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malecsecretsanta · 3 years

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Merry Christmas, skylar102!

For @skylar102. I was overjoyed to see your likes included crack fic - which is exactly what I bring you this Christmas. You may recognise the concept and some of the scenes chosen for this fic. What can I say? You’re a very inspiring person!I hope I did the idea justice and that you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 Much love,Your Secret Santa <3

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*****

Alec Lightwood: The Musical

Rolling drums accompanied him as he ran down the corridor, the sounds of woodwind and strings building as he drew closer to the doorway where he’d heard the commotion. The music drew him in and honed his focus, preparing him for the fight ahead. He strode through the doorway to find an unknown Warlock fending off a Circle member.

The Warlock was tall, almost as tall as Alec. Slender, with figure hugging clothing that hinted at the strong physique beneath. His hair was styled tall and striking, his outfit designed to draw attention. Clearly it was working, as Alec sucked in a shuddering breath. He couldn’t quite explain what he was feeling, but now wasn’t the time to let emotions cloud his judgement.

At that moment, the music broke, a scratching interlude cutting through the air and causing him to wince slightly before giving way to a new song. Alec narrowed his eyes, focussing his stare up at the corner of the room as if he could glare the speakers into submission. As if there were actual speakers there. He sighed and tried to block out the beeping and clapping, focussing instead on the Circle member in front of him.

He scoffed slightly, the arrogant Shadowhunter forgetting all his training in favour of taunting a warlock and not even noticing Alec was there. His limp grip on his seraph blade designed to look intimidating rather than actually being deadly as he waved it mockingly in front of his foe. Holding back an eye roll, Alec raised his bow, taking careful aim and loosing an arrow straight at the man’s heart.

Or he would have had the insipid voice echoing in the room not started moaning in a frankly inappropriate way, distracting him.

You got me trippin', stumblin', flippin', fumblin'

Clumsy 'cause I'm fallin' in love (in love)

This wasn’t a song he knew. Usually, in moments like this, whatever higher power decided to curse him with a personal playlist at least chose swelling instrumentals, epic and strong in their crescendos, that helped him focus on the fight - like the song that had been rudely interrupted by… Well, this. Today, apparently someone wanted to taunt him with the kind of music Izzy liked to dance around her room to.

He snapped back to attention as the Circle member yelled in pain, Alec’s arrow piercing his thigh instead. It wasn’t a lethal shot but at least it was enough to drop him to his knees, clutching the wound in agony and cutting off his frankly tedious monologue.

The warlock conjured a ball of electric blue energy, circling his hands to shape it before pushing it forwards into the rogue Shadowhunter, his shoulders flexing elegantly under the patterned material of his jacket. The circle member collapsed backwards, completely incapacitated or possibly even dead.

“Well done.” Alec almost immediately chastised himself internally for the dumb statement. As if a powerful warlock couldn’t take down a wounded Shadowhunter with ease.

Can't breathe, when you touch my sleeve

Butterflies so crazy, ummm, ummm

Whoa now? Think I'm goin' down

Friends don't know what's with me, mmm, mmm

“More like medium rare,” the Warlock responded, turning to face Alec. “I’m Magnus, I don’t think we've been formally introduced?”

The way Magnus’ body swayed as he made his way over to Alec could only be described as a saunter. Every part of his body moving in sync, like each step forward was part of a carefully choreographed, sensual dance. His warm brown eyes scanning Alec up and down, making Alec’s blood feel like lava coursing through his veins.

“Alec,” he stuttered out, cursing his own ineloquence. “Uh, we, should, uh, really, uh, probably, get, uh, you know.” He knew his face would be plastered with a dopey smile. He tried to focus on the mission, remembering all his Shadowhunter training and not let himself be distracted by how handsome Magnus was.

“We should join the party,” Magnus replied kindly, taking sympathy on Alec’s inarticulate stumbling.

You got me slippin', tumblin', sinkin', fumblin'

Clumsy 'cause I'm fallin' in love (in love)

Songs:

Moscow Symphony Orchestra - The Charge of the Light Brigade

Fergie - Clumsy

Alec fought to steady his breathing, schooling his features into as close to a smile as he could manage. This was supposed to be a happy occasion after all, he was marrying a good match. A woman of strong standing with the Clave, a woman who would help him restore his family’s name and lead the New York Institute to greatness.

The delicate instrumental that flowed around him was more sombre than your average wedding choice, but the music that had followed him for as long as he could remember was always in tune to his feelings as well as the wider situation. No one could ever explain where the sounds came from, no one else could hear them but he had his own radio station that followed him everywhere he went.

To his side, Brother Zachariah finished the traditional introduction. ‘No turning back now,’ he thought grimly, dragging in a deep breath. Lydia gripped her stele, reaching out to touch the tip to the ceremonial adamas block with a small smile tracing her lips. A smile that actually managed to reach her eyes. Alec supposed this was less of a compromise for her at least - she wasn’t hiding herself for the sake of a marriage. Objectively, he could see that she was beautiful. The dress hugged her lithe figure perfectly, her hair elegantly braided into an intricate style. But his observation was purely theoretical, based on appearances only with no deeper meaning behind them. It was like observing an exhibition in an art gallery or appreciating the orchestral chords currently filling his ears. He could recognise the grace and the skill, he could appreciate how other people would form a deep emotional connection, but for him it went no deeper than that.

Taking his hand, Lydia brought the glowing tip of the stele to his wrist to trace the wedded union rune when Alec’s head jerked up. At that moment the door slammed open in the distance, causing everyone else to look up in unison. A fraction of a second later, Magnus Bane appeared in the archway, halting in the middle of the aisle that Alec’s bride had not long since walked down.

Simultaneously, the instrumental had come to a stuttering halt only to be replaced by jarring guitar riffs and sirens.

And I'm glad I crashed the wedding

It's better than regretting

I could have been a loser kid

Who ran away and hid

But it's the best thing that I ever did

If Alec jumped in response, it was at least masked by the distraction Magnus Bane had caused.

Magnus held his head high, focussing his gaze on Alec. Alec felt his heart pound in his chest. In his periphery, he heard his mother speak out but her words were lost to the beat of the song filling the room for only his ears. His siblings were having a hushed conversation behind him, but all Alec could focus on was the warlock standing before him. Dressed impeccably as always, his hair swept high with just a hint of magenta glinting in the tips, his eyes lined with his customary makeup. This. This was what Alec was meant to feel when he looked at Lydia. The steady beat of his pulse, sure and certain. The thrum of electricity that vibrated across every inch of his skin. The way his breath caught in his throat. The sheer force of attraction.

His mom was stalking up the aisle towards the warlock, the set of her shoulders displaying just how angry the intrusion had made her. Magnus merely raised his hand, halting her in her lecture and moving further towards Alec. The display of determination and power frayed at the last of Alec’s resolve. Both Jace and Lydia were reaching out to him with words of support and encouragement. Lydia’s smile was wide but no longer touching her eyes as she tried to capture his attention.

“Alec, hey, Alec,” she leaned towards him, trying to angle herself into his eye line causing him to finally look away from Magnus.

“I- I can’t breathe.” He admitted. The bowtie knotted at his throat suddenly felt suffocating to him.

“I know, it’s ok,” she reassured, her voice soft but certain even over the crashing pop-punk that still assaulted his senses.

'Cause true love lasts forever

And now we're back together

As if he never met her

So looking back

I'm glad I crashed the wedding

“I can’t do this,” he admitted. “I thought we were doing the right thing but this isn’t it.” His words came out rushed, his breath constricting in his throat. He tried to keep his panic at bay but he felt trapped, surrounded by his family, his colleagues and clave delegates a like. There were too many people here expecting too much of him but he couldn’t go through with this.

“You don’t have to explain,” Lydia pursed her lips together.

“Lydia I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you deserve to be happy.” She reached out to cup his cheek, reassuring him with a soft smile. “OK? I’ll be fine.”

He could feel guilty about this later, find a way to make it up to her. Even though he knew deep down that he wasn’t just freeing himself from a future that wouldn’t make him happy, he was also freeing her.

He turned and scanned the room before his eyes settled on the one person that truly mattered in this situation, the one person who made whatever battles he was about to face feel manageable. It might be ridiculous, he might barely know Magnus but still, something told him this was a risk worth taking. He stepped down from the altar, putting a physical distance between himself and the ceremony he’d almost gone through with.

Magnus made no move, no indication of his intentions. Alec gulped, realising this was his move to make. He’d pushed the Warlock away so many times, ignoring their obvious chemistry. Now he had to be the one to make the next move.

Resolved, he pushed forward, long strides carrying him swiftly up the aisle. He saw his mom making her way towards him but he brushed past her, focussed only on the man in front of him.

He grabbed Magnus by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him in close and pressed their lips together. Ignoring everyone around him he focussed on this moment, their first kiss. The first of many he hoped. He felt the tension leave his body as Magnus’ lips moved against his. Around him the lyrics continued to echo, cementing in his mind that he’d made the right choice.

'Cause true love lasts forever (true love lasts forever)

Songs:

Chopin - Piano Sonata No. 2 in B Flat Minor

Busted - Crashed the Wedding

III

Alec knew that Max wasn’t the only person he loved who he could lose that day but the relief that his baby brother was alive, talking and already focussed on catching the bad guy was overwhelming. The moment was accentuated by a hum of soft piano music, hopeful notes filled with joy and family and love - a delicate yet mellow melody.

As Magnus made his excuses and turned to leave, the notes of the piano seemed to follow him, an air of yearning filling the room, a cloud threatening to overshadow Alec’s momentary relief. Izzy made eye contact with him, her pointed stare spurring Alec into action. With a sigh, he gave Max one last reassuring pat on the shoulder and followed Magnus from the room.

Magnus was still in the corridor, shoulders slumped and back to Alec. As had happened so often since meeting Magnus, the piano instrumental that had been moving through the day with him stuttered to a stop, almost as if someone had slammed down on the keys. Alec fought back the surprise, knowing that his relationship with Magnus needed to be the priority now. Knowing that he needed to reinforce to Magnus just how much he loved him, how serious he was about their relationship and building a better future for the entire Shadow World.

Magnus knew about his ‘condition’. He’d had no choice but to explain after a particularly ill timed joke from whatever decided his private torture for him. What should have been an intimate and emotional step in their relationship had been interrupted by Alec’s scowl as a crooning voice sang out “let’s get it on,” distracting him from his mission to divest Magnus of his clothes. It had coincided with the reveal of Magnus’ Warlock mark which had obviously not helped the tension in the room at all. Once Alec had explained rather awkwardly, Magnus had been understanding, if a little confused and they had managed to get things back on track. Magnus had even summoned a record player into the bedroom so they could share their first time together, in every way.

But even despite Magnus understanding, Alec was determined to focus on this conversation, determined to right the wrongs. They’d stumbled over communication and he wasn’t going to allow that to continue. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back, standing tall in parade rest trying to focus only on the man in front of him.

Please, tell me everything

That you think that I should know

“Thank you, so much, for being here,” Alec stumbled out. It wasn’t what he had meant to say. But it was still sincere. He still was grateful that despite all the drama surrounding their lives, Magnus was still kind enough to be here, to try to help in whatever way he could.

Magnus’s response was equally sincere, even if it felt like a brush off as he couldn’t meet Alec’s eyes as he wished Max well. As Magnus turned to leave, Alec realised this was his only chance to try to recover whatever they had.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. Blunt and to the point, but again, his tone (he hoped) conveyed the sincerity he felt in every bone in his body. Magnus paused but didn’t turn. Fists clenching by his side, Alec continued “I should have told you about the soul sword.”

It's just for show, isn't it?

It's my fault that it fell apart

The catchy guitar riffs really weren’t helping him concentrate. And the lyrics, the lyrics needled at his every insecurity. By the Angel, if he ever worked out who was responsible for this ‘gift’ as the Silent Brothers put it, he would personally run them through with a seraph blade. Even Raziel himself would feel Alec’s wrath if that’s what it took. He needed the music to shut the hell up. He needed Magnus to turn around and tell him it was OK. He just needed this to be OK. Maybe if he admitted to his mistake, maybe they would have a shot at working it out.

Magnus turned to him though with such hatred in his eyes. He had finally made eye contact at least. Something which felt like it should have been an achievement but there was not even a hint of the love they had shared in those eyes.

Alec reached out, desperate and voice low, “You and me, we always seem to find our way back to each other.” He reached out and gripped at Magnus’ wrist as if hoping that he could push every single ounce of love he felt for Magnus, every bit of his apology, through that single point of contact.

“Magnus, I love you.”

Well, maybe you need this

And I didn't mean to lead you on

The nasally, pre-pubescent voice continued to grate at him even as he desperately declared his love for the man in front of him. Magnus’ expression softened. It was only a slight shift but it brought Alec a brief glint of hope that maybe this could be OK. Magnus reached up and rested his hand on Alec’s cheek, normally a sign of affection. Alec leaned into the touch as Magnus responded in kind, “I love you too.”

You were everything I wanted

But I just can't finish what I've started

There's no room left here on my back

It was damaged long ago

“But…” Magnus continued, grimacing slightly and sucking in a deep breath, “as a leader, there are difficult decisions I must make to ensure the survival of my people.”

Alec shuffled from foot to foot, searching Magnus’ eyes for any sign that he had completely misheard this. Surely the incessant guitar riffs had addled his brain, this couldn’t be happening? Could it?

Though you swear that you are true

I'd still pick my friends over you

“The only thing holding me back from doing that…” Magnus continued, looking down at the floor, “is you.”

“No.” Alec begged, fighting his stoic Shadowhunter nature. This couldn’t be happening. They could make this right. They could make this work. “We can figure this out.” He had complete conviction in that at least.

“You once asked me what I was afraid of,” tears had formed in the corners of Magnus’ eyes as he looked up at Alec. “It’s this.”

Magnus turned sharply and walked towards the elevator leaving Alec alone once more, the lyrics still echoing mockingly through the corridor, for Alec at least.

Though you swear that you are true

I'd still pick my friends over you

Songs:

Jordan Rudess - The Answer Lies Within

Marvin Gaye - Let’s Get It On

New Found Glory - My Friends Over You

Alec paced the ops center, grateful for Izzy and Magnus’ presence even if he still felt entirely helpless. It didn’t help that the demons that had been previously swarming the city had vanished without a trace giving him nothing in New York to distract him.

Sending Jace to Lake Lyn with only Clary for back up had been a truly terrible idea. The distance made the emotions and understanding he could normally get through the parabatai bond fuzzy at best. He knew Jace was feeling unusually stressed, that much at least was evident.

This was slightly concerning for Alec. His parabatai was normally reasonably cool under pressure, thriving on the adrenaline that usually translated to excitement pulsing through the bond. When they went on missions together, Jace’s high energy would counteract Alec’s over-cautious nature, the two of them cancelling out each other’s extreme emotions to neutralise into a collected state of deadly precision.

Whatever was happening at Lake Lyn, clearly it was enough to even rattle Jace. He pushed through the bond further, trying to glean anything more concrete than the tension that currently nudged gently at him. In the background, ominous string music drifted through the room, juddering and foreboding. It was distant enough that it didn’t distract Alec from staring at the comms screen in front of him but it was just alarming enough to have him hovering on the edge of breaking down.

As time progressed his anxiety only grew. He’d ‘opened’ the parabatai bond further than he ever had before, allowing as much reassurance to flow through, but also allowing himself to tug at his parabatai for anything Jace could offer, be it a call for help or reassuring emotions. The more he opened it, the more intense the strings got, increasing in both tempo and volume, like an approaching army ready for battle.

He gripped tight on the edge of the table, the comms room long since empty of anyone but his sister and his ex-boyfriend. He’d snapped at enough of the Shadowhunters on duty that everyone realised it was better to give him a wide berth this evening. There was still no sign of demonic activity in the city and worse, no word from Jace and Clary.

Mmm, what'd you say?

His knees buckled as the voice rang out from nowhere, pain coursing through his body. A white-hot, searing heat emanating from his heart and being pumped through his veins. His parabatai rune pulsed under his flesh, the light graze of his cotton t-shirt feeling like the drag of sandpaper against the sensitive flesh. He pulled his shirt up, watching as the black rune faded to an angry red, then a barely there pink.

Mmm, that you only meant well?

An ethereal voice, distorted and haunting filled the room chilling him to the bone as image after image of his life with Jace flashed in front of his eyes.

The first day they’d met, Alec firing an arrow that just barely missed teenage Jace. The wide eyed stare the blonde boy had given him across the training room was as piercing now as it was when he had first been on the receiving end of it.

Well, of course you did

His arms barely held him up as he scrunched his face up trying to escape both the pain ravaging his body and the onslaught of memories.

Blue flames circled round them, as they gripped each other’s arms, reciting the ceremonial words. Back then Jace had been it for Alec, his entire life wrapped up in what he thought was unrequited love. At the time, Alec had pushed through with the ceremony, despite his doubts, because he thought it was the only way he could ever be close to Jace, the best way to keep Jace by his side. Now he realised, parabatai bond or no, Jace was his brother in all but blood. His teenage crush was just that, a crush. His own confusion around his sexuality manifesting itself against the closest friend he had.

Mmm, what'd you say?

His world was crumbling around him, he felt something solid against his head before his body hit the cool, hard floor.

Jace pulling him tight to him. The soft glow of Magnus’ loft surrounding them. The palpable relief that they’d found his brother, his parabatai, his best friend.

Mmm, that it's all for the best?

Arms cradled him in the present day, against the overwhelming swell of fear and anguish he felt he could almost pretend that this was Jace’s embrace. But he knew the truth. Deep down he knew, Jace was gone.

His breath came in dry, heaving sobs. It took him a few moments to realise that the physical sensations were gone. The pain that he had felt faded to nothing, not even a dull ache that normally followed an iratze. His body felt completely fine. His heart… That was another story.

Lifting his shirt once more, he saw nothing but clear skin where once his parabatai rune had been.

Of course it is

Songs:

Jeff Wayne - War of the Worlds (Instrumental)

Imogen Heap - Hide and Seek

Alec fumbled at the buttons of his grey shirt, checking his reflection in the mirror. Normally he wouldn't care about his appearance but today was an important day. He needed to make sure he looked his best for this evening and he had no guarantees that he’d have time after his meetings to come back and change. His movements were accompanied by that annoyingly catchy, synth heavy pop song again. He had to fight not to hum along.

We're no strangers to love

You know the rules and so do I

A full commitment's what I'm thinking of

You wouldn't get this from any other guy

Behind him, Magnus sat propped up in their bed at the Institute. Hair soft and falling gently against his forehead in the morning light. He held the New York Times in front of him, scanning the property listings and reading out anything that could be exciting for them. Planning for their future.

Realistically this should be reassuring to hear, that he wasn’t the only one who was in this for the long haul. But Alec’s insecurities were deep-seated and hard to budge. Yes, Magnus might want to live with him, but to commit to a lifetime together? That was harder to believe.

I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling

Gotta make you understand

He tried his best to hide his nerves and focus on the information his boyfriend was giving him but Magnus knew him too well.

“Alexander?” Magnus asked, voice tinged with concern.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds great.” Truth be told, Alec had no idea what the apartment Magnus had described was like. Or it could have been a townhouse? Possibly an open plan loft come to think of it?

“Is something wrong?”

Only that I want to marry you and there’s this damn song playing on a loop every time I think about it...

At the simple question panic swelled in Alec. Spinning to face Magnus, “What, no. On the contrary, everything is perfect. Now that you’re back to your old self,” he gestured at Magnus. His smile felt anything but genuine and his tone falsely cheery. He bit back a grimace at his terrible acting skills.

“Well, let’s not get carried away,” Magnus murmured, stretching to reach the coffee mug by his side, eyes downcast.

“I just mean now that you're healthy,” Alec clarified, not missing the slight derogatory quirk of Magnus’ eyebrow over the rim of his mug.

We've known each other for so long

Your heart's been aching but

You're too shy to say it

Inside we both know what's been going on

We know the game, and we're gonna play it

“So I was thinking we could have dinner tonight, on the balcony?” He changed the subject rapidly. Spilling out the details of his date night plan before he lost his nerve entirely. “The view of the city, the head chef can prepare something special.” He tugged at the cuff of his shirt, tweaking the folds where it was rolled up against his forearm.

“How romantic,” Magnus looked up at him, a barely there smile on his face but his eyes warm as they met Alec’s, “May I ask as to the occasion?”

Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around and desert you

“There’s no occasion, I just thought it would be nice,” Alec bluffed.

Magnus merely smiled and looked down at his hands, only a slight quirk to his eyebrow betraying his opinion on the matter.

“What? I can’t do something nice with my boyfriend?” Alec probed.

Never gonna make you cry

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

“I am one lucky man,” Magnus looked up at him with wide, brown eyes warm with affection.

“Not as lucky as I am,” Alec replied, fighting back the instinctual blush that still threatened to creep up his cheeks whenever he broached conversations of feelings.

“OK, I’ll see you tonight at 8 o’clock,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ cheek before heading for the door.

“I’ll be there with bells on,” Magnus’ answer was almost lost to the pop beats still bouncing around the room and assaulting Alec’s ears as he closed the door behind him.

Song:

Rick Astley - Never Gonna Give You Up

The couple moved slowly together drifting in gentle circles, Magnus’ chin resting gently on Alec’s shoulder, a hand warm on his lower back. Around them, their family and friends watched on as they celebrated the love they shared.

Alec felt elated - just a few short months ago he wouldn’t have believed it was possible to feel this light, to feel this free. In that time he’d met (and now married) the most incredible, magical man; they’d defeated Valentine; brought down the Circle; taken down Asmodeus; defeated Jonathon and Lillith; and somehow made it through it all stronger and happier than ever.

Magnus’ hand tightened slightly at his back, causing him to check in with the Warlock in his arms, “I’m not stepping on your feet am I?”

“How could you be? I’m walking on air.” Alec could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. They’d got so used to the undercurrent of stress that punctuated their lives and somehow managed to bleed into even the most private moments of their relationship at times, the ability to just live in the moment was liberating.

“I’m confused though,” Magnus continued. “I thought we settled on ‘What a wonderful world’ for our first dance. Did you change the music?”

Alec stepped back, not breaking their hold but just positioning himself so he could see Magnus’ face. “You hear it too?”

I want to see that sweet smile

All of the time

And if I get you a drink, oh

You know I'll squeeze your lime

“I don’t even know what this is?” Magnus asked in confusion, tilting his head to listen closer to the strumming of the ukulele and the high pitched lilt of the woman’s voice.

“Neither do I,” Alec said, grinning in spite of the confusion. This had never happened before, not even Jace had ever heard what he heard and they, for all intents and purposes, shared a soul through their parabatai bond. “If you listen carefully, you can still hear our actual wedding song in the background. It just takes some practice to filter through to it,” he explained.

I wanna buy you things

I wanna make you laugh

When there's nowhere to sit

I'll let you sit on my lap

“Is this what it’s like all the time for you?” Magnus murmured as he pulled Alec back close to him.

“Not all the time. Only when you’re around. The rest of the time it tends to be more like elevator music or classical pieces.” The dainty, sweet sounds of the ukulele washed over him as they continued to dance to the song that only they could hear.

Like a cool breeze after a summer day

I see that smile and drift away

Little Mango

Mango my love

“Little Mango?” Magnus repeated, mischief colouring his voice.

Alec groaned and buried his head in the crook of his husband’s neck. “No. Just, no.”

“But surely this is fate’s way of telling me the perfect nickname for you?” Magnus teased back.

“This could actually be worse than pup,” Alec complained, silently cursing the whimsical lyrics for inspiring this. He prayed to Raziel that it wouldn’t stick.

When you take my hand and dance with me

There's nowhere else I'd rather be

Little Mango

Mango my love

In the end though, he wasn’t sure if he could deny his husband anything that brought such a beautiful smile to his face. After everything they’d been through together, Alec would do anything to keep the man by his side happy. Even if that meant succumbing to the nickname ‘Little Mango’.

Song:

Catey Shaw - Mango

#skylar102 #malecsanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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even-love-unreturned · 3 years

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ok so this is going to be more critical than i usually get, so I’m putting it under a cut, but my thoughts on the last three chapters of coi:

See, this kind of misunderstanding that’s preventing Cordelia and James’ happy ending right now? Now that the bracelet is off and everything? Now that the only reason they’re not happy together yet is just misunderstood unforthcoming words and conveniently-timed interruptions?

Yeah it’s such an eyeroll. I don’t buy it.

All it would’ve taken is James being clear with what he means, and James isn’t exactly an ineloquent person. “I don’t love Grace I love you.” Seven words. That’s all it would’ve taken. He could’ve said it in two seconds before he answered the knock at the door.

Or, for that matter, he could have just told Cordelia how he feels earlier. And we know from the narration that he has wanted to, many times since the battle, but just keeps telling himself “not yet” for literally no reason.

Then Grace just oh-so-conveniently knocks on the door just as James was about to confess how he truly feels and clear things up, and James conveniently decides it’s better to answer the door first instead of immediately clarifying his sentence that Cordelia has clearly taken in a very wrong way.

And Cordelia just happens to overhear only the beginning of James and Grace’s interaction, and runs off before James could make a single explanation.

And then Will just happens to reach James the moment James finally catches up with Matthew and Cordelia at the train station, conveniently pushing back any resolution to the next book. (And no doubt there will be more misunderstandings in the next book, or something that keeps them apart for a good chunk of the book, pushing back the resolution to the end of the series.)

And sure, I know some people may enjoy these sort of misunderstandings. There wouldn’t be so many rom coms with this trope if otherwise.

But I personally am so, so over it. I didn’t realize it until now but I am. It’s dumb and it’s just simply lazy. There needed to be an issue preventing the main couple from getting together at the end of book 2, and this kind of pseudo conflict is the laziest option you could’ve gone with.

Give me actual character-based conflict that these characters have to work through. Or, I’ll take a step back, give me some outside power forcing the main couple apart, that they could battle and defeat. Not some weak misunderstanding that could’ve been solved with a single sentence and is only an issue because of a bevy of conveniently-timed accidents of circumstance.

#matthew and cordelia’s interaction was cute though #chain of iron spoilers #sorry to go into the coi spoilers tag but in case someone’s filtering

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peter-x-harley-cat · 4 years

Text

Just Saying

This was my Parkner Secret Santa gift to @hazyshade-ofwinter. It’s based off the song Just Saying by 5SOS. Sorry I can’t shorten it I’m on mobile.

Hope you like it

WC: 2273

///

Harley ran a hand though his hair as he paced around. This was it, there’d be no going back now.

“Hey,” the manager of the club called. “You guys ready?”

Harley looked around to the rest of his band before nodding. “Let’s go.”

There was a roar as the band walked out on stage. The club was filled with people walking on air and they didn’t seem to care who came on stage. Harley hoped that meant they wouldn’t notice him pouring his heart out at a night club.

He walked up to the mic, strapping on his guitar as the others went to their own instruments. He looked back at his friends and they nodded, shooting him reassuring looks. Finally, he took a breath and turned back to the mic. He introduced them before gearing up to start playing.

“You gotta boyfriend, and he’s a total loser, all your friends say that he’s got no future, but they like me. Just saying.”

***

“He treats you like trash, Pete,” Ned argued as Peter rooted around in his locker. He looked like death and Harley knew that it was Harry’s fault. It was always Harry’s fault.

“He’s trash,” MJ added. “Feeds off Daddy’s money and ready to burn his, and by association your, life to the ground.”

“He’s going to hurt you, man,” Ned said softly. “He already is.”

Peter stilled, just staring into his locker before shaking his head roughly and slamming it shut. He turned on his friends, a dull fire in his eyes, as if he wasn’t even sure he should put up the fight anymore.

“He’s my boyfriend, guys, and I love him,” Peter said, tired determination in his voice at the repeated argument. “He may not be perfect but no one is.”

“Harley is,” MJ mumbled, low enough that only Harley could really make out the words. Peter shot her a confused look and Harley figured this was the time for him to step in.

“We know, Pete,” he eased. “But you should have someone who’s perfect for you. And we’re all pretty sure that’s not Harry.”

Peter looked lost in thought, worrying at his bottom lip like he was actually listening to them. The hope in Harley’s heart bloomed but then the bell rang and Pete shook his head again.

“He’s my boyfriend,” he repeated before heading off down to his first class. Harley looked back at his friends helplessly and they all sighed.

“We should get to class.”

***

“He barely takes you out, and if he does he’s late. And when the check comes, he always makes you pay. I would never do that. Just saying,” Harley sang into the microphone, the crowd getting into the song.

***

“What do you think?” A voice called, breaking Harley out of his work-induced trance.

“Huh?” He muttered as he looked up, freezing at what stood before him.

Peter was dressed in dark wash jeans and a dark red button up shirt. His hair was brushed and his shoes had a slight raise to them. He looked amazing. Especially when he giggled at Harley’s ineloquent grunt.

“My outfit?” He clarified, his eyes filled with humor with a slight tinge of concern at Harley’s current state.

Harley swallowed roughly, trying to get the words out around the lump in his throat.

“You look amazing,” he said and nearly melted when Peter blushed, glancing down at his shoes and biting his lip. “Uh, what’s the occasion?”

“Harry’s taking me out,” Peter said carelessly hopping down into Harley’s workspace. Harley rolled his eyes.

“Who’s paying?” He asked, already knowing it wasn’t going to be Harry. Peter’s blush deepened. “He isn’t ‘taking you out’ if you’re paying.”

Peter shrugged, trying to hide how uncomfortable he was. “I like paying, it’s not like I can’t do it.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to, it’s not like Osborn’s struggling to make ends meet,” Harley argued as he kept fiddling with the thing in his hands. He wasn’t trying to start an argument—he was just angry—but he knew that this line of conversation only had one conclusion.

“He’s my boyfriend, Harley,” the other boy urged almost desperately.

“He doesn’t have to be,” he nearly whispered but he knew Peter heard him by the way his body sagged and he sighed.

The brown-eyed boy looked back up at him and Harley could feel his heart breaking even before he spoke.

“Yeah, but I want him to be,” he insisted. They were locked in each other’s gaze before Harley pulled out. He was a coward like that sometimes. He turned back to his project, clearing his throat.

“You should probably go. Don’t wanna be late.”

It was quiet for a minute, as if Peter didn’t know what to do. But they both knew what his choice was going to be. Harley didn’t look up as the steps retreated from the room.

It wasn’t until a few hours later when Peter texted him asking if they could meet up that Harley got up from his bench. He collected his keys, phone, and wallet before asking FRIDAY to tell Tony where he was going. It didn’t take him long to find the ice cream place Peter had texted him from.

The boy sat there sullenly, more playing with his ice cream then eating it. He didn’t look up as Harley slid into the booth across from him. They were both quiet for a while, Harley not sure how to go forward after their conversation earlier.

“We had a fight,” Peter finally said, sounding more broken than usual. If Harley hadn’t wanted to go find Harry Osborn and beat him to a pulp before, he sure did now.

“What happened?” He asked instead.

Peter shrugged but it wasn’t an answer so Harley waited for him to collect his thoughts. After a minute, he got up and ordered his own ice cream before coming back, figuring he should give him a minute. When he got back, Peter sighed.

“The bill came, he wanted me to pay it, I asked why, he was confused, I told him the things you said and he seemed to know they were coming from you,” he rushed out in one breath. “He got angry and stormed out so I guess I did pay in the end.”

The fact that the last part came with a half-hearted chuckle that barely covered a sob only reinforced in Harley’s mind that Harry Osborn deserved a slow and painful death. He switched over to the other side of the table and Peter crumbled into him, sobbing into his shoulder. He rubbed the sobbing boy’s back trying to soothe him. When the sobs turned to sniffles, Harley whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Peter shook his head vehemently but didn’t move away from Harley. “You have nothing to apologize for, I’m sorry I’ve had to dump my relationship problems on you.”

“Hey,” Harley began, pulling Peter far enough away from him so that he could see his face. “You are never a problem to me okay?”

He didn’t seem convinced but eventually nodded and Harley nodded back. “Good. Now let’s get home before Tony sends some empty armor to get us.”

Peter laughed as they slid to get out of the booth. He reached for his wallet but Harley was already leaving money on the table, giving him a look when he tried to protest. Eventually he relented and sighed. They made their way out of the shop and back home.

***

“You should leave him cause it really makes me sick, just saying, just saying,” Harley sang loudly, pushing every emotion into the words as if Peter was actually there to hear him. “You don’t need him, I’ll help you get over it, just saying, just saying.”

His friends played along with him as if they too were in complete agreement that Harry Osborne was horrible for Peter Parker. Which they were.

***

“He hurts him over and over and OVER again,” Harley ranted as he paced around the room, Ned and Betty nodding along as MJ flipped through her phone.

Tony has given them a level in the tower when they said they wanted to start a band, making sure to securely soundproof it and buy every employee a couple dozen pairs of earplugs. Which was fair in the beginning but was starting to get insulting. Ned and MJ had been trying to get by as a drum/bass duo with no luck. Betty had come along with guitar and keyboard and it had only need Harley to round it out with his own guitar and voice.

They had been about to start rehearsal when Harley had stormed in and started ranting about Harry, Peter, and Harry and Peter.

“And he leaves ME to pick up the pieces,” he continued, waving his hands around like a mad man. “Which I wouldn’t mind doing if it didn’t hurt so much seeing him like that. He doesn’t deserve it!”

Harley huffed heavily as he fell back against the wall. The band had been the audience of many of these outbursts (and had a few of their own). They all hated Harry but they couldn’t seem to get Peter to see that. MJ has suggested that Harry had something on Peter one time and Peter had practically torn her head off, barely accepting her claim that it was joke, which was really only barely true.

“If I have to hear him say he loves him in between sobs one more time...” Harley trailed off, looking up at the ceiling as if it would have the answers to his dilemma.

Betty hummed before speaking up. “Maybe you should tell him that.”

“What?” Harley asked. He must have not heard her right. He couldn’t confess his feelings to Peter.

“Yeah dude!” Ned continued. “Write him a song, that’s what you’re good at.”

Harley mulled the idea over in his head. A song huh? A song...

***

“When you change your mind, I’ll be waiting, cause I’m better than him, just saying,” Harley gasped for breath. “When you change your mind I’ll be waiting.”

“Just saying,” his band mates and a few people in the crowd chorused.

Harley grinned as he really settled into the song, letting the lyrics and their meaning wash over him.

“Got a big house, says he lives alone, but when I drove by, I saw his mom was home, I got my own place,” Harley’s heart hurt as he sung the next part. “He says he loves you, but it’s all an act. He’s seeing someone else behind your back, you know I’d never do that. Just saying.”

***

Harley tried to relax in his seat. He had gone up north to the compound and instead of flying back he had chosen to drive his new car. Like an idiot. His butt was sore and he was tired off being cooped up. He felt relieved when he reached the outer residential area of New York. The rich side anyway.

He pulled onto a street that was vaguely familiar and he realized why when he saw two people exiting a house and heading for a particular yellow car in the drive way. He recognized them as he drew closer, though he would know that car anywhere.

Harry Osborn and Flash Thompson were leaning against Flash’s car, obviously dressed to go out. And if that wasn’t evidence enough, the kiss Harry gave Flash said it all.

Harley couldn’t decide between speeding away or jumping out and punching the guy when a petite woman ran out of the house, calling to the boys. Harry looked exasperated in the only way a child to their parent could be and Flash looked a little annoyed but was obviously used to it. Harley hates that he was used to Harry’s parents’ antics when he knew Peter hadn’t even met them.

Harley gripped the steering wheel tight before peeling away from the house. He had to tell Peter, right? His boyfriend was cheating on him for God’s sake!

But Harley couldn’t help thinking that if he did tell, it would be more for himself than Peter. These thoughts continued to plague him as he drove the rest of the way to his apartment.

It was small and dirty and nearly falling apart but Harley had gotten the place all on his own. He hadn’t wanted to stay in the tower longer than he had to, he was eighteen! He could have his own apartment.

He collapsed onto his bed, still battling with his thoughts. He looked over and saw the unfinished sheet music he had been writing for Peter. He argued with himself for a minute before finding a pencil and starting to write.

***

Harley sung the chorus again before the instruments took over. He tried to push as much emotion into his playing as he did his singing and he must have been doing a good job since the crowd was loving it. As the instruments faded to the back again, Harley’s voice rose up to meet the crowd’s.

“You should leave him cause he really makes me sick,” he sang, being met with a roar of “Just saying, just saying”.

“When you change your mind I’ll be waiting, I’ll help you get over it.”

“Just saying! Just saying!”

The crowd screamed as they played the last notes of the song. The band huffed, trying to catch their breathes from their second live performance. Harley leaned against the mic and grinned. His problems were nowhere near solved, but his song was still pretty good.

And maybe he’d sing it to it’s actual recipient one day. Hopefully.

#parkner #parkner secret santa #harley keener #lotta angst #fic #harley mj ned and betty are in a band #my writing #here ya go

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emmvxnce · 4 years

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i didn’t know i was a p h o e n i x TILL I LEARNED HOW TO S P E A K

𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

"Without losing a piece of me, how do i get to heaven? Without changing a piece of me, how do I get to heaven? So if I’m losing a piece of me, maybe I don’t want heaven.” — Troye Sivan, Heaven

“She had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, like when you’re swimming and you want to put your feet down on something solid, but the water’s deeper than you think and there’s nothing there.” — Julia Gregson

“The worst thing in the world next to anarchy, is government.” — Henry Ward Beecher

“I’ve left my fingerprints somewhere. And that’s good enough. And I am my own person. And that’s good enough. And… I stand my ground. And that’s good enough.” — Morrissey

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Emmeline Glenys Vance NICKNAMES: Emme, Em, Vance AGE: Twenty Two BIRTHDAY: 10 September 1957 GENDER: Cis Female PRONOUNS: She/Her SEXUALITY: Homosexual ETHNICITY: English, Welsh, Chinese

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Jìngyi ‘Jenny’ Vance, née Ling (44) FATHER: Raymond Thomas Vance (46) SIBLINGS: Charles Vance (23), Margaret Vance (20)

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Chloe Bennet BUILD: Naturally slim, of average height. Several years of training have lent an athletic edge to her body. Solid bone structure, thin but not waiflike. HAIR: Shoulder length, thick, and wavy. Typically pulled back off her face in some way or other. Often twisted up with her wand which backfires when she is forced to pull her wand and her hair comes falling around her face. HAIR COLOR: Dark brown. EYE COLOR: Typically brown, nearly black when she’s upset or angry but lighter when the sun is bright or her mood is up. SKIN COLOR: Beige with warm undertones. DOMINANT HAND: Right. ANOMALIES: Broken nails from years spent biting or picking at them. A scar on her hairline on the right side of her forehead from where she fell when she was eight and cracked her head on the coffee table in the living room. Various minor scars from several years with the Order. SCENT: Honey and lilac from her shampoo, a touch of something floral if she’s decided to put on perfume which is rare and reserved for the most special of occasions. ACCENT: RP but with traces of welsh from years listening and speaking with her dad who is from Cardiff. ALLERGIES: Pollen and blueberries. DISORDERS: Mild anxiety triggered in the last several years by the worsening war FASHION: Leans to muggle fashion, typical late 70′s clothing. Bell bottoms, high waisted jeans, crop tops, the occasional leather jacket, over sized men’s shirts paired with leggings. She prefers pants to skirts as often as possible. NERVOUS TICS: Biting and picking at her nails, toying with any jewelry she may be wearing, usually a necklace, twirling hair at the base of her neck or from her ponytail. In general her hands are usually fidgeting in someway, she has a hard time keeping them still. QUIRKS: She doesn’t like silence and sometimes will hum to herself if there is no other sound just to fill the empty air, she almost always sits with her legs pulled up either under or in front of her.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Plainview Point BORN: Cardiff, where her parents lived in the earliest years of their marriage before moving to a village just outside London. RAISED: Shere, a village in Surrey, about an hour southwest of London. PETS: Persimmon aka Persy, a ginger cat she met in an alley near St. Mungo’s who took a liking to her after she shared her turkey sandwich one day and followed her home.

CAREER: Healer, specializing in spell inflicted damage and working on the fourth floor of St. Mungo’s. EXPERIENCE: Member of the Potions club in her fifth through seventh years at Hogwarts. OWLS and NEWTS in Charms, Potions, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Entered the Healer training program upon graduation from Hogwarts, rotating through each floor and specialization at St. Mungo’s before choosing to specialize in spell-inflicted damage. EMPLOYER: St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Order of the Phoenix BELIEFS: Equality, in all shapes and forms. Being a muggleborn, a woman, the daughter of an immigrant, and a lesbian have given her a unique viewpoint into so many of the ways that society is stacked against certain people. She does not have a strong religious or spirtual practice or belief but adds it to the list of things she believes people should be allowed to choose and practice without judgment or intercession. MISDEMEANORS: Breaking curfew, pilfering from the potion supply closet in school and a little bit from the hospital when it’s not something she can get at the apothecary FELONIES: None on the record, only in service of the Order DRUGS: Marijuana, both inhaled and ingested. Girlfriend makes a hell of a pot brownie. SMOKES: Marijuana, yes. Cigarettes, no. ALCOHOL: Beer mostly, the occasional whiskey when someone else is in charge of choosing it. Never wine or cocktails. Too sweet for her taste. DIET: Mostly simple meals, usually with a bit of a Chinese foundation. Rice as a staple, a lot of stir fry because it’s simply and quick and can be made in large quantities to last her for many days or to feed a multitude of people.

LANGUAGES: English, Welsh, Mandarin

PHOBIAS: Fire, losing those she loves and being left alone. HOBBIES: Brewing potions, listening and collecting muggle music TRAITS: { + }: compassionate, self-assured, determined, hard working, pragmatic { - }: blunt, ineloquent, inflexible, stubborn, temperamental

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: Her flat. She’s turned it into a haven with couches you can sink into, nooks where she can curl up, candles and warm smells, even a fireplace she and Persy like to lie in front of until they fall asleep on the poufs she has as extra seating. SPORTS TEAM: Chelsea Football Club, Holyhead Harpies (football first and then quidditch) GAME: Rummy, card games in general MUSIC: Muggle rock and punk - Queen, David Bowie, Blondie, The Clash MOVIES: Star Wars, The Godfather (just the first one), Superman, The Exorcist FOOD: Chinese food but actual Chinese food like her mother makes, not what you can get in the shops. Not that that’s bad - it’s just not her favorite. BEVERAGE: Chocolate Milk. Yes she knows she is a child. COLOR: Deep gold.

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Hufflepuff WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 9 ¼ inches, ash, phoenix feather core, slightly springy. The saying goes that ash wands are stubborn but it isn’t the arrogant or crass type of stubborn that attracts this wood. It is drawn to a person whose beliefs are held strongly in their mind and deeply in their heart. Combined with a core of phoenix feather and it’s slightly springy nature, Emmeline’s wand is particularly loyal and becomes finnicky in the hands of anyone other than it’s owner. AMORTENTIA: Fresh baked pastries, cinnamon, twilight air in the summer PATRONUS: Brown Bear - social creatures who find strength in sharing resources and who are known for their protective instincts. Bears are also closely associated with healing in some cultures. BOGGART: Darkness. The kind of darkness that envelops your senses. Instead of becoming stronger, it dulls each sense so you cannot see but you also cannot hear or feel or smell. You are isolated, alone, helpless. Seconds become eternities as you seek any anchor to hold on to to pull yourself back to the world.

𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good MBTI: ENFJ-A (Extroverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Judging, Assertive) MBTI ROLE: The Protaganist ENNEAGRAM: Type 2 ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Helper TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine WESTERN ZODIAC: Virgo

Virgos are always paying attention to the smallest details and their deep sense of humanity makes them one of the most careful signs of the zodiac. This will lead to a strong character, but one that prefers conservative, well-organized things and a lot of practicality in their everyday life. These individuals have an organized life, and even when they let go to chaos, their goals and dreams still have strictly defined borders in their mind. Their need to serve others makes them feel good as caregivers, on a clear mission to help.

CHINESE ZODIAC: Rooster

Roosters are smart, charming, witty, honest, blunt, capable, talented, brave, and self-reliant. They are known for their ability to do astounding things with extremely limited resources. Their way is always right (in their mind, at least), and they love to debate their stance. Roosters are extremely sociable and bask in attention and praise.

PRIMAL SIGN: Corgi

Loyal, observant, and analytical, those born under the Primal Zodiac sign of the Corgi are devoted friends and family members who take on the role of caretaker with great passion. Few others are as eager to jump in and help a friend in need, and Corgis take great pride in this. More so than other signs, members of this sign like to fill a very specific role in the lives of other people, thus getting the majority of their own personal fulfillment through their service to others.

TAROT CARD: Justice

The Justice Tarot card has to do with moral sensitivity and that which gives rise to empathy, compassion, and a sense of fairness. Since the time of Solomon, this image has represented a standard for the humane and fair-minded treatment of other beings. This card reminds us to be careful to attend to important details. It's a mistake to overlook or minimize anything where this card is concerned.

SONGS: coming soon, i suck at this

IDEOLOGIES: Doesn’t believe in wallowing or living in the past. Mistakes get made and bad things happen and the only way to get past it all is to pick yourself up and keep on walking.

Tea over coffee. Fight her about it. Get yourself some black tea if you need the caffeine.

There is exactly nothing that can’t be made better by a dance party around the flat with the music so loud that you can’t hear your own thoughts anymore.

There is no excuse for inequality. People are people and the only way to get through this life is to care about the people inhabiting the world around you. Most common thought - “I don’t know how to explain to you that you should care about other people.”

#she's a burden on society | aesthetic #dulcetask #this took me a solid six hours #blessings on you if you read the whole thing

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skeletorific · 5 years

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Hey there, not sure if you're still doing HCs...? But if so, how would the bros (UT, UF, US, SF) react to finding out their s/o's seemingly mundane phobia? Like would some brush it off until s/o's literally having a panic attack?? Or immediately sympathize/console and what would they say?? Having a bit of trouble myself ATM and could use some positive vibes

lets ignore the fact that im stealing @popatochisssp ask format because i think its really good for this kind of thing asdsfadkj also I added the HT!boys because I’ve been thinking about them lately

Brushes it off until things escalate: Sans, Red, Edge

Immediately sympathizes/consoles: Crooks, Papyrus, Blue

Tries to fight the phobia and forgets to comfort you: Black

Doesn’t brush it off but doesn’t know how to comfort you either so is just stuck awkwardly patting your back: Rus, Stretch, Axe

UT!Sans: Sans isn’t great with emotions like fear. He prefers to keep a handle on things at all times, cover it in a thin layer of bad jokes, and then shove it to the back of his mind. He doesn’t write you off intentionally, its more than he kind of assumes that comforting you would make things worse, because that’s how it would make him feel. So, in typical Sans fashion, he ignores the problem until it literally can’t be ignored anymore

UT!Papyrus: Regarding his own weird fears he actually tends close to Sans, in that he prefer to cover them up. However, nothing makes him happier than feeling like he’s his s/o’s protector, so he jumps at the opportunity to shield you from even the most mundane of problems. If anything you might have to talk him down a bit to stop him from essentially bubbling you away from trouble

UF!Sans: what do you mean living with a constant, low level of fear isn’t normal. Chin up buttercup. He’s not intentionally being a dick, necessarily, but especially if the phobia is something small, it can be really hard for him to get it in his thick skull that you’re not just overreacting. The first time it happens he’s almost certainly gonna be teasing you the whole way through....right up until he notices you’re shaking.

The good news is that his behavior significantly improves after the first panic attack. Whether he understands the fear or not, making you feel safe around him is priority one. He’ll still probably tease you about it, but he’ll tone it down and tune himself in a little more to how you’re doing.

UF!Papyrus: Edge also comes from the “toughen up” school of thought when it comes to fears. He’s intimately familiar with what its like to be scared, but phobias are more complex in nature and they can be harder for him to understand. It may even take a few moments of you panicking to get him to stop trying to make you “snap out of it”. Its a bad first time. Like his brother, he learns his lesson, and while he’s never a great consoler, he’s good about getting you away from it, and good about not letting anyone give you shit for it. His ultimate goal will be to get you over it, meaning he’ll be consistently recommending exposure therapy, but if it really bothers you he’ll keep his mouth shut.

US!Sans: Blue’s very high on empathy in general. If it freaks you out chances are he’s gonna be catching some secondhand anxiety, meaning he wants to be away from whatever it is almost as much as you do. His comfort methods are usually touch based, just trying to keep you in close and tight and make sure you feel protected

US!Papyrus: combining Sans’ emotional ineloquence with Papyrus’ desire to be his s/o’s protector is a hell of a cocktail sometimes. He’s not as capable of just training himself to ignore it, but he also doesn’t know how to walk you back. As a result his methods usually tend to be distraction based, whether that’s turning on some music or just making out with you to get your mind off it. He’s stumbling, but he’s trying.

SF!Sans: Nobody and nothing scares his partner. He takes a very Papyrus approach by trying to become your protector, and depending on what your phobia is he develops a habit of being aggressive towards it. Spiders are killed. People who try to get you to go to high places are told off. If its thunderstorms you swear he’ll be trying to fight it. He means well in a way that’s honestly adorable, but don’t say that to his face.

SF!Papyrus: He’s not good with comfort words, much like Stretch, but you know what he is good with? Charming. It is really, really hard to keep your focus on whatever is freaking you out when he’s talking in that particular tone of voice and layering on that many compliments. If the phobia can be removed, he’ll do that first, and there are times when the panic is too great to be taken out by flirting. In those cases he tends to just hide you both away somewhere until the shaking stops. But in general he wants you to be more worried about whether your face is as red as it feels than any phobia

HT!Sans: Needless to say, he’s intimately aware with fear. What it feels like. How to cause it. And how to control it. Axe isn’t really known for his consoling abilities. In general, he’s emotionally closed off. In his world fear wasn’t something you comforted. It was something you either survived, or you didn’t. Even post-Surface its hard to break out of that mindset .But if you’re his s/o you’ve entered into the limited set of people he cares about, meaning he’s at least trying. As he tries to stammer out words of comfort and crush you to his side, its gruff, and its clumsy but.....from him? Its a lot.

HT!Papyrus: Crooks understand fear like Axe does. Perhaps more so, given that more often than not, he was the victim rather than the cause. But all that experience with fear has only served to make him kinder. He’s a grade a consoler. For once, his nervous tremors fade away as he calmly reminds you that he won’t let you get hurt, that you are safe, and cared for. He is able to do it well, because you’ve had to do the same for him so many times. Crooks is always gentle with you, but today its especially so, as he keeps you distracted and happy as much as possible

#undertale #underfell #underswap #swapfell #horrortale #sans #papyrus #uf!sans #uf!papyrus #us!sans #us!papyrus #sf!sans #sf!papyrus #ht!sans #ht!papyrus #phobias #headcanon #Anonymous

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mrsspidermanmaryjanewatsonparker · 7 years

Text

Amazing Spider-Man: Renew Your Vows V2 #3 Thoughts/Review

Click here to see my older thoughts

I’m not gonna go page by page on this one just FYI

Story:

Annie May Parker is sent to the principal’s office for doodling in class. Outside his office she encounters an older student named Stephanie Kim who has a reputation for being the toughest kid in school. Stephanie advises Annie May to just let the principal say what he wants and wait him out. This works with Stephanie later explaining her four years of school has taught her that their principal doesn’t really care too much about the students or what they do, so long as his life isn’t made difficult.In the playground the pair spot Jermaine Grant (son of Gloria Grant) who’s being picked on by some older kids. Annie steps in but it’s Stephanie’s words which send the bullies skulking off.

Suddenly Annie’s Spider Sense blares and she receives disturbing visions of her parents in trouble. Recognizing the Regent’s base from her visions, Annie changes into costume and races off to help her folks. At the scene though she cannot find them and is promptly captured by the Moloids, waking up hurt and in their clutches (leading us to the end of issue #1).

MJ/Spinneret angrily rescues (and consequently grounds) Annie leaving her to watch them fight the dinosaur from earlier issues from afar. But following another Spider Sense induced vision she sees her parents falling into a large hole and tries to warn them. She’s too late however, but she’s just in time to notice the dinosaur waking up and lunge at her. As Normie Osborn watched intrigued she lures the dinosaur into the hole, sending it tumbling down to land nearby the Mole Man who’s captured her parents.

After a few quick exchange of words Annie declares that it’s time for them to fight, whilst exclaiming fearfully in her head.

Review:

I like the art.

I don’t like Annie being a hero and think it’s OOC for Peter and MJ to let her do that.

Well that’s all I have to say for this issue....okay I’ll elaborate.

Yeah...the art continues to be immensely great and whilst I find it OOC BS for Annie to be a hero...I have to admit that just looking at her as a hero in her own right...it is really endearing.

And this stems from Conway’s ability to write a pretty decent child character. I feel as time has gone by many writer’s have become more skilled at doing this when in the past it used to be an almost guaranteed path to something insufferable.

In the first two pages alone we get a look at her creativeity, a trait stemming mostly from her mother but a little bit from her Dad and also her quick thinking when she covers up her revealing doodle by eating it. Whilst childish and unnecessary it underscores Annie’s youth. We’ve seen Peter go to lengths to cover up his identity and Annie is simply doing the same but in a more childish manner. The artwork even reflects this in places as it becomes a little more simplistic and a little more cartoony which makes sense when the series is being viewed through the eyes of a child.

We’re also introduced to more supporting characters in the form of Annie’s Principal, teacher and school mates. With their introduction we now have a pool of characters and environment for each member of the Parkers to interact with and follow respective subplots about Peter=Bugle, MJ=the store, Annie=the school, an ingenious move on Conway’s part to add variety and dimensions to each family member. The principal character is maybe too hard an attempt to give a character a gimmick, but it is early days. The other characters though are decent enough and there is ground for some interesting dynamics between Stephanie, Jermaine and Annie. Annie looks after Jermaine and is turn looked after by the older Stephanie despite Annie being the stronger of the two. It’s an interesting flip on Peter’s lonely and bullied school days but isn’t quite as wild and popular as MJ’s.

As for the dialogue same story from previous issues though Conway does a good job of reflecting the nervous, ineloquent, jumpy and fast thought processes going through the mind of a child...even one who says OMG in her head...by the way has anyone seen by walking stick?

Moving on...Annie’s Spider Sense.

It is an interesting power that has a lot of potential so long as it isn’t misused too much and doesn’t become equivalent to Madam Web’s abilities. It is also something that renders her unique to her parents...but not her ‘uncle’ Kaine.

Yeah...Kaine’s Spider Sense lets him read the future too. Is this a deliberate rip-off? I dunno.

Her debut double page spread and in fact all of her action panels once more made me more open to what is otherwise not a great visual design for her costume. It’s one of those suits which makes sense realistically but too the point of not being very good visually. In fact her undersuit which is just black with a red chest is much better visually speaking. But the one aspect I’m not okay with at all is the pigtails. I think they are cute on her but as part of the costume look too dorky and offer too easy a weakness for enemies to exploit...which they do in this very issue when they capture her. Its hard enough believing that Peter would allow Annie to play hero let alone believing he and fashonista Mary Jane (who’s made a point of making her hair more practical in costume) would allow Annie to swing around like that.

If nothing else it further makes the deduction of her and the Parkers’ identities easier to figure out. Your looking for a family of three, one man, one woman and a young girl, both ladies with long red hair, the girl wearing it in pigtails. Hmm...how could we figure this out? Maybe Peter Parker the famous Spider-Man photographer who’s daughter has long red hair like her mother and wears that hair in pigtails could tell us? Then again maybe the Parkers don’t care that mucha bout people deducing their secrets considering they all are fairly liberal in throwing their names and familial titles around.

You’d think at the very least Normie Osborn who along with his family has a close personal relationship with the Parkers and probably would know who Annie is would be able to deduce this. Even if he is only aged...um...actually I don’t know how old he is. He’s acting like an adult but he’s much shorter than his assistants and clearly younger too. If you presume Annie was born circa Mayday in the Clone Saga and she’s at most 10 years old now then Normie would be like...15 tops? And that’s really pushing it. The letters page claims that there is a reason or this age dilemma but I have no idea what that could refer to.

The action scenes are well drawn and Annie’s defeat of the dinosaur was an example of her inheriting her paren’ts resourcefulness, but the big problem is that it mostly rehashed what we saw in previous issues and gave us little plot advancement. At least advancement from where previous issues left off. We’ve fleshed out Annie and made note of her powers but in terms of all the Mole Man stuff we’ve moved maybe one pace beyond issue #2 which itself only moved like 2 paces beyond issue #1.

Mole Man is...ehhhh...his weird nutty dialogue is starting to enter a danger zone where it will become too over the top and insufferable. Its trying too hard to be self-aware that he’s a ridiculous character. In contrast Annie’s joke about being grounded was much funnier and Peter’s reaction of quiet pride and light reprimanding was priceless.

Overall this issue gets a....B I think. It was really compromised by the limited plot advancement but the set up stuff with Annie and her characterization kept it afloat well enough.

#RYV Thoughts #Renew your vows #Gerry Conway #Ryan Stegman #mjwatsonedit #mary jane watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #Annie May Parker #Spider-Man #Peter Parker #Spider-Man: Renew Your Vows #Mayday Parker

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laggingindicators2-blog · 7 years

Text

Notes from Tin House Workshop 2017

Craft pointers

Witt: Go through each line and ask, “is this true?”

Witt: Reader needs to be able to trust an author’s structure quickly, to give the author the freedom to be lyric

Manual Gonzales: Concrete details give you the space to make abstractions work; build an architecture that gives the abstractions shape

E.g. Marie-Helene Bertino’s short story about a unicorn, which is actually an allegory about the things parents leave behind. When she got stuck with the story, she went back to the physical details (e.g. what it was like to try to stick a unicorn into the back of a Subaru) to avoid the metaphor/abstraction overwhelming the writer and the narrative

Gonzales: “Don’t write about death. Write about the hard pews, the body, the smell of incense coils which clashes with your aunt’s perfume.” Find moments that are shapeless and give them shape

Gonzales: How do you know you’re choosing the right details? Don’t overwrite—not trying to aim for exactitude, but to show details that are significant. “Don’t talk about the type of table if the table isn’t going to sprout wings and fly.” The goal isn’t to capture the world, it’s to create the world and people so that it seems real to the reader (fiction?)

If you’re having a problem with flow and logic, go back to chronology then figure out how you may or may not want to break it

Unexplained references can help contribute to a sense of localism but may not be understood

Sentence fragments can be a cheap way to create a mood

Agent panel

Query letter: Summarize work in a paragraph and your style

Include bio: who you are, what you’ve been doing

Want to see intentionality in the book you want to write

Mention any genuine referrals/connections upfront

Personalize query letter: refer to something in the agent’s bio or other books

Where you want to be in the world, in conversation with the world and other books

When is the best time to approach an agent?

Fiction: when finished, but partial novel/collection in some exception cases. As polished as possible, preferably not while in career crisis

Nonfiction: as fully formed as possible, but much of nonfiction is still sold on proposals and sample chapters. A proposal is a “business prospectus” so that the publisher can fund you and your research. Note that memoirs tend to operate like .the novel in terms of publishing process.

Talk about: “This is who I am, my project, how I found the project, why it matters, what should it do in the world/where does it sit in the world.”

Divorce ego from the process

When is the best time to send work out? Not when you’re feeling creative (use that time to generate, to write) but when you’re feeling meticulous and business-like

Anthony Doerr: Lecture on similes

See Flannery O’ Connor’s consistent use of imagery “so that you don’t have to at the climactic moment”. E,g, - “line of trees like a gaping mouth”; “wind through the trees like a long satisfying insuck of breath”; “there was nothing but the woods around her”

Homeric similes:

Like _(simile)_ so _____

As a _____ so ______

Emily Witt: Homeric similes are so strange because there wasn’t photography / movies / social media to build a shared ecology of images. They have to do the hard work of explanation.

Successful similes apply pressure to a story with very few words

Effective, un-cliched similes: choose the right incongruity or unexpected bridging, and you will delight the reader.

Rachel Cusk in “Outline” sends out multiple ferrymen across the river so that readers can have multiple visions.

Buluwayo stacks similes, opens up your brain to increase and intermingle what is said and what is implied

Similes should ferry us across the islands of our selves to others.

Margot Livesey’s lecture on dialogue

“Life-like” dialogue—cannot simply copy from life; we repeat ourselves, forget things, are often ineloquent. A reader would simply close the book out of frustration if written dialogues mirrored real life.

Dialogues are written in “fictional English”, pretending to be vague but often all teeth and meaning

Scenes slow things down, narration/prose speeds it up. Dialogue shows what cannot be told.

Nicholson Baker’s “Mezzanine”: example of digression and dialogue

Nuances to consider:

High or low diction?

Natural pattern of speech, or can we disrupt that pattern/rhythm?

Having characters respond precisely to each other feels too expository and can deaden the scene

How author’s own voices influence a character’s dialogues

Hilary Mantel: both narration and dialogue can create a single consciousness of how people in the 16th century thought and spoke

Panel on “useful landscapes”

Place: how you/characters respond to the physical world, not necessarily just about situating in a particular geography or environment

Not talking about setting can mean not talking about race or class, topics we’re squeamish about but have shared cultural signifiers

The idea of “not having enough talent to not use all the tools available, like place”

Natalie Diaz’s lecture: “Beyond the Kingdom of the Ear: A Wandering of the Wild Desert of Repetition”

Text on the page should not be treated as static; should treat as a body with physicality

Allan Iverson clip on “practice” (repetition)

Repetition traps us between the eye and the ear

Ocularcentrism: bias that ranks vision over other senses

Juhani Pallasmaa (Finnish architect): “Peripheral vision integrates us with space, while focused vision pushes us out of the space, making us mere spectators”

Once a thing occurs, energy has reorganized i.e. opportunity to infuse new energy every time a word is repeated, happening a new; possibility for violence, for tenderness

Definition of anaphora: the use of a word referring to or replacing a word used earlier in a sentence, to avoid repetition, such as do in I like it and so do they

Danger is taken out of repetition if we’re lulled by repetition. Need to re-engage all of our senses

Basketball analogy: Stephen Curry’s crossovers; does a similar thing each time but always fools his competitors

Repetition does not mean equivalence just because they visually resemble each other on the page. They are non-exchangeable, non-substitutable singularities

Diaz’s approach to poetry: Worry less about where it’s placed on the page, if she can feel it with her body. Look at the page in terms of disruption and possibility

Danielle Evans’ lecture on public and private selves

Interior life still best told in writing than in many other storytelling forms.

Ask what work we’re asking interiority we’re doing in our stories (ambivalence, competing desires)

Politics: the system of values where we get to decide who gets to live and who gets to die. In the context of the page, it takes the form of who we decide to depict on the page as fully human

One way to dehumanize people individually and structurally is by assuming that their interior lives are not as complex as other people’s

The gulf between who we are inside and how we present ourselves: can be about anxiety and insecurity and desire but it’s always about power

Who in the story has the power to make other people in the story perform for them? Or has to think of themselves not only as they see themselves, but as other people in the world see them. Who has to consider double-consciousness or an external gaze or some set of assumptions that has to be labored against?

How to play interiority off of action as a way of creating tension and meaning

Zolaria: Tension between childhood and adult selves that creates possibility and anxiety about what the guilt and regret might drive the character to do. Who the character wishes she had been and what she did.

To ask: Is the inconsistency in voice/language contextual? i.e. character code-switching in a different space in the story.

For a shape-shifting character, how do you know which voice is their real voice? Number of ways to think about the question - including the use of the second person: create an audience that can hear where the voice needs to move

Desire is not that interesting in fiction, we want things all the time—it’s competing desires

Paul Lisicky’s lecture on simultaneity

Inspired by music (the sound of horn players on the subway platform): how do you get simultaneity on the page? Layers, point and counterpoint in music but only one voice at a time on the page

Parantheses (Woolf), footnotes (DFW), but still doesn’t have the grace of a fugue

My thought: Glenn Gould’s “The Idea of the North” on CBC - strange radio essay

E.M. Forster: the idea of emotional time vs. clock time

Simultaneity implied in the life not led?

Emily Witt’s lecture on reportage and self-inquiry

“The New Journalism” - Tom Wolfe. Fact-based reportage that reads like novels:

Scene by scene reconstruction

Realistic dialogue

Third-person POV as if in the character’s mind

Descriptive eye (subject’s manners, clothing, eating habits, as important to be documented as their words)

Kinetic nonfiction e.g. Jon Krakauer, Susan Orleans

“The New New Journalism” - wrote in the third person, postured as being politically neutral, fact-checkers, author erased from the narrative, no longer testing the limits of form

Writing without referring to the first person

Proposal for “The New New New Journalism”: literary experimentation, factual accuracy and ethics, reportage as self-help

Creative nonfiction as a coordinate plane:

y-axis (top: journalism; bottom: memoir)

x-axis: (left: novel; right: essay, criticism, history, biography)

“...Hypocrisies and faultlines of a culture resolve themselves in our personal stories and in our bodies,” and these writers uniquely identify these faultlines in themselves and are able to describe them in the world

#thsw #writing

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handsingsweapon · 7 years

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Scars! Or affection :-)

when all of your flaws and all of my flaws are counted;

(suggested listening: here also may be very, very slightly nsfw. safe but blushworthy. idk. you’ve been warned, ok.)

“Victor.” Victor will never be tired of listening to Yuuri say his name in all of its variations, but this time there’s a little bit of an edge to it. Victor’s sitting opposite of him at the end of their bed in St. Petersburg, has tugged both of Yuuri’s feet into his lap, is currently massaging the bridge of one of them. He’s been working his way around callouses and ignoring a band-aid that Yuuri’s due to replace. “What is your deal with feet?”

Victor pauses, and then chuckles. Yuuri’s not necessarily wrong, although it’s his feet that Victor likes so much, the taper of ankle and the ballet-honed arches. There’s a way Yuuri walks sometimes, but only when he’s very determined, a prowl that was once nearly the death of Kenjirou Minami, and it starts from the balls of his feet upwards. All of it is heedlessly attractive; Yuuri never recognizes his own beauty, but that’s not why Victor is rubbing at the sore spots in his ankles and it’s not why he once kissed Yuuri’s skate. “It’s not really a foot thing,” he murmurs, and he taps his mouth once while he thinks about how best to explain it.

Behind what he’s doing now there is a drive that Victor has never put to words, though he knows it’s worth trying now. “It’s…” Surprisingly difficult to explain.

“This is the most obvious part of you that hurts,” he says, as he lifts Yuuri’s ankle and bends over to press a kiss to the bridge of his foot. “The part that suffers for the thing you love to do.”

This is Victor, trying to tell the man he intends to marry something important with his fingers, because words don’t properly convey the promise he’s making every time he does it. It’s something about harm, and how if he can’t wholly keep Yuuri from it, at least he can soothe aches, can render pain meaningful.

“Oh,” says Yuuri softly, and Victor’s suddenly very aware of the way his gaze has changed, the way it’s both softer and far more heated. They’re just one week into life together at St. Petersburg; Yuuri’s been moody while he adjusts; Victor’s been getting used to these shifts in his temperament while he makes a place for himself here.

Yuuri shakes his feet free and reclaims them, and then he crawls forward, and he kisses Victor just slightly off-center, gently, and then he’s hooked a hand into the loose waistband of the sweatpants he once thought Victor overpaid for, when they went shopping together in Barcelona. It’s the sort of thing that would’ve once made him blush from ear to ear, unmistakably forward, but tonight there’s nothing immediately sexual in the gesture, which is almost worse. “I want to see yours,” Yuuri murmurs, and Victor bravely ignores the shiver that races down his spine.

“I wasn’t finished yet,” he attempts to protest, his last defense against this new kind of intimacy. There’s no pretending that Victor hasn’t had other lovers. Just never one who’s asked, so softly, for him to strip in the early evening, with all the lights still on.

Victor’s always resisted being so examined, always a little afraid of what someone might actually see.

Yuuri smiles a little bit, like he knows exactly what Victor’s up to. Because he knows exactly what Victor’s up to, and probably also because he knows precisely the sort of tactile, shuddering mess he’s marrying, Yuuri blithely hums his response into Victor’s right ear, where his breath tickles and warms the shell. “It’s my turn, Vitenka.”

Victor doesn’t bother to hide his shiver this time. It’s entirely beyond him to deny Yuuri anything: he tugs off his socks, wiggles out of his sweats; Yuuri helps him tug his shirt over his head. Then he sits terribly still while Yuuri pulls at his left leg, massages the ankle that he’s most prone to sprains. Yuuri bends forward, and he kisses, very carefully, the slight bunion Victor has at the base of his big toe. His fingers linger on the callouses on the outside edges of Victor’s feet, and on the place where his skin’s a little bit rougher from the tight fitting of his skates. Victor’s got a greenish bruise, almost gone, in the high part of his ankle, which Yuuri also kisses, and he doesn’t stop there. Victor has a scar on the inside of his knee from a bicycle accident he barely remembers having as a child, and another on the inside of his elbow from the same incident. Across his back is a sparse constellation of freckles that Yuuri also explores, and he lavishes attention on the wrist Victor once broke, presses a soft kiss to the inside bed of his veins.

It’s a very thorough inspection, made with trembling fingers while Victor nearly forgets to breathe. Still, the subtle shaking in Yuuri’s hands is something he can’t help but ask about, even if he can only manage to do it ineloquently:

“Yura?”

For a moment Yuuri doesn’t answer him. Yuuri sits there, rubbing the outer bump of Victor’s wrist and the inside of his ankle. “I just always thought you were so perfect,” he says, voice thick and distant at the same time. “Did nobody ever think you were hurting?”

Victor tilts his chin up. “Solnyshko,” he breathes. He is the man who hid a decade of depression from an entire watching world, and he only admits to it now because Yuuri’s battles against himself are fought publicly, without the aid of the masks Victor’s become so proficient at wearing. “Those aren’t the places I hurt,” he says gently, against the corner of Yuuri’s mouth, runs his hands along Yuuri’s sides. What happens next will, in some ways, be Yuuri’s fault; he knows perfectly well how turned on Victor is by intimacy. Victor’s already shifting their weight so that he can come closer, and Yuuri’s opening his body up, expectant.

This is all the very least Victor can do for the person who helped him find his life again, this man who makes love grow too big for his body, until its clawing its way up the inside of Victor’s ribs and then spilling out of his mouth. “You already found all of those.”

#asksimanything #precious things #victuuri #ficlet

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