#illiteracy all around

[mxtxfanatic]

what are ur fandom dos or don't? is there a preferred way you like to interact (canon vs fanon)?

is fanon ever appealing to you? ngl for me i dislike fanon especially when it tends to take on ooc vibes + feels so far removed from the actual story and characters. obv everyone has their own interpretations + headcanons but i don't think that means all are equally valid esp when not grounded in the story, facts and authors intentions they came from. probs why i think thr authour is dead mindset is weak coping lol

My fandom do’s and don’t’s is that 1) you shouldn’t be an asshole just to antagonize someone with different opinions than you, 2) if you don’t enjoy the source material and also have no real critique of it, then participating in the fandom should not be a thing you do, and 3) all bigots in fandom should be relentlessly called out and mercilessly shunned. Your tolerance should never encompass bigots, because their bigotry will always show in the things they say, do, and create.

As for fanon vs. canon, I think people should do what they want and consume what they want, but they should make this very clear. For instance, I don’t care that people like a fanon version of Jiang Cheng; what I care about is the inane insistence that this is “canon” and that anyone who says otherwise must be bullied out of the fandom. Back when I marginally cared about the MCU in its early days, I liked fanon!Loki, but I made it clear that this was a critique of the source material (the first Thor movie) and how its conclusions and audience takeaways contradicted what the narration actually showed. I still live in a Naruto lalaland where Naruto and Sasuke are a good dads and Sasusaku are a loving couple because I hate what the creator did with the sequel series. It is what it is, but that doesn’t mean that my feelings supersede what the creator made, even if I disagree with them. It’s not my work, and my disagreement is not a “valid interpretation.” It’s just disagreement. Accept that the version of the character/events you like is ooc/fanon, correctly tag your wants as fanon/ooc, and stop tryna argue that you know better than the creator or that you know their secret intentions on the matter because you feel like your fantasies are only acceptable once they’ve been “legitimized” by an authority figure.

Also, maybe unpopular opinion, but I believe that if you’ve never engaged with the source material of the fandom, you should have some shame and show some humility by not jumping into fandom discourse over things you’ve only heard about secondhand through the mouths of popular bloggers. Reblog your pretty art in silence, and stick to the walls.

[spacedlexi]

media literacy is the next term getting put on the shelf

[loveaankilaq]

Talking about music on this website is so funny, you get the most tasteless white people ever on here who have given themselves "allergic to rap" diagnoses. I still remember also that one person who said that hated any song over 3 minutes like.

[medicinemane]

Hey, sidenote kind of unrelated to anything else, but if I ever use a word you don't know or talk about something where you've just got no idea what I'm saying, you're always welcome to ask

Like I've said before, I've run into case where I'll see people I think are pretty smart not knowing a word that I thought was super common

So like, vocabulary has nothing to do with intelligence, we just run into different words through out our lives; so if I'm using something you don't know there's nothing wrong with asking me what it means (especially cause there's a non zero chance it's some made up word from a book series or something)

[bethanydelleman]

Edit: Turning off reblogs on this post since I've been told it contains misinformation. Also, someone reblogged it with a huge rant and blocked me (as far as I can tell), leaving me unable to reply and with only partial notes and that freaks me out.

So I was telling someone about my boy, Sejong the Great of Joeson, who deserves that title "great" since he was so concerned about illiteracy that he created the easy-to-learn Korean alphabet (Hangul) by himself, but then the nobility got mad about all these reading peasants and tried to ban it. And my friend says, "Oh, I thought illiterate poor people in the past were just lazy."

And I was like, "No, no, you don't want your indentured servants and peasants reading and figuring out how much you are screwing them over. The adapted Chinese characters that Korea had been using took years to learn so it was a natural gatekeeper of knowledge."

And then, because one must be fair, I went on to explain how Europeans locked up their knowledge behind Latin, especially the Bible, and how it was so important that Martin Luther translated it into everyday German, because once you can read the Bible yourself, you can challenge the almost absolute power of the church. Only the rich could afford to learn Latin, so only the rich could read the book that their entire society was allegedly based around.

I do think things are much better today, but why are most scientific papers paywalled and scientists sometimes act as if they should be treated like infallible priests...

Edit: I wanted to end this post on a happy note, but then I started thinking about paywalls and it made me a bit depressed. We still do make our best knowledge less accessible to the average person and I hope we can do more to change that.

[dotthings]

You know who I feel sad for right now is Misha, because I think he wanted to be able to speak much much earlier than he was able to about Cas’s confession. We know he drafted an essay about Cas’s coming out…and then wound up not publishing it. Misha deserved to be able to talk about it in interviews the way Oliver Stark is able to about Buck. Misha mentioned it on zoom calls, briefly. And then it seems like he got yanked back by the PR machine and the nature of Cas’s confession wasn’t discussed on any SPN PR materials and for a time Misha was restricted on what he could say on CE Con stages.

At first, back then, for a few glorious days, I thought the stigma about queer Cas, about Destiel, had been lifted, finally, and then WB/CW brought the restrictions back down via PR. Oh you can have your confession scene, SPN, but corporate will control the narrative on how it’s spoken about or not.

We saw this thaw over time. (Anyone who claims otherwise or that Misha was always able to be open about it, is lying). Now Misha can speak openly about it and that shift began around the time when Chaos Machine really set up shop and changed a few con policies. So I’m happy for Misha that he can speak only about Cas being queer and what the confession means and Cas coming out, but he still has yet to be able to speak in depth about it in major PR. The openness about it comes out on con stage. At first it was non-CE Cons. Then finally he was more able to speak freely on CE Con stages.

Which leads me to another point, which is that, in fact, any of us who thought Cas was supposed to be in the series finale? We were right all along. The PR Misha filmed meant to mislead and misdirect about his last episode…PR misdirect to cover up so it could be a surprise, which makes sense and is sometimes how PR is run. Remember that the production shutdowns of the pandemic happened during the first days of filming 15.19. We found out eventually Dean and Cas were planned to be seen at the Roadhouse bar in Heaven together.

When they filmed 15.18 everyone thought Cas would at least cameo in 15.20. During the filming of 15.18 nobody directly involved knew how far Cas would be shoved out of the story, the actors didn’t know, the writer didn’t know, the director didn’t know, how far 15.20 would be stripped back, no one knew how reduced even mere mentions would be in 15.20.

I’ve talked about this before but a reminder how screwed the spn creatives who worked on 15.18 were, how screwed over the actors were.

You were right. If you thought that there was going to be at least some satisfaction and closure and Cas was going to have one more appearance before the end and it wouldn’t be able to be loud open canon, but something that implied mutual canon Destiel.

We were right. We were right all along.

Antis on twitter dot com can keep scratching and clawing and harassing and gaslighting and spewing phobic comments, denying what Jensen’s views are and dening that corporate censorship is real and that bi Dean is canonical via queer coding and queer Cas is now loud open canon and Destiel is mutual, via canon queer coding. Won’t change what happened here or that the intent was so, so much better and more than what 15.20 delivered, and the reason it fell apart was the production shutdown gave some parties high up too much time to think and then interfere and cut Cas out.

There is no more room to indulge media illiteracy and malicious denialism and trolling from antis.

[inzsanewrites]

Read to Me

Ever Crisis!Sephiroth X SOLDIER! Reader

⚠️: Professor Hojo mention, Reader is illiterate and the same age as Ever Crisis Sephiroth

♥︎♡──────────────────♡♥︎

“Mr. Genesis, can you read this to me?”

“…”

“Just one chapter?”

“…”

Despite all your pleading begging and bargaining, Genesis remained fixated on the Loveless book in his hand, not even uttering a word to you despite your hours of persistence. Frustrated, you stared at him for a while before sighing and inevitably leaving.

Walking to the training simulation you couldn’t help yourself from lamenting of the book in your hand. The cover was pretty with all the thorns, roses, and trees on it but if someone asked you the title you couldn’t even answer. However it truly wasn’t your fault.

From the moment your eyes opened in this world your very existence was tied to battle. Despite being well over a decade old, your bed remained hard due to the few times you had rested on it, often being on the battlefield or in the training room further honing your fatality. There were even days were you sat undetected in the training room watching others run through their simulations, studying their movements. There wasn’t a single peace of writing or reading material in your life.

When you had discovered this pretty book when Angeal had approached you saying it was a gift to keep you doing something other than fighting. It didn’t take him long after to notice you couldn’t you couldn’t read a single word. Further experiments revealed you couldn’t even recognize your own name.

Ever the righteous man and comrade, he took it upon himself to read the book to you when he had the time. Unfortunately, Angeal had been stationed elsewhere and you had just returned only to find the door to the training simulation locked. With nothing else to do you picked up the book. Knowing, you couldn’t read it yourself you went around asking your fellow SOLDIERS but from the way they flinched and stammered when you approached them you knew it wouldn’t be a good situation. Conceding, you went to Genesis knowing he loved the book Loveless and could probably share a chapter with you, that however went up in shambles.

Sitting by the door to the training room, you stared at the book hoping it would magically make sense.

“Y/N?”

The door opened to reveal Sephiroth, your friend, you think. There weren’t a lot of high rank SOLDIERS your age when you saw him and found he was like you, you walked up to him and declared that you two were friends without a second thought. It was something Hojo seemed… happy about that allowing you two to meet at times on certain missions.

“Hello, Sephiroth.”

He nodded, taking in your position on the floor. “Were you hoping to use the simulation?”

“No,” you pulled up the book. “I am looking for someone to read this to me.”

From the way he seemed to understand it seemed your illiteracy had spread across other SOLDIERS. You had thought that he would continue on his way, but you didn’t expect him to gesture to the training room.

“If you do not mind, then I can be of assistance.”

“Really!” You followed after him, book in hand. “Thank you!”

There was a meaningful look in his eyes, something both of you were too inexperienced and isolated to discern and detect. Maybe when you were older you both would understand what it meant.

“No problem. We are friends after all.”

[kunaigirl]

Long post ahead, but I really want to talk about this...I think? Oh lord here we go, lol. Anyways, confession time!

I struggled with illiteracy and learning to read for a chunk of my life. I've mentioned it (in passing) in this post that I made about my experiences with having epilepsy, but I decided to make an whole post just for this for a change.

Somewhere around when I was in the second grade, I lost my ability to read and write due to a bad seizure I had. (That combined with the medications I was given too.) A lot of my memories are blank from that era, except for a very few instances I remember clearly. What I do remember though, has nothing to do with the seizure or even what lead up to it, all of that's still gone to this day.

I had lost my ability to read, and also was diagnosed with dyslexia during the quest to re-learn from scratch. (On top of already being diagnosed with ADHD when I was about 6.) I remember very vividly how HORRIBLE everything felt. I couldn't remember the names of things, and I had to re-learn, from preschool up, both reading and writing from scratch.

Somewhat luckily, I didn't lose anything else besides those chunks of memories and my ability to read, and I still remembered who I was, what cartoons I liked, my favorite music, etc. But suddenly, I couldn't read the CD titles anymore. I couldn't read the VHS covers. It was gone, ripped away from me very suddenly, and I knew it was missing. I knew that I already learned how to read and write, but it was forced out of me by a malfunctioning brain. I was home schooled because of it from grades 3rd-5th. (2003-2005)

In the third grade, I had made just enough progress to get books for 5 year olds. Everyone around me acted so proud, but all I could do was cry. I was humiliated. I felt so incredibly stupid, as being illiterate leaves you with no choice but to feel stupid. I threw those baby books around my room and sat on the floor crying. It wasn't fair, I didn't do anything wrong, it was my damn seizures. I had no control.

When I went back to public school for 6th grade, I got called stupid, the r-slur, illiterate, slow, basically every name in the book. Both kids and adults, all throughout those years while I continued to re-learn in real time. In middle school, my reading level was still low for my age, and I had to be in a special program with extra assistance and teacher accommodations. As soon as word got out, the kids were RELENTLESS. It was 06-07, nobody cared about bullying/etc, especially for a public middle school. The bullying never stopped.

I kept working and studying, slowly making progress. Years of struggling, learning to cope, inventing my own short-cuts to help read a little easier, using rulers and paper edges to help guide my eyes, everything. I was still in "special" classes with accommodations all through high school too. My senior year of high school, I graduated on the honor role list. Did that make me happy? It felt nice for sure, but better? Not by much. I knew how hard I still struggled, and still felt very embarrassed by it all. I'll never forget.

As a kid, the pain I felt was so intense. Physically from the seizure, and in every other way with having to re-learn how to spell t-r-e-e. Starting over with pre-K toddler books at 7. Kindergarten level at age 8, and a first grade level as a 9 year old. The feeling of having my memories ripped away just enough to leave me unable to recognize the symbols that decorated everything from posters to TV to book covers. Being told by a room full of doctors and neurologists what had happened, and being quizzed and tested to see what I still had left.

I have never forgotten those long nights. Even though I was a child, the shame and guilt and fear I felt were VERY real and very tense. And the jokes/remarks from both kids AND adults, the notebooks filled with raw squiggly anger, the uphill climb to regain what was taken from me. I will NEVER forget it. Even in college, I struggled with those heavy textbooks and their tiny fonts. I did well enough, but no one else struggled the way I did with them. I did my work and wrote my essays, but it would take full entire days. It still does.

At times, as an adult, I still get stuck on words. I can obviously read and write again, as you can see with this exact post, but it's not over. I struggle with certain fonts, and some books are just to difficult. I still work at it and still try as hard as I can even to this very goddamn day. It never truly ended, all these years later, 20 years later, I still sometimes fight to understand. I feel like an angry and humiliated kid again in those moments, but I'm not that kid or teen anymore. I lived thought it somehow.

I had a dream back when I was 17, where I'm standing in from of my 9 year old self and that pile of baby books. She's crying and looking at me, desperately. I walk over and hug her, proudly telling her "We read The Great Gatsby in high school, and we understand it."

To anyone who has struggled with illiteracy at non-toddler-points in their lives, I see you. To anyone who's struggled with reading comprehension, I see you. To anyone who struggled with writing, I see you. We don't talk about it enough, and I want to change that. I don't want to hide that side of my life experience anymore. Fuck shame, we climbed out of it.

And to this day, a copy of "The Great Gatsby" is still on my shelf. Because I read it in high school, and 9 year old me would've thought that was the coolest achievement ever.

[jack-ackles]

i have waited long enough to say this but LORD DEBLING IS AN ASSHOLE.

i cant fucking take all these tweets and "opinions" saying penelope should've ended up with debling and that debling is better than colin

all those people can go and (i can't stress this enough) fuck themselves!!!!!

A man in his mid forties looking for a bride in a room full of eligible women in the age group 18-22

He was looking for a wife in the room full of girls who wished for a good match, loving and dashing husband.. but HE wasn't looking for "love" as he would always love nature more.

He wanted to marry asap so that he could leave for his tour, which also meant:

he wanted a wife who would basically be his housekeeper and look after his estate.

which probably also mean, since he doesn't have a family, he would leave for his tour but not before getting his supposed wife preggo so that he will have an heir to continue his legacy in case something happens to him. that's why he was looking for a wife urgently this year.

he was looking for someone LOYAL? but when did he ever give any hint that he would not cheat? he was the one to roam the world meet thousands of people.. no promise of being loyal himself but wanted to leave a wife behind him to take care of his properties AND be alone waiting for him?

The way he didn't need more than one hint that penelope was in love with someone else to cancel his proposal makes me sickkk, not a chance, no understanding, just a direct assumption that she WILL cheat behind his back.. its a proof he just wants a housekeeper and someone to make and look after his heir, NOT. A. WIFE!!!

Also, lets look at this from penelope's angle.

to all who think lord debling is in the race and there is a debling-penelope-colin love triangle are sadly mistaken and once again i blame media illiteracy of people.

the only reason pen even looked at debling's way was because she gave up hopes of LOVE and a happy fulfilling life. When she realized if she wants freedom from featheringtons for rest of her life she needs to get out there and marry someone from whatever options she can get,to fit in society. she gave up on waiting for colin to love her back, she gave up on colin (and thus, the first polin kiss). And the first, only and best option she got was lord debling.

And as for colin..

When he said "I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington", The intent behind his words was not to belittle Penelope but rather for his friends to know that the nature of their is relationship as friends only.

(ofcourse this is obvious because colin could never say bad things about penelope.. evrr!! but once again.. media illiteracy! or should i say colin haters)

saying colin is a rake who "slept around half of europe".. colin is 22 or 23 years old. trying to fit in society. trying to find a purpose, trying to find intimacy and not feel distant. he is young, he was single, young, didn't have realization of his romantic feelings for yet.

but people are acting like debling in his mid forties did not sleep around.. he literally travels all the time, colin is still half his age. And also, in the show nothing implied he would stay loyal while on tour after being married.

colin didnt realize pen was in love with him so as his friend, a man, he always kept his distance respected her boundaries as a woman. He interacted with pen very less at the balls and events because he is seen as an eligible suitor in the eyes of society and it wouldn't help pen get suitors. in season 3, he hears pen and wants to help her (selflessly as he did with others) to get a suitor - but started realizing his feelings.

but the day he realizes his feelings for pen he didn't play around like other MLs, went straight away to pen, managed to come on right time to stop debling's proposal, he didn't play around.. just confessed his feelings then and there!

i am 101% convinced that whoever keeps saying pen should've ended up with lrd debling really wants her to live a miserable, lonely life even after the show keeps telling us she wants a loving, fulfilling life after what she has to go through with featheringtons.

wanting penelope to end up with old ass debling who is distant detached over a young tall and handsome man who is also her bestfriend, who she also loved ever since she first saw him?.. its cruel. its simply HATE.

"colin couldn't match her intellect"

"colin will definitely end up cheating"

"who would want to marry a rake over a rich smart explorer who would be gone for years and you could live a life like jane austen"

"it felt like throwing the fat girl a bone"

stfu. gtfo. kys. fys.

[yeyinde]

someone say creepy regency price x maid?

p!link: https://xhamster.com/videos/maid-getting-fucked-hard-14510307

like. i grew up with the word skedaddle thrown abouts pretty liberally here and there. but never really had a mental image in my head for what it kinda looked like. until now. because my god. did she just skedaddle on outta there, hey

but basically the whole vibe, yeah. i want it to be ultra creepy. i want him to give you a queasy feeling in your stomach whenever he's around lmao

like he makes you clean his desk (while he's sitting in his chair), with an obvious hard-on. probs gropes you, too. doesn't even try anymore to make it seem like something proper. bends you over the desk (a la the above) and then makes you clean up the mess all over again when you're done all with his cock still out, drinking scotch and smoking a cigar. totally casual as if he wasn't making you stammer out bible passages about premarital sex and sin in the evening while him and his wife watch you humiliate yourself. condemning your illiteracy for poor character instead of, you know, having to take care of a family as the sole breadwinner.

he's a scoundrel. def says, "i pay you, which means i own you, love." or, "if you don't like it, you can always leave" knowing full well you have mouths to feed and no one else will hire you because he blacklisted you in almost every surrounding county. like, gross. so, so gross. literally views you as his property because his wife decided this little street urchin was less likely to steal her gems over the rest 🙄

[dailyadventureprompts]

Therapy Vs. Power Fantasy

Like a sage delving through cursed tomes to discover lost truths I recently I stumbled into some of the danker corners of the internet and abzorbed some absolutely vile takes. One of the recurring themes that popped up was people with rancid personal beleifs taking aim at the newer generations of TTRPG players (d&d and otherwise) for finding personal meaning or catharsis in their games, and how these new gamers were spoiled children who were getting overinvested.

Of course, they contrasted this "bitch" behavior there's a lot of other mysoginistic, homophobic, and ableist slurs they like to throw in when youtube TOS isn't looking with the badass way they play the game, like they've been doing ever since they were kids, like they still do in their playrooms mancaves away from all those pissbabies and girl feelings.

This got me thinking, specifically about power fantasies, how vunrability relates to art, and how repressed men are terrified of seeming weak, and how the early d&d lore is laregely based around childhood or adolesent fears.

The tie between media illiteracy and conservatism is nothing new. To enjoy art, you have to open yourself to it, to the chance of elation or disapointment or challenge, to let it resonate with you in ways you can't nessisarily predict or control. The fascist conservative only likes art that reinforces who they perceive themselves to be, strokes their ego, and confirms their biases about how the world should be.

It's very telling then that when you see chuds talking shit about younger d&d players, they often throw "therapy" around as an insult, because much in the same way that art can touch something inside you, therapy is about challenging your ingranned self image, toxic ego, and beleifs... all things that chuds consider vital to their sense of self.

This is not to say that a power fantasy can't be theraputic: a good portion of my own writing is about vicariously smashing broken systems and ousting the corruption of the world.. but there's a fundimental difference in the power fantasy of raising your fist against unjust power and the fantasy of being the boot inflicting that power downwards on those you dislike.

What the chuds are trying to do here is use d&d (or whatever OSR itteration they've decided to parasite this week) as a balm for their insecurity, not ask questions about WHY they're scared of being weak, or what strength really is, but to have a space where they can larp as being the ubermench real MEN they've always fallen short of IRL.

They're people who were bullied and ostrasized, and like good little bootlickers they've decided that the only thing wrong with their abuse was that they were the ones on the reciving end. Part of the reason they're so upset that this new generation of players is so "woke" is because the "woke" players refuse to put up with them being assholes, dening them the chance to establish themselves as the new top-rung in the abuser hierarchy.

Also, before I sign off, mad love to my friends in the OSR community, I know you have to put up with an above average number of these dipshits and while you prefer a different style of game to mine I know we're all fighting the good fight for a better, more welcoming TTRPG hobby.

[therainscene]

It’s funny that Bylers are so often accused of being delusional, because I was at my most delusional when I was anti-Byler.

I spent most of S4 refusing to acknowledge that Will had romantic feelings for Mike, despite knowing damn well what all that love triangle imagery and sad gay pining was implying. I convinced myself it was just bros before hoes drama; that perhaps Will wanted to come out to his best friend but felt nervous after six months of radio silence following “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

The van scene forced me to accept that he really was in love, and it pissed me off because what was even the point of making him fall for a straight boy?

Mike’s bizarre “no homo” behaviour was clearly a symptom of growing up in a conservative 80s household, and witnessing Will’s sacrificial act of love in the van was the shitty lesson he needed to get over his homophobia.

I saw a typical straight male protagonist in an 80s coming-of-age film getting to coast his way to self-actualization on the back of queer suffering; a cruel and homophobic trope I thought we’d moved past by the year 2022.

But then the NINA reunion scene rolled around--

--and I immediately picked up on the heavy parallels between Mike and Will in how they greeted El. The realization hit me like a tonne of bricks: Mike feels the same way about her as Will does.

I thought, “wait, does this mean I was wrong about...? Oh my god. No way.

No fucking way.

Will was in love with El this whole time?? What the fuck, he’s been gay since S1 and she’s his sister this is BULLSHIT I will personally strangle the Duffers--”

Heteronormativity is a hell of a drug, kids.

Let this be a lesson to those of you who think media illiteracy is to blame for Byler denial -- how well someone understands the mechanics of storytelling is irrelevant if they insist on treating Mike’s supposed heterosexuality as an axiom instead of an evidence-based conclusion. The issue lies with bias, not literacy.

I was stubbornly anti-Byler because I knew I’d immediately fall in love with this ship if I allowed myself to have hope it could be canon, and the general state of queer rep in mainstream media meant I was all but guaranteed to get hurt if I was so stupid as to have hope. But in my desperation to cling to the “safe” heteronormative outcome, I only ended up hurting myself with my own silly assumptions.

We’ve seen both canonically gay characters in the show make exactly this mistake, needlessly hurting themselves with their silly but self-defensive assumptions about their love interests.

Stranger Things absolutely nails its depiction of the subtler ways internalized homophobia can manifest -- Will may feel like a mistake and be prone to beating himself up, but he isn’t some pitiful self-loathing queer who wishes he was straight, either. He’s just so crushed by heteronormativity that he accepts it as an inescapable fact of life and lets it guide his beliefs and actions.

Don’t get me wrong: Will, like Robin, is very sensible for being cautious in such a horrifically bigoted environment -- trying to openly defy that level of homophobia by yourself, especially when you’re young, is a bad idea.

But unlike Robin, he clearly struggles to accept that he has the right to chase his same-sex love interest. He's no longer simply exercising caution, but conforming to homophobic standards -- much in the same way I thought I was sensibly refusing to be queerbaited, when really I was just agreeing with the heteronormative status quo.

I realize now that this is the real reason Will was written into a homophobic 80s trope: not to teach Mike an outdated lesson in acceptance, but to maneuver Will into position for the lesson he’s going to learn in S5 about resisting conformity.

Will needs to learn that castrating himself to make straight people comfortable is a bad idea too. Not only is that a miserable way to live his life, but what sort of world is he leaving for the next generation of queer kids if he never questions these homophobic standards?

It’s just the cycle of abuse scaled up to the societal level.

This is what gives me confidence in Byler endgame. Queerness isn’t just an incidental element of Will’s personal arc, but suffuses the show to its very core -- it’s in its themes, its allegory, its characters.

So Will getting the boy isn’t just nice fan-service for Byler shippers, but a necessary ending if the show’s most important lesson is to land:

That it’s rewarding to make the difficult choice of standing up to bigotry in the face of forced conformity. Of choosing love.

Could it be the case that I was right the first time, and Stranger Things is going to turn out to be yet another heteronormative mainstream show that doesn’t commit to its own themes? Sure, maybe. But that wouldn’t invalidate the valuable lessons this show has already -- and apparently accidentally lol -- taught me.

Anyone who calls us deluded for hoping a mainstream show is going to have a gay pairing as its main couple just doesn’t realize -- or doesn’t care -- that they’re contributing to the very problem they’re describing.

[gettinshiggywithit]

𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬

Summary: In which you find out loki’s secret and he fears your reaction.

Pairing: loki x reader

Genre: fluff ,maybe a hintt of angst

W/c: 928

A/N: saw someone talking abt jotun loki and my brain went brrrrr.Wrote this at 5/6 in the morning on 0 sleep so apologies in advance!If yall liked it id love to hear your thoughts

Marvel MasterList

A frost giant.unbelievable.

Loki stood in odin’s vault,hands firmly gripping the handles of the casket. He watched as his skin changed to an icy blue,an equally icy chill running down his spine. The all father had conveniently fallen into the odin-sleep.

“Leaving me when i need him…typical” he said to himself. It wasn’t like he had an audience and with him being the acting ruler,and his mother being in his ‘father’s’ chambers, he needn’t fear intrusion.

The only person aware of his little secret,who was awake anyway, was his mother and he intended to keep it that way.for as long as he could.

Eliminating thor would guarantee him the throne and by destroying jotunheim,he’d garner enough of the public’s love to hopefully keep his throne,should his secret come to light.

‘Does heimdall know?’ He wondered to himself.

‘No matter,He can be dealt with if necessary”

Loki was so lost in thought that he missed the,

“There you are!” You huffed out.

You marched on upto him and noticed he wasnt…himself.

At this sudden revalation, you started taking quieter,more measured steps towards the boyfriend-shaped figure in front of you.

You let out a tentative “loki?” To which he jolted, his hands immediately letting go of the casket and his now-red eyes staring at you with both surprise and slight fear. Not fear of you,but the fear of being discovered.

“Y/n, dont…dont do that.” He said letting out a breath he didn't know he’d been holding in. And when you didn’t reply, instead merely staring at him in bewilderment, he suddenly remembered how he looked. He stumbled backwards, his hands flying to brace himself against the stand of the artefact behind him.

His finger gently brushed against the casket and the fading blue returned once again.

Noticing this, he pulled his hands to his front.clasping them and lookin on at you,awaiting your reaction.

What would you do? Yell at him? Leave him? Threaten to tell the rest of asgard?

All the worst possibilities ran around his head and he began to tear up.

He was broken out of his turbulant thoughts by your hand brushing against his cheek.

He was shocked, to say the least.

Of all the reactions he’d thought up,this wasnt one.

He leaned into your touch,fearing this would be the last time he would feel it,your soft cold hand against his wretched skin.

“What is this loki?” You ask in a whisper,staring at him with not fear,not anger,but wonder and curiosity.

You were now stood quite close to eachother not impossibly so, but quite.

“I-“

“Were you cursed?”

“In a manner of speaking…y-”

“Does it hurt?”

You knew what he was,you’d seen frost giants before so it wasn’t illiteracy that made you disregard his current state.

You really were asking him if he was okay as he stood before you, a blue monster,kin to those you’d fantasised about killing in your youth…

Was this real?

He needed to know it was,so he spelled it out for you,

“Y/N,im a Frost giant.”

He let out in a voice laden with melancholy,regret and was that fear you heard?

“I know” you merely replied as you traced the patterns on his skin.

At this he pulled your hand away and held it.

“What do you mean you know?! Y/N im a monster! Dont you understand!”

Your expression shifted to one of annoyance,another unforseen reaction.

“I understand quite clearly loki.”

“Then why haven’t you-”

“Why haven’t i run out screaming? Cursing you? Why havent i tried to kill you?”

His silence told you that was exactly what he was about to ask, more or less.

You sighed before stepping towards him and placing his hand on your shoulder,he flinched but didn't move otherwise.

You took this as your go-ahead and wrapped him in a hug.

You stayed there for a good three minutes in silence before saying,

“Loki,i dont give a single ratatosk whisker if you’re a jotun.i love you.”

You pulled away at that to look him in the eyes and saw the tears forming there.

As they fell from his eyes,you caught them with your thumb and placed in on tongue.

Now it was his turn to look at you in confusion.

You waited a beat before saying, “for a jotun you cry asgardian tears.”

He smiled at that,scoffing at your antics.

“You’re ridiculous”

“Yeah well im also yours so get used to it” you said as you went in for another hug and this time he hugged back holding you like you were the most precious thing in all the nine realms,and to him,you were.

“Are you sure?” He whispered out,almost like he hoped you wouldnt hear.

“Always.And never forget it” you said,pressing a soft kiss to his lips which had him chasing yours as you pulled away.

“Why did you come down here anyway?” He asked finally realising it was rather odd for you to have come to the artefacts vault;unless there was a purpose for your visit that is.

“Ah yes, Frigga was calling you.” You said pulling away and pulling him by the arm towards the exit.

“Alright then” he said as he let you drag him out of the chamber that held his secrets. You really were something else,and he’d never been more grateful for anyone in his entire life.

Tag list(open):- @diagonal-queen

All rights reserved © 2023 gettinshiggywithit. Please do not repost, modify or claim as yours. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[oblivionbladetd]

To put Lily's media illiteracy on blast I wanna break this down for everybody.

In order.

The sole positive- saying Marcille is a good character, while true, Lacks any qualifications that contextualize in what way. Notably in that three of the negatives of the show revolve solely around her. Which does contextualize that Lily's love of the character is remarkably shallow, or her hatred of the rest of the show remarkably petty.

The sole neutral- Episodic by itself is, yes, very neutral. Without any qualifications this is about as helpful as saying it's animated. You'd have to know that Lily hates episodic shows to know how this factors into the grade.

The many negatives-

Digimon level pacing is such a specifically vague statement. To understand what she means, know her point of reference is a 25 year old show that has an overall different tone, setting, age range, and story to Dungeon eats.so we're on some big brained or moon brained shit here.

The riff on the shows tone is weird because the show is a dark comedy. The intended experience is the huge contrast of it all. Like what?

The premise of the show is looking at the dungeon in terms of a food chain. The only way there would be a joke about the art quality of the food is if the rest of the show was rendered in Crayon scibbles.

Marcille is also an archetype at first. They all are. She is the snooty elf. They all gain more depth later, but this is not a debate here. The reason she was the butt of all the big jokes is complaining about a necessity of their trip for it's unorthodox nature despite explicitly signing up for it.

Death having consequences would basically destroy the tone and humor. Making the multi-day journey to save falin from permadeath into a bog standard revenge story.

Hey, this series has two sole jokes! Sarcasm aside it is a reductive view. Marrcile is at the butt of the bigger jokes because it's thematically appropriate. She is the most resistant to the reality of their situation. Not to mention that if the marrcile was the sole man in a group of women, the jokes would hit all the same. Not to mention that woe is evenly spread after the first couple episodes, I'd know I watched the whole show.

Lastly "elf torture cliche"? When has that been enough of a thing to be a cliche? I looked it's not even really a trope.

The, albeit very abridged, critique just screams the following, "I did not want to like this show, I have decided it was a waste of time before I even fired up Netflix." Right at dismissing Marcille's suffering as little more than torture of the female lead just because I had known that there wasn't even an attempt at any kind of fair play. It boils down to the show being hardly watchable because it isn't a totally different show, which as an opinion is actually super fuckin valid! Lily, by giving it a grade, claims an authority over it. An authority that equates to flunking a physics major over not being fond of their favorite color.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Replica (Part 1)

Summary: A serf attracts the attention of Perturabo, unaware that she looks exactly like his deceased sister Callifone.

Perturabo/fem!Reader

Warnings: incest (kinda? it's not his sister but she's her copy)

Word count: 1022

This is my first work on Tumblr. I haven't written anything for a long time but I hope that next time it will be better. English is not my mother tongue. So hope that everything will be more or less readable.

Song: Mitski - Washing Machine Heart

“Almost all of my assistants died as a result of one... incident. So we are definitely lucky to have found you among this herd."

You could only purse your lips at that statement. Lucky. In a sense, this was true. Almost all the slaves were immediately sent to hard labor, where only death awaited them. But one of the primarch’s sincere serfs was just looking for a literate slave. So you haven’t really had time to experience all the horrors of a new life before you got a chance to survive yourself.

Still, you continued to think. Why did the Iron Warriors attack a loyal world of the Imperium? If you broke the law, Rogal Dorn would always find out about it and reveal the villains. But like a bolt from the blue, Iron Blood appeared and the assault began. All who miraculously survived were sent into slavery. Almost all the people were from the lowest classes, and only you, the local chronicler, somehow miraculously found your way among this whole crowd.

Your mentor said that lord Perurabo didn’t tolerate illiteracy and ignorance. He didn't want to see such people. That’s why the serfs of the primarch had to do more than just monitor the library. But also carry out other tasks that regular servitors could do.

That's how you start cleaning the primarch’s room. You, three other servants and your mentor briskly huddled around your duties in the hope of not bumping into lord Perturabo. But fate decreed otherwise, and after a couple of minutes the door opened.

“Lord Perturabo,” the mentor spoke by mail, bowing before the primarch. You and the slaves stood near the wall, humbly lowering your head. - “I apologize for disturbing your presence.”

He didn't answer. He didn't even move. Several minutes passed, but he continued to stand in the doorway. Your mouth started to dry. You tried your best not to fidget, so as not to bring down the primarch's wrath. But you still couldn’t shake the strange feeling, as if he...

looked straight at you.

You so wanted to close your eyes and leave this room as quickly as possible. But you could only wait for his order. Goosebumps ran through body. The tension grows. Even your brave mentor became worried. It was immediately clear that such behavior was not characteristic of Perturabo.

“Out.”

A relieved groan almost escaped your lips. It was unbearable to be in this place. Almost suffocating. You hurried after the slaves, continuing to look at the floor. You were almost over the threshold when you were stopped by a huge hand on your shoulder. No. Why? It was your first day. You almost believed that you could adapt to your new life. Maybe it would be better if you died under the rubble. And you never ended up on the Iron Blood.

"Except you".

You almost heard the serfs' thoughts. How they feel sorry for you and how glad they are that they are not in your place. You were still standing when the door closed behind the last serf, and the primarch sat down at his desk, turning his back to you. He didn’t touch the blueprints, instead staring at the table and clenching his fists tightly... as if he was holding himself back from anger.

Startled, you decided to go back to cleaning without waiting for his order. In the end, you managed to overcome your fear, and you were even able to relax. If a mentor were here, he would definitely scold you. But you cannot do your job quickly and efficiently. How could you ignore all these things?

A model of an amphitheater, the structure of Ancient Terra, an unusually shaped clock, puzzles. Never in your life have you seen more skillful work. But most of all, you stayed close to the golden birdcage. It was made so exquisitely and with such love that you kept wiping the non-existent dust off the table. You even saw images of birds and flowers on the bars.

"Like it?"

You shuddered involuntarily when you heard the primarch’s voice. Turning around, you were surprised to see Perturabo. He was still sitting with his back to you, turning his face just a little, as if he didn’t want to see your whole. His eyes shone with curiosity and wariness. He still didn’t touch the drawings.

“Y-yes, very much.” - you whispered, holding the rag to your chest. The primarch continued to glare at you, and you decided to continue the conversation. - “But why is it empty?”

"What is your name?" - Perturabo ignored your question. Confused, you almost whispered your name. Perturabo's face smoothed out slightly. - “Were your ancestors from Olympia?”

You shrugged in confusion. How were you supposed to know? Your family was not poor, but you did not wallow in money. You did not keep records of your family as you did. Perturabo continued to ask you the most common questions. Who you were before becoming serf. As if he was trying to know something that you didn’t understand.

You thought that talking to such an insignificant person like you only disappoints the primarch. But he only relaxed more and more. But when you said that you only have two brothers, he winced. Finally, he turned his gaze to the drawing. Before you could return to work, he suddenly looked at you. There was something in his gaze. You couldn't say exactly what it was.

"Do you wanna take a look?"

Your lips parted in surprise. When you boarded the Iron Blood, you thought your life was over. That you will never see your home world again and will forever be locked in this terrifying place. But here you stand before a primarch who strikes fear and worship into the hearts of humans. And he asks you, YOU, if you want to see his work.

“I'd love to.” - you nodded, holding back your excitement and unrest. You were really curious to know what Lord Perturabo was working on. Perhaps it was your imagination, but a shadow of a smile flashed across the primarch’s face.

Maybe he'll even let you come home.

[the-kr8tor]

KATY THINK OF THIS (IM THAT ONE ANON THAT SAID ABOUT RUNAWAY PRINCESS X PIRATE HOBIE AND I WANNA ADD TO IT)

what if she’s running because she’s getting married to this shitty aristocracy that her family arranged and she running away from that and ends up meeting ways with a pirate. Hobie probably doesn’t know she’s this princess and falls in love but news breaks out as always she gets found and forced to marry that aristocracy and Hobie’s basically gets betrayed. (Live laugh love)

Btw other anon can use this idea or make their own version

Aahhhhh anon I'm so sorry but this took on a life of its own 😭😭😭 but I ended it open ended just in case someone requests something in this au!! So sorry that this pivoted from the prompt, ly thank you for requesting ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x Princess! reader

Word count: 2.3k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW blood, CW violence.

A/N: If you want more princess! Reader x Pirate! Hobie, @pinksugarscrub has a few fics with them!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Marriage, it's supposed to be a happy occasion. One where it's supposed to be filled with laughter and dancing with your family and your new family. Looking forward to your new life with the love of your life. Not whatever the hell your father arranged for you.

As you hide from your handmaiden below deck together with your dowry which is basically a barn full of chickens and cows, their noises hide your frustrated groans from trying to rip your gown from your body. You've had enough of the silky fabric and its luscious lace, you've hatched a plan, a plan to escape from the loveless marriage that will fall on you once you step out of your father's ship. You were not dubbed ‘the realm's problem princess’ for nothing.

Whilst your sisters were called ‘the realm's delight’ or ‘the realm's most beautiful’, but, as the seventh daughter out of twelve siblings, you were not granted a title befitting of you. Even though you're not the heir or even the spare, you were given something much more priceless than a piece of land or castle, no, you were given freedom. Freedom to whisk away every night to mingle with the common folk, freedom to run around the castle without getting reprimanded by your royal parents. Why would they even blink an eye at your so-called debauchery when you're the seventh and not the eldest or even the youngest?

But that sense of freedom that they have given you has now backfired on them. You absolutely refused to marry a stranger from another country, and for political gain nonetheless. You fought everyone to not be sent away from your home. You kicked knights in their steel clad groins, you punched footmen right under their chins. The last straw apparently was when you tried to stow away on a merchant ship whilst you were disguised as a common boy, to which your father and his adviser did not appreciate.

“it’s for the good of the realm,” they said, “I secured an advantageous marriage for you” they said. Well they can shove that marriage contract up where the sun doesn't shine. If your father's adviser was so keen on marrying the strange royal then he should just marry him instead.

You grumble obscenities under your breath, a chicken tilts its head at your frustrations. The fabric of the skirt finally rips away from your hips, leaving you in only your petticoat and corset. A locket tumbles off from the sewn pocket inside the skirt. You almost forgot about the damn thing in your haste to get away.

Grabbing the golden locket, you don't even sneak one last peek at the painting inside, a painting that depicts your so-called fiancé. He's not ugly per se, but he seems…boring. Too boring for you at least. All his correspondence to you were lackluster, his poems lacking heart and character. You surmise that it was written by someone else ever since you've heard rumours of his illiteracy.

You huff, throwing it on the pile of fabric. A cow moos next to you, and you spare her a glare.

“This is for the best, Belinda.” You've named her after your handmaiden. Belinda has been your only friend since your journey. “I don't want to get married off to some strange man, to live in a strange land. And to never see my siblings, not even during the holidays!” You put on trousers that you've stolen from one of the sailors accompanying you. “I'd rather risk it out in the sea than be a wife.” Miraculously, the trousers fit perfectly. “Finally, something right goes my way today. Let's hope this luck continues.”

As you say those words, the ship lunges harshly to the side, knocking you off your feet then flinging you against the hardwood. Vision swirling, the poor animals cry out in their cages, you think they're crying out based on their frantics faces since your ears seem to only hear that high pitched ringing sound.

Dust falls on you like snowflakes, looking above, the dust comes from the deck. Before you could stand up, the ship lunges once again. You slide on the floor, together with the crates and cages.

Your vision finally clears moments before Belinda's cage smashes into you. Frantically, you crawl aside, the metal cage missing your foot by only a few inches.

“Are you hurt?!” You ask the cow as if she can talk back. Belinda moos loudly, you now notice your hearing coming back. And you just now notice the warm crimson sliding down your forehead and down to your lashes. Blinking away, you wipe it, blood coating your palms, heart pumping rapidly, you panic. “Oh, shit.”

You need help, but you backtrack as the sounds from above get louder and louder as your hearing finally normalizes. Screams and gunshots can be heard, cannons are going off from your left, and you're absolutely petrified.

You just want to go home. This isn't exactly what you pictured when your brothers tell you of their feats while at sea.

The animals in their cages cry out in the same panic that swells in your chest. If you want to run away, they must want the same thing. In your fear-addled brain, you grab the set of keys that are set on the wall to open each of their cages. The chickens cluck and scamper away the second you open their cage, while the bigger animals are much more apprehensive. You coach them out of their enclosure, Belinda is the first one out, and the rest follows.

Something hits the hull of the ship, the sheer force knocking you to your knees. A split second later, you feel water under your trousers. Looking over your shoulders, you see water seeping through the gaping hole. And you notice that you're now alone below deck.

Trudging the rising water towards the stairs, someone familiar calls after you, her voice is hoarse yet you can recognize it even in your sleep.

“Princess!” Belinda calls, the real Belinda.

“I'm here!” You yell back, the water now reaching to your hips.

She quickly comes down the stairs, she gasps, eyes wide with panic. “My girl! Come hurry!” Hand reaching towards you, you thank your older brother for teaching you how to swim.

You finally reach her before the water could drown you. Belinda sighs in relief as she yanks you away from the freezing water.

“What were you thinking!” She roams her eyes towards your clothes, or the lack of it. Half hugging you, shielding you away from wandering eyes, she guides you towards the deck.

“I didn't cause this!” You defend yourself, shivering from the cold, regretting ripping off your warm gown.

“I know you didn't, stupid girl! We're getting sacked by pirates!” Belinda practically screams in your ears, and your blood runs cold. She groans when she sees the blood coating half of your face. She murmurs something about getting sacked once she gets home. Or was it axed?

“Pirates?!” You remember all the stories your older brothers told you. ‘Be wary of the sea, for they hold sinister beings’ they said, and you thought they were talking about sea monsters. You grew up, and now you know they weren't exactly talking about mythical beings. “Oh sh–” Belinda side eyes you. “Shucks!” In your peripheral, you spot cow belinda eating cabbage inside the galley.

Your handmaiden leads you down the hallway, “we need to hide you!” Her body shakes from fear at what they would do to a princess like you.

“What about you?” And you fear for her safety.

“I'll be alright, princess, I'll live but you might not.”

“What the fuck!” You let out not because of what she said but because of the large man waiting at the end of the corridor.

“We're dead.” Belinda says nonchalantly, as if this was a regular occurrence for her.

“You the princess?” He asks gruffly, his cutlass shines from the sun beaming through the window. The scars on his bare chest and the tattoo on his neck scares the living out of you.

“...no?” You say meekly. “You're on the wrong ship, mister. No princess here!” Your voice squeaks.

“This is ‘the raven's beak’, right?” He raises a thick eyebrow.

“...no” a big fat lie on your end that you hope he did not see through you.

He looks down at you, you can practically see the cogs in his head turn.

“We'll be going now, sir.” Belinda chuckles nervously. Just as you're about to escape the pirate, he grabs your bare shoulders. Your handmaiden immediately takes your hand.

“Hold on, you're not going anywhere. That corset is too pretty and intricate for some wench.” He drags you away whilst Belinda tries her best to yank you away, and in turn she gets dragged too. Her heels scrape against the wood, her face turning red from frustration.

“A wench!” You scoff, fruitlessly elbowing him. “Ow!” Your elbow hurts, it's like you punched a wall.

The stranger chuckles, “Time to meet the captain.”

“Wait, are you going to kidnap me?!”

“Of course we will.” He says matter of factly. Belinda continues to hold your hand but she has given up from trying to take you away from the large man. “For ransom.”

You burst into laughter, the man raises a brow at the sudden outburst. Belinda cocks her head at your strange behavior.

“Oh that's funny!” You continue to giggle even when you finally reach the deck. The sun hits your skin, warming your wet clothes. The smell of gunpowder makes your nose itch.

Both pirates and captured sailors look at you having a laughing fit. Your eyes water, and your chest is hurting from all the laughing. The man sets you down right next to the bound sailors. Head in your hands, giggling subsiding, fear encapsulates you again, and now you refuse to look up.

“Havin' a giggle, eh?” A voice asks.

“Yep.” You pop the p in your mouth, face still hidden from your captors.

“Is this fun to you, princess?” A feminine voice pipes up from your right.

“Not one bit!”

“She doesn't look like a princess, you sure it's her?” Another unknown voice asks.

“Not sure, Pav.” You feel someone crouch in front of you. The leather from his clothes squeaks, metals clinking together as he moves. “Maybe if the princess graces us with her beautiful face we can identify her?”

“Nope, not doing that.”

“C’mon, love, we're not going to hurt you. Your father wouldn't pay us if we did.”

“It's funny that you think my father will actually pay the ransom.” Your voice is still muffled by your hands.

“Why's that?” He asks softer.

“He doesn't like me, if you got one of my brothers then he will surely pay you.” You take your hands away, eyes going wide for a second once your vision is blessed by the handsome pirate. Clearing your throat, fixing your composure, you ignore the smirk on his pierced lips. “Y-you’re shit out of luck because you got me instead.”

“Nah,” he tilts his head with a smile. “I think I got lucky.”

Your cheeks are suddenly warm, you don't think it's from the sun. Hands clammy, you nervously laugh.

Surprisingly, he laughs with you. “Captain Hobie Brown,” he introduces himself. Your instincts kick in, but before you could introduce yourself, he smiles genuinely at you. A smile that has his eyes crinkling in the corners, a smile that weirdly fills you with comfort. “I know who you are, princess. And I know your father will pay the ransom.”

You knit your eyebrows. “How would you know?”

“Easy, you're his favourite.”

“Bullshit, now that's funny.”

“A princess' face but with the mouth of a sailor. I think you'd fit right in with us, hm?” Hobie takes his coat off to drape it on your bare shoulders. “Your sailors were frothing at the mouth.”

“W-what?” Sure enough, when you turn your head to the side, you see your father's men quickly avert their eyes.

“Why don't we strike a deal?” His grey eyes twinkles in the sun. It reminds you of when the light hits the water just right whenever you look out your bedroom window.

“Do not, princess! He's a liar! All pirates are.” Belinda scoffs at the pirate right before a blond woman stuffs her mouth with a piece of cloth.

Despite the warning, you're curious. “What deal?”

“Come with us,” he whispers lowly, just for your ears to hear. “Let's deceive your father and your fiancé, we get their money and you get out of your marriage. Easy.”

“That doesn't sound easy.”

“Nothing in life is.”

“How would you do it?” You roam your eyes around his face for any clue if he's lying. You don't find any.

“Come aboard, and you'll find out.” Hobie stands up, hand stretched out for you.

“Sounds like a trap.” You look up with a growing smile. “But it's better than getting married.” To Belinda's disapproval, you take his hand.

“Good choice—” You pull at his hand hard, eyes threatening, grip getting stronger, stronger than a princess should.

“Don’t fuck with me, Hobie. Trust me, whatever you're planning, let’s hope my fiancé doesn't actually care about me.” Something passes by your eyes. “If he does, if what you tell me is true, then my father's army will be the least of your worries.”

A grin spreads across his face, the silver he wears is glinting just like his grey eyes. “I know of your fiancé, and your warmongering brothers.” He leans closer to your bewildered face, “do you think I need the money? When I have them?” Leaning away, he takes a step back to show you his fleet, a fleet that could even rival your father's and your fiancé’s combined. Their flags wave in the wind, red sails dancing in the breeze. “What do you say, love? Would you rather get married, or stay and listen to my plan?”

You grin back, “I've heard of you,” the infamous pirate captain smugly smiles. “Let's hear your plans then, captain.”