#the takeaways here in no real order;

[cognitiveleague]

…yeah that tracks

#spotify wrapped #spotify #spotify wrap 2023 #music #the takeaways here in no real order; #yes Spotify I know I’m a queer millennial musical theater nerd #top 1% of MCR listeners for ?? years running #(the MCR girl life never dies apparently) #strong Disaster Lesbian energy in the individual song category this year #or at least in the top 2 lmao

[nothorses]

I was talking with my dad recently & we got on the topic of People Thinking They Can't Do Things, and like, he is at his core a well-intentioned person who genuinely wants the best for others, but he has definitely internalized some harmful ideas a la "anyone can do anything, the only thing stopping them is their own attitude". so I was like. I see where you're coming from, but let me tell you a story.

last year, I worked with 10 year olds- many of whom had never really spent time outdoors- in an outdoor education program where they came to spend a whole week doing shit outside in nature. the top two scariest experiences for these kids were 1) very tall metal tower, and 2) walking outside at night in the dark with no flashlights.

I tried a lot of different things to persuade them all to join me for each experience: I presented it with enthusiasm and passion, I did physical demonstrations and scientific explanations to help them understands how safe it was, I voiced my absolute commitment to their safety, I invited them to brainstorm ways to help each other and themselves feel safe, etc.

generally I always had at least 2-3 kids out of about 10 who opted out, or if they did join me, would spend the entire experience crying and freaking out. when it was over, they would conclude that even though they did not die- or even get hurt- it was so scary that it wasn't worth it and they never wanted to do it again.

then I changed the question I asked. instead of asking them to tell me whether they could do it or couldn't do it, I asked them to raise their hand for one of three options:

You can definitely do this.

It will be hard or scary or uncomfortable, but you can try to do this.

It will definitely be too hard, scary, or uncomfortable, and you cannot or should not try to do this.

suddenly, almost nobody was opting out of these experiences.

they would try, even if they were scared, because they know that being scared didn't necessarily mean that they couldn't do it at all. and more importantly, they knew that if they needed to stop, that was an option; they weren't trapped in their decision to try.

and the real takeaway here, for me, is in the nuance: people need to be able to challenge themselves and to be uncomfortable in order to grow, and people need to be able to opt out in order for opting in to be a safe option.

[theorphicangel]

#1 “you can stay as long as you want.” | miguel x reader

the boyfriend series with miguel o’hara. | series of fluff, angst and smut with bf! miguel.

cw: none, fluffy.

“I still don’t understand how, for the entire movie, he doesn’t catch on that she’s the killer?”

“I know right, it’s stupid.” Miguel hums a a re-run of a classic slasher movie played on the television in front of you.

It was a late Friday night, the both of you were too exhausted from the past week of work to head out for a proper date. So instead you and Miguel settled for a movie marathon at his apartment.

Empty boxes of your favorite takeaway lay disheveled on his coffee table in front of the couch, your stomach fully satisfied with the meal. It doesn’t take much to get your dopamine running, you think. Him and food was all you needed to get yourself happy.

“I think if this shit played out in real life, me and you would have caught onto her in no time.” You note, as the killer on the screen preys onto their next victim.

“Oh, one hundred percent, we’re a dream team.” Miguel stretches out his exhausted limbs, a silent yawn following from his mouth. And as he does so, an arm magically ends up around your shoulder, pulling you in closer to his body.

“Wow. Smooth O’hara, real smooth.”

He smirks. “I try my best, mi amor.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as the movie plays on. Having watched the movie before, you know what’s to come as the rest of the film comes as a total cliche. You can’t help but let your mind wander. Simultaneously, your hands become restless, fingertips fiddling with each other.

“I should head home soon.” You announce, keeping your eyes on the screen ahead.

Miguel hums, his fingertips tracing circles on your arms ever so gently.

You should head home but you don’t really want to. The thought of getting up from this couch is a headache in itself and the thought of driving home at the hour with traffic and dealing with god-awful drivers makes you want to bury yourself into the earth. You really don’t want to head home, but you probably should.

Through the shadow of your expression, Miguel can read the exhaustion on your face. As well as you, he really doesn’t want you to leave. Not when the two of you are so comfortable like this.

“Hey.” Miguel whispers, causing you to turn your head to look at him. “You can stay as long as you want.” He says. “You know that right?”

Your heart swells immediately at his words, a spark of love set off in your body like a sudden firework.

“I know.” You smile before continuing. “But I probably shouldn’t, I have tons of work to catch up and briefs and—”

“But I want you to.”

Miguel doesn’t mean interrupt your work ethic but for the past week he’s been yearning to see you. It’s hard enough that you both have busy lifestyles, meaning that finding time to see each other is rare. Not to mention how far you live away from him. It’s moments like this, when you have to leave, that Miguel just wants to be totally selfish.

So that’s what he’s doing. Being selfish for once.

“If you’re sure.” you confirm.

“I’m always sure.”

You snort to yourself at his comment. “Then why’d you take fifteen minutes deciding what to order earlier?” You nudge your elbow into his side gently, teasing him further.

Miguel rolls his eyes, now more at ease to wrap his large arms around you. “You’re a little alborotadora, aren’t you?” [troublemaker]

“Maybe.” You respond with a playful tone, adding a kiss on his cheek. Your hand moves up to cup his cheek. The action is soft and tender, as if he were the most delicate thing in the world. And you knew he was, especially when he let you into the most intricate parts of his soul. Something that he rarely gave people permission to do.

“Okay,” you murmur. “I’ll stay.”

reblogs are much appreciated! thank you for reading and thank you for being here!

#angel writes #miguel o hara x reader #bf!miguel #atsv miguel #atsv headcanons #spiderman atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman astv #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara drabbles

[ghouljams]

real talk you ever think about the FACT that price is the type of husband who immediately gets home after working late with take out and a giant slobbering kiss on your lips as soon as you rush out to greet him get the food

price is literally the perfect blue color husband. fucks you just like one too. slow and sleepy, mindful of his sore muscles from working all day, fucking with purpose with feeling.

and then food :3

God yes, literally the perfect man

You always wait up for him, he knows you do. Knows that you'll be half asleep when he gets home, that you probably got home late too and didn't have time to eat anything before you were thinking of him. The only thing on his mind the whole drive home is you. The takeaway smells heavenly in his passenger seat, but all he can think about is burying his nose in your neck and holding you close, you always smell like home.

You're perfect coming over to greet him, gently catching the food he drops in favor and cradling your face and kissing you. He's too eager to lick his tongue against yours, to dip into your mouth and taste you. All the stress of the day seems to melt away when your tongue presses against his, slow and lazy the way you kiss him. You have all the time in the world, and there's no one else he'd rather be with. That's why he married you after all. He walks you beck towards your bedroom, gives you just enough time to drop the brown paper takeaway bag on the dining table before he tugs you off to bed. There's a proper order to these things after all, and it isn't food he's hungry for. 12 hours without seeing his baby takes a toll on a man.

And you're so good to him, stripping your pants off and fumbling with his fly as he eases you back onto the bed. Your soft pyjamas fall so easily, and you were smart enough to skip the underwear. "Fuck you're good to me," he mumbles, hauling you close and gripping the base of his cock to rub against your wet slit.

"Knew you'd be tired," you murmur back, spreading your legs a little wider for him, "all prepped, go ahead baby."

There's no better invitation. He sinks into your tight wet heat with a low groan, his cock aching at the clench of your gummy walls. Not a place on earth he'd rather be than between your legs. He presses close against you, eases into a slow rhythm. In and out with the hitch of your breath. Gentle the way he fucks you, makes love to you. He presses his nose against your neck and breathes you in, your shampoo, your soap, the crappy coffee shop by your work, the last dredge of your perfume still clinging to your skin. No one compares to you.

You hook your legs around his back, cross your ankles to keep him close. Your fingers thread through his hair and pull him to your lips, kissing him with the same slow passion he fucks you with. The steady, sleepy, build of heat that hardly seems to care about the end. Neither of you care about the end, this is for sharing each other's company. The closeness, the push and pull of intimacy, that Price craves so dearly is right here in bed with you at the end of a long day.

Later you'll eat cold take away and share the day's highs and lows. Later you'll clean up and find your places in bed again, this time cuddled close as you both drift off to do it all again tomorrow. For now Price rocks against you, his heart full as you whisper your love to him, and he doesn't need anything else.

#cod x reader #x reader #john price mw2 #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #john price x f!reader #captain price cod #captain price mw2 #captain price #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #f!reader #this is very soft sex because im very tired #i with the boyfriend was here... #john price dream daddy we already knew #mdni

[bellewintersroe]

Charles Leclerc smut x reader - part 1

Little bit different from my normal writing, but I’ve been obsessed with f1 atm and can’t seem to shake the thirst for the drivers 😬 so anyway here’s a Charles smut x Vasseur! Daughter. Don’t know if this will hit the target audience but it’s fine!

this hasn’t been proof read so could be kinda shit.

Jenny never had a good relationship with her father, the current principle of Ferrari. He’s brought her to many of the 2023 Grand Prix races in order to bond, however she seems to have turned her efforts elsewhere when she meets a certain driver who can’t seem to keep his eyes off her. Their relationship is forbidden, hidden make out sessions, late night drives, the two are getting closer and closer until neither of them can handle the tension between one another.

“Looks cold.” I commented, half distracted as the Monegasque struggled to lower himself into the ice-bath. Fuck, he was so sexy. My eyes dropped down to Charles’ bare torso, he was so toned, his tan skin was smooth and I wanted to run my hand down there so bad. His chest rose and fell heavily, fast enough to get my imagination racing.

“Probably because it is!” Charles teased back, letting out several gasps that had me turning away in order to rid the dirty thoughts from my mind. I couldn’t control my mind around Charles, we’d been getting closer for the past two months, out of the four we’d known one another. Secret, friendly drives and late night takeaways turned into heated make out sessions in hotel corridors and, tense, sex fuelled texts from one another’s rooms when our hands were the only tools to satisfy our own cravings. If it wasn’t for my dad, Frederic Vasseur, principle of Ferrari, and therefore Charles’ borderline manager- or whatever you wanted to call him- I was positive I’d have had Charles in the way I wanted several times at this point.

Growing up I’d loved attending races, placing in the cars, I enjoyed being around here, but living in England with my mum strained my relationship with my father, my teenage years having interests elsewhere than race tracks and cars. This year, I’d made the effort to follow my dad around and Ferrari, accepting his invitation and staying with my 3 siblings and step-mum. I was glad I did, not only for the family time, but for the fact I’d met Charles. Wondering off, I didn’t really know where to linger, none of my family were here, so I just kinda stood on my phone inside, revealing a text from Charles before I’d seen him outside. Let’s go for a drive tonight?

Smiling, I was quick to text back in agreement before I scrolled up ever so slightly. Sexts. Fuck, intimate, graphic pictures, I ignored my own and glanced over Charles’s, pulling my phone closer to me so nobody could see. Not that there was anybody about. Pictures of his cock, exposed, hidden beneath his boxers, strained under a towel, wrapped in his hand- I had to quickly flick off the chat to control my breathing. How I needed him, so desperately, I’d yet to see him naked in real, I’d yet to touch him. The video he sent me from the night before plagued my mind, the way his breath trembled as he jerked himself off, how he’d spat into his palm, lubricating himself and, how he’d moaned and gasped my name as he came over his bare torso. My stomach churned with butterflies, my hand scraped through my hair, fidgeting as I let out a quick exhale through my nose. I was officially sex deprived. Turning down to my phone, I started texting Charles again, not knowing if he’d see it or not. I really need you

Much to my surprise, he read the message almost instantly. He must be out of his ice-bath already. Why, are you okay??? I physically face palmed at his message, feeling a slight humiliation covet my face. Maybe if I dirty talked in the small amount of French I knew he’d actually take the hint? I don’t mean it like that hahaha

Oh

Where are you? I see you

Glancing up from my phone, I noticed the shirtless boy walking towards home, glimpsing behind him to see if anybody followed. “You thought I was hurt?” I giggled when he got closer, biting down on my lip as he placed a hand on my lower back. “I am an idiot.” He laughed, his accent thick. “I know.” I hummed out, gazing up to him as his eyes lingered over me.

He moved down, pressing a kiss to the side of my forehead before his other hand ran over the back of my hip. “This way, my love.” He sweetly spoke as I felt that familiar pulsating in my core. Fuck, I needed him, and I needed him now.

I didn’t ask any questions, I just allowed him to lead me down past the gym and into a small changing room. I could feel my breathing grow heavy, the anticipation of being completely and utterly alone being too much as I spun around as soon as the door was shut. “Charles.” I whispered, a little breathy as I slid my hands over his shoulders, simultaneously clashing our lips together. His hands were still holding my hips, the front now, smoothing over my white summer dress that was maybe a little too short.

“I needed you so bad.” I practically whined, pressing our bodies closer together as his fingers tightened over my hips. “Fuck, in here?!” He whispered, the kiss breaking apart for a second as we stared back to one another with the same wild look in our eyes. “Please.” I hushed, bucking my hips a little into his as his eyes fluttered shut, hearing him let out a small breath. “I thought about you all day in this dress.” Charles muttered, pushing my head back into a bruising kiss. “Mmmh.” I hummed, hungrily against his mouth. “What about?” I giggled, desperate to hear more of his dirty words. My hand smoothed down his front, knowing we didn’t have much time and rested over his lower abdomen. Charles gulped harshly, lips grazing over mine.

“You are a dirty girl, wanting to hear about it all, yes?” He let out a breathless laugh as I giggled, nodding and leaving a second lingering kiss on his mouth. When I retracted, he attempted to move closer again, letting out a noise of discontent when I moved away from the kiss he chased. “Oui.” I teased as he smirked. “Oh, tu veux le faire en français?” I vaguely recognised he was asking if I wanted to do this in French. “Mmmh.” I agreed, feeling one of his hands fall down as he smoothed over the curve of my ass.

Charles lowered his head, dipping it into the crook of my neck as I swallowed, letting out a breathy moan at the sensitivity I felt when he trailed his lips over my exposed skin. “Tu veux entendre parler de toutes les choses sales que j'ai pensé de toi?” He hummed as I simultaneously let out a moan at his French tongue, whispering into my ear. I was entirely too distracted to translate what he was saying. “God.” I gasped out, head lolling back, the tension thick between us as he pressed my hips into his. “Don’t run away.” He borderline tutted, attaching our lips again. This time, the kiss was deep and there was no breaking apart, Charles stumbled back, into the wall, stumbling around as he hummed lowly, running his hands over my back, pinching my ass and pulling it desperately into his already hard front. “I wanted to get up this skirt all…” I felt him wince when he couldn’t think of the word. “Day?” I giggled. “Day.” He breathily laughed, kissing me gently. “Since you sent me those pictures.” His hand reached down to the bare of my leg, smoothing over my thigh and up my skirt.

“So, so sexy.” He hummed, fingers grazing over my core, top to bottom, all the way to the top of my pubic mound, over the slit. My hips bucked at the sensitivity, it had been a while since anybody other than myself had touched there. And now Charles was the one running his fingers over me, my pussy ached for him. I didn’t think I could be patient, Charles and I took a second to glance at once another before he now nudged me back into the wall, the kiss becoming heavy and sloppy as he breathed harshly against my lips, pushing his fingers into my thongs as his rough fingertips rubbed over my wetness, sliding easily against my throbbing clit.

“Si humide, putain, j'ai tellement besoin de toi.” He borderline whimpered as my hand wrapped around his clothed cock. He was rock hard, he felt so big against my small hands, and as I rubbed my hand up and down, Charles’ breathing grew heavier. “I need you too.” I choked out, letting a soft gasp escape my lips when his fingers pressed down harder on my sensitivity. “Fuck.” I whimpered out. “Please, I need you to fuck me.” My head fell against his shoulder as he nudged my face up with his. “Are you sure?” “Yeah.” I nodded, surely, his hand creeping out of my underwear, resting on my exposed hip. “Just take me here, please, we can make up for it later.” I squeezed the tip of his cock as he choked out a French curse word. “C’mere.” Charles then quickly ushered, lowering himself down onto the bench as I was quick to follow, watching him pull out his cock. He was just as big in real life compared to the numerous pictures and videos he sent me. I wanted to taste him. Just as I was ready to get on my knees his hand stopped me by the elbows.

“Non, non. You wont do that the first time we sleep together.” He insisted, pulling me on top. “I don’t have much time.” Charles admittied, guiding me to climb on top, knees either side of him. It was the first time we’d been in this position, and I could feel myself growing a little red in the cheeks. I’d been so caught up in my sexual desperation, that I didn’t fully realise how exciting and fun this was to do with Charles.

“Are you sure you want to do it in here?” He paused, running a hand over my cheek, some strands of hair catching between his fingers. “Yeah.” I nodded, smiling a little shyly at the vulnerable moment. “I’m on the pill as well. La pilule.” I translated as he nodded, lifting his head to kiss me more gently now. Charles fingers pushed the shoulder of my sleeve slightly, exposing my skin as he pressed a kiss there before spitting in his hand to lubricate himself and angle himself at my entrance.

I gasped at the slight stretch, sinking down slowly on his cock as he let out a sigh, fidgeting a little at the sensation as he smoothed a hand down my back. Fuck. He felt so good- I felt so full. Just how if needed. “That’s good?” He asked me as I nodded. “Yeah.” I squeaked, moving forwards for another kiss as he began moving me up and down with the thrust of his hips, the small noises he was making causing me to gasp out myself. The angle was intense, immediately hitting a sensitive spot deep inside of me as I struggled to remain quiet.

“Oh my god.” Charles hushed against my ear, pressing a kiss to my neck as I whined, gripping at him tighter, I began moving my hips, bouncing on his cock as I started a rhythm that made his eyes roll back into his head. Fuck, he looked so good, I couldn’t speak, I was struggling to hold back my moans, so if I opened my mouth I’d get us into trouble. “So good.” I sobbed against his neck, hiding my face in there. “Oui.” He agreed, strained as he bucked his hips up again, once, twice, three times, before he started fucking me at a much faster rate. “Fuck, like that, fuck me Charles.” I practically sung as he let out a gasp of a moan, my hips jolting forwards.

“Been waiting for this.” He grunted out, pulling my hips down to grind over him. “For so long.” He groaned, dropping his head back as I whined, grinding myself over him. “Fuck.” I choked out as he lifted his head again, watching me with an open mouth. He tensed his jaw, one hand on my shoulder, the other gripping my ass as he began fucking into me. “Tu le veux plus fort?” I moaned out in response, “yes, yes.” I choked, overwhelmed by the pleasure as he continued fucking up into me.

“Needed you for so long, Charles.” I whimpered, forehead resting against his own as he continued bucking up into me, beginning to sweat as he huffed at my words. Now we’d been so deep into our intense love making, I felt all the confidence to begin babbling. “Fuck, I needed you to fuck me like this, watching you touch yourself over me.” Charles let out a much louder groan at my words now, one of his hands slamming on the longer besides us for support. “I can’t.. I can’t, I’m going to cum if you keep talking like that.” Charles paused, breathing heavily as I gasped out from the loss of movement. Instead, I began bouncing my hips up and down, hands resting on his bare torso. “That’s what I want.” I admitted as his eyes squeezed tightly shut for a moment, gripping my flesh harshly. “Baby, baby, baby.” He hushed, pulling my front closer to his. “I want you to cum first. Tu jouis en premier.” He whispered, inhaling sharply with another snap of my hips.

“I’ll finish too fast.” He settled a hand on my hips, freezing my actions as he smiled a little shyly. “Charles?! Charles?!” A man’s voice began echoing as I turned over my shoulder. Charles let out a frustrated sigh, dropping his shoulder against mine. The door was locked. “Yo, Charles you in there?” The man asked as I made direct eye contact with the boy still inside me. No, I needed him, fuck, I didn’t want this to end.

“Can’t I get two minutes alone with you?” Charles muttered, head leaning on my chest now. His hips gyrated the slightest against mine as I let out a quiet sigh, trailing my hands over his shoulders. “Yeah! Just on the phone!” Charles exclaimed. “Oh! Okay, sorry! You’re needed outside, bro!” Charles winced as I went to slide off him, he shook his head, wanting me to stay there, but I dropped to my knees causing him to sit up straighter, stunned by my actions. I smirked up to him, licking a stripe along the bottom of his cock as his jaw dropped.

“I-I’ll be 10 minutes!” He choked out, holding eye contact with him for as long as I could before I sunk my lips down over his erection. I’d wanted to feel him in my mouth for so long.

“Okay, bro, sorry for interrupting!” The man called out again, I think his name was Marcus. “Merde.” Charles muttered maybe a little too loud as I hollowed my cheeks, sucking a little faster now. His hand hovered over the back of my head, resting it there lightly as I felt his whole body tense. My lips ran over his veiny tip, the taste of myself and his precum filled my mouth, edging me on.

“What?” The guy called out again. “Nothing!” Charles exclaimed, miming out a soft, “oh my god.” Biting down on his hand, I glanced up to him before going down as far as possible. He jumped and hunched forwards. He was going to cum, I could feel it, I wanted it.

“Ah, alright man, see you in 10.” The footsteps slowly got quieter as Charles finally sighed out.

“Si bon, Jenny tu es si bon pour moi.” I knew that was him telling me how good I was, fuck, I needed to hear more of his praises as I bobbed my head up and down. His soft breaths soon became heavy and shaky, as he struggled to keep his composure and keep quiet. “Je vais jouir.” He warned, “merde! Baby!” He held his breath, tapping desperately on my cheek, but I didn’t pull off as his whole body seized and began shaking. I moaned against his twitching cock, pulling off just as he spurted his cum everywhere, the breath he was holding coming out as one loud groan, the desperation soon replaced with content as I smoothed my hands over his wet cock. Charles’s hand landed on top of mine as he caressed my fingers that stroked over his dick. That was too good… making him cum for me with my mouth, I’d never done that before.

“Oh, baby!” He moaned out, exhaling and sitting up straighter as he pulled me up, kissing me several times. “You didn’t have to do that.” He breathed, still coming down from his high as I smiled, kissing his cheek. “I wanted to. Plus, you were in a rush.”

“Fuck, you are so good. I owe you big time.” He shook his head, glancing down to the mess we’d both made. “No you don’t.” I swiped my fingers under my lip, cleaning myself up as my pussy still throbbed, I was in pain with the amount of sexual frustration I had. “I do.” Charles nodded firmly, “I want to properly fuck you. For as long as you want.” He shook his head, his words making me groan playfully as he giggled. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Don’t make yourself cum until I can. Tonight.” Charles grabbed my wrist once more as I bit down on my lip. “If I can wait that long.” I eyed him up and down as he slowly eased himself onto his feet. We shared a few sweet kisses before he apologised profusely that he had to leave. I was fine with it, kinda satisfied from the fact we’d finally got to- pretty much fuck. Now all I had to do was wait until tonight without touching myself. Kinda difficult when I’d been worked up to the edge of orgasm by one of the hottest guys I’d ever seen. I wasn’t sure if I could wait that long ….

#Charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #f1 smut

[oceantornadoo]

hii! can you do what it would be like asking price to put pads on the shopping list?? and then when price goes shopping he has to call you to ask for what size ?? 😭😭 btw i love love your work, hope u had a good day💞.

im pretty sure you're referring to this post but i decided to make this price x reader so :) enjoy!

bsf marriage pact!price x reader, he's slightly creepy but he's sweet (this is actually a bit dubcon but its in good spirit)

you had had a shit day. actually, make that a shit week. emotional the whole time, feeling lonely, depressed, and with the weirdest cravings. right when you were about to call your best friend and rant about how terrible you felt, you had went to the bathroom and- oh.

that explains a lot.

and now here you were, sitting on the toilet for the past ten minutes, contemplating. you were completely out of all period products and your flow was so heavy there was no way you were making it to the store free bleeding or with toilet paper as a makeshift pad. of course, that's when john decided to call you (let's be real, who doesn't take their phone to the bathroom. don't judge.)

"evenin', duckie."

"ugh john, i told you not to call me that. its so annoying."

john grunted a chuckle into the phone, swiping a hand over his beard. "you love it." silence. he could practically hear your eye roll. "dinner tonight?" he was pacing his apartment, uncharacteristic for a man like him. calm, cool, collected. never when it came to you.

"can't, sorry. maybe in a few days." he grunted. "could order a takeaway?" you sighed in his ear, the sound a melody he craved to hear over and over again. on lazy saturdays and in-between small fights over laundry. baby steps, though.

"its just not in the cards tonight, john, i'm sorry." you were never like this, withholding information. even when you cancelled on him, it was with a long-winded explanation with the names of about seven people he didn't know and plans you didn't want to go to. "'s wrong, duck? got a hot date or somethin'?" he mentally crossed his fingers, not allowing a physical expression. he wasn't that whipped. not yet.

"no, im just sick. and tired." his muscles relaxed. he started putting on his boots and grabbed a fleece, something gaz insisted was not too tryhard for someone like him. "i'll run to the store and grab ya medicine, hm? what'dya need?" you sighed again, rubbing your fingers to your forehead. he obviously was not giving this up and you did really need pads...

"ill text you a list when you get there. thanks john."

"anythin' for you, duckie."

list: pads, advil, that one chocolate candy you know i like, something for dinner

shit. price had been with a woman or two, but had never had to buy her pads. of course, he'd never let it get to that stage, not when he had you to take care of. but now here he was, staring at playtex and always and what the fuck was a diva cup? he'd better call you.

"all ok, john?"

"ya didn't give me a color on your pads, duck." you giggled. of course he paid attention to the green versus orange pads.

"its pretty heavy so some of the overnight and extra daytime ones would work." silence.

"...there's numbers." your cheeks warmed. you couldn't believe you were talking about this with john of all people.

"god, john. this feels so embarrassing. so weird to talk about with you."

"why? gotta know this for the rest of my life, duckie." shit. he was referring to that night a couple weeks ago, when you confessed to him you thought you'd never find love. when he said he'd marry you in a heartbeat, just say the word. when you compromised by telling him if you were still single in two years, you'd go to the courthouse then and there. when you didn't see him turn and write the date in phone, just as a reminder.

"5, john. there should be a moon symbol or something. and then 3. should be green, i think?" he grunted an affirmation, putting the respective pads in his cart. he turned around, having said goodbye and ended the call, and was subsequently greeted by three women, staring. paused in their product selection, staring openmouthed at how nonchalant he was about buying pads.

30 minutes later he was at your place, groceries and takeaway in hand as he used his spare key to let himself in. "duck?" all quiet. he stalked through your place and noticed the light on in the bathroom. one, two, three quick knocks. "john?" "'s me. can i come in?" "no i- need you to get me something." he waited patiently. "can you go to my dresser and grab a pair of underwear. something ugly, lots of coverage." who was he to say no to a free invite to your underwear drawer?

john dropped the pads outside your bathroom door and headed to your bedroom. finding your dresser, he had to give himself a second. calm down, old man. they're all clean.

that didn't stop him from sniffing a few, reveling at the scent of your laundry detergent. he almost groaned at the scent, imagining you in them. even in the "unsexy" pairs, your curves clothed in cotton and elastic, wrapped up in a lovely package. all his.

john selected a pair with "lots of coverage", whatever that meant, and headed to your bathroom. he opened the door with ease, setting your pads down on the counter. you shrieked.

"john! im half naked, you need to knock." obviously, the sight of your bare thighs and the top of your mound peaking out was most welcome, but he was more concerned about getting you off the toilet and putting food in your belly. "jus' me, duckie. come on, show me how to do it." he gestured at the pads. he couldn't be serious.

you slowly unboxed them, taking care to cover your naked body as much as possible. even while moving slowly, your shirt still shifted and he caught glimpses of your pretty pussy. an image for another day, when you weren't in pain. he focused on your fingers, deftly putting the pad on your underwear with years of practice. he memorized how you placed the pad, ensuring it stuck to your underwear before tearing the paper off the wings and tucking them on the other side. you looked up at him and he nodded, mission complete. "thank you, by the way." he kissed your forehead, so quick you could have missed it in a blink.

"turn around, i have to put it on." he sat back on his haunches, staring. "go'on. 've gotta learn somehow." you were too tired to care, ready to devour your dinner. you missed his hungry gaze as you revealed your cunt to him, wanting even though it was covered in blood. you missed his fingers twitching as you slowly pulled on your underwear, fabric caressing your skin like he yearned to. you got up, flushed, and washed your hands, missing how he tucked his fingers in belt loops and leaned back into the wall, a move he'd done many times in his tac vest.

"thank you, john. truly." he gave you a grin under the muttonchops, all satisfied. task finished, mission accomplished. you had asked him to do this, a husbandly duty. after you dried your hands, you made a move for the door, but he stopped you with a hand to the jaw. he brushed his beard against you, feeling the shiver in your bones. his mouth hovered near your ear, accent coming out low and sultry. "anythin' for my future wife, duckie."

--

ngl this got a bit weird but i like it??? had to struggle to not lean into my simon riley weirdness tendencies as im still learning john as a character.

#john price #price #cod price #captain john price #captain price x reader #price x reader #john price x reader #captain price #price imagine #price headcanons #price one shot #john price x you #captain johnathan price #john price x y/n #tornadothoughts

[fanfic-obsessed]

Twist The Madness

Master Sifo-Dyas is the change point in this little bit of madness. 

In canon Sifo-Dyas is the Jedi that commissioned the Clone Army, driven mad by visions of a war that would destroy the Jedi, of the Jedi temple burning. It is unclear if he was seeing the results of the Clone Wars and Order 66 (thus, like Anakin, created the visions that drove him mad) or if he prevented his visions and Order 66 was something different entirely. It is also unclear if he was patsy of the Sith from the beginning, or if his plan was hijacked by the Sith at a later point.

But what if his takeaway from his visions and the madness they drove him to was just a bit different. Not an army, but protectors. 

Sifo-Dyas still commissioned 1 million clones but not all at once. Instead it would be an ongoing order for generations. The initial amount decanted would be 100,000 clones, most would grow at a double rate until they reach physical adulthood, then their aging would be slowed to normal for near humans. Their training would be generalized and the calling they would be raised with would be to protect the Jedi Temples. The intention being that they would be spread throughout the active temples and live amongst the Jedi there. Approximately 10,000 had a slightly different charge. Each would be raised for a specific Jedi, their genetics tweaked so that they would be a perfect companion and protector (including aging the clone to either adulthood or to match their assigned Jedi and then matching their aging to their Jedi). 

Jango Fett is still contracted to be the progenitor for the clones, but not because of his ability to kill Force Users. Instead it is his genetics themselves that separates him out from other bounty hunters. Due to the crossbreeding of his ancestors, his genetic code is particularly malleable, meaning that the genetic modifications needed to match Clone to a specific Jedi are that much easier. He was not expected to provide training, thus he simply provided generic material  (enough over the course of one year for all 1 million clones in the order), is paid a massive amount of credits plus 1 son (Boba) and leaves; he has no idea that this order is for the Jedi.  

At his request there is a specific genetic marker that is artificially added to all of the clones but Boba so that none of them can claim to be him or his son. He also signs a truly impressive number of agreements that released him from responsibility for the clones AND guaranteed that he knew that he was being cloned (Look, realistically the ethical issue with cloning a sentient being centers around the being being cloned, not the clones themselves; the ethical issues with the clones and their sentience is sentient trafficking).

I want it to be clear here. Sifo-dyas was still driven to madness before he commissioned the clones. He and master Dooku were working together on this project, sharing the madness. Dooku does not fall to the darkside here, though he does still leave the Jedi Order. Though their machinations see that the Clones on the whole are treated better, as they are meant to be companions and protectors of the Jedi, the clones are very much being raised for a destiny that they were not able to choose (with all the ethical issues that come with that). There is a heavy focus and even heavier propaganda throughout the clones' childhood of how they are, in a very real sense, being raised for the Jedi. It is also very heavily referenced that the Jedi as a whole do not know about the Clone yet, since they were a surprise.

The 10,000 who were being raised for a specific Jedi grew up with every piece of information that could be found about their Jedi. Their training was tailored to the Jedid they were assigned to.  The information/propaganda/brainwashing was so specific for these 10,000 that after about the age of 3 chronologically, (a variety of ages physically, though age 6 is the most common for the clone that are meant to go to the adult Jedi), the clones whose Jedi died before they could meet could not be retrained. Instead their fellow clones consider them to be a living memorial for the lost Jedi (It is a really weird cultural development, but both Sifo-Dyas and Dooku allow it-They want the Clones as a culture to be in a symbiotic relationship with the Jedi and this fit in with that). 

Sifo-Dyas’s plan did derail Dooku’s fall entirely, instead of causing Sifo-dyas’s death Dooku ghosted Palpatine around the time of the Naboo invasion. It never occurs to Dooku to let anyone know that Palpatine is a Sith. 

Fast forward about 10 years, Dooku and Sifo-Dyas construct a far too complicated, dramatic plan to lure Obi Wan to Kamino. As far as they are concerned it is only right that Obi Wan gets ‘his’ clone protector, Cody, first (as Dooku’s grand padawan).  It actually somewhat mirrors cannon, in that Anakin is sent on a mission to escort Senator Padme Amidala to Naboo (this is actually a separate plan by Palptine, who is trying to corrupt Anakin.In this Padme has been little more than a puppet for Palpatine for years-Her will is so strong that she has retained little bits of her own sense of self, as long as Palpatine is not in the equation but nothing like what she should have been)  alone, as a test to see how ready he is to take his trials. Dooku then hires a bounty hunter, not Jango Fett, to lure Obi Wan to Kamino. 

Obi Wan is met on Kamino by the Kaminoans first but also an all but visibly vibrating Cody. This Cody is radiating adoration and glee into the Force at finally meeting ‘his’ Jedi. It should be noted that Cody’s presence in the Force could not have been more perfect for Obi Wan. Cody gives the full tour to a mildly shellshocked Obi Wan; including introducing him to Rex, who has been raised for Anakin (I debated Rex going to Anakin or Ahsoka, but ultimately decided that Echo and Fives (together as twins) were meant for Ahsoka). They end the tour with a meeting with Dooku and Sifo Dyas who explain the clones.  

Now Dooku and Sifo-Dyas deliberately have Cody stay while they explain who and what the clones were meant to be.  Obi Wan already does not want to hurt Cody and there are only so many ways one can say ‘What the fuck do you mean cloned protectors?’ and all of them could be read as a rejection of the clones themselves. Dooku also manages to make it clear to Obi Wan without stating it outright, thus in Obi Wan’s eyes leaving Cody in the dark, that if the Jedi Order rejects the clones they (the clones) will all be killed as defective.

So now Obi Wan gets to make a very carefully worded call to the Jedi High Council about the new 100,000 lives they need to become responsible for (who will be murdered if they don’t), of which about 10,000 have been brainwashed so thoroughly that barring them from ‘their Jedi’ might actually cause very real psychological harm.  Also politically the Jedi appears to have just acquired an army, possibly of slaves.

Like, even without the war, the sheer magnitude of What the Fuck that comes with ‘These people think we own them, their entire sense of self rests on how well they serve us. How do we tell them we don’t without breaking their sense of self’. Also being told that Dooku and Sifo-Dyas, who have not technically broken any laws(they used Dooku’s money instead of the Jedi’s so there is not even any fraud), would continue to have the Kaminoans produce clones and give them to the Jedi Order until the 1 million already paid for have been decanted. 

I am just saying, everyone on the high council needed to take a minute. Obi Wan also needed to take a minute. Oddly enough Obi Wan’s minute of panic came just before Anakin would have slaughtered the Tuskens (Controlled Padme was under orders to get Anakin in as many situations as possible that would cause him to reach for the dark. Including following a vision of his mother dying). That moment of panic disrupted the rage and pain enough that Anakin did not reach for the dark side or slaughter the Tuskens.  He escaped with his mothers body instead. 

They manage to get all 100,000 clones back to the Coruscant Temple without causing a panic or a diplomatic incident with the Senate (in spite of Palpatine watching like a hawk for anything he could use to discredit the Jedi, after his most reliable source of information ghosted him).  Then the Jedi made a point of asking each and every clone what they actually wanted to do (they were truly at a loss as to what else to do). Of the 90,000 generally trained, about 500 did not want to be protectors of the Jedi. As the Jedi’s response is immediately ‘Do you know what you want to do? If not, we can help you figure it out. We can get you education and whatever resources you want to pursue your dream’ with the manic air of someone who really wants help but has no idea how to, caused the remaining 89,500 generally trained clones to not just cement but weld their loyalties to the Jedi. Like they were all ready to die for the Jedi before, because of propaganda,  but now that they were even more amazing than the Clones had thought…now the loyalty of these clones is that much deeper (frankly the Jedi remain worried about this). For the 10,000 clones that were trained for specific Jedi, they actually had to stop asking because without fail the thought of not being able to protect ‘their’ Jedi led to a panic attack. 

So now we have the Jedi who have kinda been forced to accept these protectors and companions.  The adult Jedi are working really hard to figure out a balance between trying to break the brainwashing and letting the clones have the autonomy to act on their own desires (since their desires are ‘protect the Jedi’). The children in the Creche were simply introduced to their companions with the hope that being raised together can mitigate some of the training (This also means that the creche and classes have to be rapidly adjusted so that they can accommodate the clones as well). 

For some angsty flavor, we see the Jedi coming to love (romantic, familial, sexual, platonic, or other) their Clone companions and being constantly beset by thought of ‘how can I act on these feelings, they don’t have a choice’ and ‘they think the belong to me…?’. And as far as the clones are concerned everything that their Jedi does reinforces how they are deserving of the clones' loyalty and love.

Note: I do want you all to know that sudden addition of Rex following Anakin around AND the lack of war did derail Anidala before it began

#star wars the clone wars #fanfiction prompt #star wars au #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #codywan #blyla #the clones deserved better #the clones love the jedi #sifo dyas #yan dooku #padme amidala

[nepentheisms]

Trigun Bookclub: Some Very Long-Winded Final Thoughts (for now)

So what's my takeaway after all this discussion about the allusions to religious concepts and narratives in Trigun? What conclusions does the story draw about faith? And are there any theological ramifications to its message?

From my perspective, the belief system Trigun promotes is a broadly defined humanism that isn't bound by any religious tradition. Declarations of faith in this story are more often directed at individual people or humanity as a whole than toward a god or metaphysical concept. Trigun says that the purest and most fundamental faith is our belief in one another and in our collective capacity for good, and the specifics of any one person's faith are worth pursuing so long as it keeps them in the business of living and engaging compassionately with other sentient beings.

In Trigun's larger thesis on faith, there's also a notable emphasis on the drive for continued life and hope for a future that can be built in the present world as opposed to glorifying death in the service of grandiose ideals, especially if those ideals center on seeing the world as irredeemable and in need of destruction. And it's through this message of continued striving in the here and now that I think Trigun brings up its own point of contention against a particular theological perspective. What we have in Trigun is a firm rejection of apocalypticism.

According to the Critical Dictionary of Apocalyptic and Millenarian Movements, apocalypticism is the "belief in the impending or possible destruction of the world itself or physical global catastrophe, and/or the destruction or radical transformation of the existing social, political, or religious order of human society—often referred to as the apocalypse." In Christianity, this perspective is clearly seen in futurist interpretations of the book of Revelation (the Greek root word for apocalypse - apokalypsis, means revelation or unveiling). This eschatological approach treats the text as a prophetic outline of the end of the world in which God brings judgment through a series of cataclysms and then secures an everlasting paradise for the faithful.

Revelation 21:1-4 (NRSV):

(1) Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. (2) And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. (3) And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them: they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; (4) he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away."

As we all know, Knives loves to position himself as a bringer of divine judgment in the same vein as the Abrahamic God.

To Knives, humans are a source of evil that have to be purged from his world; salvation for his chosen people (plants - the higher beings) can only come through mass death. The realization of Knives' apocalypse is doomsday for humankind. No surprise then that in his followers (some of whom revere him like a deity), we see the sentiments of a doomsday cult. To Legato, service to the supreme being is his sole purpose in life; if Knives commands him to die, then he'll die gladly. For Elendira, the most glorious service to the supreme being is to facilitate his vision for the end of the world, and she wants nothing more than to see it happen. And in Chapel, we see the cruelty and cynicism promoted by the apocalyptic mindset: If the end is inevitable, then all efforts to protect what we have in this world are futile, so what value is there in choosing to be merciful?

The immense harm dealt by real religious groups that hold similar beliefs to these is difficult to overstate. So long as any atrocity in the temporal world can be justified when committed in deference to what are taught to be higher spiritual principles, there are no ethical boundaries these groups won't transgress. Japanese society in recent history has, in fact, had significant experiences with violent apocalyptic fanaticism. The most well-known of these occurred on March 20, 1995, in which the doomsday cult Aum Shinrikyo carried out its deadly sarin gas attack in the Tokyo Metro subway system. An act of religious terrorism left many dead and thousands injured, all because some people were convinced the world was ending, and it was to their benefit and everyone else's benefit if they could make it end faster.

The doctrine of Aum Shinrikyo was a mishmash of Hindu, Buddhist, and Christian concepts, and Christian eschatological views on Armageddon were especially influential to cult leader Shoko Asahara's prophecies in the time leading up to the attack. Common threads in books of the Christian Bible with apocalyptic elements include emphasis on the corrupting nature of the present world and promises of eternal unity with God after a final war in which Christ emerges victorious against all evil. These ideas are also disconcertingly influential in mainstream American Evangelical Protestant Christianity. Even in the most nonviolent Christians who would never dream of associating with extremists, it's not hard to find an underlying cynicism and detachment with regard to living life in the present. There's the notion that the world is fundamentally broken and sinful, and believers should look forward to God's destruction and remaking of it, because perfect happiness can only come in the thereafter.

1 John 2:15-17 (NRSV):

(15) Do not love the world or the things in the world. The love of the Father is not in those who love the world, (16) for all that is in the world—the desire of the flesh, the desire of the eyes, the pride in riches—comes not from the Father but from the world. (17) And the world and its desire are passing away, but those who do the will of God abide forever.

From such a perspective, hope is primarily oriented toward some indefinite point in the future that will come to pass via the eradication of every imperfection that marks the present. What happens in the story of Trigun, however, is an overturning of the apocalyptic narrative. The climax of Trigun Maximum invokes the fantastical imagery of Revelation, creating the impression of a stage set for the definitive final battle between the embodiments of good and evil, but then the story pushes back against the narrative conventions of apocalypticism. There is no end of days, no destruction and re-creation of the world, because it was averted by radical human hope for compassionate understanding in the here and now. And there is no ultimate triumph of Good over Evil in which Satan is cast into the lake of fire. In fact, there may not even be a "Satan" in this story at all.

When Knives collects his sisters into an amalgamated body, his form and theirs take on a draconic appearance, bringing to mind the red dragon of Revelation (that is, Satan). In Knives' own mind, however, he's God pouring out his divine wrath on the humans who've sinned against him, and there are angelic elements to his design as well to reflect this. Ultimately, his form doesn't hold. Vash and his human allies manage a breakthrough in communicating with the collective body of dependent plants, and when Knives is cast to the earth (in another departure from Revelation, this doesn't occur as the outcome of heavenly forces battling against him), he faces Vash one last time as just a man - Vash's brother who's lashing out because he never processed his extreme childhood trauma. Because maybe in the end these forces of absolute good and absolute evil don't exist; maybe our willingness to imagine God and the Devil was always the product of our own messy, conflicted humanity in all its potential for good and evil.

The resolution, then, happens not through one brother killing the other, but through connection and understanding, a little push toward a kinder existence for everyone. Knives ends up having to place his trust in the very humans he hated in order to save his brother's life, and his faith is rewarded. For Vash and the rest of humanity, life goes on; it goes on in an imperfect present, but it's a present where there's plenty of joy to be found nonetheless. So the story closes out under a bright blue sky with the assurance that the song of humanity still sang. There's no looming threat of doomsday, just a path forward toward more life.

#trigunbookclub #trigun #trigun maximum #ow my brain I need a break from writing #trigun meta #Guns&God meta #religion mention #christianity mention #cults cw #terrorism cw #long post

[violetganache42]

Some of my biggest takeaways from tonight's 🏳️‍🌈GAY NIGHT🏳️‍🌈 in a somewhat particular order but not really(?):

"EW, HUMANS!"

The narrators being super into narrating the movie's shorts

Learning Gauchito and Burrito have Disney parks mascot costumes in France for some reason

"Have you ever been to Baía, Donald?"

Me: "Fantasia but high"

"HERE HE IS"

AUTISM BIRD

GAY 🏳️‍🌈

🎶WE'RE THREE CABALLEROS, THREE GAY CABALLEROS🎶

Bisexuality: The Movie 🩷💜💙

WriteBackAtYa: "So how do we end this movie?" Mina: "Kill Donald with fireworks. Happy fucking birthday."

Pine Tree and I getting to watch DuckTales together again

Scrooge being a lil' hater throughout the episode

Me sending these specific GIFs when those moments occur

The return of "Liar, liar. Cheek bulges on fire."

"The Bite of '87 real!"

Godfrey: "GET HIM SCROOGE" Me:

Monty Python and the Holy Grail quotes

Pressing F to pay respects for Dewey's phone

Speaking of which, Dewey "posting cringe" on his Instagram

If anyone has their favorite highlights from the watch party, feel free to share them here, or heck, in a separate post. I feel like we should all make this a tradition. XD

#my post #duckblr movie night #dt cafeteria table #duckblr #the three caballeros #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #ducktales reboot #ducktales season 2 #the town where everyone was nice!

[slavonicrhapsody]

I'm still trying to take in these complicated words like Praetor and Inquisition

I don't know all the words in English or other languages so sometimes there are old words I don't know

But Praetor is like a high ranked official in an Inquisition that's like a controlling government/organisation that would eliminate anything that threaten its ideals or its authority correct? The ideals,the power they enforce is a set of rules they created right?

I think I heard a few things about Rykard killing heretics before he became Snakey Ryck and from what I know,an Inquisition hates heretics so that might've been his job too,including various other tasks

Honestly you would be fucked too if killing people is a job you do

In real life, “praetor” was a magisterial title granted by the government of Ancient Rome. The main functions of a praetor were administration of civil law, military command, judges in courts of law, and the governing of provinces. From Gideon, we learn that “Praetor Rykard is the Lord of the Volcano Manor on Mt. Gelmir. He is a ruthless justiciar who commands a company of inquisitors,” so in the Elden Ring universe, we can assume that the duties of a praetor involve enforcing law. Additionally, we are told Rykard led an Inquisition: in real life, historically, ��the Inquisition” referred to institutions of the Catholic Church which were created to combat heresy and conduct trials of suspected heretics. So not only was Rykard responsible for enforcing law, but it was specifically religious law. And given the fact that Rykard is specifically referred to as a “traitor” by those affiliated with the Erdtree, we can safely assume that he served the Golden Order before betraying it. We can also find several golden tree banners in some of Volcano Manor’s abandoned cells, suggesting that the castle was at one point Erdtree-affiliated:

Exploring Volcano Manor, there can be little doubt as to what Rykard’s duties as Praetor involved. On the upper floor, we can be invaded by Inquisitor Ghiza, who wears the blue Official’s Attire: “Grubby blue robe worn by magisterial officials to carry out their grim tasks. Surveillance, executions, gruesome rituals... The darkest duties drive the wheels of mankind.” The inquisitors who worked under Rykard were responsible for many such “grim tasks:” Ghiza’s Wheel, as well as the Inquisitor’s Girandole, are explicitly identified as weapons of torture:

“Great iron wheel lined with flesh-flaying blades. Device of torture used by Inquisitor Ghiza.”

“Instrument of torture used on nobles behind the curtain at the Volcano Manor of Mt. Gelmir. Its numerous spikes pierce the flesh, then singe the wounds with flame. The smell of burnt blood induces despair in the victim. A candlestick conceived by a thorough mind.”

The more you poke around Volcano Manor, the more instruments of torture you’ll find in the background too, like this lovely spiked chair:

There’s also the whole existence of “Prison Town” in the first place — filled with cells and cages, it’s clear where the Inquisition housed its unfortunate prisoners. And speaking of unfortunate prisoners, the dungeons are packed full of Albinaurics stuck in various torture devices, including the “Black Dumpling:”

“Mask forced on a victim's head to lend torture an extra degree of cruelty. It magnifies one's fears and makes them acutely aware of all forms of pain. […] When the Black Dumpling goes on, the torturer no longer seeks answers; only to inflict suffering without hope of relief."

Anyway, Rykard’s previous occupation is what makes his character arc ironic; he was the guy who enforced law, but ended up betraying it. The main takeaway is that everything I’ve talked about here is Golden Order-sanctioned violence… Rykard was always committing horrific acts of violence, but the Golden Order actively encouraged this violence until Rykard dared to turn it against them instead.

#elden ring #rykard #rykard lord of blasphemy #elden ring lore #asks #mt gelmir is not only a testament to rykard’s depravity but also the golden order’s #you might even say it was the golden order that encouraged him to be like that in the first place… #much to think about

[twig-tea]

Love in the Big City Part 2: Emotional Distance

One of @bengiyo's great discussion questions for this section was about effective distance, and I thought this was so interesting because Young's narrative style seems to already be doing that for us. Besides the clearly distancing tactic of not giving Hyung a name, Young's unreliable narration around his own emotions that I talked about in my post for Part 1 seems to be holding true for this second Part--Young is dissociated from a lot what he's feeling and barely describes it to us; often he doesn't even name it, and he mentions that he often doesn't understand what he's feeling. I could not get over the fact that Young says outright that in order to better understand his own emotional reactions he enrolled in a Philosophy of Emotions course.

PHILOSOPHY! OF! EMOTIONS!

The most intellectualizing, distancing course you could take to help you 'understand' without actually experiencing any emotion. And so when he meets Hyung in this course, he recognizes something in Hyung. Like @wen-kexing-apologist mentioned, Young sees himself in Hyung and that seems to be (at least the initial) attraction.

@hyeoni-comb wrote here about how Young and Hyung were using one another in their loneliness, that Young's relationship with Hyung was reminiscent of his relationship with his mother in that none of these characters were comfortable being vulnerable with one other. @my-rose-tinted-glasses also mentioned Young's contempt for these two characters; it struck me reading these posts how both Hyung and Young's mother were a part of something that excluded/judged Young for who he was, and that resulted in real or imagined surveillance of them that caused them to hide truths about themselves in public in order to not lose their statuses in their groups, which Young judged them for. Young is already so much an outsider that he judges anyone for their in-group behaviours, even though he then does the same thing with Hyung and his own mother. The traits in other people that upset us the most tend to be ones we refuse to see in ourselves.

At the same time I sympathize strongly with the hurt that Young experienced at the hands of these characters. One of the shittiest feelings is having sex with someone who is ashamed of wanting to have sex with you, and knowing that whatever your feeling is doomed because the other person can't let themselves feel it back. When Young found those browser windows my heart plummeted for him. It must have felt like such a betrayal, in the way that his mother hospitalizing him must have felt like a similar betrayal. Both of those moments were a realization that these people he loved thought there was something fundamentally 'wrong' with him (and in the case of Hyung, with himself too).

But I think what my biggest takeaway was with regard to the way this section was written was how it highlighted the loneliness of Young, picking up from something @bengiyo pointed out in his Part 1 post. @profiterole-reads pointed out how Jaehee's absence in this part stood out to them. What stood out to me in her absence was how alone Young was with his mother's illness. In the flashbacks to five years ago, his relationship with Hyung was in the dark, in the evenings, stolen time outside of hospital visiting hours, outside daylight. It seemed clear, to me, that this thing they had in common--a mother hospitalized and ashamed of the reason why--was something that connected them but also not something they shared with one another in a meaningful way. But five years later the situation is even worse; Young's mother is back in hospital, but he doesn't even have the break/distraction that Hyung had provided. And both times he clearly doesn't have Jaehee either. She's recently married, so it makes some sense she would not be readily available necessarily, but we don't find out if Young ever even just complained about having to go to the hospital to her. It makes sense that since Jaehee was absent from his life during this period five years ago that he wouldn't be thinking about or remembering her this second time either, since the repetition is clearly causing him to reminisce. And I couldn't help thinking, what would this part of his life had been like if Jaehee were still actively in it? It sounded like the stories he was writing were the kind he used to tell Jaehee about either when he got home or in the morning after--Would he have gotten as into writing if he had still had that outlet in his life?

I had to wonder, too, if Hyung sent him the manuscript because his mother also was still/once again in hospital. Were they both experiencing this repeat experience of five years ago at the same time?

#litbc book club #love in the big city #typed so that i can stop thinking it

[jmdbjk]

BTS: Beyond the Story

These are just my personal thoughts and opinions after finishing the book. I don't quote the book in this blog post. I don't talk about specific topics so I don't really give any spoilers. But I do talk about my thoughts on what I've read. If you don’t want to know ANYTHING about the book, keep scrolling.

My overall impression: Wow. Amazing.

I have learned so much. If you've been with me a while on this blog, you may already know that my BTS journey began right before the release of Map of the Soul:7.

My journey could be described as: if you will, visualize opening a Google map and dragging that little Street View dude/dudette to the middle of a huge city and dropping him/her/them there and then just moving along in street view as you explore. I was that little guy going this way and that trying to consume BTS content and trying to make sense of it all but I was zig zagging backwards and forwards in time with no view from above to see where I was going or where I had been. I'd watch something that would lead me this way and then the next thing I watched would propel me back in time and then I'd have to stop and watch the current Run BTS (show) as it dropped and I was ALL. OVER. THE. PLACE. consuming content back and forth chronologically and it was difficult to put it all in order because there is so much content available on so many different platforms.

But this book lays it out all nice in a straight line with the visual, musical and information references to go with everything. I LOVE IT! I feel like I graduated from Bangtan Academy with an undergrad degree in BTSology.

And now in their own words I have a much better understanding of their process as they worked on specific albums and songs, what their motivations, fears, happiness and goals were. And what the songs, albums and concepts were about, what the lyrics meant to them.

My personal takeaways:

• The members struggled with imposter syndrome as they experienced success and the more popular they became. A lot of times they were unsure if they deserved the success they were achieving. Each success made them work hard for the next goal but the sudden overwhelming global recognition was hard to handle.

• They consider this their job. They understand its a business that exists to make money. And most of the time, they love this job. And they work very hard at it.

• At the same time, they also define themselves strongly as members of BTS. They are a team who know each others strengths and weaknesses.

• Their bond with each other is rare in the entertainment world.

• They each describe themselves very clearly.

• I am seeing JM and JK in a new light here. Jimin and Jungkook's words and thoughts impressed me. Their poise and awareness and eloquence even when they were explaining how they were struggling and wondering if what they were doing was right and going to work. Their determination can be felt in their words as they explain how they wondered if they would make it, and once they did, how would they survive the pressure. Jimin was always tuned in emotionally to what was going on.

• Jungkook is wise beyond his years. His baby image is not real. Many are not giving him the credit he deserves when it comes to knowing what he’s doing. He grew up fast in a world we know nothing about because we don't live in it.

• The fact that Jimin and Jungkook's trip to Tokyo has its own section under the title "Real" Love is mind blowing.

• The relationship of the group and the company working together to make it all happen was one of the reasons they made it. Their mentor Bang Si-Hyuk, nurtured their art and pushed them until they soared. And every one of them speaks highly of Bang PD.

• The haters, the amount of hate and the types of hate aimed at them was unbelievable. I always thought there was a little exaggeration in regards to that but no. Some form of hate/backlash/bullying/efforts to discredit them, was there from the beginning, from all sides. It is a fucking miracle they are still with us. I am in awe of their ability to walk through that fire.

• I feel like my habit of looking at the "big picture" gained a wider scope into their world.

I will re-read and refer to some of my favorite content not included in the QR codes in the book so I can see if what I know now changes how I feel. Hopefully I will come away with a post-grad degree in BTSology after that.

The vernacular in translating Korean to English is not a smooth word for word translation so I think some of the passion and emotion in what the members were trying to convey does not easily come across with as much emphasis as it probably was said during their interviews but it does not diminish the meaning of what they said. When I re-read I am going to really concentrate on hearing their own voices as I read the member's words again.

The only real issue I had and it is very minor: the method of using italicized all-caps for the lengthy album titles became burdensome to read. THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MOMENT IN LIFE: PT. 1; THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MOMENT IN LIFE: PT. 2 and THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MOMENT IN LIFE: YOUNG FOREVER were a lot for my eyeballs and brain to handle when they were repeated again and again in paragraph after paragraph.

#bts: beyond the story #my heart lurched many times while reading

[palant1r]

something i've come to realize about the "contradictory logic" or "hypocrisy" of the USamerican right is that there rarely is a contradiction present. usually those two seemingly incompatible positions result from the same underlying belief, and calling out that hypocrisy doesn't actually address that belief

for example: why do conservatives care so much about "groomers" and protecting kids when it comes to restricting trans rights but are silent on the catholic church or the boy scouts of america?

a potential answer might be that they don't care about kids at all, that they'll say whatever preserves existing power, but...i dont think that's quite right.

the christian far right cares a great deal about children. but to them, children are not small humans with autonomy and rights. they are symbols of the future and seeds of what the political and social landscape of america will develop into. the right of the parent to control the child represents not just choices for a child's personal welfare, but choices regarding the exposure of the child to certain influences, because they believe that preserving the right to control children is the only way to make sure those children grow up Good and in turn make america Good. there is a very real anxiety there about society and their children turning out Bad, and the right to act on that anxiety trumps any rights a child might have, which are usually not considered.

the fear of children being harmed by "trans ideology" and "groomers" is a very real one, but the fear does not stem primarily from actual concern over the violation of a child's autonomy and safety. the fear is the imposition of the Other, the Degenerate, on the "blank slate" of a nation's future. while sexual assault by established institutions of power may cause outrage on an individual level, it does not galvanize the american far right because, even if only subconsciously, they view the Established Christian Moral Order as having a right to the bodies and minds of children that is essential to ensure its continued supremacy, so they downplay, deny or justify the abuse it commits. if this sounds fascist...yeah it is lol.

similarly, it is not a contradiction that recent gender affirming care bans for minors call surgery and hormones "experimental" then turn around and carve out exceptions for intersex children regardless of medical necessity and informed consent. gender essentialism is a foundational ideal of the right wing. the idea that there are two sexes, gender is meaningless, and those sexes are meant to have monogamous relationships with the opposite sex that engage in sexual conduct procreatively after marriage. any extant deviation from this is an existential threat. transition care for transgender people violates this doctrine, so it must be fought. intersex people do not fit into this paradigm, and because this paradigm is The Right And Good Way Of The World, that means they must be disabled or disordered. medicine must be used in service of enforcing this paradigm.

this is also why conservatives are going after asexual people. the far christian right doesn't hate sex, per se. in this worldview, sex has a very specific role and position that must be enshrined as absolute. eschewing sex altogether, or any other variance in sexual attraction that makes up the ace spectrum, is a rejection of the sacred position sex holds. it's not actually a separate justification from homophobia, just two manifestations of the same worldview.

anyway. the takeaway here is that exclusionism or any form of label separatism/policing is a psyop

#andy rambles #transphobia

[ohtobeleah]

Roll Of The Dice // Jake Seresin

Chapter Four: “What’s Even Real”

Summary: Jake Seresin has never been a believer in life after death, but when he’s caught in a comatose realm stuck between reality and fantasy—what else is there to do but dream?

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader Jake Seresin Angst. Hospitalisation. Grief of a loved one. Slow decline into grief induced madness. Bradley Bradshaw x platonic!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Author Note: Well. A phatt 85% of you voted for me to flip the story and here you go. I actually LOVE how this series is taking a drastic turn. But just so we’re all on the same page. There is NO HAPPY ENDING. (Also shut the fuck up I’m still on a break)

Series Masterlist

(Naval Hospital– Jacksonville, Florida. – Present Day)

Bradley Bradshaw had never been good with hospitals. His therapist had told him once that his ever growing hatred towards the far too sterile environment was due to the fact both his mother and father had passed away in hospital beds surrounded by doctors and nurses who he couldn't really give a shit about enough to remember there names.

But here he was, walking down the hall towards room one hundred and nine of the intensive care unit at the Naval hospital in Jacksonville, Florida. Bradley carried two takeaway coffees, one in each hand as nurses who had become all too familiar with the mustache-clad aviator smiled politely and sent him solemn looks of hopefulness that today might very well be the day. But he knows it's just something they’re taught in medical school. Compassion. Empathy for the friends and family members of the loved ones laying near dead, dying or recovering. Bradley didn't know what category to put Jake Seresin in at the moment, they hadnt really been all that chummy prior to the accident. Not friends nor foes. Just long-term acquaintances who loved you both dearly.

Bradley Bradshaw had known you for his entire life, uncle Sliders kid. The military brat with the heart of gold, thousand watt smile and even bigger attitude. It's probably what drew you and Jake Seresin together. That all too similar attitude and love for a good taunt. Rooster always did catch himself wondering what you saw in him, but then again, beauty was forever in the eye of the beholder. 

“Hey, sorry–the line was crazy today.” Bradley cooed as he knocked with one knuckle on the door that had been slightly ajar. Stepping in, the steady beeping of Jake's heart rate monitor filled the room. “How's he been?” 

“No change–” Was all you mumbled as you looked up from watching Jake breath with assistance to reach out for your coffee order Bradley had had the chance to remember off by heart. “You just missed the Doc.” Bradley could tell just how tired you were just by the way your eyes looked sunken, he knew you weren't sleeping, weren’t eating. He knew that you hadn’t left Jake's side since he was brought into his room. “She said that there's definitely brain activity going on–said he must be dreaming.” You smiled at the thought, you hoped whatever Jake was dreaming of was a hell of alot better than what he would wake up to. “The swellings gone down quite a bit, but it’s just up to him if he wants to fight to come back.”

Bradley moved across the room, grabbing the chair that sat empty in the corner of the room to drag it over to where you sat at your fiance's beside. Like every time he came to visit, he sat with a sigh, leaned into where you sat and kissed your cheek softly, a reassurance he was here for you. 

“Sounds promising.” Bradley pressed his lips together before he took a sip of his coffee, watching as you did the same. “Dice, you look like crap.” 

“I'm gonna let you get away with that one purely because I feel like crap.” You chuckled softly, but it had been just enough to coax the corner of your mouth into a curve. Oh how Bradley missed the sound of your laugh, you were one of his closest friends. Seeing you hurt and struggling through such a crisis made his heart ache worse than he ever imagined it could. From what Rooster could remember of his parents love, they set such a high standard Bradley didn’t know if he’d ever have a chance of replicating—he thought if anything he’d get to live long enough to live vicariously through your love for Jake and watch you thrive in some fairytale life with Hangman that he’d be happy enough with that. But that all seemed so up in the air now.

But here you both sat, watching Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin breathe assisted with tubes of all kinds shoved down his throat. Barely recognisable from the swelling, the cuts, stitches and bruises that littered his face. You could tell he was still your Jake though. 

“If you wanna go home, get some rest? I can stay here with him for as long as you need.” Bradley knew what the answer was going to be before you even shook your head. Letting your gaze linger back on the gentle rise and fall of Jake's chest. 

“No thanks, I wouldn’t want to miss anything—“ It was hard not to cry, but as you tried to coax your fiancé to come back to you? The tears just fell so effortlessly. “He knows I’m here.” 

You carried far too much guilt on your own shoulders for what happened. Jake, although an amazing partner—was an even better wingman. He’d come after you when things got a little too out of control during a recent detachment. He’d saved your life and sacrificed his own. When you’d both been brought back to Florida of all places—You’d asked one of the nurses to contact Bradley for you, he’d been on some carrier somewhere in the middle of the ocean—but he pulled whatever strings he could to get back to you. 

“Jake would want you to take care of yourself if anything Dice, he loves you so much.” Bradley placed a hand on your knee, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the soft grey material of your sweatpants. “You aren’t gonna be any good to him when he finally wakes up if you can’t even keep your eyes open.” 

“He’s such an idiot.” You scoffed, your moods had been vile the last few weeks. You were sleep deprived, hungry, running of steam fueled by Starbucks caffeine and sugar free red bulls from the vending machine. “He shouldn’t have come after me, gives me a goddamn headache just thinking about it, it should have—“ A sob ripped through your chest and you were gone in seconds. Your bottom lip quivered as you fell into a heap against Jake's side, your hand reaching for his as Bradley rubbed a comforting circle against your arched back. “So so so dumb Rooster—he should have just let it be me.” It was supposed to be you. 

“If there’s one person on this planet Hangman would want to die saving Dice, it would be you.” It was hard to hear but Bradley knew you had to hear it. “He would do anything to keep you out of harm's way.” 

“Yeah well, what am I supposed to do if he doesn’t wake up, Rooster?” Rising from the side of Jakes hospital bed, you crossed your legs up into the chair you were perched on. “What if he just doesn’t wake up? And he gets trapped in the dreamscape world his mind is creating while I'm out here, all alone?” Bradley knew the breakdown was coming, he had seen it racing towards him at a million miles an hour over the last few days. Not taking care of yourself while giving your all to someone else was a tiring effort that broke the strongest of souls on their best days. You were only human, a much loved one at that. You didn't deserve this, Jake didn't deserve this. 

“Hey.” Rooster cooed, cupping your cheeks as he gently pressed the pads of his thumbs against your swollen cheeks to wipe away the tears. “Hey, Dice, look at me yeah?” You did hesitantly, not ready to take your eyes away from Jake, your Jake, your darling Hangman, your soon to be husband. “Dice, hell will freeze over before Jake Seresin gives up fighting, it’s Jake we’re talking about right?” 

“I just really really miss him Roo–” You could barely hold your head up with how tired you were, falling into Roosters chest as you sobbed your heart out. It broke his heart to know you were in such anguish. “Every fucking breath that I take since he left feels like a waste on me.” 

“He's here Y/n.” Bradley didn't know what else to do except hold you tight, hold you close as you cried in his arms. Over your shoulder, Bradley took in the sight of Jake Seresin, laying there in his hospital bed, with machines surrounding him helping him do the most mundane task of all. Breathe. Jake had always been the better of them, he didn't ever think, he would just always do. He was the Hangman, the top of his class, the cockiest fighter pilot Rooster had ever had the displeasure of knowing. 

But now? well–Rooster kind of wished that he’d given Jake more of a chance, perhaps there was some perplexing rhythm and reason why Jake was the way he was and did the things and did and said the stupid things he said. 

“He’s here, Doc said that, didn't she? He’s here, just needs some time to find his way back.” 

“I'm losing my goddamn mind Bradshaw.” Stifling a laugh, you sat back up, you wiped your tears and fixed yourself up. Taking a sip of the coffee Bradley had brought you to keep you alert. You had had your moment, now it was time to be brave, be there for Jake when he woke up. “I don't know how much more of this I can take before I lose my mind.” 

“How about I go grab you some food?” Rooster simply asked, standing as he kissed the top of your head. “You like that sushi place down the road, yeah?” 

“M’not that hungry–” 

“I don't care, you need to eat, you can't just–” Before Rooster could finish saying that you couldn't just not eat, you were snapping at him. It wasn't the first time but it was still rather jarring. 

“I said im not hungry, Rooster, you want food fine, go get yourself something, but im not fucking hungry.” It wasn't entirely your fault, Bradley knew it was coming from a place of despair and heartbreak. You couldn't control anything happening around you so you clung to something you could. He’d remembered that from therapy. 

“Okay, well, I'm gonna go grab something to eat and I'll be back okay?” Bradley wasn't expecting an answer, he didn't get one either. All that met him in response was the monotone beeping of Jake Seresins heart rate monitor and the overbearing shattering sound of your own. Pressing his lips together as he shoved his fist into his pocket to fish out his phone. Bradley turned on his heels as he left the room. Leaving you to sit in your own existential crisis.

“Hey kid, how's she doing?” Slider greeted Bradley from the otherside of the phone as he left the same way he came in, passing by the same nurses that now didn't even pay him any attention. Their minds on new patients, new charts to read, new turns of events. 

“I'm really worried about her, she's not eating, not sleeping, she's not doing well at all and I don't know how to help her.” It was the honest truth, Bradley didn't. He didn't know how to help pick up the pieces. Slider, your dad, although a million miles away–felt closer than ever when he brought up Bradley's own mum. 

“You were the same when Carole died kid, wouldn't let a single person help you until you hit rock bottom.” Slider sighed as Braldey pressed the button on the elevator. “She's gonna hit it eventually and when she does it's gonna be brutal but you’ll be there, just don't smother her, treat her like you normally would, watch over her but dont force her to do anything she doesn't want to do.” It was the advice Rooster had been seeking. He knew your dad would know what to say, how to keep him on the straight and narrow. “When she hits that wall you’ll know, because instead of pushing you away she’s gonna grip on, hold tight and not let go for love nor money, Goose.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

(North Island —Hard Deck Bar, October 16th 2014) 

“I’m here–” It came out more reluctantly than you really meant it to. But the way Jake Seresin jumped as you came up behind him and made your presence known had you breaking out into a fit of giggles on the front deck of the Hard Deck. 

“Fuck–” Jake groaned as he turned around and held his hand to his tan covered heart. “Why are you so quiet? You move like a goddamn prius?” You didn't know you could roll your eyes as hard as you did. 

“Can we just get this over and done with already?” You sighed dramatically, pushing past Jake as you made your way inside. He was hot on your tail, opening the door for you like the true southern gentleman that his mother had raised him to be. “Oh, thanks.” You hadn’t expected it, no one had ever opened a door for you like Jake had just done. Sure men held doors open in coffee shops in passing before, but this had been an intentional act. Jake had a pep in his step to reach the door before you could. “Why would you do that?” 

“We’re on a date.” It was the cheesy grin you received in return that had you rolling your eyes twice as hard as you;d just done, surprising yourself once more at the diameter they could actually roll. Jake stood there holding the door for you—gesturing for you to step inside. “And my mother would slap me across the face full force if she saw my date opening doors all by herself.” 

“Hangman I really don’t think this classifies as a date.” You tried to shut down the idea before it could bloom into something bigger inside Jake's head. But you were already too late. “I asked if you wanted to grab something to eat and have a couple of beers after work—to get to know my wingman.”

“Oh Lieutenant Dixon, if I can help it? You and I aren't just gonna be just wingman and wingwoman.” Jake shook his head. “So humour me a little, entertain the idea for a single night?” You stood in silence for a mere minute before finally admitting defeat. “One date—“ Stepping inside as Jake led you over to the nearest open bar table with a hand pressed to the small of your back, guiding you through. 

“One date is all you’re gonna get, Headache.” You groaned as Jake pulled the bar chair out from underneath the small round table. He watched as you sat down with a reluctant gruff. Laughing to himself at how easy it was to get under your skin. 

“One date is all I need to make you fall in love with me.” Jake replied as he walked around to find his own chair, handing you the menu as he waved over at Bill, the barkeep. “And just so we’re on the same page here sweetheart—“ Jake leaned in closer to you over the table, watching with hooded eyes and a wicked grin as you did the same. Mimicking him. “You’re a terrible wingwoman, so don’t think falling in love with me will affect your already atrocious aviation skills.” 

“Careful there Hangman.” It wasn’t that you couldn’t already feel yourself gravitating towards Jake, it was that you were scared of just how far the two of you were willing to let this go before pumping the breaks. “Anyone with eyes glued onto their head would think you’re a little obsessed with me.” For some reason, there were a few gold coated pens sitting on the table, possibly but also probably for the keno games that Bull liked to scatter around the joint. Picking one up—Jake clicked the top before placing it in his top pocket absentmindedly. You could never have enough pens. Everytime he needed one he never had one. Everytime he had one he never needed it. 

“Why don’t you roll the Dice and find out?” Jake grinned ear to ear, watching as you raised a brow in response. “Tell me a little about yourself? Perhaps I'll walk away all the more obsessed than I supposedly already am.” 

“Okay–” You simply sighed, dropping your chin as you frowned. Pulling your elbows off the table as you sat back into a slight slump. “This has been fun, really, this whole act–” it was Jake's turn to frown as he listened, noticing how you wore an expression he didn't like one bit. Something laced with self-doubt. “But you can cut it out now.” 

“What are you on about?” Jake asked as he handed you a menu. 

“The whole, you wanna be more than friends shtick you’re really playing up.” Yep, Jake really made you say it out loud. “I'm not the type of girl whos gonna fall in love with you Seresin, I'm not here for that shit, im here–” 

“Because your daddy is Ron Slider Kerner and he's chummy with Admiral Agony?” Jake didn't mean to say it like that's what he believed, he meant to say it in a way that he thought that's what you were going to say. Maybe the look he’d seen plastered across your face before wasn't self loathing after all, because when you straighten your shoulders and let out a scoff. Jake knew he fucked it. “I didn't mean it to sound like that, I just thought that's what you were going to say.” 

“Sure, because you and everyone else here surely don't think I'm the class Nepotism baby.” 

“That's Bradshaws title, get your own Dice.'' Jake was quick on the draw, it forced a laugh to bubble up from deep inside you as you took in the sight of his smile. So bright and all consuming. 

“No Bradleys the gold star kid, but don't tell him I said that!” You sat up a little straighter, knocking your knuckle against the top of the table. “He’s practically family, which means he’ll plant me in the ground if he ever heard me say that.” 

“Well, for the record, I don't think you’re a nepo baby.” Jake cooed, smirking wildly at you from across the table. The Hard Deck had started to get busier around you as you sat with the sandy blonde. The pair of you didn't seem to notice as you got lost in the conversation you were having. Something about Jake just drew you into him, you couldn't figure out what exactly it was that had your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his laugh or the glint in his eye. But there was something there. “I do think you’re gonna have a hard time following me, but I'll do my best to lead us to the top of that ladder, Dice Dixon.” 

You couldn't let Jake get away with thinking he was better than you, if you were going to be the best dynamic duo Mirimar had ever seen you needed it known who was the brains of this operation. And who exactly is what that was going to led you to the top of that leaderboard, to the top of the class and beyond. 

“Seresin, I have known you for the better half of one entire afternoon and I already know the most important thing about you.” You let your back rest against the plush back of the booth chair. Eyeing off the handsome aviator before you, Jake fucking Seresin was about to be the death of you and you knew it. 

“Pray do tell—“ Jake replied as he mimicked your actions. Letting his back rest and the plush of the booth, waiting for you to say something witty. Something he knew he’d never forget. 

“That the only place you’ll lead anymore is an early grave.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @potato-girl99981 @averyhotchner @dempy @abaker74 @a-serene-place-to-be @starkleila @some-lovely-day @phoenix1388 @auroraboreallisfine @avaleineandafryingpan @kikaninchen-2 @xoxabs88xox

#roll of the dice // jake seresin #jake hangman x y/n #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin #jake seresin x f!reader #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin

[awellreadmannequin]

On narrative, Romance, and The Witch from Mercury

I’ve seen a bunch of posts bemoaning people who don’t seem to feel that the relationship between Suletta and Miorine is either explicitly romantic or that it’s final, married state makes sense given the events of the narrative. I find it absolutely fascinating that anyone can watch that show and not see how their relationship blooms into something very obviously romantic. Like, from the narrative itself, to the way it is structured, to its themes, one of the show’s main preoccupations is Miorine and Suletta’s romantic feelings towards one another (another is Suletta’s mommy issues, a thing lesbians are famously immune to). So in order to rectify what appears to be a major crisis of media illiteracy, let’s talk about narrative, romance, and The Witch from Mercury.

Let’s start with narrative.

In studying literature at the high school level, students in the Anglo-sphere world are often shown some variation of this diagram:

(Graham, 2014)

This diagram can be roughly broken into three sections: beginning (exposition, inciting incident), middle (rising action, climax), and end (falling action, denouement). Those who haven’t seen this particular diagram are likely familiar with the beginning-middle-end narrative structure, perhaps having even been told that this is the structure of all narratives (it isn’t, but that’s not really relevant here). The origin of this way of thinking about narrative in the western tradition is Aristotle’s Poetics, a treatise on aesthetics and tragedy. However, when we learn about this narrative structure in school, there is often an important aspect of Aristotle’s argument that gets left out. What he’s actually describing is not a narrative but rather an action. Actions, he argues, have a beginning, a middle, and an end and good narratives are ones that imitate one complete action. This process of imitation is known as mimesis (Ricoeur 1984, 33-34).

Reframing our beginning-middle-end structure with this context leaves us with two important takeaways. The first takeaway is that this structure views a narrative as a singular action which can be analyzed as having a beginning-middle-end structure. The second takeaway is that this structure is critical. This means that it has a valence of aesthetic judgement such that we can judge the aesthetic value of a narrative by its coherence with the structure. Now, this is not the only critical lens through which to view narratives, nor am I suggesting it should be. Rather, it is a relatively easy to understand structure that provides a useful frame of reference for interpreting the particular narrative we’re interested. Further, a narrative can itself be broken up into actions which can in turn be analyzed using this structure. Thus, with a work as complex as a television show, you have actions within actions all of which can be broken up into the beginning-middle-end structure. To expand on this account Aristotle (and Ricoeur, whose exegesis and analysis of Aristotle I’ve cited) provides, we have to next ask what ‘action’ actually means in this context.

To answer that question, I want to turn another philosopher, Hannah Arendt. In her excellent book The Human Condition she describes three kinds of things that humans do which define the human condition. The first is labour, which she defines as those things which must be done continually because they have no real end. Eating, drinking, and sleeping can all be thought of as kinds of labour on this view because no matter how many times we do them, we will still need to do them again. Labour alone cannot define the human condition because all living things also preform repetitive tasks to survive. The second thing humans do is work. Unlike labour, work has a definite beginning and end. However, what distinguishes it from the last category of human thing is that the end of work is always known before hand. Making a table is work because you start off without table, you finish with a table, and all along you know that you will ultimately have a table when you’re finished. The third and final thing is the one that Arendt believes most defines the human condition: action. Action has a beginning - a point at which the action is set in motion - but its end is undefined. Taking an action is thus a sort of risk. It demands we set out to do something without any certainty about the outcome and that we do so precisely because we are not certain as to the outcome. Without getting too far into the weeds, Arendt maintains that action can only exist within contexts structured by social relationships. Basically, taking action requires the involvement to some degree of other people. Actions also live beyond us. Their relational existence means that they have a ripple effect upon those who exist in relation to the actor. One action will inevitably beget further actions in response (Arendt 1998).

For our purposes, we need to understand how work, action, and art intersect. Art is a product of action but is itself a sort of work. The artist sets out to make an artwork with an idea of what it will be like, but often finds that it changes along the way. Further, the artwork lives beyond the artist, inspiring actions on the part of audiences and critics. However, the work of art itself has both a definite beginning and a definite end. Paintings have canvas edges, films end, and you eventually leave a building. So while being the product of action art can only ever imitate it. Thus, we find ourselves right back at Aristotle and the beginning-middle-end structure. Would it shock you to learn that Arendt was an Aristotelian? No? Good.

Okay, bluh, now you’ve read through a bunch of aesthetic and social philosophy as well as literary theory. As a reward, let’s apply the structure to GWitch.

Now, let’s start by asking ourselves what the overarching action the narrative of the Witch from Mercury is emplotting? I would argue it is Elnora’s attempt to create a new world for Ericht. Why? Well, the prologue sets up Elnora’s motivations, which are revealed as the tension ratchets up, and then narrative concludes when she fails. We know this is an action (thus worth narrativizing) because Elnora sets it in motion with a desired end in mind but no certainty that she will achieve it. She is taking a risk. For anyone wondering, this is one reason why Suletta and Miorine don’t get dramatic confessions or a marriage scene. The show is, ultimately, not actually about their actions, it’s about Elnora’s. However, the show seems to focus on Suletta, Miorine, et al because the overarching action cannot move through its beginning-middle-end structure without conflict, which the students provide. Thus, it structures the show by providing a ground out of which the rest of the characters actions can grow. These actions too can be understood through the beginning-middle-end framework and are worth examining as well.

The one we’re obviously most concerned with is the relationship between Suletta and Miorine. Wait. Is a relationship an action, in the relevant sense?

Yes.

Relationships require other people, so check. They involve both risk and uncertainty, so check. And they have no definite end, so make that three checks. In colloquial language, it might seem strange to call something as complex as a relationship an action, but in the technical sense we’re concerned with, it is. Isn’t philosophy fun?

Here, it’s worth remembering that while artworks imitate action, they are nonetheless still works. From Suletta and Miorine’s perspectives (as well as Elnora’s in her case), they are taking actions because they have no way of knowing the outcome of the social risks they’re taking. However, from our context as the audience, these actions exist within the context of work so we know that they will have a definite end. And after finishing the narrative, we also know what that end is. This means that while in real life, actions do not have foreshadowing to tell us how they will end (they exist in the context of genuine uncertainty), in art they do. In fact, actions in art only have one possible end, the one that the artist already created. Nothing that happens in art cannot be accounted for beforehand by the action of the artist. This means that the action of Suletta and Miorine’s relationship is diagetically defined by the necessary risk for action while at the same time already always having a definite and knowable resolution from an outside perspective.

Bluh, I am so sorry if this is getting difficult to follow.

The important point I’m trying to make is that since we know how Suletta and Miorine’s relationship will go or at least that it is going to go somewhere, we can therefore analyze it through the beginning-middle-end structure (because narrative imitates action) in order to… well… analyze it.

So what does this structure reveal to us? Let’s start with the beginning. The first defining moment of Suletta and Miorine’s relationship is when Suletta becomes the holder. This is the point at which they become entwined by the plot. Hence forth, they will exist within the rest of the narrative in relation to one another such that their actions going forward are all influenced by the relationship that here begins. By this I mean that their actions are always explicitly or implicitly framed relative to how they feel about one another. In turn, their actions have consequences which more often then not leave them thinking about one another. Time and again, they choose to return to the other’s side because they find it painful not to. This is borne out symbolically as well as literally, most notably when Miorine asks her father to fund the company and later when Suletta fences with Guel for the position of holder well after that position has become functionally obsolete. In both cases, each character makes a symbolic gesture that indicates their commitment to one another. In the latter case, this gesture has a pretty explicitly romantic overtone as Suletta implicitly indicates that she still wishes to marry Miorine even after she is no longer obligated to do so.

The mid point of the narrative both literally and structurally occurs when Suletta kills a person in the plant in order to save Miorine.

As an aside, this scene is just sublime. Excellent writing, excellent visuals, just some of the best goddamn story telling I’ve ever seen.

Narratively, this scene forces Miorine to confront Suletta’s biggest character flaws. It is clear from her body language and the way she initially distances herself from Suletta in the first part of the latter half of the narrative that Miorine is deeply uncomfortable with what happened. This leads her to make the first of two choices that help drive the second half of the narrative forward. The first is to make Guel the holder and thereby put a firm distance between her and Suletta. The second is to embrace Suletta in the wake of the traumatic events that occurred on Earth. What stood out most to me about her stated reasoning about the first choice was that it betrays the results of how she processed the events at the plant. Specifically, she frames what she’s doing as being for Suletta’s own good. Implicit in the reasoning she gives is the idea that she feels Suletta’s poor decision making skills vis a vis taking the life of another are in part the result of her self-destructive drive to do things for others. By trying to separate herself from Suletta, she is also trying to separate Suletta from the overarching action of the plot by ensuring she will not be put in positions where she’s forced to act relative to consequences of that plot. This of course fails because narrative very quickly comes crashing back into Suletta’s life as things begin to go very sideways at the school (again, I want to stress that Elnora’s action, the plot of the show, structures all of the other narrative threads, allowing them to intersect with SulaMio in ways that move the plot forward). Here, Miorine is acting. Uncertain of the best way forward, she choose a course of action that aims to separate herself from Suletta and Suletta from the narrative.

The direct result of this action sees her and Guel to Earth, where the overarching action of the plot (remember, Elnora’s plan) collides with her and with Suletta. This time, Suletta has an opportunity to act, to take a risk and to charge into the uncertain future. After seemingly being rejected by Miorine, she nonetheless decides to return to her side, going out of her way to reclaim the right to call her self the groom in the process. At this point, the ball is in Miorine’s court and it is her turn to act. And in the end, she chooses Suletta. Again and again. Over and over, Miorine returns to Suletta’s side. As they both grow and change - for better and worse - they find themselves choosing to seek each other out.

We don’t even need to cover the end, not really. The action of their relationship resolves with Miorine holding Suletta’s space suit after the Gundam has dissolved. She begs for Suletta to be returned to her and, after a beat, she is. In that moment, they once again choose each other. The epilogue just expands on what we already know: Miorine and Suletta are forever intertwined, the weight of their love forever moving each to towards the other. Three years on, they’ve grown and changed and healed and there they still are, choosing each other.

In case it isn’t obvious enough yet, this narrative - the action being imitated by the depiction of their relationship - is structurally a romantic one. Beat for beat, it follows the same structure as explicitly romantic narratives.

Not convinced? Let’s examine one.

In Akashi’s excellent yuri manga Still Sick, Office Lady Shimizu Makoto is a single, amateur yuri doujinshi creator whose hobby is discovered by a junior colleague named Maekawa Akane. (Spoilers for the plot ahead) Despite Akane’s hot and cold personality (which verges on possibly being a serious mental health issue), the pair grow close. After that inciting incident in which Akane discover’s that Makoto is a yuri otaku, the pair are faced by moments of conflict in which the choice to separate is ultimately undone by a desire to be together. Akane’s personality, um, flaws lead her to continually push Makoto away despite an intense desire to be with her. As the stresses of life mount, Makoto continually chooses to go back to Akane and Akane continually chooses to ultimately take her in (Akashi 2019-2020). Because, and say it with me, they’re in love!

Now, before you get all twisted in knots about how friendship narratives can be structurally similar, I will simply point you in the direction of this post I made about yuri in the context of Genshin Impact as well as the paper by Michiko Suzuki I cite in it. I have also co-authored an actual (potentially) forthcoming academic paper in which I discuss what yuri as a genre entails, so trust me on this one. Within the context of Japanese media depictions of young women, the line between friendship and romance has historically been and still remains an incredibly vague one. As the Suzuki paper discusses, this has intentionally been exploited by writers trying to tell stories about sapphic relationships without upsetting moral authorities for more than a hundred years.

So what is our ultimate conclusion? Well, it’s that The Witch from Mercury contains within it a narrative about a relationship between two young women that is structured like other, explicitly homoromantic narratives about the same and was created within a culture context in which certain audiences are primed to understand narratives about intense romance adjacent friendships between young women as actually being veiled stories about homoromantic relationships. If it quacks like a duck, waddles like a duck, and somehow avoids being immolated by pseudo-dragon fire like a duck, IT’S PROBABLY A DUCK, NO?

Don’t worry about that dragon fire thing, only real yuri heads will get that one.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Bibliography:

Akashi. Still Sick. Translated by Katie Kimura, vol. 1-3, Los Angeles: TOKYOPOP, 2019-2020

Arendt, Hannah. The Human Condition. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1998.

Mrs. Graham. “Plot Structure,” on myriversideSD43.ca. Accessed July 16, 2023. Found here. Authors note: This diagram was made for a grade eight class in a school district about two hours from where I grew up in the year that I was in grade nine, which is both a bizarre coincidence and a nostalgic reminder of how simple I used to think literature was.

Ricoeur, Paul. Time and Narrative. Volume I, translated by Kathleen Blamey and David Pellauer. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984.

#gundam #g witch #the witch from mercury #suletta mercury #suletta x miorine #miorine rembran #g witch analysis #claire writes about yuri

[vukovich]

ginger chew candy

voyeurism

go.

thx thx thx

You spelled "Draco Malfoy's Bad at Slang" wrong. It's okay. We all struggle. **GBK** (GirlBoss Kisses)

-- Trist a Phwaze

The muffled sounds of Harry and Malfoy shouting at each other only brought a tired sigh from Ron.

The shoulder of his Auror robes clung to the brick wall like weak Velcro. He watched the red wool fibres release the masonry.

This was the third time in as many months that Harry had insisted on changing their foot patrol route to include passing by Malfoy's new apothecary. 'New' to Malfoy. The building was one solid sneeze from collapsing out onto Horizont.

Ron sighed and stepped into the shop. The whole place was inside out and upside down. Boxes were stuck to the ceiling with magic that stretched like old glue.

"You know what, Potter?!" Draco was screaming, leaning over the wooden counter. "Let's have it out when you're off duty!"

Harry went on tiptoe, hips against the counter. "You know what?!" he shouted, jabbing a finger against Malfoy's chest. "I'd fuckin' love to!"

"Yeah?" Draco tugged on his tie knot. "Let's fight, then, Potter. Mano a mano."

"Why wait 'til I clock out?"

"Sure!" Draco snapped. "You want it to go, Potter?"

Ron snorted under his breath as he leaned in the doorway.

"What?" Harry said.

Draco had a death grip on the counter edge. "I said, do... you... want.. it... to..." he shoved Harry's finger away, "go?"

"Do I want it to go? Am I ordering takeaway?"

Ron hid another snort in his robe collar and pretended to inspect a wall of tinctures.

"Yeah," Draco snarled, puffing up his chest. "I'll fucking take you away."

Harry snorted this time and whispered over his shoulder to Ron, "Calgon, take me away."

Ron winked and said, "Think he'd rather take you out, to be honest."

Draco huffed like an annoyed horse. "I'm going to take you out!"

Harry cocked his head. "Is that so? Take me out? Really, Malfoy? Is that what you meant to say?"

"Yes! I am."

Ron checked the price on a teething ring and put it back. "Better do it proper, Malfoy. Flowers and all. You'll have me to deal with if you don't."

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron.

"Yeah!" Draco shouted. "I'm going to take you out, Potter. Flowers for your grave and everything," he sneered. "What kind of flowers do you like, Potter?"

"Uh... Roses?" Harry turned at the waist and flipped Ron off.

"Good! Because you are getting... You are getting... Ohhhh," he said wagging a finger. "You are going to get it."

"You give it to him, Malfoy!"

"Oh, I will! Rest assured!"

Harry hid his face in his hands.

Ron sniffed a satchel that reeked of pot, then slipped it in his pocket. "You go and fuck him up, Malfoy."

"Oh, I will! I will fuck him all up and down."

Ron took a second satchel as a future peace offering.

Harry bounced the toe of his shoe against the counter. "Malfoy? Uhm. Do you want to take me out on a date?"

"Oh. I suppose we could schedule it for a later date. You really should be off-duty for it. How is Friday? The 16th?"

"Uhm..." Harry said suspiciously. "Just to clarify, you want to take me out? On a date?"

"Yes. Be here on Friday at say, 5 PM?"

Harry nodded vacantly. "I..."

"And I am bringing roses," Draco said, as if roses were nuclear bombs. "For you."

"Uhm," Harry said, shaking his head, "what should I wear? A suit, or...? What?"

Draco chortled like an 8-bit level boss. "Ho ho, yes, you should wear a suit fit to be buried in, Potter, because," he stabbed Harry in the chest with a knobby finger, "I am going to lay... you... down."

Harry hid his face in his hands again. He turned to peek at Ron, shielding his face from Draco. He shook his head in a silent plea for help.

"Out?" Ron mouthed. "Lay you out?"

Harry gave him a helpless shrug.

Ron jerked his head at Draco to get his attention. "I'll bet you lay 'em real good, Malfoy."

"Yeah!" Draco barked.

Harry stomped a heel and turned to glare over his shoulder at Ron. "Stop."

Draco crossed his arms. "I do lay them, Weasley! The last man I laid had to call off work in the morning!"

Ron nodded sagely. "Hardcore."

Draco preened. "Hardest core you've ever seen. And Potter's gonna see it alllllll." He huffed at Harry.

In that moment something in Harry broke. Ron couldn't have said exactly what it was. Maybe his pride, or his dignity, or something like that.

He turned and whispered to Ron, "Can I borrow a pair of dress socks? I guess?"

Ron popped a candy from a bowl in his mouth. "Nope." Peppermint. "Buy your own damn socks. Besides, I think the Malfoy Menace here is gonna knock those socks right off you. Aren't you, Champ?"

Draco nodded sharply and stared daggers at Harry. "Damn straight."

"Least straight conversation I've ever heard," Ron muttered around the peppermint.

The bell above the door jingled, and Hermione walked in with a cranky Hugo on her hip. She stopped just inside the doorway and looked back and forth between the three men.

Draco yelled first. "We are going at it, Granger! This is not a sight for women and children!"

Baffled, she looked to Harry, but all he did was cringe. "Ron?" she asked.

Ron cleared his throat and said, "Harry and Malfoy are finally gonna fuck."

Draco squawked, "WHAT?!" like an irate goose.

Harry's blush looked febrile in nature.

Hermione snorted so hard, Ron briefly worried she'd dislodged a tonsil. She hid behind a display of teething biscuits to recover her composure. The boxes wobbled when she laughed.

Draco smoothed his palms down his shirtfront and visibly tried to slow his breathing.

"Well," he finally said. "Potter."

Harry squeaked.

"I hope," Draco said with fragile calm, "that you own a decent suit."

Even the backs of Harry's ears were scarlet. "I... Uh... I do."

"Good!" Draco said curtly. He took a shuddery inhale and eyed the doorway behind the counter. "I have to..." He gulped and took a long stride toward the door. "Stockroom!"

--

#drarry #write the bad jokes you want to see in the world #peculiar prompts #peculiar prompt