#their faces when I said it's shallow to like someone purely because of their gender

[no-context-nonsense]

I KNOW IT'S LATE DON'T LOOK AT ME

[fuyupeach]

chrysanthemum gladioli

a/n: literally just pure angst,,, yeah. rewatched jjk in 2 days and am now catching up on the manga so here is my word splatter of gojo content. god this story is so sad,,,

dying reader (ambiguous ooo la la), small blood mention, manga spoilers if you haven’t read gojo’s past arc bc while it is SAD it’s so fun to write about even if just a little bit. reader is gender neutral! enjoy

gojo satoru x reader | wc: 644 

“you’ve always been just gojo to me. people are multifaceted like that.”

the words repeat back to him in his mind, echoing, louder and louder upon repeating as he looks down frozen at your crumpled body. were you breathing? if it weren’t for his six eyes he wouldn’t have known; there was just too much blood. he’s reminded of his own on the brink of death experience way back then, throat pulsing in remembrance.

gojo remembers that day with clarity. the small smirk on your face as you said that, the concerned glint in your eyes betraying your lighthearted teasing. it was one of the first times he was left stunned without an immediate response, warmth and love flooding his heart.

—

“i don’t think it’s good to make comparisons like that.” you continued, finger fidgeting with the plate that supported your (let’s be honest, a certain someone had stolen all the glazed fruits that layed upon it, so it wasn’t really yours anymore) fruit tart. “sure you two are strong, but that’s not all you are. maybe.. maybe that was the true obstacle…that stood in the way of his happiness.” he didn’t need to ask who you were referring to. everyone knew after all, even if this conversation was just the two of you.

“are you the strongest because you’re gojo satoru? or are you gojo satoru because you’re the strongest?”

“it was too much. too much to take on at such an important stage of life.. we shouldn’t have to take on things like that…. not yet.” your smirk has gone down to a frown, unshed tears glinting in your eyes. gojou stays silent before reaching for his tea, setting it back down with a clunk. no amount of sugar could get rid of the bitterness in his mouth, it seems.

“yeah.” it was so silent, you almost didn’t hear it. your hand reached for his, soft but firm.

—

this time it was his hand reaching for yours. it was cold. limp. the bitterness in his mouth had returned. however, he felt a small twitch in the hand he held between his own, eyes instantly flicking to your face as your eyes fluttered open just the slightest, breath shallow as you spoke.

“i’m sorry, satoru… i…i..” your eyebrows furrowed as you attempted to speak, stress all over your features. you didn’t want to leave him. you didn’t want to die. you couldn’t leave him. you didn’t want him to be alone again. you had promised to stay by his side. emotions stuck in your throat as you tried to tell him what you may never have the chance to again, tears flowing freely down your face. “i’m sorry..” is all you could repeat, trying your damndest to grip his hand back the way you always did.

when you would get back to your shared home, and he was already there, back facing you as he attempted to cook in the kitchen, your arms slinking between his own as they found their rightful place.

when he would drag you along, laughter ringing out as you let out empty complaints, a grin spreading so wide across your face your cheeks would hurt.

when you two shared a moment of silence, whether it was while watching a movie, seeing the sun retreat for the day, or during a drive together, mischievious hands poking and prodding at yours.

no, you didn’t want to leave him behind, not at all. and yet, your eyes fell closed once more without your permission, and so too did your hand go back to being limp.

it broke his heart to see you apologize, cold, dark emptiness surrounding his body as tears streamed silently down his face. gojou knew. he always did, even if you didn’t say anything.

he was tired… so tired.

and now, once more, was he alone.

[heroofpenamstan]

—OC PROFILES: JOANNE & MICHAEL

tagged by the lovelies: @shallow-gravy​, @shellibisshe​, @belorage​, @honeysides​, @strafethesesinners​, @faithchel​, @blissfulalchemist​! thank you, dears! x since i’m tragically late to the party as per usual, not going to be tagging anyone since i assume most of my mutuals have done it, but if you want to go right ahead and tag me too so i can see! :”)) also, fair warning: 80% of the questions i answered at ungodly hours overmedicated on paracetamol and it shows because re-reading this in the morning was a Yikes

GENERAL

name: joanne burton alias(es): jo, annie ( mike exclusive ), burton, dep, jr. deputy, rook, traitor, sinner, wrath/pain in the ass ( john exclusive ), rabbit ( jacob exclusive ), heinous fucking bitch—( also john exclusive ), black widow ( new dawn au ) gender: cis. female age: 29 birth: 30th october, 1988 place of birth: meridian, idaho spoken languages: english; may or may not recite some hebrew lines over the holidays sexual preference: bisexual occupation(s): junior deputy of hope county, montana/menace to all cultists everywhere ( in a certain radius of said hope county, montana, anyway )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: brown hair colour: black height: 157cm ( 5′2 ), or approximately 7′11 when balancing on michael’s shoulders to peer inside john’s windows scars: split right eyebrow ( thanks, jake ), minor cuts and incorrectly healed bruises and gashes, scarred bullet wound on left hip ( you’re welcome, jake )

FAVOURITE

colour: orange or yellow or cyan, or whatever is more stupidly eye-catching and not at all fit for her current environment song: i’ve been thinking by handsome boy modeling school food: various stir-fries, fruits and protein ( or anything that she claims to be “healthy” when, truly, bitch is one step away from living off of instant noodles and canned pineapple and cigarette buds from dutch’s stash ) drink: beerherbal teas and infusions

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, but passing the police academy was already a pleasant enough surprise for her had sex: today? no. two weeks ago? probably had sex in public: probably said two weeks ago gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes, but we don’t talk about it kissed a boy: yes ( derogatory ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate ) gotten tattoos: yes, loads: most were practice scribbles for her ex-girlfriend, and the only true meaningful one she possesses is lydia, scrawled into her pinky in remembrance. otherwise, john seed do not even engage with that rusty ass tattoo gun— gotten piercings: yes, loads multiplied; if there’s a place for a piercing in her ears, she has them. also, an old septum piercing she hasn’t worn in a hot second been in love: yes, loads squared ( girl rents out her heart on the weekdays and cries about the scratches she notices on saturday, but still repeats it all over again come monday; falling in love for her is easy, but actually loving someone and getting over her self-loathing to do so is a whole different ball game ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: she’s probably on hour 31 as we speak ( someone knock her out pls )

ARE THEY

a virgin: whitehorse has heard enough horror stories in the break room between her and joey to last him a lifetime a cuddler: closeted cuddler, yes a kisser: most definitely; woman has to play up her natural assets scared easily: her response time is too lagged for that jealous easily: depends; she’s more jealous of what she should have/could have/would have had in a general sense than being jealous of a particular person or a thing trustworthy: in her own way, yes dominant: disgustingly so submissive: not in this lifetime in love: very much so single: very much so part 2

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: yes, but it’s more by means of unintentional yet severe substance abuse thought of suicide: not as often as one would assume; joanne has a very strong sense of self-preservation, but tends to run from her bleak reality by means of one harmful way or the other attempted suicide: once or twice during her lowest points in life wanted to kill someone: on the daily have/had a job: girl had juggled three part-time jobs; there is nothing she fears anymore have any fears: ( see above ) to fall back into old bad habits, loss of control, death, failure, a bad future, poverty, being abandoned and forgotten, long stays at a hospital, the judges, the bliss, the power of john’s hair gel

FAMILY

sibling(s): micah burton ( older brother ) parent(s): abigail burton née belman ( mother ); jim burton ( father ) children: asher seed ( daughter in new dawn au ) significant other: jacob seed ( circumstantial lover/”could do without” mentor/#prisonwife #prisonhusband #imkidding #kinda ) pets: boomer for the cuddles, cheesecake for the throttles ( bitch naturally attracts the judges but will forget her dog 101 and run away like what does she think will happen then?? )

GENERAL

name: michael scott-hughes alias(es): mike, mikey, mickey ( mary may exlusive ), mike the bike/fall’s end’s bicycle, resistance’s poster boy, manwhore, cassanova, the archangel ( joseph exclusive ), the antichrist ( also joseph exclusive ), war dog, hughes boy ( fairgrave exclusive ) gender: cis. male age: 30 birth: 6th july, 1988 place of birth: fall’s end, montana spoken languages: english, russian, basic chinese mandarin and turkish sexual preference: pansexual occupation(s): residential shady, shady man ( international arm’s dealer, most recently demoted to local resistance leader and occasional general goods store co-owner )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: green hair colour: brown height: 181cm ( 5′11 ), and 6ft on tinder jkjk man’s confident enough to not grasp for that extra inch, unlike someone ( john ) scars: heavily burnt left hand ( from trying to fish out his ex girlfriend’s boiling corpse r.i.p. to that steaming puss— ), gash on his right temple, nicely healed gun wound on left shoulder, not so nicely healed amputated right hand ( man’s not having the best time in my canon, is he ), various incorrectly healed cuts and bruises

FAVOURITE

colour: green and rustics song: wild world by yusuf/cat stevens food: unlike the faker above, michael actually likes to cook and eat healthy meals, so anything from salads to veggies to oatmeal to soups will do ( and meat; man’s been a vegetarian for a grand total of 4 days in his entire life ( or 14, if you count the time he got abducted to john’s bunker womp )) drink: sugary drinkswhiskey, fresh juices, “water can be so, so sexy, annie—”

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, though michael really busted his ass to self-educate on subjects that will be beneficial to his line of work had sex: we stopped keeping tabs and numbers nearly ten years ago had sex in public: we stopped blinking at these types of shenanigans nearly ten years ago too gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes? no? maybe? ( mike’s too afraid to even think about it, but hopes he hasn’t fathered any babies any time soon ) kissed a boy: yes ( affectionate ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate² ) gotten tattoos: yes: the sword of damocles on his left inner forearm, intertwined snakes running across his right ribs, a tiny smiley face on his ass lord save him gotten piercings: yes, and everyone hated his attempt to revive the 90s with his lil earring like c’mon you already have a reputation of being a sleaze— been in love: yes, but surprisingly not as many times as one may think ( truthfully, three times: mary may, lana, joanne mary may again ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: sometimes it just cannot be helped

ARE THEY

a virgin: maybe in a past life as an amoeba a cuddler: yes ( try to escape his hold during a summer night i’ll give you 5 bucks if you can break the deadlock ) a kisser: he just exists to smooch at this point scared easily: truthfully, he’s quite desensitized as is, so it’s really hard to truly rock him jealous easily: no; though he might get a bit petty and bitter if someone mentions merle and mary may becuase, like, c’mon, mary—merle briggs? trustworthy: one of his better traits, but past events have shown that boy tends to lose some of his morals for love dominant: yes submissive: yes part 2 man will accommodate and switch it up in love: often single: loosely, often

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: michael has bad mental health trips stemming from having a lot of insecurities as a child; these may evolve into bad habits and pure recklessness on his part to prove his worth thought of suicide: these thoughts don’t come often, but when they do, it’s harder for him than most to shake them off and recover attempted suicide: once, during the boiling pit incident wanted to kill someone: yes, but it comes more from need than want usually have/had a job: yes, though no retail until he was 30 and stuck providing hope county with slugs and bullets have any fears: loneliness, rejection, abandonment, repercussions and consequences, not being good enough, powerlessness, loss, the angel pit, the process of dying

FAMILY

sibling(s): none, but: jackson hughes ( uncle ) parent(s): jessica hughes née scott ( mother ), david hughes ( father ) girl i have his whole family tree drawn up like you wouldn’t believe children: andrew hughes ( son in new dawn au and maybe canon ) significant other: mary may fairgrave ( childhood sweetheart/awkward ex/once in a rare cosmic event fuck buddy/volatile lovers ) pets: peaches loves him she doesn’t; she just wants to chew on his hair

[whatistastyinbusan]

artwork || j.jk oneshot

Pairing: singer! jungkook x artist! reader (gender-neutral)

Summary: in which y/n, an artist frustrated by the lack of inspiration in life, finds themselves some motivation in the form of jeon jungkook at a bar.

inspired by pied piper jungkook, joonpiter's edit of still with you - jk but it's open mic night at your local bar and you're falling in love with him 

Word Count: 3.0k

Genre: Fluff

A/N: hi, sorry if this is annoying BUT one very important thing: before you read this, listen to the video linked above to set the mood (believe me, it does wonders) or listen to it while reading. Okay, now onto the one-shot!

_______________________________________________________

You could not see how coming to a bar would help you find the inspiration that you were so desperately trying to get a hold of.

It had been three weeks - three weeks - since you had even picked up a pencil and put it down on paper. Art, as it seemed to be, was your escape; a safe haven, a vent for emotions that when pent up led to nights full of tossing or turning and not a wink of sleep, a channel through which you could craft your thoughts, letting the pencil in your hand guide you on what to do.

But when picking up that same pencil led to nothing but scribbles and bunched up pieces of paper in the trash, thoughts and emotions tended to get a little overwhelming. By that, you meant that they would render you helpless as you felt like ripping out your hair in frustration or screaming until nothing but hoarse whispers would come out of your throat.

You'd spent hours scrolling through social media, trying to find something that would spark your interest, but at the end of the night, always came up empty-handed. That was your routine for the past two weeks. You had even attempted to go out for a day, visiting places like the city and the library and the small lake near your house, but it seemed like nothing was piquing your interest these days.

Everything was bland, flavourless. The sunset - that would usually make you take out your phone camera and capture its beauty so that you could use a paintbrush and transfer the beauty from a screen to paper, stroke by stroke - now didn't even manage to make you bat an eye. The little flowers that grew in the cracks on the sidewalk - the same ones that would make you crouch down and hastily draw on your hand so that you could go home and recreate them in a better fashion, would be crumpled beneath the soles of your shoes. The smiles of strangers - that would usually imprint themselves onto your mind, so that you could sit near the window at home and think about how happy they looked while you sketched every single line of their face onto some medium - would make you walk right by and become just a distant memory.

Against your better judgement, you reluctantly decided to consult your friends, sick and tired of mind blanks and art blocks, hands itching to dispel the thoughts inside your head, to tell the world about you. The answers you got were...very diverse, you could say.

You got all sorts of recommendations, ranging from bungee jumping to strip clubs (you had almost died of asphyxiation while the friend who recommended it was too busy laughing her head off).

And unfortunately, the least bizarre idea out of the lot was a bar.

You considered the option; really thought over it for a solid ten minutes. It would be a change to your daily routine, which might be the reason for your lack of inspiration. Seeing the same things every day may have just become too mundane for you. A bar, on the other hand, would be a nice addition of spice to your life. Not enough to completely shake you, like strip clubs, but enough to make sure you didn't die of being inspiration-less (you weren't sure if that was actually a word, but you couldn't care less at that point).

So that's how you found yourself, breathing shallow and nerves firing rapidly, outside a bar near your house.

You didn't want to be the centre of attention. God, no. You wanted to blend in enough to observe some people from afar (now that you realized, that sounded borderline creepy). You had your sketchbook tucked safely under your over-sized cardigan, hidden because who on earth brings a sketchbook to a bar? You mentally rehearsed your plan of action; enter and be as inconspicuous as you could, make a beeline for a seat hidden in the shadows of the room and not come out until inspiration had struck you.

Once you were confident that you weren't going to trip over your own two feet, you swung open the door and felt the warm air of the room hit you, a tingling sensation flooding over your body as it adjusted to the new temperature. You heard a bell chime overhead, signalling your arrival, so you booked it to a little table right at the back, partially obscured under the lighting of the room before anyone could actually spot you.

Murmurs of conversation happening around you reached your ears, but you were sure that all of your senses had just short-circuited, like some nerve in your body had just decided to disconnect itself, resulting in a numbing sensation.

But your senses couldn't have short-circuited, because your ears picked up something and you couldn't tell if you were still alive or had died and gone to heaven.

A voice. A heavenly, serene, soulful voice.

Your eyes travelled towards the dais towards the side of the bar and saw what you could only describe as a living masterpiece, right there, on the raised platform. Long fingers clasped the microphone stand as the boy, who looked no older than 24, swayed lightly with the music playing overhead. Black, wavy hair framed his face, partly covering his eyes, but you could see that they were closed, too engrossed in the song. He wore nothing but a patterned black long sleeve shirt, top few buttons undone with black tights.

Still with you.

Remember when you said that you wouldn't leave the bar until inspiration struck you? Yeah, well, it struck you like lightning.

Your whole body was in a trance, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop listening to his voice. It was so...so raw and so emotional, that you had almost forgotten about why you came there in the first place.

Whipping out your sketchbook from underneath your cardigan, you wasted no time in trying to capture the pure essence of the boy under the hanging lights of the bar. You had never thought that bar lighting could make someone look so ethereal.

With nothing but just his voice calming you - for all other conversations had died out to let his heartfelt voice float around the place - you worked. You worked so fast, afraid that the inspiration you had found so arduously would run away from you, just like everything else, and yet you worked so slowly and carefully, making sure that you could do the boy's beauty justice, although you doubted that was possible.

Najimagi deullineun i eeokeon soli igeolado eobseumyeon na jeongmal muneojil geos gata

It felt like nothing else existed, nothing else mattered, apart from the pencil and sketchbook in your hand, and the boy and his melodious voice up on the dais. You couldn't focus on the bursts of conversation around you, or the way your wrist was slightly hurting from the way you were sitting, but you couldn't care. Nothing else mattered at that moment.

You were convinced that if you weren't drawing, you would've walked up to the boy, his voice drawing you in like the lure of the pied piper's pipe. It managed to wrap around you, binding you to it, and slowly but steadily pulled you in, all the while murmuring sweet nothings right near the shell of your ear.

It was exhilarating, feeling the craving of rushing to finish something flood through every one of your veins, something that you had almost forgotten the feeling of. You were ever so thankful for the entity on the make-shift stage in front of you, because you were sure that if he hadn't come into your life with his voice, you would've slipped into an abyss, a void and would've failed to come out.

You couldn't tell if it was his voice or the bass reverberating off the walls, that shook you from the inside. For a minute, you had to pause, and had to breathe, letting the notes flood you and fill you, invading every single nook and corner of your being and healing it over. Ambrosia, that's what you would describe his voice and looks as. Sweet, sweet ambrosia. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that a voice could make you feel complete.

Subconsciously, your foot tapped along with the slow but gripping beat, and occasionally your eyes would flick towards him, and would stay just a second too long.

jeo dari oerowo boyeoseo bamhaneure hwanhage ulgo issneun geot gataseo

And his eyes would meet yours, and stay for a second too long before he looked away and smiled at the audience, who remained awestruck by the blessing in the form of the gorgeous boy on stage, who seemed as if he belonged there, singing his heart out and baring himself for the whole world to see. You decided that his smile, the most radiant of all things; you wanted to pocket it. You wanted to pocket it and keep it safe, never wanting to let it die. Because just like your drawings, his smile held a thousand words. And you wanted to hear every single one of them while your pencil traced the curve of his lips and smile onto a piece of paper, making sure it would never turn upside down.

Four minutes.

Hwangholhaessdeon gieok soge na hollo chumeul chwodo biga naerijanha

That's how long the boy sang for. Every word that left his mouth rattled you from the inside, and yet calmed you like no other meditation technique.

Four minutes.

That's how long you drew for. An incomplete figure, a mess of lines and shading looked back at you from the paper, and fear gripped you like a cold heart.

You weren't going to let him get away. Not before you finished the drawing and pinned it with all your other ones, because that night; that night was like no other.

Never had you felt that way about a sunset, or a bunch of flowers, or a strangers's smile. But he, he made all your worries retreat into a dark corner of your mind with just a smile. And his voice, oh god, you could listen to it all day and all night and never get sick of it. It felt as if he would always be your inspiration, ever ready to help you be yourself.

That boy up on the stage, you thought, was one thing you were sure you would never get tired of seeing, never get tired of drawing because, dear god, did he look absolutely stunning standing there without a care in the world.

Once he drew out the last note, the bar erupted into claps and cheers and you stopped, eyes following his obsidian ones as they crinkled in delight. He bowed to everyone before speaking into the microphone, "Thank you. Thank you, guys."

And then he was stepping off the stage, still smiling and waving at the people who complimented him, and you found yourself walking towards him. You weren't one for confrontations, but you were willing to push aside your fear of socialising for him, just this once.

He noticed you walking towards him, and shook hands with the last person before turning to you.

The two of you stood in silence. Apparently, you had suddenly lost the ability to form a single coherent thought because oh God, he was even more beautiful from up close. Sharp collar bones peeked out from beneath the collar of his shirt, and you somehow missed the tattoos lining his right arm, which was scratching at the back of his neck nervously. You could see a little mole right there, on the tip of his nose, and one right beneath his bottom lip and another one-

"Can I help you?"

Your body jerked a little as you brought your eyes to look at his black ones, and your brain finally put together a sentence as you spoke, voice clearer than your thoughts, "Your voice...it's amazing." You really wanted to say how breathtakingly beautiful he was too, but you decided to hold that back.

He laughed, the apples of his cheeks dusted with light pink as he threw back his head and laughed. And you realised that his laugh was just as precious as his smile. You noticed that his nose scrunched up in the cutest way as he giggled, and his shoulders went up slightly too, as if he was curling into himself. "Thank you. That means a lot to me, coming from someone like you."

You stopped and stared at him. Did he just say what you think you said? No, you probably mishe-

"I feel like you're not done speaking yet," he said softly, and you exhaled deeply. You just hoped that what you were going to say wasn't going to weird him out.

"I...I may have been, um.." you started but trailed off almost immediately after. Get it together y/n, you're better than this.

You closed your eyes and inhaled, before breathing out, "I was, um, drawing you, while you were, uh, singing."

You peeled open your eyes to see him looking at you in...what was it? Shock? Surprise? Disgust?

"You...were drawing me?" he started, and god, you wished he wouldn't stare at you like that, like he was staring into your very soul and unpacking every single layer there was to you, pulling you apart bit by bit and then restoring your pieces with utmost care.

You nodded slightly, but before you could explain your intentions and assure him that you were no creep, he spoke again.

"Can I see it? Please?"

If anyone should know a fact about you, it would be that you are absolutely helpless against puppy eyes. And this guy, the oh so beautiful guy in front of you, was embodying that very look.

You coughed nervously, feeling your cheeks and neck heat up as a million thoughts raced through your head. What if he found it ugly? Or found that you hadn't completed it? Or found that you hadn't gotten his nose right? The possibilities were endless. But despite the thoughts zooming around that head of yours, you cleared your throat, slowly bringing up the unfinished drawing.

"It's not finished, which is why I wanted to...to talk to you." you licked your lips, finding them in an extremely dry state, just like your throat. Maybe you should've ordered a bottle of water.

You got no answer, your breathing stilling as you studied him, his pupils blown wide as he examined the rough sketch in front of him. You could see his eyes roam over every inch of the paper, and shivered, feeling as if he wasn't staring at the drawing, but at you instead.

"It's not-" you started.

"It's..it's heavenly." he breathed, bringing his eyes to look at you, and you could feel your heart melt underneath his soft gaze. You could practically feel the appreciation bouncing off the soft smile his lips held, and wondered how you could feel so loved, so worthy in the eyes of a complete stranger.

"I was wondering if," you broke off to take a deep breath, "I could possibly finish this drawing?"

You looked at him with hopeful eyes, and upon noticing the hesitation in his eyes hastily added, "only if you're okay with it, of course!" You were hoping with all of your willpower that he would agree, but you were respectful of his wishes. You had worked with all sorts of people in the past, and all you valued from those experiences was trust.

If he didn't trust you, then you couldn't draw him. Simple.

The same reluctance danced in his eyes for a minute more before being replaced with something else. Was it admiration? Or was it sympathy?

"I'll be more than happy to model for you," he said, lips stretching into the widest grin you had ever seen, and before you knew it, you were grinning just as hard too. Contagious. That's how you would describe his smile as. It infected you with happiness, lighting up your day like nothing else, embedding nothing but optimism into the dullness of your life.

And in a moment of tempestuous thoughts, you wondered what would it feel like to trace those lips with your fingers instead.

"Could I have your phone please?" he asked, holding out his hand as you passed it to him and for the briefest moment, in the midst of handing it over to him, your fingers brushed against his, and lingered for a while too long to be considered as nothing.

But you said nothing about it, and instead watched as he tapped at your screen with a small smile on his face before giving you back your phone.

He had fed his number into your phone, under the name of Jeon Jungkook with a bunny emoji next to it.

Fitting, you thought. He did remind you of a bunny.

You looked up at him, only to find him exiting the bar and climbing into a cab. And just before he climbed in, he looked back - right at you - and waved, before gesturing to call him later.

You stood in the middle of the floor at the bar, watching as the taxi pulled away, and pocketed your phone and walked out of the bar. You felt the cold air rush to prick at the bits of exposed skin near your neck and wrists, but you were too lost in thought to notice.

Jeon Jungkook, you decided, was an enigma; an artwork. A mystery with too many layers and too many twists. But Jeon Jungkook was also the simplest person you had ever encountered.

And as an artist, you were willing to tell the world about him, were willing to tell the world about Jeon Jungkook.

The boy so beautiful that he stole your heart without even knowing it.

_______________________________________________________

A/N: et voila, I have posted my very first one-shot! Don't forget to vote and tell me your thoughts or any feedback bcoz your support means the world to me. And last but not least, always remember that you are loved, valid and a beautiful person, inside and out. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise you precious hooman (or they can fight me)

p.s: tell me if you want a part 2 or if you have any other ideas that you might want me to write! :)

[miraculousfanworks]

How To Analyze a Character

Have you ever been reading a fic and found the character is not recognizable that causes you to say “I don’t know who that is in that Marinette suit but that’s not Marinette.”

Or when you’re writing there’s that one character you need and you just can’t get inside their head to save your life. 

This essay is going to delve into how to analyze characters and how they work in stories. It will help you both articulate why you do or don’t like a particular character or their interpretation, and help you in your own writing of that character.

Characters, as well as other elements of a narrative, can be broken down into collections of  recognizable elements often called “tropes.” (For the comprehensive taxonomy see tvtropes.org.) These commonly recurring literary and rhetorical devices, motifs or clichés can be combined in unique ways. They exist as recognizable and namable concepts because the same patterns are used over and over again in the creation of stories. We can use named tropes to describe what we are seeing in one story and relate it to other instances of the same phenomenon. 

The advantage of recognizing the tropes that describe a character means that we can import into our understanding of them all of the other instances of that trope we have come across, and then compare and contrast these characters. 

For example, both Chloé and Adrien exhibit the “Well Done, Daughter/Son!” Girl/Guy trope, desperately seeking the approval of a distant and withholding parent. (Faramir in the Lord of The Rings and Shinji Ikari in Neon Genesis Evangelion are also prime examples.) Knowing that they are both participants in this kind of relationship we can see how it plays out differently. 

Gabriel seems like a deliberate ass, but occasionally manifests approval as when he played the duet with Adrien before sending him off to  the Kitty Section concert in Capitan Hardrock.  Audrey is entirely un-reflexive in her horribleness, dismissive rather than demanding and only ever recognizes Chloé’s worst feature as admirable. Kagami is also a “well done daughter!” girl and it informs how she relates to Adrein, Chloé, Marinette and Ladybug, providing both for character connection and thematic contrast.

On the production side, tropes can be used deliberately to construct a character to achieve a particular purpose. Adrien was created using the standard tropes of the fairy tale princesses beauty, musical talent, kindness to all creatures (even Chloe), kept looked up by an unloving parental figure. By creating a stereotypical Disney princess but swapping the gender it causes us to think harder about the assumptions we make about Princesses.

Symbols work the same way. We use symbolic images and language in media because it allows us to reference all the other ways and places that symbol is used. It becomes a shorthand for much bigger units of meaning. Pure originality would be completely unintelligible.

For example, Marinette displays two flower motifs on a regular basis. One is the cherry blossom spray across her shirt. Commonly this is associated with both love and passion, as well as purity and transitory beauty. In China, the last three are more closely associated with the Plum blossoms that decorate her purse, chair, and diary. Along with the additional significance of  perseverance and hope, we can see that her dreams for the future, however heard she works for them, may not turn out as she plans. 

The cherry blossom, in China, is a symbol of passion, strength, and feminine power and sexuality. As Marinette has this symbol peeking out from behind her jaket on the left side of her shirt, it represents how her civilian persona hasn’t fully come into the power she displays as Ladybug. Adrien’s kwami was chosen to be a Black Cat specifically to call up all our associations with them and bad luck as a counterpoint to Ladybug and her Lucky Charm.

Pikachu, I Choose You!: Artistic Decisions

You would think this wouldn’t need to be said but remember, remember, remember: these fictional characters are not real people. Why does that matter? Because everything you see on the screen or on the page is the result of a choice made by the writer or artist. 

Images and dialogue may be selected deliberately, thoughtfully, thematically, instinctually, carelessly, haphazardly, or stupidly, but they are there because the authors and illustrators and creators selected them to be there. 

Remember that the characters only exist to serve the story and everything about them ideally should serve to move the story toward its conclusion.

This is especially pertinent in an animated–and especially a computer animated–show because everything has to be made specifically for the show and they are expensive to make(MLB costs ~$460,000 an episode). That’s why you get only one outfit for most of the characters, except when absolutely necessary.

Saving their production budget for other things is  why Theo Barbot has all of the odd jobs in Paris, there seems to be only one cop, Sabrina’s dad, and Alec and Nadja are the only people on TV. If you take a look in Bubbler, the first episode aired in the US, you can see that the school, the bakery, the hotel, and the Agreste Manor are all within one block of each other.

CallMeDale posted this to the Miraculous Fanworks Discord. Source unknown. Image originally from Bubbler.

What this production cost means for analyzing a character (or anything else) is that everything we see in a visual medium is important. Everything about a character has been picked for some reason. How they look, how they move–even how they stand says something about who they are as a person, who they are in their relationships, and who they are as an element of the story.

I did a fairly comprehensive essay on Chloé as a character so I want to walk through some of the things I looked at in order to write it.  

Character at First Sight: 

First impressions are vital. Because Marinette is picked to be our eyes as the OP starts (“In the daytime I’m Marinette,”) we know she is supposed to be our heroine and point of view.  Everything that happens after that is to be judged in relation to her. The first time we see Chloé in the show is a whole 5 seconds into the opening, when she and Sabrina walk past a face-planted Marinette. Immediately afterwards, Chloé runs back in to glomp Adrien and push Marinette out of the way. 

From these few brief seconds we know that she is both rich and domineering, Sabrina is walking just behind her with a huge designer purse and bookbag, obviously in a subservient role. Chloé laughs at Marinette, which establishes her as an antagonist to the Heroine. Chloé pushing Marinette out of fram when she comes back shows that she exists in part to block our Heroine from Adrien, our Hero, whose expression shows he really doesn’t appreciate the attention.  

Not even three seconds of screen time and we already know who Chloé is in relation to three people: Marinette, Adrien, and Sabrina.

How much time a character gets in the beginning of a story also sets up how much brainspace  we allocate them and our expectation of their importance. This is one reason I prefer Bubbler as the “first episode’’ (US viewing order) over Stormy Weather (South Korean/International Viewing order). Stormy Weather spends the first few minutes on Aurore, Mirielle, and Alex before getting to  Mari, Tikki, Manon, Alya, and Adrien. Bubbler in the same first minute sets up Marinette, her parents, Adrien, Alya, Chloé, and Nino and all their relationships.

By choosing your descriptions carefully you can get the reader to think of other things without directly mentioning them. Ladybug’s costume, mode of travel and name all callback to Spiderman (she even does the upside down hang in Dark Cupid), and even though the iconic phrase “with great power comes great responsibility,” is never stated its influence is felt in the persistent characterization of Ladybug as ‘all business’ in fic, even though she is more playful in canon. Master Fu is modeled after classic inscrutable mentor Mr. Miyagi from the original Karate Kid movies, it gives him an air of perhaps more wisdom and knowledge than he actually possesses.

Come on Let’s Vogue: How the Look of a Character Informs Us

Now let’s look at what we get from the elements selected for Chloe’s character design. Slender, pale, almost-white blonde hair, sunglasses on the top of her head, lots of blue eyeshadow, yellow jacket over a black and white striped shirt, white capris and black and white flats. All of this says she is the top of the social heap at her school. Combined with her glomping and trying to kiss Adrien and we can guess she is–or at least wants to be seen as–romantically “experienced”. Yellow is a happy color, it’s what makes a printed picture look bright. Often, though not always, it is associated with success and general goodness (i.e. a heart of gold) so she is initially portrayed as a person who doesn’t have any cares. White jeans and shoes point to both her status as someone who doesn’t have to work and a certain level of naivete. 

But she also has this very gothy studded belt around her hips. It is very obviously not holding up her pants. This hints at the darker emotions and experiences at her core. The black and white stripes of her undershirt hint at the way she is held prisoner by her past. 

Because we have been set up to see Chloé as the spoiled,rich bitch with everything she could want, when the facade cracks and we see just how awful her mother is it hits all the harder for us. Chloé’s invulnerable image is destroyed.

“What’s in a Name?”: Tagging as Character creation

Names are also a good starting place for getting into a character. 

Bourgeois comes layered with the connotations of wealth, but not too much, and shallow conformity. Chloé is derived from the Greek Khlóe, or ‘young green shoot’ (of a plant), which can also be interpreted as meaning 'blooming.’ Khlóe is an epithet, or nickname, for Demeter in her aspect of the Lady of Summer. We know the writers know and are thinking of these meanings because of these lines in Sandboy.

Nightmare Adrien: Marinette, for your birthday, I’m going to buy you flowers—

…

Nightmare Adrien: —hortensias, roses and Chloés. (Marinette shrieks)

Not only does her name sound like that of a Homecoming Queen/Cheerleader/trust fund baby, but it also indicates she is immature but with potential to become something more.

Queen Bee is also laden with meaning as it is a term used to describe girls in their teens who are at the top of their social pecking order (see Queen Bees & WannaBes). It perfectly describes bothe how Chloé acts but also how she perceives herself.

The Things You Do to Me: Character Action

Characters in a story are what they do and more importantly why they do what they do. If Marinette becomes Ladybug for the first time because someone needs saving (first Ivan, then Alya), and Adrien becomes Chat Noir in order to escape the gilded cage that is his house, Chloé dons the Bee miraculous in a desperate (and unsuccessful) bid to catch her mother’s attention. 

Attention seeking is part of every subsequent time that her hero persona appears in the story. Consider the implications of the fact that the signal on her roof is a Bee signal, not a Ladybug signal. The gestursal tic she has of always examining her nails, often with the other arm folded over her chest, is a visual shorthand for both her self-absorption and that her unpleasant personality is a defence mechanism. 

Dialogue clues are also important, especially things that come up more than once. Chloé’s persistent lack of remembrance of the Concierge’s name (Jean-whatever) shows her to be dismissive of the people she believes to be “beneath her” which becomes horribly ironic when we find out her mother doesn’t seem to remember her name. That Marinette is always  Dunain-Cheng, emphasizing her parents status as tradesman and that Marinette is not pure French operates as a persistent put down.

Chloé is a Hero with an F in Good, primed by the writers for the Face–Heel Turn which happens in Miracle Queen. They telegraph this event by the choice to echo her “once a monster always a monster,” line from Stoneheart, in the S3 midseason Stormy Weather 2. There she mocks Aurore with “once a villain always a villain.” Highly ironic given the number of times Chloé has been akumatized and prompted it in others. Her bad heroing serves to show that actions and motives are not always aligned and to highlight the selflessness of the other heroes. 

A great example of showing character through dialogue is Nino’s conversation with Gabriel in Bubbler. Nino was given a very distinctive, persistent, and casual speech pattern (“dude” in English), It’s so distinctive that Alya immediately recognizes that he is Carapace. The fact that he makes an effort to suppress it when he is trying to persuade Gabriel to let Adrien have a birthday party shows how much he cares about giving Adrien this gift. It’s part of what establishes him in our minds as such a great friend for Adrien (King of Bros!). Giving characters individualized vocabularies and speech patterns is one of the best ways to help distinguish them in both your, and the reader’s mind.

All Together Now!

As you read and experience more stories, you will recognize more and more common elements across the characters, places, events and ideas that make up the stories you read. As you recognize these building blocks, and how they can be combined and manipulated, they will help you understand better why certain characters do what they do in the story. You can then deliberately select them as you create your own stories to highlight desired themes, set up conflicts or call cultural resonances to your readers’ minds.  Remember what you write is a conversation between you, your reader, and the world around you. The more of the world you can bring into your writing the deeper it will impact your readers.

[hanadolphieron]

lunar artist!yeojin; chapter four~

warnings; space ships, flying in space, space battles, explosions, grenades, fighting, armies, exhaustion, bad dialogue sorry bout that, unconsciousness, prison

genre; sci-fi, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst

pairing; im yeojin x gender neutral!reader

word count; 2.1k

summary; your small crater town on the moon was rarely visited. one day, artist!yeojin travels all the way from mars to paint the serene, wistful scenery of your planet.

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you’re sweating at this point. hot, itchy perspiration runs down your neck, your arms, all over your body. you don’t care. all that matters now is escape. 

the gates to bexyim are close now. close enough that you can see the people crowding around inside them.

well, it’s not exactly a crowd. more like a small, distanced flock of humans scurrying around. they look terrified, like someone is about to snatch them up and take them away.

and, you notice, somebody just might. 

as you slow your pace to a walk, you catch sight of armored beings, covered in the silver regalia you know belongs to the lunar military.

they patrol through the city, daring people to challenge them.

you recall stories of the drafts that occurred when you were still a kid. your dad was fortunately not called, and your family was safe.

but others weren’t.

some poor mothers lost their whole family to the drafts, and some not only to those, but to the war.

and you’re seeing the aftermath of that right now. 

you emerge through the city gates, being scanned by the flashing lasers inside them, and see the tired faces of the people around you.

and you know the look of exhaustion isn’t just the natural downwards shape of lunar faces.

these people have lost their livelihood, the most important part of lunar life- their family.

all because of that dreadful, burning planet called mars.

you know the moon didn’t start this war.

the resource of your world are spread thin to begin with, there’s no way your government could have made a decision that bad.

i mean, they are politicians, and don’t make the best choices, but still, they would have known better than this.

you keep walking, breathing hard and loudly. you feel self conscious from all the stares being trained on your back, and look down, watching your feet.

a voice calls out to you, “y/n!”

you glance up, seeing your boss.

“oh, hello,” you respond softly.

“we’ve lost contact with you since the war started. where have you been?”

“i’ve actually been at my house. i had no idea there was a war going on!” you giggle, drifting into the shallow, polite persona you use with your company.

“well, we need you to be on the job. now. we’ve been losing journalists by the second, either to the drafts, deaths in the family, or just pure fear. we know you can handle the job.”

“the job?” you question.

“yes, we need someone to be at the frontlines, giving reports on how the battle is going.”

“aren’t there multiple war areas?” you don’t like the sound of this. i mean, go up to the frontlines? and report? who do they think you are?

“yes, you’ll be moving around throughout them. the first station is one to the south of mars, closest to where all the big battles are. we seem to be winning over there, only a ragtag group of soldiers is there, they’re all runaways or have some other thing going on. none of them are as disciplined as the rest of the army. their leader is though. she’s fierce. watch out for her.”

“okay,” you say, “where, where do i go?”

“come with me,” your boss says, leading you towards another street, “do you have anything with you?”

you walk fast to keep up with her pace, “i don’t actually! it was sort of a spontaneous trip here, i was trying to figure out what was going on,” you say, letting out another chuckle.

“there’ll be some supplies on the ship, i’m sure,” your employer easily responds.

out of the corner appears a launchpad. a small ship sits atop it. hopefully it’s just a transport, you don’t fee confident prancing up to the war in such a tiny vessel. 

you don’t feel confident going anywhere near the frontlines to begin with, but duty calls.

laylia, your boss, doesn’t even stop, continuing onto the ship. you follow, helpless. everything is moving so fast. 

“well, guess this is where we part. have fun y/n,” she calls, already leaving.

“yeah, uh, see you!” your voice barely makes it out, the door is already closing and air whistles around you, carrying you into the air.

you clutch the side of the ship, not used to the movement.

after you make it into the atmosphere and turn on the hyperdrive, you make you way to a seat and plonk down.

exhaustion overtakes you, and despite your nerves, you pass out on the chair.

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blaring red sirens awake you a few hours later and you sit up way too fast, making your eyes have a seizure and fill up with colored parallelograms.

falling up into a standing positions, head still spinning, you look around.

you notice something in the side window. another ship. a marsian one.

gasping, you urgently glance around, searching for someone who knows what they’re doing and can hopefully help you.

everything begins to set in.

you could die. right now. right this very second. and what have you done with the time you’ve had?

someone grabs you by the shoulder and you’re jolted out of your thoughts.

“hey, you’re the journalist, right?” they ask you.

“yeah,” your voice shakes.

“come with me, we have to go,” the solider says, and seeing your nervous expression adds, “you won’t get hurt, i promise, we’ll protect you. i’ll protect you.”

the soldier continues to stare into your eyes.

who the heck is this kid? you think. are they really trying to flirt in the middle of a life-threatening situation? you shake your head, stepping forward and pushing them to move along.

the two of you run towards the doorway, which has somehow docked at an enemy ship.

an enemy ship?

hold the shuckadoddle frickety frack up. you can’t do this anymore. regretting everything, you tell yourself to stop, anxiety taking over your mind.

your legs don’t listen to your thoughts, and you keep running.

escaping and heading into danger because of impulsive decisions seems to be a constant theme in your life. hmm.

explosions fill your ears. you can’t see them, only the grey walls boxing you in the quiet metal ground disappearing under your feet.

your eyes are trained on the floor beneath you, but you somehow take in everything around you. peripheral vision seems to work double-time in emergencies.

soldiers rush forward in the other corridors, going the same direction as you.

they’re just blurs, silver numbers moving as a group, dispensable and unimportant. 

the person leading you hasn’t given you a weapon. you’re defenseless. but hey, when have you ever not been? you have no idea how to use a gun.

adrenaline takes over. you’re the most confident you’ve ever been since that one time when you were little and your mom bought you high heels and you got to walk around the house like a venusian model.

the memory makes you sad. you haven’t seen your mother in years. you might not ever see her again. 

regret flashes through your mind.

you push it away.

the explosions are near. you hear them before you see them.

thundering, blasting booms echo through your eardrums, becoming the only thing you can hear.

next, you see them.

smoke wafts toward you, mixed with sparks.

then before you can register it, a crash erupts and orange fire comes streaking towards you.

the soldier pulls you down behind a doorway, and the fire goes past.

they move as soon as the fire goes past.

“come on, we have to hurry!”

you can barely hear them over your own fear. it’s the only thing going through your mind.

you chase after the soldier, probably running to your doom but who cares at this point. you have nowhere else to go.

you reach the hanger, where the battle is commencing. sliding to a stop behind a crate, you catch your breath, heaving, almost spitting all over the solider.

they seem to be in a better state than you. stupid trained military.

“turn on your comm,” the soldier speaks to you. 

“how?”

they reach over and push a button.

“talk. report something.”

“uhm. ok,” oh dear how are you going to do this.

still breathing hard, you pant into the microphone, “we’re in the main hanger of ship 456,” you read off the crate you’re slouched against, “lunar reinforcements are coming in by the second. we seem to be in the lead, our troops are hiding behind crates and have shelter. ships are blowing up from explosions thrown at the other side,” you pause, catching your breath, you’re speed-talking into the microphone.

remembering what your boss said, you say, “the general doesn’t seem to be here. just a rag-tag army of shorties. let’s go luna!”

turning off the comm, you belch a sigh. 

then your world turns upside down. a sound like a sonic boom pushes at your eardrums. your vision goes green and purple for a second. you black out.

-----------------------------------------------------------

yeojin almost falls again. laughing you shriek at her, “yeojin! this is the fortieth time! get yourself together!” the last part comes out in a purposefully strangled voice, one you use whenever you’re yelling but don’t want to yell because you’re not mad, just overly excited.

she trips over her ice skates, cackling over your words. you barely catch her this time, arms weak with happiness.

you pull her up, holding her close to you. she’s touching your arms, holding onto them, leaning in closer, looking as happy as can be.

but something isn’t right. 

you feel nervous. 

something’s coming.

yeojin’s face falls, and your sight shifts.

you’re dreaming. yeojin isn’t here. 

eyes opening, you shudder and flinch with the harsh reality of waking up. you’re not safe. you have to run.

making a start, trying to get away from a place you haven’t even looked at, you’re caught by restraints.

finally registering your location, you realize where you are.

in a prison cell.

panicking harder now, you push against the cuffs clasped around your wrists and ankles.

you’re breathing hard, but if feels like you’ve been holding your breath, submerged under water.

you’re drowning.

thoughts fill your mind. you can’t look at them, pushing them away, the only emotion in your system is fear. it’s propelling you. the only thing keeping you going. you need it.

sharp exhales fill the room. you don’t realize it’s you.

a deep voice, that special kind of scary government-esque voice that means serious trouble, breaks through, “hey!”

cutting through your mind like a knife, your mind shifts to the right side of the room where the voice is coming from, hyperfocusing on all the details.

white light comes from the ceiling. it reflects off of the metal walls, the same color as the ones you ran through before. it feels like it’s been days since then. maybe it has.

the person who possesses the voice moves toward you, quickly and with purpose. their shoes clack across the black floor. 

they move past the other holding devices, ones that look exactly like the one you’re in- upright but titled at an angle, putting the prisoner in an awkward vulnerable position, cuffs around the ends, a cold feel of despair and fear crawling on them like slime.

other soldiers flood through the door. two of them. they follow the first one.

the three officials stand in front of you. silent. 

then they start whispering to each other. you don’t say anything. can’t actually, your voice box has gone unresponsive and clogged.

turning to you, the one seemingly in charge, barks, “what do you know about ha sooyoung?”

you freeze for a moment. you have no idea who that name belongs to.

“i- i don’t know,” you breath out.

“what?” the man steps closer to you, getting in your face.

“i don’t know!” you say louder this time, voice hitch.

“really? why are you here then?” the man doesn’t move away. you can smell his breath. peppermints, smoke, and death.

“i’m a reporter,” you say, clearer this time. hopefully there isn’t any harm in saying that. ratting out your country is the last thing you want to do.

“well then you must know all about her,” the officer stresses the all, moving closer.

you’re shaking at this point.

“i promise i don’t. i haven’t been to any major city in years. i- i don’t know anything. nothing.”

“i don’t believe you. no way you’re telling the truth. you sound too suspicious. not even knowing about ha sooyoung? your own general? impossible. kerek, get out the electrifier.”

“wait! no! please!” you scream without even registering your words. electrifier? this has to be a dream. you’re not going to be tortured. no. this can’t be happening. you can’t do this.

kerek, one of the man’s accomplices, moves to the edge of the room, retrieving the device. 

then he stops. a noise comes from the right side of the room where the door is.

someone opened it. they’re now standing in the doorway.

they move forward into the light, illuminating their small figure.

you can’t believe your eyes.

it’s yeojin.

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masterlist - previous - next

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[wearejapanese]

A Japanese person's perspective on the mini-series. Let's discuss!

As a naturalized Japanese-American who was born in Japan, speaks Japanese with family, and has lived in Japan for 10 years growing up, this mini-season was the absolute best thing I could have asked for. Binging it made my weekend!

Going into this, I immediately had this feeling in my gut knowing that there is an extremely large cultural difference between Japan and America, and was curious how effectively the show was going to explain that to the audience or if they were going to take a more shallow, "JAPAN IS SO KAWAII and COOL" route. People in Japan are EXTREMELY accustomed to the concept of "the nail that sticks out gets hammered down"; you should not be different or stand out, because you will be bullied and conforming is for your sake. Modesty, conforming, gender roles, being indirect and roundabout, and not being emotionally expressive are extremely big concepts in the Japanese psyche. Mental health, therapy, LGBT acceptance, being sexual, "doing me", straightforward emotional expression, embracing your curves, loving your body, etc. are not as prevalent in the general population as they are in America.

Kiko Mizuhara (who I've adored since I was a teenager living in Japan, she is so gorgeous and is in so many commercials in Japan) did a good job explaining and clarifying things to the Fab 5, although I wish she was featured a little bit more in each episode breaking things down more. The whole concept of a "guide" was really great, as she is decent at English and explained well, but I think the show could have done more with her.

1: Yoko was a fantastic hero to start off the season. The fact that she was spunkier than the average 50-year-old Japanese woman helped keep the episode lighthearted and appealing. She was so receptive and warm to the Fab 5 and it was a really feel-good episode overall. I think her episode helps viewers who are unfamiliar with Japanese social norms to get a taste of concepts like "throwing away your womanhood". I think the first slot was appropriate for this episode, as opposed to later. I was a bit sad that Bobby covered up a lot of the traditional Japanese interior of the community center, but I have to say the place ended up looking like it'd really be useful. I loved her transformation. It was really refreshing but still age-appropriate. In Japan, it'd be embarrassing to be talking about things like "How do you like the new me?", "I learned to have more self-confidence", etc. But the way she delivered her speech was soooooo...Japanese, so un-self-centered, it made her experience more digestible for the people there.

2: LGBT acceptance is really lacking in Japan compared to in the U.S. As soon as I saw the preview blurb on Netflix for this episode, I knew we were in for a doozy. Sure, there are still ignorant people anywhere, and still accepting people anywhere. But, as Kan expressed, it's extremely difficult to live "out and proud" in Japan with all of the social norms we grow up indoctrinated with. I thought Kan was the sweetest, most endearing lead, and he was also super receptive to the Fab 5, and I think it helped tremendously that he knew English so he could understand what they were saying. I also thought Kan was so brave to be so open on TV about his sexuality and I have so much gratitude for that. The scene with the monk and Kan breaking down about how he couldn't find support abroad or at home made me bawl my eyes out. I also really appreciated JVN telling Kan in the hair salon that it's radical and brave to love yourself and that's enough, you don't have to dress like him to be radical. Finally, sleeping on the floor is totally normal, and that is what a real futon is. The flat thing on the floor.

3: This was my second-favorite episode for a reason. It was so nuanced and definitely not the bubbliest or most happy. First of all, the mom haunts me. I am 100% Japanese, and my parents are both Japanese, live in Japan, only speak Japanese. They were traditional Asian Tiger parents growing up, and did a lot of things to me that I wouldn't ever do to my future kids. I don't talk to them about anything personal. I don't feel close to them. But, we get along decently in person, and they aren't bad people. Personally, in my opinion, something about Kae's mom gave me the heebie-jeebies. I got so much anxiety every time she came up on screen. There's obviously way more that has to be unpacked here. The pure, still rage on the mother's face when Kae said to Antoni that "she told me not to be in the kitchen so I felt uncomfortable to", the way the mom stirred the stuff in the pan with that blank stare, I felt extremely uncomfortable the whole cooking scene. And Antoni tried his hardest to get them to connect, but it just was a bit too "direct" to work well in Japan. I appreciated that Antoni heard out the mom when she said that saying "I love you" isn't normal in Japan, which is definitely true. The fact that the mother didn't recognize that bullying was a big deal literally floored me. The way she said "I think we're similar in that we both tend to not express our pain to our parents" really rubbed me the wrong way. That may be a fact, but it's not something to be content about or use as an excuse, it's something to improve upon. Sorry, I have a lot of thoughts on this topic from personal experience and also analyzing their body language and stuff from a Japanese perspective. Finally, I love JVN so much, but that hair was horrible. I wished he kept it pink or at least a dark burgundy. Also, loved seeing Naomi Watanabe in this episode and I think she was a great choice to inspire Kae - someone who can turn any situation into something lighthearted which will help Kae feel comfortable, while also being straight up, and with major star power! I don't know why tf Kiko got the drawing in the end, when she didn't even help, but oh well. Tan is so nice.

4: I knew guys kind of like Makoto growing up in Japan. Getting by in life, not openly into girls or dating, watching out for themselves, extremely introverted. Really fitting into the mold of what society accepts, because that's all they know how to do, think will be appreciated, and think is the right thing to do/think is enough. The way that Makoto's boss made that comment about how Makoto's wife is more out-spoken, saying what she wants, reflected the traditional gender roles and sexism that Japan still has. It had this undertone of like, women usually aren't like that. I really enjoyed this episode because it was honestly so...interesting. The dynamic between Makoto and Yasuko was really mind-boggling, right? I was so thrown off by all the things that were divulged about their marriage. I don't want to come across as disrespectful, but I honestly had a few moments in that episode where I thought Makoto was in the closet or something. Maybe it was editing. Did anyone else think that? However, I think that there are a ton of different types of people in the world - different personalities, ways of expressing themselves, childhoods, parenting styles that affect adult personality, all that stuff. Clearly, being from Japan where emotional expression is minimal and extremely indirect to begin with, along with maybe having a sad (?) childhood, and not being the most experienced with dating or relationships, I can see how Makoto and Yasuko unfortunately settled into this sibling-like relationship for 4 or so years. I think that they have a great shot at improving their relationship over time, and I think Karamo helped them so much with the yoga conversation where they finally opened up about their insecurities and unspoken worries. Also, I'm pretty sure they translated a bit wrong. Makoto is referring to Yasuko as the superhuman, not himself. He says to her, "Just the fact that you exist makes you a superhuman to me". Very sweet! His makeover also looked amazing, my favorite transformation of the season.

Overall, I'd rank the episodes in terms of how much I enjoyed them: 2, 3, 4, 1. How about you?

I think this mini-season excellently touched on a lot of really real social issues in Japan and presented how different things are in Japan compared to in the U.S. Do you have any questions about certain things that came up in an episode? I'd love to discuss with you and share my perspective.

(Reddit Conversation)

[raccoon-wizard]

Proud & Safe

Whoever you are and whoever you love, know that you deserve happiness and safety and love much like the other person does. Love and peace to all human beings <3

Prompt: imagine Loki feeling female one day and shape shifting accordingly. Someone makes a mention of how you, his girlfriend, would react to her "current state", eventually leading her to feel a little insecure about whether or not you'll accept this side of her.

From @imagine-loki :)

DISCLAIMER: I am not genderfluid myself, so it is possible that my depiction is not entirely correct. If you happen to see some inaccuracies, please let me know and I shall correct them.

Characters: Loki, the Avengers, you

Type: Fluff

Warnings: Language and sexual implications.

Notes: I am well aware that Pride Month is almost over, but ours isn’t until August, which I have no idea why. Anyway. Whoever you are and whoever you love, know that you deserve happiness and safety and love much like the other person does. Love and peace to all human beings <3

When Loki woke up that morning, he wasn’t feeling… well, he. That day, Loki’s mind saw the world as a woman. Making sure to make the body’s appearance match the mindset, she shapeshifted accordingly. Looking at her entire figure in the mirror, she realised she didn’t own any women’s clothes, and the men’s ones just didn’t fit her. She rummaged through her closet and found a dress that Y/N must have left behind. She sighed and put it on, noticing that it actually fit her quite well, though it was a little shorter than it was probably meant to be. Smiling to herself, she left the bedroom and headed to the kitchen to make herself her everyday cup of tea.

As she was stirring sugar into her beverage, she heard footsteps near her.

“Damn, did Steve finally get laid?” Tony’s voice asked her. She turned around rapidly, murdering him with her glare. “Holy shit!” he gasped. “Reindeer Games?”

“Good morning to you too, Anthony,” she greeted him, folding her arms on her chest. “You were saying?”

“I… I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “What’s… why are you…”

“I’m a woman today,” she shrugged.

“Oh… okay,” he mumbled and began preparing his own breakfast in silence. “Does Y/N know?” he wondered after a few minutes.

“I haven’t seen her yet,” she explained.

“You sure she won’t freak out?” he raised his eyebrows. “I mean, you haven’t been together that long, but… you know, this is a kind of thing that be… problematic.”

“Is it?” she stopped dead in her tracks. She didn’t even consider that. Among gods, her condition was rare, yes, but accepted as a pretty normal thing. After all, they were ancient magical beings. It never came to her mind that humans could be less accepting.

“Yeah, I mean…” Tony sighed. “It depends on the person really, but there’s many people who struggle because of this kind of thing. Ever heard of the Pride?”

Tony spent the morning explaining human’s relationship with gender and orientation. He showed her many clips of these Pride Parades, which seemed to be celebrating the rarities such as herself. But he also showed her what people did when they disagreed. When they saw differently gendered people as monsters, nature’s flaws, freaks. She nearly broke into tears when she read what some people were capable of. It made her wonder whether Y/N would be understanding enough, the fear eating her alive.

As if on cue, a group walked into the kitchen, consisting of her brother, Captain Rogers, James Barnes, Samuel Wilson, and Y/N. They all went for a run each morning, insisting that a group jog was much more fun than a solo one.

“Good morning, sister!” Thor greeted her before she could do anything. Hide under the table perhaps. The rest of the group froze, Y/N included. She stared at her, her mouth hanging open slightly, the shock in her eyes slowly changing into pure anger. Loki’s throat tightened and she turned away, staring into her cup.

“Why the fork does my dress look so much better on you than it ever has on me?” she asked.

She turned back, tears in her eyes, confused. “What?”

“You look absolutely amazing!” she exclaimed. “That’s my favourite dress, I thought no one could ever wear it better! Rude!”

“Maybe ‘cause his… her legs are kinda longer,” Sam suggested.

“Hey!” Y/N’s head whipped around. “That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about, asshole.”

Y/N’s words made Loki’s heart flutter and a smile creep up her face. She watched as Sam tried to defend himself, rambling hopelessly. She caught Y/N’s eye and smiled even wider. Y/N dismissed Sam and walked over to her, grinning.

“So, girlfriend,” Y/N whispered softly. “Were you ever going to tell me about this, or was I supposed to find out like this?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise that you Midgardians don’t… that it’s not considered normal here,” Loki tried to explain herself. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Offend me?” Y/N frowned. “Why should it offend me?”

“I… Stark showed me some… videos of what people sometimes think about… people like me,” she stuttered. “And what they do.”

“Babe,” Y/N sighed and gently cupped Loki’s cheeks. “Yeah, there are people like that. And they suck. But me and the rest of this team, we would never, never, hurt you, do you hear me?” she asked gently, putting a strand of hair behind Loki’s ear. “Not in a million years. You’re safe with us. With me.”

A tear slipped down Loki’s cheek as she blinked. “And it wouldn’t… change what we are?”

“Of course not, darling,” Y/N smiled. “You think I was with you this whole time just for that dick?”

Loki chuckled, blush coming up her cheeks.

“That would be pretty shallow of me, wouldn’t it?” she continued. “I mean, it was a pretty impressive bonus, but…” Loki laughed out loud this time, the rest of the tears falling down. “You know, it wasn’t the point.”

There was now a genuine smile on Loki’s lips.

“That’s much better, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, leaning in to kiss her tenderly, noting how much softer her lips felt now.

The rest of the people were still in the kitchen as well, politely trying to ignore them, but failing for the most part. When the couple noticed their barely masked side glances, Y/N smirked.

“Darling, how about we get out of here and go shopping?” she suggested. “As much as I adore that dress on you, you need your own clothes.”

“That sounds like fun,” Loki nodded. Y/N grinned widely and grabbing Loki’s hand, they ran out of the kitchen towards Y/N’s room. “I need to take a shower first, I stink,” she explained and disappeared into the bathroom. Loki sat on Y/N’s bed and waited, listening to the sound of her singing from the shower and smiling. A massive weight was lifted off of her chest, her heart swelling with relief and happiness.

She looked around the room - she knew it well, she had spent many nights there before, just as many as Y/N had spent in her room, but through woman’s eyes, she saw it differently. She noticed a little desk with a big mirror and make up sprawled all over it.

“Y/N?” she called.

“Yes, babe?” Y/N responded after turning the water off.

“Would you mind if I borrowed your make up?” she asked shyly.

“No, not at all, help yourself,” Y/N said. “I’ll be out in a moment, I just need to dry my hair.”

“Thank you,” Loki smiled to herself and sat down in front of the mirror.

She soon found out that it was much more complicated than she had anticipated. Mascara seemed to want to go everywhere but her eyelashes, the colours didn’t suit her and she nearly stabbed her eye out with eyeliner. And not to mention the disaster that the lipstick caused.

“You’re hopeless, aren’t you?” she heard Y/N’s voice from behind her. Their eyes met in the mirror and she could see how hard she was trying to fight back a smirk.

“I… I’ve never tried using these before, I just thought I’d wing it,” she explained, looking down at her hands with smears of different colours.

“Would be much simpler if it were like that, wouldn’t it,” Y/N chuckled and pulled a chair next to her. “Here, let me,” she mumbled, grabbing a bottle of make up remover and a few cotton balls. She gently rubbed Loki’s failed attempt away before starting over.

“You’re a lot paler than me, that’s why the colours don’t quite fit,” she explained. “It’s not like you really need make up when your skin is that flawless anyway. We can get you your own if you’d like though.”

Loki didn’t say a word, worried that if she moved even in the slightest, she would ruin Y/N’s work. She felt her fingers grazing her skin and different brushes move around and enjoyed the sensations.

“Ta-da!” Y/N grinned. “What do you think?”

Loki opened her eyes and looked at herself in the mirror. It was definitely better than what she had attempted first - the mascara was where it belonged, the eyeliner was perfectly straight and the lipstick that Y/N had chosen fit her much better.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I… I feel beautiful now.”

“You shouldn’t need make up for that, babe, you are gorgeous,” Y/N smiled, lightly pecking her lips, careful not to smear the lipstick. “Like seriously. You’re just… wow. That’s perfection right there.”

“Do you really think so?” Loki wondered.

“Of course, hot stuff,” she insisted. “You have everything a girl could want regarding looks. I’m not sure if I want to bang you or be you.”

Loki blushed for the second time that day. “Sh-shall we go then?” she stuttered.

“Sure,” Y/N nodded.

They went to the mall together, spending the entire day just wandering around, trying on clothes that they deemed nice. Y/N was swooning over Loki the whole time, which made her feel a lot better about the whole situation. The adoration in her eyes was something she was not used to.

They even went to a lingerie store, a place that she had never thought she would visit. They both got a few things for themselves, helping the other one pick the best looking ones.

"By the way," Y/N said from the changing room. "Do you prefer a different name in this form or is calling you Loki still fine?"

"No, Loki is fine," she replied while checking herself in the mirror.

"Great," Y/N grinned. "Didn't wanna be saying a wrong name tonight."

"Heaven's sake, Y/N," Loki rolled her eyes, but there was a playful smile on her lips.

"Oh, that sounds lovely," Y/N continued flirtatiously. "Remember that for me please. I want to put these pretty little things to use as soon as possible if that's okay with you."

"Absolutely, darling," Loki chuckled.

And truthfully, that night, Loki's name echoed from her bedroom walls, along with whispered profanities and Heaven's sake, Y/N.

A few months later, Loki, this time in his male form, took Y/N for a walk around the city. After all, it was a beautiful  day; the sun was shining and there were only a few fluffy white clouds on the gorgeous blue sky. But it confused her significantly, seeing that he hated going out and he didn't really know the city. But whenever she tried to ask about it, he shushed her, smirking mischievously, which only made her curiosity rise.

"Come on, do you really think I'm buying the just a walk bullshit?" she tried again. "I'm not dumb. I mean, I am incredibly dumb, but not like this. What's going on, babe?"

"Well, we're almost there now, so I might as well tell you," he sighed in defeat.

"Almost where?" she frowned.

"Do you remember how Stark showed me what people did to people like me?" he asked.

"Of course I do," she nodded. "Oh! We're going to burn some asshole's house down, aren't we?"

"No, darling, although I would love to do that," he grinned. "No. But I decided that it's absolutely unacceptable. So I decided to help."

"How?" she wondered.

"With Stark's help, I bought a house," he began explaining. "And I turned it into a secret hideaway for those who find themselves in danger because of who they are and who they love. And no asshole can ever find it."

"So… how do the ones in need find it if it's so secret?" she questioned.

"Brilliant question, love," he smiled. "It is protected by magic. Only those who need it can find it. When they get, for example, kicked out of their home because of their identity, they will be drawn to the house without even realising. They will just sort of… wander in. And they will be safe until they are ready to leave. Or they don't have to. They can stay forever."

"But… there's so many queer people who need help, can they fit?"

"That's another great trick," he told her. "Strange helped me with that one. It is always big enough on the inside, no matter how small the outside might seem."

"You built a forkin' TARDIS and you didn't tell me?!" she gasped. "Okay. So it's big enough. But what if there's a gay kid in, like, Nevada? Can they get in too?"

"Absolutely," Loki nodded. "It actually transcends this reality in a way. The entrances are all over this world. I modelled it after Yggdrasil."

"Oh my God," she choked out. "You… you just singlehandedly saved the world."

"I wouldn't exactly use that phrase-"

"No, you did!" she insisted, throwing herself at him and squeezing him in a hug. "You took one of the biggest struggles of modern humanity and solved it just like that. You're the best person to ever walk the Earth and you're not even from the Earth."

"You haven't even seen the house yet, love," he laughed, kissing the top of her head. "Come on, we're almost there."

He led her through the suburbs of New York, full of rich people's homes. At the end of one street, she spotted a building that wouldn't be much different from the rest, save it for the gigantic rainbow flag hanging from the balcony.

"Are you sure The Straights will completely miss this place?" she asked. "This is pretty obvious to me."

"Don't worry, only those who are meant to see it will," he explained. "Every possible threat has been accounted for. This is the safest place on Earth."

[aceandsparrow]

Survivor 40: Premiere

[A] Winners at War! The best of the best! The greatest of the greats! ...I will still have moments of "I don't remember that person..."

[A] I've been reading a lot of the pre-premiere media and there are two things I'd like to share: (1) Most people are upset that Cochran isn't included. He didn't want to come back; didn't think he'd do well and also doesn't want his last Survivor memory to be having his torch snuffed. I get it, but he will be missed. (2) Whatever the fuck "fire tokens" are, they sound stupid and unnecessary.

[S] I hate most of these people but there are a few I don't mind rooting for. Rob. Amber. Ben. [A] I'm going to have a hard time finding someone to root for. Ethan/Yul are good old school players. Rob is always easy to like. But the list I hate is long: Tony, Sarah, Nick, Tyson, Natalie, Parvati "Phoenix rising from the ashes ready to burn down your house" Shallow…

[S] Parvati and Ethan are basically polar opposites.

[S] Sandra, did you tell Rob you were coming back?

[A] Why separate them by gender on the boats? It's unnecessary. They are all previous winners. Thank god they aren’t playing men vs. women.

[S] I definitely don't remember some of these people.  Who the fuck is Adam? Denise? [A] Adam was recent and boring. He was the millennials winner IIRC. I don't remember Denise. Who the hell is Sophie?

[S] Wonder who Amber and Rob would give their tokens to? [A] I momentarily forgot about Amber being here. THE DRAMA.

[A] They're going to target Rob and Amber off the bat and I hate it. They are good characters and I want them around at least to the merge.

[A] I feel like the red team has 2-3 people who are going to eat these lesser-knowns alive.

[A] Such good acting by all of them because they knew the $2 million prize when they signed their contracts...

[S] Seriously. Fuck letting people who are voted out come back. [A] Part of my pre-read is that the players wouldn't agree to come back without something like Edge of Extinction existing. They didn't want to come back and have it be one and done. It wasn't worth their time.

[S] The immunity trophy is pretty badass. [A] Props to the prop department - that trophy is awesome.

[A] I thought they stopped these types of challenges because of too many injuries. Guess everything goes out the window when it's all winners.

[S] LOL that wave almost made Jeff fall over.

[S] Me: I hope Natalie goes home first. Me ten seconds later: I hope Sarah goes home first. [A] Both of these are valid go homes first. Also Tony.

[S] Such terrible strategy. Fastest swimmer gets the lifesaver, throws it to teammate who stayed at pole.

[S] Conflicted Amber.

[S] Denise lost her tribe this challenge. Why did she let go of the ring?

[S] Surely these players don't need flint for fire. [A] I'm betting there are still some who can't even make fire WITH flint. Luckily, they can currently rely on a tribemate to get them fire.

[S] As opposed to all of the other gimmicks, I like the tokens.

[S] The crying has already started… [A] Tyson was not the person I expected to cry first and be all sentimental about family. 

[A] Sandra, you have a target on your back regardless of the nickname "queen."

[S] Seeing Ethan reminds me how great a season Africa was. [A] Ethan played when I was graduating high school/starting college. Shit. Also, yes, Africa was an amazing season. No idols, no hidden immunities, no chances to get back in the game. Pure outwit, outplay, outlast.

[A] I want an older winner to win. I want them to adapt and prove that the older players are still a threat.

[S] So the people I completely forgot teamed up to be the most forgettable duo of season 40. Makes sense. 

[A] Truth: why make the rookie move and go off at the start? Idiots.

[A] LMAO. Cuts to Tony talking about how it's taking everything for him not to go off on his own and look.

[S] That's adorable crying, Amber. They're a great couple. 

[A] The idea of Wendell and Yul being in an alliance together is hilarious to me and I don't know why.

[A] Oh god, no. Not Rob and Parvati. Please no. [S] Rob! Don't make a deal with the devil!

[A] Rob: "I don't think we should let the new school people dictate how the game goes." Yes. This.

[A] Who's Danni? [S] Yeah I don't know who Danni is either.

[S] You found yourself around all those winners by winning, Ben. [A] Ben is an adorable fanboy. 

[S] "We are playing Survivor for ten people." LOL. I love Rob.

[A] I anticipate the dreaded tribal whispering since they didn't seem to make a decision prior to tribal. I look forward to Ethan's facial reactions to how tribal has evolved into an even bigger shit show.

[S] FUCK TRIBAL WHISPERING!

[S] All the talk but I still bet it's Rob.

[A] Question: when they bequeath their fire tokens to someone still in the game, is it public knowledge or secretly slipped into their bag? Because at this rate, you know Adam-Denise will bequeath to each other and Natalie-Jeremy will bequeath to each other.

[A] Who's Michelle?

[A] Jeff: "If anyone has a hidden immunity idol.." Ethan: *tenses up so tightly*

[S] NOT SAD ABOUT THAT! Next is Sarah please. [A] Not sad about that vote at all. She is going to struggle on Extinction.

[S] LOL both twins got voted out first.

[A] Here is my shocked face that she gave her token to Jeremy. Also just proves that they were smart to separate them.

-----

[S] Aight, Sandra has got to go. [A] Agreed. Sandra is scheming. 

[A] The fact that Sandra-Sarah-Tony are all chummy is disturbing.

[A] Answer: Okay, looks like they just slip the tokens into your bag. Interesting.

[S] Can you give your token to someone or do you HAVE to wait until you are voted out? [A] I wondered the same thing - like can you and someone else in the game combine your tokens to get something?

[A] This season has too many twists. Seriously. Natalie can sell an idol to someone to get tokens? 

[A] Rob is a goddamn workhorse in this challenge. Jesus.

[S] They are gonna vote out the guy who literally carried them on his back… [A] LITERALLY. [S] Oh, nevermind. Jeremy decided he didn't want to lose.

[A] I like the names Tony and Sandra being thrown out, but I fear for Amber. I also fear for anyone involved in the Amber vote because Rob will be out for blood.

[A] "Are we crazy not to get Sandra out first?" Yes. 100% yes.

[S] You sold it to SANDRA? [A] OH YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME SHE SOLD IT TO SANDRA?!

[A] What happens if they refuse the deal? Would they get to pick a new person or is it just a fail and they move on?

[S] Also, why the fuck are all these people believing Sandra?

[S] Amber going, I'll never forgive Sandra. Neither will Rob. [A] Poor Amber. 

[S] How the fuck did they all get so played by Sandra? No one on that tribe deserves to win this season. [A] Remember when I said red has "2-3 people who are going to eat these lesser-knowns alive?" This is the start of that.

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Taylor you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Bellatrix Black

↳ please refer to our character checklist

I don’t think screaming really begins to describe the sounds I made while I read over your audition. You painted Bellatrix in such an intense light that flows so well with the woman we all know she becomes. I can’t wait to see what your version of her will bring to the group, and if we’re being honest I’m mostly excited for the chaos that having Bellatrix is going to be bringing. I know that you have so much up your sleeves for us and I can’t wait to see the twisted turns you throw our way! *Your faceclaim change has been accepted.

application beneath the cut

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Hey, it’s Taylor! 19, in EST and still using female pronouns

ACTIVITY

About the same as it has been, so I’ll let that be a speaking factor for itself.

TRIGGERS

None that aren’t listed.

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

I’ve lived here for two years :)

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

I go between Harry and Ron. Usually it depends on the day.

IN CHARACTER

Bellatrix Druella Lestrange (nee Black)

Bellatrix is the third brightest start from Orion, which certainly played a part in her naming. It also stands to mean female warrior, something that she herself is quite proud of.

Druella, her mother’s name, was a bitter sort of present that holds a great deal of resentment even still.

BIRTHDAY / STAR SIGN

October 31, 1950, making her a Scorpio

OCCUPATION

Bellatrix is unemployed, and under no belief that she needs to change that. She has wealth, and devotes most of her time to being Voldemort’s right hand as need be. Though, that’s not to say she isn’t using her husband’s newest appointment as Minister to her own advantage. The very minute he took over she was there, inserting herself into every decision.

FACE CLAIM

Jade Tailor would be my first choice, otherwise Alexandra Park.

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

Oh man, I don’t even know where to start. Bellatrix was a character that, when I first began writing her, utterly terrified me. She’s such a well known and terrifying character that little, seventeen year old me was so intimidated. But somehow I got the hang of it, and somehow with time I learned to mesh with her incredibly well. There is so much more to Bellatrix Lestrange than what we come to see in canon; she is a villain, and a good one.  But far more dimensional than anyone gives her credit for.

I’m a firm believer that Bellatrix was not born as mad as we see her in the canon series. Yes, she’s more than a little unhinged and feels little remorse for the horrific things that she does.  But she is not so far gone that she is as horrifyingly crazy as we see her during the second war. Before Azkaban, Bellatrix was actually rather sane. She was put together, cared about her appearance; she was wild and deeply resented anything resembling the stereotypes that Narcissa had been bred to portray. But she did care for her image. So she built a new one. It wasn’t until after spending a decade in prison, surrounded by Dementors that fed off her worst memories, that she truly became manic. Her time in prison was a never ending loop of the time after Sirius and Andromeda left their family. A loop of the disappointment she was faced with afterwards, by their father who suddenly decided Bella needed to be more. As if she was never enough in the first place.

First born to the Black family, she should have been the pride and joy - except for one factor neither Druella nor Cygnus ever seemed to get past: she lacked a dick. It was for that reason she was never really shown love, until the day Andromeda was born. Having her first sister was more a thing of tolerance for Bella, though she had a great amount of affection for her. From the day she was born, Bellatrix knew she was going to protect her. She was going to have to. And then Narcissa was born, and for the first time in her life, Bellatrix Black felt genuine love in the bright eyes of her youngest sister.

As children, Bellatrix adored them both and would have killed to protect them (and maybe did, at a time.) But as she got older, things began to change. As she neared the end of her Hogwarts career, Bellatrix discovered the power of Voldemort in a way that Cygnus has never introduced her to. She took the Mark eagerly at the young age of sixteen, and that was enough to set her on her path. Suddenly there was someone who believed in her for more than anything her own family had ever believed. Maybe some people thought he was a devil, but to Bella, the Dark Lord was a god. He saved her, or so she believes. Showed her the praise and delight when she strives for success in a way her family never had.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Bellatrix is of the firm belief that there isn’t a point in love. Her parents never showed her any, her own sister left. Romantic love of any sort seems quite useless. It wasn’t always that way, at one point in Hogwarts she was in love without realizing it. A student from Bulgaria had spent a year in the castle, and she was captivating. Bella was enamored and when Viktoria left, she pointedly decided that was the end of things. She hadn’t even wanted to marry, but after her sister’s betrayal there was no choice, and she is well aware there are worse out there than Rodolphus. She may not be in love with him, but she does regard him as her other half, the right match.

As for her sexuality, it falls somewhere in the bisexual range but more prone to woman. Of course, she doesn’t ever think much of it and has come to get off purely on power, but that’s beside the point.

Proud to be a woman from the moment she was old enough to understand why her father hated her, Bellatrix did everything in her power to own it. She would never be as feminine as her Cissa, but she was going to own it. So she wasn’t born with a dick, that was a power move that needs to be erased; even if she doesn’t have one, Bellatrix has made it well known that she has more power than most men, and she likes it that way.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER

-A moodboard (x) -An aesthetic (x) -A mockblog ;)

Intelligent (adjective) - having or showing intelligence, especially at a high level ; Bellatrix was always a very gifted student, a bright girl – true to her name existing among stars, she shone brightly amongst even the darkest circumstances. In Hogwarts she topped every class she took. She reads people with excellence, detecting how people think before they even do themselves. She is perceptive, and smart. It’s part of what drew her to her Dark Lord…what got her named his favorite, among all his men.

Capable (adjective) - able to achieve efficiently whatever one has to do ; it would truly be a thing to curse the day one looked Bellatrix Lestrange in the eye and told her ‘you can’t.’ An impeccably strong and determined woman, when her mind is made up you can be certain she will follow throw. Magical prowess and determination to succeed could very well play a large part in her abilities; just as being a woman among high ranks – she fought her way to the top. And to descend would be a fall she wouldn’t be willing to take.

Apathetic (adjective) - showing or feeling no emotion ; feelings show weakness, and weakness – well. Bellatrix knows all too well how dangerous those can be. She likes to think she let them go – very deep down, extremely deep, they exist. Though the only person to ever truly spark that is Narcissa. As far as Bella is concerned, they’ve become so deeply buried they are gone. Trapping as that may be, she’s felt free ever since.

Explosive (adjective) - able or likely to shatter violently ; there are many things which may be said to blame for Bellatrix and her violent tendencies. Rumours abound as to what it is that makes her so easily set off - perhaps it was her childhood. Perhaps being a woman stronger than many men in a predominately men’s world. Rage has been swelling, building for a lifetime. A dangerous time bomb which has gone off in spades since joining the Dark Lord’s forces, but has never truly exploded.

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Patronus - while Bellatrix is a very powerful witch, she is incapable of producing the Patronus charm. Her happiest memories existed only when her sisters were together, and with Andromeda’s betrayal, they’ve been tainted. Other than that, her happiest memories are sadistic, and not at all powerful enough for the charm to work, though if it were to it would display as a dragon – explosive, beautiful, powerful and dangerous.

Boggart - her parents, or more specifically, Cygnus. While Bella would like to pretend she has no fears, deep down she is always aware of the fear she has held towards the man since she was little. The fears of being a disappointment, being disowned for that very reason, being a disgrace to her family, the Cause, her beliefs.

Mirror of Erised - if asked Bella would claim it would be nothing but a world the Cause is aiming for - one that is pure and better. But as shallow as she appears at times, Bellatrix wants much more than that and even she isn’t aware of her heart’s desires, because of the walls she’s built to protect it. In all honestly, she would see herself happy, truly happy in ways every woman craves. But even Bella knows better, knowledge of that craving or not.

Seven Devils by Florence and the Machine ‘ Holy water cannot help you now See I’ve had to burn your kingdom down And no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out I’m gonna raise the stakes, I’m gonna smoke you out’

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it: “Something to detect and repel those of lesser than myself. A spell of course, potions and charms are boring and hardly comprable. I myself wouldn’t name it, I have plenty of better things to do, but I can assure you it would be of great use to me.”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you: “I don’t have to do anything, especially venture into that forsaken forest. However, if I ever did, Rodolphus would accompany me and probably bitch about his shoes the whole time but he’s the first choice. I would need nothing but my wand, you daft cretin, I’m entirely powerful with that alone.”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make? “Ones that require patience, I suppose. I never had any of that.”

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you? “That I’m a sympathizer. I’d hate to be the fool that ever made that mistake.”

REACTION TO LAST EVENT DROP

Bellatrix is growing impatient, and fast. Things had been looking up when Rodolphus took office but now, with the way Aversio and the Order both seem to be gaining power, she is increasingly angry. Action needs to be taken and fast, anyone that stands in their way wiped out. And while she is, for now, only awaiting Voldemort’s approval, she’s started to wonder just how long he plans to wait.

WRITING SAMPLE

One day stood out in her mind, high above all else, constantly encircling as if a bird waiting for its prey, a snake just waiting for a chance to slide forward and attack. The day that Bellatrix Druella Lestrange Black, always Black, had lost the humanity that had remained…the day that her beloved sister, her dearest, gentle Andromeda had left them. All for a worthless excuse of a wizard, a Mudblood, a man who had nothing to offer her except the loss of her family, of those whose flowing crimson was the very same as her own. Those she was meant to be with.

Andromeda had, in her foolish attempt at seeking forgiveness, searching a chance to remain with her family while betraying them, had pleaded. Begged for understanding, a chance to explain, to grovel pathetically at her elder sister’s feet. The day held high above all the rest, on a flaming beacon in the depths of her mind which never faded, even after countless missions, progressive days. How foolish it had been of her sister (no, she mustn’t allow herself to think that way - how foolish, how stupid, a sad habit of so many years lost that needed extracted from her mind just as all impurities must be from the wizarding world), to wish for forgiveness.

How ridiculously idiotic she felt now, to think of it. To look back at how worried she had been for her sister. Andromeda had always been softer than she - had always been much quieter when the ever-present topic of blood and purity and war came about. Not once in the whole of her lifetime had Bellatrix judged her - if the day came to ask Andromeda to stand beside her, the eldest of all Black children strongly believed she would. She had expected better of her sister, expected more than to simply be tossed aside like the trash, with less respect than even the damned House Elves received upon their deaths. To be tossed out like garbage for the sake of the lowest scum the world had to offer. A Mudblood.

It was insulting, if nothing else, but it was far more than that - it was disgusting and repulsive. Even the mere thought of it made her stomach churn. Her sister, her blood had left them for a filthy, disgusting excuse of ‘wizard.’ Pure filth.

Had Andromeda not cared for her at all?

A tragic use of valuable time, it was, to dwell on something so disgusting and unimportant. Andromeda had made her choice, in choosing to become a blood traitor, to turn her back to their family, to Bellatrix herself. She wouldn’t think of the woman ever again. Leaving her alone had been a kindness, and yet, cruelty in what was only one of its most powerful forms.

Yes, she let Andromeda leave them…for the Blacks would carry on. Preserve purity and wipe anything which threatened to risk such away, leaving the true pristine wizarding world Narcissa’s children would deserve.

For how much more satisfactory it would be to watch Andromeda lost everything she had left for.

[diarrheaworldstarhiphop]

‘Blade Runner 2049 has a women problem,” cried the internet this weekend, as the critically praised sci-fi sequel hit cinemas. Tweets and blogs cited the fact that female characters were treated as sex objects, and that the narrative was almost entirely driven by men, including Ryan Gosling’s replicant-hunter K and his predecessor Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford). Outrage quickly spread, including from those who had not yet seen the film.

As someone who has, I’m not surprised. While I was transfixed by the film’s visual prowess, score, fascinating plot and fidelity to the original, I was troubled by the character of Joi (Ana de Armas) in particular. An operating system who is bought by K to act as a doting, doe-eyed housewife, she appears to him in hologram form as and when he dictates, wearing and saying whatever she thinks suits his mood. Understandably, Joi has been called “a sci-fi fanboy’s wet dream”. Her owner’s emotional demands dictate whether she is in sexy or demure mode (flashback to Arnold Schwarzenegger creating his dream girl in Total Recall). How are we supposed to admire a hero whose key relationship is with a woman of his own creation who will submit to his every demand and can be switched on and off as he pleases?

I was reminded of the highly problematic scene in Ridley Scott’s 1982 original, Blade Runner, in which Deckard strong-arms replicant Rachael (Sean Young) into kissing him. This scene was on my mind when I interviewed Blade Runner 2049 director Denis Villeneuve, who said he was attracted to the script (written by two men) partly due to the many female characters. “It’s a movie that shows different facets of femininity,” he said. I was hopeful.

And, indeed, there are a number of characters. Robin Wright is terrific but underused as K’s slick, strong, black-clad boss, Lieutenant Joshi, and Sylvia Hoeks’s icy baddie Luv is great fun, but in thrall to her male boss (sinister replicant-creator Wallace, played by Jared Leto). Mackenzie Davis’s Mariette shows initial promise as a strong character who can give as good as she gets, but she is also a sex worker who is literally used as a puppet. Visually, sexualised images of women dominate the stunning futuristic cityscapes, from pirouetting ballerinas to giant statues of naked women in heels looming over K as he goes on his journey. Of course, one of the themes of Blade Runner 2049 is a world littered with artifice, from replicants to sexbots – but these mainly seem to cater to heterosexual males. A hint of a woman considering a “pleasure model” is brief and unexplored. Meanwhile Wright’s Joshi appears attracted to K, but she is not permitted to use him for her sexual pleasure. Where is her holographic lover, her Joi?

Tweeters have also declared that Blade Runner 2049 fails the Bechdel test, which requires a film to feature two named female characters talking to each other about something other than a man. Personally, I think Blade Runner 2049 could narrowly pass, but the point remains: the film revolves around its male heroes and their needs. And it is not just strong women who are under-represented; there are very few non-white characters. One of the few who does appear on screen is a sex worker who barely speaks – so it is little surprise that the film is being criticised for its lack of diversity.

Meanwhile, 2049’s defenders have said the film is set in a dystopian future – and that it is not our future, but the future of the Blade Runner universe, as set by the 1982 film based on Philip K Dick’s 1968 sci-fi novel. This much is true: so why not explore that world’s treatment of women, rather than have it as a decorative backdrop, huge breasts and ballet-dancing holograms included?

While some women are questioning whether or not they should see the new film, I would not suggest boycotting it for its depiction of women. That audiences today are alert to discussing depictions of female characters in film is progress in itself. But it is worth thinking about whether this is the future we want for women in film. I hope Blade Runner 2049 gets its own sequel: there is the raw material for a much more nuanced depiction of gender relations. And perhaps a woman could write or direct the next one, too.

>joi is a signifier of K’s and man’s obsession with artificial, vapid material delights. The purely fantasy driven, unrealistic expectation of women as companion.

>she is even introduced to the audience by emerging from the kitchen, literally, in a 1950s housewife outfit. That is no accident and serve a purpose in being performed within a dystopian landscape.

>this realization washes over him while looking at the massive, sexualized holographic advertisement of the Joi commercial product near the end of the film, bashing the realization over his head how foolish he was for being so endeared by a product explicitly made to cater to every one of this shallow desires.

Of course, one of the themes of Blade Runner 2049 is a world littered with artifice, from replicants to sexbots – but these mainly seem to cater to heterosexual males. A hint of a woman considering a “pleasure model” is brief and unexplored.

The author completely steps over the role of Joshi, who owns K the way K owns Joi. Joshi is also not immune from the impulse that robots are for personal and professional gain as she too projects her own loneliness and insecurity onto her property, the way K does to Joi.

All of this part of a broader feminist commentary prevalent throughout the movie of the mysticism of woman through female reproduction and the male rage over being unable to master everything about nature, as seen in Jared Leto’s Niander Wallace who OWNS everything, produces much with his face across it throughout the galaxy, yet is wrapped up in his rage over his inability to master female fecundity. The limits of his power. He slashes a newly produced female replicant on her belly, in sharp rage toward his impotence. He can build “women” and robots to serve him, but there’s still something even the most powerful man can not do. So by extension, and related to K’s relationship to Joi, woman can not be mastered, simulated or replicated by male supremacy. The male supremacy in this dystopia just yields artifice and shallow fantasies.

This much is true: so why not explore that world’s treatment of women, rather than have it as a decorative backdrop, huge breasts and ballet-dancing holograms included?

...

I hope Blade Runner 2049 gets its own sequel: there is the raw material for a much more nuanced depiction of gender relations.

omg, the nuance was IN THIS MOVIE THO. This author’s entire gripe is that the gender relations were TOO NUANCED!

Hell, the whole *SPOOOOOOILERS* twist at the end is that K is sooooo wrapped up in the fantasy of being the nascent male hero of this story that he is crushed to find out that no, he’s not, but rather it’s a woman. He’s merely an accessory to her ascent. An ascent that hints at a greater story than his, now that his is abruptly cut short. A cherry on top of a series of REALITY CHECKS to K’s assumed artificial male fantasies as he lays, dying, contemplating his newfound humanity as knowing he died for a cause greater than himself.

Human, and replicant destiny belongs to and requires women, not male aspiration.

The entire movie is produced in the trappings of K’s self-absorbed fantasies, so exploring “gender relations” the way the author wants would distract from and fuck the film up.

Considering 2049 was intended to set up a series of films, it’s entirely likely that future additions would indeed explore this. But now it’s unlikely, because it’s a box office failure, particularly because it’s reputation got dragged online for it’s sexist themes. By people who didnt see the movie, no less..

why cant these bbbbasic “feminist” media journos grasp metaphor and symbolism?

There’s alot of feminist critique to draw from this film, but people again get whipped up by social media and get lost in the surface depiction of sexism on screen without realizing there’s a purpose to that and a greater meaning to draw from it than the simple, stupid brainlet reading who is only concerned by whether or not the female representation is POSITIVE rather than having profundity or depth. Or about whether or not one woman talks to another woman about eggo waffles or something that doesnt involve a man at any point in the movie.

This is why we have stupid, fucking, vapid shallow protags like Rey from star wars, who face no adversity or really represent much else than female power fantasies.

im kinda pissed that 2049 is being passed off by because it fails to offer the same shallow fantasies found in other pandering, transparently cashgrab movies. but whatever, it’s cult following and appreciation will develop long after it falls out of theatres.

[stillrecruitingrp]

The D.A. has recruited Pat to the character of Lavender Brown with a faceclaim of Alex Steele. Take a look in your teacups, girl. Do you really see yourself ever making up for your mother’s failure?

OOC Details

Name: Pat

Pronouns: she/her

Activity Level: Right now I’m studying for my licensing exam and looking for work. I feel like I can be pretty active between that, family obligations, and other writing groups. At the very least, I can check in a few times a week!

Acknowledgement: I acknowledge that the themes of this game may include triggering elements. I also acknowledge that my character may be harmed or even killed during paras/events or may cause harm to or kill others during paras/events through the violence roulette.

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General IC Details

Name: Lavender Brown

Age: 18; seventh year

Ships: Lavender/chemistry is the most important! I imagine that she’s bicurious though, but it’s not something she’s actually thought about for a while.

Gender/Pronouns: she/her

Face Claim: 1. Alex Steele, 2. Liza Soberano, 3. Kelsey Chow

Desired Changes: Lavender has a squib parent now

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Bio Questions

Biography:

Violet Brown amicably said goodbye to the wizarding world once she was old enough to figure her life out without her parents’ care. Squibs were not only an anomaly but a disgrace in many circles, so it was difficult to leave quietly when her family was already scrutinized.  Several years in hiding within the muggle community, she was able to live with her partner and eventually carried a daughter through a surrogate donor.  

Lavender raised by two mothers, so already she understood that she was a bit different from a young age and was proud of it. It felt like the world had a problem with her family and her parents instilled the idea of killing them with kindness; despite all of the awful things people say, it was never a good look to retaliate. The only metaphor that resonated with Lavender was she had to carry herself like a princess – and her parents were more than willing to spend a little more money to help her dress like one.

Her favorite movie, however, was the Aristocats, if only because it inspired her mantra: ladies don’t start fights, but they can finish them. While Lavender herself never tried to take part in any physical fighting, she could hold a grudge like no other. She tended to bide her time until she became a bit of a saboteur when the opportunity presented herself.

Violet raised her daughter on stories about the wizarding world, reading her stories from books that seemed to be impossible to find elsewhere. Lavender was never aware there was a second world – because Violet assumed that her daughter wouldn’t be magical as well – but was mostly convinced that these stories were created just for her.

Her Hogwarts letter only confirmed further that most of Violet had told her was true, and it was difficult for Lavender not to be in awe – especially since she felt like an expert in all things magical just based on what she had been told as a child. It was also the first time she had met her grandparents through Violet, who needed help raising a magical daughter. Lavender’s magical abilities set new hope aflame for the Brown family; while she may not be a pureblood, the magical lineage did not end after Violet.

Once sorted, she had never felt more welcome in Gryffindor house. She became fast friends with Parvati Patil, who had grown up to be magical herself, so most of Lavender’s introduction to the prejudices of the wizarding world was because of how Parvati told about her past experiences; Lavender only then realized how strange of a predicament her mother had been in her entire life, and put that as just another fact about herself that made her separate from everyone else.

Lavender was probably average academically when she started her coursework, but often asked her fellow Gryffindors for help regardless of whether or not she understood the material. After all, what better way to make friends? Lavender gets along with everyone, or so she believes; she’s driven by this need to be liked, to be accepted, especially considering that her childhood was marked by the fact that she hasn’t been. It’s difficult to balance both trying to fit in and trying to stand out, especially with the end result being that she often comes off as shallow and selfish.

Her priorities seemed to focus more on gossiping with Parvati and keeping up with the latest from Witch Weekly. Lavender herself comes off as thoughtless and often stuck in her fantasies, it didn’t mean that she was cruel. In the rare instance that she had come across someone who was upset, her bubbly demeanor may be unwelcome but her intentions were always good, insisting that the sun will come out tomorrow, referencing a muggle movie that only those raised around muggle culture would understand.

It was during the fifth year that she realized that she had to pick sides – though she was rather unaware at the time that there were larger issues at hand than whether or not the Boy Who Lived was actually the Boy Who Lied. But Seamus Finnigan didn’t believe him at first, and Lavender only thought of Harry Potter as the talk of the town, and that somehow he was much more of an attention seeker than Lavender was. Her participation in Dumbledore’s Army was more out of curiosity than belief, and it was only until Professor Trelawney had been sacked that she had become more dedicated to the cause.

Her first serious relationship with Ron Weasley was immature at best; for all of the moments Ron didn’t seem as interested in her as she was with him, she felt as if she had to make up for them. In a way she lived in her delusion of grandeur as someone who could have it all – the perfect boyfriend, the thriving social life, and an eventual career as a journalist as she had decided in her fifth year. She still holds a grudge against Hermione Granger for their fallout; after all, Lavender sure as hell wasn’t going to be anyone’s second choice.

School Year So Far

Dumbledore’s death never changed Lavender’s mind that Hogwarts was the safest place to be, until half of her classmates had gone missing. Lavender was occasionally chosen to participate in demonstrations done by the Carrows – but she was always on the receiving end of some curse, where she was reminded that her only saving grace was the fact that her grandparents were considered pure and that it was no fault of hers that she was tainted by a squib.

That didn’t stop them from making an example of her though for those who willingly break their rules, especially because of the one and only time she had stood up for her mother. It wasn’t until Neville Longbottom had come back visibly shaken from his detentions because of her transgressions that she was aware that it was just better to keep her mouth closed and pretend that she didn’t have a wand.

Despite her once thriving social life, Lavender sought no comfort from Neville, Parvati, or Seamus during the few times she was selected to be a practice dummy. Being poised and graceful was the only thing she could hold on to that let her keep some of her dignity. She felt herself becoming more and more detached from her friends, keeping her fear to herself; what was there to say anyway? She walked the halls with her stomach clenched tight for any sign of the Carrows – or students for that matter, who pursued her as a target for extra credit. Lavender was an experiment in which the Carrows only wanted one answer: her blood was tainted somehow because of her squib mother even if her magic had just skipped a generation, and that Lavender was weaker and lesser because of it.

It didn’t help either that Parvati was a true pureblood – a difference now that had never bothered her until now – because Parvati was never punished as harshly as Lavender was for greater transgressions against the Carrows. Lavender knew that Parvati’s blood status (as well as her own) was something they couldn’t choose, but she couldn’t help but feel bitter and jealous as their evenings in the Gryffindor Common Room were now silent. Dumbledore’s Army met, of course, but Lavender preferred not to be present; it was difficult to save someone else when you had trouble saving yourself to begin with.

If Hermione Granger loved the library, then Lavender Brown loved the Divination Tower in equal amount. Most of her free time was spent there and it essentially became her new hiding place as she tried to read tea leaves, tarot cards, and crystal balls for some shred of hope, only to find none. Every prediction always seemed to turn sour, and for the first time she felt frustrated with the art; it was her only way to feel useful and the only way to feel like she still belonged in this world.

Her winter vacation was spent at the school; she didn’t want her parents to find out what had been happening, with her skin marred by curses and her body always pained, and it wouldn’t be hard for the Ministry to follow her home. All she could do now was pray that her parents wouldn’t be found, with her hope in the fact that the muggle world was much harder to navigate than the wizarding one. Besides, she had so much more work to do; after all, ladies don’t start fights, but they can finish them.

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Open Themes: Experimentation - Reconnaissance

Inception

While Lavender still considered herself a member of the DA, it was difficult to become involved since she was a daughter of a squib. Fear held her back, and she thought it foolish of her pureblood friends to purposely endanger themselves to do what was right.

But Lavender had to do something. Her winter break was spent avoiding the Carrows, of course, but reading into a new kind of Divination that she hadn’t yet explored. Perhaps Professor Trelawney had been out of her tower just the right moment, leaving Lavender to peruse her shelves.

The way her wand felt when she cast the spell the first time felt right, at least moreso than it ever had since she held her wand over the last seven years – as if she were destined to do this. She was very easily convinced that she had found her way to help the DA, but little was she aware of the consequences that might come of it.

Specification:

Lavender was working on her ability of astral projection. It was seeing, but during the present, especially considering that Lavender found that she could now walk around the halls unseen for a few minutes. She found herself more exhausted coming back to herself, and often unable to focus.

But she was obsessed with this new ability because it allowed her to escape and tried to practice every chance she got, despite the fact that it drained her significantly. It would affect her schoolwork coming into the second term, but she would consider it worthwhile if she could train herself to project for longer and longer periods of time.

Utilization:

Her friends were busy leading the fight against the Carrows, but she had tried to keep herself off the battlefield because she was daughter of a squib. At least now she had something useful for the DA – she could be a spy. The Carrows were unpredictable, but it wasn’t a secret that they were following orders from someone else – if only the DA could be one step ahead of them. She has yet to tell her friends about this ability, but doing so would be difficult: she’s not very good at it yet and many of her friends had long disbelieved in Divination.

Even if the DA didn’t want her, then who cares? Projecting was the only way Lavender felt like herself again, anyway. It made her special, even if it did have its negative effects: she was tired, depressed, forgetful, careless… but it wasn’t like she had been seen as any different before.

What Lavender would fail to realize, is that the more she projected, the less aware she would be of her surroundings coming back. The longer she thought she was escaping death at the hands of the Carrows, the more she pushed herself into closer. And little was she aware of what would happen if something gone wrong – which it could, she was only eighteen.

How difficult would would it be to keep a projection and a body together, especially after forcing herself to undergo the process so often? She doesn’t understand that there’s control she has to exercise now in her waking hours. And what would she do if somehow her body was found and taken away before she could go back? Eventually she’d have to answer the question of whether this ability would be worth dying for, essentially rendering her as useless as she thought she was from the beginning.

OOC Questions

Writing Sample

​Even when she kept quiet, she was punished. Professor Carrow dug her claws deep into Lavender’s arm, pulling her out of her desk. Lavender clung to the desk, her free hand sliding across the flat table stop before reaching for a leg. Her balance was thrown completely and she felt her foot loss its traction across the marble floor as Professor Carrow continued dragging her to the front of the class.

“Useless girl!” The woman shrieked. It wasn’t the worst that Lavender had been called but the Carrows were predictable enough that anytime Alecto opened her mouth to screech, Lavender knew to fight her own instincts to cry out. Any whimper of noise only earned her more infractions as she was forced to demonstrate what the punishment was for dirtied blood. Her hand rubbed her eyes on her sleeve and she glanced back at Parvati.

She shook her head, but not in disdain. The panic in her eyes as she tried to tear her arm away from the Carrow’s grip communicated something else entirely: what have I done to deserve this? There was a swelling in her chest that she could only liken to hope — perhaps Parvati would stand and save her now —

Alecto had grown tired of dragging her across the classroom, letting her tumble to the floor. Lavender gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, feeling the tears dampen her cheeks as they overflowed. She felt like she was drowning; breathing quietly was hardly an option now as she pulled herself up on shaky hands, dragging herself to her feet using Seamus’s desk.

She inhaled as deep as she could, staring blankly back at the woman who had expected her to stay on the ground. After all, everyone else had, haven’t they? Lavender intended to be the last mudblood standing. Her knees almost buckled underneath her when the woman raised her wand, a reminder of the last time that Lavender hoped would be the last time.

Finally, she lifted her head in time for Alecto to wield her wand like a sabre; Lavender was knocked off her feet, tossed to the back of the classroom like a discarded toy. Her body collided with the wooden door and her limbs folded underneath her in painful angles as she slid to the ground. She coughed, the metallic taste layering over her tongue as she gasped. Her fingers pried the buttons of her collar open, unsure if the shivering was out of fear or out of weakness, as she gingerly pressed at the new wounds above her breast. The blood spread easily onto her clothes. Her robes hid most of the bleeding but she still cursed herself for leaving evidence of her suffering.

Lucky for Lavender, the floor had already been stained scarlet.

Exploration

Her relationship with her fellow Gryffindors and other classmates. As a minor character, Lavender doesn’t get much spotlight. I want her to think she’s the “voice of reason” especially since she might be the one trying to talk her classmates out of hurting themselves for supposedly no reason. It would be easy for her to be seen as selfish, especially since everyone else is rising up to defend those who are defenseless. She’s currently on the sidelines and she wants to help, but she wants to stay out of the game – I’d like to see her convinced to be in the thick of the fighting. Lavender also holds grudges against Hermione and Ron; would that affect which leader she follows, especially if they come back? We also don’t see much of the Gryffindors talking with other houses, and we see these interhouse relationships as more of a rivalry; would the crisis with the Carrows actually promote unity amongst the houses?

Her mental and physical health. The Carrows have done a number on her since she’s considered a target, but she never really talks about it with her friends – instead resorting to hide in the Divination Tower. Perhaps she’ll get the opportunity to open up, especially if she has someone who suffers equally if not more than she has. In addition, she’s probably going to get some flack for hiding when she should be fighting; I’m curious to see what kind of arguments happen when she’s thinks she’s given everything and others think she hasn’t given enough.

Her use of Dark Magic. Perhaps this astral projection would be considered Dark Magic, especially since the aftermath of it is so negative and the intention might be considered sinister. Once realizing this, she’d probably continue to do it, regardless; she’s a Gryffindor, after all, and it doesn’t help that she’s the kind to think little of the consequences. But would there be someone to talk her out of it? How would it change people’s perception of her, and would the DA be okay with her doing this? (Does the end justify the means?) Are the effects of projecting going to cause permanent damage?

Her empathy for others. The moments where Lavender has to comfort someone else have been rare, and it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that she had been focused on herself for a long time. Especially with the pain she’s dealing with now, perhaps she can better understand how others suffer similarly, and offer more help to them in the form of emotional support. That being said, would this empathy be limited to those on her side? There are characters who also struggle on the Dark Side or on no side at all, and it’d be interesting to see if Lavender would allow herself to feel sorry for them too.

[frostbiteandblacksnow]

Knowing your partner well can potentially make writing together a lot easier!

Know your partner blahblahblah.

Complete with way more information than you need.

1. Basics. ]]

NAME Yuki, Winter, whatevz. Many forums, many names. If you know my real name, please don’t use it publicly. PRONOUNS he in person, he/she/they otherwise. I don’t mind, whatever you’re comfortable with. SEXUALITY ????? People are nice. Bi, probably. ZODIAC SIGN Aries. Grab life by the horns. TAKEN OR SINGLE I am the one who takes. Jk, taken.

Three Facts:

I am huge on milk-drinking. So much milk. All the time. If they served milk in bars, I would go.

I have no self-esteem. That makes my life goals (voice acting!) functionally irrelevant, so I’ve settled for trying to make the people around me happy. what must be done I’m also good at pulling people out of the way of cars! College is a crazy time.

I tend to learn a lot of things on a shallow level, just functionally enough to make a skill work for me, but also love shortcuts. It’s a side-effect of setting goals that I can’t reach, then failing to reach them. Along the way, I pick up some knowledge. So, I know several different programming languages, After Effects, Sony Vegas, Photoshop/Illustrator, Audition, Audacity, Blender, most of the Office Suite, etc. Because I don’t usually need the fancier gadgets, I prefer older software, because it’s cheaper. I still use Adobe Suite CS1/2 for most things. That was a long one.

2. Experience. ]]

Length: Text-based roleplay, should be over 9 years now. Roleplay in general ( hark, D&D 3.5 ) is more in the range of 10-11 years.  Platforms: Skype, Tumblr, Forums, Omegle and other chat-based systems Best Experience: There’s a lady named Deen who basically taught me everything I know. Not really, but she’s functionally the person who taught me how not to be a little prick. That said, every forum I’ve ever been on has generally decided I’m toxic or shut down or both - in fact, there’s one that to this day blames me for closing down as a loose cannon renegade hell bent on the site’s destruction. So, eh. Not really any ‘best experiences’, though many memorable ones! Some, of course, with people here! My Kalista thread was super memorable. 

3. Muse Preference. ]]

Female or Male: No preference. I tend to prefer female characters in tabletops, because they’re often grossly underrepresented caricatures. My main muse here is technically either at any given point and, although I know it makes some people squeamish, my first forum muse’s hallmark thing was that he was a trap. I was 12 and thought it was amusing. By 17, that was an actual serious plot point deconstruction with far-reaching implications and pages of background. Fun.

Multi or Single: This is a thing that is purely Tumblr based tbh. I didn’t know Multi was a thing until I started here a year ago. I don’t really have a preference, but None is kind of special-case-syndrome so. multiship but singleverse what a bitch. Having said that, I’ve found that focusing on romantic developments can often be... disappointing. Everyone’s got their thing, and I tend to find that partners who are of high quality tend to be slow to reply and busy with life and that can slow paces down to a literal crawl. Less so on Tumblr but idk. 

I’ve been doing a side rp for... 2 years. With characters that are meant to get together. I changed my character up and changed their gender because my partner and I were like ‘ship.’ Great. It’s been 2 years and we’re still on week... 10, maybe. Lots of time skip involved. They still hate each other. Crap.

4. Writing Preferences. ]]

Fluff, Angst, Smut: Any. Goodness though, smut can make me uncomfy with the wrong person. You ever feel disrespected as a writer by the way someone writes with you/regards your character? Yuck. I tend to keep my smut in an anonymous bin in the corner. ANGST IS WHERE IT’S AT THOUGH. Holla. Fluff is equivalently nice, but I’m built for conflict. Plots or Memes: Another ‘Tumblr only’ thing for me. The fuck is a meme. Despite that, I don’t do plots either. I just make a solid start or a theme and let things go where they’ll go, so no preference. I think memes are great though! A great starting point, especially if you’re not huge into plots like me. I tend to get disappointed when a plot doesn’t reach completion. Long or Short: Well, I once had a special technique literally named ‘Wall of Text’ and get recognized on different forums for post length, so you tell me. I envy people who can be concise. Try as I might, introspective, descriptive, whatever style I take, it’s always a lot of text. Woops. That said, writing too much still wears me out. I write as much as I want until I feel like I’ve done my part, then stop. Best Time to Write: 4 am. Lunch breaks. Whenever I have time, lately. Angst is best done at night. Fluff is best done in evenings. Smut is best done when I don’t have to explain to anyone why my face looks like a tomato. Am I like my muse: It’s a self-insert from 9 years ago. So yeah, a little. Less sociopathic. That’s my dirty little secret though. 

Tagged By: I steal things for fun. Tagging: @sequesteredxsolace and @bxhl and @of-deception-and-perfection and whoever else I’m trying to think of who has/hasn’t done this though. 

[spamzineglasgow]

ON: the occasional necessity of utter unhappiness, by Meredith Grace Thompson

In this latest instalment of her ON____ series (you can also read parts 1 and 2), Meredith Grace Thompson braces the subject of happiness and its undoing, reflecting on a gendered experience of sadness in public transport and bartending. What follows is a bittersweet and complicated noticing of care, attention and gesture, among the everyday rhythms of misogyny, labour and conversation. 

> I move to the very edge of my bus seat because the woman who just sat next to me, sideways in her seat so that her back is to me, is laughing with her boyfriend—or rather, laughing with a man across the aisle, who I am assuming he is her boyfriend but I actually have no idea—and keeps leaning back to laugh, touching my shoulder. I don’t like being touched. They both have the sickly sweet wreak of vodka on their breath and their illegible laughter is so loud and the light of the bus is so bright and I feel nauseatingly claustrophobic. It’s dark outside, and I can see the reflection of my strained face in the mirror of window. I look so unhappy.

> It’s true. Hips don’t lie. I am unhappy. Wildly. I am unhappy in my bones; to the marrow. It is seeping through my pores and collecting under my fingernails like dust that slowly turns black in the daylight; the kind of unhappiness which is a panicked breathing in shallow gasps that comes out of nowhere but feels as though it has always been there and you can’t remember a time when  it wasn’t pressing against each individual vertebrae down your entire back and radiating through to your uterus—or some other such organ. I am having trouble keeping it to myself. I have to actively stop myself from turning and grabbing the vodka soaked laughing woman and her laughing friend and shaking them by the shoulders, screaming my unhappiness into their smiling faces. How can they not see that I am in agony?  

> I am broken inside.

> Cold and dead like a fish being slapped against a rock, its head held down, neck cut, innards pulled through its gills. What happens to the fish next?

> I will sit on this bus and I will rot away and no one will ever care. Soon, my bones will be the only thing left of me—long after whatever animates me is gone, my skeleton will sit, slumped in this bus seat, and the bones that I have never seen will be all that is left of me; the only thing to tell anyone anything about me. And one day, an archeologist will find this (clearly fundamentally important bus) and my bones in it, and they will tell this archeologist exactly how I died—right here, of utter unhappiness, on this bus, at night, in the rain, with laughing people all around me. And I will end up in a drawer at the Smithsonian and Dr. Temperance Brennan will pity me a great deal, because all bones end up on the tv show Bones, right?

> But then—

> I begin to move. ‘Excuse me.’ I say, very quietly, and the laughing woman shunts slightly to the side, laughing even more as she almost falls onto the man she is speaking to. I wedge my way awkwardly past her. I ring the bell as I walk down the aisle, aware of every joint and crevice of my body as it moves in strange lack of cohesion. Didn’t I learn to walk as a very young child? Where is all that education now? I climb down from the bus. I thanked the driver. I think. I can’t actually remember.

> I am a 45-minute walk from home.

> I stand in the rain and look around me. I am deciding if I should walk or if I should catch the next bus.  I don’t think I can sit on another bus.

>

>

> I start to walk.

> For years, I worked as a bartender—an odd job as I have a distinctive distain for drunk people—but I enjoyed the observation. People really are fascinating. It was always like being at a party, but you were slightly removed and had something to do like cutting limes and didn’t actually have to speak until spoken to. I was never the kind of bartender to initiate conversation, but I was a good listener. I liked having the same people on the same days of each week. It was comforting to know who would come each day, and what they would order, even if I also hated them (just a little bit). There were regulars I didn’t hate. Those whose lives I knew something about and who I had grown to, if not like, then genuinely care for. And I was happy. I think. I can’t actually remember.

> I hated being a bartender. But it was money and it left my days free to write, and that was what I cared about. I kept a notepad in my pocket, and I could scribble poems as I thought of them, to be decoded later. The unhappiness served a purpose and so it wasn’t really real.

> I think true unhappiness is in stagnation.

>

>

> I laugh a lot when I am horrified, or nullified, or just don’t know what else to do. I laugh in exceedingly inappropriate places and at exceedingly inappropriate times. It has always been a fault of mine. The etiquette of what to do with my face whilst I am listening to someone else’s misfortune has always escaped me. There are rare exceptions, but often times my internal monologue goes something along the lines of: this is a very sad story, my god, it’s so fucked up. What face do I make to convey that I understand how fucked up this is? I want [whomever I am listening to] to know that I really am concerned by this story and that I feel for them, but I can feel my face making these weirdly forced grimace type things or—even worse—not moving at all, and they must see that and they must think I am a monster. Where do I normally put my tongue? Is it flattened between my molars? If I don’t put it there, then I’m grinding my teeth into one another and my jaw will ache later, and I will look as though I’m glowering, and maybe I have to sneeze, but I don’t remember anymore.

> I read a book once, in the first person from a woman who self-identified as a sociopath and worried for a full week that I was a sociopath too. She was a Mormon because she said it gave her a sense of morality she did not feel internally. She described fucking with the people around her for the pure pleasure of their misery, and the more I thought about it, the less I worried I was a sociopath. But still: what to do with my face to convey empathy that I do feel, I just worry I don’t perform well enough?

> I am 20 minutes from home.

>

>

> There is a strange level of hatred for a female bartender which I have never understood but have most definitely felt. Misogyny is so stupid.

> Kate Manne talks about misogyny as an ecosystem that women must navigate not a feeling that men have. She describes it as the policing arm of patriarchy; those punishment and enforcement systems put into place to correct behavior when a woman or non-cis-male steps out of line of patriarchal norms. That makes sense, I guess.  

> I think [hope] the necessity of gender performance is dying slowly.

> I am happy about it.

> I am 5 minutes from home.

> There’s a Japanese idea, kintsugi, that something broken is even more beautiful for being put back together. I think that’s how I feel about happiness.

> As I climb the stairs to my apartment, out of breath by the fourth flight and wishing for some sort of pully system to be installed, primarily for groceries (an elevator is unrealistic), I find myself smiling. My face feels wind burnt and crisp. My legs feel wiry and elastic. The door clicks, pleasingly behind me.

> I light a candle, make myself tea, and go to bed.

~

Manne, Kate. Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny. New York, Oxford University Press, 2018.

~

Text and Image: Meredith Grace Thompson

Published: 21/4/20

[typewritertoni-blog]

The Church Teaching Vs LGBT+ of the Philippines

Toni Torres here with my first post! I've decided to express an opinion I have on this issue up there. Yep. The title. Don't get me wrong, I'm a Catholic. I've been raised in a Catholic school and studied Christian Living for eleven years. Something in me just seems to analyze and see all of these arguments of Catholics who reason their hate against the LGBT+ community. I strongly oppose them. I am a victim of their discrimination, I'm a bisexual teenager after all. I grew up hearing that I was the scum of the earth. Just because I prefer both genders. Amazing.

Do their arguments really hold up? Can hate be justified? Morally and logically? No. And I will rant on why. This will be the fruits of all my bible reading, researching and writing. Let's get into it!

Many would argue that it is stated in the Old Testament that no man should lie with another man and a woman with another woman. I need to stress the words: OLD TESTAMENT. Loud and clear? Good. These rules are from a time before Chirst, a time before the Messiah. A time so ancient that we don't really keep much of the rules that they have mentioned.

You know those rules right? How to sell slaves, how we aren't allowed to eat certain types of meats (we don't have those restrictions in the present, by the way), men could have multiple wives and many more ancient rules that were regarded as Gospel at the time. Do we follow these outdated rules in the present? NO. The rule of polygamy in the Old Testament is against the teachings of the Church about monogamy. So why should we treat this specific rule about homosexuality like it is an unbreakable rule that should be followed at all times? If we shall do so, shouldn't we adopt these old rules as well?

We live in the era after Christ saved us. His two most important Commandments, love God with all you heart and Love thy neighbor as you love they self, are the basis. The Old Testament rules can only be applied to the times of Old and are not feasible or necessary to follow. Our focus should be on the new.

Some people also argue that homosexuality falls under one of the Ten Commanents: "You Shall Not Commit Adultery". The definition of adultery is to have sex with someone you are not married to. Homo people have sex because of one of two reasons: 1) They are in a commited monogamous relationship that resembles marriage but cannot be marriage because it ain't legal in their country. 2.) Lust has taken over and they have therefore sinned. You know, like all other straight people who have sex left and right. But do we see people up in arms about it now? No. Double standards, I tell you. They make homosexual sex such a big deal and turn a blind eye to straight people who are having extra-marital and pre-marital sex.

Let's put it into the context of the era the Old Testament was in. Homosexual intercourse is a ritual by pagans to their gods and was basically RAPE. Some have homosexual intercourse because of LUST and not LOVE. These are the types of homosexual relationships that God doesn't want. God is the ultimate symbol of love. Why would he be in the way of a love that is pure and true? If that pure and true love was between two people of the same gender, what difference does it really make?

I know what some of you might be saying. "Homosexuality is unnatural!" BOY YOU SURE 'BOUT THAT? If you try to do a little bit more research, same-sex relationships in animals do happen. They're natural. If you're worried of declining number of babies then don't you fucking worry. Many animals accept these same-sex relations, have they gone extinct? Hell no!

I could hear another keyboard warrior typing off with another objection. "Jesus told us to be fertile and multiply! Being gay means not doing what He says." Slow down there, bucko. Do you guys take everything literally? My CL teacher taught me to not take everything literally, that it takes patience to interpret meaning. Like how the parables aren't literal and have meaning, so too does the Bible. Although yes, having children and teaching them about Christianity is one way of fulfilling this responsibility, it is not the only way. Being fertile could also mean being fertile with faith and strong love for God then converting the people around you, thus multiplying believers of the Good News.

"Marriage is between a man and a woman! God made man and woman for eachother!" For religion, marriage is all about reproduction. But isn't marriage supposed to be a bond between two people who love eachother so much that they would like their love to be sealed by God's grace? Just like I said in the previous argument, making babies is not everything. Reproduction is important but not everyone needs to do it. Having kids isn't a responsibility, it's a choice. If you're going to punish gay people for not taking part of the reproduction of our species then you should punish those who practice celibacy like our nuns and preists. Alsooo those who are barren. Was it their fault they were barren? No and the Church leaves them alone. Is it the fault of homos to be the way they are even if they were like this ever since?

Hell, the world is overpopulated. If you're worried that straight people won't exist in the future if we let homosexuality and queerness run wild, don'tcha worry. EVERYONE HAS PREFERENCES. Like how you might like chocolate than vanilla, even if many of your peers like vanilla more. YOU STILL CHOOSE CHOCOLATE RIGHT? Your preferences are uniquely your own and no one can influence you to be like someone unless you let them. So you won't be gay if you truly aren't gay. Like how you won't like vanilla if you truly don't.

If you really want no gay weddings in your churches then at least don't meddle in state affairs! The rights of others won't undermine your religious rights. States are supposed to represent all the people and not everyone is Catholic. Seperation of Church and State. Not all Filipinos are Catholics. Even if a Filipino were Catholic, they should be allowed freedom of thought. Let them think what they want to to think, outside of the religious belief system. Then again, organized belief systems don't let people have their own interpretations. We must follow the leader's interpretation. That truly destroys free and critical thinking.

Man and woman are made for eachother…for reproduction. It's simple biology and I won't argue with that. We're talking about relationships. Not all people believe that the opposite sex is for them, some people believe that they'd like the same-sex as a partner. Again, all about preference.

I could go on and on about the different verses and reasonings that Catholics (maybe priests) make about being anti-homo. If you want me to answer any of the ones I haven't discussed then feel free to send a question to submissions. My beliefs probably don't stem from Catholic dogma but I simply base what I believe in the Word of God. It was made by Him as he used the Bible writers as his vessels.

As a good Catholic, I should believe in what the Church says but I'm tired of playing dumb. I'm tired of hating myself just because some people with fancy titles say so. These doctrines, the ones that reject homosexual and queer people, are not of God. He is merciful. He is forgiving. He is loving. He loves us. He won't hate me for being bi, He loves me because I'm His child.

"But Toni…how can you say that those doctrines are not of God, you aren't a prophet!" I'm no prophet nor am I pretending to be. The God I know and have been raised to believe in is not an all-powerful entity that hates people because of shallow reasons. My CL teachers and the Church themselves have taught me that God is Love.

The Church may be founded by the Chosen 12 of Jesus but the Church is far from perfect. We are taught that. If only they could accept that maybe the things that they teach could seriously hurt and isolate the queer people who are God's children as well. If only they could keep on improving themselves instead of insisting that backwards thinking would work the best. Jesus himself was a radical, who changed beliefs and taught differently but without losing the essence and all the while creating something new, better and updated.

Is being queer a weakness? (These godly people insist that being homosexual is human weakness, after all.) To answer that, you better answer this: Is loving someone a weakness? No. If anything, loving with a pure heart is the strongest and bravest thing you could ever do.

Even if it is human weakness in doctrine, straight people have human weaknesses as well. You call it, sin. Simply being human. Again from my points from previous paragraphs, there are double standards.

You don't see straights getting beaten up because they love someone. They don't get to be called dirty and worse than animals. We are all equal. We are all sinners. If I sin for being who I am then you are no different than me because you sin too. All sins are equal, so are the good things we commit in the eyes of God. So don't go riding your high horse because I might shoot it down with a shotgun of logic. People like you are the reason why many members of the LGBT+ Catholics face discrimination and pain. Jesus told us to comfort the afflicted, not drag them to the ground.

As our Lord said, "Let him who has never sinned, cast the first stone."

Okay. Now let's discuss how the CBCP is demanding that LGBT+ people should not have protection and not have a right to protection by the Anti-Discrimination Bill. The news is kinda late but their point still stands until now. The SOGIE Bill that aims to protect our Filipino LGBT+ brothers and sisters are being restricted by this. They insist that we are disordered when humans have always been disordered because of our tendency to sibln. Looking down on us like we're monsters or deviants serving the devil. In reality, we simply want to love and be loved. Just like everyone else.

Here you are, CBCP, calling yourselves Children of God when you yourselves act like the devil who tries to make the lives of other people miserable, the LGBT+ community in particular. Are you so blinded by dogma that you stop remembering what our mission as Christians are? We are tasked to show and express God's love to all peoples. Is denying the LGBT+ from protection your way of showing God's love? If so, that is a HORRIBLE way of doing it. You're just doing the opposite at this point.

I'm sure many Catholics are accepting and could see reason. Many probably disagree to the CBCPs actions. What I'm striving to fight against is how the teachings that are supposed to guide us to become good Catholics are teaching us to see LGBT+ people as scum of the Earth. No true child of God would do that, right?

We don't like things we don't understand. Maybe the Church has not tried to show compassion or try to understand the LGBT+ community. We are supposed to reach out to the oppressed but no. We are the oppressors.

So... Who's the scum of the earth now?

We don't have to let things be this way. God always gives us second chances. And I think it is high time that we change for the better, for the sake of our LGBT+ brothers and sisters who are faithful to God and to His mission of bringing His love to all people.

Remember. Bring His love to ALL people.

That includes us.

Sincerely,

Toni Torres

(For questions or rebuttals, just send one to my submission box or comment them. I'd be happy to see what your thoughts on the topic are. Did I miss something? Was I innacurate? Do enlighten me. This rant was based on knowledge I have at the present. In discussing these matters with civility but with conviction, we will learn more from eachother. Who doesn't want knowledge? Anyways, thank you for reading! Sorry for the rant, this topic was too close to home and I just wanted to say my piece. I dedicate this post to all LGBT+ people out there who struggle to come to terms with their identity and faith. I've been through that and I know it is tough. Just keep on believing.)

[aaronmascoll]

Chapter 27 - Leila

They had been flying for over ten hours without any breaks. Before they left, Morgan changed into a white button down shirt, black pencil skirt, and black stilettos. Leila had fallen asleep around the same time that Morgan did. When she woke up hours later, they were still flying. "How far is the school?" Leila asked Morgan as she woke up.

"Far away from the Citadel's reach."

"And why is it so important that we go there?"

Morgan sat up in a very dignified position. "Well if you must know, I have a sex pact with Mr. Apex."

"A what?"

"I'm going there to have sex with him. It was one of the conditions for his surrender. That and his soul is bound to his school so he can't leave. After the war was over, Gwendolyn and I would-"

"Who's is Gwendolyn?"

"She's the one who killed Mr. Apex's father during the debate. It was her idea to bind him to the school. But he only agreed to it on the condition that she help him relieve his sexually tension once a year. Since it was only once a year, she agreed. But she didn't know that because of his magic, any kind of tension he experiences, if not released, builds up till it just explodes."

"So what does that mean?"

"The longest I've seen it take to satisfy him was around fifteen days."

"Oh screw that!" Leila said suddenly our of character. "What kind of magic let's someone have sex for two weeks?"

"Beast magic," Morgan said matter-of-factly. "He's not entirely human anymore. Even more so since he absorbed the alpha king direwolf."

"Alpa what?"

"Its a type of magical creature. There's the generic species, then there's the alpha, after it's the king, or queen depending on its gender, and last is the alpha king. It's the father of the entire species. They're asexual, and can switch genders whenever they want. They're basically gods to their entire species. They always have a mix of black and gold skin, fur, or feathers."

"So let me get this straight. Your going to an all boys school to have sex with its principal, who absorbed a God, and this could apparently take weeks?"

"Yes ma'am," Morgan said with a smile.

"I'm just gonna spend the next week living with Spencer. I'll check on you then."

"So, your telling me you dont want to meet him? They have a well diverse library. It has books on necromancy, conjuring, beast magic, and just about every other type of magic I'm not allowed to teach at my school. Plus, I might need you to help me convince him to combine schools."

"Combine schools? For what?"

"I'm trying to get out from under the Citadel's thumb. And if it ever comes to it, having him on our side would really be preferable. When I finally tell the other teachers about my plan, I'm sure I'll lose most of their support."

"You had me at necromancy."

It was another hour before they reached the school. On the outside, the School for boys looked like a military camp. A large barbwire fence surrounded the entire school. Bland buildings were separated by concrete walkways and grass squares. Leila preferred the girl's school which looked like a lustrous castle.

Morgan landed them in a small quad next to a fountain. There were boys gathered around it. Some were reading books, others were playing a game that involved kicking a ball made of fire at eachother, and two seemed to be napping. Their uniforms were plain black suits with a red tie.

The students gathered around the carriage as Morgan opened the doors. When Morgan stepped out they all began to whoop and holler. Morgan shrunk her carriage and handed it to Leila to hold on to. It was only then that Leila realized she was still wearing the same dress clothes from when she was back on earth. Leila followed Morgan's lead as she ignored everything the students said to her. They were boys, all of them were hitting on her. She only responded to two boys who were holding hands. They told her she looked amazing and she responded with a simple thank you. They were the ones Leila saw napping by the fountain.

Leila didn't blame the boys. It was true, Morgan was gorgeous. The way she walked in her black stilettos was captivating. The tight black pencil skirt made her radiate an amorous aura. And her push up bra definitely got her breast the attention they deserved.

All the way through the school, Morgan was the center of attention. Even inside the main building, which looked too much like a regular high school building, the boys all wanted her. The teachers had to physically stop them from leaving their classrooms. "Did Gwendolyn go through this every time she came here?" Leila asked as they stepped over the school's crest and past a trophy case.

"It was a hundred times worse. She would come wearing a bikini or sometimes nothing at all. Gwendolyn loved attention, but she loved coming here even more. She hated Wolfram, but loved how good be was in bed. They basically were having hate sex."

"You make it sound like you actually watched them."

"Would it be so wrong if I did?"

At the end of the hallway, they came across a pair of large redwood doors. The doors had a decorative wolf carved into them. As Leila looked at the door she could feel an essence escaping from behind it. The essence was pure, hot, animalistic lust. It made her heart race, her breathing shallow, and it blurred her vision. She was suddenly overwhelmed and filled with the need to ravish someone. She wanted to find someone, anyone, and defile them. She wanted to feel their skin bleed as she clawed at it with her fingers while having orgasm after orgasm. At one point, she couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed the doorknobs on the large redwood doors, and was about to screw the living brains out of whoever was behind them. But, a hand suddenly touched her shoulder and she immediately had a hard time standing up straight. Her knees buckled and her body shook from the most intense orgasm she'd ever had.

Leila stood up straight, mesmerized by what she had just felt. "That's my fault," Morgan said. "I was actually supposed to come see him as few months ago. He's bound to the school and literally everyone, besides his students, is afraid of him, so he has no actual way to relieve himself of all the pent up tension. Which is why he made it one of the terms of his surrender. The spell I put on you should make you immune that aura of his."

"Couldn't you could've cast that earlier!"

Morgan smiled. "Yeah, but the look on your face was priceless. Besides, the doors are spelled so only he and I can open them."

Morgan grabbed one of the doorknobs and opened the door. Hot air exploded from behind the door like a backdraft. Leila was immune to it, but she could feel it. The heated air from Mr. Apex's aura made her sweat. But that's not all she felt. When she sat in the seat of power back in Spencer's dimension, she learned many things. One was how to control her own anomali energy, the other was how sense the energy in her environment. Before she even stepped foot into his office, she could feel it. It was like a rabid animal was locked in a cage. It's rage and anger knew no bounds. It made her skin crawl and terrified her, but she entered the room anyway.

Mr. Apex was the first thing Leila saw when she entered the room. He had long spiky gold hair and was outrageously tall, about seven and a half feet. He was also grotesquely muscular. The suit he was wearing seemed on the verge tearing if he made even the slightest movement. He had his hands placed behind his back like a distinguished person would. He was staring out a window into a large redwood forest. Leila could tell that the window wasn't actually there from the energy coming from it.

Morgan closed the door behind her and walked into the room like she's done a thousand times. She moved the desk he standing in front of towards the center of the room. She then sat Leila down in a chair in a corner of the room. Morgan walked behind the desk and moved a much larger chair behind. "Sit!" She commanded.

Mr. Apex turned around and collapsed in the chair. He was out breath and Leila wonder how long he had been standing there. Mr. Apex was undoubtedly one of the most attractive men Leila had ever seen. Golden whiskers lined his face. His facial features made him out to be about thirty years old but Leila knew he was older than that.

Morgan unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. She then straddled him and placed both hands on his large broad shoulders. "Your late!" He said with a growl as he tore off her shirt and thrust her breast into his mouth.