#essentially john starts to feel what he always imagined what “feelings” are supposed to be and after a long time of him and hughie oddly

[buddietommys]

"Why not?"

"I wish you were a girl."

[mackenzielovee]

hiiiii angel!

I have a request for rafe x reader x jj.

In which Barry uses the reader as a collateral after rafe accumulates late payments for the substances he consumed and jj steals the 25K from him. The reader has been hanging out with both boys since she has a strong connection with both. Barry has been watching them all three interact over the last month and finds the reader as the perfect way to make them pay for their mistakes. Barry confronts both boys and right when he’s aiming to shoot the reader either JJ or Rafe get in the way and take the shot instead ( you can choose who) and the other boy promises to take care of the reader and protect her from all dangers. Meanwhile the other one is bleeding himself to death while giving his life for reader. This idea was so random but I’m so obsessed!!! Please please please! I’m so excited it would mean the world to me<3

a/n: hey baby! thank you so much for this request. I actually loved writing this and i hope i did it just the way you wanted! please let me know if you enjoyed it! ily<3

Warnings: swearing, talk of drug abuse, gun play, gun fire, blood, mentions of death,

Word Count: 5.5k

my writing

protection - rafe cameron

It's a warm day out on the Cut. As you walk through the tall grass and slap away a mosquito that landed on your arm, you think about how JJ is going to want to swim once you get the boat out into the water, and you forgot your bathing suit. You hope Kie has one that she left over at John B's, maybe you could steal it.

Faintly, you hear the hum of a dirt bike as it gets closer to you, but you think nothing of it. You're holding a six pack of JJ's favorite beer in your hand, excited to get the day started. You, JJ, John B, and Sarah all planned to take the boat out for a joyride and a day on the water. Kiara's working and Pope is preparing for his scholarship interview, an excuse that made JJ call him a nerd.

You hear the bike start to approach you, so you turn to see who it is. You've never seen anyone with a bike this close to John B's house. You don't recognize the guy under the helmet, but you don't really have time, because he pulls the bike in front of you and stops, scaring the shit out of you.

"Hey there, sweetheart," you hear, and immediately know the voice of the slimy drug dealer himself.

Barry removes his helmet and smirks at you, eyeing you up and down. You look disgusted with him, not sure what he wants with you but knowing you want no part of it.

"Get out of my way, Barry," you snap.

Barry's an asshole, always has been. One of your other good friends, Rafe Cameron, buys coke from him on the regular. You've been trying to get Rafe off of it and even went so far as to see Barry to get him to stop selling to Rafe, but it didn't work out. Barry just called you 'princess' a lot and then told you he'd lose a fuck ton of money if Rafe ever gets clean.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Barry laughs, but it's sarcastic, "Are those beers up for grabs?"

You instinctively pull your occupied hand back, away from him so he can't grab it.

"No," you say, trying to side step him. He hops off his bike and walks in front of you, quickly boxing you in.

"Listen, sweetheart, it's nothing against you. But I'm gonna need you to get on the bike," Barry's voice is thick, making you swallow your anxiety.

You wonder if you screamed for JJ, would he hear you? Or would Barry rip your throat out before any noise even came out?"

"Not a chance," you reply, trying to keep yourself calm.

Barry snickers, then brings his beady eyes back up to yours. He steps closer, making you step back, until your back hits the bike and you had no way of getting away from him.

"I'm gonna say it one more time," he tells you, "And then it might have to get ugly. Get on the fuckin' bike."

Your heart is beating a mile a minute with no idea what this man wants with you or where he's taking you, but you know better than to go anywhere with him. You shake your head, sure words will fail you right now. Barry just sighs, then reaches up to his back and pulls a gun out from his pants. The beers fall from your hand to the ground, splitting open and spilling out on the ground.

"Oh, now, that's just a big waste," Barry uses the gun to point down at the beers, "Get on the goddamn bike. Now."

You don't see any other option; essentially it's live and get on the bike, or die right here, less than half a mile from John B's. You can already imagine the memorial JJ will build for you when they find out this is the spot you died in. Somehow, it comforts you. Only a little.

"Why are you doing this?" you ask him quietly as you turn to face the bike.

Barry watches as you sit down on the back of his bike, then uses the gun to slowly stroke up your bare thigh. You can smell his breath as he leans in to speak to you.

"Your boys both owe me. Big time. So, I'm taking the one thing I know they'll pay good money for," he smirks, then hands you his helmet, "Don't want you to get hurt, sweetheart."

You want to throw up every time he calls you that, but instead, you grab the helmet from him and put it on. You look back, hoping maybe, for some reason, JJ had wandered out and would just so happen to see you. All you see is trees. Barry hops on and starts up the bike, then turns back to you again.

"Now, you're supposed to hold on here," he tells you, wrapping your arms around his waist, "But if you feel so inclined to move your hand a little south of that, well, I don't mind at all."

You gag and loosen your grip on him as much as you can, not wanting to touch him any more than you have to. He starts up the bike just as his words sink into your mind. Your boys both owe me. What does that even mean?

Barry takes off, not bothering to go any slower with you. It's a pretty short ride back to his place, but feels longer to you because of how sick you feel. Every thought goes through your mind; he's taking you back here so he can kill you in private, he's going to rape you, sell you to some old Kook who will keep you in the basement. All sorts of things you think of, none of them good.

When you get back to his house, he stops the bike and you immediately jump off. So does Barry, who winds up just throwing the bike down in the grass. You throw the helmet down too, not caring if he wanted you to do that or not.

"What are you talking about?" you snap, watching Barry act surprised by your outburst, "Who owes you money? What boys? Why me?"

Barry rolls his eyes and shakes his head, then reaches over and grabs onto your wrist. You try to pull away, but his grip is firm.

"Don't fucking start that shit with me," he snaps at you, "Get in the house."

His tone scares you, and even though you know you shouldn't, you obey. You just want to know why you're here and what the hell is going on.

You walk up the stairs to the porch and sit down on the couch, the same one Rafe sits on every time he buys from Barry.

"Tell me what's going on," you say once you're seated.

Barry picks up a blunt from the table and lights it up, silently holding it out to offer you some. You shake your head and scrunch your nose up, disgusted with it. That makes Barry grin.

"Rafe owes me money," Barry states simply.

You raise your eyebrow, "So?"

Barry looks over at you, giving you the 'are you serious?' look. He sits down in the chair beside the couch, taking a long drag off his blunt before he speaks again.

"So," he says, "Did you know JJ stole 25k from my house?"

Your expression falters and your jaw drops, telling Barry you know nothing of it. That almost makes him feel guilty for scaring you so bad back there, if you were totally innocent. But he needs his money, and you're his one way ticket to it.

"JJ wouldn't do that," you say, not being able to stop the hesitation in your voice.

"Really?" Barry snickers, "Well, he did. And since both of them boys seem to be wrapped around your little finger, you and I are gonna become best friends until I get my money. Understand, sweetheart?"

You glare at him, now understanding what he wants with you.

"So, I'm just collateral," you confirm, watching Barry's lips turn up around his blunt when you speak.

"Exactly," he smiles, "Now. Do you have your phone with you, or did you drop it when you spilled my beers?"

You huff at him and roll your eyes, then lean over in your bag and pull it out of the front pocket. Barry snatches it quickly, then asks you what your code is. You tell him, knowing if he can just get the boys here fast, you won't have to be alone with him anymore.

"Should I send them a picture of you holding up a newspaper? Don't they do that in all the hostage shows on TV?" Barry laughs to himself, looking up at you for confirmation.

You shrug, not wanting to speak to him any more than you have to. Barry rolls his eyes.

"Them boys really put up with that attitude?" he snaps at you, "Goddamn, I could never. You better straighten up, honey."

You just stare at him, deciding it's best if the two of you don't speak. Barry hits send and then tucks your phone in his pocket.

"That should send those two idiots running," Barry laughs, taking another hit from his blunt and then looking over to you again, "You sure you don't wanna try this? Might help you fucking relax."

You glare at him once again and then shake your head, looking away from him. You can tell out of the corner of your eye that he stands up, but when he grabs your chin and forces you to look over at him, you gasp.

"Straighten out, or I'll do it for you," he says, then roughly releases you.

You sigh and sit back on the couch, praying that at least one of the boys will arrive soon. Barry sits back down in his seat and tries to strike up a conversation, pretending he hadn't just manhandled you.

"So, which one are you gonna choose?"

Your head snaps over as you stare at him, trying to figure out what the hell he's talking about.

"What?" you ask, your voice giving away your confusion.

"You know," Barry shrugs, "They're both, like, crazy in love with you. So, if I have to shoot one to teach the other a lesson, which one would you pick?"

You roll your eyes, "You're fucking crazy."

Barry leans forward and stares at you, blunt hanging from his lips. He slams his hand down on the table in front of you, trying to get your attention.

"They stole from me," he shouts now, "Both of them. Someone's going to fuckin' pay for that."

You just nod your head, hoping he'll just shut up now. You don't want to talk about how they stole or Barry teaching either of them a lesson. You just want to go home. You should've never been walking by yourself in the first place. Then again, you never dreamed some psycho with a gun would come along.

"I think it'll be JJ," Barry continues, "You seemed pretty bummed on Cameron when he refused to quit his shit. But, you know, take your pick. Drug addict or thief. Man, it's like the Bachelor or some shit up in here."

Your eyes roll so far back into your head that you swear you can see your brain. When you look over at him, he's still laughing at his own joke.

"They're going to pay you back, and then you're never going to see any of us again," you say confidently. Barry just laughs.

"Yeah, okay, sweetheart."

You look over form the porch when you hear a noise, then sigh with relief when you see Rafe's truck pull up. He's driving fast, too fast, and he hops out of the truck the second he gets within running range of the porch. He doesn't even bother to close the door behind him.

You try to stand and go out to him, but Barry grabs your arm and keeps you down on the couch.

"Easy," he tells you, reaching behind him and pulling out his gun. He sets it down on the table in front of him, and you take note of how his expression changes from laughing to pissed off.

Rafe runs up to the porch and swings open the door, and that's when Barry releases you. You stand and rush to him, feeling Rafe sigh in relief as he wraps his strong arms around your little body. All of your anxiety melts away as you know you're safe now. Rafe would never let anything happen to you.

"Please tell me you're okay," Rafe whispers against your head, squeezing you tight.

"I'm okay," you confirm.

He pulls back from the hug and starts checking all over your body for injuries anyway. He holds up your arms and scans those, stopping his finger over a bruise you already had. It happened on the boat with JJ.

"I'm fine," you repeat to him, laying your head back on his chest. You really just don't want him to let go of you.

"What the fuck, Barry?" Rafe yells, his voice echoing through your ear as you have your head pressed on his chest.

"Afternoon, Country Club," Barry stands and smirks, watching the way you cling to Rafe.

You don't look at him, you just close your eyes and breathe Rafe in, not wanting to remember where you are. In your mind, the two of you are hanging out and eating lunch at the club. You always love going, especially on windy days when his scent travels from across the table. You love the way he smells.

"I'd like to change my answer, sweetheart," Barry tells you, ignoring Rafe's confused glance, "I think this one might love you back, Rafe. How sweet."

Rafe instinctually tightens his arm up around you, keeping you pressed up against him.

"I swear to God," Rafe starts, "If you laid one hand on her-"

"I didn't, Jesus," Barry groans, "I wish you cared about getting me my money the same way you care about saving this bitch."

You don't react, not even slightly. You don't care what Barry thinks of you. You just never want his slimy hands to touch you. Ever again.

"She's not a bitch, man," Rafe's voice goes quiet, "And I'm going to get you your money."

Barry laughs and then pretends to cry, "Boo who, she's not a bitch. I don't care, bro. I gave you shit on two separate occasions-"

"And I gave you my bike as collateral!" Rafe shouts back.

"That piece of shit ain't worth half what you owe me," Barry spits, "Your girl liked riding on it, though."

Rafe's chest tenses against you, and then you feel him bring his hand up to stroke your hair. He's trying to keep you as relaxed as possible.

"Y/N, go wait in my truck," Rafe tells you quietly, pulling the keys out of his pocket.

"Oh, no, no," Barry smirks, reaching out and snatching the keys from Rafe, "You think you're the only person I called here?"

As if on cue, the porch door swings open again and JJ walks in. Your eyes open and you see him, his expression worse than you've ever seen him.

"You got her?" JJ points to you, but he's talking to Rafe.

Rafe just nods, tightening his grip around you again. You open your mouth to speak, but watch as JJ charges toward Barry and punches him square in the nose.

"What the fuck did you do?" JJ shouts, watching Barry tumble to the floor, "If I find out you fucking hurt her-"

Barry laughs from the floor, wiping blood from his nose, "Easy, bro. You two are so damn worried about this chick."

JJ's chest is expanding and then contracting every five seconds, telling you his adrenaline is going crazy. You know he's ready to punch him again. Barry stands and picks up his gun from the coffee table, pointing it directly at JJ. You try to push forward to stop it, but Rafe keeps his grip tight.

"Now," Barry says, spitting his blood onto the floor, "You bitches are gonna pay up."

"Barry, I'll get you your money, man," Rafe promises. When Barry moves and points the gun at Rafe, he quickly tucks you behind him. He gives you one of his hands to hold onto, while the other one goes up to stop Barry from shooting.

"Yeah, when?" Barry yells, "I told you, Cameron. It's not just me you're screwing with."

Rafe nods his head, doing his best to try and calm Barry down. JJ looks over at you, mouthing 'are you okay?'

You nod at him, your expression clearly giving you away. You're scared, and he knows it.

"I know, bro," Rafe says, "Some people still owe me from the party Friday night. I'm going to get it, I just need some time."

Barry laughs sarcastically and lowers the gun, "Oh, yeah, for sure, man. You know what, take your time, Rafe."

Rafe's expression changes, knowing Barry doesn't mean it. He just wonders what that means for getting you out of here.

"The girl stays with me until both of you are paid up," Barry tells both of them.

"Like hell," JJ mutters.

Barry, who is still pissed about his nose, turns around and hits JJ in the head with the stock of the gun. You watch JJ stumble back, and without hesitation, break from Rafe's grasp and rush over to him. Rafe reaches out to try and grab you, but his grip isn't good enough.

"JJ!" you say, grabbing onto him as he stumbles. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, allowing you to help him stand.

"Shit," JJ mumbles, gripping his forehead. He pulls his fingers back and sees blood.

"Damn, darlin'," Barry grins at you, "You really do love them both."

You glare at Barry for the millionth time today as you set your arm around JJ's waist and lead him over to sit down. He sits in the chair Barry had been sitting in and you stand in between his legs, moving his hand away to see his wound.

Barry looks over at Rafe, who has his jaw clenched as he watches you stand in between JJ's legs and clean him up. He watches as JJ's hand lingers on the back of your thigh, his fingers brushing your skin ever so slightly.

"That's gotta hurt," Barry says to Rafe, getting a lot of amusement out of watching the boys squirm over you.

You ignore whatever Barry says as you use the bottom of your shirt to wipe off some of the blood on JJ's forehead. It's not bleeding badly, which you're thankful for. You're almost sure Barry doesn't own a first aid kit.

"Now, JJ," Barry steps over to you two, "Let's talk about how you stole twenty-five thousand dollars out of my house, yeah?"

Barry presses the gun to the back of JJ's neck, making JJ tense up. You watch Barry, bringing your hands to JJ's shoulders and holding onto him, as if to comfort him somehow.

"I'll get it back," JJ says, his voice hoarse.

"You bet your ass you will," Barry tells him, "When will that be, exactly?"

JJ sighs, knowing it won't be any time soon. That money is long gone.

"Can we set up a payment plan?" JJ asks sarcastically.

He regrets it when Barry grabs onto your arm and pulls you away, pressing the gun into your stomach as he holds onto you. JJ stands quickly and Rafe starts to rush over, but stops when he sees the look in Barry's eyes.

"You know, I'm getting real sick of being treated like a bitch," Barry tells them, pressing the gun into you harder, "I want my money. Now."

You let out an involuntary groan at the pain, watching Rafe as he tries to figure out what to do.

"Let her go, Barry," Rafe finally speaks, "Let her sit down and I'll go get your money."

"All of it?" Barry confirms.

Rafe nods, "All of it. Just let her sit down over there."

Barry looks at both boys, noting how pathetic they are. He's glad, though, knowing all he has to do is threaten your life to get what he wants. He just doesn't understand what's so damn special about you.

He releases your arm and shoves you in the direction of the couch, Rafe stepping forward to grab you. He pulls you into him again, leading you over to sit down.

"You all right?" he asks you, taking a seat beside you and bringing his hands up to your cheeks.

"Yes," you reply, nodding feverishly as if to try and convince him.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? I'm so sorry, baby," he whispers as he pulls you into him.

Your breath catches in your throat as he calls you 'baby'. He's never done that before. Your mind wanders back to Barry telling you that both boys are crazy in love with you. You now sit there in Rafe's arms, wondering if Barry's right.

Rafe pulls back and looks at you in the eyes again, "Just sit right here for me, okay? I'm gonna go get the money. I'll be right back."

You nod again, silently promising him that you'll be here when he gets back. As if you could leave. He rubs the base of his thumb on your cheek and gives you a small smile, then stands up. He curses, knowing he doesn't want to leave you here.

JJ steps over to Rafe as he walks toward the door, grabbing his arm.

"Where the fuck are you gonna get twenty six thousand bucks right now, man?" JJ hisses, keeping his voice down for your sake.

"I don't know, JJ, I was thinking I'd walk into the bank and ask nicely," Rafe snaps, "I have no fucking idea. But I have to figure something out, right?"

JJ runs his hands through his hair and exhales loudly, then looks over and smiles quickly at you. Barry watches the boys, trying to figure out what's going on.

"Dude-"

"Just," Rafe starts, already annoyed with JJ, "Stay with her. I'm going to figure it out."

Rafe hates telling JJ to comfort you and be there for you, but it's the way it has to be. No way JJ could get his dirty hands on that kind of money right now. Or ever. JJ nods and starts walking over to you as Rafe thinks about how much money his dad might have in his safe right now.

"You know," Barry starts, standing up again with the gun in his hand, "I'm starting to think you don't really have my money, Country Club."

"Chill out, Barry," Rafe sighs, stepping toward the door once more. The safety of the gun being turned off is what makes Rafe stop dead in his tracks.

"Tell me the truth, Rafe," Barry says.

Rafe slowly turns around with his hands up, swallowing quickly.

"I'm going to get it," Rafe states again.

Barry shakes his head, "You're lying."

Before Rafe can process it, Barry moves the gun in your direction. He looks at you for a second, the horror on your face, and you know your body is frozen. You shut your eyes, not wanting to see it happen. At least you'll die with the boys.

The shot fires fast, but you don't feel anything. You hear a yell, then Rafe scream out, and when you open your eyes, JJ's lying on the ground. Your jaw falls open as you tumble onto the floor beside him, setting your hand on his bleeding stomach. Your hand is soaked instantly, but you don't know what else to do.

"JJ," you cry out, watching his eyes find yours, "JJ, oh, my God."

Tears fall down your face as you stare at him, his eyes glazing over. He's just watching you panic. Rafe comes over and sinks down beside you, not knowing how to help.

"Towels, Rafe," you order, "Hurry."

You spot a random shirt laying on the ground, one you're sure is Barry's and use it for the time being to soak up some of the blood.

"Hey, JJ, I'm right here," you tell him, watching your tears fall onto his shirt. They become invisible immediately, the blood stains swallowing them up.

"Are you okay?" JJ chokes out, spitting blood from his mouth onto the floor when he finishes speaking. You shake your head and try to swallow your tears, but you can't.

"I'm fine, JJ, just relax," you tell him, then look up, "Rafe!"

Rafe comes out of Barry's and onto the porch with towels in his hand, stopping only when Barry grabs onto his arm.

"I was aiming for her, remember that," Barry tells him.

Rafe just yanks his arm away and comes to you, placing one of the towels over JJ's wound.

"Rafe, what do we do?" you ask frantically, trying to ignore the blood that now seeps onto the floor.

Rafe shakes his head, having absolutely no idea what to do. He brings his hands over yours and puts more pressure on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"You have to call 911," you tell Rafe, "Go."

Rafe stares at you for a second, still stunned, when JJ starts to speak from the floor.

"Rafe," JJ chokes, "You gotta get her out of here, man."

"Not a chance, JJ," you say, trying your best to smile at him.

JJ looks over at Rafe again, "Rafe."

His voice is serious, and Rafe knows exactly what he's telling him. He's a goner, and he knows it. But he doesn't want you to watch him die. Rafe nods to JJ, telling him he understands. He watches JJ relax and lay his head back down, then stands up. JJ brings his hand down to yours and wraps his fingers around you. You squeeze, trying to tell him it's going to be okay.

"Go call," you remind him.

Rafe steps across JJ's body and, without speaking, tucks his arm around your waist and picks you up. He knows this won't be easy, and he can already feel his emotions coming up.

"Rafe, put me down!" you shout, your blood soaked hands going down to try and peel his arm off of you, "Rafe, stop! JJ!"

He carries you over to the door of the porch, doing his best to keep his grip tight as you fight with every ounce of strength you have.

"Let me go, Rafe! I have to help him!" you're screaming your head off, and Rafe hates it, but he knows he has to do what's best for you.

He glances back only for a second and sees JJ's shallow breathing, knowing he doesn't have much time left.

"Rafe!" you scream, kicking and thrashing around to try and get away.

"I have to make sure you're safe," Rafe tells you as the two of you reach the truck, "It's what he wants me to do."

"He's going to die!" you scream, "Let go of me! I'll never forgive you for this!"

Rafe opens the passenger door of the truck and puts you inside, using all of his strength to keep you there.

"You'll be alive, though!" Rafe raises his voice at you, making you stop. He's never yelled at you, not once.

You choke on your sobs as you see the blood all over Rafe's shirt, then all over your own. He buckles you in and closes your door, then rushes around the truck.

"Don't think this makes us even, Rafe Cameron!" Barry yells from the porch. Rafe flips Barry off and then gets into the truck, starting it and speeding off without buckling himself.

"Rafe, stop!" you yell, "I can't leave him there! He's all alone!"

"This is what he wanted!" Rafe yells back at you, stepping further down on the gas pedal.

"I don't care, I don't want him to be alone!" you cry, reaching for the door handle.

Rafe locks the doors and puts child lock on, preventing you from flinging out of the truck. You bang your fist on the window as he does, leaving a blood stain there.

"Rafe!" you look over and scream at him again.

He gets so frustrated he pulls the truck off the path and sets it in park, then turns to you. He grabs onto both of your wrists and holds them down.

"Calm the fuck down, right now," he demands, "Calm down."

You sit back in the seat and do as you're told, but your tears still fall. JJ just gave his life up to save yours, and Rafe doesn't seem to care at all.

"You need to understand that my only priority back there was to keep you safe. I'm sorry about JJ, baby, I am, but staying would've only put you in more danger."

You shake your head at him, almost as if you're disgusted. You let out a sob and then try to wipe your eyes, only smearing JJ's blood on your face. He reaches over and grabs your cheek, pulling you to look at him.

"I'm going to go back there and get his body. You can say goodbye to him. I'm gonna pay off Barry and never go back there. But I'm going to protect you first, do you understand?"

You nod your head under his touch, letting out another sob as soon as you try to breathe in. Rafe brings his hands down to your hips and pulls you toward him, over the console and into his lap.

"Come here," he whispers gently, tucking his arms around you and holding you close.

He knows you're a mess right now and there's blood all over his truck, but he doesn't care. He just wants you to calm down.

"Rafe," you sob, not knowing what else to say. His shirt becomes soaked with tears quickly.

"I know," he tells you softly, "I know."

"He saved me," you say, more just processing what happened, "Oh, my God, he's dead because of me."

"Shh," Rafe hushes you, his heart feeling like it's breaking in two as he listens to you, "It's not your fault. None of this is. Just calm down for me, baby."

Your hands come up and wrap around the back of Rafe's neck as you nuzzle your nose into the front of it. He brings one hand up to stroke through your hair, trying to relax you.

"We're okay," he soothes, his other hand rubbing your back, "Everything's okay."

You two sit there for a while, Rafe just rubbing on you and calming you down, until eventually, you start to come to terms with what happened. He's thankful you're no longer hysterical.

"Let's go get you cleaned up," Rafe whispers against your head once he feels you relax against him.

You pull back and look him in the eyes, feeling his hand come up to wipe blood from your cheek.

"You'll go back and get him?" you confirm.

Rafe nods, "Yes, of course."

You nod your head and then bring your hand up to his cheek the same way he had on yours, observing how soft his skin is. You think about what Barry told you about them both loving you, and how he later told you that you love them both.

"Rafe?" you ask, your voice nasally from all the crying and screaming, "Can I ask you a question?"

Rafe nods, loving the feeling of your skin on his. It relaxes him, makes him feel complete.

"Barry told me he thinks you're in love with me," you say quietly, leaving out the part about JJ.

You watch as Rafe nervously swallows, and then nods his head ever so slightly. You feel your heart swell, not knowing Rafe Cameron could ever make you feel that way.

"It's true?" you ask him, searching around in his eyes for any kind of doubt. There is none.

"Yeah," Rafe barely whispers.

"Oh," you say, watching Rafe's expression change to hurt as you glance away.

He's sure you don't feel the same. When you look up at him again, he's staring intensely at you.

"Is it okay that I love you, too?" you ask him, voice fragile.

Rafe smiles slightly, then watches as you smile too.

"Yeah," he repeats, but with more authority this time.

He leans his head down and then hesitates, making you hesitate as well. You reach up and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to you. His lips make yours feel like they're on fire as they move together. He reaches up and grabs your cheeks, holding you to him. He pulls away after about a minute, staring at you in full adoration.

"I'm so sorry about today," he tells you, keeping his grip on your face, "I will never put you in any danger like that ever again."

You nod your head slowly, "I know that."

Rafe smiles down at you, bringing one hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

"Let's go get you a shower," he says softly.

He doesn't make you get back in your seat, however. He just tightens his grip around you and puts the car in drive again, allowing you to hold onto him while he drives. It almost reminds you of being on the bike with Barry this morning. But instead of being completely disgusted, you're completely in love.

[henrycavillobsessed]

A Christmas Distraction

Henry x first person reader

Summary: When your mother visit for Christmas, Henry finds a way to distract you from the ensuing stress.

Words: 1552

CW: smut (sex), overbearing mothers/strained mother-daughter relationship

Notes: Here’s a little smutty one-shot I wrote this evening, the last of my own ideas before I start on my 1000 follower celebration requests. Enjoy and Merry Christmas everyone! 

“So darling, we’ll be round for about 12pm. I expect lunch will be nearly ready then will it? I could bring the turkey, save you the trouble. Yours is usually a little dry anyway…” My mother’s voice droned on in my ear. I was still reeling from the news that she had just invited herself and my step-father round to mine and Henry’s house for Christmas. I honestly thought I’d gotten away with it this year, having heard nothing from her until now- now being the 22nd of December with only three days to go- so I thought it’d just be me, Henry and Kal this year. Small, intimate, relaxing, just perfect. Why did I pick up the phone? Why did I say yes? I finally come round to my senses and replied to my mother. “Mum, I’m a chef for a living. I’m more than capable of cooking the turkey.”  “Well yes love, but I don’t want you to get stressed, we both know what you can get like,” I only get like that around you, mother, I thought, and then sighed. “Mum, I’ll do all the cooking, see you on the day. Bye -bye now,” I hung up before she could say anything else. 

Kal suddenly started barking madly. I looked up and saw Henry walk in through the front door, home from the gym, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes and grinning at me whilst ruffling Kal’s fur. The sight of my man all damp and in his work-out gear was usually enough to launch myself at him and have him there and then on the living room floor. But my most recent phone call had seriously affected my mood, and Henry noticed. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he said, frowning, joining me on the sofa and wrapping an arm around me. I leant into his embrace. “My mother.” I said, my voice glum. “Oh no, what’s she done now?” I nearly laughed at his response. Henry was no stranger to how strained mine and mum’s relationship could be. Thankfully, he was supportive, always had been. “She’s coming for Christmas dinner, with John.” “When did she lay this on you? Doesn’t she know it’s three days until the 25th?” “Of course she does, she just doesn’t care. She rang me not long ago. Didn’t even ask, just invited herself. God why didn’t we go to your parent’s house again like last year?” I said, fondly remembering the festive season the year previously where Henry and I had spent an incredibly enjoyable week in Jersey with his parents and brothers. “Oh love. What can I do to help?” Henry asked, rubbing a hand up and down my back. I sighed again, and then reluctantly got up from the sofa. “I suppose I’ll have to go shopping. Care to join?” “We’ll take the Range Rover. We’ll need the bigger boot for all the extra wine you’re sure to need. Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the car keys.

Three days later and it truly was worse than I’d imagined. John, my step-father, had driven over, which meant mother had already started drinking, no doubt opening a bottle of Bucks Fizz before the sun had even risen on Christmas morning. She hadn’t been here ten minutes when she started in on my appearance, commenting on how my new hair cut just wasn’t flattering on a woman my age. She even insulted Henry, saying and I quote “don’t they pay you enough to afford nicer clothes on these little movies you do?” Henry’s fame didn’t faze her in the slightest, if anything it made her even ruder, but Henry, the perfect gentlemen as always, just smiled in response, although the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Once I’d got mum and John settled in the living room with drinks, Henry found me in the kitchen opening a bottle of red wine with every intent of just necking the whole thing. He reached up and grabbed a wine glass from the cupboard above the sink and gently took the bottle out of my hands and poured for me. I sat down, rubbing the spot above my eyes where a headache was forming. Henry sat down next to me, handing me the wine. “I’m so sorry, this wasn’t the Christmas I had planned for us,” I said to him. He squeezed my leg, and smiled. “Any Christmas I spend with you is perfect. I just hate seeing you like this, so stressed. It’s not fair.” “You can say that again,” I mumbled, sipping my wine. Henry stood up and leant against the counter top. He suddenly looked very mischievous. “I have an idea. What you need is a distraction.” “I don’t have time for distractions, I’ve got to do all this cooking because God forbid I get anything wrong or don’t serve it on time…” I replied, waving a hand towards the stovetop where multiple pans were boiling away. “Come on, it will take five minutes…” “Henry I can’t-“ I started, but was interrupted with a shrill “Y/N!” coming from the living room, accompanied by what sounded like a fork being tapped against an empty wine glass. “Changed my mind, a distraction sounds fantastic,” I said, necking my wine and taking his hand. I was surprised when he led me to the room just next door, the utility room where I did the laundry. “What are we doing in here?” I laughed. Henry slid a box of laundry detergent across the door, essentially locking us in. He straightened up and turned around, licking his lips with a twinkle in his eye. I stopped laughing immediately. I knew what that look meant. “I told you, baby,” He walked towards me, slowly backing me up against the wall. “What you need is a distraction. And I am more than happy to be the one doing the distracting…” I swallowed, awareness coursing through my body. He was everywhere, his muscular arms caging me in, his scent threatening to overpower me as he leant in slowly and took my mouth with his in a smoldering kiss, the effect of which I could feel pooling down below. I was instantly wet and wanting for him. “And what type of distraction,” I panted. “Did you have in mind Mr Cavill?” “The type where my cock is deep inside of you.” I almost came there and then listening to his voice, my arousal building. I didn’t know how much I needed that until he’d said it and now, I was desperate. “And what if our guests hear us?” “Hmm. Maybe I should gag you.” He smiled the smile of the devil as he reached into the clean laundry pile and produced one of ties. Staring into my eyes, he asked wordlessly for my consent. I nodded clearly, my mouth dry, my pussy soaked. He rolled the tie up and pushed it into my open, waiting mouth, using another tie to hold it in place which he knotted at the back of my head. “Turn around,” he commanded, and I obeyed. He leant down and placed a tender kiss on my neck, then another, and another. I moaned; the sound muffled. I felt his smile against my neck. His hands roamed downwards, one sliding into my trousers and then into my panties. His breath hissed as he felt the evidence of my arousal. He circled my clit, the feeling exquisite, and it wasn’t long until he brought me to a gentle, rolling orgasm. I could feel his dick hard against my back, and silently willed him to put it inside me, and, as in tune as we always were, Henry complied. He pulled us away from the wall, turning us to face the dryer. One of his beautiful hands pushed slightly against my back, urging me to bend forwards. He grasped both of my hands in his other, placing them on top of the dryer with a whispered don’t move and then suddenly, finally, he was inside me, easing himself in gently, his groan echoing mine as he filled me up. And then he was moving, each thrust hitting me inside just right and suddenly I could feel that pressure building again, I was coming, I was coming hard around him, and he was emptying himself hotly into me, our joint orgasm exploding through us and at that moment I had never been more grateful for the gag. Gently, Henry pulled out from me and removed my makeshift gag. “Jesus, Cavill…” “I hope that helped” He winked. After we finished putting our clothes back on, he kissed me quickly on the lips and flashed me his award-winning smile. Shaking my head with a smile of my own I followed him out of the utility room back into the kitchen, timing it near perfect as my mother walked in just after. “Y/N! I was calling you! Now, where are we at with this food? Oh, that turkey looks awful, dry as a bone! I keep telling you, the secret is- “ “Oh, mother, do shut up,” I said, shocking her into silence. Henry winked again as he left the room, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter, as I turned back to the stovetop, ignoring my mother’s outraged commentary, feeling thoroughly relaxed and distracted.

[katnissmellarkkk]

General #7

Hiiii! Okay, well I bet you thought I forgot about this! Or, more than likely, you forgot you even requested this back in Decemeber. But never fear, my child. I remembered and have been thinking of this fic and what to write for months. 

And so I’m so sorry, I’m a total perfectionist and I started and discared like 3 ideas for this before deciding on this oneshot sooo if this sucks, I’m at least comforted by the fact that I accomplished something in writing this itself? That sentence made zero sense but... I’m tired 🤷🏼‍♀️😅.

Prompt : General # 7 :

“Is that blood?” 

“Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” 

“You are literally bleeding.”

Anyways, thank you for the prompt and here we go! 

Whispers Of Light

I don't know exactly how I got roped into this. How exactly Delly Cartwright, Peeta's best friend—and alright, my friend now too—managed to convince me to help her and Leevy and about three dozen other members of the community with sorting boxes.

Sorting boxes. Organizing contents. Decorating with "found treasures".

The type of activities Prim loved doing with our mother. The type of activities I refused to do after my father died, to punish my mother for her depression.

The type of activities I now kick myself for walking out on, that I'll never be able to take back. I'll never be able to get those moments back with my sister. I'll never know what those hours between her and our mother entailed, because I chose to exclude myself, just so I could hold onto my petty anger for something that was out of all our control.

Maybe that's why I agreed to help Delly and the others with sorting through boxes upon boxes of debrief, of the items that scarcely survived Twelve's bombing almost two years ago. Maybe I only agreed out of guilt, both for never doing this type of endeavor with my sister and for being the direct cause of the bombing itself.

But whatever my reasons were, I agreed to help nonetheless, and I always follow through my promises. If there was one part of me forged in the war, if only one minor aspect of me was amplified in the smoke and haze and blood of revolution, it was the importance of keeping your promises, against all odds.

The dire consequences of a broken promise has long lasting aftereffects, beyond anything either Haymitch or I wish to dwell on.

"Katniss!" Delly calls, holding up an old, half-ripped paper book that is completely void of a front cover. "Look! I think this book is from the old Apothecary Shop!"

I squint at the dusty, decimated item, not entirely convinced. "I don't think so?" I murmur, unable to even decipher the words on the now melted, conjoined pages. "I'm pretty sure my mother kept the only apothecary book in her family?"

Kanon Bagley turns to inspect the battered item in his girlfriend's hands as well. "I don't think this is a medicinal plant book, Dells," he says sheepishly, a small smirk playing on his lips.

She gives him an incredulous look. "What do you mean medicinal?"

I peer up at him too, not comprehending his meaning any more than Delly. "What kind of plants do you think are in here?" I ask, taking the nearly destroyed object myself and flipping through the worn pages again, seeing odd herbs that neither of my parents ever mentioned or had on hand. "These don't look like the poisonous ones my father told me about?"

Kanon bites back a laugh now and I can't help feeling a little perturbed. As kind and soft-spoken as he usually is, I'm foreign to the feeling of him laughing at me. "What?" Delly snaps at him before I even can.

He still chuckles though, in spite of both our nasty glares. "You guys, it's a book of plants that'll get you high."

It takes a full minute for the meaning to dawn on me. Long enough that Leevy and a couple guys I used to go to school with come over to inspect the book as well. Long enough that they confirm Kanon's assessment just as I realize we're talking about plants that'll make you feel akin to how the morphling made me feel while confined for I killing Coin.

While everyone else snickers—and Delly full on chortles—I pass the book back to Kanon, sliding out of the crowd and moving towards a brand new box of savaged items.

It's not that the mention of plant-based drugs is a trigger for me. It's not something I ever truly gave any thought to before, to be honest. My father likely knew of them but it's not like he was about to bestow that kind of knowledge on his eleven-year-old and my mother perhaps felt it was inappropriate to mention.

No, it wasn't the subject in itself that hit a sore spot for me. But like so many times before, it's where the subject led my mind. It's where the topic took me back to.

Snow's Execution Day. The day I chose to kill President Coin instead. Being thrown back into my old tribute room. Getting high on the morphling.

Trying to forget all that I'd lost. Trying to forget my little sister becoming a human torch before my very eyes. My district engulfed in flames. The ambiguous loss of my best friend.

The connection between me and Peeta that I believed then would be permanently severed. That I believed then to be irreparable.

I suppose I believed then I was irreparable too.

And I miss Peeta suddenly, even more than I already did. Because he always knows what to say when my thoughts turn dark, when I'm suddenly triggered out of the happy, every day events and suctioned backwards to a war torn bird with her wings clipped.

But he's not here to talk me down or scare away the ghosts haunting my mind. He's not here to comfort me or even shoot me a supportive glance. No, he's at his very busy business today.

Peeta's bakery—the Mellark Bakery—has only proven to withstand the test of time these past few months. Since someone accidentally burned down the place, with nothing more than a croissant and a fancy Capitol toaster, the rebuilt bakery has been nothing but a success.

And also extremely time-consuming, I grumble internally, as I begin to pull out stuffed toys that once belonged to dead children.

"If any of those are still intact, we can donate them to the community home," Leaf John says as he opens the box across from me.

"And what exactly are we supposed to be use as decorations from these boxes?" I murmur, peering into another cardboard container, full of half-charred papers and cloths.

The general idea of today, as Delly had pitched it to me last week, was to help the community of Twelve finally sort through these boxes, donate what we could to those in need and decorate the new Justice Building with the leftover contents inside.

Somehow though I can't imagine pinning up terrible drawings of plants that'll inebriate you or headless teddy bears is going to bode well with the district.

Delly rolls her eyes in my direction—a whole new kind of response that I never thought I'd be receiving from the girl who skipped through the town square until she was fourteen years old—before nodding towards boxes on top of the ladder. "We're decorating the Justice Building with the surviving photos from those boxes, Katniss."

"Oh." Then why am I sorting these grimy, dirt-covered playthings? Why didn't anyone give me more clear instructions on today?

And why has it taken almost two years for Twelve to get a group of people together to organize the surviving items from the bombing?

I have no idea how Peeta's managed to get two bakeries built in the time it's taken for thirty-eight of us to come to the Justice Building and look through fifty cardboard boxes. And if I'm being honest, I have no idea why I'm even still here helping. I'm clearly not contributing much to the event. There's definitely more than enough volunteers without me.

And, of course, I could be at the bakery right now. Without a doubt, I'd be of more service there than I am here, digging through dusty knickknacks. I could be helping Peeta and Thom and the other part-time employees, exerting more knowledge and authority than I have here.

After all, Peeta did say the bakery was partially mine. In his mind, at least.

The ulterior motive of getting small, fleeting moments with my boyfriend, of basking in the feeling of safety with him beside me, of the occasional stolen kiss or hand squeeze when no one is looking, runs through the back of my mind.

And sways my decision immensely.

I open my mouth to tell Delly and the others that I'm about to head out, that they clearly have it covered here and I'm just in the way, when at the worst possible second, Leevy kindly murmurs, "Katniss, do you mind starting on the box on the ladder? Seeing if any of the pictures are in decent enough shape?"

I hesitate for a long moment, realizing immediately my predicament. It'd be rude to leave right after someone just essentially assigned me a task. I did agree to be here today, to help out with this tedious project. Leaving right now would only come off as rude and inconsiderate.

This is the reason I never did enjoy group assignments in school. The longer I'm here, the more I'm rediscovering this fact about myself. The division of the workload, the bore of the standing around, not knowing if you're doing the right or wrong thing, the lack of total control.

But I still nod after waiting a beat too long and agree with the nicest flare in my tone I can manage.

I'll go through the one box at the top of the ladder and then subtly make my exit afterwards. The image I unintentionally conjured up of Peeta and the bakery is still pulling at me, making me anxious to get back to him, to see him again even though we were together only three hours ago.

Since we officially became a couple a few months back—though Haymitch scoffs at that notion, claiming we've been together since Peeta first started sleeping over in my bed—I've found myself growing far more clingy to him than I ever could have anticipated. I hate when he leaves for the bakery in the mornings now, even as I still revel in the solace I find inside the woods. I look forward to his return home every night. More than even look forward to it, I'm usually at the bakery around the closing hours, helping him clean and inventory, asking him when he's coming home. Maybe looking somewhat unconsciously flirtatious as I say it.

I grab the box sitting on the ladder's top stair and pull it open, easily maintaining my balance one rung down, the same way I maintain my balance on a tree branch while hunting.

Inside pours out a plethora of photographs, mostly of Twelve's now past citizens. Near the top of the pile I see images of Greasy Sae's daughter, Dolly. The mother of her granddaughter. The daughter who died of croup a few years before the war.

Those photos must belong to Sae, I realize. Which means more of her items are probably scattered throughout the boxes here. And despite the fact that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she'll tell me not of be impractical, that if she's made it two years without these things she doesn't need them now, I still make a mental note to return her lost items. If nothing else, I make a mental promise to give back to her the photos of her daughter.

I know better than anyone what kind of comfort photographs of the deceased can provide.

As if in line with my thoughts, as if I alone manifested it somehow, the next image that catches my eye is one I entirely do not anticipate.

It's a shiny photo, on the kind of glossy paper my family could never afford. In the image is a blonde man with broad shoulders and a tall build. Wrapped in his embrace stands a petite girl, with long blonde curls and mascara accentuating her already long lashes. The couple both have eyes that match the color of the sky and are dressed up in some of the nicest clothes in all of Twelve. A white dress with lace. A gray suit with a black vest. The pretty girl wears jewelry and lipstick and there's a familiar glint in the male's eyes and I find myself mesmerized.

And I can't pretend I don't see my boyfriend in both of their faces. I can't pretend Peeta isn't the spitting image of both his parents.

He has his mother's smile, I realize with startling assurance. I never saw the witch smile personally, at any point in my life so I suppose I wouldn't know where he got his charming, sweet grin from.

The mannerism looks so out of place on his mother. The kind smile Peeta has, the one that could light up a blackened sky, doesn't bode with the woman in the picture, even on her wedding day. The charming smile doesn't fit with what I know of the woman's character. With what little about her Peeta chooses to share.

But I'm even more surprised to find how much Peeta has come to resemble his father. How much Peeta has grown to favor the now deceased man.

The last time I saw the baker—the original baker, that is. Haidon Mellark—before the Quarter Quell, I resented the fact that Peeta wasn't as tall or as broad as his father. I privately believed if he'd inherited those traits, he'd be even more likely to win the games again and I could worry about him less.

Peeta was always taller than me and was always remarkably strong, after working in the bakery since childhood. But his father was a whole different level. Haidon Mellark, I'd forgotten until now, had a body that could only rival my own father's.

And as it turns out, Peeta did inherit Haidon's physicality. He just also happened to be a late bloomer. Like his mother, I imagine, staring at her tiny frame in the picture.

The change in Peeta's form occurred so gradually I barely even noticed until a couple months ago, when I woke up with my head against his heart and abruptly realized just how broad he had become. Until I couldn't even reach to kiss his jaw on my tip toe. Until he started laughing at me and had to lift me up in order to properly embrace the way I like.

"Katniss?" I hear Delly beckon, trying to bring me back to reality. Trying and failing, that is. I hear her but only in a vague, distant sense. My mind is still stuck on the image in my grasp. Still stuck on the novelty that I managed to find a remembrance for the boy who still at times questions if his memory is full of lies.

"I still cry about my family and somedays I can't even remember their faces."

I never even considered the possibility of finding a token of Peeta's departed family here. It never occurred to me, the potential finds in this box at my fingertips, that I could take home to my boyfriend. I never imagined finding him something to hold onto when the inevitable dark day came again like a storm cloud, full of thunder.

I'm so entranced what this could mean for Peeta, so lost in my own little world, that I'm barely even hanging onto the ladder. I'm definitely not as steady as I should be, standing near the top rung.

And I'm definitely not steady enough to hang on when Delly gives it a rough shake, trying to catch my attention.

/

The boxes break my fall. Sort of. Kanon and Leaf John had taken the liberty of placing the empty cardboard, already looked through and emptied, beneath the ladder.

Falling headfirst into a large, void box is better than falling plainly onto the filthy, concrete tile floor. But not ideal. Not as helpful as falling into a box of surviving clothes or toys would have been.

Delly apologized profusely for shaking the ladder. She'd even begun to cry when she noticed the blood seeping from my forehead.

Thankfully Kanon was there, as I didn't have the energy to console her much. I don't even know how I managed to cut my head at all, but it stung a fair amount and it provided me the excuse I wanted minutes prior, to escape the group project and head for the bakery.

Even after the fall, my mind still was cemented on the newfound treasure. My first instinct was still to show this memento to Peeta as soon as possible.

Kanon though, like a good friend, insisted on walking me home, despite my many protests that it was unnecessary, that I was just fine, that I could walk home blind if I had to. He insisted, foiling my intention to walk directly to the bakery and not wait for Peeta's return home, which still remained hours away.

Kanon was surprisingly stubborn when he felt strongly about something and I chose to relent, to give in and allow him to accompany me back to what used to be Victor's Village—where he now resided with Delly, inside Peeta's old home—without much fight.

Fighting for your independence and autonomy doesn't exactly present you as rational when there's a bloody gash in your forehead.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Kanon asks as we make out way up my porch.

I look up, maybe a little startled, from Mr. and Mrs. Mellark's wedding photo. "My head?"

"Yeah," he says carefully, looking at the blood like it's a mutt in an arena.

I shrug, doing my best not to indicate how dizzy I actually feel. Either from the fall or the blood still dripping out despite my attempt to plug the wound up with old cotton rags someone sorted into the trash box. "I've had worse."

He chuckles, a little sardonically. "Yeah, so have I."

I thank him for walking me home—for it was as inconvenient as it was sweet—and close the door slowly behind me, before leaning my ear against the wooden frame, waiting. Waiting for him to climb the steps down from my porch and make his way back to the Justice Building. Waiting for him to be far enough out of sight that I can sneak back out without him also trying to accompany me to the bakery.

It's not that I don't appreciate Kanon and Delly and all of my other friends' concerns. It's the fact that I wish to bestow a likely loaded item upon my boyfriend and I really don't need an audience to do it.

It's not the easiest feat, to slyly time it so Kanon won't hear me opening and shutting my front door again. And it's probably not my smartest plan, to walk alone along the rocky cobblestones and the uneven concrete, with a less than level head and body.

But I make it to the back door of the bakery still, just as I knew I would. It takes three times as long, but I make it there nonetheless.

Still clutching the photograph of his parents between my fingers too. Still with the same primary focus on my mind. To give him a token of remembrance, a token of the imperfect family he lost so tragically, that he still greatly missed, even when he can't say their names. Even when he can't conjure up their faces.

"You don't remember your family?"

"Sometimes I do... I'm not so sure other days. My memory isn't exactly top notch, if you know what I mean."

I push open the heavy-weighted back door, using all the energy my body can muster up. To my relief, Thom is already in the back room, sweeping flour off the floor.

"Hi, boss," he greets slyly as I walk in, barely glancing up at me. I shoot him an over-the-top eye roll, though I can't help smirking myself at the stupid nickname, when he beckons Peeta. "Hey, your girl is here!" He yells loudly. Too loudly to be packed with customers at the counter.

I take that to mean the daily rush has come and gone. Which would be very convenient, as it means I can present Peeta with my finding that much faster, without having to worry about his business—or our business, as he teasingly calls it—being held up.

I hear the sound of my boyfriend's quiet laughter from the front. The sound that I akin to my father's singing or my sister's squeal of delight. The last sound still alive that can make my heart do a flip.

But it dies out the second he peaks his blonde head into the back room. The moment his baby blues, the same color as both his parents', meet my silver ones and then trail upwards.

Almost as if remembering the gash in my head, I reach to my forehead, to ensure the makeshift cloth bandage is still in place.

"Katniss?" Peeta says, his eyes looking far more nervous than I anticipated. Which I can only take to mean the red liquid has seeped through the plain fabric. "Is that blood?"

I don't want him to focus too heavily on that fact though. Like I told Kanon, I've had much worse injuries in my life. Me and Peeta both have.

Just look at his prosthetic leg.

"Yes," I reply easily, before moving closer to him, pushing the glossy photograph towards him. "But that doesn't matter right now. What does matter is-"

"You are literally bleeding."

I sigh, feeling slightly perturbed now. "Peeta, look," I insist, thrusting the image of his parents towards him, waiting for it to take anchor.

And it does. It takes a beat longer than I expect, but it happens nonetheless. I watch silently as the image captives him, as the shiny photograph takes him back to a time when this exact location was the only home he'd ever known and this business was run by the two people inside the picture.

He touches the photo, as if to test it's realism, before looking up at me in disbelief. "Where did you find this?"

"The Justice Building today. Inside the boxes, with all the things lost in the bombing."

There's a long pause as Peeta process this. The silence makes me antsy, finding myself abruptly uncertain of what could be going through his mind.

Finally, he whispers softly, "I never thought I'd see this picture again."

And the awed, tender smile that spreads across his face swiftly encompasses me in its warmth.

And I suddenly don't even feel the gash in my head anymore.

/

Read The Rest On AO3

[twh-news]

Loki’s production designer on the Modernist inspiration behind the show’s stunning visuals | The Art Newspaper

By Helen Stoilas

Kasra Farahani explains why the Time Variance Authority waiting room looks so much like the Breuer building, and how the inside of a Fabergé egg became an alien train carriage.

Fans of Modernist design can find a lot to appreciate in Loki, the television series starring Tom Hiddleston recently released by Marvel Studios on the streaming channel Disney+. The stunning production is clearly influenced by Brutalist and Neo-Futurist architecture, as well as Soviet Socialist art and sculpture. Visual references can be seen from the very first episode, in which the magic-wielding god of mischief is apprehended by a universe-spanning police force known as the Time Variance Authority for “crimes against the Sacred Timeline” (stay with us).

One early scene, for example, was filmed on a custom-built set that bears a striking resemblance to the lobby of the Marcel Breuer building in New York which once housed the Whitney Museum—and now houses the Frick—while another was shot on location in the Neo-Futurist Atlanta Marriott Marquis hotel, designed by the architect John C. Portman, Jr (with some monumental statues later edited into the soaring atrium). The Art Newspaper spoke to the series’ production designer, Kasra Farahani, about his inspirations for the look of the show.

The Art Newspaper: Loki's director, Kate Herron has called this series a love letter to sci-fi and you see a lot of visual homages to films like Brazil, A Clockwork Orange and Blade Runner. But there's also a clear influence of Modernist design on the look of the series overall. You studied industrial design early in your career. Were there specific examples of Modernist architecture and design that you were looking at when you started working on the series?

Kasra Farahani: So many, everyone from Frank Lloyd Wright to Breuer, to Mies van der Rohe to Paul Rudolph—you have a shot in the John Portman building—to Oscar Niemeyer. And then a lot of Eastern European, Soviet-influenced Modernism played a big part in it as well. I can honestly tell you that my first and foremost inspiration was Modernism. Part of that is because the TVA (Time Variance Authority) is a bureaucracy and I think, archetypically, so much of what we know a bureaucracy to be is that post-war, highly funded institutional look. And there's a lot of different versions of that, whether it's the Washington, DC version, like the Hoover building, or whether it's what we had in Los Angeles, where I grew up, where there's a huge amount of post-war architecture built for the population boom. Like the elementary school, middle school and high school that I went to were all mid-century Modernist.

I was also looking a lot at Brutalism and the Modernism in former Soviet states, that are heavily influenced by Socialism and Soviet architecture, and where scale is such a big driving force of the design.

The size of some of the buildings in the show are kind of overwhelming. I know that some filming was done in the Atlanta Marriott Marquis, with that huge soaring atrium. You just completely get dwarfed by that kind of architecture.

Yeah, that's right. That one we used for the TVA archives because we couldn't justify building a big set, but once I scouted it, I saw that we could bring in these massive Time-Keeper sculptures at the scale you would typically only see in an exterior, which is a fantastical thing. The TVA sets themselves, which were almost entirely full 360-degree sets, were very much designed as an intentional paradox between the stoic, large-scale Brutalism form language, and the surfacing and palette and whimsical patterning, which is very much taken from American mid-century Modern. Those two things create these spaces that feel at once super intimidating and then uncomfortably inviting and warm at the same time.

That’s kind of the irony of a lot of Modernism, Brutalism especially, it had these utopian ideals of creating affordable social housing, but then a lot of the people found it really oppressive to live in.

Yeah. Modernism has been that way the whole time—it was designed to be super cheap and utilitarian and routinely it ends up being the most expensive kind of architecture. Another thing readers may be curious to know about is the TBA expanse, which is essentially the view outside some windows.

That futuristic cityscape you can see….

Yeah. They had very strange and unique parameters to try to design that. The TVA exists outside of the physical world—so there's no weather, there's no roofs, there's no difference between interior and exterior, there's not necessarily even gravity in the way that we know it. But there are these meandering colonnades that we took a lot of inspiration from Brasilia—and obviously a lot of the super cities that were drawn in comics. But also there's some really beautiful conceptual sketches that Frank Lloyd Wright did of a version Los Angeles in the early 20th century that had Roman-like colonnades and plazas and a lot of that fed into what the TVA expanse is.

You mentioned all the sets you built for Loki, especially for the TVA. There's two that where used a lot. The Time Theater, where so much of kind of Loki’s personal story gets told, and looks like its straight out of the Barbican in London, with these huge colour-coded directional numbers on the walls. And then there's the Miss Minutes waiting room with those circular lights that looks almost exactly like the lobby of the Breuer building in New York—to the point where I reached out to the museum to ask if you’d filmed there. You even got the silver-tipped light bulbs right.

We were very inspired by that, but it's different in some very subtle, but for me, very important ways. Number one, the size of the bulbs is much smaller, they were manipulated to create eyeballs, basically. Another important difference is that in the Breuer building, they have these dishes hanging in space, whereas in ours, they're negative space, there's a solid ceiling. It creates a matrix of eyeballs peering down, like the always-watching Time-Keepers. And maybe the most important difference is that the ceiling is slammed down—you know the cheapest apartment you can go into has an eight-foot ceiling, this is six inches shorter than that, and our actor is about six-foot-three. The idea was to create a sort of trash compactor feeling in this claustrophobic space with this matrix of eyes, watching as all of this is happening.

The time theater was for me very inspired by Pier Luigi Nervi.

I liked that waffle coffered ceiling you have in that room.

Thanks. We were very happy with it, and it created this kind of forest of light columns which helps set the neo-noirish, interrogative nature of the space. And the unnecessarily large super graphics that you mentioned are a very Paul Rudolph sort of a thing, he did that in his building too, and I love that.

For me, it’s very important not to reference a set design from other films, that why I reference architecture, painting, photography, these other art forms, more than anything else, because inevitably when you’re working in archetypes, there’s a lot of overlap.

And as Loki goes into different times and locations, you get a completely different design environment in those places. There’s a scene on a train car, that has a very Art Deco look.

That was inspired by the inside of a Fabergé egg, Art Deco meets Alien.

And when you finally meet the Time-Keepers in the most recent episode, it’s like they're in a pre-Colombian pyramid or a ziggurat.

I was looking at Indian stepwells, this almost fractal quality with these descending stairs going into one another—but we imagined them going out every direction, with an Escher-like quality, like they are tessellating themselves to infinity.

I read on Twitter that you literally bought a bowling alley from Omaha and brought it to Atlanta to create Loki's Palace in the Void in the last episode, which is this crazy, surreal, amusement park, junk yard-like place.

We bought the floor of a bowling alley, everything else we built. That was a lot of fun because the script gave us a lot of runway. The proposal was to do this bowling alley because essentially everything in the Void has been discarded from time, and more things fall into it and accumulate and so you end up with these strata. I liked the idea of like a bowling alley that's been smashed over your knee or something. The net effect is when you first enter, you have all these lane lines pointing down at this throne, which was supposed to be stolen from a mall Santa. And then there's these crazy alien plants that are growing through it that have taken parasitic hold of the place. In many ways, I think its a narrative microcosm of the Void itself, which is like a salad bar of these disparate aberrations slammed together. Things like the bowling alley all have these micro-narratives that we in the art department have come up with to help flush out the design and make them specific. For example, there's portraits on the wall of like bowler of the month, and they’re not quite human. It's not in the episode, but those things are important for us in the art department.

At the very end of the most recent episode, we get a glimpse into this city that Loki and Sylvie (played by Sophia Di Martino) are walking into. Can tell us anything about what inspired those scenes, what we're about to see?

You can call me back in a week. All I can say is that the TVA is definitely the visual and narrative anchor of the story, but there's a lot of great worlds to see. And I think what people are responding to is the breadth of the visual variety of the show. And episode six won't be any different. It's really cool, and maybe some of my favorite stuff.

[poopunderstander]

i am probably the 5000th person to write Dean teaching Cas to drive but i did it anyway and i'm here to make it your problem

"Cas, who is living after death in the body of a man so devout he offered his whole self to the possession of God’s soldier, knows that the machine he’s sitting in is a part of the strange, ardent little faith Dean practices, a religion with three apostles, a virgin, and no god. Sitting here with Dean’s hand on his own, sweating and shaking at the helm of this unholy ark, he feels blasphemous."

2.4k words, destiel, PG/teen&up, no warnings except for a lot of geology talk at the start

link on ao3

Approximately 550 million years before what Castiel currently knows as the present day, two enormous sheets of earth collided in a dying ocean. The continent of Laurentia met with an arc of volcanic islands, and, finding itself unequal to their fury, folded downward beneath the sapping crust of the Iapetus Ocean. Over millennia, as Heaven watched, the earth and water consumed each other, leaving a thick scar of mountains, to be worn away in turn by new millennia of wind and ice and fire.

That was the Age of Fishes. Later, much later, humans climbed into the valleys in between the hills, to fish and hunt and build, and when they buried their dead they painted the graves with red earth, infinitesimal new scars over the old tectonic suture.

Castiel remembers all this—can feel it in the ground under his vessel’s feet, here in what Dean Winchester calls central Maine. They’re standing on glacial till deposited in the last ice age, and below them are the grains of sand from the Iapetus Ocean that became mudstone and siltstone, then pelite and shale and Silurodevonian granite. Twenty-five miles beneath Castiel lies a layer of Precambrian gneiss, a sheet of ancient dust pressed into solid stone nearly four billion years ago, when the ocean was wide and God himself wasn’t that old. That stone, Castiel knows, is Earth’s oldest shield: the last solid barrier between humanity and the planet’s molten core. He thinks about this as he watches Dean load guns into the trunk of his car, his boots planted in soft red earth carried here 10,000 years ago by a river of ice.

“Ready?” Dean says, turning back to face Cas.

Castiel thinks about the God who watched the continents form, who watched the planet eat itself a thousand times and heal a thousand more, the God who Castiel knows once wasn’t dead. He looks at Dean, who knows none of this and came with him anyway to trap an archangel on earth, and thinks: How could I be?

“Yes,” he says.

<>

“Wait,” Dean says. “Let me get this right. You can fly, right—you can teleport—but you can’t drive a car?”

They’re sitting in the empty parking lot of an ice cream shop, across the road from St. Peter’s Hospital. Dean drove them here after they left the house of prostitution, to wait for the sun to rise and the meeting with Raphael to “go down.” Castiel, still caught up in the pangs of regret and panic he brought away from the bar, has spent his last hours on earth contemplating the profound and mundane limits of his earthly knowledge.

“I thought she would appreciate the information,” he told Dean, trying to create in words a world in which he didn’t ruin Dean’s terrifying act of kindness, and Dean laughed and said, “Oh, dude, big mistake.”

“I don’t think I understand women,” Castiel said then, and Dean threw back his head and laughed, and Castiel felt a portion of the darkness inside him evaporate.

Dean started quizzing him after that, asking about things he’s done, talking about something he calls a “bucket list.” Castiel doesn’t know what the bucket is for, but Dean’s apparently contains people and places and food: a musician named Springsteen in Concert, the Chevrolet Hall of Fame in Decatur, the 1,800 pound burger at Mallie’s Sports. He asks Castiel if he’s ever been to the Grand Canyon, and Castiel tells him he witnessed its creation. Dean says okay, but did you ever hike it, and Castiel has to shake his head.

It’s in this way that Dean learns that Castiel has never driven a car—a fact which Cas thinks shouldn’t surprise him, but it does. They’re sitting on the hood of the car together, gazing out across Highwood Avenue at the glowing windows of the hospital, and Dean twists his whole body around to face Cas, telegraphing his shock.

“Why would I,” Cas points out. “I’ve never had the need.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, “but—dude, what if somebody, like, zaps your wings? What’re you gonna do, huh, take a bus?”

Cas shrugs. “Probably. I think it’s far more likely that Raphael will kill me outright.”

He sees a flicker of pain cross Dean’s face; this conversation made him uncomfortable before. Castiel wonders about that. “I’m not talking about that,” he says. “I just meant—hypothetically. In a hypothetical world where you get your angel mojo un-mojoed, or whatever, you’d just—buy a bus ticket?”

Castiel isn’t sure what he’s admitting to, here. He thought bus travel was common. “I suppose.”

“Jesus,” Dean says, turning back to face the hospital. “That’s just wrong.”

They’re silent for a moment, spinning in their own private worlds. The lights are off inside the ice cream shop—it’s nearly dawn, and nobody buys ice cream at dawn—but the lamps above the Dairy Queen sign are blazing, and Castiel is watching the yellow light flow over Dean’s head and shoulders as he leans back on the hood of his car, still warm from the engine’s labor. Even now, looking at Dean’s body is like looking at a miracle. Castiel wonders if he’s aware that he’s the only thing in Waterville, Maine born entirely of God’s will.

“Listen,” Dean says suddenly, breaking the silence. “I don’t know what it’s gonna be like in there. I know you said—well, I know what you said. But I think,” he says, puffing up with that bizarre confidence he always seems to pull from nowhere, “I think we’re gonna make it. And if I’m right, if we do—” He turns to look at Cas again, a grin dawning across his face. “If we do, I’m gonna teach an angel of the lord to drive stick.”

Castiel has no idea why—he’s not quite sure what those words in that order mean—but this thought seems to give Dean hope. Castiel doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t have a human soul, that thing that seems to trap hope so unfailingly it feels like a flaw in the design.

The sun is feet from the eastern horizon.

“Okay,” he tells Dean.

<>

Twenty-five miles north of Waterville is a town called Canaan. When colonists first settled on the banks of the Kennebec, they used the native word for the place they built: Wesserunsett. Not long after, though, deciding that that long name was not worth the labor of speaking or writing it, they looked at the bright green fields laid all around their stolen home, imagined a similarly verdant place of rest waiting for them at life’s end, and named the new town after the Promised Land.

Canaan, of course, looks nothing like Heaven, really. Heaven is vast and multidimensional; Canaan is a ten-room motel, two grocery stores, and two churches along the length of US Highway 2. But outside Canaan, between the highway and the lake, is a wide field of grass and purple violets, which Dean pronounces “perfect.” He pulls off the road into the field, and Castiel feels the solid, assuring weight of asphalt give way to the uncertainty of earth.

“Okay,” Dean says. He gets out of the car, and motions for Castiel to do the same. Cas does, turning cautiously to scan the field around them.

“There’s no road here,” he points out. He’s never tried it before, but he always assumed that a road was essential to driving.

“That’s the point,” Dean says. “You can’t start on the road, you’re gonna get yourself killed. Gotta start where there’s nothing to run into.” He gestures at the expanse around them. “Like so. That’s how my dad taught me.”

Dean doesn’t talk about his father. Castiel has noticed. He’s never seen John Winchester; tries to imagine Dean as a child, standing in a field like this with the man who withstood one hundred years of Hell. He can’t picture it. But then, imagination has never come easily to him.

“Come on,” Dean says, waving a hand for Cas to come around the car. Castiel obeys, walking around to the open driver’s seat as Dean circles to where Cas just was. They both sit down inside, pulling the doors shut, and Dean says, “Okay. So. Let’s start at the beginning.”

He talks Cas through the controls of the car, laying his hand on the dashboard as he talks, identifying the levers and pedals and dials with gentle, nearly reverent touches, watching Castiel’s face to make sure that he’s taking it all in. Castiel tries to concentrate, thinks he understands what he’s being told, but he has no place to anchor this information. That’s the clutch, Dean says, and Castiel nods and thinks, clutch, and thinks about gripping Dean tight. The clutch.

“You got it?” Dean asks. Castiel doesn’t feel he has anything.

“Of course.”

Dean beams. Cas can’t find it in himself to regret the lie.

“Go ahead and put your hands on the wheel,” Dean says. This turns out to be more complicated than Castiel anticipated. He does it wrong, apparently, the first time, because Dean frowns and says, “No, you gotta—ten o’clock and two o’clock, Cas,” and when Cas asks what that means Dean says to picture a clock, and Castiel doesn’t see what relevance that has to driving a car. In the end, Dean takes Castiel’s hands in both of his, and puts them onto the steering wheel in the right position. He sits back in satisfaction, nodding.

“Okay. Okay.” Castiel’s heart is pounding like a hummingbird’s. It’s not the same fear he felt last night. He doesn’t know what it is. Dean tells him where to put his feet, says okay, clutch first, keep it in neutral, and Cas pushes down with what was once Jimmy Novak’s left foot and then his right, feels the engine rumble to life, and lets go when Dean says okay, now.

He breaks the car. Or, that’s what it feels like at first: a heavy, surely cataclysmic crash of machinery that throws both of them back against the seat. He sees Dean grimace and gets ready to apologize, but Dean just says, “Okay, kind of rough start, but that’s fine—try it again.”

“I’m not sure I should,” Cas says. It sounded like the engine cracked. He thinks Dean may have underestimated his ignorance here. But Dean says no, try again, so Cas puts his feet back on the pedals and focuses every particle of his celestial consciousness on easing the pressure on and off in perfect unison the way Dean tells him, hands rigid at ten and two on the clock-wheel, and the four thousand pounds of steel beneath them roll approximately ten inches over the grass before Castiel’s focus falters, and the engine grinds to another explosive, neck-wrenching halt.

“You suck at this,” Dean says. His patience as an instructor, apparently, has been exhausted.

“Of course I suck at this,” Cas says, hearing the panic in his own voice. “I’m an angel.”

He expects the lesson to be over then—clearly, he isn’t going to learn this—but Dean just chuckles instead, caught up in another burst of unearned optimism, and says, “Try it again, little slower this time.”

For half an hour, Cas jolts the car in short, violent circles around the field, struggling to follow Dean’s directions and feeling sweat build up on his palms and the back of his shirt. The longest he’s able to drive in one smooth line lasts about one minute and forty-five seconds, long enough for Dean to lose his look of consternation and break out in a grin, raising his hands in celebration just as Cas accidentally pushes down on the wrong pedal and sends them screeching to a halt.

“Hey,” Dean says, once he’s recovered from the physical shock, “at least you’re getting better.”

“I’m not,” Cas tells him. He can feel an odd, nauseous constriction at the back of his throat; he wonders if it’s possible for a being that doesn’t eat or digest to vomit. “I’m not good at this, Dean. I won’t be good at this.”

“Listen,” Dean says, “if Sam could learn, so can you.”

“Sam’s very intelligent.”

“And you’re not?”

“Sam’s human.”

“Since when does that matter?” Dean asks.

Cas stares at him. Of course it matters. It’s always mattered. “I don’t know how,” he says. His hands are shaking.

“Hey,” Dean says, “hey.” He reaches over and lays his hand over Castiel’s, still on the steering wheel. His skin is warm and callused. Castiel feels the blood vessels in his cheeks and neck dilating.

“I’m sorry,” he tells Dean. He knows, without quite understanding, that what they’re doing is important to Dean, somehow, and he’s fucked it up. He did the same last night, with the woman whose name wasn’t Chastity, whose father loved her in the same unknowable way that Dean’s father loved him. He didn’t want to do it again. Cas, who is living after death in the body of a man so devout he offered his whole self to the possession of God’s soldier, knows that the machine he’s sitting in is a part of the strange, ardent little faith Dean practices, a religion with three apostles, a virgin, and no god. Sitting here with Dean’s hand on his own, sweating and shaking at the helm of this unholy ark, he feels blasphemous.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“You can do this, Cas,” Dean says. “Look, I get you’re, like, superpowered, or whatever, I know you don’t need to. But did you ever think—maybe it’s just been a really long time since you learned something new?” He pauses, frowning, searching for the right words. “I don’t care if you can’t drive, man,” he says finally. “But I know you can learn. Right? I believe in you, Cas.”

Twelve hours ago, Dean stood side by side with Cas in the light of Raphael’s wings and heard him say that God died centuries ago. Dean heard it, and told Cas to go looking anyway.

Cas looks at him, at the freckles scattered over his nose, the serious little pinch between his brows, the soft ghost of a smile on his face even though Cas has surely damaged his car by now, even though God is dead and his neck must hurt and Sam’s taking a vacation from being Dean’s brother, the other half of his world. Dean looks back at him, raises his eyebrows, and grins.

“One more time?”

[obxlife]

Slipping In (JJ x Fem!Reader) PT.2

A/N: Okay so apparently pt. 1 did really good so here is part two

Pairing: JJ x Fem!Reader

Summary: After John B reveals that he knows where the gold is, he makes JJ and you slip into Midsummers to round up the Pogues and give Sarah a note. 

PART 1

SLIPPING IN PT. 2

John B tugged the Pogue onto the beach that was surrounding the country club as you and JJ pushed it from behind. You grabbed your bags and shoes from inside the boat before turning to the boys.

“Ready?” you asked them as you began walking up the beach. 

Your backpack held the dress you were going to be wearing to slip into the party. It had been a hassle retrieving it from your house, as you had to steal it from your mom’s closet while she was passed out three feet away from you on her bed. 

It was the only dress you had ever seen her wear, and the only dress that had ever been in your house. God knew you didn’t have money to buy an actual dress for yourself. 

In John B’s backpack, there were clothes for JJ. A button-up collared dress shirt, a bowtie, and a waiter’s jacket. 

“Can you believe this Midsummer shit, guys?” John B asked as he looked up towards the lights and flowers that were hanging from the decorations on the country club’s garden. 

“Of course I can,” replied JJ, shrugging his shoulders. “Happens every year. No matter how screwed up the rest of us are.”

You frowned and then asked, “So, like, what’s the plan, exactly?”

John B pulled something out from his pocket. A piece of paper. “Okay, look,” he said to JJ. “I need you to get this to Sarah.”

Your eyebrows shot up at this. Sarah? Sarah Cameron? That was new.

“ And you, Y/N, need to keep an eye on him,” John B stated pointing at the blond boy on this other side.  This made you laugh.

“Ooh! Can I read it?” JJ asked taking the paper from John B’s hand and ignoring the fact that you thought it was funny to babysit him.

“JJ, that is an invasion of privacy!” you exclaimed as he opened the letter.

“No, you can’t read it,” John B tried to say before JJ had taken a look at the message.

“Who’s Vlad?” JJ said once he had scanned the note. 

“God, do you ever listen?” you asked as the three of you kept strutting up the beach. 

“Hold up,” JJ says, “Are you macking Sarah Cameron?”

You stifled a laugh before saying, “I was actually about to ask the same thing.”

Both you and JJ turned towards the long-haired boy, waiting for his response. 

“Would you guys shut up?” John B nearly shouted in an exasperated tone. 

“Oh my God.” you said as JJ confirmed what you were both thinking, “You’re macking Sarah Cameron!”

“Oh, Kie is not going to be happy with you, bubba,” you pointed out to the brunett.

“All right, guys. I’m doing it for everybody, all right?”

You and JJ shared a look before you quietly muttered, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

At this JJ laughed before turning towards his best friend again. 

“What?” John B said while looking back at the both of you. You shook your head along with the blond, as John B kept looking at both of you, expecting you guys to say something. 

“Nothing,” you said.

“Yeah, thanks for being a team player, bro,” JJ agreed.

Now that you three were closer to the country club you all stopped and dropped your bags, taking out the clothes you would be needing. 

“Turn around,” you ordered to the boys as you began to try and slip on your mother’s dress. 

The boys followed your orders, JJ pulling on his shirt while John B reached forward and tied the bow tie around his neck. 

“So, I just give that to Sarah, huh?” you heard as you took off your shirt and passed the dress over your head. Once it was on, you removed your shorts from underneath the skirt. 

As you smoothed the skirt down and took your heels out of you bag, you heard John B confirm JJ’s doubts. “Yes, just give it to Sarah. Hold steady.”

Placing both of your heels on, you looked down at yourself. My bikini top makes the dress look weird. You swiftly took it off from under the dress and threw it on the ground. 

Both boys caught sight of your top and gulped. 

You didn’t know this, but the boys had found you hot ever since you started growing your boobs out in the seventh grade. Both of them had a thing for you, and given the chance, they would, without a doubt, take the chance to mack on you. 

But rules were rules, and no Pogue on Pogue macking was allowed. This rule was essential to maintain your friendship. 

JJ especially hated that rule. All he had wanted to do since he had noticed that he had feelings for you (as in more than a friendly way) was mack on you. The thought of you kept him up through many lonely nights where he only had his hand to keep him company, and the many nights he would hook up with Tourons to get you out of his head. 

However, he knew that he would never have it in himself to actually come between the bond that the three of you had. The original Pogues. His family. That was a lot more important than macking on you and potentially risk losing his family. Besides, he knew almost for certain that you were not interested in him. 

This did not stop JJ from flirting with you. He flirted with everyone, as that was just his personality, but he flirted with you especially. Kie had noticed this but ignored it due to the fact that she assumed it was part of your special ‘original three Pogues’ bond. You had always denied any advances he had made towards you, as you just classified them as harmless flirting, and JJ knew that not taking his flirting further was the right thing to do because of the rule.

So, for now, JJ was happy imagining on those long nights that he was accompanied by his hand or imagining that the Touron that was blowing him was actually you. 

“Vlad,” JJ suddenly said to keep his thoughts from wandering away with your discarded bikini top. “Really?”

You turned around. “I’m done.”

However, before the boys could turn to look at you, John B pulled out JJ’s gun from the blond’s backpack. “Are you kidding me?”

“JJ!” you exclaimed in shock. “What the hell?”

“No, I’m not kidding you,” he began to explain as he adjusted his collar. Before he could continue, John B said, “If you get caught, you’re going to jail.”

You scoffed. As if JJ was afraid of going to jail. You knew JJ was more afraid of his dad pulling him out of jail.

“Fine,” JJ said, keeping his eyes at level with John B’s as he threw his hat on the ground for the second time that day. “But if I get ambushed, it’s on you.”

“Don't worry, Y/N’s gonna be there.”

You laughed along with JJ as he said, “Yeah, that makes me feel so much better.”

John B sighed as both the boys turned towards you. “Just make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

But JJ wasn’t listening to the conversation going on around him anymore. His eyes were traveling up your body in that dress. He had never seen you look so good. The heels made your legs look impossibly long, and the short skirt of your dress was revealing just how long they looked. Your chest looked amazing, and JJ tried to tear his eyes away but he just couldn’t. The color of the fabric complimented you in every single way possible: your eyes, your hair, your skin. 

However, he thought you looked weird too. It wasn’t at all like you to wear heels and dresses. JJ knew you really couldn’t afford that. What you could afford was thrifted t-shirts, old cut-off jean shorts, and beaten-up vans. 

Clearing his throat, JJ pulled the waiter’s jacket on as you and John B kept on speaking about the plan. JJ buttoned up the jacket before shoving his hands down his pants and tried to arrange the problem that arose when he had looked over at you. 

Trying to calm himself down he thought of his dad. The problem was solved. For now. 

“Okay. Sneak in. Letter to Sarah. Get the rest of the Pogues. Sneak out,” you repeated one last time. “Ready, JJ?”

The blond turned towards you and you felt your throat constrict. Hot damn. JJ looked amazing, and you were surprised you had never really noticed how beautiful he really was. His blond hair fell onto his face, and his clothes clung onto his muscles. Sure, you knew his muscles were amazing and you had witnessed countless girls drooling over them, but you had never imagined what it would feel like to run your fingers - or your tongue - down them.

Shaking your head you looked up to both of the boys who had confused expressions plastered on. 

“You good?” you heard John B ask you. 

You nodded your head and cleared your throat. “Yeah, yeah.”

JJ stepped towards you and smirked. “I know you think I look good,” he said in his usual flirty tone. “But now is not the time. Let’s go!”

With that, you walked towards the country club. 

JJ grabbed a tray that was discarded on a table halfway down the beach and placed two glasses on top of it. You continued walking. 

At the stairs of the country club, you encountered a guard. As confident as you could, you strutted past him while JJ complained to him about finding glasses on the sand. The guard gave you both a suspicious look, before turning away. You sighed in relief.

As you both went further into the party you grabbed onto JJ’s arm and pushed him aside. You grabbed the tray out of his hands and sloppily left it on top of an empty table. 

“C’mon.”

You began searching for the Pogues together, trying to find them to tell them the news John B had told you earlier on the marsh. 

“Where are they?” JJ whispered into your ear. This sent a shiver down your spine. Just as you noticed Kie standing a couple feet away, you felt JJ being tugged back and out of your arms. A noise of protest left your mouth before you turned around and saw Pope dragging him away. 

“Pope!” you called out, walking towards him. You stumbled a little on your heels, but when you reached them you saw both of them hugging. 

“Woah, unexpected PDA there, Dr. Spock.”

You stiffled out a laugh as you rubbed Pope’s back up and down. JJ pushed away from the dark-skinned boy and gave him a kiss on his cheek before saying, “But, uh... hey, love you, too, man.”

This made you laugh out loud as Pope finally tuned to you and also gave you a hug. Then he turned towards JJ again and began speaking in a hurried tone.

“Dude, I’m sick over all this shit, man.”

“You’re sick? You don’t seem sick.” JJ asked confused. He pressed a hand up to Pope’s forehead, who simply swatted it away. You scoffed yet again because of the blond.

“No, JJ, he’s sick on the inside, you idiot.”

“Right. Well, I already knew that.”

Pope continued staring at JJ, before quickly turning to you, and then back to the other Pogue. He was going to ask about JJ’s injuries.

“Did Shoupe do that?”

“Oh, this?” JJ pointed at his cheek. “No. This is- It’s my dad. You know? Has that right jab. Can really snap it off at times.”

“That looks like more than a jab, JJ,” you said. Pope nodded in agreement. 

Shaking his head, JJ simply said, “It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before.”

No matter how nonchalantly JJ tried to seem, both you and Pope could see the pain in his eyes. However, you knew that bringing it up would cause more troubles than solve any, so you quickly moved on to the next subject. Pope did not seem to get the memo though. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you take the fall for all this. It’s my fault!”

You sighed, as JJ tried to assure him it was most definitely not his fault. 

“Pope...” you whispered softly. They kept on talking, ignoring you until JJ finally reached his hands up to Pope’s face. “Shut up, Pope. Shut up.”

You stared at them both, not knowing what JJ was going to say to calm Pope down. 

“For once in your life, trust someone else. John B, Y/N, and I have got it all sorted out.”

With this JJ removed his hands from Pope’s face, and the dark skinned boy turned to look at you with a questioning gaze. He turned back to JJ, who only said, “We’re gonna be filthy rich, man.”

Pope, still not understanding, kept his eyes on JJ. 

You leaned forward and whispered, “We’re back in the G-game, baby.”

Pope opened his eyes as wide as he could, showing exactly how shocked he was. “G-game? I thought we lost the gold game.”

“Yeah, well, we’re in overtime now.”

With that, JJ glanced down at you and quickly moved his eyes to the dance floor. You turned towards the dancing bodies and noticed Sarah Cameron dancing there with her friend, Scarlett. 

“We’ll be right back,” the blond said before grabbing your arm and walking in the direction of the Kook princess. You felt tingles on your forearm. Right where JJ’s hand was placed. 

Pope made confused noises as you turned away, and giving him one final look, you said, “We’ll explain - We’ll explain later.”

Turning towards the task at hand, you tried to slip in through the dancing people as JJ took a more direct approach. 

“Are you kidding me?” you muttered. How was that not supposed to gain attention?

You kept dancing as you watched JJ flounce around Sarah, while she just had a confused look in her eyes. She probably thought, What is JJ doing here at a Kook party? It was well known that JJ was the ultimate hater of Kooks. 

As you got closer to them, JJ caught your eye. You heard him talk to Sarah, and then you were finally right next to him. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Sarah greeted before turning around and opening the letter. You tugged JJ’s arm to leave, as the first part of the plan was already completed. Your thoughts of retrieving the other Pogues and escaping the party unscathed escaped your mind when Rafe and Kelce came into view. You groaned out loud. 

Rafe ignored you and grabbed onto JJ’s shoulders. “I’m wondering if you could get me a mai tai, my friend.”

You were fuming. You hated how Rafe always approached JJ with at least one more person and how he was always looking for a fight. 

“Leave us alone, Rafe.”

The blond Kook turned towards you, eyes raking up your figure. Even though he hated to admit it, Rafe had the hots for you and for Kie. The reason he absolutely hated that was because you were both Pogues. 

“You look pretty hot tonight, Y/N. Mind coming home with me so that I can show you how much better the Kook life is?”

Your face burned red with anger and you noticed JJ lurch forward towards Rafe, but Kelce pushed him back. Before your best friend could walk up to Rafe again, you tugged his forearm harshly and whispered, “Not worth it. Remember the plan.”

Trying to change the subject JJ began to speak about having to get drinks for other guests at the party, as he began backing away from the two Kooks. As you were still holding on to his forearm, he dragged you with him. 

Before turning to walk away from the situation, JJ says, “Help yourselves to the hors d’oeuvres.”

However, Rafe turned around and called on more of his goons. “Hey, guys, JJ is gonna serve us some hors d’oeuvers.”

You gasped as at least three more Kooks - that looked massive, by the way - joined Rafe and Kelce. 

“C’mon, Rafe, let’s not do this,” you tried to reason with him, but it went in one ear and out the other. 

“Shit,” you heard JJ mumble underneath his breath. He looked around at anything that could help him and you get out of this situation. Not seeing anything that could help he moved to grab your hand and said, “You know, we’ll be right back.”

With that he turned around and sprinted into the country club, dragging you along with him. 

A/N: I was trying to wrap up the story but I got carried away so... yeah there’s probably going to be a part 3. Oops. 

PART 3

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

Hi! I saw your tags (interpretation of the Cat "orgy") and I was wondering if you could elaborate on it? :D That bit confuses me SO much -- IS it a sexual thing? is it just cuddle time? Lmao I know that it's usually described kind of sensually (especially with Plato and Victoria), so in conclusion: ???????

Oh, excellent question, anon. And honestly, this one doesn’t really have a straight answer, I’m afraid. That conclusion of ?????? is pretty spot on.

The *official* title of that section of the ball is called “The White Cat Lift”, because the main area of focus while the rest of the cats pile in is Plato/Admetus/Tumblebrutus/Mistoffelees/Coricopat/Pouncival/Alonzo/etc etc etc lifting Victoria up in the air. It is not officially referred to as anything other than that (The part *just* before when Victoria and her beau of the week approach one another and sniff each other or nuzzle is called “Sensuals”, so it is absolutely “canonically” intended to be read on a more intimate level which is where you get that described sensuality you mentioned). 

Its purpose, unless it is highly sped through, is to give all of the dancers a break and a chance to breathe before launching back into the second half of the Jellicle Ball (when a number is 10 - 15 minutes long and at that level of intensity, you 100% require a break midway of some kind and lying down is better than even just standing still). That’s the long and short technical explanation for it. 

That being said, many people in the fandom (and outside the fandom as well - with a particular boom when the 2019 film came out), have jokingly (or not so jokingly) nicknamed it the “orgy” section of the ball, because it looks a little...well to be blunt, it looks a little bit like an orgy, complete with a pile of writhing bodies, and many performers actively feeling one another up/playing it up as sensual as possible. I would imagine that this sensuality is actively encouraged (and possibly semi-planned in the improve stage of cat school) during rehearsals. So fans (and audiences) took that idea and ran wild with it. 

There have been many a joke of Skimbleshanks being the “orgy supervisor” since he usually acts as the cat that Victoria is laid down upon rather than actively involving himself with the other cats (though he also lifted her during the OLC times and laid her down on his belly *himself* so that’s...something). There have been further jokes of the “WTF” nature of the interesting pairings you would get during this scene (ex. 1998 Film), before the revival kind of “regulated” them, per say. You’ll no doubt run into them (if you haven’t already).

I *believe* that it was Gillian Lynne (though don’t directly quote me - I recall this being said but I can’t quite remember by *who* - it could have also been one of the revival members or another past cast member) that made the implication that Victoria was in heat during this particular section,  (which is supported by the fact that her initial solo before “The Invitation to the Jellicle Ball” is her “discovering herself” - which is Gillian Lynne-ese for self-pleasure and hitting puberty) which explains why some of the cats (or I guess all of them) are more drawn towards her.

Is it a *sexual* thing? Well, I can’t say for certain if that’s the intended implication (but knowing Gillian Lynne it very well could have been). It is, however, an extremely “sensual” thing (as most of the choreo in CATS is), but the level of which that sensuality is taken will greatly vary from production to production. Some productions just stick to partner/group cuddling and touching, while others take steps father (rolling and hovering on top of one another, run hands along bodies, bumping and grinding, handstands, etc). I suppose we need to keep in mind that, because we are dealing with Gillian Lynne choreo, the implication of sensuality and sexuality is always there and she most likely choreographed that section with the encouragement for the performers to keep that in mind, too.

ALL OF THAT BEING SAID HOWEVER - 

I think the reason why I specifically (I can’t speak for anyone else; interpret at will) am somewhat uncomfortable with the implication that this is an orgy (joking about it is a bit different - I don’t really mind the jokes because it is rather *strange*), is that a couple of the characters included in this pile are referred to as “kittens” (especially if they include swings that had John Napier ref. sheets that *literally* said “kitten” on it).

I understand that the age thing can be interpreted different from person to person (and I *also* understand that the actual performers themselves are *usually* of age - though some performers have been 16/17 when they started so...),  but there is no denying that some characters of CATS are described, however briefly, as being part of the “kitten group”. So, keeping this in mind, if we *are* to read this scene as a straight up orgy, then that makes me incredibly uncomfortable, point blank. I really don’t need to elaborate why, I think. 

To me, personally, I prefer to interpret it as the following:

Touch is a big part of this whole musical, so I would assume that touch is also something incredibly valuable to the cats themselves. The concept of touching and being touched essentially connects them as a familial group (That’s why Grizabella was so desperate to be touched again - that would indicate that she’s been reaccepted). They use touch and the concept of scent mingling extensively in their society - to welcome cats, to tell them goodbye, to connect with them, to comfort them, to introduce kittens to their families, etc. It’s a way to bond. 

So in the case of the Jellicle Ball, the couple that takes center stage is what I would kind of deem as the “Belles of the Ball”, aka it’s a bit like an officiation of a mateship - similar to humans getting married (though some pairings in the show are rather...strange to me I won’t lie). When the rest of the cats gather together around them, families and couples and friends, touching and mixing their scents together, it’s their way of wishing the new couple luck in the future. It’s them becoming more familiar of what the “together” is rather than the singular. It’s to remind them of who they are, where they came from, and what they will be. It’s to comfort them if they’re nervous, to assure them that the rest of them are with them, no matter what happens. If previously established couples approach them together, it’s their way of ensuring longevity; perhaps if they come in closer with their own kittens, its a way to wish that they have healthy offspring should they desire it. All in all, it’s a good luck, we’re proud of you, and we’re all here for you cuddle session.  

Sappy, maybe, but I prefer the familial cuddle pile to anything else. 

[hb-writes]

Thank you for listening.

Inspired by my 101 lovely followers and  @love-me-a-good-prompt’s “THANK YOU IDEAS” prompt list.

Summary: SherlockBBC story (same universe as this one). A look at how Lucy Watson ended up living with her brother, John, and the famous Sherlock Holmes. 

Featuring: John Watson, Watson!Sister (Lucy)

-----

When John finally located his sister, the girl was settled comfortably on a bench, earbuds firmly in place. The music was clearly too loud coming through her headphones and she had a hardcover book placed open in her lap. 

John had no idea how many times he had warned the girl about being careful, especially with herself, and especially when in unfamiliar places. London was certainly not the same as the small, rural area where the Watson children had been raised, and his dear little sister would do well to pay better attention to her surroundings rather than tuning them out completely. John shook his head, mildly frustrated despite knowing that the girl was far beyond change at this point.

From a few feet away, John watched Lucy, noting the differences introduced since their last meeting. His sister was no longer a child, this observation evidenced by the subtle change in height and the way her face and choice of attire looked like more of that of a young woman than a young girl. Her lips were a shade or so darker than what he imagined them to be naturally. The waves of her hair fell longer now and she kept them loosely braided, falling over her left shoulder. A pair of brown, thick-framed glasses hung low on her nose as her head tilted down.

Lucy felt a presence beside her before she heard or saw anything and tried to glance up without being too obvious or inviting a conversation. She started at seeing that the presence sat beside her was her older brother, a knowing look settled upon his face.

She nearly shouted his name before grasping onto him, knocking the wind out of John a bit as she fastened herself around his chest. A breath of relief that John didn’t realize he had been holding escaped and he continued to hold his sister so long as she wished to be held, his hand gently cradling the head that had nestled up to the jumper under his jacket.

It had been a long while since they had last seen each other, far too long if John was being honest with himself. She had been his avid pen pal throughout his time away in the war, keeping him abreast of updates in her schooling and life with Harry, but nothing was as good as having the girl with him in person. Even if Lucy was only there on account of her own mischief, John was still happy to have her.

As he held her, John silently cursed himself. He should have gone to seen her the moment he returned to the country but seeing Lucy meant seeing Harry, and he simply hadn’t been ready to face that. He would at least need to speak to their sister now, what with their young ward running to him.

When Lucy finally pulled back, she wiped away some stray tears with the back of her hand. John ran a hand over her head, resting his hand on the back of her neck and kissing her forehead.

“That's enough. No more tears, sweetheart.”

Lucy smiled at the sentiment and leaned back against the bench. “I’ve missed you, John,” she said.

“And I’ve missed you,” he echoed.

“Well, that’s a relief as I’m certain that you’re quite angry regarding this whole thing and about to be unreasonably cross.”

“I don’t think it is by any means unreasonable should I choose to be cross with you,” John answered. He had pulled his little sister into his side and she rested her head against him. “Why are you here, sweetheart?” 

“I don’t want to stay with Harry any longer, especially not if Sara won’t be there and you’re staying here in London. Harry’s just downright insufferable and she doesn’t understand me. She is not a very adept parental figure, John. You never should have left me with her to begin with.”

“Now that will be enough of that,” he answered despite knowing that much of it was likely true.

“I just couldn’t stay there,” Lucy mumbled.

With Sara gone, their sister Harry had been different. She had been drinking more, angry and aggressive with her younger sister, and Lucy had had quite enough.

“And you thought the best way to alleviate the situation was to throw a tantrum, hopping on the next train to London by yourself?”

A blush crept into Lucy's cheeks. She had been away from the responsible childrearing of her brother for several years and had forgotten what his displeasure, even if only slight, felt like. Their sister was largely a ‘hands-off’ type of guardian, allowing Lucy to essentially do as she pleased, though as of late the two sisters had taken to considerable bickering and shouting matches. John, on the other hand, had never stood for the shouting or the arguments or the tantrums.

“She told me to get out of her sight, John,” Lucy defended. "I was only doing as I was told."

“And that was not alright for her to say though I’m sure you did something to provoke it.”

Lucy moved them along. She didn’t intend on getting into such details, at least not at the train station, not so soon after their reunion. Instead, she offered her big brother a troublesome little smile, the glint reaching her eyes.

“Well, you and Harry don’t ever talk anymore." She shrugged. "I had to get your attention somehow.”

“Good to know you are still a willful little terror.” he chided with a smile.

"I think that's a bit harsh, John."

“And I think you know of better ways I prefer for you to garner my attention,” John answered, eyebrows raised.

“I know, John. I do. And I’m terribly sorry, truly. You, sir, are looking at the very sorriest of little sisters. But please don’t be cross. I just missed you and I wanted to see you and it didn’t seem as though you had any intention of ever coming home to see me and I honestly believe if I hadn’t come here, you would be down a sister, though admittedly I am not sure which one of us you’d be missing.”

“This wasn’t about you, sweetheart. It has never been about you.”

“That’s what you both say, but I seem to be the one getting the continuous ‘shit-end’ of the stick.”

John raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” she muttered, though John didn't miss the eye roll. “Horrid, entirely unsuitable habit, I know. I just mean, well, you both tend to take your issues out on me, whether you intend to or not. I’m like a child of divorce now.”

“And I apologize it seems that way, but that’s no reason to go all stroppy and storm off without permission.”

“She knew precisely where I was going, John, and I called ahead to let you know that I was on my way.”

“Yes, you called to tell me to come collect you while you were already halfway along on your journey to London. By yourself. With. Out. Permission.” John punctuated his point by jabbing his sister in the shoulder with a finger after each word.

“Now who’s being the stroppy one?” she joked, nudging him.

“Well, it should go without saying that you, my dear sister, are confined to the flat until we sort this out. Grounded, actually.”

Lucy scrunched her face up. “What about playing tourist? I haven’t been to London in ages and I don’t get grounded anymore either,” she said.

“And how does our dear sister deal with your various indiscretions?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t. Not that I have many. I'm a very well behaved, John.”

John tried not to scoff. He was far from surprised that Harry didn’t discipline their younger sister. She supposed that if any of that went on in their household, it would have been her partner’s doing. Sara had always been the sensible one in that relationship.

“Well, I wouldn't think it wise for you to expect things to continue in that manner while you’re here. You’ve always required a healthy dose of structure. You’re not to go out on your own. If you behave, I’ll consider taking you out myself.”

“Hmph.”

“Don’t ‘hmph’, me, Lucille Evangeline Watson.”

“That name is so bloody pretentious, John Hamish Watson," she mocked, sharpening her tone.

John rolled his eyes. “What in the world am I going to do with you?”

Lucy shrugged. “Maybe give me a proper hug and take me for some lunch?”

John nodded and she stood up beside him. He took Lucy into his arms, feeling her relax in his hold before taking one of her bags and stepping off, leaving her to manage the backpack.

"Thank you, John."

"For what?" he asked.

"For listening before shouting," Lucy answered. "Harry shouts first and listens never."

John sighed, pulling his sister in to his side. "No sense in shouting if we haven’t a need."

--

Sherlock BBC Masterlist

[captaincvans]

Chapter Four: Skin to Bone

03/01/20

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 1667+

Warnings: Language; TW: Miscarriage

Series Masterpost

A/N: I apologize for the long wait for this chapter! I hope I do this story justice, and I hope you all enjoy the updates. If you have a kind word or two to spare, please drop by my Askbox- I really need it.

Y/N turned around at the door, seeing the hard face of her ex-boyfriend before he slammed the door at her face. She stumbled through the city, trying to numb her emotions and think about her next steps. She needed a place to stay, luckily it was still the holidays, and she had the next two days off. The first hotel she went to was booked up, and so was the second one, and the third one. She opted for a small motel in the quieter part of town, where it wouldn’t be bustling with tourists. She managed to get a single room with a king sized bed for a reasonable price. Chris didn’t leave her with much stuff, just her phone that was quickly losing battery, her purse, and a duffle bag that she threw her essentials in. Luckily, she always brought a battery pack in case of emergencies. She chewed on her lip for a while, wondering what to do next.

“Fuck it,” she muttered under her breath. She typed a quick text to Chris, hoping he hadn’t blocked her number yet.

I need the rest of my stuff. When can I pick it up?

She waited a few seconds before her phone pinged.

Tomorrow morning. John will be there.

Y/N didn’t bother to text back, her body exhausted from the day, her mind shutting down to protect herself from the incoming wave of emotions. She decided to retire for the night, just after showering in the dirty bathroom, she thought it would be best to stay in the clothes she came in, unsure of the last time the bedsheets were actually clean. Once in bed, the weight of the day came crashing down on her. Their three-year relationship was gone, just down the drain. Chris was someone she found herself imagining living the rest of her life with, but now their relationship has ended like this. Once a drop of tear escaped, there was no turning back. She was angry at him for not giving her a chance to speak, for not giving her the chance to tell him about the baby she might be carrying, but overall she was just sad. Chris had never behaved like this towards her, or anyone he knows for that matter! It would have taken a lot to get him this upset, but she just didn’t know what she did to make him upset like this- or if there was even a reason. Perhaps that was the most upsetting part of it all, he never gave her a chance to fix the relationship. He just gave up on them. He didn’t fight for them. Y/N spent hours grieving over the relationship she lost, mourning over the future she thought she would have.

Her heart was bubbling with anger and hurt, the feelings making her want to vomit, but she remained strong. She lived all her other years without Chris, and would be damned if she let him ruin her life like this. Overall, she felt defeated with the turn of events. Chris was as stubborn as a person would get, he wasn’t going to change his mind or listen to her while he was still this hurt. After a restless sleep, she woke up at around 9AM, unusually late for her, but she was grateful for the fact that it was now a reasonable time to head over to Chris’s apartment. She took her car, thankful that she always had a preference towards a CRV instead of smaller cars.

“Hi John,” Y/N greeted quietly, not knowing what his mood was going to be. She wasn’t even sure if he knew the whole story, and if he would be resentful towards her.

“Hi Y/N,” he replied. He gave her a small smile, sympathy in his eyes. “How are you holding up?”

She shrugged. “Not great.”

He nodded, unsure of what else to say. “Do you need help getting these in your car?”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

John grabbed the box closest to him, and placed it inside her car. Slowly, but surely the car was starting to get full with all her stuff, and it left her heart aching more. Once the last of her items were in the car, John stopped her. “Before I forget. Chris wanted me to give you this.” He handed her a stapled contract.

“Oh right… The agreement,” Y/N mumbled. She never thought her relationship with Chris would end this badly, she never thought it would end, period. She was sure he was the one she would spend the rest of her life with. She would never forget signing this form when they reached their second year anniversary, almost a year ago. Chris hadn’t even told her about this directly, John had given her all this information on his own.

“Sorry about all this, Y/N.”

“It’s not your fault, John. How should I make the payments?”

“You can deposit it into the account shown on the last page. It should have all the information you need, and if you have any questions feel free to call me.”

She read over the letter, heart sinking when she saw the amount of money she owed, but she wasn’t surprised. Chris had spent quite a great deal on her and the relationship. She dragged her feet to the motel, hoping to find some apartments around the area that she can afford. She was far from poor, but if she needed to make monthly instalments to Chris, she would need to be smart with her budget. Afterall, paying someone $50 000 was not in her mind when she was making the budget for the year.

The first thing she did was book an appointment with her family doctor to confirm her pregnancy. Y/N was hoping to make the first appointment with Chris after she had told him, but now she supposed everything had to be done by herself. She went back to work the next day, refusing to stay in bed and wallow in her sorrow.

Her doctor’s appointment was on a rainy Wednesday, the weather matching her foul mood. She was grateful that they didn’t ask too many questions about the baby daddy, and instead focused on the her and the baby’s health, giving her all the information she needed.

A month after they separated, the investigation started. Y/N wasn’t sure what to think. She knew for sure she would never steal from Chris, she was adamant in proving that she was never with him for his money. But no one seemed to believe her. She couldn’t blame them. If Chris didn’t even believe her, how could she expect strangers to believe her? She did her best with giving as much information to the police as possible. They were looking into her accounts, but she was confident they wouldn’t find anything. She was positive in her innocence.

The stress was getting to her, pressure from her friends and family on why she and Chris broke up on top of the investigation was piling up. She woke up in her one bedroom apartment, a sharp pain in her abdomen. A pressure in her chest was building as an ominous feeling dawned on  her. She made a beeline to the bathroom, seeing the blood seep through her cream shorts, and she felt nauseous. She phoned her OB/Gyn in a panic, quickly washing up to Uber to her doctor. She wasn’t going to risk driving in this condition.Two long hours later, and she got her result. She had a miscarriage. While her doctor was going on with how often it happened, she tuned out. There was an empty feeling in her heart, and she wasn’t sure if it would ever be filled again.

Y/N had no time to grieve the loss of her baby because a month later the press found out about the whole investigation. After that her life became a living hell. The journalist and press were following her around like a piranha smelling fresh blood. Once the news became public that she was remotely involved in this fraud case, she was fired from her workplace with the excuse that they didn’t want to have the negative press on her team. The next few months were unbearable to say the least. Every day was harder than the previous.

Y/N left her home to do a quick grocery run, her small home was packed with paparazzis around her. She asked her lawyer a few months ago to move to a smaller apartment and somewhere she could have a small sense of security, losing her job and the payments she made to John made a considerable dent to her savings. Unfortunately, her lawyer said no. There were strict rules on what she could and couldn’t do as a part of this investigation as outlined by the court, and moving was not an option. As she was coming back, one of the journalist had gotten close to her, enough to hit her with their giant cameras.

“What do you have to say about the investigation?”

“Were you just with Chris for his money?”

“Did you steal from him?”

“Did you plan all of this?”

Questions were thrown at her, each one hitting her harder. She knew that she never had any intention of hurting Chris, even after all this time, she was no longer mad at him. Instead, she felt sorry for him. It must have been hard for him to accept that the people closest to him betrayed him, and she knew how sensitive he was to the people around him. He was always so friendly to people, and there were some that took advantage of his kindness.

“Please leave me alone,” she said, trying to avoid more cameras hitting her.

“What was that?”

“Can you repeat that?”

“Did you say to leave you alone?”

It was the first time she acknowledged them by talking to them, and they were eating it up. Now she was even more anxious. She knew not to have given them anything, Chris had told her that all the time when they were dating. Once they think they have a chance to get something out of you, they would attack and be more aggressive with their advances. Finally, she made it inside her home, quickly locking the door behind her and throwing her groceries on the kitchen counter. Once her hands were empty, she fell to her knees, tears quickly falling down her face.

-

Scott drove them both home, Chris being unfit to even get behind the wheels with his mind so jumbled.

“You gonna be okay?” Scott asked once they arrived at Chris’s farmhouse.

Chris nodded numbly, offering a forced smile. “Yea, I’ll be fine. Go on your date.”

“I can cancel-”

“Scott, really, it’s fine.” Chris punched his brother’s arm, trying to give him a semblance of his old self. “I’ll be fine. I’m good.”

“Okay. If you need anything- and I mean anything, call me, okay?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Yes, mom.”

Scott chuckled, shaking his head. He grabbed his duffle bag of stuff he brought when he stayed over.

Once Scott left, Chris fell to his couch. Dodger padding towards him, and throwing his toy next to him. “Not now, buddy.” He did, however, scratch the back of the canine’s ears. “I fucked up, and I gotta figure out a way to apologize to your mom.” He pulled out his phone, trying to find any sign on Y/N through her social media. She’s never been an avid user, especially once their relationship became public. He wasn’t surprised to find that she hasn’t been active since a bit before they broke up.

However, something on his Twitter caught his eye. It was a paparazzi photo of Y/N from the morning exiting a grocery store, and a few more from outside of what he assumed was her home. She was highly distressed, her sunglasses failing to hide the crease between her brows, and the way her body curled in itself. The tweet itself was hateful, telling Y/N she brought this upon herself. Chris flared with anger, seeing the replies and other tweets, all blaming her. Just like him, they didn’t hear her side of the story. He went through the journalist’s tweets, they wrote clickbait articles using her name, getting quotes from her friends and family that he knew weren’t all that truthful. One of the article broke his heart. There was a quote from her begging them to stop following her, to leave her alone, but they made a joke out of it in their writing. They weren’t interested in telling a story. They were there to just break her even more.

Chris went back to his page, and tweeted something for the first time in a few months.

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[amandabe11man]

Okay here’s my little essay about why I think lawrence’s victory over hoffman in Saw 3D doesn’t make sense from a narrative standpoint.

I don’t claim to be a perfect storyteller or anything (like, at all), but while I like Lawrence, my bullshit-sensors are tingling every time I think about the conclusion of this franchise.

yeah I know, I'm looking really dumb trying to bring logic into the goddamn Saw-movies, but just hear me out...:

first of all, we need to talk about Lawrence in comparison to the other apprentices. I’m not the first one to point out that lawrence’s reasons for helping John are pretty much never mentioned ever. I made a post earlier on about how I felt it wasn’t meant to be that way (because it seemed like just another ‘BET YOU DIDN’T SEE THAT COMING’-twist ending) but an anon clarified that there actually were hints through the earlier movies that Lawrence would become a jigsaw-apprentice, so that theory of mine was debunked, just so we’re clear.

ANYWAY where was I? yeah, about Lawrence. just like all the characters, he’s layered. he’s a regular joe just living life, trying to be a good person while still making bad choices. he’s flawed, but again, who isn’t? that’s why it’s so whack to see him return again in 3D, all slow-clapping and obviously villainous. like- I know it’s been a few years since the first movie then, but where the hell did that personality change come from? from getting a divorce? c’mon, anyone could see that coming even back in the first movie. move on, man. and aside from that little detail + the flashback of how John took him in and made him an apprentice, we don’t get anything else about how Lawrence’s life supposedly took a dive after all that. it’s just nada up until 3D.

now, to put things into perspective, think about how Amanda and Hoffman’s reasons for helping John both made a lot more sense given what kind of people they were (I mean yeah, hoffman was blackmailed, but he killed anyway before that). amanda was a vulnerable drug-addict, bent on self-destruction. until she died, working for John gave her a new sense of purpose in life; one she thought she could handle, even though she couldn’t in the end. it wasn’t meant to be, and she even admits it. of course her helping John at all after what he did to her is illogical, but if you think about the kind of person Amanda was, you can see why she would do that. that way, it makes sense.

now, hoffman is hoffman, I get it. guy’s a douche, but this franchise has a lot of those. his corruption-arc also makes sense though, when you take into account what he’s been through. his sister was murdered, the killer didn’t get punished, and he took the law into his own hands, and he just kinda kept going after that until John made him agree to be an apprentice.

what I'm saying is: Amanda and hoffman being apprentices doesn’t feel foreign when you think about their circumstances. now, Lawrence was traumatized after the bathroom, sure. he cut his foot off and got crazy enough to try to kill Adam. he “had” to make the choice between his family or killing Adam. given how he’s a doctor, knowing that he almost killed a man must surely keep him up at night sometimes. because he’s supposed to save people, not kill them.

it’d be helpful though, if we got to see literally anything of this. give the viewer a reason to believe why Lawrence, a well-off doctor, would do a heel-turn to help a serial killer who targeted him and his family. my best guess is that after Alison divorced him (and presumably took Diana with her), he just felt he might as well not gaf about being a good man anymore, because now he only lives for himself. his family can’t be in danger if they’re not even in his life anymore, right? i suppose that sort of spite could be enough of a reason for him to go off the deep end, but it’s still a weak reason to help the serial killer who had it out for you and helped put you in that situation to begin with.

this could be the reason, if it wasn’t for the fact that the first time he met with his family again after the bathroom, Lawrence had already been made into a jigsaw-apprentice. brainwashed or not, he’d already made the choice before a divorce had even happened, so that just adds another level of confusion to all this.

so yeah, the ending to 3D happens, and we return to where this all started; the bathroom. and this time, Lawrence is the one to shut the door on someone who, in a way, deserves it. Justice is served, and all that. but when you think about it... there’s not much poetic justice in Lawrence locking hoffman in there at all. why? because hoffman wasn’t involved in the bathroom-trap back when it happened to Adam and Lawrence.

wouldn’t it have come into a much more satisfying full circle if Lawrence had locked John, or even Amanda, in there, since they were the ones responsible for his particular trap? having him lock John in there would of course be the BEST option, since Amanda used to be just another victim as well. therefore, having John be put into a trap of his own, and by one of his victims no less, would just have been--  like, so good. just mirroring john’s actions at the end of 1 where he left Adam to die, thereby giving a nice little conclusion to how Lawrence felt about that too. Adam wasn’t given a choice in the end, so Lawrence will leave John there the same way. yeah, he’s dead since Saw 3, but just imagine a scenario where he’d stayed alive somehow till the end, where he wouldn’t have been able to die on his own terms. THAT’S poetic justice, baby!

but no, instead we get Lawrence taking revenge for Jill on john’s behalf, because...? why does he care about Jill? what’s stopping Lawrence from just bailing as soon as John died? Hoffman got the short end of the stick because he just wasn’t likable to enough people, I suppose. but when you think deeper about it, he has no connection to the bathroom whatsoever. there are no parallels to be had between him and that place. if we wanna be logical about it, have him end up in a trap of his own making instead, or better yet; have Strahm survive and be the one to put him in that trap of his own making, since they had their whole cat-and-mouse-dynamic going on. they had a history and it would make sense for Strahm to finally be the one to kill him. but who is Lawrence to hoffman? dunno, bc the movie doesn’t care to tell us that little detail.

i suppose the conclusion is that I can see why they would have Lawrence shut someone in the bathroom, because parallels n shit. my issue is mostly with how the one being shut in there never personally wronged Lawrence, afaik. hoffman has done a lot of shit to warrant punishment, but not when it’s dished out by Lawrence, because he never did anything to him. still, we’re supposed to cheer for Lawrence for this, when we barely know of his circumstances. all I see is a weird favoritism towards Lawrence from john’s side.  after all, he did always respectfully(?) refer to Lawrence as “dr. gordon”, while almost all his other victims were addressed by their first names. (very weird, since John was mad enough at Lawrence to put him in a trap. but go off I guess) not to mention, Lawrence failed to (attempt to) kill Adam on time, but hey, he cut off his foot in desperation to get out, so uh... guess that makes him worthy, in john’s eyes? doesn’t change the fact that Lawrence failed his “game”.

not only did he fail in that regard, but before then, he failed in his marriage, he wasn’t there for Diana as much as he should’ve been, he failed his crazy patient, and he failed Adam by not sending help back for him for some reason (that’s a whole different post that someone else has already made though, lol). throughout the whole series, Lawrence has been rewarded when he shouldn’t have been, basically. sure, he’s estranged from his family, but that’s about the only setback that he’s endured since John let him go that first time. by the time 3D rolls around, he’s cynical, but he seems to be doing just fine anyway.

and that’s the very long reason why I think that Lawrence essentially getting the last laugh in the original franchise doesn’t sit right with me. boom

[samrosemodblog]

Time for Sam Ramblings! It's been a while since I rambled about something. Also whose ready for some Fandom Whiplash?

Cause I'm rambling about Homestuck.

Homestuck is strange to me cause I was in the PRIME position to absolutely adore it when it premiered, on account of being a huge fan of the series that came before it, Problem Sleuth.

God I loved Problem Sleuth. One of the rare series where from basically page 1 it had me busting my gut with the absurdities.

So I figured I'd love Homestuck too. And while I did dig it for a while, it was always kinda just "Okay" with me going along with the motions. And I DEFINITELY didn't understand the story telling pacing on account of all the time travel shenanigans going on, or the way Hussie decided to EXECUTE those time travel narratives.

I remember dropping out of reading the story around the time of Part 5 airing, you know, when the Trolls REALLY got involved in the story. Which is funny because apparently from what I've seen, this is everyone in the fandom's favorite part of the story.

And I'm rambling about this NOW, because I decided for the kicks to go back and listen to a Youtube Reading of Homestuck, just so I could actually say I'd seen all of Homestuck one day.

And those readings just got to the start of Act 5 now which means I'm all caught up from my past. So I wanted to put my thoughts to paper and then toss them into the void for anyone who cares.

The rest under a Read More!

To start my thoughts, a second read of Homestuck has done a lot for my understanding of Homestuck's story, even if I forgot a LOT of what happened near the end of act 4 on retrospective.

Having even some knowledge of the future meant that when those events occurred in the past, they made INFINITELY more sense than an initial linear timeline viewing of the story.

So in some senses I really was enjoying the story more this time around than I did the first time, though I think I can identify more of what the issue this time around is of why it just feels OKAY in comparison to Problem Sletuh.

Homestuck is basically a game within a game within a Webcomic, narratively speaking. All of that is LITERAL in terms of the story being told, even the 4th Wall is literally part of the story.

And part of the disconnected feeling is that the "Game" of Sburb, the game that starts the story off in Act 1, isn't really used to its full potential.

Like when Act 1 first started, I was FULLY into the idea of this double-layered story telling of kids playing a game and using the game mechanics while they were 'controlled' by a game on the outside.

Like I said, it's LITERALLY a game within a game story telling.

But the Game never really plays out to any meaningful effect. The 'Game' of Sburb is just a plot device that gives the kids, essentially, alchemy super powers.

Sure they can KIND of alter the area they spawn in, but that never really plays any kind of factor in the larger space of the story (at least as far as up to Act 5 is concerned, maybe I'm wrong here, but even if it DOES the feeling of disconnect is still there for all of Acts 1 through 4).

Like. I imagine Problem Sleuth, where the world FUNCTIONALLY is a dream world running on Dream Logic.

One of the first things that happens is the main character pulling a window off of the wall, but still being able to use it as a window to where the window exited out to, like a moving portal.

Imagine THOSE kind of shenanigans but with the game world. Being able to treat reality as if it existed in dream logic.

A story where Rose was able to take the windows on John's house and make duplicates of them around the world, giving John fast access back to his house.

If the new world they were exploring within Sburb was a hostile and dangerous world, and they made themselves safe havens that were essentially copy + pastes of their homes, with door portals that lead them between these havens, and allow them to 'fast travel' between locations.

The Game would be their world world, because the story would be dictated of them essentially living IN the game! And they ESSENTIALLY always have! They just never had direct access to that game until Sburb existed!

But of course this never really happens in the story.

Instead you get drawn into a confusing game within a game within a webcomic story, combined with so much time travel you can't even nervously shift in place without bumping into SOMETHING that was directly involved in time travel.

And that's not even getting into the whole absurdity of the 'Dream' world ALSO being the antagonist world that the kids are fighting against.

Essentially Homestuck gets bogged down REAL quick with all of these other story elements that, at least FEEL, completely separated from the game in the first place.

And sure, I get that part of the problem in the story is essentially that BECAUSE the kids prototyped the kernel sprite with Clowns, cats, pink, and birds that it caused the main villain to be infuriated over having to wear a stupid hat, but it's such a minor detail that it gets entirely lost in the shuffle!

It's not that any of this is necessarily bad, after all Homestuck's fandom was fucking HUGE when it came on the scene (especially with the trolls), but it definitely had always left me with a feeling of "It feels like a lot could be done with this concept, but instead of doing anything with it, we went with a strange time-travel and alien home-worlds warring narrative instead"

But I suppose this is all relative. It's not necessarily a BAD story, it's just one that leaves a lot up to the reader to figure things out and/or wait for them to be figured out on their own, and that can be kind of tough to deal with.

Also some of the language hasn't held up, at all. And I don't think it even held up even back then. 10 years is a long time in terms of cultural shifts, but even still oof.

But that's a minor part at the very least and doesn't come up very often, so I can at least shrug it off for now.

Anyways, that caps off my feelings of the first 4 acts as they exist right now. And I wanted to get them down because one of the most common reading advice for people new to Homestuck is "Skip to Act 3!" and it's like

That's such terrible advice and not a great way to kick off this huge adventure lol

But at least I think I figured out WHY Acts 1 through 4 gave me such a "This is okay" feeling, as said above.

But what kicked me out of reading the rest was Part 5 Act 1 (Seriously why isn't it just Act 5 and 6?? They're long enough to be separate acts, lord).

EVERYONE ELSE seemed to adore the trolls and loved exploring their world and getting to know them more.

They annoyed the Hell out of me originally.

Not only had I been thrown off/hated the whole fact that John made his own family and friends and himself RANDOMLY AND WITHOUT ANY THOUGHT (Like he literally just stumbles into a room and goes ahead and makes the paradoxes and just... Just does things??? UGH I STILL HATE IT), but then these assholes came along and just had COMPLETELY obnoxious personalities and text chats that were a pain in the ass to read and took over the ENTIRE STORY away from the characters I actually cared about.

ALSO PERSTERCHUM LOGS ARE WAY TOO LONG, EVEN FROM THE START OF THE STORY, EVERY TIME IT'S LIKE 10 MINUTES TO READ WHAT'S GOING ON, I SWEAR TO GOD-

So I just wanted to put my thoughts down on what Homestuck had been TO ME so far before I end up dragging myself through the rest of the story that I HAVEN'T seen until now.

I believe I got spoiled on how the story ends from a tumblr post but my memory of it is really vague and I don't remember HOW they get to that conclusion, but it felt very Problem-Sleuthy in how it ended so ya know.

Either way, it will be interesting to see if any of my feelings end up changing here. I doubt I'll ever be officially part of the 'Fandom' like other people were, but hey, if I get to the end of the story and like what I have so far I can at least partake in the fanart and fanfics and finally know what's going on lol

PS. I DO find it funny that "The Midnight Gang" was essentially a commissioned side-story in the Problem Sleuth universe, and one of the on-going 'Gag' commands was "Enter the Main story!", but of course they never did.

I guess Homestuck is what happens when they actually do lol

[spooky-space-kook]

Goddammit. Okay. Things I am obsessed with from In The Flesh. (NOTE: I am a dumbass who knows jackall about anything I'm talking about. If I'm ever insensitive about a topic, please just tell me. I only do my best, ok?)

Amy is a gift and every moment she's on screen I fall in love that little bit more. This isn't a deep assessment I just fucking love Amy.

I could be completely off base, but each of our main "PDS Sufferers" feel as though they represent different ways mental illness is expressed. I know fuckall about most mental illnesses and so will leave it at that. I just think it's interesting.

I also like how they use characters to show the many different responses to oppression. Keiran's initial go-along-to-get-along becoming awareness and resentment. Freddy insisting he's not like the others. Simon finding purpose. Keiran's parent's blind ignorance and total faith in the system. Ken Burton becoming fervently anti-undead to hide the fact his wife is undead and returned home. Bill and Rick acting as though it isn't real, and crumbling the moment the thin veil is torn away. And Amy being the treasure she is and just leaning way the fuck in.

Everyone dressed in Amy's style at the end. Especially Sue and Shirley. Even more that Keiran's idea of "moregeous" is Old Man Hat.

The contrast between Rick and Simon's room. The former clearly hiding under so much masculine hooplah. Sexy half naked women, army crap. And at odds with the character we get glimpses of when in Keiren's presence. The latter's room is very much... well, gay. And young. Walls covered in boyband posters and race car drivers. I know the director said he left home as a teen, and honestly I'm surprised it wasn't earlier. The space is very much a pre-teen's. It says so much about Simon's character. That even if he left in his mid-teens, he must've started drifting away much earlier.

Simon's many, many layers and huge shirts. To me it ties strongly with what we learn in s2 ep5. It comes off as dressing to hide oneself.

The village's characters all interact like people who have known one another for years. Even the bad guys. When Keiran is in a very dire situation and being threatened by Gary in the last episode, he still talks to him like you would any schmuck you've known since elementary days. And all the interactions are this way. Personal and understanding in a way that's specific to a community where everyone has always known everyone. Fuck I love it so much.

I just appreciate the consistent characterization so much. It's so fucking good. Even when they started having to rush things along, they did it well. Characters grew without becoming totally different people.

S2 Ep5. Ignoring revoked consent. It was a very interesting moment to me. The whole episode made me re-evaluate a lot of aspects of the character, but this in particular stood out as impactful.

Even through it all, I sympathize with Jem and Gary and every other poor soul who lived through the Rising. I don't know if I'm supposed to, but I do. What they went through was awful. And traumatizing. They have every reason to be afraid. It is not an invalid fear. I love that they never showed us the human's experiences, because we've likely seen it enough times to understand and sympathize.

AND FURTHERMORE every PDS Sufferer is as much a victim! Because they really weren't in control, and had no way to be besides.

And along with that note, I love the moment when Jem makes The Big Mistake. Because I agreed with her. I thought she should go to the authorities. It was an accident, but the consequences were huge. And immediately after thinking this, I asked myself why I feel our PDS souls should get a pass due to trauma and lack of control, when Jem essentially had the same experience as a result of PTSD. I love that so much. The show constantly has me comparing and contrasting the experiences of the living and undead.

The very deliberate staging of Weston and Halperin. First working together, eventually split, and finally... no Weston at all. The moment where they are standing separate, Halperin with their benefactor on one side, Weston on the other, divided by a column, is very interesting. Halperin is friendly and welcoming to Weir, the representative of their funding source. Weston is clearly hostile. After that moment, we never see Weston again. So much said with so little! Ugh! So good! I want to know more about that divide. What it lead to. Why was Weston gone later?

I like Gary. There I said it. He's a horrible person but a damn good character. I simultaneously sympathize with him and want to slap the absolute shit out of him. We get glimpses into his total inability to cope (the story at lunch, coping with humor. Terrorizing people. Refusing to move on.) But it's interesting. When we see him with the living he seems like a fairlu nice, empathetic person. Were this the Walking Dead, Gary would be the Good Guy. He'd maybe even be our protagonist. And in a lot of ways the show treats him appropriately. We see many facets to his personality, both good and bad. We see him in a sympathetic light occassionally. He's never quite a 2 dimensional nut job or monster. It's great.

Every shot in Simon's former home. Every. Single. Shot where they are together? Empty chair. The emphasis on a missing figure is so lovely and clever. And sad.

This is the world's smallest thing but no two actors look more like mother and son than Sue and Keiran. Same big fuck-off doe eyes.

There'll be more, just you fuckin' wait. I've been rewatching the shit out of this show and need to get my thoughts out.

ADDITIONALLY. SPOILERS BTW.

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If Keiran is the first risen I will eat every left sock I fucking own. I went back to s1 ep2 and there were about a zillion other legs walking around when he crawled his lazy ass out of that coffin! Which is even more infuriatingly intriguing.

I'm also not surprised that literally zero fic can imagine our main pair being together outside of small moments near the show's timeline. Simon has an addictive personality and only just found purpose. I think domesticity wouldn't suit him. Meanwhile Keiran craves it. That and normalcy, simplicity... I wish there had been more time to see that conflict.

I wish we could've seen more of Gary. I want to know if they ever planned redemption for him. The way they treat him, it feels like they were going to. His portrayal felt too sympathetic, otherwise.

I wish we could have seen Jem grow. She was such a good character and I genuinely felt for her. Simultaneously called a badass and a coward. Maybe feeling that way too. She deserved the rest of the arc she never got.

ALSO. I NEED TO KNOW. WHO THE LEADER OF THE ULA IS. I NEED TO. My suspicions: John Weston. But we'll never know now T_T

[aroarolibrary]

Oh man so, first off: congrats to angel/dean shippers on getting your canon thing in spanish but secondly:

Man this whole thing that’s been happening with this show over the last few weeks has 100% reminded me that this show and Sherlock were the two fandoms that made be super romance repulsed because of all the internalized self-hate and trauma they caused me. Like. I was romance repulsed before but those fandoms?? Jacked it up to 100% for years in which I couldn’t interact with any romantic stories or fandoms at all.

Story time!!!

Tw for: self harm, self hatred, hypersexuality, mental health issues, child neglect.

So imagine you are me: a young person who has just graduated high school and, very suddently, went from being “single mother of your little sister” who you had essentially raised on your own for the last four years when she was 5 to 9 yo to “every day college kid that sees their sibling that they raised for the last four years maybe once a month.

Also imagine that, out of all of your high school friends, none of them are attending the same university as you and so. Well.

You’re feeling pretty lonely and depressed.

Now also imagine: you didn’t really have a chance to consume media I HS because: parent. In fact 90% of what you watched was kids cartoons for your sibling +bonus Inuyasha at 3am as a...Uh....treat.....(that’s the kind way of saying ‘setting an alarm at 3am to check to make sure the parents actually got home from wherever TF they vanished to nearly every night).

But hey! You are free now and can watch/read what you want between classes! Only, well, where to start? You go to a book store and find a Sherlock Holmes book and think “okay ya I’ve always wanted to read these!” And proceed to consume them in one week flat.

They are amazing. The relationship between Sherlock and John reminds you of your and one of your best friends/honorary cousins that you haven’t seen in a while and it brings you comfort to read, but now you are out of stories so, you do what any person this day in ages does: you find fanfiction. Now, Sherlock wasn���t a thing at this point and so nearly all the fanfics were based on the books and, of those, 80-85% you gen. No romance at all. Just relaxing stories about friends and solving mysteries.

Then Sherlock happens and, don’t get me wrong, I was definitely a fan when the show started, but suddenly fanfiction was no longer mostly gen, it was shifting, becoming more and more shipping and romance related and it became harder and harder to find non-romantic stories.

Then a person I was living with suggested supernatural. “It’s a story about brothers and it focuses on them.” They said “very little romance. You would probably like it.”

And so I watched it and, they were right, I did. And ya, that one wasn’t exactly like the early Sherlock Holmes fandom, it had a lot of shipping from the get go, but I could also really easily find gen fics that focused on siblings and familial relationships and ignore the rest since there was a pretty even 50/50 split with a slight favor on the gen side.

(Keep in mind there is a LOT of other irl trauma going on in the BG of this story which I know I’ve talked about before. A lot of which is also feeding into the romance repulsion and my avoidance of romance in fandom spaces along with my “blossoming” hypersexuality)

Anyway, the familial relationship in spn was a comfort. At the point I moved from Sherlock to SPN I was in my second year on university and was doing a bit better mentally (in the “sadness” front at least) but I was still missing seeing my sister a lot and so SPN was a comfort in that sense. It was something to relax with that didn’t have romance or anything of the sort that, at that point, was only driving me further and further into hypersexuality (I was dating my first ‘official’ partner at that point and, while I can recognize it now looking back, romance in shows and movies made me feel inadequate as a partner. Like I was failing and not doing enough. Was not romantic enough. Was not showing affection enough. But physically I also couldn’t bring myself to do those things either. What I could do was sex. And, well, when that’s all you have to offer...)

ANYWAY: spn was the one show I knew of on TV that was low to no romance and that the fandom was also decently low on romance, instead focusing mostly on family and the brothers.

Cut forward a few years, I’m back into a depression, I’ve failed at a relationship again because all I can offer is sex and that’s really not enough for people that are looking for actual romance and:

And supernatural introduces an angel character to the show. It’s interesting but I’m pretty depressed and not really all that interested in the show anyway at this point-

But then the fandom happens and it’s like a flood. The romance pours in from all corners along with the absolute hate for anyone that doesn’t see anything romantic happening. It’s like watching a wild fire go through a fandom, what was once a fandom that mostly was just about siblings all of a sudden became all about this angel character and Dean. So much so that it over shadowed everything and any attempt to just enjoy the show as a gen thing or as a family-centric show became impossible.

It was also around this point that a lot of...idk what to call it really because it wasn’t exactly hate, it was like a “this is the only way to read/be in this fandom and if you aren’t we are going to harass you non-stop until you see things our way”. If you couldn’t see the romance between these two characters it was because you were homophobic. If you preferred gen it was because you were homophobic. If you focused on just the brothers and their relationship it was because you were homophobic. If you couldn’t see that Dean was better off in a romantic relationship then with his brother who he had an ‘unhealthy’ relationship with then you were homophobic.

(Keep in mind at this point I was out as bisexual and had attempted to date a woman at this point. I say attempted because, well, again: aromantic even if I didn’t know it then)

It was intense and, from the POV of an aromantic person struggling with being unable to understand even basic romance: it was traumatizing.

I tried to see it, to understand what these shippers were seeing that I couldn’t. Yes, I could see how Sam and Dean’s relationship could be viewed as unhealthy, but as someone who had lived a similar life to theirs as a kid, and to suddenly be bombarded with this idea that the “healthy” way to cope with that is a “romantic relationship” it was a lot. And by a lot I mean a death spiral.

There was...a lot of one night stands and sex and half-attempted relationships after that, in that desperate attempt to understand. There was also panic, nausea, fear that my own relationship with my sister was unhealthy. Was causing both of us harm. That the only way I could keep from hurting her further was to find a “healthy” romantic relationship instead because siblings aren’t meant to be close, not even those where one raised the other alone for years on end.

I had no context outside of fandom about what a healthy sibling relationship looked like and, hell, most TV shows at the time painted sibling relationships as antagonist 90% of the time and with them only interacting when necessary. My parents both had siblings but my dad talked to his maybe once a month and my mom faught with Hers a lot. I had never faught with my sister. We got along perfectly, mostly because from the ages on 13 - 18 I lived for her alone and so I was used to putting her first no matter what.

But this fandom, that had been a comfort for me for a while, suddenly said that was wrong. That instead romance was the way to go and I...

Well. I am conscious of myself enough now to know that I was purposely hurting myself. A lot. Punishing myself over and over and over again, not just because I couldn’t figure out how to “feel” romance like I was supposed to do but also because I was a terrible sibling. Because I had failed my sister some how and had ended up in an “unhealthy codependent” relationship with her since, if Sam and Dean’s relationship was like that according to fans, then obviously so was ours.

(God and don’t get me started on the spiral that the new Inuyasha Sequel put me into a few months ago. I’m STILL not out of that spiral yet. These last few months have not been good for the “romance isn’t important/is unnecessary” front)

I would like to say that I soon realized how terrible the fandom was for my mental health and that it was causing me to harm myself but that isn’t how this story ends. How it ends is that I Eventually I ended up not being able to watch SPN any more. Every episode was just another dagger in my side. Another failure to press my face into. Another series of interactions where I couldn’t see. Couldn’t understand. Another episode that would let to another desperate one night stand/attempt at understanding how this was better. Healthier. How this was how things were supposed to be. Another night of not talking to my family or friend and another few days of not talking to my sister because talking to her too much was wrong.

So ya. This story doesn’t end nicely. It just slowly fades to black. To a point where I hate myself so much that I can’t bring myself to interact with the fandom or internet at all. Where everything just kind of...goes away and vanished but where the trauma still exists. Where stories that start out about family and, suddenly, introduce love interests leave me nauseous and choked. Where my romance repulsion gets so strong that I can’t sleep because I just keep remembering my failures. The fact that it’s not healthy to focus or care about your family. That there must be romance. There must There must there must. Because with out it all other relationships are bad/wrong/unhealthy and you are bad/wrong/unhealthy for only having those.

Just the endless mantra. All night long.

Bad.

Wrong.

Unhealthy.

Bad.

Wrong.

Unhealthy.

Bad

Wrong.

Unhealthy.

Over and over and over again.

[ishkah]

Beyond Compassion and Humanity; Justice for Non-human Animals by Martha Nussbaum

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This is a great essay vegans can draw on for a virtue ethics answer to the question of why do we hold the principle that it's almost always wrong to breed sentient life into captivity?

So for myself and this strain of virtue ethicists it would be because you know you could leave room for other animals to enjoy happy flourishing, being able to express all their capabilities in wild habitat.

Therefore not wanting to parasitically take away life with meaning for low-order pleasure in our hierarchy of needs which we can find elsewhere.

The distinction between this philosophy and consequentialism would simply be if you wished to act this way because fundimentally it’s about who you want to be and who you want to let animal be:

It goes beyond the contractarian view in its starting point, a basic wonder at living beings, and a wish for their flourishing and for a world in which creatures of many types flourish. It goes beyond the intuitive starting point of utilitarianism because it takes an interest not just in pleasure and pain [and interests], but in complex forms of life. It wants to see each thing flourish as the sort of thing it is. . .[and] that the dignity of living organisms not be violated.

Counter-intuitively the author does still cling to a hedonistic view of the right to take life, but hopefully not for much longer:

If animals were really killed in a painless fashion, after a healthy and free-ranging life, what then? Killings of extremely young animals would still be problematic, but it seems unclear that the balance of considerations supports a complete ban on killings for food.

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BEYOND “COMPASSION AND HUMANITY”

Justice for Non-human Animals

MARTHA C. NUSSBAUM

Certainly it is wrong to be cruel to animals… The capacity for feelings of pleasure and pain and for the forms of life of which animals are capable clearly impose duties of compassion and humanity in their case. I shall not attempt to explain these considered beliefs. They are outside the scope of the theory of justice, and it does not seem possible to extend the contract doctrine so as to include them in a natural way.

—JOHN RAWLS, A Theory of Justice

In conclusion, we hold that circus animals…are housed in cramped cages, subjected to fear, hunger, pain, not to mention the undignified way of life they have to live, with no respite and the impugned notification has been issued in conformity with the…values of human life, [and] philosophy of the Constitution… Though not homo-sapiens [sic], they are also beings entitled to dignified existence and humane treatment sans cruelty and torture… Therefore, it is not only our fundamental duty to show compassion to our animal friends, but also to recognise and protect their rights…If humans are entitled to fundamental rights, why not animals?

—NAIR V. UNION OF INDIA, Kerala High Court, June 2000

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“BEINGS ENTITLED TO DIGNIFIED EXISTENCE”

In 55 B.C. the Roman leader Pompey staged a combat between humans and elephants. Surrounded in the arena, the animals perceived that they had no hope of escape. According to Pliny, they then ―entreated the crowd, trying to win their compassion with indescribable gestures, bewailing their plight with a sort of lamentation.‖ The audience, moved to pity and anger by their plight, rose to curse Pompey, feeling, writes Cicero, that the elephants had a relation of commonality (societas) with the human race. [1]

We humans share a world and its scarce resources with other intelligent creatures. These creatures are capable of dignified existence, as the Kerala High Court says. It is difficult to know precisely what we mean by that phrase, but it is rather clear what it does not mean: the conditions of the circus animals in the case, squeezed into cramped, filthy cages, starved, terrorized, and beaten, given only the minimal care that would make them presentable in the ring the following day. The fact that humans act in ways that deny animals a dignified existence appears to be an issue of justice, and an urgent one, although we shall have to say more to those who would deny this claim. There is no obvious reason why notions of basic justice, entitlement, and law cannot be extended across the species barrier, as the Indian court boldly does.

Before we can perform this extension with any hope of success, however, we need to get clear about what theoretical approach is likely to prove most adequate. I shall argue that the capabilities approach as I have developed it—an approach to issues of basic justice and entitlement and to the making of fundamental political principles [2] —provides better theoretical guidance in this area than that supplied by contractarian and utilitarian approaches to the question of animal entitlements, because it is capable of recognizing a wide range of types of animal dignity, and of corresponding needs for flourishing.

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KANTIAN CONTRACTARIANISM: INDIRECT DUTIES, DUTIES OF COMPASSION

Kant’s own view about animals is very unpromising. He argues that all duties to animals are merely indirect duties to humanity, in that (as he believes) cruel or kind treatment of animals strengthens tendencies to behave in similar fashion to humans. Thus he rests the case for decent treatment of animals on a fragile empirical claim about psychology. He cannot conceive that beings who (in his view) lack self-consciousness and the capacity for moral reciprocity could possibly be objects of moral duty. More generally, he cannot see that such a being can have dignity, an intrinsic worth.

One may, however, be a contractarian—and indeed, in some sense a Kantian— without espousing these narrow views. John Rawls insists that we have direct moral duties to animals, which he calls ―duties of compassion and humanity. [3] But for Rawls these are not issues of justice, and he is explicit that the contract doctrine cannot be extended to deal with these issues, because animals lack those properties of human beings ―in virtue of which they are to be treated in accordance with the principles of justice‖ (TJ 504). Only moral persons, defined with reference to the ―two moral powers,‖ are subjects of justice.

To some extent, Rawls is led to this conclusion by his Kantian conception of the person, which places great emphasis on rationality and the capacity for moral choice. But it is likely that the very structure of his contractarianism would require such a conclusion, even in the absence of that heavy commitment to rationality. The whole idea of a bargain or contract involving both humans and non-human animals is fantastic, suggesting no clear scenario that would assist our thinking. Although Rawls’s Original Position, like the state of nature in earlier contractarian theories, [4] is not supposed to be an actual historical situation, it is supposed to be a coherent fiction that can help us think well. This means that it has to have realism, at least, concerning the powers and needs of the parties and their basic circumstances. There is no comparable fiction about our decision to make a deal with other animals that would be similarly coherent and helpful. Although we share a world of scarce resources with animals, and although there is in a sense a state of rivalry among species that is comparable to the rivalry in the state of nature, the asymmetry of power between humans and non-human animals is too great to imagine the bargain as a real bargain. Nor can we imagine that the bargain would actually be for mutual advantage, for if we want to protect ourselves from the incursions of wild animals, we can just kill them, as we do. Thus, the Rawlsian condition that no one party to the contract is strong enough to dominate or kill all the others is not met. Thus Rawls’s omission of animals from the theory of justice is deeply woven into the very idea of grounding principles of justice on a bargain struck for mutual advantage (on fair terms) out of a situation of rough equality.

To put it another way, all contractualist views conflate two questions, which might have been kept distinct: Who frames the principles? And for whom are the principles framed? That is how rationality ends up being a criterion of membership in the moral community: because the procedure imagines that people are choosing principles for themselves. But one might imagine things differently, including in the group for whom principles of justice are included many creatures who do not and could not participate in the framing.

We have not yet shown, however, that Rawls’s conclusion is wrong. I have said that the cruel and oppressive treatment of animals raises issues of justice, but I have not really defended that claim against the Rawlsian alternative. What exactly does it mean to say that these are issues of justice, rather than issues of ―compassion and humanity? The emotion of compassion involves the thought that another creature is suffering significantly, and is not (or not mostly) to blame for that suffering. [5] It does not involve the thought that someone is to blame for that suffering. One may have compassion for the victim of a crime, but one may also have compassion for someone who is dying from disease (in a situation where that vulnerability to disease is nobody’s fault). ―Humanity I take to be a similar idea. So compassion omits the essential element of blame for wrongdoing. That is the first problem. But suppose we add that element, saying that duties of compassion involve the thought that it is wrong to cause animals suffering. That is, a duty of compassion would not be just a duty to have compassion, but a duty, as a result of one’s compassion, to refrain from acts that cause the suffering that occasions the compassion. I believe that Rawls would make this addition, although he certainly does not tell us what he takes duties of compassion to be. What is at stake, further, in the decision to say that the mistreatment of animals is not just morally wrong, but morally wrong in a special way, raising questions of justice?

This is a hard question to answer, since justice is a much-disputed notion, and there are many types of justice, political, ethical, and so forth. But it seems that what we most typically mean when we call a bad act unjust is that the creature injured by that act has an entitlement not to be treated in that way, and an entitlement of a particularly urgent or basic type (since we do not believe that all instances of unkindness, thoughtlessness, and so forth are instances of injustice, even if we do believe that people have a right to be treated kindly, and so on). The sphere of justice is the sphere of basic entitlements. When I say that the mistreatment of animals is unjust, I mean to say not only that it is wrong of us to treat them in that way, but also that they have a right, a moral entitlement, not to be treated in that way. It is unfair to them. I believe that thinking of animals as active beings who have a good and who are entitled to pursue it naturally leads us to see important damages done to them as unjust. What is lacking in Rawls’s account, as in Kant’s (though more subtly) is the sense of the animal itself as an agent and a subject, a creature in interaction with whom we live. As we shall see, the capabilities approach does treat animals as agents seeking a flourishing existence; this basic conception, I believe, is one of its greatest strengths.

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UTILITARIANISM AND ANIMAL FLOURISHING

Utilitarianism has contributed more than any other ethical theory to the recognition of animal entitlements. Both Bentham and Mill in their time and Peter Singer in our own have courageously taken the lead in freeing ethical thought from the shackles of a narrow species-centered conception of worth and entitlement. No doubt this achievement was connected with the founders’ general radicalism and their skepticism about conventional morality, their willingness to follow the ethical argument wherever it leads. These remain very great virtues in the utilitarian position. Nor does utilitarianism make the mistake of running together the question “who receives justice?” With the question “who frames the principles of justice?” Justice is sought for all sentient beings, many of whom cannot participate in the framing of principles.

Thus it is in a spirit of alliance that those concerned with animal entitlements might address a few criticisms to the utilitarian view. There are some difficulties with the utilitarian view, in both of its forms. As Bernard Williams and Amartya Sen usefully analyze the utilitarian position, it has three independent elements: consequentialism (the right choice is the one that produces the best overall consequences), sum-ranking (the utilities of different people are combined by adding them together to produce a single total), and hedonism, or some other substantive theory of the good (such as preference satisfaction). [6] Consequentialism by itself causes the fewest difficulties, since one may always adjust the account of well-being, or the good, in consequentialism so as to admit many important things that utilitarians typically do not make salient: plural and heterogeneous goods, the protection of rights, even personal commitments or agent-centred goods. More or less any moral theory can be consequentialized, that is, put in a form where the matters valued by that theory appear in the account of consequences to be produced. [7] Although I do have some doubts about a comprehensive consequentialism as the best basis for political principles in a pluralistic liberal society, I shall not comment on them at present, but shall turn to the more evidently problematic aspects of the utilitarian view. [8]

Let us next consider the utilitarian commitment to aggregation, or what is called ―sum-ranking. Views that measure principles of justice by the outcome they produce need not simply add all the relevant goods together. They may weight them in other ways. For example, one may insist that each and every person has an indefeasible entitlement to come up above a threshold on certain key goods. In addition, a view may, like Rawls’s view, focus particularly on the situation of the least well off, refusing to permit inequalities that do not raise that person’s position. These ways of considering well-being insist on treating people as ends: They refuse to allow some people’s extremely high well-being to be purchased, so to speak, through other people’s disadvantage. Even the welfare of society as a whole does not lead us to violate an individual, as Rawls says.

Utilitarianism notoriously refuses such insistence on the separateness and inviolability of persons. Because it is committed to the sum-ranking of all relevant pleasures and pains (or preference satisfactions and frustrations), it has no way of ruling out in advance results that are extremely harsh toward a given class or group. Slavery, the lifelong subordination of some to others, the extremely cruel treatment of some humans or of non-human animals—none of this is ruled out by the theory’s core conception of justice, which treats all satisfactions as fungible in a single system. Such results will be ruled out, if at all, by empirical considerations regarding total or average well-being. These questions are notoriously indeterminate (especially when the number of individuals who will be born is also unclear, a point I shall take up later). Even if they were not, it seems that the best reason to be against slavery, torture, and lifelong subordination is a reason of justice, not an empirical calculation of total or average well-being. Moreover, if we focus on preference satisfaction, we must confront the problem of adaptive preferences. For while some ways of treating people badly always cause pain (torture, starvation), there are ways of subordinating people that creep into their very desires, making allies out of the oppressed. Animals too can learn submissive or fear-induced preferences. Martin Seligman’s experiments, for example, show that dogs who have been conditioned into a mental state of learned helplessness have immense difficulty learning to initiate voluntary movement, if they can ever do so. [9]

There are also problems inherent in the views of the good most prevalent within utilitarianism: hedonism (Bentham) and preference satisfaction (Singer). Pleasure is a notoriously elusive notion. Is it a single feeling, varying only in intensity and duration, or are the different pleasures as qualitatively distinct as the activities with which they are associated? Mill, following Aristotle, believed the latter, but if we once grant that point, we are looking at a view that is very different from standard utilitarianism, which is firmly wedded to the homogeneity of good. [10]

Such a commitment looks like an especially grave error when we consider basic political principles. For each basic entitlement is its own thing, and is not bought off, so to speak, by even a very large amount of another entitlement. Suppose we say to a citizen: We will take away your free speech on Tuesdays between 3 and 4P.M., but in return, we will give you, every single day, a double amount of basic welfare and health care support. This is just the wrong picture of basic political entitlements. What is being said when we make a certain entitlement basic is that it is important always and for everyone, as a matter of basic justice. The only way to make that point sufficiently clearly is to preserve the qualitative separateness of each distinct element within our list of basic entitlements.

Once we ask the hedonist to admit plural goods, not commensurable on a single quantitative scale, it is natural to ask, further, whether pleasure and pain are the only things we ought to be looking at. Even if one thinks of pleasure as closely linked to activity, and not simply as a passive sensation, making it the sole end leaves out much of the value we attach to activities of various types. There seem to be valuable things in an animal’s life other than pleasure, such as free movement and physical achievement, and also altruistic sacrifice for kin and group. The grief of an animal for a dead child or parent, or the suffering of a human friend, also seem to be valuable, a sign of attachments that are intrinsically good. There are also bad pleasures, including some of the pleasures of the circus audience—and it is unclear whether such pleasures should even count positively in the social calculus. Some pleasures of animals in harming other animals may also be bad in this way.

Does preference utilitarianism do better? We have already identified some problems, including the problem of misinformed or malicious preferences and that of adaptive (submissive) preferences. Singer’s preference utilitarianism, moreover, defining preference in terms of conscious awareness, has no room for deprivations that never register in the animal’s consciousness.

But of course animals raised under bad conditions can’t imagine the better way of life they have never known, and so the fact that they are not living a more flourishing life will not figure in their awareness. They may still feel pain, and this the utilitarian can consider. What the view cannot consider is all the deprivation of valuable life activity that they do not feel.

Finally, all utilitarian views are highly vulnerable on the question of numbers. The meat industry brings countless animals into the world who would never have existed but for that. For Singer, these births of new animals are not by themselves a bad thing: Indeed, we can expect new births to add to the total of social utility, from which we would then subtract the pain such animals suffer. It is unclear where this calculation would come out. Apart from this question of indeterminacy, it seems unclear that we should even say that these births of new animals are a good thing, if the animals are brought into the world only as tools of human rapacity.

So utilitarianism has great merits, but also great problems.

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TYPES OF DIGNITY, TYPES OF FLOURISHING: EXTENDING THE CAPABILITIES APPROACH

The capabilities approach in its current form starts from the notion of human dignity and a life worthy of it. But I shall now argue that it can be extended to provide a more adequate basis for animal entitlements than the other two theories under consideration. The basic moral intuition behind the approach concerns the dignity of a form of life that possesses both deep needs and abilities; its basic goal is to address the need for a rich plurality of life activities. With Aristotle and Marx, the approach has insisted that there is waste and tragedy when a living creature has the innate, or ―basic,‖ capability for some functions that are evaluated as important and good, but never gets the opportunity to perform those functions. Failures to educate women, failures to provide adequate health care, failures to extend the freedoms of speech and conscience to all citizens—all these are treated as causing a kind of premature death, the death of a form of flourishing that has been judged to be worthy of respect and wonder. The idea that a human being should have a chance to flourish in its own way, provided it does no harm to others, is thus very deep in the account the capabilities approach gives of the justification of basic political entitlements.

The species norm is evaluative, as I have insisted; it does not simply read off norms from the way nature actually is. The difficult questions this valuational exercise raises for the case of non-human animals will be discussed in the following section. But once we have judged that a central human power is one of the good ones, one of the ones whose flourishing defines the good of the creature, we have a strong moral reason for promoting its flourishing and removing obstacles to it.

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Dignity and Wonder: The Intuitive Starting Point

The same attitude to natural powers that guides the approach in the case of human beings guides it in the case of all forms of life. For there is a more general attitude behind the respect we have for human powers, and it is very different from the type of respect that animates Kantian ethics. For Kant, only humanity and rationality are worthy of respect and wonder; the rest of nature is just a set of tools. The capabilities approach judges instead, with the biologist Aristotle (who criticized his students’ disdain for the study of animals), that there is something wonderful and wonder-inspiring in all the complex forms of animal life.

Aristotle’s scientific spirit is not the whole of what the capabilities approach embodies, for we need, in addition, an ethical concern that the functions of life not be impeded, that the dignity of living organisms not be violated. And yet, if we feel wonder looking at a complex organism, that wonder at least suggests the idea that it is good for that being to flourish as the kind of thing it is. And this idea is next door to the ethical judgment that it is wrong when the flourishing of a creature is blocked by the harmful agency of another. That more complex idea lies at the heart of the capabilities approach.

So I believe that the capabilities approach is well placed, intuitively, to go beyond both contractarian and utilitarian views. It goes beyond the contractarian view in its starting point, a basic wonder at living beings, and a wish for their flourishing and for a world in which creatures of many types flourish. It goes beyond the intuitive starting point of utilitarianism because it takes an interest not just in pleasure and pain, but in complex forms of life. It wants to see each thing flourish as the sort of thing it is.

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By Whom and for Whom? The Purposes of Social Cooperation

For a contractarian, as we have seen, the question ―Who makes the laws and principles? is treated as having, necessarily, the same answer as the question ―For whom are the laws and principles made? That conflation is dictated by the theory’s account of the purposes of social cooperation. But there is obviously no reason at all why these two questions should be put together in this way. The capabilities approach, as so far developed for the human case, looks at the world and asks how to arrange that justice be done in it. Justice is among the intrinsic ends that it pursues. Its parties are imagined looking at all the brutality and misery, the goodness and kindness of the world and trying to think how to make a world in which a core group of very important entitlements, inherent in the notion of human dignity, will be protected. Because they look at the whole of the human world, not just people roughly equal to themselves, they are able to be concerned directly and non-derivatively, as we saw, with the good of the mentally disabled. This feature makes it easy to extend the approach to include human-animal relations.

Let us now begin the extension. The purpose of social cooperation, by analogy and extension, ought to be to live decently together in a world in which many species try to flourish. (Cooperation itself will now assume multiple and complex forms.) The general aim of the capabilities approach in charting political principles to shape the human-animal relationship would be, following the intuitive ideas of the theory, that no animal should be cut off from the chance at a flourishing life and that all animals should enjoy certain positive opportunities to flourish. With due respect for a world that contains many forms of life, we attend with ethical concern to each characteristic type of flourishing and strive that it not be cut off or fruitless.

Such an approach seems superior to contractarianism because it contains direct obligations of justice to animals; it does not make these derivative from or posterior to the duties we have to fellow humans, and it is able to recognize that animals are subjects who have entitlements to flourishing and who thus are subjects of justice, not just objects of compassion. It is superior to utilitarianism because it respects each individual creature, refusing to aggregate the goods of different lives and types of lives. No creature is being used as a means to the ends of others, or of society as a whole. The capabilities approach also refuses to aggregate across the diverse constituents of each life and type of life. Thus, unlike utilitarianism, it can keep in focus the fact that each species has a different form of life and different ends; moreover, within a given species, each life has multiple and heterogeneous ends.

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How Comprehensive?

In the human case, the capabilities approach does not operate with a fully comprehensive conception of the good, because of the respect it has for the diverse ways in which people choose to live their lives in a pluralistic society. It aims at securing some core entitlements that are held to be implicit in the idea of a life with dignity, but it aims at capability, not functioning, and it focuses on a small list. In the case of human-animal relations, the need for restraint is even more acute, since animals will not in fact be participating directly in the framing of political principles, and thus they cannot revise them over time should they prove inadequate.

And yet there is a countervailing consideration: Human beings affect animals’ opportunities for flourishing pervasively, and it is hard to think of a species that one could simply leave alone to flourish in its own way. The human species dominates the other species in a way that no human individual or nation has ever dominated other humans. Respect for other species’ opportunities for flourishing suggests, then, that human law must include robust, positive political commitments to the protection of animals, even though, had human beings not so pervasively interfered with animals’ ways of life, the most respectful course might have been simply to leave them alone, living the lives that they make for themselves.

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The Species and the Individual

What should the focus of these commitments be? It seems that here, as in the human case, the focus should be the individual creature. The capabilities approach attaches no importance to increased numbers as such; its focus is on the well-being of existing creatures and the harm that is done to them when their powers are blighted.

As for the continuation of species, this would have little moral weight as a consideration of justice (though it might have aesthetic significance or some other sort of ethical significance), if species were just becoming extinct because of factors having nothing to do with human action that affects individual creatures. But species are becoming extinct because human beings are killing their members and damaging their natural environments. Thus, damage to species occurs through damage to individuals, and this individual damage should be the focus of ethical concern within the capabilities approach.

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Do Levels of Complexity Matter?

Almost all ethical views of animal entitlements hold that there are morally relevant distinctions among forms of life. Killing a mosquito is not the same sort of thing as killing a chimpanzee. But the question is: What sort of difference is relevant for basic justice? Singer, following Bentham, puts the issue in terms of sentience. Animals of many kinds can suffer bodily pain, and it is always bad to cause pain to a sentient being. If there are non-sentient or barely sentient animals—and it appears that crustaceans, mollusks, sponges, and the other creatures Aristotle called ―stationary animals‖ are such creatures—there is either no harm or only a trivial harm done in killing them. Among the sentient creatures, moreover, there are some who can suffer additional harms through their cognitive capacity: A few animals can foresee and mind their own deaths, and others will have conscious, sentient interests in continuing to live that are frustrated by death. The painless killing of an animal that does not foresee its own death or take a conscious interest in the continuation of its life is, for Singer and Bentham, not bad, for all badness, for them, consists in the frustration of interests, understood as forms of conscious awareness. [11] Singer is not, then, saying that some animals are inherently more worthy of esteem than others. He is simply saying that, if we agree with him that all harms reside in sentience, the creature’s form of life limits the conditions under which it can actually suffer harm.

Similarly, James Rachels, whose view does not focus on sentience alone, holds that the level of complexity of a creature affects what can be a harm for it. [12] What is relevant to the harm of pain is sentience; what is relevant to the harm of a specific type of pain is a specific type of sentience (e.g., the ability to imagine one’s own death). What is relevant to the harm of diminished freedom is a capacity for freedom or autonomy. It would make no sense to complain that a worm is being deprived of autonomy, or a rabbit of the right to vote.

What should the capabilities approach say about this issue? It seems to me that it should not follow Aristotle in saying that there is a natural ranking of forms of life, some being intrinsically more worthy of support and wonder than others. That consideration might have evaluative significance of some other kind, but it seems dubious that it should affect questions of basic justice.

Rachels’s view offers good guidance here. Because the capabilities approach finds ethical significance in the flourishing of basic (innate) capabilities—those that are evaluated as both good and central (see the section on evaluating animal capabilities)—it will also find harm in the thwarting or blighting of those capabilities. More complex forms of life have more and more complex capabilities to be blighted, so they can suffer more and different types of harm. Level of life is relevant not because it gives different species differential worth per se, but because the type and degree of harm a creature can suffer varies with its form of life.

At the same time, I believe that the capabilities approach should admit the wisdom in utilitarianism. Sentience is not the only thing that matters for basic justice, but it seems plausible to consider sentience a threshold condition for membership in the community of beings who have entitlements based on justice. Thus, killing a sponge does not seem to be a matter of basic justice.

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Does the Species Matter?

For the utilitarians, and for Rachels, the species to which a creature belongs has no moral relevance. All that is morally relevant are the capacities of the individual creature: Rachels calls this view ―moral individualism.‖ Utilitarian writers are fond of comparing apes to young children and to mentally disabled humans. The capabilities approach, by contrast, with its talk of characteristic functioning and forms of life, seems to attach some significance to species membership as such. What type of significance is this?

We should admit that there is much to be learned from reflection on the continuum of life. Capacities do crisscross and overlap; a chimpanzee may have more capacity for empathy and perspectival thinking than a very young child or an older autistic child. And capacities that humans sometimes arrogantly claim for themselves alone are found very widely in nature. But it seems wrong to conclude from such facts that species membership is morally and politically irrelevant. A mentally disabled child is actually very different from a chimpanzee, though in certain respects some of her capacities may be comparable. Such a child’s life is tragic in a way that the life of a chimpanzee is not tragic: She is cut off from forms of flourishing that, but for the disability, she might have had, disabilities that it is the job of science to prevent or cure, wherever that is possible. There is something blighted and disharmonious in her life, whereas the life of a chimpanzee may be perfectly flourishing. Her social and political functioning is threatened by these disabilities, in a way that the normal functioning of a chimpanzee in the community of chimpanzees is not threatened by its cognitive endowment.

All this is relevant when we consider issues of basic justice. For a child born with Down syndrome, it is crucial that the political culture in which he lives make a big effort to extend to him the fullest benefits of citizenship he can attain, through health benefits, education, and the reeducation of the public culture. That is so because he can only flourish as a human being. He has no option of flourishing as a happy chimpanzee. For a chimpanzee, on the other hand, it seems to me that expensive efforts to teach language, while interesting and revealing, are not matters of basic justice. A chimpanzee flourishes in its own way, communicating with its own community in a perfectly adequate manner that has gone on for ages.

In short, the species norm (duly evaluated) tells us what the appropriate benchmark is for judging whether a given creature has decent opportunities for flourishing.

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EVALUATING ANIMAL CAPABILITIES: NO NATURE WORSHIP

In the human case, the capabilities view does not attempt to extract norms directly from some facts about human nature. We should know what we can about the innate capacities of human beings, and this information is valuable, in telling us what our opportunities are and what our dangers might be. But we must begin by evaluating the innate powers of human beings, asking which ones are the good ones, the ones that are central to the notion of a decently flourishing human life, a life with dignity. Thus not only evaluation but also ethical evaluation is put into the approach from the start. Many things that are found in human life are not on the capabilities list.

There is a danger in any theory that alludes to the characteristic flourishing and form of life of a species: the danger of romanticizing nature, or suggesting that things are in order as they are, if only we would stop interfering. This danger looms large when we turn from the human case, where it seems inevitable that we will need to do some moral evaluating, to the animal case, where evaluating is elusive and difficult. Inherent in at least some environmentalist writing is a picture of nature as harmonious and wise, and of humans as wasteful overreachers who would live better were we to get in tune with this fine harmony. This image of nature was already very sensibly attacked by John Stuart Mill in his great essay ―Nature,‖ which pointed out that nature, far from being morally normative, is actually violent, heedless of moral norms, prodigal, full of conflict, harsh to humans and animals both. A similar view lies at the heart of much modern ecological thinking, which now stresses the inconstancy and imbalance of nature, [13] arguing, inter alia, that many of the natural ecosystems that we admire as such actually sustain themselves to the extent that they do only on account of various forms of human intervention.

Thus, a no-evaluation view, which extracts norms directly from observation of animals’ characteristic ways of life, is probably not going to be a helpful way of promoting the good of animals. Instead, we need a careful evaluation of both ―nature‖ and possible changes. Respect for nature should not and cannot mean just leaving nature as it is, and must involve careful normative arguments about what plausible goals might be.

In the case of humans, the primary area in which the political conception inhibits or fails to foster tendencies that are pervasive in human life is the area of harm to others. Animals, of course, pervasively cause harm, both to members of their own species and, far more often, to members of other species.

In both of these cases, the capabilities theorist will have a strong inclination to say that the harm-causing capabilities in question are not among those that should be protected by political and social principles. But if we leave these capabilities off the list, how can we claim to be promoting flourishing lives? Even though the capabilities approach is not utilitarian and does not hold that all good is in sentience, it will still be difficult to maintain that a creature who feels frustration at the inhibition of its predatory capacities is living a flourishing life. A human being can be expected to learn to flourish without homicide and, let us hope, even without most killing of animals. But a lion who is given no exercise for its predatory capacity appears to suffer greatly.

Here the capabilities view may, however, distinguish two aspects of the capability in question. The capability to kill small animals, defined as such, is not valuable, and political principles can omit it (and even inhibit it in some cases, to be discussed in the following section). But the capability to exercise one’s predatory nature so as to avoid the pain of frustration may well have value, if the pain of frustration is considerable. Zoos have learned how to make this distinction. Noticing that they were giving predatory animals insufficient exercise for their predatory capacities, they had to face the question of the harm done to smaller animals by allowing these capabilities to be exercised. Should they give a tiger a tender gazelle to crunch on? The Bronx Zoo has found that it can give the tiger a large ball on a rope, whose resistance and weight symbolize the gazelle. The tiger seems satisfied. Wherever predatory animals are living under direct human support and control, these solutions seem the most ethically sound.

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POSITIVE AND NEGATIVE, CAPABILITY AND FUNCTIONING

In the human case, there is a traditional distinction between positive and negative duties that it seems important to call into question. Traditional moralities hold that we have a strict duty not to commit aggression and fraud, but we have no correspondingly strict duty to stop hunger or disease, nor to give money to promote their cessation. [14]

The capabilities approach calls this distinction into question. All the human capabilities require affirmative support, usually including state action. This is just as true of protecting property and personal security as it is of health care, just as true of the political and civil liberties as it is of providing adequate shelter.

In the case of animals, unlike the human case, there might appear to be some room for a positive-negative distinction that makes some sense. It seems at least coherent to say that the human community has the obligation to refrain from certain egregious harms toward animals, but that it is not obliged to support the welfare of all animals, in the sense of ensuring them adequate food, shelter, and health care. The animals themselves have the rest of the task of ensuring their own flourishing.

There is much plausibility in this contention. And certainly if our political principles simply ruled out the many egregious forms of harm to animals, they would have done quite a lot. But the contention, and the distinction it suggests, cannot be accepted in full. First of all, large numbers of animals live under humans’ direct control: domestic animals, farm animals, and those members of wild species that are in zoos or other forms of captivity. Humans have direct responsibility for the nutrition and health care of these animals, as even our defective current systems of law acknowledge. [15] Animals in the wild appear to go their way unaffected by human beings. But of course that can hardly be so in many cases in today’s world. Human beings pervasively affect the habitats of animals, determining opportunities for nutrition, free movement, and other aspects of flourishing.

Thus, while we may still maintain that one primary area of human responsibility to animals is that of refraining from a whole range of bad acts (to be discussed shortly), we cannot plausibly stop there. The only questions should be how extensive our duties are, and how to balance them against appropriate respect for the autonomy of a species.

In the human case, one way in which the approach respects autonomy is to focus on capability, and not functioning, as the legitimate political goal. But paternalistic treatment (which aims at functioning rather than capability) is warranted wherever the individual’s capacity for choice and autonomy is compromised (thus, for children and the severely mentally disabled). This principle suggests that paternalism is usually appropriate when we are dealing with non-human animals. That conclusion, however, should be qualified by our previous endorsement of the idea that species autonomy, in pursuit of flourishing, is part of the good for non-human animals. How, then, should the two principles be combined, and can they be coherently combined? I believe that they can be combined, if we adopt a type of paternalism that is highly sensitive to the different forms of flourishing that different species pursue. It is no use saying that we should just let tigers flourish in their own way, given that human activity ubiquitously affects the possibilities for tigers to flourish. This being the case, the only decent alternative to complete neglect of tiger flourishing is a policy that thinks carefully about the flourishing of tigers and what habitat that requires, and then tries hard to create such habitats. In the case of domestic animals, an intelligent paternalism would encourage training, discipline, and even, where appropriate, strenuous training focused on special excellences of a breed (such as the border collie or the hunter-jumper). But the animal, like a child, will retain certain entitlements, which they hold regardless of what their human guardian thinks about it. They are not merely objects for human beings’ use and control.

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TOWARD BASIC POLITICAL PRINCIPLES: THE CAPABILITIES LIST

It is now time to see whether we can actually use the human basis of the capabilities approach to map out some basic political principles that will guide law and public policy in dealing with animals. The list I have defended as useful in the human case is as follows:

The Central Human Capabilities

Being able to live to the end of a human life of normal length; not dying prematurely, or before one’s life is so reduced as to be not worth living.

Bodily Health. Being able to have good health, including reproductive health; to be adequately nourished; to have adequate shelter.

Bodily Integrity. Being able to move freely from place to place; to be secure against violent assault, including sexual assault and domestic violence; having opportunities for sexual satisfaction and for choice in matters of reproduction.

Senses, Imagination, and Thought. Being able to use the senses, to imagine, think, and reason—and to do these things in a ―truly human‖ way, a way informed and cultivated by an adequate education, including, but by no means limited to, literacy and basic mathematical and scientific training. Being able to use imagination and thought in connection with experiencing and producing works and events of one’s own choice, religious, literary, musical, and so forth. Being able to use one’s mind in ways protected by guarantees of freedom of expression with respect to both political and artistic speech, and freedom of religious exercise. Being able to have pleasurable experiences and to avoid non-beneficial pain.

Emotions. Being able to have attachments to things and people outside ourselves; to love those who love and care for us and to grieve at their absence; in general, to love, to grieve, to experience longing, gratitude, and justified anger. Not having one’s emotional development blighted by fear and anxiety. (Supporting this capability means supporting forms of human association that can be shown to be crucial to our development.)

Practical Reason. Being able to form a conception of the good and to engage in critical reflection about the planning of one’s life. (This entails protection for the liberty of conscience and religious observance.)

Affiliation. (A) Being able to live with and toward others, to recognize and show concern for other human beings, to engage in various forms of social interaction; to be able to imagine the situation of another. (Protecting this capability means protecting institutions that constitute and nourish such forms of affiliation, and also protecting the freedom of assembly and political speech.) (B) Having the social bases of self-respect and non-humiliation; being able to be treated as a dignified being whose worth is equal to that of others. (This entails provisions of non-discrimination on the basis of race, sex, sexual orientation, ethnicity, caste, religion, national origin.)

Other Species. Being able to live with concern for and in relation to animals, plants, and the world of nature.

Play. Being able to laugh, to play, to enjoy recreational activities.

Control over One’s Environment. (A) Political. Being able to participate effectively in political choices that govern one’s life; having the right of political participation; protections of free speech and association. (B) Material. Being able to hold property (both land and movable goods), and having property rights on an equal basis with others; having the right to seek employment on an equal basis with others; having the freedom from unwarranted search and seizure. In work, being able to work as a human being, exercising practical reason and entering into meaningful relationships of mutual recognition with other workers.

Although the entitlements of animals are species specific, the main large categories of the existing list, suitably fleshed out, turn out to be a good basis for a sketch of some basic political principles.

In the capabilities approach, all animals are entitled to continue their lives, whether or not they have such a conscious interest. All sentient animals have a secure entitlement against gratuitous killing for sport. Killing for luxury items such as fur falls in this category, and should be banned. On the other hand, intelligently respectful paternalism supports euthanasia for elderly animals in pain. In the middle are the very difficult cases, such as the question of predation to control populations, and the question of killing for food. The reason these cases are so difficult is that animals will die anyway in nature, and often more painfully. Painless predation might well be preferable to allowing the animal to be torn to bits in the wild or starved through overpopulation. As for food, the capabilities approach agrees with utilitarianism in being most troubled by the torture of living animals. If animals were really killed in a painless fashion, after a healthy and free-ranging life, what then? Killings of extremely young animals would still be problematic, but it seems unclear that the balance of considerations supports a complete ban on killings for food.

Bodily Health. One of the most central entitlements of animals is the entitlement to a healthy life. Where animals are directly under human control, it is relatively clear what policies this entails: laws banning cruel treatment and neglect; laws banning the confinement and ill treatment of animals in the meat and fur industries; laws forbidding harsh or cruel treatment for working animals, including circus animals; laws regulating zoos and aquariums, mandating adequate nutrition and space. Many of these laws already exist, although they are not well enforced. The striking asymmetry in current practice is that animals being raised for food are not protected in the way other animals are protected. This asymmetry must be eliminated.

Bodily Integrity. This goes closely with the preceding. Under the capabilities approach, animals have direct entitlements against violations of their bodily integrity by violence, abuse, and other forms of harmful treatment—whether or not the treatment in question is painful. Thus the declawing of cats would probably be banned under this rubric, on the grounds that it prevents the cat from flourishing in its own characteristic way, even though it may be done in a painfree manner and cause no subsequent pain. On the other hand, forms of training that, though involving discipline, equip the animal to manifest excellences that are part of its characteristic capabilities profile would not be eliminated.

Senses, Imagination, and Thought. For humans, this capability creates a wide range of entitlements: to appropriate education, to free speech and artistic expression, to the freedom of religion. It also includes a more general entitlement to pleasurable experiences and the avoidance of non-beneficial pain. By now it ought to be rather obvious where the latter point takes us in thinking about animals: toward laws banning harsh, cruel, and abusive treatment and ensuring animals’ access to sources of pleasure, such as free movement in an environment that stimulates and pleases the senses. The freedom-related part of this capability has no precise analogue, and yet we can come up with appropriate analogues in the case of each type of animal, by asking what choices and areas of freedom seem most important to each. Clearly this reflection would lead us to reject close confinement and to regulate the places in which animals of all kinds are kept for spaciousness, light and shade, and the variety of opportunities they offer the animals for a range of characteristic activities. Again, the capabilities approach seems superior to utilitarianism in its ability to recognize such entitlements, for few animals will have a conscious interest, as such, in variety and space.

Emotions. Animals have a wide range of emotions. All or almost all sentient animals have fear. Many animals can experience anger, resentment, gratitude, grief, envy, and joy. A small number—those who are capable of perspectival thinking—can experience compassion. [16] Like human beings, they are entitled to lives in which it is open to them to have attachments to others, to love and care for others, and not to have those attachments warped by enforced isolation or the deliberate infliction of fear. We understand well what this means where our cherished domestic animals are in question. Oddly, we do not extend the same consideration to animals we think of as ―wild. Until recently, zoos took no thought for the emotional needs of animals, and animals being used for research were often treated with gross carelessness in this regard, being left in isolation and confinement when they might easily have had decent emotional lives. [17]

Practical Reason. In each case, we need to ask to what extent the creature has a capacity to frame goals and projects and to plan its life. To the extent that this capacity is present, it ought to be supported, and this support requires many of the same policies already suggested by capability 4: plenty of room to move around, opportunities for a variety of activities.

Affiliation. In the human case, this capability has two parts: an interpersonal part (being able to live with and toward others) and a more public part, focused on self-respect and non-humiliation. It seems to me that the same two parts are pertinent for non-human animals. Animals are entitled to opportunities to form attachments (as in capability 5) and to engage in characteristic forms of bonding and interrelationship. They are also entitled to relations with humans, where humans enter the picture, that are rewarding and reciprocal, rather than tyrannical. At the same time, they are entitled to live in a world public culture that respects them and treats them as dignified beings. This entitlement does not just mean protecting them from instances of humiliation that they will feel as painful. The capabilities approach here extends more broadly than utilitarianism, holding that animals are entitled to world policies that grant them political rights and the legal status of dignified beings, whether they understand that status or not.

Other Species. If human beings are entitled to ―be able to live with concern for and in relation to animals, plants, and the world of nature,‖ so too are other animals, in relation to species not their own, including the human species, and the rest of the natural world. This capability, seen from both the human and the animal side, calls for the gradual formation of an interdependent world in which all species will enjoy cooperative and mutually supportive relations with one another. Nature is not that way and never has been. So it calls, in a very general way, for the gradual supplanting of the natural by the just.

Play. This capability is obviously central to the lives of all sentient animals. It calls for many of the same policies we have already discussed: provision of adequate space, light, and sensory stimulation in living places, and, above all, the presence of other species members.

Control over One’s Environment. In the human case, this capability has two prongs, the political and the material. The political is defined in terms of active citizenship and rights of political participation. For non-human animals, the important thing is being part of a political conception that is framed so as to respect them and that is committed to treating them justly. It is important, however, that animals have entitlements directly, so that a human guardian has standing to go to court, as with children, to vindicate those entitlements. On the material side, for non-human animals, the analogue to property rights is respect for the territorial integrity of their habitats, whether domestic or in the wild.

Are there animal capabilities not covered by this list, suitably specified? It seems to me not, although in the spirit of the capabilities approach we should insist that the list is open-ended, subject to supplementation or deletion.

In general, the capabilities approach suggests that it is appropriate for nations to include in their constitutions or other founding statements of principle a commitment to animals as subjects of political justice and a commitment that animals will be treated with dignity. The constitution might also spell out some of the very general principles suggested by this capabilities list. The rest of the work of protecting animal entitlements might be done by suitable legislation and by court cases demanding the enforcement of the law, where it is not enforced. At the same time, many of the issues covered by this approach cannot be dealt with by nations in isolation, but can only be addressed by international cooperation. So we also need international accords committing the world community to the protection of animal habitats and the eradication of cruel practices.

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THE INELIMINABILITY OF CONFLICT

In the human case, we often face the question of conflict between one capability and another. But if the capabilities list and its thresholds are suitably designed, we ought to say that the presence of conflict between one capability and another is a sign that society has gone wrong somewhere. [18] We should focus on long-term planning that will create a world in which all the capabilities can be secured to all citizens.

Our world contains persistent and often tragic conflicts between the well-being of human beings and the well-being of animals. Some bad treatment of animals can be eliminated without serious losses in human wellbeing: Such is the case with the use of animals for fur, and the brutal and confining treatment of animals used for food. The use of animals for food in general is a much more difficult case, since nobody really knows what the impact on the world environment would be of a total switch to vegetarian sources of protein, or the extent to which such a diet could be made compatible with the health of all the world’s children. A still more difficult problem is the use of animals in research.

A lot can be done to improve the lives of research animals without stopping useful research. As Steven Wise has shown, primates used in research often live in squalid, lonely conditions while they are used as medical subjects. This of course is totally unnecessary and morally unacceptable and could be ended without ending the research. Some research that is done is unnecessary and can be terminated, for example, the testing of cosmetics on rabbits, which seems to have been bypassed without loss of quality by some cosmetic firms. But much important research with major consequences for the life and health of human beings and other animals will inflict disease, pain, and death on at least some animals, even under the best conditions.

I do not favor stopping all such research. What I do favor is (a) asking whether the research is really necessary for a major human capability; (b) focusing on the use of less-complex sentient animals where possible, on the grounds that they suffer fewer and lesser harms from such research; (c) improving the conditions of research animals, including palliative terminal care when they have contracted a terminal illness, and supportive interactions with both humans and other animals; (d) removing the psychological brutality that is inherent in so much treatment of animals for research; (e) choosing topics cautiously and seriously, so that no animal is harmed for a frivolous reason; and (f) a constant effort to develop experimental methods (for example, computer simulations) that do not have these bad consequences.

Above all, it means constant public discussion of these issues, together with an acknowledgment that such uses of animals in research are tragic, violating basic entitlements. Such public acknowledgments are far from useless. They state what is morally true, and thus acknowledge the dignity of animals and our own culpability toward them. They reaffirm dispositions to behave well toward them where no such urgent exigencies intervene. Finally, they prompt us to seek a world in which the pertinent research could in fact be done in other ways.

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TOWARD A TRULY GLOBAL JUSTICE

It has been obvious for a long time that the pursuit of global justice requires the inclusion of many people and groups who were not previously included as fully equal subjects of justice: the poor; members of religious, ethnic, and racial minorities; and more recently women, the disabled, and inhabitants of nations distant from one’s own.

But a truly global justice requires not simply that we look across the world for other fellow species members who are entitled to a decent life. It also requires looking around the world at the other sentient beings with whose lives our own are inextricably and complexly intertwined. Traditional contractarian approaches to the theory of justice did not and, in their very form, could not confront these questions as questions of justice. Utilitarian approaches boldly did so, and they deserve high praise. But in the end, I have argued, utilitarianism is too homogenizing—both across lives and with respect to the heterogeneous constituents of each life—to provide us with an adequate theory of animal justice. The capabilities approach, which begins from an ethically attuned wonder before each form of animal life, offers a model that does justice to the complexity of animal lives and their strivings for flourishing. Such a model seems an important part of a fully global theory of justice.

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NOTES

This essay derives from my Tanner Lectures in 2003 and is published by courtesy of the University of Utah Press and the Trustees of the Tanner Lectures on Human Values.

The incident is discussed in Pliny Nat. Hist. 8.7.20–21, Cicero Ad Fam. 7.1.3; see also Dio Cassius Hist. 39, 38, 2–4. See the discussion in Richard Sorabji, Animal Minds and Human Morals: The Origins of the Western Debate (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1993), 124–125.

For this approach, see Martha C. Nussbaum, Women and Human Development (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), and ―Capabilities as Fundamental Entitlements: Sen and Social Justice, Feminist Economics 9 (2003): 33–59. The approach was pioneered by Amartya Sen within economics, and is used by him in some rather different ways, without a definite commitment to a normative theory of justice.

All references are to John Rawls, A Theory of Justice (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1971), hereafter TJ.

Rawls himself makes the comparison at TJ 12; his analogue to the state of nature is the equality of the parties in the Original Position.

See the analysis in Martha C. Nussbaum, Upheavals of Thought: The Intelligence of Emotions (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), ch. 6; thus far the analysis is uncontroversial, recapitulating a long tradition of analysis.

See Amartya Sen and Bernard Williams, introduction to Utilitarianism and Beyond (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 3–4.

See the comment by Nussbaum in Goodness and Advice, Judith Jarvis Thomson’s Tanner Lectures (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2000), discussing work along these lines by Amartya Sen and others.

Briefly put, my worries are those of Rawls in Political Liberalism (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996), who points out that it is illiberal for political principles to contain any comprehensive account of what is best. Instead, political principles should be committed to a partial set of ethical norms endorsed for political purposes, leaving it to citizens to fill out the rest of the ethical picture in accordance with their own comprehensive conceptions of value, religious or secular. Thus I would be happy with a partial political consequentialism, but not with comprehensive consequentialism, as a basis for political principles.

Martin Seligman, Helplessness: On Development, Depression, and Death (New York: Freeman, 1975).

Here I agree with Thomson (who is thinking mostly about Moore); see Goodness and Advice.

Peter Singer, ―Animals and the Value of Life,‖ in Matters of Life and Death: New Introductory Essays on Moral Philosophy, ed. Tom Regan (New York: Random House, 1980), 356.

James Rachels, Created from Animals: The Moral Implications of Darwinism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990).

Daniel B. Botkin, ―Adjusting Law to Nature’s Discordant Harmonies,‖ Duke Environmental Law and Policy Forum 7 (1996): 25–37.

See the critique by Martha Nussbaum in ―Duties of Justice, Duties of Material Aid: Cicero’s Problematic Legacy,‖ Journal of Political Philosophy 7 (1999): 1–31.

The laws do not cover all animals, in particular, not animals who are going to be used for food or fur.

On all this, see Nussbaum, Upheavals of Thought, ch. 2.

See Steven Wise, Rattling the Cage: Toward Legal Rights for Animals (Cambridge, Mass.: Perseus, 2000), ch. 1.

See Martha C. Nussbaum, ―The Costs of Tragedy: Some Moral Implications of Cost-Benefit Analysis,‖ in Cost-Benefit Analysis, ed. Matthew D. Adler and Eric A. Posner (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001), 169–200.

[dailyaudiobible]

02/01/2021 DAB Transcript

Exodus 13:17-15:18, Matt 21:23-46, Ps 26:1-12, Pr 6:16-19

Today is the 1st day of February, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian and it's great to be here with you today. Obviously it’s a special day because we’re transitioning into the second month of the year, but it’s a special day because we've completed a whole month together, which means we are settling into a rhythm and we are settling into community for the year. It's…it’s interesting. If we…we make it to Valentine's Day, then the chances are really good that we are going to make it through the year together. And, so, well done for making it all the way here to the second month of the year. Let’s just take a second to think back. It's only been a month, but look at all that has happened. We…we found our origin story. We discussed that. We found out in the third chapter of Genesis what happened to us. We know this is the fall of man. We…we saw the repercussions of that immediately, both in the world and in the human heart. Mankind was naked and unashamed. That was the natural state of things. That’s how it was supposed to be both inward and outward week. We weren’t supposed to have to hide. We weren’t supposed to have hide from each other or from God. But that's what happened, naked and ashamed and hiding. And that's what we see everywhere we look, including in the mirror. And, so, we got some context. And we went through famous stories that we've probably heard our whole lives, like Noah and the flood. And we then met this man Abram and God calling this man Abram to a land he didn't know and giving a promise for this land and changing his name to Abraham and entering into a covenant with him. And then we watched the miraculous story begin to unfold as generations passed to new generations and more and more children were born. And, so, Abraham has Isaac. Isaac as Jacob. And we hear this often in the Bible, “the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.” And then Jacob's name was changed to Israel. And all the sudden we have a context for what we hear about the children of Israel. The children of Jacob and his offspring, the children of Israel. And we watched the story of Joseph at length, one of the children of Israel, who was trafficked by his brothers into slavery in Egypt. We watched God save Egypt from plague, saving Joseph's family in the process. And then we watched them prosper in…in Egypt, four centuries. Like, four centuries, but they were enslaved and then we met another powerful pivotal figure in the Scriptures named Moses, who was sent back to Egypt to be the…the prophet of God and to demand the freedom of God's people. And that brought on all these plagues that we’ve been reading about the last few days. And that's where we find ourselves. The final plague has descended upon Egypt. The…the children of Israel have been forcibly forced out of Egypt. And that's where we pick up the story as we begin this second month of the year. And we’re reading from the Voice Translation this week. Exodus chapter 13 verse 17 through 15 verse 18.

Commentary:

Okay. A few things we should probably take note of from our reading today because they will help us with our day and our week and this brand-new shiny sparkly month that we find ourselves in. Let's go to the book of Exodus first. The children of Israel have been set free from the bondage of slavery in Egypt. And we watched all of that unfold plague after plague after plague sort of systematically dismantling Egypt. And Pharaoh's arrogance in believing that he is a deity, that he is divine, that he is a God himself, and who is this Hebrew God that would come. And you can kinda get in his head and understand why he would think this. If he has been raised to believe that he is a child, a son of God, that he is the Pharaoh, like a divine being upon the earth, the king of Egypt, and he has a population of people who are his slaves and this population of people who are his slaves come and say, “our God says that you should let us go.” I mean if you think you are divine yourself then you would be thinking, “well, at bare minimum you are my slaves. Whoever your God is is no way near as powerful as the gods of Egypt or me.” So, we can see him resisting and we can see God just demonstrating His power before them at first but then things definitely begin to take a more serious turn and things amp up all the way until Pharaoh and the Egyptians demand the children of Israel leave, which they did. And then we…we read something really interesting that could really help us in our lives. So, the children of Israel were freed from slavery. They entered the desert because that's…that's the way to go to the promised land, across the Sinai Peninsula, but God did not lead them by the shortest, easiest coastal route. He led them deeper into the desert. So, in other words, He set them free and did not give them any easy path, did not give them the most straightforward path. There was work to be done in that desert. And we’re in that desert now, right? They’ve crossed the Red Sea and they are on the other side of the Red Sea, but they are in the desert and they are going to be there, and we are going to be there with them for what feels like an awful long time, 40 years to be specific. Actually, even more than that. And, so, we’ll be spending some time in the desert. And this is our desert portion of the year and we need to embrace it because there are so many lessons in the wilderness. And I mean that metaphorically in our lives, but I also mean that literally in the stories that we’ll find in the Bible that come from the wilderness. So, the children of Israel are in the wilderness backed up to the Red Sea when they notice that an army is coming against them. And the closer that tis army gets the more they realize these are the Egyptians. This is the Egyptian Army coming to destroy us and re-enslave. Of course, the Egyptians and Pharaoh after they…after they let the people go, they start imagining the repercussions. This is going to be devastating to their economy because now you have…you have about a million people that are your slaves that have been propping things up that you've set free. And, so, they’re reconsidering and hardening their hearts again. And they’re gonna go back and get going back and get the Hebrew people. Meanwhile the Hebrew people are kind of boxed in. It’s the wilderness in front of them, the Red Sea, the ocean behind them and the enemy army is bearing down upon them. We could pause here and just think about seasons in our lives where we have felt trapped and boxed in, like where there is literally no good way to go. The enemy is coming down against us. It’s the sea behind us and the mountains and the wilderness before us. There is no way to escape. And, so, the Hebrew people do basically what we would normally do. They start to complain and gripe about the predicament they’re in because now God has come to set them free and things have only gotten worse again. Do you see a theme emerging, though? Is this not the story of Joseph where when he did everything right things only got worse? So, they're ready to abandon Moses, see if they can maybe go back to Egypt and become slaves again because that might be better. While here's this army that’s gonna destroy them. They are trapped. And God speaks to Moses and Moses speaks to the people. The only thing you need to do is shut your mouth and watch this. This enemy that you see today you will never see them again. And that is indeed what happened. And that is indeed something that we should put in our pocket or purse and carry around with us for the next year.

Then we move into the book of Matthew. The religious leadership, we are talking about the clergy, right? We are talking about men of God who are leading the people are getting pretty fed up with Jesus. God in flesh. Like, they do not believe. And, so, they confront Jesus about how…who gave Him permission to do what He's doing. And, of course, as we have come to notice in the first month of the year Jesus is always going to speak to the truth of the situation. He’s always good to talk to the plot behind the story. He knows that what's being presented is a mask, that everyone is naked and ashamed and hiding. And, so, He's like, “well, let me ask you a question.” And He talks about John because they didn't believe in John either. And, so, Jesus ends up telling the story about a man who had a vineyard and he fixed it all up and got it ready for business, and then he leased it and went away and when a  harvest time came he wanted his share of the harvest, but the tenants refused became rebellious, beat up the people who came to collect the harvest on a number of occasions until the master sent is heir, his son to come and collect because he's the heir, he that…he's the owner. And, so, they should respect the owner of the vineyard but they don't. They conspire to kill him, which is what they do. And then Jesus asks the religious leadership what the Masters gonna do. And they immediately answer, “the master is gonna destroy those people.” They were speaking out their own future essentially, because in the story the vineyard is the Kingdom, and the master is the Father, and the Son is Jesus. And this story is an interesting warning about religious dominance. When religion is used to ensnare or entrap or control people then there is no value in it. That might sound bigger than it should. But it's simply the story that's coming out of all of the Gospels. The people that were against Jesus were the people of God, God's leaders who did not recognize that God was doing a new thing in the world and did everything to destroy that new thing including...including killing God, including killing Jesus. God made flesh. So, we should get some clues that this journey we are on as we walk alongside Jesus and listen to what He has to say and watch the away that He operates and observe His character that we may find a bunch of challenges, that we may need to listen to Jesus instead of what we've been told about Him, that we might need to press in closer and deeper as we watch the amazing and that's an understatement…the amazing thing that God had chose to do when He chose to come and rescue people again from slavery. Slavery to the oppressiveness of what was going on around them in their culture and slavery to sin. And we also may need to understand that when we become free we may not be taking the easy road. We may need to go into the wilderness because there is work to do there.

Prayer:

Jesus, we invite You into that because it doesn't sound like it would be fun. We don’t want to go wander in the wilderness. We felt like we did that all year last year. And yet the thing You are after is our freedom. And we confess that even as we see it in the Scriptures, we see it in our own lives. We fight You on that because it might be hard, it might be difficult. We might have to endure. It may get more difficult, before it gets easier and we don't like that. We don't like that. And yet You've been very clear all along that there is a narrow path that leads to life and that that is the path that leads to life and few ever find it, but wide is the road to destruction, the easy path. And, so, as we move into this second month, we are inviting Your Holy Spirit to begin to align us with where You're going, to begin aiming us in the direction we need to head in no matter what it looks like because we as the children of Israel are going to have to learn that there is no other hope outside of You. You are the only hope there is and we must trust You utterly. Come Holy Spirit we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

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And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi, my DAB family this is Truly Thankful Taylor just wanted to say hi tonight. I have three of my little ones with me…2 littles and one teenager. Girls do you wanna say hi? Hi. We've been talking about our reading for today in DAB Kids and Chronological and all the different stuff 'cause all of our family are doing different ones. Some of us are doing all five in English. Some of us are just doing Chronological or kids and we're just loving God's word even more but we were talking about having faith as small as a mustard seed that it can move mountains. So, each…two of the girls wanted to pray tonight. So, sister do you want to start? What did you want to share? That people would have faith in God and that people would love God even more and let Him be in their heart. Jesus thank you for the day. Thank you for everything you have done. Thank you for being our God. And I want to…I want people to let you into their heart. In Jesus’ name. Amen. OK sister. Jesus thank you for the day that we have faith in us and faith in Jesus and that everyone starts praying and those who don't pray now pray. And have Jesus where? In our faith, in their heart. That's right. We pray all this in Jesus name. Amen. Love and blessings everybody. Bye. Bye. Bye.  

Hi, my name is Luanne from Texas. I just want to say thanks. This journey so far has been so good and so revealing. It's been so wonderful to watch the creation and then the de-creation and with the New Testament seeing what the recreation could be. I'm just so grateful. I'm grateful for Brian for this. I'm grateful to the community who’s reading it along with me and it's just been so healing after 2020. I'm just so grateful. So, Lord I just ask that for those who are weary, come. Come to the Bible. Sit with us and learn and you will find much joy. I ask this in our most holy savior's name, Jesus. Amen.

Good morning fellow DABbers this is Sally in Massachusetts Amazed by Grace it's January 27th and I am so thankful this morning that I listened as I do most every day to the DAB and so blessed by the word of God and so encouraged today as we read of Moses and Aaron and pharaoh and the people, how God works through everyone to carry out His plans and purposes. He worked through pharaoh. He worked through Moses. He worked through Moses mother and father. He accomplishes purposes through people and He's accomplishing His purposes in and through each of us day by day as we yield to Him. And I'm just so thankful that we worship a God of power, a God of a plan, a God with purposes. And I am so thankful that we have this family to worship God together, to encourage and strengthen each other. Thank you, Daughter of the King from Tennessee. I so appreciated your prayers and your thoughts today. And Pamela from Pennsylvania how easy it is. I have also often been guided by fear instead of faith in making decisions. And dear brother McQueen from Utah. Lord we pray Your comfort to this family. Thank You for Betsy Lopez and the wonderful grandma she was to him. We pray Your comfort to this family at this time. And Lord we thank You that although world at times feels like it's out of control You are God alone from before time began and You are on Your throne because You are God alone. Increase our faith in You Lord we pray and thank You in Jesus’ powerful name.

Hello Daily Audio Bible my name is Gail and I'm calling from Las Vegas. I'm calling in response to a boy that just called in about his grandma, Grandma Lopez who was in a car accident and he wanted to get the word out to us about his grandma. I am so proud of you for the courage that you showed to call in and let us know what happened to your grandma. I felt that you two had an amazing relationship and you were so close. And I bet you miss her. I really know that you miss her because you wanted to make a lasting memory and let us know that she died, and it was important to you to get the word out. So, I applaud your courage sweet boy and I just wanted to say that we hear you and we are praying for you. Keep calling in. Keep calling in. We love to hear from you. Bye for now.

Good morning Daily Audio Bible I'm calling in to speak to Golda McQueen. Young man your courage to send in the message to speak to the people about your grandmother and her legacy of love in your life touched my heart in so many ways to remember my own grandmother. I want to know not only Betsy Lopez will be remembered today for her own life but for the life that she poured into you. And I just want to encourage you with two verses that I thought of when I heard you speaking. Exodus 4:12. So, go Golda. I will be with you. When you speak and I will give you the words to say. And in Acts Jesus himself came to Paul and encouraged him to keep speaking. He said in acts 18 9 and 10 during the night Paul had a vision and the Lord said to him don't be afraid and don't stop talking to people I am with you and no one will be able to hurt you. Many of my people are in the city. Heavenly Father I pray You pour out a triple blessing upon Golda McQueen as he goes to the funeral of his grandmother whom he loved so much and wants her to be remembered and it made such an impact to remember my own grandmother I know prayed for me, but I never got to grow up with her. So, I…I thank you Golda. You have touched my heart in ways you'll never know until we see each other in heaven. God bless you son.

Hello, my name is Richard today is my first day listening in several years. I just listened to February 27th recording that I was blessed by. Some of you may remember I was Richard from Mississippi back in 2018 I went through a divorce. I moved back home to Arkansas. That’s where I stay at now. I work for my dad part time. I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm trying to get back into reading the word and listening to DAB every morning. So, I covet your prayers that you would pray for me as I establish a new habit and to know the Lord. Bless each and every one of you in Jesus’ name.

Good morning this is Radiant Faith in Georgia. I'm listening on January the 27th and I just heard a young man from Nevada I believe his name was Golda McQueen. He's nine years old and he was on his way…I hope I can get this out. He was on his way to his grandma's funeral. I'm a grandma and this just really touched my heart, the love that he had for her. He said that it's hard to get messages out from where he lives and he's only nine years old but let me tell you something, we heard you loud and clear. We heard the love that you had for your grandma and I just pray, and I believe that Jesus let her hear you. Oh, Lord I know she was proud of you.