“You were directly involved in bringing down the Empire. You and Artoo. So I don’t know why you’re calling me Master. Why you call anyone Master. Seems like people should call you that.”
“Why…I…I don’t know, sir. Programming, I suppose. All droids must do as they are programmed.”
OF COURSE Poe Dameron cares about the civil rights of droids and respects them as individuals. He’s not going to perpetuate a weird slavery hangover where even heroes of the Galactic Civil War are programmed to scrape and bow to humans and call them ‘master’.
au where yoongi and jimin are spending a night out in vegas and jimin insists on starting the night with some drinks, so they end up buzzed enough that yoongi’s in the mood to gamble. and when he starts out with jimin cheering him on by his side, he’s good, and somehow keeps winning to the point where every time he does he hands his winnings over to jimin and tells him to “buy yourself something pretty” because it makes him giggle all cutely each time. and jimin does; he disappears for a while and when he returns his shirt is gone and he’s wearing a faux fur coat with some chains and obnoxious sunglasses and a couple more rings and it’d almost be ridiculous if yoongi didn’t find it so hot. he convinces yoongi to quit gambling whilst they’re already so ahead and they spend the rest of the night cashing out on drinks and novelty gifts for each other until they facetime namjoon, who offhandedly comments “i’m surprised the two of you haven’t gone to get married” just as he’s hanging up. and yoongi and jimin aren’t dating but yoongi, drunk out of his mind, already knows he wants jimin to be his husband anyway.
and so they wake up the next morning hungover, significantly richer than the night before, and married.
Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all! I hope everyone had a wonderful day, and I hope this fic makes it a little better!
This was written for @percyyoulittleshit who gave me the prompt:
“So let me get this straight. You want to hire me to be your date to a Valentine’s Party?” I hope it lives up to your standards, Mari!
“So let me get this straight. You want to hire me to be your date to a Valentine’s Day party?”
Annabeth sighed. Honestly, it sounded terrible when you said it that way. Well, she guessed that it would probably sound horrible any way you said it.
“Yes,” she snapped, tapping her foot against the sidewalk. “You just have to come to the party with me. We only have to stay for a few hours.”
Percy was silent as he considered. He was loading his band equipment into the back of his Jeep. Annabeth had seen him outside when she got home from track practice, which is when she decided to cross the street to his house and solicit his help.
Context: Leyla, a Muslim British-Indian woman, is coming out to her mother, telling her “I’m gay.” Her mother reacts with horror and disgust, telling her “You’re up to your neck in sin” and going so far as to ask “Who did this to you?”
But it’s this scene that sums up the reality of LGBTQ+ desi youth. Our parents may very well love us and want the best for us, but the absolute bottom line is: our parents do not want us to be happy. They want us to be appropriate, to be respectful, to have children and well-earning careers, to fit into the mold of heteronormativity and gender roles, to be religious and pious. But no, they do not want us to be happy. Happiness doesn’t fit into it.
To them, happiness is indistinguishable as a separate characteristic because according to them, doing all of these things should already be making us happy.
The ideal created for desi children is that they shouldn’t strive to do what makes them happy, but what makes them “good.” Unfortunately, under this context, good is defined as anything that isn’t seen as immoral or out of the norm.
A woman who is not straight is rejecting her role as a wife, and to a lesser extent, her role as a mother. She is rejecting the notion of subservience to men, of obedience and inferiority. Under our current system that is hugely patriarchal, a woman who does not submit is a threat.
Now, I’m not saying desi parents are bad parents or hate their children because it’s pretty clear this happens in nearly every other culture in the world. But I am saying that desi parents do not make their children’s happiness a priority, they make their children’s success a priority: successful careers and marriages and children = successful lives. So if you ask a desi parent “do you want your kid to be happy?” they’ll immediately say “yes, of course.” But if you add on “do you want your kid to be gay if that makes them happy?” the answer will be a lot less positive.
This movie tackled Leyla’s sexuality and coming out to her parents absolutely head-on with no coyness about it. She goes straight up to her mother and admits that she’s a lesbian. But her mother’s reaction is really the thing that most “coming out” stories try to gloss over, or sugarcoat, or just in general avoid. Her mother admits with frank and brutal honesty the truth that all LGBTQ+ desi kids know: our parents would rather see us miserable and straight than queer and happy.