping you Wade never got more than a hundred feet within a practice or office.

It was like he was allergic to the mere concept of therapy and getting help.

"And what about you?"

"I have an appointment with my therapist and i'm gonna bitch and moan about you, wait for them to fix me and tell me what to do so I can argue with them for ten minutes… And end up doing the opposite." You rolled your eyes, expecting a scoff or some kind of dig, that seemed to be what you were both good at right now. But what you got was almost worse.

"So there's still hope… For us?" His words left a heavy feeling hanging over you and you suddenly found your fingernails very interesting. Caught off guard and forced to deal with yourself rather than him had you shfiting in your seat. You wanted to say yes, of course, there was never no hope for you. No matter how many scenarios you played in your head none of them had you walking away from the merc, it just wasn't something you were capable of. Your therapist would be extremely disappointed but despite all you'd told them no one really understood you and Wade, and no one ever really would.

Even when it felt like you were worlds apart it was you two against everybody else.

You envisioned the both of you back to back, tied by that silly red string pulled tight enough to draw blood, your skin on Wade's and the both of you unable to move lest the cord pull tighter and choose to free you both of your heads and hearts. The more you thought about it the more you got to realise how much you'd let yourself need Wade and how your therapist had some credibility when they tossed the co-dependency thing around. You wished you’d never heard the word and kept living in blissful ignorance but it was too late for that, you and Wade were all kinds of messed up and this whole situation was proving a myriad of things you didn’t want to think about.

"I hope so." You whispered, the sentiment genuine as it tumbles from your lips. You wanted to stop being angry. you wanted to stop your chest from aching anytime you glanced at him and got flooded by the memories of the last two years—and that fucking breakup. God you wanted to forget about it and tuck it away into the memories that gave you hives box and never think about it again. Depending on someone wasn't a crime and you knew Wade felt the same, even if it was for different reasons. That day had apparently sucked for both of you but you dared to say you got the shorter end of the stick.

Your phone buzzed, Wade stared you down from across the table.

You picked it up and despite the notification being nothing more than a reminder for your appointment the next day you stood and stuffed it away in your pocket. You couldn’t deal with this right now, the angry arguments you could handle but the raw, open vulnerability was too much—at least for a cafe. Maybe if you were back in your apartment you’d feel more inclined to sit in it and talk. Actually talk. But you weren’t at your apartment.

"I gotta go, I'll… See you around Wade." It felt weird to walk past him without squeezing his shoulder or pressing a kiss to the leather of his suit; all of this felt wrong and you wanted to try all over again. Maybe you should have just stayed home, actually. Wade grabbed your wrist and you took a moment to steel yourself before looking down at him, his expression hidden by that red fabric and blank white eyes set into the black coverings.

"Tomorrow night. I'll see you." It was a firm declaration and it had you wondering all sorts of things but you were too tired to argue. You nodded and his hand lingered over yours as he slowly let you go. It felt nice, for a brief moment, to have your hand in his; the warmth of his palm and gentle touch of his fingertips. But it slipped away and you walked out, holding your head high as you forced yourself to head down the street. You found yourself at another park across the city, sitting on a bench and scrolling through your contacts as you thought about how to distract yourself.

Normally you loved the weekend—Normally you had Wade or friends to hang out with.

But as you looked at the names of your buddies you couldn't think of one that wouldn't give you another 'I told you so' lecture about Wade and you really didn't need that right now. You needed to think about literally anything else at that moment—or be supported in some other, less Wade-hating way.

You jumped as your phone rang and you stared at the photo on your screen for a second before you picked up the call.

"Hi Pete." You greeted, brows furrowed as the sound of wind gushing past the receiver met your ears.

"Spidey senses were tingling, you okay?" He asked, voice muffled by his mask, and you can't help but laugh. No, you were so far from okay, and Peter was not one of the people who'd keep his mouth shut about Wade. He hated him, or at the very least had an extreme dislike for him—even when you were dating, he didn't keep his disdain about it to himself. You got that's what friends were for in so many cases, but sometimes it really pissed you off, and you weren't sure you could handle any of that right now.

"I'm fine," a long pause, "Okay no, I feel like shit but I really, really, don't want to talk about it." You muttered, chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced around the park. People walked by like usual, none of their world's were crumbling at the seams because their boyfriend broke up with them—they were happy, or, happier than you. The wind died down on the other side of your phone, and you jumped as the bench bounced with the weight of someone leaping onto the wood beside you.

You turned to the side, Peter crouching beside you, fully suited up and phone now tucked safely away. You let yours fall to your lap as Spiderman now squinted at you, scrutinising the eye bags and red eyes as you stared back at him hoping he didn't say the one name you don't wanna hear from him.

"Hello totally-random-sad-bench-citizen whom I don’t know, you look like you need pizza and a joyride." You were pleasantly surprised when he held his hands out to you. People were whispering around you again, but this time, it was all directed at the superhero beside you. You stood, took his hand and let him help you to your feet, jumping on his back in what you both liked to call 'backpack buddy mode'. Within a second you were flying through the crisp air, you gasped, always in awe no matter how many times you'd done this. The feeling of flying through the air, far away from all your issues, was like nothing else. It was freeing.

You clung to Peter's shoulders and tried to get a good look at the city streets below, where everything looked like ants, and you felt like a God watching the world go by. If only you could stay up here with the birds, never touch the ground or have to focus on your problems like a grown adult.

Apparently and thankfully, Peter had already ordered pizza, and when you arrived at the rooftop of one of the taller apartment complexes in the city, there was a pizza box and cans of soda waiting. You wondered if he’d spotted you on your walk earlier, it would be too far-fetched to guess he saw you run into Wade and head to the cafe. You would be surprised if that were the case, seeing as he’d been like your small, chihuahua sized guard dog hellbent on keeping Wade away from you as you dealt with everything. Maybe he had realised what your therapist had already known or a year.

Wade was your problem and your solution all wrapped up in one messy little bow. You couldn’t get past this without him.

"I don't want a heart to heart over pizza and soda, just so you know." He set you down safely on the brick and shrugged in reply, walking over to the ledge to sit down.

"Duly noted, you want me to hear about my day then?" He clapped his hands together, and you smiled, nodding in genuine eagerness—hearing about someone else for a while might just do the trick of getting you out of your own head. And damn did you need out of it for a second.

"Okay, good, because you're not gonna believe what these bank robbers did this morning, these guys really get their routines from looney tunes or something." And so he began, pushing his mask up to his nose so he could 'chow and pow', the term you coined for talking shit and stuffing your face while you were at it. Very unattractive but inevitable when you were eating and deep into your rant.

Peter waved his arms about as he regaled the stupidity of a group of bank robbers and then the old lady who nearly got him hit by a bus, it was nice to lose yourself to his day for a while. You even laughed, a full, belly-aching laugh with snorts and all. You stayed on the roof until the sun began to set, and you ended laying on your back, legs dangling over the ledge as you and Peter fell into a comfortable silence. Staring at the clouds carving their snail pace across the sky and the shifting hues of the sky beyond them.

The pizza box and soda cans were empty, and for a moment, so was your mind. You could close your eyes, and everything was totally blank. Just a serene nothing as you listened to the faded sounds of the city and your own breathing.

"I know you don't want to talk about it."

Fuck. There it was. You cringed, squeezing your eyes shut as you readied yourself for whatever he was about to say.

"I'm here if you need me, I think I said all I wanted to say…" He trailed off and you recalled Peter arriving in your apartment the night of the breakup, his anger had almost rivalled your own anguish and he had definitely had plenty of choice things to say about… About Wade. About your relationship too, but mostly Wade.

"Breakups suck, and if you need another joyride and pizza hour with your friendly neighbourhood… With your friend, I'm here." Peter knocked your knuckles together, and you felt yourself relax, appreciative of where that had gone. Far from what you'd been expecting. You rolled your head to the side and shot him a smile, matching his own as you returned the weak fist bump.

"Thanks Pete,"

"Anytime… You need a ride home? Free of charge." You grinned as you pulled yourself up and he followed suit.

"Nah, can you drop me off at Faun Street? I think I need to walk in thoughtful silence for a bit." You mused, there was a lot you needed to get in order in your own head before you faced Wade again. You needed to decide whether you were gonna accept whatever he said and maybe try to work things out or put your foot down and decide… That it was maybe time you two were just friends again. Even though the thought alone made your stomach turn over itself uncomfortably.

"Yeah, okay, I get it." And with that, you were off, having the short and fun ride of binning your trash mid-air and being dropped off right across from the café you and Wade had sat in earlier today. You hugged Peter goodbye, and after he vanished around a corner, you rolled your shoulders and turned on your heel—headed toward the park that eventually would lead you back home.

You had to evaluate some things, like how much you could be okay with Wade's reasoning for the spectacle he made of your breakup. You think you'd need a while to get over how public and angry it was, he didn't need to be that cruel about it—no matter what. The thought he was trying to protect you in his own twisted way did make sense, but it didn't make it hurt any less. You weren't sure there was anyone for you after Wade, no one could full the shape of him in your heart, you doubted anyone would want to. So even if it had gone smoother, even if it had been cordial and he had gotten stuck forever in a black hole; you would have been more likely to steal a spaceship and save him yourself. Somehow.

You'd managed to find him in wieder places before. If he had more faith in you, let you into that side of his world more openly, then it wouldn't have been a problem in the first place. Maybe that was it, you had to break down that wall between Deadpool and Wade Winston Wilson, the division he put up to keep you away from the blood and guts of his operation—literally and figuratively Maybe then he could be more honest, still a dick but one that wouldn't break up with you on the basis of not being able to tell you the truth.

You sighed, running a hand over your face as you crossed onto the street and past an alleyway, poor timing on obscuring your vision there you'd admit later. Especially as multiple hands shot out and took hold of you all at once—your side hit the ground and your body scraped across the concrete harshly, your skin burned and the air escaped your lungs before you could make any type of distinguishable noise. You barely got a glance at the shadowy figures around you before a heavy force hit the back of your head, blacking out your vision and leaving you limp and unconscious.

End notes: Hope you enjoyed this part, let know know what you thought about it! The next part’s gonna be tons of fun! :)

[saintsenara]

What do you think about Tom Riddle Sr?And your thoughts on Tom Riddle Sr/Merope Gaunt as a ship? I read some of your answers on Merope Gaunt and I just adore your fic 'Enchanter's Nightshade'. I was curious as to what your thoughts are on his canon character, the way that he is treated in fanon and if you have any headcanons on his character

thank you very much for the asks, pal - and i'm sorry that i'd entirely forgotten that i had an answer for the first sitting in my drafts until the second arrived in my inbox...

[thank you also for the very kind shoutout to enchanter's nightshade!]

and i find tom sr. extremely interesting as a character, and he's someone i think quite a lot of compelling stuff can be done with in fanfiction - particularly in how fic writers can take a sledgehammer to how he's treated by the canon narrative...

which - of course - means that there is a trigger warning for a discussion of rape in what follows, which is under the cut.

tom and merope

it's worth starting by emphasising that the series never thinks of tom sr. as a victim. it treats love potions as benign and broadly amusing [the only time we ever see someone under the influence of one - ron in half-blood prince - it's played for laughs], describes merope's drugging of tom sr. as something she would consider "romantic", and never acknowledges that she was his rapist.

[although it is important to point out that the fanon that voldemort's issues with love come from the circumstances of his conception is something jkr never said. and i also think that it's important, when thinking about tom and merope's relationship, to recognise that all the evidence of canon is that she is subjected to incestuous sexual violence at the hands of her brother and/or father - she is an abused teenager with no meaningful understanding of consent or bodily autonomy, and she evidently views her "relationship", as she sees it, with tom as a means of escaping a life which is undeniable, unrelenting misery.]

[which is to say - i find tom and merope interesting as a pairing because of this inherent nuance, tragedy and violence.]

the series also criticises tom sr. for leaving the relationship - in line both with its broader disdain for absent fathers and idealisation of devoted mothers, and with its prioritisation of love-as-suffering and love-as-sacrifice over forms of love which are more self-indulgent. its view is evidently that tom sr. should have gritted his teeth and remained in merope's life in some way or another [maybe not as her husband, but also not as her survivor] in order to have been involved in his son's life.

indeed, it always stands out to me that - when discussing tom sr. fleeing his abusive relationship - dumbledore refers to merope as "merope riddle". emphasising that the two were married underscores the fact that the text views tom sr. as straightforwardly unadmirable - a husband and father who abandoned his family.

[and he gets his comeuppance. i think it's worth noting that the narrative isn't sympathetic at all about his death - the opening chapter of goblet of fire, where voldemort's murder of the riddles is described, states plainly that nobody likes them - and he finds himself unable to outrun the son he left behind when that son uses his bones in his resurrection ritual... the subtext is clear: abandoning your son was the wrong move, and since good people - like james and lily - don't abandon their son even after their deaths, tom sr. is therefore a bad person.]

that both dumbledore and harry see him like this makes sense within their watsonian characterisations. harry has - as he says when lupin tries to walk out on the pregnant tonks - the view that parents should never abandon their children unless they have literally no choice, which is a perfectly understandable opinion for an orphan who lost their parents in such traumatic circumstances to hold [he also takes a very dim view on merope for dying]. dumbledore, who recognises the dangerous paths overwhelming desire can lead one down, sees himself in merope, and is therefore less willing to examine the cruelty of her actions.

voldemort also thinks of him in this vein - his view of his father, expressed during his resurrection scene in goblet of fire, is that he abandoned merope [with whom he had a consensual relationship] in a fit of pique when she confessed to him that she was a witch. voldemort thinks of his father as a deadbeat who left him to rot - and the series never takes issue with him holding this view, even as it works to prove many of the other things he believes about himself, magic, and power wrong.

tom and voldemort

the role tom sr. plays in voldemort's narrative arc, then, is pretty much unconnected to his experiences at merope's hands - he is not considered by the text to be a warning about the corrosive, oppressive, violent potential of using magic against muggles which voldemort follows his mother in doing, for example.

his role in his son's arc across the seven-book canon is to underscore that voldemort will never successfully outrun his muggle heritage - the fact that his son has his face and his name [and the fact that dumbledore, and then harry, insist on using this name for him after voldemort sheds it, which is - and we should call it what it is, especially given jkr's stance on such things - deadnaming] serves as a way for the text to criticise and humiliate voldemort, undermining his belief that he's something pure and special [and undermining his pride in his descent from slytherin] by making clear that, when all is said and done, he's just an ordinary man with a muggle father.

and so his death occurs purely to enable this narrative treatment of voldemort. he has to kill his dad - because he's trying to eradicate anything muggle from himself - and so the action becomes all about him. tom is basically just there.

but this is something i really like playing with in my own work. i always end up writing tom sr. as not only physically resembling his son - except for the fact, and i'll die on the hill that this is the canon text's intention, that voldemort has his mother's eyes - but as being the source of his mannerisms and many of his non-childhood-trauma-induced personality traits.

partially this is because i think we might as well take the series' belief that voldemort can't escape the riddle genes and go the whole hog with it.

but it's also because i think it's worth skewering the series' view of voldemort's slytherin heritage as - essentially - dooming him to be incapable of change in either positive or negative directions. the way the gaunts are described in canon - violent, unstable, grandiose etc. - is set up to suggest that voldemort gets these aspects of his personality from them, that - like the parseltongue - being a terrorist with delusions of grandeur is just something the heirs of slytherin are bound to inherit.

but i like idea of these traits coming from the less mystical branch of voldemort's lineage - and his decision to indulge them being nothing more than deliberate choice.

tom riddle sr. character notes and headcanons

which leads us to the question of what tom sr. is like as a character separate from merope and voldemort.

we only see him once in canon - where he's talking in a carrying voice to cecilia about how much land his dad owns and correctly identifying morfin as a danger to society - and he's only mentioned a handful more times: his whirlwind marriage; his return home a few months later, which he explains as him having realised he'd been "hoodwinked"; the fact that he's considered even worse than his "rich, snobbish, and rude" parents by the villagers of little hangleton in the period immediately before his death; and that he dies in his evening clothes with a look of pure terror on his face.

his gravestone in the goblet of fire film has him born in 1905, and i like this [although i push his date of birth back a couple of years in order for him to have finished university when he's attacked by merope] because it enables him to be a stereotypical "bright young thing" - the sort of dissolute aristocrat, untroubled both by his father's victorian morals and by the devastating impact of the first world war on men a decade or so older than him, whose exploits dominate our image of the roaring twenties [or - at least - the roaring twenties in britain]. at the start of 1925, before his life all goes wrong, i like him as idle, profligate, bohemian, constantly partying, a keen user of cocaine, promiscuous, vain, and incredibly rude to his servants, tradesmen, and policemen and so on - spending his days in a whirlwind of hangovers, tennis, elaborate fancy-dress balls, modern novels, dining at his club, and piles of liberated flappers, vile bodies [and jeeves and wooster...] style.

and i do think the idea of him as lazy, convinced of his own brilliance, and complacent [personality traits not helped by an education at eton and oxford - he takes a fourth, the lowest-possible passing classification, on a degree in greats - which he has neither the intellect nor the work ethic to succeed at without the power of daddy's money] offers a really interesting side to him being preyed on by merope.

i like him as someone who thinks of himself as rational, cheerfully irreligious, and far too modern and well-bred to waste his time on the silly superstitions of the boring, ordinary people in the village. him mentioning to cecilia about the stories the villagers tell about morfin can be read as him being condescendingly amused by local folklore surrounding the gaunts - a sort of "would you believe it, one of our gardeners is convinced they're wizards! too, too funny!" vibe - and i really like writing him as someone whose total rejection of the possibility of magic and conviction that the gaunts are just pitiable and disgusting, rather than dangerous [the view of the rest of the village], means that when merope offers him a glass of shimmering water he thinks "why, what a lark!" instead of running.

when he returns home, however, i imagine him as profoundly changed - paranoid, beset by nightmares, increasingly superstitious [voldemort's own rather... catholic leanings being mirrored in his father going full sebastian flyte is delicious to me], unwilling to eat or drink anything he hasn't seen prepared [one of the reasons, perhaps, why the servants at the riddle house dislike him so much], unable to go anywhere near the stables and see the horse he was riding when evil befell him, unwilling to talk to anyone or receive visitors [hence his reputation for being snobbish and rude - the villagers interpret this as him thinking them beneath him], unwilling to spend money or give gifts because he's afraid of unwittingly finding himself ensnared again [giving him a reputation for being rather miserly], and so on.

i like the idea of him becoming incredibly reclusive, losing his interest in the social life he once enjoyed overnight, and spending his days sleeping poorly and staying inside. i imagine his parents being supportive to the best of their ability, but that tom's inability to speak openly what happened to him [he, like his son, doesn't like doctors because he fears they will accuse him of being mad] means they can only do so much. their understanding of tom's marriage is the same as the rest of the village's - that tom consensually slept with merope, she told him she was pregnant, he "did the right thing" and married her, and he then discovered she was lying.

[he knows - of course - that she was pregnant, and he is convinced in his bones that the child will one day find and destroy him...]

tom's obvious post-traumatic stress disorder would undoubtedly have been enough to exempt him from conscription when the second world war broke out - although, of course, his medical unfitness wouldn't have been described in these terms.

and i think it's really interesting to consider how this would be received in the village - especially since the riddles would have gone out of their way to conceal his mental state from the public [hence their performance of the rituals of aristocratic life - including taking their dinner in full evening dress - even after he comes home a changed man]. i really like the idea of the general view being that - unlike the ordinary, hard-working men of little hangleton - tom managed to buy his way out of service [not only in the army but also on the home front], and that, to be quite honest, it was no wonder wounded war-hero frank bryce snapped and killed him.

which is a nice segue into the fact that frank bryce/tom riddle sr. is a concept i've recently become completely convinced by. frank staying in the riddle house after he's eliminated as a suspect in the riddles' deaths is something i find really quite moving - not only because of what it says about the disconnect between the historical memory many brits have of the war and the war's reality that a disabled veteran would find himself with nowhere else to go, but because it must indicate a genuine affection for the riddles which nobody else shared. the garden bringing some comfort to tom sr. on his worst days triggering a solemn, steadfast love for him in frank [requited or not] which endured past his death really compels me.

[and i also think that frank having some deeper connection with tom sr. - rather than just being his gardener - provides a more satisfactory explanation for why voldemort uses him as a horcrux murder than we get in canon. voldemort seeing - in his father's mind or frank's - that the two were entangled in some way would only increase his fury that tom sr. abandoned him and his mother...]

i'm also hugely convinced by the potential of shipping tom sr. with dumbledore. i don't particularly like stories in which voldemort is collected from the orphanage and raised by his father - firstly, because most of the things i find interesting about him are so heavily rooted in his orphanhood, and secondly, because i think that tom sr.'s move would be to place his son as the ward of someone he felt certain he could pay to keep quiet rather than bringing him up himself. but i can see dumbledore becoming aware of a magical child lurking in a london orphanage years earlier than in canon, having some sort of misguided belief that he should track down said child's family, turning up on the doorstep of the riddle house with a sinister toddler glowering in his arms, and insinuating himself into tom sr.'s life in a way which is either very funny or very dark.

cecilia is also an incidental character i'm unjustifiably obsessed with. i like her as tom's casual girlfriend in 1925 - with neither of them imagining for a second that the relationship will ever be serious - who then turns into the only friend from his glamorous set who remains in contact with him when he comes home.

and - i'm afraid to say - the plot-bunny of cecilia deciding to try and unravel the mystery of what's made tom so ill and scouring london orphanages until she discovers tom jr. has now bounced into my head... joining the other tom sr. fic i would pay cash to see, a rebecca-style caper where the second mrs riddle is haunted everywhere she goes by the spectre of merope...

[hyunjins-goddess]

CEO!Chris X FEM!Reader

I SEE RED.

(MY FIRST BANGCHAN FIC RAHHHHHH 🗣🗣🗣‼️‼️‼️‼️ BE NICE TO ME PLS. I'm so nervous about this one, literally shitting myself because idek if I like this, but this is one of my fantasies lolololol Feel free to like, comment, reblog, scream at me in my asks etc about the new album Skz are releasing, I'm so excited asdfghjkl. IF YOU ARE A MINOR, DO NOT READ, I REPEAT, DO NOT READ.)

It all started with a conversation that took place the other evening.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why communication is key in a relationship. So if we dislike something? Voice it. Crossed a boundary? Make yourself be heard. Hell, make this a habit even if you've only just met someone.

And when you voice something that you do like? Equally important. Let them know that they're doing something good. Doing what, I hear you ask? My sweet little reader, I'll leave that up to your most wildest fantasies in that fascinating mind of yours.

But I digress!

One evening, you and your fiancè were sat at the dinner table. Well, he had taken your hand and propped you onto his lap as you both ate your dinner. With him working such long hours, (being the CEO of a huge talent agency mind you!) his favourite way to wind down after a hard day was just to have you close to him. One of his favourite past times would be to lay in bed with you, and listen to you read to him. For all he cared, you could be reading the dictionary to him, he just loved hearing your voice and having you close to him.

You were his safety net and he was yours.

You'll never forget the day you had returned from work, it had been a particularly gruelling shift, as you walked through the door Chris had appeared in the doorway. Upon seeing him, you couldn't help but break into a huge smile, your shoulders feeling less tense as he removed your jacket for you. "Hello, my love." He whispered into your ear, strong arms wrapping around your middle making you sigh as you let his familiar, warm scent envelope you.

"Hey baby," You whispered back, letting your head fall back on his broad shoulder as his face had nuzzled into your neck.

He had proceeded to let you know that he had ran you a bath, knowing how stressful your day had been, and he had taken your hand leading you to the bathroom.

He had undressed you, making little comments that had made you blush and chuckle, causing him to launch his dimples at you. Chris gently helped you in the bath and started to wash your hair, massaging your scalp and silencing your loud thoughts.

He then undressed himself, laughing softly as you made some saucy comments back to him. Then, he held you from behind, pulling you close to him. Caressing your body, trailing his plump lips across your naked back, causing you to break out in the most pleasurable goosebumps not only at the feeling, but of such the intimate act itself.

It were these things that he did for you, that just made your heart soar. Just made you believe that God Himself, had crafted him just so that He could show you what true love is.

Back to this little conversation:

So you were happily sat upon Chris' lap, listening to him tell you about his day when suddenly he nonchalantly mentioned:

"You know, I think red is your colour."

"Oh?" You replied, slightly taken aback, "Where did that come from?" You laughed, which made him giggle.

"I don't know, I just- Seeing you in that red shirt you've got on now, it really emphasises your features. Brings out your hair, skin tone and eyes!"

Such an innocent, sweet comment but by God did you have some sort of epiphany. It's like it triggered a switch within you and you silently hatched a plan.

And so, here you are, in the back of a cab on the way to make a surprise visit to your fiancè at his office.

You had never done anything this risky before, the thought of what you were doing was causing you to break into perspiration. You could feel it gathering in the palm of your hands but you couldn't ignore the heat pooling in your lower stomach.

Before you knew it, the cab stopped. Your heart rate had risen significantly as you smoothed down your beige coloured, long trench coat. You inhaled, thanked the driver, and exhaled as you got out, Louboutin heels clicking across the tarmac in such an aesthetically pleasing fashion.

Who knew that shows could even sound that expensive?

You couldn't help but have to refrain from giggling as you got through the revolving door, chewing down on your bottom lip as you walked to the reception desk.

The lovely receptionist broke out into a beam as she recognised you straight away. "Miss Y/N! It's so good to see you, how are you?

You beamed back. "Hey you! I'm doing really well thank you, how about you? How are the kids?"

"Ahh we're all doing well thank you so much for asking, they keep me entertained!" She giggled. "I'll buzz you up to Mr Bahng's office!"

There goes your heart rate again. "Brilliant, thank you so much! We will have to catch up over coffee soon!" You genuinely promised as you made your way to the elevator.

"Sure thing, Miss Y/N!"

You couldn't help but smile, after all this time she was always so polite and insisted on formalities, despite your insisting on first names.

As you got closer to Chris' office, your breath got shaky. No time to be scared now, bad bitch mode activated.

You opened his door and felt your knees almost buckle at just how sexy he looked:

Crisp white shirt with two top buttons undone exposing his honey coloured skin and strong neck, sleeves rolled up accentuating his gorgeous arms. His black tie has been undone and loose around the collar of his shirt. His eyebrows had been furrowed in concentration, looking over reports on his computer but they raised as he beamed when he saw you. You swore his smile was like looking into the sun and you adored when his hair was swept from his face, it focused on his cheekbones and straight eyebrows, and you gushed at his masculine nose.

"Baby!" His rich coffee coloured eyes sparkled and you grinned at how they crinkled. "I'm so happy to see you!" He practically jumped out of his hair and bounded over to you. "Can I ask why you have graced this building with your presence?" He giggled as he pulled you into him, securing you in those magnificent arms of his.

You let yourself melt into his warmth, wrapping your arms around his neck, you deeply inhaled the scent of his neck. Of cinnamon, amber and vanilla. Of home.

"I just missed you." You replied, smiling, and to that he squeezed you. After a little bit you released yourself from him. "You forgot your dessert aswell."

His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you, you had to refrain from giggling as he tilted his head to the side in just the cutest way. "Dessert? I didn't forget it th-"

Oh but he was cut off. Because at that point you removed your trench coat and let it drop into a heap on the ground.

Revealing the sauciest, sexiest, most scandalous piece of lingerie you and I have ever seen:

At first glance it had the silhouette of a dress. It was a red lace push up bra with see through mesh, ending just at the top of your thigh. Through the mesh there was a matching red lace garter belt, suspenders attached to it making your thighs just look too delectable that Chris thought his knees were going to buckle. Just wait until he saw the g string.

Chris' pupils had blown out and his breathing hitched as his gaze ravaged upon, trailing you up and down. When he looked into your eyes, you felt your cheeks flush and you had to press your thighs together for friction as his tongue poked his cheek.

He walked closer to you, hands in his pockets, sexy smirk gracing his lips as you found yourself pressed up against the door. Oh his eyes were dark, they were almost black. And they were hooded. You could only describe it as the gaze of a predator on the prowl to its prey.

His hand reached over and slowly locked the door. He wasn't even touching you yet but the proximity caused you to let out a short breath and his smirk widened as his face got closer to yours. His mouth was so close to yours, you were breathing each other's air and you found your hips trying to rut up against his waist.

"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't tear this off of you right now and fuck you up against this door." Chris whispered, nose tracing against your jaw and touching your neck. It was taking every fibre of your being not to let out a whimper, but you fought on, gently pulled him by the back of his hair to make him look at you. You smirked:

"Because baby, this was expensive and you haven't even seen it up close-"

You didn't get the chance to finish your bratty reply as Chris had suddenly gripped the back of your thighs and lifted you up in the air, making your legs wrap around as what you called his "slutty little waist." You laughed but couldn't help yourself rutting against his stomach, lightly gasping at how the ridges of his abs rubbed against your heat.

Chris smirked darkly at you as he set you on his desk, he stood between your legs and caged you with his arms at your sides. "You really are acting like a bitch in heat aren't you? Made your way over here with your little bad-ass trench coat on, wearing the sluttiest outfit known to man. And now you decide to practically hump me but that's absolutely fine with me cause' you're my little bitch aren't you-" The way his voice had dropped an octave, dripping with pure condescension had your toes curling in your heels and you just couldn't take it anymore. You grabbed him by his collar kissing at his mouth savagely, making him smirk evilly into your mouth at how easy it was to rile you up. Moans and groans were spilling into each other's mouths, your tastes mixing together into the most dangerous concoction, call it a Molotov Cocktail if you will. You can't describe the feeling of having his lips on you, whether it was your lips or skin, it set you on fire. And you were always ready to be burned by him.

His hands were all over your body, gripping at your flesh and you almost ripped his shirt off, you were frantic at the need of feeling his skin on yours. You were lightheaded at the feeling if his hot skin against yours, it was like he was sizzling and his scent had you in a chokehold.

He looked so devastatingly sexy when he was turned on: Luscious plump lips swollen and pink with desire, honey toned skin with a pink hue, almost like a sunset cascading down his body. Dark, intense eyes glimmering at you, daring you to challenge him. "Dessert huh?" Chris purred as his hands balled into fists, gripping at your suspender straps, tugging at them to part your legs wider for him. "Allow me to dig in."

He feasted on your pussy, like the man had just walked through the depths of the desert and was having his first meal in weeks. Swirling his tongue across your heat, he would be damned if he missed a spot. After tasting you, he fixed his lips around your clit, sucking hard yet slow.

You couldn't keep still. Your back was arching, you were fighting yourself to keep as quiet as you could, hips canting on his face. Your nails dragged across his wooden oak desk, it was like you were marking your territory by having your own markings across his furniture.

But you were marking it with your essence too, also dripping onto his face.

"Shit!" You tried not to squeal out as he grabbed your calves, shoved your knees up onto your chest so he could allow himself more room to devour your pussy. You couldn't stop yourself from latching onto his hair, pulling at it. Neither you or he gave a shit if it hurt his scalp. It was like you were possessed and this demon who was making your body contort, was certainly the owner of you.

He sat back, eyeing up at you as he gathered your arousal and his spit on his fingers, then slowly entered his two fingers into you, automatically curling them into the spot that had you seeing God.

But the only God you worshipped was Chris.

He then rubbed at your clit and before you could say "S Class", you squirted. Hard.

Your essence was all over him: His face, soaked into his shirt, dripping down the desk.

While you were trying to control the shakes of your orgasm, to get your breath back, Chris calmed you by pressing his lips along your body again, mapping you out for the umpteenth time. He massaged at your skin and you managed to lift your head up, only to meet a mischievous grin of his.

"That was so much, babygirl. I don't know why I have so much whiskey in this cabinet, when I could just let your cum drip into a glass, nothing compares to the taste of your puss- oof!"

That cheeky, sexy motherfucker made you sit up, energy restored, and before you both knew it you kicked your heel fairly strongly into his chest, making him fall back into his office chair.

With his legs spread, dick straining against his pants, you straddled him and hurriedly rid him of his belt. You were to desperate to take his pants off you both were, so due to your previous orgasm you didn't need to prep, you grabbed his cock and slid yourself onto him.

Chris threw his head back, closing his eyes and moaned out at the feeling of your wetness pooling around his slit, and your walls engulfing him. "Ahh, shit!"

Your back arched and hips jolted as your overstimulated clit brushed up against pelvic bone, letting out a soft whimper at how full he made you feel. "Be quiet Daddy, don't want anyone hearing you slacking on your work now do you?" You teased as you gripped onto him, slowly rolling your hips up and down, making him groan oh so sexily.

He glared up at you, jaw clenching as he gripped at your lingerie, nearly ripping it. "You think I give a shit? This is MY company, MY building, MY office. If anything, if you like, they can gather round in here and watch, let them get a briefing on how they SHOULD fuck their partners." Oh you clenched at how unhinged he was being with his words and how he was fucking up into you now. You moaned when he tugged you by your hair and bit down on your neck.

"Or, ya know, I could always shove my tie into your mouth to make you shut up if you're feeling too shy at the moment," He smirked into your skin as he smacked your ass.

"Oh fuck you!" You moaned out and dug your nails into his skin, scratching him cause him to hiss in pure pleasure.

"Oh but I am babe, I AM fucking you and I know you're about to cum with how much your pussy is clenching at me. Give me another one huh? Cum for your husband."

That did it. To stop yourself from screaming out, you sank your teeth into his neck as you came around his dick. At the feeling of your teeth breaking his skin and your pussy pulsating around him, Chris pulled at your body tight to his as his thick cum squirted into you with a deep groan of your name.

You both held onto each other, breathing heavily as you calmed each other down. He softly kissed at the marks he made on your skin, squeezing you as if to apologise if he went too far. You ran your fingers through his dark locks, cradling his head to your body as you whispered "I love you's" into each other's skin.

Chris looked up at you lovingly as he rubbed your body. "So...what colour are you gonna go for next? Cause this red on you nearly made me call for an ambulance, black, I'm going into cardiac arrest."

And that's that guys, let me know what you think! Thank you so so much for reading, I really hope you are well and taking care of yourself!! ✨️🩷✨️🩷

[morganafayes]

i want to talk about the dark tower (5.06) because it is SUCH a frustrating episode for multiple reasons. it’s unique in that it’s one of the only morgana/gwen centric episodes in the entire series - and yet it ends up becoming a detriment to both of their characters’ development. this episode sucks not just because of the evil gwen plotline (which was terrible yes. we love the writers just removing her autonomy over and over again for no reason!) which resulted from it but also because the lost potential of it all - when this setup could have been easily used to create some of the most interesting plot lines for gwen (and morgana) in s5

like. sorry to say but would it be that impossible or insane for gwen to actually sympathise to some degree with morgana here without magical brainwashing. to me its not! the thing about gwen is that she's a morally driven character first and foremost. one of the main reasons she falls in love with arthur is because crucially, she sees him as a good person. she loves him for the values that she believes he upholds and his desire to do justice. it was same with lancelot - it's emphasised that she liked him because he's honourable and good. we also see that she values her morality and doing the right thing above her own emotions at times (re: her not wishing for uther's death even after he killed her father).

with that in mind, would it be that insane for her entire perspective on arthur and merlin (AND magic) to change because of morgana? firstly, gwen never finds out that merlin poisoned morgana. this is very important to me.... because although yes he didn't 'have a choice' (im not gonna get into all of that but i understand both sides of the argument. whatever) he still did something wrong. like. killing 1 or 10 people in the trolley problem still makes u a murderer. she has every right to hate him. he objectively betrayed her and took advantage of her trust. i feel as if gwen would sympathise with morgana and at the very least this would affect her opinion towards merlin to some degree, and make her realise he's hiding things (because she, like arthur, doesn't know half the shit he gets up to and does! she even less than him!). furthermore (and more importantly) i can absolutely see gwen sympathising with morgana against arthur to some degree too. like yes he's her husband but AGAIN she's someone who always puts her principles first and objectively arthur is upholding his father's legacy by continuing the oppression of magic users. he is textually an oppressor. in 5.13 its clear gwen doesnt fully distrust or hate magic from her conversation with gaius (although she might be suspicious of it considering her past experiences) so she would probably be very sympathetic and understanding if morgana were to explain to her what it was like to be a magic user under uther's reign. how demonised and oppressed they truly were and continue to be. like. she would absolutely still criticise and call morgana out for hurting innocent people but ultimately morgana's cause (despite it being not really true to what it claims to be) would be sympathetic. at the very least she would see that arthur is wrong, even somewhat, for continuing to uphold his father's legacy. especially because (as the writers seemed to forget for some reason.) of her extremely complicated relationship with uther in the past, considering he almost had her killed more than once and did in fact murder her father because of his obsession with banning magic. and now her husband is doing the same thing.

no of course gwen would not side with morgana at this point in the story. but she would understand her and sympathise and it would create such an interesting moment of character growth/conflict. it would make her question her marriage, the things she THOUGHT arthur and camelot stood for and whether those things are really true. it would make her doubt merlin's character and realise he's hiding so much more than she thought. it might make her distrust him or demand the truth. it might make her wonder what SHE wants to do as queen, as a ruler in her own right, especially if she starts to have ideological disagreements with her husband. there's literally so much that could have been done with her in s5 as fallout from just this one episode and they did the most boring thing ever and made it suck so bad. bbc merlin writers ur not seeing the pearly gates

[colleybri]

Andor and Rogue One: Sacrificing love and sacrificing for love

I often contemplate Luthen’s monologue from Andor episode 10: the full meanings and implications of what he has sacrificed. The clues to what his backstory might be and how his future might unfold. Perhaps the most intriguing item on his list of what he has given up is ‘love’. The difficulty of analysing this one is that the word has so many different meanings, and once again I’m rueful that in English we didn’t keep the Ancient Greek tradition of having different words for the many different types of love that we can experience. There are separate words for romantic/sexual love, the love between parents and children, between siblings and between good friends. There’s love in the sense of a strong liking (as in “I love chocolate”) and the love that develops over time in a relationship that needs a lot of work (as in an arranged marriage).

Luthen might mean one or all of these, but he might well also mean a very specific type of love: the one often called ‘universal and unconditional love’. The Greek word is Agape, (pronounced Ah-ga-pay). It’s the selfless love felt for humanity as a whole, and is that behind the willingness to do anything for someone without expecting something in return. It’s the biggest question Luthen will have to face. Is he ready and willing to die for the cause - and if so, will this kind of love be the motive? The problem is that in doing what he feels he needs to do for the greater good he thinks he is ‘damned’ as his actions are anything but loving, at least on the surface. He threatens babies, sacrifices innocents and plans to kill a man at his mother’s funeral. Perhaps he is a long way from ‘agape’.

Cassian is a little easier to track as we have at least the start and end of his story - Season 2 will fill in the remaining gap. The excellent Rogue One novelisation makes explicit that within the film Cassian has an epiphany and it’s made really clear in the extract below, which is from just after where he and the others volunteer to go with Jyn to Scarif (knowing full well the huge personal risk involved).

The novel earlier emphasised the ‘need’ in Jyn’s eyes, which is ultimately linked to her love (denied at first) for her father and her faith in his message about the Death Star. Cassian couldn’t go ahead with killing Galen and it’s interesting that here he now shares that ‘need’ to act: ‘He tried to imagine executing another coldly elegant mission for Draven and finding nourishment in the stale, momentary thrills of danger and triumph… He couldn’t survive that way anymore. …Jyn was changing. And through her, he would do what was required of him. They all would”. Interesting choice of words: ‘Coldly’.. ‘stale’. This will be the Cassian of the end of Andor season 2… Needing to find his fire again. It’s no doubt why we will want to watch the film again immediately afterwards, as Diego Luna has been urging us to do. I think we’ll need the ‘redemption’ part of the story.

With apologies to some of my Cassian x Jyn loving friends ;), this for me is the main canon ‘love story’ in Rogue One. Putting faith in Jyn’s own faith in her father’s message is for Cassian a kind of re-dedication to the cause - a renewal, perhaps, of something like the ‘vow’ that Luthen speaks of. But the motive this time seems to be something positive. In his monologue Cassian speaks of all the awful things he’s done on behalf of the Rebellion. Walking away now, as the Alliance wants to do, would be unthinkable. Making the ultimate sacrifice eventually becomes the only ‘choice’ left but I think it’s so important that Cassian makes it with a clear head and for the right reasons. It’s why I think that any heavy personal losses that Cassian might experience in S2 won’t come in the final arc, which takes place in the days just before the film - I don’t think Tony Gilroy would want us to think that Cassian is acting from any sense of ‘Oh well, my life is so shitty I might as well do this as I haven’t anything else to live for!’ That wouldn’t even be a sacrifice, which means giving up something you value. Instead, Gilroy explicitly says of Cassian that he is “someone who will consciously, open-heartedly sacrifice himself for the greater good”. In other words, he has a clear mind and is doing this for the ‘right’ reason. And the reason is love, I think - and in the ‘agape’ sense. In other words it’s not for love of Jyn or even love of himself (although I think he is genuinely and justly respectful and proud of himself when he dies) but for love of all those theoretical billions of strangers who might possibly be saved because of their sending the Death Star plans.

Cassian, Jyn and the rest of the Rogue One team make the final sacrifice for love. Unconditional love of strangers. The most selfless act of all. It makes me cry every time I rewatch, but the beach scene is a perfect visual representation. Cassian and Jyn are united in a platonic hug, comforting and literally supporting each other. No doubt thinking about all the loves and losses they have experienced in their mirror-imaged traumatic lives, war-torn from such an early age. They don’t want to die but are accepting of their approaching doom and the knowledge that in doing this they have helped each other to rediscover purpose and hope. They have “tried” as Nemik would put it. And finally, being swallowed up in bright transcendental light - recalling the sunrise Luthen knew he’d ‘never see’. Imagery of death but also of hope for ‘someone else’s future’, their sacrifice being the most selfless love of all.

So you can absolutely see the ending of Rogue One and the ending of Cassian’s story as hopeful, transcendental and inspirational as in that sense he is indeed ‘messianic’ as Tony Gilroy has described him. Not because he is a religious chosen one or a mystical figure - he’s an ordinary average man, who started out as a ‘loser.. .a nobody…’ who has done something extraordinary, for love. It’s a fully secular spiritual journey but no less powerful for that. His bible, as it were, has been Nemik’s manifesto.

As for Luthen himself… his fate is unclear. I’m not sure what might be coming for him, but I hope it does the character justice. Perhaps he will get some kind of glimpse of sunrise or perhaps his ending will - in contrast to Cassian’s - be in a totally sunless space.

“Tell him he knows everything he needs to know and feels everything he needs to feel, and when the day comes and those two pull together he will be an unstoppable force for good.”

[howtomuslim]

The Completeness of Islam: A Multifaceted Way of Life

Islam is a comprehensive way of life that encompasses all aspects of human existence. From mental health to nature, spirituality, the economy, politics, manners, and family care. Islam’s multifaceted nature and its relevance provides profound guidance and wisdom to Muslims.

Spirituality

Spirituality is at the heart of Islam. The Quran and Hadith provide extensive guidance on developing a deep, personal relationship with Allah.

“Indeed, in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest” (Quran 13:28)

Central to Islamic spirituality is the practice of the five daily prayers (Salah). These prayers are not merely rituals but profound acts of worship that strengthen the connection between the believer and Allah. Praying five times a day at prescribed times creates a rhythm of devotion, reminding Muslims of their purpose and aligning their lives with divine guidance. 

“The closest a person is to His Lord is when he is in prostration” (Sahih Muslim).

“The similitude of one who remembers his Lord and one who does not remember Him, is like that of the living and the dead” (Sahih al-Bukhari).

Mental Health

Islam recognises the importance of mental health and provides guidance on maintaining psychological well-being. The Quran emphasises patience and reliance on Allah during times of distress: 

“Verily, with hardship comes ease” (Quran 94:6).

The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) also encouraged seeking help and making dua (supplication) for mental relief:  “There is no disease that Allah has created, except that He also has created its treatment” (Sahih al-Bukhari).

Nature

Islam teaches a deep respect for nature and the environment. The Quran frequently references the signs of Allah in the natural world: 

“And He is the One Who spread out the earth and placed firm mountains and rivers upon it, and created fruits of every kind in pairs. He covers the day with night. Surely in this are signs for those who reflect.” (Quran 13:3).

The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) highlights the importance of caring for the environment: 

“If a Muslim plants a tree or sows seeds, and then a bird, or a person, or an animal eats from it, it is regarded as a charitable gift (Sadaqah) for him” (Sahih al-Bukhari).

Economy

Islamic economic principles promote justice, fairness, and welfare. The prohibition of usury (interest), in order to prevent the extortion of others and for the rich to get richer and the poor to get poorer, is one example: 

“Allah has permitted trade and has forbidden interest” (Quran 2:275).

Zakat (a wealth tax given to charity) is another pillar of Islam, aimed at redistributing wealth to those in need:  “And establish prayer and give Zakat, and whatever good you put forward for yourselves — you will find it with Allah”(Quran 2:110).

Politics & Justice

Islamic governance is based on justice and the welfare of the people. The Quran states: 

“O you who have believed, be persistently standing firm in justice, witnesses for Allah, even if it be against yourselves or parents and relatives” (Quran 4:135)

The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) provided an example of leadership based on compassion and justice:

 “The best of rulers are those whom you love and who love you, who pray for you and you pray for them” (Sahih Muslim)

Manners

Islam places great emphasis on good manners and etiquette. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said, 

“The best among you are those who have the best manners and character” (Sahih al-Bukhari).

The Quran instructs believers to speak kindly and avoid harsh words:  “Worship none but Allah; be kind to parents, relatives, orphans and the needy; speak kindly to people; establish prayer; and pay Zakat”* (Quran 2:83).

Family Care

Family is the cornerstone of Islamic society. The Quran and Hadith provide detailed guidance on maintaining family bonds and treating family members with kindness and respect.

 “And We have commanded people to ˹honour˺ their parents. Their mothers bore them through hardship upon hardship, and their weaning takes two years. So be grateful to Me and your parents. To Me is the final return.”* (Quran 31:14)

“The best of you are those who are best to their families, and I am the best among you to my family” (Sunan Ibn Majah).

Education

Education is highly valued in Islam, both for men and women. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said,  “Seeking knowledge is an obligation upon every Muslim” (Sunan Ibn Majah).

The Quran encourages the pursuit of knowledge, in fact, the first words revealed from the Quran was:

“Read in the name of your Lord who created” (Quran 96:1)

These verses among others were the fuel to the fantastic strides achieved by Muslims in the past in the field of science, astronomy, mathematics, medicine and much more, and continue to provide inspiration for Muslims today. 

Social Justice

Social justice is a fundamental aspect of Islam. The Quran advocates for the rights of the oppressed and marginalised: 

“O believers! Stand firm for Allah and bear true testimony. Do not let the hatred of a people lead you to injustice. Be just! That is closer to righteousness. And be mindful of Allah. Surely Allah is All-Aware of what you do.” (Quran 5:8)

Health and Hygiene

Islam emphasises health and hygiene, recognising them as vital components of a healthy life. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said, “Cleanliness is half of faith” (Sahih Muslim).

The Quran also highlights the importance of consuming lawful and pure food: 

“O you who have believed, eat from the good things which We have provided for you and be grateful to Allah if it is [indeed] Him that you worship” (Quran 2:172)

Charity and Community Support

Charity is not only encouraged but mandated in Islam (except those in need of it). Zakat (obligatory charity) and Sadaqah (voluntary charity) are means to support those in need and promote social welfare:  “The example of those who spend their wealth in the cause of Allah is that of a grain that sprouts into seven ears, each bearing one hundred grains. And Allah multiplies ˹the reward even more˺ to whoever He wills. For Allah is All-Bountiful, All-Knowing.” (Quran 2:261).

The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said,  “The believer’s shade on the Day of Resurrection will be his charity” (Tirmidhi).

The completeness of Islam is evident in its comprehensive guidance covering all facets of life. From promoting mental health and environmental care to fostering spirituality, economic justice, political integrity, good manners, strong family bonds, the pursuit of education, social justice, health and hygiene, charitable deeds and much more. Islam offers a holistic approach to living a balanced and fulfilling life. Its teachings are timeless and applicable to everyone of us.

To learn more about Islam visit our website: howtomuslim.org

[munchkinmarauder]

So I'm reading What If Wanda Maximoff and Peter Parker were siblings and I find myself disappointed- this book is probably just not for me. Shame I really wanted to like it and I recognise the landmark significance of having a writer of Roma decent finally write Wanda. It's a wonderful thing and I hope it opens more doors for the writer and for Roma and other minority creators to write minority characters. However, reading this I have mixed feelings. I've got some thoughts under the cut (spoilers).

I'll give this book a 4/10 but it's treatment of Pietro and other non American characters has left a bitter taste in my mouth. I'm a massive Pietro fan and a fan of both twins so I may be biased. I hope others can get more out of this book than me. It definitely has it's good points that I can see winning it some fans.

Let's just say this is a YA book that reads very YA. I can definitely see the appeal for fans, especially of Spiderman. Wanda is the main character though little of her lore gets used and her relationships are destroyed. The author does make a genuine and really nice effort to respect and call focus to Wanda's heritage and the disconnect of being an American adoptee.and there are some nice mentions of Django but it all gets undercut by the author harping on about how wonderful Aunt May is for introducing Wanda to him.

I do encourage people to pick this book up and form their own opinions. If you are a fan of the MCU and Spiderman comics you'll probably walk away happy and have mixed feelings as a comic Wanda fan (Quicksilver fans and fans of the twins relationship just save yourself the trouble and not read this book trust me!). Maybe wait till it's cheaper though as it's a lot of money to spend on something you might not like - I'm planning on returning or donating my copy because I walked away feeling cheated.

The book however is very American and Wanda is emphasised to be American. The American characters are largely good and the foreigners with foreign accents largely bad. Other Romani characters are either cameos or evil. If your a fan of Pietro and the twins relationship just don't pick this up.

Basically as long as Wanda has a brother with a similar name to Pietro she'll be fine, her bond with her twin can just be superimposed onto other characters. It negates the importance of one of the most important sibling relationships in comics and reads like Magneto's letter to the twins in Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver (except where the reader believes that Orlando meant for Magneto to be unironically right). It feels a little dirty and like it's there to serve Peter Parker and give him a win rather than Wanda. Anything meaningful that could have been said about the twins relationship is instead given to Peter.

Making Pietro a one dimensional evil twin was a very boaring and very overdone take. Writers love to make Pietro evil despite the characters history and it never has been done well (as has the evil twin trope in general) and has always been immediately walked back in the comics for a reason.

And while I definitely don't think the author intended it this way, having Wanda have zero interest (Pietro is treated terribly by his sister, the other characters and the narrative from the second he appears or is mentioned) and reject her "evil foreign" family in favour of her "wonderful white American" family has some unfortunate implications.

Wanda also rarely accomplishes anything for herself. The 616 Wanda learns magic on her own, immigrates to America with her brother, builds her own community and reclaims a racist name thrown at her. She works hard and everything she accomplished was her own. In this book everything she accomplishes is because of Peter, Ben and May - they find her a Romani community, she doesn't seem it out on her own, they take her to strange who is souly responsible for teaching her magic and tells her everything she needs to do. Wanda is super passive in this book.

No hate to the writer though. I do think their talented and they have acknowledged they know people will be unhappy with some of the takes in the book. I respect what they've created even if I don't personally like it.

https://x.com/MunchkinM17/status/1828490359682298342

[indigo-scarf]

“This is Crabbe and this is Goyle”: friends on last name basis?

How characters refer to one another is important in the Harry Potter books. The most blatant case for this is the main antagonist: Tom Riddle calls himself “Voldemort” to reflect his ambitions; his followers call him the “Dark Lord” out of reverence; the general wizarding population calls him “You-Know-Who” out of fear; Harry learns to call him “Voldemort” out of bravery; and Dumbledore keeps calling him “Tom” to dismiss his pretensions of grandeur.

Other examples include Lupin calling students by their first names because he’s the cool teacher; Lupin calling Snape “Severus” to be petty, while Snape calls Lupin “Lupin” to be petty; Draco calling his dad “Father” because he’s so posh; and of course, “Malfoy” and “Potter” highlighting the animosity between Draco and Harry.

In this context, the fact that Draco and the other Slytherin boys always call one another by their surnames serves to illustrate the kind of relationship they have, and to emphasise its contrast with Light Side friendships — an opposition integral to the story and especially to Draco’s character.

When Draco offers Harry his friendship, he introduces his colleagues and himself by their last names:

“Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle,” said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. “And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.” (PS6)

This shows that even when Draco hopes he and Harry will have a good relationship, Harry is expected to call them “Malfoy”, “Crabbe” and “Goyle”. That is how Draco addresses his closest people (and reciprocity seems implicit):

“Crabbe,” [Malfoy] said. “Midnight all right? Well meet you in the trophy room; that’s always unlocked.” (PS9) “ — and he hit Goyle — look — ” (GF18) “I thought so,” [Malfoy] said jubilantly. “I heard Goyle’s trunk hit you.” (HBP7) “I would’ve had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn’t put them in detention!” (HBP15)

Even when they think they have privacy, the Slytherin boys stay on last name basis:

“You know I haven’t, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?” snapped Malfoy. (CS12) “Azkaban — the wizard prison, Goyle,” said Malfoy, looking at him in disbelief. “Honestly, if you were any slower, you’d be going backward.” (CS12) “So, Zabini,” said Malfoy, “what did Slughorn want?” (HBP7) “I wouldn’t bank on an invitation,” said Zabini. “He asked me about Nott’s father when I first arrived.” (HBP7) “Look, it’s none of your business what I’m doing, Crabbe, you and Goyle just do as you’re told and keep a lookout!” (HBP18)

And even in the most vulnerable moment in Draco and Crabbe’s relationship, when Draco is in shock over Crabbe’s death, it’s still:

“C-Crabbe,” choked Malfoy as soon as he could speak. “C-Crabbe...” (DH31)

Such choice of surnames over first names adds to the portrayal of Slytherin as a stand-in for British public schools (where even true friends might avoid first names), but specifically in the Harry Potter world, it also reflects a particularly cold dynamic.

It is established throughout the books that Slytherins are are allies at best, not friends. There are two scenes that tell us how Slytherins operate in their natural habitat, when they don’t know Harry is spying on them, and neither is warm at all.

In year two, Hermione says Crabbe and Goyle are “Malfoy’s best friends” (CS12), which suggests she assumes they have a relationship not unlike the Trio’s — but that assumption is raised only to be subverted.

When Harry and Ron are disguised as Crabbe and Goyle, they find out that Draco constantly insults them, “snaps” at them, and demands specific reactions to what he says (CS12). 

In year six, in the Slytherin train compartment, Draco and Blaise compete to out-haughty each other, and “Goyle and Zabini were snarling at each other” (HBP7).

They don’t befriend people they like; they associate with people who come from pure bloodlines, or who can offer some kind of advantage. They see the world in terms of hierarchies, and surnames label people according to their social standing — which is what defines how they should be treated.

On the flipside, while surnames are a marker of prestige, first names are a tool of humiliation. This is the only time in all seven books when one is used among Slytherin boys:

“‘Must mean’?” Crabbe turned on Malfoy with undisguised ferocity. “Who cares what you think? I don’t take your orders no more, Draco. You an’ your dad are finished.” (DH31)

The power of the “Malfoy” name was the reason Crabbe kept Draco company. Now that that power is gone, he’s just some guy called “Draco”, so Crabbe drops him.

Growing up in such a cold environment is an essential part of what defines Draco’s character: it shapes his personality, his relationship with Harry, and his role in the story.

Draco has never had connections based on anything other than boasting to elevate himself and being spiteful to diminish others — and that’s what leads to Harry’s initial dislike of Draco at Madam Malkin’s, as well as the pivotal handshake blunder.

After that, a huge contributing factor to Draco and Harry’s unshakable animosity is Draco’s envy of the Trio. Not only does Draco hate being rejected in favour of Ron and Hermione, but he also resents that he can’t have what they have.

If Draco had real, first name basis friendships, he probably wouldn’t dedicate his entire school life to being a hateful bully, and he might not be so desperate for truly fulfilling validation as to seek it from Voldemort.

[nso-csi]

231103 NME interview

Taemin on ‘Guilty’: “I think it’s more attractive to make the negative look beautiful”

“I like to separate the personas. It’s like actors, who separate the person and the character”

“On that vague border between good and bad / You played the fool for me,” Taemin whispers on his newest single, ‘Guilty’. In the music video, faceless hands grab his neck, rearrange his body, control him in a suffocating atmosphere. But don’t be mistaken – he’s the one playing here. It’s his own hand who snakes underneath his shirt, shutting him up as he proclaims, “You got me G-U-I-L-T-Y.”

Which brings us to Taemin’s definition of love: “There’s different forms. There is love that you receive from your parents, the love from your girlfriend or boyfriend, and the love from fans. But there’s always a sacrifice, and pushing someone to sacrifice is also love.” Admitting to the shadow side of love, the side that no one wants or expects, is a wisdom that he acquired with time. “There are a lot of things I gain from being a singer but, at the same time, there are lots of things I have to give up, and these are the ones I emphasised in this single.”

 “I learned to be careful to trust someone, because it really hurts when someone suddenly disappoints you,” he says. “It’s very important in relationships to be careful about what you talk and what you do.”

“I like to separate the personas. It’s like actors, who separate the person and the character,” he explains. “Off stage, I think I’m more playful and simpler, like a little kid.”

While reminiscing about this dichotomy, he goes as far as to compare his life to the 1998 satirical drama The Truman Show. “In the movie, Jim Carey realises that everyone has been watching him at the end. I came to SM [Entertainment] when I was 12 years old, and the period of time when I was training, my debut, all the moments where I was growing up were shared and seen by a lot of people, so I relate to that,” he explains.

“Like when you’re writing a journal, I find that I’m able to organise what I learned and what I think through the albums that I release”

“It covers a lot of topics about breaking taboos, and I thought about how this can reflect on my music and the perspective I put into it. For example, showing skin is still a taboo, so when a male performer rips their shirt and the crowd goes wild, I wanted to understand and incorporate the concept of breaking that taboo.”

“I have a very different lifestyle than most people, and I realised that, because of my career, I receive a lot of love and support. I knew it in my head, but now I feel it in my skin. Many people my age are still finding their way, so I feel very fortunate to have found out what I love to do,” he adds.

source

[secretlywritingstories]

Ten years passes faster than you realise. I started watching YouTube properly from summer of 2013 and one of the very first YouTubers I found was Connor Franta. Then 1,5 years later, he came out as gay. That's exactly ten years ago today.

He made a video to remark on that decade past where he talked about how he hardly recognised himself in his old videos. And emphasised how much he appreciated being gay because of the perspective that it gives him.

Connor was arguably my first YouTuber "crush" because I thought that he was cute and funny and I found his videos drawing me in. He sparked my interest for the whole vlogger thing, which lead me to following a whole hoard of vloggers pretty consistently from 2013-2018.

I didn't know that he was gay when I first started watching. I didn't know I was queer when I started watching him (which is the important part). Throughout 2014, I started to wonder if he might be gay, but I still remember the elated feeling in my chest when the coming out video hit my inbox.

It fit, for the lack of a better world. A filter flicked off as he addressed us. It felt right. Even as he'd made himself into being this boy next door who talked about relationship stuff and girls a lot. And his content has changed a lot in the following decade, but it also didn't. I still watch all his videos because I enjoy his perspective. If anything, I enjoy it so much more because he's also queer.

Him reflecting on that time in his life, a decade ago when he decided to upload that coming out video, without knowing the ripple effects it could cause for him and his audience, pulled me right into self-reflection alongside him.

I watched the coming out video ten years younger, still merely believing myself an ally to the LBGTQ+ community. I was about halfway through my bachelor and I had no idea what I wanted to do. I had only just started posting fic on Wattpad mere months before.

And now I'm here and queer. Having gone through micro labels that helped me feel belonging, only to mostly embrace umbrella terms now. Gender as funky as my sexuality. I've finished my masters five years ago and I've been working at my current job for 3,5 years. I've got a decade of fics under my belt and nearly 200 works and 4 million words to show for it.

I still don't know what the fuck I'm doing with my life but I'm embracing all of the good things in it. My family, my friends (many that I've made through getting into YouTubers and subsequently Dan and Phil), my pets, my interests and my writing.

And there's still so much life ahead of me. I'm not someone to think 5 or 10 years ahead because that's frankly terrifying as fuck, but looking back gives me hope for the future. And I'm thankful I've always let myself dive nose-first into my interests because they've always brought so much love. I can't imagine what my life would be like without discovering those early Connor Franta videos and all the domino effect that's followed since then.

I didn't know either of us was gay when I found him, but maybe life works in strange ways. Maybe my queer heart resonated with his gay one. I'm proud of him. I'm proud of me. And while I don't like looking too closely to the future, I shall still leave this: May the next decade be kind to both of us!