#butcher: i am become evil now

[pipivovott]

the boys s4 finale spoilers

ryan did nothing wrong tbh. he's been lied to and isolated his whole life. how else was he supposed to react when mallory and butcher not only dumped all of his father's wrongdoings on him, but actively tricked him with the intent of keeping him captive? and even then not JUST keeping him captive but forcing him into being a weapon against his own father? sure mallory/butcher were desperate for any means to take down homelander but it was super fucked up to put ryan in that position. homelander is the only living family that ryan has, and regardless of homelander's status as a shitty person it's clear that he cares for ryan in his own way

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part:𝟷𝟼

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (MINORS DNI), angst, hurt, language, mention of sexual assault (the deep, homelander)

Word Count: 5002

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

You did your best to ignore Ben throughout the past week, despite the fact that you have not spoken much. Despite your immediate interruption, Ben was eager to continue his conversation with you. Furthermore, with all of the Vought business, things were becoming crazy. Not much had changed with Mindstorm, even though you and Ben continued to appear on TV every night on the news.

Ben was difficult to deal with and had a difficult personality in general. Now he was willing to get a little intimate, and he wasn't pushing you away this time, which left you confused and angry. In the past, you always pushed hard to be with him in every minute and every second, as if you were obsessed with him, even though he was occasionally distant from you when he didn't like being with you. If he had stayed as the same jerk from decades before, it would be simpler.

Actually, you were upset with yourself for allowing yourself to be affected by him. It was quite simple for him to show you compassion and behave as though he genuinely cared about you. It's highly likely that you were the most naive or stupid person to fall for him. You had admitted to him that you no longer loved him, and you weren't even ready to be honest with yourself about it. But at least you knew this: you shouldn't forget the damage that he had done to your heart since it was far more severe and strong than anything he had ever made you feel.

“Hey, it looks like you're deep in thought. Are you alright?” As you two watched a movie together, Annie asked. 

Ben, Hughie, and Butcher had gone shopping before coming back. Ben asked you to go out with them since you haven't left the house for a very long time, but even though you really wanted to go out, you refused to spend time with them, with him in fact. As much as you could hear, Frenchie and Kimiko were in their rooms playing video games.

“I wasn't,” you held your head in a mumble. “Maybe I'm just tired.”

“It seems like you're missing going out,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You know, things may be a little rough around these places, but you wouldn't be noticed. You can take in some fresh air.”

You gave her a meek grin and lied, saying, “I'm not in the mood.” You were actually itching to leave the house and breathe some fresh oxygen. It was as though you were choosing to be in a cage. “It's better to stay here until things get a bit better at least.”

“I actually don't know if it will though, but let's hope.”

Annie went on, “By the way, I'm sorry for my attitude toward you, weeks earlier. I suppose I was a little impolite, rude, and judgmental of you.”

Her abrupt admission and apology surprised you, but it also made you feel a little better. You whispered, “It's okay; I would be meaner if I were in your shoes. I am aware that trusting someone is difficult.”

“Yeah, but I feel bad about it,” she added, looking shy and placing her hands on her legs. “I should not have treated you the same way since I know how comfortable the firm is with lying to the public about you for the sake of themselves. The things I went through while I was a member of the Seven were similarly horrible. It wasn't right to judge you right away, not when I know the dynamics between the public and the firm and how it feels.” 

Her genuineness toward you made your heart melt. “It's actually not that bad. Don't let it bother you. I'm simply relieved that you don't feel the same way about me anymore.” You asked her gently, wanting to build a connection, “What have they done to you?”

She inhaled deeply, looked around the room as if she were searching for words, and then blurted out, “I am..sexually assaulted.” 

You whispered, “Oh, god,” and supportively touched her hand. “Can I ask... who?”

“I'm not sure if you've seen him on television. The Deep,” she muttered scornfully. “And Homelander is no different than him.”

“Yes, I did see him on television. Fucking bitch fish,” you mumbled. “You mean Homelander is the same as him. Is he also..?”

“Don't tell Butcher that I told you; don't actually mention it ever, but his wife was raped by Homelander.”

Your mouth dropped open in disbelief, and you were silent for a long moment.

“That is.. horrible. I have absolutely no idea what to say.” At last, you murmured, “I can't believe Vought is full of disgusting vile men,” remembering Butcher's expression when you had questioned him about Homelander. He was quite right and had his own reason.

“Yes,” Annie said in a sour tone. “No matter how many decades have passed, Vought is still the same asshole, whether you're a Supe woman or not. In actuality, they have gotten worse.”

“Leaving them behind was the right decision, and having Hughie with you is a gift.” You mentioned their relationship in an attempt to lighten the mood. “He seems like a very gentle and kind guy,” you remarked. “It's a good thing he's not supe. He has to understand who is in charge.”

Annie blushed and laughed when you brought up her lover. “Yeah, he's unlike anyone else. He's one of the key reasons I am here. I'm happy we got to meet.”

“By the way,” she muttered in a lighthearted manner. “What about Soldier Boy and you? It's obvious there is something between you two, even if I know you're going to deny it. Do you have a friends with benefits thing?” 

Confused, you asked, “What is it?”

“Well, it's just a term for people you know who have sex but continue to be friends. You don't grow any feelings or attachments for each other. It's all about sex.”

After considering the phrase she used a moment to reflect, you finally responded, “No, no, actually we are not something like that.” Leaning back in the coach, you whispered, “It's a bit complicated, actually,” as you recalled every memory you had of him. Your cheeks heated and your heart raced as you recalled the last conversation you had with him, the time you orgasmed on top of him. 

Annie may have noticed the shift in the body and smiled slyly, “It's probably not that difficult. But I had assumed that he was with the Crimson Countess. They must have been fan favorites or something.”

Annie's mention of Crimson made you uneasy. Because Ben had chosen her over you, knowing she was gone didn't provide you any comfort. You felt awful, thinking back on those dreadful times and how badly Ben had broken your heart. It was difficult to embrace such memories. 

You murmured, “We were a thing,” and acknowledged it. “Before Countess joined Payback.”

She just exclaimed, “Oh,” in an astonished tone, after realizing what you meant. “He's a vile asshole.”

“Yeah,” was all you said. “So, we are no longer a thing. Until that situation gets solved, I'm just going to hide like this, like a submissive rat. I don't want to deal with anything, but I'm not sure what to do after. Though I sincerely hope you succeed in eliminating the Seven—especially those bastards—I no longer want to be a part of it. I hope you can understand my reasons.”

“Obviously, you don't have to participate in anything or do anything, but your strength and assistance would be really helpful. It will be simple to make amends after Homelander dies, and you'll be free. I only hope Soldier Boy can kill him off. If not, we're not even sure what to do.”

“He made a deal with Butcher and promised him to kill Homelander.” You were aware of Ben's strength, and you could not see any other Supe being able to damage or beat him. “Once he made up his mind for something, Ben never stops until he gets it done.” 

Annie responded, "That's a relief," and she smiled a little. "Hey, let's not miss the movie," she murmured, gazing at the TV.

You nodded and offered her a feeble smile. You quickly grabbed your phone off the pillow when you noticed a notification, glancing at Annie as she got back to eating popcorn and watching TV.

Naturally, it was Ben who sent the message.

“?Do you need something????”

How considerate.

After giving Annie one more look, you leaned back on the coach to take up a more comfortable position.

You typed, “No.” after giving it some thought and then waited for another notification.

He was typing, typing, typing and typing.. It was taking taking him to write something for so long you got frustrated at some point. Then you finally got another notification.

“?Sure?????”

Asshole. Instead of punching your phone, you took a long breath. Although you were itching to argue with him over the phone, you tried to divert your attention to the movie Annie was watching.

You received another notification almost five minutes later. Ben had sent a blinking eye emoji. It seemed as though he was aware of how angry you were at the moment. You let out an irate sigh, grabbed your phone, and informed Annie that you would be in your room.

With a sense of relief that your period had finally ended, you took a shower. Ben knocked on your door, which was already open, and you made a tiny sound to let him in just as you were getting out of the shower, wrapped in a short towel. 

“Hey,” he remarked in a low voice, clearing his throat and quickly shutting the door to ensure that no one would see you half naked and wet. Ben went straight to your room after learning that Annie and Hughie would be staying tonight. It surprised you that he didn't argue with them about his bedroom. “Why is your door open all the time? Someone might have saw you; you're almost naked.”

As you kept using the towel to dry your hair, you rolled your eyes at him. “If someone was watching me, I'd known it, Ben.”

“And,” you said as you raised an eyebrow. “Someone is already watching.”

Ben inhaled deeply as he searched for a way to express how you had managed to rile him up. Okay,.

“It's not the same,” he asserted in a quiet yet assured tone as he observed you discarding the towel you used to dry your hair on the bed and opening the wardrobe to find something to wear. “And why didn't you text me back?”

You muttered, “Tell me how it's different.” and glanced at him as he approached cautiously, his fingertips resting on the furniture. “And well, because I was busy.”

“You already know why,” he remarked, licking his lips as he kept examining your body. Refusing to remember your orgasm on top of him while you were just getting your period was making him hard. Considering that you had never had a period while being together for a considerable amount of time, he questioned why you would now be getting one after all this time. 

You merely replied, “No, I don't know,” hoping to provoke him just a little bit. 

He continued shamelessly, “We fucked and still get off together; that's why, baby,” and you blushed. “Though we are not very active compared to the past, which is upsetting of course.” 

You opened your lips to deny and dispute with him, but you stopped yourself after taking a deep breath. You knew he would try hard to make your cheeks blush even more. 

You found a t-shirt and some underwear, which you put on the bed while you shut the wardrobe. At last, you were able to remember Annie's comments and say, “We were friends with benefits.” 

If you were the same person today, you would actually detest the idea, but since you are more grounded in reality, you can accept the circumstances as they are. In contrast to you, he had never developed feelings for you, which proved Annie. 

“What the hell is that?” Ben asked in an angry tone. He thought your statement sounded terrible and didn't like it at all. Ben sat on your bed as you hurriedly put on your t-shirt and underwear. Ben's hard look on your bare back was palpable. 

“It means engaging in sexual activity without developing an emotional bond. You maintain your friendship while having sex nevertheless.” You essentially gave him an explanation of it as though you'd known about it for a long time. “Getting off together is included.” 

Ben winced as you described the most idiotic and stupid type of relationship as though it were the most ordinary thing imaginable. “Who taught you such stupid stuff?” He asked furiously, unable to help but feel irritated that you weren't bothered by it. 

“Annie told me about it.”

Ben groaned as he removed his shoes and lay down on your bed. “It's not shocking that an ignorant woman is bombarding your thoughts with modern nonsense. I should have known only she could say such a stupid fucking thing. That must be her relationship with Hughie. Fuck, it's not shocking that he can't open his mouth while he is with her. What a fucking weak pussy.”

“Oh, god, don't talk about them in this way. Ben, they have a connection, a real one, a healthy one,” you murmured as he spoke in the most irritating tone imaginable. It was annoying that he didn't even take into account the nature of your previous relationship. “For the record, he is not concealing his relationship with Annie and vice versa. She really did walk out of the Seven. The company most likely had no approval of their relationship.”

“Touché,” he replied, observing your face fall as you sat on the bed and cast a dejected glance in his direction. He continued, “But our relationship was... health too,” when you turned away from him and lay down in bed.

You mumbled, “Sure,” and settled up in bed as comfortably as possible. Ben's huge and strong body was covering the majority of already limited space. It took a lot of work to stay away from him. 

Ben sighed as he watched your back longingly and heard your slow, deep breathing, as if you were holding back all you wanted to say. He was prepared to start over, make adjustments, and put things right even though he knew he deserved your attitude and that it would be preferable to push them beneath the debris, but he wanted you back so badly.

Ben finally murmured, “I care about you,” struggling to find the right words. “Very much.”

Ben tried to tell you how he felt, but it was difficult because you were constantly pushing him away. 

You quickly turned to face him since you didn't want to look at the walls any longer. “Did you care about me when you fucked Countess?” 

“Oh god, I didn't even fuck her,” he exclaimed harshly as soon as you brought up the redhead wily bitch. Because Stan Edgar was causing so much trouble, he should have killed him. 

When he revealed that he hadn't fucked Crimson before, you gasped. You just kept staring at him in bewilderment and surprise, as though you were about to dispute with him. You managed to whisper, “Liar,” not sure if he was telling you the truth or not. 

With an upset voice, he added, “Fuck, I'm not lying,” and he placed his right hand under his head. “I was told to have a relationship with her for the media by Stan fucking Edgar. Son of a bitch.” 

Ben was telling you the truth, and you could tell by the look in his eyes. You had no idea what to say at all because he was acting so very serious right now. You always assumed they were going all the way since they were always kissing when they were together and posing for pictures with the media. 

“Why didn't you tell me this before?” you asked, glancing out the window behind you as Ben hesitated. 

“I know, it's still unfair,” Ben said, attempting, though he was never very successful, to express himself. “I wasn't fair to you. You remain the last woman I have touched, even after all this time. I'm not sure if that means anything now. That's all I need you to know.”

You mumbled, “It's still cheating, Ben.” After his admission regarding Crimson, words were difficult to come by. You didn't want to admit it, but it did feel a bit better knowing he didn't touch Crimson Countess.

Ben opened his mouth to deny it, but then he sighed as he saw your look, which was a mix of disappointment and sorrow. There was no turning back to undo the damage he had done. What was done was done. He only hoped he could figure out a way to get your love back the way it used to be—with all of your devotion, passion, honesty, and loyalty. 

You asked gently, almost in a desperate tone that would make you loathe yourself, “Why did you leave me?”

As he saw how vulnerable you were, Ben softened his gaze and shifted positions in the bed, hesitantly moving closer to your face. Thankfully, you didn't even flinch, instead looking at him expectantly, as if you were ready to forgive him and let everything go. But he was aware that you were not yet prepared for that. You needed time, and he could give you everything you needed.

Ben found it difficult to speak as his fingers gently traced your hand. When he finally confessed, “Stan Edgar knew our relationship,” he was unwilling to tell you how much he was mistaken about you and how manipulating he was about you at the time.

You asked gently, “Did he want you to be with Crimson?” as if you understood him. 

It wasn't necessary for you to know how Stan Edgar found out about you. It would be shocking if Stan was unaware of you and Ben during the final months of your relationship because you two were acting quite recklessly. 

“Yeah,” he responded simply, meeting your eyes with his darkened ones. He seemed ready to act as he continued to study your wet lips and hair. 

His face continued to inch closer to yours as his one hand traced around yours, but you remained motionless. He was cautiously gauging your response every second. 

You mumbled, “Yet,” unable to stop your heart from racing when he was that close. “I don't want to love you ever again.”

With a groan, his soft lips found yours before you could even finish your sentence, and you were left wondering who started the kiss first.

When he eventually realized you had kissed him back, even if it seemed like your kisses were doubtful and ghostly, his hard and tight hands on yours loosened. His tongue slipped into your mouth as he noticed you were willing to go one step further, intensifying the kisses.

When your hands came to rest on his thick beard, it was unclear who was moaning more loudly in the other's mouth. The way he kissed you was different from the other kisses you shared; it was more intimate, but there was still this passion. Perhaps it was because it had been too long.

This time, Ben's hands weren't as strong or harsh; instead, they were surprisingly patient, understanding, and caring.

Your hands stopped behind his thick neck and slid to his powerful and warm chest, and he slowly pushed you against the pillow and went on top of you, making sure everything was done correctly and that you were completely alright with it.

For a brief time, you withdrew yourself to catch your breath while your hands lingered around his clothed chest, perhaps in anticipation of his response. As you both gasped deeply, his swollen lips waited on yours. You both gave a loud groan as soon as he pressed his hardness between your legs. Your legs involuntarily spread a little to give him space to move, and your heart began to race.

His lips were waiting on yours as his hands were fisted in the blankets, but he wasn't kissing you as if he were savoring this private time. He remained motionless and patient as you lifted your hips in an attempt to create friction.

He pulled his hips back, and before you could complain, he smacked his clothed hardness between your legs, causing you to gasp and grab onto his back with your fingers, holding onto his t-shirt. He went above you, but he didn't keep kissing you; instead, you were only touching lips and quietly moaning at one another's mouths. 

With a grumble, he pulled back his hips and gave your covered pussy another firm stroke. “Do you like this?” he asked as he repeated the movement.

Rather than responding verbally, you nodded in agreement and waited for him to continue. 

Ben stopped moving, gave you the command, “Tell me,” and waited on top of you.

You elevated your hips to create the same friction once more and muttered, “Yes,” weakly.

Your body needed to relax even though you weren't sure if you were ready for sex. Ben and his supe hearings have recently made your fingers unfamiliar with your pussy.

With one hand slipping under your t-shirt and his eyes fixed intently on you, he repeated, “Do you need me to make you come?”

Ben's hands carefully lifted your t-shirt. When your tits were exposed to his sight, he ran his fingers over one of your nipples, which made you gasp. 

He observed you intently, picking up on every facial emotion you made as he caressed your nipple. 

With a rough voice, he said, “You like it when I play with your tits, don't you?” Taking pleasure in watching you try to get some friction from his hardness by desperately lifting your hips to meet his. He was aware of your precise needs. “If you tell me to suck your nipple, I will.”

You gave him a quiet sigh into his mouth and pleaded with him with your eyes. He was enjoying seeing you like this, at his mercy. He knew exactly what you wanted. Even though Ben didn't do anything at all, you felt so close, even if it was difficult to force yourself to come. Being that near to him and tense while he was merely fiddling with your tits was embarrassingly good. 

“Tell me, baby.” You gasped in delight as he said, “I'll do anything you want,” and put his thumb to your hardened nipple. 

Please,” you eventually pleaded, desperately staring into his eyes. 

Ben sighed, grinned a little, lowered his head to rest on your body, kissed your breast, and started to suck so hard your entire body shook with ecstasy. Your hips lifted in anticipation as your fingers closed on his hair, forcing his head against your tits even more.

The sounds of wetness flooding the room as Ben was moaning around your nipple was filthy. As he played with your nipple with his tongue and licked it, his other hand gave you a hard squeeze, and you felt your walls tighten.

“Oh, Ben,” you let out a loud cry. He groaned loudly in delight as you pulled his messy hair. Your face reddened, and your heart began to rush rapidly.

This time you groaned in protest when he withdrew. You gasped sharply, leaving you on edge with burning cheeks as you glanced at Ben. Your fingers trembled in his hair.

Ben smiled at you because he could see you were desperate for him to continue, and he could also smell your swollen, aroused pussy leaking under your underwear.

With a quick sigh, he exclaimed, “Let me go down on you,” causing your eyes to widen. “I fucking need you to cum in my mouth so bad right now.”

His suggestion made you feel so shy that you released your grip on his hair and put your hands on his chest. 

You said, “But we... didn't do such thing before,” unsure of if he was really willing or not.

As he adjusted your t-shirt as he added, “I know, I know, that's my fault,” and then his fingers stopped on your underwear. “That's something I need to fix immediately.”

He kissed you firmly on the lips after noticing your hesitant and bashful expression and waited for you to answer. “Let me make you come.” 

You nodded briefly to him after a while and anxiously awaited his next move. You were a little anxious since you didn't know if he would really want it or would back out in the middle because he hadn't gone down on you before. 

Between kisses, Ben leaned down on your body and murmured, “Look at me,” causing you to gasp in shock as he planted a wet kiss on your covered pussy. You couldn't decide if his touch was making you too sensitive or too responsive. It felt like there was a lot of leaking beneath your underwear. 

He placed your legs on his shoulder and pulled your panties aside, revealing your wet pussy to his eyes and making you flinch for a moment while you continued to stare at him with flushed cheeks.

Excitedly, you put your hands on the sheets and waited for him to continue.

Before you could react, his warm lips reached your pussy lips. You gasped and tried to move your hips, but he stilled your body as he proceeded to kiss your clit. “Fuck, I missed your beautiful little wet cunt so much,” he muttered.

Ben's balls were hurting and his thick cock was twitching beneath his boxers, but he did his best not to remove it and stroke himself while he used his lips to fuck your swollen pussy. Now, your needs took priority.

Ben began to suck your pussy with a full tongue as you squeezed your lips together and clenched your hands into fists. You tried to shift your legs away from his shoulders, but he stopped you right away and sucked harder.

You let out a loud gasp as your hands found his hair and pulled his head closer, pressing it even closer to your pussy, just as Ben suddenly pressed his tongue into your hole. For an instant, you sensed his lips curled around your pussy, and he proceeded to fuck you with his tongue. Your voice was shaky as you began to murmur his name, your back arched.

Your legs trembled on his shoulders as he waited for your cum to fill his lips, pressing his tongue even farther into your hole. You began to cum into his mouth with a loud moan, unable to hold back yourself any longer. You were under so much pressure in that instant that you were about to cry for two reasons: excitement and embarrassment at not being able to contain yourself for even two minutes. You were unsure of the previous time your climax had struck so strongly.

You tried to push his head away from your body and adjust yourself, but he held you firmly and let you ride your orgasm into his mouth to the very end. “I'm sorry,” you muttered in a panicked and embarrassed manner. 

He planted a hard kiss on your clit, cleaned you off with his mouth, and adjusted your underwear when your orgasm subsided and felt too sensitive. 

“You taste so fucking sweet, I should have done this sooner,” he remarked, kissing your forehead for a long time after licking his lips. Though Ben's cock was hurting under his sweatpants and he was extremely hard, he knew that his desires could wait and that this wasn't the exact moment. 

While Ben's hands waited on the both side of your belly softly, you made a move to get rid of him, but he gently stopped you, saying playfully, “Hey, wait wait, what about a pillow talk?”

“I need to clean myself,” you murmured weakly, still feeling shy for letting yourself go in his mouth without a warning and too soon.

“I've already cleaned you up good, baby. You don't have to be worried about that.” He waited on top of you, with a smile on his face. Both of your hearts were still racing.

“Sorry,” you muttered shyly. “I didn't- couldn't warn you.”

“Come on,” Ben exclaimed, grinning broadly and sincerely. “I already tried to make you cum in my mouth. You did incredibly well. That's something I can do every night.”

He moved both of your bodies in the bed when you stopped moving beneath him. Without a word, you turned your back on him before he could embrace you. 

Ben moved to get close to you and held you in his powerful arms despite the bed's small size. You weren't strong enough to be hurt again, but your heart melted when his hands paused on your stomach and he hissed again behind your head. 

Knowing that his compassion was always accompanied by cruelty, you answered, "That doesn't make a difference, Ben. I still don't want to love you." 

Rather than responding to you straight away, he took a big breath, gripped your body tightly, and said, "I know."

Next Chapter

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A/N: I hope we are good so far.. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. They keep me going. ^.^

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@anna6307 @hey-there0-0 @shadowghoul2525 @darkqueen1995 @multifandomdiva @certifiedhaters @jenn-777q

[saltywinteradult]

What I hate most about the last Rhaenicent scene is how holier than thou Rhaenyra is shown to be, the writers aren't even trying to hide their bias.

In the first season they told us Alicent's evil for putting a child abusing rapist on the throne rather than their Mary Sue who's so perfect she won't even order Vaemond Velaryon's execution.

Then in the second season they have Alicent become a pathetic cockroach who will hand her son over on a silver platter to save her own skin. It doesn't matter if you see it differently, this was their intention: to show how much better a mother/woman/Queen/ruler/politician Rhaenyra is because she would scream bloody murder if anyone even suggested disowning Jace whilst Alicent doesn't even protest when she demands Aegon's head.

This show is not for Alicent Hightower fans, Rhaenicent as a ship is not for Alicent Hightower fans. I think the sooner we accept this the easier it will be to abandon HotD once and for all.

(I'm going to assume you're the same anon​ who sent me this.)

*Sigh* Okay. I've already said that I think Rhaenicent can't be canon without butchering the characters, like they have now done with Alicent, and therefore it shouldn't happen. Alicent has been made into Rhaenyra's bootlicker and I hate it. I have already said, very clearly, that I agree with all of that.

However, I have also said, very clearly, that I still enjoy Rhaenicent in some ways despite this. So why are you sending me this, anon​? Are you trying to convince me to stop liking the things I still like about Rhaenicent? Are you trying to convince me, an Alicent fan and a Rhaenicent enjoyer, that it's not possible to be both? Because I'm not the only person in this fandom who is both. We're in the minority, but we exist. You are entitled to your opinion that Rhaenicent and HotD are not for Alicent fans, but this Alicent fan has to disagree. It's not for you to decide what is or isn't "for" anyone other than yourself.

I agree that the writers' intention with that awful last scene was to show Rhaenyra in a better light - because that seems to be their intention with just about everything. This is an issue with the entire show, not just Rhaenicent. The whole story has been twisted to fit into a cookie-cutter pseudo-feminist narrative with Rhaenyra as the hero she was never meant to be, and every character, not just Alicent, has suffered for it. (I would argue that Rhaenyra's character has been butchered too. Making her a feminist hero is so much less interesting than she was in the book.) So as it happens, I don't see that differently than you.

But so what if I did? I'm sorry, but what the hell are you trying to say with a statement like "it doesn't matter if you see it differently"? I am allowed to see it however I want. People can and do have different opinions on art than its​ creator, or different opinions than you for that matter. That's literally just how art works.

And not to be blunt, but if you hate the show this much, why are you even here, anon? Are you trying to convince me to stop watching? Because if so, that's really not for you to decide. Why not just stop watching the show yourself and let other people do what they want? Personally, I'm still watching the show because while the writing is shit, I still think the cinematography is gorgeous, the special effects are great, the music is beautiful, the acting is amazing, and the schadenfreude of watching the Targaryens self-destruct spectacularly is as satisfying as ever. I enjoy some aspects of HotD and not others, just as I enjoy some aspects of Rhaenicent and not others.

[justjensenanddean]

Jensen Ackles Solo Panel | JIBCon 2023 (June 17, 2023)

(NuttyForAckles)

Jensen was headbanging to Smells Like Teen Spirit with Jason, then mentioned that he has that "writer‘s strike hair flow". (x)

jensen will be at the monday concert (x)

‘Take the guitar away, I’ll just sing on Monday!’ (x)

Monday‘s band will be called "No Rob". (x)

Jensen has always wanted to go to Brazil. But when he finally got there, they had so much work to do that he had to stay in the hotel and he never left. He didn’t get to meet locals or see anything. In his mind he hasn’t been there yet. (x)

His prep for Beau Arlen & Ben? Since he didn’t have the history he had with Dean, he had to dig into personal feelings. (x)

Jensen has a major short term memory to learn lines but his long term memory isn’t as good. He has intense scenes and then purges the feelings. (x)

As Beau, he took what he’d feel if the things were happening to his daughter and then tailored it a bit. A lot of Dean was him. As Soldier Boy, for the scene with Butcher about his dad, he dove into Dean and John, because he has a good relationship with his dad. (x)

And in the end he just pretended. Some people can do it and some can’t. Some can paint, some can write, some can do Math. He can’t draw a stick figure, but he can *play* (x)

Dean and Soldier Boy were both just looking for their father’s approval. Jensen jokes that he wondered if he was being type cast. Ben had an opportunity to make it better with his son & grandson, but in the end he reverted back to his DNA. (x)

jensen said that for emotional scene he filmed for soldier boy (about soldier boy's father) he leaned into dean's relationship with john (because jensen has good rs with his own father) (x) he joked about getting type casted for characters with basically daddy issues (x)

Jensen and Jared have both been invited to Hot Ones and wanted to do it years ago, but they couldn’t work it out. And now they have stars so big, he probably won’t get invited anymore. (x)

someone asked about the rumors about batman and jensen was like “i don’t know” “even i know about it i’m not telling you” and he started laugh. (x)

What about being in a top 3 list to play Batman? He doesn’t know, but even if he would know, he wouldn’t tell us. Could he do it? Sure. Does he want to? Yes. (x)

‘When I’m Batman, does my voice have to be… much different?’ (x)

Musical interruption. Jensen is confused and wants to keep answering questions. (x)

The music indicated that he had to spin the wheel. It lands on “drink” and he hugs the wheel, “it’s like it knows me”. He doesn’t actually pour one though but goes back to answering. (x)

(NuttyForAckles)

There were many scenes surrounding the Impala where Jensen had to become Dean and he’d yell at the team when they were driving it or when Jared banged against the car or fart in it. “Not on the seat, she’s been through enough.” So he knew he had to own the car. (x)

One of his old friends got offered Eric Brady on DooL and he called Jensen before accepting. Jensen said “great, knock it out of the park.” (x)

Apparently Mr Rhodes, his first job, was a multicamera sitcom. It was the best schedule he’s been on so far. Soap Opera is next because they have 40+ actors. They will shoot all 80 pages his character has consecutively, shoot an hour or two. They produce one episode in 1hr (x)

You start by 9 am and get a few short breaks, end of the day, 7:30 pm, 80 pages done and he can go home. Daytime actors don’t get enough credit for having to jam in so much story in a short time. On The Boys they get 15 days for 1 episode. (8 on SPN). (x)

One of the actresses on DooL told him first day „hit your mark, say your lines, stay out of my light“. He said „yes ma’am“, earned her respect and she took care of him big time later. (x)

When he went to lunch with Alison Sweeney, who played his evil twin sister, she got heckled and Jensen defended her immediately. She told him to stop because if people hate her, that means she‘s doing her job. (x)

Rich tells us that Jensen is a sitcom and he has his own catchphrase. He plays Jensen entering the set at morning or any room late. "What are we doing?" He has developed a special greeting with Richard out of it. (x)

(NuttyForAckles)

Jensen spend several birthdays in Brad Creasser‘s house, with his wife cooking him dinner. He‘s a good friend of Richard‘s too. Rich acts out a scene on set one day and Jensen is in tears. (x)

When Jensen walked on set of Big Sky, he also went "What are we doing?" Nobody answered, so he repeated it louder. (x)

(Julie_Fleming)

[queerly-done]

So my opinions on all the Dead Boy Detective/DBDA Characters

All of these are opinions as someone who has watched the show a few times now and also the Doom Patrol episode and I’ll give my opinions on the Doom Patrol versions at the end.

Spoilers for Dead Boy Detectives Show. And Doom Patrol season 3 ep. 3 and that episode alone

Charles Rowland

- Charles is such a sweetheart I love him. He’s always looking out for his friends and literally went to hell for Edwin, and kicked the Night Nurse for him. I just love him so much.

- I felt so bad for him in episode one when he says his dad, “wasn’t the nicest guy,” and in episode three when we see him break being forced to see a father k!ll his family over. I was actually crying with him saying he doesn’t “want to be a bad guy”! It broke me so badly, the abuse he went through and the fear he’ll become like his abusers is a very real thing and to see a character go through that makes the story feel more real, and makes me more sad. He could use some therapy.

- Him being the “brawn” of the team is pretty funny to me but thats most because if you watch the cast interactions you’ll see what I mean.

- All in all, I love him. He is loving, protective, loyal and has golden retriever with attachment issues energy mixed with scary dog privilege but the dog isn’t scary unless provoked.

Edwin Paine/Payne

- Adorable, get him some therapy please! He needs it! Man was so repressed for the first part of this show I thought I’d die before he confessed. But I don’t blame him honestly, his death was traumatic and being called a “Mary Ann” whilst being sacrificed likely would put a bad taste in your mouth about the idea of you being queer in any way shape or form. I am so proud of him good job!

- Honestly he just makes me so happy, and I love how he interacts with everyone and grows!

Crystal Palace

- I love her she is so bad ass and I hope wish the best for her

- She needs better taste in men, my suggestion date women

- I want to see a little more of her Nepo baby side of her past cause clearly that was a thing

Niko Sasaki

- Sweetie! I miss her! She was the only other person other than Charles to get Edwin out of his shell and it hurts me so much to see her be gone. Her death will forever haunt me.

Cat King

- I love him so much, he is my favourite kind of not evil but not good guy the kind that plays a game with people by flirting! Ahhh I love him! I don’t love that he falls for Edwin(I’ll make a separate post on this issue)

- Anywho I still love him he gives off chaotic gender neutral vibes and the song Sex With a Ghost was made for him, I just love him!

Monty the Crow

- Monty I love you but don’t kiss people without consent!

- Honestly he was very important, and sweet he didn’t deserve all the pain he’s been through, may better things come his way.

Jenny the Butcher

- Badass. I love everything about her. Her style, the way she gives advice, yes I just love her so much. I want to see more of her.

- Her episode made me so sad for her ;-;

Esther Finch

- Honestly I love her as a villain she was so evil, and a genuine threat. She is also so hot and scary I just love her.

David the Demon

- A creep I didn’t like him, I don’t know what else you want?

Doom Patrol versions!

Charles Rowland

- He was so funny in this, I loved him. I love how the show conveyed a mutual interest from him to Edwin they are both just too dense to say anything about it. I also love that it seems the only thing he knows about America is that they like baseball.

- They did have to go off and hurt me with the fear of water scene, but he was so sweet protecting Edwin from the Night Nurse(who in this is just 10 times scarier)

Edwin Paine

- Him not getting anything about modern times and brushing off his feelings for Edwin was so well done! I love how he tells Larry he “isn’t like him” saying he isn’t queer and that if he were that would be bad, he says this all in a very rude and brash tone and then proceeds to comfort Charles in the nicest to he is capable of.

- Beautiful 10/10

Crystal Palace

- Boss ass Bitch, girl boss. 8/10 I love her but no real opinions yet that is I may go back one day and edit this for her

I hope you liked this dumb post :3

[captainimfangirling]

The Boys Season 4 Episode 8

I loved this episode! The Homelander I've been waiting for since that bad room episode!

Warning: Major Spoilers

Annie & Hughie

I really wish they had Annie f*cking apologies to Hughie because he was f*cking raped! I don't give a sh*t that she was locked up. Anyway I do get that she's mostly hurt about Hughie realizing it wasn't her and that he might've enjoyed being with the shifter more than her. Hughie omg my poor boy was really about to take a leadership role but Butcher really messed it up. I'm glad Starlight escaped and I have a feeling her, Kimiko, and A-Train are going to work together to save the others. The supes saving the humans they love and care about.

Also I loved Erin's performance was the shifter. I totally saw 2 different characters.

Butcher, Ryan, Victoria

Butcher really did try but he saw the way Ryan didn't react to killing Mallory so he probably lost hope for the kid. I think (like Homelander) Ryan has attachment issues. If he's not careful he will turn into his dad. I never really cared for Victoria to be honest so I didn't care Butcher killed her. I actually thought it was such a cool scene. Lets be honest she did deserve it. She killed many people.

The Deep and Black Noir

I thought I would hate it but I'm actually enjoying their broship. I still think The Deep lied about the original Black Noir having a boner from killing but I do think the new one does only because he thinks the original did. It would be interesting to see him get angry if he finds out about how the real Black Noir was like because his main goal is to become the real Black Noir, not The Deeps version of him. Now that Sage is back I wonder if it's going to ruin their broship.

Sage

I knew it! Many of you wanted her to go against Homelander only because you like her but I knew that wouldn't happen. I think she just wants to see if her ideas would work. That's all she cares about. she reminds me of someone but I can't put my finger on it.

Frenchie & Kimiko

Finally they kissed! I know a lot still don't get it. There is a reason Frenchie and Colin. It was to show the evil things Frenchie has done and how messed up he is. It wasn't about representation, it was about Frenchie's story line. Kimiko has done messed up things too but like Kimiko said Hughie is right about forgiveness and realizes that she and Hughie should forgive themselves. OMG Kimiko finally speaking saying "No" when Cate took control of Frenchie! My heart couldn't take it!

Also why didn't they try to take Kimiko? It looked like Cate was just going to leave her and just take Frenchie.

Mother's Milk

Poor guy can't get away from Love Sausage! LMAO I love how he becomes a good and confident leader. I love how they were finally a team and it broke my heart when they tried to leave each other at the end.

Homelander & Solider Boy

This was the f*cking Homelander I was waiting for since the beginning of season 4! The crazy unhinged that acts more like a god than a celebrity who's desperate for love! I hope they don't f*cking ruin it when they bring in Solider Boy and turn Homelander into a needy human being again (he was in tears when he saw Soldier Boy).

Ashley

Oh Ashley you stupid, stupid girl but I get it. If she tried to run they would be dead anyways. I can't wait to see how she turns out but I am thinking she's going to turn into some sort of swamp thing.

A-Train

I think he's going to come back and help Kimiko and Starlight. He better because he would be a complete hypocrite when he stopped M.M. from going to his family. Yes A-Train has his family to think of but so did M.M.

Firecracker

I have a feeling Firecracker is sick and the milk Homelander is drinking is contaminated. Would be funny if that's what kills him at the end. Like Milk actually being his weakness like Superdud from All That.

[acourtofthought]

"Elain would make a terrible High Lady"

"I've seen Rhysand do such ... horrible things, seen him play the dark prince over and over."

"I am here to help you fight against Hybern." "Bullshit," Cassian muttered.

"You'd be all too happy for war, considering how well you made out in the last one." "No one says war can't be lucrative," Helion countered.

I waited for it - for the blow that would surely doom us. We were thieves who had deceived him, we had come to his house in peace and stolen from him, had ripped into their minds to ensure our success.

One moment, Azriel was seated. The next, he'd blasted through Eris's shield with a flare of blue light and tackled him backward, wood shattering beneath them. / "Call of your overgrown bat," Beron ordered Rhys. Rhys was enjoying it, bargainw ith Eris or no - could have ended it seconds ago.

"You're a coward," I breathed to the High Lord of Autumn. Beron just said, "The same could be claimed of you." My stomach churned. "I don't need to explain myself to you." "No, but perhaps to that girl's family - but they're dead, too, aren't they? Butchered and burned to death in their own beds.

There was still much work to be done, trust to build.

The High Lords quarreled the most about the possibility of a new wall. And with every word of it, just as Helion said, that temporary allegiance frayed and snapped.

"We need the humans in other territories to trust us, if we can ever hope to achieve lasting peace." "Then perhaps Jurian and Vassa should deal with them."

"The Illyrians are pieces of shit," he said too quietly. I opened my mouth and shut it. / "They're hypocrites." "And what would you have me do, then? Disband the largest army in Prythian?" Azriel didn't answer.

"Your mate should have known better than to kick a downed male." "I can't say I'm particularly sorry that he did." "You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled. Tread carefully." I didn't want to think about it, consider it, today. Any day. "My business with him is done." "Yours might be, but Rhys's isn't. And you'd do well to remind your mate of that fact."

And though he roams these lands, he does not see or care for the neglect he passes, the lawlessness, the vulnerability.

I find the "Elain would make a terrible High Lady" arguments odd. The above is just a small list of what the leadership in Prythian looks like and the actions of those that report directly to a High Lord (who should be able to expect certain behaviors from his inner circle in important meetings or in regards to an entire group of their people). I'm not even trying to suggest that anyone is a bad High Lord, clearly Rhys and his ICs actions are meant to read as amusing and entertaining or warranted. And I think in certain situations there's only choosing between the lesser of two evils.

But it's evident that no one is perfect, that even the current High Lords are capable of mistakes and drama. And with so many strong personalities currently in charge, there is space for someone who approaches things in a different manner.

She had come alive here, and her joy was infectious. There wasn’t a servant or gardener who didn’t smile at her, and even the brusque head cook found excuses to bring her plates of cookies and tarts at various points in the day.

She had looked at that cottage with hope. I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger.

She was generous, loving, and kind.

Elain had taken charge of planning

Elain, to my surprise, had a horse, a satchel of food, and supplies ready when I hurried down the stairs.

She put a hand on Nesta's knee. "Feyre gave and gave - for years. Let us now help her. Help ... others."

A lady - that's what Elain would become. What she was risking for this. (Lady?!? As in High Lady?! Possible foreshadowing???)

"I'll do it," Elain said, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. She didn't wait for either of us before she strode out, graceful as a doe.

My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.

Elain sat a little higher as she said to Cassian, "And as for Feyre's hunting during those years, it was not Nesta's neglect alone that is to blame. We were scared, and had received no training, and everything had been taken, and we failed her. Both of us."

Nesta went on, utterly unimpressed by any of us, "I assume you'll want to stay the night." I said, "If it's not too much trouble, then yes. We'll leave after breakfast tomorrow." Nesta didn't smile, but Elain beamed.

But Elain's cry - a warning. A warning to - . To my right, now exposed, Tamlin ran for me. To grab me at last.

Then Elain said quietly, "We could move them to Graysen's estate." "His father has high walls - made of thick stone. With space for plenty of people and supplies." "There are escape tunnels," Elain whispered. "Perhaps it is better than nothing." A glance between the Illyrians. "We can set up a guard - " Cassian began. "No," Elain interrupted, her voice louder than I'd heard it in months. "They...Graysen and his father..." Cassian's jaw tightened. "Then we cloak -" "They have hounds. Bred and trained to hunt you. Detect you." / Elain considered. "I can speak to him." "No," I said - at the same moment Nesta did. But Elain cut us of. "If - if you, and they" - a glance at Rhys, my friends - "come with me, your Fae scents might distract the dogs." "Glamour me," Elain said - to Rhys. "Make me look human. Just long enough to convince him to open his gates to those seeking sanctuary. Perhaps even let you set those wards around the estate." "This could end very badly, Elain." "It's already ended badly. Now it's just a matter of deciding how we meet the consequences." "Wisely said," Mor offered, smiling softly at Elain.

Then she was gone - shoulders a little squarer.

Elain offered a half smile. "I suppose that war makes wanting things like that unimportant."

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king's neck as she snarled in his ear, "Don't you touch my sister."

Elain swept in, apron gone and hair re-braided. "Please don't wait on my account," she said, taking the seat at the head of the table.

"It's their tradition though," Elain countered, her face still flushed with the cold. "One that they fought and died to protect in the war. Perhaps that's the better way to think of it, rather than feeling guilty. To remember that this day means something to them. All of them, regardless of who has more, who has less, and in celebrating the traditions, even through the presents, we honor those who fought for it's very existence, for the peace this city now has." For a moment I just stared at my sister, the wisdom she'd spoken. Not a whisper of those oracular abilities. Just clear eyes and an open expression.

"I asked Nuala to do it in that order," Elain said as the others gathered round. "Because you're the foundation, the one who lifts us. You always have been.

Elain, mourn as she might for the life she would have had with Graysen, had found a place, a role here. Tending to the gardens of Feyre's veritable palace on the river, helping other residents of Velaris restore their own destroyed gardens.

She had purpose, and joy, and friends. But those things had always come easily to her sister. Had always made Elain special.

When Rhys spoke like that, it was more of a command than a question. Elain waved a hand in dismissal.

"Using me."

"Elain showed some teeth."

"Don't forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one's hands dirty along the way".

And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn't hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was part of this court - and would do whatever was needed.

Nesta was wrong, Cassian realized, to think Elain as loyal and loving as a dog. Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why.

Let's recap. Elain owns up to her mistakes, gives credit where credit is due, is wise, observant, easily makes friends, can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles, is willing to help out a people she only just became one of (and grew up fearing), brave when the situation calls for it, takes charge and pushes back on topics she thinks are important and is now offering herself up to dangerous situations. I also think it's important to note her diplomatic nature. Whereas Feyre and Nesta spent their childhood at one another's throats and hating their father, Elain managed a decent relationship to all three. No, she's not in a place to rule an entire court all on her own but neither was Feyre, that's why she had a partner by her side to help her learn (as Elain would too, these are romance books after all).

Prythian doesn't need another ruler who is willing to burn relationships in order to achieve a specific end result. No shade to Rhys, he's extremely self sacrificing and someone needs to fill the role that he does.

But we don't need another Rhys and Feyre, another Beron, another Tamlin, or even Tarquin (who while being a good male, doesn't really seem to go out of his way to interact with other courts). It needs a set of rulers who are better at negotiating peace between not only the courts but the human lands and those on the continent.

We know Lucien is set up to be a High Lord at some point (though something would need to happen to Helion for him to begin ruling in Day) and Elain is his mate. We know Tamlin is not currently any sort of leader to Spring so that means there could be a vacancy there. I doubt SJM told us that Elain's scent was a "promise of Spring" and that "the Spring Court had been made for someone like Elain" for absolutely no reason.

Of the possible future pairings, who would make more sense ruling the Fae in either Spring or Day?

Vassa and Lucien? Vassa who is a human Queen and has shown absolutely no interest in the needs of the fae after the war?

Az and Gwyn? Neither Gwyn or Az have been given hints that they'd be leaders of a court nor do they currently have anything to do with Day Court or Spring. Yes, Gwyn has Spring heritage through her grandmother but she doesn't have a connection to the political system there, nor does Az. Not like Lucien.

I think there is a huge amount of evidence showing why Elain would make an excellent leader and that's not even accounting for the fact that mates are equals. Even if in some weird twist she and Lucien don't end up together, it doesn't change that fact.

Mates are reflections of one another.

Rhys was the most powerful High Lord in Prythian's history, Feyre became his High Lady with the power of all 7 High Lords, both having a darkness to them.

Cassian is one of the strongest Illyrian's and the general of the Illyrians. Nesta had the power of death and is set to be the general of the Valkyries.

Lucien is a High Lords heir, showing the markers of such (knocking Cassian from his rage with a single word) AND has strong fire powers through his mothers line. Through Lucien we learned that High Lords are a different breed and through the Suriel we learned that they are not merely powerful, they are Power.

Elain as his mate would need to be a match to Lucien's power and even if she were not a High Lady chosen by the magic, there is little chance Lucien would not make her his High Lady as Rhys made Feyre his, meaning she would be a ruler by his side.

Diminishing all that we know of Elain and what we know of mates, claiming she'd be a horrible ruler though SJM mated her to a future High Lord, it's fandom pettiness born of hatred for her character.

[the-fiction-witch]

Hopelessly P2

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty Af

Requested:

Could you please do a part 2? I loved this one 😍

Please part 2 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

You have to keep going with hopelessly PlZ

More hopelessly!

I woke slowly with a haze to my vision, for a few moments I couldn't be confident if I was still in the cling of sleep dancing with my dreams or if I had truly spilt back into reality. I had been so hard these last weekdays to try and discern the dreams from reality as my reality had become what I had always dreamt of. 

I laid on my back in the sweet glow of the morning sun, the mattress below me, as I wore only my nightie and even that, had been tugged up to my thighs, the soft cotton of the sheets against me. Below my head the soft warmth of tender skin my arm around his waist, my head on his chest, his own arms around me one on my waist the other on my upper arm, my leg wrapped around his. The only sound was the bird tweeting in the morning sun, the gentle hum of his slow sleepy breaths, and the muffled cluttering downstairs of hospital business only just begining for the day ahead. 

I was unable to prevent my smile as I nuzzled a little closer to him moving my hand to gently stroke across his bare chest, which was enough to cause him to stir. 

"Umm Good Morning," I cooed 

"Humm Good Morning" He smiled taking my hand in his to give my skin a gentle kiss I giggled glancing up at him "Humm hello down there." 

I giggled more "Hello up there," 

"What is a very pretty girl doing here then?" He asked 

"I live here you cheeky boy,"

"Ohh, Do forgive me I for a moment thought I was dreaming, I'd been spending the night in the company of an angel" He smiled "Now I see it's just you y/n"

"Very funny Jack" I smiled moving to give his lips a sweet kiss he happily pulled me closer to him so not an inch of us was a part, as he happily kissed me. Till I pulled back "You have that appointment this morning."

"Do I? Pity. rather hoped we'd get a nice morning" He cooed 

"A nice morning?"

"Humm you know I like when we get to stay in bed an extra few minutes." He smirked giving my lips another sweet kiss "You joining me this morning?" 

"I'm still deciding" I giggled bundling myself up in the covers 

"Evil little Nursey" He smirked kissing my head before he climbed out of bed over me and stretched himself slightly his back cracking as he did "Ow."

"You alright?"

"Ummm. I am not accustomed to staying in one place all night" He said going to the wardrobe to get dressed as he had only slept in his underwear

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't be. I just need to get accustomed to you."

"Why didn't you move if you wanted to?"

"I didn't want to disturb you." He said getting his trousers on and I couldn't help but watch which he spotted and winked at me "You know I don't. I'd never forgive myself if I woke you" He says coming to lean over the bed "You're really going to stay in bed while I go down to work?"

"I don't have to start work till half eleven"

"But you always get up with me."

"I did when I had to make your breakfast and run around after you all day" I giggled nuzzling into the covers and getting as cosy as possible 

"Ohh? So when you were just my nursey, I got breakfast, and work, and sweet words. Now you my lady I get kicked out of bed, no breakfast and an attitude do I?" He chuckled "Doesn't seem fair."

"You're getting kisses in return"

"Well I suppose that does add something" He smirked leaning down to kiss me again clearly meant an innocent peck but our kiss deepened and deepened until he knelt on the mattress crawling on top of me "You're just trying to make me jealous" 

"Maybe I am"

 "Don't make me go y/n" He groans 

"You have to Jack" I giggled petting his hair and stroking his face 

"I want to stay with you" he pouts

"I know, but Sneed will butcher the man if you're not there to do it."

"You're too clever" He smirked "Alright," He sighed before he continued getting dressed "But when I'm done with the rounds on the ward you are to be down to work yourself."

"I promise" I smiled "I wouldn't want to stay in bed too long without my sweet jack to keep me warm." 

"Good girl," he smiled as he finished getting dressed "And how about tonight, you and I finally make this bed squeak a little?" He smirked sitting on the bed with me rubbing his nose on mine 

I blushed hard "Really?"

"Really."

"I think we've waited long enough, but only if it's what you desire."

I giggled but I nodded "Only if it squeaks all night" 

"Hum All night y/n" he smirked kissing me again this time far more intense slightly heard him groan into the kiss his hands slipping up the sheets until he met the top and he tugged them down to better reveal my nightie his hand met my waist and began to stroke the cotton of my nightie "Ummm Y/n!" He groans between kisses his hand moving higher but I grab it before he can touch my breast

"You can wait till tonight Jack."

"You don't know how long I can wait."

"Well, how long?"

"Not that long." 

"You can wait till tonight. Or tomorrow your choice" I warned him 

"Evil little Nursey" He smirked rubbing his nose on mine "Fine. Tonight, but not a second more" He said getting up and going to the door "I'll see you later won't I?"

"Of course."

"Good girl, Love you" He winked blowing me a little kiss 

"Love you too" I giggled blowing him a kiss too before he headed off��

I giggled nuzzling in the covers for a little while more,  I had over the last few days made this place my home as our two rooms had now been combined, my clothes took up half the wardrobe, my books half the shelf, and I now took half the bed. We graciously gave my room to Jack's servant which he was more than happy with. It had been about a week since my drunken confession and it had been the happiest week of my life, I had spent every night in his bed, and every day whenever we saw each other we'd share kisses and sweet words, I was living in a dream, in fact, my dream had not even gotten to a point of jack and I being so intertwined. I did blush at the thought of the bed squeaking for us all night, but I did feel for him. A week our lives had been utterly entwined living almost as husband and wife and yet I had not touched him, He had wanted to of course but wanted to wait until I was ready, Given we had spent years in utter admiration for one another but only a few days truly together he thought It didn't seem right to do so. That and the moment I told him of my innocence he wanted to make sure such a moment was worth all our years of waiting. But It has been a week of sharing a bed, and a room, I can't blame him for getting a little frustrated even if he did want to wait. But tonight... I can't deny I was utterly ecstatic, 

I forced myself up after a little while and got dressed for the day ahead and hurried down to the main part of the hospital and began my work rushing about as usual to do all my laundry work and as usual as if nothing were different a nurse past me as I stripped a newly empty bed.

"Dr Dawkins Needs to see you," She said 

So I quickly took the laundry down to the wash and then headed up to see him, before I'd have dropped everything but I suppose I could keep him waiting a little longer, and I found him in the prep surgery prep room.

"There you are. I was wondering where my nursey got herself off to."

"I've been busy." I giggled going over and standing close to him

"Busy? Too busy for me?" he asked taking my hand 

"Never."

"That's my girl" He smiled kissing my hand "If you please" He smiled glancing to where his apron hung so I happily went over getting it for him and bringing it over helping him into it tightening the back a little more then he usual had "Oi! carefully." He warns playfully as his patient is brought in along with the crowd 

"I suppose I'll see you later then."

"You will, But aren't I missing something my little Nursey?" He smirked 

"Oh?" I asked 

"Where's my lucky kiss?"

"It's only a leg amputation." I giggled 

"Still."

"Alright" I smiled giving him a lucky kiss, a ritual we had begun since my confession whatever surgery he was going to do be it a finger amputation or something more dangerous always he wanted his lucky kiss, 

"Am I interrupting something?" Her voice spoke up I glanced to the door and saw Belle ready to help with today's surgery I froze up given this was the first time we had all seen one another since he uhhh... politely told her to quote 'sod off' I wasn't sure how any of us would react, I get the feeling as she looked at me that she wanted to cut my head off. 

"You are actually Milady, go on I'll be there in a minute," He told her 

She pouted but headed in so I smiled and nuzzled with him 

"Awww, My little nursey happy with me?"

"Very happy" I smiled giving him another kiss "I'll see you later"

"See you later y/n darling" He smiled giving me one more kiss before he headed into surgery so I went back to work but I stopped short as I felt something... a twinge in my stomach, a knotting, twisting, stabbing feeling. 

"Oh shit-" I sighed throwing everything in the laundry and rushing up to our room immediately pulling my dress up seeing blood running down my leg "Fuck-" I sighed opening the wardrobe and quickly searching for my one of my rags 

Luckily I found one and managed to get it where it needed to be before any more blood came tumbling down my legs. I leaned on the bed frame trying to get my head straight given the cramping realising it wasn't sudden this had been happening most of the day I just hadn't paid it any attention as I often don't.

"You just had to show up today didn't you" I complained

Oh no! Tonight!

Oh no Jack will be so disappointed, 

he'll be so angry at me, 

so upset with me.

I feel awful I'd have to tell him, that and I'd of course have to hide it for the next few days now we share a room, that's not going to be fun or easy either.

I felt awful like crying but I went back to work knowing it'll be much harder to get things done now. I purposely didn't go and see him any time today I felt so terrible that he had been waiting so long we finally agree and then my body goes and changes its damn mind! once work was done for the day I made myself a hot tea and climbed into bed trying not to cry from the utter pain, the only words I could say to myself were simply "Sometimes... I hate being a woman" I sighed 

I heard footsteps and immediately I panicked but I knew I had to tell him, the door opened and quickly closed Jack smirked shutting the door and leaning his back on it as he looked at me immediately his smirk grew as he saw me "Ohhh there's my little nursey" He smirked locking the door slipping his jacket off hanging it on the door, undoing his waistcoat and dropping it to the floor as he stepped over "Ummmm now that is a perfect sight, my little y/n in bed waiting for me, you should be like this everyday" He growled, "Umm come here!" He smirked only managing to pull one of his suspenders off before he jumped on the bed, literally! he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me with such aggression and passion you'd think I was all that was keeping him alive, I kissed back a little almost giggling at his excitement "Ummmmm y/n! y/n!" he groans between kisses "Uhh my darling!" he groans ripping the covers off me "Uhhh I can't wait for a second longer y/n!" He groans tugging at my dress but I force him back and stop him

"Jack. Please." I began 

He knew something was wrong immediately he could tell from my face and my voice "Y/n? what's the matter?" He asked taking my hands  "Was I too intense? was it too much? I know it's your first I should be gentle I uhh I couldn't help it" He said adjusting his suspenders "Come on I've wanted this since I got here you can't blame me for getting a little excited" he smiled 

"I know, I know I'm sorry Jack"

"Are you alright? we don't have to do this if you don't want to" He reassured 

"No I want to, I do I really, really do jack -" I began

"Humm let me at my little nursey then" he smirked grabbing my leg to move them apart but the moment he did he saw - "Is that blood?" 

"Yes," I nodded as much as I had used my rags to try and prevent the leaking blood had been seeping through them and onto the white sheets 

"What happened?" He asked panic across his face

"What do you mean?"

"What happened? Did someone hurt you-"

"Jack. It's my period." I said my face turning as red as the sheets at the idea I told him such a thing, the mere idea I had uttered such a word to anyone let alone a man. but my words calmed him 

"Ohh..." He let out a sigh of relief "You. frit. me. to. death." He said tapping my nose with each word 

"I'm so sorry I- I'll go"

"Go? no, come on lay down get comfortable and I'll look after you" He cooed making me lay back down and wrapping the covers around me giving my head a kiss 

"But I should leave-"

"why would you leave?"

"I imagined you wouldn't want to be around me when I'm like this."

for a moment he looked very confused "You're not bloody contagious." He laughed "I hope, I mean if I spent a week with you like this and I start bleeding out my cock I think we have bigger problems," he said and I couldn't help but giggle "Don't you worry about a thing, I'm going to take care of my little nursey" He cooed stroking my hair 

"I'm so sorry-"

"About what? it doesn't bother me" 

"I know, I didn't mean to I am hopelessly at its mercy"

"I know, it's alright I know you can't" He smiled giving me little kisses 

"You really don't mind?"

"Of course not, Y/n I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you I have to get used to these things" He chuckled 

"You do?" I blushed "You- you really want that?"

"Of course I do, why wouldn't I want to marry the woman I love?"

"Y-you've never told me that before" 

"We have only been together a week... haven't really had time to tell you everything" 

"I guess not." I nodded "You'd really want to get married someday?"

"Someday, not too long I hope but someday" He smiled giving my head a kiss "You want anything? some warm tea? A hot bath? a nice massage? a cuddle?"

"I'm alright I don't want to be a bother"

"It's no trouble, I'd rather you be comfortable" 

"A little cuddle?"

"A little cuddle for my y/n" He smiled stripping off and climbing in so he could cuddle me spooning me gently not being careful not to squeeze my stomach or anywhere else that may have hurt "Why would you be so worried? I'm a doctor. I understand how ladies work"

"My father used to lock me in my room, told me I was disgusting like this."

"Well, I promise I am never going to look you away for anything." He smiled giving my cheek a kiss,

for a while we simply lay together he would give me little kisses to make me feel better and if ever the pain grew intense Jack would stroke my stomach until the cramps subsided 

"I'm really sorry about tonight Jack"

"Hey, I told you, you don't need to be sorry-"

"I know but, about tonight. Given our plans and all," I blushed 

"ohhh yeah, about that." He nodded "Well" he sighed "Y/n. I've waited this long for you, I can wait a few more days" 

"I'm sorry, I was so excited about tonight and then I went and messed everything up"

"Aww y/n you didn't mess anything up it's fine really" he cooed moving me gently to lay on my back so he could hover himself over me "I mean... if you really wanted to I'm not opposed" 

I looked at him a little surprised and he just playfully shrugged "Jack I'm bleeding."

"Yeah? Darling, I'm a surgeon. I'm not averse to a little blood" He smirked "and I have heard it can even soothe cramps" 

"Can it now?"

"I have heard so yes. Shall we experiment?" 

[immediatebreakfast]

"you may at the first think that I, Van Helsing, am mad—that the many horrors and the so long strain on nerves has at the last turn my brain."

The first thing that Van Helsing writes after killing the Weird Sisters on their beds. A warning to not call him mad for what he has seen, and done; to not call him mad for showing humanity to ancient ladies who had long abandoned theirs.

It's really something else to see how Van Helsing had to steel himself to kill the Sisters. How there is no rage in him to inflict upon them because they are not Dracula.

"At once I exulted and feared; for now, for good or ill, the end was near."

What does the staking of the vampire symbolizes in gothic stories? The killing of the vampire with a stake through the heart. An important organ that maintains our bodies alive, and blood pumping; so important that even in vampiric undeath it remains all centered, yet not beating.

Whenever a character stakes a vampire, it depends in the motivations for the killing. Either a victorious resolution done with a small stake that only needs a push to become efective, or a tragic task done out of pity for the undead creature still with a single stake, and a push. However, somehow (I don't know why), but somehow the narrative doesn't let these actions feel like murder.

Except for Van Helsing. Cultural default of the vampire hunter feels like a murderer at the steps of the chapel.

"I could not have endured the horrid screeching as the stake drove home; the plunging of writhing form, and lips of bloody foam."

The old professor breathes to calm himself down before starting an all bloody mission. Alone in an old chapel inside the cursed castle while Mina waits for him on the puré clean snow. There is no Jack to pray with him, nor Quincey nor Arthur to hold nor stake. Just lonesome Van Helsing with a knife, a hammer, and the same long stakes that killed Lucy.

All of this to murder the Weird Sisters, ancient ladies who were once victims of Dracula, and had now seen humanity change and change for centuries. Van Helsing holds no I'll intent for them, nor insults or curses. He tells how they can gain the upper hand on him with their powers, but still continues with his task.

Butcher's work Van Helsing called it. A horrible bloodbath done with his steady hand, and the sound of the stake and hammer piercing the tender flesh. Blood foaming down the lips, and choking the Sisters until their screams became whimpers, then silence.

Dear Lucy in heaven, are you watching this? Do you feel horrified or calm? Van Helsing couldn't stake you, he needed the help of all of your suitors to do it. He arranged everything to happen, and have Arthur the stake, and the hammer. Now Van Helsing is all alone in a cold chapel, alone with three stakes and three unbeating hearts. Alone as he walks disturbed with his mind weeping, and his hands covered in blood three times.

The act of murdering the Weird Sisters was not declared as a Holy act of retribution, nor a deserved victory against evil, it was butcher's work. The butcher doesn't listen to the cries of the cow, the pig, the chicken; the butcher just raises the knife, and closes their eyes before steeling the arm that lets the knife fall down.

Van Helsing is grateful for his nerves, for not running away from something that had to be done less Dracula had more allies at his side. Time will pass after this, yet maybe Van Helsing will never forget how his hands only trembled before, and after finishing such horrible act.

"I am at least sane. Thank God for that mercy at all events, though the proving it has been dreadful."

[ashflamethewaffleangel]

I've been browsing the WoJ website, as one does, and realized just how excited Mr. Author seems to write Mirror Mirror Marcone, and now I'm very excited for that book too.

Do you have any theories about how that will go? Will Marcone be a good guy? 👀 Omg what if he went from the army to law enforcement. Imagine what that man could do in SI. ⚰️

YOU HONOR ME WITH THIS QUESTION HOLY SHIT (so very genuine; you are my beloved Dresden Files mutual) but bear with me because this is gonna be a long post. I have toooo many thoughts. God I'm sorry. /jov

BUT GOD. YOU HAVE HIT THE QUESTION I REPEATEDLY THEORIZE WITH MY PARTNERS. OUUUGH. There are SO many ways this could go I am gonna be SO very real and I love every single one of them bc it keeps my brain shoomvin'!

But considering WOJ has mentioned that this particular universe is ours but gone to shit MUCH quicker due to one of Harry's earlier decisions "Mirror universe Harry is different by one choice. One. And everything else just follows after that." WHICH MEANS. WHICH MEANS EVERYTHING STAYS THE SAME. UP TO THAT CHOICE. (I can't remember how early, so it could be a pre-books decision, or it could be a in-canon alternate decision) so Marcone depending on how early in the canon it is, I see a couple different options!!

NOW OBVIOUUUSLY. There are an ABSURDDDD Number of choices Harry coulda done EXTREEEEMELY DIFFERENT!!!! However. one that comes to mind-- at least if he's talking early series!! and from the sounds of it, he is, because he says everything goes to shit a lot fucking faster than our timeline-- is in Fool Moon.

Marcone gives Harry a choice in the Fool Moon garage; sign on and become an employee of his, or die by the people he's trying to protect Harry from. Marcone ALSO gives Harry the choice to stay off the case in Book 1.

What if Harry chose EITHER of these options? What if he stayed off the Victor Sells case? The entire series spiraled from there--- THAT'S THE REASON MARCONE CAME TO HIM FOR HELP IN BOOK 2!!! MARCONE, UPON NOT BEING ABLE TO GET HARRY'S HELP, RESORTED TO FBI AGENTS WHO BETRAY HIM AND TRIED TO FEED HIM TO A LOUP-GAROU. AND THEY WOULD'VE GOTTEN AWAY WITH IT IF IT WEREN'T FOR EVERYONE ELSE (including Harry) STUCK IN THE PIT BELOW WITH HIM.

Now Jim has said he's very excited to write Marcone; so I imagine he's not fucking dead but. What if this series of events leads him to Nicodemus instead of Monoc? What if he becomes a knight of the Denarius THAT FUCKIN EARLY so he could better protect Chicago?; ESPCIALLY SINCE HARRY HASN'T KINDA LED HIM THROUGH TRIAL BY FIRE AND SAVED HIS ASS ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS (as does Marcone vice versa).

But if Fool Moon has the changing point, then we've got a different route; Harry working for Marcone. That now begs the question of-- Would that have made everything gone to shit that much faster??????? Maybe !! As a consultant for Marcone? And telling him all the BULLSHIT that the White Council does? That the Red Court is doing? In his city?? Our evil Harry might be Marcone's enforcer-- as Mister Jimothy mentions, "If [Harry] was Lawful Evil I’m pretty sure he’d be Marcone’s enforcer."

Or might have been, at one point, in this particular universe. Either way, a very DELIGHTFUL choice of thought, but probably not where Mister Butcher is gonna take it.

Option 2; Marcone is FBI/Special Investigations -- LAW ENFORCEMENT TIME BABYYYYY!!! LAWFUL EVIL MAN STILL ON HIS LAWFUL ACT BUT THIS TIME IN THE MORE LITERAL SENSE! (/very jovial) I see this one happening if it's a complete Star Trek Mirror Mirror moment; he's still a powerhouse, he's still an ice-cold mf, but he's more of a deadly serious Fox Mulder, especially if the same event took place that made Marcone-- well-- Marcone! I'd see him being the same type of character, but more on the ground this time around; like he was in White Knight type beat; manpower and in-the-know folks taking down monsters to protect the citizens. Maybe he'll be giving our Harry a helping hand!! Especially if Harry is being framed for, you know, MURDER, as it's being told to us. Maybe we'll be having a soul-gaze, and because (I PRESUME) this universe's duo has already shared a soul-gaze it's a "Oh. Yeah no you're not lying. What. The fuck. Okay." OR, he's one of our main obstacles! BOTH ! AND!!!! Considering that Mister Butcher mentioned that we'll maybe be seeing something related to Marcone's capital n Name in this book... Definitely a possibility.

Option 3; He's literally just a guy! -- Less likely of the options? Yes. Still an interesting thought experiment? Also yes! This is ALSO based on this specific WOJ;

Q: I read the short story from Marcone’s point of view, “Even Hand,” and I noticed that John Marcone is not his real name. Is that going to be significant? Sure is if somebody tries to cast a spell at him using the name “John Marcone”! That’ll be a big deal. But we’ll have to see how that works out. Actually, the character that’s really interesting is the Mirror Mirror universe Marcone, and we’ll get to him in a few books.

Maybe! He's not John Marcone! Or, more accurately, he's the Marcone we see in Helen Beckitt's vision! Maybe he's still that charming motorcyclist who works for the mob! Probably VERY aware of word on the streets about Harry, and in Mirror Mirror, we'll see him go "huh. what the fuck." about our Harry! because THAT'S not the guy everyone dreads! This is a fucking goober! Powerful goober-- but tall, lanky ass, goober! Built his own paranet perhaps, due to the fact that Harry is not a "good" man in this universe.

I very honestly don't know, there's so many variations of these, ever so slight changes, and I am CHOMPING on my theorizing bit.

[daenerystemper]

I remembered something. It’s from the wretched season. The two hacks had Dany say “I’ve never begged for anything” which contradicted how she said in S2 “I’m begging you”. Those two really were inconsistent with their own story weren’t they? But I also don’t like the implications. I think they were trying to portray Dany as this arrogant and prideful woman who was so proud that she wouldn’t beg for anything or be humble. And they clearly wanted to portray her “begging for the first time” as her being selfish. Those two hacks never understood her character. They didn’t understand any of the characters. I take satisfaction knowing their wretch awful season burned their show and their careers to the ground. I just hope GRRM will finish the books and give the story and characters the writing and hopefully ending they deserve. I have a lot of hope that Dany will get a good ending in the books

it’s surprising that they forgot they had daenerys begging for things as well considering how badly they intentionally butchered her season two arc.  rather than showcasing her as a queen who is learning how to navigate court,  they have daenerys demanding to be let in & given things because she has dragons which is not something that happens in the books since the qartheen come looking for her instead.  the thing is,  there’s nothing “wrong” with begging for help.  for example,  daenerys’s major goal starting from a clash of kings where she begins learning how to maneuver politically is to find ships. she doesn't like to beg, but she isn't above it.

“Xaro Xhoan Daxos would be no help to her, she knew that now. For all his professions of devotion, he was playing his own game, not unlike Pyat Pree. The night he asked her to leave, Dany had begged one last favor of him. “An army, is it?” Xaro asked. “A kettle of gold? A galley, perhaps?” Dany blushed. She hated begging. “A ship, yes.” Xaro’s eyes had glittered as brightly as the jewels in his nose. “I am a trader, Khaleesi. So perhaps we should speak no more of giving, but rather of trade. For one of your dragons, you shall have ten of the finest ships in my fleet. You need only say that one sweet word.” “No,” she said.” DAENERYS V,  A CLASH OF KINGS

i think it’s important to note that only daenerys’s begging in seen as humiliating because it comes across as petulant.  she doesn’t want to “share” the throne.  she is so manipulative & convincing that she would “overpower jon” should he give into her,  despite tyrion successfully talking jon into murdering daenerys because she kills “evil men”.  in comparison,  jon spends several seasons begging for more soldiers at the wall.  he & sansa both partake in begging northern houses to help them in their cause to retake winterfell.  daenerys parallels mostly with gendry begging arya to love him rather than being a fully-fleshed out character within season eight.  his only purpose is to love arya,  be made the trueborn son of robert & do little else.

what d&d forgot repeatedly is that dany is a negotiator before she is a beggar.  her worth is in her many titles:  the mother of dragons,  the bride of dragons,  the rightful heir to the iron throne.  she negotiates one dragon for an army of unsullied.  she negotiates her own marriage for peace in meereen.  for all the repeated foreshadowing within season seven & eight,  daenerys should have successfully negotiated a marriage pact with the king in the north, especially once learning about his true birth so that claims of him being the true inheritor of the throne could be avoided. but d&d would rather humiliate her character.

it’s misogyny that they have daenerys begging jon repeatedly throughout season eight to not tell anyone,  to love her,  to be with her even in the moments leading up to her death.  she’s presented as a dreamy fool stuck between tyrion’s all-knowing genius & jon’s impeccable honor.  even though they’re all painfully watered down,  daenerys suffers the most & becomes a fridged woman so that jon can mourn her painstakingly over the last twenty minutes of the final episode to show just how torn he is about doing “the right thing.”

[cyranonic]

I've had this massive Tellius IkeSoren longfic idea in my brain for years, but I will never have time in my life to write it, so instead I'm just gonna publicly process the idea here.

Imagine that I actually wrote this if you want (please imagine that I am a very good writer and so special and talented :D)

So the premise is an AU where Ashnard decided to raise Soren, rather than discarding him as a failed experiment. Soren isn't his official heir, but most people in the court know he is a bastard son of Ashnard. Because Daein is kind of a weird meritocracy based on combat strength, Soren basically gets trained to be a general for his father after he displays aptitude for tactics. Let's go out on a limb here and assume that much of this training is an unpleasant experience.

At some point, Almedha shows up and tries to escape with Soren back to her people. Soren doesn't realize that she is a laguz. They hide out in Gallia for a short time. Soren is kind of a shitty, emotionally-closed off kid, but he still has a Meaningful and Significant encounter with another boy who treats him as a friend rather than as a potential rival to sabotage. Eventually, the boy vanishes, and Soren is taken back to Daein when Ashnad's Four Riders find Almedha. Ashnard tells his son that he is a Branded and basically uses that to emotionally manipulate him away from Almedha.

Jump to the invasion of Crimea and the beginning of the war: Ike still ends up escorting Elincia. Soren has become a pretty scary and well-respected general in his father's army by this point. He is ordered to eliminate the mercenaries causing trouble. Cue him repeatedly showing up as an early game boss, but right when he is about to destroy them, he recognizes Ike and kind of chokes. For the rest of the war, he continues his pursuit, furiously trying to prove to his father that he isn't going soft, but also deeply conflicted about Ike.

They bond. They probably fight a few times and pin each other to the ground and stuff (insert Mononoke screenshot here idk). Ike slowly erodes Soren's determination to murder them through being an empathetic and reasonable person. By the time that Ike is marching on Daein with aid from Begnion, Soren is faced with a crucial choice--abandon everything he has known growing up (which was shitty, but still, it's his whole life) or turn traitor and side with Ike.

Soren decides to side with Ike, giving his people cause to lay down arms and not get totally butchered by Begnion (because he is Soren, he must obviously frame this choice as a logical strategic maneuver). They all head to Crimea together and kill Ashnard (emotionally distressing for Soren, but also weirdly cathartic).

By the start of Radiant Dawn, Soren is now in the difficult position of being the Begnion-preferred ruler for Daein, but the Senate wants him to essentially be a puppet who will pacify the locals with his semi-legitimate claim to power. As part of the treaty with Crimea, Ike is regularly checking in on him to make sure he isn't getting too murdery. Soren gets to use his tactical expertise to try to play the Senate into thinking he is compliant, while also quietly seeking to better his home country. Unfortunately, Micaiah and the Dawn Brigade are making that difficult for him (eventually they will work together, but they gotta start out as opposed).

Basically, the rest of the plot is just Soren simultaneously grieving his dead evil dad, going through the most high-stakes political intrigue of his life, failing to repress his messy and inadvisable attraction to Ike, and eventually having a deeply traumatizing reunion with his mom (who he has been gaslit into hating, and also she seems to be working with the rebels who are actively making his life hell???)

Anyways, that's my idea that I will never write. I hope you enjoyed going on this hypothetical journey with me.

[emilykaldwen]

Hi, I’m disgusted with how the show has demonised TG and feel sorry for Aegon, Aemond, Helaena and Daeron. Book Alicent would never do that to her children.

Hey you!

I think for me, I am definitely frustrated though with the route the show took and then weirdly doubled down on even though Condal had been saying how the GA would have sympathy for TG.

Are they demonized? That feels like a strong word but I see where you're coming from. They have definitely been punished in the weirdest of ways. What TG had going for them was their loyalty to one another, their ride or die. But now they're a house further divided and it's just weird to me.

When you look at S1 and S2 as a whole, you can see the throughline: Rhaenyra believes she's ordained by the gods, and combined with the prophecy shared with her by Viserys, she's shifted from the 'The throne is mine because my father named me his heir' to 'The Gods have decreed I must sit the throne and unite the realm and here are the symbols of that'. Is it fascinating? Yes.

It would be more intriguing to pit Rhaenyra's descent into prophecy (shades of Rhaegar plunging the realm into civil war anyone?) with the counter of the TG side coming at it from 'We live in a feudal society, the throne is Aegon's as his right as first born son' and not... what are they doing with TG anyway? The point of the stories GRRM is writing is that gunning for the Iron Throne is bad. Subjugation and Feudalism and using the people of the realm as canon fodder for war is BAD. That is the tragedy of it. Instead, the narrative has set up that Oh My Gods it's So Insane and Unheard Of! That in a feudal society, it's.... silly? Evil? Ridiculous? For one to assume that the first born son would not become the heir and How Dare You Support That.

And so by giving Rhaenyra these symbols of Divine Right of Prophecy vs Aegon having his symbols of legitimacy that are recognized by the realm at large, you're in this weird place where TG is having to kowtow and get punished for getting in the way of Prophecy.

Here's the Thing:

I'm so okay with Rhaenicent. I loved the change the show did to make them friends and throw this wrench into that relationship and shows how vying for the throne will tear friends and families apart, right? The Alicent of episodes 1x06/1x07 would fucking never. Where is that woman? Yes, she is horrified by how she acted, but oh no, she cut Rhaenyra's arm after Aemond's maiming and the public disavowment of Alicent and her children by their father, the king and... now she's sitting on her hands not plotting payback?

Rhaenyra and Alicent have been enemies far long than they were friends, and it's okay for that to all be really complicated because of the closeness of formative years and Situationship but Alicent choosing to give up her son like that?

She would never. I get that she's scared, I get that she sees what Aemond sees: Rhaenyra with three more dragons ready to clearly burn them all alive (since they came and butchered her grandson) But when Olivia Cooke is saying she's having to work backwards from the decision to see how Alicent gets there it's like... no. You're sacrificing all three of your sons, the three sons you have spent your entire life protecting, to get your daughter and granddaughter out.

And it's some of those things where it's like 'what else is she supposed to do? Condemn them all to death??' which no, she shouldn't. But she's like 'I'm throwing the gates open for you and you can let us leave but you know, you can totally kill Aemond while you're at it, he's become something else' and Rhaenyra was totally right to call out that fantasy! Because Alicent Hightower Would Never.

It's this weird hopeful naivete Alicent Hightower shouldn't have. Like, Alicent has known for twenty years her sons' lives have been hanging in the balance. Because that's how contested succession works: The boys would always be used against Rhaenyra the moment someone with enough clout gets pissed at her. The idea that this wasn't ever going to happen underscores how bad of a ruler Viserys was (please don't get me started on this season deifying him in the weirdest way).

I dunno. The point is, if this was the route they wanted to go, you're expecting us to believe that Alicent Hightower is just as mid-milquetoast as her late husband and she just isn't. This is a mama bear fighting for her children and spitting on the trappings of the Targaryen dynasty (which Jaehaerys weakened by inviting the realm to have a say in the succession in the first place) and Rhaenyra fighting (rightfully) for her stolen throne.

Because BOTH Rhaenyra and Aegon got screwed over. BOTH Rhaenyra and Aegon were let down by their conflict-averse father. Both of them were left unprotected by the king, but while Rhaenyra made her own protections (such as marrying Daemon), Aegon had his mother.

I don't even know if any of this makes sense. I'm annoyed. I'm not disgusted, I'm just frustrated. But it is what it is. There's a lot of things that have gone in there. Where this season shone bright, it shone bright, and where it failed, it failed hard. But it was already built on a rocky foundation to begin with.

Remember to support your fic writers!

[lingeringscars]

top 5 yj pairings or top 5 canon characters 👀

top 5 yj pairings is becoming ships because @itchose is evil and made me choose dynamics so see here for that.

shauna/tai. they have an intimacy that will never be recreated by anyone ever. they understand each other better than anyone. betrayals by the other feel personal even if they aren't totally. they love each other, they hate each other, they can't live without each other. they're in love and they are not. they're everything.

mari/akilah. they've been gfs from the start. they went from not really knowing each other to clinging to each other. akilah becoming the most important person to mari, the one she can be the most vulnerable around, the one that she trusts the most. mari letting akilah cheat at choosing cards (and akilah deciding against it) because she's her person.

tai/van. they fascinate me sooo much. a casual hookup turned serious that could never be maintained once they leave the wilderness. the conflict in their views and the way tai shoots her down and van learns to speak up. the love that is this common thread between them even when that happens.

lottie/laura lee. laura lee as the only person to actually talk to lottie and make her feel heard and validated. no one in her life has ever done that, and in the wilderness she's probably overheard people talking about how weird she is acting and how she lost it and she's gone crazy, which isn't great when looking at her dad! but laura lee supported her and trusted her and had this long-lasting forever kind of impact on her.

shauna/nat. who am i if i don't force them to be included. they are real to me. they meet in person for the first time and it reeks of jealousy and love gone bad. i am entirely convinced they had an affair idc. they talk shit about each other. they love each other. shauna is jealous of nat, shauna loves nat, nat loves shauna. they cry over each other. shauna nurses nat back to warmth. nat begs and begs for people to help shauna. the hunter & the butcher. they are everything. i love reminding people that when nat picked the queen card we see shauna's reaction <3 it's not just because of what comes next <3 she's second because she's second to travis in this essay i---- they are real to me <3

bonus: shaunajackie. they compel me. they live in my mind. they're in love with each other. they're part of each other. the only reason they were bumped from this list is because they would never act on any of it. also honorable mentions go to: gen/melissa, jackie/nat, & lottie/nat. i also feel like i need to put travis/nat here because they are so deeply connected and influence each other in everything.

i immediately thought this was top 5 yj canon chars and then realized it could be 5 canon in general so you're getting both dohgs

yj:

mari

nat

tai

van

shauna

bonus: akilah, travis

canon in general:

christian ozera (vampire academy). tiffany told me to read this series and thought i'd attach to other people and then i came away with him and have been with him for 9 years now. he's my number 1 forever, really. snarky, lonely, caring, pushy, loyal love of mine.

bellamy blake (the 100). another long timer. been writing him since the season 2 finale in 2015. i've been with him through the trenches. he is a part of me at this point

layla keating (all american). i added her during or at the end of season 2 or maybe at the end of s1 it's hard to remember now and it was mostly for olivia/layla w/ cj reasons but the more we got of her, the quicker she became an actual and instant fave. her depression arc(s) is one of my favorites of all time, and it's handled really well imo. she's so complex and layered and fascinating, and i will defend and love her forever

spencer hastings (pretty little liars). at this point she is also a part of me. i don't even know if i can list the reasons why she's in my top 5, especially when all the pll girls are so important to me, but this show and char are a piece of me.

daisy johnson (agents of shield). while i think mari is making her way into All Time Favorite Chars territory, i need to go with another that I always come back to (and the one on this list that I Do Not Write). daisy's story is just so important to me. she finds a home, a place, a family, and a people. she finds a purpose. she finds love. despite everything she goes through and went through, she has so much heart. she fights for what she believes in, she hates herself despite being the best person ever, she shines like the sun and kicks ass like no other. she's a hacker with a heart of gold. she's everything to me.

ask me my top 5 anything // always accepting

[destinygoldenstar]

TEN. THOUSAND. VIEWS.

On TDDRI. Ten thousand. And Chapter 5 isn’t even out yet.

Guys… I…

I’m speechless. Idk what to say.

Something I wrote is now in the realm of being popular?!

I…

I can’t even type. Wow. You guys have butchered my ability to write and now I am unable to continue TDDRI.

(That was a joke)

This is a HUGE New Years Present for me.

I’ve been writing since I was six. My work was shit. As you’d imagine for a six year old.

But I loved doing it so I kept doing it. It was where my child imagination lied. I wrote a ton of knock offs. I would have journals and write fictional characters instead of diaries of myself. I would draw characters of a narrative.

Now I study creative writing. For a hobby. I was an A+ student in my class. I had a book released when I was 11. I was a runner up in a city contest and was interviewed by the mayor of where I lived. At 13. I’m writing whenever I have free time. I’m writing analytics on social media. I didn’t even have an account in high school. I’m giving writing advice to people on the internet. Writing is basically my life at this point.

So you’d think that I would be someone well known for writing, right?

No.

There’s a lot that don’t know or care that I exist.

Because, I have a fear of what people think of me.

I’m constantly worrying that I say the slightest things wrong, and then I become a cancelled figure. Loathed for a mistake. For the rest of my life. Where everyone constantly harasses you that you’re some evil person and the world is better without you.

Because of that I’ve been incredibly phobic with showing people my writing. I would write, but I would never show it to anyone unless I was forced to. Even after getting praised like the examples I gave of ‘achievements’. I felt like shit for even getting them in the first place. Like deep down, I was some hack who didn’t deserve it.

And it goes FAR beyond a basic phobia.

I do feel comfortable to at least share it now. Cause I would never three years ago. Believe me, don’t, it’s fine by me. You don’t have to believe anyone online.

I was in the fifth grade. I was freshly moved out of my state that I grew up in before that, the world I loved to live in so much. Gone. And I was forced and expected by my peers to accept the changes and ‘get used to it’. So I lied. When I didn’t lie, people got upset. They would try to hide how I felt.

I didn’t learn I had Asperger’s syndrome until I was 13, so this was before that. But my parents knew. Didn’t tell me till I was a teen. I was definitely ‘the weird kid’ for it. They played rough and ran with soccer balls. I played in the fields running around imaging I was a bunny. Kids my age told me to stop it.

Sure, I was at least known, as that same year I was elected out of the entire school to be the soloist of the end of the year concert. But everyone told me I didnt deserve it. Shy, timid, anxious me who jumped at anything.

I only ever became confident whenever I was in my little writing corner. Which, at first, was just another ‘weird’ thing.

Hell, my blog username, ‘GoldenStar’ is literally the name of my self insert character. Fun fact.

But I had a friend group.

And that friend group was the main culprit of bullying.

It was two girls. One of them was really sarcastic and hard to read, and a compulsive liar. The other was the one who invited me to be a friend, and a focus on this story.

She took advantage of me since the beginning. Both of them did cause they both stole my stuff and passed it off as ‘friend lending a friend’. She saw a naive innocent overly sweet and kind girl who would freak out and believe and scream at anything.

Because I am exactly that. I am EXACTLY that.

Constantly lied to me to see my overly dramatic reactions and laugh at them. Guilt tripped me whenever I hanged out with anyone else. Stole from me. Whenever I achieved something, she would say “Don’t worry. I know you don’t deserve it. Your secret is safe with me.”

It was mental abuse. And considering how horribly wrong bullies are portrayed in guidance class videos (and Dhar Mann), I never picked up on it until three years later. I never had a clue that this friend was actually a bully. Because she didn’t show any of the signs of a fictional one. The kind that manipulated you into thinking they were on your side.

And then the THING happened.

The reason why I cut off my writing from the world for so long.

There was a writing project. We all had to write a fictional book.

This was my time to shine and I went full force l on this project. In my element. In the moment every single step of the way.

The other kids wrote a Minecraft story. I wrote a solely original fantasy about fairies and colonialism that dealt with equality issues through magic.

I distinctly remember being the last one to present to the class. I put up this dramatic narration while doing it. Be being wholeheartedly confident for the first time in front of my classmates. And everyone seemed to love it to pieces.

It was so loved that my teacher elected me as a representative in the school to have the story presented in a citywide fair.

Next to no one got something like that from what I heard.

I was even elected ‘best writer’ at the end of the year. When we were giving out rewards on who was the most of what.

It would’ve been great. I had never been that popular before. I was getting rewarded for something I loved and was proud of. My parents thought I was going to become successful with my writing.

And then my ‘friend’ had something to say about it.

Recess. Right after I got the reward news.

What did she do? Did she say what she always said? “I know you don’t deserve it” Some quiet gaslight like that?

No.

She strangled me.

Grabbed me by the neck and shoved me into a tree, screaming in my face “WHY ARE YOU SUCH A HACK?!?” “YOU DONT DESERVE THIS AT ALL!!” “EVERYONES A MORON FOR NOT SEEING THROUGH YOUR EVIL TRICKS! I DO THOUGH!!” “YOURE A HORRIBLE PERSON FOR WRITING THAT!” “YOU WILL BE HATED BY EVERYONE IF YOU KEEP WRITING SO STOP WRITING!!”

Having it hard to breathe was one thing. My mental state was the real thing that got strangled out. So yeah, I got beaten up.

NOBODY did anything about it btw. They all ignored us. No one said anything to the teachers. They did nothing. She completely got away with it.

She drilled it into my head, by force, that I was a hack of a writer who would never have an original idea in her life, and everyone would despise me if I became a writer.

I believed it.

I still don’t know why I put up with her after that. I didn’t catch on till three years later that she was the one in the wrong. Gosh I’m stupid.

I shut down after that. I stopped showing anyone my writing. I avoided writing in public at all costs. I tried avoiding showing anyone my writing ever again. Even if it meant I got a failing grade. I would fail writing classes on purpose just to avoid the humiliation she lied about.

As for the reward? I don’t have the medal anymore. Or the book. That’s why it’s not published in stores from my knowledge. I threw both of them away after the ceremony. Ashamed. Disgusted by myself.

Not kidding, I spent that whole Christmas Break rewriting the entire story from shame alone.

My parents were so confused because I never told them what happened. I mean, I could’ve been successful at something I was proud of, go on to bigger things and achievements. But instead I threw it all away.

And my classmates too turned on me when I decided not to write anymore. Bully target.

From then on I stayed with the ‘friend’. I stayed her right hand. I would constantly tell everyone,

“I can’t write” “I can’t write”

Over and over again.

I still wrote. But it was a secret.

It got to the point where I just decided ‘I’d rather embrace the anxious shy weird girl than be confident’, and just embraced the full stereotype. Someone who would react to anything and scream at anything. Then when I got sick of that around my adolescence I decided I couldn’t cry anymore, those screams were anxiety AND anger towards anyone who pushed my buttons. I was the bully target till Covid. And few helped me because they all hated me. I was a very hot tempered hypocritical person who never shut up or stopped and only could when attacked by panic. On the last day before quarantine, everyone was joking about Covid and saying it was the best thing to ever happen, even the teacher, and I got mad, and everyone else kicked me out of class early. “Good riddance. No one will miss you.”

I was the nasty person. I was someone who couldn’t be sympathized. I was the bully. Not her.

And no one there does. Because I ended up moving again and never seeing them again.

As for what happened to that ‘friend’? It was kind of a distance thing that broke us apart rather than me ever standing up for myself in any way. So technically, she won.

From what I heard now she’s hooked on drugs. And my only reaction when I heard it was ‘Sad. Not my problem though.’

I don’t know if that’s heartless to not bring myself to care or not.

I can’t tell you if any of this classifies as PTSD or just classic trauma. Im not a therapist.

Then in my sophomore year of high school, I accidentally got one of my books leaked to my English teacher. Technology.

It was a book I wrote during quarantine, where I could just be myself and no one to harass me. (It’s also rewritten on Ao3 on my account if you’re curious)

I was ready to apologize for the error, but instead my teacher said that she loved it. And she questioned why I never mentioned I was ‘quite the talented writer’. We had a meeting and I told her the truth and why I kept it a secret. I even went on and on about how I believed I was a hack. Then she opened my eyes that I was not the one in the wrong in that situation. That I was not a hack and there was definition proof that I wasn’t. So I got booked to creative writing class when I went back to school, which I hesitantly accepted.

A few years later I would start my social media presence to try and get my writing off the ground. As I was trying hard to overcome my trauma and get my confidence back.

It didn’t work out. Cause no one reads original stuff anymore. And no one knew me. So yeah, I got nothing. So I tried joining fandoms instead, of shows I watched during quarantine, one of them being Total Drama. I tried making essays about my thoughts on stuff and slowly I got around to a hundred followers. Over that at the time of this post.

Then I got the crazy idea to try fanfiction for the first time. (Yes. Straight up. I never wrote fanfiction before that.) So I took a popular fanfic premise from the Total Drama community and decided ‘I’m going to try that. No one will read it though, so it’s fine if it’s bad.’

And well, look at where the fic is now. I was wrong. SO WRONG.

This is my most popular work ever. It’s very rare that I see any fanfic get over ten thousand views, let alone before it’s finished. Not only that, but I see many people online sharing their thoughts on the story and saying ‘this is no contest the best version of this fanfic premise and people need to see it’ ‘please see this it’s so good’ ‘when is it going to get updated’?!

And just… I NEVER imagined. I never imagined anyone would even CARE. Let alone to THIS height. I just… I can’t…

My parents still think I threw my writing passions away. They don’t support it anymore unless it’s a ‘positive happy go lucky story’. “You can’t be a writer. You can’t make a career out of fine arts. Or theater arts. Be a scientist. Be a meteorologist. Write facts for news.”

I can’t express enough how much this milestone truly means to me. Like, I actually did it. I can write something and have it get peoples attention, and people CARE. They actually CARE. And I’m so sorry I can’t live up to your standards and finish it faster and you have to wait another year for it to be completed-

I’m not editing this. I’m just rambling with text. It’s what I do. Those who follow me know this is who I am.

So just…

This has been a huge year for me. I graduated this year. I got a job. I’m working now. And I got this as icing on the cake for this year.

Seriously. Thank you for 10,000 views on Total Drama Danganronpa Island

[caputvulpinum]

After The Revolution Will Never Come

An examination on the realpolitik of revolutionary movements and the perpetuation of the iconography of violence. Originally written for my university final paper. 2,500 words.

-

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

Robins will wear their feathery fire Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone.

-Sara Teasdale, “There Will Come Soft Rains”.

There is an inherent seductiveness to being justified in your actions. To know without any doubt that you were right; that whatever path you chose was the correct path to take, now and into the future. It makes a world of complicated loose-ends and shades of gray into a perfect aesthetic of simplistic moral values. If you were correct, then it necessitates that something else was wrong; if your side is the right side, then whatever actions you took must also have been right. This is not to assign blame; life is a confusing tangle of messy and ugly truths intertwined with deceptions, many of which happen at the same time, or are even the same thing. To crave the shelter of simplicity, to want to feel the certainty that your idea of your own righteousness cannot be challenged, is perhaps one of the most honest parts of human nature.

Yet while this is an understandable instinct, it is not a good one. Jim Butcher elaborated on a fairly well-known idea of actions only justifiable by ourselves in his quote, “No one is an unjust villain in his own mind. Even - perhaps even especially - those who are the worst of us. Some of the cruelest tyrants in history were motivated by noble ideals, or made choices that they would call 'hard but necessary steps' for the good of their nation. We're all the hero of our own story.” 

My fear, however, does not come from the justifications that others do not give our actions. Instead I am more afraid of the normalization of violence that we can accept so long as those around us accept that violence. To be beyond reproach requires a community which believes that to be true of your character; inversely, to be irredeemable and monstrous is not something we choose to see for ourselves, but rather that we judge in how we see others. For Americans, I cannot claim to know the source, but I am certain of its consequences, when I look back even throughout my own short lifetime at the popularization of antiblackness, antisemitism, homophobia, and Islamophobia. Each of these philosophies are predicated on the understanding that an outside group is to blame for the violence being done against them, that there is a shared, unilateral complicity in corrupting evil which must somehow be vanquished. 

I think often about the potency of symbols and iconography within the human psyche. Simple images which, through some miracle, have become more than what they could ever otherwise be. Icons are sanctuaries, places of holiness, of veneration. They cease to be mere images and become a representation of philosophies, ideals, and concepts, empowering whatever they represent like a focusing prism might strengthen the light and heat of a ray of sun to set a fire from a single perfect point. Meaning is found in the most illogical of things, but that does not reduce the fact that we find meaning in them nonetheless. So I find it concerning to witness within the modern American politics of the radical leftist revolutionaries what seems to be an unconscious commitment to perpetuation of the iconography of violence.

    Consider the guillotine. There have been countless stories of its legend, its grim history attached to the shining blade. Its inventor was the Doctor Guillotin, who sought to create a more humane method of murder ordered by a ruling class of citizens–at the time, there were the options of a headsman or a gallows, both of which caused, ostensibly, too much cruelty in the ending of human lives by human hands. I do not believe that Guillotin would have envisioned the legacy of bloodshed he would allow, but I do not believe that anyone ever expected the bloodlust of the French Revolution to reach such awful heights.

    They were awful, without a doubt. Over the course of less than a year more than fifteen thousand people were executed via the guillotine, with another twenty-five thousand being executed through other means. Looking not back to the words of the past, but instead to the philosophies of the present, I believe that the guillotine captures something in our imaginations like no other method of execution ever has. It is a clean, simple, perfected machine, tall and central in wherever it sits, confrontational in its exact function. The great equalizer of all men, Madame Guillotine, for we are all comrades in that we are mortal. And, of course, it is a more humane way to separate men’s ghosts from their bodies. 

    It is this concept more than any that I think is why the modern revolution’s iconography exists so strongly within the grip of the falling blade. We seek to understand ourselves not as murderers or tyrants, but as merciful victors, somber in our need to enforce justice and rules, refusing to relish the idea of suffering even if there is simply no other course but to kill. To torture, maim, and cause as much agony as possible for our personal delights would be truly ghoulish, unacceptable, and prove that we of course are no better than what we defeated. It is a very Romantic means of death; there is spectacle, but there is brevity. There is poetry to the righteousness of an impartial Sword of Damocles, yet we do not stoop to sully our community’s hearts with needless pain.

    All of this is a lie. There is no community worth anything which seeks to root its foundations in the efficiency of ending human life. To kill another person as painlessly as possible due to perceived moral necessity is not a mercy, because it by nature must justify the action of murder. Morality ceases to be a function when the legalization of the taking of another’s life is the source of it.

    But still, I cannot pretend I do not understand, or even that I do not want to agree, with many of my fellow anarchists. I see the symptoms of a system of government and commerce which has, with no metaphor or allusion, encouraged the permittance of treating human life as a resource to be extracted for profit. I see private citizens funding with personal billions upon billions of dollars the violent usurpation of a foreign nation to prevent their trillion-dollar businesses from being slightly less of a trillion-dollar business. I see leaders of our country witness the countless murders of black men, women, and children, and call for the communities of the dead to control their anger, instead of controlling the killers that remain unpunished or even become celebrated for the ultimate miscarriage of justice, that which ends in the destruction of human beings. I see my planet not even being granted a slow and limping fading-away as it is instead accelerated to apocalyptic levels of death due to the refusal of sacrificing profit for survival. How could I not understand the need for a means to prove to the kings of our kind that they, too, shall die–and by the hands of those they would continue killing, if need be?

    Unrest has moved through our world and nation not as a wildfire has, clean and purifying, but as a plague which infects and sickens the hearts, minds, and souls of us and what we make. Our bitter fury at our own powerlessness to prevent harm being done festers and rots like mold in the pit of a peach, capable of killing everything sweet in the world as it lay just beneath the skin. There is a logic to why the guillotine has become such a potent symbol of change, but I do not want to admit that there is a justification for perpetuating that symbol. To venerate and lionize a means of murder and execution ordered by those in power is, I worry, not just to continue a cycle of violence and the reinvention of structures of suffering we live under now. I worry that, at its very core, it encourages an inability to think of any hope for change that does not glorify death and destruction. Perhaps every act of creation necessitates destruction; perhaps a violent upheaval in the loosing of shackles is inevitable for the future of humanity. Certainly it is difficult to envision a reality of realpolitik that does not begin and end with human death at human hands.

    But just because it is difficult, or perhaps even impossible, does not mean that we should not shy away from the iconography of violence-as-politics, of murder-bringing-change. I think there is very little in our government and systemic structures that is worth salvaging, truly, but I think of something other than headless corpses piled in the city square when I try and imagine a better world.

    Fire has always been an icon in human history; it predates history, and even predates humans. It is destructive, but its destruction is a purification and cleansing. Nothing remains but ash and charcoal, but because nothing remains, it means that you are free to take an entirely new path, with nothing in the past to shackle you. It appears in Creation myths as both creator and destroyer; the conflagrating Shiva, Lord of the Dance; the father of humanity, Prometheus, stealing flames to gift to the first cold and lonely humans instead of being hoarded by selfish Zeus; Coyote climbs the mountains of the sky to take for us fire from the giants, and now the tip of his tail is burnt black from it forever. It appears in the supernatural as divinatory and healing; the Oracle of Delphi inhaling the burning fumes of the gods; the priests of God lighting candles to exorcise demons; the tarot traditionally depicts The Tower, or The House of God, as lightning-struck and aflame, an omen of cataclysmic destruction and overwhelming catastrophic change. Wherever we look, we see fire and fear it as much as we love it, for it is the flames that both grant us life and warmth and kills all it touches with the same breath.

    If we must move away from the perpetuation of violence in revolutionary iconography, I must respect the power of iconography at all. Power abhors a vacuum, and propaganda as a rallying cry is an eminent source of empowerment and strength for our convictions. I think of the wildfires of California, and the chaparral which must be burnt to cinders requires to grow and stay healthy as an ecological biome. Entire ecosystems have evolved with the understanding of their end by flame inevitable, and have tied their births to the ashes that are left behind. It is not in the homeland of my tribe that I see a possible replacement for the guillotine–there is no real romance in a pinecone–but I find it elsewhere.

    There is a part of the Cape of Africa called the fynbos, or fine bush. It is a region of land where more than four in five plants are endemic to nowhere else except that miniscule hundred kilometer band. Fires rampage through it every decade or so, eradicating the lush beauty of the hills bright with flowers, each trying to attract the pollination of the sunbirds which live in the region and feed off of their nectar.

    It is in the ashes and smoke of a wildfire which has left nothing of the old world that I find what symbol I see myself in. Four days after the conflagration, a single flower will have bloomed; the Cyrtanthus ventricosus, commonly named as the fire lily. These plants bloom only after the soil their bulbs live in are exposed to extreme temperatures; they are exclusively pollinated by a single species of butterfly; within two weeks, the flowers will have died as the rest of the fynbos explodes back into vegetation, and it goes dormant once more as a bulb, waiting for the next fire to come, as I suppose it must know it always will.

    I want to be clear: I do not see this as an appropriate symbol because of the idea that it represents the hope of a future where justice has won. I think that the lie of victory over oppression is perhaps the greatest danger we face as Americans; we are too easily comforted by the idea that the fight for civil rights and humanity can exist in the past, definitively beaten, or only ever in the smallest dregs, never truly a threat anymore. The idea of history being something we create, as opposed to something which does not apply to us, is not seductive as righteousness is, but rather a terrified grip onto complacency: If we live in times where injustice must be fought, then that means if we are not fighting injustice, we are why it must be fought. The fire lily, on the surface, lives only after the revolution of fire. It is perhaps to others a sign of beauty, perhaps of hope, that life shall exist even after the most calamitous of change.

    To me it is the knowledge that the fire lily did not come to life after the fire–justice does not live only once injustice is defeated. The fire lily is a lily. It is a plant which grows from the same bulb, flowering again and again, withering away each time and waiting for its moment to bloom. It is never dead, it may only be killed; otherwise, it is still there, just below the surface of the soil, unseen and ignored by many, but exists within the foundations of the world nonetheless.

    The point in time where any of us will ever be able to say, “This is after the revolution”, will never come. The fight against human cruelty, against murder and violence in all its sizes and shapes and justifiications, against conflict and struggle and suffering–it is never something able to be won. We exist in a constant state of learning more about our fellow man, and our ideas of justice grow with each new thing we learn. To be alive is to change into something other than what you were mere moments ago; to be dead is definitionally to stagnate, unable to change yourself, merely to be changed by those around you. The fire lily did not grow after the revolution, it merely was most visible then. Fire happens when we grow rampant and green and far too comfortable with the idea of forgetting that, just like justice exists within the foundations of our societies, so too does injustice, waiting to strike. The only difference between the fire and the flower in this system of symbology, then, is merely what symbols we see in them, and what we are willing to do about it.