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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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Merthur soulmate AU where they can always find each other:

Leon fulfils his self-appointed “older brother” role by helping them get away with it, and Morgana decides the son of her new guardian wasn’t so bad after all, if he came with such a great friend.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

This was requested a little while ago, also Homophobia doesn’t exist in this world and maybe that’s unrealistic but I literally don’t care, let me have this.

Everyone has a soulmate. It’s a fact of life.

No one really knows quite how it works, only that it’s something magical, and has been around since before recorded history.

Everyone can find their soulmate. They feel a tug in their heart, that always pulls them in the right direction, no matter what. No matter what obstacles or distance separates them, they may always be united, they may always find their way home.

Soulmate bonds were the one piece of magic that King Uther left untouched when he started his purge, for he was bonded to Arthur’s mother, and despite his cruelty, he could never find it in himself to deprive others of such a feeling.

(Besides, they were so ancient and global, there’s nothing he could’ve done to destroy them; easier to save his pride and leave them be.)

Very rarely, only a few times in a century, a pairing will appear whose bond is so strong, the compass in their hearts works in a slightly different manner.

King Uther’s son, Prince Arthur, and heir to the throne of Camelot, was one half of such a special pairing.

The first time the Prince disappeared, he was five, and meant to be taking a nap.

This meant that his nannies hadn’t even noticed he was gone before he reappeared in his bed, and no one in the castle knew of his little adventure.

To say Hunith was surprised by the appearance of a very young, very blond child in her kitchen was an understatement.

The last thing she was expecting to see when she turned around from laying her three year old down for a nap, was a noble-looking boy, who definitely hadn’t been there moments before.

After she recovers from her shock, she glances over at the front door (still locked) before looking back at the child with concern. She took a step towards him, and crouched down before quietly speaking:

“Hi there sweetie, how did you get in here?”

Child!Arthur ignores her, instead taking a wobbly step towards Toddler!Merlin, and without looking away from him, asks:

“Who’s that?”

Hunith is taken aback at that, and looks more closely at the child. He was clearly in sleep clothes, but they were made from expensive fabrics, and he looked chubby and happy and healthy, not like most young children around these parts.

She steps in front of Arthur again to try and catch his eye:

“Why don’t you tell me your name, and we’ll try to find your mum?”

Arthur looks at her only briefly as he pouts, before side-stepping again and regaining his line of sight to the dark haired toddler (still sleeping):

“Don’t have a mum. And dad’s busy. I wanted to find my person.”

Hunith tilts her head at that, but before she can ask what he means, Arthur finally looks at her properly, and begins speaking again:

“Are you my person? Or is it him? Nanny Marge says everyone has a person, and we can always find them.” he says it with confidence, and a self satisfied nod.

Hunith blinks, she knows all about soulmates, everyone does, but that still didn’t explain how the child had just appeared:

“Well, my name’s Hunith, and that’s my son, Merlin. Where are you from?”

Arthur yawns and stumbles towards Merlin, wrapped in blankets and laid in the corner. Hunith goes to grab him (Merlin was a fussy toddler, and it took forever to get him to sleep and she really didn’t want him to be woken up again.) but relaxes as Arthur sits cross-legged about a foot away from him, not ripping his gaze away for a moment.

He looks back up at Hunith sleepily, obviously starting to feel the effects of not napping:

“Mer-lin. I like that name. Like the birdy. I’m Prince Arthur of Camelot, son of King Uther.” He says the last part like it’s been rehearsed (it has) and Hunith stifles a gasp as she finally realises what’s happened.

Her old love, before he left, had told her of the rare pairings that appeared occasionally. The soulmates whose bond is so strong, they simply have to wish to be in the others presence, and they will appear there.

Truth be told, Hunith thought it was just a story. Soulmates are fairytale enough, but being able to appear at their side whenever you so wished? That was the stuff of love-stories and legend. Yet here stood a child, who claimed to be a Prince from another kingdom, who should be safely locked away in a castle several days journey from here. And all he seemed interested in, was Merlin.

Hunith wasn’t really sure what to do with this revelation. Not that she wasn’t glad her son had a soulmate, but her son’s soulmate was heir to a throne that would order a pyre for Merlin, even as a child. Merlin was floating spoons and lighting candles and knocking over cups before he could even crawl. Camelot was no place for him, at least not right now.

What if he accidentally did magic in front of the Prince? Would Arthur be scared, would he hate his own soulmate? Or would he not yet understand and tell someone accidentally? Would the King order his own son’s soulmate killed, if he found out?

Hunith shook the questions from her mind for now. Merlin was asleep, and she needed to figure out how to persuade Arthur that he needed to go back home:

“Arthur, that’s a lovely name. I know you want to find your person Arthur, but I think it might be best if you go home, before someone starts worrying, don’t you?”

Little Arthur yawns again, but pouts:

“I don’t want to go back. It’s so boring there, no one except Leon lets me play anything, and Leon’s busy.”

Hunith holds in a sigh, she can imagine life is difficult for an heir to the throne, especially with a father like Uther. She crouches down to his level again:

“I know sweetie, but you don’t want anyone worrying, do you?”

Arthur waits a moment before shaking his head forlornly. Hunith hopes she’s persuaded him, the only way he would go back is if he wanted to, she couldn’t force him. And she really didn’t want to have to journey back to Camelot on foot, and have to explain to the King why she had his son:

“No. I like Nanny Marge, and dad is always mean to her when she loses me.” Hunith frowns at that, but before she can say anything, Arthur stands on wobbly legs, and looks at her with determination:

“Ok. Bye-bye-”

He looks to Merlin again, and whispers his next few words, like he didn’t want to wake him:

“Bye Merlin. I promise I’ll come back-”

He looks back to Hunith again:

“Please can I come back? Leon says I should ask permission before going to someone’s home, so can I please please come back?”

Hunith worries her lip with her teeth at that, they were soulmates, she couldn’t exactly say no. But she also didn’t want to encourage the little prince to just disappear whenever he was bored:

“I... of course, Arthur, you’re more than welcome. But not too often, and not for too long, OK?” she tilts her head in question, and smiles when Arthur gives a decisive nod.

She holds in a smile as the Little Prince (what she had affectionately been referring to him as in her head) scrunched his face in concentration, closing his eyes. After a few seconds, he disappears with a pop and a few sparks, and she lets out a breath of relief, hoping that he had returned safely.

She stands still for a moment and blinks, seemingly trying to process all that had happened. She hums thoughtfully, before looking lovingly towards her son, and muttering to herself:

“I have a feeling that your future just got a lot more complicated, my love.”

For the next year, Arthur would pop in and out of Hunith’s house once a month or so. He only ever came when he was meant to be having a nap (the only time he was really unsupervised during the day).

Luckily, it would appear, that he and Merlin shared nap times; Merlin can’t accidentally expose his magic to the Little Prince if he was asleep every time he appeared.

Over the visits, Hunith learnt as much about Arthur as she could. He knew Gaius, which she was definitely relieved at (and sent a letter to him explaining everything the day she found out they knew each other). Someone in the castle knowing where Arthur had disappeared off to, if anyone ever noticed, would help.

She also found out who Leon was, the son of a noble, an aspiring knight-to-be, around twelve years old to Arthur’s six (both he and Merlin had birthdays at some point between visits), and that he seemed to be the only person around who allowed Arthur to have a little fun every once in a while.

After a little coaxing, she found that Arthur didn’t really know anything about his mother, only what Leon could remember, because Uther refused to speak of her (she thought that was a little heartbreaking, but hid it well).

Arthur kept his word, and never stayed for longer than ten minutes, but Hunith worried; she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold Arthur off for very long. He had visited around thirteen times, and Merlin had been asleep for every one of them.

Arthur would want to wake him up eventually, to actually talk to his soulmate, and who knows what Merlin would do.

Eventually, a few months before Merlin’s fifth birthday, Hunith sat him down and told him what had been happening. That he and his soulmate were very special, and that Arthur had been visiting whilst he was asleep.

To say that Merlin was excited was a vast understatement, and Hunith had to quell her panic when he asked if he could visit Arthur where he was:

“No Merlin, I’m sorry, you have to stay here, remember?-”

She frowns sorrowfully at Merlin’s pout and teary eyes, before schooling her face into a smile and continuing:

“But I promise, next time he visits, I’ll wake you up and you can play together, does that sound fun?-”

She chuckles at his excited nod:

“But only if you don’t use your gift sweetheart, Arthur might not be as good at keeping secrets as you or I am, so we’ll have to wait until he’s older, do you understand?” she whispers that, hoping that it would be easier to convince him if he thought of it as a fun game, instead of a life threatening secret.

Merlin thinks for a minute before nodding:

“Yes mama. No magic until he’s older.”

Hunith pats him on the head, taking a deep breath and preparing herself for Merlin to repeatedly ask her how long until Arthur visited.

So that’s how it goes for several years, Arthur visiting Ealdor when no one was paying attention, he and Merlin playing quietly, with no magic, for a while, before Arthur popped back home.

Hunith was grateful for the current simplicity, but she knew it couldn’t last. Merlin had been asking more and more if he could visit Arthur, and it was only a matter of time before he snuck off without telling her.

That, and the magic problem.

Arthur had spoken of his lessons, how according to everyone at home, magic was evil. Merlin always looked so sad at that, and Hunith was grateful for the fact that Arthur didn’t sound so sure. But she also knew that it was only a matter of time before Arthur was convinced by his father’s determined hatred, and she didn’t want to see the heartbreak on Merlin’s face.

The first time The Little Prince spoke of an execution, he was eight, and Merlin had just had his seventh birthday. Merlin cried as Arthur described it, and Hunith had to stop the anger at Arthur growing in her: it wasn’t his fault, and he didn’t exactly sound happy about it at all.

If anything, he seemed almost as upset as Merlin and when Arthur had noticed Merlin’s tears, he stopped talking immediately and bit his lip, looking to Hunith worriedly.

Hunith clenched her jaw before wrapping an arm around each of the children, and speaking to Arthur quietly as Merlin still sniffled:

“Do you think you can keep a secret, Arthur? A really big one, from everyone? Even Leon and your dad?”

He nodded vigorously, and Hunith gives him a weak smile before looking to Merlin, who stared back at her with watery eyes:

“Go on then Merlin, I think he’s old enough to know, don’t you?”

Merlin nodded this time, a little more hesitantly than Arthur, but he looks to his soulmate anyway.

Arthur stared back with wide, worried eyes, and gasped as Merlin all but whispered:

“I was born with magic. I am magic.”

Arthur looks scared for a split second, before he shuffles close to Merlin and taking his pudgy hand in his own. He thinks for a second, before looking at Hunith quickly, and then Merlin. He gives a firm nod as he says:

“I don’t care, and I promise not to tell anyone. If you have magic then it can’t be evil, and when I’m King, I’ll make sure everyone else knows that as well.”

Hunith lets out a sigh of relief, feeling like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders as Arthur’s short arms pull the three of them into a tight hug.

The first time Merlin disappears, is almost a year later. Arthur was nine, and Merlin was only a few days away from being eight.

During Arthur’s last visit, he had told them of a new addition to the castle, a sad, dark haired girl called Morgana, a year older than him.

He explained that something had happened to her parents, and his father had taken her in.

Merlin seemed concerned at that, and Hunith had a feeling that it would only be a matter of time before her son decided he wanted to help her (the boy was dangerously empathetic, he teared up at even the thought of other people suffering).

When she found the scrawled note on the table (Arthur had begun sneaking books with him, and he and Hunith would sit with Merlin, teaching him to read and write as best they could) with backwards letters and misspelt words, she almost panicked.

But she sat herself down and took a deep breath, knowing that Arthur had managed to keep the secret so far, and that Merlin could just reappear if he found himself in danger.

That didn’t stop her from scolding a sheepish Merlin when he returned half an hour later.

Arthur and Merlin had organised it on their previous visit. Arthur would make sure that he was locked safely in his room at a specific time, and Merlin could come to him for a change. Then Arthur could go get Morgana (and maybe Leon) so he could meet them.

Morgana had only been there for a month or so, and she had yet to warm up to Arthur. She was quiet, but had a sharp tongue when she chose to speak, not that that had put Arthur off quite yet.

He was still determined that they would be friends, and Merlin was great! So what better way to get Morgana to like him, than to introduce her to Merlin?

Merlin was overjoyed when he appeared in Arthur’s room, the bedchamber being larger that the footprint of his entire house back in Ealdor. The bed itself was what he found most impressive, it was so huge and soft! And there were so many blankets and pillows! Merlin quietly thought to himself that he should come here more often.

Arthur was nervous. Excited, but nervous. They’d known each other for years now, but this was the first time that Merlin was actually seeing his home. What if he didn’t like it? What if he didn’t want to be soulmates anymore, because he preferred his own home?

(”Although-” The Little Prince started to think, “if Merlin decided he wanted to stay in Ealdor, I think I would just stay with him. ‘Gana can do all my boring King stuff here, and I can go be a farmer with Merlin.”)

Those nerves disappeared the moment he saw the grin on Merlin’s face. Arthur showed Merlin where to hide, just in case, whilst he went to fetch Morgana. He had already told her he had a surprise, so it shouldn’t take too long to persuade her to follow him.

Arthur found her in a flower garden hidden round the back of the castle, she gave in and allowed him to drag her by the hand to his chambers with only minimal grumbling. She did however glare as Arthur pressed a hand over her mouth when she went to question why they were hiding from everyone who passed them in the corridors.

Eventually they were stood outside Arthur’s chambers, but before they enter, Arthur turns to Morgana and whispers conspiratorially:

“This is a secret so you have to promise not to tell anyone, kay? Not even Leon or my dad.”

Before Morgana could reply, she gasps, looking over Arthur’s shoulder with wide eyes.

Arthur turns and bites his lip as he sees Leon (now 15, and well into his initial Knight training) leaning against the wall casually, arms folded on his chest, and an eyebrow raised:

“What is it that no one is meant to be telling me, My Lord?”

Morgana stands in silence, hands folded in front of her, trying to appear as casual as possible as Arthur stutters:

“Oh... err... nothing Leon. I just wanted.... I wanted to show ‘Gana what I learnt on the piano this morning!” He hears Morgana huff behind him, she hated when Arthur called her that, and had said as much to him, but he didn’t seem to care.

Leon raises his eyebrow even further as he begins walking towards the two children:

“Is that so? Well why is that such a big secret? Don’t you want to show me too?”

As Leon stops in front of Arthur, towering over the boy, he puts his serious “I’m-potentially-about-to-tell-you-off-if-you-don’t-start-telling-the-truth” face:

“I... uhh... wanted it to be a secret! Until I get better! Then I can show you and dad!”

Morgana struggles not to mutter complaints at his terrible lying as Leon sighs:

“Arthur, what have we said about lying? It makes communication hard, and makes it difficult for people to trust you, and will only lead to problems later on. Would you like to try again?”

Arthur looks to the floor as he shuffles again, and Morgana feels just a little sorry for him. Not that she would say that.

Leon sighs once more and crouches to his level, forcing Arthur to meet his eyes. He gives the young prince a small smile as he speaks:

“If you don’t want to tell me Arthur, that’s fine. “It’s a secret for me and Morgana” is a perfectly acceptable answer. But lying isn’t. If you promise me that you aren’t doing anything naughty, then I’ll trust you, but I would feel better if another adult did know about it.”

Arthur looks up at him at that, surprised. His father would never accept Arthur keeping secrets from him. He replies quietly:

“It’s a secret for me and Morgana... and an adult does know about it... sort of. And it isn’t bad, I promise! Buuuuut-”

Arthur fiddles with his hands as he looks to his door briefly, before looking back at Leon:

“-if you promise to keep it a secret too, then you can see!-”

Arthur pulls his face into a scowl before continuing:

“-but ONLY if you promise!”

Leon hums exaggeratedly, and rubs his chin:

“Well... I promise to keep it a secret IF it isn’t naughty, or hurting anyone. How does that sound?”

Arthur’s face breaks into a grin and he nods, before opening his door and stepping inside. He quickly waves the others in and shuts and locks the door behind them, taking their hands in his own:

“You can come out now Merls, I’ve bought them!”

Leon and Morgana were astonished when a skinny, semi-grubby, obviously peasant-boy, came crawling out from under Arthur’s bed, and had to hold in gasps.

Merlin stands awkwardly as Arthur grins at him, and waves nervously to the new-comers:

“Hi... I’m Merlin. Me and Arthur are-”

Before he can finish, Arthur excitedly interrupts him:

“He’s my soulmate!”

The room is silent for a while, Merlin getting more nervous by the second, Arthur practically bouncing off the walls with excitement (and being oblivious to the awkwardness), Morgana being marginally surprised but taking it in her stride, and Leon... well... Leon was absolutely freaking out. But you wouldn’t know that from looking at him.

After only about a minute (but it feels like forever for Merlin), Leon stutters some words out:

“Arthur where did you.... why... where did you find this kid??”

Arthur looks to him in confusion as he stops jumping up and down:

“I told you. He’s my soulmate.-”

He puffs up his chest and puts his hand on his hips, looking extremely proud of himself as he continues:

“-I found him all on my own. I’ve been visiting him forever, but I wanted him to come here for once, so he could meet ‘Gana.”

Morgana breaks out her stupor at that, and looks at Arthur incredulously before looking back at Merlin:

“Hi, Merlin.” with a small smile, which Merlin returns.

Leon takes in a deep breath, wondering how the hell he was supposed to deal with this. The Prince had... kidnapped a commoner? Without anyone in the castle noticing?? What??? Nothing in his lessons trained him for this.

He shakes off his confusion and finally looks away from Merlin, and to Arthur:

“Wait... what do you mean you’ve been visiting him? When have you been going? And where?”

Arthur swayed on the spot, trying to look innocent:

“At the beginning I went when I was supposed to be napping. Then I would go when I was meant to be doing self-study. I only go once or month or so, and not for very long. Merlin’s mum is always worried about someone missing me.”

Leon takes another deep breath:

“Arthur... how did you sneak out without anyone noticing? And how did you get Merlin in?”

As much as Leon wanted to solve the problem of “there is a random commoner child in the prince’s room” thing, he was also greatly disturbed by the fact that two children, who hadn’t even hit double digits yet, had been sneaking in and out of what was meant to be a heavily fortified, guarded, castle, for years.

Arthur seems to have a realisation at Leon’s questions:

“OH! Like this!”

With that, he runs out the room, and Leon goes to follow him, but the prince manages to shut the door just before he got there.

Morgana is looking on all of this with mild confusion and shock, not really understanding what was going on, but happy to wait quietly and see what would happen.

Just as Leon goes to open the door, he hears a pop, followed by a voice from behind him:

“See!” Leon freezes and he hears Morgana gasp.

The teen turns around slowly, to see a grinning Arthur stood next to a cheerful looking Merlin:

“Uhh... Arthur, how did you do that?-”

Leon begins panicking, the only thing running through his head is “sorcery!” and whilst he would like to believe that Uther would never harm his own son, with the way he was going with the purge... there was no guarantee.

He rushes forward and grips Arthur’s shoulders:

“I need you to tell me how you did that, right now Arthur, it’s important.”

Arthur frowns as he replies:

“I told you. He’s my soulmate. I just have to want to be with him, and I can be. Merlin’s mum says it’s super rare, and that makes us special.” Morgana once again gasps at that before smiling, and speaking for the first time since she said hello to Merlin:

“I heard about that! Two of the nobles in my old home could do it. It IS rare, but sometimes soulmates can blink and be next to each other, if they wanted that!”

Arthur and Merlin nod enthusiastically at that, and Leon sags with relief, now that his mind and heart weren’t racing so much, he did remember briefly reading something about that during his studies. And if all of this was just soulmate magic... then they should be safe.

Though by the looks of the boy... probably still best not tell Uther about it. He doubts the King would be pleased about his son being bonded with a peasant.

“Ok... ok.-”

Leon turns his attention to Merlin:

“-You said your name was Merlin? Does someone know that you’re here?”

Merlin nods as he replies:

“I left a note for my mum. But I can’t be too long though, or she’ll worry.”

Leon looks surprised at that:

“You can read and write?”

“I taught him!” comes proudly from Arthur.

Leon nods again and re-locks the door behind him, before gesturing at everyone to sit on the soft rug together.

After establishing that Merlin had only arrived just before Arthur went to fetch Morgana, Leon says that they can sit and talk for another 15 minutes or so before Merlin had to go home.

Arthur pouted at that, but a look from Leon stopped him before he actually complained. Morgana and Leon spent the time asking questions about Merlin: where he was from, and how old he was, and about his family.

Merlin was shy at first, but Arthur had been talking about Leon forever, and Morgana seemed nice, even if she did look a bit sad sometimes.

After their time was up, everyone gave Merlin a quick hug, and Arthur promised he’d try to pop over at some point next week (Leon definitely had to stop the momentary panic at that).

Merlin disappeared with a pop, and Arthur made Morgana and Leon promise not to tell once more. Once they promised, they each wondered off Morgana to an afternoon lesson, Leon to s training session, both deep in thought.

Arthur smiled to himself. He didn’t like keeping things from Leon, because he was the only one around who was any fun, and Morgana had definitely seemed happier. So his plan succeeded!

It continued like that for some time. Arthur was the one who went to Merlin’s most often, but occasionally Merlin would go to him.

Morgana slowly started cheering up, recovering from her grief, and the three of them (almost always overseen by an always-worrying Leon) loved spending time together, and playing in the safety of Arthur’s chambers.

Thankfully, Uther never questioned it, happy that his son and his new ward seemed to be getting along finally.

The first time Merlin woke crying from a nightmare that was filled with smoke and fire, he was twelve.

He appeared in Arthur’s room within seconds, wanting nothing but the comfort of having his soulmate next to him, and Arthur woke to the quiet sniffling of a distraught Merlin perched on the end of his bed.

Before he’s even fully awake, he has him wrapped in a hug, and is stroking his hair in an effort to calm him.

There may not be guards stationed outside his rooms during the day, but there were at night, and would be until he turned 18 (still four and a half years away), so they needed to be quiet.

They fall asleep curled up next to each other, clutching hands, and Merlin sleeps through the rest of the night without a problem. (They both wake with a start as a servant knocks on the door the next morning, and after the quickest hug they’ve ever shared, Merlin pops away, back to his own bed.)

That begins to happen more and more often, and after a couple weeks, Merlin is sleeping in Arthur’s bed most nights.

He isn’t quite sure if he sleeps so much better because the bed is worth more than his entire village (it’s so comfy!), or if his magic is more relaxed with Arthur by his side, but either way, the nightmares stop almost entirely.

Hunith realises fairly quickly what’s going on, and does worry briefly if going to the place his nightmares took place in was the best, but Merlin seemed happier, and less tired, and once he promised to always be back before the servants came into Arthur’s room, she was a little more ok with it.

(She also made Merlin and Arthur swear to tell Leon, just in case. She hasn’t met Leon of course, but the boys talk about him and Morgana constantly, and she was grateful that the boys had someone other than Gaius (who hadn’t actually met Merlin yet) to look out for them. At this rate, Leon wouldn’t be surprised if all of this caused him to have a heart attack before he was even officially knighted. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.)

Once Arthur finally persuades Merlin to tell him what his nightmares are about, he’s horrified. It’ll be then that Arthur will begin to be more vocal about his objection to the executions, and ask questions about magic. Uther always punishes him of course, but Arthur just learns to hold his tongue instead.

Merlin cries, Morgana smiles widely, and Leon is speechless, when Arthur tells them that:

“When I’m King, magic will be everywhere! Of course people will have to be careful with it, but in the same way us knights have to be careful with swords. Isn’t that right, Leon?”

Leon goes pale at that, and takes a few moments to respond:

“Right... well. Just.... make sure you do your research Arthur, and that you know all the facts, and do NOT, no matter what, ever tell your father about this. Do you understand?”

Arthur nods glumly. He’s tried to change his father’s mind in the past, and it got him nothing but bruised knuckles and an hour long yelled lecture and extra training hours with the knights.

Leon looks to a sniffling Merlin next, and asks him what’s wrong. Arthur holds in a worried gasp, and Morgana raises an eyebrow (even at 14, she was incredibly observant and smart, she knew what was up).

Merlin grabs Arthur’s hand, but looks up at Leon through thick eyelashes, and mumbles so quietly, Leon barely hears it:

“Promise you won’t get mad? Or hate me?”

Leon has a bad feeling that he knows where this is going, but he puts a gentle hand on Merlin’s shoulder and gives him a soft smile:

“I could never hate you Merlin, promise.”

At that, Merlin bites his lip, and glances at Arthur quickly, before looking to the fire in the hearth. Leon furrows his brow in confusion, and Morgana hides an excited smile as Merlin mumbles under his breath:

“Give me a dragon.”

Leon gasps and takes a step back as the flames flutter, as if blown by a strong wind, before morphing into a miniature dragon.

The royal sorta-siblings look on in wonder as Merlin screws his face in concentration, eyes glowing golden, and Leon stares, speechless.

After a few minutes of the dragon flying around the large fireplace, it fades back into the flames again. Morgana whispers under her breath:

“That was amazing!” and Arthur smiles proudly as Merlin takes in deep breaths. He’d never held it that long before, and it had worn him out slightly.

He looks back to Leon (who is still staring dumbly at the fire) and furrows his brows in worry:

“You did promise... you’re not scared of me are you?” He looks close to tears again, and the tremble in his voice grabs Leon’s attention once again.

The older teen gathers the three of them in a tight hug, before whispering (worried someone would hear, even though they never have before):

“Of course I’m not scared of you, Birdy (an affectionate nickname, started by Morgana, and picked up by everyone else, much to Merlin’s chagrin), you just have to promise to be careful. I promise to try my best, but if someone else finds out I probably won’t be able to protect you, Ok?”

At that he pulls back, but grips Merlin’s shoulders tightly, worry written all over his face. When Merlin only nods infinitesimally, Leon shakes him ever so slightly, and gives him a desperate look:

“OK??” Merlin nods more vigorously, and mutters out an “I understand, Leon.”

Leon lets go and sighs, looking to the floor and fiddling with his hands hidden behind his back (one of the many rules he learnt growing up as a noble: fidgeting is a sign on weakness).

He takes in a fortifying breath and moves his hands to his sides before looking out the window, noticing that it’s almost dusk and looking back to the three children with a smile:

“You best get home Merlin, it’s getting late and I don’t want your mum to worry. Same time next week, ok? Next time we see each other, I’ll be a knight.” He says it with a grin, and smiles light up on the other’s faces as well. They were young, but they knew how much this meant to Leon, especially Arthur, who was about a year into his training.

Merlin gives everyone a quick hug, lingering a little longer on Arthur (like always) before stepping back, and disappearing with a pop.

The secret is revealed when Merlin is 15 (Arthur being 16, Morgana being 17, and Leon being 22).

The four of them had agreed a next meeting time, like normal, though they were having to be far more careful. With Arthur being older, he was being saddled with more and more responsibilities. His training hours and lessons were longer, he was expected to travel away from the city more, and he shadowed The King whilst he undertook his duties for the rest of the day.

Uther had mentioned Arthur’s soulmate in passing a few times (that always incited a hidden smirk from Morgana, and a nervous gulp from Leon, if he was around).

But Arthur always managed to derail the conversation and avoid the topic by saying something along the lines of “Finding my soulmate is important to me father, but not as important as learning to be the best King I can be for the kingdom. I feel the pull everyday, but until I am steadfast in my abilities and duties, it will remain unimportant to me.”

Uther always looked partially sad at that, he had loved Arthur’s mother, his soulmate, very much. But mostly he is proud at Arthur’s confidence and determination and loyalty.

If only he realised that Arthur was lying through his teeth, and had decided when he was incredibly young that he would happily hand all of it over to Morgana, in order to lead a simpler life with Merlin.

Anyway.

The next meeting time had been agreed. But bandits had been sighted causing trouble a few hours outside of the city, and Arthur was called to attend an emergency council meeting.

The page didn’t leave his side for a second, leading him straight to the council-room, meaning that Arthur couldn’t pop away for even two seconds to warn Merlin not to come.

He just had to hope that the meeting was over quick, and he could escape somewhere solitary before the young Warlock came around.

He was so close.

He paid close attention during the meeting, making excellent suggestions and being generally helpful, in an effort to speed things along. This backfired in a way he didn’t quite expect.

The meeting ended, knights sent to deal with the problem in the manner decided, and councilman heading back to whatever it is they did when not in meetings (at this point Arthur still doesn’t know, and is too afraid to ask).

The Prince had almost made it out of the door before Uther called him back in. He halts in the doorway, and Morgana, ahead of him in the hallway, looks back, giving him a fearful look and mouthing “Give him an excuse! Hurry!”

Arthur turns back to the room (now devoid of everyone but The King and himself):

“I apologise father, but I was in the middle of-”

Uther gives him a stern look, and crooks a finger towards himself:

“Come. Here.”

Arthur schools his face, appearing blank, as he re-enters the room and shuts the door behind him. He stands to attention in front of his father, and figures this is just another part of the meeting he would have to hurry along.

He glances at the shadows on the wall quickly, he should have another few minutes, as long as Merlin didn’t get too excited and appear earlier than he’s meant to.

“I wanted to congratulate you today Arthur. You did very well-”

He places a hand on his son’s shoulder and smiles hesitantly:

“-I... I’m proud of you. You’re learning well, picking things up quickly. You understand the workings of court and council near fluently now, and Sirs Kay and Leon tell me that your combat training is going astoundingly.”

Arthur’s resolve crumbles a little at that, and he almost forgets his desperation to leave the room:

“I... thank you, father. I’m trying my best to do you and the kingdom proud.”

Uther nods firmly at that and removes his hand, stepping back, the tender moment over as quickly as it had begun:

“Good. You are dismissed for the day, go back to your studies.”

Arthur struggles to hold in a relieved sigh as he bows briefly before turning around and almost rushing towards the door. He is too late however, and just as he reaches for the doorknob, he hears the tell tale pop sound from behind him. He freezes as he hears:

“Arthur, where the hell-” quickly interrupted by his father roaring:

“WHAT SORCERY IS THIS?! GUARDS!”

Arthur rushes to turn around and grabs Merlin’s hand, pulling him to the side as guards burst through the door he was just stood in front of.

All of them raise swords at the terrified boy that Uther was pointing at, and Arthur quickly positions his body between them and Merlin:

“NO! Don’t hurt him! Please!”

Morgana rushes in just moments after the guards, and spots the boys immediately, stepping around the knights and standing next to Arthur defiantly. Uther looks affronted before yelling, red-faced:

“What is the meaning of this? Explain yourselves this instant, and get away from that beast!”

Morgana tightens her jaw as she takes Merlin’s other hand protectively in her own. She can feel him shaking, but knows he is too scared to just disappear again. She’s secretly grateful for that. If Merlin disappeared now there would be a manhunt and demands of explanations. The King might believe them if they can show him the truth (the same way the boys had shown her and Leon all those years ago).

“Please father, just listen. Merlin is my soulmate, it isn’t sorcery, we simply have a bond stronger than others-”

At Uther’s still-angry snarl, Arthur straightens his back, and takes in a breath, standing still and strong:

“You will NOT harm him. I would lay down my life before you lay a hand on him.” The guards falter a little at that, but still keep their swords raised.

Arthur hears Merlin take in a shaky breath at that, and squeezes his hand slightly. Morgana nods her agreement and Arthur gives her a brief, grateful smile as she says confidently:

“The same goes for me, if you wish to harm Merlin, or separate him from Arthur, you will have to order your guards to strike me down first.”

Uther lets out a growl at that:

“Soulmate or not, he used sorcery to appear out of thin air. That is treachery!”

Arthur huffs before shouting back:

“NO! Just ask Gaius, or Geoffrey. Occasionally, there are soulmates whose bond is stronger than normal, just ask Gaius-”

Arthur gives Uther his own growl as he continues:

“-And like I said. I would challenge you yourself, before I allowed anyone to hurt him.”

Uther slumps slightly and narrows his eyes at his son before telling one of the younger guards to fetch Gaius and Geoffrey immediately. He does however tell the other guards to keep their swords trained on the boy, and Merlin almost takes a frightened step back, only stopped by Arthur and Morgana, who hold him steady.

Arthur and Uther remain in a hard staring contest for the few minutes it takes the guard to return, Gaius and Geoffrey in tow.

Gaius glances at Merlin in surprise, but covers it quickly as he returns his gaze to The King as he growls:

“Tell me all you know of soulmate bonds.”

Geoffrey speaks first, confusion in his tone:

“My Lord?”

Uther levels a glare at him as he yells:

“NOW!”

Geoffrey is taken aback, but replies immediately:

“Well My Lord, everyone on this earth has a soulmate, someone whose soul is bound to your own. The bonds provide a compass of sorts, meaning that one can always tell what direction their soulmate is, and, with practice, roughly how far away they are. No one is certain of how these bonds come about, though centuries of research show that they aren’t harmful in anyway, and other than incredibly rare, extreme, cases, the two whose souls are bonded are a perfect match for each other; bound to fall in love-”

Gaius jumps in here:

“And in even rarer cases, My Lord, a pair may appear whose bond is so strong, they have further... abilities. This pair of souls will be able to appear to each other at will, only needing to wish to be in the other’s presence. They are also able to disappear again, but may only transport themselves to the position they were before. Academics are even more perplexed as to how these bonds are forged, though the only known pairs with such a bond have all gone on to achieve great things.”

Gaius resists the urge to look towards the three teenagers, and keeps his placating gaze on The King, who does seem to be calming slightly. Uther looks to Geoffrey for confirmation, and the librarian nods, adding:

“It is incredibly rare sire, but possible, and proven.”

Uther is considerably less angry now, but the guards don’t relax, and neither do Arthur or Morgana as The King speaks again:

“How would one prove such a bond, and differentiate it from sorcery?”

Gaius jumps to answer this question, trying to keep control of the situation:

“Well one could simply ask for a demonstration-”

He gestures to the teenagers still huddled to the side:

“-I’m assuming that these...?-”

At Uther’s stiff nod, he continues:

“-might I ask Prince Arthur to leave the room, the door shut behind him, and demonstrate his ability?” Uther looks angry for a moment, and Morgana tightens her hold on Merlin as he takes in a scared gasp. After a few moments of deliberation, The King looks to his son and gives a slight, but firm, nod.

Arthur gives Merlin a quick smile, and reluctantly lets go of his hand before saying:

“I’m only leaving him if the guards sheath their swords, and step back-”

Uther goes to interrupt him, but Arthur continues harshly:

-And THAT, is final.”

Uther gives a nod once more, and the guards cautiously put their swords away. Arthur nods at Morgana, and she takes his place directly in front of Merlin as he walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Morgana can feel Merlin shaking behind her, but she grits her teeth, and squeezes his hand. She meant what she said, she would force the guards to cut her down before she allowed them to hurt her friend.

A second later, she hears the tell tale pop, and smirks slightly at the astounded look on Uther’s face, not having to look to know that Arthur was now stood behind her.

Uther still looks slightly disbelieving, but before he can say anything (or God forbid accuse his son of sorcery) Gaius speaks up:

“I have both ancient and modern literature on the subject My Lord, if you would like to read about it.”

Uther lets out a sigh, and purses his lips before looking to the physician:

“Very well. Have them ready for me tonight. Everybody out! I wish to talk to my son and this... boy.”

Gaius throws one last glance to the three teenagers, before shuffling out the room, closely followed by Geoffrey and the guards. Morgana stays in place.

Uther looks exasperated before saying:

“That includes you, Morgana. Out-”

Morgana interrupts him angrily:

“No. I will not leave. Merlin may be Arthur’s soulmate, but he’s my friend as well. I won’t allow you to hurt him, or speak down to him.”

Uther looks enraged once again, but Arthur speaks before he can start yelling again:

“I shan’t talk about it unless Morgana is allowed to remain, father. She has been nothing but loyal and protective of Merlin, and as his soulmate, I appreciate that greatly. She stays.”

Arthur thought about demanding that Sir Leon be summoned as well, but he didn’t want to get the man into trouble, he had already done so much for them. And besides, Arthur is fairly certain that if he continues to order his Father around like this, he’ll lose his temper once more. There’s only so many demands someone can make of the King before context becomes unimportant, and it becomes a matter of pride.

Uther grits his teeth once more before nodding, and muttering out a quiet “Fine.”.

The King straightens himself, and regains his regal composure before speaking once again:

“Merlin, was it? Bring yourself forward, boy.”

Morgana goes to argue, and Arthur looks insulted, both about to retort against the tone and choice of words, but before they can say anything, Merlin pushes between them, to face Uther head on.

He gives a small bow, but maintains eye contact, and speaks once he raises again:

“Yes sire, my name is Merlin.”

Uther scowls as he looks him up and down, and Merlin can feel Arthur and Morgana fuming either side of him.

“You look like nothing but a farmer. I will not have my son and only heir, bonded to a peasant.”

Merlin goes to retort at that, indignant at having his worth as a person lowered by his class status, but before even Arthur can speak up, Morgana steps forwards angrily:

“I told you, I will not allow you to speak down to him. Merlin is a wonderful person. Kind, and compassionate, and wise beyond his years; he’s twice the man most of your so called nobles are, you will treat him with the respect he deserves, or the three of us will leave right now.”

Merlin is taken aback at that. I suppose because it’s only ever been the three of them, and Leon, he’s never really seen Morgana angry. Sure, he’s listened to her rant about the unjustness of Uther’s laws, but never anything like this. The display of somewhat aggressive protectiveness from her definitely makes him tear up a little.

Uther’s face turns red at her demand, and he looks about ready to kick off again, but Arthur steps forward, in line with Morgana (once again, leaving Merlin protected behind them):

“As she said father. Merlin is my soulmate, whether you like it or not. I will not leave him, we will not be separated, and that will never change. If you can not speak to him respectfully, then you won’t speak to either of us at all.”

Merlin takes Arthur’s shoulder and pushes himself forward again before saying quietly:

“Arthur, no, he’s your father. I don’t mind, it’s fine, maybe I should go?”

Arthur doesn’t look at him, but takes his hand wordlessly, gripping it tight as he glares at Uther (who looks slightly taken aback at the offer).

Morgana once again takes Merlin’s other hand and says:

“No. We’re resolving this now, and The King is just going to have to come to terms with the fact that someone’s status does not define their worth.” She looks pointedly at Uther at that, and the older man sighs, rubbing his eyes slightly, before gesturing to the council table:

“Fine. Arthur, Morgana, Merlin, take a seat, and we shall discuss how we plan to move forward.”

END OF PART 1

Part 2 is up! Part 3 is up!

Let me know what y’all think :)

#merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #merthur soulmate au #uther #uther being a dick #morgana #good morgana #bamf merlin #arthur #prince arthur #arthur pendragon #uther pendragon #leon #sir leon #gaius #geoffrey

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scandalsavagefanfic · 3 years

Note

Hello! I am a huge fan of ur writing. I've loved everything I've read of yours. I've read alot of what you've posted, except for a couple of the tags that are squicky for me (so I'm very thankful you tag very thoroughly). No judgement for the squick, it's just not for me. & when I'm having a bad day, I usually just go thru ur ao3 and find something to reread. I think about Therapy's Bruce & Jason every damn day. While I obvs appreciate ur darker more "problematic" content (I really vibe with some of the themes you write about bc of my own trauma, & so it's very cathartic to read about in a fictional setting), I am truly a sucker for ur more happy content. The Happily Ever After verse also lives in my head rent free. Idk more wholesome stuff just seems more special when you write it. Anyways. I would die for you. But the point of this ask is cause I'm curious as to why you don't like Urban Legends? I'm sorry if you already talked about it here or on twitter and I missed it. I was just wondering because I really enjoy your take on things and would love to hear why you dislike it. I've been enjoying it so far personally, but I am always open to DC comics criticism.

Aw thank you so much! I'm so flattered by everything you just said. You're so sweet ❤❤❤❤❤

I haven't talked about Urban Legends here or twitter (I haven't been very active in either place lately. Just a lot going on and no energy 😔) but I'm happy to do it here.

Before I start though, I just want to add a standard disclaimer and make it clear that if you like it, there's nothing wrong with that and you don't have to let me ruin it for you lol. Like what you like.

That said, since you asked...

I said this when I was talking about it on discord, that there is a difference between hope and expectation. I always hope that a new story centered on Jason (or anyone really, but things have been especially egregious for Jay for 15 years) will be good or at least treat the character with a minimal level of respect (to be honest, the bar is super fucking low). But my expectations always temper my hope, to keep it from getting unrealistic. Because my expectations are based on experience.

The long history of Jason Todd, since even before his resurrection, has been one of retroactively trying to make him "a bad seed" in order to absolve Bruce of any responsibility in his death.

I don't even expect DC or their writers to start honoring the fact that Jason was not an angry, reckless Robin (and less of the later than Dick or Tim and definitely Damian). There plenty of ways that retcon can be folded into his history and be compelling and sympathetic. And if they're going to stick with that retcon, I'm only asking that they do it in one of those compelling and sympathetic ways because Jason was 15 when he died, heroically, in one of the most selfless acts in comics, to save a woman who literally handed him over to be brutally murdered. He was 12 when Bruce plucked him off the streets, he'd been homeless and fending for himself for at least two years. I personally think that Jason's story hits harder for him and Bruce if their original, canon relationship, of Jason as starry-eyed and eager to learn and absolutely devoted to Bruce and Bruce to Jason, is preserved. But Jason's origins does leave room for a meaningful interpretation of him as angry and frustrated at the lack of meaningful results of Bruce's methods.

And that's really where my irritation at stories like Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer and Batman The Adventure Continues has it's roots.

Every time one of these stories comes out, I think (or hope, rather) that this will be the one that remembers and respects the origins of the Jason and the Red Hood, that takes into account the changed sensibilities of comics readers in the 30 years since Jason's death and the subtle, 20 year, retroactive campaign to make him the "bad Robin". The "born bad" trope is played out and literally no one likes the message it implies. That some kids are just bad eggs and there's nothing parents or the adults around them can do. Especially when it's played as the kid's fault. If Jason's time as Robin is going to be characterized by anger, then it should be rooted in anger at the social injustices he witnessed as he grew up in an impoverished, crime-ridden, area and the horrors he faced raising himself when every day was a battle for survival. There are topical, meaningful, stories to tell with that backdrop.

But those are never the stories we get.

⚠⚠ Spoilers for Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer ⚠⚠

I'm particularly disappointed in Urban Legends because for the first issue, it looked like that was the kind of story we were going to get. I was put off by the first flashback of Jason being mesmerized by Bruce's guns, and I got that feeling in my gut that it was a bad sign. Jason depicted as impatient and overconfident and the scene with the guns is heavy-handed foreshadowing that got my spidey-sense tingling. I had a inkling then (in the first three pages) of how this story was going to play out, but it was early and I could still see many narrative paths that could lead to a satisfying story. My concerns were soothed somewhat and the little flame of my hope fanned, with the flashback of Alfred scolding Bruce, with Barbara's concern for Jason. A bit of worry returned with the way Jason ruthlessly pursued an addict who didn't appear to be a dealer and with the ending of the issue. The stuff with the addict sat wrong with me but the ending was tempered some by how despicable Tyler's dad was written. The scene was clearly set so that the reader could sympathize with Jason's decision and the scene with the addict could be brushed aside as a side-effect of comics over-the-top need for constant action, so I still held hope.

Issue 2 made me uncomfortable and it's where my hope starts to take a backseat to my expectations. I can dismiss Jason's self-deprecating internal monologue as unreliable narration, except that the flashback reinforces his thought process to explicitly show that it's not unreliable narration, and should be taken at face value. Jason faces physical abuse at the hands of his mother's drug dealer and when the flashback continues later, Jason kills the drug dealer. To be clear, this is a pre-Bruce Jason. His mom is still alive. He's like... 10. He kills this guy for shoving his head into a wall and implying Jason's mother paid for her drugs with sex. This is a scene that serves a single purpose. To show that Jason has always been prone to violence.

In the spirit of full disclosure, there is the small chance the drug dealer might not be dead. But the story obviously wants the reader to think he is, and it hasn't done anything to change that yet.

Starlin already did this story with The Diplomat’s Son in 1988 and he did it infinitely better. AND that’s still technically canon. So now I’m supposed to believe that Jason lost his cool bad enough to kill two douche bags before his sweet 16? Like it’s totally normal for abused kids raised in poverty, who’ve led hard and heartbreaking lives to just... haul off and kill people? That’s bullshit, and when taken with the Jason in the third issue, who is little more than an idiot thug, this story is really doubling down on some fucked up stereotypes.

Which brings us to the most recent issue. I went into this installment with very low expectations. I thought this story was going to be about Jason, through this experience with Tyler, a young boy with a similar background to Jason's, coming to the realization that Bruce's way is the best way and that Bruce did his best by Jason.

That would be annoying (in no small part because it takes increasingly absurd levels of plot armor to keep Bruce's no kill rule relevant, let alone irrefutably right). But I can probably live with that, if only because maybe if Jason officially falls back into line with the Bats crusade, maybe I'll get stories that treat him with respect, stories that don't relegate him to comic relief, dumb brute, or a background body with no lines in a story about the Joker burning Gotham (like Jason would just fucking stand there quietly for that).

And that may still be where the story is going, Jason realizing Bruce is right.

But holy shit do I not have the right words to describe how fucking insulting and gross issue three is.

From start to finish--including the flashback--Jason is written as cruel and fucking stupid. Like straight up dumb.

The entire issue is Bruce explaining the fucking basics to Jason like it's his first day. And Jason flies off the fucking handle and terrorizes a doctor he knows isn't a part of making the Cheerdrops, beats the shit out of some random addicts, and finally, when he can't accomplish anything on his own because he's a dumb brute he calls Barbara for help and rushes in with no information where he's promptly incapacitated and must now wait to be rescued by Batman.

This panel is the least of the issues sins but I can’t screenshot the entire story but it’s representative of the tone for the whole issue (and retroactively tainted the prior two issues).

This is beyond insulting. The only conclusions Jason comes to in this issue are the ones Bruce leads him to by talking to him like he can’t make the simplest connections. And like... in this story Jason can’t make the simplest connections.

This (and the Jason throughout the entirety of this issue) is a far cry from the Jason we fell in love with in Under the Red Hood, who was competent and strategic and intelligent enough to seize control of Gotham’s underworld from Black Mask (who’s no fucking slouch, he’s the first and only person to unify organized crime in Gotham) AND elude and manipulate Bruce until the time and place of his choosing.

This is a far cry from even the Red Hood and the Outlaws Jason who is competent enough to fight the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul (among very dangerous and skilled others) and smart enough to create antidotes for mind control nanotech viruses.

As he should be, by the way. Jason Todd is one of the best, most comprehensively trained fighters in DC’s stable of non powered vigilantes. He’s not irrational or hot headed. He’s pragmatic, tactically minded, and patient. He’s a detective. Right now. Has been since he was 12. Bruce doesn’t have to make him one because he already is.

Jason is not a stupid thug who uses his fists because his brain doesn’t work. And I can’t tell you how so very exhausted I am by this narrative.

This is actually the most egregious example of Jason’s skills and intelligence being not just undermined but dismissed entirely. Even Morrison’s Jason had some degree of competency.

The one, single redeeming factor of this story is the art. It’s beautiful. And Marcus To is a godsend he seems to be one of only a couple of artists who remember that Jason was a child when he was Robin and I’m literally only buying this book because of him.

Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to come out so... um... passionately lol. I’m just very very tired. My intention with this isn’t to ruin it for you, if you like it, that’s fine.

But this issue shot this story to the top of my "Vehemently Despise” list. 1) Batman: Urban Legends (Cheer), 2) Battle for the Cowl/Morrison’s Batman and Robin, 3) Batman The Adventure Continues.

I hope the next issues somehow salvage this dumpster fire. But I’m not expecting it.

(Damnit. That sounded harsh again. To reiterate, I’m not trying to judge anyone who enjoys it, I just personally hate it and you asked me why lol 😅)

#Batman #red hood #batman: urban legends #nice art #shit story #or at least shit characterization #jason todd deserves better #this response got long and I didn't edit it #please forgive any errors #and/or unclear spots #spoilers

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chillafqueen · 3 years

Text

This started off as a rant piece but then turned into an essay about my feelings about the show so definite Sex Education Season 3 spoilers under the cut

Literally do not try to argue with me I do not care

Tagging this only as sex education spoilers and sex education season 3 spoilers so hopefully it only shows up in those tags for people filtering it because I don't really care to make this a discussion I just needed to get this out my head

We seem to be in this golden age of media where we no longer care about character development or story development.

only ships and ships only, if your ship breaks up or it doesn't happen it's queer baiting or it's straight baiting or it's misogynistic or it's shitty writing

And I'm aiming this mostly at the Sex Education fandom just because I've seen /some/ people claiming it as such.

Ruby and Otis were cute together trust me I loved it. But it's not bad writing for them to break up it's not objectifying as a ship point to further along Otis and Mauve

Or the same goes from Adam and Eric

It's a show about high school. Even if it's a show, realistically these people won't stay together forever

It's take realistic routes for these characters

And we need to think critically about it

Ruby and Otis might just be a stepping stone towards endgame Otis x Mauve but it's not wasting Ruby or bad writing

It's sad to see, I really loved Ruby's development and her dynamic with Otis was adorable and I loved watching them grow

Ruby grew from this relationship. Did you really think the first person she trusted and loved was gonna be the person she married? No that's unrealistic and truly bad writing

These relationship, their highs and their lows and their break ups are there for each character's development

Sure Ruby got her heart broken but she also learned and hopefully she grows from it

She started off a rude, selfish bitch obsessed with status, image and popularity

Then she opens up and allows herself to be vulnerable

She shows Otis her house her family and that her real life isn't as glamorous as she puts on it's scary and she thinks that he will judge her and leave but he doesn't

He treats her with the same amount of respect that he had before he knew these personal parts of her

And sure now that she got hurt she could regress, she might think that she was right all along that once she shows her inner self to someone they'll hurt her just like Otis did or she grows from it and realizes that what she thinks the unattractive parts of herself aren't as bad as she thought and she'll learn and grow to be nicer and less judgemental and less distrustful and she'll meet more people and learn that looks and popularity aren't everything and one day she will find someone who loves her just as much as she loves them

Otis didn't love her, he had strong feelings for her but he wasn't on the same page as Ruby and even though he said those feelings could develop with time and that there's no guarantee that his feelings won't grow into love, Ruby had every right to set boundaries and end the relationship. She has every right to expect her partner be on the same page as her. And also she's a teenager she can end a relationship with her high school boyfriend because he doesn't love her back. If she wants to wait and continue the relationship hoping Otis would eventually reciprocate her love, then she could. But she was hurt and felt dejected and she decided to cut her losses rather waste her time if Otis couldn't love her back. She had every right to do so. It's not bad writing. She's not the type to hopelessly pine after someone who doesn't love her back. She is a bad bitch who moves on and does better.

And while Otis doesn't really gain much from the relationship except that he hurt Ruby he still continues to develop as a character

And there's a message there that it's hard to love someone when you never got closure from your past love

His relationship with Ola failed because of his unresolved feelings with Maeve and then his next relationship with Ruby also fails because he can't love her because of his unresolved feelings and lack of closure with Maeve and he also learns that

But also it's okay to not feel the same way about someone. And Jakob was right when he assured Otis that it was right to be honest with Ruby. Even if he hurt her, it was best to be honest and hurt her than lie to her and lead her on with a lie. It wouldn't be good for Otis and it wouldn't be good for Ruby if Otis just lied saying he loved her back.

And even if Ruby was just a plot device for potentially endgame Otis and Maeve then big deal.

It's kinda obvious that Maeve and Otis are the main goal and target relationship of the show.

And it's a common trope with them in the show that they are never in the same place at the right time.

Otis has feelings for Maeve but she's with Jackson. He tries to move on and dates Ola. And when he's no longer available it's when Maeve realizes her feelings for Otis and it's shown that Otis still very obviously has feelings for her even while in a relationship with Ola and it effects the relationship until it falls apart when Ola finds out that not only does Otis has feelings for Maeve but he holds Maeve in higher regards than her.

So the relationship ends

So does that mean Maeve and Otis will be together now that Ola and Otis are.over? No because neither of them are on the same page.

And so they miss the opportunity. Then they fight and their friendship is over

Then Isaac deletes the voicemail of Otis confessing and apologizing to Maeve and asking for them to try again

So Maeve misses that opportunity because she doesn't even know. And Otis doesn't know that she never heard the voicemail and thinks she's rejecting him so he tries to get over her.

And when he moves on, Maeve takes that as him saying their friendship and whatever she thought could happen was over. He was with Ruby, so obviously he didn't have feelings for Maeve

And then Ruby and Otis break up and Maeve and Otis talk and finally are on the same page and kiss

But oops, Maeve has feelings for Isaac and things seem to be going well so she's not going to ruin that for a chance with Otis

Then Isaac finds out that Maeve and Otis kissed and ends things.

So now Maeve and Otis can be together right? Otis is single and so is Maeve and feelings are out there. Well things look good until Maeve can't miss the chance to take that exchange program to study in America.

But they're technically together??? Maybe they can be long distance? Maybe they will wait for each other?

Their entire theme is not ever being at the same place at the same time. Something always comes up. One of them is always in a relationship when the other isn't. Or something comes up where they aren't available or now, Maeve is going to another country for a few months, just as things were going to happen.

Why does it have to be that way? Why can't your favorite ship be endgame just because you like it? Because it's not your show. You didn't produce it or write it. You are not entitled to have the show cater to your every want. These writers have a specific vision in mind and they may or may not already have a set ending in place. The moment they presented their idea to a network they might've already had their endgame ship set in stone.

It's not bad writing if your ship isn't endgame. It isn't objectification if a character was written in a way just to further the plot in a certain way. That's how stories work.

That being said, Eric and Adam was the same way.

They both grew because of their relationship and they learned.

Was it shitty of Eric to cheat on Adam and not tell him right away? Sure, yes.

But he learned that even if he loved Adam and was content in their relationship, it was caging him. He is a different person from Adam. He had his own dreams, likes, boundaries and such. And as does Adam. But those differences can hold each other back and hurt each other.

Eric is comfortable with his sexuality. He is gay and proud and he happens to have a lot of stereotypical gay hobbies and interests. He likes camp, he likes drag, he likes makeup and he is comfortable with his sexuality and doesn't care what others think and so he wants to be all these things out there in the world.

Adam doesn't. Adam is in his first gay relationship after slowly coming to terms with his sexuality. He's not out there like Eric. His mom doesn't know about them and he's scared of telling her, and he especially doesn't want his dad to know.

He was raised the same way his father was, which we find out this season. He gets taught toxic masculinity. He is taught any weakness is feminine and weak and bad. Being vulnerable is bad, expressing soft emotion is bad. And that cultivates into anger and violence.

He is emotionally stunted because of it. And he is slowly unlearning it.

He slowly comes to terms with his sexuality, and he slowly learns to be emotional and vulnerable. And Eric helps a lot with it. Eric is patient and encouraging.

But Adam is still a different person than Eric. He is shy, he is slowly becoming more out every day, he's learning to express himself through meaningful ways, but it's in ways different than how Eric does.

He likes makeup and dancing but maybe he's not ready to go out in the world doing that. Or he is just a private person and no matter how comfortable he gets with himself he may never want to go out to a gay club and dance and wear makeup

But Eric does.

Eric wants to go out he wants to be gay and free and open. That's his personality and he's had a longer time accepting himself and learning not to be afraid of public perception because he knows there's people out there like him. But Adam isn't.

And Eric has every right to break up with Adam because he is young and he doesn't have to stay grounded. He has yet to experience everything he wants and has yet to really know himself. But being with Adam halts that because Adam isn't like him.

Eric is learning to experience life and fly free and he's not afraid of going out there and living life to the fullest. In a way Adam doesn't.

And that's okay. That's real life.

People grow at different rates and in different directions. Let them grow even if it's away from you.

And by the end Adam is hurt but he is a different person because of Eric and for the better.

He is learning to be himself. He is learning how to express himself, to reach out for help, to be open with others. And that's a lot of progress.

He is hurt, his first love, his first gay love broke his heart. But he is stronger than before.

And Eric is free to continue spreading his wings not afraid of being held down by someone not in the same place as him.

And that's what the show is really about.

It's about these teenagers growing and learning and becoming better people. They will change and they will develop into new forms of themselves with each new relationship and challenge.

Love isn't the ultimate goal. It's being yourself and doing what is best for yourself.

Ruby and Otis were really cute together. I really did root for them and I really loved watching Ruby slowly change for the better. And I hope she continues to.

And I really loved Adam and Eric together but Eric cheated and he realized while it was wrong it made him realize that his relationship with Adam is stunting his growth.

You meet people and they may hurt you or you may hurt them but that's how life goes. And hopefully you impacted each relationship in a meaningful way even if it's not the way you intended. That you learn a lesson or you are the lesson.

It's truly brilliant writing. It's realistic, it's diverse, it's open and fresh, but witty and sometimes cheap but Jesus Christ it's not about you and your ship. You are here to watch the story unfold. And maybe get inspired or just be entertained.

When the story takes a turn you don't like it's not always bad writing.

It's only bad writing when it makes no sense, cut corners, is inherently offensive with no meaning to it, or completely does a 180 on all the character progress or other examples.

Hopefully the story ends with meaning. Maybe Otis and Maeve are endgame. Maybe they breakup and meet later in life. Or maybe Otis reconnects with Ruby. Or he meets someone new entirely.

Or maybe he ends the show single and just as involved in his career as his father was or whatnot.

And maybe Maeve also gets so involved with just making it in life that she has no room for a relationship. Or she meets someone new or reconnects with Isaac.

I love that even though the story points to Otis and Maeve endgame it's not the only story or romance explored.

We see Aimee is still struggling with her assault but she's willing to get help and that she learns to stand up for herself and do what makes her happy even if it may upset others, like breaking up with Steve even though he has been nothing be supportive.

I really enjoyed Cal and their introduction. And I enjoyed seeing Jackson be more and more open to trying and learning new things. He is just wanting to find himself and feel fulfilled. And I loved seeing Cal set boundaries with their identity and Jackson.

If Jackson can't accept that Cal isn't a girl and so that means if they were together it would indeed be a queer relationship and that would make Jackson not straight. And Jackson trying to bargain and negotiate while Cal stood firm was insightful.

Because I too, like Jackson, even if subconscious, still perceived Cal as a girl in some way even if I completely understand their identity and will help accommodate it in anyway. And it's just about unlearning the norms I was raised with. Even if I accept and understand, there is always room for more learning. But another thing with Cal, it's not their responsibility to fight.

If they don't want to lead the fight for gender rights and equality then they don't have to.

If you can't accept or won't listen, it's not their responsibility to make you change your ways but they will not respect you and they will not come quietly.

It is not every non-binary, trans, gay, bi, pan, ace, lesbian or anyone who isn't like you, person's responsibility to teach you or answer your questions or change your perception

And that was quite refreshing to see and I really admired seeing that in this show

And also showing that each non-binary person is different. Layla isn't willing to even challenge the system. Because they are scared and from what we see in the last episode, they aren't out to their family. They aren't ready and aren't comfortable trying to fight and that is their right.

And then seeing Cal teach Layla how to bind properly is a good lesson to anyone watching the show that might be binding incorrectly.

And then I also really enjoyed seeing Vivienne and her long distance boyfriend Eugene.

I was happy to see that her jealousy of Cal wasn't because she saw Cal as a romantic rival but friendship rival. Jackson and Vivienne were drifting apart due to their opposing views on Hope and that Viv took Jackson's place as Head girl.

And also seeing Vivienne's boyfriend be some hot, refined man was satisfying to see.

I also loved seeing Maeve learn to accept help and kindness. I was so scared that he and Aimee would never make up but they did and it was the most beautiful thing to see because they are the best friend goals to ever bless the tv world.

And I loved that Isaac wasn't depicted as just some poor helpless paraplegic but he had character and he had talent and he was never seen less than. He was a witty asshole!

And he even got the girl for a while! And he has standards!

I mean sure I don't feel that bad about his feelings getting hurt by Maeve because he took it upon himself to make a decision for Maeve and manipulating the situation for his own selfish crush on Maeve. I mean you didn't let her make the choice. You deleted the voicemail and so she thought Otis still hated her and refused to apologize. Sure she ended up getting feelings for you but because you intervened and lied she never got the chance to truly get closure with Otis because you knew that if she heard the message she'd go to him

Sure you didn't deserve her kissing Otis when you two obviously had something going on but... What did you expect?

And my last thoughts are Jakob and Jean. I liked them together in the beginning but it became apparent that they are two very different people. They just don't fit.

At first I couldn't understand Jakob's distrust of Jean, I mean she messed up once while drunk with her ex husband. It was wrong but I thought it was a tiny little forgiveable thing (and maybe I think that because I'm biased by my love of Jean). But once we get that soft moment of Jakob opening up to the therapist and we find out that his last relationship, with his wife, also had trust betrayed. Her having an affair and then getting sick afterwards so therefore Jakob felt he couldn't leave her when she was so ill.

And I thought Jean and Jakob trying to force a family relationship was not the best route. They had made it clear before that they are just two different people. You can coparent without being in a relationship.

But even through it all they still cared deeply for each other. So yeah.

But my only true criticm of the show is the paternity test results. Now sure we don't know what they say BUT Jean's reaction screams that Jakob isn't the father. Which just disappoints me. Jean has been through so much.

And who else would be the father? We weren't shown any other potential baby daddies.

Also she's been through so much just give her one thing.

Like I like to hope that next season she tells Jakob and even though he's not the dad, he's been there and he was making that baby a goddamn tree house that he steps up and raises that baby like it is his because that baby deserves a father.

But I can only see that Jean will probably hide the truth and they start out quite happy until the results are discovered and Jakob finds out and he is rightfully upset and angry and betrayed and he leaves her and the baby. Or real baby daddy comes to try to be there and makes more drama.

Idk

And just because it's how the show goes Maeve and Otis are gonna have something come up and it gets in the way of them being together.

I hope Michael and Adam make some peace as part of both of their developments. Of course I do see Michael having issue with Adam's lack of traditional success and his sexuality but I hope they work it out or at least try next season.

And I hope that Rahim and Adam don't become a thing. They are similar in their introversion and lack of flamboyancy with their sexuality but I hope they bond and become friends but I don't think it's be in good taste for them to date. It's like recycling your gays.

I'm not really sure what's in store for the school. I think maybe someone swoops in last second or they all go to different schools and have to move away and they all lose touch and it's a big component of next year.

And I'm not sure about Eric and what path he takes. Maybe he starts going out to gay spaces and meets someone or just messes around to have fun. But to be honest I'm not sure.

Anyways yeah.

#sex education spoilers #sex education season 3 spoilers #sex education season 3

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Note

If you're taking requests, how about: Killian Jones is known as radio 1s love doctor. Most of his calls are pretty lame, like the guy that called in when his girlfriend ghosted him for kissing too loudly, or the girl that saw her boyfriend snogging another girl at a rugby game. But things get interesting when he receives a call from a woman named Emma, who's got a crush on one of her new neighbors. She doesn't even know his name, much less how to talk to him...

I am 100% sure this “nonnie” is actually @wellhellotragic so she’ll have to forgive me that this isn’t angsty for her. It was going to start that way. It really was. But then I remembered that it’s @resident-of-storybrooke‘s birthday tomorrow, so the plot shifted when I realized I wouldn’t get the CMIYC prompt I wanted out for her. So hopefully angsty and baseball related things will be coming soon!

Happy (early) birthday, Tori! I’m giving you this a little early since I’m not entirely sure I’ll have internet tomorrow (thanks, storms)! Enjoy your day! This is obviously how to get the party started 🎉

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

“So, what do you think I should do?”

Killian twists in his chair and looks to Ariel on the other side of the glass. She shrugs and taps the imaginary watch on her wrist.

“Well, Ashely,” he sighs as he looks down at the notes he’s been taking, “I think the first step is telling your truth. It’s not going to be easy, especially with the situation you’re in, but you’re going to drive yourself crazy thinking of the possibilities of how things could change instead of actually changing them.”

“That’s kind of terrifying. What if – what if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Killian leans back in his chair and adjusts his headset. “This is the father of your child, aye?”

“Yeah.”

“And you two were together at some point, correct?”

“When I was pregnant, but that was five years ago now.”

“And in the five years since you’ve had your child, you two have grown closer because you share this child. Nothing about it has been romantic or fueled by the desire to advance things sexually, and I think unlike when you first got together, you know each other now. There’s a genuine connection outside of your daughter and outside of a physical relationship. To me, it sounds like it’s worth starting a conversation, but you also have to realize this man is going to be in your life for the rest of your life because of your child. You have to be prepared for it to not go well and to still be able to put your daughter first.”

“Wow, way to sell the romance,” Ariel whispers in his headset.

He turns to her and flicks up his fingers. He’s not about selling unrealistic romance.

“Look, Ashely,” Killian starts again, “I understand that you’re scared, but I can tell that you’re strong. If anyone can have this conversation, it’s you.”

There’s a sniffle on the other end of the line. “Okay, okay. I’ll try. Thank you so much.”

“Think nothing of it, darling. Thank you for your call.”

“And commercial,” Ariel says again before he hears the sound of a local dry cleaner’s commercial coming on. God, he hates this one.

“I am not about unrealistic romance, and you know it,” he says to Ariel now that he can speak to her.

“Your nickname is the Love Doctor.”

“Which I did not pick. The network did that.”

“Because you give relationship advice for several hours a night.”

“Which was completely by accident and totally your fault for having us talk about you and Eric on air.”

She shrugs again, and Killian turns away to take a sip of his water. He’s got a lingering hangover from yesterday still, and he really should not have had that much rum. But he needed it, if he’s honest with himself, and it helped him get through the night much easier than anything else would have. The anniversary of Milah’s death is never easy, but at least this year he was able to get up the next day with only a nasty hangover.

“So our next caller is a kid.”

Killian almost chokes on his water. “It’s nearly midnight.”

“I know. I think he’s risking getting grounded to talk to you.”

“I don’t know how to give relationship advice to a kid. I feel like that’s entirely unethical. What do I – ”

“Oh, the commercial break is over,” Ariel tells him, holding up her fingers and counting down.

Three. Two. One.

“Good evening, this is Killian Jones at Radio 105. How can I help you tonight?”

“Um, hi. I’m Henry.”

Well, this is definitely a kid calling him. This might be a first for him, and he’s been on the receiving end of some interesting calls for the last six years.

“Hello, Henry. How can I help you tonight?”

There’s a cough on the other end of the line, and Killian thinks the call is about to be disconnected until the kid starts speaking again.

“My mom doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

Bloody hell. The kid is calling about his mum. Killian at least thought it was maybe going to be something regarding a dance at school or his first crush or anything that Killian could easily answer.

Then again, how was any question a kid was going to ask him ever going to be easy? He has exactly zero experience with children.

Well, no, he is pretty good with Roland. That counts for something.

“Well, lad, I think quite a few mums don’t have boyfriends. Are you looking for her to have one?”

“Yeah. I mean, look, I have a dad, but he and my mom have never been together. I don’t think they’re ever going to get together like that Ashely lady you just helped. My dad has a girlfriend, and I really feel like my mom would be happier if she had someone, too.”

“That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Ariel says.

He holds up his fingers at her again.

“Henry, that’s very kind of you to be so concerned about your mum. I can tell she’s raised a good kid in you, but I think this might be a situation where you have to let adults be adults. Maybe your mum is happy with it only being the two of you. She might not want a boyfriend.”

Henry sighs, and Killian already knows he’s told the kid the exact opposite of what he wanted to hear. Shit.

“She does want one. I heard her talking about this guy she likes to my aunt. He lives in our building.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve never seen him. I think he works at night like she does, but I know she said that he was cute.”

Killian chuckles and runs his hand over his scruff. This kid has got such good intentions, and really, Killian doesn’t want to let him down.

Maybe his hangover is screwing with his mind a little too much.

“Alright, Henry, I want you to listen really closely, aye?”

“Okay.”

“Your mum, if she likes this man, is going to have to tell him. Now, she might have already, but she could be keeping it quiet for a little while until she knows that he’s more than cute. But she also might not talk to him, and that’s a very real possibility. So, I think for you, Henry, the best thing to do is know that your mum doesn’t have to have a boyfriend to be happy. She’s got you in her life, and it sounds like you’re already her best man.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” he asks, defeated.

“Keep being a good kid. Do your homework, pick up your bedroom, eat your vegetables, keep making your mum smile. I can guarantee you’ll make her happy doing those things.”

“How do you know? Do you have kids?”

Killian chuckles and looks over to Ariel who has got the biggest grin on her face. “I don’t, but I have a friend with a son, and he loves when his son cleans up and behaves well.”

“Yeah, my mom is happy when I clean up, too.”

“Exactly,” Killian sighs. “Now, I think it might be time for you to go to bed. I don’t want you to get in trouble with your mum.”

“I’m at my dad’s. She doesn’t know I’m on the phone.”

“She’s a mother. She has her ways of knowing all.”

“Oh crap,” Henry gulps. “I’ve got to go. Bye.”

And then the phone line goes dead. “Well, that was certainly one of my favorite calls,” Killian says into the microphone with a slight chuckle, “now here’s the new James Taylor. Enjoy. I’ll be back for more calls soon.”

-/-

The thing about working at night is that when Killian goes places, they’re mostly empty. The gym has only a few night owls spread out across the machines, the roads are barren, grocery stores are ghost towns except for teenagers wandering around and a few people in their pajamas picking up medicine or other emergency supplies.

But then there’s him getting eggs and milk and having the entire frozen foods aisle to himself.

Well, almost.

There’s a woman standing a few feet down from him staring intently at the section of ice cream. She’s got long, blonde hair that’s curled and falls down her back, and the dress she’s wearing is sinful. It’s short and red, hugging every single curve of her body, and while he would expect her to have heels on, she doesn’t. Instead she’s wearing a well-loved pair of trainers, shoelaces tucked in instead of tied, and whoever she was wearing heels for is long gone.

If the ice cream perusal and last-minute change of shoes are any indication.

He wants to ask if she’s alright, but he knows that’s the lack of sleep talking and the fact that he’s spent the last few hours giving advice on the radio and listening to nearly every love song in existence. Killian isn’t an idiot, however, and he knows better than to approach a woman in the middle of the night. He’ll look like a stalker or someone trying to hurt her, and that’s not something he ever wants to do.

Being a gentleman and all that.

But then she turns, and he recognizes her.

She lives in his apartment complex, and God help him, he’s stared at her as she walks across the lobby who knows how many times. They obviously run in the same kind of circles, but he must have been missing her lately. It’s been weeks since he’s caught a glance at her, and that’s probably for the best. Nothing good can come of him admiring a woman he doesn’t know.

Nothing good can come of him admiring a woman for more than one night.

Killian quickly grabs a frozen pizza and a few healthier options even if he doesn’t think frozen meals can ever truly be healthy, and takes his basket to the front of the store where he’s checked out by the same older woman that rings him up every time he comes in here. She wears a different name tag each time, and she never corrects him when he calls her by the name. Today she’s Barbara, and she grunts her usual pleasantries before handing him back his bags.

He makes a last-minute decision to get a soda from the vending machine outside. He won’t drink it now, but it’ll be nice to tide him over between cups of coffee tomorrow. The machine eats his first dollar but accepts the second, and by the time he has a Diet Coke in his hand, his neighbor is also outside the store and heading back toward the parking lot as he does the same.

They pull out at the same time, but she gets on the road first. There are no other drivers out and about, and while Killian usually listens to something, his brain is too tired to listen to another song or a podcast or his follow-up host who is always far too chipper for such an awful time slot. The woman’s yellow bug pulls into a street parking spot, and he takes the one behind her, getting out with his groceries and his bag from work before walking toward the front entrance and hitting in the code. Only after he gets inside does the woman bother to get out and follow him inside.

Maybe she doesn’t recognize him in the way that he recognizes her.

“You dropped your gum.”

Killian stops and turns around at the sound of her voice.

“What?”

“Your gum.” She holds up a small container of his preferred-flavor. “It fell out of your bag onto the sidewalk outside.”

Killian looks down in his bag, sees that the gum is missing, and then steps forward to take it out of her hand. “Thank you, love. I appreciate that. Did you decide on a flavor of ice cream?”

Her eyes widen, and he can now see how unbelievably green they are. But he can also see the purple bags underneath them and the redness from an obvious lack of sleep.

What the hell is wrong with him? Why is he still analyzing her when he has now informed her that he was bloody staring at her in the store?

He very obviously needs to go to bed.

“Rocky Road.”

“Ah, I’m more of a fruit flavored ice cream man myself, but rocky road is a great choice.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Silence falls between them, and Killian thinks now is the time for both of them to turn their separate ways and never speak again. Tonight is simply two ships passing in the night, and they’ll rarely cross paths this closely again.

Unless…

“Killian Jones, 407.”

Her lips press into a straight line. “Emma Swan.”

He doesn’t fail to notice she doesn’t give her apartment number, but really, no sane person should be giving that out to a near stranger. He is apparently no longer sane. “Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Swan. I’ll let you go so your ice cream doesn’t melt.”

“It was nice to meet you, too. I hope you enjoy the, uh, gum.”

Killian bites his tongue to keep from chuckling. “Goodnight, love.”

-/-

Ariel sends him a link.

It’s to a Buzzfeed article about a kid calling into a radio show and telling the host that his mom has a crush on her neighbor and he wants to help her find a boyfriend. There are a Sleepless in Seattle gifs and references all throughout the article, and when Killian keeps scrolling, he sees tweets about the show and about Henry calling in.

Killian doesn’t use his own Twitter. He lets Ariel do it, so it takes him a few minutes to log in and get adjusted to the format that’s different than the last time he used it.

And to the fact that he’s got more notifications and followers than he’s ever had.

Is this all because of that one call?

He knows his program is popular, but it’s mostly popular in the greater Portland area with a few other cities picking it up. He’s got a podcast on Spotify that he does every week, and he knows that he works to get more listeners. This is a job he accidentally got into after working at a station at university, and he still thinks it can all be a load of shit, but a man’s got to make a living.

But this? Going viral over a call with a kid?

This was unexpected.

He immediately calls Ariel.

“Isn’t it awesome?” she screeches into the phone before he can even say hello. “Your social media following has gone up by 80%, and that’s just been in the five hours since that article was posted. Oh my gosh, we’re going to have to follow back up with this. Maybe we can get Henry back on the phone, and maybe we can somehow talk to the mom and have her talk to her neighbor. People would lose their minds.”

“A, I think you’re losing your mind. Calm down.”

“When in the history of telling me to calm down have I ever calmed down?”

Killian sighs and rolls over on his bed. “We cannot exploit this woman’s feelings for more ratings. I’m not doing that.”

“What do you mean? We do things like that all the time.”

“We do not think up segments and try to force someone to talk to their neighbor who they have feelings for. People call in for advice, for who knows what reason, and it’s their choice to take it or not. I do not force it on anyone.”

Ariel grumbles something unintelligible on the other end of the line. “I hate when you get all moral on me.”

“I like to think I’m always moral.”

“I’ve known you for ten years, Jones. I know that’s not true.”

His eyes shut and he runs his hand over his face, trying to rub away all of the memories that are trying to come back. He has no idea what time it is, but he knows that it’s too bloody early for all of that.

“Look, the kid’s mom doesn’t know we called. He’s going to get grounded for weeks if we call back. I want to do it off-air, approve it ahead of time, and if the lass says no, that’s it. We can still talk about it on-air, but we’re not going to invade her privacy.”

“As your producer, I think you’re missing an opportunity. As your friend, I think you’re doing the right thing.”

“And that’s the balance we always seem to strike.

-/-

No one answers when Ariel calls.

She is crushed.

He is relieved.

Every caller that night mentions his call with Henry.

Ariel says it’s the highest numbers they’ve had in years.

-/-

She’s at the grocery store again.

She’s looking at ice cream once more while he picks out another frozen pizza. He’s desperately got to get back into cooking actual meals again.

It’s been two weeks since he last saw her, and yet again, she’s in a tight dress, her hair and makeup perfectly done, but her feet are clothed in trainers.

“Run out of the last batch?”

She jumps at the sound of his voice, but then her shoulders fall and her head hangs down. “Ice cream doesn’t last long in my place. I should really buy the bigger containers, but then I’ll eat all of it at once and none of my clothes will fit.”

“So you simply buy a new, small container every few weeks?”

“Every week, but I try not to think about it too much.”

Killian chuckles, and he thinks there’s a small smile peeking at the corner of her lips. “Have you tried the Banana Split? I know you’re a Rocky Road kind of lass, but I have it on good authority that it’s an excellent flavor.”

She leans back against the glass and raises her brow. “Oh, really? Who told you that?”

“A very dashing man.” His brows move up and down on their own accord, and he knows he manages getting a smile from her all on his own this time. “I’ll buy you a pint, my treat.”

“I can buy my own ice cream.”

“Yeah, but I’m suggesting it, and if you don’t like it, I don’t want you having spent your money on it.” He opens the door she’s not leaning against, grabs two pints of the banana split, and then hands her one. “Have one on me, Swan.”

Her eyes roll, but she takes it. “Thank you.”

-/-

He sees her next the next day at the mailboxes in their lobby. It’s a different look for her, leggings and a sports bra with her hair pulled into a baseball cap, and she waves as he passes by before mentioning how much she liked the ice cream.

“Good” is all he manages to say in response.

-/-

Killian has off from the radio Saturday night. The station has moved him to only weekdays, so he tries to keep as normal of a schedule as possible. He wakes around eight, texts Liam to see how he’s been doing, goes to the gym, runs a few errands, and then is back in his apartment and doing laundry a little after noon. He sets up his equipment to do his podcast, and once that’s finished, he’s a free man.

A free man with no plans.

Scarlet is working at the bar, it’s Rob’s weekend with Roland, and Ariel and Eric are out of town for the weekend. He could call Liam again, but it’s nearly midnight in England now. Liam and Elsa are probably asleep.

Damn.

But maybe it’ll be nice to have a day to himself where he can catch up on whatever shows he’s been missing while straightening up the place. It probably needs a good deep cleaning, and he doesn’t know how he’s let it get as bad as he has. Liam’s Navy tendencies definitely rubbed off on Killian, and he desperately wants to curse his brother every time he spends far too long making his bed.

Killian puts Ozark on the television and starts cleaning, dusting the bookshelves and folding throw blankets before shifting around some of the records on the shelf opposite his books. Soon, it’s evening, and he stops wiping down his kitchen countertops to grab a pizza out of the freezer and pop it into the oven. When it’s finished, he nearly takes it to the couch to eat, but at the last moment, he decides to take his plate and his beer up to the apartment’s roof so he can eat at one of the picnic tables there and enjoy the early fall weather.

There are a few other people sitting around in the lounge chairs and at the table, and the elderly couple that lives on the first floor is tending to the garden they’ve set up that is producing the last of its goods. Killian nods at them before finding an almost empty table and settling down there.

“What kind of pizza is that?”

Killian finishes chewing his bite and turns to the kid sitting at the opposite end of the table. He’s ten, at most, and is wearing a Red Sox cap that’s too big for his head.

“Pepperoni,” Killian mumbles. “What are you eating?”

“My mom is making us hamburgers, but she’s making me eat a salad first. It’s gross.”

“Oh, come on now, a salad isn’t gross. You need your vegetables.”

The kid groans and leans back in his chair. “Are you just saying that because you’re an adult and that’s what you’re supposed to say?”

“Are adults supposed to say things like that, lad?”

He reluctantly picks a piece of lettuce off of his plate and puts it in his mouth. “My mom and my aunt say I have to eat vegetables. I don’t believe them.”

Killian chuckles and looks down to his plate, which has a distinct lack of vegetables. It’s his cheat day, but still, some lettuce wouldn’t kill him.

It’d do the opposite if it does what he’s telling this kid it does.

“I promise, vegetables are good for you. You’ve simply got to find some you like. I’m a fan of carrots and spinach. Have you ever had eggplant? You can make eggplant taste like a pizza if you want. The same with cauliflower.”

The kid’s nose scrunches up. “Is that what your pizza is made of?”

“No,” he laughs, “no, it’s not.”

“Henry, have you finished your – oh.”

Killian looks up at the sound of her voice, and that’s when he sees her. Today, her hair is in a set of double braids, she has on a white tank top and jeans that seem much more relaxed than her usual attire, and she’s holding a tray with several hamburgers on top of them.

God, she’s stunning.

Is this…is this her son?

And did she call him Henry?

Bloody hell.

This is the Henry from the phone call. He thought the kid sounded familiar when he first started talking, but he didn’t think too much of it. There was no way that the kid who called him and has had his show blow up with views and calls over the past few weeks lived in Killian’s apartment complex, and there’s really no way that his mum is Emma Swan.

What are the odds?

And who the hell in this apartment complex does Emma fancy?

No, no, that’s not any of his business, but he might need to tell the woman that her son is calling into radio shows.

Wait.

If Henry knows about his show, odds are he knows who Killian is. The little rascal.

“Hello, love,” Killian greets, flashing Emma a smile. “Your son here was just telling me about how he doesn’t like his vegetables.”

Her eyes roll, and she seems to unfreeze from the way she was stiffly standing above them. “We’re currently having a stalemate over vegetables, but Henry has to eat his salad before he can have his cheeseburger.”

“Mom.”

“Kid.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Henry, this is not a negotiation. Just because your dad didn’t make you eat any when you visited him doesn’t mean you don’t need them.”

Henry angrily stabs his fork at a few pieces and stuffs them in his mouth before Emma sits down and places the tray between them. “So, you decided to eat dinner up here, too?”

“Aye. I figured I’d enjoy the weather. I didn’t realize so many other people would have the same thought.”

“Everyone, apparently. Oh, the Banana Split ice cream was fantastic. Between the two of us, we ate it in a day.”

“It’s soooo much better than Rocky Road,” Henry mumbles with lettuce in between his teeth.

“It is rather good, isn’t it?”

“It’s great. Do you, uh, do you want a burger? I have extras.”

“Oh, I couldn’t impose, lass. I have my pizza.”

“You have frozen pizza that’s not even the good brand. Please, have a burger. There’s no way Henry and I will finish them all, and I had to do something with the meat before it went bad.”

Killian looks between his pizza and the burgers. They smell delicious, and really, he can have the pizza later. It’s just as good cold.

“I would love one, Swan.”

“Perfect.”

It’s surprisingly comfortable to sit and eat dinner with Emma and her son considering he barely knows them. He and Emma have spoken a few times over the past few weeks, but it was simple pleasantries. It wasn’t anything like learning that Henry is in the third grade and that Emma works in bail bonds, which explains her late nights. She doesn’t say anything definite, but he gathers that Henry’s father is barely in the picture despite Henry staying with him a few times recently, and while he’s curious, it’s none of his business.

She’s not asking him about his relationships, so really, what business does he have thinking about hers?

In the light of day, she seems kinder and less reserved than she is when he usually sees her. Happier, even.

“So what do you do?” Emma asks as she dabs her mouth with a napkin. “I forgot to ask earlier.”

“He’s on the radio,” Henry says.

And then the kid’s eyes go wide, and it seems that Henry has realized his mistake.

“And how do you know that?”

“Uhhhh, he said so.”

“I don’t believe he did. Do you listen to his show or something? Did you listen to him at your dad’s?”

“No.”

“Then how?”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Henry squeals before scrambling off the bench. “Can I have the key?”

Emma’s eyes narrow, but she still digs into her pocket and hands him the keys. “Do you have your phone with you?”

“Mhm. I’ll call you if I’m in danger.”

“Good. Now go even though I know you’re faking it.”

He giggles, but he takes the keys, quickly running to the door that takes him down the stairs. Killian can’t stifle his laughter, and Emma turns to look at him with her lips pressed into a straight line.

“Okay, what kind of radio show do you have, and why is my kid listening to it?”

Killian sighs and takes a sip of his beer. “I have a show that’s on between nine and two, at night of course, and people unfortunately call me ‘The Love Doctor.’”

“You’re not serious.”

“Oh, no, love, I unfortunately am. In between songs, people call in and ask for relationship advice, they share stories, we bring in experts, all of that, and, well, your son happened to call me a few weeks ago because he wants his mum to have a boyfriend. I, of course, did not know that the lad who called was your Henry until I met him an hour ago.”

The firm line of Emma’s lips has turned into a gaping, exasperated smile. “He did what now?”

Killian’s hand reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “He called. He said that you fancied someone in the building, and he wanted you to be happy. It was truly rather sweet. It’s been getting the show all kinds of attention, so I can get you a copy of the call if you want.”

Her cheeks are suddenly tinted with a beautiful shade of red, but they’re quickly hidden away by her palms. “Oh my God. Oh my God. He called in a show and asked for help getting me a boyfriend?”

“I was extremely charmed. My producer tried to call him back, so we could all talk off-air. He didn’t answer, and he probably knows he’s been caught in the act. That’s likely why he suddenly had to run to the restroom.”

Emma groans and leans down, burying her face in her hands as she mumbles something unintelligible. “How long ago was it?”

“About two weeks.”

“Fuck. That’s when he was with his dad, who apparently has a new girlfriend. That’s got to be why he called. I don’t – just, oh my God.” She finally looks back up at him, peeking through her fingers. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him to leave the adult things to the adults and to keep being a good kid because it sounded like he was a really good kid.”

“He is. Like, far better than I deserve. I didn’t think he’d be calling radio stations, though. I’m going to have to talk to him about this.”

Killian nods over Emma’s shoulder. “I think he’s decided to brave your wrath and come back.”

Henry sheepishly walks back up to the table and slides onto the seat. “Can we go get some more ice cream?”

-/-

Killian eats dinner with them again the next Saturday. It’s a coincidence once more, but this time they’re the only ones on the roof and choose to still sit together. Henry tells him about his week at school and fills in things Emma has told him about her work. Though, he already knew about some of it when they both got back to the apartment at the same time Wednesday night and talked for a few minutes.

It becomes a tradition of sorts, their Saturday afternoon meals. He offers to cook the next week, Emma offers the week after that, and he finds himself writing down new plans on his calendar for the foreseeable future. He doesn’t dare tell Ariel that he found their kid caller and his mum or that he would now call the both of them friends, but he does tell Liam.

Liam cannot stop laughing over the phone, but it’s still better than the all-consuming meltdown Ariel would have.

And really, Killian can’t blame him for his reaction. The two of them both know that Killian has been set in his routines for the past few years. He used to be more carefree, used to be capable of being a little more spontaneous, but then Milah died and having a routine was really the only thing that kept him sane.

It still is.

Even if he’s finding new things, or rather, new people, to fit into his routine.

-/-

“Killian, do you like Harry Potter?”

“I love Harry Potter. Why? Are you reading it?”

“We read it at night,” Emma explains as she puts a plate in front of Henry. He scrunches his nose up at the sight of peas, but it quickly passes. “We’re on the second one.”

“The Chamber of Secrets,” Henry says. “We’re almost finished, and I want to go buy the third one, but Mom won’t let me.”

“Well, do you have to have it before you’ve finished the second one? Then you might be tempted to read the next one ahead of time.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“Henry, can you go and get your Lego set from your room? Didn’t you want to show Killian the pirate ship you’re building?”

“What about my food?”

“It’ll still be here when you get back.”

He narrows his eyes at his mother. “Don’t eat my roll.”

“I’m not going to.” Emma crosses her fingers over her heart, this thing he’s noticed the two of them do. “Now, go.”

He nods and runs off before Emma turns her attention back to Killian. “He’s getting the box set of the books for Christmas, but he won’t stop pestering me about needing the third book right now. I’ve just got to hold him off for another week, but damn if it isn’t hard.”

Killian chuckles and stands from the table in order to fix his own plate, grabbing an extra roll to split with Henry. “Did he not put the books on his list for Santa? I know he was writing a letter.”

“No, he put things like a motorcycle and his very own airplane on his list for Santa. Luckily, there were a few more accessible things, too.”

Killian hums in response and rejoins Emma at the table. “I hope it’s alright, love, but I may have gotten the boy a notebook and some new colored pencils. He’s always drawing with mine when we have dinner there, and I figured it would be nice. But if you think that’s inappropriate, I can return them.”

“Killian, no,” she sighs as she reaches over and covers her hand with his, “that’s not inappropriate at all. That’s…I mean, that’s really sweet. I – ”

“You what?”

Her lips are parted into a pretty pink smile, but Killian can’t seem to focus on that. Instead, his attention is still drawn to the way her palm is resting against his knuckles and how he can feel each stroke of her thumb. This might be the first time Emma’s ever touched him, and there’s a heat that sparks along his skin and down his spine, settling in the pit of his stomach even as it swirls around.

Is this?

Is he?

Are they?

No.

“Killian, look!” Henry comes parading back in the room with a large ship made entirely out of Legos. “Look at this. Didn’t you say your brother has a big ship?”

“He does, but I don’t think it’s nearly as magnificent as this one. This is bloody brilliant, lad!”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. Did you do this by yourself?”

He shrugs, but there’s no denying the beam in his smile. “Yeah, but I followed the instructions. Do you want to see those?”

“Maybe after dinner, okay? We wouldn’t want your peas to get cold. I’m pretty sure you’ve grown at least a foot since you started eating vegetables, and we can’t stop that.”

“I’ve grown three inches this year.”

“Well, only a few more to go.”

-/-

It’s Christmas when Killian realizes he may possibly fancy Emma.

(When he realizes that he definitely does.)

(Without a doubt.)

He eats breakfast with Liam and Elsa over FaceTime and then goes to have lunch with Ariel and Eric before they travel to see Ariel’s parents for dinner. Will is out of town meeting Belle’s family, and Robin always spends Christmas in New York with Roland’s grandparents.

Killian should have gotten a ticket and flown home this year, but he was saving the money to be able to visit after Elsa gives birth in May.

It’s fine. This isn’t the first holiday he’s spent mostly alone, and it certainly won’t be the last.

He’s one glass of rum into one of his nicest bottles when there’s a knock at his door. It’s Emma and Henry. They’re both in pajamas, neither of their heads of hair tamed, and they’re holding a tray full of cookies with several Harry Potter movies stacked on top.

“Do you have a DVD player?”

-/-

ES: Did someone really call into your show asking how to choose between their wife and their mistress?

KJ: Indeed.

ES: I have got to listen to this thing. It seems like it can’t even be real.

KJ: I promise you that my show is real. And you really should listen to it. I know you like the sound of my voice.

ES: You keep on thinking that.

KJ: You know I’m on air now, right? You could always turn on the radio.

ES: I’m sitting in a restaurant, not a car. I need to focus.

KJ: And you don’t consider texting a distraction?

ES: Shut up.

His headset beeps, and Killian looks up from his phone to his computer screen to see that they have a new caller.

“Hello, this is Radio 105, and you’re speaking to the Love Doctor. How can I help you tonight?”

“Killian!”

Oh shit.

Henry.

“Killian, I need help! My mom is on a date tonight.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Killian sighs as he glances to Ariel and starts slashing his hand across his neck. He needs her to turn the call off, to go to commercial or something, but she’s not paying any damn attention to him. This is why he needs access to the full set of controls. “Lad, I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? Can you do that? Like your mum tells you to do when you’re upset.”

“One,” Henry says. “Two. Three.”

“Good,” Killian says. “Now, can you please calmly tell me what’s going on?”

“My mom dropped me off at my dad’s house, and she was in a nice dress. She told my dad she had something to do, and later I heard him say that my mom was going on a date. But you’re at work, so she can’t be going on a date! She can’t go on a date when she likes you!”

Killian nearly knocks his coffee all of the controls.

Bloody hell.

“Oh. My. God.” Ariel screeches into his headphones.

Great. Now she’s paying attention.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh holy hell.”

He turns to her and motions for her to cut the call again, and she finally gets the hint and presses a few buttons until he sees that a song just started playing. He’s going to get hell for that, but he cannot have this conversation live on-air with Henry. He simply can’t.

“Henry, are you still there?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, good, so I need you to listen to me, yeah? Can you do that, lad?”

“I’m listening.”

“Your mum isn’t on a date. She’s working. You know how she has to get dressed up for work sometimes, aye?”

“Sometimes.”

“And you don’t spend that much time with your dad, so he probably doesn’t know that. But besides, Emma is an adult she can date whoever she wants to. Why would it have to be me?”

“Because you’re the guy she likes. From the first time I called. I didn’t know it was you, but it is. And I know she still likes you because she’s always asking you to dinner and texting you. She told Mary Margaret that she likes you, so she can’t date someone else. I don’t want her to date anyone else.”

“Hey, hey, Henry,” Killian soothes. His heart is beating a mile a minute, and his head is going in several different directions, but he can’t focus on himself right now. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Listen, I don’t know if your mum and I are ever going to go on a date, but I’m always going to be your friend. I’ll keep cooking dinner and reading books with you. We’ll go to the aquarium next week. Are you still wanting to do that?”

“Yeah,” he meekly whispers. “But I really want you to be my mom’s boyfriend.”

“Can I tell you a secret? I really want to be your mum’s boyfriend, too, but that’s not a decision just I can make. It’s up to her, too.”

Henry sighs, and Killian can so easily imagine him laying across his bed in the dark at Neal’s house. His nose is probably scrunched up just like Emma’s does when she’s frustrated, and if he had to bet, he’d say that Henry’s legs are dangling off and just barely touching the ground.

“Are you going to pick me up on Friday?”

“I will be at school waiting for you, lad. I promise. Now, go to bed before you get in trouble, and I will put my number in your phone so you can call me without having to call the show next time. Goodnight, Henry.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

As soon as the phone line goes dead, Killian leans down and buries his face in his hands. He hears the studio door click open, a chair’s wheel creak, and he knows Ariel is in front of him without bothering to open his eyes.

“So, were you just never going to tell me that the woman and her kid who you’ve been hanging out with for the past seven months is the same woman and kid who made your show famous?”

“I didn’t know when he called.”

“What?”

“When he first called, I didn’t know who he was. He didn’t know who I was either. I’d seen Emma around the apartment a few times, but then we started running into each other at the grocery store after we both got off work. I figured it out when we were all eating dinner on the roof maybe two weeks after the call. I told Emma, so she knows, too. I just…this entire time I’ve assumed that the man she fancied was someone else. I never would have assumed it was me, but Henry? Henry says that it’s me.”

Ariel’s hand rests on his knee and squeezes. “Killian Jones, you are a catch, and that woman would be a fool not to be with you. What are you going to do?”

“God, I don’t know.” He takes a deep breath and leans back to run his hands through his hair and pinch the bridge of his nose. How the hell does he give people advice when his own life is such a mess? “I need to talk to Emma, tell her what Henry called me about. He was pretty freaked out. I can’t start anything with her without considering him. I don’t know how to navigate this. I should. Milah had a son, but she never let me meet him. I don’t know. I don’t know if I have any idea what I’m doing.”

“To me, it sounds like you know exactly what you’re doing.” She taps his knee once more. “We’ve got to finish the show. There’s only so much air-time I can fill with songs and me doing the commercial breaks. Do you think you can finish?”

All he does is nod.

-/-

Emma is waiting for him outside his apartment door.

She’s in her preferred red dress that she wears when she does one of her honeytraps, but she doesn’t have on the heels. Or her trainers. Instead, she’s without shoes, the heels flung next to her purse on the ground, and she’s got what looks like a takeout bag in the middle of all of it.

“Swan?”

She looks up and blinks. “I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry. I didn’t think he would do that again. It’s your job, and he shouldn’t have messed it up like that. I’ve got to give him your number so he can call you directly. He should already have it since you pick him up from school sometimes, but I didn’t think. I didn’t – ”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes as he steps up to her and places his hands on her shoulders. His fingers trail over her skin, pushing the loose strands back until he’s tucking the ones around her face behind her ears so he can see her eyes. He’s never quite gotten over how green they are. “Henry didn’t do anything wrong. How do you know that he even called?”

“They had your show on in the restaurant I was waiting for my skip in. That’s why I texted you about the whole wife versus mistress thing. But was I literally putting the handcuffs on my skip as I heard my son’s voice freaking out about me being on a date. He knows I dress up for work sometimes. I don’t know why he let Neal get into his head like that.”

“Neal is his dad. He’s going to be influenced by him.”

Emma scoffs and leans forward until her forehead is resting against his nose. “Neal is going to break his heart one day. I just know it. He’s only been in his life for two years, and he’s already screwed up so many times. Henry just hasn’t realized it yet.”

“Henry is going to be just fine. He’s an excellent lad.”

“What kind of excellent lad calls into radio shows to talk about his mom’s dating life? He literally told you…oh my God, Killian, he told you that I liked you, didn’t he?”

He laughs into her hair and kisses the top of her head while his hands run up and down her back. Emma’s hands move up his back, nails scratching through his t-shirt. When did they get there?

More importantly, can they stay?

“He did.”

“Just lock me in my apartment forever. I’m ready to die of embarrassment.”

“Now, Swan, don’t do that. You’re not the first woman to fancy me. I’ve been told that I’m devilishly handsome after all.”

“Shut up.”

“No, no, I can’t, and after all, I have the same feelings for you.”

“You think I’m devilishly handsome?”

Killian chuckles into her hair once more before lifting her chin with the tip of his finger so he can see those green, green eyes once more.

“I think you’re beautiful, and I also think that I like you just as much as your son says you like me.”

He doesn’t even care that he sounds like he’s in primary school.

“Yeah, but – ”

There’s no point in bothering to let Emma finish her protest. She’s going to doubt his words, and really, if he’s learned anything about Emma in the past few months, it’s that she’s a woman who likes action over pretty words and promises. She likes for someone who is going to show up when he says he will and who isn’t going to back down.

Kissing her seems like pretty much the only way to tell her that he has no intentions of backing down.

Emma’s words are caught by his lips, and the first thing he feels is the vibration of them before she stops talking and settles her lips with his. They’re exactly as soft as they look, softer possibly, and the hairs on the back of Killian’s neck stand up as he realizes that this feeling, this euphoria, is him kissing Emma Swan.

He groans when she fully opens her mouth to him, the warmness of her melting into him, and his fingers find purchase in her hair, tugging and tilting just like he wants to. His tongue drags along her lip as her hairs fall over his neck and slip into his hair, tugging and pulling in her own way.

One other thing he knows about Emma is that she is not afraid to take charge.

But Killian likes that, too, likes getting what he wants, and right now all he can think about is backing Emma up to his door and kissing her in the way that she deserves to be kissed. Her tongue is warm when it slides against his. It’s a wet slide of heat and what he thinks is the slightest hint of whiskey and chocolate, but mostly, it’s all Emma. She’s kissing him exactly how he wants to be kissing her, and the heat between them simmers along his skin and down his spine until it settles.

If this is what kissing Emma Swan is like, he doesn’t know why he didn’t find the courage sooner.

Because he didn’t want to mess the first good thing he’s found in a long, long time. That’s why.

She pulls away with a gasp, but he can’t stop kissing her, can’t stop pressing his hips into hers and feeling the way she groans. His teeth drag along her jaw and her neck until he settles at her ear, and the sound she makes is so damn delectable that he loses his own breath. That’s only for a moment, though, because then she’s opening her legs so he can settle into her space while he’s licking the lobe of her ear and groaning himself.

“Oh my God.”

“I’m very tempted to make an awful joke right now, love.”

She laughs at the same time that her hips press down against his hardening length, and she’s definitely trying to kill him.

“I have a ten-year-old. I’m used to the bad jokes.”

The thought of Henry sobers Killian, and he noses at Emma’s collarbone and the swell of the top of her breast before pulling himself up and putting enough space between them so he can look into her eyes and speak without his lips brushing against hers.

He does not, however, remove his hand from her ass.

He is, decidedly, not always the gentleman he claims to be.

“We can stop right now, Emma,” he tells her. “We can stop right now, and things will go back to how they were. I told Henry earlier that I will always be his friend, and I think right now, I need to tell you the same. No matter what happens from this point forward.”

Emma swallows and nods, but her fingertips are still brushing against the nape of his neck. It feels fucking fantastic, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if it all stops.

“If someone else said that to me, I don’t think I’d believe it, but with you, I do.” Her head tilts back against the door, and she smiles that beautiful smile of hers. “And if you ever do something to hurt that kid’s feelings, I will kill you.”

“Of that, I have no doubt, darling.”

“Good. Now stop talking and take me inside your apartment. I want to get your pants off.”

He arches his brow. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” she laughs with a role of her hips. “Yeah, I do.”

-/-

“Well,” Killian sighs into the microphone, “it’s been quite a night, hasn’t it? I hope everyone has found the clarity they needed for their relationships, no matter where those relationships stand. I also hope you’ve heard some damn good music.”

The instrumental music that plays him out at the end of every show starts coming to an end, and Killian smiles, knowing what’s waiting for him in a little over an hour.

“Oh, and one last thing. Does everyone remember our favorite kid caller, Henry? He’s been getting some frequent flier miles over here lately, hasn’t he? Well, I’m happy to report that his mother has that boyfriend now, the one in her apartment complex she fancied. I think Henry might be taking over my name as The Love Doctor.”

#Anonymous #cs prompts #cs ff #cs fic #cs fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

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the-busy-ghost · 4 years

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Alright here’s my belated Thoughts on that latest TSP episode. I should add again, I am in no way saying people shouldn’t like this show, I just need to be petty on my own blog.

- Stafford’s Performative Masculinity is a bit Much, even for a sixteenth century man

- Katherine doesn’t want Wolsey appointed chancellor because that would give him too much power and the chancellor is apparently the second most powerful man in the kingdom... so powerful in fact that I’m not even sure we’ve seen the current chancellor on screen, except in his ecclesiastical role as archbishop of Canterbury

- Ah the migrating towers of Holyrood. They weren’t there for the last two episodes and they won’t be there next scene either but they’ll be *theoretically* here all week folks.

- It is mildly hilarious that this show seems to think that every single moment in Scottish politics took place in one wee house in Somerset “Edinburgh”, and the only people who are ever involved are two dozen stereotypical Scottish noblemen, and one Englishwoman (and no clergy? Which is extremely weird given how heavily involved they were in royal administration).

- Not to mention they imply Holyrood is meant to be Edinburgh (it is now, then it was actually in the burgh of the Canongate but close enough) and yet the burgh skyline of Edinburgh is never visible in the background of these shots, just rolling fields and a nondescript hill that I assume is meant to be Arthur’s seat.

- Ok so we’re portraying Angus as the poetic soul instead of his uncle, that’s fine, that makes no sense but it’s fine.

- Who the fuck is Bishop McElroy. Setting aside the fact that McElroy was more common in Ireland than Scotland during the sixteenth century (and there were no major noble or even influential lairdly families bearing the surname), why could they not have just done a google search and found out that, oh yeah, there were Real Life Scottish Bishops in 1515, anyone of whom would have done. And I don’t know why they mucked about with the timeline but if they were going to muck around with the timeline anyway then then how about maybe even, dare I say it, Gavin Douglas, bishop-elect of Dunkeld???

- Also I didn’t quite catch the full line so I may have misheard but I think Margaret states that they got married in the kirk of South Queensferry? I mean tbh this only confirms my belief that the writers think everything happened in the vicinity of Edinburgh (and that they didn’t even bother to think to TRY and find out where the marriage might have taken place, just started tossing a few Scottish place names out there as if that would do. The Ferry’s not even that private, it was on a major pilgrimage route and an important crossing point over the Forth). It’s also a bit irritating because there’s no reason for the inaccuracies? They didn’t have to show the wedding so they didn’t have to change the location or characters for ease of filming or anything, it’s just a throwaway line, there’s no reason for them to make up a bishop and unlikely wedding location? Anyway join us next week as Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn conduct their affair in the middle of London Bridge.

- Also excuse me while I make an unconvinced noise at that line about how the Douglases (i.e. all of them, not just the Red ones) have always ‘licked the balls of England’. While their notoriety for being Shady As Fuck and occasionally siding with the English was certainly well known, no sixteenth century Scotsman worth his salt would have sullied the name of the Good Sir James just to score points off the Angus branch of the family.

- (Maybe this is a bad time to point out that they’re not technically licking ‘balls’ in this instance either...)

- I take it back there was one (1) woman very briefly in that scene where Margaret and “Angus” rushed to grab the bairns. She was promptly never seen again. Confirmed Cryptid.

- Also where did all the other bairns (James IV’s ones, not Margaret’s) go. I mean they were actually there last episode I think, so it’s not like they were implying that Margaret got rid of them as soon as she could. Have they FINALLY grown up?

- How quickly do letters travel in this world? How long have they been in that cellar? Are they still there?

- Wait so now Katherine of Aragon knows his name is Archibald??? Why has everyone been calling him ‘Angus Douglas’ then, even when his dad (and presumably grandfather) was alive?

- Lol @ Henry ‘after all I’ve done for her’. Do tell, what HAVE you done for Margaret.

- Hang on so Thomas Boleyn is Earl of Wiltshire already and yet his father-in-law Thomas Howard still isn’t duke of Norfolk

- Second LOL @ an archbishop of York willfully summoning a naturalised Frenchman to Scotland without the king of England’s permission, as if Scotland lay in his gift and as if that was in any way a good idea, even for some political point-scoring

- “Margaret’s sons must take the throne”- Katherine are you aware that James V was crowned King of Scots not two weeks after Flodden, and approximately seven months before his younger brother Alexander was even born.

- Again, HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN IN THE CELLAR? Angus has grown a BEARD.

- He’s not the future king he IS the king. A tiny toddler king. You help him go potty you disrespectful shite, I don’t care if you’re having a nervous breakdown. (May I just point out again it is CRIMINAL that David Lindsay isn’t in this)

- We all pause for An Exaggerated Whispering Scene, that great period drama staple. I mean are we sure they’re gossiping about Henry and a *woman*, because the way people are talking about Wolsey at that dinner once again makes it look like he’s the real Mistress

- So wait how is this ‘letting’ Margaret go with Howard thing supposed to work. Is it like knock-knock special delivery for the duke of Norfolk, here you go please take your princess back.

- And when exactly did Angus do all this negotiating when he has supposedly been stuck in a cellar for weeks. Gavin Douglas has a lot to answer for, and not just the sheer length of the Eneados.

- ‘Bog-fuckers’ - not a bog in sight in this west country version of Scotland. Also er, just how does one fuck a bog. Asking for a friend.

- I’m just being pedantic, Howard’s foul mouth is actually the only genuine piece of comedy the writers can come up with in this tv show.

- Howard putting up a good front here but come on there’s like six of them and about two dozen Miscellaneous Scotsmen. I know that the English were very practised in quartering Scots whenever they liked but eight to one is not good odds, even for the victor of Flodden.

- Yeah that whole scene is not how the history worked. At All. But let’s let them ride dramatically away across a field as if it’s at all plausible. (Also why is it always fields- I know Scotland’s roads were bad in the sixteenth century, but seriously they were at least *technically* roads when you got near Edinburgh)

- And there was definitely no Isabella Hoppringle, which is again, criminal. I mean I expected it but it’s still sad. Mind you I suppose that might imply that Scottish women are real creatures and not cryptids which, as we know, is totally unrealistic.

- Even weirder though, they’re not including Margaret Douglas? Why?

- Only one man has ever been in the king’s rooms? Seriously? You expect us to believe this, not only from a historical accuracy perspective, but also from the tv show that gave us implied Wolsey/Henry?

- The Great English Midwife Shortage c.1509-1516

- Do NONE of the many many grown-up people at the English court understand the lottery of birth and that you can’t just like, assume the baby will be a boy even if you hope it will. Wishful thinking is one thing (and common) but this wholehearted belief thing is frankly unrealistic.

- It’s also unfair how they’re treating Mary as unloved by both her parents. We know Katherine loved her daughter in some way, and it’s also not really fair to say that Henry VIII was anything less than a doting father in her early years.

- And the record for fastest churching goes to Katherine again. Cracking cape though.

- Katherine all ‘he won’t visit his daughter’- you won’t even look at her either though. How is this a sympathetic depiction of Katherine again? Don’t get me wrong, it’s absolutely understandable if a royal mother didn’t always want to hold her daughter but really? After every other negative light they’ve shown Katherine in and called it Empowerment?

- Hey I don’t know much about English customs but seems to me that inviting the French to intervene in Scotland without consulting the king might just be a beheading offence Wolsey. AND THEN HENRY COVERS FOR HIM? THE PAGES OF ENGLISH HISTORY BOOKS ARE NOT STAINED WITH THE BLOOD OF CIVIL SERVANTS EXECUTED FOR FAR LESSER OFFENCES FOR THIS KIND OF NONSENSE TO BE ACCEPTABLE.

- Thomas Boleyn, dad of the year

- People do kiss, Margaret Pole. That was a common thing. MEN kissed each other goddamnit. Not really good enough. I mean by your logic Katherine should have broken up with Henry after her dad laid one on him in the first episode.

- How is it that Thomas More, of all people, has the Goss.

- Oh and apparently there was also a National Laundress Shortage in 1516 too.

Ok so it was about as meh as every other episode but I think this one really brought home to me how poorly thought out Margaret’s storyline was. I mean usually these period dramas have to insert Drama for no reason to keep people interested, but Margaret’s life was FULL of drama and they had so much to work with. Instead they seem to have actually stripped most of the drama out to tell an utterly incomprehensible story about a bunch of stereotypical Scotsmen, who all live in the same house in Fake Edinburgh, chasing the only woman in Scotland into the cellar, and then posting her off back to England a few weeks later.

#TSP #Margaret Tudor #rants #I know I know #I finally got the internet back #And I'm using it to have a really petty rant about a tv show I'm largely indifferent to #This is the true purpose of tumblr

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hudsontfreeman · 4 years

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Noticing (or a Case for Seinfeld Living)

It’s really impossible to know definitively, but I’d say I’m about halfway through the fourth or fifth season of the second reboot of my life’s tv show.

This is more of an estimate - I’m not really sure how I’ve been dividing up the seasons. Obviously, the first season was the 3-4 years at the beginning where nobody really knew what was going on and the protagonist was kind of just there. He was arguably, more of a blank canvas for the audience to see themselves through, as the real protagonists (his mom and dad) did all the expository heavy lifting. To be fair, this was just an introduction to the series and audiences were at least impressed enough for it to be renewed.

The formula found its bearings in the second season, as most successful shows tend to do, and stayed more or less on track for ten seasons till adolescence prompted a hard reboot. I can’t stress enough how much the show changed: episodes varied widely week to week, multiple characters were booted, the previously so-called co-protagonists of the show (those rascally parents) occasionally became outright antagonists, etc… It was quite frankly, not that great of a show, and in many ways traded the lack of conflict of its predecessor, with an abundance of conflict rarely resolved. It was not a show anyone was enjoying and the second college reboot was a welcome return to form.

This latest season is not half bad. We’ve got a lot of good series-wide story arcs going. There is a fair amount of midseason conflict, reoccurring characters that are staying relatively fresh (with the exception of Trevor), a decent theme song (it’s currently some experimental jazz from hell), and I’m really feeling like the protagonist is “starting to figure out what his deal is”, so to speak.

It is important to note that the protagonist has “started to figure out what his deal is” many times before this season, so I wouldn’t necessarily trust his judgement, but the confidence is remarkable.

He, at the very least, seems to finally be able to admit that he is not a cool person, which is certainly progress. Naively, though; he is convinced that this admission might very well be the first step to eventually becoming cool.

Most engaged viewers know this is a misstep.

“Life’s not like a movie” might be as useless of a phrase as it is pervasive. The assumption of the phrase implies that everyone is going around living their lives like the main character in a blockbuster comedy - cartoonishly pursuing their dreams, accidentally falling in love, and somehow, repeatedly being surprised when things don’t work out the way they think things should.

This is clearly false. No one thinks like this.

No one thinks everything will work out. No one thinks they’ll get everything they want. No one thinks their life is simple. No one thinks they’ll find the complete answer to the question they’ve been asking all along.

No one is nearly as naive about their existence as we seem to think they are. And I don’t think people watch movies and TV shows because they want these things either.

Sure, maybe there is someone out there who says they want life to be this uncomplicated, straightforward thing, but no one actually believes them. Nearly every person I’ve ever met genuinely believes that they are the true pragmatist. Has anyone ever actually met a consciously sincere idealist? Who wants to be the sucker?

Perhaps I’m generalizing, but I don’t think people watch television or movies, read books, and tell stories because they are innocently convinced of the simplicity of their narrative structure or because they want to vicariously live through that simplicity either. People are not starry-eyed, gullible children, nor do they wish they could be. People reflect their lives through story, not because they make life seem simple, but because these stories make life seem meaningful. I would go as far as to say - they don’t just make life seem meaningful, they remind them that it already is.

My friend Trevor and I believe genuinely, that we are this latest generation’s reincarnation of the 90’s sitcom, Seinfeld. He is George and I am Jerry, respectively. We’ve drawn out many of the parallels over the course of our friendship and I will list them here now:

- Trevor is short and stocky (George), while I am tall(er) and lanky (Jerry).

- My friend, Sam (Kramer) often walks into my house unannounced, hair lopsided, looking to “borrow” things from my kitchen.

- We routinely complain about our lives at various diners/coffee shops loudly and with little sympathy for the people around us. (The plot of the show)

- We improvise neurotic standup routines about the absurdity of mundane life and our own selfishness. (Much like George and Jerry, these routines are more sad than they are funny)

The only thing we’ve failed to find a direct parallel for is Elaine, as perhaps the most unrealistic aspect of the show, was the fantasy of anyone staying good friends with their ex.

All of these specific comparisons aside, I think what Trevor and I really like about this joke, is the idea that the only difference between our lives “in the real world” and our lives as tv characters, is the perspective that comes with observing rather than experiencing. What I mean by that is to say, there is something inherently and beautifully constructive about observing years as seasons, days as episodes, and people as characters. They become features of the life we are actively noticing, not just necessities of the existence we are passively being forced to endure.

As many sad, 90s-sitcom-obsessives like myself know, the significance of the creation of the Seinfeld rested in the catchphrase Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld sold the show on - it’s “a show about nothing.” The idea of it was, if you take a comedian like Seinfeld and put him in a variety of mundane settings, the jokes will come, not from heightening his experiences, but by letting him endlessly interpose his observations on the absurdity of the mundane itself. But I don’t think that’s significant in the way people may think it is.

Yes, George/Jerry/Elaine/Kramer are funny, goofy people with above average neurotic tendencies. Yes, it is a situational comedy written by professional comedy writers, building narratives out of the ways standups get their material. Yes, it broke many mainstream television conventions and historically broke the formula of the sitcom. But I think the most brilliant thing Seinfeld did, is definitively inspire the tacit belief that everything is worth paying attention to. Maybe, it’s worth noticing because its infuriating, or ridiculous, or hilarious, or disturbing, etc… But absolutely everything demands to be noticed.

In the fourth season of Seinfeld (arguably the best and most influential season), George and Jerry begin developing a TV show in much the same way Seinfeld and Larry David did four years prior. Throughout episode after episode, they go back and forth trying to come up with some fresh idea to wow NBC executives. This goes on with some degree of expected laziness and hijinks till George finally has it. Ever the meta-self-referential goldmine, George decides it should be “a show about nothing.” NBC executives are neither wowed nor thrilled, but the pilot get’s made, and all the characters in Seinfeld get remade in the show-within-the-show - “Jerry”. This was genius for two reasons.

It justified itself as a show by explaining its own concept directly to the audience through the show itself. (Perhaps the reason why this season skyrocketed the shows viewership)

It explained how television works, and more importantly, it explained how stories work.

The characters of Seinfeld, much like the characters of any story where the writer takes the time to describe them, are just bizarre people living in our bizarre world. Brought to their logical conclusions, television characters are human beings incapable of not observing the particularities of their existence. They go to the same coffee shops, they hang out with the exact same people, and they can’t stop scrutinizing the smallest detail of, or change, to that reality. Television shows remind us that the details of our existence are interesting.

The characters we surround ourselves with can be the funniest people in the world when we notice why they do what they do. The job we spend thirty to seventy hours a week at can be the weirdest thing in the world when we notice how ridiculous it is. This year can be a not-so great season. Tomorrow can be a particularly great episode. The television show we’re participating in can be surprising and disappointing and funny and sad and predictable and strange, but its a show we choose whether or not to watch - just watch it!

Sometimes, when I have a bad day, I go home, I go to bed, and I narrate out loud, “Hudson was not having a good day.” It almost always helps. Not because it reminds me that I am an insane person and that’s funny, but because it reminds me that I am a character in a movie I am watching, not just playing a role in. I am the protagonist of my own movie, playing a character in other people’s movies, learning how to notice why we’re in a movie at all. Any moment that we don’t realize that, that the story is meaningful, whatever it is, is a moment lost to ourselves.

"Life’s not like a movie” is a pointless phrase that doesn’t mean anything about anyone. We know life is not simple, but we want life to be consequential. Stories tell us it is. So we remind ourselves by telling the stories and listening to the stories and vice versa and on and on till we're dead and death is always a pretty good story too. (Almost always a great tv show or movie)

Life may not be painless or easy, but it is certainly interesting. Movies, television, novels, myths, comics, plays, etc… Those things are at their best when they remind us that the only difference between letting living pass us by and actively choosing to experience existence, is the amount of attention we pay to it. The latest season of the tv show that is my being is sometimes pretty rough, especially when I’m arguing with Trevor about who the main character is, but it is not boring. I can’t ask for much else.

#writing #in this essay i will #essay #personal essay #seinfeld #existentialism #existential humor

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kinetic-elaboration · 3 years

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December 29: The Wrath of Khan

Today’s movie watching was Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.

My overall impression versus TMP is that this is clearly a smoother and more consistently entertaining film. It has a definite story with very little filler, good pacing, a lot of great little dialogue and character moments, and a strong conflict at its center.

But its sci fi bona fides are much weaker. Like by a lot.

Mom and I are talking a bit about Genesis and the more we talk, the weaker it appears to me. First, it’s not really as believable, imo, as a lot of Star Trek. Maybe it’s because it’s not alien based, but I just have a harder time suspending disbelief to think this is possible. Second, it’s not clear why anyone thought this was a good idea. I mean, as McCoy immediately pointed out, it just seems so CLEARLY dangerous: an object meant to foster creation that could so easily be the worst weapon the universe has ever known--nothing could go awry there! Third, the reason for creating such a device isn’t obvious at all. Carol mentions the “growing population” and “food scarcity” but nothing we’ve ever seen of the Federation implies they’re running out of space. Or, frankly (Tarsus IV aside), food. And fourth, there really isn’t any point to Genesis in all its particulars in this film. Like, obviously, its actual purpose is a plot device to resurrect Spock. Within just this film, it doesn’t do anything. Khan wants it, for some reason I’ve already forgotten even though I just saw the film, and he gets it, but I didn’t even notice that happening, because it was so unimportant. His REAL mission is his single minded revenge fantasy on Kirk. Genesis is just a McGuffin/space filler/plot device for the next film.

And honestly that’s not such a big deal, except that when you compare it to TMP, ,and its central idea of a human made probe that gained so much knowledge, doing what we taught it to do, that it became sentient and then started searching for the meaning of life, and how this relates to the search for meaning experienced by the main alien lead, and how his search, in that film and throughout the series, is a mirror for humans and OUR need for purpose... well it just seems really weak. “We made this really dangerous and unrealistic thing for no reason whoops!”

Mom is now criticizing Kirk for being too slow on the uptake when he first encounters the Reliant, which is fair. That’s pretty OOC of him. The idea that he’s too old for space is both one that I must personally disregard, and one that the film would have you discard, since we’ve already heard from TWO characters, the people who know him best, that his best destiny is as a starship captain, and command is his proper role. And that he might be a little rusty is also not a great explanation imo, because the rust was supposed to have come off in TMP. So, plot hole probably.

We were trying to do some math--TMP is at least 2 years post 5YM and TWOK is at least 10 years post TMP, so at least 8 years post TMP. I can understand more rust growing but like... he was already an Admiral in TMP and the idea that he was out of practice with actual command was a big part of his arc there. So it doesn’t seem warranted to do that again.

Also, the way he was commanding poorly in TMP was very IC: he was pushing too hard, trying too much, caring too much about the mission and not enough about...the laws of physics. That’s very Kirk. Being slow on the uptake, caught with his britches down--that’s not Kirk. Plus, with no one to call him out on it, like Decker did in TMP, his poor command doesn’t seem like a big character obstacle to overcome but just like...sloppiness all around.

I thought Khan was over all... just not that interesting. I guess I’m just not into the obsession/revenge plot. Also...idk man he didn’t seem that super to me. He outsmarted Kirk, like, once, and Kirk outsmarted him like 4 times. He tortured some people--but regular humans can do that. He used those sandworm thingies, which is also something humans could do. Overall, he didn’t seem to have any particularly special skills. The only time he really seemed like a worthy adversary for Kirk was when Kirk wasn’t really being IC himself.

I’m also not into the fridging of his wife. Think how much cooler it would have been if she’d still been alive! The only non-super human in the bunch and she’s still there! Ex-Starfleet and bitter!

The K/S in this film is very soothing. Imo they are clearly together here, and the whole film is better if you assume they’re boyfriends and everyone knows. That Vulcan convo that Spock and Saavik have? Waaaaay funnier if you think she’s talking about his boyfriend (”not what I expected....very human” “Well no one’s perfect”). Every time they call each other ‘friend’ like ““friend”“? All the Looks? The birthday gift?

Also the “I have been and always shall be your [friend]” scene is a wedding I will not be taking criticism on this opinion. Could it have been written more like a vow? I think not. It’s not quite This Simple Feeling but it’s the best this film has in that regard.

I liked Saavik and I do think she’s one of the better later-movie additions (though I only like her, as far as I can remember, when played by Kirstie Alley). She didn’t necessarily strike me as super alien, though, at least not at first... But I appreciated how persistent she was about the stupid test, and her regulation quoting. I enjoyed her. I also liked how she was obviously Spock’s protege, which makes her Kirk’s step-protege, and they had just a little bit of that awkward dynamic going on. (”Did you change your hair?”)

The Bones and Kirk relationship was great in this film. You can really feel their friendship and their history with each other. Bones knows him so well and can be honest with him, just when Kirk needs it most.

I also love how Kirk has the SAME conversation with both Bones and Spock (re: being a captain again) but with Spock it’s sooooo much flirtier. In case you weren’t sure what the difference in these two relationships is.

Bonus: this bit of dialogue: Spock: “Be careful, Jim.” / Bones: “WE will.” Lol Spock people who aren’t your boyfriend do exist.

Obviously, I cried during THAT scene. Honestly AOS should have taken note about how to do emotional scenes like that: they come after the main action is over and the villain is defeated. Then they hit at the right time and to the right degree. Kirk just slumping down after Spock dies....like he’s boneless...like he doesn’t know what to do... I CANNOT.

I feel so bad for him that I’ll even forgive him that awful eulogy. Spock died for Genesis? Uh, no, he died for the Enterprise, and for YOU. Spock is the “most human”? You shut your whoreson mouth

I remember hating both Carol and David but I actually hated them less this time, Carol especially. My mom is being really harsh about her, though, which makes me feel less confident in my assessment. I mean first off, she’s the inventor of Genesis, which is a pretty big strike against her. Second...pretty lame to keep Kirk from David. Although I did some vague math and Kirk would only have been about 21, still in the Academy, when David was born, so you can see how that would work out. Also, she distinctly says “Were we together?” which means they were not--this was a fuck buddy arrangement for sure. More complicated. But it still feels weird to retcon that, like, he’s known THIS WHOLE TIME that he’s a dad and we’re only learning about it now, as an audience.

Anyway I’m getting off track. Carol. What to make of her? Is she unstable? Is she still mad at Kirk? My mom points out that she just decided on her own that David would want to join Starfleet if he knew Kirk was his father--whereas what seems to have happened instead is he didn’t just become a civilian scientist like his mom but became her specific protege--working on a project where everyone was probably handpicked by her? I would assume? Also..he hates Starfleet. Not to put everything on the mom, but how did that happen?

Also...going down the rabbit hole of this and feeling awkward about it... but David KNEW Kirk. As “that guy you hung around with.” That means Kirk was in his life for quite a while, long enough for him to have memories, and long enough for those memories to still be with him even into his 20s. But he was never allowed to know who Kirk was. That means Carol’s rule must have been “You can see your son but you can’t tell him who you are” which in some way seems meaner to me than just “please don’t contact us again.” If he was already on his way into space, that could even make sense--”I know you’re not going to be able to be a family with us, so let’s not pretend, let’s make a clean break now.” But that wasn’t what happened!

Anyway whatever not to be HAICG!Kirk about this or anything lol

David is mostly annoying because he’s so anti-Kirk lol. I found him least annoying when he came around to Kirk at the end. Another big strike against him: he wore his sweater tied over his shoulders in such a Preppy manner. I honestly don’t see what about him is supposed to be reminiscent of Kirk.

David/Saavik was definitely happening lol. I wish I could have heard that conversation. It sounds like she told him a lot!!! Not sure why she attached herself to this particular annoying human so fast but I guess she did.

....I think that might be all. The uniforms and general styling were much better than TMP (though less funny/entertaining), and it was certainly an enjoyable overall yarn. A lot to pick apart and critique but in a fun way. Will probably watch The Search for Spock soon.

#the year 2020 #2020: star trek #2020: fandom thoughts #star trek tos

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cavaliant · 4 years

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The Hierophant and The Star for asaello, diarmuid, fred, jamke, and ranulf! ( sorry for all the muses MAMKGMRR but at least i spare you from your full roster this time ??? )

The Hierophant: Something they believe in

Asaello: Daisy ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ No matter what kind of less-than-legal activities she might get involved in, he trusts that she’s doing it for their best interests and the sake of the orphanage even if he might hate the necessity of it and fret about what she’s gotten up to now.

Diarmuid: Being kind maybe? He believes that the world would be a more peaceful place if everyone could just make the effort to understand each other a bit more but he knows that’s a pretty naive hope that’s difficult to put into actual practice because you can’t make people care about each other. But regardless of how harsh the world is he still wants to try his best to be understanding of other people’s feelings and circumstances.

Fred: Doing what’s right regardless of the personal cost, though he’s a little more forgiving about it if there would be a great cost to others to do it, or if they’re doing wrong for the sake of others. Though it does depend on each case. He has no respect for someone like Reinhardt not doing jack shit about their corrupt Empire but he can respect Amalda staying with the Empire for her troop’s sake and the children’s sake.

Jamke: Hard work I guess. He prefers working for and feeling like he earned something as opposed to just being handed it, which is why he still feels kind of weird about being born into royalty lmao. It’s not like he begrudges people good fortune, but he does look down on people like nobles who’ve never had to work a day in their life and still get anything they want.

Ranulf: Judging people based on their own words and actions and not by stereotypes or preconceptions. I’d say that Ranulf is one of the more open-minded characters in the two games and he doesn’t see much point in holding onto resentment or fear if the other party’s already proven that there’s no reason to do so.

---

The Star: Someone they consider perfect

Asaello: People with holy blood ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ you already know this but the subkids in general buy very heavily into the “holy blood = better” mentality of Jugdral and judging by his convos Asaello is no exception. Still, I think he has the potential to adjust this view a little bit (at least in terms of seeing holy bloods as having divine right) given how many holy bloods they fight and how many of them they see conducting themselves unbecomingly of a crusader.

Diarmuid: Lachesis of course. He’ll look up to his dad too and idolize them a bit no matter which dad it is but I don’t think it’s to the same extent as his mom...he’s a mama’s boy :c He also seems to hold Eldigan in high regard but the rest of Agustria does too so :/

Fred: No one really :/ even their so-called perfect leaders showed themselves to be fallible and immoral. He thinks it’s unrealistic to expect absolute infallibility of anyone.

Jamke: Edain kinda no matter if they’re romantically involved or not. He really admires her bravery, resolve, and kindness, and her willingness to give people like him second chances. I don’t know if he sees her as someone who absolutely cannot do wrong but he really views her highly.

Ranulf: No one. The closest person would probably be Caineghis, someone he respects a lot and considers to be very strong and wise, but Ranulf isn’t someone who sees the world through rosy lenses. He’s a very down-to-earth individual who I think is capable of frankly assessing someone’s flaws as well as their good points and doesn’t expect anyone to be perfect.

#mautlie #words are all we have (replies)#;hcs #asa: hcs #diar: hcs #fred: hcs #jamke: hcs #ran: hcs #LMAO small mercies #i appreciate the chance to speak about lesser used muses tho ty

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kopzone · 5 years

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This Is for Liverpool by Andy Robertson

I need to start with a confession. Not many things bug me, but if there’s one thing that does, it’s the idea that my story is a football fairy tale.

I know when people say I’m some sort of Cinderella Man that it’s meant as a compliment. I appreciate that, but to be totally honest, it doesn’t feel like one, because it isn’t true.

No magic wands have been waved in my direction, I didn’t win some kind of lottery to land a spot on one of the biggest clubs in the world. The reason why I’m a Liverpool player is the same reason why I’m captain of my country: I’ve worked my bollocks off to get where I am, and by doing that, I’ve been able to make the most of whatever talent I have.

Why does this matter? In truth, it doesn’t matter to me as an individual. It probably doesn’t matter to my family, either. It only matters because there are God knows how many little Andy Robertsons out there. Kids who are struggling to convince people that their talent deserves an opportunity. Kids who just need a break to get to wherever they deserve to be.

Kids who might give up if they start believing that only a fairy tale can save them.

I’ve never wanted to be a poster boy, but if I’m going to be a poster boy for anything, it should be this ― if you don’t give up, and if you carry on believing in yourself when others are doubting you, you canmake it. You can show that you are good enough.

Now I’ve got two kids of my own, that message is more important than ever. I don’t want them to think that their dad got a lucky break. I need them to understand that whatever potential they have can only be fulfilled if they put their minds to it. Fairy tales? That’s bedtime stuff.

One of the best things about football is that there are loads of people like me. Most players get to the top because they are so driven. The Liverpool team that I’m a part of has no shortage of players like that.

Take Virgil van Dijk, for example, the best centre back in the world. How many coaches and scouts looked at him and thought he wasn’t destined for the top? He’ll tell you himself that there were plenty

.Mo Salah, one of the best finishers in the game today, was once discarded as not being good enough for a top Premier League side.

Jordan Henderson must have lost count of the times he has had his ability questioned – although never by anyone who has been fortunate enough to work with him – and here he is on the brink of captaining Liverpool in a second successive Champions League final.

I could go on and on, I really could. If these were all fairy tales, we’d have more than Hans Christian Andersen. They’re not, though. They are all examples of hard work and commitment making the difference.

The same applies to us as a team and to Liverpool as a club. We are where we are because of our work ethic and our belief that pretty much anything is possible. That’s the reason we were able to come back from 3–0 down against a great Barcelona team. We didn’t wait for fate to play its hand and hope that it would go in our favour, we forced fate to go our way and not even Lionel Messi, the best player I have ever set eyes on, could stop that.

Maybe there were those outside Liverpool who didn’t believe we would make it to the final. To be fair to them, they had more than enough reasons, especially after we had our arses kicked in the Nou Camp. There was something about that first leg, though, that gave us belief. We had seen enough to know that we could compete against Barcelona. The problem was that all of the decisive moments had gone against us, and we knew that with Anfield behind us, that momentum could be reversed.

If I was a sympathetic type, I’d probably feel sorry for opposition players coming to Anfield on European nights. What they’re up against is almost unfair. That intoxicating mix of history, passion and unshakable belief is a hell of an advantage to have, and that’s why Liverpool have beaten the odds on many occasions, and that’s why our supporters turn up convinced that the seemingly impossible is possible. They’ve seen it before, so why shouldn’t they expect it?

We knew that we had a chance when we were in the dressing room waiting to run out. We knew that the manager believed in us because he had told us. We knew that the supporters believed in us because we could hear them. My God, we could hear them. And, probably most important of all, we knew that we believed in ourselves and in each other.

That’s why when Divock scored in the seventh minute, I didn’t just believe. I knew. I knew what was coming — what Anfield was going to create. I hope that doesn’t sound disrespectful in any way, because I couldn’t have more respect for Barcelona, but on that night it wasn’t about them. It was about us. We were fired up by the fans and our hunger was on another level.

It hadn’t been easy to feel like that in the minutes after Messi had worked his magic in the first leg. At that stage, we felt flat, which was probably unavoidable. Although we were in Barcelona, Madrid couldn’t have felt further away. Then the manager came into the dressing room, bouncing and wearing his trademark massive smile.

“Boys, boys, boys!” he says, “We are not the best team in the world. Now you know that. Maybe they are! Who cares? Who cares! We can still beat the best team in the world. Let’s go again.”

It might have taken me a second, or maybe the entire flight back to Liverpool to believe him, but in hindsight that was the moment that changed everything for us. In football, everyone always talks about belief. Every team says they had it after a comeback. But that’s not the case at every club. It’s just not. The manager, he starts it all. He lights the touch paper and then Anfield does what it does.

I remember in the warmup, the place was jumping. It felt like everyone was on top of us, so God knows what it was like for the Barcelona lads. When Div scored so early, you could just see it in their eyes. The fans went insane. I couldn’t hear a thing. I just remember looking at Hendo, Milly and Virgil — those boys barely cracked a smile.

They just waved their arms at the crowd, as if to say, “We’re gonna go again.”

I suppose that night will go down in history. Anybody who loves this club will remember where they were, and who they were watching with. For me personally, what made it even more special was where I had come from to get there. I knew how hard it had been and I knew how, if I had listened to others, I wouldn’t have made it anywhere near Anfield that night — except maybe as a fan who wanted to understand what all the fuss was about.

I had grown up going to Celtic Park with Mum, Dad and my brother. We had four season tickets. My brother and I had Henrik Larsson posters everywhere. Legend. Absolute legend. I even had green wallpaper. Celtic was a part of our family. That’s just the way it was and the way it still is. I joined the youth team as a wee lad, just bombing around the pitch pretending I was at Celtic Park.

At the start, I actually played up top for a bit. Dad even paid me two quid a goal. I think I made £75 one season — unlike now, when I’d probably end up owing him money, seeing as I’m not exactly Salah in the scoring stakes. Over time, I found my way into midfield, and in my last season with Celtic I bounced between the middle and left side quite a bit. They’d brought in a new technical director that year and apparently I just wasn’t in the plans for whatever reason.

At my end-of-year interview, the coaches let me know they wouldn’t be bringing me back. I was 15. One year away from getting a pro contract. One year from being a proper Celtic player. But it was over, just like that, and it hurt like hell.

Mum hated to see us cry. Still does. But she saw me shed more than a few tears that day. I remember she grabbed me a takeout curry from my favourite place to try to cheer me up. It was midweek, too. I almost never got midweek curry. I couldn’t even eat much of that. That’s how she knew how bad I was hurting.

It was just gutting, but thankfully my family really had my back. They let me keep chasing my dream, even when it might have felt unrealistic to keep going. We decided to give it another go at Queens Park in 2010. Bit of a smaller club in Glasgow, to say the least. Life was different there. I was making six quid a night. It was a working-class type of club, and most players were coming from jobs they worked during the day. It was no different for me.

I did all sorts of jobs to scrape by. I got set up with landscaping gigs, I cleaned up after the first team, and I even worked down at Hampden Park during Scotland matches. My parents told me if I didn’t start to find my game that year, it’d probably be best to start looking at Uni options. So I just put everything I had into getting better every day. That was real work, real pressure.

People always ask me about the pressure of playing for Liverpool. And it’s there, trust me, I feel it. But there’s that pressure, and then there’s the pressure of playing for your life — knowing that if you can’t figure it out, you have to give up on everything you love. That’s the harshest pressure I’ve ever felt. And in that situation, I began to truly believe in myself — maybe for the first time in my life. I didn’t really have another choice.

Dundee United approached me a few years later, and that allowed me to train every day while making enough money that I didn’t need the side gigs. But I think in the end it was good for me to see what people deal with day to day, outside of the bubble of football. When I got the chance to play in the Premier League with Hull City in 2014, I had lived a lot of real life. My ambitions were always to be a solid SPL player. When I was landscaping and emptying the bins, I didn’t think I’d ever be playing Champions League football, especially for Liverpool.

It’s funny, actually … a few clubs called when I was in preseason with Hull in 2017, but I wasn’t really that interested. My missus was pregnant, and we were in the process of getting everything ready for our big arrival — that was our top priority, like any expectant parents.

Then I heard Liverpool wanted me.

Liverpool.

When you hear Liverpool want you, you call your agent back in about five seconds. I couldn’t sign the contract fast enough, to be honest.

I got a dose of reality pretty quickly, though. The medical took two days, and it was brutal. My diet was weird because the medical staff had to do so many tests to make sure I was fit and was going to stay fit. After I passed those tests, I had to go to Melwood to do a lactate test. I was running it with Danny Ings, and after a few laps around the pitch, I felt something going on with my stomach. I knew things were going to get bad, but what can you do? I just kept running. A few minutes later, I’m on my knees, puking my guts out on the Melwood pitch.

This hallowed ground. This place where all these legends have trained. King Kenny. Rushie. Stevie Gerrard. And here I am, some wee lad from Glasgow, spewing up in front of the Liverpool medical staff.

If first appearances count, God knows what they thought about me.

The next day, I met the manager and I heard his laugh from a mile away. He’d obviously heard about my test. I turn around and he’s walking toward me, rubbing his belly and pointing at me. The staff behind him are having a laugh, too.

Then he gave me a big hug. After that, I relaxed a bit.

The whole squad made me feel welcome that week, but honestly, it took a really long time for it to sink in that I was a Liverpool player. I wore the red shirt. I wore the club tracksuit everywhere we went. I was wearing it around the house. But I still didn’t feel like a Liverpool player.

I was in and out of the lineup for quite a few months. And the system we play is so complex, I was working so hard in training to learn it all, to understand what the manager wanted from his fullbacks. When I wouldn’t see my name on the teamsheet, my belief in myself started to dip. It did. But all my experiences in life, and the tough times I went through at Celtic and Queens Park, it taught me to be patient.

So I would just come back to training every day and try to catch the manager’s eye by working harder than everyone else. Eventually, he noticed. I think he was just waiting for me to get it — to feel like a Liverpool player and have that confidence. And when I slotted into the lineup, I was ready.

Our supporters have been incredible to me since I got here. And last year they really carried us all the way to the final whistle and beyond in Kiev. That night was hard, and I don’t think you ever really get over a match like that. You just live with it. That night, I remember the silence in our dressing room, I remember the painful flight home. And I remember hearing “You’ll Never Walk Alone” after the final whistle.

The supporters still sang their hearts out, and that sticks with you.

We got back to Melwood at four in the morning, and the manager gave us all a hug and told us how proud he was of our team. And he also told us that we’d be back. Somehow, after a very long road … after being down 0–3 to bloody Barcelona … he was right.

We are back.

It’s not lost on any of us what this opportunity means. This has been an incredible season, full of so many ups and downs and emotional moments. But for me, it’s also been a chance to take a step back and see the full picture. From being released by Celtic and sobbing over my curry, to making six quid a night grinding away in Scotland, to signing for Liverpool and putting on that red tracksuit, barely believing it.

It feels good to have another crack at this final. Nobody deserves it more than our supporters, who have backed us through the good times and the heartbreak. But like us, they will know that we are up against a top side in Spurs. Mauricio Pochettino and his players will be just as determined as we are to do something special in a final like this.

The thing that matters most is that our fate is in our hands. We know that. And if there’s one thing I can guarantee about this team, about this group of players, it’s that we will stop at nothing to try to make our supporters’ dream come true.

If that does happen, it won’t be a fairy tale.

It’ll be because we deserve it.

#andy robertson #lfc #liverpool fc #long post

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flowerfan2 · 5 years

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Affinity, Ch. 3

McDanno, A03, 10.03

A continuous story of season 10 episode codas. Steve may describe their relationship as a dysfunctional marriage, but at some point, will he and Danny take a closer look at what it really could be?

Note: this is a new coda series, a separate story from my H50 season 9 coda series Bound To Be Together.

Chapter 3

Danny knows, intellectually, that jealousy is a bad thing. He remembers how Rachel’s jealousy of his old partner wore away at the fabric of their marriage, and made Danny feel like Rachel didn’t trust him. A few years ago Danny had a bout of jealousy when Lou joined Five-0 and Steve partnered with him for a while, but it calmed down when Will and Grace started dating – there was nothing like endless debates over whose turn it was to drive Grace and Will to the movies or what was a reasonable time of night to demand they stop texting to humanize a guy.

Quinn is different. She’s a badass cop with McGarrett-level chutzpah, she’s beautiful and funny and fearless, and she looks alarmingly like Catherine – who, for reasons that still keep Danny up at night – was the love of Steve’s life. And now she’s on the team.

Thing is, Danny knows he needs to get over it. Because jealously is poison. Being jealous of Steve’s time with Quinn says more about Danny than it does about either of them. He doesn’t like it, but he’s suffered through enough sessions with therapists to recognize insecurity when it thumps him on the nose.

It’s not Quinn’s fault, precisely, that she’s come into Steve’s world. Danny’s just used to being Steve’s MVP. He can’t help being a little perturbed that Steve’s attention is drawn to this rather sexy shiny new toy.

(“Squirrel,” he whispered to Tani yesterday when Quinn came into the office and Steve immediately perked up. Tani choked on her coffee.)

People do stupid things when they’re jealous. Danny knows this from experience. He’s made sure to be just as friendly to Quinn as he would to anyone else new to the group, he’s even mostly genuine about it. She’s pretty easy to get along with, her confidence even more compelling than her looks. Maybe Danny has a type, too.

He also tries not to overreact to Steve’s stories about Quinn, that she speaks Kurdish like some kind of super-spy, that she’s crazy good in the field. Danny’s good in the field, too. He’s had Steve’s back for almost a decade, and the goof is still alive, so that has to mean something.

Danny wants to follow Steve home, to pick him up for work every day, to stick to his side all day long. To keep him from finding out more irresistible facts about Quinn. But that’s as unrealistic as it is unhealthy. The team doesn’t work that way, not anymore. They switch up partners as their cases demand, they rotate days off. Danny’s not entitled to Steve’s unwavering attention.

Quinn even likes the way Steve drives.

Danny’s fucked.

Danny takes Junior to the range one day after work. Tani raises an eyebrow as they leave the office, but she doesn’t ask to come along. Junior is perhaps the easiest member of the team to be with these days, when it comes to just needing to let off some steam and not talking about anything except the job. Lou has other things on his mind (and worrying about kids away at school is not going to help Danny’s state of mind right now), and Tani, well, Tani knows him too well.

Shooting at things that aren’t shooting back helps a little. He absolutely does not imagine that Quinn is the target, that would be deranged and terrible and way beyond the pale. But he does imagine himself heroically taking out the big bad, solving the case, and rescuing Steve just in the nick of time. Maybe getting one of those wide-eyed looks, and a breathless “thanks, Danno” as a grateful Steve clings to Danny for a long moment before Danny wraps an arm around his waist and hauls him to safety.

Junior strokes Danny’s ego a bit as they shoot, and they grab a beer afterwards. It’s bittersweet, these moments when it becomes clear that Danny is playing the role of mentor, edging closer to retirement every day. He and Steve haven’t broached that subject lately, not since they got out of the restaurant business.

As Danny’s dropping Junior off at Tani’s afterwards, Junior thanks him and then pauses, a hand reaching out to pat Danny awkwardly on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, man,” Junior says. “Steve might be dating Brooke, but you guys will always be mom and dad to us.”

<i>Brooke,</i> Danny thinks, practically banging his head against the steering wheel as Junior walks away. Is that who Junior thinks he’s upset about? Not that he isn’t still a little annoyed about Brooke, but it’s one thing for Steve to be dating – that’s expected, it’s normal. It might bother Danny deep down where he shuts away thoughts that he doesn’t let himself think, but as long as Steve isn’t prattling on about breaking up with him, he can handle Steve dating. That was last week’s crisis.

No, Quinn is his current problem, and a whole different ballgame than Brooke. Quinn is in Danny’s territory, every day, a part of the team. There’s no escaping her. Brooke may have been taking Danny’s place in his imaginary platonic marriage with Steve, but Quinn threatens his actual place in Steve’s life.

Is Danny scared that Quinn could replace him completely in Steve’s life? He tells himself it’s dumb to feel that way. He and Steve are ‘ohana. Steve knows Danny better than almost anyone ever has, and Danny’s pretty sure it goes both ways. They’ve been through years and years of unbelievable shit together, put their lives on the line for each other. Steve <i>loves</i> Danny, in his own protective way. But damn it to hell, Danny’s still scared.

Danny gets home and pours himself another beer. He’s a pathetic mess. It’s his lot in life to be afraid all the time, sure, he’s used to it. But all this seems like too much right now. Quinn’s hitting him right where it hurts, and she hasn’t even thrown a punch.

Suddenly there’s a knock at his door, and Danny startles. He gives himself a quick once-over – he’s still in his work slacks and button-down, no tell-tale beer stains on his shirt – and answers the door.

“I’ve been texting you forever, why didn’t you answer?” Steve barrels inside, plops himself on the couch and makes himself comfortable. “Thought you were coming to my house to watch the game.”

Danny pulls out his phone and confirms, yeah, there are three texts from Steve. Apparently Danny missed them, too busy stuck in his own pity party. “Sorry, I lost track of time.”

Steve stretches out his legs and crosses his ankles on the coffee table. “Wanna order pizza? I’m starving.”

Danny sits down next to Steve and sends in their usual order. Steve has brought some chips, and he’s eating them messily, offering the bag to Danny every few minutes, whining about the fact that Danny’s refrigerator doesn’t keep beer as cold as he likes it.

After they eat, Steve gets up to toss the pizza box in the trash, and returns to the couch with more beer. He flops himself down lengthwise and sticks his feet in Danny’s lap. Danny pretends to be appalled at how stinky they are (they’re not particularly, but they are feet, so they don’t smell like roses either), and pokes at his ticklish spots until Steve moves.

A minute later Steve’s sitting up, crowding into Danny’s space to show him the latest picture Grace sent him, and that launches them into a familiar conversation about who Grace likes best. Steve finally settles, shoulder leaning against Danny’s, feet crossed next to his on the coffee table.

It’s all completely, wonderfully normal.

Maybe Danny doesn’t have as much to worry about as he feared.

#H50 #Hawaii Five-0 #Hawaii Five-0 fic #Danny Williams #Quinn Liu #Steve McGarrett #my fic

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fmdminaharchive · 4 years

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❧ hopefully sky (pt. 2).

date(s): february/march 2020 mentions of: n/a word count: 824 (without lyrics) warnings: n/a details: part 2/2, lyrics verification for hopefully sky. aka minah writes a song about the springtime against her better judgment. because surely bc isn’t gonna let her release a song this short notice right? (except that they do).

“what if i want to write about spring?” minah asks when she visits the producer in the studio as he’s working on a proper recording of the instrumental.

“then you write a song about spring.” the man responds simply, shrugging his shoulders, not looking up from his mixing board.

“it’s almost spring already. if i write a song about spring now, i will never be able to release it this year.” minah shoots back exasperatedly. it’s not even sure if she will be allowed to release the song at all but it’s what she is aiming for, it’s what she’s been working so hard for the entire time. should she really be willing to jeopardize that all by writing the wrong lyrics?

“you can’t write a song for that reason.” the producer points out as he turns his chair to face her. “you have to write it because you want to write it, not because the company wants to hear it.”

minah wants to protest, wants to comment that surely, the man has made many of songs just because the company asked him to do so but he is already helping her without having any reason to do so. she couldn’t repay that kindness with being rude to him.

“i’ll think about it.” minah sighs as she gets up from her seat to head out, other schedules awaiting her, official ones that had actually been instilled on her by the company.

“don’t overthink it yeah?” the producer offers as a last piece of advice as minah is about to leave the studio. “and who knows, maybe if the song is good enough bc will make it happen on short notice.”

it sounds unrealistic, even to minah who likes to pride herself for always looking at the bright side of things but nonetheless, it motivates her enough to try.

➽───────────────❥

this time, minah actually goes on that walk before she even sits down and attempts to write. she might as well save herself the suffering she went through last time and skip the part where she sits down and expects it all to come together by itself.

it’s not a miracle solution, it doesn’t make the words flow automatically when she does eventually sit down at the kitchen island of her apartment with the same notepad in front of her but it does ease the process, makes it easier to start writing bits and pieces, more random reference material than anything else, things from her walk that she wants to somehow incorporate in the song.

maybe, spring is the very first she writes down in big, bold letters but really, who is keeping count.

after that first thinking exercise, actual lyrics follow. minah pieces them together as she plays the recorded audio of the instrumental on her phone, humming the words softly under her breath over and over again until they feel right, until they fit.

i comfort you, i love you with your song

the onomatopoeia’s that follow the chorus are initially written to be temporary, to be replaced when something more fitting comes to mind but for the time being, minah leaves them as they are, to be rewritten when she’s finished the verses.

(she’ll only end up removing the ones that will turn in what will eventually be the bridge, the rest remaining and becoming a key-point to the song, an extension to the chorus, but as she writes them, minah doesn’t know that yet)

with such a big part of the structure outlined, writing the verses goes much more easily, filling them in with stories she wants to share, messages she wants to get across.

some of which she doesn’t even know that she wants to get them across until they fall from her lips in a quiet hum.

dad where do i go so i can live like your heart did

it surprises minah herself a little, to write about her father, a man she hasn’t spoken to in years, not since her parents’ divorce. but she doesn’t want to take it out, contrary, she ends up adding more.

dad don’t get weak i’m thankful even if i have to walk in the rain

the music helps her put her feelings into words, to make peace with a situation she struggled to understand as a child. but she no longer is a child, she’s a grown woman, one that can see a situation from two sides rather than sticking to the perspective that belonged to her mother.

minah doesn’t dwell on it after the words end up on her paper. just because it’s a part of the song, doesn’t mean it’s all it’s about and with that thought in the back of her mind, minah continues to fill in the missing gaps, to write it together into a cohesive whole.

and with the last few changes, the last few errors fixed, minah completes the first song she ever writes, all by herself.

skywatcher staring blankly into the sky

she doesn’t know if it’s good enough for bc, to allow her to release it, especially on short notice, but it’s something she’s proud of. perhaps that’s worth much more.

#fmdverification #*:･ﾟ♔– «am i the only one who remembers» // solos.#«hopefully sky // era.»

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talix18 · 5 years

Text

November 2

I just want a word processing program. I'm not trying to be difficult. A word processing program that will estimate for me how many words I've written. Which requires a computer Operating System to run said program, preferably with an Internet connection in case there are updates to said program. The computer on which I'm typing this is an unknown number of years old. I know I got it when my ex lived with me, and he's been dead for several years.

That's a hazard of loving people in recovery, especially from drug addiction as opposed to alcoholism. The drugs out there are not those of your elders and they are nowhere near as forgiving of overdoses. My ex became my ex when he relapsed. A couple of years later he got some fentanyl with his heroin and it killed him. Drugs are bad, mmkay?

Anyway, the computer. I am...working with an OS that's 10 years old and have 6 gigs of RAM. (That's before I stuck my 2 gig thumb drive in to use as extended memory.) I'm clearly fighting hard for something to write about here. I'd rather get this done early in the day so I don't have to dread it, but writing about myself is almost as tedious as being myself.

Today is a good day, so far. I made it out the door to yoga and got my eyebrows done on the way home. Eyebrow waxing is my only consistent beauty practice. I'd like to keep up with my hair and not just put it up wet every day but let's face it – I'm stingy with my time and money and can't commit to something eight weeks from now. My hair is going gray and makes me look my actual age, which I alternately don't care about and am horrified by. Now I have extra guilt doing home color – my adopted niece graduated from Paul Mitchell hair school and would happily accept my money for getting to practice on my head, but she's located just far enough away to be inconvenient.

Plus getting out of bed is hard enough. I'll gladly take 15 extra minutes to check the Internet that will still be there when I get to work over putting on make-up and drying my hair. Is this about depression, laziness, or feminist resistance to society's expectations? I'd like to have fun with my appearance and my wardrobe but dammit – do I have to start so bless-ed early in the morning?

(This whole “early in the morning thing” is BS, by the way. I learned how quickly I can get myself showered, dressed, and out the door at my most depressed and now resist any attempt to plan further in advance.) Yes, I want to look nice in pictures but I don't want to do the work necessary to achieve that.

This is a theme in my life – there's a lot of things I want to do and be without taking any of the steps that might lead me in the correct direction. Sometimes it's a question of not knowing what those steps might be. Recovery has blessed me with the crazy notion of finding someone who has (or knows how to do) something you want (to know how to do) and ask them how they did it. I'm not sure if this is as mind-blowing to everyone as it was to me. It may be one of those things that falls into the category of “it feels like I missed some fundamental How To Be A Person class that everyone else took.”

This is a common feeling among recovering people. None of us feels like we fit in; everyone else knows something we don't; we are missing some fundamental quality that would have made life fall neatly into place. (Which brings me to the topic of the people who just needed to put the drugs down and be pointed in a productive direction vs. people who are still disasters clean. Guess which group I fall into.) Which reminds me! Last night the Internet gave me the link to an article in Oprah's magazine that describes the midlife-crisis currently hitting the women of Generation X. So this here writing project? Completely unnecessary. But I've set this challenge for myself and I love no motivation like shame and guilt. So I'll keep writing and see what I end up with.

Where was I? Oh – the things I want without wanting to do the work to get them. I've always wanted to play guitar but only enough to take a handful of lessons. My last attempt was valiant – I bought myself a beautiful guitar and showed up pretty consistently for group lessons at a friend's house. After a few months, there was pain in my strumming arm almost constantly. Especially painful were things like gripping the scoop I use to clean litter boxes, which is a thing I try to do every day. I went through physical therapy twice before the pain went away, and it's still not completely gone. My intention is to go to the adorable guitar shop where I bought my guitar (where they also give lessons) and ask someone (who knows how to do something I want to know how to do) if there is a way I should be doing it differently. That has been my intention for many months now.

What is it? What is the problem? 1. Think of a thing to do. 2. DO THE THING. That's it, right? There's not some 1.5 secret step I'm missing? There must be. Unless this is that executive function thing they talk about? There are the things I know I want to do (currently: clearing out yet more of my wardrobe so I can get rid of my TWO broken dressers [why do I have two broken dressers?] and acquire a new piece of storage for my clothing; taking my books off the bookshelves so they can be moved and I can get new flooring and also get rid of some books)(besides the regular stuff like exercise and eat foods that make me look and feel good and learn how to program and garden and oh maybe clean my damn house) and there is the crushing lack of motivation and energy.

(I'm thinking this whole NaNoWriMo thing coincided with an increase in the dosage of one of my meds which has given me a temporary “up” sensation? Like I sat through my laptop trying to repair itself so I could write rather than wandering off and doing something [or nothing] else. Honestly, me getting a thing done sooner rather than later is not a thing. I still haven't emptied the litter boxes from yesterday.)

(It occurs to me at this point to wonder if my expectations aren't set unrealistically high. Hi, my name is Teri and I was in Gifted & Talented classes and was told I had Such Potential, and have done no impressive or soul-fulfilling thing with my life. Welcome to my expectations. Not to mention this existential dread that I didn't even have words for until college when I took philosophy and learned that existentialism is a thing. This is my ONE opportunity to be alive and ultimately the only rules are those I choose to follow and This is what I've done with it? This is my life?)

(Which brings me to capitalism, specifically late-stage capitalism. I was born to the grandchildren of farmers and immigrants without the financial means to pick and choose which hobbies would distract me from my inescapable death. I watched my mother survive two divorces and [unbeknownst to myself] decided that I would be able to take care of myself. I wouldn't depend on anyone else for lodging or food or miscellaneous entertainments; I would do it myself. [This has a lot to do with why I am Single. Unmarried. Don't get too close – you may offer to take care of me and I might weaken and let you and then my guard will be down and then life will have me where it wants me.]

Late-stage capitalism. In which I, a consumer, trade my time and energy for money, which I then trade for comfort, convenience, and distraction from the awareness of my inescapable death. Knowing that, sooner or later, NONE OF THIS WILL MATTER bumps up against my desire to look younger and be attractive and matter in some absolute sense. I have a “safe” government job [thanks, Dad] with good insurance which is a Big Deal when you have a chronic condition like mental illness. I have a small home, a car that's paid for and still runs, and two cats for whom I am responsible. That there are no children is partly on purpose; partly because I never wanted to be a single mom, and partly because I didn't meet their other parent while I was young and foolish enough to consider parenting.)

Where was I? Expectations. In recovery, expectations are set-ups for resentments. Hmm. I may have to think about that. If nothing matters, expectations are silly. There are no shoulds. There Is No Way To Derive An Ought From An Is. (My favoritest of all the things I learned in philosophy.) Except that my best idea, recreational drug use, got me in legal trouble, put everyone else at risk, and (now that they know about it) makes my loved ones worry about my health and well-being. So it benefits all of us that I remain clean. And it increases the likelihood that I'll stay clean if I treat my mental illness, which requires (in this ever more dystopian hellscape) money and/or insurance. Which requires a job. Which is easier to maintain if I have a safe place to sleep and food and clothing. All of which requires effort to maintain. We haven't even mentioned recycling and volunteering and staying informed about the current state of the ever more dystopian hellscape. There are a lot of plates to keep spinning, despite the fact that eventually they are all going to shatter and it won't ultimately matter to anyone who will endure. (Existentialism is heavy.)

But haha! Daily word count achieved! Now I can get my active minutes in (exercise boosts both physical and mental health) and figure out how much time I have before I need to be where I'm supposed to be next. Because social activities and meetings make living more meaningful. Lather, rinse, repeat.

#nanowrimo #f**k fifty

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lovedinapastlife · 5 years

Text

3x11 “The Red Dahlia” - Riverdale Reaction

Somebody ought to go in these handcuffs, and I happen to think it should be whoever approved this episode.

Let’s be clear...even if this episode was filmed in black and white, it probably still would have been the garbled, sleep-deprived ramblings of writing room edits as opposed to a compelling narrative about dames with dubious intentions and secrets to kill for. For me, at least.

I love how Betty still judges the hell outta Hal for his malevolent appreciation of a woman with a body count.

Archie “the Hulk” Andrews. Nobody likes him when he’s angry. This poor overseer even has to fight with people about TAKING A BREAK. Eat a sandwich, Archie! Maybe you’re hangry on top of needing therapy.

Veronica calling out the temporary fabulous gesture of flowers from Elio and demanding precious jewels. Pretty RICH, considering she got Bettykins flowers and cupcakes in s1e1. That is growth. Maybe.

“We all had problems, and a helluva good-looking one was about to walk through my door.” Anyone else expecting a Pop’s delivery?

I had to sigh. I know, I know it’s just the poor attempt at Noir language, but Jughead mocks her hat like two seconds later and I’m sure certain shippers were squeeing as I squinted at the general tolerance these two have for each other. He likes the $ and opportunity to play detective with Nancy Drew. V likes results. That’s it. Business partners. Woo.

Go, Fred! You PARENT your child! Aaaaand there he goes to take shots at a speakeasy. Well. You tried.

Is Thornhill big enough to have its own funeral parlor AND cemetery? Just makes it easier to hide the murder victims and suicides, I guess! This is at LEAST the second wake-ish thing they’ve hosted here. Weird family. Sorry you’re related, Betty.

Not sure why Cheryl is SO offended by the insinuation that her prostitute/murderer/sent-her-to-conversion-camp mom is dangerous. I thought Penelope was kicked out anyway? Nana Rose is my new favorite Blossom murderer for the weird line implying that she finds pretending to cry over her son/a man is a waste of time.

Did they seriously make cutoff vests with the Serpents insignia for the “TOO-WARM-TO-MOVE-A-BODY” weather, and yet dress Jughead in a SHERPA JACKET? I know he’s an “outsider,” but COME ON.

“MOBSPLAIN” - only on this show. Also, the line about it being “unrealistic” made me laugh. This show is such a cheeky bastard. Love watching V make grown men stand up straighter.

SMITHERS! Didn’t even recognize him at first. This kinda works? But I’m confused. Is V just...doing the shakedowns now? And she doesn’t see the issue with that? Got kinda creepy Daddy Issue vibes when she smiled at Reggie and called him Man in Black. I know WHY she did and it probably wasn’t meant to be creepy, I just FELT it, okay?

THEY’RE SO SOFT I’M GONNA DIE! The little back-rub? The cutie heart-eyes? I’m dying. But the writing was silly here, because Betty is all ABOUT investigating, and would totally help Jughead break in and have his back for sleuthing shenanigans with plenty of time for her thing. Also Betty seemed bemused/unimpressed at discovering the super over-the-top Maple Sex Club (THIS SHOW) whereas Jughead seemed totally unaffected. They have a more impressive setup at home, I presume.

Josie shoving Archie in a cold shower and telling him to sort his shenanigans was probably the most fun thing she’s ever done. And she wears cat ears and fancy outfits on the regular, so that’s saying something. Also, don’t they only serve mocktails at the speakeasy? Or am I not supposed to remember that?

Honestly? Most of this episode from about halfway on gets...expositional and boring and just a bunch of blackmail stalemates that do not further character, plot, relationships, nor aesthetic. Boo. Booooo! Unsatisfying stalemates don’t get better as a plot device because you acknowledge them at the end! Even Jughead’s narration was a hard cringe.

Like, did anyone think Kelly Ripa was gonna shoot Jughead? Or that he would be obnoxious enough to juggle the egg super awkwardly instead of getting ready to smash the thing as a threat? Just...no interesting conflict. Nor resolution. These actors could’ve used better staging and script, and honestly even the cinematography was unimpressive with a few exceptions (Archie’s shadow-pan to aiming the gun at the hooded man was one).

Jughead keeps shoving all his money into other people’s hands in bribery and I find that extremely problematic for many reasons. As was Betty’s later monologue about “black and white” morality with Hal. Sigh.

Minetta was alive? Who was dismembered then? Random goon #42? Is being a mayor in Riverdale just a cover for f***ing the Sheriff?

DOUBLE-TAP, MAN. Or headshot! FP’s been around this stuff enough where he should’ve gotten this right! After that whole “I’m not a killer” speech to Jughead back in season one, I just kind of rolled my eyes during this scene and went, “Sure.”

Aw, people keep trying to beat Archie to the punch...and the shot! (HA. The puns...I digress). The “atmosphere-building” monologue beforehand and lying to V indicates he might be on the path...to VILLAINY! (again) But maybe now he has some Black Hood closure. Some.

“Thank goodness it’s over” -- me, about this episode. Love the contrast of Hermione’s flimsy white trench coat though. Is Falice still a thing? Or was the one scene for fan service and now their duty is done?

Veronica: And Archie...if you ever need a friend...to talk to...

GET ON ANOTHER SHOW, because this episode only has time for dastardly plots and random sex scandals! (although I will accept a spinoff Bughead romantic detective show ANY TIME now) I realize everyone has their own agenda, but come on. Throw us a milkshake, here. At least Hiram will stop trying to kill the poor teenager. Archie, to be clear. Jughead is probably still on the table.

They literally had to write “In case you’d forgotten” in Jughead’s narration before returning to a scene. Wow. The narrative.

Ugh. Hermione. That cleanup is going to be a MESS. Shoulda shot him in the shower.

This is the second time Jughead’s been in the awkward position of his dad shooting a classmate’s dad. Oh well. “It’s Riverdale.”

That Bughead sex scene teased in the next episode better be good after this week’s shenanigans.

#riverdale reaction #riverdale react #3.11 #riverdale 3x11 #riverdale #riverdale season 3 #the red dahlia

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pretty-prince-lulu · 5 years

Text

part 12: construction, gotta go fast, festivities and onerous mistakes

We begin by decorating the workshop with Sekhmet’s ill-gotten gains

these various items were given to him during the gift-giving party that we met little miss spooky eyes at. They do not suit our aesthetic in the slightest, but we’re keeping all of it.

The small boy’s room is adjusted to suit said small boy, now that he’s grown up enough to be able to shit independently.

We are really reaching the point where this house just isn’t big enough, however. It may be time to throw in everything Mimi has earned and make some improvements.

This comes up out of nowhere. I don’t need to have seen it to have realised why.

Why does this keep fucking happening? I NEVER get robbed in this game, but this one house has the bat signal on that just screams ‘steal my shit’. Why?

Majora goes about her usual duty with neither mirth nor reluctance

and the would-be thief wisely fucks off before any cats piss on her shoes

Bubba won’t stop meowing and waking Davin up. Turns out he’s caught a case of the fleas, so it’s flea wash time. The cats in this game are UNREALISTICALLY amenable to this, by the way. Last time I had to wash the kitten he sounded like he was channeling his displeased poltergeist ancestors.

Ooh... an opportunity. Except with the snow cover, she can’t reach any of the non-flying bugs beneath it. That seems like an oversight on... somebody’s part. Kind of forced to wait until spring sprungs.

Patterns, meanwhile, goes about entering her first race.

The stage is set. It’s time to nyoom.

I SAID IT’S TIME TO NYOOM. MUCH BETTER.

Of COURSE we win. it’s a fucking unicorn. Thing goes half the speed of light.

A trophy for the mantle!

This is cause for celebration. With crossed eyes, and gratuitous inclusion of a unicorn’s ass.

OH, YES! IT’S THAT DAY. The derp shows no signs of abating, meanwhile.

I figure that’s the trait most likely to help, at least, with the Riding skill.

Now, to dress her. I might give her a proper refresh, into adulthood. This is always the fun part: What arrangement says ‘A horsewoman settled into the patterns and expectations of humanity, but still a creature of boundless imagination and wonder?’

...God I love my taste in things.

Let’s go with where our strengths already are.

Our unicorn makes the same conclusion in the moment.

He wants to GO FAST and DO BLESSINGS!

Of course, the imaginary friend is the exact same age as the boy who imagined her. At the same time, across town, there’s more confetti:

I don’t feel like any other trait would have suited him, truly.

Now to dress him. ‘Animal-loving young man with ambitions of being the next big musical thing’. Inspiration, go!

It’ll do for the minute. Might pattern the shirt- would it be too busy with the jacket? Hmm.

He sure has kept Daddy’s square face. I kind of love that, though. Any kid from these two is going to be most mighty of jawline.

Mimi’s opportunity moves along. DAMN IT. Now we have to garden. Not ordinarily a problem, and she has enough skill, but it’s still too cold for jack shit to grow. How annoying.

A FUCKEN NOISE IS HEARD while I’m looking elsewhere.

This one gets chased off before I see him properly.

Seriously? How many times is this? Five? WHAT DO I EVEN HAVE THAT’S SO VALUABLE?

Completely unrelated: Hannah and Bubba are cute as fuck.

Davin’s old friend from high school. And she has a point! Plans are made.

Outfits are donned. Even Ectoplasmic Fantastic Dad!

AND NOBODY COMES! FUCKEN DESTROYED FROM ORBIT LMAO

Not even the girl who suggested the fucking party oh my god. his face. what a goddamn entire-ass mood

Well, onto your career, since absolutely nobody wants to celebrate with you before your wedding. We’ll approach a proprietor and askJESUS FUCK.

Okay, so maybe they -are- using the bin genetics. But why are they propagating from the transformed states of the werewolves? She’s not a werewolf, I checked, but I can’t think of anything else with that face morphology. (Also, THAT, I presume, is why werewolves can’t do the baby-making frick frack while transformed... for all that it’s helped her. Though... really, I like it. So much better than the shitty default boring-ass people.)

Well- first, he has to pick a stage name. I forgot about that. What’s the default suggestion?

pftttttbAHAAHAHAHAHA!

Okay that’s too stupid NOT to choose

same energy

Okay! onto the humiliating march that is DOOR TO DOOR SONG AND DANCE.

The first job is taken. Off we go.

He opens the door, only for the client’s Scooby-Doo esque dog to barrel him up like he’s robbed a bank. He would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for you and your meddling spare-parts-cat. Seriously, that cat looks like whatever was left at the end of the cat printing session all taped together.

Unfortunately, the song cannot be performed, for the lady that placed the order for her party only has one option selectable.

Seems she threw a party, got off the phone, and immediately went into labour while her husband was at work.

This is not in Davin’s contract, but he IS a good egg. Time to step in, then.

Scoobs is still offended. Mother-to-be just wants to party. She probably should have thought of that before doing the dance with no pants.

no, no, it’s no trouble. (One does hope you’re still planning to tip the boy, mind...)

...Her husband still hasn’t shown up, it appears, so Davin seems to be accompanying her all the way to the goddamned delivery room. Can’t reasonably leave her alone, can he?

No, the ‘guest’ hasn’t arrived yet, actually...

Oh! Yay!

-applauds in queer-

First time I’ve seen that! Maybe I should tweak the algorithms on sexualities, mind you. I think it’s on something low like 10%/20%/70% bi, gay and straight respectively. In practice, it means the same-sex pool is shallow enough that most of the exclusively gay sims don’t seem to dating very often. 20/30/50, maybe, so everyone’s got a chance at romance? I’ll think about it later.

Also, shout out to Tennille. Now we know why you suggested the bachelor party.

Mom discusses her profession with the small boy. Nobody’s yet noticed that Davin’s out upsettingly late, yet. Might as well take this opportunity to expand our house a little, though, while there’s fewer bodies on the lot to shift out of the way of rearrangements.

Here we are! We’ve got shit for yard, but we weren’t using that anyway, and Menefer needs space to move. That’s not quite double the size, but it’s close!

In addition to two large as-yet empty chambers on the left, the back and right side are expanded by one block each. Doesn’t sound like much, but there is so, so much more space in practice. It was more than a little cramped in here.

The kitchen is markedly less squashy as well, and there’s actually space to fart in the laundry room. Fart space is important.

The time ticks on. It gets later and later.

Either that’s bullshit, or

I am EXTREMELY curious and concerned about what’s happening in that delivery room. They really have been in there for a LONG fucking time at this point.

He’s feeling both the pressure and the undeserved shame of it all.

Aaron, we appreciate your patronage, but the Sing-A-Gram boy seems to be wrist-deep in the crotch of a girl he just met. Your ‘yay I did an exercise!’ pat on the ass might have to wait.

Mimi collects the mail.

... He’s really very persistent, but we’re happily married.

At the mailbox, she samples her own wares, drinking a Vial of Bliss.

What the FUCK is happening in that delivery room? Whatever. It’s late. Mimi goes to bed.

This is really, REALLY not a couple I expected to end up actually cute. Nor did I expect to get attached to this particular old man, and yet, here we are. Sketchy, but I still ship it.

Time ticks on. He’s STILL stuck in there.

What are you doing in there, kid? Building a lego rocket ship? Make your god damned appearance!

Finally. FINALLY. And then, I make an executive fucking decision.

When a strange boy steps up for you, you honor that god damned kid appropriately!

Davin’s been doing... that, Mimi’s been making potions, Dexter’s been studying logic and mathematics (nerd), Dad’s been practicing his charisma and Patterns has been racing her unicorn. Not much happens until the next evening, because everyone needs to catch up on sleep.

There, I take the opportunity to deck out our new hall of general festivities.

Not fully finished, but that’s the general idea. The wedding arch can be stuffed into the family inventory when we’re not preparing for a wedding, of course- the rest in here is multipurpose.

Oh, we know! And we’ve got PLANS!

While we’re setting up, Davin’s finally able to get some actual work in.

He is a braver man than I.

A popup appears amongst it. I’m always nervous when it does. What happens if the mother reaches shuffle-off-the-coil age, for a start? Maybe I should disable it, but I’m not sure yet.

A Sing-A-Gram is delivered to Francis next. The son of those two, incidentally.

... oh. oh dear.

mmm whatcha saaaaay

and you just smile and say you’re fine but you’re not fine

where have I seen this scene before. Oh yes

Once stuffing his brains back into his skull WITHOUT the help of a kindly stranger, davin goes about one more job for the evening.

that is the boredest I’ve ever seen a motherfucker who was within pissing distance of an entire-ass shark. some people you just can’t impress.

YEAH, WE KNOW! We’re almost ready.

The full moon has risen. The house is full- FULL- of cat ghosts. They have heard the lunar call.

Unrelated, god I wish I could tell walls to get fucked like this kid can.

A SPECTRAL YOWLING IS HEARD.

Mom is getting her fuck on. The ghost of Fitz has some FUCKING OPINIONS about some stranger he never met in life boinking his Mama. For this, the laundry hamper must pay.