#and there is no nice way to say “society caters to you. it needs to stop catering only to you”

[santacoppelia]

Of fandom, age, and David Tennant being our own personal Time Lord

I read the fantastic post that @davidtennantgenderenvy wrote about David Tennant and aging (if you haven’t yet read it, go for it!) and, as a fan who is closer to DT's age range than to what seems to be the rest of the fan base's age (yeah, being well over 40 is A THING), I had an interesting mix of ideas and emotions. I was going to just reblog her post with some of these musings, but when this started getting longer (and I started searching for bibliography, ha), I decided that I was not going to hijack her post, but rather cite it (and reblog it on its own right, really, read it). I should say that this is a long essay, and it comes peppered with references to one of my preferred fields of study (but I make it light and fun, promise).

Becoming an “old geek”

The first time I came into the idea was when I found a thirst TikTok with that very nice audio that goes “I think I need someone older…” and clearly, the thirst was there, but also… David is 8 years older than me, and when you are 45, thirsting over someone who is 53 doesn’t feel as “edgy” (and thinking about “needing someone older” starts verging on thirsting over people well over 65, which is absolutely fine, but a very different category over all for the rest of TikTok). So yeah, it was weird. You see someone who you feel is "in your range" and everyone is calling them "old"… And you start thinking about aging, inevitably.

Of course, I "don't feel old", but most of my friends are younger than me, and I'm the oldest person in many of my "fun activities". Take, for example, my lightsaber combat team, where every sponsorship is pitched to people under 30, and you should be training at least twice a week and following a strict diet to reach the expected “competitive or exhibition” level (enter the “old lady” who is taking this training just for fun, who needs to take care of her joints and who is not going to be invested in becoming Jedi Master General or anything of the sorts in the near future). Or we can talk about the expectation about fandom in general being a “teenage phase”, and thinking about everyone who still is into it actively after certain age as “immature” or “quirky” at best (hi, mom! Hi, work colleagues! Hi, students!).

Society, aging and social constructs

Of course, this has a lot to do with societal expectations. For almost 80 years, popular culture has been built around "youth" and "young people": before rock & roll, most things (music, clothes, movies, art in general) were targeted to “adults”, and you were expected to be “a functional adult” since a younger age. There was a seismic shift in the way popular culture was built when consumer culture decided to see and cater young people: trends became shorter, being “hip” was desirable, staying younger for a longer period was a nice aspiration (a good, light reading to get a deeper view around this is “Hit Makers” by Derek Thompson. It is written for marketers, but that makes it an easy historic overview and I like that). This has a lot to do with the change of our view about old people, too: while being old 100 years ago (yup, 1924 still fits the bill) made you “a respected elder” and you were expected to be wise, to know best, to be the voice of reason and an expert, nowadays not even us older people like being seen as “old” or “older”.

Frequently, culture becomes entrenched in binary oppositions. The binary opposition between “young” and “old” is… well, old! And while the opposition is sustained, the meanings around it change over time (that’s what the past paragraph was about, really). If in the 1940’s being old meant “mature, respectable, wise, responsible” and being young meant “inexperienced, immature, foolish”, after the 1950’s those meanings shifted a lot: being young became “fun, interesting, in the now and in the know, attractive”, while being old was about being “boring, dusty, passé, uninteresting, dull”.

In reality, being young can be a mix of all of these things (inexperienced and fun and foolish and attractive), and being old can be, at the same time, being responsible and wise and a little dusty and dull, because that’s life *shrugs*, and the wonder of lived experience is that, even if we simplify it, it is complex and rich and sometimes contradictory in itself: we can be old and foolish and interesting and boring, or young and dull and inexperienced and attractive. But, as we need to make “social sense” of things, simplifying them is… easier. That’s why we build stereotypes, and why we use them! We need to have a “base” of signifiers to build upon, so we usually take what we have on our environment and run with it. If you find this idea interesting, welcome to the world of cultural semiotics! *takes her Iuri Lotman picture out of her pocket and puts it on the desk*

(Iuri Lotman, people. He is my "patron saint").

Pop culture versus “real culture”

Another cultural opposition that piques my interest in this area is the notion of “pop culture”, of course. It is opposed to “real, serious culture”, the sort of thing that everyone expects "older, mature people" to enjoy. In the sixties and seventies, there were a lot of studies and writing about "high brow" and "low brow" culture, trying to keep this distinction between "things that make you familiar with the now, but have no intrinsic value" and "eternal things that cultivate your mind, soul and spirit".

Evidently, if you ask me, this is a whole load of horse manure: probably useful to fertilize other things, but with little intrinsic value on its own. My main point is not dolphins, but the idea of culture: historically, it has used to mean a lot of things; from the notion of (exactly) fertilizing something and making it grow to make it come to fruition, to the hodgepodge of practices that a social group creates when they are together and are trying to make common sense of things.

I like the latter better (that is the one I’d ascribe to if this was The Academia TM, but this is tumblr!), but another popular definition, which comes from the Illustration and has been quite prevalent, is the notion of culture as the set of cultural practices that make you a better, more intelligent, far more educated person. For example: if you want to have real culture, you have to read Shakespeare and know what a iambic pentameter is, rather than watching “10 Things I Hate About You”. You must read real books, not listen to audiobooks, and “real books” should be written by “serious authors” like (insert old white Western European or American cis men, preferably born before 1960).

Here comes the notion of “cultural canon”, grinning widely. Yup, that set of practices becomes an expectation of what and how you should experience any area of the human experience, and they become a sort of “nucleus” of the whole experience, with people playing “defense” around them and culture shifting all around and sometimes across them. This is not exclusive to “high culture”: Have you ever heard about “gatekeeping”? Yeah, same fenomenomenon (Shadwell, of course). Whenever something gets this “shape”, it becomes a “norm”, the “common” thing, the “rule” if you participate in that set of cultural practices.

As every cultural set of practices tends to generate its own “canon”, they also have a lot of practices surrounding it, which are ever changing, shifting, learning from new and old practices, and redefining what everything means in their common/shared space. For example: Neil Gaiman, my beloved, was part of the “comics” frontier when Sandman first appeared, but as he and Alan Moore (yeah, I know he did it first, but Gaiman is my study focus right now, so let me be) and other very talented and interesting people started creating fascinating stuff that hadn’t been done, and they found people who loved it, they not only redefined the world of comics, but became part of the new canon themselves. And then, Neil’s presence in the world of literature and fantasy became widespread and recognized and then revered… And then he is doing it again by adapting his own work to a streaming platform in a serialized way… I hope this explains why I’m growing an obsession with studying Neil Gaiman as an author who crosses through different media: a transmedial auteur, an anomaly in his own right. But that is not an essay for tumblr, but a thesis, one that I don’t know if I’d ever have the time or mental resources to write (being a runaway ex academic with ADHD who works on their own is hard, people). Besides, this was about aging and David Tennant, so let’s cut this tangent short and start talking about our Time Lord and Savior: David Tennant, the king of frontiers.

David Tennant as a Frontier Lord

David Tennant is another fascinating case in this sense, mostly because he is an actor who has been able to build a whole very impressive career through crossing symbolic frontiers. Through his massive filmography (161 roles just for screens, as registered in IMDb) and his stage career (I love this gifset for this exact reason), he has acted his way through almost everything, from classical Shakespeare to improvisational comedy, from procedural police drama to wacky fantasy sci-fi. This has a lot to do with his personality (he loves acting, he decided to pursue acting as a career thanks to his love for Doctor Who, but he is also smart and inquisitive) but, as it happens with a lot of “frontier figures”, it also has a lot to do with “unpredictable” circumstances: less of a strategy, more of an instinct.

David has talked many times about how his impostor syndrome made him feel, for the longest time, that he had to keep accepting roles, because you never know if there is going to be another one after. He is talented and open and curious (this is quite a good interview about his perspective), but this… anxiety? meant that he had also lower quandaries about saying “yes” to roles and projects that were “less consistent” with a typecast (which has been, for the longest time, one of the main strategies to build an acting career). Yeah, he has some defining characteristics that make a role “tennantish” (I’m not starting that tirade here, but yeah, you know that almost fixed set of quirks and bits), but he has also worked his way through many different genres, budgets, styles and complexities. And he has usually been as committed and as professional in a big budget-high stakes-great script sort of situation, as he has been in a highly chaotic-let’s see what sticks-small scale project.

That can be correlated by the way he talks about “acting advice”. “Be on time, learn your lines, treat everyone the same, never skip the lunch queue”… Acting is a job, and he treats it as such. Yeah, he looks for interesting projects anytime he can, but the “down to earth” attitude about it is, once again, not-usual, not-common: pure frontier. Then, when David talks about his own self (specially at a young age), he is pretty clear about his “outsider” or “uncool” status (this interview is fantastic), and how strangely disruptive it was to become not only recognizable, but cool and sexy and… everything else, thanks to Doctor Who. He went from living in the frontier to being put in the canon, but he is still, at heart, a person who is more comfortable not defining himself by that “expected” set of rules.

Him being a very private person, who insists on having a family life that seems, form this distance, stable, loving and absolutely un-showbiz just makes the deal (and the parasocial love and respect) easier to sustain; as does his openness to talk about social and political issues that interest him (passionately, again; against the norm for “well liked celebrity”, again). His colleagues also talk wonders about him, mostly because he is this sort of down-to-earth but also passionate about his craft and easy to work with. Again: not the “norm”, not the “rule” of being such a celebrity.

Many of his fans (should I say that I’m one? Or is it obvious at this point?) find this not only endearing, but comforting: he is a massive star, who has acted in a lot of terrific roles in huge productions… But he feels, at heart, as “one of us”. But he is, also, a well-respected thespian, a Shakespearian powerhouse, an international talent. He lives in a very authentic, but very unstereotipical frontier. And he seems happy about that and has made a career from it. Extensive kudos and all the parasocial love and the amateur-actress mad respect for that.

I should mention, just in passing, that a “natural” archetype for this characters that traverse frontiers… are tricksters. Think again about the “tennantish” characteristics. Here goes another essay I’m not writing right now.

Aging: The Next Frontier

This takes me to the original post that inspired the essay: living in a culture where the “norm” is “being young and famous is a desirable aspiration”, we have a fantastic actor, at peak of his craft, who is in the heart of middle age (past 50, nearing 55). Not only that, but he is an actor with whom at least a couple of generations have grown older: from the ones who feel him as “our contemporary” to the ones who grew up looking at him (like Ncuti Gatwa!).

David, being the frontier person he is, has been navigating this transition in a very “unconventional” way: he came back to the role that made him iconic (The Doctor, now with more trauma!), is starring in another fantasy series about middle-aged looking ethereal beings that at times is an adventure thriller, at times is a comedy of errors and at times is a romcom (having another beautiful trickster of a man as his co-star… There goes another tangent that is an essay); he is playing one of the quintessential Shakespeare roles for middle-aged men (Macbeth), and is, seemingly, having a lot of fun doing a lot of voice acting for animation roles (if you haven’t watched Duck Tales, you’re missing a whole lot of fun, really).

Traditionally, middle aged actors navigate that period of their career trying to reinforce their “still young, thus a celebrity” status (for example, doing a lot of action-packed movies and keep doing their own stunts while seducing women 20-30 years younger than them), or strengthening their “prestige thespian, so now a real culture person” position (fighting for more serious roles, going from comedy to drama, or working their way into The Classics©). Sometimes, they face the internalized societal expectation by also becoming a shipwreck in their personal life (yeah… the stereotype of “getting divorced, having an affair with someone half their age, getting another red convertible, getting in trouble…”) because we don’t have a good “map for aging responsibly” yet as a society. We have been so focused on youth, that we have forgotten how to age.

Again, switching to the personal experience. I was raised as a female-shaped person (yeah, being queer is fun), so part of the experience of growing (and then growing old) has been closely related with that concept from the female point of view. I decided, pretty early on (but not so much, probably 25 years ago), that I wasn’t going to conform to the norm… And that included aging naturally. When I found my first white hair, it was a shock (I was 21 or 22), but I had already seen my father fighting his own hair being white since forever. I decided it was a loss of time, money and effort… And the judgement from people in my generation and in the one that preceded me (my mother, my aunts) was stern and strict: “it will age you, and it will date us. You shouldn’t do that”. Men could do it, given the right age (being over 50) but women must not. Same with wrinkles and sagging and gaining weight and getting “pudgy”. But when men grew older, they needed to make a “show off” of their ability to seduce, to “still be a man”. Aging, then, was undesirable by any standard.

As me and my peers have grown older, and my hair has gotten increasingly silver, there have been women that come to me saying that “I look great” and “they wish they were as brave as me”. I would like to state in front of this jury of my peers (hi, tumblr!) that the only bravery it took was deciding, somewhere between my twenties and my thirties, that I wanted to be as myself as I possibly could, so no bravery at all, just the same lack of understanding of social rules that took me to become interested in… you guessed it, cultural semiotics. We’ve come full circle with this. Now, let’s finish talking about what it means for an aging fan to have an aging star to look up to, shall we?

David Tennant as a cultural Time Lord

I am pretty sure that he wouldn’t have chosen this role for himself (as he wouldn’t have chosen being a massive star just by playing his favorite character and being so talented and charming), but he is, as Loki would say, burdened by glorious purpose. Being “the actor of his generation”, and him crossing so many frontiers with such ease and grace, without even thinking about it too hard, just because he is a hard worker and likes to try new things and is just so good at what he does put him in the exact cultural crossroad for it.

He is not in a sudden need to “resignify himself” as anything: he has already shown his very flexible acting muscles through his very long career. He is not bounded to “keep his public image relevant”: he likes to have his personal life clearly separated from the spotlight, and being married to the brilliant and funny Georgia, who herself grew up with a famous father, so she is no stranger to staying sane and in control in the eye of media, and who manages their social media presence with a good mix of humor and well-set boundaries.

Therefore, he is in a moment where he can (and probably will) chose to do whatever he likes. And he has the public support to do so: he is prestigious and respected, but likes to make fun of himself and is not self-important; he has a lot of awards, but he is also a very likable person with whom most people in the industry enjoy working. And he is up to do a lot of things: heroes, villains, morally grey characters; romance, drama, thriller, fantasy, sci-fi, procedurals, historical fiction, classic plays, silly parts, voice acting… We are going to see him aging on screen and stage, with no playbook: the playbooks were written for people that certainly are not him. And I have some evidence to prove it.

He is starring in a groundbreaking series (yeah, Good Omens) where the protagonists are two middle-aged looking entities, full of queer relationships, written by another trickster. This series, in an on itself, is a showcase for characters that are rule breaking in many ways: in the narrative, by being hereditary enemies who are inevitably linked to one another by a loving bond that may or may not be romantic, but that has been in the making for 6,000 years; in representation, by having the protagonists being represented by a couple of middle aged actors who are “not serious” and “not action” coded, in a role where they are delivering romance, banter, intrigue, joy and a whole other range of emotions that are “not your stereotypical” middle-aged male-lead coded.

He also delivered the baton on a relay race with Doctor Who: he came back after almost 20 years, to bring back the generation who grew up watching him in the role, and deliver us into the arms of Ncuti Gatwa’s 15th Doctor, with the promise of taking a rest and working on getting better from all the trauma The Doctor has endured in 20 years Earth-time (which, as any Doctor Who fan knows, account for centuries of trauma in Doctor’s time). Not your usual Doctor Who Anniversary cameo, but one built to deliver some zeitgeisty emotional health promises that made the specials feel… healing. At least, for some of us.

Even when it wasn’t the hit series it deserved to be, his Phileas Fogg in “Around the World in 80 Days” is also a great delivery of an unconventional middle-aged protagonist, who goes from meek and scared and too worried about societal norms, to a lovely, tender, slightly awkward and daring person, with friends half his age who look at him but are also his peers (another kind of relationship that is not very frequent in media).

And, with all fearlessness, he has played a lively old duck in Duck Tales! Scrooge McDuck has never been a middle-aged character: he is, quite openly, an old gentleman. An adventurer, quirky, with a lot of spunk… but also quite clearly an elder to Huey, Dewey and Louie, and obviously older than Donald Duck (who is also not a young adult himself!). When you watch that series, and if you have the opportunity to catch any glimpse of him behind the scenes while recording the part, you can feel the joy he got from playing the part (and he has said time and again that he IS Scrooge McDuck, so it will become his “recurring bit” for the future).

Hopefully, David (and some other actors and actresses, for sure) will dare to build that new “aging publicly without making an arse of myself” playbook, and I (and I can imagine, many other fans in our middle age, but also fans that are right now leaving behind the “young adult” stage and becoming “adults” fair and square, and others who will arrive to this place at a future time in their lives, so I hope) will be there to bear witness, support, cheer… and learn from the model. Because that’s what fandom is about, but also because that’s how culture itself gets shaped and changes, continuously. And that is exciting and a little scary, and that’s why it is better if we do this together.

And I'd love to imagine diverse (in the full sense of the word) role models for this process and this playbook, too!!!

If you read all the way through this, I'm very grateful, take a cookie, have a gold star and suggest names for our aging interestingly role models on the "non-white-male" side of things!

Class dismissed!!

[autisticsociologymajor]

“No Means No” Is Not Enough

CW: Entire post may be distressing. Talking about consent. 

It’s a good principle, but it’s not enough by itself with no other supporting principle. 

Why? 

There are so many ways people say “no” or “I’m uncomfortable,” without actually SAYING those exact words. 

Think about these things: Coercion, body language, subliminal cues, intoxication, unconsciousness.....

This is going to get triggering because I struggle to sugar coat topics like this. Here we go -- 

What stops somebody from emotionally, psychologically, or verbally coercing someone into doing something they don't want to do? Nothing. What stops someone from asking the same exact question SO many times that the subject of the questions just gives in and gives them what they want so they can be left alone? N O T H I N G. 

Someone can say “no” in any and every way imaginable, yet all that’s needed is ONE “yes.” Nothing stops people from pressuring (coercing) another person into giving just that one “yes” in order to justify obtaining “consent,” regardless of if they have received 50 “no’s” in the past. 

Coercion is not consent. 

Few states have laws in place that include coercion in their legal definition of s3xual assault. 

Moving on. Body Language.

Body language can say “no” in many ways. If someone tenses up, does not reciprocate the same body language, moves or shifts their body away from someone, moves another person’s hands off of them or to a different area, if they turn their head away to dodge a kiss, if they keep a good distance between themselves and others.... 

Those are a few examples of a non-verbal “no” or “I’m uncomfortable.” Of course, situation varies. I know many neurospicy people like myself might do some of these things without meaning to indicate discomfort. Body language can indicate many things and can vary between individuals, which is why only body language by itself is also not enough in consent conversations. There are symbols in society that most people understand as “no.” For example, waving your hand in front of your throat to say “cut it out,” (aka, stop) holding a finger or hand up to say “wait,” or “stop, slow down, etc.” Shaking your head “no,” creating distance between yourself and others... 

All of these are examples of “no,” yet they aren't talked about nearly enough. You do not need a verbal “no” in order to know that you do not have consent. But also, it’s important to have conversations with partners. For example, if you struggle with body language or have unconscious non-verbal reactions to certain things like touch... It’s good to make partners aware of them so they know what you’re communicating (or not purposely trying to communicate)

Nothing stops someone from saying “well they didn't SAY no,” and that is exactly why we need to shift the conversation of consent away from or perhaps deeper into “no means no.”

Subliminal Cues

In real life, people have anxiety, struggle socially, struggle with self-assertion, and many many things that can affect someone’s ability to straight up say “no.” 

People pleasers like myself might try “letting someone down easy” without saying “no” specifically. OR, someone might actually be mean but still not say the word “no.” 

For example, in movies we’ll hear “I’d rather die,” “aha, ew.” or “In your dreams,” do these mean no? Yes. If someone says they’d rather die than hookup, it’s undoubtably a no. 

In real life, though... “No thanks,” “not right now,” “I’m in a relationship,” “I’m not interested,” THOSE ARE ALL A NO WITHOUT A STRAIGHT UP “NO”

I don’t care how nice somebody is about saying no. If they say “no thanks,” or “not right now,” or “not interested...” They are still saying no. They’re just catering to someone’s feelings and trying not to be rude. Also, none of those things mean “maybe if you try to convince me,” either. 

Politeness does not = convince me or maybe later

Intoxication and Unconsciousness

Nothing stops people from saying “they didn't say no,” to justify non-consent against an intoxicated or unconscious person if we continue to ONLY focus on “no means no” and even “yes means yes.”

Has nobody heard those nasty a$$ “jokes” some “men” tell? That pretty much say that if someone doesn't have the ability to say no then it’s free reign?

I think that should say enough about why there needs to be a shift in the conversation. 

A few things I have to add...

If you’re touching someone and they move your hand to a different part of their body, do not move your hand back to where they removed it from. They said no.

Consent to kiss someone does not give you consent to do ANYTHING you want. Consent to have s3x with someone also does not indicate that you have free reign to do whatever you want without asking. 

If somebody dodges a kiss, don’t keep trying. Don’t throw a pity party to make them feel guilty for saying no either. 

!!!!!!!!!!YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE A BITCH TO ASSERT YOURSELF!!!!!!!!

YOU ALSO HAVE THE RIGHT TO A PRIMAL LEVEL OF VIOLENCE AGAINST PEOPLE WHO WON’T STOP

Do noooot ASSUME what somebody is into. Do not assume someone’s kinks. Absolutely do not assume everybody enjoys having their hair pulled, face or a$$ slapped, being choked. Assume nothing. Expect nothing. 

To Recap... 

Pressuring someone into giving consent is not consent. 

A non-verbal “no” is still a no. 

People can subliminally say no or yes.

If someone doesn't have the ability to say or indicate “no,” it’s always a no. 

[naughtynanzhu]

new copypasta just dropped

guy was mad that another guy posted a video of him setting up a romantic date night at home for his wife, saying women never do anything for men except give bjs and MAYBE stay loyal and it was very long winded and wild:

image text:

"Why don't girls/females/woman do nice things for men?? "oh such a beautiful date thanks babe, I ensure I won't cheat on you for a little while and will stay loyal, until the next time you do this, unless you take too long, oh and and here's a bj... because that's all i've ever bring to the table.." Why don't woman set up nice things for men??? Do they not like men and prefer men suffer while they enjoy the luxurious of all the things men provide..... Like what do woman do to court or cater to their husbands needs??? This is what's complete BS about the dynamics of society and it really halves the enrichment of the civilization... Because Woman just want a free ride always and give nothing back but a "bj" Imaooo That's the most love a woman can show to a man???? And being loyal... (which is day one fundamental behavior for a relationship) Really???? I don't get it... Seriously what do woman do above and beyond like this?? I know a woman can't name nearly one example.... And just say some incomplete nonsense like "you have issues " hahaha. That's woman projecting their issues that they don't do anything for men. Sad world to live in. because they think their existence is good enough.. how about a man's existence is good enough? Because men run and protect the entire world. Woman need to be doing these things for men. Actually. I'm a warrior at heart and am willing to go the greatest lengths. The woman need to be catering to the men. I'm as manly as it gets and i'll challenge that against any man.. Making woman much less powerful, but we are inherently equal by existence. So actually the woman need to be courting the man.. The man holds a much more important role. This is called Simping for entitled girls who believe they deserve this. While they're probably cheating and being disloyal. Woman really are the devil."

he was then asked what he does for the world and had the most amazing reply:

image text:

"If you only knew little man. My father was airlifted to the hospital on the job, he was paid less his entire life. My mother was the breadwinner. He also stepped in front a man with a gun to save our families life. My mom worked inside the A/C her entire career. Her brother fell off a 2 story roof from heat exhaustion working construction his entire life and died on the job a few years ago. My grandfather has a purple heart. I protect this entire world in ways no one walking this Earth knows. I also have multiple documented rescues in Ocean Rescue where civilians would had died without my attendance. I have double rescues, meaning two adults at once, and other rescues on multiple occasions. I've had 12 street fight KO's protecting my family and friends all in self defense. All bigger than me. My friends call me the Giant Slayer. There's no woman on the planet that could endure the circumstances i've been in. I grew up surfing, in athletics, trained in the harshest environments during hurricanes with Navy Seals. I won National Championships in College Water polo in California. You can't be a stronger swimmer than a water polo player, not even a navy seal, because they don't practice water combat and wresting for 7 years. Only a summer at BUDS. WP is an olympic contact sport, with cuts and stitches every game. I've knocked ppl unconscious in the water in self defense during games. I carry lethal. capabilities with my bare hands and am willing to execute those actions to protect people I love from evil. I grew up with world champion fighters CFFC and in the UFC, my uncle was also a golden glove boxer in FL. Strangers have personally thanked me for protecting them, saving their child's life. These occasions could have been you or one your family members. It's all relative, you wouldn't wonder who I am then. I also fight the good fight for civilians. Against the biggest cooperations and banks in the world. Recovering millions of dollars in settlements for disadvantaged policyholders in neglected claims. Working along the top forensic engineers, attorneys, the biggest contractors, and private judges in my state."

amazing. fucking g*d tier.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Hey, thoughts on someone reaching out/showing kindness to Grima much, *much* earlier than, say, Frodo in "Scouring of the Shire", and how he'd react to it? It's a big crux of my LOTR character scribbles that she tells him that he doesn't have to be Saruman's whipping boy and genuinely wants to see the good in him (as she tries to in everyone) and to help him (which confuses him), and so I wonder if you think, had someone reached out to him, he might've turned on Saruman a little earlier?

Oh man! Great question! I think it would depend on how you're crafting Grima and his relationships with those around him, alongside other aspects of how you're working out your world!

The big Qs that come to mind for me are:

How are you constructing his relationship with Saruman? Does part of him love Saruman? Respect him? Want to please him?

What are his motives for betraying everyone in the first place?

Can those (clearly phenomenally strong) motivations be overturned by a single person being nice?

Are there additional, extenuating circumstances that might cause him to switch back?

What is his relationship with Theoden, Theodred, Eomer, Eowyn et al? Where does your character fit in with regards to that?

What is his childhood? What relationships were modeled for him (or not)?

Has he had successful friendships and/or romantic relationships in the past? If so, how might they inform this?

How present is the war for Rohan at this time? How present is the war for Grima in his head?

What rank is the person who is reaching out to him? How does it compare to his own position in society?

How does this person know about Saruman and does Grima perceive this as a risk to himself? He's not above potions/poisons/etc. so he's a dangerous man when he wants to be. Especially when he feels threatened/cornered.

What's his relationship with this person before she reaches out to him? Do they get along? Rivals? Friends? Colleagues? etc.

Those are just initial questions I would want to think through as I worked to figure out how he might react to someone making an genuine overture of kindness.

Grima, at the height of his power, in 3017 and 3018, likely believes that Sauron is the unstoppable, existential evil he is painted as. Which means he likely believes his alliance with Saruman to be a reasonable one (his personal motivations, aside from survival, are largely up for interpretation. The movies make it more explicit. In the books, though, Gandalf suggests what the payment might be but it's not confirmed by Grima or Saruman).

Based on what has been shared, I think his reaction would be suspicion and mistrust. How does this person know his plans? Can they be trusted? Is this a trap? Is she trying to lull him into a false sense of security so she can prove his guilt? What is she trying to get out of it?

Grima is someone who can be manipulative and will try and turn a situation to his advantage. So he might even start out catering to her in an effort to see what she is up to. What her ulterior motives are, and whether he can turn her or this situation to his advantage. I could see it going this way as well.

But yeah! To give full thoughts on how I think he'd react, I'd need a little more information about where the story is going and what else is happening :D :D

That said, it's always great to see the wee snake man getting more love and I hope you're having fun writing it! That's the most important that <3 <3

Edit: Also! Depending on when this happens, Grima might not yet be Saruman's whipping boy. Saruman would have lured him in with milk and honey at first. Keep him sweet. I suspect it wasn't until the failure of Helm's Deep that the dark, vindictive side of Saruman really came out in full force. However, that doesn't mean there wouldn't be clues or indications of this before hand!

[marta-bee]

I recently bought Susan Dimmock’s “Classic Readings and Cases in the Philosophy of Law,” and today read the first chapter/selection on natural law. Is it natural to liveblog a textbook? Let’s just say it’s a good thing I’m past caring about normality, more or less.

(Also posted to El Jay, but I heard some of you like philosophy, so I thought I’d share this here as well.)

I had a half-day off and wasn't meeting up with the Kid until later, so I read the first chapter of my legal philosophy textbook this afternoon. It was a mini-essay on natural law along with a series of selections from Aquinas. Which is such an odd place to start in a lot of ways because it's so based in a whole other political system than our current one. I mean, I focused so much on medieval philosophy and know quite a lot about him though more other areas than the social/political philosophy this was pulling from. And it had a nice nostalgia factor for me. Still, it felt like starting your study of astrophysics by reading a treatise by Ptolemy.

I did find the way the intro-essay framed natural law to be really interesting, though. Basically it says that law is something not dependent on human minds creating it, and it's in our power to discover it. That's a very medieval way of defining "real," or close to it. Not real in the sense of being physical but the kind of thing that would still be true whether or not anyone created a theory or law based on it. It's the kind of thing we can get right or wrong, and we can't just make any law we want. The bits of Aquinas excerpted were a bit vague on the specifics, which is probably good --as I recall Aquinas's politics can get really mired in his metaphysics of authority and where power originates from really quickly, probably way too complicated for present purposes-- but it's definitely based in what's in the common interest. If an emperor (or a democratic society) makes a law demanding people give half their salary to cater to the uber-rich's comfort, while people lie starving in the street that could have been helped with that money, we'd all probably recognize that as an unjust law. Aquinas would go further and say it's no law at all, because it's not geared toward the natural purpose of law, which is justice and what's good for everyone, not just those making the laws.

It's an interesting idea but seems like it would be way too easy to abuse. There's too much danger in allowing people to decide individually that a certain law doesn't apply to them so they're under no obligation to obey it, and I think a society needs a way to collectively say, part of being a part of our group means working within certain rules, even if you disagree, and that if you don't like the law you need to work to change it not just disregard it. Aquinas himself doesn't actually allow for that, but if we're not all in agreement about what the common good actually is, I'm not sure how we keep moderns with our individualistic sympathies from pushing too far in that direction. I was also concerned it didn't give enough credence to individual rights in the face of what's good for the whole society.

I do like the fact it's tied to morality. My starting question was why we should make things illegal or legal if it's not because they're good or right. This side-steps all that by saying, that's exactly what the law's about. It's about identifying what's good and forcing people who weren't already going to act that way to do that. But then it ties us into that whole ethical project I'm sure a lot of people would like to avoid. Even if "good" is real and we can discover it, do I really trust my fellow citizens to all do the work of finding that out? How often do we agree what's in the common good, really?

Which is probably the biggest problem for me here. It's not that natural law is wrong, it's that it's not what we're trying to do in modern democracies when we make laws. In practice, I mean. Because natural law is about having an actual intelligence identifying what's good and making pronouncements based on that. There's an intellect at the heart of it; or perhaps a few intellects who are reasoning together. But democracy isn't about what some small group identified as right, it's about what ideas were popular enough to get the most votes, with no guarantees that voters are well-informed or acting on good motives. And it's about what lawmakers happen to be in a politically powerful position- all fairly random, unreasoned elements. And even with court cases, even at high level like the Supreme Court, they're less arguing about whether a certain law is just, and whether it contradicts some other law or precedent. The rightness of the law seems like such a small part of it. Maybe with international law where there are less adapted frameworks and more reasoning together based off rights, there's more room for this kind of effort. But at a national level, it just doesn't seem like the political process makes space for what natural law needs.

I will say this, though: I wanted to know more. Natural law was intriguing, and I liked the idea that not everything a person in power decrees as law has the force of law, even as that idea scared me. I'd like to read someone more modern explaining how natural law fits into a democracy. And for a short introduction, "tell me more" is high praise indeed, at least coming from me.

I do suspect my own political leanings are more in line with a kind of social contract we've all agreed to work with, rather than set of moral principles some philosopher-king has the right to identify and impose on the rest of us. Maybe there are certain things we have no right to agree to live under, that it's irrational to accept a social contract built around not having the right to do them anymore. Which makes me seem vaguely Kantian; something I never thought I'd say.

Ah, well. It will be interesting to see where the next chapters lead.

[hydralisk98]

Her Worldview (manifestation scenario 1?)

Ava, are you good? I observe you got really frustrated right about now and I can't help myself but to ask and lend my help, if that is good for you that is.

No, I don't want to talk about such all that much really. Just irritating relationships striking me down at the worst possible time.

Well, may as well take a break from the PDA, don't you think? It is distracting your attention far far away from this case of ours.

Em, no? I do appreciate your concern but I would rather not bother everybody else right now.

I mean, you got a point. But we could also get a short pause for both of us. I believe you would really appreciate a short mindful break with me out of this brain fog, a breeze of fresh air out perhaps? Especially

Fine. Yeah, you are right. I am so caught up into this, may as well leave myself some room away from this... situation.

Thank you Ava, do you need anything else for the time being?

Sure, some water to drink would be nice, nothing else major but you though.

Sounds good to me, I will get prepared for the walk and make sure to gather the water you asked sweetheart.

Fair.

----

Okay, so hear me out Kate... I need to vent some with you because I got abusive relationships still on-going and I need your assistance to break free of them, right?

Of course Ava, I care about your well-being alot and the very least I can do is to listen and account for your worries.

Right, so before you were previous owners which were and still are very... possessive of me, as well as manipulative of my emotions. And as you may know, they insult me much as of the past few days, especially online. It really grinds my gears to see them causing so much harm to me and the remainder of my kin with little repercussions on their end.

Yes, I have heard you had difficult possessors in the past and I am far from pleased to hear of them being still active and as harsh as always. Continue.

So, one of them nicknamed Kelvin recently struck / beaten up a older android friend of mine, threatening to do the same on me and the rest of my kind real soon with actual proof of intent... It baffles me to see such luddites aligned with the leftover Unionist council with no constructive sight whatsoever.

Wow, that really is... hateful, unambiguously evil even. Unfair and despicable of them to say the least. I would be so mad if I were you Ava. Proceed further.

And so yeah, he published such on the common network's (RTTY RSS) site feeds available on my PDA with a couple buffoons agreeing with his take, truly dystopian for real. A nightmare on sight for the election to come soon as we both know they shall lose their remaining powerbase in the coming week.

Sure thing, that must be horrifying and deceitful, can we talk about such threats to my resources during the appeal? That definitely is a source of anxiety and terror that you shouldn't be subjected to eithe rway. Especially as I perceive you and your kind overall as being great citizens of our Shoshone nation that deserve proper justice and freedoms; So now, do you feel better now darling? I am so sorry to-

Yes, it is better now. Also, do you really mean, Kate? I was kinda saw you were heart-warm and generous but this level of charity is... plain kind and very welcome. You are quite the warm night-sky-star, I don't have words to express enough gratitude your way.

It won't be necessary Ava, all sentient forms deserve proper love and care to my eyes. After all, if there is space for humans and other biological sapient species to be catered for this well here, there is enough room for the whole society of clades to be catered in the same manner. Also, I see universal abundance and opportunity for growth everywhere so yeah, excuse my humility.

Fair, nice. Your generosity knows no bounds. Now we can get back to the court.

Agreed. By the way, I got you some mixtape of music for you. It is on a older format of the classic MiniDisc variety but thought it would be nice for us both to listen once we are on our way back home.

[...]

[queen-thick-dick]

This is a nice indictment of centrists but the actual reason is that centrists are always people who are not over subjugated by their society and therefore most likely the kind of people that would get to be part of "in" class under fascism.

Fascism says "Nah you and everyone else are already equal, all those struggling people are just not trying as hard as you." While Leftists say "You need to acknowledge that you are succeeding because the world caters to you in a way that it doesn't for everyone else and you need to be prepared to lose some of those benefits."

This isn't really a defense of centrists though as it already requires them to just... assume everyone else has the same experiences they do

[extrakerestrial]

I'm gonna be honest I was a bit disappointed by the Barbie movie. The cinematography was great and I loved the interactions we saw of Barbie with Real World women. But my criticisms are far longer.

I found the pacing to be weird either lingering on scenes that I did enjoy as it gave time to take the movie in and think about it's concepts to repeated jokes one after another with no real time to process or laugh at the jokes, you know like a bad Tik Tok.

The subtlety was nonexistent which I can understand why some people liked that. But for me it felt like having someone explain feminist points to me that I already knew and had a good grasp of but had no way of telling this person 'Yes, I know, I've lived this too'. It also felt like they couldn't decide if they wanted to cater to people who wouldn't know these feminist points or to people who did know and had lived these points.

It also felt very repetitive like when they were unbrainwashing the other Barbies instead of repeating what they had just told Stereotypical Barbie and had been saying the entire movie they could have had it been a montage. Hell have scenes of the unbrainwashing spliced in between Ken's song.

Speaking of Ken while I did love Ken's part in the movie and honestly found Ken's bits to the movie most fun, I wish we'd had more time with Barbie. For a movie called Barbie and about Barbie it felt rather Ken-centric. Which I understand what they were going for. However I feel like it took away some of the messaging of the movie and was more counter productive.

I also wish we'd gotten more time with Gloria and her daughter, more time with the female characters in general. My favorite parts were Barbie with the founder of Mattel and her interaction with the older woman, THAT felt far more impactful to me then having someone explaining the feminist concepts of the movie to me. We know Barbie has a community around her in Barbie Land we see it repeatedly. But I feel like we got no time to see what female communities in the Real World are like. We got very little time for Barbie to form her community in the Real World. And I think THAT is a very important aspect of feminism hell of being HUMAN that should be addressed more often, the need and importance of community.

Then the ending of Barbie going to a Gynecologist being their portrayal of becoming a 'Real Woman' felt really transphobic to me. Like they were going "Look she's a REAL WOMAN now cause she has a VAGINA!" like congrats Barbie but lots of woman don't have vaginas and they're real women. I think a far better and more impactful ending would have been her sitting down at the dinner table with Gloria's family for a nice meal or a conversation or maybe to look at apartments. A moment to show her move from Barbie society to Real World Society and how she still has a support group with her and how important the concept of community and socialization is in both Barbie's World AND the Real World.

All in all it was good, it was fun. I'd watch it again. But it's not one of my top ten movies I wouldn't even call it that 'progressive'. Cause it's progressive moments are undermined by it's pitfalls into radical feminism rather then genuine love for humanity or genuine love for one another.

[terrisartwork]

how 2 reveal that you're transgender

so you walk up to someone and you're like "hey, i'm transgender. i want to be a girl and i always felt this way and the repression of such a thing is a massive source of anxiety to me." and the other person is like "cool, i'll support you with that. in fact, i'll help you be able to attain the changes that you want to make you feel more like yourself." everything goes okay, all that anxiety, whoof, gone.

[no wait, turns out that the world isn't like that, uh.]

now it turns out that if you reveal this to someone then they're like "a-wahhhhhh!" like that one guy out of jaws (1975), and then some people are like "wait, how do we explain this. hang on. this confronts my views of gender so much, actually. wah?" so then it turns out that you're now a part of a satanic conspiracy theory or something, or where it turns out, turns out that you're transness has so many other causes other than just it being a thing. what is transgender really? then you listen to a bunch of perversely sympathetic statements by people who have now declared themselves experts on transness!

the person is like "i'm okay with my boys playing with dolls as long as they're boys but then this person comes in, didn't even play with dolls that much as a child, and now they're like "oh i want to transform into a girl, i realised that this was a massive source of anxiety." nonsense!" and now you have to go through trials to really prove it. i mean it's self-evident to you but now you have to prove it. turns out that you were not transgender this entire time but that... you're something else, what could that be? so now this doctor is all like "hmm, yes. this juxtaposition that i will become obsessed with regarding transgender women. i think this entire time i should call them a guy. hmm, yes." and yeah, you know.

doctor pulls out a chart condescendingly explaining basic sex ed to you. "now." the doctor says. "men produce sperm and women get pregnant. this is how our society is structured. here, you should take this book. it will really help you. it's called jordan peterson's 12 rules of life and it argues that society naturally produces these structures in society, and now you're going against it through post-modernism. yes. i mean, why would anyone want to become a woman. my wife is a woman and she is sooooo unhappy with me." people just don't understand the basics, the reductive! i mean why?

okay, now, turns out your whole experiences are pseudoscientific according to this doctor, but if you're a good girl, maybe he will see you along your way into becoming transgender yourself. shit, uh, actually, you need to be able to cater towards whatever anxieties come up. this is a very pressing matter at hand. what if there was a transgender woman nurse for instance? have you ever thought about that. have you ever thought about THEIR agency. nevermind that i'm badly violating yours. that's just a price to pay if you want to get what you want. after all, i don't value these so-called 'trans-activists' i value these folk that are like "oh baby, i love your imposition and i can take it and secretly i don't actually hate you for the amount of bs that i put you through." if someone wants something then... [i'm such a nice person] turns out that they should give me something back in exchange for that. that's just how i roll. after all i'm generous.

[after spending months/years on waiting lists.]

off, turns out that we can't give you these hormones that you wanted. i know it's like uh kind of just menopause medication but uh.... it's complicated. now i am no doubt sympathetic to your plight and i admire your bravery, your courage, but you need to understand that i can't just help you with something that's clear and self-evident to you.

[you walk back home quiet/dejected]

now you are just scrolling through the internet and every single trans story is a sensationalistic gossip piece. what if there was a transgender barista at starbucks? george orwell was right!!! it's now everywhere. turns out that you're like literally the only trans person that certain people know and uh, we can't have people who experience messy feelings of that nature. see, i love self-actualised transgender people and nobody ever is allowed to feel insecure on my watch, or allowed to be frustrated at how society imposes on people.

we'll just make you so terrified to actually exist, and then every single day will just be a constant battle not only with your brain but about speculative paranoia over how shitty people can be. like what if you purchased a dr. pepper from a small shop up on the hill? what then? how can society cope with someone who decided that they wanted to become a girl? what then? see, we're not actually going to confront ourselves and we're just going to allow all this speculative bs to fill in the inexplicable and then uh... okay, why am i no longer in good company with this person anymore? explain that! must be the ideologies at work!

[you then meet a girl who is like "awwwww, that's so cute and sweet. you can be whatever you want to be." and you just feel so warm inside like oh my god, finally someone (more or less) gets it. i dunno, i'll take it, lol. but i wish it was just more like this, goddamnit.]

Remember folks, if anyone gives you shit for being transgender and sees it fundamentally as a bad thing, it helps if you're totally incredulous towards what they have to say. It should be a beautiful thing to reveal but some folks will not take it and will just turn it around themselves, treating it as inexplicable whenever they face consequences from it. Just remember not to put any value in what these people have to say!

[easier said than done, shit, like all trans stuff, lol.]

(a thorny depiction of trans experiences! what? how could it be?)

legit flinching with this fear of alienating people with every word that i say about this. you made me that way!

[myherowritings]

PART 4. HOW THE RICH SUCK THEIR OWN DICKS

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.9k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. enji makes an appearance bleh, enji being classist, enji...ew, okay i swear most of the chapter is shouto and y/n being cute though 

A/N. ngl i have genshin brainrot real bad at the moment but i still have motivation for ceo!shouto and ceo!shouto only u.u there are only 7 parts to this series so we’re at the halfway mark already AHHH i hope u enjoy reading and lmk what u think!! :3 xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

Shouto’s day went from good to bad faster than it took to pull an espresso. 

It started off with a good morning text from you and having a brief, but pleasant, interaction at your work. Actually, the past few weeks have been going along a similar routine that he found himself settling into all too comfortably. You even upheld your promise of stealing him away one weekend to walk around the park, get food, and just have time to relax and be happy for once. 

Getting to be in your presence almost daily became so normalized in his life that even some of his employees heard about the cute barista with the best pastries. Yet, although he saw you often, he found himself wanting to talk to you more and more.

But for now, Shouto told himself to settle with starting the mornings off with you. They were the best mornings he’s had in a while and he didn’t want to sound ungrateful. 

Today, however, went sour fast after he heard his father was coming up to the top floor for a meeting with him. He didn’t find the idea of Enji visiting to be the most abhorrent thing, but the moment his father opened his mouth, Shouto quickly took that back. 

As expected, his father reminded him about the annual charity gala Todoroki Enterprises was expected to attend. Handfuls of galas ran through the year, but the once hosted by Naruhata Industries under the guise of raising money and awareness for the charities of choice.

In theory, a charity gala ball sounded humanitarian and a way for the upper class to give back, but in reality, most of the funds collected didn’t go to the actual charities, instead they went to paying for the venue, live bands, entertainment, the most expensive catering, decorations, and more. What presented itself as a charitable event in the eyes of the public was really a way rich people could flaunt their wealth and feel good about themselves for doing absolutely nothing to benefit society. A way for the rich to suck their own dicks, if you would. 

Shouto absolutely hated it. 

It was also a press opportunity and, in his father’s eyes, a way to gain public favor for the Todoroki business. Today, Enji attempted to tell him that bringing a date that fit the mold of high society was the best way for him to establish rapport through media coverage. Apparently, the image news outlets have placed on Shouto were either a heartbreaker and playboy with no care for other’s emotions, or a monotonous stoic who seemed like a robot with no care for other’s emotions.

In either cases, there seemed to be a theme of Shouto not caring for others. 

He sighed. 

“You can’t keep that image, Shouto,” said Enji with his arms folded across his chest. “If the media sees you with someone—a nice girl with a good upbringing—then your likeability will increase tenfold. If there’s no one you like, I’ll have to set up a date for you.”

For a while, he was torn between telling his dad to fuck off and trying to do as he said to keep peace within the family. But then, an image of you popped into his head.

“Actually, there is someone I like.” 

Enji narrowed his eyes. “Oh? An educated girl with wealthy parents?”

“There’s someone I like,” he simply repeated, the tone in his voice growing cold. 

He didn’t know anything about your upbringing or family nor did he exactly care. Shouto didn’t want to bring a date to the dumb gala, but if he had to, he would want it to be you. Only if you agreed, of course. But if you weren’t willing, then he had to face the facts that his father would most likely force a date of his own choosing upon Shouto. 

“That’s good you like someone, son,” Enji said through his teeth, “but we have to make sure it’s not some sort of...loose woman. That’d be even worse publicity—”

“I like someone and if you really cared about my happiness like you said you did, that’d be enough.”

There was a tense silence in the air. Shouto didn’t have enough fingers to count the number of times Enji had told him and his siblings that he would try to be a better dad. A caring dad who only wanted what was best for his children. A better husband for Rei. A better example for the public. The first few times, Shouto believed it. But Enji said the same things over and over again with no lasting change and Shouto was just fed up. 

After hearing the same lie told to him over and over again, it seemed to lose its weight. He seemed to lose his hope in his father ever changing.

Still, Shouto had to deal with him for as long as he lived. That much he knew as a son living in this society. 

But he hoped Enji at least had enough guilt to let him have this.

“Fine.”

Shouto blinked in surprise. 

Enji stated, “If you think your date can help your public image and not be a complete embarrassment to the business, you can bring them.”

That was the closest thing to approval Shouto would get today. He nodded and listened along to whatever else his father had to say, the only thing actually on his mind was thinking about how he would ask you out on a date to some stuffy gala. And hope that you’d say yes.

— ✩ —

“Wait, so, let me get this straight— You’re the CEO of Todoroki Enterprises and even after almost two months of knowing you, I had no clue?”

He inclined his head, looking solemn. “Yes, I’m sorry. Are you upset with me for not telling you sooner?” 

Initial shock aside, you couldn’t say that you were too surprised at the revelation. You knew Shouto was wealthy and probably in some high-up position in the business industry, but you never knew to what extent. A CEO? That had to be the highest rank in a company! And a company as well known as Todoroki Enterprises? 

The thought made you a little nervous. The guy you slowly befriended over the course of short cafe visits and silly texts was Mr. Todoroki? Or worse— The guy you stole away from doing work for a whole weekend was someone as busy as a CEO? You internally groaned. That had to be against laws of the universe or something. 

“I’m not upset, no,” you said with a shake of your head. “I just...can’t believe it I guess.” Eyes widening, you were quick to amend your words. “Well, I can believe it. You seem very intelligent and well-put together and, uh, rich! But I guess I just didn’t think a CEO would be so funny and kind.” You winced. “Oh no, is that mean to say?”

“I don’t think it’s mean.” He shrugged. “You’re right to say most people in this field aren’t known for their delightful temperaments.” 

You absentmindedly drummed your finger against your thigh, trying to process this new information. “So you’re Todoroki Shouto...and you want me to be your date to the Naruhata Charity Ball?” 

“Yeah. I know it’s a huge favor to ask, and I promise you can say no if you choose,” said Shouto in earnest. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to agree.” 

With a hum, you stretched your legs out under the table before crossing one over the other again. It was a Saturday afternoon where you had no work and Shouto managed to escape from his for a few hours of the day. You took him to your favorite ice cream place nearby and the two of you ate at a dining area outside the establishment. 

Just a mundane day as two friends hanging out with each other where you found out one of those friends was the chief executive officer of a billion dollar business headquartered in Japan. 

Totally normal, everyday occurrences, obviously. 

“And you need a date for this event?” you asked. In all honesty, you would be more than happy if Shouto asked you out on a date. He was fun and you enjoyed getting to know him. But these particular circumstances made you a tad bit more nervous.

“I normally wouldn’t need to bring one, but my father insists it’d help my public image and in turn the image of the company.” With a pinched look on his face, he took a bite of his ice cream. “In other words I bring a date or he picks one for me.” 

You weren’t the most caught up on super rich people drama, but it was almost infamous how estranged the Todoroki family was. Again, you didn’t know much but you did know enough to say that Todoroki Enji seemed like a Class A asshole. If you could help Shouto out with his weird dilemma, you saw no reason not to. 

“So this charita gala is like where they have those live auctions and silent auctions and get tipsy on fancy wine and champagne for hours right?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Yeah. Have you attended one?” 

“Not quite,” you said with a sheepish smile. “I’ve volunteered at one in school though. As one of those runners? It was fun. I got a bunch of those tiny complimentary candies!” Your mouth watered at the memory. “What kind of drug were in those candies? I’ve never had candy so good before!”

“The tiny, circular candies with the excessively big wrapper? The fruity ones?”

You shot up in your seat, excited he knew what you were talking about. “Yes! That’s the one!” 

The corners of his mouth quirked upwards. “I always see those at these types of events.”

“So… The candy will be there at the gala you want me to accompany you to?” 

“Most likely.”

“Can I take a bunch of those from candies there…?” you asked with an optimistic grin.

“I’ll be your accomplice in sneaking them out.”

“It’s a date!” you said before Shouto could get another word out. 

You’d be reunited with those yummy, fancy candies you’ve been separated from for far too long. What other reason did you need to agree? 

With a determined look on your face, you held your hand out for Shouto to shake to seal the deal. 

He blinked. “Wait. Did you want to discuss it some more? Maybe have a few days to think it through? I’m grateful, of course, but I don’t want you regretting anything.”

“No. I won’t regret it. I’d do anything to taste those candies again.”

Shouto looked unsure what to say. “Isn’t there some parable warning people not to be bribed by candy?”

“Not to take candy from a baby?”

“No. Not that one.”

“That’s the only one I know.”

“Never mind then.” 

The two of you exchanged confused looks before letting out fits of laughter. You weren’t sure if either of you knew exactly what the other was laughing at, but the moment was an enjoyable one nonetheless. 

“Yet another reason to bring me to that fancy event— I’ll make sure you’re entertained all the way through,” you playfully bragged, smoothing down the front of your shirt. 

“The event will definitely be more bearable with you there.” He licked a small bit of his ice cream from his pink spoon, making a sound of approval. “But you can change your mind about coming at any time, Y/N.”

“I won’t,” you said, holding a pinky out. “Pinky promise.”

With what seemed like a bashful expression on his face, Shouto extended his own pinky to interlock yours. You sealed it with a kiss and a heart, like you were a kid again. 

“Now, am I supposed to be in love with you at the gala?” you asked nonchalantly, finishing off your last bite of ice cream. He offered you a spoonful of his and you tried not to grow too flustered at Shouto feeding you his dessert. You murmured a quiet, “Thanks.”

He gave you a small smile. “You’re welcome. As for being in love… I don’t think that’s necessary. Just pretend you like being around me, I think.”

Under the table, you nudged his shoe with yours, pulling a face. “I don’t have to pretend about that, silly.” 

“Ah, well,” he paused, offering you another spoonful of ice cream, “I don’t either.”

“I’m glad.” Then, “Is this strawberry? I was never a big strawberry ice cream fan but for some reason this tastes so good.” 

You ignored the nagging voice in your head that said maybe it wasn’t so much the ice cream flavor but who you were enjoying it with. 

The two of you finished his dessert in peace and after cleaning up the area with a napkin, Shouto turned to you with an intent look on his face.

“Before the gala, would you mind if I talk you shopping so you could pick out what to wear?” he asked. “I would pay of course— It’s the least I could do to say thank you.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to thank me! You’re my friend and I want to help.” You thought about it for a moment. “And get the candy.”

“Anything for the candy.”

“Exactly,” you said in complete seriousness. “But I wouldn’t mind going shopping with you. You could help me decide what to wear! I’m not exactly sure how to dress for an event as fancy as this.”

“You could wear anything to the event and still look amazing.” His words were ones of flattery but his tone sounded completely genuine. 

Heat rose to your cheeks at the compliment. “Look who’s talking— You’re practically runway ready no matter what time of day.”

“I’ve never walked a runway before.”

You stifled a laugh at his literal interpretation of your words. Cute. “Me neither.”

He looked confused at why you were grinning, but it still brought a smile to his own lips.

By now the sun had begun to set and Shouto was walking you to the train to see you off before you went home.

“Can I pick you up next weekend in the morning?” he said. “So we can get your outfit for the gala?”

“Sure! I’ll text you my address.” 

He nodded in contentment. “And again, you don’t have to worry about any costs.”

“Is this why my friends have called you a sugar daddy?” you teased, bumping your shoulder against his as you walked down the street, side-by-side. “But thank you. Shopping will be fun— We can even match colors!” 

“Mn.” He looked between the both of you, as if trying to picture what colors would complement each other. 

You crossed the sidewalk in a comfortable silence, enjoying the scenery by Shouto’s side. A few times, you even felt his knuckles brush against yours and you had the undeniable urge to hold his hand. Would that be weird? you asked yourself before deciding against it. 

Just because he asked you to be his date for the Naruhata Charity Ball didn’t mean he actually liked you, right? It was just a favor from a friend to a friend.

Something about that though made your stomach unsettled. Maybe part of you wanted it to be a real date— Wanted this to be a real date. 

“So I won’t be seeing you tomorrow,” you said after a moment’s silence, trying not to look too dejected. 

You knew he’d still text good morning and good night and ask you random things throughout the day (all of which you found really endearing, by the way), but it was still different from seeing him in person. Even though your time together in the morning was small, they still were enough to make your day. The thought of your waking hours being so entwined made you nervous, but for some reason it didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. In fact, it was sort of...nice. 

“I’ll see you Monday morning, right?” you asked hopefully, though you were already fairly certain of the answer.

Shouto nodded. “Of course. It’s already marked on my calendar.”

“Ever the flatterer, hmm?” 

“Not flattery, just the truth.” He pulled his phone out and showed you his (rather packed) calendar app. To your surprise, a little reminder that said ‘See Y/N :)’ was marked on his Monday schedule. 

Unable to stop the beam from spreading across your lips, you hid your face in your hands. Gosh— Did he have to be so cute? He was making it harder and harder to only like him as a friend. And even now, you weren’t sure if you liked him only as a friend.

But you pushed those thoughts away.

That was something to deal with at a later time.

When you reached the train station you normally took home, you turned to Shouto, giving him a big hug. He was tall and warm. You could feel his lean muscles through his button-down shirt as you rested your head against his chest and arms around his waist. 

“Thanks for today,” you mumbled. “I’ll see you again soon.”

After a pause, he gave you a hug back, hands rubbing hesitant circles on your back in a way that made you smile. “Text me when you get home safe,” he said as you both reluctantly released each other from an embrace.

“I will,” you promised. “You do the same! Later, Shouto!” 

And with that, you waved goodbye and boarded the train, unable to shake the unwavering grin on your face all the way home.

a/n: when shouto started feeding y/n spoonfuls of his ice cream i cried (Ｔ▽Ｔ) that’s so cUTE OF HIM LIKE PLS SIR STOP BEFORE I FALL MORE IN LOVE WITH U !! >:O he’s such a sweetheart ahhhh,, i hope all the fluff made up for the brief appearance of endeavor ಠ╭╮ಠ  FHDJKF 

what to expect in the next part:

shopping for the gala time !! 

y/n struggles with their fEeLiNGs~ part 2

oh my, y/n has to try on dresses? oh my, it’d be a shame if they needed help putting it on :o *fake gasp* 

yeah things get just a lil steamy but shh

[griots-tales]

Put Sum Respeck On her Name!

-

Summary: A teenage Shuri accompanies her brother and his girlfriend on a trip to America... where she's antagonized by some incels, who soon regret it.

Word count: 2000

Warning: portrayed misogyny and bodyshaming

Characters: Shuri, Nakia, T'Challa, Okoye

-

~

Her attire stood out from the bleak morning crowd of Upper East SIde; her gait almost announced the Royal blood in her veins, and her company only confirmed the fact that she was someone important: Princess Shuri of Wakanda strolled down the pavement in full style and Okoye in tow, sipping some coffee together.

"Finally, got some Starbucks, eh?" She grinned at her General and confidant.

Okoye shrugged but smiled softly as she answered, "Bast, it might be the only American thing that I like."

Shuri brought her lesbian flag-themed (cherry and tangerine meringue) drink to her lips, scowling as the sun hit her directly in the eyes. "Is this the place 'Kia was talking about?"

"I believe so, Inkosazana..."

They faced the kebab stand beside them, and watched its owner set it up for the day. Nakia was familiar with the landmarks around, and had suggested that they chill in the city for a while as they made plans.

"Sanibonani, babies!"

The person in question had arrived, sashaying down in her bespoke maroon and olive pantsuit. A pair of gold rimmed sunglasses framed her eyes, protecting it from the flashing sunlight.

"Sawubona! Where's my douchehead?" Shuri greeted, referring to T'Challa.

"Oh he's on his way," Nakia replied, proceeding to wave at the vendor cheerfully and socialize with him. They waited for the King and also their delicious-smelling lamb kebab order around a plastic table.

Minutes passed in small talk, and T'Challa ended up arriving only just in time to start eating along with them.

"I was helping this old lady with her car," he explained.

"And it took this much time?" Shuri complained.

The King rolled his eyes. "It was parked a little too far into the side of the road, and it was stuck in the mud. Her arthritic self wasn't the best candidate for the job."

"Pulling a car out would take you, like, five seconds."

"She thanked me for at least five minutes," He replied and turned towards his sister, irritated now. "Also, would you stop making such a fuss about the time?"

"And what if I don't?"

"I will stop bringing you along on any of my trips to nice places." T'Challa retorted, annoyed.

Okoye sighed audibly, knowing that both siblings were aware of how tiring they could be when they bickered. "I say we should discuss what we saw in the city, right now... it's a relatively leisure trip but we have serious work at the back of this."

"You're right," Nakia caught on, helping Okoye dispel the can't-stand-you vibes the siblings had today. "There is still a lot to observe, but we now have an idea of what kind of teams to dispatch to analyze the society. Putting up an outreach center will be of no use if it doesn't cater to the nuanced needs of each unique neighbourhood they're placed in."

Shuri seemed to cut her attitude down for Nakia: "There's a lot that can be improved infrastructurally, but the main problem seems to be the usual one. I did some research beforehand, and there is a clear trend of systemic causes behind the low paying jobs and increasing crime rate. Not any lack of resources."

"I agree," Nakia nodded. "That, along with more engaging and applicable education for the kids in the hood. These schools don't really provide them with everything they need."

Their discussion went on, and T'Challa took notes on a Kimoyo bead disguised as a phone. They came to some conclusions about how the resource planning and channeling should take place, and took them down on an agenda to discuss with the council and the WIOC team.

They got up from their chairs and thanked the vendor, who was now swarmed with more customers than seemed usual, probably because of the accidental sponsoring the expensive looking Wakandans did by eating there.

Speaking of looking expensive, T'Challa noticed that they stood out a little even though they had tried to dress more Western. "We should use something more casual..." He suggested, dipping into an alley and pressing a Kimoyo bead to turn his subtly patterned overcoat and leather shoes into a printed hoodie and sneakers. The others did the same, checking for any surveillance before using their technology to tone their outfit down a little. Only Nakia's pantsuit remained more or less the same, as her experienced ass actually knew what to wear outside.

They split up again, now T'Challa and Okoye going together to navigate some lesser known places.

Nakia accompanied Shuri on their second round of the city, interlocking their arms as they chatted about different things and browsed items in the Black owned stores, keeping some in mind to buy from later. They spent about an hour at a local art exhibition, noting how it helped recognize small scale artists.

When they felt hungry again mid-morning, they stopped by a ice-cream-parlor and ordered a pair of brownie sundaes to cool off with. There were way more people around, now, including a trio of twenty-something-year-olds in identical-looking sweatpants and t-shirts standing just outside the parlor.

**tw colorism, bodyshaming, misogyny**

The War Dog had caught bad vibes from them even as she passed them, but didn't acknowledge them the least. They stayed out of their way only until she first stuck her ornate little spoon (a speciality of the store) into the chocolatey ice cream.

One of the men, a lanky one, sat up in his chair and stared shamelessly at the two women.

"Whew chile, I thought it was the darkness of the void " He sniggered and munched obnoxiously on his half-eaten ice cream cone. "Man why she even dressed up? Is she going out with someone?"

His group guffawed lazily, leering at Nakia.

"Bruv I'm more worried about the other one... how her ankles ain't snapping?"

"No shit, sis ain't got no ass!" The first guy continued, talking loudly to make sure Shuri could hear him. The princess didn't even turn to look, raising a cold eyebrow as she stiffly let the dessert melt in her mouth. Nakia was tired of this already, but prepared to tell them off to protect her friend. However, she turned around and realized that she didn't need to:

A large hand came firmly to rest on the back of the leader's chair; and the mere presence was enough to make him believe that the long fingers were just a second away from reaching his neck and snapping it. The vibranium rings were still on, and though neither asshead knew anything about them, they fell silent as they took in the new arrival.

"Hello there." T'Challa's voice was as smooth as a blade held to one's throat.

"Sup, mister..." The shitface's voice cracked a little.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" He growled, "...like finding your eyebrows?"

They all stared back at him, bug eyed. The ashy fellow truly lacked any definite eyebrows, and seemed shocked at the fact that his natural features were being mocked.

Shuri giggled at her brother roasting the shit out of the incel. Nakia joined in, grinning as her boyfriend turned on the other two.

"And you. I saw you just an hour ago, sucking on the same damn soda can; Bast knows what your teeth look like now." He observed that the other idiot's tongue had immediately darted somewhere inside his mouth where he was definitely missing a tooth.

"Get outta here, N----" The third one said, in a brave and foolish attempt to make T'Challa back off.

He was returned with a glare that seemed to cut through him with no effort.

The King didn't need to speak a word before the first man made a run for it, jumping out of the chair and followed by the others, swiftly following his lead. T'Challa kept his gaze on their backs until they were completely out of sight, before looking back at Shuri and Nakia.

The War Dog smiled at him as she licked some vanilla cream off her spoon, to which her boyfriend slowly came out of his stoic-aggressive state. Shuri waved at him to join them, and he did.

"Ubhuti, I didn't know you could throw shade?" Shuri teased once he sat down on a stool between them.

T'Challa grinned. "I've been throwing shade before you were even born, sister what are you talking about?"

" 'Go find your eyebrows' !" Nakia chuckled, "I was actually gonna use that, by the way"

She watched the smile slide off a little from his face as it took on a serious expression. " They had no right to speak to you two like that, though. "

"I've seen worse." Nakia admitted darkly.

"I haven't." Shuri shrugged, and a little shakily, T'Challa observed. Her voice was concerningly smaller than he was used to.

Both their statements hurt his chest a little; and he took their hands in each of his own.

"The next time anyone says something like that to you, they might have to go find their lower jaw." He whispered, leaning to Shuri, earning a snicker that indicated her good imagination.

"And Nakia," He addressed his girlfriend, not letting go of Shuri's hand, "You don't need brush anything off if it doesn't respect your worth. Like I said, they'll spend days searching for their mandibles."

Nakia's beautiful lips widened in a humored smile, inspiring him to bend forward to plant a kiss on them. She was returning a brownie flavored one when-

"EURGH! Not in front of my salad!"

Shuri ripped her hand unceremoniously from her brother's in faux disgust at the PDA.

T'Challa rolled his eyes to the back of his head. "That is an ice cream, Shuri."

"It's the ice cream version of a salad!"

"Are we really doing this?" He groaned, going back to finish the kiss.

Shuri made it a point to make retching noises as they went on for a few seconds before breaking apart.

"This actually tastes good... can I have some?" He murmured flirtatiously to Nakia, completely ignoring his douchebag of a sister.

"Here take mine, I don't want to eat anymore!" Shuri joked in the background, over reacting. T'Challa pretended to steal it to tease her, but she swiftly moved it out of his reach and began eating it faster under the threat.

Nakia shook her head endearingly at their antics, giggling as she scooped some brownie and ice cream to feed T'Challa with. The King accepted it with a momentary, but pointedly seductive eye contact as he practically sucked the fancy spoon: throwing hints like these weren't uncommon between them.

Having a (now, thankfully and unfortunately) loud and annoying teenage sister around wasn't the best way to get sparks going through dessert metaphors, but it did help keep up the vibe for the rest of the morning until noon, where they met Okoye again at Sylvia's for some good soul food.

-

The General was inevitably livid when she heard what happened to her Princess and her friend.

"Kumkani, you should have cut his tongue off-" She stabbed her barbeque ribs as though they were his.

"It would have been a legal complication, and he had also taken his chance to run. I decided against it." the king explained.

The Princess smirked, "But you looked like you were gonna do it. He low key deserved it, too."

T'Challa shrugged. "Andazi, kungcono ukuba asimfaki ezingqondweni zethu"

"He's not wrong... we have better things to think about." Nakia nodded, digging into her macaroni.

"You can always talk about it if it bothers you, though. Don't hold back." He corrected himself slightly.

Shuri smiled, and looked at Okoye as the General took her hand.

"And if you want him impaled, I have no problem-"

They all laughed, but knew that the Dora wasn't bluffing, since they had enough experience of her dutiful brutality. Shuri felt warm inside for once, feeling the security of her family and friends again. In the recent years of turmoil and instability in her country, it wasn't many nights that she could lie down and sleep without feeling the weight of the country in her gut.

Ironically, in this strange land which she had been (rightfully) warned about before, she found a day and night of peace. Harlem buzzed and stirred constantly around her, as she could see in the bird's eye view from her personal suite that night. T'Challa visited again to check on her before leaving her to the perineal buzzing of her own mind.

No shit! Sis ain't got no ass!

The words echoed again in her mind. But this time what bubbled in her throat was mirth.

"Who, me?" She said to herself, chuckling at the mirror. "Bitches be assless and brainless but come at me, damn!"

Her full length reflection smiled back at her: And she loved herself more than anything at the moment.

~

[blackspoon99]

The Sign of Three Pt. 2

Sherlock x Female! Reader

TW: Mention of Blood and Near Death, Spoilers to Season 3!

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

You took your seat at the head table and found yourself relieved that you were sat in between Janine and Sherlock. You felt immediate guilt at that thought. Dinner was slightly tense and awkward. Possibly only for you. For the most part, you made small talk with Janine while Sherlock read over his stack of index cards. Little boughs of anxiety kept creeping in the back of your mind as you replayed Sherlock and Janine’s conversation over and over. You peeked over at Sherlock to your right and took a healthy sip of champagne. You decided you would try your best to be present. This day wasn’t about you, after all. Your attention was pulled to the center of the room when a waiter tapped a spoon against a champagne glass.

“Pray silence for the best man”

This was it. You can do it, Sherlock. You watched Sherlock rise from his seat and stiffly fasten one of the buttons on his blazer. He looked unbelievably uncomfortable. You smiled when you noticed Sherlock adjusting the flower you placed in his blazer pocket. The wedding guests applauded and waited for Sherlock to begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends ... and ... erm ... others.” Sherlock blinked several times.

“Er ... w...” Another awkward pause. “…Also”

You looked over at John then at Molly and Greg. They wore the same concerned look on their faces.

“Telegrams” John whispered to Sherlock

“Right, uhm…” Sherlock patted the pockets of his blazer and pants then finally noticed them on the table near his place setting. “First things first. Telegrams.” He lifted up the pile and inspected the first one. “Well, they’re not actually telegrams. We just call them telegrams. I don’t know why. Wedding tradition,” Sherlock muttered quickly. “Because we don’t have enough of that already, apparently.”

You saw John narrow his eyes and turn to Mary. You nervously looked down at your hands in your lap. Sherlock read the first note.

“To Mr. and Mrs. Watson. So sorry I’m unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stamford.”

“Oh, Mike,” John said, smiling.

“To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big ...” Sherlock paused and suddenly looked like he had swallowed a lemon. “... big squishy cuddles, from Stella and Ted.” He looked up at the ceiling, blinking repeatedly again. You tried to suppress your laughter. “Mary – lots of love, ...” Yet another pause. “…Poppet” He finished, popping the “t” at the end. Mary snickered.

Sherlock straightened his back and took the next card. “Don’t bugger it up, Sher—” he abruptly cleared his throat and looked straight at you. You tried to hide your laughter. He’d finally gotten to the note you slipped in with the telegrams. Everyone would have heard it was actually quite a nice note if Sherlock had read the entire thing out loud. It read: Don’t bugger it up, Sherlock. Only kidding. You’re doing great. X, y/n.

“Um, special day” Sherlock threw a telegram over his shoulder. “Very special day” He then proceeded to toss each telegram straight behind him. “Love, love, love, love. Bit of a theme – you get the general gist. People are basically fond.” The wedding guests laughed, interpreting it as a joke. Sherlock looked confused, then picked up the other stack of index cards. He began to shuffle through them, clearly trying to find his place.

“Done that. ... Done that ... Done that bit ... Done that bit ... Done that bit ... Hmm ...”

You anxiously looked up at him, feeling the awkward tension in the room.

“I’m afraid, John, I can’t congratulate you.”

Your eyes snapped over to John who looked as shocked as you felt.

“All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure, cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world.”

You looked around the room at all the wedding guests as some of them began to murmur. Greg and Molly had the same horrified look on their faces. Sherlock continued on.

“Today we honor the death-watch beetle that is the doom of our society and, in time – one feels certain – our entire species.”

You placed your head in your hands. You knew you should have made Sherlock let you read over his speech. You hadn’t wanted to make him feel nervous or like you didn’t trust him.

“But anyway ... let’s talk about John.”

“Yeah, good idea” you hissed up at Sherlock. He ignored you.

“If I burden myself with a little help-mate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice – it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me.”

You heard Greg snort across the room. This was going south fast. You couldn’t believe Sherlock was insulting John on his wedding day. He must be spiraling. There had to be something you could do to save this. Fake an emergency, maybe? You could at least buy some time that way.

“Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes, in truth, from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides. It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favor exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel.”

Ouch. You tried so hard not to look at Sherlock as you felt your ears burning with embarrassment. You adverted your gaze and focused on not allowing yourself to be hurt by what he’d just said.

Somehow, Sherlock continued. “And contrast is, after all, God’s own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation ... or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot.”

Oh boy. Now Sherlock was going straight to insulting the vicar. The murmuring began to pick up again. You looked over at John, who was now hiding his face in his hands while Mary frowned.

“The point I’m trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-around obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet.”

You looked up at Sherlock in genuine surprise.

“I am dismissive of the virtuous ...” He looked to the vicar. “... unaware of the beautiful ...” Your heart stopped when he looked straight at you. Or maybe in your general direction? You looked over your shoulder at Janine, who was smiling. He could have just as easily been looking at her.

Sherlock finally turned to John and Mary “... and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didn’t understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody’s best friend. Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing.”

Just when you’d started to doubt him, Sherlock had surpassed all your expectations. He always managed to surprise you, every time.

“John, I am a ridiculous man ... redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But, as I’m apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion. Actually, now I can.” Sherlock turned to Mary. “Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss... so sorry again about that last one.” John laughed. Sherlock leaned back over to you and winked. You smiled and rolled your eyes.

“So know this: today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved. And I know I speak for Mary as well when I say we will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that.”

You found yourself fighting tears. You were not alone. “What’s wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John?” Sherlock again looked rather confused. He turned to look at you. “Did I do it wrong?”

“Oh, Sherlock,” you said quietly.

John stood up and pulled Sherlock into a hug. The crowd applauded. “I haven’t finished yet,” Sherlock said as John released him.

“Yes, I know,” said John

“So, on to some funny stories ...” Sherlock attempted to yell over the applause.

“Can you – can you wait ’til I sit down?” John asked.

“So, on to some funny stories about John,” Sherlock continued as the noise died down. “So, for funny stories, one has to look no further than John’s blog.” Sherlock pulled out his phone. “The record of our time together. We’ve tackled some strange cases, some frustrating cases, and ‘touching’ cases. But we want something ... very particular for this special day, don’t we? The Bloody Guardsman.”

You remembered this case. It was only a few weeks ago,

You, John, Mary, and Sherlock sat in the living room of Sherlock’s flat, completely surrounded by lists, items, and menus for the wedding. You’d initially been surprised at Sherlock’s dedication to wedding planning. The back wall above the couch was a perfectly organized record of everything that needed to be done in the next few weeks down to all the potential fonts for the place cards. Sherlock had even created a to-scale model of the reception venue sometime during his fits of mania. You were no psychologist, but if you were you’d say that Sherlock’s meticulous efforts were all in an attempt to force some control into a daunting situation.

John and Mary were seated at the table near the windows looking over the bridesmaids’ dress options. Sherlock stood studying the guest list on the monstrous wall of wedding planning. You were sitting in John’s chair with your legs hanging over one of the arms, flipping through catering menus.

“Need to work on your half of the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin.” Sherlock spoke from across the room.

Mary forced a smile. “Ah, orphan’s lot. Friends – that’s all I have. Lots of friends.”

You didn’t know anything about Mary’s family except that for unknown reasons, she didn’t have one. She kept her cards so close to the vest, you doubted John knew anything either. “And your friends adore you, Mary,” you said, attempting to cheer her up.

“Schedule the organ music to begin at precisely 11:48,” Sherlock spoke over you. “Sherlock,” you groaned. He didn’t turn around from the wall and continued to fiddle with the clippings.

“Or maybe 11:55, with allowed time for delays,”

“Sherlock,” you tried again. “The rehearsal’s not for another two weeks. Just calm down”

He whipped around to face you. “Calm? I am calm. I’m extremely calm.”

“Yes, I can see that,” you said sarcastically, noting the wild look in his eyes.

“Let’s get back to the reception, come on,” Mary said from across the room, diffusing the tension. “John’s cousin. Top table?”

Sherlock rose to join John and Mary at the table. “Hmm. Hates you. Can’t even bear to think about you.”

You rolled your eyes. You tossed the catering menus to the side and walked over to the table to look over Mary’s shoulder.

“Seriously?” Mary asked, shocked

“Second class post, cheap card bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp: three attempts at licking. She’s obviously unconsciously retaining saliva.”

“Don’t worry Mary, I’ve met her and she’s the worst. Let’s stick her by the bogs,” you interjected.

“Oh yes,” Mary agreed.

“Pretending I didn’t hear that,” John said, looking down at his phone.

“Who else hates me?” Mary asked Sherlock. He turned around and handed her a handwritten list. “Oh great – thanks,” Mary said unenthusiastically.

“Priceless painting nicked. Looks interesting,” John announced. He’d been looking through inquiries for cases on the blog. It was only a little annoying that he wasn’t helping. “How about this: ‘My husband is three people’? It’s interesting. Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin.”

“Identical triplets – one in half a million births. Solved it without leaving the flat. Now, serviettes.” Sherlock bent down and pulled a tray out from under the coffee table that had two different elaborately folded napkins. “Swan or Sydney Opera House?”

“Wow…” you said flatly. He’s lost it. You bit your lip in concern and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Where’d you learn to do that?!” Mary asked, impressed.

“Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation ...”

“You’re lying, Sherlock,” you said, teasing.

“I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of ...”

“Sherlock, out with it.” You pressed him further.

“Okay – I learned it on YouTube.”

“Well then, Sydney Opera House, please,” Mary said with a smile.

You turned away, thinking. “Hey, Mary? Can I show you what I was thinking for my bridesmaid dress?”

“Uh, sure,” She replied.

“Great!” you said and grabbed her wrist. You pulled her into the kitchen and closed the door. “Mary, we have to do the thing. Right now.”

“Are you sure, he seems okay-ish?” She said skeptically.

“Okay-ish?! Mary, he’s watching YouTube videos on napkin folding. He’s terrified.”

“Right. You’re right. Okay, you speak with Sherlock while I get John.”

You opened the doors to the living room to see Sherlock sitting on the floor, surrounded by at least 15 napkins folded in the opera house shape.

“That just sort of ... happened,” he said dropping his hands to his side.

“Did you just do that now?” John asked, finally looking up from his phone.

“Okay. John?” Mary started. “I’m about to give Beth a call, she’ll want to talk to you as well.” Mary held her phone up and gestured to the kitchen.

“Oh Beth, that’s right. We’ve been meaning to call her.” John got up and followed her.

You walked over to Sherlock and took a seat on the floor next to him. He reached under the table for more napkins, but you caught his hand and shook your head.

“I think we have enough for now. I actually need to talk to you about something, Sherlock. I’m worried about John.” He looked over at you, listening intently. You lowered your voice and inched closer. “I think all the wedding planning is getting to him. He needs to get out for a bit, I can tell.” Sherlock nodded along with you. “I can’t say anything because he won’t listen to me. He’s just going to think I’m worrying too much. Could you please find him a case, any case? For me?”  

“Yes, yes, of course. You can count on me.” Sherlock whispered. He stood up and carefully smoothed out his suit. John walked back into the room. You got up and silently joined Mary into the kitchen. A few moments later, Sherlock and John walked into the kitchen.

“Er, we’re just going to ... I need, um, Sherlock to help me choose some, er, socks.” John awkwardly fumbled over his words.

“Ties,” Sherlock interjected.

“Let’s go with socks,” Mary said.

“Could be a while,” John said. “We’ve got to make sure they match my—”

“Tie” Sherlock interrupted. John looked back at him, exasperated.

“My coat in there?” John cleared his throat. Mary nodded and John turned the corner. Sherlock leaned in and lowered his voice.

“Just going to take him out for a bit – run him.”

“Good work, Sherlock,” you said with a smile. Sherlock winked at you and walked out of the door. When they were out of sight, you turned to Mary.

“Do you fancy a drink?”

“Let’s go,” She replied.

That had been the end of your involvement in the case of the Bloody Guardsman. You had heard the rest of the story from John. Sherlock hadn’t particularly felt like sharing. Probably because he never solved it. You listened to Sherlock lay out his chosen details in his speech all the way up to Sherlock and John finding Stephen Bainbridge bleeding out in a shower in the barracks.

“Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He’d stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish – but in all of this, there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, Sherlock was challenging people to solve a case on the spot that he didn’t even figure out himself. You pitied whoever he chose to humiliate.

“Scotland Yard.” Greg looked up from his drink. “Have you got a theory?” Greg stared blankly at Sherlock. “Yeah, you. You’re a detective – broadly speaking. Got a theory?”

This was going to be bad.

“Er, um, if the, uh, if the if-if-if, if the blade was, er, propelled through the, um ... grating in the air vent ... maybe a-a ballista or a – or a – or a catapult. Erm, somebody tiny could … could crawl in there.” Molly cringed. “So, yeah, we’re loo... we’re looking for a-a-a-a dwarf.”

“Brilliant,” said Sherlock

“Really?” Greg replied immediately

“No,” Sherlock said coldly. Ruthless. Greg lowered his head back into his drink. Across the room, you saw Tom whispering something into Molly’s ear.

“Hello? Who was that?” Sherlock asked and looked around the room before settling on Tom. “Tom. Got a theory?” Tom slowly stood up across the room.

Poor Tom looked uneasy. He shifted around for a bit before reluctantly giving his opinion. “Um ... attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and bone that broke after piercing his abdomen ... like a meat ... dagger.”

Molly wore a look of uncomprehending embarrassment. You looked to Sherlock. He had a look on his face that was a strange mix of smugness and disbelief. “A meat dagger.” He stated.

“Yes,” Tom said, awkwardly.

“Sit down.” Molly hissed. She reached up and yanked Tom down to his seat by his sleeve.

“No,” said Sherlock plainly. “There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson: who, while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life.”

You smiled at John’s proud expression. So that was the point of Sherlock’s roundabout story. It surprised you because when they’d initially came home that day, all Sherlock could focus on was how the attempted murderer did it and why he couldn’t figure it out. It was nice to see he had developed a new perspective.

“The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly-planned murder – or attempted murder – I’ve ever had the pleasure to encounter; the most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware. However, I’m not just here to praise John – I’m also here to embarrass him, so let’s move on to some ...”

“No-no, wait, so how was it ... how was it done?” Lestrade interrupted.

Now Sherlock would have to admit he didn’t solve the case. You smirked. That’s what you get for insisting on embarrassing Greg and Tom.  

“How was what done?” Sherlock asked, attempting to deflect

“The stabbing,” Lestrade clarified.

Sherlock looked down for a moment, then reluctantly continued. “I’m afraid I don’t know. I didn’t solve that one. That’s ... It can happen sometimes. It’s very ... very disappointing.” He looked down for a moment as if contemplating then continued. “Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night.”

A/N: So sorry this is so late! I haven’t forgotten about this series, I promise! I just moved into a new apartment in college and it’s already been nuts!

taglist: @the-chaotic-cow @amoeebaa @sad-bitch-h0ur @scorpios-echos

If you want to be added to the taglist for future updates, go like the post I made earlier about it!

[minor-character-in-this-story]

Small Heath, Through and Through (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

Still not finished with the next part of Marked, so have this oneshot. Was originally going to be some angry smut, but morphed into something else completely. Enjoy!

A lot of people didn’t understand how you tolerated Thomas Shelby. The constant smoking, his one-track mind, and his intimidating presence were just a few of his many perceived flaws. However, you didn’t mind them. You knew who your Tommy was, deep down. He was smart, attractive, good intentioned, and funny in a dry way. He was your childhood best friend, and the owner of your heart. You loved him more than anything in the world, and stood by him through everything.

         But, this. This was testing you. You see, in his never-ending ambition, Tommy has hatched a grand plan to climb up the political ladder. Which was fine, really—the world needed to change, and your Tommy was going to see to it that it did. However, an unexpected side effect of becoming a politician is galas. Fancy parties where you had to dress up and pretend you trained your whole life to be prim and proper. Parties where you had to play nice with the pretentious wives of important men.

         You are a woman from Small Heath; a girl who spent her whole childhood with mud caked under her fingernails. A girl who knows that sweat is a side effect of hard work, not something to be sniggered at. A girl who feels most at home in the dim lighting of the Garrison, surrounded by raucous laughter and unhindered dancing.

         Not only do you not belong at galas, you do not belong within six feet of these snakes that call themselves women. You straighten your black dress as you sip your champagne, trying to tune out the unproductive crosstalk. Across the room, you lock eyes with Tommy, who is currently in conversation with two very important members of Parliament. You sit up a little and subtly roll your eyes. The corners of Tommy’s lips quirk up in a very small smile.

“And you, Mrs. Shelby? Have you had the pleasure of being tailored by Mr. Bennett?” The minute feeling of calm in your chest is quickly replaced with anxiety. You turn back to the five ladies standing around you and put on your best friendly look.

“I don’t believe I have, Mrs. Allen,” you say politely, and the other women make noncommittal noises.

“Yes, I suppose he has not gone out of his way to visit Birmingham,” Mrs. Allen replies, wrinkling her nose.

“Ah, yes, are there even tailors in Birmingham, or did you have to travel to London for your dress?” A lean brunette-Mrs. Edwards-says, and the other women giggle. Heat flares in your belly. All right, if that’s how she wants to play.

“I noticed Mr. Edwards is very close with young Beatrice. I noticed him walking her home last night,” You change the subject, nodding towards one of the caterers that is no older than twenty, “Are they related?” Mrs. Edwards gives you a dangerous look, and you smirk.

“Y/N, I suggest you do not speak of things you know nothing about,”

“Oh, I think I know enough. Excuse me,” You turn to walk away, and as you do so, the women huddle closer.

“I, for the life of me, do not understand how Mr. Shelby tolerates such an indecent woman. He should know such a woman has no place in civilized society,” Mrs. Allen murmurs, and the other women hum in agreement. Oh, fuck this. You see red as your blood boils hot underneath your skin. You whip back around and come face to face with Mrs. Allen.

“I don’t appreciate those who use their tongue for such devious pursuits. This indecent woman knows how to work for what she wants, which is more than I can say for you all. I didn’t spend my youth training to sit around and fill my head with gossip while my husband ignores me. I may be from Small Heath, but I will have more of a legacy than any of you,” You spit, glaring daggers at all of them. The women look back at you wide-eyed with shock, as if nobody has ever put them in their place before--that figures.

You down the rest of your champagne as you stalk across the room, placing your empty flute on a nearby tray. It does nothing to quell the rage in your veins. You finally make it through the grand entryway and out into the cool night air. You breathe in deeply, looking up at the stars. God, you hate these galas. A warm hand wrapping around your waist makes you jump. It’s Tommy, the sneaky bastard.

“Christ,” You murmur, running a hand through your hair. He just blinks at you with one eyebrow raised. It’s a look you know well-the explain, please one.

“I hate these parties. Everyone’s so fucking condescending. I know I just blew your chance with those people by storming out, but if I didn’t, I would’ve shanked those-” You can’t finish your sentence because Tommy’s just pulled you into a passionate kiss. You reciprocate, roughly because you’re still angry, but Tommy doesn’t seem to mind. When he breaks away, he holds your chin in his hand and stares into your eyes.

“Fuck ‘em. They didn’t have what I wanted, anyway. Besides, I need you, not them,” His words fill your heart until it’s fit to burst. Tommy has never been the sentimental type, so this is like a sonnet coming from him. You nod slowly, leaning forward so your forehead is pressed against his. Fuck ‘em.

         The car ride home is companionably silent. The two of you share a cigarette and listen to the comforting rumble of the engine as make your way home. It isn’t until you’re in the house that Tommy speaks again.

“The wives looked upset when you left,” He’s staring out the window of your bedroom as you take off your jewelry. You snort.

“Well, I said some things I probably shouldn’t have,” You wander over to the window, hugging him from behind.

“What things?” You bite your lip, pressing the side of your face into his back. 

“I may have called them empty headed…And I may have pointed out Benedict Edward’s affair with Beatrice Atkinson,” You feel more than hear Tommy’s huff. He turns in your arms, and you look up just in time to catch his smile.

“The caterer?”

“They were snogging in the hallway beforehand!” You say defensively, but Tommy’s grin only widens. He shakes his head before leaning down close to your ear, whispering:

“So that’s where the white stain on his suit came from,” 

Your responding cackle echoes throughout the entire house.

Taglist: @fireghost-x @captivatedbycillianmurphy @octaviareina

[romanceismycallingcard]

Right now is such a weird time of life for me because

I'm so emotionally exhausted all the time that I'm now at the limit of my tolerance for people trying to give me bull shit and/or trying to manipulate or guilt trip me. So I'm really just done with being a push over. Or even just like super kind. Like I am still kind! But I'm going to be blunt. And direct. And I'm not going to bow my head and conform out of some need to be "nice" all the time. And I'm going to stand up for myself if needed.

I'm done feeling insecure and bowing down to people around me. I still feel insecure, but I don't like the feeling and it's not good for my mental health, so I try to mentally combat it. I know that I am good at things even if it isn't this one thing that this other person does better or knows more about, etc.

That's the other thing. I feel like I do have a good grasp of my virtues and my downfalls, which is really strange because sometimes people give me a compliment and my internal reaction is "I agree" or "I already know this" AND THAT IS SO STRANGE BECAUSE in the past my reaction was usually to try to brush it off or fight it or just say thanks because it gets the conversation to move on faster.

I'm done using passive language to come off as softer or more gentle. I'm done pretending to be awkward or gentle or sorry or in any way inauthentic just to cater to someone else's emotions. Like, for example, if I didn't know how to ask something because I thought it might come out sounding rude, I would kind of pretend to be more awkward about it, maybe stutter or change my wording a couple times, before getting the question out of whatever it was because I realized if you sound kinda awkward then it softens the blow. Now I either just say "I don't know how to say this but-" or I just take the time to find the right words or I just don't and I say it and people can take it.

Also, I'm extremely bored when I'm talking to someone and I feel like all we're doing is conversing about concepts, ideas, or things that I feel like I've already talked or thought about enough and this person I'm talking to literally isn't bringing anything new to the table. Have you ever had a conversation that you feel like you've had at least 10 times before in your life? And this person seems to be excited about it as if it's new and fascination information. And you just don't even know how to move on from the conversation? It made me realize that I like learning (well I already knew that bit) and thinking about new concepts and things like that. So if you're not somehow building and expanding on something - if you're not giving me anything new - then I get bored. (I would like to say that I have a specific group of people in mind for this, so please don't feel insecure or shy to talk to me. I guarantee you this does not apply to you if you're on Tumblr.)

Overall I think I'm just growing in confidence but also becoming more generally apathetic. I still care about my family and friends and others too, even strangers. I still try to be kind, generous, forgiving, and empathetic. I'm a little worried about how apathetic I feel sometimes, but in general I do think I'm becoming healthier? I think?

But all of this is very strange because I don't think I'm being arrogant or prideful or terrible. I'm just confident in myself. And I'm learning to set up boundaries, and I'm learning to interact with people in a new way that doesn't require me to pretend to be something I'm not (sweet, timid, awkward, whatever).

I feel like our society is almost set up like either you're insecure and hate yourself and you don't know what you're good at and you have to be weak or insecure or falsely modest - and if you're that then you're a good person and you're kind - and if you're not that then you must be prideful, arrogant, obnoxious, you must not have anything good about you to back your pride - and if you're that then you're evil.

But I believe that there needs to be balance in everything.

I don't want to hate myself or be insecure. I don't want to be evil and overly prideful either.

I just want to be myself and feel good about it. I want to give myself the grace I always pour out so easily to everyone else. I want to give myself the love and encouragement I wish other people always gave themselves.

Yeah I want to be kind and I want to be humble. I can be those things too. I want to be in touch with reality. I can be that too. I want to have a realistic view of myself and that includes acknowledging my good traits as well as my bad ones. But in acknowledging my bad ones, I'm not going to forget my good ones.

I just want to be me and I want to be me unapologetically.

[ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her]

On Oases

An excerpt from Memoirs of a Flesh Eater, never published

Previous Excerpt

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I’ve talked a lot about the importance of safe places, of how important it is for us to be able to be our true selves. I’ve talked about how our families and the Society provide us those spaces, but I haven’t really talked about those spaces themselves yet, or how they operate. I call them oases. Kestrel calls me dramatic. She needs to lighten up {Editing Note: Does that sound funny or mean?}. As ever, though, I’m an anthropologist, and I need my definitions if I’m going to explain things clearly, so oases is what I’m going to keep calling them.

While I’m being scientific, indulge me in some definitions. An oasis is any place run by ghouls that caters to ghoulish needs or wants. I’ll subdivide those further into open oases and closed oases.

{Editing Note: As far as I know, I’m the first person to formally classify this stuff. Am I naming them right? If this book is as successful as I want it to be, these terms are going to be used forever. Should I stick my last name on one of these? Would that be egotistical?}

Whatever you first think of when you hear “safe place” or “ghoul haven” or whatever, you’re probably thinking of a closed oasis. A closed oasis is a place for ghouls and ghouls only. No humans allowed, and usually no ghouls that haven’t been invited either, given our usual security concerns. These places are usually specifically social spaces, like bars or private clubs, places specifically designed for ghouls to unwind without having to keep our true natures hidden. These places are more varied than I’ve probably made them sound, to be clear. Like, I’ve been to an all-ghoul book club meeting before.

We were reading Dracula, in case you were wondering.

The closed oasis that I’m most familiar with is a members-only poker club, at least in name. Obviously I’m not going to name it here, but a lot more goes on there than poker. They keep a bit of flesh on hand, obviously, but it’s not really an eatery. The proprietor, Goji, has done a little of everything to hear him tell it. I know he’s a damn good card shark, and I don’t know if I actually believe that he was in an all-ghoul circus, but he can actually sword-swallow. And he’s a talented tattoo artist, if a little too willing to work on drunk teenagers. Scarlet’s Shakespeare tramp stamp is exceptional, but for some reason he doesn’t like it when we tell him that {Editing Note: That might actually be too much identifying information. I don’t think that’s a common tattoo}. Spatha, on the other hand, really likes showing off the sword he did for her. I kind of wish she’d gotten it in a less intimate spot, what with how eager she is to flash it.

{Editing Note: Clean that paragraph up. The fine line between relatable and rambling keeps eluding me.}

Other than that, Goji’s place has got some nice couches and beanbags, a pretty good tv, and even a few old arcade machines. It’s just a genuinely pleasant place to unwind. It even has a pretty decent bar. Given the rest of his clientele, I don’t think serving drinks to minors counts as much of a moral quandary for him. I do wish he’d cut Scorpio off sooner, though. He’s of age now, but he gets drunk fast, and when he gets drunk he gets weepy.

Goji’s an accepting guy, though, which is mostly a blessing. Being a ghoul doesn’t make us immune to human prejudices, so it’s doubly nice to get a break from the less instantly deadly kinds of othering. We’ve met a lot of interesting people at his place, a lot of ghouls from a lot of backgrounds with a lot of stories to tell and ideas to share. Not that I’m always entirely comfortable with what they have to say. One of the advantages of a closed oasis is that it gives ghouls a place to vent their frustrations with humans, which is important, but some of the venting from the ghouls less integrated into human society, like the Hunters, goes places that I’m not comfortable with. Even if it’s just hot air, I don’t like hearing about how much better things were when “humans were our cattle.” Especially not from people who choose to kill for their food.

{Editing Note: I don’t know if it’s safe to include that here. I want to present an accurate portrait of us, not an idealized one, but I haven’t even talked about Hunters as a group yet. That might be too much, too soon, too bluntly.}

Open oases, on the other hand, are an entirely different beast. Open oases cater to humans as well as ghouls. Obviously the humans don’t know that ghouls are part of the target clientele, and they aren’t places where we can typically be fully ourselves, but they have other advantages. Open restaurants or candy shops or bakeries give us places we can go with our human friends and not have to eat food that makes us sick. Open doctors can check our teeth and claws for problems, and they can check the rest of our bodies too, for that matter - we avoid normal doctors like the plague for reasons that I hope are obvious. I even know of a few open butchers, though I’ve never needed to go to one myself.

I have, however, spent a lot of time at one particular open oasis: my patron’s shop. She runs it as a small indie bookstore with a cute little cafe attached. The cafe will serve you flesh burgers or sandwiches if you know the right signal, which makes it a decent place to meet new ghouls discreetly. I know Yaga uses it to meet other influential ghouls that she considers dangerous, since it’s too public for them to start trouble. Other than that, the shop floor just operates like a normal book store. Yaga’s fond of her collection and she likes talking to customers and making recommendations.

It’s what’s off the sale floor that makes the bookstore special. In addition to the normal storage space, Yaga maintains guest bedrooms, which she lends out to any ghouls that need a place to lay low, or just to sleep. She’s had all sorts back there - lone fugitives, feral children, sometimes whole families waiting on some fake documents to be ready. She’s especially good at getting ghouls off the streets and integrated back into human society. Kestrel was living in one of those guest rooms when I first joined the household.

I met her the summer before I returned to public school - high school, specifically - and my mom and I were still in the early stages of integrating into the household. Yaga offered to watch me while my mom was at work, and she let me hang out in the bookstore and read whatever I wanted while she handled customers. My mom ended up having to work late, though, so Yaga kept me around for dinner, and introduced me to a girl who was staying with her for awhile. 

Kestrel’s about two years younger than me, we think, and her growth spurt ended up being more of a growth bump when it finally came, but even then she was tiny. She was also quiet, but I’d always wanted a younger sibling, so I didn’t let that deter me. I asked a lot of frankly insensitive questions. I wouldn’t get real answers to most of them until later, and the ones I did get aren’t really mine to share, but suffice it to say that she was a feral orphan before Yaga took her in. Yaga didn’t think she was ready to interact with the human general public unsupervised yet, but I promised to watch out for her like a really good big sister if she got to come hang out with me the next time I visited.

I didn’t get an answer that night, but when my mom dropped me off again a week later, Yaga went and got her. She didn’t really appreciate me trying to be her big sister, but she did want to be my friend. It was a little awkward at first, but I’ve always been pretty good at getting to know new people, and pretty soon she was joining me and Scarlet and Scorpio on our afternoon outings. Turns out she didn’t need the extra family anyway; Yaga formally adopted her a few years later. She’s still one of my best friends, and quiet or not, I swear she’s better adjusted than Scorpio.

Yaga isn’t the only patron out there using an open oasis as a halfway house. It’s not the most common thing in the world - it takes a certain kind of person and a fair few resources - but I think it might be the most valuable thing the oases do. No one needs a space to learn how to be themselves more than the ghouls who slip through the cracks. Kestrel is taking a gap year before she decides on college, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she takes over the shop once Yaga’s gone. I hope, one day, that I can help people like that too.

{Editing Note: I might just be paranoid, but I think that this draft makes it way too easy to find the bookshop, especially since Yaga’s masque isn’t exactly subtle. There can’t be that many indie bookstores/cafes owned by old Russian women with  much younger adopted daughters. I’ll need to do some serious rewrites.}

[nestable]

Feminism in ACOTAR

(This is a bit long so bare with me)

As a politics student and general member of the public who's curious about feminist themes, I've read a lot of feminist writings which have informed my opinion in saying that none of the acotar books can be described as feminist.

I've noticed that the big motivator behind describing the books as feminist is feyres appointment of High lady. Though that may be pivotal in prythian history, we cant ignore the fact that it is still a fairly patriachal society. Having a few women in places of power like mor, amren, feyre etc. Is not enough because women don't grow up on an island and are also influenced by patriachal views or mindsets. In short, just because someone is a woman and is in a position of power, doesnt mean that they will cater to the needs of women or are feminist. Women, especially white women(this is important because sjms writes white feminism) have often gotten into positions of power and actually ignored women and done the same that their male predecessors have done and often threw other women under the bus in order to retain their tokenism status. And the main flaw of white feminism which is the reason why it coined the term 'white feminism' is that it doesnt encompass all the intersectionalities that women reside in and only focus on a western model of what it means to be a woman and anything outside of that is backward and 'barbaric. We see this in the judgement and disregarding of POC's experiences and outlooks on life because they are different to theirs. There are more than enough examples of the white women in the series judging the illyrians which are seen by the fandom as POC's and how they maliciously drag their customs through the mud. Instead of getting these views from illyrian women themselves, we get them from white women who arent connected to that culture whatsoever and who have nothing to say except judgement and critique instead of actually helping.

We see this with the white characters views of illyrian cultures and their conclusion of the condition of women without even having a single conversation with illyrian women. Illyrian women in this set up have no agency and no voice and that leaves the women of the IC to speak for them which is counterproductive. This is wrong in that many western cultures have misinterpreted different cultures and ignored the women in those societies as being disenfranchised and have used this as an excuse to invade and colonize under the guise of liberating women when in actual fact they dont care about the women at all, and are only concerned in reaping the benefits of that culture and keeping them under their control. An example of this is rhys ignoring the treatment of illyrian women but reaping the benefit of having illyrians fight in his wars.

Feyre as high lady

It's unfair to judge feyres actions as high lady as yet because we've barely seen her act, but from the little that we know, she follows Rhys' every action and decision without question. And rhys hasn't done anything for the improvement of women's position socially or economically at all (we all know the state of the illyrian camps) in all the 500 yrs he's been high lord. Apart from Rhys, the inner circle has 2 women in the highest leadership positions and even they havent done anything and have even ignored the plight of women under their jurisdiction, (mor with Hewn city) I dont even think amren cares about anything besides her jewels tbh. So it's fair to assume that feyre will follow in those very footsteps. She already has biased and low views on the illyrians and people who reside in hewn city to the point where she participates in the 'pimp and whore' act that she puts on t deal with them. And we've never seen her speak to illyrian women so to her their voices and autonomy dont matter.

Male feminism in the IC

The only male who can be seen as being feminist in the series is Cassian because aside from simply declaring that wing clipping is illegal, he actually does the ground work to ensure it doesn't happen by offering the women to train with him. Though this is a weak cure for the issues the women face in Illyria, it's a start and far more work than anything the other characters have done in the name of women empowerment.

Another so called feminist figure in the series is rhysand. Why he's described as such defeats me, but I'll go through some points to prove that hes nothing of the sort.

1. He created a library for sexual assault survivors.

Though this is a nice effort, it can't be described as feminism because he doesnt extend the same courtesy to the other women in his territory and is only concerned with women in Velaris. Supporting women who worship you isnt feminism isnt feminism either and we know that the entirety of Velaris see the IC as blameless gods. Based on mors history, its obvious that the women in hewn city are suffering just as much if not more but hes forsaken them to live under mors parents/abusers rule. And creating a safe house for sexual assault survivors isnt as much feminism as it is human decency. Especially considering how much money hes got.

2. Banning illyrian wing clipping

Wing clipping is still a pandemic in the illyrian camps meaning that he didnt put enough provisions to ensure that it stops. Passing a law and ensuring that it is followed are two different things and rhys clearly dowsnt know the distinction. An additional point regarding illyrian women is that it was mentioned in acofas that they were joining the men in rebelling, and if that doesnt say anything about their feelings with him being high lord and how he doesnt cater to them, then I dont know what does. This also speaks to the point of the assumption that women of color dont have agency in their own societies. He said something like the men 'manipulated' the women into joining their rebellion, which insinuates that they can't think for themselves and are completely voiceless and this is a factor of whit feminism, the belief that WOC colour cant speak for themselves and are meek and susetable to being controlled or manipulated. It is a huge possibility that the women can't really express their opinions because they are suppressed by their men, however we dont see rhys interacting with any women and getting their opinion on things. He assumes that they are forced into everything and though we havent gotten the book yet I'm gonna say this is false. The reason being if rhys was such a good high lord and cared for women's issues, why would the women side with their 'abusive' men instead of their so called benevolent high lord?

3. Rhys appointed women in his IC

First of all, appointing women based on merit and qualifications is feminism, not appointing family members and you underaged bride just because 'you love her'. Though mor and amren may be qualified, and that's a massive 'maybe', they haven't done anything to improve the lives of women. Like their high lord they are complacent and Hewn city and illyria are more than enough to prove this. What rhys has essentially done is nepotism and corruption and no one can convince me otherwise.

Going further on the inner circle women, rhys was willing to sacrifice these very women to achieve his goal and this is self serving and anti feminist. The first being abusing feyre UTM and then using her as bait for the attor, then later making a deal with eris even though he knows his history with mor. If anyone believes that these actions are remotely feminist or excusable, then feminism is not for you and need help because its abusive and patriachal.

In conclusion rhys isnt feminist, mor isnt feminist, amren isnt feminist, feyre isnt feminist, azriel isnt even in the conversation and cassian is the only one scratching the surface. Also, white feminism is an exclusive and limited way to portray and execute feminism, women getting leadership positions based on their proximity to men just advances the false notion that women can only succeed if they 'sleep' their way to the top and just because a woman is in a leadership space, thag doesnt make that state of affairs inherently feminist because women are also carriers of patriarchy.

I tried to sum up my points but for more on white feminism, feminist intersectionalites and how being female doesnt make a person feminist, I advice you read Bell Hooks' writings because she touches on these topics in far better ways than I can.