#I don’t know but I can tell you I’ve not been cured from my hatred of phone calls

[greaseonmymouth]

I got an email from my internet provider saying my 12 month binding period was up and I would now be charged £13 more per month but if I wished to continue with the discount for another 12 months I could call this number and cite this code and all would be well

normally I would just suck up the extra cost instead of participating in the ordeal of a Phone Call With A Stranger, Possibly With An Accent I Struggle To Parse but in this economy that was simply not an option so. fellas I actually called the number

spoke to a customer service guy with such a strong Indian accent I’m 16273% sure he was actually based in India and not the UK for all of 5 minutes

and all that happened is……he put me on another 12 month discount plan but with a better discount than my previous one

#I am mildly dazed #didn’t have to give him the code from the email #he was just like ‘let me check which discounts are available for your account’ and then came back with a better one #what have we learned from this exercise #I don’t know but I can tell you I’ve not been cured from my hatred of phone calls

[soulofapatrick]

Revealing Secrets - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Y/N tells Joel and Ellie the truth about the cure, expecting a hideous fall out but Joel’s response is unexpected

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Smut (p in v): fingering; lots of fluff; angst with Ellie

NOTES: Part 6 of Let Me Save You

Y/N’S POV

The food court area Maria’s made out of an old barn is warm and full of life, conversations floating around and the sound of laughter making the building brighter. There’s fairy lights strung up in the rafters, acting as lights and they just add to the homey feeling the building gives. Ellie’s sat between me and Joel, eating like she’s never eaten a proper meal which actually… thinking about it she probably hasn’t. 

“There’s more if you need it.” Maria speaks up, amusement dancing across her face as she watches Ellie scarf down the food. Joel hasn’t noticed the closeness between her and Tommy, the way they’re sitting angled towards each other and I bet their feet are probably touching under the table. 

“Thank you ma’am.” Joel’s tone is polite and nothing like what I’ve heard from him before. He may have used it once or twice when they first visited Bill and Frank but he’s usually a lot more roughly spoken, a scowl usually on his features, “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.” 

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal. This is fucking amazing,” Ellie speaks around a mouthful of potatoes, sending Tommy and Maria a smile. It has me wanting to face palm as she’s so blunt and brash with her words, it’s very Joel-like. Joel’s cheeks heat up with embarrassment, glancing at Ellie with his eyebrows quirked before turning back to Maria and apologising for her. Ellie’s not listening to them, her eyes on a girl watching us from behind one of the wooden pillars. All I can do is watch the way Ellie’s clover eyes narrow, she swallows and is snapping, “What?” The girl’s face falls slack in shock and she’s scurrying out of the barn, daring a quick glance back at us before she’s gone. 

“What is wrong with you?” I steel her with a stern look and she just rolls her eyes.

“She was just curious. Kids around here don’t usually look or talk like you.” Maria explains and Ellie’s nodding then snapping that she wants her gun back but Maria seems unfazed by her attitude, “They also aren’t armed.” Ellie just glares back at Maria, Joel catching my gaze over the kids head and I just shrug lightly as there’s nothing I can do to make Ellie behave. His eyes flick down to my lips before he’s turning back around. 

“You know what? I think maybe ya’ll got a little off on the wrong foot.” Tommy’s shifting in his seat,“Well, we gotta be real careful about who we let in this place. But it’s all bark. We’re just trying to scare off those who might wanna try us is all.” He’s trying to keep the peace but it doesn’t work because Ellie is quick with a retort that has me smacking her shoulder. 

“Well you got a couple of ninety-year-olds who shitting themselves out there. They say that you leave dead bodies around?” She snaps back, stabbing the last bits of food on her plate before glancing up at me, as if to gauge my reaction and see if she went too far. She did go to far and I should be telling her off for it except I’m also curious about what they say in return to it. 

Maria replies, “Those are the people who tried us.” And Tommy is quick to add, “A bad reputation doesn’t mean you’re bad.” He seems to be the peace keeper of the two but my blood boils in my veins when Maria turns her attention to Joel, a look I know so well on her face. It’s not quite hatred but it’s the look most get when they hear about everything Joel’s had to do to survive the last 20 years. It makes me so fucking mad because it’s not like others haven’t done worse and Joel… he did a lot of it to protect me and Tess from others like Robert and the FEDRA soldiers who found amusement in raping and murdering anyone they could, the power going to their heads. 

“Not always, at least.” Maria says, voice full of ice and my chair is scraping across the ground as I jump up, wanting to defend Joel but said man grabs my arm. His honey eyes full of guilt and pain but he’s shaking his head lightly, those eyes flickering down to where my pocketknife is in my hand. Oh. I slowly sit back down, still glaring at Maria and beginning to dislike her for her judgemental nature. I know you have to be ruthless in a world like this but she has no right to call Joel a bad person. 

“Ma’am… we’re grateful for your hospitality and all. But it’d be nice to have a moment here, maybe just for family.” Joel’s voice is tight and his hand in mine behind Ellie’s chair tightens when Tommy takes Maria’s hand in his and tells Joel that Maria is family. I get it. Tommy went off the radio months ago, for us to find him with a wife and a life while Joel dragged himself across the country to find him and make sure he was safe. I rub my thumb across his knuckles as he stays there, stuck staring at their intertwined hands while Ellie sends them her congrats. The smile slipping off her face when she glances between me and Joel, noticing how angry we both her. I heard Tommy on the radio with Joel for months then he stopped responding to Joel’s prompts and I watched Joel tear himself apart, getting into fights and doing stupidly ridiculously smuggle runs despite my pleas for him to be careful. Tess and I could only sit back and watch, patching him up when he came home battered and broken. He broke down one night after coming back from a fight, head on my shoulder as I carded my fingers through those salt and pepper locks, his shoulders shaking and Tommy’s name falling from his lips in a broken sob. I want to punch Tommy there and then but we need a place to stay for the night and here is the best place, 

“How ‘bout a tour.” Tommy stands up and I do the same, drawing Joel up with me. He keeps his hand in mine, pulling close to his side as Ellie and Maria follow us behind Tommy. The town is beautiful, especially decorated for Christmas. Joel’s tensing up at the sight of the giant Christmas tree in the town centre so I just squeeze his hand tighter, trying to ground him to the present before he goes down a downward spiral of Sarah. Tommy doesn’t seem to notice or if he does he ignores it, “I still got my 700, but I found a variable power scope. Sub MOA. Can headshot any infected from half a mile out.” 

“Can you teach me how?” Ellie grins at him. 

“No he cannot.” I interject before Tommy can reply and Tommy just sends her a sheepish shrug while Maria points to different buildings and explains what they are. There’s so much here for seven years worth of work: schools; places of worship; laundry; jail and they have hot water and electricity which I’m guessing is from the dam which is why they cornered us when we got too close to their source of all power. There’s a farm of sheep which has Ellie bounding ahead excitedly, making sheep sounds and giggling to herself. 

“Everything you see in our town… greenhouses, livestock, all shared. Collective ownership,” Maria tells us as we watch Ellie sprint over to the stables, eyes lighting up as she has always had a love of horses. 

“So communism?” Joel finally speaks, glancing at Tommy with a satisfied smirk when he tries to explain it’s not communism but Maria cuts him off and says that it is communism. I have to bury my face in Joel’s shoulder to stifle my laugh as Joel had told me ages ago that Tommy was once in the military… fighting against communism. Seems Tommy has an awakening then as he just stares at us as Joel leads me after Ellie with a smirk gracing his face. I watch as Ellie pets the foal, cooing at the tiny animal and feeding it hay that’s fallen from the stable. 

“Well I’ll take Y/N and Ellie to the house if you two wanna catch up.” Maria speaks and Ellie spins around, panic on her face at Joel telling Maria and Tommy that I stay with him. Ellie whispers our names but I tell her she’ll be okay and it seems to be enough as she nods once and doesn’t protest when Tommy leads me and Joel away. 

*

“Joel. I need to talk to you about Ellie.” I say when we’re sat at the bar, a whiskey in the Miller brothers hands while I opted for something no alcoholic. Joel asked me if he could tell Tommy about Ellie and I agreed but he needs to know Ellie can’t go to the fireflies. He needs to know they plan on killing her to try and make a vaccine despite people even before the outbreak of the cordyceps saying a vaccine isn’t possible. 

“So the kid?” Tommy asks, glancing between us and I just nudge Joel slightly. 

“She’s immune.” Tommy straightens up, probably about to tell us that’s not a funny joke but Joel continues, “I saw her get bit and she didn’t get sick. We’re taking her to the Fireflies,” Something crosses Tommy’s face at that, having been part of the fireflies not too long ago. Oh. He must have heard the rumours, “They think she’s the answer to a cure.” 

“She’s not.” My mouth feels dry as I speak before Tommy can respond to Joel and both of them are turning to me. I have to down my drink to even be able to try and speak again, confusion on Joel’s face, “I’ve seen the interviews from before the outbreak. A cure is not possible. The fireflies are too stubborn to understand this and if they were to try and take the mutation from Ellie…” I’m trailing off, rubbing the back of my neck and not meeting either of their eyes. 

“Ellie has to die?” Joel’s voice is strained and I nod, feeling a lump swelling in my throat and my vision is blurring slightly, “How long has you known?”

“W-when we left.” My voice is barely a whisper and I expect the shattering of the glass from Joel. He’d be throwing the glass if we were back in the QZ, yelling about how I could be so stupid, letting me put us in so much danger and keeping such vital information from him but nothing like that happens. A gruff sigh is exhaled before the glass hits the table with force but then hands are yanking me from my stool and into his broad chest. Joel’s strong arms wrap around me and I slide my hands under the back of his shirt, burying my face in his chest and just breathing in everything Joel. The comforting smell of burnt coffee; woodsy musk and something citrusy has me dizzy with safety and want and… love? The soft press of his lips against my forehead has me whimpering out a soft, “Are you mad?” 

“No, I just wish you had trusted me enough to tell me earlier,” He murmurs, no anger in his voice at all and his lips are ghosting over my forehead, “You mean everything to me, you can trust me.” 

“I do trust you,” I pull back enough to see his face, features soft and open, leaning into my touch when I brush my knuckles over his cheek, honey eyes fluttering shut before I remember Tommy’s still here. He’s moved away from us to give us privacy but I can feel him watching, catching the smile as he cleans glasses, “I’ll leave you two to catch up. I should check and see if Ellie and Maria are being civil.” 

“Yeah that’s a good idea.” He hums in agreement, sending a quick glance at Tommy who has his back to us suddenly and it’s enough for Joel to surge down, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. It draws a shocked gasp from me, not expecting the urgency, “I’ll find you.” 

“I’ll talk to Ellie.” 

*

“WHAT?! YOU KNEW?!” Ellie screams, tears glazing her clover eyes as she stands opposite me, chest heaving with anger. 

“Ellie…” I reach for her but stop halfway, not wanting to push her, “I can’t watch you die.” 

“That’s not your choice to make.” 

“There’s proof a cure can’t be made Ellie!” I can’t keep my voice steady, hearing the door open and close below us, “I’m not going to let you die for nothing!” 

“There’s proof?” She calms down a little.

“Yes. I asked Maria if she could find the tapes. Go find Maria. If you still want to go after… fine,  we’ll take you but if not… there’s a place here for us.” I sigh and she nods once, shouldering past me and down the stairs, the front door slamming shut behind her and I just let my knees go. I’m crying, everything from the last few months crashing down on me like a tonne of bricks. Tess’ death, saying goodbye to Bill and Frank, watching Sam and Henry die and now this… Ellie walking away from me with anger and hatred. 

“Hey, there you are sweet girl.” Joel’s surrounding me, arms around me and he’s pulling me into his chest. He doesn’t speak, just holds me and lets me cry, hands carding through my hair and lips ghosting over my cheek as I let everything out. The ache in my chest loosening with each passing second until I’m just curled in his lap, head on his shoulder and his lips peppering sweet kisses across my face before he’s kissing me properly. Lips meeting like old friends, soft and delicate, his large hands gripping my hips strong and tight as I’ll slip away, “Come on, they have hot water.” 

I just let him guide me to my feet, leading me from Ellie’s room and down the corridor to the bathroom where towels, clothes and other necessities are ready waiting as if Joel knew it’s what I would need. He probably heard us yelling, knowing Ellie wouldn’t go quietly with the information and he was right. I watch as Joel turns the shower on before coming back to me, his fingertip ghosting down my sides until they’re fiddling with the hem of my shirt, honey eyes searching for consent which of course I’m going to give him. He’s slow and gentle with his movements, pulling the shirt over my head and making sure it doesn’t catch on my hair before hands move to my jeans. His eyes stay on mine the whole time he’s sliding them down my legs, taking my underwear with them so I’m just stood in front of him in my bra. His next moves surprise me, he’s pulling his shirt over his own head and shimmying his jeans down his thick thighs. His boxers slide down next, the air stolen from my lips as he’s huge and he’s not even erect. It has my thighs trembling slightly, trying hard to not imagining how he’d practically split me apart and how he seems the type to praise-

The rough pads of his fingers are fiddling with the clasp of my bra and I’m shivering when it falls to the floor, Joel’s hands in mine as he leads me into the shower. It’s sweet and soft, making sure the water isn’t too hot and that I’m comfortable with this. He doesn’t speak but shows me how much I truly mean to him with every gentle brush of the wash cloth against my skin or way he massages my scalp when washing my hair. Every brush elites a fire in my gut and I’m wanting him but I don’t want to misread anything and push him away so I take the first risk, leaning back against his chest. His arms instinctively wrap around my waist, lips on my shoulder and my hand is coming back to tangle in his hair and it’s like he understands what I want. His teeth nip at the sensitive skin on my neck, just below my jaw, while his right hand slides lower, fingers brushing over my clit. The hand in his hair tightening and a chuckles rumbles in his chest as he continues, sliding two fingers along my wet folds until he’s plunging one into my aching heat. A mewl is ripped from my throat, my back arching down into the intrusion and I’m guiding him into a messy kiss as he begins to move. It’s hot and passionate and everything I’ve always wanted in Joel, his teeth catching my bottom lip between his teeth when he adds a second finger and my thighs are trembling, the feeling of bliss coming closer and closer. 

“I’ve got you sweet girl,” He murmurs against my cheek, nose brushing lightly over it as his fingers curl one final time, “That’s it, come on, let go.” I’m crying his name, pressing my ass against his twitching erection as I roll my hips down onto his fingers, my mind whiting out as it washes through me, “That’s it baby girl, I’m so proud of you.” He coos as my legs give way, his from grip on my waist holding me up as he pulls his fingers out. I think my eyes roll back into my head when he brings them up to his own lips and sucking them clean, honey eyes on me the whole time. 

“J-Joel,” My voice is shaky, “Joel, I need you.” 

“Fuck.” He groans into my neck before stepping away from me. He’s turning the shower off and leading me out, grabbing one of the towels and taking his time to dry me. He trails kisses after the towel, eyes darkening with want and love as I can’t keep the small sounds to myself. He haphazardly dries himself off before he’s gripping my hand and we’re practically stumbling into the bedroom opposite the bathroom. 

I’m laying back on the bed, Joel climbing over me, glancing up at me as the swollen and weeping head brushes over my folds. He’s asking for permission even after I just told him I need him. Fuck, I love this man so fucking much. I’m wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him inside and it tears a sound from me as he’s so big. It’s a beautiful pain, Joel drawing me into a kiss and my hands tugging at his salt and pepper locks while he wraps me up in his strong and safe arms. Joel had always seemed the type to have sex, not make love but the way he’s taking his time drawing long and deep strokes with his hips, the head catching that sweet spot with every in thrust has me realising otherwise. It’s slow and full of love, as if he’s trying to show me how much I mean to him and it just adds to everything. 

“Joel,” His name is dragged from my lips when he sits back on his heels, arms wrapping around my thighs and pulling himself deeper and closer than I imagined possible, tip brushing my cervix as his thrusts are becoming erratic and he’s getting closer and closer, dragging me with him, my walls fluttering around him with every drag. It’s hot and that building of pleasure is right there, a hand finding Joel’s around my thighs as the other grips the sheets when he brings his other hand to rub circles into my clit. That’s all it takes for me to come, my back arching into him and walls clamping, trying to keep him pressed up against that sweet spot and he’s not far behind. A guttural moan ripped from him as he lurches forwards, capturing me into a kiss as he fills me up both of us laying there, panting and trying to regain some form of normalcy. 

“You mean everything to me.” He’s murmuring, pulling out and flopping next to me, head turning to me. His honey eyes are full of sincerity, hair fluffed and messy against his forehead, softness taking years from his weather worn skin and all I can feel is one word… Love. 

“I love you Joel.” It comes tumbling out before I can stop it and he stops. It’s a minute before he’s turning onto his side to face me properly, hand cupping my cheek and thumb rubbing over my cheekbone, eyes soft and they’re slightly glazed as if he’s going to cry. 

“I’m not good for much you know,” He moves his thumb to my lips when go to retort that he is good, “But I want you love you and take care of you if you’ll let me. Ellie too.” 

“I would love that.” 

“I love you.”

---------

Chapter One ⇢ Save Who You Can Save

Chapter Two ⇢ Stitches

Chapter Three ⇢ Keep You Safe

Chapter Four  ⇢ Escape Kansas City

Chapter Five ⇢ Finding Tommy

Chapter Six ⇢ 

Chapter Seven ⇢ Crossed Paths

Chapter Eight ⇢ Finding Family

Chapter Nine ⇢ Two Become One

Chapter Ten ⇢ Coming Soon

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

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#Joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x y/n #Joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller series #Joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfics #tlou x reader #tlou smut #tlou fluff #tlou joel #Joel tlou #the last of us joel #Pedro pascal

[wanderlust-writings]

Into the Ether

Here I am, again screaming into another digital ether, hoping and praying that someone will see me.

It’s odd I suppose this continual sense of longing. I don’t know if it will ever be satiated. Perhaps this is the malady that is etched into my DNA; a predestined curse that I will never be able to be fully free from. It will always linger, dormant at times but always festering waiting, feeding.

People tell me to stop, to simply ignore it or force it into submission. But how can I change something that is so intrinsically a part of me? These are the questions that I want to scream in their face when they tell me to smile more or simply turn off the roaring thoughts in my brain. The only cure that I’ve thought about consists of carving open my skull and scooping out my brain like cantaloupe. Finally my mind would be an empty basin of silence that I could reside in, bathe in peacefully, maybe even potentially thrive in.

I think the worst part is having the things that comfort my soul be turned against me. I wonder if it has always been like that or is this new phenomenon of self-comparison and hatred an unseen side-effect of social media.

It’s all just so loud.

Voices are being poured into me constantly until I’m choking and gasping for air. I question how can my voice even be heard amounts all the traffic. Even if I were to scream, it would only sound as loud as a penny being dropped on the sidewalk—unnoticed. Their voices rip into my heart like sharpened talons tearing into my self-worth and confidence. That lingering presence stirs at the scratch of these talons. It knows it’s about to be fed, that the dinner bell has been rung. I try to beat it into submission to tell it the sound was merely a drop of water in a bucket nothing worth stirring for but it doesn’t believe me. Soon it has me tied up, laying belly-up on a placemat, wet saliva dripping onto my belly, rabid for the feast that is about to take place.

You’re not enough. How dare you call yourself an artist, let alone a writer? You’ll never amount to anything. You’re nothing.

I don’t want to listen. I don’t mean to inflame it any further but I can’t help but throw more wood on the burning flame. It’s hard to believe these soft, light, hopeful dreams when the evidence points to the contrary. How many followers? How many likes? Views? Reposts? Push harder and harder, scream louder and louder until your vocal cords are shredded and torn and you’re once again silenced.

Is it a fatal flaw of mine? This longing for glory? This need to self-mutate my dreams until they are nothing more than a scrap of garage buried underneath the unfulfilled dreams of the millions? Is it my pride that is secretly my poison? The double edged sword that I can’t use without slicing some part of me open as well, will I ever learn to wield it? Or will this dragon that dwells within me hoard that information until I’m withered and grey and unable to lift it anymore? Am I the problem? I must be. This mutation within my DNA is as much a part of me as it is a foreign adversary. Will we ever be able to exist in harmony or forever be caught in this war of dissonance?

I don’t have answers for these questions that haunt me at the wee hours of the morning?

So I’ll continue to shout, cry, purge, unburden, and fight into this dark ether until I stumble out into the light again.

#creative writing #writing #writers on tumblr #poetry #poets on tumblr #female writers #writers and poets #writerscommunity #blog #passing thoughts #mental health #mental illness

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

2023 in the Rear-View Mirror

2024 in My Crystal Ball

Stephen Jay Morris

12/23/2023

©Scientific Morality.

Dyslexia is a learning disorder that presents challenges to someone in reading and understanding language. Dyscalculia is to have difficulty with numbers or math. I suffer from both. Dyscalculia is the worst of the two. Thanks to technology, I have a calculator. I’ve always hated math. Whenever I would try to solve a math problem, I’d get a headache. I was often uncertain of the current year. It took me a few years to master telling time. It was a chore to remember dates. When I had a job selling newspapers, I had problems giving change.

I might have inherited the disorder from my mother. I had to nag her to put dates on her paintings. Now, I put dates on all of my articles. It may be a big factor for detectives and scholars of history. Not everyone has a good memory for dates. Everybody remembers their birth date, but hardly anyone knows the date the U.S. Constitution was ratified. Dates are important for everything. Ask anybody when their house was constructed, and you get a blank stare. I am very anal retentive when it comes to dates.

So, what was 2023 like? If you are a self-centered person, you talk about your money and brag about your health. Maybe in 2023, you found Jesus or bought a new car, or got laid for the second time in your life. I don’t know anything about you, and I don’t care. I only care about me!!

Just joking. It’s bad enough that I must think about myself. That is why I care about politics, religion, science, and sports. Gets my mind off my ragged ass. So, what was 2023 like in America and around the globe? Well, nothing that hasn’t been seen before. There was an egomaniac with followers who think he was sent by God. A right-wing Government in Israel who is performing genocide on Semitic Palestinians in the Gaza Strip. The war in Ukraine against Russian imperialists that is raging on. Religious Right fanatics are spreading hatred toward LBGTQ+ because drag queens are reading children’s stories to children in libraries. Youth pastors across the fruited plains are molesting kids. Why is that story not being featured on the nightly news? Hmmmm…I wonder why! The conservatives thought it was a fantastic idea to run America like a business. Ha! And they call me stupid! Now the religious Right wants to run America like a church! Imagine that!!

The good news was: Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr released a new Beatles song thanks to Artificial Intelligence. Taylor Swift is breaking attendance records at her concerts. Covid cases have dwindled. Electric car sales are up. Sickle Cell Anemia is almost cured. And many more.

So, what can we look forward to in 2024? Maybe you will get laid for the 4th time, or maybe you will win your state’s lottery. Maybe, baby! Look, I am not a Nostradamus, and I don’t read tea leaves. I don’t know what the future holds. Good, bad, or indifferent, whatever happens, happens. All I have is the past to reflect upon. I remember how depressing it was after the Kenndey assassination occurred in 1963. Then after the first two months of 1964, the Beatles happened, and the ambiance got bright again. I wish something new and original would happen this new year, like visitors from another planet land on the White House lawn. But it will never happen because subjective reality has no imagination.

Or? Marianne Williamson will be elected president, and she will greet the space Aliens with a bouquet of flowers. Wouldn’t that be based? Fuck, yeah it would!

#stephenjaymorris #poets on tumblr #american politics #poets of tumblr #anarchism #baby boomers #anarchopunk #youtube #anarchocommunism #anarcho primitivism #anarchofeminism #anarcho syndicalism #anarcho capitalism #progressive #marianne williamson

[therecordconnection]

Ranting and Raving: "Mad World" by Tears For Fears

Gary Jules did irreparable damage to song covers made for and used in movies. A crime he didn’t intend to commit, but nevertheless did.

Do you like movie trailers? Do you like when the music in the trailer is a really slow and moody cover of a usually upbeat pop song? You know what I’m talking about, even if you aren’t fully conscious of it. The sad cover version of a song in a movie trailer has been a staple for over a decade now. Ready Player One sucked any and all joy out of “Pure Imagination.” The Batman butchered Nirvana’s “Something In the Way,” turning it into something that is just as dull, dark, and dilapidated as that movie was. The worst offender I know of is A Cure For Wellness having a version of the Ramones’ “I Wanna Be Sedated” that sure did leave me sedated. There are tons of these out there, I just named a few of the ones that stick out in my mind the most.

If you want to find where this phenomenon first began, you have to go back to 2001 and the movie Donnie Darko. The film’s composer, Michael Andrews, wanted the end sequence to be a rendition of an old Tears For Fears song, “Mad World.” He had a friend, Gary Jules, who was up to the task.

It became a massive hit and we’re all worse off because of it. Every single terrible sad cover of a pop song you hear in a movie is a direct result of what Gary did. His rendition of “Mad World” is one of my most hated songs. I hate everything about it. Gary’s nasally, whiny voice that sounds like if I kicked Michael Stipe in the nuts, stripping the music down to just a sad-boy piano which removes any and all lyrical dissonance that made the original what it was, all of it. There are few songs in this world that infuriate me, Gary found a way to make the top of my list. It’s a song that removes any feeling I get from the original song. I’m left completely numb and not in a good way. It remains my go-to example of how a cover version can absolutely ruin what originally made a song great. I’m in the camp that believes the Tears For Fears original is the definitive version. With the song having celebrated its 40th anniversary this year, I thought it would be appropriate to try and explain why I find the original so captivating.

But before we get to that, let me answer this question: “Does this mean you hate Donnie Darko too?” I’ll be honest, I’ve never liked Donnie Darko, but I don’t have hatred towards it. I think it’s kind of a stupid movie, but I get why it has it still has its fans. It’s kinda hard to ignore a movie where the plot is more or less about a mysterious figure in a rabbit costume who convinces a possibly schizophrenic Jake Gyllenhaal to go commit crimes because the world is going to end in twenty-eight days. People think it holds up and I’m not going to tell them they’re wrong. No, the only part of the movie I actively hate is Gary’s bastardization of “Mad World.” Everything else is fine.

So, Tears For Fears. For those who may be unaware, they’re the famous British duo of Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith, hailing from Bath, England. If the name rings a bell but you’re a bit fuzzy, it’s due to having heard their eighties classics like “Shout,” “Head Over Heels,” and “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” the last of which is one of the greatest pop songs ever recorded. “Mad World” is one that most people know, but I imagine younger generations are more familiar with Gary’s version and think of that one first. I’m aware that the band adore Gary’s version and have performed it live several times over the years, but I’ve said enough about it. Let’s focus on the TFF original.

One thing that I think will catch someone off guard immediately is how different the original is compared to what Gary did with it. Roland and Curt took a lot of inspiration from early Depeche Mode, Kraftwerk, Gary Numan, all of whom were synth and new wave pioneers. “Mad World” takes a little bit from each of those guys and immediately creates something otherworldly from that influence. It’s a cold song, musically. Most of the song is made up of synthesizers, sequencers, drum machines, and programming. It’s strangely robotic, but not so cold that you don’t immediately get an emotion from it. The bass synth accompanying Curt’s vocals during the verses just nails that melancholy atmosphere instantly. What makes “Mad World” well, mad, musically is that it’s more or less a song you can dance to (which Roland does by busting out some cheesy but rather impressive moves in the song’s video) while a very sad individual pours his heart and soul out to you. That alone is what draws me to the original. That juxtaposition and dissonance is what creates a lasting effect. It’s also true to life: battling anxiety and depression doesn’t stop the noises or the world outside from moving and that’s what the song is doing musically: it doesn’t stop moving. It can’t stop moving. The sequencers and the drum machines are programmed to keep going and going until someone or something turns it off. When you strip the song down to just a piano, you lose all of that impact. The lyrics are still there, but there’s nothing to create a contrast.

Lyrically, the song works with the music because it’s describing a world that doesn’t fit with the music. The music represents everyone else, not the person singing the song. Hell, it fits because even the narrator feels like they don’t fit in with the rest of the world. The first verse:

"All around me are familiar faces / Worn-out places, worn-out faces / Bright and early for their daily races / Going nowhere, going nowhere / And their tears are filling up their glasses / No expression, no expression / Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow / No tomorrow, no tomorrow"

The narrator laments that daily life is just a vicious cycle. The narrator observes people living their day to day lives, doing the same thing over and over again, never being able to break the cycle they can’t seem to see themselves. This first verse is a common pessimistic view of things. The second verse is where I think things become the most bleak in the song.

"Children waiting for the day they feel good / Happy birthday, happy birthday / Made to feel the way that every child should / Sit and listen, sit and listen"

Imagine having the belief that the only day children feel good is on their birthday. Yeesh. That may be the case for some and it’s easy to see how the band sells that view. What other day out of the year shows a child that they’re unique and special and are different from most other people? None, really. The possible bleakness in a birthday also comes into play with “sit and listen.” Children “sit and listen” as others sing happy birthday to them at a birthday party, which is a positive thing! Here, the band is talking about a birthday reinforcing the “sit and listen” concept into the grander idea of “children should be seen and not heard.” Again, these lyrics are sung over synthesized horns, keyboards, and a drum machine dance beat! When you read the lyrics to “Mad World” without all of that, you get someone’s incredibly melancholy and incredibly sad view of the world around them. It makes you wonder what on Earth happens to someone that gets them to start thinking this way? Orzabal himself grew up amid domestic violence and abuse through his childhood, so that’s one possible explanation. The observations continue with the rest of the verse:

"Went to school and I was very nervous / No one knew me, no one knew me / Hello, teacher, tell me what's my lesson / Look right through me, look right through me"

Feelings of anxiety, feeling unknown, being relegated to the background and looked through as if you aren’t even there. Every line hits in just the right way. Vague enough to be open to interpretation, but specific enough that the exact feelings the lines are trying to convey get across perfectly. “Mad World” isn’t the most poetic song, but it doesn’t need to be. It does exactly what it sets out to do and works with the music to achieve that.

However, the lines everyone latched on to and made famous would be these:

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad / The dreams in which I'm dying / Are the best I've ever had

Orzabal, the lyricist for “Mad World,” rejects the idea that these lines reflect suicidal thoughts. In a 2017 interview talking about the story behind the song, he says those lines were inspired by psychologist Arthur Janov, author of The Primal Scream and the man behind the theory of primal therapy. Janov’s belief was that our most dramatic dreams release the most tension, so the lyric “The dreams in which I’m dying / Are the best I’ve ever had” become the only form of escape the narrator has; the only way to start feeling better. The beauty of those lines is in how confessional they are. It takes an immense amount of courage to admit to someone that “the dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.” You have to be carrying around some kind of darkness, some intense pain inside to write a sentence like that. Whether you subscribe to Janov’s theory or not, it’s clear that Roland tapped into something that none of his peers had tapped into before. Lyrically, nothing from 1982 sounds like “Mad World.” It’s not hard to see how people became attracted to the song and first gave it attention all those years ago.

I love the final chorus of the song. That’s when the song really becomes the most maddening. The way the music escalates as Curt runs through the lines. The drums are pounding wildly and all over the place, the synths and keyboards are droning, almost as if they’re trying to drown him out. It sounds like it’s on the verge of breaking and losing complete control... and then Curt sings “Mad world...” and the music calms back down and shifts back into place.

I find it hard to tell you / 'Cause I find it hard to take / When people run in circles / It's a very, very / Mad world

To lighten things up a bit, if there’s any warmth to be found within the song, it lies with Curt Smith’s performance. He sticks out as the lone human element amongst the musical machinery and delivers a vocal that manages to walk a fine line where it’s melancholy and downtrodden but never melodramatic. Other vocalists like Robert Smith of the Cure or Morrissey from the Smiths could probably perform a song like this, but I don’t think it would’ve turned out the same way. There’s this innocence and a certain sorrow to Curt’s voice that really sells the idea that the narrator has been walking around viewing the world in such a depressing and dark way. His is a voice you can sympathize with even if you don’t see the world in the same way. There’s a melodic quality to it that’s just beautiful. There’s beauty to be found in this song, even amidst all the chaos and despair.

I love this song and I don’t think the original gets the credit it truly deserves. There’s nothing quite like it and every attempt to recreate it and reverse engineer it has failed in my eyes. Tears For Fears capture anxiety and depression in a way that is so vulnerable and so human. They capture what it feels like to truly be able to see and be aware of a world where so many people are blind to the fact that they’re all walking around with the same kinds of pain and despair. They capture how it feels to be caught in a world where people and things never stop, where people never really take stock of what’s happening around them. People run in circles and history repeats itself, the same kinds of sorrow and pain that infected the previous generation keep coming back to do the same to the next one.

If one of the goals of Art is to take pain and turn it into something beautiful, something good, then Roland and Curt succeeded. There’s a reason their work continues to endure and be enjoyed forty years later. Their debut album, The Hurting, turns forty next year and if you like this song, I recommend it. The rest of the album explores themes of psychology, depression, abuse, and most importantly, it explores how to begin confronting childhood pain as an adult. It’s well worth your time. Roland and Curt show you that it's a very very mad world indeed.

#original content #ranting and raving #tears for fears #mad world #music criticism #music essay #Youtube

[mass-convergence]

(Not mine, artist is alleyvalkyrie but doesn’t look like they have a tumblr else I’d reblog it)

Tbh… sometimes I don’t really want advice. I’ve gotten advice my whole life that’s been largely unhelpful or worst yet … so steeped in toxic positivity that I just make a note to never approach that person again with my problems. It makes it obvious that they feel uncomfortable with me expressing my emotions and it also is just annoying as frick.

Aside: I do really understand the sentiment behind those people who do try to offer advice or fix the situations and not really realize they’re being unhelpful. In a way I agree with what someone said that it’s not exactly “toxic” because that implies a certain level of malice. It’s more like “unhelpful”.

So for those who have friends and family who are struggling with depression, anxiety, and other mental health issues: I know how hard it is to see someone who’s obviously hurting and feel like you can’t do anything. I understand the reflex to tell them “it could be worse” or “stay positive” or “negativity attracts negativity”. I understand the urge to say something or offer advice to just make them feel better.

But as someone who’s currently dealing with the Herculean task of clawing themselves out of a deep, dark pit of self-loathing and self-hatred:

Depression skews and distorts the way you see the world and you see yourself. It’s not just a mindset it is a literal chemical imbalance in the brain. It’s not just “drink water” or “get some more vitamin D” - those can definitely help soften the impact but nothing cures depression. You treat it, you struggle through the bad days (or in my case: month), and you trudge on through life mostly motivated by spite. And some days you’re fine, maybe even happy. Hell: sometimes I’m on top of the world. And others I’m just struggling to make it through the day.

And I’ve berated myself for not taking care of myself, for not doing all I can to fight this beast - to crawl out of the pit. To say: “I’m in a hell of my own making and I can just get better if I ✨✨❤️ stay positive ❤️✨✨”

But fuck that tbh. It requires time, support, and pharmaceuticals in most cases. And unfortunately in some cases … you don’t really recover from depression you just manage it the best you can.

If depression was cured by a positive mindset or being kind to yourself then no one would be depressed.

So to bring it back to that comic: sometimes you can’t say or do anything to help and don’t try to force it. Just being there for someone, just saying “hey, I don’t know what you’re going through but it sounds rough - what can I do?”

That’s good enough.

Even if that person just blanks on what you can actually do in that moment to help. Just knowing someone’s willing to fight for you can be comforting enough.

(And disclaimer because I know not all mental illnesses are the same: ymmv and this is just one view on a complex issue but also I will say largely - unhelpful or toxic positivity doesn’t help anyone)

#mental health shit #mental health #depression #most certainly not my art please support that artist

[d3nt4l-d4m4g3]

A few days ago, I emailed my former professor about a paper on women’s food practices in the middle ages. At least, that’s what I told him it was about, initially. 

But actually, I wanted to discuss heresy. This professor teaches a women’s rights course every year. Every year at the beginning of the class, he calls attention to why he, a man, is talking about women’s rights. He looks us in the eyes and says, no one else is doing it, and I’m sorry it’s me.

This man made us read the SCUM manifesto, Gerda Lerner, Maria Mies. He grazed the subject of the Lesbian Sex Wars, delicately, so gingerly, posing the question: “Can sex work ever be just work?”  And my  (all woman) classmates, generally mute—in a Women’s Rights class, they all seemed averse to saying the word “woman,” at all. Then one woman raised her hand. and she said, “Sex work is real work.”  A statement that, as I hope you know, is a deflection and a discussion killer.  

At the time I was non-binary. Hah. I submitted a comic at the end of the year of my final project. My thesis for that project was this: the very language female people have to use for themselves was constructed by the patriarchy. for example, the english word “vagina” comes from the latin word for “sheath”. so the vagina invokes the act of penetration upon its utterance. Whereas the word “penis” has no clear etymological root, implying that it is original while the vagina is constructed for him. Why should I carry the fact that I will always be a tool, the hole, of the human that is man? My solution, at the end of the comic, was to continue using they/them pronouns, to shield myself from the horror of being a wo-man, a s-he—an appendage of Him. 

I got a good grade. A stellar report. And it wasn’t a bad comic, for what I knew then. For my condition of blindness and deafness. I made a compelling argument, using sources from class.  But oh, how much older I feel now. I’ve always felt old but now I feel almost like I’m dying. Like I don’t have enough time to fix the world before I disappear. And women’s stories never survive. They are not surviving. networks spring up like mycelium and then every century at least they are burned. Witchcraft is in the air shared by women in a room of their own, and witchcraft is doused in gasoline.

I don’t have enough time to explain how the veil lifted for me. Maybe I forget the big moment. the days after were a blur of searching the no-no tags like radical feminist, GNC, gender critical. Amazed at the wealth of journals that these women linked to with real statistics showing that children are being sterilized for no reason. Mostly gay children. like me, a lesbian, who now lives in a house with three  “non-binary afabs”. This summer, one of these women, who I have known since freshman year, will start taking testosterone, a procedure I took up  for three turbulent months during my freshman year of college. I get to watch her become what I turned away from, knowing the experience fractured my sense of self to a point of  terror and estrangement. I get to watch her hide from her problems and cut herself off from womanhood the way I did for 3 years. I am not a woman, so do I not feel Woman’s pain, she is telling me, I told myself, when I was in a dream.  She has so many problems, she laughs. But trans is a separate problem that has nothing to do with those other problems. A coincidence.

 (For any trans people reading this, you may think: This transtrender fake-trans never-was-trans woman is treating these nonbinary people as if they were dead! as if they weren’t happy people finally living their truth! —well. I put my mom through the process of trying to convince her that I should have always been a man. and I did lose her, for months. For her it was the height of cognitive dissonance that I should want to go on a life-altering hormone to cure my lifelong social awkwardness and self-hatred and self-harm and depression. And I blamed her for not accepting my real self. I was basically made to shun her and my family because of transphobia.. It is disrespectful to anyone’s sanity and integrity for me to perpetuate that cognitive dissonance in this post.)

So I eventually got through to the professor. I knew because of the texts he had us to read for class. He is gay.  He has read all the theory, and lives by it.  And no (woman) student wants to speak to him. To bring the theory alive. They cannot breathe into it and it sits dead in his mouth.

Maybe it is because he is a man. because the presence of one man in a space of all women immediately sends up alerts.  lockdown. Certainly that is the case. Radical Feminists here: I know he’s a man. But I don’t have a woman. And I felt on the strength of the texts he’d given us that he would be my best bet. Maybe somewhere in the corrupted, rotting heart of my college there was a person who knew about thoughtcrimes and was thinking them anyway.

My professor starts with diversion. He starts by talking about my paper. I find it disconcerting that he starts that way. I worry that he won’t want to refer to my email. Where I say: I have woken up from a dream to the apocalypse—Does this man think I’m crazy? Chipper and kind of frantically, he lists off  primary sources of medieval nuns and women saints. for my paper.  Does this man think I’ve turned into a bigot?  Am I confessing lunacy, like a flat-earther?

But I steer the conversation to the meat at his first tentative encouragement. I tell him something like: “children, mostly gay children, a whole generation of gay children, are being sterilized. Porn is a symptom of late-stage capitalism—men’s ownership of women’s bodies. trans is an extension of this. I was part of this. I was in a cult.” I was shaking a bit. I don’t think I’d uttered those words out loud. They sound crazy. Some of the things I said did sound far-fetched. disorganized, remote. But I prayed that my professor would believe some of it, any of it. 

 What I will say is that he believes me.  Thank fuck, right?

He tells me something along the lines of this, vocalizing my fears: 

that all of academia is being scrubbed of anything that doesn’t support Trans.

And it is trans-identified female students and women who are reporting him to Title IX, who spend all their time in his classes fuming at the lack of validation for trans women in the  history of women. My sisters, footsoldiers for the cause. What cruel irony. This man is holding onto this class by his fingernails, speaking through his teeth, hoping any of the twenty young adult women staring blankly or angrily at him will hear him and listen.

 Looking back, the professor’s responses to my emails are vague, completely refusing to acknowledge a point of view other than “WOW. I look forward to discussing this.”  I think he thinks he could be blackmailed. Anything he says on gmail dot com can and would be used against him. It’s like, really, really, really that bad. 

No ideology should involve a cultural cleaning of women’s history feat. witch hunts. 

I will end here with an excerpt from my first email to this professor:

I'm sure you know what a total bummer it is to realize this. 

#detransition #tra #gender critical #radical feminism #radfem #radblr #feminism #academia

[thechangeling]

Tell me a story

Ty doesn't believe in fate.

A shout out to @ilikebooks8 for convincing me to make a fanfic about autistic!Eleanor Blackthorn. Autism is genetic so it makes sense for Ty to have autistic ancestors. If you are autistic I guarentee you have someone in your family who is also autistic they just haven't been diagnosed yet. For me, I've got my dad.

Cw: mentions of ableism, abuse and the death of a minor character. Very anti Andrew Blackthorn.

"Tell me a story," Tiberius' asked, in that mature, matter- of-fact way he spoke. Ty was only eight but already he sounded like a boy twice his age in terms of his vocabulary and the way he spoke.

Although he still had the voice of a child which was rather amusing. Eleanor turned to face her son with a groan as she felt searing pain shoot through her bones. She had been laying down all day due to feeling extremely unwell. The noises and lights of the outside world were especially brutal, but she had gotten used to it overtime. She had learned to cope. To smile and nod and make eye contact. To control her movements and still her hands and laugh at their jokes.

Eleanor played the part of the proper shadowhunter and the dutiful wife, the attentive mother. It didn't matter that it had changed her. Had completely turned her into a different person, someone harsher and colder. Someone who was so quick to anger and venomous hatred.

Someone who only knew how to be in pain.

She always tried to not let that side of her show to her children. They didn't deserve it. But the past few weeks in particular had been brutal. Her body felt broken and it was becoming harder and harder to put up that facade.

She faced Ty with the best fake smile she could muster. "Which story would you like to hear?" He climbed up on the bed beside her and sat down in an odd twisted position where his legs were in a W position. He began tapping his hands on his knees as he appeared to contemplate his choices.

Eleanor could remember a time when she was younger when she used to do that. Before her parents had stopped her. She knew she should really tell Tiberius off to discourage him from doing these things in public. He was so blatent and open in a way that frightened and almost angered her. There was no telling what kind of reaction The Clave might have.

She didnt want him to end up with the dregs, or worse.

"I don't know," Ty said finally scrunching up his eyebrows. "I can't think of one right now. Could you make one up?" Eleanor smiled in spite of herself. She had always loved making up stories ever since she was a kid. She had always been a creative person, painting and drawing as often as she could. Shadowhunters didn't really appreciate a creative streak.

Eleanor nodded. "Ok sure, let's see." She took a breath, trying to ignore the agony spreading through her back and shoulders. "Once upon a time there was a prince who was trapped in a tower that was guarded by an evil ogar. The prince had been rumored to have special powers so he was forced by his parents to stay locked away in the tower forever to keep him safe. He wasnt allowed to make friends with any other children so he grew up alone. Teaching himself how to read and write and playing games to amuse himself."

Ty rolled his eyes. "Isn't that rather cliche? The whole prince trapped in a tower story? I've definitely heard that before."

Eleanor laughed. "Where did you hear the word cliche Tiberius?" Ty shrugged, not seeing the amusement in the situation.

"It was in a book. Can you keep going?" He whined impatiently. "I wanna hear the rest."

Eleanor sighed, shaking her head good naturedly. "Alright then. So the prince was trapped for a very long time. Then one day a mysterious adventurer came exploring nearby the tower."

"Can it be a detective?" Ty interrupted, bouncing up and down. He had been obsessed with Clue lately.

"Alright sure, it was a detective. He was searching the answers to a murder mystery. The murder of a young women."  Ty instantly looked interested. Perhaps murder was not the best subject for a story being told to an eight year old, but Ty was a shadowhunter. They were trained to deal with blood and death.

"His was searching for information and came across the tower," she continued. So he decided to investigate. He snuck passed the ogar and into the tower, where he was ambushed by the prince!"

Ty gasped excitedly, wriggling in place. "What happened next? Did they fight?"

Eleanor opened her mouth to continue, but then the bedroom door flew open, startling them both.

It was Andrew. Instantly Ty shrunk himself down, hunching his shoulders. Eleanor knew that Ty didn't always get along with his father but she knew Andrew still loved him deep down. He glared at them both.

"Ty your mother is meant to be resting," he said pointedly.

Eleanor shook her head. "Oh no it's alright. He wasn't bothering me." Andrew didn't seem to hear her.

"Tiberius let's go," he said harshly. Ty hesitated for a moment, looking up at her.

"But I wanna hear the rest of the story!" He protested. "I wanna know what happens to the prince!" Eleanor sighed solemnly. She didn't want to disappoint Ty, but she was feeling pretty worn out.

"Another time baby," she assured him. "I promise."

But unfortunately she never got the chance. She never got the chance because little did they know, Eleanor Blackthorn had cancer. Something that silent brothers couldn't cure. Something that shadowhunters were powerless against.

"What are you thinking about ?" Kit murmered from his spot curled up against Ty's chest. His breath tickled Ty's chin.

Ty paused, not quite sure how to answer. They were lying on the roof of the LA institute again. It was their special spot. Kit had suggested a night of star gazing for a date since the weather was nice.

Things has been a little weird between them lately. Kit had been pretending that everything was fine and he was unfazed, but Ty could tell that something was bothering him. And he had a feeling he knew what it was.

At Magnus and Alec's anniversary party, Jace made a joke about how Kit and Ty would probably be the next ones to get married and Ty immediately went into a blind panic. He completely froze up at the mention of marriage. At the mention of him getting married. His body instantly went into a complete overload almost as if he was on the verge of a meltdown.

He didn't take the time to think about any of it. He just snapped and yelled that he wasn't getting married. That he wasn't ever getting married. Ty wasnt even sure where it came from. Kit was pretending like it wasnt a big deal but Ty knew he was hurting. He could tell.

Ty traced a pattern across Kit's arm. "Honestly it was nothing," he assured him. "I just-." Ty stared at Kit, studying his face. The curve of his lips, the adorable blush of his cheeks and the tiny beauty mark under his eye that Ty loved to fixate on. Everything ached, but it was a good kind of ache.

Ty loved him.

"I just want to stay like this forever," he murmered. "Here with you, where I feel safe and warm. And loved." Ty nuzzled his nose against Kit's. "I want to be with you forever."

Kit smiled distantly before breaking into a slight frown. "Then why don't you wanna marry me?" He asked sadly. And Ty could instantly hear the old ghosts of self loathing and insecurity still haunting Kit's thoughts.

Ty sighed. "It has nothing to do with you I promise. I just really don't want to get married and I'm not even fully certain of why exactly."

Kit stroked his cheek slowly. "Is it the idea of a big wedding? Because we don't have to do that you know. We can totally just skip it," he said assuredly.

Ty shook his head. "That's part of it but it isn't the only reason." He paused to contemplate what exactly it was that was making him feel this way, feel so afraid.

Strangely enough, Ty kept coming back to his mother. His mother who was always a little peculiar in private. Who always seemed sad and exhausted even before the silent brothers diagnosed her. Who was constantly going along with whatever her husband wanted for whatever reason. Because she assumed he knew what he was doing? Because she didn't want to make waves in a society so rigid and obsessed with conformity?

Ty had been considering it more and more lately.

He sat up, displacing Kit from where he was resting. "I think my mother was like me," Ty admitted in a shakey voice. "I think she was autistic and that's why she ended up in the situations she did."

"Ok?" Kit looked confused. "But that still doesn't explain-."

Ty interrupted him. "She was trying so hard to fit in and do the right thing and she would just let him control her. She kept compromising for him because she thought that's what she was supposed to do and also because despite it all I think she really loved him! And it made her so stupid!" Ty shouted.

"I just don't want to become trapped like that," he confessed.

Kit was silent for a moment, just staring at him with a puzzled expression. "Ok, but Ty you realize that I'm not your dad right? Like I would never try and control you or make you into something you're not. I'm not trying to own you, I'm trying to love you!" He argued. "Ty, marriage isnt supposed to trap you. It's about making our relationship into an Offical legal thing that everyone's forced to acknowledge and accept."

Kit took Ty's hand in his. "It's about making each other family."

Ty looked away. He couldn't meet Kit's eyes when he was staring at him looking so hopeful and desperate. It did strange things to Ty's insides. He squeezed his eyes shut, scrunching up his face along with his fists for a moment before letting go.

"I just don't want to let someone have power over me in that way," he explained. Kit sighed, then smiled softly before leaning forward to rest his forehead against Ty's. Ty let out a little moan as he let the tension release from his body with a sigh. Kit placed his hand over Ty's heart.

"But don't you get it Ty?" He asked softly. "You already have, whether you meant to or not. I'm in your system sweetheart, in your blood just like you're in mine." Ty felt him smile. "Like we were made for each other. Like we've spent our entire lives waiting for each other."

Ty pulled away from him. "No I don't believe that," he stated firmly. "I don't believe in fate or destiny or soulmates. I think it's an overt  romanticization of life and the human condition which can have disastrous consequences. It leads people to believe that they are somehow incomplete without a romantic partner which is incredibly problematic." Ty realized he was probably going on a bit of a tangent as he was known to do. But he couldn't be bothered to care.

Kit pouted a little. "Yeah I get that. But I don't know. I like to romanticize things in life. After everything that I've been through, I guess it just makes things feel better you know?" Kit glanced at him hopefully."I don't care if you don't believe in any of those things. I do. And despite what you might believe, you aren't always right about everything," Kit said pointedly.

Ty scowled at him. Kit was undeterred. "And I get that you're coming at this from a scary trauma place. I understand that. I have those too. But you don't have to be afraid of me," he pleaded.

Ty couldn't resist reaching out and touching him, pushing a curly lock of hair behind his ear. "Can I maybe think about it?" Kit smiled and snuggled up against Ty's chest again. "Of course," he murmered. Ty leaned back and resumed his earlier position, staring up at the sky.

He nuzzled his face against Kit's hair. "I'm glad you're not mad at me anymore," said Ty.

Kit snorted, turning to face Ty. "I'm never mad at you love. It's pretty much impossible." Ty grinned and leaned forward to kiss him slowly, savoring the feeling of Kit's lips against his.

Kit broke off and kissed Ty's cheek, then his orbital bone. Ty giggled and closed his eyes which prompted Kit to place a kiss on each of his eyelids.

"I love every inch of you," Kit whispered. Ty couldn't speak. He was too overwhelmed. He just wrapped his arms around Kit even tighter and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

They lay in peaceful silence for several moments before Kit spoke.

"Tell me a story."

In case you missed it, the story Eleanor was telling Ty is the story of kitty in Lady Midnight basically. Also. Not me projecting my fear of marriage onto my comfort character! 😂

Tag list: (lmk if you wanna be added/removed) @playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @knifescythe @ti-bae-rius @dianasarrow @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies @zfoxdraws @julieandthefandoms @older-brother-kit @ilikebooks8 @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @heloisacosta23 @adoravel-fenomeno @eutonyinwhisper

#tsc #tda #the dark artifices #kit x ty #twp #cw mentions of ableism #cw mentions of abuse #cw minor character death #tiberius nero blackthorn #kit herondale #eleanor blackthorn

[atlasmisery]

brother nier in relation to the events of the aerie and junkheap

(as of writing, i have not completed the entirety of nier: replicant. where i am at now is around the beginning-middle end of the storyline before the first ending.)

brother nier is an interesting protagonist so far, and shows signs of the classic tragic hero. in a well-meaning attempt to accomplish a good-natured goal (to cure his sister’s illness), he ends up walking a much bloodier and darker path than he intended. nier’s ‘timeskip’ very much emphasizes this, showing us nier in his purer days as a youth as opposed to his currently revenge-addled and unstable self.

the thing is with nier is that, while he’s certainly a kind-hearted person who helps those in need, everyone is all but secondary to the ‘few people he loves most’. this, of course, is obviously yonah, but this also extends to kaine, weiss and emil. he fixates on these people, and in certain points in the story, faces little hesitation in regards to sacrificing other people for them. it’s an incredibly interesting contradiction in his demeanor... but the consequences of sort of thing requires intense writing to be able to portray ‘properly’ and ‘gut-wrenchingly’. 

of course, leave it up to no other than yoko taro to be able to portray nier’s contradiction wonderfully. there are two instances in the story that highlight this.

the fall of the aerie:

here, nier’s ‘fixation’ on saving ‘the few people he loves’ becomes very, very apparent. in this point of the story, he, in his quest to defeat shades, basically obliterates an entire village of people.

the aerie, in the story, was not very welcoming or ‘loveable’ of an area as opposed to the others. it’s loss, while not heavy on the heart, still makes an impact. it was the village with the most tightly-knit ‘character’, i feel. facade, seafront and nier’s village all have varieties of people, but aerie was the one with the incredibly rude shut-ins. and this was consistent between all the villagers. as frustrating as they were, it’s not like they deserved to die... is probably the thought that comes to mind.

now, as for nier himself:

Emil: I killed innocent people. I killed them all. Nier: But you saved us.

the scene at the end of the aerie’s fall tells it all. emil, heartbroken, and maybe the audience perspective, is mourning the loss of villager lives. he’s in agony and, even if you can’t see a human expression, you can tell with his wavering voice he deeply regrets what he did. this is shown in contrast to nier, who’s expression changes little. he’s only focused on comforting the distressed emil, and seemingly doesn’t feel much in regards to the lost lives.

in fact, he says something incredibly cold, and telling, of what he thinks of what took place, and where he’s heading from now on.

Nier: Really. Don’t look back.

nier kills, and kills, and kills, and doesn’t look back. he thinks, he doesn’t need to, he has to keep looking forward, he needs to keep his eyes on yonah and her whereabouts. if not, she might slip away, therefore, he can’t afford to look back.

but what if he did look back? what will he see? a trail of blood and corpses, all of his own making? would he feel anything, anything at all upon seeing such a thing?

gideon’s revenge:

the first thing we are shown in this section of the story is jakob’s demise, and gideon’s change. the boy lost both his mother and brother to the junk heap, and we’re shown him teetering on madness in regards to his fixation with revenge. he wants the robot responsible for his brother’s death dead at all costs, working on forging weapons for years in an attempt to make a sword that can bring it down.

Gideon: I need to ask you for a favor. Nier: Oh yeah? Gideon: I want you to avenge my brother! Grimoire Weiss: That’s a rather ponderous mission. Gideon: It’s my mission! It’s the whole reason I’ve been creating these weapons for the past four years. Gideon: I don’t care about money! I only care about making a weapon strong enough to kill those bastards!

sounds familiar? well, i’d think that’s the intention. gideon’s state and his vengeance is an obvious allusion to nier’s own quest for yonah. while she’s (probably) not dead, he is going on his own personal cruel rampage for it. having done the forest of myth quest before this one, the allusions just feel even more obvious.

Weiss: It spoke! This Shade has intelligence! And emotion! Nier: Who cares? Nier brushes Weiss' comment aside has his sword sliced through the Shade's right arm.

both nier and gideon expressed they don’t care, not as long as they can accomplish their goal. they’re both full of rage over the loss of their own sibling, and seem to teeter on madness in their own quests... but.

Gideon: You stupid machine! You killed my family! You took everything from me! Nier: Hey, come on. That’s enough. Gideon: Aaah ha ha! I did it! Now that this goddamn thing is dead, I can forage wherever I want! Gideon: Just wait, you goddamn freak! Now I can make all KINDS of powerful weapons! Gideon: Just leave it to me! Leave it all to me! HA HA HA HA HA! AAAH HA HA HA HAAAAAH! Nier: Look, we get it, okay? Really...

this scene does invoke a sense of ‘wow, this reminds me of what nier is like when he’s killing shades’, but what’s surprising... is how nier reacts. he’s disturbed. in jakob, he starts to see himself, and feels an inch of hesitation in his actions and what he’s become. for a moment, he’s tempted to not look forward, but to look back.

Grimoire Weiss: Hatred and Madness will never heal a wounded heart. Nier: Maybe it’s just all that he’s capable of right now. Grimoire Weiss: Revenge is a fool’s errand.  Nier: ...Yeah. I know.

when he says, ‘maybe it’s just all that he’s capable of now’, you can tell nier feels a sense of empathy for the poor boy. he understands. nier, who had spent five years hunting shades for his lost sister, can see himself in the boy who spent four years forging swords to avenge his brother. and, another thing he sees, is a distorted image of himself. a broken revenge-hungry madman, someone he hesitates to become, but is well on the path to becoming to. recognizing this terrifies him.

the aerie and jakob— what do these two tell of nier’s mental landscape?

he, despite seemingly being a kind helpful person, has a tendency to over-prioritize those much closer to him. this was on a smaller level when he was younger, but it only developed and became worse throughout the timeskip. it’s gotten bad enough that he can close his eyes and look away from an entire village he killed, but he isn’t so far off yet. a smidge of his former self still remains, and that self is afraid upon seeing what gideon had become. gideon represents what nier may become once his former self fully disappears. and, to nier, to become a broken revenge-hungry madman, is something even he feels troubled thinking about... but for yonah, he’s willing to do anything, right? so will he take a moment to look back, or keep looking forward?

we’ll find out soon enough.

#nier: replicant #drakenier #brother nier #nier

[saphirered]

Hello! What do you think it would be like if Essek had a fire genasi S/o, like they're normal really calm and collected unlike most fire genasi but the times they do get really general angry it's like watching a volcano erupt! (Maybe they got angry cause Essek got hurt by someone?) Thank you!

Essek is so caught up in his work he doesn’t even hear you enter his laboratory. Papers are strewn about, books opened, some flat, some propped agains anything and everything for better readability. The sound of the metal nib of a fine pen moving across paper, the only constant in the room besides the occasional mutter to himself.

You knock on the door. No response. You call out his name. Nothing. You think whatever Essek’s working on must be very important to have him be so unaware of his surroundings. You notice Essek’s in his robe, shoes and a shirt given the mostly exposed lower arms. Did he not get dressed in the morning? Or did he simply never go to sleep? You’re not sure. Could be both. Could be either.

Since he’s not responding you simply approach. You place a hand on his shoulder, slide it down over his chest as you kiss his temple. You look over the pages out in front of him as he slowly becomes aware of your presence, leaning into your kiss.

“What are you up to?” You ask softly recognising some of the spells as the schematics of healing magic and to a lesser extend regeneration. Essek must have noticed your confusion as he quickly pulls from your grasp, begins to gather the papers and pile them together, closing the books as he goes.

“Nothing of importance. I did not hear you enter.” Essek gets up leaning against the desk and faces you with a smile reaching for you and pulling you closer to the point you no longer have visual on any of the papers and books. He’s definitely hiding something.

“I knocked, and called your name. You seemed to be pretty caught up in whatever you were working on.” You try to look past him but the moment you do his hand finds its way to your cheek brushing his thumb over it lovingly.

“My apologies. Shall we go somewhere else? I think I’ve been crammed up in this study long enough for today. Perhaps some fresh air will suit us both?” Essek suggest with a somewhat nervous laugh. You smile back at him and give him a kiss. If he’s not going to talk, you’ll find out yourself and you’re prepared to use whatever you can to get to the bottom of this.

Reaching for the stack of papers behind him once they are securely in your grasp you break the kiss taking several steps back and leaf through the notes before he can get to you. So not just healing magic… herbology, physiology and anatomy, manual healing, treating injuries, medicine, recipes for concoctions, ointments and potions to cure anything from bruises to broken bones, wounds and burns.

“Why the sudden interest in the art of healing?” You frown as the pages are snatched from your grasp and the drow holds them behind his back with an unreadable expression, head held high; the same one he uses whenever he’s dealing with any kind of official and none casual business.

“A sudden interest. I found myself with time to spare and decided to spend it learning until your return. And since you’re here, there’s no need to continue.” You notice the nervous smile break through again leaving you more leery of Essek. If he’s gonna play this game you’ll play along but last you remembered chess is a two player game and you’re not about to be tricked into making a certain move by the wizard.

“You misunderstand. I’m not judging your ‘sudden interest’ nor questioning your reasonings for wishing to study healing. However, last I remember you were the one to tell me healing magic is not exactly within your capabilities. I’m just curious.” You take a step closer to Essek and he steps back. You take another and close enough to the desk he puts the stack of paper back where it was before he steps back in towards you.

“There are some very capable healers among my friends and you are an exceptional one. I simply wish to learn the deeper meanings to the abilities they have at their fingertips and gain a better understanding of it.” You smile at him innocently. Such a liar. Such. A. Liar. Half truth if we’re being technical but deception nonetheless.

“Well then, I would leave you to your studies but I have missed you, Essek.” You kiss his cheek snaking one arm around his waist. You can see the panic in his eyes. Normally he’d happily indulge, return your affections without even a second of doubt. He pulls the robe around his torso a little closer as your free hand dances up his chest and over his shoulder.

The moment you reach his shoulder he grits his teeth, jaw tightening holding back a a whimper or a gasp as his entire posture freezes up. You quickly remove your hand and look at him worried. Essek gives you a look of defeat as you put a bit more space between the two of you, allowing you to move freely.

“Essek…” You all but threaten as you reach for the neckline of the robe. He has half the mind to stop you but refrains from doing so with a sigh as you push the fabric aside.

His shoulder and upper arm seem very much bruised, the bone slightly out of place. Seeing it continues over the top of his shoulder you turn him around inspecting his back too. Two deep cuts, luckily no longer bleeding mare the back of his shoulder. The injuries agitated, left untreated. Essek sighs deeply as you gasp at the sight.

“What happened?” You go over the outline of the open wounds, careful not to touch.

“Let’s just say the Martinet Daleth did not appreciate my comments on his personal relations very much.” Essek grits his teeth as you accidentally brush over a particularly painful area. You bite your lower lip keeping yourself from making a snarky remark but can’t prevent yourself from feeling the threads of control slip. How could he have done something so stupid? He’s aware how powerful those people are, not only that, in the position he is in, being less than friendly will not do him well in any circumstance when he doesn’t have any leverage anymore.

“Have you gone mad?!” That may have come out a little less… calm than you had hoped it would. Deciding to focus on the now and not all the things you may want to say, shout or scream, or actions you may want to take, you instead focus on healing the worst. You make sure the wounds are clean before they close up, reset the bone in the right position and allow the bruises to fade.

As your magic sets in and begins to work its wonders Essek lets out a breath of relief, rubbing at his priorly injured shoulder testing its movability. Nothing remains of the injuries and you’re able to contain the fire feel burning within your chest and throat. You take a few deep breaths as Essek thanks you.

Brushing Essek off, knowing the way well enough, you head for the component pantry. Essek follows behind you calling after you but out of fear of blowing up in his face you keep going and ignore him. You go over the shelves grabbing jars and vials as you go. You had to channel your anger somewhere so if this was going to be it, then so it be.

You had worked very hard to keep your own fury contained when it arose. You’re usually calm and collected even in the most dire of situations, but when someone comes for your friends, let alone lover, you will put the burning fires of the Nine Hells to shame, living up to the ‘hell hath no fury’ expression. It’s also a side you prefer to keep away from your loved ones if it can be avoided.

Normally a few deep breaths, counting to ten and another few deep breaths would do. In the rare cases that didn’t work you’d try occupying yourself with something else entirely. But now… you’re slipping. You can feel the rage burning within, so to the components you turn.

You pick up another vial inspecting it and Essek interrupts placing himself between you and your already gathered components.

“I don’t know what you’re planning but please, don’t do anything you’ll come to regret.” Essek practically begs. He takes the vial from your hand but drops it immediately, hissing in pain. The vial shatters as he waves his hand as if to cool it down. You push past him, gather the components and throw them into a sack as you leave the pantry. Essek quickly follows behind still clutching his hand to cool it down.

“Where are you going?” You stop, put on the most composed look you can and turn around to face him.

“I’m going to murder the leader of an infamous order of magic users. Now if you will excuse me, enjoy the rest of your day.” Words like poison. No more anger, just pure unrestrained hatred. You turn back around and continue your way towards the front door. You clench your fists feeling the burning heat gather within your palms.

“Don’t do anything stupid! You’ll get yourself killed!” Essek shouts after you but you keep walking. He calls your name. “Do not do anything stupid!” He repeats. You stop in your tracks feeling as if something inside of you just snaps. The last thread of your composure perhaps.

“Don’t do anything stupid? Anything stupid he says!” You throw your hands in the air.

“Like how you didn’t do anything completely and utterly stupid when you did what you did? How you lied to so many people, were the one responsible for so many terrible things. Or how you made choices ignoring the consequences of your actions?” You shout back, the ground beneath your feet’s temperature starts rising to the point where you are scorching the fine carpet beneath. Admittedly, your words are a low blow.

“You know what I meant!” Essek retorts getting closer to you, his frustrations also clear.

“Oh, I know what you meant but let’s no longer pretend you’re the only one you care about suffering from the consequences of your actions. Can you for just a moment just open your eyes and realise you have so many people around you who love you and would go to the ends of the earth for you. Can you just understand that when someone hurts you and threatens your livelihood, your life, that maybe that doesn’t sit well with me?” Unclenching your fists embers drift to the floor leaving more holes in the carpet.

“Why do you have to be so stupid!” Scorching heat radiates in the hallway as a brief rush of flame passes through the space like burning oil. Essek is quick enough to float and avoid the fire, but you watch it spread.

Essek’s face softens as he quickly puts the fire out. He goes to place his hand on your arm but feeling the heat of your skin before even making contact, he’s forced to refrain and his hand falls back to the side. He’s never seen you quite so driven by hatred and anger. It scares him in a way. He’s not afraid of you. He trusts you. But he is afraid that letting you go off on your own so driven by those negative emotions, allowing them to fester and grow, will not do anyone good, least of all you. He worries for your wellbeing, just like you have for his plenty of times before.

“I know I may have a hard time coming to terms with others’ affections towards me and may have made some stupid decisions but I beg of you, please, do not walk into a lions’ den unprepared carrying bait around your neck.” While the fury still burns in your eyes and your skin is still much hotter to the touch than it should be Essek is able to grasp your hand without burning himself.

“I must ask you to refrain from brutally murdering the Martinet… for now. His time will come, just as those who are loyal to him. Just not yet.” Essek strokes your cheek as your eyes soften, expression saddening.

“They hurt you still.” The words come out almost like a cry of frustration and sadness. Whether that be because of what had happened to Essek or from losing control like that you’re not one hundred percent sure but you guess the latter.

“They did, and I assume they will be a thorn in my side just a bit longer but, if that means I’ll have you at my side to eventually deal with them, I feel more comfortable for it, no matter how much I would love to see you set their pretentious ship ablaze, in retaliation, you yourself said, calculated moves are a necessity, especially now.” Essek had already made his peace with this, he only hopes you would see the same. Wrapping your arms around him hiding your face in his chest you compose yourself in a silent thank you as he returns your embrace, holding you until you pull back enough to see his face.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper looking at the scorch marks all over. “I didn’t mean to… I never-”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Everyone breaks at some point. You’ve been there for me plenty of times. I’m glad I get to return the favour, regardless of the circumstances.” Essek looks around already mentally making a list of what to get replaced and what to get repaired.

“You can be quite intimidating in your fury.” He smiles at you and you raise an eyebrow.

“I guess…” You feel regretful for the damages done.

“I might have use for that in the future if you’d be willing.” You give Essek a look of disapproval.

“What? I would love to see you do this, in some other places with less than friendly people, who you’ve already deemed deserving of your wrath.” Essek laughs.

“So I can repay you for this? I can do that. But only in the most dire situations.” You poke an accusing finger at his chest laughing with him. You give him quick kiss.

“At least it was not my library, or the study.” Essek sighs as you gawk and swat his arm jokingly.

“Rude! But yes. Because I can see you being the one in a fiery rage should anyone ever damage your precious books.”

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #critical role #mighty nein x reader #essek x reader #essek thelyss x reader #mighty nein

[sk1fanfiction]

the many faces of tom riddle, part 1

-no hate (this is merely my humble opinion) but i strongly dislike tom hughes as tom riddle, and here’s why-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

Just personally, this fancast induces a lot of cognitive dissonance for me, but this is the first time I’ve been able to sit down and articulate properly why it always throws me for a loop.

Now, does he fit the visual/aesthetic archetype?

Yes. I understand completely why people like this fancast. We know that he is studious, intellectual, and (at the time people generally fancast him for) involved in the criminal underground, and he more-or-less fits the physical description.

And, to be clear, it’s not that I don’t think Tom Hughes could play Tom Riddle, it’s that I don’t think the character he plays in the fancasts is a close enough approximation of Tom Riddle.

For me, herein lies the issue.

Tom Riddle’s character is all about the emotions bubbling under the surface. He’s a disaster waiting to happen -- he’s angry, he’s lonely, he wants revenge, he feels empty and hopeless and desperate, he’s irrational...

Not sure what movie/show the Tom Hughes clips come from, but the character he plays isn’t that at all. the character he plays is very self-possessed, poised, self-aware. Reflective. Remorseful (there are clips of him crying when/after he shoots someone). Introspective. 

That, to me, is not Tom Riddle at all. 

Yes, he does deal with moral conflict, but it’s never at the forefront of his mind. It’s not something he’s constantly grappling with. He doesn’t really... brood in this Hamlet-esque way.

Tom doesn’t think. Sure, he plans, he ruminates, he rationalizes a posteriori. But he’s very unaware of himself (in fact, it’s one of his fatal flaws). It’s not that he doesn’t have emotions; just that his internal state is a mystery most of the time.

He doesn’t connect with his own emotions; he is completely estranged from them. Tom cannot tell you whether he is happy or sad (not just because of his pride). He keeps his emotions and moral compass (which are highly uncomfortable things), in a locked little box, swallows the key, and disregards them. And yet, this character connects so deeply with his emotions that even the audience can see exactly what he’s going through. 

(There’s an openness -- an ease of vulnerability -- that Tom Riddle doesn’t have)

The thing about Tom, is that he hates himself just as much as he hates everyone around him. Creating Horcruxes to save himself from death is not an act of self-love, or even narcissism to the extreme; instead, forcibly ripping your own soul seven times is the most literally and metaphorically self-destructive thing a person could possibly do.

"Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction —"

If we go all the way back to Book 1, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, you’ll remember that the eponymous material (first described in the Epic of Gilgamesh) is capable of producing the Elixir of Life, a magical substance that makes its drinker immortal, as long as you have a steady supply. Not only that, but according to the beliefs of historical alchemists (such as Nicholas Flamel), it was capable of curing any disease. In the alchemical tradition, it symbolized perfection, enlightenment, and heavenly bliss.

If all Tom Riddle was concerned about was prolonging his life, this is the obvious (and better) option.

Here’s the alchemical symbol of the Philosopher’s Stone. Looks kind of like the Deathly Hallows symbol, right? It represents the interplay of the (at the time, believed) four elements of matter -- a sort of periodic table, if you will.

The mature Philosopher’s Stone was believed to be a red stone (for making gold), and the immature one a white stone (for making silver). Rubeus Hagrid and Albus Dumbledore, anyone??

"So he's made himself impossible to kill by murdering other people?" said Harry. "Why couldn't he make a Sorcerer's Stone, or steal one, if he was so interested in immortality?"

And Dumbledore responds:

"But there are several reasons why, I think, a Sorcerer's Stone would appeal less than Horcruxes to Lord Voldemort.”

"While the Elixir of Life does indeed extend life, it must be drunk regularly, for all eternity, if the drinker is to maintain the immortality. Therefore, Voldemort would be entirely dependent on the Elixir, and if it ran out, or was contaminated, or if the Stone was stolen, he would die just like any other man. Voldemort likes to operate alone, remember. I believe that he would have found the thought of being dependent, even on the Elixir, intolerable...”

And while, yes, he did try to steal it rather than make it, I am sure that in the time it took Tom to make all of his Horcruxes, he could have learned enough alchemy to produce it for himself (or wheedled the information out of Nicholas Flamel). While Dumbledore hypothesizes that it’s because Tom hates feeling dependent, this must be irony, because he spends the first book as a literal parasite, the next three as a virtually helpless creature, and the remainder still reliant on his Horcruxes.

"Well, you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

But, like me, Dumbledore is making guesses at Tom Riddle’s internal state, and in this case, I think, he’s made an oversight. Horcruxes make him equally as dependent as the Philosopher’s Stone would have. It’s been established in canon that you cannot make yourself immortal without help; either you rely on the continued existence of your Horcruxes or your supply of the Elixir.

And while the Elixir represents the positive aspects of eternal life, like renewal, rebirth, and the cyclical nature of the universe (see above the ouroboros of Cleopatra the Alchemist, one of the four women who knew how to make the philosopher's stone), a Horcrux is antithetical to life. It represents disorder, and once the creator of Horcruxes dies, they are unable to move on from Limbo -- shut out of the cycle. Harry describes Tom’s mangled soul as looking like a flayed and mutilated baby -- permanently immature and stagnant.

This theme of destruction is furthered by the Golden Trio’s discussion on how to reverse the process:

Ron: "Isn't there any way of putting yourself back together?"

Hermione: "Yes, but it would be excruciatingly painful."

Harry: "Why? How do you do it?"

Hermione: "Remorse. You've got to really feel what you've done. There’s a footnote. Apparently the pain of it can destroy you. I can’t see Voldemort attempting it somehow, can you?"

With this in mind, we can surmise that Tom is either (a) impatient, which we know he is not (b) there was some deeper reason for favouring Horcruxes -- so, yes, I believe that either metaphorically or literally, this was self-harming behaviour.

He takes on the name of Lord Voldemort because he hates himself, Tom Marvolo Riddle. He hates the Muggle part of himself so much that he’s willing to tear apart his entire being. 

"Voldemort, is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter..."

If that isn’t renouncement of himself, I don’t know what is. He was clearly not born Voldemort.

While of course, this does NOT excuse ANY of his actions, I find it vastly implausible that the likes of Malfoy, Mulciber, Carrow, etc... would have been welcoming in any way, shape or form to an assumed ‘Mudblood’ in scruffy secondhand robes from a London orphanage, and as such, indoctrinated him into his fanatic belief in blood-purity via antagonizing him. 

(Imagine Hermione, but poor and without parents, in the 1930s/40s. She would not have been treated well in Slytherin, either.)

Children are more vicious than you think. And while Tom probably gave as good as he got at Wool’s Orphanage (and was possibly an active aggressor himself), Hogwarts wouldn’t have been a level playing-field. (I’ll talk a bit about this and the significance of the Gaunt Ring in Part 2).

In other terms, I think Tom was bullied for having dubious origins. That’s often the swiftest way to radicalize someone, and would have left Tom with a crippling sense of self-hatred that I don’t think he would have even picked up from the orphanage.

(And it’s possibly this early experience with relational aggression that results in his constant need to be on the offensive/defensive, distrust of others, and fear of vulnerability. To me, this is an archetypal response of someone who was a past victim of bullying.)

Why else would an extremely powerful half-blood subscribe so strongly to those beliefs? (Rather than discriminating via amount of raw power or something -- because what Tom is immensely proud of when Dumbledore meets him is his ability, not his parentage). But I digress.

Now, Tom Riddle is never, ever quietly menacing like this. The mask is either completely on or completely off. We never see this character angry. Tom Riddle, when the mask slips off, is fury incarnate. Anger is the one emotion he doesn’t find weak; the one emotion he’s completely and utterly honest with.

Besides, that brings me to my next point. Tom’s not quite so austere. In fact, he’s quite witty, and often quite pleased with himself.

Just look at the difference in their body language. Tom has much more fluidity (he’s circling Harry, the head-tilt, the eyebrows move and he smiles a bit) than the other character, who has so much tension. Yes, they’re both menacing, but in completely different ways. Tom is comfortable with his actions, no matter how shitty they are. This other guy doesn’t like doing what he’s doing, but he’s going to do it, anyway.

Contrasted with the above, Tom’s unawareness of himself is such that we end up with a character who has a bizarre mix of extreme self-hatred and high self-esteem -- he always believes he is in the right -- in this case, doing Salazar Slytherin’s noble work -- while going to extreme, self-destructive lengths, such as tearing himself in half at the mere age of sixteen.

So, sorry... I kind of get the appeal, but... I don’t like the fancast. 

(More unpopular opinions coming at 5:30 PM EDT tomorrow!)

#tom riddle #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #character analysis #character study #tom hughes #unpopular opinion #i am so getting cancelled #look i spent actual time trying to get those two gifs on the same line but it just wasn't happening #they line up if you make your window narrower #tw: mention of self-harm

[nsj-inamood]

Delenas so called happy ending?

So I’ve been wanting to talk about this for a while and I’ve been thinking about it. This is highly anti Delena so if you are part of that fandom, you might want to skip this one. If you watch tvd for pure entertainment and don’t delve into the characters then that is fineee. But tvd really caught me and I overanalyze too much on this show. Okay, so delena having a happy life being human baffles me. It boggles my mind the level of audacity the writers have to give Damon and Elena have a believable happy ending is absolute bullshit. I’m going go through a few reasons why I believe this. 

The first is Damons’ obsession with vampirism. From the literal first episode all we’ve seen is Damons vampirism being part of his whole essence. He relishes in it and uses it in absolutely every aspect of his life. He uses it for the simplest of tasks. And this is nothing against his use of vampirism in his everyday life. I think anyone would use it to their advantage, just not to the drastic extent Damon does. Fair warning, I’m trying to keep an open mind about Damon and who his character is as a whole, instead of my personal bias, which is... that I hate him with every ounce of me. Anyway... Damons’ whole appeal is bad boy vampire brother who uses his advantages to “take care” of the woman he loves. His knowledge and usefulness was solely based on his vampirism. That is the whole basis of the show. Throughout the entire show we see Damon entice others to revel in their vampirism. In season 1 we saw Damon constantly try to get Stefan to submit to his ripper side. Obviously we see Damon try to make Elena be a “true” vampire and feed on human blood, fresh from the vein under the influence of the sire bond. He loves his vampirism, and wants others to have it. Even Elena asked- practically begged- him to take the cure with her and be human together when they were looking for it. What I don’t get is how he changed his mind about that. He loves it and he constantly tells people that he isn't going to change, that this is who he is. I feel like that was the allure of Damon Salvatore for many of the viewers. Take that away, what do we have? 

That brings me to Elena. Elena is supposed to love Damon. Damon has clearly expressed his diastase for a lack of vampirism. He has always talked about how he wants to live forever and be more powerful than others. He loves the magnitude of power he gets from being a vampire. Elena knows this. This is where Damon and Elena differ. Obviously Damon and Elena have different views on life and I think this can be interesting for a relationship and it’s something that can be worked on, when it comes to the serious things. Personally I feel like their differences kind of meld into whatever Damon wants as their relationship progressed because - “oh, I love you!” It’s said in their infamous declaration of love. She has to “bend her morals” and all that to be with Damon. I don’t get how being human didn't adapt to this. With a relationship like Damon and Elena comes compromise. They should have figured something out to work with what they both wanted. This didn’t happen though. Elena has clearly expressed her love of humanity and wanting to live a human life. She showed it in 2x20. But then in the season 4 finale she says she didn't? But in season 7 she does? I'm not blaming Elena for her indecisiveness.  Her confusion is something I get. It’s something I've struggled it myself, but how she got to the conclusion fo living a human life with Damon that resulted in kids is so out of field it makes no sense. 

Back to Damon. How and I mean how in the world was Damon able to have have kids and be happy. Despite hating DE I would’ve understood- barely- but would’ve understood if Damon and Elena spent the rest of their mortal lives together. Probably fucking their way through the years but with the two of them nonetheless. Kids into the addition is so left field that I just cannot fathom how their “happy” lives could’ve gone. Damon doesn’t do well with people in general let alone children. How in the fucking world would Damon be a good father. We’ve seen him kill a pregnant woman and the way he handles Jeremy is evidently not great. He murders people because he and I quote “likes it”. Every little thing that doesn’t go his way is not great. With and without the aspects of vampirism, Damon Salvatore is an abuser. On all accounts, this is what he should be defined as. I will go into this another time, but Elena didn’t make him a better person. Elenas’ golden vagina and Katherine looking doppelgänger face really just made sure he was getting laid, as a character nothing changed. I cannot stress this enough but KIDS ARE NOT A REDEMPTION ARC FOR SHITTY PEOPLE. Kids don’t magically change people. Damon would still be an ass to everyone else except Elena. Even then- barely.  I wonder how he dealt with crying babies, intolerable children, negligent teenagers and allow them to live normal lives. I can assure you that therapy took a lot of their childs’ pocket.  

I just don't get how this dysfunctional relationship could work out and live a picture perfect life that was believable. 

So that was my rant, or deep dive into the DE happy ending. If you have read this far and you are a DE fan then I may have offended you and I’m sorry-ish. Don’t take it to heart. I am one of seven billion and my opinion won’t ever matter to you again. If you are in fact not a DE fan, I hope that helped you relate to my hatred and confusion. ;)

yay. catch you later. signing off

                         - nsj

#anti delena #anti tvd #dullena #anti dullena #anti damon salvatore #anti damon #anti elena #anti damon x elena #anti damon and elena

[appleteeth]

Bruce Week Fic #2

Tuesday (July 20): Trapped, Shield

They could tell they were in trouble, but nobody wanted to make the call to retreat. It was clear the building was unstable from the fight with a villain who enjoyed throwing photon beams their way, but they didn’t know just how bad. Tony’s suit was off the grid, so he didn’t have FRIDAY to warn him of the structural damage at the foundations. Their comms were emitting a sort of pathetic whine from yet more blasts that wiped out pretty much any communication above waving their hands frantically, so any Avengers out of the building couldn’t tell them just how much the building was swaying.

So they had exactly ten seconds to get the heck out of dodge when they heard the floors start to collapse underneath them.

Bruce waved them away, ready to go down with the ship, so to speak, so he could continue the fight with the supervillain without pause. Hulk had climbed out of much worse than thirty floors of steel and concrete. The team members who could fly or teleport grabbed anyone who couldn’t and crashed through the windows, and they had done this so many times, Bruce wasn’t even scared of the impending doom around him

HULK NOT BANNER’S LACKEY.

“What--” but the floor was collapsing and Bruce fell into darkness before he could finish.

He immediately knew this wasn’t like the other times. He wasn’t waking up from having transformed and having helped save the day. Instead, he was waking up in enough pain to know he was in trouble.

He took a deep breath before he tried to move anything, and found his left arm was either broken or felt like it was, his right was trapped under heavy rubble and his right leg was impaled on a large metal pole. He knew he was bleeding in various places as the concrete beneath him felt wet but in his current state, he couldn’t do a thing about it.

BANNER EXPECT HULK TO HELP HIM NO MATTER WHAT.

The sound of Hulk in his head was so much louder when he had a head injury. It felt like he was screaming out into the world, and for a moment Bruce couldn’t hear anything else.

“Hulk… could you pick your moments a little better?” he asked with a hacking cough in replace of a laugh.

NOT FUNNY. BANNER DON’T APPRECIATE HULK.

“It’s hard to appreciate… ow… you when you’re refusing to help me right now.”

BANNER NEED TO LEARN TO APPRECIATE WHAT HULK DOES FOR HIM.

“I do! When do I not?”

BANNER HATE HULK.

Banner sighed and closed his eyes in desperation. Why couldn’t Hulk have had this argument with him when he wasn’t slowly dying? Why couldn’t he have screamed at him this morning, before the supervillain decided to destroy a whole city block?

“I don’t… hate you.”

Even he wasn’t convinced by his words.

“Okay, maybe I do."

Hulk snorted in agreement. That angered Bruce and if he could throw his hands up in surrender, he would have.

"I’m sorry, no, I do. I never wanted this life. I wanted to be a scientist, I wanted to marry Betty, I wanted kids. I wanted a normal damn life with the height of excitement being getting to go to conferences in different countries.”

Hulk didn’t answer this time, so he continued.

“And instead… I lost it all. I had to run for years, hoping my own goddamned government didn’t catch up with me and experiment on me, or worse, turn me into Patient Zero as hundreds of others become what I am. I had to abandon everything. And even now, when I’m supposed to be part of this incredible team, I'm still nothing more than your handler. And all because I’m not allowed to keep even the clothes on my fucking back when I so much as trip over a damn curb.

“So yeah, I don’t appreciate you. I hate what I’ve become and I can’t help but blame you for it.”

There was silence once more and Bruce just listened to the faraway sounds of rubble still moving and things still crashing through what was left of the floors.

Hulk saved Banner. Banner would have died when Hulk appeared. Wouldn’t’ve got the life he wanted anyway.

And boy, he couldn’t argue with that.

Hulk always in Banner. Gamma only made me real. Hulk with Banner when Banner was kid, getting beat up by dad.

“Bullshit,” Bruce rasped, although he felt his defences were slowly collapsing like the building around him.

It’s true. Banner too smart for dad. Banner tried to be good kid but dad hated him. Hated us. Killed mom and said it was our fault.

A sob escaped Bruce’s lips before he could try to stop it.

Hulk always been there for Banner. Hulk always saving Banner.

And it all came flooding back. The blackouts as a kid and waking up to see his bedroom in disarray, like a beast had torn everything to shreds. It was his only way of coping with the abuse. His only way to gain some sort of control when he felt so helpless. His counsellors said he acted like he was a completely different person, but Bruce didn't remember anything that he did. He wasn't sure he even believed them.

And then, when his dad died, when he finally got away from the misery that was his life, he assumed he was cured. How stupid had he been?

He had buried so much of his past, hated who he was even when he was too young to even process hatred. He suppressed everything because that way he might stop the pain. And that had created the creature he now shared a life with.

Banner needed Hulk, Hulk said, much gentler this time, knowing everything Bruce was thinking, feeling everything he was feeling. Banner always need Hulk.

“You… saved me," he finally replied weakly.

Still do.

“Is this why you wanted to bring this up now? When I’m trapped and can’t refuse to listen to you?”

Banner stubborn. Like Hulk.

“That’s fair.” he sighed and wished he could wipe the tears falling down his face. “I’m sorry. You saved my life. You keep saving my life. And you’re a hero.”

Banner hero too.

He was surprised by that. He always assumed Hulk thought of himself as the hero between them. And then he realised something else.

“I always thought you hated me.”

Resent, not hate. Never hate.

“What can I do to help you? To show you I don’t hate you?”

Let me out when not angry. Let Hulk feel something more than anger.

Bruce nodded feverishly, his vision starting to blur and his body going numb.

And let Hulk eat ice-cream.

He choked out a laugh as his body succumbed to his wounds and felt Hulk envelop his mind, releasing him from his pain and healing him. Saving him yet again.

#bruceweek2021 #bruceweek #just a little therapy with your alter no biggie #bruce banner #hulk

[theonceandfutureking6481]

BBC's Merlin Season 1 Episode 4: The Poisoned Chalice Analysis

This is one of my favourite episodes, in this season, mainly for Merlin and Arthur. They are wonderful in this episode, and this is the first episode where you really see them starting to truly care about each other. This is a show fundamentally about love and the relationships between every character, and Merlin and Arthur are at the core of the show. Everyone in this episode though is so brave, and I admire them all so much. I talk a lot about a lot of different elements of Merlin on here but what I really love about this show is how much the characters inspire me, how much I admire them because I'm not sure I could ever be as brave as these characters, but I'd like to be.

Merlin's courage

There's not much in detail I can say about this but Merlin is so brave at the start of this episode. To burst into the king's hall and publicly accuse another king of attempting to poison Arthur. It's funny but one of the parts of Merlin's courage I most admire isn't his bravery to die for Arthur, it's his willingness to speak out when somethings wrong, his willingness to publicly embarrass himself, his willingness to be brave even when he could be wrong. It's a reachable form of courage, I don't think any of us frequently (or ever) have the opportunity to die for others, but in many ways the fact that we could all be as brave as Merlin in this way, that's what makes it feel so much more unattainable and thus more admirable.

The bigger courage though really is when Merlin drinks from the goblet, honestly even though Uther made him, Arthur probably would have drunk it but Merlin didn't let him. Merlin knew he would die if he drunk from that goblet, because he believed Nimueh to be telling the truth (which she was), but (as Arthur says) "he did it anyway." To meet death so willingly, it's not like jumping in front of someone in the moment in a battle, he had to make the choice to drink that poison because he is willing to sacrifice his life for Arthur's. And it hasn't got anything to do with destiny yet, he cares about Arthur, Arthur's his friend and Merlin's a good person. It's just a very noble moment for Merlin, Uther was making him but at the same time you could see Merlin choosing to drink from it, that's a choice and that was incredibly noble.

Arthur and Uther

There is tension between Arthur and Uther in this episode, between their views on the world and honour. It is, I think essentially summed up in.

Arthur: Because his life's worthless?

Uther: No, because its worth less than yours.

It's funny, you can see Uther's perspective here. He is right about one thing, Arthur is the future king, even if he's not inherently worth more than Merlin the stability of the kingdom rests on a secure succession and Arthur is Uther's only heir, there is more at stake here.

But Arthur's also right, a world in which any single person's life is protected more than others because of their social position is not a good place. It is not something Arthur believes in, but in Uther's world its just a given, it's not even a question that people ask.

Uther: This boy wont be the last to die on your behalf

Arthur: I can't accept that

Arthur never accepts this inevitability, he always seeks to risk his life first before any one else's and people follow him because of that, people (even his enemies) see the nobility in him because of that. His refusal to accept what to Uther appears to be an inevitability of kingship (Not a welcome one granted but one nonetheless) is what's going to make him a better king than Uther. As Morgana emphasises when she's persuading Arthur to go.

Morgana: And what sort of king would Camelot want? One that would risk his life to save that of a lowly servant, or one that does what his father tells him to?

Isn't this really just the point, Arthur will be a better king than his father because for him his right to rule is in some way always premised on his fulfilment of what he sees as right. Arthur is always trying to prove himself, especially in the early seasons. In Season 2 Episode 2: The Once and Future Queen when Arthur is fighting in a tournament under an alias so people don't know its him (and they will hopefully not let him win), you really see this.

Gwen: You have nothing to prove, least of all to me.

Arthur: I have everything to prove, to myself.

This is the fundamental point, Arthur is always trying to prove himself often to his father or others but always primarily to himself. Because he needs to prove to himself that he can rule Camelot, that he is deserving of it, so for the fact that he's going to be king to hold any weight he needs to do what he thinks is right, because if he doesn't then what sort of king would he be anyway?

This ties I think into what I mentioned in the last episode about Merlin and the greater good. The idea that Merlin never really makes the choice to kill Morgana or Mordred, except for in a moment where it was Morgana or Arthur, where it was a certain in the moment choice. Yes, he reaches a point where he tries to let them die but this is different to outright murder, and I think perhaps a Merlin who would have killed them is not a the Merlin we know, it is not a Merlin that could have formed Camelot. Arthur and Merlin's goodness comes from always trying to do the right thing, whatever the sacrifice to themselves, and if they hadn't been those sort of people then there is no way they could have been people who made a better kingdom.

Gaius: Arthur may give you a hard time, but at heart he's a man of honour. Not many people would have risked what he did for a servant

Uther

Uther's interesting in this episode, he has one of his worst moments in the show, not the worst thing he's ever done but certainly one of the worst things we witness. He purposefully lets Merlin die, we could understand it when he wasn't letting Arthur go after him, but to try to destroy Merlin's only hope for a cure to teach his son a lesson, that is cruel and so wrong. This takes valuing Arthur's life more than Merlin's to a whole other level, he values Arthur's obeying of him more than he values Merlin's life.

This goes to another feature of Uther's character I was just thinking about. He constantly mistakes control for love. He seeks to control both his children, he wants them to obey him, and if they openly defy him or disagree with him he punishes them. But he does love them, probably more than he loves anything else. When Morgana stages a coup against him and tells him how much she hates him he is broken, and he literally never recovers he does love them that cannot be denied but he spends so much of his life mistaking his controlling them for an expression of his love. It is an expression of his fear, he is scared of being out of control as he was when his wife died. Magic can be dangerous but mostly it caused him great suffering (although really it was him), so he seeks to control it absolutely, there is no nuance there and this is how he behaves towards his children. Hate and fear are terrible things to be motivated by, and Uther shows that. His hate comes from his fear, and his cruelty comes from there as well.

One thing, Uther does accept his fault at the end of this episode. It's not really adequate but its better than nothing and in its own way shows that Uther is capable of character development, and the fact that he will fail to do it in the most important ways is sad. His moment when he says to Arthur that Nimueh "is evil", it is so clear he is talking more to himself than anyone else. Isn't that a sign of trying to persuade yourself, he has to tell himself that Nimueh's evil cause ultimately she was just doing what he asked, and if he doesn't villainise her absolutely than its his fault too.

The one moment that really does redeem Uther a little in this episode is when he tells Arthur that "You did the right thing... I'm proud of you Arthur, never forget that." The last comment is telling, Uther knows he's not the best father, he knows that Arthur probably doesn't realise that Uther is proud of him. So the 'never forget that' is a reminder, I think, for when Uther inevitably forgets that himself. It is a reminder, for us, in its own way that Uther is trying to be a good father, and at least in this realm Uther realises that he very often fails.

Morgana

One interesting thing I noticed in this episode was how frustrated Morgana is with her life. I've never really noticed it before, but its in everything she says and does, even in the episodes before this. Even before she turns against Arthur and Uther and Camelot she is angry, not just at them, she's angry at her life. You can tell she feels like she doesn't have the power to do anything, like she's being controlled and perhaps like she isn't able to anything good or right because of Uther and her position, she feels pity for all the magic users but she is a part of the body that persecutes them. How do you reconcile that?

Morgana: Sometimes you have to do what you think is right and damn the consequences

There is so much frustration in that, and everything she says in this scene. I don't know exactly what this says about Morgana's character or her eventual place in the story but its interesting to note. Perhaps its to say her hatred of Uther and eventually Arthur isn't only because of her sympathy for magic users and eventually her own fear and feelings of being unloved but perhaps has its roots in her anger at this time, in Uther's control and her own powerlessness.

Merlin and Arthur

This is Merlin and Arthur's episode, so its kind of funny it took me so long to get to them, but there's really not that much to analyse in the wider scheme regarding them. They just are, and they are wonderful.

This is the episode where you see they do truly care about each other and they are truly good friends They risk their lives for each other with barely a second thought, and yes that is partially their own honour and decency but it is also fundamentally their care for each other that motivates them. You can tell when Merlin's thinking about destiny when he saves Arthur, it becomes such a huge part of his characterisation later on even though he loves Arthur more by that point he also admires him more so Arthur's destiny seems more important. Merlin doesn't really admire Arthur that much yet, he respects him and cares about him but the sheer admiration he will have for him comes later, and it is that admiration that makes him care even more about Arthur's destiny, because he believes in it far more. Right now though it is just their goodness and their friendship that motivates them.

The final moment between them though is beautiful. The moment when Arthur goes to Gaius' chambers just to check that Merlin's all right, even though he's obviously been told he is. He brushes it aside as usual, brushes how much he does actually care about what happens to Merlin (I mean Arthur did just go on a perilous quest that could have led to his death for him so I think Merlin gets it). But the moment at the end of that scene is lovely. There is just such mutual respect and recognition of each other and what they've done for each other, and the way they look at each other is just so wonderful.

Merlin: Thank you

Arthur: You too

Nimueh

One quick note about her. We will find out eventually what her motivations really are, that she's obviously not just evil. That she is angry at Uther and understandably so. And I wonder if in her there is a parallel for Uther I hadn't considered before. Both of them were involved in Igraine's death and Arthur's birth. And it was as a result of this action that Uther outlawed sorcery and began the great purge. She out of everyone knows best how hypocritical Uther really is. And in her own way, though it is obviously not her fault, it is her actions that set off the great purge. Uther made the choice to blame her and all magic but nonetheless it was a spell she cast that was the trigger, and I wonder if in her own way she feels guilty (just as Uther feels guilty about his wife's death) but like Uther she takes it out in anger rather than guilt. I'm not saying she should feel guilty, perhaps over Igraine's death but certainly not the great purge. However, she most probably does, and like Uther I think she's refusing to feel that guilt, and to avoid that guilt she chooses hatred and anger instead.

Bravery

Everyone in this episode though, is so brave. Gwen, Merlin, Arthur and Gaius all do risky, brave things that could get them killed, though maybe not killed in Gwen's case but certainly in huge trouble. Gwen sneaks into the dungeons and Gaius does magic. We will learn more about Gaius' character later but he is in many ways not a brave person, he is the sort who witnesses injustice and stays quiet, he's not brave. But he's brave here, he does magic, for Merlin, because he loves Merlin like a son. All the courage and bravery in this show comes from the love people have for others, and that's an important message, that the people we love and our own ability to love others can inspire us to be better people and to be brave.

Their immediate response to Merlin's apparent death moreover is guilty, they have nothing to feel guilty about, it's Uther's fault, but they blame themselves anyway. There is in that a contrast to Uther, who refuses to blame himself. They don't take their pain out in anger, they accept it and even though they have nothing to be guilty for the fact that their immediate response is guilt does say they are better people, braver people than Uther.

Other things

Morgana holding that butter knife ready to fight Bayard's men is the funniest thing ever. Like its an impressive butter knife, but it is still so clearly a butter knife.

Also so many bad guys plans in this show rely on Arthur or Merlin being fundamentally good people, like when your plan involves using people's goodness against them you need to re-evaluate your choices in life. I suppose its part of the point though- that they are willing to harm the innocent or take advantage of goodness in their anger. Uther punishes goodness in this episode.

My new motivational quote—> Gaius: "As the Old proverb says: Hard work breeds..........a harder soul." Merlin: "There is no way that's a proverb. You just made that up."

#merlin analysis #the adventures of merlin #bbc merlin #merlin #merlin bbc #arthurian retelling #arthur pendragon #arthur's character #merthur #morgana pendragon #gwen pendragon #bbc gwen #guinevere pendragon #bbc gaius #uther pendragon #analysis #character study #courage #nimueh #love and hate #friendship

[feysandandnyx]

You can say what you want, but Feyre will always be better than your sisters, starting with the fact that if Feyre hadn't forgiven you, you wouldn't have a book of your favorite to piss off. Preferring something is really subjective, you don't have to like a character even though he is the main character in the book. I've liked a lot of backers, Feyre is an exception and I've liked a lot of defective characters, I have no problem with that. But I never romanticized Nesta. I admit that she did some positive things, but I always found this badly built, as if Sarah didn’t know what to do with it. And honestly, if you think this character is complex you urgently need to expand your reading skills. She may be a different character, but to say that Nesta is complex in the first place is wanting to not recognize how abusive she was to Feyre, something that Sarah herself seems to have backed off in the end. Nesta's relationship with Feyre was not just a fight between sisters.

Nesta left a negative mark on Feyre that even the Feyre fighter needs to overcome. When you feel humiliated by someone to the point that it makes you feel less important, then we are not talking about a healthy relationship. Most cases of abuse occur among family members. So I will always say that Feyre would be more than justified in not wanting anything more with his sisters. Is Feyre a perfect character? No. She is far from being. But she is not obliged. It shouldn't be. She should not be forced to forgive people who have always taken good advantage of her and who have never done anything for her. The fact that Elain and Nesta helped in the war is a good thing, but the war was everyone's duty. They could have refused and died in the end. And it is necessary to highlight the role of Elain here, because if it weren't for Elain, Nesta would not have accepted to help Feyre even knowing what that meant. So I'm going to go back to my point to justify why I think Nesta is a character who actually suffers from a bad build and that Sarah tried to save at any cost in the end.

1- She spent the whole life sitting, 10 years, hating Feyre and waiting for her father to do something. But the narrative itself states that her father was crippled and that he developed some kind of trauma that made him apathetic. So, why do you expect such a person to go into a forest to hunt? Could he have tried other things? Yes. But you should also understand that it was limited.

2 - She lived with Feyre for 10 years without realizing that Feyre did not know how to read, but calling her ignorant and savage. How's that? You are built as a character who likes to read. Do you have a sensitivity for that and you didn't understand the basics? How old was Feyre when you were poor? How many years was your education considered complete and satisfactory when you were a few years older? Justifying that you didn't notice it to make you look better had the opposite effect, as it only showed how negligent you were. You weren't obliged to teach Feyre how to read, but you at least could have realized that she couldn't. She would have shown that at least you cared. It wasn't months or years of poverty, it was a decade. So you spent years calling Feyre ignorant and filthy and you never realized how bad she felt about it? So you are so good at discovering people's weaknesses and using it against them?

3 - Elain tries to justify the way she and Nesta were negligent with Feyre with: we had no skills and we didn't receive adequate training just for us to find out in addition that Feyre taught Nessa how to use a bow and even then she didn't move.

4 - it is useless to want to justify that the three were children. They were, in fact, the fault of the father of the three, but as I already pointed out, not without a reason. However, you and I know that Nesta's characterization would take you to that forest if it were for Elain. There would be no age, his mother's shadow or his father's hatred. She would have gone. She always prioritized Elain, including leaving Feyre alone with her father while he was assaulted and she hid with Elain

5 - Repentance? do not. She spent the rest of the years hating Feyre and spending her money on ribbons and boots she didn't need, again ignoring the rags her sister wore. And the narrative implied that Feyre really tried to argue about that, but her opinion didn't matter, there was always an urgency between Elain and Nesta for their futility to be attended to

6 - Don't try to discredit Feyre's point of view about Nesta when you are the first to isolate the positive points that Feyre spoke about his sister, for why show how much "complex" Nesta is

7 - Nesta's justification for Feyre about spending her money (stealing Feyre), was that she knew Feyre could get more. Nesta completely ignores how Feyre needed to risk his life in the forest every time she felt she could spend her money on new boots because "Feyre could get more". And how were you upset with her to the point of treating her badly because she was doing something when her father didn't and at the same time you stole her because you knew she would get more ?????

8 - It is sad to know that Feyre always needs to die or be kidnapped in order for Nesta to show how he feels about her;

9 - Feyre never did anything to make Nesta hate her other than being a better person than she is, even though Nesta feels entitled to hate her;

10 - Feyre is not to blame for Nesta's problems and failures, yet Nesta always finds a way to hurt her because she is angry with other people. She did this for 10 years while feeling angry at her father, she did it by telling about Feyre's risk of pregnancy in the most irresponsible way possible just because she was angry with Amaren. Don't come to me to say that she was concerned for Feyre's well being because she wasn't. If she had really been worried, she would have called Feyre for a chat and would have told her. But she just agreed with Rhysand and left the responsibility to save and support Feyre in his hands. Then she only remembered the danger that Feyre was in to destroy her relationship with Rhysand and Amaren. Seriously, your sister's pregnancy was risky and you couldn't think that she could have fallen dead right there just for you to have your victory over Amaren;

11- "You chose Feyre" Seriously Nesta, how dare you?

12 - It is very easy to build a character like Nesta and then resort to trauma to try to justify her and awaken the empathy of the reader. We got to the point that if we don't like Nesta, we are called misogynists and insensitive. However, before being abused, Nesta was abusive. Her mother was never an obstacle to protect Elain. So her mom is not a good excuse to try to explain why she never did anything for Feyre. Her attempted sexual assault does not give her the right to use people's trauma against them, as she does with Cassian. In fact, she always did this to Feyre before Thomas, Sarah just justified it with "I didn't really know that you couldn't read". Pathetic.

13- in most parts of acosf I couldn't say whether Nesta had a trauma to be cured by her father that she always mistreated for "being sick and traumatized" or if she was just a spoiled and selfish person who resented Feyre's happiness. I'm still confused;

14 - Sarah gave her impossible powers that she clearly didn't know how to develop. What was Nesta after all? A witch? A puppet of the Mother or death incarnate? I am confused about what her powers really were and I was not surprised by the lazy resolution that Sarah invented to get rid of them. I think we all agree that Feyre's pregnancy plot line didn't need to be there or it could have been developed without us having to see Feyre dying again. What a "creative".

I don't think Nesta is a bad character, I just think she is badly built because all of her justifications for behaving in a certain way are not satisfactory or open up holes in the narrative (her relationship with Elain is an example).

To make up for these construction flaws, Sarah tried to justify Nesta out of emotional issues. Establishing a toxic relationship with your mother in the past, an attempted sexual assault in the not-so-distant past, and the recent trauma caused by your father's death. Behind Nesta's decisions, there is always a purely emotional issue and that, in my view, takes away the complexity of the character.

She would be complex if she just admitted that and she was wrong and that was okay. Nobody is perfect. I got to see a good progression from Nesta to book 3 and I was fine with that. I thought that her whole issue with her father was worse than positive. But I think Sarah understands what Nesta was (abusive) and she wanted to ensure that she would be understood by opening up all of her feelings. I think it worked for some and for others it didn't. I found it appealing. I still don't like her, but I'm glad she is no longer allowed to be toxic. But for me she just needed to really explain herself and apologize to Feyre. I never thought Nesta really hated Feyre. The problem was not whether Nesta loved her or not, but the years when she was abusive to Feyre. She should have just recognized what it was and apologized for it.

#anti nesta stans #anti nesta archeron #anti nesta

[shuadotcom]

I Put a Spell on You | KNJ

✹ Summary: Namjoon wanted to find the right time to tell you he was born a warlock, but when a witch casts a time-sensitive spell on you, he may have to confess to you sooner than he anticipated. ✹ Pairing: Warlock!Namjoon x Mortal Female!Reader ✹ Genre: Fluff, warlock au, supernatural au, established relationship ✹ Rating: PG15 ✹ Warnings: Just cursing ✹ Word Count: 4.5k ✹ A/N: Written for @bangtanshadowfamily’s Creatures of Moonlight Manor 🖤 Huge thank you to @spicykoreantatertots​ for beta’ing this for me and giving me her wonderful feedback 🥰 

This GORGEOUS banner and matching divider was made by the super talented Vivi!! @eerieedits​ / @chillingtae​ seriously I am so in love with it thank you a million more times. Check out her edits!! 💜

Namjoon had wanted to tell you, he really did. There was just never the right time. He agonized over it for the entirety of your relationship, and now, five years later with marriage on his mind, he has to admit to you that he was born a warlock.

He knew that you hated magic; you made that very clear on your first date. Your mutual best friend set you two up, who knew what Namjoon was and knew how you felt.

“I think you two could hit it off, but you may not have much of a chance with her,” he remembers Yoongi telling him. “She hates magic and everything related to it.”

“But you’re a literal vampire, and she’s friends with you!”

“Yeah, but I’m not magical. I’m different.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and waved it off, but still didn’t mention what he was to you when you first met. That turned out to have been for the best after he learned more about you.

Being born the only person in your family in a decade with no magical abilities made you develop a hatred for all things and people related to witchcraft. Your family did their best not to exclude you from magic related games at family reunions and get-togethers and would try not to talk too heavily about it when you were around, but you always stood out like a sore thumb. You have a self-proclaimed chip on your shoulders that seemed to lessen over the years he’s known you but was still there.

Now, you’re coming up on your fifth anniversary, and Namjoon has an engagement ring burning a hole in his sock drawer because he’s ready to propose to you, but he can’t spend the rest of his life with you without telling you the truth. He loves you more than he’s ever loved anyone, but the idea of telling you he’s a warlock and having you leave him is terrifying.

Yoongi gets to hear all of his worries and woes anytime he’s over at the vampire’s apartment.

“Do you even know how you’re going to propose?” Yoongi asks as he scrolls through Netflix for the third time.

“Yeah, there’s a meteor shower on the night of our anniversary. We’re going to pack some food and head to the river to watch it, and I’m going to ask her then.”

Yoongi snorts. “Oh yeah, I forgot that you’re both nerds.” He dodges the throw pillow that Namjoon hurls at him. “So, just tell her when you propose.”

“Why, so she can tell me to go to fuck off and reject me?”

“Namjoon, I highly doubt she’ll do that. I’ve known Y/n since high school, and you’re the only person that she’s been with that she’s ever been in love with. Like genuine love.”

“Yeah, but you know her temper. Love or not, her anger knows no bounds.” Yoongi agrees, a memory of a time when he accidentally ate some of your leftover food coming to mind, and you made sure he suffered for a week straight after.

“Well, your anniversary is in like a week and a half, so you better figure it out. It may make her mad, but I truly think she loves you too much to leave you.”

Namjoon does his best to keep that in mind as the week goes on.

With your anniversary being on Sunday, you and Namjoon take Friday off of work so you can have a three day weekend together. Determined to pamper you before he tells you the truth, he takes you to one of your favorite restaurants for brunch to start the day.

As he’s holding the door open for you, a slender, dark-haired woman breezes past you and waltzes into the cafe, succeeding in cutting you both off and getting in line before you. The expression on your face already tells Namjoon how this interaction will go.

“You know what’s rude,” you say once you’re both in line behind the woman. You’re speaking loud enough for her to hear but not loud enough to cause a scene. “Seeing someone who’s clearly holding a door open for the person they’re with and just inserting yourself in the way.”

“Y/n…” Namjoon starts. Normally he loves your fiery, no-nonsense attitude, but he’s always telling you there’s a time and place for everything. His gut is telling him this is not one of the times.

“I’m just saying. To cut someone off who’s about to go into a building is just a really dick move.”

The woman in front of you whips her head around, her sharp eyes are staring you down, but of course, you are unwavering. She’s wearing dress pants and an expensive-looking blouse. She has a name tag on a lanyard around her neck that reads ‘Seulgi.’

“Is there a problem?” Annoyance clear in her tone.

“Yeah, there is. My boyfriend was holding the door open for me, and you just rudely cut us off to come inside.” The woman eyes you up and down.

“Oh well. I’m sure you can survive without your waffles for a little longer,” she shrugs and turns away from the two of you. Namjoon watches your jaw clench.

“Wow, what a bitch,” you mumble, knowing fully well she can hear you. Seulgi turns again, scowling at you.

“Watch who you’re talking to, girl. I could snap my fingers right now, and your mouth would disappear.”

You let out a sharp laugh and glance towards Namjoon. “Oh, great! This bitch is a witch!” You turn back to the witch, hands on your hips. “You magic losers think you can get away with whatever you want to just because you can wave your stupid fingers and make shit happen. I’m not afraid of you just because you were born different.”

The witch’s eyes dart from you to Namjoon. Her gaze lingers on him longer than normal and what looks like realization shows on her face. She lets out a chuckle. “So you hate witches and magical people, huh? That’s unfortunate because you’re going to need to find someone to cure you.”

“What the fuck are y-” Seulgi brings her hands up and waves her index and middle finger in one swift side-to-side motion before Namjoon can even intervene. You stumble backward, and Namjoon catches you before you hit the ground. You’re coughing, sounding winded even though you had been standing still. “What did you do to me?” You manage to rasp out between coughs.

Seulgi shrugs. “You seem like you talk a lot. Maybe a little too much. Let’s just say I gave you laryngitis, except it’ll be permanent unless you know someone who can break the spell. You have until midnight in two days' time.” The witch looks directly at Namjoon as she says this, smiling the entire time.  “Good luck!” She calls out as she steps over you and prances out the door.

On the list of ways Namjoon wanted to tell you he was a warlock, this was not on it whatsoever.

Less than an hour later, you and Namjoon are standing in front of Yoongi’s building, your fist pounding on the wood. The bleary-eyed vampire answers the door, clearly having been woken up from one of his mid-day naps. You wordlessly step into the apartment and plop onto the couch.

“Sure, hi Y/n, yes, please come in,” Yoongi mumbles under his breath and invites Namjoon inside. “To what do I owe this wonderful pleasure today?” You ignore the sarcasm in his sentence.

“I’m cursed!”

“Cursed?”

“Yes! We were getting brunch, and some asshole witch cut in front of us. I called her out, and the bitch cursed me! She said I need to find someone who knows magic to lift the spell or whatever in two days by midnight or I’ll never be able to speak again.” You manage to get this out in between coughs.

Namjoon ignores the pointed look that Yoongi gives him.

“So, you want me to ask one of my magic friends to break the spell?”

“Obviously. You’re the only supernatural person in town that I know well enough to ask. I’d ask my family, but there’s no way I can scrounge up enough money in two days to fly home.”

Yoongi stares at Namjoon, making the younger man uncomfortable, but doesn’t say anything.

“Fine. I’ll call someone I know, and you can meet up with him. Namjoon, come with me and get your girlfriend some water.”

Yoongi turns on the tap, and as soon as Namjoon enters the room, he sighs quite tiredly. “Are you seriously going to make me find someone else to do this?”

“This isn’t how I wanted to tell her! I wanted to do it on my own time and in a nicer situation than this.”

“Yeah, well, fate works in mysterious ways, huh?” Yoongi grabs a glass and fills it with ice. “You know how to break the spell, don’t you?”

“I mean, yeah. I may not have known the words the witch said, but it seems like a pretty simple silencing spell.”

“So, I will ask you again. Are you going to make me find someone to help your girlfriend, or are you going to go in there and help her yourself?” He hands Namjoon the glass of water and waits for his response.

“I just need a little more time-” Yoongi lifts his hand to stop him.

“That’s all I need from you. I already know who to call.”

His words worry Namjoon.

The next day, you and Namjoon arrive at the door of the person Yoongi asked to help you. Namjoon had known the tone that Yoongi took with him was concerning, and he was right.

“Come in, come in!” Seokjin waves his arm, letting you and Namjoon into his apartment. The older warlock winks at you, and Namjoon bristles.

Even after knowing Seokjin as long as he’s known you, Namjoon still doesn’t like him very much. According to Yoongi, Seokjin has been trying to get with you since your junior year of college, and it almost worked twice, but things fell through thanks to your refusal to date a magical person. Namjoon can admit that he’s the jealous type. The thought of another man wooing you makes his blood boil. Seokjin’s flirty enough that not even the object of his affection’s significant other being in the room will deter him. He’s shameless, and every time they’re in the same place, Namjoon comes closer and closer to turning him into a reptile.

“Y/n, you’re looking as beautiful as ever,” he practically purrs at you. “Namjoon, you’re looking…as you usually do.” Seokjin has never been rude per se, but nearly everything he says to Namjoon is passive-aggressive, which drives the younger warlock mad.

“Yeah, you too.”

“Anyway,” you interject with a cough. “I assume Yoongi told you why I’m here.”

“He did. I can’t believe you pissed off a witch so bad that she’s taking your voice away. I’ve always told you that one day your mouth would get you in trouble.” Seokjin’s eyes flick down to your lips, and Namjoon has to hold himself back from leaping across the room at him.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Kim. Can you break the spell or not?”

“Of course, I can. How many times have I told you that I’m the greatest warlock of the 21st century.” He shoots Namjoon a look. Seokjin had found out that Namjoon was a warlock a few years ago and always seemed like he was silently holding it over his head.

Seokjin motions for you and Namjoon to follow him into his second bedroom that he has made into his magic room. He walks past his bubbling cauldron to one of his bookshelves. He slides his fingers across a few of the spines before pulling out a book and rifling through its pages.

“Ah-ha! The spell she put on you is pretty amateur. She's either a new witch or a supremely lazy one. I mean, this is a spell that a baby witch could cast and-”

“Seokjin!” you wheeze. “I don’t care if this is a spell that only Merlin himself could cast. I just need you to fix me!”

“Alright, alright. I need to gather a few ingredients for a potion first. If the two of you would please go wait in the living room, I’ll be with you shortly.”

You and Namjoon do as he asks and go to wait on his couch. You play on your phone as Namjoon has his umpteenth tortured inner monologue. Your anniversary was tomorrow and he was still nowhere close to telling you about himself. To be fair, you did know that Seokjin was a warlock and you didn’t completely hate him. You just didn’t like to hang out with him unless you had to, and usually, the two of you spent most of your time together arguing.

Maybe Yoongi was right, and he was just overthinking this. The time that the two of you have spent together has been the best moments of his life, and he was sure you felt the same. But if that was true, why did he feel so uncertain? Why was the thought of telling you he has been keeping this massive secret from you for five years scaring him so much?

“So, good news and bad news,” Seokjin announces, coming into the room. “The good news is, I can break this nasty spell.”

“And the bad news?” You ask.

“Well, I’m afraid I won’t be able to do it until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?! I’m supposed to lose my voice for the rest of my life tomorrow!” You yell at him which sends you into a coughing fit. Namjoon rubs your back and meets Seokjin’s gaze. He hates the smug look the older warlock gives him.

“You’re not to lose your voice until midnight. I’ll do what I need to do before then. Your lovely boyfriend and I can organize where we’ll meet up.”

Namjoon is confused. “We’re not coming here?”

“No, this needs to be done elsewhere. I’ll text you a little later once I finish getting the things together that I need.”

He’s hesitant, but Namjoon agrees, and he and you head home. A week ago, he was looking forward to his anniversary, but now he’s dreading it and just wants the day to be over already.

“This is all my fault,” Namjoon blurts out in the car. The two of you are on your way to meet Seokjin at the location he insisted upon, a part of town that was almost atop a hill. According to the eldest, you needed to be outside and away from “prying eyes.” It sounded like a lie, but Seokjin was older, so Namjoon thought he might know a different way to break the spell.

“What do you mean?” You glance from the road to him briefly, then back in front of you again.

“We’re spending our anniversary with you under a spell, we have no starlight picnic packed, and I have to look at Kim Seokjin’s face.”

“Joonie, this isn’t your fault. You didn’t do this to me. I suppose I do have a big mouth sometimes.” You shrug and find his hand on the center console to hold. “This can still be an anniversary date, though. Once Seokjin does what he needs to do, we can send him home and enjoy the meteor shower together. Plus, when you were showering, I snuck the picnic basket in the car. We can still salvage the night.” You parked the car and sent him a smile that had his heart beating so loud he swore it echoed throughout the cabin of the vehicle.

He leans over and kisses you for the first time today, his heart pounding impossibly faster. He decides then and there that he’s going to propose to you tonight no matter what. If it means hiding his magic from you until you’re old and gray, then he will.

Hand in hand, you and Namjoon head up the path closest to you until you see Seokjin in the clearing. He’s crouching on the ground in front of a leather satchel and reading through a book. When he sees you and Namjoon approaching, he puts the book away and pulls out a mason jar filled halfway with a glowing purple liquid.

“Good evening, my darling.” Seokjin smiles broadly at you when he sees you. “I hope your day was marvelous.”

“It’s my anniversary, and I spent all day stressing and hacking my lungs up, and now, instead of having a romantic evening, I’m here about to be exorcised. Does anything about that sound marvelous?” You got through the sentence, only coughing three times.

“My sweet Y/n, you’re so dramatic. Let’s get on with it then, come on.” Seokjin waves both you and Namjoon over, presenting the bottle of liquid to you. “So, the removal of the spell itself is pretty easy. Step one is to drink the potion, and then we wait two minutes. I’ll set a timer and-” Before he finishes his sentence, you toss your head back and gulp down the purple liquid in record time. Seokjin fumbles with his phone to set his timer as soon as the last drop is in your mouth.

“This tastes kind of like grape juice,” you comment, handing him the empty bottle.

“Patience, woman! What if the next step required traveling somewhere far away?!”

“Well, does it?”

“No…”

“Great, so what do we do next?”

Seokjin sighs and glances at his phone timer. “Once the timer is up, Well, your boyfriend isn’t going to like this, but I have to kiss you.“

“What?!” You and Namjoon exclaim in unison, your voices bouncing off the surrounding trees.

“Why the hell do you have to kiss her?” Namjoon feels his fists clenching, and his face hurts from how hard he’s scowling.

“It’s the way to break the spell. After she drinks the potion, which does most of the work, she then has to kiss a witch or warlock for it to take effect.”

“Ugh, I feel like this is your way of finally kissing me,” you groan. “Fine, whatever, as long as I get to keep my voice.”

“Y/n, no.” Namjoon’s sweating in the middle of the crisp fall air at the thought. This had to be some sort of joke, right? He racks his brain to remember what he learned about this spell in high school. He remembers that he has to say a generic counterspell to break it, but he doesn’t recall any glowing purple potion and a kiss.

“Joonie, it’s just a kiss. I don’t like it either, but unless you find my voice that annoying, we’re out of options here.”

“Ten seconds,” Seokjin reads. Namjoon watches the older warlock lick his lips and send him a wink. While he was typically a pacifist in a situation of confrontation, the overwhelming urge to punch Seokjin with all of the strength he can muster is strong.

He watches you let out a sigh and step closer to Seokjin, tilting your head up towards him.

“Times up,” Seokjin says.

Before he’s able to lean down, Namjoon is behind you, pulling you towards him and smashing his lips into yours. He feels you relax in his arms only for a second before you’re pushing him away.

“Namjoon, you ruined it! Seokjin specifically said someone who’s magical needs to be the one to kiss me!”

“I am someone magical! I’m a warlock!”

Silence fills the air. Namjoon’s breathing hard, his heart feeling as though it’s going to beat out of his chest. You’re staring at him, and he can see your brain trying to make sense of what he just said.

“You’re a warlock?” You finally ask, your brows scrunching.

“Fuck, Y/n, this isn’t how I wanted to tell you.” Namjoon’s legs feel like jelly, so he lowers himself to the grass and sits. “I wanted to find a time where it was just the two of us, and we weren’t fighting a clock. I wanted to be able to tell you and not feel so scared, but I just, the idea of him putting his mouth on you and being the one to break this damned spell, made me so mad.”

“I…I don’t know what to say.” You don’t look as angry as he thought you would. You look confused more than anything. “We went through all of this when you could’ve helped me this whole time?”

Guilt that he felt about not telling you combined with the fact that yes, all of this could’ve been taken care of literally the same day you met the witch that started this all. “Y/n, I know you probably hate me right now, and you probably want nothing to do with me ever again, but please just know I love you more than anything. I love you more than anyone I’ve ever been with. You’re my soulmate and the love of my life. The idea of telling you that I’m magical, knowing how you feel about magic, scared me shitless.

“The idea of losing you was too much to bear. I wanted to propose to you tonight before all of this happened, but all I could replay in my mind was you throwing the ring at me and storming off after I told you the truth. I’m sorry I ruined our anniversary.” Namjoon stays sitting on the wet grass, not caring that it was soaking through his jeans. He can’t will himself to look up at you, fearing the rejection he feels coming.

He catches sight of your sneakers walking over and stopping in front of him before you’re crouching down and cupping his face. The sound of you sniffling has his eyes snapping up to meet your red-rimmed ones. “Joon, I love you so much. The fact that you would even think that I’d leave you after all the time we’ve been together and everything we’ve been through is stupid. Yeah, I’ve never much-liked magic, but you should know that I love you more than life itself.” You smile at him, and he feels his breath catch in his throat. You still love him.

“Right now, more than anything, I’m just pissed that we went on this entire adventure when you could’ve just saved us the trouble and broke the spell days ago. But I love you more than I dislike magic. And if that offer still stands, I’d love to be engaged to you. If you want.”

Namjoon grabs you then, wrapping you in his long arms and pulling you close to his chest. The two of you topple onto the soft grass, the smell of soil mixing with the familiar scent of you. He fishes the small, black velvet box out of his jacket pocket and slips the simple silver band with an amethyst stone onto your ring finger, kissing your hand once it was snug in place.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am right now. I love you so much,” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

“I really do hate to interrupt,” Seokjin cuts in from the same spot he’s stood in since Namjoon pulled you from him. “But, you still need to break the spell.”

“What do you mean? Didn’t I do that already?”

“Well, not really. The kiss isn’t the thing that was supposed to break it. There’s a counterspell you need to recite.”

“But, I’ve stopped coughing,” you point out.

“That’s because the potion you drank stopped it. I figured I’d give you something to lessen the soreness in your throat, maybe, but you still have like three hours left before your voice is gone for good.” Seokjin forces a smile that neither you nor Namjoon return.

“So what the hell was all that kiss nonsense for?” Namjoon huffs out, standing up and advancing towards Seokjin.

“It was to get you to tell her you were a warlock! Yoongi said if I made up the whole kiss thing, it’d get you mad enough to admit it, and I mean it worked, didn’t it?”

Yoongi. He set this whole thing up to get Namjoon to tell you the truth. “You mean to tell me that Yoongi got a witch to curse Y/n, just to get you involved to make me jealous so that I’d confess?”

“He only organized the latter part of all this. This whole spell thing was all because of Y/n’s smart mouth.” Namjoon sees you flip off Seokjin in his peripheral.

“Joon, we can go curse out Yoongi later, but can you please break this spell? I’m seriously stressing over here.”

Namjoon makes a mental note to pay Yoongi a not so friendly visit later and makes his way back over to you. He has you close your eyes while he recalls the right counterspell to make everything go back to normal. He murmurs under his breath, hovering his hand over your throat, and his fingers tingle as the words leave his mouth. As quickly as he begins, he’s done and lowering his hand.

You open your eyes and clear your throat a few times. “How do I know if it worked?”

“It worked.”

“Yeah, but how will I know?”

“If you wake up tomorrow morning and speak, then you’ll know it worked.” You frown at him and glance up at the sky.

“We seriously need to talk about all the things you can do later, but for now, I really just want to watch the meteor shower and actually finish what’s supposed to be a romantic anniversary date.”

“We can do that.”

From there, you head to the car to get the dinner you packed, and Namjoon tells Seokjin he can leave. He asks the older warlock to let Yoongi know to expect a visit from him tomorrow that won’t just be to hang out.

Once Seokjin’s gone, and you’ve spread out the spare blanket you keep in your car, Namjoon relaxes as you lean against him, feeding him parts of the sandwiches you made. While this may not have been the ideal way he planned for anything that transpired to happen, all that matters is that you still love him, and he gets to watch the way the meteors flying above glisten off of the ring on your finger.

The next morning, you’re able to confirm that Namjoon was, in fact, able to break the spell that the witch had cast onto you. You still have your voice, and you’re able to give Yoongi an earful about not telling you his best friend was a warlock when he first introduced you while simultaneously thanking him for introducing the two of you. The vampire tiredly took the verbal assault after you and Namjoon had barged into his apartment early in the morning.

As Namjoon watches you threaten to shove a clove of garlic up Yoongi’s ass if he ever lies to you again, he knows that asking you to become his wife is the best decision he’s ever made in his life.

2nd A/N: Fun fact, this started out as a different fic that I wrote the beginning and end of, but then my brain couldn’t function for the middle so I wrote it all over again. The original version of this will probably still be finished in the future, who knows when. Also, as a disclaimer, I am in love with Seulgi. The idea of her as a sassy witch? Chef’s kiss!!! Anyway, hope everyone enjoyed it!

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