#i feel like the rhetoric is so focused on how successful harry is now that it can make us blind to when he is reaching out like he did when | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

agardenintheshire · 5 years

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“The Wisdom of the Crowd: Internet Memes and The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey” by Michelle Markey Butler

hi tolkien fandom! did you know there’s an essay dealing with memes and the first hobbit movie?? now you do! bless my uni for having this essay. i thought it’d be fun to give you some of the best bits from the essay

without further ado........let’s go (on an adventure!)

(i will make a TLDR post about this and link it, but i just wanna get it out there after spending like 5 hours typing this dkfksdfjlsfjs)

(Boldened is my own emphasis!)

“The Wisdom of the Crowd: Internet Memes and The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey” by Michelle Markey Butler

[...] Harry Potter, the Game of Thrones, and Twilight do appear regularly in memes. But the works of Tolkien, despite being decades older, hold their own with them in the cutting-edge culture of memes. [...] My handling of memes deals with their rhetorical functions. Among these, as I have argued elsewhere, is crowd-sourced literary criticism. This essay will argue that memes are a vehicle through which a broad community thoughtfully engages with and presents nuanced criticism of Jackson’s films.

[...] Of course, not all Lord of the Rings memes participate in crowdsourced literary analysis. Indeed, many do not. Some are merely humorous, or employ LOTR elements for other objectives such as social critique. A rough estimate would be that one in ten engage in literary analysis of Lord of the Rings. But those LOTR memes that do carry the function of literary analysis by and large do so through the method of comparative consideration of the book and Jackson’s film versions.

In contrast, memes about The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey have thus far focused almost exclusively on the movie. Memes that appeared before the film was released express anxiety about its potential handling of the book and question why the book was adapted into three movies. One meme, for instance, unfavorably compares Jackson’s strategy for adapting The Hobbit with his approach to Lord of the Rings.

The meme is arguing that while adapting three books into three movies is a reasonable artistic decision, adapting one book into three movies is not. The real reason for this decision, the meme asserts, is financial, making this claim of financial motivation using the Aliens meme, a choice which allows the meme to imply that a monetary incentive for a three-movie adaptation of The Hobbit is as crazy a notion as the claim that aliens might have visited the earth. Anxiety and skepticism about the upcoming Hobbit films are evident.

[...]

Within hours of the release of The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey in December 2012, memes drawing upon images of the film began to appear and indeed, evaluate the movie, functioning in essence as crowd-sourced critique. The earliest and most prevalent of these memes - I’m Going on an Adventure, Majestic Thorin, and Never Have I Been So Wrong - focus upon moments and elements of the movie that engender strong reactions, either positive or negative, and analyze those reactions.

Snippets of the I’m Going on an Adventure scene had already been revealed in a trailer released in September in 2012. Yet while the image that is the basis for this meme was present in the trailer, memes featuring this moment did not appear until after the movie’s release. The meme community became interested in this line when it appeared in the context of the movie, rather than in the relative isolation of the trailer, as would be expected if memes function as crowdsourced analysis of the larger work. Unlike the two other pervasive memes that emerged following the release of The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, I’m Going on an Adventure memes are overwhelmingly positive in their characterization of the scene.

[...] The juxtaposition of the first two images suggests that getting new video games feels just as exciting, just as much as the beginning of an awesome adventure, as Bilbo setting out with a group of dwarves to steal treasure from a dragon. However, the second and third images critiques the actual experience of those games. Whereas Bilbo in fact goes on an adventure, playing the videogames leads nowhere, but sitting on the couch in your underwear. Not exactly the same as [Bilbo’s adventures]. The meme makes an argument about the limitations of virtual entertainment through (perhaps ironically) comparison with a fictional (albeit presented as real) adventure. [...]

Similarly, let’s consider a second example of a meme that depends for its meaning upon a positive view of the “I’m Going on an Adventure” moment:

The meme implies that the narrator believes that as an adult, he should take a level-headed, even casual approach to travel, but in reality he sees it like Bilbo sees his journey - an exciting adventure. [...]

On most meme sites, anyone can create and submit memes, but not all memes are featured by the websites. Most have a voting system that factors into determining which memes become featured (often called “making the front page.”). [...] Memes, then, funcion as crowdsourced literary criticism (among other rhetorical purposes, as discussed above) both due to the open submission format and because successful memes are those chosen by the community. Memes are, thus, peer-reviewed.

The popularity of “I’m Going on an Adventure” memes carries several interesting implications. First, the widespread interest in such memes, both creating and choosing them, suggests that movie audiences indentified this moment as one to which they had an intense response. For images or moments to become memetic, they must be immediately recognizable - important, meaningful, or in some way striking enough to have formed an accessible memory in the viewer’s mind. The widespread presence of the “I’m Going on an Adventure” meme thus suggests that this scene was indeed such a moment. Secondly, the handling of the scene in the meme suggests that audience reaction was in general a positive one. [...] The film clearly intends the scene to be a moment of high emotion and engagement (witness the film techniques employed as well as the swell of the musical score). From the evidence of the memes, we would have to conclude that it was successful.

While meme communities’ responses to the “I’m Going on an Adventure” scene were positive, other elements of the film did not fare as well. “Majestic Thorin” is a meme that points up the mixed results of the film’s adaptation of the characterization of Thorin. In the book, Thorin is a middle-aged dwarf whose overriding character trait is pomposity, most clearly seen in his tendency towards long-winded speeches filled with big words. Like most elements of the book, Thorin is not taken entirely seriously; at times his pomposity is played for humor. Nonetheless, the book handles that aspect with a light touch, never undercutting Thorin so much as to disable his ability to be seen as a courageous, albeit flawed, figure. We take his status as king seriously, we regret his bad decisions, we applaud his repentance, and we mourn his death, none of which would be possible - or at least would be considerably different - if the book presented him purely as a figure of humor.

The movie, in contrast, portrays Thorin as young, good-looking (”hot” would be more accurate), laconic, and most importantly, intensely serious. Perhaps too serious, the memes suggest.

The movie clearly intends to characterize Thorin as a “chip on his shoulder”, “tough as nails” dwarf prince out for revenge - a “badass”, in internet parlance. But memetic attention to this element is not necessarily positive. Nor is it overwhelmingly negative. “Majestic Thorin” memes question the portrayal, not utterly condemn it.

One problem with it, the memes suggest, is that the difference between the characterization of Thorin in the book, and, perhaps more importantly, the rest of the dwarves in the movie, might be too wide. Consider, for instance, another Majestic Thorin meme.

The meme’s argument is that Thorin is so much more awesome than even his closest dwarf competition that Kili is often reduced to tears of frustration at his inadequacy.

The situation is similar in nearly all Majestic Thorin memes.

As with the example above, this meme argues that the gap between the movie’s attention to and characterization of Thorin compared with its presentation of the other dwarves is too extreme. The movie lavishes Thorin with markers we are to understand that he is the only really important dwarf, that he has legitimate grievances to avenge, that we are to give our full sympathy to him. None of the other dwarves, even Kili, come close. This particular meme takes a bonus swipe at the movie’s presentation of Kili, noting that he lacks the most definitive of dwarvish characteristics, a beard.

A final example of Majestic Thorin demonstrates how extreme the meme community finds the characterization to be.

This meme is particularly effective at making the argument that the movie goes to far in elevating Thorin above the other dwarves. It picks up on Thorin’s characteristics gesture throughout the movie of staring into the middle distance, clearly brooding upon the injustices he’s experienced and how he intends to get vengeance. The meme argues, though, that this is not the reason for his continual middle-distance contemplation. Rather, he looks away from the other dwarves so much because he’s too majestic for their presence and can’t stand to look at them, even to the point of ignoring his nephew Kili, who beg like to a child to be notices. Everyone loves a brooding good guy intent on punishing those who wronged him, the meme argues, but The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey goes too far in trying to make Thorin the sole dwarvish object of our affections. We love the other dwarves too (especially Kili) and would prefer to feel as if we do so because of the movie’s presentation of them and not despite it.

Unlike most memes [Note 12: Intriguingly, it is also a rare meme that can be traced to a particular source, a discussion of tumblr by users mistlethalia @monsterthalia and @jackietastic in December 2012] “Majestic Thorin” does not have a dominant image, instead making use of numerous stills from the film. This variation suggests that the meme is indeed about the overall portrayal of Thorin, not simply how he appears in a particular scene. Majestic Thorin memes consistently draw attention to the potentially over-the-top characterization of Thorin, but do not (at least not yet) mercilessly mock that characterization. In addition to suggesting that the characterization gap between Thorin and he other dwarves is too wide, the memetic attention of Thorin also questions whether Thorin’s majesty is problematic not because it is his most defining characteristic but because it is largely his only characteristic. By focusing upon Thorin’s majesty, the meme suggests that while viewers did not necessarily dislike the characterization of Thorin, they came away from the film with concerns that the brooding, appearance-based presentation was limiting, ultimately resulting in a nice-to-look-at but underdeveloped character.

An underdeveloped portrayal of Thorin might go a long way towards explaining memetic communities’ ambivalent response to a later scene in the film. Far and away the most prevalent meme deriving from The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey is Never Have I Been So Wrong/ I Have Never Been So Wrong. Thorin’s actual line in the movie is “I have never been so wrong in all my life, “ but versions of the meme exist using both the shortened real line and the variant phrasing, “Never have I been so wrong.” Quotations have an observed tendency to distill or distort as they become widely known. In this instance, it is interesting to note that the change makes the phrasing more formal, arguably more consistent with the film’s characterization of Thorin as aloof and proud, bordering on arrogant. Inverting his words gives the phrase a more formal, more archaic, and more elevated feel.

The Never Have I Been So Wrong meme nearly always employs the same template, a juxtaposed pair of images. In the first frame, we look over Bilbo’s shoulder at Thorin. In the second, we look over Thorin’s shoulder at Bilbo as they embrace. These images derive, of course, from the climactic scene near the end of the film in which Thorin changes his mind about whether bringing Bilbo along was a good idea - after we see Bilbo risk his own life to save Thorin.

As with the “I’m Going on an Adventure” scene, the film clearly intends this scene to be a moment of high emotional engagement for the audience. Unlike the earlier scene, it is not at all certain that the scene succeeds in being so; indeed, the consistent irreverence with which the scene is handled in memes suggest that it does not. Whereas “I’m Going on an Adventure” memes nearly always reference the scene positively, “I Have Never Been So Wrong” memes employ the scene at best ambivalently, and at worst, mockingly. For instance, we see examples of the meme using the typical images but with the following captions:

The widespread popularity of the “Never Have I Been So Wrong” meme seems to result from at least two elements. The meme is highly adaptable, lending itself to commentary about a wide variety of topics, as the examples above show. While that is demonstrably true, it seems insufficient to explain the meme’s popularity and longetivity. Within that flexible meme resides a core of commentary about the movie - that An Unexpected Journey aims to bridge the lighter, more playful world of the Hobbit book with the more solemn and dangerous world of LOTR, both as text and as movies, but is not entirely successful - a conclusion that viewers arrived at not long after the film’s release and about which they have not changed their minds.

Never Have I Been So Wrong is the most common Hobbit movie meme to emerge, most likely because the scene in many ways encapsulates the film as a whole, and audience reaction to this moment is representative of viewer reaction to the movie as a whole. This scene, like the movie itself, aims at a serious, high-concept reaction from viewers but does not fully succeed, resulting in a moment that partially deconstructs itself, teetering on the edge of self-parody. That teetering is what Never Have I Been So Wrong memes draw attention to. We react strongly to this moment, but we’re not certain how or why, or whether our reaction tracks with what the film meant to provoke. When Thorin confronts Bilbo, the seeminlgy-intended seriousness does not entirely hold together; the moment does not ring fully true. It is this partial failure of dramatic persuaiveness that memes have picked up on, the moment that almost, but not quite, travels into unintentional self-satire, and employs it repeatedly for precisely that purpose - mocking partly serious, partly ludicrous, situations. Of which, it turns out, we encounter many in our lives, hence the meme’s continued vibrancy.

As much as audiences wanted to like The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, they struggled to do so. There was concern and skepticism about the decision to adapt the book into three movies, and memes reflected this, but there was also goodwill towards the films and a profound hope that they would turn out well. Parts of An Unexpected Journey were well received, as we can see from the emergence of the I’m Going on an Adventure meme and its favorable handling of the scene. Other memes, however, suggest that while audiences recognized the filmmakers’ goal of incorporating The Hobbit into a more developed and darker world of LOTR, that goal has been incompletely met, at least evidenced in An Unexpected Journey. The desire to make Thorin a more serious character came at the expense of him being a more fully realized character, as the Majestic Thorin meme’s insistence upon drawing attention to the movie’s portrayal of Thorin as a laconic, brooding badass, and only that, suggests. Most crucially, what is clearly meant to be the film’s climactic scene of repentance and redemption is so unsuccessfully rendered that instead it becomes a meme for critiquing moments that are half-serious and half-ridiculous. Each of these issues were raised either implicitly or explicitly in the memes themselves and demonstrate how the broader meme community engages in thoughful, nuanced critique of Jackson’s films. With this in mind, it will be interesting indeed to watch the meme communities when The Desolation of Smaug is released, to see what memes emerge and what they’ll tell us about viewers’ analysis of the film.

Sources:

Butler, Michelle. “The Wisdom of the Crowd: Internet Memes and The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey”. The Hobbit and Tolkien’s Mythology, edited by Bradford Lee Eden, McFarland &Company, 2014, pp. 222 -231.

Picture Sources:

https://michellemarkeybutler.com/academic/hobbit-memes/

#personal #uh how to tag this?#the hobbit an unexpected journey #an unexpected journey #thorin #majestic thorin #also i'm sorry for everyone on mobile this is such a long post ahhh oh no #long post

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islareeveswriting · 5 years

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Harry was breathless.

There was an aching burn in his chest, his legs were so tired he was sure they could have given up any second, and despite the crisp chill that was hanging in the air even with the sun still in the sky, Harry could feel a sweat pricking at his brow and down the centre of his back. The vigorous warm up got him every time. No matter how fit he thought he was getting, no matter how much further he could push his body, the ten minutes of HIIT sprints followed by the ten minute jog, designed to keep his heart rate up and to improve the teams stamina, was always a killer.

Harry found reverie in the fact he wasn’t the only one clawing for oxygen as he jogged the perimeter of the park. Shane was running next to him and all Harry could hear was their laboured breathing, and stamping feet as they ran. All around them other men their age were doing the same, apart from Niall who as always was at the lead and seemingly unaffected by the cardio torture they were all enduring. Harry tried not to be jealous, but he found it hard when Niall was so far up ahead enjoying his time jogging around the park, and Harry was wondering how half way didn’t feel like a success but rather just a nail in the coffin.

When he stopped, Harry knew he would double over, hold onto his knees and claw for his breath. He’d consider wandering over to his bag and finding his asthma pump, but he’d never actually go and get it, instead he’d wheeze and clear his throat, take deep lungfuls of air until his breathing had returned to normal. He didn’t know what he was trying to prove, or who he was trying to prove it to, but Harry would never reach for his inhaler unless there really was no other option. Unless someone else pushed it between his lips and made him inhale the salbutamol, Harry doubted he’d ever breathe the stuff in again.

“Have you spoken to Molly yet?” Shane asked, seemingly from nowhere, his voice cutting through the sound of their heavy breathing and pounding feet like a sharp knife through flesh. Harry glanced to Shane out of the corner of his eye, and though he could tell Shane had been wondering about the question for a little while, he was focused solely on where they were going.

“No, not yet,” Harry admitted quietly. It wasn’t something he was proud of, being deceitful, or being a liar, but at the time he hadn’t been able to see a way around it, and he wasn’t sure that had really changed, despite what anyone else said.

“Haz, you’ve got to tell her,” Shane said, and there was the sound of a sigh in his voice though it got lost in the breath he couldn’t catch as he spoke. “She can’t make a decision if you don’t be honest with her, she’s falling for you, but only what you’re showing her, it’s not fair, on her mate” Shane told Harry, and Harry felt himself swallowing on nothing, his pace shortening as he looked down to his trainers.

“I don’t want her to freak out,” Harry mumbled, though he knew it was more than that, and he knew it had gone past that by now.

“Better tell her now than really fall for her and end up heartbroken,” Shane pointed out, though Harry just shrugged, and really Shane should have known playing to Harry’s own emotions and feelings wasn’t the way he was going to win. Harry didn’t see the way Shane shook his head, rolled his eyes a little at Harry’s apparent apathy towards his own self destruct button over anyone else’s. “Better now than she falls for you and you end up breaking her heart,” Shane amended quietly, and he saw how that shivered over Harry, making him tense his jaw and hold his head a little higher.

“She doesn’t need to know yet,” Harry tried, but it was starkly clear that Harry didn’t truly believe that for even a second.

“Yes she does,” Shane fired back quickly.

“Why?” Harry hissed, his feet hitting the ground harder, sending shockwaves up through his legs that he knew he’d feel the next day.

“We’re not talking about hidden stash of porn under your bed mate,” Shane told him, “we’re talking about your daughter.” Harry stopped then. It felt like the wind had been fully knocked out of him and he stepped off of the path onto the grass, hands on hips and staring up at the sky, gasping for air, literally. Harry was taking quick deep breaths, but none of them seemed to sink down quite deep enough, to fill his lungs to capacity and fulfill his body’s need for oxygen. “Harry,” Shane tried again, just as breathless. Harry turned to him and shook his head.

“It’s not the right time,” Harry breathed, marching his legs on the spot, trying to keep them from going dead due to how quickly he’d cut his pace to a stop. He still hadn’t quite caught his breath, but his mind felt clearer, and it was getting easier to talk and breathe, though he’d rather have just been doing the breathing than having the conversation Shane seemed so intent on having.

“There’s never going to be a right time, there’s never going to be a good time, but she can’t go on thinking you’re Lola’s godfather and that she hasn’t got a dad,” Shane pointed out, and Harry felt every single part of him go brittle like he could snap with very little force. He swallowed down and felt his nostrils flare, rolling his lips together and biting them tight, before turning from Shane and moving to get back into the jog they were now at the back of. “Harry, whoa,” Shane called after him and Harry felt the firm hand on his shoulder pulling him back. “What have you done?” Shane questioned deeply, knowingly. Harry swallowed again, and took a deep breath that he didn’t need to steady himself, no amount of breathing would steady him now.

"I told her Lola was yours," Harry admitted quietly, but Shane heard it crystal clear now they were stood in virtual silence.

"You did what?" Shane asked rhetorically, piercing blue eyes wide and feeling like nails stabbing into Harry’s own. Harry was sure he could genuinely feel his eyes beginning to prick and sting with how Shane looked at him, like he was everything that was wrong, like he was the disappointment and the failure all rolled into one. "Harry are you fucking joking me? What the fuck are you thinking dragging me into this?" Shane hissed, moving closer to Harry nostrils flaring, jaw tensing, and fists curling into balls at his side.

"She asked and it just sort of slipped out," Harry tried to defend but it was entirely pointless. Shane was fuming and it was clear to Harry that he’d got himself into a hole that he’d only ever be able to dig deeper, but never clamber out of. There was no going back, Harry was in too deep, in every possible way he looked at it. “It’s what Lola believes, why can’t L-”

“Molly isn’t a three year old child Harry, we told Lola to make everything easier for her, all things considered, you know that” Shane growled. "Why could the truth not have just slipped out, huh?" Shane snapped.

"You know it's not that simple." Harry practically begged Shane to see that in from tone of voice alone, his eyes squeezing shut, but when he opened them again, Shane was still staring down at him with fury in his eyes, flushed cheeks, and the veins under the skin of his neck throbbing. Harry’s breath was shaky, and the sting in his eyes was only getting worse, as Shane moved closer, his chest thumping into Harry’s knocking him back a step.

"Yes it is,” Shane spat, glaring down at Harry, fists clenching harder. “So much more simple than what you've gotten yourself into now, you're not kid anymore Harry, I'm not picking up the pieces after this, you've really fucked up." Shane walked away with that, marching back down the path towards the rest of the team who had surely finished their jog by now. Harry heard him pick up his pace and all Harry wanted to do was run the other way, far away from anyone else he could hurt, from anyone else he could drag down to his level. Everytime he thought he was in the clear, he just managed to find the depths of him where he’d buried the parts that led to self destruction, that led to anything good falling out of his life, that left him alone and in the dark without anyone to turn a light on. That left him drowning without anyone to keep him afloat.

Some of you saw it coming, but did you see it coming like this? Who knows? I’m sorry don’t hate me. It’s not the biggest bombshell for sure, but it’s pretty big huh? I hope you like. Come talk to me

#dive #TALK TO ME #ask box open #all the time #for you lovely lot #about anyting #but talk to me about this please #your thoughts #and theories #and feelings #harry styles #harry styles au #harry fic #1dff #harry angst #harry fluff #dark harry

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lisatelramor · 6 years

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Holiday Season

I'm weirdly enamored with the idea of Saguru baking. This is the second fic I've written with him baking... Felt like doing a holiday fic this year, so Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, happy Holiday Season if you don't, and may the new year bring better news than so much of this one.

Saguru surveyed the ingredients laid out on the counter, flour and sugar and eggs and a pound of butter all waiting to be made into something. Mum’s family recipe box with its dented corners and stiff hinges was open next to it. Ordinarily he would take what recipe he needed and shove it back into its cupboard, but there was an art to holiday baking, a process. Gran had always had a very specific order of baking her Christmastime goodies in order of what ingredients were used, whether there was a refrigeration period or not, and how long each batch needed in the oven. Mum tended to toss Gran’s careful methodology out the window and start whatever took her fancy at the moment, but Saguru had always preferred a more scientific—or at least methodical—approach to baking. It made the process go smoother and quicker and optimized resources.

He gathered what he needed to prep the mince palmiers first, turned back toward the recipe with a package of puff pastry in one hand and a jar of mince in the other and found Kuroba Kaito sitting at the kitchen table like he had been there the whole time. Saguru very carefully did not drop his ingredients, but set them on the counter with an extra bit of carefulness as he processed this addition to his environment.

“What,” Saguru asked, “are you doing in London?”

“You’re baking? I didn’t know you baked,” Kuroba said, sounding exhausted.

“It’s the holidays,” Saguru said. “Kuroba, why are you in my kitchen?”

“You see it was a bit of an accident and now I’m here and have time and hey, you live in London, so hi.” He gave a lazy salute, resting his chin on folded arms. He looked awfully content considering he was trespassing.

“You accidentally ended up in another country.”

“There were...” Kuroba waved a hand. “Extenuating circumstances involving keeping track of a weird kid and following up on a rumor and, well, here I am. You would not believe how expensive holiday plane tickets are.”

“I believe.” The real question was why Kuroba wasn’t taking a plane back to Japan already. Knowing Kuroba, he wouldn’t answer any questions directly though, and if Saguru even implied that it might have something to do with Kid, his insinuations would be deflected. It should probably alarm him more to have his classmate show up halfway around the world in Saguru’s kitchen, but it was just the sort of unexpected thing Kuroba would pull. Saguru gave a mental shrug and turned back to his baking. “Well, you’re just in time for holiday baking.”

“I can’t believe you bake.”

“It’s tradition,” Saguru said primly. “Gran started it, and Mum would be here for it, but her job has been a bit more hectic than usual lately. I thought I’d get a head start so no one would complain come Christmas that Gran’s ginger biscuits were missing.”

“What’s your mom do?” Kuroba asked. Saguru could feel his eyes following the motions as Saguru rolled out his puff pastry and opened the jar of mincemeat.

“She’s a psychologist.” Kuroba hummed like this explained things. Saguru spread mince along the pastry dough. “That’s how my parents met, actually. A criminal psychology talk at a Japanese university. Mum was studying abroad for a year in her undergrad and Otou-san was there as a secondary speaker on statistics of mental illness intersecting with violent crimes in Japan. That was long before he was a police commissioner of course.” Saguru rolled the dough, wrapped it, and put it in the freezer before grabbing a pot and the butter to start the florentines. “They talked after and got into a big row over drinks about whether criminal behaviors were nature or nurture. It must have been a good debate because Mum finished out her degree in Japan and married him within the year.”

“Huh.” Kuroba blinked sleepily at him. Butter, cream, sugar, and honey in a pot, chop the fruit as it heated, stand by with the flour and almonds. “Then they had you?”

“Eventually. After Mum got her doctorate and Otou-san got a promotion. They had rather different ideas about raising a child though. They’re divorced now, of course, but I was born and raised until elementary school in Japan.” Ordinarily Saguru didn’t talk about himself. He focused on cases he solved instead of his personal life, and that was as it should be. But with Kuroba in his kitchen and infiltrating his Christmas tradition, it felt fitting to give Kuroba a bit of background to go with everything. Kuroba knew Saguru the detective, but he never really interacted with Saguru the person. ...Saguru’s fault. He tended to see Kuroba-as-Kid rather than Kuroba-as-person as well.

“Why’d they divorce?” Kuroba asked. For all that he looked tired, he also looked interested.

“Cultural and career differences.” Mum wanted more than society wanted for her, and in the end she’d missed home. It had been an amicable split all things considered. “I visited Otou-san in the summer.” Ingredients combined, Saguru prepared several trays to pop in the oven. “How did your parents meet?”

“Oyaji met Kaa-san in Paris, saved her from a sticky situation, and swept her off her feet.”

“Hmm. Sounds exciting.” And lacking in details. It probably involved Kid. Clean a bit before the next bit. New bowl for the ginger biscuit dough, pop out one batch of florentines to cool and put in the next tray, repeat until done and pull out the palmier to slice.

“You’re actually good at this,” Kuroba commented as Saguru swapped florentines for sugar-spice dusted palmier rounds in the oven.

“Baking’s a science,” Saguru said with a nod to the kitchen scale. “Apply the proper ratios and required heat, get the desired result. Simple chemistry.” He nicked one of the cooler florentines, enjoying its buttery flavor. “And it is its own reward.”

“I can get behind that.” Kuroba gave himself a shake and stood. “Mind if I help?”

“Eat the results or help bake?” Saguru asked rhetorically. He held out the recipe card for ginger biscuits. “Start measuring the dry ingredients. I’m sure you can manage that.”

“I’ve baked before, Hakuba, I’m not going to ruin your cookies.”

Saguru pretended he didn’t notice another florentine go missing. It was surprisingly easy to work with Kuroba in the kitchen. He was quick to figure out what Saguru would need next and didn’t end up in Saguru’s way unlike the time Saguru tried baking with his aunt.

In no time the ginger dough was in refrigerator and Kuroba was measuring out flour for the shortbread dough. “Is it always so... streamlined?” Kuroba asked, waving his free hand at the neat stacks of finished baked goods and how Saguru had a bit of counter space set aside for each necessary step for each recipe.

“Hardly. Mum has the tendency to grab whatever recipe she finds first and make each one in succession. It goes faster this way though.”

“Huh. I haven’t baked since Aoko roped me into making a Christmas cake a few years ago,” Kuroba said. “That was...an experience.” He was very precise in his weight measurements, which Saguru could appreciate. He could picture Kuroba measuring chemicals for his flash bombs or smoke grenades with an equally intent expression, getting each ratio on the dot. “Baking’s not something that happens much.”

Saguru took the flour from him, blending it with sugar and butter mixture. “If it weren’t for the holiday tradition, I doubt it would happen much for me either.” Mum made him a birthday cake every year, but store bought biscuits were simpler to get ahold of with their busy lives than to take the time to bake anything by hand. Traditions were different though. Those demanded observation, all the more so since his grandmother had passed on. A way to keep her memory alive so to speak. “What do you do for holidays?”

“For Christmas?” Kuroba asked. “Not really something I celebrate unless Aoko wants to.”

“In general then.” Saguru turned out the dough and held out a hand for the rolling pin. Kuroba passed it to him without him needing to ask.

“We don’t really have traditions.” There was something flat in Kuroba’s tone, just missing the nonchalance he was going for. “We used to maybe, but those kind of stopped happening after my dad died.”

“Oh.” Saguru finished rolling dough to a stilted silence. It had almost been companionable until he’d bungled that up. Saguru almost wished Kuroba would fall into their usual mode of bickering and needling each other instead of this silence, but Kuroba just stood to the side, face in a neutral-pleasant mask and eyes tired. Saguru needed to fix this somehow.

The bag of pastry cutters had the usual Christmas shapes of stars and trees and deer and men, but there were other shapes in there too, meant for other holidays, and...yes, they did still have it. Saguru dropped a pastry cutter into Kuroba’s hands.

“A... four-leaf clover?” Kuroba said, turning it over.

“I thought you might appreciate the pun,” Saguru said. And it was Kid’s mark as well, a sideways nod of acknowledgement that at least in one way there was a family tradition of sorts. “It was meant for St. Patrick’s Day I believe, but it works well enough now on these too.”

“Because clovers scream Christmas,” Kuroba snarked. He accepted the cutter though, making a few shapes in the dough. Saguru chose stars and trees for the shortbread. The ginger biscuits could be men and reindeer.

They shared bits of dough scraps as they baked, a surprisingly companionable silence. Kuroba was still, as tired as when he had arrived, but more peaceful and less harried. He rolled a bit of dough into a ball and ate it, staring at nothing and his mind somewhere far away. It was rare to see an introspective Kuroba, as rare as a quiet Kuroba. Kuroba was energy and madcap chaos. Bright colors and flashing cards drawing the eye, always filling a room with his presence and impossible to ignore.

“Following a lead, hmm?” Saguru asked.

“If you’re trying to get me to confess to something...” Kuroba said, glancing at Saguru from the corner of his eye.

“At the moment, no. It’s poor timing though.”

Kuroba shrugged. “As good a time as any. No classwork to worry about coming due until January. Bit more than a week away leaves plenty of time.”

“Was your lead successful?”

There was the slightest slump to Kuroba’s shoulders, body hunching in on itself as if Kuroba was too tired to completely control his response. Saguru got another shrug. “What do you think?”

Right. That would be a touchy subject then. He cast about for something that wouldn’t ruin the somewhat comfortable atmosphere. “I went to see a magic show last week,” Saguru said.

“Yeah?” Kuroba stopped squishing cookie dough between his fingers to listen, head tilted to one side. “I thought you detective types hated magic shows.”

“It’s a lot harder to get caught up in them when you’re well aware that there’s a logical explanation for everything you’re seeing,” Saguru corrected. “That doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate a show.” He ignored the subtle eye roll from Kuroba. “At any rate, I was in the area for a case and had free time after it... I might have been feeling a bit nostalgic for Japan at the time.” He’d only gone to Kuroba’s school for half a year before transferring back to London, but it surprised him sometimes how much he missed it. Sometimes he wondered if he should just finish out high school there, but he knew he’d miss London too. There wasn’t a quick fix when your life took up time on different sides of the world. He checked the biscuits, found they needed a bit longer. “The magician was nowhere near as good as you. Your classroom antics were on par with his best illusions.”

“Of course, I’m one of the best magicians out there,” Kuroba said.

It wasn’t empty bragging any more than Saguru calling himself a good detective was. They’d both put effort and time into building up their skills in their chosen professions. “If you’re ever on stage one day, I would like to see what you perform.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“You can take it as one,” Saguru said. “I can’t exactly turn off my observations.” He took the biscuits from the oven and slid the parchment paper off onto wire racks to cool. When he turned back around, Kuroba had a grin on par to some of the ones Saguru had seen Kid sporting at heists. “What?”

“Just thinking about ways I could short circuit your brain into just enjoying the show instead of picking it apart.”

Saguru raised an eyebrow. “And I just said that trying to understand doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy the show. Besides, what goes through your mind when you see a new trick? Surely you’re trying to figure out how they did it too.”

“Usually I’m mostly ‘dang, that was really cool’ and I think about how they did it after the show is over.” Kuroba brought out the ginger biscuit dough and armed himself with the rolling pin.

“After, during,” Saguru said with a dismissive wave. “It amounts to the same thing; trying to understand the mystery of how it worked.”

“Killjoy,” Kuroba said.

“Realist,” Saguru countered.

“You’ll have to come back to Japan sometime for that show.”

Saguru smiled. “Yes, I suppose I will.”

The rest of the baking went quickly and progressed into decorating shortbread and ginger biscuits with Gran’s icing recipe dyed in jewel-bright colors. Kuroba took an inordinate amount of pleasure in making the ones he decorated as bright as possible. He was artistic as was to be expected, and they came out pleasing to the eye. Saguru’s were less bright, but more uniform. ‘Boring,’ if Kuroba’s opinion counted. Saguru looked at them and saw ‘traditional.’

By the time Mum finally arrived home from work, he and Kuroba had decorated cookies spread across the whole kitchen table and were making a bit of a mess out of decorating the Christmas cake as Saguru found that using a pastry bag was a bit harder than he remembered last doing it at twelve with Gran’s hands guiding his through the motions—the cake was usually Mum’s touch. Kuroba had taken over and the mess Saguru made was quickly becoming something a bit more elegant.

They both looked up when Mum walked into the room. “Wow. Looks like someone was busy,” she said. “How on earth did you manage to get all the holiday baking done in one afternoon?”

“It’s not that hard to do, Mum, Gran always managed.”

“Your grandmother could have forced time to bend for all I know. She was certainly stubborn enough.” Mum gave Saguru a quick hug before turning to Kuroba. “Hullo, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

In a blink Kuroba was all charm, masks Saguru hadn’t even realized were gone back in place. With a flick of his wrist, Kuroba offered Saguru’s mother a flower. “Kuroba Kaito—or Kaito Kuroba since this is England.” He spoke with slightly accented English; Kuroba must have been practicing his language skills lately since the last time Saguru heard him use English, it hadn’t been anywhere near as smoothly. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

Mum took the flower with a smile and both eyebrows disappearing into her bangs. “Well aren’t you the charmer. Saguru, you didn’t mention you were having a friend over.”

“Kuroba ran into some trouble with his flight home to Japan,” Saguru said, “and since I happened to live in London, it made more sense to stay the night here than in a hotel. He’ll be taking the guest room.” There was a flash of surprise on Kuroba’s face. Surely he didn’t think Saguru would toss him out? On Christmas Eve no less?

“A friend from Japan even,” Mum said, eyebrows creeping higher. “Well, whatever the circumstances, we’re glad to have you. Mind if I help finish up the cake? Can’t have you boys doing everything.”

Kuroba surrendered the frosting. “Go right ahead.”

“Lovely. I’ll finish this up and we can have a slice for breakfast in the morning.”

“Isn’t that a little...sweet?” Kuroba asked. He watched how her hands worked, making practiced dollops of frosting to create a snowy landscape out of Saguru’s messy work and Kuroba’s more careful waves.

“I was thinking a bit more on the alcohol content,” Saguru said.

“The point of holidays are to live a little,” Mum said pragmatically. “Why not have dessert to start the day? Or we could have some of your biscuits. Very nice decorating by the way. Bright. I can tell Saguru didn’t mix the colors this year.” She gave Kuroba a grin and a wink and started sculpting tiny snowmen.

“Boozy cake,” Kuroba said, eying the cake with new appreciation. “That’s a tradition I could get behind. Sounds a lot more fun than strawberry cream cake or a cake roll.”

“It’s funny how two of the traditional desserts require taking as much candied fruit and nuts as you can stuff into a confection and dousing it in copious amounts of alcohol,” Saguru said drily. “For the record, it’s peach brandy, and no, we don’t make it strong enough to get drunk off a slice of it.”

“Dang, a missed opportunity,” Kuroba deadpanned.

Mum laughed. “I like this one, Saguru, you’ll have to invite him back.”

“Of course.” He...wouldn’t mind Kuroba returning. This had been nice.

“Don’t worry about the last of the dishes,” Mum said with a nod at the few Saguru hadn’t cleaned up as he went. “I can do them. Go relax since you did all this work.” Said the woman who worked a ten hour day today, Saguru thought, but Mum did like frosting the cake and he knew the power of small, mindless tasks to unwind after a long day. “And Kuroba, you’re welcome here as long as you need to stay, ok?”

“Thanks.”

Saguru meant to leave Kuroba at the guest room, let him get the rest he clearly needs, but instead found himself lingering awkwardly in the doorway after pointing out where Kuroba could find things he might need.

Kuroba looked back at him, not seeming to feel that same awkwardness or uncertainty of what, exactly, they were—friends? Rivals? Acquaintances? He looked like he was trying to will Saguru’s motives from him by power of his gaze alone, and wasn’t that something of a role reversal.

Saguru cleared his throat. “You...probably could use some rest. I’ll just be—”

“Hakuba,” Kuroba said, cutting him off. “Why did you go back to London?”

Saguru blinked, startled. “Why?”

“You went through the trouble of transferring schools and getting into the police and everything,” Kuroba said. “Seems like a lot of effort just to chase Kid for a few months.”

There were no emotions slipping past Kuroba’s masks now, whatever relaxed state of mind he had had was lost when Mum arrived. When Saguru was in Japan, his life had been taken up by Nakamori’s loud, vicious enthusiasm as he chased Kid in the evenings and days spent in class observing Kuroba laughing, Kuroba flirting with Aoko, Kuroba avoiding Koizumi, Kuroba hiding the depth of his brilliance in flashy smiles and flashy tricks. He’d seen Kuroba joyful, jealous, angry, and nervous. He’d seen Kid triumphant and gloating and seen him pale with fear and regret. There was a phone call on a Paris morning and a lone glove hidden at the scene of a crime. Most people thought arrogance was Saguru’s biggest flaw as a detective, but Saguru knew it was too much empathy. He avoided most serial crime, worked murders because it was generally easier to have sympathy for the victim than the killer, and Kid had always been careful not to harm the officers that chased him, tried to keep property damage to a minimum, and almost always returned what he took. He might not know what Kid was trying to accomplish, but he knew it was something Kid felt deeply in enough to make a target of himself even if it sometimes terrified him. He knew Kuroba enough to say he was not a bad person.

Saguru looked away. “I never intended to stay in Japan,” he said, an honest answer if not a complete one. “And I had obligations here to fulfil.”

“Like baking holiday cookies.”

A tiny smile crossed his face without him meaning to. “Yes, like holiday baking.”

“Hmm,” Kuroba hummed like he didn’t believe that was all but he wasn’t going to push it. “Would you really invite me back?”

“Yes,” Saguru said. There was no hesitation in that at least. “I don’t mind you being here.”

“Don’t mind,” Kuroba parroted, sarcastic and slow. “Ringing endorsement that you want me here.”

Saguru rolled his eyes. “Fine. I enjoyed baking with you and would enjoy doing something similar again should the occasion arise.”

The mask split into a smile—a real one so far as Saguru could tell. “Cool. Thanks for the room. I am going to go pass out now.”

There was an awkward pause before Saguru realized he was still standing in the doorway. He stepped back. “Goodnight, Kuroba.”

“Night, Hakuba.” Kuroba waved and shut the door.

Saguru wandered back down to Mum.

“Not spending time with your friend?” she asked. She was working her way through dishes now, the cake fully frosted with little details added on with nonpareils and gel icing. Two smiling snowmen surrounded by flowers made of snow.

“I believe he’s tired.”

“Hmm.” The soothing clink of dishes and the hiss of water from the faucet. Familiar background noises in a kitchen filled with Kuroba’s unfamiliarly-bright frosted biscuits. “Are the clovers a pun on his name?” Mum asked, a nod to the unconventional shape for the season.

“I thought it might amuse him.”

“He seems nice enough, though I don’t think he trusts me.” She kept washing dishes, not giving Saguru and facial cues to draw from. “He’s very good at hiding what he’s feeling, isn’t he? If I hadn’t glanced around the corner before I entered the room, I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Yes. He is good at that.” Saguru sat at the table. Mum rinsed the last dish, setting it on the drain board and wiped her hands dry.

“So one of your Japanese classmates just happens to be in London.”

“A pleasant surprise.”

“I think you mentioned a Kuroba before.”

“I may have.”

Mum planted her hands on her hips. “Saguru...”

Saguru rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t press for details. He showed up and I wasn’t going to turn him away.”

“It would be a bit rude at Christmas,” Mum said and he wasn’t sure if it was straight sincerity or subtle sarcasm. She sighed. “Well, he is welcome, whatever his reasons. And he’s welcome at the family party tomorrow as well if he sticks around.”

“Thank you.”

Mum patted his cheek affectionately. “Now, I can’t believe you didn’t leave any baking for me!”

Saguru huffed. “If I didn’t the baking, you’d still be baking by Christmas.”

“A bit of midnight baking never hurt anyone.”

“Last year you were at it at three in the morning.”

“Saguru, if you say I have poor time management skills again...”

Saguru gave her his best innocent look. It wouldn’t have fooled him, let alone his mother. The hand on his cheek became a light swat to the back of his head and he ducked with it, laughing. They talked about their day until it was time for bed, snitching biscuits to munch on without guilt. Holidays were for indulging.

There was no light on in Kuroba’s room showing in the crack under the door when Saguru passed the guest room. He said a quiet goodnight in its direction all the same.

In the morning, Saguru couldn’t say he was surprised to find the guest room empty. Everything was neatly folded back in place as if no one had ever been there, except for a used towel where Kuroba must have made use of the shower. Downstairs there were a handful of biscuits missing and a tiny, presumptuous sliver taken from the Christmas cake that had been filled in with icing to the point where it was almost unnoticeable. On the counter was a note on the nice stationary they had stashed in the guest room’s desk and another one of Kuroba’s pretty paper roses.

Hakuba,

Thanks for letting me spend the night and crash your baking. You’re not so bad after all. Sorry to up and leave without saying goodbye, but I had a plane to catch early in the morning. Funnily, Christmas Day tickets cost a lot less than Christmas Eve. Tell your mom thanks for me as well, and that that cake is good—very alcoholic and different, but good. I looked Christmas cakes up on my phone and wow, didn’t know aged cakes were a thing. Anyway, if I’m ever in London again let’s meet up. And if you’re in Japan and ever need somewhere to sleep that isn’t your home, I have a guest room too.

Merry Christmas!

It was signed with a little clover doodle. It felt like he should be comparing handwriting with Kid’s heist notes. On the back was a post script, written in cramped Japanese that Saguru had to squint at to read.

Check in the electric kettle. This is still not a confession.

Saguru checked the kettle.

There was a gemstone there, a sapphire set in delicate golden filigree. It wasn’t anything Saguru had heard reported stolen, and was willing to bet he would hear about in the next few days.

Really, now, Kuroba wasn’t even trying to pretend at all. A tiny irrational part of him felt a bit warm at the thought that he had a bit of Kuroba’s trust. Saguru pocketed the gem and scribbled out the message in Japanese on the back. It might take Mum a bit longer to read, but she was still fluent in Japanese.

Not a bit too soon, it seemed because Mum slouched into the kitchen, in full disarray as she always was before her first cup of tea. “No Kuroba?” she asked, blinking around the room sleepily.

Saguru held up the note. “It seemed he had a plane to catch.”

“Ah. I’d have sent him off with something if I knew.”

Saguru would wait until she noticed the missing sliver of cake to pass along Kuroba’s message.

“Happy Christmas,” Mum said on her way to fill up the electric kettle—if Mum had been the one to wake up first.... It was just like Kuroba to have luck in his favor.

“Happy Christmas.”

Perhaps, Saguru thought giving the note in his hand one last glance, he would have to have another trip to Japan before his usual one in the summer. Just to visit.

It couldn’t hurt to check in on what Kid was doing either.

Saguru smiled and tucked the note away.

#magic kaito #fanfiction #christmas fic #my writing #there are recipe links for fun

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colubrina · 7 years

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Dramione 😍 "this is our only option."

“This is our only option,” Ron said. The words weren’t even a question. He sounded furious and disgusted and, perhaps, even betrayed. They’d fought for so long, and lied to themselves about how well things were going. Things were not going well. You could only mop up blood and bind wounds and apparate away from groups of ever-more Death Eaters for so long before you had to stop pretending you were winning. Voldemort had been a figure head. Yaxley, it turned out, was a much better strategical thinker. With Yaxley in charge, the bag guys were winning.

“Espionage has a long history of success,” Moody said. His arms were crossed and his false eye was twirling and spinning as it examined the room. Hermione wondered, not for the first time, if it could see through clothing. Was life one big peep-show to Mad-Eye? Did his magical vision stop at her brassiere, her skin, or could he see the blood pounding in her veins? Could he see the way her own fear sped her heart. Could he see the way she swallowed her hate?

“You mean whoring,” Ron said. “Let’s not dress this up with pretty words. What you’re asking her to do is fuck a monster for us.”

“He has an obsession, it would seem,” Moody said. “His mother calls it love.”

“Narcissa Malfoy could lie to the devil himself,” Ron said. He was just getting more heated. “Do you know how you can tell if a Malfoy is lying? Their lips are moving.”

“That’s old,” Harry said. He hadn’t moved from his chair since they’d passed Draco Malfoy’s proposal around the table. Safe passage for all of them to the continent in exchange for Hermione Granger. He promised she’d be treated well. He loved her.

Tell him no, and he’d relay their position to the power that be that night.

“Can you do it?” Harry asked her. Ongoing war had hardened him. He’d died twice already and didn’t have time for people who weren’t just as willing to sacrifice as he was.

“Pretend I love Malfoy?” Hermione asked. She shook her head. “Get intelligence out to you? Sure. No problem. But convince that tosser I don’t think he’s a filthy bottom-feeder?”

She didn’t bother to answer her own rhetorical question. They all knew she couldn’t manage it. She thought that would be the end of it, that they’d just fight their way out to another safe house, until Molly coughed. Everyone looked at her.

“I doubt he expects you to fall into his arms,” Molly said. Her hands were curled along the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles were white but she kept her voice calm. Her eyes betrayed her, though. She flicked her gaze from Ron to Ginny to George. Three of her surviving children, all in one room, all at risk. “He’ll expect to have to woo you.”

Hermione closed her eyes. She pictured Draco Malfoy, pointed, prejudiced, posh, and tried to imagine why he wanted her. She knew Molly was right. He was smart enough to know if she arrived claiming to have always loved him she’d be lying. He’d be planning on her hate. She could hear Ginny shift uncomfortably in one of the chairs. She’d been hit with a curse the week before, one that had left her paralyzed for four days. George still broke every mirror he found in fits of rage.

“I’m not very wooable,” Hermione said.

She opened her eyes and looked at Harry. How long would she last, she wondered, before he’d ruin her? How long until Stockholm Syndrome kicked in and she did something that looked like love him back?

“Be careful,“ Harry said. He knew she’d agreed.

“No,” Ron said, all rage. She reached a hand out to cup his cheek, ran her thumb along the jaw she’d slept next to for years. He swallowed and she brushed away the one tear he let escape. “Hermione, I’ll - ”

“Sooner or later I’ll be unreliable,” she said. She couldn’t let him make promises. Promises were things you broke. Promises were things that broke you. There’d been a lot of promises in this war. “Be careful with what I send you.”

Moody nodded brusquely. “He sent portkeys,” he said. “You use the main one, it turns on the rest so we can go to the continent.“ Before anyone could ask he added, "It’s keyed to you, Granger. Won’t work for a substitute. Already looked at it.”

“Smug bastard,” Ron said.

Hermione let him go, and picked up the box Moody slid across the table to her. Portkeys were usually junk. They were meant to be unremarkable. Not this one. When she opened the box a diamond tennis bracelet winked up at her.

“I hate him,” Ron said.

Hermione reached out and picked up Draco Malfoy’s bracelet.

chapter 2

Malfoy was waiting for her. He was dressed in all black, and quirked an eyebrow up at her arrival. She’d stumbled a bit when the portkey dropped her into what appeared to be a pointless, empty room with pointless, delicate furniture. When she found her footing she crossed her arms and glared at him. His immaculate perfection made her feel grubby. The losing side of a war didn’t offer the hot water amenities Malfoy Manor clearly did. They got moral righteousness and cold water baths taken on the run that left her feeling always a bit less than clean. She resented the feeling, and that made her even less happy to see him.

“Malfoy,” she said, not bothering to hide the venom in her tone. “You’re madly in love, I understand.”

“The heart is a mysterious thing,” he said. “Who can fathom its endless mysteries?”

That left her speechless. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d expected to see when she arrived here. Death Eaters ready to pounce, perhaps, or groping hands. Maybe sneering declarations of love. She certainly hadn’t expected an opaque man who seemed almost as unhappy to see her as she was to be here.

“You might want a shower,” he said. “Being a rebel appears to involve more dirt than my mother generally likes people tracking in.”

“Filth, you mean?” She couldn’t keep herself from talking. “Muggle-born filth?”

He just shrugged. “Would you like to see your suite?”

“I want to know the others got away,” she said. That was what this was about, after all. She wasn’t here for the amenities or the company. She was here to save them and to spy. She’d have to start making up to him in a bit but right now she could indulge in letting him see how she really felt. “Can you do that?”

“Of course.” He had the gall to sound gracious and accommodating and pointed her at the fireplace. “You may floo-call your hidey-hole, though I assume no one will answer, or you could try the Malfoy chateau in Switzerland. They should be there if they had the wit to follow instructions with reasonable speed.” The last was muttered and she could tell he half suspected they’d stay to fight.

She tossed in the powder, called out for the chateau, and waited. After a moment, Ron’s head appeared. She held back tears at the sight of him. Even outlined in flame he was everything she’d never have again. “You safe?” she asked. “Everything work the way he said it would?”

He nodded. “Moody has us clearing out of here tonight, but I said we needed to stay until you made contact.” She reached toward the fire, wishing she could touch him one last time, and then turned, furious, when Malfoy broke the connection and her last hope of Ron disappeared.

“Long connections can be traced,” he said. “If you want them alive, you’ll ensure that doesn’t happen.”

He stepped closer as he spoke and she could smell the aftershave he used. Something sharp and bitter. She didn’t like it. She began to step away but his hand moved quickly to slide along her lower back and hold her in place and she shuddered. So now it began, the cost of it all. He set his mouth at her ear and murmured, “Trust no one, Granger.”

She almost choked at that unexpected, unromantic warning. “Not even you?” she asked.

He released her and stepped away. “Would you care to see your suite now?”

“Does it have a lock?” she asked sourly.

The answer surprised her.

“Yes,” he said, then opened the door and waved her so she could precede him. She’d never seen these manners at Hogwarts. She’d never seen them in the rebellion either. She bit her lip hard enough to make it bleed and focused on the bitter truth that monsters could be gracious as she let him lead her through the lavishly appointed corridor, up a set of wide, carpeted stairs, down a narrowed but still impressive hallway until he set his hand on an ornate, brass doorknob. “Your new home,” he said, and opened the door.

The room had several chairs, a small desk, a table and copious bookshelves. What it didn’t have was a bed. She turned to look at Malfoy.

“I did say it was a suite,” he said. The condescension grated, as did his obvious enjoyment at getting to be quite so smug. He pointed over to a door set into one wall. “The bedroom and an en-suite are through there.”

“I won’t be sharing a room with you?” she asked. She meant the words to be sarcastic and biting and hated the way they came out with a bit of a quiver. She waited for him to pounce on that sign of fear and almost hated him more when he didn’t.

Worse, he looked, albeit only briefly, utterly disgusted.

“No,” he said. “I thought perhaps we should get to know one another. My deep and abiding love for you is such I can wait.”

She pulled her wand out and waved the door closed behind him. “But Malfoy,” she said, moving as close to him as she could stand just to see what he would do. “Love?”

“Are you really this dense?”

The words were murmured like a lover’s caress. His breath was hot on her neck and she could smell that he had brushed his teeth lately. To anyone watching the hand that slid up her back probably looked romantic. Now that she was paying attention, she could tell he wasn’t eager to feel her skin, or reach that hand around to feel curves he should, in theory, be lusting after. He could barely bring himself to touch her.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Your hidey-hole was discovered,” he said so softly she had to strain to hear him. “If the lot of you hadn’t left, you’d all be dead by morning.”

She could feel herself stiffen. “And this… charade?”

“I figured no one would believe I slipped you information out of the goodness of my heart.” She was pressed so closely to him now she could feel that heart pounding. “But a trade for a girl? Lust? You’d fall for that. Everyone would.”

“Why me?”

“I would have preferred the Weasley,” he said somewhat dryly.

Hermione would never have expected that confession to rankle. It did, though.

“I didn’t think they’d give her up,” he was going on. “So the pureblood was out, and that left you.”

“You thought none of them would care about me?” she asked.

“Obviously they didn’t.” Malfoy brushed his lips against her neck and added with so much cruelty she believed for the first time he was a Death Eater and not just a spoiled boy. “No one really cared enough about keeping you to argue that strongly against it. Not like they would have for their little Ginevra or even that Luna. You, Granger, were disposable to them.”

She shoved him away and kept herself from hunching over with the same force of will that had kept her fighting. “You’re a monster,” she said.

Something flickered in his eyes before he hid it. “Indeed. Do clean yourself up. I assume you’ll want the night to settle in. I’ll be up to join you for breakfast in my role of the loving and patient suitor. Perhaps we can take a walk in the gardens after. They’re very nice.”

“I hate you,” she said. She planned to sit on the floor of that shower and cry until she ran out of tears. Maybe she’d still be there when he arrived with toast, tea, and marmalade.

He leaned in for one more faux-kiss. “I’m not that fond of you, either,” he said. “I hope your side manages to win quickly with the information I’m sure you’ll find a way to send them so I can stop pretending.”

When he left she turned the lock and then huddled against the door, taking less comfort in the solid click of the latch than she would have expected. Maybe she’d just crumple to the floor and start crying right here.

#tiny ship drabbles and teasers #dramione #palisauraus

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marcusssanderson · 5 years

Text

Funny Inspirational Quotes Celebrating Life, Love, & Struggles

Looking for funny inspirational quotes and sayings for when you just need a laugh?

We all need to laugh more.

As they say, “laughter is the best form of medicine”.

While the doctor might not prescribe it, the ability to find humor in our situation is key for maintaining of sanity, patience, and peace of mind.

Believing in our future doesn’t have to be scary, and change doesn’t have to be painful.

You are allowed to have fun along the way!

Don’t hesitate to take it easy at times.

Smile at strangers, laugh at yourself, and know that you’re free to start over.

I received a request to post some funny inspirational quotes, so I went for it.

These funny inspirational quotes are pretty tame (around 5 – 10 schools have made me aware that they use my blog as a quote resource), but they will surely make you smile!

On our journey towards personal greatness, it’s important that we laugh at our setbacks, slip-ups, and blunders.

Why? That’s because plenty more are on the way.

To help you stay focused and stay loose, below is our collection of funny inspirational quotes, collected from a variety of sources over the years.

Have fun reading!

Funny inspirational quotes for work and life

1.) “I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific.” – Lily Tomlin

2.) “If at first you don’t succeed, then skydiving definitely isn’t for you.” – Steven Wright

3.) “I find television very educational. Every time someone turns it on, I go in the other room and read a book.” – Groucho Marx

4.) “All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence, and then success is sure.” – Mark Twain

5.) “If you don’t know where you are going, you might wind up someplace else.” – Yogi Berra

6.) “There never was a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him asleep.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

7.) “It took me fifteen years to discover I had no talent for writing, but I couldn’t give it up because by then I was too famous.” – Robert Benchley

8.) “Luck is what you have left over after you give 100 percent.” – Langston Coleman

9.) “Opportunity does not knock, it presents itself when you beat down the door.” – Kyle Chandler

10.) “Don’t worry about the world coming to an end today. It is already tomorrow in Australia.” – Charles Schulz

Funny inspirational quotes about life that will motivate you

11.) “I didn’t fail the test. I just found 100 ways to do it wrong.” – Benjamin Franklin

12.) “Life is a shipwreck but we must not forget tossing in the lifeboats.” – Voltaire

13.) “When I hear somebody sigh, Life is hard, I am always tempted to ask, ‘Compared to what?'” – Sydney Harris

14.) “The elevator to success is out of order. You’ll have to use the stairs… one step at a time.” – Joe Girard

15.) “The brain is a wonderful organ; it starts working the moment you get up in the morning, and does not stop until you get into the office.” – Robert Frost

16.) “We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.” – George Bernard Shaw

17.) “The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer somebody else up.” – Mark Twain

18.) “Age is of no importance unless you’re a cheese.” – Billie Burke

19.) “The minute you settle for less than you deserve, you get even less than you settled for.” – Maureen Dowd

20.) “It takes less time to do things right than to explain why you did it wrong.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Funny inspirational quotes about life and career

21.) “The key to success is not through achievement but through enthusiasm.” – Malcolm Forbes

22.) “I cannot afford to waste my time making money.” – Louis Agassiz

23.) “Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings.” – Robert Bloch

24.) “If you think you are too small to be effective, you have never been in the dark with a mosquito.” – Betty Reese

25.) “The difference between genius and stupidity is; genius has its limits.” – Albert Einstein

26.) “Always borrow money from a pessimist. He won’t expect it back.” – Oscar Wilde

27.) “When you do not know what you are doing and what you are doing is the best – that is inspiration.” – Robert Bresson

28.) “My therapist told me the way to achieve true inner peace is to finish what I start. So far I’ve finished two bags of M&Ms and a chocolate cake. I feel better already.” – Dave Barry

29.) “People say nothing is impossible, but I do nothing every day.” – A.A. Milne

30.) “It is not the answer that enlightens, but the question.” – Eugene Ionesco Decouvertes

Funny Inspirational quotes for life

31.) “Too much of a good thing can be wonderful.” – Mae West

32.) “Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.” – Thomas Edison

33.) “You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.” – Jack London

34.) “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go.” – Dr. Seuss

35.) “A diamond is merely a lump of coal that did well under pressure.” – Unknown

36.) “Never put off until tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow.” – Mark Twain

37.) “Life is like a sewer – what you get out of it depends on what you put into it.” – Tom Lehrer

38.) “Never let your sense of morals prevent you from doing what is right.” – Isaac Asimov

39.) “Failure is the condiment that gives success its flavor.” – Truman Capote

40.) “People often say that motivation doesn’t last. Well, neither does bathing; that’s why we recommend it daily.” – Zig Ziglar

Short funny quotes and sayings about work

41.) “If you’re going to be able to look back on something and laugh about it, you might as well laugh about it now.” – Marie Osmond

42.) “I have a simple philosophy: Fill what is empty. Empty what is full. Scratch where it itches.” – Alice Roosevelt Longworth

43.) “Even a stopped clock is right twice every day. After some years, it can boast of a long series of successes.” – Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach

44.) “You must learn from the mistakes of others. You can’t possibly live long enough to make them all yourself.” – Sam Levenson

45.) “Honest criticism is hard to take, particularly from a relative, a friend, an acquaintance, or a stranger.” – Franklin P. Jones

46.) “You can live to be a hundred if you give up all the things that make you want to live to be a hundred.” – Woody Allen

47.) “The more you weigh, the harder you are to kidnap. Stay safe. Eat cake.”

48.) “Dear life, when I said: ‘Can my day get any worse?’ It was rhetorical, not a challenge.”

49.) “Cleaning up is just putting stuff in less obvious places.”

50.) “It amazes me how much exercise and extra fires sound alike.”

More funny inspirational quotes and sayings

51.) “I want to be like a caterpillar. Eat a lot. Sleep for a while. Wake up beautiful.”

52.) “In m defense, I was left unsupervised.”

53.) “Taking naps sounds so childish. I prefer to call them horizontal life pauses.”

54.) I walk around like everything is fine. But deep down, inside my show, my sock is sliding off.”

55.) “It’s called Karma, and it’s pronounced, ‘Haha, f*** you ‘.”

56.) “If we’re not meant to have midnight snacks, why is there a light in the fridge?”

57.) “I think my guardian angel drinks.”

58.) “So it turns out that being an adult is really just Googling how to do stuff.”

59.) “I don’t think there will be enough coffee or middle fingers for this Monday.”

60.) “Don’t give up on your dreams. Keep sleeping!”

Funny inspirational quotes to motivate you

61.) Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work. – Thomas Eddison

62.) If you try to fail, and succeed, which have you done? – George Carli

63.) If you’re going to be thinking, you may as well think big. – Donald Trump

64.) My fake plants died because I did not pretend to water them. – Mitch Hedberg

65.) “You must pay for your sins. If you have already paid, please ignore this notice.” — Sam Levenson

66.) “It’s okay to look at the past and the future. Just don’t stare.” — Lisa Lieberman-Wang

67.) Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please. – Mark Twain

68.) “I have to be successful because I like expensive things.” — Lisa Lieberman-Wang

69.) “Hating people is like burning down your own home to get rid of a rat.” — Harry Emerson Fosdick

70.) I am blessed with a funny gene that makes me enjoy life. – Karan Patel

Funny inspirational quotes for everyone

71.) “Listen, smile, agree, and then do whatever you were gonna do anyway.“ – Robert Downey Jr.

72.) “Wisdom comes from experience. Experience is often a result of lack of wisdom.” – Terry Pratchett

73.) “The reason I talk to myself is because I’m the only one whose answers I accept.” – George Carlin

74.) “Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds.” – Albert Einstein

75.) “I figured something out. The future is unpredictable.” – John Green

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liturgyontheweekend · 6 years

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When Harry Became Sally: Chapter 3

This chapter highlights the stories of a selection of detransitioners.

p49–52: INTRO

Anderson introduces the chapter, saying that voices of detransitioners deserve to be heard, and he’s going to present several of their stories. I don’t disagree that these stories should be heard, and I do think it’s sad that some trans activists have sought to silence these stories. I don’t think the media has helped, by trying to pit the two marginalized groups against each other, and I hope that the trans community can come to terms with these stories in a more inclusive way and that non-trans folks like Anderson can see these stories not in opposition to folks that are actually trans.

After reading the chapter, I’m definitely noticing that he’s only highlighting one type of detransition story, which works against his claim that he wants to showcase marginalized voices. He chooses six people, all of whom transitioned and then detransitioned because the transition didn’t feel right and didn’t address their underlying problems. He doesn’t share any stories of people who detransitioned due to social or family pressures, who may or may not still identify as transgender, and he doesn’t share any stories of people who detransitioned and then retransitioned.

And the elephant in the room is that he doesn’t share any stories of people who view their transition as successful and are living well-adjusted lives as transgender individuals. I can’t imagine his readers wouldn’t benefit from hearing those stories as well.

I’ll write very little about each of these.

p52–56: CARI

Experienced dissociative disorder. Transitioned due to gender stereotypes. She’s a lesbian.

I think it’s very clear reading this story that the medical profession fails people at times. She received poor care, and was rushed into transition.

p56–58: MAX

Transitioned due to gender stereotypes. She’s a lesbian.

Anderson did not reach out to her, and her comments when she found out her story was used included: “I’m not OK with it…I was not informed.”

She transitioned because she didn’t understand how she could live as a lesbian woman due to societal structures around her. And Anderson mentions that she’s careful to not discount stories of those who have transitioned and found it to be the answer for them.

p59–62: CRASH

Transitioned due to gender stereotypes and underlying trauma. She’s a lesbian.

Anderson did not reach out to her, and her comments when she found out her story was used included: “enraged to see my story distorted and used…would never have agreed to be included in such a book.”

She transitioned, she says, because she was harassed for being a lesbian and because her mom died by suicide. I feel like this story also highlights the need for better mental health care and perhaps a more cautious, measured approach to transition.

p62–66: TWT

Transitioned due to trauma. Experienced dissociative disorder.

Anderson did not reach out to him, and his comments when he found out his story was used included: “unaware my story was used to promote a political agenda…this happens a lot and it is not my intention.”

Another one which implicates bad doctors. No argument from me that we should have more good doctors and more comprehensive, high-quality health care.

While transitioned, he experienced much anti-trans discrimination.

p67–68: CAREY CALLAHAN

Transitioned due to trauma. Experienced dissociative disorder. Based on my reading elsewhere, I think she’s a lesbian.

Anderson did not reach out to her, and her comments when she found out her story was used included: “upset to be used as a rhetorical device by someone who does not respect me…enough to contact me.”

She questions young transition ages, since she got it wrong in her thirties. Anderson doesn’t share much of her story, but she appears to have been dissociative and hated her body. Her writings now are focused on hearing stories of detransitioners and responding to trans activists who try to shut them down.

p69–72: WALT HEYER

Transitioned due to significant childhood abuse. Experienced dissociative disorder.

Walt appeared on Christopher Cantwell’s podcast recently. Cantwell is a white supremacist who was part of the Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville, and said “we’ll f****** kill these people if we have to.”

I have very little to say to anyone who’s running in these circles. He should have had psychotherapy. He also shouldn't suggest that what was right for him is right for everyone.

p72–76: WRAPUP

The chapter title is “Detransitioners Tell Their Stories” but this is really Anderson telling their stories. He didn’t ask at least four of the six people if he could use their stories, and therefore they weren’t allowed to weigh in on whether his was a fair account. This is, at minimum, irresponsible journalism.

The only point he’s really made is that transitioning isn’t the solution to every problem. He admits that in the first sentence of this section, and then goes on to make an absolute claim, saying “trying to align the body with a transgender identity does not resolve the deep issues…” He needed to add “for these six people,” since there are myriad stories of people for whom it has resolved their deep issues.

On page 73, he again misrepresents the Swedish study which doesn’t say what he wants it to say. This time, it’s tough to say it’s not just a blatant lie. The study found that for those who transitioned post-1989, their rates of mortality, suicide, and crime are in line with the general population. I already talked about this in the Introduction email.

If we know that transgender people overall have a higher suicide rate than the general population, and there’s a Swedish study that Anderson seems to like which says that those who transitioned post-1989 have a rate in line with the general population, the only reasonable conclusion is that transitioning was helpful to these people, not harmful. Why does he keep saying the opposite?

He ends the chapter by quoting most of an open letter from Crash, who detransitioned and is lesbian, to Julia Serano, a transgender activist who she believes has misrepresented and been unfair to detransitioners. This is a heartfelt letter, and I did go read it in its entirety.

At the end of her letter, she openly acknowledges trans people, and also that she is not. She notes of those who eventually detransition: “so many of them are lesbian [and it’s] common for them to question whether they are really female.”

Anderson could start by working for an world in which folks like Crash feel validated and accepted for who they are, with full recognition and human rights, which would keep many lesbians like Crash from wondering whether they are really female and whether transitioning is the solution to their problems.

POSTSCRIPT

Finally, I took a look at the 2015 Transgender Survey, to find out more about detransitioning. 8% of over 27,000 respondents had detransitioned at some point in their lives, but 62% of those were currently living in a gender other than that assigned at birth. So we're in the 3–4% range for permanent detransitioning, since many detransition temporarily for some other societal reason. Only 5% of those who detransitioned did it because it wasn't right for them. 36% detransitioned because of pressure from a parent, 26% because of pressure from other family members, 18% due to pressure from a partner, 31% because of harassment, and 29% because of having trouble getting a job. (Respondents could cite multiple reasons, so the totals are greater than 100%). So a total of 0.4% of respondents to the survey detransitioned because transition wasn't right for them.

https://transequality.org/sites/default/files/docs/usts/USTS-Full-Report-Dec17.pdf

The small number of folks (less than half a percent) who actually detransition because they made a mistake DOES NOT invalidate or lessen the importance of their stories. They should be heard, and transgender folks need to engage with them. We should also do more to ensure that we create a safe world for gender-nonconforming and LGB people such that fewer people like Crash transition for the wrong reasons.

Folks like Anderson also shouldn't appropriate detransitioners' stories to attempt to build a case that nobody should ever transition; clearly there are lots of stories he's not telling from the remaining 99.6%.

FOLLOW-UP

I received a response which I then responded to; I can’t print the response but I’ll print my follow-up:

My overall point was that his selection of people to profile is limited. These weren't transgender people; they were people with psychological issues who tried to solve them in a misguided way and for a time believed themselves to be transgender. You can't select a non-representative sample of people (non-transgender people who transitioned), note their psychological problems, and then post-rationalize your conclusions onto another group of people (actual transgender people). Your comment about whether or not those issues "exist within the larger community" is exactly my point -- Anderson doesn't know because he doesn't bother to ask. Probably because he knows what that would do to his argument. Obviously, then, we disagree about his political purposes. Minor point, also, but nobody ever claims that transitioning will alter chromosomal makeup, so I think we all agree there. Anderson, to this point in the book, has not spoken with a single transgender person! I'll eat my hat if he does anywhere in the book; my guess is he'll continue his current trajectory. If he were truly trying to engage the subject rather than pushing a preconceived position, he'd spend some time with folks in the community he's writing about.

I also don't see any evidence based on what you sent over that R.B. is transgender. Unless you've got data to the contrary, you're pushing the same strawman argument that Anderson is. She may fall into that 80% percent of Zucker's research, people who show some nonconformity in childhood but aren't transgender, and end up settling into a straight or LGB+ identity. People who are straight/gay living lives as straight/gay people do not invalidate people who are transgender, and my issue here is that Anderson doesn't interview or profile any of the large number of actual transgender people who do not regret their transitions.

I know some of them, and can assure you they are nothing like the detransitioners that Anderson highlights.

SUMMARY OF MY POINT: Profiling non-transgender people to make claims about transgender people is a strawman. Detransitioners' stories are important for their own sake, not for the sake of an argument that doesn't make sense and that they don't want to be a part of.

#when harry became sally #lgbt

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marcusssanderson · 5 years

Text

Funny inspirational quotes about life, love, and struggles

Looking for funny inspirational quotes and sayings when you just need a laugh?

We all need to laugh more.

As they say, “laughter is the best form of medicine”.

While the doctor might not prescribe it, the ability to find humor in our situation is key for maintaining of sanity, patience, and peace of mind.

Believing in our future doesn’t have to be scary, and change doesn’t have to be painful.

You are allowed to have fun along the way!

Don’t hesitate to take it easy at times.

Smile at strangers, laugh at yourself, and know that you’re free to start over.

I received a request to post some funny inspirational quotes, so I went for it.

These funny inspirational quotes are pretty tame (around 5 – 10 schools have made me aware that they use my blog as a quote resource), but they will surely make you smile!

On our journey towards personal greatness, it’s important that we laugh at our setbacks, slip-ups, and blunders.

Why? That’s because plenty more are on the way.

Hopefully, these funny inspirational quotes help us stay focused and stay loose.

Keep them close to help make your journey through life more pleasurable.