#anyway. 13 IS less insulting in general | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tumbleringismycopingmechanism · 1 year

Note

11-33, 36, 37, 40, 41

Thanks for all the asks! (Totally not using this to procrastinate learning for my next exam 🙈)

11: Best friend?

Tbh, noone really comes to mind. I'm not really good at holding contact, so I don't really talk to my school friends anymore, and I'm awful at making new friends, so I don't have any friends from uni either. The only people I consider friends currently are the handful of people that text with me on here, but I've known most of them for less than a year (heck, mostly even less than half a year) and we usually only text like once or twice a week (sometimes less), so I don't think any of them count as a best friend either.

12: Relationship status

I'm single and have been wondering for a while now if maybe I should try to remain single because I'm not sure I'm fit for a relationship rn

13: Biggest turn ons

I'm not sure how to answer that, because while I'm into wg stuff and bigger guys, I'm not sure it turns me on irl (as in, I will find it cute/sexy but I'm not sure I'd get sexually turned on, if that makes sense. I'm not really fond of the idea of having sex anyways, and the only times I kissed someone so far I disliked it as well, which is why I'm wondering if I'm somewhere on the ace spec.)

14: Biggest turn offs

Well, for one, an unlikeable personality (e.g. if someone's racist, sexist etc., doesn't matter how hot their body may be, I'm turned off). Apart from that, I'd advise you to look at the jars on my pinned post. Pretty much every one that is empty is gonna be a turn off for me.

15: Favorite movie

I'm a sucker for Sleeping Beauty (1959). (I'm a sucker for fairytales and their retellings in general, but this movie is the one dearest to me.)

16: I’ll love you if

... you spend time with me without me having to ask (or beg) you for it. Because most people don't.

17: Someone you miss

Weird as it may sound, some of my old teachers

18: Most traumatic experience

I think the one that has influenced my life the most is probably my best friend that I'd had since kindergarden deciding overnight that not only we weren't friends anymore, but to bully me through the entirety of 4th grade. (The breaking with me as friends part was well justified, the bullying feels like it was probably the over-reaction of a 10-year-old.)

19: A fact about your personality

I love being amongst people, until I realize that I'm shit at interacting and that me being there is no different to me not being there - then I get melancholic and need a break or leave entirely

20: What I hate most about myself

My social incompetence and my competitiveness as well as my eagerness to please

21: What I love most about myself

My creativity (though I'm usually not capable of expressing it in the way I want to)

22: What I want to be when I get older

Happy

23: My relationship with my sibling(s)

Could be better. I think both of my sisters dislike me for opposing reasons

24: My relationship with my parent(s)

Could be better. I feel like neither of them was really there for me growing up, but now that I'm an adult they seem to wanna rectify that - which just feels weird because it's like two strangers suddenly want to spend time with me

25: My idea of a perfect date

I've always wanted to lie underneath the stars and stare up into the universe with someone

26: My biggest pet peeves

The only one that comes to mind rn is my sister somehow managing to drop water on half our bathroom floor when taking the two steps from the sink to the towels every single time. (I'm sure I have tons more though)

27: A description of the girl/boy I like

Edit: almost forgot this one.

Well, in general, kind men with a chubby figure

28: A description of the person I dislike the most

Okay, so the first one that comes to mind is a girl I went to school with. She was usually a huge bitch but when she was in a somewhat decent mood she'd always act super casual, like she didn't spend 99% of her day trying to find new ways to mock/insult you. I also suspect she's kind of a gold digger, because the guy she dated (and still dates) has the personality of a brick but is really fucking loaded

29: A reason I’ve lied to a friend

The only thing that comes to mind rn is that I was super ashamed of my crush in high school, so whenever my friends asked if there was someone I found cute, I'd lie and say there wasn't

30: What I hate the most about work/school

The pressure of it all. I usually feel like I should be ashamed when I spend even a minute on myself, because there's always something else I could/should do for uni (like right now for example...). But also, all courses make it seem like there's exactly one proper way to be a teacher, and if you don't fit into that, you fail your students (like, supposedly as a teacher you should be capable of making your students interested in your subject, make sure they don't get any mental health problems because of school, teach the subject in a way that shows the students how it connects to (their) everyday life, follow the curriculum, be close to your students but not too close, anticipate and avoid any misconceptions that may apear, etc.). Idk, it just feels like a bit much sometimes, especially when you have to have all of that in the back of your mind while standing in front of 30 people and teach.

31: What your last text message says

It's in German, but it roughly translates to "I'm leaving soon; is there anything I should take with me for you?"

32: What words upset me the most

In the recent past:

Being accused of fetishising gay people (and my sister half-agreeing with the accusation)

My mother sometimes casually refering to the time spent with me instead of working as "time wasted"

Someone telling me that a compliment I got from a teacher at the end of my school time wasn't as special as I had hoped, because it's something they say regularly to students when they graduate

33: What words make me feel the best about myself

Honestly, I'm not sure words can do anything to make me feel good about myself anymore. I'm so used to getting nice words but actions that don't match them that I think at this point my default is just smiling, thanking you for the kind words (maybe giving you some in return, if I can think of them quick enough) and feeling hollow inside

36: Where I would like to live

I like my home town and plan on moving back there when I'm done studying

37: One of my insecurities

My weight/figure

40: Who wish I could be

Depends on my mood. Sometimes I wish I were literally anyone else. Sometimes it almost feels enough to just want to be the best version of myself. Sometimes I want to be a version of me that I know will never exist. 🤷‍♀️

41: Where I want to be right now

Approximately a week in the past, actually studying for my exam instead of putting it off for so long. (Also, once the exam is over my answer might be France or Italy, or maybe somewhere I've never been before.)

#me #asks #thanks for the asks #i love getting asks

2 notes · View notes

izzyspussy · 1 year

Text

I posted 23,652 times in 2022

That's 3,868 more posts than 2021!

3,189 posts created (13%)

20,463 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@calicojackofficial

@yankovic

@treesofgreen

@second-hand-heaven

@jezifster

I tagged 22,086 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#i can queue you with my brain - 4,132 posts

#jack facts - 3,426 posts

#horror tag - 2,986 posts

#ofmd - 2,954 posts

#writing process - 2,776 posts

#reading process - 1,798 posts

#word - 1,563 posts

#please - 1,088 posts

#witch noir - 1,037 posts

#jack chats - 986 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#s: do you think whales have feelings. i: shut the fuck up. go to sleep. e: i bet they do. i think they probably sing love songs to each othe

My Top Posts in 2022:

anyway so basically the crew overhears blackbonnet finally having sex, right, and it's ed's first time vanilla-ing so for the crew members who have overheard him before... sounds different. and everyone also just kind of alsfjasl figured that stede is not great in bed just given his general swaglessness. so ASLFKJASL they assume that ed is faking for him lmaoooo. even izzy is in on this. he hates the "invasion of blackbeard's privacy" BUT he loves the insult to stede and the potential for trouble in pansyboy paradise.

so the crew are all trying to figure this out. they're trying to catch them In It enough to really tell if those noises are genuine (and also, on the part of the black half what the fuck is captain bonnet doing) but at the same time nobody wants to actually have to bear witness. those are their dads.

throughout these hijinks (which mostly consist of gossip), izzy and the black half occasionally mention jack. izzy has the most info about That Whole Thing due to his curse/privilege of having been ed's (best? only? can you be the best if you're the only? much to forcibly not think about) friend previous to all of this. ed and jack had a Thing when they were young, and they usually take it up again briefly whenever they run into each other now.

so of course izzy gets an idea. he's already basically done this once, can't hurt to try again. but the rest of the crew is in on it this time - where izzy is trying to tempt ed and break him and stede up, everyone else just wants a first hand Source.

so izzy contacts jack by way of plot device messenger seagull or whatever and he shows up again (not sure if dead in canon...?). ed isn't as happy to see him this time but he doesn't seem upset either, though he does take jack aside on the first night so he can receive his threat to behave from Blackbeard (TM) without an audience. stede also, uh, has some words of warning for him. the crew (and the audience) know not what stede said, but strangely enough that seems to have been the more effective Talk.

unfortunately for izzy jack's presence does not do fuck or shit to cause drama between ed and stede. on the one hand, ed now has a direct comparison to make between the sex he was having and the sex he is having, and he's coming up preferable toward the present. on the other hand, jack makes stede jealous, which makes him possessive, which makes him get a little less vanilla, so really it's a moot point regardless. co-captain sex gets better/worse, depending which side of the door you're on.

jack, however, has a mission and he's gonna see it through. not izzy's mission, that guy is a fuckin downer (and he himself doesn't really want ed back, never really did honestly). the gossip mill, though. that thing needs fed and by god jack is gonna feed it. least he can do for murdering that bird is to tell everyone if their poncy captain is a hardcore freak or not.

so jack gives up trying to make ed horny - and it's not that this wasn't working, it's just that when ed got horny from, say, seeing jack mess around with that fucking whip, his first thought was always to take that up with stede - and instead just starts asking him things directly.

ed leads ship's business one morning (they alternate who has to get up early) and underneath his steadily growing scruff he looks like he's been fucking mauled. from just under both ears all the way down below the collar of his not especially high cut shirt (and who knows how much further) he's absolutely covered in red-purple hickeys.

"thought you hated being marked up," jack not-quite asks. ed grins at him, uncomplicatedly happy (and that's the real difference innit). he's the epitome of 'bright-eyed and bushy-tailed'.

"nah," he says. "didn't wanna risk being marked up. but i'm fucking blackbeard now, i can do whatever i want."

(now jack would never, ever admit this, not even to himself. but maybe now he's the one who's a little jealous, because-)

"you were blackbeard last time we fucked."

"yeah, guess i was," ed allows, entirely unperturbed. "you didn't try it."

"would you have let me?" jack asks, already knowing the answer perfectly well. ed thinks about it, very briefly, shrugs again.

"prob'ly not."

later, stede calls ed 'darling' on deck. jack asks about this too, and ed simply tells him that stede also calls him 'baby' and 'sweetheart'. sweetheart! he repeats in credulity, shaking his head, pointing at himself.

(jack did attempt to call ed 'baby' - once - and had been told that if he ever said it again he'd have his dick cut off and fed to him piece by piece over a period of several days.)

finally, finally, jack can't take the 'mystery' anymore and, in a tight weed circle with ed and a few lucky crew members one night after stede has long gone to bed, he asks straight up, "so how does he compare?"

it takes ed a moment to realize what the fuck jack is asking, and when he does he laughs out loud. "what, to you?"

and really. that fucking answers that, dunnit.

340 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

"only fanfiction has things like 'enemies to lovers'"

huh. weird. i could have sworn pride and prejudice was a traditionally published book studied academically as a piece of classic literature...

819 notes - Posted January 11, 2022

I hate when I read a good book and it makes me want to write my book good but writing a good book is not nearly as easy as reading one

947 notes - Posted September 27, 2022

Ok final ask from me tonight: who in the crew would be the funniest for Izzy to fake date? I think angstiest would definitely go to Ed but funniest? Idk ~ blackhannet anon

Funniest (and angstiest) if Ed has no earthly clue that this is torture for Izzy. Also very funny that his only point of reference is Stede. Ed, in his mind: so which of us is the wealthy landowner and which of us is the bloodthirsty pirate? He puts himself into the Stede role and treats Izzy real chivalrous and gentlemanly and whatnot, but.... very badly kaslfkjls. He doesn't actually know how to do it.

Stede

Stede, in his mind: so which of us is the wealthy landowner and which of us is the bloodthirsty pirate? Can I be the pirate? I wanna be the pirate. I'm going to be the pirate. And Izzy has to figure out how to play along with that or they fail the fucking mission and get killed or whatever.

Jim

The extent of what they do to convince their mark is hold hands, poorly. Like Stede and Mary on their wedding day. ...At First. Izzy has been saying what a terrible idea this is since it was suggested, and as soon as it seems like he was right he's gloating even though it means he's failed. And then it's a challenge to Jim, a way to win and also wipe that smirk off of Izzy's face. They start hitting him really hard in the mouth with their mouth for no god damn reason except that the mark is, like, there.

Oluwande

Olu treats Izzy with chivalry, but like, real genuine working class chivalry. Every time Izzy looks into the middle distance, Jim is there, threatening him with great bodily harm. No one else ever sees them.

Lucius

The plan was not to fake date, but the mark made assumptions and they had to go with it. Lucius has an absolute blast. Izzy's internal rage/sexual tension is pulled so tight it's a miracle he doesn't snap right in half. Lucius is fully aware of this, and the knowledge is 80% of the fun he's having.

Black Pete

Izzy has never been called so many pet names in his life. He's never heard of so many pet names in his life. He attempts to return the favor and sounds like he is trying to speak a language he does not know. The mark falls for the ruse because Pete is very cute despite all obstacles, but they do take Pete aside after their business is done and ask if Izzy has something fundamentally wrong with him.

Frenchie

Somehow this is the most competent combination. Frenchie is adaptable and personable and can manage to fit with Izzy pretty well, even if he wouldn't actually choose to for real. They fall into simple, non-PDA demonstrations of intimacy like walking in sync or anticipating each other's movements. The only fuck up is that Frenchie does accidentally reprise "Jizzy" in front of the mark, and in the name of their cover Izzy has to answer to it.

Buttons

Izzy thinks this is the least objectionable combination. Buttons doesn't like him, but he's a competent sailor and he hasn't yet caused Izzy any real trouble. Of course, throughout the grift, Izzy is confronted with all the ways Buttons is an absolutely bonkers person who cannot be handled, understood, or even described. Buttons has an alright time, though. He tells the crew after it's done that Izzy is "a fine lad" but not his type. Izzy has no comment, as he has not yet recovered from his experiences.

Roach

Roach seems to genuinely think he Needs to know about Izzy's kinks and fetishes to make them believable as a couple. He tells Izzy his without shame or prompting. Izzy cancels the mission.

Wee John

Wee John insists he has to be a woman for this. He's fully aware that couples do not solely consist of one man and one woman. But he insists he has to be a woman for this.

The Swede

The Swede, out loud: so which of us is the wealthy landowner and which of us is the bloodthirsty pirate?

1,349 notes - Posted May 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

rookie mistake ed made not letting stede and izzy sniff each other through the bathroom door for a week before introducing them smh

1,986 notes - Posted April 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #jack facts #writing process #reading process

5 notes · View notes

dorothydalmati1 · 8 months

Text

Obscure Animation Subject #34: Scaredy Squirrel

Originally posted on Twitter on March 13, 2023

OBSCURE ANIMATION SUBJECTS ARE BACK BABY! Our last subject was on FantomCat on February 2nd. Been a month and 11 days huh?

Anyways, loosely based on the book series by Mélanie Watt, the show was produced in Canada by Nelvana.

Developed by Matt Ferguson and Jillian Ruby, it was directed by co-developer Matt Ferguson, whose also a writer on the show, and aired on YTV from April 1, 2011 to August 17, 2013. In the US which is my home country, it aired on Cartoon Network and grew up with it a bit.

It aired on the channel from August 9, 2011 to June 22, 2013, only the first two seasons aired, but Qubo started airing the show on March 27, 2017, and aired the third season, with the show making its final broadcast on July 24, 2020. Qubo would also shut-down by 2021.

The series ran for a total of three seasons with 52 episodes, each episode containing two 11-minute stories, which makes a total of 104 segments. The show follows a squirrel named Scaredy and his best friend Dave, a skunk. They have adventures in their town Balsa City.

Scaredy works as a stacker at a grocery store called Stash "N" Hoard, and is fond of cleaning and is germophobic. His best friend Dave, is dimwitted and fonds being messy, and because he’s a skunk he also loves farting. Does some of what I describe sound a bit familiar to you?

This show is often considered a rip-off of SpongeBob with most characters having similar personalities to ones you may find in SpongeBob. However, that isn’t the biggest problem. The biggest problem is that this show is so ANNOYING! It’s one those shows that won’t shut-up!

It thinks that screaming and shouting is comedy gold, but it bleeds ears instead, especially with the theme song where the main characters SINGS OBNOXIOUS GIBBERISH! Yeah the voice-acting is terrible. The animation, character designs and the backgrounds are generic and dull as well.

The characters if you take the annoying voices out, are very bland and forgettable, with the main character being the worst offender, with his only trait being a self centered dumbass and that’s it. Yeah, this show is insulting to the books that were innocent and lighthearted.

I beg you to not watch this show and just stick to the books instead. Watching-wise stick to SpongeBob as its this show but less annoying, a lot funnier, better animated and better characters. As bad as seasons 6-8 were, their definitely better than this show!

#Scaredy Squirrel #obscure animation

1 note · View note

direwolfrules · 1 year

Text

Hey, so, vent time. If you only follow me for Star Wars related nonsense then this is your warning to escape now. If you hate LGBTQIA+ individuals then please just fucking leave. Get out, block me, drown in a river, whatever. Just leave.

My dad’s an old school Bensonhurst type of guy. He drops slurs like the US government drops bombs, liberally and with great intensity. And some of his favorites happen to be the homophobic ones.

Now, I feel that I should mention that I’m only out to my mom. My dad has no idea that his daughter is anything less than 100% heterosexual. Part of that is because of the reasons in this post.

So, my dad loves to throw around a certain word that begins with D. I’m not censoring it because of any bullshit TikTok nonsense btw, but because I physically cannot type it out with wanting to cry.

Dad loves the D word. Him and my uncle, always throwing it around. Any woman who looks slightly butch? “She looks D***y”. Any time my mom mentions her multitude of sapphic coworkers? “Is that the D**e one?”

And in one particularly fun incident, when I was 13 my mom and I got into our eight millionth fight about my wearing a dress to a school function (I wanted to wear my really nice pantsuit and seriously how the fuck did my mom not know until I came out?!) and my dad decided to throw in his two cents. Can you guess what he said? I’ll give you a hint. It rhymes with “You look like a shmike”.

Great thing for little me who was first realizing that straight girls don’t think about kissing other girls to hear. Set me so far back in the closet I didn’t even see the door again till senior year of high school. Can you see why I’m not out to this man yet? Or possibly ever? I can just hide a part of myself away forever, right?

Now, this brings me to what happened not even a full fucking hour ago. Family dinner, everything was nice, until we started talking about how a guy we were once associated with got blacklisted from a local vet because he got into the face of a woman who also does animal rescue. My dad asks “Was it a woman who’d need protection or one of those really d**ey looking ones?”

I tell him not to say that word again, because I have friends in the community and I fucking hate slurs (again, not out and not coming out to him anytime soon). He gets pissy, tries to say it’s just a word, he’s always used it, he doesn’t get what the big deal is, it’s just a descriptor, etc.

My mom plays peacemaker between the two of us, corrects dad on his vocabulary and introduces him to the word butch, and my mom tries to tell me that I have to understand her and dad are from a different generation (you know, that old excuse, as if my great-grandfather who served in WWII didn’t wash out his children and grandchildren’s mouths with soap for saying slurs, because “Hateful language doesn’t need malice behind it to be hateful”).

I admit, I escalated it. I, with tears in my eyes because it fucking sucks hearing slurs that apply to you from the mouth of someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally, brought up the incident from when I was 13. That he knew that word is an insult because he used it as one against me. He knows how to use that word in hate.

It was the first time I’ve brought up that incident since it happened. You see, we don’t talk about stuff in my family, we bottle up all our emotions until they explode in either rage or near suicidal depression. Healthy, I know.

Anyway, dad got pissy, things got tense and silent, until I asked him to pass the bread. He fucking flung the bread knife down on the table in front of me. Which. I’m a 19 year old with out of wack hormones, it’s expected that I be a little bitchy (literally what my doctor said, love her). What’s his excuse?

So like, yeah. Now I’m just doing that fucking shame spiral thing in my room where I hate myself and wishing I didn’t think girls were just like, fucking amazing. I think my life would have been a hell of a lot easier if I was only into guys. At least then I wouldn’t feel like someone took an ice pick to my heart every time my dad and uncle make another fucking gay joke.

My mom tries at least, but she’s got no fucking idea what to say to me. She was raised not to rock the boat. Unfortunately, it’s already been rocked and I’m off the side, drowning under the waves. I’m drowning, and instead of pulling me up my dad’s wacking me over the head with the oar, and he doesn’t even fucking realize it.

#vent post #tw homophobia #tw slurs #tw homophobic slurs #bisexual #wlw vent #homophobia #personal vent #homophobes dni #family issues #long post

1 note · View note

shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (vi)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: BUCKY BARNES IS BACK AND HAS A CONFIRMED PERSONALITY

also omg everyone who’s been sending me ideas- ur the lomls.

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Your place or mine? ;)

He stares at the text.

The right answer is mine. See you at the lair.

“Y’all are dating now?” Clint peeks over his shoulder.

“Fuck no,” Bucky says indignantly. “God forbid.”

“Okay, man,” he retracts, giving Bucky space to turn around and face him. “What do you want to call your mini dates then?”

“Missions,” Bucky corrects him.

“No one wants to go on a mission. You volunteered to go back there.”

“It’s for the good of the tristate area.”

“I bet.” The snort he lets out contradicts his words. “Whole world is depending on you, Barnes. Go save them from the treachery of your crush.”

“Enemy.”

“Girlfriend.”

“Mortal nemesis.” Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “Go further, I dare you.”

“What are you gonna do? Choke me? Punch me with your metal arm?” Clint cranes his neck. “Bring it, big boy. I’m not scared of some kinky shit.”

He hates living here.

The door is left open for him.

This time, even though the lair is still illuminated by the green light out in the front, there’s a minor change. Sunlight streams in through a skylight in the roof.

There’s a ladder there, leaning against the rim. It gives him an entrance to the roof, which, judging by the lack of any other presence in the lab, is where he’s supposed to go.

As he gets closer he notices there’s a note on one of the rungs.

‘Evil’ with an arrow pointing upwards.

He rolls his eyes, discarding it on the floor before swiftly scaling the steps.

“Ah, Mr. Barnes,” he hears your voice call out even before his head pops up above the surface. “We’ve been expecting you.”

He pauses, looking around. “Who’s with you?”

Because other than the gigantic machine pointed up towards the sky, there’s only you with a visor and sunglasses. The best way he can describe its design was that it was shaped like a pine cone, had a large antenna pointed towards the sky, two handlebars near its base to manoeuvre it with a large button in between them.

“Just imagine I have my henchmen with me,” you urge. “I’m on a budget, man, I can’t afford them yet. Maybe when my cloning machine finally works-”

He doesn’t answer.

“It’s a James Bond reference,” you add when he doesn’t show any signs of answering.

“Haven’t watched it yet.” Bucky shrugs. “We’re doing Star Trek right now.”

“You’re done with Star Wars?” you, receiving a nod in confirmation. “Nice. You’d find the spy shit ridiculous anyway, it’s way below your level.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He makes a mental note to add the Bond movies to the list.

“Speaking of stars,” you begin, gesturing to the machine. “I’m going to harness the power of the sun.”

“For what?” He doesn’t bother asking how, he already knows you’ve figured out something.

“There’s a science exhibition and my team’s stupid solar car experiment isn’t working and I need it for them to win.”

“So build a better one.”

“No, ours is the best and if Jeff and his stupid baking soda volcano beat us then we’re going to have a murder on our hands.”

“Your hands,” he emphasises. He has nothing to do with this.

“I said what I said, boy.” You glare at him. “This is our problem now.”

“How much power are you taking?” If it’s insignificant enough, it wouldn’t matter much. He thinks.

“The whole thing.”

He laughs. He stops when you don’t.

“You’re taking all the energy of the sun to power your shitty science model.”

“Your face is a shitty science model,” you mimic him in a higher pitched voice. “I will do anything to win.”

He wonders which grade kid you stole that insult from was in. There’s no way they were anything older than 13. He could use it on Steve, maybe.

“Everyone on Earth will die.” He feels the need to remind you, even though there was no way it was actually going to take place. Eat shit, Clint. This superseded the tristate area.

“Not for eight minutes.” You look at your watch. “And, if Jeff dies then I win by default.”

“You’ll die too,” he points out.

“I’ll die a winner.” You nod seriously as if that makes it better.

He’s not that worried. Experience tells him that you’re not a mass murderer willingly.

“You’ll die an idiot.”

“Only if you don’t stop me.” Your lips curve into a smile. “And how will you when I do this?”

You yank the machine to point towards him and slam the button. His hand reflectively pulls in front of him to defend himself. Something hits him with enough force to send him skidding backwards slightly.

He removes his hand carefully from in front of him, looking at you.

Something feels off.

“You just-”

The knives strapped to his thighs suddenly feel heavier.

“Took your powers?” you finish his thought. “Yeah.”

He feels his body tip towards his left. He’s suddenly very aware of the weight of the arm. Had it been this heavy all this while?

“You’ve barely changed,” you noted, “You’re just regular Bucky but like, 20% less beef.”

After all, he was a boxer when he was a teen. One of the best men the Howling Commandos had even before the serum.

His shoulder feels heavier though. And somehow he thinks he’s sensing things a little less. He can’t really hear the faint buzzing of the generator downstairs anymore.

“Yep, that’s real muscle.” He turns when you poke at his shoulder. He doesn’t know when you got there. “You’re like a modern day Schwarzenegger. Grade A beefcake.”

He can’t see the construction site near the horizon as clearly as he used to.

Something about this situation makes him feel like he’s going to have a midlife crisis, even though he’s overshot the age by a huge number. No one has a midlife crisis at 106.

“Now that we’ve established that this works,” you say, back near the machine again. When did you walk there? “Let’s show this bitch that I’m the brightest star allowed in this solar system.”

He shakes his head to jolt himself awake, shoves aside his mental dysfunction and breaks out into a sprint when you pull the device down to aim it at the sky.

He latches onto the side, using his left hand to pull himself up, straddling the machine.

“Excuse me,” you exclaim like it’s a minor inconvenience and he feels the machine sway wildly under him. “You’re weighing it down, get off my inator.”

You’re shooting recklessly, trying to shake him off. It’s not dissimilar to the mechanical bull Natasha made him ride during a mission down south so she could win money off placing bets on him. They had lobster that night.

He reaches down to its side, hoping to feel maybe a panel he can rip off. He finds nothing.

He hopes none of the rays are actually hitting anything. It’s a little harder to stay on than he’d imagined it would be, and he thinks that maybe this wasn’t the best plan.

He changes his mind in a split second, swinging himself over so that he can climb the underside of the machine like a monkey bar. He feels like a fucking insect. How was Peter not mortally embarrassed?

He factors in the fact that his hands are getting clammier and his grip is slipping faster than usual. Also, he can taste his lunch at the back of his throat.

“Motherfucker,” Bucky curses when his hand slips, leaving him to hold on only by his metal arm.

“You okay?” you call out, not giving him a second to recover unless he really needed it.

He lets out a grunt, swinging his arm up and catching hold of the antenna, yanking it down and towards the machine itself. He pulls himself up so that he’s straddling the machine again.

One more shot and-

“Very smart, Barnes,” you say dryly, letting go of the handles.

He sends you a sly grin before sliding down the barrel, kicking the large button with his heel right before he jumps off.

The beam shoots out, instantly meeting with metal. The device automatically gives a mechanical groan before powering down, turning off altogether.

“I hate you,” you huff, before noting his paleness. “D’you want some water? An IV maybe?”

He dismisses it with a wave of his hand, inhaling heavily to catch his breath.

He’s tired, more so than he would have been under any normal circumstance. He feels a little dizzy, a little disoriented.

“Don’t worry, your magic powers will be back in a few minutes or so.” You examine the bent antenna, pressing the button and sighing when it stands there lifelessly. “Once Jeff wins, I’ll send the dry cleaning receipt to you. You can pay to get the tear stains out of the kids’ outfits.”

“Your tears or theirs?” He’s relieved about the powers returning, he thinks.

“Both, bitch.” Your eyebrow quirks at his retort. Clearly, he had more energy in him than people realised; his brain seemed to be working fine. He was stronger than you thought. Good for him.

“You’re smart. You’ll figure something out.” He lets out a final exhale before standing up a little straighter.

“Thanks. It’d be better if you asked your billionaire tech genius to send us something, but okay.”

“It’s a middle school science exhibition. Make a potato battery or something.”

You tsk-tsk. “No points for creativity, Mr. Barnes.”

It creeps into his mind without warning. He wonders if he actually wanted the powers back. Wonders what his life could be if he maybe retired, settled down. For the brief time he feels like his pre-war self, he starts to think like his pre-war self.

“I’m not the one who’s about to lose to a baking soda volcano,” he finds time to respond, however.

“Your face is a baking soda volcano.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I will not lose.”

“You’re running out of time. Chop chop.”

But the thought hits him. Who is Bucky without his super soldier serum? If he doesn’t have his powers then he can’t think of what use he is to the Avengers.

Who the hell is Bucky if he can’t provide a service to others? How else does he make up for being himself?

His, what he’s now deemed, afterlife crisis is starting to look more apparent.

He compartmentalises and stores it away in a box. He’ll bring it up with his therapist later.

“I’m going to win and then you’ll be sorry you weren’t a part of it because you didn’t let me steal the sun.”

“If you win, I’ll still be glad I didn’t let you.” He climbs back down the ladder, feeling the ache in his muscles reduce with every passing minute.

True to your word, his powers do return a while later.

And while he’s watching Avatar: The Last Airbender with Peter in the living room two days later, his phone beeps with a text.

It’s a picture of a blue first place ribbon next to a toy car that looks like it’s powered by a potato battery. Beside it is an out of focus middle finger that is aimed at him.

Congratulations, he texts back. Told you potato batteries always win.

Your face always wins, he receives in return. He can’t tell if you’re insulting or flirting with him.

He just shuts his phone off and goes back to watching the show.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

951 notes · View notes

ot3 · 3 years

Text

i watched red vs blue: zero with my dear friends today and i was asked to “post” my “thoughts” on the subject. Please do not click this readmore unless, for some reason, you want to read three thousand words on the subject of red vs blue: zero critical analysis. i highly doubt that’s the reason anyone is following me, but hey.

anyway. here you have it.

Here are my opinions on RVB0 as someone who has quite literally no nostalgia for any older RVB content. I’ve seen seasons 1-13 once and bits and pieces of it more than once here and there, but I only saw it for the first time within the past couple of months. I’ve literally never seen any other RT/AH content. I can name a few people who worked on OG Red vs. Blue but other than Mounty Oum I have NO idea who is responsible for what, really, or what anything else they’ve ever worked on is, or whether or not they’re awful people. I know even less about the people making RVB0 - All I know is that the main writer is named Torrian but I honestly don’t even know if that’s a first name, a last name, or a moniker. All this to say; nothing about my criticism is rooted in any perceived slight against the franchise or branding by the new staff members, because I don’t know or care about any of it. In fact, I’m going to try and avoid any direct comparison between RVB0 and earlier seasons of RVB as a means of critique until the very end, where I’ll look at that relationship specifically.

So here is my opinion of RVB0 as it stands right now:

1. The Writing

Everything about RVB0 feels as if it was written by a first-time writer who hasn’t learned to kill his darlings. The narrative is both simultaneously far too full, leaving very little breathing room for character interaction, and oddly sparse, with a story that lacks any meaningful takeaway, interesting ideas, or genuine emotional connection. It also feels like it’s for a very much younger audience - I don’t mean this as a negative at all. I love tv for kids. I watch more TV for kids than I do for adults, mostly, but I think it’s important to address this because a lot of the time ‘this is for kids’ is used to act like you’re not allowed to critique a narrative thoroughly. It definitely changes the way you critique it, but the critique can still be in good faith. I watched the entirety of RVB0 only after it was finished, in one sitting, and I was giving it my full attention, essentially like it was a movie. I’m going to assume it was much better to watch in chunks, because as it stood, there was literally no time built into the narrative to process the events that had just transpired, or try and predict what events might be coming in the future. When there’s no time to think about the narrative as you’re watching it, the narrative ends up as being something that happens to the audience, not something they engage with. It’s like the difference between taking notes during a lecture or just sitting and listening. If you’re making no attempt to actively process what’s happening, it doesn’t stick in your mind well. I found myself struggling to recall the events and explanations that had immediately transpired because as soon as one thing had happened, another thing was already happening, and it was like a mental juggling act to try and figure out which information was important enough to dwell on in the time we were given to dwell on it.

Which brings me to another point - pacing. Every event in the show, whether a character moment, a plot moment, or a fight scene, felt like it was supposed to land with almost the exact same amount of emotional weight. It all felt like The Most Important Thing that had Yet Happened. And I understand that this is done as an attempt to squeeze as much as possible out of a rather short runtime, but it fundamentally fails. When everything is the most important thing happening, it all fades into static. That’s what most of 0’s narrative was to me: static. It’s only been a few hours since I watched it but I had to go step by step and type out all of the story beats I could remember and run it by my friends who are much more enthusiastic RVB fans than I am to make sure I hadn’t missed or forgotten anything. I hadn’t, apparently, but the fact that my takeaway from the show was pretty accurate and also disappointingly lackluster says a lot. Strangely enough, the most interesting thing the show alluded to - a holo echo, or whatever the term they used was - was one of the things least extrapolated upon in the show’s incredibly bulky exposition. Benefit of the doubt says that’s something they’ll explore in future seasons (are they getting more? Is that planned? I just realized I don’t actually know.)

And bulky it was! I have quite honestly never seen such flagrant disregard for the rule of “show, don’t tell.” There was not a single ounce of subtlety or implication involved in the storytelling of RVB0. Something was either told to you explicitly, or almost entirely absent from the narrative. Essentially zilch in between. We are told the dynamic the characters have with each other, and their personality pros and cons are listed for us conveniently by Carolina. The plot develops in exposition dumps. This is partially due to the series’ short runtime, but is also very much a result of how that runtime was then used by the writers. They sacrificed a massive chunk of their show for the sake of cramming in a ton of fight scenes, and if they wanted to keep all of those fight scenes, it would have been necessary to pare down their story and characters proportionally in comparison, but they didn’t do that either. They wanted to have it both ways and there simply wasn’t enough time for it.

The story itself is… uninteresting. It plays out more like the flimsy premise of a video game quest rather than a piece of media to be meaningfully engaged with. RVB0 is I think something I would be pitched by a guy who thinks the MCU and BNHA are the best storytelling to come out of the past decade. It is nothing but tropes. And I hate having to use this as an insult! I love tropes. The worst thing about RVB0 is that nothing it does is wholly unforgivable in its own right. Hunter x Hunter, a phenomenal shonen, is notoriously filled with pages upon pages of detailed exposition and explanations of things, and I absolutely love it. Leverage, my favorite TV show of all time, is literally nothing but a five man band who has to learn to work as a team while seemingly systematically hitting a checklist of every relevant trope in the book. Pacific Rim is an incredibly straightforward good guys vs giant monsters blockbuster to show off some cool fight scenes such as a big robot cutting an alien in half with a giant sword, and it’s some of the most fun I ever have watching a movie. Something being derivative, clunky, poorly executed in some specific areas, narratively weak, or any single one of these flaws, is perfectly fine assuming it’s done with the intention and care that’s necessary to make the good parts shine more. I’ll forgive literally any crime a piece of media commits as long as it’s interesting and/or enjoyable to consume. RVB0 is not that. I’m not sure what the main point of RVB0 was supposed to be, because it seemingly succeeds at nothing. It has absolutely nothing new or innovative to justify its lack of concern for traditional storytelling conventions. Based solely on the amount of screentime things were given, I’d be inclined to say the narrative existed mostly to give flimsy pretense for the fight scenes, but that’s an entire other can of worms.

2. The Visuals + Fights

I have no qualms with things that are all style and no substance. Sometimes you just want to see pretty colors moving on the screen for a while or watch some cool bad guys and monsters or whatever get punched. RVB0 was not this either. The show fundamentally lacked a coherent aesthetic vision. Much of the show had a rather generic sci-fi feel to it with the biggest standouts to this being the very noir looking cityscape, which my friends and I all immediately joked looked like something from a batman game, or the temple, which my friends and I all immediately joked looked like a world of warcraft raid. They were obviously attempting to get variety in their environment design, which I appreciate, but they did this without having a coherent enough visual language to feel like it was all part of the same world. In general, there was also just a lack of visual clarity or strong shots. The value range in any given scene was poor, the compositions and framing were functional at best, and the character animation was unpleasantly exaggerated. It just doesn’t really look that good beyond fancy rendering techniques.

The fight scenes are their entire own beast. Since ‘FIGHT SCENE’ is the largest single category of scenes in the show, they definitely feel worth looking at with a genuine critical eye. Or, at least, I’d like to, but honestly half the time I found myself almost unable to look at them. The camera is rarely still long enough to really enjoy what you’re watching - tracking the motion of the character AND the camera at such constant breakneck high speeds left little time to appreciate any nuances that might have been present in the choreography or character animation. I tried, believe me, I really did, but the fight scenes leave one with the same sort of dizzy convoluted spectacle as a Michael Bay transformers movie. They also really lacked the impact fight scenes are supposed to have.

It’s hard to have a good, memorable fight scene without it doing one of three things: 1. Showing off innovative or creative fighting styles and choreography 2. Making use of the fight’s setting or environment in an engaging and visually interesting way or 3. Further exploring a character’s personality or actions by the way they fight. It’s also hard to do one of these things on its own without at least touching a bit on the other two. For the most part, I find RVB0’s fight scenes fail to do this. Other than rather surface level insubstantial factors, there was little to visually distinguish any of RVB0’s fight scenes from each other. Not only did I find a lot of them difficult to watch and unappealing, I found them all difficult to watch and unappealing in an almost identical way. They felt incredibly interchangeable and very generic. If you could take a fight scene and change the location it was set and also change which characters were participating and have very little change, it’s probably not a good fight scene.

I think “generic” is really just the defining word of RVB0 and I think that’s also why it falls short in the humor department as well.

3. The Comedy

Funny shit is hard to write and humor is also incredibly subjective but I definitely got almost no laughs out of RVB0. I think a total of three. By far the best joke was Carolina having a cast on top of her armor, which, I must stress, is an incredibly funny gag and I love it. But overall I think the humor fell short because it felt like it was tacked on more than a natural and intentional part of this world and these characters. A lot of the jokes felt like they were just thrown in wherever they’d fit, without any build up to punchlines and with little regard for what sort of joke each character would make. Like, there was some, obviously Raymond’s sense of humor had the most character to it, but the character-oriented humor still felt very weak. When focusing on character-driven humor, there’s a LOT you can establish about characters based on what sort of jokes they choose to make, who they’re picking as the punchlines of these jokes, and who their in-universe audience for the jokes is. In RVB0, the jokes all felt very immersion-breaking and self aware, directed wholly towards the audience rather than occurring as a natural result of interplay between the characters. This is partially due to how lackluster the character writing was overall, and the previously stated tight timing, but also definitely due to a lack of a real understanding about what makes a joke land.

A rule of thumb I personally hold for comedy is that, when push comes to shove, more specific is always going to be more funny. The example I gave when trying to explain this was this:

saying two characters had awkward sex in a movie theater: funny

saying two characters had an awkward handjob in a cinemark: even funnier

saying two characters spent 54 minutes of 11:14's 1:26 runtime trying out some uncomfortably-angled hand stuff in the back of a dilapidated cinemark that lost funding halfway through retrofitting into a dinner theater: the funniest

The more specific a joke is, the more it relies on an in-depth understanding of the characters and world you’re dealing with and the more ‘realistic’ it feels within the context of your media. Especially with this kind of humor. When you’re joking with your friends, you don’t go for stock-humor that could be pulled out of a joke book, you go for the specific. You aim for the weak spots. If a set of jokes could be blindly transplanted into another world, onto another cast of characters, then it’s far too generic to be truly funny or memorable. I don’t think there’s a single joke in RVB0 where the humor of it hinged upon the characters or the setting.

Then there’s the issue of situational comedy and physical comedy. This is really where the humor being ‘tacked on’ shows the most. Once again, part of what makes actually solid comedy land properly is it feeling like a natural result of the world you have established. Real life is absurd and comical situations can be found even in the midst of some pretty grim context, and that’s why black comedy is successful, and why comedy shows are allowed to dip into heavier subject matter from time to time, or why dramas often search for levity in humor. It’s a natural part of being human to find humor in almost any situation. The key thing, though, once again, is finding it in the situation. Many of RVB0’s attempts at humor, once again, feel like they would be the exact same jokes when stripped from their context, and that’s almost never good. A pretty fundamental concept in both storytelling in general but particularly comedy writing is ‘setup and payoff’. No joke in RVB0 is a reward for a seemingly innocuous event in an earlier scene or for an overlooked piece of environmental design. The jokes pop in when there’s time for them in between all the exposition and fighting, and are gone as soon as they’re done. There’s no long term, underlying comedic throughline to give any sense of coherence or intent to the sense of humor the show is trying to establish. Every joke is an isolated one-off quip or one-liner, and it fails to engage the audience in a meaningful way.

All together, each individual component of RVB0 feels like it was conjured up independently, without any concern to how it interacted with the larger product they were creating. And I think this is really where it all falls apart. RVB0 feels criminally generic in a way reminiscent of mass-market media which at least has the luxury of attributing these flaws, this complete and total watering down of anything unique, to heavy oversight and large teams with competing visions. But I don’t think that’s the case for RVB0. I don’t know much about what the pipeline is like for this show, but I feel like the fundamental problem it suffers from is a lack of heart.

In comparison to Red vs. Blue

Let's face it. This is a terrible successor to Red vs. Blue. I wouldn’t care if NONE of the old characters were in it - that’s not my problem. I haven’t seen past season 13 because from what I heard the show already jumped the shark a bit and then some. That’s not what makes it a poor follow up. What makes it a bad successor is that it fundamentally lacks any of the aspects of the OG RVB that made it unique or appealing at all. I find myself wondering what Torrian is trying to say with RVB0 and quite literally the only answer I find myself falling back onto is that he isn’t trying to say anything at all. Regardless of what you feel about the original RVB, it undeniably had things to say. The opening “why are we here” speech does an excellent job at establishing that this is a show intended to poke fun at the misery of bureaucracy and subservience to nonsensical systems, not just in the context of military life, but in a very broad-strokes way almost any middle-class worker can relate to. At the end of the day, fiction is at its best when it resonates with some aspect of its audience’s life. I know instantly which parts of the original Red vs Blue I’m supposed to relate to. I can’t say anything even close to that about 0.

RVB is an absurdist parody that heavily satirizes aspects of the military and life as a low-on-the-food-chain worker in general that almost it’s entire target audience will be familiar with. The most significant draw of the show to me was how the dialogue felt like listening to my friends bicker with each other in our group chats. It required no effort for me to connect with and although the narrative never outright looked to the camera and explained ‘we are critiquing the military’s stupid red tape and self-fullfilling eternal conflict’ they didn’t need to, because the writing trusted itself and its audience enough to believe this could be conveyed. It is, in a way, the complete antithesis to the badass superhero macho military man protagonist that we all know so well. RVB was saying something, and it was saying it in a rather novel format.

Nothing about RVB0 is novel. Nothing about RVB0 says anything. Nothing about it compels me to relate to any of these characters or their situations. RVB0 doesn’t feel like absurdism, or satire. RVB0 feels like it is, completely uncritically, the exact media that RVB itself was riffing off of. Both RVB0 and RVB when you watch them give you the feeling that what you’re seeing here is kids on a playground larping with toy soldiers. It’s all ridiculous and over the top cliche stupid garbage where each side is trying to one-up the other. The critical difference is, in RVB, we’re supposed to look at this and laugh at how ridiculous this is. In RVB0 we’re supposed to unironically think this is all pretty badass.

The PFL arc of the original RVB existed to show us that setting up an elite team of supersoldiers with special powers was something done in bad faith, with poor outcomes, that left everyone involved either cruel, damaged, or dead. It was a bad thing. And what we’re seeing in RVB0 is the same premise, except, this time it’s good. We’re supposed to root for this format. RVB0 feels much more like a demo reel, cutscenes from a video game that doesn’t exist, or a shonen anime fanboy’s journal scribbling than it feels like a piece of media with any objective value in any area. In every area that RVB was anti-establishment, RVB0 is pure undiluted establishment through and through.

#long post #really long post guys. look out !#rvb

203 notes · View notes

thedistantdusk · 3 years

Text

Arcadia, Chapter 2

Here we gooooo :) Thanks again to @secretkeeper13, @accio-broom, @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey, @remedialpotions, @not-steve42, @jamezbot, @gryffindorhealer, and the majority of the HG server for their help <3

If you’ve just arriving, here is Chapter 1. :)

_____________________

D A Y + T W O

He’s driving her mad. Absolutely fucking mad.

Ginny grips the hose in an attempt to water the rose bush outside their window, but her eyes are unfocused, unseeing.

This entire thing was such a terrible idea.

She should’ve insisted on another Auror as backup on her first solo mission. Someone less attractive. Someone she hadn’t shagged up one side of the Burrow and down the next.

But the request was difficult to grant in the first place. It took Ginny a full year of documentation to prove this was a necessary use of resources. Attica (and Unspeakables in general) don’t tend to be well-liked by the older Aurors, which made Harry the best fit. The only fit. Everyone— from Kingsley to Attica to even Hermione— agreed. And even aside from the sheer convenience of it all, Ginny’s years of experience with the Thought Chamber and Harry’s ability to sniff out trouble like a niffler after gold made them a brilliant combination to tackle… this.

It’s just a pity, then, that she still finds him so bloody attractive. Even though he’s become a bit of a brooding, sarcastic mess.

Ginny blinks down at the bright pink petals, their leathery flesh beaded with water droplets. Maybe the problem’s that she hasn’t spent much time around him since then. He still comes around for Sunday roast, of course, when his work schedule permits. In spite of what Mum went through, she’d never allow Harry to feel unwelcome. It’s his house as much as theirs— and yes, Ginny still lives at home. It’s the least she can do to maintain a degree of normalcy, even though everything irrevocably changed when It happened.

Ginny’s hands begin to shake around the hose; her brain starts to spiral. The Burrow is less welcoming now. Their hugs are more forced. Their family more distant. And although everyone functions on a basic human level, Ginny knows in her gut that the remaining Weasley siblings — Harry most certainly included — are still going through the motions to cope.

And maybe it’s because she really hadn’t had a libido in nearly five years, but fuck, it hasn’t taken much to come rushing back. Her thighs press together as her head fills with another series of intrusive thoughts instead. But she can’t suppress the memory of Harry emerging from the shower this morning, his top-half dripping, his bottom-half toweled. Not that it matters much, not when she knows every fucking inch of—

“I think that bush is good now!”

Ginny jumps, a string of swears springing to her lips. “I— fuck.” She turns to the unexpected voice. “Sorry! Let me—”

But Oliver from last night merely leans over to turn off the hose. “You’ll quickly learn that sort of language isn’t great for Arcadia, Jen,” he intones, finger wagging.

Years of training allow Ginny to blush in chagrin. To shove aside the telling-off she’d have provided a long, long time ago. “Sorry.” She winces. “It’s just a habit, leftover from—”

“—London, right,” he finishes, his eyes never leaving hers. “Anyway. Listen. Sharon and I would be honored if you joined us for dinner tonight.”

“Did I hear something about dinner?” Harry strolls out of the house, the door shutting behind him with a satisfying thump. “Goodie! As my wife knows, dinner is my favorite word.” He rests his chin on her head, sliding his thumbs through the belt loops of her jeans. Ginny’s heart clenches in familiarity even as her face remains placid. They agreed to all of these terms beforehand… to feign public affection. To seem utterly smitten. It’s just funny how they’ve both relied on old habits.

Ginny reckons that makes sense, though. After all, it worked for them once.

She turns towards Harry with a pout. “But Pookie Pie, I thought your favorite word was snuggles! We certainly did enough of that last night.”

Harry’s chuckle rings out with false bravado as he tucks her hair behind her ears. “We did something, all right. Not sure if snuggling is the right word for it. What do you think, Oliver?” Harry whips around to face him. “What’s your favorite word for… marital relations?” His eyebrows waggle suggestively above his glasses; Ginny stomps on his foot to keep herself from laughing.

Oliver, however, does not find them delightful. “I think this is for you. From Mike.” He points to a box that he apparently rested on the ground while Ginny was drowning the roses.

Harry bends over to pick it up. This does nothing to distract her.

“Couldn’t Mike erm…” Ginny shakes her head to clear it. “Sorry. Couldn’t he bring it over himself? He lives just—”

“Out of town on business, I’m afraid.” Oliver’s voice turns cold as he peers at Ginny again. “He won’t be back for weeks. Months, maybe.”

Ginny makes a noise of concern and rests a fist on her hip. “Huh! That’s funny. What out-of-town business could a primary school teacher possibly have?”

Oliver’s eyes narrow, but his grin remains. “Teacher business, I guess.”

“When can we speak to someone about the trampoline?” Harry blurts, slicing the tension. “I’m missing my exercise, Ollie. It’s how I stay fit. You won’t like me when I’m not exercising!”

With that, Oliver’s grin finally fades. “Well, you can ask Mr. Gogolak, but I don’t think anything will come of it. He’s available tonight from 5 o’clock to 6:13, on the dot. He lives just up there, on the corner. Anyway, I’ll be off.” He gives a parting wave and turns to walk up the drive, but Harry isn’t done.

“Not sure how we’ll manage to make that and dinner, though,” he calls. “Don’t we have to be indoors by six?”

But it seems Oliver is absolutely intent on being elsewhere, because he opts to walk backwards and yell from the street. “Of course not!” he shouts. “Six is only the move-in deadline.” Then he barks out a cruel laugh, throwing his hands in the air. “Any idiot knows that dinner starts at 7!” With that, he sends them a final glare before lumbering away, his brown loafers crunching on the pavement.

Harry and Ginny snort in unison; if Oliver hears them, he doesn’t engage.

“See you later!” Ginny confirms, ensuring it’s loud enough for him to hear. Then she drops her voice to a stage-whisper and cups her hand into a regal wave. “Hope Sharon removes that stick from your arse before dinner tonight, you miserable sack of shit. Suck my dick!”

Harry laughs. “As much as I appreciate the support, Muffin Cakes, that’s one insult that just doesn’t work when you say it.”

And Ginny doesn’t know what comes over her next… she really, really doesn’t.

Because in the blink of an eye, she’s pushed Harry against the front door with a petulant pout. The pulsing between her legs returns with humiliating swiftness; it’s a blessing, really, that Harry’s dreadful at flirting and picking up on cues. They’re in public, but this is the furthest thing from acting.

Nonetheless, Harry’s Adam’s apple bobs as her arms drape around his neck. She watches, rapt, as his eyes darken. Apart from that one slip-up last night, he’s excelled at his job… and as she leans into his hard chest, she realizes how she really feels: she's jealous. Dreadfully jealous.

How dare he be better at this? What in hell gave him the right to soak her knickers with a single look? She’s had years of professional training and a lifetime of practice, but it comes naturally to him— this pretending shit.

And for fuck’s sake… he’s a lot better at it.

“But it’s been ages since you’ve been in my knickers, Baby Bear,” she croons, batting her eyelashes. “How would you know?”

She intends it playfully. A gentle way to put him in his place. But to her surprise, something stinging and sober crosses Harry’s face.

The moment’s over… absolutely over.

In a flash, he pushes her away and gestures at the door. After you. She nods, still turned on but now confused. The whole thing reminds her of ancient history, where she waited for him after each quidditch practice and thought, wished, prayed that he’d touch her… all while hoping to God he wouldn’t.

It takes until they’re inside for her to figure out why he’s upset.

He locks the door behind them with a wave of his wand— and when he whips around, his face is twisted into such a brooding scowl that it pins her on the spot. Shit.

“It goes without saying,” Harry mutters, voice dangerously low, “that there are some things a bloke just doesn’t forget.” He lets out a deep breath, his eyelashes fluttering. “Ok?”

Oh.

Ginny’s cheeks flush as it all comes rushing back. She’s honestly forgotten how… attached he was to that ability. How much he prided himself on being able to please her. How he worshipped her body with such respectful, hushed reverence that it still features in her fantasies.

It seems there’s a limit to his acting skills, after all. A line that he just won’t cross. She should be chuffed that she got what she wanted. Instead, her stomach throbs with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean—”

“Forget it.” He waves his hand over his shoulder and trudges upstairs, leaving her in hollow silence.

Right.

_________________________________

Mr. Gogolak crosses his left leg over his right and swirls his brandy tumbler. Between the ruddy patches on his cheeks and the way his words slip over each other, it’s not his first of the evening. Harry’s reminded of Slughorn. In the worst possible way.

“Anyway.” Gogolak waves at the massive tabbed binder to his left. “As the rules clearly stipulate, a trampoline would lead to other things. Unsavory things.” He raises his eyebrows and takes a sip.

Harry’s eyes flit around the room, trying to take it all in. The decor is… nice, he supposes, if you want every guest to be aware — beyond a shadow of a doubt— that You’ve Been Abroad, thanks. Multi-colored felt flower vases dot the floating shelves above Gogolak’s head, each a pop of color in a room that’s otherwise painfully beige. Scrolls hand-painted with renditions of Buddha and Lokta hang on the far wall. And above them… Harry cocks his head, puzzled, and tries to place where he’s seen that particular mask before.

“Of course,” Ginny agrees with a fervent nod. “We understand the need for decorum and cooperation, don’t we, Hen?”

“Where‘s that mask from?” Harry blurts, nudging his chin up.

Ginny rubs her temples in frustration, but if anything, Gogolak seems flattered.

“Oh! That.” His face flushes with pride as he takes another drink. “That’s a wrathful Mahakala mask. From Tibet! I bought it cheap off a street orphan during my last trip. Can’t say he had much need for it, what with being starving and living in the street.” His laugh booms over the sitting room.

Harry tries to focus. He’s there for Ginny. He’s there for Ginny. He’s only backup. But ah, bugger, after the other shit today it’s too much, and—

“Ha!” Harry returns his humorless laugh. “Isn’t poverty hilarious, Jen?”

There’s an anxious pause.

Ginny ends it with a fake giggle of her own. “As you can see, Mr. Gogolak, my husband is growing a bit testy without his exercise!” She nudges Harry in the ribs— hard enough to make her point, but not hard enough to hurt. “So if we could only have the trampoline, then—”

“‘Fraid not,” Gogolak slurs, peering down at his brandy again. “See, there’s a reason Arcadia has been named Best Village for so long: People simply love to live here!”

“Oh?” Ginny returns her teacup to the table. “Everyone loves to live here?” She rests her elbows on her knees, her voice dropping to a discreet whisper. “What about the people who’ve gone missing, then?”

At first, Gogolak is unperturbed. Then his smile deepens, his eyes traveling from Ginny’s face down to her chest. For fuck’s sake. This arsehole can’t be serious! Harry’s gut swirls with something visceral and protective. He wraps his arm around her shoulders as his hand inches for the wand in his back pocket. Ginny catches his hand on the way and interlaces their fingers with an almost imperceptible, “Shh.”

“Well, well, well,” Gogolak drawls, leaning back to full-on leer at her. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? Should’ve known. You’re a ginger, after all.”

Wrong answer.

“Not sure what the color of her hair has to do with her question,” Harry says stiffly. It’s the politest thing he can manage. Ginny squeezes his thigh.

Gogolak faces Harry instead, his face a mask of delighted malice. “Your wife is very beautiful, Mr. Petri,” he drawls. “You must forgive an old man for noticing.”

“Pee-tri,” Harry grouses.

Is it possible to accidentally Avada Kedavra someone with your eyes? Surely he’d be forgiven for that, yeah? He counts five deep breaths, his face burning, as he waits for Ginny to take the lead.

He’s still a bit taken aback at how quickly things changed. He thought he was irritated with her earlier, but now he realizes that frustrated is a better word. They haven’t been together in ages, but she has to know what she still does to him. It wasn’t like she’d grown less beautiful. And while he’s not proud of how things ended, he’s spent the last five years taking pride in knowing her. In being her first, as primitive and knuckle-dragging as that sounds. Because no matter how bad things were, he was always able to make her…

Yeah.

He bites the inside of his cheek. Had he deluded himself into thinking it was as good for her as it was for him?

Ginny clears her throat again. “But what of the people?” she prompts. “The missing people? Like Eric Highland, who lived in our house until last August, when—”

“Oh, him!” Gogolak booms out another uncomfortable laugh and drains the rest of his tumbler. “Well, don’t tell anyone I told you this, but—” He makes a slitting motion across his throat and pours himself another drink. “Committed suicide. Quite a mess.”

Then Gogolak stills, his eyes widening; for the first time this evening, he looks vaguely embarrassed. “Oh, but not in your home, of course!” He waves his hand dismissively. “We’d never, you know, let someone move in after that. Would affect property values, you see.”

Harry’s heart pounds in his ears as Ginny clenches his hand, for once. He wonders if he’s ever given less of a shit about property values.

Another span of uncomfortable silence stretches between them… but this one grows more furious and heated with every second. The version of her he knew before would have Bat Bogeyed this wanker before she took a breath. But everything’s different now.

“That’s… not the preferred term,” Ginny finally manages, her voice strained. Harry grips her hand more tightly; that odd rush of pride returns. He knew she’d say something. There’s not a single version of her that would let that go.

Gogolak’s brow furrows. “What do you—”

“—Took his life,” Ginny interjects, her voice ringing with the righteousness Harry only dimly recognizes from the woman he knew before. “Or died by suicide. Or had terminal depression.”

He holds her hand even tighter as she draws a deep breath, shifting in her seat. Get him, Gin. Get the bastard. Whatever you need, I’m there.

“Committed is a word that… implies a crime,” Ginny finishes. But her words sound careful now. “It just adds to the stigma that people with mental illness are problematic. Words mean things. So.”

Gogolak presses his lips into a thin line. “Forget I brought it up.”

“I will,” Ginny says coolly.

Ginny hadn’t thought much could be worse than the meeting with Mr. Gogolak. Unfortunately, dinner with Sharon and Oliver is proving her wrong.

“This is free-range chicken, of course,” Oliver drawls, gesturing towards their plates. “Got them at the organic market. Anything for health!”

They’d already been treated to iceberg lettuce salads and glasses of generic Merlot. Perhaps she should have anticipated chicken breast and rice as the thrilling main course.

Harry cuts his chicken breast with a sigh. “That’s a pity, Oliver. We all know that caged chickens are tastier!”

Ginny muffles a snort with a cough and reaches for her glass of wine.

Sharon pauses, fork mid-way to her mouth, to peer at Harry, bleary-eyed and confused. Oh, for fuck’s sake; what was it about suburbia that removed one’s ability to recognize a joke?

Oliver changes the subject before Ginny gets the chance. “Where did you two meet, anyway?” he grunts. “And how long have you been married?”

Ginny smiles, preparing the canned response they practiced for months. They met in uni through mutual friends. They both work in computers, and last year, they finally realized it was time to leave the big city.

Harry shatters all of that with three words.

“Magic camp, actually!” he announces, throwing an arm around Ginny’s shoulders.

Fuck. She analyzes her chicken with newfound intensity and tries to imagine something sad.

“Huh,” Oliver says flatly. “Wouldn’t have taken either of you for magicians.”

Sharon has the grace to act embarrassed. “Now now, love,” she chides, reaching for the breadbasket, “I’m sure people have loads of hobbies that aren’t always obvious to everyone!”

“Exactly!” Harry grins and reaches for a piece of baguette. “Besides, it’s mostly Jenny who’s mad for it. Card tricks, pulling bunnies from hats, sawing women in half. Even—” he pauses for a dramatic gasp— “magic wands! You name it, she loves it.”

“Well!” Sharon raises her eyebrows; it’s clear she’s feigning being impressed. “If I’m ever in need of disappearing something, I’ll know who to call!”

Aha! The perfect opening!

“Speaking of disappearing,” Ginny starts, as casually as possible, “we checked with Saint Julian’s Primary. It’s not true Mike left on business.”

Sharon’s smile freezes and melts with such speed that Ginny feels a pang of sympathy. Poor Sharon. She’s really just doing her best to be a pleasant hostess. It’s Oliver who has the clear ulterior motive.

The man in question takes another sip of wine, unfazed. “And why did you have interest in contacting a primary school in the first place? Bit weird for a grown adult, that.”

Harry releases another fake chuckle. “Oh, Oliver, you’re such a prankster!” He bites off some bread. “Surely you’re not turning the tables on my wife and accusing her of being the weird one. After all, all she did was ask about the whereabouts of a lovely member of our community. Right?”

He gives Oliver such an exaggerated wink that even Ginny almost believes him. “And besides…” Harry’s hand wraps around her shoulder again. “Do you reckon we should tell them?” he murmurs, voice laden with his expectation.

Ginny rolls her eyes, fully intent on a thin-lipped, silent warning about making shit up… but Harry’s earnest expression stops her. His green eyes blink behind his glasses, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned. Before she knows what’s happening, one of his warm hands cups her chin while the other comes to rest on her stomach.

Oh. She sucks in a breath, her heart pounding— because for a moment, she forgets where she is. She forgets they’re faking. She forgets they split up and chose separate paths, that they weren’t looking through a portal of what could have been, should have been, before their lives turned to shit.

“Not yet, of course,” Harry murmurs, appearing for all the world like he’s drinking her in as his fingers tap at her stomach. “But soon. We hope.”

And with that, he abruptly clears his throat and turns back to the Skinners. “Anyway, that’s why we called Saint Julian’s,” Harry adds, nonchalantly as you please. “Always good to be prepared, eh?”

“Oh, how exciting!” Sharon cries, clasping her hands together. “And yes, I agree— preparedness is key.”

“Knew you’d be happy for us,” Harry says with another wink. “Quite an exciting time, I’m sure you understand.”

It’s then that Ginny finds her voice. “So. Erm,” she starts, trying to focus. “They hadn’t heard from him. Mike. The school, I mean.” She takes another sip of wine to get her bearings back. “Any idea where he could’ve gone? You understand why we’re a bit worried, especially if we’re planning to—”

“No,” Oliver snaps, nostrils flaring. Sharon’s fork clatters to her plate; if swearing were allowed in this house, Ginny’s confident she would’ve let one slip. “I don’t understand, and you’ll find that snooping isn’t a past-time I appreciate,” Oliver finishes, drawing himself up taller to puff out his chest.

Ginny lets out an incredulous chuckle. “But Oliver… this is a matter of safety. We’re worried about our neighbor.”

“Yeah, Ollie-O!” Harry clucks his tongue, relaxing further into his chair. “Perhaps Arcadia isn’t as perfect as we were led to believe.”

Oliver just fixes them both with a stern glare. “Nope,” he says flatly. The p pops. “You’re wrong. Per usual.”

For six seconds, the four of them sit in painful, frigid silence. Ginny feels Harry’s hand reach behind him… inching closer to his wand...

“Jenny!” Sharon finally chirps, her voice a falsetto. Oh, thank fuck. “I need to walk the dog. Would you join me?”

___________________________

Captain Bone’s toenails tick on the pavement as Sharon holds his lead. Ginny peers at him with unexpected affection as he prances beneath the street lights. Dogs are too high-maintenance for her to even consider, but something about this one is undeniably appealing. As if he hears her, Captain Bone turns to Ginny with a slobbery grin.

Sharon laughs. “He likes you. He’s a sucker for a pretty girl.”

Ginny scratches beneath the thick leather collar with Captain Bone emblazoned on a bronze plate. He throws his head back for more access. Poor Captain Bone. The whole collar looked horribly uncomfortable. “I like him too,” Ginny agrees as he flounces away. “I’m afraid work keeps me too busy for a dog, though.”

Sharon waves this away. “Nah. I’ve seen the way Henry stares at you.” She flashes a knowing smile as they continue strolling, side-by-side. “I reckon if you really wanted a dog, he’d oblige.”

Captain Bone halts, mid-step, and picks up his leg. Sharon removes a waste bag from her pocket.

“You’re probably right,” Ginny mutters. She’s not sure why that feels like admitting to a scandal.

Sharon sighs. “The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. Like he’s holding the whole world in his hands.” Her voice grows wistful, distant; Ginny has a feeling she’s not actually talking about Harry at all.

“Well, we are newlyweds.” Ginny mashes her kitten heel — a clothing acquisition specific to this assignment — into the pavement. “I’m erm. Sure that’ll change.”

But Sharon just stares at Captain Bone as he does his business. “Maybe,” she says softly. “But I don’t reckon Oliver ever looked at me quite like that.”

Ginny blinks at Sharon beneath the streetlight, the fluorescent throwing her features into sharp relief. Wrinkles fold the corners of her eyes. Bits of gray sprout at her scalp beneath the warm chestnut color. Her smile may have been natural once, but now it’s forced. Uneasy. Ginny grimaces. This poor woman… imagine thinking you couldn’t do better than a wanker like Oliver.

“Shit!” Sharon swears, ripping Ginny from her reverie— and soon, she sees why. Captain Bone charges down the street, his lead scraping the ground like a limp noodle. “I wasn’t holding him tightly enough,” she whispers, horrified. “I’ll have to—”

“No,” Ginny says, taking off her heels and thrusting them into Sharon’s arms. “Let me!” And with that, she’s off, bare feet slapping the pavement.

“Don’t blame you for trying to get away,” Ginny mutters, rounding a corner. “The place is bloody creepy. But next time, Captain Bone, could you do this in broad daylight? Nighttime ‘round here is—”

Wait.

Ginny stops, dead in her tracks. A weird sensation creeps over her, crawling against her skin. All the street noise vanishes. Crickets stop chirping; wind stops whistling. She looks around, panic rising in her throat, but nothing looks amiss. She can’t shake it, though… their eerie, numb ringing that fills her head, and—

Like a thunderclap, it all comes back. The faint wind returns. Bugs resume their buzzing. The electric lamppost makes a dull crackling just above her.

Weird. Very fucking weird.

Luckily, Ginny specializes in weird; in the aftermath of whatever the hell that was, she’s more confused than frightened. She takes a few more shaky steps, making every observation she can (temperature, cloud pattern, weather conditions, insect movement)... and that’s when she spies something glinting to her left. Something golden and stuffed in a storm drain.

No. Ginny’s heart pounds as she rushes over, sinking to her knees. It can’t be…

But the closer she gets, the clearer it is: Mike’s chain necklace… the medallion of Saint Julian. Right beside Captain Bone’s pretentious leather collar. For the first time, fear floods her stomach. She surreptitiously reaches for the wand tucked into her waistband. “Accio necklace.” It soars through the gate and into her hand just as Sharon’s footsteps round the corner.

Ginny shoves the necklace into her bra— and it’s only then she realizes that there must’ve been something strange and slimy hanging from it, because whatever the fuck that was is now pressed to her right nipple.

Blech. It takes every bit of her willpower not to shudder and gag. She manages to school her features into innocent concern as Sharon finally catches up.

“Well,” pants Sharon, hands on her thighs, “did you find him?”

“No,” Ginny laments, genuinely upset. She gestures towards the storm drain. “But for some reason, his collar’s down there.”

Even beneath the streetlamps, Sharon’s face turns white.

______________________________

Harry’s back muscles contract in agony as he hunches over the laptop. This whole assignment is a painful reminder that he’s not as young as he used to be. How many hours did he spend snoozing on the lawn at Hogwarts without so much as an ache? But a single bloody night on these shit couches, and he’s popping Paracetamol like sweets. He shifts in place; must be time for another dose.

“Hear anything?” Ginny emerges from the walk-in closet in a towel turban and fluffy white dressing gown, two evidence bags in her hands.

Harry glares at the laptop screen and tries very hard not to remember that one of those bags contains a lacy black bra— one he definitely hasn’t seen before. For the past hour, he’s been in an envious haze of wondering if she bought it for the mission or bought it to wear for someone else.

Either way, it consoles him that deep down, she’s still Ginny; she took this necklace and shoved it into her bra without letting on that something vile and gross was pressed to her ti—

He shakes his head to clear it, but that hurts his neck. For once, though, he embraces the pain. Anything to shift his focus.

“From the props department? No.” Harry sighs and retrieves the medicine bottle from his luggage. “I swear, I have no idea who they got to make the moving boxes and pick the couches, but I’m fairly sure Victoire could do better.”

Ginny scoffs at this. “Well, of course Vic could do better. She’s the most perfect, adorable human alive,” she says fondly, tossing the evidence bags in the transporter box.

It’s plain cardboard, easily disguised as a standard moving box. But with three taps of her wand, the bags evaporate, presumably materializing in a Ministry lab somewhere. Not that Harry cares about the specifics. This is a key example of the sort of detail that’s less and less intriguing the longer he holds this job.

“But I was actually asking if you’d heard anything about Mike and — hey, what are you doing?”

“Paracetamol,” Harry mutters, popping open the bottle. “I’m getting old, Ginny,” he warns, rising to his feet with an exaggerated grimace. “Dunno why you thought it would be a good idea to go on a mission with an old man.”

She rolls her eyes and walks into the bathroom. “You don’t need to be so bloody noble. Please join me on the bed. We could make it longer, even, if you—”

He clears his throat to cut her off. That would be a terrible idea on all counts. Silence on the other side of the door tells him that Ginny either realizes this or chooses not to press the issue. Good...

“Erm. There’s no hits on Mike,” Harry calls into the bathroom. “I reckon he’s dead, Ginny. Credit cards and car haven’t been touched.”

The tap turned on behind the door. “Can’t say I’m shocked,” Ginny admits, voice muffled, “but— holy hell, who taught you how to squeeze toothpaste?”

Harry smirks and returns to the computer. “Myself, probably.”

Ginny lets out another irritated groan. “And the toilet seat’s up!” She strides out of the bathroom. “Strike two!”

Harry hears the distinctive sound of clothing hitting the floor beside her bed but wills himself not to turn around, not to turn around, not to—

“Well.” Ginny sucks her teeth as the bedding rustles. “I suppose I should take all of that as a good sign, really. You clearly don’t have girls in and out of your flat.”

Oh?

Harry’s heart thunders in his ears, his stomach flipping in hope. She takes that as a good sign? Really? He glimpses over his shoulder before remembering he’s not supposed to look.

And just as quickly, he regrets it.

Because Ginny’s sprawled back against the bed, her face so white that she nearly blends into the linens, but his eyes aren’t too focused on her face. They’re drawn down, down, down… down to her creamy chest, dotted with chocolate freckles. Down to her breasts, which he definitely still knows every inch of, even as they rest beneath a black lace vest he hasn’t seen before. Down to the shorts that hug her hips and graze the tips of her thighs… the same thighs he spread open and dipped his head between as she tugged on his hair, her cries breathy and panting in the garden’s evening mist.

Ah, fuck. That one does it. Harry adjusts his basketball shorts as discreetly as possible, but another glimpse at her face tells him he didn’t need to worry.

“I can’t believe I said that,” she whispers, eyes filled with horror.

Harry clears his throat. He honestly forgot she said anything. Now he just feels guilty for eyeing her up while she spiraled.

“I’m so… fuck. This is so unprofessional.” She sinks her head into her hands. “Please, Harry, forget that I said anything. I’m so sorry. That was—”

“It’s forgotten,” he rumbles, his voice deeper than he realized. “Legitimately. I’ve already forgotten it.”

She shoots him a weak smile through the slits of her hands. “I know you haven’t. But thanks for saying it.”

Harry offers his best expression of bafflement as he picks up a pillow from the end of her bed. “Haven’t a clue what you mean, Unspeakable GW. See you at 0-700 hours.” He stops halfway out the door and gives her a military salute. “Unless, of course, you decide to start a bit later,” he adds seriously, “in which case I’ll see you… erm. 0-whenever-the-hell-you-wake-up-hours.”

Ginny giggles, settling against the pillows again.

“Thanks,” she says after a moment, peering at her cuticles. “For… everything. And especially for forgetting—” She makes a vague hand gesture as her cheeks flush the most fascinating shade of pink.

Harry stills, one hand on the doorknob.

He wants to make her feel better… but really, it’s more than that. He wants to tell her that his heart still jumps into his throat when he hears about an Unspeakable being injured on the job. He wants to admit that he avoids Sundays at the Burrow not because he stopped caring, but because he cares too much. He wants to confess, in a rush of passion, that she wasn’t just his first: she’s his only. That he reckons she’ll always be his only. That exchanging work for Them was the stupidest thing he ever agreed to, regardless of the circumstances.

Oh, and of course, that he still fucking loves her. Harry rubs his forehead, frustration gnawing at his stomach. Why in hell did he admit that to himself? You never admit that to yourself. What an idiot.

Still, they have a mission… a moronic, suburban mission filled with every literal and metaphorical breed of Karen imaginable. But as worthless as Harry considers this whole assignment, her neck is on the line if they come up empty-handed. And she values her assignment— and her neck, he reckons— quite a bit.

So he makes the choice to both reassure her. And to be foolishly honest.

“Erm… for what it’s worth?” Harry croaks, staring down the dark corridor to avoid meeting her eyes. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted in my bedroom, anyway.”

Before she can reply, he closes the door and walks away. His cheeks burn as he pads downstairs, but Harry knows it’s best to leave it, really. To save them both the awkwardness.

Even if it means sleeping on this shit couch forever.

#harry/ginny fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #x-files #canon compliant #au

44 notes · View notes

ssaalexblake · 3 years

Text

I always kind of thought it was sort of funny that the biggest cold shoulders 13 gave out in s11 were to the dead beat dads. Not funny funny, but interesting, because s11 gives us two fathers who have abandoned their children, not out of malicious intent or lack of caring for them, but because they are in pain and can’t face it down to be their for their kids (ryan’s dad, Hanne’s dad). There are fathers who don’t care, but this is not what the show wanted us to see. They wanted us to see ones who care but failed anyway.

13 isn’t either of their biggest fans. She’s immediately on both of their cases. She isn’t open to being immediately forgiving of their mistakes. Then, of course, S12 happened and with hindsight I can see what lesson they’re teaching her in including this because it is 13′s turn to not do things stemming from her own trauma and having to deal with the consequences of that all.

It’s a harsh lesson, it ends in her walking off on a suicide mission, seemingly. But then, it also doesn’t end in that. She lives and is imprisoned and tries to go back for the fam when she escapes but something goes wrong (namely, the tardis doesn’t listen to her pilot) and to add insult to injury, now 13 has like... Also abandoned them as a result of not dealing with her own trauma and grief.

I know i kind of jokingly say 13 is Ryan’s dad a lot, but I do mean it. That’s the narrative role she is fulfilling here. Cruelly the narrative has her leave him as well. It’s not on purpose, she didn’t want to, but it still happened. I remember when the first NY special aired and people were irritated with the emphasis on Ryan and his dad, but the whole plot served to display Ryan’s development from that episode to his last and also 13 learning not to judge so harshly.

There’s a big emphasis in this era on how we respond to grief and trauma... On one hand you have Graham who displays healthy coping mechanisms and emotional intelligence and the narrative rewards him for these qualities by them never backfiring on him... On the other hand you have the ones who Don’t respond well and the problems that stem from that. 13 runs away from her grief and trauma by ignoring it (both in s11 and 12), this screws up her interpersonal relationships And does some pretty catastrophic things to the universe in general too.

They had her judge in s11 and then did it to her in s12... You can judge all you want but you might act the same way one day. People are responsible for their actions in grief and trauma, but that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve compassion for the pain that caused them.

I feel like 13 would be a lot less openly antagonistic to Aaron if she met him for the first time now.

#dw shit #sometimes i find scraps of meta ideas in my drafts that i must have left there during the day #i can only write this stuff at night when i'm falling asleep #which is wild but truuuu #anyway a12 pulled the rug from under her feet #and i actually expect yaz to face negative consequences for her coping mechanisms next season tbh #the narrative rewards those willing to submit to the mortifying ideal of being known #and yaz is even worse than 13 on that score #dw meta

31 notes · View notes

nothorses · 3 years

Note

i've been thinking about this for a few days and trying to finally kind of put this into words. sorry if this turns out to be really long. ^^;

growing up queer in romania (which is..not the most accepting place, to put it mildly), english speaking online spaces were where i first found some kind of acceptance. i've been active on the internet since i was around 12 or 13, aka when i first started questioning, and the more i found out about myself, the more i distanced myself from my country and culture out of fear and shame, to the point where i almost exclusively think in english and have even had a few dreams partially or exclusively in english. i've only now started to realise how deep this disconnect actually goes and i'm kinda having an existential crisis over not feeling like i belong anywhere.

being a queer person here is no walk in the park. religion is a huge part of most romanian people's lives (i'm pretty sure around 90% of romanian citizens are orthodox christians), so the vast, vast majority of the population is agressively conservative. when it comes to social justice causes progress is very stagnant, younger generations which are still raised by conservative parents refuse change and i've seen and gotten much more homophobia and transphobia from people close to my age (late teens/early 20s) than from others. i know of next to no trans people who were able to live normal, happy lives here. and sadly i think this will only get worse seeing the measures that neighbouring countries like hungary and poland are taking.

even before i realised i was trans, i couldn't relate to cis people and have always felt somewhat disconnected from my country. then, as i finally felt like i found a place for myself in (mostly american-centric) english speaking queer spaces, the disconnect only worsened. i felt like a foreigner in the country where i was born and where i still live. however there is only so much that i can learn about other places in the world without actually living there, and in a lot of cases a lot of stuff that applies there doesn't apply here at all. i have no language to express myself authentically, words like "gay", "lesbian", "trans" etc have been transformed into insults. there are barely any lgbt resources here, and even those are vastly targeted towards cis people. but i can't turn to a completley foreign community from mine for help either because they are mostly or almost exclusively by and for americans.

all of this leaves me completley confused. i plan on emigrating later in my life, but no matter what i will do the country and culture that i was born in will still be a part of me, no matter what i do to reject it. i don't know whether to push it away even further or embrace it. it's kind of a weird situation and i haven't seen this discussion anywhere else yet, which is why i wanted to put it in words. not sure if you can even relate to this at all, but thank you for listening anyway. love your blog!

I also really haven’t seen folks talk about this elsewhere, and I really appreciate you speaking up about it. Thank you so much for sharing your experiences.

I don’t think this is a weird experience; queer people exist everywhere, no matter what, and we always have. I can say with certainty that you aren’t the only trans person in that situation; you just don’t have contact with the others. Hell, until recent years, this was the most common experience for queer people worldwide!

Even the U.S. hasn’t always been as safe for queer people as it is today, and certain areas here are definitely more dangerous than others. You may find some historical accounts of queer experiences, even in the U.S., resonate with you more; like Stone Butch Blues, which talks quite a bit about what it was like trying to find community while trans in the 1950′s & onward.

I don’t personally have experience with this, and can’t offer much advice that I’m not sure you know already; there is likely some more underground community there, there are others like you, and hopefully you can build at least a few connections. Something is better than nothing, wherever and however you can get it.

Maybe others have more to add- and if not, maybe this will, at the very least, resonate with others & help someone feel less alone.

#queer #lgbtq #lgbt #trans #transgender #romania #romanian #best of luck anon 💙 you're doing a lot of good just talking about this #Anon #Ask

41 notes · View notes

trashbinbackyard · 3 years

Note

jack/mirad & kai/helvi

I woke up at 8 and went like eeeh i can sleep another half an hour and them boom, 1pm

1. Who's the one who's reckless and always getting into trouble while the other gotta pull em out

Mirad has grown past his most reckless tendencies, Jack however hasn't, but he's more at danger to himself than to others

Kai is very careful when he's out hunting and he's never alone. Helvi however has a habit of going into the woods alone

2. Who's the one to send the other "I love my gf/bf" memes

I don't feel like either?

If they had phones it'd be Helvi

4. Which one spoils the other more and do they ever get competitive to show the other more love

Mirad spoils Jack, lets be real, it doesn't turn into a competition bc it's in moderation, and mostly Mirad treating Jack to some of his skincare products

Kai miiiiight spoil Helvi juuuuust a bit, he doesn't mind getting up way earlier to fix her breakfast and help her tie her hair and acquiring many fur blankets

5. How many years did it take to get married or was it just not for them

A few years for sure, when they both were sure about it. Probably talked about it too before Mirad proposed

Few years, if wasn't for Kai's role in the village they would've gotten married later, as neither really saw marriage as That important and just something they one day would like to do.

6. What was their wedding like

Small, just closest family and couple friends, nothing extravagant for the middle aged men

Whole day event basically with everyone from the village and surrounding area invited (against Kai's best wishes), Weddings, and especially high profile weddings like that are few and far between and they're quite the event. Small ceremony but then a huge feast with dancing singing and general revelry

7. Is their friends/family supportive

Ellen is very happy for them both, Mirad's parents were wary but approve later on, Marda is still sus about Jack

Very much so, Kory pretty much pushed them to get married already, Kat when she finds out is very happy for them both. Helvi's parents are so proud and treat Kai like close family

8. How does one comfort the other when the other is in distress/having a panic attack/crying

Mirad talks to Jack gently, checks if he hasn't hurt himself, bring him a snack and drink. When Mirad's distressed Jack will ask if he can do anything and keep him company if he lets him

If Kai's in distress he tends to shut down and all Helvi can really do is keep him company and hold him. If Helvi's upset Kai will call a timeout and just go somewhere with her where she can calm down and talk things through

9. Which one dissociates

Jack mostly

10. Which one stares at the other's booty like "damn" and how does the other react when catching them

Both. Mirad would be more cheeky (hehe) in his reaction while Jack is like "my booty?? :0"

Helvi. Kai blushes

11. When they live together what kinda place do they live in? What does their home look like?

Both had their separate places, where Mirad's was very neat and organized and Jack's was a whole mess. Jack would still keep his place as a workshop while he pretty much now lives with Mirad, where he learns to respect the house rules

They share a two-story chief's house with Kory and a garm, they have the whole lower level to themselves pretty much, and it's quite big, it's very cozy and bit cabin'y even if it's larger

13. How does each act when getting drunk

Jack's a sad drunk, first thing Mirad knew about him tbh. Mirad doesn't drink if I remember correct

Neither of them want to get Drunk drunk, just tipsy. Kai loosens up and gets chattier. Helvi gets giggly and cuddly

14. Which one rolls over in the morning to wake up the other one just to give kiss them

Beware the morning breath. Mirad wakes up before Jack

Kai doesn't wake Helvi up when he leaves the bed to go prepare breakfast, but when that's done he will kiss her goodmorning

16. Does one have an interest the other think is weird but wants to listen to it regardless

Jack likes welding for fun too, he's made some little "art" pieces for Mirad with textures he knows he likes, and Mirad appreciates it. Mirad's big into working out and Jack will be out of breath in two minutes if he joins but it's a pleasant experience

Helvi loves making potions and instruments and while Kai knows little about either he's up for helping her if she asks, she also sings. I know this seems kinda random bc I just know thought of it, but Kai's into drawing with charcoals, it would be fitting for his "quiet kid with not many friends" character (it hits a little too close home lmao)

17. Which one uses cropped hentai as reaction images

That's very much up Jack's alley

If they had phones, Helvi

18. Does one of them kinkshame the other

Not kinkshame, more like kink-concern on Mirad's part like "Jack, honey, WHY do you wanna be choked that hard"

Neither of them have really out there kinks, though Helvi would be up to do it in the woods. Just have to be extra careful they're far enough from any civilization

19. Is one of them self conscious about their body? If so how does the other comfort them

Jack, he's pudgy and wrinkly. Mirad doesn't mind it one bit and calling Jack a sexy beast on the regular makes Jack happy and less ashamed of his body

Helvi used to, before trans-your-gender spell hit, (and bc she basically got to decide what her body would look like of course she has no regrets) Kai is very body-neutral about himself, yeah that's a body, nothing special but ain't nothing wrong with it either

21. What is their song? Like the song that gives them overwhelming feelings?

Well I have listed Silent storm for them once and you know what, I stand by it

From Heilung Traust and Krigsgaldr (first half of it anyway), both were big inspirations for Helvi's character in general and Maria Franz is her voiceclaim too lol (also the guy on krigsgaldr second verse for Kai's voiceclaim (before 4.40 mark))

28. Are either of them mentally ill, if so how do they help one another cope

Jack is a recovering addict, also depressed, and alcoholic (recovering when they get together). Mirad is also an ex-addict and while he's much further into his recovery he's not immune to the shitty stuff that still might happen, they're each other's peer support

Helvi used to have bad dysphoria

29. Does one have a spot on them where they would melt when the other kisses them there

Head, forehead for Jack (and lips of course) he's not that big into getting kisses on his body. Mirad is sensitive everwhere but IIRC neck and sides are big

Helvi's wrists and neck just below her ears. Kai's throat and forehead

30. Do they dance together

Mirad poledances, Jack enjoys the view

At their wedding sure, both lil tipsy and letting loose, both lost their flower crowns that evening

31. Do they sing together

More like hum if they feel like it

Helvi's the one signing, Kai might join in on a verse or two

34. Are they a reckless couple or safe

Pretty safe with the occasional reckless on Jack's part

Safe

35. What be their kinks and do they try each other's kinks

Love and Care, and choking

They're pretty vanilla

37. Do they get into fights often? If so what do they fight over and how do they make up?

Arguments sure about Jack's self-destructive behaviors sometimes but the rule is never go to sleep angry so they both reflect on it with compassion

Not really, at least before The Incident, apologize and kiss and make up

38. Which one's top, bottom, verse

Mirad's a top, Jack is a pillow princess vers

Kai's top, Helvi's bottom

39. What kinda sex they be having (gentle rough whatever)

Whatever they're in the mood for, some tender lovin'? Sure! Get hot and heavy? With moderation. Break into laughter in the middle of it? Silly is also a mood!

It starts off as hot and heavy but calms down to more gentle

40. Who would fight in honor for the other if someone would insult them

Jack would just hit them with the "don't be meeeaaan 🥺🥺" Mirad I feel like would go the verbal route as well but more stern

It's common knowledge to Not insult the village shaman (the one who has illness remedies and the one who blesses you before you travel), and you DONT insult the the chief's kid/chief. They're both capable of defending themselves but Kai will step in if he happens to hear

44. Do they want kids

Nah, who needs kids when you got nieces

Yeah, and I've finally made up my mind, they're gonna adopt a bunch (and bc you dropped out of the campaign I can tell you how: a village not that near but not that far gets attacked by a power hungry druid and leaves bunch of kids without parents and the party will escort them back to Kai's village, before they go after the druid)

#whoowhee there was a LOT #the power hungry druid is part of visenya's backstory and I was planning on the party taking a route that crosses Ziva's fam's village and #they see it in ruins (also bc of the power hungry druid)#idk how it's gonna play out yet but thats the plan #armed asshats #space shitstorm #im sure you have made a post with songs for mirad and jack and only one I remember is moves like jagger #jack is pretty dysfunctional at the beginning but with love and support from mirad and ellen and therapy he will get better

7 notes · View notes