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sepublic · 1 year

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The Owl House is about many, many things. It’s about neurodivergence, weirdness, not fitting in and being left out. It’s about finding a community of others like you. It’s about being your own person, but also wanting to be a part of something, and balancing these seemingly paradoxical things. It’s about how everyone is alike and similar to each other, but also each person is wholly unique and irreplaceable.

Everyone has their own story, we all think we’re special or more better in some way than the rest. There is no destiny, but people have the power to choose and decide for themselves. We can all mess up and do something wrong, but what truly prevents us from getting better isn’t circumstance, it’s the refusal to improve; Just deciding to do so and taking that first step forward is all you need to begin.

It’s about disability, about not fitting up to a certain standard and that’s okay, even if you’d also like to do that. It’s knowing what you’re good at and discovering that, and it not having to fit other people’s definitions of what’s meaningful. It’s about learning and loving and doing things for their own sake, not as a means to an end, it’s about the value of art and how it makes us humans.

We have powerful relationships with stories. They can heal us, inspire us, motivate us. But they can cloud and delude people, set them down paths of arrogance and solipsism. Stories mean a lot, especially to the neurodivergent, to those who fit in, and it can be seen as cringey or too much, too overwhelming, but no those feelings are valid, even if people must be responsible about how they express them. Stories can do so much for us, but they aren’t everything either; Reality is just as important and necessary to engage with.

It’s about different ways of thinking and learning, of doing things, and how they’re all valid. Different existences, diversity, a wide variety of experiences, and how could you want to make the world smaller by making it more monotonous? But you must approach differences with respect and understanding, it’s exciting to engage in something new, but you must be the difference between a colonizer and an immigrant. It’s a defiance to conformity but a reminder to mind others around you. Be kind, for even if others take it for granted, compassion does well in the long run.

Sometimes kindness won’t work for some people, but ultimately we must counter Christian ideas of retributive justice, guilt, and punishment in order to prioritize healing and rehabilitation. Restorative justice is what will build the world back up, let it heal. There is no fate, no greater God or will, it’s just people interacting together, sometimes trapping themselves in a cycle of their own making, but still people.

People aren’t above nature, nor are they separate; Do not seek to control or tame others, be it that you don’t understand and assume foreign, or those you do notice commonality. You can’t make people do things, only yourself, but you can give them the freedom and support to decide better. Forgiveness is not mandatory either, if you truly want to do better. You are not the hero and that’s why you can forgive yourself for not fixing everything on your own.

Co-exist with nature, with different things and their own ways of existing, instead of trying to justify them as a natural resource to exploit. It’s about environmentalism, sowing seeds for more to come, instead of just taking. It’s about a cycle of kindness where you put things in and hope what comes out, the next generation, does even better for you; Rather than a cycle of pain where you spread and project that, and refuse to acknowledge people for who they are.

It’s about people overlooked in real life; People of color, the queer, the neurodivergent. It’s about non-conventional family structures, found family; The bonds we make and choose, because things don’t have to be given to us at the start of life. We can earn and build it for ourselves just as much, if necessary.

There’s perception, learning to trust in your own abilities and those of others. Learning to be positive about your body and its appearance and alleged shortcomings. It’s about seeing people for they are as a whole, not something you whittle and simplify them down into. Parents want the best for their children, but they were children once and are just as flawed and messy as the rest of us.

Accept change, accept things even if they’re bad, like death or disabilities, because sometimes you just have to learn to live with it. You can’t hide in an insincere fantasy, hollow and bereft of substance; Make real connections and experiences. But you can also strive for things to be better, and you can recover. Wounds heal, even if scars might linger.

Chance can cause anything, you can never be too certain about what comes your way, how people will impact you, and you’ll impact them. It’s how people live beyond death through the influence of their actions, and that is more alive than any failed resurrection or clone. Give freely, just because others suffer less than you, doesn’t mean they should suffer at all. Be the change you want to be, take initiative.

People wander around, searching for homes. People are cast out or lost, but find new places to belong. Nobody deserves to be in a cage, nor lost. We’re all seeking for those connections, pre-existing or to be made. Some places you won’t fit in, some people won’t accept or be interested, and that’s okay because there’s always someone out there.

It’s about wanting to be special but also understood, for people to see and learn about you in good faith, to give you the time of day. It’s reciprocal love, about healthy boundaries in relationships. You are more than what you do for others, and locking them out to deny your pain will only hurt them in the long run, too; To love yourself is to love others. It’s okay to be selfish and even angry, it doesn’t have to come at the expense of others, and sometimes you have to prioritize yourself over those who do you harm. Wanting things isn’t inherently harmful to others and can co-exist with wanting things for others too.

Think critically, question what you’re told, come to your own conclusions. Defy binaries, things aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive nor paradoxical. Don’t settle for singular choices, it’s the fine yet real line between indecisiveness and openness. Let people try new things while giving them the space and support to back out or change their mind. Friendships exist between generations, among them, kids deserve to have other kids as their friends, and mentors.

It’s about how the loss of a parent leaves you alone and grieving. Wondering about them. How they can impart a final gift onto you, something to revolve your whole life around because it’s your world and it’s them. Grief can manifest into betrayal over feeling abandoned; Or a desire to honor and live in their name. It’s hard to say goodbye and find the right words, language can affirm so much.

It’s about the ordeals of growing up and coming of age, realizing how terrible or difficult things can be, but confronting that instead of retreating to emerge stronger. History changes but also repeats itself, the cycle renews.

Fiction and reality have a divide, but they can intersect, or invade one another. It’s about making things real, while recognizing when they aren’t. But fantasy is an example of what could be, and that’s the hope that inspires a kid to keep moving forward. People deserve a chance and that’s why judgment should be reserved, as we’re all still making mistakes and learning.

It’s about connecting with the world around you, both the people and the place itself, and loving and understanding them both for who and what they are. It’s about finding a home, which can be many things, as long as it makes you feel like you belong. That’s why it’s called The Owl House.

#the owl house #themes

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gretchensinister · 3 years

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In Which I Write About August

August preoccupies me with thoughts of itself. It is and is-not. It is summer’s poltergeist.

Inside air-conditioned stores, pumpkins and ghosts and skeletons are taking up residence. Back-to-school has already happened. Outside, the implacable heat of summer wraps around my limbs. It will not be hurried on. It is not waving a tender farewell. It is the climax of summer and not the denouement.

Under the bright blue sky I melt, I burn, and August says, you always forget it feels like this.

It is a queer month. It is so much, and yet, what is it? On calendars, the month of August always seemed to be given some peculiar afterthought of a picture. June is iconic summer, July (here in America) can claim more-or-less overt independence day imagery, and then—then there is August. It’s literally back-to-school month, but such imagery belongs to September and is unlikely to be relinquished. I have seen sailboats given to August more than once, and this was always a mystery to me.

August feels…unwatched. Mid-month, students go back to school, and the spaces occupied by children in the summer can now be filled by other things. The heat keeps many others indoors, and outside, under the sun, the green things keep growing. It is not the tender riot of earlier months. August is a month of giants, of flowers that seem to appear huge and baffling overnight. Previously tame yards and beds overflow with towering blooms and I think, can that really grow here?

Can that really grow here? There is no denying it. And then the gardens, the fields! Stand back, they say, stand back. Now is neither the time for control nor killing. Our excess will be welcomed when it is time for the harvest—but what am I writing? The gardens and fields know nothing of harvest. I know of harvest, and I know that excess now is essential to life later. The plants know that now is the time to grow tall, for fruit to grow heavy and massive. There is so much life in August, even if the grass crunches a little more than it bends, even if there’s more gold and that pale ghost brown among the green. Harvest and all its deaths are for later.

Yet August is not without its darkness, without certain hints that make the jack-o-lanterns in the stores seem not quite so premature. Night’s tide has been flowing back since the solstice in June, true, but in July it was so very far out, still. The light still lingered. It was possible to get lost in a day and have gloaming not yet begun when you found yourself again. In August there is a change. The dominion of heat and light cannot be denied; summer’s potency has yet to ebb, and yet darkness is given its share of each day. The light does not linger as it did. If you get lost in an August day, bewildered by the heat or blinded by the sunshine, it is more likely than not that your equilibrium will only be regained (if it is regained) upon the sun leaving the stage for the day. September holds the equinox. August is part of the same balancing act of light and dark as October. The side with more light, but it is a dance again, not the unchallenged rout of July.

And when there’s a place for the dark again, there’s a place for monsters again. I think in August the monsters are sleepy, just waking up from hibernation, from non-existence, from wherever they were before the year turned again and spaces opened up for them once more, under trees and in the forgotten corners of cities and in minds that simply do not do all their work in the day.

I have an impulse to clarify what I mean by monsters, here, and I don’t know if I should give into it, or if I do, if I will be successful. Am I talking about actual creatures, hairy and scaly and with mouths full of teeth? Not really, though I would expect such things to appear more frequently in August than in June. But neither am I talking of only the ideas of such things.

The reality of August and the reality of monsters are both questionable. Life and work seem to go on as usual, the children are contained again, but outside is the kind of heat that people write about when they want to write about the heat driving someone crazy. And even when the heat mellows in the ever-growing night, that’s just another opportunity for unreality. It discourages sleep, draws people out of doors toward—what? There shouldn’t be anything in the night that wasn’t there in the day, and yet there is. There’s something. It’s tempting, it’s frightening, it may be the person who went outside in the night heat to begin with. It may be a monster.

At this point I think you may need to be me to completely understand what I’m talking about when I talk about monsters. That’s all right. Ambiguity is one of the tells of my monsters.

Why do I go on so about this month, this heat, the darkness that may or may not contain monsters? I was born in August, so I suppose that could excuse my mythologizing of it, but I don’t think this impulse needs any excuse. If you’ve lived through the Augusts I’ve described, how could they not take on a little mythologizing? The Augusts I’ve lived through have all been strange days, days where sometimes the heat rippling from the tops of cars is the only movement, nights where the month moves along in a sudden, disorienting lurch. What happened? What happened?

August is a time of waiting and a time of now. What I am waiting for, and what becomes manifest, comes from the sky.

Burning blue skies are not August’s only heavenly face. The ephemeral mountains of thunderheads billow into August days and they make me feel like angels should, like dragons should. Between the first note of petrichor in the air and the irresistible downpour, there will only be a few breaths. I take deep ones. There is so little to be done in an August storm, so little that needs doing. The warm water comes freely, powerfully, and the thunder with it is joy, always joy, the terrifying joy of the uncontrollable. But the joy echoes like the thunder itself. I know I don’t stop myself from laughing when the storm passes on, leaving me drenched and blinking rain out of my eyelashes under the sudden return of the sun. Am I supposed to just go on with my day after that? But I do, because it is an August day, and I cannot expect events to proceed in a way that helps me maintain my equilibrium.

But the last thing I want to say about August and its skies are the times when the rain does not come, when the ever-earlier night has settled in, with vast clouds concealing any alleviating moon or stars. Breathless nights, they are, and they hold what to me is the quintessential August light, even beyond the overwhelming day. I speak of heat lightning, those two words holding so much of August’s strange power. I admit I do not know if heat lightning is a true phenomenon, where the heat of the day engenders spontaneous lightning (without the partner of a rainstorm) at night. But heat lightning is what those distant flashes were named to me when I was small, and so those words have rung in my head ever since. Heat lightning. Always far away. The thunder it causes faint and low, if it can be heard at all. Uncanny. Sublime. An unfulfilled promise of rain, a fulfilled promise of wonder in the dark. Heat lightning. I want to bottle it in my August-born heart.

Maybe the wanting means I have.

Or maybe it just makes me a monster.

#august #rambling

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swampgh0stt · 4 years

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Alright, so we’re doing this again.

No, ASL does not fall under any definition of incest. I’m sorry, but it does not. None of the boys share blood & none of the boys have ever been adopted into each other’s families. All they have between them is childhood promises of brotherhood over a cup of sake each.

Non-blood incest would include shipping between Sabo & Stelly.

ASL shipping is friends-to-lovers. That’s it. Children call each other their siblings all the time, because they don’t usually have a nuanced concept of love- especially in regards to rampant homophobia & how quick they are to deny the existence of same sex couples as nothing more than “just friends,” or even have the idea of siblinghood forced on them. It’s happened to me.

Ace & Luffy do have official couples merch, & Oda has already given fans his blessing to go with whatever interpretation we want of his characters.

& if you’re going to insist on filing it under non-blood incest, then you cannot decide to move the goal post when it comes to Ace & the Whitebeard fleet either. They call themselves family as well. You do not get to pick & choose when it applies.

We see your hypocrisy.

I won’t get into the sanitization of queer spaces in regards to flushing out nsfw content “for the children” as that’s just... way too long, but when you start policing what you deem acceptable in fanworks especially? We have a problem.

Running a fandom blog “for the fans” is hard & requires a lot of maturity for true inclusion. You can’t just leave out the very specific “Some discrimination will apply” until something like this happens either. You’re not running a fandom blog anymore. You’re running a clique blog. A popularity circle.

People don’t have to agree on everything either, I’m not preaching for that. But you want to run a space for fans, you need to be inclusive & not discriminatory. I can’t run a fandom blog for that reason; I don’t like a lot of content, I can’t find myself promoting it either.

That’s why I don’t run fandom-centric blogs.

Some content creators are trying their best, & nsfw creators always get shafted & are constantly losing their spaces in fandom. This affects marginalized people first before anyone else.

That is all I will really get into on that subject though.

It is not, & never will be okay to send death threats to people however. I will never condone it & it’s actually illegal. But you can’t pretend you’re trying to create a safe space for people who I have known first hand to be particularly violent as well.

Anything between death threats like this, blatant racism, dehumanizing- I’ve seen a popular artist get away with saying ASL shippers have brainworms & say violent things like wanting to bash out their kneecaps. This person gets reblogged constantly. People just let them get away with mistreating other fans.

It’s not okay.

All this over fictional characters too.

One Piece fandom is way too big already, there will always be a group, a ship, fanworks you don’t like. It’s too large of a beast to tame & honestly? Not your right to police when the creator has given his blessing already.

Cater your own spaces, but do not try & police others.

#acelu #sabolu #saboace #portgas d. ace #monkey d. luffy #one piece #sabo #optext #one piece fandom #hate is not activism #hateisnotactivism #proship #proshipping

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justatiredghost · 5 years

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Fixes to the Timeline ch3

Five successfully brought Dave to the future to reunite with Klaus, but there’s a lot they are going to have to deal with. It’s a big change for both of them and it’s enough to test any relationship.

“You know,” Dave said, wandering around the edges of the room, examining the decor as well as the drawings and writings on the walls. “I don’t know what I expected your room to look like but this is so incredibly you that I don’t think I ever would have been able to guess.”

“What can I say,” Klaus said from where he sat cross legged on the bed, reapplying his eyeliner. “It didn’t take dad long to realize he couldn’t make me stop writing on the walls and then I had free reign. Also, I may have convinced him that some of it was me trying to work out my powers. He bought it way too quickly.”

Klaus winked at him. Dave mirrored his grin before approaching, lying across the bed and propping himself up on one elbow so he could watch him applying his makeup, a fond dopey grin on his face.

“I always loved it when you got to do that when we were on leave,” he said.

“Nice to know you appreciate my work,” Klaus said.

Back then, he had always been tempted to wear makeup more often than that. He never had been any good at being subtle so, really, makeup was the least queer thing about himself and he wasn’t sure it really would have made much of a difference. In the end, he decided not to push his luck more than he already was, especially since it might put Dave at risk alongside him.

Klaus wouldn’t exactly say the present was all that safer, though. It still held its dangers, he knew that better than most. But at least here he knew the venues and areas of town that were more queer friendly, where they might even be able to hold hands without being harassed. Dave had never had anything like that growing up and Klaus wanted him to have the opportunity to experience it. If he wanted to, of course. But Dave had always been interested whenever he had shared stories of his experiences in the past so now was as good a time as any to broach the subject.

“Maybe one day I’ll even do yours,” he added, still focused on the little mirror in his hand, hoping it sounded casual and non committal in case he wasn’t ready.

“Yeah,” Dave said after only a moment of hesitation. “I think I’d like that.”

Klaus couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face. Maybe it wouldn’t be tomorrow or the day after, but Dave at least had a little more freedom now to explore his identity and to truly be himself and Klaus would be all too happy to encourage and support him every step of the way.

“This sounds like the perfect time to show you my closet,” Klaus said excitedly, setting his supplies aside before unfolding his legs and springing to his feet. “You’ve seen some of my choices in clothing so I doubt any of it will really surprise you.”

“Well where’s the fun in that?” Dave asked, chuckling.

“A challenge! I like it.”

Most of Klaus’ clothes were in a pile near the closet, he’d long since given up trying to put it away. He let Dave poke around while he chose something for himself. Despite his words, he decided to keep things relatively normal, sticking with a colorful top and a skirt. A black skirt, of course. There was always a little goth in everything he wore. Once he was dressed, he struck a pose.

“Wow,” Dave said, putting down the shirt he’d been examining. “You look amazing.”

“Of course I do,” Klaus winked at him. “Do you want to try something on?”

Dave looked down at the plain black shirt and pajama pants he was currently wearing, borrowed from Diego.

“Why not? No offence to your brother but I am not digging this. Pick something out for me?

“It’s a shame my leather pants won’t fit you, you’d look amazing in them,” Klaus said, stroking his chin in concentration. “I think, for now, let's start with something a little more tame. You can work up to the fun stuff.”

He dug around a bit before handing Dave a loose green shirt with pretty embroidery with the v neck laced up. There was also a pair of jeans he’d stolen from his brother that thankfully fit.

“Not bad, not bad,” Dave said, examining himself in the mirror with a satisfied nod.

“Thought you’d like it. Now come on, let’s get this tour started!”

Being back in Dave’s presence, falling back into their dynamic as they talked and laughed, it was so easy to forget his fears and concerns, because the only thing he wanted to think about was Dave, alive and here. They were away from that godforsaken war and they had a second chance. But Klaus had to rein himself in, this was Dave’s first day back, after all.

He knew better than most how disorienting it could be, going from war to 2019, but he’d had the luxury of coming home. Dave didn’t have that and he wasn’t sure how he’d handle all of this. They just needed to take things slow, give him time to adjust. He just desperately wanted to avoid overloading him. That was probably a good call because Dave was staring open-mouthed at everything as Klaus showed him around the Hargreeves family home.

“I still can’t believe you grew up here,” Dave said. “When I look at you, I think of blanket forts and sunlight, not all of this.”

“Forts, yes. Mansions, definitely no,” Klaus said.

He had the sudden urge to continue, to specify that, really, grimy alleys and condemned buildings were more his speed. Dave already knew some of his past but didn’t know that he’d spent more of his life on the streets than not, but perhaps it was best not to get into that right now. Dave didn’t need to find out how much of a failure he was the first day here. Instead, Klaus grabbed Dave’s hand and tugged him into a nearby room, plastering a smile on his face.

“And this was dear old papa’s office. It’s not very interesting, I just like coming in here because he’s not around to stop me anymore.”

“You sure?” Dave asked, staring up at his domineering portrait of Reginald Hargreeves behind his desk. “I feel like he’s judging us. Look, his eyes even follow you when you move.”

“I know, right? Creepy. Who even keeps a portrait of themself in their own office, anyway? Did he not want to forget what he looked like?”

“Get a mirror like the rest of us,” Dave said to the portrait.

“I don’t know about that,” Klaus said. “A giant mirror might actually be even creepier.”

They wandered around the house for a while longer, it’s empty halls making the place feel even larger. Klaus preferred it when his siblings were around, filling the space and making it seem more like a home. So instead he rambled aimlessly about anything he could think of, filling the space with his own voice instead, Dave occasionally interjecting with jokes or comments, but mostly just taking it all in. Klaus had already told him a lot about his childhood, but there was still plenty he didn’t know.

They were near the kitchen when Klaus noticed a pained expression flit across Dave’s face.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, taking his arm.

“Yeah,” Dave said. When it became obvious Klaus wasn’t going to drop it, he continued. “I don’t suppose you have any painkillers or anything?”

“Oh, yeah, hang on,” Klaus said, sprinting off down the hall, too quickly for Dave to follow. “Don’t go anywhere!” he called back over his shoulder.

Dave stood awkwardly, not really sure what to do. The place was like a museum, he felt like someone might come out of nowhere to yell at him if he tried to sit down or touch anything. He was contemplating a chair when a door opened and he flinched back away from the chair guilty.

It turned out to be a pleasant-looking woman with a friendly smile. Not exactly what Dave had expected, but at least he wasn’t likely to get yelled at. Then he panicked a bit, wondering who here actually knew about him.

“Ah, you must be Dave,” she said to his relief. No awkward explanation needed then. “I’m Grace. How are you doing, dear? Need anything?”

“Oh, no, thank you ma’am. I’m fine.”

“Well, just let me know. It’s lovely to finally meet you,” she said and Dave waved nervously as she headed towards the kitchen, leaving him to contemplate the chair again.

He was reaching out for the chair when this time the front door opened and he tried his best not to look guilty. A man clad all in black entered; much more intimidating than Grace. The moment his eyes landed on Dave, he stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

“Oh, well you see, I—” Dave began, stumbling over his words.

“Hello, Diego, dear,” Grace said, smiling at them from the other room as she began cooking.

As if he couldn’t be bothered, Diego waved Dave away, looking uninterested.

“Nevermind,” he said as he headed for the kitchen. “I don’t actually care.”

“Now Diego, be nice to Klaus’ boyfriend,” Grace called, surprising Dave.

He knew Klaus had told his family about their relationship, but somehow he still hadn’t expected to hear anyone say it so plainly. It was nice. Until he noticed Diego studying him critically, sizing him up as if trying to decide if he was worthy of being here or not.

“You’re dating my brother?” he said, somehow making the question sound like a threat.

Thankfully Five entered next. Where were all these people coming from all of a sudden? Five was kind of terrifying too but at least it was a familiar face.

“Five, Klaus brought some stranger home,” Diego said.

“Actually I was the one who brought him here,” Five said, barely glancing up as he accepted a cup of coffee from Grace and sat down at the table.

“What?” Diego snapped.

“Good morning by the way,” Five said to Dave. “Good to see you haven’t died on us again, I might not want to help next time.”

“Morning!” Dave said cheerily before adding to Diego, “I’ve known him for a couple weeks now and I still have no idea how to tell when he’s joking.”

“I’m not,” Five said without looking up and Dave laughed nervously.

“Weeks? There’s no way you’ve been here for weeks, I would have noticed,” Diego said, approaching Dave and suddenly there was a knife in his hand. Where had that even come from? Klaus had mention the knives but somehow he thought he’d been exaggerating. Apparently he was not.

“Maybe I’m very sneaky?” Dave suggested, hoping his voice didn’t sound as panicked as he felt. He knew he shouldn’t be making jokes but he couldn’t help it. It was a reflex.

“Don’t,” Diego said, pointing the knife at him.

“He’s been with me,” Five said. “I saved his life and brought him here to the present last night. Diego, this is Dave.”

“Wait, the Dave?” Diego said, looking back at Five in surprise.

“I have an article in front of my name?” Dave asked excitedly. “That sounds important! Has Klaus been talking about me? What did he say?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Diego asked.

“Yeah, but I got better. Thanks to Five, that is,” Dave added quickly, glancing over at him. Five seemed completely uninterested in the conversation.

“I got it, I got it,” they heard Klaus call as he came running down the hallway, bottle of aspirin in hand. He was barefoot but slid to a stop on a rug, looking like it was something he did often. “Diego, hi! I see you’ve met Dave.”

Klaus’ hand twitches imperceptibly, no doubt him stopping himself from reaching out to take his hand. Dave had grown used to keeping their relationship a secret. They’d talked about this, about public displays of affection, and he was grateful that Klaus was willing to go at his pace, but Dave was feeling brave. Pushing down the reflexive panic, he reached out and took Klaus’ hand, shooting him a grin as he did so. Klaus squeezes his hand and smiled back, looking so incredibly fond.

“I didn’t know this was happening, why didn’t anyone tell me?” Diego said, looking between all of them, arms out, demanding answers.

“None of us did,” Klaus said. “Five just turned up with him.”

“I’m terribly sorry, I’ll be sure to hold a family meeting the next time I want to save one of your asses,” Five said sarcastically.

Dave wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, but the statement seemed to imply that Dave was one of them now. Apparently Klaus caught that as well because there was no missing the swell of affection and pride and appreciation in his eyes.

“I’m happy for you, bro,” Diego said to Klaus, before adding to Dave, “and if you hurt my brother I’ll kill you.”

Normally Dave would assume anyone giving that sort of threat was exaggerating but Klaus’ family was particularly terrifying and he didn’t doubt it in the least.

“Hey, no threatening my boyfriend,” Klaus said. “He just came back from the dead so you have to be nice to him.”

“For how long?” Diego asked.

“I don’t know, I kinda feel like that’s something he can use as an excuse for a long time. ‘Can I have the last pancake? I died so I deserve it.’”

“What a great way to get out of chores too,” Dave said.

“Oh no, I’ve created a monster!”

They were back to exploring the house when Dave eventually asked for something to drink and a rest. Klaus knew they should have been taking things easy but despite his careful movement Dave seemed like his usual self and it had been so easy to forget. Scolding himself internally, he ran to get a glass of water. By the time he returned, Dave was sitting on the couch, staring off into the middle distance with a glazed look in his eyes.

“Dave?” Klaus tried, voice cautious.

When he didn’t respond, Klaus reached out to gently touch his shoulder, but recoiled almost immediately when Dave flinched away. He looked up, confusion and fear in his eyes, until he saw Klaus and visibly relaxed.

“Klaus,” he said with a relieved sigh. “Sorry about that, spacing out I guess.”

Klaus was tempted to let him have this, to play along and turn the conversation in a happier direction, make him laugh. He wasn’t sure that would actually help, though, so he resisted the urge. He knew he was bad at this, at saying the right thing and comforting other people. But he had to try. Hesitantly, he reached out again and this time Dave leaned towards him, welcoming the touch.

“Flashbacks?” Klaus asked.

“Yeah,” Dave said, looking down at his hands as he twisted them together fretfully.

“Good times, am I right?” Klaus said, sitting beside him and elbowing him gently.

“Oh yeah,” Dave said with a shaky laugh, leaning into Klaus as he wrapped his arm around him. He let his eyes fall closed and sighed before continuing. “I keep thinking I’m gonna wake up and be back there.”

“I’m legally obligated to tell you if I’m just part of your dream, otherwise it’s entrapment,” Klaus said, hoping to lighten things at least a little. There was a long pause before he continued. “I don’t know the best way to deal with any of this. I think my track record shows how bad I am at coping with, well, pretty much everything. But I’m here, if you want to talk, or if you need a distraction.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dave said. He took Klaus’ free hand and brought it up to place a kiss to his palm.

“I’m glad you’re here too,” Klaus said, leaning his forehead against Dave’s.

“Fuck,” Dave said suddenly, pulling away enough to see Klaus’ face. “I wasn’t here. You had to go through all of this alone. Fuck, Klaus, I’m so sorry.”

“You were kinda dead,” Klaus chuckled.

“Still,” Dave insisted. “I wish I could have been there for you.”

“If you promise to stop dying on me I guess I can forgive you. But you’re on thin fucking ice.”

That at least got a smile out of Dave. They sat together for a time, until Dave let out a huge yawn and they decided to make their way to bed a bit early tonight. But he looked so tired that Klaus couldn’t help but hover in a way that was probably obnoxious. Dave moved sluggishly and Klaus was terrified he’d worn him out too much.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked for the twentieth time.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just tired,” Dave said, smiling at him no doubt in an attempt to put him at ease.

“Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have dragged you all over the house,” Klaus said.

“It’s fine really, I wanted to,” Dave said. “And if you’d tried to talk me into going back to bed I probably would have thrown a tantrum.”

Klaus knew he was exaggerating but nodded anyway, hurrying to open his bedroom door. He helped Dave crawl into bed before following, curling up against him. Dave took his hand and squeezed it tightly.

“Does it hurt?” Klaus asked eventually, glancing down at his chest.

“It just stings a bit, I’m okay,” Dave said, smiling at him. “Thanks.”

“Your welcome?” Klaus said uncertainty. “I mean, I know I’m a gift, but I have a feeling that’s not what you’re thanking me for.”

“Yes, for you,” Dave chuckled. “For everything, really. For showing me around your childhood room, for introducing me to your family, and for just being there for me I guess.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you won’t be thanking me once you meet the rest of my family and spend any amount of time with them,” Klaus said.

“I missed you,” Dave said, and suddenly there were tears in his eyes. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” Klaus said, pulling closer, kissing him softly.

#klaus hargreeves #dave katz #klave #umbrella academy #the umbrella academy #fixes to the timeline

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missytearex · 6 years

Text

Happy 1D fanworks appreciation day! I thought I would celebrate by sharing my ultimate favourites. So, in no particular order, here we go!

Vanguard by catholicschoolgirl | @catholicschoolgirl --- 40k, Zarry

“But you've been thinking about me,” Harry said. “You've been thinking about me, and now you know that I've been thinking about you. Since before we even met, I've wanted you.”

Zayn smiled wryly, feeling cynical all of a sudden. “And it's that easy?”

Harry nodded. “It should be. People try to make it hard, but I've gotta believe it's that easy. It's everything else about this damn world that's hard.”

This one absolutely destroyed me. It’s set in the 60′s during the Vietnam war. I was completely transported there. Do yourself a favour and have a listen to the fanmix as well. It really adds to the immersion.

there's no fair in farewell by we_are_the_same | @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed --- 218k, Larry

When Harry and Louis, two Cupids who have been bringing people together for decades, are tasked with making Soulmates Liam and Zayn fall in love, it proves to be much harder than expected. But maybe, just maybe, that isn’t such a bad thing after all.

This was the first WIP I’ve let myself read in years, and guys, it paid off! I have such a soft spot for it, as I was reading along while it was being posted. Take note that it is complete now! It’s just such an original story. I laughed, I cried, I yelled in capslock. Go read this right now, if you haven’t yet!

Under All Circumstances by lazy_daze | @dazy-laze --- 38k, OT5

When Liam decides to sign up for an online dating website, his main worry is how scary it is to finally have the chance to go out with a boy; he’s definitely not anticipating having to deal with the website glitch that sets him up on a blind date with not just one boy, but four at the same time.

Somehow, the date goes well – so well that the other four convince Liam that they all need to do it again, and for some crazy reason Liam agrees. Maybe it’s because he really likes these loud, ridiculous, frankly gorgeous boys.

But it’s stupid, isn’t it? No matter how good it feels, how much fun Liam has, and how lucky he feels that all these people want to kiss him – five people can’t all go out at the same time. Five-way relationships don’t happen, there’s no way they can all make this work. He’s sure of it.

I can’t emphasize enough how much I love this fic. It’s OT5 with feels, which is one of my favourite things ever, and there is not nearly enough of it in this world.

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy | @daisyharry --- 149k, Larry

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes. - A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

Larry roadtrip AU! I can only imagine how much research must have gone into writing something like this. Pair that with a brilliant writing style and amazing characterizations and, holy shit, you’ve got one incredible story!

Little Lion Man by Writcraft | @writsgrimmyblog --- 123k, Tomlinshaw

It’s his final year at Hogwarts, and Louis can’t wait to leave for good. He hates being in Gryffindor and he can’t even enjoy a smoke with the Slytherins now his best mate Zayn’s fucked off to Durmstrang. Louis would be completely miserable if not for WWN and Nick Grimshaw. The same Nick Grimshaw Louis has been listening to for years, ever since Nick’s early days on Potterwatch. As Louis tries to negotiate coming of age, sexuality, first times, homophobia in the wizarding world and his growing feelings for Nick, a new evil emerges which puts Louis and Nick in serious danger. Peace can only last for so long and Louis is about to learn exactly how brave he can be as he finds himself fighting for his life, his friends and everything he’s ever loved.

This author is an absolute legend among the HP community, and I feel so blessed that they gave us this epic coming-of-age freakin novel of a Tomlinshaw fic. Because that’s what it is. A novel. Reading it feels like reading a Harry Potter book, with added smut. Plus, I have such a soft spot for Tomlinshaw. A must read.

Let It Be Lightning by alexenglish | @queerlyalex --- 41k, OT5

Niall Horan made a choice when he enlisted with the Pan Pacific Defense Corps. Leave his family and try to make a difference. He started out as a Jaeger Tech, elbow-deep in the greasy guts of the machines that were supposed to save the world, but here he is, five years later, fresh out of the Ranger Academy with another choice to make:

Assemble a team of Rangers able to pilot two or more Jaegers at any given moment. Interchangeable partnerships, all Drift Compatible with each other. The implications of pulling off this project are astronomical, but at the end of the day, Niall's just worried about how many people are going to end up inside his head.

If you’re looking for a little diversity, look no further! This one features non-binary!harry, trans-male!louis and asexual!liam all in one damn place! And everyone is connected through Niall! I mean, that pushes so many of my buttons, I don’t even know where to start!

you came into my life by disgruntledkittenface | @disgruntledkittenface --- 57k, Larry

They stand around talking for a minute and then Jonathan starts to ramble, “Has there ever been, like, an unrequited gay love story in here? Like a Brokeback Mountain moment where, like, someone just fell in love and they didn’t mean to?”

Louis feels bile rise in his throat as Jonathan’s eyes sparkle, pleading for a yes. He manages to look around and see thoughtful looks on his coworkers’ faces before their heads shake no.

“Not here,” Liam says finally.

When the Queer Eye cast and crew sweep into Louis’ small town and fire station to make over his best friend and coworker Liam, Louis’ carefully constructed walls start to fall down and he has to face his fears – and the only guy he’s ever been able to see a future with.

I’ve talked about this one before, and to be honest, I probably won’t ever stop talking about it. It’s a story about Louis’ inner struggles and the people that give him the courage to finally come out of the closet. Every which way you turn, there’s a character love and adore. I will definitely be reading this one again some time in the near future.

I Only Come Alive Under the Moonlight by remivel | @remivel --- 54k, Lilo

Louis knew he hadn't seen action in months, but this was just the universe making fun of him, he was sure of it. Because when he woke up in the middle of the night, he discovered that his new dog was missing, and standing in its place was a very confused, very fit... and very naked man.

Or a romantic comedy with a furry twist. Liam turns into a dog at night, Louis tries to help him get back to normal-- and ends up falling in love somewhere along the way.

It’s a rom-com, guys! And I actually laughed out loud. Imagine Louis waking up to find a naked Liam in the kitchen. And Liam having no idea how he got there, or even who he is. It’s so fun to join their weird little bubble for a while. I could’ve easily read another 50k words of this.

Replay, Darling by lazy_daze | @dazy-laze --- 1k, Lilo

Really, really schmoopy Lilo 'Replay' fic for which I blame onedirectionundergod and the fact that there can never been enough 'Replay' schmoop. (Or porn - oh man, please - but this is version: schmoop.) Thank you to checkthemargins for the title help! <3

This one really is sickly-sweet, but that’s just how I like ‘em! I know it’s short, but my love for Lilo and the whole replay thing makes it one of my favourites.

Easy As All That (Go Around A Time Or Two) by sunsetmog --- 84k, Lilo

Sometimes the hardest part of growing up is figuring out who you are in the first place.

Or: The one where Liam and Louis only kiss when they're on nights out, when it's secret, when there's no one around to see them. If no one knows you're having a sexuality crisis, that means it isn't happening, right?

Or, or: Liam accidentally turns Louis' world upside down.

A high school sixth form AU.

Lilo having a sexuality crisis! I don’t know what more you need me to say, really. When I think about Lilo, this is the fic I think about.

Heart Skips A Beat by harriet_vane --- 27k, Zarry

Harry always kisses everyone, until he starts something he can't finish. (A university AU in which no one goes to class. I am noticing a trend.)

Harry’s characterization is the whole reason I love this fic so much. He absolutely has no freakin idea how to deal with his crush and goes about it all wrong. It’s endearing as much as it is face-palm inducing.

I Could Paint You By Numbers, and Color You In by YinAndYangOnIce --- 12k, Ziall

based off this thing i wrote, basically Niall has a secret admirer and everyone is an idiot

I prefer my Ziall to be of the fluffy variety and this one does not disappoint! It makes me smile like an absolute idiot, which is why you should read it.

Not Happening by scottmcniceass --- 52k, Ziam

Zayn and Liam are roommates. They hate each other. (Most of the time.)

This was the first Ziam I have ever read and boy did it set the bar high. If you’re into enemies to lovers, as I am, drop everything and read this.

#28th appreciation #one direction #1d #mine #fic rec #my recs #my lists

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ponyregrets · 6 years

Note

That last ep was A MESS can you please do a fluffy bellarke fic for some therapy? :)

I was working on something else but idk when I’m gonna post that, so here’s something quicker. @apanoplyofsong pointed out that a question from a recent My Brother, My Brother, and Me sounded like a Bellarke AU, and she was def right.

Also on AO3!

"So, what's the correct reaction when you find out someone is going to be naked on TV and didn't tell you?"

Wells' hand stops with his croissant halfway to his mouth, and he puts it down and just cocks his head at her. "One more time."

Clarke sighs. "You remember Bellamy?"

"Your roommate's brother? The hot one?"

"That would be him."

Wells nods. "I can see why this is a crisis."

"It's weird, right?"

"I still don't know what it is, I just assume everything involving Bellamy is a crisis for you."

This is, unfortunately, kind of accurate. Bellamy is a problem because the first few times Clarke met him, she hated him but also wanted to make out with him, and while the hate faded, the desire to make out with him never did, which just leaves her with a huge, stupid crush on her college roommate's brother, and nothing to do about it because Bellamy, despite no longer hating her and, by all appearances, being pretty fond of her, has showed no signs of wanting to make out with her.

But he also didn't tell her he's going to be naked on TV, and she's not sure what to make of that. All she knows is that she's been reading into it non-stop.

"He got cast on a new show. It sounds really good, like--one of those prestige things, on Showtime, probably really great for his career. He's been really excited? We've been talking about it a lot. But he didn't tell me he's apparently got nude scenes."

"So how did you find out?"

"Octavia brought it up. And it felt like everyone else already knew? She was like, I hope he tells me when the nudity is so I can skip it, and Raven was like, I hope he tells me so I can have a viewing party. And I didn't know at all."

"So you're upset he didn't tell you he was going to be naked."

"Not upset. I'm trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do. Like, do I act like I don't know? Do I watch the episode and tell him--I don't even know what I'd tell him."

"Look, I get why you're overthinking this. I've met you, I know how you are. But he's on a TV show where he's getting naked and he told you about it. He's got to know that you might see him naked."

"So why wouldn't he tell me? Just, like--as a head's up"

Wells shrugs. "You could ask him."

"Yeah, that's normal. Hey, Bellamy, why didn't you warn me I was going to see your dick on TV?"

"Okay, first off. Let's pretend for a second that this isn't the guy you've got a crush on. I know you love pretending you don't have a crush on him."

Clarke glares. "Shut up."

"What if it was me? What if it was my dick?"

"If it was you, you would have told me you were going to be naked." She sighs. "It just bothers me? Like--he told his sister and Raven, why wouldn'the tell me? I thought we were friends."

"Maybe it just came up when he was talking to them and it hasn't come up with you yet. And Octavia is his sister," he adds. "If I was going to be naked on TV, I'd tell all my immediate family so they'd be prepared."

"But not your friends."

He taps his jaw. "I guess it depends. Like, maybe he thinks he shouldn't assume you care. You're an adult, you've seen a dick before."

"So has Raven. I think she's seen his dick."

"So it's probably not a big deal for her." He sighs. "Seriously, I don't know what you want me to tell you. Do I think it's weird? Sure. Do I have any idea what I'd do if I was appearing on TV naked? No. So if you want to know what he's thinking? You've got to ask him."

"You're no help," she mutters.

"I don't know why you thought I would be. You knew this was what I was going to say."

"Would you ask him? If it was you."

Wells opens and closes his mouth, apparently changing his mind a couple times before he finally says, "Honestly? I'd probably try to figure out how to get him to bring it up. Like--drop some hints or whatever."

Clarke chokes on her coffee. "So, on a scale from one to ten, how much nudity is in this? Asking for a friend."

"I was thinking about watching this with my grandmother, any reason I shouldn't?."

"Perfect, yeah." She sighs. "How bad is it that I'm really looking forward to the episode?"

"It's bad because you should be putting more effort into actually seeing him naked and less into worrying about seeing him naked on TV. Maybe he didn't tell you because he's hoping his dick will impress you and he doesn't want you to miss out."

"Is that what you would do?"

"I still don't think there's a ton of point in putting me in hypothetical situations where I'm naked on TV," says Wells. "What would you do?"

It's a valid question, and Clarke clucks her tongue. "I think I'd tell him because I'd feel weirder if he found out on his own. But I don't know how I'd tell him."

"So maybe he's just waiting for the opening. You just need to give him one."

"Like asking if I can watch with my grandmother."

Wells smiles. "For a start. You know when the episode is on?"

"Not yet. The show premieres next month, I think?"

"Cool. Let me know when he's going to be naked."

"Obviously," says Clarke. "What are friends for?"

"I think you're going to regret this."

Bellamy scowls, more at his computer than Clarke. "I already regret this. Jesus, how do I decide who to follow? Why are people already following me?"

Intrepid is Bellamy's first really big recurring role, a significant part on a prestige show that's got a lot of network support. It's not necessarily his big break, but it's the best shot he's had, probably ever, which means he's putting in some real effort to capitalizing on it.

Which means he signed up for twitter and then called Clarke as soon as people found out he was on twitter, because now he's terrified. Not shockingly.

"Because the show account welcomed you to twitter and people are excited."

"The show hasn't even started yet."

"Do you understand how publicity works?"

This time, he is scowling at her. "Clearly not. I've been told if I understood how publicity worked I would have already had a twitter."

"Probably, yeah."

"I don't see how it helps me if I don't use it."

"The idea is that you use it."

"Thanks for the update."

"You did call me."

A smile tugs at his mouth. "I did. I saw you followed me."

"Well, I'm a fan."

"Thanks." He cracks his neck. "I can follow you back, right?"

The question actually requires some thought. "It depends on who else you follow."

"Why?"

"Well, if you follow me and like--no other regular people? You're showing that I'm your friend."

"You are my friend."

"I'm just saying, people might read into it."

He rubs his face. "Fuck, am I really expecting people to read into my twitter follows? Is that a thing?"

"I don't know," she says, slow. She's not actually involved in the industry at all, but she grew up around Hollywood, and she does brand management for companies, which is kind of similar. Bellamy's not a big enough deal to hire an actual dedicated person for social media, but she also likes him. She's willing to advise him pro-bono. "But it's better to start off careful than realize you need to be careful and haven't been."

"I guess. Can't I follow you because you're a professional? You do--things."

"It's my personal twitter. I do professional tweets from the agency account. And I'm not exactly famous on any of my accounts."

He thinks it over. "I'm following you anyway."

She's his first follow, which is flattering, even if it's also a kind of terrible tactical decision.

"Okay, you should follow the show too, and the other actors." She worries her lip. "What kind of fan base are you expecting?"

He shoots her a sidelong glance. "What are my options?"

It's not exactly how she planned to bring up the whole nudity issue, but since she didn't really have a plan, the excuse is appreciated. "Are you hot?"

Adorably, he looks down at himself. "Uh, I think so? I look pretty good."

She bites back on her smile. "I meant--is your character showing off how hot you are? Do you think a lot of people are going to follow you because you're attractive in the context of the show? Or are they not going to know you're hot?"

"Oh." He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, I think being hot is kind of a character trait."

"Okay, so you should expect to get a bunch of followers who just think you're hot. I'd probably try to go for kind of--normal vibe."

"What does that mean?"

"Tweet every couple days with just stuff about your life. Engage with the other actors. Do you have a love interest?"

The pause stretches. "I have a sex scene."

"With a guy or a girl?"

"Guy. It's pretty good, honestly. In terms of being--I don't know. It's how they reveal my character is queer, they haven't specified exactly how yet, and I don't love that, but the scene was well written and I liked how they handled it."

"How explicit?"

"The actual sex scene is pretty tame, but I wander around naked after."

"So you're telling me as soon as that episode airs, you're going to pick up ten million twitter followers."

"You're telling me that. I'm humble."

Clarke smiles. "Okay, fine. Here."

He blinks as she hands over her phone. "What?"

"Log into twitter. I'm taking over your social media presence. I've got this."

"Don't you usually charge for that?" he asks, but he's already putting in his information.

"Usually, yeah. But we're friends." She bites her lip. "Were you going to tell me about the sex scene?"

"Is that something I was supposed to disclose?"

"What if my mom was visiting and I told her we should watch your show together?"

"I assume your mom has seen a dick before." He sighs. "I don't know, it's weird, right? But I wanted you to watch the show."

"And you thought your dick would scare me off?"

"This is why I didn't want to have this conversation."

He really does look a little uncomfortable, and Clarke feels guilt rush over her. It probably is really awkward for him. Just because she's hurt doesn't mean he did anything to hurt her, and he doesn't deserve her petulance.

"Sorry," she says. "It's not--I'm curious. It's not like it's a big deal. It's your job, right?"

"Yeah. And it's a good job, I don't mind. But this is a first for me."

"Hey, at least you look good naked," she says, and he smirks.

"Are you spying on me or just going on blind faith?"

"Not blind faith. Informed faith. I know you have a great workout routine, and you look good with clothes on, so--" He's still smirking, and she glares. "I'm trying to make you feel better, shut up!"

"It's working, keep going."

"I thought you didn't want to have this conversation."

"I didn't realize it would involve you telling me how good I look naked." His expression softens, going gentle in the way that always makes her heart lurch. "I was trying to figure out how to tell you. Without it being like--hey, check out my dick. Or beware of my dick."

"That's what you told Octavia, I'm guessing."

He winces. "She told you? You knew?"

"She and Raven were talking about it. It felt a little weird being the only one who didn't know about your dick."

"Raven's my roommate, she got the first freakout. Right place, right time. Or wrong place, wrong time, I guess? Depending on how much you want to hear about my dick." He clears his throat. "And, yeah, I warned O. She was asking how embarrassing it would be to watch. And then--honestly, yeah, you probably are the only one who didn't know."

It stings a little. "So, you could tell everyone else to check out your dick?"

"Well, Miller and Raven have already seen it." He bites the corner of his mouth. "I was trying to figure out the right approach. Raven told me I was a total failure if I couldn't turn it into a pick-up line, but I wasn't having much luck."

"Hey, check out my dick?" Clarke supplies, heart racing. "It was right there."

"Yeah, but it's not exactly romantic. And I was hoping to, uh--I was really going to do better than freaking out at you about twitter and accidentally talking about my dick. A lot. When you already knew about it. Fuck."

Clarke can't help it; she starts laughing. Bellamy doesn't join her, but his mouth does twitch up into a sheepish smile, and Clarke gets her own reaction under control. "Sorry, just--Bellamy, come on. You didn't have to do anything special. You didn't even have to bring up your dick! Just--hey, do you want to get dinner sometime?"

"That's it?"

"You seem really invested in making this complicated." She smiles. "I like you. It doesn't have to be some big thing. Just--yeah. Do you want to get dinner sometime?"

He laughs, leans in and presses his mouth against hers, a kiss that's supposed to be quick, but she doesn't want to kiss him quickly. She wants to kiss him for hours.

"I definitely want to get dinner," he murmurs, when he finally pulls away. His grin is almost blinding. "You want to check out my dick sometime?"

"Before the episode airs?"

"Special sneak preview. Any time you want."

She leans in to kiss him again. "I'd love to."

Raven does have a viewing party for the episode, but since she's done that for every episode, Clarke assumes it won't actually be a big deal.

In retrospect, this was a stupid assumption.

"I didn't even know they made this much dick-shaped food," says Clarke, leaning over the bowl of dick pasta.

"Bachelorette parties. Gag gifts. Trolling your friend about his big sex scene. They're good for every occasion. And some of them aren't technically dicks. The cake is supposed to be a palm tree on an island or some shit. But hey, anything can be a dick if you believe in yourself."

"And you're very dedicated to trolling your friend."

"And I am." Her eyes flick over Clarke. "How weird is this going to be? Watching your boyfriend be naked on TV with all your closest friends?"

"Probably less weird than if I wasn't dating him. This way at least I already know I get to fuck him after."

"Yeah, I guess that would be a plus. I assume you're not going to be overcome with lust or anything."

"Depends on how good the sex scene is."

Raven rolls her eyes. "You two are disgusting. But congrats, I guess. I'm glad he actually managed to leverage a nude scene into a relationship."

"I'm very smooth," Bellamy says, coming up behind Clarke and grabbing a gummy dick out of the bowl on the table. "Shut up."

"Literally all he had to do was ask, and he didn't," Clarke says. "Leverage is a strong word."

"You asked me out during a conversation about my dick. Which was causing you a major crisis. I'm counting it as an overall win."

Clarke grins, leaning back into him. "Definitely a win."

And it is, admittedly, a little weird to watch the scene, but it's the usual kind of surreality that comes along with having a boyfriend who's on TV. Bellamy's a great actor, and it's not really like watching him. The sex he has on screen is nothing like the sex she and Bellamy have with each other.

It's great and all, good direction, good acting, but it doesn't even come close to the real thing. And that's all hers.

#Anonymous

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mild-lunacy · 7 years

Text

The Holy Grail of Headcanons

It’s not that I don’t headcanon. I mean, at base, we all imagine the story somehow, right? I don’t have a pipeline that beams the narrative fully formed from any author’s mind to mine, let alone one that’s been dead for a 100+ years. I’m sure there’s no such thing as an IC Odysseus... and what would that even mean (beyond certain broad strokes). Of course, until the Novel came along as an artform, the idea of characterization was very, very fluid. Take the Arthurian legends, for example. It’s more like, ‘a bunch of merry archetypes walked into a bar’.... In that context, I’ll happily say that (for example) my Arthur was a minor Saxon warlord fighting against the Normans. There was never any love triangle. But I accept the Lancelot/Guinevere headcanon. Why not? It’s all good fun, and the possibilities are endless (as long as you make it make sense, so it’s not out of nowhere or over-the-top, ‘cause Mary Sues are always annoying to me, especially with female characters).

I don’t mind fun. Okay, that sounds bad. Let’s just say, I definitely think it is fun. But when I’m taking it a little more seriously, suddenly I’m taking it a lot more seriously. And then, it’s looking for the Holy Grail or I wanna go home (to canon). Because to me, the Story is always real (even if the way it’s made real is inevitably through a reading, which in itself is a set of headcanons). These are tame headcanons, though. Canon-friendly headcanons, made of love and close attention to the story. Headcanons with one purpose: illustration.

I guess I also feel that those medieval bards making those fun AUs is fundamentally different than the sort of thing where you consciously deny canon reality in order to substitute your own, superior reality, where everyone’s relatable and/or non-problematic. I don’t really get that, on an intuitive level. Instead of play, it feels like... war. Like waging war on the narrative. On one side: the Fan. On the other: the Story. In this stand-off, the Fan unquestionably wins. It’s disturbing to me. In the end, I hate taking sides-- in my own way, I love fandom-- but if I had to choose, I choose the Story that I loved in the first place.

It’s not that I don’t get why it happens. Sometimes, you know, stories are problematic in some fashion, and it’d be good to fix it. I suppose these viewers (and/or readers) feel the story is waging war on them. There’s a good reason to find a solution. There’s a difference, though, between an actual solution and a headcanon that’s slapped on.

One would be rewriting Draco Malfoy’s or John Watson’s arc-- that is, giving them one. I would be into that. It’s true that the majority of book 6 (and Series 4, respectively) would indeed be different, but good different. Productive different. But that’s not a headcanon, is it? That’s a whole fanfiction epic. Back when I was in HP fandom, I’d been very much into the idea of fixing canon with canon-divergent but IC epics, although I’ve never seen or written one that fit my (maybe rather extreme) standards, haha. It’s probably impossible to write a fic that’s as good as the HP books, except includes H/D and a whole arc for Draco-- I mean, if you did that, you might as well change the names and sell your own YA fantasy epic or something. Anyway, my point is that I’m just a bit perfectionistic and thorough if I decide canon needs fixing. Just a tad. A smidgeon.

By contrast, a headcanon is just... an idea. An idea that may or may not make sense in context. Most people seem to feel that making sense isn’t as important as just hating the canon less, or being less uncomfortable. A fair enough point. I think for me, it’s just a lot easier to make the canon work with my own headcanons (I mean, used in congress with the text), than making other people’s headcanons work. The way I mean ‘headcanon’ here, it’s just a little bit of smoothing. I wouldn’t rely on it for anything-- the canon’s doing the work-- but I’d be using my imagination to fill in the blanks. That’s fine. Going with the flow of the narrative, behind the scenes-- when the canon’s not looking, so to speak-- you can make a number of creative alterations. Queer readings can flower. Little details take on new significance. The story is enriched if we look more deeply between the lines, imagining the history behind John and Sholto, details about Harry Watson, or creating a story behind the new skull painting in 221b.

However, an idea that’s isolated or used against the text can’t actually fix canon, whether it’s a question of representation or characterization in general. Only a retold story can be equivalent to the canon story. You can’t say either ‘John is bisexual’ or ‘Gansey is bisexual’ without telling the story showing that he is; that is, you can (and people do) certainly see it, but it has to be a deep, internally consistent reconceptualization of the entire narrative. At that point, it’s not an idea or a headcanon, so much as an entire reading. A full story, if only told to yourself. I think that’s why I was so drawn in by some of the meta behind TJLC (as opposed to any other Grand Theories in Sherlock fandom). TJLC spoiled me, because it is absolutely unique in that it’s a fully realized reading that creates that internally consistent, epic continuity I said I was looking for in HP. Perhaps it was actually impossible in HP. As I once said, if TJLC is fanon, and perhaps especially if it’s fanon, then it’s the apotheosis of fanon: fanon as it’s meant to be. A reading that works with and improves upon the text. That’s the Holy Grail. The only thing I’d be satisfied with. TJLC or canon: accept no substitutes.

Naturally, none of this is necessary, because you can imagine whatever you want. All I’m saying is that the ordinary stuff-- your everyday headcanon-- does nothing for me but constantly induce cognitive dissonance. It seems like an exercise in denial, sort of like fake news. I couldn’t believe in most what I see even if I wanted to: it’s obviously false. The fact that other people want to is thus a source of bewilderment and some pain. Mostly, that is due to the social nature of fandom. To some degree, participating in fandom these days means interacting with other people’s headcanons (or fanon, essentially). When the majority of headcanons are of the ‘fake news’ variety, it’s a constant exercise of staging mental defenses or using mental resistance to reassert what I know to be real. It’s... not fun.

I can’t help but feel that just because you call a square a circle doesn’t actually make it a circle, even if it’s fiction. Most people do have an issue when stories don’t make sense (a source of many headcanons!) but they don’t really have an issue where the ‘fix’ itself has to make sense in context. If the viewer feels it works, then it works: that’s the nature of a headcanon. It’s why they usually drive me insane. I probably interrogate canon less than fanon, because canon has stylistic and at least some assured plot/characterization continuity. It’s easier just to understand what canon was doing, rather than inventing a whole storyline from whole cloth to fix it (as any fic writer can tell you, it takes a lot of work-- a lot more work than a headcanon patch, anyway). For most people, it seems that headcanons are different. If one works in the fan’s mind, it’s real enough. At that point, the entire fannish enterprise feels pointless to me except for perpetuating that seemingly eternal conflict: us, the Fans vs. the Story.

I think to me, TJLC was the Holy Grail ‘cause it squared the circle. It’s the fanon story that enriched and transformed, more than the sum of its parts. Naturally, it could only happen because people were only describing what we saw rather than trying to ‘fix it’. I think when you simply say what you genuinely see, and you read closely and honestly, usually it makes sense. And if it truly does make sense, it’s real. It’s true, the way great stories always are.

#sherlock feels #johnlock feels #fandom meta #me myself and i #pointless rambles #tjlc #the great divergence #reader response #characterization #narrative

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