So Descendants 2 introduced Ursula’s daughter as the main antagonist, and we got reboots of Kiss the Girl and Poor Unfortunate Souls.
Well, if the new Descendants 3 logo is any indicator of who the antagonist is, then Hades is going to be the antagonist of D3.
Soooooo are we gonna see some Hercules songs?
My personal fav is I Won’t Say I’m in Love, but who would sing it?
Well, we know the Villain Kids are inherently resistent about love, but as we’ve seen, Mal and her squad have already accepted love, so it would have to be some other VK, right?
Sooooooooooooooooo
Who else do we know who has paid the price “for rotten judgement” and could potentially have a love interest in D3 but is also stubborn af and won’t say she’s in love even if people are literally singing it to her???
Imagine them all having to go through a certain test and Uma getting a visit from the muses telling her that it’s good that she’s head strong but she’s gotta admit to her feelings instead of running…… just a suggestion
They were trapped. Worst of all, they were separated. That’s what they get for seeking help from the gods.
Uma personally knew going to them would be a bad idea. If Poseidon cared about his kids, he wouldn’t have let her grow up on the Isle. She assumed the gods were self-serving and lazy. She even told Mal her idea was stupid, and what did that do? Nothing! Instead, it only made Mal even more sure that the only way to defeat Hades was to go to the gods.
Uma should’ve stayed behind. Maybe then she wouldn’t be stuck in a dark room awaiting what the gods called ‘A Test of Character.’ In response to their plea for help, the gods divided their party, and that was the last thing Uma remembered before awaking in a pitch black room.
Suddenly, the room changed. The black had turned into a beautiful Greek garden, filled with statues and dimly lit by the clear, starry night sky. It was so serene. Uma almost wanted to sit down and relax, but she knew better. This was supposed to be a test, so she had to be ready for a fight.
She reached for her sword, but it wasn’t there. She looked down and found that her whole pirate attire was gone, and in it’s place was a teal toga-style dress. Uma pulled it up a little to find leather sandals where her heeled boots should have been. She raised her hands to her head and found that, not only was her hat gone, but her braids were undone and her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. She whined in frustration and stomped her feet like a child. Do you know how long it takes to put your hair into a ton a little braids? A long ass time!
Uma shook her head, clearing the momentarily irrelevant distraction from her mind. Then, she started walking around, inspecting the garden while remaining alert. The statues were all freakishly life-like. She passed five statues of pleasant looking women when she suddenly heard excited whispers.
“Ladies, we have our mission.”
“Oh my goodness! It’s Poseidon’s granddaughter!”
“Alright, time to do our thing.”
Uma whipped around to find the five statues smiling wide at her. It was–in a word–creepy.
“What the–“ Uma started, but the tall statue with high hair cut her off.
“We are the Muses!” She announced with a broad gesture to her companions.
“Goddesses of the Arts and Proclaimers of Heroes,” said another Muse with a scroll.
“Pass your test, and you’re free to go to your friends,” said a third muse with a frowning mask in her hand. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll proclaim you a hero one day.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Uma scoffed doubtfully. “I’m no hero.”
“You–you’re not?” The tall Muses stammered, confusion taking over her concrete features.
“Nope,” Uma replied, popping the P and crossing her arms over her chest.
“But you came to the gods for help,” the tall Muse recalled. “Doesn’t that mean you’re trying to save Auradon?”
“It might seem that way,” Uma told them. “But I’m not here for Auradon.“
“Well then, no offense sweetie,” said a short, plump muse. “But why are you here?”
“That’s a great question,” Uma said with a fake smile, sarcasm dripping off her voice. “I too would also like to know the answer to that. I would also like to know where exactly here is.”
“Wow, we got a sassy one,” the plump muse stated.
Uma rolled her eyes. “Look, if you Muses ain’t gonna help me, then I’ll find my own way out of here.” She turned to leave, but her foot kicked something metal. The object clanged into view, and Uma looked down at it with wide eyes. It was a shining, shiver hook.
She snatched it from the ground and whirled around to the Muses. “Where’d you get this?” She demanded.
“Oh that?” The tall muse shrugged, “Dionysus dropped it off. It must’ve belonged to the boy he’s testing.”
“Dionysus?!” Uma exclaimed incredulously, her blood boiling, “As in the God of Madness?!”
“And wine!” The plump muse shouted in excitement.
Uma ignored her a forced out a deep breath through her nose. Knowing her wild, off-kilter friend was with the God of Madness terrified her. She didn’t want to find Harry trapped in his mind when she got out of that garden. She had to get to him.
Uma gave each and every one of them a menacing glare as she spoke with gradually fading restraint. “Tell me where he is or I swear to you I will smash you’re statues to bits and remodel them into your gravestones!”
The Muses weren’t daunted by her threats. In fact, realization and newfound interest overtook all of their stony expression. They started to walk off of their pedestal, talking successive of one another.
“Actually, why don’t you tell us about this ‘he?’”
“Anybody special to you?”
“Uh,” Uma blanked, not knowing what brought about this sudden change of demeanor. They were slowly surrounding her. She didn’t want to give them the advantage of knowing a potential weakness, so she simply told them, “He’s a partner of mine.”
“Romantically?”
“What?” Uma asked in disbelief, her face growing warm at the idea of her first mate being more than a first mate. “No! He’s just a friend.”
“Is he a handsome fellow?”
“Strong as the seas?”
“Steady as a mountain?”
“Eyes like twinkling stars?”
“I–I guess so,” Uma stuttered, not sure where any of this was going.
“Have you known him long?” Asked the muse with a scroll.
“Sure,” Uma replied, almost like a question.
“Is he sweet on you?” Asked the muse with Bantu knots in her hair.
Her brained became flooded with memories of all the times Harry got down on one knee and whispered her name, or threatened someone who challenged her, or took her hand in his and gently kissed it.
“Maybe,” was he terse reply.
“C’mon now, Honey,” the plump muse chastise her friend, nudging her in the side with her elbow. “The real question is if she’s sweet on him.”
“Tha–that’s not important!” Uma almost shouted, her voice cracking.
“It’s okay, Sugah,” the tall Muse encouraged sweetly, and Uma gave her a skeptical look. Her aura seemed so calming, yet Uma had only found their questions thus far to be intrusive and stressful. There was a brief moment of silence before the muse told her, “You can say you’re in love.”
“Wha–No! No way!” Uma declared with finality, though she was far more flustered than before, “I won’t say I’m in love!”
And just like that, the Muses were silent. Uma thought she may have gotten through to them.
Until, out of no where, a harp started playing.
The lovely and inviting tune made Uma want to scream and run away.
THAT WAS AMAZING!!! 👏🏾👏🏾 And Dionysus testing Harry is genius
@chanora and lets be real tho. Uma would be the DEAD LAST person to finish her test. She and the Muses will come out of their testing room, and Uma will be both embarrassed and confused because the rest of the squad is just sitting around and chilling in togas with the gods. (Uh oh, im gonna start writing again)
“What are you guys doing here?” Uma asked her friends (and Mal’s group), “What happened to your tests?”
“We all finished our tests like forty-five minutes ago,” Jay replied. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Oh,” Uma said awkwardly, taking everyone’s frustrated glares as they came. Then, she saw Harry walking towards her out of the corner of her eye, and she didn’t care about everyone else anymore.
“Harry!” She exclaimed, running the rest of the way to meet him. He wasn’t expecting her to practically jump on him in a big embrace, but he wasn’t complaining. He caught her in his arms and chuckled, and that let her know that Dionysus didn’t drive him into insanity. When he set her down, she instinctively started checking him for injuries. “Are you alright?” She asked him.
“Uma, I should be asking you that,” he said with a smirk, and Uma’s heart fluttered at the concern in his voice. She was experiencing all kinds of bizarre symptoms of this new Love thing all at once.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she told him, trying to minimize her smile. She shrugged her shoulders and admitted, “I just had to do the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Harry said. “You were in there for a long time. I got worried.”
Once again, Uma’s brain and heart magnified his compassion into some high-inducing endorphin that made her hands sweaty and her knees weak. She was so affected by her new emotions that she almost missed Harry’s next question.
“Wha’d ye have to do?”
Uma’s smile dropped, and she hesitated before trying to explain what happened without actually explaining what happened, her eyes darting everywhere but to his face. “Well, I uh…I had t-to…er you see, I…” she trailed off and finally met his eyes. “You know what? I’ll tell you later.”
And all you hear is the collective groaning of the Muses behind her.
YOO but imagine if it was an illusion?
Next thing you know Harry fades away in a mist and so does everyone else and it swarms all around her next thing Uma knows she’s back in a Greek garden however this one comes with a temple and when she steps inside there is a beautiful woman waiting for her. The Uma approaches her
“What-what is this? WHERES HARRY?WHO ARE YOU?!”
The beautiful women in front of her chuckles
“Impatient and demanding aren’t we, well I have many and names many forms but you my dear can call me Aphrodite.”
Uma gasp at the goddess. No not just any goddess the goddess of love and beauty but more importantly love.
“What do you want from me, I thought the test was over”
“Oh it was my dear but I still feel like you were lying to yourself ‘at least out loud’ you won’t say it but I know that there is a floodgate around your heart that demands to be opened.”
The goddess looks knowing at Uma and raises a brow at her. Uma presses her lips together and clenches her fist she locked eyes with the goddess her cold hard eyes started right at her as she refuses to give an answer.
“Now now Uma you know I’m not the enemy here, I’m just doing my job as a goddess you can glare at me all you want but I don’t care about your souls I care about your heart and I can sense that it’s in pain, tell me this isn’t just you’re feelings but something else.”
Uma takes a breath, there was no hiding from the goddess her test wasn’t over and if she dosent get out of here soon she might let Harry and her crew down.
“Of course” the goddess beams “Of course he is the first one who comes to mind.”
Uma’s throat feels tight she wasn’t going to cry but she wanted to scream. Aphrodite was an underestimated goddess indeed, everyone always says that she’d be the most useless in a battle but here she is crumbling Uma’s walls practically defeating her.
“Uma you are smart I’m sure Athena herself would be proud but I am not Athena and you should figure out the reason why I’m here love and beauty are my specialty, you are as beautiful as the bright coral reefs of the sea but your heart is not content, there is something you fear what is it? You must tell me if you ever want to see him-Harry again.”
Just then Aphrodite holds up a very similar hook that shined at the tip. Uma gasp at the sight.
“I know he’d want this back who else perfect enough to return it to him other than his beloved captain, it will be yours once you open your heart and tell me.”
Uma took a deep breathe she built every courage she could and unclenched her fist, her head dropped but she looks up at the goddess who was looking at her with a way to gentle smile and a knowing look.
“My heart huh? Fine yes I love him….I-I love Harry Hook.”
Aphrodite gave a brilliant smile and Uma’s own words shook her core there was a sort of relief that washed over her but her heart was still heavy.
“And…..”
The goddes replied, obviously wanting more than a confession, Uma knew what she wanted and she dreaded to next words that will leave her.
“And I’m afraid that he may not love me back as much as I loved him, I’m afraid that all these years of loyalty I was just fooling myself and over thinking that he may feel the same way but-but I must wrong Harry is a good villan he knows how to play with minds and hearts and I might’ve thrown myself into a trap.”
And with that Aphrodite smiled but it wasn’t like before, the smile was sympathetic as she watched the young sea witch bravely try to hold back her tears. She approached Uma and extended her hand that held the hook towards Uma. Uma looked at it then at her.
“Hero’s and villains don’t know just how both powerful and fragile the heart could be, it’s funny cause I’ve seen Harry’s heart as well, I know his feeling towards you Uma.”
Just then Uma’s eyes shimmered and widened, the goddess rushed to finish what she had to say before Uma assumed anything.
“No no I won’t tell you that, that you must find out by yourself here take it.”
Just then Uma took the hook and held it like a precious treasure, she was at a lost for words so many things were reeling through her mind.
“You know Uma I like you, and not just because your family, I will give you a deal and a blessing, if you tell Harry Hook how you feel I promise that you will get what you most desire, and I know it’s more than just revenge, now go you have passed your test and when the time comes complete your deal.”
After moments of speechlessness Uma finally spoke again.
“Alright fine it’s a deal and…thank you.”
Just then at the end of the temple the walls begin to shine brightly, holding her head up high Uma nods to Aphrodite and walks into the light.
@dxscxndxnts sorry I took it too far but I just popped into my head!
1. a song from the year you were born 2. a song that reminds you of school 3. a song tied to a specific moment in your life 4.
a song that is not sung in your native language 5.
a song over 5 minutes long 6.
a song under 2 minutes long 7.
an instrumental 8.
a classical piece 9.
a song with no percussion 10.
something you’ve heard performed live 11.
something you’d give ANYTHING to hear performed
live 12.
a song by an artist who’s from where you’re from
(town/city/state/country) 13.
a song made suddenly precious because of a
special someone 14.
a song made suddenly awful because of a special
someone 15.
something to BELT SHAMELESSLY/do DIVA HANDS to 16.
something to SCREAM ALONG to 17.
a song for raging 18.
a song that demands lipsyncing into a makeshift
microphone 19.
the last song you had stuck in your head 20.
a song you’re dying to master all the words to 21.
a song that you could SLAY at karaoke 22.
a song you can’t help but dance to 23.
a song that makes you want to dance on a table 24.
a song that makes you wanna STRIP 25.
a song with a great music video 26.
a song that makes you act out the music video
when you hear it 27.
a song with counting 28.
a song with spelling 29.
a song with lots of clapping 30.
a song 40 years older than you 31.
a song you wish your parents didn’t know the
words to 32.
a song whose lyrics shocked you once you were old
enough to understand them 33.
a song you have ZERO patience for 34.
a song you’d like your favorite artist to cover 35.
a great song you discovered thanks to a movie 36.
a great song you discovered thanks to television 37.
a song you’re ashamed to have in your music
library 38.
ok what’s the song you were too ashamed to even
post for #37 39.
the most played song in your music library 40.
favorite disney song
So this is a totally useless rant, but as a skinny girl, I’m getting extra, extra tired of fat-shaming.
I work for a corsetier at a Renaissance Faire. We sell corsets. Not flimsy bullshit costume corsets; like real, durable, waist-training corsets. Today a woman came in with her boyfriend, so I helped her pick out a corset and try it on. While her boyfriend—who was decidedly enthused about the whole corset thing—sat watching me lace her in, he told me, grinning, “Of all the good jobs at the Renaissance Faire, I think you have the best.”
I shrugged in agreement. “I touch butts and reach down cleavage all day; I mean…” Because we like to be a bit rakish at the Faire, and, y’know, it’s true. Tying people into corsets pretty much invariably requires getting handsy.
The couple laughed at that, and the boyfriend said, “That’s the job I would want!” But then he chuckled again and said, offhand, “Or maybe not; while we were looking at the racks, there were some pretty big sizes on there!”
Our sizes are all done in inches, and the biggest we make is a 46. And you’d better believe our large sizes sell. For a second I wasn’t sure what to say to the guy’s comment, but I answered him casually. “We get a lot of beautiful big ladies in here.” Because we do. “We make corsets for real women, not Barbie dolls,” I added. Wasn’t trying to be smart, just kind of tossed it out there because that’s the line we like to use when people ask about larger sizes, and because, again, we do.
The boyfriend went quiet at that; I didn’t think anything of it, I just kept on lacing. A moment later, he said, a little awkwardly (but sincerely enough), “Didn’t mean to be offensive.”
I quickly smiled and brushed it off, said he wasn’t, said I was just saying. (Don’t want to make the customers uncomfortable, you know?) And that was the end of it. His comment had rubbed me the wrong way, but it wasn’t a big deal. Now, I wear a 20-inch corset. I’m a few cup sizes short of being one of the Barbie dolls. Like his girlfriend, I’m one of the “hot chicks”; he doesn’t have to worry about offending me by implying that I wouldn’t be fun to poke and pull at.
Honestly though, of all the people I fit sexy technically-undergarments to in a day, fat girls are maybe my favorite people to lace up. Because they are just so damn happy that we have stuff that fits them. They are so damn happy that the corsets we make in their sizes are all the same pretty, shiny colors and cool flower/dragon/skull/etc. prints that the smaller corsets are, not ugly beige and boring “granny” colors. They are so goddamn happy that at least one (of several on the grounds) corset shop carries things that they can wear, that they actually want to wear, and that they look fucking awesome in. This is only my second season working, and we’ve fit 60+ inch waists and double-K busts. The only people we’ve ever had to tell sorry, we don’t have anything that fits them, are twelve-year-old kids.
It’s half-wonderful, half-heartbreaking how excited those women get. Women who say with sad smiles, when we ask if they want to get fitted, “Oh, no, you don’t have anything that fits me,” and then are stunned when we’re 300% confident that yes we do, and we have options. Women who can’t stop smiling and looking at themselves in the mirror after we’ve got them laced in.
I had a lady last week whose waist I measured (cinching the tape tight, as per procedure) at 41 inches—honestly not all that big. So she picked out a 41-inch corset to try on. I could tell halfway through getting her laced that it was going to be a bit big for her, so I mentioned it and said she might do better to try a smaller size. She started crying on the spot. She was so overwhelmed; she couldn’t believe someone had just told her that a 41 was too big. She told me about how hard clothes shopping was for her, how her mother would tell her she needed an XXXL instead of an XXL, how she had recently lost weight but still couldn’t wear certain colors because they didn’t fit or she wasn’t confident enough.
She did end up getting her corset, and after I checked her out she asked if she could give me a hug, so we ended up standing there hugging each other for a minute. While we did, I told her, “Do not ever let anyone tell you any bullshit. You are gorgeous.” She said, “I have a new boyfriend and he keeps telling me that.” I told her he was right, and to just keep telling herself she’s gorgeous; it was okay if she didn’t always believe it, but to keep telling herself anyway. (That’s how I talked myself through shit when I had bad anxiety.)
We all know fat-shaming is bad. The stupidity, fatphobia, and misogyny of it has pissed me off since I first became aware of it. But working with clothing, especially as figure-hugging and precise as corsets, has given me a new perspective on it—how much it affects people and just how shitty it is. Like, what does it say that I had a grown, only average-big woman crying into my shoulder because she was so overjoyed not to be the uppermost extremity of what a manufacturer can clothe?
My job rocks and it’s really rewarding, but sometimes it highlights some of the ugliest shit about society. I’m so glad I work at a shop that’s not bullshit about body types and operates with more people in mind than just scrawny white chicks like me. The fat women I work with are a ton of fun to lace up, and they’re so much more than their size—they’re cool, they’re smart, they’re funny, they’re sweet, they’re great to talk to, and yes, they’re hot. I’m so damn done with them getting short-changed and shamed by petty fucks who refuse to make them nice clothes, who refuse to even try to work for them, who refuse to consider them pretty. This whole rant was useless and won’t get read, but I had to vent because it’s been driving me nuts.
So actually, screw you, random dude. Fat girls are the highlight of my job.
I love how Ray Holt is portrayed simultaneously as a serious, emotionless captain as well as the most dramatic and petty person on the whole team. I live for his deadpan dramatic-ness and I’ve honestly never seen a character like him before on TV
The first time we see Kevin, he describes Holt as hilarious and the other characters are bewildered by this, but Holt has been a prankster since the beginning of the show. In the very first episode, when he was making Jake carry on with the robot impression, he was pranking him. The hula hoop incident.The fact he got so into the Halloween heists. Winding Jake up is one of his greatest sources of amusement and he loves playing jokes on people.
It’s just that no one recognises them as jokes because his face stays utterly serious throughout.
i hate when ppl say shit like BUT ANTIDEPRESSANTS ALTER YOUR BRAIN FUNCTION UNNATURALLY READ UP ON IT NURGGHH like yeah, youre right, they force it to produce serotonin so i can function, similar to how i take thyroxine bc my thyroid doesnt fucking make the right shit, similar to how people with diabetes take insulin, similar to how people with low iron take iron supplements, you thin slice of nutloaf
do you yell at people for eating food bc their body doesnt just naturally photosynthesize energy on its own
tbh im not even just a double texter im a decatexter like ill impulsively send 10 seperate texts instead of fitting it all into one whos gonna try and stop me
speaking of murder anons: I don’t know if this has been mentioned yet but imagine getting to see the moment amy actually decided she wanted to marry jake,, like was it a tiny moment? was she just working a late shift and he grinned at her from across the desk and let her steal half his coffee and she realized she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him (stealing his coffee and letting him steal her heart?)
it was something soft, i think.
maybe it was outside of the café, when her ex-boyfriend was
on one knee in front of her and a small, small wisp of her being wished it was
jake on the dirty concrete, that he was the one proposing. the thought is
something that caught her off guard, because while she has that calendar
hanging above her bed, something that she never added was “marriage” or “family.”
a part of her wanted to add a block for it, but she didn’t want jake to get
scared. she knew how he’d grown up a child of divorce, and it’s something she
didn’t want to force him into.
or maybe it was when they were babysitting terry’s
daughters, and they were trying to avoid having the conversation about
profiling with the two little girls. amy was searching through the jeffords’
dvd collection while jake tried to bake the distraction-cake, and once she extricated
trolls she padded into the kitchen
just to see him trying to use an electric mixer to beat the batter, but she
laughed, hovering at the periphery of the tile floor by the door, when he can’t
figure out how to get it to go faster. so he gave up, trading out the mechanism
for a wooden spoon, and right as he got it smooth (ish) he looked up to see her
standing by the fridge, and she quipped something snarky (not that she can cook
any better) which caused him to fling the vanilla at her, and a glob landed on
her cheek and they ended up taking more time than it should for two grown
adults to pour batter into a pan (they almost forgot to butter the pan which would
have been bad). it was in this moment that she wondered what
it’d be like to push (cooked) wedding cake into his face, filled with this same
kind of joy bubbling in her chest.
or maybe it was when she kissed him on top of the roof, and
he tried to die-hard off the side with a fire-hose and in the brief moment of
panic she also realized that no one else would jump off a freaking roof so that she could take her sergeant’s
exam. that she wouldn’t want anyone
else to.
so you bring up an interesting point, anon. i wonder what
the exact moment was for amy, because it could have been any number of things.
it could have been anything i mentioned here, or maybe something else, like
them working a case together and her heart swelled when they were racing through
the miranda rights and she realized that she knew him just as well as she knew
how to recite the warning she memorized back in the academy. that he’s her best
friend. that he makes her happier than anything else in the world. that she’s
the best version of herself when she’s with him.
ok so there’s a game me and my friends play called “don’t get me started” and basically someone gives another person a random topic and they have to go on an angry rant about it and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to us at parties and car rides so I highly recommend playing sometimes with your friends
I love this idea. We used to do things like this in Improv.
Related game: “THINK ABOUT IT.” You’re given a random topic, and your job is to build it into an epic conspiracy theory, the crazier the better. You end your rant with a serious face and the command that your listeners “Think about it.”
Another related game: Illuninati. Similar to Think About It except you are given 2 completely different topics and you have to connect them to each other in a wild conspiracy rant
“I want an answer, goddammit!” And “I don’t owe you an explanation.” In the same fic for Jemma please? Your writing is just so amazing!
My…writing…is…amazing? I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much!
Emma was mad. More than mad she was furious. Julian had known what it would do to her and he’d still done it, and it had caused one of their few arguments. The rest of the inhabitants had heard the shouting and had all run away, to the safety of their rooms, not wanting to get caught up in a potential world war three and were doing whatever it took to drown out the yelling coming from the kitchen.
“We tell each other everything Jules, and yet you went away and did this behind my back” Emma exclaimed, the hurt clear in her voice. And she wasn’t sure what had hurt her the most about the situation. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you would be angry and would try and stop me” Jules retorted, arms folded across his chest. “And you thought I wouldn’t be angry now, after you did?” Emma replied.
“Look Em, I get you’re pissed…” Jules started but was cut off by Emma screaming “Pissed, of course I’m pissed Julian. You did something behind my back, knowing it would hurt me and lied to my face and you haven’t given me a good explanation as to why.
I want an answer, goddammit!” and hitting her fist down on the table at the last part of her sentence. “I don’t owe you an explanation Emma” was all he said as a response.
“I don’t owe you an explanation” Emma repeated back, in piss-taking voice causing Jules to roll his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Jules said “don’t you think you are over reacting?” and the anger on Emma’s face was clear, and Jules genuinely thought she was going to launch over the table and strangle him. “I. AM. NOT. OVER. REACTING” Emma screamed, and Jules leant back against the wall behind, then, gestured his arm to he going “all this rage because I ate the last of your chocolate stash? Yes Emma I’d say you were over reacting”
The reason Jace Herondale is so important, is for every person that’s felt what it is like to feel broken. For everyone that’s felt no matter how much you try to be better, and good, often it feels like you just can’t fix it.
He is the hero of those that know what it feels
like to not know if you can trust your own head, to not know what is real. He’s for those who know what real panic feels like, and that sometimes for no reason at all, pain just comes back and you can’t stop it.
He matters for those that know what’s like to hate and love
your parents.
He’s for those that can’t understand feeling loved without feeling guilty or ashamed. He is a character for people that have had their love and their minds manipulated far too many times before, that they don’t know what a real relationship even feels like.
He’s for people that desperately need shelter, and affection, and love, but never learned to ask for anything they really needed in life. He’s for people that have in any form had greater pain than anyone their age and don’t know how to move on from there.
He’s for people that are grieving for people they loved, people that hurt them, and for the person they wished to be. He’s for the people that feel their love is never needed, or important, or that they just don’t know how to give it.
He’s for everyone that has ever been used to an inch of their self love and self respect, and just want hope that things can be better one day.
Jace is a character for all those people with all of that pain, and who is still blatantly filled with so much love, and goodness,
and selflessness, and bravery, and generosity, and kindness. He is a character for those people to love, themselves, and realize that if they can love him and see the good in him, and the wrong in those who’ve wronged him, why can’t they do it for themselves?
He is a character that shows everyone that feels broken, that you can feel that way, in every sense of the word, and not be broken at all. That you can feel weak and be a hero. That you can have your love used, and still find people you can trust with it. That there’s HOPE.
Jace is a character for anyone that needs someone to tell them, “I’ve been where you are, and I’ve made my way out, so can you. I’ve found where I belong, so can you. I’ve learned to love and trust again, so can you. I’ve earned my life back, so can you.”
So don’t you dare say that Jace Herondale doesn’t matter. Because sometimes to feel heard, understood, and identify w someone that can feel just like you do, and still be good, and still be brave, and still be light, and still be loved, and still be whole, is ALL that matters.
