#but i felt the need to make my own validation post

[starlight-bread-blog]

My Interpetation of The Southern Raiders: Part 1 – A\ang

Warning: The views expressed in this analysis will be very critical of Aang. If you aren't critical of him in this episode, you aren't going to enjoy this post. This is your chance to leave. I probably won't have a debate for personal reasons.

——————

The Southern Raiders is probably one of the most discussed episodes in the fandom. Everyone knows Zuko Alone is great, but the discussion surrounding this episode is a war zone. In this essay I will try to answer every question posed in the discourse. This is part 1 out of three. In this part, I will discuss A\ang. I believe that understanding both Zuko and Aang's decisions in this episode will give us great insight into Katara's. Because the this episode is hers.

——————

1. Is Aang's philosophy of forgiveness valid?

(1) "Revenge is like a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you're being poisoned yourself".

(2) "You do have a choice: forgiveness". // "It's easy to do nothing, but it's hard to forgive". // "Forgiveness is the first step you have to take to begin healing".

This philosophy is indeed morally sound. Revenge comes from rage, a negative emotion that causes harm in the long run. Forgiveness is letting go of that rage, which is healing. I cannot write a full thesis, this essay is not about that. But on paper, I do agree with A\ang. He's right to say that letting go of rage is a better alternative than getting consumed by it. (However, his philosophy might not help some).

——————

2. Was A\ang being insensitive when talking to Katara?

First I must reiterate, a lot of people frame the conflict of the episode as one regarding the ethics of murder. In my interpretation, it is not. During this episode Katara was in a deeply emotional place. Her rage stemmed from intense grief and those around her should treat her as a mourner - with great sensitivity.

Now, was Aang being this sensitive with Katara? Well, in my opinion, very much so.

Imagine a scenario where A\ang just happens to meet Haru, and he's about to go on a quest to find revenge on who imprisoned his father. He tries to help him with the following sentences:

(1) Um ... and what exactly do you think this will accomplish?

(2) Wait! Stop! I do understand. You're feeling unbelievable pain and rage. How do you think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people?

(3) I don't think so. I think it's about getting revenge.

(4) Haru, you sound like Jet.

(5) The monks used to say that revenge is like a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you're being poisoned yourself.

(6) Haru, you do have a choice: forgiveness.

(7) No, it's not. It's easy to do nothing, but it's hard to forgive.

(8) You did the right thing. Forgiveness is the first step you have to take to begin healing.

Everything makes sense, right? The pieces fit.He just talks about his cultura\personal values, nothing about what Katara needs at the moment. He could have had this exact conversation with Haru without changing a thing.

Therefore his lines are impersonal and thus preachy. In this conversation he doesn’t show signs of trying to convince Katara not to end her mother’s killer because she is, fundamentally, a good person and couldn’t live having committed murder. He shows signs of trying to make her obey his cultural ethos. This is highly insensitive. Katara was in a very emotional place, filled with rage and grief. And his response was, intentionally or not, to impose his own cultural principles onto her.

But his lines weren’t insensitive just because they were preachy, some of them were judgmental and even harsh. When A\ang is first confronted with Katara’s intentions, he says:

A\ang: Um ... and what exactly do you think this will accomplish?

You can tell from his tone and how the rest of the conversation plays out that he does know what Katara thinks this will accomplish. He asks the question as a form of disapproval - that he thinks that going after Yon Rha won’t accomplish anything. He’s not being genuine, he’s casting judgment on her. He’s almost looking down on her and Zuko, looking down from a moral high ground and sarcastically interrogating the two. Another line that sticks out is

A\ang: Katara, you sound like Jet.

He says she sounds like the man who wanted to flood an entire village full of innocent civilians. He’s insulting her, and greatly so, all the while wanting to keep a moral high ground. This is incredibly rude and condescending.

In the next scene, right after the intense argument concludes, it appears as though A\ang comes around to the journey Katara was about to go through.

A\ang: I wasn't planning to. This is a journey you need to take. You need to face this man.But when you do, please don't choose revenge. Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.

While he’s still discouraging Katara, it’s not outright condescending. But it’s as clear as day that he’d just preferred if she didn’t go on the journey at all. When he sees Zuko and Katara taking Appa to find Yon Rha, he says:

A\ang: So you were just gonna take Appa anyway?

Clearly disapproving of Katara. He doesn’t want her to go on the journey to find inner peace, he wants her to forgive the man who killed her mother right here and right now. He couldn’t change her mind on the subject, so he’ll advise her the next best thing. It is worth noting that in the beginning, before he advises her, he cracks a joke.

A\ang: It's okay, because I forgive you. [Pauses.] That give you any ideas?

Overall, A\ang’s behavior is unsympathetic and callous.Instead of placing his focus on Katara’s wellbeing, he preaches about Air Nomad teachings and goes as far as insulting her. Even when he comes around, it’s not because he realized his mistakes, it’s because he knew he couldn’t change her mind. And then he makes a humorous remark while giving him his supposed new found advice. The answer is: Yes. Aang was very insensitive when talking to Katara.

——————

3. Did A\ang know what Katara needed?

I don’t think he did. A\ang thought Katara needed to forgive Yon Rha, and as we previously established, without going after him. But even if we look at his second advice, she still doesn’t follow it.

A\ang: This is a journey you need to take. You need to face this man. [Katara situates herself on Appa's head.] But when you do, please don't choose revenge. Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.

Katara explicitly didn’t forgive Yon Rha, and yet the whole point of the ending is that she’s in a better place now. No matter what Zuko says, A\ang didn’t know what Katara needed. And considering that his lines in the episode were as impersonal as they were, it isn’t a surprise.

——————

In conclusion, A\ang’s behavior in The Southern Raiders is questionable at best. He might have had pure intentions, and had a good message, but the way he put out the message was degrading and preachy. And in the end, he didn’t know what was the right thing for Katara.

[pellucid-constellations]

Only in Dreams

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: In his dreams, Azriel recounts how he got to his mate.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Some angst, mentions of injuries

a/n: Hi this is my first acotar fic idk what I'm doing. I've been reading them for years so here's a little one for fun <3 I know it's different from my usual but inspiration is a finicky creature :) Also, italics denote flashbacks.

~~

There was very little Azriel wouldn’t do for his mate. 

He had learned that early on. 

In those early days, when the bond had made itself known to only him, there was so much confusion and strife within the shadowsinger. He had known you for decades, admired you from afar, and befriended you under self-made pretenses. You were a light, a healer, too good and sweet to be anything to him other than a friend, a coworker. 

But you were also his mate. 

The air had been knocked from his lungs at the realization. 

“Is everything okay?” you had asked, sweet confusion bunching at your brows. 

And Azriel couldn’t answer, not for several long beats. 

“Az, what’s wrong? You look like Cassian after he took that weird herb Majda wanted me to test.”

Another bout of silence, this time accompanied by soft, warm hands along his cheeks. You leaned in, the sweet scent knocking him out of his stupor. As he jerked back, you only followed, blinking in surprise. 

“Azriel—” 

“I apologize,” he finally—weakly—stammered out. “I was talking with Rhys.” 

“You were talking with Rhys?” 

It hadn’t sounded much like a question, but Azriel nodded anyways, enraptured by you and your closeness. He needed to get away, to leave. You were too close. He was too weak. 

But then you giggled, and the sound was so melodic and saccharine that he found himself breathless again. He could get lost in that sound. If he was being honest with himself, he had gotten lost in that sound plenty of times before. But now… now. Gods, now you were his mate. 

As you laughed some more, teasing retorts echoing in the air, Azriel knew you had no idea. 

And, as Azriel had learned, that was fine. You didn’t need to know. Because he knew, and that was enough. 

Enough for the overwhelming devotion he felt for you to finally have substance. To finally be validated. 

You were his—everything sweet and good was his to protect. And, gods, did he want to protect you. 

You made that very difficult in the weeks after the bond had snapped for him. His instincts were in overdrive, taking note of your every move and praying to the cauldron that you were careful when he was sent on missions and you stayed back in Velaris. He had nothing to worry about when that was the case. The inner circle loved you almost as much as he did. 

But then Rhys decided you were needed. 

With an unreciprocated mating bond and a mate that cared so little for her own self-preservation, that had been Azriel’s worst nightmare. 

“Reconsider.” 

“There is nothing to reconsider, Azriel. We need a healer in Windhaven to show them that the clipping won’t be seen to fruition. And y/n just so happens to be our court healer,” Rhys carefully explained for the third time. 

“Send Majda.” 

Rhys held the bridge of his nose. “There is a reason y/n took over her post. Madja is far too old to be making those kinds of trips.” 

“Send anyone else,” Azriel rasped, a tightness to his words. 

“No. She is the best. It will only be for a few weeks and Cassian—” 

“Rhysand.” 

Rhys paused at the desperation laced within his brother’s tone. He removed the fingers attempting to abate the ache along his temple and observed Azriel’s clenched fists and restless shadows. Rhys’s lips parted in shock, his eyes blinking in quick succession. Something clicked within his gaze.

“Is she…” 

The muscle in Azriel’s jaw quivered. “Just don’t send her there. Please.” 

Rhys raised a hand to run down his jaw. “My gods, Azriel. This is…this is—does she know?” 

“No,” he replied, quick and low. 

“I understand what you’re feeling, but I can’t stop her. You know that, brother.” 

And, unfortunately, Azriel knew that. 

When you set your mind to something—when you knew you were going to help people—that was it. There would be nothing keeping you from helping those in need. Especially the Illyrian women. Azriel was pretty sure you kept a dartboard somewhere in the house with Lord Devlon’s face on it. 

He loved that about you, truly he did. But it also made you reckless.

There were plenty of instances where you burned yourself out from healing. You would come home swaying on your feet or be so depleted you couldn’t even winnow correctly. He could count on two hands the amount of times you passed out at the dinner table after work. When he thought about you doing that in Windhaven… Azriel couldn’t even stomach the thought. 

“Then order her,” Azriel gritted out. He could hear you coming. You and Cassian, bags packed, chatting down the hall about something insignificant. 

Why couldn’t he come, again? 

Right, because he would “stir up the camp” or whatever obtuse reason Rhys had given him. 

“You know that won’t go over well,” Rhys countered. 

“Neither will the entirety of Windhaven if she gets hurt.” 

Azriel’s threat fell on deaf ears as you came bounding into the room, bright and determined and smiling at him as if you weren’t leaving. 

“Here to see us off, Az?” 

That trip to Windhaven had been awful—for Azriel and for you. Rhys’s “ordering” hadn’t been effective, and neither had Cassian’s ability to pick up on context clues. As you stood, baffled at Rhys’s sudden change in plans, Cassian didn’t so much as look at Azriel’s subtle vies for assistance. Because Cassian had been just as baffled as you were. 

So, you went to Windhaven. 

And then you came home hurt. 

Not terribly, just a few cuts and a black eye that rivaled his own from the last time he trained with the Valkyries. 

Cassian explained that there had been a fight unrelated to you, but you had gotten caught up in it. He suspected it was a ploy to get hands on you, but Azriel had stopped listening to him the second you landed on the balcony with stitches on your forehead. The moment he saw your hands bandaged and your eye purple and blue. 

You had laughed about your inability to fight, knocking an injured hand into Cassian’s side as he jested that it was time for you to get into the training ring with him. Later, Azriel would agree with that sentiment. In that moment, however, unparalleled fear had coursed through his veins. Rhys was the only one ready for it. 

Cassian’s back slammed into the far wall of the house, wings splaying out against stone. Azriel’s shadows were gone as he held his brother against the wall, abandoning him in favor of wrapping around your wounds. 

Azriel thought he heard you scream. 

“You said you would protect her!” he seethed, pushing his forearm against Cassian’s throat, blue siphon blazing atop his hand.

“Azriel, stop!” Your call went unheard. Rhys stood ground in front of you, arm jutting out when you tried to get around him. 

Cassian pushed back against him, face twisted in confusion. “I did. I pulled her from that fight as soon as I could, Az. You think—” his words cut off with another shove from his brother “—you think I would have let anything happen to her on purpose?” 

Azriel growled, low and dangerous. “All I think is that my mate came back looking like that when you swore to take care of her. You swore.” 

The room went silent, stagnant. Even the shadows halted their appraisal of you as you held onto Rhys’s arm. Cassian stopped fighting. Somewhere down the hall, the rushed footsteps of some other member of the family abruptly stopped. 

“She’s your mate?” 

“Azriel—” Your whisper was lost in the lingering chaos of the room. 

The time after was a blur for Azriel. He knew he left the balcony, retreating to his room hastily after sending you a longing, apologetic glance. He knew you called after him, that you were breathless and shaking and Rhys kept holding you back… telling you to give him some time to cool off. 

He didn’t need time. He needed you, and Azriel had been positive that would never happen now. 

Half of his shadows joined him in his room, engulfing him as he sat on his bed with his head in his hands. The other half stayed with you, still worried about the pain that you had endured. It was a miracle you hadn’t sent them away. They would have listened to you if you had. They would always listen to you. 

When the door creaked, his shadows covered him even more, encasing his fear and worry and embarrassment into a shell that kept him safe. 

He was a fool. 

“Azriel?” 

He had to be imagining the sweet trill of your voice. There was no way you had come for him, not after all of that. But soon, your shoes slinked into the mess of shadows between his legs, and a bandaged hand gently guided his chin up. 

When he met your eyes, his shadows circled faster. His wings fell lower and lower against the bed, giving himself up to your gaze. 

“Azriel,” you repeated, music within the swish of dark air. “Care to explain, shadowsinger?”

The bruises on your face made his stomach turn. He went to look away, to escape this physical and mental turmoil, but you only locked your wrists and kept him there. 

It took him a moment, but he finally relented. 

“You are my mate,” he spoke, gravely and unsure—even though that was the one thing Azriel was sure of above all else. “You are my mate and you are hurt. I am sorry for my actions… if I scared you or—” 

“I wasn’t asking about the display of male violence on the balcony.” Your teasing smile made some of his shadows rest.

It also made hope swell within the deepest parts of Azriel’s wearied chest. 

You didn’t look forlorn at his offhanded declaration, nor did you look repulsed. You just looked like… you. You looked at him as you always had, and maybe that meant something. 

Maybe that was something for Azriel to hold onto. 

“How long have you known?” you asked, when he spent a moment too long admiring the upturn of your mouth. 

Azriel blinked, moving his eyes back to your own. “A while.” 

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” You didn’t sound accusatory, or even angry as he was sure Feyre had all those years ago. You only sounded sad. That made it worse. 

“I wanted to tell you,” Azriel stressed, leaning forward on the bed to capture your legs between his. “I wanted to, I just—y/n, I just…” 

There was no solid explanation. You didn’t rush him as he stumbled over his words—you were patient, as you always were. You were patient and Azriel was a coward.

Determination set a line in his brow. 

“I was a coward,” he affirmed. “I didn’t want to push you away… to make you feel unsure or pressured. You are… you are everything. You have been everything to me for many years now. If I had ruined that—if I had pushed something upon you that you did not want—” 

“Has it occurred to you, Azriel, that I would very much like to be your mate?” 

Azriel paused his spiel, licking his drying lips as he searched your eyes for the lie. 

“Only when I dream.” 

You had kissed him after that, all bruised and scratched and broken, and Azriel found himself dreaming.

As he stared at you across the sitting room, surrounded by your raucous, disruptive family, Azriel dreamed again. The glow of the fire lit up the side of your face as you laughed, sending warmth up the long-accepted mating bond, and he dreamed of you in every iteration of his life. 

And he would do anything to keep that dream alive.

[writingwithcolor]

Author with cultural disconnect: How do I write without making it seem as if I hate my own heritage?

Anonymous asked:

I’m a white-passing Asian author, and I’ve never felt all that connected with my heritage. My current story centers on a fairy (re: fantasy-world POC) child and ends with her realizing that her parents are toxic af and her human best friend’s family takes her in. This is the perfect opportunity to sort through my own issues with my heritage and finally convince my monkey-brain that it’s okay to not know how to cook Vietnamese food or celebrate tet or speak Vietnamese… But I also realize that if I’m not careful, this could easily slip into “Hey, I hate my heritage and so should you!” So how can I stop that from happening?

Writing for yourself first, not an audience

I ask you a simple question: why put pressure on yourself to have any sort of non-offensive messaging for a story that hasn’t been drafted yet and is to convince your monkey brain it’s okay to exist as yourself?

That seems like the fastest way to stop the story from being actually cathartic and instead a performance art piece when you already feel hung up on performing as “properly” part of your culture.

As I said in Working Through Identity Issues and Other Pitfalls of Representation, not all stories you write need to be for public consumption. Especially stories you’re using for your own self-processing and therapy, because you’re trying to get a cathartic moment that is rewriting your own story.

At what point does the public need to be involved in that?

I do understand the compulsion to want to post—I have definitely posted some Questionable™ material in my drive to get validation for feeling the way I do, wanting people to witness me and say “same.” It’s a powerful urge. Sometimes it’s worked, but most of the time it’s just made me feel horrifically exposed.

But you really do not have to post in public to get any sort of validation. Set up a groupchat with friends if you want the cheerleading and witnessing—people who will know your story and give you good-faith interpretations and won’t accuse you of anything. Honestly I’d suggest setting up this groupchat anyway; as someone who just got one again after quite a few years without it, my productivity has skyrocketed from being around supportive people.

Let the monkey brain have its monkey brain moment and shut off the concept the story is for the public. Shut off the concept of performing for an unknown audience. It’s for you. Be authentic, no matter how bad it would look to outsiders. They’re not reading it. Part of getting catharsis, sometimes, is being the worst version of yourself, somewhere nobody else can see it.

Deciding to publish the work

If, after you do write it, you find that you actually do want to polish it up and put it somewhere… edit it. Rewrite it entirely if that’s what it takes. Take the story through the same drafting process every story needs to go through, ripping out the unfortunate implications as you go.

Editing can be its own form of healing, as you try to figure out what this character would need to not be hateful. As you realize, once this longform journal entry is out of your head, what was bothering you now that you can see it pinned down on a page. But you absolutely do not need to write with the intention of editing in that healing. When I’ve tried, it’s fallen flat.

The healing will come from being yourself, no public involved, and writing about your feelings in their rawest form. Anything else is extra.

There’s no point in trying to put guard rails on the drafting process, not for a deeply personal piece. And by the time that drafting process is done, you’ll likely have specific scenarios and contexts that you can ask about, and you might even have ideas on how to fix it yourself once the story has a shape to it.

This is 100% a situation where there’s no real sense in idea workshopping something in the plotting stage. You’re doing something for you. Decide if it’s for public consumption later (while acknowledging “no” is a perfectly valid answer), and only figure out how to make the story not overtly harmful if you decide to put it out into the public.

~ Leigh

[teaboot]

I hope it's okay that I took a screenshot, cause I felt that this deserved it's own post.

It's a good question, and as someone with a needle phobia myself it's one I have some experience with and feel I can speak on.

It's going to sound stupid, but it's this:

First, keep facing your fear. I personally elected to start donating blood, which sucked ass, but helped me get used to the feeling of having a needle in in safe environment, and celebrating the small victory every time I finished was a good motivator to keep going back.

What I did then was focus on what my body was doing. Was I breathing fast? Tensing up? Sweating? Going cold? Was I shaking? Where? Was it better to fidget, or hold still? Did closing my eyes help? Plugging my ears? I got familiar with my own physical reactions so I could start to separate them from my mental reactions.

Now when I experience a panic response, I'm not just objectively aware that my body is doing it's own thing- I genuinely feel that my body is acting on it's own. I'm stressed, but not SCARED, because my brain doesn't just know that it's safe- it FEELS safe. I'm emotionally strung out and on edge, but I'm not totally losing myself anymore. I can have a conversation while it's happening.

Now, sometimes I can see someone use a syringe for small procedures without flinching and closing off. Not often, but it's miles ahead of where I used to be. I can hold an epipen. I can use safety gear to dispose of abandoned needles outside my work. I don't think I could give myself an injection if I needed to, because I know I still lock up, but the idea of someone else doing one on me isn't viscerally repellant.

So... not cured here yet, but better.

TLDR: Baby steps, keep trying, pay attention to your body, celebrate successes.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Taking steps to confront a phobia has to be a choice. Forcing someone else to confront their phobia when they ARE NOT READY, WILLING, OR PREPARED is incredibly distressing and can make things way worse. And with how completely fucking miserable and exhausting a panic response feels, choosing not to "just confront it" is a totally valid and understandable choice. Like choosing not to run a 100 mile marathon barefoot. If you find yourself tempted to trick or pressure someone into amateur exposure therapy, don't. I'll fucking find you

Again, this is just what's been working for me, but if you wanna try it, I wish you luck! ♡

[soft-girl-musings]

Cry (MK Spring Bingo #1)

Marc Spector x Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: panic/anxiety attacks, possibly inaccurate description of an emergency room visit (i don't remember the exact process i borrowed from my own experience bc i was sick… in the ER…), no use of y/n

wc: 1,356

fic summary: Three times Marc told you it was okay to cry, and one time you returned the favor.

A/N: Finally got around to writing something for someone besides jake lockley, bless. once again this is self-indulgent, but if anything hits home for you i'm glad <3 (based on Adam Melchor's "Cry" , which is the most marc-coded piece of music i've ever heard. in this essay i will)

_____________________

The first time came out of nowhere.

Nothing was wrong per se; no major injury or crisis had come up. All you knew was that you were frozen in the corner of your room, hot tears streaming down your face as your mind raced between a million different things.

“Sweetheart, have you seen my–” Marc’s request stopped the moment he saw you frozen in the darkened room, gripping the sleeves of your shirt as you bit your lip so hard you risked giving yourself another reason to cry.

“I just need a minute,” your voice came out trembling and heavy, as if too many syllables would cause the tears to fall with greater force. Not that you knew how to stop them, or how they even started.

Quick strides across the room brought Marc to your side. His warm hands wrapped around yours, cold and losing color from digging into your arms. 

Words were never his strong suit; Marc’s a man of few, usually letting his presence and actions suffice. So when faced with consoling you against some invisible threat, he could almost hear the sound of his own heart breaking in tandem with your staggered breath.

So he stood there. Until your fingers relaxed and entwined with his, he stood there until he could guide you to the floor. Arms wrapped around your shoulders, he cradled you as you continued to cry.

“This is so stupid,” you groaned as you wiped your face with your sleeve. “So fucking… ugh.”

“Hey,” he shushed you. “Not stupid. You’re feeling what you’re feeling.”

“But I don’t know why,” you choked out. It was hard enough being so distraught; not having a valid reason for it made everything hurt more.

“You don't have to justify it. Don't have to do anything but just… be here.” A hand to your temple eased your head against his chest. “I'm here, as long as you need me to be.”

This was all the permission you needed to let another rush of tears spill down your cheeks, soaking his shirt. He didn't mind.

___________________

The second time was in the emergency room.

You'd never struggled to catch your breath like this before; a common cold turned south and triggered long-dormant childhood asthma, making your lungs betray the rest of your body. Marc drove you to the ER when your hollow coughing didn't let up for the third day in a row. Head spinning and chest aflame, you were rushed to the back as soon as Marc told them you couldn't breathe.

“You've got to breathe steady, honey.”

“I'm trying,” you muttered around the medicated tube in your mouth. It had to be almost 3 in the morning; your body ached like crazy and you didn't catch a word of what the nurse told you to do with your medication. All you knew was that you were cold, exhausted, and grateful to have Marc there to time your breathing.

But even with his hand holding yours, you still felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Every inhalation brought medicine to your airways, but the ragged sensation resonated through your chest and made your body ache more.

“I'm so tired,” you finally said around the device. With that, your tears fell faster than you could swipe at them. Your frown pushed the device from your mouth, but you didn't care.

Marc sprang up, catching the equipment when your grip faltered. He said nothing; instead, he climbed onto the bed with you, leaning your back against his chest and taking your hand in his once more, bringing the medication back to your lips. You let him bear your weight, immediate relief washing over you as he took over keeping the device steady with one hand and gently dabbing a tissue at your cheek with the other. 

“Nothing wrong with a few tears, honey. Means you’re alive.”

When you finally went home, the fire in your lungs extinguished, he held you again until you fell asleep.

_____________________

“.....The movie just started.”

(The third time was on the living room couch.)

You had finally talked Marc into watching La La Land with you (with the promise of his getting to choose the next movie night film, of course). You were barely 30 seconds into the opening number when you'd started crying, eyes glued to the screen as dozens of up-and-comers danced and sang about their dreams to make it in the industry.

“They haven't said anything.”

“They're saying everything.”

“He's dancing on a car.”

“Because he's excited!”

“Why did they stop traffic to dance?”

You didn't hear the rest of his quips, too engrossed in the scene. The colors, the music, and the highly impractical interstate  choreography had a way of getting to you ever since you first saw this movie. Meanwhile, Marc sat with his arms crossed and eyebrows knit together as he tried to follow along.

When you noticed his body language, you reached for the remote and paused the movie. “Do you… want to watch something else?”

Marc's face fell when he realized this new batch of tears wasn’t because of the movie, but because of him. The thought of making your cry hit like a punch to the gut.

He took the remote from you, moving closer to your side. “Nice try, but you're not getting out of it that easily. I need your commentary if I'm gonna keep up.” He hit play and choked down every criticism as he saw your face light up, tears of joy brimming during the remaining 2 hours of the film.

The next morning, while making breakfast, you could have sworn you heard Marc humming Another Day of Sun under his breath.

_____________________

As you'd grown closer, you began to know Marc as your rock, your steady landing place when you had thoughts and feelings too big to deal with on your own. He never had to say much to be there for you. He kept you tethered and together, happy to be of service no matter how ugly your hardships felt. 

It was only a matter of time before you saw a crack in his foundation.

You got home late one night, a thunderstorm hot on your heels. You had shrugged off your coat and shoes, calling out to Marc to see if he was home. No response.

You checked each room diligently, until you found him sitting on the corner of the bed.

“Marc?” You asked softly, walking toward him. You knelt in front of him, and the sight of his face twisted into an unfamiliar expression, a steady stream of tears spilling from his reddened eyes, was more than you could bear.

The first time came out of nowhere.

“Can you give me your hands, Marc?” He complied, his breath short and his eyes fixed on the storm pelting the window with sheet after sheet of rain. His vision darted between drops of water and streaks of lightning. The room shook with the echoes of thunder as the worst of the storm hit.

“Hey,” you urged him. “Just be here. With me.” Your thumb traced his wrist as you tried to stay calm.  “Can you breathe with me, Marc?” You sat up on your knees. He nodded, slowly but surely matching the pace of your breath. 

You didn't know what was on his mind, only that it was racing. You couldn't tell what had him so worked up, only that his breath escaped him even as you counted to ten again, and again, unrelenting in your focus on him. You had no idea what made your rock, your anchor, cry like this.

Maybe he'd tell you later; maybe it'd remain a mystery. None of that mattered in the moment. All that mattered was the rhythm of your breath as the rain let up; the way his tears drenched your sleeves when you dabbed at his flushed cheeks; the steady thrum of his heart as his body relaxed beside yours. All that mattered was how, with your chest pressed to his back as you lay on top of the bedspread, he let you hold him for a change.

_____________________

event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added/taken off this wee tag list)

[traumasurvivors]

Here's a link to a blog post on my personal website on a topic that I think is very important.

I've also put it below the read more for people that don't like external links.

When it comes to healing from trauma, there are a lot of emotions an individual may feel. One of these emotions is anger. Anger is one of the emotions I see invalidated the most. For example, I’ve been told that being angry is “letting the person who hurt me win.” I’ve been told that I’m only hurting myself with my anger and that it’s holding me back from healing. All of these assumptions were wrong.

Anger is often viewed as a bad thing because it can drive a lot of unpleasant behaviours but it can be used for good. While anger can hurt you and others, it doesn’t have to. There is a difference between destructive anger and constructive anger. Destructive anger is often expressed in a way that causes harm to yourself or others whereas constructive anger can be used to better understand your situation and figure out your needs. Constructive anger can be a way to show respect for yourself.

For example, if you’re in a situation with a friend where they do something that makes you angry (for example: cancelling plans, forgetting an important date, etc), constructive anger may involve you stepping away from the situation to figure out the cause of your anger (for example: you feel their actions imply you’re not important to them) so that you can then sit down with your friend and communicate in a calm manner. This may allow your relationship to grow and build with a better understanding of each other. Destructive anger in this situation may involve you yelling at your friend and insulting them, which will likely damage or destroy the relationship. If the hurt your friend has caused makes you want to re-evaluate your friendship, this is valid and there are still constructive ways to end a friendship that will cause the least amount of hurt for all involved. It is also important to note that ignoring the anger and bottling up is likely to cause a bigger blow up down the line or cause “overreactions” to other circumstances.

If anger is bottled up, it can end up coming out unintentionally. You might find you’re getting much angrier at everyday annoyances and disagreements than you might think reasonable. People might push you away or respond badly to your anger, because they feel they do not deserve it - and looking back later, you might feel they don’t deserve it, either. However, because of the anger you’re holding back, you can’t see that in the moment. This is why it is important to think and consider your anger, and listen to what it’s trying to tell you. I have found asking questions of myself to analyze my anger can help, such as in an anger inventory like this one.

While many people see anger as an emotion that causes people to lash out and destroy things, anger can also help to motivate people to create new things. Marches to “Take back the night”, or for “gay pride” have much of their motivation based in anger at injustice and oppression. New laws to better protect survivors of domestic abuse or otherwise help society are often driven by people feeling a huge amount of anger. Properly harnessed, anger can help to take action to change things for the better.

On a more personal level, anger can also be a motivator to improve one’s own life. Many people have used the anger they felt at those who put them down as a motivation toward success. That success might be completing schooling, winning an international athletic competition or publishing a novel. One thing all of those have in common is that they are rarely possible to do with only a little time or a little effort. They are time-consuming tasks which usually require months if not years of work. They can be easy to give up on without motivation - and for many, anger is a big help to keeping that motivation.

It took me years to feel anger. For the first while, I felt ashamed, guilty and like I deserved the abuse I’d endured. Feeling angry at the people responsible for this was a step in my healing. I began putting the blame on those responsible and not myself. I was realizing that I did not deserve to be treated in the harmful ways that I was. This was huge to me as someone that had spent years thinking I deserved my trauma and as a result, future trauma and abuse as well.

There were instances where my anger was destructive, mostly to myself. I engaged in self-harm as a way to vent my anger and it also caused problems in my relationship at the time because I held my anger in and would get really frustrated and project my anger onto my relationship which was not fair to my partner.

Over the years, I’ve learned to cope with my anger more efficiently. What works for someone is largely dependent on them and their needs. For me, it was a literal punching bag to vent out frustrations and journaling. It was sitting down with my anger and treating it like a friend trying to protect me (because it was in a way). It was listening to it and finding the cause. My true anger came from those who hurt me, and in a way, took a part of me. My anger largely came from grief and betrayal. Understanding where it came from did not make it disappear, but it did offer me perspective and allow me to better manage it.

For some, anger is a cover up for other emotions. It becomes a defense mechanism against feeling the sadness, hurt and other emotions that a person does not want to feel. The anger is just the first layer and understanding where that anger comes from, and that the anger is a cover up is a great step in moving beyond it. Feeling the emotions beneath it will play a big part in moving beyond the anger.

Anger is a valid and understandable emotion when it comes to healing from trauma, even if your trauma does not have a specific person to blame (natural disasters and death of a loved one are examples). If the person who hurt you did not mean to or did not know better (like another child), anger is still a valid emotion. You’ve been hurt and you should not have been and it is reasonable to feel angry at this.

For a lot of us, anger plays a part in our healing. And that’s okay! You’re allowed to feel angry. Anger becomes an issue when you allow it to consume you and hurt you or others. The feeling itself is not inherently bad, and it can actually be a good thing. Your anger can be used to help you. It’s what you do with your anger that decides whether it’s helpful to you or not. When I was first told that my anger was “letting the other person win,” I believed that and felt invalidated. I have since realized that my anger has been an important part in understanding my pain and my needs. My anger is not letting someone else win, but letting me win, by helping me to heal.

[harrysfolklore]

grammys night

not my best but i needed to post something for the grammys, congrats for the wins harry ilysm

gif credits to @chriswevans

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Adrenaline and anxiety ran through Harry's veins as he sat on his table, the night had been excellent for him so far, winning the first award they announced and delivering an outstanding performance that he was very proud of despite all.

However, you knew that his nerves were through the roof before the most important moment of the night was coming up. The Album of the Year category.

You had endless conversations with Harry about how he made an amazing album and he didn't need any awards or nominations to validate that he's a great singer and songwriter, and you were still going to be proud of him no matter what, but he still felt pressured and nervous when it came to award shows as prestigious as the Grammys.

"Baby," you quietly spoke, making him look up at you after spending minutes staring into his clammy hands on his lap, "It's going to be okay," you smiled softly grabbing his hand and caressing his knuckles, "Even if you don't win it, you still owned the night and I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," Harry simply said, and pressed his lips to the back of your hand for a moment, "For being here and for everything, really."

"Oh don't mind me, I only came with you because I knew Taylor Swift was going to be here." you joked, and the small laugh he let out made your own never cool down.

"I love you," he stared right into your eyes, as if you were the only ones in the room, "I know I've said it more times that I can count, but none of this would be possible without you."

"I love you too, baby. More than you can imagine."

And despite not being a fan of PDA, he connected your lips with his in a small kiss, a kiss you knew he needed.

"It's show time." you heard Jeff say when the lights went down again and Trevor Noah came on stage to announce the most important award of the night.

Harry's eyes were fixed on your hands holding his own on your lap, his nerves not allowing him to put his gaze anywhere else.

The fans the recording academy invited to talk about the artists nominated for album of the year stood in a line behind Trevor, and you couldn't help but smile tenderly at the old lady that adored Harry just as much as you did.

"And the Grammy goes to..." Trevor spoke into the mic, and when he opened the card and moved to stand in front of Harry's fan, you knew the award was his,

"It's you, baby!" you whisper-yelled into his ear, and he turned his head to give you a confused look.

"What do you-" and before he could even finish his sentence his name was being called out and the trumpets from Music for a Sushi Restaurant filled the place.

He covered his face and shook his head in disbelief, and you could only let small happy tears come out of your eyes.

"Baby! You did it! It's yours!" you said as he stood up in shock and wrapped his arms around you, swaying you for a moment before grabbing your face with both of his hands and placing a firm kiss to your lips, the cameras capturing the moment that you knew would make his fans go insane.

"I love you so much." he pecked your lips one final time before he got on stage with Tyler and Tom.

With his Grammy in hand, Harry stood in front of the mic, "Shit!" he begun, "I mean—shit! Man—um—I’ve been so, so inspired by every artist in this category with me. At a lot of different times in my life I listen to everyone in this category when I’m alone.” he took a breath, "I think on nights like tonight, it’s obviously so important for us to remember that there is no such thing as best in music. I don’t think any of us sit in the studio thinking, making decisions based on what is gonna get us one of these.”

You looked at him in complete awe, you weren't looking at a Harry Styles winning album of the year at the Grammys, you were looking at the love of your life accomplishing one of his biggest dreams.

"I would like to thank my family for always supporting me, my collaborators for creating this record with me," he paused to smile, "And I would love to thank the amazing woman who's here with me tonight, my girlfriend. Thank your being my muse and my biggest supporter, I love you."

And as if it was the first sentence you ever learned, you instantly mouthed an "I love you" back to him, unaware of the cameras catching your reactions.

"This is really, really kind. I'm so grateful. This doesn't happen to people like me very often. Thank you."

After Tyler and Tom took the mic to say their speeches, the three of them were off the stage.

"How do you feel?" he asked you as soon as he approached you, wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

"I'll give you a sappy speech later, right now I just really want to kiss my Grammy winner boyfriend."

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[thisismeracing]

How you get the girl | DR3

― Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x black!plus size!reader ― Warning: mentions of food and alcohol; Mclaren Danny and tooth-rotting fluff. (1.5k words) ― Summary: Yn is tired of going on dates only to realize that the guy she thought was great, was actually terrible. So that’s why when her friend tells her she knows someone who would match perfectly, Yn accepts the blind date. It’s gonna be her last attempt at love, and now Daniel only has one date to prove he’s worth it. (based on this request)

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There are many ways in which one can fall in love. Yn didn't expect it to happen with her on the first date. To be fair, she didn’t expect it to happen to her at all. Being a plus-size black girl she learned to love herself, well aware that the way society portrays beauty wouldn’t always include her. Her shade, shape, and experiences. Which doesn’t mean she was not pretty. Quite the opposite, she knew she was stunning, and no validation was needed for that, yet you can miss it every once in a while. It rejoices your soul to hear how good you look and how smart you are.

But she left it on the second plan, focusing on her work and studies. Things were good, great even, however, her friends knew she deserved someone good. And as it happens, they knew exactly the pair for her.

Daniel was not looking for love either. He liked how things were going, and liked how he was able to focus in a different light this season, however, he missed it. Missed having someone to celebrate post-races with, to cuddle, and to hold him when he felt down. That’s why when Adam and Amina, two of his close friends from a tight group, proposed to set him up on a blind date he accepted. There wasn’t anything to lose, and he liked to follow his own bits of advice about enjoying being naive, enjoying the butterflies.

Even though it was a blind date, it was Danny who set up everything, with the help of his friends, of course. According to them, Yn would like a beach date. So that’s what he aimed for.

And it felt just right when she showed up wearing an orange summer set with a shy, yet bright smile on her face.

Yn didn’t know at the time, but she had just given a whole meaning to the orange color for him.

“You must be Amina’s friend, Daniel, right?” Yn asked, voice being carried by the wind and getting mixed with the sounds of waves crashing behind them.

Daniel nodded watching her curls bounce and her lips stretch in a small smile, “Yeah-Yeah, it’s me.”

“Yn,” they shook hands with a shy smile because even though Daniel was anything but shy, something about that date seemed new to him, like something he never experienced before.

“I hope you like the beach, and pizza. I wanted to go for something private and chill, Amina and Adam agreed, but still, I hope I got this right.”

She smiles, looks at the blanket on the sand, the pizza box, and the wine, then nods, “I love it. It’s exactly what I would go for had I been the one to choose the setting.”

“Really?” There’s a slight hint of disbelief mixed with amusement in his tone, and it makes Yn chuckle.

“Maaaaybe this would tie with a coffee shop date,” she confesses.

“We can do coffee shop for our second date,” Daniel is quick to shoot his shot and Yn arches her brow, she wants to smile again.

“What makes you think we’re having a second date?”

“I’m just manifesting, throwing it to the universe,” he jokes and she can’t help but laugh while they walk side by side to the blanket. “See? I made you laugh, my chances are getting higher, aren’t they?”

“It all depends on the pizza flavor, now.”

“Good thing I got one slice from each, then.”

“You kidding me?”

“No, and I got a whole one of your favorite flavor, well, according to Amina.”

Yn watches in disbelief and Danny sits by her side and sure enough, opens the two boxes of pizza showing her a pizza with different slices and a whole one of her favorite.

“Ok, and that’s how you get the girl. You might have landed a second date, Daniel.”

He smiles brightly and she can’t help but think that he now has a third one too.

“So, aside from having a great taste in pizza, what else should I know about you?” He asks while opening the wine bottle and Yn chews on a bit of food before starting to tell him about herself.

They go back and forth, there’s never the awkward silence, and they realize they have many things in common aside from the two friends that set them up. Yn has no idea he’s a driver and somehow it makes Daniel even more enamored by her. She seems to like him for who he is truly, and not because of a cool side of his that happens to make him famous and rich. It’s warm and fuzzy, and fun, and the symphony of waves crashing down and giggles envelop their afternoon until the sun starts to set and they decide to head home parting with a timid kiss in the corner of their lips.

It’s on the second date when she makes fun of his milk foam mustache and sips her own coffee mirroring his image that Daniel realizes he might be in love. Her dark skin is glowing, and the hair atop her head is like a halo, while she smiles at his camera with a funny face pointing at her mustache. Both unaware there are other people in the small coffee shop.

Daniel can only see Yn.

And Yn can only see Daniel.

At the end of that date, he takes her home and kisses her at her door. It’s soft and warm, and it feels right. It feels perfect. They fit together like two puzzle pieces. His heart racing under her hand, and her face stretching in a smile under his. He gets inside, and they talk and kiss a bit more before he has to leave.

It doesn’t take long for the third date to happen. Just two days, both counting the hours to see each other while frantically texting. It’s a drive-in theater, Yn’s idea. They watch a horror movie while Daniel gets scared by the jumps every time, making Yn laugh. They also share a popcorn pot, fingers shyly caressing the other whenever they touch by accident. When the movie ends and the credits are rolling around, the moon and the gleam from the big screen in front of them casting a distinctive glow on Yn, Daniel is sure he’s in love.

“Hey, so- I have this race next week, would you wanna go with me? I can fly you out on Saturday, or you can go with me and see how everything works from behind the scenes,” he suggests, fingers crossed in the dark praying for her to accept, praying for her not to think he’s being too fast. Maybe he was indeed, but this was all new to him too. He was fast on the track, he was never this fast outside it, never this fast to fall, to want someone, to seek someone, to show off someone. He wanted her by his side.

“Wouldn’t it be like making things official?” Yn asks genuinely curious and Daniel can tell by the way she bites her lips and one of her eyebrows goes up the slightest.

“Yeah, am I going too fast?”

“I mean, you’re a racing driver, I would say it’s your job to go fast, isn’t it?” She jokes and he laughs throwing his head on the headrest.

“Yes, but outside the track, I only wanna go fast like this for you.”

“That was so cheesy.”

“But did you like it?” He grins, and Yn rolls her eyes playfully before her body bends over the dash to capture his lips in a kiss.

“I loved it.”

And so a few days later Yn finds herself on a private plane meeting a bunch of different people and being introduced as his girlfriend, because sure enough, Daniel asked properly when he dropped her home that night. He got her a necklace and everything the next day. She learns that racing and the whole Formula 1 thing is more hectic than it seemed, but still, it’s fun. Amina and Adam watch the Sunday race with her, making fun of the way she can’t help but cheer loudly sometimes and bite her nails.

That was the Sunday Daniel got P1. The same Sunday he ran to her before the podium and kissed her lips in front of everyone, giving her his biggest smile and thanking her for being there, his lucky charm.

That was also the Sunday he said he loved her for the first time while they celebrated in private after the party. Laced in each other's love, gazing into the other’s eye, the certainty of the truth behind his statement.

Their friends were right, they were perfect for each other.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this piece! <3 I wanted to add a huge shout-out to C (my coffee emoji anon on Tumblr) for proofreading this (Ily, C!)

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©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

[akindplace]

I had a hard time growing up. I’ve met people who were bad for me - but were not evil. They were dysfunctional people who did terrible things that marked me in more ways than I’d like to admit. I know this pain has changed me and I’m not even sure it’s for the better. And that made me feel so hopeless about myself for years. But there is one thing that kept me going when I felt like giving up, and that was love.

Being loved changed me as a person, even more so than my trauma. Whenever I see old pictures of me, I feel love for her. Looking at a beautiful sunset knowing most people will see it and think about its magnificence, I feel love for being alive. Loving others and being loved changed me, surely, for the better. And maybe that’s good enough as a life’s purpose. It allows me to have hope.

Love makes me think that everyone can be helped when they are encouraged and validated and seen for who they are. People are capable of doing terrible things with their hatred but also capable of making positive changes when they act with compassion. Love has changed me in so many ways, and it was for the best, though it doesn’t erase the past, it gives me hope for a better future.

And if you don’t have a relationship with anyone in your family, remember that people find families in their friends. And they will love you. And you left a bad romantic relationship and are afraid of never being loved in this way again, don’t give up. Talk to your friends, their love is just as important. Someone else might come around later, and you will feel that romantic love again.

I’m not saying that someone’s love will immediately heal every hurt you ever felt, and that you should look for someone only to fix you, because that’s not a healthy way to be loved. I’m saying that love encourages you to grow, to look inward and see what needs to heal, to look at yourself with a little more kindness, to let go of the past to the best of our abilities. We change when we are loved, often because our loved ones make us feel stable, more confident, and they know how to keep encouraging us when we worry about our own capacities. They nurture the change in us.

While writing this post, the poem “Invitation” by Mary Oliver came to mind: “believe us, they say, / it is a serious thing / just to be alive / on this fresh morning / in the broken world. / I beg of you, / do not walk by / without pausing / to attend to this / rather ridiculous performance. / It could mean something. / It could mean everything. / It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote: / You must change your life.”

[borderlinereminders]

I post a lot about self-soothing and working on needing reassurance. And while it’s important to do, it doesn’t mean that’s how it always has to be.

I try self soothing first. Sometimes with my best friend, I know my feelings at her aren’t her fault. It’s something small that’s triggered insecurity even though I know it’s not rational. And I try to deal with the feelings myself first. But sometimes I can’t. And it’s okay.

In these cases, I usually go to her. I’ll tell her “I know it’s not rational and it’s not your fault. But I’m having feelings about x, y and z”. If possible, I’ll tell her what I’m looking for (like reassurance).

She’s always very happy to offer me that reassurance. She knows that I’ve come so far and worked hard and if she can reassure me, she’s often happy to in order to make it easier for me.

I’m going to share my most recent example under the read more for a real life example of how I applied this.

But my overall point is that it is absolutely okay to ask for reassurance and sometimes you need to. It’s just important to do it in a healthy way.

A few weeks ago, she was overwhelmed and busy. I offered to watch her dog for her while she was working. I didn’t get a response back because she was thinking about it.

And then I found out someone else was watching her dog.

I felt a lot of confusing emotions. I felt angry. I also felt insecure, like she didn’t trust me. I was frustrated at her and the person now watching her dog. I felt jealous.

I used skills to try and cope with these feelings. I didn’t lash out at her. I tried using logic to suggest alternatives to myself. Perhaps it wasn’t personal that she picked someone else. Maybe it was for logistical reasons. It was probably just easier for her.

I tried to sleep on it, but the feelings were growing. No matter what coping skills I used. Sometimes, the coping skills don’t work to self soothe or talk myself through it.

I was feeling annoyed for small things and I knew that it wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t done something wrong. But I decided to talk to her about it. I didn’t want the feelings growing and causing issues and they weren’t going to sort themselves out.

Here are copy and pastes from our actual conversation :

Me: My explanation for feeling hurt is that **** told me she was taking Storm and I felt hurt because I offered twice and you didn’t respond at all to it. It made me feel like I did something wrong to break your trust. I am really emotionally sensitive right now and I know I’m having an *extremely* heightened emotional reaction to it but I can’t seem to let go of the bad feelings. And I know it’s not your fault. But also it just feels bad and I feel like I need to tell you about these feelings because I can’t let them go on my own. I could really use some reassurance.

Her: That’s so valid.

If context helps you feel less BPD, I was actually trying to figure whether to leave Storm at home or bring her to you but I needed to know my new start time at work with the new schedule before I’d know if I could make the timing work to drop her off with you after the ferry.

Then *** was sad about the breakup with *** and I offered to lend her Storm as an emotional support animal. I know she really struggles with being alone when she is sad. And I decided I could do without my dog temporarily. I can see how it would’ve seemed like I preferred having **** watch Storm.

But your BPD is very valid, I probably would’ve felt the same way under the circumstances. I hope you have a great day and I hope you know I love you. Also that I think you’re great with dogs and would have 100% wanted you to watch Storm this week.

-

( The name of the person watching her dog are blacked out for privacy reasons.) While she didn’t need to share the context, she chose to do that so she could better offer reassurance. I also want to point out that she validated my feelings. My emotional reaction was heightened but she still validated me. She also then offered reassurance for my specific concern (that I wasn’t trusted). She was patient and understanding. I was valid to need reassurance but her reaction to it was super valid and why it felt so safe to seek reassurance from her.

[onlymingyus]

Hallmark Moment: Daddy's Day

pairing; kim mingyu x f reader

genre; fluff, slightly suggestive

warnings; dad!mingyu, mom!reader, kids, mention of reader's mom, slightly suggestive conversation at the end, pregnancy

w/c; 1.7k and some change 

requested; no

hallmark moment ONE (fluff) & TWO (fluff/smut)

a/n; this is probably the last of the hallmark moment series. i just needed to write something sweet and happy. i wasn't planning on posting anything or writing anything but i needed it. i hope you enjoy it. the header was clearly the inspiration, but the cake of course has nothing to do with the story so just work with me here.

A small, exaggerated gasp escapes the young girl’s lips as she rolls over the couch with a toy foam sword in hand. Amy laughs as she bounces off the cushion finding it only slightly difficult to get to her feet so she can point her sword in the direction of where she and Mina had deemed the evil wizard was. 

“Back, back I say! You’ll never take our daddy from us.” 

Mingyu grins to himself, reaching up to adjust the plastic crown that Mina had placed there a few minutes before. The ring on his pinky just barely fit on his finger to his first knuckle but it seemed to make both his daughters happy. He had let them put on both earrings and the necklace without any sighs of a fuss.

Days like this were Mingyu’s favorites. It had been just over six months since the adoptions had been finalized making Mina his, and Amy yours. Days like these reminded him how important that had been to you both when you had spoken your wedding vows not only to each other but to each of the girls just over a year ago. 

With a laugh, Mingyu reaches out to catch Mina when she steps back stumbling over the rug in her valiant battle with the unseen wizard. The small girl grins from ear to ear, melting his heart as he helps her back to her feet so she can continue her task. 

Instead of a sword, Mina had chosen to brandish the magic wand that had come in the princess dress-up package that Mingyu was now wearing most of. With a flick of her wrist, Mina points with the silver and blue wand dramatically. 

“Your magic is no match for mine. I’m the best, right Daddy?” 

Soft, beautiful eyes that were the same shade as yours look to Mingyu for validation. There was no way he couldn’t respond properly. 

“Oh, absolutely sweetheart. You are the best I have ever seen with magic.” 

Amy giggles at her dad’s words, her sword slicing through the air with more flex than necessary. The sword was showing its age but she didn’t seem to mind, just simply enjoying her time playing. 

“And what about me?” 

Mingyu smiles brightly matching Amy’s smile. Shaking his head, Mingyu takes in a deep breath extending his arms out towards the girls with the same dramatic acting they had been using the entire afternoon. 

“I’ve never felt safer knowing you and your sword is in front of me Knight Amy of the House of Kim.” 

With seemingly renewed confidence both girls charge at the imaginary evil wizard as Mingyu watches with amusement in his eyes. It’s only when the girls cheer at their own victory does he join in clutching at his chest at how they had saved him and his kingdom. 

“I knew I could count on my brave protectors. Once again my kingdom is safe.” 

Mingyu laughs when both girls run over to him to pounce on him smothering him with hugs. His arms wrap around them letting them curl into his form so they can already begin to gossip amongst themselves about how well they did. Taking the wand from Mina’s hand, Mingyu sits it on the couch behind him only to do the same with the foam sword. 

Moving into the living room as silently as possible, you can’t help but smile at the sight in front of you. Your eyes move with the movement of Mingyu’s fingers pushing through both of the girl’s hair as they babble excitedly about some kingdom, wizards, and a princess. With your hand resting on your lower back you move into the room catching Mingyu’s attention first granting yourself his bright smile. 

“Hey, beautiful.” 

At his words, both of your daughters spring into action clambering from your husband’s side to move to hug you as best they can. Your own smile seems to warm the room making Mingyu take in a deeper breath as if he could inhale the happiness and keep it forever. Neither of you would get tired of his, seeing each other with the girls, seeing them happy like this. 

“Hi, Mommy!” 

“Mommy, oh my gosh. We saved Daddy from a wizard. We saved the entire kingdom!” 

Your sweet laugh causes Mingyu’s smile to move toward his eyes. You were so attentive, he watches as Amy and Mina lead you to the armchair helping you to sit down so they can start to recount the entire story. How Princess Daddy was trapped in his tower by the evil wizard and Knight Amy and Sorcerer Mina found him and took care of the evil. 

Glancing at Mingyu, you simply bite at your lips giving him a good once over with his crown, Mina’s wand now between his fingers as he lets his hand hang over his knee. He was the best father for your children that you could have ever asked for. The thought of him like this was enough to make you feel warm and for your heart to beat faster. 

“I am so glad you saved Princess Daddy. I love him very much and would have been so very sad if something had happened to him, but look how lucky I am that I have you two to keep him safe even when I am away. I love you both.” 

You watch as both girls seem to swell with pride at your words feeling like they are on top of the world at making you happy and keeping the house safe while you had your evening away from the house. Leaning to press a kiss to each of their cheeks you laugh against Mina’s skin when you hear her try to hide a yawn. 

“Being a hero is very hard work. I think it’s time for bed.” 

Mingyu watches you for a moment, your hand moving to the arm of your chair as you start to try to stand only for him to move more quickly.

“Please, let me put my brave heroes to bed tonight. Say goodnight to Mommy.” 

Letting out a relieved breath you smile up at Mingyu who winks at you before you have both girls draped over you. Your arms wrapped around them you give them more kisses whispering how much you love them and for them to sleep well. 

Mingyu glances back at you mouthing that he will be back soon, his hands gently guiding both girls toward their room and finally into their beds. Leaning down over Mina’s bed, Mingyu presses a kiss to her forehead making her smile. 

“Goodnight sweetheart. I love you.” 

Mina wiggles further down into her covers, her small hand reaching up to caress her dad’s cheek making the man lean into the gentle touch. It still amazed Mingyu how much someone so small could make him melt so easily. 

Reaching up, Mingyu removes the crown from his head placing it on top of the girl’s head smiling at the sound of her laugh. Moving his eyes and then his feet towards the other twin bed, Mingyu takes Amy’s hand into his own lifting it to his lips to press a kiss to each small finger before grinning at hearing another sweet laugh. 

“I love you, Daddy. I’m really glad we saved you.” 

And I love you too. You can save me anytime, but you know I’d do the same for you, right?” 

Amy smiles tiredly, her eyes beginning to close as she nods causing Mingyu to laugh softly. Slipping the ring from his pinky he puts it onto her index finger before leaning to press a kiss to his daughter’s cheek. His words whispered against her skin making her smile as she drifts off to sleep. 

“Goodnight, angel.” 

Mingyu only lingers in the room for a moment, his eyes moving from one bed to the other. He wanted to make sure both of his daughters were safe and comfortable. Soft happy sighs and snores told him that they were and that it was okay for him to pull the door shut and return to you. 

Seeing you still sitting in the chair, your left hand moving slowly over the swell of your stomach causes Mingyu to stop in the archway. He wished he had his camera handy. He wanted to capture little moments like this forever. 

Swallowing hard, Mingyu takes a step causing the floorboards the creak drawing your attention and making you smile when you see him reaching up to take off the last of the jewelry the girls had placed on him earlier. He only stops long enough to drop them onto the couch before moving next to you leaning down to press a soft lingering kiss to your soft lips that seem to make you lose your breath. 

“I missed you, but I hope you had a good evening with your mom. You deserved a break, baby.” 

His words were spoken against your lips, making you smile once again. Your fingernails gently scratch over the nightly stubble at his jaw causing Mingyu to grunt as he pulls away to look at you. Moving to stand in front of you, Mingyu lowers himself to sit on his heels so he is more level with your still-growing belly as your eyes move over his face. 

“I missed you too, and the girls. I’m glad you had fun with them, but I did need it.” 

The last of your words come out as a small laugh when you feel Mingyu’s hand run over your stomach, tickling you even slightly. A small whispered apology slips from his lips before your husband leans to kiss your stomach and rest his chin against it lightly to look up at you. 

Your fingers run through his hair gently, you tilt your head to look at him lovingly. You loved moments like this. You loved how much he clearly loved you and your family. How much, Mingyu loved the little boy the two of you had made together now growing inside of you. Shaking your head, you smile running your fingers along the side of Mingyu’s face and feeling him lean into your touch before he speaks. 

“Let me run you bath?” 

Nodding, you bite your bottom lip as Mingyu turns his head to press a kiss to your palm. 

“Only if you join me.” 

Mingyu smiles against your hand before nodding in agreement. 

“I’d love to, beautiful.” 

please note that I am doing my best to tag -- tags are now down in reblogs -- all of you who have filled out the tag list form but tumblr won’t let me tag some of you. I think that is because either you have tags turned off or possibly a blank tumblr page. consider reblogging some of the fics you like from me or other writers. ♥

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed. 

[kuzcos-poision]

Just my thoughts and stuff on the watcher situation. And update. Ramblings.

Watcher did something bad. all three of them made the decision. They have now dealt with and responded to the backlash regarding this decision.

The backlash was justified. People aren’t saying they shouldn’t be paid. We all believe they should be paid fairly. They should also learn how to run a business and spend wisely especially in this time where money is sparse.

It wasn’t bullying as people have said. Sure there was some but the majority of the things said about this was genuinely criticism regarding their decision and regarding how people felt like they weren’t valued as fans in any capacity because this was done without consultation and consideration for the fans.

The backlash was also valid in that they hyped it up and announced new hires and a new show displaying expensive food and frivolous spending on food that a majority of their audience isn’t able to afford in the first place. This is where I believe people brought up that they don’t want to just pay for Steven to eat “$1000 burgers” is because that was the last thing they had posted about doing which doesn’t appeal to a majority of the audience.

They are definitely more disconnected from their audience then we had previously believed which is now very apparent. While I believe they should be able to create what they desire on their own platform I think they also need to take in consideration what their audience wants.

I think this was also a bad decision because they lost a considerable amount of viewers when they went to watcher in the first place they thought putting up a paywall would be good way to make their audience larger and happy.

The update they provided was good in that they addressed most of the concerns the audience was expressing however people feel betrayed over this and some won’t gain that trust back with them.

As for the Steven lim hate. I think he was/is just not as connected to the audience as Ryan and Shane were within the content created. A good example of this is the live shows. It’s Ryan and Shane and Steven isn’t a big part of it. The banter between the three of them is fun however a lot of people are after the bfu banter. It’s like the Ryan and shane show with a side of Steven. Which is a big reason as to him getting a lot of blame through this. As well as the public display of what appeared to be the morals that shane specifically abided by which are very different then what was shown with the making and execution of this decision. The opposing morals are what I believe made people weary in blaming all three of them in this. However it was a decision made by all of them. And now dealt with by all of them.

They ALL deserved the criticism and backlash for this decision and I’m glad they have addressed this and made the changes to their decision. They have lost trust and still need to reevaluate spending within production costs but I’m glad they dealt with the content distribution aspect of this issue.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 14

WIP Wednesday is happening this week! I would've had it up an hour or two ago, but I ended up having to run an emergency errand for my mom to keep her friend's car from being towed. But it's all been taken care of!

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Note: Anyone who still doesn't know which episode I'm basing this arc on should know by the end of this segment. I did realize I made a mistake, though. The invading ghosts are Walker's guards. In the episode, up to this point the trio never refer to them as such. The audience, however, sees Walker send them in. I took that as Danny and co didn't realize they were Walker's people. But as I was going through minute-by-minute while writing, Danny does call them Walker's goons. So he knew the entire time. I'm adjusting that going forward and I'll retroactively make the edits before posting to AO3.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.7k

-----

Everyone left Sam’s house at the same time. The Amity crowd had to get to school and no one felt comfortable staying at Sam’s house while she wasn’t home. As they ate a quick breakfast, Tim noticed Conner’s fingernails were painted.

“Looks good, Kon,” he commented.

“Thanks,” said Sam. “I did them last night while you and Danny were sleeping. Introduced him to actual music, too.”

Conner grinned. “She’s promised to burn me some CDs before we go.”

“A mixed tape is the only valid way to share music,” Sam agreed. “And if he’s gonna rock the punk look, he should know the punk culture, too.”

Tim laughed. “Well, looks like we know what we’ll be listening to on the way home. Will you need a CD player, Kon?”

“Is my laptop not good enough?”

Tim clicked his tongue. “Come to Gotham with me. I know I have an old one lying around. Nothing like listening to a CD while lying somewhere, wired headphones tangling up as you shift position. If you want the authentic experience, that’s the only way to go.”

Conner shrugged, clearly unsure. “If you say so.”

Danny yawned. “You’re giving him Dumpty Humpty, right?”

Sam snorted. “Am I giving him Dumpty Humpty? Who do you think I am? Of course I am!”

“Good. You can’t introduce someone to good music and leave out Dumpty Humpty.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, you’ve gotten me into them. They’re fun. You’ll like them, Kon.”

“You played a song or two by them last night, right?” Conner asked.

Cassie nodded. “Yep. That’s who she was playing when Tucker, Bart, and I left to get some sleep in the other room.”

“Ah, yeah. That’s right. I liked them.”

“Of course you did,” said Sam as she flicked her hair. “I have excellent taste.”

Tucker was typing away on his PDA. “So what’ll you be doing while we’re in school?”

Tim grimaced. “I was thinking of hitting up the local library. We want to learn more about the ghosts. But also B has said that a condition of allowing me to extend my trip is that I keep up with my own schoolwork. So I have some catch up to do.”

Danny waved his spoon at him. “And you get on me for not doing my work.”

“Yeah, but you want to graduate and, like, go to college and shit. The stuff I want to do doesn’t require a diploma of any kind. B’s just making me do it because he society has convinced him it’s important.”

Tucker’s PDA alarm went off. “And that alarm means if we’re not out the door in five minutes, we’re gonna be late.”

Everyone groaned as they pushed away from the table and collected their belongings. The walk into town was filled with music discussion. Bart and Conner mostly listened and took note of recommended bands and musicians. Sam tended to know the most obscure stuff, but Tim knew some foreign bands from his time in Europe that no one else had heard of.

The walk was, thankfully, not disturbed by ghosts, but Danny’s ghost sense did go off several times.

“Didn’t your parents make a device that can track ghosts?” asked Tim the third time he complained. “Would that help you locate them?”

Danny hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe, I’ll have to see if I can find it. My parents stopped using it when it kept zeroing in on me. It was too loud for stealth use, though, and loudly went off anytime I was in range. And it didn’t work great for a 3D environment. So Tucker and I would have to develop a new display that can tell me if one is above or below me.”

“I should be able to help, too. You know how good I am with computers.”

“If I can find the device or blueprints, I’ll take you up on that.”

Not long after, they had to say goodbye at the entrance to Caspar High. Dash and his friends also arrived at about the same time. The group stared at Danny, but didn’t move to interact.

“Think they’re still overshadowed?” asked Conner, mirroring Tim’s thoughts.

“God, I hope not,” said Danny.

“But knowing our luck…” Sam trailed off.

Tim sighed. “Keep your distance as much as possible.”

“I know, mom.” Danny rolled his eyes. The school bell rang and he adjusted his backpack strap. “Gotta go. Have fun at the library.” His sarcasm was very evident and he hugged Tim.

The gesture surprised him and his return hug was slightly delayed. “I think I’ll find more than enough to amuse me there.”

With a quick goodbye, the trio rushed off before they could be late.

“So,” said Cassie, “Sam and Tucker seem to have a ton of ideas about you and Danny.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Danny and I only met in person less than forty-eight hours ago.”

Bart nudged him. “And yet you’re already sleeping in the same bed and giving each other goodbye hugs.”

“I do the same with you guys.” He pulled out his phone to check the location of the library. “Come on, let’s just get to the library. I want to see if they have a digital subscription to the local paper we can use.”

Tim didn’t get much schoolwork done that morning, but he did find out Danny was originally named Inviso-Bill by the press and immediately began planning ways to prank him with that knowledge.

For the rest, he compared what was reported vs what had actually happened with past ghost attacks. One thing was clear, Danny needed much better PR. Hopefully being seen working with the Young Justice would help. And maybe Sam would actually listen if he tried to give pointers on how to manage public perception.

Shortly after noon and before Tim could even pretend he was about to switch over to school work, his phone rang.

“Hey, Danny. What’s up?”

“Tim! Do any of you speak Esperanto?”

“Uh… I don’t. Let me ask Bart.” He lowered the phone to ask.

“Esperanto? What’s that?” asked Bart.

“I’ll explain later,” said Tim. Back into the phone, he added, “Doesn’t look like it. Why? What’s going on?”

“So… You remember that wolf ghost with the collar? Walker’s goons are after him, too. I’m not sure why since he only speaks Esperanto. I got him away from both them and my parents. Think you can keep him safe until school is out? If I miss any more class I’ll be grounded until graduation. Senior graduation.”

Tim gestured to his friends to pack everything up. “Yeah, sure. Where are you right now? I’ll have Bart meet you first and the rest of us will follow.”

Danny gave him directions to a forested area behind the school which Tim relayed to Bart. As soon as the group was out of the library, Bart rushed ahead to Danny.

Over the phone, Danny let him know Bart had arrived. “Oh, and Tucker just got here, too. Excellent. He can speak Esperanto as well. Looks like he’s explaining things to big and hairy over here.”

“Great. We’ll be there soon as we can.”

“Can we fly there?” asked Conner.

Cassie nodded. “People would just think we’re more ghosts.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Superboy and Wonder Girl were seen in town just last night. No.”

Conner stuck his tongue out at him. “Spoilsport.”

“Relax. It’s not far. GPS has us in the general location in, like, ten minutes.”

“Fine, fine,” sighed Cassie. “We’ll be good.”

Tim elbowed her with a grin. “Now, I never said you had to do that.”

Conner laughed. “So, what is this Esperanto language, anyway? I haven’t heard of it.”

“It’s a conlang based on European languages that’s supposed to be easy to learn. The idea was to make a sort of common language for Earth without promoting a single language like English. It hasn’t gained a lot of traction, though. And if Bart doesn’t know it, then it likely won’t.”

“Huh, weird. Why do you think a werewolf ghost know an Earth-based conlang?”

“Oooh! I bet it’s because he’s the manifestation of some teenage girl’s OC,” offered Cassie.

Tim laughed. “Or maybe the OC of one of the people to create Esperanto.”

Conner shook his head. “You’ve got this all wrong. He’s from an alternate future where Esperanto did take off and a werewolf virus spread among humans.”

The ten minute walk was filled with more and more outlandish theories ending with the wolf being the reincarnation of Jesus who was trying to bring humanity together through the reinstitution of a common language like in the pre-Tower-of-Babel days.

At the edge of the woods, Tim nudged Conner. “Can you hear where they are?”

“Yep. Follow me.”

And then it was less than two minutes before Tim could see them. “Oi! Danny!” he called out with a wave.

Danny flew over to them and hugged him. “Thank you so much! You’re gonna save me so many detentions.” He grabbed Tim’s hand and pulled him towards Tucker and the ghost. “Tim, this is Wulf. Wulf,” Danny said while making eye contact, “Friends.” Then he slowly pointed to each person and said their name.

Tucker rolled his eyes and repeated the information in Esperanto. Tim recognized his and his teammates names and many of the words felt familiar. Likely since he knew or was learning a few European languages.

“So, will we just hang out here for the next few hours until you get out of school?” asked Tim.

“Yeah. It’ll only be about two and a half hours. That okay? Then we’ll go back to Sam’s place. We can hide in her basement.”

“We’ve hung out in worse places for longer,” said Bart. “This is practically cozy. And me or one of the others can run into town for food and supplies. Anything you want from your parent’s place? Food? Snacks?”

Tucker grinned. “If you could get some jerky, that’d be great. No meat at Sam’s.”

Danny laughed. “If we think of anything else, one of us will text it to the group chat.”

An alarm buzzed on Tucker’s PDA. “We’ve got to get back now.”

“Shit. Okay. I’ll fly us back. Bye Tim, everyone!” Danny picked up Tucker and flew away, turning invisible before he was more than a few yards away.

-----

Next

So, more banter and more plot! We're almost starting to get somewhere! This marks roughly the halfway point of the episode. And the arc is almost 25k words. This is why I take forever to publish anything. It always spirals out of my control. Even this section, I originally opened with them in the library. But then I remembered I wanted to have Sam paint Conner's nails and that led to me adding over 900 words to the beginning.

I no longer do tag lists for this fic, but if you make your way to the subscription post, you can set it up so you get notified when this updates.

[triassictriserratops]

checking in to say I’m such a sucker for Katniss and Peeta discussing their mommy issues once they’re together again. I once saw a post pointing out that they’re the only ones in the series with that kind of trauma and it made so much sense to me why they easily bonded with each other. Just imagine them finally being able to discuss how unsafe they felt even before the games and realize that they have someone in their family who understands that problem and doesn’t make it feel that way. Katniss and Peeta have always been tender with each other but I fear it only gets worse the more they share and get close

we joke a lot about how THG is what Katniss would write about her experiences in the games and war. (Explaining her, frankly, INSANE odes to Peeta's eyelashes.) but also? we're sleeping on the idea that Katniss writes a book absolutely trashing Peeta's mom. It's gonna be a fucking BESTSELLER. I actually have an advanced reader copy, here, lemme show you:

(Note, i spent like 4 hours making this absolutely garbage fucking cover, please validate me. My feelings gland needs this.) I also have this idea that while Katniss does come to understand her mother better by the end of the book - a relationship, a GOOD relationship, with the two of them - it's just going to take time. In that time, maybe Peeta helps to bridge the gap. He does weekly check-ins with Katniss' mom. Telling her how Katniss is doing but also answering her questions about how HE'S doing. And he realizes how...nice it is for a mom to want to know how his day was or be proud of his accomplishments. It's not a replacement for what he should have had, but it's nicer than what he ever got. His relationship with his family is gone. That's it. There will never be any hope of it ever getting better. But Katniss DOES have her mom and he wants to help them. And, from the conversations and tears they've shared about this, he knows she wants it too. So he starts by suggesting that Katniss' mom go through her own therapy to be able to come to terms with her grief and the consequences of what that grief did to her relationships with her living family. He puts her in touch with Dr. Aurelius who gives him a referral to someone in 4 that works in grief and family counseling. And it's not easy. Not by any means. Not for anyone. But in time, years, decades - the bonds of family are strengthened. They're never perfect, you can't fix the past, of course. But the pains are acknowledged on both sides. Their new relationship is hard-earned and exactly what they both need of each other. 15 years down the line, Mrs. Everdeen gets to push the hair out of her daughters eyes while she delivers her first grandbaby. She gets to watch her baby look in awe, and wonderment at her own baby. She gets to watch her family grow a little bigger and a little stronger. Later, when Peeta makes sure both Katniss and baby are safe and sleeping, he goes over to Mrs. Everdeen and hugs her tightly. "Thanks for being here for us, Ma."

[yzy-dragon]

I absolutely ADORED S2E9 "Three Stories" of Link Click and was a bit surprised to see the discontent here on Tumblr, and I totally understand the reasons why people didn't like it, especially in the context of the pacing of the rest of S2 (which I also have some opinions on but I won't talk about that here), but I also felt the need to just get my heart out why I love it so much. A bit of background, I'm Chinese American but have lived in and visited China numerous times.

Music and theater. As a western classical musician and an amateur Chinese opera singer enthusiast (I saw someone else post about the possible inspo this episode got from Chinese opera), I VIBED with the artistic direction of this episode SO much. The three-part structure was almost like a sonata/symphony (and remember that one scene where Qian Jin was air-conducting in a previous episode!!) or scene changes in a Chinese opera. Nothing needs to be said about the animation style that hasn't been said already, but I like how scenes from the three individual "stories" were interwoven and reused like leitmotifs. Especially that crazy, tortured laughter. Idk if any of the parallels were intentional on the part of the director, but it's what I got from it due to my personal experiences. I know that's a highly subjective takeaway though, which brings me to my next point....

Qian Jin's "tragic" backstory. I know a lot of people were upset that the extent of Qian Jin's tragic backstory was "oh his wife cheated on him", but I think the "basicness" of his struggles was the whole point (by the way, this segment displayed various attitudes towards work, family, marriage, individual pride, and life in mainland China so subtly but so well!). I also don't think sympathy was the main thing we were supposed to feel for him, although of course there is some. The whole "tragicomedy" aspect of Qian Jin's story is that it's not some horrible, terrible, rare thing that happened to him, but a common problem faced by so many hardworking but busy married men trying to provide for their families: infidelity. But Qian Jin sees himself as the main character of an elaborate play that rivals the great dramatic classics (which, funnily enough, often depicted very DRAMATIZED versions of a rather basic series of events). And his viewpoint is validated when....

Qian Jin meets the twins. That segment is still largely from Qian Jin's perspective, because we still don't really know how LTC and LTX even feel about him. But for Qian Jin, it's a stroke of fate and fortune that could only possibly happen in theater. He's very far removed from reality at this point. Reality is that a cop whose job it is to investigate violent crime comes across two kids who are the victims of a violent crime. Again, nothing particularly special or even coincidential. It's comical like that.

The fairy tale section.  Unlike the first two, I think this segment is from Xixi’s perspective, which not only justifies the cartoony artstyle but also makes it heartbreaking, due to her childlike innocence.  Like Qian Jin, she also perceives her reality as something it’s not, but unlike him, she doesn’t have delusions of grandeur of being a tragic protagonist.  It’s just a little fox trying to survive in a forest full of predators and hunters.  

All that tortured laughter. I’ve actually noticed in a lot of Chinese media that they like to use laughter as a way of signifying a person’s complete mental breakdown due to the tragedies they’ve suffered.  It’s a very internal thing that has people on the outside going, “WTF?”  In this episode we have a lot of characters crazily laughing together at the same time and it seems like they’re relating to each other, but in reality they’re all trapped in their own nightmarish hells and motivated by selfish purposes. 

Back to the topic of Qian Jin, even though he (innaccurately) may see himself as the hero of his own story, it's not enough for him. He wants to use Cheng Xiaoshi to change the past. He wants to become the director of the play.

I know a lot of people were disappointed this episode didn't advance the plot, especially in regard to Cheng Xioashi and Lu Guang's storylines, but I was actually prepared for a backstory episode and couldn't have been more satisfied. Again, I have other opinions on the rest of S2 but at least standalone, I think this episode was nearly perfect. And I really wasn't expecting this, but it's really elevated Qian Jin to one of my top characters.

[hartlesshart]

I have something to say - If you aren’t going to read the whole thing, then skip it. But I really hope you do. My intention is not to cause drama. I just felt this was important to say because I love this community and I want it to be the best it can be.

A few days ago, a very unfortunate thing happened on a certain post about Talanah and Seyka. I called someone out on what was a case of weaponizing a racist incident. Instead of having a meaningful discussion, my comments were deleted and called “inappropriate accusations.”

Long story short - several reblogged and commented on this post about how Talanah was constantly being tagged as Seyka. To be clear, this is not a good thing and I believe every single one of those post to be valid in their frustration. But I have also seen it happen the other way around to my own work (Seyka tagged as Talanah). None of this is okay but while it is exhausting, remember that mistakes do happen.

So I made a comment about my experience and my comment was dismissed because apparently it “hadn’t been seen.” I responded to this with an honest truth of how dismissals of experience affects people like me.

The thing about racism is that it doesn’t happen in a vacuum. You don’t get to pick and choose who it happens to just to fit your narrative. Dismissing it because you didn’t personally see it is harmful, especially to fans from marginalized groups who may not feel comfortable sharing their experiences in the future.

My comment was deleted and later referred to as an “inappropriate accusation” and “harassment.” Was it an accusation? Yes. Was it inappropriate? No. Was it harassment? Absolutely not - I took time to respond so it wouldn’t be seen that way. However, the comments involving Talanah mistags were kept. The comments defending a fictional character. To be clear, I am not saying these comments are not justified. It is incredibly frustrating to work so hard on a piece only for it to be tagged as another character. However, the fact other comments (including my personal experience), that challenged the narrative that these mistaggings were only happening to Talanah, were being deleted is problematic and a form of silencing. Intentional or not - this is a racist microaggression - and yes, I do deal with stuff like this in real life.

It became immediately clear to me that the goal here wasn’t to raise awareness or do anything about the racist misnaming but instead use it to put down a group in this community. And judging a whole group by the actions of a few bad apples is literally where prejudice begins. All of this pettiness stemming from - let’s face it - an unnecessary shipping war in a FICTIONAL STORY. I was incredibly disappointed and saddened because I know we are better than this.

I am not speaking out because I want to cause drama. Undoing systemic racism is something I am deeply passionate about because it affects so many people in my life. If someone calls you out on a problematic take, please take a moment to listen and reflect, even if it makes you uncomfortable. Do not follow the impulse to block or delete. This work is extremely exhausting for everyone, but it is SO important. We all carry prejudices and biases. We are human. But we can also learn because we are all human. I have been called out many times in life by my friends. I have made so many ignorant comments and mistakes. And I will still make them. Hearing I have is not easy at all but it is all part of growing.

Speaking out like this isn’t really my thing but I felt the need to make a comment that can’t be deleted by anyone. I love the Horizon community and I want it to be a safe and inclusive space for everyone no matter where you are from. That is what these games are about. Understanding people from different backgrounds, opinions and traditions in order to work together. 

You don’t have to be fans of the same characters. You can love or be disappointed with the canon. You can respectfully give and listen to critiques of these characters. And you can celebrate representation even if it’s not the direction you wanted Horizon to go in.

Whatever these games have given you is yours to keep.

Just don’t be an asshole about it (at least in public, what you do in private is none of anyone’s business so…) -> that goes to all fans in all groups. It is never okay to harass or hurt anyone - and especially over fictional characters.

(Also please respect the devs - we are lucky they are able to pour their hearts into this game for all of us to enjoy and frankly the direction is their creative choice)

This vibrant community is full of so much talent and love for this amazing series. I have made some truly incredible friends, worked on some hilarious and delightful collaborations and have seen wicked talent come together to make something special. Just look on the horizon, and you’ll see a certain 100% fan-made game coming soon, which has a little something for everyone!

Keep creating. Ignore the bad apples. Don’t be an asshole. I’m going back to drawing silly things. - from the hart