#the never-ending need to remind people of discourse they want to move away from

[butwhatifidothis]

It really is strange how Edelstans simultaneously dig hard into people that don't agree with their specific interpretation of 3H to the point of being happy they manage to drive those people away... and be so upset and baffled that people become generally disinterested/actively hostile towards 3H content.

If folks get repeatedly driven out of a fandom, and that group of people repeatedly calls anyone who disagrees with their specific interpretation of 3H stupid/illiterate/"acting in bad faith"/sexist/racist/homophobic/etc., and it is repeatedly done by a group of people who insist that 3H's fandom problem is a "both sides" thing, with all of this being dragged into spaces that have nothing to do with 3H, well... obviously people are then going to start to dislike interacting with either 3H in general or its fandom in particular?

Edelstans are the ones spreading the idea that 3H's fandom in totality is shit. They keep trying to make their hands look cleaner than they are by claiming that everyone else's hands are just dirty as/even dirtier than theirs. Of course people who are unaware of everything are going to then assume that everyone's hands are dirty, thus making people not exactly want to shake hands with anyone.

Like, really now. What did they think was going to happen when they directly go after fanartists/fanfic writers who create/say things that go against the Approved Edelstan Status Quo, to the point that a non-zero amount of these creators just up and leave social media entirely? Or after they nitpick every single Disapproved Post and then lie about the post's OP? Or after it becomes a consistent pattern that people who even remotely disagree with Edelstans' opinions are always, without fail, buried with insulting and harassing anons? Or after they're shown time and time again to defend their worst actors with "well their/our victims deserved it because they said a 3H opinion we didn't agree with"? Or when they say that everyone does this shit in 3H's fandom except for them (which is either not believed because it's demonstrably untrue or is actually believed and now those people think the overwhelming majority of 3H's fandom is filled with shit)? Or when they drag 3H discourse into literally actually everything no matter how unrelated?

That with less fandom creators within the fandom space they'd get more content? That harassing and insulting people and accusing them of being this-and-that bigot is going to magically "correct" their minds into seeing The One Truth about 3H? That people are going to just look over all the shit they did just because they allocate the blame of their action on all of 3H's fandom? That people would like 3H more if they constantly remind people of the inarguable worst thing to come from 3H? That this would help 3H's general perception?

Fuckin' no, of course that's just going to make everyone fuck off from 3H. And would you look at that, a shit ton of people have fucked off from 3H since everything has been swept under a "well it'sth a bolth thides ithue tho what can ya do?" rug. And it's been swept under that rug by pretty much the only people who are pulling this shit, who then get shocked - utterly gobsmacked! - that that made them look bad too. That crying "both sides!" included themselves too and not just the people they've been harassing. That saying that the entire fandom is bad everywhere made the entire fandom look bad everywhere.

If Edelstans are really so upset that no one talks about 3H positively anymore, then maybe they should stop being the reason no one likes 3H anymore. Just a thought

[gascon-en-exil]

There have been some people speculating on what a 3H remake would be and what do they want fixed from the original which..I mean it's not been 5 years yet and Fodlan fatigue sure hasn't gone away. But it got me thinking, how can a game like 3H, which people have different interpretations of what's canon and what's not, be remade and not piss everyone off? It feels like a catch 22.

I made a joke about exactly that in the discourse video. I believe that for the graphic I attached a sticker to a box art saying "Now With Even More Noncommittal Nonsense!", because that's the only thing IS/KT would ever add to a hypothetical remaster/remake. Looking at Heroes and Engage, the only part of FE16 they care to emphasize is the academy phase - skirting around Part 2 or any mention of the actual plot wherever possible. Or you don't even need to look that far: the Hopes routes have no endings because the developers didn't want to invalidate players projecting onto what they do via Byleth in Houses.

It reminds me very much of how the game was marketed pre-release; up until the E3 trailer a month and a half before it came out, all we saw of Houses was the academy. There was no indication of what the plot even was or any antagonists beyond brief intros of the Flame Emperor, Death Knight, and some of the Agarthans. There was zero indication that the female lead was the main antagonist driving most of the plot, or that the game was about taking sides in a continental war up until the June trailer dropped the post-timeskip designs and the Gronder Field rematch. Contrast this with Fates frontloading the knowledge of the Hoshido vs. Nohr conflict (and explicitly spelling it out in Engage), or even with Engage telling us right from the start that it's going to be another hero vs. dark dragon...and even then, I still say that FE17 has a more unexpected plot than almost any other game in the series because it's really not a war story.

Anyway, official policy on Fódlan media very much seems to be to never, ever take a side because it might piss off a faction of the playerbase. That's why I'd expect only minor updates and changes to a remaster, if the game ever got one. Slightly better graphics, shorter load times...that kind of thing. Not that I'd look for such a thing anytime soon - certainly not until we've moved onto the next console after the Switch.

[hes-writer]

drivers’ license

Summary: harry teaches y/n how to drive

Warnings: angst, a little bit of fluff

Word Count: 1805 words

A/N: the ‘blonde girl’ has no face claim.

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MASTERLIST

_____

There were many milestones that Y/N strived to remember; things that she wanted to embed in her memory because each fleeting moment was a few seconds away from being lost.  She was afraid that in a blink of an eye; everything would disappear, that she wouldn’t even remember what had been forgotten.

But she would never forget him. Harry. The best friend who taught her how to drive with the utmost patience, calm correction of her mistakes and gentle voice to ease her worry as soon as the shift went from ‘P’ to ‘D’.  He was there with precise instruction, detailing each rule and advice that would help her acquire her drivers’ license.  He was tolerant of her constant ability to doubt herself, always assuring Y/N that she could do it.

It was silly why Y/N was scared of driving.  It was because it felt so grown up, so adult-like and it bought a sense of responsibility.  It meant fully committing to adulthood.  There was a shift that everything was changing.  And by that, she meant everything.

.

.

.

It seemed like a distant memory now.

Y/N took the leap of faith to start learning how to drive, trusting him to teach her the ways. Harry was her light in a dark day.  His smile was bright enough for her to admit that through the haze of her nervousness; it wasn’t just caused by her fear of handling and operating a vehicle.

It also had to do with the way Y/N’s stomach fluttered with butterflies when she had parked in an empty lot, Harry sitting on the passenger’s seat as they talked to each other about anything and everything their minds could conjure up at that very moment. No filter.

How Harry enthusiastically shared his excitement about Y/N’s newfound ability to drive to and fro from her apartment to his place.  They would be able to go on drives on the coast with nostalgic songs blasting on the radio, screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs where no one would hear them.  The wind sifting through his hair to which she commented on maybe getting it snipped; it was why Harry opted to not trust Y/N with scissors anymore after a close-call with the sharp tool.  She didn’t know why he had decided to trust her with it in the first place--she was a clumsy one.

Yet Harry continued to spend each and every second of his free time with her, even when he was booked to the hilt with mandatory meetings and unplanned fan encounters, Y/N stood by his side as an unofficial photographer.  The dopey grin on her face must’ve been permanent every time that she was around him.  Sometimes she looked through the screen of the phone and wondered just how much she would break if Harry wasn’t around in her life and all she had to remember him by was the captured portrait of his kind aura leaking through the device; almost as if he was there right beside her because Y/N seemed to label her best memories with him around.

Harry was it for her.  Even if her feelings were not mutual, Y/N would take being his closest friend over being a stranger because at least she was near him.  Luckily, Harry returned her affection.  Though, it was humiliating to vouch for a relationship that would have to go through troughs and trenches in order to be rendered successful.  It seemed impossible with her stoic life compared to his fast-paced, always moving, always travelling situation.

Y/N was willing to work for it.  If she were to make a list of things she wanted most, it would be the unconditional love from the one that meant the most to her.  Harry was exactly what she wanted--what she needed.  Y/N didn’t know what she did in her past life or even now that caused the universe to gift her with a presence as charming and graceful as his but she would do it every day if it meant coming home to his warm embrace.

But Harry wasn’t so keen on commitment.  There was no denying that his thorough discourse of relationships hindered his ability to fully trust any future partners and Y/N understood that.  The distance gets to peoples’ heads, even his, admittedly.  Loneliness seeps through his fingers, directing his body to strangely familiar bodies. Ones whom he was not currently committed to. Wandering hands.

Despite that, Y/N knew that Harry was a good person.  Some may call her a fool for giving him a chance but he truly was a genuine guy.  She had seen it when he was coddled up, blankets bunched all the way to his chin, only showcasing his angelic face.  The crease of his brows free from any worries.  He was simply him.  She had seen him when he was the most vulnerable.

Harry was a romantic person.  He loved to love.  He adored the concept of having someone behind him, beside him and in front of him at all times to catch him when he fell, to support him in any new journeys and to lead him when he was lost.  Y/N could understand his shortcomings, aiming to better the other person instead of putting them down.  She wanted a dialogic approach instead of having a conversation where all she pointed out was his bad qualities.

What she couldn’t comprehend was how easily he had lied to her.

She wasn’t asking for much; Y/N promised to wait for him until he was ready. Until his previous baggage was deemed easy enough to carry, or at least when Harry was able to talk about it without anointing skepticism to his actions.  Though, Harry had blatantly disregarded her purity to be patient towards him.  Basically, he had told her that he was not ready for a relationship yet here he was now, holding hands with another girl.  The blonde woman had caused insecurities to sprout from deep within her since Harry kept citing her age and maturity, adding that she was ‘different’ from the rest as if he hadn’t mentioned it previously.

.

.

.

Y/N would ask herself from time to time; when a tree falls in a forest, does it make a sound?

She compared it to the times’ Harry’s voice cracked in the middle of singing songs that embedded itself in her memory and the way his ears tinted a blush pink even under the night sky after Y/N quickly gave a glance in his direction.  She reminisced about the times when he would explain any ideas he had about new songs, thoroughly immersing not only himself but her as well, in his art.  He would sometimes stop midway as if lost in thought when really he was just mesmerized by the slope of her nose and the pucker of her lips.

He was so passionate.  So indulged and fervent in making sure everything he did was one-hundred percent, authentically him.  Harry spoke with grit when he was overly zealous and he tended with a soft voice when he felt vulnerable.

It was glaringly loud; Y/N could hear him everywhere she went.  But now that he was gone—out of reach—did those conversations ever really happen?  Was she even present when Harry shyly played a song he had been working on for her, singing stripped with just his raspy voice, serenading her with a tune describing how much gratitude he felt that she was present in his life.  He appreciated her so much for accepting him even when the world criticized his every action. For being there when he seemingly felt lonely.

.

.

.

Life itself was funny to her.

Sometimes Y/N wondered how she could let herself be vulnerable with somebody else other than herself.  It was plastered everywhere—love never lasts.  Relationships come and go, people leave and never return, friends, drift apart and detaching from oneself was even possible.  It was practically the motto of anyone searching for love—looking for a sense of comfort and belonging, yet she was practically crushed by the overwhelming reality that it may never happen.

She hated the way her heart longed for him to be near as if when he was too far away it ached in pain.  Y/N disliked the feeling of being out of place because where she truly belonged was in his arms.  Harry’s nose nuzzled at the top of her head, inhaling her scent as though it was the last time he would hold her—for a while at least.

And it really was because the next day he had left to catch a flight a mere continent away.

____

The night before was special to Y/N. Harry left with a promise of ‘forever’ and that he would return straight to her after his tour ends.  It was a dainty promise but Y/N chose to believe him because it was Harry and he never strayed from his words.

He promised to return and Y/N had sworn to wait for him. They both agreed, after admitting their feelings the night before he left, that a long-distance relationship was not how either of them wanted to begin.  Although their friendship had lasted years prior to finding out the bubbling flame between them, crossing the line as seamlessly as possible was the gateway to a healthy relationship.

Y/N could hardly wait for his return now that she was driving alone to where she needed to be.  Harry was always at the back of her mind no matter how hard she tried to distract herself.  He was attached to the episodic memory of Y/N successfully learning how to drive; that was something she couldn’t really forget.

.

.

.

Y/N unlocked the car doors, breathing deeply as soon as she was situated on the driver’s seat. The beeping of the car ringing in her ears until she was reminded to close the car door shut.

She blinked her lids tightly, feeling salty tears pooling at her waterline.  It was a sad excuse of trying to not start sobbing right then and there but she was successful.

Starting the engine, Y/N sniffled as she adjusted her mirror, making sure that she could see through them before driving off. As she focused her eyes on the road, Harry’s voice repeated in her head.

She didn’t know where she was going. Y /N didn’t really have a destination to arrive to because her brain was filled with images of Harry and her.  Kissing, hugging, looking at each other as if nobody else in the mattered; not even Y/N.

And it hurt a lot because she kept her promise of waiting for him to return but it seemed like he had no trouble filling the hole in his heart, unlike her.

He moved on.

_____

[harryspet]

secret service | bucky barnes

[Warnings] secret service!bucky x reader, reader is vp’s daughter, bodyguard!bucky, agegap, noncon/dubcon sex, brat tamer bucky, dominant x submissive, rough sex (wear protection kids!!)

A/N: this is for @nsfwsebbie​ ‘s dream fic challenge. Happy b-day sab! this is @mypoisonedvine​ ‘s dream fic and the prompt was “I would love anything dark bucky, especially if he starts out all nice and stuff but then he's all manipulative and it gets worse and worse until we're in heavy dub con/non con territory”. hope you enjoy bb!

In which a political trip to London allows you to be reunited with your favorite secret service member, Bucky Barnes. 

taglist: @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckybarney @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything​ @saharzek​ @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet​ @what-is-your-wish​ @marvelslut-musicalnerd​ @brattypeony​ @hermayone​ @buckysugar​ @mandiiblanche​ @cherienymphe​

word count: 3.9k 

main masterlist

“You’ll need to be on your best behavior this weekend. We can’t have an incident like last year.”

You didn’t meet your mother’s eyes as you looked out the window of the private plane. Surprising to most, this time you spent watching her read her millions of paperwork was the most time you spent with her. Your mother cared for you but she was not warm. You didn’t believe a warm person could make it so high in the government. Being the daughter of the Vice President, you saw the kinds of dirty, manipulative politics that went on behind the scene. 

You wanted little part of it but, here you were, about to land in London for an important public event. 

“Y/N? Are you listening?” She continued to talk despite your lack of an answer, “That means you tell your agents when you’re going somewhere. I don’t care if you’re only walking down the hall to the ice machine, you tell them. You’ve known this since you were a little girl, I don’t know why you always give me a hard time.”

“I’m already here alone, Mom. Must you torture me further by suffocating me?”

“I know you must think it’s fun to rendezvous with some foreign prince but I must ask you to keep your legs closed for this trip and listen to your security.”

Your mouth parted. She thought of you as some whore but the truth was that you were far from the persona she forced upon you, “You don’t know me at all. And Alden isn’t a prince, his father is a prince. He’s just a duke,” You faked a smile and she scowled at you. 

You weren’t expecting her next words, “I have a surprise for you when we land.”

You paused for a moment, trying to read her face. She was perfect at disguising her true emotions and, as her daughter, the thought that you didn’t really know your mother was saddening, “A surprise? I thought you were lecturing me.”

“You won’t listen unless I bribe you, Y/N,” Just as the words left her mouth, the pilot spoke on the intercom. The plane was beginning its descent and in a moment you’d be landing. One of your mother's assistants had to approve all your outfits for this trip. After some discourse, you decided on a light pink dress for your arrival look. It hugged your curves the way you liked but it reached down to your knees modestly as your mother preferred. 

When you were finally stepping down the stairs to the plane, watching your mother wave to the press, and the diplomats ready to greet her, you realized what your surprise was. Two sleek, black cars waited at the end of the red carpet and the sight of the man standing in front of the second one made your heart race. 

It took everything in you not to run to him. His dark hair was styled neatly, his arms folded over his nicely pressed black suit and a soft look of happiness was displayed on his strong face. He was just like you remembered him, the earpiece in his ear and the gold pin on his lapel reminded you of his position. 

“This is my surprise?” Your mother turned to you with a grin. 

“I know how much you like Agent Barnes, maybe you’ll actually listen to him. You’re going straight to your hotel room, I will see you later tonight.”

“Of course, my beloved mother.  Like all teenagers, I love sitting in my hotel room and doing nothing while I’m on a trip.”

You watched your mother walk away from you, going to the first car while you approached the second car. Your speed picked up as you neared him. He opened the door for you, winking, “Girl Scout is in the Stage Coach. I repeat, Girl Scout is in the Stage Coach.”

Everyone the secret service protected had a codename. You’d been a proud girl scout for most of elementary school and then middle school when your mother went from Senator to Vice President. The name stuck and you thought it was annoying now that you’d grown out of that phase but you liked the name on his lips. 

As you carefully slipped inside the car, you were beaming and, as Bucky slipped in beside you, you had to wait to pounce. You attacked him with a hug as soon as the doors closed and none of the crowd could see you through the tinted windows. You felt his hand against your back, hugging you tightly and it was then that you realized how touch starved you had been. 

Everyone you came in contact had to go through your guards and that was often an intimidating process for most guys. Even though you had started college, you decided to avoid boys altogether because of this. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Your eyes were wide even as you pulled away from him, “How?”

Bucky gave you a soft smile, “Well I can’t tell you all the details since they’re top secret but, let’s say, my mission didn’t take as long as predicted.”

Your eyes narrowed at him in curiosity, “So you killed the bad guys and they let you come back to play babysitter?”

Bucky shook his head, giving you an amused look, “So crass. I see nothing has changed,” He leaned over and, for the briefest second, you thought his face was leaning into yours. Instead, he had reached over to grab your seatbelt as he safely secured it around your waist. Your cheeks heated up and you found yourself looking into the rearview mirror where you could see the two agents sitting in the front seat, “I apologize for being gone so long.”

“You didn’t miss much,” You said to console him, “Just senior year which was nothing special.”

Seeing him now made you think about meeting him those six years ago. He was so young then, just having served in the Army, but somehow aging had made him look even better. You had a feeling he was just as king and loyal as before. You were just a middle schooler at the time, hormonal, and constantly fighting with your parents about your lack of freedom. Maybe you hadn’t changed much either. 

You watched him fasten his own seatbelt as the car began to take off, “Nothing special, hmm?” He cocked his eyebrow, “What about prom? Graduation?”

“Oh, it was effectively ruined by my arch-nemesis. He stole my spot as Salutatorian, my prom date wouldn’t stop talking to him about nanotech for the entire evening, and guess who got into Stanford for early admission just like yours truly?”

“Little Peter Parker?” Bucky chuckled. 

“He’s not so little anymore,” You crossed your arms, pouting, “He’s only jealous that my mother was chosen as Vice President and his uncle was chosen for the lousy Secretary of Labor position.”

“Seems he must like you a lot to follow you to Stanford. To move all the way across the country,” You gave him an incredulous look, “C’mon, princess, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“Of course I’ve noticed,” You rushed out your words, trying to ignore that feeling you got when he called you princess. If anyone else had said that, you’d probably feel disgusted but … you couldn’t help but think that term of endearment had changed its meaning. The truth was that you never thought Peter liked you and now you were worrying that your lack of social awareness had caused you to ignore the warning signs, “The last person I want to talk about is Peter Parker, Bucky.”

“Fine,” He folded his hands in front of him, sighing. 

“Besides,” You side-eyed him mischievously, “I have someone far more important who feigns for my attention.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky leaned in. 

“A duke,” You finished.

Bucky’s face seemed to fall, “I can’t imagine you as a duchess,” You couldn’t imagine yourself as one either but you liked the excitement that Alden brought you, “And your mother informed me of what happened last year. I’ll probably lose my job if something like that occurs again.”

“You’d tattle on me? I thought we were friends, Bucky.”

“That was when you were a harmless little girl. Now, you’re …” His eyes seemed to roam over your face then they fell to your neck but they moved back to your eyes before they could travel any lower, “You’re going to make this hard on me, aren’t you?”

You reached out to tap his cheek playfully and smirked, “I missed you.”

+

You weren’t sure exactly what holier-than-thou charity that these rich people had gathered in ball gowns to donate to. It was probably a minuscule fraction of their wealth and they most likely were only here to keep up appearances. Still, you enjoyed a chance to dress up. 

You moved through the historical museum in a red ball gown, admiring all the expensive artifacts, as Bucky escorted you. You expected your mother to be with you during the event she’d forced you to attend but it seemed that she was once again too busy. You would’ve felt lonely if Bucky hadn’t been there. The other agents kept their distance, wearing tuxedos to blend into the rest of the crowd as they watched you from a distance. 

Every now and then your conversation with Bucky would be interrupted by a message coming through his squiggly earpiece. 

He looked quite handsome tonight and by the outline of his biceps against the fabric of his tuxedo jacket, you could tell he had bulked up over the last year. 

“Madam Vice President had a run-in with the Prime Minister's wife. Turns out they’ve been dying to talk. She’ll meet you once the auction begins.”

“Oh, an auction, is that what this is? What endangered species are we saving tonight?”

“Funny,” Bucky added sarcastically, “... I don’t see your prince around. Perhaps he found another famous daughter to entertain for the night.”

You gave him a venomous look, “That cannot be possible when I look like this,” You emphasized your glamorous look that had taken nearly five hours to get on, “Now, would you please escort me to my table? I’m sure he’ll come and find me once you’re not standing beside me like a big tree.”

The truth was that you had no idea if Alden even remembered you from last year. He did make out with you but who knows how many famous daughters he had tried to entertain before. You hated how right Bucky seemed. 

Bucky didn’t add anything to your harsh words as he escorted you into a large ballroom. It was so elegantly decorated that the room smelled like money. Blue stripes of light wavered through the room making it feel like you were in the middle of the ocean. You couldn’t help that the feeling of drowning that she experienced was a bad touch on the organizer's part. 

Of course, your mother’s table was right near the front of the room. As Bucky pulled back the white chair, you took a seat, not meeting his eyes, “You’re dismissed, Mr. Barnes,” You spoke over your shoulder. 

To your surprise, he leaned down to whisper into your ear, “You cause any problems tonight, princess, and you deal with me.”

Your mouth pinched into a thin line as you were left speechless. When you looked back, he was already walking away, taking his position by the far wall. You looked away quickly, mentally cursing. So much for having the upper-hand. You slouched in your seat, looking around the hall which was now flooding with people. 

A few people you vaguely remembered having a conversation with approached you to talk. Hollywood celebrities, European politicians, and even famous designers hoping to get you to wear some of their designs. Lately, the paparazzi loved to follow you as you walked to class and gossip sites loved to talk about what you wore. 

Everyone was so busy trying to get your attention that you hadn’t noticed someone slip in the seat beside you, “You look like you need something to drink,” You were a bit startled but you immediately recognized his voice. It seemed a year had made him more handsome as well. With one hand he grabbed yours and kissed it and with the other he handed you a glass of champagne. 

“Your grace,” You greeted him, accepting the glass. You had almost forgotten that you could legally drink here. Despite that, you knew it would be improper to your mother. That’s why you took a sip, “Thank you so much-” You winced at the bitter taste but continued to sip. 

The young duke was tall and red-headed, his face peppered with adorable freckles. His royal get-up was even more attractive. 

You looked back at Bucky who was staring intently, “Is a night of fun in the cards for us?” You turned back to the Prince. 

“I’m not supposed to rendezvous with royalty anymore. My Mom was not happy with me.”

He leaned back casually in his chair, his leisurely nature was surprising to you, “Is she usually happy with you?”

“Touche,” You took another painful sip, “Still, I’m not supposed to leave this table and I’m supposed to go straight back to my hotel room. No funny business.”

“No shenanigans whatsoever?” He frowned and you wondered why the British accent was so heavenly, “You must, at the very least, keep me entertained through whatever ceremony this is-”

“An auction, your grace.”

“What endangered species are we trying to save this time? It won’t be enough money anyways since they decorated this place with literal diamonds,” You smiled as you saw him reach into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flask, “Something stronger, perhaps?”

+

Bucky tapped his foot, starting to tune out the voice in his ear. 

The room was now full of socialites, Madam Vice President had been escorted to her seat, and now the auction was beginning. The Vice President hadn’t so much as hugged her daughter so Bucky doubted she had noticed you were drinking yet. The young Duke would refill your glass with a clear liquid every time it ran low. 

You were now giggling and laughing with him as a serious speech was given. You had to be at least six shots in. You played with his hand in your lap, leaning over to whisper in his ear, as you had the time of your life. 

Bucky didn’t panic, only made a quick decision, “Girl Scout is in need of some rescuing. Clear the exit.” 

Bucky scanned the room and his men began to follow his orders, as he approached your table. Before you could take another sip of your drink, his hand was on your shoulder. Your mother flashed him a concerned look but Bucky gave her a look to tell her not to worry. Luckily, she hadn’t noticed yet that you were about to go off the rails. 

“Want some?” You smiled lazily as you lifted your glass. Bucky took it from you, setting back on the table. 

“I think you need to use the bathroom, Miss Y/L/N,” You gave him a confused look. You wondered why he was being so stern with you. 

“Nooo, I think you have the wrong woman, officer,” Bucky grabbed onto your hand, urging you up from your seat, “Let me deal with this rude man, your grace, I’ll be back soon.”

It seemed the Duke was in a similar, drunk state and simply replied with, “Return soon, my darling. I shall wait for your return-” You couldn’t respond because Bucky was trying to pull you away. Luckily, Bucky hadn’t managed to cause a scene but he knew you’d end up getting blackout drunk and embarrassing your mother if you continued. 

Agents flocked around the two of you as you were guided out of the room. You almost tripped on the long skirt of your dress though Bucky easily caught you. You held onto him, giggling, “You couldn’t make it one night, could you?” You walked through a long hallway, staff carrying large plates of food passed and stared. 

He brought you to the bathroom which was ginormous in itself, chandeliers hanging across the length of it, and completely empty, “I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here, officer.”

He leaned against the wall, “Walk around. Splash water on your face. Sober up.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the sink counter, as you stared at your makeup. As if you would ruin your makeup to “sober up”. 

You pouted, staring at him through the mirror, “I didn’t mean to make you mad, Bucky. Only my mother.”

“Your mother is my boss. When you upset her, she’s upset with me,” Bucky was terse, and you wondered where that soft side was starting to disappear to, “You shouldn’t be drinking anyway.”

You huffed, hating that this conversation was starting to ruin your buzz, “I’m not a child. Don’t tell me you never had a sip of alcohol before you were twenty-one.”

“You think you’re more mature than you actually are,” You couldn’t help the scowl that formed on your face, “You’re not drinking for fun. You’re drinking to spite your mother.” 

He moved closer, his hands behind his back as he sunk his words into you like a knife. You turned to him, taking a challenging step toward him. He towered over you but you clung to that anger and turned it to what you thought was confidence. 

You grinned up at him, reaching out to play with the buttons of his jacket, “I thought you knew me better, Bucky,” You looked up at him with longing eyes, “I’m not a little girl anymore and you know that. You look at me differently. Your eyes linger on places you shouldn’t even be watching.”

Bucky grabbed your wrist tightly, suddenly, “Stop,” You knew you had touched a nerve. 

“See, I know these things now,” You teased, “You like it when you can swoop me up and save me.”

“It’s my job, Y/N,” He spoke sternly. He was still holding you despite his words. 

“What is it that you really want from me?” You pressed yourself closer to him, “A kiss maybe? Or something more forbidden?”

His eyes were dark with lust and you watched them linger on your lips at the mention of a kiss. What exactly did you want from him and what hole had you just dug for yourself? The alcohol was giving you courage but you weren’t actually sure how to finish what you started. 

Bucky decided for you. He turned your body quickly, pressing your back into him, as a hand tightened around your throat. He faced you toward the mirror and the two of you were illuminated with bright lights. Your eyes widened as you watched him lean into your ear, “You’re such a brat ….”

Maybe part of him wanted you to mess up. Maybe he wanted a reason to get you alone with him and away from the royal douche that you were talking to. Maybe he let you get to this point ... 

“Bucky, what are you-” His hand tightened around your throat and you felt your knees go weak. 

He shushed you, “You asked what I really wanted. I want to punish you, princess,” Shivers went through your body as his warm breath tickled your ear, “I want to fuck you speechless so you can’t talk back with that smart little mouth of yours anymore.”

You started to struggle against you but you felt his fingers tighten around the sides of your throat. His hands were so big that they wrapped perfectly around your neck, “Hands on the counter,” He loosened his grip but only so he could push you forward. Like instinct, your hands held the sink counter. You turned your head to look back at him but he grabbed your hair, forcing your face forward, “Look forward, I want you to be able to see your pretty face while I fuck you.”

“Bucky, I’m sorry,” You forced out shakily as you felt the back of your dress being slowly unzipped. Through the mirror, you watched as he carefully took in the view of your body, “Please don’t hurt me-”

“Have I ever hurt you before?” He interrupted you, his hands traveling over your bareback, “I’ll always protect you, princess. I just think, if I’m going to keep doing my job, we need some new rules.”

The straps of your dress fell down your shoulder, exposing your breast. Again, as you tried to look away, he forced your face towards the mirror again, “Don’t be shy now,” He pulled down your panties, slapping your now exposed bottom, sending a stinging pain through your skin. 

There was aching between your legs and part of you feared what he’d discover when he took a closer look. As you watched him undo his belt, a dark look in his eyes, you knew that he was going to push you all the way. He slapped your ass again, watching your body convulse as you tried to run from the pain. Surprisingly, his intimate touch only made that aching grow. 

Upon closer examination, Bucky did discover the wetness between your legs. You bit down on your lip as his fingers roamed over your sweet spot, rubbing your sensitive bulb. You bent over further, allowing him more access which caused Bucky to smirk. 

Something switched in him once again because suddenly he was pouncing again, positioning himself behind you as he pushed you further against the counter. He wanted you to see his face as he entered you, roughly grabbing your hair as he teased you entrance with his hard, throbbing cock. 

“Please…” 

“Please what? You want me to fuck you?” You closed your eyes, unwilling to answer, only to receive another smack to your bottom, “Don’t worry about what you want, princess, I’m making the decisions here.”

He stretched you as he slowly entered you and you tightly wrapped around his member, “Fuck, Y/N,” He cursed, moving deeper inside of you. At that moment, he was all that could feel, and all that consumed your thoughts. He moved torturously slow in and out of you and you gasped every time he sunk his entire length within you. 

“Bucky!” You cried out, your mouth wide as you gripped the counter for dear life, “Ah, t-t-too big … p-please. Ah!”

He moved faster now, reaching around to grab ahold of your breast as he thrust inside of you. You called his name again and that only made him speed up his pace. He was torturing with his ferocity and now you wished he’d go back to taking it easy on you. You watched in the mirror as he split you apart, taking whatever innocence you had left within you, “Good girl, princess,” He praised you, “Taking my cock. So. Good.”

He was moving too fast now. With each thrust, he was hitting the right spot and sending pleasure in cascading waves through your body. You couldn’t take it, already tightening around his cock as you orgasm. You tried to run from it, trying to pull your body forward but he grabbed your arms, forcing you back onto his cock. Tears stung your eyes as he went even deeper. 

When he finally came, he grunted hard, his moaning deep and heavy. You were defeated, conquered, though you didn’t understand why being violated could feel so good. 

You leaned against the counter as you tried to catch your breath. Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily, before pulling up his pants and tightening his belt again. He adjusted his earpiece before looking at you over again. Shaking, you were pulling up the straps of your dress.

“Sober now?” He asked, a wicked smile on his face. “Let’s try yes sir and no sir from now on. Understand?”

“Yes… Sir.”

+

i love the whole secret service concept so i hope you enjoyed it too!

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 327 Spoiler Analysis: Home Sweet Home

OH MY GOD, GUYS!!!  DEKU GETS A BATH!!!! 🎉🛁 🧼   My broccoli boy finally gets squeaky clean, gets some sleep, and we finally get some R&R time with the Class 1-A kids.  It’s not close to the happy-go-lucky days of old, but it’s some time with the kids nonetheless.  I’m glad Horikoshi put some heart and humor in this chapter because god knows we needed it.  But, let’s be real, this is the calm before the storm:

The chapter starts off with what everyone and Horikoshi has been wanting for Deku since he went on his mission: A motherfuckin’ bath 🛀 🧼🛁!   Kaminiari and Kirishima lead the Class 1-A boys to carry Deku into their side of the UA Alliance bathhouse (looks real nice btw) and give him a good power-wash.  The whole sequence is very comical!  The boys are rushing in and poor Deku has this O_O face on him like “what is happening?” 😂 We also see some of the boys butt naked 😳  It’s clear that Horikoshi had fun drawing this thing and it was fun to read 💚

Bakugo is with them of course and you can actually see his scars from when Shigaraki stabbed him.  He’s not bleeding, but you can see those scar patches on his skin.  I’m curious of how fan artist are going to draw him from now on.  I would like to see that fan art 👀

There’s also some bubble sfx coving Bakugo’s crotch and a translator said it might say dick or penis.  I’m curious what the officials will say.

But, Bakugo being Bakugo is still aggressive towards his classmates.  More playfully than before, but still.  He reminds everyone that he still intends on being the best there is and that everyone is still his rivals (also friends, Bakugo).  HE EVEN MAKES AN ATTEMPT TO CALL DEKU IZUKU!  LIKE HE ALMOST SAID “DEKU” BUT HE CHANGED IT TO IZUKU AT THE LAST MINUTE!  AND DEKU SAYS THAT CALLING HIM DEKU IS JUST FINE LIKE THAT ANGER THAT ORIGINATED FROM THE NICKNAME ISN’T THERE ANYMORE AND IT’S A FREINDLY NICKNAME BKDK FRIENDSHIP GROWTH YOU LOVE TO SEE IT 🧡💚  

After Deku’s bath, he’s sitting in the commons talking to the rest of Class 1-A.  Well, most of them.  Mina tells Deku that Ochako and a few other students went to bed after everything became ok again.  So, I definitely didn’t see Tsuyu, and it looks like Shoji, Aoyama, and Hagakare weren’t in this chapter either.  Ochako I understand; her speech must’ve been emotionally taxing.  Aoyama and Hagakare are the top suspects for being the traitor in the fandom and this isn’t helping their cases.  I don’t know about Tsuyu and Shoji though.  They’re both mutant-types, but characters like Ojiro or mutant-like people like Jiro, Mina or Tokoyami didn’t get outcasted.  Horikoshi did hint that Shoji would be getting something soon.  But, I really am just speculating here.

Now that Deku’s back, everyone has questions for him.  Though I understand why, this has gotta be overwhelming for Deku.  At least they’re not mad at him for hiding OFA.  They seem very understanding actually.

Then my ❄️🔥 boy, Shoto Todoroki, comes in all handsome right out of the baths 💙  He’s drying his right side while you can see a steam cloud on his left.  So, it is canon that Shoto drys himself naturally with his heat. His entrance is so pretty that even Mineta’s questioning it (shut up, Mineta, you’ll never be as beautiful as him).  And yes, I might be a Shoto simp, don’t judge me I see y’all too 👀

Anyway, Shoto asks everyone to let Deku sleep since that was pretty much the whole reason they brought him back.  Problem is, Deku can’t because he really needs to apologize to All Might for abandoning him.  AND AFTER HE SAYS THAT THERE’S A DETAILED PANEL OF SHOTO POINTING TO ALL MIGHT LIKE “UH, MIDORIYA? HE’S RIGHT THERE” AND ALL MIGHT LOOKING FROM THE WINDOW LIKE A HORROR VILLAIN WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE 😭

All Might comes in and apologizes to Deku for not being able to support him when he needed it, but Deku says that All Might support him more than enough.  Mina also scolds All Might for not saying anything when he left.  She wants All Might to apologize to everyone for that.  Though I’m glad Deku and All Might have reconciled (I honestly thought that last convo between them was going to be THE LAST for a hot minute), Mina has a point.  All Might did bail on all of them without any warning.  Kinda messed up in general.

All Might apologizes and he is going to fight with everyone regardless of his physical state so that he can see that flame continue to shine.  However, he warns the kids that they got info on the villains and that the final decisive battle is coming soon.  If the whole “Final Arc” thing hasn’t been hammered into your head, there you go.  I’m also glad that Stain’s speech did end up motivating All Might further.  Who knew?

So, All Might is off to help Endeavor since he’s got unfinished business to take care of.  But, the kids are wondering why Endeavor (and probably Hawks) isn’t entering UA entirely yet.  Shot reminds them that Endeavor is still connected to Dabi and that his presence alone would cause more discourse.  People’s minds can’t change that easily.  Shoto of all people would know.  

As Deku FINALLY SLEEPS 💤 and Shoto puts a blanket over him (possibly warmed by his left side 🔥) 💙💚 Shoto acknowledges how his presence might be making people anxious too even though it’s not his fault at all (thank you, Kirishima for doubling down on this btw ❤️🪨).  But, things are different and Shoto’s going to show that so that everyone can be at ease like he wants as a hero.  There’s even this sweet small smile on his beautiful face as he says this.  He’s grown so much and he’s pretty to boot I love him so much *HANDS IN FACE* 💙❄️🔥 

EVEN KIRISHIMA’S CRYING FROM HOW MANLY SHOTO IS I LOVE THESE KIDS!!!!

And now Jiro steps up and says her piece.  That she knows how hard it is to convince everyone to change their minds for the better.  Like with those two critics from the Culture Fest.  Even so, they accomplished this before, so she thinks they can do it again.  She even gathers all the band members to emphasize on this.  I love how Jiro uses her earphone jacks to rally the band and how she literally drags Bakugo by the shirt for a cute group shot.  None of these kids are afraid of Bakugo anymore LOL 😂!  Also, Momo is the tallest out of all of them in this line up shot (except for Bakugo who’s still being dragged on the ground).  I think she’s roughly 5ft 6-7 inches?  She’s the tallest of the girls I know that, but damn.  She towers all of them.  Even me...  She’s also very pretty in this shot and it’s her birthday as I’m posting this, so happy b-day Momo ❤️

And we get a beautiful panel of Jiro leading everyone to make sure that they’ll go beyond with making everything better than it was before.  We get a nice group shot of the rest of the class agreeing with her with a smile including Shoto with a small one (did I mention that I love him?) 💙💙💙 And Deku’s in the center still sleeping away.  I hope he has good dreams *kisses forehead*💚  And go Jiro for stepping up to the plate too 💜!  All these kids have grown so much.  There is a light at the end of the tunnel. 

Finally, the last pages show Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist going somewhere, maybe Tartarus.  They got info out of Dr. Ujiko via polygraph and the Nomu Research Group at Central Hospital.  They predict that they have 2 months until Shigaraki’s ready to go again, so they’ll need 1 month of preparation.  But, the info Stain gave All Might gave them more info.  His letter ended up being a personal letter to All Might (Stain really is that nuts...), but there was a microchip in the blade Stain left containing the security records from Tartarus.  It’s not stated how this info affected the mission at hand, but it sounds like it has to do something with the time frame.  So, I’m curious if they have less time to prepare or more?  Given how this is the Final Arc, Imma say less.

Finally, the teaser asks “How are the villains moving?”  I wonder if that means we’re switching to the villain’s next week.  I would love to hang out with the kids more, but I would also like to know what our villains are up to.  Like, where the hell is Himiko Toga?  Is Spinner still questioning shit?  What happened to Mr. Compress after he mauled himself to help Shigaraki and the others escape?  Also I think we need more info on this dude’s backstory given he’s the grandson of the famous Robin Hood villain who’s name definitely didn’t escape me... 😐  Is Dabi laughing his ass off from the utter chaos he started?  Is AFO still smiling like the evil mastermind he is?  Is Shigaraki as crispy as he was earlier?  I was going to ask about Twice but... 😭

So, yeah!  Love this chapter.  Really good transition chapter into whatever happens next.  I’m kinda sad we didn’t see Deku fight off more past villains during his vigilante days.  We got Muscular and Overhaul and I think that’s it?  Didn’t see any of Overhaul’s minions or that teeth-blade villain (Fish-something?; he broke out, but we haven’t seen him since) or Re-Destro or his goons.  I don’t count as Gentle or LaBrava as villains anymore and they were never truly evil to begin with.  Regardless, it was a really cool arc to see a more dark side of Deku.  I’m really glad Horikoshi made great use of his bunny hood and metal mask finally.  Deku really did look demonic for some time.  Also, seeing Deku badass is always a plus.  And seeing the deconstruction of hero society and the possible reconstruction of it was really good too.  Not everything is sunshine and rainbows, unfortunately, but we can do our best to make it that way.

I’m also glad that we finally got our kids back in top form.  Not just being heroes, but being teenagers too.  They all had great moments especially Iida, Ochako, and now Shoto as they should.  But, Bakugo’s apology was peak for me.  Over 320 chapters of development and build-up lead to that moment and it really is one of the best in the series.  It lives in my head rent free.

So, we got 1-2 months in-manga-time until what is probably the final battle of the series.  God, I can’t believe we’re actually nearing the end of this series.  I started reading it back in 2018 when shit was rough for me. I found this series after listening to the music and reading the hype around it.  I watched the show then I read the manga and it really helped me.  Saved me from a dark place actually.  I will miss this series when it’s done and I will be greatly for the joy Horikoshi has gifted us.  I’ll try to save the farewells for later.  I’d say this series has at least 1-1 1/2 years to go.

Me @ the kids and All Might:

[the-last-cuddlebender]

Please remind me when the Fire Nation built colonies in the Water Tribe territory

Disclaimer: This is a note of discourse I bring from a friend, who is far more knowledgeable about this than I could ever hope to be. You may choose to agree or disagree, and that is perfectly fine. A discussion is a dance that is happy to share its understanding so long as it is respected, in turn. 

Physically, that didn't happen anon. However, I think you're misconstruing the idea of colonization as solely meaning the physical uprooting of government and people and that being the *only* definition. There are in fact, many definitions of colonization and many negative side effects of colonization.

To quote @irresistible-revolution: colonization is "...a lot more intricate and expansive than “holding power over a land”. it’s not just about physical occupation, but enclosure, captivity, genocide." (https://www.irresistible-revolution.com/post/633250174173691904/genuinely-curious-what-do-you-think-colonization)

Colonization is not a simple definition. There is the physical aspect of it, the taking of land and settling on it. This is the textbook, non in-depth definition. Colonization also is a mental game. It entails removing the "other" and the "other's beliefs". It is a multi-faceted approach.

What the FN did to the SWT is a result of colonization. It is the colonization of a people based on the belief of superiority. They killed because they either 1. wanted to make sure there was no Water Tribe Avatar (which may I remind you is a result of the desire for imperialism and therefore colonization) or 2. Because they believed the waterbenders were inferior to firebenders and the FN.

What you are referencing, I believe, anon, is the commonly thought of type of colonization called "settler colonialism". Whereas, the type of colonization done to the SWT is closer to "extractive colonialism".

Definition pulled from historians.org: "Extractive Colonialism- All the colonizers want is a raw material found in a particular locale: beaver fur, buffalo hides, gold, guano, sandalwood. The desire for natural history specimens and ethnographic artifacts could also be considered extractive colonialism. A slash-and-burn operation, extractive colonialism does not necessarily entail permanent occupation, but it often seems to follow. Extractive colonizers might destroy or push away indigenous inhabitants to access resources but more typically depend upon native diplomatic mediation, environmental knowledge, and labor. Consequently, marriage “in the custom of the country” is more common with extractive colonialism than with settler and planter colonialism."

It could also be a combination of "imperial power colonialism": "Imperial Power Colonialism- Sometimes the purpose of colonialism appears to be simply expansion for its own sake, to aggrandize domains. Imperial rivalry between France and Britain in 18th-century North America and the 19th-century Pacific involved settler, planter, and extractive colonialism but also inspired competition to amass territory ahead of the other empire. Europeans have no monopoly on imperial power colonialism. Tongan expansion into eastern Fiji in the mid-19th century seems to have been driven primarily by the ambitions of King George Tupou I and his cousin Ma‘afu to enlarge the Tongan sphere of influence."

(source: https://www.historians.org/publications-and-directories/perspectives-on-history/october-2015/a-typology-of-colonialism)

What you are seeing, anon, is only one facet of what colonization is. Think to yourself what *you* think the FN would do if not presented with the opportunity to move imperialism across the planet. The FN would not find the need to effectively remove the SWT from the face of the earth if they weren't so hellbent on colonizing the world. What do you think the FN was doing to the Earth Kingdom at the end of ATLA? They were wiping them out because they thought they were inferior. That, essentially, is part of colonization.

Take a real life example of colonization without settling the land: a lot of Africa. I don't need to go into detail for you to know what I mean. Did the British or French necessarily settle and claim the whole continent? No. However, their interference caused countries that shouldn't have existed without interference, they caused ethnic cleansing and amplified rifts, removed parts of cultures, and a whole host of other problems that again I don't feel comfortable going into without letting someone with more experience and knowledge on that front to speak for it.

Basically anon, no I can't tell you of a point in the series in which the FN settled onto SWT land and made physical colonies because as far as I know in canon, that didn't happen. However, that doesn't mean that SWT wasn't directly affected and colonized mentally (and effectively almost wiped out).

Also, to be fair, in the post I think you're referring to, it was never said that the SWT was colonized (settler colonialism specifically) and settled upon. It said that "Katara of the Southern Water Tribe represents an indigenous nation. Her roots are inspired by indigenous people, who…guess what? Were colonized.”

I don't need to get into the fact that native Inuit peoples have had their land stolen from them and settled and pushed into the corners of what used to be their ancestral homes, and that though Alaskan, Canadian, and Greenlandic indigenous peoples have some similarities in cultures and languages, much of the language was lost and forgotten, and because of borders they remain separated from much of their people and lands.

[magireco]

Would love to hear more thoughts on how these girls have understandable teenage motivations (A+ tag analysis by the way)

1. Thank you!!!!!!

2. ALRIGHT IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS (shuffles my papers). i’ve gone off about homura’s motivations in depth before but i think it was only in dms/groupchats? anyways i’ll go in order with All the girls bc i think about this all the time as a teenager who grew up mentally ill and had their perceptions skewed because of it, and also i don’t think it’s talked about nearly enough for the others, at least on my blog... so, buckle up!!! this is REALLY LONG!!!! 

3. i tried writing like, an individual thing for every member of the quintet all together in this one ask, but i ended up talking a little too much about homura and now i’m going to split up all the different analysis stuff for each character into the reblogs and work on it every so often! you’re free to kinda skim of course because i really did write a whole novel but here we go!! read under the cut. :3 this is literally essay length btw. i did NOT expect it to get this long but if you want to read it all i’d recommend it but i don’t expect most people to

First: Homura Akemi

okay so i’m going to kind of summarize everything but from the perspective of empathizing with her so if you don’t want to reread a whole recap you can skip to the ending few paragraphs

Summary

first of all, in episode 10, homura’s past is explained for the viewer. she was a shy, unsure girl who had been bedridden for a long time. she was clearly unsocialized, not to mention she went to a catholic school and those can be brutal, esp in japan... that’s all we know about her in that episode, but it’s revealed in one of the drama cds that she was bullied as a child(& further at mitakihara middle), her parents never were mentioned ever (i assume them to either be dead or neglectful, considering she lives alone and unchecked), and in magia record, homura says to natsuki that she’s never had friends before, she hasn’t been on vacation before until the beachside bonds event, hasn’t ever celebrated valentine’s day, has never celebrated new years, etc... 

clearly, she’s missed out on a lot not only because of her sickness and hospitalization, but because of her isolation as a child at school. judging by her demeanor and the way she reacts when madoka comes up to her without being asked to, something like that had never happened to her before. it’s clear to me that madoka was many of homura’s “first’s”, her first friend, the first person who reached out to her, the first person to compliment her name honestly(validating her, disproving her dislike of her name), the first person to regard her so kindly rather than judging her based off of her appearance and demeanor (like other students had apparently done, this is also shown when the other students at mitakihara middle make fun of her for being tired after only being able to run one lap). AND, madoka (and mami, but homura knew madoka better at that time) saved her life, even though homura was so willing to die, just in that moment... i’d assume it made homura feel like someone believed in her even when she was at her worst. it’s really clear by the glimmer in her eyes that these are nice people that made her feel happy and welcome... and then walpurgisnacht came. she didn’t know much about magical girls and just believed in madoka and mami to be able to defeat the witch because she saw them as strong and saw the witch as defeatable, despite its size. and then mami died, right in front of her and madoka... 

this kinda seems headcanon-y when i phrase it this way but it’s practically proven in her actions but i really think homura is scared to be abandoned, especially by someone who was as overtly kind and nonjudgemental to her as madoka... it’s in the way she cries her name and says “don’t go” before madoka runs away to fight walpurgisnacht. OH ALSO, i need to address this one thing really quick because people like to assume that homura didn’t care about mami from the beginning and only liked madoka. it’s not that she wasn’t sad when mami died, she was clearly terrified and didn’t want the same to happen to madoka, also mami LITERALLY WASN’T IN HER CLASS OR HER GRADE so i assume she spent most of her time with madoka considering they were in the same grade and class and probably shared most of their periods with each other... but also, once again, mami is older than both of them and homura probably saw her as more of a mentor/teacher that she needed to impress rather than madoka who was more on her level, i guess?

anyways, moving on... homura had to see madoka die (& experience the crushing guilt she felt for “letting madoka go” even though there was nothing she could’ve done) and literally says “i’d rather you had lived than saved someone like me” ... her self worth is below zero. she makes her wish to be strong enough to protect madoka(because she sees madoka, her first friend, who saved her life which she felt had no worth, as so strong and noble) which causes her to go back in time, etc. etc., you know the deal. okay before i move on to talk a little more abt the timelines and the personality change i’m going to address why it’s reasonable that she’d be attached to madoka.

i mentioned before that homura said herself that she had never had a friend before. just like, put yourself into her shoes for a second. this girl has no idea how to make friends; it was never taught to her. it’s literally rational that she’d get attached to her first ever friendship. it’s not “normal” the way she views madoka, but how could it be? this is her first time having a friend, she’s afraid of being abandoned by her, but she’s had to see her die over and over again anyway. she doesn’t want to lose madoka. even if she doesn’t go about it in the right way, there’s no way she would’ve actually known how to Do relationships. no one taught her. i think that needs to be empathized with more...

i kinda feel like i need to summarize all this just bc if i word it right it kinda reminds you & puts into perspective just how terrible and scary all of this was.

anyway Again, i would skip straight to the end of timeline 3 (where a New Flavor of trauma is given to homura) but i need to first address timeline 2 for a second. it was homura’s first time repeating the timeline, she trained with madoka and mami again, she was still hopeful despite what happened, etc. kinda just bonding further with madoka Again... and then it’s at the end of this timeline that she watches madoka turn into a witch, just in front of her very eyes... and realizes the true fate of magical girls. when she resets the timeline again, it’s up to her to start anew and break the truth to the group when she sees them again. when she tries telling the truth, sayaka immediately shoves this aside, claiming homura was just trying to split everyone up. it’s clear that that hurts homura. (also the little shinies in her eyes were wavering which is anime-code for sad) her feelings were immediately disregarded by sayaka and she couldn’t defend herself, but madoka did for her, and mami tried to diffuse the situation. 

after they all find out homura was right when sayaka turns into a witch, mami kills kyoko and ties up homura in her ribbons and aims a gun at her, and this, rightfully, ignited a fear within homura... madoka is forced to kill mami in order to save homura, leaving only the two of them to fight together. then, when walpurgisnacht comes that time, The Promise is made... madoka tells homura to go back in time and save her from becoming a witch (because she doesn’t want to curse the world that way, she still sees beauty in it) and homura agrees, saying she’ll never stop until she saves madoka, and then... homura has to mercy kill madoka before she becomes a witch. she cries loudly and shoots madoka’s soul gem... it’s literally so heartwrenching and (usually) brings the viewer to tears, or puts something into perspective for them...

then we assume the personality change happens in the timeline right after. this personality change causes a lot of discourse because sometimes it’s seen as kind of irrational, but personally, i think even moemura had at least SOME resent for the world around her considering what she’d been through. it’s madoka’s repeated deaths that finally push her over that edge. i could get further into the coolmura arc but that’d take a WHILE, so i’ll just kind of explain something briefly though -- why homura ended up becoming even MORE focused on madoka. and i’m also going to debunk the claim that homura doesn’t care about her other friends as fast as i can before moving on.

also, ONE LAST side tangent, for those that think homura really did do a 360 degree personality turn are wrong. it’s shown explicitly in homulilly’s labyrinth that there’s this... “core” homura, a shadowy purple silhouette with braids. every time the series depicts homura’s internal self, it’s always glasses+braids, symbolizing her “child” self, who she truly is. she never stopped being that person. she doesn’t want to kill. ...but i can get into that in a rebellion analysis later! this is also shown in wraith arc bc the person inside her soul gem has glasses+braids. anyway let’s get to the next part i’m going to rant about

Homura’s Love for Madoka, but Otherwise Apathy

homura has seen many different, yet all similar, versions of her friends. the first claim i’m going to talk about which i saw brought up quite a few times before is in regards to homura and mami. first of all, homura absolutely still cares for mami, and not just in the “i only care about your life if it affects madoka’s” way. one part that always gets me is when mami ties her up in the series timeline after homura frantically warns her that this witch isn’t normal, to which mami IMMEDIATELY brushes this off, without even giving homura a chance. then, when mami’s ribbons fade away, homura looks horrified and just goes “oh no...” and it’s kind of obvious to me that it was in response to mami’s death rather than madoka’s reaction. this is arguably up for debate i guess because i’ve seen different takes on that reaction and it’s ambiguous, i guess? but i’m about to get into something extremely similar and that’s the sayaka situation, where madoka throws sayaka’s soul gem onto a moving car. homura gasps and immediately pauses time and disappears, running in literal open traffic and climbing on top of a moving car to retrieve sayaka’s soul gem. one could argue that this is ALSO only just because homura wants to save madoka (and kyoko) the fear, but don’t you think her expression would be different? if homura truly didn’t care for sayaka’s wellbeing, wouldn’t she be making an expression more similar to like, “oh, this shit again...” instead of the frantic one she was making in the scene? this kind of thing Also happens when kyoko asks homura to leave while kyoko’s about to sacrifice herself in oktavia’s labyrinth, and homura looks up sadly at kyoko and then back down at madoka, and once she knew kyoko was dead, she just quietly said “kyoko...” to herself. she usually refers to them as [last name, first name], but she dropped that during that moment... it otherwise sounds like a bare minimum thing to do, but keep in mind the timeline we’re shown in the series is implied to be like, the 110th timeline, i think? like, this is the last timeline, she’s worn down, but she still does have empathy -- or at least sympathy -- for the others. she still loves them. 

homura promised to be madoka’s protector, she dedicated her life to her, and also she doesn’t have a choice not to dedicate her life to her anymore, even though that’s not fair to her... homura is in a really hopeless situation and madoka is her hope, and madoka is the one that judges her the least out of the quintet (like saying “i’m sure homura is good” to herself) upon first impression. also okay i mentioned this already in my last post (which you saw) but i’m going to bring it up one more time, homura is not mentally 26!!!!!! she is still 14 mentally!! in order to be 26, you have to have experienced 26 years of new life experience. maybe you acquire that through school, maybe you aquire that through friends, whatever it takes. but homura just repeated the same month over and over, and it’s not like her body (canonically) ages ever. she just kind of gets transported back into her body in the hospital again considering she’s back wearing her braids and pajamas... so, yeah. no mental development there. i also mentioned this here but i’m gonna say it again, that just makes it even harder for her to actually age correctly... it stunts her to 14. imagine being 14 for 10-11 years...

In Defense Of My Own Claims

btw before you think i’m just going full-on radical homura apologist, i’m not explaining all of this to be like “homura made ALL THE RIGHT DECISIONS because her trauma gave her an excuse!!” because like, Obviously, she did a lot of bad things, she killed people, did a lot of callous things, a lot of thoughtless things, a lot of things that make her seem emotionless, etc. but i just have trouble blaming her considering how things ended up, and it’s not like she enjoys killing people. she’s not sadistic... she ends up becoming short with all the others not only because of her (extremely) weakened trust in them, but also because the amount of times she repeated the timeline. i’d imagine it makes her feel like the others can’t truly die because she can just go back and see them again. (this is also why wraith arc/post-tv series must’ve been hard for her because she can no longer turn back time, things are permanent now, deaths are forever) she’s become so worn down that she’ll do anything to escape the loops... also considering she has no choice but to continue? although it shouldn’t be, it’s technically her job as a magical girl to defeat all witches and walpurgisnacht counts. it kills magical girls and tears up the whole city and she’s usually the only magical girl left... her choices, when defeated, are either to give up and die or to go back and try again, and she made a promise to her first ever friend to do just the latter... i just don’t understand how this isn’t easier for people to comprehend, that all of this trauma and stress and responsibility on top of an already traumatized 14 year old does not mix well. ever. she had to figure out all of this by herself.

TL;DR:

homura was a previously traumatized, unsocialized 14 year old with (very)low self esteem & self worth whose first friend (and first love, really, let’s be honest) died in front of her in horrific ways and she watched as she (and the other friends she came to make) drifted slowly apart from her in her endless and futile attempt in saving her from what proved to be an inescapable fate. also she’s 14 and also she’s (canonically) mentally ill and a lesbian. not a monster, not evil, not “psycho”. and that’s that!

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

hello!! I am a fellow Ugetsu fan (I feel we are not many but growing ever bigger in number!), I really like all your Ugetsu meta and I wanted to ask what, for you personally, would be a good point for Ugetsu’s character arc by the end of the manga. I hope we get more content from him from sensei!! And if we do, what would you like to see?

Hello there, dear fellow Ugetsu fan!

It’s always so nice to meet other Ugetsu fans! I feel like the movie grew our numbers a little. Based on what I’ve heard, seeing Ugetsu in the movie made people see him differently and sympathize with him more.

And thank you for reading my Ugetsu musings! I’m glad to hear you’ve enjoyed them.

“what, for you personally, would be a good point for Ugetsu’s character arc by the end of the manga”

This is a very good question. I think my personal vision for Ugetsu’s “endpoint” is based on what we saw in the Ugetsu extra booklet that was published with the Blueray release of the movie. I think there were a few more prominent points in there that hint at what Ugetsu’s future will look like. You can find pictures of the booklet HERE and separate English translations HERE.

Ugetsu and Mafuyu

Mafuyu congratulating Ugetsu for his win and Ugetsu sending him a squirrel “thank you” sticker made me so happy:

I really wish Mafuyu and Ugetsu will stay in touch and Ugetsu will remain connected to the story through that friendship. I understand that the whole Ugetsu-Akihiko-Haruki arch is done now, but I could definitely see Ugetsu popping up via Mafuyu. I feel like their friendship and how they seemed to connect would be so important to Ugetsu. With Mafuyu, he would feel like someone out there does understand/listen to him. Mafuyu not only sees Ugetsu but also tries to reach him. He hears what Ugetsu is trying to say and is able to put those things into his own music which talks to Ugetsu in return. I don't think Ugetsu has that with anyone else.

So, in the end, I could see Ugetsu still being part of the story via Mafuyu. As I’ve said before, I really don't think Kizu wrote Ugetsu as some kind of villain. He isn’t an evil witch who needs to be cast out in the end. I think his relationship with Mafuyu supports that discourse and I really hope Mafuyu seeing Ugetsu as human will keep reminding the readers of that.

Ugetsu and Akihiko

Akihiko sent Ugetsu a text saying “Congrats” and Ugetsu talks about how someday the butterfly will grow beautiful wings:

When the booklet came out, I saw people - both AkiHaru shippers and Ugetsu stans - being worried about that text Akihiko sent Ugetsu. People seemed to take the message as Akihiko still being hung up on Ugetsu even if he’s already going out with Haruki. Others saw it as Akihiko being toxic because he was causing Ugetsu pain by staying in touch.

Personally, I could see Ugetsu and Akihiko remaining somewhat like friends even after the break-up. They didn't break up hating each other. Their break-up was more about being finally able to let go of each other, not about one of them doing something that broke their relationship and caused the other to hate his guts. In the end, they were both hurting and knew that they were better apart.

I think Kizu making Akihiko send that text was a representation of what Ugetsu talked about with Mafuyu before the AkiUgetsu break-up (vol. 5 ch. 27):

In Given, “music” has a lot of symbolic value and drive. It’s this infinite, abstract place that stores memories and people who have been important to the characters. But it also represents new relationships and keeps shifting in nature. AkiUgetsu had their own kind of music, and now Akihiko is playing a new kind of music with Haruki. But music will always remain.

Music will keep Akihiko and Ugetsu connected on some level. Even if they are no longer in a romantic relationship, they will always share “music”. It’s where their shared memories reside (what they used to be). It’s where they can see each other (what they are now). None of that means they are still hung up on each other. They are not getting back together. It’s more of a parallel to how Mafuyu is still connected to Yuki via music. A new dawn is breaking for both Ugetsu and Mafuyu, but music is always left behind from those previous relationships while it’s also the way for both of them to move forward.

Another thing about them remaining in contact via music is that despite everything, I think Ugetsu is happy for Akihiko. In the booklet, he talked about how neither of them was able to spread their wings in the suffocating basement. Ugetsu was unable to be free with his music whereas Akihiko had lost his passion for his music. I think Ugetsu seeing Akihiko play the violin again - playing it with motivation, drive, and a purpose - would make him happy. After all, it’s what he had wanted for Akihiko all this time. It might be laced with bitter-sweetness (like nearly all happiness in Given) for Ugetsu, but ultimately I think it would give him joy to see Akihiko fly.

So, personally I can see Akihiko still being a part of Ugetsu’s life even a little in the end.

Ugetsu’s future relationships - yay or nay?

I’ve seen people talk about if they would like Ugetsu to end up finding another love interest by the time Given ends. Some seem to prefer he didn’t while others would be interested in seeing him find someone.

Personally, I would say I’m fine with either path but lean more towards him remaining by himself in the end. First of all, I think Ugetsu finding himself a new love interest wouldn’t be a good idea pacing-wise. It would come too fast. Akihiko was already in love with Haruki by the time AkiUgetsu broke up. Living at Haruki’s place had made him realize that he had loved Ugetsu but now it was painful and suffocating.

I believe Ugetsu, on the other hand, still loved Akihiko when Akihiko finally broke up with him. That’s why it had to be Akihiko who let go of Ugetsu’s hand and walked away in the end. Ugetsu was hurting in their relationship, but he still “loved Akihiko to death”. Of course, we don't know how long it will still take for Given to finish, but I feel like it would still be too soon for Ugetsu.

Secondly, I feel like Ugetsu falling in love with someone new would defeat his overall “character”. A part of why he wanted to break up with Akihiko was how his love for Akihiko affected his music. He became more occupied with Akihiko and chased him instead of his music. I’m not saying he can never fall in love with anyone, but rather that he is now free to pursue music like had wanted to. He can now spread his wings, too, without worrying about snuffing out someone else’s.

Also, I think Ugetsu’s character could represent the idea that you don't need a romantic relationship to feel happy and fulfilled. Ugetsu strikes me as the type who could find those things in his music and be “independent” like that. If after everything he said about wanting to chase his music he began another relationship, it would somewhat reverse the journey he went through in the comic. I think if he found another romantic interest, they would have to be a well-fleshed-out character, and I’m not sure if the comic really has time for that. I wouldn’t want Ugetsu’s new partner to be some kind of sidenote in the margins since falling in love (again) would be such a big thing for Ugetsu’s character.

Overall, I’m not against Ugetsu finding someone new per se but I just think it’s not a good idea because of pacing and what it would mean for Ugetsu’s overall character development. I think it would be better if he takes time to pursue his music, figure himself out more and go for some adventures on his own, and that’s where we leave him off once Given ends.

In general, I think Ugetsu will be just fine in the end. I don’t personally want to be an angst-monger when it comes to his future. He went through something painful and is recovering but he seems to be determined to find new kind of happiness.

I leave you with smiling Ugetsu saying “daijoubu“ 🖤

Thank you for your question, dear Ugetsu anon!

[spacebunnywrites]

My Religion is You

Here is my piece for the Citrus Dome server collab. The server ran by the LOVELY @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​ Let me tell ya, this piece was a wild ride. Will it have a part two? Who knows. Pairing: Kaminari Denki x Male Reader Rating: E for Explicit. (Sorry, no C for Crackhead this time. Maybe some D for Dumbass though) Kinks: Mild Courting, Religious, Oral, Frottage, Clothed Sex, Chastity Cages, Virgin Reader, super low-key attempt at confinement, forced Virginity, crying while cumming, oral Word Count: 2700ish

Worship has always been a part of your daily routine. Each season you place the different fruits of the temple's labour at the altar at the top floor of the shrine. Every day you pray, lighting incense and muttering soft songs. It’s human nature, seeking answers from the Gods.

But you never expected one to answer. Especially not for you. The weather was brutal, you figured the messenger god wouldn't be able to appreciate the offerings left for him. That he would let these offerings expire and go to the wolves that surrounded the forest temple. But, when you turned around to leave the altar where offerings were housed a large crack of lightning startled you. Lightning that hit a nearby tree, knocking down a large branch. The limb falling from the top and crashing its way down. Taking other branches with it on the path downward. A cloud of ravens taking flight in the heavy rain, seeking shelter in a new tree. But that wasn't the part that caught your eye. It was the bright light coming from within the shrine.

In a flash of yellow light stood a slim man. Clad only in a long, nearly see through loincloth. It brushed the ground between his legs, and the two scraps of material were held by a thin golden chain. Small interlocking circles, woven tight enough to look closer to a rope. You could tell that his outfit wasn't complete, his chest and a single shoulder were a lighter colour than his thighs and arms. His shirt was missing. Exposing the light tone of his abs to you, eyes raking over the slender frame for a moment while your brain spun in circles.

"Where is your shirt!?" Not caring for why he had appeared. Or even how he had appeared. You assumed he was a follower that you just hadn't met yet. To be fair, you were new to the temple. A transfer from the temple in the mountains. The God of Endeavours had grown angry towards the shrines of lesser Gods. Demanding all the attention be on him as a clearly superior God. But you preferred the God of Gossip. Well… technically he was the God of Messengers. But in recent years he only carried gossip, and as such his title had changed. Most offerings were tea related, people prayed to him for their secrets to remain safe. Your old temple had prayed to the God of Gossip asking for great fortune to come their way, in the form of news from the God of Foresight. Though, the only fortune that came was bad, in the form of a rock slide that destroyed the structure. Since only young lithe men were permitted to run the temples, there was no one to rebuild the temple. Leaving all the priests without home, which is how you had ended up here. The Forest temple welcomed you with open arms. The God of Fortunes had foretold them of a misplaced virginal Shrine Maid-Man that would bring the God of Gossip to their shrine one day. 

The man before you chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. Bouncing on the balls of his feet before shrugging softly. "Don't ask me such hard questions… I have no idea what happened to it." His free hand reaching out to grab an apple from the offering table. You slapped his hand away, scowling harshly.

"Don't touch those. They are for our God! You should know better. I ought to bring you to the High Priest for exile!" Your voice in a hushed whisper. You didn't want either of you getting caught after all. Only a few members of the temple had free access to the offering rooms. Each member hand selected. As of this moment, it was only you allowed to be in the offering rooms. Your previous partner in the duty had been moved to offering tours of the lower floors. Only you were allowed in the highest tower. Well… you, and now this near naked man apparently.

Somehow the man looked more sweet when he was ashamed. A soft flush covering his cheeks, spreading downward to tint his chest and neck as well. Blond hair in a messy style, parts of it standing on end as if he had arrived with the lighting itself. "Right. Offerings. So… everything in this room is an offering to the god?" Slowly closing the distance between you. If he wasn't so adorable, the look his face took on would seem almost predatory. Yet, you didn't have it in you to be afraid of him. Something seemed to scream that he was safe. 

"Y/N!" A voice called from the bottom of the stairs. It was the High Priest. You had taken too long leaving the offerings for the god. You turned around to announce you would be leaving in a moment, an excuse about the oil in the lanterns needing to be filled falling from your lips easily. Only slightly cut off by a loud rumble of thunder and another flash of lightning. And when you returned your attention to the man that had been with you, he was gone. The only trace that he had been there at all was a golden bracelet replacing the apple that had been left out for your god. Along with a note telling you to wear the bracelet. It was a simple cuff, shaped like a lightning bolt.

☆☆☆☆☆

Weeks passed since you last saw the strange blond. No one had any idea who you were talking about when asked. It was like he came and went with the lightning! But that was impossible. Only the Messenger God himself could travel through lightning. And there was no fucking way you communed with the god you prayed to. Sure, an offering had been exchanged for a token. But you figured that one of your fellow Followers had played a cruel trick on you. Which is why you had yet to put the bracelet on, despite how badly you wanted to wear it. The golden bracelet called to you, without meaning to you often found yourself playing with where it sat in your tunic. 

"Y/N! Why do you keep playing with your pockets, boy!? Get up to the offering rooms. Lately the offers are ignored, how did you anger the God? You won't leave the room until he shows and accepts the offerings." The tone cold as he grasped your wrist and pulled you towards the stairs leading up to the offering rooms. “There will be a guard stationed here day and night. You will go no further than the bottom of the stairs, and only to retrieve the day's offerings. Hope he shows soon, or you will starve waiting for him.” You didn’t understand how he could be so angry with you. Nothing had changed in the way you did the offerings. Yet every offering was rejected. The roosters refused to eat, all of the tortoise shells perished. It seemed everything that showed your God still cared for the temple was fading. No other temple reported these findings, it was only yours. The High Council concluding the problem was you, since you were the only Shrine Maid-Man that was allowed in the offering rooms. No one listened about the blond you met in the room those weeks ago. Everyone assumed you had defiled the offering altar and lowered yourself to one of the Sacred Prostitutes. That you had allowed such sacrilege happenings to occur in the room designed just for offerings to the God. No one listened to you insisting that you were still pure. Only the Sacred Prostitutes were permitted to have any form of intercourse, the rest of the Shrine was to remain chaste. A practice you didn’t understand. It wasn’t like the Messenger God was known for his virginity. Quite the opposite, really. It seemed that every week new stories of his conquests filled the shrine. Not to mention the Shrine Prostitutes seemed to only exist for this one shrine. You knew your old shrine certainly didn’t have them. Not with how often an orgy was often walked in on. Maybe this Shrine wasn’t all it was chalked up to be. Maybe the God of Messengers no longer wanted the Forest Temple. Had they strayed too far from him that he ignored them? You fiddled again with the bracelet in your pocket, frowning at how it called to you. You shouldn’t be attracted to the piece of metal that likely caused this discourse. You swallowed back your anger towards the High Priest and settled into your routine. Filling the oil lamps that had gotten too low, lighting any incense that had extinguished itself, opening the curtains to the windows, and polishing the wood that the altar was made of. The light of high noon filtering in and warming your flesh. Taking your mind off the way the bracelet in your pocket screamed for attention. The simple, habitual tasks easy for you to get lost in. It was comforting in a way to have only a few things to focus on. Until your stomach growled. The only food belonged on the offering table, and your devotion was strong enough to not even think about taking the offerings. ☆☆☆☆☆ You found yourself thinking of the bracelet more and more. Especially when the pangs of your hunger began to actually settle down on you. Reminding you more frequently of the last time you ate. It took every ounce of your being to not slip on the golden cuff. The cuff was what put you in the trouble that you were in. You had let some random man take one of the offerings left out, and now your God had abandoned the temple. Abandoned you. All you had left was the soft voice in your dead telling you to put the bracelet on. That everything will be okay once you wear the bracelet. But you knew that to be the voice of demons. They were trying to tempt you away from your God. Yet less than a full day of being locked into the room, you sighed and slipped the bracelet on. Succumbing to the voice calling to you. Slightly freaked out by the way static seemed to run through your body as it did. Yet nothing else changed. The sky was still a bright blue, the light breeze still fluttered the curtains, and you were still stuck in the room. Why had you expected anything different? “You finally put it on. I was wondering how long being ignored would take to work.” The soft voice whispered into your ear. Jumping at the suddenness only had you knocking your shoulder into his jaw. Watching as he pouted and stuck his tongue out to make you inspect it. “Di’I ite eye ung?” Clearly a failed attempt at did I bite my tongue. How could a demon be so adorable? How had a demon even gotten on to holy ground? It was only then that you noticed the lightning bolt in his hair. This was no demon. You had summoned Chargebolt, the Messenger God by putting on the bracelet. “Holy fuck.” Whispered as you fell back onto your ass. The simple tunic you wore parting to expose yourself, the golden chastity cage you wore glistening in the lowering sunlight. You didn’t even realize that it had happened, more focused on putting distance between you and the actual fucking God that stood before you. This time he wasn’t half dressed. His sheer loincloths connected to the upper half of his robes. Everything was so see through he might not have been wearing anything at all. Your eyes tried not to linger on his sex, but it was basically at eye level. Every scoot you took back, he took two steps forward. “Well, you did say everything in this room was an offering. So I suppose a holy fuck as you put it could be provided.” Shrugging as he began to remove his clothing. The sheer material falling around his feet with ease as he shrugged his shoulder out of the strap holding his top up and unhooked one of the thin golden chains on his hips. He didn’t seem to notice your eyes going wide as he approached. He was entirely naked before you, and seemed to actually want you. He wanted a lowly Shrine Maid-Man such as yourself. “We have to remain virgins! I…. I can’t. I’m sorry Chargebolt, God of Messengers, Teller of Gossip, Traveller of Lightning, Spiller of Tea… Um…” You couldn’t remember the rest of his monkiers at this moment. But he had stopped advancing. Brow furrowed and his head tilted as if he were a puppy and not a whole ass god. As if he had never heard of this rule before. Which was likely true. You knew your old Temple certainly didn’t have the rule. That or your Temple only had Shrine Prostitutes. Which also could be the case. At this point you didn’t know anything anymore. “Virgins? That has never been a requirement in my temples… And you wear a strange device on your loins. Is the device to keep you pure?” His hand reaching out to grab at the caged cock between your legs. Sinking down to his knees while he inspected it. The metal eventually falling off into his hands. You felt scared and excited to have a divine being between your legs. He seemed so intent on inspecting you- Oh!

A wet heat swallowed your length down. Chargebolt was using his mouth on you! Your god was defiling you in the room designed for his offerings. Had he mistaken you for an offering? You didn't mind it… no. You loved being used by your God. Chargebolt taking your virginity certainly couldn't be a strike against you. The Messenger God had a mouth clearly designed for this kind of debauchery. His tongue pressed firmly on the thick vein that ran along your underside, it swirled around the tip when he came up for air. When he sank down to bury his nose against your stomach his throat pulsed around you. Everything he did had you falling apart in an embarrassing amount of time. But you found yourself too lost in the mindless delight of the act to even warn him.

Instead you spilled down his throat with a quiet sob. Whimpering slightly as you curled around your head. It had been so long since you last got off, and now Chargebolt was getting you off. Using only his mouth as well. The God smiled and wiped at the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Pulling the digit into his mouth and sucking off the last remnants of your essence. 

"There's my pretty Angel. You look so good like that. I was right to select you as my favoured." Cooed softly into your ear before he crawled over you. Pressing quick kisses against your clothed chest. Licking the sweat away from your neck. Humming softly while he was doing so. Despite just finishing down his skilled throat, you wanted to go again. He had opened the door to your repressed sexual appetite, and now he needed to fix it. Your hips rolled up to grind your erections together. You swore you heard needy whimpers, but Chargebolt didn't seem to be making any noise. Oh- it was coming from you.

You were making those soft whimpers. Just from a little bit of friction on your newly freed cock. "Oh, Angel. You sound so sweet for me." His words whispered straight into your ear. Followed by a wet tongue licking the shell of your ear. Holy fucking hell. Was any of this supposed to feel that good? Faintly you heard yourself whispering soft pleas. Begging him for more. 

"Nothing more than this, Angel. Not on our second meeting. Allow me to relieve you once more, and then I need to leave. Keep the bracelet on. Take it off, and I can't come see you again until Incinerate, the God of Pride has a mood and it causes a storm. I felt so bad ignoring your offerings. But how else was I supposed to get you to put on my bracelet?" Soft kisses pressed against your neck as he continued to roll his hips against yours. Providing you the friction you needed to ruin your robes. By the time you opened your eyes again, he was gone. The only trace he had been there, your broken chastity cage and the cum drying on your clothing.

[andsmile]

do you think b/rchie is bad for betty?

I’ve been postponing answering these questions because...welp. I talk about BA too much, but you guys seem to enjoy my discourse, so.

I think I have to be clear that I don’t think that fundamentally Archie and Betty are bad to each other. They’re “good people”, they’ve been friends their whole lives, in a bubble where you have Archie and Betty growing up together with their friend Jughead or without their friend Jughead and they date other people along the way etc, Veronica shows up or doesn’t, but BA end up together, childhood friends to lovers or whatever it is that attracts the shippers, I think it’s whatever. 

It’s just another ship and it’s a valid one. Archie is fundamentally a good character, he’s not gonna hurt her or anything, and Betty is fundamentally a good character, she’s not gonna fuck his life or something. 

Even though the idea of them bores me I think that if written the right way, they can be good and interesting. If you want to write a fic about how their journey went I am pretty sure your fic will be a good, compelling story, and it might even be as in character as possible for characters we met in the pilot...in season one, if I stretch.

H o w e v e r, and my point every time I explain why I don’t like BA, 

These two characters don’t exist in their bubble. They don’t exist in the universe you created. They exist within a certain universe that is already established by four seasons of a certain canon, portrayed in a certain way, and I don’t think some people realize how this universe is established:

In the canon universe, Archie and Betty had childhood crushes on each other. Archie moved on, Betty didn’t. She confessed her feelings and dreams, that are very paralleled to becoming her sister and Jason Blossom. Then, Archie rejects Betty because he doesn’t have feelings for her and even though he says to her that it’s because she’s too perfect for him (and he says that because he feels guilty for hurting her) it’s not what he said to the girl that caught his eye before (I have never felt whatever I’m supposed to feel with Betty is a the line he says to the girl that caught his eye, and yeah okay we could play into the denial narrative but then two seasons later he tells Veronica Ronnie, when I first met you, you were it for me so I think Archie knew exactly what he was supposed to feel) and Betty got sad for a bit, but she moved on and found a connection with Jughead. Who was Archie’s best friend. And even if Archie felt jealous or not (I have said before what I think about his jealousy, and BAs have called me delusional, but anyway), that’s what happened. Betty found in Jughead both a boyfriend and a best friend and became the power couple that had nothing to do with the childhood dream. Archie got with the girl who was “it” for him from the beginning and went through hell and back for her. Every once in a while, they look over their shoulders to each other, especially when things with Jughead and Veronica are shaky -- and boy, they’re often shaky -- and are reminded, in different intensities and timings, of things they could’ve been.

This is the canon narrative, and if you support BA in canon understanding this, that’s probably fine. But most people go by some narrative created by the great majority of the BA fandom that, essentially, says that the story these four seasons of canon is telling us is a bunch of lies. That the Archie has only dated who he did (three woc) because he couldn’t get his hands on the perfect, virginal, white girl-next-door that he wasn’t ready for. That Betty’s main character traits, that have only actually flared up after she got over him, changed her and made her someone insufferable, and that she was better around Archie, even though he didn’t feel anything for her before. A narrative that reduces Betty to a girl who actually found out who she really was so she could “claim her prize”, and that reduces Archie to be “her prize”, because none of his choices matter either. He was just regretting making “the wrong choice” all the time. In the middle of the way, this fan-created narrative still says that the very deep and meaningful relationship Archie has with a latinx is just sexual. It also says that the very deep and meaningful relationship Betty has with Jughead is “rebound”, “incest”, “bland”, just because it’s not sexual enough, according to them. Even though it is. But of course, the main and the latinx woman are all about sex. Betty and Jughead act like siblings, they’re boring. Archie and Betty? The perfect combination of the main and the virginal, perfect girl who can’t do no wrong. But now the main sees that she isn’t perfect! He knows her better than anyone, even better than her boyfriend/bestfriend, even though they haven’t interacted in years. And now that she has proved herself not perfect, not virginal, she can be with him, and she won’t be oversexualized even if she is--they’ll be crazy about each other, romantic! Exciting!

If you support this made-up narrative in the bubble of Riverdale, you are invalidating all the growth and the choices these two characters have done in four seasons of content. That’s why many reviewers that aren’t up on the idea of BA stemming from the comics or in the idea that the show “needs a change”, said “this was so out of character for them”, because it was. You reduce their journey as characters and turn them into each others love interests and that’s all, they’re nothing else. And you do that in the expense of friendships (that aren’t well developed but that we are still meant to believe in), the entire character of Veronica (I will never shut up, if you think Veronica is a bump in the road for Archie you are simply an asshole), the gigantic amount of trauma Archie’s been through, the gigantic amount of change and growth Betty’s been through aaaand---

The comics! That’s an usual argument I see around to be pro-BA in the show, because they stem from the comments, and it always flabbergasts me because...the ARCHIE COMICS? REALLY? Who basically created the girl-next-door stereotype in the 1940′s and numerous Betty’s have been portrayed here and there always taking all the bullshit from their husbands who are often pursuing the “Veronicas” of the world and coming back home where they wait and suffer for them? I can mention at least 10 characters from the media that are made in Betty’s molds and the cathartic moment for all of them are when they finally get the fuck away from their “Archies” who never love them enough, but then you have, in the very AC live action, the actual Betty Cooper’s character who makes a vow with Veronica for boys not come between them, look over her shoulder and stop focusing on Archie for the first time in seven decades to focus on someone else in a cinematic moment that should go to feminism in media (I swear) with how symbolic that shit was, and you want... you really want... her to go through this so soon in her journey so she gets Archie as her prize in the end?

You cannot convince me you are a fan of Betty Cooper in any universe if that’s what you want for her.

So, yeah. I think BA is bad for Betty. I don’t think Archie is bad for Betty, I don’t think Betty is bad for Archie, but I think their ship in the canon context of Riverdale and the ~representation game they play, it’s a menace. You can all send me inboxes again saying people should be able to ship whatever they ship - and they should. And they will. I won’t change that. I am only giving out my opinion, and I stand by it. 

[sabbywrites]

Let’s talk.

This is a long post that also happens to be long overdue. Also posted as a thread to my twitter (tl;dr at end). 

Hi everyone. It’s been a while. I’ve been debating for a little bit on how to write this, going back and forth between feeling scared and feeling determined to say what I want to say. I’m finally at a point where I can confidently say: let’s talk.

First, I want to say this: I’m sorry. I haven’t been very consistent these past two years, with both my writing and with keeping in touch with everyone I’ve met online. If you’re reading this and I haven’t spoken to you in a while, know this: I will be getting in touch with you soon. I haven’t forgotten the amazing people I call friends.

If you folks will have me, I’d love to catch up with everyone I haven’t talked to during my absence. I want to make one thing very, very clear— me being gone was never about me not wanting to talk to the people on here or participate in this community. The thing I regret the most about being gone is leaving people in the dark. If my absence has in any way, shape, or form hurt you, I cannot begin to apologize enough from the bottom of my heart. That was never my intention, although intentions don’t fix the hurt caused.

I want to discuss the reason for my absence, so please bear in mind that I’m not trying to excuse being gone— just explain why.

Some of you may know that I have three diagnosed mental conditions that have mostly been manageable through medication and therapy. When I first started writing online, I was halfway through undergrad and I wanted a place where I could put my writing so people might enjoy it. I found that pretty quickly on Ao3. As I worked on getting my writing degree, I would spend hours and hours working on what became ASID. I was thrilled beyond belief when ASID drew in readers who left wonderful comments.

I have a huge amount of love in my heart for everyone who has ever read any of my works, and I wouldn’t change anything about that. Ever. But as I graduated from college, I started noticing that my mental health was on a sharp decline that it hadn’t been on since high school. I tried to keep it at bay for a while, because I was sure I would bounce back.

I did not.

I began to take small breaks as I jumped into graduate school. I feel very purposeless without school in the background of my life; I’d gotten a degree that a lot of people in my life implied was useless, and with every break I took I felt more and more like an imposter. What’s a writer who doesn’t write? Had I gotten my degree for nothing? I trudged on through grad school and received my Masters in May. It still didn’t feel right. I felt like a failure.

Every time I logged on to talk to friends or check my comments, a voice in the back of my head kept popping up. I was getting older and less motivated. Life outside of undergrad hit me all at once. Nothing I wrote felt good enough to post. The amount of debt I was in already made me ill, and I went through four years of schooling just to feel like the degree I earned was for nothing.

There’s a weird misconception that artists have to be suffering to make good art. We have to be low to do our best. And I was low, lower than I had been since the absolute worst days of my life, and I still couldn’t produce anything. The pain wasn’t enough to jump-start me. What worth did I have, then? What worth does someone who has put their heart into their writing have if they can’t write anymore?

I mistakenly felt like I was an imposter among genuine people, like the friends I had made and the writers I admired were on the other side of a window, in a place I couldn’t get into. When the pandemic rolled around, things had already been teetering on the edge. I won’t sit here and pretend that I got hit any worse than anyone else during 2020— I had a roof over my head and a place to go during my state’s lockdown. But there was ample time, and yet I still wasn’t writing. I couldn’t even do that right. I had to rawdog my mental illness for a stretch, live in a town where the worst trauma of my life had happened to me, and feel like a total, complete, garbage failure every single day. Logging in was more and more of a reminder that I was dead weight.

Financially, I wasn’t doing much better. In the past year or so, I’ve had to provide for myself living on my own on an nonprofits’s pay (not much), as well as occasionally provide for my uncle. I’d thought that by my mid-twenties my life would be different; that I’d be better. In the last few months, it’s become clear that I require surgery for something that may not yet be able to be covered by my insurance; my options now are to wait for it to progress and get worse for coverage or pay out of pocket for the surgery sooner. It’s likely I will need a second one afterwards to completely correct my issues.

For a while, that just made the idea of writing again feel selfish. Why spend time interacting with the community when I should be working to make money because I wasn’t eligible for the stimulus? Why sit down and write something that I would probably just scrap anyway? There’s a lot of other more personal things that happened during my absence that I won’t delve into, including the passing of our family dog. I’m sorry if this seems vague as well, or if it appears that I’m just trying to make excuses— I’m not. Ever since I was younger, I’ve always kind of receded in on myself any time I feel anxious or like a phony. I know it’s not a good habit.

So that’s why I’m here right now, writing this. If I could go back and tell myself that those things I thought about myself weren’t true— that I deserve to have fun in this community and I deserve to talk to the people I care about— I would. But unfortunately, I can’t do that. All I can do is move forward.

I’m not going to sit here and promise that things will be the way that they were back when I first started; not right away, at least. But as of lately I’ve been letting myself peek at my Tumblr dash every so often or log into my Ao3 to see my comments. Those things used to scare me— and they still kind of do right now— but I can’t let them anymore. Joining this community is one of the best things I have ever done. I mean that. The people I’ve met, the comments I’ve received, hell even the discourse I’ve jumped in on— I wouldn’t trade any of it. Things might be overwhelming for a little bit as I adjust to being back after so long, but I want to be here. I want to let myself be happy again.

If you’ve read this far— thank you. Thank you so much for your love and for your patience. Like I said before, I cannot stress enough that my absence was because of myself alone and had nothing to do with my amazing friends on here or the community. If I haven’t messaged you in a long time— again, I apologize. I really, really did drop off. But the only way I can be better at being consistent with the people I care about is by holding myself accountable, not shrinking away.

It may take me a few days to really sort through all of my unread messages and comments and asks and give them the attention they deserve. But I promise, I’ll reach out to everyone whenever I’ve taken the time to do so. Thank you all for being there even when I am not.

Tl;dr—Mentally and financially, I’ve been struggling a lot this past year. I fell back into bad habits of receding into myself and leaving people in the dark, and I really wish I hadn’t. I’d love to be a more active part of this community again. I love all of you so, so much. 

[96thdayofrage]

Instead of sharing in the outrage of Nia’s brutal murder, they came with fury for being tagged in a post that they felt challenged their own perceived feminist accomplishments. There were grand displays of defensiveness, demands that they be acknowledged for all the things they had done for black people in the past, and a terrifying lashing out that included racial slurs and doxing.

The fragility of these women was not a surprise to me. In a crucial moment of showing up for our marginalized community, there was more concern about their feelings and ego as opposed to the fight forward for women as a whole. What could have been a much-needed and integral display of solidarity and true intersectionality quickly became a live play-by-play of the toxicity that white-centered feminism can bring to the table of activism.

It is the type of behavior that rests under the guise of feminism only as long as it is comfortable, only as long it is personally rewarding, only as long as it keeps "on brand." But if the history of this movement taught us anything, it is that intersectionality in feminism is vital. We cannot forget the ways that suffragettes dismissed the voices of black women, sending them to the backs of their marches, only for black activists like Ida B. Wells and Anna Julia Cooper to make major moves while fighting for the vote in tandem with their fight for rights as black people—ultimately shifting the shape of this country. If there is not the intentional and action-based inclusion of women of color, then feminism is simply white supremacy in heels.

Going up against liberal progressive white feminists who refuse to let down their guard of “ultimate liberation” to actually learn from women of color—who have been fighting this fight with grit and grace for generations—is the most straining part being a black feminist activist. Still, as disheartening as the actions of many of these women who were "called in" became, my highest hope is that this bizarre episode serves as a lesson, a dissection if you will, of what toxic white feminism actually looks like. Let's take a dive into a few of the items in The Toxic White Feminism Playbook:

TONE POLICING

When women of color begin to cry out about their pain, frustration, and utter outrage with the system that is continuing to allow our men to be murdered, our babies to be disregarded, and our livelihood to be dismissed, we are often met with white women who tell us perhaps we should “say things a little nicer” if we want to be respected and heard.

SPIRITUAL BYPASSING

The easiest way for white women to skirt around the realities of racism is to just “love and light it away”. When confronted with ways they have offended a marginalized group with their words or actions, they immediately start to demand unity and peace; painting those they harmed as aggressive, mean, or divisive.

WHITE SAVIOR COMPLEX

Many white women insist that there is no way they could be part of the problem because of their extensive resume of what they’ve “done for you people.” Instead of listening to what the women of color are trying to express, they instead whip out the Nice Things I’ve Done For Black People In The Past, which often includes everything from “says hi to the black man next door every single morning” to “saved a black child through adoption and treats them just as nicely as my white children.”

This is the most common of all. White women get so caught up in how they feel in a moment of black women expressing themselves that they completely vacuum the energy, direction, and point of the conversation to themselves and their feelings. They start to explain why race is hard for them to talk about, what they think would be a better solution to the topic at hand, and perhaps what women of color can do to make it more palatable.

As these things play out over and over again, it is made painfully obvious that many white women believe that the worst thing that can happen to them is to be called a racist. Let me be clear, it is not. Seeing your child gunned down in the street by the police unjustly is much worse, being turned away for medical care due to race and underlying biases by medical staff, resulting in death, is much worse, being harassed by authorities only to be charged yourself instead is much worse.

But even moments of explicit dehumanization to the black community haven’t been able to rally the majority of liberal white women to join us in our fight for racial justice. I've learned through my work that white women seem to only digest race issues when it is reframed in the light of (white) feminism. So I often have to lay it out this way:

When you try to exclude yourself from the conversation of race by saying things like “I don’t see color,” or “I married a black man and have brown kids,” that's just as irrational as a man saying there is no way he could be sexist or misogynistic because he has a daughter.

When you seek to not be lumped into the conversation about oppressive systems against marginalized people, because you view yourself as woke, you are essentially screaming “not all men.”

When you try to rationalize police brutality by saying “but black people also kill black people,” you’re coming in with the same argument that men have when they say “she shouldn’t have worn that skirt, she deserves to be raped”.

When you walk into black or brown spaces and “suggest” how they can more aptly reach white people on the topic of race you are basically mansplaining, only now it's whitesplaining how people of color should approach their own activism.

When you begin to feel defensive about the conversation of race, demanding explanations, it is like a man walking into a women’s space saying: “Make me feel more comfortable in this moment, even though the point of this space is sorting out how I make you feel uncomfortable everyday in multiple ways.”

So what does allyship actually look like? Accepting the reality of this country's dynamics. White skin yields white privilege and an ally is willing to use their privilege to fight with and for those who are marginalized. Allyship means voting for elected officials who have a track record of ensuring the most marginalized among us are heard and advocated for. Allyship means using your sphere of influence whether it be your dining room table or the boardroom of your company to call out racist actions and ideals. Allyship means uplifting the voices and experiences of people of color so that we are not continuously drowned out and ignored.

"Many liberal white woman have an immediate reaction of defense when someone challenges their intentions."

What makes allyship so hard for most? Many liberal white woman have an immediate reaction of defense when someone challenges their intentions. And it is in that precise moment they need to stop and realize they are actually part of the problem. It is never the offender who gets to decide when they've offended someone. If you feel yourself dismissing the words or experiences of people of color—because you think they're "overreacting" or because you "didn't know" or because "it has nothing to do with race"—it's often due to your ego, not rationale. Listen and learn, instead.

Dr. Robin DiAngelo, a white woman sociologist who studies critical discourse, reminds us in her new book White Fragility that “the key to moving forward is what we do with our discomfort. We can use it as a door out—blame the messenger and disregard the message. Or we can use it as a door in by asking, Why does this unsettle me? What would it mean for me if this were true?”

Racism is as American as pie. In order for the feminist movement to truly be progressive and intersectional, white women must face this fact and begin to take on their load of work. We are long overdue to dismantle this system, which, if it is not intentionally and aggressively addressed, will defeat us all in the end.

[qqueenofhades]

I want to hear about gay knights. Please.

Ahaha. So this is me finally getting, post-holiday, to the subject that was immediately clamoured for, when I volunteered to discuss the historical accuracy of gay knights if someone requested it. It reminds me somewhat of when my venerable colleague @oldshrewsburyian​ volunteered to discuss lesbian nuns, and was immediately deluged by requests to do just that. In my opinion, gay knights and lesbian nuns are the mlm/wlw solidarity of the Middle Ages, even if the tedious constructionists would like to remind us that we can’t exactly use those terms for them. It also forces us to consider the construction of modern heterosexuality, our erroneous notions of it as hegemonically transhistorical, and the fact that behaviour we would consider “queer” (and therefore implicitly outside mainstream society) was not just mainstream, but central, valorized, and crucial to constructions of medieval manhood, if not without existential anxieties of its own. Because medieval societies were often organized around the chivalric class, i.e. the king and his knights, his ability to make war, and the cultural prestige and homosocial bonds of his retinue, if you were a knight, you were (increasingly as the medieval era went on) probably a person of some status. You had a consequential role to play in this world, and your identity was the subject of legal, literary, cultural, social, religious, and other influences. And a lot of that was also, let’s face it, what the 21st century would consider Kinda Gay.

The central bond in society, the glue that made it work, was the relationships between soldiers, battlefield brotherhoods, and the intense, self-sacrifical love for the other that is familiar to anyone who has ever watched a war movie, and dates back (in explicitly gay form, at least) to the Sacred Band of Thebes. Medieval society had a careful and contested interaction with this ideal and this kind of relationship between men. Because they needed it for the successful prosecution of military ventures, they held it up as the best kind of love, to which the love of a woman could never entirely aspire, but that also ran the risk of the possibility of it turning (homo)sexual. Same-sex sexual activity was well-known in the Middle Ages, the end, full stop. The use of penitentials, or confessors’ handbooks, as sources for views or practices of queer sexual behaviour has been criticised (you will swiftly find that almost EVERYTHING used as a source for queer history is criticised, shockingly), but there remains the fact that Burchard of Worms’ 11th-century Decretum, a vast compilation of canon law, mentions same-sex behaviour among its list of sins, but assigns it a comparatively light penance. (I don’t have the actual passage handy, but it’s a certain amount of days of fasting on bread and water.) It assigns much heavier penalties for Burchard’s main concern, which was sorcery and the practice of un-Christian beliefs, rituals, or other persistent holdovers from paganism. This is not to say that homosexuality was accepted, per se, but it was known about, it must have happened enough for priests to list in their handbooks of sins, and it wasn’t The End of The World. Frankly, I am tired of having to argue that queer people existed and engaged in queer activity in the Middle Ages (not directed at you, but in general). Of course they did. Obviously they did. Moving on!

Anyway. Returning to gay knights specifically, the fact remained that if you encouraged two dudes to love each other beyond all other bonds, they might, you know, actually bang. This was worrisome, especially in the twelfth century, as explored by Matthew Kuefler, ‘Male Friendship and the Suspicion of Sodomy in Twelfth-Century France’ and Ruth Mazo Karras, ‘Knighthood, Compulsory Heterosexuality, and Sodomy’ in The Boswell Thesis: Essays on Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality, ed. Matthew Kuefler (Chicago; University of Chicago Press, 2006), pp. 179-214 and 273-86. I have written a couple papers (in the ever-tedious process of one day being turned into journal articles) on the subject of the Extremely Queer Richard the Lionheart, some material of which can be found in my tag for him. Richard’s queerness has been argued over for a long time, we all throw rotten banana peels at John Gillingham who took it upon himself to deny, ignore, or minimize all the evidence, but anyway. Richard was a very masculine and powerful man and formidably talented soldier who could not be reduced to the stereotype of the effeminate, weak, or impotent sodomite, and the fact that he was a prince, a duke, and a king was probably why he was repeatedly able to get away with it. But he wasn’t alone, and he wasn’t the only one. He was very much part of his culture and time, even if he kept running into ecclesiastical reprisals for it. It happened. If you want a published discussion that covers some of my points (though not all of them), there is William E. Burgwinkle, ‘The Curious Case of Richard the Lionheart’, in Sodomy, Masculinity, and Law in Medieval Literature: France and England, 1050-1230 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), pp. 73–85. Also on the overall topic, Robert Mills, Seeing Sodomy in the Middle Ages (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015). 

Peter the Chanter, a Parisian cleric, also wrote De vitio sodomitico, a chapter of his Verbum abbreviatum, fulminating against “men with men, women with women [masculi cum masculis […] mulieres cum mulieribus]” which apparently happened far too often for his liking in twelfth-century Paris (along with cross-dressing and other genderqueer behaviour; the Latin version of this can be found in ‘Verbum Abbreviatum: De vitio sodomitico’ in Patrologia Latina, ed. Jacques-Paul Migne (Paris: 1855), vol. 205, pp. 333–35). Moving into the thirteenth and especially fourteenth centuries, this bond only grew in importance, and involved a new kind of anxiety. Richard Zeikowitz’s book, Homoeroticism and Chivalry: Discourses of Male Same-Sex Desire in the 14th Century (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), explores this discourse in detail, and points out that the intensely homoerotic element of chivalry was deeply embedded in medieval culture – and that this was something that was not queer, i.e. unusual, to them. It is modern audiences who see this behaviour as somehow contravening our expected stereotypes of medieval knights as Ultra Manly No Homo Men. When we label this “medieval queerness,” we are also making a judgment about our own expectations, and the way in which we ourselves have normalized one narrow and rigid view of masculinity.

England then had two queer kings in the 14th century, Edward II and Richard II, both of whom ended up deposed. These were for other political reasons, but their queerness was not irrelevant to assessments of their character and the reactions of their contemporaries. Sylvia Federico (‘Queer Times: Richard II in the Poems and Chronicles of Late Fourteenth-Century England’, Medium Aevum 79 (2010), 25–46) has studied the corpus of queer-coded historical writing around Richard, and noted that while the Lancastrian propaganda postdating the usurpation of Henry IV in 1399 obviously had an intent to cast his predecessor in as unfit a light as possible, the accusations of queerness started during Richard’s reign, “well before any real practical design on the throne […] and well before the famous lapse into tyranny that characterized the reign’s last few years. In poems and chronicles produced from the mid-1380s to the early 1390s, and in language that is highly charged with homophobic references, Richard II is marked as unfit to rule”. E. Amanda McVitty (‘False Knights and True Men: Contesting Chivalric Masculinity in English Treason Trials, 1388–1415,’ Journal of Medieval History 40 (2014), 458–77) examined how the treason trials of high-status individuals centred on a symbolic deconstruction of his chivalric manhood, demoting and exiling him from the intricate homosocial networks that governed the creation and performance of medieval masculinity.

This appears to have been a fairly extensive phenomenon, and one not confined to the geopolitical space of England. Henric Bagerius and Christine Ekholst (‘Kings and Favourites: Politics and Sexuality in Late Medieval Europe’, Journal of Medieval History 43 (2017), 298–319) traced the use of ‘discursive sodomy’ as a rhetorical tool employed against five late medieval monarchs, including Richard II and his great-grandfather Edward II, John II and Henry IV of Castile, and Magnus Eriksson of Sweden. In all cases, the ruler in question was viewed as emotionally and possibly sexually dependent on another man, subject to his evil counsels and treacherous wiles, and this reflected a communal anxiety that the body of the king himself – and thus the body politic – had been unacceptably queered. Nonetheless, as a divinely anointed figure and the head of state, the accusations of gender displacement or suspected sodomy could not be placed directly on the king, and were instead deflected onto the favourites themselves, generally characterised as greedy, grasping men of ignoble birth, who subverted both social and sexual order by their domination of the supposedly passive king. 

None of this polemic produced by hostile sources can be read as direct confirmation of the private and physical actions of the kings behind closed doors, but in a sense, this is immaterial. The intimate lives of presumably heterosexual individuals are constructed on the same standards of evidence and to much greater certainty.  In other words, queerness and queer/gay favourites could not have functioned as a textual metaphor or charged accusation if there was not some understanding of it as a lived behaviour. After all, if the practice did not physically exist or was not considered as a potential reality, there could have been no anxieties around the possibility of its improper prosecution.

This leads us nicely into the deeply vexed question of adelphopoiesis, or the “brother-making” ceremony argued by some, including John Boswell, as a medieval form of gay marriage. (Boswell, who died of AIDS in 1994, published the landmark Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality in 1980, and among other things, controversially argued that the medieval Catholic church was a vehicle for social acceptance of gay people.) Boswell’s critics have fiercely attacked this stance, claiming that the ceremony was only intended to join two men together in a celibate sibling-like relationship. A Straight Historian who participated in a modern version of the ceremony in 1985 actually argued that since she had no sexual inclinations or motives in taking part, clearly it was never used for that purpose by medieval men either. (Pause for sighing.) 

The problem is: we can’t argue intentions or private actions either way. We can understand what the idealized and legal designation for the ceremony was intended to be, but we cannot then outrageously claim that every historical individual who took part in it did so for the party line reason. Maybe medieval men who joined together in brother-making ceremonies did live a celibate and saintly life (this would not be surprising). It seems ludicrous to argue, however, that none of them were romantically in love with each other, or that they never ever ever had sex, because surprise, formulaic documents and institutional guidelines cannot tell us anything about the actions of real individuals making complex choices. Even if this was not always a homosexual institution (and once again with the dangerous practice of equivocating queerness with explicitly practiced and “provable” sexual behaviour), it was beyond all reasonable doubt a homoromantic one, and one sanctioned and organised according to well-known medieval conventions, desires (for two men to live together and love each other above all) and anxieties (that they might then have sex).

The medieval men who took a ‘brother’ would probably not have seen it as a marriage, or as the kind of household formation or social contract implied in a heterosexual union, but as we have also discussed, the definition of marriage in the Middle Ages was under constant contestation anyway.  The church was constantly anxious about knights: their violence, their (oftentimes) lack of religiosity, their proclivity for tournaments, swearing, drinking, and other immoral behaviour, the possibility of them having sexual affairs with each other and/or with women (though Andreas Capellanus, in De amore, wrote an entire spectacularly misogynistic handbook about how to have the right kind of love affair with a woman and dismissed same-sex relationships in one sentence as gross and unworthy, so he was clearly the No Homo Bro Knight of his day). So, as this has gotten long: gay knights were basically one of the central social, religious, and cultural concerns of the entire Middle Ages, due to their position in society, their necessity in a warlike culture, the social influence of chivalry and their tendency to bad behaviour, their perceived influence over the king (who they may also have given their Gay Cooties), their disregard of the church’s teachings, and the ever-present possibility that their love wasn’t celibate. So yes. Gay knights: Hella Historically Accurate.

The end.

[beca-mitchell]

if you wanted to, girl, we could cross that line (1/1)

Summary: Aren't you supposed to book the wedding venue after proposing? Word count: 3,316 words Author’s Notes: I’ve been thinking about recent discussion re: Chloe and Beca's relationship. Specifically how Chloe hates it when people think Beca is some uncaring/apathetic person. Or that Beca is aloof and distant in their romantic relationship. I had some ideas about that, but then it kind of spiralled into this which I don't even know if it addresses any of that discourse at all. But. Anyway. I've been binging Friends, so yes, this is totally inspired by Season 6, episode 22 (and a little of episode 23) of Friends. Fic title from Lauv's "Feelings".

Read below or on AO3.

* * * * *

��Aubrey this place is beautiful,” Chloe gasps, looking around the high ceilings and well-decorated walls of the country club lounge. “You’re really thinking about moving The Lodge to California?”

Aubrey flips through the brochure, nodding along to Chloe’s words. “It seems like a natural choice. Would be nice to expand out here. Lots of companies need their morale boosted.”

Chloe nudges Aubrey. “I’m happy for you, you know? You’ve done so much in the past few years.”

“Chloe,” Aubrey sighs. “Thank you.”

“And I’m so glad you didn’t move to Mykonos and become a doula.”

Aubrey frowns. “I don’t remember saying that.” She flips to the next page of her brochure. “Oh! Chloe, look! They host weddings here!”

Chloe shifts to lean over Aubrey’s shoulder to examine the glossy pages. “Oh wow, I’m sure they must be beautiful here. Expensive too. Oh!” Chloe points to the next page. “They can even host guests overnight.”

“Perfect for corporate retreats,” Aubrey muses.

“Or weddings,” Chloe says, tugging Aubrey’s arm along. “Just think about it. A beautiful day...a little bit of a breeze." Chloe sighs, somewhat wistfully, lost in her own world for a moment. "You’d look beautiful in the dress I have picked out for you.”

“Oh is this your wedding we’re talking about?”

To Aubrey’s immense surprise, Chloe glances away, clearly embarrassed. “I mean. It could be anybody’s wedding. I was just. Throwing it out there. You know.”

“Were you picturing yourself in the wedding dress?”

Again, hesitation from Chloe. “...Maybe.”

Aubrey moves so she’s standing in front of Chloe. “Hey, what’s this all about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You,” Aubrey gestures with a stern tone. “Getting all weird and shy about weddings of all things.”

It wasn’t that Chloe was fanatic about weddings, it was more that Aubrey knew Chloe was a complete romantic. And passionate about literally everything, on top of that. Plus, Aubrey, in her capacity as Chloe’s de facto best friend, knew just how much Chloe wanted a fairytale wedding. It was something that some people grew out of—Aubrey would know, being all about practicality—but it was also something that followed people and nestled within their hopes and dreams like a permanent reminder of what optimism and sunshine could bring.

Chloe is the embodiment of both of those things and Aubrey is fortunate enough to have experienced such a person in her lifetime.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Chloe begins, going for nonchalance which Aubrey disregards completely. “I just. I—I’ve been dating Beca for a year and a half. And then soon it’s going to be two years. And then...more.”

“That’s how time works, usually.”

Chloe glares at her. “It’s just. Beca isn’t...I don’t think she wants to get married.”

“Has she said that to you?” Aubrey demands, surprised that even Beca of all people would have so little tact to say that to Chloe specifically. Chloe who has had her wedding planned since she was in second grade. Chloe, who would go to the ends of the earth for Beca Mitchell’s smug, talented ass.

“No! No, God, Beca is amazing. And she—” Chloe sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I know what you’re thinking and it’s what everybody thinks. Beca isn’t like that, okay? She loves me and she’s in love with me. There’s no doubt about it.” Aubrey shoots her a skeptical look. “You’re so unfair,” Chloe complains, upon seeing Aubrey’s expression. “She’s an amazing girlfriend. Honestly. Everybody thinks that she’s this distant, emotionless little...” Chloe makes a noise of frustration. “Well, she’s not. She’s passionate and beautiful and so so good at that thing she—”

“Chloe!”

Chloe blushes. “Sorry. But it’s not that. I promise.”

“Then where did...all this come from?”

“Well, I just don’t want to...freak her out.”

“Freak her out,” Aubrey echoes, contemplating the word choice and wondering whether she really does need to talk to Beca about her lack of decorum. “Has she said that to you?” she demands again.

“No!”

“Then—?”

“I just. I know I can be a lot, okay? I know that I want things too much sometimes. And that I can get loud and crazy about things. But I want to…” Chloe glances around. “I want to spend the rest of my life with Beca and I don’t want anything to mess that up.”

“Why would you two getting married mess that up?”

“Um? Hello? Has she not complained about her parents before?”

Aubrey can concede to that. “Once or twice. But I mean...we’re not all defined by our parents’ mistakes.” Chloe shoots her a look. “Okay, you know what? This isn’t about me.”

Chloe giggles, relenting. She kicks her toe against the ground, following the movement with her eyes. “I just know that Beca isn’t thinking about getting married. We just moved in together.”

“Like two months ago,” Aubrey mutters.

“More like four months ago!”

“Oh, but who’s counting?”

Chloe flashes a quick smile. “Yeah, it’s been four months hasn’t it?” She softens. “I love living with Beca. And I love L.A.! Oh—and of course I love that you’re going to be moving here.” She pulls Aubrey in for a quick hug, right in the middle of the hall. “It’s just...everything is coming together. I love my life just the way it is.”

“Chloe—”

It is that moment that a couple decides to make their way through the hall, led by a man holding a clipboard. He appears to be listing off amenities and accommodations.

“—host many weddings a year, especially during June. You are very lucky to get on the waiting list.”

Chloe, never one to really acknowledge social customs, somehow manages to insert herself into the conversation midway. “Is there a long list?” she asks conversationally, a hint of amusement in her tone. She tugs Aubrey along despite Aubrey’s attempts to mind her own business.

The wedding planner scrutinizes their intertwined hands. “Are you two ladies looking to have a wedding?”

Chloe tilts her head before turning to look at Aubrey with a glint in her eyes. “And if we are?”

“Chloe!” Aubrey hisses.

“Well, the wait list is about two years long, so you’ll have to get in line.”

* * * * *

“What was that about loving your life the way it was?”

“It wasn’t serious. I just won’t ever contact them again.”

“Yes, putting yours and Beca’s names down for a wedding venue wasn’t serious.”

“Think of it as a way to drum up some press for when you host corporate retreats there.”

“How does this help me? This absolutely in no way helps me at all.”

* * * * *

Chloe forgets about her little relapse until two weeks later. She and Beca decide to go for a nice dinner at the country club—a place where Beca can maintain some anonymity while they engage in things that Beca would prefer prying eyes to keep away from.

Namely kissing.

“You haven’t touched your dinner,” Chloe murmurs. She smiles as she catches Beca’s next kiss head-on, tilting her head ever so slightly to elicit the quietest of whimpers from Beca’s throat.

“You haven’t touched yours.”

Chloe tenses her fingers, splayed on Beca’s thigh. “Maybe I’m more interested in my dessert.”

Beca blushes immediately and clears her throat, drawing back to take in Chloe’s swollen lips and playful smile. “I’m so happy that you’re mine,” Beca drawls, reaching up to cup Chloe’s cheeks. “But you have to stop saying shit like that in public.”

“Why do I have to stop saying shit like that in public?” Chloe asks innocently, letting her lips and tongue emphasize the word shit while her hand glides further up Beca’s thigh.

Beca’s eyes darken further. She hums, leaning in to capture Chloe’s lips in another kiss. “You don’t play fair,” she complains when Chloe finally draws back and refocuses on her plate of untouched food.

“But you just get so cute and flustered,” Chloe points out. “How can I resist?”

Later, as they are leaving, Chloe barely has time to recall just why she recognizes the man walking towards them before he is greeting them both.

“Hi, Chloe, right? I just left a message on your phone earlier this evening. I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

Chloe opens her mouth, recognition dawning. “Oh it’s—”

“Hi,” Beca cuts in. “What message?” she asks curiously.

“It’s nothing,” Chloe says quickly, an unpleasant heat spreading quickly through her body. “I’ll check later,” she says politely.

“Of course! It wasn’t anything serious. Just letting you know that your position on the wedding venue waitlist got bumped up because we had a few cancellations in the past two weeks. We’re looking at much sooner than two years. Probably within the next year if you want to remain on the list.”

“The what?” Beca demands. “Chloe, the—” Beca looks like her eyes might pop right out of her head. “Chloe,” she hisses, following as Chloe quickly mutters a thank-you and tugs Beca’s wrist along until they reach Chloe’s car. “What the fu—”

“Don’t curse,” Chloe whispers.

Beca presses her lips into a thin line. “Well, what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Are you mad?”

“I’m just confused,” Beca murmurs, sliding into the passenger seat. “Are we getting married?”

“No!” Chloe exclaims quickly. “No, of course not—”

“Of course not?” Beca echoes. “What—”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just—it was just a dumb thing. Can we…” Chloe rests her hand on the steering wheel. “Can we talk about it when we get home?”

Beca stares out the window for a few long moments while Chloe pulls out on the main road. “Okay,” she finally agrees. “Okay, we’ll talk when we get home.”

The drive home itself is the longest and shortest of Chloe’s life. She shifts uncomfortably more than once, resisting the urge to look over at her girlfriend every two minutes. Scratch that. Every two seconds. She can’t believe that she forgot. That she wasn’t more careful. That a brief, silly moment with her best friend resulted in this. Whatever this is between herself and Beca right now.

It’s the last thing she wants, to have potentially messed something up in their life together.

When Chloe pulls into the private parking lot for their apartment complex, Chloe finds that she doesn’t want to leave the quiet of the car.

“Chlo,” Beca urges softly. “Let’s go inside.”

“I just wanted to see what it was like,” Chloe blurts, too stricken to restrain herself any longer. “I’m sorry.”

Beca reaches out to hold her hand across the console like Chloe wishes she had done during the drive home. The comforting feeling of Beca’s hand in her own makes Chloe look up, finally meeting Beca’s eyes for the first time since leaving the country club.

“Let’s just go inside,” Beca repeats, squeezing her hand.

Chloe hates that she feels too frazzled to correctly read Beca’s expression. She can’t figure out just what Beca is feeling or thinking and she hates that. She hates not knowing the one person she feels like she knows better than any other person on Earth.

“So...like.” Beca exhales, taking the keys from Chloe’s hands and placing them in their little shared bowl. “What did you mean? You just wanted to see what it was like? How do you just see what it’s like to reserve a wedding venue?”

Chloe bites her lip, still afraid to meet Beca’s eyes. She focuses instead on the flowery B&C engraving on their key bowl. It warms her. Comforts her. “I mean...it’s not really a wedding venue. It’s just a country club,” she points out evasively.

Beca snorts. “Where weddings are sometimes hosted.”

“Well. Yeah.”

“And you specifically put your name down—our names down—for a wedding. Sometime in the future.”

Chloe groans at that, covering her face with her hands. “Aubrey pressured me into it,” she lies, wondering if Beca will believe that.

Beca stifles a smile, instead choosing to step closer to Chloe in order to pry her hands from her face. “I bet she did.”

“You’re freaking out,” Chloe mumbles from behind her hands, though she does part two fingers in order to peer at Beca. “You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

“I mean...I was,” Beca admits. “That was kind of…” Beca ponders her word choice. “Sudden,” she finally says with a delicate tone.

Chloe sighs. “I know it freaks you out when I do...stuff like that.”

At that, Beca frowns. “Do stuff like what?”

“I don’t know. Think about the future. Talk about this kind of stuff.”

Beca’s heart seizes for the briefest of moments. “I don’t want you to think that I’m not…” she swallows. “That I’m not, like, into that. Because I am.” She reaches for Chloe’s hands, pulling gently. “With you.” She bites her lower lip. “I hadn’t thought about it much before you, but it—” Beca laughs, a little breathlessly. “It drives me crazy that we haven’t talked about it, you know?”

“I just thought you weren’t…” Chloe shrugs, though her heart pounds at all of the words Beca has just thrown at her. “That it wasn’t something you wanted.”

“That was before you,” Beca reiterates.

Chloe feels a flush rising up her neck and spreading into her cheeks rapidly. “Beca…”

Beca, to her credit, does not flinch nor shy away. Chloe has been privileged enough to get to know this side of Beca over the past year and a half and especially over the past four months of living together. She is smitten and completely head-over-heels for Beca Mitchell and she doesn’t care if anybody knows that. That being said, she completely understands that Beca might not necessarily be the same, at least in terms of expressing herself outwardly (“Love languages are a thing, Beca!”) but she has never doubted that Beca cares for her. Loves her, even.

Beca is in love with her.

The thought only makes her blush again and offer a shy, demure smile at Beca who merely looks perplexed at the sudden change in mood. “What?” Beca asks quickly. “What is it? What did I say?”

“Nothing,” Chloe chimes in, shifting so that she can wrap an arm around Beca’s shoulders. “Well, not nothing. For you, that was basically a public and cheesy romantic gesture. Like declaration-on-a-billboard level.”

Beca scrunches her nose. “What was?”

Chloe pecks her quickly, enjoying how squirmy Beca is becoming in her arms. “You saying that you think about the future with me.”

“I don’t know if I said it exactly like that.”

“A little like that,” Chloe pushes. She leans in to kiss Beca slowly, letting her breath linger against Beca’s mouth. “A little bit,” she murmurs when she feels Beca take a breath, likely to protest again.

“Okay, maybe I did.”

Chloe relaxes completely, wondering how she got so lucky to fall in love with her perfect match; how she got so lucky to find her soulmate in a world full of people who refused to believe in love like she did. That was a relatively painless conversation, resulting in some unexpected results. Namely that Chloe had been the only one standing in the way of this much-needed conversation, but also that Beca Mitchell wanted to marry her.

The thought only makes Chloe deepen her kiss, eliciting a noise of surprise from Beca. They kiss for a few more moments, hands beginning to wander more boldly and surely as their kisses deepen with each passing second. Beca groans when Chloe’s hands slip under the front of her shirt, fingers scraping up her stomach with purpose.

“Are we still talking about this?” Beca asks, snagging Chloe’s lower lip between her teeth.

Chloe hums, tilting her head to capture Beca’s lips in another kiss. “That can wait.”

“I mean,” Beca begins breathlessly, allowing Chloe to steer her towards the bedroom. “You are next on the waitlist.”

Chloe is already unbuttoning her jeans. “You talk way too much. Shut up, now. I want you.”

* * * * *

Another two weeks later and Chloe has all but forgotten about that wedding venue mishap, too caught up in the motions of her own hectic life and just how good her relationship with Beca has become. She hadn’t thought it possible, but she falls more for Beca every day.

“I can’t believe my girlfriend is ditching me to hang out with my best friend,” Chloe pouts. “This is so unfair. My two favorite people.”

“You could come,” Beca laughs.

“No, you know I have a long shift today.” Chloe sighs. “I’ll miss you. Say hi to Aubrey for me. I know she’s been busy setting up work stuff. Ask her if she needs our help.”

“I will ask her if she needs your help,” Beca says obediently.

“Our help,” Chloe corrects, leaning down to kiss Beca on the lips. “See you!”

Chloe heads out the door, without much thought as to the rest of her day.

Beca waits until she hears complete silence, then she waits for another few minutes estimating how long it would take Chloe to get into her car and drive.

Beca she’s gone, hurry up and get over here

Aubrey Rude. On my way.

Beca rushes to get ready in preparation for her day with Aubrey.

“What did you think of the place?” Aubrey asks when Beca climbs into the car. “Did you like the photos?”

“Yeah, but I kind of want to see it for myself. In person.”

Aubrey scoffs. “Chloe has amazing taste and so do I. We would never lead you astray.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “Forgive me for wanting to see the place where I want to get married myself.”

“Beca, you don’t exactly strike me as the kind of person—”

Beca resists the urge to completely snap at Aubrey or say something snarky to cut off the other woman. She fiddles with the small box inside her jacket pocket before she pulls it out, running her fingers along the velvet surface. She smiles at the thought of Chloe’s expression—what her imagination provides at least—and suddenly she can’t quite wait another moment. She wants to marry Chloe immediately. She wants everything that she always thought she’d hate because of her parents’ own failed marriage. She wants that life and that future with Chloe and she wants it because she knows it’ll work.

It will work because they love each other.

Aubrey gasps loudly, pulling the car off to the side of the road and throwing her hazard lights on. “Beca! You didn’t!” She all but snatches the box from Beca’s grasp, both of them tussling over it for a brief moment before Aubrey finally shoves her shoulder and displaces Beca back into her seat. “Oh my God, you actually bought a ring. Without talking to me. Beca! How could you!”

“I didn’t know I needed your permission to buy a ring.”

Aubrey ignores her, opening the box. Her eyes widen comically and if Beca’s heart weren’t completely in her throat because it is now dawning on Beca that she absolutely craves Aubrey’s approval, Beca would laugh. But she doesn’t. She waits with bated breath as Aubrey lifts the ring closer to her face, eyes practically glittering.

“Are you...okay?” Beca asks. Is it okay? she wants to ask, but refrains.

“This is...beautiful, Beca. This is so beautiful.”

Beca exhales, feeling an entire year’s worth of tension leave her body. “For real? Like you’re not just...saying that, right?”

“No, Beca, I’m not just saying that. This is beautiful. And...and I’m so happy for you.” Aubrey presses the ring back into Beca’s hands before moving to grip the steering wheel with determination.

Beca waits, watching Aubrey for a long moment before she speaks up again. “Are we gonna go, or—?”

“I just need a moment to collect myself.”

“Oh, okay.” Beca flips the box open again, smiling at the ring. “Take all the time you need.”

She has never been more ready.

fin.

[captainscanadian]

Hope | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 1)

 My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: Being back in your childhood home had certainly brought you some well-needed inspiration. 

Word Count: 2900+

Pairing: (Eventual) Doctor!Bucky Barnes x Patient!Reader, OMC Harry Nelson x FWB!Reader, Rebecca Barnes x OFC Rosie Bender

Warnings: Heartbreak, Bullying, Grey’s Anatomy Spoilers

A/N: This fic was my entry for @wkemeup​‘s 4K Writing Challenge. I DON’T DO TAGLISTS!

When Harry Nelson had first moved to Los Angeles at the age of eighteen, he’d had many dreams of becoming a screenwriter and director. He wanted to make movies that seemed relatable to the general public, with no action sequences or elements of science-fiction, no monsters  or magic, no million dollar budget to be spent on visual effects. Just simple stories about real people, whether it was the kind that made them laugh or the kind that made them cry.

Throughout the span of his twenty-year long career in Hollywood, he had come to realize that the genre of romance movies had their own built-in audience that he could definitely make money off of. The hopeless romantics, as he liked to call them, were a group of people who were always longing to see love stories that don’t necessarily end happily, but still leave them believing that true love existed. 

While he had since directed several romance films that went on to have the cultural impact in the likes of Notting Hill and The Notebook, it hadn’t been until he had met another hopeless romantic did he realize that he was one of them. For a man who never believed in true love, he sure enjoyed love stories. He was a hopeless romantic, as much as he hated to admit it. Whether his story was going to end happily or not, he still had a part to play in it. 

Back when the first instalment of the Hopeless series had turned out to be a success, Harry had simply approached you in request of the movie rights to your novel series. While you hadn’t given in to his request due to not knowing how you might even end the series yourself, he decided to play the long game and wait until you figured out the ending. 

Years had gone by and the two of you had only become best friends, bonding over your mutual love for the romance genre. Many movie nights were spent watching the classics such as Casablanca and Breakfast at Tiffany’s. He had invited you to his premieres and parties, to simply take part in the discourse of what it meant to write a beautiful love story that stood beyond its time. But the friendship you shared had turned to something more when you had found yourselves drunk at an after-party and consumed by lust of all things and not love as one would have assumed. 

Even though becoming one of the love interests in your story had certainly not been his plan all along, he couldn’t complain about it either. A newly single romance novelist and a divorced filmmaker with a knack for romance getting involved with each other was not the strangest thing to take place in Hollywood, not even when you had a ten year age difference. You had kept your arrangement as secretive as you could though, for you did not need the prying eyes of the media to ruin what you had. 

By the time the third instalment had been published, no one had suspected that the muse behind Dr. Jake Winston was Harry Nelson himself. Harry had seemed to figure it out early on though, when you had let him have a glimpse of the first draft. But when he gave you his approval to go ahead with the story, you had made him promise you that he would play the role he helped create if your novels were ever made into movies. Harry had been delighted to accept that if he were to make his acting debut, it would be as one of the love interests of Hope Anderson. 

Being the man who taught you what it felt like to be safe in a relationship, he had always given you a way out of your friendship with benefits. After all, the strings had never been attached to begin with. But that was a path you did not think you would want to take, at least not until now. 

Not that the two of you had managed to drive each other crazy like most Hollywood couples. As unsurprising as that would have been, you felt that you really needed a break from living the California dream and that included what you had with Harry. 

With the fourth and final instalment of your series being due in just a few more months, you found yourself hitting a brick wall with where you wanted Hope Anderson’s story to go. Writer’s block was a curse that you hadn’t really experienced with the last three novels. But inspiration for the fourth novel had just not struck. 

You were well aware that your readers were longing for a happy ending for the girl who had spent a majority of her life being heartbroken. For a strong and career-driven woman like herself, she could easily find someone to settle down with. But that wasn’t what you wanted when it came to the ending of your series. 

You wanted Hope to find some kind of purpose for the journey that she had taken since leaving her hometown for college. You wanted things to be right for her, even if they weren’t necessarily right for you. There needed to be a purpose behind her journey, that was meant to be fulfilled in the final book. 

It had been Harry’s suggestion, being a fellow writer himself, that it might be plausible if the fourth novel took a rather ‘coming-of-age’ kind of path compared to the last three instalment. Reid made her realize that she had moved on too soon, Ethan made her realize that love was messy, and Jake made her realize that there are good men in this world. Neither of these men had been right for her, but then who was? 

“I think our girl Hope needs to go home.” Harry had suggested one night in the midst of your pillow talk. “She hasn’t been home in ten years. I think she needs a little trip of self-discovery, a walk down memory lane… she needs to find herself in order to find her one true love.” 

“What makes you think that she’ll find her true love when she finds herself?” You had asked him, curiously. 

“There’s only one way to find out.” 

The air was crisp as you stepped out of your Uber and grabbed your suitcases from the trunk, leaving a heavy tip for the driver at the end of this dreadfully quiet ride from Indianapolis International Airport to your humble home in Shelbyville, Indiana. 

Being back in this little city after an entire decade in the West Coast sure brought back the good old days for a moment there. But when the cold breeze hit you, you were reminded why you had fled your hometown in the first place. Certainly, you had gotten used to the California sun. But who could blame you though? This place was hell on earth. 

As you dragged your suitcases up the driveway, you could not help but look around the neighborhood that you had grown up in. It seemed as though nothing had changed in the last ten years. Or perhaps, it was just the nostalgia of being back here that made it seem as though everything was still the same when it wasn’t. 

Old man Nick who lived next door still had his ratty old truck parked out front - was that thing still kicking; you couldn’t believe it. The last you heard, his daughters Carol and Maria had moved out to Indianapolis after college and visited the man every now and then. Apparently, he refused to leave Shelbyville as he had lived there his whole life. His wife had lived and died at that house, and he could not see himself leaving behind the memory of her. 

The girls had asked your mother to keep an eye on him, and she had kept an eye on him because she seemed to be the only one in the neighborhood he trusted. Your mother had told you that they were bonding over their mutual empty nest syndrome, but not even her attempt to guilt trip you had brought you back here. 

You hadn’t even bothered to come back here when you had found out that your mother was ill. You had flown her out to Los Angeles instead, and did the best you could to give her the medical care she needed at one of the best hospitals in the country. 

Not even when she had passed away did you ever try to come back and take care of the house she’d left behind for you. You just hated everything about Shelbyville, Indiana, to ever come back. 

But nothing like a little writer’s block to bring you back here. 

You made a mental note to leave a rather sarcastic voicemail for Harry, for convincing you to fly out here on your own and facing a part of your life that you never wanted to return to. God, you hated him sometimes, mostly because he was always right and he seemed to know it. You loved him too. Not the kind of love that destroys you, but the kind that made you realize that you always deserved to feel loved by someone. 

Truth be told, the house was not as bad as you had thought it would be. It just needed a little dusting and maybe a paint job, but it was still your childhood home in every way. Nick had kept it in good shape while you were gone, because your mother had asked him to take care of it in case you had ever thought about coming back home. 

You thanked the man when he handed you the keys, and asked him if you could borrow his truck to run some errands later that day. You just needed to run into town to pick up some groceries and stop by the hardware store to grab some supplies. 

In the meantime, you could use the quiet and the nostalgia to come up with the perfect plot for the final instalment of your novel series. Perhaps you could start off with Hope Anderson returning to her hometown due to her mother being ill, putting a pin on completing her residency and giving herself a break from her arrangement with Jake. 

She spends hours on end sitting by her mother’s bedside, losing her hope as the days rolled by. And when her mother passes away, she copes with her loss by spring cleaning her childhood home and fixing it up. 

*EDIT: 4th love interest? 

You had written a few pages of your first draft when you finally decided to take a break, stretching your arms as you stepped away from your laptop on the dining table. You had been avoiding your childhood bedroom like the plague ever since you had arrived, claiming the master bedroom as yours for the duration of your stay. 

But as you ascended up the creaky stairway and turned the corner to your childhood bedroom, you could have sworn that the last ten years had never gone by. The paint was chipping off of the cream colored walls, multiple posters of the Jonas Brothers pasted against them, never being taken down in your years away. 

You recalled the time you’d had the chance to meet them following their comeback, as one of their wives had starred in one of Harry’s films. You may not have been an overly enthusiastic fangirl on the red carpet, but you were certainly proud of how far you had come from your childhood bedroom. The teenage girl who used to live in this room had clearly grown up, living every dream she’d always had… except one. 

You walked over to the desk at the corner of your room, where the first few scenes of your Grey’s Anatomy fanfiction had been written. You had written more than one hundred thousand words about the undying love between Mark Sloan and Lexie Grey, as though they had never died after that plane crash, not even realizing that the basis of that story would eventually inspire the plot of your third novel. The attending and the resident with a significant age difference - God, could you ever be original with your own writing? 

This was the room where you fell in love with writing, but writing was not the only thing you had fallen in love with at the time. On the bulletin board above your desk remained one photograph, being held together by a thumb tack. 

You remembered the day after your high school graduation, when you had forcefully ripped out most of the photographs you had pinned to that bulletin board and chucked them in the trash bin, along with the feelings you had for the seventeen year old boy who was in those photographs with you. 

A part of you wanted to rip up the last remaining photograph that still remained on that bulletin board, but the ten years you had been away had certainly suppressed the anger you felt towards him. So instead, you left that photo where it was and returned to your laptop, picking up your writing from where you had left off but the thought of him now lingering through your mind. 

James Buchanan Barnes. Your best friend. Your first love. Your first heartbreak. The reason why Hope Anderson’s love life, and yours, had become hopeless in the first place. Perhaps the best way to end this story was to go back to the very beginning, to where it all had started, to the man who had been a part of her life before Jake, Ethan and Reid. 

“Oh Harry, you son of a bitch!” 

Dr. James Barnes let out a yawn as he eyed the CT scans in front of him, even though it was only the beginning of his twelve hour call shift. Only into the second year of his three year residency in emergency medicine, he was starting to familiarize with the intensity of his life as an emergency room physician. Sleepless nights were only the bare minimum. 

Not that he could not handle the stress of running the ER one day, but Bucky was well aware that outside of the walls of Shelbyville Hospital, he did not have a life. No girlfriend to go home to, no hobbies to kill time with and no friends from outside of work to hang out with. Work, sleep, repeat… life was starting to get boring for the poor twenty-eight year old man. 

“You look miserable.” Rosie Bender, the ER nurse on call and Bucky’s former classmate, remarked cheekily at her friend before she slipped into the seat next to him. 

He shot her a fake smile as he set down his patient file back onto the rack, leaning back in his chair and looked over at the nurse. “I’m just bored as fuck, Rosie. As you can see, the ER’s pretty quiet tonight. I just want something to do.” 

“If you’re so bored, you can help me make some calls. I have to finalize the number of people who are coming to this thing by the end of the week. The catering people have been asking for numbers… and don’t even get me started on picking the menu.” 

For the woman who had been head of the Prom Committee back in senior year, planning their ten year reunion was supposed to be a piece of cake. But Rosie was struggling with juggling all of the responsibilities that came with planning this reunion, being the only who seemed to care so much about being able to reunite with some old friends from what had been the best four years of her life. Why did no one else care about this as much as she did?

Truth be told, Bucky could care any less about this so-called ten year reunion. He was well aware that the one person he would be hoping to see would never show up. You hadn’t even come back to town when your mother had gotten sick, let alone to this stupid reunion that was meant to be a remainder of your senior year - the memory that he had ruined for you by being so inconsiderate towards your feelings for him. 

He could never forgive himself for what he had done to you, and to think that he would never have the chance to apologize to you in person. He fucked up, and he pushed away the one friend he had. If he could just see you one last time and tell you how sorry he was, Bucky would give anything. But he knew that all hope was lost on that, at least until Becca Barnes had come rushing into the ER. 

He had just assumed that she was only dropping off some dinner for him and Rosie, but instead she looked over at the two of them with beaming eyes. “You two are not going to believe who I ran into at the hardware store just now...” 

“Is old man Nick renovating the Y/L/Ns’ house again because he’s bored?” Rosie perked up at her girlfriend, giggling softly as she stood from her chair to lean over the desk and peck her lips. 

“No, but close…” The younger Barnes chirped before she turned to her brother. “Y/N’s back in town.” 

Perhaps, all of his hope was not lost after all. 

[takanova12]

One of the hallmarks of the aot fandom is massive panic everytime leaks drop and mostly the release of full chapter ends up pleasing if not all majority of the readers. Yet, we still don't learn and negatively react everytime even with the understanding that we are missing context for the leaked panels/dialogues. So amid all of this, here I am just trying to share my positive and hopeful interpretation of leaks, which mostly concern mikasa.

I wholeheartedly love eremika. They will forever remain my comfort ship. The leaks haven't changed anything. If anything, they just reinforced the idea that mikasa loved eren till her last breath. I admit that I loved the ambiguity of last panel of chapter 139; does mikasa live by herself till she dies? Or does she find love again and end up being surrounded by people who cherish her and will be there for her until the end?

I am happy that she found happiness in life. I saw people criticizing her choice of finding love again and how they were wrong about her making a selfless decision and living with pride etc. I personally don't see how her having a family cancels out what she did? She did give up the most precious person to her in the entire damn world to save the damn world. To people who wanted her to be a stronK woman who needs no man to live a empowering life, well she was that in the entire series. It was eren who needed her to save his ass 24/7, it was her and not a man who contributed most significantly to saving the alliance and we all know it was her who freed ymir. Not only that but one of the most popular EM moments where she gave eren emotional support (chap 50) ended up leaving such an impact on him that it helped me activate the coordinate and was also shown to be one of his most cherished memories of her. So, at the end if she wants to live a peaceful and simpler life, let her have that. Most importantly, let her have that considering she never wanted this life of a soldier. So, I am glad isayama gave her that. After all the shit she's been through she deserved some happiness, she deserved to be around her very own family. She deserved to be loved and cherished just like she loved and cherished eren. I am happy for my girl. I am happy that she had such a lasting impact on the story and on eren. I am happy that she wasn't alone her entire life. Sure, she has armin but let's admit it armin is with annie. They were not welcome on the island and even if mikasa left with them or they somehow settled back on paradise, aruannie would have their very own family. Sure, mikasa could be the stronK independent who needs no mAn and be an aunt to other kids so she won't be alone (reminds me of what eh wanted for mikasa; her to be aunt of her beloved dead eren's baby that he had with historia). Okay now being honest, I would have no problem with mikasa being single for her entire life and be some govermental figure of sorts if she was ever presented in that way. Never has ever mikasa shown any interest in politics, being some military leader or some princess to hizuru. She didn't join SC because it was her dream. She did because of eren and now that eren is gone and she served her purpose, she has no reason to become involved in nasty politics that she never wanted to be associated with. Also, she always left the strategic thinking, planning etc to armin. She has always pondered upon how many times does she have to lose her family and restart again. It always came down to home/family/love and a sense of belongingness for her. Sure eren was her home but before that her home was her parents and then carla and grisha. I am not saying that with eren gone, she has to find happiness in another man, but out of these other miserable options for her like living alone in the island, I prefer her being with loved ones. She doesn't have her dad like annie or parents like pieck with her to give her that home and sense of belongingness so I find it even more hard to swallow that some people actually wanted her to be not loved and die not having a home even after everything she has been through. Moreover, it's better for her mental health that she stays as far away from dealing with the mess eren left behind. Didn't she already do enough? She killed him and that was the most painful thing she ever had to do. So, I don't understand why people still want her to be some single stronK woman in power who dedicates her entire life to cleaning eren's mess? Hell no! No more misery for my girl! And thankfully yams agrees.

She has already had her fair share of trauma so isayama did the right thing leaving the diplomacy part to armin and others. Also, people making baseless claims that she is unhappy in her married life? Where and how? Mikasa surely wasn't ever gonna marry someone if she wasn't ready to. Did she visit the grave alone? Nope, she had her man with her, which suggests she is happy and can trust him with her feelings for eren and that he very much respects those feelings. She is not sneaking out of the house to visit her beloved's grave but she is living with pride. She is not doing anything wrong in remembering eren because irl we never forget our most beloved person even if we find love again.

On the topic of jeankasa, Idc whether it had 2 panels together or a 1000, it doesn't matter to me either way because aot was eremika's story ( as in I mean the story only told us about their journey of platonic to romantic feelings). Post titan world jk happened, so I find the jk don't have development and armuika makes more sense argument very out of place. First of all jk do have some development, where they end up trusting each other. Mikasa initially didn't like jean always fighting and criticizing eren and just didn't care about him. Later just like she forged close platnoic bonds with rest of 104th, she did so with jean too and most of it happened off screen because it was not needed for the story. I mean we found out sasha and mikasa were bunkmates not through the story but the guidebook. And this is in line with the fact that mikasa is not a very vocal person to begun with, she mostly speaks through her actions and that is why we hardly ever see her screaming how she is gonna help rid the world of titans or how she saved gabi because she is a child just like them caught up in war. About armuika it is a 100% platonic bond. With jeankasa, only mikasa considered jean as just a friend while jean since day 1 has been romantically attracted to mikasa so much so that he jumped right at a titan for the first time in his life when he saw mikasa in danger, before that his legs would shiver at the thought of fighting titans. So, it makes sense if it was him who ended up marrying her because he was in love with her the entire time and respected her feelings. The execution could have been better but I don't have any qualms with it because it doesn't make me ship eremika any less and overall knowing that mikasa was with someone who had always secretly loved and admired her for a long time just she did with eren makes me believe they both have a solid mutual understanding and good relationship.

Lastly, the takes on her still wearing the scarf is disrespectful to her husband is another thing I don't agree with. The scarf is not a romantic gift given to her by lover. The scarf is what saved her as a little girl. The scarf is what made mikasa understand the dichomoty of life at such a young age. The scarf is what allowed mikasa to realize that the world is not just cruel. It is what saved her and helped her save the world. It is a life-changing and beautiful treasure for her that sheltered her from turning into a cold-hearted revenge seeking psychopath. So, I find it satisfying to know that she is capable of embracing that part of her life and being anle to move ahead in life with her head held high.

On a side note I wanted to wait until the official release but I saw some mikasa slander and just couldn't wait any longer. I do think I am immune to mikasa slander now because I got everything I wanted for her character ( of course I would have loved for her to be with eren but I knew after liberio raid that they were never going to have a happy ending) but still sometimes I like to share my thoughts because I think it helps some people who are at times enjoying the content but the fandom discourse and constant negative interpretation of said events makes them hesistant to admit/enjoy it.

I am content knowing that my comfort character found some comfort in her life at the end :')