#not really politics though?? just being gospel minded??

[theragamuffininitiative]

Tfw you get recommended a particular pastor-teacher by a peer and you have gotten just wise enough at this point to go look the person up before just ingesting their teaching, and the top two things they have recently said are "Christian Nationalism is a good thing and a God-ordained pursuit" and "Israel should by no means pause or cease fire" and you're just like. Aha. Ok then. Glad I checked first. 😅

[blushydrangea]

im here to ask u ur thoughts in the... pj controversy ehhekekfke i wanna say smthn abt but like i feel as if i dont grasp the whole thing yet so i chose to shut up rn

hi love! under the cut so the people who are tired of discussing this topic can avoid it.

it's a long one!

i know everyone here has likely come across the tweets pj made, but as an archiver at heart i feel the need to break everything down. screenshots aren't mine.

on the 18th, pj made a tweet about fellow drag queen and artist chappell roan, questioning the authenticity of her love for drag. most people (me included!) thought she was trolling, which unfortunately didn't happen to be the case. plane appeared to be under the impression that chappell was mean or cold towards drag queens she invited to her shows, something she allegedly heard about in boston and, according to some people on reddit so take this with a grain of salt, was debunked. she followed her tweet with another, ironically saying "i love chappell roan". the first tweet was then deleted.

after several people accused plane jane of trying to gatekeep drag from women & having an unfair opinion deeply rooted in misogyny, pj released a notes app screenshot on the 19th. however, going against the purpose of most notes screenshots, hers wasn't an apology. instead, she chose to call out the hypocrisy of people attacking her because they were calling her a man (it's important to note that pj hasn't directly told us what her ood pronouns are afaik).

she made some more shady tweets after that and argued with stans on social media but i don't feel like including these, so the last update we have was this apology pj made for her fandom.

before i speak my mind on this, i just wanna say that i am willing to discuss this as long as people are polite, any aggressive messages i might receive will be promptly deleted.

to be honest, i didn't like what she said. being a person with a platform and, let's be real, several crazy stan accounts who follow her word like gospel, it was wrong in my opinion to call a growing lesbian artist (one of the very few we have, at that) performative for her love of drag. someone who also engages in the *checks notes* performative art of drag. there isn't much of a "bag" to be secured by pretending you love drag, as it's not that mainstream, and i can't help but wonder if pj would have the same criticism were chappell a gay man instead of a lesbian woman.

misogyny is real and it's present in all of us, we were all raised to see women as less than. pj is white and male-presenting with her makeup off, she isn't incapable of misogyny because she is gay or a drag queen. therefore, it rubbed me in the wrong way to see her voice out the same beliefs i've heard from other gay men before – that women deserve to be questioned whenever they exist in drag spaces. i don't agree with the sentiment that pj meant women shouldn't do drag, as she never said that. though she honestly reminded me of those men who ask me very specific and tricky questions about the tree of gondor or whatever when i tell them i love the lord of the rings. are you a true fan?

her notes app statement was what pissed me off. she was really immature imo, ofc she's only 26 so there's room for growth, but twisting a situation you inserted yourself in to seem like the victim based on... people calling you a cis man? come on. it was a self-centered statement made by someone who seemed to refuse to take any criticism on this subject matter. i was very disappointed she chose the "but you are wrong too!" route instead of apologizing to the people she hurt.

her apology to her fandom was... fine, i guess. it served to show me that she seems to be comfortable living in her bubble.

do i think she's a bad person? no, i don't. but i do think she had a misogynistic take and doubled down on it because she refuses to admit she was wrong. i'm staying away from her for the time being, i'll probably get over it eventually but rn i don't wanna see her face all that much. no judgement whatsoever to people who forgave her and are still posting about her, it's your blog, do what you want <3

[idolatrybarbie]

pairing: marcus pike x alex dozie (fem!OC)

word count & rating: 4.4k | explicit - 18+ only please and thanks

summary: marcus pike is the new congressman for the great state of Vermont. it's time to celebrate.

content tags: angst, takes place in 2022, alcohol, background american politics, smut - vaginal fingering, mentions of cockwarming in a way but it's more like Mormon soaking hey don't look at me like that, penis in vagina sex, painful sex, racism, slutshaming, misogyny (none of these from marcus.)

tags & notes: @atinylittlepain | still feel weird being here i am nawt back do not alert the authorities - gin really loves these two and that is inspiration enough to write and post for them.

It’s a cloudy November day when he wins. No rain, no smog; simply overcast. The weather could almost fool you into thinking that this is any other day. Another Tuesday nearing the end of the year, who cares?

If she lived a different life, maybe that would be the case. Alas, she does not—she lives this one. After a win in the primaries and an election sixteen months in the making, they’ve crossed the finish line. Well, he has. Marcus Pike, the latest (and greatest, though she’s biased) congressman Vermont is lucky to receive.

And who is she exactly? If you asked her, no one. Ask him, though—

“Everyone, please give it up for Miss Alex Dozie!” Marcus booms. His voice carries across the room easily, naturally. Like he’s made for this. He is.

They all follow his word like gospel, the raucous applause almost as loud as the heartbeat in her ears. Alex watches more then feels Marcus take her hand in his own, lacing their fingers together as he lifts their arms in the air. Together in victory. That’s what this is, isn’t it? A victory and this is their celebration party. Surrounded by staffers, donors, volunteers—you name it. A variety platter of New England’s who’s-who all here to celebrate the congressional win of Marcus Pike, a rising star and thought leader in the Democratic party.    

He’s a little too centrist for Alex’s liking, but despite being press secretary for his very political campaign, they never really get around to talking shop. Hard to chat about affordable housing with his tongue down her throat.

Alex sinks back into her body slowly. Marcus lets her go, replacing her warm palm with a glass of champagne. He continues his speech as she flutters through the crowd to the very edge of the room.

“It’s been a long journey. A lot of hard work from everybody in here. I also want to thank…”

Alex tunes it out, gazing blindly across the room. There must be almost 300 people in here. She had never known what that looked like. Does she even know that many people? One hundred living souls, and then triple it. The fact astonishes her. Even more people voted for him and got him here. They believe in Marcus Pike.

Being him right now must be about as close as one gets to playing God.

Marcus starts to wrap up his speech, catching her attention again. He’s searching for her face, bright like a beacon. He breaks into that million-dollar smile of his when sees it.

“I want to thank you,” he says. The words are spoken to a sea of suits, but she knows what he really means. “I truly couldn’t have done this without you. We are going to make a difference here. I can feel it. And for that, I am forever grateful.”

We. That alone makes Alex feel all gooey inside. A small smile fights its way across her lips.

               The crowd breaks into amiable chatter, the party portion of this formal celebration spreading like a virus as more drinks are made and softer pop music spouts out from wherever. Alex has half a mind to meander over to coat check and grab her things. Before she can convince herself, Marcus sidles up beside her near a darkened window.

“By yourself?” he asks.

“As is preferred,” she says.

Marcus hums. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to put up with me.”

“Terrible, truly.” But it’s all smiles; he is all smiles, Alex mirroring him.

They have to keep it cool here, professional. She can read his eyes. You look beautiful. The heavy blink and bashful glance down at her shoes will have to suffice as a thank you. Alex watches as Marcus readjusts his tie, thick fingers grazing the soft fabric. She wishes they were in her mouth instead.

“Great party,” she says, clearing her throat.

“Yeah. Got this press secretary, she planned it all for me.”

“You’ll have to get me her card.”

“Of course,” Marcus says. Light laughs fall from both of them. “You did a great job.”

“It’s alright,” Alex shrugs.

“It’s amazing,” he insists. You’re amazing.

“All previous party planning experience was organizing my senior prom.”

“And it’s still fantastic, look at you.”

“The process was much easier with a congressional Platinum card, trust me,” Alex says. Then she holds up her drink—not the standard fare of J. Lasalle but a Bourbon Ginger from the open bar—and lets it fall in a clink against Marcus’ half-empty flute of champagne. “To money.”

“To success,” he says.

“Yeah, that too.” She lets the prickly pleasantness of ginger root and dark liquor slide across her tongue. It burns going down, but she likes it like that. “So… What are your plans for the rest of the night?”

“I dunno’,” Marcus says, shrugging his shoulders. His voice lowers to a whisper. “I was thinking about breaking in the new office. You?”

“Does breaking it in have anything to do with fucking me in it?”

“It could.”

“I’m pretty amenable to these plans, then,” Alex says.

Marcus offers her his hand again. “Follow me.”

They wait as the tide of partygoers pushes in, making their escape when it falls back, slipping through tall double doors. Marcus leads Alex up a back stairwell, heels clicking against wood. He lets her lead the rest of the way, watching the slink in her step and the sway in her hips. He hates it when she leaves but loves to watch when she walks away—and tonight, he gets the best of both.

Alex stops at the doorway. She waits for him to cross the threshold first; it only feels right. Marcus pulls her in by the elbow, a goofy grin overtaking his face.

“C’mere, gorgeous,” he says.

They connect at the mouth, soft and gentle like Marcus’ hold on her waist. He runs a soothing finger over the material of her dress—smooth white satin that swathes over her hips and neck, leaving her shoulders bare. Vintage Ralph Lauren on loan; Alex couldn’t dream of owning something this expensive with all her lingering Howard loan debt. The dress, along with the pearly cream heels that were once her mother’s, is a drastic change from her outfit at this afternoon’s swearing-in ceremony: a dress with frumpier sleeves, sitting just below the knee in a purple bright enough to rival a red clover. She’d hated it, feeling trapped inside some illusion of a church girl with her hair pressed into long pin curls.

The way Marcus looked at her then, same as now, made it worth it. He thinks the world of her, along with the Sun and the rest of the solar system too. He slides a hand across her chest, a nipple peaking against the fabric. When he squeezes, her cunt drools. Alex slips a hand into his hair, pulling hard enough that Marcus moans into her mouth. They move as a unit, one step at a time until he has her caged against his new desk.

They break only when she looks down, hiking the smooth fabric up to expose the bottom half of her body. Marcus cups her gently over her underwear, feeling dampness against the heel of his palm.

“Couldn’t have done this without you, sweetheart,” he whispers against her lips.

“You could have,” she says between sweet kisses to each cheek.

“I didn’t want to.”

Alex smirks. “Lucky you, then.”

She likes to tease, but the self-satisfaction on her face falls when he presses his hand against her harder. The pressure against her clit makes her ache, moving her hips up to meet him. She starts to grind against his hand. Marcus watches the wet patch on the gusset between her legs grow as Alex gets herself off. Lucky him indeed.

“What do you need, baby?” he asks.

“Touch me…please.”

A small gasp falls from her lips when he peels her panties down, Alex lifting her hips to aid in the effort. They wrap around her ankles, caught by the backs of her heels. Marcus touches her bare skin, already wet and sticky when he runs two fingers against her.

“More,” she says.

"Hmm, I don’t know,” Marcus says. “I think you like it like this.”

“Marcus Jordan Pike…put your fingers inside me or get the fuck out of this office.” Her tone is breathy but commanding, drawing his attention from her hips to her eyes.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, slipping a finger through her wetness before sinking it into her cunt. Alex moans, and Marcus moans with her. His starting rhythm is slow and purposeful, searching for that spot that gets her eyes to cross as she bites her tongue to keep quiet. She cants her hips in time with him, meeting every thrust of his middle finger as slick squelches onto the webbing of his hand.

A high whine tears from the back of her throat when Marcus finds what he is looking for. He adds his index inside of her, massaging the spongy spot inside of her with deft attention.

“Fuck, Marcus,” Alex sighs, panting into his neck. She holds him close by the shoulder, arm wrapped around to his neck as she pulls lightly at his ear.

“That feel good?” he asks. All she can do is nod. “My baby feels so good, huh? You worked so hard. I’m so proud of you. Let me help you relax.”

Something about being called his baby has her weak in the knees. She likes that, just a little. Alex would never admit it, not in this environment of all-or-nothing stances, not even to him. The feminists of this town and the Internet would eat her alive for admitting even the fantasy of being a kept woman turns her on, just a little. Still, Marcus can tell by the way she clenches tight around him.

“Such a sweet thing…so smart, you know that? Couldn’t do anything without you.”

“Marcus, please. D-don’t stop, just—right there.” She stutters on a breath when he presses his thumb to her clit. Alex’s thighs clench around his hand, trapping the limb so he can only move from the wrist down.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Feel it, baby. I’ve got you,” Marcus whispers against her ear.

He captures her for another kiss, languid as he speeds up his fingers and the circle of his thumb. She cums with a cut-off cry and a tremble of her hips, pulling him closer and pushing him away with her body as she creams over his fingers. They stay joined a few moments longer; she sits up a little more, smoothing out the collar of his dress shirt.

When Marcus moves his hand, Alex fulfills her wish. She takes him by the wrist and leads his fingers to her mouth. She tastes herself as they pass the wet heat of her tongue, swirling between the two digits for good measure. Marcus groans as he watches, mesmerized.

“You’re killing me here,” he says.

 “We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Alex asks. She reaches for the zipper of his pressed slacks, hard cock waiting for her underneath. “Public servant and all.”

The zipper needles down easily, two buttons on the inside of the linen plucked undone in a moment. She rolls Marcus’ pants down to settle over his ass, revealing to her the pre-cum stained front of his briefs. Seeing the pair of novelty underwear she got for his birthday, Alex laughs. His cock is covered in bald eagles.

“Why is you laughing at me still sexy?” Marcus asks.

Alex draws him in by his tie. “’Cause you’re a perv,” she says.

Marcus scoffs, but there’s no bite in it. “I don’t have a comeback for that.”

She works him out of his underwear, spitting onto his shaft before giving him a stroke. “That’s how you know it’s true.”

Alex sets them into motion, leaning back to signal Marcus. He immediately swipes everything—nameplate, important government documents, a miniature post holding the American flag—off the desk and onto the floor. He runs his tip, slick and swollen, through the mess of her cunt. Teasing her, he presses against her clit like a button, making Alex jolt.

“Just fuck me, dweeb,” she says.

One thing about Marcus is that he takes direction well. He slides into her with ease, both moaning in sync at the fit and feel. Filling her with one thrust of his hips, she makes him stay there for a moment, savouring the sensation. The fullness is enough to make her feel good—sometimes it’s enough to make her cum, like when they sat together in the campaign office, her on his lap as she squeezed her cunt around his thick cock to orgasm.

Then she taps at his hip, pulling at Marcus’ forearm to get him to meet her horizontally. His thrusts start quick and small, grinding against her insides as he never quite leaves her. Idly, she wonders how many times they’ve fucked in an office. The campaign office? They’d made up a bit of an accidental schedule, twice a week on Tuesday and Friday when everyone usually went home before seven. A handful of times in his car, which were always her least favourite no matter how long Marcus ate her out to make up for it.

 Once in her bed. It was late August this year, the air balmy as she and Marcus stepped out of that upscale bar in one of those times between overcast clouds and dripping rain. He’d had a few too many to drive home, and Alex lived just three blocks over. She hadn’t meant to fuck him. It was only the second time, after a quick and easy mistake they’d made on the fold-out table that operated as the volunteer command center; that particular night, there were still Vote4Marcus stickers in her hair when she got in the shower.

But Alex did fuck him, and it was amazing. Probably what spurred her to keep fucking him. Not the money, or the potential power. Just the tender, semi-drunk sex they shared on her double mattress. The only time it ever happened.

She’s trying to calculate how many Tuesdays and Fridays are in eight calendar months when a particularly sharp thrust catches her attention. Alex groans, but not in the sexy way, as Marcus punches his cock into her cervix. It feels good still, in a way, but the pinch of pain is throwing her off.

“H-hold on,” she mutters, so quiet she can barely hear herself. Marcus keeps going, fucking her with a hand at her sternum for leverage.

“You feel good?” he asks.

“No, just—hold on,” Alex repeats. She places a hand over his as Marcus slows to a stop.

“Everything alright?”

Before she can answer, they both feel his phone buzz in his pocket. Marcus pulls away from her, wiping his hands on his pants to check. She sees his mouth screw up in a side pout as he reads whatever message is waiting for him.

“Time to go?” Alex asks.

“I just—this big donor is heading out, the McCaskills? Polly wants me to start greeting people as they leave.”

Another one of many times Alex would love to tell Polly Friedman-Blau where she can put her tight smiles and wandering eyes.

“Of course.” She’s already standing, lifting her leg to pull her underwear back up and over her crotch. They are uncomfortably sticky, but that won’t be a problem for long.

“What do you mean, of course?” Marcus asks behind her.

Alex turns, smoothing out her dress. She’ll have to find a bathroom to properly fix herself up before heading back downstairs.

“I mean, come on. What are you, the lobby boy?” The hurt anger bubbles up from nowhere, shocking her as much as him.

“They donated thousands of dollars, Lex.” She hates that name. He knows she hates it. “We wouldn’t be here without them,” Marcus says.

She makes for the door now, shaking her head. Alex ignores the burn between her thighs. She doesn’t make it to the hall, though. Marcus grabs her arm, pulling her back to him.

“What?”

“Can we just—can we not leave tonight like this?” he asks. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.” He peppers her face with soft kisses, gentle with his words. “When it’s all said and done, I’ll find you. We can continue this back at my place.”

His place. The place she’s never seen. Something roils hot inside her, small fireworks snaking and sparking between her ribs.

“Okay?” Marcus asks.

“Okay,” Alex agrees.

He fixes his pants and she straightens his tie. Marcus is off again, heading downstairs. Alex lingers in his office for a minute longer, taking it all in. They made it. They are here.

When an appropriate amount of time has passed, she wanders out to find a bathroom, closing the door behind her. A few party drunkards have made it upstairs. Alex smiles politely and ducks out of any potential conversations by moving onto the stairs and heading down. A bathroom presents itself at the foot of the steps, a golden sign that says ‘Ladies’ waiting for her.

The door swings inwards silently. Alex hates to say she’s impressed, what with the horrible screech of her own bathroom’s hinges. A glance in the mirror tells her she doesn’t look too crazy. Taking advantage of the empty presence, she locks herself in the very last stall to take a piss. As she wrangles the wafer-thin toilet paper, she hears the door open again. Not so silent after all.

Two sets of expensive heels—four clicks against the stone floors—echo throughout the room. Alex is about to get up and flush before someone speaks.

“Oh, I don’t know,” one woman says, voice low. “That girl he thanked… I’ve heard some things.”

“She’s not a girl. We’re all women here,” another woman says.

“Could’ve fooled me,” the first one snickers.

Alex keeps her breathing even, still listening. “What’s the word on her?”

“Oh, you know. The usual: she’s sleeping with him.” Well, that’s not inaccurate. Still, it stings to hear coming from— “She’s only in it for the money, you know? Supposedly, she had a thing with her TA back in undergrad.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But then she set her sights on political office. But she doesn’t want to be the man behind the desk. She just wants to reap all the benefits.”

“Little does she know, all those men have some sweet thing under there to keep ‘em warm.”

“Trust me, I think she does. Bold of her to assume he’d ever make her First Lady.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Marcus Pike is a name you remember. Alex Dozie? Come on. We’ve already had Barack and Michelle.” The other woman doesn’t say anything to that. “There was something about his fa—”

Alex takes that as the time to strike, pressing the metal button jutting from the wall to get the toilet to flush. In a few seconds, she unlocks the stall door and saunters out to the sink. Silently, she rubs soap between her palms and fingers, sticking her hands beneath the automatic tap to rinse away the suds. The women are exactly as she expected: thin, white, and beautiful. Their dresses look much more expensive, much more modern.

She wonders if they’d say all that if she looked more like them.

Alex waits ‘til the door shuts behind her to let the tears well up. Well, shit. This is supposed to be the night of everything right, and it’s all going terribly wrong. She walks blindly, water blurring Alex’s vision as she keeps her head down and eyes forward. Eventually, she reaches an office on the first floor. Fine wood paneling and frosted glass windows. The office chair is practically calling her name. When she slumps into it, the tension bleeds from her spine. Somehow, the leather seems to have that new car smell to it.

It takes a few minutes to realize that this is her office. She recognizes it from pictures Marcus sent her. Their tiny what-ifs were turning into reality, and this was one of them. If I win, you’re taking this office. It’s the nicest one…besides mine. There were so many of those that Alex began thinking it impossible for them to lose. Like this was fate or something.

Fate; destiny. She was meant to do this. Fuck whatever Malibu Bitch numbers one and two think. Who cares what people know, or think they know? Alex is here, and she knows exactly why. It has nothing to do with the…extra-curricular activities between her and Marcus Pike. It was because she’d worked her ass off; because she deserved it. A tenuous thread of hope, sure, but it was enough to keep her from finding Marcus and quitting on the spot like she wanted to.

Instead, she heads to coat check and gets her purse and jacket. Alex tips the lady with President Andrew Jackson, calling a cab in the lobby. A long, hot shower and a good night’s sleep will make everything better; it always does.

Alex wakes at five o’clock. She does not feel better. Somehow, she feels worse. Whatever slathered over the surface of her skin last night has settled, sinking deep into her bones. It’s not quite anger, or sadness. A churning disquiet has taken up in her gut, leaving no room for breakfast or coffee. A box of things sits on the kitchen counter, waiting for her to take it into the office—her new office. Alex almost forgets it three separate times.

The drive is sure to be the only calm part of her day. Alex savours it, taking the easy route through town. The building is cute, not a monster when it’s not plugged full of people. It’s an eclectic mix of brick and metal on the outside, dated but sleek on the inside between hardwood and glass. Inside is quiet, too, which she enjoys. Still, her stomach stirs with unease. It feels like everyone stares when she walks in.

Alex’s thighs ache, a reminder of what she and Marcus did last night. She bristles at the thought, shame creeping up the back of her neck. Maybe they shouldn’t do that here. This isn’t some rental space in Downtown Burlington. This is an important office.

She puts her box down at her desk, the contents landing with a thud. At the top of her trinket pile sits a framed photo: Alex and Marcus, smiling as she waves at the camera from the hip. She forgets now what they were talking about, one of the earlier Vote For Marcus Pike banners hanging behind them, pinned to a wall. This was a month into Alex working for him. A month of wondering if he still remembered, and figuring out quickly that Marcus didn’t. The first real conversation they’d had where she had no excuse to duck out of the office or wander away. The first real conversation with the man that would change her life.

15 months ago and yet it feels so far away; unreachable. Alex wants to crawl into the picture frame, claw back time to when she knew what she was doing here. The objective was simple. Get Marcus elected. Now? One night and she’s been sent into a tailspin.

When she looks up from the photo, it’s because of all the clapping. When does all the goddamn clapping end and the real work start? Alex was starting to wonder. She moves from her desk to the doorway, catching a glimpse of what the fuss is all about. It’s Marcus, of course. He doesn’t see her; how could he with all the people in the way? He glad-hands and smiles his way through the office. Someone takes a photo—fancy camera, flash on—and Alex blinks. She’s been injected into Clinton-era comic strip, waiting for them to bring out the baby to kiss.

Marcus Pike gets applause for showing up to do his job. Sure, it happens, but when did that become her life? Her reality? Alex does not belong here. Clearly, he doesn’t need her here. He didn’t call last night when she didn’t show.

The campaign trail was then, and this is now. She is of then…Marcus doesn’t need her now.

Thank god for the printer in this office. She types up something quick, waiting for the blocky machine to whirr to life. A quick, six-sentence letter of resignation spits out moments later. Alex takes it, folding it in two. She goes to grab her box of things, Marcus’ eyes staring back at her. She leaves it.

Her heels click and clack against the floor as she makes her exit. Letter clutched in her hand, she doesn’t notice the tiny young woman in front of her until they collide.

“I’m so sorry,” she squeaks first.

“It’s my fault,” Alex says, shaking her head.

“You’re Miss Dozie?” the woman asks. She looks a little scared, a little reverent.

“Unfortunately. Why?”

“I’m supposed to bring you some briefings,” the woman says. Alex notes the badge on her lapel. Office aide. “After I bring Mr. Pike his coffee.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Okay?” Alex asks. The aide nods, brow furrowed in confusion. “Could you do me a favour, though?”

“That’s my job, ma’am.”

“Could you put this on Mar—Mr. Pike’s desk for me? Preferably when he’s away from it,” Alex says.

“Of course, ma’am,” the aide nods. Alex wishes she knew her name.

“Thanks,” she nods. “Good luck up there, hey?”

Alex walks away, through the lobby to the front doors. In less than an hour, the weather has changed from overcast clouds to sputtering rain. Albert Hammond serenades her with guitars, alerting her to a phone call. She almost picks it up, finger automatically reaching to press the ‘answer’ button. Alex thinks twice about it, checking who it is. Marcus, of course.

Frozen on the sidewalk, rain pelts her head as she watches the phone ring. After about a minute, it stops, his name disappearing.

Seems it never rains in Southern California

Seems I’ve often heard that kind of talk before

It never rains in California

But girl, don’t they warn ya’?

It pours, man it pours

[ovwechoes]

DPS Boys & Headcanons!

It's finally arrived; each of the OVW DPS girls have plans to attend a concert, but who would they each go see? These are my personal headcanons (SFW)!

My post with my DPS female headcanons can be found on my profile! Any and all thoughts are welcome, and because this post is a littleee lengthy I've put it under the cut <3

Bastion: Bastion enjoys music, but not enough to bring him to a concert. He doesn't mind if Torbjorn or Brigitte invites him along, but he's too afraid of how busy concerts can be to attend incase it triggers his PTSD.

Cole Cassidy / Cassidy: Similarly to Ashe, he enjoys country music and would love to see artists such as Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, and Chris Stapleton. He would do anything to attend one of their concerts, even build his own time machine. He's not too picky though, and he's happy to see whatever band or whoever he can live as it's something he's always enjoyed (and probably always will, even if it's not with the deadlock gang anymore).

Genji Shimada / Genji: I can imagine Genji loves to indulge in music that blends classic japanese styles with pop, hip hop and jazz. He's an introvert by nature though, so it would have to take a lot for him to go to a concert and bring himself to see them with so many people around. Artists like Nujabes, Kitaro and Bonobo would most likely be at the top of his list for who he wants to see live. He appreciates artists who blend Japanese instruments with soothing rhythms and technological beats, it makes him feel as though he's seen through the music and it's something he values.

Hanzo Shimada / Hanzo: Alongside Genji, I can imagine he appreciates artists who are developing the sound of Japanese instruments and blending them with pop and other genres. However, I think he would lean more so towards traditional Japanese performances; it would bring him back to a time when he was younger and more innocent, and it would remind him of his life before the mistakes and choices he made changed everything. He would do what he could to watch Taiko Drumming performances live and to feel the music pound through his feet. I can imagine that he would also aim to go to musical adaptations of Japanese movies, like studio ghibli ones, to enjoy the musical aspect in person. It's something that would calm him and quiet the thoughts that plague his mind and remind him of his guilt.

Jamison Fawkes / Junkrat: I can imagine Junkrat is the type to listen to every genre; if something tickles his brain in the right way, he loves it. He especially would love punk rock, like The Offspring and System of a Down, but also anarchist artists who have politically charged lyrics like Rage Against The Machine. He'd do anything to see them live, and would probably pickpocket everyone there with him.

Gabriel Reyes / Reaper: Reaper is old school, he's an old man. He likes his metal music and his dark, moodly classics, such as Marilyn Manson, Nine Inch Nails, Slipknot, Korn and Tool. He would be the type to stand in the crowd and watch the mosh pits happening, without really doing anything other than tapping his foot and drinking. He appreciates the music of course but in his own way that scares everyone off around him.

John Francis "Jack" Morrison / Soldier: 76: Jack's taste in music is definitely influenced by his upbringing in Minnesota; he loves blues, jazz and gospel music despite not being entirely religious (or as religious as he used to be, before the soldier program). As such, he would definitely try to see Duke Ellington, Thelonious Monk, and Count Basie at least one last time before anything happened to him and prevented him from doing so, even just for old time's sake and for nostalgia. He views them as traditional American musicians, and would do what he could to see them live (if he has the chance to of course).

Torbjörn Lindholm / Torbjörn: Torb would be the type to enjoy classic rock and alternative folk music; it's something you'd hear in his home constantly while he works. He's at an age where he's been to enough concerts, and doesn't feel the need to anymore especially when he has more work to complete with undoing the harm he believes he's caused (via the omnic wars). If he was asked if he could see anyone in an alternate universe without any limits, he would struggle to pick between Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Sabaton and Buddy Guy.

I hope these are accurate and if you have any opinions, please send them my way! My asks are open to anything and everything overwatch related <3

[shivroyisbisexual]

one of those things that I find pathetic are those succession fans who make videos and comments on videos where they GENUINELY root for the man with the most “top dog” vibes and have a whole running hierarchy in their minds about it.

It’s one thing to analyze the show for that — I definitely do, and the characters within the show definitely are keeping score within their different information-limited perspectives. It’s important, a key part of the culture and what makes the characters tic as people.

It’s another thing to really buy in and huff top dog farts about it.

Here’s my list of red flags for boring dude bro succ commenter (woman inclusive term though it’s usually men)

In honor of it being a show about rich fucks I’m using the little golf red flag emoji

⛳️ promotes and defends Logan’s politics and behavior as great and true right down to repeating his lines on being totally self made, knowing how people “really are”, how everyone is out to get him for no reason, he’s a strong family man, he should be in charge because he’s strong enough to tell it like it is blah blah

⛳️ that fucking “hard times make hard men who make good times that make soft men that leads to hard times” crap or however it goes — they really believe in this shit

⛳️ Logan’s word is gospel, to the point of quoting his views line for line as THE literal truth summary of a situation or character

⛳️ The above is taken as true especially about himself and his kids, but this goes triple for anything he says about Shiv. If he says Roman has no fucking acumen that’s taken to be probably mostly true, but Roman is seen as able to rise up and prove him wrong. If he says Kendall is not a killer, that’s probably mostly true, but Ken is seen as able to “rise up” and prove him wrong. If he says Shiv has no real experience and isn’t as smart as she thinks she is, not only is that unquestionably true but she can never rise above it AND she’s not just not as smart as she thinks she is she’s downright stupid. The worst. Definitely married Tom 100% because she’s a coward and that’s alllllll there is to it because notorious family man Logan is an oracle. Perfect font of wisdom. Interestingly this is also how the wrapped around Logan’s finger grown up abused kids act when stressed — they throw Logan’s take downs of each other in each other’s faces as unquestionable truths

⛳️ has little or nothing to say about Connor other than memeing him or calling him likable because he’s not in the fight for succession really and he’s too on the nose a parody of “anarcho capitalists”/“libertarian” crank leaders whose 1%er (in more than 1 sense) runs for high office these boring dude bros have likely donated to and hyped before

⛳️ succeeding Logan is consistently viewed as an unqualified “win”, as is becoming “a killer” like Logan even if a few flourishes toward how evil he is are made, or how they would be better off cashing out. Commenter still reverts to succession = winning. Adopting Logan’s personality = winning. Except for Shiv mostly, she’s just a cold two faced b*tch especially if she acts more like Logan to Tom.

⛳️ former game of thrones viewer who’s main interest was Who Would Win (tm) mostly adjudicated based on who was confident and powerful with snappy lines or bold moves that day and probably was a dude or could be said to owe her shit to a dude or they predicted she’d win but would be horrible as a ruler and wouldn’t “deserve it”

⛳️ even if they hide it you can tell the vibe is they do think any sign a character is gay or bi is a mark against them like they’re definitely laughing at it in a “haha eww” (mentally deducts points) kinda way

⛳️ super basic conventional dude bro views on the wives, girlfriends and escorts being gold diggers, with 0 introspection on the dynamics of that when true being the fault of the rich man leveraging being rich and choosing it also, not being some poor baby getting taken for a ride by a master manipulator, and 0 interest in the complicated cases where yes the money is the main part of it but also there’s real relationships there in some cases too, or the heartfelt delusions of them at least

⛳️ tends to not remember the names of characters like Sophie, Iverson, Rava, Jess and just call them Kendall’s kids, Kendall’s ex wife, Kendall’s assistant lady

⛳️ hard to quantify or prove but they say the SAME thing like at first you think it’s the same dude but no it’s like 100+ different yt commenters saying the same thing word for word on different succession clip vids. Part of this is for sure yt commenter culture where people get into saying whatever broadly appealing thing gets likes or upvotes or whatever they’re calling it there, similar to reddit

⛳️ switches their views on the likelihood of a character to “win” on a dime with the whole dude bro commenter crowd moving as one, and not really seeming to take time to analyze why they were mislead (if they were) before. Like if they now think something else, they were wrong before, and that raises how and why. Here I’m thinking of the group that was totally all up in arms about Machiavellian Greg now hyping Kendall the Killer After-all. With no introspection on why they were SO easily convinced this other guy was going to get it (more or less because it would be a funny narrative if he did and they saw themselves in him and his “perchance” shit). They just really have a gut reaction to narrative beats that Feel Snappy and either clever or dominant, and therefore significant. But they have to rationalize and act like it’s more than it is.

🪂 Special shout out to a different set of succession commenters who annoy me: those think piece writers who claimed Greg and Tom had more “humanity” for sounding like stilted try hards and brought in academics to try and push that.

[manias-wordcount]

Have a request? Read me!

Okay so ive been running this shit for about a year and a halfish i think its time to talk about how i work. though before we start i just wanted to say im thankful for everyone who supports me or just reads a work of mine. it means the world to me and i enjoy being able to share my writings with a bunch silly and lovely people like y’all !!! 

General Rules for my blog!

Please don’t ask me for any personals information lol

like actually

this includes stuff like my age, where im from, etc. 

i share what i want on my own private time sooo like

dont ask teehee

Please dont make SA jokes in the comments of my stuff xD

i wish i was joking.

i understand some people use humor to cope

but thats no excuse to be joking about bringing out the rape whistle when a unpopular background character is staring at you

like i really wish i was joking but yeah

Don’t be rude in general in the comments of my stuff lmaoo

like its genuinely annoying.

it’s 10000% okay to not agree with my vision for how a story goes or how a character should react

but if that’s something you want to tell me, do not be rude about it lmaoo like where are your manners

like if you dont agree, you dont agree but neither of our word is law soo...

also dont fucking shame requesters or commenters if they’re actually doing nothing wrong

i’ve had way too many people complain or shade other’s completely reasonable requests like wtf???

but yeah practice some self-awareness before you speak your mind sometimes? 

you are not the only person in the room

okay rant over teehee

Some of the stuff on my blog contains sexual material

I really try to give warnings ahead of time

but don’t be afraid to point out if there's something else that probably needs a forewarning

also my words are not gospel

shit can be dramatized (im whore)  or romanticized for convenience of storytelling (im lazy) so if youre using this stuff to learn about sex uhhh

maybe dont?

Some of the stuff on my blog contains some dark themes

i also try to be transparent about those things as well

but for the record im in no way glorifying these dark themes

though as someone who is both creative and has seen/gone through so shit i do explore and work through some of these topics to myself as a person and as a writer!

Request Rules and Guidelines

i’ll write anything!! (within reason)

i think you guys can guess a bit about what “within reason” means

and i know the fact that i dont have a “NO LIST” can be inconvenient

but if you’re unsure if ill write something you want? just ask!

you can always ask in dms or in my inbox! either is fine  

that means i have the right to deny anything too, of course

long story short, y’all dont pay me LMAOO

i usually wont deny something but i will if it’s...

one: requested while my requests are closed (im sorry but no more means nomore!!!)

two: goes against what i believe in some way (i doubt anyone is going to request something political or bigoted so im talking shit like the fact that i will never write anything that takes place in the state of New Jersey USA because  i hate that place so much WHHAHAHAHA

three: you were mean to me AHAHAHAHAHAH

yeah this list isn’t long and very hard to get but i did want to make this transparent

before anyone starts requesting some new jersey aus..........

be respectful !!

not only am i human, im truly am doing this for free (for now, at least) and on my own time

though you should treat people who charge for their work with respect too.

its hard out there for us lil creators lmao

sometimes, less is better.

Super detailed requests can be tricky to navigate.

Again, im doing this on my free time and i average around 1K-2k words depending on what my life is looking like at the moment.

sometimes a super detailed requests require multiple parts that might not be released for a long time.

Or i struggle with getting a story im proud of putting my name while trying to respect the request.

If you want specific details to make the experience more personal to you, go for it

but do you really need to tell me what your request is in 11 full-length  sentences? do you really HAHAHAH

also if i aske you to explain something, please be able to explain it bc im not a mind reader and this guess and check thing is kinda stressful

try not to rush me lol

Im checking my blog everyday.

I see your requests and i promise im (most likely) not ignoring you.

i have other hobbies, and a life too, and possibly 20 requests ahead of you.

i try to get everything out asap but sometimes that’s like 2 or more months

BUT if you’re scared that your request may not have made it through the hellsite, send another one asking if i got the request! 

i’ll respond to that one if i have!

PLEASE TELL ME WHO AND WHERE THEYRE FROM IN YOUR REQUEST

like actually teehee

It stresses me when i just get a request and all that's included is the situation the requester wants and the character’s first name. Give me the full name or tell me where they’re from before i scour every single series i write for to check for repeat names

its not that big of a deal but im scared of fucking up for you guys aaaaaa

If you send me a weird or rude request as anon, im just going to delete it from my inbox for both of our sake

cough cough THINK LIKE NO PEDOPHILIA LIKE ACTUALLY

and im not gonna specify what i mean by “weird” beyond that just because it’s very much a random situation

im not naming anons but just kinda think ahead of time what you’re asking me (a stranger) to do and publish for you

maybe uhhh...check my masterlist before requesting?

i know its daunting

i know i have a lot on there

but there might literally be exactly what you’re looking for on there HAHA

if not though, absolutely go forward with requesting !!!!!!!

even if what you want is something similar to what i’ve already written, a few changes make a huge difference!

but when in doubt about characters or stories i’ve written before?

check!

if have the right to change the way i write a request (unless specifically stated otherwise)

all this means is that every request (unless a HC is specifically asked for) will start off as being written as a full length average Mania™ fic

if for any reason i decide it would be better in a different format, then i will change it (ex: fic  => hc)

UNLESS YOU SPECIFICALLY ASK FOR A CERTAIN FORMAT

then ill keep true to that format no matter what happens 

but yeah ! that’s it for now at least. ill update this post if theres more hehe. also if you have questions, just dm me or put it in my inbox :)

[chaosartisan]

"The mark of a great mind is to consider an idea without accepting it." -Aristotle

I wish I had remembered this quote last week.

So basically last week, a lot of people on TikTok and Youtube were saying that the Rapture was coming because of the eclipse on Monday. Being gullible, I fell for this madness and went back to being a Christian after being kind of an agnostic, atheist or a "lukewarm" christian for many years. I was so worried that I was going to be left behind and left to deal with the prophecies in Revelations.

Obviously, the Rapture did not happen.

Not only do I feel stupid on a secular level but also on a spiritual level because there is LITERALLY a quote saying that "no one knows the hour that Jesus will return" (Matthew 24:36). It's even worse because a lot of religious content creators, (despite having the potential to cultivate new followers from the event,) were debunking it during the eclipse. I can honestly say that I respect them. You know this reminds me of the Aztec Calendar incident from 2012 and I feel ashamed that, in almost 12 years, I either haven't changed or regressed back into being that gullible.

I'm still a Christian and I'm still adjusting back into educating myself on the Bible and it's difficult to transition into this new life. But this is basically just a warning to both atheists and theists alike to REALLY practice skepticism, especially when it comes to events like this. Thankfully, I didn't give any money to a corrupt individual like Kenneth Copeland but this whole thing really humbled me on how smart I thought I was.

To those who don't practice Christianity, I'm begging you to read through the Bible because there are influential people who will either believe this conspiracy theory or use it to manipulate the public and you need to be able to understand where they are getting that information in order to understand their thought processes and critically analyze their positions. It will either make sense to you and you'll believe it or you'll be able to debunk it. There is no downside to researching. But this was affecting American politics before so research would have helped in a debate prior to this event anyway. I'd start with the books of Isaiah, Matthew and Revelations because that's where the prophecies are supposed to be coming from but feel free to look into the other books as well.

And Christians, please read your Bible so you don't fall victim to false prophets who literally contradict the word of God. These false prophets are still claiming to know the day Jesus is supposed to return even though they were just proven wrong, so please be wary. Also wealth gospel is bunk, don't fall for it. Also, a lot of American Republicans are proposing an American Christian theocracy in 2025 so please note that a lot of politicians are going to try and use your lack of biblical knowledge to manipulate you into voting for them despite being corrupt individuals. "Every good tree will bring good fruit and every corrupt tree will bring forth evil fruit" (Matthew 7:17-23). Please examine their past actions and if they are continuing to work that way and don't let them manipulate you.

Also external sources will help you find the truth, as well, but whenever researching anything, (including the Bible,) take note of potential agendas, the time it was written and potential errors in translation/articulation. Even if something is true, opportunists will twist it into a lie to fit their agenda and you need to be prepared to call that behavior out.

As a people, let's PLEASE normalize curiosity, skepticism and diligent research. Please normalize a love for peace and quiet so people can stop chasing after the dopamine high that the perceived apocalypse clearly brings us.

If you're curious about that whole situation or you just want to tell me I'm stupid, I'm here I guess.

[ncitygirls]

only - changbin x f reader

angst, fluff, suggestive, royal!au, cw: war, 5.3k

you were barely eighteen when you accepted the hand in marriage of the son of the duke and duchess of levanter. seo changbin - an affluent heir to an impossible fortune - almost had you surprised when you found his interest in you was unlike that of your fellow bachelorettes. naturally, their interest was fuelled by an insatiable greed and a hot desire for financial prosperity. as should yours, as was yours. not changbin though. no, changbin prided himself on many things unfitting for a man of his status, even his age. he wondered not of your family’s alliances or existing trading partners, but of religion and upbringing. he tsked at mention of your international estates, unless in regard to your memories there. he was complimentary of your attire, less in expense but rather in beauty. changbin wanted to know of your favourite season, and your preferred time of day. who was your favourite poet, and from them your favourite poem. he was obsessed with your knowledge of the world, or rather your interest in it. you had been to neo, but did you really see it, really explore? and if not would you care to? did you prefer sugar or honey in your tea? your bread buttered or oiled? to sleep bare or in silk? he wanted to know what side of the bed you preferred to sleep on, if you were adverse to cuddling and if so, if you could be persuaded.

to be fair, he only spoke with you like this for two reasons. the first being your shared upbringing. after almost two decades of friendship, having you enter his home in the prospect of being his wife didn’t come as a surprise to the young bachelor, but rather a relief. he spent days in and days out discussing family politics, ancestry, and accounts. he chose to ignore the blatant issue there, sharing the intricacies of his family’s wealth and heritage with these ladies from kingdoms and countries he’d been too busy to pay any mind in schooling. he knew his ignorance could come back to bite him and it did, especially as you entered his home looking far prettier than he had ever recalled you looking. he held his tongue before he could whistle, but you could see his smirk all the same. it softened into a grin as he bowed, you returning the pleasantry with a lot less pleasantness than he offered you. he welcomed it all the same. it was why he could be free on this day. speak about the things that would effect you two as one another’s, not you two as one.

your presence also meant he didn’t have to pussyfoot around. he didn’t have to fear your hatred, nor your judgement. though your eyes rolled more than the actual number of potential brides he had become acquainted with. he let f bombs slip, and his guard down. he frolicked with you through the grounds you already knew so well, and guided you through the parts once forbidden to the rambunctious children you once were. he walked you to the kitchen and asked for bread, as opposed to stealing it like you both once would. he tried to describe the estate’s chambers as best he could, detailing the art a then prince hyunjin had gifted him and your childish scratchings still on his door frame.

‘you can see it one day,’ he had whispered under the willow tree on the grounds, watching the way your fingers clung loosely to the weeping leaves. ‘it’s still as it was when we were children.’

‘and how would i do that?’ the question is valid enough, though he frowns, tilting his head. ‘i did not realise i had uttered a riddle, my lord.’

‘well neither had i,’ he tutted, moving to latch onto the same branch you once held. ‘and here i was, assuming you to be the smart one.’

‘i am the smart one.’

‘then answer me this,’ he began, pausing to firmly elaborate, ‘plainly.’ your eyes roll for the umpteenth time at his silent warning before you concede with a nod. ‘how might you see my bed?’

with a sigh you deadpan, ‘if you were to make me your wife.’

‘so to see my bed, and your vandalism-’

‘scribbles.’

‘i must make you my wife.’

‘it seems quite the extreme just to see some old scribbles.’ if changbin senses the hidden meaning to your words, he gave nought away. ‘mightn’t someone just bring me a piece of the bed? i’m sure it’s almost past its use, just peel the pane off. and why still the same bed? you are a young lord of age now, don’t you think-’

‘you know you prattle when you’re nervous?’

‘i do no such thing-’

‘it’s cute.’

‘changbin! how are you so sure i want to be your wife, hm?’ you half questioned, moving away from his looming figure. ‘i only came because your parents asked me here.’

‘y/n, i have known you a long time,’ he punctuates his reminder by closing the distance you so bravely placed between you. ‘if you wished not to be here, you would have found no greater pleasure than to decline the invitation.’ that much is not only true but undeniable. the seo’s was your third courting invite this month alone. you knew, and worse, changbin knew. ‘is it so hard to admit that i might have soften that hardened heart of yours?’

‘i find no pleasure in your games, changbin.’

‘what game, y/n? can a man not just want you?’ your eyes betray you as you try to expel the softness conjured by his taunt. a taunt that is starting to sound less like a taunt, and more like a confession. ‘can i not just want you?’

‘how do i know you want me, bin?’ you pressed, pressing your back to the leaning trunk of the all encompassing tree. ‘how do i know you don’t just want a way out of this endless cycle of mindless heiresses?’

‘you said my parents asked you here?’ your head bobbed as he approached you, nodding in time with you before he stopped a foot before you, smiling eyes gazing right at you. ‘who do you think asked them?’

you were married that fall. under that same willow tree, in the presence of his royal highness and his kin, your family and the seos. the affair was small like you both wanted. small like your needs. you joked marrying you was a cop out, as he spun you around the gardens, escaping the intimate celebrations in the grand banquet hall to enjoy the breeze on your skin and feel the wind in your hair. it was the first time he held you since your dance lessons as kids. where you would lead and he would follow. he once swore he would follow you anywhere. both literally and figuratively. around the grounds of your childhood home, in all your beliefs and ideologies. he filled his mind and self with your gospel and truth, infatuated with your manner of thinking, how you arrived at conclusions. changbin spent his whole childhood falling in love with you.

‘you weren’t a cop out,’ he breathed into the shell of your ear, humming as you lay your head on his shoulder. pressing his lips to your temple he confessed, ‘you were my only choice.’

that night, the two of you consummated your marriage under that same willow tree. his hands clinging to your waist as he ground his hips into you. his tightened breaths filling the drum of your ear with every snap, his lips closing around the skin of your jaw, summoning the most satisfying whines he could draw from you. his lover. his friend. his lady.

in his absence, you remind him of this night. how biting the bark had been on your skin, the autumn air stinging your already teary eyes. his last letter arrived over a fortnight ago, it spoke of his fears at battle, the treacherous methods of his enemies. the only face he prays to see again and until that day, the only face he will dream of. you have sent a handful of letters since then, yet still sour as you awake another day to no news. you sigh as you grab your quill, letting the ink drip before signing off your letter.

‘my dearest, changbin. a season separates us, but only a season could.’

it isn’t long after you seal it that you are summoned to the hwang holiday estate. the royal family have a long history of retreating to the country when the weather is a touch higher than that of luke warm water, or near cool cinder. the seo’s residence is but a short carriage ride from the estate, though a tad longer walk. you often opt to walk as you do today, taking no larger than foot long strides between the cobbled paths. your guard walks in time with you, though no more than a few feet behind. he had never been one for small talk, you quickly came to realise. though, since neither is your husband, you feel an odd sense of relief, normality, even in his absence. you try and enjoy the song of the breeze through the willow, the scent of the king’s rose garden carried on its back. it’s hard over the creak of your guard’s hurried stomps, his pace doubling with every corner you take. you only verbalise your awareness of his impatience when he arrives beside you, hastened to strike the door to announce your arrival.

“master yang,” you call softly as you two await entry. “if i did not know any better, i would say you were rushing me.”

“apologies, my lady,” he confesses, stepping back at your side without any question. though, when he gulps, you eye him with a softened concern. “i was informed you were summoned due to a grave emergency.”

“worry not, jeongin.” you chide, recalling your highness’ idea of an emergency. “the king often calls when the queen is away and he is tasked with matters such as assigning dinner seating.” jeongin looks as if he is about to ask when you add, “she says his involvement humbles him.” when he nods, you straighten as the door swings open, a servant welcoming you in. “yes, there is nothing to fear, master yang.”

only, falser words had never been spoken.

you are quick to note the tremor in the king’s frame as he hurries to stand upon your arrival, rushing you through the official pleasantries of an official summoning. “lady seo.”

“your highness.” you reply, your knee bending as you politely lower your head. “how are you on this fine afternoon-”

“i apologise, y/n. but as you know, i didn’t call you hear on matters of leisure.” he politely interrupts, a flush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks as you frown. “when was last you heard from him?”

“heard from who?”

“from—” hyunjin’s confused gaze cuts to his informants, a few members of his court shying away from him before he marvels at them. “has lady seo not been informed?” when he receives no reply, you feel yourself shrink as the gentle king bellows, “why has lady seo not been informed?”

“informed of what—”

“the order of information begins with yourself sire, before reaching the court, the council, the lady and then the people.”

“i specifically requested she be kept informed. why has she not been kept informed?”

“well, your grace, the lady of a knight is only to be informed once official word is received from the battlefield and delivered to you sire.”

“official word of what—”

“which came through this morning and you are about to deliver the information to the lady.”

“king hyunjin!”

gasps fill the room from all but the king himself. he doesn’t falter, instead he turns to move towards you, his eyes growing more fearful, more earnest as he approaches. he shudders at the thought of delivering this message. he even scolds himself for attempting to delegate such responsibility. you are a friend. not only to the crown, but to the royal family itself. before heavy crowns kissed their heads. before rings ever kissed your knuckles. you were his friend. you had always been a friend to him, and the only time you had ever needed him was now and he had let you down.

“we received word that neo soldiers stormed our fortress in miroh. while we have received word from a few troops who were able to escape, we have yet to ascertain who of the full fleet have made it to safety.” when he pauses to gulp he sees your eyes gleam, breaths shallow. his hands then find yours, gripping your shaky, sweaty digits tightly. “we have received no word from changbin’s troop,” he stops when you gasp, your tears falling, cascading down and around your stained cheeks, your lip trembling. “but we have been able to track a number of our men back through the yellow wood, south of levanter.”

“i-is he there? is he okay?”

“we are yet to hear word,” the tears continue to fall, and he hates himself but all he can do is continue, divulge everything he knows. “they plan to set up camp on the edge of the wood, so i will make my way there now and have word sent back to you as soon as i find him.”

“no,” you refuse, snatching your hands away to drag them over your stained cheeks. “i cannot wait, i will join you.”

“as will i,” jeongin pipes up behind you, his voice an odd comfort once more. “your grace.”

“it is no place for a lady,” hyunjin tries, sighing when you just scowl, already mid curtsey as you preempt his agreement and dismissal. “i will have a carriage sent for you at once.”

“would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?”

“i-it would,” he discloses reluctantly, watching you ready yourself to decline the carriage. “for my sake though,” your scowl returns, ignoring the concern from the king. “i implore you to take the carriage. the yellow wood is far from kind..” you decode his meaning before he ever finishes speaking. the yellow wood is far from safe.

“but is this not the same wood my husband’s troop plans to take, sire?” hyunjin’s nod comes seconds later, shame tensing his jaw. hyunjin is visibly trying to appreciate your patience after having all this information dumped on you. but hyunjin also recalls the threats you readily made and followed through on in your younger years. so much so, he fears the worst of you when you bow before slowly approaching him, voice but a decibel higher than a nat’s buzz to threaten him. the king. before as many witnesses as it takes to have your head. “fine. i will take the carriage.

“but i regret to inform you i have fallen victim to the sick allure of hope. so if this carriage takes him from me? if i am too late? i will burn your kingdom to the ground, jinnie. mark my words.”

only once you leave does hyunjin breathe, noticably shaken by the violent rage existing within the women of his kingdom. “ready her carriage.” he suddenly commands, terrified of letting you down. “i want her there by nightfall.”

hyunjin had not embellished the treachery of this road. you had halted close to ten times in the first six hours of the journey. thanks to forewarning by the king and his council, your guards were prepared to be extra vigilant. weary from all sides of the carriage, bandits who fell from the trees and ambushed from the sides did not live long enough to prevail. from dawn til dusk, the wood falsified night with its woven rotted branches and the gradually setting sun, seeing was becoming more hopeless yet more crucial. without a maid for travelling company and jeongin busy guarding your personage, you were once again left with your thoughts. in times of dire woe, you called on memories of your love, though they read more like dreams. this dream is one that only longing for the man you prayed awaited you on the end of this perilous journey could conjure. because not only do you miss him, you fear for him. not much has changed.

‘you think i am going to get myself killed?’ he breathed, nipping at your clavicle as you rest in his lap. ‘have you no faith in me?’

‘of course i do,’ you defend, gasping as he clamps down, teeth rolling your skin. ‘i just-’

‘you just.. what?’ he doesn’t expect an answer. or so you suspect. especially following a slow drag of your thinly veiled heat over his firmed thigh. ‘you think i would ever abandon you?’

‘no, binnie,’ you start, rising from him with a sigh. ‘i just know you.’

‘you do?’ he ponders sweetly, gazing up at your shining eyes. ‘and what is it you know?’

‘you’re powerful, but far too stubborn.’

‘you know,’ he hums, crossing his thick arms as a small pout steals the lips of the strongest man in the kingdom. ‘for someone who claims to adore me, you tend to speak ill of me every chance you get, my lady.’

‘must the two be exclusive?’ when his frown only deepens, his folded arms tightening, you sigh once more. returning to his spread legs, you perch yourself on them, raising your steady fingers to the creases painting the forehead of the most stubborn man you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. he softens only slightly, his pouted lip closing around yours when you lean in, silently asking his forgiveness. ‘for every ill spoken word, i make up for with countless good, bin.’

‘such as?’ he huffs, knowingly egging you on.

with a small smile, you offer a final peck to his lips before praising the knight beneath you. ‘i know you will fight valiantly.’ you admit, pride permeating right through you to the man you call yours. ‘you will bring honour to your family, to your country.’ with the pads of your fingers, you tuck his hair behind his ear, cooing as he relaxes at your touch. ‘you will be a hero, my love.’

‘and this all worries you?’

‘do you know who will keep your legacy alive, changbin?’ his frown returns at concern for your quivering lip, a sudden fear seeping into your tone. ‘me. your widow.’ he begins to shake his head, a half assed assurance on the tip of his prideful tongue when you remind, ‘it may vex you to hear this, but please remember your knighting was in part an award for your bravery, but also in large part to hyunjin’s love for you.’

‘how can you say that-’

‘since bang chan the brave, name a knight who lived to see his knighting. just one, bin. name one who knelt before their king and felt the sword atop their shoulders. name one who did not die in battle, leaving their grieving widow to accept a meaningless commendation of his honour?’

‘you call your father’s commendation meaningless?’

‘don’t make me laugh, bin.’ your scoff would wound him had you not uttered, ‘i would have rathered he be the one to walk me down the isle the day i married you. knowing my father loved me enough to protect his country is a nice sentiment, but don’t you dare assume i would take that honour over his life.’

‘hey,’ he calls, holding you in his lap as you try to move from him. ‘my love, i didn’t mean to offend.’

‘i know,’ in these seconds you see past the facade, the knight that your husband is. you only see what you fell in love with. you see the compassion, the understanding. ‘bin, i need you to understand. really understand.’ with his cheeks cradled in your palms, you plead with your love. ‘you mean everything to me, seo changbin. before i ever realised you did. i will not let this mindless war take you from me.

‘don’t be a hero, changbin. leave that to some village boy with a chip on his shoulder, with something to prove.’ he nuzzles into your palm as he listens to your plea, gazing into your warning eyes. ‘just come back to me, okay? don’t make me beg.’

‘what if it helped your case?’ he mumbled into your skin, his lips gently puckering as his palms glide up the side of your neck. his tongue slid betwixt your parted lips, trying to exorcise any and all tension from your trembling frame. with another soft pucker of his lips, a suck on your wet muscle has you loosening, falling into him as he moves to embrace you. ‘would you?’

‘do not mock me.’

‘i would never,’ you find this hard to believe as he smirks like a man with ten knives readied for your back. they come as kisses instead, they line the column of your neck, followed closely by his thumbs as he angles your head toward him. ‘you just seem ready to, so i would love to hear it.’

‘perhaps i will marry that lee boy, with the speckled cheeks. i hear the maids think he’s a descendant of fairies, born from the very stars that kiss his face-’ the words halt in your throat as he flips you, firmly pinning you to the goose down.

‘you seem to have thought this through..’

‘have i much choice?’ you huff, glaring at his thoughtful gaze. ‘one tends to ponder such things when faced with their husband’s imminent demise.’ he only sighs, eyes rolling skyward as he asks the gods, old and new, why they ever chose you for him. ‘i hear his line is filled only with beautiful men. who was his ancestor again? minho the something.’

‘you know,’ refusing to come to your aid, he gathering up the hem of your silks. ‘most men would have your head by now.’

‘-magnificent! it was minho the magnificent!’

‘maleficent.’

‘hm?’

‘his name,’ nipping at the exposed skin of your chest, his hand tugs at the starched fabric as he corrects you. ‘it was minho the maleficent.’

‘oh,’ you breathe, less in defeat but rather in sweet contentment. ‘and why is that?’

‘because, my sweet,’ he huffs into your chest, resting on the heels of his palms planted either side of your cushioned head. ‘he burned all of levanter to the ground when his queen died.’

‘yes, he did.’ changbin only strokes the skin of your cheek as you pout, his eyes rolling at your uncanny ability to bring everything back to his encroaching departure. ‘and my husband will not even skip one war for me.’

‘’one war’?’ he smirks, dropping his lips to your exposed breast, tongue sweeping over your teased nipples. ‘you speak as though war is like an evening in a tavern.’

‘both tend to end in regret,’ you jest, or attempt to. it is growing increasingly difficult to barter with him as he presses his lips to your stomach, his body lowering in kind with his touch. before he can disappear entirely from view, you rise. as he rises with you, you are stunned by his rosey cheeks, the flush journeying to his neck as you rest on your elbows. he sees your turmoil. your clear desire for him shadowed painfully by your love and fear. he drops a kiss to your hip, his knuckles dusting the veiled bead of your heat, eyes hard on you as you falter, head lolling to the side before you regain your strength. ‘bin?’

‘hm?’

‘stay.’ it’s faint. so faint he barely recognises it as a plea. he only sighs, his forehead pressed to your abdomen as he purges your wet eyes from his memory. ‘please say you will stay. i cannot bear the thought of a winter without you.’

‘my love,’ changbin speaks into your skin, lowly beseeching your understanding while praying for your peace. ‘a season might separate us,’ he hums, expertly parting your thighs as he offers a lone kiss to your mound. ‘but only a season could.’

“my lady?” jeongin’s voice is first to break you from your nostalgic nightmare. the second is the cries of injured men. “we have arrived.”

the edge of the wood is a wounded minefield. limbless soldiers, knights and footmen alike, are dotted around the dimly lit field. your eyes gloss over at the heaped bodies, and water at the stench. “how long have they been here?”

“just under a week,” jeongin recalls, holding his hand out to stop you as medics pass with a burnt body on a stretcher. “it is hard to believe this is the winning camp.”

“there are no winners in war, jeongin.” you whisper, watching a man close the eyes of his fallen comrade a pair approach to drop his body in a mass grave. a fight ensues. “only loss.”

“y/n?” you halt at the call, half sprinting at the sight of han jisung, wearing a smile warm enough to light the night. “i thought his highness was jesting when he said you’d be here.”

“han!” you cried, latching onto him with a grip that nearly winded him. “thank god, thank god.”

“more like thank changbin,” he wheezed, squeezing you back just as tight, lifting you a few feet off the ground. “had he not been here, i would have surely-”

“where is he?”

“-died.” he only grins as you stiffen, recognising his part in your terror a second too late. “oh! no! he isn’t dead! he is alive! very alive!” his eyes flicker to a scowling jeongin, gulping down an apology as he gestures to his left. “come.”

further from the wood and slowly decaying corpses are the tents. some somehow less grand than a teepee, some spacious enough for a few hours sleep. jisung guides you both up to the largest of the lot, where you find an ill tempered king hyunjin growing increasingly more so. “no, leave him be.”

“had we known you were coming your grace- we can have him moved immediately.”

“your king gave you an order, soldier.” jisung chimes in, tongue slotting into the swell of his cheek as he gestures to you over his shoulder. “now move out of the way or i’ll have you explain to lady seo why she can’t see her husband on account of your insubordinance.”

“yes, sir.”

hyunjin bristles at jisung’s ability to command his men with little effort before he softens at your restless gaze. “he’s been asking for you.”

the grandeur of the king’s tent suits changbin well, you think. a fire crackles at the furthest end, masked only by a large canopy where you know he rests. the four poster bed takes up most of the space, and around it lays tin bowls, rags, blankets and water. the room seems barely lived in bar the knight whose faint breaths float toward you through the warm air. you feel yourself stalling, too busy taking in the space to recognise your fear. what will you find when you pull the curtain away? what remains of your husband, your lover, your friend? will he still have the same warm eyes and full cheeks? will his hands still fit in yours? his feet still step in time with yours? will he look the same, sound the same even? you swallow down this fear, and instead bask in the joy that he’s alive. your husband is alive. and nothing separates you. not a season, nor a wood. not time or conflict. only your fears.

and then they don’t. when you pull back the veil, nothing separates you but air. a soft man made gust as you reveal the man you’d once called your friend, only to call your betrothed and then yours. the fire barely lights the room yet still he glows. he lies bare from the waist up, his abdomen bandaged in rolls of cotton, his chest exposed. you watch it, the slow rise and fall of the place you longed to rest your head, you dreamt of dreaming on. before you realise, you have lowered yourself beside him, careful not to disturb him, nor his wound. before you can call for him he smiles. even in his state of slumber, he leans into your touch. before you meet his eyes, you feel his on you.

“you came.” he whispers, a heavy breath of relief escaping him as your thumb dusts his cheek.

“of course,” you try, before taking your lip between your teeth, fearful your tears might dampen his skin. you kneel at his side, carefully ridding yourself of your outer garments, before returning your hand to his cheek. “how do you feel?”

“now?” he smirks, wincing as a laugh runs through him. “wonderful.”

“and before?”

“so, so.” he murmurs with a kiss to your palm. “a sword to the stomach will do that to you.”

“do i have han jisung to thank for that?”

“no,” he coughs, recalling his sacrifice. “only me.”

“well that’s good,” you hum, employing the upmost care when leaning over him. “because i would hate to think my knight was blindsided.”

“never,” his assurance fans your lips, as yours hover over his. “only by you.”

you almost forgot how it felt to kiss him. the feeling only coming in dreams. there was no memory strong enough to conjure the feeling of his lips pressed against yours. the slow melt of tender skin on skin, the warmth, his gentle caress. his kiss is slow, but even in his prime he took his time. his lips close around yours with such timing and precision, ushering a slow burn of desire from the heels of your feet all the way up to the crown of your head. he knew how to expunge pain and fear from you, to free you from your demons, to reinvigorate you. to love you.

he’s weak. in all the worst ways. his body, his will. he raises his hand to your neck, pulling you closer as he presses his tongue between your lips, connecting the muscles with little intent of parting. he swallows around you, drinking you in, keeping that same, slow and teasing pace. only to pull you closer.

“you need your rest,” you pant into his mouth, resting all your weight on your arms as he pulls you back down, pinning your forehead to his.

“no,” he refuses, sweeping his thumb along your jaw. “i need you.” his voice shakes then, unlike him. unlike the man you know. “only you.”

“is that why you called me here?” you tease, silently wiping his tears away, silently reading the fear in his eyes. he begs them away though warms at your easy dispelling. “to use me?”

“my love,” he laughs, ignoring the pain in favour of basking in your smile. “you know i did not call for you.” when you move to argue, he recalls, as if he were there, “‘would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?’”

“i might have been here sooner if-”

“this,” raising his other arm, he gathers your face in his palms, “is soon enough.”

safe.

“okay.” you agree, allowing him to tug you closer once more. you let him kiss you without restraint. you let him curl his fingers into your neck, ignoring his wincing and kiss him through it. you let his grunts mask his pain, his teeth rolling your lip between the rows, you let him share it. you let him have you, because despite the odds he stayed alive. he stayed alive for you. and that was enough. “i love you.”

he blinks up at your shining eyes, guiding your wet cheeks to his puckered lips. “i love you,” he whispers back against your lips, feeling himself heal at just the touch of your hand. “only you.”

because only a season separated you. but now, not even a season could.

[thefundiesims]

Puerto Llamante Marketplace, Selvadorada 12:17 pm

Hey guys, Summer here with another mission trip update. The sweet kiddos here in Selvadorada are really tugging on my heartstrings! It has been such a blessing from the Watcher above just to get to love on these babies.

Children’s minds are especially receptive to learning about the gospel! Even though Travis and I didn’t bother to learn 𝓢𝓲𝓶 𝓢𝓹𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓱 before coming out here, it’s still not too hard to communicate.

Y’all, these kids live in total darkness and desolation. They live in such a broken, Watcherless state of being. I literally can’t imagine how horrible it must be. They don’t even have a Holy Cow Burger here! For one whole week, we’re going to have the chance to change their entire lives.

It may not be “politically correct” of me, but I’d like to share one of my all-time favorite poems about the importance of missionary work: The Watcher’s Burden.

Take up the Watcher’s burden— Send forth the best ye breed— Go send your sons to exile To serve your captives' need

To wait in heavy harness On fluttered folk and wild— Your new-caught, sullen peoples, Half devil and half child

The cry of hosts ye humour (Ah slowly) to the light: "Why brought ye us from bondage, “Our Selvadoradan night?”

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

I wonder at what age can a Jedi be allowed to leave the Order? Like, obviously a full grown Knight/Master can do it (Lost Twenty), Obi-Wan and Anakin were considering it as Padawans, but what if, hypothetically, and Initiate/Youngling wanted to go back to their bio family? Leaving is not a decision to be made lightly, but kids don't have that maturity/thought process developed yet. Would anyone even take them seriously over, say, a bout of intense homesickness? Or is that considered attachment?

I think it would depend from case to case. We don’t have all that much to go on from, but I’ll try my best to answer.

I’m not taking into account the JA books (because they aren’t canon, haven’t been canon in ages and imo Watson and Wolverton had no business creating so much worldbuilding when Lucas wasn’t done with the PT yet) or any other Legends stuff, because it can be contradictory, confusing, and it often doesn’t reflect creator intent for the movies and TCW. 

So, let’s see: Ahsoka’s choice is respected even though she’s only 16 or 17, with s7 and the unreleased crystal arc really emphasizing that it was her decision as a young adult trying to find her way. In s2, Obi-Wan states that he would have left the Order for Satine had she asked, when he was only about 16 at the end of the Mandalore mission. Maybe he would have had to wait a few years? Maybe the Masters would have first talked with him for some time, to try and understand if it was really what he wanted? But he would have been able to leave. In s6, when he talks with Anakin about Padmé and Clovis, he says again that acting upon one’s feelings is a matter of personal decision, so it’s not like he and Satine couldn’t be together because he was forced to stay. He says he chose to stay. 

So clearly, Jedi teenagers are considered mature enough by the Order to understand what they want in life. 

As for the Younglings, hmm... Several key things here. 

One, the Order doesn’t disapprove of wanting to connect to one’s birth culture. (Evidenced by the very diverse clothing, Barriss’ Mirialan prayer statue, Ahsoka and Shaak Ti’s headdresses, this long post on Jedi views on blood families, Byph and Gungi speaking only their native languages instead of Basic, etc etc...) So I think Jedi kids experiencing serious homesickness would be encouraged to connect with their heritage to try and understand if it’s really what they are looking for. 

Two, it’s implied that even little children have some say in whether or not they become Jedi in the first place. When Plo finds Ahsoka, we see him holding out his hand and waiting for her to take it while the Togruta adults stay back. They don’t just drop her into his arms and wave bye-bye. The Rodian child in the Holocron Arc in s2 is shown to be super precocious - super eagerly floating toys around when Anakin himself didn’t display fine telekinesis when he was untrained - and he is in a transitory period. His mother has met with Jedi before, but says he’s still in her care “for some time.” That might indicate there’s still time for a change of plans. In the newest Mandalorian episode, Ahsoka tells Din that Grogu will be the one to decide his path, even though he’s a toddler. Similarly, Qui-Gon asks both Shmi and Anakin before taking him to the Temple. 

Three, we have no idea if there is such a thing as “being a minor” in the Galaxy, tbh. It would vary between species, obviously, and probably between planets. I mean, Padmé was Queen at 14, and her handmaidens/bodyguards were her age. Leia was involved in politics at 15. Jedi Padawans were considered mature enough to teach academic subjects - like politics - to kids older than they were (see Ahsoka being asked to teach older Mandalorian teenagers at age 14) and mature enough to be Commanders within a very strict chain of command. 

From what we see in AotC and TCW, it’s never in line with Jedi teachings to just dismiss any kid’s thought process as “too immature.” Yoda values the little children’s contributions in AotC, and in Lightsaber Lost (TCW s2) Jocasta and Tera Sinube respect Ahsoka’s decision not to go to Anakin about her lightsaber - and they help her figure it out by herself and grow. And while Aayla forces her to come along and leave Anakin behind in Jedi Crash (TCW s2) she does take the time to explain to her why it’s important, Ahsoka does choose to obey, and they do have a very serious talk about it as they walk. Luminara does dismiss Ahsoka as inexperienced in s1ep9, before fighting Ventress, and then takes it back and apologizes. Obi-Wan frequently asks Anakin and Ahsoka their opinion, and even lets them make the plans. In Yoda’s vision meant to tempt him with his deepest desire, he sees Katooni (who is like 11, maybe?) as his guiding figure. Younglings go alone in the caves of Ilum and Yoda trusts them to understand that his warning about being trapped was just a trick - he doesn’t want them to take everything he says as gospel, he wants them to think, and he praises 12-year-old Petro for just breaking the ice door. Throughout canon, we see that Jedi see children as people, with a mind of their own and the ability to understand what’s going on around them and make informed decisions. 

Based on all of that, I think that younglings wanting to leave would be taken seriously. I think it would be extraordinarily rare (because as I’ll show once I finally manage to finish that analysis of the Ilum arc, Jedi kids appear to love their lifestyle and their community, and to be emotionally healthy), but it might happen - and I think the Masters would really take the time to talk with them, try to understand why, and provide them with solutions - and possibly help them return to their birth families, if that’s what they decided in the end. 

About the attachment thing, I have another meta in the works that’s been sitting in my drafts for months x) And it shows that the Jedi aren’t paranoid about it, merely cautious. Attachment (which is very different from love or healthy connections to other people and/or a culture) is a very really danger for psychic people so vulnerable to their emotions, but Jedi don’t spend their days scrutinizing every single aspects of their relationships and their intentions trying to determine if there’s even the faintest shadow of attachment lurking behind. It’s not some frightening taboo thing. They discuss it freely (again, Aayla and Ahsoka in s2). If a kid was attached to his birth family and wanted to go back, then all the more reason to seriously consider his opinion and let him go. (Just like with Grogu and Din). Because the path of a Jedi isn’t for everyone, and that’s perfectly okay.

Anyway, hope that’s good enough of an answer. I know there are older asks in my inbox I haven’t answered yet, sorry. I promise I’m working on them. 

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

You know what? I had typed up a super long answer, but there's no point and I have no interest in making you change your mind about Roger and his "activism" and Ratty's book, so I won't send it. I have something to say about stan behaviour, though, but I'll try to be brief. Basically, it seems a bit unfair that you think Roger's stans are basically deluded for admiring him, not because I think he should be admired (that's totally your call) but because stans gotta stan, you know? That's basically in their job description lmao I know it's not very nuanced, but whose stans are? When you have some of Brian's stans justifying, even praising his reverse racism complaints from a few years ago or that statement about BLM he made on IG, because they think everything that comes out of his mouth is pure gold (and he even apologised for the BLM thing and clarified what he meant, because he's a good human! But some stans still said he was pressured into apologising), when you have some of John's stans claim that his statement on homosexuality in that Japanese interview was actually progressive for the time, is it really that bad when some Roger stans project their own modern political views on him? Like, I've seen people gushing over Brian wearing a pride pin that was actually one of his common decency pin (that was pretty funny), so Roger's stans aren't really alone in this lmao. Again, this is typical stan behaviour. As long as it doesn't harm anyone I don't see a problem with it. I could say more, however I promised I wouldn't try to suggest you change your mind, and I also very much failed at being brief, so I'm going to stop here. Bye!

Listen, anon, I’m not sure if I’ve said anything to suggest that I approve of stans of the other band members misrepresenting their behavior or politics, especially when I’ve made posts calling this out with people projecting their politics onto Freddie, and I talked about Brian’s tone deaf comments and the stan reactions quite a lot at the time. My making one post about Roger stans doesn’t mean I think this is exclusive to them. I only made the post because I’ve never seen anyone else talk about this on here. Nowhere did I say stans are deluded for admiring him. That’s nothing but an exaggeration. I’m saying people are being dishonest about his politics. Big difference!

No, sorry, but people can be big fans of someone without being dishonest about their politics. “Stans gotta stan” is a poor excuse. Being a stan is a choice lol, it’s not a job. If people can’t cope with their faves not having their exact political views to the point where they project their own politics onto them, that’s their problem, and it’s immature. Brian stans can, indeed, be guilty of this too by acting like everything he says is the gospel of the Lord. I think he’s a good man who tries his best to be kind, but he fucks up from time to time due to just how much he’s in the public eye (compared to Roger) and his tendency to speak first, think later when he gets fired up about things. That’s a negative trait and I’m fine with admitting that. But Roger has said weird shit too (like saying some of the lyrics on a song on Outsider weren’t “very #metoo”? Whatever the fuck that means) but people don’t criticize him at all because they point to his generic political statements as a forever trump card. This also becomes a problem when, for example, Roger stans get up on a high horse like “our fave would never 💅☕️” when Brian says something dumb, because it tells me they’re not as invested in these social issues as they are in stanning. It goes the other way around too, with them ignoring or downplaying Brian’s actual HIV advocacy—which went beyond wearing a Pride pin, mind you—because he’s not their fave (sorry but Roger has literally never been an activist on anything; activism or even advocacy are more than making vague public statements over the years). Just to clarify real quick: I’m only comparing Roger and Brian specifically because, well, they’re the only ones still making public statements over the past 30 years lol.

Typical stan behavior often isn’t a good thing lol. There’s a reason why “stan” has such negative connotations and origins.

[jyndor]

You know, the conversation about sea shanties is just another chapter in what seems like the endless story of people of color, in particular black and indigenous people, telling us to learn the history of the things we like and white people hearing that it means we have to lock those things away forever and burn our books and stamp on our records. As if that isn’t what white people have done to black and indigenous stories, to black and indigenous cultures, to black and indigenous arts, wealth, etc for centuries. As if that is what the people of color who are educating us on the things we like are actually advocating for. News flash: part of the history of oppressors is fearing the tables turning, when that is never been the goal of civil rights and social justice movements. Ever.

So fun fact: I grew up loving good ol’ classic rock n’ roll. My first concert was the Allman Brothers Band, which is one of the most interesting rock bands of all time imo. I really love a good southern twangy jam, the way the guitars sing, the bluesy sunny vibe. Ramblin’ Man? Jessica? Simple Man? Carry On Wayward Son? Hotel California? Perfect fucking driving music if you ask me.

If you know anything about southern rock, you know the iconography - the Confederate Flag is everywhere, in the crowds, for many bands it’s in the album covers and the photoshoots, etc. You know what you get when you wade in the Southern rock water*.

The lyrics from Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Sweet Home Alabama have been parsed and interpreted in all kinds of ways -

In Birmingham they love the governor (boo-boo-boo) Now we all did what we could do Now Watergate does not bother me Does your conscience bother you?

And yeah, you could read this as ironic or satirical. In fact, that’s what guitarist and co-writer Gary Rossington says according to NPR -

"A lot of people believed in segregation and all that. We didn't. We put the 'boo, boo, boo' there saying, 'We don't like Wallace,' " Rossington said. But he also added that there were "a lot of different interpretations. I'm sure if you asked the other guys who are not with us anymore and are up in rock and roll heaven, they have their story of how it came about."

And yeah, maybe they didn’t like George Wallace or Nixon. Sure. Whatever. I could buy it, actually. Because this song actually is indicative of how many privileged people feel when they perceive being called out, even if the criticism isn’t about them. Call it wjhat you want - white fragility, white liberal sensitivity, etc. This song was written in response to Neil Young’s Southern Man, which goes:

Southern man, better keep your head Don't forget what your good book said Southern change gonna come at last Now your crosses are burning fast

Southern man I saw cotton and I saw black Tall white mansions and little shacks Southern man, when will you pay them back? I heard screamin' and bullwhips cracking How long? How long? How?

Yeah, writer Ronnie Van Zant was so bothered by Neil Young talking about l*nchings, abject sl*very and reparations in Southern Man, a song that isn’t even about them or Alabama in particular, that he wrote Sweet Home Alabama.

Well I heard Mister Young sing about her Well I heard ol' Neil put her down Well I hope Neil Young will remember A southern man don't need him around anyhow

Sweet home Alabama Where the skies are so blue Sweet home Alabama Lord I'm comin' home to you 

So ironically, even though Neil Young was just talking to racists in the US South, someone who ostensibly didn’t agree with segregation took that song as a personal attack because he liked “southern culture” and his home state of Alabama, despite its flaws.

But Young never says that the South is irredeemable. He just says white southerners need to come to terms with their history (and yes make reparations). In fact, according to NPR he has some issues with his lyrics. “I didn't like my words when I wrote them. They are accusatory and condescending.” I don’t agree. It needs to be said.

So Van Zant and the Skynyrd guys heard a criticism of white Southern racism and at BEST thought, “well that’s an unfair portrayal of me, a southern white man.” Van Zant can’t answer this question for himself since he died in a plane crash with two other band members and their manager in 1977.

In my opinion, knowing how white people can be when confronted with the reality of racism, this feels a lot like every other time a well-meaning white person (myself included) has said, “but not all white people.”

Not all Southern whites supported segregation at the time, but most did - and all white people benefit from the legacy of sl*very. I might not be a descendant of people who enslaved others, my ancestors might have come here as refugees, but after they fled Ireland for New York, they threw black people under the bus for whiteness.

Rock is a genre that owes everything to Black musicians - to blues and spirituals and gospel and yes, Black work songs. Black history is in the DNA of rock music. That I grew up thinking it was white music is mortifying to be honest.

But I don’t really like Sweet Home Alabama and I never have. It’s kind of just meh to me. Not a big loss.

And that takes me to the Allman Brothers Band. As far as I am aware, ABB (through many, many iterations - this is another band plagued by tragedy) has never been cool with racism. According to Vulture:

The Allmans respected not just black art but black players; as kids, Gregg and Duane got lessons from an older black guitarist their mother once refused to allow into her home, and later, they caught hell having Jaimoe and bassist Lamar Williams in their ranks in their adopted home state of Georgia. “If a musician could play, we didn’t look at his skin color,” Gregg wrote in his 2012 memoir My Cross to Bear.

“Nobody around here had seen guys who looked like them,” soul food legend and friend of the band Mama Louise Hudson said in Alan Paul’s 2014 oral history One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. “A lot of the white folk around here did not approve of them long-haired boys, or of them always having a black guy with them.” Southern rock occupied a peculiar axis of Mason-Dixon pride and reverence to blues and soul veterans who were hampered and harangued by the politics of the South. Gregg always pushed back. He didn’t placate audiences’ blind patriotism and racism the way Charlie Daniels and Hank Williams Jr. have. Last year, he spoke out against North Carolina’s transphobic “bathroom bill,” and when asked about the confederate flag in 2015, he told Radio.com, “If people are gonna look at that flag and think of it as representing slavery, then I say burn every one of them.”

And that is great.

But.

Whipping Post. Written by white ally Gregg Allman, bluesy and wild and passionate on a level that is hard to imagine, this is... one of the greatest songs I have ever heard. And it also makes me wonder if it’s maybe belittling a part of slavery.

My friends tell me, that I've been such a fool But I had to stand by and take it baby, all for lovin' you I drown myself in sorrow as I look at what you've done But nothing seemed to change, the bad times stayed the same, And I can't run Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel Like I been tied to the whippin' post Tied to the whippin' post, tied to the whippin' post Good Lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.

Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve researched it, I’ve used google. There isn’t a lot the internet has to say about this song that isn’t “this song fucking slaps man!!!” Maybe part of it is the larger context - Allman was staunchly against racism and was taught by a Black guitarist and played with Black musicians and loved Black music. A white man comparing an emotionally abusive relationship with being whipped might feel different without that context.

(Whipping posts being used for people besides enslaved Black people does not mean Allman wasn’t referencing what Black American slaves experienced, so don’t even go there. I know. The Romans also had slaves. It’s different.)

But if some people of color on the internet critique this song someday, the appropriate response is not to act as if “hey here is where this comes from, please be mindful about historical context and get educated” means “never listen to that devil song again,” folks.

It’s about learning our histories so we can do better in the future. Not canceling entire genres of music. Some things are best left in the past but mostly it’s just about understanding what the things we love mean. And these things are more than their aesthetics.

*I also really, really love African American work songs. Always have.

[bobdylanrevisited]

Desire

Released: 5 January 1976

Rating: 10/10

Bob Dylan is a mayfly. He lives for a day and dies, only to return the next as a new being. Nowhere is this more evident that on this album, released a year after ‘Blood On The Tracks’. Gone are the bluesy guitars and country overtones, now it’s all carnival crescendos and adventure movie plots. This is an album made up of four individuals, the first obviously being Bob, who’s voice is astonishing. Then we have Jaques Levy, a playwright who co-wrote most of the tracks and clearly helped with the narrative on many of the best songs. Then there’s Emmylou Harris, an incredible artist in her own right, who effortlessly provides backing vocals and blends with Bob just as well as Joan Baez did. Finally, we have the star of the show, Scarlet Rivera. A violinist who Bob saw on the street one day, her addition to the recording band is magical, and this album is elevated to a new realm almost solely due to her. Between the recording and the release of this record, Bob began touring small venues in America with his gypsy travelling band as the Rolling Thunder Revue (RTR), and this mad tour is captured in the Martin Scorsese Netflix documentary of the same name. The performances of Bob caked in white paint are unmissable, as is this album, which is often overlooked in the Dylan pantheon, but is deserving of a place on the list of greatest albums ever made.

1) Hurricane - The return of Bob ‘I Don’t Sing Protest Songs’ Dylan. This is not only an epic retelling of the horrific events that lead to Ruben Carter’s wrongful arrest, but it’s also the perfect way to showcase the unique sound achieved on this album. Scarlet’s violin is the perfect accompaniment to Dylan’s voice, which sounds better than ever here. It’s a brilliant track and is always nice to be reminded that, despite his own hatred of the label, Bob was still a huge figure in the civil rights movement. The live footage of him singing the song in 1975 is spellbinding, and you can tell how much Ruben’s story means to him.

2) Isis - Fucking hell, no one tells a story like Dylan. Hot off the heels of a true story of injustice comes this bizarre fiction about death and adventure. I won’t begin to sum up the twists and turns Dylan narrates, just know that you hang on his every word as he paints masterful characters and scenes, whilst his backing band are in full force conjuring up mystical locations and exotic sounds. As with most of this album, the live RTR performance is a must watch, if only to see Dylan acting out the story with a madness in his eyes and some hilarious dance moves.

3) Mozambique - Apparently, this song came about as a bet to see how many words would rhyme with the titular country, and therefore the song is light and cheerful. Whilst the lyrics do have romantic imagery and political undertones, it is largely a throwaway tune that is still always fun to listen to.

4) One More Cup Of Coffee - The best song on the album, and perhaps Dylan’s best ever vocal performance, with beautiful harmonies with Emmylou Harris. A dark love song that makes you feel both spellbound and uneasy, it’s just pure magic that can be listened to on repeat, with Scarlet’s violin being the star of the show. Again, the RTR performance is among the finest things Bob has ever done.

5) Oh, Sister - This song is about Joan Baez, I don’t care what anyone else says. It’s a touching sentiment about their friendship, and the mystical, biblical imagery fits perfectly with the rousing music. Emmylou’s backing vocals are gorgeous and the whole song works perfectly together, particularly when performed live on the RTR.

6) Joey - This is a weird song. I love the music, the singing, everything about it except for the lyrics. Critic Lester Bangs described this deification of mobster Joey Gallo as ‘repellent romanticist bullshit’ and it’s hard to disagree. Bob’s story has changed over the year, he’s defended the song and Gallo, as well as stating that Jaques Levy wrote the words. Either way, it is easily my worst song on the album as I find it uncomfortable to listen to, which is unfortunate as all the components are there, I just can get onboard with the worship of a murderer.

7) Romance In Durango - A sprawling story set in Mexico with vivid imagery and Spanish tongues, this song really captures the whole mood of the album. The instrumentation is perfect, it’s a brilliant troubadour number that is both incredibly unique and also quintessentially Dylan: a bit strange yet always fresh and invigorating. The RTR version is one of Dylan’s best ever live performances and the energy is infectious.

8) Black Diamond Bay - Much like track 2, another song that tells a fantastical story that rivals the greatest writers in fiction. Like the album as a whole, all of the individual elements work seamlessly here to create a wondrous tune. It’s a song that doesn’t get enough praise, which shows just how amazing this period of Dylan’s work is, as for any other artist this would likely be their masterpiece. Yet for Bob, it’s just an album track tucked away towards the end.

9) Sara - The closing track is heartbreaking, Bob’s last ditch attempt to win back his wife. Of course it was too little too late and the marriage was irreparable, though Bob did play it for Sara during the recording sessions and it was understandably emotional. The song is a sequel to ‘Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands’ at the end of the their relationship 10 years later. It’s both sweet and sad, with Bob sounding pained and the music sweeping over the track with raw emotion. He rarely lays himself bare like this and you can feel his desperation pouring out of the speakers. It’s a depressing note for the record to end on, but it’s an important moment in the history of Bob’s personal life.

Verdict: A masterpiece, plain and simple. The music is original, the songs are interesting, and the vocals are inspired. No other artist could follow up ‘Blood On The Tracks’ with an album that’s almost equally as perfect, yet Bob does it with ease whilst also completely changing his sound. My one complaint is again with Bob’s song choice. Listen to the studio outtake ‘Abandoned Love’, it is mind boggling that a song as genius as that was left of the album, yet ‘Joey’ was still included. In spite of this, I will never tire of this album and it holds a special place in my heart as it’s also my fiancé’s favourite Dylan era. Going forward, after the Rolling Thunder Review, Bob’s divorce was finalised and his attention would begin to turn to a higher power. Whilst he wouldn’t be born again for another 3 years, his next album began to embrace the gospel sound and sent Bob on an unexpected path.

[maticide666]

my eurovision top 39 songs (finally)

anyway i finally got my top 39 completed. under a read more because it can get kinda long with the commentary i added klfdja;sflk (and by that i mean VERY long, maybe a wall of text if i have a lot to say about the song.)

none of this takes rehearsals into account.

basically, 39-37 i don't like, 36-35 are meh, 34-25 are decent, 24-18 are good, 17-12 i enjoy listening to a lot, 11-4 i love, and I would pay for votes for top 3 if i could.

39. Azerbaijan - Efendi - Mata Hari - Honestly, I kinda want to like this song. The instrumentation is nice, especially with the Azeri instruments. Efendi's vocals are ok during the verses. However, her vocals during the MA-MA-MA-MATA HARI part makes this song utterly unlistenable for me. It is just so distracting and ear-grating. Not great for my sensitive ears. And that is without taking anything else into account.

38. Estonia - Uku Suviste - The Lucky One - For some reason reminds me of a boring modern country song. Bland af. At least the melody of the chorus is nice.

37. Cyprus - Elena Tsagrinou - El Diablo - Discount Lady Gaga at the best points of this song. Feels like three songs at once. Also, the lyrics seem like they just went all "What Spanish-sounding words sound spicy? Taco? Tamale? Mamacita?" As a Spanish speaker and as someone of Mexican descent who enjoys those foods, this annoys the living shit out of me. At least I can make El Diablo/Fallen Angel memes out of this. (Honestly, I don't mind the gratuitous Spanish with the words El Diablo.) Also, this song got real old real quick.

36. Slovenia - Ana Soklič - Amen - The gospel vibe is nice, but there is just too much Christianity in it for me to enjoy this song. Sorry, Ana.

35. Moldova - Natalia Gordienko - Sugar - Sounds like a sugary version of Siren Song by MARUV. Kinda boring, but enjoyable in the right circumstances.

34. Georgia - Tornike Kipiani - You - Good to listen to when mind feels blank. At first I kinda liked this song, but nowadays this song has lost its charm. This won't sound out of place alongside boring 70s slow classic rock songs.

33. Austria - Vincent Bueno - Amen - Not something I would listen to regularly, but still nice. For me, easily the biggest downgrade from 2020.

32. Greece - Stefania - Last Dance - Pleasant to listen to, not much else.

31. Portugal - The Black Mamba - Love Is On My Side - Good song, but not my cup of tea. Unfortunately, some great songs have to be near the bottom of my ranking.

30. Germany - Jendrik - I Don't Feel Hate - A fun song to listen to. The novelty wears off after a while. The feel good vibes and ukulele are nice.

29. Israel - Eden Alene - Set Me Free - the song release version was bland and boring, but the revamp. Now THAT is good stuff. The song doesn't seem so empty anymore. I miss the key change from the original, though.

28. Spain - Blas Cantó - Voy A Quedarme - A very emotional and beautiful song from Spain. Again, not usually my cup of tea. However, the melody somehow gives me a nostalgic vibe.

27. North Macedonia - Vasil - Here I Stand - DAMN Vasil has a lovely voice. Nice that he's showing it off here. Too slow of a song for me to enjoy regularly, though.

26. Albania - Anxhela Peristeri - Karma - I don't have much to say other than this song is nice.

25. Bulgaria - VICTORIA - Growing Up Is Getting Old - Pleasant to listen to, but depending on my mood I think this is a beautiful song but not my cup of tea or a complete snoozefest.

24. Serbia - Hurricane - Loco Loco - Fun song, but it feels like something is lacking, and I can't quite put my finger on it.

23. San Marino - Senhit - Adrenalina - Once the initial hype from Flo Rida being on the song died down, this became another typical Eurovision bop.

22. Sweden - Tusse - Voices - At first I thought the song was completely unremarkable and couldn't understand how this won Melodifestivalen. Nowadays it's a nice song to chill to. I gotta respect a perfect televote score from the national final.

21. Ireland - Lesley Roy - MAPS - nice.

20. Croatia - Albina - Tick Tock - Grew on me slightly. Shoutout for including a verse in Croatian.

19. Switzerland - Gjon's Tears - Tout l'Univers - Another grower for me. Doesn't hit as hard as his song from last year, but I dig it.

18. France - Barbara Pravi - Voilà - Lovely chanson right here. I wish it didn't take forever to pick up, though. I was about to completely give up on this song in the middle of my first listen. I'm glad I didn't.

17. Belgium - Hooverphonic - The Wrong Place - Classy. Not much else to say.

16. Ukraine - Go-A - Shum - I'd definitely go rave to this song. I kept finding this song hard to rank due to the white voice. I couldn't decide if I absolutely adored it or if I found it grating. Maybe I just wasn't feeling well when I first thought about it.

15. Lithuania - The Roop - Discoteque - Lots of fun, doesn't have the charm that On Fire had last year. I would dance to this song.

14. Poland - RAFAŁ - The Ride - I actually kinda like this song???? Even with Rafal's vocals??? I know he has political controversies, but I can't help but think this song is nice. A better, less controversial singer would benefit this song, though. I'm not counting the revamp just yet since it was released too recently.

13. Latvia - Samanta Tīna - The Moon Is Rising - This song gives me nostalgic mid to late 2000s hip hop vibes. The guitars in this song are lovely.

12. Romania - ROXEN - Amnesia - Definitely something that can put me in a trance if I'm in the right mood.

11. Czechia - Benny Cristo - omaga - Nice, catchy, I would dance to this.

10. Malta - Destiny - Je Me Casse - Damn, Destiny has a lovely voice! And the song itself is wonderful. I'm not a fan of the amount of Swedish talent being used instead of Maltese talent, but I really do enjoy listening to this.

9. Denmark - Fyr og Flamme - Øve Os På Hinanden - another really fun song! This really grew on me. Nowadays if I want to listen to a Eurovision song, this is one of the first songs I think of.

8. The Netherlands - Jeangu Macrooy - Birth of a New Age - I can vibe with this. You can hear the passion in this song. I wish I could let my body do the talking right now, but y'all can't see that with just a tumblr text post.

7. Russia - Manizha - Russian Woman - I was NOT expecting this to come out of Russia when it won the national final. I wasn't expecting to like this either. The message is great, the instrumental is great, everything about this is brilliant.

6. United Kingdom - James Newman - Embers - A funky song. I LOVE James's voice. Massive upgrade from last year in my opinion. I'm a sucker for brass in an upbeat song. Unfortunately, I have had the staging kinda spoiled and I am VERY skeptical about this coming out of bottom five. I'm done with the BBC.

5. Australia - Montaigne - Technicolour - There is a Lot happening in this song and I am all in for it. I'm kinda terrible at parsing lyrics, but it's a non-issue when I can follow Montaigne's voice and forget about the lyrics. Ironically enough, it's Montaigne's voice that also worries me this Eurovision season - mostly whether she was able to pull off her live on tape performance off.

4. Iceland - Daði og Gagnamagnið - 10 Years - I didn't think Daði could pull it off against this year, but he did it. I like this just a little more than Think About Things, which was my favorite song last year. I'm still a little gutted that this pandemic robbed him of a probable victory, but I've made peace with it. I still need to learn the dance moves, though.

3. Italy - Måneskin - Zitti E Buoni - FUCK YEAH A KICKASS ROCK SONG IN EUROVISION! This song gave me massive rock en español vibes on my fist listen, and honestly this is something I would bang my head to if I had the same body I did when I was 15.

2. Norway - TIX - Fallen Angel - I was not expecting to like this song much, let alone becoming THIS obsessed with TIX. In fact, he wasn't even on my radar for winning MGP. I listened to Ut Av Mørket for the first time and thought something like 'this is boring af, but at least it's in Norwegian'. And then he changed it to English, which I wasn't a fan of at first. And then one day the lyrics clicked - especially with my own struggles with mental illness. To this day this is one of only two Eurovision songs to actually make me cry. Even now he still isn't my MGP winner (that honor goes to JORN), but he has definitely won my heart.

1. Finland - Blind Channel - Dark Side - To say that this song kicks ass would be an understatement for me. This song has just the right mix of rock, pop, and even metal. Ever since I found out that this song would be in the national final, I knew that it would be my favorite this whole Eurovision season regardless of who won UMK. Yes, my jaw dropped when I saw the lead Blind Channel had in UMK. I literally cancelled my plans to watch the MGP final live because of these guys. I am not disappointed. Even Måneskin couldn't bring these guys down in my ranking. And while the lyrics might be a bit iffy, they did get me through rough times. I hope these guys are able to bring rock music back like they want to. But for now, I will give them my (useless tbh) douze points.

[whosxafraid]

Borrowed Writing Prompt Meme Day 30 : Snake Verse: Traveling Soldier || Military AU [ Closed ] Featured: @tarnishedhalo​ PSA: i mean no disrespect to anyone that falls under certain demographics/belief structures put forth in the following drabble.  Please bear in mind as you read that to the victor go the spoils (and the way ‘officially’ written history is shaped).

        “...So hand to God, no more fuckin' snakes. All of 'em drownt or somethin'. So drink up for ol' Paddy, cause'a him, we're free.”

He’s sat quiet for the story. Mates all around him. Nursing another pint after the last round of Irish Carbombs. Personal opinion kept to himself over that one because American as his papers and his colors prove--he remembers. Just old enough to have a few memories of his own about it too. But for the sake of company and the little beauty helping the other mots pick a playlist from the box in the corner---he held his tongue. Drowned it in the offensively named drink and moved on. But then---

Then Riley had to go all old country. Like he’d actually squeezed Irish soil between his toes with his first steps. And maybe Riley did do just that but in the moment the sentiment rings true in Luka’s head .  So for a very real moment, the SEAL actually tries to count back just how many deep they are. How drunk this asshole had to be to think this was a good decision. Like anyone would want to hear the story. Even if it is Saint Paddy’s Day. Which is most certainly is--because he’d had to make a point of it to the waiter...no.green.beer. A pint was meant to be black and black it would be if it wanted to get anywhere passed his lips.

Still when the story began half a sennight ago--or so it felt--Luka’s liquor lagged brain hadn’t entirely caught on. Thought the PJ was just talking to talk, because let no one ever claim the man did not distinctly enjoy the sound of his own voice. So much so Luka has to wonder how someone has quiet and polite as Beth is, ever got a word in edge wise. But once the story points started to click, the rest of the pub had been filtered out. Only Riley and his ever so “historically accurate” tale being spun. The others around him listening with only the level of avid interest too much alcohol could grant. Too much alcohol that O'Rìan was downing every time a nerve got hit. And later maybe he’ll realize it was a personal drinking game. 

Every time the idjit gets it wrong take a drink.

A drinking game that had become ever so required, ever so very quickly. Green trained on the half pint across the table with a mix of disbelief how terrible his sources were and sheer iron will keeping him from disrupting the entire thing with what really happened. Drink after drink until there’s next to nothing left in his glass. Perfectly proportioned to get him through the And this is why he gets his own special day. Though a moment later just a little more might have saved him from lashing out where he should have swallowed.

          So das why you got all honte like a 'tite femme walkin' into a web when ya found pauvre ti bete in da shower?

A round of laughing at the joke Gorilla makes at his expense. It doesn’t rile his pride like it should. Mostly because he’s too aggravated over the second offense of the night. The first being those fecking mixers, the latter people spreading only one side to the story like its gospel. And while it shouldn’t have been what he said--it very rabidly became what he did say--before glass drags off wood and he goes looking for another pint of untainted black.

        "Metaphorically...it actually were a morality tale about how ta priests an’ ta English fecked us over. Ne’er had snakes in Oi’reland d’at dinna come knockin’ uninvoi’ted.  Nó an bhfuil do chuid fola beagáinín caolaithe chun an cac sin a mheabhrú ?"