#so when they explain things it sounds like we read two different books

[lukecastellanshandholder]

I still think that the most baffling thing to me about the PJO fandom is that like 98% of them don’t even know about Hal and his story. They don’t know about what the gods did to him. They don’t know what the gods did to the hundreds of demigods that were part of the Titan army, after the battle of Manhattan was over.

Most of the fandom thinks that Luke only considered tearing down Olympus because, "his daddy didn’t pay enough attention to him".

Most of the fandom thinks that all of those other demigods that were in the Titan Army are alive but just living in the mortal world.

Most of the fandom is just forming all of their "hot takes" on the information that we get from Percy, the information that Chiron and the gods carefully feed to him. They’re missing 90% of the information and it really shows.

[bluecrocss]

Yes. You are racist. (Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one)

So approximately half a year since the premier of the Disney+ Percy Jackson show, and almost two years since the announcement of the Trio's casting, I would like to take this moment to look back at the insane, racist and anti-black backlash that was launched at Leah Sava Jeffries and a few other cast members from the PJO fandom.

I'm not concerned with the trolls who are openly racist, who resorted to racist slurs and outright threats, everyone agrees that they "took it too far". I want to talk about the rest of you, the "I'm not racist, but.." people, the "What's wrong with wanting book accuracy?" people. Just to let you know, for the unasked question... yes, yes you are.

I've noticed the Percy Jackson fandom has been lording some weird superiority complex over a certain *unnamed* fandom that has fallen out of grace due to their recently outed bigot of an author. But honestly, y'all are not much different. The amount of vitriol and anti-blackness I have seen from this fandom (beyond just bullying a 12 year old girl), y'all don't have a leg to stand on.

Below is a breakdown of the most common arguments I have seen used to justify y'alls absolutely insane bigotry. I am going to explain why none of these justify the amount of anger and vitriol y'all have sent towards Leah, Rick or any of the cast.

I am not here to argue, and this is not a democracy. I am giving you a chance for some self-reflection and to understand that this pattern of violence directed towards POC actors (mostly black women) has never been justified in the name of "book accuracy"/"comic book accuracy"/"ending forced diversity" or whatever other excuses y'all try to make up.

If you still try to justify or argue further for any of these points, I will just block you. I am not coddling you through your racism. If anyone has seen any other dumb arguments floating around that I might've missed, feel free to sound off in the comments.

She's not book accurate:

Neither is Percy, Luke, Grover, Dionysus, Poseidon, and just about every other named character.

Rick already made it clear that physical features were not the priority with casting, rather it was actors that embodied the role. So why are the biggest complaints about Annabeth and Zeus? 🤔

What? You're gonna say everyone else got backlash too? I see you trying to obscure the main issue by playing dumb 😉

See my friend, yes, there were one or two comments about how Percy's hair should be black or how Luke is supposed to be blonde, but as soon as Leah was cast, none of those actors got any significant backlash. In fact, Walker and Charlie literally have an army of fan girls at their beck and call, calling them the perfect Percy and Luke, despite neither being "Book accurate". But then again, have we not observed the pattern of White boy of the month vs WOC to hate for the year? (Yes, I know Charlie isn't white. Further adds to the irony, doesn't it).

Why include character descriptions if you won't stay true to them, you cry? Well, my dear sweet moron, see, books and TV are two different mediums. Because in literature, you can't *Literally* SEE the characters, the author has to add descriptions to paint a picture in your mind, in TV... that's not an issue. So unless the character's appearance is necessary to the plot (like Luke's scar, or Nico being Italian) the show runners can actually focus on more important things.. Like ACTING and PERSONALITY.

2. It's just not how I imagined her:

News flash, babe! ANNABETH ISN'T REAL. None of these character are. They are concepts that originated from the brain of Mr. Rick Riordan. It doesn't matter how YOU imagined her. There are millions of people who read these books that imagined her several different ways. When the creator of the character watched Leah's audition and said, 'Yes! She embodies the character I created!", your imagined version of Annabeth ceased to matter. And guess what? The books still exist... they have not been burned. Your version of Annabeth has not disappeared. Go read the books.

3. Zeus can't be black/Gods have to be Greek/*Insert Character* can't be black:

Y'all did not read the books, I swear. You have to be fake fans looking to troll atp.

The gods move based off the center of western civilization. They change their forms/environment to reflect the culture they are occupying (they did it with Rome, now they're doing it with America). The gods change forms all the time. How we see them is not their true form as a mortal would disintegrate if they were to see their true form.

America is a cultural melting pot (specifically NY where Mount Olympus is now based). If the god's choose forms that reflect the current society they inhabit, they could literally be any race (keep in mind NYC is only 33% white).

All of this is literally SPELLED OUT in the Lightning Thief.

Furthermore, if you're going to push the ethnically Greek thing... Poseidon is British with a British accent and Hermes is Latino. The only ethnically Greek actor is Dionysus (who still doesn't look book accurate). Y'all are sounding like some white supremacists because do you forget that race is a social construct?

Before the advent of the transatlantic slave trade, I can promise you that the Greeks and the Anglo-Saxons did NOT view themselves as the same people. Why are y'all not taking issue with Poseidon's actor then?

Also, Percy Jackson has canonically had a slew of explicitly black demigods since the second book (including Harriet Tubman, which I have mixed feelings about ���), so I genuinely have no idea where some of y'all are going with this point.

4. She was our smart blonde representation:

Don't pmo. I swear to God!

White, blonde women have NEVER been excluded from Hollywood. Representation is not something you lacked. The dumb blonde stereotype was a simple branch off of a larger misogynistic "dumb woman" stereotype. It has not truly been relevant since the mid 2000s outside of childish jokes.

This iteration of Percy Jackson will probably not go beyond the first 5 books, based off pacing and the age of the actors. So here's a fun game: 5 bucks to the first person who can find me a quote in the first 5 Percy Jackson books, where Annabeth laments her insecurities about being blonde (hint: there aren't any).

Also, her blonde hair does not hold her back at Camp because she is head of the Athena Cabin who are highly respected (and guess what?), ARE ALL BLONDE!

Her insecurities about her hair color are two or three lines at most in the later books, not this fundamental, core part of her character y'all all of a sudden wanna pretend it was. And guess what, as a non-blonde black girl, I was able to read those scenes of Annabeth feeling undervalued because of her looks and relate to her even if she didn't look like me at the time.

Why all of a sudden can y'all not do that with a black Annabeth? By every metric black girls are undervalued for their intelligence in academia more than white girls are, regardless of hair color. So your little representation of a woman undervalued by her looks would still hold. Do y'all dehumanize black women so much, that you are incapable of empathizing with show!Annabeth's plight in the way I could with Book!Annabeth simply because she doesn't look exactly like you?

Your issue isn't that she isn't blonde, it's that she is NOT WHITE.

Furthermore, Becky Riordan had tweeted previously (before the show was even cast) that Annabeth never needed to be blonde (probably recalling the BS y'all put Alexandra Daddario through), so even if they cast a white Annabeth, the blonde hair was never a guarantee. the author and producers all agree that it was not a significant part of her character. It's been a non-issue since day one.

Also, stop acting like smart blondes are rare in media... If you don't go watch some Legally blonde, Iron Man (Pepper Potts), Zack and Cody (Maddie), Liv and Maddie, FMAB (Winry), Captain Marvel, She-Ra, Buffy, The boys (starlight) etc. etc., and go sit down somewhere 🙄🙄🙄 (those were literally all things I've watched recently, off the top of my head, btw 💀)

5. It's not about race, but...:

Yes it is. It was always bout race. No other actors got as much hate as Leah. Her grandmother and other family members on IG had to mute their comments because they were getting so many threats.

Alexandra Daddario had to come to her defense on Twitter. Rick had to put out an official statement on his website. This girl has endured years of psychological torment for simply having the best audition. No one else is book accurate, no one else is ethnically Greek (except Jason Mantzoukas). Walker literally has British and German ancestry.

Why was she being called racial slurs on reddit and in youtube comments?

I know what you're gonna say, "I actually had problems with the entire cast", "I actually had a bigger issue with Walker's hair color", blah blah blah. Then why aren't you in Walker's comment sections? Why are you only making your displeasure known on posts defending/advocating for Leah? Why is she always your first example of 'wrong casting"?

Well, she "looks the most different"... Look up the term "scapegoating".

"Oh, I don't agree with the harassment. I just don't like the casting." Guess what? She's already been cast. They are not going to uncast her. What do you get out of still complaining about it.

All the vitriol you're stirring about her when you complain about her on Social media, it is directing people to send her hate, even if you're not writing it directly. It's is not enough to "not agree" with the racism, it is your duty to actively prevent it. And btw, these are young gen z actors, they are active on social media. They see the edits of themselves (even comment on it) and they most likely see these little "harmless" complaints you're posting. Are your upset feelings really worth contributing to the racist dogpile on this poor girl?

6. Why couldn't they atleast give her blonde braids?:

Why should they? Y'all wanted blonde because of the "dumb blonde" trope... that doesn't apply to POC.

A blonde black girl is gonna be viewed the same as a non-blonde black girl (or at worst, someone might decide she's "ratchet" or some shit for wearing colored hair). What difference would it make?

Why shouldn't Walker dye his hair, then?

7. Annabeth has Gray eyes:

Less than 3% of the global population has "gray eyes". Even if they cast a white actor, they would've needed contacts. Her being black is not the reason Annabeth's eyes aren't gray. Simply put, it is a plot element they removed, like the whole "names have power" element, or Ares having flames for eyes, or Dionysus using his powers to grow strawberries at Camp.

That's how adaptations work. Unnecessary plot elements are cut to save time and budget. This has nothing to do with her casting. They probably also didn't want to make child actors wear contacts (not a new practice).

8. Even if Rick chose her, he was wrong/Disney is forcing him to be okay with it:

Where do I start? Rick created the character. He can't be wrong. Do y'all have no self-awareness? Death of the author has no place here, because y'all are hung up on an aspect of the character that is not relevant to her arc or development.

Y'all's justification for wanting a "book accurate" Annabeth is that she was such an inspirational and important character growing up, and yet your behavior is so in conflict with the character you claim means so much to you. You're narrow minded, dismissive of bigotry and injustice, and disrespectful to the wishes of the creator of your favorite character; everything that Annabeth would never be. Y'all were never genuine fans of the books. You're bigots that needed an outlet for your rage.

Keep in mind, Rick has said countless times that PercaBeth directly mirrors his relationship with his wife. Y'all think he would have allowed them to cast someone who doesn't live up to the woman who has been by his side for decades? The mother of his children?

Regarding Disney forcing him, show me one piece of direct evidence that proves Disney in anyway pressured Rick to cast her. Cuz if you can't, that's baseless speculation. And if you have to resort to baseless speculation, maybe try to examine why it's so important to you to hold on to this belief.

9. So, I'm racist because I hate "race swapping"?:

To start, there is a difference between "race swapping" and "color blind casting". Often times, when y'all complain about the former, you're actually mad about the latter.

It would be "race swapping" if Rick and the team decided ahead of time that they wanted a black Annabeth and ONLY allowed black actors to audition. But the actual reality was that they accepted auditions from everyone (there were white actors and non-black poc that also auditioned for the role) and chose the best person who embodied the role. They didn't "make Annabeth black" and they didn't "make Zeus black", they cast black actors for those roles.

Y'all think you're being slick with your wording. Dismissing that is implying that they did not earn their roles fair and square. Which is racist. It's the equivalent of going up to a black college student and telling them they only got in because of affirmative action. You're dismissing the achievements of a person solely because of their racial background.

For all you people complaining about "unfairness" and "forced diversity", I would think hiring based on merit would appeal to you 🤔

71% of theatrical Hollywood leads were white in 2024 in comparison to 29% POC and you still think "black washing" is a thing? You still get this angry over a black person fairly earning a role because you think in a time where Hollywood only knows to do remakes and adaptations, that the majority of lead roles still *have* to be reserved for white actors?

Once again, white people have never been excluded from Hollywood for being white. Representation has never been something you lacked nor is it something you can lose. Your anger comes from seeing a black face where you think they don't belong. Because you feel you are owed a disproportion of representation in Hollywood.

10. Woke agenda/DEI/Forced Diversity:

If you are unironically using any of these terms in a negative light, it's already too late for me to reason with you. Look up the term "dog whistle". If you are sharing the same terminology with Elon Musk and his fanboys, maybe reevaluate some things.

POC are objectively underrepresented and have been historically excluded through actual laws and policies in Hollywood. There is no such thing as "forced diversity", you have bought in to a right wing conspiracy theory.

"Woke" is a term that was intentionally appropriated from the black community. It originally meant being aware of injustice and systematic threats to the community and is now being weaponized by bigots. Good job.

Diversity and inclusion is a good thing.

11. But POC deserve to have their own stories told:

We do. And we have been fighting for it for over a century now, and we've made great strides, no thanks to y'all.

No thanks to y'all gaslighting us about how little representation we get or that representation matters at all. No thanks to y'all pushing the idea that POC can't sell globally and obscuring POC actors in international promos. No thanks to y'all continuing to whitewash even to this day (Bullet train, the beguiled, gods of Egypt, atla, every portrayal of Jesus ever, etc.). No thanks to y'all calling every piece of media that has more than one black lead and more than one queer couple "woke". No thanks to y'all throwing a fit every time a black person in a fantasy setting isn't a slave.

Fact of the matter is, y'all never cared about POC "getting their own stories", you're only parroting our own words back to us now as a politically correct way of saying, "leave white roles alone" lmao

Well fun fact, actors of color getting opportunities to play lead roles and allowing poc to "tell their own stories" are not mutually exclusive. If y'all cared that much, instead of bullying a 12 year old actress, you could actually support up and coming independent POC writers, directors, and studios 😱

12. Studios need to stop "setting up" actors of color:

Do me a favor and google the term DARVO.

Your racism is not the fault of the studios for giving a POC actor a role that they earned. It is not up to the rest of society to tiptoe around racists to avoid their vitriol. It is our responsibility to hold them accountable and protect minorities from unwarranted hate. At most, you can say it's the responsibility of the studios to provide adequate support to POC actors who face this backlash.

At the end of the day, Hollywood only allows very few spots for POC actors (especially WOC), while simultaneously pushing a new white boy every month to put in everything. Putting minorities in these roles that are usually closed to them, usually opens the door to more actors of color than before.

Brandy being cast as Cinderella did a lot to push her into the mainstream (yes, she was already extremely famous in the black community atp), Halle Berry being the first, black, bond girl literally shot her to icon status, and even going as far back to what Anna Mae Wong did for Asian American actresses with her "femme fatale" roles.

At the end of the day, even with the backlash, *some* rep does more good for POC actors than *no* rep. The solution to racist backlash isn't to take away those opportunities, but rather to not be racist??? 🙄

Also, for everyone that claims that "POC race-swapping" is just as bad as "white-washing", despite white washing having a longer history and objectively causing more harm, note how the backlash to white washing never lasts as long as the harassment that POC get.

Like, no one brings up Scarlett Johansson's ghost in the shell role anymore, but you can best believe Candace Patton is still fending off racist trolls. As much as people hated the atla movie, people moved on quick from Nicola Peltz playing Katara since she was just a kid that accepted the role (re: daddy bought her the role), but y'all would not have any of that consideration for Leah Sava Jeffries.

But I digress...

13. What if we made Tiana white? Wakanda white? Hazel white...:

Ah, my favorite inane point. I was so excited to get here :)

See, I could start out by pointing out how "White washing" and casting a POC actor as a traditionally white character are not equivalent.

I could point out the history of hollywood ACTIVELY excluding POC actors and POC stories. I could point out how grossly over represented white people are in hollywood. I could point out that POC characters are so few in comparison that whitewashing them causes actual harm, where white people have never lacked rep.

I could point out how, because poc characters and stories are so often tokenized that their racial/cultural background is often directly tied to their character's identity, in opposition to a lot of white characters, since hollywood treats white as the "Default".

See, I could make all those points, but the thing is, the people who make this argument already know all that. They are trying to waste time by drawing me into a pointless circular argument that will sum up to "fair is fair", while ignoring all the context and nuance I previously provided.

So you know what? Forget it. Let me play your game.

I am actually fine with a white Tiana. Would it make sense, for her and her family to experience Jim Crow era racism, in the south while white? No. But we can look past it. Disney was never known for historical accuracy anyway 🤷🏿‍♀️

However, in exchange, the live action frozen will have a black Elsa and Anna, live action Rapunzel will be black, live action Merida will be black, we're re-filming Cinderella and Beauty and the beast to cast a black belle and Cindy, snow white will need to be recast as black, and we also get aurora whenever the live action sleeping beauty is announced. But then y'all can keep Tiana, deal?

You want a white T'Challa? Fine! (I'm partial to Ryan gosling), in the meantime, we'll be recasting Iron man, Captain America (Steve version), Bruce banner, Thor, Loki, hawk eye, black widow, ant man, captain marvel, Bucky, Peter Parker etc. All the avengers and their side characters, then y'all can have Sam Wilson, war machine and the whole of Wakanda (will it make sense that a sole, hidden, African nation is randomly made up of white people? Who cares? We get the avengers!).

You want white Hazel? You got her! I hope you have no problem with us taking Percy, Nico, Will, Poseidon, Jason, calypso, Rachel, Tyson, Silena, the stoll brothers, Sally Jackson, Hades, Hepheastus, ares, etc. But y'all can have Hazel and Beckendorf.

If we're gonna do this, let's commit all the way. Fair is fair, after all.

14. Leah isn't as "pretty" as Book Annabeth/Movie Annabeth:

I wish I could say this wasn't a genuine point I had read, but when all else fails, they will always go for a woman's appearance.

Now first of all, as a rule, I will never hold black women to white beauty standards. Our hair will never be long and silky enough, our nose will never be narrow enough, our skin will never be fair enough and our eyes will never be light enough (Might I recommend Toni Morrison, when you get the chance?). But Leah is unfairly gorgeous idc what any of you say, and you're not gonna have me use my defense of Leah as an opportunity to bash Alexandra either because she is also beautiful. These two queens slayed to the best of their abilities within this toxic ass fandom.

I find it funny, however, that so many of you harped on the "blonde" issue because you thought it was important that Annabeth be seen beyond just her looks, but quickly devolve to bashing an actress's looks when it comes to why she's not right for this role 🤔

I would also like to sincerely apologize that the 13 year old girl they cast in the show, wasn't as sexually attractive to you as the 24 year old woman they cast in the movie and sexualized through like 25% of her screen time (I'm actually not sorry. You're very weird if this is an actual point for you).

15. I don't agree with sending hate to the actor, but she's just not right for the role:

Once again, what are you doing by complaining about her casting on no other basis than her race?

The creator of the character said she embodied the role. She has already been cast, and Disney would be in a legal/production hell to recast her atp. Just because you're not directly leaving comments on her social media doesn't mean you're not part of the hate mob.

No matter how you look at it, your issues with her casting come from a very entitled and narrow-minded place. When you join in on these dialogues you are bolstering a sentiment that pushes more people to harass this teenage girl. When you leave these "harmless" complaints, on show content, fan posts or posts defending her, she's liable to read them because the cast regularly interact with fans online.

What do you have to say that is so important that it trumps protecting a young girl from the long-staying trauma of racism, of being told she doesn't deserve something she worked for because of how she was born?

16. I can't even criticize the show without being called racist:

Get. Over. Yourself.

Y'all are not the victim. Have fans of the show gotten protective of Leah and the young cast? Yes.

With good reason. This fandom is unbearably toxic.

Racism outweighs your need for a "perfect adaptation", sorry.

If you explain yourself properly and keep your critiques fair (like, even I don't think this was a perfect season, and will be sharing my thoughts shortly), no one is gonna call you racist.

You're preempting with that because in all honesty, you're probably planning to use your "critiques" of the show to pivot to one of the many points that I just outlined, and you want to pre-empt the criticism.

If a black Annabeth is the end all be all for you, just don't watch the show, no one's holding a gun to your head. Geez.

17. I'm Black/POC and I don't agree...:

Hey, Candace Owens... No one gives a shit.

First of all, for all the "I'm POC and I don't agree" people, you don't speak for us. Anti-blackness is rampant in just about every culture globally. You being not-white doesn't somehow make you less prone to hating black people.

But for the "I'm black and I don't agree" leftovers (assuming you're not just a 👩🏼‍💻 behind a keyboard). Black people are not a monolith. You're not obligated to think a certain way because you're black.

But consider why you're putting yourself up as a barrier to protect this hate mob. It's one thing to just state why you don't like Leah's casting, but to start off your spiel with "I'm actually black" as a way to weaponize the very identity politics you're critiquing... very strange. Not to mention, what are you defending?

The black community is coming together to defend one of our own, a kid who has been receiving death threats since she was 12, and this is when you feel the need to back the opposition?

I mean whatever... sometimes the house slaves would snitch to the master. There will always be some of y'all in the woodwork. It is what it is.

But when the exact ideology you defend is turned against you, when a Baltimore elected official is being accused of getting his job through "DEI", when conservatives are claiming that they wouldn't "trust a black pilot", don't decide that's where you'll finally draw your line in the sand.

All that being said, This is my Annabeth:

May every tongue that rose against Leah Sava Jeffries Shrivel and die in 2025 🙏🏿 My girl will keep winning ❤️

(video by @/waleahhasmyheart on TikTok)

[goldberrg]

surely "bestfriends"

summary : You and Billy have been best friends for a while, but when he comes over unexpectedly.

TW's – cursing, sex (in details)

The end of your pencil tapped against the edge of your desk, the side of your head resting on your hand. Your leg bounced to the same rhythm as your pencil, while you listened to your teacher finish up telling you guys about a project. You were all reading "Pride and Prejudice", or at least had read it, and now needed to do the final project for it. You were aloud to work in groups of up to four, but you knew you'd only be working with one person – your best friend, Billy Hargrove.

Billy's step-mom, Susan, and your own mother were close friends. They worked together, and when you had been invited over for dinner the first week they moved to Hawkins, you and Billy had clicked. The two of you spent most of the night in his room, flipping through his vinyl's and helping him hang up his posters. You couldn't help but mock him about the clichè Playboy posters he had, and all the random crap in his room. But the two of you hit it off, becoming close friends quick.

And now he was your partner for every english assignment, art project, and science project. Those were the three classes you shared together. The first time you tried pairing up with someone other than him, a girl named Cheryl, he didn't speak to you for three whole days. Even when he drove you to and from school, he blared his music so loud your ears rang for hours afterwards.

Only after the project was over, and you showed up at his door with two tickets to see a movie.

Once your teacher had finished giving out her information and instructions, the class dispersed to get with their groups or partners. You leaned your head back, already finding Billy getting up from his seat behind you. He tossed his backpack onto the now-vacant desk beside yours, slamming his body into the chair with a grunt. This was your cue to get up and go get the poster board you would need for the project. You returned with a plain, white board compared to the other varying colors of purple, green, blue and red.

— Get your gross feet off the desk. — you ordered, glaring down at Billy since your hands were preoccupied. Billy rolled his eyes, but complied and removed his feet, the legs of the chair falling back onto the floor.

— Alright, doll, what's the plan? — Billy questioned, reaching into your backpack and pulling out your personal copy of the book. You'd already read the book various times throughout middle school and early high school, so you and Billy switched off borrowing your book.

— I figured I'd paint the board, sort of like a collage. Have different things on it. — you explained, looking down at him from the other side of the desk.

— Sounds good to me. We have two weeks, right? — he asked, quirking an eyebrow up at you.

— Yup, so if you don't finish the book by then, I'll kick your fucking ass. — you hissed, watching as he paused his skimming through the book.

— What?

— There weren't any lions in the book, jerk. You have two days to finish it. You're three fourths done, because that's how much we've read together, so you can finish a hundred pages by Thursday. — you sighed, rolling your eyes.

You walked over and sat in your own chair.

— Yeah, yeah, alright Your Highness. — he grumbled, closing the book and tossing it on top of the poster. — What else? We're doing the whole 'main characters, theme, plot, climax' stuff, right?

— Of course that's the only word you'd remember. — you grinned, shoving his shoulder as he laughed. — The dramatic structure, yes. And all the other stuff. We'll split it up. — you said, putting the book away. — You're coming over after dropping Max off, right? — you asked, standing up.

— Yeah. Most likely around 4:00. — he said, standing up as well when the bell rang and slinging his bag over his shoulder. — Let's go, doll.

Once Billy dropped you off at home, you laid the poster board on your bed and your backpack by your desk. You decided to shower and change into comfy clothes before Billy came over, after all you had about an hour. So you grabbed a pair of skull pajama pants and a big shirt, before heading into the bathroom. You turned the water on high, stripping off your clothes from the day, leaving you in your underwear. Grabbing your moms essential rose oil, you dropped a couple drops into the shower before leaving it slightly unopened on the rack next to the shower. The smell would help relieve the tension of the day, and get you focused for schoolwork. Finally, you took off your bra and underwear, stepping in.

The hot water hit you in the face, and you welcomed it. Scrubbing your face, you made sure to get your mascara and concealer off so that when you got out you wouldn't look horrifying. You let the water travel to your hair, smoothing it down your shoulders. Steam filled up the bathroom, the smell of rose invading your senses.

The roaring of the water was so loud that you didn't hear your front door open or Billy shouting for you name.

Billy pulled up to your driveway, hopping out of his car and heading up to the front door. Max had been dropped off at Mike's, not Dustin's, so it was a lot closer than he thought. He decided not to stop at home afterwards, and just head straight to your place. So he got there around 3:20, rather than 4:00. Not that big of a deal.

Banging on the door, Billy waited a minute or two for you to answer. When you didn't, he tried again, but louder. After the third time, Billy just barged in, rolling his eyes at the fact it was unlocked.

— Hey! Y/N? — he called out, hearing the shower running. Kicking his shoes off by the door, Billy tossed his jacket onto the back of your couch. He didn't hear a response from you, so he headed towards the bathroom. Knocking on the door with his knuckles, he leaned against the frame.

— Come in! — Billy's eyes shot open, looking at the closed door in shock.

As you were putting shampoo into your hair, you heard a knock on the bathroom door. You looked over at it through the glass doors, thinking of who it could be. Your mom wouldn't be home until later, and an intruder wouldn't fucking knock. So you probably lost track of time, and it was Billy.

— Come in. — you called out, not minding if he did or not. The glass walls were textured and opaque so he wouldn't be able to see anything porn-worthy.

And the two of you had paraded around in front of each other with your underwear on before, it wasn't much different. There was a pause before the door creaked open, and the outline of Billy came in.

— Sorry I'm early, doll. — he said, his voice darker than normal. — It didn't take as long to drop Max off. And I figured I'd stop by right after to get a head start on the project, maybe hang out for a while. I didn't realize you'd be naked.

— It's fine. — you laughed, opening the door slightly so you could poke your head out. He was sitting on the sink counter, shirtless. Every other girl in Hawkins was wet for Billy Hargrove, how could they not be? And of course you fell into that category. But you couldn't express it like they could, even though you were closer to him than they were. A few times a week, you'd find your hand sneaking down your underwear, his name leaving your mouth as you writhed against your sheets.

— Don't take too long, alright? — Billy pleaded, when he looked up and saw you looking out of the shower. His cheeks were red, but you passed it off as the hot steam. — Why the hell does it smell like roses in here? There aren't any flowers. — he questioned suddenly, lifting his nose in the air and diverting his eyes away from your wet neck.

— It's my momma's rose oil. I use it to relax. — you said, a 'duh' tone to your voice as you closed the door. — And I'll take however damn long as I please.

— Course you will. — Billy grumbled, and you smirked to yourself. You washed away the shampoo as Billy fired off more questions. — Why do you need rose oil to relax? Doesn't that burning water help?

— Not entirely. It helps my muscles from being hunched over all day, and the steam helps with my nose. But the rose oil adds the extra flare. It's rejuvenating.

— Rejuvenating? The hell's that supposed to mean? — Billy ridiculed, hopping off the counter and moving closer to the door so he could hear you better over the shower.

— It's like... I don't know Billy! — you huffed, opening the door suddenly and popping your head out. You were startled when you came face-to-face with him, noticing the way his eyes darted down to your nearly exposed chest and back up. — It helps with headaches, my skin if I apply it directly onto it, and the smell is just nice. Don't you think? It's just fucking relaxing. Unlike you right now. It's amplified in the shower, so I apologize if you're not getting the full treatment. — you snapped, getting frustrated. Having Billy so close in an intimate setting was rough, especially when you couldn't touch. It was like a goddamn museum, you can look, drool and adore. But if you touch, you're getting arrested.

— I'm getting the full treatment just fine, baby. — Billy snickered, leaning closer to you as his eyes dragged up and down your hidden form. Your face heated up, and you shot your hand out, shoving his face back.

— Pff, yeah right, Hargrove. — you scoffed, closing the door and diving under the water. Your breathing was heavy and you tried to mellow it out by focusing on your conditioner.

— You still with that Caden guy? — Billy suddenly asked, his voice now on the other side of the doors, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

— No, I broke it off two weeks ago. Remember? He couldn't decide if he wanted me or Jenny more, even though he was fucking her the whole time.?— you laughed dryly, running the conditioner through your hair as you shook your head at the memory.

— Good. — Billy muttered, but you still caught it. — You could do so much better than him.

— Yeah? — you laughed, shaking your hair to even out the conditioner. — Like who, you?

— Exactly like me. — you stopped, and turned to the end of the doors. There was an audible zipping sound, causing your heart to speed up.

— That so? And what makes you think that, Billy? — you called out, biting your lip and turning to face the water again, washing out the conditioner, in hopes of calming yourself. Your heart hammered against your chest when you heard the shower doors open, as if it was about to leap out of your throat. You didn't turn around however, opting to close your eyes as the water hit your face.

— Cause. — he replied simply, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

Your eyes shot open as rough hands gripped at your hips, spinning you around. Your arms collided with Billy's chest, your head tilting up to look at him. His blond hair was beginning to stick to his face, and his blue eyes stuck out more than ever against the tiles. You weren't given anymore time to admire him, because his lips were on yours instantly. Both of you were swallowing water, your lips pushing against each other desperately. Billy walked the two of you backwards carefully, making sure you didn't slip, until your back hit the wall. You were now out of the harsh spray of the water, and you broke away to gasp for clear air.

— Are you.. — you attempted to ask, not wanting him to regret this, and have the friendship ruined.

— Yes, yes I'm sure, Y/N. — Billy said, not giving you the chance to finish. His hand reached up, pushing your wet, dark hair out of your face before leaning back down to capture you in another demanding kiss. Your fingers tangled in his damp curls, tugging slightly when his hands gripped your waist tightly.

Billy moved his hands under your thighs and crouched, indicating you to jump, and you did. Your legs tightened around his waist for dear life, knowing that if either of you gave out it'd end in a naked hospital trip.

— Fuck. — you moaned out, breaking the kiss as his cock rubbed against your pussy, tilting your head back. Billy ducked his head, attaching his mouth to the center of your throat, biting the thin flesh before sucking it. You whimpered, moving your body up and down the slick wall slightly, giving the both of you more friction. His nails dug into your ass, pinning you to the wall so you couldn't move.

— Don't do that, princess. — he warned lowly, vibrating against your throat. You could feel the occasional pulse of his cock against you, and you wanted nothing more than for it to be in you. Whether it was your mouth or pussy, you didn't care. You just wanted it.

— Billy, please. — you whined, after having waited patiently for him to finishing sucking on your neck.

— What do you want, baby. — he growled, pulling back to look up at you. You didn't answer him, instead you held onto his shoulders tightly so you could unwrap your legs without death. Once your feet were safely on the ground, you flipped the two of you, so his back was against the wall and your back was facing the water. Giving him a smirk, you kissed the corner of his mouth before getting on your knees. Billy's tongue darted out, licking along his lips while looking down at you, his hand running through your wet hair. Grabbing his dick in your hand, you pulled at it a few times, twisting your hand along the base. Leaning down, you gave the tip a few kitten licks, gathering the pre-cum onto your tongue. Looking up at Billy, you waited until his eyes fluttered closed before taking the beginning of his dick into your mouth.

— Ugh, Y/N. — Billy grunted, his hold on your hair tightening. You smiled internally, licking the underside of his cock, and then left to right in order to ease your mouth farther down. It took a few minutes, but soon enough the tip had gone past your tonsils. Your eyes were watering, and saliva was dribbling out of the edges of your mouth. Billy's hips bucked against your mouth, his tight grip on your hair giving you a steady rhythm. Continuous moans streamed out of his mouth, and eventually you were roughly pulled off of his dick.

— Not yet, baby. — he said, more so to himself than you. You understood what he meant, and grinned in satisfaction. Putting his finger under your chin, Billy guided you to stand up. Holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Billy pulled you in for a slower, more passionate kiss. Your hands rested on his chest, relishing in the warmth of the water and his body. His free hand traveled down the small of your back, tickling you as he went, before gropping your ass.

— Billy.. — you gasped, your voice breathless. You grinded yourself against him again, growing impatient. You looked into his eyes, chewing on your bottom lip to keep in your needy whines. Billy simply smirked down at you, fully aware of what it was you wanted – no, needed.

— Hmm? — he hummed, a wicked grin on his face. You let out an impatient huff, ducking your head to harshly bite at his shoulder. Billy hissed out, the hold on your ass tightening before it released. You thought he was just gonna move you two, but instead he brought his hand down in a harsh slap.

— Ah, Fuck. — you cried out in shock, arching your back.

— Don't bite. — he warned, and then he finally pushed your body against the wall on the side, the cool tile instantly calming down your burning ass cheek.

— Then fuck me already, you jerk. — you snapped, running your thumb over the bite mark on his shoulder. Billy's eyebrow rose at your bold statement, and you simply grinned up at him. His fingers ran down your stomach, tracing at your curves and marks of imperfections. He kept eye contact with you as his middle and ring finger dipped between your folds, slowly dragging from your entrance to your clit. Your body jumped at finally being touched, a sigh leaving your mouth. His thumb rolled around your nub, your hips jerking occasionally, while his middle finger worked it's way inside you. A small grunt sounded in your throat, and you held onto Billy's shoulder, leaning your head against the wall. Once his middle finger was in to the knuckle, he pushed in his ring finger and began pumping them in and out of you, curling them.

— Ugh. — you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulder. Billy started kissing his way around your jaw, neck and chest, occasionally licking your nipple for fun. He added his forefinger after a minute, another moan escaping. You bit your lip, hard, holding in another whimper.

— Why are you being so quiet, princess? It's just us. — he mused, biting at your earlobe.

— I don't wanna boost your ego. — you snickered, yelping when his thumb pressed down on your clit and his fingers dug inside you even more.

— Yeah, well. — he laughed, shaking his head. — You can't hide the sounds you're making down here. — he snickered, slowly pulling his three fingers out of you and bringing them to his mouth. His tongue moved between his fingers, licking your juices and the shower water off of them. You watched, mesmerized.

Once his fingers were cleaned to his liking, he gripped the back of your thighs, having you jump up again. He gave you a nod, questioning if you were ready or not. You nodded yours quickly, having been ready for this for months. Aligning his cock with your entrance, Billy didn't have the ability to ease himself in because of your guys positions. So with one quick thrust, he was inside you, his hand splayed out against the wall and the other gripping your ass.

— Fuck. — you screamed, throwing your head back, crying out when it hit the wall. Billy was big, bigger than his three fingers. Your arms pulled him closer, trying to even out your breathing and relax your muscles around him. Billy didn't move, small moans being breathed into the crook of your neck.

— I'm sorry, doll. — he whispered, knowing it hurt. You didn't have lube or a condom, and not much preparation.

— No, no, don't apologize. — you said quickly, squeezing yourself around him to emphasize. — It's fine. You can.. you can start.

Billy removed his head to look at you, but when you gave him a nod he started moving. He thrusted slowly, not wanting to lose his grip on you or push your body. Both of you were breathing heavily, and you moved your body along his, matching his thrusts with your own.

— God. — he moaned, pulling his cock farther out before slamming back in, continuing the movement over and over again. Your nails scratched their way over his shoulder blades, biceps, back and anywhere they could reach. The pain was decreasing as the thrusting went on, and when Billy moved you slightly to the left, slamming back in, your eyes shot open.

— Holy fuck, right there, Billy! — you shouted out, arching yourself into him.

Billy smirked up at you, licking his bottom lip and doing as you said. He quickened his pace, no longer hearing your hisses of pain, and thrusted into you quickly. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, as well as the sound of your back hitting the wall, echoed throughout the bathroom, overpowering the shower.

— Ugh, god. — Billy grunted, throwing his head back. — I can't hold out much longer, Y/N. — he moaned, looking down at you just as you opened your eyes to look at him.

— I'm close too. — you whimpered, hiking yourself higher up on the wall, screaming out when his cock hit the spot again, but deeper. — Fuck, fuck, fuck. — you moaned, a streamline of curse words leaving your mouth. — Billy, I'm.. — you tried to warn him, but a high pitched moan escaped before you could finish as the heat in the bottom of your stomach exploded. A wave of warmth washed over you, your toes curling and your thighs squeezing around Billy, pulling him closer. You mouth fell open, letting out a small, quiet gasp as you orgasmed.

Billy pulled out quickly, feeling his own orgasm wash over him, and his hot cum sprayed over your stomach and the tops of your thighs. Your head fell to his shoulder limply, your body slipping down the shower wall, as it shook from your orgasm. You could see your thighs wiggling, and Billy gently lowered you to the floor. When the cold shower water hit you, you welcomed it, letting the cum wash off of you.

— Hey. — Billy whispered, his arms wrapping around you from behind. — This isn't a one time thing. I want you to be mine.

— Good. — you grinned, a giddy feeling coming over you, more intense than your orgasm. You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. — Let's go take a nap, that project can wait until later.

[sansaorgana]

👀 Gale showing his wife just how much he missed her overseas?

hello, love! 😌 I've already written a smutty fic like that here so this time I went with a scenario of Buck coming back home and the emotional aspect of this situation since they haven't seen each other in almost two years 😳😭🥺

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

When Buck was leaving his wife to go to Europe, he was planning to come back to her quickly after finishing his twenty five missions as fast as possible. Or he would die, which was also a possibility. But he certainly wasn’t planning to get shot down and end up in a German camp for the rest of the war.

Every day, week, month he spent there was filled with one thought only – lost time. All the time he was losing on surviving at all costs instead of living his life at home with his wife who was bravely and patiently waiting.

“Do you think they're still waiting for us? Our girls?” DeMarco asked one evening when they were playing cards and killing time.

“You’re asking as if you were so faithful yourself,” Bucky teased him. “Plenty of men back home hunting for the military wives.”

Buck shot him an angry glance for a second. He had been faithful to his wife. And he was sure she had been faithful to him, too. He wanted to be.

“Don’t look at me like that, Buck,” his friend pushed him playfully. “You guys have seen his wife?” He asked the others and they nodded in response. They all had seen a picture of Mrs. Cleven because Buck always kept it with him and occasionally stared at it with soppy puppy eyes. “What I’m saying is that I’m sure there are lots of men ‘round town who chase her,” Bucky explained.

“Thank you for clarifying,” Gale gritted his teeth.

“And she’s only a woman after all, we’re all humans with needs,” DeMarco joined the teasing. 

Buck stood up as the men looked up at him, confused.

“Come on, we are teasing,” Bucky grinned at him.

“I will not participate in this,” his friend sat on his bed instead and opened a book to read.

It was none of his business how his friends treated their wives and relationships but he was serious about his and he respected his wife more than anything. However, their jokes and teasing had planted a seed of insecurity in his mind. 

When she held him for the first time after his return, it felt surreal. Her hands were so soft when they cupped his face, yet they squeezed him so tight that he felt like she would crush his organs. Gale couldn’t stop looking at her face, her sparkling eyes, her smile, every tiny wrinkle on her face, every little detail that he had forgotten already; that the black-and-white picture failed to capture.

He was back home but he felt like he was put in a glass jar. People’s voices sounded as if they were coming from another room. His wife’s hand squeezed his and it was the only thing grounding him. Even his own house felt odd and strange – he had remembered it differently. Now it was decorated with Welcome Home signs and filled with the neighbours patting his back and asking him millions of questions per minute.

So when they all left and he closed the door behind the last couple living down the street, Buck sighed with relief and turned around to face reality. The house was dark at this hour but there were dim lights turned on in every room on the ground floor. His wife was taking care of the dishes in the kitchen and he looked at his face in the mirror by the front door.

There were scars scattered all over his cheeks and he looked exhausted. But other than that, he was a lucky bastard who had gotten home safe and sound. Even if it had taken him much longer than expected.

Gale fixed his hair in the mirror and entered the kitchen, awkwardly leaning on the doorframe. It was his home but it didn’t feel like his space anymore. It was hers now – his wife’s. She was humming a song and washing the plates and cups with an apron put loosely over her cocktail dress.

“Where did you get a dress like that?” He asked softly and she turned around with a smile.

“Oh! You startled me for a second,” she gasped. “I’m not used to having someone creeping up on me like that,” she admitted and Buck approached her to start drying the freshly washed dishes with a cloth. He wanted to help in any way. “I bought it last week. Been saving money for something special for your return and since it took you so long to come back to me…” she chuckled nervously, “I saved quite a lot.”

“I’m sorry,” Buck blushed at her joke.

“No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was them Krauts who didn’t want to let you go, am I right?” She pushed his shoulder with hers and went back to washing the remaining cups. “If I was them, I wouldn’t want to let you go either,” she added.

She always tried to joke about almost anything, to turn everything into a situation worth laughing or at least smiling about. It was one of the things Buck adored her for.

They finished washing and drying the dishes and she took her apron off with a sigh.

“I’ll finish cleaning tomorrow,” she told him.

“I will do it. Tomorrow,” Buck told her and she smiled faintly at him.

“Come, sit on the porch with me,” she held his hand as if he was made of glass and led him outside. There was a wooden bench on the porch and a small light turned on, flowers in the pots and an ashtray.

“You smoke now?” Buck raised an eyebrow at his wife as he sat down.

“No, only sometimes. You see, I had women coming here in the evenings,” she explained and sat down next to him, “and we would sit here for hours just like that. And talk,” she added and laid her head on his shoulder.

He nearly flinched at that gesture. It was such a long time that he wasn’t used to affection anymore. Yet he craved more of it.

“I’m glad you weren’t lonely,” he whispered and put his arm around her.

“Oh, but I was… So awfully lonely,” she looked up at him and he looked down to meet her gaze. Her eyes filled with tears.

“My friends were teasing me that…” Buck swallowed thickly, “...that a woman like you… Well, that she’d be chased ‘round town by all the men here.”

He felt stupid admitting that and he knew that this sort of accusation would hurt her. But she didn’t look angry nor sad. She only chuckled.

“No men left, no,” she shook her head. “All the best ones were away or dead,” she hugged his chest and he sighed with relief. “And what about you, Major Cleven? Am I supposed to believe you’ve been faithful?”

“Not many women in a camp for the captive pilots, you know?” Buck rubbed her back.

“But I mean before that,” her finger played with one of the buttons of his shirt.

“You can ask Bucky if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you,” she laughed. “You know, my friends teased me, too. They were saying there ain’t no way my man’s no cheater. But I knew you would never do that. I said, my Buck would rather die than look at another woman. And they all thought I was crazy,” she told him.

“You aren’t crazy,” Buck shook his head and leaned in to kiss the top of her head. “And you smell so nice. Is that a new perfume?”

“I didn’t use perfume,” she answered.

“Then it’s just you. You smell so nice,” he hummed to himself and buried his face in her hair.

She curled herself up in his arms and bit on her lip before asking in a shaky voice:

“Do you still love me?”

Gale’s heart skipped a beat as he looked down and raised her chin to make her look up.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you still love me?” She repeated the question and he took a deep breath in but she didn’t let him answer. “I know you think you do. And you had my picture but I am not that picture, Buck. I know you loved the picture and your little scenarios you were creating inside your head to keep yourself alive and I am not angry at you, not at all. But now when you’re back and when you see me, do you still love me or are you disappointed? Perhaps some part of you wishes I was that picture instead?” Her lower lip trembled as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I don’t know what to say, darling,” he admitted and wiped her cheeks with his thumbs. “But I can show you. Come,” he stood up gently and raised her up with him to lead her back inside and pick her up bridal style to carry her upstairs to their bedroom. Her bedroom. He hadn’t slept there for almost two years.

Buck switched the light on and laid his wife on the bed gently as she kicked her shoes off of her feet. He hovered over her on bed and joined their lips together in a sweet and gentle kiss as his fingertips caressed her jaw and neck.

“I missed you,” he whispered after breaking the kiss and looking deep into her eyes. “I missed the real you. That picture was never enough,” he assured her and she smiled at him before throwing her hands around his neck to pull him down for another kiss. Hers was more eager, though; it was hungry and sloppy and it encouraged him to roam his hands more freely all around her body.

“I’m scared,” she breathed out. “I’m scared that I’ve grown too used to being alone.”

“You’ll grow used to having me around again the same way. I’m not letting you go, sweetheart,” he bopped on her nose and she rolled her eyes with a chuckle.

“Buck Cleven, my hero,” her delicate hands cupped his cheeks and caressed the scars with her fingertips.

“I’m no hero,” he protested.

“To me you are,” she insisted and furrowed her brows. “You had to be in so much pain and I wish I could take at least some of it.”

“I would never want you to,” Buck kissed her wrist softly. “It would spoil all your sweetness.”

“Oh, it’s already spoiled. You haven’t seen me at my worst,” she confessed and he looked at her face, worryingly. “When I was going crazy without you here all alone. You’d send me to asylum if you saw.”

“I would not,” he assured her, seriously. “You haven’t seen me at my worst either. I don’t think you would like me like that,” he swallowed thickly as the horrific memories flashed in front of his eyes. “The things I did to come back to you…”

“Shh, I don’t have to know,” she pulled his face down and placed soft kisses upon his cheeks, nose and chin. “Unless you want to share it with me one day. But you don’t have to tell me anything, Buck.”

“I’m just so happy to be home,” he whispered almost inaudibly, their faces so close that their lips were touching.

“And I’m happy to have you back, baby,” she smiled and fixed his hair.

“Every breath was for you, every step, every bomb I dropped, every bullet I avoided, every day and every night. Just to come back to you,” he kept looking deep into her eyes. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“Major Cleven,” she shook her head and rubbed her nose with his, “your wife would wait a million years for you, don’t you know…?”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[the-joy-of-knowledge]

Bloom's Taxonomy: A 6 step guide to improve your learning

I am so excited to be back!!! I hope you all enjoy this because it has been helpful in my self-development journey.

Remember: When reading a paragraph, a chapter or even a book. It is important to know why you are reading it and if you were assigned this reading, you need to know what is expected of you. With his in mind, endeavor to read, retain and recall the information. This looks like take a pauses to recall what you have learned. You will not remember exactly what you read but you will notice some gaps, so back to you reading and figure what the missing parts.

Understand: Try to make meaning of what you have remembered. Explain it to yourself, write it in simpler terms, ask yourself questions on this. if you memorized the definition of photosynthesis as "the process by which plants and certain bacteria use sunlight, water, and carbon dioxide to create oxygen and sugar (glucose). Try to describe this definition to a sibling or someone who has no idea what it means. if possible watch a video that visually describes the process. Understanding goes beyond regurgitating. Because you can only begin to apply what you have learned only when you understand. It is also at this point that you will encounter difficulties especially if the subject is dense and complicated. Use the resources at your disposal and ask questions.

Apply: Use what you know already about the subject in this new context. Back to my photosynthesis example, what do you already know already and pose that as a question. Does photosynthesis have anything to do with the color of leaves? If it needs sunshine, then what happens when there is barely any sun? Let's try this for a subject as esoteric as physics. "Electromagnetism is the physical interaction among electric charges, magnetic moments, and electromagnetic fields." I do not know enough about electromagnetism but I know that Tesla is an electric car. Wouldn't it be fun to quickly google whether electromagnetism is applied to Tesla's engineering? This step is crucial because you are using a familiar object in an unfamiliar territory. (This is very simplified and studying physics isn't as easy as I portray it. This is only a guide )

Analyze: When analyzing, you want to explore the similarities and differences you have noticed in your readings. How do two seemingly different authors give a unique perspective to the subject you are reading? Can you categorize which information is relevant or not? Can you organize your thoughts and ideas into relevance parts, assuming you'd have to one day share what you have learned? When contradictions can you spot? What outliers exist in some the data you have analyzed, and can you come up with some hypothetical answers?

Evaluate: This is the time to look at two differing sources to support your argument. It is also the time to build the skill of critically reading a book or an article to figure out the author's main idea and evaluate their supporting arguments. Now, this sounds very academic but you can do this even when you are reading a novel and you want to get a grasp of life in that time period. Pay attention to the events, this will give you an idea of the cultural and political climate of that time period. You further may your own judgement. For instance "I think character A in book X was married off as a 14 year old because mother's were accustomed to get the their daughter ready for marriage once the hit puberty in X country."

Create: This is the right time to use all you have learned to create something new. Perhaps a personal philosophy? An article explaining why you think ketchup is the best invention of the 19th century? By creating, you also go through the process of self evaluation. You ask yourself "did I really learn enough?" Often times we get stuck trying to find the perfect thing to say, the right topic to discuss, the right response to give your professor, or the right book to right. Often times, the right creation is anything that you found interesting. it is you ability to frame that interest of yours that sets you apart and inevitably brings you both success and critiques. Keep creating in your own way.

Enjoy!!!

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

since it's pride month, i want to highlight my favorite underrated/underappreciated queer characters and ships! (part 1/???)

(feel free to add more!)

Lake - Infinity Train (non-canon)

it's not canon but you cannot tell me that Lake isn't an allegory for trans/nb people. her arc is so beautiful and her character resonates with me so much!

i have to admit, i actually kinda hated her in the beginning because of how aggressive and rude she was, but she actually gets good character development and you can also understand why she was the way she was, being a good representation of a minority who is constantly suffering because of the social norms she’s forced into. also i don’t ship her with jesse but i do like the idea of them in a qpr or just being platonic besties.

(i use she/her pronouns for Lake because that's what they use in the series, but also because not all non-binary people use they/them, and it's kinda weird to see people insist on using they/them for Lake just because she's nb-coded. she has never shown an aversion to bring referred to with she/her pronouns.)

Le Chevre x El Topo - Carmen Sandiego (canon)

they are side characters who don't play a huge role in the narrative but they are a really cute couple and have been confirmed to be canon! even without the confirmation, it’s clear that they were written to be a romantic couple.

mild spoiler: after the series ends, they stop being antagonists and instead put up a food truck together! it’s the cutest thing, i swear

Ryan x Min-gi - Infinity Train (non-canon)

my OTP through and through! i say non-canon but the romance is so heavily implied, you cannot ignore it.

they're a good example of childhood friends who had a complicated relationship where both individuals did something wrong, but in the end, they grow as people and manage to mend their relationship together.

Moomin x Snufkin - Moominvalley (canon)

i have only read one of the books and watched a few clips of these two characters but from that alone, it's clear that they were written as lovers (and the author is queer too!)

they are a beautiful portrayal of long-distance relationship where both individuals have different needs in life, but still want to be with each other regardless.

Terrestrius / Terry - The Dragon Prince (canon)

Terry is canonically transmasc and they actually manage to explain this in the series, without making it sound too forced or expository. he's such a sweetheart too, and his relationship with Claudia is actually really sweet, despite the fact that she's one of the villains.

Carmen x Julia - Carmen Sandiego (non-canon)

again, i say non-canon but it is heavily implied that they have feelings for each other, especially in the extra interactive episode, where Carmen leaves a bouquet of red roses for Julia, and Julia is shown to blush when receiving them.

Amaya x Janai - The Dragon Prince (canon)

what’s that? it’s actually possible to write an enemies to lovers romance that is healthy and not extremely abusive?

Amaya and Janai have such a good relationship in S5 (and Amaya is also a great disabled representation!) Janai actually learns sign language to communicate with Amaya, and there are no unnecessary miscommunication plots or drama, they’re just a really loving wlw couple.

Benson x Troy - Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts (canon)

when i say we need more mlm ships in animated media!! i’m so glad us sapphics are getting a lot of representation but it’s time cartoons started including more queer men.

benson and troy are just a really sweet couple with a good relationship that doesn’t have a ton of pining or unnecessary angst. while i love complex and tragic queer relationships, i also think that it’s good to show teenagers just being teenagers sometimes.

this opinion seems to be scarce in the queer community, which really annoys me tbh.

Raine x Eda - The Owl House (canon)

i cannot believe that given the popularity of TOH, Raeda is still such an overlooked ship. this might be an unpopular opinion but Raeda is better written and has more chemistry than Lumity and Huntlow.

just within the span of Raine's introductory episode, they managed to establish a clearly romantic past between these two characters, and also an interesting dynamic. and even though they didn't have much screentime, they still turned out to be the best ship in the series. (again, just my opinion, don't come at me)

i think it's so important to show older queer people in media, just as it is important to show younger queer characters. it helps establish the fact that queerness has always existed and isn't some newfound trend that social media invented. not to mention, raeda is one of the very few canon ships that include a non-binary character.

[brownsugaboba]

title: “Chapter 2: Back in The Day: Simpler Times.”

december 19th, 2024.

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bruce wayne x reader.

black reader. (anyone can read but emphasis on black.)

19+. (this chapter is NOT 19+, however future chapters will be.)

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the wayne manor library was quiet, except for the soft ticking of an antique clock on the wall. the stretch of leather-bound book casted long shadows across the room, but neither bruce nor yourself paid much mind to the dark night. you both, after all, had spent countless hours there as children, so the familiar surroundings felt comforting, nostalgic even.

bruce sat in his usual armchair, a glass of scotch resting on the side table beside him, while you were sat on the edge of the window seat. your posture was relaxed, though your eyes held the same quiet look they always had. you two had been talking for hours, reliving memories from a time when the world seemed simpler, before tragedy reshaped both of your lives.

"remember the time we tried to build that treehouse in the oak behind the manor?" you asked, a small smile tugging at your two tones lips as you recalled the memory.

"we thought we could build it all by ourselves, even though we barely knew the difference between a hammer and a nail."

bruce couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound rare and warm. "i think we still managed to get it up, though. it was only after a week when alfred found it that we realized we had left half of it unfinished."

"that’s because you kept insisting we needed more space for all our 'secret' things," she teased. "i think you were just trying to escape your parents."

bruce’s smile faltered for a brief moment, but it didn’t go unnoticed. you saw it and immediately reached out to place a hand on his.

the unspoken bond you had shared since childhood had always been something that transcended words, even now. you both had known loss too young, your parents taken from you in different ways but with the same devastating finality.

"i never thanked you enough for being there for me back then," bruce said quietly. "for always knowing when i needed someone."

your voice was equally as soft. "you don’t have to thank me, bruce. you were my best friend, too. we were always there for each other."

you two went into a slight silence, the weight of unspoken grief settling between you both. the passing of your parents was still something neither one of you had truly come to terms with, but it had shaped you both in ways you couldn’t fully explain.

"i miss them," bruce said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

"i miss him." the words for his father, thomas wayne, hung in the air.

"i miss her too," you said. "my dad... he was always so proud of you, bruce. he admired you, even when you were just a little kid who'd sneak into the hospital to watch him work."

bruce’s lips twisted into a faint yet gentle grin, but the sadness was still there. "he never knew when to stop talking about his work. your father… he used to give me tips on how to stay focused during surgeries, even though i wasn’t sure if I’d ever need them."

"and you did. in your own way," you replied. you squeezed his hand before letting go.

"you turned out more like him than you think."

bruce met your gaze, his eyes betraying a sense of emotion he rarely showed. he stopped himself from reaching for your hand again, wanting to hold it for comfort.

"and you turned out like your dad in the best ways. i’m sorry we both had to go through that loss together."

"i think we’re both sorry for that," she said softly.

the conversation shifted after a moment, the past lingering like a shadow, but they had moved on. the reason you were there became clearer. you were still family, and today was no exception.

"selina’s wedding," bruce said, finally having the courage to say it. "that is why you came all this way, no?"

you sighed, crossing your arms. "i’m not here for the wedding itself, bruce. i’m here because i know how much it’s going to hurt you to see her walking down that aisle."

bruce closed his eyes for a moment, the pain evident. "she deserves happiness. i knew that the moment she let me go. but it doesn’t make it any easier."

you nodded. "i know. but you’ve always been too good at hiding how much things affect you. and you can’t hide that from me when i do the same thing. it’s not healthy."

before bruce could respond, a quiet voice interrupted him from the hallway.

"do you think it’s gonna bother selina seeing bruce with someone else?" damian’s voice was low but sharp, his curiosity peeking around the corner of the library door.

he was followed by his brother, dick, who smirked. "i mean, we all know she’s been a little—" he hesitated, glancing at damian. "possessive?"

damian gave him a pointed look.

"i was going to say 'protective,' but sure, go ahead." tim remarks.

bruce’s eyes narrowed at the sound of his children’s voices. his instincts were immediate, but his gaze softened when he caught your amused expression.

just as he was about to call them out, cassandra stepped into the hallway. she had only overheard the conversation but hadn’t understood the full context, since she wasn’t there for the building of the plan.

she crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.

"selina's getting married," she said bluntly, looking between the brothers. "and you’re all acting like idiots. it’s not like she hasn’t moved on. she’s been with someone else for a while now."

damian and jason blinked in unison, looking a little stunned with how long selina has been with her partner, considering she had ever so recently left their dad. "wait, what?" jason asked, his confusion growing. "she—"

"she moved on, guys," cassandra said, shaking her head.

"she’s already marrying someone else. you know how she is. if she sees bruce with someone else, she’s probably gonna think it's funny more than anything."

dick spoke. "you dont know that."

tim frowned. "you really think so?"

"yeah, because she knows what she wants. and she’s not holding onto stuff she can’t control," cassandra replied coolly.

"i want the best for bruce too, but you can’t just sit here and overthink it."

jason scowled. "that’s because bruce is—"

"just go talk to him yourselves," cassandra cuts in, dismissing them. "stop standing around like it’s a tragedy and act like adults."

her bluntness caused the brothers to retreat, but their expressions remained conflicted. as they all walked away, you and bruce shared a quiet, knowing glance.

bruce sighed. "i never thought i’d have to explain myself to them this way."

you smirked, your tone light and sweet as your dimples showed. "you’ve been a little distracted lately. it’s okay."

"maybe," bruce said, staring at your dimples and remembering the first time he had ever seen them.

"but things don’t seem simple anymore."

"maybe they never were," you replied.

“or maybe simple is too simple for us.”

fin.

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next chapter…

[aphroditeinthesea]

“ guilty as sin ”

jason grace x fem!reader ⚡️

if there’s no such as thing as bad thoughts, why is y/n feeling so guilty? | pt. 2

⚠️ cheating, swearing, breaking girl code, make out, sexual insinuation & while i was posting this there was random lightning and thunder so took that as a sign that this was pretty good

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first thing Y/N noticed about Jason was his girlfriend. Okay, maybe that wasn't the first thing, but it was up there. Maybe the first thing she noticed was his hair, the way that sun shined around it, making his aura glow. Or maybe it was the way his eyes were so vibrant that she felt like she was drowning in the Blue Nile. Or, gods, his muscles. The way his shirt was barely able to conceal his abs. Then, his absolutely beautiful girlfriend, who surprise, surprise, was a daughter of Aphrodite.

Of course she knew she had to keep these feelings locked inside a vault. Especially at how she so easily befriended Piper, who if she knew about these feelings, would have Y/N’s head. But how was she supposed to? Whenever she saw him, basically doing nothing, her mind already had images of him flashing in her mind that she tried so desperately to flick away.

But once the feelings had gotten too intense, she had to tell someone. So she turned to the wisest person she knew, Annabeth Chase. She decided to walk to the Athena cabin after training. She found the blonde reading a book on her bed. She approached her, speaking up, “hey, can we talk?” she looked around, “privately?”

Annabeth nodded before leaving alongside Y/N. She led her to cabin 3, which was uninhabited since the disappearance of Percy.

“What’s wrong?” Annabeth began.

Y/N sighed before explaining the ordeal to the girl. Excluding certain fantasies about the boy that not even Zeus himself could get her to confess.

“As a girlfriend of a guy who everyone has a crush on,” she began, seeming annoyed at her own statement, “don't act on it.”

Y/N nodded, “yeah, I could never act on it, I mean, Piper’s my friend,” she paused and looked up at the daughter of Athena, “I’m not a bad person am I?”

“There’s no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk.”

But after a few months. After they found out the memories were fake, that Jason was a Roman demigod, that there was no relationship to begin with, Y/N had the guilty hope that they would break up. But no. Instead they continued dating? She was furious, while also hating herself every second of every day. She had thought that maybe after all this time the feelings would go away. But they didn't! They wouldn't! They couldn't!

Every time she saw the two of them together, she wanted to vomit. Especially when they’d act all couple-like and kissing and hugging and standing within a ten foot radius.

One day at archery practice, she was about to shoot, when she saw the couple walking nearby. She immediately sunk into herself. She drew back her arrow, sulking, until she heard a loud, “ow, fuck!”

She looked up, realizing that she had accidentally shot the foot of the son of Apollo that had been helping her. She gasped, “oh my gods, I’m so sorry.”

He sat on the grass, holding onto his bleeding foot, “dont worry about it,” he hissed through the pain. A few other campers ran over to help him over to the infirmary.

She awkwardly looked around, unsure of what to do.

“What happened, Y/N?” The sound of Piper’s voice behind her caught her attention.

She paused, looking up at the blond boy before back to Piper, “I got distracted and, uhm, accidentally shot him.”

“Is he okay?” Jason questioned.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she brushed off, “a little arrow in the foot never killed anyone.”

“Achilles would beg to differ,” he remarked with a smirk. Gods, that was going to be the death of her, The way his scar curved with his mouth. She liked to imagine he got the scar in a battle to the death against a Roman beast- or whatever, she didn't really understand what happened at that camp, other than the fact that they had really hot guys.

She must have been staring for too long as Piper looked back up at her boyfriend herself, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N panicked, “I should go see if he’s okay,” she ran off to the direction of the infirmary.

“You shot someone in the foot?!”

“Annabeth, I really don't feel like talking about this right now.”

“No, Y/N,” she stood in front of Y/N, “why?”

“Jason-”

Annabeth shook her head, “he has a girlfriend.”

“I know, that’s the problem-”

“She’s not the problem, Y/N,” the girl interrupted again, “you're being so immature, you have to get over this.”

Y/N turned around to see Piper and Jason laughing about something. She looked back at Annabeth, “I’ll try.”

That next week, she had gotten a date with a son of Hermes. It was a nice date, too. A picnic on the dock during the campfire.

“I was originally born in Minnesota, but then we moved to New Hampshire-” his voice was drowned out by her thoughts. She felt so… faithful to Jason. If it's make believe, why does it feel like a vow? She felt like he had written ‘mine’ on her upper thigh in her mind- “what about you?”

“Oh, I’ve never been to Michigan.”

He raised an eyebrow, “I asked if you liked strawberries?”

“Oh,” she looked at the strawberry she had accidentally crushed in her hand, “yeah.”

“You don't like me, do you?”

She shook her head, “no, nothing with you. You're great, this picnic is amazing, I’m just… I am so in love with one of my best friends’ boyfriend. I’m just trying to get over him.”

“Jason?”

She looked at him, her mouth agape, “how did you…?”

“A good guess.”

She hid her face in her hands, tears welling in her eyes, “am I allowed to cry?”

He pulled her into a hug, “go talk to him.”

New advice? She’ll take it!

She stood up, “I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you, promise!” she claimed before running off to the fire. Everyone was beginning to disperse, when the blond hair caught her eye. She rushed over to him, “I need to talk to you.”

He looked confused, but nodded, leading her into his cabin, “what’s up?”

“I have a huge fucking crush on you,” she blurted, “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. And I thought that if I told you, it would go away. I’m sorry.”

He stayed silent for a minute, thinking. He ran his fingers through his hair. Did everything about him have to be this fucking hot?

“I have a girlfriend.”

“I know.”

He shook his head, “no, I need to remind myself of that. Y/N,” he walked closer to her, taking her hands in his, “I really like you, Y/N.”

She let out a deep breath, “Jason, that doesn't help.”

“It doesn't help me either, that’s why I’ve been trying to ignore it, but,” his right hand let go of hers, finding its way to her lips, “look at you.” He slowly leaned down to kiss her. Once, twice, thrice, four- over and over again. She wasn't even sure when she was suddenly pinned to his bed as their kisses got messier. His fingers traced the skin under her shirt, sending shivers down her spine, gasping when he would zap her.

“Jase,” she breathed, “this is really bad.”

He bit her bottom lip, “I know, we shouldn't-”

She kissed him again, “no.”

He leaned back, “Y/N, we really can’t.”

“I know, I know,” she heavily breathed, “but what are you saying?”

He stood up, forcing his glasses back on, “I need to go talk to Piper,” he grabbed her hand, helping her up, “go back to your cabin, let’s just forget about this.”

“No.”

“Y/N, please, we can talk some other time, but please, just go for now.”

She nodded, tears in her eyes, “right, okay,” she followed behind as he walked to the door, opening it for her. She looked up at him, “goodnight, Jason.”

He gently touched her arm, “goodnight.”

She walked out feeling shame and guilt fill her body. She felt it in all her limbs, making it hard for her to walk, feeling pulled down by her emotions, she wondered, without ever touching his skin, how could I be guilty as sin?

[devildomwriter]

Strike The Harp and Join the Chorus | Luke, Raphael, & Simeon x Reader

.9K Words | Raphael, Simeon, Luke, and Solomon | GN! Reader | CW: none

Summary — You decide to help Luke when he struggles to learn the harp. Raphael and Simeon are happy to have you join them. Solomon is amused as always.

As you read on the couch the most melodies tune you’d ever heard rung through the house. You immediately set the book aside and got to your feet. You waited for the sound again and immediately followed it like a lure.

You stopped outside of Luke’s door where you heard him groan loudly. Simeon said something to him but you couldn’t make out the words, they didn’t sound like they were in a human language.

You knocked on the door and the room went quiet. You took a few steps back and Raphael poked his head out of the door.

“Oh, hello ___. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were over…” he apologized and Simeon and Luke walked up behind him greeting you warmly.

“I was just borrowing a book from Solomon to read…what was that sound?” You couldn’t help but immediately change the subject.

“Oh, that!” Simeon said excitedly.

“No! I’m not ready!” Luke exclaimed but he was ignored and Raphael opened the door more widely for you to come in.

You were surprised to see three harps of varying sizes in his room. Luke pulled his hat over his face to hide his embarrassment.

“A harp? Angels really play harps?” You asked, surprised and Raphael nodded.

“Mostly in celebration. This is Luke’s first year performing for our Christmas Eve ceremony but…”

“I was busy baking!” Luke protested.

“No excuses now,” Simeon chided. “This is very important. All that matters is we have time now.”

“I forgot it was this year…” Luke pouted as he held the harp.

You tilted your head curiously and came up with an idea that’d please you and probably help Luke.

“What if I played with you?” You offered and the three angels looked at you stunned.

“You want to perform the harp in two weeks in front of all of Heaven for our Father?”

“Oh no-no-no-no!” You protested. “I meant…like right now? What if we learned together?” You explained more clearly. You could not believe you nearly signed yourself up for potential embarrassment in front of the creator or everything and every single one of his “children.”

Raphael and Simeon nodded. This seemed more in line for you and Luke beamed excitedly. “Really!? You’ll do it too?” He asked and Simeon nodded and stepped away from his harp for you to take a seat.

Raphael shut the door behind you. You were now trapped in this situation as you couldn’t just back out after seeing how happy Luke was to have you there struggling right alongside him.

Raphael demonstrated on his harp where to hold your hands when at rest and explained the different cords. Luke watched attentively and you nodded along hoping you were processing the information.

“This is a pedal harp,” Raphael began to explain and Simeon from behind you adjusted your hands.

“Make sure to relax your hands, you could hurt yourself otherwise,” he advised and you nodded. Simeon gently leaned the harp against your shoulder, helping hold it a bit to keep the weight off of you as this thing was giant.

Raphael watched and waited for you to get comfortable before pointing out the different colors of the strings. The color variation wasn’t very obvious to you as these harps were designed for the eyes of an angel so you had to squint closely and just hope you were doing it right.

“The notes repeat like a piano, these are A, these are B, these are C, ___ that’s D…” Raphael noticed your hand was on the wrong one so Simeon quickly adjusted it for you as you blushed.

“Don’t give up yet ___,” Luke encouraged. You appreciated the encouragement but wondered if you seemed like the type to insanely give up like that. Have you done that before? You thought back to Raphael’s singing lessons and agreed this had happened at least once. There was just no way you’d ever get your voice to sound as heavenly as his.

“Good, now try to guess where D, E, F, and G are,” he recommended as you thought they followed alphabetically as had the first ones.

Solomon got home after an hour and followed the same pleasant sound to Luke’s room as you had.

He stood outside the door and listened in.

“___ that’s the B cord, try again,” he heard Raphael and was surprised to learn you were here. Without knowing what was going on, now that he knew you were involved he invited hustled into Luke’s room.

“My, what do we have—“

“Not now! I almost got it!” You immediately interrupted Solomon who backed away in surprise. Luke, Simeon, and Taohale all shushed him and leaned in focusing on you as after a solid hour you successfully played your first few notes.

Luke got up and cheered for you. He felt much more confident after listening to you and now that he saw even you could do a little bit he was much more assured of himself.

Solomon was still very confused about what was happening but after twenty minutes of watching and listening he was satisfied and so were you.

You left for the night and waved goodbye to everyone promising to be back for more lessons the next evening. Raphael grinned, proud you were sticking to your promise.

When you got home to the house of lamentation you excitedly announced to the brothers sitting around the table what you were up to.

“Guys guess what! I can play the harp!”

[five-flavor-soup]

This is technically in response/as an addition to a post on the supposed ‘double standard’ in the fandom between Zuko and Jet as Katara’s love interests, but it’s been so long since it was posted and I figured the OP would be entirely uninterested in my word vomit, especially after like one and half years—so, separate post. I added a link for those interested. There's a cut because this got quite long lmao.

In short, the post supposes the argument that though Jet would’ve made Katara kill people (something Zuko very much Did Not Do, no matter what you think about The Southern Raiders), he cleaned up his act after this. Zuko, on the other hand, did lots of Really Bad Things to Katara & Co. with far more frequency than Jet did and got redeemed after a multitude of episodes doing Various Things Moste Evile. To then slap Jet with The Toxic Ex-label and see Zuko as the ‘healthier’ and ‘better’ option creates a Double Standard(™) within the fandom, which is supposedly bad and not an arguably incorrect reading. 

But the differences in fandom perception between Jet and Zuko as Love Interests for Katara (one of which canonically, and the other potentially and apparently talked about in the writer’s room) are easily explained, as can the Supposed Double Standard—just by thinking about it from Katara’s viewpoint, or even the audience’s. Because, well, the worst things Jet ‘almost’ ended up doing didn’t happen because of outside interference only. 

That’s the important bit here. He 100% would’ve drowned an entire village just to get rid of a handful of Fire Nation soldiers, had Sokka not managed to evacuate everybody. He 100% would’ve grievously injured two people who, as far as Jet and everybody else were aware, were refugees who might not even be firebenders — considering nobody else saw Iroh heat up his tea, he could’ve been wrong — in an attempt to prove his own hunch. Had the guards not been there, had Zuko not been able to fight back with swords, Jet would’ve genuinely attempted to wound them for as much as a puff of smoke. And Jet consistently involves bystanders (innocent or not) in his desperate quest to harm and defeat the Fire Nation: the Gaang (and particularly Katara, through explicitly manipulative means) and the villagers in Jet; Zuko, Iroh, and the people in the teashop in City of Walls and Secrets. Additionally, we don’t see more violence from him because he’s not a main character like Zuko is—though it’s implied that Jet beats up villagers who are supposedly in cahoots with the Fire Nation often, only agreeing to turn over a new leaf when he, Smellerbee, and Longshot decide to move to Ba Sing Se. 

Zuko explicitly and frequently doesn’t harm people: that, or it isn’t important to the plot. He doesn’t burn down the village on Kyoshi, he literally only manages to lightly singe it. He threatens people with violence frequently but never actually goes in for the kill. I’d argue that the most explicitly violent thing he does in Book 1 is breaking Aang out of the Pouhai Stronghold—for his own ends obviously, but if it’s spelled like treason and sounds like treason, it’s probably treason. When he thinks of robbing the pregnant couple while he’s on the run, he stops himself of his own volition; when he considers using Appa to catch Aang (this was a point made against Zuko in the post), he’s unaware of what Appa’s been through prior to that point and sees him as no more than an animal used for travel, much like the ostrich horse he stole earlier in the season. 

Zuko’s schtick throughout Book 1 and 2 is that he doesn’t want to think of the consequences of his actions. His plans are never fully complete. He doesn’t think of how he’s going to get a chained, notoriously slippery little eel of an Avatar to the Fire Nation, and he doesn’t think about what would happen to twelve-year-old Aang after they got there—which is horrible of him, but it also shows an odd, ignorant kind of innocence that you’d associate with a kid who’s got a hard time telling right from wrong. Like, I love Zuko dearly, adore him even, but kiddo doesn’t think ahead until the Book 2 finale and even that’s debatable. He’ll eventually start thinking ahead a little bit but for the most part, he doesn’t. Not saying that takes away responsibility, because it absolutely doesn’t, but it is telling of Zuko’s character: he’s an ‘act first, think later’-kind of guy, all ‘fuck around; find out; maybe success’. His sole goal throughout Book 1 and 2 is going home, without even thinking on how to get there beyond like, Avatar in my custody => back in Fire Nation with Avatar => dad loves me again. And he says that his only intention is to go home too, in Ep 2 of Book 1:

Aang: If I go with you, [He holds his staff in front of him as an offer, making sure Zuko understands that he does not wish to continue fighting.] will you promise to leave everyone alone? [The camera cuts to a side-view of the area, Zuko's men still surrounding him, spears poised. After a brief moment of hesitation, Zuko erects himself and nods in agreement. Aang is apprehended by Zuko's men, who take his staff . . . ] Zuko: [Boarding the ship up the walkway. Determined.] Head a course for the Fire Nation. I'm going home.

(Added emphasis for my point)

Zuko is not the Big Bad. He’s not The Largest Threat. He never is. In Book 1 it’s Zhao, in Book 2 it’s Azula, and in Book 3 it’s Ozai. Zuko is a consistent threat, yes, but not a particularly large one no matter how good of a fighter he is. Because he’s presented to us as a disastrously hurt and traumatised little brat who we, the audience, are supposed to feel sorry for, and slowly grow fond of. Because we learn in The Storm that the notion of “caring for others is weak” has literally been branded into him. Because he keeps getting back up to fight, but consistently holds back. We are shown that he knows, on some level, that what he’s doing is wrong: the text suggests that Zuko is actively suppressing his morals. And by the time Zuko hires an assassin to ensure the Avatar is dead, we know that Zuko is incredibly unhappy with his choice(s) and is desperate to be safe; that he’s uncomfortable but wants to be comfortable; that he’s incorrect about the source of his fear while he’s back in the palace. The audience is shown this explicitly. 

By contrast, we’re shown that Jet is fully aware that those villagers will die. He’s fully aware that, if he manages to prove the two refugees are firebenders, they’ll be arrested and probably mutilated (if the hand-crushing is any indication). I love Jet and his character, but he’s supposed to be the example of poisoning yourself with your hatred, anger, and hurt. He’s revenge that goes too far, because he doesn’t allow himself closure. He knows the consequences and isn’t shown to care for them, as long as his goal is furthered.

And there is the small, but significant, difference between the two characters: Zuko initially just wants to capture the Avatar, is purposefully remaining unaware of what will happen when he does so, and is clearly shown to change, while Jet just wants to punish firebenders and is very aware of what will be necessary for him to do so, with a handful of lines of how he ‘stopped being like that’. And honestly, Jet is far more mature than Zuko is for quite some time, regarding the violence of war—basically as mature as Zuko eventually becomes at the tail-end of his redemption arc. But Zuko’s maturity is at that point healthier, because he doesn’t want to genuinely do harm. 

In regards to their separate relationships with Katara, there’s these fantastic points that @sokkastyles made in reply to the post:

The fact that Zuko actually did change and Katara actually forgave him makes ALL the difference. [ . . . ] The thing about Jet is how manipulative he was with Katara. He not only almost made her kill innocents, but he lied to her about the man he attacked having a knife when he was called out, so that Katara would see her as righteous. Someone who is willing to lie in order to make themselves seem good and someone who says they are going to change but then does the same things doesn’t have a good track record, and that’s a more troubling relationship dynamic than someone who acts as an upfront enemy but then sincerely changes.

And: 

I do think it makes sense to focus on manipulation being worse than being a cartoon villain when we're talking about personal relationships. I think many people can relate to having someone like Jet in their lives who seems nice but who lies and manipulates to justify their own bad behavior despite repeatedly claiming that they will change. Not that many people will experience being tied to a tree by someone who wants you to tell them where the Avatar is, and it is completely reasonable for people to be more forgivable of things Zuko did as a villain than things Jet did to Katara when he claimed to be a friend.

I actually don’t have anything to add to this, lol. It’s succinct and well-worded.

Lastly, in addition the relatability and the relationships being different (the manipulative, emotionally hurt, and self-proclaimed anti-hero versus the initially childish, explicitly confused and desperate cartoon villain, plus the girl they hurt horribly), there’s also the problem of Jet not being a main character. Jet is a relatively well-written side character, whilst Zuko is very quickly established as a main-ish character with his own POV (as the writers decided during the conceptualisation that he’d be joining Team Avatar eventually). Zuko’s troubling, self-destructive nature that has been forced upon him and his Tragic Childhood is shown in high definition. The audience is supposed to eventually be okay with Zuko and hopefully like him, slowly adding puzzle pieces to complete the picture of a horrific earlier youth and treatment by nearly everybody he knows except Iroh. Something like this isn’t necessary with Jet, not just because he was already incredibly likeable and understandable from his introduction and onwards, but also because he’s neither a villain nor a main character. 

There’s multiple reasons as to why Zuko is often seen as the ‘better’ option, just like there are multiple reasons why Jet and Zuko are compared so frequently—they’re both traumatised teenage boys who ‘rebel’ to get some semblance of control back, but we see Zuko change into a kid anyone would be a little bit proud and fond of and that doesn’t happen with Jet. Double standard or not, Zuko and Jet are different characters who the writers also treated very differently, on purpose. It makes sense to me that the audience would think Zutara is the ‘less bad’ or far better option. We know far more about Zuko than we know about Jet; and Jet’s redemption arc, if we can even call it that, halts permanently when Zuko’s is reaching the height it for him to go into a freefall, ultimately culminating in a genuine redemption. We, the audience, know this. So does Katara.

[two-white-butterflies]

maybe this time

Description: Two old friends meet again, wearing older faces. Well, I guess you know how this works.

In which, you have a flawed relationship, a flawed breakup and a flawed reunion with the one that you love the most.

Pairing: lawyer!thranduil/fem!reader (ethnicity not specified)

Warnings: angst, age gap.

AUGUST 2012

It won't end just because I say no.

Three days ago, the worst thing happened. You found an engagement ring in your boyfriend's coat pocket. Gods, yes you envisioned a successful future with him inside of it - but getting married is too soon! "I think we need to talk," you keep your voice low.

You couldn't even look him in the eye, rather you were focused on the herringbone floors of your NYC apartment. His eyes light up at the sight of you. His girlfriend of five-years. His girlfriend who survived the hell of a law-school with him, and stood beside him while he built his law firm from ground up. His girlfriend. His future fiancee.

"What is it about?" He raises an eyebrow, patting the empty spot on the sofa - motioning for you to sit beside him. You reluctantly comply, burying yourself deep into his chest and inhaling his scent of - well, there is nothing that can describe his scent.

"I found something in your coat yesterday," his grip tightens around your waist. "- I don't think I'm ready to get married." you quickly add, not leaving enough time for him to respond.

There were still a million things you wanted to do on your own. "Oh," usually a very composed lawyer, but now unable to form a comprehensible sentence. "I-I," he stumbled in his speech, unaware that his grip loosened around your body and you now moved away.

"I'm sorry for not taking your feelings into account." He apologized. His eyes were watery, he had unbelievable restraint when it came to fighting in court battles but the thought of losing you makes him cry. "Is there any reason for that? If you are comfortable with sharing?" He asks taking unnoticeable deep breaths.

You stare at the floor again, playing with the rings on your finger. "I'm sorry. I don't think that I'm in a place where marriage is a choice yet." You breathed. "- I'm gonna finish med-school this year. I want to be a neurosurgeon. I don't think that I'll be able to balance that while being married and trying to build a family of our own." You explained.

Both of you unwilling to address the elephant in the room.

25 and 34.

It wasn't an age chasm per se, but you were in different points of your lives. Thranduil was already successful - known in his field as the thorn in every defendant's side, and you - well, no one even knew you in the university that you were studying in.

"I don't even know if I want to have children," your voice turns into a whisper at the last sentence. His features merge into something indescribable - sadness and frustration merged into one.

He's a good man. He's never forced you to do something that you didn't want to do with your entire heart, and it is because of that reason - you're mad at him. Because you know that he'll still stand beside you, make the sacrifice of never getting married or never having children if it meant being with you.

You are not God, for anyone to make that sacrifice for.

"That's alright. Children are annoying." He answers, and you chuckle. "You are so good at lying," you mused. "- but I know that kids are the only thing you want in this life." You read him like an open book.

He reaches for your hands, entwining it with his. "Hey, we're going to get through this. I'm glad that you were comfortable enough to talk to me about this. I completely understand and I am not disappointed." He informs, he cages you in an embrace, and you lean deeper into his touch until both of you were slumped on the couch.

"I know that you feel pressured because all your friends are getting married. I don't wanna be that bitch who sounds so selfish-"

"You are not selfish for being yourself. You don't owe me anything." He corrects, pressing a kiss to your forehead. A sigh escapes your mouth. "Remember in our first date, I asked you what your favorite color was." He reminded and you felt blessed to have a lawyer as a boyfriend, for he seldom forgets.

"Mine was magenta, and you didn't even tell me what your favorite color was that day. All you did was tease me about magenta." You chuckled, although that feeling still lingered on your chest.

"Well, I'd live in a magenta house if it meant living with you." Thranduil smiles, and you remember smiling in return. Phew, that worked out better than I imagined.

It's all going to be better in the end. You'll finish med-school, and deal with neurosurgery. Then hopefully, you do get married to him.

Six months later you were chosen to work in a hospital in Singapore. A country known for being a pioneer in Asian healthcare. It was a pleasure to be here, you made a lot of friends - and were able to learn how to do things on your own, without the help of Thranduil.

Thranduil Oropher Went out to grab some groceries. I got grapes but I remembered that you aren't here ):

You might be time to get over your grape-hate 🙏🏻

Thranduil Oropher Never. I gave them to Elrond.

You aww i bet the twins loved it Seen 4:52pm

A sigh escapes your mouth seeing that he was yet to reply to your message. It was 5am in the morning back in NYC.

He's probably asleep or getting ready for work.

The only difficult thing in working in Singapore was the IDL. When he's awake, you're asleep and vice versa. "Made you some coffee," Anchilee offers, placing the cup of joe on your desk. A sigh escapes your mouth. "Thank you," you mumbled taking a sip.

"Having relationship problems?" She asks, and you nod. "It's really tough since he's halfway across the world," you breathed. "It's pretty usual for couples to hit a rocky road especially because of distance. A lot of them break up, but I think your relationship is strong enough to stand against the test of time." She speaks.

Oh yeah, about that. You have doubts.

Your phone rings. Thranduil Oropher is calling... you slide to answer. "Hello?" You ask. "Hi, sorry I'm in the middle of driving." You hear his voice on the other line. "Drive safe, you shouldn't be calling me," you gently scolded him but he responds with a silence - probably focusing on the road. "How are you?" He asks.

Even after all these years, his voice still brings warmth to your soul. "I'm okay, I'm in the middle of my lunch break and I have to shadow an operation later. How about you? You're a little early for work." You make an observation, and he hums. "Early bird gets the worms. But seriously speaking I want to focus on this high-profile case, anyways, you are free next week right?" He strangely asks.

"Yep, I might spend the entire week playing DOTA, which I do not have an addiction to, an intern just recommended the game to me." You put out a quick disclaimer before he could scold you about the dangers of addiction to online games. "Well, put your computer away because I booked tickets to go there. Let's have fun, maybe look around the city since you tell me you've never done." He says.

You wanted to feel happy, but the smile doesn't reach your eyes. I love him, but I'm starting to love being alone by myself. The life that you built here in Singapore. It is lonely, and you like it.

"That's amazing, do you want me to pick you up at the airport?" You inquired, concern still dripping from your tone. "No, I'll take the train and I'll stop by to buy some iced coffee and fries." He narrates his game plan. You don't doubt his ability to navigate a foreign country.

"Ohh, please grab the ones from McDonalds. It'll be better if you buy the McDonalds from there, the fries here don't hit the same." You requested, and he chuckles. "Okay, I will smuggle American fries to Singapore." He promised.

"Thank you, I love you."

"I love you too, goodbye."

"Bye."

(DECEMBER 2018)

Thranduil never came to Singapore. You had a fight a day before his flight. You won't go into the details, but it was horrible - for the lack of better words. There were two types of fights: one that can be fixed by a few hugs and kisses, and some that are much better unresolved.

Six years later, and you want to believe that you've forgotten about him. My December is sad, because I miss you. You hear the music sing from outside of your door, damn, your neighbor always has that speaker on. A sigh escapes your mouth and you opt to put headphones on, "I swear to god," you mumbled while opening your gmail account to check for any important emails.

thranduiloropher@oropherlaw.ol sent an email! Just Now

"What the fuck!" You close your laptop shut.

You open the laptop slightly, as if the email was going to leap out of its feet and jump at you. "Holy fuck, why would he email me?" Your throat suddenly felt dry. You click on the dash and the email appears.

thranduiloropher@oropherlaw.ol

Good evening.

I have a confession to make, the first time I saw you, I liked you.

I've spent a lot of time with people, both men and women, and I've taken them to fancier restaurants than the restaurant you took me on our first date, the only difference was - I liked you, I hated them.

Out of all the people I saw you were the only person to have ordered a pain au chocolat during breakfast. The only person who'd order an iced coffee the first thing in the morning. I told myself, I like this girl. She's going to be my wife.

You have something special inside of you. You have that spirit. You are by far the bravest girl I've ever met. Days, weeks, and months passed. I don't know if it's because you opened your heart to me, but we became lovers. I don't know if it's because I'm good at praying, or if it's just because I'm the lord's chosen. I never thought that love could be this exciting. I love every moment. I love every bit of you.

Your love. Your kindness. Your gentle disposition.

We bared our souls to each other. Because of you, I started believing in myself. I survived through law-school and the struggle of ensuring that my law firm wouldn't fail. Because of you, I found the beauty in law, I started to fight for what I believed in. I began to be a better person. I started to be brave.

Five years together, and I thought we were good. More than five years going on forever, or so I thought. What happened? Why did we break up? I'm writing this email a few weeks after our breakup. Elrond has been scolding me as I've only been staring at my flight tickets for the entire week. I've been calling your phone.

But today, I decided to stop bothering you.

I have decided to let you be, and give you the space that you need. That's why I'm sending this email, six years from today. You'll be thirty-one years old by then. I hope that you are happy. I hope that you were able to do everything that you wanted to do, everything that I stopped you from doing because I wanted you to marry me, because I wanted to chain you to me, unable to comprehend that I was doing the opposite of what you did to me.

I hope that after six years, you're able to decide if you want to be with me forever. I'll wait, knowing that one day, I'll be back. I will do everything it takes to bring you back. I will never lose hope that we will have our second chance.

Yours, Thranduil.

"Shit." The first words that escaped your mouth once you realized that you had been crying. You silently wiped the tears from your eyes. If only you knew that he felt this way back then.

Tauriel hands you a glass of champagne. "Thank you for attending my party. I've been begging you for years now." She places a hand on your back, guiding you to navigate the sea of people in the living room. "I'm really busy in the hospital, and this is my only real weekend after months of waiting." You chuckled, taking a sip of the fizzing champagne.

Honestly, you needed this party after the whirlwind of emotions that you felt last night. "It must suck to be a surgeon, but then again with that paycheck, I'd lick a Walmart bathroom." She whispers the last part in a hush, and a slight giggle escapes your mouth.

"What are we celebrating anyways?" You ask.

"My dad is retiring." She informs, and a chill runs down your spine. Right, her dad works for Thranduil. I hope that he's not here.

"Congratulations, finally the beginning of a well deserved vacation." You forced yourself to speak, finally catching a glimpse of a familiar figure in the crowd. Thranduil, the man that loved you.

He sees you too, and your eyes momentarily meet.

31 and 40.

Tauriel sees your lingering stare. "Oh, that's my dad's boss. Justice Thranduil Oropher, he's single. I think he used to have a girlfriend, but he was too heartbroken and he never dated anyone again." She whispers again, moving you into a more secluded space.

Tauriel is your best friend (in the whole world).

"He's my ex," you blurt out and she almost chokes on her piña colada. "What the fuck!" She yells, her face suddenly red at the sudden reveal of the truth. "Why did you break up with him?" She interrogated.

Obviously, no one in their right mind would ever break up with him. He was everything that a woman desired, tall, handsome, intelligent and rich - and things wouldn't have ended the way it did, if the circumstances had been different. "I get it that you're this beautiful hotshot surgeon, but he's seriously the only man who fits your standards. Correction, the only living man." Tauriel glares at you.

She was going to give you another monologue about how you 'fumbled the bag', but alas you will not give her that chance. "It's a long story. We just had really wrong timing," you shook your head.

It could have ended differently.

You should have said yes to his proposal, regardless of the feelings of sadness you felt at first. "Maybe this time?" Tauriel raised an eyebrow, teasing you. "Maybe not," You giggled.

"Hello," a voice from behind you greets.

This better be -

You are greeted with an unfamiliar face. "I'm Aragorn. Nice to meet you." He greets and you introduce yourself while shaking his hand. He was quite an eccentric looking figure, he had a clean shaven face, and he had a tattoo on his pointer finger.

"Oh you're that guy in the band." You smile, remembering the nights you spent singing his songs. "Yeah, the Fellowship." He confirms.

"- I'm sorry for ambushing you, but I felt alone in a sea filled of distinguished professionals dressed to the nines, and I don't mean to offend but.."

"I'm alone." You cut him off with a chuckle. "- it's alright, I basically have no social life as my work takes up the majority of time." You explained. To other people, being on the call 24/7 was hell, but to you it was the good type of hell - if saving people can be called that. "You are the surgeon friend of Tauriel." He remembers.

"Are you friends with her too?" You inquired and he shakes his head. "A friend of a friend," he corrects.

Before you could reply to him, he glances at the man behind you.

You turn around, and see Thranduil.

"If you will excuse me," Aragorn pats your shoulder.

The sight of him still brings such warm feelings to your heart, filling your body with joy. There was silence between you. A silence that seemed to speak louder than words.

"You still look the same," he breaks the silence. "You look different," you answered. He had a different hairstyle. He wore a black suit instead of the dark blue that he always wears. He smelled like powdery flowers instead of after-shave. He is different.

"I hope that that's a compliment," he cracks a smile.

Wow, you're beginning to sound like two old friends, but he doesn't want to be friends. He doesn't even want to talk to you unless it all goes back to normal. "How you've been?" You asked, mirroring his smile, attempting to navigate a conversation with him. "I've been worst, how about you?" He answers vaguely, no longer able to speak random flowing sentences about small occurrences in his daily life.

His response was a generic response now.

Something that flows languidly out of his tongue.

How are you? I'm okay. Are you alright? Yeah.

"I think I am worst," your nose scrunches up.

He stares at you, the same indescribable look that he wore when you first fought. How about now? His eyes said. Let's try again. His silence said far louder than words. "Do you think that things could have ended more differently?" You inquired, and he is bitterly reminded of your bluntness (a feature he still adores.)

"You got the email," he smiles bitterly.

"I managed to read through it, and I don't really know what to do." You shrugged, the distance between you becoming closer and closer. "You can delete the email." He jokes, "- I felt really guilty when we called things off. I felt like I was losing the love of my life, and I was. I did. But I was also really thankful that it ended, because being alone taught me a lot of things. I'm not the same person anymore." Your teeth burrows into the insides of your cheeks.

"It was the wrong time. We've never good timing," he comments, and you are thrown back into that video you made during New Year's Eve 2010, where you were both a minute too soon in celebrating the New Year. "I'm miserable." You admit.

Five friends. A million dollars in your bank account. A real estate portfolio, and you were miserable.

His features softened.

And you knew that he was miserable too.

"When you're a judge, you learn how to look at life in a different perspective. They say that criminals are vital to society because without them there wouldn't be cops, or lawyers or Justices like me. When you left, I figured that heartbreak is vital because it means that there is more room for love. But despite that, my heart still didn't have room for anyone - no other love other than yours, no other sadness." He takes a step forward, and you were thankful to have been in the secluded part of the gardens.

"- but if you love me just because you love me, that is not an enough reason. Love in its essence cannot feed a starving mouth. There needs to be respect, and kindness. Respect and kindness that was there between us, six years ago, but wasn't strong enough to fight against the test of time." He places his hands on your shoulders.

"Let's start again, as stronger people, and maybe this time it'll be the right timing." You proposed, your eyes having a conversation of its own. Love is always a beating risk, but that is part of the thrill.

A bird falls from its nest to learn how to fly.

"Let's try again, then." He agrees, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And somehow, that forehead kiss was more intimate than any kiss to the lips.

A/N: will always stand on the fact that if Thranduil was in the modern era he'd be a lawyer or a businessman. I always end up choosing lawyer cuz of personal opinions.

If you love my Thranduil fics just follow me and turn the notifs on. I unfortunately don't have enough time to do tags :((

Inspired by Starting Over Again (2014) although, I am not a Toni Gonzaga defender.

[bugmomwrites]

Weary

Dr Flug x Reader

Stealing my sister’s bf’s HBO password is the second best thing I’ve done this week. Whipping up a solid drabble in 30 minutes and refining it into a whole oneshot in the same night takes first place.

There’s like, one innuendo towards the end but everything else is straight up fluff. Story came to me after reading yet another shady thing a certain airline I won’t name did, but it sounds like “we ain’t going”. I am changing the names so I don’t end up dead in a van somewhere, but if you know you know ;)

—•• •—• ••—• •—•• ••— ——•

“…And then what happened?”, Flug yawns, looking up at you through his goggles. You smile gently, kissing the front of the bag where his forehead would be.

“Well, according to some sources…the former production and safety manager’s exact words were ‘if anything happens, I didn’t do it myself’,” you respond, reading the article off your phone. Using the same soft voice you use when you read picture books to a sleepy 505, except it was a news article turned Wikipedia rabbit hole.

You two had gone from listening to him explain the differences between a 767 and an Airvan, to him resting his bagged head in your lap as you click on various entries and articles, bouncing information back and forth. The person, a known whistleblower who had retired from the controversial airline a few years ago, had tried many a time to draw attention to the company’s shady practices. For him to die so suddenly, especially as more inside secrets came to light, was too fishy for the public to ignore.

“I’m no detective, but…”

“Assassination?”, you finished for him, raising a brow. The two of you exchanged knowing looks.

“Does the Dreamweaver have flexible wings?”, he grumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist to bury his head further into your tummy. It tickles, but you try not to laugh lest you disturb his rare peace. Moments like these didn’t happen often, and you knew if any of the others were to see you like this, Black Hat would tear you both a new one, and Demencia would never let you hear the end of it.

A few more minutes go by, occasionally filled in with fun facts about the company’s various other incidents that had made the news in the past. You click off of yet another one where a plane was literally falling apart mid-air, having to make an emergency landing in a massive blaze. That was enough internet for today, at this rate you’d never want to hop in a plane again. You carefully set your phone to the side after checking the time.

“If I were him, I wouldn’t have let them get me.”

“I know, Flug.”

“And I would have documented everything.”

“Mhm”, you rest a hand on his back, your own eyes growing heavy.

“I’d go down there and put them back together myself. I’d personally take all of their shitty scrap parts, and make a better airplane than any of those so called professionals,” he says disdainfully.

You smile as he heaves a long sigh, like the weight of the world rests upon his weary shoulders; which isn’t far from the truth, if the way Black Hat nags him and Demencia torments him on a regular basis is any indication. Not to mention raising a son/care bear/science experiment through it all. But even if it’s not quite the whole earth, at the very least it’s the whole company. Everybody ought to give him more credit, himself included.

“If anybody could do such a thing, I know it’d be you, Flug. You’ve always had a brilliant mind.” He hums softly at the praise, feeling quite chuffed to know that at least someone in the manor besides his own son appreciated him not just for all he does, but who he is.

It’s quiet again for a few moments as he drifts in and out of consciousness, your hand gently rubbing his back until he speaks up again a few minutes later.

“And I’ll make you my co-pilot.”

This takes you by surprise, the hand rubbing his back stopping briefly as you let the words settle over the two of you. Reading between the lines was something you found yourself doing almost as often as reading his expression through his paper bag, the man still not quite comfortable enough to outright say all the things he’d had bouncing around in his head to you just yet. Your hand resumes as you test the waters, stuck between delicate hope and fear of possibly scaring him off.

“I…don’t know how to fly a plane. Nor do I have a pilots license.”

“Me neither, but I’ll show you how to do it in the cockpit. I’ll make sure you have a smooth ride for your first time.”

A pregnant pause falls over the both of you, and your whole face heats up, mind processing his words only to take a nosedive into the gutter. You open your mouth to respond only to be met with quiet snores from below, Flug blissfully unaware of the effect of his words.

‘Looks like the week finally caught up to him’, you think. Odds are he might not remember something like that when he woke up, but you could tease him about it later on. For now, you stretch your arms over your head and attempt to make yourself as comfy as possible without disturbing him, sleep beginning to overtake you as well. You glance down once more to where he dozes peacefully for the first time in years, committing it to memory before joining him in slumber.

“Buenas noches, Flug.”

—•• •—• ••—• •—•• ••— ——•

[messysketchyobeyme]

How to Woo a Human: Chapter 2

[Chapter 1], [Chapter 2]

Satan/Reader

(Nightbringer Spoilers)

Summary:

"Different humans have different love languages. Taking advantage of a human’s love language will allow you to gain their trust, which can be used to manipulate them easier."

As long as Satan ignored the parts about deception and manipulation and focused on the affection part, he was certain he could change himself into someone who would be worthy of love.

He would make sure of it.

—

Satan highlighted (with a magic disappearing highlighter; he would never defile a book) the first love language he saw: words of affirmation.

Reading the passage over, it seemed like he just had to compliment you. That was simple enough. There were so many things Satan could compliment you about.

You were kind, brave, funny, adventurous, and smart. He adored the way your nose would wrinkle whenever you were trying to quell your reaction to a strange smell or to whatever his ludicrous brothers were doing at the moment. He loved how you were quick on your feet, always coming up with a plan to get them out of any situation you guys found yourselves in. He admired your sorcery skills. He had never met anyone who could make Lucifer of all demons stumble like that. 

Honestly, Satan could go on and on about you.

And that was the problem. Satan couldn’t ramble on like a fool in front of you. What would you think? That he was as brainless and dim-witted as Mammon? No. He had to plan this out carefully, lest you think less of him.

Satan took out a pencil and notepad and jotted down some more of your attributes. While it was easy to get the broad strokes of your personality on paper, Satan found himself focusing on the minute details.

The way you would scrunch your eyebrows whenever you were concentrating on something, how you would go slightly cross-eyed from boredom whenever Lucifer lectured you, or the way you’d bite your lips when you were excited but wanted to hide it.

Skimming over what he had written down, Satan realized that he was starting to sound deranged. What was he supposed to do with these notes? Waltz up to you and say he likes the way your eyebrows wriggle? 

No, no, no, no. This was stupid. What was the first thing he wrote about you? You were kind?

Yeah, that could work. He could compliment your thoughtfulness. That was a normal thing to say to someone. 

Satan scribbled some more words of endearment on a set of index cards and stuffed them up his sleeves. They were just for reference. That was all.

Wiping off his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants, Satan stood up and left his bedroom. Leviathan had invited you to the House of Lamentation to play some games. That gave him the perfect time to strike. 

He stepped up to Leviathan’s door and placed his ear against it. Muffled noises. Hm.

Satan knocked on the door.

The noises stopped. Then, muffled whispers. Eventually, they stopped and someone opened the door.

“Satan? What are ya doin’ here?” Mammon asked. His voice was always a little too loud for Satan’s liking.

Satan peered behind Mammon. Leviathan and you were sitting across from each other with a board game lying between you two. Leviathan was too busy staring at the game and presumably strategizing to notice him. You smiled at Satan and waved.

Satan waved back. “I want to play, uhh…” He snuck another quick look behind Mammon. “Devilopoly,” he concluded after seeing the game pieces. 

That seemed to get Leviathan’s attention. “No!” Satan shriveled back while Leviathan tossed his hands up to explain. “No, I mean, I want you to play with us, but I’ve been doing so well!” He picked up his play money, which, to his credit, was quite a bit. “I managed to buy all of the big properties!”

“Oh, be quiet, Levi. Let Satan play. We can start over,” you said, clearing the board.

“You only want to start over because you’re in jail!” Leviathan pouted.

You shrugged impishly. Mammon shook his head and opened the door wider. “C’mon Satan. We could always use another player.”

“Thank you,” Satan said quietly before stepping inside.

“So, how much are ya willin’ to bet? We can start from a hundred Grimm and go from there.”

Never mind. Satan felt foolish to have even glanced in that sorry excuse of a demon’s direction.

“Ignore him, Satan. We’re not doing bets,” you said, patting the empty space next to you. “Come here and sit. You can choose between the shoe, the racket, or the demon horns.”

Satan chose the shoe.

Leviathan exhaled loudly through his nose, while Mammon sat down next to him. “Seriously, Levi? What are ya? Five?”

“Be quiet, Mammon.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. You handed the dice to Satan. “Here, you can go first.”

As he held out his hand, Satan sneakily peaked at one of the index cards hidden under his sleeve. He forced himself to make eye contact with you before saying, “Thank you. It was nice of you to let me go first.” Satan cringed at how robotic he sounded.

You gave him a look but didn’t dwell on it. “You’re welcome.”

Satan rolled the dice before throwing it on the board. Each die bounced once before flying off into two different directions.

Mammon yelped. “Hey, man, no need to be so aggressive with it!”

You pinched Mammon’s side, causing him to yelp, again. “Be nice, okay?” 

Satan’s face burned uncomfortably. He didn’t think he threw them that hard.

While Mammon busied himself with aggressive nodding, Leviathan stood up and peered at the dice. “Six,” he said before scooping them up and bringing them back to Satan.

Satan moved six spots, landing on the one with an image of the Akuber logo on it. “I’ll buy it,” he said, handing over his fake cash to you, the banker. He also gave the dice to you. He wanted an ample amount of opportunities to compliment you.

“Thanks, Satan.” You quickly rolled the dice and tossed it on the board. Eight. You began moving your piece, landing on a Chance spot. Picking up the card, you quirked up your lip but that was all your expression betrayed. You placed the card face down next to you. 

Satan tried to casually place his hand on his arm. He felt the index cards through his sleeve. “That was…” His voice started off too quiet, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “That was a smart play. You’re good at this game.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Well, it was mainly just luck.”

Dammit. Not even a thank you this time.

Your attention was quickly captured by Mammon. It was his turn now, and he was shaking the dice in his cupped hands with all of his might. Mammon’s eyes were squeezed shut, and he was muttering ���Boxcars…boxcars…” under his breath. He ended up rolling snake eyes.

Satan scratched at his knee. What was he doing wrong? He had already paid you two compliments, but you were no closer to falling for him than before. In fact, you seemed to be a little distant. Was Satan really that unlovable?

Gah, he was beginning to sound like Leviathan. That was disgusting in of itself.

The game continued on with Satan peppering you with the occasional complement. Each time, you would chuckle awkwardly or give him a half hearted thanks. Even Leviathan and Mammon were beginning to cast wary looks in his direction. Satan’s chest felt tight. 

What was he doing? Why would Satan ever think a couple of compliments would ever win your heart? Or convince you that he wasn’t the grotesque monster he feared he was? Satan swallowed thickly. He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t belong here. He needed to—

Something melodious filled the air, and Satan perked his head up to see you laughing. You were clutching your chest as you tried to catch your breath. “I–I can’t believe this is your…your third time going to jail!” you managed to choke out. “What are the odds?”

Leviathan scowled, his arms crossed. “Shut up! It’s not funny!” 

You tossed your head back slightly as you continued to giggle at Leviathan’s misfortune. The blue overhead lights caught your eyelashes just so, causing the tiny droplets of tears that clung to them to sparkle. Your eyebrows scrunched together the same way they would whenever you would focus on something. Satan made a mental note to update his list. 

Your grin stretched across your face, and it seemed to have lit up the entire room. At the very least, it ignited a fire deep within Satan’s very core. Now, his face was heating up for an entirely different reason. He didn’t understand how one human could look so captivating. You were perfect—wonderful inside and out. 

In a daze, Satan managed to breathe out a quiet, “You have a beautiful smile.”

You stopped laughing and turned to look at him with a wide-eyed stare. Your cheeks were still glowy, and your eyes were slightly dewy. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, but they quelled down once he noticed your expression. 

Satan had a hard time pinning it down. It didn’t seem unpleasant, per se, but it wasn’t looking all too positive, either. Did he say something wrong? A hasty apology was about to spill out of him when you began to speak.

“Uh, thank you, Satan,” you said, looking away. You bit your lip while staring at the gamer controller piece that was currently in the jail spot on the board. “I, ah, appreciate it. Truly.” A tiny, wobbly smile managed to sneak its way onto your face.

If Satan didn’t know better, he would have said you looked bashful. Or flustered. Or…

Satan blinked. 

Oh.

That one worked. 

Now, the butterflies seemed to have increased tenfold. The buzzing sensation throughout his body was becoming too much to bear. He couldn’t take this. 

Satan leapt up. “This game is boring,” he said quickly, “I don’t want to play anymore.” With that, Satan strode over to Leviathan’s door and ignored all three of your protests before leaving the room.

Satan made sure to slam Leviathan’s door shut before pressing himself to the wall. He slowly slid down to the floor and pressed his forehead against his knees. He silently begged his heart to slow down, but it wasn’t working.

All Satan did was say that your smile looked nice. Why did you react like…like that? Why were you acting like he had gotten on one knee and asked you to marry him right then and there? You were always so composed, and he had never seen you flustered before in his (admittedly short) life. So, why did that one teensy tiny compliment get such a big reaction out of you?

The door next to Satan creaked open, and he glanced up to see you smiling down at him.

“Hey, Satan,” you said, “Are you sure you don’t want to keep playing?” 

“I’m sure,” he mumbled against his hand.

“Oh, okay. Just let us know if you want to join in, again, alright?”

“I will,” he said.

You flashed him that awful, wonderful grin of yours. “Perfect.” You momentarily disappeared behind Leviathan’s door before peaking your head out. “By the way, I thought it was cute how you wrote…notes about me.” With a flick of your wrist, you revealed an index card—Satan’s index card—in between your index and forefinger. “You know, if you think my eyebrows are charming, you could have just told me.”

Satan scrambled up to his feet and snatched his index card from you. He stuffed it in his back pocket while swearing under his breath. “How did you—”

“It fell out of your sleeve when you left.” You leaned in closer. “Don’t worry. I didn’t let Levi or Mammon read it.”

Satan wanted to die. He managed to stutter out something that could have been akin to a ‘thanks,’ but he knew his words were too twisted around to be understood properly.

You let out a soft giggle before catching Satan’s eye. He stopped breathing for a moment. “Bye, Satan,” you said before closing Leviathan’s door.

Ugh. Satan hid his face in his hands. It was truly unfortunate he was utterly infatuated with you.

[atypicalamortentia]

Their Reactions To You Reading A Spicy Book

Synopsis - The boys reactions to you reading a spicy book.

Warnings - NSFW.

Notes - Characters aged 18+!

Word Count - 1.6k.

{Caffeinate Me}

{TikTok}

SEBASTIAN SALLOW walks in on you reading a spicy book in the Undercroft. At first, he’s completely unaware of the contents of the book, that is, until he takes it off you and begins to read the lewd words aloud. Your face heats up as he reads, his eyes wandering to your form every now and then. He stops mid sentence and stares at you, “you’re seriously reading this when I’m right here?” He asks, folding his arms. 

“I thought you were busy!” You exclaim, throwing your arms up into the air. “Besides, it’s just a book.” 

“An extremely raunchy book by the sounds of it,” Sebastian grins, throwing the book onto the conjured sofa you were sitting on. He practically launches himself onto you, kissing you as if his life depended on it. 

When he pulls away from you, Sebastian is grinning like a mad man. “What?” You ask softly, almost breathless from his kiss. 

“Why don’t we enact some of that book out, hm?” He asks with a hum, fingers trailing down to buttons of your blouse. 

“Sebastian!” You gasp, face blushing red. 

“What? Don’t tell me you’re going shy now,” he grinned. “I liked the part where he spat in her mouth. Are you going to let me spit in your mouth, pretty thing?” With wide eyes you find yourself nodding slowly, watching as Sebastian’s eyes lit up. “Then let’s not waste another moment.” 

Let’s just say, after the intense sex that has Sebastian cumming multiple times, he is more intrigued by the books you read.

OMINIS GAUNT is blind, so obviously he can’t see what it is that you’re reading. Sure, he’s enquired about what you read before but you’ve always said they were cheesy romance novels, something you didn’t think he’d be interested in. It’s when you’re reading one evening, next to him in bed, that you feel it’s probably appropriate to tell him what kind of books you’re actually reading. “Ominis, are you awake?” You asked, gently shaking his shoulder to gain his attention. 

He stirs for a moment before sitting up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and facing his head towards your general direction. “What is it sweetheart?” He asks softly. 

“Wanted to tell you about this book I’m reading,” you say shyly, closing the book and placing it on your lap. Ominis nodded as you began explaining the plot to the book: a woman escapes death and is being stalked by a ‘faceless man’ both in her waking and sleeping life. “And then they have rough sex in the shower.”

Ominis’s eyes widen as the words leave your lips, completely not expecting them to fall so effortlessly. He almost choked on his saliva. He was that surprised. “I’m sorry, what?” He asks, wanting to make sure he had heard you properly. 

“They have sex in the shower,” you repeat, an awkward smile on your face. 

“You read smut?” He asks, eyes still wide as his head continues to look in your general direction. You hum at him in response and watch as his face contorts into a sly smile. “So you don’t read cheesy romance novels?”

“Sometimes!” You defend quickly. “But most of the time, it’s smutty goodness.” 

Ominis’s hand finds yours on your lap and he brings it up to his lips, pressing soft kisses to the back of your hand. “Well, do you want to go and have some shower sex?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. You pinched your legs together, desperate for some sort of friction between your pulsating cunt. “Use your words baby.”

“Yes please baby,” you whisper back almost breathlessly. 

“Come on then,” he smirked, removing his lips from the back of your hand. “And I promise, you won’t ever be able to read that scene again without thinking of me when we’re finished.”

GARRETH WEASLEY likes to read with you. Finds it’s a nice bonding experience for the two of you, but there is something about the most recent book you had picked up that felt different to him. Yes, the author was different, the writing style was different, but there wasn’t really a plot to it… it was just, porn. You couldn’t help but squeeze your legs together as you got up to a particularly raunchy part of the book, all of which didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. He raises an eyebrow and looks away from the sensual book scene to focus on your face, your own eyebrows knitted together as you squirmed uncomfortably. “Are you okay, pet?” Garreth asks you with a sly grin on his lips. 

“Mhm,” you respond, your hum a slightly higher pitch indicating that you were, in fact, lying to him. 

Removing his arm from around your shoulders, Garreth places a hand on your thigh and squeezes slightly. “Getting a little bit worked up there, sweetheart?” He leans in against your ear, whispering seductively. You can’t help but bite your bottom lip, trying to stop a low groan from emitting from your throat. You place the bookmark into the book and close it, turning to Garreth with a look of desperation on your face. “Do you need some help, bunny?” You nod at him and almost immediately, his fingers hook up your skirt and play with the fabric of your underwear. “You’re so wet darling, maybe we should read spicy books together more often if this is where it’ll lead.” 

Garreth climbed on top of you, pressing his lips to your neck and sucking at your flesh. “Don’t tease me,” you whimper softly, arching your back as Garreth’s fingers prod at your entrance. 

“As you wish, pet,” he growled. Let’s just say, if he was going to fuck you that way everytime, you’d ready smutty books together more often.

LEANDER PREWETT isn’t one for reading, so when you read he usually leaves you to your own devices but today was different. You were sitting in the Room Of Requirement with Leander by your side when a soft noise escapes your lips. Your eyes widen and dart towards your boyfriend who is just as surprised as you are at the noise that slipped past your lips. “What was that?” He asks, obviously teasing you. 

“Don’t know,” came your response as you casted your eyes back down to the pages of your book. 

Leander watches as you turn your attention back to the book in your hand, admiring the way your face scrunches up as you mime the words. Leander was interested now. “Whatcha reading?” He asks after a few seconds of watching you. 

“Nothing!” You exclaim, closing the book shut with a slam and turning your attention to your boyfriend. 

Leander smirked at you, “hiding something, are we?” 

“N-No,” you stuttered. 

“Let me just…” Leander yanked the book out of your hand, opening it to the page you were on before scanning the words. His eyes widened at the crude words in front of him. “You’re reading this filth?”

“It’s interesting,” you mumble, trying to reach out to take back the book. 

“Interesting? What’s interesting is that you’re getting horny over words on a page,” Leander snorts.

“I didn’t say I was horny!” 

“Oh sweetie, it’s obvious,” Leander grins down at you, throwing the book across the room and allowing it to land on the floor with a slight thud. “Need some help baby girl?” You bite down on your bottom lip and nod slightly, embarrassed by the whole ordeal. “You just sit back and let me do what I need to do baby, I’ll take care of you better than a stupid book ever could.” 

A low moan leaves your throat as Leander forces your legs open, bunching your skirt up around your hips and tugging your underwear to the side. He made you cum twice on his tongue before he finally fucked you the way you needed it after reading that book.

AMIT THAKKAR is the one who introduced you to spicy books but he didn’t think they’d become a daily occurrence for you. Every book you read outside of classes had some level of smut in them. He even gave you recommendations when you first started reading them, handing you book after book and simply exclaiming, “you’ll love them.”  

Now you were sitting in the library reading a particularly hardcore smutty book that you had discovered on your own when Amit approached you. Peering over your shoulders, he briefly read the erotic scene before looking at you with wide eyes. “What?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow. 

“This is… different,” Amit said, motioning towards the book you were holding. 

“Different? How?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in slight confusion. 

“Knife play, gunplay, blood play,” Amit read aloud, “the list goes on…” 

“What’s wrong with that?” You asked, eyebrow raising as you closed the book slowly. 

“N-Nothing!” Amir stuttered, his face blushing bright red. “I just, I didn’t think you’d be into that.”

“I just love reading smut now, thanks to you,” you reminded him, placing the book on the table. 

“Well if you’re into that, there’s actually something I want to try,” Amit mumbled shyly under his breath. He whipped his wand out of his robes and began to trace your thigh with it, getting closer and closer to your sopping clothed cunt. Your eyes widened when you realised what he meant, a blush spreading across your own cheeks now. “If you’re up for it,” he whispered, kissing your cheek.

“Meet me in the astronomy tower, five minutes,” you giggled. Standing up you rushed to the astronomy tower where, true to his word, Amit met you. He might not have had a knife, or a gun to fulfil your seemingly dark desires, but he had a wand and boy, did you make a mess of it. 

[artist-issues]

I'm curious, what do you think of 1st Corinthians 14:34-35?

What we think of it doesn’t matter; what I think of it matters even less; what it says is what matters. It’s the Word of God.

“The women are to keep silent in the churches, for they are not permitted to speak, but are to subject themselves, just as the Law also says. But if they desire to learn anything, let them ask their own husbands at home, for it is disgraceful for a woman to speak in church.”

Everyone’s got a problem with that because it sounds like the Bible is saying women can’t ever talk in church at all. That’s not what it’s saying, though. You know why? Because this is two verses plucked straight out of a book that has 437 verses in it. That’s like if I read two sentences out of the middle of one of your emails to a close family member and took issue with whatever those two sentences said. Even though the context determines the meaning, so I have no right to get offended when I don’t understand the context. So what’s the context of 1 Corinthians by the time you get to 14:34-35?

The Apostle Paul is writing to a church in the Gentile city of Corinth in AD 53 or 54. That church was a blend of Jewish Christians and Greek Christians. Two completely different cultures were figuring out what the “assembly of the saints,” or “the first church services” were supposed to look like. And to make matters more complicated, they lived in one of the most morally bankrupt cities of that age. Literally, the Corinthian people had a Greek word coined to describe their immorality. So the people who lived there were generally all messed up, in terms of not knowing what was right and what was wrong. That extended to their church services.

The whole context of 1 Corinthians is “what is a church that glorifies the Lord supposed to look like?” The context of the specific chapter, 14, is “what should church assembly that glorifies the Lord look like? What should it not look like?”

How do I know? Read the verses that come before it. At the beginning of the chapter, Paul explains that spiritual gifts are for edifying other people. In fact, everything done in a church service, where the saints are gathered, is not for an individual. It’s for the edification of the whole group. So what might be okay to do in your own home or in private between you and God is not okay, because it’s not mindful, considerate, or edifying to other Christians when you’re in a church service.

Specifically, the Corinthians are all claiming to “prophesy” (get direct revelation from God) and “speak in tongues” (speak in known, but various and foreign, languages) all at once during the service. Everybody’s shouting over each other. Some people are shouting over each other “THUS SAYS THE LORD,” which is a huge deal. Because obviously if you’re going to claim that God has told you something, everyone should shut up, listen, and determine whether or not you’re telling the truth, because what could be a bigger deal than God speaking? But that’s not how the church in Corinth was treating it. Their services were helping nobody, least of all themselves, because it was loud chaotic pandemonium and nobody I was being edified. Everybody was shouting and judging. Including women. By verse 26, Paul is going:

“What is the outcome then, brothers? When you assemble, each one has a psalm, has a teaching, has a revelation, has a tongue, has a translation. Let all things be done for edification. If anyone speaks in a tongue, it should be by two or at the most three, and each in turn, and one must translate; but if there is no translator, he must keep silent in the church, and let him speak to himself and to God. And let two or three prophets speak, and let the others pass judgment. But if a revelation is made to another who is seated, the first one must keep silent. For you can all prophesy one by one, so that all may learn and all may be exhorted. And the spirits of prophets are subject to prophets; for God is not a God of confusion but of peace, as in all the churches of the saints.”

And then he adds,

“The women are to keep silent in the churches, for they are not permitted to speak, but are to subject themselves, just as the Law also says. But if they desire to learn anything, let them ask their own husbands at home, for it is disgraceful for a woman to speak in church. Was it from you that the word of God first went forth? Or has it arrived to you only?

“If anyone thinks he is a prophet or spiritual, let him recognize that the things which I write to you are the Lord’s commandment. But if anyone remains ignorant about this, he is ignored by God.

“Therefore, my brothers, earnestly desire to prophesy, and do not forbid to speak in tongues. But all things must be done properly and in an orderly manner.”

Do you get it? The point is, “what does this specific situation, which is a church service, look like if we’re trying to do things in a God-honoring, orderly manner? Here’s what it does not look like: women can’t just stand up in church and take up the role of judge over men who are shouting that they are speaking from God, and call certain men impostors and certain men prophets.”

The point is not “all women should never ever speak in all church services because that’s disgraceful, they only get to talk to their husbands and get told what to do.”

If it were, then explain to me why, three chapters earlier, when he’s talking about head-coverings, Paul writes that women can prophesy in public?

“But every woman who has her head uncovered while praying or prophesying, shames her head, for she is one and the same as the woman whose head is shaved.”

(if you want to talk about why the heck a woman has to have her head covered when she prophesies, blah blah blah, let’s talk about that too, but the answer’s going to be the same: context determines meaning, meaning is correct interpretation, etc.)

Additionally, why would Paul be commending the women in the church who have taught their sons and grandsons? How can they teach if they’re never allowed to talk in church, or if their only role in all contexts is “shut up and learn?”

Because that’s not their only biblical role. And that’s not what Paul was saying. Paul was saying, “in this specific context, here’s how a woman (among all the other people groups I’m also addressing) should conduct herself when the goal is to edify the believers in a church service, and not let anything get in the way of that goal.”

Now.

Guess what?

If the Bible did say, “all women shut up and listen all the time, let the men do the talking,” would you listen to it?

You, reading this. Would you have a problem with it? If that’s what God Sid to do, would you sit in judgement over God and say, “no, infinite Creator of all matter and life, You’re mistaken about how You should be worshipped and what these little creatures You made are for, let me correct and educate You with the judgement coming out of the three-pound lump of gray matter, which You designed and graciously allowed me to have in the first place, sitting inside my skull. Let me, the creature, tell You, the Creator, where you’re wrong and what ‘Being God’ should be like.”

I hope not. But I was super convicted reading this chapter for the first time and finding myself a) misunderstanding it and then b) having the appalling gall and arrogance to be outraged by it.

Who in the world am I? Who am I to be outraged, if God did say, “be quiet and spend your life listening to men?” If that were what He was saying, my response should be, “Yes, Lord.”

Why are we so concerned about being allowed to speak? What do we have to say that’s so great, that’s so necessary, that’s so devastating to have “removed” from us, anyway? Why do we care so much about being heard? Is it because we have something to say that could really help men, in the church services? Oh, really? And if we women don’t say it, God won’t edify the men? He’ll be handicapped because we were muzzled?

What’s so offensive about being told to stop talking and ask questions to learn, anyway? Why is that so infuriating, to us? We’re fools. The whole point of the Gospel is, “He (Jesus) must increase; I must decrease.” The best place in the world to be is at the feet of Jesus, learning. Humble. Not producing anything of ourselves, but absorbing everything He has to teach us. Who cares if it’s our husbands He plans to do that through? Who cares if we can’t teach men in church? What, we think God can’t handle that? We think He can’t teach them His own way, that His plan was flawed, that they’re “missing out” because God dropped the ball by telling us not to stand up in service and disrupt everything with this great ‘word’ we have, that nobody else has?

Ugh. God forgive me for ever even approaching a mindset that thinks I have something to say, and if I don’t say it, He won’t be able to accomplish His will. God forgive me for ever thinking my Western modern culture knows better than His divine plan. He designed human beings and men and women and what would best serve us before “culture” or “social frameworks” were ever even conceived of.

We all need to be a lot more humble. Me first.

I would encourage you to test what I said. If you read this, you should spend an equal amount of time studying the Bible for yourself and seeing if I was right, and if that’s really what God said and meant, based on the context, which determines meaning, because there is such a thing as “correct and incorrect interpretation” when the God of the universe meant something by what He said. And I could’ve gotten it wrong. And you don’t want to get it wrong.

[tumbleweed-run]

Living

Kinktober Day 28 Body Worship TW negative self image/self esteem issues

You stare into the mirror and sigh at the reflection looking back. She’s you, that’s for sure, but she isn’t the you you were several months ago. There a many yous scattered throughout your past but this change seems to bother you more for whatever reason. Possibly because this is the first time you’ve noticed the transition. There was a you before the nautaloid as well but she disappeared so quickly, the moment that the tadpole crawled into your eye. 

This new you has a very attentive boyfriend who cooks the most delicious homecooked meals. She likes laying in bed late into the morning reading books just because she can. She spends many evenings in restaurants being served food made by the best cooks in Waterdeep. She isn’t fighting for her life anymore and because of that her, your, body has changed. 

That you that existed in tandem with the tadpole died with the elder brain. She was a fierce warrior, pushing her body and mind far past their limits in every way. Places that had been hard bone and sharp angles were now covered in soft flesh. Your stomach curves softly out instead of sinking in further with each meal divided into six (then seven, then nine, and so on) portions to provide for everyone in camp.

Gale hasn't breathed a word about this new body. He wouldn’t be so crass as to comment on your body like that, and yet you still worry. The you he fell in love with was that warrior, not this new person. You’re very different both physically and mentally from the person he asked to marry him.

“You look unhappy,” Gale says behind you, startling you. He sounds bothered. 

You shrug and turn away from the mirror, searching the room with your eyes for your robe. Gale gets to it first and holds it up, making it easier for you to slide into it. It’s easier not to think of these things while covered up. 

“I’m just thinking,” you answer finally.

“About?” Gale prompts, his eyebrows are creased in concern. You consider pulling him down to press a kiss there, to smooth them, but refrain. Instead you make your way to the door. 

“How different everything is,” it’s another careful answer, neither truthful nor untruthful. 

Gale follows you from the bathroom and into the hall, keeping a distance between the two of you. 

“That makes you unhappy?” He sounds more concerned, and you can’t help but realize maybe there are changes to this new, not-tadpole, not-Mystra, Gale that keep him up at night, too. 

You sigh, heading towards the bedroom. You want to curl up in the soft sheets and duvet and forget all of this. “I’m happy with our life,” you reassure him as you push open the door. 

Gale follows you into the room but moves to sit on the bed as you wander over to the dresser to find your night clothes. “Then what is it?” he asks. “This isn’t the first time I’ve found you frowning lately. If something is bothering you, I want to know. I can help.” He sounds so earnest in his belief that he can make everything better for you that you can’t help but smile. 

“You can’t make this better,” you find yourself loathe to admit this, and you turn to look at him, “I just have to get used to it.”

Gale shifts on the bed, turning towards you. “No,” he insists, “you shouldn’t get used to things that bother you.”

“Gale, you can’t fix this,” you say finally, gesturing vaguely to your body, voice louder than you’d meant it to be. You wince afterward. 

Gale rises to stand all of a sudden, face pulled together in confusion. “I need you to be more specific about what ‘this’ is,” he says. 

“Me,” your voice is softer this time as you admit it. 

“There’s nothing to fix about you,” he says even as you watch a slow comprehension crawl across his face.

“I’m different than I was when you met me. I’m different than I was before the nautiloid even,” you try and explain.

Gale snorts a laugh. “We all are. None of us who went through that are the same,” he says, taking a step towards you, reaching out as if to pull you to him. But then he stops abruptly. You watch the rest of your meaning dawns on him. You look down at your feet but not before you see an unpleasant look pass across his face. 

“Unless you’re not speaking solely about our personalities,” his words are carefully measured. 

You nod. Even though you can feel that he’s growing annoyed, you’ve always done your best not to lie to him. You won't start now.

Gale closes the distance between the two of you and takes your chin in his hand, pushing it up so you look at him. “What do you mean?”

You sigh, eyes darting away from his. “I don’t look the same,” you mumble. 

Despite your mumbled words, Gale has clearly heard them. His fingers twitch against your jaw as if to resist gripping you tighter. “Of course not,” his voice still sounds very controlled. 

You risk looking at him, and you find his face is nearly blank. His eyes aren’t, though. He seems angry. You pull away, but he catches the tie of your robe before you can get too far and holds you in place. 

“Let me wallow in my self-loathing,” you say, still trying to step away, “I’ll be more cheerful in the morning.”

 Another snort, this one sounds less amused. “You might be in the morning, but this isn’t the first time I've caught these looks on your face,” he insists. Gently, he moves his hand to tug the knot you’ve tied loose. He allows it to drop, and your robe falls open. 

“I love this body,” Gale says as he gently pushes the fabric from your shoulders. Your robe pools to the floor, leaving you standing naked once more. 

He leans down to you and presses a kiss to your lips and lingers there until you return it. Gale then leans in and kisses you with intensity until you can barely breathe. “I love these lips,” he says when he finally pulls away. “And not just for how they look wrapped around my cock,” he grins wickedly, “but for every thoughtful word, for every time you tell me you love me.”

He trails his kisses off and down your neck. You gasp when you feel him pull the skin he finds there into his teeth. He sucks for a moment and you realize he’s deliberately leaving a mark. After a moment, he seems satisfied and allows his lips to trail to your shoulders. 

“I love these because you readily accept the weight of the world onto them,” he kisses across your collarbone to your other shoulder, “time and time again.”

Gale takes hold of your hand and raises your arm, kissing a path towards your hand. He stops briefly in the bend of your elbow and teases his tongue against it forcing a choked laugh from you. You feel his lips curl, pleased with himself, before he continues. “I love watching you page through books or pen letters to our friends,” he says before gently pressing a kiss to the tip of each of your fingers.

“Not just when I wrap them around your cock?” You tease, voice rough for some reason. 

Gale grins and nips at the pad of your thumb before returning his lips to your collarbone. “I won’t lie. I’m very fond of watching when they do that.”

He begins kissing lower. Slowly, Gale trails his kisses back and forth across the skin of your chest. You realize you’re holding your breath by the time he finally gets to your breasts. Somehow, he manages to cover every inch of your breasts before pressing a kiss to each of your nipples. “I love these,” he grins up at you, “for all the dirty reasons you’re thinking.” 

He pulls the nipple in front of him into his mouth, and you gasp, back arching to him. Gale takes his time lavishing your nipples until you’re moaning, hand holding onto his shoulders for stability. He once again presses a quick kiss to both of your nipples before beginning to kiss downward. 

He drops to his knees in order to more easily reach your skin. As he trails his lips across the skin of your stomach, you try not to squirm. Just as with your breasts, Gale works to ensure that his lips have kissed every piece of skin. “I love that you go to bed full every night, that I no longer fall asleep listening to the sound of your hunger pangs.”

Gale sounds particularly upset now.

“Gale,” you say for lack of something else. You smooth your hands through his hair. 

“I tried hard to keep all of you fed,” Gale admits, still sounding sad, “but there wasn’t enough to fill all of you, and you were always offering to feed Astarion when the game was scarce. I tried to make sure you had what you needed to keep well.”

Your eyes water as you remember all of those bits of food Gale snuck into your hand while adventuring. You’d originally dismissed it as just part of his generosity and then assumed it was a flirtation thing. You also remembered Gale standing over the food stockpiles each night, mumbling things to himself. You realize now he’d been worrying about how to make each meal. 

“You did better than any of us could have,” you assure him, still stroking his hair. 

Gale gives a little shrug but resumes his kisses. He presses a kiss very deliberately very low on your stomach, below the curve and where you can’t see. 

“And I love this because one day you’ll grow our children in this space,” he says it reverently. 

A smile tugs at your lips, “children?” you tease. 

“As many as you want,” Gale says, looking up at you with an earnest expression of adoration. 

His lips begin working lower until he presses a rather chaste kiss against the seam of your cunt. “I love this,” is all he says there. 

You can’t help but laugh.

You feel Gale’s grin once again against your skin. He abandons the space he’d been, and you pout even though he won't see it. He begins a path down one of your legs, and you shift your weight, squirming. You look down and watch him get lower, sliding his body back so he can reach each spot more easily. 

By the time his lips get to the top of your feet, he’s bent over, prostrate on the ground before you. Your breath catches at the image as he worships you.

“I love every inch of you,” He says loud enough you can hear even though he’s nearly speaking to the ground. 

You’d like to say you sunk to your knees gracefully, but the sound of your knees hitting the ground tells a different story. You at least manage to keep yourself from landing on Gale. Grasping at his shoulders, you tug him up, immediately diving for his lips. Gale returns your kisses, shifting until he can grasp the sides of your face. 

You both remain like that on the floor for several minutes until suddenly, it’s not close enough. You grab at his clothes, tugging until he gets the idea. The two of you are uncoordinated as you strip him. Several moments cause you both to laugh- leaning against one another for support. 

Once Gale is naked, you crawl into his lap, grasping for his cock blindly. He gasps once you wrap your hand around it. He’s hard. You stroke him, thumb smearing against the bead of cum welling at the tip. You work it as it forms down along his shaft, providing lube for you to move with. 

He’s panting, watching as your hand works him. “I do love this,” he gasps at a point, drawing out your smile once more. 

You grow impatient and pull your hand away, quickly moving your body up over it. You rock against it for a moment, eyes slipping closed as the motion grinds his shaft against your clit. Gale’s hands grasp your hips and lift you up enough to shift so his cock is now pressed against your entrance. He gently guides you down it until he’s buried deep inside of you. 

You both freeze. The only sound in the room is that of your breathing. 

“You are perfect,” Gale insists as he thrusts up into you. 

You try to lean further into him. You wish to bury your head in his shoulder and hide your face. Gale won’t let you, instead, he keeps you far enough away that he can watch your face. When you finally gather up enough courage to look into his eyes, they’re so filled with love and adoration that you look away almost immediately. 

“You’re perfect and I love you,” Gale repeats around his moans. 

You finally look up again and keep your eyes locked this time, hoping you can pour even a fraction of your own devotion to him into the look. Gale’s thrusts become erratic, hip rolling with each thrust. 

You reach down and press your fingers against your clit, rubbing as he fucks you. Gale’s eyes are drawn downward now, watching as you touch yourself. “Shit,” he gasps, nearly slamming up into you.

You allow your eyes to slip closed and focus on every sensation. The way his cock feels deep inside of you, the warmth of his body, the sound of your fingers against the slickness of your arousal. You allow your world to focus down to just this, just now, the joy that this new body gets to experience. The bliss that no you before had ever dreamt of. You come quietly, only a little noise pulled from your throat. 

Gale takes that as his sign to pull you even tighter against him, barely pulling out of you with each thrust. He moves faster, hips jerking against yours. Then he freezes, eyes pinched shut, and every muscle of his body tight as he comes. He pants our your name as he keeps you flush against him, spilling deep inside of you. 

You both remain like that until your joints begin to ache. “Ow,” you mumble as you slowly move your legs. 

Gale groans as he, too, shifts. “Maybe we should have done that on the bed,” he chuckles.

“I don’t mind being uncomfortable sometimes,” you say, sliding from his lap. 

You can’t help but glance down at your body as you stand. Your original feelings haven't changed, and its unlikely too overnight. But you realize maybe this you is so different from the last you. Not because she’s fighting for her life, but because she’s living it.