and thinks his father's given up on him as he thinks he's done before

what's a fire and how does it - what's the word? - burn

so i have this disney playlist i listen to usually when i’m driving and i was blasting poor unfortunate souls this morning and i was thinking

what if ariel didn’t sign the scroll?

because she’s about to, okay, and she looks at the paper. the parchment made of seaweed, the ones that’s specially treated to survive underwater. and she thinks of her cave of treasures, her books that remain perfectly preserved underwater. “no thank you,” she says slowly, becoming keenly aware of air of this place, of the not-people she’d seen who hadn’t been able to pay the price for sea witch’s bargain. “i – no. thank you. but no.”

ursula tries to convince her otherwise, but ariel runs. she goes back to her cave, destroyed as it was by her father’s anger, and thinks.

she’s the daughter of triton. her books never got wet, though she lives in the ocean. she feels a pull inside her, to the land, to somewhere else, but what if – what if –

what if she doesn’t need the sea witch or her father to perform magic for her? what if she has her own?

ursula had wanted her voice because that’s how she performed her magic. singing in this cave had given it powers and protection, and when she saved her prince from the sea – she sang then too, to keep him safe, to guide him back to life and away from death.

so she has magic. she only needs to figure out how to use it.

so that’s what ariel does now. she’s quiet and keeps to herself, and her father and sisters think that it’s because she’s upset with her father, that she’s busy licking her wounds. she’s moved on from that. she has no trident, and is uninterested with fueling her magic with the souls of the damned like ursula has. so she needs to figure something else out.

she does what she’s not supposed to do, and goes where she’s not supposed to go, slipping past the guards and patrols to the one place in the sea that is forbidden to all of them.

the crevice in the earth where what remains of her grandmother lives.

ariel goes to amphitrite, and the sea goddess is so much bigger than ariel, the size of great whale as she curls at the bottom of the sea floor, too old and too tired to do anything more than sleep. “granddaughter,” the great being croaks, opening an eye as blue and as unfathomable as the sea, “you look like me.”

“they say i look like my mother,” she says, and to herself adds: that’s why father can barely stand to look at me.

“you have more of me in you than your mother,” she says, and she shifts and pulls her mass of red hair over her shoulder. “more of me in you than your father does, even.”

“i have magic,” she says, pulling her bravery to the fore as she swims closer to her grandmother, “i want you to teach me how to use it.” amphitrite pushes herself up, and it’s the first time she’s moved in a millennia, and ariel notices for the first time that her grandmother isn’t a mermaid – she has legs.

she has legs.

“you have power,” amphitrite corrects fiercely, “and i will teach you to wield it.”

and so she does. ariel spends her nights by her grandmother, learning to harness the power of the sea that runs in her veins, and sleeps her days away while her sisters and flounder and sebastian grow more and more concerned, but she refuses to tell them why. she refuses to be stopped.

but her heart still aches. she fell in love with her prince, and she wants him still. so she swims to the edge, goes to the beach where his castle resides in the dead of night when her lessons with her grandmother are complete, and sings

. she’s careful not to let any magic leak through, only her voice. she does not want to enchant him. she wants him to love her as she is. so she sings, her voice clear and powerful and cutting through the air. she hopes he can hear it.

then one day a figure walks to the beach, and it’s him, her prince. “hello?” he calls out, “are you out there? are you – please, it was you that saved me, wasn’t it? won’t you come out and let me see you?”

so she does, waves her tail at him until he catches sight of her and takes hesitant, disbelieving steps closer.

“you’re a mermaid,” he says, eyes wide, “i thought i saw – but it couldn’t be.”

“i am, and it can,” she says, heart beating wildly in her chest. he’s just as handsome as she remembered, and she wants him just as much. “my name is ariel.”

“ariel,” he repeats, and pulls off his boots and goes wading into the water, watching her to see if she flinches away from him. she doesn’t, and his strides grow bolder. “my name is eric.”

“eric,” she whispers, and when he’s close enough he touches her, trailing fingers across the bare skin of her shoulder and tangling them in her hair.

when he kisses her, she feels powerful enough to undo the world.

so there’s that now, spending her nights with her grandmother and her prince, and she knows how to make her own legs now, could walk onto land and be made a queen among the two legged men.

but she’s a princess here first, and before she can do that she needs to take care of something.

ursula.

the rotten sea witch with her rotten sea magic won’t be allowed to torment her people any longer.

she tells her grandmother, and amphitrite smiles and says, “an excellent decision, child. i’ve enjoyed our time together, but i think it’s time for me to sleep once more. i’ve taught you everything i can.”

and tears prick ariel’s eyes, but she holds them back. she knew that it couldn’t be forever, that her grandmother can’t die but no longer desires to live and this is the in-between.

“you’ll be an amazing queen,” amphitrite murmurs, and closes her eyes for a millennia more.

this isn’t something to be done in the dead of night, although it would be easier to do it then.

she will make a spectacle of it, she will remind the sea that her people are not to be trifled with.

once upon a time they feared a blue eyed, red haired sea queen with the power to destroy them all. it’s time for them to do so again.

so she drives ursula to the center of the city. her sisters cower and people hide, and her father comes rushing forward to save her.

“you’ve committed great crimes against my people,” she says, not flinching as lightning gathers in the sea witch’s hands, “so now shall a great crime be committed against you.”

“foolish girl,” the sea witch snarls.

triton is yelling. he won’t get there in time.

he doesn’t have to.

she doesn’t need to sing anymore. instead she lifts her hands and pulls ursula apart without ever touching her, not only renders flesh from bone but also sets free the souls she’s been hoarding, reverses the magic done to those who’d fallen into the sea witch’s trap.

they all stare at her, her people, her father, and her sisters. she looks to triton and says, “i’m not a little girl anymore.”

he opens his mouth, closes it again, then says, “i can see that.”

all at once everyone’s perceptions are turned sideways about their youngest princess. she commands a power that even her father doesn’t have access to, she’s not depressed and dreamy – she’s powerful young woman who knows exactly what she’s doing.

so she does what she wanted to do, she gives herself legs and steps onto the sand and launches herself into eric’s arms. she becomes his bride, and the rumors run rampant of what she is, of where she came from, but they can’t prove anything and so they rule.

they live long, happy lives. ariel is his consort, his advisor, his wife, his tactician, and his best friend. all those years reading drowned books have certainly paid off. she ages herself along with her husband, bears his children and then teaches them they ways of her – their – people.

her husband dies, and she disappears, like the stories of selkie women that everyone whispers around her. their children give their father a sea burial, and vow to see him again one day. what they know and none of their subjects do is this – their father’s body isn’t in that casket.

she returns to her ocean, her legs form into her glittering green tail, and she goes home. she uses her terribly powerful magic, and brings her husband with her. she went from princess ariel of the sea to queen ariel of the land, and now she’s back again.

she’s not quite a teenager, but neither is she the old woman she pretended to be on land. she’s returned her and her husband to the prime of their life, and as she gained legs to be with him, he now gives his up to be with her.

eric becomes a merman, and a prince by virtue of being ariel’s husband.

she returns to her family and her world without missing a beat, and they all welcome her as if she never left, treat her husband with kindness and respect.

because they all know.

it doesn’t matter that she’s the youngest. when, far in the future, triton’s reign ends –

ariel’s reign will begin.

Adding to canon is not the same thing as destroying canon

At San Diego Comic Con, we learned that Sonequa Martin-Green’s character, Michael Burnham, is Sarek’s adoptive daughter. The second I heard the news, all I could think was, “Let the hate begin.” And boy, did it ever.

I understand the disappointment, particularly with fan fic writers who invested a lot of time and effort into crafting stories that fit neatly into canon. Amazing how one sound bite can bulldoze right through decades of widely accepted fanon, huh?

Keep reading

I am in my own Harry Potter AU hell.

And just because I can:

“Dad…” 

Malfoy looked up from his desk, quill poised over the parchment as his son hovered by the study door. Aware that he was frowning, Draco lifted his expression into something more neutral. He was vaguely aware of his own father always frowning whenever he’d tried to talk to him as a boy, and he didn’t want Scorpius to one day think the same about him.

“Come in, come in. Shut the door, you’ll let the heat out.” 

The Greengrass estate was a crumbling ruin compared to Malfoy Manner, with only half the library and none of the artifacts Draco had spent the last few years archiving and putting safely away behind spelled glass. But for now it was home, chilly stone walls and all.

“Did you want something?”

“Yes.” Scorpius replied, pausing to tug at the hem of his dark shirt. There’s still a bruise under his eye, faded to be sure, but the mere presence of it made Draco’s heart skip a beat. When he’d seen Severus Potter crawling out of the rubble, face covered in blood and no sign of his own son, he’d known terror like no other.

And Draco Malfoy was intimately familiar with the machinations of terror. He’d been hugged by it once.

“Well,” he prompted, setting aside his work entirely and giving his full attention to his son. “What is it?”

“I want my friends to come visit.”

Draco blinked. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. “Your…friends?”

“Albus Potter and Rosie Granger-Weasley. I would like them to come stay.”

Draco blinked again. Later he’d laugh—somewhat despairingly into a decanter of fire brandy—at the absurdity of the notion that his boy, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, was best friends with a Potter and the hybrid off-spring of a Granger Weasley, but the threat of impeding hysterics was quelled under the defiant gaze of his son, narrow chin lifting at some unspoken challenge. 

“I see. For how long?”

“A…a week…maybe two…They’re going to France for the Quiditch Cup Primaries…” he glanced down and Draco spied the curled up parchment hidden up his sleeve. “So it wouldn’t be for long.”

Draco glanced at his desk, to the fireplace, then back to his son. “I don’t…”

I want my friends…friendshow often had Astoria lamented his lack of playmates as a child, how often had she fretted that Scorpius’ only interaction had been with adults—or books, or enchanting his own toys for someone to play with. And how quickly had Scorpius’ face crumpled at the utterance of two simple syllables. 

“…know if two weeks would be wise, given your mother’s health. She’s still recovering from the move. But I shall discuss it with her, and see what can be done.”

Scorpius stilled, the beaming smile on his face reigned in to something calmer, even now, not wanting to get his hopes up too much. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, we will be good.”

Draco snorted at that, remembering the last time a Malfoy, a Potter and a Granger and a Weasley had been together at their age. “Somehow I doubt it. Go on off you go, go see what your mother is up to. She’s enjoying having you home.”

“And I am enjoying being here,” Scorpius replied, in that curiously courteous and stiff way of speaking he’d always had, even as an infant learning his words. “I am happy to be here, with you, and mother.”

“I’m…very glad to hear it.” Draco replied, unsure what else he was supposed to say to such an open admission said so politely like one was discussing the weather. “Now go on, off you go, I need to finish this manuscript before I lose the thought.”

“You’ll talk to mother though, wont you?” Scorpius pressed from his space by the door. “You’ll ask…”

“Yes, yes.” Draco waved a hand, “I’ll ask if the Potter spawn can come stay with us. Just for a little bit. To say thank you for…everything.”

Reassured, Scorpius left, closing the door behind himself with a firm click. 

Draco waited several more moments, counting to a hundred before opening up the top desk of his drawer and pulling out his correspondence folder, flipping through them until he found the appropriate manila envelope, writing the address of the Ministry Neatly to the front. 

Clearing his throat politely, he composed himself, then tapped it to life with his wand.

“Hello Potter,” he spat with a vicious familiar glee, unable to keep from laughing, “I’m not sure which one of us is going to be more surprised by this turn of events, but I swear to gods if you break my son’s heart by saying no, I will personally send you a red Howler on the hour every hour till the day one of us dies. Now, about dates, the last week in June works well for us…”

Peanut Butter Cookies

*throws allergic!Lance at you and runs away*

Summary: When Pidge’s birthday rolls around, Allura remembers her offhand comment about liking peanut butter. Little did she know that Lance is actually very, very allergic. (angst and fluff, and a bit of established klance because I have no self control and I ship it leave me alone)

I hardly ever post anything because I have no confidence ha so if you like it, let me know! This is very short compared to lots of other stuff I’ve written.

@taylor-tut I don’t think this is that good or even if it counts as langst/whump but I’ll tag you anyway and @voltronpaella thanks for actually getting me to post this my dude


When Allura called the Paladins into the kitchen, Lance expected some sort of emergency.

Why they’d be meeting in the kitchen, he had no idea, but he slid out of bed regardless. After removing his face mask he padded out into the hall, slightly resentful that he didn’t have time to straighten his hair.

Lance nearly bumped into Hunk in the hallway, who was also still in pajamas. The two were the last to arrive in the kitchen. He surveyed the others and found Shiro in full armor, Keith with an activated bayard, and Pidge rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with a laptop tucked under her arm.

“Princess, we’ve talked about this,” Lance grumbled. “You have got to stop interrupting my beauty sleep.”

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anonymous asked:

How would you describe Oedipus? I've been asking around and most people either give a generic description or "motherf*king" jokes so I was wondering how you'd describe his story? I see it as tragic but I just can't seem to paint the story from my mind to my mouth. I'm clumsy with words but I admire yours. You have this way with powerful, lingering stories, haunting tells and perfect endings. So.. how would describe the tragic hero named Oedipus?

oh, it’s a tragedy, of course it’s a tragedy, how can it be anything else?

but i think the tragedy is not in his actions, not in the father he killed nor the mother he wed nor the children he sired. no, it’s not in what he did, it’s in who he was, the tragedy here is that oedipus was a good man and a good king and unlike so many mythical figures, he did not reap what he sowed

the tragedy here is not that he was human and erred and suffered due to his errors.

it’s that he did not err, and suffered, it’s that the sins of our fathers are our sins too and we cannot escape them

the oracle of delphi gave a prophecy that foretold that any son of king laius would kill his father and marry his mother. so when his wife and queen jocasta bore him a son, he had the baby’s ankles nailed together and ordered him to be left to die.

laius erred. laius planned to kill his son of blood, who had committed no crime, who was in perfect health,  who had done nothing but be born. it is laius who committed the sin of infanticide, and through this sin all other such events transpired

a shepherd spirits the infant away instead of leaving him to die, and he is eventually brought to the house of king polybus and queen merope, where he is adopted. laius and jocasta have no more children, even though this leaves laius heirless. since we know jocasta will later bear four more children, we know it is not her whom is the issue here. after laius commits this grievous crime, he is left sterile, and this, here, is where i believe the curse truly begins.

the curse over thebes does not begin with oedipus’s rule, with his supposed transgressions. it begins with his father’s sin.

oedipus grows up a devoted and loving son. he eventually hears rumors about his strange birth and consults the same oracle his birth father had, and is told the same prophecy. not knowing he’s adopted, he think the prophecy refers to polybus and merope, and he flees his home, horrified at the thought that he could ever harm his beloved parents in such a way.

he’s traveling, and upon a crossroads he meets his birth father, laius. they do not know or recognize eachother. they quarrel about who may precede first. it’s important to note that laius is the one who attacks first, who’s so offended that this unknown man will not move for a king that he tries to kill him, unknowingly attempting to murder his son a second time.

oedipus kills laius, not knowing he’s a king or his father, rather than let himself be killed, and fulfills the first part of the prophecy. once again, it is laius’s actions that are the incendiary actions here. if he had not attempted to kill oedipus, perhaps he wouldn’t have died. if he hadn’t thrown his son away, oedipus never would have killed him, since he was so aghast at the possibility of harming his adopted parents that he ran from his home and his life rather than risk it.

oedipus acts in self defense. even if he hadn’t, laius had already tried to kill him once, although neither of them had been aware of it. a trial by combat would be the least of what oedipus would be owed. he breaks no laws, does not act in hate or malice or fear. oedipus kills laius, kills his father, but no great sin is committed. patricide is a sin, but defending yourself is not, refusing to die is not a sin.

so he travels, and lands upon thebes, where a sphinx has taken residence, eating anyone who attempts to enter the city and cannot answer it’s riddle, effectively cutting off all trade to thebes and trapping all its residents inside, lest they leave and never be able to return. was the sphinx here when laius left? we do not know. it doesn’t say.

but if it was – did laius leave his city to die? was this sphinx just another piece of the curse laius had brought down upon thebes by attempting kill his freshly born son?

oedipus, a cleverer man than any who have yet tried to enter thebes, answers the sphinx’s riddle, and the creature leaves, having been defeated by this man’s intellect.

oedipus is a man who has shown himself to be strong enough to kill a king, and clever enough to defeat a sphinx. he has not harmed any who did not first try to harm him, was so against committing harm against those he cared about that he simply left them behind. oedipus so far has shown no fatal flaw, no poor judgement, nothing damning or ruinous.

jocasta’s brother, creon, had said any man who could rid thebes of the sphinx would be named king, and given his sister’s hand in marriage. oedipus had not known about this before arriving. he had not come to thebes with the intention of becoming king.

but king he becomes.

he is given jocasta’s hand in marriage, and the final portion of the prophecy is complete. he weds and bed and fathers children with his birth mother.

notice, however, that this only happens in the first place because of how honorable and kind oedipus is to begin with.

jocasta is in her forties, at least. she may be a beautiful woman, but she’s not a young woman. yet there are no accounts of oedipus being unfaithful, or cruel. jocasta bears him four children, two sons and two daughters, when during those long years after oedipus she had not had another child with laius. if oedipus had rejected this widowed queen, said her age made her unsuitable, had taken mistresses, had kept her as a wife in name only – then perhaps so much pain could have been spared.

but he didn’t do that. oedipus took a wife twice his age, at best, took a woman who was not a virgin, who had been the wife of this land’s former king, and he dedicates himself to her. he is faithful and attentive, and she must be fond of him, because she later tries to shield him from the truth when she uncovers it.

which part of his actions can we take account with? yes, jocasta was his mother, and it is incest – but he didn’t know that. he didn’t want that. to do otherwise than what he did, to cast aside his gifted bride, could only be considered cruelty. and oedipus was not cruel.

many years after this marriage, a plague strikes thebes. why is not clear, because if it were truly due to oedipus’s actions, to the gods taking offense at this incestuous union between mother and father-killer, surely it would not have taken years to come to fruition?

but a plague comes, and the oracle says that the only way to lift it is to see that laius’s killer is brought to justice.

(is it laius, yet again, bringing sorrow upon his city? is it his restless spirit which curses all of thebes? it is a strange coincidence that the infertility which he was cursed with after trying to kill his infant son is the same plight that now faces all of thebes.)

and of course, of course, honorable and kind oedipus vows to bring the killer to justice, says that this killer will be exiled for his crime of murdering the king.

exiled, not killed, what a peculiar punishment, what a merciful punishment for a king killer, what a merciful judgement from a merciful man.

but things unravel, as they do. he tells creon to bring him the blind prophet tiresias, who tells oedipus that he must stop digging into this matter. but the good of his city is at stake, so he can’t, of course he can’t, and tiresias calls him false for not knowing his true parentage. he and creon quarrel, and slowly, oh so slowly, the truth comes out.

a messenger comes, saying that his adopted father has died, and oedipus is relieved. not for any malicious reasons, but because it means he won’t fulfill his prophecy of murdering him. he refuses to go home because merope is still there, refuses to take up the title of king that is surely his by right, because he fears harming his mother. when the messenger says that oedipus is adopted, and there’s no reasons for him not to go home, jocasta finally realizes that oedipus is her son. she begs him to stop his search for laius’s killer, desperate to keep the truth from him.

jocasta knows, and tries to protect oedipus. she must believe he’s worthy of being on the throne, he must have showed her kindness and affection if she’s so desperate to protect him from the truth, even at the expense of the well being of thebes.

but oedipus does not listen. he leaves, and finds the shepherd who gave him to his adopted parents so long ago, and discovers the truth.

he is the son of lauis and jocasta. lauis is the man he killed at the crossroads. he has killed his fathe and married his mother, all them each unaware of each other.

after this, there are differing accounts of what happened next.

sophocles’s account is most popular. he returns to find his wife and mother jocasta has killed herself, and he takes the pins from her broach and blinds himself, unable to stand the sight of her. he is then exiled, as he said laius’s killer would be, and his daughter antigone guides him until he dies soon after.

in euripides’s version, jocasta does not kill herself. oedipus is blinded by a servant of laius, and so justice is still served to laius’s killer, and he continues to rule thebes. i like to think jocasta rules with him, alive and well, because she no more deserved death than oedipus deserved blindness.

the tragedy here is not in oedipus. it is in lauis, the clear villain of this story, the one who damned and hurt and cursed all around him. he who caused so much strife, and then left it all for his son to fix, for his son to struggle with.

but he did fix it.

oedipus was a fair and just ruler of thebes, a kind husband to jocasta, a good father to his children, from all accounts, since antigone was so devoted to him, and he was disappointed in his sons for their selfishness because that’s not how he raised them.

perhaps oedipus is a story of how our fathers, our predecessors, those who come before us will curse us and damn us and leave us more problems than solutions can be found

perhaps oedipus is a cautionary tale, and our tragic figure is not oedipuis, but laius, who made his own ruin, who’s spiteful hands left scars on all they touched.

oedipus is a tragedy, but only because it reminds us that our own undoing, our own unhappy endings, aren’t necessarily within our control. our own tragedies may not be our fault, may not be due to our mistakes, maybe we didn’t earn our unhappiness.

it’s not fair.

it’s not fair, and that’s the true tragedy of oedipus. that good, kind, clever, merciful people can do their absolute best, can show kindness and sacrifice and love, and in the end it won’t be able to save them from the mistakes other people have made.

oedipus was a good man, and a good king, and it may not have saved him – but it saved all those in thebes.

yes, oedipus was blinded. yes, jocasta died.

but the spinx was gone, their line continued, and thebes thrived.

the tragedy of oedipus is the idea that we’re not in control of our own destiny.

the triumph of oedipus is the idea that we need not control it in order to have a destiny worth remembering.

Love Always Wakes the Dragon

(and suddenly flames everywhere)

It could be worse. You do have all the luxuries befitting a princess, though one charged with treason. But a gilded cage is still a cage. And the prospect of withering away in this, the tallest tower of the Palace of Asgard, in the same place where your once-betrothed will live and marry and rule from, it’s almost too much to bear.


author: sugardaddytonystark (formerly buckysbackpackbuckle)
pairing: Thor x Jotun!Reader
word count: 4067
warnings: brat prince Thor, unprotected sex, oral sex, hair pulling, choking

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In the Wake of Scandal

(manga spoilers)

At 3:05 am, Izuku did something he hadn’t done in the last four years.

He logged out of his HeroForum account.

It was a forum he’d stumbled upon back in middle school, on the recommendation of a friend-of-a-friend, and he’d lost four straight nights of sleep that first week digging in deeper and farther to what it offered. He dug until he was commenting on All Might Quirk Theory threads that were three-years-dead, until he made a name for himself almost overnight as an overwhelming bastion of hero trivia.

The forum had only grown in the meantime. It blew up at every skirmish. It tracked hero movements moment by moment, pinning locations and encouraging other members in the area to flock if they could. One time, it was shut down for an entire week when a thirteen year old boy stumbled into villain cross-fire while trying to follow the forum’s pin on the hero Momentum.

The HeroForum was Izuku’s everything for keeping tabs on the world he loved. Even after meeting All Might, even after his acceptance to UA, “MightyBoy64”s presence didn’t falter. In fact, Izuku fantasized about the day that he, as a pro hero, revealed himself to be in charge of the MightBoy64 alias. He fantasized about how loyal fans and avid readers would burst to learn one of the forum’s biggest names had gone pro through UA.

Izuku now tucked those fantasies away in the back of his mind. Embarrassed, or ashamed, or maybe just disgusted.

At 3:05 am, MightyBoy64 logged out. And he would not come back.

Instead Izuku put his phone in his pocket. And he rose from the couch in the Class 1-A dorm living room. He navigated to Shouto Todoroki’s room, and he knocked.  At 3:07 am, Shouto answered.

“Can I come in?” Izuku asked. All the room’s lights were on, a soft glow against the tatami mat flooring.

“Yeah,” Shouto answered. He didn’t ask why.

Izuku walked in, aimless at first, before choosing the wall across from Shouto’s desk and sitting cross-legged on the floor, back leaning against it for support. His phone burned in his pocket.

“I was studying for the English test Monday, but I can’t practice dialogue out loud on my own,” Izuku said. He uncrossed his legs and recrossed them more comfortably. “Are you busy? Want to practice with me?”

Shouto sat down again at his desk. He considered it. “Okay.”

Izuku’s fingers twitched, itched, possessed with the subconscious desire to take his phone back out and consume the HeroForum posts like a starved dog digging into fresh meat. He couldn’t help it. It was in his nature.

Especially as the hero scandal of the decade was unfolding.

Whole forums had crashed under the weight of debate. And HeroForum had swelled to near bursting in the last 12 hours as more and more fans flocked to gossip and argue and pry and wring forth every last drop of information they could about the chaos unfolding in the hero world.

Affairs struck the hero world on occasion. Fights between heroes and reporters, displays of public drunkenness, petit theft, public indecency. Silly yarns of gossip that got hero fans through the day were the norm.

This was the first time a hero had been arrested under the accusation of rampant, violent child-abuse.

This was the first time a scandal had struck a hero whose name was known to every breathing person in Japan.

And this was the second time a #1 ranked hero had fallen. All Might only months prior in a battle that obliterated the last of his power.

And Endeavor now, shackled and jailed under allegations of child abuse, felled by an accusation which had been filed by his own up-and-coming hero son, who stated in his only public address that he just hadn’t ever felt heroic enough before to do what needed to be done.

And the name Shouto Todoroki exploded across every forum site imaginable. Izuku had seen it all. Izuku felt sick to his stomach.

Clips of the televised UA Sports Festival were passed around with fervor, every frame inspected for the sake of passing judgement on Endeavor’s son. Every quirk of Shouto’s eyebrow, every shift of his eyes, every tilt of the head—was it the body language of an abused child? Of a liar? Of an attention-seeker?  Of someone looking to destroy his father and take his place in the public eye?

Fiery callous rants tore away at the character of Shouto Todoroki; others dissected Enji Todoroki, and explained how from the very start the man should have been pegged a monster. Threads hit their post limit. Servers crashed. Fan sites of Endeavor came under storm.

“Midnight’s-Man-X” called it petty for Shouto to accuse the father that he no longer lived with. “AllSuperFan100” lauded it as brave. “HeroMight12” wrote a rant, 13,500 words in length, about how the state of the world could not afford to lose another #1 hero so quickly, given how unstable the environment had only just become, how many more lives may be at risk now, and that it was ultimately selfish for Shouto to rob Japan of its #1 hero so soon after All Might’s fall.

MightyBoy64 tried once, just once, to explain why Shouto had done the right thing. Why letting his father cement his role as the #1 hero would be wrong. Why Enji Todoroki deserved to face justice for what he did, in the face of the overwhelming of evidence against him in the form of Enji’s own meticulously-documented “training plan” which he had put Shouto through.

And Izuku had been too horrified by the replies to try to argue any further. Because all of them, whether agreeing or not, did something vicious to Shouto Todoroki. They reduced him to a character, a prop, a toy to be tossed about and chewed over and twisted in favor their own political view. Shouto Todoroki wasn’t real to these people.

And maybe, if Izuku had never come to UA, Shouto Todoroki wouldn’t have been real to him either.

So he’d logged out, and forced the forums from his mind, and sat now on the smooth ridged tatami matting, his fingers trailing along its bumps. Izuku watched Shouto’s face, his scar thin and stretched at the edges, his cheeks round and soft under the lamplight. His bangs were loose and messy, as though Shouto had been running his fingers through his hair too often lately, and his eyes were lined in a bruising purple, as though he were a real person wrung through the stress of being reduced to a prop at the hands of millions of people.

“…Present Mic said we just need to hold a conversation with him using 20 vocab words from this unit. I’ll start,” Izuku said. He pushed himself higher against the wall, and he breathed in deep, thinking about the English sounds he struggled most to pronounce. “Are you alright, Todoroki-kun?”

Shouto looked at him, silent a moment. Then answered in Japanese, “Isn’t this unit on vacation activities?”

“I’m getting there.” Izuku leaned forward, more heart in his words. “How are you feeling, Todoroki-kun? Aren’t you tired?”

Shouto still hesitated, though not as long this time.

“No. I’m not tired. Are you?”

“No, I’m not. I will stay here with you, and practice English, so we will do well on the test. What is your favorite ice cream flavor?”

Shouto looked down at his desk briefly. Izuku caught a glimpse of papers that looked far too official for UA class notes. His eyes flickered to the laptop open next to them, displaying a blank new tab, though the row of tabs along the top suggested an endless cascade of news articles open on Shouto’s laptop.

Shouto eased the laptop shut, pushed his chair away from his desk, and he stood. He moved to Izuku and lowered himself to the floor, leaning against the wall, until the pent up tension in his shoulders eased, and the back of his head touched the wall, and he breathed deep. His whole body became something smaller, and more child-like, and more relaxed. The exhaustion in his eyes became something just a bit less tense.

“I like chocolate ice cream best, Midoriya-kun. How about you?”

Fruits - Peter Parker

request -  hi! i was wondering if you could write something about a peter x fem!reader where she’s homeschooled and doesn’t have friends and then she meets peter and they become close ? thanks!! 

a/n - i changed the request up a bit, and made the reader tony’s daughter to give it an even more ‘fluffy’ feel to it and i think it failed horribly BUT thank you so much for 1k!!! i can’t even believe all the love i’m getting for these fics, it makes me so happy to know you guys like them :) don’t forget to request a peter parker/spider-man fic if you’d like and follow!

I sat at the dining table just across from the living room, headphones in as I watched a math lesson that was just uploaded onto my school’s website. It was just around 10 AM when my school day started, a bowl of freshly cut fruits on the table as I took notes in my small book, sometimes glancing around to see if something more entertaining was going on.

Being the kid of a billionaire had it’s perks, but some downsides to it as well. Sure, I was able to access anything through money, but I was stuck at home a good 99% of my life, hidden away from the public eye at the request of my father. I’ve never been able to go to school and have a ‘normal’ life, with my only friends being the middle aged people the world calls the Avengers.

I paused the lesson and took my headphones out, heading out to the kitchen counter to pour a cup of coffee for myself, only to hear the door opening.

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Blue Suede Shoes

Originally posted by inkedcross

Guys I wrote smut! finally. This was an idea that just popped into my head thanks to @mizpahes this is a single one shot, I might make it a series for decade!harry though so let me know what you think

masterlist [send requests]

50s!harry 

warnings: smut. its smut.

word count: 3,655

summary: the one where Harry takes his sweetheart out to a drive in movie 


The 1950’s, a decade made for teen rebellion. Of course, no one over the age of 30 would know that though. The movement was as silent and effective as a speakeasy of the 1920’s, it was popular only to those involved. Teenagers went out every weekend on innocent dates, they’d get dropped off at home with a polite kiss on the cheek only to come back a few hours later to sneak into their lovers room, or out, for that matter. America was thriving after the war and so was the Styles family.

Harry had moved to the states with his family after his father got a job offer to work for Cadillac. He was the best car dealer in Manchester and they needed someone like him working for their brand. So, the Styles’ were given their very own Cadillac dealership in the suburbs of New York and became an instant hit. Wealth hit them faster than they could even say the word ‘sold’, and Harry found himself gaining popularity at his High School just as quickly.

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Simmer // Archie Andrews

Summary: Archie and you have a fight when Veronica can’t seem to understand that Archie isn’t single but that doesn’t stop her from kissing him. During ‘Secrets and Sins’ some things you didn’t know are revealed causing a rift but with the sex be enough to convince you how much Archie cares?

Characters: Reader x Archie Andrews, Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones, Veronica Lodge, Kevin Keller, Cheryl Blossom, Chuck Clayton, Dilton Doiley, FP Jones, Jason Blossom (mentioned) and Ms. Grundy (mentioned).

Words: 3126

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Riverdale or the characters involved. Some parts of the dialogue from the episode has been changed to fit the fic.

Warnings: Swearing, underage drinking, party, fighting, and smut.

Author: Caitsy

A/N: This was two requests I put into one!

Master List

Prompt List

ASK US A QUESTION LIST

Originally posted by riverdalesource

The minute Archie told you about Betty throwing Jughead a birthday party you knew it would go bad. When you were young Mrs. Jones would babysit you for extra cash, your parents doubled the average pay to her. That meant you grew up close with Jughead as if you were siblings or really close cousins and you knew how much he hated his birthday.

You were shocked when Archie allowed the get together build into a fill fledged high school part with two kegs in attendance. Your boyfriend was acting odd but refused to tell you why and you didn’t appreciated Veronica making eyes at your oblivious boyfriend.

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anonymous asked:

Could you possibly do a mafia!daddy!phil × pastel!little!Dan ? ?? Cause that hc is freaking grEAT (possibly some smut?)

Prompt: dan wearing those cute velvet shorts you see on Instagram and phil can’t keep his hands off of him. (mafia!daddy!phil and whiny!little!dan?)

Oral fixation pastel Dan is all I beg you for

can i pleeease have some more little dan with oral fixation??? 

Here y’all go. Plus dirty talk, exhibitionism, and cockslut!dan. If you have trouble getting past the cut on mobile, open in your browser.

Being the son of the boss always has it perks, but when your father is the boss of the mafia, the fringe benefits are almost endless. It certainly isn’t the most relatable circumstance, but Phil Lester is acutely aware of the privilege his heritage brings. His family has never had any financial issues, and, although it may not be the most honest money, it made for a very comfortable childhood. Growing up, Phil never had to worry about being bullied in school – even though he was a fairly strange, quirky kid that would usually attract that kind of negative energy in the cesspool of teenage hormones that is high school, everyone was well aware of who his father was and what he could do, so he was left well alone. Now that he’s older, his blood keeps on giving in the form of a large house in London and connections with almost every business in a ten kilometre radius. That’s not to say Phil has had an easy life, but his problems are quite disparate from the average persons’. He may be rich with a notorious last name that opens back doors, but he does live with the constant knowledge that he may be shot dead at any moment, so he supposes it all evens out.

He works as part of the family, of course. That’s how the mob operates and, although he’s had his fair share of morality crises, he enjoys it. He’s not the eldest son, so, as long as nothing happens to Martyn, he isn’t expected to take over when his father – willingly, or otherwise – steps down, but he is still in control of some aspects of it. He supposes he’s a capo, in a way, being able to give orders to soldiers to do the bidding that’s sometimes his own, and sometimes passed down to him from his father. Most of the members he ranks above are considerably older than him, considering he’s only twenty-five, and he can tell from the hard look in their eyes when he gives orders that they’re not exactly thrilled about that. It doesn’t really matter, though, because to go against Phil is to go against the boss and, unless they’re actively looking to be killed, that’s not a very bright idea.

Phil’s seen a lot of shit since being inducted into the business at twenty. Before that, his father always kept things vague and the gory details hidden, probably more on Phil’s mothers’ wishes than his own, but the reality of what being in the mafia involves couldn’t be sugar-coated for him forever. He’s seen theft, assault, battery, and a fair share of murder. It’s not what Phil would call ideal, but it comes with the kill-or-be-killed lifestyle. He’s pretty much desensitised to the horror of it all by this point, but there is one incident that affected him above any other; it was also the chain of events that led to him meeting Dan.

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I’ll Fight for You- Part I- Sweet Pea x Reader

Originally posted by forsythpjones

Fandom: Riverdale

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Female!Jones!Reader, Jughead Jones x Sister!Reader

Words: 1781

Warning(s): Violence, Maybe some swearing

Description: (SERIES) Being the sister to the infamous Jughead Jones comes with its perks. One of those perks is the chance to get close to a certain serpent.

Tagged: @hanane-billy12

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Bruises On Another (part two)

Originally posted by buckyssteves

Prompt: Steve doesn’t know where they come from, and he isn’t exactly sure why they’re there. All he knows is that his body is littered in bruises, and there’s something different about them. They aren’t just bruises, and they certainly didn’t come from a trip in a step or clumsiness. No, Steve knows there’s more behind the marks that litter his body.

THIS IS A SERIES: one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - finale

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Warnings: marks, bruises, pain, physical abuse, etc. I mean no disrespect to anyone or to upset anyone, this story starts off rough but I can say that things will get better.

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. It doesn’t have to be long, I appreciate every single comment I receive and telling me just helps inspire me to write it more frequently.

P.S. This a soulmate AU.

Tag’s List: @slythergirlimagines - @agentwhlskey - @impulsivesuperrobin - @darlingimawriter - @starshininginthedark - @jxhn-mxrphy - @audreysduvxl - @patronuscas - @ninjacookiegirl - @losers-club-imagines-and-stuff - @evelxn-cruz - @lovatoarchives - @justanothermarvelfan - @hey-margot - @draussen-ist-freiheit - @pennywyatt - @ordinarily-weird - @theloveisgoodbadours - @delicrieux - @burgerrroll - @kingham-writes - @suicidesqwads - @i-hate-the-pie-people - @slightly-depressed-idiot - @winter111502 - @chasestudy - @simplyhollander - @jessie9008 - @poppunkdork - @almusanzug - @babyhollands
Want to be featured on the tag’s list? Message me letting me know!
bolded is who I couldn’t tag!


You left you last class of the day as quickly as you could. It wasn’t that it was per-say a bad class, or that the entire day had been bad, but the people in the room itself made you uncomfortable and you’ve never been one for socializing. Not to mention you couldn’t shake the sight of that boy, who you’d learned was Steve when Mr. Jones had called on him, had the exact same bruise on the exact same eye as you.

It must of be coincidence. That was the only logical explanation but you’ve see the bruise on your eyes enough times to know that the bruise on that boys face was identical to yours. Not just in the same place, but where the bruise faded and where it begun was exactly the same. You’d never seen anything like it, and you just knew that avoiding Steve was your best case scenario. It wouldn’t be good to get involved with a boy and you knew your father wouldn’t like it.

Once you made your way outside of the classroom, your fingers found the same sheet of paper before and with delicate fingers you searched for your locker number. You soon enough found it and once you did, your eyes begun to glance around the halls for the matching locker. Surprisingly it seemed this time it didn’t take you as long to find what you were looking for and you mentally sighed in relief, the sooner you were able to put your books away the sooner you could get home and you knew that’s what your father liked best.

Dialling the code into the lock, it soon enough popped open and you swung open your locker. You didn’t dwell long at the sight of your very old and very ruined locker, opting instead for shoving your books inside and shutting it the minute you were done. Once the books were out of your hand, you glanced around the busy hallway for a moment and paused in thought. This was to be the rest of your year, spending half of it in this hellhole and the other half at home where it was hell.

Your hand found its way to your neck where you found a necklace, the necklace that never seemed to leave your neck no matter what. To bite down the sickness that welled within you, you gripped the necklace pendant; a gold bird with it’s wings spread and felt some of your anxiety lessen. 

Though as you stood there, your eyes met a familiar brown pair and you paused. There was a second that you just stared into his eyes before you shook your head and turned the other way. You were meant to stay away from him, not literally gaze into his eyes from afar like some romantic drama. So that’s what you did, and soon enough you found yourself on the path towards home, clutching your backpack strap nervously.

Your arm ached but you ignored the pain and instead focused on the peaceful walk home. This new path home seemed to be your only solace now as it gave you time to truly be alone and by yourself. And as you walked you let your mind wander over just exactly how your life had turned this way. You thought about your old life, in Florida and realized how much you truly missed it. Your father and you had moved to Hawkin’s so abruptly and quickly it’d never really given you the time to think about everything. And now that you were here, you realized you’d give anything to go back to the way the things were.

Though, as always, the peace never did quite last long and soon enough you found yourself in front of your front door, just staring at it. You couldn’t quite describe the feeling that welled within you, knowing what waited behind the door but you knew you couldn’t avoid it anymore.

It was inevitable.

So slowly you slid your house key into the deadbolt and unlocked the door. You’d done this for so many days, you’d expected to grow use to the feeling by now but still you couldn’t seem to get ride of the weighing feeling that fell upon your shoulders or the way your hands began to shake in dread. You swung the door open and were relieved to see no one else around, and taking a step in you slipped off your shoes.

“Father?” You called softly, your voice barely above a whisper; just like it had been for so long.

You thought for a moment that you were in luck and you made your way to the staircase in relief but then footsteps echoed and a hand caught your arm. You closed your eyes for a moment, before turning around and meeting the gaze of your father. “Father.” You repeated, this time as a statement and respectively smiled his way. 

“You’re home late.” Was all your father said in a gruff voice.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and laughed lightly; “only a few minutes. And besides, it was the first day-” You stopped speaking the moment you felt his grip tighten, considerably, and bit your lip. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“How many times have I told you-” Your father began and you felt the sinking feeling within you grow as you knew that he wasn’t going to just let this pass. “I want you home before four thirty, no later. And I expect dinner to be ready by five.” 

“Yes,” was all you said.

Your father tugged you forward harshly, making you nearly trip over your own two feet as you narrowly missed falling down the stairs. Once your feet met solid ground, you straightened yourself out, trying to ignore the way your breath grew heavy and glanced back at your father nervously. You hated the way he glared at you, as if you’d actually done something wrong. Something more than arrive home a few minutes late.

“Dinner.” Your father ordered, letting go of your hand and you sighed in relief, the pain lessening considerably. “I expect it to be ready by five.” You nodded, knowing better than to speak and your father shoved in you in the direction of the kitchen harshly. This time you weren’t so lucky, and you tripped over your own feet and fell to the ground.

You let out a soft groan as your knees smacked against the hardwood and as you glanced behind you, you found your father already gone. Taking a deep breath, you ignored the pain in your knee and crawled up. With shame you made your way into the kitchen and leaned against the kitchen counter with a heavy sigh. You clenched your fists tightly, ignoring the way your nails dug into your palm and felt your body shake.

This was nothing new but yet every time it happened, it seemed to upset you more.

How was this fair?


Steve stood next to Nancy, leaning against the lockers with a distant look as he heard the chatter from the girls beside him. Normally, despite the sometimes girly talk, he was much more involved but ever since yesterday he couldn’t seem to get the image of you out of his head. The same day you appeared, bruises begun to appear on his arm and there was something about you yesterday; something that seemed off.

Mind you, he’d only seen you in one class and the only thing Steve knew about you was that you were a new student… but there was a feeling within Steve. He couldn’t describe it- but there was just something.

“Steve?” Nancy called, glancing over at her boyfriend in wonder. Furrowing her brows when the boy didn’t answer, she waved her hand in front of his face; “Steve?” That seemed to snap him out of whatever stupor he’d been in and blinking, he shifted his body to glance at Nancy with curiosity.

“Uh- what?”

Nancy laughed and a smile slipped over her friends face; “I asked you a question.”

Steve blinked again, feeling guilt well within him at the fact that he hadn’t been listening. Shaking his head lightly, he shifted his body so he was leaning towards Nancy and crossed his arms over his chest, letting a smile fall across his lips. “Sorry. What was it?”

Nancy shook her head in response, “it’s nothing.” She replied, waving it off and Steve nodded in response. Before he knew it he found himself glancing around the hallway in distant thought and Nancy pursed her lips, glancing over at her friend in question who only shrugged in response. “Hey.” Nancy called, setting a hand on Steve’s arm as his gaze fell to hers once again. “What’s wrong? You’ve seem odd ever since yesterday.”

Steve paused; “it’s nothing.” He shrugged, not wanting to worry Nancy. Pausing a moment, he decided to ask the question that had been plaguing his mind. “Hey, have you guys seen the new girl?”

“The one with the H/C hair?” Nancy’s friend questioned and Steve nodded in response.

“Yeah, I helped her find her class yesterday. I think she has english with you.” Nancy answered and Steve nodded in response, his eyes looking around in thought. 

“Yeah-” He nodded, “yeah she does.”

“Why?”

“Oh nothing.” Steve waved off, “she just seemed a bit off.”

“Well she was wearing that thick sweater in this heat, which I have no idea how she wasn’t dying.” Nancy commented, narrowing her eyes in what seemed like concern for a moment before looking over at her friend. “And she almost seemed jumpy. When I went to hand her back this piece of paper, she jumped as if i’d hurt her or something.”

“I heard some girls saw her covering up a bruise yesterday in the bathroom.”

Steve paused, his face falling with realization and he glanced over at Nancy’s friend, who he’d never bothered to learn the name of and asked; “what?”

Nancy’s friend raised an eyebrow and blew a bubble with her bubblegum. “Yeah,” she shrugged, like it was no big deal which it really wasn’t. Wasn’t to everyone except Steve. “Apparently a huge bruise over her left eye, all purple and shit.” The girl explained, taking her hand to demonstrate further. Steve slumped against the locker in confusion- it must- it has be a coincidence.

“Much like your’s Steve.” Nancy commented off-handedly.

“Yeah…” He mumbled, not really thinking. He’d known something was off with you yesterday, especially when he’d met your eyes and you almost looked like you’d seen a ghost. A bruise… exactly on your left eye just like his and his own had appeared the same day you did. Steve shook his head, this was crazy. There was no possible way that you had something to do with the bruises appearing on his body…

right?

“There she is now.” Nancy spoke up, pulling Steve from his thoughts as he peered up and found you. Though his face fell when he saw exactly who you were with.

“With Billy?”


Part 3?

Let me know below!

"I'm gonna kill him" -- Pt 1

Imagine – You are forced into an arranged marriage

“We need this Y/N. Our family needs it”. My mother spoke, standing in front of me at her desk with my father. They wanted me to marry this wealthy Shadowhunter that came from a well known family tree.
“And what happens to what I want?”. I said, not lifting my head to look at them.
“Oh don’t be so selfish! We have given you wonderful opportunities and have gotten you so far in this institute, you owe this to us”. My mother snapped. My father blinked nervously until he spoke, “Anyway it’s done. He’s coming to the institute tomorrow where you will be married immediately. Everything will be set up, you just have to show up, do you think you could do that?”, he was so patronising.
I glared at them but there was nothing I could do. I had to do this for my family, “Just tell me the time and I’ll be there”.

I walked out of their office to be greeted by Izzy and Clary walking down the corridor, “Hey, what was that emergency meeting all about?”, Izzy asked whilst both of them linked each of my arms. I was training with her when I got ushered to my parents.
“Oh just stupid family drama, wanna go into town for drinks?”, I asked the both of them needing one last night out with my girls before my freedom would be taken away.
“Of course, give us half an hour and we’ll be ready!”. They both ran off to get all dolled up whilst I just went back to my room.

I sat on my bed and just went over what my parents had said to me, ‘Don’t be so selfish’. I’ve been everything but selfish. I have always put everyone before myself. A knock snapped me out of my thoughts. I got up to answer it, “Izzy I thought you said half an-”. I opened the door to Alec. “Sorry I thought you might have been Izzy and Clary”. I held the door open and motioned for him to come in.
“So what can I help you with?”. Me and Alec had been close for a while, we had a flirty relationship, it was playful, we knew we both liked each other.
“Erm…this sounds stupid but I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight…for dinner…just me and you?”. I was so happy, the big grin on my face supported this.
“Alec I would-“, then I remembered. “but I can’t”, I didn’t want to tell anyone of the marriage yet. “I’m going out with Clary and Izzy tonight around town”. I saw the disappointment on his face which broke me.
“But you can come too, you can bring Jace and Simon as well if you want”. His famous smirk was now visible, obviously pleased with the invitation.
“Sounds great, I’ll go get the others”. He left, grazing my arm with his hand as he walked past. I walked over to my wardrobe looking at the options for me to wear. I wasn’t in a mood to make an effort so black jeans and a T it was.

I lay down and waited for someone to come and get me. The next thing I knew I opened my eyes to Jace leaning over me at my bedside.
“Finally! I’ve been shouting you for like 10 minutes!”. I sat up and let my eyes adjust.
“I’m sorry I must have dozed off”.
Jace looked at me worriedly, “What is wrong with you lately?”.
“I’m just exhausted, and stressed with all the mission reports I’m so behind on. The clave is on my back a lot these past few weeks”.
“Well we don’t have to go out tonight we can always-“.
I cut him off, “NO no….I need this”. He nodded with a look of concern and put an arm around me as we walked to go and meet the others.

We arrived at the club. I walked in with Clary and Izzy by my side whilst the other guys followed us in as we had more experience with mundane clubs.

Three hours, 7 shots, 4 vodka & cokes and a bottle of Malibu later….lets just say I was a little more than tipsy. We were all sat in a booth on the far side of the club right next to the dance floor. Jace and Clary were in the middle of a make out session whilst Simon was watching star wars on his phone as Izzy had passed out with her legs across Simon and her head on my lap. Me and Alec were talking…well, he was talking, I was slurring, although I could feel the room gradually starting to spin slower. Then all of a sudden Alec kissed me. It was long, passionate and so overdue. The second we pulled apart my lips did something before my brain could think about it.
“I’m getting married tomorrow”. My eyes were still closed from the kiss and they stayed closed for a few more seconds as I was scared to see what his reaction would be. All of a sudden I felt completely sober. I opened my eyes and regretted it immediately. He looked heartbroken, confused, vulnerable and angry. All those emotions were showing on one face and I was the reason why. Before I could say anything else he was gone, running out of the club faster than I’ve ever seen someone move.
“ALEC-“, I called out but the music was too loud and he was too far away, he wouldn’t have even come back even if he did hear me. Jace must have heard me though as he broke apart from Clary and chased after Alec. I looked down at my lap, tears fell from my face and onto Izzy but she was dead to the world to notice. When I looked up I saw Clary and Simon look at me with an expression that said ‘you have some explaining to do’.

I woke up in Clary’s room. She didn’t want to be on my own because of the state I was in last night, drunk and hysterical. After Simon took Izzy back to his I cried to Clary trying to get everything out whilst I still could. She was so supportive and was furious with what I was forced into but she understood that I felt like I had to do it, not for me but for my family. Jace had text Clary late last night to tell her he was back at the institute with Alec. They had just walked around the streets he said in the text and just talked. Alec had told Jace about the marriage, Clary explained it to Jace over the phone in which he told Alec but Jace was still pissed with me and Alec was still harbouring the same feelings from last night.
“They’ll both understand soon enough”. Clary must have noticed me staring into space and she must have knew that I was worrying about it all. I nodded.
“What time is it?”.
She checked her phone, “9:30 AM”.
I jumped up out of the bed and raced to the door, “I was meant to be in the chapel half an hour ago!”.

I ran into the chapel to find my mother pacing and my father talking to the silent brother who would be initiating the wedding.
“I’m sorry, I was out late and I lost track of time this morning”.
My mother walked towards me, “Enough with your excuses!”. I felt the tears build up behind my eyes threatening to run down my cheeks but I fought them back. She dragged me to the front of the room where I was met by my father and the silent brother. As I stood not listening to a word they were saying the door swung open. I clenched my jaw in anticipation for my future partner to walk in but to my relief it was Clary, Simon and Izzy. I hadn’t asked them to come and I didn’t want them to but right now I knew I really needed them. A tear escaped as I smiled at them. They sat at the very back not wanting to disturb any family business. Since what felt like forever I finally felt relaxed knowing that whatever happened today I had people who truly loved me just a couple of footsteps away. Then the door opened again and suddenly my anxiety went from 0 to 100 real fast. In he walked, the person I presumed I was getting married off to. The closer he came the more I realised he wasn’t the worst looking, I mean he was kinda cute; dark hair, tall, skinny yet muscle-y…I was literally describing Alec. Did this mean I had a type? No one could compare to how I felt about Alec. He was the one I truly wanted to be with, but my feelings didn’t matter.

The vows had been said, the runes had been drawn and the rings had been given. The wedding was over. Everyone dispersed until there was just me at the front of the room. Still stood in the place I had been stood throughout. My freedom had been taken…my future had been written. As I watched my family leave I let my guard down and all tears rushed out. Clary, Simon and Izzy raced to me. I didn’t know what to do anymore or what would happen to me now. For the first time in my life I felt lost and had no idea what I was going to do.

After the wedding I had gone straight to my room. The others wanted me to hang out with them so I could take my mind off of things for a few hours but I just wanted to be alone. I jumped straight in the shower and just stood there for what felt like hours under the hot water. I eventually got out and started to get changed when I heard noises coming from outside the bathroom door. I walked out, expecting to see Izzy gathering clothes so I could come and escape to Simon’s place with them but it wasn’t. It was my hubby…William I think his name was. I payed no attention throughout the ceremony so I avoided saying his name during the vows.
“What are you doing?”. I asked as he was putting everything from my room into boxes.
He looked back at me with what I can only describe as disgust on his face. “You are to be moved into my room on the East wing, if we want to make this believable”. The minute he turned back around anger rushed through me. How dare he come in here. How dare he take my things and look at me like that. I walked over to him and started unpacking all of my stuff.
“I’m not moving anywhere, my things are staying in this room and so am I”. I didn’t look at him. It felt good, it felt like I was getting control back over my life. This feeling stopped when he spun me around and slapped me across the face. His force was so strong that it knocked me to the ground. He grabbed the remaining boxes and left the room. I just lay there. Shocked at what had just happened.

I eventually composed myself and headed towards William’s wing, as I didn’t want to find out what would happen if I stayed in my room, when I bumped into Clary. She gasped and touched the side of my face, “Oh my god what did you do?”. I know she didn’t mean to say it the way I took it and she had no idea what had happened but all I heard coming from her voice was her saying it was my fault. Maybe it was my fault.
“Oh I was just stupid and hit my head on my bedside table from my nap before”. I didn’t want people to know and start gossiping. The wedding had already made me the topic of conversation on every mission so this would just make things worse. She just laughed, “What are you like!”. Then she left. I was just stood in an empty corridor.

•5 DAYS PASSED•

I gently pulled on an oversized jumper, for the purpose of no one seeing my bruises, and my sweatpants. I hadn’t spoken to anyone for days. I hadn’t even left the room in days because I couldn’t bare to see people so they could congratulate me on my wonderful new marriage, but I knew I had to train.
As I got to the training room I saw that half of the room was already occupied by Jace. Just him and a punch bag. I hadn’t spoken to him since the night at the bar, as well as Alec.
He saw me walk in, rolled his eyes and carried on punching. I grabbed my throwing knives and my seraph blade and went over to the dummies to practise my fighting skills.
After an hour Jace came over and threw a duel stick towards my feet, “Lets go”. The way he said it was so cold. I picked up the stick and walked to the centre of the room where he was stood and without being ready he struck the back of my legs and I fell to the ground. I gasped loudly and Jace looked at me like I was being dramatic but the pain was more than it usually was.
“How could you do it? How could you hurt him like that?”.
I slowly got back to my feet and steadied myself, “I didn’t want any of this to happen! I had to do this, my parents-“. He cut me off.
“NO”, he yelled. “There was no excuse, everyone has a choice and you chose to break my brothers heart. That night you told him at the club I could feel his heartbreak, there’s just no excuse for that”.
“HEY”, this time I yelled which threw him off guard. “I love Alec…so much”, tears started to build up and a lump was lodged in my throat. “I wanted to be with him and the night he asked me out was one of the happiest moments of my life. But no one understands. No one understands the pressure I was under”. I couldn’t hold back anymore and the tears fell. Jace was stood looking down at the floor, silent. I began to walk away when he gabbed my wrist. I screamed and fell down because of the pain. Jace stood back in shock not knowing what he had done.
He knelt down beside me, “What is with you today? And why are you dressed like winter for training”. I caressed my wrist, he pulled my sleeve up and saw all the bruises. He pulled up my other sleeve where more were hidden.
“Where the hell did you get these from?!”. I quickly got out of his grip and pulled down my sleeves and stood up.
I turned my back to him, “T-they’re from m-my missions”. I stuttered, not knowing what excuse seemed best.
“No they’re not because I’m always on your missions and we haven’t had one since last week, these are new bruises”.
A new set of tears came to the surface and when I turned to face him and he noticed.
“Is he hurting you?”.
At first I didn’t say anything, I just looked at the floor refusing to make eye contact with him. But the second I looked into his eyes I started hysterically crying and that’s when he knew.
He immediately came to my side and gently pulled my into a hug. It felt good to get it off my chest. After what felt like an hour he loosened he grip. “I’m gonna kill him”. He was began to walk off but I ran in front of him pleading not to.
“Please don’t! Please Jace”.
“Give me one good reason not to”.
“Because if he knows I’ve told people then I’m dead Jace. He lashes out when the tiniest things happen, so god only knows what he’s going to do if you beat him!”.
He nodded, hands still in tight fists but he understood.

Originally posted by alec-baene

paint heaven and anger the gods

so the trailer for miss hokusai advertised one type of movie, and then the actual movie was …. something else entirely. but the trailer gave me ideas, so here they are:

there is girl –

no.

there is woman –

no.

there is a young woman, an old girl, and she has the eyes of youth but the weight upon her shoulders is that of age. or perhaps it is the other way around. perhaps she has the eyes of age, but upon her shoulder is the weightlessness of youth, of ignorance.

there she is, whatever she is.

her name is kana.

she is the daughter of a famous painter, known as juro. he is a man larger than life, and he paints wonderful things. he takes what is ugly, and makes it beautiful. he paints an unhandsome woman as a goddess, a sneering merchant as a king, a dirty city as a glowing capitol. he leaves all he touches brighter than it was found.

kana is not like her father.

she is a painter, but she is not famous. she has a mother she doesn’t speak to, and younger sister she visits as much as she can. she has pushed them both aside to follow her father, to sit with him in dirty shacks putting ink to paper as she does her best to make beautiful things. she throws off the expectations of her gender, of her station, of anything and everything in her pursuit to be a master painter.

technique is easy. she completes half of her father’s painting while he drinks, while he whores, while he seduces lords and ladies, while he paints empty things for empty people, while he leaves her alone in their dirty shacks. she can do the detail work, has a steady hand and a sharp eye, but when it comes to the whole picture – it is left lacking.

“her work lacks your beauty,” an old man says, talking to her old father while she kneels in the corner, ink staining her hands, the floor, ink just – staining.

“of course it does,” her father says, offhand. “how can she paint what she does not know?”

kana never expected lack of knowledge to be her downfall.

so that night when her father is gone, she does not stay in to work. instead kana paints her face, wears a kimono that’s too small on her, and goes to the worst part of the city, to where the alleyways and walls are stained red by the glow of the lanterns.

Keep reading

GoT S07E05 Thoughts

Fuck me. 

This might have been my least favourite episode to date and we had Gendry!!! Okay, in all fairness, it wasn’t a bad episode. There was just one particular conflict that I am not looking forward to seeing continue. 

And no, it’s not Jon3rys. I couldn’t give two shits about that right now. 

But let’s begin, shall we? 

For anyone who still believes Dany to be a good person, I honestly suggest going to an optometrist or retaking high school English because how much more obvious can this show get? I didn’t get to write down her full speech, but following this:

“I’m not here to murder…”

With this: 

“Bend the knee and join me or refuse and die”

You’re kind of a hypocrite and a really obvious one at that. War is horrible, I get it, and good people do atrocious things in war, but that’s why we, as modern somewhat enlightened (although questionable) human beings, have war trials. People may die in war, as that is inevitable, but there are certain acts that no decent human should perform even in the midst of war. 

I know I’m quoting Wikipedia here, but whatever: 

Examples of war crimes include intentionally killing civilians or prisoners, torture, destroying civilian property, taking hostages, perfidy, rape, using child soldiers, pillaging, declaring that no quarter will be given, and serious violations of the principles of distinction and proportionality, such as strategic bombing of civilian populations.

Do you think a man as concerned with portraying war as a clusterfuck of morally grey characters would place an entitled figure with weapons of mass destruction which she uses indiscriminately, who commits war crimes, as the main protagonist? Do you think that is a good conclusion? And this is simply going by this episode and not the mess Dany made in previous seasons. 

She had Randyll and Dickon Tarly as her prisoners. There was no need to execute them, or at least no need to execute both of them. If she wanted to make an example, she could do so with Randyll, but fine, let’s concede the fact it had to be done. She burned them. A slow, horrible, agonising death. She could have beheaded them, as was customary in Westeros, but no, she chose to burn them because you know why? She likes it. She’s done it before. Burning her enemies gives her great satisfaction of her power, but also it spreads fear into the hearts of everyone there because she knows it’s the only way to get them to submit. 

If she allowed them the third option of becoming a prisoner of war, she knows they’d choose that over her. She even says so to Tyrion, because guess what? The people of Westeros doesn’t like or want Dany as their queen. Cersei may be a Grade A Bitch, but she’s the bitch they know. She doesn’t have dragons to burn those who defy her at her will. Yes, she’s powerful and could still easily execute people at a moment’s notice, but they’ve seen her humiliated and frightfully human when she was made to walk naked in shame through the streets of King’s Landing. She is human and she can fall. To them, Dany wields her power like a god and not the kind they worship out of love but out of fear. What kind of ruler is that?

And let’s talk about execution in general here. We’ve seen a lot of it over the seasons, and what we always come back to as a code of honour and true morality in this grey world is this quote from Mr Honour himself, Ned Stark: 

“The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.”

Mr Honour Jr aka Jon Snow lives by this rule like a life motto. If he must sentence a man to die, he will swing the sword himself, and throughout the show, we’ve seen Jon do this and we’ve seen how this weighs upon him, though the culprits may be deserving. Yes, people die in war and Jon has killed on the battlefield for survival, but executing someone is a deliberate act. It’s taking the life of a human while they are powerless to stop you. Jon doesn’t take any pleasure in it. 

But Dany… She’s executed people left, right and center. Burning them in the most unnecessarily cruel way because she can and because it instills fear. Feeding them to her dragons which is even worse. That’s not at her hand. That’s cowardly and sadistic. 

You know who else rules through fear? 

“The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy.” 

Cersei bloody Lannister. 

Yeah, let that sink in. And let’s move on. 

Jon meeting Drogon. I hated this scene, although I see how it’s important in establishing Jon as a Targaryen. I didn’t like it mostly because I was still reeling Drogon burning the Tarly’s alive, and yet right after, they have Jon bonding with Drogon like some special moment. But do you think Jon would even touch that dragon if he knew the horrors Dany had made Drogon do? Or the fact that she just executed Jon’s best friend’s family in the worst way possible? Yeah, Sam hated his father, but he didn’t hate his brother. And no matter what animosity there was between them, Sam is a good person and he would still be devastated by this. Not to mention we weren’t given all those Dickon scenes where the man acted with honour, kindness and bravery, just to dismiss him as another faceless enemy of Dany’s. He was Sam’s brother and so much like Sam in a way. I think that’s what made his death in spite only knowing him for 2 episodes so heartbreaking. Also, why this meeting between Jon and Drogon made me angry and disgusted. 

Of course, it also establishes some Jon3rys bonding, although more so on Dany’s side. Let’s face it, the Dragon Queen wants familial Dragon D. Her heart eyes for Jon throughout this episode was at least 100x more convincing than previous episodes between them. Jon, on the other hand, has moments where he does seem to think Dany is alright, but I still don’t see the same level of affection on his end at all. As always, he has a one-track mind and that’s the war up North. 

And I’m sorry but Dany’s attraction towards Jon seems to predicate on her notion that he’s as heroic and powerful as her. I get that he is and that’s a wonderful reason to fall in love with him, but it’s still falling in love with the idea of him and not who he is, because who Jon is, isn’t that person. He doesn’t want to be a hero or to be powerful. I know Show Jon doesn’t go into this, but Book Jon wants a family, to settle in Winterfell and live peacefully and honourably like his pseudo father. But Dany will never know that about him because she doesn’t know him. Take her asking Jon about whether he got a knife to the heart, the wonder and awe in her eyes as she asks him. She wants him to be just like her (or her delusional perception of herself as some kind of prophesised princess that was promised). Jon is who she thinks she is and she’s attracted to that, which is basically some Game of Thrones version of Narcissus. When she realises he’s a Targaryen, she’ll feel threatened more than relieved she’s not alone, because if she thinks he’s her then she’ll think he wants the Iron Throne and he’s a threat to her ambitions. 

There’s a reason why after all that Gilly discovers the Rhaegar and Elia annulment (which btw is such bullshit but whatever). Jon has more right to the Iron Throne than she does. 

What’s funny about this episode that even Dany’s Second Biggest Fan struggles to support her. Yes, he still will, but that entire conversation he has with Varys just sounds a lot like he’s trying to convince himself that ‘yes, all rulers burn their prisoners like a sadistic pyroqueen, and yes, Dany is so not like her father’. And the fact that her own loyal subjects are questioning her? Yeah, tell me again how she’s a hero. 

Now onto the main reason why I hate this episode: StarkBowl. But oh ho, not Jon and Sansa StarkBowl but Sansa and Arya. 

I’ve always loved Arya. She was my favourite character for so many seasons, until I fell madly in love with Sansa, although Arya remains in my Number 2 spot. But this episode, I felt such a burning anger towards her. After all they’ve been through, everything Sansa’s endured, Arya would still hold her accountable for the beliefs Sansa held as a young child. She’s changed and grown so much on account of her experiences yet she will not lend her own sister the same courtesy. It pisses me off because what Arya is doing (judging and accusing Sansa of things she didn’t do or for who she was when she was a child) is exactly what Anti-Sansa’s have been doing for years. And her own short-sighted, ignorant inability to grasp that this woman before her is not the same Sansa she once knew has now led her to being manipulated and conned by Littlefinger. 

What I can only hope is that Sansa is smarter than Littlefinger. Bran wouldn’t give Arya the dagger if he foresaw Arya using it on Sansa. And I feel like it is so uncharacteristic of Arya, who has longed for so long to be reunited with her pack, to suddenly break down by childish prejudice at the first miscommunication. Sansa is far more cunning than anyone gives her credit for and I feel that this could all be a long orchestrated con on Littlefinger himself. Arya’s not that stupid. I refuse to believe she’s stupid enough to underestimate LF that way and let herself be manipulated so easily. I feel like perhaps that fight between Sansa and Arya was for LF’s benefit because it felt so contrived, so out of nowhere. I know this speculation is also heavily biased by my refusal to believe that the Starks would fight amongst themselves after all they went through, but I do believe that LF will die this season. It won’t be at Sansa’s hand but it will be because of Sansa’s machinations. 

Now, onto Gendry!!!!!

The happiest part about this hell episode because fuck, he’s so hot still. That cropped hair, those muscles, that smile… Yeah, swoon. He’s also hilariously bullheaded (very like a Baratheon) when he ignores Davos, hits those soldiers with his hammer and immediately tells Jon who he is. 

In fact, there was this instant spark of chemistry between Gendry and Jon in their first meeting. 

“You’re a lot leaner.”

“You’re a lot shorter.”

The gentle ribbing of two strangers is adorable, but it also reminds me of Ned and Robert’s first scene together:

“Your Grace.”

"You’ve got fat.”

Now the parallels of Jon as Ned is nothing we haven’t seen before. Gendry as Robert is newer, and Jon and Gendry together as Ned and Robert is so satisfying to watch. It also makes me, a trash shipper, so happy because you know if Jon is being paralleled as Ned in this episode, you know who is being paralleled as Cat? 

Yes, that’s right. Strong, confident Sansa, who was called only Lady Stark in the Great Hall meeting. 

I know I’m crazy but I’m still not worried about Jonsa. That scene in the Great Hall just kept making me think of Sansa as Penelope. She’s there holding onto Winterfell for Jon’s return as he gallivants off on his many missions and overcomes his many trials. She’s there, always loyal and true to him, and maintains his kingdom for him

Boatbang may happen (likely), but Odysseus also slept with Calypso, before ultimately returning to his lady love. I believe the same will happen for Jonsa. 

Also, who thinks Cersei’s not actually pregnant? I think she’s beginning to question Jaime’s loyalty and needs to firmly hold him in place. And I think when he finds out she’s not after all he’s done for, all the sinful things he did, it might make him plunge that sword into her heart prophecy-style. Or not a sword. I don’t know. 

But that’s it for me. My head hurts. My heart hurts. And I maintain that I hate this episode because fuck StarkBowl. And fuck disrespecting Sansa like that

felren13  asked:

okay, i was reading your cursed child snippets, and dreamt in that world last night. so the trio were at green grass manor and draco had to leave for some reason but didn't want the kids to think they were unsupervised, so he left an illusion subroutine that would go off when it was either too quiet or too loud, an image of him would walk casually into the room where suspicious activity was taking place, look around disapprovingly, sigh deeply and leave. thank you for these snippets!!!

That feels entirely plausible tbh. Like I could just see my cc au Malfoy sitting at his desk going “okay how do I keep them alive while they’re here. okay, so most of the shit we got into was because of sheer adult negligence. So I’ll just never leave. This is fine.”

But then there will be times he absolutely has to leave. Like the time Potter himself calls him up because they found a dark artefact in a London basement and Malfoy’s the only one with the extensive academic knowledge on the subject able to identify it (well that and his father, but Luscious Malfoy would rather die than help the Ministry so no one asks him) and Astoria *tells* him just to go, it’ll be *fine*. She’s sitting upright today, in a comfortable chair close to the fire, wand out as she works on something beautiful with silk thread. And it’s not that he doesn’t *trust* her–or his son’s reverence for his mother. It’s just that…well…it’d make him *feel* better if she’d let him seal the house and shut off the floo…except she won’t and he won’t distress her by asking, so he does the next best thing he can think of. Because if he can’t be here, then he can at least cast a sentinel that Looks like him to be seen around the place.

That this is technically blood magic and technically possibly not entirely legal is neither here nor there.

Until the day something does happen and it ends in a duel with Potter standing back to back with him, the smoking debris of the drawing room drifting down around him. When Potter spies the sentinel–guarding the children like it’s supposed to–Potter just turns to him, and with profound and heartfelt understanding says, “Honestly, same.”

And if you’ll permit me to say, the Dial Tone Au and Cursed Child Au are totally the same universe. And given Dudley’s presence in Harry’s life, and Malfoy’s enforced presence through his son, that absolutely 100% means Dudley and Malfoy meet more than once. Like at Christmas when the Malfoys find themselves invited to the Burrow for Boxing Day and Malfoy wants to decline, he really wants to decline like he has done for the last few years. But Potter insists (actually his wife does) and even Astoria seems to want to go (…it’s lonely here, he knows, both their families having abandoned them for being muggle supporters…) and Scorpius all but *begs* so Malfoy finds himself standing stiffly behind Astoria’s chair (and he can’t help but be thankful to the Weasley woman for the subtle ways she manages Astoria, the way her needs are met without alienating pity) by the fire in this cramped ramshackle house his son is so in love with, drink in hand as he listens to the two women compare the latest fashion in Witch Weekly as chaos reigns around them and…

“He’s a bit of a stuck up git, isn’t he?” Dudley murmurs, low enough not to be heard by anyone but Harry as the two cousins sit at the table peeling potatoes. Harry could have done this in seconds with his wand but Dudley always feels alienated when there’s nothing he can do to help with dinner, so they sit and peel and talk about nothing in particular.

Harry looks up, absently pushing his glasses back up his nose to regard Malfoy. He looks stiff and out of place, dressed all in black as usual, eyes focused on nothing as he stands over Astoria–almost like a sentinel on guard…until she reaches up with a pale thin hand and squeezes his, and he looks down clasping hers in his, listening to what she has to say with such utter devotion before turning his attention to Molly Weasley with a smile so full of warmth Harry barely recognizes him…

“Oh I dunno,” Harry says, throwing a sliced potato into the pot. “I think he’s trying.”

Tumblr Needs To Chill: Let People Like Hamilton!

I’m so tired of seeing people being so rude to the Hamilton fandom. Especially when the Hamilton fandom are just minding their own business. For example, I’ll be scrolling and see a post sharing interesting or funny facts about the founding fathers. And there is always a guarantee that someone will hijack that post or send anon messages like, “The founding fathers were slave owners, so you’re a terrible human being for liking Hamilton or American History.” 

And you know what? I’ve had it. I have several responses to these accusations.

  • “The founding fathers were slave owners and you keep ignoring that.”

Let’s get the big one out of the way. Most of the founding fathers were slave owners. No one is denying or defending that. However, most of the fandom (and people who study American History) generally think ‘”That’s really disappointing to know… I wish things were different. America would have been a better place if these important figures were abolitionists.” But after that, they continue on to study more about the good and bad in history. That horrific part of history will always be there. And that will never change. BUT. BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT! Just because we don’t talk about it all the live long day does not mean we don’t acknowledge it. WE. KNOW.

However, there are so many amazing things the founding fathers did that can not be ignored. Like it or not, all of these people played an important part in creating a whole country basically from scratch. We don’t ignore the fact that they owned slaves, but we also don’t ignore the great things they’ve done to create a new nation either. Both are huge factors in our history. And we acknowledge both. 

We don’t see them as gods with no flaws. We see the founding fathers as they were. Real people, with real complex personalities and issues. They were right about a lot of things. And horribly wrong about others. They both did great and terrible things. Does the good justify the bad? Of course not! Everyone knows that! But just because people focus on the positive does not mean we diminish or ignore the negative! WE. KNOW. Okay, next!

“The musical glorifies slave owners!!! The show is racist and you’re racist if you like it!”

Did you watch the same musical as I did? Because in the show, Hamilton hated Jefferson because Jefferson owned slaves. They don’t ignore the issue or diminish it by pretending it never happened. Rather, they show that it was a thing and not every one supported it. However, they show the complex situations regarding slavery at the time. For example, it was mentioned in the beginning that Hamilton started career as a trading charter… which included ships with slaves from time to time. That’s messed up. What’s worse is that Hamilton was a poor 14 year old kid with no family and no way to support himself at the time. If he wasn’t given the job, he would have starved and died in the Caribbean. It would have been a horrifying job for an adult, but he was still a child. A child who seen the horrors of slavery with his own eyes. That’s terrible! But seeing those acts started his abolitionist worldview from an early age. They present in the opening song the complex childhood he had and you see how that influenced Hamilton when he fights against Jefferson later in life. And from the “Cabinet Battle 1″ song you can see that he is against slavery. Just because it’s not the main focus of the show, that doesn’t mean the issue is completely ignored. And if you want a more bold example, let’s talk about John Laurens.

*ahem*

JOHN LAURENS IN REAL LIFE AND IN THE SHOW WAS A WHITE GUY THAT PUBLICLY STOOD AGAINST SLAVERY. That’s one of the major focuses on his character! He has an entire verse in the second song the show about wanting to free slaves and mentions this goal multiple times within the show! And when he *spoilers* dies in the show, it’s treated as a huge tragedy because his dream of freeing the black troops died with him. It’s treated as a horrible tragedy.  And it was that event that caused Hamilton to kick start his political career because his best friend failed to accomplish that goal.  And after this event, Hamilton is way more vocal about the issue in the second act. He was NOT a slave owner and acted as a voice against the horrible common practice of his time. If the show did not have Laurens as a strong voice against slavery or if they had written him out of the show, then okay. I can kind of see the anger. But Laurens acts as a modern voice to those times. So stop treating every character as a racist when the show CLEARLY PLACES HISTORICAL CHARACTERS WHO WERE AGAINST SLAVERY IN THE FOREFRONT OF THE SHOW! 

And George Washington? If you watch any clip of the finale, when Eliza mentions how she fought against slavery, look at George. He hangs his head low and backs away ashamed. Because Washington could have done more. That’s. The. Point. The show never ignores the fact that slavery was an issue of their time. And they strongly say in the end that these people could have done more for those people! If the show really glorified slave owners they would have left out the complex aspects of Hamilton’s childhood from the show, completely taken out all mentions of slavery from the get go (or written Laurens out of the story), or deny that the founding fathers owned slaves within the show itself. But they acknowledge it and mention multiple times that slavery is a bad thing and the show presents itself in a sorrowful “we wish things were different” way.

Speaking of the show… apparently Hamilton the Musical as a whole is considered racist to some people. How? The show is the only one I can think of that stood for including many different kinds of ethnicities in one production. Seriously. I’ve never seen a show that is so inclusive of all actors from all ethnicities for the entire cast! Hamilton gave all kinds of actors a chance to be included. The show celebrates the creation of America by including a viewpoint of what America looks like today. How is that racist?

Is it because black people are playing slave owners? If that’s the case, then the point went completely over your head, my friend! Anyone could have played Jefferson. Anyone. So why isn’t Jefferson played by a white guy? Because, that is too common in modern media. There are soooo many movies about slavery that has the owner as a white guy, because yes, that’s what happened. Now, while this is historically accurate, there has been so many slavery stories in media that upon repeated viewings, the meaning of the message risks losing impact because today’s audience is so used to seeing the white guy owning the black guy. 

HOWEVER, when we see the black guy owning someone of the same ethnicity, it visually solidifies the anti-slavery message in a new and impactful way. The whole point is when you see a black man playing Jefferson, you’re supposed to feel a disconnect. Jefferson owned slaves. But we see him as a black man being a slave owner. We are supposed to feel uncomfortable because we see that they are the same. The same. As in, THE SAME HUMAN RACE. By showing how ridiculous it is for a black man to own someone from his own ethnicity, we are given a new strong visualization of why slavery shouldn’t have happened in a way that has never been done before in recent year.
In other words, IT’S VISUAL SYMBOLISM THAT SLAVERY IS WRONG BECAUSE WE ARE ALL HUMAN BEINGS! 

Also, how are people who like Hamilton racist? The Hamilton fandom has been so accepting of the diversity in the cast, it’s is mind blowing. I’ve seen people get angry because a black woman played Eponine in Les Mis. Or that a latino man portrayed The Phantom in an Andrew Lloyd Webber concert. But Hamilton? With every change to the cast, the fandom have been so supportive of diversity, regardless of who plays who. The show accepts anyone and everyone from every ethnicity and I fail to think of one other show that uses so much diversity. Hamilton has been accepted and celebrated by the majority of viewers because of this. And the fandom does wonders in showing broadway that diversity is something that should not be ignored, but celebrated.

“You’re advocating slavery by liking this show.”

That doesn’t make any sense. The actors don’t own slaves. Lin-Manuel Miranda doesn’t own slaves. There is no part in the show where someone tells someone that people should be slave owners. Most people who like Hamilton and American History do not fantasize about owning other people. Slavery is in the long distant past for most of the modern world! THANK GOD.

Again, most people who like American History or Hamilton are well aware of the good and the bad these people inhibited. They don’t deny the awful things these real people did, but they don’t ignore the good acts either. The founding fathers were real people. We don’t advocate everything they did. And we don’t treat them like perfect beings. The end.

“This actor supports an organization I don’t support, so they are evil and any show that uses them are evil too!”

I see this mindset all over Tumblr all the time. However, I’m starting to see it circulate within the same circles who keep harassing the Hamilton fandom.  So forgive me for the tangent, but this needs to be addressed as well.

Here’s a hypothetical situation. You have a friend. A close friend. One that has been with you through thick and thin over many years. And you just find out that they support an organization that you don’t. Do you cut off that friendship because of that one fact? Most people wouldn’t, because that friendship is too important to them to risk losing.

This should apply to the things you like. When you like a show, movie, an actor, a writer, or anything- there is always going to be something about that thing that people or even yourself will not like. It is literally impossible to have someone who will have the exact same mindset as you. But everyone has a personal reason why they support or advocate something. It is not up to you to change that. Now, people’s opinions can change, and you can help shape other people… but most of the time, they will continue to live their own lives beyond your control. You can never really know someone inside and out. Don’t drop people just because you have a different viewpoint.

This applies to actors too. People are saying Lin is a horrible person because he donated to Autism Speaks. So was it a huge campaign? Did he ever say that Autism Speaks is the cure for Autism? Did he try to rally a bunch of people to donate to this organization? Actually no. He made one tweet talking about how he donated for a friend’s cause. And people fail to mention that this tweet was made over four years ago. That’s right. These people are using one tweet from OVER FOUR YEARS AGO as justification to harass an entire fandom. If you actually read the tweet, the post was more about supporting his friend than the organization itself. A lot of people donate to organizations for a friend’s need without really reading into the organization itself. You do realize that people can be unaware about these corporations, right? For crying out loud, my mom just learned the truth about PETA. And people are still acting like he’s a spokesman for Autism Speaks. Which obviously he’s not. He made one post from four years ago. Four years is a long time and people tend to change opinions in that span of time. Has he made another post about Autism Speaks? No. It’s just that one post, so it was most likely a one and done deal to support his friend.  That’s hardly something to hold an eternal grudge over. Especially since it happened OVER FOUR YEARS AGO and he hasn’t made another post about it since!

The other reason why people hate Lin is because he used the N word once and “didn’t apologize.” Yet what people don’t reveal is he was quoting David Diggs for the Hamiltome audiobook. He was quoting David Diggs, the black actor who played Jefferson. It was a direct quote and Lin read it word for word as directed for the audio book. That’s it. It’s not like he uses the N word as a derogatory term in daily life. It was a one and done deal for a direct quote in an audiobook. There’s a difference between saying something out of your own accord and quoting someone, especially for an audiobook. Yes the quote was censored in the book, but when you have an audio book, it’s hard to edit a quote without an audio or visual context. In situations like this, the reader has to go by what the director wants. It’s not their choice what’s written or what they should say instead. They just read what’s given to them. That’s the job!  If anything, y’all should have been mad that the director didn’t add a *beep* noise in the editing room. 

What annoys me about the whole thing is that it takes one person to post something with exaggerated or misinformed content. And with Tumblr’s already “walking on eggshells” and “one strike, you’re out” mentality, it is ridiculously easy to get people to blindly hate, when most of those people won’t even check to see if that information is true! Or if it’s in the right context. People in general need to do their own research before spreading exaggerated or falsified information. It literally took me two minutes to look all this up. Do your own research before jumping to conclusions.

Getting back on track. My main point is this. With very very few exceptions, people (living or dead) are not gods or devils and shouldn’t be treated as such. They are humans with their own complicated problems that result in their own individual opinions and thought processes. We are not ignorant of the negative just because we enjoy the positive. We know people are going to make mistakes.They have made mistakes! They are going to do things you will not like. This is a fact that will never change no matter what. However, you can still like the positive things they do or did! It is not a crime to enjoy the positives of someone. That doesn’t mean you’re ignoring the negative. Appreciating a famous person (past or present) does NOT mean you support everything they do. So please just leave people alone!

In conclusion, American History enthusiasts and Hamilton the Musical fans
DO NOT advocate everything that our founding fathers did. 

SO LET PEOPLE ENJOY RAPPING MUSICALS!

OKAY? 

OKAY.

Lance and the Mirror of Erised

Lance stares back at the mirror suspiciously, wondering why in the hell Pidge would ever want to keep that. It’s not like she would need it or anything, and Lance hold no grudges against it, it’s just…

Creepy.

Suspicious.

Creepy because of the old fashioned golden frame with an inscription that said, erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Whatever alien language that was in.

Suspicious because when Pidge had found it during a mission, she claimed to have seen her brother and father in the reflection, smiling at her, hoping it was some kind of clue, and thus she brings it on board to the castle.

Lance called the bull immediately, wanting to get rid of that…mirror thing…as soon as possible. He could think of all the bad things that could happen, everything he’s seen in movies come flashing through his mind…like what if one of the paladins got literally sucked in and can’t get themselves out? Or what if one of them couldn’t take their eyes off the reflection because they saw some kind of traumatizing thing that could affect their brains?

Whatever the possibilities, it’s just unlikely to find something this enchanting with their luck. But the others took Pidge’s word over his ridiculous thoughts, thinking what possible damage could a mirror do? It’s only a big piece of glass surrounded by a fancy old frame, glass for which people could check their reflection, that’s all a mirror is after all.

It was a quiet night, up until the point when Lance woke up from a nightmare, and all he could do was pace around the castle in order to clear his mind from all the horrid images that would flash in his head from the bad dream. He didn’t feel like going back to sleep any time soon, and getting some food from the kitchen to help him fall asleep wasn’t exactly something he want to do at two in the morning.

Or…space.

He thought about going to the training deck to help tire him out, and keep his mind busy at the same time, seeing that he wasn’t going back to bed in his room any time now.

-

Once he was in the training deck, he was just about to demand for a level, expecting the training bot to come out, until he was interrupted by a quick flash of light in his peripheral vision that caught his attention. He walks closer to the light, keeping his footsteps light as if he was approaching a small creature. He keeps his eyes open, thinking that if he loses his eye contact, the light would disappear in a flash.

It comes to his disappointment when the light of the object that caught his direct attention was just the lights of the training deck reflecting off that stupid mirror Pidge brought home.

However, he does look good in it.

He runs his eyes back over the frames of the mirror.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Still gibberish, if you ask him.

Lance’s eyes drifts into the actual mirror, and checks himself out, happy to see that there wasn’t a line of worry on his face, or a break out any where in his sight. His hair was a disheveled mess, sticking up in every direction due to the twists and turns he had done in bed because of the nightmares. He didn’t bother to fix it up, knowing that he’ll just fall asleep, and it’ll still be an untidy mess when he wakes up. He does a couple of poses just for the fun of it, chuckling softly at his reflection as he was making faces for his own enjoyment.

Okay, maybe the mirror isn’t as evil or creepy as Lance thought it would be, but it still doesn’t mean that finding this during a mission, along Pidge saying she saw her brother, it doesn’t make it any more suspicious than it already is. Useful, maybe, but still suspicious.

He feels a yawn release itself from his chest and escape his lips, and he decides to leave the deck before he falls asleep on the spot. Lance was giving one more finger gun at himself towards the mirror, until he sees it.

He catches his breath, and his heart felt like it almost dropped to the pit of his stomach. Scratch that, he feels his stomach begin to churn, aching with a sense of longing and sickness. There was no way that what he was seeing was actually real, but he refuses to look away and search behind him to see if it was more than an illusion. As much as it pains him to say, he feels his tongue tie itself in a knot, wanting to say that one word he hasn’t said out loud in so long without seeing her face.

“Mamá?”

There she stood, smiling, dressed in her usual floral clothing. In the mirror, she looked just as Lance had remembered, her friendly smile, her short height, her kind blue eyes. The image of his mamá squeezed his cheeks with one hand, leaving a small kiss. Lance’s eyes widens, and he didn’t even feel a tear roll down his face until he reaches a hand up to wipe it away.

And as he wipes it away, he looks around him, the training deck still empty. Looking back into the mirror, the reflection of his mamá stood, whispering words in his ear that Lance couldn’t hear. She gives him a big hug, which made Lance open his arms up to hug her back, only to find himself reaching out for nothing but air.

He snaps from his daze, his arms slowly going back down to his sides, but he hasn’t break eye contact with the mirror just yet.

His mamá steps aside, but Lance didn’t want her to go just yet. He wanted to remember her face, have it etched in his mind, so he wouldn’t ever forget. Luckily, she only stepped aside for another person to come in the mirror.

Another person steps into view. A taller person. With her long brown hair and similar blue eyes, her golden tan skin like the sun had given her a kiss. His oldest sister. She brings Lance in an embrace, holding him close, almost picking him up off the ground. But Lance looks up, knowing that she wasn’t really there, but still felt disappointed when he comes to see no one hugging him. He returns to indulge himself in the reflections and images that the mirror was somehow giving. Then another comes in, this one was shorter, his brown hair bouncing as he was running up to Lance’s reflection, wrapping his little arms around his leg. Came another one, joining in on the group hug. Then another, and another, until Lance sees all of his siblings, his four sisters and three brothers, drowning him in a big, suffocatingly loving, group hug.

He longs to feel all of these hugs himself, and not just look at it happening in a mirror. His heart starts to warm up by seeing every single face he comes to see in the reflection, laughing quietly to himself.

Lance brings his arms closer to him, embracing himself with his own arms to feel the hugs. It wasnt as comforting as the numerous of arms that wrapped around him in the reflection, but it’ll do.

Soon, they all stepped aside. He didn’t want them to leave yet, but he could still see them, waving to him, smiling, jumping around. Some were carried by others, the older siblings were giving the little ones piggy back rides.

Then Lance sees him.

He feels his heart elevate up, lodging itself in his throat, skipping a beat.

“Keith!”

He jumps, catching his breath as he turns around, expecting to see Keith’s confused expression on his face.

No one.

All he heard were the sounds of his own breathing and his heart pounding in rythm. All he sees is the emptiness of the training deck.

Lance’s breathing gradually slows down, looking back at the mirror to see if his eyes were playing tricks on him. The reflection of Keith was still standing there, smiling directly at Lance.

Why would he be there?

If Pidge saw her brother and father, and I saw my family, then wouldn’t this mirror just be showing images of…family? Or…Am I wrong? What’s going on?

He watches intensively, all his attention back on the reflection if him and Keith. Although Lance feels himself gaping at the mirror, his reflection shows him smiling softly at Keith, almost a smirk.

Then he sees it.

The reflection of Lance looks down, interlacing his fingers with Keith’s. He holds it up to his lips, leaving a soft kiss on Keith’s hand. The reflection of Keith smirks, cupping Lance’s face with his other hand, and smashes against his lips with his own. The two images moves their mouths together in synch, hands moving in places Lance wished he could do, the two pulling apart only to gasp for a breath of air, and continue to kiss like the world had stopped spinning and time had stopped running.

Lance steps back, startled by the quickened pace of his pulse, his heart racing faster just by looking at the image. Never would he thought of being jealous of himself, but at this point, he has now come to a conclusion that this mirror was evil.

“Lance?”

The voice was sudden, like it came out of nowhere, yanking Lance out of his daze. He jumps back, turning around to meet his eyes with the one and only Keith.

His mullet was all mussed up, causing him to run his fingers through it to keep it from falling down on his eyes. The bags underneath shows that he had just woken up, rubbing them with his other hand as he made an arch in his back to stretch.

“What are you doing?”

Lance hums in response, trying to block Keith’s vision away from the mirror.

“Nothing.” He says quickly, wincing at the pitch in his voice.

Keith raises an eyebrow, still unconvinced by the tone of Lance’s voice.

“Is that the mirror Pidge found?”

Lance turns to look over his shoulder, and sure enough, the reflection still showed the two of them canoodling, smiling, flirting, and hugging.

“I-It’s nothing,” Lance stutters again, internally slapping himself in the back of his mind with an invisible palm.

“C'mon, I just wanna see what I look like,” Keith chuckles, unaware of the small hoarse in his voice that really made Lance’s insides twist about.

Keith moves him aside with no effort, finding himself looking at the mirror with a small smile.

Lance panicks, attempting to explain what’s happening, and hopes Keith doesn’t get freaked out on what he sees in the mirror. “Look, it’s weird, I get it, but I saw those images–”

“Lance–”

“–and it wasn’t like I was in control of what I saw–

“Lance–”

“–and I don’t even know what was happening–”

Lance!

He stops rambling, directing his attention to a calm looking Keith, smiling. His eyes weren’t mad, and his expression hasn’t changed. Or maybe it was just because he was more tired than Lance thought he would be.

“What are you talking about?”

Lance blinks a couple times at him, wondering if Keith didn’t see what he saw. He hesitates before he asks, catching his bottom lip between his teeth, “The reflection? What do you see?”

“Me?” Keith answers, raising another curious eyebrow at Lance, “Isn’t that what mirrors are for?”

Lance blinks to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating from sleep deprivation, but looking at Keith–the real Keith–the tightness of his chest loosens. He lets out a deep breath, his eyes drifts back to the reflection of him and Keith holding hands, embracing each other like a couple would.

Maybe it was just him that could really see it, or maybe it was just the lack of sleep giving him all these illusions.

Lance lets out another sigh, breaking his eye contact with the mirror, and smiles at Keith, “Maybe I should go take a rest now.”

Keith gives him a small smirk, brushing the bangs of his hair back, “Heh, I recommend it.”

Lance sticks his tongue out, and leads himself out the entrance of the training deck. He turns back, expecting Keith to be following right behind him. Except he wasn’t, and instead, his eyes were focused on his reflection of the mirror.

“Aren’t you coming?”

Keith rips his attention away from the mirror, and his eyes were back to Lance with a bigger smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. He sighs, running his hand through his unruly hair again, “I’m coming.”

With one last glance at the mirror, Keith drags his legs towards Lance, brushing their shoulders against each other sleepily as the two of them walked back to their rooms, which were conveniently placed right next to each other.

Keith mumbles a ‘good night’ to Lance, right before his door shuts close right in front of him. Lance catches his face heat up, a blush creeping on his cheeks. With his hand on the door, he smiles at the door of Keith’s room, muttering a ‘good night, Mullet’ as if he could hear through walls. Lance slips inside his own room, with the sound of the door sliding closed behind him.

Little did he know that what Keith actually saw in the mysterious mirror wasn’t exactly what he told him.

He did see himself, that part was true. However, it was part of the truth. What Keith saw–what he really saw–was him and the tan and lanky figure of an obnoxiously loud and hilarious person named Lance. In the reflection, he saw himself–yes–he was smiling, and he was happy. The reflection of Lance went up behind Keith, and took him in his arms by the waist. Lance’s grip on Keith’s waist looked tight, but he seemed to sink himself further into the embrace.

Keith’s reflection put his hands over Lance’s, his smile widening at the touch. Even if it was just an image, he could still feel his heart pounding out of his chest like it was about to burst, but he kept his breathing steady. The reflection of Lance placed a soft kiss on his cheek, resting his chin on Keith’s shoulder.

And what the real Keith saw that made him not want to look away, was the minute his eyes drifted back down at their hands, and saw that there were silver rings on both him and Lance’s ring fingers.

His smile widened, and he heard Lance’s voice call him back to reality, but that didn’t make his smile go away.

“Aren’t you coming?” Lance had asked in that sleepy tone in his voice.

Maybe one day… Keith thought as he took a quick glance back at the reflection and seeing the image of him and Lance disappear as he tugs himself out of his trance, dragging his legs towards the real Lance. Maybe one day that’ll be my reality…

But hey, Lance didn’t need to know all that extra information, doesn’t he?

Besides, he’s got part of the truth already.

The key to love, my father told me, was to never love someone more than they love you. So when, after dating for five months, Christopher Moore was the first to say “I Love You”, I thought I had hit the “Love Jackpot”. I say this because, prior to him saying it at that very moment, I had never given thought to the possibility that I could love him in return. Standing in front of my apartment building, nervous and excited, facing him and his smile, I questioned whether love was the word to describe what I was feeling. High school love, after all, is quite trivial with it’s ins and outs. Nevertheless after weighing the theoretical pros and cons of love, I decided that I was in love, at least in some respects. He was handsome, smart, sweet, and I enjoyed his company. This is what I believed love boiled down to; four factors. Honesty, clearly, was something I overlooked. About a year and 7 months into our blissful love affair, after graduation had passed and we had spent the summer taking all the cliché couple pictures, Chris decided that he “just couldn’t go on lying to me anymore. “Jenine” he told me “this guilt is eating me alive!”. I imagine there wasn’t much of him left, as it had been “eating away at him” for 6 months. This is when I learned that there is no “key” to love; no guide, no tips, no 101 course, because love is lived and learned; never taught. Try as you may, to forgo the pain of love, you’ll find joy in knowing that it’s survive-able and moreover, sometimes the good outweighs the bad. No, Chris wasn’t the love of my life, but he gave life to my ability to love.

“Never” my father said “let love override your faculty of reason.” Easier said, than done. My next love was Jeremy Bishop. Before you ask, of course there were others between Chris and Jeremy. But this is a story about love; not “almost loves”,“semi loves”, and “could’ve beens”. Jeremy’s love was the worst kind of love. The kind that doesn’t have a reason to exist but somehow it does and you’re glad. Its sole purpose is to debilitate your mind, forcing you to follow only your emotions. While Jeremy was dreamy, I learned that the man of your dreams can sometimes be the root of your nightmares.

I met Jeremy my junior year at _________ University. It was a Sunday and I had been studying in the library for an anthropology midterm and decided that I would take a break. Putting my highlighter down & flexing my hand I stood up & headed towards the bathroom. As I walked through the stacks, passing my hand across the rows of books I’d never read, my friend Denise spotted me and waved me over. Walking swiftly I made my way to the table she was stationed it & gathered that she had been studying all day as all. Splayed papers, open textbooks, two highlighters, & her laptop with several window open screamed “cram session” to me. After having sat & talked for some time about school & it’s “scammagry”, I noticed that someone had taken a seat at the end of the table. You know those typical movies where two people look up at the same time & smile coyly at one another? Well that’s what happened with us…….minus the smiling. When Jeremy & I caught eyes it was more of an inquisitive stare down. I relented because who really stares at a stranger for lengths at a time? Apparently Jeremy does because every time I looked up he was looking at me or perhaps through me. Whatever the case was I asked Denise if she could “Excuse me for one second?” as I got up from my seat and sauntered over to Jeremy, running my fingernails along the wooden table that both separated and joined us.

He was brown skinned but it was a rich brown that I often found myself lost in. He had brown hair that was cut low to avoid maintenance & also to spite his mother who so much loved it longer. His eyes were almost black they were so dark, yet you never asked someone to hit the lights when staring into them. He had a slight dimple on the right side of face that only presented itself in the presence of his mother, its creator.

“I know you or something?” I said, to which he looked up & responded “No you don’t. But since you’re already here, I’m Jeremy. Nice to meet you….” he said moving his hand in that circular waiting motion “this is usually the part where you tell me your name”. He was sarcastic & forthcoming and I liked it. “This is usually the part when I’d say Jenine. My name is Jenine. Though I’m not sure it’s nice to meet you.” “Well Jenine, do you have HIST 256 on Mondays & Thursdays? I think that’s where I’ve seen you before.” “Well Jeremy, had I known you were a stalker I would’ve stayed at the other end of the table” “A stalker Jenine? Really? I think you’re mistaking my keen eye for details.” “I stand corrected then. I just had no idea I was noticeable to your "keen eye”, I said, making air quotes. He leaned in & said, “Maybe Jenine, just maybe there’s a lot of things you don’t know. I’d be happy to fill you in though. If you were ever free.” “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems to me, Jeremy, that you’re asking me out.” “It seems that way, because it is that way. But enough with this, would you be interested in going out?” “I’ll contemplate it.”

A week later Jeremy picked me up in his beat up silver 2010 Toyota Corolla. Got out & offered to close the door for me not because he was a gentleman but because I literally couldn’t close it myself. He told me he wanted to show me his favorite place in all of Brooklyn. We drove for about 15 mins and parked in DUMBO; my favorite place. As we walked to the pier he barraged me with every menial question from favorite color to top five movies. I stopped his questioning because I realized I knew nothing about him. “What about you?” I said. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” “I’m a Taurus. Now back to you.” “Your sign. You gave me the third degree and in return you tell me your astrological sign??” “I’m really not that interesting. I kind of just go with the flow nothing special really.” “I could say the same about myself but you don’t see me spewing monotonous facts about myself” “That’s just it though. You’re very interesting. I see you twice a week & you never look the same to me. Always a different hairstyle, new lipstick, different outfit. You keep me guessing & well…I like that.” “Different outfit…Did you expect me to have the same clothes on like a cartoon character?”

Jeremy took my clothes off the way he took down my walls; slowly & intently. I never felt exposed or vulnerable. It was easy with him & who doesn’t like easy? The first time we had sex he kissed every scar and stretch mark on my body while he whispered beautiful and for the first time I believed it. This is when I knew I loved him; this is when I knew he loved me. We fell into a routine & inevitably, that’s how we fell apart. We saw each other four-five times a week in between work, school & our respective friends. I’d meet him after work or he’d meet me after class, we’d get some food or I’d cook, we’d talk, then go back to his dorm room or my house & somewhere in between there we’d fuck once or twice & that would be that. Talk, Eat, Fuck, Repeat. This, I should inform you, was the foundation for our dismantling. Jeremy grew tired of our monotony, I suppose, & because of that he started talking to a female customer who had “just so happened” to frequent his job. In talking they “just so happened” to find they had “so much in common” & somehow Jeremy’s dick “just so happened” to be in her mouth when I walked into his dorm room to get the spare phone charger I left there just in case. “Oh Mahh Gahhhh” is what Celeste said with his dick slighty tucked to the left side of her mouth because it wouldn’t have been polite to pull it out all together; though I’m sure there was no God she could ever call her own. Startled yet surprisingly indifferent I found my charger in the first drawer of his night stand now decoratively arrayed with ripped condom wrappers and I closed the door behind me.

Walking out of the apartment I didn’t feel anything but when I reached the stairs it hit me and when Jeremy came running out of his room, pulling his boxers up I looked up at him from the top stair I was sitting on & hit him right in the groin. “Shit! Ahh! Damn, J! Come on!” he winced . “Come on?? Excuse me?!? You’re such a fucking dickhead. Like what the fuck?” “I know. I know. I’m sorry babe. You gotta believe me! I swear it’ll never happen again.” & that’s what I wanted to believe after all; that this was just a bump along our road; that we could get through this because we could get through anything. So when Jeremy crouched down in front of me, put his hand under my chin, looked me right in the eye and told me he was “so sorry”, that he “really loved me”, that he was “mad stupid for doing that” I believed him & gave us another chance because I wasn’t ready to admit failure.

Celeste Soto was the average full figured broad who just “couldn’t help” falling for other women’s boyfriends, husbands, fiancés, you name it. Walking back into his room, I found her putting her left shoe on with one hand on his desk for balance. “You gotta believe mama” she said “I didn’t know he even had a girl. You feel me? I wouldn’t have done anything with him. Thas crazy disrespectful. My bad.” as she adjusted her bra strap and pulled her hair into a messy bun. Turning slighty towards Jeremy, I looked at him as if to say “really?!? THIS was the best you could do??” and he lowered his head, and stared at this one spot on the carpet that he could never get out. Not only had Jeremy cheated but he chose the lowest of women to do it with. “First of all, I’m not one of your friends so I don’t know why you’re calling me "mama” & no I don’t “feel” you nor do I intend to. Get your shit and get out!“ When she was gone I searched the apartment for remnants of her presence, prior to that days visit. An earring, a hair tie, maybe a lip balm. I found nothing or maybe I wasn’t really looking.

For eight months straight Jeremy was on his BEST behavior. He’d let me know where he was at all times as to ensure that he wasn’t out cheating; send pictures as proof on some occasions. I have to admit, though I was secure in his whereabouts, I was also sure that this was not how healthy relationships works. Nevertheless I looked forward to each notification because afterall "once a cheater……"you know the rest. One night I went over to his place to cook dinner, partially to ensure he wouldn’t be feeding Celeste or any other girl his penis but also because this is what I missed most about us. I had become so preoccupied with deciding whether or not I could trust him that I wasn’t concerned with trying to make us seem normal. After dinner we were in his bed tearing at each other’s clothes & after switching positions five times he looked down at me & said "I can’t do this”. Looking back at him I said “it’s cool I wasn’t feeling it either honestly”. “Not this” he said falling to my side, facing the ceiling “I mean like this….us”. Somehow though I knew that was what he had meant. This ball of something akin to both fear & anger welled up in my throat & grew until finally all I could say was “oh”. One tear fell from my eye & couldn’t allow myself to shed another. “This whole time” he said getting up from the bed “I wasn’t with you because I wanted to be. I was with you because I didn’t want to let you down.” He was pacing back & front at the foot of the bed, lifting his hands to his head then retracting them, looking over at me occasionally for assurance of my understanding. So he continued "I couldn’t let your last image of me be somebody who betrayed you. I had to prove you wrong & that’s selfish. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be in a relationship I’m not fully committed to. It isn’t fair to either of us J & you can hate me but I’d rather you hate me for being honest.” “Is this a joke? Please tell me you’re kidding right now” I said, half laughing half crying. “Let me get this straight” I said, sitting upright in his bed, pulling my shirt over my head “You cheated…..You lied…..YOU fucked up….You begged for another chance!…and my stupid ass gave you one. I’m just so lost right now.” This is when I realized I never should have sat on those steps & cried. I should’ve ran out of that building like it was on fire because guys like him will always burn you.

Some nights I could still hear his footsteps pacing the floor & I’d wonder when in the hell it would be over. When I’d stop crying; when I’d realize I was better off without him. But there’s this moment & I know it sounds cliche but you just wake up & you feel different you feel like you can begin again. One morning I woke up and knew Jeremy would never have a hold on me the way he did before, but more importantly I didn’t want him to.

The thing about baggage is that you never realize how much of it you carry around. In fact you assume that more often than not you don’t carry any at all because you’re “over it” or you’ve “moved on”. You’ll find yourself compromising because you just want someone to call at night; that wants only you. “Trust me.” my mother said “There will be others and don’t think that you have to look for them or that you have to settle.” My mother had a way with words. I’m not sure if that’s necessarily a good thing but the fact remains that when she said those words to me I wished she had kept her opinion to herself. I would never settle…..or at least I didn’t think I would.

I knew I didn’t love Benjamin the first time he came inside me & I wished I had never come to his apartment, let alone into his room splayed with dirty laundry that he was “gonna get to”. More importantly I knew I couldn’t love Benjamin, not the way I wanted to at least, when he told me I’m just like my mother. This sounds stupid I know, but let me explain.

After a week of working overtime, my best friend Selene dragged me out of my apartment for a night of bar hopping. Upon walking into our third stop, Benjamin grabbed my hand & told me I was pretty. That was it. There was no drawn out conversation, no playing hard to get, it was very low stakes. I gave him my number & before I got to the next bar he had called & asked when he could see me again. “Tomorrow” I said.

The next evening Benjamin showed up at my apartment with no plan other than to show up. We decided to see a movie.

The movie we saw doesn’t matter. Neither does the fact that we went to the movies. What matters is that after we left the movies, Benjamin grabbed both my hands & kissed me. When he stopped & I looked up at him he said “You taste like stale popcorn”. I thought “what the fuck?” & then he reminded me that we shared a popcorn. Our entirely relationship was like this; constant reminders of things I should have been aware of.

Ben was different from Jeremy because he never lied to me. That doesn’t necessarily mean that’s a good thing though. His honesty was one that I had to grow accustomed to. We had been dating for about two months, when I called him asking if he wanted to get dinner later & he simply replied “no”. No explanation, no rain check, no apology; he just hung up. Later he’d text me & say that we should get breakfast instead the next day because he liked being the first person I talked to in the morning. He never hid anything from me. Girls would text him, telling him how much they “missed him” how much “fun” they used to have & he’d show me his phone while laughing & ask what I thought he should say in his reply. It was almost inconceivable, how much he included me in his decisions when it came to other women. Co-workers would invite him out to dinner & drinks after work, over to their apartments, concerts & he would ask me, not if he could go (because he was going to do what he wanted regardless) or if I wanted to come with, but how I’d feel if he went it with them. We’d be waiting for our heart rates to drop back to normal after sex; our skin still dewy and tingling and he’d say “the last time was better” or “you faked it, but that’s cool” as he got up and ambled to the bathroom & I’d wonder if he had to be so honest with me all the time.

I woke up one day to him sitting at my kitchen table in just some sweatpants, signing a card. Next to him there was a huge bouquet of sunflowers. I walked over to him, fixing my bed hair into a bed bun & when I sat down he was startled. “I didn’t think you’d be up this early” he said & I looked over at the clock on microwave. “It’s after 11……does that even count as early?” I said. He looked up at me, then at the clock, then back at me & shrugged “I guess not”. I asked “Who’s the card for?” & as he sealed it, he handed to me & said “Happy Anniversary Sweetness” with no inflection. My face dropped to the floor, along with the card. “An anniversary?” I thought “have we really been dating a year? Maybe it’s like a six month anniversary? But that’s not even an anniversary!” After a few mental “Fuck!!”’s, I pulled myself together, awkwardly smiled as I picked up the card & opened it. It had been a year since I moved into my own place. In the card he wrote about how happy he was for me; that he knew how big of a deal it was for me to live on my own & he wanted me to know that it was just as important to him. I cried out of relief. He thought I was overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, primarily because as I closed the card, hugged him, wiped my tears and sniffled into his neck, I whispered “Thank you. This means a lot.”. One year of independence; something I should have been aware of.

The first time he told me he loved me, I opened my mouth to respond & he placed his index finger on my parted lips. “Stop” he said. “Not everything I say deserves or should be met with a response Jenine. I love you. That’s it.” I of course flew into defense. “So I can’t say it back? I can’t love you in return? What kind of bullshit is that Ben? You can’t just say something like that & expect me not to say anything back.” “I never said you can’t say anything back. But think about it baby, I said I love you & your first instinct was to respond. You didn’t even really take the moment in. That’s what I’m saying. I don’t want you to love me back because I love you. I want you to love me because you actually love me.” I felt little, like a child, like I had been put in my place, handled, dealt with, but I wouldn’t let him know. “You’re such an asshole sometimes” I said “but that Benjamin, for your information, is why I love you. Because you’re only an asshole sometimes”.

There are two important things I remember from when I broke up with Ben:

1. It was raining.
2. He told me I should’ve ended us a long time ago.

I came back to the apartment from the gym. As I shook my umbrella walking through the door, Ben sauntered by in his usual attire, house sweats and no shirt, saying “You must love mopping.” in a condescending tone. I happily returned the tone saying “Definitely. I just love it! Can’t get enough.” as I rolled my eyes and the umbrella up, fastening it shut. I walked over to the kitchen & checked the fridge. All that was left was this chicken Parmesan “thing” I had attempted to make three days earlier & it looked like a big pile of mush at that point. I chucked it & decided that take out sounded good. I had a taste for some pad thai so the choice was easy. Picking up my phone & dialing the number I thought it might be a good idea to ask Ben what he wanted but I figured he’d eat whatever I ordered him. So I made the call, ordered Chicken Pad Thai and another peanut sauce dish with shrimp, and hung up. As soon as my phone had ended the call, Benjamin started an argument. “Why would you order food without asking me what I wanted?” he asked me walking out of the bedroom and I replied “I ordered food for us both. No need to say thank you”. He walked towards the window to look out but really it was all dramatics because our window looks directly at the alley behind our building that holds nothing but two dumpsters and a few forgotten cats. “Why would I say thank you to you for doing something I never asked you to do?” he said with his back turned to me “Sometimes” he scoffed, almost laughing, as he looked at the rain collect in the window sill. “Sometimes I don’t get you. Like after all this time you still do shit that irritates me and I wonder why the fuck I still want to lay next to you at night or wake up with you in the morning.” I was sitting on the sofa, absentmindedly playing with the tag on this pillow I bought two years before when he & I had just started dating. He told me the pattern on it reminded him of us; that the lines never intersected. They just changed direction. “Nobody is holding you here Ben. You can leave anytime you’d like.” I said as I picked up the remote & turned on the television.

Thirty-five minutes later I was annoyed that the food hadn’t arrived but also because Ben never left the window. He just stayed there staring at the rain while it sheeted down the window screen and when thunder roared he’d just sigh. “What could be taking this food so long? The place isn’t even that far.” I complained. “It’s the rain Jenine. Everything slows when it rains. People, cars, buses, trains, bikes, they all slow.” He paused “You also might want to factor in the idea that a bunch of people order take out on a night like this.” I answered back “I knew that!……why are you always telling me things as if I don’t know them? As if I’m not aware? It’s just annoying. You’re annoying.” Ben walked away from the window & towards the kitchen counter. He planted his two hands palm down on the counter, hoisted himself up to sit on it, looked at me & said “Maybe it’s not me that annoys you Jenine. Maybe you can’t admit that I’m ever fucking right! I can’t ever make a point without you saying “I knew that!”. If you knew it Jenine…..then why would you say half the shit you say or do half the shit you do.“ I paused the lifetime movie I had been somehow become invested in and pressed a metaphorical "play” on the scene that was unfolding in our living room. “I don’t know Ben. Maybe you’re right” I replied as I sat up, crossed my legs and interlaced my fingers over my knee. “Maybe I can’t handle the fact that you make valid points. Or perhaps it’s the fact that you can’t ever let me be wrong without making me look like a complete ass. You’re always so philosophical. "Oh thee "all knowing Ben!” Ohh he who knows more than anyone!“ I mocked. "It’s insulting. For someone who is just so wise you damn sure don’t know how to do your own fucking laundry, or wash a dish, or aim your penis directly into the bowl when you pee. Stop with the bullshit. We both have our faults.” My phone rang. The food was downstairs.

I threw on my worn out flip flops and shuffled down the 3 flights of stairs. Walking back into the apartment with food in hand, I saw that Ben had returned to the window. He walked over to the kitchen counter where I was standing, taking the food out of the brown paper bag & said “You said your ordered me food.” “I just ordered two things off the menu. I figured we’d just share.” I reasoned. “Right I get that but I don’t like peanuts. You know that. Don’t you? I’ve told you this. I’m sure I have as we’ve been together give or take I don’t know 2 & half years!” “Dammit! I whispered to myself. "I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking & I was hungry & I’m…..sorry. I’m just sorry.” “It’s fine” he said. “I should’ve just picked something up on the way home. It isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this. You’re like your mother in that way.” “Like my mother? All of this over some take out? Listen, good luck with dinner.” I said as I grabbed a plastic fork at the bottom of the bag & headed back to the sofa. “Yeah, like your mother.” he continued, following me. “You’re always complaining that she never listens to you; that you have to remind her of things you’ve already told her. Yet, here you are never listening to me. It’s not even about the apology. It’s that I just don’t think you’re really sorry at all.” he retorted. “Fair enough.” I said, putting my food down on the coffee table. “You wanna know what I’m really sorry about Ben? Huh? Fine. I’m sorry I moved in with you. I’m sorry I’ve been in this relationship for this long because we’ll never be good enough for one another. You know that right? We’re always going to be like this Ben.” I said, pointing at the pace between with both hands. “It’s never going to be enough that we love each other. There’s gotta be more to love than whatever the fuck we’re doing. I just don’t think this is healthy. I don’t think we’re growing here. Do you?”. “Now that J…that’s the most honest thing you’ve said to me. You’re always saying what you think I want to hear and that’s my problem with you. You never say what the hell you want because you think too much about it. We are growing, it’s just apart from one another.” He sighed, finally saying “Look, I’m tired.” as he walked exhaustedly back towards the bedroom, on an empty stomach & closed the door behind him. I couldn’t figure out if he meant he was tired of us, of the arguing, of never really getting back to how we were or if he was honestly tired.

I slept on the sofa & I use the term “slept” very lightly. What I really did was stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out if this was really it for Ben & I. If that was our last real conversation; if that even counted as a conversation. I planned out what I’d say in the morning after we’d both had time to think & reflect. I’d tell him I was sorry about going off & that it’s not that I don’t want to try to make it work but that I don’t even think trying is worth an actual try. I thought about it & felt like the whole relationship was a perpetual “try”. We’d just kept getting up, dusting each other off, & holding hands until we’d fall again thinking it didn’t matter because we’d fallen together. How many times do you have to fall before you realize that perhaps it isn’t the ground that’s tripping you up? That it might just be you. Do you have to scrape your knees a few times or fall flat on your face? How do you know when you’ve had enough?

I laid there falling in & out of sleep. I had this weird dream that I was baking a cake. I kept checking on it. Ben was there but he didn’t really say much. Finally I took it out of the oven & it was burnt around the edges. He shuffled over to the stovetop & looked at the cake with a somber face. “I told you it was done 10 minutes ago. You should’ve taken it out.” he said & I just stared at him blankly because he was right. I turned the pan over and the cake popped out. I let it cool, frosted it and cut a piece. Jeremy hunched over the counter top and watched me put the cake on a plate with confusion. “You’re just going to eat a burnt cake?” he questioned me. I had just taken my first bite and was going in for a second when I looked up at him and said “It still tastes good so what’s the difference?”. “The difference, Jenine, is that you know the whole cake doesn’t taste good. Only certain parts do. Why don’t you just throw it out and make another one?” he said walking over to the cake, lifting the plate up at different points and angles to get a good look at it. It was as though he was wondering how the frosting did anything but make the cake look even sadder. I licked the last bit of frosting off my fork and said “Because, burnt or not burnt, I still love cake.”

I woke up to a sliver of sunlight shining through the living room across the floor & stopping right at the front door. I sat up & checked the time. It was 7:06. I decided I’d go to the bedroom and get some real rest. I stood up & stumbled towards the bedroom. As soon as I reached the door, Ben was coming out of the room. He was dressed & had 2 bags with him not including the backpack he’d never leave the house without. All of the things I had planned on saying were forgotten. I could barely see straight, let alone gather the words I wanted to say. He looked at me then said “Sorry. Can I just get by?”. “Sure!” I blurted out as I moved to the left, almost jumping. He walked towards the front door & I asked “Umm can at least ask where you’re going?”. He stopped moving and turned, telling me “I thought about what you said J. About us not being enough for one another. I guess I just always thought it would work itself out. But I see what you mean. I don’t know the exact moment when you came to that conclusion, or maybe you decided it, but you should’ve ended us then instead of now. So I’m leaving. I guess I’ll pick up the rest of my stuff over the next couple of weeks.”. That’s it. He was gone. Whatever he had left, the “stuff” he mentioned, was never picked up. They were minuscule items really; a toothbrush, some body wash, a value pack of razors. Things that made you think of him, even though they were all replaceable. It didn’t take long for me to realize that much like the burnt cake, I still loved Ben.

To be continued or whatever…….