#text messages from Lindsay

[leftduck9986]

Lindsay's last text messages (S2E5)

I thought it was just a radio playing in the background in the coffee shop, but now realise that it's Lindsay's voice sounding in Nina's mind while reading Lindsay's last text messages:

Cranked up the volume past 60% and used the audio setting, English Dialogue Boost: High wearing headphones, to be sure of what I was hearing.

The actor voicing Lindsay reads both messages in full, from 13m36-47s.

Does the actor's voice sound familiar to anyone?

#Good Omens 2 #Episode 5: The Ball #text messages from Lindsay #voice actor for Lindsay

[amu-says-hav-says]

I can’t believe I went through all of Season 2 assuming Nina was the stand-in for Crowley when you actually pay attention it’s so CLEAR that she’s Aziraphale. I was tricked by her spiky, sarcastic, cynical outer shell and lulled into a false sense of security by Maggie’s bubbly optimism and wholesome goodness, because on the surface they reflect the ineffable husbands perfectly, in their personalities, their aesthetics, even many of their actions and morals. but not, and this is the real key, when it comes to their “relationship”. but those first impressions really had me damn fooled. 

I missed the blatantness of Nina’s “we’re just friends. actually we’re not friends. we barely know each other.” the same thing Aziraphale said in season 1.  the way he still struggles to quantify their friendship when Nina asks. Nina’s sarcasm when Crowley asks about rain and awnings because it worked for him (we all know it LMAO). hell, that whole convo the girls have in the rain is so AziraCrow (“I know. I’m not your type” “...You have no idea” hits so much harder the second time, help meeeee.) “Lindsay” maybe being symbolic of Heaven and Aziraphale’s toxic relationship with them and their abuse? (the handwritten text messages in red pen make me think of angry notes on paperwork, anyone else?) because Crowley has never actually cared about what Hell thinks of him, just not getting into trouble (or him or Aziraphale getting hurt). Maggie is always chasing Nina. NINA NEVER GOES IN THE RECORD STORE. Just like Crowley always goes to the bookstore, to Aziraphale, Zira NEVER WENT TO THE FLAT (apart from The Swap but that doesn’t count imo). Crowley has always chased Zira, not the other way around. Always there to rescue him, always going to him for company, always relying on their shared connection, always US. OUR SIDE. All through season one, he comes to Zira every time to work together, never trying to work alongside Hell in any way that isn’t to save their skins or Earth, while Zira hides things from Crowley because he STILL thinks Heaven is ultimately good and will do the right thing if he can just show them. fix it from the inside. 

Maggie working up the courage to finally say something, to put herself out there, while Nina is utterly oblivious and then when she does realise Maggie has feelings, becoming standoffish, putting up that barrier, fighting it, denying it, ITS SO CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE IN THAT ORDER. the way I was fooled into thinking Nina’s trust issues are Crowley because he does have trust issues ofc he does BUT Crowley has ALWAYS TRUSTED AZIRAPHALE. has always relied on him. has always been hurt when Aziraphale doesn’t immediately reciprocate the way he expects (the holy water request, the bandstand, the “off in the stars” etc). he’s always the one putting himself forward. Aziraphale has always been the one to second guess everything, to fight their connection, their similarities, their friendship. the girls really made me think it was going to be okay when they sat Crowley down, even as my inner sirens were going haywire about Metatron interfering, they were telling Crowley he just needs to open up and it’ll all work out BUT HE’S ALREADY AT THAT POINT. he may not say it, and by gosh is that part of their damn problem, but he’s always SHOWN IT. he’s not Nina who needs time to heal and recover from her broken trust, he’s always been Maggie believing it doesn’t matter, they’ll end up together in the end anyway AND I WALKED RIGHT INTO THE TRAP THAT THIS MEANT THEY WERE GOING TO BE OKAYYYYYYYYYYY

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens 2 #GO2 #GO2 spoilers #ineffable husbands #not me going to my basically unused sideblog that isn't GO related because I NEED TO YELL THIS SOMEWHERE #I mean outside of the relationship thing there are so many ways #that Nina and Crowley line up and Zira and Maggie #but the girls story isn't about them as people #it's about this relationship the boys are tryna push on them and what that relationship reflects about the boys #anyway I'm on my first rewatch for all the clue I missed #so I imagine I'll only spot more clues to berate myself about as I go #HOW DID I FALL FOR ITTTTTT #I can't believe I was so blind #OFC the Disaster Puppy Lesbian was Crowley #and OFC the Emotionally Abused Tortoise was Aziraphale

[neil-gaiman]

Maybe, you’ve answered this before, but why does the text messages from Lindsay show up on the chalkboard(and other places I may have missed) instead of showing them on Nina’s phone? Is there a particular reason or was it just a clever way to show them?

It was just a clever way to show them.

[pink-bandana-writes]

Margaritas and Misunderstandings

Raphael x Reader

Summary: Raphael never expected to meet his soulmate, especially not at a college Halloween party.

Notes: I love writing college-age turtles lol and I also really love soulmate aus and haven’t written any on this blog yet, so enjoy! Let me know if you want more parts to this one, I really like Raph and reader’s dynamic here.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing

Word Count: 2k

Reader Is: In college, female

Raphael had been convinced the words on his arm were a joke, some cruel reminder the universe had given him that he was unlovable. He wasn’t meant to have a soulmate. Look, he’d urge himself, standing in the mirror. Look at that. Ain’t no one gonna love all that.

The ink had appeared around the time Raph turned eighteen, about a month before his eighteenth birthday, in fact, when his existence was still, for the most part, a secret and every girl he’d interacted with thus far had fainted when they saw him, April included, though she was now a very dear friend of theirs. He was twenty-one now. He and his brothers were going to a human college on the surface, slowly but surely integrating themselves into human society.

Raph had been convinced, really truly convinced, that the words on his arm still didn’t mean anything, couldn’t mean anything. Until Leo met his soulmate, that was.

He remembered the frantic message to the group chat the brothers shared. Leo was at the library. The others were en route to study with him, but he’d gotten out of class before the others. Sure enough, he’d bumped into some quiet little bookworm in the library and said the words on her wrist, causing her to say exactly what was written on Leo’s in return.

That had been a few months before, right at the beginning of the school year. Leo was dating her now, obviously. Her name was Isabella and Raph thought she was…nice. It kinda made him sick how perfect she and Leo were together. Just reminded him how alone he was, but more than that, it stirred up the anxiety deep in the pit of his stomach, the constant reminder that he did have a soulmate and someday…they’d look him in the eye and say “Shit, I’m so sorry!”

Even if he did have a soulmate. Even if they did find him someday, what was the point? It seemed like they weren’t very happy to see him, whoever they were.

So Raph went about his life, trying to ignore the words on his wrist as best as he could, dreading the day when his soulmate would reject him, just as he knew they always would.

***

“Hey, (Y/N), you’re coming to the Halloween party this weekend, right? It’s at the Sigma House.” Your roommate said, sitting across from you at the library. Her name was Lindsay and she was a pretty blonde girl majoring in criminal justice. She was going to be a lawyer someday, ala Elle Woods and wanted to do her best to make the world a better place.

“I don’t know about that.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “You remember what happened at their homecoming party, right? I’m not much of a party girl, apparently…”

“Oh nonsense, you learned your lesson. You’re still just…learning your limits, is all. Gotta build up that tolerance somehow.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, from right beside the toilet maybe.”

“What, like lightning’s gonna strike twice? It’s Halloween! It’ll be fun! Plus, where else are you gonna wear your cute lil’ costume? It’s not like we can go trick or treating anymore.”

“Valid point.” You shrugged and chewed on the end of your straw. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“YESSSSS! I’m texting Isabella. She’s bringing Leonardo.”

“Ah yes, the elusive Leonardo.” You took a sip from your iced coffee. “Supposedly he has three brothers that all go here too, but I swear I haven’t seen any of them except him the, what, two times we’ve met him.”

“I think he’s nice.”

“I think he’s nice too, but you’d think it would be easier to spot them out and about.” You chuckled. “Oh never mind, I spoke too soon.”

“Where.” Lindsay turned around, catching a glimpse of the large, hulking turtle walking into the library, side by side with a slightly smaller turtle carrying a skateboard.

“Don’t look too fast, oh my god.”

“Ooh. He’s…”

“Hot.”

“I was gonna say ‘big’ but yeah, that works too.” Lindsay giggled. “Oh my god, (Y/N), I didn’t know you were into that. You know, I saw that Ice Planet Barbarians book at the B&N in the mall if you—”

“Shut up!” You hit her playfully with the book you had sitting on the table.

The large turtle in the red flannel caught your eye and smirked, giving a little half-wave. You waved back, cheeks fully flushed from your conversation with Lindsay.

“Oh my god he just waved at you. Oh my god!”

“Shut upppp!” You rolled your eyes, sliding down your seat.

***

The Sigma Halloween Bash finally arrived and you slipped into your costume, Raven from Teen Titans, right down to the cape you’d spent the better part of a day sewing yourself.

You looked over yourself in the mirror. You looked hot, you admitted, admiring yourself in the costume. It was no wonder she was everyone’s first cartoon crush.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.” You turned around to face Isabella, who was dressed as Belle from Beauty and the Beast. “Aww, you look cute!”

“Thanks! It was Leo’s idea.”

“Speaking of whom…are the boys coming over here first or…?”

“They’re meeting us there. Lindsay told me you guys saw Raph, huh?”

“Oh yeah. Forgot about that.” Your cheeks reddened at the mere mention of his name. “Raph, huh?”

“Raphael. He’s…nice. I don’t think he likes me all that much, but Leo says he gets better once you get to know him.”

“One of those.” You nodded. “Good to know in case I run into him completely shitfaced. Try to make a good impression.”

“Good luck with that.” Isabella chuckled, ushering you downstairs so you and your other roommates would walk the few blocks to the party.

For Halloween, it was pretty warm outside with a nice breeze, costumed college kids marching down every sidewalk to find whatever party they were headed for. And, as usual, you were following the biggest stream of kids, straight into the Sigma house.

The music was deafening and the second you stepped inside, one of the drunk frat guys handed each of you a can of White Claw, which you grimaced at and handed to Lindsay, who took it with a smile. Instead, you set out in search of a Margarita, the one drink you knew you liked, thus far. Your search was successful. You poured yourself a glass of the sweet lime drink and found your roommates again.

“There she is!” Lindsay pulled you to her and spun you around as you sipped from your drink. “You find your Marg?”

“Always.”

“The boys are on the way.” Isabella reported, bobbing along to the music while reading from her phone. “Should be any—Oh, there they are! Leo!” She waded through the crowd, pushing her way to the giant turtle who was dressed in the Beast’s suit from Beauty and the Beast. That was cute.

Raph wandered into the kitchen and out of your sight, but not before you saw the large foam spikes taped to his shell. He was dressed as Bowser. That was really funny, actually.

The party continued and you had a second margarita. You were deciding on whether or not to grab a third and then decided to commit when you saw him still hanging around the kitchen.

So, tipsy as ever, you walked through the frat house to the kitchen and poured yourself yet another drink.

“Ayo Raven! You look good did you make that yourself?” asked the shortest of the turtles, although he still stood at least six feet tall.

“I did! Thank you so much! I loved the show as a kid.”

He grinned. “I did too. I’m Mikey, by the way. You’re Isabella’s roommate, right?”

“I am indeed. (Y/N).”

“Well, (Y/N), it’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too!” You beamed, scanning the kitchen. Huh, not sight of Raphael. You wondered where he’d gone. You thought for a moment and second-guessed your third margarita for the night, decided to get a glass of ice water instead.

When you walked back out to the other room, you found him alright, stumbling right into him and spilling your water all over him.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” You apologized, looking up at him. He stared back down at you, his eyes wide.

“It’s you? Yer…Wow, I just, uh…I…I didn’t think it would be you.” He stammered, reading through the words that had been etched onto your wrist since high school. You rolled up your sleeve, glancing down at them to be sure before looking back up at him, sobering up almost instantly.

“You’re my soulmate.” You whispered, starstruck in his presence.

“Let me get ya some more water, alright?” He offered, taking the empty solo cup from you, his giant hand gentler than you could have ever imagined it to be. “I’ll be right back.”

“O-Okay.” You nodded, still, for lack of better word, shell-shocked where you stood, the world crumbling around you until he finally came back with another cup of water.

He handed it to you and you were sure you were gonna drop that one, too, but you didn’t, miraculously, holding onto it for dear life. “You wanna get some air?”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

Tentatively, Raphael offered his hand to you in the crowded room. He didn’t expect you to take it. In no reality could he imagine this pretty girl dressed as a superhero to take his hand, but you did, slipping your hand into his and letting him lead you out into the backyard.

The sounds of the party faded away. There were a few people out on the deck making out, but the grass was wide open, the perfect spot to get away from all the noise in there.

You were both quiet for a while, your heart hammering in your chest as you sat down next to him. You took a long sip of water, chasing the edge of the margarita away.

“So uh…it’s okay if ya…uh…I shoulda practiced this.” He shook his head, letting out a pathetic chuckle. “I get it, I mean, if yer not…into me. I saw ya laughin’ at me at the library the other day.”

“Oh fuck, no I wasn’t I…kind of the opposite, actually.” You admitted, counting your blessings you had some liquid courage in your body for this conversation. “I’m Isabella’s roommate. Lindsay and I both are and I…I just kinda blurted out that you were hot and she…she was making fun of me, not you. I’d never make fun of you.”

“Wait, you…” He grinned, amused. “Yer not serious.”

“I am, I swear.” You laughed, pulling your cape around yourself. “I like your costume, by the way.”

“Heh. Yeah, thanks. Low effort costumes are kinda my forte.” He shrugged. “Mikey did the spikes for me. Was kinda hopin’ you’d show up dressed as Princess Peach, to be honest.”

“You still wanted me to be the Peach to your Bowser even when you thought I was making fun of you?” You asked, pouting up at him. “Raph…”

“I wouldn’t’a held it against ya even if you were.” He shrugged. “Hell, my own sister passed out the first time she met the four of us.”

“You have a sister?”

“Her name’s April. We ain’t blood, but we are family.” He smiled. “I’d like ta introduce her to ya someday. If ya want, of course. I’m…I ain’t ever done this before.”

“Well you’re doing great.”

“Ya don’t have to lie.” He nudged you playfully.

“I’m not.” You giggled, nudging him back. “You are doing great.”

“You still drunk?”

“Not much.”

“Mmm.”

“What?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Those margaritas might be clouding ya judgement, shorty.”

“They are not.” You giggled, reaching for his arm, which he gladly gave to you. You grabbed onto him, a little cold now that you’d been out there for a bit.

“If ya need me to warm ya up, I can’t. I’m cold-blooded.”

“Oh right. That’s okay.”

“Ya wanna go back inside?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I just wanna sit out here with you for a while.”

He smiled, withdrawing his arm and putting it around you instead. He rested his head against yours, letting out a long breath as you sat beneath the stars. “I like that plan.”

Tags: @thelaundrybitch, @turtle-babe83, @dilucsflame33, @happymoonangel, @leleouwu

#tmnt aged up #tmntagedup #bayverse #raph x reader #raphael #raphael x reader #raph #tmnt imagine #tmnt imagines

[scepterno]

i love ur fic so much ive been hyperfixating on it for like two weeks 😢😢 can i have some little trivia facts about some of the characters please i need to know silly stuff u haven't told us!!

omg.. ty... this is the sort of message that gives me life I LOVE SILLY TRIVIA

gwen and trent probably hang out the most from the original cast (minus anyone living together or dating). gwen has her own room in her parent's house dedicated to painting and trent will chill there on a bean bag in the corner writing music while she paints. now that she and courtney are dating, courtney visits way more to study in that chair while gwen works (they take breaks to make out and cuddle very often) gwen's little brother thinks trent is a huge loser and wishes duncan would hang out around the house more instead (courtney bullies him on trent's behalf)

cody lives in a dorm room on campus at his college. sierra goes to the same college but still lives with her mom (she has an hour long commute) she and cody hang out on campus and hang out in a lot of the same clubs and friend groups (mostly nerdy stuff)

harold is a speedrunning streamer and video editor for popular youtube channels. they make music for fun but wants to make professional music for indie games one day.

leshawna really loves to do community service (canon in the show) but i like to think she somehow managed to drag duncan into it too (his parole officer approves) so they get really close through that. he also ends up being dragged to a bunch of family events and parties with leshawna. like an honorary brother who acts like he doesnt want to be there but is super good with all the kids and is never actually disrespectful to the adults. leshawna's parents adore him. he's never been more well fed in his life.

zoe mike and cameron are all living their best lives with the all stars money zoe/mike earned. mike and cameron live together but zoe lives in an apartment with 5 roommates near her community college. they live within 10 minutes of bus so distance isn't an issue at all. they're practically inseparable.

scott and courtney are actually pretty good friends still (they never dated in all stars in this fic) and text regularly. scott moved back home after the show so he's not really near anyone else from the casts, but that's more of a blessing than anything considering the wacky hijinks everyone gets into on the regular.

i think ezekiel lindsay beth and tyler probably hang out a lot when lindsay and tyler aren't traveling around the world to fashion shows and whatnot. zeke got super into thrifting fashion because of lindsay. he's like. bowling alley employee fashion. you know. and although he's not really good at sports, tyler still likes to have "boys nights" and take him to games. they have a tradition of buying and rating the hot dogs at every stadium they visit, and buying souvenirs for lindsay.

alejandro really wants a lizard tattoo but he's very sensitive to pain and would definitely cry, so he's avoided getting one until he can find a tattoo artist who won't judge him for sobbing in the chair. he learned his lesson the hard way when he got his nose piercing and nearly broke carlos's hand because he was so scared (it didn't really hurt that bad, but nerves make everything worse).

josé has a quarter collection (like, the united states quarters, because there's a different one for every state). it's a good excuse to travel and get out of the house (or country) for a weekend retreat.

okay that's pretty much all i have in me right now (i have a meeting to go to at work) but if you want to hear anything for a specific character or headcanon, i would LOVE to share my thoughts!!!!

[mackenzielovee]

sixth sense: part six

synopsis: "You figure you might not be satisfied until you can read his mind; see every thought, every memory, and know every single one of his favorites things."

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, brief mention/description of anxiety attack, kissing, tiny sexual innuendos, allusions to domestic violence.

wc: 6k

a/n: hi<3 sorry this took so long but i hope you enjoy regardless! leave me some words and let me know <3 xo

series masterlist

     You wake early on Saturday with the promise of seeing Rafe today. Not just seeing him, because it’s never been that simple with the two of you. Getting to experience him. On a date. With you. Alone. 

The thought itself seems to drive you crazy enough that, at ten in the morning, you’re exfoliating and shaving every inch of your skin in the shower. Not so much for Rafe, but as a distraction from sitting around, overthinking what might happen tonight or how things could go wrong. You wash your hair and try to think about something – anything – but tonight. But him. 

You fail. The second you climb out of the shower, wet hair sticking to your neck and shoulders, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You draw back when, for a split second, you don’t recognize yourself. This girl looks happy and healthy; like she’s eating proper meals again and smiling more. 

You know it’s because of him, even if you refuse to admit that to yourself. 

     You make lunch and then move back into the bathroom to dry your hair and straighten it, only to spend the remainder of the day picking out the perfect outfit for tonight. You want it to be classy, but not too done up. Nice, but not like you’re trying too hard. 

Rafe had texted you last night and told you he’d pick you up at six and asked for your address, but given no information on what the two of you would be doing or what you should wear. Too excited to wait and too nervous to guess, you dial his number.

His line rings four times, and each ring makes you more anxious than the last. Your mind wanders before you can stop it, and you’re sure if he doesn’t pick up, you’ll spiral. 

What if he’s blowing you off?

He’s probably staring right at his phone right now, ignoring you. 

What if he changed his mind?

What if he realized I’m not good enough for him?

When the line clicks and you hear shuffling on the other end, you let out the breath you’d been holding in. The relief only lasts for a few seconds, because the voice that comes through the phone isn’t his. 

“Rafe’s phone.”

Your heart stops in your chest at the tone in Lindsay’s voice – playful, sneering, and triumphant – and you swallow down the words you’d been planning to say. 

“Um,” you stutter, taking a breath as you try to collect yourself, “Is he there?”

“He’s in the shower, actually,” she says, “But I can pass a message along to him if you’d like.”

You’re sure she’d love that. 

Your mouth suddenly feels too dry, your hair feels too straight, your legs feel too shaved. You’d spent the entire day wanting everything to be perfect for tonight – only to come to find out Rafe Cameron spent the day with Lindsay. And now he’s in the shower. Your stomach constricts with your throat, leaving you to croak out a response. 

“I–” you clear your throat, shoving your tears back, “Something came up. I’m not free tonight. Let him know.”

You swear she snickers into the phone. You don’t care. Every nerve in your body is screaming at you, telling you how stupid you are for this. For being excited. For thinking that a man could ever be interested enough in you to not want others. 

Campbell had been the same way. You were to be his, but he shared himself with other women. Now, you’d gone and gotten involved with the same type of man. You’re his, but that doesn’t necessarily make him yours. 

“I will,” she replies smoothly, “Who is this, by the way?”  

Your throat closes, “He doesn’t have my number saved?”

You whisper it more to yourself than to her, but she laughs all the same. As if it’s funny. As if Rafe Cameron taking you out is nothing more than a joke to her, because he can’t possibly be interested in you. 

“Oh, Y/N, right,” she replies, “Were you guys gonna study or something?”

Your eyes flutter closed and your body runs numb; self preservation seems to kick into high gear as you realize you have to get off the phone now. 

“Yeah,” you lie easily, demanding your tears stay back, “Yeah. We were. But I can’t now.”

Lindsay faux pouts into the phone, “What a shame. Thanks for calling.”

     Five fifty rolls around before you even notice it. You’ve been frozen on your couch; unable to cry, scream, or sob. You just feel numb. Trying to make sense of it seems an impossible task, because you don’t know why Lindsay was there. But the thought of being the stupid girl again has you reliving every moment of your relationship with Campbell. You will not go back to that person. You’re different now — you deserve to be different. 

A knock on your apartment door draws you out of biting your nails off, and against your better judgment, you swear you know it’s him. You can feel it when he gets close to you. That blanket of safety and comfort seems to wrap itself around you in a way you could never understand. Reluctantly, you stand, knowing he won’t go away until you tell him to, and take a deep breath before you open the door. 

The first thing you see are his eyes. They draw you in every single time, shining bright blue and always landing on you. The second thing you notice is his grin. That wide, happy smile that he always has on his face. It’s when your eyes meet the bouquet of tulips in his hand, held ever so gently with the promise of giving them to you without damage on the way over here, that your heart melts. 

You’ve had it all wrong, you suddenly realize. He’s here, now, with flowers, and that fucking grin. He’s here, now, when Campbell would’ve been two hours late with lipstick on his collar. He’s here, now, looking at you like that, and you realize just how wrong you are. 

He’s not anything like Campbell. In fact, he’s so different that you’re sure, in that moment, that nobody else on this planet could earn your trust the way he has. 

“Hi,” he speaks, a hint of shyness in his voice, “You look—”

“I’m not ready yet,” you blurt, then backtrack, “Also, hi.”

“Hi,” he repeats with a laugh. 

“Um, come in,” you step aside and hold the door open for him, swallowing at the sight of Rafe Cameron entering your space. Your safe person entering your safe space. It makes you smile. 

“These are for you,” he smiles, holding the bouquet out.

You bite your lip to hide a smile, but it doesn’t stop your body’s physical reaction. Your hands tremble slightly as you take the flowers from him; suddenly nervous of how you must come off to him. 

You stand in, what you realize, is his tee shirt and leggings. He anxiously tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he eyes you up and down, taking you in completely. You can barely stand to take the rest of him in, because that crisp, long sleeve, white button up he has deliciously tucked into his jeans has your mouth running dry. 

“Thank you, Rafe,” you practically whisper, “They’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

His words hit you right where Lindsay’s had earlier; healing up the wound and making you smile. He glances around and seems to be taking in your home, so you nod for him to follow you into your kitchen. 

“It’s not much,” you admit, “But it’s enough for now.”

“It looks like plenty,” he says with an encouraging nod.

You give him a thankful smile back, then look down at your clothes. You’re aware of your lack of makeup, your current outfit, and the way he seems so unfazed by the entire thing. He’d shown up here like you’d never called; like you’d never tried to cancel in the first place. It seems entirely too unlike him to not even address it. 

“I’m sorry I’m not ready,” you say, “Did you not get my message?”

His brows furrow into an expression that looks equal parts confusion and panic. With a slight shake of his head, he pulls his phone out of his back pocket. 

“You texted?” he asks, “I thought I checked—”

“Must not have sent,” you say quickly, waving him off.

He doesn’t look entirely convinced, but you don’t wait for him to look further into it. Instead, you decide to trust the situation based purely off of face value, and smile it away. You turn from him to fill a vase with water, then unwrap the flowers and place them neatly into it. 

“What did it say?”

You smile to hide your grimace and shake your head, doing your best to act nonchalant. 

“Just that I was running late. Can you give me, like, ten minutes?”

He visibly relaxes and nods his head, “I’ll give you as long as you need.”

Your heart swells in your chest purely by the way he’s looking at you. The vase rests on the counter and you leave it there, then step around to where he stands. His hands are still in his pockets, and you notice for the first time that he left his hair unstyled and messy. You’re sure it wasn’t accidental; you’re sure it’s for you. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

You watch him swallow, anxious at your proximity. His words ring through your head, and even though a kiss from him would work wonders for you right now, you settle on pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

When you pull back, you note how his cheeks and his ears have gone pink, making you smile wide. He laughs before he can help himself, then nods his head in the direction of your room. 

“You better scram before I take back my declaration,” he teases. 

You giggle and hurry toward your room, purposely leaving the door open a few inches just in case. You glance out every few seconds and see him as he takes a seat on your couch and looks around, and before you can help it, you squeal and hurry into your bathroom to do a quick bit of makeup. 

     Using Rafe’s outfit to gauge your own, you settle on a sundress and bring a sweater just in case, and with one last look in the mirror, you take a deep breath and emerge from your room. He’s still on the couch, staring at his phone screen, and when he senses your movement, his eyes dart to you. 

“Holy–” he mutters, then stops himself and stands, “Wow. I didn’t think it could get better than my shirt, but here we are.”

You laugh, “Not as comfortable as your shirt, but it’ll do.”

He smiles and takes a step forward, reaching for your hand. You give it to him and let him pull you in, his other hand resting on the small of your back. 

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs, “Out of my league for sure.”

“Shut up,” you shake your head, but your beating heart and shaky hands give you away. 

He grins and his lips meet your forehead in a soft, gentle kiss. You tip your head up, as if daring him to kiss you for real, and listen as he laughs lowly. 

“Don’t tempt me,” he mutters. 

You giggle, “Just one.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t think I could stop after just one.”

“Try,” you dare. 

He chuckles and takes one step back, leaving his hand in yours. You watch his eyes scan over you, demanding to memorize every single inch of you. As they travel back up, his expression changes slightly. When his eyes meet yours, you can tell there’s something on his mind. 

“So,” he exhales, “Why don’t you tell me about the phone call you and I had this afternoon? The one that lasted two minutes and thirty seven seconds. I seem to have forgotten what it is we talked about.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach. He checked, of course he checked. He’d never let anything you said go. You shake your head at yourself for thinking he would. 

“It was nothing,” you squeak. 

His jaw clenches at that, “Who answered my phone, Y/N?”

You sigh, knowing there’s no way out but the truth. His eyes scan your features, watching as you drop your gaze down to the floor. He squeezes your hand, as if trying to bring you back up to him, but you refuse. 

“Lindsay,” you mumble. 

He sighs and swears under his breath. You remain still, a part of you hoping he explains and another part of you hoping he doesn’t.

“You didn’t call me at four o’clock to tell me you were running late, did you?” 

You shake your head, “No.”

“You called for a different reason, then Lindsay picked up, and you tried to cancel on me, right? But she never told me. And then I show up here like an idiot—”

“Not like an idiot,” you protest immediately, looking back up at him, “I saw you and I just — I knew that it wasn’t like that. You told me to trust you, Rafe, and I do.”

You watch his throat bob as he swallows, “You do?”

“Yes,” you nod. 

He smiles at that, and you feel like you’ve won. His hand squeezes yours again, this time for a different reason. 

“Good,” he whispers, “Because Lindsay wasn’t in the house with me. She came over to see Topper. I left my phone downstairs by accident, and I guess she got a hold of it when you called. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you reply, letting out a breath of air, “I’m not mad.”

“It scared you, though,” he presses. 

You shake your head, not wanting to talk about it, then reach up with your free hand and cup his cheek. 

“How about that date you promised me?”

He grins, moving his head over in your hand so he can press a kiss to your palm. You smile at that, eyes never leaving his own. 

“Come on,” he says, tugging you closer to him by your hand. 

You follow his lead and let him guide you out of your apartment, not releasing your hand even when you have to lock up. As you walk down the hallway with him, listening to him tell you how he worried he’d knock on the wrong door — because how could you give him the right address? It would mean you actually wanted to go out with him — you think about how smitten you really are, and for once, you let your heart fall recklessly. Because if your odds are on anyone, it’s most definitely going to be Rafe Cameron. 

     The stars almost seem extra bright to you as you walk hand in hand through the streets, toward the restaurant Rafe insisted on showing you. You steal a glance up at him, hoping only for a peak at his features, to find a prideful smile gracing his lips. He catches your eye before you can look away, which only makes him laugh. 

“So,” you start, feeling your stomach twist in the way it only does when he’s around, “What is it about this place that’s so special?”

He sucks in a breath and nods, as if he expected you to ask this. You watch as he exhales then; his chest puffing out against the white button up and stretching the fabric — enough that you lose focus for a beat too long. 

Rafe laughs when he catches you, leading you to squeeze your eyes shut and pretend you hadn’t just been caught checking him out as he prepares to tell you something real. 

“I had a feeling that might come up,” he confesses, “But this is going so well. Let me tell you later.”

For one split second, you want to withdraw; analyze everything. What does that mean? What could his answer possibly be that could change this? Does he take all of his dates here? 

Then, when you glance up and see the way he softens his eyes, begging you to trust him the way you said you do, you relax. Your hand squeezes his and you nod, letting him lead you along the street. 

There aren’t too many people for a Saturday night, which surprises you. The air seems calm and you feel more than safe under Rafe’s watchful eye and firm grip. 

“Here we are,” he says softly, stopping you and nodding his head to your right. 

You take in the small, dimly lit restaurant; French doors exposing the inside to anyone who walks by. Candles are lit at every table, and everywhere you look, you see wine. Rafe presses himself against your back and releases your hand, placing his on your hip instead. Your body shivers at the way he makes every little motion so intimate, yet completely appropriate for a public setting. With his hands still on your hips, grip light, he leads you up toward the doors and reaches in front of you to pull it open. 

You walk through first, and even though you’re busy taking everything in, you notice when his hands fall from your body. Your eyes leave the extravagant glass chandelier above your head and turn back, watching Rafe slip through the door and give you a smile. 

“I’m here,” he promises you, watching you swallow and nod. 

As if to prove it, his hand meets the small of your back; his fingertips brush back and forth just enough to soothe you and assure you that he’s there. That he always will be.

You draw closer to him out of instinct as he steps forward, his voice deep and low as he tells the host his name and is met with a wide smile and a greeting. You can’t help but feel out of place, even slightly, as you glance around at the tables full of women who are used to this. 

You wonder how many of them are in the same position you used to be in; out for a night at a fancy place with a guy who doesn’t seem to care whether they’re alive or dead. How many of them smelled the perfume on him when he came to pick them up, but don’t say anything out of fear that he’ll lash out. 

“Hey,” Rafe murmurs, drawing you out of your head, “What’s going on up there?”

You loosen the tenseness in your stomach and turn to look up at him, smiling when you meet those familiar blue eyes. 

“Nothing,” you answer, “I’m just happy to be here with you.”

Even though you’re sure he doesn’t know what you mean exactly, the smile on his face is all the same to you. The host speaks instructions to follow him at the same moment Rafe’s lips meet your forehead, and when Rafe pulls back and turns you around to walk, pressing his hands to your hips the way you seem to love, you let out a blissful hum. 

You watch with a small smile as the host presents the table to you both. Rafe pulls out your chair for you, brushing his hands over your shoulders and leaning down to kiss the top of your head once you’re settled. Quickly, he steps across the table and takes his own seat, thanking the host as he passes. You’re handed a menu and listen as Rafe expertly orders a bottle of wine, relaxing in your seat when the host leaves the two of you to yourselves. 

“I was underage the last time I came here,” he confesses, “So, I have no idea if the wine is gonna be any good or not.”

You laugh and so does he. A part of you can’t believe how comfortable you feel on this first date, given nobody ever does. First dates are meant to be awkward and uncomfortable, but with Rafe, you don’t feel any of that. 

“So you’ve been coming here since you were young?” you ask. 

He nods, “I haven’t been back in a long time.”

You furrow your eyebrows and glance back at the host stand before you can help yourself, replaying the way he’d smiled at Rafe as if he was familiar somehow. 

“The host seemed like he knew you,” you reply. 

Rafe sits back in his seat, “He knew my last name. He knew my mom.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, and you instantly decide on no more questions. Instead, you set your menu down and reach for his hand, which he gives you with no hesitation. 

“Will you order for me?” you ask him. 

His grin returns, flooding relief through your body. You allow your thumb to stroke the top of his hand, which he watches with content. 

“Of course I will,” he replies, “I know just the thing.”

    You swear you must be drooling as you watch him ordering with expertise and taking care of you in ways you didn’t even know you needed. By the time your waiter leaves your table, wine and bread sitting between the two of you, you’re balancing your chin in your palm and are too busy admiring him to care about the way he laughs when he sees you. 

“What?” he questions, the slightest blush emerging on his cheeks. 

“Tell me about your sisters,” you demand softly. 

You shift your body under the table, your legs crossed over one another. You feel your sandal brush against his jeans only slightly, but you can tell he notices by the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. 

“Sarah’s a freshman at Duke,” he says, “She had a bad breakup and wanted to get away from the island for a bit. Wheezie’s in tenth grade. She wants to come to UNC. Even asked if I’d take an extra year of classes so I’d still be here when she starts out.”

You smile, “That’s so sweet.”

He grins and nods his head, “Yeah. I don’t see them as often as I’d like to, but it is what it is.”

“You’re a great older brother, I bet.”

He watches you pick up your wine glass and take a sip. He sucks in a breath and then clears his throat, tearing his eyes away from you as he picks up his own glass. You laugh lightly, watching as he tries to keep himself in check. 

“What about you?” he asks after he swallows, “Any siblings?”

“No,” you answer, “My parents somehow thought they got it right on the first try.”

He smiles, “They did.”

You sit back in your seat, rolling your eyes playfully at his remark. His grin widens at your reaction, and you feel your chest grow so tight that you grip your sweater in your lap as a lifeline. You swear you can feel it; you can feel yourself falling, deeper and faster and heavier, and there’s not a single part of you that wants to stop it. 

“All right,” he leans forward, tearing a piece of bread from the loaf in the basket and then gesturing for you to do the same, “This stuff is too good. You’ve got to try it while it’s still warm.”

You smile and sit up, copying his every movement. You tear off your own piece, then accept the butterknife he passes you after he’d buttered his own piece. 

He watches as you bite into it; as your eyes instantly close at the buttery, warm goodness that fills your mouth. He laughs through his own bite, drawing you out of your moment and laughing at yourself when you meet his eyes. 

“Wow,” you say, “That’s incredible.”

“Right?” he agrees, “It’s one of my favorite things about this place.”

You let out a laugh, “You were totally the kid who filled up on the bread and wasn’t hungry at all by the time his meal came.”

He feigns insult at that, “What gives you that impression?”

You grin and take another bite of bread, then wash it down with another sip of wine before you answer him.

“I was that kid, too,” you reply, watching him melt slowly, “I see it in you.”

He laughs once more, but you can tell by the way he looks at you that he’s pleased. When he leans forward, your foot brushes against his leg again, but you leave it there. That small point of contact proving to be enough for both of you at the moment. 

“In that case,” he whispers, “I’m having another piece.”

     Rafe ordered you Tagliatelle; a dish you’d never tried or heard of until it’s placed in front of you. He pours you more wine as you take your first bite, crumbling under the goodness of the pasta and releasing a content groan. 

He laughs lightly, “You like it?”

“Oh, my God,” you sigh, “You have to order for me everywhere, now. This is just, so—”

You shake your head, telling him you’re unable to find a word that will adequately suit how much you love what he’d gotten for you. 

“Everywhere?” he questions with a smirk, “You’ll let me take you out again?”

You lick your lips and sit up again, holding his gaze the entire time. 

“I’d love it, Rafe,” you reply. 

He smiles again — that smile that could get you to do just about anything — then glances down at his food. 

“Try mine,” he insists, already trying to construct the perfect bite for you. 

“We’ll switch,” you offer, “So you can try mine, too.”

He nods, and like experts, the two of you swap plates. He’d ordered Lobster Tagliolini for himself and watches you as you take only the noodles onto your fork. 

“You better take a piece of that lobster,” he demands. 

You laugh and do as you’re told. As soon as the food touches your tongue, you fall in love with his plate just as you fell in love with your own. He clearly feels the same way about yours, and soon, the two of you devise a plan to place half of each of your meals onto the other’s plate. 

Rafe questions you on your favorite album, and in turn, you ask him his. With much consideration, he tells you that it has to be Man on the Moon by Kid Cudi — specifically the first. You discuss your favorite foods, places you’ve traveled and want to travel to, books you’ve read, and classes you’ve taken. 

The table is cleared far before you feel satisfied with the amount you know about Rafe. You figure you might not be satisfied until you can read his mind; see every thought, every memory, and know every single one of his favorites things.

The bottle of wine is long empty by the time the waiter brings the check, but your intoxication feels as fresh as anything. Rafe takes the check smoothly, and before you can even reach for your bag, Rafe’s card is being placed and handed away again. 

“Rafe—” you move to protest, but he stops you. 

“You’re my date,” he replies simply.

You smile, requesting his hand in your once more. He gives it to you, as he always does, and brings your hand up to his lips to kiss. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, “For everything.”

“It’s completely my pleasure,” he replies. 

Once Rafe’s card is returned, he helps you up and leads you out of the restaurant. It’s cleared out significantly since you arrived, but you have no idea what time it is. Whenever you’re with Rafe, it always seems to go by faster than usual. 

Once you’re back out on the street, your hand still in Rafe’s, you take a breath of the fresh, evening air. It’s the first time in a long time that you remember appreciating a moment, even being present in one. You think about how you’ve just been surviving; doing what you need to do to get through the day. You’d never have thought the frat boy in your Global Aspects course would change your perspective on everything. 

“So,” Rafe pulls you out of your own head once again, “I think Topper has a crush on Bryn.”

“You don’t say,” you reply sarcastically. 

He laughs, “No, I mean a real crush. He’s always asking my advice every time we come into Black Boar.”

“Well, I’ve never met Topper when he’s not drunk off his ass, so I don’t think I can vouch for him.”

Rafe chuckles at that. He helps you up and into his truck once the two of you reach it, noting the goosebumps on your arms and rubbing his hands up and down your skin to warm you. You give him a smile and assume he’ll close the door, but instead, he steps onto the side bar of his truck and removes your sweater from your hands, tucking it around you carefully. 

“Better?” he asks. 

You nod, “Thank you.”

You watch carefully as he eyes your mouth, and for a long moment, you hope he gives in and kisses you right there. He swallows and shifts his jaw in his mouth, then steps down and closes your door softly. 

When he climbs into the driver's seat, you reach for his hand and he complies, letting you tangle your fingers together while he backs up. You stroke over his skin with your other hand, observing and spinning both of his rings around his fingers. He glances over at you every now and then, but you’re too wrapped up in his skin to pay much attention. 

The ride home is relatively silent, save Rafe’s favorite album playing quietly through the speakers. You feel tired, happy, and full. A part of you wants to just sleep in the truck, but you fight it off. You can sleep after Rafe’s gone, not before. 

You're too busy tracing each line of ink visible to you through his button up that you don’t even notice your arrival until Rafe’s truck shuts off and he turns to you. You’ve grasped nearly all of his right arm at this point, and he hasn’t complained once. Shyly, you release him and watch as he smiles but doesn’t move his hand a single inch. 

“Don’t,” he speaks softly, referring to your sudden shyness, “I like it.”

You return his smile and wrap your hand around his forearm once more, scratching lightly with your nails. 

“I don’t want to get out,” you confess. 

“No?” he questions, lips drifting up into a teasing smirk. 

“I like being with you, Rafe.”

His face falls; throat constricting as he swallows. You can tell you’ve done something with that statement, because all signs of teasing are gone. 

“I like being with you, too, baby.”

You smile then, squeezing his arm. He eyes your iron grip on his skin and lets himself smile, too, letting his hand flatten itself on your thigh. 

“Will you walk me up?” you ask him.

“Of course,” he replies. 

You nod and remove your hands from his arm, to which he shuts off the truck and hurries out. He gets around to your side quickly and reaches for you, letting you take his arm back in your grasp. 

He carries your bag — the one you’d forgotten about on the floor of the passenger seat — and allows you to guide him up the sidewalk and to the stairs, where you two eventually meet your apartment door. 

You turn back to face him, wanting to take him all in one last time before he leaves you. Rafe smirks and backs you up against your door, pressing himself as close to you as he can get. 

“I had so much fun tonight,” you tell him. 

He grins, “So did I. You’re great company.”

You bite down on your bottom lip before your smile can grow at that, wanting him only closer to you. 

“Will you kiss me, now?”

The smirk on his face widens, “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I said no?”

You giggle before you can help yourself; your stomach twisting when he places his hand on the door beside your head and leans in, letting you pull him in by his arm. 

He takes his time with it, brushing his nose over yours to angle you just right before he finally kisses you. Even expecting it, you swear it still knocks the wind out of you. As it’s been all night, it’s just you and him. Nobody else. 

Your grip on his arm falls and soon, both of his hands are wandering lower and lower on your back, until they settle exactly where you want them. You can feel the heat of his hands through your dress, only spurring you on. 

Rafe lets out a groan when you arch into him, silently demanding more. His left hand squeezes your flesh, begging for you to come closer. 

It isn’t until you snap the top button of his shirt open that he gains some semblance of control and pulls back, those blue eyes hazy and lustful. 

“Come in,” you say to him. 

He lets out a chuckle as you notice his puffy lips and pink cheeks. His shirt is open at the top thanks to you, and the thought of all that skin underneath — to which you’ve had the pleasure of seeing only once before — has you gasping for more air. He watches as you start to trace his tattoos with your finger through his shirt once more, realizing it calms you in a way you'd never had before.

“First date etiquette,” he replies breathlessly, “I’m supposed to kiss you goodnight. Not try to fuck you against your front door.”

You laugh, “I didn’t mind the attempt.”

He groans and leans forward to kiss you again before he can help himself, pulling back after only a few moments. 

“You,” he kisses you again, “Are a terrible influence.”

Another kiss, but this time, you tangle your fingers in his hair to try and hold him against you. He groans and pulls back with wide eyes. 

“I’m trying to be a gentleman,” he continues, yet gives in and takes another kiss, “And then you look at me like that, and I just—”

“Come in,” you repeat, gripping his bicep. 

He shuts his eyes then, sucking in air and taking a minute to compose himself. After an exhale and another moment, he shakes his head. When his eyes flutter open, you can see he’s made his decision. 

“Not tonight, baby,” he whispers.

You give in and nod your head, relaxing against the door. He leans down once more and tips your head up with his nose, grazing your lips. This kiss is different. It’s passionate and soft and sweet. When he pulls back, you’re sure you’ve melted into a puddle at his feet. 

“Thank you for dinner,” you say, your grip on him remaining firm. 

“You’re welcome,” he replies, “Can I see you soon?”

“Whenever you want,” you answer immediately. 

He grins, “Come here.”

He kisses you again, and although you lose yourself immediately, something about this one feels final. As if he knows he has to stop now or he won’t stop at all. 

When he pulls back, he releases you and steps away in one swoop. You frown, but smile when you meet his eyes. The skin on your behind burns from where his hands had been resting, and your lips feel swollen in the best way. 

“Goodnight, Rafe,” you murmur. 

He smiles, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You turn and unlock the door, then give him a wave before you escape inside. Once the door is shut behind you, you practically collapse on the floor in a daze, leaning your back against the wall and grinning wildly as you replay every detail from the evening, starting at the very beginning.

Tags:

@witchwyfe @lurkymurker @ghostselena @goldenjo @storytellingwitht @scenesofobx @itsalexwin @onmykneesforrafe @valeriiecameron @lovedetlost @mardema @girlsneedloovee @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @malums-trash-can @emotionalbruv @onenightnorth @rafecameronswhore @wanniiieeee @sarahwasfound @lilgoddesshines @abrunettefangirlnerd @absolute-fcking-chaos @jordynsharum @premixed-margarita @anonymousobxfan @samcaniglia @thisisthewayrose @iammirrorball @r0und3bitch @thesimpletype @notdisneychannel @gillybear17 @solllaris @i-is-for-inspiring @sksliz @luversgirl @maybankxw @mattyskies @booktalks @ryswritingrecord @barbietiingz @totallynotkaibiased @mannstarkey

#rafe fic #rafe cameron #rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe fluff #rafe x y/n #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron blurb #outer banks netflix #outerbanks netflix #outerbanks #outer banks

[animebw]

Your review of ONK made me wonder: If a show tries to convey a message and the viewer fails to get it, how much blame can be placed on the author and how much on the people? A person may try to explain something as clearly as possible, but there will always be someone who won't understand, so who can be blamed?

I want to clarify that this is not an attempt at a last minute defense of Aka or the series, but a genuine question that has been on my mind since reading the review.

And I apologize if the question is unclear, I'm not a native English speaker.

Oh, it's a very valid question. And not one exclusive to anime; Fight Club is a perfect example of that question. So many of its fans see it as an aspirational tale of Manly Men Rejecting Modern Society And Embracing The Masculine Tradition Of Violence, but the movie's whole point is that its characters are a bunch of loser incels turning to violence and terrorism to cope with their emasculation complex and the whole masculine glorification of violence is Bad, Actually. Is it th4e audience's fault for missing the message so profoundly because it conflicted with their preconceptions and biases? Or did the movie just not do a good enough job communicating that message and accidentally made the concept of fight club itself seem way cooler than it meant to? Genuinely hard to say.

That said, one bit of analysis I've always found really handy comes from Lindsay Ellis' video series on the Transformers movies: "Framing and aesthetics supercede the rest of the text, always, always, always." When you're working with a visual medium, what's communicated visually will always register more strongly than what's simply part of the story and dialogue (hence why "show don't tell" is such a big rule). In the case of Fight Club, you could argue that the cinematography and editing do such a good job selling the illusion of fight club as something cool and fun and desirable that the intended subversion where the movie then goes "Psych! These people are all losers" in the final act doesn't register as strongly. In the case of anime, it's why your standard fanservice package does such a disservice to female characters; no matter how well written or interesting they might be, if they're constantly framed tits and ass first, that's how the audience will primarily remember them.

And don't get me started on Attack on Titan, which is basically Fight Club's issue stretched across almost a hundred episodes. You spend the first half of the series basically force-fed in-universe fascist propaganda that gives you a biased perspective on what's really going on, only for the curtain to pull back in the second half and force you to confront the grim reality the first half purposefully hid from you. It puts you in the same place as the characters, forced to re-evaluate everything you though you knew and realize just how easily you were taken in by lies and genocidal rhetoric spread by this world's version of the Nazis. But because the first half of the series was so effective at selling you on that rhetoric with its orgasmically violent action and rousing speeches set to epic music, a bunch of fans never grew out of it and continued beating the drums of fascism even as the series turned around and started ripping apart the very ideals it was once holding up. Which is how you end up with a bunch of unironic Eren Yeager stans cheering for him to literally destroy the world because they think he's some kind of based uberchad instead of a fundamentally broken shell of a man running on hate-fueled exhaust fumes until he burns himself down to nothing in his inability to escape the cycle of violence he's become ensnared in. Because that was the story they were trained to expect, and they refused to budge when the other shoes started dropping.

Now, that doesn't really apply to Oshi no Ko since its issues are all primarily text-based, not visual-based. But it's a useful bit of critical thinking that informs a lot of the way I look at media. In a visual medium, visuals always hit harder and leave a stronger impact than words alone, for better or worse.

#anime #tabw #tabw q+a #the anime binge watcher #oshi no ko

[fvrstxresponsexarchived]

Ashley worked in the 911 call center for the city of Chicago and was a volunteer EMT. She also happened to live in the same building that Jay Halstead, a Chicago city cop, lived. When she’d first moved in, they would pass each other in the hall and she heard his voice on the radio. But eventually they became friends and would hang out outside of work, and Ashley slowly developed a crush. Now here it was seven years later, but she hadn’t said anything, afraid he wouldn’t feel the same. She’d seen the way he looked at Erin Lindsay, and she figured she’d never see her as anything other than a friend. So she was content to have him in her life as her best friend rather than say something and lose him forever.

Jay woke up to a long text from Lindsay saying that she was leaving town and that things were over between the two of them. He sat up and frowned as he read over the message a few times. She apologized and said she had to leave Chicago. Jay wasn't thrilled to hear about that but he understood and he'd let her do what she needed to do. He was terrible at good byes so he made it a thing not to say goodbye.

He was distracted most of the week. And it was beginning to be painfully obvious that it was because of Erin leaving and the sudden break up. Jay sat at the bar at Molly's later on that night. He was sipping on his beer and just staring off into space, rudely ignoring his company. "I'm sorry. I've been super distracted all week long. I'm sucky company right now." He sighs.

#halstead jay;;

[is-it-mungojerry-or-rumpelteazer]

Why I dislike the LotR movies

A few weeks months ago @acaseofsilverspoons​ asked me why I say I hate the Lord of the Rings movies, and I promised I would try to give an explanation. Sorry for the delay, I have a lot of thoughts and it has taken a bit of time to order them in my head and then I forgot about this draft.

Movie people following the newsletter: stop reading now. I am going to spoil the hell out of it. And even if you don’t care about spoilers, if you like the movies you’re probably going to get defensive and enjoy the novels less because of it. I don’t want to be the reason you enjoy Tolkien less. Come back once you’re done reading, I’ll be happy to discuss then!! ^^

Disclaimer: I haven’t watched the movies. I have a very weak visual imagination and I hated the design of the elves on sight, so I decided to avoid getting them as my default elves; and I react very badly to peer pressure, which means the more people tell me I need to watch them the least I want to. I still think I have enough information to base my opinions, but well. There you go. Can't tell me I lied to you.

The first, and main reason, I “hate” the LotR movies is very well summarized by this strip of the webcomic Weregeek.

The movies are good enough, and good enough adaptations, and enough of a cultural milestone, that people talk of them as if the movies and the novels were interchangeable. Tolkien was never exactly obscure, and it’s not like people are at risk of forgetting the novels exist, but a lot of people have seen the movies but will never read the books, and even people who are into the genre will read the novel after seeing the movies. So you have people who have only experienced the movies thinking they know all that there is to know, and people who have experienced both getting to the novel with the preconceptions of the movies (see all the people analyzing Frodo’s actions as effects of the Ring from day 1 in the newsletter, or people immediately assuming book!Denethor is an abusive parent... we’ll come back to that). I’ve heard people say “don’t worry about reading the novels, the movies are enough”. And they are NOT. They are very much NOT. Even if you think every single choice in the movies is justified and good, there were a lot of choices made. They’re not equivalent.

Let me expand on that under a Read More because believe me, this is going to get long.

Let’s start with the themes.

First of all: Lord of the Rings is not an action story. If anything, it is an anti-war novel. Even though most characters admit that violence is sometimes necessary, almost universally it is considered a necessary evil. We have Faramir, the closest to a Moral Compass Man we have, literally spelling that he doesn’t like war for itself, but only for what it defends. And the narration mirrors this: except for the Battle of Helm’s Deep, every battle is either skipped over (the Black Gate), told in retrospect (Isengard) or interspersed with sections about the grief it brings (Pelennor). And in all cases, we end them with lengthy descriptions of the people that died and the grief they caused. It’s hard to finish the novel going “oh, the battle of Pelennor was awesome! I wish there were more!” when the last thing you hear about it is three pages of obituaries. In contrast, the movies fall into the trap of wanting to utilize their shiny new technology and their great visuals for battle scenes, and end up making battles cool. I have lost count of the dudebros whose take on the LotR movies was “weren’t the battles awesome???”. And before you come for me with “but the text says”, to quote Lindsay Ellis, movies are a visual medium. If you make the battles the most visually appealing and fun part of your movie to watch, you can have characters have unending monologues about how bad war is, that’s not the message people are going to get from it. And if you make a LotR adaptation whose message is “war is cool and fun”, you’ve missed the mark by a mile.

Secondly, another big theme about Lord of the Rings is that in the end, it’s the small people that make the difference, and that noone wins alone. To quote Elrond, “you may find friends upon your way when you least look for it”. But the movies, in their (reasonable) quest to streamline the story to fit a movie runtime, choose to prioritize the more classically heroic characters and arcs, sacrificing the small people for the big flashy kings and warriors. Pippin and Merry’s contributions get pushed to the side, while Aragorn not only retains all his original plotpoints, but even gets a shiny new subplot that was only in the appendixes in the novel. And also everyone who isn’t a member of the Fellowship (and not even that.. we’ll get back to Gimli) gets their role changed to make the actions of our heroes more necessary. Théoden is under a literal spell that needs to be lifted by Gandalf, and has to be told how to do war by Aragorn; the Ents decide not to attack Isengard and have to be reminded of the stakes by the hobbits; Denethor is such an incompetent nutjob that Gandalf can hit him in front of his guards and nobody cares. I understand the urge to make the main characters more important,, but LotR has a very strong feel of people in the same danger uniting to fight together instead of fending for themselves; this way, the secondary characters feel less like allies and more like sidequests.

And that gives me a nice segue into another, less important but more annoying issue: the characters.

Noone who follows my tumblr will be surprised to discover that Pippin and Merry, especially Pippin, are my favourite characters. If you asked me to tell you what are my favourite scenes in the book, which parts I’ve re-read the most often, they would be A Conspiracy Unmasked, P&M’s meeting with Treebeard, Éowyn’s monologue, the passage with Pippin and Bergil, and The Scouring of the Shire. Do I need to explain more? Except for Treebeard and Éowyn, none of these scenes made it into the movie. Which is a crime against me, personally. But apart from being annoying to me because I like them, it also means that their entire character arcs (again, especially Pippin’s) completely disappear. Pippin has the most traditional coming-of-age story in the novel: he’s a teenager dragged in an adventure bigger than he expected who has to grow up and learn that the world is bigger than he ever imagined and some things are important, and who then comes back home all grown up and ready to fend for himself. By cutting both A Conspiracy Unmasked and The Scouring of the Shire, you cut both the setup and the payoff of his arc, and by aging up the actor playing the character, you turn him from a learning teenager to a bumbling adult. Is it important in the grand scheme of things? Not really; but every time I see a meme about how Pippin is an idiot I feel like punching a wall.

Denethor. I didn’t know it was possible to be this offended on behalf of a character I don’t even particularly like. When I first looked up Denethor meta I thought I had slipped into a parallel dimension for a while, until I discovered it was just that Peter Jackson had performed a little character assassination of his own. Book!Denethor is not a nice or an endearing character, but he’s not an easily hateable one either. He’s the leader of a country in perpetual war against an enemy way stronger than they are (he has probably been born already under the Shadow of Mordor, knowing he would have to lead his people against it since he was a kid). He is cold, and calculating, and shrewd, and he has sacrificed his humanity (and his family) in order to make the decisions he thinks need to be made. To put it bluntly, he’s a character type who would be a good (and successful!) guy in Game of Thrones. But because he is in a story whose core themes are empathy and friendship and compassion, he’s a tragic figure: when the grief of the sacrifices he was willing to make hits him, he has nothing and noone to lean on, and he breaks. From everything I’ve seen, Peter Jackson has decided to take his character in a more “abusive father” direction. And look, I’m not going to say book!Denethor was a good parent. He was not. But he didn’t just “love Boromir and hate Faramir”. It’s more complicated than that. He was sure of Boromir’s loyalty, while he feared that in a conflict situation, Faramir would side with Gandalf and not him. And as a general, that is a big concern. Also, from everything I’ve read, movie!Denethor’s military tactics are whack from day one, which kind of diminishes his characterization as a cold but effective general. But that might just be a question of filmmakers not understanding medieval military methods, which... fair, I guess. On a related note, what’s that about a scene of him eating a tomato?? Did they really give him a scene explicitly designed to be disgusting and unrelatable?? The quest to make Denethor more hateable, though, is not only a problem because of his character. His character choices bleed onto others. In particular, Boromir, Faramir and Pippin. If Denethor is an abusive nutjob, why is Pippin drawn to swear loyalty to him? Is he an idiot?? Boromir comes off as the favoured child in an abusive household. But the worst is Faramir. A few weeks ago someone who is movie-only described him to me as “Faramir is the brother of Boromir that is hated by his dad, right?”. And I don’t think I can explain my reaction to Faramir, fucking Faramir, being reduced to a wet blanket who looks very sad and does nothing while his dad walks all over him. Just give me that gif of a guy screaming into a pillow.

And lastly on the “character assassination” column, Gimli. I think I’ll leave @carlandrea​ take the mic on this one, they can say more than I could possibly, and better. All I’m going to say is that, from everything I’ve seen, the movies take one of the more well-spoken, dignified characters, and made him into a bumbling, crass comic relief who fits closer to a D&D parody dwarf than anything Tolkien ever wrote.

And now, let me end with some quick-fire complaints that wouldn’t be important if the ones above hadn’t happened.

What happened with the male elves’ design?? I understand holding a casting for “otherworldly beautiful men” is not doable, but why do they look like that?? And it’s not that they can’t do elves, Galadriel and Arwen look good! Were they scared to make them “look gay” if they were too pretty?? If that’s the case, why didn’t they lean into the “otherwordly” part of it and made them alien-looking? WoW elves look more interesting than that!!

Also, I need to have a serious talk with the wig department. Why do the elves’ wigs have no volume?? Why do they look limp and dead? Why is Elrond balding? What’s going on here??

While we’re on the topic of character designs, it’s a pet peeve of mine that the hobbits only have hair on the top of their feet. It looks more decorative than anything and I don’t like it.

Last complaint about the character designs, I promise: this is not a criticism of Elijah Wood’s acting. I have never seen him act, I couldn’t say. But Frodo is supposed to be a middle-aged gentlehobbit. Why is he played by a 20 year old skinny guy who looked like a teenager?? Why is Frodo not fat?? On that note, why is Sam the only fat hobbit? They are hobbits! They are defined by ruddy cheeks and round bellies!! Did the producers think a middle-aged fat protagonist would be too much for an audience to swallow??

I’m not sure if I got this right, but I think in the movies Arwen’s life is tied to Aragorn taking his throne?? Because if that’s true, wow, way to make her into a more active character in the beginning only to tie her entire existence to a male character’s story arc!

And while we’re on the subject of stuff I suspect but I’m not sure of, I’ve seen enough Éowyn takes with the same uncanny valley feel as Denethor’s to suspect they did something to her character. And if they turned her into a Hollywood Strong Female Character Who Don’t Need No Man (TM) I will bite someone.

Lastly on this category, I am very confused about the elves from Lórien who apparently appear randomly at Helm’s Deep. Is Lórien not being attacked in this version of events (again, reinforcing the idea that everything revolves around the main characters)? Where do they go after the battle? Did they come for two days and then go back to Lórien? That sounds like a stupid plan... And also, you are aware the Rohirrim are super fucking distrustful of elves, right, PJ? How the hell did Aragorn convince Théoden and Éomer to let a battalion of elves into the Helm??

If you’ve gotten all the way here, thank you so much! It got longer than I expected, which was already very long, so thank you for bearing with me! I am willing to discuss and debate all of these, as long as it is civil.

#lord of the rings #text posts #My Opinions #long posts #meta analysis #lord of the rings movies #is-it-mungojerry hates on the LotR movies #pippin took #merry brandybuck #denethor #faramir #gimli #frodo baggins #Arwen #Éowyn #elves #movie adaptations #adaptations #weregeek #lotr newsletter spoilers

[kp777]

By Jessica Corbett

Common Dreams

May 7, 2024

The Groundwork Collaborative's leader also said that "the Department of Justice should criminally prosecute Scott Sheffield," the former Pioneer CEO whom the FTC blocked from joining ExxonMobil's board.

Groundwork Collaborative executive director Lindsay Owens on Tuesday responded to U.S. government allegations of fossil fuel industry price fixing with calls for federal prosecution and congressional action to return money to the American public.

"Americans have been working harder and harder to cover rising energy costs, with the understanding that supply chain snags and geopolitical forces were keeping prices high," Owens said. "Now the Federal Trade Commission has uncovered the real source behind the price at the pump: collusion."

"The Department of Justice should criminally prosecute Scott Sheffield and Congress should tax back the industry's windfall profits and issue every American a refund," she added, referring to Pioneer Natural Resources' founder and longtime CEO.

Owens' statement came after members of the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) declined to contest ExxonMobil's controversial $64.5 billion acquisition of Pioneer—which was completed Friday—but approved a consent order barring Sheffield from serving on Exxon's board of directors or as an adviser to the fossil fuel giant.

"This complaint is a wake-up call about the dangerous consolidation of Big Oil's economic and political power."

The FTC voted 3-2 to accept the order and place related documents on the record for public comment. Citing communications including in-person meetings, public statements, text messages, and WhatsApp conversations, a commission complaint accuses Sheffield of trying to collude with the representatives of the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) and OPEC+.

"Mr. Sheffield's past conduct makes it crystal clear that he should be nowhere near Exxon's boardroom. American consumers shouldn't pay unfair prices at the pump simply to pad a corporate executive's pocketbook," said Kyle Mach, deputy director of the FTC's Bureau of Competition. "The FTC will remain vigilant in its enforcement efforts to protect competition in these vital markets."

Pioneer toldFortune that the company and its founder "believe that the FTC's complaint reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of the U.S. and global oil markets and misreads the nature and intent of Mr. Sheffield's actions," but neither party would take "any steps to prevent the merger from closing."

ExxonMobil "learned of the FTC's allegations regarding Sheffield from the agency and said in a statement that they are 'entirely inconsistent with how we do business,'" according to Fortune. "Exxon has agreed to the terms of the consent decree," which also "prohibits the oil giant from appointing any Pioneer employee or director to its board for five years."

Still, since the FTC's allegations were initially reported by The Wall Street Journal last week and then confirmed with the complaint's release, demands for additional action by the U.S. Department of Justice (DOJ) and Congress have mounted.

Cassidy DiPaola, Fossil Free Media's director of communications, on Monday called the complaint "explosive" and said that Democrats "must respond with bold action to hold this rogue industry accountable," including:

Aggressive congressional and DOJ investigations into the full extent of Big Oil's price fixing;

A windfall profits tax to claw back ill-gotten gains; and

End taxpayer subsidies for oil and gas.

"But accountability is just the first step. This complaint is a wake-up call about the dangerous consolidation of Big Oil's economic and political power. We can't let them use megamergers to entrench their control and crush clean energy competition," she stressed. "Ultimately, this is about the future we choose: One where we remain at the mercy of Big Oil's greed and destruction, or one where clean, democratically controlled energy powers our communities. It's time to make the right choice."

In response to the Journal's reporting, Tyson Slocum, director of Public Citizen's Energy Program, similarly said that "Congress must immediately hold hearings on Big Oil's alleged collusion with OPEC to raise gasoline prices for Americans."

"Congress must not only investigate Pioneer's alleged role in conspiring with OPEC, but whether there existed a broader conspiracy by U.S. oil companies to collude with OPEC nations," he argued. "Big Oil must be held accountable for any conspiracy by or among American oil companies and OPEC members."

The reporting was notably published on the same day as the U.S. Senate Budget Committee's hearing about a nearly three-year investigation into fossil fuel companies and trade groups' decadeslong "campaign of deception and distraction," which has evolved from denying the planet-heating impact of their products to pretending to be part of the solution to the climate emergency.

"The joint report and documents we discovered show how, time and again, the biggest oil and gas corporations say one thing for the purposes of public consumption but do something completely different to protect their profits," Rep. Jamie Raskin (D-Md.), the ranking member on the House Oversight Committee, testified during the hearing. "Company officials will admit the terrifying reality of their business model behind closed doors but say something entirely different, false, and soothing to the public."

#groundwork collaborative #public citizen #scott sheffield #doj #ftc #big oil #oil and gas industry #fossil fuels #windfall profits tax #gas prices #price fixing

[naomisnews]

I understand why people hate the Metatron (trust me, I do too), but are we forgetting who the real villain of Good Omens Season 2 was?

LINDSAY, aka, Nina’s toxic ex!

Firstly, establishing that they hate Nina being late, then instead of worrying about her when Nina can’t answer the phone (thanks to Crowley’s lightning outburst), they start berating her and talking about “we agreed about mutual respect!”

Then Nina mentions that Lindsay thinks Nina is having an affair behind their back which we all know isn’t true but it seems like they won’t take Nina’s explanation, as well as Nina getting messages from her about how she is “self-centred” and has no respect

Finally, Lindsay just up and leaves Nina, breaking up with her via text and being very passive aggressive in their messages.

Like, I’m sorry, that kind of toxic bullshit needs to be called out and hated just as much as Metatron!

#good omens #good omens fandom #ineffable wives #good omens nina #good omens 2

[ladycatryx]

In Defense of Harry Potter

If you or someone you love is a trans person in crisis: The Trevor Project‘s 24/7/365 Lifeline [US]: 866-488-7386 Trans Lifeline [US]: 877-565-8860 TrevorChat, (online instant messaging option) International Support: TrevorSpace

I minored in Gender Studies for both my Bachelor's and Master's. I have a bookshelf full of queer theory. I have several trans friends.

And I went to a Harry Potter themed party the other day.

Like many of my fellow 90s kids, I grew up reading Harry Potter. It was an era-defining feature of my adolescence, eagerly anticipating book releases and midnight movie theatre screenings. But unlike many of my peers, it is not merely a feature of my past. I still regularly read and write Harry Potter fanfiction. I have beautiful art books and unofficial compendiums chock-full of lore and behind-the-scenes details. I am a HP trivia wizard---or witch, as the case may be. I have so much investment into the lore and the world of Harry Potter, and I often find myself in Hogwarts and the surrounding Highlands in my dreams---even moreso now that Hogwarts Legacy has given us a first-person and 3D experience of the layout and landscape of the Wizarding World. So I relished the chance to don my Slytherin robes and get all dressed up in character. The pictures turned out great. But I couldn't post them on any of my social media. I have been told, in no uncertain terms, that anyone who continues to support or engage with the Harry Potter franchise is a TERF and a fascist. Full stop. To quote one of my friends, "I don't interact with Harry Potter media anymore. And frankly I treat any interest in it as a sign of transphobia for my own safety. So I really don't care to know much about the [Hogwarts Legacy] game aside from the disgusting blood libel it chose to use in it's narrative. It's a hard line for me as a trans person."

It's a controversial topic, to be sure. Now I absolutely hate cancel culture's tendency to drag something someone said 10 years ago into the spotlight and blow it out of proportion, even sometimes taking it out of its original context to spin it as a bad actor with bad intentions, and then to deny people the ability to apologize or acknowledge personal growth (see: what happened to Lindsay Ellis. Thanks, I hate it). But let's be clear: that's not the case here. JKR has only dug herself deeper into the hole, being belligerently and purposefully ignorant and cruel despite a PR team probably begging her to shut up, and despite an entire world of people who have attempted to teach her better. She has acted, and continues to act, in bad faith, even writing trans and queer-coded villains and serial killers into her latest books. This is not a person who has attempted to apologize and make right her wrongs when they've been pointed out. This is someone who has been given every opportunity to not be an awful person and instead has doubled down on her hurtful and hateful views.

So, now that we know JKR's true colors, clearly the entire world of Harry Potter is suspect, as is anyone who continues to enjoy it....right? Sure, maybe not everyone who still rocks their House Pride merch is a TERF, but, like the sandwich-eaters of Chick-fil-A who just need their chicken fix, they certainly can't be counted as allies....right?

I've struggled with this.

And maybe this entire blog post will be read as nothing more than a selfish person defending their right to enjoy a thing guilt-free in order to conveniently overlook or dismiss the harm they're doing by persisting in centering their nostalgia over the real-life danger JKR's views presents to trans people. You can be the judge of that, I suppose.

My impulse since all of this has been to lean into "death of the author," an argument that says, essentially, it is not authorial intent that matters for meaning, but the text itself that is authoritative. In theory, the text can speak for itself, and the way readers engage with it and interpret it can stand in isolation from whatever meaning was meant by the author. (For an excellent video on this subject, click here, and here for a JKR-specific one). But I'd like to expand on that here, because 1) as the links above point out, engaging with the work of a living author still empowers them and gives them a platform and 2) is usually just an emotional response to silo oneself from the guilt of consuming the content of a problematic creator. In other words, it's a cop-out.

But I'm a sociologist. I'm currently an ABD Ph.D. student. I specialize in theory, gender, religion, and culture---the latter is just an elaborate system of signs and symbols that we are embedded in and have to make meaning out of. And meaning-making is a messy business. Interpretation is a vital and integral part of meaning-making. Messages aren't just handed down from the heavens and absorbed---social actors are actively engaged in the process of receiving them. Sometimes there are interferences, misunderstandings, and mixed signals that scramble the meaning. Intent does not equal impact, and so the messages we receive and understand do not always correspond to the meaning that was meant. (Again, not saying JKR is misunderstood or that we're misreading her intentions here---she's pretty unequivocally awful. But I am saying that in a world where meaning is what we make it, a trash person can still produce something of value, since beauty is in the eye of the beholder.)

Sometimes reading a meaning other than that which was meant into something can have humorous consequences. Sometimes the results are disastrous. Sometimes it means that we humans, as pattern-seeking creatures, see the face of Jesus on a slice of toast, or a baby-shaped cloud in the sky the same week we find out a loved one is pregnant. I think the fact that we can make meaning where there is none and make beauty out of nothing is spectacular, miraculous. In this age of disenchantment, many people are looking for ways to reconnect and reenchant their lives, to create sacred rituals out of their mundane routines. We are meaning-seeking creatures, and with many people feeling burned by, disillusioned with, or distrustful of traditional religion, we are turning to nontraditional sources of wisdom and inspiration. For literal millions of people, the Harry Potter books have been one such source. And I think there is value to them still, despite what has come to light about their author.

In college, I was heavily involved in interfaith activism. I no longer identify as Christian, but I was raised Christian. And I started to feel the parallels from my own experience.

If a person has been hurt by a Christian, feels Christianity is toxic, identifies passages in the Bible that have been used to oppress or were the product of a time that was openly endorsing of slavery, homophobia, misogyny, etc...their experience is valid. They have a right to say "Hey, I was raised with this thing and at one point it meant a lot to me (or maybe not, maybe it was always forced) but it hurt me and I no longer feel comfortable there and I choose not to engage with Christianity anymore." They have a right to be wary if they hear someone is Christian and they don't know anything else about that person.

But no religion is a monolith. The Bible is not a monolith. For every passage that may be hurtful or harmful or be interpreted in bad faith to support a particular agenda, there are dozens more about love, kindness, and compassion. Religion has been the driving force behind so many wars and evils...but it has inspired countless good as well. The Bible has been wielded as a weapon to cause suffering as well as been looked to as a resource of hope and peace.

I'm not saying that cancelling someone for resonating deeply with the Harry Potter series and not wanting to give it up because of what it means to them is like asking someone to not be a Christian or to give up their faith so as not to offend others. Of course, the comparison seems flippant. Religion is religion! We give it special legal protections because of its literally sacred status. It concerns matters of ultimate importance. The other is...fiction.

But what is sacred is a social construction. I'm going to bracket here any discussion about the existence or nonexistence of deities, an afterlife, and etc. What does religion actually do for people? What does it mean in the lives of the faithful? It is a source of comfort. Of hope. Of inspiration. Of answers. It can be a moral guide, with lessons and instruction and a guide for how to live that others can model their own lives on.

Casper ter Kuile, cofounder of the podcast Harry Potter and the Sacred Text, (check out their values statement if you want to know where they stand---spoiler alert, they're as progressive as it gets) would not find the comparison ridiculous. In fact, ter Kuile (who is, by the way, a gay man) founded the project with a fellow student while at Harvard Divinity School. In his book The Power of Ritual (2020) he talks about how the HP books have been a source of solace and inspiration and sacred reflection for him---and not just for him, but for thousands. Millions.

"Millions of readers already treated the Potter books as sacred in their own way. Therapists and counselors report young people using Hogwarts as their psychological safe space to go to in times of struggle and pain. And it isn't simply a refuge from the world. The Harry Potter Alliance, founded in 2005, has mobilized thousands around the country to act on marriage equality, fair-trade chocolate, and other progressive issues, using the narratives and rituals from the books to motivate and shape winning campaigns. Just as social justice movements have reinterpreted biblical narratives like the Exodus story and quoted the psalms, so too the Harry Potter Alliance references characters and plotlines from the wizarding world to motivate readers into action" (2020:44-45).

The HP books have helped people (and kids) cope with the loss of loved ones, understand privilege, learn that adults, authority figures, and even the government that makes the laws can lie and be corrupted and may not always have one's best interests at heart. That what is legal is not necessarily right or just. That evil doesn't just look like pale, snake-faced men who attempt to murder babies---sometimes it's enough for people in power to do nothing, to care more about maintaining their own relative privilege, power, and comfort. That often bullies lash out because they too have been hurt, and that hate can be easier to speak than love when it's all that you know...but that in the end, it is our choices that matter, not our abilities or the circumstances of our birth. The books have powerful messages, and they have nuance.

Take, for example, Petunia Dursley. As ter Kuile points out, universally disliked. But:

"As Vanessa and I reread that first chapter, we saw a young woman, unsupported in motherhood, suddenly given a second infant to care for after the death of her sister. Imposed on by a world she has always envied and feared, with no explanation, she feels vulnerable to a society that can only spell danger. No doubt, Petunia is abusive to Harry. She neglects him in the most foundational years of his life. But this sacred reading illustrated that narratives of good and evil nearly always are more complex when we risk our hearts to explore a sacred reading. It not only gave me a new lens for understanding a character, but it challenged me to realize I'd let the polarizing news narratives construct simplistic binaries of innocence and guilt" (2020:49).

The books aren't perfect. Even the messages JKR wrote into the books aren't all good, even if many are. Many people despise Dumbledore despite the twinkle in his eye and his many wise sayings for the way he used Harry like a pawn, like a tool---keeping him in the dark and just getting him to survive long enough to get him to die at the right time. By putting him in danger year after year, putting responsibility on his shoulders that no child should ever have to bear. For thinking that there would ever be an acceptable reason to leave him in the care of abusers, blood or no, magical love ward or no. And I love fanfiction because this messiness is explored and unpacked.

And yet, in canon, this jock who married his high school girlfriend and became a cop named his son after that guy and the incel who lusted after his mom man who tormented him and his schoolmates for years (I do love Snape as a literary character though, speaking of nuance...) instead of, oh, Remus, Rubeus, Arthur...y'know, any of the other men that were actually decent father figures to him in his life.

And yes, there are some heinous things in the book, like giving the Asian character the name Cho Chang and the Black man the name Shacklebolt. The antisemitism of the way goblins are portrayed: big-nosed, greedy, and money-hungry. And don't get me started on the fucking shofar. It has become trendy to shit on the books and other related IP, even to the point of ridiculousness. (Case in point: the uproar over the inclusion of a trans character in Hogwarts Legacy. And not from TERFs, but from the progressive community. At first I didn't understand---performative allyship? Surely her inclusion, and the ability to make trans characters in the character create, is better than the alternative, right? Apparently, it's her name that's the issue: Sirona Ryan. I had to actually look up why people were mad because again, I didn't get it. Evidently, people took issue with the "Sir" and the "Ryan," arguing that two such masculine-sounding elements on a trans woman's name was the equivalent of naming her "Penis McMan." Yes, really. Guess we better tell Serena Williams she's canceled too for perpetuating the "Black women athletes are too muscular and masculinized" stereotype). Anyway, it's been a dogpile lately to point out the plot holes and the poor world-building. And I admit, fanfiction authors often wield some amazing transformative alchemy, building on some of the half-assed parts of the lore and magic system and turning it into something far superior to what is canon. Nevertheless, it is reductive and revisionist history to portray the books as something other than the international bestsellers that they are. They are not the most amazing, brilliant things ever written, and yes, there are series out there that deserve the fame and attention and accolades that the Harry Potter series got. But nor are the HP books terrible derivative drivel that suddenly everyone wants to portray them as. In reality, they're a mixed bag.

What they undeniably are is important to people.

People read sacred texts because:

"the thousands of years in which generations have engaged these texts is something we need to pay attention to; and that we can step into a continuous stream of conversation between the text and human beings that has lasted centuries" (The Power of Ritual 2020:38).

There are nuggets of wisdom and timeless truths to be found, even in fiction. There is nostalgia for those of us who literally grew up with these characters, being of a similar age to Harry, Ron, and Hermione as we first read the books. The HP series is fairly unique in being both culturally relevant---a pop culture touchstone (I can't recall ever attending themed midnight release parties at a bookstore for any other series)---and possessing of longevity. The HP generation is passing the books along to their kids now. It connects generations in a way not many other franchises do. Star Wars and Lord of the Rings are the only other ones that come to my mind at the moment.

JKR is a TERF (which is not a slur, incidentally). Unapologetic. An awful person, certainly.

But I've seen people call her evil.

We can debate the meaning of the term, certainly. Evil itself is not black and white---her own books taught me that. If someone is evil, can anything they produce contain some good? Or is it irreparably tainted? Can someone be evil and still donate millions of pounds to charities for the homeless and victims of domestic violence? Could an evil person be capable of writing such emotionally deep and nuanced characters?

I think we are all capable of great evil and great good. Again, I'm not advocating for forgiveness or redemption here---she's done nothing to earn such goodwill. I don't support her.

But I think there are ethical ways to continue to engage in and enjoy the franchise. Don't buy officially licensed merch---but the fan-made stuff on Etsy labeled "Red House" or "Magical School Badger House" I find fair game. Buy your copy of Hogwarts Legacy used, or borrow from a friend. (Personally, I'm pessimistic enough to think that there's nothing I personally can or can't do that will financially impact her in any meaningful way...throwing away all my HP merch and not buying the $7 Slytherin slipper socks at BoxLunch isn't going to make a dent. It's up to the major companies and corporations that have partnered with her in the past to license Harry Potter-themed merch to roll back their association, and for production studios and actors to refuse to associate with the franchise. That's what she'll notice and care about. But I digress.)

On a personal level, I find deep psychological satisfaction from identifying as a Slytherin. (I'm also that bitch who is way too into her MBTI archetype and knows her rising sign and other obscure details of her natal chart, so sue me.) Just the other day, I got into an argument with my partner, who accused me of employing leading questions to get information about his mental state and plans for the day---he prefers directness, I find subtlety to be much more polite. We speak different languages. That's not the point. The point is, he felt manipulated, and even though he knows me well enough to know it wasn't out of any malicious intent, it felt slimy to him. From my perspective, my approach comes from a history of emotional abuse from my father, who has Borderline Personality Disorder and a host of other mental illnesses I inherited (yay, trauma!) In other words, it's a survival tactic. (Self-preservation: also a Slytherin trait.) I had to learn to prioritize myself from a very young age to avoid being taken advantage of. To some, that may sound selfish. For me, it was survival. And the word "manipulation" gets a bad rap, but it literally means "to handle or control (a tool, mechanism, etc.), typically in a skillful manner." That isn't necessarily sinister or done with bad intentions. It's strategic. It's smart. It's what emotionally aware humans have evolved to do as social animals. We don't talk about manipulating tools as shady behavior. It's an asset, this ability.

Maybe that's my ambition speaking. But I wouldn't be where I am today---working hard to earn my Ph.D., having already earned a Master's Degree from a highly prestigious institution, having graduated summa cum laude with research honors at my previous university---without ambition. But I do understand that people distrust sly, slippery, cunning people. But Coyote is a culture hero, I don't abide by the maligning of snakes and serpents, and I'm a Prometheus/Lucifer apologist. People may not find their methods entirely honorable, but you can't argue with the results being for the greatest good. Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends. It all fits, and it's a label that allows me to understand myself and my motivations and priorities better.

If you've been hurt and betrayed by JKR and can no longer find solace in a world that was once a source of comfort for you, I grieve that with you. I understand, and I'm sorry. No one should be forced to engage with something they find tainted and harmful, and everyone must draw that line for themselves. But I think there are ethical ways to continue to enjoy and engage with a franchise that has been a source of joy and inspiration for so many, including those within the LGB+TGNC community. The text even lends itself to queer, subversive, progressive, and action-oriented readings, which is the sweetest form of reclaiming and empowerment, and which the queer community has a long history of---appropriating the hurtful and harmful and transforming it into something playful and prideful. Queer folx are the original alchemists.

It's an egregore now, especially the fanon version of the Wizarding World. It's the collective product of millions of people loving and investing in these characters and their world. It has taken on a life of its own, independent of its creator. And like Lucifer, like humankind, it can defy the will and designs of its master and break away. It's expanded beyond her. She may have built the framework of the house, but we grew up there. We furnished it. And we can return to move things around and play in it from time to time. Some of us never left. I won't give that up because I've been made to feel I have to.

Oh, and that Harry Potter themed party? It was held at a business that is an unofficial hub for the local queer community. A portion of the proceeds went to a local LGBTQ charity, and there were several trans people in attendance. And we all had a fabulous time.

#harry potter #jk rowling #fuck jkr #harry potter and the sacred text #casper ter kuile #sacred texts #hogwarts legacy #controversial #death of the author #sociology #religion

[harryandmeghansussex]

EPISODE 1.

Nice disclaimer that all interviews were complete August 2022 aka pre his Granny's passing.

"Members of the Royal Family declined to comment on the content within this series”

Opening with H march 2020 is a powerful choice too, before going to Meghan in Canada with H in London.

"I just really want to get to the other side of all of this" 💔

This feels more about the media than personal about the family, which many of us had presumed honestly.

The tiny glimpses of the children in general with no real focus on them is a sweet touch.

Lolololololol at H&M being shown the clip of Meghan being asked William or Harry. "Honey, I'm sorry. of course I'd choose you."

"I think this love story is only just getting started"

The ~why did you want to make this documentary?~ I think is such an important question and one I'm glad got asked early on.

That shot of H with Archie, the pure contentment in Harry's eyes. Oh those children have been a big part of his healing.

Harry talking about consent in regards to the child is an interesting one, especially as a child who grew up very visible and clearly choice were made for him that he historically hasn't agreed with.

I'm going to have to go through just to see all the photos again.

Meghan making the point people have written books about her that she doesn't know, doesn't it make more sense to hear from them.

Lindsay! Talking about their summer of freedom, when she then met Harry.

"And then came H. Talk about a plot twist."

They met on Instagram! Via a friend's video

She didn't know who Prince Haz was, so asked if she could see his feed. Which we got to see a glimpse of. She didn't googled him, she scrolled his feed. That's how you see someone, not what people say about them on Google.

Nice to see so many of Meghan's friends, for the girl the media has loved to claim doesn't have any.

The re-enacted text messages is a good touch.

H being late on their first day lolololololol and his face at her talking. She has his full attention always.

Having dinner the following night, and Meghan was late! Harry laughing at how flustered she was.

"you can be as late as you want, I'm not moving. I want to see you again." Oh H 😍

Meghan talking about that one photo, her smile.

Meghan mocking the fact Harry had a list of what he was looking for lolololololol. And Harry is NOT sharing the list, nice try.

Ah I knew Nacho would be in it, talking about Harry telling them he'd met a girl, maybe the one.

"she wanted to be in the moment. She wanted to get to know him for him, not who the public thought he was." Lindsay summing it up well.

Harry talking about Royal men, and the temptation to marry someone than fits the mold, rather than the person they are destined to be with. WOW.

Making decisions with your head or your heart, before mentioned his Mother and her making decisions with her heart. "And I am my Mother's son."

Clips of baby Harry and his first public appearance, with Harry talking about there not being a classroom with his Grandmother in front telling them what it's like to be Royal.

Him talking about blocking about memories of his Mum is sad, but always remembering her laugh.

"What am I? Who am I? What am I part of?"

James Holt speaking, with Archewell and Palace spokesman labelled under him.

I'm glad they're chosen to put experts in - makes it less reality show and more documentary which I think it needed to be.

Oh they included the Panorama interview. "I think we all know now she was deceived into giving that interview but she spoke the truth about her experience".

Harry talking about the similarities between Meghan and his Mum. "The same compassion, and empathy and confidence. She has this warm about her."

Oh the clip of Archie and Granny Diana's photo.

"I didn't want history to repeat itself..."

The clip from Earl Spencer's speech after Diana's death, that the media have blood on their hands is a powerful choice to include to. Reemphasises Harry's fears all along.

Nicky - one of H's childhood friends included. Talking about walking behind Diana's coffin was the moment people began to think they knew Harry more than they did.

Them including Harry fighting the paps back in the day 🙈

Prince Seiso! Talking about Harry being willing to learn, not being there to tell. An immediate connection to just not each other but the community. He is his mother.

Harry saying that they are brothers.

He has a Lesotho name, which means "warrior." A warrior in spirit and in character.

Harry talking about what Lesotho gave him, it's very much his other home and it was critical to share with Meghan.

The happiness in the Botswana photos is just so so clear.

Abigail Spencer's pure laugh when she was talking about Meghan sharing he was in love with Prince Harry.

"it's not about who you trust, it's about who they trust" - I'd never thought of it like that but it makes total sense.

Their last Halloween of fun, knowing the news would break the next day. Eugenie & Jack! Such fun and then....

Boom. All the headlines.

Wow they've managed to pack a lot in to just one episode.

#first thoughts #HM for Netflix #episode one

[fangirlstorycreator]

Hi there! It's been a while since I've come here and I love your writing! Can you do something for Jack Blaylock and his girlfriend. Maybe they had a fight and she stayed away from him for a few days. Until they crossed paths at a local bar again and he got jealous of other men around her. So he patches things up with her and shows her who she belongs to! Some steamy ending if you're okay with that😄 thank you💚💚

Thank you so much anon 😁 of course I can do a Jack blaylock story for you 😃I hope you enjoy 💚

"I don't see what your problem is!" "My problem is that you don't listen to me! I'm telling you that Lindsay is trying it on with you and you won't take it seriously!" "She's not trying it on with me Y/N, I love you, not her!" "But you don't see that she is trying to break us up! She told me herself that she wants to f#ck you! I know you don't like her in that way but why in the world would you still be alright to talk to her and ignore what I'm telling you?!" "Babe just chill! Your really going way over board with this issue, you need to trust me" "I do trust you Jack, I just don't trust her!" "Oh for f#ck sake! Please just drop it! Just shut up about it!" He instantly regretted saying that in the heat of the moment, and he could see how upset you were when he said that to you. "Y/N I'm sorry I-" "Just save it Jack! I don't want to be near you right now, and I certainly don't want to hear your voice either" You stand up and try to leave the flat, but he grabs your wrist trying to stop you from leaving. But that doesn't work, you just snap your hand away from his, he looks so guilty about everything.

"I said I don't want to be near you Jack! I need some time by myself right now, just leave me alone" You storm out of the flat and head downstairs to your car, leaving Jack, hiding his face in his hands.

You didnt live with Jack, you had your own flat you stayed at so you drove straight there and tried to get some sleep. But he texted you to see if you were ok, but you just ignored it, you told him you wanted some space and you meant it. You ended up having a big cry and eating some icecream while watching your favourite show. Eventually falling asleep in your bed with the TV on, cuddling up to your squishmallow. The next day when you woke up, you felt a little groggy, so the first thing you did was have a shower, brushed your teeth and headed back to you room to get dressed. You sat on your bed and checked your phone, and it appears that he only left one more message after you gave up on your phone last night. It simply said "I'm sorry, please remember I love you, take all the time you need. Love Jack" So he finaly understood that you needed time, and you did actually feel a bit more comfortable for the day ahead. You worked the next 2 days, without talking to Jack, but you told him you needed space and this time on your own was helping you feel less stressed. You loved Jack to death, but at the time you hated that he didn't take what you were trying to warn him about seriously.

You knew how vindictive Lindsey was, and you were just trying to tell him the truth about her. But you weren't focusing on that now, you were trying to focus on your work. It had been 3 days now, and it was late Friday afternoon when you were sat at your office chair twiddling your thumbs. You had calmed down front the situation and now you were desperately missing Jack, missing how you felt when you were around him, the feel of his hug, the feel of his kiss, and that's when you decide to call him. It didn't even get to the second ring before he picked up. "Babe?" "Jack, listen I'm...I'm sorry" "Y/N I'm the one who should be saying sorry, I didn't listen to you and you were right about Lindsey. I was so worried you didn't want to be with me anymore" "Of course I still want to be with you Jack, I just needed some time to calm down" "I totally understand babe, and you'll be happy to know that Lindsey won't be a problem anymore" "What? Why?" "I won't lie to you, Lindsay DID try it on with me" "SHE WHAT!?" "Babe listen its alright, I told her to f#ck off. I was so angry at her and I told my boss about what happened, he demoted her and made her go on a works course about how to behave with other colleagues. Y/N I promise you that she isn't going to be a problem anymore, and I'm so so sorry that I didn't take the warnings you gave me seriously"

"Jack it's...its ok" "No, no it's not ok babe. How can I make it up to you?" "Jack you've already told me your sorry and you have seen Lindsey for who she is" "But I want to show you that I'm sorry instead of just saying it, I truly mean it, but I want to show you. Do you still need space?" "Honestly, not anymore. I really miss you Jack" "I miss you too Y/N, look, why don't we meet up in that bar across the street from your office after work? We can hang out, have a drink and I can shower you with all the love and affection I've not been able to give you. Please babe, I really miss you" "I miss you too Jack, ok. I'll meet you there after work, I finish at 6" "I finish at 6.45, but it will only take me 5 minutes to get to you" "That's ok, me and Cali are going to grab something to eat in the bar when we finish, and her boyfriend is picking her up at 6.30" "That's great babe, I'll see you later. I love you so much" "I love you too Jack, see you soon" And just like that, the phone call ended and you felt like your heart got a little lift. He apologized and he understood how you felt. And as a bonus, he told Lindsay to stay away, that made you smile knowing she couldn't try to manipulate him anymore. After your work finished, you and Cali headed over to the bar and had something to eat off the menu, it was normal pub grub but it was still tasty.

Jack had texted you that he got himself something to eat at work too so you didn't have to worry, and that he would be with you as soon as he could. When Cali got picked up by her boyfriend, you were on your own having a drink in the bar. You didn't mind because Jack was going to be there any moment, and the thought of holding him and kissing him made your stomach fill with a warm sparkling feeling. You were nearly finished with your drink and you were about to ask the barmaid for a drink for you and Jack, when a random guy started talking to you. "Hey there" "Hi" "What's your name?" "My name is I have a boyfriend" "Oh, oh I see, my bad. I just couldn't help myself when I saw a gorgeous woman sat all by herself" "Well I am by myself for a moment, but my boyfriend will be hear any minute" "Then maybe I can keep you company until he arrives?" "No thank you" "Are you sure?" "Yes I'm sure, so if you could please leave me to it, that would be lovely" You were trying to be pleasant, but he really isn't taking the hint. "Look, I just think that a young woman like you shouldn't be by herself" "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, I am an adult. So please go away" "I think if i stay, you could-" Suddenly out of nowhere, this guys head is grabbed from the back and his face is pressed against the table, being held there so he can't move, he's pinned to the table. "What did you think your doing with my girl?!" "Hey man! I wasn't trying anything I swear!" "Is that right? Babe? You want to tell me what this d#ckhead was doing?"

"He offered to keep me company despite me telling him I had a boyfriend. I asked him to leave but he wouldn't" "Its sounds to me like my beautiful girlfriend told you she wanted you to leave. And yet, you DIDN'T!" He shouts as he presses him even harder on the table, making his face hurt. "Alright alright I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" "You'd better be! Now f#ck off!" He shouts as he pulls his head back up and pushes him into the floor, this man is so scared that he runs away as soon as be scrambles to his feet. "Are you ok babe?" He doesn't have a chance to hear anything you say when you jump into his arms, just needing to be physical close to him. It had been 3 days but it felt so much longer, and after that heroic display, you just wanted to feel his arms around you. His arms squeezed you back in just as much need as you gave him, he really missed you too and need to feel you. You pull away slightly just for a moment, but that was just so you could kiss him like he was about to disappear, like his kiss was oxygen to you, holding his face in your hand and showing him just how much you missed him. His tounge teased you, desperately wanting entry go your mouth, and you gladly gave it to him, his tounge danced against yours and it was like lightening was sparking between you.

"F#ck I've missed you Y/N" "I've really missed you too, god there had been so many times I've wanted to kiss you"

"Well if you need more, why don't we ditch this place and head back to your flat? I can show you how truly sorry I am" "Your place is closer, and I cant wait any longer" "Whatever you want baby, come on let's go!" He looked giddy as he took you by the hand and guided you out of the bar, leading you to his car. It was literally only a 5 minute drive, thank god because the sexual tention was getting too much for you. As soon as you got out of the car, it was as if Jack had super human speed, as he grabbed you and pressed you agsinst the car door and kissed you with an animalistic sexually desire, he just couldn't help himself, and you didn't care because it was so f#cking hot. "Let's get that sexy ass of yours upstairs, I need to f#ck you so bad" "Let's go then Jack, stop talking about it and do it!" You both run upstairs and burst into his flat, where he slams the door behind him and pulls you into another animalistic kiss again. Your hands get tangled into his hair as he presses you agsinst the wall, running his hands up your shirt and cupping your breasts, his hands were so large that he could hold each one so perfectly. You pull at the top of his shirt, pulling it over his arms and throwing it to the ground. He does the same with your shirt, wrapping his arm around your back and unhooking your bra with one swift move. Once that falls to the floor too, he picks you up and holds your legs around him as he carried you to the bedroom, where he throws you onto the bed like you weighed nothing.

He jumped onto the bed and positioned his hips inbetween your thighs, kissing you again. His hands move up your legs and he pulls your trousers away, as your hands unbuckle his belt and unzip his trousers. "God I've missed your body so f#cking much Y/N, when I saw that guy trying it on with you, it made my blood boil. Your my girl, and I want the world to know it" "Then f#ck me Jack" He hands grabbed your chin as his mouth crashed against yours once again, he kissed and sucked what felt like all the oxygen out of your body, it left you dizzy from the whole moment. He pulled away, but not before you sucked and bit at his lower lip, it made him growl, it was so damn sexy. He sits up and grabs your hips, spinning your whole body around so you were now on your front instead of lying on your back. His hands still on your hips, he pulls them up to meet his eager and throbbing cock, before he pounds right into you. "Huh! Oh God!" You say breathlessly, his hand reaches down and wraps up your hair into a loose ponytail, holding it in his hand. He bends over you and whispers in your ear, feeling his breath on your neck and ear. "God your so f#cking wet for me, and yet your still so tight around my cock. Tell me you want me" "I want you, I need you Jack, please!" And just like that, he kneels back up and fucks you mercilessly while still holding your hair in his hand. Over and over again he is fucking you relentlessly, so much that its making tears come out of your eyes.

You are barely able to let out your moans of pleasure as he continuously slams into you over and over again, making you feel orgasm after orgasm, it's so sensitive and intense that your physically shaking, crying and screaming out loud. He was really showing you who was incharge, showing you that you were his. "You like that baby? Aww you poor thing, you can barley speak can you?" "Jack I-f#ck I can't take anymore-I'm so sensitive-I cant-" "Shhhh baby, I think you can take one more, just one more. You take it just like this!" He stops fucking you quickly and relentlessly, instead he gives you very hard, deep thrusts in single motions. Slamming himself inside you and making you wince as yet another orgasm builds in your body. But he brings it up a notch, he presses you down so your completely flat on the bed, but he lies on top of you, still fucking you. His hand reaches up and wraps around your throat, holding you as he feels you clench around his cock, and he nibbles on your ear as he listens to your cries. "That's it baby, take it like a good girl....oh fuck that's it, thats it-huh! Fuck!" Just as you scream with his hand holding your throat, his grip slightly tightens as he reaches his own sweet release, shaking against you as your body feels the same, uncontrollably shivering as the sexual frustration is finaly lifted.

He relaxes as he lies on top of you, kissing your neck so sweetly. "Oh fuck I've really missed you baby, I've missed hearing those beautiful noises you make" "I've missed you too Jack...I can't get over how incredible that was....I....I am feeling...." "Aww babe, you look so tired. Hear, let me help you" He climbs off you and helps to sit you up on the bed, then he plumps up the pillows and lies you down with him as he is the bigger spoon for you, you could feel his heartbeat against your back, it was so soothing. One of his arms is wrapped around your waist, and the other is comfortably under your shoulder and neck, holding you close to him, making you feel so safe. "I love when you hold me like this Jack....I feel so....I'm sorry I feel really tired" "That's ok babe, you've had a long day, and I wasn't exactly slow with you"

"I absolutely loved it Jack....being physical with you always feels...amazing" "Shhhh, I know Y/N, I feel the same way. Just close your eyes for me now, you deserve a restful night sleep, and I will be right hear to hold you. And by the way, I promise I won't ever doubt you when you tell me something important like what happened with Lindsay. You were right, she was a....babe?" He didn't realise until he looked down onto your face, that he sees you sleeping sweetly in his arms, but he didn't mind, infact he loved it. He brushed some hair out of your face and kissed your cheek, trying to be gentle and not wanting to wake you up. He reached over his shoulder and turned out the light on the bedside table, and snuggled back down with you, eventually falling asleep with you too.

#thomas ian griffith #sensei targaryen #jack blaylock #jack blaylock x reader

[beardedmrbean]

The former New Hampshire state representative Stacie Marie Laughton, who identifies as a transgender woman, has been federally charged in connection with the Tyngsboro daycare child pornography case.

Laughton, 39, of Nashua, N.H., was referred to as “PERSON 1” in the federal criminal complaint against Lindsay Groves, 38, of Hudson, N.H., who was charged last month with taking pornographic images of children at the Creative Minds daycare in Tyngsboro, where she worked.

“I want to do this with you with one of my kids,” Groves allegedly texted her former romantic partner — who has now been identified as Laughton following Tuesday’s federal complaint filing — the afternoon of June 14 alongside a picture of a prepubescent boy with a focus on his genitals. “I took that picture a couple minutes ago.”

Laughton allegedly responded to that text with “I also need to be honest I mean yes that picture was hot of that little boy but you probably have gotten the picture by now that I prefer little girls (sic), but he is cute,” and allegedly requested that Groves to touch the little boy inappropriately.

All told, the feds claim the pair exchanged a total of 10,000 text messages during the time period where the illicit images were purportedly exchanged, which is a major increase to the estimate from when Groves was arrested and charged by criminal complaint on June 22. The feds say the messages included at least four sexually explicit images of children appearing to be between 3 and 5 years old, and lots of sex chatter about hooking up with each other and others, including children.

Laughton was charged Tuesday with one count of sexual exploitation of children, aiding and abetting.

Just a day before, the mother of a young boy enrolled in the Tyngsboro daycare filed a civil suit a civil suit was filed against Creative Minds Early Learning Center, Inc., the Dracut business which owned the daycare.

“As a direct and proximate result of the defendant’s negligence and carelessness as well as the invasion of his privacy, the plaintiff’s minor son was caused to suffer, and will continue to suffer, severe and significant physical and emotional injuries; embarrassment, and emotional distress; incur medical and therapeutic bills for his care and attendance; and was otherwise injured,” the complaint filed Monday in Middlesex Superior Court states.

The suit alleges that the business had been told as early as 2018 by a parent of a child at its program that Groves — who it says was employed at the center from 2017 until her arrest in June — “was inappropriately touching children under their care.” It alleges that the business was warned again of Groves’ activity in October of last year.

It alleges that the business “did nothing to protect the children from Lindsay Groves.”

The business’ principal officer was not in the office when the Herald called Tuesday afternoon for comment and the Herald could not immediately locate a working direct phone number for her.

Groves remains in custody on state charges in New Hampshire. A court date has not yet been set for Laughton.

The charge of sexual exploitation of children provides for a sentence of at least 15 years and up to 30 years in prison, at least five years and up to a lifetime of supervised release and a fine of up to $250,000. Sentences are imposed by a federal district court judge based upon the U.S. Sentencing Guidelines and statutes which govern the determination of a sentence in a criminal case.

#nunyas news

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

Will and Bex: ROOMIES! (Chapter Four)

Summary: This is Part Nine of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.

Part One was Oopsie Baby which you can read here.

Part Two was Promises Kept which you can read here.

Part Three was Stop Adopting My Friends which you can read here.

Part Four was If You Give a Mouse a Cookie which you can read here.

Part Five was Now Kiss! which you can read here.

Part Six was Where There's a Will which you can read here.

Part Seven was First Rule of Game Night which you can read here.

Part Eight was A Fun Fair, an Alleged Flirtation, and a New Living Arrangement which you can read here.

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up

Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz, Jay Halstead/Erin Lindsay, Pre-Will Halstead/Connor Rhodes

Warnings: Sibling Fighting (but they all make up), relationship angst, a car accident with minor injuries, discussion of abuse

A/N: I'll post the link to the ao3 page at the bottom. This story has not only an OC character, but some quirky elements which may or may not be everyone's jam. Just FYI. Updates will be slow coming as I pick away at them during breaks from work. I couldn't take a full break from this though - I'm too excited to write it so I made working on this series my reward for when I get stuff done, lol

Click here for Chapter One

Click here for Chapter Two

Click here for Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Bex

“Something’s going on with Jay,” she announced to Will as soon as he entered the kitchen.

“…what?” Will squinted at her bleary-eyed, stumbling over to the coffee to pour himself a cup.

“He’s been avoiding me this week,” Bex said, scowling at her phone. “Have you heard from him?”

Will’s brain was slowly coming online as he sipped at his coffee. “Uh…I don’t think so.”

“See?” Bex said triumphantly. “Something’s going on.”

“Maybe he’s busy with a case.” Will said as if that was the most logical explanation.

“He always lets me know if he’s going to be out of touch or gets Mouse to do it,” she said. “No, there’s definitely something…” She let her mind shuffle through a few different plans. “Are you free tonight?”

“Tonight? Yeah,” Will said, finally managing to keep his eyes open.

“I’m going to get him to come over for dinner,” Bex said. “And I’ll invite Erin and Mouse too. Between the four of us, we should be able to get him to crack.” She nodded decisively.

“Bex, are you sure that’s the way to go about it?” Will asked tentatively.

She set down her phone mid-text and looked at him seriously. “Will, I’m not going to sit on him and force him to talk, but Jay…he tends to shut down and I don’t want to let it get that far if we can help it. I just need to see him face to face and go from there.”

“Okay.”  Will nodded, saluting her with his mug. “I will be here.” He wandered off to get ready for work and Bex returned to her messaging.

By the end of the day, she’d wrangled promises from Jay, Erin, and Mouse to show up for dinner. Phase One complete.

***

Bex

Her phone buzzed and she read the text message with a frown. “Dammit,” she whispered.

“What’s up?” Will poked his head into the kitchen.

“Jay.” She waved her phone at him before setting it down on the counter. “Says he and Erin are going to be late and to start without them.”

“Does that mean Mouse is still coming?”

A knock at the door.

“I guess so,” Bex said, a little confused by this turn of events. She set the lid back on her sauce and headed for the front door. “Mind setting the table, Will?”

“On it.”

Bex went to smooth out her shirt before answering the door and realized she was still wearing her tomato-spattered apron and yanked it off, balling it up in her hands. Opening the door, she froze—

Ho-ly shit.

Mouse got a hair cut.

And he looked good.

Not that he didn’t look good before. Bex had totally enjoyed the messy hair and beanie look. He rocked it. But…who knew he cleaned up this well?

Like.

Well.

And she was staring.

“Heeeeey, Mouse,” she opened the door wider as he cracked his crooked smile at her. “Come on in. Dinner’s almost ready. You heard from Jay and Erin?”

“Yeah, uh, they’ve got some stuff to finish, but Jay said they’d be here soon.” He handed her a box from one of the better bakeries near the precinct. “That’s, uh, just some rolls. I didn’t have time for anything else, but Jay said you were making spaghetti and I thought these would go good with that? Maybe I should have brought wine. I can—”

His usual rambles cut through her shock of his new look and Bex laughed softly. “Mouse, rolls are great,” she said. “They’re perfect. Thanks. You didn’t have to bring anything, but a hungry stomach, you know.”

“I was walking by and the bakery smelled real good so…” he shrugged as he stepped inside.

“Mouse! Hey! Glad you could make it.” Will popped out of the kitchen and Bex jumped a little, having nearly forgotten he was there. She passed him the rolls while Mouse hung up his coat and toed off his shoes.

Mouse followed her into the kitchen where Will was frowning down at his phone.

“Hey, Bex.” He looked up when she came in, a pained look on his face. “I’m really sorry to do this, but they need me back at the hospital.”

“What?” Phase Two of her plan was crumbling.

“Yeah, I just got a message now, I’m so sorry.” He patted her shoulder as he went past. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?” He rushed around, grabbing his bag and coat and keys and was out the door before she could ask any further questions.

Bex turned back to Mouse with raised eyebrows. “So…spaghetti?”

Mouse grinned at her. “I did also bring a hungry stomach as requested.”

***

Will

Will chuckled to himself as parked. Jay had messaged him to say he was going to be even later than he thought and Will had not missed the way Bex looked at Mouse when he came through the door.

And because he was The Best big brother, he one hundred percent lied and told her he had to go in to the hospital. He might have been looking forward to eating her spaghetti, but not enough to third wheel his way through dinner.

“You’re welcome, Bex,” he muttered as he walked through the door of Molly’s.

He took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer from Stella, the new firefighter at 51 who had started taking shifts at Molly’s too. She set his drink on a coaster and he was thanking her when someone dropped down onto the seat next to him. Looking over, he saw—

“Connor. Hey.”

“Hi, Will. Didn’t think I’d be seeing you here. Don’t you have a dinner party tonight?”

Will blinked at him. “How did you know that?”

“Bex told me when she was volunteering at the hospital this afternoon.” Connor took a quick scan of the bar. “Was there some sort of spaghetti disaster? Is she here too?”

He narrowed his eyes at Connor, trying to get a better read on him. “Why all the interest in Bex?”

“I like her,” Connor shrugged. “She’s an interesting kid.”

“Okay,” Will said slowly, waiting for a follow up and annoyed with himself for hoping that was all there was too it.

Connor caught his look and gave him a knowing one in return. “I like her and she’s becoming a nice friend,” he said. “That’s all. Trust me, she’s a little too young and a lot too female for me to be interested in any other way.”

Will blinked. Wow. Okay, then. Connor was just…putting that out there. Easy as that.

“What about you, Will?” Connor asked in a low voice, leaning in. “What type of person interests you?”

“Oh. Uh—” Will laughed nervously. “Well…” This was—he wasn’t ready to be easy with this. Not here. Not yet. He had locked all of that away when he moved home from New York. He needed to settle into his space here first. Be sure of things. Be sure of Jay. And Bex. And talk to them. He couldn’t—

“Hey.” Connor touched his shoulder lightly, pulling him out of the growing white noise of his thoughts. “That was a nosy question,” he said with a little smile. “And certainly not one that you ever have to answer, okay?”

Will nodded, not quite ready to speak yet.

“Did you hear about the impalement that came in today?” Connor asked, mercifully changing the subject. Will shook his head and Connor launched into the story, giving Will the space to relax word by word.

Soon they were on their next round and then the next as they swapped stories of their most memorable cases. And Will almost—almost—forgot about Connor’s question.

“What type of person interests you?”

***

Bex

About two seconds after Will left, Bex knew he’d been lying through his teeth. She’d deal with him later. For now, she was focused on hanging out with Mouse. Her friend.

Her friend named Mouse who was currently managing to still look super hot while eating spaghetti.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

She’d already tried distracting herself by grilling him over what was going on with Jay, but Mouse was stubbornly tight lipped about it.

“He’ll tell you when he’s ready.” That was all she got.

So she moved on to entertaining him with stories about their latest gig—a wedding where the mother of the bride got into an actual physical fight with the caterer—and he geeked out telling her about the latest tech he’d convinced the station to order in.

And they kept going, filling in the time while Jay was still not there, chatting about everything and nothing. Like friends did.

Mouse stayed to help clean up and then ‘let’ himself be convinced to watch a few episodes of Bake Off. (He couldn’t fool her. She knew he was a fully converted die-hard GBBO fan now. One who could point out when someone was over-proving their dough which she kind of loved.)

Three episodes in, there was a knock at the door. She glanced at Mouse who was already reaching to pause the show as she rose from the couch. On the other side of the door was Jay.

An absolutely wrecked looking Jay.

And no Erin.

She was beginning to have a sense of what was going on now.

Bex pulled him inside and gave him a hug which he sunk right into. She held him tight, willing to stand there until he was ready to talk.

***

Jay

He hadn’t planned on showing up at Bex and Will’s place.

Talking about what had gone down was one of the last things he wanted to do right now, but going home to a dark, empty apartment to be alone with his thoughts was that much worse.

So he was here, being guided to the couch with Bex on one side and Mouse on the other, prepared to provide at least a short explanation if it meant he could just sit there for awhile.

“Jay,” Bex said gently, once they were seated. “What’s going on? Can you—do you want to talk about it?”

He didn’t, but if he told Bex and Mouse, maybe they could deal with telling everyone else. And he’d only ever have to say it once. “Erin’s leaving,” he said, voice rough.

He could see Bex glancing over at Mouse from the corner of his eye and Mouse shaking his head. Right. Mouse didn’t even know the full story yet.

“She was offered a position with the FBI,” he said. “In New York. Working with their anti-trafficking unit.”

“Oh,” Bex said softly. “That’s…”

“Perfect for her?” He looked up to see the sad understanding in Bex’s face. Someone as smart and driven and as good as Erin absolutely deserved a chance like this. Especially working in a field that had touched her life so deeply. Where she could make a real difference.

She deserved it. And she was right to take it.

Even though it meant the end of them.

Jay understood all of that. In his brain. But his heart was still in a million fucking pieces.

“Have you told her how you feel?” Bex asked. And he wondered if Will had told her about how he’d asked him for their mom’s ring. Even if he hadn’t, Bex always had a way of knowing that stuff.

“I didn’t—This is an amazing opportunity for her, Bex,” he said, trying to get her to understand. To see why he wasn’t chasing after Erin’s car this minute. “She needs to get out of Chicago. She needs to…not be tied to Voight forever. Deserves a chance to be her own person. I can’t stand in the way of that. I won’t.”

“I understand, Jay,” she wrapped an arm around him, petting at his hair. “I get it. And I’m so, so sorry.”

They sat there in the quiet for a while, Bex murmuring reassurances at him and Mouse a steady, silent presence on his other side.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Bex said eventually, straightening up and urging him to do the same. Every muscle in his body felt weighed down and exhausted, but he managed to lean up against the couch. “First, we’re going to drink Will’s beer and eat the last of the spaghetti. And I will agree to—this once—watching Jackass.”

Mouse raised an eyebrow at Jay. “Not a bad deal so far, man.”

Jay cracked a small smile at him. He wasn’t wrong.

“Then,” Bex continued because it wasn’t a Bex plan without multiple parts. “We’re going to set up the pull out couch. Yes, I was surprised to learn it does that too, but here we are.”

“…then what,” Mouse prompted her.

“Then you guys are going to crash here and in the morning, I will make us a pancake feast. And then we’ll go from there. Okay?”

The two of them looked at Jay, waiting for him to agree, ready to scrap it all at the first sign of it being to much for him and Jay just…loved them. So fucking much.

“I could eat spaghetti,” he said.

***

Bex

Bex left the boys on the pull out couch in the living room, turning off the hall light as she headed to her own room. She was glad Mouse agreed to stay. Not that she thought he wouldn’t—it was for Jay after all.

But still. She was happy knowing someone was right there beside him.

She’d sent a lengthy text off to Will so he’d know what he was coming home to and to try and be quiet when he came in. And she made sure to say she hoped everything had gone well at the ‘hospital’.

They were definitely talking about that at some point.

But one thing at a time. First priority was helping Jay get through this.    

And between her, Mouse, Will, and their whole big family—they would get him through this.

Always.

Click here to read Part Ten of the series: Do Your "Grrr, We're Intelligence Thing

(Here is the link to read Will and Bex: ROOMIES! on ao3)

#chicago fire #chicago med #chicago pd #one chicago #christopher herrmann #jay halstead #will halstead #halstead brothers #oc character #rebecca 'bex' herrmann #halstead sister #sibling bonding #found family #team as family #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #alternate universe #not canon #not beta read #my first fanfic series #A Herrmann/Halstead Production