#love it. love seeing grown men come after young women who have been abused by someone who happens to wear their clubs shirt. love it.

[riarevenge]

ohhhhh how i love that the football fanbase proves itself to be an unsafe environment for women at every opportunity!!!!!!!!

[topgun-imagines]

Day 8: Pick Your Family

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Synopsis: Who knew that a text about Thanksgiving dinner could lead to the end of Bradley and Jake’s relationship?

Note: is it short? Yes. Am I very proud of it? No. But here you go.

Warnings: Religion, same sex relationship, homophobia, break-ups, brief mentions of abuse, family trauma & arguments.

Word count: 1.3k

Thanksgiving was never a fun holiday in the Seresin household. The day was always stressful for everyone involved. Jake’s grandmother would take on the responsibility of making all the food, his mother would try to entertain the younger Seresin siblings while his father remained locked in his office as if it were any other day. At the end of the day, everyone would gather around the large oak table to eat the delicious homemade meal. Dinner was usually eaten in silence, however, there were more than a few times when that table became the place to air your dirty laundry. Those times always made Jake look forward to leaving that house. This year was no exception

However, there was one small thing that had changed this year. Jake was no longer single when Thanksgiving rolled around. About five months ago, Bradley Bradshaw had finally grown the balls to ask Jake out. And while Jake agreed to go out with him at the time, he had never regretted that decision more than he did right now.

The eldest Seresin sibling had just been notified by his younger sister of the date and time of this year's Thanksgiving celebration. Even though the time around the table was usually awful, the food was delicious and Jake got to see his grandmother. So, the pilot made a point of attending every year. The meal was set to take place a few days after Thanksgiving day, in about a week's time. While this may have seemed like a no-brainer to anybody else, this was one of the most important decisions in Jake’s life.

He had already had Thanksgiving dinner with Maverick and Admiral Kazansky, Bradley’s family. It would be weird to tell his boyfriend that he wasn’t allowed to come to his family's dinner. Especially given the fact that he was currently sitting on the couch in Iceman’s living room. Bradley was in the kitchen, helping the older men tidy up.

Of course, Jake wanted to be able to take the man he loved with him to visit his family. He wanted to parade him around and show him off. After all, it was what Bradley deserved. However, that simply wasn’t an option. If Jake knew for a fact that he could bring Bradley into that house without having everyone berate the two of them, he wouldn’t be thinking twice about inviting the mustached aviator.

But he knew that would never be the case. Jake knew that the second he walked through that door, holding Bradley’s hand proudly, his father would lose his mind. George Seresin was a very religious man. Ever since he was young, his father had shoved the family's religion down Jake’s throat. Sunday mornings were spent at church. His mother would regularly host a bible study with all of the other women from the church. While he knew that his grandmother would support anything that made him happy, he knew his parents wouldn’t be as gracious.

One time, just before Jake graduated high school, he had tried to go out with a guy in his class. He knew it was a mistake the second they stepped into the diner. In the corner was one of the women who attended his mother's bible study. There was a sour look on her face for the rest of the afternoon. By the time Jake got home that night, he was positive that his mother had already been informed of his dining partner. He had never been more correct. He had never seen his parent so pissed. For the first time since he was a boy, his father had slapped him.

That memory left a look on his face so sour that even Bradley noticed when he walked in. “Everything okay, baby?” Now, the nickname that would usually make his smile made his insides burn. Jake remained silent. With furrowed brows, Bradley moved to sit beside his boyfriend. He could see the text on his phone from the corner of his eye. “Your families having Thanksgiving dinner in a couple days?” It was posed as an innocent question, but Jake couldn’t help but look for the hidden meaning behind it.

The blond pilot cleared his throat. “Yeah,” Nodding with a clenched jaw, Jake tried as hard as he could to avoid eye contact with his concerned boyfriend. “Yeah, I’m heading out in two days.” Instantly, Bradley’s eyebrow rose. Jake had specified that he was going, not that they were going.

Jake didn’t seem to want to talk about it anymore, so Bradley took it upon himself to ask the question he was dreading. “Any chance I’m coming with you?” There was a soft smile on his face. One that quickly disappeared when Jake stood from the couch sharply.

“No, Bradshaw,” Jake never called his boyfriend by his last name since they got together. “Just me. You’re not coming.” And suddenly it all clicked. Instantly, Bradley knew why Jake didn’t want to take him to meet his family.

The blond pilot moved to leave the room, choosing instead to join Iceman and Maverick in the kitchen. Bradley stood, not ready to put the conversation to bed yet. “Are you ashamed of me?” The question was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Did he want to know the answer? Not really. Did he need to know the answer? Definitely.

Jake froze, keeping his back turned to his boyfriend as he sucked in a sharp breath. “We’re not talking about this right now.” And then he stepped out of the room. Surely Bradley wouldn’t try to have this conversation in front of Mav and Ice. Right? Oh, how wrong he was. The mustached aviator followed him into the kitchen where the older men were chatting happily and laughing quietly.

“No,” It was firm, so firm in fact that it stopped the conversation between Mav and Ice dead in its tracks. “You’re going to tell me. Right now.” With one look shared between the two, Mav and Ice left the room wordlessly.

Dragging a hand down his face, Jake spun on his heel to face the upset pilot. “What do you want me to say, Bradshaw?” His arms were thrown out to the side, a humourless chuckle falling from his chapped lips. “You’re not coming. End of story,” Bradley’s mind began working a mile a minute, trying to decipher what had changed so drastically that Jake wouldn’t even attempt to persuade his family to open up to the idea of the two of them. There was only one possibility that came to mind. “I can’t fucking do this,” Jake scoffed and grabbed his jacket. “I’m leaving.”

Their backs were turned on each other when Bradley spoke next. The hope and joy that was once in his voice was long gone by now. “Why can’t you love me?” It all seemed to click at that moment. Regardless of the amount of times that Bradley had told Jake that he loved him, he had never heard anything close in response. The kitchen remained eerily silent. The kind of silence that made your skin crawl. But Bradley felt numb. No skin crawling, no emotional pain, no anger. Nothing.

Bradley wanted to spend the rest of his life with Jake. He was willing to sacrifice anything to be with him. However, it seemed like the sentiment was not returned. Jake wasn’t even willing to try. Why couldn’t he just love Bradley? Was that too much to ask? Bradley realized that it must have been the second that Jake walked out the door without another word, plunging the house into a horrifying silence.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed! Join the taglist!

Tagging: @ohtobeleah @xoxabs88xox @bradleybeachbabe @oldermenaremyreligion @els-marvelvsp @kmc1989 @nyx2021 @callsignharper @seitmai

[writer-by-the-sea]

Okay, I just need to tell a story.

A warning, while this story has a 'happy' ending; it could have ended much much differently. This didn't happen to me, but my very close friend at the time. Trigger warnings to abuse, grooming, and child predators.

I was in middle school, very young. Online chat rooms were the coolest thing ever. You can meet people from all over the world, how neat.

Usually, I would be in different chats about movies, TV shows, books, etc. I did meet both men and women who were much older than me and they begged for my attention. I thought I was special. However, I never trusted any of them. I am an product of abuse, I was abused, my sisters were abused; I can spot the disgusting behavior a million miles away.

My friend could not.

She was very trusting. She thought it was so amazing that an older man was interested in her. She thought she was special and that sending him nude photos was completely normal and that it was a normal request. They exchanged phone numbers. Cell phones were just becoming popular and not everyone had them, but she did.

We were around 13 and horny. He said he was 34 and horny.

Our school threw little middle school dances, using the high schoolers left over stuff. It was free and there was a popcorn machine. I lived right down the street so I always went. I mean, who can pass up fresh popcorn?

My friend comes with me, in high spirts and excited to get to the dance. I thought she was excited for the shitty DJ, awkward dancing, and popcorn.

I was wrong.

She told this man the address of our school, the address to her house, the address to my house. She also informed him that my mother was working late and we would be alone after the dance.

He was coming to the dance.

This man, this adult fully grown man, was driving over 12 hours to come to our school to sleep with my friend.

Again.

He said he was 34.

I'm in my 30s now, and not a single fucking part of me could ever imagine talking to children like that. I have a baby sister around the same age now and I would go to jail if any man ever tried to talk to her like that.

She didn't tell me he was coming until he was about 10 minutes away.

While I knew she was fooling around with some older man online, I didn't know how far she had gone. I thought it was harmless.

We had talked about it. She was aware of how paranoid I was and how I told her to always be careful. Never show your face, never say your city, never say your school, never give your full name, never show photos of your room where there could be even one single item that pinpoints where you live.

I panicked. She wouldn't listen to me.

And then he got to the school.

I remember us stepping outside and seeing his car. A blue hunk of junk with a cracked windshield and mismatched tires.

She turned and looked at me, white as a ghost, "that's his car, but that's not what he looks like." He was using his little brothers photos. He was actually 45, and married.

I dragged her back into the school, ripped her phone out of her hand, and called her mother while she sobbed and begged me not to.

Her mom called the police.

He fled the moment we had run back into the school.

We had enough information that the police managed to find his car parked at a motel. He was texting my friend asking her what happened and when he can come pick her up.

In the truck of his car was rope, duct tape, a whip, knives, and a gun.

He had also been texting dozens of other young girls, and his computer was found to be completely filled with disgusting content. Things that were sent to him, and things he had gotten away with.

The court process for everything took a very very long time, but I remember my friend's mom didn't want her child to endure any further trauma and refused to attend (at least I think so, memory is fuzzy.)

Anon, you see how badly this could have gone, yes?

TLDR: Please, don't fuck around with older men. You are not special, he does not love you, it will never end well.

Thank you.

julien your so sexy i love the idea of you being so much older than me...

Uhhhh...

I'm flattered..

Anon, I don't know how old you are; but please, for the love of god, be careful.

If you ever meet a man who is significantly older than you, and he actually shows interest in you?

RUN.

I'm sorry, but, to a whole ass adult like me; there is NOTHING attractive about young people. As you age, your taste age with you. It's not, "I keep getting older and they stay the same age." No. Just no.

If an older man is ever in your inbox, calling you young and beautiful or handsome-- they are grooming you. RUN.

Again, I'm flattered. Enjoy your little online crush.

Just don't interact romantically with anyone "so much older" than you.

[hoodoobarbie]

The mythology of the Siren, Mermaid, Water Spirits & Mami Wata and it’s origins within black feminity.

Today I had to listen to other another black woman rant about how mermaids/sirens/mami wata are evil low key. So this educational post was born in response. 

Did you really think the divine essence of the black feminine wouldn’t protect itself ? That energy exists for a reason.  Suddenly it’s evil, to have teeth and protect yourself from predators. Water is a precious resource. You will be tested to see if you are deserving of it or not. Also these spirits will defend natural resources so they don’t get fucked up by human greed. 

It’s common for some places in Africa for people to offer the Sirens/Mami Wata/Water spirits or make an offerings/contracts with them in order to use the resources on their land. It also keeps the white ppl away too because they cause so much trouble.

Sirens are also associated with being the killers of children and men, but often this is completely misrepresented intentionally.

Men fear the power of the siren because she can override the patriarchy at core and can completely unravel them. The orgins of many water spirits lie in matriachal societies, temples divine feminine and motherhood. This is why temples and sacred magikal knowledge was intentionally destroyed and stolen, especially to empower the white patriarch.

Sirens are also described as thiefs of children and child killers. Sirens have been known to kidnap kids who were being abused or have were murdered near water and take them to their kingdom to restore them.

Sometimes the child returns, sometimes they are not. However in general they are big on kidnapping people, mostly women and giving them powers, if they decide to return. The idea of them eating and killing children, was a lie perpetuated by Greeks to cover up some truly horrific acts. Unfortunate these false accusations have been allowed to continue to perpetuate.

If a siren is acting in a predatory way, there is a reason why as their energy as been disturbed. Sirens are natural guardians. 

So the real question is . . . what did you do ? Did you destroy their habitat ? Abuse a child or a person ? Commit an egregious act against a woman ie rape/murder etc ? Disrespect a sacred place, the land, the seas or rivers ? Steal precious resources that weren’t yours to take ?

These sacred traditions are more than just deities, spirits and our ancestors. All forms of ATR are access to our spiritual mind state as an entire community. When you move in Vodou, you can sense the whole of black consciousness and all of our problem spots, specifically  areas that need healing. 

Oxum-Oshun, Olokun, Yemaya, the Mami Wata, La Baliene, La Siren, Met Agwe, The Simbi - these are all spirits with a connection to waters. Water is life and has always been inherently associated feminine energy. I’m not going into detail about all these cross connections but let’s chat about La Sirene, specifically.

La Sirene, Queen of all Mermaids is more than just a powerful sorceress and queen of song/music and dreams, she is also a keeper of secrets an a guardian of sacred memories & knowledge.

Many of the souls of slaves, from the Transatlantic slave trade that were thrown off the boats into the ocean are her children, citizens and warriors now. She comforts them eternally & they live in paradise. That doesn’t mean all of these souls are at rest, plenty continuously ask their mother if they will be avenged, especially the young children. She also has a close connection with the Indigenous Taino. The isle of Hispaniola also known as Haiti (Ayiti) & the Dominican Republic is her most known domain. 

Let’s not act like slavery and colonization was a cake walk. Rape was common place and mermaids, water spirits offered African and Indigenous women protection and power over men. They became demonized overtime for their hypnotic powers and killing men, who often overstepped their boundaries. Women could leave offerings to these spirits, work or commune with them and be quickly avenged or gain great power and wealth. All of this was threatening to the white patriarchal standard.

La Sirene’s presence in Haiti and other merfolk tales that float around the Caribbean/West Indies, is not without purpose. She has ties to many people and many different cultures. Her sacred symbols are global. This is why I speculate she is much older than people think. La Sirene, is a fairly young evolution. She clearly has ties to much older things. Her older names might have been lost but she has evolved, to save her self and also document other forgotten elements of history in the process. There are those who speculate that La Sirene is the embodiment of a cross mixed culture, the evolution of Indigenous & African water spirits combined, due to the excess trauma of colonization and so the Mermaid Queen was born. Others will argue that she is the Orisha Yemaya but a newer avatar of her.  I hate to argue semantics but I will say this, she exists and her presence is felt to this day, all around the world. 

La Sirene is often depicted as a mulatto woman with eyes like the sea but if you have been blessed to see her in dream state, she does appear sometimes as a brown or dark skinned skinned woman of possibly mixed Indigenous/African ancestry with glowing hypnotic eyes.  Alot of her older depictions, deal with colorism and slavery, but as things have grown in the modern world this imagery has begun to change. However mermaids, are known for their shapeshifting powers - to truly behold her true form, is a gift reserved for the rare few. 

As a keeper of the mysteries, La Sirene also access to many forgotten things in the black subconscious. The element of water is an intensely psychic sign.  Water is her domain, and what is the human body 80% of? WATER! The truth does not hide from her hypnotic eyes. This sacred connection to water and her essence, also means you can  track forgotten elements black history and connect to other deities/cultures who’ve had contact with her & her whole court or other black water spirits as a whole. So let’s take a short historical trip down memory lane.

The Greeks & Black women. Sirens, Aphrodite, Sibyls and other Children of Water 🧜🏾‍♀️

The deity Aphrodite/Venus is of Grecian and Roman legend.  

A little known magikal fact is that Aphrodite/Venus is half siren. She is a child of the water, she was literally birthed this way after Uranus got his balls cut off & thrown into the sea. Much of her Venusian influence and powers of love and beauty come from this element. Now my Mambo doesn’t like mentioning it but Aphrodite, is tolerated by the oceanic court of sirens/mermaids. Any child of water, falls under the domain of the queen. La Sirene has a sort of strange fondness for her and so does Aphrodite for her. However this doesn’t mean they are best friends.  It’s tentative friendship at best and comes with some perks. Aphrodite works quickly for children of water sirens and often will send mermaids to her devotees who misbehave. She has deliberately placed me around her people have pissed her off, to cause mischief. She’s quite petty but also  very generous. I won’t go as far to dare and say she is in the queen’s court, but she does curry favor with the queen. Being born of water, her half siren/mermaid influence has definitely attributed to legends of her beauty in myth but also her treachery with men 🧜🏾‍♀️😂. She clearly also has some sort of homesickness for the world underneath the water, because many of her offerings are gifts of pearls, kisses, sea shells, beauty products etc. Anyone who serves the Mermaid Queen knows the meaning behind those gifts. If you’re a black gyal with water or siren energy and decide to work with Aphrodite, do it!  If you ever irritate her, the least she’ll do is give you pimples and fuck up your skin, she won’t have the full power to completely fuck up your love life like she does with the white girls.  And let me tell you, she has completely ruined some white girls lives by giving them terrible lovers or men.  

The trident 🔱 is known for its connection in Greek and Hindu cultures.  However La Sirene or other African water spirits are depicted carrying it, which is largely ignored in the occult world.

You can track the trident in Hinduism, with the serpent spirits, the nagas or Lord Shiva but let’s focus on it’s Grecian connection. The usage of the trident and Poseidon, even in mainstream society today is associated with him.  This lets us know there is a connection between the mermaids, merfolk and La Sirene/African water spirits. Poseidon’s trident was rumored to made in Athens by the Cyclops - this is the city of Athena. So now we can track an element of black history all the way to Poseidon & Athena. Keep that in your thoughts we’ll come back to that later.

Tridents were also used ceremonially in Africa & India as well, as scepters, tribal weapons and religious symbols.

They were also associated with the sea faring people and fishing. It’s highly likely the origins of the trident are cross mixed between these two societies. Indo-African relations, go back to the Bronze age and the Indus Valley civilization. Which means traveling over by sea to reach each other was necessary. There is historical evidence of African millet being found in a Indian city Chanhudaro, including a cemetary or burial ground for African women.  Maritime relations between these two groups existed before Grecian & the Egyptian Ptolemaic dynasties.

Now of course there are some deranged historians that will try to whitewash history and say the trident has its origins from the labyrs but the Ancient Greeks & Africans/Indians interacted regularly. The trident also looks nothing like a labyrs, which is quite literally a double sided axe.  This is one of the more painful obvious pieces of white washing and historical revisionism. 

Regardless, the trident is associated with water, ceremonial/religious purposes, fishing, battling in the coliseum and the symbol of power for a few African,  Black diasporian an Hindu deities.

🧜🏾‍♀️ Oracles & Sibyls

Some sibyls/oracles were known to be African prophetesses/Mamissi to the Mami Wata/Sirens in Africa, some were stolen or captured by Greeks or Romans, sold into slavery and made to be oracles, some of whom became quite famous in legend. Their connection to these water spirits, is what gave them their gift of prophecy. Not every sibyl or oracle was African but SOME were.  This lead to the sharing and theft of sacred knowledge. It’s likely these women shared this sacred information, with their colleagues, some whom may or may not have been enslaved or kept in these temple and likely this information was traded, for their freedom, power or money etc. This gave way to the usage of sacred spirits and magick being used by men. A great example of this is the snake spirits of the genii, genius spirits (not to be mistaken with genies) and which then evolved into a diluted lesser energy in Greek society being known as daemons (not to be confused with goetic demons) Instead of a woman commanding these specific energies/spirits, the patriarchs decided that these specifics powers were only worthy of being used by men. These spirits were whitewashed, adopted into their religious practices and said to only be given to men at birth. No woman was allowed to possess them anymore.

🧜🏾‍♀️ The whitewashing of Medusa & Lamia. 

In mainstream society these two women stories have been white washed but also to hide a very shameful history and narrative. These two were beautiful women, in older stories of black black mythology were known to be black and they were children of water & daughters of the powerful water spirit/snake/siren divine mother/feminine goddess. 

Medusa was raped by the GREECIAN GOD OF THE SEA, POSEIDON  and Athena covered it up, refused to avenge her and punished her by making her ugly to everyone. It’s speculated in several magikal circles that the snakes in her hair were actually dreads, due to their lack of understanding of black hair and also allegorically might have been a reference to her devotion to the fish or water snake, great mother goddess. A child of the divine feminine, mother goddess was assaulted in a temple by a man and a woman covered it up & celebrated it.

Let’s start there ... cuz this story says a lot! It’s one of the first historical cases  in myth that really documents the issues that surround the black feminine specifically and it was intentionally whitewashed. Then to add insult to injury, Athena made her hideous to all men and her chopped off her head and used as a symbol of protection but also a subtle sign of disrespect to the fullest. This still goes on to this day.

In fact ALGOL, the demon star, which is considered to be strongest protective magick talisman in the occult world today is the HEAD OF MEDUSA. The child of water! BITCH! This energy is invoked constantly and the spirit of medusa is never allowed to rest.

However these egregious acts did not come without a price. Athena at time was a goddess of fertility. However desecrating a child of water or the sirens, is seen as an attack by the divine feminine and can will cause people to be afflicted with fertility and other mental health issues as well. This is speculative but it’s also likely that after this they were constantly visited by droughts, floods or repeating issues with water sanitation & purity after this. Lowered fertility rates and miscarriages might be more prominent, for Athenians and Athena devotees & likely continues to this day.

Devotees of Athena may also develop severe issues when it to their mental health because of this connection. They completely lose touch with their feminine energy and become extremely misogynistic after continued work with her.

Not only did Athena, cause Medusa to be seen as hideous throughout the land but she celebrated when she was murdered and proudly wore Medusa’s decapitated head on her shield. From the feminist eye this virgin deity/woman was extremely male identified and adhered to the patriarchal standard. She was tested by the divine feminine and failed.

Even more strange, Athena’s birth allegorically proclaims her essential character: her wisdom is drawn from the head of a male god; the bond of affection between father and daughter; her championship of heroes and male causes, born as she was from the male, and not from a mother’s womb. A dreaded goddess of war, she remained a virgin and a servant of the patriarchal society and remains so to this day. She is the misogynistic cool girl and very asexual at the core. In fact if you explore more of her mythos, it becomes very clear she hates women. I’m bewildered at how she has become associated with lesbians and the feminine at large, when it’s been very clear that she was intent on transcending her gender from the very beginning, but never managed to escape it.  

To top it off, I’ll leave you with this quote from Aeschylus’ Oresteia by Athena:

“There is no mother anywhere who gave me birth, and, but for marriage, I am always for the male with all my heart, and strongly on my father’s side. So, in a case where the wife has killed her husband, lord of the house, her death shall not mean most to me.”

Queen Lamia was a said to incredible beauty who seduced Zeus, (a literal man whore) which as made Hera jealous. Hera cursed Lamia with infertility and insomnia. She went insane and is said to have killed her own children and ate them. Zeus is said to be the one who gifted her prophecy and gave her the ability to take out her eyes, so she would not be irritated at the site of other happy mothers.

She became associated with a child eating monster who was half woman and half snake, which ties into the Libyan snake cults. She was associated with phantoms, the shapshifting laimai or empusai and the daemon spirits.

Medusa and Lamia were Libyan by heritage and came from a place in Africa where temples to the water snake mother goddess & divine feminine were common before they were destroyed by invaders intentionally. These women likely had extreme gifts of seduction, mind control and other abilities etc. It’s highly likely that Queen Lamia used her powers of seduction, at the behest of her people to save them from colonization and was demonized for it. Zeus’s temple was in Cyrene in Lybia, so this is far more than an allegorical story. This may be a real life story that was disguised in mythos. Unfortunately deeper research into this subject has turned up many dead ends for me. It’s highly likely Medusa was a priestess of the the matriarchal Mami Watas or water goddess/snake spirits and was likely raped intentionally in Athena’s temple, as a show loyalty to the rising patriarchy by descrating the symbolism of the great mother and the divine feminine. This was likely an attempt to lessen power and status of the matriachal societies that existed at the time. Rape was common war tactic amongst colonizers and news of such disgrace would likely spread like wildfire. This also solidified Athena’s place amongst the male gods and gaining her their respect. Athena and her devotees went a step further to show their allegiance to the patriarchy, by stripping Medusa of her beauty supposedly and exiling her, then parading her decapitated head on shields, when going into battle likely with Libyan enemies.

This is just a brief explanation of a few horrific acts in history, which were whitewashed & explain why the essence of the black feminine has evolved to become more protective, predatory and fierce. She learned to defend herself. Now she kills those who threaten her. 

Fun history tip: Usually anytime you see a snake in Grecian mythology, just know something got whitewashed, because the truth was really fucked up, made them look really bad & a black woman was there.

🧜🏾‍♀️ The black feminine is capable of more than you know.

Yes, mermaids/sirens/snakes & the mami watas can be scary at times but that’s what stepping into mysticism of deep waters is like. Water is capable of many things, it is one of the most powerful elements on earth. It can nourish you and kill you, and that’s the beauty of it really.

We should all be grateful the black feminine is so beautiful, fierce & scares the living daylights out of everyone.

You would be dead if it wasn’t.

[keepingsecretstokeepyoutk]

(Warning:this will be a serious, downer, post. And of course this is all hypothetical, my interpretation, etc.)

This week, with all of the attention that All To Well has generated (very well deserved attention and accolades) I’ve been thinking a lot about the speculation that if Taylor came out, it would be fine, no one would care (a sentiment even many Kaylors have expressed in recent months).

It’s hard to believe that after all of the ways that the gp and media have managed to twist her into a villain, that they wouldn’t find a way to do it with this too. But aside from the gp, her haters, and the media, I think the biggest concern by far, would be the reaction of her fans (or a good portion at least).

Taylor is known for having such a close relationship with her fans, not just because of her secret sessions or her paying for fans medical bills, tuition, showing up at weddings, sending Christmas gifts, etc. But also because her music has raised them. And as many have spoken about, especially recently with the rereleases, her music has given teen and young women a voice that we’ve never had prior. She has been so unapologetic with her emotions and female experiences while growing up, that it has made us feel unabashed about embracing our own. It has been a big part of many of our journeys in unlearning the misogyny we unavoidably internalized while being raised in this world.

A big part of that being-raised-female experience, for straight and bi women, is dating men, and the way that patriarchy and misogyny shapes those experiences with love and sex and dating. This is why It’s been on my mind. The response to All Too Well’s film and new lyrics, etc, has been intense. The narrative shown has been deeply, deeply cathartic, validating, and arguably a spiritual experience for so many women who have been through a relationship like the one that has been portrayed by the public narrative of the song.

Personally I think this is a beautiful silver lining of her being closeted at this time: that she can essentially be an “ally” to opposite-sex attracted women, and create art (most likely inspired by seeing these kinds of abusive relationships play out around her in the entertainment industry, and being a support and witness for her friends, etc) that gives voice to a deeply young-woman experience, just as she always has. And I would hope that her other fans could come to see it this way, that she made lemonade out of her glass closet. That her connection with her fans, even when perceived as being deepened by false narratives that she didn’t immediately disavow, has always been genuine and only ever grown out of her love for every single one of us and out of a deep longing to sit in our pain with us, even if it wasn’t exactly her pain.

But I’m worried that not everyone will see it that way.

I’ve always thought that the way the gp and media and fans would react to her coming out would be calling her a liar, that they would exclaim betrayal, paint her as deceitful and fake and emotionally manipulative of her fans who so deeply connected to her break up songs that were supposedly about men.

And that was before this week.

Assuming that JG is indeed a beard (not a real relationship amongst other beards), if that were to be revealed, the emotional reaction from the women who have found healing and solace and validation in that film and that song, is going to be strong. And I would imagine that many of them would feel betrayed, and since it would be a lot of people, that anger could easily whip itself into a frenzy that resulted in a public back lash as strong as the last dark days.

(She knows this. That’s why she wrote mirror ball — about being all different versions of herself, to please all the different people who NEED her to be something specific to them.)

Meanwhile, the conservative parents of girls who went to her secret sessions will be panicking that their daughters were alone with a lesbian. The GP will be saying she had no right to be upset about the way the media talked about her dating history when she fabricated it all anyways. For money. They’ll call her greedy and manipulative and now they’ll think they have proof of her “playing the victim” because she and JG “never even dated!” She’ll be painted again as a snake.

They won’t see her all too well rerelease as her way of giving her fans the catharsis and the validation and the representation that they deserved as women who often have their emotional experiences dismissed. That she cast Sadie and Dylan to a responsible role model, to undo the romanticization of age gap relationships that her songs and bearding stunts may have unintentionally contributed to in the past. They won’t think to see it as similar to the song Happiness - and emotionally deep and intense song informed by seeing her friends go through something that she hasn’t experienced but that she can give voice to with her art. That she was essentially being an ally to straight women in a way that she hopes they will be to her.

This is why, it wouldn’t shock me, and I would never judge her, if she never came out. Because more than anything, her fans matter to her. She would never want them to feel betrayed or mislead or disconnected from her and especially from her music, from her lyrics. Her words mean so much to so many people. And she may never be able or willing to risk that.

(Of course, she could come out as bi or unlabeled and say not a single thing about her songs that have been attributed more heavily to men, and maybe that would go ok, and maybe she would be very happy with that. I hope that could work for her. But people I’m assuming would still speculate on which bfs were real and which weren’t, which rumored female lovers were more than just rumors etc, and that may spark some of the same discussions as above. And besides, I just have a feeling that if Taylor was going to come out she would commit to making it a move that will pave the way for other closeted entertainers/sportsmen/etc and thus she would want to expose the homophobic higher ups who insist on bearding, hiding your same sex relationships, etc. Otherwise she would feel like it wasn’t enough and wasn’t worth the half truths)

I could literally talk about this forever but yeah, that’s the gist of it.

[usernamesuggestionsarefunny]

I hate how the mere fact Gunnar dies in "The Northman". He was such a sweet kid, and the way Amleth defended him was so moving, as if he saw himself as a child in him, the child he was before all the trauma.

I was sort of hoping Amleth would steal Gunnar and raise him as his own along with Olga instead (Just like he wanted to do before discovering her mother was straight up evil). If they made Fjölnir and Gudrún believe they had killed him in order to make them suffer, at least for a while before the climax where they both died, even better! lol

Would it be unrealistic for a child not to care about Amleth killing his parents and brother even if explained the reason why? Would it be unrealistic for that child to grow up loving his adopted parents and siblings in a culture as different and as "muh honor" based as that of the vikings? Would it be unrealistic for that child NOT to seek vengeance and thus break the cycle of violence? Would it break the rules of the saga genre, be unrealistic, too corny for the ~cool and shockingly violent~ Viking movie, too modern-values-way-of-seeing-the-world biased or whatever, blah blah, etc, etc? Don't know, don't care, and all those objections can go suck a dick.

I thought Uhtred (From The Last Kingdom) growing up identifying as a pagan Dane with 0 nostalgia for the Christian God and almost none for the Saxons after said Danes traumatized him and killed his father was unrealistic and dumb as fuck, especially considering he was 13, almost a teenager, not a small kid too young to remember his life with the Christians later on, but I didn't complain because ~vikings cool Christians lame or so the media goes~ , it was fiction, and there was a narrative reason to make the character that way. Same thing could have been said about Gunnar surviving his family's murder and being implied not to have grown up to seek revenge in the end. Edit: Especially considering I call bullshit on the idea that a woman as willing to discard her own children as long as she comes out on top wouldn’t display that same level of carelessness and even abuse in her parenting style, as the movie seems to imply. Being treated better by his new family would realistically have had an influence on Gunnar and how much he would have wanted revenge.

Amleth actively making the decision not to kill his half brother would have been far more powerful than him dying fighting the villain naked in a volcano (As cool, or hot * no pun intended * or amazing, or... accurate to the sagas? idk as that scene admittedly was). Why? Because that kid, Gunnar, was Amleth, an innocent child almost murdered for the terrible crimes of his father and the ambition of his uncle. Imagine the narrative acknowledging that, acknowledging it is wrong to kill children for what they MIGHT do in the future or the fucked up "evil runs in families" excuse even the villains in this movie use WITHOUT falling into the old "killing child murderers and slavers and murderers who gouge people's eyes out makes you just as bad as them or some shit" lame trope.

"Too much of a modern message for an ancient saga", you may say, but why should we care? Olga was a new addition, Amleth as a character was already molded to modern sensibilities in order to make him easier to root for:

1 Part of a slave trading culture, a warrior who raids villages for the purpose of slave trade-not actually shown kidnapping people nor selling them into slavery.

2 It is implied many of the women in the village were raped-it is nowhere implied Amleth has ever done this.

3 Nowhere is Amleth shown mistreating or massacring the villagers (He is just a passive bystander, which is easier for modern movie audiences to gloss over).

4 In fact, as the other men kill and mistreat people, Amleth appears to be somewhere between horrified by what he is witnessing everyone else do and numb to it after years of desensitization.

5 He never seems happy to be killing people, not even in battle.

5 Very respectful to women and all. Even his mother he is unwilling to harm.

6 He WAS planning to spare Gunnar before the evil mother reveal happened. He is protective over him as well.

7 The writers made him kill Gunnar in self defence instead of premeditatedly and he is even disturbed about it (Which I appreciate, actually, and I thought it moving and fitting for Gunnar to go down trying to avenge his mother, BUT it was such an OBVIOUS in-your-face COP OUT it is INSANE. It was clearly done that way to a) get rid of a character the writers were no longer using or thought had to die in order to tie up all loose ends of the revenge plot, b) doing so all without making the protagonist an unlikeable child murderering prick, and c) the fact Olga and her babies were living and the mother and uncle were going to be defeated by the main character made the ending far too hopeful in spite of his death, almost happy, too unlike the realistic, brutal story they were telling, so yet another child living was a no-no, they needed an ~obligatory shocking moment~ and since using rape is thankfully no longer as accepted, making the mc kill a child he was shown to have cared for was * it * this time).

8 He has some cool scenes where he frees slaves and saves a girl from being sacrificed, you can't get more "modern values instead of ancient pagan ones" than that.

Like, let's be real, the ninth century was ruthless. I don't doubt people like Amleth existed, people who deep down were compassionate and yet were surrounded by a normalized/ritualized sort of brutality they found hard to stand up against. I don't doubt they existed, but they must have been very, very rare. Even so, they make for the best protagonists in period dramas imo because I don't want to fucking hate the main character. I don't, I want likeable characters, and personally I ALSO prefer hopeful endings and good messages regardless of how "unrealistic" or "not the same tone" or "not fitting the values of that time" or "modern" or whatever they are.

Anyway, I actually loved the movie, like 9 out of 10, I really did. I didn't even mind the protagonist dying, it was for real just that one part, what they did with that child character in particular that I personally found to be wasted potential, deeply unsatisfying, and disappointing. Like, not even an hour after watching the movie as it usually happens when I have issues with certain scenes, but right as it was happening.

For real, I hope I am not crazy and that fanfic writers see the same thing I do lol

[xjoonchildx]

guilty | knj x reader | chapter one: how odd

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 2.8K

notes: you guys have been so amazing with your feedback on “guarded” and it warms my heart that you loved hoseok and ms. kim -- so it’s time to show mr. kim some love, too.  this series will not be long (probably three parts) but i had to break it into chapters because of the POV shifts. please let me know what you think about this chapter and as usual thank you so much to all the tiger wives and my amazing betas @ladyartemesia​ and @hobi-gif​.

this series is dedicated to the amazing @sahmfanficbts​ who is an incredible writer, an awesome woman, and kim namjoon’s number one fan.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

**********************

“You fired me?”

Namjoon turns at the sound of the quiet accusation that comes from over his shoulder.  

There is color in your cheeks as you cross the length of his office.  Your jaw is tight, one lock of hair falling free from the loose knot at the base of your neck. One perfectly-arched brow is raised high.

You look hurt.

Beautiful -- but hurt.

Guilt hits Namjoon like a freight train.

“Of course not,” he deflects, taking a seat.  He picks up one of the papers scattered across his desktop and pretends to read it carefully.  “I reassigned you to a position I believe will be a better fit.”

There’s no way he could miss the irritated breath you suck between your teeth but Namjoon keeps his eyes glued to that paper in his hand.  He realizes, absently, that it’s a takeout menu.

He hopes you haven’t noticed the same thing.

“Well, was there some kind of problem with my performance?”

Namjoon winces at the dejection in your tone.  He finally forces himself to meet your gaze and finds your eyes brimming with frustration.  

He certainly can’t blame you on that account -- you have every right to be frustrated.  You shouldn’t be made to feel somehow lacking when it’s him who is lacking in every way that counts.

“Quite the opposite,” he says carefully.  “I think it’s a waste of your skills to have you keeping my schedule and taking calls.  Seokjin can make better use of your talents on the business side.”

A strained silence settles over the room and Namjoon clears his throat before looking back down to his papers.

“Well, the new girl is terrible at this,” you say flatly.  “I certainly wouldn’t have let me walk in here unannounced.  She’s too busy looking at her phone to look after you.”

Namjoon knows you’re right about that.

In the few short months you’ve worked for him, you’ve proven yourself to be unnaturally attuned to his needs. You knew without asking which calls he was trying to avoid and when, when to clear his schedule the day after a rough night on the streets. You’ve kept his office stocked with every comfort he’d ever wanted and some he hadn’t even realized he wanted.  

You are the single best assistant he’s ever had and he couldn’t stand to keep you around for one minute longer.

You don’t wait for Namjoon to formulate some kind of response to your damning and accurate observation.  By the time he looks back up from his papers, you’ve already turned on your heels to leave.  

He watches you walk away with regret weighing heavy in his gut.

**************************

Namjoon’s keys clang loudly when he drops them on the table in his foyer.

This penthouse is the best apartment in one of the best buildings in Seoul.  It’s filled with lavish furnishings and expensive paintings and boasts a stunning view of the Han River.  It’s one of the finest residences in the city.

And Namjoon hates it.

The vacant rooms and the echoing walls seem to mock him, making him all the more aware of how empty it is.  How completely devoid it is of any life. Most nights he stays at the office until he’s delirious with exhaustion just so he can collapse straight into bed once he gets here. 

Tonight though, for once, this place seemed like a better option. 

Namjoon pulls off his tie and releases the first few buttons of his shirt before pouring a scotch.  

He’s drinking too much these days -- he knows it -- but the drinks help slow the constant movement of his mind.  They help dull the anxiety that seems to take over when he’s too still for too long.

He walks to the window to look out over the night sky.  

This is his favorite way to see the city -- high up enough that everything looks pristine.  Get closer and you’ll be assaulted by the noise and the crowds and the pollution.  Get closer and the flaws are too hard to ignore.

“Was there some kind of problem with my performance?”

Your words echo as clearly in Namjoon’s mind as if you’d spoken them out loud in this cavernous apartment. He takes a seat in his plush chair and sips his drink, savoring the familiar burn of the scotch.

He thinks back to when you both were kids.  

Your father -- one of the few decent men in his own father’s inner circle -- didn’t bring you around much.  He can only recall a few social functions you’d attended before taking off to university.  News of your father’s death came shortly after that and it had been years since Namjoon had even spared a thought for you.

Then you came walking through his office door.

You definitely weren’t a kid anymore, that much was clear.  

What was much less clear was why you -- a college graduate -- turned up one day, desperate for a job.  He hadn’t questioned your need for fast work and fast money and you hadn’t questioned the long hours and strange requests.

You repaid him with a flawless work ethic.

And he repaid you by fantasizing about fucking you blind over his desk basically every chance he got.

So yeah, there was a problem, all right.   

The problem was Kim Namjoon.

*********************

“There you are.”

The voice on the other end of the line practically slithers into Namjoon’s ear when he answers the late call. 

“Mina,” he sighs, infusing the name with a displeasure that comes through loud and clear across the connection.  “This line is for business only, you know that.”

Mina makes an exasperated sound.

“I wouldn’t have to call your cell if you’d return my messages from the office.  I’ve been trying to reach you for more than two weeks now. I’m starting to feel like you’re avoiding me.”

Namjoon pulls the phone away to allow himself a long exhale before putting it back to his ear.

“How did you get this number?”

“You’re hung up on that?” Mina groans. “Honestly, Namjoon.  I reached out to your new assistant who was more than happy to pass it along.”

Fuck. He’s going to have to fire the new girl, isn’t he?

“She’s a nice girl,” Mina muses.  “Far more competent than that last assistant of yours.  Excellent decision on replacing that woman if she fails to complete a task as simple as delivering a message. Three messages, actually.”

Namjoon mulls that information over in silence.

“Where is your mind these days, Mr. Kim?” Mina tries to cover her displeasure with a laugh but he hears it anyway.  “You’ve been so distant lately.  It’s been too long since we had the chance to enjoy one another’s company.”

Namjoon can envision the pout she is wearing on the other end of the line and it aggravates him beyond belief.  Pouting ranks near the very top of his least favorite female manipulation tactics. 

Pouting makes him want to put his fist through a wall.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes,” he mutters.  “I’m here.”

“Are you drunk?”

Namjoon grits his teeth, fingers tightening around his glass.

“No, Mina,” he grinds out. “Not drunk. Just not in the mood.  Not anymore.”

She sputters on the other end of the line as Namjoon ends the call.

Maybe he should feel bad about being so blunt, but he doesn’t.  It’ll be a week before she’s onto the next wealthy, connected man.  Women like Mina make sport of locating and latching on to power. 

She’ll survive.

Namjoon stares out into the night sky and sips his scotch, letting his mind wander back to the one piece of the conversation that did capture his interest.

What are the chances that you -- a woman with seemingly unerring attention to detail -- forgot to deliver three separate messages from the same caller? 

He contemplates that in the dark.

How odd.

***********************

YOU

Kim Namjoon was the most serious boy you’d ever seen. 

Even as a young man, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. You can still close your eyes and remember exactly how he looked back then -- standing solemn at his father’s side, lanky body swimming in a suit he’d not yet grown into.  His hair just a touch too long and falling into his eyes.  

You thought he was the most handsome boy in all of Korea.

Namjoon kept mostly to himself -- no easy task given that his status alone made him the most celebrated catch amongst the children of the Gajog.  

Everyone fought for the attention of the boy who would be king.  

It would have been so easy for him to abuse the power he had over his peers, to treat them with disrespect, but Namjoon never did.  You noticed how kind he was to the children who idolized him.  You noticed how well he managed the volatile moods of his alcoholic father.  You noticed how he hovered protectively over his sister.  

He never noticed you, of course.

Your own father was careful to limit your exposure to the Gajog and as such, you lived on the outskirts of the social circle.  By the time you were a teenager, you’d only spoken to Namjoon directly a handful of times.  The few times you did see him face-to-face, you’d had to suffer through that awkward moment before his eyes lit with recognition.  

It always took a minute for him to remember who you were, but when he finally did -- every time he finally did -- your heart would stop just a bit at his shy smile.  

That was the image you held on to when you held your breath and walked into his office a few months ago.  You’d taken a deep breath and prayed that the quiet, kind kid you’d known so long ago hadn’t changed too much over the years.  And then you stepped into his posh office.

Kim Namjoon definitely wasn’t a kid anymore.

The Namjoon who stood up from behind his desk to bow a greeting was nothing short of devastating.

Standing in place of the slender boy from your childhood was a man with deep, dark eyes and a striking, angular face.  His suit -- cut to fit every line of his body to an exacting standard -- did nothing to conceal his powerful frame.  He had grown into the full lips that once seemed a bit too large for his face. 

Without a doubt, he’d become the most handsome man in all of Korea.

The shy smile remained, though -- dimples prominent when Namjoon extended a hand to shake yours and you woodenly accepted, blinking back.  You’d realized, absently, that you were gawking.

You hoped he hadn’t noticed the same thing.

If Namjoon had picked up on your mortifying reaction to seeing him after all these years, he was far too much of a gentleman to let on.  He’d offered you a seat and then listened patiently as you explained that you were in need of a job -- any job -- so long as you could start right away.

You left out the painful details, of course.  

Namjoon nodded quietly as you outlined your education and qualifications and emphasized your willingness to serve the Gajog in any role he saw fit.  His eyes were warm and reassuring as you spoke, but you still braced yourself for the possibility that he’d send you away empty handed.

He didn’t.

At the end of your impassioned speech, Kim Namjoon made you an offer you could not refuse.  

Reporting directly to him and starting right away.

***************************

The serious boy you’d known so many years ago had grown into an even more serious man.

It didn’t take long on the job to notice the bone-deep melancholy that seemed to emanate from Kim Namjoon.  He was good at concealing it in front of others but you saw it clearly.  The way he would stand at his window at night, drink in hand, brooding.  The way the shadows behind his eyes would surface when he thought no one was looking.

But you were always looking.

You wanted so badly to help.  

You wanted to do something to help ease the burden he seemed to carry around at all times.  So you threw yourself into the work, memorizing his routines and taking note of the things he needed.  You organized his files.  You streamlined his schedule.  You ran interference on Yoongi and Hoseok and Seokjin on the nights when his moods turned dark and ominous.

Tiny gestures, in the grand scheme of things -- but there were days when you could convince yourself the gestures made a difference.

Days when Namjoon would look at you with a quiet appreciation that made you feel heat down to your toes.  Days when his eyes would soften as you’d instinctually met some need he hadn’t voiced out loud. Days when the darkness inside of him seemed to recede and one of those heart-stopping shy smiles would emerge.

You convinced yourself over time that this was enough --  that taking care of him like this would be enough for you.

It had to be enough. 

To allow yourself to imagine otherwise was nothing short of delusion.  

**********************

“Eomma?” 

You call out into the quiet as you lock the door behind you.  You can barely make out the sound of your mother’s soft reply from her bedroom.

This is where she spends most of her days now, shuffling between her bed and her chair, too weak to stand for more than a few minutes at a time.  Pill bottles litter the nightstand, obscuring the yellowing photograph of your parents as newlyweds.  

“My sweet Ttal,” she rasps, voice hoarse from disuse, “You’re home.”

“I am,” you sigh, sweeping into the room and pulling off your coat.  You bend down to drop a kiss on her forehead before taking a seat at her side.  Your mother’s once-luminous skin is now spotted with age, eyes cloudy and dull, but she is still one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen.   

She flinches when you take one of her hands into your much colder ones.

“Sorry,” you murmur, massaging over the paper-thin skin.  “It’s freezing outside.  I should have warmed them first.”

She gives your fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Home early again,” she croaks.  “Is everything okay at work?”

Her innocent question brings the sadness simmering just under the surface of your thoughts back to a full boil.  You still can’t understand why Namjoon chose to reassign you -- and you still can’t forget the sting of getting the news secondhand from your replacement.

Your face falls at the memory and you hope your mother doesn’t notice.  

The last thing you’d want to do is add worry to her already long list of concerns.

“Yes, Eomma,” you soothe, smoothing back her hair.  She leans into your touch with a tired smile.  “Everything is fine.  My new boss doesn’t keep me as late as the old one did.  But that’s a good thing, right?”

“Right,” she agrees, closing her eyes.  “Mrs. Sim left just a short while ago.  She brought some Japchae for dinner.  Not as good as mine, but not half-bad, either.”  

You laugh at the way the corner of her mouth lifts into a smile at her jest.  

People like Mrs. Sim are in large part why you’ve fought so hard to keep your mother here in your childhood home.  The financial strain has been tough -- particularly when paired with the medical bills -- but you need the help.  With no siblings to share your burden, you’ve had to lean on the goodwill of longtime neighbors.

“Leave Mrs. Sim and her Japchae alone mother,” you tease, standing to stretch.  “I’m going to get a shower before bed.”

Your mother makes a noise that sounds like approval, but you can tell she’s already drifting off again.  

She’s on so many pills these days; a blessing and a curse.  More pills means less pain and better rest -- something she desperately needs.  But more pills also means far fewer moments of lucidity -- much shorter windows of time for you to enjoy your mother’s quick wit and dry humor.

She’s back in a sleep state before you even make to stand.  You stroke your fingertips across her face just as your phone pings in your pocket.  You pull it out and very nearly dismiss the routine banking alert altogether -- but something catches your eye.

You swipe into the app to confirm you’re seeing the numbers correctly -- that your tired eyes and tired mind aren’t playing games with you.  

They aren’t.

The direct deposit of your paycheck is coming on the date it should, at the time it should.  But the number glaring back at you from the screen is higher -- much higher -- than it should be.

A demotion and a raise in the span of one week?

How odd.

******************************

GLOSSARY:

Gajog: Family

Eomma: Mother

Ttal: Daughter

tag list: @barbikatherine​

[lochsides]

If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power Review

Where do I even begin with 'If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power'? It is such a good album, it's almost criminal. If I had to pick the best album to be released this year, IICHLIWP would be it. Halsey has always been an excellent songwriter, that was never even in question, but it has been proved once again, in case anyone wasn't paying attention. IICHLIWP is an album that covers so much depth in sound and in lyric. The dichotomy of the Madonna and the Whore, as they said in their announcement of the album, is an overarching theme of IICHLIWP and it is articulated so consummately. The references to pregnancies and childbirth are more subtle than I expected but that's what makes them so genius. This is an album where every lyric is intentional.

My favourite songs are ‘The Tradition’, 'Bells in Santa Fe', '1121' and 'Ya'aburnee'. More detailed thoughts on each track are below the cut. Trigger warnings for sexual assault and miscarriages.

The Tradition — This is the first song on the album and Halsey had already fucked me up so there's that. I got full-body chills listening to 'The Tradition'. The production is masterful. There is this darkness that settles in early and ebbs and flows beautifully, not only throughout the song but the album as a whole. 'The Tradition' already sets up so many of themes of this album, but what a way to talk about sexual assault. I am in love with the entire chorus line but I think my favourite lyric is ‘she got the life she wanted but now all she does is cry.’

Bells in Santa Fe — The transition from 'The Tradition' into 'Bells in Santa Fe' was so smooth I didn't even notice that the songs had changed until I looked at my screen. I don't think I could actually describe how much I adore this song if I took up the rest of my life doing so. The production is absolutely God-tier. Everything from the way it keeps building throughout the song to the percussion to the piano on the second chorus and the distortion towards the end is so perfectly done. You will never hear me rave about production this much. What a fucking song! On top of all that, you have the lyrics that are so powerful. When they said 'cause who the fuck would chose this?' it reminded me of my favourite Manicsong, 'Forever... is a long' where they sing 'how could somebody ever love me?' so that stood out to me. I love the cadence on 'secondhand thread in a secondhand bed with a second man's head' but the lyric 'better off dead so I reckon I'm headed to Hell instead' is probably the one that hits the hardest. My escapist, runaway tendencies felt very exposed by the entirety of the pre-chorus.

Easier than Lying — The way she emotes on ‘you lair, you don’t love me’ is fucking everything. I needed to start with that. It’s my favourite aspect of the whole song. And then there is that obvious callback in the bridge. ‘Easier than Lying’ is the punk sound we were promised of IICHLIWP and they delivered. The Grungy electric guitar, the bass, the production!!! This one goes hard and it makes no apologies of it’s anger.

Lilith — ‘I’m disruptive, I’ve been corrupted, and by now I don’t need a fucking introduction.’ I mean what could I possibly say after that??! Honestly, I love the duality of how this line could be about Halsey but it could also be about Lilith, herself. There is a selfishness to 'Lilith' that I love. When you connect that to the mythology of Lilith preying on pregnant women and the context of this album — it's just got so many layers. Halsey's mind!! I love the sound of this song. The production has a classic rock flare to it. Those drums are so clean and the bass accompanies it perfectly. The smoothness of their vocal on this track is very pleasing to listen to.

Girl is a Gun — I'm not going to lie, this song isn't for me. I get it. The message is right up my street but the overall sound of it just isn't what I personally like. I do love their little laugh at the start! The lyric 'it's a shot in the dark, I'm not a walk in the park, I come loaded with the safety switched off' is my favourite.

You asked for this — This song is really interesting because they gave us a pop punk sound, pushed it to the back of the track, really grungey guitar riffs and all, but their voice is so light and delicate almost, very airy in a way that stands apart from the backing track. I really like it. To me, it's like an emphasis of the message of 'You asked for this'. Young women are oftentimes forced to grow up too soon and 'be a big girl.' Society forgets, I would even say purposely overlooks, that they are 'still somebody's daughter,' one of the few things that is used to give value to a woman. We've all heard people throw the phrase "but what if it was your daughter/sister?" into the conversation when discussing women that have somehow been abused by the patriarchy. 'You asked for this' also calls attention to how when we're younger, all we want is to be grown up but how unaware we can be of what it means to be a woman in this world, the trauma that comes with it.

Darling — The guitar in this song and it’s almost-country sound are what sets this song apart from the rest of the album. ‘Darling’ is a lullaby for their child, but it tells a story of their struggles. It is honest in a way that feels private. Motherhood sounds so good on them!! This song is just a collection of things I love in music. 'Darling' is soothing and it sounds like comfort, in both melody and lyric. 'Foolish men have tried but only you have shown me how to love being alive' is perhaps the softest lyric on the whole album.

1121 — I expelled a heavy sigh when I heard ‘1121’ it absolutely took my breath away*.* This song is a truly moving ode to an unborn child. So many people talk about how they had never known what unconditional love really meant until they had a child. Halsey tells it as such: ‘you could have my heart and I would break it for you.’ I love their vocal styling on this song so much, going between their lower register and those beautiful falsettos in the chorus. The overlapping on the bridge of ‘please don’t leave, don’t leave me in the shape you left me’ and ‘I’m running out of time to tell you, I’m running out of things that I regret’ and ‘you’d never, you told me’ really capture all the wide array of emotions felt by pregnant person upon finding out they are pregnant when they’ve dealt with miscarriage. Her voice emotes the fear of losing another child, the regret of the ones she's already lost, the promise, almost desperate, of the opportunity they have right now. All of these feelings are brought to life further by the production of the song. There is so much depth in '1121'.

honey — Pop punk wlw anthem check. Halsey suits this sound so much. This track, the production, the instrumentation, all of it catered to their voice so perfectly. The sound is so refreshing and yet so classic. I adore the melody. It’s unsuspectingly catchy. I wonder if there are links to ‘Lilith��� with ‘she’s mean and she’s mine’ or if I’m just reaching. Either way, a song about a love that is a little chaotic and wild, sign me up!

Whispers — Whispering on a song called 'Whispers' might be obvious but I'm a basic bitch so leave me alone, I loved it. Lyrically, 'Whispers' was the song that I saw myself in the most. When she said 'camouflage so I can feed the lie that I'm composed,' I just felt far too exposed for comfort. Same thing with 'I do not know me.' And that's what art is supposed to do. The instrumental is haunting and dark. The way they create tension by adding in one instrument at a time. The production is amazing. Top 5 shit right here!

I am not a woman, I'm a god — Not only does this song have the catchiest hook, it’s literally ‘I am not a woman, I’m a god. I am not a martyr, I’m a problem. I am not a legend, I’m a fraud so keep your heart ‘cause I already got one.’ That hook right there tells you everything you need to know about this song. ‘I am not a woman, I’m a god’ acknowledges that one needs not be a woman to create life. They are claiming power to their gender identity through relation to Godliness. Even in the other lyrics, they talk about being ‘a different human in a new place’ or ‘a better human with a new name’ (this line in particular draws direct parallels to trans experiences). Both times, they specifically use ‘human.’ The production of this song is designed to be a single. It’s got the signature darkness of this album, tells the listener where Halsey is at sonically, and it’s a total banger.

The Lighthouse — The way this song just comes in swinging right away with the distortion and the heavy guitars is exactly what I expected from this album going into it for the first time. Very modern punk rock. And the lyric doesn't pull any punches either. 'From a tender age I was cursed with rage,' like c'mon!! I love the melody and her vocal inflations throughout the song. This is the longest song on the album but it doesn't drag. The change up right before the outro really helps with that. I find that outro so interesting. The contrast between the instrumental constantly building but their voices staying so far in the back on the track creates so much tension that is relieved in the best way possible with 'Ya'aburnee'.

Ya'aburnee — ‘Ya’aburnee’ is the perfect conclusion to this album. Halsey said in their Apple Music interview that IICHLIWP is about the power to choose and by the end of the album you realise that they choose love. This song perfectly embodies that. It’s familial. The entire chorus talks of seeing yourself in your kin and the circle of life. The second verse is a clear love letter to their partner and it makes me emotional, knowing their romantic history as we do, to hear them sing ‘wrap me in a wedding ring.’ I love how the lyric ‘you will bury me before I bury you’ is not only a statement of their hopes that they don’t have to live in a world without their loved ones, a statement of how parents should never have to bury their children, but it almost sounds like a protective promise that they will do anything to ensure their loved ones are kept from harm so as not to need burial. The softness of the instrumental on ‘Ya’aburnee’ is feels like unwinding from the rest of the record. It’s such a beautiful song.

[lost-in-fanfic]

The Woman - Thomas Shelby x Reader  (Part 1)

A/N : I could not get this idea out of my head so I’ve had a go at writing it down. I hope people enjoy it :) I want to do the idea justice so am going to split into parts. Not my GIF and I don’t give permission for anyone to use my work.

Warnings : Reference to past abuse, mentions of murder, to be honest the usual things you’d expect from a Peaky fic.

A brief summary: (Y/N) has come to Small Heath with a job to to, a job she’s done before, but never has she come into contact with anyone like Tommy Shelby.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word Count: 1464

Walking into The Garrison that night none of the Shelby family noticed anything untoward, there was the usual smell of stale smoke mingled with the scent of working men and the sounds of drunken conversations, but nothing to suggest any danger.  They made their way into their private snug and Harry, the bar keeper, followed quickly behind with glasses and a bottle of Irish whisky.

What they should have noticed was the man in the corner, on the opposite side of the front door to the snug, with his head resting on his left hand, his hat pulled over his eyes, a glass of whisky in front of him and lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. If any of them had noticed him, they would have seen that the man apparently drinking himself into a stupor had his cigarette dangling from surprisingly feminine lips.

(Y/N) had decided upon disguising herself as a man, when going to The Garrison that night, as soon as she had arrived in Small Heath the day before. Part of her job, her survival mechanism, was to blend in. She would simply become part of the surroundings allowing her to go unnoticed until it was simply to late for the person, she was watching to do anything except surrender. Most of the time the fact she was a woman worked in her advantage, men seemed to pay so little attention to women that she could slip past all their protection and defences with just a smile. The Garrison, however, had not struck her as the sort of place a woman could sit quietly and not draw attention to herself.

Another part of her job was research, and she was very thorough. When the Shelby’s had walked in, she had known exactly who was who. Polly was easy to spot, the strong matriarch commanding the room as soon as she entered, a woman who was used to respect. Next were Arthur and John, the eldest and the third of the brothers, both had a smile on their face and a glint in their eye that suggested they were there for a good night. Last in was Tommy Shelby himself, he was the only one whose eyes even passed over (Y/N) as he scanned the room. (Y/N) could not help but admit to herself that he was just as handsome and intimidating as she had heard and yet he was the one she was here to kill.

(Y/N) tried to never lookback in life, the past held no happy memories for her so why dwell in it? Growing up in an orphanage, where there was no kindness or love, it had been a case of become hardened to pain or break. The first person she had killed had been in self defence when she was 14, she did not even know his name. The home, if you could call it that, she had been living in at the time was being visited by one of their generous benefactors and he had decided that the cost of his donation was her. Well (Y/N) had other ideas about that and when he laughed at her asking him to stop, she had swung a log from the basket next to the fire at his head. The sickening crack and the way he fell to the floor should probably have made (Y/N) vomit, but instead she took his wallet, rings and watch and climbed out the window.

Since then, she had grown a business in an underground and dark world and what she did, she did well. There were rules of course, every business had to have rules, she would not do anything if a child would see or be at risk, she would always do her own research, get half the money upfront every time and never meet with a client face to face so they would always assume she was a man. Who would ever look for a woman when they were expecting a hardened hitman? The most important rule, however, was that she would not kill if she didn’t think they deserved it. For example, she often took care of abusive husbands whose wives had grown tired of abuse, but she had refused a job offered to her by a Lord who wanted the man his daughter had eloped with killed. The Lord had written that his daughter had been tricked and was stuck in the marriage against her will, but (Y/N) had done her research. Watching them from a distance it was clear they were in love and happy, so she had returned the money, refused the job, and warned the couple just what the woman’s father was capable of.

Being in Birmingham for over 24 hours had allowed (Y/N) plenty of time to investigate what sort of man Tommy Shelby was. His reputation was known even in London where she lived, but she had not been hired to kill him because of his reputation. There was a story, a specific reason that she had been given, to justify what she had been paid to do, and until she had checked out if that story was true, she couldn’t make the decision about whether or not to carry out the hit. She was staying at a boarding house run by a lady called Mrs Bathurst, who had thought nothing of renting a room for a week to a young woman who was in Birmingham to visit friends and attend a job interview. Mrs Bathurst was a lonely woman, who after a few gins had a loose tongue, last night she had happily regaled (Y/N) with stories she had heard at the market about the leader of the Peaky Blinders and how he had almost been brought down by a woman.

Putting out her cigarette and drinking the remnants of her whisky, (Y/N) took a piece of paper out of her pocket and a pen. Scribbling a quick note and folding it up she walked out of The Garrison, completely unnoticed by every man in there. Across the street she saw a boy kicking a ball against the end of the row of houses. Recognising him as the youngest Shelby she quietly walked up to him. “Finn isn’t it?” the boy jumped at her words turning around to face her he was baffled as to why the woman was dressed like a dock worker. “Who’s asking?” he said, puffing out his chest and standing up as tall as he could. “I’m a friend of Tommy’s, I forgot to give him this, but I’m in a massive hurry would you run it into him?” (Y/N) held out the note to Finn, her voice was so calm and confident that Finn didn’t even doubt her, but he had learnt enough to know nothing was free. (Y/N) chuckled to herself “I’ll give you a sixpence to do it. A bob if you don’t read it” Finn smiled and held out is hand “Shilling” he answered. Pulling the shilling out of her pocket and handing it to him with the note she smiled and walked off down the street.

Tommy leant back in his chair not really listening to what Arthur and John were arguing about and certainly not paying any attention to the look he was getting from Polly. It was a mix of worry and expectation and she had looked at him like it for the past year. Ever since Grace had left. Finn suddenly burst through the snug doors a look of glee on his face. “Look I got a shilling of my own,” he said holding it up for his brothers and Aunt to see, “I earnt it myself, so can I bet with it tomorrow on the horses?”

“No, you bloody can’t.” snapped Polly, Finn’s face falling. “What did you do to earn that shilling then Finn?” Tommy asked looking at his brother, a feeling of sympathy deep in him, he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of a snapping Polly. “Lady give it me, said I could have it if I gave you this and didn’t read it. Funny lady though, she was dressed up like a docker.” Finn held out the note to his brother. Tommy’s brow furrowed as he took the note.

Mr Shelby,

I have been hired to kill you. Before I decide if I will, I would like to meet you.

9am tomorrow in The Garrison, just you or I won’t come. I promise not to kill you in the meeting.

W

Tommy bolted out onto the street and looked around, but it was useless, there were simply to many people around to know who to look for. He had already decided though, he would be back here tomorrow morning at 9am.

@comebackjessica​

[politalysis]

# What has happened to JK Rowling?

Growing up in the early 2000s immediately made Harry Potter a huge part of your childhood. Even if you never read the books or watched the films, you can probably name the three main characters. Even if you weren’t interested in Harry Potter in the slightest, you probably know your Hogwarts house. It’s incredible what Harry Potter did for our generation all over the world. Children would stay up on their eleventh birthdays anxiously awaiting a Hogwarts acceptance letter, knowing full well that owl was never going to come. Our imagination kept the dream of going to Hogwarts and learning magic alive anyway. Even now at the age of 23, I can for the most part keep a conversation flowing with anyone who has read the books or even just watched the films. You could even go as far as to say it was our generation’s Lord of the Rings.

JK Rowling came from very humble beginnings. She suffered with depression in her childhood and early teens, and lost her mother to multiple sclerosis in 1990. These struggles inspired her a lot when writing Harry Potter. She channeled her grief and pain into her writing. In 1992, she married a man she had met whilst living in Portugal, but Rowling suffered domestic abuse at his hands and the couple separated a year later. She lost her job and moved to Edinburgh in Scotland, where she had to sign up for welfare benefits, which left her a poor and depressed single mother spending her time writing in coffee shops. When she finished writing Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, twelve publishers rejected the opportunity to publish the book. Once someone finally agreed to publish the book, it became the best selling children’s book of the year.

We all know how the story goes from there. Rowling wrote six more Harry Potter books, eight films were made, and Rowling went from a poor vulnerable single mother to a multi millionaire in the space of a few short years. Harry Potter is now a global brand estimated to be worth about $15 billion. The last four books have each consecutively set the record for the fastest selling book in history. Rowling is now the richest author in the world, with a net worth of $92 million. But as well as money, JK Rowling has over 14 million followers on Twitter. This gives her massive influence as well as money. Rowling seemed to initially use this influence for good, spreading mental health awareness, LGBT inclusivity, interacting with fans and creating a website for all us Harry Potter fans to determine our houses and let our wands choose us.

I remember being 8 years old when Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince was released, and I was attending a religious school where some parents complained and called to ban Harry Potter over the controversial decision JK Rowling made regarding Dumbledore’s sexuality. Rowling had made the claim that Dumbledore was gay. Looking back, the controversy was ridiculous and I can only imagine how embarrassed some of those parents must be. I also remember as I got older, re-reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows I noticed more that the emotion behind Dumbledore’s relationship with Grindelwald was one he held with a romantic love. So years later, when several members of the LGBT community attacked Rowling for only deciding Dumbledore’s sexuality after the books were written, I publicly defended her with my knowledge that that simply wasn’t true. I had this image of Rowling in my mind, that she had always been on the right side of this debate. She had always been inclusive and supportive of LGBT people as far as I could see, and I just didn’t understand the issue. Rowling had always expressed a centre-left political perspective, and although I didn’t agree with all her views, they seemed relatively uncontroversial.

When Harry Potter and the Cursed Child was released, I hated it. It was a literary disaster, completely disrespectful of the original book series, the characters were a shell of the characters we had grown up with, the plot was almost deliberately ridiculous and overly elaborate and I immediately dismissed it as not canon. I have never forgiven JK Rowling for publicly stating the book was canon. She almost destroyed a whole two decades of her own hard work and the franchise that she’d built that had been like a home for a whole generation. All because she wanted to grab a few extra quid for a terrible book she didn’t even write. To this day I can’t help but wonder if she has even read the book. If I had written the masterpiece that is Harry Potter, I would view the Cursed Child as an insult. Perhaps I’ll even write a review one day, just for fun. Rowling also annoyed me by going back on her story, regretting pairing Ron and Hermione together and not pairing Hermione with Harry. Ron and Hermione are my favourite couple from the story, and their relationship had so much meaning. I couldn’t believe that the author who wrote such a clever and consistent relationship between two beloved characters could ever regret it. At this point in my life, I was beginning to wonder if perhaps Rowling was losing her mind. It was almost like she was trying to destroy her legacy.

As more years passed, the Fantastic Beasts films were released. The first film looked promising, but the second film was yet another disaster. Again, it was inconsistent with the franchise as we knew it, for some reason Hogwarts was full of people wearing 3 piece suits instead of the robes they wore in the Harry Potter series and Minerva McGonigall appeared as a teacher despite the fact that canonically there is no way she could have been old enough. The film was a disaster with both fans and critics hating it. Amongst this mess came controversy in December 2019. Rowling lost all respect she had once held amongst the transgender community when she made a public statement supporting Maya Forstater, a British woman who lost her employment tribunal case against her employer who fired her over transphobic comments. Six months later on June 6 2020, Rowling criticised the term “people who menstruate” and stated: "If sex isn’t real, the lived reality of women globally is erased. I know and love trans people, but erasing the concept of sex removes the ability of many to meaningfully discuss their lives." Rowling’s views on these issues were heavily criticised by GLAAD and even by the actors from the Harry Potter movies including lead actors Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint and Emma Watson.

Rowling published a 3,600 word essay in response to the mass criticism of her views four days later. The essay did her no favours, as she wrote: “When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside.” She seemed to be suggesting that trans women are often just men disguised as women in order to trick or even harm other women. This obviously angered the transgender community even more, and women’s refuge shelters that allow trans women were reporting no rise in violence as a result, children’s charities that support gender non conforming children were criticising Rowling, she was being made to give back awards and ultimately Rowling was labelled a Trans exclusionary radical feminist, a term often abbreviated to TERF.

JK Rowling is the perfect example of how money and influence can make someone forget their roots so easily. For someone who survived poverty, domestic abuse and sexual assault, she is so lacking in self awareness and how the things she has said and done can be harmful to transgender people. It is widely reported that transgender women are at more risk of harm in female restrooms than cisgender women. With acceptance becoming the norm, transgender people are feeling more safe to come out now than ever before, and so the rise in numbers of the community is huge, especially amongst our generation who grew up with Harry Potter. For a young transgender teenager to grow up wondering how Hogwarts would accommodate them, only to hear the author who gave us Hogwarts in the first place disapprove of equal rights for transgender people, must be very disheartening. However, JK Rowling has proven that she has no idea how powerful the legacy her books created really is. She was tasked with following up the Harry Potter series, and what she gave us was inconsistent and very poorly written screenplays. I have read better sequels on tumblr. Lots of them. Hogwarts doesn’t belong to JK Rowling, it belongs to the fandom. And I’ll be willing to bet my last penny that if Professor McGonigall witnessed any bullying of transgender students in her classroom (or indeed the girls bathroom!) she’d absolutely defend the victim without a moment’s hesitation. Hermione would decorate the Gryffindor common room with little blue, pink and white flags in support of a transgender first year who’d just been sorted into Gryffindor. Luna Lovegood would sit and befriend any trans student who looked lonely, and Ginny would dish out a bat bogey hex to anyone who dared pick on them. No matter what JK Rowling thinks, Hogwarts is not hers to ruin. It is ours. Regardless of what makes us different, Hogwarts is our home.

[thegeminisage]

I'm so sorry if this is rude or disrespectful, I just wondered if you think Mary Winchester was a bad parent too?

WELL first of all i don’t think mary has ever done anything wrong in her entire life even when she did so jot that down

by which i mean i AM a mary winchester apologist. if she ever did do anything wrong no she didn’t. if she does have shitty taste in men no she doesn’t. you see what i’m saying? and by the way like fuck the audience for not loving to her just because she had her own agenda and wasn’t always bending over backwards to take care of dean’s pwecious wittle feewings. like he’s a grown-ass man. why were we STILL expecting the women in his life to do that kind of emotional labor for him in 2016 smh this is why she got refridged i’ll be bitter about it until i die

but to actually attempt to put all of that down and answer your question: i think she just wasn’t a parent. like i don’t mean in the deadbeat way i mean she LITERALLY wasn’t there to do any parenting. by the time your kids become adults 95% of your parenting duties are finished - mostly older parents of adult children offer wisdom and emotional support/a financial safety net in trying times, right? but when mary came back, she was YOUNGER than them; what wisdom did she have to offer? same on the other two fronts - finances mean nothing in supernatural, and as for emotional support, she had just lost her entire life and gotten captain america’d 33 years forward into the future to, again i stress this, HER CHILDREN BEING OLDER THAN HER. she couldn’t offer any emotional support because she was the one needing it...and dean kind of screwed the pooch on that one, because he needed some serious emotional support himself, and he threw a tantrum about not getting it from her, about her not being the mom he remembered.

and as an aside: speaking on the mary dean remembered, i DO think she was a good parent for the first four years of dean’s life. she tried to keep her voice down on the phone when she fought with john, and tried to convince john to come home to their kids - even when she disappeared for a few days to go on werewolf hunts, there’s no evidence that she didn’t believe she was leaving her kids in capable hands (because i also prefer to think that john was a decent parent/person before the fire; it’s more fun and fucked up that way). we know she fed dean and made him feel safe because he has fond memories of both. and she REALLY wanted to be a mother - this mothering urge never really left her (look how she throws longing glances at children and parents in public, look how she is with jack - she never totally stopped missing her little boys). there’s no reason to assume she didn’t give it her all. 

but again, once she’s back, there’s not much parenting left to be done, and what there is left to do is all stuff she’s incapable of. even after mary and dean made their peace and formed a stronger, more honest relationship after the end of s12, i’d argue that it’s not a mother and son relationship. she’s a little motherly with him sometimes as a treat to them both; she wants to mother, and he wants to be mothered. but they’re sort of just tacitly agreeing to play pretend because it makes them both happy - she’s still younger than him, and he’s still as protective of her as ever, just the same way he’s protective of john and sam. 

so if they’re not mother/son, what are they? well, mary and dean both functionally filled the gap as john’s spouse, so instead i think they act as peers/equals/maybe even siblings? even though we don’t see as much of mary and sam’s relationship (which is a SHAAAME) i’d argue that the two of THEM have a more traditional mother/son dynamic. mary is one of the people who falls in next to dean as sam’s co-parent (along with cas, who DEFINITELY doesn’t have a parental dynamic with sam, but functionally protects him at all costs like a parent would because that’s what dean does and dean is his life partner).

so all of that is to say: no, i don’t think mary was a bad parent simply because she never got to BE a parent. we don’t really know what kind of parent she would have been - when your kids are that young it’s hard to fuck it up as long as you keep them fed and cared for and don’t neglect or abuse them. we never got to see her do the hard childhood/teenhood stuff and we never will! like she simply was not there because she was like, dead. i guess some people might blame her for being dead (like john...) but one could also argue she’d have never made the deal if she had known how it would have turned out. 

but i think what matters most in the end, to both mary and her boys, is that she’s there and they’re not on the outs with each other. the winchesters have such fucked up and complicated family dynamics that that’s pretty much the best you can possibly expect, so it makes me happy that they got there for a little while <3 even if it got ruined later :/

[spn masterpost]

[liberty-barnes]

Hi Libby!

I'm curious to find out what's your take on Sam and Aaron Taylor-Johnson's marriage. Because I really believe she groomed him.

She knew he was a teenager and went after him anyway. She said there was no funny business happening during the set of 'Nowhere Boy', but then she also said that everyone knew that's something's up. She's also his boss at that time, so sus. People keep saying that, 'Oh, he's legal' and 'Oh, he's a grown man'. It is absolutely irking, because had the roles been reversed, it would face double the amount of scrutiny it is facing now. Instead of 'He got lucky', it would be, 'He's a monster, a pedophile' or 'He should be in jail'. This belief never benefited anyone; it only strips survivors, male survivors of abuse specifically of validation, and proper rights to justice.

Anyway, there are so many shady details that come with these two, I can't type them all.

Thanks for reading my very angry thoughts at 11 pm GMT+8 xx

hi lovely!

ooh, smart and controversial discourse, love that, you're welcome to rant in my inbox whenever you want, doll.

so, i didn't follow his career very closely before or after the mcu, but i did see that and it made me a bit icky so i did some research at the time. in my opinion, if you don't agree with something, you have to really look into it and ask yourself "does this make me uncomfortable cause i don't like it" or "does this make me uncomfortable cause something fishy's going on" and it did strike me as kind of strange.

the double standards in the industry when it comes to dating are undeniable, just like in the rest of society. younger men are expected to chase after older, richer women, cause it makes the patriarchy feel like they "tamed another beast". even though it's not right, married women are seen as less powerful than celibate ones, because it's still common for the husband to have control.

i think that's why most people skimmed over that. it didn't bother men cause "good for him, he got himself a rich, hot beast" and for those who didn't like it, the "he's legal" argument was there.

so let me tell you straight up what i think about that "they're legal" argument. people that use "they're legal" as an excuse scare me, cause for them, as long as the law says it's okay, then it's okay. they don't question it, they don't research it, they just follow like nicely trained monkeys. there's nothing more dangerous to the free world than people who blindly follow orders, that's what makes dictatorships thrive. in order for this to be a democracy, people need to question, to research, to demand explanations when things seem to be done in a bad way.

cause that's a bit of what this was. he was legal, but barely so. he wasn't even old enough to drink in the us (which, sucks to be you btw, europe's much better in that sense) and he was supposedly old enough to understand he loved a woman who a)is 23 years older, b) was his boss and c)was his boss in his breakthrough movie. i mean, didn't even know that aaron taylor-johnson was his married name, cause i never knew him when he was just aaron johnson.

that's all kinds of weird.

so if we ignore the age part, cause hey, we're not here to judge the age difference, that's not my point. she was his boss which always makes me cringe cause that's bit unprofessional, but Nowhere Boy was aaron's breakthrough movie, it's the one that really got him out there. could he have gotten another breakthrough? yes, i believe he's a very talented actor and he would've still made it to where he is today, perhaps by another way. but he didn't.

he had to be thankful to her and admire her for giving him a shot, especially being that young, so was it love at first? i'm not so sure.

it might have been admiration, gratefulness, and i doubt he was the one holding/sharing the reins in the relationship at first.

is it possible that he fell in love with her afterwards? absolutely, the foundations over which they built their love and relationship are just shaky cause what happens if one day he realises that "hey, it sounds a bit like i was lured into a relationship and stayed there cause i didn't know better"? they met, got engaged a year after, and it might be a bit fast for his age.

so yeah, i forgot where i was going with this, but to sum it up, there was definitely a weird start to their relationship, and i don't know how it's gonna evolve.

but at the end of the day, they've been together for over ten years and both seem happy in their relationship, so i don't wanna judge them if it works.

it's a weird situation cause half of me is screaming "grooming, weird start, what even is legal age?" and the other is screaming "they're happy, let them love".

so yeah, what i think about their relationship is that i honestly don't know. i think i'd rather focus on his career, watch interviews, and keep an eye out for signs of discomfort when their relationship. i hope they have people in their life with enough critical thinking to intervene if necessary, but until that's necessary, i guess we'll just support him in any way we're comfortable.

hope that helped cause i'm not even sure i understand half of what i wrote lmaooo

feel free to send me more of these, i love it when you guys make me think

-Love, Miah

[markynaz]

7/26

Belief / Dragons Written for @tes-summer-fest 2021 Wordcount: 3146 Content Warning: slight emotional abuse mentions, as appropriate when discussing Bastian Hallix's upbringing AO3 Mirror: here

“And who’s your favorite Divine?”

It was a common question for children in Daggerfall, usually asked in lieu of the small talk one would make with adults. It wasn't exactly proper to ask a child - no matter how well bred - about court gossip, or the price of bolts of Redguard cloth, or the war news that was on everyone else's lips. And it was unspeakably gauche to ask a child about their parents or family. A society as full of intrigue and gossip as the Bretons cultivated couldn’t stand for a child’s truth in any answer. No well-bred Breton of any variety would even think to put a child in the place of guarding family secrets.

So, inoffensive questions it was, and Bastian Hallix, ward of the influential Silvelles, had grown quite sick of them all by the time he was old enough to hide his annoyance.

The one about the Eight Divines was perhaps his least favorite. The easy answer was Julianos, protector of mages, but admitting it would mean admitting his magical aptitude - something the Silvelles were loathe to have Bastian say in company for reasons of their own. Barring that, it would have been easiest to make up a stock answer and stick with it, but lying never sat right with Bastian.

He was thinking about this instead of listening to the priest one Sundas afternoon. They sat - him, Quistley, and the Lord and Lady Silvelle - on the cushioned pews in King Emeric’s chapel, the sun glittering in through the stained glass windows and setting every piece of pristine silver or gold in the place glittering. Large statement jewelry was in fashion that summer. It was a fad from Cyrodil, according to Bastian’s tutors, and the concave silver brooch on Lady Silvelle’s breast was reflecting sunlight right into Bastian’s eye. He looked up to avoid the glare and examined the artful stained glass windows of the Divines while the priest started another prayer for the war effort.

Mara, goddess of love, was the first his eye fell on. Bastian stopped himself from making a face. He remembered, very faintly, thinking she was pretty at one time - remembered her being his favorite Divine when he was very, very young. Every artist put such an expression of goodness in her countenance that her face was always the first Bastian looked for. But… it was hard to believe in Mara, knowing what he knew of marriage from Lord and Lady Silvelle. Knowing what he knew of love from them, and from his brother, Quistley.

A priest had once told Bastian that Mara’s love was unconditional. Bastian didn’t think there was such a thing, but he supposed if there wasn't, Mara wouldn't still be watching over the world.

Her gentle face made him sad. He shifted his gaze.

Arkay, god of death and cycles. His sphere sounded more serious than the stained glass looked. He had one hand raised, and a kindly expression, so much that Bastian could almost forget or ignore the dead wolf at his feet and the graves filling the background of the picture.

When he'd been particularly angry with Quistley once - actually lost his temper on his foster brother, an incident that made his ears burn with shame to recall - he'd been quietly pulled aside, still fuming, by a priestess of Arkay who’d seen the whole of the confrontation. Quistley had run off to his parents, Bastian assumed to tell them how he'd behaved, and he was in no hurry to follow. Going with the priestess to calm down was by far the most agreeable option.

She'd had him hold the holy oil she was using to bless unmarked graves of paupers and disgraced women and men in the back alleys of Wayrest, talking softly to him in between murmuring prayers to her Divine. Cycles showed in life as well as death, she'd said. Bastian might have been angry with Quistley then, but one day Quistley would be angry with him, and he should always try to model the behavior he'd like shown to him in the next cycle. And - because she was a priestess of Arkay - she had added, one of them would very likely outlive the other. A life spent in cycles of rage was one the survivor was very likely to regret.

It had made sense to Bastian once he'd calmed enough to hear words. He'd returned to Lord and Lady Silvelle resigned to whatever punishment they'd assign him, and hoping to be a better brother and foster son going forward.

And then he'd found out, upon returning, that Quistley hadn't said a word to his parents, and was going to use Bastian’s fit of temper to blackmail him into doing favors for the next half year.

Bastian was fairly sure Arkay would never be his favorite Divine. Quistley shifted in his seat next to him, and in a burst of irritation, Bastian realized he was blatantly asleep in chapel.

He set his jaw and cast his gaze to the other row of stained glass.

Dibella, goddess of beauty. Her form was pleasing enough, but it held nothing for Bastian’s eyes. He could do little more than admire the artwork - for artists tended to be closer devoted to Dibella than any other Divine, and most would jump at the chance to depict her in their ideal of beauty.

Last year, Bastian had seen an artist depict Dibella in a male form for the first time in his recollection. He finally understood what had Quistley and his friends so enamored with the sculptures, stained glasses, and art pieces. He hadn't been able to tear his eyes away from the perfect musculature- the long hair flowing over defined back muscles - the chiseled features with just a hint of facial hair - the eyes, glimmering with intent behind his courtly Breton facade-

His ears were burning for a different reason, thinking about it.

The Silvelles hadn't cared one way or the other when his preferences were revealed. Bastian thought he even detected a hint of relief in Lady Silvelle’s voice, and thought - though it shamed him to think so meanly - it might be from the lowered likelihood of Bastian fathering children someday. It would mean fewer Hallixes for them to connect themselves with.

Not that he would force them to, if that ever came to pass. He knew his place.

Stendarr, god of justice and mercy. Bastian hadn't connected the cup on his altar to the object held in his hand for an embarrassing number of years. In his defense, the artist who’d rendered it in the Silvelles’ home chapel had either painted it very ill indeed, or it had been later ruined by some splash of ink.

The Redguard training master who’d been brought in to tutor Bastian and Quistley on the art of conflict swore to Stendarr sometimes, when he was mildly displeased. When he was really angry, he would revert to the Redguard pantheon. Bastian rarely heard that directed at him. More often, if he wasn't performing to standards, the wiry old man would heave a great sigh and say, “Young Bastian. One day, you'll either be delivering Stendarr’s justice, or begging his mercy at the other end of the sword. Which will it be today?”

He could almost hear it in the training master’s voice, really. Once Tutor Thierren told him about about Bastian’s aptitude for magic, he'd set to training him with a staff as well as a blade - setting up obstacle courses to get through with a weighted stave in hand, sessions where he'd give Bastian a staff with an iron core and come at him with a sword. It was always better to be on the correct side of Stendarr’s hand, and if his magicka was depleted, he needed to be able to survive and get away.

Bastian flattered himself that Thierren saw more in his future than court etiquette and uncomfortable questions answered by half-truths that made him burn inside. He was nearly seventeen now, almost a man grown. Lord Silvelle had been hinting recently that it might be time for Bastian to look after the family's interests without such a stern hand guiding him, and Bastian relished the thought.

Kynareth, goddess of the wilds and the winds. Bastian had named her as his favorite several times in response to the condescension of noble adults. Lord Silvelle’s comments that Bastian might start beginning to pay the Silvelles back for his excellent education and shelter by looking after their interests in other parts of High Rock were starting to seem more appealing the longer Bastian thought about it. Being blown about by Kynareth’s winds, seeing more of both civilization and the wilds…. It sent a little thrill through him. Being out from under the Silvelle’s roof was scarcely less exciting.

But if he kept daydreaming in that line, he knew he’d grow quite insensible to the speeches of the priest. That wouldn’t do if anyone asked him about it later. Reluctantly, he shifted his gaze.

The stained glass at the front of the chapel was the grandest of all. Akatosh, the One, head of the pantheon. Bastian could appreciate the artistry in the massive stained glass, tracing with his eye how every sliver fit so perfectly into the illusion of glittering dragon scales. Most recently he'd been reading about how Akatosh,, in some manner or another, appeared in almost every pantheon across Tamriel. He'd had an animated discussion with Quistley’s tutor about it, which saved him from the more awkward conversation on why he had been caught doing Quistley’s assignments.

But unlike some of the other stained glasses, Bastian felt nothing in his heart when he looked at the image of Akatosh. After a moment of consideration, the only thing coming up seemed to be a slick, greasy guilt at not feeling anything greater.

The other Divines had expressive human faces to feel things about, he tried to rationalize to himself. And usually, it was older Bretons who took amulets of Akatosh as their personal guide, kept close to the heart. Perhaps one day he'd feel what he ought to for such an important figure. For now, he averted his eyes almost as quickly as he had looked away from Mara.

Next to him, Quistley half-snored. Bastian quickly jabbed an elbow into his ribs to keep him quiet. Quistley shifted and jabbed him back, catching Bastian in the side with not just his elbow, but the sharp, hard bit of statement jewelry on his wrist down and catching Bastian’s hip.

Bastian bit his lip to stop any sound of pain.

The bubble of resentment that burst in his throat was startling in his vehemence. This wasn't fair. If Quistley was caught sleeping in chapel, Bastian would be scolded along with him - chastised for not keeping his foster brother attentive and polite. Even when Quistley got himself into deserved trouble, he always seemed to drag Bastian down with him until they were both flailing, covered in shame, neither looking good.

No. No. He was getting angry. He couldn't. Bastian took a deep breath, exhaled as quietly as he could through parted lips, and then, catching Lord Silvelle’s head begin to turn toward him, tucked his chin and closed his eyes as if in prayer. He stayed that way until he felt his face was under control.

When he lifted his gaze again, it fell on Zenithar. Bastian examined his wizened face, how the artist had used space between the glass pieces to give the impression of lines.

Zenithar, god of fair work and commerce. Maybe one day Quistley would get his just desserts, Bastian thought with sudden savageness, and just as quickly reeled in and tempered those thoughts. No. No, Quistley didn't deserve any such thing, and in any case, he would never be allowed to fail. Anyone with the Silvelle name couldn't be allowed to show proof of family weakness.

So, perhaps, one day he would step up and be the son his parents so wished him to be. That was a much more charitable thought fo fix on, and Bastian set himself on it with the same ferocity which a deer rubbing the velvet off his antlers might set himself on a tree.

Yes. It would be so much better if Quistley would stop grieving his parents. If he would pull his weight, step up to the responsibility of being the Silvelles’ heir. Divines knew there was enough to manage and look after, from what Bastian had been able to find out. There was certainly enough of an opportunity for Quistley to earn the life he seemed to want to live.

He didn't realize until several minutes had passed in this fashion that his hand had slipped into his pocket, seeking and finding the small medallion of Julianos that he wore on a chain connected to his belt whenever he could. His fingers had fallen into the familiar habit of tracing the sharp edges of the triangle, one, two, three, four, and then twice more in that fashion before the count matched up again with the point where he'd started. The counting, the rhythm, soothed him, even enough to ignore that Quistley had slipped back into even breathing and slumber in the pew beside him.

Still tracing the edges of his amulet, his eyes lifted to the stained glass of his own protector, Julianos.

~~|\|~~

Ten years later, in the same chapel, Bastian traced the now-worn edges of the medallion as he glanced over the stained glass windows.

This time, he wasn't in King Emeric’s chapel on the good will of the Silvelles. No; those days were long past, and Bastian was learning to look on their passing with more and more relief.

The windows weren't as grand as he'd remembered them in his childhood memory. He supposed after the better part of a decade spent traveling Tamriel, seeing the wonders of the continent, it was no surprise that fading pieces of art in a Breton king's chapel would carry less mysticism. Still, something in his heart throbbed at the loss. There was just a little less beauty in the world now that he saw the images for just images, and not stand-ins for his belief in the Divines.

And yet….

Still tracing the edges of Julianos’ symbol with the pad of his thumb, Bastian looked to his companion.

Arcturus Crane. Adopted son of noble merchant lord Earl Crane, and adopted in a sense of the word that had made Bastian nearly gasp with alarm the first time he'd heard them talk to each other with frankness bordering on insouciance. Arcturus Crane, who had helped him drag Quistley out of trouble twice without complaint, who was now speaking so casually with the priest of High King Emeric’s chapel in an effort to find out the date and particulars of a certain Clairene Auzin’s marriage.

Bastian kept his focus on Arcturus’ animated hands - he always gestured so much when he talked, a habit stopped only when one hand was curled around the heavy haft of a stave - and tried to keep his breathing steady. His pulse didn't sound steady in his ears. He pressed the tip of his index finger into a worn point of the triangle on his medallion with quickly increasing pressure until he could almost feel an edge.

It might be most natural for his eye to fall on Julianos, abusing the Divine’s symbol in nervousness as he was, but instead he found his gaze on Mara instead. Mara, who had never been a Divine he understood, flowing hair and expression of kindness and warmth.

Unconditional love.

In untangling what, exactly, he felt about things the Silvelles had told him to feel a certain way about - not least of all their own actions - Bastian was starting to think he might have misjudged Mara’s sphere. Unconditional love.

The Silvelles loved Quistley unconditionally, not that he could justify that. He'd spent decades trying. Lord Crane, in contrast, didn’t treat Arcturus like the Silvelles coddled Quistley. He seemed to hold something a great deal like respect for his adopted son. Perhaps not love - he didn't act like there was any sort of paternal feeling there, and Arcturus didn't bother to affect a child's adoration - but there was still…. Something. Something Bastian couldn’t quite put a name to.

And in Arcturus’ own behavior to him. The way he grinned when Bastian got excited over a scrying eye or a new bit of magic, his instant expression of chagrin when his twisting path of shadows caught an innocent mouse and Bastian couldn't bite back his disappointment in time. Bastian had lain awake several nights chastising himself over the outburst, but… now, thinking about it, Arcturus had been rather more careful about how he placed his traps and barriers and magical effects.

Unconditional love was Mara’s sphere. He’d never understood.

Perhaps, Bastian thought, it was less of love, and more of…. trust. A trust baseless enough to be belief, that the other person would do as you expected. And a fondness strong enough to stay steady even if that belief was proved wrong.

His sister. Bastian had no expectations of her, but in the few short weeks he'd known her to be alive… he’d begun to hope. Could she harbor the same feelings for him?

Could she believe in him like he wanted to believe in her?

Bastian released his medallion of Julianos, letting it drop at the end of its short chain back into his pocket as he stood straight. There was no way to find out except by finding out. Arcturus was turning from the priest, and from the look in his bright blue eyes, he didn't come away empty-handed.

The shock of fear that struck Bastian at the thought wasn't a surprise. Rather, he was surprised at how quickly it passed.

Why should I be scared? I won't be alone for this, he told himself, and the thought was quickly chased by, I trust him to stand by me through whatever happens.

Belief. Trust. He still shied away from the word ‘love,’ but….

Perhaps. Perhaps, in time. For now, as Arcturus strolled back to him and flashed a crooked smile (intended to put him at ease, he realized, when normally it was him scrambling to make others easy) and offered a sardonic comment in the way of letting Bastian know they had a lead, the belief in his good will was quite enough to stop the fear from freezing Bastian dead.

He walked out of High King Emeric’s chapel. He held the door for Arcturus, stepped into the bright midday sun, the sounds of Wayrest muted beyond the mage-protected castle wall. He stood there and waited for his eyes to adjust, and hoped - wished - believed, that the end of this road might finally be in sight.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

In Love and Death Part 11

Harry Potter AU 

Link to Part 10 

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M

____

“YOU’RE ACTUALLY GOING?”

Tonks shrieked as you brushed your hair. Turning around, you quickly hushed her. It had been a week since you agreed to go see the healer. Today was the day of your appointment and you were a bundle of nerves. How you hadn’t broken down and told Tonks yet was still a mystery. You had agreed with Regulus to keep things hidden until “something” happened and it was killing you to not tell Tonks. The two of you shared everything. Now here you were almost ready to spill the beans at any moment. Regulus, on the other hand, was calm and reserved as he typically was.

“Yes, and I need you to keep your mouth closed. Regulus didn’t want me to say anything.”

Tonks looked offended.

“Where is the prince charming?”

“Still on a mission with his brother. I am beginning to get worried. He knows that my appointment is today...or at least he is supposed to. I need to leave in like five minutes and of course he isn’t here.”

Tonks glanced down at her watch. She was trying to see Regulus’ point of view in keeping things quiet. The reasonable side understood. He didn’t want to start more turmoil than necessary. The “best friend” side, however, was screaming RUDE!

“I can go with you if you would like. I know that I am not Regulus but I don’t want you really sitting in that clinic alone.”

You shook your head.

“Thanks but I would rather go alone if Regulus doesn’t turn up. It is going to be awkward enough.”

Tonks finally relented.

“True. I have to know what happens. I won’t tell Regulus that I know.”

You smiled as she held out her pinky for a pinky promise.

“Fine. I’ll let you know.”

Half an hour later, you sat in the healer’s exam room on your own. As much as you wanted to be annoyed with Regulus, you couldn’t be. This was part of how things would be with missions and you of all people knew that.

A knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts as a tired-looking old woman stepped in. She looked down at the filed folder in her hands.

“Ms. Rosier, correct?”

You nodded as she sat down and continued to read over the report in her hands.

“So, you are unable to get pregnant and are trying to?”

“True.”

You commented. Deep down you wanted to congratulate her on knowing how to read but your common sense reminded you that this old witch was here to help you.

“It looks like your problems are due to childhood trauma and abuse. Here drink this potion every morning for the next week and a half. It tastes like goblin piss but will work. I have fixed women with a lot of worse issues than what I am seeing with you. Drink your potion then have your husband work his magic.”

You almost snorted at that comment. Damn, you wished Regulus was here to hear that. You could see him blushing over that comment. The prudish side of him would be coming out in full force.

“He will love to hear that.”

You replied as you shoved the potion in your handbag. The witch chuckled.

“I don’t know many men who wouldn’t be thrilled with the prospect of getting laid. Come see me when you think that you’re pregnant and we shall see how things are looking.”

“That’s it?”

You asked, confused. The witch nodded.

“Did you expect me to start poking around down there?”

You shrugged.

“I was expecting more than this.”

The witch chuckled as she stood up. For the first time, the healer seemed to warm up. She reached out and patted your shoulder.

“You kids really are cute. Trust me, Ms. Rosier, this is going to be a lot easier than you expected.”

Stepping back into Grimmauld Place, you were still taking in everything that happened.

“Well?”

You were pulled from your thoughts as you stepped into the kitchen. Regulus sat at the table while Tonks, Remus, and Sirius were standing at the counter. Blinking, you tried to play innocent.

“Well, what?”

You replied. Regulus rolled his eyes as Tonks stepped in.

“Regulus told us where you were going today.”

“Yeah, the healer.”

Sirius came in. You breathed a breath of relief before sitting down at the table.

“I have a potion that she wants me to drink then you and I have some business to do.”

You smirked at the expression on Regulus’ face. He sat quietly waiting to hear some tale of events or get chewed out for missing the appointment but you casually took the tea that Tonks offered you as if nothing had happened.

“That’s it?”

Putting your teacup down you smiled again.

“You know that is the same reaction that I had. I was expecting her to be shoved between my legs looking at my lady bits but she looked over a chart, threw a potion at me, told me to have Regulus work his magic, then bidded me a nice farewell.”

Evan, who you hadn’t even noticed come into the room, froze at the “lady bits comment, spilled his tea, then turned and walked out without another word. Regulus made a mental note to be sure to torment Evan a bit later.

Regulus, himself, was taking in what you just said and blushed as the realization of what the healer said finally hit home.

“Maybe we should leave the two of you alone so you can work some magic.”

Sirius said, bursting into a fit of giggles at the embarrassed expression on your face. Regulus was shaking his head.

“Stay out of it, Sirius.”

Sirius poured a glass of fire whiskey with a smirk on his face.

“No need to be a prude, Reg. We have figured out that the two of you have sex. Some of us have been lucky to see the two of you with your tongues down each other’s throats.”

“Why are you watching, pervert?”

Regulus snapped before focusing his eyes on his older brother.

“At least when we have a child, it won’t have an older brother trying to sell it.”

Sirius didn’t look up as everyone in the room turned to look at him. He innocently looked down at his drink as you frowned.

“What are you talking about, Reggie?”

You asked. Regulus shrugged.

“Ask Sirius. It's his memory.”

Sirius finally looked up.

“I did not, oh wait, yes I did. He was so cute when mum and dad brought him home then he started screaming and taking up all of the attention.”

“I was a baby, you idiot.”

Regulus replied with a haughty frown. Sirius turned his attention back to you.

“So...anyway... I sold him to the old widow next door. Mum had to go get him back then I got the shit slapped out of me. So, Y/n, have you told Evan or Moody about the little plan that you two have cooked up?”

You had started to open the potion and looked up like a child who had their hand caught in the cookie jar.

“Well, no. I figured they could find out when it happens. It will be a lot less painful to deal with Moody after it happens. As far as Evan...he’s a smart boy...he’ll figure it out.”

Regulus’ eyes flickered back to you.

“He has an idea already. He heard you mentioning your lady bits and walked out.”

You stood up and went to the sink. How you missed Evan’s awkward and brief entrance was beyond you.

“One less thing to worry about.”

You downed the potion and automatically winced. Remus, who had been quietly listening from his place by the sink, met your gaze.

“Alright?”

You shook your head.

“Tastes horrible.”

You stood silently for a few minutes wondering if this was how Remus felt when he had to drink his “monthly” potion? If you, you felt sincerely awful for him.

“Well, I don’t feel any different.”

You commented. Tonks grinned up at you.

“It probably takes a bit to take effect. Might as well go work some magic.”

Regulus put down his drink and stood up.

“I’m out of here. Come find me when you need me, Y/n.”

A few hours later you stood helping Molly cook dinner. You had grown closer to the woman since everyone was held up in Grimmauld Place. At first, you thought there were too many people together but it actually wasn’t that bad. Molly had quickly become like the mother that you never had. She had been showing you how to do crafty little things that didn’t involve dark magic. You couldn’t help but smirking at the thought of how your grandmother and mother would be devastated that you didn’t have a Kreacher doing basic chores. Kreacher was enough of a basket case without asking him to do too much.

“Y/n, may I ask a question?”

You nodded as you finished cutting up a chicken. Molly put her knife down before turning.

“I overheard you talking about a certain potion.”

Molly had waited to bring the subject up when Regulus was out of the room in addition to every other man in the house. This was a conversation that she wanted to have without a bunch of “other ears.” Hermione sat at the table finishing up a salad. Molly was fine bringing this up around her.

You, meanwhile, put your own carving knife down.

“Yes, I went to see a healer about my not being able to get pregnant. She gave me a potion to try.”

Molly noticed how Hermione instantly stopped shredding the lettuce and started blinking. The young woman turned in her chair as Molly smiled.

“Are you sure that the two of you are ready for this? It's a big step.”

You were quiet for a moment before speaking. Were you ready...yes and no. You did wonderfully with Teddy but he wasn’t your child. What if you messed this kid up like your parents clearly did with you? Regulus’ childhood wasn’t much better. Two “damaged” people raising a child seemed like a bad idea.

“I know. It's really big but we both want it. I guess I will have to slow down a bit. That was Regulus’ one term and it makes sense. I’ve never liked the idea of being a housewife but maybe it won’t be so bad.”

“You don’t have to stop being an auror just because you are a mother. Tonks does a fine job at it.”

Molly commented.

“Had it been a few weeks ago I would agree with that comment but I was thinking about it...I thought about my childhood and Harry’s childhood...I don’t want my child growing up without parents. Molly, what if I’m a crappy mum? I didn’t have decent parents and neither did Regulus. What if this kid ends up as messed up as we are?”

Molly quickly reached out to cup your cheeks. She knew right away that it was time to go into “mum mode.”

“You will do just fine...both of you will. You’ve done great with Teddy. You also have a lot of support.”

Your worried expression eased up as Molly patted your shoulder.

“You have plenty of time to get ready. It will probably take some time for the potion to start working fully.”

Hermione meanwhile, finished up the salad before politely excusing herself. She had to warn Harry before the inevitable happened and found out in some horrible way.

Harry and Ron sat playing wizard chess when Hermione came into the room. Neither looked up at first. Hermione closed the door before turning back to her friends.

“I need to talk to the two of you.”

Harry’s eyes rolled up immediately noticing Hermione’s worried expression. He had grown used to being wary of that particular expression. When Hermione wore “that” look something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?”

Hermione sat down as both boys turned to face her. This conversation was not going to be easy. It didn’t matter how many times that Ron or Hermione told Harry to let go of whatever crush that he had on you; he hadn’t. Ron could have told Harry over and over that you were an adult now and had no interest in a younger man fifty times and Harry wouldn't care. Neither Ron nor Hermione could decide which crush was more damning…the crush on Cho or the one on yourself.

“Harry, I overheard Y/n and Mrs. Weasley talking. Y/n went to see a healer today.”

Harry frowned. You didn’t seem sick when he ran into you earlier that day. Granted, neither Harry nor yourself had really spoken since the spat over Regulus.

“Is she sick? What did Y/n say?”

Hermione took a breath before beginning to fiddle with the fabric of her jeans.

“Not that kind of healer, Harry. Regulus and Y/n are trying to have a baby.”

Harry’s mouth dropped while Ron looked confused.

“Why would they want to do that?”

Hermione shot Ron a glare.

“Ronald!”

Ron quickly recovered from his mistake and realized what Hermione was saying. He quickly turned to Harry who sat blinking. Harry sat motionless for a moment before jumping up to pace around the room.

“Why am I not surprised? Date someone for a short period then have a baby with them...makes perfect sense. Of course, she wants to make a family with him. Why wouldn’t she? Y/n won’t have to worry about him getting killed by some vindictive dark wizard or worry about…”

Ron quickly came in.

“Harry, I mean, she is a Slytherin like Regulus. Harry, what do you expect mate? Those two feed off of each other. Regulus is as sassy as Y/n, if not worse. Y/n will say something sassy and Regulus has the perfect back up comment. You won’t get far with trying to insult him.”

Harry sat down and took off his glasses to hold the bridge of his nose.

“That isn't what I meant, Ron but thanks for that. I’m going to get some air.”

Harry didn’t wait for Ron or Hermione to respond before storming out of the room. He was halfway down the stairs when he noticed Regulus sitting on the sofa in the small room off of the kitchen.

“I’ve got to be out of my mind.”

Harry muttered before walking in. Regulus didn’t look up from the book that his eyes were glued to. He didn’t even seem to notice Harry or care that the other boy was standing in front of him looking very upset.

“Regulus, I want to talk to you.”

Regulus didn’t lookup. He knew it was Harry without having to look at him.

“Um...okay.”

Harry opened and closed his hands a few times. It was taking all that he had not to lose his temper.

“I don’t think y/n needs a baby, it's too dangerous and you’re too old for her.”

Regulus finally looked up. He raised an eyebrow before smirking.

“Are you her father?”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

“No, he’s sitting in there looking confused.”

Regulus turned to look over his shoulder where Evan sat at the kitchen table muttering to himself... Rolling his eyes, Regulus turned back to Harry. It would be easy to hex the little fool for talking to him but you would also get mad at him. He didn’t feel like dealing with that at the moment. You being pissed at him wouldn’t get you underneath him anytime soon.

“Yeah, there he is. I guess I should only care about what he has to say but I don’t. Your opinion also matters little to me. I get that you’re chosen one but you're not god. Tell you what, I’ll consider your previous comment and put it in a filing cabinet in my brain. When I get the time and the desire to think about it...I will. Now run along and play in the street.”

Regulus went back to the book that he was reading as Harry’s furious expression intensified.

“You’re an ass.”

Regulus chuckled.

“Yeah. I’ve been told that. It's a real character flaw.”

“If Y/n gets injured by being with you...I’ll…”

Regulus looked up again.

“Alright, kid, I want you to listen to me. You care about her. I get it. There isn’t anything wrong with it but she’s my girlfriend and that won’t be changing. I’m sorry that you had all the bad shit in your life happen but, hey, crap storms happen. You don’t want me as your enemy. Now, as I said, run along and play.”

“Play?”

Harry snapped. Regulus nodded.

“Play...or whatever you kids call it nowadays.”

Before Harry could respond, you stepped into the room. You were immediately worried by the furious expression on Harry’s face and Regulus’ cool as a cucumber “this kid isn’t bothering me” demeanor.

“Reggie?”

Regulus looked up at you with a small smile. You weren't sure what you missed but had a feeling that whatever it was Harry was on the losing side.

“Yes, darling?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Regulus stood up without another word. He had a feeling where this “talk” was going and he didn’t mind in the slightest. He glanced over his shoulder at Harry before speaking once more.

“Hey, kid, watch out for cars when you are playing in the street.”

_______

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[seven-oomen]

Daddy’s little soldier trope | The parallel between Dean Winchester and Chris Argent

One of the tropes that became increasingly popular with the shows Supernatural and Teen Wolf is known in fandom as Daddy’s little soldier. This is a trope that usually features a son, who has been emotionally and/or physically abused and/or groomed by a father figure in order to carry out their legacy. However misguided that legacy may be.

The two most well known fictional characters for this trope, as far as I’m aware, are Dean Winchester (Supernatural, air date in 2005) and Chris Argent (Teen Wolf, air date in 2011) and this little piece of meta I will be drawing the parallels between these character and how they’ve grown over the years.

Let’s start with the Supernatural side. For the people that don’t know him, this is Dean Winchester.

When we first meet Dean it’s in the Pilot episode of Supernatural where he is portrayed as a confident, suave, and sassy hunter who drops by on his little brother’s doorstep because their father has gone missing and he needs his help. However, as the season progresses it becomes increasingly clear that Dean is far more complicated than what he appears to be.

Beneath all the confidence and sass lies a young man who’s increasingly taken out of his comfort zone while trying to keep his crumbling family together. Dean is shown as compassionate, insecure, and completely under the influence of his father’s will. Carrying out John Winchester’s wishes and commands even if that doesn’t benefit him and even endangers him. 

There’s also evidence throughout the show of emotional neglect, manipulation, and one could even go as far as to say Dean was brain washed into being Daddy’s little soldier. Following John Winchester’s every command as that who Dean was trained to be from a young age.

The show even draws the comparison that on occasions that Dean didn’t follow John’s command, he passively endangers his little brother and angers his father. (The episode where Sam is almost killed by a Shtriga after Dean leaves the motel room to go to the lobby/arcade.) When Dean returns to the motel room and learns that Sammy was attacked and almost had the life drained out of him, John yells at him and blames him for the attack. Even though Dean, was most likely (judging by the actor), around 8-12 years old.

This was one of the forming incidents for Dean to obey his father’s wishes, no matter the consequences. Because his father convinced him if he didn’t, people, and especially Sam, would get hurt.

Throughout the next few seasons we then see Dean within this role as Daddy’s little soldier, carrying out hunts for his father and uncovering more and more truths about who his father was along the way.  While also trying to keep his family from falling apart and keeping his younger brother as safe as he can. 

Dean is shown as a character that doesn’t seem to care about his own safety and who will sacrifice himself for his father or brother, without any questions asked. By all accounts, he sees himself as the expendable soldier he was raised to be.

It is only after their father has died by the means of a demon deal in Season 2,  and after learning of God and Angels and their heavenly war, that Dean finally starts to question everything he’s been taught. Although he doesn’t fully break away from his programming until later seasons where he truly tries to live life as he’s always wanted. Even though he eventually does return to hunting and the hunters life, he’s far more nuanced in his view regarding the supernatural due to everything he’s learned.

-

Now let’s have a look at Chris Argent, who first appeared in the pilot episode of Teen Wolf; Wolf Moon.

Chris Argent is a human hunter who was born into the Argent family of hunters. When we first meet him he’s depicted as a ruthless hunter who follows the hunter code: “We hunt those, who hunt us.” to the letter. He is shown as a smart, strong, and deadly hunter, who’s intimidation tactics leave a lot to be desired. (I honestly didn’t think one could threateningly wash a car or pick up a dessert, and that remains to be debated, but it was very funny to watch.) 

His devotion to the code is practically drilled into him from a young age by his father (and presumably mother), even if his father himself didn’t really stick to the code and used it more as a guideline.

Chris was raised as a soldier by his father, a fact that he makes abundantly clear on multiple occasions by stating; Our men are raised as soldiers, our women are raised as leaders. As far as Chris is concerned in the early seasons, that is all he is. A soldier raised for war.

Chris in the beginning obeys his father’s every command even if that may endanger him and doesn’t question it. As is evidenced when his father sends him off on an arms deal at the age of 18, without telling Chris that he’s dealing with the Japanese Maffia. This eventually leads to a situation where Chris ends up killing an Oni demon and barely escaping with his life.

After the incident Chris continues hunting and working for his father and eventually marries and has a daughter. Although he chooses not to raise his daughter in the life he was raised in. Effectively breaking the cycle of abuse. (At first, his daughter does end up hunting later in life, an event which eventually causes her death. Although Chris is generally not abusive but protective in the way that he trains Allison.)

His daughter Allison, and his father and sister’s disregard for the hunter’s code when it inconveniences them, is eventually what makes him see reason. And he adopts his daughter's code: “We protect those who cannot protect themselves.” as a result.

There are several instances in the first three seasons where we see the illusion of Chris’s little soldier image breaking. The first is when his wife is bitten and turned, and Chris begs his father to make an exception to the code. His father reminds him that they can’t, but Chris keeps protesting.

It is his wife, who has to step in and remind Chris that he is a soldier and he has to fall back in line. (So to speak.)

The other instances where his resolve and image break are when he finally learns the truth about his sister and father and what crimes they committed according to the hunter’s code. It is this disillusionment and the positive influence of his daughter and her friends that allows him to break free of the daddy’s little soldier ideal.

-

The parallels between these two characters are very clear. Both of them have been raised in a hunters life from a young age, receiving weapons training, learning supernatural lore, being emotionally groomed and manipulated by their fathers, while trying to protect a younger sibling.

Both of these characters also lost most of their family, be it by blood or found family, due to the lifestyle they were raised in. Chris’s wife and daughter are killed by Supernatural creatures, his sister turned into one by another. His sister then in turn kills their father by mauling him to death. Dean’s daughter (who was groomed by her Amazon mother to kill her father), surrogate father, parents, and other extended family like Charlie and Kevin, are also killed by the Supernatural.

Both of them also rose above who they were trained to be for a time, only to return to hunting in the later seasons.

The biggest difference between these two characters, is that one rose above his programming and re-found love and family, even going as far as to protect the supernatural from human threats (Chris), and the other eventually died a tragic death on a hunt started by his father 15 years earlier in the series finale (Dean).

-

I think for many of us the Daddy’s little soldier trope is very appealing. Mostly because it deals with children of neglect or abuse backgrounds breaking free from the influences of their parents and, usually, coming out on top.

Tagging a few people who might find it interesting below the cut.

@mostly-vo1d​ @veronicasummersfelton​ @msmischief101​ @gum-believable​ @fandoms-fiend​

[caithyra]

I’m suuuure he’s shocked /s

GRRM: “Oh woes! I have created a perfect and supporting family for my main characters and I need conflict to make it interesting! What could possibly ruin a good family?”

GRRM: “Ah! A girly girl, of course!” *Creates Sansa.* “And a traitorous bitch at that who would chose to support and protect her child over her birth family who do not rely on her for protection! Surely all shall realize what a bad person she is! It’s not like her own mother would be condemned for abandoning a child that’s not even her own!” *Creates first outline.* “But wait! She shall be prepubescent at the start of the story...” *Starts creating the actual story.* “I shall introduce her through the resentful tomboy’s perspective! And I shall have grown men slobbering over this prepubescent girly girl because we all know that’s ~*historically accurate*~! Oh, people do not like her? I am shocked! Shocked!”

Like, it says a lot about a narrative that when the author wants to create conflict and shake up a healthy family dynamic in a supremely patriarchal world, that he introduces a prepubescent, feminine sister who is unfavored by her father compared to her tomboy sister (even Sansa’s betrothal is a sham even if it would have made her future queen-in-waiting. If everything went as Ned planned, her virtue would have been ruined on the Trident and after he breaks the betrothal with Joff by accusing him of being a bastard, Sansa’s play-acting at love and having been alone with Joff would have ruined her for good, future prospects and the best she would get is either a disinherited second son who no one else wants to marry or a jumped up house who wants some blue blood like the Freys, Baelishes or Westerlings-Spicers that no one important likes.

Arya, by being younger, and more like Lyanna, would have gotten the queenhood and crown prince by Robert’s second wife after Cersei is disposed of, since Robert really wants to marry his child to Ned’s children, so no one better tell me that Ned ever put Sansa ahead of Arya the same he puts Arya ahead of Sansa. He freaking hides behind his prepubescent daughter’s skirts while investigating what he believes are ruthless murderers who had no qualms killing the most powerful men in the realm in a hyper-patriarchy! And it is the other daughter he warns about dangers and gives lessons in fighting! Like what was Ned thinking would happen with Sansa? Did he even care? Did he think he could just sweep it under rugs and forget it? She will need to marry within recent memory of her scandalous conduct since she’ll be twenty in less than a decade! And marriageable age in Westeros is 16! And yet the fandom goes “Poor Ned to have that traitorous bitch for a daughter~” “She should have listened to Ned who never spoke to her and explained himself or the world wouldn’t be ending~” “I don’t hate Sansa but she was sooo stupid for not blindly obeying her loving father who punishes her for her sister’s sins and never explains himself~” is it any wonder my patience with Ned Stark’s parental fuck ups ran out? Congrats, fandom, you made me hate him by excusing his fuck ups and blaming them on his daughter all the time!).

GRRM tries to make it gray, but he knows full well what kind of audience he writes to when he writes the relationships between Cat and Jon, and Arya and Sansa and should have compensated.

Hell, he should have made Joff a good person, prince and promising future king that most girls would like to marry, only to show that’s not what Ned cares about (after all, unless Ned wants Sansa to be abused like half the fandom, he had no idea that Joff was bad when he betrothed them), he cares about birth and truth and “High As Honor” over practical things like “Winter is Coming and Staying for Ten Freezing Years and Does Not Care Who Sits On the Throne So Lets Not Start a Civil War with One of the Most Powerful Families in the Realm, hm?”.

I mean, no one likes Drizzt Do’Urden’s sisters/mother/the matriarchy as a whole, do they? The Dark Elf Trilogy predates ASoIaF by six years, and should have shown a competent writer exactly what the state of womanhood in the Fantasy genre was like. And if you’re going “well, the matriarchy is evil!” I would like to point out that people hate Cattie-brie who is not part of that matriarchy. Yeah. There’s a reason why Menzoberranzan could be written that way and published and become popular, and it was not that Fantasy readers love and support and makes the effort to identify with and understand female characters (nor does most authors, come to think of it... see female friendships in ASoIaF that are without any sexual, incest, or abusive~ Like Arianne and Tyene being as close as sisters in the Later Books Which Are Not Early Installment Weirdness... Oh wait...).

Heck, in the Belgariad, another series predating both of them, things were more subtle but hardly better for female characters; Polgara is a mother figure who gets to have a moment of being imperfect, but to anyone reading the story, it is clear that Garion is the true victim in the circumstances and conspiracies Polgara’s family has woven around him, and that his anger is the immediate reaction of finding out the truth (he just found out how/why he was orphaned and now has the world on his shoulders! And the characters bag on him for not being understanding of the 1000s of years old woman who lied to him and now is sulking. It is blatantly obvious to the readers that it is not the male character in the wrong). The less said about Ce´Nedra (half hyper-sexual dryad, spoiled princess who wants bigger breasts, et cetera) the better. Heck, the less said about the lovable oaf of the hero group committing marital rape on his estranged wife to cure her of being a bitch and turn her loving the better.

The Narnia books predates even that, and Sansa’s direct parallel is Susan, and, yeah... “A silly and vain young woman” with “Plenty of time to mend” sounds very familiar when you hear how people blame Sansa and wants to force her into abusive marriages with repulsive men to mend her.

Not to mention that in Lord of the Rings and related works women are either paragons of virtue, evil, unnamed or are chastised for being ambitious, with a few, notable exceptions allowed to make “wrong” choices, and, well, just see the Elwing discourse in fandom and how her murderers who kidnapped and kept her children (Elrond and Elros, yes, that Elrond for those not familiar with Tolkien’s Legendarium and only watched the movies) as hostages are their ~*real parents*~ after committing a third almost-genocide against her people.

Yeah, no. GRRM doesn’t get to pretend he’s shocked and/or confused by his readers’ reception to Sansa (and Cat). He does not live, read nor write in a vacuum. This shit has been part of Fantasy fandom since long before ASoIaF was an errant idea in his head.