#shes just very blunt. and shes spent years being a mean girl and openly pointing out whatever flaws she observes

[lollytea]

Amity: "I guess it just didn't ever occur to me that anyone could be attracted to Hunter ... wait fuck that sounds mean when I say it out loud. I DON'T MEAN THAT TO BE MEAN!"

Willow: Amity!!

Hunter: It's fine. It also never occurred to me that anyone could be attracted to Hunter.

Willow: Hunter!!

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | Drabble 3

Okay so...this is set the day after the MC meets Hoseok’s parents and is from Hoseok’s POV! So...it’s 2.3k so a bit of a long drabble (especially given how short the chapters of Flower are) but I suppose you’ll enjoy it. Please reblog if you liked it and leave me comments about what you thought about another venture into our leading man’s head!

You get to find out a bit more about Hoseok, his mindset, his past and his relationship with his mom here :D

This isn’t proof read at all btw lol

-

Hoseok watches his mom carefully as she makes her way round the kitchen, the ingredients for her banana nutella pancakes laid out before her as she prepares to make him breakfast. It’s the day after he’d introduced you to them for the first time and you’re still upstairs, fast asleep in the double bed that had been his since he was sixteen.

Unsurprisingly, he’d gotten up long before you had. Over the course of your relationship so far, Hoseok had discovered that you could sleep forever if allowed whereas he quite liked to be up and about in the morning. Which was why he was up at only 8am on this fine Sunday morning.

Neither of you had intended to stay the night but by the time the movie you’d all been watching had finished, you’d been fast asleep against him and he’d been loath to make you wake up to travel all the way back to yours. So instead, with the permission of his parents, he’d taken you upstairs and carefully tucked you into bed before curling up beside you.

At the moment though, it was only him and his mom awake which was why she was indulging him with his childhood favourite. Licking at his lips, he takes a sip of the sweet, fresh apple juice and sighs softly to himself. There’s a lot of times he wishes he could go back and fix things with his parents when he’d been an ass to them.

He’d said a lot of things he hadn’t really meant, things that had been hurtful for the sole purpose of being hurtful because he was angry. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience raising him as a teenager and he was aware of that now, aware that he couldn’t change anything but it still made him feel guilty for what he’d put them through.

His parents had loved him despite whatever he’d thrown at them and he was just thankful now that they hadn’t thrown the towel in. That they’d persevered and given him chance after chance. It had taken him a while, but he’d finally opened up and taken that chance after years and now he was determined to not ruin things for them again.

They’d lost one child already, he didn’t want them to lose a second.

“Do you want me to cut them into Power Rangers?” She says suddenly and he realises he’s let his thoughts get away with him. Blinking rapidly, he processes what his mom says before laughing and shaking his head, remembering how she used to cut them for him back then. She’d gotten a special pancake...tin or whatever they were called to make him Power Ranger pancakes.

“I think I’m okay to just eat normal ones now mom. But thanks. Next time I feel like defeating Rita Repulsa, I’ll let you know.” It makes her laugh and he smiles at the sound, realising that you were completely right when you’d teasingly called him a mommy’s boy when you’d found out he called her every other day and talked for hours. You’d meant it in a positive way but it was true all the same.

There wasn’t a lot he wouldn’t do to make his mom happy. Not when he’d spent so long making her sad.

“Well, I’m just checking. You’ve not asked for banatella pancakes in a long time.” She turns round and hands him a plate piled high with pancakes, more cut bananas carefully placed atop the pile of extra Nutella that he loved so much. Banatella had been what he’d nicknamed them when he’d been like...six or something.

Hoseok shrugged, placing the plate down in front of him and picking up his fork. A careful bite has his mouth filly with fluffy, perfectly made pancakes that fill his mouth with sweetness. Humming happily, he tucks in and eats contentedly while his mom cleans up. He wants to protest her making this without making herself anything but she brings a bowl of muesli with fresh strawberries to the table and sits opposite him.

“I wasn’t expecting you both to stay the night.” She says, beginning the conversation as she takes a sip of her coffee. It’s black, like she always has it, and he’s always amazed that she can drink it like that.

“We weren’t gonna, obviously. But she gets tired very easily and gets a teeny bit grumpy if I wake her up. Didn’t think it was worth it.” Shrugging, he eats another mouthful and looks down at his plate.

“I peeked in at you both this morning, I’ll be honest. It was cute though. She was almost sprawled over the top of you.” His mom laughs lightly, her smile bright as she remembers and Hoseok can’t help but laugh in response.

“Yeah...she does that. There’s like zero concept of how to sleep next to someone ‘cos she’s never had to before. I don’t really mind, doesn’t wake me up. Except that time she accidentally punched me in the face in her sleep. Didn’t mean to, but I woke up to a sore jaw and her hand right there.” He snorts at the memory, fingers rubbing at his jaw as he gets a phantom pain.

“I think I’ve done that to your dad a few times so I guess you might expect it a little more.” The conversation dies down a little after that and the two of them just eat, the silence comfortable. But Hoseok has a question burning within him that he’s a little surprised about, a need to check that his mom likes you. That she approves.

He doesn’t want to say it though because he feels a bit stupid acting like that. At almost twenty-nine years old, he doesn’t need his parents approval anymore. But he’s spent a large portion of his life being an asshole to them and never doing anything right. So he has a need to make sure that he’s doing this right.

“You like her, right?” Mentally, he facepalms as he realises that he’s asked the question in the most childish and attention seeking way possible. There was even a little hint of whining in his voice, which he doesn’t even understand because why the hell would be whining about this? Maybe it’s because it’s his mom or something.

She pauses in her eating, looking at him intently and he resists the urge to fidget under her stare. That was a mom stare for sure and he feels like he’s done something bad. Like whenever she caught him smoking weed in his bedroom in high school or that time he’d had to hide a girl in his closet. 

He’d been a wild teenager, he admits this.

“Yes. I like her. And so does your dad. She’s very sweet and kind. A little shy and a little awkward like you said, but...she’s nice. I’ll admit, she’s not what I expected when you announced that you had a girlfriend you’ve been dating for longer than three weeks,” He pulls a face at that. “But I’m glad of that actually. You had some...dubious choices back then.”

“I think you mean that I was chronically allergic to the concept of a relationship and therefore only ever ‘dated’ girls had the same opinion as me.” That was a nice and polite way to put it, he thinks to himself proudly. Better than saying ‘I liked to stick my dick in women who had no expectations of a future’. 

Thinking back, he really was an asshole for years.

“You mean that you slept with women, you didn’t date them?” His mom says dryly, a brow raised in amusement at him as he sputters at her bluntness. Literally, there’s bits of pancakes everywhere now and he’d be embarrassed about that if he wasn’t mortified over the fact his own mother had just openly pointed out that she was highly aware of his previous sex life.

“Mom!” He whines, rubbing at his mouth to make sure there’s no residue and cleaning his lip ring. “Yes. That. we don’t talk about that anymore. That was a different Hoseok. He had...low standards. For everything apparently.”

“Well, I’m glad that you raised them with Y/N. She’s honestly lovely and if you were acting like how you used to act, then I’d say you don’t deserve her. But you’ve changed a lot and it’s very clear that you love her and want to try hard. And she obviously loves you too.” Playing with a piece of banana, he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he considers her words.

He knows you love him. You haven’t told him yet, but he knows. The level of trust and faith you’ve put into him to not hurt you was a little humbling and only part of why he was trying so hard with you. Hoseok’s past was filled with many women, sure, but he honestly believed it was because he’d just never found anyone he’d clicked with and wanted to be in a relationship with.

“This is going to sound incredibly sappy and I kind of want to sink into the floor just thinking the words. But it’s like I met her by pure chance when I wasn’t looking and she’s everything I wanted. I have to work a little, be incredibly understanding and slow with her but...I’ve never found someone that I want to try so hard with before. Even that first date, when I was just going along to give it a try and realised this girl is nothing like any other girl I’ve been with before, I knew that I’d found something worth keeping. She’s just...she’s not perfect. And she’d be the first to tell you that. But it’s like...I’ve never been so fascinated with someone, her mind goes a million miles a minute and I can barely keep up but she comes out with the most random shit and I love it. I don’t know what it is about her but...I found her by accident and I never wanted to let go once I did. God that was really lame, wasn’t it?” He cringes.

His mom is smiling so happily though and he realises that her eyes are glassy, causing him to whine once more as he realises he’s made her cry. Which is ridiculous, why is she crying?

“Why are you crying!” Hoseok protests, a little outraged that his incredibly soft words had made her cry but more worried about the fact he’d made her cry. What had he said to cause this?

“It’s nothing sweetheart,” She says, her voice strained as she reaches forward and grasps his hand. “It’s just...hearing you talk about her. I don’t think you realise just how much you love her really. Your face lights up and you get this smile. I spent a long time thinking that I’d never get to see you this happy, that you’d never settle but you didn’t just find someone to love. Hobi, my baby boy, I know you’ll roll your eyes at me but I really do think you’ve found your soulmate.”

Okay, she’s right. He does want to roll his eyes at her when she says that but he doesn’t. Because he can see how happy she is and how emotional she is to hear that he’s finally found the happiness and stability that he’d obviously been searching for for so long. He’s not an idiot. He recalls his therapy very well and he’s pretty convinced that he never settled for anyone before because he didn’t believe that he should just settle for someone he liked.

His sister never got the chance, so he should make sure that he found the one. Oh god, he’s being just as sappy and romantic as his mom now. She’s putting these thoughts into his head, that has to be it, he thinks to himself. But he doesn’t say it because she looks happy, and that’s all he wants.

“I’m not gonna say that’s cheesy. Okay no, it was definitely cheesy mom. But...I’m not gonna say no either. And I would like it if we could both just forget this conversation ever happened please. I feel very embarrassed right now and I know it’s fine for men to talk about their feelings but there’s talking about their feelings and then there’s talking about their feelings to their mom. I just...as long as you like her.” And now he’s gone awkward, causing his mom to laugh as she picks up his empty plate and places her equally empty bowl on top.

“Hey, hey, I can clean it! You made it, I’ll clean it.” He says insistently, standing to take them from her. But she simply shakes her head and gestures to him.

“Nope. You should go back up and wake her up for breakfast too. It’s fine, I’ve got it. You want to forget the conversation happened? Go bring her down for breakfast. Otherwise she’s going to hear all about how her big, tattooed and pierced boyfriend melted into ice cream talking about her.” He recognises that tone in her voice, the teasing one that’s edged with more than a little sarcasm.

Hoseok recognises it because he does it himself and he locks his jaw at realising he’s been outmaneuvered by his own mother. Not surprising really. She did give birth to him and all. So he does what any dutiful son would do in this moment and backs down at the threat. Before leaving though, he pauses in the kitchen doorway and points to her, eyes narrowed.

“For the record, I’m only going because we’re going somewhere today and she needs to get up. It has nothing to do with me telling you things. If you think it’d embarrass me, you’re totally wrong. I don’t know what woman wouldn’t like to hear that her ‘big, tattooed and pierced boyfriend’ was getting all mushy over them. So ner.” And with that, he does that very adult and mature thing of sticking his tongue out at her before leaving.

His moms laughter is sweet music to his ears as he climbs back up the stairs and he smiles in response.

[chappedandfadedvds]

Nov 26th, Thursday 23:17

„I thought you’d be in bed already?“

Jens had just finished the dishes, ready to head to bed, after he spent hours trying to get all his notes for his french test ready next week. He wasn’t worried that he would fail. Perhaps a little worried.

His mother stood in the doorway to her room, when he reached the last step, causing him to watch her perplexed.

„Me too, but it looks like my side of the bed was taken before I had a chance.“

Curious Jens went up to her, sticking his head over her shoulder. Lotte was his mom’s bed, sleeping peacefuly despite the lamp on the night stand lighting the room.

They just stood there for a moment and watched the little girl. Til his mom took a step back, weak on her feet. He helped her get down and joined right after. Causing them both to sit side by side, propped up against the wall across the stairs. He had his legs pulled up, his arms hugging his knees as he stared straight ahead.

„Lucas is my boyfriend.“

It just bursted out of him, the first thing that had come to mind. He probably should have said it sooner. He didn’t even know why he hadn’t done that til now.

„No! Really?“ His mother exclaimed shoked in pretence, nudging him lightly as she chuckled.

„What reaction do you want? Strict parent, or not understanding mother, or perhaps I could tell you, I always knew you weren’t as hetero as you believed. Even though that would be a lie.“

Jens bit his lip to contain his amusement. Instead he tilted his head as if he needed to consider her words. Jens definitely knew who was responsible for his personality. Even though they only had gotten as close and on par with each other since the diagnoses. She wasn’t just a parent any longer to him. He wished they had been like that earlier. They had fought rather often. Certainly him having been to blame for most of it. Sneaking out to meet Britt and later Jana, or getting caught coming home high and drunk. Perhaps he had to change first to get to this point.

„How about your genuine feelings?“

He therefore asked, not much worried that she would dismiss his boyfriend. It took her a second to think about it before she spoke.

„Obviously I like him a lot, and I’m glad you have him, you always seem happier with Lucas around. He is very kind. And he can keep up with your assholery.“ 

„Assholery?“ He snorted. 

„Yes, hush! You can really suck sometimes. And regarding him being a boy. I don’t care. I just want you to be loved, respected and supported. That’s all that is important to me.“

Lucas was that, wasn’t he? 

„I just wanted to actually tell you this, you know, in person. Out loud.“ 

His mother nodded, grinning at him, as they both had turned their heads while talking. Though he brought his eyes back onto the banister of the stairs infront of him, pulling on the ends of his hoodie’s sleves.

„Don’t you think it’s unfair to him?“

„What is?“ 

„This. Like I know I’m his real first relationship. And I had Britt and Jana and, like, other girls before him. I feel like I’m keeping him from something. I don’t know what exactly. Dating around. Hooking up casually. Not remembering the girl you drunk kissed last night at a party.“

„Speaking from experience, I take it.“ His mother sounded gleeful as she said it. She wasn’t wrong. Not that he would actually tell her that. She knew anyway. So he went on. 

„Just something that makes him regret it in the future, if he stays for all of this that is my fucking life.“

„You haven’t talked about this with him?“ 

Jens stayed silent. They both knew better than expecting him openly talking about his personal feelings. Late night talks with his mom though made it easier.

„I think Lucas is at an age to decide that for himself. In fact you are both graduating soon, just enjoy the time you two get to have. You are both teenagers. Nobody expects this to last forever. You are dating for what? A month? Don’t worry about what’s after, and talk to him, tell him what you think. Take it easy.“

She concluded, reaching over to place her hand on his knee. Her thumb brushing over it in light circles.

„I don’t know.“

„Then what do you actually know?“

Sometimes his mother murdered him in cold blood with her quips. 

“Hey!” He exclaimed accusatory. She was his mother. She had to love him unconditional. Not be mean to him.

They both were nonetheless enjoying the quiet banter and even the silence that followed when the two of them were each sunken in their own heads.

„I’ve written your father.“ His mother suddenly said, making his head spun round. He hadn’t known they were in contact. The last two years went completely by without any message nor a mention of his dad. 

„I don’t have his phone number, but his mail adress, and so I’ve told him today about everything that is happening right now. He is still the man I had planned to grow old with, the man I’d die next to. Even after all these years I can’t quite forget about him. He should know at least.“

She sounded saddened as she spoke, her voice low and resigned.

„I’m not gonna let him come back here and take Lotte.“

It was all Jens honestly cared for, even if it was cold to ignore his mothers remeining love for his father. He knew that his parents were officially still married. To his knowledge neither his father nor his mother ever hadn’t gotten into a serious relationship after they broke it off.

„Let me finish, okay?“  She interrupted his thoughts. „I also did it to send him a form Alex gave me for him to sign, and waive his position of choice as the legal guardian. I thought you may not want to talk to him yourself. It’s also one less thing for you to worry about it.“

„Thank you.“ He was greateful for that, honestly. He should have stopped at that, yet still found himself asking: „Why did you let him do this to you?“

„What?“ She looked at him puzzled, perhaps retracing her words to figure out what Jens was getting at.

„Let him leave you.“ He expanded on his question. Something he realised he had thought about since his father had left them six years ago. Jens probably should have asked this years ago in order to understand, because he never could figure it out. His father was just gone for months on end, and one day for good.

„It wasn’t something that came over night. We both knew since we began dating at university. He had always talked about his plans and ambitions. And I always reminded him that I wanted children more than anything else. So he gave me you three to love and I gave him his freedom.“

„Aren’t you regretting it?“

„Letting him go?“

Jens nodded. Yes exactly. Like how can you merry a person you know will leave you at some point. Maybe even a fixed point as his father began his expeditions and travels right after his phd.

„No. Well sometimes. When you three drove me crazy. Especially that one day you decided to give your baby sister the cream jar, for her to smear all over the living room, herself and you included. I had to bath you three for an hour to get everything washed out. Cried two more hours after. And the armchair, the poor armchair had to be thrown out.“ 

She laughed, as she indulged in her reminiscence. He couldn’t help but smile at her. They really had done some dumb stuff when they were younger. How his mother had managed to keep Lies and him in check while tending to Lotte was a mystery to Jens.

„But no I don’t regret ever having had all of you. Nor having let him follow his passion and do his work. I think he would have stayed had I asked him to. But he would have come to resent me for it one day. Sometimes you have to let people go because you love them.“

„Sounds stupid.“

His mother just giggled at his blunt response. She rose her hand ruffling his hair, ignoring his complaint as leaned away to escape her teasing.

„Maybe you are right.“ She admitted sheeply. „I am your mother, but I really don’t know shit.“ She grinned brightly at him as he watched her amused. „To let you in on the secret of adulthood. You just have to wing it most of the times and hope for the best.“

His groan could have probably woken his sister if she wouldn’t be such a deep sleeper.

„This sucks.“

„It does.“ She agreed without hesitation, trying to comfort him with a kiss to his forehead. It helped a little.

„So what are your plans?“

„For what?“

„I don’t know.“ She shrugged, leaving him none the wiser on if she was playing at something. Maybe Lucas had talked to her today? 

„Senne invited us all for christmas to go to his grandparent’s cabin in switzerland.“

„Really?“ He hadn’t expected her to look so happy while surprised.

„Yes.“ The confirmation was just a little whisper. He was uncomfortable to talk about it. Jens knew she would want him to go. And he knew he couldn’t just leave her at home, and enjoy his holidays, knowing his mom’s declining health. What kind of son would he be?

„Wow now I’m very jealous.“

„I’m not going.“ He cut her off, before she could say anything else. Of course it was already to late, her cheery expression already faltering.

„Why? Come on, Jens, tell them that you will join their trip.“

„It would be our last christmas.“

He only had to send her one look, to make her understand and sigh.

„I know. But I’d rather have you spend some weeks away from all of this. Get your head free a little, get distracted. I had planned to go see my mom in Brussel anyway, if I can, before... You know. So you could drop off Lotte and me on the way and then see your friends. Sit in front of a fire with them. Kiss your boyfriend on a mountaintop. I don’t know. Just enjoy your time, before you’ll have your little sister tag along on any other vacation for the next couple of years.“

It sounded so easy when his mother said it. As if he could just turn his brain off for a moment and not think about her all the time when she wasn’t around. But he supposed she had a point. Especially at the end of her little monologue.

„Geez. You might be right.“

„I always am. So you are going?“

He kinda hated how bold she smiled, knowing she had made him consider it and probably accept Senne’s invitation. Damn her.

„I’ll sleep on it.“ He sighed once more, while he rolled his eyes especially hard.

„Good enough for me. We should probably head to bed as well. When will Lucas be here with his mom for breakfast again?“ 

Oh. That reminded Jens of what he actually had wanted to do after dinner, when he had stood in his room questioning why he had made the trip upstairs in the first place He definitely had taken his phone off the charger and down back to the kitchen, didn’t meant he had actually sent the text.

„Eh... Shit, should probably message him. I forgot. What was it? Nine thirty? Ten?“

Lucas had said something before he had left. 

„I can’t believe I am leaving all of this and the responsibitliies to you.“

His mother cluck her tounge, as she shook her head. Her expression definitely amused.

„Funny. Come, I’ll help you up.“ He said getting to his feet first before he extended his hand for her to take. They both needed a moment to recover, stretching in place after having lingered in the same position for a while. And on the hard floor as well. 

In turn it was her now reaching out for him, to nudge him towards her room. Both squeezing in on the free side of the bed. His mother only reaching over to turn off the light and call it a day.

__ __ __

tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 4)

It is only after they part ways that Azula realizes she hadn’t gotten his name. And she thinks about that for a long time afterwards. It is a stupid thing to have nagging her in the back of her mind. A trivial matter. He was a friendly face and a good companion but she didn’t know him all too well.

They’d spent a good week or so together. He helped her craft some tools like a good fishing spear and a bow and some arrows for hunting. She has an abundance of blankets so she traded one for a pan to cook her fish and game over.

They had talked a good deal, nothing of where she is headed or where she had come from. She didn’t have to drop a false name because he didn’t ask for one at all. There had been an unspoken courtesy, a knowing that she didn’t want to be known. So he settled for talking of his wife and of folklore that he’d heard during his travels.

She warned him of a rather troublesome group of bandits just to the south of where she had been before she’d entered the plains.

Azula steers her mongoose-lizard towards the skyline. She can see the outlines of buildings through a thin veil of mist. She hopes to be there before the clouds open up and soak her to the bone.

The man had told her a tale about how he and his wife had been in a thick forest huddling in a cave as they waited out a storm. He claimed that they met a spirit there; one that looked like a rabaroo but spoke like a child. They followed it out into the storm and it led them to a babe. They had taken the babe in and that, that was why he was on this journey. To trade furs and other goods for coin. He promised his wife that he’d have them plenty of food by the time he got back and toys too.

The village is in unobscured view now. And so her nervousness unveils itself too. There is always a pinch of nervousness when entering a new town; the smaller it is, the greater her sense of foreboding. She is more elusive in the bigger towns. In the smaller villages they want to get to know her.

She is almost certain that there is another larger town some miles away but she is just as certain that she won’t beat the storm. As though to diminish any figment of doubt, she spies the first fork of lightning stab into the cloud diagonal from it. She urges her mongoose-lizard to move faster. She reaches the village as the first drop of rain spatters on her cheek. The streets are desolate save for a vendor who had been late to pack in. The woman’s hair whips into her face. A face screwed up in distress and concentration. The wind is certainly picking up, it blows a few more fat droplets into Azula’s face. She hears the woman cry out as she fumbles with the protective tarp and it flies from her hand.

The sky opens up with a fury and Azula chides herself for pausing to gawk. The woman takes notice of her and she inwardly berates herself a second time. And then a third as she steers her mongoose-lizard towards the woman. She slides down from her mount and grabs the other end of the tarp. The woman grunts at the effort of securing it.

“Why did you wait so long to close your stall?” Azula questions over the storm.

“Why didn’t you plan your travels better?” She shoots back.

“I noticed the storm miles back. I can only get my mongoose-lizard to run so fast.” She swats at the wet strands of hair that plaster to her forehead and finds herself relieved that she had chosen to chop it short. The other woman doesn’t have such luck, her hair is flapping into her eyes and sticking to her bare shoulders.

“Thank you for helping me.”

“I was hoping that you could give me a place to wait out the storm.”

The woman rolls her eyes. “So you’re that sort.”

“That sort?” Azula asks. She wishes that the woman would have this discussion with her inside.

“You do things for things.”

“Well yes, that’s how it works.”

“Have you ever done anything helpful just to be generous?”

She thinks for a moment. A moment that turns into a minute and then a span of time long enough for the woman to say, “I didn’t think so.”

Azula frowns. “Fine.” She climbs back to her saddle, there is a decent puddle in it. It doesn’t matter she is drenched down to her last layer of clothing and then some.

“Wait. I didn’t mean anything by that.” The woman calls up to her. “You can stay with me if you want.”

But she is agitated already, perhaps wrongly so, and can’t imagine spending another moment with the woman. She gives the mongoose-lizard’s reins a flick and ventures into the storm. And really, what does it matter? Her sense of urgency has been washed away by having already failed to keep herself dry.

Thunder shakes the cobblestone, she hears a tree branch split. She thanks the spirits that she can bend lightning and has watched Zuko redirect it enough to have a sense of how it’s done. She finds herself an alley to steal away in.

The storm lets up as suddenly as it had come, tapering off with a few final patters. It had raged for a respectable ten minutes, but such a powerful burst can never seem to sustain itself. The village inhabitants are slower to emerge. She wonders if she is due for a second onslaught; she finds that storms like these usually come in pairs or several short sets.

She emerges from the alley dripping and shivering. Her mongoose-lizard looks just as miserable.

The streets don’t fill until the sun has been in the sky for at least an hour. And even an hour later, she is still sopping wet and dripping as though she herself is a raincloud. Her mood goes darker still.

Now, with a crowd, her nerves are flaring again. As wet as she is, she is twice as likely to draw attention. She will draw it thrice over being an outsider who is unmistakably Fire Nation.

She clenches the reigns much tighter than she needs to and guides her mount through the crowd. She watches three children, two boys and a girl kicking up puddles and giggling. An older child floats a paper boat down the stream of the sidewalk gutter. The children pay her passing by no mind. That is one constant from town to town; the children are always oblivious. At least until the adults make a fuss, then they get curious. She doesn’t like children, when they do take an interest in her they ask far too many questions and with all the social grace of a village drunk.

She scans the buildings for an inn. She will stay here for some time, earn herself some more coin, and be on her way. She resigns herself to the possibility that she might have to bypass the inn and sleep in the village green if she wishes to keep her earnings. She might have to do so regardless, this village is so small that it may not have an inn at all.

As she ganders at street signs and buildings, she feels eyes on her. Most are drawn out passing glances, some linger long enough to send a vibration up and down her spine. A very particular set of eyes refuse to leave her.

“Missus, you’re all wet!”

“So I am aware.” She answers dryly.

“I have hair too.” He beams up at her, one of his front teeth is missing. “See!” He points at his hair.

“That isn’t what I said.” She grumbles.

“I also have teeth, missus. But not all of them! Do you have all of your teeth?”

Azula blinks. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because sometimes, for some reason your tooth gets all wiggly and then it falls out. My dad says not to yank it out. Or if you’re like my friend’s brother’s dad...” He stops for a breath and starts over. “If you’re like my friend’s father’s dad you got into a fight and got punched in the face!”

“Yes, well my teeth are fine.”

“Atsu!”

The child jerks. His smile seems to dim. “That’s my dad.”

The man, he can’t be much younger than she, approaches and with a sigh and a nervous chuckle asks, “he’s not bothering you, is he?”

“Yes, he is.”

The man flushes.

“I’m sorry, he just likes talking to people. I’ve tried to tell him that it isn’t polite.”

She shrugs. “Have you tried other means of discipline?” Really it is only a question that borders on being a suggestion, but the man seems to grow more uncomfortable. “Some children only respond to strict lessons and…” She falls short watching his expression flicker into something of concern. Sometimes she forgets that the Earth Kingdom isn’t so rigid with their children. “Nevermind.” She grumbles, her own face growing red.

“Did I do something bad, dad?”

He shakes his head. “No. Fire Nationals tend to be...stern and blunt.” He puts a hand on the boy’s back.

Azula swallows, something in her belly flutters with unease and regret. She shouldn’t care. She has no reason to care. But something in her itches to make a better impression. She opens her mouth to call for him to wait but she doesn’t utter a word. She can’t come up with anything to say afterwards. By the time she thinks up something, the man and his boy have slipped into the crowd. Apparently children aren’t the only ones that have the tact of a town drunk. And so she is left to navigate the town alone. She supposes that she should simply buy some new shoes and make her way to the city over. She has enough food to last until then.

That day she learns that children will probably be her second great downfall. Or maybe it is something about not being so rigid? She learns that she still isn’t a good person. That she’s unlovable at worst and hard to be around at best.

.oOo.

Navigating the palace for the first time in years is not unlike getting used to a new town. It is hardly recognizable, easy to get lost in, and she doesn’t know many of the inhabitants. A lot of them openly and unrelentingly eyeball her as she passes. The stares aren’t particularly malicious. In fact, she doesn’t think that they are ill-meaning at all. Mostly they stare at her as though she is a phantasmal spirit.

“So there are some new portraits up.” He gestures to the gallery. “As in some I mean, one.”

She catches the faintest of jolts as he seems to recall that the feud for the throne is still a delicate topic. She eyes the image of Zuko standing tall and proud, flame in one hand, olive branch in the other. She doesn’t find herself simmering and seething. It is more or less a solemn acceptance. There is a residual tickle of envy that seeps through the cracks. She thinks that it has less to do with the crown and more to do with the respect it represents. The honor she has lost and the purpose she has yet to find. The content and peace he has found that she can’t seem to grasp even when it is securely in her hands.

“He picked a fine artist.” She remarks. And that is all. They are onto the next hallway.

“It doesn’t bother you?” He asks.

“The only thing that bothers me is that you’re starting the questions thing again.”

“How am I supposed to get to know you if I don’t ask questions?”

She shrugs. “Watch. Observe.” She accidently meets the stare of one of the passing servants. “Like everyone else.” She fidgets with the excess folds of her robe. There is a part of her that wonders if she should open up, to tell him everything from start to finish. Perhaps to slip her journal into his bag before he leaves. She backtracks, not knowing what she was thinking.

“Zuko also had a new room added to the palace.”

“A new room?”

“Yeah it’s full of trinkets from the other nations. He thought that it would be a nice way to show that we’re trying to move away from the war.”

Azula nods. “It seems like most nations are. I hadn’t expected people to be so...inviting in the Earth Kingdom.”

“Because you’re Fire Nation?”

“That’s correct.”

“They didn’t recognize you, did they?”

“I have a feeling that they wouldn’t have taken as kindly to me if they did.” She confesses. She wonders if any of the people she had met along the way would still care for her if they found her in the palace with a prettily and painstakingly styled hair and a full face of makeup. Granted, she hasn’t gotten around to that yet.

“Oh! And we can go out to the garden!” Sokka exclaims. She readily allows the subject change. “That’s different to. Your mom and uncle planted this tea garden and Zuko had some flowers imported. There are more turtle-ducks too!”

“That sounds nice, I suppose. Hajime would have enjoyed it.”

“Hajime?”

Azula stiffins and scolds herself for letting that slip. “I’d like to see the spa, it has been too long.”

Mercifully, Sokka gets the hint. “The palace spa is different too.”

She frowns. “Not the spa. I liked the spa.” She folds her arms. “It was perfectly fine the way it was.”

“I think that you’ll like the change. Come on.”

At some point Azula had come to lead the way. Like muscle memory, she finds that she can still find her way about the palace. Mostly anyhow. There are things that throw her off, decor that hadn’t been there before, a new portrait, or something that has been moved from one place to another. The spa though, upon arrival, is both the same and different. It still has the frameworks of what it once was but it is grander now, more elegant. The fountain and its adjoining chair are exactly as they had been and a small tree in a large pot still sits on either side of the staircase leading to it. The carpeting is also much the same and sunlight spills in through a large window on the ceiling.

But there are new dragons that join the ones already accenting the back wall. And these ones jut forward with mouths spilling flames of gold. She notices that they too are fountains that lead to miniature fountains, presumably for hand washing. There are also several small crystals dangling from the ceiling, casting prisms all about the room. And when the sunlight strikes them right, they bounce off of the jets of water. There are also small turtle-duck statues resting near the potted trees.

It is so familiar yet so changed. She admits that she does like the change.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s nice, Zuzu.”

“I was about to have my hair combed, but you can go first if you want.”

She would very much like that. It will take less time for them to wash her hair anyways. Where hers has been mournfully hacked, his locks have lengthened so gracefully. She thinks it somewhat cruel how he is now the one with all of the splendor both visually and in status. She feels ruefully unremarkable.  “Yes, that would be wonderful.”

The serving girls file into the room. “You hired them back?”

“They weren’t supposed to have been banished in the first place.”

She isn’t sure that he had meant it as anything more than a statement of fact, but it still stings. She reclines in the spa chair, feeling terribly uncomfortable and out of place. The longer that she stays the more she feels as though she shouldn’t have come back. It is one thing to be plain in an ordinary world and another to be lackluster when surrounded by splendor.

[nnq]

modern!au k(lance)

they're all in their 20's except for Shiro who's 30 and coran who's 50

first of all. miss me with that 'pining roommate' shit. I love miscommunication and making characters that r sexy bffs with one another

Lance meets Nyma through a Craigslist ad he put up saying he needed a roommate. the moment they met was a tragedy for everyone but them because they're that powerful and beautiful

lance with tousled hair, wearing a half-unbuttoned silk shirt and designer jeans, Michael kors sunglasses pushed up atop his head, arm wrapped around nyma: hi guys this is my roommate, nyma!

nyma, with her blonde 3-ft long box braids down her back, perfectly manicured red nails, bodycon dress and loubitons, hand on lances waist: hey

allura, shaking and on the verge of tears: STOP MAKING US LOOK POOR AND UGLY

Lance is in school for marine biology and Nyma works as a hairdresser and the both of them are small beauty gurus on YouTube that collab with one another

lance: hey guys we're going to be trying out the new anastasia pallete we got today :)!

nyma: and by got we mean shoplifted from sephora

lance: NYMA YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT

they're also insta baddies and both gender non-conforming baddies. Nyma is a nonbinary lesbian icon and lance is a nonbinary bicon.... those are like the fucking BEST senses of style

anyone with eyes can see that nyma is into and ONLY into girls but of course... heteronormativity.

rolo: I still don't get why you're dating lance. he's super annoying.

nyma: he doesn't bitch nearly as much as you even when he's got my cock in his ass

they do this thing where when people assume they're a couple they pretend they're some kind of kink couple and freak everyone out

which is why when hunk and pidge meet nyma they're like :eyes: but when nyma flirts with pidge lance doesn't even bat an eye and then lance starts pining about Keith's greasy mullet and his bags under his eyes and nymas got this look on her face that perfectly resembles a man who's lost all sense of normalcy and righteousness in his life and now sits in a bar every night listening to this dumb romance novel type shit and then pidge and hunk are like. oh. no they're just gay.

speaking of keith. he's one of those gays. one of the quirky emo gays that never sleeps and listens to 'coffee and cigarettes' on repeat and has like 3 strings of lights in his room and not only is an art major but ALSO a photographer. and yet somehow he still has the will to wake up at 5 am every morning and go to the gym like some kind of HEATHEN.

Lance knew Keith in high school for 3 years until he got expelled for fighting at the end of his junior year. He was also universally crushed on and was the bad boy jock of the school with a heart of gold so naturally Lance pretended to despise him so he could pine for him in peace

that all goes down the drain when Lance recognizes Keith in one of his classes and goes through the five stages of grief because a) he's hot and b) Lance is openly bi now so he doesn't have an escuse to not tolerate him

(He wasn't gonna do anything about it until he was put in a group with Keith a few weeks into class and he off handedly mentioned he went to Keiths high school, and Keith claimed he didn't remember him, and Lance was just a tad bit upset but was gonna leave it at that except after like 5 days of working together Keith slams his fists into the table and is like 'HOLY FUCK LANCE MCCLAIN?' And Lance is like. w. What.)

turns out Keith does remember lance. very vividly, actually. because he was the guy that everyone kind of had a crush on because he was so nice and charming to everyone he met, and Keith was SO gone for him. he just didn't recognize him tbh, which makes sense, bcuz in high school lance wore blue contacts and had straight hair and now he just wears glasses occasionally and leaves his hair wavy. Keith is gay and stupid don't blame him

keith, bursting into Shiro and Adams apartment at 2 pm: SHIRO HOLY FUCK

adam, bags under his eyes, underneath the covers of him and shiros bed: good fucking god not again

I'm tired of talking about ppl other than Lance and nyma though so I'm gonna talk about them for a bit because im love

as I said Lance has wavy hair and his actual eye color is brown but as he was growing up he was hella insecure about it that's why he wore blue contacts.... nyma caught him once trying to put them on again and put an end to All That Real Quick

nyma has brown eyes too and they're super dark, almost black, and that shits breathtaking bro. she usually has her real hair dyed blonde all the time and permed but she also likes to wear wigs and get braids too because she knows she looks damn good in them. everyone is jealous.

lance has tons of super light freckles. Enough said. nyma has a birthmark on her hip that's kind of shaped like a horse if you look at it from the right way

lance: you were a horse girl as a kid weren't u

nyma: how fucking dare. how fucking dare you say that. I really do have to laugh.......

nyma: obviously I was a warrior cats stan

lance's sense of fashion ranges from 'i went to California for a week once and now I can't stop wearing sweatpants and slides' to 'It's surprising I haven't gotten robbed at this point'. Lance is a scholarship baby so all the money he saved up through countless jobs and the one he already has at a coffee shop almost exclusively goes to clothes and kombucha

Nymas sense of style is definitely more on the eccentric side but since she looks good in EVERYTHING she gets away with it. think dollskill but with more neon colors and designer. she's the kind of person that never wears the same shade of lipstick for a whole month and has a box full of makeup palletes that are almost untouched and everyone who has seen it is both jealous and in wonder FENTYWAYS...

Keith goes over to lance's apartment for a project of sorts and immediately assumes that Lance and Nyma are a thing (they're very platonically affectionate, Nyma will kiss lance's cheek and they cuddle sometimes) which is disappointing but it's not a surprise considering Lance is so Lance and everyone else acts like they are dating so that must be the case, right?

lmao you thought.

nyma: holy shit. holy Fuck. God, allura is so hot. I would probably die if she brushed past me. I would die happily knowing I've been blessed by the touch of an angel.

lance: yeah haha she's really pretty.

keith, struggling to not choke on his coffee hearing All This at 9:31 A.M. in starbucks:

Keith asks if he can take photos of the two of them for his photography insta and they both jump on it so they can flex being sexy and afterwards Lance thanks him with a kiss on the cheek and Keith is sent REELING into gay mayhem.

lance: do you think that was like..... too much.

nyma: i think men are dumb that's what.

I mean u can't really blame Keith because Lance and Nyma are constantly joke-flirting with one another on social media and are in almost every one of the others photos in some way, or at least tagged, so by the time Keith actually works up the nerve to ask about that, it's been WEEKS since Lance kissed him and he's been miserably failing to ignore it

keith: so.... how's nyma doing?

lance: she's good! She's spent all day dying one of her wigs so she went for a coffee run lol. probably will hang with allura and shay later too

keith: and.... that doesn't make you jealous?

lance: LOL no.... they could never compete with me (talking about being Nyma's best friend)

keith: oh.... well, it's good that you trust each other a lot in your relationship.... you seem like a really good boyfriend

lance: wat the fuck did you just say.

as soon as lance explains that nyma is not his gf and they're just bffs Keith is like ohthankgod.jpg and almost accidentally asks lance on a date before he stops himself and is like.... dumb gay bitch calm DOOOWWWNN

after that it becomes very obvious that nyma and lance r just friends at least for Keith mostly through dumb shit they say to one another

lance, sitting with hunk, pidge, and Keith at the library: hey guys wanna see something cool.

pidge: go for it

lance, clearing his throat: she think she bad but I'm better, these bitches tryna play catch up-

nyma, coming out of nowhere: SHUT THE FUCK UP WHEN I'M TALKING LIL BITCH, PUT YO HEAD DOWN WHEN YOU TALK TO A PIMP-

Nyma and Lance have self-care nights every Friday, sometimes Allura or Shay will come, and very RARELY Keith if only to spend time with Lance. also? Allura and Shay are dating, die mad about it.

They do waxing, exfoliation, mud masks, moisturizing treatments, hair masks, painting nails.... need I go on. it's basically whatever they want to do that week and when Keith reluctantly agrees to participate one day Lance goes mental

lance: OK so here's what I'm thinking. it's obvious you haven't really had a self care day for a while, which is like, fine, you do you, but holy shit are your split ends bad. I was thinking maybe I could trim them and then we could do a hair mask? Oh! A face mask would be good as well, even though you've practically got perfect skin. I'd offer to wax but for first timers the pain is a bitch to handle on the face. I'm not sure if you'd be an acrylic kind of guy but I have some black nail polish that I could put on- wow, your hands are really big compared to mine, and they're so soft, haha, isn't that crazy? so what do you think?

keith, still reeling from the fact that lance is going to touch his hair, face, and hands in the next several hours: uh......yeah..... sounds great.

nyma, sitting on lance's bed in nothing but a bra and sweatpants, smoking a blunt and readjusting her sheet mask: *long exhale* christ

Shay got Lance into the whole healthy organic food thing and in turn he got Nyma into it so they're both the bitches who drink nothing but Fiji water and almond milk and will offer you a plate of sliced cucumbers and tomatoes as a snack. we Stan a vegan couple.

keith: these are actually really good.

nyma: we usually put them on our eyes, but go off I guess.

keith:

nyma: nah I'm just fucking with you, we have different cucumbers for that

by the end of the night Keith feels like he's been cleaned by a car wash and he's dizzy from all of lance's thoughtless affection and when lance says he can stay the night because it's already late, Keith mindlessly blurts out 'only if it's with you' and nymas like.... um. Wig.

keith, laying stiff as a board on one side of lance's bed: uh

lance: oh my God you gay bitch get over here and spoon me. also kiss me on the fucking lips bro.

Nyma owns a cat named Beezer that she stole from her old roommate (rolo) but calls her beebo because quote 'beezer is so fucking lame bro i hate men'. Lance owns a Russian blue mix called, you guessed it, Blue, that he found stuck in his apartments basement only a few days after moving in. Nyma and Lance are WEAK

lance: ohhhhh look at my pretty baby sitting on the table all cute and relaxed!!! look at that baby!!! fantastic stuff!

nyma, putting her head on beebos belly: You Are So Soft And So Chubby I Would Die For You

pidge would also die for the both of them

OK I'm tired and uninspired so I'll stop here but I MAY ADD MORE LATER

[amostexcellentblog]

Judy Garland: Reflections on an Icon, Gay or Otherwise

Today, June 22, 2019, marks the 50th anniversary of the day we lost one of the world’s greatest entertainers, Judy Garland. In just a few days time we will observe an even more momentous 50th anniversary, that of the Stonewall Uprising which birthed the modern LGBTQ equality movement. If you’re familiar with your queer folk history, you’ll know there are those who claim this close timing is not a coincidence. But we’ll get to that later.

I first encountered Garland the way most people do--my parents showed me The Wizard of Oz when I was little. I don’t remember much of the experience aside from wanting to be a flying monkey for Halloween, and that “Over the Rainbow” made me cry, which was the first time any piece of media had made such an impact on me. It never really occurred to me that the woman who sang that song could have had a career beyond Oz until 12 years ago when I was just finishing Middle School and becoming interested in the Old Hollywood era. She was the first star I formed an emotional connection to, and as I happily made my way through her filmography and read up on her life I first encountered the phrase “gay icon.”

I knew what gay meant, obviously. I was vaguely aware of the LGBTQ and marriage equality movements, but at the time I mostly knew “gay” as the insult hurled at me seemingly everyday of Middle School for a series of things I never gave a second thought to but were apparently tell-tale signs that I was that way, and thus a figure deserving of torment--how I carried my books, how I sat, how I looked. My basic opinion of being gay at that point was that it’s fine for other people, but dear god don’t let this be my future!

So, when I realized that the star I was idolizing was famous for being idolized by gay men, I did what I’d become very adept at doing, I ignored the implications. Denial allowed me to spend high school working my way through her films, youtube videos, documentaries, and a biography without really examining why this woman resonated so much with me. So now, as we approached these two anniversaries, it seemed like a good time to finally try to sort through what she meant to me. What I ended up with instead is an essay that’s part personal reflection and part mediation on the meaning of the term “Gay Icon” in the era of Marriage Equality and Corporate-Sponsored Pride.

The term “Gay Icon” has been used to mean several similar, but different types of people. To clarify, when I talk about Gay Icons in this post, I’m talking specifically about a subset of gay icons related to the so-called “Diva Worship” culture among gay men. Nobody really seems to know why exactly gay men are so drawn to larger-than-life women, I’ve heard too many reasons to go into them all now, but even if not all of us go for the cliches (Cher, Gaga, etc.) pretty much every gay man has a female figure--real or fictional--they connect with in a way their straight male peers don’t.

Looking back, it’s obvious why Garland resonated with me. She was chronically insecure, especially about her looks--as was I. She spent her life wanting desperately to for someone to love her unconditionally and to be able to love them back, only to be denied this simple happiness time after time--well, of course that would resonate with a gay audience, especially in her lifetime. And she was a survivor, repeatedly cast aside by the press and the industry as washed up, she continually had the last laugh. She had a strength to her that I wanted. It was a different kind of strength than the physical/masculine kind offered by the pro-athletes and superheroes my male peers emulated, but which I found unrelatable and unappealing. Hers was a strength that came dressed in sequins and high heels, and I just thought it was fabulous.

Garland though, is more than just a gay icon, in a lot of ways she seems to be the gay icon. The popular code phrase “friend of Dorothy” is generally assumed to be a reference to her character in Oz. She maintained close friendships with gay men throughout her life, with whom she would frequent illegal gay bars on both coasts. Her father was a closeted homosexual, and biographers have speculated this is why so many of the men she was attracted to, both as friends and romantically, turned out to be gay or bi. She was one of the first celebrities to have their gay following acknowledged in the mainstream press. There’s even footage on youtube of her being asked directly about why she attracts so many “homosexuals,” and she is visibly thrown by it.

To understand why Garland would be so flustered over that question, it’s important to understand how being popular with the gay community was perceived in her lifetime. William Goldman’s The Season, his influential book about the 1967–68 season on and off Broadway, includes an account from an unnamed screenwriter friend describing a mid-1960s cocktail party that offers a fascinating glimpse at just that:

I can’t explain her appeal, but I saw it work once in this crazy way. I was at a party in Malibu... There were a lot of actors there, the word on them was that they were queer, but this was a boy-girl party, everyone was paired off, and these beautiful men and gorgeous broads were talking together and drinking together. Anyway, everything’s going along and it’s sunny, I’m getting a little buzzed... when I realized, Garland was in the room.

The guy she’s with, her husband, supports her as she plops down in this chaise, and says what she wants to drink and he goes off to get it. And she’s sitting all alone and for a minute there was nothing, and then this crazy thing started to happen. Every homosexual in the place, every guy you’d heard whispered about, they left the girls they were with and started to mass move towards Garland. She didn’t ask for it, she was just sitting there, while all these beautiful men circled her. They crowded around her and pretty soon she’s disappeared behind this expansive male fence. It may not sound like all that much, but I’m telling you, she magnetized them. 

I’ll never forget all those famous secret guys moving across this gorgeous patio without a sound, and her just sitting there, blinking. And then they were on her, and she was gone. (x)

Another passage describing one of her concerts in 1967, from Goldman himself, is even more blunt:

Another flutter of fags, half a dozen this time, and watching it all from a corner--two heterosexual married couples. “These fags” the first man says, “it’s like Auschwitz, some of them died along the way but a lot of them got here anyhow!” He turns to the other husband and shrugs, “Tonight, no one goes to the bathroom.” (x)

Both passages, laced with condescension, homophobia, and misogyny, are nevertheless useful windows into a pre-Stonewall way of looking at how far gay culture has come. Today Lady Gaga can sing “Don’t be a drag just be a queen” on a lead single and still reign as a queen of pop music, back then any association with homosexuality was enough to taint you. Garland’s popularity with gay men opens her up to condescending mockery, while gay men’s mere existence at a public event is enough to terrify the heterosexual attendees.

Still, the most revealing part of that last passage might not be the homophobia, but the opening reference to “another flutter of fags, half a dozen.” The fact that a decent amount of gay men evidently felt comfortable enough to express themselves at least somewhat openly at a mainstream public event is notable. In this pre-Stonewall era such openness was generally reserved for bars and other covert safe spaces.

Which brings us back to the first paragraph. If you know any queer folk history, then you’ve probably heard this one--Judy Garland’s funeral sparked the Stonewall Uprising. That fateful night in June the Stonewall Inn was packed with gay men still emotionally raw from losing their idol, so much so that when the police raided the joint they channeled that anger and loss, and fought back, and the modern LGBTQ movement was born! It’s a story that would solidify Garland’s status as the definitive gay icon, a martyr for the cause, (move over Harvey Milk!) Except, it’s not true. It’s been debunked multiple times. Most recently in this video from the NY Times.

I bring it up though, because even if she wasn’t the cause, she was still connected to that historic night, if only indirectly. Even as the NY Times video debunks the myth of her funeral causing it, two of the uprising’s participants interviewed do admit to being at Garland’s funeral, which really was held just hours before the violence started. Other accounts from people who patronized Stonewall have said that “Judy Garland” was a popular fake name to use on a sign-in book at the entrance. In other words, even if she didn’t cause them, she was still an important figure for some of the people who went on to build the modern equality movement.

As a final thought to wrap this all up, I’ve been thinking about Garland and her status as a gay icon. It’s no secret that as the years have passed by she’s been somewhat supplemented by younger icons for younger generations. There’s been some question over whether Garland even has a place in a gay culture that now has people like Lady Gaga and “Born This Way,” openly acknowledging their gay fans in ways Garland never could. 

At the same time, I can’t help but feel the recent debate over Taylor Swift’s gay-themed music video demonstrates why Garland still deserves her Gay Icon status, even if most younger queer people today don’t have the same connection to her that older generations did. Swift’s video, chocked full of every out celebrity who would return her calls and saturated in a rainbow-hue, has faced criticism for being “performative activism.” That after being fairly silent on the issue for so long she’s now trying to cash-in on the movement by branding her single a new gay anthem for Pride Month. The fact that with one exception, which misuses the word “shade,” the lyrics to the song sound more like they’re referring to Swift’s online haters rather than anti-LGBTQ bigots, certainly helps the critics’ case. As does the fact that Swift never seemed to have much interest in building a large gay following before this.

Yet there’s also a sense that this was inevitable. Corporations already roll out rainbow colored logos for Pride, in retrospect it seems obvious that celebrities, and their PR firms, would start deliberately trying to market themselves as a gay icon without first taking the time to build a large following in the LGBTQ community. (Gaga’s established gay fanbase undoubtedly blunted similar criticisms of “Born This Way,” for example.) Garland in this case then serves as a symbol of a time when the Gay Icon title wasn’t anointed by marketing campaigns, but emerged organically from a genuine affection for an individual held by a large number of queer people. A reminder of how important that affection was to members of our community, (and still is to many of us) even if it could only go one-way. And perhaps even a warning, of what we might lose if we let this important part of gay subculture be transformed into just another marketing gimmick.

But I’ll leave all that for another time. For now, I’ll just say, thank you Judy Garland. Thank you for all the joy and comfort you’ve given to generations of gay men. And thank you especially for the companionship you gave me while I was still figuring some things out.

[doublehex]

Impressions of 7x02 “Stormborn”

So we got the second episode. Let’s have a chat.

Dragonstone:

We open up with a fierce storm raging outside Dragonstone, and I love this for several reasons. First off, the obvious allusions to the night that Daenerys was born, but most importantly I love the imagery of it. It is nearly black, save for the outlines of thunder strikes and the fire from within the Targaryen keep.

The scene opens with strife amongst Daenerys’ advisors. Elaria Martell has no shame over killing Tyrion’s niece Myrcella back in the final episode of Season 5, and I have to say I was disappointed by how it was played out. Tyrion seems to just casually accept what Elaria has done, a shrug off his shoulder. He should be pissed, and demanding from Daenerys some kind of retribution. I really do hope that something comes out from this, because otherwise it would just seem the showrunners are just waving off a critical relationship between characters.

Daenerys questions Varys about his loyalty, and I really do need to ask…why now? This is a conversation that needed to happen, but not after months of sailing together across the Narrow Sea. Why did Dany not speak with Varys in the final episode of season 6? It just seems awkwardly placed, although it is decently written.

Varys’ character suffers from cutting out the Golden Company plot from the books. Without Varys’ “perfect prince”, it doesn’t make much sense for him to have backed Viserys in the first season. He should have known that Viserys was the same kind of man that Aerys was, so why would he go for that? It feels like the writers are trying to salvage a ship that is made out of seaweed and is on fire.

I do however like Daenerys’ response – that if Varys felt she is doing a poor job as queen, he will say so to his face. And her threat of killing him if he should conspire against her shows she is not going to just accept his loyalty. Varys has jumped from monarch to monarch several times over now. He was essential for bringing Dorne and the Reach into the fold, and Daenerys is in need of a spymaster. But she does not trust him one bit, nor should see.

Then we get a Melisandre scene, where she reveals that perhaps Daenerys is the Prince(ss) That Was Promised. In the books, the revelation that the prophecy may have suffered a grammatical mistranslation came about as a sort of bitter moment…Aegon had been mistaken all along, and perhaps his error resulted in Rhaegar’s rash decision. Here it’s played as a mediocre female power moment.

Also, why is Melissandre in the throne room? Dany should be there on the stone throne, and Melissandre should be escorted in. Dany sees herself as queen – she should be showcasing that as much as possible.

When they plan for how Daenerys will retake the Seven Kingdoms, it is only her and Tyrion that vouches for the least amount of blood shed as possible. They realize that the Dothraki and Unsullied will only fan the xenophobic flames of the Westerosi. In order to establish Daenerys as a rightful ruler, it can’t be the Essosi that take King’s Landing. The Reachmen and Dornish will lay siege to King’s Landing.

This scene does a good job of showcasing what everyone wants out of Daenerys. Yara just wants the Iron Islands to be independent, she wants a quick end to the war. Ellaria and Olenna want Cersei to suffer, damn the consequences. Daenerys’ alliance is a fragile on at best. Besides the racial tensions between Dorne and the Reach, which have always been high, the alliance is split on how to proceed. It seems only the fact that Daenerys has dragons and a formidable army is what keeps the others from abandoning the cause.

At the end, Olenna tries to remind Dany that she is a dragon, so she must “be a dragon”. Olenna is trying to push Daenerys towards fire and blood, highest amount of casualties, giving the Lannisters as much misery as possible, and one can’t help but worry that this will be the show’s version of the “dragons plant no trees” from the books.

The Missandei and Grey Worm romance has finally come to it’s…blunt conclusion. Although it was good to hear Grey Worm speak of what the training of the Unsullied was like, the romance between these two characters have felt very contrived and forced. The sex scene is rather mild by the standards of the show, which comes as a relief, because the dialogue leading up to it was as awkward as one could get. One really has to ask just what this side plot added to the series, that couldn’t be better spent somewhere else.

Kings Landing:

Cersei seems to have taken Jaime’s advice to heart. She is doing her best to rallying the support of the Southern lords…and that seems to means just the Reach, if Randyll Tarly’s presence is anything to go by. The language she uses in her speech reminds me a great deal of Trump, where she is relying on an appeal of the Other and objectively false claims to secure a base.

It may have been unintentional or not, but I got several ISIS vibes when we had Qyburn defame Balerion’s skull with the ballista. They start off that scene with a bit of a history lesson, showcasing that Balerion is a big part of how the Seven Kingdoms were forged. It’s a priceless relic for all intents and purposes. Then we have Cersei deface it, and look pleased about it.

It seems to me that D&D are trying to create parallels between modern day and with Cersei. She has overturn the political system, going against the will of the people, to secure power. Now Trump did not perform a coup d’état like Cersei has. As far as we know, his election was legal. Influenced by outside forces, beyond a doubt, but legal. Most people did not want Trump as president, and almost nobody in Westeros wants Cersei to be their queen.

Another comparison between Team Lannister and the Alt-Right is the racist language Jaime has employed in recruiting Randyll Tarly to their side. Othering the Unsullied and the Dothraki in an appeal for Westerosi Nationalism (and luring the prospect of a new Paramount Lord of the Reach) seems to have worked on Lord Tarly.

One very keen thing to take away is that Jaime states that he no longer likes his sister. A rift is growing between the Lannister twins, and it will surely culminate in Jaime having to make a choice.

Winterfell:

Jon is finally starting to listen to Sansa. He speaks to her about the summon to Dragonstone, and she is wary. Despite her insistence that Tyrion is a good man, it is too risky. Sansa is still very much in bunker mode – after years of witnessing her family come under siege, she views anyone else but a Northman as a threat. She is not entirely wrong, but Sansa is also focused on the Southern threat, while Jon is focused on the Northern one.

In the end, Jon goes against the pleas of all his lords (including Lyanna Mormong) and accepts the invitation. Jon is getting flashbacks to his time as Lord Commander, when he is the sole voice for an unpopular action that must be taken. Even if it weren’t for Daenerys’ dragons, the North has been under siege for years. Food supplies are low, men are short. There’s a reason that boys and girls are being taught to fight. They need more manpower against the White Walkers, and Daenerys’ army is precisely what they need.

But once again, Sansa openly objects to Jon’s proposal in front of their lords. D&D continue to strike the same source of conflict between these two characters, in a way that seems artificial and forced. Especially when Jon rewards her with ruling the North in his absence. We just saw Jon seeking her counsel a scene earlier – why doesn’t he tell her his plans in private? The Starks look divided, and that won’t look good in front of the Northern nobility.

Petyr Balish also seems to be out of place this season. There is no clear understanding of just why, precisely, he is in the North, or what he is trying to accomplish. He may view chaos as a ladder, but the ladder doesn’t seem to be leading him anywhere. And the creep vibes he gives off does not seem to serve a purpose. In the earlier seasons, Petyr was very good at being everyone’s friend. That skill seemed to have evaporated by season 7 has rolled around.

Just what is Balish’s endgame plan? We are not getting much of a sense that he has one. Just like Varys, the changes to the narrative post season four has left Balish hanging.

Oldtown:

Sam’s arc is quickly becoming one of the best parts of the season. With an emphasis on being “hard rock Hogwarts”, the pacing of these scenes is stellar. They are glorified info dumps, but they are info dumps with style, and I am along for the ride. Maester Slughorn…err, Marwyn…no, Ebrose, sorry, is a darkly charming mentor for Sam.

The Grandmaesters actually had a good reason for hiding the greyscale cure – it tends to get the treater killed. But Samwell doesn’t have a say no attitude, and by golly he is going to save Ser Jorah. No matter what.

The cure for greyscale being entirely mundane instead of magical was a sigh of relief. And with the cure being to actually carve out the corrupted skin, one could not think of a better face for a character with morals are corrupted and dubious as Jorah Mormont. Next time, Ser Jorah, do not enslave people just to fulfill the debts of your wife. Also, don’t abuse the trust of a young woman and violate her privacy by kissing her without permission. No matter how sexily Ian Glen can growl “Khaleesi”, that is unforgivable.

And he does nothing for the narrative anyways, except slows it to a crawl.

Arya:

And the best scene transition goes to…pus soaked flesh into chicken pot pie! Mark Mylod had to be crackling as he directed that, and I wouldn’t blame him one bit. Grossing people out is a wonderful hobby to have.

Say one thing for season seven, and say that Arya’s arc has been on point, and her time in the inn is no exception. Watching her eat the pie surely made the entire audience hungering for something to stuff down their gut. You could hear every crunch, see the crumbs get stuck on Maisie Williams’ cheeks, and just get the sense that the pie was really damn good.

We also got a sense that the Hound had a profound impact on Arya. Her statement to having baked some pies is the kind of casual appeal to murder that sounds like it would come from Sandor Clegane’s mouth.

Arya also seems to have not realized that any of the Starks were alive, up until Hot Pie drops the fact that Jon took back Winterfell and was the King in the North. That changes her trajectory completely, from killing Cersei to reuniting with her family. Although that warms the heart, one has to wonder just what her last line to Jaqen H’ghar was supposed to mean. If she was “going home”, why was she not in Winterfell already?

The scene with Nymeria was, of course, wonderful, and D&D avoided the expected trap of having Nymeria rejoin with Arya. They haven’t been with each other for years, and Nymeria has long since found her own path in life. Nymeria has a pack, and Arya is on her way to reunite with hers.

Oh, of course this happens the moment Jon heads south for Dragonstone, but that’s plot convenience for you.

The Battle in the Narrow Sea:

So, we got one good scene and one bad one. The interaction between the Sand Snakes is almost…endearing. I actually found it a bit heart warming to see these three half-sisters are toying with each other. It almost makes one forget that they went and killed their nephew and joked about it.

But then we get the most awkward flirting with Yara and Elaria. “A foreign invasion is in progress”. Good god. They improvised most of those lines, and it really shows.

Once that nastiness is out of the way, we get a real sense of just what type of villain Euron Greyjoy is meant to be. The book version was an sorcerous pirate captain with delusions of eldritch power. Show Euron is the Mountain on the Sea. An absurd murderer with no desires to hold back his bloodlust. From the moment the Silence rams into the flagship of the Greyjoy fleet, Euron is an absurd villain.

And he rocks that role. Euron is utterly bloodthirsty that reflects the raised stakes of the series. Daenerys has brought dragons to Westeros, but Euron is showing us the true meaning “fire and blood”. Between the flaming ballista bolts and the Iron Islanders carving through each other, we get plenty of both.

The show does allude to how Euron from the novels would cut the tongue out of his crewmates. They are all silent, not speaking a single word, and one of the final shots is them cutting out the tongue out of the survivors.

The scene ends with Theon facing a new Ramsay. Seeing the way the Greyjoy loyalists are butchered by the crew of the Silence reminds Theon all too much of his abuser, and he can’t take it. Alfie Williams deserve an award for this scene alone. He utterly sells just the shame and fear in Theon.

When the episode draws to a close, Theon is left behind, just another bit of wreckage in Euron’s wake.

The episode opened with a storm of water, and it ended with one of blood.