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phantom-of-the-ruckus · 1 year ago

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The lost episode of Mortimer's Handeemen

Disclaimer: This is a creepypasta meant to be a just-for-fun Halloween thingy. I did not go all the clichés. I now just find most of them silly, but I know there are some good ones. This creepypasta is not connected to any AU and is more of an internet story that would appear in the games in the 1990s to 2010s with some speculation about whether it's real or if the one who posted it was a troll or did it for entertainment.

Either way, happy halloween! Enjoy ^^

TW: for blood, scary imagery, horror, creepypasta, body horror, and gore

[An audio log is found. A mysterious person presses it. The message start.]

H-Hello?

[It appears to be a young teenager. Her voice is groggy and whispery, you can hear her heavy breathing]

I...I hope you can hear me or...well rather listening to this audio log.

I'm trapped, and I can't get out...I can't remember well how I got in, but I can tell you what I know of my current location and well my personal state.

[There was a long pause and heavy breathing. In the background there were some steps and scratches at the distance.]

T-they're looking for me....

[It appears that she is muttering to herself. After another long period of silence, she begins to speak once again.]

Sorry...I'm not exactly in a situation where I can easily tell my story. I'm c-currently hiding in some domain of the studio.... T-the Handeemen Studio to be exact. The one that got burned down and close.

[She let out another long pause as footsteps in the distance could be heard.]

I am not supposed to be here. I am supposed to be in the testing rooms, or I think it was the testing rooms. Perhaps I did die and I am a ghost... No. They are looking for me. I must be alive...

[A door shuts and the mysterious girl lets out some heavy breathing.]

I think they left. Hopefully.

[She breathes once again. Her voice is hearing a bit close to the voice recorder.]

I...I don't remember much. I can't remember my family, if I had one, nor my age. I can't recall my own face, or my own name. I think It was Jessica Parker....or was it Jessica Drew? No...maybe it was Siobhan Drew or Siobhan Parker.... It must be one of those names. They are familiar to me, but I can't remember who belong to who. I do remember they were part of a story. The story of how I got here. That is the story that I can't seem to forget, and probably the reason why I am recording this. I may never remember it or probably would get killed for running away. So...I guess I am recording this now in hopes anyone finds it.

[There was another long pause and a sigh followed after.]

I suppose I can't remain nameless for the rest of this recording. I don't want to remain nameless as I don't remember my name of who am I. But....but I think I used to be called "Jay." It's written on my wrist, or well is smeared with my own blood and I can see is either "Jay" or "J 4 Y." I used to have some writing on my arms and legs, they are smeared and I can't decipher what it was or why it was written. The only thing readable was the "Jay" or "J 4 Y." You can call me Jay. After all it does sound like a name, and I do love the idea of having a name...even if it's not my own name....since I can't remember. But....but I do remember one name. It's Jordan. No last name since I can't recall. Jordan was a kid I used to babysit...or I think I did. I used to watch him. I do recall a lady who was his guardian or mom I don't remember her name. I think it was either one of the possible names I mentioned before.

She'll be just Jordan's mom. It makes it easier for me to remember, and she no longer becomes a nameless face in what remains of my memory. So...Jordan's mom usually called me to watch over Jordan. I think I was his babysitter. I can't remember. She often had to go to work, and we spent hours upon hours doing homework, playing, and...watching TV He...he had a favorite show. A puppet show, some sort of Muppet's knockoff....or was it Sesame Street? It was a cancelled show from a closed down and burnt down studio. The same studio I am trapped here today Mortimer's Handeemen. The thing that got me where I am today. My own nightmare, and the parasite that is taking away my life and memories.

[There was a small pause. Jay was oddly silent. It was almost as if she was taking a time to recompose herself.]

I can remember how did they use to look like. They looked friendlier, happy, and almost as if they never thought about harming anyone. What a crude lie. I see them every day. They are mean, and they like to sew puppets into my arms. I can feel the pain, and then I feel asleep and wake up with no memory.

It's an endless cycle. Every day, I remember less and less about myself. My memories are snapping moments in time. I can't remember how long or when they happened. But I do remember the handeemen from the episodes. I remember them so vividly, and their hyperrealistic faces that were captured into my memories. I saw them permanent smiles. They made Jordan happy ...or I think they did.

He loved the show. It was no longer on aired, but he managed to get some merchandise, VHS tapes of the episode, specials, and shorts. He owned the figures of the main group and the dog. I...I think his favorite was the dog or the artistic guy, Nick Nack. I remember seeing them in a lot of the episodes Jordan and I used to watch. Or maybe it's because I have vivid snapping memories of a hyperrealistic dog made out of humans parts. Large teeth filled with blood, a red eyes staring at me, and his killer bloody paws that could maul anyone within reach.

[Jay pauses momentary.]

Sorry, I lost track of myself.

My mind keeps flooding with memories and...I keep forgetting why am I here sometimes. Not...not how I got here, but rather why am I hiding again...

I know I don't have much time...so it's better if I finish my story. That if I actually have time as they might get me soon...

[There is another period of silence. Jay gets close one again. Her voice is trembly.]

J-Jordan adored the show, and we watch it like a lot. Eventually, we ran out of episodes, and Jordan was getting tired of watching them.

This is where it gets a bit blurry for me. I can recall caring for Jordan, and I am sure I bought him a VHS tape.

But...but the thing is I can't remember why I bought it.

I think he asked me if there were unseen episodes to watch, or I wanted to surprise him.

I was talking to who I believe was my boyfriend. I don't remember his name, so he'll remain as "boyfriend." There is also this other guy involved, so he'll be called "Guy."

So...Boyfriend told me about Guy. He was in his 20s I think. He loved to break into abandoned places for loot, which...also included the abandoned studio.

According to Guy, he didn't break into the studio as often. He got inside like three times I believe or from what I can actually remember.

One of these times, he found a mysterious VHS in the late creator's office. I can't tell if that was a stretch to be cool, or if he actually went in there. Either way, the VHS was a very real thing.

The episode was a never seen or aired episode. The episode was called "Mortimer's Handeemen and the mysterious Meteorite." In the back there was a note saying "PROTOTYPE. DO NOT PLAY" but Guy did play it for some testing before putting it on sale.

I knew that Jordan would love it, so I bought the VHS tape for about 20 or 10 bucks. I remember doing some bargaining. I can't remember the exact price, but I got a sweet deal and immediately brought it to Jordan.

We turned on the TV and placed the tape. The episode started with Mortimer staring with his permanent smile. There was so music. Only a dreadful silence. I didn't have too much importance, and took the VHS out and in thinking the episode froze.

Then, the episode started with Mortimer greeting the audience. He sounded less cheerful than usual. He was introducing the fictional place where the Handeemen lived....but he was rather staring almost as if he could see us. I ignored thinking it was just a prototype error.

Eventually the main theme started. It was very slowed down, and the music sounded off-key. We figured it was due to the age of the VHS tape and continued watching the episode. It started normal with one of the kids finding a strange rock and calling the Handeemen about it.

Then, things started to get odd. The tape suddenly stopped and looped over when the Handeemen were picking up the meteorite. Suddenly the TV went black, almost as if someone turned off....but it was still on and the VHS tape was running.

The screen turned on and showed an empty room. It was silent, but I could feel something was lurking over. I turned off and on the TV. The normal episode was on. I rewind the tape, but everything was as if the image was not there. We continued watching the episode thinking it was a glitch.

Or so we thought...

As the episode progressed. The handeemen sounded less friendly. They sounded annoyed and furious. Their eyes were slowly becoming red. Then they went back to normal as if nothing happened.

I was getting nervous as this was starting to look less of a malfunction and more of a prank. I left the room to call Guy and ask him what was this all about. He was confused and told me that never happened before.

Suddenly I heard a scream. It was Jordan. I hung up and rushed to the living room. He was curled up and crying as he begged me to turned it off. I was confused, so I watched at the TV to see what was going on.

[Jay gives out a long pause. Growling can be heard from the outside. Her breath can be heard again, until the growling fades.]

Sorry... there were puppets nearby...

Where was I?

Oh yes...

When I looked back at the TV, I saw hyperrealistic man. He had a horrified expression and seemingly was rotting. He was sitting on a chair...but he was cut in half and was bleeding. He had mitten sewn into his hands, as I could see the bloody stiches.

It was almost as it was a real thing going on, as if the camara was live. It was horryfing.

Jordan began to scream and begged me to put it away. The channel began to fave, as numerous symbols and strange words began to appeared. I tried to turn off the TV but the off and on button nor the controller were working.

Suddenly a raspy voice began to muttered "I C U" just as the image of the man cut in half was getting closer. Before anything else could happened, I unplugged the TV and everything shut down.

Jordan was upset and terrifed as ever. It was within very good reaons. I did my best to calm him down and told him that I will get to the bottom of this. He decided to go outside and play with his friends. I called Boyfriend, and then called Guy.

When they arrived, Jordan was drawing on the floor. Boyfriend and I confronted Guy about the tape. He swore he never tampered with it. I took him to the living room and plugged the TV back. The episode runned down normally to my surprised.

Jordan eventually sat down and watch it as Guy told me I was crazy and to never contact him again. He left leaving Jordan and I confused. Boyfriend tried to be suportive, and telling me it was propbably some prank in bad taste.

[Jay pauses. It appears she needed a momment to think.]

I do like to think that was the case, but reality turned to be another. Now I am stuck here. Loosing my memory and myself eventually... Alone. A lab rat And-

[Jay pauses before sighing]

Sorry. I lost track again.

I....we....

Jordan. I talked to Jordan about the situation. I told him that this was either a malfunction or a prank from Guy. He felt unsure, but decided to trust my word. That's what I can remember most about the event.

I know that I ended up staying watching for the night. I cannot assure you wether it was on that same night or if a few days pased. All I know was that Jorda's Mom had aked me to stay overnight to watch her son.

And then, that was when things started to get spooky and unsettling...

Jordan was in his room asleep. I just tucked him in, and I was helping Jordan's mom to clean the kitchen. The phone began to rang and I picked up thinking it was probably Jordan's mom asking me if Jordan was okay.

When I picked up the phone....there was silence and a breathing.

"Hello?" I said, thinking this was some bad connection.

"Have you checked on the kid yet?" My blood went cold as shivers sent right down my spine. I dropped the phone and ran towards Jordan's room.

He was still in his bed asleep. I checked around to see if there was anything off. When I was sure he was safe, I left the room and picked up the phone.

"He's alright." That was the lat thing I said when I hung up.

15 minutes, I recieved the same call.

"Have you checked on the kid yet?" I once again dropped the phone and checked on Jordan.

He was alright, and I hung up the phone refusing to answer the question this time. The mysterious guy called again but I hung up as soon as I heard his voice, and went directly to check on Jordan.

After a while, I decided to leave the door open and keep an eye if anything happened. The same mysterious person kept calling for about 20 minutes. I hung up each of his calls, and he eventually stopped.

I started to slowly doze off. It was getting pretty late, but part of me remained unsettled about the mysterious calls. I doze off momentarily before the phone rang. I hesitated to pick it up, fearing it was the mysterious caller.

To my surprise and relief, it was Jordan's mom. She was calling to check if Jordan was alright.

"He's just in bed. Everything is fine, ma'am." I said just as I heard the TV turning on, and the Handeemen's playing. I ended the conversation and hung up.

I was upset. I figured that Jordan woke up and tried to sneak into watching another episode. When I entered the living room, my skin went pale. The episode I brought from guy was playing, but there was no one watching it.

I took the TV remote and tried to turn off the TV or stop the player. Neither of them worked, but their batteries were still on. I tried to manually turned them off, but it was useless. Then...I tried to unplug the TV.

"This should do it." I thought to myself.

The episode continued to play as if nothing had happened.

Terrified, I tried to remove the tape but what happened next, left me paralyzed in fear.

The screen went back, and then showed Guy being strapped into a bed. His eyes were swollen and he was screaming. Suddenly, the scientist puppet, Riley, entered the room. She had a twisted smile and her eyes were glowing red. In her left hand, she had a saw.

I could not feel my body as I was too horrified to move. I saw Riley slowly approaching guy as she maniatically laughed.

"You'll become one of us!" She said just as she slowly began to press the saw into Guy's torso and slowly cuting him off as blood dropped.

The screen went back, and the next picture was a twisted and bloody Mortimer staring at the screen with a teacup filled with blood and the letters I, C, and U underneath.

The picture then changed to a video of Nick. He was in his art room. His face was melting so hyperrealistic, that it almost looked as if he was bleading. He was sobbing uncontrollably as he strocked some abstract painting of black and red.

The screen went black, and then Daisy appeared on what is seemed to be a kitchen. She was humming to herself as she baked a pie made out of human organs. My stomatch twirled up as I could see Guy's eyes into the mix.

The screen shut down as I stood there trembling as the phone began to ring. I walk towards it and pick up with trembling hands.

"Have you checked on the kid yet?" It was the same mysterious caller as before. I dropped the phone and ran towards Jordan's room.

The bed was empty and he was nowhere to be found.

I picked up the phone and I cried "WHO ARE YOU? WHERE IS HE?"

There was no answer, and no sign of the caller. Then the call disconected and the phone disconnected completely. I dropped the phone, and rushed towards the living room when I heard sobbing.

The place was empty, but the TV had a distrubing picture. It was the same mysterious human puppet man, but now where was Guy accompaning him. His eyes were gone and he was bleeding. He had sewn mittens into his hands, and just as the mysterious man, his upper body was sitting on a bleeding chair.

There was some silent sobbing as the background, but my eyes focused on the message underneath the figures...

"HELP ME" Underneath was the direction to the abandoned studio.

Fearing that Jordan was taken by those puppets, I left the house and rode on my bike into the studio. After I came in, I broke inside and desperately began to look for Jordan.

[Jay's voice trails off as she starts to become uneased.]

I-I couldn't find him, but I heard noices from the outside. I feared that they were outside...a-and went down deeper. Then someone struck me in the head and everything became a blurr.

I heard the voices of Jordan's mom, Boyfriend, the police, and Jordan looking for me outside. I doze off as they shut down.

I woke up on a lab with a puppet sewn into my hand, and then I lost my memory slowly and began to forget who am I or where am I, just remembering the evil faces of the puppets and how I got here.

Now, this the only chance I got to store what becomes of my memory. If you find this, that means that I am dead...or if miracously you found me with no memory.

Either way, please find the VHS and destroy it. No one should have ever seen the lost episode, and become a victim like I or Guy became.

[The tape ends as Riley Ruckus tosses it aside , scoffing, before returning to work. Not realizing that a mysterious man is staring at the tape from afar. His plaque, reading JORDAN]

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HAPPY HALLOWEEN AND I WISH YOU A VERY SPOOKY DAY!

~ With care, Phantom <3

#hello puppets #hello puppets midnightshow #riley ruckus #nick nack #mortimer handee #daisy danger #creepypasta #tw: gore #tw:blood #tw: blood #tw: saws #tw: body horror #tw: horror #tw: murder #tw: creepypasta #Happy Halloween #spooky season #goretober I guess #enjoy!

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shadowaj · 1 year ago

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Heya! Welcome to our creepy studio filled with oddities!

Hi and good mourning, it’s me Aj! I’m also referred to as ShadowAj, Shady and RealShadyGhost. I’m a spooky yet silly ghost who draws and such. Here, you’ll mainly see me post fan art of my favorite series, commissions, and OC content (scroll down for more info on this!), as well as memes probably. Most of the drawings I post here will be 2D digital art, but occasionally I may post 2D traditional. I hope you enjoy your visit here!

(Small content warning, although I won’t post anything NSFW, I may post drawings with blood and/or light gore, body horror, and disturbing imagery, so beware.)

Things I Enjoy!

Ok so here I’ll just list off some of my interests so you can get to know me better. Ghosts have interests too!

- General Interests -

Spooky things, which includes horror movies and games, the occult, Halloween, urban legends, things like that.

Mysteries (I love murder mysteries, detective stories, strange and bizarre internet mysteries, and stuff like that)

Coffee (I’m a big fan)

Video Games (I’m bad at them but I still enjoy them…)

Movies (I enjoy going to theaters and watching movies, especially animated films.)

Listening to music (I am a fan of Metal/Rock (Metallica, Pantera, Ghost, etc.) music, as well as Synth. I do also listen to OSTs of my favorite series. A band I recommend checking out is ‘Dance with the Dead’, they are an indie band and mainly do horror synth and synthmetal. (Well, then again, I like any music that sounds nice or is spooky so)

Anime (Which ones? I’ll list them later give me a sec!)

Drawing (This should be obvious I mean I post drawings here but ima include it anyway)

Character Design (this is kinda an extension of drawing but I do enjoy looking at different designs and taking notes on what I can do differently with my own designs.)

Writing (Mainly my OC lore and such)

Collecting Plushies (I have an addiction help)

Theme Parks and Roller Coasters (I love roller coasters)

Cooking (I’m well known for my evil pancakes)

For aesthetics, I am a fan of spooky aesthetics (Wow!), steampunk, gothic (i love gothic architecture…), vaporwave, neon, and others.

-Anime and Games that I really enjoy-

Soul Eater

Danganronpa

Master Detective Archives: RAIN CODE

Zero Escape

AI The Somnium Files

Ace Attorney

Mob Psycho 100

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

Gurren Lagann

Persona (I’m a fake fan I’ve only played the P5 games and I still haven’t finished P4G)

Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective

Kaguya-sama: Love is War

Nichijou

Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Pokémon

Sonic

Chainsaw Man (Again, fake fan, I haven’t been keeping up)

And others that I didn’t list here whoopsie

Original Content!

As I said before, I’ll be posting drawings of OCs, mainly from the webcomic series I’m working on titled ‘Shadow Realm’. I do have other original series and ideas as well, so here’s a little info…

Shadow Realm

Shadow Realm is a 4-part action horror urban fantasy series starring Sophia Alvarado, a Cuban teenage girl who lives in Miami who one day ends up in a different and strange world from our own, and ends up encountering ghosts and gaining powers of electricity. With her occult and coffee-obsessed friend Violet Bellerose and a friendly ghost she meets on the other side dubbed Shady, they encounter different ghosts and supernatural occurrences all across Miami. There’s a lot more to it, but that’s the basic gist of it for now. (It gets very complicated from part 2 onward…)

Kendall Convenience

A small game project that has the player take the role of one Katrina Diaz, a convenience store worker in Miami who works the graveyard shift. This takes place in the same universe as Shadow Realm.

Mystères de Lenoir

Mysteres de Lenoir is a series that follows the protagonist, Stella Auclair, a fresh detective who takes place in steampunk and gothic France during the Belle Époque era. Stella works with André Dupin, at the Dupin Detective Agency, and they solve a series of mysteries, most of which are murder cases.

I have two other series, but those are a secret for now… I will say though that one of them is a western, and the other is a single volume (One-Shot) comic.

Closing thoughts

If you read through all that wow good job you’re super cool and spooky methinks perchance.

Oh yeah, you can find me on other platforms like Twitter, YouTube, Instagram, Pinterest, Pixiv, and Twitch

Even if you don’t have an account there you should still check them out!!!!

ask me anything you have questions about or if you're bored and want to talk!

another thing, i speak English and i can understand Spanish (I'm hispanic and i still can't speak this language it's embarrassing i know )

(also i may reupload this post in the future to add custom graphics, update interests, etc.)

#shadowaj #character art #artists on tumblr #halloween #digital art #danganronpa #horror #occult #oc character #spooky #idk what else to tag #see ya

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gracieelinn · 10 months ago

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Hey-oh! I'm Gracie! Welcome to my little corner of the internet!

💗✨️💗

💗 about me: 💗

I am a daughter of the King, saved by God's grace! 💗 I love to read, write, sing, doodle, and crochet. I'm a dog person, herbal tea enjoyer, and resident memer. 🙃

Here, you'll find all of my silly musings: things like story ideas, art, and other random bits of weirdness.

💗✨️💗

💗 a few of my favorite things: 💗

✨️ favorite books: the Mistborn trilogy (Era 1) by Brandon Sanderson; the Cytoverse series by Brandon Sanderson; the Lunar Chronicles series by Marissa Meyer; the Gallagher Girls series by Ally Carter; the Enola Holmes series by Nancy Springer

✨️ favorite movies: Labyrinth; Back to the Future; Who Framed Roger Rabbit?; Kung Fu Panda; The Mummy (1999); How to Train Your Dragon; Rise of the Guardians; Arsenic and Old Lace (classic B&W dark comedy, please go watch it if you haven't!); Tangled; Aladdin (1992); Beauty and the Beast (1991); The Lion King (1994); the Lord of the Rings Trilogy

✨️ favorite tv shows: The Librarians; Avatar: the Last Airbender; Tangled: the Series/Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure; DuckTales ('17); Star Trek: the Next Generation; Psych; DreamWorks Dragons; Haikyu!!; Snow White with the Red Hair

✨️ favorite games: Super Mario Bros./MarioKart; Wii Sports/Wii Sports Resort; The Legend of Zelda (spec. Breath of the Wild);Yoshi's Crafted World; Untitled Goose Game

✨️ favorite bands/artists: Owl City; For KING and Country; MercyMe; TobyMac; Casting Crowns; The Piano Guys; KANSAS; Phil Collins; Selena Gomez and the Scene; OneRepublic; Coldplay; Imagine Dragons

✨️ favorite foods: anything with pasta! i also love beef ramen with mushrooms and broccoli

✨️ favorite drinks: Cherry Coke, coffee, and boba tea

✨️ favorite colors: any shade of blue or purple, raspberry red, and mauve/blush pink

✨️ favorite aesthetics: "galaxycore" (anything with stars, planets, or galaxy print), cottagecore, and vintage/retro ('50s-'80s)

✨️ favorite season: fall/autumn

✨️ other favorites: rain, dogs, ducks, geese, cozy sweaters/sweatpants, yarn, camping, and baking

💗✨️💗

💗 just a couple of requests: 💗

✨️ while i appreciate any and all comments, i do want to ask you all to keep them PG-rated, please. i aim to make this a family-friendly place, and i need your help to keep the content on my blog clean and tidy! thank you in advance for your understanding and cooperation.

✨️ i am not currently taking commissions for art or writing projects. it would make me very happy to see such interest in my work, but i unfortunately cannot commit to taking on paid commissions at this present time. sorry for any inconvenience.

✨️ please be kind and respect others! i know that sounds like a simple request, but i understand how difficult that can be if/when there's any disagreement in a group. i hope to make this blog a wholesome, friendly place to share ideas and creativity. i would be so very thankful if you would help me to do that.

💗✨️💗

I hope you are having a blessed day!

~ Gracie 💗

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justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 1 year ago

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Hiya!! Can I have a matchup for Bungo Stray Dogs and maybe Attack on Titan? My self appointed nickname for the internet is Bunny or Julii and my pronouns are she/her. I am a leo and a INFP. I’m 5’1” (I think, I’m short but it only bugs me when it’s inconvenient. IE: high shelves.) I’m plus sized and pale with fluffy honey colored hair with natural dark brown roots. I usually shave half of my eyebrows off so they’re nubs to draw a new, pointier shape but I’m lazy and don’t draw them on a lot. I’ve been told I’m dainty and have slightly bucked and a tiny overbite- my teeth kind of look like rabbit teeth tbh. Personality: I’m kind, obnoxiously so and mostly to ppl who don’t deserve it. I’m also silly and careful ab people’s feelings. I tend to be, not a mom friend but a big/lil sis type of friend depending on who. I’m shy at first but can get very loud and have been told I’m a funny girl. I kind of hate authority but need to be told what to do- it’s a battle of two wolves. I also really like princess treatment a lot lmao like pet names are a yes with ppl I know. I dress cutesy or goth or both and ppl have been weird about it. People infantilize me a lot. It doesn’t help I’m autistic and have ADHD Hobbies: drawing, writing stories, watching videos, cosplaying, collecting fashion dolls and Care Bears. Likes- pet names, praise, art, anime, spicy/sweet foods, rabbits, dolls, scary movies/horror attractions Dislikes: cruel people, existence- like the constant struggle of it (I’m fine I swear), being treated like a kid bc of my hobbies and appearance, most modern country music, and Julius Caesar. I forgot to put my sexuality but I identify as queer and mayyyybe ace. I prefer women but I do like the occasional man and the like. I like a buuuunch of anime and fictional men, so it’s okay if I’m matched up with a man. :)

Hi Bunny! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long. I saw your additional fandom ask and have included it here. Since you said you would prefer a female matchup but would be okay with a male, I've gone with female matchups but included a male suggestion as well. If you'd like me to elaborate on these alternate matchups, just let me know! I hope you like your matchups!

In Bungo Stray Dogs, I match you with...

I think you and Naomi would get along well. You’re both people who care deeply about those you care about and are “sister” figures to your friends.

Naomi does have a bad habit of babying those she cares about, and you definitely fall under that category. Pleas just tell her that it’s something that you dislike and she’ll do her best to treat you as an adult.

She does sometimes slip up though so be patient with her while she breaks the habit. She’s trying her best, it will just take time.

Did I hear princess treatment? Oh, Naomi is all over that. She’s always asking to do your hair, pick out outfits for you, massage your back, take you out on dates, buy things for you. She enjoys being able to treat the person she loves.

I get the feeling that Naomi would like a mix of pop and country music. She may not seem like it but I think she would enjoy modern country music a fair bit. Please recommend some songs for her to listen to.

For your consideration, Atsushi would be a good male matchup for you.

In Attack on Titan, I match you with...

Sasha is a lot like Naomi in that she cares deeply about you. But there’ll be no babying from this one. Whether they’re an actual child, a friend, or an older high ranking official, she’s treating everyone the same, especially if they have food.

Speaking of food, Sasha loves taking you on breakfast, lunch, and dinner dates. She gets to spend time with you and try lots of tasty food? That’s a win-win in her book.

She also needs to be told what to do a lot of the time since she struggles with taking the initiative. It’s handy for you both having friends like Mikasa who can take the lead when need be.

Your carefulness of peoples feeling balances out Sasha’s naturally “say what’s on her mind” way of talking. You’re able to smooth over a lot of conflicts that may arise from Sasha carelessly saying the wrong thing to the wrong person.

Please don’t ask her to watch horror movies with you. She’ll eat all the snacks and once they’re gone, she has nothing to distract her from what’s happening on screen. She’ll be up all night due to fear and a stomach-ache from the snacks…

For your consideration, Connie would be a good male matchup for you.

In Jujutsu Kaisen, I match you with...

Nobara is a good balance between Naomi and Sasha. She enjoys spoiling you but won’t overdo it. She’s a firm believer that if she goes overboard with buying and doing things for you now, it won’t be special when she does it later.

That’s not to say she won’t give you the princess treatment though, especially if she knows you like it. She’ll also give you a bunch of pet names based on things she knows you like or her favourite features of you.

Definitely someone who can take charge when needed. She’s a born leader and has the charisma to make it work. She’ll happily give you guidance where it’s needed.

You two would be the “older sister” friends to a lot of people. You both give off that energy and, when combined, you’re like the older sister everyone needs, always looking out for them but teasing them mercilessly.

Won’t treat you like a kid. In the world of demons and curses they live in, treating someone as something less than they are can be fatal. She will treat you the way she wants so be treated, no more, no less.

For your consideration, Yuji would be a good male matchup for you.

#writing #fanfic #matchup #matchup request #request #bungo stray dogs #naomi tanizaki #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #sasha braus #jujutsu kaisen #nobara kugisaki

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weirdthoughtsandideas · 2 years ago

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I've written a lot of fics, but I do have a lot of original work too. I decided to share some.

I'm gonna put them up into sections.

First section is called "stuff I wrote when I was younger and gave up on":

I am not gonna include stuff I wrote under the age of 10. I'm gonna include stuff I wrote from age 11-15 and thought "this will be a big hit if I just finish writing it".

There was this one story about an entire class of students getting expelled from their school, so they are sent to this boarding school where ~wacky stuff~ happen. All I remember is that they all slept in the same room and there was these giant bunk beds - like we're talking 10+ beds on top of each other. There were two of these 10+ bed bunk beds and then the remaining kids got to sleep in hammocks tied together in the roof??

This story about a girl who discovers she could visit people in their dreams. So she decides to visit all of her classmates and kiss them in their dreams, just so she could see their reactions at school the next day. I mean, what if everyone in class dreamt about the same person kissing them and then seeing said person? Chaos and confusion ensues.

I kinda predicted covid, except I was a bit off. In like 2013/2014, I wrote a story that said that in 2017, a pandemic would come and take a lot of lives. Two girls pass away in this disease, and then when their mutual best friend grows up, she gets pregnant with twins and names them after her lost friends. But, here is the plot twist: Her children are possessed by the spirits of her best friends. So not only have she named her children after them, it's also them *reborn*... oooooohhhh. Also I had too many jokes about her best friends reacting that they were teenagers now trapped in babies' bodies, instead of like. Moving on with the story-

I had this full world of characters that I thought would eventually be included in some animated show I was so sure I'd make and it would be famous. Anyway, it was about these 12 year old twins that were going through life. They had a neighbour who had a rainbow T-shirt and a guy friend who was all silly but he had a tragic past. There was not much plot tbh, everyone just vibed and I just liked drawing them in different scenarios. They still live in my head. I may or may not have created a blog about them when I was 11 and I posted drawings of them there and I have no idea how to delete that blog so it's still there on the internet somewhere.

I have always been liking stories about large families and I have tried to make countless stories based on large families I’ve had on the Sims. They have never gotten far. I have also tried to create stories based on moviestarplanet films.

Alright, and now we are moving on to ”stories I am trying to write every now and then”.

These include two primary ones. The first one is called ”The Six Spins”. You will def see where I have gotten inspo from.

There is six siblings in a household. Oldest is almost 16 and the youngest is 10 months. Their surname is Spins.

They find out their parents have died in a plane crash, so now they gotta live with one of their relatives.

The relatives try to discuss where to put them, and many want to split them up cause no one can take all six. Until their father’s cousin takes them.

He lives up north at the countryside (in which country they live in, it’s never stated. I gave them pretty western names though, and I am wondering if I should change some to make it more diverse + unclear where they really are from).

They find out they are neighbours with these twins named Matias and Martina. I originally wanted them to be named Marcus and Martina but people would think I’d got that from the norwegian twin duo (Markus and Martinus). And it’s very important the other twin is named Martina.

One of the Spins siblings have this thing for Martina and they have a deep conversation in a tree. I actually wrote this very tree scene for a ”short scene” in my writing class in high school and I got an A for it 😊 Which has been my biggest wish in all my years in school - go get top score for a creative writing assignment.

Something is incredibly weird with the twins’ dad. Like his whole vibe is off.

One day, the twins’ mother is missing. They later find her corpse.

After they did, the father suddenly takes the twins and drives tf away from there. So it’s up to the Spins siblings to go look for them.

Here I am not as sure about all the details. I know all six will sit on a rooftop in a city and they’ll also meet their aunt who is like ”wtf are you doing here does your guardian know you’re on the run” and they are like ”Yeah we left a note”

And here is my other story. Currently unnamed and does not have as much plot yet. But I wanna make a comic or something about it later.

It’s about a girl named Monica who when she was 1 lost her parents in a car crash (don’t ask what it is with me and crashes), so she grows up with her aunt and her cousin.

Her aunt is cold asf and both her and her cousin have trauma from her during their childhood. But at some points, they get along fine with their aunt. It depends on the day, really.

Monica is starting upper secondary/high school. I again do not know in which country this should take place in, and I will base it kinda on my own school system… but she starts 10th grade, that is all you need to know.

She gets a friend who is blonde and that is all I know about her looks and personality rn. One time she follows this friend home and learns she’s an identical triplet, so there is just a bunch of pics of three identical girls everywhere.

She also has two other friends who has this thing going on in the bg kind of. One time they start getting a bit intimate in an empty classroom and Monica walks in and then at the same second walks out again before even reacting. Hard to explain, but kinda like this Violetta scene:

Both her and her cousin are WLW in some way and they kinda bond over it. Her cousin has a bigger plot regarding it, though.

The rest is just random half-done scenes in my head that makes no sense or have no context.

So Yeah! That are some original stuff I have written or am trying to write.

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angelfairyqueenheart · 4 months ago

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5th of october 2024, 22:33

i went for a walk today. there were drunken pirates. i drank tea beforehand. then i ate spicy pasta, then i made a hot chocolate with chai latte powder in it. i drank that on the walk. it was windy and dark. i feared the dark a little despite the time of day. i got home at 10 o'clock. i bought a nice bottle of wine on the way back. yellow tail. not the one i like the most though. the wind pierced gently through my fleece.

i like boys. they’re sweet. they make tea and offer it around. i don’t know if i give too much or not enough. am i meant to bleed or am i meant to hide? i guess i bleed either way. i looked at the advent calendars in the posh shop window again. it’s only october. i’m going to send one to my mother this year. she loves the paper ones. the issue is none of them are very biblical, and that’s what she likes. i’ll send her an advent candle too. she likes those. i’ll tell her to remember to burn it. i’ll tell her you have to live your life and use the candle. i tell myself i’m living my life and i think i’m right.

i’m writing and walking and drinking and fucking up and wearing silly clothes and dancing and listening to music but i wonder if i’m spending enough time stopping. i do not want to have a breakdown and yet there’s something so romantic and enticing about the idea. the boy who gives me tea and the boy who is still a virgin find me drunk, self harmed, on the floor of the bathroom. why does it seduce me? the horror and the embarrassment of the girl who bakes for them collapsing in their shared dirty bathroom with a shower that has terrible water pressure. i would hate the consequences. i used to fantasize about dirty things. i used to send videos of me touching myself to dirty men on the internet. i didn’t have any support then but i do now. i’m too scared to ask for their help and i don’t think they could give me anything anyway. they have no knowledge of what i’d need help with and frankly i don’t actually need their help. that’s the root of it. i can’t be bothered to put the effort in to be healthy. i know how to be healthy. i could be good at it. if i could only convince myself it’s as pretty as wine and pain. pain isn’t pretty. that’s my whole worldview. i’ll be kind and sweet to anyone i can because rudeness is ugly unless its warranted. being mean isn’t right. or good. i make myself lonely with it, i think.

i say i want to write a book but i think i already have, several times over. if only i could remember the plots. i hope all my stories say “yes everyone is worth loving”. i hope i’m a good writer. i hope i learn lots. i hope it’s the kind of stories my mother could read. or at least my sister. i hope it’s gentle. i hope it’s grunge. whatever that means. i hope i produce a long line of dreamers. i hope i’m a good mother. my best friend got engaged last night. ENGAGED. we’re 20. it’s 2024. i'm worried.

i’m worried she’s engaged because of her partner's legal issues. i hope i hope to fucking god that it’s right for her. i hope to all heaven and hell that she makes it and it doesn’t crash and burn either next month or in 10 years time. i hope she’s safe. she said they’ve been arguing. she’s been back with him in romania for 4? 5? days. and they’ve been arguing badly and now they’re engaged. she might never come back the UK. i hope i can go to the wedding. i need to i love her. i miss her. she’s incredible. ugh silly girl!!!!!!! what are we doing. wake up my love. why do you have to bind yourself to this silly man who can make you happy or sad with a wave of his finger and an unsaid word. this wine tastes a little of cinnamon. i like it. yellow tail merlot.

there’s a lot of darkness in my head right now. not necessarily heaviness. just darkness. death, wine, don’t sleep, body hurts, fuck me fuck me fuck me, vodka, not enough food (i’m fixing that one don’t worry, call me three meals a day martha), don’t smile in the conversation, don’t even listen, put those headphones on and don’t take a seat at the table. that isn’t me and it’s also exactly what i am. i am made of softness and scarred skin. scars can be lots of different textures. i am going to make and make and make until i have nothing left to say and then i will bleed out onto the paper and the fabric and soak it all with the words i have no way to express. watch me. dare me. do you want to see everything inside? it isn’t as harsh as i make it sound but it’s intense and it doesn’t stop being intense no matter what i do. i burst every waking second of every day and when i sleep i make morning martha wince. i miss my best friend. i miss my other best friend. i miss the innocent pain of school and i wish i could go back to the simplicity and i know that dearest future martha will dare to say the exact same thing about my right now. so i soak up the right now. i will soak and write and listen and love and make and drink while it is my right and freedom to do so.

my rib hurts. we played irish snap in a pub last night and i was far down the table and had to lean over to play and my right rib got bashed and bashed over and over again. my left arm rested on the hard back of the chair. i wasn’t myself in my words but i was in my actions. maybe i am always myself.

josie (my beloved sweetheart flatmate) is hosting a roast tomorrow. she’s cooking lamb and gammon and potatoes and carrots and tasha (another sweetheart hot girl) is probably bringing cauliflower cheese which i’m not a massive fan of but i’ll do anything she tells me (if only you could see her - she just… IS) so i will be eating that.

I AM MORE MYSELF THAN EVER. I AM SAFER THAN EVER. I AM HAPPIER THAN EVER. i trust myself. i will not let myself fall of the face of the earth. nothing drastic will set me apart from my path. nothing minor will either, unless i want a side quest.

someone teach me to write characters. someone teach me to write. i am someone and i will learn the fuck out of everything there is to learn.

THIS WINE IS DELICIOUS!!!! I AM WORTH THE EXTRA £2 IT COST ME!!!! I AM FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

maybe i don’t need to be fucked maybe i just need to write. no never mind.

my rib hurts.

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openingpandorasbox1 · 7 months ago

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AUTUMN PART 1 (9)

I was watching The Project on Channel 10 and they had this bizarre news story about how people were eating a type of mushroom and dying from it, I wrote under a post about it “be careful of mushrooms people”. Some of my FB friends commented back about it and I replied, “Was that drug popular in the 80s?” and Jack became aggressive and wrote in capital letters, ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP IF YOU FUCKING DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU RE TALKING ABOUT YOU FUCKING IDIOT”. One Facebook friend said he was being rude and another said he was being aggressive and abusive. Another Facebook friend PM messaged me and wrote, “I know he is your friend but the way he is speaking to you is unacceptable. I’m worried about you with this person” and she told me that, “all the signs are there”. I was going to delete Jack as a friend at that time but I was problems at home, and he was the last thing on my mind. I knew what Autumn told me about him, so he was just living up to his reputation.

The Office (US) is one of my favourite shows of all-time and I just love it. I was watching the episode when Michael Scott left. This was the first time I had seen it. I was nearly in tears watching Michael Scott leaving and I wrote about it on my FB wall. A few people commented and agreed with me. Autumn had this Facebook friend from Canada who was also on my Facebook friends list and he was a cat lover and I’m a cat lover and we have that in common. Even though I had just watched the episode of Michael Scott leaving, I was a bit behind and he had seen the new episodes that Michael Scott was no longer in (the new season). He commented on the new episodes and Jack wrote to him, “THAT IS BECAUSE YOU’RE JUST A KNOB”. I wrote, “Don’t talk to people like that” and he wrote and said, “You’re an idiot and stupid”. Jack called me a bogan once because I was living in Emu Plains, and my friend told me to give him a piece of his own medicine, so I said, ‘You’re acting like a bogan’ and he called me a ‘bitch’ and then disappeared, and me and my friend laughed because he couldn’t take it back. These events took place at similar time frame, which is why I hadn’t deleted him at this point, but I was warming to it. But my mum’s poor internet service only gave me a small time frame to be able to do what I wanted to do online and jump off again. I didn’t want to waste that small time frame on Jack. I got hobbies and stuff.

It was a day or so after this that Jack went out drinking in Sydney and I knew this because he was posting about it on his Facebook feed for most of the day. I assumed that night that Autumn had been interacting with Jack because that afternoon/early night time they both started trolling on my Facebook feed. They must have been chatting on Skype because Jack took a photo of Autumn on Skype flipping the bird and he posted it onto his wall and tagged me on it for me to see. They also wrote all these comments on my Facebook wall, mainly calling me fat and ugly. I wasn’t fat at this time, I was around 40 to 45kg which isn’t fat and I was skinnier than the both of them. Whether I am ugly or not is debatable but I know they weren’t going to win any beauty competitions. Usually when people insult me or want to put me down they usually go straight to the way I look because that’s all they have over me. Common insults from common people.

It was only recently that I had been watching The Block (an Australian renovation TV program) when one of the girls on the show said something like, ‘Dibby dibby dobber” which I found funny and I wrote that on my Facebook wall and my Facebook friends from Australia knew what I was talking about because The Block was popular. They just laughed under the comment and no one was offended. However when Jack and Autumn was trolling on my wall, Jack was writing DIBBY DIBBY DOBBER all over my wall. I didn’t really let anything they wrote on my wall get to me because it was just some silly quote from a reality TV show. Jack was doing most of the criticizing on my wall but he was probably so drunk and full of drugs he didn’t know what he was doing and probably didn’t care. He also wrote, MY SISTER IS SO SWEET, which is something I said about Autumn on her birthday. I guess they couldn’t find anything negative to slander me about so they were just talking shit.

I didn’t even bother replying back to them. I just thought, “fuck this” and just blocked them. I haven’t heard from them since.

There were people online who did notice Autumns photo and Jack’s trolling and some of my friends wrote … “Rude” and other comments similar.

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jiminscockr1ng · 11 months ago

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✧ ﾟ.jiminscockr1ng ‘s faq page. ﾟ✧

𐐪𐑂 this page is for any questions you may have regarding this blog, myself, and / or my writing. if you have any other questions that are not listed below, feel free ask me anything here!

ೃ༄ blog map & quick links

check the navigation page for more quick links !

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i’m almost always active, my phone being glued to my hip. if i don’t respond to you within 72 hours i’m most likely dead. /j

.ೃwho is jiminscockr1ng?࿐

just a random, silly little girl who stans a silly group of korean men. if you want to know a bit more about jiminscockr1ng (me), you can click on the link above (underneath ‘blog map & quick links’)— titled: ‘about me’.

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yes, to the best of my ability. usually i hold myself to a schedule in my head to which i attempt to organize on my schedule page. you can click the link above (underneath ‘blog map & quick links’)— titled: ‘schedule’.

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not yet. i intend to start uploading the one-shots / short stories i post on tumblr, onto my wattpad account soon. i’ll be sure to update this once i begin cross-posting. however, you can access my wattpad account on the navigation page that is linked at the top of the page (underneath ‘blog map & quick links’).

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i do not. all of my fan fictions / imagines are written for black!readers. non-black readers are absolutely allowed to read and leave feedback as well! however, all pairings will always be bts x black! reader. (whether female or nonbinary.)

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thatgirlexists · 1 year ago

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that girl

I've always wanted to write a memoir.

Up to this day, I still don't understand this fascination I have for memoirs and for writing one of my own. Like why do I have this need to share parts of my life when most of it is shitty? And why am I trying to be funny? For the past few months, all I've shared on the internet is my creeping depression and the silly monsters that are my dogs.

But I do have stories, lots of them go way back and are the very reason why I am this mess of a lady, a pretentious lady. I've always been very careful about the things I say, and the things I share because I pretend to be someone with a reputation to spare. But, not really. Maybe I am a people pleaser like we all are, but I'm just more inclined to the pathological side. Why do we do that? I don't know. Maybe I should go back to therapy and cry about this.

The first story I wanted to tell is why am I starting this.

It's not that I've not written a blog before nor I have not shared a fragment of my memory on the internet, it's just that I've been really careful. I've written a lot about my depression, the causes and effects, my traumas, my inability to have a child, the mundane things, and the howevers and what-ifs. But if you read my first blog, While I'm Not Dead, I've written most of these things in metaphors; not just because I see the beauty in the wordplay, I just cannot spell out "I am fucking depressed" or "I do not have a terrific childhood". I am fucked up in a sense that I want to tell you all of this but I gotta let you think about what I'm talking about.

I also started reading some memoirs, I am heavily inspired by Jenny Lawson. I find her sardonically funny and I also realized how I am supportive of mortifying myself because it kind of helps in a sensical non-sensical way. I won't say don't get me wrong but I somehow feel like this is not a defense mechanism, it is somewhat therapeutic to me. When I talk about how I feel like a rat but kind of like living that way, there will be:

1. People that will shrug it off and think I'm funny

2. People who will find it absurd then shrug it off

3. Type 1 people who will say I should go back to therapy

4. Type 2 people who will say I should go back to therapy

5. People will think that this is the effect of being around my dogs

But really, I feel like a rat and also I am comfortable living this way until my depression and anxiety scream at me at midnight that I am useless and that it should faze me.

I've always wanted to be a writer not because I can write, but only because I have a lot of stories to tell but because I am not really good at speaking. I can say a straight sentence to a complete stranger better than answering my colleagues at work or having a conversation with my in-laws. I am wired weirdly, I guess, and I don't like being judged. I think I am a weird rat but this rat is also great; I just don't know how to start doing great things.

Last week I heard that someone I knew died. We were pretty close when we were children. It feels weird admitting that I was really affected by her death when we grew apart through the years but for the past week, there was not a day that I didn't think about her. She was great, a promising young woman. But why did she was taken from this world too soon? Why her when there are millions of rats like me? And it is also weird to say that at least she did great things before she was gone because why end it too soon when she can do more?

It got me thinking that the comfort of being content causes my discomfort. Maybe I really want to be at great heights, I am just afraid of climbing because I do not want to fall. Maybe I really want to reach a new island, but I am not paddling, I just float in my canoe. The idea of dying young is never a foreign idea to me but I am past of wanting that. What if I can do more? Will I wait to get old? Will I just let my dreams die? All because I think I am wired differently?

While I was still cruising on the boulevard of possibilities, that girl I once knew stopped at the intersection too soon. It made me realize a lot of things...

To start, maybe this rat needs to get out of her hole more.

Finally finished reading this yesterday, I didn't expected that towards the end, the story behind the cover will be revealed. What a rat.

#blog

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delta-queerdrant · 2 years ago

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banjos in space (Caretaker, s1 e1/2)

Prologue

A nice pickle we have landed ourselves into, Mr. Frodo! The internet informs me that there are 172 episodes of Star Trek Voyager. I am, in fact, capable of finishing things; just recently, I reread Middlemarch like an absolute fucking boss. I have written novels and completed thousand-mile road trips. Let us choose to believe that this project that I have quixotically set myself, for an audience of, approximately, no one, will be a successful one.

I will not be summarizing episodes. I expect these reviews to be 80% sentiment and 20% analyzing story mechanics. To crib a line from a podcast I like, this is a feelings blog about starships.

The prose will be more or less silly and stream-of-consciousness as the mood takes me. Despite being a Digital Native(tm), I have literally never figured out the trick of talking like I live on the internet, instead I alternate between sounding like Angela Chase writing in her diary and like a college professor who is prone to multisyllabic words, malapropisms, and deducting points for misplaced commas.

Hmm, I seem to be stalling.

Let’s Talk About Caretaker

I started watching Voyager midway through the series’ original run, so my fondness for these episodes is less weighted down with early adolescent emotion. Nevertheless, I was charmed.

Caretaker is just shy of being a banger pilot episode, and the whole first season is pretty strong if you compare it to, say, season one of TNG. (It’s a low bar.) We meet our two crews, we have a lively science fiction mystery that feels extremely Star Trek with its gentle horror-adjacent tropes and insistence on making the cultural referents of the twentieth-century US central to this multi-species science fiction universe. If nothing else, it’s a romp.

The worst thing about this episode, hands down, is Tom Paris, our bad boy rapscallion who turns a new leaf under duress. As a young person I received each of these characters in exactly the way I was meant to receive them; i.e. I found Tom Paris to be charming comic relief.

Does he become charming? In this episode I want to punch his face, a lot, and the sentiment holds throughout season one. It is, of course, the nineties, and so the only character with an unmarked identity (straight white male, not an alien or a hologram) is centered in the pilot episode of our ensemble show. In the process, he goes through a season’s worth of character growth in ninety minutes, to the detriment of future episodes.

The fandom was right and he and Harry Kim (whose only attribute here is BABY) have hilariously good chemistry. (”Look, I know those guys told you to stay away from me,” he purrs to Kim during the mess hall follow-up to their meet-cute.) Why do the good girls always want the bad boys? Don’t fall for his rakish charms, Harry, you can do so much better, even if you have only been given half a personality.

We meet the Ocampa, who seem to live in a subterranean shopping mall or perhaps an airport terminal, and the Kazon-Ogla, who are bargain-bin Klingons without the cool factor or (so far) cultural nuance. I do not love an SFF property with “good” and “bad” species, and find Janeway’s pivotal decision to destroy the Caretaker’s array a bit suspect as a result, but it is a Star Trek, but here we are.

Other than Robert Duncan McNeill, who has been given an impossible script, it feels like all of the actors know their assignments out of the gate. There are so many cute as shit platonic friendships in this show; I love B’Elanna and Harry’s rapport (”Starfleet”). Also, Neelix. I am going on the record here to confess that I am probably going to be a Neelix apologist for the duration of this rewatch. He is just a darling hot mess of a space hobbit, and I find Ethan Phillip’s performance weirdly compelling and nuanced. I won’t be papering over his sexism, which should have been handled with more care. But so far he is absolutely the most plausible and lived-in character in this whole ridiculous show.

Kate Mulgrew’s Janeway, of course, is a close contender. She is so fucking good from scene one (walking so fast to keep up with McNeill’s long gait) - just absolutely sparkling with charisma, and with a warm, self-assured carriage that makes her effortless at inhabiting this role. “Confirmed, a hot lady,” my notes read (yes I was taking notes about this rewatch for myself like an absolute nerd).

We don’t get much backstory for her in season one, other than here, where we meet her dry-toast fiance, and much more importantly, MOLLIE. I had forgotten about Mollie, and holy crap, never mind the trauma and pining and muted sexual confusion that will accompany this character on her journey through the Delta Quadrant - SHE LEFT HER DOG BEHIND!?

^^^ ICONIC. Mark can’t even get an arm around her shoulder because Mollie is the cockblocker of our hearts. Love this for all concerned

Anyway. Our characters are thrown together and overcome adversity, Janeway blows up the array, and we get a rushed conclusion and a mission-statement speech that all feel terribly unearned. There’s nothing much to say about the Maquis subplot here, because the show just... doesn’t grapple with it, at least not in the first season. The very premise that our intrepid crew can only operate this starship by adopting the political structure of the dominant majority deserves interrogation, but nah.

We were never going to get a politically radical Voyager. Still, we could have gotten a politically conscious one. It’s a shame, because these actors and even, I dare say, writers were obviously up to the task of having a more nuanced conversation about leadership and workplace politics and whether an ostensibly egalitarian society’s professional adventurer/diplomats can only function under a military command structure.

But we’re at the beginning, and we don’t know any of that yet. Anything could happen! We’re lost in the woods, in the middle of our lives, looking for our way home.

#star trek voyager #rewatch #janeway #star trek #dogs of trek

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years ago

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that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 4

Tristan had slapped his menu shut before you could even sit down. He’d been begging you to try a new place in Encino with him, you figured it was a good excuse to get Zoey out of the house and to let Maeve and CeCe duke it out in Shelli and Irv’s backyard instead of yours.

It was all work talk at first, he offered an update on a meeting you missed to drop off Maeve at a friend’s and Zoey sucked down a glass of wine promising to pump and dump before the night ended.

But now your plates were in front of you and you twirled spaghetti around your fork when she asked: “How’s your pool boy?” You stared up at her, unimpressed.

“He’s not my pool boy, and he’s fine.”

Tristan raised his eyebrows across the table. “Would you let Harry Styles be your pool boy?”

“Can we not talk about him like this, please?”

“Oh come on,” Tristan pulled a face. “If you’re not going to sleep with him at least let us fantasize.”

You must have twitched, a quick glance in Zoey’s direction or a quiver of your lip. Zoey leaned in and her voice was serious. “What was that?”

“What? Nothing.”

“What do you mean what was that?” Tristan asked.

“She made a weird face when you said that.”

“No I didn’t,” you defended. “I just don’t like talking about him in public, especially like this.”

“Bullshit,” Zoey laughed, leaned back in her chair. “What are you not telling us? Did you see him shirtless again?”

You let out a breath, wiped at your mouth and wondered if telling them would be the biggest mistake of your life. You couldn’t even get the words out before Zoey leaned in.

“You had sex with him?!” her eyes nearly bugged out of her head, Tristan’s fork clanked against his plate when his jaw dropped open.

You’d made it a whole week, almost. You pushed the thoughts down and brushed them under the metaphorical work rug. The body wash prototypes were in, you were booking models to do a photoshoot, video shoot, everything was getting lined up for the rollout in another few weeks. You didn’t have time to tell them about something silly and stupid and maybe a part of you didn’t want to fill them in because you were afraid they’d burst your bubble. It’ll never work out, what happens when his house is ready, he has a tour to go on.

“Be quiet,” you looked around and worried if anyone had overheard Tristan’s not-so-subtle name drop. “It’s not a big deal, okay? It’s not like it’s gonna be a regular thing.”

Tristan pulled his head back, offended by your words. “You had sex with him and you’re not going to make that a regular thing? Have you seen him?”

“Yes,” you made a face at Tristan. “I have seen him.”

“You are going to hit and quit Harry Styles?” Zoey leaned in and said his name much more quietly now.

“Well,” you dropped their gaze for a second, reluctant to be honest with them in fear of their reaction. “It’s happened once, and then we kissed once but CeCe came down, but she didn’t see anything. I’m just too old to be hooking up with a twenty-four year old.”

“Wait, okay, slow down. When did this happen?” Zoey asked.

“After my birthday dinner,” you shrugged. “We came home, had wine, the girls were out.”

“And when did you make out with him aside from that night?”

“The next night. And we didn’t make out, it was barely even open-mouthed.”

“Ew,” Tristan grimaced.

Zoey snapped to get your attention. “So twenty-four hours after you had sex, you kissed him?”

You made a face at her, unsure where she was going with it. You hadn’t been clocking or documenting your sexual encounters. “I don’t know, probably.”

“This is straight out of a trashy romance book written for middle aged women,” Tristan leaned back in his seat and took a pull from his glass of rosé. “I mean that in, like, a nice way.”

“Okay,” Zoey leaned forward. “So, nothing has happened since a week ago, then?”

“No,” you shook your head quickly. “Just those times. And I don’t think anything should happen again.”

They both groaned at the same time, Zoey’s shoulders sunk and she rolled her eyes. “You deserve to have sex with a hot guy.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“Even if he’s younger than you.”

“I don’t want to traumatize my children.”

“Well you don’t have to have sex in front of them,” Tristan made a goofy face and you waved him off.

Zoey snorted out a laugh but you ignored their immaturity.

“I mean that having Harry here is already probably confusing for them, right? Their dad leaves, their grandpa dies, now we have some stranger in our house and he’s playing with them in the backyard and--”

“Being more of a dad to them than Luke ever was?”

Zoey’s words brought a sigh out from between your lips. “Exactly.”

“Having a positive male role model is good for them,” Tristan said.

“Sure,” you nodded. “But what about when Harry moves out? He’ll just be another man that will leave them. They’ll be super fucked up.”

Tristan reached forward and took your hand in his. “Hey--it’s more about the fact that they have you and they have other people who love them. Who cares if their idea of a family isn’t the stereotypic, heterosexual norm?”

“I know,” you relented. “I just don’t want them to be poorly adjusted.”

“Okay, that sounds like something an obnoxious prep school guidance counselor would say to you,” Zoey eyed you with skepticism.

You shrugged your shoulders. “It was Maeve’s teacher.”

“Okay, fuck that teacher!” Tristan nodded. “Your kids are adjusting, and that’s because of how good of a mom you are to them. And mommy deserves a pool boy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even if his words were worthy of an eye-roll. Zoey tried not to let wine drip from her nose after a snort escaped between sips.

“Not my pool boy!” You giggled.

“Which is good,” Tristan nodded, his tone completely serious. “That would be so cliché even Nora Roberts wouldn’t write it.”

Slumber parties always made you anxious. They were one of those things that made you question how on earth people trusted you to watch a group of children when sometimes, you still felt like one yourself.

Maeve’s 11th birthday party was no exception. Five other girls danced around your living room and CeCe sat at the counter while you iced cupcakes. Her little face was scrunched into a pout so intensely that it almost made you giggle.

“You alright?” You asked her, dish towel over your shoulder when she let out another sigh.

“Just wish I could play with them,” she held her palms towards the sky in exasperation, reaching for a container of sprinkles when you let out a laugh.

“You get to go for ice cream with Uncle Jeff, remember? You’re gonna go to the beach, too, I think.”

You’d been trying to bribe her all week: a new tutu, a new doll, anything she wanted just to make her give up and accept the fact that her older sister didn’t want her at her slumber party.

And you couldn’t blame either of them. Of course Maeve didn’t want her younger (and very loud, dramatic, and demanding) younger sister trailing behind all night. But, on the other hand, of course CeCe felt left out when she saw all of the older girls arrive with their sleeping bags and birthday gifts.

She sighed again, your conversation interrupted by a ringing from your cell phone on the counter beside her.

“Uncle Jeff?”

She was right, you reached for the phone and held it up with your shoulder, hoping the laughter from the living room wouldn’t travel it’s way into the speaker.

“Hi--are you here?”

“Y/N, I am so sorry to do this--”

“Oh god, Jeff, no!”

“I just got called into the office because one of my artists apparently just posted some stupid shit on the internet--isn’t there someone else who can hang out with CeCe? Where’s Tristan?”

“I don’t know where he is, but I doubt he’d be thrilled to play dress up or skip through a park.”

“Zoey?”

You could hear traffic through his line, his karma for backing out at the last minute was having to sit on the 405. “She has a ten-week-old infant, Jeffrey.”

“Well where’s Harry? Can’t he pitch in?”

You let out a groan, CeCe had taken to pouring sprinkles into her hand and lapping them up with her tongue.

Harry was upstairs, hiding away from the girl gang currently singing karaoke and sipping on juice boxes. He had the day off and had dipped out in the afternoon to meet a friend for lunch. You tried to mind your own business--he could come and go as he pleased and just because you had slept with him once didn’t give you the right to suddenly start asking questions about his plans.

But the universe pitied you, apparently, because right when you told Jeff you’d figure it out and hung up on him aggressively, Harry pranced down the stairs and headed for the fridge.

“How’s it going down here?” He reached for a juice box, crisp apple, and fumbled with the straw when he turned to face you.

“Everyone is alive and nothing is broken,” you scanned the counter, another batch of cupcakes still in the oven with 10 minutes to go.

With the straw now between his lips, he raised his eyebrows. “Bar’s that low, huh?”

“Well, your friend Jeffrey just bailed on watching CeCe and going for ice cream.”

She was blissfully unaware of the change of plans, still licking sprinkles out of her palm, but now swiveled around on the stool to watch the girls jump around in the other room.

“I can take her,” he shrugged nonchalantly, ran a hand through his hair when you stared at him for a second.

If traffic was Jeff’s karma, Harry must have been yours.

“Are you serious? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he smiled. “CeCe? What do you say we do ice cream and pizza?”

She turned around at the sound of her name, her eyes lit up. “Pepperoni?” She asked.

“Of course,” Harry replied to her like it was a crazy question.

“Is Uncle Jeff coming?”

“He’s not,” You informed her, arms crossed over your chest. “You’re alright to go with Harry?”

You didn’t mean to make it awkward, but mom mode kicked in and you realized CeCe had never spent time alone with Harry except maybe in the backyard.

“Yeah!” She hopped down from the stool and grinned up at him. “Can I get a milkshake?”

Harry looked over to you and when you nodded, he held out his hand. “As many as you want.”

“That’s not what I said,” you called after him, watching as he led her over to the back door. He plucked his keys off the hook on the wall and smiled at you over his shoulder. “Please don’t be out late, text me when you get where you’re going!”

CeCe shouted a bye mommy!!!! before they disappeared into the driveway. A sudden raise in your pulse had you questioning what type of mother lets their 6-year-old get in the car with a pop star who’s probably hounded by paparazzi and maybe even doing cocaine on the weekends.

You picked up your phone and it rang four times before Zoey answered. “I need you to talk me off the ledge.”

“What ledge?”

The timer beeped and you gloved up to retrieve the rest of the cupcakes. “I’m apparently a psychopath because I just let Harry take CeCe for pizza and ice cream.”

You could tell she held back a laugh. “Why does that make you a psychopath?”

“Because he’s a stranger! What if he never comes back with her? What if he gets chased by paparazzi and CeCe is the next Princess Diana?!” The thought shuttered through your bones, a shiver down your spine when Zoey cleared her throat.

“Okay, so, as a mom, I totally get that. But I also think you’re freaking out too much.”

The cupcake tin rattled onto the granite. “How?!”

“He’s not a stranger, he’s been living with you guys for like, over a month now.”

You thought about it for a second. Two weeks turned into a few more, four weeks slipped by easily. What felt like it was going to be a blip on the radar now felt like a totally normal thing: dinners with him as the fourth seat and texts to him in the middle of the day asking if there was anything he was in the mood for.

“I just can’t believe I trust him enough to do that, I guess.”

“Y/N, he’s a good guy,” she laughed. “He likes your kids and he definitely likes you.”

“We’re not going there,” you said. “I have a house full of ten-year-olds and cupcakes to frost.”

“Okay, well, you’re not a psychopath. And there’s nothing wrong with having feelings for him.”

“Zoey! You are starting to sound like the psychopath!”

“I’m alright with that,” laughter through the phone when you told her you had to go. Love you, see you later, pinch Benny’s cheeks for me.

You were swept up in the excitement of the night. Your own pizza was delivered before 8pm, a movie turned on by 9pm. They decorated cupcakes at the dining room table and proceeded to eat more than they could fit in their tummies.

Maeve was in heaven, opened presents when you snapped pictures on your phone. Harry had texted to let you know they’d stop at Shelli and Irv’s before heading home. If CeCe came home in the middle of presents, she’d probably break down right there.

So when you heard the alarm signal a new entry, you hoped CeCe was too tired to argue with you about sleeping in her own room and not in Maeve’s with the rest of them. Your legs were folded beneath you on the couch, noise in the kitchen when Harry rounded the corner with CeCe asleep on his shoulder.

You stood up, eyebrows high when he smirked in your direction. “She’s out cold,” he laughed. “Fell right asleep on the way home.”

“It’s like a ten minute drive from their house,” you said, opening your arms to take her. “Sorry, here.”

“I can bring her up...just lead the way,” he motioned with his head for you to go first up the stairs. He followed you down the hall and to CeCe’s room, pink walls and a plush carpet underneath her twin-sized bed that still seemed too big for her.

He put her down when you flipped on a nightlight, watched when you tugged the duvet over her and kissed her on the forehead. You sighed when you stood up straight beside him, voice quiet. “I’m not waking her up to brush her teeth cause she’ll freak out and want to be included in the party. Am I a bad mom?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, smirked down at you quickly before looking back to her. “You’re a great mom.”

You elbowed him in the ribs playfully. “You have to say that.”

“I do?”

“I’m your landlord,” you laughed, leading him back into the hallway.

“I thought you were my friend?”

A sigh, the darkness a cover for your confusion and your fluttering heart beat. “Yeah, that too.”

He was quiet for a second, if it weren’t for the bedroom of kids down the hall you’d pull him into you despite better judgment. He stared down at you with a dimpled smile, but you took a step back.

“Thanks for taking her, and hanging out with her. You really didn’t have to.”

“I had fun,” he reassured you. “We got a pizza and ate in a park near Westwood Hills, then got ice cream, visited with Shelli and Irv,” he listed it off like it brought him as much joy as it did her.

“Hey, not to be weird or anything, but--how’s your house coming?”

He sensed the shift in the air too, but he didn’t know that it came from a place of fear. A question you had to ask: this was temporary, this wasn’t real, this was just a convenient set up and you couldn’t lose sight of that.

“Oh, yeah--I’m going over on Sunday to see it. Apparently there are still issues with the plumbing that have to be updated. They said it might be a few more weeks.”

“Okay, I just didn’t know.”

“Yeah, is that okay? I can try to find somewhere to stay if you need me out?”

“No,” you said it quickly. “I don’t need you to leave.”

“Okay,” he said, his eyes still on yours. He reached forward to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “I like staying here with you guys.”

“...I like it too.”

“Mom?” Maeve’s head poked out of her bedroom. “Hayley spilled soda on the carpet!”

He stepped back from you quickly, like his reflexes were getting better each time. You laughed at his sudden movement, “coming!”

He smiled down at you and let out an exaggerated sigh once Maeve’s door was slammed shut and the music was back on, a magnetic pull between your chests that maybe he felt too. “Hayley, Hayley, Hayley.”

But again, a rush of uncertainty and self-doubt made you grateful for the interruption, your stomach weaving itself in knots when you stared at your ceiling fan and hoped that sleep would come.

Work picked up in the next week, Tristan was in your office most days with spreadsheets and graphs and to-do lists that made you feel like you needed a margarita at 2pm. On Wednesday Harry made dinner and CeCe had a meltdown when you forced her to take a bath.

Friday night entailed dinner at Shelli and Irv’s, the girls and Harry and Jeff too. You stood in the kitchen with a glass of wine in hand, Shelli watched as their chef sautéed something through steam. When Jeff pulled Harry away to show him a new guitar Irv had been gifted, you ignored the smile on Shelli’s face.

“How are things going?”

“Fine,” you said, casually and calm and cool. “How are you?”

“Y/N,” she smiled. “Does Jeffrey know?”

“Know what?”

“About you and Harry?”

“No,” you told her quickly. “There’s nothing to know, alright? We were drunk, it was not a big deal.”

“Alright,” she held up a hand, effectively resigning when she sipped her Pinot Grigio, a disappointed sigh before she asked: “How are the girls holding up?”

You sighed, unsure if she’d really drop it. You told her about Maeve’s birthday party and caught her up on the body wash debut. Deadlines were quickly approaching, the launch party was being scheduled and production was full steam ahead.

You almost thought you’d make it through the rest of the night without any drama--no more mention of Harry or the happenings between you. But eventually he and Jeff found their way back to the kitchen and you hoped that no one noticed how close Harry stood to you.

Jeff was in the middle of filling you and Shelli in on Harry’s album plans: they were wrapping up production and soon they’d announce the release date, his excitement cut off by a shout from the backyard.

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice was shrill and desperate as it rang through the house. She let out a loud sob and when you looked up, you saw her clutching her elbow with a new grass stain on her shirt. She was fine, it was one of those moments where she thought the world was ending but everyone else knew getting knocked over by her sister wouldn’t kill her.

“She’s fine,” Maeve rolled her eyes, a quick look down to CeCe who’s eyes were already filled with tears.

“No I’m not!” she screamed back at her sister.

You looked to Shelli with an exasperated look, set your glass of wine down on the counter. Before you could make any movement, though, Harry’s hand hovered on the small of your back. “I’ll go, enjoy the wine. She’s fine.”

He was right, there was no question that CeCe would survive her scraped elbow and bruised ego. He moved towards the backyard and you were frozen in place when Jeff’s forehead wrinkled.

“What was that?” he asked, eyebrows strung together like tea lights once Harry was out of earshot.

“I don’t know--what do you mean?”

You looked over at Harry, now on the ground in front of CeCe who’s wails were much quieter. She wiped at her wet eyes, a little laugh escaped her lips when Harry brushed the grass off of her elbow and cracked a joke.

“Well, he seems pretty good with them,” Jeff leaned against the counter, the sliding door providing a perfect view as CeCe stood up and raced back towards Maeve.

“Yeah, I mean, he is.”

“He also touched your back in a funny way.”

Shelli raised her eyebrows and sipped at her wine again.

“And now my mom is making a weird face,” Jeff’s eyes narrowed when he looked at you. “Are you--is there, like, something going--”

“No,” you said quickly, a finger pointed at Shelli and another pointed at Jeff. “Do not say anything in front of the girls.”

Shelli stifled a laugh but managed to look incredibly innocent at the same time.

“Oh my god!” Jeff said this with a noise of shock, eyes wide when he looked between you and Shelli, then back out to the yard where Harry laughed with Irv. “Oh my god, and you knew?”

Shelli shrugged her shoulders, a don’t blame me look crossed her face when you took a swig of wine to calm the pounding of your heart.

Jeff had always been protective and caring and like a brother. Not in a weird way, not in the you can’t date my friends way. Just in the sense that he wanted to know who you were hooking up with and he’d been encouraging you relentlessly to stop picking assholes ever since you filed for divorce.

But this was different, this was a friend of his and a client of his. It was someone that his entire family knew and this was probably the worst choice of rebound.

“Please relax,” you said this with a look of warning in his direction. “I will explain to you what your lunatic mother is smirking about but you have about fifteen seconds to wipe the look of shock off your face before he comes back in here.”

“She’s fine,” Harry waved a hand once he was back in the kitchen. “And what look of shock are we wiping off of our faces?” The dimple was there again, the corner of his mouth pulled up and he scanned all three of you for any sort of information.

“Just that you are so good with the girls,” Jeff covered for you, a confident nod when he hoped Harry would believe him.

“That’s surprising to you?” Harry pulled his head back, an obvious look of mock offense. “I’m great with children. They love me.”

Maeve came in from the fading light, out of breath from running around with whatever ball they’d gotten their hands on. “Who loves you?”

“Kids,” Jeff replied for him.

“Oh,” Maeve said. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” You looked down at her, unsure if she was agreeing or just voicing that she understood.

She shrugged, plucked a chicken skewer from a dish in front of Shelli. “I mean, I like having him around.”

Harry was practically tickled pink. “Thank you, Maeve.” He turned to rub this in Jeff’s face. “See?”

“He cooks well, plays outside with us, definitely funnier than mom,” Maeve kept listing things off, pulling laughter from the rest of the crew.

“Maeve!” You whined. “I’m funny!”

“You’re like, sometimes funny.”

“Sometimes funny is better than never funny,” Harry nodded in your direction, an attempt to soften the blow.

CeCe had wandered in behind her sister, she picked at the scrape on her elbow until you called her attention. “CeCe--do you think mommy’s funny?”

“Mmmm,” the thought on it for a second, put her finger to her chin and scrunched up her nose. “Sort of.”

Jeff let out a big laugh at that, Harry tried to stifle one and you dismissed the jabs. “Okay, well, it’s not like anyone here is a comedian.”

“Harry’s funny,” CeCe said with a smile. “He reads books in silly voices.”

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up at that again, amused and surprised by the fact that Harry was in on the bedtime routine. But it was infrequent, sometimes CeCe would beg for more time outside or another thirty minutes of TV.

If the tears got aggressive or the tantrum became too much, she perked up pretty quickly if Harry offered to read with her. It was way more exciting than reading with you, Maeve had explained.

After showering Harry with compliments, the girls were excited to sit on Shelli and Irv’s patio. Pink lemonade and a delicious dinner, though neither of them would even so much as take a bit of your salad.

They ran around some more while you sipped wine, Jeff and Harry had been talked into a two versus two soccer match and Irv laughed his head off when Maeve actually scored on Jeff. Darkness came and CeCe crawled into your lap, eyelids getting heavy until you buckled her into the backseat.

You’d taken one car, CeCe’s booster seat was too clunky to move over to Harry’s so you drove and felt slightly embarrassed about the crayons and coloring books scattered on the floor of the backseat.

“Mom, can I have another sleepover this weekend?”

“With who?”

“All of the girls from last weekend.”

“Honey, no, that was a big party for your birthday.”

“I’m aware,” she shot back quickly. “But we all had so much fun and we wouldn’t be as loud as we were last time.”

“I said no, Maeve. You can do something with your friends if you want but we’re not doing another sleepover right now.”

You’d been hesitant about it in the first place. A group of ten and eleven-year-olds? With Harry in the house? It felt like a recipe for disaster and aside from a few excited stares when they were first dropped off, you all escaped relatively unscathed.

You worried at first about the whispers from other moms--she’s letting a twenty-four year-old live with her children?--but you soon realized that they were almost more excited about sneaking a glimpse of Harry than their daughters were.

“You’re so annoying,” she quipped from the back. “You never let me do anything fun.”

Harry’s lips twitched up in a tiny smirk, a sideways glance in your direction. You’d already told him how awkward it felt to discipline them with him right there, a glass of wine in the kitchen one night and he teased you about your frustrated mom voice.

“Maeve--don’t be rude. You just had a birthday party and now you want another, basically.”

“No, I want to have the same girls over. It’s not my birthday so it’s not a birthday party.”

A left turn into the driveway. “But you want me to order pizza and make cupcakes and you want to drink a bunch of soda again?”

“Yes.”

You pulled into the garage and cut the engine, turning to look at her. “Maeve, sweetie, I love you. But no.”

She let out a huff and shoved the door open, she typed in the entry code and slammed the door to the house before the rest of you could even climb out.

“The drama,” CeCe shook her head, tired steps towards the house.

“The drama is right,” you told her with a laugh. “Go wash up and I’ll come up in a few, okay?”

She scampered up the steps, you dropped your keys on the counter inside and then turned to look at him. “Do you have a second?”

He nodded, leaned on the counter. “What’s up?”

You didn't know if it was a good idea, but you'd spent enough morning drives to school lecturing about how honest is the best policy, so you figured you'd give it a shot.

“Uh, well--Jeff may or may not be suspicious about you and...me.”

Using the phrase made you nervous, like he’d laugh and think it was stupid. You and me.

“Oh,” he said, eyebrows arched. “Did you--why did that come up?”

“Well you went to handle my crying child, which is--you know--”

He laughed a little, “too boyfriendy of me?”

Your heartbeat picked up in pace, your face felt hot and it suddenly felt like he was watching you too closely.

“No--I don’t know--you touched my back and he just asked what was happening.”

He deflated at that, hung his head low for a second and then looked up. “Oh, I--uh--I’m really sorry, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” You felt bad, that wasn’t the message you were trying to convey. If anything, you wanted to give him the out and the okay that he didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to step into your family like some hero for you or your daughters. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, I just--I don’t know where you are at, I guess.”

“And now Jeff is asking questions,” he laughed, a nod like he knew where you were going with it.

There was no label necessary. It wasn’t that type of thing, you knew that. “That’s what you walked in on after CeCe got hurt.”

Another nod, like the puzzle pieces were fitting into place. “Right. Got it. Was he--how did he seem? Did you tell him that we--”

“He put it together,” you cut him off, again careful of the words used around the girls even though they were upstairs and--by the sound of it--bickering in the bathroom. “But he was fine with it. I just think we need to be careful, you know. The girls...and this is temporary, and--”

“Absolutely.”

“So, you know, just--”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence. “I should go tuck them in.” You turned on your feet and headed for the stairs before he could reply, desperate to get out of the situation out of fear of having to find more words to string together in a messy jumble of emotions.

Another slammed door from Maeve when you reached the top of the stairs. You knocked twice. “Can I come in, please?”

“No!”

“Maeve,” you leaned against the doorframe. Harry came up and offered an awkward smile. “Please let me talk to you.”

“I’m not talking to you!” She shouted.

Harry came over and knocked. “Maeve? It’s Harry--can I come in?”

Silence for a second, her footsteps were audible on the wood floor. The door opened a crack, she peered out with narrowed eyes. “Fine--but not her.”

You looked over at Harry, unsure of his game plan but also fed up with the theatrics and the overreaction. He shrugged his shoulders half-apologetically, a smirk in your direction before he slipped into the room.

Did you stay and listen? Was it weird? What would he even say to her?

You decided against it, headed for your own bedroom and tugged on pajamas after you flicked on CeCe’s night light and kissed her goodnight. At least only one of them was being dramatic today.

Five minutes passed, then ten. You tried not to look at the clock and focused instead on a book Zoey had told you was a must read.

Eventually there was a knock on your door, Harry pushed it open and smiled. “Do you want some intel?”

“Duh,” you said. “Come in.”

He walked forward and sat on your bed, a sigh when he brought his eyes to yours again. “Well, she said you’re annoying again.”

“Of course.”

“She’s just grumpy. Said Hayley wanted to have a sleepover this weekend because it would be better at her house.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “Some 5th grade rivalry.”

“Classic, really.”

You laughed. “Was she okay talking to you?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, eyebrows low on his forehead. “Opened right up.”

“Well, we do know she likes you more.”

He rolled his eyes. “She just likes that I’m not you.”

“Feels like that’s the same thing.”

Quiet for a moment when he angled towards you, scanned your face with his eyes.

“I guess I’ll go say goodnight.”

“Oh, I tucked her in.”

Your mouth tugged into a smirk. “You what?”

“She said she didn’t want you to come in.”

“So you tucked her in?”

He let out a laugh, explained the process like it should have been obvious. “Yeah--pulled up the blanket. Patted her on the head. She said she brushed her teeth.”

You leaned back against the headboard, the same buzzing feeling in your chest took flight when he asked: “why is it so shocking to everyone that I’m good with them?”

It slipped out before you could think of the possible consequences. “Because you’re young.”

“I’m not that young.”

“And Luke was just--not like that. He was pretty disinterested after CeCe was born.” You hoped this was enough of a redirection.

“You’re really caught up on my age, aren’t you?”

“No.”

He raised his eyebrows and offered a look that said: bullshit. When he didn’t speak, you cracked a joke.

“Or...you are not hung up enough on how old I am.”

“Why should I care how old you are?”

“Cause you’ve had sex with me and you’re living in my house.”

“Both of those things I am aware of. And feel really good about both of them.”

You let out a laugh at his nonchalance, folded your arms over your chest when he stood up. “You’re something else.”

“I’m not,” you disagreed.

“I think you are,” he nodded, leaned closer to you and offered a challenging glare. His hair was messy, he’d been running around in the backyard with them at Shelli and Irv’s, a few glasses of wine in him seemed to loosen him right up to the point that he was ready to slide tackle your six-year-old.

He watched you for a second, almost like he was waiting for you to stop him. You didn’t, though, you wanted him to kiss you just as much as it looked like he wanted to close to the distance between your chests.

Instead of telling him you shouldn’t, instead of telling him that the girls were down the hall and this was risky, you pulled him on top of you, tugged him by the t-shirt until he flopped down on your bed with a laugh against your lips.

He lifted himself up after a clumsy moment, looked down at you and smirked.

“What?” You asked playfully.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been so turned on by someone in my whole life.”

His words circled around you, pulled your body up to melt into his when his hand cupped your face. He laced his fingers through the hair along your neck, the warmth from his body made your pulse rise with each second.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this when they’re home?”

If the dimples on his cheeks weren’t enough, if the way his tattoos littered his skin wasn’t enough, if the look in his eyes right now on top of you was not enough to create a full-on mom fantasy in your head, the way he talked about your daughters was.

“Yeah,” you tugged him back against your mouth, felt the way your hips tilted against his without any thought. His hands moved to your wrists, holding them in place when he trailed his lips down your jaw, down your neck, pressing kisses in a line along your collarbone.

His hands were warm when they grazed your hips, connecting with skin beneath the fabric of your shirt. You grasped for the hem of his and tugged it over his head in a quick motion, eager to reconnect and feel his skin against yours.

He tasted like wine and smelled like summer, yanked your panties down to your ankles and used his fingers to pull quiet gasps from you like no one had ever before. He held onto your headboard and thrusted into you after you begged: please, please fuck me.

S’probably my favorite thing to do, he said.

The lights were long off and when your heart beats settled and you wiped sweat from your forehead, he laced his fingers between yours.

“Does Jeff want to kill me?”

“No,” you giggled, turned on your side to get a better look at him. The moon through the window illuminated his nose, his eyebrows, the specks of light green in his eyes as they devoured you. “But I’m sure you’ll get a talking to.”

“Should I not talk to him about it?”

You knew what he was asking, you knew he really meant what am I supposed to tell him? What does this mean?

You didn’t have an answer. You didn’t know what he should say or how you should address any of this, because at the end of the day you were a mom and a business owner and he was eight years your junior. He had an album to finish and tour and you knew how that worked.

You watched your dad’s busy lifestyle pull his marriage apart at the seams. Late nights, dinner parties, too much coke in the 80s before you were born and all of those signs pointed in one direction: this would never last.

It couldn’t last, nothing about the equation made sense. Harry + you = fling, rebound, a hook up or friends with benefits type situation that would eventually fade into a memory when he went on tour or when he got the call: your house is finished!

You didn’t have to answer him, though, the pattering of feet in the hallway as a little voice shouted mommy! had you shoving Harry out of bed and onto the floor with a thud before CeCe could push the double doors open.

“Mommy! I had a bad dream!”

“Hi, honey, oh, it’s okay,” you were upright in bed and welcoming her into your arms when Harry grimaced in the dark.

He mouthed a few swear words as you held CeCe, squishing her face into your shoulder to keep her eyes from landing on Harry. You gestured at him wildly with your free hand, ordering him to duck down and remain unseen.

“It was just a dream,” you told her, “you’re okay. Do you want me to walk you back to bed?”

“No,” she cried out quickly. “Can I sleep here?”

You hesitated, then nodded and looked at Harry in the dark. “Of course, yes, you can fall asleep here and then I’ll bring you back to your room.”

“Okay,” she said, the steadiness of her voice returning when she crawled out of your lap and to the spot where Harry had just been. She tugged at the comforters, pushed the pillow in different directions before she let her head rest atop it.

She let out a sigh, her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks and soon enough Harry poked his head up to look at you with wide eyes as you rubbed CeCe’s back.

You held up a finger to your mouth, gave him a threatening glare when he bit back a laugh. You rolled your eyes--it wasn’t funny. She almost walked in on the two of you and while she’d already endured some traumatic things this year, seeing her mom hooking up with the pop star from down the hall would be sure to take the cake.

When Harry caught your gaze again, you smirked, he giggled, clamped a hand over his mouth and watched you for a second.

“Be quiet!”

“You’re the one talking,” he laughed.

“Well she’s asleep now, but we can’t bring her back yet or she’ll wake up.”

“How long do we have to sit like this?”

“A while,” you told him with certainty. “This is called parenting.”

But he did, he sat on the floor on the side of the bed, watched you watch her and eventually, he picked her up from the mattress and followed you down the hall to her room. She softened into him, head on his shoulder and arms around his neck. The sight of it made you want to replay the earlier scene in your head over and over.

She didn’t stir, a few heavy sighs when you pulled the comforter back up to her shoulders, and once the door was shut behind you both, you smirked up at him.

“I think you should go back to your room.”

“Really? After all of that?”

“After almost getting caught by my six-year-old? Yes.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes playfully, crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine, but maybe we can do that again at some point and have it end differently.”

You nodded. “I think that sounds doable.”

He leaned forward, kissed you quickly, and then turned to head for his own room. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

Harry came home from his house tour with good and bad news. The plumbing was fixed, which sped up their timeline, and yet the painters and interior decorator had gotten behind because of it, pushing the timeline out a few weeks.

You weren’t sure which part was good and which part was bad, because by now you were having trouble imagining what your house would feel like without him in it.

You got the news when he strolled in, athletic shorts and a baseball hat on his head when Jeff clapped him on the back. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Harry eyed him suspiciously, reached into the fridge for a juice box. “I live here…”

“Oh, I know you live here.”

“Hello, hi,” you waved at Jeff. “Please do not be weird.”

“That’s all he knows how to be,” Harry offered you a fake-apologetic look.

“That’s all he knows how to be,” Jeff mocked him. “Actually, I know how to be cool and not weird about the fact that my childhood best friend and my adult best friend-slash-artist are now, you know, involved.”

Your stomach did a somersault at his wording, a quick look in Harry’s direction, sure that he would deny the accusation or play it all down.

You found it hard to believe that Harry would be in support of labeling this as anything. Why on earth would a guy like him want to be tied to you with any sort of label or phrasing or word?

“Moving on,” Harry said with a nod. “Are we down to meet up with Tom and Sam tomorrow?”

“Yeah, and we have to do that phone call on Tuesday to go over tour dates.”

Maeve ran in then, a smile on her face when she looked up at Harry. “I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“I learned a new chord on the guitar. By myself.”

“You did?” He acted way more excited about it than he likely was.

Jeff smiled and then told Maeve: “If you learn enough chords maybe you can be his guitarist.”

“Really?!” She beamed.

“No,” you shook your head.

“Of course you would say that.”

“Maeve--you’re a kid, you can’t go on tour.”

“She’s right,” Harry said with a sweet smile, “You’re a bit too young for life on the road.”

“I’m eleven now, though!”

“I know! And very mature for eleven,” he complimented. “I’ll tell you what. You can for sure come visit and come back stage and maybe even bring a friend if your mother lets you.”

She looked to you quickly, excitement in her eyes when they all waited for your response. “Yeah--we can go at some point...see a show or something.”

“Hayley is going to die, oh my god!” She squealed with delight and then moved to sit at a stool beside Jeff.

He had half a sandwich on a plate, one he picked up on his way over for a boring Sunday afternoon of lounging by the pool. Maeve reached for a chip from the bag in front of him.

“By the way, mom, she invited me over Wednesday after school to work on a project, so can you bring me?”

“I have to bring CeCe to dance, sweetie.”

“Well I need you to bring me to the store to get supplies for this stupid poster-board thing we have to make! And Hayley’s mom said she had a question about Luna--something about a moisturizer or something.”

“I can take CeCe to dance,” Harry shrugged, almost like an onlooker in the room. “S’not a big a deal.”

“Are you sure?”

Jeff and Maeve crunched on chips between you, watching the exchange.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll just need to put her booster seat in my car.”

“And bring her a snack for after--she’s always cranky and hungry.”

He laughed, “I can manage that.”

“What would we do without you, Harry?” Maeve asked, a smile on her face.

Jeff put his chin in his hands, teasing. “Yeah, what would we do without you?”

“No one would get anywhere, people would seriously be missing out on my chicken tacos, and this house would be a lot less fun to live in.”

Maeve nodded in agreement, another chip stolen from Jeff. “True, true, and true.”

A few nights later it dawned on you that Maeve and Harry were as close as ever, spending evenings in your dad’s old office while Maeve tried to wrap her arms around a guitar long enough to strum a few chords.

CeCe didn’t seem to feel too left out, she was more than happy to be an audience for Maeve when she’d come running into the living room: Harry taught me a G chord!

On Tuesday night after school it was CeCe’s idea to go for pizza, she chirped about it in the backseat the entire way home, and after learning that the body wash production was behind schedule, you weren’t in the mood to cook.

You took Harry’s car--showed him how to strap the booster seat in and make sure it wouldn’t budge. He wore a hat and sunglasses which both girls found hilarious, but to you it was almost disheartening. What did it mean for him to be seen out with your family?

He sat beside CeCe and cut her pizza into tiny bites so it would cool off, Maeve sipped Mountain Dew from a straw and filled you in on the latest with Hayley. This week was going well, though Hayley said something annoying in the cafeteria.

It felt normal, not weird for him to be sitting across from you, his feet against yours beneath the table and a smirk in your direction every once in a while.

Both Tristan and Zoey had been dying to hear more details. It slipped out one day in the office that okay...maybe it wasn’t just a one time thing, and now the group chat you had with them was blowing up every day.

They were excited for you, rooting for your comeback and rebound and eager for you to just admit that there was something there. But you weren’t able to do that, especially not when everything in your heart wanted to.

By the time you’d all finished eating, he dipped out the back to pull the car around front. You pointed at Maeve and told her to watch CeCe while you went up to the counter to pay for the pizza.

The woman behind the register smiled when you approached. Long acrylic nails, wrinkles at the corner of her eyes made it obvious that she could have been your mother.

“We had one large plain and one small with pepperoni,” you told her.

“Oh, you’re all set, sweetie, your boyfriend paid on his way out.”

Your head pulled back in surprise. “Oh--he’s--we’re not,”

She let out a laugh at your hesitance. “He was just as taken back when I told him he had a beautiful family--said they're not his, though."

You forced a laugh, if only to match the humor in her voice when you turned on your heels to head back to your booth. The thoughts started spinning when Maeve and CeCe climbed into the back of Harry’s car.

He smiled at you when you slid in, patted you on the thigh before he turned around to make sure both girls were settled--Maeve clicked CeCe’s buckle into place and then he put the car into gear.

Sleeping with Harry was mostly meaningless, right? He was attractive and living in your house and clearly you both got something out of it. Convenient, easy, fun. Most of your brain had you convinced that there’d never be any more to it. There was no way that Harry would be interested in sticking around: two kids, a business to run. You didn’t exactly come with no strings attached.

And he corrected the woman too--not my kids, not my family, not my wife, not my anything. Had she settled on the next step down when she called him your boyfriend, or had he offered the label to avoid an awkward encounter?

It felt immature, your heart beating with urgency as you thought about it the whole way home, beads of sweat along your hairline and not from the warm weather. He sensed it, eyed you from behind his sunglasses when he parked in the driveway. Maeve and CeCe raced to the backyard, leaving the two of you alone.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, all good,” you offered a small smile, the same response you gave to one of the girls if they caught you on a bad day.

He followed you inside, kept his eyes trained on you when you dropped your purse on the counter. “What?”

“You seem off.”

“I’m fine,” you lied again. What were you supposed to say? The woman behind the register at the pizza place is making me question the relationship we have and what it means?

You weren’t 17. You were 32. He was 24. All of these numbers swirled in your head when he took a few steps closer to you, eyes out the window quickly to make sure neither of the girls were watching you through the sliding doors.

He pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, lips turned down when he looked over your face. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know,” you caught his wrist and held on for a second, like if you let go he’d disappear and take everything between the two of you with him. You closed your eyes, knew better but still said: “the woman behind the counter called you my boyfriend.”

He let out a laugh, unaware that your words were actually a confession. “She called you my wife, said the girls were cute. I told her I couldn’t take credit.”

“Yeah,” you forced another smile.

“Is that--are you, did that bother you?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” he said, eyes still on you like he wasn’t quite sure where your head was at. He pressed a confusing kiss to your forehead but then said something about calling his sister. You checked work emails and night faded into morning like it always did, no matter how uncertain life was, you always had that.

The next afternoon you brought Maeve to Hayley’s, dropped her off with glue sticks and markers and a plethora of project supplies. A yoga class after that, had her home and with dinner on the stove by 6pm.

Eventually, CeCe burst through the door with a smile on her face. Her pink tutu was around her waist, her legs clad in light pink tights and her hair in a messy ponytail on top of her head. “I had the greatest time at ballet!”

You turned around in the kitchen, eager to hear about her day. “You did?”

“I did,” she nodded confidently. Harry came in the front door behind her, sunglasses on his face and CeCe’s unicorn backpack in hand. Maeve was sat at the counter with a pencil, growing angrier with fractions by the minute.

“Why’s that?”

“We danced to a fun song, and we played a fun game, and everyone loved Harry!”

Your eyebrows rose at that, eyes caught his when he lifted the sunglasses. “They did?”

“Moms, not the six-year-olds.”

This caught Maeve’s attention--she sounded almost disgusted. “Moms?”

“I guess ballet pick-up is typically a mom thing?”

You shrugged. “I mean--I don’t see a lot of dads there, so yeah.”

CeCe shimmied out of her tutu and then climbed up to a stool beside Maeve. Harry walked to hang her backpack on a hook by the backdoor, you questioned if it was even worth asking.

“Were they, like, hitting on you?”

“I mean, not really.”

“Not really?”

He walked over to the island and leaned on it, the dimple in his left cheek let you know he liked the hint of jealousy in your voice. “Maybe a little.”

Dinner simmered on the stove, evening sun brought a glow to the kitchen that made his eyes even more green than usual. When you didn’t reply he broke your gaze, let out a sigh and said: “I’m going to shower before dinner, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” you nodded quickly, embarrassed by the silliness of your question. Of course the moms were hitting on him, of course they were intrigued by his presence and of course they couldn’t help but say hi or even ask for a photo. It shouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest.

He was up the stairs and out of sight quickly, CeCe picked up an extra pencil of Maeve’s and started doodling on her agenda book. You pushed sautéed veggies around in a frying pan and pretended that all of this was normal.

“Hey mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you like Harry?”

You turned around quickly, Maeve’s eyes were inquisitive but not judgmental.

“Do I like Harry? Of course--he’s nice.”

“No, I mean do you like like Harry?”

CeCe didn’t seem too interested in your answer, she hummed to herself and kicked her feet back and forth. Maeve, though, waited patiently while you tried to piece together words that wouldn’t make the roof blow off of your house.

“Harry and I are friends, sweetie.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

You let out a forced laugh. “What is making you ask this?”

“You seemed jealous about the other moms.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you defended. Were you really about to get into it with your eleven-year-old? Would you really defend yourself and make this the hill on which you'd die?

She watched you for a second, looked back down at the worksheet in front of her. “You seemed jealous.”

You were thankful for the fact that she wasn’t making any eye contact now. You let out a sigh and decided that not responding was your best option. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, had it been that obvious? Was she old enough to pick up on the undertones of your relationship?

You turned back to the stove, watched the vegetables sizzle in the pan as your mind started to cave in on itself. All of this was getting out of control, right? First the woman yesterday and the dizziness that overtook you when she said the word boyfriend. Now Maeve sitting at the counter with a curiosity in her that you couldn’t really blame her for.

The doorbell rang, CeCe’s head popped up in excitement. “Who is that?!”

“I don’t know,” you said. She hopped off her stool and took off the door as you followed behind her. You hadn’t planned on a visit from Jeff, maybe Tristan needed last minute approval on a product.

But when CeCe yanked the door open with both hands and an excited smile on her face, you didn’t expect to see Luke, hands in his pockets and eyebrows raised high.

“Daddy!”

“Hi sweetie,” he knelt down on one knee, wrapped his arms around her when Maeve made a noise of excitement before rushing over. She crashed into him, pushing her way into their hug.

“What are you doing here?” she asked excitedly.

“I wanted to visit, I was in the neighborhood,” he said with a shrug, eyes glancing up to you.

It was bullshit, he’d always been good at talking his way out of things or coming up with an explanation, smile sweet and words even sweeter. He backed away from them when they let go, stood back up and smiled at you, a quick nod in greeting.

“How’ve you been?”

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spockandawe · 3 years ago

Text

Well, this is interesting! So, in that post yesterday, there was one line that really baffled me, a thing about people brushing off a character as an asshole “because he shows literally zero growth.” I kind of set that aside because it was such a weird non-sequitur, and guessed that it was just someone’s sentences not quite keeping up with their train of thought, which has happened to me many times. Apparently I was wrong! I already spent long enough on that one post, I’m tired of talking about that, but this is new and interesting.

Okay. I kind of wanted to see if I could talk about this purely in terms of abstracts and not characters, but I don’t think it’ll work. It would be frustrating to write and confusing to read. It’s about Jiang Cheng. Right up front: This isn’t about whether or not he’s an abuser. Frankly, I don’t think it’s relevant. This also isn’t about telling people they should like him. I don't care whether anyone else likes him or not. But I do like him, and I am always fascinated by dissecting the reasons that people disagree with me. And the process of Telling Stories is my oldest hyperfixation I remember, which will become relevant in a minute.

I thought I had a good grasp on this one, you know? Jiang Cheng makes it pretty obvious why people would dislike Jiang Cheng. But then the posts I keep stumbling over were making weird points, culminating in that “literally zero growth” line.

So! What happened is that someone wrote up a post about how Jiang Cheng’s character arc isn’t an arc, it’s stagnation. It’s a pretty interesting read, and I broadly agree with the larger point! The points where I would quibble are like... the idea that it’s absolute stagnation, as opposed to very subtle shifts that still make a material difference. But still, cool! The post was also offered up as a reason why OP was uninterested in writing any more Jiang Cheng meta, which I totally get. I’m not tired of him yet, but I definitely understand why someone who isn’t a fan of his would get tired about writing about a character with a very static arc. Okay!

Now, internet forensics are hard. I desperately wish I had more information about this evolution, because I find this stuff fascinating, but I have no good way to find things said in untagged posts, reblogs, or private/external venues. But as far as I can tell, that “literally zero growth” wasn’t just a slip of the tongue, it’s become fashionable for people to say that Jiang Cheng is an abusive asshole (that it’s fucked up to like) because he doesn’t have a character arc.

Asshole? Yes. Abusive? This post still isn’t about that. This is about it being fucked up to like this character because he did bad things and had a static character arc.

At first, that point of view was still deeply confusing to me. But I think I figured out the idea at the core of it, and now I’m only baffled. I’m not super interested in confirming this directly, because the people making the most noise about this have not inspired confidence in their ability to hold a civil conversation and I’m a socially anxious binch, but I think the idea is: ‘This character did Bad Things, and then did not improve himself.’

Which is alarmingly adjacent to that old favorite standard of ‘This piece of fiction is glorifying Bad Thing.’ I haven’t seen anyone accusing mxtx of something something jiang cheng, only the people who read/watched/heard the story and became invested in the Jiang Cheng character, but things kind of add up, you know?

Like I said, I don’t want to arbitrate anyone’s right to like/dislike Jiang Cheng. That’s such a fucking waste of time. But this is fascinating to me, because it’s like..... so obviously new and sudden, with such a clear originating point. I can’t speak to the Chinese fans, obviously, but exiledrebels started translating in... what, 2017? And only now, in 2021, do people start putting forth Jiang Cheng’s flat character arc as a “reason” that he’s bad? I’m not going to argue if he pings you in the abuse place, I’m not a dick. I’m not going to argue if you just dislike his vibes. I’m just over here on my blog and in the tag enjoying myself, feel free to detour around me. But oh my god, it’s so silly to try to tell other people that they shouldn’t like him because he has a static character arc.

I want to talk about stories. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to say, because it’s impossible to make broad, sweeping statements, because there are stories about change, there are stories about lack of change, there are all kinds of media that can be used to tell stories, and standards for how stories are told and what they emphasize vary across cultures and over time. But I think that what I can say is that telling a story requires... compromise. It requires streamlining. Trying to capture all the detail of life would slow down most stories to an unbearable degree. Consider organically telling someone ‘I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich’ versus the computer science exercise of having students describe, step by step, how to make one (spread peanut butter? but you never said you opened the lid)

Hell, I’ve got an example in mdzs itself. The largely-faceless masses of the common people. If someone asks you to think about it critically like, yes, obviously these are people, living their own lives, with their own desires, sometimes suffering and dying in the wake of the novel plot. But does the story give weight to those deaths? Or does it just gloss by? Yes, it references their suffering occasionally, but it is not the focus, and it would slow the story unbearably to give equal weight to each dead person mentioned.

Does Wei Wuxian’s massacre get given the same slow, careful consideration as Su She’s, or Jin Guangyao’s? No, because taking the time to weigh our protagonist with ‘well, this one was a mother, and her youngest son had just started walking, but now he’s going to grow up without remembering her face. that one only became an adult a few months ago, he still hasn’t been on many night-hunts yet, but he finds it so rewarding to protect the common people. oh, and this one had just gotten engaged, but don’t worry, his fiancee won’t mourn him, because she died here as well.’ And continuing on that way to some large number under 3000? No! Unless your goal is to make the reader feel bad for cheering for a morally grey hero, that would be a bad authorial decision! The book doesn’t ignore the issue, it comes up, Wei Wuxian gets called out about all the deaths he’s responsible for, but that’s not the same as them being given equal emotional weight to one (1) secondary character, and I don’t love this new thing where people are pretending that’s equivalent.

When Wei Wuxian brutally kills every person at the Wen supervisory office, are you like ‘holy shit... so many grieving families D:’ or are you somewhere between vindicated satisfaction and an ‘ooh, yikes’ wince? Odds are good you’re somewhere in the satisfaction/wince camp, because that’s what the story sets you up to feel, because the story has to emphasize its priorities (priorities vary, but ‘plot’ and ‘protagonist’ are common ones, especially for a casual novel read like this)

Now, characters. If you want to write a story with a sweeping, epic scale, or if you want to tightly constrain the number of people your story is about, I guess it’s possible to give everyone involved a meaningful character arc. Now.... is it always necessary? Is it always possible? Does it always make sense? No, of course not. If you want to do that, you have to devote real estate to it, and depending on the story you want to tell, it could very possibly be a distraction from your main point, like the idea of mxtx tenderly eulogizing every single character who dies even incidentally. Lan Qiren doesn’t get a loving examination of his feelings re: his nephews and wei wuxian and political turnover in the cultivation world because it’s not relevant, and also, because his position is pretty static until right near the end of the story. Lan Xichen is arguably one of the most static characters within the book, he seems like the same nice young between Gusu and the present, right up until... just before the end of the story.

You may see where I’m heading with this.

Like, just imagine trying to demand that every important character needs to go through a major life change before the end of your book or else it didn’t count. This just in, Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg go through multiple novels without experiencing radical shifts in who they are, stop liking them immediately. I do get that the idea is that Jiang Cheng was a ~bad person~ who didn’t change, but asdgfsd I thought we were over the handwringing over people being allowed to like ““bad”” fictional characters. The man isn’t even a canonical serial killer, he’s not my most problematic fave even within this novel.

And here is where it’s a little more relevant that I would quibble with that original post about Jiang Cheng’s arc. He’s consistently a mean girl, but he goes from stressed, sharp-edged teenager, to grief-stricken, almost-destroyed teen, to grim, cold young adult (and then detours into grim, cold, and grief-stricken until grief dulls with time). He does become an attentive uncle tho. He..... doesn’t experience a radical change in his sense of self, which... it’s...... not all that strange for an adult. And bam, then he DOES experience a radical change, but the needs of the plot dictate that it’s right near the end. And he’s not the focus of the story, baby, wangxian is. He has the last few lines of the story, which nicely communicate his changes to me, but also asdfafas we’re out of story. He was never the main character, it’s not surprising we don’t linger! The extras aren’t beholden to the needs of plot, but they’re also about whatever mxtx wanted to write, and I guess she didn’t feel like writing about Jiang Cheng ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But also. Taking a step backward. Stable characters can fill a perfectly logical place in a story. Like, look at Leia Organa. I’m not saying she has no arc, but I am saying that she’s a solid point of reference as Luke is becoming a jedi and Han is adjusting his perspective. I wouldn’t call her stagnant, the vibes are wrong, but she also isn’t miserable in her sadness swamp, the way Jiang Cheng is.

Or, hell, look at tgcf. The stagnant, frozen nature of the big bad is a central feature of the story. The bwx of now is the bwx of 800 years ago is the bwx of 1500+ years ago. This is not the place for a meta on how that was bad for those around him and for him himself, but I have Thoughts about how being defeated at the end is both a thing that hurts him and relieves him. Mei Nianqing is a sympathetic character who’s also pretty darn static. Does Ling Wen have a character arc, or do we just learn more about who she already is and what her priorities always were? I’m going to cut myself off here, but a character’s delta between the beginning of a story and the end of a story is a reasonable way to judge how interesting writing character meta is, and is a very silly metric to judge their worth, and even if I guessed at what the basic logic is, for this character, I am still baffled that it’s being put forth as a real talking point.

(also, has it jumped ship to any other characters yet? have people started applying it in other fandoms as well? please let me know if this is the case, I am wildly curious)

(no, but really, if anyone is arguing that bwx is gross specifically because he had centuries to self-reflect and didn’t fix himself, i am desperate to know)

And finally. The thing I thought was most self-evident. Did I post about this sometime recently? If a non-central character experiences a life-altering paradigm shift right near the end of the story (without it being lingered over, because non-central character), oh my god. As a fic writer? IT’S FREE REAL ESTATE. This is the most fertile possible ground. If I want to write post-canon canon-compliant material, adsgasfasd that’s where I’m going to be looking. Okay, yeah, the main couple is happy, that’s good. Who isn’t happy, and what can I do about that? Happy families are all alike, while every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way, etc.

It’s not everyone’s favorite playground, but come on, these are not uncommon feelings. And frankly, it’s starting to feel a little disingenuous when people act like fan authors pick out the most blameless angel from the cast and lavish good things upon them. I’m not the only one who goes looking for a good dumpster fire and says I Live Here Now. If I write post-canon tgcf fic, it’s very likely to focus on beef and/or leaf. I have written more than one au focusing on tianlang-jun.

And, hilariously. If the problem with Jiang Cheng. Is that he is a toxic man fictional character who failed to grow on his own, and is either unsafe or unhealthy to be around. If the problem is that he did not experience a character arc. If these people would be totally fine with other people liking him, if he improved himself as a person. And then, if authors want to put in the (free! time-consuming!) work of writing that character development themselves. You would think that they would be lauded for putting the character through healthier sorts of personal growth than he experienced in canon. Instead, I am still here writing this because first, I was bothered by these authors being named as “freaks” who are obsessed with their ‘uwu precious tsundere baby’ with a “love language of violence,” and then I was graciously informed that people hate Jiang Cheng because he experiences no character growth.

#jiang cheng #mdzs #the untamed #disk horse #long post/#abuse/#only tangentially #but better safe than sorry i hope

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