#I spoke with an American friend who does a lot of work + activism in the states for women

[violetsandshrikes]

I want to feel sorry for tradwives but also. White women.

There is definitely discussions to be had around trads and white supremacy, especially since incredibly prominent trad influencers + known groups are often ones centred around the idea of a “white replacement theory” and other incredibly deranged concepts.

HOWEVER I have also had this a lot, and I’m wondering if this is also a regional thing/association thing but: P is not white. Many actual tradwives that I’ve met (and I use that to differentiate from the influencers) are not white.

This could be the result of a couple different things I think: high profile influencers in that sphere fitting he profile I mentioned above, what people regionally consider to be a tradwife (for example, I find Americans tend to think of tradwives as middle to upper middle class, white and Mormon)…probably other social assumptions/experiences at work here. While the idea of white supremacy is rampant in many groups that push tradwifery, there are definitely also many groups that don’t fit this profile, which I think adds a whole other layer of complication.

[mysteria157]

hello hello mystie 🩷 bon has decided to visit you once again.

i am recently going through quite some turbulence with my writing. i have been working on a aot reiner piece for quite some time but it's been feeling rather... unfulfilling? i guess i just want to open up a bit.

as a black woman, i've seen a number of posts on here of other woc having takes about how we should 'embrace our blackness' and write our fics in a way that reflects that. i always understood that this is a valid opinion, as we are often pushed by society to 'calm' ourselves down and water down our personalities and our way of speaking (often not to fall subject to a number of disheartening stereotypes.)

but i've come to a more different, personal conclusion over the past few months. i am a black south african girl who grew up watching british cartoons in order to learn english. my mother took me to a catholic school where english was the language of instruction and we had a similar education system as most british schools (colonisation has a role in this system but that's a discussion for another day.)

i've always been called 'whitewashed' as i am fluent in the language. there's still heavy racial tension where i'm from, so ever since i was little i was compared to speaking as a white person. a 'coconut' if we want to go that far, lol.

besides this, we've become more westernised and my peers around me began to see the struggle of african americans as our own (since we're all experiencing the same biases and discrimination as poc.) now for some reason, seeing the takes of other woc made me feel as if the way i write and speak was incorrect. i felt like a phony, like someone who was dodging away from racism by writing like a 'white person' to stay unattacked.

to cut this short (as this has already been quite long), your writing put things into perspective for me. it might not be 'that deep' but seeing another black woman write and speak similar to myself has healed a small part of me. not only is your writing excellent, but it makes me feel as if that i don't have to pretend to be the stereotypical black writer all the time.

that my way of writing does not make me any less 'black'. i now know exactly how i want to create stories and write them down, as i always could've done.

thank you for being the talented individual that you are. love you lots.

-Bonnie 🩷

Hello my beautiful, Bonnie 💕

I apologize for the delay, I’ve been traveling for work so my activity on Tumblr has been low recently.

It’s a weird sensation of fate to read your post, because I resonate with your thoughts deeply. Growing up as a military child, I moved frequently, so I never really had a “home” like others. The friends that I had were all military children too and made up a melting pot of race, diversity, and background. I did not have a primarily black friend group and because of this, others often made fun of me for not being “black” enough. The way I spoke, wrote, dressed, and my mannerisms were all representative of a “whitewashed” version of a black woman. The concept of whitewashed is a topic for another day 😒

I’ve dealt with being called an “inside out Oreo”and constantly heard the annoying micro-aggression of “talking really well for someone like myself.” And for years it bothered me more that I wanted to feel and act like others, instead of embracing myself. Thankfully, I got over that.

Joining Tumblr and finding a community of black writers has been a great experience, and I definitely agree that we should ‘embrace our blackness’, but embrace it in a way that represents YOU. Not everyone else.

For myself, I embrace with what I write about, not necessarily how I write. Because I write how I think and talk, but I try to share plot and experiences that normally resonate with who I am as a black woman. Cookouts, extended family mannerisms and traditions, how I do my hair and take care of my skin, etc.

You are not a phony and you are not ‘whitewashed’. You’re Bonnie, and Bonnie writes how Bonnie speaks, acts, and feels. Period.

In my opinion, trying to write a certain way to appeal to someone else only takes away from your own authenticity. This isn’t to invalidate someone else’s experience, but you shouldn’t have to pretend to embrace your ‘blackness’. Being able to overcome this feeling is such a strength that you should continue to hold close 💕

Girl, look at me rambling LMFAO. THE POINT IS, I’m so happy that I was able to help you embrace more of who you are. I’m happy that you enjoy my words. I’m happy that you have the strength to create how you want. And I’m just…really happy for meeting you 🥹

Create your stories however you want. As long as Bonnie is happy and Bonnie is enjoying it and Bonnie is not intentionally hurting others, that’s all that should matter.

Love you lots as well. Thank you for being the beautiful mootie that you are 💕😘

[iraprince]

Hello! long time silent fan here 💝

i came across an older post referring to you leaving the Guns Blazing project... i did back that kickstarter, and now im kinda worried about just who i gave my money to :/

are you able to share any details about why you left, or if theres anything i should know about the creators? it's too late for me to not give them money, but id like to know before i recommend the game to anyone

the main issue shared in the post you reference is pretty much it: a prominent ttrpg award was given to an active duty military strategist. a lot of people in the community, myself included, were obviously horrified by this and many spoke up about what kind of grotesque and deeply unjust message this sends about what we're allowing (more than allowing, CELEBRATING????) in the space; bafflingly, a bunch of other people in the community all crowded around to congratulate and asspat and defend and gas up this grinning servant of the imperial american death machine. it was horrifying to see that the dev of guns blazing, which the entire time it was funding had constantly and loudly advertised itself as a "decolonial" and "anti-imperialist" game, was one of the people celebrating his win.

when i confronted the dev one-on-one about this, i was told "the man's a personal friend who's helped me out in the past and helped out other marginalized people in the space." that is not a sufficient excuse for me when the issue is what this man was doing to marginalized people, FOR MONEY, FOR HIS CAREER, outside of the space. (it's murder. what a military strategist does is facilitate murder as needed by the state.) u cannot buy back lives you've destroyed globally by getting other poc jobs in roleplaying games or whatever the fuck.

i couldn't handle this. i'm not going to judge other artists who stayed in — i don't know if everyone even saw, the turmoil over the award was something that from what i saw was mostly contained to twitter and the dev kept his head down about it aside from his initial congratulations. there was a moment before i confronted the dev where honestly i thought to myself "maybe i can just pretend i didn't see it," but i knew in my heart that wasn't true and i wouldn't be able to be proud of myself if i did that. so that's why i pulled out.

my tone is heated here bc obviously this is a really appalling subject — it's the reason my commerical work contracts have a fucking ethics clause in them now, lmao — but at the same time i'm honestly not interested in like, "calling out" the dev over this. he let me leave the project immediately and without any issues, and i haven't kept up with anything he's doing since this incident. maybe he's changed his mind or like, one would hope all of the absolute horror we're constantly submerged in from witnessing the us government's eager support of the genocide in palestine has opened his eyes to No, Agents Of The Military Are Not Our Fucking Friends, Actually. i don't know. i don't care to go looking to find out. my interest is not in saying "i think this dev is a bad person and everyone should be wary of them!!!!", it's just to say "this dev did something that was so shocking to me and so misaligned from my own morals that i had to distance myself immediately." i don't know how far that reflects on anything else he believes or does, i just know it was a dealbreaker for me personally. the story ends there for me, and other people will have to make their own judgements based on what they observe now.

[azquine]

This may be for too niche of an audience, but fuck it, I'm reaching the fixated audience of me.

The captain from BBC Ghosts and Abed Nadir from community share quite a few similarities, at least from the way I read them.

They both hyperfixate, and their broad hyperfixation shapes the very way they view reality.

For the captain every interaction is a battle he has to strategize through in order to succeed. People are divided into allies and enemies, ranked into inferiors and superiors. Everything is war to him.

And to Abed the world is a show, every event a plotpoint with tropes he can either embrace or subvert. Their sequence he can break down into genre and predict. Every person is a character with a role, with consistent traits and desires he can navigate.

It is through these lenses that they try to control others sometimes, and are occasionally controlled in turn. Though honestly, when he tries Abed is more effective in this regard. Think about the American poultry episode, the captain could never. The captain attempts to pull rank and order more than he manipulates. That's more Julian's thing. Whereas Abed isn't trying to be the leader, he knows he isn't the main character, but he does want to lead the story where he thinks it would be best

They are both outwardly stoic seeming. If you look at them as a stranger all you will see is a straight face and blunt words. But if you pay any attention to how they actually act, you can see that they actually feel things very deeply. They care a lot. Their way of expressing themselves just isn't the exact same way as everyone else. But if you know what to look for it is not subtle in the least. Every little action is practically dripping with their thoughts and feelings. The way they position their head, the way they fiddle with things in their hands, their habits are visible and consistent. If anyone so wished they could make a list of each one and what they mean. So what if they don't laugh or smile the same way that other people do, if when they try to do it normally to fit in it is a little 'off'. If sometimes people call them emotionless. If sometimes they think that of themselves. They aren't.

This is most visible when they get to interact with their fixation, or when that fixation is taken away from them. Their joy, or upset, is practically palpable. You can see them visibly brighten up when the opportunity to share or interact with the thing they enjoy arises.

And then there is the abandonment that fundamentally changes them. Havers and Troy. Both gone to another place far away, leaving The Captain to stare at an open gate and Abed at an empty chair. The person most important to them, who bothered to understand them more than anyone else ever did, ends up leaving them behind. And it hurts them. A lot. It's one of the last things they speak about with the other characters and audience before their show ends.

For the comfort of hetronormative society they appear as a friend or a working partner to them. Though there is clear subtext that there was something more underneath. That they wanted something more. Even though it was not something they openly spoke of.

They are also both just kind of silly. This is completely unintentional on the captain's part, who would prefer to appear perfectly serious and professional. Abed however does not really give a shit how others see his activities and interests. They just get so into everything they do that it quickly veers into ridiculousness, focused on their task long after everyone else gives it up.

I don't know, I didn't really have any point to this post other than to talk about my current favourite two queer autistic characters. I would highly recommend that if you like Ghosts and the Captain, or Community and Abed, that you also watch the other show. Both will make you laugh and also kick you squarely in the sternum. And if any of you have any thoughts please let me know, I am dying to talk about these things.

[meanwhileinstasiville]

I see all the yellow and I get followed around by the cars and...

You guys are stacked up against *every single old world stereotype from everywhere on earth* about that standard Latino build; laziness, pestilence, Animal Farm of the pigs as fascists, corruption, graft, sickness of the heart and of the mind.

Dear Arin, your brother acts and socializes and even attempted to court women, like a latino. And who absent that, seemed keen on tabling doumas like a Russian, a probable heritage from the perogi preparing great grandma of gangnes drive. And not white so much. Whataboutism, though definitely. Walking by "otterlifter" summons a yellow clad person, cooper, or otherwise? Mazatlan? Any of a number of college-meets-siskyou buildings?

Actives "that must not go unanswered" like *walking down the street* *across a bridge* *up a hill*? Really?

Whatever it is, it's not whiteness. American even at times. Slavic quality more and more, I swear.

(Am glad it's not dying, or that I can find shoes *because someone intends to mock me* rather than going barefoot, or that I eat daily because someone wants to ascribe or draw conclusions from it) Really.

...But what does it do? My parameters don't change anyone else's for being harassed all the time.

*seems to be getting a lot of exercise, the stationed person from the library lobby who spends time hogging the community phone there* (Since I started sitting in the corner)

*seems the mumbler girl who holed up; outside what was the paddington throwaway store, what the vicinity of love revolution has for seating, at the top of the library stair in the magazines, is taking to walking all the way to clay street to meet me there*

*Exponentially increasingly bizarre conversation downstairs as of the last three days or so*

*used to see this stuff at the mountain avenue crossing below the highschool where the walking path met the road* (any of the random encounters waiting for me to have them)

*used to see the car thing piled up as curated traffic at the walking path meets garfield location* (stacks of cars from encounters at intersections around town and the outskirts)

*and first spot next to the coop where had sat red hondas and blue fords before that, yet another cooper because some economist mags were left on a low library shelf* In the large print section (I'm going to hazard a guess that you became an economist because Eric read that, ryan. So, economics is about *making people ***do things*** not reading and citing indicators for praises; military strategy is about killing people *it's not about studying maps for notable features* ("we'll inflict so much pain on them (meaning I think, the fed) that they'll have to lay people off" said an old issue of the economist about fixing things. Which is why *you can't ever afford to actually be wrong* as a late friend might observe. Out of every hundred people; who lives dies works gets sick or has unmet needs?

(Following by cars based on make model and even color, is not a solution to any problem that I have. I am not for want of it when it is not there)

Unless of course, it's the nazi thing; which another friend strongly denies. So I lived at *both* an address of a dead friend and later a living one. I squatted a place in highschool formerly occupied by a family or two of illegals who spoke spanish. I am not any of them. I feel like this is more important than ever, to point out

Add to that the yellow clad woman with a leash and then the guy in yellow coat who made several passes *to be seen* next to the library

A motorcycle with sidecar, I don't know guys seems gangs plus fascism

[leedee013]

I agree on Nicky being smart but I don't think that that's the real proof, and I can explain.

First off, when I read about Nicky going on an exchange I IMMEDIATELY thought of the Rotary Youth Exchange Program. This is a real thing that I have no idea if Nora actually had in mind or not, but in essence it's a program that allows high school students (maybe younger as well, but I found out about it in high school) to pick one of the 100+ countries involved in the program and go live there for a year. That means that it's more about having the money to pay the program than it's about language skills. I had a few friends in high school who went on these exchange years, one to Thailand, one to Austria, and one to Italy, and none of them even spoke the language before they went.

During that year abroad you're assigned to live with a host family, and I think in some countries you even live with multiple host families over the course of the year? I've heard mixed information from the people I've talked to who went on this program, so I might be mistaken. BUT that means that you're supposed to experience complete language immersion, which is how you really become fluent. I think the program offers you a language course before you leave but I might be mistaken. Again, I never did this, and I've been out of contact with the people I know who were involved in this, so my information might be outdated.

Anyway, my guess is that Nicky's German teacher, bless her, saw Nicky being really miserable and said "I know a thing, let's get you out of here." Additionally, it's mentioned that Nicky journaled using German a lot so he could hide his struggles with his sexuality from his parents, and that's another really solid way to build up your language skills. Besides, it helps a lot when you find a person who can talk with you and treat you like a goddamn human being. Erik was there for Nicky in a way no one else ever had been, and based off of everything we know about Erik in canon, he probably got Nicky involved in all kinds of school activities and local clubs, which would have increased Nicky's exposure to German and accelerated his acquisition of the language. Also, Nicky is a simple man when it comes to these things and probably studied German even harder just so he could impress Erik.

Now, again, I'm not discrediting Nicky's intelligence. I honestly think Andrew's relatives in this series are all pretty similar in intelligence to him, but they all manifest their smarts in different ways. I simply don't think that Nicky was being recommended for an exchange purely based off of language skills ALONE, because most of the time, exchange programs don't give that much of a shit about your skills when the point is to introduce you to countries all over the globe that speak languages that aren't even typically offered. Even my school's own three-week exchange programs sometimes opened up to people who didn't even take the language so that they could get more people to sign up.

HOWEVER. The RYEProgram does typically create a gap year for high schoolers. The classes you take at your host schools usually don't count toward the requirements that American high schools have that you need to get to graduate. What this means is that if Nicky graduated "on time" with his class, he had to have taken extra classes either over the summer or during the school year, and have done well in all of them. That means he either doubled his course load his entire junior year to accommodate for the required classes he'd otherwise miss or he was booking it through summer school classes. Either way, he had to work hard to be able to participate in that exchange. When you add exy to THAT, it becomes insane to think he was smart enough to be able to do it.

And by the way, I'm speaking as someone who went through the public education system and took German! It made me very excited because I can see a bit of myself in Nicky, who (and this might just be me projecting) I think would have used exy and his schoolwork as a way to avoid his parents as much as possible and as a way to focus on something else. I see him excelling because he knows how to put in the work that gets the results, because I don't think he could have handled disappointment from his parents on that front as well. I see him excelling because he's a smart nugget who saw opportunities and took them.

Check out the program if you're interested, it's really cool!

yeah, Nicky is The Goof of the monsters but let's not forget that boy was smart enough to be recommended to an exchange program after *at most* two years of learning german in a public school

[dwellordream]

Unexpected Facts about Victorian Era Girls, Part One

Specifically American girls of the middle and upper classes as detailed in Jane H. Hunter’s How Young Ladies Became Girls: The Victorian Origins of American Girlhood, a book I highly recommend even if you have no interest in history. It does a great job giving a lot of cultural context to the buildup to the ‘New Woman’ of the 1880s and 1890s and the newfound independence, education, and confidence experienced by many American women in the years before suffrage was granted. 

Middle class girls were more likely to be educated than middle class boys, as the education of a daughter (with the hopes she would marry into a family of a higher status) was seen as crucial to maintaining an air of respectability and gentility. The education of middle class sons beyond grammar school was seen as less important when they could simply follow their fathers or other relatives into the family trade. 

Even lower middle class families at the risk of falling into poverty often still insisted on educating their daughters rather than keeping them home to help their mothers or asking them to work to support the family. It was more likely sons would be refused a high school education as they could earn more money working a job than a daughter could. In 1872 53% of all American students were girls. By 1900 about 60% of American public high schoolers were girls.

While receiving a high school education increased a girl’s chances of finding work, a middle class daughter working, even as a ‘respectable’ teacher was still seen as something of a shame and embarrassment for the family. Despite this, by 1870 2/3rds of American teachers were women, and teaching wages plummeted as men left the profession. Teaching was generally seen as a ‘last resort’ by daughters from ‘respectable’ families, who were expected to aspire to marriage first and foremost. 

In order to find ‘good’ work, women were expected to have a high school education. This was not necessary for many men, who could be apprenticed on the job and thus could risk leaving school permanently at age 12 or 13. This accounted for girls outnumbering boys, sometimes by 70 % female versus 30% male, in many public high schools attended by middle class teens. 

In this sense, most families were sending girls to school not to educate them to join the workforce and pursue professional careers, but to become an ‘accomplished miss’ who could read and write to a high degree, understand French, Latin, and Greek, and attract a genteel husband. Despite this, many upper middle class girls did go on to attend college, and most women did not expect to marry until their early 20s. It was not unheard of for women to wait until their late 20s or even their early 30s. 

Girls’ boarding schools were popular throughout the mid to late 1800s, and while generally either Protestant or Catholic, some advertised themselves to Jewish girls as well, promising an elite education and good connections among the student body. However girls’ boarding schools were not known for their very rigorous academic demands and were largely about socializing and deportment. 

Victorian girls were known to enjoys pranks and mischief as much as boys and were often able to defy their teachers and wardens by banding together. Girls had pillow fights, stayed up late giggling, danced wildly into the night while playing the piano, pranked one another, and complained often about the poor food. 

Until the 1880s and 1890s, affectionate and even romantically tinged friendships between girls, especially at boarding school, were seen as normal and even encouraged by bemused adults. Girls frequently spoke of their crushes on one another, wrote heart wrenching poems about their feelings for each other, and paired up for most activities, such as walking to and from class and to church services. But by the turn of the century this began to be viewed with suspicion and unease by adults, who were more alarmed by the homosexual connotations and the possibility of girls sexually experimenting with one another. 

Boarding schools were not limited to white girls. The African American Scotia Seminary is one example of a prominent boarding school for Black girls in the years following the Civil War. Black girls expressed the same love for parties, pranks, and their friends in their diaries and journals. 

In contrast, coed schools were generally seen as far more rigorous and encouraged fierce competition between boys and girls in all aspects of school life. Girls and boys often had separate school newspapers, separate lunchrooms, and took the same classes separately, but were ranked together by the school, competing for the top spots. Despite this near egalitarianism, boys still typically dominated student government. 

Affluent and private high schools tended to have an even split between boys and girls, as those boys could afford an education, whereas less well off and public high schools were dominated by girls. 

Even in coeducational schools boys and girls rarely interacted outside of class, such as during lunch or recess. It was seen as inappropriate for them to play together past a certain age, and not unusual to see girls simply watching boys play games such as tag or leapfrog, enviously sitting on the sidelines. Even for older teen boys, playing games during their breaks was not seen as childish or embarrassing, and likewise girls were often still referred to as ‘little girls’ even at the ages of 15, 16, and 17. There was much Victorian anxiety about letting children mature too rapidly.

[ilove-cedricdiggory]

Moony

Remus x Reader

Part 2

Summary - After you left Remus after telling him about your pregnancy, you're now trying to juggle being pregnant by yourself in a foreign country, along with your three best friends searching for you.

Trigger Warning - Cursing, mentions of abortion, angst, it's longish? I think that's all. Let me know if there's more though.

Italics are letters, Bold is unknown to the readers.

America.

That's the only way you can really describe it. It is, well, America. Some places are incredibly beautiful, some terribly ugly. Some incredibly cold, some unbearably hot. Some busier than Diagon Alley on the day all the kids come to buy their things, some slower than a virgin's bedroom.

You hadn't seen much, especially seeing as how you had only been there for a week, but it was already more than you expected. You expected a stern talking to, you expected a bed rest, you expected a midwife in every thirty minutes, and you definitely expected to have someone at your side every second of the day. But, that wasn't what you got.

Especially seeing as how, your Great Grandpa kicked the rest of your family out of the house before you arrived, not wanting his favorite grandkid to be in an uncomfortable home, especially while she was growing his two great, great grandkids.

He was incredibly wealthy, a pure blood from England gone American. You had been the only one that actively spoke to him and visited him as often as you could while he lived in England. Now, your family was watching the sand fall in his hourglass to see who got the most money from his will. Honestly, though, you could see the man living another 200 years - just to spite them all.

He had taken you out, shown you incredible things, although you were stuck in a stupid state of unbearable heat - Texas. Although, the heat had taken you out of the sweaters that had you crying every time you got a whiff of his scent, and into some beautiful maternity sun dresses. You had already sent 20 pictures to Molly.

You had yet to write to Lily though, but her owls came twice a day, at least. You were starting to worry that she would get on James' broom and follow the owl herself to find you. Her letters really all stayed the same.

Y/n, just tell me where you are. I won't tell Remus, or Sirius. Heck, I won't even tell James. Harry and I will come visit and I'll tell you all about how I beat Remus' arse. Or how James did....Or how Sirius did. But, please, just write me back. I love you. I miss you incredibly.

Then you had

Y/n, come on, you really have me worried. The entire order has heard about what happened and I think they're all freaking out each second like we are. We miss you. You're the ray of Hufflepuff joy we all need, the always Ravenclaw intelligence the boys really need, the absolute Gryffindor bravery in the craziest of situations that the order needs, and the Slytherin strength I need. Please, just write back.

Then, she got help from the boys - or, the ones you would be open to hear from.

Y/n, while I have to be honest, Lily is standing over my shoulder watching me write this, I was going to do it either way. Remus was an absolute arse, I understand that, but we miss you. Lily, Harry and I want nothing more than for you to be home, with us even. You don't have to see him, you really don't. We just want to be here for you through this time, the good and the bad. Please write back.

When that didn't work, you had a howler from Sirius.

Y/n Y/l/n, I swear, if you don't write me back, I'm gonna jump into the paper and send myself! I'm going absolutely crazy watching Lily freak out every day! You're the only one that can calm her, not even James is doing it! You're taking away my precious James time! I fucking miss you - okay? Moony is an absolute dick. He deserved you walking out on him, he really did, but please don't walk out on all of us too. Y/n, we miss you, we really do. Moony isn't even here anymore, he left after we all went to Molly's - Sirius, don't tell her that! - Shit, fuck, how do I scratch that? Uhhh, I didn't say that. Erase! Erase! Lily, how do I erase on a howler? Fuck. Whatever. I'm sure it erased. But, come home. I'll make James make you that surprisingly good chicken he makes and I'm sure Lily would love to give you some old baby momma clothes or whatever the fuck they're called. I just - we just - no, I miss you, okay? Come home.

Your heart broke, not just because Remus was missing, but because your friends were hurt.

You sat down at the table in your guest house, sighing softly. A quill and some parchment sat before you, your hand shaking as you dipped it into the ink.

Lily, James, and Sirius.

While I know I could write a letter to each of you separately, I'm almost positive you're all together, or you're gonna call each other as soon as you get my letter.

I'm okay, I think. Not as okay as I wish I was, I cry a lot. While I wish I could blame it on the hormones, I know it's not. Everything reminds me of him, even here. No, I'm not in England, I'm in the states. I'm staying with some family and I think it's doing me well. At least, I've started to own my pregnancy.

After what Remus said to me, my body broke. I just about hated the fact that I was pregnant. Not my kids, just that I was pregnant. But, with each day, I realize that this pregnancy is the thing I needed most. While I wish I didn't have to say this - it showed me the man Remus is. Does that mean I cry any less? Of course not - you guys know me.

But, I really don't think I can come home, at least not yet. I'm still trying to figure out what I'm to do. I love Remus with every fiber of my being, but how do you love a man that told you to get rid of your own children, the minute he gets home from a mission he could have died from? How do you let him hold you as he feels the two children you both created grow in your belly knowing he hates them?

I'm going to come home eventually, of course I am. And I already promised Molly I'll be back for a visit soon, and you guys are more than welcome to come visit once I teach my family how to properly floo in America - did you know they don't do that here? It's super weird. But, I love you three incredibly. I'm so sorry this has happened. Be safe.

Your heart broke as you debated on writing more, about what your heart was still set on. Remus. Where was he? Where did he go? Had they heard from him? Was he looking for you? But you couldn't bring yourself to ask them.

The owl was sent with their letter, leaving you in the silence once more.

How could you feel so absolutely alone when you had people wanting nothing more than to be with you? Is it what you thought you deserved? They were his friends before they were yours. You felt horrible that they were taking your side. You felt your heart ripping slowly with each beat it made in it's spot in your being. It was like one half of your heart was tied to Remus' and with each beat away from him, it tore you apart - slowly, filling you with excruciating pain.

Five minutes after the letter was sent, you were standing, trying to find a way to busy your mind.

Ten minutes after the letter was sent, you were crouching in the corner, the weight of your predicament pressing down on you so hard, it's like it formed hands and was set on pushing you six feet under without any hole dug for your body.

Twenty minutes after the letter was sent, your body was shaking with it's sobs once more, the loss of not only your spouse, but also the friends you loved almost as much as him.

An hour later, you had fallen asleep on the floor, your mind groggy and your heart tearing with each beat, your conscious hoping to pull you away from the pain your felt in the body that was supposed to be yours - but belonged to the man who seemed to not want you anymore.

It was dark, so incredibly dark. The only thing that was seen was the moon, halfway full in it's wake. The only thing heard was the pads of feet stomping on the ground as they ran. Ran where? Ran why? You could feel the pain in your chest, but it was like it wasn't your own. As you came to a stop, you looked at a building that seemed a familiar kind of unfamiliar - although that didn't really make much sense to you.

Before you realized it, you were slumped over the toilet, letting out the contents of your stomach. One of your hands pulled your hair to one side of your shoulder, keeping it there. But all you could think was how badly you wish it was Remus holding your hair, rubbing your back as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

But all that mattered today was to get through it, like any other day.

One day following the motions.

Two days following the motions.

Three, four, five days.

Until your hands were pulled from your face, the skin around your fingers almost chewed to nothing, the warm face of Lily standing before you.

"If I see you bite your fingers one more time, I'm going to hex them to taste like Harry's dirty diapers." She spoke, pulling you up from your spot on the couch.

"Lily - I." You stopped, looking around her to see James, Sirius, and Harry. "How?" You asked, looking back into the eyes of your best friend.

"Your great grandpa is super cool. I think he was getting tired of all the letters we were sending him too and gave us the floo network here to knock you out of whatever it is you're in." Sirius spoke, Harry on his shoulders, pulling at his hair.

"You guys-" You were cut off with Lily pulling you into her hold, her larger belly pressed against yours as you both attempted to properly hug one another.

"I have missed you, so much" Her voice was soft, uncommon for Lily. Her hands held you tightly, almost like she was holding onto you to make sure you didn't disappear once more.

"Come on Lils, other people missed her too." Sirius spoke to cause her to pull away and glare at the man. "If you weren't holding onto my kid, I'd have hexed you so hard for that." She said, moving to grab Harry from his shoulders as James wrapped you up in a hug himself.

"If we hadn't seen you for another day, I think Lily was going to fly off on my broom." He said, causing you to laugh at your own prediction.

You finally got to Sirius, his arms holding you tighter than the two. "I'm sorry." He mumbled, his hold growing tighter. "What are you sorry for, Siri?" You asked him, pulling away to look into his face.

"What he said, what he did. That's not what you deserved." He mumbled, pushing your hair back a bit. "I swear, I about pounded his face in at Molly's. I think Arthur had to separate me magically." He trailed off, looking at the floor.

His words brought tears to your eyes once more, your heart feeling empty, yet full. "That's not your fault, Sirius. We all knew he didn't want kids, but we weren't careful. I don't know why his reaction surprised me." You were honest with them, having thought this entire thing was truly your fault.

The three of them surrounded you, their eyes narrow with intent. "Y/n, the last thing this is, is your fault. You're his fiancée, not a random person. Either way, those are his kids. He shouldn't have treated you like he did." James spoke with meaning, wanting you to understand each word he spoke.

Somehow, the four of you relaxed enough to find yourself growing to bed. You showed Sirius his room, a place where James and Lily can lay Harry, and then their own room, before finding your way to your own.

You laid in bed, wide awake. You knew what tonight was, the night before the full moon, and knew that Remus was probably out wherever he was, already in pain. Every turn was different, it truly was, but each night before the full moon, his body ached, his bones almost softened, knowing they would be breaking and turning in 24 hours, and his head psyched him out, especially when you weren't there. This was now the third full moon your financé was to handle without you.

You refused to cry, knowing Lily always had a third sense to that stuff, and willed yourself to sleep. But, you laid there.

And laid there.

And laid there some more, until you couldn't handle the quiet, and found yourself moving out of the room and towards Sirius'.

You had slept with Sirius before, each time when Remus was gone and your heart could hardly handle it. Now, the three hearts inside of you couldn't stand the guilt of not being with him.

The door didn't creak when you opened it, none of the floor boards made a sound, but that somehow made it worse. Your feet carried you to the dark haired man, seeing his sleeping frame move, sensing another person there.

His eyes jerked open, coming to look at you as he smiled sadly. "How did I know you'd come in here. Just can't resist the charm, can you?" His voice was deeper, rougher from sleep. It calmed you, but never like Remus' did. You waddled closer to the man, his arms opening for you as you crawled into him.

You both laid in silence, but awake now, as you took in the moment.

"I miss him, Siri. I know I shouldn't, I know I should hate him, but my entire being misses him." Your voice was softer than his was, much softer, but it wasn't because you were afraid of him, but because you were afraid of your own truth.

"I know you do. I know he misses you too. You guys are kinda like Lily and James, meant to be. He's just, an absolute git for this." His fingers worked in your hair, rubbing your scalp and causing your eyes to close in comfort.

"I thought we were meant to be too. But, he doesn't want me anymore. He doesn't want us." At that, Sirius rested a hand at your bump, this being the first touch they really had beside your own. "He does, he's just stupid and scared. Either way, you have us. Aunt Lily, Uncle James, and, the absolute best uncle in the world, Uncle Siri. We've got you." His sensere words lulled you to sleep, a sleep where you felt safe and happy falling into.

You were running again, but it didn't feel like you were in danger. It felt like you were running to run, really. Which, was something you did not do. You weren't in the woods, but you didn't know where you were. All you did know is that you were still scared. Absolutely, bone crushingly scared.

With each step you took, the fear grew. How could you possibly be this scared? You were looking for something, but you didn't know what. You were shaking, but from both the cold and the fear. You were shaking. Shaking. Shaking

Shaking. "Y/n, wake up!" Sirius was looking down at you, his eyes full of excitement. "Your great grandpa is showing us the American version of Diagon Alley today!" You smiled up at him, nodding.

"Okay, okay, let me get changed."

The four of you had left your Grandpa once he settled himself down to play some wizards chess, waving you off.

"You know where the house is when you're done, I've got a title to keep."

You wandered through stores, showing them the few things you had learned so far about the wizarding world here. The four of you had just walked into their version of Flourish and Blotts when you were stopped by an older couple. "Oh, you both look absolutely wonderful! I remember when I was that pregnant. How far are you both?" she was smiling at you and Lily, growing closer to you.

"I'm due in about a week and a half. We already have one, Harry, who's staying with her family." She had pointed to you, smiling at the older woman. "Oh, I'd expect you to be due any day now. Seconds always come early and you look family dropped. What about you dear?" She had looked to you, glancing at your own belly.

"Oh, I'm only a few months along. Twins." You laughed, your hand resting protectively on your belly. "Awe, that's lovely. You both look radiant. Two amazing father's, I hope?" She now looked at James and Sirius, smiling at them. "Oh, no, I'm not the father. Our best mate is." Sirius spoke, gesturing to you. "Well, I dunno, is he?" He asked, looking at the three of you. "It's complicated." Lily said, smiling.

The older woman nodded, smiling. "I completely understand. I wish you both the best of luck." She bid you all adu, leaving with her husband.

"I can't tell if that was awkward or sweet." James laughed, leading you all to the door to leave.

You all laughed as you walked through the Wizarding space until you and Lily began complaining about the swollen ankles and bloated stomach enough to convince James and Sirius to guide you both home.

As the day turned into night, you now showing your friends the muggle artifacts your grandpa has collected from his move to the states. That was, until Lily groaned in pain.

"Fuck, she was right." The young woman grumbled, clenching her bump. "What do you mean?" James asked, his hand on her back softly. "He's coming early, James. I'm in labor, fuck." She groaned again, tilting her head back at the pain she was feeling for the second time in her life.

"Shit, Sirius, go find some towels. I'll go tell grandpa to write the healer for labor." You spoke, pointing Sirius in the direction of the towels before moving to Lily. "It'll be okay, okay? Everything will be fine." She nodded, gripping your hand tightly as she looked in your eyes. She smiled before groaning once more, a contraction hitting her. "Okay, okay, healer. You guys lay her down." Sirius returned with multiple towels, James and him laying a few out before helping Lily lay down on them.

You turned to waddle out of your home, attempting to get to your grandpa's house as quickly as possible.

Three steps towards his house, you heard a twig snap.

Five steps towards his house, you heard a thud.

Nine steps towards his house, a figure stopped before you, it's frame furry and bent, a growl releasing from his lips.

A werewolf.

How the fuck is a werewolf standing in front of you, in the middle of fucking Texas, in a populated muggle area?

You took a few steps backwards, until it clicked.

The only Werewolf that would spend his full moon looking for you was the same werewolf that has plagued your mind for the past month.

Moony.

~

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[serene-victory-77]

Why The Crows Being Teenagers Is Actually Perfectly Realistic

There’s a TL;DR are the end because wow I like to rant.

I lightly discuss the general situations they’re all in to explore how they are frighteningly mature and competent, but it’s not particularly depressing or descriptive, it’s definitely lighter than the books

I thought about this post with a joke first: “People who think that Six of Crows is unrealistic because they’re so young clearly have not spent much time with traumatized honors students.”

It’s a bit of an exaggeration, but the point stands.

But I decided that, hm, actually, I could make a point about this. I totally agree with the aging up of the characters in the Shadow and Bone show, but when people straight up say that the books are wrong or unrealistic for having a young crew, I get annoyed, and here’s why (other than me reading the books for the first time when I was 13 and thinking ‘Huh okay, I see it’ and now being lowkey offended when people say they ignore it for being unrealistic):

On Inej

- At first I thought Inej’s wisdom and general demeanor was one of the most unrealistic things in the book

- When I thought about it longer, I was like “Actually, she’s 16, right? I’ve sent some of the most lyrical philosophy trying to help my friends while in high school. My friends have done the same. It’s valid.”

- Frankly, teenagers love hard-hitting philosophical truths. They love repeating what they’ve read or heard in movies and in books and from family stories. They love sharing little bits of wisdom they have come up with

- Inej’s ability to hear and understand philosophy and wisdom that she was surrounded by for 14 straight years and then sit on it and elaborate it for her friends to understand, or even just to piss them off in Kaz’s case? 

- Teenagers have that. They do it. So, Inej’s Wisdom passes, to me. It’s valid. 

As for her being calm

- You know how everyone jokes that Kaz seems calm on the outside but when you get to his POV he’s like “What the fuck” at the Van Eck house or just straight up “Huh, is this revenge for making tree jokes” at the Djel River thingy in the Ice Court?

- Inej is like that, too. And she gets angry, and she gets confused, or exhausted.

- AKA every quiet kid ever. Like, are you kidding? Have you ever been in a situation in which it’s literally chaos all around you, people are screaming and things are being destroyed (think middle school classroom with bitchy long term substitute and even worse students), and you’re just, calm? You pick up your things, you do what you need to do?

- That’s Inej. Like, what else is she gonna do? She’s smart enough to know that panicking won’t help anyone, and so she just rides it out. Internally she might be like “Why is this happening” but frankly, her being quiet and controlled in most situations is probably a coping mechanism and I respect that

- Pretty sure this is also based on the fact that the Suli have no land for their own and constantly have to keep moving. It might align with generational trauma, I’m sure someone could explain it better than me, but being able to keep your cool while constantly having to change and adapt to new situations, in, say, a country with hellfire politics and no land to call your own? Seems like a hereditary trait that could be useful in Ketterdam, although it’s sad.

On Inej’s abilities

- Simone Biles started training when she was 6 and went to the World Artistic Gymnastics Championships when she was 16, where she qualified in all the events. 

- There are videos of people walking over tightropes as young as three years old. We know Inej didn’t start that young, but not only was she naturally talented at it, but she spent a lot of time practicing. I think it’s valid. Plus, some of her family members do some pretty crazy things in her flashbacks, because that’s the whole point of what they do. 

- Youngest person to beat American Ninja Warrior was 16 year old Vance Walker

- Inej has a variety of of tools that help her wall climb, and while it’s true that she started young and got good really fast, she already had a history of physical work that would help her, and from what we can gleam from the book, a surprising amount of free time in which she was actively encouraged to learn everything she could. 

So that’s Inej! I think her skills are perfectly possible for someone with her history and situation. It’s true that she’s naturally skilled, but that’s not actually all that unusual. And her demeanor and wisdom do fit in with what a lot of teenagers are like and the circumstances she was brought up in

Onto Kaz!

- One thing I hear about is that Kaz is too smart for not having gone to school and also too young to know all that he does

- Do you all KNOW how many self-taught people there have been in this world? The word for people who are self-taught is autodidacts, and honestly a huge amount of famous people apply. Like many, many other people in history (there’s a whole list of them in Wikipedia), he had an vested interest in a field and he learned all he could. Sure, those fields were magic tricks and math, but still.

- Suddenly I have a lot of thoughts

- Okay, think, hyperfixations. That’s essentially what Kaz’s thing with magic tricks was, right? Have any of you ever spent time with an eight year old that clearly really, really loves dinosaurs? Those kids can spout names and facts and identify them by their skeletons and frankly know more than I ever will. Kaz’s was magic tricks. All kids are special.

- Kaz continued working on magic tricks and practicing them for years, so, I think that gets a pass. 

- As for the math! Look, a Fact Of Life is that some kids are just Like That, whether it be possibly from neurodivergence or other factors:

- Flo and Kay Lyman are twins with Autism who basically have the calendar of EVER memorized. Kaz memorizing card decks is sensible, and these ladies don’t need to look up anything to figure it out, so Kaz doing sums inside his head seems plausible. His “photographic memory’ isn’t impossible, although the term itself might be incorrect.

- Katherine Johnson who worked at NASA (yes, the lady from Hidden Figures), was so good at math that she was in high school by age 10 and went to college at age 15. It’s true that she had some teaching, but 1. There’s no evidence Kaz had absolutely no schooling, even if it was just at home with books and 2. Kaz was 9 when he came to Ketterdam, and after Jordie died, when he wasn’t surviving, he was learning. 

- Human calculator is a term that is applied to children a lot and there’s definitely plenty of videos showing how smart these kids are and them doing mental math easily, which he does in the books

- He had a LOT of pressure on him to figure out all he could, and if he wanted to move forward, he was going to have to learn a lot. He spent hours practicing magic tricks, for all we know he spent hours practicing math too. We know Jordie was a bit of a bookworm too, so Kaz from a young age probably already had a reason to learn. Personally, a lot of my love for books was inspired by my older sibling when I was younger

- Young people are adaptable. Kaz is incredibly adaptable. The term prodigy exists because of people like him through history. 

- As for him being rational, there’s no other way to survive. Some of the greatest soldiers in history have been very, very young, and very, very smart. It’s true tacticians are generally considered to be older, but that doesn’t mean there haven’t been very young ones. 

- A lot of the generals I found were like, 19 years old, but Kaz is 1. not a general and 2. in a place where young people take up the mantle really, really quickly, and frankly it’s been like that for a long time. I still think this passes. This isn’t relevant but William the Conqueror was apparently called “The Bastard”?

- Frankly, underground communities of thieves probably don’t go around publishing their escapades so to me it makes sense that I can’t just look up “famous young thieves” and get anything that makes sense, but I did try

- Y’all I tried to do research on youngest escape artists since I think Kaz qualifies and I found myself in what I think is a magicians forum? It’s from 2002-ish and I feel like I’ve just found a relic. I can’t definitely prove they’re all saying the truth, but some of the people there talk about 10-11 year olds at magic camps, so, it’s not impossible for this to be a skill Kaz learned really young, particularly when he made a habit of following around magicians

- I think he passes the realism check overall

For the other Crows:

- Nina being so proficiently multilingual makes sense to me, because she’s been in the Little Palace almost her entire life with all the best teachers they could afford at her disposal. Some people just click with languages. One such would be Timothy Doner, who spoke 23 languages at 16. 

- Nina is a child soldier. She of course can handle the battlefield, although I imagine there’s a degree of trauma that she has to deal with (although it’s true that most of her work was always meant to angle her towards being a spy).

- Jesper was taught to shoot from a young age by Aditi, who was likely incredibly proficient. Plus, there’s mentions of him and his father being on some sort of frontier at one point in the books, so, it’s likely that Jesper got his fair share of ‘being a child soldier” since he would’ve been 15 or younger. Plus, with being a Fabrikator, he gets a leg up

- Jesper’s smart y’all, he just also likes to have fun

- I am a little terrified by the fact that I looked up ‘youngest sharpshooter’ and found out about a 9 year old girl (Addysson “Addy” Soltau) who can indeed shoot guns, but uh, it does prove my point

- Matthias... I haven’t heard anyone really argue about Matthias. He’s the oldest at 18 and again, he’s essentially a religious child soldier. Of course he would be built af and know how to handle himself in a fight, and in a flashback about meeting Trassel, we’re told that he was actually distanced from the other boys and was the biggest and strongest/smartest of the group. Perhaps not compared to Kaz, but still

- We know how Wylan ended up how he is, so I don’t think i have to defend how he’s both a musical prodigy, good at math, and good at chemistry. Plenty of kids who can’t do one thing will immediately gravitate to a different field (think AP math students who can’t write essays, or those kids who could analyse a book and it’s metaphors in class but didn’t understand geometry).

- Granted he took it far but it’s kinda implied that  his father ignored him eventually and what else was Wylan going to do

- I don’t really know how he did chemistry while not being able to read the symbols and stuff, but that’s likely because I’ve never had to learn the way he did and also I really suck at Chemistry, but I refuse to believe that it invalidates his capabilities

Final Thoughts:

- They’re Traumatized Honors Students

- People might say that “it’s unrealistic that all the smart ones somehow ended up together” but again they’re traumatized honors students and those gravitate to each other

- Of course the smart ones ended up together, they’re the ones in those crazy situations precisely because they are prodigies. Nina wouldn’t have met Matthias if she wasn’t skilled and a spy, Kaz wouldn’t have known Inej if she hadn’t been skilled at silence (I can’t explain that one but uh ninjas did/do exist and it IS still a fantasy world). Kaz would have never been a leader of the Dregs in a position to find Jesper if he hadn’t been so determined to rise to the top, and Jesper wouldn’t have been in Ketterdam if his father hadn’t thought that Jesper was smart enough to get that chance.

- You know how those fringe revolutionary artists for new eras end up knowing all knowing each other and even hanging out? That’s them.

- I have decided there is a strong basis for Autistic Kaz, someone who is more studied than me should feel free to explore this.

- I read this book a few years ago, A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah. It’s about this guy’s experiences as a boy soldier and it’s a painful read so I’m not sure I recommend it as a casual read, but he talked about these young kids being able to actually make competent military strategies and handle warfare. It’s an extreme example of what I’m trying to explain when it comes to them being able to handle the brutality of their situation, but it’s true, essentially

- They are definitely serious, but if you think they’re not teenagers I just, disagree so much. They have moments of lighthearted banter, they make light of their situation, they try to support each other Nina covers it so well in her farewell at the end of Crooked Kingdom: The little rescues of laughing at each others jokes or eating together and just supporting each other, is not only a very human thing, but a very teenager thing. 

- Scary experiences that shape us happen all the time, and although for most it’s not the things that the Crows experience, picking each other up is a big part of why they do read as teenagers to me. I’ve seen kids be able to seriously converse about things like being questioned by the police, or being left to their own devices for days at a time, or the general impending doom they all feel, and it’s dark, but they’re also going to joke about silly puns 20 minutes later. 

- Teenagers aren’t exempt from terrifying maturity and competence

- Finally: Despite all I said, it’s a fantasy story and doesn’t have to be realistic

In the end, everyone can believe what they want to believe, but this is my case for my opinion.

TL;DR The Crows are all prodigies and a lot of their achievements and capabilities are based in reality and there are real people who actually achieved things like what they’ve done. Messed up prodigies gravitate to messed up prodigies, hence how they all end up together. When it comes to their mental state, most of them have been brought up their entire lives in situations that required for them to problem solve and keep their cool even when things are going to hell.

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Audrey Roget

Audrey Roget has 10 fics at Gossamer, with some different ones at AO3, fanfiction.net, and her website. You might know her from her very good fics or as part of Musea, a collective that all wrote fic and posted X-Files fic recs. I’ve recced some of my favorites of her stories here before, including Three Times Dana Scully Didn’t Go to San Diego for Christmas and The Shirt. Big thanks to Audrey for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)? A little, yes. Not so much by folks who were around in those days. I sometimes go hunting for beloved stories from the early years, both those I read and loved, and those I never got around to. I am always delighted to hear that later generations of fans have stumbled across my stuff, especially since I haven’t posted anything new in a number of years. It’s fantastic that both years-long fans and new ones are out there continuing to rec fic from all eras, and to maintain archives for fans yet-to-be born. What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it? What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general? It may sound corny, but the main thing I think of, and the thing that has ultimately been most valuable and lasting, has been the friendships. The feeling of having found a tribe – not just of TXF fans, but of other people who could be as enthusiastically engaged as I was (if not more so) with fictional stories and characters – was mind-blowing. Since I was a kid, I had often mulled over the books/movies/TV I loved and speculated internally about what happened off the page or off-screen, or created new stories for characters in my head. But, except for an elementary school phase where I and my two BFFs regularly played Charlie’s Angels, I hadn’t engaged in that kind of gleeful immersion in a fictional world with others until TXF fandom. My involvement in fandom followed pretty quickly from getting hooked on the show, so for me, it’s all one big ball of experiences. Even as my interest in/involvement in fandom has waxed and waned over the years, I’ve been lucky to remain friends with wonderful people who I originally connected with as fellow fans.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)? What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

My initial entrée to the fandom was through fanfiction. I didn’t get interested in the show until mid-season 5. Around the same time, I read an article in a zine called Might (co-founded by Dave Eggers) about this thing called fanfiction that people would write and publish online. At first I thought it was satire or a joke – the fic cited involved Wilma Flintstone and a polished sabre tooth, as I recall – but then realized this was an actual thing. So I figured that a show then at the peak of pop culture must have fanfiction, and I went looking. Early on, I scrolled atxc on a daily basis and downloaded stories. But I didn’t engage in discussions about the show on Usenet, since I only knew how to access it with my Earthlink email client, and I didn’t want to post using my real name.

Later, I set up a pseud address with Yahoo and subscribed to a couple of email fanfic/discussion lists, and stayed subscribed to those for years. There was also a period in there somewhere – of maybe only a year or so, when I think about it – when I’d often nerd out into the wee hours with other fans via IM chat groups. That was around the time the small writers’ collective Musea was founded, and we were active for several years after the show’s initial run. In the early aughts, I followed many authors to LiveJournal and eventually set up my own account and stayed involved in fandom that way, until it mostly dispersed as well. What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show? In a word: Chemistry. I had casually watched a couple of episodes during the first four seasons, but I’m not a huge sci-fi/horror fan at heart, and the story lines didn’t immediately grab me. But I happened to tune into The Red and the Black in 1998, and BOOM. For the first time, the intense layers of emotion and attraction between Mulder and Scully really struck me – and then of course, upon further viewing, I realized it was unmissable, an essential element in the fabric of the show. As a wise woman once said, a switch had been flicked. Mulder and Scully’s magnetism was like nothing I’d ever seen, and though I eventually came to appreciate the storytelling, humor, production values, and other components that made the series so successful, watching those characters interact has always been what kept me coming back. Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files? I was part of a list-serv discussion group for The West Wing for a while, which was a fun melding of character and plot analysis with political discussion. Later, I got into the House, MD fandom, again mostly as a fanfic reader/writer. I was finding that other fandoms, unlike TXF, were more dispersed, the networks of people structured more loosely, if at all. There were fanfic and discussion communities on LiveJournal, and fanfiction.net was the other main hub for posting and reading, but if there was anything centralized like Gossamer, Ephemeral, or the Haven, I never found it. Within all those fan communities, as in TXF, there were partisans for various characters and pairings, and flame wars erupted over plot developments that outraged this faction or that. One main difference was that those other shows had larger, ensemble casts and more varied subplots. So on one hand, there was more opportunity to explore back stories and multiple perspectives. In House MD in particular, there were several entrenched rival shipper camps, which were about equally grounded in canon, rather than TXF’s central ship. I was less into TWW fic, but my impression was that readers were less militant about their pairing preferences than TXF or House fans. Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

I was deeply fascinated by Greg House for several years. (And the love-hate chemistry between him and Lisa Cuddy was a strong draw for me.) House MD came early in a wave of TV shows centered on anti-heroes, and Hugh Laurie brought amazing complexity and thoughtfulness to the character.

Philip and Elizabeth Jennings (The Americans) are a lethal pair of antiheroes. The inherent moral conflict of a sympathetic narrative from their POVs, and the global political conflict they embody was TV catnip for me. The internal struggles at the hearts of those characters were so exquisitely written and performed, they completely fascinate me.

The West Wing felt so much like a show created specifically for me. I’m especially fond of story arcs and scenes that centered on CJ Cregg, Charlie Young, and Josh Lyman. Though I loved Martin Sheen’s human portrayal of Jed Bartlet, the fact that he was the President always made him a little untouchable in my mind. But CJ, Charlie, and Josh were basically hard-working functionaries who were ambitious and idealistic and funny and flawed, and they spoke to me. What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I do continue to think about Mulder and Scully and watch episodes somewhat often. I’ll sometimes run a favorite episode as background when I want something comforting on. I read TXF fic pretty regularly, which can inspire me to go back and watch a particular episode or story arc I haven’t thought about in years. Just recently, I started listening to The X-Files Diaries podcast (@XFDPodcast, @admiralty-xfd), and that’s a fun dive into the characters, and how other fans react to and interpret episodes.

Every once in a while, a TV show or movie – and more particularly, the characters – will grab my attention and make me curious about how fanfic writers have interpreted the original material. Random example, I saw Singin’ in the Rain for the first time in a theatre a couple of years ago, and the chemistry of the three leads sent me to AO3 as soon as I got home. I also loved the first season of Mercy Street and found some well-done stories in that fandom. I usually peruse the Yuletide gifts every year and have been amazed by the sheer variety, creativity and cheekiness of the output. There are a bunch of other shows I’ve followed faithfully, and sought out fanfic – Broadchurch, The Killing, Agents of SHIELD, Elementary, The Good Wife. Although I’ve found some well-written stuff in those fandoms, I’ve rarely gotten the same charge from them as reading TXF fic. Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

syntax6 (@syntax6) – Universal Invariants/Laws of Motion. I’d also shout out to syn’s Hunter fics, too – well worth reading even for those who have never seen or particularly loved the show itself.

JET – I re-read Small Lives Awake every year around Thanksgiving time. Other annual holiday re-reads: Revely’s The Dreaming Sea and Jordan’s Through the Fire (both set at Halloween).

Amal Nahurriyeh’s Casey universe – the rare post-col fic that felt hopeful, made extra intriguing by a kick-ass original character. [Lilydale note: the series starts with Machines of Freedom and has lots of additional fics and snippets.]

Prufrock’s Love – Finding Rokovoko was genuinely terrifying and tender.

melforbes (@melforbes) – Seaglass Blue is a recent favorite, lyrical and bittersweet.

These are just a few (apologies to those that didn’t come to mind immediately). Fortunately for readers, there’s an astonishing number of authors who have written in TXF fandom whom you can depend on for a good yarn, insightful character study, and/or ingenious “fixes” where 1013 went awry.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Probably the two set in my own (former) backyard of Southern California: Enivrez-vous and Ravenous. I’d first read the Baudelaire poem that was the source of the former’s title back in university days, so I was tickled to be able to use a few lines as an epigraph. Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online? It’s not out of the realm possibility. I’d meant for “Three Times Dana Scully Didn’t Go to San Diego for Christmas” to be followed up with “And One Time She Did.” In fact, the idea for that never-finished story was what inspired “Three Times” in the first place. I have a couple of scenes sketched out and – unusually for me – even know exactly how to end it. Every year, November rolls around, and I think I should finish and post it…maybe in 2021?

Where do you get ideas for stories? Sometimes it’s from my environment. “Enivrez-vous” and “Ravenous” describe places that I’m fond of, that made me want to place Mulder and Scully there. “What Not to Wear” has that element too – I set it in Memphis as a tribute to a great trip there with a sister Musean. But WNTW was also inspired by a kink challenge in a years-ago LiveJournal thread, so sometimes ideas come from fandom discussions or even other fanfics. In the House MD fandom, a fic by another writer made me want to continue the story, and the author kindly allowed an authorized sequel. What's the story behind your pen name? I wanted my pseudonym to sound like it could be a real person’s name – or at least, maybe like a romance writer’s pen name – rather than an online handle. I also wanted to use a slightly obscure fictional character, to amuse anyone in the know. I had long had a bit of an obsession with Whit Stillman’s 1990s film trilogy, which started with Metropolitan; the 3rd installment, Last Days of Disco, came out the same year I started down the TXF rabbit hole: 1998. The central heroine of Metropolitan – who is mentioned in or makes a cameo in the other two – is Audrey Rouget, a lover of Austen and, eventually, a book editor. I altered the spelling of the last name as a nod to every writer’s companion, Roget’s Thesaurus. Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions? I have a few close friends – from outside TXF fandom – who know that I’ve written fanfic. I don’t know if they know my pseud; if they do, or if they’ve ready any of the fic, they haven’t said so to me. They are fannish sorts themselves, but not really TXF fans. A smattering of other friends and family members know or could intuit that I’ve been a fangrl on some level for years. My boss, whom I’ve known for about 3 years, recently mentioned off-handedly that she was really obsessed with TXF “back in the day,” and I am DYING to know if she got involved in fandom, but don’t think I’ll ever work up the courage to ask.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now? Most of the X-Files stuff continues to be generously and steadfastly archived by Forte at The Basement Office. The House MD stories and some TXF things are at fanfiction.net; same for AO3. If ever post anything new, it will probably go to TBO and AO3. I really ought to get it all together in one place, one of these days…

(Posted by Lilydale on April 6, 2021)

[im-just-a-random-fandom-girl]

trying to articulate my frustrations with Marvel’s treatment of female characters and characters of color

Hi, hello, hola, bonjour. I've been having a lot of thoughts about Marvel’s lack of diversity and of how they treat minority characters, so I'm taking a page out of Luisa’s (@its-tortle) book and just making a long, rambley post to get it all out.

Please bear with me while I try to encapsulate all of my frustration within the limitations of English language.

(ALSO, I'm white. I’m Spanish-American, but I do not have the ability to speak for fans of color and the other grievances they have. This post is just a combination of my own thoughts and what I've heard other people say on Tumblr, in YouTube videos, in articles etc.)

Now that we've had over week to collect ourselves after the WandaVision finale, because it was such a tearjerker and the end of a true masterpiece of a show, we really need to talk about how Marvel treats their their characters of color and female characters. I'll specifically be looking at Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, and Monica Rambeau.

Let's start with Sam.

Until Monica Rambeau became Photon just a few weeks ago in WandaVision, Sam was THE ONLY Black superhero in the MCU.

He first appeared in Captain America: The Winter Soldier 7 years ago in 2014, and he's been in 4 movies since then (not counting the post-credits of Ant-Man).

Let's see what we know about Sam in the MCU:

He was a pararescue airman in the U.S. Airforce

His wing-man, Riley, died in combat, prompting him to leave active duty

He works at the VA to help other veterans adjust to civilian life

That's it. This is all we know about his backstory, separate from Captain America. However, the MCU decided to include these parts of his backstory, (and exclude others) because they make him a better supporting character to Steve.

Sam's a vet - so is Steve. They have the same, early-morning run routine that alludes to strict military training. Steve is still new to the future and hardly knows or approaches anyone, but Sam is wearing his VA sweatshirt, so there's some sense of connection, one that is furthered when they talk about their beds being too soft. Sam is someone who can understand him, aside from being a super soldier.

Riley, Sam's wingman, died in combat - Hmm, haven't heard that one befo - oh, wait. *Bucky waves from the abyss of the Alps*. Yeah.

I'm not saying that these connections are bad, in fact, I think the opposite. In terms of storyline, these connections are incredibly important for their friendship. Steve is lost and alone in the future. No one he knows cares about him for any reason other than the fact that he's a super soldier, nor can he relate to any of those people on any level. Sam just fits. He's funny and kind and although they are 60 years apart in age, he can, to some extent, understand what Steve is going through in a way they no one else can.

But for the last 7 years in the MCU, all he's been is Steve's supportive friend.

Almost immediately after meeting Steve, Sam is dragged into an end-of-the-world battle. He readily agrees to put his life on the line to fight by Captain America's side. After SHIELD falls, Sam gives up his life for 2 years to help Steve find Bucky. When they find him, Sam, without a second thought, becomes an international fugitive to protect Bucky and Steve.

I mean, he practically says that he lives in Steve's shadow himself: 

"Don't look at me. I do what he does, just slower."

Who does all this? Seriously? Sam is also a recovering vet. He, in theory, has a life, a family, a job, his own mental well-being to consider, but he immediately gives it all up to help Captain America, to follow in his shadow, to be his back-up and support in every battle. Marvel wrote him as a 2D character that lacks his own identity and agency.

Sam deserves his own storyline; he deserves to exist outside the orbit of Steve Rogers.

What Mackie has been able to do with the character is astounding. He took Sam off the page and truly brought him to life, turning him into a beloved character. I'm ecstatic that both Mackie and Sam finally (hopefully) get their time to shine in TFATWS, but it should have happened WAY sooner. Marvel has continuously overlooked Mackie, despite how much he brings to the movies and despite the significance of Sam as the only Black superhero. It's just so clear that they do not care about representation.

(And let's not start with the whole "Bucky should be Captain America" thing, thanks)

Next, let's talk about Natasha.

Nat has been in the MCU for 11 years, starting with Iron Man 2 in 2010. She was heavily featured in an additional 6 MCU movies (not including small cameos/post-credit sequences). She's one of the few female superheroes in the MCU, and the only one that's been there since the beginning. Nat was the only female superhero for 4 years until Gamora appeared in Guardians of the Galaxy.

Let's see what we know about Natasha's history:

She's a former KGB operative and assassin, trained in the Red Room project

When she was a part of the Red Room, she was sterilized

Clint Barton got her out of the Red Room and converted her to a SHIELD agent

THAT'S IT. The second point is actually nauseating because this is what she says to Banner when we learn about her infertility in Age of Ultron:

"They sterilize you. It’s efficient. One less thing to worry about, the one thing that might matter more than a mission. It makes everything easier — even killing. You still think you’re the only monster on the team?"

Like, actually, what the fuck? I remember watching this scene and having to rewind because I thought I mis-heard what she said. In truth, Natasha is probably referring to the terrible things she was forced to do as a KGB operative are what make her a "monster," but why in the world would they include this anecdote here?? It's just so distasteful and disgusting! It makes it seem like her infertility is what makes her a monster, perpetuating the misogynistic belief that the center of a woman's identity and purpose is to have children.

As Vox says in this article, the subject of Nat's infertility 

"rears its head sub-textually when Black Widow sacrifices herself for the Soul Stone. [...] It’s reasonable for Natasha to make the calculation that Clint’s kids deserve to have a dad when they come back to life after the Avengers complete their “time heist.” But because of that Ultron plot, there’s also an insidious implication that Natasha’s infertility renders Black Widow just a little bit more disposable than the rest of her teammates."

Furthermore, Nat's death in Endgame serves for nothing more than motivation for the other characters working in the time heist, WHICH ARE ALL MALE. Even then, the other characters talk about her death briefly (in a mostly unaffected manner), and by the end of the movie, she's been pretty much forgotten about,  completely overshadowed by Tony Stark.

I don't want to say that Nat shouldn't have died in Endgame. It caused me so much heartache and emotional pain, but I truly believe it was a great way to end her arc. CinemaWins on YouTube put it best:

"She needed to save her family, Clint included, finally wiping the red from her ledger. So much of her jouney in the MCU was trying to find her purpose, figure out which side she was on, and she finally feels like she's found it, just in time to die for it. 

"It's not wrong to feel cheated by her death, [but I think] she deserved this moment because of it's importance."

She says it in the movie: 

"I used to have nothing, and then I got this. This family. And I was better because of it."

Nat shouldn't have to die, but it's on her terms, and she is absolutely ready for it. Saving her chosen family... that is her purpose.

But altogether, over the course of the MCU, Natasha was cheated out of getting the storyline she deserved. Like Sam, she was relegated to the position of the supportive friend of Steve, but also of Bruce and Clint. For the audience, her identity is tied to this role that she plays. The identity and motivations she has independent from these other characters, her history, is skimmed over, and treated with immense disrespect.

It took 11 years, but it is thrilling that Scarlett Johansson finally gets to be the start of her own Marvel movie. There is no way that Black Widow will be able to completely make up for her and Natasha's mistreatment by the MCU, but I hope it will at least bring us some closure and allow us to have a better understanding of Nat's history and who she is away from the other Avengers.

Last, but certainly not least (despite what WandaVision may have you believe) is Monica Rambeau.

I spoke about this last week after posting about this review of the show, but it bears repeating.

Monica is a new character. You'd hope that, after 11 years of extremely limited diversity in the MCU, much to the dismay of fans worldwide, and after recognizing this and creating a movie with a cast like The Eternals, Marvel would try to get their shit together across the board.

Nope!

Monica was seriously the token diversity character of the show. It seemed like they would give her more depth after the episode during which they flashed back to the her during and after the snap, losing her mother, and seeing a little bit of what she's done as an adult since Captain Marvel, but that ended up being the most we got.

But why? Monica literally became a SUPERHERO. She became Photon! She deserved a much greater role in the show, especially in the finale, where she instead had maybe 5 lines and just stopped some bullets for about 30 seconds.

As the review I linked says, 

“There are so many black writers, fans, and critics noting how Monica got relegated to a complete lack relegated to meaningless best friend protector lacking in their own self agency and story except for making a shoehorned comparison of grief.”

Marvel made the same, bull-headed mistake that they made with Sam with Monica!

Let's do this again. Monica was snapped away for 5 years, and when she was snapped back, she learned that her mother had died. Losing someone you love and having the whole process of mourning and pain be complicated by the snap? What an interesti- oh wait. *Vision phases his head through the wall with a smile*

The only reason we got this backstory was because it made her a more sympathetic character towards Wanda. Her understanding of what Wanda is going through allows her to be the catalyst in the creation of the ideological fork in the road between herself, Darcy and Woo, who see Wanda as a victim of grief and loss, and Hayward and the rest of SHIELD, who see her as a dangerous threat.

How do you make the same, major mistake that you've been making for the past 7 years again? Guess what? You don't! Maybe it's not intentional, but Marvel, again, clearly doesn’t care enough about their characters of color to consider the roles they relegate them to in the MCU, realize what they've been doing is harmful, and then change it.

Hopefully, they will not continue to treat Monica this way and will remedy this in the next Captain Marvel.

In conclusion: MARVEL GAVE A FUCKING ROBOT AN ACTUAL ORIGIN STORY, A RELATIONSHIP AND MORE INDEPENDENCE THAN ALL OF THESE CHARACTERS.

But in all seriousness, Marvel needs to be help accountable for how they treat women and their characters of color in the MCU. I just looked at 3, but you could also make a similar argument about Rhodey, Hope van Dyne and Valkyrie, as well as Jane Foster, MJ, and Ned, although they are supporting characters and not superheroes. And I'm sure there are many others. Marvel (and Disney!!) has had an awful track-record, and change is long overdue.

[captainsimagines]

Titanic || H.S

Part Two || “You.”

“And tell us about that Titanic! I hear it’s as grand as Buckingham Palace! Unsinkable!”

Warnings: This book contains mature themes and discussions, such as gun violence, emotional and physical abuse, attempted suicide, mentions of blood, character deaths, heavy sexual content, and reference to the real maritime disaster of the 1912 cruise liner Titanic.

The needle a centimeter away from your finger and the one sitting between your incisors each created a rattling noise as you pressed the pump with your left foot and created a steady vibration. You opened and closed your lips ever so slightly in concentration. It was an evident possibility that your finger could inch its way too close to the hopping needle or that your tongue could swivel onto the pointed end and prick a drop of blood. But determination got the best of you as you heard the giggles and confident praises the seamstresses emitted. The stitching of your first full sweater would be completed in mere seconds, its elegant trail smiling right back up at you as the needle halted to a fine finish. 

The ladies cheered as you carefully removed the sleeve from under the machine, holding your first completed work of art up in the air for everyone to marvel at. It was a dark green color, similar to how you would imagine those black and white photographs concealed the true pigment of the vast Amazon rain forest. It was easily donned over one’s head and onto the body in a swift movement of lifted arms and lacked the tightness of your dated Victorian clothing. It welcomed a breezy and comfortable afternoon with tea and silent tranquility. It was simple but the ladies in the workshop would not let your first completed stitching go unnoticed. You were a valued customer, as was your mother years ago before she began buying from more established designers, and their exclamations were definitely ones full of pride. 

“It’s a wonder you finished so quickly! Come, let’s have a look at what you’ve accomplished!”

The ladies made sure the doors were locked before you stripped away your upper layers and uncomfortable corset. You breathed a sigh of a relief and a chuckle of reassurance for the worried faces staring back at you. You pulled the masterpiece over your head and immediately squealed in delight, happy that the fabric which treated your working hands delicately also did the same for your torso. It was slightly bigger than your form, baggy enough for you to fit both arms inwards as a blanket. You hugged yourself and swayed back and forth, smiling from the cheers and claps surrounding you. 

“There we go! Now you’re a proper seamstress!”

A few ladies scolded the woman who spoke of your ‘low’ title, but you quickly dismissed their worry. “It’s alright! I believe this new clothing item earned me a proper title.”

The ladies all congratulated your hard work once again but were interrupted by a hard knock on the door. It seemed all knew who was lurking behind the wood, the atmosphere altering to one of uneasy stillness. 

You sighed quietly, “Just go on.”

Everyone obliged, quickly picking up where they had left off before they had come to crowd around you and gawk at your hard work. You disregarded your other clothing laying on the floor and left your green sweater on. 

You yourself were a sight to marvel at, all done up in the face with regular-looking clothing somehow tainting the priceless property of your soon-to-be husband. Or maybe he had already placed a price tag on your skin, like how they mark cattle with an abrupt hot stab. You never knew anything these days. 

George cleared his throat and conducted a quick visual scan of the room. “You’re needed at the house, Miss.”

You breathed in deeply, mentally rolling your tired eyes at your fiancé’s personal bodyguard hire. It wasn’t that he was a total annoyance to have around, but that he was the most colossal annoyance to have entered your life after your fiancé, Cal. His eyes would never leave your body - not in an inappropriate manner but as caution for your safety. It was only on Tuesday you were able to free yourself from the constraints of your busy life to buy groceries alone, downtown, without help. It had become extra enjoyable to extend that peace by befriending the townspeople and participating in their daily lives. You didn’t view this as offensive simply because none of the seamstresses voiced a personal grievance. You wanted to partake in a normal activity, a hobby, in something you could actually call yours and not passed down through generations. But perhaps naming this a hobby while these women referred to it as their one underpaid job was privilege after all. 

“Do they need me immediately or do they simply want me home?”

Your questions once startled George as you proved to be quite the pistol, answering back and reminding him that you outrank him as well, not just Cal. It was rude to do so, you acknowledged, but the sudden burst of adrenaline your body experienced anytime you would not follow Cal’s orders easily were beginning to feel like a forbidden midnight craving. But George laughed off your wit and proceeded to point to your abandoned corset and upper part of your dress, as if telling you to suit up, and walked away to wait for you in the car, a cigarette in between his index and middle finger.

As you shut the door for some well-deserved privacy, some ladies of the shop narrowed their eyes while others shared their stares of pity. You had briefly mentioned your lack of desire to marry at such a young age, wanting to marry for love instead of insurance. While some of the ladies understood your point of view, others could not possibly believe you would give up the chance to settle down and be financially stable for the rest of your life. It was a difference of opinion and class, but one thing was certain - none of you were free from the constraints of men. 

You sadly stripped away the warmness of your sweater and lifted the white corset from the chair beside the sewing machine. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor and hurried footsteps painted a shy smile on your face. You remembered her name was Linda and watched as she rushed behind you to pull the strings of your corset slightly tighter than they already were. She was a middle-aged woman, more experienced than most women hired and perhaps the best. She had been the first to welcome you to the shop, teaching you the ropes of sewing - first by hand and then by machine. Linda often called her mentorship a privilege to conduct and made you promise to improve. 

“Oh, Miss. I know life isn’t what you want it to be, but when does it ever work out for people like us?”

You turned your head over your shoulder slightly to look at her, “You mean us women?”

Linda cleared her throat uncomfortably and finished tightening the last bit of your corset. “Yes, but… pardon me, Miss but I think you have more choice than the lot of us women combined. ”

Linda held out your jacket so you could tuck your arms in. You understood her point in matters of class, but as you slid your arms through the sleeves and saw how the glimmer of sunlight danced off your brown skin, you evaluated the types of privilege Linda had that you didn’t. But you would not overstep her boundaries, and instead remained quiet. 

“I don’t mean that to sound rude, Miss. Only that, even with an unhappy marriage, there are plenty of freedoms to explore that most people will never get to.”

You buttoned the front of your jacket yourself and let Linda finish speaking. What she said was absolutely correct. Lots of people suffer through boring and arranged marriages, finding joy once they bring new life into the world or handling the property portion of your household. It most certainly sounded like a simple compromise. But the thought of a loveless marriage with only the hope of conception to bring actual love into the world upset you. There had to be more to it than just that. 

“Thank you, Linda. I hope to see you in the next year or so.”

Linda momentarily covered her mouth in shock, “I completely forgot! You’re going to America!” Her outburst caused a couple of the ladies to murmur to each other, all sharing their want for the new American dream the papers were talking about. It was said there was no heavy violence, property was easy to obtain, and gold was discoverable by anyone with a working hand and a shovel. But you didn’t believe the lies - it was the same hole as England, if not worse. 

“Oh, please write, Miss! Share your adventures with the group,” Linda laughed, gathering your purse in her hands and into your waiting ones. She handed you the forgotten groceries and your new green sweater as well. “And tell us about that Titanic! I hear it’s as grand as Buckingham Palace! Unsinkable!”

You nodded and smiled to the group of ladies who had become your friends in such a short amount of time. “I’ll be sure to write with great detail. Don’t get into any trouble without me.”

Linda scoffed, “And if we do, you’ll hear about it through the mail!”

You laughed and voiced your goodbyes, walking out of a peaceful atmosphere into the polluted streets in search of the waiting car. 

The enjoyment of silence and limited movement had always been a treasured feeling. Your feet taking small steps across such a large bedroom and emitting such a small sound while the clock ticked every second was such a lighthearted moment in your busy schedule. You folded the last bit of your clothes from the drawers into the bags the maid fetched, making sure to wrap the small perfume bottles as tenderly as possible inside your undergarments. Neatly tucked away in the corners, you glanced around the grand bedroom that had witnessed your mental deterioration for the past two years. It had encased you in times of grief as you said final goodbyes to your father; in times of brief happiness each time one of your horses won a race; in times of uncomfortable stillness as you destroyed gifts from loved ones, corsets string-by-string, or bottles of champagne from congratulations on your engagement. It was time to say goodbye and welcome four new walls to witness more tumbling emotions. 

A small knock at your door interrupted your thoughts. “Thought you could use a little help with the last of your belongings.”

If it wasn’t for your incredible acting skills, you probably would have screamed at Cal a thousand and one times by now about absolutely everything and nothing. He was subtly controlling, insisting which books you should and shouldn’t read or what food you should or shouldn’t try. For an engagement that was barely three months strong, you had already experienced fifty years of a failed marriage. 

You gave a small smile, “Thank you.”

Cal stepped into the room with your given permission, shutting the door gently behind him and locking it. You sighed deeply as you heard the click, trying to occupy yourself by wrapping the last bottles of perfume with undergarments. It occured to you in that moment that your private wardrobe was out in the open, so you quickly tucked the last bottle without its personal wrap and zipped the bag closed. Cal didn’t seem to notice your clumsy actions, instead focusing on lighting the cigarette between his lips. 

You stood at the foot of your bed and clasped your hands together, “You know I don’t like cigarette smoke in my bedroom, Cal.”

Cal chuckled and moved to grab the bottom half of your torso. You allowed him to guide you into his chest, swaying with him back and forth while simultaneously avoiding the dangling stick from his lips. Cal exhaled the smoke over your head and made sure all the smoke exited before he leaned down to press scattered kisses across your neck. Self-control abandoned, the involuntary grimace to stain your face remained unseen by your poor fiancé, who was only trying to selfishly build a certain romantic mood that was sure to escalate in the next week on your wedding night. Cal had it in mind that if he introduced a new intimate gesture every day, you wouldn’t act so cold during the ceremony. It was worth a shot, but the complete disregard for your upset over cigarette smoke was enough to bump his score back a few points.

“I was hoping the packing was all finished,” Cal sighed, trailing his kisses closer to your collarbone. “The help gets paid for this, Sweetpea. You shouldn’t waste your time and energy.”

You cleared your throat to break the one-sided tension, “It calms me, actually. Besides, the household is busy preparing for our departure in other ways.”

Your engagement had caused a disruption in the everyday lives of your staff. It was known that you had to marry after your father’s death or else your family wealth was in jeopardy. Your father had left everything in your name - property, money in the banks, jewels - anything and everything. But it was the nonexistent trust of your capabilities that people would not outright express. Coupled with the fact you were in your early twenties, no one would confide in your training abilities, rent your property, or give you loans. Getting married was practically on the agenda since your father announced his diagnosis. 

“Think of this,” Cal began, blowing out smoke and flicking the ash onto the floor. “In a week's time, you won’t need to worry about anything.”

He paused before taking another long drag of his cigarette. “America will welcome us with open arms and open pockets.”

“Must we think too much of the future? Can’t we just enjoy the present moment?” you spoke quietly, still swaying against him. 

Cal chuckled softly and gripped your chin lightly with his thumb and index finger to tilt your head upward. “America is full of such rich opportunity! How can I not envision it?”

You shrugged your shoulders and departed his loose grasp. “I’m not saying you can’t imagine-”

“No need to imagine!” Cal yelled excitedly, playfully falling on his right side at the foot of your bed. “I know it isn’t a figment of my imagination. It’s real…” he continued, looking up at the ceiling in undisturbed awe, “we can be as big as the Rockefellers.” 

You chuckled softly and picked up your bag to bring it to the chair by your door. “I’m sure our reachable dreams will suit us just fine.”

Cal scoffed jokingly, “Think of it! Your father’s property, our combined assets, the booming railroad business-”

“Actually, they say trains are becoming less and less valuable as automobiles become more affordable.”

Cal looked at you with wide eyes and a confused stare. “Well, whoever you are referencing was wrong.”

You wanted to list your sources and prove him wrong, but decided against the nasty argument. 

He continued to preach, “Just envision it, Sweetpea. It’s already in our grasp.”

You pretended to ‘envision’ his world by staring at the same spot he was, but could only see lonely nights in a house too big for the two of you and endless parties with mindless chatter. It was already draining the energy from your chest, so you simply lied to your fiancé to end the conversation.

“I can’t wait to see it, Cal.”

Cal jumped to his feet and fixed his tie before heading for the door. You could honestly say this was the longest conversation you ever had with Cal, and one where he wasn’t so bland. He seemed comfortable and relaxed around you right now, when usually he’s controlling and constrained. Air being sucked from your lungs without warning and then quickly replaced in a sharp and painful manner. A desperate reminder that you would have to learn to endure this endless suffering if you wanted to live comfortably. ‘Comfortable’ and ‘cheerful’ were two words that were completely foreign in feeling, on your tongue, in your social circle even. But yet again, you reminded yourself of your place - a place that you would simply have to learn the rules of. Cal was quick to change personalities anytime someone would interrupt your already tamed conversation, either showing you off as an extravagant prize or as a nuisance, someone to fetch him another Brandy. 

Perhaps it was due to the proximity of his American dream. 

“Perfect, Sweetpea,” he leaned forward to kiss your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow around seven. We have to be up bright and early to get to the docks by nine.”

You nodded and waved him goodbye, “See you then.”

You spent all night tossing and turning in your massive bed, hearing the trees sway with the wind and the midnight workers opening and shutting gates every five minutes. Silence greeted you only momentarily, somehow interrupting your thrashing or your wild thoughts, wishing you would open your eyes and imagine random designs in the ceiling above you. But as you did so, an intense wave of pain would sever any ounce of playful imagination your mind struggled to concoct, teasing an impossible ability to conceive a world other than your own. 

Tomorrow you would be locked away in the most elegant room on the grandest ship in the world, each swirl and twist of captivating designs sprawled across another four walls offering its own imagination to your tangled mind - another four walls that will observe your internal struggles with yourself, your husband-to-be, your “rich people problems”. 

And all you wanted was to disappear. Perhaps jump into that endless, blue abyss and have the world forget you ever breathed its air. Those four walls would only taunt you, remind you of the nauseating situation you were constantly in, breaking you further until all that’s left is another tombstone in your already crowded family garden. Your problems seemed miniscule as you thought about the setting of your deterioration, a luxurious and expensive atmosphere to suffocate inside. 

Perhaps you were overreacting. 

And as you heard another gate shutting and making an obscene amount of noise, you swallowed back those pitiful tears and reminded yourself that it could always be worse.

It could always be worse. 

But instead of disappearing, you decided to wander through the dark hallways of your home and sneak into the main kitchen. The peace and quiet you were hoping for as you devoured some chocolate chip cookies was absent and the kitchen roared with about half a dozen servants cleaning and packaging the food for donation. No one stopped their tasks because you entered the room, so you took that as an invitation to peck through the food on the counters. You found the sweets near the middle tables, still unpacked and freshly baked from this morning. You stacked a few cookies and lonely blackberries onto a single napkin, pulled out a chair, and sat to relish the flavor of each small creation. 

“Sugar at night will give you nightmares.”

You chuckled lightly, turning to smile at the only servant who took notice of your presence. “It’s worth it if this is the last time I’ll taste Hernando’s baked wonders.”

“Oh, don’t speak like that! Soon you’ll be back here and stuffing your face with all kinds of sweets.”

She wiped down the counter behind her quickly so she could sit beside you. You offered her a cookie, handing one to her but she declined. 

“What’s got you awake at near midnight? You have a busy day ahead and you need to rest up,” she said, folding her washcloth absentmindedly. Although you wanted to be fully honest with someone, you still kept most of your worries confidential. 

“I don’t want to go back to America,” you admitted. 

She scoffed, an action that modeled her desires rather than yours. “Why would you want to stay here? All of your father’s family is back in the states!”

You shrugged, taking a bite of your cookie. You spoke softly as to not invite gossip from others, “If I don’t go, then I won’t get married. Besides, all my family is out West. We’re staying on the east coast.”

She gave a sympathetic look, reaching out to tap your hand gently. “We’re not all meant to marry for love. But most of us do fall in love after… gradually.”

You scrunched your nose in slight annoyance, realizing that she had completely glossed over the mention of your family and the distance between them. “My mother said the same thing.”

“She is an honest woman. Perhaps she is right and you are just stubborn.”

Now wanting to end the conversation, you stuffed a cookie into your mouth so she would be forced to continue speaking without your input. She instructed another servant to pour you a cup of tea that had just finished heating.

“Who knows, dear? He could turn out to be more wonderful than you expected.”

Clearing your throat, you brushed your hands off on a nearby napkin and carefully handled the tea, standing from the table with a slight frown on your face. 

“One can only hope,” you said, bidding the midnight staff goodbye. “Please tell Hernando that I will miss his cooking.”

The cookies had relieved you of some of your building stress and the tea was also aiding in your recovery, but they quickly digested and sat in your half-empty stomach. You took long glances at the walls of the hallway adorned with family portraits, random maps, and lifesize sculptures leaning against them. You were saying goodbye in your own way, the only way possible, and it felt somewhat nostalgic - so quiet and yours. 

There was a strong possibility that you would return, but for some reason there was a need to say goodbye. Because if you never did return, you knew it wouldn’t be by your own choice.

Thank you so much for your lovely comments! It truly means a lot. -Moni xx

[nightinngales]

Hello there, sorry for the question and if you don't feel comfortable with it just ignore it. But the thing is you are the only blog that I follow that talked about adhd and I have read a lot about it on the internet and it seems that my friends kid has a lot of the symptoms but in my country it's not talked about it and there isn't any specialists for that as the kid has been to so many psychiatrists and doctors but they haven't even mention the possibility, all I have read about is from American sites, there isn't even any info about it in my native language. So my question is how do you actually cope with adhd, how can you suppress the symptoms and how it's actually treated?

ok strap in cause this will be long. under a read more because hella long 

Treatment Options: 

adhd is usually treated with stimulants, such as adderall or ritalin, which at least in the us, are controlled substances and you have to have a new script written every month in order to refill it. there are a few non-stimulant alternatives, like straterra, but i never noticed a difference while i was on them. 

How do you cope with symptoms? 

most people with adhd, even undiagnosed, end up self-medicating, usually by unconsciously seeking out stimulants that help them focus. lots of non-diagnosed people with adhd end up addicted to caffeine or cigarettes because they are both stimulants and can mimic the effects of medication (for a short time). however, it’s a game of diminishing returns. without moderation, your body eventually builds up a tolerance to substances like this, requiring more and more of it to produce the same effect. in medicine, this is called the “therapeutic level”: the amount of a drug needed in the bloodstream to actually produce an effect. 

why is this important? because, basically, even if you self-medicate with stimulants - you can only go so far. you can only drink so much coffee, or smoke so many cigarettes. eventually none of it will help, and merely keep you operating at a baseline, with detrimental effects should you drop off on usage (see: caffeine withdrawal). 

what’s more important, especially if you’re not able to be medicated, is learning how to cope and adapt to the symptoms of adhd. this is called compensating. for some this is automatic, as your brain adapts to the deficiencies. but, a lot of the time, it’s actually not possible to just make the symptoms go away. it’s a neurological deficit. no amount of coping skill will magically cure the condition - but you can learn to live with it. 

as far as coping techniques go... it depends on the severity of the symptoms, the age of the child, and the type of adhd they have (there’s actually several). what works for one person with adhd won’t work for everyone. my suggestion is this: 

identify the child’s “struggle” areas: what do they have the most problem with? for example: 

 emotional regulation - temper tantrums, massive mood swings, rejection sensitive dysphoria (look for MASSIVE downswings in mood when disciplined), overstimulation (do they get irritable when crowded or too much is going on?)

 hyperactivity - this can also present as anxiety in some kids. if your kid isn’t visibly hyper, check for other tells: fidgeting, nail biting, leg shaking, rocking, other symptoms of general anxiety - this can actually be a sign of hyperactivity, and the child finding other ways to burn off or cope with excess energy. 

focus, listening, “zoning out” - inattention, unable to stay focused, could also be hyperfixating. as a kid i had an issue where i could hyperfixate and totally tune out anyone who spoke to me. i genuinely would NOT hear things even if people were screaming at me. 

audio processing issues - if a kid doesn’t seem to be able to understand when spoken to, or lags behind (ex: asking “what?” and then, seconds later, answering appropriately as their brain processes what was said) 

learning difficulties - specifically check for issues with classes focusing on reading (such as their native language), and math in particular. dyslexia and dyscalculia are extremely common with adhd. get them tutoring or extended time on tests 

memory issues - does the child seem to say “i forgot” an inordinate amount? it could be a symptom of adhd. people with adhd often have issues with memory. 

Once you identify the problem areas, you can work on trying to help that child learn to cope with those issues. 

They have issues with emotional regulation or overstimulation? Give them a personal timeout button. Any time that kid needs a break and solo time, let them step away and isolate. It can help them manage their emotions and have a moment to process them in private where they won’t feel judged. It is important however that if you do this, don’t hold it against them. If they feel like you’re going to punish them for taking a time out to isolate, that just defeats the purpose. 

For hyperactivity, aggression, or impulsivity, find them an outlet to burn off energy. Get a punching bag, or some kind of active activity they enjoy. Even an active video game could help. 

Focus & listening, memory: Unfortunately there’s really no easy way to fix this. This is an issue with a frontal lobe deficiency. The ADHD person can try to come up with ways to manage it, but it will be an uphill battle. To-do lists and post-it notes and all of that type of stuff will not work. Luckily, they will likely get better at this as they get older. 

For learning difficulties, support them. Literally just support them. One of the major issues with ADHD is that it can present with RSD - rejection sensitive dysphoria. Any failure (perceived or actual) can send their mood absolutely plummeting into the shitter and kill their self-esteem and confidence. Don’t use blame-y language like “you didn’t try hard enough” or “If you could just pay attention...” etc. They’re trying. Trust me. They’re trying. And if they aren’t, it’s because they tried, and tried, and tried, and continued to fail with no encouragement, so they gave up. Encourage them. Support them. And prop them up when they do fail. Applaud their wins, no matter how small, and minimize their losses - make them realize a failure is not permanent, and they can always recover from it. This is super, super important for ADHD people with RSD because it’s so easy for them to give up on themselves. 

With RSD especially, be very careful of criticism, especially with kids. Their emotions are volatile, and RSD can lead to sudden, severe swings into suicidal ideation if it’s bad enough. If that child has RSD, they’re going to need a lot of support until they learn to manage their emotions better. 

With memory issues... Jury’s still out on that one. I’ve tried everything from calendars to post-it notes to alarms on my phone and still haven’t found one that actually works.  

And keep in mind: ADHD presentation not only differs by gender, but also tends to shift over time as they grow older. No one “grows” out of ADHD, they just get better at compensating for it. 

Girls tend to be less disruptive than boys. Less aggression, less acting out, but may still present with inattentiveness or other signs of hyperactivity (such as anxious tics/fidgeting). 

And lastly - ADHD tends to run in families. If one kid has it, it’s likely that another kid will have it, or one of the parents will have it, even if undiagnosed. I was diagnosed at 15. My mom was diagnosed 10 years later at 45. She’d spent her whole life compensating for a disorder she didn’t realize she had until she’d asked me one day what it felt like and realized she had a lot of the same issues I did. If possible, the parents should get tested as well. One or even both of them could be living with ADHD and not even know it. 

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

“Berliner Fernsehturm” * Foto: BernardoUPloud

After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks … and suddenly Claire’s fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach​

Chapter 9: 14 Men (5)

      After she sat down and Jamie poured everyone a glass of water, Ferdinand Groide began:

        "Mrs. Beauchamp, Jamie, Mr. Fraser, told me that your husband is Dr. Frank Randall. Is that correct?"

(...)

        "As you may also know, I have left my husband. Our marriage had been on paper only for several years. I intend to ask for a divorce, if that's possible from here. But I still have to care about this man's life. I'm a doctor, I took an oath. If I reveal the secrets I have learned... what will you do to him?"

        "What do you mean? What are we going to do with him?"

        "Will you hurt him? I mean, will you let someone hurt him?"

        Ferdinand Groide and Jamie looked at each other in amazement.

        "Mrs. Beauchamp, we're not the Mafia. We don't hire hit men."

        "But you're in Intelligence, Mr. Groide."

        Claire said that sentence with the same calm and objectivity as if she was saying to Jenny:

        "If you put one more egg in the batter, it gets better."

        "And intelligence agencies do these things," she added to her statement with the same objectivity.

        "Well, maybe the CIA or the KGB. Let me answer you this way: In my opinion, a living Frank Randall is far more interesting and valuable to a secret service than a dead Frank Randall."

        "In other words, you guarantee me that the information I give you will not endanger his life."

        Groide and Jamie looked at each other again.

        "Promise me."

        It wasn't a question, it wasn't a request, it was a demand, and the words Claire used to make that demand left none of the men unaware that there was no alternative to this bargain for them.

        Groide struck the hand Claire held out to him.

        "You have my word, Mrs. Beauchamp. You don't know me yet and you probably mistrust me. That's only natural. But Jamie, Mr. Fraser, can assure you that I'm a man of my word."

        Claire looked over at Jamie. He nodded.

        "Done."

        She reached for the glass of water that Jamie had put in her hand and emptied it in one gulp.

        Then she began to talk.

"Microphone" by Florian-Media

        "It was in the year 2015, in late November 2015 to be exact."

        "Excuse me, Mrs. Beauchamp," Groide objected, "but we ought to do this properly."

        He removed from his briefcase a device whose rectangular clunkness was reminiscent of an early mobile phone. After placing it in the center of the table, he inserted two small, round microphones attached to longer cables, one pointing at Claire and one pointing at himself. Groide pressed the record button, then he gave the date, time, place, names of those present and, as the reason for the recording, ‘Statement by Dr. Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp’.

        Jamie had to smile. Ferdinand was a friendly person, but he was also a German bureaucrat. Everything had to follow the specific order and everything had to be done 'by the book'. Those Germans. They had rules for everything. They couldn't just have a conversation like that, it had to be a 'statement' and of course it had to be 'recorded'. In this country everything was recorded, either on paper or on tape. And then everything was filed, paginated, numbered and archived. Nothing was lost. They were so damn meticulous, these Germans, but also so damn effective.

        "Please begin with your personal life, Mrs. Beauchamp. Name, birthday, place of birth, family, etc."

        "My name is Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I was born in London on October 20, 1993, the only child of Julia, née Moriston, and Henry Montmorency Beauchamp. My mother was a primary school teacher, my father worked as a statistician for an insurance company. In the winter of 1998 my parents were killed in a car accident. My uncle, Lambert Quentin Beauchamp, was appointed by the authorities as my foster father and guardian. He was my only living relative, my father's only brother. Due to the activities of my uncle, who was an egyptologist and archaeologist, I grew up in England for only a short time, the rest of the time we spend abroad. When I was 16 years old, my uncle returned to England permanently and accepted a professorship at Oxford University. Shortly afterwards I began training as a nurse. Also in Oxford. At the age of 19, I had just completed my education, I met my future husband Franklin Wolverton Randall through my uncle. He also worked in the history department and specialised in Scottish history. At times he worked as an assistant to a professor. We married the following year. My uncle died only a few months later. His health had unfortunately not been the best at the end of his life. When my husband was called to Harvard University's history department, we moved to Boston.

"Oxford" by MarlonRondal        

         Groide nodded. Jamie was sure that nothing Claire had told him so far was new to his friend. Guaranteed, they had checked Claire from the day he requested the visa for her passport. And they had certainly not been idle since then. At "In Vino Veritas" there was a small but very effective group of staff who had certainly dug up everything they could find about the young woman in the past few days.

         "When and how did you learn of your husband's secret activities?"        

         "It was in the year 2015, in late November of that year to be exact. Does the name Jonathan Pollard mean anything to you?"        

         Jamie listened with new interest. Groide just nodded.        

         "Then you know that this man has served thirty years in the United States for espionage. In 2015 he was released on parole and in the American media there was a lot of coverage and discussion for days. I had never heard this man's name before and, to be honest, I didn't care about the whole thing. However, I listened up when my husband spoke about it. It was a Sunday, two days after Pollard was released. I remember the whole thing so well because that day was the day of the terrible accident in that jademine in Myanmar, where 90 people were killed and over 100 people were missing. We had had dinner and then Frank turned on the TV. There was a talk show where the case was discussed. My husband had already started drinking in the afternoon. While Frank was watching the talk show, I thought, ‘My goodness, they're talking about an age-old espionage case and people are dying elsewhere without the media even paying attention.’"        

         Claire reached for her glass, which Jamie had refilled in the meantime, and took a big sip.        

         "I didn't pay much attention to the discussion on TV. But then suddenly Frank started mumbling loudly:       

          'Spy! Spy! Spy! Nonsense! The man was an amateur! What real spy leaves secret documents openly on his desk in the office and his wife was stupid enough to leave a suitcase with secret documents with a neighbour who was in the military himself!’”

        Claire reached for her glass again and drank.        

         "What he said made me furious, so I said to him: 'Oh yes, but you know how a real spy behaves!’ I thought his reaction was terribly arrogant. To my surprise, he then turned down the TV. He came over and sat down with me on the sofa. He looked me in the eyes and grinned. Then he said, ‘Yes, my darling, I know that. The MI5 recruited and trained me while I was still studying at Oxford. Right after they heard I was going to specialise in Scottish history. With my family background and the good connections we had in the military and police through my cousin Jonathan, there were no obstacles.’”

"Books" by MichaelGaida        

         "How did you react to that?"        

         "Well, at first I was stumped. I thought he was just showing-off again. So I replied, ‘Why would the MI5 need an expert in Scottish history?’ He replied, ‘Well, of course you can't imagine, you little fool. Good God, Claire! The Scots want independence and just because last year's referendum went so well, they will not give up. It's their history they're drawing strength from! What do you think will happen if they really gain their independence? It could set off a chain reaction. You know that Prime Minister Cameron announced two years ago that he would hold a referendum on Britain's withdrawal from the EU if he was re-elected in 2015? So? He has been re-elected! Now there must be a referendum. And what if Britain's withdrawal from the EU is carried out but Scotland becomes independent and is then admitted to the EU as a member? Did you ever think about that? This is going to get us in big trouble! Then the EU will continue to stand with two legs on our island! We can't let that happen.’”

         Claire paused for a moment, then she went on:                  "I must have looked at him in wonder and disbelief, because suddenly he stormed out of the living room. I heard him looking for something in his study. When he came back he had a newspaper article in his hand which he held in front of my face. ‘Read it,’ he said to me. ‘Our government takes this danger seriously... and so should you!‘          I took the article and read. It was an article in the International Business Times in July 2015. It reported that the Prime Minister had met with the CEOs of a media company. The purpose of the meeting was allegedly to prevent the broadcast of a TV series about the Scottish Rebellion of 1746 before the referendum on Scottish independence. It seems that a request has been made to postpone the broadcast. I later found on his desk a copy of an article from ‘The Scotsman’, which also covered the subject in detail.”                  Groide and Jamie looked at each other and smiled. Both men nodded, but said nothing.        

         "Frankly," Claire continued, "I hadn't given the matter any thought at all. In the five years before, I had been mainly busy finishing my medical studies and gaining experience as a doctor. You don't have much time to worry about other things. Besides, due to my, well, somewhat non-conformist upbringing, I was never so much confined to one country alone ..."        

         "How is it that despite medical school, your husband still refers to you as..." Groide is looking for words, "intellectually... weaker...?”          "Frank believes that medical school would consist largely of memorizing the contents of textbooks. He thought that people's bodies were somehow all the same and that if you had learned the appropriate forms of treatment, then you could treat them. He never understood the diversity and complexity of the human body and how medical science reacts to it."                   "Did your husband explain his duties for the MI5 to you?"          "When I told him that Scotland's history, and Scotland's ambitions for independence, were well known, he told me not to think so superficially. He said that historians are not only concerned with the past. They can also make predictions about the future to a certain extent, based on their knowledge. I should think about what the clan system had meant and still means to the Scots. Why did the English central government everything to destroy it after the Jacobite uprising of 1746? England should not allow a united counter-power to be formed again in the north of the country. He was probably particularly concerned about this lobby group, One Banner for all Scots, which had formed the year before."

"Scottish Independence" by Emphyrio         Claire was focused on Ferdinand Groide and the recording equipment in front of her. She didn't see Jamie's face become more and more thoughtful.        

         "Mrs. Beauchamp, all this is interesting, but... not very specific."          "At first, I too got to know only general things. It only became more specific later when I did... well, my own... research.                  "You did your own research?"                  Groide suddenly seemed interested again. Jamie tried not to smile. What seemed like a minor revelation to his friend only confirmed what he had been thinking all along. Claire was an intelligent, strong woman. Her strength might have been broken for a time by what her husband had done to her. But Jamie was sure that she would find her way back to that strength. And he vowed to himself that he would do everything he could to help her.          "I thought Frank was a braggart for a long time, but... I can't describe it exactly. Something had caught my interest. Then a colleague asked me if I would trade a weekly shift with her. She would have had a night shift, but her babysitter was unavailable. I agreed and that same afternoon I went to the university library and borrowed books on Scottish history and the independence movement. The department where I was on night duty was not very labour-intensive. I had a lot of time to read and think during the nights of that week."          She paused for a moment.          "After that week, I became aware of the urgency of the issue."          Groide didn't say anything, but his gaze urged her to continue.          "National self-determination. Well, there's no need to explain that further. Scotland's oil. 64% of Europe's oil reserves are on Scottish territory. They're said to be worth 4 trillion pounds. Then there is the issue of renewable energy. I mean Scotland has 25 % of Europe's wind energy potential, 25 % of Europe's tidal energy potential and 10 % of Europe's wave energy potential. I do not have to tell you that these are also enormous financial potentials."          A fine smile appeared on Groide's face.          "And then, of course, there is the question of nuclear disarmament: with control of defence and foreign policy, an independent Scotland could tackle the elimination of Trident nuclear weapons, an issue long associated with the campaign for an independent Scotland. Trident class submarines carrying missiles with 120 nuclear warheads are based at the Clyde naval base near Glasgow. In the event of Scottish independence, England would have to withdraw these weapons and revise its defence strategy. I imagine that would be a thorn in the side of the American allies as well. There will certainly be a lot of diplomatic pressure behind the scenes."          Claire took a deep breath.          "Now you're going to tell me that this is all public information and I would agree with you. But I wasn't aware of it before. These informations woke me up. It took a while but when I had the opportunity to take on another week of night shifts I immediately agreed. In this time I developed a kind of plan. I was eager to find out if Frank's statement was true. At first I tried to track when he was going to conferences or work meetings. Not all of them, but several of them took him to England and Scotland. I can't prove it, but I had the impression that his travels became more frequent at times when 'the Scottish theme' was boiling up. Later, after 2015, and particularly after the brexite, his travels intensified.”          To Jamie's surprise, Claire reached into her handbag, which she had hung on the back of her chair, and pulled out a piece of paper she handed over to Ferdinand Groide.

"Tea" by Pexels          "This is a list of all the trips my husband has taken since 2013. supposedly for reasons of his work as a historian."          Groide skimmed the list, then put it aside.          "Thank you very much. We will try to verify the data."          "In the weeks that followed, I voluntarily took several weeks of night duty. Because there was another advantage to this. I was at home while my husband was at university and could look through his records almost undisturbed."        

         "Will you share the knowledge you have gained from this?"          "Yes. But perhaps we could have some tea?" Claire replied as she looked at Jamie.          "Certainly."          He got up and left the room. Ferdinand Groide pressed the 'stop' button on the recorder. Then he got up and stretched a bit. Claire did the same.

[sombreboy]

Love Maze »21

Previous  » Next Series Masterlist ▎ 18+ ▎ pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ▎ genre: School AU, crack humor, smut, angst, ETL, slow burn, fluff. ▎ word count: 9.1k ▎ ch.warnings: profanity, light angst, fluff, discussion of unhealthy drinking habits (be responsible<3), phonesex/facetime sex, masturbation, dirty talk, tae sucks jk off in yoongi's car (don't tell yoongi)

Co-writer: @velvetwicebang​​​​​​​ ♡♡♡

A few months had passed, and Taehyung was finally done with High School. He’d been living with Jungkook during that time, and honestly? It was one of the best decisions he’s ever made. The elder was nervous at first; walking around his boyfriend’s apartment in his tippy toes— like a stranger would. Something about it being ‘official’ made it hard to chew. However, It didn't take long before Taehyung really treated the place like his own.

Spitting loud profanities when he’d lost at a game? Check. Walking around in only his boxers? Check.

Walking around butt-naked? Also check. He felt at peace, which wasn’t something he could say he’s ever experienced at his old place. His father took it.. well, he didn’t know how he’d taken it. The man barely ever wore any expressions on his face, trying to figure him out was nearly impossible. Daejung’s last words stuck with him, ‘You’re going to regret choosing that lifestyle, Taehyung. Moving in with your.. your boyfriend? That’s sick.’ It was at that moment Taehyung knew he had to get out of there. And to think there was a hint of guilt left.. Fuck it, it was about time he put his goddamn happiness first.

“Should I pack the blue shirt or the black one?” Sadly, good things almost always come to an end. Even if it was temporary, Tae could feel the sadness creeping up on him. Months away from his boyfriend sounded like pure torture. Taehyung was nineteen now, and he’d decided to attend college in America. The elder always joked that he was one year wiser, but maybe that was simply a facade to hide his inner fears. He was scared to move to a different country, scared to leave behind the only person who understood him. But if he wanted a better life for the both of them, he’d have to work hard to earn a stable job. Maybe being a businessman was his.. thing. At the moment, he felt no attraction towards it, but maybe as time went on he’d learn to fall in love with the career.. “Or should I pack both.” Here he was, packing the night before as expected, rushing through things.

“Kook, don’t be sad.” The younger’s silence was deafening. “Think of all the phone sex we’re gonna have, we haven’t done that before.” Taehyung pushed aside his internal conflict about which stupid shirt to pack, moving closer to his boyfriend to loop his arms around the boy’s waist. “Hey.. we’ll FaceTime. I know it���s not the same thing, but it’s better than nothing..”

Jungkook's melancholic expression brightened slightly at Taehyung's way of trying to lighten the mood. ''It does sound pretty hot...'' He tried to play along to rid himself of the emotions that swirled in his chest. Kook didn't want Taehyung to leave to begin with, but he hadn't actively tried to stop him. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he told him to stay simply for the reason that he wanted him close? He couldn't be selfish. ''You better call me often.'' Kook scrunched his nose, wrapping his arms around Tae's neck to draw their faces closer, allowing the younger to litter kisses all over his boyfriends face. ''And don't let any cute americans steal you from me.''

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Taehyung’s face scrunched up at the little kisses, playfully trying to wriggle away from Jungkook’s lock. “I’ll pick you over them any day.” After pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his boyfriend’s lips, Tae held out both shirts.

“Now, which one?”

~

“Babe, why are they here again?” It was nine in the morning, and Taehyung was quietly muttering those words into Jungkook’s ear. “I just wanted to say bye to yo—“

“I’ve never been in an airport before! Woah.” Hoseok’s wide eyes lit up as bright as the sun, palms pressed flat onto the big window as he watched an airplane take off into the air, gaze glued on it until the clouds engulfed it whole.

“It’s really nothing special..”

“Yoongi, shut the fuck up. Let me enjoy it.”

Tae turned to look back at his boyfriend, stifling a small, amused smile. Maybe he’d miss these guys a bit... And girl. Turns out, Jisoo wasn’t too bad. Namjoon and her have been officially dating for a few months now, and he’d moved in with her as well. Both couples spent a lot of time with one another, and naturally, Taehyung grew fond of her. Whatever happened between Jungkook and the woman, that was in the past. Their noona was head over heels for Joon, her loving stares said that much.

“You sure you got everything?” Jin pestered for the millionth time, earning himself the millionth nod of the head from Taehyung. “Yes, hyung. I’m sure.”

Jungkook relished in the bickering between his hyungs and his boyfriend while it lasted, but the anxiety kept coming back to him every single time he glanced over at the clock.. Time had never passed as quickly as it did until now. When the group finally had given their proper cheers and kind goodbyes, they allowed for Jungkook to finally get some space with Taehyung.. And honestly, it kind of hurt even more that way. He didn't want him to leave. Every single thing they did together, and suddenly they both had to spend their daily lives apart. Well, aside from their upcoming virtual relationship. ''Ah, shit...'' Jungkook raised his eyebrows high, staring up at the ceiling to prevent his eyes from tearing up. It didn't work that well, instead they glazed over as he looked back down at his boyfriend, reaching out to grab the elders hands in his, forcing him to let go of his baggage for the moment. He wasn't sure what to say, and he for sure knew if he tried-- he'd just start crying. But he had to say something. ''Do your best...'' Kook scrunched his nose as he smiled through the stray tears that were forcing themselves down his cheeks. ''And be safe.. and eat enough.. I heard their burgers are fuckin' good there.'' He rambled on, wishing time would slow down further.

The more Jungkook spoke, the more it crumbled down Taehyung’s composed front little by little. “Yeah,” He laughed weakly, a single tear shamelessly cascading down his face until Tae wiped it away with the back of his hand. “I’ll uhm.. I’ll eat a lot of burgers.” He too looked up at the ceiling, his eyes stung. His throat closed in, his chest felt heavy.. It hurt to say goodbye. “Come here.” His voice trembled as Taehyung pulled his boyfriend in for one last hug, hiding his face in Jungkook’s neck while he squeezed him tight. The elder’s hands grasped onto the fabric of the younger’s shirt, body beginning to quiver as he suddenly found it impossible to hold back his emotions. “I miss you already..” Taehyung murmured, harshly biting down on his lip to stop it from trembling. “I love you so much, remember that.”

Jungkook took a deep, shaky breath to keep himself together. It was so hard not to break down and cry right then and there, but he managed to stay somewhat collected. However, tears were given at a moment like this. "I love you." Kook murmured as he buried his nose in Tae's hair, wrapping one arm tightly around his boyfriends waist while the other reached to rub his neck. "Time will fly by, you'll be back before you know it." His words were comforting, and he wasn't entirely sure if they were meant for Taehyung or for himself. Possibly both. And it did work... a little bit. Unfortunately, the time came where they had to part, Jungkook practically forcing himself to let go of Taehyung. He wiped the elders tears away with his thumbs before kissing his cheeks, as if his lips were the remedy to make them stop from trickling down. "See you soon."

The group slowly came closer once more, waving Taehyung goodbye along with Jungkook, all of them huddled together to keep the youngest together as he clamped down on his trembling lower lip. When his eyes met Tae's, he couldn't help but smile. A wide, toothy grin shining through despite his cheeks being glossy with his tears, exaggerated waves coming from all of them-- but most of all, Jungkook.

“Jungkookie, he’ll be back before you know it.” Jisoo smiled, moving away from under Namjoon’s arm to soothingly smooth her hand across Kook’s back, taking notice of how taut his posture was under her touch. The rest of the gang nodded, adding in their words of encouragement.

“You’ll see each other soon! Now.. let’s eat! I’m fucking starving!”

~

Time did fly by indeed, and Taehyung kept in contact with his boyfriend, ringing him up whenever he could. The time difference oftentimes made it challenging, but they rose above the obstacles trying to keep them divided. Tae spoke to Kook about anything and everything, ranging from newfound friends, to how his English sucked ass, and if American burgers lived up to the hype. Turns out, they were alright. He’d also tell him how much he missed him, and sometimes, his roommate Jayson would pop in to say ‘hi’. They knew about the younger— maybe too much, as Taehyung didn’t keep him a secret, all of his inner insecurities were left in the past. There were lonely nights where he would more often than not wish he could hold Jungkook to sleep, play with his boyfriend’s hands, run his fingers through his long hair; but it wasn’t the reality he hoped for ...Not for long.

In just a few more days, Tae gets back in a plane. Excited was an understatement, he couldn’t wait to go back home, even if it was just for a week. Like most nights, Taehyung stayed up really late to catch a glimpse of Jungkook in the mornings. They’d planned to talk today, and there was no way his urge to sleep was going to get in the way of that. With his phone in his eager hands, Tae clicked on his boyfriend’s profile, running a hand through his hair whilst he waited for Jungkook to pick up his FaceTime call.

In the beginning, being away from Taehyung was absolute hell. There was no other way to describe it, Kook was sure of it. He had to brush his teeth by himself, beat the boss on this new game all alone, and the vacant spot in his bed was all too obvious. But with time, it became a bit easier, especially with his friends occasionally checking in on him at the beginning. But as time passed, their visits became less frequent. They all did have jobs after all.

Jobs.

Jungkook had been hunting for one of those for what felt like forever, but it was probably months, without any luck whatsoever. It was harder than he thought, and it was so frustrating. What was he supposed to tell his boyfriend?

"Shit, how did I forget..." Jungkook mused as he held his phone up, looking at the sweet contact photo that lit up. He was slouched down on his couch, his even longer curls hanging past his eyes as he moved his hair behind his ears to display the new earrings he'd gotten, two silver hoops in each ear. "Hey babe~" Kook wishes he didn't have those previous 'drown your sorrows' drinks before the call, the half slur obvious in his speech.. this habit was easy to break whenever he wanted to, surely. Him having a drink every now and then to relax was harmless, right?. But he didn't care about specifics now, he was just happy to see his boyfriend. Now, the one specific Kook didn't pay attention to, was that he was drunk early in the morning. He hadn't even slept yet. "Babyyy... miss you."

Every time, Taehyung swore he felt his heart skip a beat when Jungkook’s face showed up on the screen. But unlike usual, his boyfriend appeared less.. vibrant. Even with the shitty internet connection, the eyebags underneath Jungkook’s sullen eyes were clear. Was he not getting enough sleep? ‘Shit, am I calling too early in the mornings?’

The slur in the younger’s voice heightened Taehyung’s worries, who in response brought his phone closer to his face, as if he could further inspect Kook’s situation thousands of miles away. Was he drunk..? “Jungkook-ah.. are you okay?” He seemed out of it, his tangled hair appeared as if he’d ran his fingers through it countless times, pondering about something. Jungkook looked like a hot mess, and not just a ‘I’ve just woken up’ kind. “I— I miss you too, baby. Are you taking care of yourself, though?”

"Yes, 'm good," Kook only spoke a half truth. He was feeling pretty good at the moment, but generally? It was tough as shit. "I just miss you a lot..." Jungkook squinted slightly to focus on the face on his phone screen, a small smile on his lips as he attempted to avoid any discussion deeper than surface level. "You look pretty, baby~ oh! Look at this, I got new e-earrings." Kook brought the camera closer as he showed them off, the reddened hue in his eyes more obvious at this point.

If anyone could tell the symptoms of a drunk, it would be Taehyung. “Cool, new earrings, pretty. Kook, have you been drinking?” Taehyung’s brain couldn’t push it aside any further, it scared the hell out of him to see Jungkook this way. He had to watch his father turn into a drunk after his mother’s death, Tae only hoped his boyfriend was a lot smarter than the man, not relying on alcohol to momentarily solve life’s hurdles. But.. maybe this was a one time thing. Somehow, that option eased Tae’s visible distress. J ungkook wasn’t one to get drunk on the daily, this must be new. “Kook, baby, your earrings are really pretty. I just.. is there a reason why you’re drunk so early in the morning?”

Jungkook scrunched his nose, not even half satisfied with the unenthusiastic response to his new jewelry. Understandable though, he was very unlike his normal self. Well, the self he showed Taehyung. Truth is, Kook had turned to the bottles more frequently as of late due to the constant rejection of finding a job. Life was boring and draining all at once. All he did was work out, hunt for a job, and drink. Occasionally, he'd sit down and draw during these nights-- wondering just how many Taehyung inspired doodles he'd jotted down. "I'm just a bit drunk from last night still, I uh.." he ran his hand through his hair once more, tongue quickly rolling against the inside of his cheek. "Long day yesterday, and a long night.. couldn't sleep." Even if he didn't say specifics, it was still a partial truth once more. He didn't want Tae to worry.. and Kook felt too embarrassed to admit he'd been this unlucky. Who would've thought that not having a proper education would affect you this bad? Well, Jungkook definitely knew.

Taehyung did worry. It was in him to overly worry about his boyfriend’s well being, to constantly ask himself how he was doing, if he was scraping by with the little money he had saved up— if Jungkook was okay. “Hey, you know you can always tell me what’s up, right..? Even if it’s late over here, or if you just need someone to listen to you, I dunno, vent about how much you suck at beating bosses without me. Call me.” Tae meekly sighed, the worry having yet to diminish from his furrowed eyes. “I’m your boyfriend, I wanna listen to everything you have to say no matter how long your day or night was. I’ll listen to every bit of it.”

Jungkook wasn't expecting his eyes to glaze over with a layer of his tears at the words, his doe eyes growing in size as he stared at the man on his screen with nothing but his intoxicated affection. What was he thinking... Maybe he should just be honest. ''Okay,'' he took a quiet breath. ''Today I went to six different places that were hiring... All blatantly just rejected me. And it sucked.'' He chuckled sourly. ''But.. it's fine, it won't last for long.'' He's said this many times before, for months at end. He just hoped soon, luck would be on his side. ''Anyway... can we just talk about you, please? I can't wait to see you..''

“Oh, Kook..” Verbally, Taehyung didn’t know where to start. If he was there, he’d smother Jungkook in kisses, hug him securely until his arms became numb, or walk over to the fridge to fetch him banana milk. Those always seemed to make him feel better, no matter how small. But now that Taehyung was oceans away, he had to rely on his words. That scared the shit out of him; he’s never been quite the ‘motivational’ speaker. “Yeah, I mean, it won’t last long. Those people are dumbasses for letting someone as hardworking and kind like you slip by.” Tae smiled at the camera, “It’ll get better, don’t worry.” Growing tired of laying on his stomach, Taehyung flipped himself around. He stretched his arms out to give his boyfriend a broader view. The faint scar on his forehead was visible now that he laid on his back, but they were both used to it by now. “I can’t wait to see you either. Just a few more days, baby, and we can make up for all of the kisses and sex we missed out on~” The elder sang, thankful his roommate couldn’t understand what he was saying. “No but really, I just.. I can’t wait to hold you. I’ve had to hug my damn pillow to sleep.” Taehyung turned to look at the other man in the room, bringing the phone closer to his lips as if what he was going to tell Jungkook was a secret. “Jayson doesn’t like my snoring like you do.”

“I heard my name!” A pillow came flying at Tae’s face, who just laughed as he aimed it back at him, the urge to sleep no longer knocking at his door.

Jungkook's smile grew, his front teeth on full display on the screen as he chuckled until his shoulders were shaking. ''Yeah, we have a lot of catching up to do...'' He took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the boxy smile on his boyfriend. ''I really miss touching you, kissing you... everything.'' Kook wiggled his eyebrows, running his fingers through his long hair, knowing Tae loves the look of it. ''Ah, just the thought makes me hot.'' Well, and the alcohol still streaming through his veins that amplified his sudden shift in mood. Taehyung might not be the best talker-- but he surely did enough to distract the younger from his troubles by replacing one thought with another.

Figuring it would transcend past their language barrier, Taehyung flipped Jayson off before he discarded the pillow and turned his back to the dramatically offended man. Dedicating his attention to his phone once again, Tae’s fingers swam through his messy hair to fix the damage. A cheeky smile tugged at his lips when he saw Jungkook do the same. “You know what that does to me..” His hair’s gotten so long, it was hot. Really hot. Those earrings fit him nicely, too. “You know what else is hot?” The elder wiggled his brows, building up the unnecessary suspense just for the hell of it. “Me. I’m sweating in here, it’s like they don’t have any air conditioner or something.”

"Well, I know a solution," Jungkook brought the camera closer to his face, wiggling his eyebrows right back at his boyfriend. "but sadly you have a roommate..." he clicked his tongue. "I really want to see you..." Knowing Taehyung would get the hint, Kook leaned back on his couch as he allowed a small hiccup to escape his lips. He really had no shame, and was the alcohol to blame? Only partially, he mused. He'd become less and less embarrassed by things. It was just fun. Especially to keep one hand on his phone, while the other slowly palmed himself through his sweatpants, not allowing Tae to see any of it-- just the light twitches in the youngers eyebrows along with the soft, barely audible sigh that Taehyung knew too well.

“Fuck, Jungkook..” Taehyung bit down on his lip, sneaking a rushed glance over his shoulder. Shit, Jayson was still up; and if he continued to be heavily immersed into that book, it’d be a hell of a while before he goes to sleep. Tae was in no position to have virtual sex with his boyfriend, and Jungkook was purposely dangling a carrot in front of his face, taunting him. “You’re a brat, you know.” The elder nearly let out a grunt at the peek of the younger’s hand, moving vigorously whilst the camera shook slightly. “Making your boyfriend hard so late at night, tsk.” Taehyung’s hips rocked slightly, feeling his cock awaken with every twitch in Jungkook’s blissful face. “Goddamnit— uh, I’ll be going out,” He spoke to his roommate in broken English, throwing on his slippers and coming close to falling down face first onto the ground. Taehyung caught himself, though, rushing out of his dorm in a hurry. The elder pushed on the door to a vacant stairway, leaning his back against the wall. The light was dimmed, but it was enough to see what was going on. “You’re already seeing me baby, you gotta be more specific.” He picked up where they left off, deep voice hushed as he was afraid he’d wake someone up. "What do you wanna see, babe?” One hand snuck down past the waistband of his pants, welcomed by the warmth in his briefs as he toyed with his own cock, rubbing circles onto the swollen head.

Jungkook slouched down further on the couch, half laying down as he pulled his turgid length out to give it a proper stroke, drawing out a quiet groan from his own throat. "Wanna see your dick, babe..." his lips were swelling into a plush pout with the way he kept tugging at them with his teeth, the screen shaking more as he jerked himself off with more vigor. "Wanna see me too? I'm already so wet for you.." Kook didn't wait for a reply before he pressed the button to switch to his back camera, making a show out of the way his veiny hand held his swollen cock in a firm grip. He was practically dripping in precum, the glistening shine amplifying the red hue of his tip. "See what you do to me? Shit, I can't wait for you to come back."

“Oh fuck...” Taehyung’s ragged breathing reached the other line, touching himself to the lewd image on the screen while spreading his precum along the thick girth. “I wanna feel you.” What he’d do to fuck himself on Jungkook’s fat cock; his entrance clenched tightly at the thought. Frustrated, the elder whipped his big dick out. He gasped once it accidentally smacked against the screen, the wet sound too noticeable to ignore. “I don’t know what I want more, baby. To slam into your tight ass until you’re screaming my name, or to ride the shit out of you until I’m crying from how strong you are..” Taehyung lowered the phone to proudly show off his erection, throwing his head back against the wall as he put his hand to work. Soft, raspy moans emitted from his throat as more precum oozed out of him, some dripping down to the floor.

"We will do both when you're back, for sure-- oh my god, you're so fucking hot.." Jungkook flipped the camera again, angling so that Tae was able to see Kooks face and cock in one from above, the constant slick sounds of their hands and groans echoing from both of the boys' speakers. Actually, it was quite surprising. Jungkook wasn't that into the idea of cybersex at first, which made the first time a bit awkward when they tried. But the more they did it-- which was as often as possible, Jungkook had discovered that he was quite the filthy mouth. He loved seeing Taehyung's reactions to the dirty talk that Jungkook provided; and it surely did the same to him.

His boyfriend’s far from stable voice paired with the way his own cock twitched in his slick hand had Taehyung grunting, even moaning at the image on his screen. This came naturally for Jungkook, and it drove the elder insane. “Shit, a-are you close?” He followed after him, displaying his throbbing cock and face at once. The sounds of his sore hand sliding easily across his length were clearer than ever, and Taehyung didn’t know how much longer he’d last if they kept this up. “Baby, ‘m gonna cum..” Desperately trying to get himself to let go of the ledge, Tae picked up the pace, not caring that his moans were uncontrollably loud.

''Yes, cum babe-- I'm so close too.. fuck, I want you so bad,'' Jungkook nods hurriedly, the glistening sweat on his forehead catching strings of his dark curls to stick to his skin. ''I wish I could cum all over your face, your body, s-shit, shit...'' He moaned, throwing his head back to display his strained neck, swallowing tightly as he stroked himself at a brutal pace, feeling his thigh muscles tense up. His hips were bucking up into his hand, eyes completely transfixed on his boyfriend until a dragged out, throaty moan echoed in Taehyung's speaker. Several ropes of cum gushed from Kook's swollen tip, some dribbling down to his hand, some pooling at his stomach. " Fuck, I'm cumming so much--Tae...'' He closed his eyes, the phone shaking in his hold as he kept stroking himself until he was completely emptied.

“Wanna feel you cum inside of me..” Taehyung tugged at his lower lip with his teeth, trying to silence the very moans that could get him caught. “A-ah, fuck..” The second he hazily saw his boyfriend crumble down to a pathetic mess, was the moment his own orgasm drew out a deep, drained cry of alleviation. Strings of cum burst onto his front camera, his screen, and the floor underneath him. “Cum baby, shit that’s hot..” Taehyung’s slick hand soon came to a bumpy halt, instead focusing on catching his lost breaths. He opened his lust-invaded eyes a few seconds later, the darkness within them slowly vanishing to its hiding spot. The elder wiped away the cum off his phone, now able to see Jungkook’s worn out state more clearly. “You look hot as fuck with those earrings, Kook.” Taehyung quietly whimpered as he tucked himself back in, grimacing slightly at the sticky cum latching on to his hand. “I wanna see them dangle next time I’m under you.” Despite his lewd words, a content sigh led to a pleased smile. Shit, Tae really needed an outlet of some sort to let out some steam, and this was the perfect solution. Classes were stressful as fuck, and his calls with Jungkook always made him feel better. “Love you. Really wish I wasn’t saying that to your dick right now.” Tae lazily smirked, unable to see Kook’s face past the pole on the screen.

Jungkook's breathy laugh echoed in the room, bringing the phone up to his face that was a satisfied mess, curls sticking to his skin and every other direction. "I'll get longer earrings for you then.. I love you more." He carelessly wiped his sticky hand on the fabric of his pants before a yawn emitted from his lips. "I'm getting sleepy... I really wish you were here. Can't wait to see you." He pouted towards the camera, "I imagine you would jump into my arms at the airport, I'll carry you home." With that in mind, the little doe eyed boy was anything but small by now. His muscle mass had kept growing while Tae was gone, and by now he knew that his boyfriend would swoon even harder with the way he always loved the younger's strength.

“I’ll be home soon, Kook.” The elder smiled, wishing he was there to brush away the curls clinging to Jungkook’s forehead. “I will hold you to that. From how tired I’ll be, you might just have to carry me home.”

~

Taehyung had been counting down the days he’d be able to see Jungkook in person again— to jump into his boyfriend’s arms like Kook had envisioned. The anticipated day seemed like it’d never come, but when it was finally time for him to board on a plane back home, Tae was ecstatic! The thirteen hour flight was quick to tear down his initial enthusiasm, but knowing Jungkook would be waiting for him at the finish line was enough of a boost to get him going. Hours flew by with him eating, staring blankly at the seat ahead, sleeping, and repeating. It’d become kind of a routine by now.. Taehyung was struggling to stay awake throughout the last few minutes, but the moment the voice on the speaker announced they’d landed safely, Tae’s eyes shot wide open. He was back home, to Jungkook. The elder hadn’t seen his boyfriend in months, which naturally felt like years on his end.

Once he’d gotten checked in and found his luggage, Taehyung practically speed-walked to the area that had Kook waiting for him. His heart was pounding. It almost felt like he was back in their school’s common room, anxiously rocking on his feet as he craned his neck, searching for those doe eyes among the crowd. There were other couples that were reunited; a girl jumped into a man’s arms, some held out big ‘Welcome Back!’ signs, and others had bouquets of flowers meant for the other person. Taehyung didn’t care about any of that, he just wanted to hug the shit out of his boyfriend. Maybe even kiss him in front of all these people..

~

Jungkook was anxious, the last couple hours of waiting was absolutely dreadful. Back home, he'd rushed around to clean up at the last minute for his boyfriend's arrival. Luckily, he'd gotten his drivers license done with the amount of free time he'd gotten lately. After endless begging for the fact that Kook wanted to go by himself, he was allowed to borrow Yoongi's not so new, new crappy car. Finally, the moment Jungkook had been longing for arrived as he stood behind the crowd, anxiously shifting his weight between his feet. The very second he saw the flow of people coming through the gate of the flight Taehyung was on, his doe eyes searched for the face he's been missing every single second for months on end.

"Taehyung!" Kook chirped out through the crowd as he scuffed through when he pointed out his person. The butterflies practically exploding in his chest was overwhelming, his entire body moving on it's own towards Tae with large arms reaching out for him along with the brightest toothy smile on his lips.

“Jungk— woah, hey there.” Before Taehyung had any time to register the direction of where his name came from, he looked ahead only to see his boyfriend practically lunging himself at him. “Baby, you’re loud.” Tae softly chuckled, not wasting any time before neglecting his luggage, instead wrapping his arms tight around the younger’s waist. Fuck, he’d missed him so much.. The mild scent of his clothes, his soft locks, everything ranging from big to small. “Shit, I-I missed you. A lot.” Taehyung pulled away to cup Jungkook’s pretty face in between his hands, his faint smile morphed into a boxy grin before he took a big leap of faith and molded their lips together. The elder led the kiss, slow and steady, not worried about the ruckus of people surrounding them. Taehyung was just happy to be back home, and he was going to show it the only way he knew how.

Jungkook's arms wrapped around Taehyung's smaller back to pull him back in, he craved to feel their chests pressing together once more as he had to hold back with every fibre of his being not to devour Taehyung whole. It was a sweet moment, yes, but Jungkook had been starved of the physical affection he's so fond of for months. Softly, he kissed his boyfriend back, but the desperation behind the way he kept going back in for more was evident. ''I missed you too, so much.'' The younger finally said when their kiss came to an end, pulling back just enough to be able to look at each other. Taehyung looked so good, a bit more tan than when he'd left. His face looked fuller, like he'd gained a little bit of weight, and his hair had grown-- just like his own. Tae looked so different, yet he was exactly the same. ''You look pretty.'' Kook scrunched his nose, leaning in to kiss the small mole on his boyfriend's nose, ''You must be so tired. Wanna get out of here?''

As fast as lightning, Taehyung’s head bobbed in agreement. All he’d done was sit in a plane, yet every inch of him was longing for a nap. Turns out, airplane seats weren’t the most comfortable. “How did you get here, by the way. Did one of the guys give you a ride?” The elder spoke too soon, one of his brows arched in question when he saw Jungkook unlock the doors of a car he’s never seen before. “Kook... what’s this?” He chuckled. His boyfriend’s never told him he’d learned how to drive. Still confused, Taehyung threw his light baggage into the trunk of the car, walking around to situate himself on the passenger’s seat. This felt.. odd. Tae was used to being the one who drove them places. Seeing Jungkook in the driver’s seat was new, to say the least. He’d gotten used to it, though. The few minutes he’d seen Jungkook driving with one strong hand on the wheel, the veins in his forearm sticking out. The way his brows furrowed in utter concentration..

Fuck.

It was a lie, Taehyung wasn’t used to it. It’d gotten to a point where Tae couldn’t take staring anymore, his drowsiness replaced with lust. “Pull over.” He ordered in his deep voice, squeezing Jungkook’s thigh. “I’m gonna suck your dick.” It was straightforward, but the elder wasn’t going to beat around the bush anymore.

Jungkook's lips parted in a light gasp when he felt Taehyung's firm grip on his thigh, glancing over at his boyfriend with raised eyebrows. ''R-right now?'' From the look in Taehyung's eyes, that seemed to be the case, the urgency in them non negotiable. They were half way home, but the lust stirring in both of them had them both too impatient. Kook pulled over and parked in a more secluded area by a simple gas station, not much people around as it was rather late. Jungkook turned the engine off before turning to properly look at Taehyung, snapping his seatbelt off within the same motion. ''Missed me that bad?'' He smiled coyly, leaning back in his seat to spread his legs a bit, showing off the already half hard erection that remained hidden underneath his pants.

“Mhm.” Taehyung thrusted his seatbelt to the side, placing one hand on each of Jungkook’s thighs as he leveled himself down in front of the younger, on his knees like a good boy. Gazing up at him through his eyelashes, Tae took his time when dragging down his boyfriend’s zipper with his teeth, holding a show despite their eagerness. “You learned how to drive?” His rough hand snuck into Jungkook’s boxers, the corner of his lips twitching up into a sly smirk once he’d finally gotten to feel Kook’s cock. The last few months of cybersex had him foaming at the mouth. He was always left pleased, but not as pleased as he could’ve been. The elder wanted more than to simply see Jungkook’s dick on the screen, no, he needed to touch. “You look so hot driving, babe..” Taehyung excitedly pulled out Jungkook’s hardened shaft, eyes twinkling with a sea of mischief. “So fucking hot.. shit.” He pressed a chaste kiss onto the tip. “Look at you, learning how to drive so you could pick up your boyfriend at the airport.” Tae stamped another open mouthed kiss on the swollen head, his fingers curling tighter around the base. “Missed this cock so fucking much..” He left a trail of wet kisses along the sides, running his tongue along the veins that traveled within the soft skin.

"Yeah, wanted to pick you up myself..." Kook nodded, his breath quickly getting heavier with each second watching Tae get to work that passed. "Missed your mouth so much, Tae.." Jungkooks gaze was fixed on the show that Taehyung was putting on for him, unable to hold back his audible sighs in pleasure. He could tell that Tae missed him, or rather; feel it. The needy look in his eyes told him that much, and kook's eyes mirrored it a thousand fold. "Fuck, yes... put it in your mouth babe, please..." The tease drove him mad way too quickly, the patience thrown out the window the moment Taehyung got on his knees. All Jungkook could think about was to feel his cock wrapped in the wet, fleshy warmth of his boyfriend's mouth.

The elder did as he was told— after teasing Jungkook some more; licking and squeezing at the rigid, sensitive skin. Then, Tae supposed enough was enough. Even he was getting awfully impatient. “Hmm~” The vibrations of his echoing hums spread flat along Jungkook’s cock, same as his tongue while Taehyung slowly bobbed his head, stroking the rest of what he couldn’t fit in his mouth. His other hand snuck underneath Jungkook’s shirt, feeling around the tight muscles he’d once dreamed of touching when he was away. Now, it was his reality. The elder’s soft inhales clashed against his boyfriend’s pubic region with every backward gliding motion, followed by noticeable exhales alongside every downward drag. He loved taking his time with this man, every twitch of his dick was to die for.

"Ah, fuck that feels good..." More than good, it felt fucking amazing. Jungkook had no restraint regarding any attempt to hold his throaty moans back, loudly exclaiming the pleasure Taehyung's mouth put him through. "I love you, I love your mouth.. shit i missed it so much." He hastily murmured between ragged breaths, one hand running through the dark locks hanging freely on Tae's head, gently keeping his hair tangled between his fingers. Kook hadn't felt this sensation in such a long time that he almost forgot how amazing it was compared to his own hand, his cock already growing to full size inside of Taes mouth, twitching desperately as well as profusely coating his boyfriend's tongue with precum.

Whether it was the soreness building up in his jaw, how challenging it was to breathe with every dip of his head, or the simple hunger for the taste of Jungkook’s burst of cum; Taehyung was dead set on alleviating his boyfriend free of the pent up energy he had stored throughout his body— especially his dick. He could feel Kook’s cock twitching, as if the attention it was getting was beginning to be too much. It drove Tae to suck him off faster, harder, sloppier. His eyes glistened over with a layer of unshed tears, the relentless deep-throating finally taking its toll on him. “Hmm..!” He looked up at his boyfriend, practically begging him to cum with one desperate gaze. Taehyung longed to taste the salty yet faintly sweet flavor of Jungkook’s load, hoping it would quench the dryness in his abused throat.

Jungkook's jaw hung open in awe, the eyes meeting his own from below looking desperately needy for his cum. Fuck, it was so hot; Kook knew he was unable to hold it any longer than this. Besides, there was really no need to, the elder was more than ready to be rewarded for his hard work. "Gonna cum, gonna cum, oh god...." Jungkook's words were shaking just like his entire body, the hand in Taehyung's hair tightening the grip to bring him down on his cock simultaneously with the way the younger bucked his hips upwards. Only a few more thrusts were needed before Jungkook's hips stuttered, thighs tensing up as his cum gushed out of his throbbing length to fill up Taehyung's mouth. "Tae, fuuuck yes...." he hissed with a throaty groan, leaning his head back as he licked his chapped lips.

Taehyung’s eyes widened at the sudden gush of cum, the blurry pair gradually coming down to their original, hooded shape once his tongue had gotten familiar with the taste. It was just as he remembered; tangy with a hint of sweet. He pulled away from Jungkook’s glistening cock with a ‘pop’, staring up at the younger as he willingly swallowed the rest of his warm load. Tae’s tongue swiped over his swollen lips, claiming the last bit of cum that lingered around the corners. Noticing that Jungkook’s dick was still oozing with delicious cum, he leaned back in to wrap his plush lips around the tip, cheeks profusely adorned with a hue of red as his wet tongue circled around the head; giving it a proper cleanup.

A soft, content sigh emitted from Jungkook, hips twitching slightly when Tae cleans up his sensitive cock from the aftermath of his orgasm. "Wow.." is all he could muster to say, that was probably the best oral he's ever received ever. Scrap that, it definitely was the best. Kook glanced down at his boyfriend as the haze of lust slowly dispersed, the doe eyes filled with affection replacing it. He loosens his grip in Taes hair to comb his fingers through it, down to caress his cheek. "I love you." His small smile grew, "so much. Get up here and let me kiss you."

The elder wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, finishing tucking Jungkook back in before he rose up from his knees, straddling his boyfriend’s lap. It was a tight space, but he liked it that way. All Taehyung wanted was to spend a week glued onto Jungkook’s side, knowing he’d regret it if he hadn’t spent every waking second with his favorite person. He only had a week, after all. Tae was going to make sure it was the best week yet. “I love you more.” He moved his slightly swollen lips against Jungkook’s chapped ones, wrapping his arms tight around the younger’s neck to bring him even closer, feeling the rhythmic pattern of their warm chests rise and fall against one another. This was something he missed, a lot. Taehyung withdrew from their gentle kiss after his breathing turned scarce, slender fingers lightly fidgeting with the silver hoops in Kook’s ears. “Is this your car? It’s almost as shitty as mine.”

"It's Yoongi's, I can't afford a car.." Jungkook chuckled, the undertone of his words a bit sour. He really wanted one of his own, but finding a job had been a shitty experience thus far. Losing hope was an understatement, but it wasn't gone. "I like your car more." He adds with a wider smile as he leans in closer, placing small kisses along Taes jaw to soothe the light aching from all the sucking he'd done. "Ready to go home?" Kook asks as he's practically holding Taehyung like he had no intention of letting go, contradicting his every word. He wanted to tell his boyfriend close for the entire week; itll suck to be alone for a second time, so every single second together matters.

Considering Yoongi lived close to their apartment, Taehyung insisted they hand the boy back his car (before they dirty it even more). Tae still couldn’t believe he sucked his boyfriend off in someone else’s car. It wasn’t the ideal setting, but Yoongi didn’t have to know.. Walking wouldn’t be a problem, Taehyung didn’t have an awful lot of baggage to carry— two, actually. He’d missed the familiarity of the streets; the small Noodle Shop owned by an older lady, a questionable tattoo parlor right around the corner, and the delicious aroma of fried food. He’d missed everything about his home; America was good.. but it wasn’t the same.

“Taehyung, dude, you there?” Yoongi’s deep voice snapped him out of it. Confused, Tae blinked a couple of times before he advanced back to reality. “I said,” The eldest crossed his arms, “you guys didn’t fuck or anything in my car, right?”

The look on Taehyung’s face was one of pure horror, as if he’d just seen a ghost right through Yoongi’s narrowed eyes. Or worse, as if he’d just been told that strawberries ceased to exist anymore.

“Wha— dude, no! That’s..” He cleared his throat, sneaking an ‘oh shit, we’re fucked’ side glance at Jungkook. “That’s g-gross.”

The mint-haired male found his anguish amusing. “Tae, calm down. I was just joking, I know you guys are classier than that or whatever.” A faint laugh slipped past his lips. Taehyung’s tense shoulders gradually fell down to their natural, less strained position. “Ah, of course. I knew that, we’re extremely classy when it comes to our sex spots. The classiest.” Now it was Taehyung’s turn to be amused, and a bit relieved. Still chuckling under his breath, Yoongi mindlessly waved the boys off before disappearing into his home, clueless about the truth.. Taehyung didn’t feel that guilty.

“Shit, that was close.” He turned to look at Jungkook, breaking out into a cheeky grin from the jittery rush of it all. “Come on, let’s get out of here before he realizes.” With that being said, Tae’s hand latched onto his boyfriend’s before he led them both to their home.

"Yeah!" Jungkook chimes while he interlocks his fingers with Taehyungs, keeping their palms tightly pressed together as they head home. The familiar surroundings seemed to amaze Tae, the look in his eyes one of wonder and awe. "Welcome back home, baby." Jungkook sang out as he unlocked the familiar door, the light creak noise it made as it opened a sound they've both heard at least a million times. He held the door open for Tae, ushering him to get inside his newly deep cleaned apartment.

“Woah, Kook.. you cleaned.” Taehyung muttered as though that was a big shock. And it was, a little bit. Their apartment looked brand new, definitely less cluttered than when he left.. He let go of his luggage, stuffing his large hands into his pockets before taking a tranquil stroll around the place, indulging himself in the overly familiar sight of it all. They made a lot of memories here, and walking back into such space after a long time was revitalizing for his soul. Maybe Taehyung had grown up, but damn did he miss it. It didn’t compare to the place he’d been staying at for the last few months. With a lopsided smile, Tae turned to face Jungkook, walking towards him with outstretched arms. “Angel, first the driving and now cleaning? You’re the best.” The elder leaned in to press a quick kiss onto Kook’s puckered lips, ignoring the fact that it sounded as if they were an old, married couple.

“Hello! Welcome back!” Taehyung craned his neck to the side, seeing three dear faces peek past the open doorway. Of course.

“Taehyung-ah, you look so tan and healthy! Like freshly baked bread.” Jisoo happily exclaimed, inviting herself in to hug Tae, tiptoeing to her full potential. It was weird how much their feelings towards one another changed during the span of a few months, but it was for the best. Jisoo was his friend’s girlfriend, and his boyfriend’s close friend, Taehyung had to toughen up.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” He laughed, withdrawing from her hug to shake Joon’s hand, leaning down slightly to kiss Yuna’s chubby cheek. Oh yeah, the elder wasn’t extremely afraid of babies anymore. The little girl had grown on him.

“So come on, are you fluent in English now or what?” Namjoon joked, the dimples in his cheeks sinking deeper when he leaned in for a proper hug, careful to not squish Yuna in between them.

“A little bit.” Tae responded in the little English he knew, smirking when they’d seemed impressed. The pair definitely knew how to amp up his confidence.

“Jungkookie, are you thrilled?” Jisoo grinned, playfully nudging her shoulder against his.

''I barely slept, I was too excited to pick him up.'' Jungkook's bunny-like grin grew as he reached out to pull Taehyung closer once more, hugging him from behind. He placed his chin on the elders shoulder, squeezing his arms around him. ''But worth.''

''You guys wanna do something tomorrow? Like, get dinner or something.'' Namjoon suddenly asks, he'd missed seeing the two boys together. ''We could bring the group together, they've missed this.'' He gestured over the younger boys tightly squeezed together, his dimpled smile growing as he glanced over at Jisoo; who hurriedly nodded in agreement.

''Hmm..'' Jungkook had missed out on having a good meal for a while. His hands found Taehyung's fiddling with his long fingers between his own. ''I bet you've missed korean food, I'm down to go.''

“Fuck— missed is an understatement, Kook.” Taehyung uncomfortably twisted his neck to look at his boyfriend, further flaunting his excitement with the obvious glint in his eyes.

“Language, Tae. We have virgin ears in the room.” Namjoon scolded, pointing down at a perplexed Yuna. She looked as if she’d just woken up from a nap.

“Ah, forgot.” Taehyung unlatched himself from Jungkook’s hold, extending out his arms towards the little girl in Joon’s protective hold.

“You’ve gotten heavy, Yuna.” Tae noted, “Uncle Tae will have to come by more often so I don’t miss out on too much.” He’d missed everyone; Tae wanted to catch up, figure out what’s been going on with their busy lives. How's it going with Hoseok and his longtime girlfriend; is she still saving herself for marriage?

Jin. The latter wanted to open up his own bakery shop; is that still his plan?

What happened to Jimin and that crush of his? Did he finally make a move like he’s been meaning to?

Lastly, Yoongi. Now that Taehyung thought about it.. the elder never really spoke about his ambitions.. Who knew what went on in his hyung’s head half the time. Catching up over dinner sounded like the perfect place to ask him what he’d been meaning to do after high school.

“Great! Then it’s a plan.” Jisoo smiled, clasping her hands in complete enthusiasm. Namjoon and Jisoo waved their temporary goodbyes after finalizing tomorrow's plan. Jungkook closed and locked the door behind them before turning and approaching Taehyung once more, reaching out to brush his long curls out of his eyes.

''Are you hungry? It's pretty late, but... You've only survived on airplane food for the past twelve hours.'' He shrugged. ''I don't have much, as usual, but I do have some leftover lunch boxes from Jisoo..'' He inched closer to get a good look at Tae's face, the long hours of travelling evident in the dark circles adorning his eyes. ''It's bulgogi and rice... It's de-li-cious.''

“It sounds de-li-cious,” Taehyung cutely mocked his boyfriend’s singsong voice, pulling away to stroll into the small kitchen. “I’ll heat up one plate for the both of us. I’m not too hungry.” The elder reached to pull on the fridge door’s handle, crouching down to look for the food, but instead he was faced with various bottles of alcohol. There was beer, wine, rum— a bit of everything. “Uh, baby? Why’s there so much alcohol in our fridge?” Taehyung tried to play off his mild concern with a lighthearted chuckle, mind suddenly racing back to his boyfriend’s drunken state in one of their FaceTime calls. “There’s like, nothing else to drink.” He looked up at Jungkook from his crouched position, facial expression becoming serious.

Ah. That. Shit.

''Yeah, uh...'' Jungkook stood by the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, not sure what to say to his defence. The expression on Taehyung's face said enough, he wasn't pleased at all; and with all rights, Kook knew he wasn't fond of alcohol in the same way. ''It's nothing, I just drink sometimes.'' He shrugged, hoping it would be enough. What young adult doesn't drink these days, right? ''There's probably a soda in there.'' He approached the fridge, digging through the clinking bottles to pull out a coca cola bottle made of glass, wiggling it in front of his boyfriend. He used his foot to quickly close the fridge, hoping he'd let it go.

Taehyung gently swatted the coca cola bottle away from his face, contemplating opening the fridge door once again but he simply straightened his posture, now at the same eye level with Jungkook. He’d already seen enough. “Sometimes? Kook, booze is basically all you have in there.” Tae didn’t care if his boyfriend drank. Hell, even he enjoyed the wonders of alcohol once in a while. But this fridge.. it looked an awful lot like the one back home. “Just.. promise me you’re drinking responsibly? That’s all I wanna know.” He sounded like such a dad, but Taehyung wanted nothing more than to protect Jungkook at this moment. Alcoholism was a touchy subject for him, and Tae hoped he wouldn’t get to see his boyfriend fall down the same hole he’d seen another man get sucked into in the past.

Jungkook felt the guilt welling up in his gut at the worry in Taehyung's eyes, the grip around the cola bottle tightening slightly. Truth was, he did drink more often than he probably would ever admit to, but he was not going to tell his boyfriend that. He didn't want to cause another worry, he was just going to be here for one week-- and he'd like their time together to be happy moments only. ''I promise.'' Kook clearly said, trying his best to keep his face straight. He decided he wouldn't drink at all during this-- maybe even quit completely. Couldn't be that hard, right? ''Don't worry. I'm not out of control.''

“Good.” Taehyung had no other option but to trust him; Jungkook’s never lied to him before. If his boyfriend was starting to form an unhealthy drinking habit, Kook would tell him in a heartbeat. Taehyung was confident he didn’t have anything to worry about, if the youngest promised, then he had no reason to doubt him.

“Alright, let’s eat something before heading to bed then. I’m tired.”

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[wolfgrowlwrites]

Tribe of Rushing Water Analysis

Since people were curious both on my thoughts about the Tribe of Rushing Water in Canon and how I’ve rewritten them in my fic Ties that Bind, here’s the massive post on it. If you read this entire thing, thank you.

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Alright so I’m not much of an internet funnyman but I was an English Major and someone with a hyperfixation on the Warrior Cats series so it’s time to analyze the Tribe! The following post will include Spoilers for Watership Down (yeah the rabbit book, I’ll come back to this) and I will speak openly about the Warriors Series as a whole with the assumption that the people reading have already read the books in question. The goal of this is to discuss the Tribe’s narrative placement in the story, and what I’m doing with them in my rewrite.

Now Warriors was originally just going to be one book, and then six, and then first three books of the second arc. The weird effects this has on the narrative and tone is best explored elsewhere, but I bring this up because Midnight, Moonrise and Dawn were meant to be a trilogy ending the series. And this trilogy was based on nothing other than Watership Down, all of which is important to consider when we talk about the Tribe. The Tribe was meant to only appear briefly, which means there was no need for fleshing them out, and they are the Warriors parallel of Cowslip’s Warren.

For those of us who haven’t read Watership Down, it is a story about a bunch of rabbits who have a prediction of the destruction of their home and set out on a quest to find a new one. (Sounds familiar right?) One of the dangers they run into along the way is what originally appears to be a friendly warren run by a rabbit named Cowslip. The rabbits immediately find themselves on edge, as while this warren is exceptionally friendly there is the underlying evidence that something is wrong. When they ask questions the natives to the burrow deflect and dance around answering, and while their customs seem similar, they’re different enough to be unsettling. Behold, I’ve described the Tribe in Moonrise. And like the Tribe, the fact that Cowslip’s Warren is hiding is that there’s something extremely dangerous hunting them. Cowslip’s warren is being maintained by humans who are actively snaring the rabbits, and the Tribe has Sharptooth who is also hunting them. In fact, the snares almost kill one of the traveling rabbits, while Feathertail does end up dying to Sharptooth.

(Thank god I’m doing this on Tumblr not Twitter, god this thread would be unbearable.)

(For those who have read Watership Down, Brook is probably supposed to be Strawberry.)

So narratively, the Tribe are there to be a hinderance to the traveling cats who seem friendly and similar to them but have a danger to them that will put the traveling cats at risk. That is the role they’re meant to play, and as the series was meant to end after Dawn, the Erins didn’t need to flesh the Tribe out really beyond that.

But then money and the publishers spoke and the series continued and we returned to the Tribe except uh… huh. Honestly I kinda don’t want to get into this because it’s the same thing every time. The Tribe, who when we first meet them are described as huge and able to fight eagles, and are well adapted for life on the mountains, have encountered some problem and only the Clan cats can save them. Rinse and repeat. And as someone who has attempted to figure out the Tribe’s Allegiances, if you thought they were bad about remembering details for the Clans oh boy. For specific citations of the Tribe needs the Clans help, oh no, please see Moonrise, Outcast, Sign of the Moon, and Tawnypelt’s Clan. Sign of the Moon in particular because a Clan cat straight up choses the Tribe’s new leader. Can you imagine how the Clans would react if a Tribe cat tried that?

But it’s okay right because of the whole time-travel thing which means that Jayfeather actually founded the Tribe and named the first Stoneteller. I could write an entire essay on how much I hate this plot point, but that’s not the point here. The more important part is that some how the Tribe went from names like Stone Song, Half Moon, Lion’s Roar, Clear Sky, Gray Wing, etc. to names like Brook where Small Fish swim. I, as a white guy, don’t want to touch the racism there, I’m pretty sure other people have explained it better than I can, but the short version is that a group named the Tribe with names like Jagged Rock where Heron Nest comes off like a stereotype for Native Americans, at least from my white American experience. So, uh, solid yikes on that one, especially when those aren’t even the names they use (because of course not they’re a fucking mouthful) which gets to the world building point I’m gonna touch on instead.

The Ancients become the Tribe but somehow the names grow so long that they all have to go by nicknames that… almost resemble what Ancient names were to begin with? I understand this is because the Tribe’s naming convention got established before the time loop thing, but honestly, there is no reason they should’ve been named like that and in fact more reasons why they shouldn’t have. Between the racism and then from a writing perspective, what is the point, of having names like that if they’re never used? Like narratively it makes no sense from the start, and the Time Travel plot only makes that more obvious.

All that said, I actually super adore the Tribe! I wish they’d been handled differently in a lot of places but they had so much potential to be cool that got lost along the way. So thus, we come to my rewrite. If you’re just here for Tribe Analysis you’re free to go, but if you’re here for how I’m rewriting the Tribe than settle in.

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In my rewrite the Tribe has Ancient names from the get go, because it makes more sense and allows for the Tribe to serve its original narrative function, that is, a place similar to what the Clan Cats are used enough to be comfortable, but different enough to be unsettling. The Tribe has ancestors not unlike StarClan but I have the Tribe’s worship working very differently. Stone Tellers are raised from birth to serve as a guiding force for the Tribe because they are the ones that can speak to the ancestors, and every full moon, when the Cave of Pointed Stones glows, they lead their tribe to speak with their ancestors, in something not unlike a gathering, but it is meant to be a form of remembrance, as they are sharing news with their ancestors instead.

The Tribe has very extreme views of their ancestors, refusing to take the Tribe of Endless Hunting’s name in vain. It is also believed that a Tribe cat that has passed cannot move on to the Tribe of Endless Hunting until a final task has been completed. This task is something the cat would’ve wanted to do while alive, but didn’t get to, so now one of their family, or a close friend, does it in their place. (To a reasonable extent, for example telling someone that the cat who died was in love with them, not settling down with them to raise a family because that’s what the dead cat wanted to do.) Those who have not moved on linger as ghosts. They don’t have stars in their pelts, and they don’t have the ability to see the future to warn their Tribemates the way StarClan or the Tribe of Endless Hunting do. They are capable of speaking to those who can see them, usually Stone Teller, but otherwise they tend to simply watch and wait for someone to help them move on.

The Tribe believes that the future is chosen by the Tribe of Endless Hunting, to challenge their omens is the most heretical thing a cat can do. The current Stone Teller decides a cat’s future when they are born, Cave-guard, Prey-Hunter, or rarely, the next Stone Teller. Those kits are taken by the current Stone Teller once they’re old enough to be weaned and raised in the Cave of Pointed Stones. Their name is chosen by the current Stone Teller and stripped from them when they become the next Stone Teller. Stone Teller is meant to be the ancestor’s conduit to the living and an impartial leader to the Tribe. However, not every leader can live up to those expectations, and should the Tribe begin to doubt the current Stone Teller’s capability to guide them, they can make a new cat leader. This cat would do the job of leading the Tribe, while Stone Teller continues to serve as the medicinal and spiritual leader. This rarely happens, and when it does it is rarely so clean cut, as no one particularly enjoys admitting they’ve made a mistake and need to be replaced as leader.

The Stone Teller is assisted in leading the Tribe by the head of the Cave-Guards and the head of the Prey-Hunters, these are seen as the cats that are best at that job and capable of quick decision making and good judgement calls. They often work together to organize hunting patrols and discuss issues in the territory, often presenting Stone Teller with their solutions alongside problems.

Honestly the Tribe won’t be playing a very large role in my rewrite as a whole, but since they have an entire arc dedicated to them, I wanted to make sure I had them well fleshed out. There’s a few details I’ve left out because this is long enough, but if you’re curious about anything I’ve said either about the Tribe or my rewrite, hit me up.