#and since the first real fandom i was in was small it really fostered a sense of community that just...isnt always there in todays
Hi Legion! Long time lurker and lover of your art and tags here. I always read your tags and I'm really interested in your thoughts & views on love and relationships, so I'm curious to know where you got those ideas from. Are there any videos, terms, or books you could recommend? It really resonated with me and since I'm a huge nerd my first instinct is to find more sources haha. Thank you so much!
This ask genuinely made me sit with myself and think long and hard about how my views on that stuff really formed, something I maybe took for granted a lil bit. So thanks, and I'm sorry that I can't give a nerdy answer here! It is difficult to point to specific sources, it's more of a lived-experience type thing. It truly is The Question Of All Time lmao. And boy did it get me thinking back.
I'll put my ramble under the cut if this is not interesting or what you're after, but I enjoyed the introspection still! Thank you!
My context is entirely unremarkable (middle class cishet white guy from eastern europe), but if I had to point to one thing that is the bottleneck of my views on love and relationships, I genuinely think it could be traced to my insane early childhood nat20 roll to avoid toxic masculinity pipelines. I truly believe in my bones that if I had been seduced by that stuff - and legitimately all but maybe two of my childhood friends were - I'd be a completely different, colder, worse person today. I credit only luck in that.
Where I'm from, boys of my generation were set on a very specific path very early on that was pointed veeeery far away from "love". All wrapped up in warped orthodox christianity and crypto-nationalist sentiments, stemming from our incredibly disillusioned post-soviet parent figures constantly running in survival mode. So like, I legitimately don't remember how I managed to avoid those circles and behavior patterns, and the truth is that I probably sometimes didn't? I certainly made stupid mistakes in my early teens, but I had the luxury of making them outside of the public eye of social media. More luck.
There's other alchemy of course - as a child of divorce I got a real early up-close look at the ugly results of mistrust and toxic "love", and a lot of my life back then was rebelling against that. Not that the parenting itself was always bad - my mother turned me to the arts and to stories, which eventually led me to fandom that I can now identify as a much healthier outlet for my frustrations than whatever my peers were doing with their nighttime brawls. It led me to a very crystallized idea of what I really wanted from life - not glory or patriotism or ambition, but a quiet life with the ones I loved.
That is also around the time when I let go of teenage lust as my north star and started fostering friendships instead; because like, relationships are bonds and connections, nothing more or less. Sexuality and romantic love can take as big or as small of a role in that as the parties desire, and they're entirely ornamental to the value of linking your experience with another living, breathing human. Realizing the divinity and beauty in that changes almost everything in an instant. And it is such a goofy-ass thing to say, but yeah, for a lost idiot dude like me, fandom helped me see that. Even the raunchiest fics were ultimately about belonging and emotional nakedness, and I learned to desire that more than anything else. I am trying so hard to point to something specific here, but I honestly don't know with way back then. Bioware's found family-ass games/fanfics were a big one later on, but there were so many other communities before. My memory's just bad.
But knowing I wanted love was one thing, and being a healthier, more empathetic person ready to actually get that was a whole other trek. Made a few more dumb interpersonal mistakes. And then I met my current partner, now over twelve years ago, and realized there was a version of me reflected in her eyes that I could truly chase and grow into. This all sounds super melodramatic but it was more of a terrifying thought at the time, stoking self-doubt and real worry that I was leading her into a mistake. But of course that was all a symptom of terminal self-awareness. We were in our early 20s, mature enough not to play childish emotional games, and young enough to go on that growth journey together. More luck. Found that gentle peace I had yearned for with her., and I count my lucky stars to this day.
In short, everything about my understanding of love and relationships is rooted in personal circumstance + massive amounts of luck, and especially that early course-correction away from toxic dudeness. Nothing extracurricular. And then just more and more luck piled on with time, culminating with my lovely bean. So in that sense I'm the worst person to ask this question! And times have really changed irt internet culture and fandom so I can't even point at that part as an action point either.
But if nothing else, I believe that storytelling is the ultimate shortcut in getting our dumb teenage brains over the precipice of pride and control, and towards the gentle pursuit of love in all its forms. I think that's worth articulating over and over again. Thanks for reading this long and I promise I usually interpret asks like a normal person! This is an exception!!! a big question if there ever was one
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@thedancingwalrus-blog replied to your post “Dracula Daily is really just the modern version of...”:
I do not understand this but I love you.
That's fair!
To wit: Homestuck the webcomic would post an "update" daily or close to, for long stretches of its run. Each "update" consisted of any of the following:
a picture (static or with small animations)
a sequence of pictures (static or with small animations)
either of the above plus logs (excerpts of character's chat logs between them, typed in Courier and with distinct colors identifying different characters)
a flash animation set to music without dialog/much text
an interactive flash-style mini game
Homestuck did not have an established update schedule but it did have a very loud, very invested fanbase. There were bots to announce when an update was live, and as the story progressed, a general use of the tag "upd8" was used to allow people to not be spoiled if they weren't reading in real time. (Even though much of the Homestuck experience was to read in real time, as new information was released in a steady drip, with animations and flashes being reserved for big events.)
This created a culture of feverish theorizing and high engagement, because you needed to get your theory or speculation or fanart or fanfic out RIGHT NOW before the next update dropped and changed the tone of the conversation entirely.
Because this was such an immediate, fast-paced but also unpredictable timing, it was the best and the worst of serial fandom taken to a fever pitch. It also fostered a lot of creativity and engagement and super fun theorizing as people were deconstructing the narrative in real time (which is significant, because Homestuck is primarily a story about narratives and narratology and all the things that make it work).
Dracula Daily is a mailing list that sends out emails with the relevant letters of the novel Dracula the day they're dated in the story. Therefore the experience is similar to the Homestuck updates, in that the story is fed in pieces, "in real time", at varying lengths, since each letter and piece of correspondence will reflect the character who wrote it, and part of the experience has created a community that is experiencing the book as if it was being published for the first time this way. You can totally go and read Dracula and "spoil" yourself of what's gonna happen next. A lot of people already had read Dracula at some point, before this happened. But that would be boring.
The delivery of the content in this way is part of the magic. The sense of having to decipher every bit to try and divine where the narrative is going. The way new information recontextualizes and reconfigures old information, shedding new light onto the mystery, that is also part of the experience.
I happen to think it's an amazing experience and a kind of fandom-ing that I haven't seen since Homestuck's heyday. And I'm 100% here for it, honestly.
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and Grogu makes three
So, @sweetbraveclara asked for Whouffaldi and adopting Grogu and I got enough material together to post something, but I don’t know if this is all I’m gonna fart out or if there’s more coming. It’s just sort of there--no real plot cohesion. Just scenes for this other unholy union of fandoms—what is wrong with my brain lately lol
2387 words; if y’all want a great stop for fics go read Azertyrobaz’s stuff they’re pretty great; I refuse to apologize for this what are you talking about; implications abound that Star Wars doesn’t exist in the Doctor Who universe, or if it does, then Yoda and Grogu are from a very different type of species; I didn’t know how much of a weird niche “writing children” is until I started writing myself and yeah dang the writers of The Mandalorian really spoil us don’t they; less adoption and more being an excellent pair of sitters
Clara finds that one of the Doctor’s old friends is calling in a favor: and is using it for babysitting. [scenes of Twelve, Clara, and Grogu]
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
“So… um… what is it?”
Clara looked at the creature nestled in the the Doctor’s grasp and raised an eyebrow. They had been traveling together long enough that she knew him better than to just bring just anything into the TARDIS, but at this juncture, she was at least mildly concerned that he’d lost his marbles. It was a tiny thing bundled in rough cloth that fit in the crook of his arm, with green skin, large black eyes, and long, pointed ears that made his head thrice the size with how they stuck out so far.
“It’s a child.”
“It looks like it came out of The Dark Crystal.”
“You’d be surprised what a young Mister Henson was exposed to,” the Time Lord shrugged. The Child glanced up at him and blinked slowly. “I might have promised someone I’d take care of him.”
“Him? We sure it’s a him?”
“Probably. It’s only temporary. Besides, I thought you were on sabbatical.”
“I’m on sabbatical so that I can make it not look like I haven’t aged in the past fifteen years,” Clara frowned. Oh, yeah, the little side effect of breaking the Chronolock. “Who even gave him to you?”
“Old friend calling in a favor,” the Doctor replied, a bit too cagily for Clara’s liking. “I’m probably the best sitter for him anyhow, since the wee thing’s only, what, fifty-five?”
Clara blinked. “Come again…?”
“Oh, you know, what better sitter for someone in foreign dimension than another being who has a long lifespan?” Clara folded her arms across her chest, decidedly unimpressed. “I thought you liked kids.”
“I do like kids, but you just signed us up for one for who-knows-how-long, without consulting me first.”
“…like I said: an old friend was calling in a favor.”
“…and how old is this ‘old friend’ that is the crux of this entire situation?”
The Doctor thought about that, gnawing idly on his forefinger as he did so. “Forty-seven?”
“You know what…? I’m just gonna… leave that there,” she said. Clara’s nose crinkled as she nodded and turned to walk away. “I’ll just… erm… be in the library for a tic, alright?”
Once she was gone, the Doctor glanced down at the child and shrugged. “Normally she’s much more enthusiastic about small creatures. Must have caught her on a bad day.”
The child gurgled—not that it minded at all.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
It wasn’t that Clara was cross or anything like that—no, it was the Doctor’s ship, and he could bring anything or anyone on that he liked—but she was a bit irritated that she was not consulted prior to him bringing a child on board. The kid was cute, yeah, but she wasn’t entirely certain as to what it was, let alone anything else about it. She wasn’t positive as to the relationship it had with its foster father either, or how the foster father knew the Doctor, and that lack of knowledge meant that she remained more cautious than anything else.
Luckily, the Child came with its own pram, a sort of future-chic one that looked more Jetsons than anything, that hovered about and took it places on its own. That meant that the weird eggy-shaped thing was following the Doctor around the TARDIS with wanton abandon, and no one, no where, was truly safe.
“No, your father’s ship is quite different, I can assure you,” the Doctor explained. Clara was relaxed on the upper deck of the control room, leg hooked over the armrest as she read Jane Eyre… well… it was more like pretended to read Jane Eyre as she kept an eye on the Doctor and the Child. “It runs on a completely different theorem.” The Child cooed inquisitively. “No, it has nothing to do with hyperspeed, nor wrinkling time and space. It’s more of a ship that can navigate the current inherent in the vortex in a sort of multidirectional path.”
“I thought you said he’s, you know, not even three years old for his species,” Clara mentioned, raising her voice just enough so he could hear her. “What makes you think he can understand quantum physics?”
“One can never start too young,” he defended curtly. “Grogu is an avid learner.”
“Oh, he has a name now?”
“He’s always had a name.”
“You are doing this on purpose.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” He leaned in closer to the pram, shielding his face with one hand while gesturing with the other, dropping his voice to a whisper. “She’s usually a lot funner than this.”
“Funner is not a word!”
“See? This is why your father left you with me.” The Child giggled and Clara attempted to go back to her book. Jane was first meeting Adèle, which she really did not appreciate given her current predicament, yet soldiered on. Before she knew it, the Doctor was standing next to the chair, the Child and his pram hovering just nearby.
“Yes…?”
“I was thinking about maybe going off on an adventure… a wee picnic on Gatling-VI, a moon completely covered in gardens?”
“You are trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.” He couldn’t help crack a slight grin. “Do you? I’m thinking we’ve got a few of these ahead of us in the coming while.”
“…and whose fault is that?”
The Child let out a squeak, which seemed to scandalize the Doctor.
“What language!” he gasped, trying to look more scandalized than impressed. “Clara, you hold onto him while I go and fetch the basket and blanket.” He shoved the Child in her arms and scurried off with the pram, leaving the two alone together.
“Your dad must be desperate or something,” Clara deadpanned. The Child didn’t object to that, and instead wriggled until she put him down on the floor. “What’s the matter? You don’t want to follow the Doctor, do you?”
Silently, the Child shuffled across the upper deck, reaching a low-hanging bookshelf. He grabbed the spine of a thin volume and tugged, pulling out the book with ease.
“What do you have there?” she asked. The Child lifted the book above his head, wobbled slightly, then shuffled back to her, presenting his quarry. She plucked it from his grasp and read the title. “‘Twelve Little Banthas’? I take it you want me to read this?”
A grunt—of course.
As it turned out, twelve little Banthas were playing in the snow. One heard a whistle and he had to go. The watchmaid shook her head and looked at the herd.
Why do little banthas insist on playing in the snow?
The Child glanced up at Clara as she read the line, completely serious in her inflection. The definition of a bantha was still a bit fuzzy on her end, and the Child gave her a look only matched by other small children questioning why their adult does not know basic information.
“Hey, I’m trying by best here,” Clara frowned. The Child only grunted—oh, she saw how it was.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Gatling-VI, as it was, suited their needs disturbingly well for a quick outing with a relative toddler. The Doctor and Clara were able to find a spot to spread their things out and they all ate their lunch without much incident. While they were cleaning up, the Child watched as Clara pressed a kiss to the back of the Doctor’s jaw, letting out an inquisitive noise.
“Oh, well, you see,” the Doctor stammered, face growing red, “sometimes, that’s just what people do. Your father has no one to do that with, so I’m not surprised you haven’t seen it…”
“Did he just question why I kissed you?” Clara wondered. The Doctor shrugged.
“His father is raising him on his own—there’s no one.” The Child made a noise, indignant, before going back to sipping his tea. “Okay, there was a woman once, but they never did that.”
“Why would they never kiss in front of you?” she asked. The Child put down his drink and tapped the sides of his head.
“He belongs to a sect that doesn’t take their faceshield helmets off in front of other living things,” the Doctor translated. “It is a bit extreme to most, but it doesn’t hurt anyone else and comforts him, so that’s what he does.”
“Oh… that must be a treat,” Clara deadpanned. She watched as the Child picked his tea back up and shuffled across the blanket, dropping into the Doctor’s lap. “You must be one of his favorites—complete opposite of Dad.”
“Complete…? Alright, you lost me.” Both the Doctor and the Child looked at her curiously, making her stifle a laugh due to how they tilted their heads in the exact same way at the exact same time.
“You’ve got one of the most expressive faces I’ve ever seen, and his father’s doesn’t change by being a helmet,” she explained. “Don’t tell me that’s not two completely different kinds of things to deal with.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” The Child drank more tea and his ears wriggled slightly. “At least it’s my eyebrows that are the expressive thing.”
“Uh-huh,” she chuckled. She finished packing the basket and laid down on the blanket, allowing the sunlight to warm her from above. “We should come here more often.”
“You like gardens?”
“I like not running for a change.” She closed her eyes and relaxed, only to hear some shuffling coming from the Doctor’s direction. “What are you up to?”
“You seem to have a good idea,” the Doctor admitted. She looked to the side and saw the Doctor laying down, the Child looking perturbed that his seat was now unavailable. “A kip won’t be bad.”
“Come on then; you too,” Clara said, pulling the tea away from the Child. She placed it atop the basket and laid him down between her and the Doctor, so as to block him in. Once he was down, she closed her eyes again and continued to nap…
…or, at least, she tried to, until she heard a slurping sound coming from between her and the Doctor. She opened her eyes and saw that the Child was drinking his tea again, even though there was no way for him to have gone around that quickly. Raising an eyebrow, she took the tea away again and replaced it atop the basket.
“It’s time for a nap, got it?” she warned gently. She laid back down again, only for her to catch sight of the mug float its way over her body and into the Child’s waiting hands.
Of course he could do that.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-
The pram stood there empty, not necessarily blocking the TARDIS’s corridor, but still made it annoying to get around. She placed her hands on her hips and inhaled, then exhaled, slowly. How had it only been two hours since their outing?
“TARDIS? Where the blood hell are they?”
The lights hummed—on the ship. Ha, cheeky answer.
“Where are they within your labyrinthine confines?”
That was a sufficient enough question and the TARDIS’s baseboards glowed, showing her the path that would presumably bring her to the Doctor and the Child. She followed it, the pram following her in turn, going down several twists and turns until she found them in the kitchen, with the Doctor giving the Child a bath in the sink.
“Oh, and what’s this?” she asked. He didn’t turn towards her, but shrugged.
“Got a bit of gunk on ourselves,” he said. She hugged him from behind, relishing in the fact he was only in a t-shirt on his upper half, presumably for the safety of his sleeves. “It looks like the frog didn’t agree with his constitution.”
“When did he eat a frog?”
“On Gatling-VI—you weren’t looking.”
“This is what I get for travelling with aliens,” she sighed. She looked around the Doctor’s arm to see the Child sitting in a mountain of bubbles, looking at the curiously as he scooped some up in his hand, looked at them, and closed his hand in order to squish them. He tried to shove a bunch in his mouth, but the Doctor redirected it with what looked like an extremely practiced motion.
“None of that,” he chided. “I don’t know what your father does to clean you normally, but here we don’t eat bubbles.”
“Maybe they are edible for him?” Clara offered.
“They’re not.” He began to scrub gently behind one ear, then the other. “I’m fairly certain that he is not able to digest soap any more than you or I can.”
“I tried,” she told the Child, who giggled in response. “Don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you for the tea.” She then looked at the Doctor, who was busying himself with tiny toes. “Why did you leave the pram in the middle of the corridor?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, it didn’t follow us?”
“No, silly, it didn’t. It’s difficult to look this attractive and then not lose points because the self-propelled pram refused to follow you.” With the Child clean, she watched as the tiny creature was lifted out of his bath and plopped onto a fluffy towel sitting on the counter. The Doctor wrapped him up in it before draining the sink and rinsing out the tub. As he did that, Clara dried the Child off, getting him to giggle more. “Mmm… maybe his father needs to have an adults-only job more often.”
“Possibly.” He bent down and pecked Clara on the lips. “I think I can take it from here.”
“Nope—Auntie Clara has this one,” she teased. She picked up the Child and held him close, with him grabbing hold of her shirt as she did so. Giving the Doctor a smile, she stepped back a couple paces and turned around, heading for the door.
“I knew you’d like him.”
“Uh-huh.
“I’ll be in the study.”
“Better have Twelve Little Banthas ready.” She tickled the Child as she carried him out, loving the shriek he gave. “Before we do that,” she whispered to her charge, you’re going to get that box the Doctor’s been hiding from me on top of the wardrobe, got it?” The Child’s eyes got wide in curioisty.
Okay, she wasn’t cross even in the slightest. He was a pretty cute kid to have around, after all.
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I bet Hero had a blast growing up with Gen around! He's the perfect mountain to climb, has the best shoulders (and head) to ride on and can go 10 extra rounds because he's not getting tired!
Featured here along-side my own little non-canon addition - Vicks. So let's have some head-canons for him (both boys, actually):
Vicks is Sonya's and Mesmeroth's son. She was 3 months pregnant when the Direfolk War ended and Mesmeroth left. She moved to Arne (with Gen) and lived at Mayfair's house. (Mesmeroth doesn't know, though).
Given her depression at the time, Vicks was a tad early. He's been an "easy" child, being silent and more of an observer than an active boy.
Hero joined 3/4 of a year after Vicks birth, himself a newborn at that time. Despite his difficult first 24-42 hours (because Mesmeroth had no real means to take care of him even if he had wanted to) he was pretty much instantly the constant awake and active one. Since Sonya was still breastfeeding, it was a no-brainer for Mayfair to hand her Hero as well.
People always thought Hero was the older one, given his greater strength and activity. He was always leading, Vicks was always following.
They were raised a little as twins and they were told and believed that Sonya was their both mother and the shy guy on the picture with black hair, Theo at that time still, was their father.
They were told that Theo was killed during the war. No connection has been made to Mesmeroth.
They both go to school in Arne and start their training with Master Mayfair.
Vicks is a practitioner of magic, but during his time growing up the Mage Guild was finally banished from the White City and magic was even 'somewhat' outlawed. Sonya begins to teach him in more secrecy but as Vicks becomes older he starts to feel insecure about his magic.
Instead, he wants to go to the White City and learn directly at the Knight's Guild, trying to hide his magical abilities to not be shunned. Hero is happy in Arne (he's also got a bit of a crush on a girl).
Since Sonya is regularly in the White City (due to her studies and work at the hospital), she takes Vicks and puts him into the Knight's Order there. He remains there but comes to visit regularly. Sonya sees him there often also.
Vicks somehow manages to catch Archimedes's eye. The attention flatters the boy and he becomes a loyal personal Knight of the Grand Regent. He get's to know Trin, of course. Maaaaaaybe he's got a bit of a crush on her at some point but it's quickly forgotten.
Even after Sonya meets Mesmeroth again, she isn't sure when and how to tell her sons the truth. So, unfortunately, Vicks learns it from Archimedes. And his mind is poisoned against his parents. Sonya has a hard time connecting to her son and more than before fosters hatred for Archimedes.
Hero and Vicks were really close before, but now at age 16+ they somewhat drift apart. Vicks does tell him that Sonya isn't his real mother, but he doesn't know any more than that. He hasn't told Hero about Mesmeroth, though.
Hero learns the truth indeed only when he meets Mesmeroth and fights him.
Vicks is the pilot for Everturso.
After the Catastrophe, he reconciles with his mother and brother. Everturso is the only Living Fortress that was destroyed so soon. Oceanhorn remains at the White City ruins and Sealurk elsewhere.
And that's it. xD Hahahaha. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the art. I have more coming, but I am also super busy sorting out the Oceanhorn Fandom wiki! It's all new and shiny now! We're a small team and if you want to add some details and contribute, please come by!
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Imagine Requested!!!
Imagine : Sirius black x daughter! Platonic obviously)) where the reader is about to start another year at Hogwarts but she doesn’t want too go because they’re finally a “proper family”
Auhtor notes: I love Harry Potter and I’m stunned I haven’t wrote many Harry Potter imagines (maybe a handful) so this was fun! I did change the narrative slightly! I loved writing this and I hope you enjoy it!
Did I proof read : 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 slightly
Rating: pg13 mentioning of sex.
Fandom : Harry potter ⚡️⚡️✨⚡️✨
Word count: ........ I honestly dont know
Hope you enjoy!
“Sweet Pea we gotta get a move on it if we are going too make the train”
Hearing your dad on the other side of your door, you huffed out, hating this - you hated that you finally got everything you wanted. Too have too leave for school! The irony didn’t lose you, you lose too consider Hogwarts you’re home then your dad found you. Now it was just a evil reminder that your leaving your home.
Laying on your bed you covered your head with the blanket rolling over you had No interest in going back too Hogwarts!
Hearing the door knock again you grumbled too yourself hearing the door open knowing your Dad popped his head into the door looking around seegin your messy room- you weren’t packed, you had Nothing packed up . Your Cat Caspain was curled up on her little cat tower chewing on her favorite toy mouse that your uncle Remus gave her last year.
Sirius blacked stepped into the room seeing the destruction of your room- the last time he was in here- it was cleaned.. you were packed and Even Caspian had her favorite little bling collar on. He’s eyes burrowed seeing the lump in the bed. He stepped over as he reached over grabbing your leg shaking it weakly, “Come on sleepy head.”
“I’m not going.”
You stated as you curled up more into the bed. Sirius would be a fool If he said he didn’t see this coming. Before he broke out of Azkaban he knew your situation- Remus fought for custody but with his condition No one thought he was a suitable parent. The women (who both you and Sirius refuse too your biological mother) was a Awful women. She was a true follower too Voldemort- and only had you because you would be a pure-blood and she was planning too give you too the Dark lord as a gift. She wanted too be the Dark lords wife and used Sirius and his heart too achieves that. Thankfully for everyone involved. Voldemort had No interested in having a daughter. So she tossed you away- where you were found by the Longbottoms then giving too the proper authority and then Sirius was arrested for the murders of Lily and James potter and you were shuffled too one foster home too another. The last one you went too before you started Hogwarts you were basically a slave. Having 9 foster siblings you cooked, cleaned, did everything for your foster parents and All you Ever wanted was a family. Then school started.
Once at school you found Hogwarts too be your home- then Remus arrived and he told you stories about your Dad.- from the first story you wished and Wished for your Dad back so you could have a real Family.
The wish was granted- the summer was amazing even hiding with Remus and Sirius you had a Dad. Even Remus became apart of your family and it was perfection but School! School was going too Ruin it.
“don’t you want too go back too see your friends?”
Grumbling you said No as Sirius chuckled, “well I. know two boys who’s heart will break if you don’t return.”
That got you too uncover your face looking at your dad as you spoke, “how you know about that?”
Sirius grinned brightly seeing his daughter face she looked so much like him it still stunned him sometimes seeing her. The same brown hair the curious eyes. Only thing different between the two was that you werne’t much into getting in trouble. But being best friend with Harry Potter you were always in trouble. Espically after last year when you left with Sirius- when Harry confessed his feelings for you.. and So did Neville longbottom.
How your dad knew about that was stunning. He spoke, “moonie talks.”
“What a gossip!” You frowned covering your face again as he chuckled grabbing the blankets pulling them down as he spoke, “what about Hermione? She can’t handle the boys alone-“
“Hermione has Ginny.- she’ll be fine.” You said grabbing your blanket again. Until he pulled your blanket off again. Looking at you. “Why don’t you want too return? You love Hogwarts.”
Sitting up you looked at him as you spoke, “I Just got you back! I don’t- I don’t want too leave- can’t I take a year off or- home school? Remus can teach me.”
He sighed heavily as he spoke, “It’s not safe- we barely got by this summer- your safer at Hogwarts”
“Dad- I don’t want too leave.”
He reached over grabbing your hand softly as he spoke, “I don’t want you too leave either but you have too- I have too take your oo the train station- I want a normal life for you y/n. And a normal experiences. And Me waving you goodbye at the train station is normal. I can rest easier if your at Hogwarts Safe.- you will come. Back for Christmas.- then this summer- hopefully I can get a safer situation for us.”
“Dad-“ you pleaded as he stood up as he pulled his wand out as he packed your bags.
“I’m going too cry at the train station don’t’ make me cry now too! Making you go back too Hogwarts is hard on me too kiddo. Besides I will write letters and we can talk whenever you want.” You sighed knowing you lost the battle as you nodded your head shifting up too your feet as you left.
“How is it possible you went a entire year without deciding between Harry Or Neville?” Hermione asked as you both sat up in your room- after the tri wizard tourment everyone was on high alert and your home has turned into the base for the order. Too get too and talk about plans. It was a busier summer then you expected. The door was opened you were happy Harry wasn’t here yet- a break from the heartthrob that is Harry Potter and the Sweetness of Neville Longbottom was something you needed. Too give your head a break.
“I don’t know! But it’s – did I tell you what Neville- Oh hI dad.”
Catching your dad grinning at th doorway you looked at him. Sirius craved this. A Normalcies. He has always wanted a large family too have a family like the potters. Whenever he visited it wa full of light and happiness and having you home- and even those the world was trouble it was Nice too stumble upon you talking about boys. Even those he didn’t want you too Date EVER! It was a normal thing for a teenage girl too talk about. Espically too her best friend. Y/N even with having Harry as her best friend was a Ray of Light. The only goodness in his life and hearing her laughing with Hermione and having the house full of the weasleys kids running around making what was once a awful place too be full of fun. Y/N got in as much trouble as the twins when it came too cleaning up the place on Molly’s request but this. Quite day where the meetings ended early and everyone was getting ready for Harrys’ arrival too hear the girls gossiping he couldn’t help but be happy that you weren’t tormented about what happened.
“dad!” You asked as he shook his head, “you know Harry’s arriving today?”
“what really?”
You said as he nodded his head, “so maybe keep the love talk about him too a minimum especially if the door is open.” You groaned reaching over grabbing the teddy bear that you have had since forever you were found with it. Sirius remembers buying it for you when you were born. You threw it at the door as he chuckled closing the door before he got the blunt of your attack. You had a wicked arm.
Twelve years later****
How! How can he be so late?
Being late was one thing- but too be late on a blistering hot day making you wait outside in the blistering hot sun and the humidity was cruel. Where is he? Looking around not seeing your fiancé anywhere. Ugh! You thought. You were suppose too be at Ginny’s and Harry’s house already too celebrate a birthday of their son.
Your eyes were closed too Shield ourself from the sun as you waited . All of the sudden you felt soft lips press on your neck. Knowing exactly whom it was. You smiled letting Neville kiss your neck.
“sorry I’m late love.”
Opening your eyes looking over your shoulder seeing Neville. You smiled, “why you late babe?”
He smiled kissing you on the lips. “Because I’m a stupid- stupid man making someone like you wait”
You couldn’t hold the laughter in hearing him say that. He chuckled softly realizing how corny that sounded as you got up wrapping your arms around his neck.
It’s been over twelve years since your dad died. Going thru that portal. Leaving you a official orphan again.it was hard too move on. Harry after Sirius died. Shoved you away. He didn’t want you involved in anything that involved the Horcux’s or anything with Voldemort. The only saving grace was Neville. He’s Soft soul, his determination too protect the Hogwarts students when Severus took over as the headmaster. Being the last too the party too realize you loved Neville all along was typical. You never understand your own feelings. It’s why it took so long too agree too marry. Neville asked yo right after the battle of Hogwarts and you laughe.d and it got too the point that he said you had too ask. Wanting the whole nine yards. The romantic gestures the roses, if Neville had he’s way he would have you writing in the clouds how much you loved him. What really happened was you both were fighting over something silly and you blurted out how can you have such a stupid husband. Then he corrected you and your big eyes grew larger as you told him too fix that then.
Then Neville lunged towards his nightstand pulling out he’s gran wedding Ring. That he had tucked away for 11 years. Waiting too have it on your finger.
With Remus Gone, Sirius Gone, even Dumbledore you asked Hagrid too walk you down the aisle. Who was deeply honoured. You and Neville convinced / begged headmisstress mcCgonal too allow you too have a small wedding at Hogwarts. Which she gladly accepted. The wedding was next week.
‘whoa- that is some bull if I ever heard it.” He chuckled kissing you quickly wrapping his arms around you. “I was getting you a push present.”
Your head titled looking up at Neville, “babe- Push presents are for when I givebirth too your baby.”
He realized his mistake as he groaned covering his face with his hands freeing you. But you freed his hands from his face as he spoke, “I meant a wedding gift- I found you a push present for when you give birth.” You chuckled hearing that. Smiling, “oh yea? Thinking about that already huh?”
He chuckled getting more at ease letting himself forget the embarrassment he just caused himself. Leaning his forehead too yours. “I’ve been ready since we graduated” you chuckled hearing that stealing a kiss. “I know. But you know my motto- first comes love. Then comes marriage then comes-“
“me with a baby carriage I know- you know that motto is a bit shorter by this time next week. Just me with a baby carriage. Next.” You chuckled reaching up kissing him. “Come on Daddy we gotta go. Were already late.”
Neville blushed hearing that as he grabbed your hand as you appriacate too Harry’s home.
You didn’t see him.
A black dog was sitting in the alley watching you listening into your conversation with Neville. The dog strolled into the alley and disappeared.
“How long until Neville is begging for a baby?” Ginny asked as you laughed standing in the girls bedroom, your old bed was in the corner. Thankful it was summer so the schoo was empty. the boys were getting ready in the boys room. You laughed as Hermione stood up pinching at your dress. “It’s a bit stug” you bite your bottom lip worried about that you figured it would be but also hoped it wouldn’t. Ginny stood up walking over helping too close the clasp of your dress. “Impossible!”Hermione begin a genius waved her wand and fixed your dress as you turned too them. As Hermione looked at you. “Oh goodness- he can’t beg can he- are you pregnate?” Your eyes grew large as you spoke, “How-“
“that glow-“
“you mean that buckets of sweat!” Ginny commented looking at you. Seeing it herself. She was stunned as you spoke up, “Neville doesn’t know! So Zip it!”
They huddled over hugging you tightly as you hugged them. Getting too your reception tent you stood in there waiting for the wedding too start you felt a twinge of sadness thinking about your dad. You wished he was here. But Hagrid wore he’s best attire and was telling you stories about your first year at Hogwarts.you smiled until you heard a voice you haven’t heard in years.
“Sweet pea- your breathtaking.”
You turned fast seeing your dad as you gasped dashing over bulldozing your dad as you hugged him. “Where you been?- how- you died/“
Hearing the music starting Hagrid said it was time. As he walked out. Knowing it should be Sirius who walks you down. You looked at your dad stunned as he offered his arm. “Can I please.”
You nodded your head, “I have so many questions.”
“I’ll answers all of them- later this is a big day.”
Stunned that as all you were so was everyone at the wedding. And at the reception everyone begged for details espically Harry who tested Sirius like Lupin has done in the past, Sirius answered every question and he promised too tell you all tomorrow but tonight Sirius wanted too enjoy the wedding. Seeing you happy was his happiest, when the mother and son dance started Sirius asked too dance with you, of course you accepted
*****Bonus telling Neville and Sirius your pregnate****
Men are clueless- Every women at your wedding Knew what was up when you refused any adult beverage. Neville assumed you didn’t want too forget a thing. Which he thought was Sweet. Nothing else. Even Sirius did’t clue in. Molly Weasley, the headmisstress Every female congratulated you on both a marriage and a baby. You had too tel them all too shut up cause Neville didn’t know yet.
That was a week ago. You wanted too tell Neville sooner but with your father coming back too life, and your Honeymoon where Neville barely let you out of bed. Since the boy wanted a family with you for years, and the only thing stopping you was the fact you wanted too be married first, and after years of begging he finally got his wish, and you wanted a family too. But being pregnant already you felt slightly selfish with not telling him. But it was a GOOD HONEYMOON! So it wasn’t the time. But now you were home. Sitting with Neville and your dad as you spoke, “I should of told you- sooner.. espically since Everyone seems too know now..”
“what’s wrong?” Neville asked as he reached over grabbing your hand. You grabbed his hand with your free hand as bluntly told him. “Ive- I’m two months pregnate.”
You expected Neville too bulldoze you and hug you. What happened was he fainted you gasped as Sirius stepped over hugging you tightly. As you gasped asking if Neville was alright.
After a few moments Neville woke up as he spoke, ‘How- months? How? We were careful.”
Looking at him stunned as you spoke, “aren’t you happy?”
“babe. I am- I just0 how?”
Rubbing your head as you spoke, “remember that musical we went too see- the-“ you clinched your face not wanting too bluntly say you had “sexy” time in a alleyway because neither of you could wait too get home, you did NOT want too say that Infront of your FATHER!! Neville face went blank as you spoke, “good effort at the honeymoon those.” Sirius chuckled at your awful joke as he spoke, “I am so happy for yu sweet pea”
Looking at your dad you spoke, “Don’t you dare leave again- I will never forgive you”
“I wont.”
A baby!’ Neville said again before fainting for a second time. ‘
“Oh Nev.”
@xthemediatorx
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Why is your user hopeshoodie? I liked bublybabynails better
LOL I definitely lost a lot of 'brand recognition' or whatever when I changed it, but bubblybabynailpolish was just too long and too obscure. Conversely, I could talk about the hoodie scene for hours.
I'm obsessed with how Noah and Hope interact and treat themselves and each other, in that scene (and the baby scene) specifically.
Ok first of all I love how MC’s only tangentially involved, we hear Noah and Hope arguing off screen, we see people’s reactions to that, but MC isn’t involved until after they’re done arguing. It’s a really organic way to incorporate conflict, because other things like Shannon/Jo fighting or Lottie/Priya fighting it feels like MC is thrust into it and doesn’t have a reason to be involved.
But we get to play the aftermath of the hoodie fight. We get to have both Hope and Noah confide in us about how they’re actually feeling. And how they’re feeling is so nuanced and realistic, I love it. Hope is overwhelmed because she feels beholden to Noah.
Her pride (she told all the girls she didn’t want a short-term fling and clearly has a chip on her shoulder from men not treating her how she deserves)
her fear (about being in the game without a clear couple and clear desire to do well in the game)
her social pressure (everyone keeps reinforcing that Nope is such a good couple and she wants to keep that façade)
her genuine interest in Noah and enjoyment of the domesticity and intimacy he provides
On top of all of that, she later acknowledges she has a temper and it’s clear in the game that she’s having a hard time dealing with the stress of competition and anger at Noah. Instead of productively working on that (which like… who would even be able to do that in the villa), she scolds and yells at Noah. Then when shuts down in reaction to that and leaves the situation, that further incenses her. It’s not right, but it’s real. She’s not a bad person, but chasing Noah down to continue yelling at him is clearly a bad thing to do.
Besides that, they clearly have physical attraction, but Noah fundamentally isn’t what Hope wants. She loves how he’s comfortable in his masculinity and that he dotes on her, but she also wants someone who a bit of austerity to them. Noah’s a librarian who’s into fandoms, he lacks that machismo that she wants. And she wants someone who will match her career driven and social lifestyle, while he’s outspoken about wanting a family and being fine with where his career is. So there’s frustration on her end of wanting Noah (and to a certain extent expecting him) to be this suave, ambitious man that he’s not, but still liking him.
And that’s all been building up, and they have been since day 2. Hope and Noah vacillate wildly from being intensely domestic and intimate, to antagonizing each other, and I think that’s all because they just don’t know each other super well and neither are super satisfied with the relationship.
And Noah's not 100% satisfied in a relationship with Hope either
Noah’s a people pleaser without a backbone, and while he clearly enjoys Hope’s romantic overtures, he doesn’t want to put in the work to address her insecurity or to communicate with her. He's subject to all the same external pressures, but then add on top of that him being so nonconfrontational and he's paralyzed.
She does have a temper, and that clearly puts him off. Instead of communicating that to her or working on it, he pretends it doesn’t happen afterwards and when he’s in the moment he’ll run away or shut down. If his reaction to MC pointing out he’s being unfair to both Priya and Hope is anything to go off on, I imagine there’s quite a bit of gaslighting and blame shifting on his end too.
To a lesser extent than her, he also wants her to be someone different than she is. His “ladylike” comment and surprise at the mean tweets challenges belies that he thinks and wants Hope to be this bubbly, supportive, decorous woman that would be a good mother and wife.
So these two are simultaneously reckoning with how they might not be happy in this relationship, and it comes to a head in the SHITTIEST way possible. I love their argument.
Hope's overwhelmed and getting upset about things that don't matter (her hoodie string being pulled out). Noah, being a poor interpersonal communicator and only focusing on the small details he can fix, belittles her by saying he'll buy a new one. She interprets that he's calling her shallow (which in a way he is), then retaliates by making a classist comment back at him. As the fight escalates from there, they're both arguing about things other than what they're actually saying and separate from the other's grievances.
I'm just obsessed with the scene of MC talking to Hope afterward. She has such clarify and self possession that she's unable to have in moments of heated emotion, and I love how she lays out everything that's bothering her to me, her bestie, but can't do it for Noah. It really shows that MC/Hope have built this mutually supportive and open communication that Noah/Hope have not fostered together.
And then Noah being a doofus and fixing the string is v cute and misguided, and I love that they're both working towards fixing it, even when they're not together.
Hope and Noah are the most interesting part of LITG, idc what anyone says. They're just so fundamentally wrong for each other but try so hard despite it, and make each other miserable in the process.
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AO3 Tag Game
Tagged by @therealstartraveller776 Thank you so much!!
1. How many works do you have on Ao3?
707. Though several are multi chapter and several are 100 word drabbles.
2. What is your total Ao3 word count?
1229547, but that’s not totally accurate because it includes the Mercy Street Murder Hotel Round Robin which clocked in at over 54K and the Mercy Street Cruise Ship shared fic which was around 38K.
3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?
Roughly 50-- the top fandoms are Mercy Street, Grishaverse, Foyle’s War, Poldark, Little Women. But I’ve written in some much smaller fandoms like Betsy-Tacy, ANZAC Girls and Testament of Youth.
6 Fandoms: Mercy Street, Grishaverse, Little Women, GLOW, ADOW, Foyle’s War
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
1. what it is to be a crescent moon
2. A Wife--at daybreak I shall be
3. She’s never out of sight
4. The subtlest fold of the heart
5. Bear with the truths I would tell you now
5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?
Yes. I appreciate when people take the time to comment and I like answering questions or discussing narrative choices. I include footnotes often and I like it when other people share info in their comments. And what can I say, I was brought up well-- in my first real fandom, Mercy Street, it was de rigueur to respond to comments and the comment threads were often long and lively.
6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?
In Because I could not stop for death, I killed off every major character in Mercy Street in a series of drabbles, though technically that had a happy ending because Bullen died. I don’t write a lot of angsty endings-- the angst usually comes along the way, with a happier resolution.
7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?
Um, yes. Probably the Mercy Street/Umbrella Academy crossover.
8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?
Not really. I did once receive a comment “Can someone write a Christmas story” on a story I posted in July, in a fandom where there already was a Christmas story.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Yes. But generally not very explicit unless there is a Very Good Reason. For example, I’ve written a fic featuring explicit postpartum sex because the tension in the story had to do with the alterations made within the characters by childbirth. Usually though, my smut is trends towards the evocative and poetic, with plenty of room for reader imagination to fill in the details.
10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know of.
11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Yes. Though not often and only since the pandemic, in a group effort to lifts the spirits of the small but still mighty remaining members of the Mercy Street fandom. I freely admit I’m not terrifically good at co-writing because I want too much authorial control ;)
12. What’s your all time favorite ship?
One? You’re kidding, right? Here are some top contenders: Mary Phinney/Jed Foster, Sam Sylvia/Ruth Wilder, Anne Shirley/Gilbert Blythe, Jo March/Friedrich Bhaer, and though I’ve never written for them, Dana Scully/Fox Mulder.
13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?
Mercy Street
14. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?
I have a real soft spot for “The etherealization of common sense” which is a Mercy Street Phoster fic including math, letters and Mary Phinney getting angry.
Clearly, “what it is to be a crescent moon” is the favorite of my followers!
Tagging: @fericita-s @theburnbarreljester @tortoisesshells @helenvader @sagiow @montmartre-parapluie @kivrin and anyone else who wants to play! Consider yourself tagged!
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Habits | M.G.
A/N: So, I combined my submission for @maggiescarborough‘s writing challenge with a request that I got. It’s pure angst, but I still hope you enjoy. Also, I’m glad I’m back to uploading regularly!
Pairing: Michael Gray x Reader
Word Count: 1649
Type: angst
Summary: Michael leaves for America and when he gets back, there is nothing left to save.
Tag List: @livingforbarnes @multi-fandom-iimagines @lovemissyhoneybee @peakyblindersengland @lucillethings @callmesunshinexx @simonsbluee @anyasthoughts @sophieshelby
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
You had never met Henry. You had never met the sweet, innocent boy who knew nothing about guns and murder and violence, who knew nothing about the Peaky Blinders and their business. The boy that had helped his foster mom pick apples from trees and his foster dad cut the lawn. The one that had worn colourful ties and light brown trousers with suspenders.
But you had had the privilege to meet Michael before everything went south.
You had helped him find his mother’s home after he had escaped from the country. Birmingham was big and easy to get lost in. You had run into him while he had been wandering cluelessly around Small Heath, a piece of paper with an address in hand.
“May I help you?” you had asked him.
There had been uncertainty in his eyes. “I’m looking for my mother.”
“Is that her address?” you had said, pointing at the note between his fingers. Michael had nodded and passed it over to you. Only a quick glace was necessary for you to realise who he had been looking for.
You had huffed surprised. “Polly Gray is your mother?”
“That’s what the man had told me …”
His voice had been a little shaky. You had quickly noticed that he was from the city. “What man?”
“He said his name was Thomas Shelby.”
You had inhaled deeply when the two last words had left his lips. If this young man really was Polly Gray’s son, then he clearly did not know what he was getting himself into. And of course, Tommy had made sure to take this boy away from his foster family just to expand his army. At least that’s what the Shelby family seemed to have become.
Still, you explained the way to Mrs. Gray’s home to the quiet stranger in front of you. Though, you couldn’t hold back a comment. It had hung at the tip of your tongue. “Be careful …”
He had noticed that the unawareness of his name was the reason for your pause.
“Michael.”
“Michael,” you had repeated. “The Shelby’s are living a very dangerous lifestyle. You don’t seem anything like them. Don’t get caught up in their business. It’ll ruin you.”
You had saw him gritting his teeth. Probably not what he wanted to hear from some random girl on the street in an unknow city.
So, he had simply thanked you for your help and took off.
After that, you didn’t see Michael for a while. And you had almost forgotten about the handsome country boy, when one day you spotted him walking towards you on the street. You were on your way to get some groceries at the shop nearby, planning on baking a lovely apple crumble for your family.
At first, you were unsure if you should keep your head down and ignore him. Walk past and act as if you didn’t recognise him. But your eyes wouldn’t obey. They kept moving to the young man, now dressed in a clearly expensive suit. His hair was slicked back, making him look like a million pounds.
You cursed under your breath for being so captivated by him and tore your gaze away with much effort.
Since Michael was not born yesterday, he had spotted you looking at him. He stopped in his tracks just as you were about to pass him and greeted you kindly.
“Oh, hello Michael.”
“How have you been?”
You shrugged. “Normal?”
Michael chuckled at your response.
“What about you? Have you settled in with your new family?”
“Well, technically they’re my real family,” he corrected you promptly. “But yes, they have been very welcoming. I even got a job in Tommy’s company. Since I went to school the longest, I’m pretty good with numbers.”
“Sounds great,” you said. You felt uneasy knowing he was a Shelby now. The ones who people avoided when they went to the pub or walked down the Small Heath alleys. The ones that made their blood run and their heart beat faster. That made deals with men even more fearsome than themselves.
“Are you on your way home?” he asked.
You shook your head. “I’m going to the store to buy a few things for dinner tonight.”
“I could accompany you, if you like,” Michael offered, giving you a gorgeous smile. You frowned at his proposition. “Don’t you have to be somewhere? You look rather put together to pick up some groceries.”
He laughed. “I don’t mind. And I’m sure waiting half an hour won’t hurt John either.”
Michael went with you to get groceries and escorted you home. He “accidentally” bumped into you the next day again and you had lunch together in a café just a few blocks from your home. Michael invited you to the Garrison one Friday evening and introduced you to his family. He made sure you felt comfortable around the men that intimidated you so much. He started telling you more about the work they did and slowly but surely opened up to you about the aspects that obviously clashed with your morals. He understood and accepted the fact that you could and would not identify yourself with the illegal side of their business.
Nevertheless, you fell in love. You fell in love with Michael because he cared about you so much. He was attentive and gentle and interested in hearing about your day. About the things you liked to do and were passionate about. He was there when you were feeling down and he was there to enjoy the days that simply could not get any better.
You didn’t believe in soulmates, but if they were real, Michael was yours and you were Michael’s.
Then he left.
Fucking America.
Fucking Wall Street.
Fucking stock markets and money and drugs.
He left without an explanation that would help you sleep at night. That would help you with getting up in the morning and going to work. That would calm down the burning anger you had towards the Shelby family.
With Michael leaving, you decided to leave the Shelby’s. As kind as they had been to you, they did not bring any positivity to your life. Not anymore.
Michael did not call. Michael did not write. It was as if he had never existed. But your heart was aching so much, you knew he wasn’t gone. Your heart in his hands, fingers squeezing tightly around it. Almost stopping it from beating.
You had noticed him changing. You had felt his touch getting colder and his words getting fewer. He came home later and went to work earlier.
As foolish as you were, you told yourself to ignore the signs. And in the end, whatever you were trying to save, came crumbling down.
You had counted the days after he’d left. But you eventually stopped. How many years had it been? Two? Three? Four even? You had lost track of time. And just as you thought you were over Michael Gray, he was back in Small Heath.
With a woman.
You tried to push through the busy crowd of a sunny Saturday morning after accidentally locking eyes with him. You wanted to get away. Erase the images that were now spinning around in your head.
Just as you thought you had saved yourself from an unpleasant encounter with the man you had once called yours, a strong hand placed itself onto your shoulder.
“Please wait …”
You spun around, holding the handle of your basked tightly, as though it was giving you the support you needed in this situation.
“I have nothing to say to you,” you spat. Against your own expectations, you didn’t look away.
“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he said, pulling back his hand awkwardly.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about if you did it willingly and on purpose. And since you’ve never officially broken up with me, I take your new girl as an indication that our relationship is over, eh?”
You were never one to mince your words, but you knew where to draw the line. Usually. Whereas Michael, standing right in front of you, seemed to be triggering the worst in you. You would not try to be nice. You would use words that hurt. That would stab into his chest and rip out the little of a soul he had left.
Michael winced at your remark. You could see that this conversation was painful. Too bad, he didn’t understand the pain he had put you through when he left you. “I never meant to hurt you–“
You rolled your eyes.
“You know that this business changed me, Y/N. You knew I wasn’t the same man you met when I asked you about Pol’s address,” he continued.
“Oh, how romantic, referring to that day?”
“Please don’t be like that,” he begged. You knew he tried to sound pitiful. It wasn’t working. You were over and done with this theatre.
“It wasn’t the business that changed you, Michael. You yourself decided to change. And you decided to be cruel,” you told him, the tone in your voice harsh. Merciless even.
You watched him close his eyes for a moment, most likely annoyed at your unwillingness to talk this through, maybe even come to an understanding.
There was not one fibre in your body that was having any of it.
“I can’t change the man I am deep inside,” he tried explaining his behaviour. You huffed and shook your head in disbelief. “You’re an asshole, Michael Gray. And just for the record: Cruelty isn’t a personality trait. Cruelty is a habit. And you deliberately made it your habit.”
Then, you turned your back on your former boyfriend and began walking away. Taking the largest and proudest steps possible.
“Where are you going?” he shouted after you, baffled by the outcome of this dialogue.
“Home. To bake a fucking apple crumble.”
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Just a few random thoughts and observations about Daryl’s Origins episode.
Basically my stream of consciousness bullshit brought over from Twitter, lol. I almost didn’t watch the episode after seeing all the drama over there, but ultimately I decided to because frankly? I don’t trust certain fans’ perceptions of events. For reasons. It’s best, I feel, to always watch with your own eyes and form your own independent opinions because this fandom is teeming with people that delight in tormenting other fans by being very selective and oftentimes downright misrepresentative about what they pass along.
More under the cut because this is random and all over the place and basically excerpts of my live blogging while watching the special. Did I mention it’s random?
You know. It sure would be nice not going into one of these things so apprehensive. Maybe one day, hmm?
First things first. From the very beginning of this Origins episode, I’m reminded of two things: 1). Our introduction to Daryl, his colorful Dixonese, and his particular brand of humor certainly stands out as one of show's more memorable introductions. 2). TWD certainly regressed on the deer front. I mean. Daryl's deer>Richonne's deer.
I’m never going to get over "On Golden Pond." Never ever and look. I actually liked Dale but Daryl spitting those words at him still makes me laugh until I'm weak.
Daryl's still searching all these years later. Or is he? Really? Seems to me the man's found exactly what he's been looking for and he's been chasing it since he came back from those woods: a future with his soulmate. The one that happens to be his best friend. OFC, I’m talking about Carol. Who else?
How pretty and soft are baby Daryl and Carol? Too pretty and soft for this tired heart to withstand. Like I love all versions of them, but baby Daryl and Carol just hit different.
My immediate thought re: the Beth comment-- Misreads the situation? WTF? Whoever wrote this script just had to re-inject some eww into the narrative didn't they? All those damn dirty spoons. Ever think about how much it probably reeks in that office space?
Moving along, though. Here’s some real facts. Carol is so intrinsically woven into the fabric of Daryl's story, the only way she can be removed is if they are literally both destroyed and cease to exist. Something happens to Carol? The man is going to be a reanimated body without a heartbeat. Basically a Walker.
An aside, I know they're not making me rewatch a scene I haven't watched since the first time it aired. The way Negan's head bashing tendencies had me seeing red and wanting that barbed wire bat shoved up his ass every time I saw his face. My JDM love really took a serious hit for awhile. I'm never going to forgive the character that hateful act. I just can't.
Somehow I wasn't expecting this to be a teleprompter-fest. Like who wrote this script? Hmm. Sorry. Don't mind me. Lost in my thoughts per usual.
You know. It still strikes me as hella insensitive that Rick had Daryl leading the Sanctuary community knowing what he suffered there. There's no way Daryl would have returned that kind of favor.
Yep. Leah still feels tacked on last minute. A means to an end. Sigh. They completely glossed her over here. Too bad they had that lapse in judgment with some other toxic waste. I cannot believe they touched that with a ten foot pole. It's just cringe-worthy and wrong.
"Daryl can't say no to Carol." They say those words and I’m like “Join the club, my dude. Join the club, lol.”
You know. All the Carol-related moments in this Daryl Dixon recap speak for themselves. She's his person, dammit.
Okay though. That reunion in the tall grass with the sun shining on them all golden and picturesque, after Alpha’s taken Daryl to show him her horde? That's some romance novel shit right there.
"Look at me. Just look at me." I'm never going to recover from that moment or the discovery of Sophia. They break my heart so.
This recap is literally 2/3's Carol and the other 1/3 Rick and everybody else. I mean. It's so obvious. Utterly and completely misrepresented by some agenda-driven folks.
"We have a future." Oh. Just some pretty, meaningless words you say everyday to all your friends, lol. Just friends my whole entire ass.
"I'm never gonna hate you." Okay, AMC. Back up all the talk with some action that even the most willfully blind cannot deny, m'kay? Because they're not going to buy it until you're explicit about it. Just saying.
The amount of times "Carol" has left this man's mouth during this recap, lol, and some people keep wanting to ignore it.
Aww. Guess who they showed when Daryl mentioned family? How sweet. And when they mentioned purpose in connection with C0nnie, it was not any indication of romance, IMHO.
Let me explain.
By the time C0nnie is lost, Daryl’s floundering because he feels he hasn’t been able to help Carol despite giving it all and pushing back his previously established comfort zone(s). Enter these pair of sisters. And they put him in mind of the good parts of him and Merle. Probably they make him remember the Greene girls when things were good and hopeful before they went sideways. In some small way, he’s probably reminded of other family units like Rick and Carl and Lori and Carol and Sophia and later Henry. And all of those people have something in common. Well, besides being people Daryl has known and cared for. They’ve seen their family units fractured and/or destroyed by tragedies wrought by the world they live in. They made a point and emphasized that Daryl’s a searcher and also that family matters to him. In some way or form he’s been doing his best to help repair or reunite all these different family members since the beginning and ultimately he’s failed to succeed each time. So yeah. He’s been given a purpose in a time of uncertainty again with her because this time he’s determined to get it right. This time he wants to bring the two sisters back together the way he couldn’t do for the Greene girls. Like I did not, do not read anything romantic at all into that comment. Just my take on things. Obviously, everyone else’s mileage may vary. I’ll step off my soapbox now. Hopefully, maybe these words might comfort.
So relax, lovelies. It wasn't as bad as I feared. Sure, they could have left that one icky comment out but they didn't and honestly? I don't think it's a positive for that particular 'relationship' because it's something that's brought up to show just how messed up Daryl was. Because grown men that have their heads on straight don't usually have those type of misreads. They know they are inappropriate. Like I'm not putting Daryl into the pedo category because I don't feel like he belongs there. But I can see how him being so emotionally stunted and naive so far as interpersonal relationships and the nuances of friendship and non-toxic family could lend itself to him maybe reading more into those moments than were really there and not really knowing how to deal.
Whoever wrote that teleprompter script though? That particular asshole is probably grinning like a donkey with a mouth full of briars at all the unnecessary drama they stirred up yet again. Like newsflash, goober. There are better ways to foster interest in your show.
They should hire a team of fans to do the promotion. Fans that represent all factions of this fractured fandom so the promotion is well-rounded and not so heavily slanted toward any one of them but the diverse fandom as a whole.
Stop fanning the stupid ship wars and just celebrate the damn characters and the overall story. Nothing new or groundbreaking to see on this first Origins story but hey. Who doesn't mind a decent recap now and then? That said, don't sweat not having AMC+ or feel like you missed all that much because you didn't.
I do have to say. Them pretending B3th was the first girl to be nice to Daryl really had me going WTF.
I mean, there’s this little exchange from Carol, the first woman to be nice to Daryl, probably the first person from the group--
"You're every bit as good as them. Every bit."
AMC? TWD? Do you even watch your own show?
There you have it. My bullshit stream of consciousness, originally posted over on Twitter as I liveblogged the show. Hope you got something helpful or of entertainment value from this.
Goodnight, lovelies.
Until next time.
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Do you ever question ~why~ you write, and find yourself wanting to throw your laptop out of the window because of it?
I write for the MCR fandom and ill be honest, i fell out of love with the fandom a long long time ago (mainly because of the online toxicity). Now, i no longer care about receiving comments or kudos from people in the fandom because it honestly just raises anxiety in me, so I've found myself writing but not posting it anywhere. (Before, kudos and comments especially from regular readers were what motivated me)
There's no other fandom I'm interested in writing in, and I'm past the age now where a new fandom can grab my attention easily- it would really take a lot for that to happen. So I'm at this point where I'm just like... why am I writing and who am I writing for? I'm using Gerard and Frank as characters but I'm so far removed from the fandom that I don't feel connected to it in anyway anymore.
I hate Canon (in terms of tv show fandoms etc) so a bandom is perfect for creative liberties when writing, but I just... feel so unmotivated. And yet, writing is my life, I dont know what I'll do with my free time if I stop.
I know you've spoken before about second guessing your place in the fandom and whether or not it's a space you still want to write in. How do you still continue to write when you feel that way? I know you're currently taking a break, but before that?
If you can't relate to anything I've said in this ask then just disregard it, but I have the feeling you are or have been in a similar position as me and maybe you can offer some words of wisdom 🥺
Oh nonny, I really, really feel for you right now 💜 I am in basically the exact same position as you, more or less. I've been writing in the MCR fandom for fifteen years now (yikes) and it was always such a warm, safe space. But the past couple of years I've slowly noticed that changing, and now, even me as a seasoned writer who KNOWS the fandom so well, am totally disgusted by the thought of posting anything new because the toxicity is at a new level. It's like people will read someone's work now just to find something to complain about, when ✨back in my day ✨ the number one rule was always "don't like something, then hit the back button". I feel like it's become an okay thing now to literally harass authors, which is just awful because we're all writing for free, in our spare time.
Once upon a time you could write about literally anything and know you were safe to post, even back before AO3 and their fantastic tagging system. Back then, you knew there was a chance you could be reading something you disliked every time you clicked on a fic, and that was fine, because you just turned back if that was the case. And that fostered a really great community, where anyone sending hate or being at all negative to an author were very quickly shot down by everyone else reminding them that only THEY, and not the author, are responsible for keeping themselves happy on the internet.
All that being said, I'm not sure I'll ever return to writing MCR fic. Taking this break has been so healing, because I don't miss it at all. I miss writing terribly, and I miss those wonderful readers who would always send love my way, but in general... My mental health is a million times better for getting out. And it would get even better again if I had the heart to completely sever the ties with my AO3 account - just this morning I received another negative comment on a fic and seeing the email notification come through with comments makes me so anxious now. I hate that it's become that way, and the temptation to completely delete my profile is so tempting. But I couldn't do it to those people who still say they get so much joy out of my fic.
So... I'm in a very similar position to you. Writing MCR fic was me. It's what I did every spare moment I had for literally half of my life. So where do we go from here? Personally I'm still figuring it out.
I'm lucky in that I have some fantastic writer friends who still want to read my stuff in private who I can post to. It's not as motivating as that rush of posting online and seeing who likes it, but it's enough. I haven't written anything at all, not a single sentence, since I uploaded Chains made of Gold; but last week one of my real life friends asked if they could help get me out of my writing rut, and requested a Kingsman fic, not to post online but just for them to read. And it's the first time I've felt any sort of motivation to write. Something small, safe and private to share with a friend, that I can handle.
I'm similar to you, in that I find canon difficult to work around because I'm so used to writing whatever I want. But there are no fanfic rules that say you have to stick to canon - the joy of fanfiction is that we don't have to do that! It can be hard getting into a new fandom, but maybe it's worth just a little try?
And for me, as it is for many fic writers, the dream was always to one day write original stories to publish. Recently I've felt like that dream is further away than ever, and maybe I'm just not a writer anymore. But I can't imagine my life without it, writing stories is my passion, and I can't let a toxic fandom destroy that.
So to you nonny, I say this - don't give up. It's easier said than done, I know. Find "real" people who love writing and befriend them, if you don't already know people who might want to read your stuff in private. I'm more than happy for you to send anything my way, be it fanfic or otherwise, and I'll gladly cheerleader for you if it helps keep the writing bug alive. Joining a creative writing group is also a fantastic way to keep motivated and challenge yourself with new ideas - I LOVED the one I was in, but sadly I have no local group now. But if you do, please try it, getting away from the internet communities that are so toxic and into a group of real people, all passionate about writing, is such a healing thing.
We all started writing just for us. Because we loved it. Hold onto that, and take as long a break as you need, and I promise the urge to write will come again 💜
TL;DR The 'point' of writing has always just been to tell those stories inside of us. Don't give up on something you're passionate about, find good people who can be excited about your writing with you and share things with them 💜
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I think it's interesting how many people were wanting Jester to leave Artagan and go with the Moonweaver (who is awesome btw). I can't properly convey how relieved I am that didn't happen and that their already strong bond was made stronger and they both grew from it. Because that is how good relationships work and people are capable of changing for the better. Finding new faith worked for Fjord, but I don't believe it would have worked for Jester the same way. What they have can't be replaced.
If Artagan was forcibly taken from Jester it would have been traumatizing for Jester.
What the Mighty Nein, and perhaps a portion of the fandom, don’t understand is that Jester is a depressed lonely person who hides it. She puts on a mask of always happy and fine, it’s ok. She’s not ok and they don’t see it. Jester is also afraid of being alone, which plays into her fear of being disliked and abandoned.
Whether or not anyone else likes Artagan, Jester LOVES him and she has some serious attachment issues so just ripping him away from her would be super harmful.
There’s a scene in C2E19 where the party sees a shack and wants to investigate it. Jester suggests turning Frumpkin into a bird to go check it out since it’s like a mile away. Caleb does not like the idea, but then playfully says for you Fjord I will do it. Jester responds by being dramatic and pouting about him shooting her down but being willing to do it for Fjord.
LAURA: Can Frumpkin be a bird?
LIAM: (reluctantly) Yeah.
TALIESIN: For a bit.
TRAVIS: I want to check out the shack.
LIAM: All right. For you, Fjord, I will make Frumpkin a bird.
LAURA: Not for me, though. Caleb hates me.
SAM: We could just walk over there. It's a hassle to turn him into a bird.
TRAVIS: Yeah. Keep your cat.
LIAM: You are more sensitive than I would have imagined.
LAURA: I want people to like me.
Caleb is extremely observant and although this is a light, playful scene, says something that cuts really close. “You are more sensitive than I would have imagined.” She’s being over the top and dramatic, he criticizes her, and since what she was joking about what is actually some real insecurity she kind of deflates, her voice gets real small and she says “I want people to like me.”
It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment made harder to catch by the fact everyone is talking at once and Laura is eating pizza (role-playing with your mouth full - this is not to shame her for eating, she is entitled to that pizza, but it might make it harder to pick up on the moment). However, I think this touches upon something important.
Jester is in fact extremely insecure about being liked, and you see this with her relationship with the Traveler. Worrying that he might not like her now that she has other friends at first, and constantly needing reassurance that she’s the most important.
There’s a brilliant thread on reddit that sums up Jester’s character as follows:
“She's a people-pleaser because she's afraid to lose people. She grew up with the only 'low resource' being people - caring, loving, laughing people. She had her mother, who definitely loves her, but that was it. Most children have scores of people, and other children! to play with. Jester didn't.
And she's afraid to lose that, at any cost. Even realizing she was manipulated, keeping Artagen is more important than standing up for herself or showing her disappointment, because she can't lose him.
Onto - Artagen. What we know:
He's openly admitted to being manipulative and selfish
More importantly: he's openly admitted to never wanting to be bored and never wanting to 'get into emotions'
This REALLY matters. Why?
Because Jester is afraid of losing everyone so she can't be what those people don't want.
Jester can't be upset in front of Artagen because he might get bored with all of her emotions and leave.
It's crazy important for her to be his favorite because, as she is helping him leave all of his followers (her biggest fear) he keeps saying he won't leave her.”
Jester has pretty serious abandonment issues. Children need the attention and support of a caregiver. RedditTotalWar made a great point on that reddit thread: “A significant withdrawal of attention is often enough to cause a child to develop abandonment issues. Children don't have the capacity to realize that some things aren't about them since they are the centers of their own universe.” So the fact Jester’s mother, who clearly loves her and is a good person, did not always have time for her and required Jester to keep her existence secret is damaging.
Note, this is not to suggest that Marrion is a bad person or was intentionally abusive. You don’t have to be a monster to hurt a child. Disney example: In Tangled, Mother Gothel isolated Rapunzel and was an abuser who just wanted to use her. In Frozen, Anna’s Mother and Father isolated Anna out of a desire to do what they thought was best for their other daughter Elsa and to protect Anna from what they saw as the threat posed by Elsa’s magic. Anna’s parents were not intentionally abusive and loved their children, but Anna was still neglected and isolated and harmed by their actions.
To Jester, the message she got growing up was ‘Momma loves me, but she’s busy and I can’t get in the way and no one can know I exist’ which could easily be taken as ‘Momma loves me, but I’m not the most important thing to her’ or even ‘Momma loves me, but my existence makes her life harder, so maybe I’m not completely lovable since I’m a problem’.
And while you may think, if she was that worried why would she act out and play pranks and cause trouble, the fact is that children who are insecure about being loved may self-sabotage with caregivers. You see a high rate of disruption in foster children right before adoption because the child starts exhibiting behaviors. Perhaps faced with the fear of, maybe my parental won’t love me if I cause trouble, it feels safer just deliberately causing trouble because then at least you’re the one in control rather than walking on eggshells terrified that messing up could mean abandonment.
The fact that Jester’s prank on Lord Sharp resulted in her having to leave the only home she’s ever known and never come back under threat of death and that her Mother could not (or in her mind, would not?) protect her may have made her abandonment issues a lot worse.
Jester is terrified of being left alone, of being abandoned. Taking away the one person who has been a constant in her life and who she has felt safe with all at once would not be good. As Laura said on her playlist “he’s always been the one person she could show her insecurities to” and losing that stable, trusted person would hurt.
I don’t think her relationship with Artagan is entirely healthy (it’s not healthy for a child to grow up with only one other friend and her attachment to him extreme and also he’s a selfish, manipulative Archfey - I don’t think Artagan thinks this relationship is entirely healthy). However, I do not think it would have been better for her to have him ripped away like that. Especially given the fact that the whole Moonweaver thing was her idea and she would likely blame herself for what happened.
How devastating would that be for someone with Jester’s level of insecurity?
The Mighty Nein, and again a portion of the fandom, may have preferred it if Jester broke up with Artagan and moved on or found a new god. Fjord’s relationship with Uk’otoa (Uk’atoa) was toxic and abusive, so the Mighty Nein are very wary of that sort of relationship. Fjord if projecting and thinks that any relationship with a powerful being that isn’t a god is dangerous.
The truth is Jester’s relationship with Artagan isn’t really like one of cleric and god. It’s more like a personal relationship where he happens to give her divine powers.
LAURA: I take a bite of my caramel apple, and I go walking down.
MATT: You hear a crunch sound and your handshakes for a second and you look down and a mysterious secondary bite was taken out of the apple.
LAURA: (gasp) I lick the spot.
(groaning)
SAM: You're making out with your god? Gross.
MATT: They have a special relationship.
A special relationship indeed, Matt. It’s intimate, she talks to him about her crushes and asks him for advice on boys then casually confesses love to him.
LAURA: You're not jealous, are you?
MATT: "No."
LAURA: You'll always be my number one love.
MATT: "I know.”
Fjord is an orphan who was looking for parental figures. Vandren was a mentor and father figure, and it was through Vandren that Fjord gained his connection to Uk’otoa. The Wild Mother felt Motherly to Fjord and in Talks Travis said that when Matt first described the feeling his thoughts were on like have I found my Mother somehow. To Fjord religion is a divine parent, an authority figure who provides guidance and direction, and in the case of the Wild Mother love and support for him.
Jester has never seen the Traveler as a ‘dad figure’. He’s just her best friend and based on her behavior towards him and jealousy towards his other followers, and the number of love songs on Laura’s playlist, I’m pretty convinced that Jester is IN LOVE with him.
(I don’t know if that feeling is required. Given they grew up together with him in the form of another child and the fact Artagan is actually ancient, I think he sees her more like a little sister. This might be why he was so confused when she grabbed his face and leaned in like she was about to kiss him despite the fact that like she’s flat out told him that he’s her number one love and requires constant reassurance that she’s his favorite and acts like a schoolgirl with a very obvious crush)
And again, all of this may not be healthy or ideal for Jester. She might get hurt. However, I think in order to grow the relationship has to run it’s course no matter what happens. Artagan not only acted completely selflessly by kicking her off of him rather than face the possibility that she’d have to choose between him and or friends or be banished with him but like - he apologized to her.
An actual, real, non-manipulative apology. He admitted he was manipulative and he’s sorry and when she tries to play it off as it’s fine, he says he doesn’t want to defend himself. He’s sorry.
That’s growth.
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A Quiet Place
Summary: Inspired by a rp that @chibi-mushroom and @animacreates are doing with each other. I’ve lovingly dubbed it the ‘chaos rp’ because it’s kinda how it started out. And while the rp was also meant to be fandom specific, this little story was written to be mostly removed from that context. You might recognize some names though if you’ve been following me for awhile (or look at the tags). This story has a second part. You can read it: here.
Rating: K+
Word Count: 2,085 words
If you liked this story, please reblog.
. . .
Every kid had their challenges. It didn't matter if they were your blood or not, they just did. These two particular kids were warned as being extra challenging- with less than subtle wording indicating the girl in particular was the one who made things difficult. Oswald looked at the kid's photographs, then at their case worker, and said but one single word on the matter; “Good.”
In retrospect, though, he should have given Ortensia a greater warning on these two. She had always wanted children -even before they had gotten married-, and hearing that they were going to foster two kids nearly made her bounce off the walls. She didn't waste any time setting up two bedrooms with all sorts of little things she'd thought the kids would like. Proper things like soap and toiletries, and then general 'welcome to the family' gifts like toys and prepaid phones. When the kids actually got there, Oswald literally had to hold her by her shirt collar so she wouldn't hug them to death.
The boy, Blaine, seemed rather charmed by Ortensia at the get-go. He was the one who gave the proper introductions. The girl, Sabrina, held her suitcase with both hands and at her side like she planned on smacking someone with it. Her face holding a look of utter contempt that it nearly made her look older than she was. Oswald knew with all his heart that Ortensia meant well, but in her excitement, she quite easily forgot to notice the child's body cues. It didn't help in getting the girl to open up. If anything, Ortensia was making things worse.
He purposely let her forget to get groceries this morning. He knew he was going to need to separate her from the kids once she met them.
At least that meant their house tour was done in a slow, linear fashion instead of filled with several mildly irrelevant anecdotes. Never once did Sabrina let down her suitcase. She held it close to her like it was her only possession in the world. (And it very likely was. That was a thought that hurt old Oswald's heart in ways he couldn’t describe.) Blaine had been the one to gently suggest she leave it in her room. Even with her brother's approval, the child was still hesitant. She did end up sitting her stuff down eventually. Blaine was the one that suggested they go back out to the living room to wait for Ortensia to come back, and Oswald couldn't find a reason to disagree. He let the kids lead- it seemed only fair at this point.
“I want to apologize for how rude my sis is being.” Blaine said once everyone had found a place to sit. “Each family we go to, she seems to get more quiet and more scowl-y. If she didn't have such high opinions of certain people and things, then she'd almost take a vow of silence.”
That got some kind of reaction from the girl. She kicked him with the side of her foot; a motion that looked to have quite a bit of force to it, but Blaine didn't flinch. Oswald got a violent flashback to how he and his brother used to treat each other. He quickly shook his head. His brother had ruined more than one thing in his life before, and he wasn't going to take this either.
“It's alright.” he then said. “I can't imagine how stressful all the constant moving around must be for you guys. Once we get into a rhythm (and Ortensia calms down a bit) things should get easier. We won't force you two to do anything you're not comfortable with. I promise it.”
Both siblings looked like he had just punched them in the gut.
“Thanks...” Blaine stammered once he remembered his manners- his eyes averting from Oswald. Sabrina, too, curled a bit tighter inside herself. Their reactions were… odd, to say the least, but Oswald nearly feared questioning it. It's not like he could say he wouldn't force them into anything, then tell them to spill whatever was on their mind.
“I think I'll be fine.” Blaine then said. He tried to sit up proper again, to be an authoritative figure between the two kids. “It's Sabi that's the tough nut to crack. Too much activity and she retreats to her own little hideaway- wherever it tends to be that day.”
“I get that.” Oswald agreed with a nod; perfectly ignoring the stink eye Sabrina was giving Blaine. “I built that little extension above the garage just so I could be alone.” Oswald blinked when a thought came to him. “I have an idea.” he then offered. “Sabrina, how about you follow me for a second. We can come right back after.”
Sabrina gave Blaine a wary look, but at her brother's firm nod, she relented. Oswald offered her a half grin in response before he got up. He gestured for her to follow. He didn't look back- trusting that she would be behind. She did follow. Perhaps by a good foot or two, but she followed him. (Her brother was following as well, by the way. Just out of eye range, but close enough so she could still feel his presence.) Oswald led them through the house and over to the garage. There was a staircase that went up to a second floor, Oswald opened it to enter the room. He left it open to allow Sabrina time to come in if she wanted to. (At this point, Blaine was at the bottom of the stairs, also waiting to see what she would do.) She took a breath in, and followed Oswald inside.
The child was greeted to a room that was a mix of a living room and a workshop. The generously sized area had a CRT TV against a wall, with a dark blue velvet couch in front. Against another wall was a large desk- there was something that looked like a small coo-coo clock on it, next to a decent sized container of tools. On the wall next to that was a well abused recliner, a bookcase filled with books of various sizes, and even a box that looked to have nothing but broken junk in it.
“I suggest making yourself comfortable on the big sofa.” Oswald offered, gesturing to the dark blue couch. “It’s got plenty of room to stretch out. You can even put on a movie too if you feel like.”
Sabrina still hung by the door. Her body was scrunched as if she could disappear just by looking as small as possible. Oswald didn't force her any further into the room. If anything, he went over to the desk to check on the dissected clock than paid any real attention to her. She was waiting. She was waiting for the moment when he forced her to do something- anything. After five minutes, it didn't happen. Giving the room a rather disgusted glance, Sabrina slowly started to move her body to the couch. She flinched when the couch squeaked slightly at her sitting down. She flinched again when Oswald started to talk, thinking she was in trouble.
“Once Ortensia realizes that we’re here, she won’t come bother us. I made it a rule.”
The child's face scrunched as she looked over at him. She really wanted to ask why, but she didn’t want him to think she was opening up. Instead, she pressed herself against a corner of the couch and said nothing. Oswald still wasn't paying attention to her, still talking more to himself than anyone else.
“Ortensia means well, she's just not aware of her own strength- so to speak. I don't blame you for turning down every hug she tries to give.” He gave a small chortle before adding, “There are days when I don't want her to hug me. And we've known each since middle school.”
This was when Oswald finally looked back at Sabrina. Words couldn't even begin to describe how relieved he was that she was still in the room- let alone sitting down. His hand absently went over the thick afghan blanket that he had draped over his desk chair. It had been a wedding gift that was passed down from generation to generation. The blanket was knit together in a ripple pattern using light blue, dark blue, and faded pink lamb's wool. One of Oswald's fingers traced over the knit before he had an idea.
“Here.” Oswald said as he tossed the blanket her way. “You hide under this, then I'll pretend you're not there. I can do my thing, and you can do yours. I won't talk to ya unless you want to.”
The girl just stared at him before covering herself up with the blanket. At first, she was less than amused that the heavy blanket nearly smacked her when he had tossed it. She took it with two fingers as she looked it over. Noting that it was a little worn, but cleaned, Sabrina carefully placed it over her shoulders. She wrapped herself up snugly, covering even her head, and laid down on the couch curled into a ball like she was nothing no more than a lumpy bolster pillow. Oswald smirked a bit. But he knew he wasn't going to say anything about it. This kid had to move on her own time- that was a lesson he knew well.
He hated to admit it; but he saw a lot of himself in her.
“You have any music preferences, kid?” he asked as he went over to where he kept his portable phonograph. An original Edison, crank and all. Took him the greater part of a summer to get it back together again.
“I don't exist.”
Oswald blinked before realizing what she meant. “Oh. Right, right.” he agreed. “Sorry about that. Lemme just put on something then...”
He thoughtfully hummed as he went through his record collection. When he found a good one, Oswald let out a sound of happy discovery. He pulled out a record from its sleeve, flipped it in his hands before blowing on it a bit, then placed the record on the turntable. From her spot on the couch, it was a bit hard to watch him crank the player up and move the needle over to the record. There was no way Sabrina was moving from her spot, though- she was way too comfortable now. When the player gave way to static, Oswald was satisfied enough to go to his desk. He started work on his project as a jazzy song started to say.
“Listen while I tell you about a gal named Daisy Mae. They called her 'Lazy Daisy Mae.' Her reputation I'm afraid is all that people say. Midnight begins her working day. She had a man that was tall and handsome; large and strong. She used to sing this song;”
“Hey daddy!” Oswald sang along in baritone. “I want a diamond ring- bracelets, everything. Daddy, you outta get the best for meeee…!”
Sabrina tried to watch him with a critical eye, but it was rather hard when he kept half humming, half singing along to the song. He really was going to act like she wasn't there, huh? Which was all fine and dandy- she had no interest in whatever he was fixing up. The only sound in the room besides the record player was him shuffling his tools around for another. She didn't like how relaxing it was. This was always the part where someone came through the door, demanding attention to something else in the scariest voice possible. But it didn't happen. She knew that no one was going to interrupt them. This weird fella and his wife? They were genuine.
So far.
They were genuine, so far.
That 'so far' was incredibly important, you know. Just as scary; if not more so.
She didn't want her eyes to close. She didn't want to be relaxed. She wanted to resist the urge to go to sleep here. It wasn't working. But constantly being on guard for something bad to happen was exhausting. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to get a little sleep. Besides, to Oswald, she didn't exist. He was the only other person in the room with her, and he surely wasn't going to stop whatever he was doing just to make small talk with her. After letting out a small sigh, Sabrina went into a dreamless sleep in seconds.
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Whumptober 2020 - Day 12
Today’s post is another one that’s 99% emotional whump. Disclaimer - I promise I like Shiro...at least season 1 and 2 Shiro. It’s Kuron, or whatever you want to call his clone, that I like to make the bad guy.
Read on AO3
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Day 12 - Broken Trust
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Warnings: emotional abuse, non-graphic mention of pre-existing injuries, death mention, referenced child abuse, metaphoric gore
It started off small.
“Backseat team leading”, was how Lance had referred to it. He had actually sounded pretty concerned, despite his joking tone, and Keith had appreciated it, he really had. There had been a time not that long ago when Lance would have been making fun of him for getting his ideas shot down. The change in their relationship was not something he was going to take for granted.
But it wasn’t that big of a deal, and he told Lance as much. Shiro had always been a better team leader than he would ever be, no matter how much he had improved since the start. Yes, the way he was going about this was a little...aggravating, but Keith had always been too easily aggravated and was trying to get better at that.
And yeah, it hurt a little, having his plans ridiculed. But that was just his ego getting bruised, so he could ignore that, too.
Mostly it was just surprising. After all, Shiro had been the one to insist he should lead, and he had always been so supportive of him no matter what he tried to take on. So he had expected a bit more support, a bit less...usurping.
He couldn’t fault Shiro for it, though. If he had been rejected by his Lion, he’d probably be feeling the need to insert himself wherever he could, too. That had to have hurt. Plus he had just gotten back from being captured by the Galra again, and that was bound to change a person.
In the end, the truth was that he needed the guidance, however forcefully it was given. Shiro was always right.
What bothered him a little more was when Shiro started to take issue with his Blade missions. Everyone was taking issue with his Blade missions, actually, and that was reasonable. His attention was divided, he knew that.
It was just that Voltron had lately become more advertisement and relief efforts than anything else, while the Blade was still out there actually fighting the Empire. Both were important. He knew that. But he felt more useful when he was with the Blades. Putting on shows and interacting with Coalition members was not his forte. He was a fighter. That’s what he did best.
Plus, there was the added benefit of getting to know more about his Galra roots, which he would never use as an excuse to the others, especially Allura, but it was true. He would never ever tell them that part of his reason for being with the Blades was to hopefully learn something about his mother. That would just be seen as selfish, and maybe it was.
He’d thought Shiro would be the one to understand all of that, though. Shiro always seemed to know everything that was going through his head without him having to say it. Or at least, the old Shiro had. This Shiro either didn’t know, or...or didn’t care.
“Where were you today?”
Keith stopped short, blinking in exhaustion at the man who was standing with crossed arms outside his bedroom door. Waiting for him. Waiting to interrogate him before he could retreat to nurse his wounds in the safety of his bed.
“Blade mission.”
He could have sworn that Shiro nearly rolled his eyes at the obvious answer. The old Shiro never rolled his eyes unless it was at a lame joke. “Was it important?”
If it wasn’t important, then why would I have gone? “I...yeah. There was this intel -”
Shiro held up a hand to stop him. The old Shiro never interrupted him. Not when it had taken over a month for Keith to speak more than a few words to him.
“We needed you on Olkarion today.”
“Did…did the supply hand out not go well?”
“It went fine.” The answer was curt. “But another set of hands would have made it go much better.”
Keith just stared blankly for a long moment, a hundred thoughts flying through his head.
He wanted to say, you had six people plus all of the Olkari.
He wanted to say, all you were doing was handing out boxes.
He wanted to say, the intel we got could potentially free another entire planet.
He wanted to say, why don’t you want me to be where I’m actually the most helpful?
He wanted to say, I almost died today.
But instead, he licked his chapped lips, stared down at the floor, and said, “I’m sorry.”
Shiro sighed heavily. It was his disappointed sigh, the one the old Shiro only ever used when he got into fights or sassed his teachers. “I don’t understand you lately. You’re the leader of Voltron, but we can’t even count on you to show up for something as simple and important as giving relief to survivors.”
He wanted to say, am I the leader? Because I don’t feel like I’ve been allowed to do much leading.
He wanted to say, I promise you can count on me to show up when I’m actually needed.
He wanted to say, I don’t understand you lately, either.
“I’ll try to do better.”
Shiro straightened, leaving his arms crossed. “Yeah.” His tone was dry and cold in a way that the old Shiro’s never was. “You need to.”
Then he turned on his heel and left, without a goodnight, without a smile, without acknowledging the way that Keith was obviously favoring his left leg and hugging one arm to himself.
It hurt.
But he was right. He needed to be there for his team.
Shiro was always right.
There wasn’t anyone else in the universe that he would say that about. But he believed it about Shiro, because Shiro had earned it. Keith didn’t trust anybody when they met, kids or adults, but Shiro was the only person who had ever bothered sticking around long enough to actually convince Keith he was different. He believed in him, which was a first. He allowed him to have opinions and feelings and to share them without fearing he would be belittled. He looked past the “problem child” exterior and found the boy hiding underneath.
So eventually, after a long, long time of working on opening up, Keith decided that he believed whatever Shiro had to say. All of his advice had been good, however loathe he had been to admit that at first. In the end, he had started going to Shiro for his opinions on almost everything, and that led after an even longer while to going to him when he needed to talk about other, more personal things.
Shiro knew things about him that no one else knew, things that as far as Keith was concerned, no one else would ever know. He had earned that. Keith trusted him.
Which is why he was too stunned at Shiro’s outburst during group training to even feel the hurt to begin with.
“Keith. You have to protect your teammates. Just because you grew up being used as a punching bag by all your foster parents doesn’t mean that the rest of us are used to getting beat up.”
The room dropped into dead silence. Keith's heart was pounding so fast it was all he could hear or feel.
Nobody was supposed to know about his past. Shiro knew that. Nobody had even been told that he was a foster kid, and that’s the way Keith wanted it to stay. Shiro knew that.
“Um...Shiro?” It was Lance that finally spoke up, because of course it was. “I...um...think...maybe...that kind of thing is...something Keith should tell us? If he...wanted to, you know?”
But no, he shouldn’t be questioning Shiro. Shiro was their leader, and Shiro was always right. There had to be some good reason for him to be breaking Keith’s confidence at that moment...right?
It didn’t feel like there was a good reason.
It felt like someone had reached in and ripped his intestines out and left a big, gaping hole.
Half the team was gaping at him, the other half at Shiro. No one else seemed to know what to say.
That is, until Allura spoke up. Allura, of all people, who had hated him not that long ago and still sometimes regarded him warily.
“Erm, yes. I...feel that was out of line, Shiro.”
“Hm?” Shiro looked genuinely surprised, as if he had no clue what he had even done. No clue that Keith was standing there gutted, waiting for either himself or the rest of the room to crumble into dust.
Because this couldn’t be real. Shiro couldn’t possibly have just said what he said.
“Oh, yeah. I guess you’re right. Sorry, Keith.”
But he wasn’t.
He wasn’t.
The apology was thrown flippantly in his direction, no eye contact, no sincerity. The old Shiro didn’t apologize like that. The old Shiro would have been begging for his forgiveness as soon as he realized his mistake, with careful hands on his shoulders and maybe even tears in his eyes.
The old Shiro cared.
Suddenly Keith wasn’t sure whether any of this had to do with his time with the Galra and his Lion’s rejection. Those things couldn’t make a person turn their back on a friend, a brother...could they?
Maybe he had done something to earn Shiro’s hatred.
Maybe Shiro had never actually loved him to begin with.
He was turning and leaving the room before he fully realized what he was doing, but the cries of his name didn’t stop him. Not even the knowledge that he was disappointing Shiro, again, stopped him.
He didn’t care anymore. Or at least that’s what he told himself.
Shiro wasn’t always right.
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Height discourse confuses me so much, because I, a 4'9 21-year-old Asian perceives anyone taller as tall. But reading international posts saying 5'6 is small makes me double-take, like, "Wut?"
LOL, ahh yes, the infamous “How Tall IS Dick Grayson Actually” discourse. I feel you. And I can definitely see how it would be bemusing as hell given your perspective, lmao.
And I mean, its definitely up there on the list of “Things I Can’t Believe There’s Actually Discourse About” buuuuuut I’m not really judging because I know damn well there’s a fuckton of shit I’ve Discoursed about on pretty much everyone else’s “Things I Can’t Believe There’s Actually Discourse About” list.
*Shrugs* But I also do get why it exists, if you scratch beneath the surface - as is often true of a lot of seemingly inane discourses. Its not really about height so much as it is about the why’s of writers specifying certain heights for him, and stereotypes associated with height.
On the one hand, you’ve got the fans who look at writers who make a point of writing Dick as particularly short, or the shortest of the Batfam once all of them are adults, and think: this is because of fandom’s fixation with writing Dick as effeminate or the least ‘manly’ of the Batfam, and thus I dislike it and do not trust this writer’s take on him.
Then on the other hand, you have the fans who look at objections like this and think: this is because of bullshit fostered by the toxic masculinity and sexism that’s so present in society, even women can be guilty of perpetuating the idea that there’s anything TO object about there, that a man being effeminate or less ‘manly’ than his brothers is some kind of insult or slight against him in the first place.
But then go back to the first hand.....
And on the one hand, of those fans, you’ve got the fans that don’t actually think there’s anything insulting about a man being effeminate or less manly themselves, but given that the bullshit fostered by the toxic masculinity and sexism in society is so everpresent, even women can be guilty of perpetuating the idea that ‘shorter = weaker’ etc, etc.......its not him being written as short that’s objectionable to them, its what they believe the writer is implying by making that distinction that they’re objecting to, like that it reads to them as though its being used as a smokescreen to create associations in readers’ minds, with the idea of him being weaker or softer or whatever the fuck compared to his brothers, without those writers actually having to SAY what they’re getting at there and spell it out. Plausible deniability kinda thing.
And then on the other hand, you have those fans who object to writing Dick as short because they actually DO buy into that bullshit and they ARE simply objecting to the idea itself because of toxic masculinity and sexism and etc etc.
But then go back to the original second hand.....
And on the one hand THERE, you have the fans whose responses to people objecting about writing Dick as short are based on exactly what they say they are......pointing out that its only objectionable if its viewed as insulting and the only reasons its viewed as insulting are toxic masculinity and sexism which they’re calling out as being perpetuated here.
And on the other hand there, you have those fans who DO buy into the associations between ‘shorter = weaker’ and actually ARE writing things that way with the intent of hoping to form that association in the minds of any readers who similarly buy into those lines of thought or are susceptible to it......and are simply using ‘arent you the REAL misogynist here for thinking shorter equals more feminine which equals weaker or frail or whatever’ arguments that are simply typical flipping the script tactics and hiding behind buzzwords they don’t actually believe in themselves but know are effective in getting people to back down, etc, etc. The plausible deniability thing.
And I’ve been out of hands here for awhile now, obviously, but you get what I mean. Round and round and round it goes, with the true point always hidden juuuuuuust beneath the surface, and more than a little tedious to have all unpacked and catalogued like here, which is a major factor in why so many people rarely dig beneath the surface of a seemingly inane discourse to get at what people are REALLY arguing about but nobody wants to ‘lose ground on’ by being the first to admit to.
As for me, again, this really isn’t a dicourse that I spend much time on because I’d rather cut straight to the point of an argument in general, and this isn’t an discourse that’s particularly amenable to people doing that, obviously.
And also, I honestly just don’t care that much. LOL. Yeah, I often read works where Dick is singled out as being distinctively shorter and feel an author is trying to ‘imply’ something and its the implications of that which are the source of any ‘Not Good, Scoob’ feelings rather than because I agree with what’s trying to be implied. But y’know......when an author IS playing that game and they actually do buy into toxic and sexist stereotypes.....I mean, there’s literally always other indications of this in their work, giving them away all over the place. So there’s honestly never really a time when his height itself is actually what that hinges upon, y’know?
So my big takeaway from all of this is: headcanon and write Dick as whatever damn height you feel like and if you want to imply something about him just fucking say it directly and if you want to accuse someone of something just fucking call it out directly.
*points to the above unpacking of this particular discourse and how fucking tedious and unnecessary so much of it is and all just because people won’t just say what they actually came to say or lay claim to what they actually said*
ANYWAY.
Personally, regardless of how Dick is written in a fic, I will always headcanon him as somewhere between 5′10″ and 6′1″ for reasons that are entirely irrelevant and meaningless to anyone but me, pretty much. LOL.
In my head, Dick obviously has to be that height because he’s walked a runway as a model before. That’s it. That’s the whole reason my mind automatically goes to that span when picturing him or reading something about him.
(As most people who have followed me for a bit know, I spent a number of years working in the TV industry. There were a couple years there where I did a little bit of print modeling too, nothing major at all, but enough to know that the fashion industry has a Very Definitive Thing about male runway models and height: If you are a male runway model, you are between 5′10″ and 6′1″. If you are not between 5′10″ and 6′1″, you are not a male runway model and you never will be. Its a Thing. And not one the industry is shy about.
Because of the fact that the fashion industry is mostly centered around women models with name recognition, and very few men who model have star power specifically in terms of modeling, rather than because of crossover/overlap with acting, there’s a major difference in how designers tend to approach designing for models. Most designers designing runway looks for women do so with specific models already in mind. Most designers designing runway looks for men do so without specific models in mind because there simply aren’t enough male models with the kind of branding/name recognition that does a designer any good.
So designers literally JUST design runway looks for men in that height range, and anyone outside that range would require tailoring that could feasibly throw off an entire runway look. So they just don’t do it, to the point that an agent or manager sending them someone outside that height range to consider for a job means that agent’s not getting called back, because they just gave themselves away as a clear amateur by not knowing better.
Of course, keep in mind that my experiences with modeling are based on the industry re: ten years ago, so it could be that things have changed in this regard since. But that was the status quo then.)
So yeah. Dick Grayson walked a runway for Cheyenne Freemont, thus in my mind he’s obviously between 5′10″ and 6′1″ lolol, because any up and coming designer trying to make a name for herself would absolutely know better than to send out someone shorter than that and still think anyone in the industry would take her seriously.
LOL. I told you it was inane. But in my defense, plenty of people headcanon that Dick HAS to be small because he’s a gymnast, and uh.....that is not how that works. Anyone can be an amazing gymnast, its just that smaller body types lend themselves to gymnastics better than bigger, bulkier bodies. And thus the competition oriented gymnastics SPORT heavily favors cultivating and training gymnasts on the smaller side, because coaches and endorsers are looking for literally any advantage possible.
(Being shorter means you have a lower center of gravity which is a help when balancing, or stabilizing yourself. Its easier for a shorter gymnast to keep their balance or to stick a landing. But it doesn’t become impossible just because someone’s hit six feet tall. It HELPS to be shorter. It doesn’t determine whether or not you can do a trick at all, much like being short and having a lower center of gravity by no means GUARANTEES you have good balance.)
And of course, though Dick excels at a ton of gymnastics, he is not and never has been a gymnast per se....he’s an acrobat. From a family of acrobats. Who have been doing this as a family business generationally, thus.....why would they have future height requirements when training their son in the family business? And being from a family of acrobats doesn’t ensure you’re going to be short, if your family members are not already short to begin with. Evolution does not give a fuck about future employment opportunities when selecting which gene sequences to flip on while in utero.
The correlation is ‘most gymnasts who excel at gymnastics feats are small,’ not ‘to excel at gymastic feats, you must be small.’
I am absolutely and completely just rambling now and have been for awhile so I’m gonna go beat up my insomnia until it caves and lets me go the fuck to sleep.
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Peace Talks Reactions
Hey, Dresden Fandom. You guys may or may not be knee deep in Peace Talks, but if you are, I welcome you to the below reactions, in handy dandy bullet form. I would love to discuss the book if you’re interested, whether you reblog with comments or shoot me a chat. I just finished the book, so all spoilers are below the Read More tag.
Woof. Well, at least it was something after six fucking years of waiting.
· So before Butcher’s giant hiatus, we had this first chapter of Peace Talks already and I have to say I still feel like I felt six years ago: I don’t really know where he’s going with Thomas becoming a father. In terms of what that will do for him as a character. For Harry, it’s different. Harry keeps it close to the chest with his decisions, willing to die for the greater good in an instant, and becoming a father made him have to be more careful and thoughtful in his actions to be sure he can be there for his baby girl. I’m not sure where Butcher is going with this for Thomas, but I guess we’ll see.
· I was pleased to find out Harry decided to stick with the protected apartment and is trying his best on Dad duty. Me gusta.
· Right, let’s get to the first big elephant in the room: Ebenezar. Oh my fucking God. I want to punch his fucking lights out. My friend and I have argued about his reaction to seeing Thomas at the apartment already. I know Eb has Harry by a thousand years or more in experience, but it pisses me off that Eb can’t be bothered to learn more about Thomas. Nope. Just skip straight to irrational anger. It was also disappointing to find out that Eb is not a part of Harry’s life as much as I thought he was in the past, so clearly he doesn’t understand how important Thomas is to him. I’m a bit miffed that Harry didn’t explain Thomas is his half-grandson to help him understand, but at the same time, Harry might be worried about what that revelation will do. Either way, it displays a massive lack of trust in Harry. To think Harry—who has survived all this fucking shit from the supernatural world so far—is just a pawn and he doesn’t know how incredibly dangerous the White Court is. Eb is downright disrespectful and insulting to his own grandson. I’m sorry, but I think he’s being an asshat in huge proportions by just thinking Harry is too stupid to know better and by not asking him why he feels loyal to Thomas.
· In that same vein, Eb’s whole thing about wanting Harry to leave Maggie somewhere can kiss my ass. I’m with Harry on this one. It’s not that I don’t trust the foster care system and I think anything negative about adoption, either. Maggie is a target because she’s a Dresden. That’s it. There is nothing she can ever do about it. She is the daughter of Harry Dresden, Captain fuckin’ Disaster of the supernatural world. There is no place she can go where she will be safe and Harry is honestly her best shot at being watched over and protected, but not only that, if she’s gonna be in danger her whole life, she might as well be loved and cared for by her father too. Harry brings up such a good point about feeling abandoned and rejected and how Eb’s “protection” jag didn’t work for Margaret either. I know he wants what’s best for her, but I agree that Maggie has a better chance of surviving at Harry’s side than somewhere else. Hell’s bells, that’s how this whole fucking thing started anyway. Susan’s bitch ass hid the kid and it didn’t work. Sheesh.
· And now the other elephant in the room: Murphy. I think part of me forgot how severe her injuries were. I had assumed months of PT and such would allow her to be mobile again, but then I read Chapter 5 and now I’m just angry and hurt. You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. You just don’t. I can’t help it. Murphy is my favorite, goddamn it. I’ve reread the books where she’s helping Harry the most because their dynamic is so phenomenal. They’re my OTP. She is one of the best written female characters I’ve ever known, so ripping her ability to be at Harry’s side away is so…2020. It’s just a nasty, horrible thing and it’s shot my excitement for this novel right in the foot. I didn’t realize how important it was to me that Murphy is Harry’s badass ace in the hole until I was told she’ll be lucky to walk again. I know things have to get worse for characters in order for them to grow, but fuck this so much. I am praying she gets a magical contract or healing or a wish or something so she’s back in action or I’m done.
· With that same elephant, fuck Jim Butcher for skipping over the foreplay at the end of Chapter 5. Yes, I said it. Fuck him. I know he thinks it’s funny to frustrate us, but this is an act of betrayal of the highest order. Why? Because I’ve waited TWENTY FUCKING YEARS for Harry and Murphy to go canon, and what does he do the first time we, the audience, get to see them in a relationship? Cut to curtains fluttering. Fuck you. We deserved that foreplay scene. No, I will NOT use my fucking imagination, pun intended. I just paid you $15 to use YOUR imagination, Jim. You spent fifteen books building up the trust, love, loyalty, and sexual tension of these two characters. That’s countless words and countless pages. And now that they’re FINALLY together, nope, skip it. Skip what should have been something intimate and powerfully emotional. Ha-ha-fucking-ha. I hope you step on a Lego barefoot. I will try to have faith that Butcher will give us what we want—a canon version of Chapter 14 of Skin Game—but if he doesn’t, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.
· The thought of Mab and Lara Raith working together is utterly terrifying. No. Just no. Ugh, there are bad times ahead. I also thought it was kind of contrived that Lara is owed favors, which forces Harry to not be able to say no, and I think it’s a bit lazy on Jim’s part for this convenient block to be there and he can’t refuse the favors. It just felt like he didn’t want to put the energy into painting Harry into a corner this time, so here, a convenient favor. That being said, I cackled when Mab called him a bowl of porridge. That was legitimately hilarious. What a bitch.
· Mm, Harry just called Murphy his girlfriend. I’ve waited twenty years for that alone. *happy sigh*
· Oh, great. Someone sent Thomas to assassinate someone. I’m betting blackmail, whether he admits to it or not.
· LOL @ Harry’s cursing policy with Maggie.
· Harry. Don’t. Make. Promises. EVER.
· I would not be the least bit surprised if this assassination attempt is Mab’s idea to cut off all of Harry’s allies but her so he will have no choice but to use her protection more often. Mab is a cold fuckin’ piece. Pun intended.
· Harry, for real, do not square up with Ebenezar. You are a wolf, for sure, but that man is a werewolf by comparison.
· I’m getting real tired of Ebenezar’s anti-vampire schtick. I get it. They’re bad. Now shut up.
· This is so unfortunate: I’ve been missing Lara Raith just because she’s a hoot but with this whole favor thing and Harry and Murphy being fitted for chastity belts, I’m more tired than anything else.
· Oh, neat, one of Gard’s sisters!
· Of course Lara knows about Thomas being Ebenezar’s grandson. It’s Lara.
· Oh, good, I’m sure whatever deal Harry just made with Molly isn’t stupid or reckless.
· Yes, Sanya is a VERY weird man. That is an understatement, Butters.
· Aha. I had a hunch it was River Shoulders and not the Genoskwa.
· And oh good, the Genoskwa’s not dead. Yay. I hate you, Butcher.
· Now there is a good tidbit of story for the series: that the reason everything is accelerating into bad news is we’re about to hit that 666 year mark that people are talking about, where the even worse shit hits. We’ve had small clues about Harry being starborn and this helps provide context for the shit that happens to him. I hope it’s not a Chosen One scenario, but it does explain why he’s been in so many scrapes and why he’s made it out of them so far. However, I tend to dislike destiny in most stories. It can get tedious. We’ll see what’s in store.
· Ugh, and there it is, but I already knew Lara was gonna make poor Harry break Thomas out from the book trailer anyhow. Sigh.
· Murphy calling the White Council useless is a fuckin’ mood and a half. I swear, they ain’t nothing but useless since these books first started. Harry hit the nail on the head earlier with Carlos and the Wardens, that they spend a lot of time talking at Harry but not listening. That’s been their entire M.O. from the start. They don’t listen to anything he has to say; they just insist they know better and that he should fall in line, not caring about what he has on said line, which is very often innocent lives. I love the hypocrisy of them preaching to him about making cold, rational decisions when it’s not their asses who have to deal with the consequences. Yes, there is fallout from what Harry does, but the opposition is always there and it doesn’t act solely based on what Harry Dresden does. I really fucking hate the Council at this point.
· So we get a second of tender kissing in the tub and an “I love you” and then Butcher cuts away again. I am so over it. I don’t have enough energy to put towards how angry he’s making me right now and he doesn’t deserve it anyway. I cannot believe he spent all this time building this relationship up and then makes it canon and won’t touch it. Fuck you.
· Murphy immediately spotting all three of Harry’s tails is life. God, I love my bad bitch.
· I do like that Harry has been practicing his Veils. That’s smart. It also shows character development and wisdom that he’s recognizing how much more useful stealth is and that even though it’s hard for him, it’s worth the effort to learn. Good book boyfriend.
· It’s still Murphy, bitch. Injured or not. My queen is a queen. Try her if you want, Freydis.
· PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT MURPHY YOU POOR CATHOLIC DARLING COME HERE. That pass was hilariously unexpected in a book that hasn’t been all that funny so far. Thanks, Jim. That got a whole bunch of cackling out of me.
· “I like your brother.” I just clapped and squealed. I mean, duh, of course Murphy likes Thomas, but this pleases me greatly to hear her say it aloud. Murph is tough and doesn’t like to say stuff like that out loud usually. I’m delighted.
· For all my complaints, I appreciate Butcher bringing Murphy in to help Harry plan everything. She’s hella smart and experienced in matters where you need to get someone out without being all guns a-blazing. And it is an apology for her being benched halfway thru Skin Game, imo.
· Oh, shit. Harry doesn’t know Molly’s the one who attacked Carlos. Ugh. I bet this is gonna explode in someone’s face.
· And Harry just fucked up the rest of his friendship with Carlos, not know Molly already did the same thing. Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeat.
· “You just went from a three to a six.” Jesus Christ, immortals are so savage, I swear. I laughed, tho. That was mean as hell.
· I’m dying that Freydis wants a threesome with Harry and Murphy. I mean, who can blame her? Fuck, I want a threesome with Harry and Murphy, if I’m being totally honest here. The thirst is so fucking real.
· Finally, someone made a joke about Harry and Murphy getting together.
· Ah, this IS what I missed about Lara, though—she loves to fuck with Harry for the lolz and nothing other than the lolz. I mean, he’s such a peach. I would do the same thing.
· Also, Jim, for God’s sake, make up your mind about vampires getting burned! I don’t get it. Thomas can touch Harry, and Harry is and always has been loved, so when do vampires get burned and when do they not? We’ve seen Harry touch Lara even when Susan was still alive and remember the kiss in White Night? MAKE UP YOUR GODDAMN MIND. I had a debate about this with another fan because it’s so goddamn inconsistent! If anyone being loved by anyone else burns them, then that would mean the entire world would be in the know about White Court vampires because they’d get burnt left and right touching people who are loved. I thought it only happens if they try to feed, not just touching each other. I think Jim needs to pay better attention to his own lore or finally spit out an explanation. We’ll see if he does later with that whole kiss thing from the book trailer, I guess. Argh! *Yosemite Sam curses*
· I’m really starting to hate Harry’s condition and the fact that he didn’t stop to ask Eb what it is or how to stop it. Ugh.
· Oh, good, and now everyone will think Harry and Lara are a couple. Convenient. Like they don’t already have constant trust issues. I’m sure Eb won’t block a gasket or anything.
· Oh, yay, a Malcolm Dresden flashback! This is a delightful surprise. Like a lot of the fanbase, we’ve always wanted to know more about him. He seemed like a good man.
· Yay! Vadderung to the rescue!
· Okay, I do NOT like Murphy being alone with a starving Thomas and Lara. Not one little bit.
· Ah, so the goddess Ethniu gets introduced in this book. That’s why Peace Talks got split and then Battle Ground popped out as the next book.
· “You’re out of the White Council if you do this.” FUCK YOU, EBENEZAR. Jesus Christ, fuck you. All the Council has EVER done is use and abuse Harry Dresden. They have constantly blamed him for everything or forced him to fight their goddamn battles. You can shove it right up your old crusty ass for all I care. I am sick to death of this belief that they are just so righteous and trustworthy and good when they’re self-important douchebags who think that people are ants and can’t be bothered to protect them unless it directly benefits the Council.
· I think I’m angriest because up until this point, Ebenezar has been mostly reasonable and it feels inorganic that Jim pushed him this hard. It’s just kind of exhausting because it feels like the plot needs Eb to lose his shit instead of it being something natural. I won’t be shocked if we find out he’s been compromised somehow, but I guess I’ll have to find out myself.
· Murphy is right on the money. We thought we knew Eb, but we REALLY don’t. And that sucks. A lot. Especially since Harry has barely any family at all.
· I can honestly tell why this book took Jim six years to write. It’s awful stagnant. It’s the exact same reason that the first draft of Of Fury and Fangs kicked my ass. I wrote the story in the first draft incorrectly, in a way, because all the characters were passive for the most part, and the other half of the problem was that I got halfway through this book and thought up an idea for a better book, but in order for the better book to happen, there were too many things I couldn’t ignore in this one, so I still had to finish it and make it good. Peace Talks, to me, feels like it’s obligatory to set up the next book, and maybe that’s why it feels lackluster to me. It’s a transitional book, which isn’t a bad thing, but it’s definitely in the bottom five of the entire series. Transitional books aren’t bad, but they aren’t good either. Most authors know that this tends to happen if you write a trilogy. All the really big, important shit tends to happen in the first and third book if you’re not careful. In this case, yeah, there’s stuff happening, but it’s largely passive. It’s kind of like why back in 2010 people were so hard on Iron Man 2—it spent all this time setting up shit for the MCU, which in the long run is a good thing, but that makes it weak when it tries to stand on its own.
As it stands, Peace Talks is mediocre. Jim took way too many shortcuts. It felt rushed, ironically enough, because he was so busy moving pieces around to set up for Battle Ground that Peace Talks doesn’t really stand out as interesting or likable like the other books. I really understand why he got stuck and couldn’t write on it for six years. My two biggest beefs here are him pushing Ebenezar into the antagonist role and him completely fucking bailing on the Harry/Murphy relationship after sixteen books of waiting. I mean, yeah, fine, because everything in this book is just set up for Battle Ground, maybe then we’ll get more acknowledgment of the romance and the importance of the relationship, but as it stands, I’m dissatisfied with both aspects. This is part of why we didn’t want a hiatus. If you make us wait this long, inevitably, the result is not going to be up to par. There are VERY few things we as people have waited forever for that ended up living up to our expectations. I almost feel like all the fan theories and fanfiction was a better, more creative result than what actually happened in Peace Talks. That’s harsh, I know, but I’ve been reading the fan generated stuff for six years and that’s just how I feel.
This is a mediocre novel that’s placing a LOT of weight on what’s to come, which is dangerous from a quality standpoint. It could be a lot worse. I was expecting a disaster. Instead, I got a disappointment. I can live with it, but only if Battle Ground makes up for it. If it doesn’t, then we’re all in a world of hurt.
I’ll take maybe a week or so and then consider if I want to do an actual review or not. We’ll see how I feel once I digest everything and talk it out with friends.
Overall Grade: 3 out of 5 stars
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Comfort Food
Fandom: Persona 5
Rating: PG
Summary:
Akechi has a food blog, Futaba thinks that's hilarious, Akira is a good friend, and Sojiro needs a drink.
Notes:
This was supposed to just be me projecting my issues on to Akechi because he's my emotional support bastard boi but somehow it turned into nearly 2500 words of tooth-rotting slice of life fluff. Whoops.
A03
Goro learned the hard way that hiding things from Futaba was impossible.
To be fair it wasn’t like he was trying to hide his food blog, he mentioned it in passing a few times and he knew that most of his followers were his fans, but he never really expected any of the Thieves to actually read it, let alone read it out loud, in front of him...while laughing at it.
“What are you, a high school girl?” Futaba said with a snicker after she finished reading his latest post aloud, “I’ve seen little girl’s diaries with more class.”
“Oh my god.” Akira choked out from beside Futaba behind Leblanc’s bar, desperately trying to muffle his laughs as Goro floundered.
He knew he shouldn’t care. The Thieves always poked fun at each other. ‘It’s what friends do,’ Akira had said. If anything he figured he should be grateful that Futaba considered him enough of a friend to playfully mock his hobby. But Goro was never good at regulating his inner emotions, and so as much as he tried to not let it get to him, it did.
Truthfully, he never meant to get into food. For the longest time, he considered it a pointless expense. In the various foster homes that he was tossed between food was almost a luxury. And to someone who often wondered where his next meal would come from it was hard to justify the cost of a fancy dinner when the same money could get him a month's worth of instant ramen and convenience store bento lunches.
But when he got into high school and wormed his way into the police force he suddenly was financially stable enough to justify luxury spending. Nijima-san was kind enough to pull some strings to get the agency to act as a guarantor so he could move out of the foster home and into a small apartment, and after he paid his bills and rent he was left staring at the remaining sum in his bank app, trying to wrap his head around how that money was his, and he could do whatever he wanted with it.
He tried to keep a level head and decided to go to a nearby department store to pick up things to furnish his new home, but on the way there he passed a diner and was stopped dead by the incredible smells drifting out the door. His stomach growled, and he found himself trying to remember the last time he had eaten something that hadn’t come wrapped in plastic and styrofoam.
His stomach growled again, and before he had time to think about it, knowing that if he did he would decide against it, he hurried into the restaurant. He was seated quickly, and despite feeling weirdly giddy and anxious he smiled at the kind waitress who took his order. The simple latte and plate of pancakes were probably the most delicious things he had ever tasted, and he couldn’t help how his eyes watered after the first bite, the food filling some empty part of himself he hadn’t even known existed.
Looking back on that day he’s grateful that he wasn’t famous yet, as no one cared to pay attention to the skinny teenager in the booth by the wall trying not to get tears in his dinner.
After that, he ate out at least once a week. He spent little on necessities, picking up most of the things he needed at the ¥100 store and buying used clothes, saving every extra bit that didn’t go into bills for food. Eventually, he started looking up new places to eat, and after finding a few food blogs he decided on a whim to start his own. It didn’t take off until after his big break, but he didn’t mind. The simple pictures and reviews he posted weren’t really for anyone else, and on days when he felt empty and angry, he would scroll back through them and feel a little bit better. Almost happy at the little niche he had carved out for himself.
Shortly after that Akechi’s entire life quickly became a delicate web of lies. He was a double, even triple agent, under so many layers of falsehoods even he struggled to keep it straight sometimes. If anyone ever bothered to break him down to his bare parts there really wasn’t much he actually did for himself. Every single facet of his life and personality had been carefully crafted to ensure he would be able to get the revenge he so desperately craved. He hardly ever did anything just for himself. Every interest he shared in interviews or mentioned around his ‘friends’ was for show, not something he honestly cared all that much about. It was annoying sometimes, having to pretend to care for things he felt apathetic towards, but it was necessary.
But food? Food stayed safe. It helped his Detective Prince facade once he got popular, after all the only thing teenage girls seemed to like more than cute boys was trendy food. And cute boys who love trendy food? That’s a check that writes itself. It made him look soft, approachable, and normal. So he indulged. Actually enjoying sharing the one part of himself that wasn’t fake.
Maybe that’s why Futaba’s mockery stung so much. He wouldn’t care if people made fun of his fake interests, but when it was the real him? It hurt.
He tried to laugh it off, blushing and begging her to stop. He insisted it’s just for his fans, he’s not really that immature or girly, it’s just for show! But each plea seemed to only make the situation worse, so he gave up and silently begged for her to get bored soon, his face an unnatural shade of red.
Akira, ever perceptive, seemed to notice something change in his demeanor, and without a second thought, the teen reached forward and plucked Futaba's phone right out of her hands.
"Hey!" She shouted, grabbing for it.
"Alright, alright, that's enough." He chided, holding the phone just out of Futaba's reach, "We all have our hobbies. But since we're in a sharing mood how about I tell Akechi-kun all about your Featherman shipping blog?"
A chill came over the room. "You wouldn't dare."
"Oh, I would." He turned to Goro with a devilish smirk, "See she loves the red and blue rangers together-"
"Akira I'll end you!" Futaba yelled, diving forward and attempting to tackle him. Akira, however, was taller, and easily deflected her blows.
"She was telling me about this doujinshi she read the other day-"
"I'll spread rumors about you on websites you've never even heard of!"
"It was so romantic-"
"I'll leak your bank info on the dark web!”
"It's by her favorite author too, she buys everything they release-"
"I'll destroy you with malware, you won't be able to BREATHE near a circuit board without getting a virus!"
"Tell me, Akechi-kun, do you know what smut is?"
"AKIRA!!!" Futaba shrieked, and it was quickly followed by the sound of clanging pots and Sojiro swearing loudly from the kitchen.
“Would you two cut it out?” He shouted, poking his head around the corner.
“Sorry Boss, just giving Futaba a lesson on being a good friend,” Akira replied with an apologetic smile.
“Well next time can you do it outside? You’re lucky I don’t have any customers in here right now.”
“You never have any customers...” Futaba mumbled.
“I heard that. And Futaba, I thought I asked you to tie up your hair when you’re behind the counter.”
“On it...” She grumbled, pulling her hair back into a lazy bun with the scrunchie on her wrist.
“We’ll keep the noise and health code violations to a minimum, Boss,” Akira said, shooting a lazy salute Sojiro’s way. The older man eyed them for another second before sighing and mumbling something about herding cats as he turned back to the curry.
With the situation defused, Akira and Futaba stared at each other, having a silent yet very animated conversation, but eventually, Akira seemed to win and Futaba sighed heavily, "Okay, okay,” She turned to Goro and gave him a bow, “I'm sorry for making fun of your blog Akechi-kun."
Goro hardly knew what to make of the display, let alone her apology, but it made him feel a bit better, so he relaxed and gave her a genuine smile, “It’s alright, Futaba-chan, I forgive you.”
“Can I have my phone back now, please?”
“You may,” Akira replied amicably, handing the hostage technology back to Futaba.
She smiled triumphantly before another dark look crossed her face. She eyed Goro, suspiciously, before blushing and tapping her fingers together “A-and Akechi-kun...you won’t tell anyone else about the...shipping thing, right?”
“To be honest...I’m not sure I fully understand what you were talking about,” He replied, “But your secret is safe with me.”
“I’m so proud of both of you,” Akira said with a fake teary-eyed sniff, “My two little introverts, making friends.”
Goro and Futaba broke out in protests, but a quick glare from Sojiro shut them both up.
“Wow, you’ve really got that ‘disappointed dad’ look down, Sojiro.” Akira quipped.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than raise hell in my cafe?”
“As much as it breaks my heart, yes.” Akira said, untying his apron and heading around the counter, “I’ve got a date with a pile of dirty dishes in Shinjuku.”
“You’re not taking Morgana?” Futaba asked as he grabbed his bag and jacket.
“Nah, he hates The Crossroads, says the alcohol smell makes his nose itch. When he wakes up from his nap just let him know where I went.”
“Roger that.”
“Thanks,” He said, “See you guys later! Oh, and try not to get into too much trouble while I’m away.”
Futaba rolled her eyes dramatically, and Goro, still feeling a bit lost, simply shrugged.
“Akira, text me when you get there! You know I don’t like you going to that part of town so late.” Sojiro called, and Goro had to suppress a smirk. Akira had faced down far worse threats than the red light district at night. But it must be nice, he figured, to have someone worry about you.
“Got it!” Akira replied, the bell jingling as the door closed behind him.
Futaba seemed to deflate in his absence, looking anxious. She had explained once that Akira was something called a ‘key item’ that gave her ‘a plus ten confidence boost’, and he assumed that just meant she was shy when he wasn’t around. Goro turned back to his discarded coffee, grimacing a bit when a sip revealed it to be lukewarm.
“Uh, I can make you another cup...it’s my fault that one went cold anyway.” She said, clearly trying to make things up to him, “Sojiro’s been teaching me. It probably won’t be as good as his though. I’m still totally stuck on tutorial mode.”
“Oh, um, that would be lovely.” He replied, “Thank you.”
She started the process, carefully measuring grounds as the kettle heated, “You know, you should write about Leblanc on your blog. You like the food here, right?”
“I-”
“Absolutely not.” Sojiro interrupted, joining Futaba behind the bar to supervise the brewing.
“But Sojirooo! Akechi-kun is popular, you might actually get some business for once!”
“I don’t want that kind of business. Sorry Akechi-kun, but hundreds of fangirls in here every day ordering fancy drinks and asking when their beloved Detective Prince is coming back? I can feel my blood pressure skyrocketing just thinking about it.” He replied with a chuckle, “A man my age can only handle so many loud teenagers at once, and Akira’s band of hooligans already pushes the limit.”
“Don’t worry, Saku...uh, sorry, Boss. I understand.” Goro clarified, “There have actually been several cases of popular food writers unwittingly causing small restaurants to close due to their articles increasing interest to an unmanageable level. I wouldn’t dream of doing that to Leblanc.”
“Glad we’re on the same page then.”
Futaba finished making the coffee, grinning when Sojiro complimented her technique. She eagerly pushed a fresh cup to him, practically vibrating while she watched him take a sip. It was true that it wasn’t as amazing as her father’s, but it was still good and had its own charm.
“You did well.” He said, and he couldn’t help chuckle when she broke out in a wide smile, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest at the sight.
“Yes! I leveled up! Plus five coffee making exp!”
“We’ll make a barista of you yet.” Sojiro said fondly, “Now, it’s getting late. Akechi-kun, do you have dinner plans? I’ve got enough curry back here to feed an army, you’re welcome to stay.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose...”
“Just say yes.” Futaba whispered to him with a smirk, “Sojiro put all of his stat points into feeding wayward teens.”
“Then...yes, I’d be honored.” Akechi said, too confused to be offended by being called ‘wayward’.
“The honor is ours,” Futaba replied solemnly, giving an overly formal bow before breaking out laughing.
Sojiro wasted no time serving up three plates of curry, chatting idly with Futaba as she went to flip the open sign to closed. The two of them managed to herd Goro into a booth just as Morgana trotted downstairs, asking about Akira and demanding food. Futaba poked the poor not-cat a few times while Sojiro retrieved Morgana’s food bowl and popped open a fresh can of cat food.
“Sorry,” Sojiro said, pulling up a chair and making room on the table for Morgana’s dish, “He throws a tantrum if he doesn’t get to eat with us.”
“I do not!” Morgana shouted indignantly, “I’m just too civilized to eat on the floor.”
“Chatty cat,” Sojiro replied, giving Morgana a few chin scritches.
“Morgana is family,” Futaba said sagely, “And a family that eats together, stays together.”
‘...Family, huh...’ Goro thought to himself.
“What’s up Akechi-kun?” Futaba asked, and he blushed lightly as he realized he was staring off into space.
“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s nothing,” He deflected, “The food looks delicious, Boss. Thank you.”
“Thank you for the food!” Futaba yelled before digging into her plate, and the rest of them quickly followed suit.
As the four of them shared the meal, Goro felt the warm feeling from before grow and spread through his chest. Futaba was using her fork to flick small bits of meat at Morgana despite Sojiro’s half-hearted complaints, cheering as Morgana somehow managed to catch every single one. The smell of curry and coffee and cat food mingled in the air with laughter and shouts, giving the whole room a feeling not unlike a comforting hug.
Goro allowed himself a small smile, sure that the only reason he felt so happy was the food.
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