#I’d like to understand the nuances of your life

[the-decapod]

I want to actively comprehend you.

[desos-records]

The part I appreciate the most in the Lockwood and Co show is how it handles depression and suicidal thoughts in teenagers. As a theme, it’s not often (ever) done well. Lockwood and Co is the only story I can think of that depicts it in a nuanced, realistic, non-romanticized way

but first, before I get into it: [if you’re in crisis or need someone to talk to and don’t want to/can’t use your national hotline, highly recommend Samaritans, genuinely saved my life] okay, let’s go

Lockwood is the most obvious, with his general disregard for his own life and admitted suicidal ideation. Lucy struggles with her self-worth and the intensity of the emotions she’s subjected to. George worries that he doesn’t belong, that there’s something useless or wrong about him. The show depicts these thoughts and feelings in a way that isn’t overblown or dramatized, it’s all but casual. Which is how it happens. Depression or suicidal thoughts don’t crash into you all at once, they creep into your life without you noticing

But more importantly (and again, something I’ve never seen anywhere else), the show also offers counterpoints to those thoughts and feelings. It shows that there is a way out, even though you may feel trapped and hopeless. This is crucial for the show’s target demographic. Bad media depictions of depression or suicide get internalized, contribute to the stigma, and make it harder for people to ask for help. This show doesn’t do that. This show tells its audience that, yes, things are scary and painful and it fucking sucks, but it’s not hopeless. And it says it so well

In the second episode, when Lucy wants to quit, she admits something that I’m almost certain she’s never told anyone

“sometimes I just think I’d be better off dead”

And when I watched this the first time, I expected Lockwood to react the way I’ve seen people react in my own life; with silence or panic or downright dismissal. But he didn’t. He stays calm and he says something that is so so important to hear when you’re struggling under the weight of feelings like this

“I understand that”

Saying this tells someone several things: that you’re on their side, they aren’t strange or monstrous for feeling like this, and that you’re not going to attack or abandon them because of it. And you can see the impact it has on Lucy, the way her face clears. She went from struggling to breathe and near tears to calm and steady. It’s no mistake that in this moment we hear his and Lucy’s theme for the first time (those simple, beautiful guitar strings)

The next thing he says is also important

“and it’s not true”

Simple, to the point, directly addressing her feelings, and (the most common mistake) doesn’t make it about him. Telling someone that you love them or that they’d be upset to lose you might sound nice, and it can be later on in the conversation, but in a moment like this, it’s infinitely more helpful to confront the thought itself

A similar moment in the first book stuck with me too, when they’re underneath Combe Carey Hall and Lucy almost steps into the well. What she’s hearing in her head (and the general phenomenon of malaise that ghosts produce) is very similar to depressive or suicidal thoughts. Before she can fall, Lockwood pulls her back

“no, Lucy, that’s not the way it’s going to be”

Depressive and suicidal thoughts deal in absolutes, so sometimes it takes an absolute to counter it

In the last episode, George has that heart-breaking moment where he says all the awful things he thinks about himself, partly because of the influence of the boneglass and Bickerstaff, but it’s also been building up, there in the background. Increasingly, it’s Lockwood and Lucy working together and George working on his own, which picks at old wounds (engineer, engineer, engineer, weirdo). He bonds with Joplin because he feels like she understands him in a way the others don’t

“it’s nice to have someone to show off to”

But Lucy pushes back against all that because she sees herself in all the ugly things George is saying, because she’s felt that way too. She understands that. She’s so surprised and horrified to hear him saying those things, resigning himself to dying down there, she’s not going to let him go on believing them

“you’re not a third wheel or an oddball or whatever it is that you think you are”

“you’re the best of us”

“we are not losing you, Georgie”

Flo called him that earlier too, but Lucy wasn’t there for that and coming unprompted from her it sounds so much like something you might call your slightly annoying younger brother. She’s so absolute about it all, with no opening for doubt, and you can see something like surprise on George’s face (but also pain because now Lucy’s in danger too)

For all Lucy knows, the boneglass will kill her. I don’t think for a second she genuinely believes her talent will protect her; she told Joplin that to protect George. It’s unclear when exactly she came up with the plan to use the skull, but she was willing to risk it anyway. And she knows, she knows, George will blame himself for this (because she would too, if it were the other way around), but even then, she’s very clear

“this isn’t your fault”

Their whole scene down in the catacombs is two kids trying to keep each other alive, physically obviously, but on the inside as well. And, oh god, George almost crashing down next to Lucy after he’s knocked over the boneglass, trying to wake her up. His voice

“Lucy, Lucy, it’s me, it’s me, say something, speak to me”

I think it’s down in those catacombs that George and Lucy really understand each other for the first time. In their own ways, they’re both curious and suspicious about the Problem and what causes it, trying to learn more about it (and stressing Lockwood out in the process). They both left their families; they both struggle with feeling strange and different than everyone around them. That connection pulls them both back from the edge

Lockwood, for all his confidence, is practically in crisis or was fairly recently (I suspect living with George helped). It’s fairly common, actually, for someone suicidal to overcompensate with an exterior shell to hide it, which can manifest in different ways depending on the person (they may not even realize they’re doing it, I didn’t)

And I love how the show handles it. He’s not made into this dark, tragic figure. He’s so full of life it hurts. He jokes around with George and Flo, fights with Kipps, admires Fairfax. He has dreams (plans) for the future. He’s struggling with trauma, they all are, but he’s not Broken™ in the way similar leading characters are often made out to be, in the way we often fear we are

And, of course, there’s Lucy, a wreaking ball through the precarious balance of Lockwood’s life. It’s not so much that she gives him a reason to live (although she definitely helps), but she holds him accountable in a way no one else does. This is the difficult part of recovery that no one talks about. Having people care for you (George) and sympathize with you (Flo) is great and necessary, especially early on. But at some point, you have to take responsibility for yourself and the noise in your head (you have to open your door on the landing)

What that looks like is complicated and messy and different for every person, but seeing it played out in a story is remarkable. I’ve never seen anything like it. This is a difficult thing for anyone to learn (many adults never even try)

That shot of George, Lucy, Lockwood (and Kipps) rising up on the catafalque sums it all up for me. Each of them fell into darkness alone and rose out of it together. They inspired each other to fight and win their individual battles, even when they couldn’t be there to help

[what-even-is-thiss]

In English, North America and South America are two different continents but in Spanish they’re just one continent and continents are a made up concept and what constitutes as a continent has no useful definition that fits all of our regular lists of continents and why are Europe and Asia and Africa three different continents in the first place and is Australia actually just a very big island?

Anyways that’s why I don’t type things like USAmerican because in English they’re just Americans but I understand why some people do get annoyed with that but at the same time I’ve seen zero Spanish speakers in my personal life argue for speaking that way in English and I guess my point is that we should probably be more aware of how certain people see themselves and be respectful of that but also at the same time I’m an English speaking person in an English speaking country and if I use America to refer to what we call The Americas in my everyday life people will assume I’ve made a mental typo or that I’m being contrarian and if I tried to make that a thing in my everyday speech patterns I’d come off as a pretentious idiot. If I’m speaking Spanish that’s a different story. Then yeah there’s other words for US Americans like estadounidense. Or famously gringo, more colloquially.

I’m not looking to start arguments here. Like I said I totally get why people make that distinction. But there’s also like the nuances of the lived reality of living in certain cultural contexts that I think people forget about.

I’m not here to tell you to not make that distinction in your speech. I’m not even here to tell you that you’re not allowed to be frustrated about it. I’m just here to explain why I don’t do that and why most English speaking people don’t and why it’s not inherently malicious when people do. Like if someone fully dismisses your perspective on the issue and how you view your own identity yes they’re the asshole. But also generally in English it’s The Americas or North, Central, and South America. And yes maybe that’s stupid but so is the existence of Europe as a concept and we all seem to believe that Europeans are a real thing.

And to reiterate. I’m not trying to tell anybody how to speak or how to feel here. Just trying to insert some nuance into this conversation. Because people I call Americans and you might call USAmericans are only gonna call ourselves Americans. That’s just how we view ourselves, how we understand our own identity as a nation. And some people will be jerks about it. But many of us are also just living in the world we live in, referring to ourselves in the way we always have, not aiming to tell anyone else how they ought to view themselves.

I’m American. Soy estadounidense. Some stuff unfortunately gets lost in translation.

Also continents don’t exist. If we try to get rid of the concept of continents we’d all be too confused at all times to have these disagreements. Confusion superiority. We go by tectonic plates. California is on the same continent as Japan now.

[wholoveseggs]

I also have another one!! I’d love to see like Rebekahs friend(the reader) and Elijah’s love story. Like how they met(maybe in the Victorian age or Viking) and just them through the eras! If that is something you would be interested in doing! Like no problems just a cute little thing about their story through the time 💕💕 as always no pressure 💕

Worth the wait

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You and Elijah are childhood friends, dipping in and out of each others lives for the past one thousand years. You hope that one day you will have a chance to be together and find the love you've always longed for.

♡♡ Thanks for the requests @ashloring & @loving-and-dreaming I got these requests back to back and I thought they were perfect combined together. Sorry it took so long, I really wanted to do this story justice... hopefully it is... ♡♡

7.1k words - Warnings: smut, angst, reminiscing, playful sex, Elijah being very silly and sappy.

You were always fated to love him from afar. From the first moment you ever laid eyes on Elijah — you knew deep down that you would love him as long as you lived. What you didn't know was how long that would be.

You grew up together in a quaint viking village, learning to hunt and forage. He pushed you around, pulled your braids and teased you. You gave back as much as you got, biting and scratching until you were both on the ground tousling around in a full blown battle to prove who was the winner.

The nature of your play fighting changed when you became teenagers, arms still grabbing, but now holding a little bit longer, hands lingering, brushing one anothers faces. Eyes meeting, always with a blush and hasty awkward parting.

When his mother caught you laying on his bed together, fully clothed with a few shy pecks here and there, she sent you away. From that point on, you barely spoke, too embarrassed and flustered to communicate.

You grew up and grew apart, watching him and his family from afar. There was always a darkness over the Mikaelson household, a lingering sense of unease that kept everyone in the village back.

Still the sight of him was enough to brighten your day. Even though you stayed far away from him and his family, Elijah often found you sitting near him, the two of you were simply drawn to each other.

Life was perfect and peaceful until one night, screams echoed in the darkness, sending you from the safety of your bed. It was coming from his home, so you quickly grabbed the only weapon you could find and ran towards the sound.

What you found was beyond anything you could imagine, death and magic combined as the family mutated into a monster to rival the ones of mythological tales.

Esther spotted you and forced you to your knees, laying beside Elijah's body as she began her spell. Once you were tied by mystical cords you didn't understand, she muttered the same incantations she had spoken over each of her children.

That was your last night as a human, the last night you were alive.

Life as an original vampire was unexpected, it came with anger, lust, bloodlust, and unmatched supernatural strength that took adjusting.

Luckily you weren't entirely alone, you had the Mikaelson siblings, teaching each other, being patient, especially Elijah. Together you mastered every nuance in becoming the strongest predator there was.

While you may have been turned against your will, you quickly accepted this new existence. The freedom that came with an endless future proved rewarding with each sunrise.

But soon the prospect of an endless future turned into a curse and you learned the only true enemy of an original was time itself.

Eternity felt hollow as you watched every friend you made grow old and die while you were forced to continue on. Leaving you, haunted and depressed with no escape in sight.

And the only group of people who understood your plight suffered from their own problems. You spent your first five hundred years with them, moving around from country to country before you needed to take a long break from them.

You hoped that Elijah would always keep his heart, stay gentle and kind, but that was impossible. He matured into someone cunning and ruthless, his humanity slowly slipping away, tainted by the brutalities of this life.

The constant bickering, hateful arguments and petty jealousy between them drove you away. After those years you decided to live independently, only visiting the Mikaelson's every couple centuries, trying your best to keep hold of your humanity, while feeling lost in the ever flowing sea of time.

You sat out front a quiet little cafe, sipping on a espresso and browsing your phone. Modern technology was still such a trip to you, just one change after another in an impossible to keep up with world. Everyday some new gadget popped up.

You remembered a time when it took weeks to travel from one place to another. For a letter to make its way took months. And now you could press a button on the piece of glass in your hand and have a face to face conversation with someone on the other side of the world.

It was fascinating, these human inventions that filled their mundane lives. You envied how enraptured they were in their invented distractions. Not everything changed, humans were still so desperate for a simple illusion to fill the boredom of the days drudgery.

But today wasn't an ordinary day for you, today you had a date. Or at least, you wanted it to be a date, Elijah probably saw it as just meeting up with an old friend.

He sat down across from you, handsome as ever, elegant and charming, just as you remembered. Dressed in a black suit, the perfect mix of old fashioned and contemporary.

But when he smiled at you, all your trepidation melted away. It was the same familiar smile you fell in love with, holding that bright twinkle in his eyes and showing off those dimples.

"It's been a while," he said with a faint smile.

"Just a little," you smirked playfully.

He always had the same mannerisms, crossing his legs and holding his body with poise. However in the centuries you spent around him, you learned all his tells. The way he always touched his face when uncomfortable, his tendency to play with his hands.

"How have you been?" he asked, leaning back in his seat as he ordered a cup of coffee.

He politely thanked the waitress that delivered it, before taking a sip, his dark eyes set intensely on yours.

"Me, oh I've been..." you let your voice trail off for a moment, swallowing the memories that threatened to steal your poise.

But Elijah knew what you were thinking, not having seen one another for so long, the memories of the last time you saw eachother tried to force their way back to the front of your mind.

It was the 1950s, and you ran into him in New York of all places. It was the first time you thought you actually had a real chance with him, but he was plagued by his missing siblings, his rage at his brother turned him into a man you barely recognized.

Watching him torture people for information, murdering innocent bystanders didn't seem out of the ordinary anymore, this new Elijah was beyond ruthless. He was a man devoted only to killing his enemies.

Today he seemed far different, poised and kind. The Elijah you fell in love with as a girl had somehow resurfaced and seemed quite eager to make your acquaintance. Or perhaps you just wanted to see him as the man you have always loved, a possibility of a future with him you always dreamed of.

"I guess we haven't really kept in touch," you murmured softly. "I've been off doing my thing and I've missed you more than words could say. Though... you obviously haven't missed me, being so busy playing king of the vampires," you teased him.

"Well someone has to keep the order," he said with a smirk.

"And you think you're the best man for the job?" you raised your brows.

His gaze met yours, he couldn't help the nostalgia that built up in him. Seeing you staring at him, reminded of the times when he first fell in love with you. He had both just turned thirteen and it was like he was seeing you for the first time, dancing around the fire with ribbons in your hair. All the times he would look at you, getting flustered, only to see you looking back at him with the same unspoken feeling between you.

"Well it's either me or Niklaus," Elijah answered as he took a drink.

"Fair enough," you laughed softly and sighed.

Elijah loved that laugh, the way it made your eyes light up. His heart melted, seeing you looking so beautiful. He never stood a chance, you could have your pick of any man, ones who would worship the ground you walked on, ones that could give you a happy life.

"I trust the family is doing well?" you asked with an even gaze.

He nodded. "I have a niece now, Hope. She's brought light back into my family," he smiled slightly.

You loved seeing him this way, happy and hopeful, exactly the way it should be.

"I can't believe it, Niklaus a father. Angels weep," you jested with a laugh.

"Well sometimes you have to set aside your misgivings and make room for surprises," he smirked.

"Spoken like a true mediator," you replied, toasting him with your mug.

You talked for what seemed like forever, catching up on lost time, simply taking in one another's presence. His gaze lingered on you, admiring your confidence. You've always had that glow, drawing everyone in with your easy nature.

"Now tell me, how was your time in Paris?" Elijah asked curiously.

"Has Elijah Mikaelson been keeping tabs on me?" You teased him and laughed.

"I've managed to keep track of a few things," he smirked.

"Nothing you didn't already know, I've spent the past few decades indulging in one thing or another," you answered honestly. "Wine, art, food, sex…”

"How do I fall into those categories?" he chuckled, cocking his head to the side.

"Hmmm, I want to say art but I don't want to feed your ego, so wine it is," you grinned.

"Not sex?" he questioned with a grin.

You shrugged and sipped on your drink, trying to conceal the hot blush spreading over your skin.

"I wouldn't know, now, would I?" you teased him.

It was meant to be a question, that's what you intended, however it came out as an admission and you winced slightly, embarrassed that your nerves were starting to take over.

Elijah loved flirting with you, it felt different than with anyone else, there was something about it, like he was doing it for the first time, all nerves and awkwardness. He saw the flush and pink in your cheeks, the same sweet little blush from a thousand years ago, he knew you felt the same way.

"Would you like to?" he asks curiously.

"Please, Elijah..." you laughed off his question.

You shuffled in your seat nervously. Not believing that Elijah had actually seen the potential for romance. He was just teasing, friendly banter between old friends.

"How's your dating life?" You asked, steering the conversation away from the uncomfortableness you were feeling.

"You're asking me out?" he smirked.

"Fuck off," you chuckled playfully. "I was only going to ask if you are still pinning after Katherine," you teased.

"Now who's keeping tabs?" He countered with a smile.

"Do you blame me? C'mon, give me all the delicious gossip."

"Well.. I finally found her. We had lots of sex, then I dumped her," he quipped.

"Oh my, Elijah, a heartbreaker," you smirked.

"Yes, that's me. Now you, I've always wondered who you were with?" Elijah brought the attention back to you, waiting for an explanation.

You rolled your eyes and relaxed into the chair. "Men, women, witches, werewolves…” you joked.

"Not sex, I meant love. Did you meet anyone that holds your heart?" He clarified, fiddling with his hands under the table, both excited and nervous to hear what you had to say.

You got a little flustered and swallowed, shrugging it off as nothing. There was no one. You certainly met some contenders over the years, but no one came close to the man that sat across from you.

"Love is exhausting," you replied casually. "Much like everything in this life, it's all the same. At the end of the day, you're left feeling empty."

He listened. He understood what you mean, eternity can feel so empty. But he felt an optimism when he was around you, no longer did he feel chained to life, to time.

"I don't agree," he murmured softly, "I think you just haven't found it yet."

"Elijah, c'mon," you laughed a bit and shook your head.

It seemed as though every date you had in the last ten centuries paled in comparison. When you were with him it just felt different, it wasn't lust, or an insatiable need to be around him. It was peace, it was comfort, he felt like home and it was special.

"No, really," he paused and smiled softly. "C'mon, lets go for a walk, I'll show you," he stood up, reaching his hand towards you.

You stood, and began walking, chatting about old times. He reminded you of the day you spent together in 1599 where you saw Shakespeare's Julius Caesar at the Globe theater, both of you sitting up in the rafters with the best view there was.

One thing led to another and the two of you ended up chasing one another all around the city, drinking far too much rum and dramatically reenacting the stabbing in a fit of giggles.

You reminded him of the time in the 1650s in Spain where you witnessed a beautiful redhead attempt to flirt with him by twirling her fan and covering half her face. It just resulted in the both of you mocking her mercilessly, a small giggle escaped your lips when you remembered his laughter.

"She was so in love with you, but could barely hold a conversation with you, what was her name? The one with all the freckles," you chuckled.

"Ugh... not Silvia. I haven't thought about her in a very long time. Fortunately she went and married some merchant banker and left me alone," he chucked, guiding you towards a nearby garden.

You walked down a tree-shaded path, crossing a bridge over a trickling creek, and past the playground where children giggled as they played. Elijah led you towards a gazebo, passing by an elderly couple enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon.

"I thought you were going to show me how to find love?" you teased, elbowing him playfully.

He chuckled and put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close against him.

"Look at them over there, two people growing old together," he said softly, nodding towards the couple."That's a beautiful story right there, it goes from meeting, to dating, to falling in love, to having a marriage full of ups and downs. Every difficult time, every disagreement, every moment of compassion and reassurance is enough to have them stay together." He looked at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You listened closely, hanging on every word, studying his expression. Looking up at him as the sunlight came shining through the leafy branches of the trees.

"I bet if we asked them they would tell us the secret to it all," you said quietly, looking back over at the little old couple.

They were wrapped up in their own world, swaying ever so slightly to the soft music playing nearby. Their love for one another so bright.

Elijah stood and walked over to them, sitting down on the bench next to him. You paused for a moment and then followed him, moving to the empty spot beside him.

"Excuse me," Elijah spoke in a voice hushed and sincere. "We just wanted to know," he continued, gently compelling them to answer, "what is the secret of love?"

"Well, I guess, patience," the woman answered sweetly.

The man slowly blinked, his head cocking to the side as he answered, "trust, communication, passion..."

"What is your favorite memory together?" You asked politely, leaning forward.

They looked at one another and burst into hearty, genuine laughter.

"Doing dishes, long drives, waking up to breakfast in bed, cuddling under a blanket in the winter, or just a hug after a bad day..." she answered wistfully.

"All the quiet moments in-between, like coming home after a hard day of work and changing into our comfy clothes," he paused and grabbed her hand, "putting on a movie and just ordering in. We can lay there in one another's arms, always together in that bubble of comfort."

You smiled softly. There's something about the simplicity of it, and the sheer joy in doing those things with the one you love. The ordinary and everyday.

Elijah glanced over at you with a smile, then thanked the couple.

"Thank you, you've been wonderful," Elijah finished kindly.

"I hope you and your lady are just as happy as we are," the man said, turning to kiss his wife lovingly on the cheek.

"I'm sure of it," Elijah stood up and began walking away, holding his hand out for you.

You stood up and intertwined your fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze as you mouthed a thank you towards the elderly man.

"Does that answer your question? Love just happens and it's imperfectly wonderful," Elijah said simply.

"Have you ever found a love like that?" you asked curiously.

He paused and a thoughtful expression fell over his face, wondering where to begin. He placed his hand over yours, stroking the back of your knuckles as he looked deep into your eyes, confessing a feeling he's hidden all this time.

"Only once, when I was too young to understand what I had," he admitted softly. "We were only children then."

Your heart began to beat faster, hearing him say it out loud made your breath hitch in your throat.

"And what about now?" You asked in a near whisper, afraid of what he would say, but unable to live without the answer.

He grinned and suddenly scooped you up, throwing you over his shoulder, just like when you would play flight as children.

You squealed and laughed out in delight.

"What are you doing?" You giggled loudly, slapping his back, but he simply ignored you.

"Reminiscing," he answered swiftly.

"This is hardly reminiscing," you teased.

"To me it is, with you in my arms, laughing," he added cheekily.

You were incredibly flustered, but you didn't want this to stop. It was silly, and unexpected and made you think about all the times you two were together as children. It made you feel as you always did with him, free, alive, all nerves and blushing and awkward touches.

So you just rested your chin against him and giggled loudly as you watched the ground pass by underneath you.

"Where are you taking me?" you questioned softly.

He smiled and didn't answer, biting his lip as he tightened his grip on you.

It didn't take long for you to spot the bridge you walked over, carrying you out onto the sidewalk outside the gardens.

He pulled you up and set you back on your feet, both of you giggling breathlessly, your hands on his chest, his hands on your waist.

The two of you stood there for a moment, eyes scanning one another's face, catching your breaths and gazing longingly. His gaze focused on your lips, while yours focused on his eyes, the fondness in them made your cheeks heat up.

His grip tightened around you, your hands fisting in his shirt as he closed the distance, capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

You swore you could have floated away that moment. His hands cradled your face as you pulled him closer. Your lips parting for him as he deepened the kiss.

You pulled away from the kiss after a moment. "Can we talk about that for a minute?" you said, your gaze fell away, finding it hard to meet his eyes, your heart felt like it would burst from the surges of love that came pouring out.

He shook his head and kissed you again, brushing his nose against yours, a smile across his lips.

"Lets not speak... lets keep kissing," he whispered with a soft laugh.

You smiled and closed your eyes, tilting your head back, enjoying the feel of him loving you after such a long time. The feel of his body against yours.

He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and just taking a moment to enjoy your company. The feeling of your breath against his skin.

"So... let's talk," he smirked against your lips and traced his fingers down the side of your face.

He felt you nod. "Mmm, in bed," you murmured and stole another kiss.

"Okay," he nodded and swiftly scooped you into his arms.

"Nice place," you commented lightly as your eyes scanned over the art and furniture in the compound. "I can see you were in charge of the decor," you said cheekily.

He laughed. "Naturally, darling," he replied. "Klaus is always out for blood and I had to ensure it wasn't on every wall."

Elijah led you down a hallway to a lavish bedroom, opening the door and ushering you in, shutting it carefully behind him. He held you close, his hand on your waist, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear and pulling you in for a kiss.

"Do you remember the last time we were in bed together?" He asked softly.

"You brought me into your home under false pretenses, you said you were going to show me a dagger your father had," you replied, recalling the time you were teenagers, kissing in his bed, all nerves and eagerness.

"I really did want to show you that dagger, my intentions were innocent that evening," he protested lightly. "But then you laid down on my bed, making yourself at home, and there you were, wearing such a sweet little dress with such tantalizing seams all over."

"I can't believe you remember the dress I was wearing," you said, placing your hands on his chest and toying with the buttons of his shirt.

He chuckled. "I remember everything about that day," he smiled, "it was my first kiss, how could I not memorize every detail?"

"What else do you remember?" You asked softly, looking into his eyes.

"I remember laying down beside you, I was so nervous," he admitted softly. "We laid on our backs for a while, just chatting. Your hand brushed against mine and I wrapped my fingers with yours, scared you would push me away," he looked away, lost in the memory, smiling softly.

"I was so sure that you would, but you didn't and we grew quiet, all nerves, side by side." He looked back at you, a twinkle in his eye.

"We could hear the sounds of the village outside as it prepared for the feast. We laid there like that, my heart racing, thumb tracing your palm. I turned to face you, you wore this little shy smile. And there I was, frozen by the way you looked."

"Your hair was braided and those perfect lips were slightly parted," he cupped your cheek, grazing his thumb over your bottom lip. "I was terrified to mess it all up."

You were speechless, all you could do was smile and laugh softly. He began to guide you back towards his bed, still talking as he undressed you slowly, "But we laid there just staring, and gazing into each other's eyes. Slowly I leaned closer, so close we were breathing each other in, just sharing a breath, trying not to spook one another."

"And then, before I knew it, your lips found mine and all of my nervousness melted away. Slow, soft kisses, that little braid tickling my neck and the taste of the berries you had earlier still sweet on your lips."

You blushed at the memory, his words making you tear up, you couldn't believe he remembered.

"Your hands were shaking against my chest, so I lifted them to my lips," he stopped talking for a moment, reenacting the memory by kissing your hands once more.

"Then your mother walked in," you commented, smiling at his gesture.

He smirked against your skin. "Well, before she did," he began, he spoke softly as he slowly unzipped the back of your dress, letting it fall to your feet. "I was... learning the taste of your lips," he continued slowly. "They still taste the same, lovely and sweet,"

His eyes scanned over you, taking in the sight of the most beautiful woman in the world, right there in his room, standing there in nothing but a lacy black bra and underwear.

You smiled and tugged on the buttons of his shirt, eagerly undoing them and pushing his shirt off of his shoulders as you began kissing along his jaw.

"It feels like yesterday," you whispered, moaning against his lips as his hands went to your waist, his fingertips dancing over your skin.

The sensation tickled and made you giggle, trying to pull his hands away but that just sent a whole new wave of laughter bubbling out of you as he pulled you against him with a grin.

The two of you stumbled backwards to the edge of the bed, kissing deeply and continuing to undress each other as you fell onto the mattress in a fit of laughter.

He pinned you down, but you pushed him off, the two of you beginning to wrestle for the upper hand. You giggled and squealed as he tickled you mercilessly, kissing along your neck and biting playfully, all while his fingers danced and caressed over your stomach.

"Elijah, STOP! Hahaha," you pleaded, squirming beneath him. "Stop stop," you laughed.

"What's wrong, my little love," he asked playfully, grabbing your wrists in his hand and pinning them above your head.

You kissed him quickly, grinning when he released you, "Let me breathe!" you said with a laugh.

He smiled warmly, glancing down at your smiling lips. "You make me feel like a teenager again," he admitted softly, then began tickling your sides again, catching you off guard.

You squealed, squirming in his grip and playfully struggling to break free. You could feel his erection brushing against you, his hips pressing between your thighs as he continued to attack you.

"Eli!” You gasped, wriggling your body under him, wrapping your legs around his waist and flipping him over onto his back.

He was laughing along with you, his breathing heavy as he settled beneath you, grinning up at you. “I surrender, you have bested me,” he said, looking up at you in awe.

You smiled and sat back on his lap, "oh don't give me that cheeky grin," you replied, wrinkling your nose at him.

His hands fell to your thighs, squeezing them as he smiled. You rocked your hips slowly, grinding yourself on his cock. He moaned softly, his mouth hung open as he watched the way you moved above him. Your lace panties rubbing over the rough material of his pants.

"I've dreamed of this for centuries," he confessed in a whisper. "You on my lap, your hands on me, the beauty of your body..."

Your eyes glanced down as he spoke, admiring his abs and the V-shaped muscles running down below his waistband. You made eye contact and started to slowly unhook your bra, letting it fall to the ground before tossing it to the floor.

He groaned softly, admiring the softness of your breasts and the perk of your nipples. You caught him staring and smiled, taking his hands into yours and placing them on you, urging him to touch you.

He sat up, capturing a nipple between his lips, leaving a trail of kisses along your breasts, cupping and massaging them in his hands. He kissed up your chest to your neck and found your lips again, kissing you slowly and passionately. He broke the kiss, glancing into your eyes with a look of raw, aching love.

"You know what would have happened if my mother didn't walk in?" He murmured, keeping his voice low and hushed, nearly a whisper.

You simply shook your head.

"I would've put my head between these thighs," he continued, squeezing them in his strong hands. "I would've made you giggle and squirm until you surrendered to my lips," he grabbed your hips and rocked you along his length, making your breath hitch in your throat.

"You would've gotten me pregnant," you chuckled, thinking back to how naive and innocent the two of you were, no idea of the consequences of what you had been attempting.

He smiled and grabbed your face gently, "then I would have made you my wife," he grinned and leaned forward, whispering against your lips, "and we would have grown old together, watching our little ones run through the village... a full happy life," he kissed you again.

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "I always dreamed of waking up to your beautiful face every morning," he said softly. “Perhaps if time and circumstances treated us kindly…”

You felt a little sad at his words, imagining the perfect little life you could have had together. "I would have liked that," you said slowly, gazing into his kind eyes.

You held a gaze with him for a moment before kissing him again, reaching down to his pants, unbuttoning them with slow, careful movements. He watched as you tugged them down and off of his legs and then lowered down to kiss him again, rubbing your core against his length.

He pulled your panties to the side, tracing his fingers over your clit, rubbing it with slow and loving circles.

You broke the kiss, your forehead pressed against his, your eyes shut tightly as he pleasured you, massaging your clit with expertise. "‘lijah...," you let out a little moan. "Where did you learn that?"

He grinned, biting his lip as he watched the pleasure on your face. "I've been practicing with all these other women, waiting to have a chance with you." He replied.

You opened your eyes, an expression of faux hurt painted across your face. "Are you trying to say I was your last resort?"

He grabbed the back of your neck with a playful smirk, "you are my only choice, my love," he guided you back to his lips and kissed you deeply, his free hand cupping your ass, tugging you against him.

"Only choice," you repeated between kisses, grinding on his fingers as he pleased you.

"I love you, it was only ever you," he declared, his eyes scanning your face with intensity.

You smiled and stole another kiss from him. "Then, prove it," you whispered against his lips.

He grinned and pulled his hand away, suddenly ticking your sides again and making you laugh and whimper out playfully as he flipped you over onto your back.

You were laughing uncontrollably, grinning as you kissed him back while he tickled you. You gasped for air and submitted beneath him as he kissed and nipped his way down your body.

Finally, he made his way to your core, hooking a finger under the lace and pulling your panties down. He tossed them to the floor and dove in, draping your thighs over his shoulders, burying his mouth into you.

You gasped, laughing as you fell back onto the mattress, rocking your hips against him. He grinned up at you as he swiped his tongue over your clit.

"Allll these women, practice, and nothing to show for it," you sighed as you teased him, breathy and laced with laughter.

He looked up, a flash of competitiveness crossing his face as he eased two fingers inside you and nipped at the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your teasing was replaced with mewls and moans as you ran your fingers through his hair and rode his tongue, soft curses and whispered pleas were all you managed to get out.

He closed his eyes and took his time, one hand around your thigh, stroking circles over your skin, while his tongue and fingers worked in union. He couldn't believe he had you, right here, and he intended to make you feel every bit of love he had to offer.

He smirked against your heat as you tightened your grip on his hair, pulling him closer, grinding your hips against his mouth. He has dreamed of this moment for one thousand years, but the real thing was so much better than he had ever imagined.

You trembled and squeezed your legs around him, moaning and gasping as you were pulled closer to your climax. He urged you on as you fucked his mouth, whimpering softly, your free hand bunched up the bed sheets.

The stimulation was too much as he hummed and sucked your clit, your body shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. Your thighs gripped his head like a vice and your body stiffened as you cried out his name, digging your heels into the bed to try and ride it out on his mouth.

You tugged his head away, panting and trying to regain control of your body, your head still spinning.

You gasped and laughed, covering your face.

He smirked, as he wiped his mouth on your thigh.

You smiled down at him, "okay…maybe one thousand years was enough time to gain some skill," you chuckled, pulling him close for a kiss.

His hands trailed over your breasts, slowly kneading them and rolling your nipples between his fingers. You mewled softly against his lips, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He kissed your forehead, your nose and along your jaw, sucking a hickey into the side of your neck, watching it instantly heal. He could do this forever, tasting your skin and listening to the perfect little sounds you made.

You pushed gently on his chest, urging him to lay down, which he did happily, holding your hand as he laid on his back.

You peppered kisses down his neck to his chest, biting at his firm chest muscles and kissing down his toned abs, making your way to his erection.

"I've learned some skills as well," you teased, pressing kisses up the side of his length, placing a final kiss to the tip.

He groaned softly, smiling down at you, "oh really? I'd love to see that," he whispered encouragingly.

You opened your mouth slowly and lowered down, taking him all the way into your mouth. He moaned softly, tilting his head back and biting his lip as his fingers tangled in your hair.

You swirled your tongue around him, using the tips of your fingers to stroke the base, glancing up to watch the way his body reacted to your movements.

His lips were parted, his eyes shut. As his breathing grew ragged he smiled softly, letting his head fall back against the pillows as you pleasured him.

You hummed, bobbing up and down along his shaft, savoring the sweet sounds that left his throat.

He began to tug on your hair, taking handfuls as you quickened the pace, licking and sucking enthusiastically, slurping as you sucked on the tip.

You released his cock with a pop, stroking and pumping him in your hand, using your spit to keep it slick. You traced your thumb over the head, tapping him against your tongue.

He moaned softly, gripping the headboard with his free hand, slowly bucking his hips.

You took him in again, one final time, swirling your tongue, bobbing and sucking, pushing him all the way down your throat.

He let out a long, sexy groan as he reached his peak. "Yes, darling, yes... just like that...I'm-" he grunted, before spilling over your tongue with a deep, guttural moan.

You swallowed, licking and sucking him, milking him completely before pulling off. He stared down at you, his face was clenched and contorted, an expression of pure pleasure painted across his features. Then he sat up slowly pulling you against him in a messy kiss.

"How was that?" You asked softly against his lips.

He grinned against your mouth and kissed you again, cradling your face. "I don't think there are words that could describe...," he took a moment to catch his breath before continuing, his eyes lidded, still high on his climax. "How much I love you," he whispered against your lips.

"I bet you say that to every girl that has given you good head," you teased.

He furrowed his brow, watching your little grin. "Do you think I use that word lightly?... I love you, only you...," he pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes.

You ran your fingers through his hair, studying his features as you smiled.

"I love you too, Elijah," you whispered, pressing a slow, caring kiss to his lips.

You found yourself suddenly overwhelmed with love, with the memory of all the lost time you had missed with him. Tears formed in your eyes as you kissed him, causing him to break the kiss.

He studied your expression with worry. "What's the matter?" He asked softly.

"I don't want to miss another day," you replied, brushing away your tears, a goofy smile across your face.

He smiled at you with a chuckle. "Well, darling, we just have one thousand years of catching up to do," he said softly, wiping away your tears. "Not to mention all the other days to come after,"

You let out a little laugh as he pulled you into his arms, his strong hands roaming over your curves as he flipped you back underneath him.

"I can't wait," you said breathlessly, pulling him down for a passionate kiss.

Elijah smiled against your lips and kept one hand at your waist as he dragged the tip of his cock over your pussy, drenched from the pleasure and anticipation. He eased in slowly, sinking inside your warm center and muffling a groan against your neck. You let out a soft sigh, feeling so complete now that you were finally connected.

He lifted his head and gazed into your eyes, placing a hand against your cheek as he started to thrust slowly. He was quiet as he rolled his hips, his gaze flickering between watching his cock slowly sliding in and out of you, covered in your wetness, and you, biting your lip, your eyes squeezed shut as he filled you.

You moaned at his size, already sensitive from your last orgasm, the stretch felt amazing, your nails digging into his firm muscles. His large hands were clutched around your hips, steadying you as he fucked you in a slow, gentle pace.

"Listen to you," he grinned, "making such beautiful sounds for me," he praised, nipping at your ear.

His words went straight to your core as your breathing grew raspy, squeezing his cock so tightly that you pushed him out of you, moaning quietly.

"Mmm," he bit his lip, tapping his cock against your clit and then ran it back and forth over your wetness, admiring the view before guiding his cock back into you. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked softly, dropping a kiss to your forehead.

You shook your head, your eyes still shut. "No, you are just...very well-endowed, that's all," you giggled..

He rocked inside you for a moment, his hands gripping your hips. "Should I stop?" He whispered.

"Don't you dare stop, you owe me one thousand years of this," you cupped his cheek, pulling his face to yours, pressing your lips together.

"Who am I to deny you?" He kissed you slowly, his tongue danced with yours as he found his rhythm again, thrusting deep, his hands holding your thighs open.

He bit your lip and gazed at you, still not totally believing the vision of beauty beneath him.

The pure sexual lust that had built up between you paired with the overflowing love you felt for each other, made everything more intense. Your orgasms building, the clench around his length, the grip of your hands on his muscles. It felt like time had stopped for you both, existing only in the carnal moment you were sharing.

He moaned as you tightened around him, pushing your knees up to your waist to deepen his thrust. He trailed one hand down your soft skin and ran a thumb over your swollen clit, rubbing it in slow, tender circles.

You gasped and whimpered out his name, you were so sensitive and yet were so close to tumbling over again, "please, don't stop," you whispered urgently, a pleading look in your eyes.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and continued rubbing your clit, rolling his hips, giving you long, passionate strokes.

"That's it, that's it," he whispered through grunts. "Just like that, my darling," he breathed, lowering down to kiss you.

The love you made was passionate and sweet, soft and timid. It felt like it was all meant to be, pure, passionate love, made only for each other.

He used all his willpower to hold back his own, wanting to feel you release around him. Your body slowly stiffened, squeezing around his length, making him moan deeply. He didn't stop moving, encouraging you with gentle words in your ear and kisses to your cheek.

He couldn't hold on any longer, feeling you twitch, your mouth hung open in a silent moan as you reached your peak. A quiet, guttural groan rumbled deep in his chest as he spilled his warm cum inside you.

He pressed his forehead to yours as he breathed heavily, whispering sweet praises and confessions as you both held one another, sharing small and gentle kisses.

He rolled on to his side, bringing you with him, keeping you connected and moving your thigh over his hip to bury himself deeper. Neither of you wanted to let go of the feeling of being joined.

He snaked one arm behind your back to draw you even closer, and reached the other up to brush your hair out of your face. He kissed you deeply and ran his fingertips over your soft skin, moving them up and down your back as you looked into one another's eyes.

"That was..." you sighed happily.

"Yeah..." He smiled softly and let his eyes wander over your features, as if trying to sear it into his brain.

"I can't believe we waited so long to do this," you whispered, stroking your hands up and down his arms.

"Our days of waiting are over," he smiled softly, leaning down to kiss you again. His mouth on yours, swallowing your little moans, his fingers stroking your sides, both of you completely consumed by the other.

The room was dimly lit, candle flames casting a warm glow around you. Time finally gave you a break, let you have this moment you both were longing for all these years.

He loved you. You loved him, and now you were finally together. After one thousand years, it was well worth the wait.

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[03junkie]

‘Heart’— @rosekillermicrofic — 433 words

Evan’s secret hangs above him like a dagger. As he sleeps, as he lays awake, it threatens to drop into his skull, lodging itself there. He’s had a fair few secrets in his life, but this is one that occupies his mind and consumes his body.

Evan’s secret is Barty. They’re best friends, and Evan doesn’t wish to jeopardise anything for his own gain. Pandora knew about this; she knew about everything, bless her. She often encouraged Evan to talk to Barty about it, saying that Barty loved him enough to not turn away even if he didn’t reciprocate. She didn’t get it though, he couldn’t just tell him. It was more nuanced than that.

She told him that to get over him, Evan needed to talk about it out loud, so he could listen to the sheer ridiculousness that he spewed. Evan was defensive about this fact. It wasn’t ridiculous to him; it was far from it. He often indulged in talking about him though, despite Pandora’s dismay towards his cowardice.

‘Pandora, you don’t understand. He’s so bloody fit that it makes me physically ill.’ His sister rolls her eyes. ‘It’s not just his body. He’s so funny, and you know I have a weakness for that. God, he’s indescribable.’

‘I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job describing him, Ev.’

‘Sometimes I want him to just look at me so that I can stare at the green in his eyes. Oh my God, don’t get me started on how smart he is. Every time he runs his mouth, an angel dies in Heaven purely because of my thoughts. He makes my heart hurt, Pan.’ It’s the type of pain that starts out as a dull throb, but escalates into a tide ripping through the shore. ‘Sometimes I look at him and I praise whichever God is up there for creating such a man. It’s almost as if he was crafted by His hands and sent down here for one purpose.’

‘Which is?’

‘To torture me in the slowest, most cruel way possible.’ Pandora’s eyes widen slightly, just as Evan feels and arm sliding across his shoulders. He feels the familiar weight of Barty leaning against his torso. He had to force out the vulgarity that was starting to cloud his mind.

‘Whoever this guy is, he seems pretty lucky.’ Evan laughed nervously. ‘But you won’t leave your best friend for a boy, would you, Evan?’ Barty looks down at him, and Evan is practically holding himself up.

‘Course not. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.’

[judesmoonbeauty]

Black Wedding: The True Vow For A Jet-Black Bride - Jude Jazza

This is a repost. Due to the original being deleted, CGs will not be uploaded per my announcement. This is a fan translation only, so please expect grammatical errors and lack of nuance. While I appreciate your support and welcome re-blogs, please do not repost my translations elsewhere. Thank you for you support! ☾.

Jude: ….A woman with bad taste.

Flash of light

As I was taking deep breaths, I suddenly remembered the dream I had this morning.

(I dreamed that someone with a grudge against Jude came to my wedding….)

It seemed terribly realistic because he was always incurring grudges wherever he went.

(The only reason I think it might really happen is because of this situation….)

Standing in the deserted hallway, I exhale again and remember how it all began.

It was only a week ago that he suddenly decided to hold a wedding ceremony.

Flashback -

Jude: Oi, We’re gettin’ hitched.

Kate: What?

Jude: A weddin’. Want one dontcha.

Kate: We’re having……a wedding?!

I can’t help but raise my voice in at the unexpected statement.

(I had always dreamed of a wedding, but I thought Jude wouldn’t like it.)

Jude: What, don’t want it?

Kate: …….If I could, I would like to.

He raised his finger as he spoke.

Jude: In a week, no attendees, ‘n I bought a few dresses, so pick whatever ya like.

Kate: …..In a week?!

Flashback Ends -

(I know it’s nighttime and he said no attendees, but Crown wasn’t even present…..)

(I wonder why he suddenly said he was going to have a ceremony.)

I open the heavy door with my hands.

Kate: Ah…..

Through the veil I see him in an unusual outfit.

Jude’s eyes widened when he saw me.

Jude: Suits ya.

He takes my hand and the corners of his mouth soften slightly.

Kate: Um, Jude…..you look good too.

Old Pastor: Then we will begin the ceremony.

As the pastor was speaking, Jude muttered under his breath.

Jude: You’re goin’ to hell, too.

I was elated to see the somewhat complicated expression on his face.

Kate: Bring it on.

Jude: …..Ha.

Old Pastor: Now let’s exchange the rings…

I feel a sense of tension as I look at two boxes held out in front of me.

(As it goes, I put the ring onto Jude’s finger first…..)

The shiny silver was small but had a strong presence, and seemed to speak to the weight of the promise.

Jude: What a nervous look. Ya scared now?

Kate: You’re wrong! It just, feels very heavy and….

With trembling fingertips, I put the vow on his left ring finger, and for some reason Ellis appeared….

Kate: Huh?

Jude: Enough, just take him with ya.

Ellis: Kate, your dress is lovely. I was just telling everyone how nice it looks on you.

Jude: ….Don’t say anythin' unnecessary ‘n just go.

He walked out of the church with the pastor, who was confused as to what was happening.

Kate: Is everyone…..from Crown here!?

I instinctively grabbed him by the arm, and he gave me a nasty look.

Jude: …..They’re guardin' the venue.

Kate: Why is there security at the venue?

Suddenly remembering this morning’s dream, I choked on my words.

(Maybe they’re standing guard to ensure no one tries to attack Jude?)

Jude: ……Heard ya told Ellis ya wanted a weddin’ ceremony.

Kate: How did you know that….

I didn’t think that my honest feelings I’d blurted out would reach him.

Jude: Seems like ya didn’t say anything ‘bout it ‘cuz you thought I wasn’t interested, but that doesn’t mean I’m not interested.

Jude: I just didn’t do it ‘cuz I knew those idiots would sniff out the ceremony and cause trouble.

Kate: …..My wish, you made it come true.

He burst out laughing, took a piece of paper from his pocket and placed it on the altar.

Jude: I’m sure ya understand, this kind of thing happens everyday.

Jude: I can’t have a normal life, and I can’t have the married life you’re thinkin’ of.

Jude: If ya wanna turn back - do it now.

On the altar, was an open box and a quill.

— And one contract.

Jude: If the pastor was here then we couldn’t do this.

Kate: 1) I don’t object to this marriage. 2) Infidelity is strictly forbidden. 3) The transfer of money…

Kate: Did you make this, Jude?

Jude: Got complaints?

Kate: It’s not like that…..

(A contract for an occasion like this is so typical of you, Jude.)

I already know that he will not break his promise.

(And how much this marriage means to Jude.)

He was probably the person who tried to bring me back to my normal world the most when I came to Crown.

(He’s got a foul mouth, but he’s kind and compassionate…….)

(That’s the kind of person I fell in love with.)

He was taken aback when I signed it so easily.

Jude: …..Don’tcha want time to think about it’?

Kate: No. Isn’t this for you Jude?

Jude: ….hopeless.

The signed contract was placed from the altar into his pocket.

Jude: It’s lifetime employment.

Jude: Even if you cry or runaway, I’ll never let you go.

What awaits us ahead will be thorny, the destination to the deepest hell.

(But you’d laugh if I told you that my joy outweighed that.)

Kate: Even if hell awaits me, I won’t run away.

Kate: Even if I go to the end of the sky……as long as you’re there, that’s all I need.

He bit my finger sweetly and laughed as my nose grew stuffy and I felt like I was about to cry.

Kate: What are you doing….?

His expression was somewhat tender, and tears of joy flowed from my eyes.

Jude: Whatta ya mean, if ya look you’ll see. I put a curse on your ring finger.

Jude: Ha, whatcha cry even when you’re happy? I learned somethin’ good.

When the veil was lifted and I closed my eyes to his approaching lips, I thought I heard gentle laughter and tears started flowing again.

I’m sure that when the last day of my life comes, I will be happy that the curse on my ring finger was not broken.

[Master List] Dividers: @.natimiles

[ccfever]

Why do you support someone who gives no fucks about black woman who are just trying to have fun playing basketball. Cc has white privilege and I assume you do too

lmfaooooooo i’m not white and i don’t even live in the USA. caitlin has credited many black women for paving the way for her to be able to be in the position she’s in right now. difference is she mentions them by name. her basketball hero is literally maya moore. she went on national television and paid tribute to sheryl swoopes, lisa leslie, dawn staley, and maya moore for breaking barriers and being icons in women’s sports. she continuously, on record, have said that the wnba have many women in the league who are deserving of recognition and praise, and she has never took any credit for any of the growth happening in women’s basketball right now. i’d link you all these statements, but i have a life and don’t have the time.

asked about the fever’s first charter flight: i think it will be better if everyone has it, the product on the floor will only be better.

not once did she ever make that about herself.

she defended angel reese after the backlash from the 2023 championship game.

she defended chennedy carter and said the flagrant foul only happened because of competitiveness, and praised her for having a good season.

she denounced the racist and misogynistic people who are using her as a proxy for their agendas. i understand that she is not the most vocal player when it comes to social justice issues. does that immediately make her a racist person? why?

she’s never presented herself as a spokesperson, and to be quite honest with you, it would do everyone good if people stopped banging on caitlin clark’s proverbial door demanding statements and speeches, and start LISTENING to the many women in the wnba who are actually VOCAL, and have EXPERIENCED being marginalized. lift up and shine light on these women.

she has never done anything wrong herself, but you label her as a racist person. that’s disgusting to me because there are actual racist people out there. the chicago tribune editorial team. freaks on the internet. they’re everywhere and they’re the ones being racist but they don’t get any substantial pushback because caitlin clark is the one who takes the heat.

not gonna lie, you calling me a white person offended me in levels you cannot imagine. my country was colonized by americans, we are still suffering from the effects of everything done to us by predominantly white countries. i have a bias towards white people – i don’t tend to like them, especially if they’re not self aware.

you accusing me of having white privilege when you don’t even know who i am is rich. you don’t know me, and you don’t know what i see everyday. i live in literal hell. block me and move on with your life. this isn’t a fight you want to pick.

edit: it’s okay not to like her. it’s okay to feel like she isn’t doing enough. it’s okay to stop supporting her because of that. but being so extreme and calling her a racist person is unreasonable. and calling me racist and white? that’s just stupid. have some nuance.

[genderqueerdykes]

Hello, I’ve got a long winded request for advise that I’d like to ask from you (if you’ll give me a year in advance to ramble lol).

Would just like to state first off that this was something I spent half an hour on cycling between the thoughts of “this is horribly offensive” and “who better to ask” due to some of your posts and because I commonly enjoy and trust your opinions to be at least honest. I know you aren’t obligated to answer this ask but I’d really appreciate it even if it’s simply just a “AITA?” “YTH” situation.

I’ve had an issue recently where I am being ridiculed for making choices for my body and its appearance. The choice is losing weight. I’ve lived my entire life so far as a fat person, for the last 13 or so years I was well above the “class 3 obesity” threshold, right now I’m sitting in the low end of the first class. I don’t really like it, but when I was in the overweight category (I haven’t been an average weight since I was 5, a little more on that later) I got told that by losing weight I was being inherently fatphobic and making other fat people uncomfortable.

I know dieting and the likes can be an uncomfortable topic in general but I never brought it up except for rare mentions of my weight loss, mostly because I was proud of my progress. I’m not wanting to be “thin, “skinny,” whatever etc etc, I would just like to be in the middle of the average category with some visible muscle mass. I was shamed so much that I put myself back up into the obese category, and I’m all for body positivity but it’s not working for me when I know what I want my body to look like. I’m neutral on my body and its functions in general but I’m uncomfortable with the gain I didn’t want and the knowledge that I was on my way to a point of comfort.

As I said before, I haven’t been an average weight since I was 5. That’s because I developed severe binge eating disorder due to trauma. My weight gain was uncontrollable and made me uncomfortable for over a decade. Now that I have some control and a sense of body neutrality, I would like to lose what I gained from my disorder. Not all of it ofc, I’m an adult now and I want a healthy adult body, but I want to be able to make the choices and changes to put my body back into the average weight that I feel was “stolen” from me.

I suppose those thoughts could be considered fatphobic from a certain viewpoint but to me my binge eating disorder and obesity are/were things that I feel the need to heal from. I don’t have these thoughts about anyone else. I don’t want anyone to lose weight if they don’t want to. I love fat bodies. I just want to have the choice to lose weight myself without being considered a bad person.

Do these thoughts and feelings make me a bad/fatphobic person? Does losing weight make me a bad/fatphobic person? I genuinely just want what I believe is best for my body.

Thank you for your time. Stay well.

i have a lot of feelings on this sort of topic, so i appreciate you sending an ask like this, because it's one of the most nuanced, complicated discussions i've tried to have with people recently and a lot of people do not understand the distinction. i'm going to try to break this down to have it make sense to as many people as possible

first of all, people have the right to choose what weight they want their body to be at, so long as it's not causing genuine harm, especially permanent harm. losing weight is not inherently evil, the thing is, a lot of people either need to lose weight or choose to do so for good reasons. i was very heavy at one point, 360 lbs, and i was starting to get new pain i hadn't experienced before. it was hard to stand for any period of time. i couldn't walk much.

after i started walking around the neighborhood and losing that extra weight, that pain went away. i feel a lot better having less of that weight on me. i gained weight in a very unhealthy manner during this time, mostly by not eating well for my dietary needs, sleeping excessively, no exercise, and so on. the thing is that we have to take care of our total health and not everyone who is fat is unhealthy, but some people can and do put on weight that impairs their functioning or health and it's not good to ignore that this is a thing that can and does happen

you're allowed to decide what you feel your body should look like especially if you are not taking this to extremes. i like to keep my weight below a certain range, myself. i keep a close eye on it. fortunately it's easy to stay around a certain healthy range for my body because i cook a lot of meals at home and i mostly eat vegetarian food and fish due to allergies and digestive issues. i'm still about 311 lbs but it's in a much healthier configuration for my body

weight is a complex conversation. both thin and fat bodies are stigmatized. we need to drop our obsession with body image and let people be the arbiters of their own weight, at least, letting people express what they want and helping them reduce harm and find ways to achieve that goal realistically in a healthy manner. shaming people doesn't work. we've proven this decade after decade. shaming skinny people doesn't work. shaming fat people doesn't work. shaming anyone doesn't work

dieting is a very specific thing. everyone's diet is 100% unique to their body. your digestive system works different than the person next to you's. you may not metabolize nutrients as well as someone else. you may process fats and proteins differently. you may need a lot of electrolytes. you may not be able to digest fiber. you may struggle with fructose, glucose and other sugars. you may not be able to eat any meats at all. you may need lots of fruits. it will depend greatly on who you are

it's best to work with your body than against it. you are allowed to decide what weight range you want to be within. best thing you can do is attempt an elimination diet to see if there are foods that just don't do your body any favors, these can and should be done very slowly with one food at a time. but i'm not a health professional, so that's just a suggestion.

either way good luck, i don't like when people try to boil this down to "this is good" or "This is bad". there are good and bad things to all of this. it's worth discussing both sides of that. i hope this helped you in any way

[minotaur-asterion]

Fellas, I haven’t written a post like this in five years, and I hoped I’d never have to, but here we are. Recently I’ve been seeing a couple posts in the Slay the Princess tag spreading negativity: complaining about certain characters getting more attention and different treatment, implying rather serious things about people who prefer one character over the others, generally trying to start drama. (That is what I assume the posts are meant to do, since I would hope everyone remembers that if you don’t have anything nice to say...) The topic of community within this fandom is very important to me so I feel it’s necessary to give a very gentle reminder of what the game is all about.

Attempting to shame other people for focusing on specific characters is horribly inappropriate. The game only has three characters, and there’s not much room to ignore any of them given their importance to the story. If people love the Princess, that’s because she’s literally in the title of the game; if people love the Long Quiet, that’s because they are an expression of you as the player; if people love the voices and the Narrator, that’s because they act as your companions throughout the game.

I’m really glad that most of us appreciate all the characters! But you cannot expect every single person to have the exact same opinions about every character. We all come from different walks of life and we will all have our own specific reasons for loving a certain character more or less. Whether you understand these reasons or you’re making general assumptions about why they’re particularly drawn to them, it isn’t okay to be rude about it. As the saying goes: “don’t yuck someone else’s yum.”

It truly makes me sad to see that, considering this game is about perspectives (especially perspectives that conflict), some Slay the Princess fans refuse to extend the courtesy of hearing someone out- and, barring that, leaving them alone. Seriously, if something bothers you there’s a block button!

There is, of course, nuance; if you’re speaking with a friend group in private and everyone has explicitly stated this kind of behavior is acceptable, then have at it. My problem is when people do it to random strangers- they are not engaging in fandom to listen to others rag on about them and insinuate things like misogyny and misandry.

Kindness is free, don’t forget to like and subscribe, etc.

[artist-issues]

I just need to rant about this post https://www.tumblr.com/thememedaddy/757194456784076800 because it’s really not that bad but it annoyed me because it was the second bad Cinderella take I’d seen that day and for some reason they keep cropping up on my dash. People really don’t understand the plot at all. Anyways I thought you might find it interesting and be able to work your analysis magic

Aw, this is just somebody trying to be funny. It’s not worth picking at.

But for fun, and because I love to talk about Cinderella, and for you:

Cinderella didn’t settle for the Prince. She already had a “happy life with her animal friends” because she was so kind to everyone. If you asked Cinderella if she had a happy life before the ball, it would not have been out-of-character for her to say “it’s not so bad, I have my animal friends!”

Even in the original (that word has some nuance when it comes to fairy tales, but this one is the most universally well-known) Charles Perrault fairy tale, Cinderella leaves the Prince during the ball to go sit by her sisters and share her oranges with them. Because she’s loving, and gives love, regardless of the worthiness or response of the creatures or people around her. She’s happy to be gracious and give love.

That’s the whole point; she’s always good, she’s always gracious, and she won’t let a silly little thing like “dire circumstances” get in the way of that. So this idea that she was looking for “happy life” outside of the one she already had? That just gives too much power to her circumstances.

No, she wanted to go to the ball because it was supposed to be beautiful and fun, and because her sisters were going, and being left behind on top of everything else would be too much, even for her amazing strength of faith. So. She was never looking for “a better life” out of the ball. She was just looking to share one beautiful occasion with the family she had left.

So let’s get that squared away. Secondly, this joke’s whole “he needed to make her try on a shoe because she had no makeup on so he couldn’t recognize her” is silly for three reasons.

In just about every major version of this fairy tale, The Prince is not personally trying the slipper on the mystery-girl. He’s sending out his staff, who don’t know what the mystery-girl looks like. So the slipper is their clue. If he’d been looking for her personally, a look at her face would certainly have been enough, because all versions of the tale consistently state that Cinderella is just as beautiful in rags as she is in her ball clothes. But that’s not how the story works.

The slipper is supposed to be symbolic. In the earliest version of Cinderella, it’s made of gold. The idea is that when Cinderella is in those hard, unique, sometimes delicate shoes, she’s in her true form. Not just anybody can dance in glass gracefully. So the Prince is not an idiot. It’s not just “can they fit the slipper in size.” It’s “can the fit the slipper in grace.”

Cinderella’s outer beauty is symbolic for inner strength of character. Her graciousness is the defining trait of the character. So the idea that the Prince knew nothing about her except her surface-level beauty, and that’s all he was basing his decision to marry her on, would totally hamstring the point that the rest of the story—kindness to low creatures, graciousness to low sisters, the fairy godmother—works so hard to make.

[alwachart]

On Raphael and fandom discourse

I grow tired of writing the same thing every now and then when this topic comes up yet again, so I’m going to write my thoughts on one post and be done with it for good.

Here are my thoughts on “Raphael is bad in bed” discourse: when people with zero reading comprehension try to pass their loud take as canon. This is an analysis on fandom claiming “it's canon” and why it actually isn't.

For the devil’s sake let’s do this orderly, I believe he’d like that.

So these are the lines you get when you bed Haarlep and ask about Raphael’s performance. From here you can continue the game without killing Haarlep (let’s imagine we do this first) and use this information to mock Raphael, which results in you getting this line of dialogue lather when he he says “It’ll only take a moment to finish you”

This is an “I have a single incel brain cell” type of joke that forces Tav/durge to interpret a laugh and a “no” like a 15 year old incel guy roaming 4chan would. People are using it to say Raphael is a “two pump chump”and I…don’t get it. Maybe I’m too old for this fandom, who knows, but the way I see it this sentence is rooted in a fragile masculinity view on the issue of “bad s*x”. As a pan woman who has relations with any gender, it never crossed my mind that he was quick to finish when I heard the laugh and no, it didn’t because that's not what bad s*x is about. Believing so comes from a penis-centric interpretation, as if a pp is something necessary for pleasure during s*x, which it isn't, and how long you can use it as a measure of it, which again it isn't. The only person who needs a pp to feel pleasure during intercourse is the person who owns one. All in all, a very puerile and obviously wrong take. 

Real bad s*x lacks pleasure, it's icky, painful even, it makes your skin crawl and your insides twist. Best case scenario it is just boring and you’ll never see them again. So no, I don't think Raphael is “a two pump chump”, and I can say this isn't canon because nowhere in the game the dialogue states that as truth. It's an immature joke that's pushed on the player dialogue and fans fall for it like flies on honey. This aggressive rhetoric from a sector of the fandom is the only thing that makes it feel canon and has people claiming it is, repeating the line “bad in bed, bottom two pump chump” as often as you hear “cycle of abuse, Caz 2.0” in another corner of the fandom we all know very well. All because players lack critical thinking, life experience, a s*xual life or are simply too plain to understand the nuances of language and syntax.

On to the next line, because we not only have fragile masculinity here but also, you guessed it, homophobia! Yay!

This is the one that makes people say he’s a bottom. Oh boy, do I have things to say about this. Let’s start with a bit of syntax work!

To be on top or beneath: 

Here no one is talking about being a top/bottom, but rather where two bodies are positioned in a plane that works by the law of universal gravitation. It discloses zero information about pp placement of either one

Below, never on top, never: 

Listen, this is actually a rather homophobic take!! People jump to call Raphael a bottom in milliseconds as if 1- it’s something bad he should be mocked for, which even if he was…it isn’t, and as if 2- Haarlep said he's a bottom instead of what he actually says: that Raphael is physically under him when they have fun, well, when Raphael has fun, you know what I mean!

That’s it folks, there’s no more to it, nothing more deep to read between the lines. There’s no more lines. Any take saying “Raphael is a bottom” simply comes from people lacking reading comprehension and having juvenile minds.

So, the answer questions everyone is making over and over, is Raphael bad in bed? Is he a bottom? The answer is: we don’t know, but what we do know is Haarlep doesn’t enjoy s*x with him, they always f*ck with Raphael being a lazy mf beneath him (can’t blame him, I’d let the incubus do all the work and take my form too, double pleasure? Fyeah). Him being a bottom is fanon. Nothing bad in picturing a fictional character like one if it brings you joy, but If you keep saying it’s canon over and over you’re only ridiculing yourself and exposing the views you have on the topics mentioned above (masculinity and homophobia) for the world to see.

Make yourself a favour and maybe go read some books, educate yourself and expand your vocabulary a bit. Also if you're inexperienced maybe ask a varied group of people what they consider to be “bad in bed” before using your imagination, the answers might surprise you! I promise you'll see the word in a different manner once you do!

[jewish-vents]

first - i just want to say thank you for making this blog. it’s so important to know that we aren’t alone in the many things we’re experiencing and feeling right now, especially when so many of us have become painfully isolated as of late.

i apologize for how long this one is going to be.

i’ve been feeling so, so alone recently. my tumblr dash has been cut down to just a handful of jewish blogs that i can trust to be kind and understanding and nuanced, but it means that the majority of the content i see is about antisemitism and the war. after a while, it becomes draining to scroll through what feels like endless sadness. i turned to looking at fandom tags instead of following fandom blogs, but it makes me feel equally as insane to click on a blog about race cars and immediately see a post with 60k notes calling what’s happening in gaza “the new holocaust”. i started going back on twitter, but fan accounts on there too are only safe for a day or so before the account owner shares some awful antisemitic tweet from an account known to be an anti-jewish extremist. i went back on instagram briefly, but i was soon afraid to look at people’s stories for fear i’d see something terrible and lose yet another trusted person from my life.

in person, i have to walk by signs saying “zionism = genocide” and hastily scribbled palestinian flags with the colors in the wrong spot on my way to class every day. a wall across from my apartment says “BDS” in giant letters. i haven’t opened my curtains in months because of it. a “protest” of about 25 people stood in the center of campus and yelled and waved their fists in passing students’ faces, so jewish students didn’t go to class on any of the days they gathered. i only have one non jewish friend left at school - the rest abandoned me because i either called them out on antisemitic rhetoric or refused to go along with the idea that anyone, palestinian or israeli, muslim or jewish, is less than human. i had taken several of them along to our hillel’s seder in the past. i don’t know who i can safely go with this year. i have a few jewish friends, of course, but i love bringing goyische friends with little connection to judaism along to experience how joyful and loving jewish holidays can be.

it feels like there is no escape from this fucking war. it sickens me that it’s the only thing people pretend to care about - where is the attention for sudan, ukraine, armenia, uyghurs in china, syria, guyana? how is putting an emoji in your twitter bio or putting a translucent overlay of the palestinian flag on your tumblr icon any sort of real activism? how have we gone from “antisemitism is wrong” to “(((zionists))) control the world media”? it seems like the war is a fandom to these people. it seems like nobody cares enough to fully read and think critically about what they share, let alone do real research beyond looking at an infographic somebody shared on their instagram story. they’ll add on “don’t forget your click today!” to an unrelated twitter thread that went viral, flip the bird at the local starbucks, and put “won’t you free my palestine” on their instagram stories. they’ll anonymously tell a jew online to commit suicide. they’ll feel secure in the knowledge that they’re the perfect leftist, that this is somehow “good trouble”. all this praxis, and nothing to show for it but massive surges in hate crimes against jews. good job, guys! you singlehandedly saved every innocent person in gaza!

it’s isolating. it’s scary. jews can’t mourn. jews can’t be angry. jews can’t disagree. jews can’t suffer. jews can’t be whole, complex people with diverse beliefs and experiences. suffering is a game, and the goal is to hurt the most, scream the most, die the most, all to appease western leftists whose closest connection to war and violence was reading the hunger games in middle school.

i’m tired of it all. i want a peaceful and just resolution to the war. i want the mindless hatred everywhere to stop. i want to be able to scroll through social media and see nothing but fandom. i want to walk through campus with my magen david showing and all the friends i lost by my side on the way to the hillel seder. i want to open my curtains again. i know the experience of one diaspora jew is nothing compared to what people living in israel and palestine are currently going through, yet i still need this all to end. i don’t think any of us can go on like this, but we must, because we have. for thousands of years, we’ve gone on. that still doesn’t mean it has to be this hard all the time.

all i can think is “now we are slaves. next year may we be free.” now we are slaves to hatred and violence and suffering. next year may we all be free. next year may we all be in jerusalem.

.

[kipsels]

Cross-Pollination

Dan Heng x Stelle

ft. Dan Feng

There is a great level of expertise required to safely navigate the galaxy. There were things like wormholes and neutron stars and black holes that skewed charted courses, plus a bunch of other things Stelle didn’t really understand.

But what she did know was that when Himeko and Mr Yang started talking about the nuances of the Astral Express’s flight through space, her brain started to go all fuzzy like it had been filled with the static sound of white noise.

She regretted not listening to them more, sure. But even if she had she doubted it could have explained this.

A man who looked suspiciously like Dan Heng was standing in her bedroom, casually perusing his surroundings like he belonged there. Except Stelle was pretty sure he wasn’t Dan Heng, and he definitely did not belong there.

“Who are you?” She blurted out, unable to comprehend the fact that there was a strange Vidyadhara man staring back at her.

“I see someone has decided to redecorate The Express,” He said in lieu of an answer.

“Uh? Wha-?” She intelligently replied, her jaw lost somewhere on the floor from the shock.

Some small part in the back of her mind that wasn’t paralysed by the strange situation politely pointed out that his regal clothing looked like that of a high elder. Except he also wasn’t Bailu.

At least, she didn’t think that was Bailu.

She watched as he combed the lengths of his black hair behind one pointed ear, a small smile lighting up his handsome features.

“You must be a new member of The Nameless,” He said as he approached, picking up her limp hand from where it hung by her side. “My name is Dan Feng, I'm the High Elder of the Xianzhou Luofu. And… Baiheng’s friend.”

Dan Feng… High Elder of the Xianzhou Luofu….

Huh!?

Stelle gaped at him as he bowed low before her, his lips brushing against the back of her knuckles. She’d barely recovered when he straightened, his bright aquamarine eyes idly perusing her from head to toe.

What in the ever living space-time continuum was happening right now?

“And what is your name, my fair lady?”

“Uhh… Dan Heng?” Stelle called out loudly.

Dan Feng blinked at her, his eyebrows raising in surprise, “Your… name is Dan Heng?”

“N-no my name is Stelle– Wait, no! What am I doing? DAN HENG!?”

“Stelle,” He mused, unfazed by her flustered cries, “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. I am disappointed Baiheng has not seen fit to introduce us beforehand.”

Stelle stumbled backwards, Dan Feng’s grip on her hand the only thing keeping her upright. Her mind raced as it tried to reconcile the fact that Dan Heng’s predecessor was standing before her, very real and very alive.

And very forward.

“Your scent, it’s rather beguiling… I’d like to get better acquainted with it,” He purred, and a squeak escaped Stelle’s mouth.

“Dan Heeennng!?”

“It’s Dan Feng, my dear.” He pulled her closer, Stelle’s hands coming up to press up against his firm chest to keep him away.

“Stelle? Is everything okay? I thought I heard you calling my n–”

Dan Heng appeared in the doorway of her bedroom, his eyes bulging out of his head in shock.

“You did not tell me there was another Vidyadhara male aboard this ship,” Den Feng spoke tersely, his arm wrapping around her waist.

“Save me,” Stelle mouthed silently to Dan Heng, who looked like his sleep paralysis demons had come to life before him.

The analogy was probably not all that far off.

Dan Heng shook himself out of his stupor, his hands raised as he cautiously approached. “How is this even possible? How are you even here?”

“I am here at the invitation of The Nameless, while you are…”

Dan Feng seemed to pause, his eyes running over Dan Heng in consideration. Time seemed to slow as he registered the mirror image reflecting back at him, the youth in Dan Heng’s features unable to hide the truth.

“A temporal paradox…” Stelle heard the two of them mutter in unison.

“I did not think I would ever be presented with the opportunity to look my own reincarnation in the eye, but such blessed opportunities should not be overlooked,” Dan Feng continued, his head tilting to the side in curiosity.

“Tell me, boy. Did I find a solution to the Vidyadhara’s plight in my time?”

Dan Heng’s eyes hardened, barely biting back a scowl. Stelle's heart panged with sympathy, unable to stop herself from reaching out to him for comfort, only to be tugged back into place by her High Elder captor.

“It could cause irreparable damage to tell you the future, you know that,” He growled.

Dan Feng’s eyebrow quirked, “So I failed.”

Dan Heng screwed his mouth shut, opting to simply glare at Dan Feng in silence.

Stelle remained frozen in place by the bizarre reality of the situation while wishing she’d taken more time to learn about the laws of physics.

“And you? Have you continued my endeavour?”

“I am not the High Elder. It’s not my problem.” Dan Heng bit back.

Stelle flushed as she felt Dan Feng’s chest press against her back, his hands stroking down the length of her forearms before threading his fingers through her own. Her stomach fluttered as he nosed at her hairline, breathing in her scent like a fine perfume.

“Then, if you are not willing to fulfil your duty to the Vidyadhara and seek the longevity of the draconic bloodline, I shall do it for you.”

Stelle squeaked.

Dan Heng gasped.

And Dan Feng pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, faint laughter brushing against her skin.

-Fin-

[pearwaldorf]

I have been trying to write this on and off for a while. I figure the second anniversary of the show is as fine an occasion as any to shove it out into the world. It is not everything I want to say about it, but I think the important bits are there.

It is a human impulse to be seen. To be told, through art, you are not alone. It is universal, but of special importance to people who are not well-represented in media (i.e. everybody who isn’t cis, white, able-bodied, skinny, and conventionally attractive).   

This show speaks to me as a queer person who figured things out later than most of my peers. (Not quite as late as Ed and Stede but not terribly far off either.) It’s not super common to see queer media address this, and I didn’t realize how much I needed that reassurance until I got it. That it’s okay to find these things any time in your life. To be told “A queer is never late, they’re always fashionably on-time.” 

They’re not my first canon queer ship. But they are the first ones where I knew it was true from the get-go. Multiple people assured me this was the case. And yet, I still didn’t believe it until I saw it with my own two eyes. This experience is not unusual for fans around my age.  

After I finished up season one, I laid in bed and cried. It’s not something I thought would affect me so much, but it feels like a weight I’d carried so long I didn’t realize it wasn’t supposed to be part of me is gone.

One of the reasons people unfamiliar with the fandom seem to think it’s absolutely crazy (which some of it is, to be fair, but every fandom has that) is the way fans of the show get extremely super intense about it. It took me a few weeks to realize this is a trauma response. I’m not even sure “trauma” is the right word. It doesn’t interfere with my day to day function, but it lasted for years. Decades. So it was definitely something that fucked me up. And in the way you can only start to see something as you’re moving past it, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to get my head around this. (I don’t know if I have anything to say about it yet. Maybe I need more time to sit with it.)

I know this sounds contrary, but I’m really glad David Jenkins does not come from fandom. Sometimes it’s good to know where a line is, and others it’s better to not know there’s a line at all. And this is, sad to say, remarkable to somebody who has had to deal with this for so long. With so many writers and showrunners aware of the line, and getting right up next to it, but never crossing it.

Imagine doing a show with a queer romance and not understanding why this was received with such emotion and fervor, because it’s just two people in love right? What blissful ignorance that this needed to be explained to him! And then he listened to people’s experiences with queerbaiting, and went “Oh my god you thought I was going to do WHAT?” And then you go “Huh. That is really fucked up.” 

The problem with being told something enough, even though you know it’s wrong, is you start to believe it regardless. All the excuses and hedging. It’s so very difficult to do they tell us, when we hear from queer creators how they had fight tooth and nail to make it as gay as it already was. 

And then comes Jenks, just yeeting it out there: majority queer and (not and/or. and) POC cast, an openly non-binary person playing an openly non-binary character. The ability to not have to make one queer (and/or) POC character speak for everybody, so you can inject a tiny bit of nuance into the conversation. The way you can tell more kinds of stories, like the one where the smol angry internalized homophobe comes into his own with the support of a queer community, even though he was a giant fucking asshole to them before.

So many people were like “You can just DO that? It’s really that easy?” And wasn’t that a fucking Situation, to have that curtain pulled aside. What next? Majority POC casts with stories about POC written by POC? Absolute madness. (Please please watch The Brothers Sun on Netflix. It’s so fucking good.) 

And people will scoff and say “Of course a cishet(?) white man would be able to get this pushed through.” But do they usually? The thing I don’t think people understand about allies is they use their privilege to wedge the door open. You still have to do the work to get through, but at least you have a place to start. And it really fucking matters.

The press keeps trying to tell me The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin is the OFMD substitute we need while we float in the gravy basket. I’m sure it’s a perfectly fine show, but I don’t know who has watched OFMD and decided the itch we needed scratched was anachronistic historical comedy.

I want stories written by people that reflect their lived experiences, with actors and crew committed to bringing that to life. And I would like streamers and studios to commit to giving them a chance, and marketing them properly so people know they exist. 

You can keep people satisficed with scraps for only so long. At some point, somebody is going to give them a whole seven course dinner and people will wonder why they’ve been putting up with starving this entire time.

[hirayaea]

Seiya: Your emotions are spilling out.

Kinoa: You’re the same! You weren’t able to keep your cool when you met her, right?

Seiya: …

the jp lines differ so greatly from the eng lines in this part of the story; and to discuss it, we have to start with jeremiah’s voice acting

in the jp dub, when jeremiah meets mc, he’s so excited, then when mc thanks him he begins to sniffle, saying:

Kinoa: No need to be so thankful. I never would have thought the day would come that I could be of service to you… huhu

the “huhu” there literally exists as 「ううっ」 which indicates sniffling/crying, and we can hear that clearly in the jp dub

after this, mc is kinda weirded about by how sincere jeremiah is, and this is the point where xavier steps between them and says something to the effect of: ‘ah, this guy is just overly friendly’

this is, of course, xavier’s way of covering up for jeremiah’s tears, because mc has absolutely no clue why jeremiah would be emotional about her

mc accepts this reason, and has that cute conversation with xavier where he gives her all the james bond stuff + flowers, and then she goes on her way

when she leaves, jeremiah and xavier have the conversation as seen at the start of this post

but in english, this is the conversation:

first of all: I am very much aware that the main text is in cn, hence I’m not sure if, at this point, it’s just translator preference coming into play; but as I can only understand en and jp, I will focus on comparing those

I really don’t know why he says “it’s flawed” in the en version—it raises the question: what is flawed? mc’s presence? the plan? mc’s entry to the forbidden zone? it even makes less sense when jeremiah steers it back by asking if he was able to keep his cool when he met her. there’s no continuity to “it’s flawed”, but because jeremiah changes the topic, we accept it and the story goes on

now, if we go back above to the jp version, seiya uses the term 「綻びだらけ」 —which is a actually a very nuanced phrase. it usually means “full of tears” or “full of open seams”, but it can mean “full of emotions that broke through” or “being unable to keep emotions in” such as suddenly being unable to help but smile or cry

we use jeremiah’s voice acting and his response to identify our nuance. jeremiah was sniffling, then he replies 「お前も」 to seiya, which basically means “you too”, followed by the line “you weren’t able to keep your cool when you met her, right?”

so it only makes sense that the meaning of 「綻びだらけ」 here is being unable to keep emotions in, as both of them accuse each other of being emotional when they first meet mc, but they’re supposed to be not (because of their secret + non intervention policy)

it’s interesting also how in jp, jeremiah is certain seiya wasn’t able to keep his cool, as he phrases his sentence in an accusing manner; but in en, he asks it like a knowing question

honestly, in the end, the overall storytelling is the same, but I feel like due to the conversation, the subtleties of jeremiah’s character as both mc and xavier’s best friend is more pronounced in the jp version

again, just thought I’d share my thoughts on this!

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ofc this post is for @skynapple as she made a post recently about jeremiah’s role in xavier’s life

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source: main story

disclaimer: i am not a native jp speaker but i have studied it formally + lived in jpn! but if you see anything that needs to be corrected I’ll be glad to learn and discuss it! thank you!

[crippleprophet]

Is it okay for people with agoraphobia to look and take some of the advice you have for housebound people on here? I'm not really great at picking up nuance so I'm worried that it'd be crossing some boundary or that it's not the intention of the tag

that’s completely okay, i appreciate your desire to be respectful even though i’m sorry you were concerned! i absolutely consider folks with agoraphobia my comrades + community members and i’d be super honored if anything i’ve shared is helpful (+ am always interested in hearing what that was if you’re comfortable!) the rest of this is not anything you need to answer your question, just thoughts i’ve been having on the subject

i haven’t had the opportunity to talk to enough homebound [due to chronic illness / “physical” reasons] people to know if this is a common experience but for me i’ve noticed that similar to chronic illness often carrying depression with it, since becoming homebound i’ve become terrified of leaving the house.

this is definitely influenced by the fact that it’s untenably painful, my photosensitivity (in the UV sense not the epilepsy sense), the ongoing pandemic, the fact that i only left the house to go to the doctor for over a year & i’m afraid of the doctors appointment itself due to medical trauma, etc etc but like. there’s also the very strong pull of habit – i’m an incredibly obsessive & ritualistic person – and what Goffman refers to as “the relief of self-isolation” for marginalized people sheltering from a hostile society, a phrase i read in undergrad 5 1/2 years ago that’s stuck with me ever since for how profoundly it resonates.

i’m not trying to say these are necessarily your or any other person with agoraphobia’s feelings & experiences, more to illustrate how the liberation of all homebound people & shut-ins & hermits is bound up together; any sanist strategy for oppressing agoraphobes can easily be leveraged against me, not least because as a severely underdiagnosed person, the medical establishment does not think there is any “legitimate” “physical” reason for me to be homebound. to respond to this oppression by arguing it’s inapplicable because i’m not crazy would be untrue + a cruel act of lateral violence.

i’ve been reading a lot of butch/femme history recently (i post about that on my main @campgender; followers age 18+ only please) & have found myself entirely reconfiguring my understanding of the queer art of isolation, the incredible ability of our ancestors to hunker down & survive under circumstances unimaginable to the average person. i absolutely don’t want to deny the deep pain – not only the aspects i experience but also the heightened isolation of people without or before internet access + the ways these circumstances / forms of oppression can foster abuse –

but my god, so many 50s butches didn’t leave their homes during daylight hours for years in order to not be hate crimed for their gender presentation, & that’s the folks who were making it to the bars. so many others – “discreet” couples who didn’t want to risk being outed by engaging in queer community; people assigned female who “passed” as men & their partners; butch sex workers & other people with identities perceived as contradictory or unacceptable – existed marginalized by both queer & normative communities.

every time i think substantially about homeboundedness i always get tracy chapman’s “subcity” stuck in my head. obviously my access to housing period is a huge position of privilege, & i’m in the most economically secure position of my adult life so far; the abjection i experience is nowhere near the scale of people in the position of the speaker of the song, who’s implied to be street homeless. but the line “people say it doesn’t exist ‘cause no one would like to admit that there is a city underground” is such a succinct & accurate depiction of living the kind of life society tries to convince itself is impossible. but there truly is a rich genealogy of homeboundedness especially in queer history.

again i hope some of my posts & such are helpful / resonant! wishing you all the best 💓💓