Im Thinking Thoughts - Tumblr Posts
i'm losing my mind over the parallels between the trotters and the blanchfords (+amadin). all three children growing up together in the same place, with a father but without a mother. they all viciously care about one another (see nell with george when she's shot, sofia with her brother, amadin with sofia). but at the same time they are wildly different people. actually, the entire season can be read as a juxtaposition of the trotters and the blanchefords.
whereas nell voluntarily leaves her family in her late teens, amadin joins the family against his will as a child. the love-hate sofia feels for thomas is shown by her disapproval of his general behaviour (even disgust at times), but the fact that she later saves his life proves her love. nell loves george from the beginning on, despite not even knowing her. and while nell acquires power by chance without asking for it, sofia craves power at any cost and goes against her own morals to come by it.
the family dynamics of the blanchefords are characterised by power imbalances: amadin being a servant to his "siblings"/the people he grew up with. thomas being a bully to everyone in his life. the misogyny that sofia experiences. a cold, distant father with high (and specific) expectations of his children.
the trotters are shown as a warm family with loving dynamics. nell is not ostracised for wearing male clothing, and when she returns home her father almost immediately accepts her back. george is shown to be able to move around freely and play what she likes. both sam and roxy have to work hard, but that almost puts them in equal positions? neither of them own the tavern, it belongs to the blanchfords. and roxy being harassed by thomas is a different kind of misogyny than what sofia experiences.
and what is the underlying reason for their differences? what is established right on with the blanchfords living in a manor and the trotters running a tavern?
class.
the reason lord blancheford assures a strict upbringing of his children is because his son has to one day continue the legacy. there is a lot at stake because the family already has a lot of socioeconomic power. thomas is the way he is because he is an extremely privileged boy, who was taught (directly or indirectly) that his life is worth more than others. and the reason why sofia has this thirst for power is not just because she is a woman living under patriarchy but also because she is a rich woman, which makes land ownership something that is in reach but kept from her solely because she is a woman. and amadin is literally bought into the family (there's another aspect there concerning colonialism, but i'm not the right person to dissect that).
the two families are like two sides of the same coin. in contrast to the trotters, the blancheford family is extremely privileged but ultimately cold and twisted in their dynamics. and it all comes down to class difference.
Holy mother of God I'm feral
in your head, on your mind // Jordan Li x Reader, Part 2
the brainrot only increases day by day. i want to be them. i want to fuck them. i cannot decide which one of those options i want to do more. anyways, here's part 2. thanks for all the love and support on part 1!
word count: 1874
previous part // next part
You ended up texting with Jordan for most of the night, smiling and giggling to yourself as your roommates slept across the room, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. It was hard though - with every text you found yourself more and more enthralled with Jordan. Everything about them, their sense of humor, their obvious intelligence, the way that they blended flirting with casual conversation, just made you like them more. And the fact that you couldn’t read their thoughts over text only added to the experience. Made it authentic - what were they thinking about right now? You couldn’t know. It was intoxicating.
Around three in the morning, when you were finally ready to pass out, you made plans to hit the gym together tomorrow.
Which is why you loiter in front of the gym now, checking and re-checking your phone to see if they’ve texted you again. It’s 1:57, three minutes before you said you would meet up, though you’ve been waiting for at least five minutes more. Anxious. Excited. Thinking about them already.
…be perfectly fine, you’ve got this. It’s not even like a real date or anything, you’re just hitting the gym. Casually. Casual. Okay. Oh, fuck okay. Wow. You look really good in workout gear.
You pick up on their thoughts before you see them, just as anxious and excited as your own. Turning, you smile as they come into view, today in their masculine form, dressed in a loose tank top and baggy sweatpants. “Hi Jordan.”
“Hi.” They say, a smile stretching across their lips. “You look nice.”
“You said.” You say. “Or, thought, rather.”
Right. You’re in my head now, shit. Different than text. “Still thought I should say it out loud.” They say with a shrug.
“I appreciate it.” You say, and you do. It isn’t often that people take to repeating what they’re thinking in speech once they learn you can hear their thoughts.
For a moment, the air is silent between the two of you and you simply look at each other. They really are pretty - you could fall into those chocolate eyes and never be able to find your way out. And their hair, you so desperately want to run your fingers through it, it looks so silky smooth.
You smile as Jordan’s thoughts - much the same as your own - run through your head. You’re so fucking pretty its unreal. I can’t believe you said yes to hanging out. I can’t believe we spent all night texting each other - when was the last time I did that? Like highschool probably. I need to pump the breaks dude fuck. Sorry. I’m sorry.
“You don’t have to apologize-” You start.
“I know, it’s just- I’m not used to it yet.” They say, pulling open the door to the gym for you.
You walk inside, hit by the smell of sweat and rubber and the metallic tang of blood all at once. The sounds of working out - machinery clanging, grunting, screams of pain, echo around the place mixing together with the generic pop music playing over the gym speakers. You hover near the entrance, waiting for Jordan to take the lead.
“I, um, took the liberty of reserving a sparring room for us.” They say, voice raised a little over the din. “We don’t have to though - I mean, that’s just usually what I do to work out.” No pressure if you don’t want to touch me. I didn’t mean it like that - you already know.
“Sparring’s fine, yeah.” You say. “Thanks for getting a room.”
“‘Course.” Jordan says, starting towards the back of the gym, where the sparring rooms are located. You follow in their wake, passing hordes of your sweaty peers, all focused on bettering themselves. It is easy to tune out the telepathic chatter when you are inclined to focus on Jordan anyway.
It isn’t a far walk to the sparring rooms, and Jordan pulls open the door to room five, holding it open for you to walk in. Like the rest of the sparring rooms, it’s completely padded - ceiling and all - to minimize the amount of damage students would do to each other. A circle is drawn out on the center of the floor, a boundary to use for a more traditional match. You drop your gym bag near the door, and turn to Jordan.
“So what rules do you usually go by?” You ask.
“Hand to hand only, no powers if you can help it but I guess since you can’t really turn yours off don’t worry about that.” They say. “Uh, we can use the circle if you want but usually me and whoever I’m sparring with just go until someone’s pinned.”
“That sounds fine to me.” You say. “And since I can’t not use my powers, I think you should be able to use yours too. Just to be fair.”
Jordan purses their lips. I would throw you through these walls with my energy blasts. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” You say. And then, planting your voice in their head, “I trust you to be gentle with me.”
Jordan’s cheeks tint red. “Okay.” They clear their throat, and set their own gym bag down. “Stretch first?”
You stretch together, working through most of the usual positions and then some that you hadn’t heard of before at Jordan’s prompting. Now, feeling nice and limber, you stand in the center of the room, across from Jordan, your fists raised in front of you, ready to strike. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Jordan raises their own fists, adjusting their stance. For a moment, everything is still.
You know they’re going to move before they do it.
Jordan lunges forward, but you’re already darting back, finely tuned into their thoughts, able to counter every move they make before they’ve even finished deciding to do it. When you’d first arrived at GodU, people had underestimated you, thinking your power couldn’t be practically applied in combat situations. How wrong they were.
Yeah I figured as much. Jordan, unsurprised, changes forms, trying again to land a hit now in their more lithe female body. Still, you’re able to stay one step ahead, dodging the moment they begin to swing, darting back as soon as they lift their foot from the mat to kick at you. You take the opportunity to land a sharp hit on their side, right between two of their ribs, and then another in the center of their stomach.
Damn, okay Y/N, packing a punch. Jordan groans, but doesn’t stop, instead doing their best to return the hits. You dart away again - keeping yourself one step ahead and an arm’s length away.
It goes like that for a while - you, carefully in tune with Jordan’s every move, and Jordan, growing more and more frustrated as they fail time and time again to land a punch. It’s fun, listening to their thoughts grow more and more frantic, strategizing and re-strategizing ways to knock you off your guard, and you find yourself biting back a smile, not wanting to infuriate them further. You’re winning without a doubt, until-
Is this what it’s going to be like when we fuck?
Jordan’s thought throws you off your rhythm, and you falter, their fist breezing past your face as you barely move away in time. They grin, and you hear their voice in your head; what? I thought you were used to that sort of thing?
It’s true, you had told them that it happened more often than you liked to admit - and it did, but never in a situation like this. In a fight, most people were focused on well… the fight. Not…
God, your shoulders look so good in that shirt. You should get more shirts like that. I want to sink my teeth into your muscles.
Jordan throws another punch, and you only narrowly dodge it again, doing your best to ignore the way they’re thinking about you. It’s hard though, when you’re so focused on their thoughts anyway to try and keep ahead of their punches. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks.
It all comes to a head when Jordan actually lands a hit on you because you were distracted by the image of you and them, pressed against the lockers of the locker room, making out with furious intensity. There was a quality to the thought that made you think it wasn’t the first time Jordan had conjured this image - but it was the sharp change in focus that actually made you falter.
Jordan lands one hit, and then their hand wraps around your arm. Before you can wiggle free, they shift into their male form, grip tightening. I’m going to throw you to the floor.
If it had been anyone else, the thought would have sparked fear. But instead, excitement swirls in your stomach.
As gently as someone can throw someone else to the ground, Jordan flips you. You land on your back against the cushioned floor, the impact radiating through your whole body. Before you can scramble back to your feet, Jordan - still masculine and therefore immovable - pins you down, almost laying on top of you.
“I win.” They say, lips only inches from yours. I could kiss you right now. Would you let me? You don’t have to.
You press your lips together, fighting off a smile as you pretend to struggle in their grip. “Fine you win. What kind of prize do you want?”
“Don’t tempt me.” They say, eyes darkening as their pupils widen ever so slightly. Fuck. Do you mean that?
You smile, and wind your thoughts into theirs. You don’t get to fuck me - not yet anyway - but I’ll kiss you if you still want it.
The second the thought registers, Jordan is pressing their lips to yours, roughly, hungrily, like they’ve been waiting. You know they’ve been waiting - you can feel it in their thoughts, in the way that they run a hand down your side like if they stop touching you you’ll disappear. As soon as you feel them let their guard down, you flip the both of you over, giving yourself a turn to hover over them.
Their eyes widen as you break the kiss to start leaving little kisses along their jaw, working towards their neck. Oh fuck. You can’t- you said we can’t fuck right now, you cant start kissing me there- fuck. I can’t fight this boner-
They shift under you, reverting back into their female form. You take it in stride, still continuing your path to the sweet spot beneath their ear. You suck hard on the delicate skin once you land, and they groan deep in their throat, pushing their chest up against yours as their eyes roll into their head. You pull back to enjoy their reaction, and when they open their eyes again, you smile.
“I wouldn’t have been offended by a boner, you didn’t have to switch to hide it.” You say.
Jordan smiles. “Habit, sorry.” They pause. “Um.” I need to go home and jerk off. Like right now. Sorry. “We should do this again, sometime.”
You roll off of them, smiling as you plop down on the matted floor. “For sure.”
I am. Flabbergasted. Never been more turned on in my life. Wow I'm wordless 😳🤭
having thots about the unstoppable invincible force aspect of masc!jordan….. trying to close your legs when it gets to much but their hands are like iron clamps on your thighs……………. holding both your wrists in a vice like grip as they coax you through your third orgasm of the night….. 😗🫢
had to sit on this one for a bit because it quite actually made me gaze into space with a thousand yard stare. t- the thought of jordan using their powers of invincibility in their masc!form to keep you in place.... wow. okay. alright.
its literally like irons bars wrapped around your thighs, though they feel as warm and soft as their skin always is, unable to move even a centimeter. just forced to keep your legs spread and open as their tongue works between your legs, bullying orgasm after orgasm from your spent little cunt. just the thought that you literally have to take it, can't move away, cant push them away, and of course you could end it, you have a safeword, but that's not the point, you like it. you like feeling trapped and forced still as jordan pulls what they want from your body, even when it feels like you can't give anymore.
just crying and sobbing and gripping the sheets as you try, try, to push at their shoulders, just a little, whine that its too much, its too much j, you cant take it anymore they've made you cum so much it hurts. but they dont move and they dont stop. just push your thighs even wider apart, so the folds of your pussy split and your clit is raw and exposed and puffy and they just look up at you with those dark eyes that say 'im not done.' as they seal their lips around it and suck.
i cant stop watching this someone help me HIS THIGHS
pre-season training