#anyway from experience: please do consider the image of all 3 of them desperately trying to trip HIM up by just

[narwhalandchill]

while the scenarios are obviously sweet and all i have to say every single person whose conceptualization of ajax playing in the snow with his little siblings begins and ends at just this innocent happy fun time of snow castles sledding and ice fishing Clearly hasnt been hunted for sport by an older brother twice your size and five times stronger with the explicit intent of grabbing you by the coat and just fucking hurling your ass into the nearest (very thick and soft dw) snow pile the second your vigilance slips bc he thinks its funny. or watched your step non stop lest you get tripped face first into the snow when ur literally just making ur way to the store together. or been helplessly outmatched in both strength and accuracy for impromptu snowball fights (until obligatory avoid a Situation pity moment when he just stands there and lets you hit him point blank for righteous payback). wintertime is a sibling war zone and Mr childe ajax tartaglia is a menace dont get it twisted and somehow think these things arent also happening on the regular alongside the cutesy stuff actually. Please keep tonia anthon and teucer in your thoughts and prayers theyre 100% going Thru it every year

[imbellarosa]

Let’s Talk Calm-ly about Two Loves

OR: When you’re a grown man who writes stories for a living, you definitely wrote your own weird bedtime story, too. 

The TLDR here is that H has taken one specific listener around the globe, notably to Tokyo and Jamaica. He quotes an old Victorian Poet who was an awful human but who’s lasting legacy is the phrase “a love that dare not speak its name” which is - you guessed it - a reference to queer love. He also is super excited to spend what seems like the foreseeable future with this listener and has bought a little house with a garden of daisies with them and it’s very sweet and domestic. Anyways this is a wild time and it’s all under a cut because it’s...really a lot. 

Anyways I think the people I owe thank yous this times around to are @queenlokibeth​ who had to listen to me scream about this for a while, Astrid, who screamed with me when this came out, and “M” who convinced me to finally get to work in this fandom. And, of course, all of the lovely people tagged below who’s work I used to build my argument. 

1.) Who Wrote “Dream With Me”? 

Well, not H, or so the story goes. Two other people (Steve Cleverly and Sanj Sen) did! I mean, right, okay, for a while I was like...that seems like an odd choice for a man who didn’t want to hand Two Ghosts over to his own band because it seemed too personal. He wrote on every song in both albums’ he’s released thus far, because he seems to be passionate about telling the stories he wants to tell (even if he won’t tell you explicitly what they’re about). But for a while, I was totally going with the flow there, and the rest of this analysis would still stand: the writer of this story definitely referenced a poem by Lord Alfred Douglas and Harry’s own songs. 

However, I then read this fun quote from the Co-founder and CEO of Calm: 

“Well,” he said, “The the Harry Styles one is interesting because that came purely from Harry Styles himself...we took the approach of creating a sort of musical epic poem – he doesn’t sing, it’s spoken with poetry, but there’s a sort of musical sound bed to it and it’s pulling on things and themes that Harry’s fans really adore about him and associate with him. So his story was driven really by him – we really created a concept around him.” 

-  Chris Advansun, July 7th, 2020 via @hlupdate​

And I thought, hmmm. This does not sound like a project that he was not involved in creating. From this point on (July, 7th 2020), I began to think of it as a three way co-collaboration between him and the other two authors. But this confused me a bit, because there was largely a nonreaction from the fandom. I was waiting for an actual transcript, because I always fall asleep to these meditation stories, but it was being referenced to as some sort of Y/N fic, which was...honestly not what I expected, but also not implausible, thanks to the ~lovely~ image this man has had since the age of sixteen. But also, twitter seemed to be concerned by other things at the moment, and no one was analyzing the story. . 

In fact, I messaged a friend the day that this story dropped, because it had been kind of a shit show day on Twitter. Rumors were sort of flying about everyone and everything: had Liam shaved his head? Was he engaged? Had he and Maya broken up? Were Zayn and Gigi engaged? Had they broken up? Did Niall have a girlfriend? (this one was true lol). Were Elounor engaged? Were they pregnant? Had they broken up??? My personal fav was the bald Liam rumor, which he promptly put to rest in LP Act 1 by...having a huge mane of hair. 

So then I thought - huh. Why has today looked like this? I’m not saying that there aren’t days that twitter goes wild because of boredom, because there definitely is - the articles about secret meetings in Italy that are coming out this week (8/12/2020) are proof positive. So that definitely does happen, but it doesn’t usually happen on the days that there’s a lot of content. And maybe I’ve just been starved for content in this fandom, but I would consider a 40 minute video quite a bit of content. 

Then the transcript dropped. I’m using two as references - this one on Wattpad and also @carl-and-pearl ‘s version here (thank you so much for the transcript!!). We’re going to get into a more detailed description of what’s going on in the story, but the first thing I recognized immediately is that it was first person POV. I knew that going in, based on the number of Y/N jokes going around on twitter. Then I read it aloud, and I realized that it read like a letter. Like an experience specific to the writer and the reader. And while that’s not super uncommon to write about an experience from the author’s POV - I listen to a podcast called Nothing Much Happens: bedtime stories for adults which has a similar concept - I thought it was odd that they were trying to include both the author and the listener. I completely understood why the y/n jokes were pertinent. But at the same time, it felt like something had snagged in my mind - like a particularly annoying splinter. 

The conversations I was having around this story - completely based on the content, concept, and my own instinct - was that this story contained specific references to one person. I thought that it did read like a love letter, and that most identifying features would have been taken out, but the essence remained. Which, once I thought about it, was something that H excelled at doing. Think about Sunflower Vol 6 and Adore You and Canyon Moon and even Watermelon Sugar and Golden.  Ask yourself, What do I know about the person they are about? They have skin that browns, they have a secret, they have mesmerizing eyes, they’re willing to dance in the kitchen with him (to dancehall), they have a belly, they’ve been through hard times, they’re witty, they have an accent, and they have lips. I know - super specific right?

So the splinter grew into a thorn - what was I missing? And then - when I was looking for something completely different - I stumbled upon this old interview Harry did with Zach Sang and the Gang Show back in 2017.  For context, he was being asked about Sweet Creature. As you can imagine, it’s hard for people to believe he wrote such a beautiful love song when he hadn’t ever really had a long term relationship (two hearts in one home?? Who did you move in with, you can imagine them asking. When did you have time?). So what did he have to say about this?

"In my opinion,” he explained, “I think most songs are written for one listener. Maybe there's one thing in there that only they'll notice about them.... It's so much easier to say something in a song than it is to say it to someone and I think it's really amazing to be able to communicate through that and be able to wrap up everything that you want to say in three and a half minutes and say it in a song."

- HS, May 3 2017

By this time, please believe that I was screeching. Seeing this felt like he put into words the exact feeling I had about “Dream With Me”. It felt like a nod to someone that I didn’t know, which made the story hard to listen to, tbh. Although, I will say that when I did finally listen to it, it knocked me out and gave me odd dreams so. Once was enough for me haha! 

So my new operating theory is exactly what Advansun said: I think that H was the primary writer/the driving force behind the story. Because of the references I’m about to run through, because it feels like the way he tells stories, and because they admitted to him being more involved than they originally claimed. That’s going to be how I write the rest of the analysis - under the impression that H had a direct hand in the story that was being put forth. However, I think that the analysis itself would stand whether or not he wrote any of it. It would just be a more tenuous reflection of him than I believe it to be. 

2.) How Do I Love Thee? In Two Ways. 

Before I jump into the story, let’s talk a little about the poem that I want to compare it to: Two Loves, by Lord Alfred Douglas.  Let’s be clear this is not at all a defense of who Bosie was - he was a terrible person, particularly in his later years, when he’d converted to Catholicism and turned his back on his younger self, and his partner, Oscar Wilde. He was violently anti-Semitic, and turned his back on his own community. I want to get this out of the way because I very much believe that we should examine artists for who they are. That is, after all, what I am trying to do here. 

But his poem Two Loves has often been used - much to his disappointment, I’m sure - as an exploration of queer love in Victorian times. A line that I will be exploring more deeply in a second was in fact used against Oscar Wilde in his trail for indecency . He attempted - unsuccessfully - to explain it away, but it was too blatantly about their relationship for even the British Victorian society to ignore. I really, really recommend a read of this poem, because it is - despite it’s author - a good piece of work, which explores the themes of shame and love and longing between two men in that time. 

I’m going to start with my own background, as someone who’s analyzed fandoms before. I first came across this poem in the Sherlock fandom, with this analysis by @the-7-percent-solution​, when I was running in that fandom, and she explains the poem brilliantly in just a few lines. I’m going to take a little longer to run through it, but if you want a concise explanation and a brilliant meta, I encourage you to run to their blog and check it out. That fandom taught me most everything I know about catching symbols and recurring themes and “clueing for looks” and I love it desperately, still. 

But we’re here to talk about this fandom, so on with the poem! Essentially, the poem outlines a dream the speaker had: In his dream, he’s standing in a field with flowers - beautiful ones of all kind - and he meets this young man with clear blue eyes and bright red lips and they kiss a bit and have a picnic, and it’s all lovely. If you think I’m kidding, I’m really not. Please, read it for yourself. 

Anyways, after they did they did the whole picnic thing, the speaker and his date go on a walk in this field, where they come across two figures. The first is described as, 

“...fair and blooming, and a sweet refrain Came from his lips; he sang of pretty maids And joyous love of comely girl and boy, His eyes were bright, and 'mid the dancing blades Of golden grass his feet did trip for joy; And in his hand he held an ivory lute With strings of gold that were as maidens' hair, And sang with voice as tuneful as a flute, And round his neck three chains of roses were.” 

- Two Loves, 1894

The speaker, however, was drawn to the second figure: 

“He was full sad and sweet, and his large eyes Were strange with wondrous brightness, staring wide With gazing; and he sighed with many sighs That moved me, and his cheeks were wan and white Like pallid lilies, and his lips were red Like poppies, and his hands he clenched tight, And yet again unclenched, and his head Was wreathed with moon-flowers pale as lips of death. A purple robe he wore, o'erwrought in gold With the device of a great snake, whose breath Was fiery flame..”

- Two Loves, 1984

Of course, the speaker immediately asks the second man who he is. The second man says, “My name is Love”. The first man corrects him quickly: 

“ He lieth, for his name is Shame, But I am Love, and I was wont to be Alone in this fair garden, till he came Unasked by night; I am true Love, I fill The hearts of boy and girl with mutual flame.”

-Two Loves, 1984

The second man sighs and acquiesces, “Have thy will. I am the love that dare not speak its name.” 

It was, of course, this last line that really gave the meaning of the poem away. It was the line that was put to Oscar Wilde as proof of a romantic relationship, it was the line that went down in history as a way to refer to queer love, and it was the line that first stuck out to me when I was reading “Dream With Me”. 

The reading here is clearly that “Love” is the love that is acceptable to society - easy, sweet, and cherished. “Shame” is the love that happens in secret - beautiful, alluring to the speaker, passionate, anxious ( as can be seen in the clenching and unclenching of his hands), and proud. He refuses to call himself as anything but what he is. The first man may call him Shame, but he refuses the name, and instead, offers a qualifier to his own descriptor. He is still love, he is just the love that can’t be spoken about. 

3.) Walking in Golden Fields of Sunflowers

Now let’s talk about “Dream With Me”. I’m ignoring the first few stanzas (from the line “Have you ever wondered” to “What the two of us can find”.) because those are pretty standard introductory paragraphs to a guided meditation. So we start with the line “Let’s travel now to moonlit valleys...”. 

I’m going to do the same thing I did with “Two Loves” first. I am going to describe literally, in general terms, what happens in the story. Warning, I change pronouns from “they” to “you” because the whole thing confuses me, but note that I’m always talking about the speaker and the listener: 

So after doing the standard intro, the speaker and the listener take a walk through the woods enjoying nature, particularly the grass, the trees, and the blue sky above. You’re already clearly in love. Then you’re magically on a raft, with cherry blossoms all around you. If you want a good visual for that, here’s a site that has pictures from a boat rental in Tokyo where you can snuggle on a raft in the  Chidorigafuchi moat. And then suddenly it starts raining, and they (you) watch the rain for a hot second, and then the scene magically shifts again, and you’re under a porch (although I guess it could be the boat rental’s porch. They do usually have covered areas). 

Kind of furthering that theory, they then lounge by the shoreline, skipping stones and hanging out, looking at the snow capped mountains. In case you’re curious, because at this point I sure was, you can see mountains from certain areas in the city of Tokyo. 

Anyways, then it’s snowing, and you’re magically in a cabin, just chilling by the fire, and you fall asleep again. You wake up somewhere else.

Where are you now? Well, you’re on a tropical island filled with palm trees. As an American, my mind immediately jumps to the Caribbean, but I suppose it could absolutely be in the Mediterranean as well. The island has white beaches, mangroves, a turquoise ocean, and a gorgeous, peaceful atmosphere. 

If you’re curious as to what a mangrove looks like - and I certainly was - they are a group of trees and shrubs that live in the coastal intertidal zone and Jamaica is doing a massive restoration project involving primary school children to regrow this vital part of their ecosystem. More interestingly, there currently exist no mangrove forests in the Mediterranean, so my initial feeling that this scene would take place in the Caribbean was correct. On that note - again, because I was curious - Jamaica has gorgeous white sand beaches with turquoise oceans. 

But I’ve gone off topic again! After you’re minds are “in tune” once more (trying to find a heartbeat, anyone?), you reappear in a meadow, with beautiful flowers of all kind, where you are now walking hand in hand through a field of sunflowers, which give the feeling a “warm and golden hue”. Then you come across a little farmhouse with daisies poking out (clearly I have no way of locating this anywhere in the world, but I assume that the UK has both sunflowers and daisies). It’s an empty house which was loved and left because of the passage of time, which inspires my favorite line in the poem: “ The thought of passing time inspires/A feeling that grows stronger”. It’s just...really sweet to me. 

So, of course, they do what anyone would do when they come across an empty farmhouse, they go inside. And there, they begin to fall asleep, reflecting on all they have just seen, referencing other scenes of the poem: “ Moonlit valleys, Burdened forests, Gazing at the ocean. Summer meadows, Tranquil sunsets steeped in emotion”. 

The next few stanzas are just going to be copy-pasted, and then I’ll go into them a bit, but this is the end of the poem, so they’re the final reflections;

“The tenderness we feel When we are close Two minds as one Surrounds us and connects us But we’ve only just begun.

For now we dream together Of all there is to follow. And know that sleep will keep us safe From now until tomorrow.

Maybe all the memories That we’ve gathered here tonight Are all dreams now remembered Or wishes in plain sight.

No matter what They’re with us now. For this night and forever. And every time we close our eyes They’re yours and mine to treasure.” 

- HS, Dream With Me, via @carl-and-pearl​

And that’s it! The literal story, in short, is that you started in a forest, then went to Tokyo (maybe) and then Jamaica (perhaps) and then back to a field of sunflowers and daisies in the UK (which is also a guess, it could be Italy or France or Idaho for all I know, but let’s call it an educated guess). 

4.) My Dream Journal

So now that we know what happens in the story, how do we interpret this? Well, There are a few lines in the poem that I want to draw your attention to: the first takes place in the first part of this story, when you’re still in the forest. This is, I must say, the most direct reference to Two Loves in the whole poem/song/story. Both works are describing a walk in the woods with your loved one, and, in a fun reference in the middle of the story, Dream With Me says

The shimmering reflection Shows us smiling from above. But what we think But dare not speak is L-O-V-E love.

-Dream With Me, 2020

Remember that line I mentioned before? I am the love that dare not speak its name. Right, so that’s almost a direct quote. It also has a really fun nod to “I Would” (Would he say he’s in L-O-V-E?/Well if it was me then I would), but I digress. 

This first part of the narrative, I feel, really sets up what the rest of it will look and feel like, in the same way that “Golden” sets the tone for Fine Line. (You didn’t think I was going to make a post about Harry and NOT mention Golden, did you?? If you did, I’m disappointed!!). So  let’s take a look at what’s happening, and the language he’s using to describe it. 

One of the best things about this poem is how vivid it feels. Of course, I’m about to argue that it’s vivid because it was based in reality, but let’s talk about the sheer amount of detail he uses to describe the place he’s walking through. The valley (canyon lmao) is moonlit, the grass and the leaves make mosaics of green, you’re walking by the heather (the symbolism of heather is good luck, admiration, and protection), the sepia sunlight breaks through the trees. 

You know what it kind of sounds like? Sweet Creature. You’re about to roll your eyes at me! I can feel it! But listen, okay?  

“Sweet creature Running through the garden Oh, where nothing bothered us But we're still young I always think about you and how we don't speak enough”

Which, to be honest, sounds like what they’re doing. They’re walking through the garden in the sun, not daring to speak about the Love that he (they both) feel, and instead refering to it in veiled Victorian terms. 

And then we head to Tokyo! I know that you’re about to ask me why I think it’s Tokyo versus...idk, anywhere else? Well, for one, he went to Tokyo (to let it go) publicly in 2019. He was there for a few months, and there are some great pictures of that time: 

Look! Here he is with his club owner friend and his dog, and a fun red bandanna! But let’s be honest, the dog really steals the show here. But wait! there’s more! More dog content, too!

This was on Jan 31st, 2019, and he’s taking the dog for a walk! Very cute! If nothing else, he spent a lot of time with dogs in Tokyo! And the city fits the description of the story. So I feel rather comfortable with my interpretation that this first date is a memory of this trip - or another - to Tokyo. 

So what did “you both”do in Tokyo? Well, chill on a raft while the cherry blossoms flutter around you, clearly. You also refocused your purpose. What did he do in Tokyo in 2019? Well, he took time to think about and write songs for the album he was about to go record. Kind of like refocusing on what’s next, right? And then, in the story when “you both” had time to think amongst the lake and the water and the rain and the moon, and you’d come to the conclusions you needed to, you left. What did he do when he did the things he needed to? Well, he left, too. 

And where did he go? Well, in real life, I suppose he went to do his job. But, in the story, you’re meant to be falling deeper and deeper into sleep, so it’s sort of like traveling backwards, you see? Like counting down to one. So you end up on this island with turquoise ocean and mangrove forests. I’m calling this Jamaica. Why? Well, the description fits, for one, down to the four types of mangroves that exists within its ecosystem. 

And - probably the biggest reason - I can place him there, too. Here’s him in 2017:

I added this picture because the water around him....looks rather turquoise, doesn’t it? Kind of like he’s enjoying his time on a tropical island by the beach?? Oh, and here’s another one!: 

The red bandanna makes a comeback! 

So what are you doing in Jamaica, according to the story? Well, you’re hanging out, basically. Enjoying the beach and each other, of course!  What else? To be exact, “[Your] thoughts dovetail and unify/ In tune two minds together”. I’m so glad that you’re tuned like an old guitar now! Congrats! Really happy for you! 

What was he doing in Jamaica three years ago? Why, he was recording his first album, or so the story goes. I’ll tell you something: finding press for that album was literally the most difficult part of this whole analysis. I got a fair bit of the tattoo roulette with Kendall Jenner, and some things about Carolina, but the interview with Zach Sang took me like an hour and a half to find again to link. The fact that a lot of it has been buried is...not great, for posterity purposes. He’s going to want that one day. 

But I’ve gotten off track again! We gotta go back and finish our story, right? What happens now? Well, this does: 

hahahaha okay, I’m really sorry, but I had to. I’m not, actually, making it up though! According to the story: 

“ As minutes turn to hours We drift off somewhere new. And visualize a stairway To a door we now walk through”

- Dream With Me, 2020

So maybe Louis was just...demonstrating for you. 

Anyways! Where do you walk out to? A golden field full of sunflowers. You walk for a minute, then come across an old house with daisies popping up out of the garden. And that’s where the story ends. I guess you’ve made that farmhouse feel like home. 

Now to the little reflection he does on the outro. The lines I want to bring your attention are: “The tenderness we feel when we are close two minds as one surrounds us and connects us but we’ve only just begun” and “Maybe all the memories that we’ve gathered here tonight are all dreams now remembered or wishes in plain sight.”

Let’s talk about the first sentence first. In the context of finding a home that could be a shared home, and a future, this is very much an “end of the story, beginning of our lives” sort of thing. You’re back from all over, and it’s time to settle down, and see what’s next. 

And now the second sentence. I think this is the one that really drives my point about this story being a collection of memories he has - that’s what he calls it. The story is “gathered memories” that might also be called “remembered dreams” (think of how people say of vacations, “oh it was a dream!”) or you might call it “wishes in plain sight”. This feels in line with the rest of the story. In this stanza, he’s sort of letting you in a bit. If I’ve read this right - and I really think that I have - he’s giving the larger context for the story. It’s a collection of memories he’s had with someone he loves. 

5.) Cool! Can you prove it? 

I mean, I’d argue that if you read this far, I have proved it, but let’s make some more links, shall we? This was called a “muscial epic” that was “driven by him”. I’d argue that if I know my Victorian literature (thank you, Sherlock!), then he definitely does. Then there’s the fact that he quoted it, so. That did happen. And he knows what it means. And even if he didn’t, there were two other people on the story. Someone was more than capable of catching that one, and the fact that they didn’t speaks to intent. They want you to think of that phrase when you read this poem. They want you to think of that walk in the woods while you’re going on this one. 

And, as for my assumption that this is for and about one person, well. Think about it. He said that he writes his songs for a single listener. I’m not saying it’s the same listener each time, let’s get that right, but it is always just for one person. With that, and with the assumption that he’s been involved in the writing of this story, I’d say that the same rule applies. He went with someone to Japan and Jamaica (J^2 haha). And, if I had to guess, it was the same person. 

Why, you ask? Well, for one, if that weren’t the case, then this poem would no longer be for one listener, it would be for multiple. And, for another, imagine how awkward it would be to listen to it with his current partner and have to explain “oh, yeah that was the super romantic vacation I took with someone else” . And, I suppose that because I think that attitude of “refocusing” and “dovetailing” and “tuning” and getting excited about imagining all of the tomorrows with your partner speaks to a long term relationship breathing easily, you know? 

I’m also going to argue that describing the aura around the house as “golden” was intentional, especially when paired with the location - in the middle of a field of sunflowers. Those are both direct references to his songs. And those two songs are particularly linked by the number 28. The third song that features 28 is Fine Line the song, but that’s a different story. Anywho! “Golden”’s bridge just repeats the word ‘golden’ twenty eight times (if you go here , you can count the bridge) and “Sunflower Vol. 6″ ends the song with 28 “boops” (believe me, I wish I was making this up. I’m not.). So then, once again, you’ve linked a story to two already linked songs. 

And, even if you don’t buy the intentional repetition, they’re linked another way, aren’t they? The color scheme and the sun symbol. Sunflowers were named because of their sun-like appearance. They turn to face it. They symbolize loyalty and adoration. And then, of course, the sun is - say it with me - golden. And it - like the person in golden - waits in the sky, beautiful and dangerous and constant. And here that symbol is, in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. At home. 

This whole story feels like you’re taking the time to find that heartbeat that you think you might have lost, and sort of coming back to a space where you understand that this is what you want, now and forever. It feels like finding a home that could be yours forever, and it feels like walking through some of the moments that remind him of that. 

It really is rather lovely, if you think about it, especially since he has a tendency to attribute “home” to people rather than place, in his songs. So it’s like. Going all around the world and always being at home. 

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Here is the first one

Second :D

And last..he's looking at you 👀💦

ALRIGHT you know WHAT—

There’s…a lot going on here. So much so, that I have decided to create

CONTEXT

for these three images that is

COMPLETELY FAKE

because I think it’ll be a fun writing exercise. kind of a cringe move on my part, but consider: i have fun making up ridiculous lies about characters who don’t exist in real life.

(which is how I’m treating these, by the way. yes, they are pictures of kaneko nobuaki, but for my purposes, they are NOT actually him. they are distinct fictional characters who are not real.)

so if you’re feeling adventurous skip below the cut and watch me break it down:

Image 1: Accidental “Date” Makes Cousin’s Wedding Less Terrible Than Originally Expected

The year is 1999. Your cousin (who you are not particularly close to) is getting married…on a cruise ship. Your mother insists you attend. You insist upon spending 90% of your time sipping margaritas on the deck and flipping through the latest issue of Marie Claire while trying desperately not to think about the fact that you are surrounded by nothing but open ocean.

One of the (very drunk) bridesmaids tries to toss you a beach ball because you have been, and I quote: like, a total bummer this whole time. She misses. It hits the person next to you in the face. Great. Awesome. You think: well now who’s being, like, a total bummer?

Luckily the person who got hit in the face laughs the entire thing off. He says your friends seem…’lively.’ You say that’s pretty rich coming from a guy who looks like a rejected member of ‘The Clash.’ He insists that he left them, not the other way around.

You slip into conversation. You tell him that you’re here for a wedding. He offers his condolences. You accept them. He says he actually likes weddings—something about two people making a life-changing commitment speaks to him on a soul-level. That and the open bar, of course.

You suggest he crash the wedding. He says he’s not sure if he can make it—there’s a shuffleboard tournament that evening that he would just hate to miss, plus the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest is waiting on his bedside table just begging to be opened. You say that’s perfectly understandable, but, if he suddenly finds himself caught up on the latest All My Children gossip, he can meet you back here at four.

Surprise, surprise: he shows up. He’s wearing the same shirt he was before, but buttoned up this time—and with one of the most hideous neckties you’ve ever seen, which he apparently borrowed from the kind old man next door. Instead of complimenting his attire (because it is truly un-compliment-able), you take the opportunity to mention that this is a Titanic-themed wedding. He says that having a Titanic-themed wedding on a cruise ship is “kind of fucked up” and you solemnly agree.

Everyone is very surprised and pleased to see that you’ve brought a date—even the bride, who tells you that you’re “just like Jack and Rose.” You agree, much to her delight…until you say that, if the ship goes down, you also won’t share the door and let him freeze to death in the icy water. He insists he’d be the guy who jumps off the ship and hits his leg on the propellor—that’s his favorite part of the whole movie, and it’d be an honor to re-enact the scene.

The wedding is…a wedding. Vows, toasts, pictures—and you’re sipping champagne through the entire thing. The two of you spend the evening getting completely wasted and telling everyone a different story about just who your ‘mystery date’ is. Highlights include: the captain’s unruly son whose been tasked with following in his father’s sea-faring footsteps; professional cave-diver who discovered a new species of slug and is spending his reward money on a nice vacation; head of marketing who gives all those clever names to the nail polishes at OPI; the guy who folds everyone’s towels into animal shapes.

You end up where you started: on neighboring lounge chairs, with a margarita, and talking to this stranger who has recently crossed into “acquaintance” territory. You chat about how “My Heart Will Go On” is actually a good song, and he promises not to tell anyone that you said that. He also says that this is the best Titanic-themed cruise ship wedding he’s ever been to, and he can’t wait until somebody decides to do Jaws.

Eventually, you both stagger back to your rooms with promises of seeing each other at breakfast. Unfortunately, you have the worst hangover of your life the next morning and even the thought of ‘breakfast’ makes you want to roll over and die, so you don’t manage to stumble out of bed until it’s time to disembark.

You see him at port, and you each offer each other a little wave before going your separate ways. Six weeks later, you get a Polaroid of the two of you together, sitting at the bar and laughing at something that must have been very, very hilarious.

You don’t remember most of what happened that night, but you remember it was not as terrible as it could have been.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 2: Extremely Weird Guy On The Street Has You Questioning Your Sanity

It’s 6:00 in the morning—a truly terrible time to be awake, but a necessary evil. Your flight leaves at 10, and since it’s an international thing, you want to make sure you get there in plenty of time to get to your gate (and maybe sample all the fancy perfumes you can’t afford at one of those high-end stores that are always in airports.)

The streets are mostly empty, save for a few random pedestrians and a handful of passed-out salarymen snoozing on the curb. The sky a rainy gray-blue as the sun tries to rise behind the springtime cloud cover—it’s no doubt going to be another dismal day, as is common during this time of year. Hopefully there’s not too much turbulence on your flight…

You stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the little walking man signal to show up on the light across the way. You’re soon joined by another person—a man in a soft-looking jacket who supplies you with a small “good morning” bob of his head. You respond in kind, throwing in a small smile for good measure. It’s nice that he too understands that it’s entirely too early to be having any kind of conversation, even if it is just a simple verbal greeting between strangers on a street corner.

The light changes, and you both begin your trek across the street. Your fellow walker is faster than you—or, more likely, has longer legs and, ergo, a longer stride than your own—and is nearly halfway across by the time you get your wheeled suitcase over the curb. He seems decent enough. You hope he’s going somewhere nice.

It’s then that you make the mistake of looking up. It would have been much better if you had just continued watching the white painted lines on the road and thinking about how it reminds you of piano keys—and how you hated the six months of piano lessons your parents forced you to take in the first grade.

But no. You noticed someone walking towards you, and you just had to look up.

The first thing you notice is a rainbow tie-dye shirt. The second thing you notice is that the rainbow tie-dye shirt is on a very cheerful looking gentleman, who seemed to be bobbing his head in time with a song only he could hear.

The third thing you notice—and this one’s the real kicker—is the large blue-and-green reptile sitting on his shoulder. It’s bulging eyes are hooded in pleasure as it’s red-pink tongue darts out to eat the green something—maybe a grape or a small piece of melon?—from the rainbow tie-dye man’s hand. It is nothing short of a spectacle, honestly, and you feel a piece of your sanity evaporate.

The rainbow tie-dye man continues on, uncaring of your confused stare at his strange pet. You even turn around to make sure that you weren’t somehow hallucinating, and sure enough, there is definitely some kind of creature draped over this stranger’s shoulder. It’s tail even sways in time with the man’s steps, which is both cute and confusing.

Because it would not do to stand in the middle of the street all day, considering the existence of rainbow tie-dye man and his exotic pet, you do the only thing you can do: turn back around and continue on your journey. You need a coffee. Maybe with an extra shot of espresso, after witnessing whatever the hell that was. Something to set you right again.

“Was that…?”

The other man—the soft-coat long-stride one—is speaking low enough as to not draw attention, but loud enough for you to hear as you make your way towards the sidewalk. His expression reads ‘concerned, but trying not to show it’ which you suppose is the polite and mature way of handling the situation.

“…an iguana? Yeah,” you answer him, “I saw it too.”

The man’s brow furrows. His mouth puckers into a small frown as he considers…well, something.

“…Okay, then,” he concludes, shrugging his shoulders, “Hell of a way to start the day.”

“Yeah.”

And you both continue on your way. He turns left at the next intersection, you turn right—but even though your paths may now be different, you will forever share an unbreakable bond over the fantastical sight you’ve witnessed today.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 3: Near Death Experience At Open Mic Night

You are not a poet.

Well, not professionally, anyways. You’ve been known to dabble in the written word, often scribbling little snippets of rhyme in a notebook over your lunch break or tapping a verse or two into the notes app on your phone. It a kind of outlet, you suppose—a way to keep the creative energy that bubbles inside of you from boiling over.

It’s also worth mentioning that you are not a confident public speaker. Not since that unfortunate incident in the third grade where you forgot the single line you had in the school play and ran off stage, tears streaming down your face and—actually, no, you’re not going to think about that right now. Or ever again, hopefully.

So when your (tipsy) coworkers decide that it’s a good idea to push you onto the stage at the local dive bar’s open mic night—while shouting at you to “read the one about the night-blooming jasmine”—you freeze up. There are at least seven strangers staring at you, expectation rising with every passing second of your inaction. It’s nerve-wracking in the way that the third-grade incident was not, and you gulp against the nervousness that rises in your throat.

Shaking hands scroll frantically through your phone, looking for the requested poem—and after a few agonizing moments, you manage to find it. Your voice cracks rather embarrassingly as you begin to read, trying your damndest to get the words out right so you can slink back to the bar and drown the rest of the night in Chardonnay.

Everything is going well—or, at least, as well as can be expected—until you notice that the room is suddenly feeling very hot. That’s the last coherent thought you have before the room goes dark and everything falls silent.

Next thing you know, you’re staring at the ceiling. A man who you do not know is leaning over you, and his mouth is moving—oh, he’s probably trying to say something to you, but it’s very difficult to tell what he’s saying over the throbbing pain in the back of your head.

You ask him if you’re dead. It’s a possibility after all, that you’ve somehow died and landed yourself in some kind of special public-speaking hell. That’s what this feels like, anyways.

The man says no, you are not dead. You say ‘dammit’ in response. He tries to hold back laughter, offering to help you up by extending his hand. You take it and—ouch, ugh, ew, going from laying to standing is not a fun experience.

You thank him (albeit awkwardly) for helping you up, and he insists that ‘it’s cool.’ Passing out in front of an audience is not even remotely cool, but you nod and thank him again, anyways.

Before you’re able to converse with the helpful stranger any further, your coworkers have come to collect you. You are whisked away by someone from accounting, who offers to escort you home—an offer you gladly accept, very excited to leave the site of your failure behind you.

Safe to say, you never go back to that particular bar again.

[starcharmfunzies]

Could you please explain to us, in incredibly insane,DEEP detail, why you hate Mickey? From point A to point Z. I’ll get my popcorn ready.

under the cut cause this got long and I'm very passionate about the topic

---

okay so the year is 2010

BbS came out and the fanbase is heartbroken (including myself) over what happened to Terra, Aqua and Ven. At this point in the franchise Mickey although shady seems like a decent dude, so I didn't have any strong opinions towards him, only that he was this mysterious and seemingly OP king. Let's recap though.

In KH1 he wasn't very communicative with Donald and Goofy, but when he finally showed up at the very end it was to close Kingdom Hearts and ngl it was a pretty hype moment. So far so good.

In Re:Chain of Memories he again does not approach Donald and Goofy -and Sora- even though they were still looking for him, but it was for a very good cause as he stayed with Riku to help him fight Ansem Seeker of Darkness. Here I actually thought well of him.

In KH2 he's still being beyond secretive but he finally joins the gang to explain some things and fight alongside everyone to defeat Xemnas. Honestly he's got no bad record so far; he may be a douche sometimes since he barely explains himself but I could understand because of the circumstances.

So BbS happens. We get insight on how he was involved with TAV and I actually felt kinda bad for Mickey since he hadn't been able to do much to help them, and for all he knew in the worst case scenario they all died.

But then in 2011 Re:Coded came out, and with it its secret movie.

In the secret movie Mickey and Yen Sid have the following exchange:

M: Yen Sid, I think we're finally close to figuring out where Ven's heart is.

Y: Is that so? Then that leaves only Terra.

Hold the fuck up. Only Terra? As in, they already knew where Aqua was?

Why hadn't they gone after her then?????

This secret movie left a bitter taste in my mouth. I started questioning everything. For how long had they known? Why hadn't they done anything? What the fuck were they waiting for?

Sadly in 2012 with DDD's release I didn't get answers to any of these questions, and when Mickey told Xehanort that he hoped TAV sacrificing themselves hadn't been in vain it just got me more angry.

How dare you talk about them as if they were dead. How dare you utter Aqua's name when you know damn well where she is and you know damn well that it's almost fucking impossible to get out of that place without help. YOU could help her Michael. But no, you're just talking about her like she was just a bad memory you wanted to forget.

I was pissed.

And I stayed pissed for the next 5 years, with no main games coming out and only my memories of the past games to look back on Mickey's behavior. Since when had he known that Aqua was in the Realm of Darkness? Since KH1 when he helped Sora close the door to Kingdom Hearts? Since Re:Chain of Memories when he was helping Riku overcome his own darkness? Since KH2 when he was infiltrating the Organization? Since way before KH1? Just how long had he been walking around knowing of this and deciding to do nothing about it?

But not only was I angry at Mickey. I was desperate. How long would I be waiting until Aqua was saved? Would she even be saved at all? Information about her was scarce, and BbS volume 2 seemed nothing but a distant dream, but with DDD being the prelude to the final battle against Xehanort I was hopeful the next main game would finally have her involved again.

So you can imagine how excited I was when we got the first trailer for KH 2.8 that included A Fragmentary Passage.

That image of the back of her head gave me hope. Hope that she was still okay, still fighting, and that she would be saved soon.

And on January 2017 we finally found what had happened to her before she made it to that fateful beach.

And boy I wasn't happy.

The reason Mickey knew Aqua was in the Realm of Darkness was because he met her there, right before he helped close Kingdom Hearts. And of course I don't blame him for getting separated from Aqua, it was the demon tower's fault and I understand he couldn't do much being in a hurry and all to get to the door.

But shouldn't he have tried to find her right after???

I get that there's only so much Nomura can tie back to plot-wise as he writes along, but the matter of fact at this point is that:

Mickey stayed with Riku after closing Kingdom Hearts and didn't say a word to him about Aqua.

We don't know whether Mickey tried to search for her or not, but it sure as hell didn't stop him from leaving the Realm of Darkness when he had the chance.

So after escaping the Realm of Darkness Mickey eventually went to Yen Sid and told him he found Aqua, and Yen Sid told him to not try anything yet as they were unprepared to rescue her.

And OF COURSE, this is the one time Mickey decides to listen to him. Not unlike ALL the other times he went around and did whatever the fuck he wanted. Like when he ran away with the star shard in BbS despite Yen Sid telling him not to get involved, or when he went to confront fucking Xehanort and only got saved because of Ven, or when he abandoned Disney Castle without warning to do things by himself and just left a shitty note with a half-assed explanation, or when he jumped after Xemnas into the dark corridor and left behind everyone in Radiant Garden.

Nah, it's this ONE time in particular that Mickey decides to be a goody-two-shoes and not do anything reckless for a change.

Wasn't Aqua his friend? Didn't he form a D-link with her because they got close? Hadn't he done all the dangerous things he did in the past because he wanted to look after those he cared for and loved?

And not only did he decide to do nothing, but he didn't say a THING about her to anyone. So what if Sora and/or Riku planned a reckless rescue? Mickey had already done worse than that! And BESIDES, Sora and Riku did manage to get out of the Realm of Darkness once so they could have very well done it again a second time.

BUT HEY at least 0.2 ended with Mickey and Riku deciding to finally go get Aqua, so there's hope. That is until 2019, another 2 years later, that KH3 comes out. Mickey and Riku finally go to the Realm of Darkness to look for her, but when they get to the beach and find she's not there what does Mickey decide to do?

HE DECIDES TO LEAVE AGAIN.

It's been 10+ years already what's a little more time am I right fellas???

Reminder that Mickey supposedly considers Aqua a friend btw.

Michael you were there in the Realm of Darkness, you know how dangerous it is, you saw how at the verge of giving up Aqua was, and you decide to keep her waiting even more? What the hell is wrong with you?!

It's like he doesn't even care about her at all. It's so unsettling how carefree he is about it.

And you know what? Had Mickey decided to go save Aqua sooner they might have actually gotten to her before her confrontation with Ansem Seeker of Darkness, and they would have spared her plenty of suffering.

But what do I know.

Anyway, Aqua gets saved (by Sora btw, not Mickey), and in the process she calls Mickey out on his bullshit and he agrees he messed up. He even apologized. That did make me feel better, it was cathartic, and although I was still sore about everything he did now that TAV was back together safe and sound I was considering cutting Mickey some slack. I'll give him credit, I did get a little impressed with what he did in Re:Mind. Credit where credit is due.

But then Melody of Memory happened.

sigh

The moment this asshole found out that Riku went by himself to search for Sora to this strange world of unreality what is the first thing he does?

He bolts to the fucking door ready to go after Riku. And had it not been for Donald and Goofy tackling him to the ground he could have very well ran off.

Why wasn't he this worried over Aqua? When he found her she had already spent 10 years in the Realm of Darkness, a very VERY dangerous place. And yet when he made it out he wasn't worried at all and let her stay 2-3 years more in there?? Riku had left like a fucking hour ago and it was enough to have Mickey panicking COME ON. Biased much?

So there you have it. No matter what Mickey does in the future of the franchise I don't think I'll ever have the heart to forgive him. I was willing to do so, but of course he made me change my mind rather quickly.

I'm glad newcomers to the series share these feelings of not being fond of Mickey, but I don't think they'll go through the same experience that the people that followed the games did. Most of us liked Mickey at the beginning, but through the years we realized with horror that we had been deceived, and we were left to wallow in our rage while we hopelessly waited for someone, anyone, to save Aqua.

[capriccio-con-espressione]

Sweet Treat

Genre: Smut

Warning: Sub!Xiaojun, Dom!Reader, Femdom, Temperature play, Food play, Nipple play, Bondage, Edging (for quite a long time lol), (Slight) Spanking, PIV (protected), Handjob, Toys used, Wet and sticky sweets

Word Count: 2395

A/N:

1. This is to celebrate WayV's comeback🎉🎆🎖️🎇🎊🏅🌟 Tho I have already postponed it for too long

2. Xiaojun's surgical mask looks like a damn collar here so I just can't stop my wild imaginations to own him. Goodbye.

3. Schoolwork is fucking killing me asdjfhkjdkhfhjsdkn so this does not guarantee regular updates I am sorry sweeties for keeping you waiting for so long :( 

4. I know this is an old pic, but it is what inspired me to picture him in a lacy black collar :P and it also showed how fucking long I have postponed this fic

5. Anyways Xiaojun is delicious af I love him, and he distracts me from the current catastrophe I am in rn so enjoy this

  The fresh scent of pastry filled the air of your apartment, its sweetness seemingly undertoning a leisurable afternoon tea time, yet your mind is on something else. 

  You take a sip of your freshly brewed black tea, feeling the aroma and warmth coating the inner sides of your mouth, while relishing the sight of the sinful image on the bed. Xiaojun's hands are secured to either side of the bedpost, with his neck adorned in an elegant lacy black collar, back leaning against the headboard, eyes glossy with desperation as the vibrating ring is doing sins to his still fully clothed erection.

  "Pathetic." You remark with a smirk, before drinking a mouthful of the warm liquid again.

Urgent babbles of plead and your title began to roll off Xiaojun's tongue like a mantra, demanding release. You simper seductively while approaching him, dipping your fingers in the glass of iced water settled on the bedside drawer long enough before climbing on the bed to straddle him.

  You exhale a warm gust of air on his exposed cleavage before trailing it with your icy fingers, then shove them under the black fabric to tease his left nipple. As Xiaojun tenses up against the cold sensation, you unbutton more of his shirt and force it open even wider, starting to flick his right nipple with your still hot tongue, and watch the ethereal blonde crumble against the contrasting stimulation with gleeful contentment.

  “You taste so good little cupcake…” You coo as you suck the sensitive bud between your hot damp lips, moaning on it as your cold fingertips tweak the other, causing him to let out delicious whimpers. “Fuck, keep making sounds like that and I’m going to devour you…”

  Xiaojun bites his plump lips to stifle the erotic noises in response, failing to notice he only looks extra alluring doing so. “Such a tease…” You cradle his cheek with your hand, admiring the artwork lovingly, then reach for the glass on the drawer again.

  "This is a little reminder that you shouldn't be fucking with my mind or I will fucking torture you…" You smirk as you slide a small ice cube on his clavicle area, then go up to his neck, lightly tracing it circumferentially in search of the most sensitive spots, eventually tucking the freezing cuboid under his collar after locating one.

  “You like this, hmm? Getting all wet and wrecked...” You deliberately breathed near the cube, causing more liquid to trickle down Xiaojun’s neck, which feels like tendrils of electricity twining around and gradually taking over his body to him. “Do you want this nasty little thing to get in between us, or you want my mouth on you instead?”

  “Please Miss...use your mouth…” The bitter cold temperature on his skin along with the teasingly slow vibrations on his cock both make him crave your touch, or anything directly from you even more.

  “As expected, “ You pull on the collar to remove the ice underneath, making sure to make the lacy fabric slap against him upon release. “but not quite…” You chuckle as you glide the melting substance down his chest, watching him whimper and attempt to steer his torso away from the torment, but to no avail because of the restraints.

  "Ooh looks like my poor baby is suffering...let me warm you up a little…" You mock while trailing your tongue down his previously cooled down regions, as you wickedly work the cube around his areola, triumph overflowing inside you as Xiaojun lets out incoherent breathy moans with his eyes closed, then a much louder one erupts from him as you suddenly suck hard on his flesh as you press the devilish thing right on the most sensitive bud.

  "So easily fucked out, aren't you?" You seductively whisper and nip at his earlobe. "Can't even handle a bit teasing...how am I supposed to enjoy my little dessert if you mess yourself up too soon?" You begin to ruthlessly torture his other nipple with the residue of the cube.

  "Ahhh...please Miss I've been good! Please stop teasing me...please…"

  "Why should I rush? That's not the way how you savor gourmet desserts baby boy…"

  "No, please...just do it already...please Miss I want you…"

  “Hmm... I’m not sure what you mean by that. You have to ditch the euphemism and tell me directly what you want little thing…”

  Xiaojun blushes, both from arousal and embarrassment. “I want your mouth or...that sweet warm cavern ...on me...my…”

  “On which part of you? Hmm?” You darkly chuckle as you grind on him, pretending not to know what he actually means.

  “Ahhh.. my... cock! Please, it hurts so much without you. Please fuck me already…”

  “Really? I thought you want me to touch you tease you feel you up…” You taunt as you switch up the vibrations to the medium setting, making the poor boy gasp and jolt underneath you.

  “No-ahh! You can do whatever you want...just don’t tease me anymore…mmfff”

  “Whatever, huh? Be careful what you wish for my little plaything…” You turn the ring to the highest setting before completely open up his shirt, kissing and licking down his happy trail as you tug the waistbands of both his trousers and boxers, allowing some cool air to get in contact with his bare throbbing length, rendering him into a whimpering squirming mess.

  "Awww looks like my slutty sweetie is impatient to get ravished. But you know, the crust must be tasted first before getting to the filling inside…"

  Your lips linger at his pelvic region, blinking up at him and smirking provocatively with fingers still fondling and groping his clothed neediness despite Xiaojun's pleads. The feeling that how his undergarments are held up open, so teasingly close to some release, yet still denied by you, is driving Xiaojun insane.

  "Please Miss I’m really begging you...mmm...my pathetic cock wants your direct touch…"

  "That's my good boy who knows his place." You sit up, satisfied with his self-degradation, caressing his abdomen as you finally remove his trousers, revealing the white briefs with black bolded "All You Can Eat" printed on the crotch area that you gave him as a gift. One more sinful thing added to the image is the way how his pre-cum has stained the thin briefs to make it slightly transparent, his twitching cock visible underneath.

  "Fuck…" You groan as you wrap your lips around his shaft, before pushing the clothing to the side, making his reddish leaking cock spring free under relentless vibrations.

   “So beautiful and delicious…" You hum between sensual glossal movements around his pulsating heat. "If this is what I get for not eating the marshmallow too soon, I will definitely wait until this sweetness brew into its full bloom every time…" You brush messily along his shaft with slightly parted lips, making sure to taste every part of him as he erotically squirms and whimpers underneath, voice laced with some gratification now that he's finally allowed some light release.

  Xiaojun's blissful moment of relief doesn't last long as it's soon interrupted by a ding echoing in your room. You shoot him a suggestive glance warning him to stay in his place, before getting up to retrieve the nectarous addition to your play.

  You soon return to him with a white chocolate molten lava cake, before pressing a spoon into the exterior while smirking at how his stare is fixed on the buttery liquid oozing out of the collapsing cake.

  "Let's add some sweet dressing to this delicate confection, shall we?" You hum while ridding him of all undergarments, before tilting the platter, allowing the cream to trickle down from his clavicle all the way down to pubic region, the resemblance of its color to something sinful is almost too titillating for you to handle.

  "I can promise that your body is gonna be stained with your own cum exactly like this." You dab the tip of your tongue on a droplet of the melted chocolate on his chest. "But it's after I finish this enticing meal…"

  "Please don't take too long…"

  "Aww this is not for you to decide, pretty boy." You condescendingly reply as you turn off the vibrating ring. "Stay still and obediently let me eat you up at my own pace, and I might consider granting you release sooner."

  You hover your body over him, sensually twirling your tongue on all the spots you know that would drive him crazy from your experience, while lapping, nipping on the sweetness and tasting the texture of his skin.

  You feel your throat go dry because of your burning desires as well as the sticky substance you just consumed. “Get a taste of yourself.” You hum while sloppily twirling your tongue with his, feeling his eager wetness wrapped against you as his head pressed harder toward you, signaling for more contact. Noticing this, you slowly envelop your hand around his throbbing length, jerking it up and down smoothly and sensually, earning teary whines from him in response.

  Soon Xiaojun’s frustration became evident as his hips bucked desperately against you. “Hot and bothered and all mine, how cute.” You slapped the side of his bottom as a warning for him to stay still though you loved the sinful sight so much. “No use trying to seduce me like that,” You got off from his body to prepare for subsequent bliss that drove your mind slightly hazy even just by thinking about it. “this would only get you punished even harder…”

  “Punish me then, Miss...take all that is yours…” Xiaojun’s dick twitched from the sight of you opening the wrapper of the condom, legs parted even wider.

  “Really? I thought you so hate to be controlled…but look at you now acting like a little slut at the mere thought of me fucking you hmm?”

  “I am not-ahh!” Xiaojun’s retort was interrupted by another sharp slap across his bottom.

  “Stop faking because all you seem to enjoy now is to live as my personal favorite snack supply.” You triumphantly glared at him while pressing sloppy kisses against his chocolate-stained skin, all the way from his neck to pelvis while sheathing and lubricating his sensitive flesh, tongue relentlessly flicking around the base of his cock.

  “Please Mistress… I can’t hold it in anymore...please fuck me already pleeaaase…” You know this plead is for real because being the collected person Xiaojun usually is, he must be nearing his edge to beg so blatantly like this, but you were enjoying his suffering too much to give him the release he craved.

  “Poor boy...but I would like to add more seasoning before I finally devour you.” You smirk as you pour spoonfuls of the white chocolate residue on his body again, savoring the arousing sight before proceeding to undress and position yourself on his cock, watching him tremble and gasp under every contact between you.

  You steadily began to bounce on him, leaning down to press wet kisses on his lips and whisper more nasty compliments to him just to make him blush even more, his gorgeous features forming an epitome of orgasmic bliss as you pick up your pace. He looked so ethereal and fairylike, that incited the devilish desire burning inside you to ruin and corrupt. You want you to be the single center of his attention, the only thing that matters to him at this very moment. You want you to be the last and only thing he sees before he gets completely engulfed and submerged under the pleasure you are giving him.

  “I just can’t get enough of you, sweet boy.” You softly coo as you press even closer to him, lapping up some sweet fluids before intruding his mouth with your tongue, your fingers tangled in his hair, as you savored the way how he rocked his hips and moaned against you, as well as the loud snaps and squelching noises of your hips slamming against each other.

  You then coo how much of a good boy he is as you untie him, and the way he quickly wrapped you into a tight embrace as soon as he was freed made your heart flutter. Soaking your fingers with the sauce on his body, you insert them into his mouth as he sucked on them eagerly from time to time in between sensual sloppy kisses. You lost track of how much time your lips and tongues were entwined, the sweet texture of chocolate lubricating and heating up the passion among you, gradually pushing you both to climax.

  You then slowly rode him out of his orgasm, relishing the enticing afterglow as your heartbeat gradually dropped back to its normal pace. After burying your face into the crook of his neck to catch your breath, you intended to get up to clear away the mess, yet Xiaojun’s embrace hindered you from going anywhere.

  “What?” You chided playfully.

  “Miss I am so exhausted because of you...you were so cruel…”

  “Only I get to decide when you could cum, sweetie.” You simpered while ruffling his hair with your other hand cradling his cheek. “You are just so beautiful eyes glossy and totally messed up, I can’t help but torture you until-”

  “Stop!” Xiaojun slapped your arm while rolling away from you giggling.

  “Hmm be in denial like this, next time I shall get some whipped cream on this cherry core-” You began as you reached for his nipple.

  “Ahhhh no!” Xiaojun exclaimed as he smacked your devilish hand away.

  “But you do enjoy being my personal snack for me to devour, don’t you baby?” You lowered your voice with your hot breath near his earlobe, then giggled as he blushed crimson red once again.

  Xiaojun was totally clinging on you as you finally managed to drag him to the shower room, streams of warm water massaging both of your sore erogenous core as another current of amorous electricity washed over you, as he became noticeably hard again.

  "I thought you said you were exhausted?" You narrowed your eyes mischievously, as he just sheepishly avoided your gaze while biting on his lip.

  “Round two?” You gently run your hand up and down along his torso, noticing his ever so slight nod.

  “This time, I will be much softer on you, my sweet little treat.”

[jeonjeonggukenergy]

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut (coming in ch3!) - college!au

wordcount ~ 2.3k

warnings ~ pretty much n/a, mentions of drinking and light smut

a/n ~ v excited for these lil dorks! i thought about combining this with the upcoming chapter but it felt right on its own and i wanted to go ahead and post an update for yall haha. ch 3 will most definitely have some serious smut to look forward to 👀 thank yall for reading, i love and appreciate any form of support or feedback so so much, so feel free to msg me or send me an ask abt whatever you want! 🥰 hope u enjoy this chapter!!!

previous: chapter 1 ~ next: chapter 3 | chapter 4 (coming soon!)

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 2 ~ cowboy bebop & chill

You couldn't stop thinking about Jungkook. Every time you brought the enamel of your favorite mug to your lips, teeth knocking the rim as you exhaled to cool off your tea, it called back the click of his earrings in your mouth. Whenever you reached behind your ear to tuck away the hair you'd impulsively cropped to your chin this year, it hit the same spot you'd sucked into a bruise on his neck and you shivered. Even your slight headache thanks to the shitty vodka from the pregame reminded you of the wine you'd sought out from him in the first place and never fucking got to drink. 

You found yourself reading over your responses to each other's discussion posts from your film class, trying to find any more justification for this sudden crush than the drunken flirtation that mortified you as soon as you remembered it sober. He did seem to like your directness...but you could easily ascribe that to his similarly loosened-up state. Scanning through your reflections on The Shawshank Redemption and Casablanca, you painstakingly overanalyzed every smiley face and "I loved that part too!" Could he have been into you at all before this? Or had he just eyed you for another quick fuck at a party? Shit, what if he hated you for working him up and then leaving? If he wanted to, you knew he would have easily found someone else to finish the night with. But what if he still held it against you? The image of him bitterly turning aside to find another girl in the crowd, with your hickey still fresh on his jaw, turned your stomach more than you wanted to admit.

Shaking your head with a grounding exhale, you reminded yourself that whoever else he did or didn't hook up with was none of your business. Plus, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy and probably didn't hate you in the first place. Wow, the bar really was so fucking low. Maybe that was part of the reason you were never that bold with boys. Every classmate you'd fallen for so far at college had remained innocently unaware of your feelings, likely because you never worked up the courage to clearly express them. You hadn't even been trying this time, though—this semester had been so busy you'd barely had time for your friends, much less crushes. And now your one blowoff class had become your biggest distraction.

Jungkook, a communications & media major, couldn't afford to lose as much focus in this class as you. Normally near front-and-center, he sat all the way in the corner of the last row, wary of imaginary stares burning through the hopefully-opaque-enough curtain of his hair. Even the risk of zoning out staring at the back of your head stressed him out less than the thought of you doing the same to him.

You walked into class through the back right entrance today so you'd pass Jungkook in the front row, though you could have gone straight to your usual left-side seat from the main door. Knowing you'd never summon the courage to talk to him, you still couldn't help wanting to see his face. You didn't know just what you were looking for—some kind of confirmation or dismissal that would let you just move on with your dry-ass life—but any reason to catch a glimpse of Jungkook was a good one. Today, though, he sat far closer to the entrance than you'd expected, and his proximity stopped you in your tracks a few feet behind him. Eyes dragging down the sculpted form under his soft black sweatsuit, your stare traced the veins in his forearms to reach the hands in his lap. Catching a half-page cartoon ass in your view of the manga he gazed at intently, a snort-laugh escaped you, the sound setting him on high alert. He snapped the book shut, spinning around with eyes wide and still-long hair an understandable mess for a Monday.

"I'm so—"

"I'm so sorry!"

You both shoved out the words at the same time.

A pause swelled between you, eye contact maintained as your mouths fluttered open and shut like fish. Even awkward and off-guard like this, he was just so damn pretty. It felt unreasonable for him to seem as flustered around you as you were around him. Finally, you spoke again, solely to force the conversation forward and put you both out of your misery.

"W-what do you have to be sorry for? I'm the one who, like—ugh, I was drunk, I'm so sorry, I never would have been so, yknow, if I was sober, like that's not me I promise, I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or—"

"No-no-no-no-no!" Jungkook cut you off, dismissing your barely intelligible apology. Before you could cut him off in return and continue, he held up both hands between you, his eyebrows knit together in a pleading expression. "Are you kidding me? Seriously, I feel so bad, I was kind of drunk too, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable! Please, you have nothing to worry about, it was, uh...I was...good...if...you were." He grew shyer as he continued, drifting off as a hand reached back to rub his neck. A light laugh. "You did make me have to keep my hair long for another few days, though. It's gotten so annoying to take care of, I was planning on cutting it right after the costume."

This admission perked up all your earlier curiosities about him, and a cautious smile spread over your face as Jungkook unconsciously reminded you that he was, in fact, a total dork, rather than the fuckboy you'd irrationally feared him to be.

"Wait, hold up," you snorted again. Gently. "You're telling me you grew out your hair for three, maybe four, months...for a Cowboy Bebop costume?"

"Hey, it was free and way less lame than a wig," he defended himself. Crossing his arms over his chest, he fidgeted uncomfortably, face blushing into a grin as you continued to giggle at him.

"You are such a fucking weeb," you accused lightheartedly.

Jungkook furrowed his brows back together, an anxious hand grazing the spot where you'd marked him again. "Well, you recognized my Spike costume, at least," he pouted. "You're not all innocent."

"I watched one episode with my friend, and it was dubbed," you downplayed. "Isn't watching dubs instead of subs a crime for real anime fans?"

"Actually," his eyes lit up at your rhetorical question. "The dub of Cowboy Bebop is excellent. It's pretty universally considered better than watching the OG with subs. You're right though, that is the general rule."

"Oh man, who knew." Looking down, grinning, you tried to hide how endeared you were by his earnestness. "Well, it was pretty cool, not gonna lie. I guess I kind of get the appeal."

"Would you want to start watching the rest sometime? That's one I just never get tired of," he blurted, then blushed, closing his mouth and working his lips between his teeth as his eyes stayed wide and on you. Jungkook's heart accelerated in his chest, a fist opening and closing at his hip as he tried to decide whether he regretted taking a chance on the question.

You instantly diverted all your mental energy from hoping he couldn't sense your attraction to massively overthinking your response. This was a "Netflix and chill" kind of invite, right? If he wanted you, of course you wanted him, but you had to be sure before you did something else stupid and risked having to find another discussion board buddy.

"Um...yeah, sure," you accepted. "I have to ask, though, do you mean, like...Cowboy Bebop and chill?" You raised an eyebrow, trying to look bolder than you felt. "Or...Cowboy Bebop and just...Cowboy Bebop?"

"I..." Mirroring your playful grin, Jungkook shrugged, not wanting to look like a fuckboy if he answered with the first option but also wondering—were you actually interested in watching this anime with him? The possibility puzzled him, the same way it confused you how he could go bold and then back to his shy weeb-ass self within seconds. You shrugged too, with an anxious exhale of a laugh.

"That was...weird to just say like that, sorry. We can just see where it goes, whatever you want," you backtracked, full of faux-nonchalance. The Google Calendar schedule on your phone suddenly became very interesting. "We could do another day if that works for you, but I'm free after this class once I write my discussion post—I don't have any other homework or meetings today for once."

He nodded quickly, eyebrows up. Swallowing, Jungkook saw the opportunity to show a little more initiative and seized it. "We could do that together even, 'cause we usually jump off each other anyway. So you can come over right after class if you want." He glanced up and to the left for a quick mental inventory. "Oh shit, wait, but I seriously need to clean my apartment first, can we do more like dinner time tonight? You can just come over for ramen or takeout if you want, or eat first or whatever."

"Yeah, that's fine!" you agreed warmly. "Ramen and homework, two birds with one scone. I should probably, like...get your number? So you can send me your address when you're ready or something?" You didn't want to sound too desperate, especially since you knew he was used to it, but you found yourself weirdly excited to experience something he so obviously loved. If you got dicked down too, even better, but you were definitely willing to wait on that part, especially now that this first sober conversation had restored your inhibitions. He had this slightly shy sweetness about him that just made you want to make him happy somehow. You wanted to see more of his cheesy little smile. You wanted to hear the bright laugh that occasionally rang out at the most inappropriate times, during Citizen Kane or attendance. You wanted to watch his light pink lips fall open in bliss as you kissed down his sensitive neck to the trim of his worn-in hoodie...

"Yeah sure, here." The quick touch of his hand over yours snapped you out of your thoughts as he took your phone, ready to type in his number, and—

"Wait, did you say 'two birds with one scone'? Not 'one stone'?"

You blushed furiously. Somehow him calling you out on your quirks embarrassed you more than the indecent daydream he'd interrupted. "Okay, so I saw this tweet a while back where they said 'feed two birds with one scone' to replace 'kill two birds with one stone,' I think it was just some vegan troll being all like 'don't talk about killing birds!' but it stuck with me because I just really fucking love scones."

"You...really fucking love scones?" he repeated in slight sarcasm, eyes down on your phone. You grew even shyer, but continued.

"Yeah, I bake a lot and they're my favorite thing to make. The flavor possibilities are endless and they last for days so I just keep them on hand for breakfast and snacks and to give out to friends. And they go with tea, which is my other favorite thing." Ooh, was he a tea person? Should you bring some tonight? Something earthy, to go with your ramen. Your go-to green sencha, or maybe chrysanthemum? Chamomile?

Jungkook held your phone back out in front of you, but waited silently for you to notice, enjoying the view of wheels turning in your head as you pondered tea pairings. This was the you he was used to, daydreaming in class and going on tangents as dorky as his in discussions. Even from a distance, he'd noticed you consistently gave off a vibe somewhere between absentminded professor and grandma, and this confirmation made you even cuter to him. But the hair still falling over his ears wouldn't let him forget his new physical proof of another side to you.

You finally collected your phone with a mumbly "Oh right, yeah, cool, thanks," that you prayed sounded more chill to him than it did to you.

"I just texted myself, so I have your number too now, and I'll just send you my address when I'm ready, and, uh...yeah!" he rambled a bit in response.

You nodded, confirming. "I'll see you tonight!"

"Yeah, see you tonight."

Jungkook watched you walk to your desk, silently admiring your ass and allowing himself only a moment to savor the memory of half of it filling his hand. A strange nervousness tingled through him. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about you all weekend either, and now he had a chance to get closer to you than ever before. He hoped, more than he could remember hoping for anything else, that this would go well, one way or another. He had no idea what you wanted with him, but you had him questioning everything he'd thought he wanted. Easing open his laptop, he pulled up your last discussion board response to him, signed off with a smiley face but backwards.

I like the way you think. (:

He turned his head to read it right-side-up, letting his face scrunch into a smile you wouldn't see.

Meanwhile, though the film thrilled you, you struggled to stay facing forward for the duration of class. You suspected the plot of Rear Window was simply unsettling you, but you swore you could feel Jungkook's eyes on your back. No, he was probably actually watching the movie as usual, or reading his manga if not. You were definitely just being paranoid. Definitely. Probably. Right?

next chapter 

[im-the-punk-who]

Could you post some more malex thoughts? What about that song? Or thoughts on them being endgame? Or season 3 malex thoughts?

Baby’s first RNM meta request 😭

ABSOLUTELY I can.

So I am gonna start with my S3 thoughts and endgame thoughts because everything else will tie into that.

From what I’ve seen, Roswell had 5 seasons originally planned, which is still what it feels like it needs to me. Which is cool! It also means we’re probably(hopefully, actually) not gonna get canon malex in s3.

The show has set them up as the ‘will-they-won’t they’ couple - most of their tension together focuses on *whether or not they get together* instead of if they’ll stay together. To me at least, it’s pretty clear the show’s assumption is that if they end up actually getting together in a healthy way(which they both seem to want in their relationships now), they will stay together.

If the show actually does it’s job right and takes the time to let both of them heal, grow, and experience other things that likely won’t happen until at least mid s4. It would make a nice dramatic midpoint for the season, they could play out a bit of that relief of finally being together in the late s4, and then whether or not they renew s5 they’ve told the story they wanted to. But if they do get a fifth season they can play with some hurt/comfort with Michael and Alex actually building/cementing their relationship. 

As we’re seeing with Liz and Max, tension has to come from somewhere and where RNM(as most shows do) fails is thinking it needs to come from the relationship, which is what I’m afraid would happen if malex get together so soon after making the(at least private) commitment to get better for each other. There won’t be enough time for growth and dramatic build to sustain the afterglow and they’ll have to find something else to torment the poor boys with. 

I don’t hold out a *super* large amount of hope for it, because like...this is the CW. But I do think either way malex will likely be endgame. Just from everything the show has told us and set up, I would be extremely surprised and honestly really fucking angry if they don’t. Not necessarily because they’re My Ship, or because it would be any sort of queer baiting - they’d both still be undeniably queer and I assume Alex would end up with Forrest or someone else in that scenario.

Honestly it would just be bad storytelling to set up your characters as having this deep cosmic connection, setting them up directly in parallel with our other pairs of starcrossed lovers Max/Liz and Nora/Tripp, dropping all the hints in the music choices(Holy Moly being the big one when linked with the Would You Come Home scene, but there are other small parallels in song choices - ‘Through Your Eyes’ as Alex walks away in 2x06 for example.) Especially with the literal confirmation that they both still *want* to be with each other (Alex’s song saying ‘if I got better and worked through my issues can we be together’ and Michael recognizing he’s got to give Alex the space to do that work so that maybe someday they can be together. ‘It’s not our time right now.“ “But it will be.” “I hope so.”)

Anyway! So, I would count a Not-Malex-Endgame as a bad ending, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if we get zero canon Malex content in S3. In fact given where the characters are, I think it would be an AMAZING choice to have these characters who are fan favorites and who everyone *wants* to be endgame - stay apart and work on themselves, and build all that TENSION( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) for an entire season in order to cash in for an s4 payoff.

Also, I really want to see Alex grow as a person. 

Michael really started to change in Season 2 - we’ve seen him start trying to be better, dealing with his emotions more, recognizing how bad his relationship with Alex is and trying to improve with Maria as well as building his other relationships, too. To me, Michael is already very different than he was in S1 and honestly, Alex has some catch up to do in terms of working on his fears and how they relate to how he cannot stand to be around Michael in stressful situations.

To that end, I really want to see how Alex and Forrest interact, and how a relationship with Forrest might change Alex. We heard before that Alex doesn’t really consider himself to have had a real relationship, and Forrest does *not* seem the type to be up for a fast and easy thing, so I think he could really push Alex to face his issues around commitment and his tendency to cut and run. 

Which would actually be really cool! I am not a Forrest-endgame person at all, mostly because he seems both way too put together and way too needy for Alex long term, but I do think they would be really fun to see played against each other and also just .... nice things for Alex Manes please. 

Also then we get lots of Michael making sad eyes at Alex which is just *chefs kiss*.

For Alex, his personal conflict has always centered around his trauma, his father, being ashamed and afraid of being openly gay, and having enough faith in people to believe he personally is worth fighting for and my main wish for Alex is to finally fucking learn how to love and be loved in return.

So in that vein and especially if we see Malex as endgame, it only makes sense that Michael’s journey needs to be a parallel one of him finding something worth staying on earth for. He’s started to build a family for himself fucking finally - Maria, Isobel, Sanders, hell I think there is even the potential for Liz, Max, and Kyle to be family. And of course, Alex has always been his family. But previously no one has ever had his back in the way he’s had theirs. 

From what we’ve seen, Michael has always been the one who gives with his whole self - both Maria and Alex comment on it - “I don’t doubt your capacity for love” & “He keeps secrets because of how much he loves Max and Isobel, not because of how much he loves you.” He is a character who has spent his life throwing affection and emotion at the wall and seeing what(if anything) sticks. 

He took the crayon from Max at the orphanage, told Isobel he killed the girls, dropped his plans to leave Roswell for her, he both defended Alex from his father and didn’t stop him from leaving a place he was in danger, he let Liz experiment with his blood for Isobel’s antidote. He tells Alex once that he was glad that Max and Isobel had an easier time, even if it meant he didn’t. Michael’s biggest character flaw is that he believes he has to be useful to be wanted. That he, as he is, is unloveable. Or, maybe better put, that he is not worthy of the kind of love others have.

In S3 I want this challenged, CW I will fight you. I *REALLY* want to see him have to face head on his assumption that he’s going to leave Earth at some point and everyone is going to be fine with that. I want him to realize he’s become core in someone’s life again. I want to see someone grab hold and refuse to let go. I want it to get messy, and I want them to stay, damnnit! 

I want to see Michael start making plans to stay again.

I said in a previous meta that I thought the growth Michael has gone through already would lead to him being approached by Jones with an offer to leave (so that Jones can separate the pod squad, so that he can use Michael to get to Max, something like that) and I really want to see what decision a more grounded Michael might make in a situation like that.

And what my tiny shriveled shipper heart REALLY wants is a scene where Michael is put to this choice of being able to leave and - despite being offered everything he has been working towards for his entire life - the relationships he’s built are strong enough to make him stay(again.)

(Hint, I REALLY want this to be Alex, for the plot resolution for them in S3 not to be ‘we get together’ but to be ‘we are able to recognize that we can BE there for each other even if we aren’t together’, which would lead spectacularly into an early/mid s4 get together after some light angst :) 

I have a lot more thoughts re: what I want from everyone else and what I’d love to see from the non pod-squad squad (MARIA ALEX LIZ ROSA PICNIC DATE WHEN) (CENTERING YOUR MAIN CHARACTERS OF COLOR WHEN) (TRY MAKING YOUR VILLAIN NOT A FUCKING PERSON OF COLOR!) Also like, Generyx, Deep Sky, Mr. Jones, possible connections between them and characters who aren’t pod squad oh my god can we for one episode focus on someone else, etc, but like.....this is already so long so maybe that’s for another time xD

Also as stated like....this is a CW show so this isn’t what’s going to happen, but it’s what a I *DESPERATELY WANT* to happen. My interaction with RNM is VERY much dead-plot-do-not-eat until proven otherwise and I’m just here to no-thoughts-head-empty enjoy the parts of Malex I like and ignore everything else :)

I’m gonna use this image that Diana made me because honestly this should be a disclaimer to any RNM post I make.

[haec-est-fides]

Filodox’s Trials of Apollo Reactions [Part I]

Welcome to part one of a reflective journey through Trials of Apollo ft. my original ebook annotations! I’ll be your host, 2020!filodox.

For this first episode, we’ll be going back to May 2016, the beginning of it all: The Hidden Oracle.

Annotations for this round are brought to you by 2016!filodox.

Is there anything we should know before we begin, 2016!me?

2016!filodox: I swore on the Styx never to read another Riordan book after he killed Octavian. And yet here we are.

... Alright then! Let’s get started.

But first, a more detailed overview on how this series will work: I will excerpt bits and pieces of the books based on what I highlighted / annotated on my first read. Beneath each quote, I will share what I wrote in the annotation. Below that, I will (occasionally) laugh at my past self, clarify the note, or say how my view has changed.

I encourage questions, comments, and concerns (of which there may be many), so go ahead and use that replies feature if you feel so inclined! However, these are just my opinions and (occasionally) emotional reactions, so no hate pls. <3 (Or, if you do send hate, pls make it funny.)

Now, diving right in with Riordan’s dedication!

To The Muse Calliope. This is long overdue. Please don’t hurt me.

2016!filodox: Hurt him. He didn’t even name the chapters.

As you can see, I had yet to experience Lester’s haiku and was already mad based on the table of contents alone. I went into this series very salty...

I inflicted a plague on the Greeks who besieged Troy.

2016!filodox: At least he did something right. Once.

I was just,,,extremely ready to die on Octavian’s hill. (Though I was a huge Troy / Aeneas stan before all this, just to be clear.)

Is anything sadder than the sound of a god hitting a pile of garbage bags?

2016!filodox: I actually find this particular god crashing into a dumpster quite amusing.

I also blamed Apollo for what happened to Octavian. I think that had a lot to do with how Apollo acted on Delos in Heroes of Olympus, basically disowning Octavian and whining about how some “creature” scammed him? That was bullshit. Apollo needed to own the fact that he blessed Octavian, but he just abandoned him and denied all the blame. TL;DR I had a grudge, okay?

My mind stewed in confusion, but one memory floated to the surface -- the voice of my father, Zeus: YOUR FAULT. YOUR PUNISHMENT.

2016!filodox: Wait, is this bc everyone blames Octavian and therefore Apollo? Bc lol but also no?

*cough* Octavian did nothing wrong 2k16 *cough*

Zeus will reconsider, I told myself. He’s just trying to scare me. Any moment, he will yank me back to Olympus and let me off with a warning.

“Yes...” My voice sounded hollow and desperate. “Yes, that’s it.”

2016!filodox: Apollo is a self centered frat boy, I forgot...but it is slightly...endearing? *narrows eyes*

Ah, how close I was to stanning Lester in the first chapter, when he was at his most “goddy”. You know, I actually made a rule for myself when I started reading Trials of Apollo that I would not under any circumstances stan Apollo. That was a naive goal, because it was never really a danger.

Regardless, Zeus had held me responsible for Octavian’s delusions of grandeur. Zeus seemed to consider egotism a trait the boy had inherited from me. Which is ridiculous. I am much too self-aware to be egotistical.

2016!filodox: I am going to Murder him.

*chef kiss* the hypocrisy ! the lack of self-awareness !

“I just...I assumed -- I hoped this would be taken care of by now.”

“You mean by demigods,” Percy said, “going on a big quest to reclaim the Oracle of Delphi?”

2016!filodox: That sounds like a decent quest, or you know, QUESTING FOR THE SIBYLLINE BOOKS

I’ve always said I can see the future but an inch to the left. Also, I don’t like Ella.

It warmed my heart that my children had the right priorities: their skills, their images, their views on YouTube. Say what you will about gods being absentee parents; our children inherit many of our finest personality traits.

2016!filodox: AND HE’S MAD ABOUT OCTAVIAN?!

I mean ?

Apollo, when Austin and Kayla show ambition: THEY GOT THAT FROM ME <3

Apollo, when Octavian (or Nero, or Caligula) shows ambition: srry i don’t know him ??

He had a weak jawline, an overlarge nose, and a beard that wrapped around his double chin like a helmet strap. His hair was curly and dark like mine, except not as fashionably tousled or luxuriant. His lips curled as if he smelled something unpleasant. Perhaps it was the burning seats of the bus.

2016!filodox: Nero ???

Not quite sure how to feel looking back at this moment. Call out post @ myself for instantly recognizing Nero, when afaik this scene was before we had any hints that Roman emperors were even a plot point? But here’s the thing: I don’t remember why I could recognize him so easily. I don’t remember where 2016!me obtained this ancient Rome knowledge. A mystery.

On another note entirely, did Nero really like,,,astral project into Apollo’s fever dream to address him directly? Because Rhea does. And sometimes Python does. But Nero? Can he do that?

The man laughed as flames licked at his purple sleeves. “You’re not sorry yet, but you will be. Find me the gates. Lead me to the Oracle. I’ll enjoy burning it down!”

2016!filodox: I too enjoy burning things down. # Nero confirmed

My only comment here is “oh you sweet summer child,,,”

Oh. Perhaps some of you are wondering how I felt seeing [Will] with a boyfriend rather than a girlfriend.

2016!filodox: No, actually. I wasn’t wondering. I was plotting how to kill you, them, and quite a few other people. Do you think I could trade you for Octavian?

Oh man, back at it again with the salt. XD

I could only remember my conversations with Octavian, the way he’d turned my head with his flattery and promises. That stupid boy...it was his fault I was here.

A voice whispered in the back of my mind. This time I thought it might be my conscience: Who was the stupid boy? It wasn’t Octavian.

2016!filodox: I can’t really...explain my emotions upon reading this. I’m still not quite okay, but this...it’s bittersweet in a way. I don’t know if this is a poor attempt at a proper closure, the author’s way of beating a dead horse, or just a way to make Apollo seem pitiable. Whatever it is... Octavian was important enough to remain in Apollo’s mortal memory. He somehow made promises to a god and had Apollo wrapped around his finger. And despite being so much like Apollo, the god blames him. Like everyone blames him. But Apollo also realizes, accepts on an infinitesimal scale, that “it wasn’t Octavian”. He wasn’t perfect, but neither is Apollo. Apollo is (at least) subconsciously admitting his own guilt in the whole affair.

...yeah. I will note that this bit isn’t meant to develop Octavian, but rather uses Octavian as a prop to support Apollo’s development? Which is why it still stings. Like thanks, I guess.

“Your judgement in the past has been...questionable. I wonder if you have chosen the right tools for this job. Have you learned from your past mistakes?”

2016!filodox: Nero has made plenty of mistakes to learn from

Love how I just assumed it was Nero back in chapter 10 and went with it, zero hesitation. Also love how I heard Python say Nero has made mistakes and went “oh absolutely”. In fact, here’s something funny in retrospect that will become more and more apparent: I did not like Nero in 2016. Or, at least, I thought I didn’t. There’s something really odd going on here that baffles me, looking back...

“A triumvirate is a ruling council of three,” I said. “At least, that’s what it meant in ancient Rome.”

“Which is interesting,” Rachel said, “because of this next shot.” She tapped her screen. The new photo zoomed in on the building’s penthouse terrace, where three shadowy figures stood talking together....

2016!filodox: Is it bad that I’m smirking? Because it’s getting interesting ~ *clear malicious intent*

Wow, edgy. Triumvirates are just a neat, Roman thing and I stanned.

“The last triumvirate I dealt with included Lepidus, Marc Antony, and my son, the original Octavian. A triumvirate is a very Roman concept...like patriotism, skullduggery, and assassination.”

2016!filodox: THIS IS WHAT I’VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL EVERYONE. MODERN OCTAVIAN IS A VERY GOOD ANCIENT ROMAN. POLITICS, ESPECIALLY SHADY AF POLITICS AND POWERPLAYS, ARE QUINTESSENTIALLY ROMAN. Also, I’d like to note that it’s confirmed, in this universe’s canon, that Augustus was a son of Apollo.

Ohhhh, wait. I think I’d watched the HBO series Rome by 2016, which would at least partially explain my ancient Rome knowledge. (Amazing tv show btw!)

“He heard them talking in Latin.”

“Latin? Were they campers?”

Pete spread his hands. “I--I don’t think so. Paulie described them like they were adults. He said one of them was the leader. The other two addressed him as imperator.”

2016!filodox: !!!! (obligatory 💕)

I was such a simp for Latin in high school. And the Roman Empire. Still am, but hey.

“The Beast is planning some kind of attack on your camp. I don’t know what it is, but it’s going to be big.”

2016!filodox: Runs in the family I guess

The Octavian / Triumvirate parallels are everywhere... 👀

“The emperors made themselves gods. They had their own temples and altars. They encouraged the people to worship them.”

2016!filodox: # deify me

*smacking my past self with a stick* You stop that! Edgy child!

Anyway, a much better point here is like,,,the Imperial cult was huge in the ancient Roman world. Looking at Apollo’s explanation here, why did only the “worst” three emperors get to be immortal? Did famously “good” emperors like Augustus and Marcus Aurelius have the option of becoming minor gods, but they chose Elysium or something? Are there slightly less infamous emperors just hanging around anywhere as minor gods? A lot of Roman emperors live on in human memory is all I’m saying.

“Wait!” Will said as I reached the door. “Who is the Beast? Which emperor are we dealing with?”

“The worst of my descendants.” My fingers dug into the doorframe. “The Christians called him the Beast because he burned them alive. Our enemy is Emperor Nero.”

2016!filodox: I honestly can’t believe it took this long to reveal this? Was anyone surprised?

Nero’s reveal is rather late in the book compared to Commodus, Caligula, and even Tarquin iirc? But it makes sense, being the first book of the series. Also love how 16-year-old me was like “this reveal is silly because everyone, like me, recognizes Nero on sight” and didn’t question that assumption at all.

“Germani.” Instinctively, I moved in front of Meg. The elite imperial bodyguards had been cold-blooded death reapers in ancient Rome. I doubted they’d gotten any sweeter over the centuries.

2016!filodox: BITCH. See? This is why I love Rome. They knew what they were doing.

Ngl, as someone of Germanic heritage, I felt really represented by the Germani, which is hilarious on so many levels.

He tried to compensate for his ugliness with an expensive Italian suit of purple wool, his gray shirt open to display gold chains. His shoes were hand-tooled leather, not the sort of thing to wear while stomping around in an ant pile. Then again, Nero had always had expensive, impractical tastes.

2016!filodox: I don’t exactly like Nero, and actually think he was quite the shitty emperor, but I guess I mildly respect and “like” him on principle (in this book at least).

OH YOU SWEET SUMMER CHILD. I was so convinced that I didn’t actually like Nero, despite all of the lowkey evidence to the contrary? Who hurt you, past me? (Lmao, it was Tacitus, Suetonius, and Cassius Dio.) My working theory is that I was too much of an Emperor Augustus stan at the time to admit liking Nero. It’s hysterical. Look at me equivocating like a champ.

I’d been so proud of my son, the original Octavian, later Caesar Augustus. After his death, his descendants became increasingly arrogant and unstable (which I blamed on their mortal DNA; they certainly didn’t get those qualities from me).

2016!filodox: I’m glad Apollo and I can agree on something. Augustus was amazing and those who came after him...significantly less so.

See! The propaganda really got to me, what can I say?

Nero clasped his hands as if in prayer. “Oh, my. It seems we’ve had a slight miscommunication. You see, Apollo, Meg brought you here, just as I asked her to. Well done, my sweet.”

2016!filodox: This was obvious but I still find it...gods, the only word I can think of is “delicious”

. . .

“The Beast killed my father. This is Nero. He’s -- he’s my stepfather.”

I could not fully grasp this before Nero spread his arms.

“That’s right, my darling,” he said. “And you’ve done a wonderful job. Come to Papa.”

2016!filodox: Okay, but we should have known this since it became apparent her weapons were Roman. Also, oof. Also also, WHY did Riordan feel the need to add that last line? Why?

ASDFGHJKL: I CAN’T

“After the fire, we’ll rebuild,” he said. “It will be glorious!”

2016!filodox: The amount of times I have used this very logic is worrying.

For (some) context, Firelord Ozai is my favorite character from AtLA. <3

The scene might have been funny except that the Germani were now back on their feet, five demigods and a geyser spirit were still tied to highly flammable posts, and Nero still had a box of matches.

2016!filodox: Oh, I find this plenty amusing!

The emperor stared at his empty hand. “Meg...?” His voice was as cold as an icicle.

2016!filodox: The various ways his tone / voice have been described throughout this conversation are just 💕

*looks at camera like I’m on The Office*

Seriously, though. Nero’s voice is like the central descriptive element of his character because he’s so manipulative. It’s really cool and a great use of detail.

[Meg] turned to Nero. “You told me never to lower myself to my enemies’ level.”

“No, indeed.” Nero’s tone had frayed like a weathered rope. “We are better. We are stronger. We will build a glorious new world. But these nonsense-spewing trees stand in our way, Meg. Like any invasive weeds, they must be burned. And the only way to do that is with a true conflagration -- flames stoked by blood.”

2016!filodox: Real 👏🏻 Gods 👏🏻 Require 👏🏻 Blood👏🏻

I was way too enthusiastic about this whole situation, wasn’t I?

Nero grinned. “Good-bye, Apollo. Only eleven more Olympians to go.”

2016!filodox: Wait, shit, WHAT

Having read Tower of Nero, this probably had something to do with Python interfering with the Fates, huh? But does that mean it’s more Python’s plan or Nero’s? If this was Nero’s plan (with his 12 kids literally replacing the Olympians) that’s,,,really fucking bold.

Then I heard the screaming from Camp Half-Blood.

2016!filodox: Music to my ears ~

I’m presenting every edgy detail of my annotations so I have a proper case file when I inevitably have to face the question “On a scale of one to ten, how relatable is Emperor Nero and why should you have realized it’s a ten sooner?”

In a flash of silver light, the camp’s magical barriers collapsed. The Colossus lurched forward and brought his foot down on the dining pavilion, smashing it to rubble like so many children’s blocks.

2016!filodox: Payback! Dear gods, I can’t stop smiling! I’m just like “YES!” I know this will all probably get fixed or whatever but I’M HAVING A MOMENT.

I’ve learned to appreciate the small wins. <3

Percy grabbed one of the crown’s sunray spikes. He sliced it off at the base, then jabbed it into the Colossus’ forehead.

2016!filodox: As much as Nero is FAR from my favorite, I really don’t like defacing ancient (or replicas of ancient) statues and art...

This is where I just start laughing at myself tbh. I was so insistent on not liking Nero. Like, I sound like I’m in denial. Peak equivocation. What happened to that heart emoji a few chapters back? Why did I suddenly make it about *checks notes* ancient art? Updated translation: nooo don’t ruin the Colossus Neronis it’s so sexy aha

Just as the [arrow] reached its apex and was about to fall back to earth, a gust of wind caught it...perhaps Zephyros looking kindly on my pitiful attempt. The arrow sailed into the Colossus’ ear canal and rattled in his head with a clink, clink, clink like a pachinko machine.

2016!filodox: HOW MANY EX MACHINAS IS THIS ?! The dryads, the arrow, Percy, the enchantment, and THIS ?

One of my criticisms of Trials of Apollo in general is just that the stakes are so much higher and Riordan usually solves that problem by having his heroes win on long odds. The chances of them succeeding at like,,,anything they attempt are astronomical, but of course they manage. It’s not surprising but it does get a little tiring.

“Yo, Nico,” Leo called, “please tell me that’s it for the physical abuse.”

“For now.” Nico smiled. “We’re still trying to get in touch with the West Coast. You’ll have a few dozen people out there who will definitely want to hit you.”

2016!filodox: Oh I’d love to hit him. With the flaming, Imperial gold payload of an onager. Preferably WITHOUT the Pontifex Maximus attached to it -- unless of course you mean the false pontifex, Jason Grace.

Leo was the salt in the wound for this one, ngl. He rekindled my undying ire over Octavian’s death. As I said at the beginning of this, I was extremely ready to die on Octavian’s hill after Heroes of Olympus. That sentiment sticks around for a while...

And we can call that a wrap!

Though it may seem like it, my annotations are not, in fact, a compilation of Nero’s greatest hits. There are a lot of scenes of his that I love (naturally) but I didn’t have anything to say about them when I first read the series. Maybe I’ll share those another time.

In any case, I hope you got something out of this ridiculously long post! Until next time! <3

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 17: From Protector to Pathetic

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16

Word count: 1580

A/N: 👀😗 I hope you all like angsty cliches as much as I dooooo!

It seemed to Jonathan that Elianna had learned from her first experience with the fear toxin. While she still fell unconscious once it began to wear off, the effects didn't last as long, and in lieu of frightened screaming, she had managed to restrict herself to quieter sounds of terror.

Upon seeing his friend's distress diminish as her eyelids grew heavy, Jonathan unfastened the restraints and took the belt from her mouth. When he turned his attention back to her, he found that El had already curled in on her side; she would twitch every few seconds, each one accompanied by a soft whimper, whether from perceived pain or from fear he couldn't tell.

Even so, he once again felt pride well up in him as her body relaxed more and more. He was surprised to find that she was still barely lucid when he laid down and pulled the blankets over them. Magnet-like, she was suddenly tucked against him, seeking warmth. Once the shock by the speed of her movement wore off, he allowed himself a tiny smile and secured his arms around her as Scarecrow piped up with his usual assortment of vulgar persuasion; easily ignored at this point.

Elianna finally relaxed into a deep, exhausted sleep, the material of Jonathan's shirt bunched up in her hand.  He was very quickly growing reaccustomed to her unconscious insistence for closeness in her sleep. He found his fingertips skimming up and down her arm lightly as his thoughts returned to the execution of the attack on Gotham.

Admittedly, Elianna's insistent reminder of all that he had accomplished in the process took away much of the stress and replaced it with a sense of premature victory, which was very welcome in comparison. Jonathan found himself slipping into sleep more quickly than he had in a long time.

.xXx.

That didn't last for very long, however, as he was tugged back into semi-consciousness after a few short hours by El shifting uncomfortably in her sleep while muttering to herself. Jonathan blinked in the darkness (he had forgotten to turn on the bathroom light, damn), trying to bring her face into focus. He had only barely made out her furrowed brow and defiant frown when her voice began to raise, along with her poorly coordinated movements.

Jonathan had long been accustomed to soothing her back into sleep without waking her up when she had nightmares (which was concerningly often), but this one was clearly escalating faster than he could wake himself up.

That was, until whatever she was experiencing reached a crescendo, and she bolted upright, sucking in a deep, shuddering breath, followed by a short cry of torment. In an instant, Jonathan found himself next to her, his hand on her back. Instinctively, she leaned into the touch, pressing sideways into his chest with another anguished sob as her friend tried desperately to unscramble his tired brain.

This was troubling, to say the least. Generally speaking, El didn't really cry. Not like that, anyway. She hated to cry; she considered it a 'waste of energy,' in her own words. Even when she had occasion to, it was usually just a quiet tear or two and didn't hinder whatever else she may be doing.

But sitting there, listening to his friend actually sob in earnest, Jonathan found himself getting worried. Quietly shushing her (what the hell is that going to do, idiot?), he put a hand on the back of her head to hold her in place as she sucked in another shuddering breath.

"Breathe, El, breathe." She didn't respond, but she did make a second, slightly more successful attempt to take in a normal breath. "That's it; everything is fine." Jonathan cursed the brusqueness of his voice, still barely awake enough to even speak, let alone police his tone. "It's okay," he tried again—better.

Gradually, El's breathing evened out, but she continued to cling to Jonathan like a lifeline, trembling. Once again, he found himself disturbed by the extreme reaction; this was not normal.

Eventually, she sat back up, still shivering and with tear tracks just beginning to dry on her face, which bore no expression as she stared blankly forward at the opposite wall. Jonathan waited patiently for her to speak first; his hand had returned to her back, still uneasy.

However, he was comforted when she finally let out a frustrated sigh, disgusted by her own lack of control. "Round two nightmares are a bitch," she offered flimsily. Caught off guard, he couldn't help an amused scoff.

"Clearly."

"I can't remember the last time I cried like that, ugh," she wiped at her face, all fear replaced with frustration. "That was so annoying. I'm sorry." The apology was punctuated with an awkward half-laugh as she feigned confidence. It wasn't convincing, however, as she wouldn't look at him as she spoke. "Go back to sleep; I'm just going to get some water."

Jonathan considered joining El in the kitchen as she shambled in the direction of the kitchen, but he was just...so tired... Surely a moment to herself would do her some good anyway.

Once in the kitchen, Elianna flicked on the light and took a moment to brace herself against the counter as she scrambled to compose herself. What a stupid situation. She was no stranger to nightmares, having often been plagued by them for her entire life. So why was this one so different?

She knew why. Being in such proximity to Jonathan again had not only stirred up old worries but had given them new form as well. When he had first confessed to her his situation with Granny, many of her dreams had depicted her finding him dead somewhere, pecked to death by crows, or starved to death, or any other horrible possibility.

But their dynamic had shifted so much since they were teenagers. Whereas back then, she had been the protector, their roles had been reversed drastically, and as such, her Jonathan-fueled nightmare had borne a very different image.

Doing her best not to think about it, El finally filled a glass of water and drank it slowly.

In the meantime, Jonathan was facing a dawning realization of guilt. In all of the times that she had been woken by a nightmare when he was around, Elianna had never...snapped like that before. She had blamed it on the toxin, and maybe that was true to an extent, but he was sure that the impending attack on Gotham had played a larger part.

And the only reason she was even in the city was that he had selfishly orchestrated for her to be there. If he had just ignored the application on Warden Sharpe's desk, she was sure to still be in California, bored but safe. As such, he felt a sense of responsibility for her continued wellbeing, and to his mind, this episode made clear what a dismal job he was doing. She was even smoking again, for God's sake.

When she ambled back into the bedroom a few minutes later, Jonathan had resumed a horizontal position, one elbow covering his eyes. Thinking he had fallen back asleep and not wanting to wake him again, El crept back onto her side of the bed carefully.

It was just another nightmare. Just go back to sleep, she commanded herself, shaking off the remaining worry. Just another really intense, very real feeling, vivid, horrible nightmare, she thought grimly as she remembered flashes of what she had seen.

The city in chaos, fire, destruction, screaming, pain; Jonathan standing over her, watching as she begged for help ("please, don't leave me here, you promised!") before he walked off, leaving her alone, injured, and at the mercy of the panicked, violent citizens of what used to be Gotham...

A movement from the other side of the bed startled her out of her thoughts as she released her breath from her tight chest. Blinking through the darkness, she saw that the arm that had been previously thrown over Jonathan's face was now stretched out between them.

"Come on, you know you're going to end up over here anyway," came his tired voice by way of invitation. After a moment's hesitation, El obeyed and once again found herself tucked up against her friend's torso. "So, what happened?" Jonathan asked as his arm wrapped around her and felt a sharp intake of breath from the redhead.

"It doesn't matter." He waited patiently for her to elaborate. "I already know you wouldn't leave me behind." Oh. Almost subconsciously, he squeezed her tighter.

"No, I wouldn't." The finality in his tone did well to reassure El and quell the final remnants of her apprehension.

"No, of course not. Doesn't matter," she murmured to herself, holding him close.

"Doesn't matter," Jonathan repeated affirmatively, clearly drifting back to sleep judging by his voice, and El found herself at last in a similar state. She hummed a response and kissed his shoulder before the pair finally slipped back into slumber.

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome (again) to the Order of the Phoenix, Christie!

You have been accepted for the role of MARY MACDONALD! We loved how readily you embraced the harsher sides of Mary -- and how you wrote her embracing those aspects of herself, as well -- and we're so excited to see the fire and fuel she brings to the Order of the Phoenix! Things are going to get hot for enemy and ally alike with your Mary on the dash, and we can't wait to see it!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME & PRONOUNS: christie, she/her

AGE: 20

TIMEZONE: bst

ACTIVITY LEVEL: Uni’s started once again and I did go through a period of ‘oh snap how is that going to work‘ but that being said, I believe I’ve finally found my balance once again and feel confident enough in taking on a third character. I try to join at least one sprint a week, but then even when I can’t do that, I usually try to have mini sprints by myself.

ANYTHING ELSE: nope, nothing

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Mary Lizbeth MacDonald

AGE: 20 soon-to-be 21 (3 April 1961)

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cis female, she/her, ‘don’t know, don’t care’. She’s not particularly interested in romance and whenever she feels any sexual frustration, boys seem to do the trick just fine. She doesn’t care to explore her sexuality beyond that.

BLOOD STATUS: Muggleborn

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor

ANY CHANGES: Nope! All good!

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY: 

Many seem to think that Mary’s angry – and they’re right, don’t get her wrong. She’s fucking pissed at all the thumb twiddling, at the idiotic fanatics obsessed with slaughtering her kind, at the moralists looking down on her methods from their high horses. But she’s also not an idiot; she knows that anger kills and that if she’s not smart about this, it’ll kill her too. So she lets it drive her, lets it fuel her, but never lets it control her. She’s smart like that.

She also knows most would prefer to think of her killing Mulciber as a heat-of-the-battle, spur-moment decision, but that’s not what it was. When she looked him in the eye, his wand on the ground somewhere in the distance, Mary felt a moment of perfect clarity wash over her. She was perfectly capable of taking him in, she was sure of it, and for a brief moment, she considered it too. But then the corner of her lips twitched, pulling at the tissue of her scar, and her decision was made. If that makes her ruthless then so be it; God knows they’ve got enough soft-hearted plonkers in their ranks already. And if they need someone to hold their hand and pat them on the back for a job well done, they can fuck right off. The Order isn’t an after school special nor is it an extracurricular to join for the ‘experience’ and Mary certainly isn’t here to coddle anyone. She says it as it is, straightforward and blunt, and it’s sure as hell not her problem if people can’t handle the truth. She didn’t join the Order to make friends who’d braid her hair. She has a war to fight and everything else comes second.

That isn’t to say she’s a stone-cold bitch, though, as many times as she’s heard that. She has people she cares about, of course she does, but isn’t that the point? How can she claim to love her family, her siblings, and just sit around and wait for them to get killed off? How can she claim to care about the fate of Muggleborns and not join the fight against those who try to murder them? It’s not her passion and heart that people should question, it’s their own. Because if they cared, they wouldn’t be wasting their time judging her, they’d be fighting tooth and nail, like she is. Call her bold, call her desperate, she doesn’t give a flying fuck. If she has to, Mary will take the mud from her veins and throw it in the eyes of the Death Eaters; anything to buy another second, anything to win.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY: 

There’s no question of whether or not Mary loves her family – of course she does! She loves her mum, who once tried to braid her hair but only managed to tangle it up so badly that they had to cut some of it off. She loves her dad and his terrible, stupid jokes that she doesn’t get half the time but snorts at regardless. She loves Adam too, how can she not? They had their dual act perfected; ‘I wash, you dry’, ‘I help Mum, you help Dad’, ‘I take Sarah, you take John’. And Sarah and John, the babies of the family. Except they’re not babies anymore, are they? Mary loves them too, with her entire heart and more, but she missed John’s first day in middle school. She missed Sarah’s first boyfriend. She still sees them as those tiny bundles who cried a lot, pooped a lot, and refused to ever let go of her hair, but that’s not who they are.

It’s better this way, though. The less contact any of them have with the Wix World the better. Maybe one day, when the war’s over, Mary will be able to go home and apologise. She’s not sorry, but it’s not like any of them know her anymore. They’ll believe her. And they deserve an apology, anyway. It’s the least she can do. After that… she’s not sure. But it doesn’t matter. She’ll cross that bridge when she gets to it.

OCCUPATION: 

Barista at a teashop in Diagon Alley. Yes, she’s very much aware of how ridiculous the mental image of Mary MacDonald serving tea is, but it’s a pretty sweet gig. The pay’s good, the shifts are flexible enough that she can structure her daily routine around the Order as opposed to her job, and if all that takes is serving a punch of grannies tea and biscuits then Mary will do just that. Who knows, maybe one day the old hags will even take a hint and stop telling her what a pretty girl she is, but shame for that ugly scar. Her boss sometimes gives her crap for not smiling and playing along, but considering Mary hasn’t spat in their tea just yet, she thinks she’s handling it perfectly well.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER: 

Being in the Order was never about sitting around and moralising, not to Mary. It was an outlet, it was a purpose, it was an opportunity, but never passivity. And the fact that all they seem to do nowadays is talk doesn’t sit right with her. James Potter is dead and that’s shit, she gets it. She misses him too. But unless the Order wants everyone else to join him in the afterlife, it’s time they got their shit together. And none of that vagueness, Mary’s talking plans and action. Immediate, if possible. Before the Death Eaters get even stronger.

That’s one thing she brings to the Order, at least. The push, the harsh truths, the pressure. The Muggleborn perspective, if you would. Because of course all those noble Purebloods can afford to babble at length – it’s not them being slaughtered. They might care, sure, they might want to help, but that doesn’t change the fact they don’t understand. The clock ticks differently for them, more slowly, quietly, while Mary can barely hear her own heartbeat over its deafening noise. Hell, they might be out of time already. Not that that changes anything; there’s only one path to take and Mary feels as though she’s running ahead while her fellow members leisurely trudge behind. 

But being part of the Inner Circle’s given her a voice. They have to listen to her now, she gets to have a say in the decision-making, and that’s not nothing. She advocates for action, for fighting, but she also understands that if they do that, they’re going to have to fight smart, not just blindly charge into battle. It’s not as strange as it was once was, to coordinate with multiple people, and while Mary would still only ever leave her survival in her own hands, she’s accepted that she’s a part of something bigger now.

On paper, it should work. They’ve got some crazy smart people in their ranks (and some downright crazy people, but that’s neither here nor there), they’ve got some great duellists, and that should make up for lacking in numbers. So in theory, they’ve still got a shot. And if you ask Mary, it’s about time they got off their asses and started returning the favour.

An eye for an eye isn’t quite right. She’s always been a fan of walking the extra mile, after all. When Mulciber marked her face, she ended up taking his life. And now they’d killed James. What does that say about the Order, if they let that go unpunished? Might as well line up and paint targets on their foreheads, if you ask her.

SURVIVAL: 

Mary’s tough, is all it really comes down to. She’s dead set on surviving (ha, exactly the kind of stupid joke her dad might make) and has no qualms about fighting dirty or making tough calls. Can’t afford to, really.

But thing is, she’s good at the whole surviving thing. She’s good at covering her tracks, at making sure no one sees her entering or leaving her flat, at taking care of those who take an unhealthy interest. She’d say she’s made for it, almost, but how fucked up would that be, to be made for war? Then again, what does she know about fucked up. She’s a murderer, plain and simple, and maybe it should bother her how much it doesn’t bother her. Sure, she’d had the whole breakdown-in-the-bathroom after that mission, but in the end, she’d looked at her reflection in the mirror and there’d been nothing but satisfaction there. The bastard had deserved it; if war means Mary has to play jury and executioner then so be it.

RELATIONSHIPS: 

She’s heard all that crap some members spew about the Order being a family and whatnot and she’s just not buying all that. Her family is miles away in Bristol; these people here are closer to being her coworkers. And yet. It’s them she talks to daily. Not her mum, her dad, her siblings, but the Order. She’s grown fond of some of them, she can’t deny it, but that doesn’t mean shit. It’s still Mary MacDonald against the world, just as it’s always been.

Lily Evans: When Mary said Lily needed a wake-up call, her boyfriend being killed isn’t exactly what she’d meant. She’s sorry for Lily’s loss, of course she is, but there’ll be time to grieve later. Now, Mary’s curious if maybe Lily will finally see what she’s been talking about this whole time. And if that still doesn’t open her eyes… well. Nothing wrong with a lost cause, only it takes up space.

Caradoc Dearborn: His fighting club is a good idea, Mary can admit as much. She’d even offered to join and teach those airy-fairy softies how to duel. Her only question is, will all that training finally lead to some actual fighting? She certainly hopes so.

Regulus Black: Mary had never liked Regulus back in school, and she doesn’t like him still, but that doesn’t matter. He’s got important information and valuable insights, and Mary wants to know. Spending time in his miserable company is just an unfortunate bonus.

Remus Lupin: Apparently, Lupin’s a werewolf, but unless that’s going to somehow help him in a fight, Mary couldn’t give two shits. He hasn’t gone and tried to kill them all just yet which is more than she can say about Voldemort so in her book, Lupin’s still alright.

Frank Longbottom: Mary’s got no actual proof of this, but she just knows he’s holding Alice back. Why else would she be so distracted as of late? Love sounds nice and all, but things like that are precisely why Mary doesn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: 

Love is so far down on Mary’s priority list that she can barely even see it. So of course I’d love for her to have to deal with a situation where she finds herself interested in somebody beyond just sex. But those things just happen naturally, I think, so I’ll just say that if the chemistry is right, I wouldn’t mind exploring just about any ship with Mary.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

A Muggleborn and a woman! Hide your darling little sons with their perfect little bowties, it’s the nightmare of every Pureblood mother. Really, they’re not even worth Mary’s mockery, but she gives it freely, she simply can’t help herself. Even outside of being bigoted and prejudiced, their entire little society is so damn funny to her. Twats, all of them.

Other than her clear bias against Purebloods, and perhaps contradictory of it, Mary isn’t all that fond of meek Muggleborns either. What good are they if they’re just going to be proving Voldemort right? They can use a wand and they can fight; that’s more than enough in Mary’s book. But some prefer to run away, like cowards, and she has no respect for people like that.

On the other hand, from a more Muggle perspective, Mary isn’t as liberal with sexuality as one might believe. She has no problems talking about sex, but when sexual orientation comes into play, it’s a bit of a different matter. 

There’s a reason she hasn’t explored her potential attraction to women, after all. The way she sees it, sexuality is as much of a statement as anything else, except right now, there’s no need to add that on top of an entire war. She finds it needlessly attention-seeking, the people who are so open with their preferences that they almost seem to flaunt it.

Moving onto privileges, Mary just doesn’t get why Muggleborns would feel the need to flee because she’s healthy, athletic, and good at duelling; she doesn’t have the perspective of somebody who’s been driven to a corner, helpless. Furthermore, she has a job and an apartment, she’s secure in her position in the Order, and she already has a body count which gives her an additional confidence boost. She’s got it well when compared to other Muggleborns, but she would be pissed if somebody mentioned that.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I just really love it here. That’s it, plain and simple. And as soon as I figured I could balance another character, my fingers were already itching to fill out the app.

PLOT DROP IDEAS (OPTIONAL): Nothing comes to mind right now, I’m afraid.

ANYTHING ELSE? Nope :)

[countessrivers]

For the meta asks: 3,4 and 8, please :)

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

So, for my vampire au aka Previously on the Gotham Diaries (for which there is still only one part published *shrug*) I have these big sprawling plans and ideas that I keep getting distracted from but other, equally good fic ideas. The rough plan for this au was/is one fic that explores the twin’s backstory and how they were turned, and another that’s kind of like an adaptation of season 2, where Galavan comes to town and he’s a vampire and you’ve got the Valeskas and Bruce and Oz and Hunter Jim and it all kind of plays out very similarly and still totally ends with Jim killing Galavan while Oz looks on a little bit in love and a little bit turned on. These are currently very, very fragmentary WIPs, so in the spirit of the ask, I’ll post a couple of excerpts (there’s also a Gobblepot coda that’s a bit more together, so that might come out at some point too)

From the Valeska twins backstory fic:

His hands are shaking as he lets go of the knife. Jerome stumbles back, bent over, hands wrapping around the hilt of the knife, replacing Jeremiah’s. Blood is already leaking out around the blade, spilling over Jerome’s hands and dripping onto the floor.

‘I’ve killed him,’ Jeremiah thinks, slightly hysterically.

He should be running. He should be using Jerome’s distraction to make an escape. He should be saving himself, but for some reason he’s frozen to the spot, starring in mute horror as his brother doubles over the knife Jeremiah stuck in him.

Jerome lets at a hacking cough that transforms into a grating laugh that burns Jeremiah’s ears to hear.

...

He sees Jerome’s arm move but he doesn’t feel the knife. He doesn’t feel it slice across his throat, but he does feel blood as it gushes from the wound. His hands scramble desperately at his neck, trying to stem the flow as he chokes, throat and airway quickly filling with blood. It’s useless, Jeremiah knows that, but the panic has taken over, and his body is reacting on instinct, clutching at the site of injury, trying to stop the bleeding.  

His legs give out beneath him, but before he hits the ground, Jerome catches him, pulling him into his chest. Jeremiah’s hands, still pressing futilely against his neck, end up trapped between them. Jerome - surprisingly, sickeningly - gently urges Jeremiah’s head down onto his shoulder as he convulses, and over the awful, wet sound of his desperate attempts at breath, Jeremiah hears Jerome shushing him softly.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he says, rubbing a hand almost tenderly down his back. “That’s it. Just relax. Give in. Let it happen.”

Jeremiah tries to pull away, but he’s so weak that he can’t even hold his hands up to his neck anymore. His fingers are still twitching, but he can’t help but let them drop

he wouldn’t have been able to get far even if Jerome had still been human. As it is, Jerome just squeezes him tighter, holding him up.

“Just close you eyes.”

Jeremiah does close his eyes. Not because he was told to, but because he can’t bear to look at Jerome as he dies.

From the sequel (basically this au’s version of Jim’s kidnapping and beating scene):

Goodbye, James. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Galavan turns and walks away. He gets halfway across the warehouse before he stops and turns back.

“Ah, what the hell,” he says, walking back towards him. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, James. I’m going to leave you here, in the company of your esteemed colleagues, and I’m going to go. I’m going to go kill Bruce Wayne, ensure my rightful place in Gotham is reclaimed, all of that, and then I’m going to come back.”  

He reaches out and takes hold of Jim’s face, fingers digging in painfully. Jim tries to pull away, as futile as he knows the action is.

“I’m going to come back, and if you’re still alive when I do, I’ll keep you.”

Jim refuses to give Galavan the satisfaction of seeing him react to the threat, using every ounce of his remaining self-control to lock down his horror, the fear born of experience and understanding of exactly what kind of monster Theo Galavan is that has all manner of images flash through his head. If the smirk on the vampire’s face is anything to go by, he’s not entirely successful.  

“So, it’s your choice, Jim.” Galavan steps in closer, brushing a thumb across his cheek and dangerously close to his mouth. “You can give up, close your eyes, let that final darkness take you as these men beat you and hurt you and no doubt do all sorts of terrible and painful things to you. Or you can keep fighting, keep holding on, keep being stubborn, and spend the rest of your life as my toy. My pet. Right up until the moment I get bored. Then I’ll kill you. Or give you to my sister to play with.”

Galavan pats him on the cheek, then slaps him hard enough that it leaves Jim’s ears ringing. Eyes squeezed shut, head spinning, Jim doesn’t see Galavan actually leave. He does hear him though.

“Be creative as you want, gentlemen. Just don’t make it quick.”

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

Jim doesn’t say anything else, and Bruce is glad. Jim could. He should, and Bruce would deserve it all. But he doesn’t. He just sits there quietly, stroking Bruce’s leg through the blankets, offering silent comfort. Maybe Jim just understands better than most that you can’t always help who you love.

This is from my post-Ace Chemicals fic One Hand on my Cheekbone, One Hand on the Rope (also can I ask, is it weird to cry over your own fic when rereading it? because I literally do with this one, every time. I’m just really emotional about Bruce Wayne I guess)

I just really like a lot of things about this section of the fic where Jim comes to check on Bruce. I’m all about Bruce and Jim’s relationship, and I think Jim is well placed to understand Bruce’s guilt and depression in a way no other character really can, which is why I ended on the two of them. This paragraph in particular comes on the heels of Bruce admitting, out loud, that he loved Jeremiah, and Jim acknowledging that he knew. The concept of loving someone even though they have done horrific things, even though they have done horrific things to you is applicable to Bruce in this case, but also to Jim, who can understand that particular kind of pain (I mean, pick your Jim/villain ship, but also, parts of Jim loved Barbara and Lee for long after their relationships ended, and even after they started hurting him and others)

Because it’s not even in the “despite the horror” sense. What Bruce is feeling, what Jim sympathises with is a particular grief that comes from a betrayal like that, from the loss of what could have been, from the love and the good memories that are still there. I think this paragraph encompasses this quite well.

8. Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

Partially. I write what I enjoy, what I want to see or read, what I think a fandom might be lacking (for want of a better term) in terms of content. For instance, I write predominately dark fic, or at least heavier or porny fic, because that’s the kind of fic I enjoy reading most (though I have a mostly fluffy - by my standards - fic in the works that involves Batgirl Babs, the Riddler getting his ass beat by teenagers, and some Gordon family hugs). But I will read other styles, other genres. There are certain tropes I just won’t read for various reasons, and some kinds of fics I have to be in the right mood to read, but as long as it’s decently written and it involves characters/ships/scenarios I’m interested in, I’ll usually give it a go (particularly if it’s a small fandom or ship and I’m desperate for more content)

[cjdemooi]

The problem with performing

When I told a few friends in the entertainment industry I was going to write this piece, they begged me not to post it. They all agreed with what I wanted to say but desperately tried to persuade me I had to ‘play the game’ and under no circumstances criticise those who might be in a position to give me a job.

However, I found myself in an unfortunate yet unique position. After the last 4 years and through no fault of my own, I’m utterly toxic so can speak out with no consequences. After all, I can’t get more unemployable! If I was willing to play tedious games, I’d still be on television, have regular auditions and a career. Now I’ve been permanently deprived of those and am no longer willing to work with people I don’t trust, there’s nothing to keep me quiet or compliant. That rules out large swathes of opportunities but so what?

Smiling sweetly while being dismissed as a worthless commodity is something performers endure every day. The simple fact is, if you’re not willing to toe the line and do what’s expected, there are countless others who will. My response is, and always has been, screw that! The performance arts aren’t jobs, they’re callings. From a very early age, we all knew what we wanted to be and that fire only grew more intense. Of course there are sacrifices to be made but a line has to be drawn somewhere. I personally don’t believe that integrity and personal ethics are worth giving up for a dream.

Please understand that is only my view and I don’t in any way diminish those who strive tirelessly to succeed. Decisions have to be made and weighed up against such incredibly fine margins that distinctions become blurred. I’ve made my choices but each to his or her  own. 

I spoke out and criticised the BBC for the lack of same sex representation and racism. I lost my job because of it and was subjected to a smear campaign of lies in the national press. The implicit threat was, we pay you so do as you’re told. That’s a price very few people would be able or willing to pay and ultimately, I couldn’t afford it either. I lost everything because I didn’t shut up as was demanded of me. Honestly though, I don’t regret it.

Actors are treated with utter disdain. The recent interview with Mena Massoud in which he revealed he hadn’t had a single audition since Aladdin is a case in point. If the lead in a billion dollar movie is struggling to be seen, what chance does anyone else have? I have an impressive and award nominated CV but 4 auditions in 5 years speak for themselves and yet I’m still relatively lucky. Thousands of others are in far worse positions. 

Recently there has been a campaign to persuade casting directors and producers to let auditioning performers know if they haven’t been successful. Hanging around, waiting and hoping to hear about a role is not only frustrating, it causes people to miss out on other opportunities. A bulk email would take 5 minutes and allay a lot of fears but such a simple courtesy seems beneath a lot of people. We don’t need an apology or meticulous dissection of our technique. Just a quick ‘Sorry, not this time’ is all that’s required!

My worst experience, and there have been more than I care to remember, was a few years ago when I was called in for the national tour of Rent. I was sent 3 songs and dialogue for an audition 4 days later. I worked hard and managed to learn it all, travelling to London the night before to prepare. The next morning I had a singing lesson to warm up and set off up Tottenham Court Road. Literally as I was about to knock on the door, I received a text saying the producer had changed his mind and didn’t think I was right for the role. After all that effort, they wouldn’t even allow me 5 minutes to show what I could do. I was incensed so emailed him back expressing my disappointment and asking where I should send the invoice for my time and expenditure. He replied with indignant pomposity saying that was the way things were and if that’s how I was going to be, he was glad he didn’t have to work with me but I sent him the bill anyway. 

Of course this damaged my reputation with him and many others he spoke to but the fact he considered it completely acceptable to treat hard working professionals in such a manner was unforgivable. You may not want to work with me but I assure you, the feeling’s more than mutual. As actors, all we want is a chance. If we’re not good enough, fine but at least give us a few moments to try and impress you. 

I’ve burnt my bridges with a lot of industry professionals because I’m strong willed (or arrogant, depending on which side of the desk you’re sitting) but I’ve never once wished I’d kept my mouth tightly closed and my opinions to myself. I’m nothing if not brutally honest and direct. No doubt that attitude has cost me a lot of roles. 

A casting director who’d rather give a job to someone who’s become available from another production rather than sit through 3 days of auditions because the pay’s the same either way. A producer who consistently advertises jobs without pay because he’ll still be inundated with eager young things desperate for their break. A director who rehearses for 10 days then cuts your role to the bare minimum in order to give himself a big scene (and yes, this happened to me in panto in Clacton) Playwrights who promise you a script then go back on their word expecting you’ll bend over backwards to assure them it’s all fine. If nobody has to face any consequences, where is the incentive to change?

Too often, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. Although thankfully no longer as common as it once was, it’s also not what you know but who you’re willing to sleep with. I wish that this wasn’t true but I can say from personal experience and stories from others that it most certainly is.

Potentially the most harmful barrier is the competition, very little of it healthy, between artists themselves. This rarely produces a buoyant environment of support for each other. It’s always been a case of how can I knock the other person down rather than raising myself up? I can reluctantly understand why this would be the case when trying to secure an audition but it happens all too frequently when there’s no direct or obvious rivalry. The whole industry seems to be predicated on survival of the fittest, so talent and kindness are often reduced to irrelevancies. I truly believe most performers are caring and encouraging but they’re battered down by a system that’s relentless and ruthless. The fact may very well be that I’m not good or obedient enough to succeed as an actor and those who are clever and subtle enough manipulate the system to their own advantage are the ones who will make it big. I honestly congratulate them as they’re better and more skilled than I ever will be.

We are taught there are standards to be upheld such as unrealistic body image or heteronormativity and these have been immensely damaging in the past. Fortunately, at least in this aspect, times are changing. I’ve been honoured to work with some amazing and nurturing people who’ve actively fostered workplaces of support and inclusivity. I hope these very positive models will soon represent the rule over the above examples rather than the exception. 

The problem is, drama schools are churning out increased numbers of students every year. They’re not taught how to cope in the outside world and find themselves ill equipped to vie for a finite number of jobs. The vast majority hold down multiple jobs just for a brief glimpse of their dreams. The time between sinking into debt during drama school and having to give it all up in order to live is probably only 3 or 4 years. That’s an cruelly narrow window to achieve something they’ve been yearning after for decades. The harsh reality is, most will never have a professional contract and will all too soon have to give up in order to survive. Surely casting directors and producers can appreciate that and at least give a few more chances to a few more desperate people?

I know these aren’t popular opinions but I believe them to be the truth. I refuse to play those ridiculous games pretending everything’s fine and not making waves with anyone with the power to employ me. I’m under no illusion that this article will obliterate any slim chance I had of ever working again so that gives me a free pass to call out what I believe to be wrong with the industry I love. Only when we come together in respect will we move forward in solidarity and strength. Performing is one of the very toughest communities to be a part of so I beg you, please, treat everyone in it with consideration and they’ll do the same in return.

 We all deserve that.

[chokememrstark]

A take on Infinity War - Loki

This is not something I expected to do, but here I am anyway. Because there are some things that I need to get out about those first ten minutes of IW, if only for my own mind to let go of them. I know it’s probably all been said before, in this case just ignore my rambling and see it as therapy for my broken heart.

First things first though: Yes, this will talk about Loki’s death scene in detail, but there will not be gifs thrown at you. I will link images/gifs for reference, however, so if you wish to see what exactly I am talking about you can do so. It’s your choice though, I will not force you to look at them, I promise. The paragraph will also be marked with a warning, so you can skip over it.

Now, let’s begin this analysis (from my personal POV, obviously) that will hurt me much more than it will hurt you, I promise.

I want to start out with the scene in which Thanos says “The Tesseract, or your brother’s head. I assume you have a preference?” to which Loki replies with: “Oh, I do. Kill away.”

For a split moment Thanos is surprised and when he starts torturing Thor, Loki smirks. This smirk, however, is not because he enjoys seeing his brother in pain, it’s because in this moment he still things he can trick Thanos.

When his eyes fall on Thor though, his smile fades and is replaced with a painful expression.

Until eventually, Loki can’t take it anymore and yells “ALRIGHT, STOP!”

In this particular scene, I would like to draw your attention to Loki’s eyes. They say so much more about what’s going on inside of him than words ever could:

We can see the fear and panic creep into him, we see his eyes twitching and shimmering. Loki can pretend all he wants, he cannot watch his brother die, it’s impossible. No matter how strong he wants to be and how much he wants to keep his marquerade alive, he can’t do it.

The absolute relief when Thanos finally lets go of Thor’s head is proof enough for that. His shoulders sink, he closes his eyes and sighs, his whole posture changes from “OH GOD NO!” to “THANK GOD”.

There is, of course, the question as to why Loki would even try to trick Thanos when he should know better, but the following scene shows us exactly why. Thor believes the Tesseract was destroyed on Asgard and Loki did not want him to realize that it was not.

There is so much shame and pain on Loki’s face in this. He knows he is disappointing Thor, he just knows it and it’s nothing he wanted to do.

Here, when he gets ready summons the Tesseract, his eyes are still on Thor, but...

When he finally does it, he cannot look at him. He looks down instead, with the shame we have seen on his face before, and only looks at Thanos when it’s done, not at Thor. We can only imagine how much Thor’s next words must have hurt him.

“You... you really are the worst, brother.” (or alternatively, to make it even worse: “You really are the worst brother.”)

And still, Loki has some of his confidence left when he says: “I assure you, brother, the sun will shine on us again.”

This confidence shows when Thanos calls Loki ‘Asgardian’, where we see Loki reject this word completely and not without a hint of pride on his face and in his voice. He brings the Tesseract out of Thanos’ reach, saying: “Well, for onc thing: I’m not Asgardian.”

After he says: “And for another... we have a Hulk.” we clearly see how little that damn blue cube truly means to him. When he drops it to the ground and tackles Thor out of the way he makes a choice, one that is inevibably the one he was going to make all along, but one that surprised Thanos nonetheless. Loki doesn’t even look at the Tesseract anymore, he just drops it and moves. It’s not important to him at all.

Those scenes are very important for multiple reasons. First, of course, is Loki’s choice to save his brother, instead of the Tesseract. But, it also shows us something about Loki’s acceptence of himself. He has called himself Loki of Asgard in Avengers, this is how Thanos knows him. Now, by rejecting his Asgardian heritage, Loki shows Thanos that he is not the man he knows anymore, that he is someone else. He is not his puppet anymore.

After this, Loki disappears for almost three and a half minutes. We do not know what he does while Heimdall dies and Hulk is sent to earth, but when he appears again something is different. Loki is almost cheerful, smiling and optimistic. 

He is offering his help on Earth, which some might say is another moment in which he betrays Thor just to save his own skin. But there is so much more behind this. Loki doesn’t expect Thanos to fall for this offer, he knows better than that. And he witnessed what happened in the minutes prior to this, how he killed Heimdall in cold blood. And still, when Thanos asks him if he considers failure experience, Loki shows that no, he does not consider failure experience, he considers experience experience.

All this though, is mainly a way to get close to Thanos again. Loki is anything but dumb, he knows that Thanos is too strong for them, that he could never possibly kill him. And still, he tries because this time he does not fight to save himself, he fights to save his brother. His speech, although seemingly directed at Thanos to prove his loyalty, is in reality directed at Thor and him alone.

When Loki says: “Odinson...” he looks at Thor, only at him. He finally, after all this time, accepts himself as Odinson, something he has rejected ever since he found out the truth about his heritage and has suffered through the pain coming with it.

This look says it all. It’s an apology he cannot word any different. It’s Loki asking Thor to forgive him for what he is about to do. It’s Loki saying ‘There is no other way, brother’. It’s Loki saying ‘I love you’.

And Thor understands. No matter how Loki’s words must sound to him, as soon as he sees the knife appearing in his brother’s hands, Thor knows and he is scared to death. We do not hear him, but his expression makes it clear that he says/thinks “No!”.

And then comes a moment that is very, VERY important in my eyes. Look at this. Look at Loki’s face right before he is about to stab Thanos.

Especially, once more, look at his eyes.

Now, this comes from personal experience, but please hear me out! When I watched this the first time, I cried. From the beginning to the end, I cried. Fifteen minutes of crying. And later, when I looked into the mirror, do you know how my eyes looked? Like this. Exactly like this.

Whatever Loki did during those 3 1/2 minutes that he was gone, this moment shows me that part of it was crying. Because he realized there was only one way to protect his brother, only one way to save his life. He still has tears in his eyes here, it couldn’t be any clearer how heartbroken Loki is and how much he knows that what he is about to do will turn out horribly.

Loki is scared, he still is when Thanos stops him and grabs his wrist, but despite his fear and looking his upcoming death right in the eye, Loki stares him down with everything he has left.

This is a face that says: “I won’t let you do this, I won’t let you hurt him anymore.” This is a face that says: “I will not stop fighting you.” And this is a face of pure and absolute determination.

Even when Thanos twists his wrist and Loki is in pain, he does not look away, he does not give in. This is the ultimate moment, this is what he has to do to save Thor. And he will not back out, not this time. For once, Loki will not run away.

----- WARNING: Loki’s Death Scene Coming Up -----

At this point, Loki knows that he will not make it out of this alive. When Thanos flicks the knife out of Loki’s hand and grabs his throat, Loki is terrified. We do not see his face close up, thankfully, but we still see his eyes widen and hear his gargling gasp. And then, when Thanos lifts him up, we get a glimpse of just how scared Loki truly is.

Loki begins to struggle, he begins to fight. He lashes out, his self-preservation kicks in against all odds and he trashes around violently, grabbing Thanos desperately, gasping for air. It’s a moment that is shattering to watch, because it shows just how much Loki panics and how helpless he is in the end.

(References: Gif 1, Gif 2, Gif 3)

He has no chance, he never had one. Thor is forced to watch Loki struggle, forced to stay silent, but we see how it affects him. We see him shaking, we see him pleading in silence for this to stop, but he’s rendered completely helpless too and can only watch everything unfold in horror.

Thanos, of course, enjoys the suffering on Thor’s face and smiles, turning to Loki. When the camera goes back to Loki, we can see just how cruel what Thanos does to him really is. Loki’s eyes are starting to get bloodshot, a result of the force that his throat is squished with and of the pressure that made several blood vessels in his head burst, including his eyes. (Still 1, Still 2)

When he speaks (”You will never be a god”), his voice is almost inaudible, a croaky and hoarse whisper with the last word even less than that. Thanos cuts off his air supply, Loki can barely breathe anymore and his larynx (which is connects the pharynx to the trachea and is responsible for the tonality and pitch of one’s voice) is being squished. That he even manages to speak is a miracle in itself, but the way his voice sounds is ominous and dooming.

We all know what happens next. The snap. Thanos does this so easily, without any effort and it’s the sound of Loki’s neck breaking that marks the end of this gruesome and brutal death. And here, we finally see the true devastation this strangulation has caused.

(Reference Image)

Loki’s eyes are now completely blooshot, he bleeds from his eyes and his nose, the veins on his forehead are standing out and his mouth, too, is filled with blood. His skin has turned into a gray-ish color, a result of his lack of oxygen and bloodflow into his head. And, if you look at his left eye closely, you may see a slightly darker streak on his cheek below it, one that is not bloody. Yep, tears too.

This illustrates perfectly just how brutal and painful Loki’s death truly is. What we see is not even a fraction of what Loki felt. Being strangled like this is by no means painless and not only that, it’s not a fast process either. Thanos let him feel everything in an agonizing and horribly slow way, he not only slowly suffocated Loki, but he also caused more and more blood vessels in his head to burst one by one, nothing any of us would want to experience while being held in the air by anyone.

And Thor? Thor watched everything.

Thor screams and we can see that this scream hurts himself too, shown by the blood dripping down his chin from beneath the metal muzzle. When Thanos finally drops Loki in front of Thor, we see nothing of the trickster we know anymore.

(Reference Image)

But, before we go further, I have to mention one last thing. Yes, it has been said before, but I will say it again. Even after all of this, Loki might have still been alive. He could have survived the neck snap and choking, but they might have left him paralyzed and with his trachea crushed, ultimately leaving him to slowly suffocate without being able to move or speak or give away any hint that he was not dead yet.

After Thanos and the others disappear, Thor’s restrains fall off and he falls down next to his brother. This is one of the most heartbreaking moments, because when Thor crawls towards his brother, we can watch him slowly fall apart.

I made a separate gifset of this whole scene here, but I will use some gifs of it to illustrate my thoughts here too.

Thor’s desperate clutching at Loki’s chest, how he slowly moves his hand to feel him, is horrible to watch. You can see that he still begs this is not real, that he still hopes against all hope that Loki did not die, that it was just an illusion and nothing more. He whispers his brother’s name one last time, but when he gets no reaction it begins to sink in that this is not a trick. And this is when Thor breaks.

When he drops his head and collapses on his brother’s body, Thor has given up completely. The realization that Loki is dead is too much for him. For Thor, it’s like the world has ended and he accepts his own death as a consequence, refusing to leave his brother’s side. He is willing to stay with him until the bitter end, willing to die in this explosion just so he will not be alone.

Because without Loki, Thor has nothing left in this world. Without Loki, everything becomes meaningless. His home is gone, his parents and friends and everything he fought for is gone and now his brother, the only one he had left, is dead in his arms too. There is no hope anymore for him.

And the worst thing is, Loki might have still witnessed all of this; trapped in his dying body, unable to speak, unable to move. He might have felt Thor’s desperation, his tears and his hands on him, without any chance to show it.

----

And this concludes it. As I said, most of this has most likely been said before and I know this is just another one of those long and pointless analysis posts that we probably have in the millions by now, but I had to do it. Those are my personal views on this, so if you don’t agree it’s perfectly fine (just don’t hijack this one please, it took quite some time to get this right and I would rather have it the way it is, thanks)

[the-desolated-quill]

Quill’s Swill - The Worst Of 2018

Congratulations dear reader. You survived 2018. And you know what that means. It’s time for another best of/worst of list. Welcome to Quill’s Swill 2018. A giant septic tank for the various shit the entertainment industry produced over the course of the year. The films, games, TV shows and various other media that got on my bad side. As always please bear in mind that this is only my subjective opinion (if you happen to like any of the things on this list, good for you. I’m glad someone did) and that obviously I haven’t seen everything 2018 has to offer for one reason or another. In other words, sorry that Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes Of Grindelwald isn’t on here. I’m sure it is as terrible as some have been suggesting. I just never got around to watching it.

Okay everyone. Grab your breathing masks and put on your rubber gloves. Let’s dive into this shit pile.

Hold The Sunset

The news that John Cleese would be returning to the world of BBC sitcoms was incredibly exciting, being a massive Fawlty Towers fan and all. Unfortunately Hold The Sunset was not quite what I had in mind. It’s one of those rare breed of situation comedies that chooses to offer no actual comedy. It’s not a sitcom. It’s a sit. Like Scrubs or The Big Bang Theory.

An elderly couple plan to elope abroad only for Alison Steadman’s son to barge in, having left his wife, and forcing them to put their plans on hold. Hence the title ‘Hold The Sunset.’ It’s like a cross between As Time Goes By and Sorry, but if all the humour and relatability were surgically removed by a deadpan mortician. The characters are weak, the plots are thin on the ground and the humour (hat little of it there is) feel incredibly dated. The middle aged mummy’s boy is something that hasn’t been funny since the 90s. It’s an utter waste of great talent and what hurts even more is that this tripe is actually getting a second series. I can only assume the people watching this are comatose. Either that or there’s an epidemic of people in Britain who have lost the remote.

Avengers: Infinity War

Yes this is one of the worst movies of 2018 and no I don’t regret saying that one little bit. Avengers: Infinity War was fucking terrible. Period. There were too many plots and characters going on, which made the film hard to follow (and what staggers me is that the so called ‘professional’ critics have condemned movies for having too many characters and plots before. Spider-Man 3, The Amazing Spider-Man 2, Batman vs Superman: Dawn Of Justice and even Deadpool 2. But because this is an MCU movie, it gets a free pass. Fuck off). The characterisation was weak due to sheer number of characters they try to juggle, resulting in characters coming off as one dimensional caricatures of themselves and scenes where characters such as Iron Man, Doctor Strange and Star-Lord sound completely interchangeable. The villain, Thanos, is a stupidly and poorly written villain, but that’s hardly surprising considering what a shit job Marvel have done building him up over the course of these 20+ movies. And let’s not forget that pisstake ending. A bunch of prominent Marvel characters die and it’s all very, very sad... except all these characters just so happen to have sequels planned, which makes this ending fucking pointless and have less impact than a feather on a bouncy castle.

I don’t know which is more shocking. That Marvel and Disney think their audience are that stupid and gullible, or that their audience are actually validating their view. Fuck you Disney.

Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery

I’ve always wanted a Harry Potter RPG, where you could customise your character, choose your house and actually live a full school life at Hogwarts. This year, Warner Bros and Jam City gave us just that.

That was a mistake.

Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery is the epitome of everything that’s wrong with the mobile gaming market right now. The gameplay is boring and involving where you just tap images on a screen until a progress bar fills up. Wizard duels are little more than rock-paper-scissors challenges that require no kind of skill. Bonding with friends and caring for magical creatures just consist of pathetically simple pop quizzes and yet more boring tapping. Oh and of course you only get a certain amount of energy to complete these tedious tasks. If you run out of energy, you wait for it to fill up... or pay up for the privilege. So determined are they to extract your hard earned cash from your wallet, there’s actually a bit where Devil’s Snare strangles your eleven year old avatar and the game effectively tries to guilt trip you into paying micro-transactions to save them. It’s sleazy, gross and manipulative. Honestly, you’re better off just playing Candy Crush.

Agony

When the developers of this game said they wanted to give the player a trip through Hell, they had no idea how true that statement really was. Agony is dreadful on a number of levels. The design for Hell itself, while visually interesting at times, is often not very practical and gets quite dull and repetitive after a while. The stealth mechanics are a joke and the AI of your demonic enemies are pitiful. All of this alone would have been enough to put this game on the list, but then we also have the casual misogyny. Agony is a gorefest trying desperately to shock the player. We see men and woman get tortured, but it’s the women that often get the extreme end. The violence inflicted on them is often sexual in nature and the game seems to go out of its way to degrade and dehumanise women at every turn. The orgasmic cries of ‘pull it out’ quickly become a staple of the game’s experience as we see naked women raped, tortured and murdered, all for the purposes of ‘entertainment.’

I would call Agony sexist, but honestly that would be giving it too much credit. Agony is like a little child trying desperately to be all dark and edgy in a pathetic attempt to impress everyone around him, and we should treat it as such. Go to your room Agony. No ice cream for you.

Peter Rabbit

If you listen closely, you can hear the sound of Beatrix Potter rotating in her grave.

Yes we have yet another live action/CGI hybrid, but instead of something innocuous like the Smurfs or Alvin and the Chipmunks, Sony instead decides to adapt Peter Rabbit, with James Corden in the title role.

It’s about as bad as you’d expect.

Their attempts to modernise the story are painful to say the least with pop culture references, inappropriate adult humour and twerking rabbits. Plus rather than the gentle, but slightly mischievous character we got in the source material, here Peter is a sociopathic delinquent who seems to revel in making the farmer’s life a living hell. He’s unlikable and unwatchable as far as I’m concerned and the film doesn’t in anyway earn the emotional moments it tries so desperately to sell to the audience. And the worst part is it’s getting a sequel.

Wait. Do you hear that sound? That’s the sound of Beatrix Potter tearing out of the ground, ready to kill whatever idiot came up with this shit.

Fallout 76

I was excited for Fallout 76. A MMORPG where players band together to rebuild society after a nuclear apocalypse. Could have been great. Pity it wasn’t.

Fallout 76 is a dreadful game. Not only is it a buggy, glitchy mess that requires a constant online connection to play, which could result in you losing hours of progress if your WiFi went down, it’s also unbelievably tedious, and that’s because there’s nothing to do in the game. There’s no other characters to interact with, the various robots and computers you come across are really little more than quest givers, there’s no actual plot so to speak, and because of the sheer size of the world and the number of players allowed on a server, the chances of you actually meeting any actual players is remote. And let’s not forget all the behind the scenes drama. Bethesda falsely advertising Fallout themed canvas bags and players getting shitty nylon ones. Bethesda accidentally releasing the account information of various players trying to get a refund for said bag. Bethesda failing to program the year 2019 into the game code, meaning that the game’s nukes don’t work.

Maybe there’s a chance that Bethesda could pull a No Man’s Sky and fix everything over the coming years with various patches and DLCs, but the damage has already been done. It’s incredibly disappointing. The Elder Scrolls 6 is going to have be fucking incredible to win everyone back.

Mama Mia!: Here We Go Again

I can’t stand jukebox musicals anyway, but Mamma Mia was always one of the worst. Its boring, meandering story with its one note, obnoxious cast of characters screeching out ABBA songs like they’re at some drunken karaoke session at some poor sod’s hen party has always grated on my nerves. So imagine my delight when they announced we were getting a sequel. Ever wondered how Meryl Streep met her three lovers and founded her hotel? No? Well tough shit, we’re going to tell you anyway.

Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again is basically just Mamma Mia again. The actors still can’t sing, the characters are still annoying and story is still boring and meandering, completely at the mercy of the chosen songs rather than the filmmakers using the songs to compliment the story (you know? Like proper musicals do?).

How can I resist you? Very easily as it turns out. Gimme, gimme, gimme a fucking gun so I can end my misery.

The Cloverfield Paradox

A lot of people were unhappy about the direction Cloverfield was going. They wanted a continuation of the found footage, kaiju movie from 2008, not an anthology series. I was personally all in favour. Partially because I thought the first Cloverfield was a tad overrated, but mostly because I thought it would be a great opportunity for more experimental film projects and could be a great launchpad for new writers and filmmakers. 10 Cloverfield Lane was a great start. Then The Cloverfield Paradox happened.

The Cloverfield Paradox is basically JJ Abrams trying to have his cake and eat it too. Maintaining the anthology format whilst connecting everything together in a ‘shared universe’ (yes, yet another shared universe). The result was a cliched, poorly edited and idiotic mess of a film that actually took away from the previous two films rather than added to them. Everyone hated it and, as a result, 2018′s Overlord, which was totes going to be part of the Cloververse, was made its own standalone film and Abrams double pinky promised to make a true sequel to the original Cloverfield. A complete and total disaster. No wonder it was a straight-to-Netflix film.

The Handmaid’s Tale - Season 2

This is probably going to be the most controversial entry on the list, but please hear me out because I’m not the only one who has a problem with this season.

I was reluctant to watch The Handmaid’s Tale simply because of how gruesome the original book was, but I forced myself to watch the first season and I thought it was pretty good. It remained faithful to the source material for the most part and included some nice additions that helped to expand the story and mythos. If it was just a one off mini-series, everything would have been fine. But then they made the same mistake as The Man In The High Castle and Under The Dome did where they commissioned another season and attempted to tell a story that goes beyond the book.

There’s a reason why the original story ended where it did. The Handmaid’s Tale isn’t meant to be an empowering story about women sticking it to the patriarchy. It’s a cautionary tale about how fragile our civil rights truly are and how easily they can be taken away from us. It’s designed to shock, not to satisfy. So seeing a handmaid blow herself up in a suicide bombing feels very incongruous and just a little bit silly. It would be like doing a TV adaptation of George Orwell’s 1984 where the first season followed the source material and then the second season turned Winston Smith into this heroic freedom fighter trying to overthrow Big Brother. It would represent a fundamental misunderstanding of what the book was about in the first place.

And then of course there’s the increased level of violence in Season 2, which many have complained about. In Season 1 and the original source material, the violence was justified. In Season 2, the motivation behind the violence has gone from ‘how can we effectively demonstrate how easily a fascist patriarchy can happen in the West?’ to ‘what brutal act can we inflict upon Ofglen to shock the audience this week?’ It’s purely for shock and nothing more. And with the showrunner (who I feel I should mention is a man) announcing that he has planned ten seasons of this, it seems that The Handmaid’s Tale is going to go even further with this depravity until it effectively becomes the equivalent of a Saw film.

The Handmaid’s Tale exists as a way of shining light on and critiquing misogyny in its most extreme form. Season 2 however demonstrates that there is a serious risk of it becoming the very thing it’s criticising in the first place.

The Predator

I love the Predator franchise, but The Predator is the worst.

People thought that this would be good because director Shane Black had actually starred in the first Predator movie back in 1987. Instead we got this bloated, confusing, obnoxious and insulting mess of a film that seems to go out of its way to ruin everything that makes Predator so good. There’s no tension. No suspense. No intrigue. Just a bunch of gore, explosions and shitty one liners from annoying and lifeless characters. They essentially took this big alien game hunter from outer space and turned him into a generic monster from a bad summer blockbuster. It no longer hunts for sport. It wants to take over the world and splice our DNA with theirs. But don’t worry, a rogue Predator doesn’t want to kill humans (even though he himself kills a bunch of humans), so he gives us a Predator Iron Man suit to set up a sequel that will probably never happen because this movie was a box office bomb and it fucking SUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKEEEEEDDDD!!!

This film also has a very nasty streak towards those with disabilities. There’s a lot of jokes at the expense of a character with Tourette’s and it has an extremely ignorant and patronising view of autism, portraying the main character’s kid as being a super genius who can decipher the Predator language and even going so far as to say that he represents ‘the next stage of human evolution.’ Presumably the Predators want social communication difficulties because apparently it helps them hunt somehow.

What with Disney acquiring 20th Century Fox, the future of both the Alien and Predator franchises were very much in question. This film needed to be a success in order to make a case for Disney to keep making more of them. It wasn’t. Congratulations Shane Black. You might have just killed off this franchise for good. Thanks arsehole! :D

So those were my least favourite stories from 2018. Join me on Wednesday where we shall discuss something more positive. Yes, it’s awards season. Who shall win the coveted Quill Seal Of Approval? Watch this space...

Or don’t. It’s up to you. I don’t want to force you or anything. It’s a free country.

[theramblingonesie]

Facing Our Making, Part 3: Makeup and Gender

Welcome to Part 3 of my makeup blog series! This week we’re going to poke at gender and makeup. But before I begin, let’s review parts 1 & 2, and check in about where we’re at:

1. Beauty standards are impossibly harsh and cause a lot of unnecessary pain.

2. Let womxn decide what they want to do with their own damn bodies and stay out of it. Unless they hire you for a consultation.

3. Wearing makeup is awesome

4. Not wearing makeup is awesome

5. Your gender presentation and basically any presentation of your body and behavior do not determine who you are and aren’t attracted to sexually. And no one is the (*^*^%^$#%$#&*&^&%% authority to determine that for you. If they try, remember that they’re judging and labeling you in relation to their own internal gender/sexuality struggles. More on this in today’s blog below.

6. How toxic masculinity ruins the day in relationship to makeup or not makeup needs to die, and YES womxn also support and host this behavior (internalized misogyny). Just because a person has a vagina or presents as femme does not mean they are exempt.

7. Womxn who wear makeup are not whores unless they are, in fact, professional whores. Professional whores keep the world turning, and bless em for it. The problem isn’t sex work. It’s violence against sex workers. Consider your complicity.  

8. Womxn are reclaiming the hell out of the word “Slut”, so don’t get caught being a dumb idiot who uses the outdated, violent, misogynist definition. 1000 years vagina dentata upon your entire household.

9. If you want sexual attention because you enjoy sex, then FUCK YEAH GIT IT!!!

10. “Pretty girls are dumb” is a myth that our society desperately seeks to nurture and maintain. This is rooted in dominance, power, control, and whorephobia. Stop it.

11. “Ugly girls are smart” makes no damn sense. Okay, yes I can see the backwards logic, but also if you listen to flat-earthers long enough you could even be like, “ok, I see where you’re coming from with that”.  

It is not lost on me that certain beauty trends and habits can trigger and enable body image problems, ranging in severity. After attending a panel discussion that featured a speaker from Media Girls Boston, I learned that girls as young as 9 are learning that they essentially need to brand themselves through social media so that they can merely exist. Saying this is a problem is an understatement.

I support makeup and rituals of adornment. I support a lot of things that, if used improperly with dangerous motivations, can result in severe consequences.

Understand that there’s a lot of nuance in subjects like this, and utilize your critical thinking brain when exploring such topics. Continue your personal research if you’re curious about any subcategory in this series that I have not addressed.

If issues of beauty standards and pressure are uncomfortable or triggering for you, or if you or a loved one believe they may be suffering from a body-image related disorder, please know you are not alone, and there are people out there who are ready and available to support you through this. Links and hotline numbers are available in the resource section at the end of this blog. -------------------------------------------------------------

“If we are all members of one body, then in that one body there is neither male nor female; or rather there is both: it is an androgynous or hermaphroditic body, containing both sexes [...] The division of the one man into two sexes is part of [our] fall.” --Norman O. Brown, in Love’s Body, 1966

Okay! Let’s talk about this super important element of the art and ritual of beauty:

Gender!

To Marie Kondo this: This subject does not bring me joy, and I do not want to write about it, but I feel that I have a responsibility to not play floor-is-lava about it. It does not even bring me the type of righteous rage that fuels me to furiously complete a post. It fills me with doubt, insecurity, self loathing, trust issues, and a desire to disappear.

I need to say this because I know I am not alone in my feelings and experience. But I will keep it very brief because I’d like to move on.

I have experienced a lifetime of pain from the bullshit pressure the heteropatriarchy puts on female bodies. I never anticipated the heartache I would experience as a result of being judged and denied by fellow queers.

I am too butch, too unfeminine to be accepted as the right kind of woman in heteropatriarchal society. I make men question their sexuality, and I am the one made to suffer for it. I am too feminine for queers to believe and accept me when I tell them I’m genderfluid (which I have been, quietly and privately, my entire life). I am not feminine enough to be femme.

Too much woman. Not enough woman. Not woman. Not human. Once again, my body and my soul are everyone else’s to judge, determine, and own. Not mine. 

And no one wants to listen when we say the world hates women.

I highly suggest looking up the toxic concept of femme invisibility in queer communities. You can start by reading this great article by Bust:

https://www.bustle.com/articles/166081-what-does-femme-mean-the-difference-between-being-femme-being-feminine.

For the record, I still use she/her pronouns. I stand by my allegiance to the fullness and diversity of womxnhood in a deeply ferocious way. My reasoning for that is both very simple and very complicated. So I guess that just makes it very complicated. Ask me how.

Mood.

Anyway, makeup.

About a month ago, I had wrapped a film shoot with some friends who flew up from Mexico. It was an incredible weekend that filled me up with so much bliss. On the drive back to Boston, I was chatting with my beloved friends and fellow Scarlet Tongue artists, Creature and Cass, about how much I enjoy the company of Mexican men. A large part of that is because it is refreshing to be around men who so easily embrace and express feminine qualities of articulating their emotions, accessing their emotions, gentleness and nurturing. Creature presented the important argument that such qualities don’t need to be classified as feminine or masculine; they’re simply personality and behavioral traits that anybody can have.

Such a point is absolutely crucial in untangling the oppressive nature of the gender binary.

Exercise:

The following traits have been classically designated as “masculine” or “feminine” behavior, but I’ve jumbled them together in the list below. Which traits do you believe belong to whom?

Reserved Warm Sensitive Utilitarian Deferential Apprehensive Reactive Emotionally Stable Serious Lively Socially bold Shy Rule-conscious Expedient Private Perfectionism Anxiety Group-oriented Self-reliant Tolerates disorder Vigilance Extraversion Traditional Grounded Agreeableness Neuroticism Excitement-seeking Attraction to aesthetics

Answer:

Hahahahah, I’m not going to give you the answer. It doesn’t matter.

Yes, hormones do impact some behavior. And YES, how we’re socially conditioned impacts which traits are more dominant. But the point is, there is an imaginary line between the two categories. The saddest reality is that, even though any human is capable of any of these traits on the list, society has determined that consequence and punishment must befall anyone who strays from their category. An enforced gender binary is dangerous.

Enter makeup.

Makeup has served infinite purposes throughout the course of history. It’s an incredible vehicle for expression, as well as radical social and political rebellion. Makeup has shaped entire movements of art, social justice, philosophy, and construction/deconstruction of body politics.

Your lipstick is more than patriarchal pigment in a tube. It is a tool for revolution.

Most people assume that makeup is only for clowns and cisgender women, and anyone else who uses it is simply a deviant who has “stolen” it.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Nononononononono

This probably won’t come as a shock to most of you, but yes-- Christianity also temporarily ruined makeup. Once upon a time, it was quite normal for men to wear makeup. Then the Jesus toe-suckers made up a whole bunch of arbitrary rules about what we currently observe masculinity and femininity to be, and here we are in this stinky pile of crap rules. 

I highly recommend reading this article to learn a tiny bit more of the history of men and makeup:

https://www.byrdie.com/history-makeup-gender

Who wears makeup and how people wear makeup has shifted so much throughout history, and the struggles we experience around this today have only been relevant for a hundred years or so. One of the most common forms of rebellion we hear of is when women reject traditional femininity. Whether “burning our bras”, shaving our heads, or growing out our armpit hair, this is not an uncommon experience for a lot of women. The scandal!! The pet has escaped her cage!! So many women I know have experienced an anti-femininity phase at least once in their lives. Sometimes this “phase” transitions into a permanent rejection of gender norms, but it really varies from person to person. Often it’s set off by an overwhelming awareness of how much women are defined by superficial characteristics, traditionally determined and enforced by men. So we attempt to take ourselves out of the system by wearing neutral and aggressive clothing, switching up which parts of our bodies are hairy and which aren’t, and avoiding anything “girlie”. Revisiting my conversation with Aepril, my high-glam friend who inspired this blog and was mentioned in Part 1, she made a good point about honoring such an experience: “I went through a miserable phase in my feminist youth where I thought I was being uber feminist by not shaving or wearing makeup or wearing heels, etc, because to do so was giving into the patriarchy. I was miserable of course. It took my drag queen friends to wake me up to that, as I realized that they were willing to give up family, social status...their safety and even their lives for the privilege of expressing themselves in a glamorous, feminine way. While I had that privilege because I was born in a female body. I might be criticised by both men and women, but I wouldn’t be beaten in the street for transgressing gender roles. I realized how much it meant to me through seeing how much it meant to them. Why should I give that up either? Why should anyone have to?” In Aepril’s situation, she found that her place of authenticity was through femininity. In a world that is so divided between the shoulds and should-nots of who we’re supposed to be, I find it important to squeeze ourselves through and experience all sides so we can settle on what’s true for us. Then it’s no longer conformity; it’s an outlet.

In the 20th and 21st centuries, the use of makeup norms has been subverted to amplify voices that demand human rights and fair treatment. Its application has been largely linked to LGBTQ+ visibility and gay rights movements. The anti-Vietnam movement in the late 60s and 70s utilized makeup to display over-feminization and homosexuality as a way to avoid being drafted. The glam rock movement gave us icons like David Bowie, exposing and exploding restrictive gender norms through outrageous clothing and makeup, utilizing pop culture to spread ideas and acceptance of androgyny. “Female impersonation” has origins dating back to the 19th century in Europe, and the art of Drag Queens & Kings is alive and well today, celebrating, mocking, questioning, and expanding gender in clubs and theaters, in film, and right in our homes through TV favorites like Ru Paul’s Drag Race.

For our trans-sisters, the decision to wear makeup could have life or death consequences. As a transwoman friend of mine disclosed a few months back, when she’s walking down the street and hears a man call after her, her immediate thoughts turn to, “will I experience violence because I’m a woman? Or will I experience violence because he thinks I’m a faggot?” There is a lot of discussion in the trans community about the privilege of “passing”, and I believe these conversations have further supported the struggles womxn generally face-- does wearing makeup make you more or less of a woman? As writer Lux Alptraum points out, “the idea that external appearance is what makes someone a “real” woman is the very thing that many trans women have committed themselves to fighting. To the extent that makeup is an essential part of any trans woman’s gender identity or notion of her womanhood, it’s largely because that’s the message the rest of the world aggressively forces upon her.” Read the rest of this article at https://www.racked.com/2017/3/23/14937266/trans-women-makeup

Makeup is incredibly powerful. It can be used for protest, and it can be used for comfort. It’s daily wear, and it’s political. It’s an expression of freedom, and a bold face confronting restriction. It’s transformative, giving people the opportunity to live in the bodies and images that feel right and true for them. Makeup is art, an embracing of life and physicality, a way to show up, be counted, and be present. It’s an act of defiance, and an act of love.

I recently read that Facebook now has 56 gender identities one can choose from. Facebook blows, but wow that’s actually really awesome! Within that list, some of the more frequently used terms include:

Agender/Neutrois Androgyne/Androgynous Bigender Cis/Cisgender Female to Male/FTM Gender Fluid Gender Nonconforming/Variant Gender Questioning Genderqueer Intersex Male to Female/MTF Neither Non-binary Other Pangender Trans/Transgender Transsexual Two-spirit (Important: this is Native American. Don’t pull a Jason Mraz. Don’t appropriate)

Out of this list, the following folks are allowed to wear makeup:

All of them Everyone Anyone Everybody The General Public The Whole World Human Beings Aliens Animals but only if they’re actually humans in animal costumes

If you’re interested in following makeup artists on IG who are trans or gender non-conforming, here is a great starter list (partially sourced from wearyourvoicemag.com):

@ brownbeautystandards @ vlad_theunicorn @ jade_poncee @ makeupby_bran @ rosalynnemontoya @ miles_jai @ completedestruction 

Again, there are infinite reasons why people of any gender do and don’t wear makeup, and I’m not going to be an authority on the matter. But I hope some of this information helps you on your journey to understand yourself better, and hold space of greater allyship and tolerance for others.

Below are some links and phone numbers if you feel you need greater support for the topics being discussed in this blog series. Being beautiful is cool, and so is being safe. You deserve to be here, and you matter.

Enjoy your week, and we’ll see you back here next week for Part 4: Performance Artists and Makeup!

National Eating Disorders 24 hr Hotline: 1-800-931-2237

https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/body-image-0

TransLifeline Hotline: 877-565-8860

https://www.translifeline.org/

LGBT National Hotline: 1-888-843-4564

https://www.glbthotline.org/

National Suicide Prevention 24hr Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

http://sexworkersproject.org/resources/

[sergaybobrovsky]

the fifty ways to kiss someone 💏 for eitherrr

MY MUSE WILL KISS YOURS….

3…goodbye.

Quiet had never been so violent before. A good minute had passed since the end of the phone call, but the shot, loud and clear, was still ringing in his ears as if it had happened a fraction of a second ago. His grip on his phone tightened, but otherwise, against his better judgment, he remained still. The agent in him was frantically commanding him to move —- Carabella Lawson was dead, so the amount of time between now and the moment they would find him could not be large. The faster he would leave, the further he would get. Away from this godforsaken city, back home to his people that he hadn’t seen in thirteen years. 

Yet there he stood, a perfect replica of one of those ancient marble statues, his mind processing what had just happened and what, as a consequence, would soon unfold. Carabella Lawson was dead, shot in cold blood. Just seconds before her untimely demise, she had asked him about Noel Meyers. She had known which meant that they knew — they had most likely told her just before she had called him. It should have been a relief, to know that there was now one less person aware of his secret, but Noel could not bring himself to feel even a ghost of joy. Carabella Lawson had an abundance of flaws, but she truly had called him her son, even if the reciprocation of familial love had been a façade on his part. She had been blissfully ignorant to his real identity and early death was the compensation she had received for her service. For a moment, Noel squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in deeply. He might have not truly cared for her, but she deserved better than this. 

“Theo.” It was an echo of a sound, but it was enough to drag him back to the present moment from the black hole of thoughts that his mind currently was. A shaky exhale left his lips as the hold he had on his phone loosened. If his hand shook mildly when he lowered his arm and hand, placing the phone carefully on the nearby table, that was his and his own business only, now wasn’t it? “Theo.” The voice called out again, but this time he knew he had no excuse to not turn around and face what’s waiting for him. He didn’t want to, but he had no choice; not when they had most likely witnessed his immediate reaction to the phone call and, despite not knowing any of the actual details, guessed that something was horribly, terribly wrong. 

Another shaky motion of inhaling and exhaling happened before Noel gathered enough courage to lift his gaze up. And just like he predicted, the sight before him was another painful cut, another punch to his gut. Mari and Marc stood there; fear and worry and confusion and perhaps even a hint of panic on display through emotions visible on their faces. They don’t know what has just happened and what will happen very soon, but there they were, almost desperate to hear the story and comfort him. Tears well up in his eyes at that thought. If only he could confide in them with this secret, but he can’t. Carabella already fell victim to his games — she was somewhat expendable, but Mari and Marc were not. Therefore, he can’t trust them; he can only attempt to minimize the damage they will experience as a result of his actions. 

“I’m sorry.” Noel blurted out. His ability to think was returning — he really didn’t have much time left. Regardless of how much it hurt, he had to act quick. “I’m really, really sorry.” He repeated as his feet led him toward the corner of the room that was the furthest away from his lovers. As he reached the spot, he crouched down, his fingers gently tapping several times before he found it: the weak spot. Noel placed his left hand on the wall, an effort to steady himself, before curling his fingers into a fist and, with a swift movement, punching a hole to the wall. A gasp came from somewhere behind him — he couldn’t tell whether it had been Mari or Marc, didn’t have time to consider it. He reached inside the hole until his fingers were met with the fabric of the backpack and pulled it out. It was not the cleanest, but he had no time to polish it, aside from blowing away the worst of dirt. 

Noel threw the backpack over his shoulder and stood up straight, but rather than being able to move freely, both Mari and Marc there, effectively blocking his escape routes. Same emotions were visible as before, but now there was also a hint of anger, or perhaps frustration. “What the hell is going on, Theo?” Marc was the first to break the silence and, of course, with the worst possible question. Don’t ask me that, he begged within his mind. Ask me anything but that. I would tell you if I could, but I can’t. It’s for your own good. Desperation colored his features as he alternated between taking in Mari’s beautiful face and Marc’s handsome features, not only silently asking them to stop asking questions, but also filing away all the details for lonely nights awaiting in the near future; this was, after all, the last moment he would ever get to see the two faces that, against all odds, had come to mean the world to him. 

But all good things had to come to an end, including this relationship. A sigh of defeat escaped from Noel’s lips as he let the backpack fall to the floor. “Listen,” He started, his hand seeking out Mari and Noel’s to grasp them. He needed to feel that for the last time. “There is— something about me that I haven’t told you.” Where was his agent training when he needed it the most? “And I can’t tell you now either because when they come, the less you know, the better.” A shaky sigh. “I know that’s way too vague, but it’s all I can give you.”

“Before they broadcast whatever propaganda they’ve managed to cook up, I need you both to know this.” Noel dropped Marc’s hand and held Mari’s face between them. “I love you.” Before Mari could protest, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. It was a bittersweet kiss, one he both hated (for having that sour taste of impending separation) and loved (if he had to choose a way to go, drowning in her honey-tasting lips would be his number one choice). 

It was a great struggle to pull away from her, but it was a job he had to do. “No matter what they say or what they’ll try to make you believe, remember that I have never, ever lied about my love for you.” Noel continued as he let go of Mari and moved over to Marc. His thumb traced soft circles on the other man’s cheek as an invisible lump formed in his throat. “Please, don’t—” The rest of his sentence never made it out as his impulses forced him to lean forward and capture Marc’s lips into a heated kiss. It was a mirror image of Mari’s kiss; just as desperate, just as emotional. How was he supposed to give up this? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair.

The crackling sound of a government-controlled tv turning on and the image of the well-known tv host Kepler Leventis showing up on screen was a harsh reminder that his time was up, that their time was up. He pulled away from Marc and, as both Mari and Marc turned their attention toward the screen, picked up his backpack. “I love you.” Noel whispered as he stepped back. There was no way of knowing if they heard him, but he had to say it anyway. 

“I love you so much. Please don’t let them steal that from us.”

for @doriiangrayy & @rk800writes.