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hopevalley · 4 years ago

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Season 8, Episode 10: Old Love, New Love, Is This True Love

All right, so...like I said, work has picked up and my eyes feel like old marbles from staring at numbers (the woes of working in accounting I guess) so I want to get this written up and tossed into the nether before I lose steam and motivation to do it. The interesting thing about these little write-ups is that as the week goes on they just get harder and harder to write...

I do apologize in advance to those who like the long-winded write-ups. I’m just not up to it at the moment. Still feeling kind of bleh from the episode.

Let’s go back to an old format, shall we?

The Good

We might as well start out with the things about this episode that I enjoyed!

Gossip Hour with the Men was one of the best openers they’ve had on the show in a while. It was genuinely funny without being meanspirited. Nobody looked like the bad guy. Everyone just calmly talked about it alike it was a normal thing to maybe call off the wedding. Bill calling out Carson for giving marriage advice was pretty funny, Mike was a delight. I don’t know what to say. I’d watch a whole episode of The Boys just hanging around spending time together.

Florence’s worry that she’s ugly was...not a terrible idea for a storyline, but the actress is too good-looking to pretend to be ugly (I saw her in this pretty yellow dress on Instagram a couple years ago and she was smashing)? Also, it’s not like Ned is a handsomely aged gentleman (like Henry lol) so it makes even less sense for the characters. I think they should have gone with Florence feeling she’s “plain” and that dressing up Super Nice makes her feel uncomfortable because she just doesn’t feel like Herself and worries maybe it’s projecting a false sense of Who She Is or something? I guess overall I still liked that an attempt was made to add some depth to Florence and her difficulties in choosing a dress/hairstyle, so...it goes here.

Ned asking Henry to be his best man was nice, too. I can forgive the shoddy pacing and weird placement of this request (like I do with almost everything in the show) but only because the scene was just...so incredibly wholesome.

I like how Henry just casually is like, “Well maybe today’s just not the day.” I think it eased Ned’s mind just a little that he CAN back out if he really wants to.

I think it’s worth thinking about the fact that Ned and Henry would have always worked very closely, since the mercantile would have been a company store before the mine closed down... I like Henry and Ned as pals.

I’m glad the “investment” thing with Jesse and Clara’s savings was brought up in a way that...makes sense. And also, glad it wasn’t forgotten.

I really liked Molly and Florence in this episode. I’m a little sad Florence married Ned because I AM SORRY BUT I WANTED TO KEEP SHIPPING MOLLY AND FLORENCE TOGETHER UGHGHGHH

But their relationship is so good and maYBE Elizabeth will learn something from them.

Hey Elizabeth...you see that?

YOU SEE THAT?

Just saying.

And then later...

“You are the sister I never had, the mother I forever wanted, the friend I have always needed. From the depths of those dark and terrifying coal mines you’ve walked beside me, picking me up whenever I’ve stumbled along the way.”

AAAAAAAAA IT GOT ME.

I’m...really liking Fiona and Mike’s relationship, whatever it is. I kind of think they’re not headed toward anything romantic. Everyone thinks Mike is really into Fiona but at the end of the episode we realize he likes talking to her about business; it’s almost like they have this shared passion for numbers/ideas and he likes infodumping to her (and vice-versa).

I think they’re going to end up being “just friends” and Fiona will end up paired off with the man Elizabeth doesn’t choose. They hinted at Nathan briefly in this episode (with Allie’s hair), but who knows? I’m over trying to speculate on where the triangle is going at this point, but I actually like Fiona’s relationship with Mike so much that I’ll be disappointed if she fades into the background with Nathan or Lucas. Mike deserves more screentime.

Ned and Florence sharing their fIRST KISS. My husband got emotional over this. And I admit, it was starting to get to me, too. I can’t NOT root for them.

I said it before and I’ll say it again: I WOULD DIE FOR THE CANFIELDS.

The wedding was nice. I liked that Bill and Joseph officiated it together; it gives Joseph a li’l trial run of pastoring and finally Bill gets to use some of that power of his to officiate a wedding.

“Please, if you’d like” is such a Bill way to say that they may kiss LOL.

Also, I have to admit that I did enjoy Lucas calling Nathan out about Allie. She wouldn’t be caught in the middle if he’d leave Elizabeth alone AND HE IS RIGHT LMAO.

The last good thing: Elizabeth telling Nathan she doesn’t blame him for Jack’s death. Nice. Good. Thank you. He probably needed to hear that.

...THE BAD

Carson and Faith. UGH. UGHHHHHHHHHH. BREAK UP ALREADY I HATE YOU BOTH.

I appreciated that Carson had the ring ages ago, and I did like his conversation with Minnie—or more accurately, her advice to him. I felt like she was nudging him toward, “Remember why you became a surgeon in the first place.” If he became a surgeon to help people, then there’s no reason he can’t help people where he is. Sure, he might not be doing state of the art procedures but with Faith working alongside him, he can afford time to learn new things and go to doctor conventions or even take a specialized class now and then. No other doctor could get away for very long but he has that chance!

And he’ll arguably be doing more good in the middle of nowhere than in the city. All the doctors want to live in the city. Nobody wants to barely get paid for their time in the countryside.

We had a whole episode that made it clear that Faith and Carson don’t make a lot of money and do a lot of charity work. They also work for trade goods (mostly food). So it’s like...a pretty big difference in lifestyle?

Half the reason I can’t get invested in these characters is because I really can’t stand Paul Greene. He just...annoys me on every single level imaginable. But he’s a decent actor and I can’t help but feel that his character was a massive waste of space for the past few seasons through no fault of the man himself. Imagine introducing a character like Carson and then leaving him to rot before you try to make him interesting with a romance plot that nobody asked for.

Yes, some people really like Faith and Carson, but as a whole I think the fandom didn’t buy into them as a ship due to the lack of chemistry.

It really is a shame. This episode didn’t do a thing to endear me to either character. Please, Carson. I am begging you to leave town.

This one particular line of dialogue almost enraged me.

WE KNOW WE KNOW WE KNOW WE KNOW WE CAN SEE THAT FOR OURSELVES. WHY DID THEY HAVE ROSEMARY SAY THIS LIKE IT’S AN EPISODE OF A CHILD’S TV SHOW?

Elizabeth.........

How could Katie have...looked up to her? She was never in her class? That was? Never part of anything? It was just something they threw in here to force Elizabeth to make 1% more sense in the role she’s in but IT STILL DOESN’T WORK.

I felt like I was back in Season 5 again with Lori and Elizabeth putting their nose in everyone’s business except it’s just Elizabeth!! The whole plot, which was boring and contrived anyway, should have gone to Molly, since she’s Florence’s best friend and another woman from town that Katie would have known as a child.

AND ALSO, MOLLY WOULD HAVE KNOWN KATIE’S MOTHER AND WOULD REMEMBER THE GRIEF THAT NED STRUGGLED WITH.

I know they wanted to make Elizabeth give advice so that she’d Realize that she needs to, I don’t know, make better choices or something, but it was too on the nose for me and I hated it.

GinithePooh on Reddit made a good comparison to Elizabeth in this episode by saying she reminded them of Clippy from Microsoft Word, always popping up and offering to help when nobody really needs or wants advice.

To honor their incredible idea, I opened Photoshop and created this gem, which I will also be posting separately so that people can reblog it if they wish to.

I also don’t think I need to say also filed under The Bad is the fact that Elizabeth didn’t even apologize for being awful to Rosemary and then gave her unsolicited advice to other people for two days straight. I can’t believe they wrote that?

All I can say is that her apology to Rosemary, when it comes, better be good.

And I didn’t like this either:

I wish it had been followed up by literally anything: Nathan saying he’s sorry he didn’t tell her sooner or something to make the hand-holding actually be a little more innocent.

As it is, it just seems so deliberate?

Maybe the next episode starts off right in this scene and we’ll get that? If so, this might actually end up being fine. I just don’t think it is if it doesn’t get a little more direct attention.

& THE UGLY

I debated on putting anything in here, because I’m not ready to talk about my feelings on this matter, at least not fully. But I’ve been pretty quiet all season so far, and...eh, why not just mention things in advance? What will it hurt?

Let me preface this section by saying I’m biased and I doubt hardly anyone on this site will agree with me, so feel free to just ignore this part if that’s the case.

There are two things that I really didn’t like in this episode.

I hate the slanting toward Bill/Molly.

I like Molly just fine but I don’t like her with Bill. I’m biased as all getout and also worried about the future/potential Season 9 with regards to this. I don’t want to see it. Like at all. Why, you ask? You should know why if you follow me. I’m super transparent.

It’s because I like AJ AND I WANT HER BACK LOL.

John Tinker rewatched the series so we know he wouldn’t have missed that hanging plot thread—especially since he didn’t forget any of the other things that were brought up this season! So why didn’t she appear this season? The love triangle absolutely needed to be a focus or it would have never ended, so that’s part of it, but I’m also pretty sure Josie Bissett wasn’t interested in doing any filming last year during Covid. My only “proof” is that Wedding March 6 wasn’t filmed last year even though it was scheduled to be filmed, but it makes sense. Last year was chaos.

THAT SAID, Jack Wagner posted on his Instagram the other day that they are actually filming Wedding March 6 now, so... I guess AJ’s re-appearance in Season 9 wouldn’t come as too much of a surprise if they wanted to write it.

You’d think I’d be hyped about that, and I kind of am? But it doesn’t come without its share of worries, too. We just had the worst love triangle in the history of love triangles and I really don’t want another one, especially if it makes any of the characters in question look stupid or mean.

I fully admit a well-written love triangle could be a LOT of fun for them* (low stakes because they’re not front and center characters), but I saw how Nathan was written so far this season and I really, REALLY do not want to see that happen to Molly, Bill, or AJ.

Anyway, not a fan of the Molly/Bill stuff. No chemistry. I don’t want it.

*I would totally write a fanfic like this lmao.

And finally...the part that everyone will hate me for:

I DO NOT WANT TO SEE ABIGAIL COME BACK. And I specifically do not want her to come back ‘cause I do not wanna see Henry/Abigail happen.

I fully recognize that a lot of you like it and ship the heck out of it, and that’s...good. I’m glad you enjoy it. I loathe it, though, and I worry that all these hints (more like...mentions) are leaning toward...something. Like, either they’re:

1) Sending Abigail off/tying up that loose end with Henry (since nothing was ever clarified either way), or

2) Warming up the audience to receive Abigail back on the show.

I’m pretty into the idea of one-sided Henry/Abigail. Hindsight is 20/20, regrets, that’s all some juicy stuff to give a character like Henry. Some things can’t ever be made right again. He had too direct of a connection to the death of her husband and son for me to ever want to see them together. Forgiveness? Yes. A careful but meaningful friendship? Yes. Romantic relationship? Uh...no thanks.

I liked the Abigail mentions at first because I felt like...the character still mattered (as she should) but I’m at a point where I feel like they’re trying really hard to steer the fandom’s view a certain way and not knowing where it’s going is extremely unsettling to me.

I’ll probably talk more about the things that bother me when the season ends, because I’m hoping to have a better idea of where things are going to be headed, but for now just...know that I feel very apprehensive.

And keep in mind that I primarily watch this show for Bill these days, since all my previous faves (AJ, Frank, the old Abigail, Dottie) have exited, stage left. I also always really liked seeing Henry. So as you can imagine, seeing plotlines I hate for the only two characters I’m invested in? Is making me consider dropping the series next year.

My husband told me I should hate-watch it, but I don’t know if my heart can take it. I’ve been following this series for so long...it just...kind of hurts to feel let down like this?

But sometimes an ongoing series ends up going where you...didn’t want it to, and it becomes something that’s no longer right for you. I hope that doesn’t happen, but last night’s episode makes me feel like...it might be happening for real this time.

I guess if that holds true it’ll be back to fanfiction for me. Will that novelization I planned ages ago end up getting written? Will I write the best love triangle fanfic known to man? WHO KNOWS.

For now, we’ll all have to wait and see! Two more episodes left. I’m really curious to see how they resolve some of the open plots right now. :>

#when calls the heart #long post #character studies and information #analysis and meta discussion

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theonewhoimagined · 3 years ago

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Jem Carstairs

In honor of my 1 week anniversary since finishing Clockwork Princess, I present to you: JEM CARSTAIRS

Please forgive my terrible Photoshop skills as I just couldn't resist. I desperately needed to put a face on Jem. Thanks to this post, I found Song Weilong as the perfect Jem! He's Chinese, but at the same time, his features are also quite Western (am I making sense lol) which is perfect since Jem is half British half Chinese.

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wandaluvstacos · 4 years ago

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Chapter 38 of Pretty Things is up! IT’S THE LAST CHAPTER OH BOY.

Chapters 1 & 2 are free.

Pretty Things is part of the Sponsors universe, but you don’t need to have read The Sponsors to understand it (hopefully!). Please forgive the poorly photoshopped cover. :( I plan on doing it as a digital illustration at some point.

Summary:

As zhalja to the eldest prince, Rhazaaq Samir has the most enviable position a slave could boast. Yet with all the glamor and prestige that comes with being a royal zhalja, Samir isn’t living the luxurious life other see. While his sponsor Rhazaaq Zhafal is fair despite his cold nature, Zhafal’s half-brother Uyhem harbors a terrifying obsession with Samir that flips between adoring and violent at the speed of a changing wind. To ensure an illusion of safety, Samir begins building a coalition of valuable allies, from servants to ex-smugglers, who can help him cement what little control he can possess. Despite all his efforts, Uyhem’s overbearance cannot be denied, which is how Samir ends up at a gladiator fight, where thieves and prisoners of war are forced to battle it out for the amusement of the Empire’s populace. It’s at a fight that Samir meets a Mulli soldier captured from the Hahnar Empire’s rival, someone who claims to know him from a past life— one that Samir has tried to forget.

Forced together at Uyhem’s insistence, Samir grudgingly learns more about this Mulli soldier, and in the process, develops the first glimmer of hope for escape.

Artwork and a chapter archive can be found HERE.

Excerpt:

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. About. I need a walk.”

Mamoud reached for him, but Taleen skirted around his outstretched arm and stalked out of the room. For a brief moment he wished he was a child so he could go running to his mother and ask to sleep with her for the night. But she was probably sharing a bed with Mustafa, and there was no way Taleen was involving himin any of this.

Taleen ended up on a bench in a small nearby nook, arms wrapped around his legs and face buried in his knees, like a toddler scared of the dark. He cried a little bit, wiping his sleeve across his cheeks and upper lip several times to catch the snot and tears. He was a little mad at Mamoud, but he was mostly horrified by the nature of his own request, and he didn’t blame Mamoud for reacting the way he did. He probably was mad for thinking it would help. Most would think only a gentle lovemaking would fix what had been broken. But Taleen had complete trust in Mamoud, and it still wasn’t enough. His issue were the memories, and he was so completely desperate to bridle them and steer like he would a wild horse. Right now he was without reins or stirrups, galloping through the wilderness, waiting for the next tree branch to knock his head off his neck.

“Taleen.”

Taleen lifted his face from his knees and found Mamoud kneeling beside him. Mamoud reached out a hand and put it on Taleen’s thigh, and Taleen pulled him into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Taleen whimpered, face buried in his neck. “I never want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Mamoud held him without speaking, again offering his presence more than his voice. When Taleen finally pulled back, Mamoud grasped his hands.

“There are a lot of things I’ve done I haven’t wanted to do,” Mamoud murmured. “The least terrible of them would be to help you conquer your demons. My reservation comes from fear that this would make it worse. How sure are you that it won’t?”

“Not sure at all,” Taleen replied miserably.

Mamoud sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I wished instead you’d asked me to find the man who tried kidnapping you three days ago and beat him to a pulp.”

Taleen chuckled wetly. “I’d enjoy it more, probably.”

Mamoud pressed both of Taleen’s hands inside of his, then lifted them to kiss the thumbs poking through underneath his. “Let’s go back to the bedroom and discuss what this idea of yours entails.”

#Pretty Things #my writing #original fiction #excerpt #patreon #update

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ogcassiopeia · 4 years ago

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Throwback Thursday

Because I can and I’ve been told I should share my experience...let’s throwback to the years of 2013-2015...when I was living in Aichi, Japan and got to see a Tohoshinki/TVXQ concert after years and years of preparation and waiting.

First, I just want to mention that living in Japan made it so easy to come across TVXQ/Tohoshinki goods and I didn’t feel like an utter outcast there for enjoying them. I heard their music everywhere, I saw their faces almost everywhere and I came across fans all the time.

I attended the 2013 SM Town Concert at Tokyo Dome (which was where I first saw Tohoshinki/TVXQ live) and prior to the concert, I decided to tour around Tokyo and explore the amazing city (as you do). It was October, so the weather was really nice and a lot of people were out and about. I got really fucking sick with a flu the day prior to the Tokyo trip, but I wasn’t going to give up my chance to see TVXQ for the first time and so I drank a shit ton of Orinamin C (vitamin drink) and took extra strength NyQuil and tried to power through.

Below the cut there will be some super-duper photos ---

Warning: I apologize for my face in advance.

I came across this display in Tower Records and knew I had to have a photo with it. There was a line of other fans who were also waiting to take photo (which took about 30 minutes for me to get through) and the woman taking the photos, who worked at Tower Records kept shouting that these outfits were “actually worn by Changmin and Yunho” and to “buy their new CD and concert DVD’s”. When she took my photo, she said I wasn’t the only foreigner who had come through the line that day and that she was surprised by how internationally famous TVXQ are. (Please forgive my derpy face, I had a 102 degree fever and was honestly halfway dead by that point. If you look closely, you can see my face mask clutched in my hand LOL)

This photo was taken inside of the Tokyo Dome about an hour prior to the concert starting. I was honestly amazed that I was actually IN the Tokyo Dome...I’ve seen so many concerts from the TD on DVD that it was weird thinking I was actually there. As you can tell, my and my friend’s seats were nosebleed level but we had binoculars and still enjoyed ourselves.

This photo was taken in an old-style shopping district in Nagoya about a week after I arrived in Japan. All of these lifesize cutouts of kpop stars were littering the walkway in front of a kpop merchandise store. What I find hilarious is that this OT5 cutout isn’t even a real group photo...it’s just photoshopped to look like that...but I’ll take what I can get. (And yes, there was a SHIT TON of TVXQ merchandise inside the shop...)

One of the best days of my life....I got to finally see a TVXQ concert....JUST TVXQ! I went with a BigEast member friend who was able to get us pretty amazing seats and purchase some limited BigEast items for me. This whole day we spent fangirling and getting pumped for the concert....we saw these trucks drive up and down the main downtown streets in Nagoya blasting Tohoshinki music.

There is the Nagoya Dome along with the tour trucks and a terrible photo of the BigEast merch stand. My friend and I had to wait about 1.5 hours in the pouring rain in the line for tour goods, but I got to have a sweet conversation with the group of other fans surrounding us. I do not believe I was the only foreigner there, but I may have been the only Caucasian one...as that is what a lot of them were telling me.

We weren’t allowed to take photos inside the dome...albeit I am not sure why our section was policed more than others (I saw so many people taking photos and videos who were never approached, but every time I took out my phone, I had a staff member start walking towards me...) but that is alright...I still got a lot of before and after photos.

Anyways...there ya go. I just felt like sharing my experiences since I’ve been really missing Japan and TVXQ lately....this pandemic makes me feel really lucky I had the chance to live abroad. If you have any questions, you can feel free to ask...hope you enjoyed this little trip down memory lane with me.

#personal #japan #life in japan #tvxq #tohoshinki #with concert #my face #my god this is such a lame post #i am sorry you all had to look at this

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ramblinganthropologist · 4 years ago

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Writober 2020 - 18 (photograph)

Extra, extra, read all about it: someone’s about to fucking die. As they should, because who the hell honestly believes that Commander Shepard and Commander Shepard are straight anyway?

(ME1)

---

“Do you think either of them know they were seen yet?”

“Doubt it. Definitely explains the last name thing, though. How long do you think it's been?”

“Can't have been more than 5 years, they both did N7...”

Alistair was starting to get tired of people whispering. Didn't they know it was rude?

Ok, maybe his nerves were still a little frayed from the whole touch the Prothean beacon, figure out Saren is trying to kill everyone, become the first human Spectre thing. Nobody could blame him that he was a little cranky that morning as he left his office to get the Normandy where it needed to go. The fact it was actually his ship definitely didn't help either. After years of being enlisted or an officer, having free reign was... deeply uncomfortable.

He'd probably get over it, but... yeah it felt weird.

Still, even in his terrible mood it was impossible to miss the stares and the whispers from the crew whenever he walked by. Part of him had wondered if it was them gossiping about how he'd gotten the Normandy off Admiral Anderson, but... it didn't feel right. Professional whispering from the ranks was one thing, but this felt... oily. Salacious, maybe. Definitely something personal, which just amped up the gossip even more.

Now, had he been in a better mood, Alistair probably would have ignored it. The thing was, he wasn't. So he would have to be forgiven if he took a right when he should've gone straight and walked straight behind the two gossiping crew-mates. Neither of them noticed him, of course. He was quiet like that.

“What was that about N7?”

He shouldn't have enjoyed just how much air the two men cleared when they jumped out of their skins, but forgive him if he wasn't feeling just a little petty that morning. They were both 3 shades lighter as they turned to face him, and the sweat was really starting to pour down their faces. On his scale, he'd call that shit terrified.

Good.

“C-Commander Shepard, sir! W-we didn't see you there!”

He smiled, but there was nothing friendly about it. “Yes, that tends to happen when someone comes up from behind you. Now, to reiterate. What was that about N7? Have either of you been asked to join the training program? My congratulations if so, it's an honor even to be asked.”

He would know – he had it tattooed above his ass. And he definitely knew nobody on his ship was in active training at the moment. It was one of the perks that came with being the Normandy's CO. The other was getting to see moment like this transpire before him.

The larger of the two was sweating bullets as he tried to figure out what to say. “N-no... nothing like that, sir.”

“Just...” the words failed the smaller one. His face screwed up as he seemingly gave up whatever he was holding back. “How long have you been married to XO Shepard?”

…

Alistair blinked slowly. “What?”

If he hadn't known better... someone had just asked if he was married to his XO. His XO, Commander Bo Peep Shepard. His XO, Commander Bo Peep Shepard, his best friend and probably the closest thing he had left to family.

What the entire fuck?

Big one rubbed the back of his neck as his face began to take color again. “It... was on the extranet a few days ago. Pictures of you two together. It implied that you two were married. We thought it would explain the shared last name and all...”

Alistair let a sigh leak from between his teeth as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “A tabloid with nothing better to do, I assume.”

He let the pinch go, shaking his head. “Mind sending that site to me? I think I need to do some correction next time we dock at the Citadel.”

The two were already racing for their omni-tools, but he could tell the question still loomed in both their eyes. After all, he could just be trying to quash the story to keep his so-called marriage quiet. These crew, lovely as they were, didn't know he or his XO well enough yet.

Maybe that was why he rolled up his sleeve to expose his tattoo. “And by the way, I think this should clarify your questions.”

He tapped the wing colored in the gay pride flag for emphasis. The other, shaded in trans pride, went without saying. Years later, he was still glad he had gotten it during pride, even if it had been somewhat of a spur of the moment choice. Ironically enough, he had gotten it with Bo – she had the lesbian colors around her ankle.

You know, because she was a fucking lesbian and he was gay as hell.

“O-oh... yeah I guess it would.” Someone's face was turning red. “Sorry, Commander...”

“Just don't spread it around anymore.” Down went his sleeve. “Now, I'm going to go see where this website is hosted...”

With that he left them, the details blooming to life on his omni-tool screen. Once they got back to the Citadel, he and Bo were going to have to take a little trip...

---

“I'm going to murder them when I get my hands on them.”

“Don't worry, I won't stop you.”

The port hissed as Bo and Alistair left the Normandy's decontamination lock and entered the Citadel docking bay. It had been a few days since the discovery on ship, and now they were at the heart of the matter. Someone was about to get their clock cleaned, and it wasn't going to be mechanically.

'Don't forget ,you two, you don't have to testify against each other in court since you're married and all~!'

Al shot a glare back at the Normandy as he pressed the communicator in his ear. “Joker-”

'Just kidding, commanders. I know what teams you two play for. I guess we'll know you found them when we see the blood spurting.'

“You better fucking believe it.” Bo's eyes were practically glowing with hostility as she stomped down the walkway that connected their ship to the dock. Around them hummed the activity of the Citadel proper. Ships sailed above their heads, people went about their business... and somewhere, a tabloid was about to get the unholy shit kicked out of it.

Alistair checked the details on his omni-tool as they began to walk. “I traced the website's ISP to a building in the Wards. Chances are, they're there.”

“If not, they're going to tell us where the fuck they are.” Her knuckles were white as she slammed them together. “Damn straights and their height kink. How the hell could anyone think I was straight?”

Yeah, that was his question – she was built like a tank and had pink hair. How the hell could anyone read that as straight?

“I mean, they thought I was straight somehow, so they don't have a great judge of character.” Alistair tapped at his omni-tool. “It would be faster if we got a taxi, but walking is an option too. Up to you honestly.”

Bo didn't answer him. He realized why once he figured out he had lost his handy patch of shade. The other Spectre had left him in order to go storm over to a nearby newsstand where people were whispering. Given a few were running...

Well, he ran over to make sure nobody died.

“I can't fucking believe this!”

She pounded her fist on the counter, and Alistair felt like doing the same once he saw it. A new story had popped up, front cover with a picture that definitely wasn't photoshopped. Bo was front and center, chatting with a rather lovely lady. Anyone who could read body language could guess the two were probably flirting, which is probably why someone had been so quick to take it. Above the photo, a bold headline proclaimed “Commander Shepard: Newlywed in Bisexual Affair?”

Oh boy... whoever took that was a dead man.

Bo rounded on him, fire in her eyes. “Taxi. Now.”

Alistair didn't need to be told twice – they were soon in the back of a cab, headed towards the Wards. To say a burning silence fell over the back was putting it mildly. Bo was gearing up to kill someone, and he... well he didn't want to be next in the tabloid.

The cab driver unfortunately didn't have the sense God gave to rocks as he surveyed the two. “Trouble in paradise, huh? Well, there's always divorce court.”

Alistair grabbed for Bo before she could crash the cab. “We're actually going to clear up we're not married!”

“Ah, that's a shame. You two make a cute couple, being the first two Spectres and all. You could've made some wicked strong biotic kids.”

“Sir when I tell you I'm the only thing keeping you alive right now, please believe me and keep driving.”

By the time they were dropped off in the Wards, Alistair was pretty sure he had lost 10 pounds keeping the cab driver alive. His arms were killing him as they stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of a nondescript office building. It had a listing on the side, telling the different businesses inside. Their next stop was on the fourth floor... so if anyone got tossed out of a window, they would probably live.

“Alright, so let's figure out what we're-”

He didn't get to finish his statement. Bo was already walking in like a woman on a mission, leaving him in the dust. All he could do was chase after her, eventually catching up on the stairs to the second floor. All the while, a receptionist chased after them.

“Excuse me, you can't just-”

Bo turned back to face her dead on. “Spectre business.”

Their tail shook a little, but... Al was pretty sure it was because she was kind of into that. She was definitely blushing a little as she backed up. “R-right... fourth floor is what you're looking for, ma'am.”

Alistair sighed as he held up his hand in an apologetic gesture. “Sorry, we'll be done quickly. Thank you for your information.”

And then he was chasing after Bo again as she took the stairs two at a time. Before long, they were standing on the fourth floor's landing. There was only one door here, labeled with a sign that called themselves Citadel Daily. They were one of many tabloids that supplied the Presidium and Wards with the lack of news people loved, and no doubt they were one of the more popular ones. After all, they were creating quite the buzz about humanity's first two Spectres.

A buzz that was about to be repaid with a lot of violence if he didn't mediate.

He managed to grab her wrist before they went in. “Let's just... try talking first.”

“It's not you they're calling a cheat, Al.” She tugged her arm away. “I'm handling this my way.”

And then she pushed the door open, probably burying the knob in the wall. All motion stopped on the other side as she stormed into the room, coming to a stop at the heart of it. All Alistair could do was enter after her pulling the door out of the wall as he did. Yep... the handle went straight through. That was going to require a patch.

Bo glared at the room filled with desks and people. Someone was reaching for a camera, a device that abruptly died as her eyes glowed red. She might not have been good with technology, but she knew how to break it just fine. No more devices came out after that – they were smart.

“I'm only going to say this one, who the fuck is John Jacobs and when are they getting the fuck out?”

Nobody moved at first. Alistair could hardly blame them as he scanned the room. Mostly, he just saw shocked wanna-be journalists and gossip columnists who had never expected this kind of treatment. After all, they weren't printing anything particularly hard hitting. Of course, their mistake had been printing about the Shepards... which was a bad idea to say the least.

He spotted someone twitching in the corner of the room. Rather than alert Bo, he began to pick his way over. Nobody would look at him, but that was fine. He had his eye on the man trying to hide behind his desktop, looking at though he might piss himself.

And as he should – from the looks of things, he was working on his latest article.

“'Commander Shepard spotted coming out of a bar with-'” He shook his head, sighing. “Mr. Jacobs, if you were even half a journalist you would know I can't drink on my medication. That's just sloppy work right there.”

The man definitely pissed himself as he backed up in his seat. “C-Commander Shepard!”

“One of them, anyway.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Bo, found him.”

Maybe that was mean, but the photoshop job on that picture had been particularly atrocious. So maybe he didn't feel bad that hell on wheels was storming over, ready to put her fist straight through this guy's head. At least he'd stop it if it came to murder...

Maybe.

Bo came to a stop in front of the desk. His desktop fizzed and died as she loomed over him. Alistair definitely smelled piss and something else as the full weight of his crimes fell upon him. And of course, nobody was dumb enough to take pictures. After all, they were Spectres and about ready to prove what happened if you tried to smear them.

Though... was it actually a smear if they did make this guy's life a living hell?

“John Jacobs?”

His answer came out shaky. “Y-Yes, that's me. I didn't expect the story to get so big, b-but-”

Too late. He was already out of his seat by the collar of his garish shirt. Bo had him at eye level, and Al was there to avoid the pants region as he watched the carnage unfold. Someone nearby had a camera up - a blue-eyed gaze quickly put a stop to that. Bo wasn't the only one who knew how to break technology.

“What the fuck was going through your demented little fucking head?” She brought him closer. “You got some kind of height kink, you nasty fuck?”

John was sweating bullets. “N-no! I just... a lot of people think you two are married! It's the same last names!”

Yeah, Alistair was doubting the lack of height kink, but at least he was trying to be honest. He was still probably going to get the shit beaten out of him, though. He kind of deserved it, what with insinuating they were not only married but... ugh... straight.

Really, how the hell did anyone think that of them?

Bo's eyes said murder and her fists were willing to comply. “Let me put it to you this way, that receptionist down there is more my type than this manlet will ever be.”

“Hey, I'm a maligned party too, don't take out your frustration on me.” Alistair rubbed the back of his neck anyway – talking about his height was a sensitive subject. “Anyway, we're very clearly not married.”

“Or straight.”

He nodded. “Or straight, yes that's kind of important. So maybe you should print a retraction on those articles and apologize so you don't get thrown out a window. You'd probably survive, but it would sure hurt a lot regardless.”

Judging by the grip on his collar, he wasn't going to get out of this without some form of damage... but maybe they could keep him from getting tossed out a window. Besides, if he pissed himself anymore he was going to start leaking on the floor. Talk about gross.

John's eyes traveled from Shepard to Shepard. “T-this is cen-”

“Oh come the fuck on, she's ready to murder you do you really wanna complain about censorship? Read the room, man.”

Normally, Alistair didn't swear. However, this man clearly didn't have sense in his head, so maybe shock methods were needed. At least he shut his mouth that time as he thought the offer over. Maybe he should think a little faster.

Bo started to move to the window. “Well, he had his chance.”

“No, wait, stop!” Both his fists couldn't fit around her wrist. “I'll print the retraction!”

She stopped a few feet from the open window. “And you'll stop writing about us. No more Shepard stories, understood?”

He started to look like he wanted to argue, but... that window was pretty damn close. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he considered his options. Then he got inched a little closer, and the decision was clearly made.

“U-Understood... I won't print anymore.”

And then he was dropped to the floor in a sad, soggy heap. Bo wheeled around and glared at the entire room. Alistair stepped forward as well, feeling much more pleasant as he surveyed the terrified reporters sitting before him.

“I hope you all understand, that goes for anyone here. Nobody gets a free pass out of defenestration, understood?”

And then his eyes glowed as another camera died. “No story about this either, by the way. I've added you guys to my omni-tool news feed, so don't think just because we're off saving people that we won't hear about it.”

Given everyone else looked like they might need a change of underwear once they left, that was another pact sealed. With any luck, they wouldn't get too stupid about their stories. Of course, if they did... it wasn't like they were going to move buildings.

“Good talk.” Bo was already throwing the door open. “Let's get the fuck out of here, it smells like piss.”

Alistair was already following her out, sighing in relief as the door shut behind them. At least nobody had died, or even been really bodily harmed in the process. As far as missions went, this was one of their more successful ones.

Then again, Bo hadn't gotten to work her frustration out, so...

“Want to hit up the Alliance training course to work out that energy before we go see Anderson?”

“Fuck yes.” Bo was already heading in that direction. “I still should've thrown him out the window. Damn your sensibilities.”

Eh he could take her being mad at him if it meant nobody died. Dissatisfaction was part of being a commanding officer.

---

Retraction on previous stories concerning Commander Bo Peep Shepard and Commander Alistair Shepard

The Citadel Daily would like to publish a retraction towards two stories it printed. Along with this, we extend a heartfelt apology to-

“Well, I guess they got the message.”

Joker was chuckling as the message read over Alistair's omni-tool. All three were gathered in the cockpit a few days later, after a successful mission on a nearby planet. The news had come in as they were on the shuttle, and he had been waiting to listen.

Bo nodded as the message finished. “They fucking better... still don't know who took those damn pictures. They're lucky I didn't find them...”

Alistair nodded as he killed the feed. “Oh, speaking of. Turns out they're a freelancer. I think I have a beat on them-”

No doubt he was starting another hunt for some poor sap, but... well, again, he didn't feel bad. After all, they had thought he was straight. Someone had to pay for that grievous misstep. And with any luck, maybe this one wouldn't wind up out a window either.

You know, maybe being the CO wasn't so bad after all. He got to schedule time for defenestration duties. Talk about a perk of running the show...

#writober2020 #ramblinganthropologist's writing #Alistair Shepard #Bo Peep Shepard #Commander Shepard #paragon shepard #renegade shepard #you can figure out who is who pretty quickly #if not they're color coded for your convenience

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gallantgautier · 5 years ago

Text

String Theory (April Fools!)

Art by Twitter user @Eleror and used with their permission. Please do not repost. (Also check them out they’re so good and so very kind to let me use their work for this)

It’s a beautiful, sun-kissed morning rare for this time of year. There’s little in the way of warmth from the light that creeps past his curtains, but that suits Sylvain just fine. His home territory is cold, and being as fuzzy as he is, heat is just unbearable.

Wiggling his way out of his too-big bed – can’t be helped, they’re standard issue – Sylvain shuffles around on his wonderfully clean floor – dust in his fur? No thank you – and considers how he’s going to go about his day. Climbing up onto his desk is tricky business, it involves a lot of curling and coiling and wriggling, and then a mighty leap to get his long yet miniscule body up onto it. Again, standard issue, but this one is significantly less forgivable than his bed.

Coiled up comfortable and safe in a clean, empty teacup kept for this exact purpose his head curled over the rim, Sylvain takes stock. He could hang out in one of the gardens, climb a trellis and curl around a flower out of the way of clumsy feet who won’t notice a tiny, fuzzy orange worm on the ground. Maybe he could even hitch a ride in someone’s hood or upon their shoulder! That could be fun. Or, perhaps he could-

Wait.

No.

Frantic, Sylvain squirms his way out of the cup and around his desk, eyes darting this way and that as he searches and searches and searches and- It’s gone! The String of Ruin is missing!

No no no no no! This can’t be real. Who knows what will happen if the String falls into the wrong hands! Sylvain throws himself off his desk, zigzagging his way across the floor to squeeze through the gap under his door. He has to find it! But oh, if only he could move faster, if only someone could help him!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello everyone! And welcome to my very silly April Fools! This is entirely Lily’s fault for suggesting that I could, indeed, actually RP Sylworm, even if it’s only for the day.

So, would you like to participate in some short, semi-rapid-fire threads with Sylworm? Well, now you can! The premise is simple: our dear fuzzy worm seems to have misplaced the String of Ruin, and grave misfortune could befall the people of Fodlan should it fall into the wrong hands; Those Who Silther In The Dark! (heh.)

But, alas, he is a very tiny fuzzy worm (think the size of actual worms on strings) and not only will getting around take a very long time for him, but his mission is fraught with danger! What if he gets stepped on? What if someone thinks he’s fishing bait? What if an owl tries to eat him? What if one of the monastery cats thinks he’s a toy? Won’t someone help him?

If you would like to help One Fuzzy Friend, all you need to do is send me an IC ask telling me how your muse happens upon Sylworm, I’ll answer, and we’ll go from there.

Rules!

- These are intended to be semi rapid fire, you only need a couple of lines of dialogue and a little action. This is only happening for a day after all.

- This is most definitely not canon. I hesitate to call it “Not IC” as, personality wise, Sylworm is as much the same as Sylvain as he can be. (I will, however, be tagging threads as “not IC”) Even though I’ll be writing in as serious a manner as I’m capable of when RPing a worm, this is intended for comedic effect. As this isn’t canon to Toa, no one will be able to reference these happenings in other threads.

- Due to these interactions not being canon to ToA, threads won’t count for activity/mastery. (Unless the mods say otherwise.)

- Speaking of activity/mastery, as this is intended to be rapid fire(ish), it’s unlikely that the word count will be high enough for these threads to count anyway.

- Sylworm has no idea of his life as a person. He hasn’t lost his memory, he just thinks it all happened as a worm. (Don’t think about it too much.) He knows who you all are.

- Sylworm has not always been a worm. Be as confused (or not!) as you like! (Really, don’t think about it too much.)

- On account that he is a worm, Sylworm cannot speak. He is, however, very expressive. (Really really don’t think about it.) I’ll always include what he tries to convey in his expressions, it’s entirely at the mun’s discretion how much they understand.

- He can, however, squeak.

- Above all, be creative, and have fun!

- Lastly, for the love of all that’s good in the world, please look at my blog theme. @Eleror was kind enough to allow me to use their art there too and I’m very proud of my amazing terrible photoshop skills!

#April Fools!#so very NOT IC #It's worm time baybeeee #UK timezone privileges letting me post this now #huehuehue

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deadlifts-and-derrida · 6 years ago

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Well, it's been a while since I posted any long form writing here. So how about I do that now? Let's get UNCOMFORTABLY CLOSE.

To tell the story of my first boyfriend, I need to tell the story of coming out to my mother.

I came out to my mother the week before I left to begin university. It didn't go as I hoped it would. I chose mom instead of dad because I thought mom would be easier. Girls and women seemed safer than boys and men. To teenaged me, active homophobia seemed mostly a masculine trait.

I'll stop there. I don't want to set mom up like she had the worst reaction. She didn't get mad. Mad, I could have handled. I was a bold, righteous, outspoken teen; I was equipped to deal with anger. Mom wasn't mad - mom was sad. As if a precious object had dropped to the floor and was now damaged - even if it could be repaired, the crack would always be there.

I couldn't handle sad. It was like I told her I had an inoperable cancer. That's a homophobic attitude just as much as throwing your kid out is, but it's… subtler. How do you respond to it? If you get angry she'll just get sadder. Her sadness hurts you to witness. You wish you hadn't spoken up, because you love your mother and you don't want to make her sad. You regret ever opening your mouth. By you I mean I.

I left for university a week later having had no follow-up discussion, having stuffed myself back into the closet, more or less. When I got to university I would be free to be as gay as I wanted, and I intended to be very. Very. Very. Gay.

Why do I need to tell this story before I get to Matthew? (His name was Matthew). Well. I guess I'm trying to explain why I was the way I was, and I'm hanging the blame on Mom. It's not really fair. Her reaction was bad, and it hurt me, it didn't give me the support I needed at a critical moment. But all of it - her reaction, the fact that I needed the support in the first place - is because of our damned stupid homophobic society, right? Mom and me, we're both just products of the hate machine that spat us out, right? Right?

I love my mother. I forgive her. She danced joyfully at my wedding. It's all fine. Everything is fine. The precious thing got repaired so well you can only really see the crack if you know where to look.

So Matthew.

I spent all of highschool wanting a boyfriend and sex. Unrequited crushes on unattainable men. But the fear. That was real, too. Not just fear that if you got caught checking out the wrong guy he'd gaybash you - although that was a real, potent fear. But also the fear that if you got caught checking out the right guy, then you'd have to go through with it.

Isn't that crazy? Being afraid to go through with the thing you want to go through with! But it's true. Actually attainable men? No. There was one other gay guy in my high school class, and we shared a friend group, although the two of us never really clicked. I was too weird and he was, for want of a better word, too basic. I was also very unfortunate-looking in high school. But in addition to all of this - there was the sense that I couldn't be attracted to him because if I was then something would have to happen and I wasn't ready for that.

But I wanted to be ready for it!

So Matthew, again.

When I got to university, free from my mother's terrible sadness, free from my high school self, I wanted to shed my skin like a snake and slither my way into a new me. Now that I was out and lived in a city (a small city, but the biggest one we had), I really femmed up. Glitter. Tight clothes. Limp wrists. Hair dye. Even eyeliner, sometimes. I wanted the world to know. In part because I was signalling to whoever around me who had the correct receptors: I'm here, I'm queer, for the love of god please do something about it.

Matthew picked up on that signal. He was a (female) friend's best friend. He was in his last year of high school in a town about 90 minutes away, but he made trips in on some weekends to see his best friend. One of those weekends, only a couple of weeks into my very first semester, he and I fell into each other's gravity. Nowadays, I know the sensation well. I'm sure most people will, too. You feel this tug between you and someone else. You draw closer. You look at each other. Closer. A few touches, at first passing it off as innocent. Then more touches. Closer.

We were so close our lips were brushing each other's as we spoke quietly. I don't remember how long the lip brushing lasted before it became kissing, but despite everything, despite the utter hell Matthew would eventually unleash on my life, I still think this is probably one of the best first-ever kisses on record.

(It wasn't his first-ever kiss. He already had an ex-boyfriend. I was his second. But it was my first-ever kiss).

Matthew wasn't my type. He had a shrill, harsh laugh. He had a giant mop of curly hair that he liked to dye. It was kind of like a clown's wig. I was still unfortunate-looking myself, please understand. He wasn't active, didn't exercise - which is fine, except all of my sexual fantasies focused on very muscular, large men. "Being young, gay, and mean isn't a personality," as the line goes. Matthew had a bit of that. But he was smart and funny, too. I shouldn't pretend he wasn't.

But I was so ready. Over-ready. I needed someone to fuck me, already, and I figured I would be lucky if anyone, anyone at all, would ever be willing to do it. So. It was Matthew because he was the first one who stepped up to the plate. Although attempts at sex were always awkward and we never really quite figured that out.

He became my boyfriend. It lasted for about four months. Because he lived 90 minutes away and was still in high school, I only saw him on weekends, but not every weekend. Maybe one weekend a month. This was 2001. Smartphones weren't a thing. Texting wasn't even really a thing. I wouldn't even own a cellphone until 2005. We messaged each other on ICQ and spoke on our landlines.

He broke up with me in January.

Did I love him? I don't know. I think I did. Or I loved the idea of him. I loved the icon I had built in his shape, a representative of all the things I wanted to achieve by Having A Boyfriend. I wanted it to affirm my sexuality. I wanted it to mean I wasn't unlovable. I wanted it to refute my mother's sadness.

It felt like a failure that I couldn't keep him. When he got a new boyfriend before I did, that felt like a failure too, like it had been a race to see who could land a new man first. Why was I thinking this way? Looking back, it's awful. I instrumentalized him, made him a symbol, and made relationships and sexual experimentation into some kind of… clout game. It wasn't about having fun and enjoying myself - it was about proving something, something to myself, something to my family, something to the world. Sex? A boyfriend? Things to acquire.

But maybe I did love him. I cried a lot, and it wasn't just over the insult to my ego and the setback to my plans. I remember distinctly walking through the underground tunnels that joined buildings on campus, thinking to myself - well, we're still friends, maybe we'll get back together in a few years. It was a story I told myself to comfort myself. It wasn't a forever breakup - he'd come back to me in a few years if I was just patient and kind, if I just waited.

When he got a new boyfriend, I needed to get one too. I found a guy on the gay.com chatroom, which is the closest thing we had to apps back then. He… had problems. Valentines was a couple of days after our first date and he got me an ostentatious bouquet of roses, an over-the-top gift that made me more uncomfortable than charmed. He already showered me with the l-word. I remember waking up in his bed, the one night I spent at his place, him slipping his dick into me. It's this hazy nocturnal memory and I'm not even sure if it's real or false. If it's real, it was my first time successfully bottoming. If it was real, he didn't use a condom.

A few days later he told me that if I ever left him he'd kill himself. I didn't know what to do. I just turned very cold, hoping he'd break up with me. It worked. He dumped me after another few days. The whole thing didn't last more than two weeks.

Matthew was still with his new boyfriend and they seemed very happy together.

So. It's clear I reacted badly.

Around the time we broke up, I moved into a basement apartment with his best friend (remember, she was also a friend of mine) and a third party who was also a good friend. Our apartment was a bit of a party house. Matthew would come into the city on weekends, and he'd stay at our apartment - because his best friend lived there, and I lived there too, and even though we had broken up we were still friends, right?

I don't know what I did to deserve what he did to me. I don't think I was ever malicious to him. If I was ever cruel, it was a clueless and unintentional kind of cruelty.

He was staying with us. I was out of the house. He went into my bedroom and went on my computer. He snooped around and found folders of niche porn that I enjoyed. Should I say what sort it was? Is it pertinent to the story? It wasn't all that weird. It was basically bodybuilders. Muscle men. Some of them photoshopped to be bigger than would otherwise be possible (some much bigger). Some of them with exaggerated genitalia (some of them very exaggerated). I also had an interest in fat guys and I know there were some pictures of that nature in there too (some of them very fat).

But he was 17 and mean and judgemental. He showed my friends my secret porn in a deliberate attempt to humiliate me. He shared it around. He let everyone know, in a cruel, mocking way, about sexual interests I didn't yet feel strong enough to share with the world. Sexual interests I still felt a lot of shame about.

I only learned about this because my other friend who shared that apartment took me aside and told me what he had done. She did this because she thought it was wrong of him.

Despite this show of support from a friend who had the good sense not to follow the current of cruel mockery, I was beyond mortified. The shame was galling.

My new gay life ended there. My clothes became drab, baggier. My manner less femme. I stopped transmitting "I'm gay!" to the world. I stopped trying to fit in with the gay crowd Matthew had introduced me to. They all had a name for me now, anyway. Psychael. Like, psychotic Michael. How could I fight a battle when the first strike was nuclear? I quit. It seemed like the only move available to me.

It was 5 years before I'd kiss another man. I fled back into the embrace of my family. My coming out was never mentioned. I basically went back into the closet. At least the people in there loved… some version of me that I could maintain without that much effort. Just… close the door on the seven months when I had been an out gay man and pretend the whole thing didn't happen. Easy.

I don't hate him.

We were both very young.

We were both inexperienced.

I would hate for someone who only knew me as an 18 year old to think of me now, in my mid thirties, as if I was the same person. So I don't think of him as he was when he was 17. He's 34 now. He's probably a much better person.

Maybe he feels sorry.

Maybe he doesn't.

I wish I could have those years back. The long years I spent frightened to be myself.

I wish I had been strong enough to look him in the face and say "so what?" I wish I had been strong enough to own my sexual interests, none of which are immoral or wrong or even all that strange.

But I was weak. I was weak and alone. And wishing doesn't get you anywhere.

I don't know if there's much point to this story.

#me

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madamebaggio · 6 years ago

Text

What is going on between Sansa Stark and Arthur Pendragon?

The whole country has been following closely Stark and Pendragon’s feud, but apparently, the line between love and hate is thinner than we’ve thought. Although some earlier reports considered the covers further provocation between the two artists, some people now think it might have been playground flirtation. Arthur is famous for his charming ways and Sansa hasn’t dated since her relationship with Joffrey Baratheon ended. So maybe what we see right now are just the sparks flying. The question is… Will they fizzle out, or are we about to see some fire?

Chapter 5

Catelyn Stark was a force of nature, there wasn’t a person in this world that was brave enough to disagree with her when she used her mom’s voice.

This was the reason that one Saturday a month, no matter where her children were, they all had to go back home to have dinner. That meant all the Stark children had to find a way to get back to Montana, no matter where the hell they were. Robb once had to fly in from London and then go back in less than 12 hours.

There were no excuses. (Sansa, Arya and Jon learned not to have concerts scheduled on the first Saturday of the month. It was that serious.)

Sansa normally loved those dinners -it meant she could see her parents and her siblings -but today...

“I just think that boy is extremely rude.” Cat Stark commented as she cut her steak.

“Arthur Pendragon is the coolest guy ever!” Rickon protested.

Cat glared at her younger son.

“He apologized.” Arya reminded everyone. “Sansa even forgave him.”

“I’ve accepted his apology, it’s different.” She indicated.

Arya arched a brow at her sister. “That’s why you two are exchanging covers now?”

Sansa showed her tongue to her sister.

“The internet likes it.” Bran commented. “They’re shipping you guys.”

Ned stopped cutting his food. “Shipping? Where to?” He asked confused.

Arya snorted, and Jon hid his grin on his napkin. “No, dad. It means they want them to be a couple.” Bran explained.

Ned frowned. “I don’t like this.”

“Dad, that’s just people talking.” Sansa assured her father, after sending a glare to Bran. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Fortunately.” Robb grumbled from his place.

Rickon and Bran started trading strange looks, then Bran shook his head urgently.

Cat arched a brow at the display. “What is going on?”

The two boys traded guilty looks. “You guys didn’t see his interview?”

“What interview?” Arya asked

“He gave an interview to a podcast.” Bran explained. “We heard it…”

Sansa threw a suspicious look at her younger brothers. She was well aware that Rickon liked Camelot, but she didn’t know Bran was also a fan.

“Did he say something about Sansa?” Robb demanded.

“Kind of…” Rickon shrugged.

“What was it?” Jon asked, clearly bothered by it.

“Jon.” Ygritte, his girlfriend, rolled her eyes. “Relax. He just talked more about the whole thing. He even apologized again.”

“Oh, that’s nice of him.” Talisa, Robb’s wife, cooed.

“You’ve heard it?” Sansa asked Ygritte.

“Yeah.” Ygritte confirmed. “It’s a cool podcast, and they have good interviews. Haven’t you checked your phone? Because it’s probably blowing up because of it.”

As a matter of fact, Sansa hadn’t checked her phone since she’d arrived at her parents’ house, because her mother always complained when they did it.

She shook her head.

“I have it here.” Bran offered.

“Show us now!” Arya demanded.

“No!” Sansa protested, but it was too late, her brother had already pulled his phone.

“I don’t like phones at the dinner table.” Cat reminded her son.

“It’s short, I promise!” Bran indicated, then just went ahead. He found whatever he was looking for, fiddled with his phone for a while and then...

“…some interesting covers.” A male voice Sansa didn’t recognize.

The chuckle that came after was all too familiar to her. “You could say that.”

“So, what’s up between you and Sansa Stark?” The man pressed.

“Just friendly banter.” Arthur replied, and she could just imagine that prick, sitting back, completely relaxed.

“People are saying your kids would look great.” The interviewer teased.

“If they took after her, they would.”

Arya snorted.

The man laughed. “And you say nothing is going on?” It was obvious he didn’t believe it.

“Nope.” He popped the p.

“But can we expect something soon?” The man pressed. “Maybe a duet?”

It was Arthur’s turn to laugh. “Who knows?” Sansa gasped at his audacity. “The thing is, I was an asshole, and I have no problem admitting it. I’ve repeatedly said I was sorry, but I’ll say once again. I shouldn’t’ve said what I did. Sansa Stark worked a lot to be here, and I have no right to call it bullshit just because my style is different.”

“People are saying you’re only apologizing because you got caught.” The man pointed out.

“I’m more concerned with Stark’s forgiveness.” Arthur threw back, completely unaffected.

“And has she forgiven you?”

“If she hasn’t, I can always cover ‘When you pass by’.”

Bran stopped the audio. All the heads turned to Sansa. “I’m going to murder him if he covers ‘When you pass by’.” She hissed.

Arya decided it was the perfect moment to laugh her ass off. “This is the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

Jon, Talisa, Ygritte and Rickon were also laughing.

“He did sound contrite.” Ned observed.

“I still don’t like him.” Cat decided.

“I second that!” Robb hurried to say.

“This is not a vote.” Sansa pointed out. “And there’ll be no more covers and definitely no duets.”

Jon opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“What?” Sansa asked, resigned. Besides, Jon was the quietest among them. If he had an opinion, normally it was worth listening to.

“I just think you guys would sound nice in a duet. Your voices would compliment each other.” He offered.

Robb protested and Sansa threw a piece of bread at her cousin. Her mother was not amused.

XxX

Sansa almost called Arthur to ask what the hell he was thinking about. He was only adding gas to a fire that was burning quite well on its own.

After dinner finished and she went to her old room to hide, she decided to check the internet to see if people were really shipping them.

Oh yes… They were.

There were some fanarts and a dozen fanfictions. It was embarrassing and it reminded her why she shouldn’t Google herself.

She didn’t read anything and ignored the terribly photoshopped montages of them.

Tomorrow it would be gone.

XxX

Why Sansa was still so optimistic was a mystery to herself. Of course nothing was gone in the morning.

It was actually worse.

God worked fast, but fangirls worked even faster.

In the few days after the interview, someone had made a fan video of one of her songs. Which, fair enough, happened sometimes. But never like this!

They picked a song from her second album -when she was under Cersei’s influence -called “Love won’t let me go”. She wasn’t fond of this song anymore, because she basically wrote it to say she loved Joffrey too much to leave, even though he was an abusive fucker.

However, they hadn’t used only her image for it. They’d used Arthur’s as well.

Shiiiiiit!!!

All in all, it was ridiculously well done, and in many moments it actually looked like they were together in scene. The person who’d done it used scenes from Sansa’s and Camelot’s music videos, a few from red carpets and even Arthur’s special participation on a biker series.

They also used some other actor and actress to complete some parts. Sansa was pretty sure some scenes with Arthur were actually shots of Scott Eastwood’s back.

It obviously wasn’t official or real, but it still looked good. A for effort and dedication.

And the person had posted and tagged them both in it.

Now, Sansa was tagged in a lot of fan posts, so she hardly ever saw them all-unfortunately- but this time, Arthur had replied to it.

“Hey, I don’t remember recording this. How drunk was I?”

Was he serious? Did he want to die?

A mischievous voice that Sansa hardly ever listened to, told her to say something clever back. He always thought he was oh so charming, right?

“Plenty, but you were very cooperative.”

That would show him.

XxX

And once again she'd overestimated Arthur's common sense. She shouldn't have encouraged him.

“Can’t believe I forgot it. Can we redo it? I don’t like my hair on this one.” He’d attached a still that was quite obviously not him, one of the parts where whoever made it used Scott Eastwood.

Who said things like that? After the interview and now with this, people were seriously thinking they were about to work together on a song.

How would something like this even work? It wouldn’t! Arthur had to stop encouraging those rumors with this type of comment.

Honestly… His agent should take over his Twitter account.

“Just answer him!” Shae insisted.

“Do not!” Brienne cut in. “I’m already drowning in phone calls. Everybody wants to know if you’ll be recording something together.”

Sansa snorted. “Sure we will. As soon as he learns how to dance.”

“Don’t say that to anyone, even as a joke.” Brienne begged.

“Let her have some fun, Brienne.” Shae rolled her eyes. “There’s a hot rockstar wanting her attention. This is the American dream.”

Brienne was clearly unamused with the idea. “I can talk to his agent if you want.” She offered Sansa.

“Please, don’t.” Sansa asked. “It’d be embarrassing, like my parents are calling his. I’ll deal with it myself.”

Brienne didn’t seem convinced. And when later Sansa tweeted a reply to Arthur -“Sure. Get your people to call mine.” - Brienne made sure to show her displeasure over text.

Sansa didn’t mind. She was having fun.

XxX

Sansa had just finished rehearsal with her uncle Benjen when she saw Shae waving her cellphone, a smirk on her lips.

She didn’t even have to ask to know who it was.

“You can’t possibly be serious.” She said by way of greeting.

“You did tell me to contact your people, Red.” Arthur drawled from the other side. “I have to say that I looked amazing in some parts of that video, not much in others.”

Sansa snorted. “You have way too much free time. Don’t you have a song to record or a beer to drink?”

“Now, that’s offensive, Stark.” Arthur said dramatically. “Is this how you see me?”

“I see you as the annoying man who won’t leave me alone.” She threw back, but there was no bite in her tone. She wondered when she started enjoying these little chats with Arthur.

“Talking about my stalking techniques…” She couldn’t hold a laughter at that. “Do you have a date for the Grammy’s?”

She leaned against the wall and glared at Shae who wasn’t even pretending not to be listening. “Yes, and his name is Benjen Stark.”

He groaned. “Fuck, I can’t compete with that.”

That made her arch a brow. “Do you want to compete with that?” Shae seemed curious about this question, and was unashamedly demanding to know what was going on.

Arthur’s chuckle was rich and made Sansa blush for some stupid reason. “If you have to ask, Stark…” He drawled. “You haven’t been paying attention.”

She was still sputtering when he say goodbye and hung up on her. Shae let out a low whistle. “That boy is good. He’s got you blushing like a school girl.”

“I think…” Sansa cleared her throat. “I think he just said he wants my attention or something…”

Shae snorted. “Darling, he’s been desperately trying to get your attention for a while now. At this point… I’m pretty sure he wants your body too.”

Sansa just gaped at Shae, getting red all over again.

Notes: There you have it!

OMG ARTHUR! Can you believe this man? lol What should Sansa do now?

A few things...

1- I thought it’d be adorable for Ned to be confused with the term ‘shipping’. I couldn’t resist.

2- “When you pass by” is another Brazilian song that is sickeningly sweet. It’s a girl saying how her heart beats when the guy she likes passes by. It’s cute and catchy. “Love won’t let me go” is another Brazilian song, this one about a girl who is suffering but can’t let go of the idiot she dates. So... ahahah i just went with them.

3- I almost made my own terrible photoshopped picture of them, but I gave up, because I suck at it (even if it was just to prove Sansa’s point about fangirls). The story about the videos is actually inspired on these fan videos we see on youtube that are glouriously well done. I myself made a few of them, but enver uploaded.

I hope you’ve enjoyed it.

Next chapter... Sansa gives an interview and Arthur realizes he’s deeper in love than he might’ve originally thougt.

Let me know your feelings.

#madame baggio #fanfiction #CrossOver #Crossover Pairings #Sansa Stark #Arthur Pendragon #game of thrones #king arthur legend of the sword #Sansa x Arthur #theres no way

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vanishcd · 5 years ago

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[[ So i’m gonna post this whole thing but I just. NEED to analyze the entire discussion between Morrell and Stiles in Battlefield. Because its such important character stuff besides being INCREDIBLY well-written.

Included are my thoughts on my Stiles and my perspectives on how he thinks, especially when it comes to how ADHD/anxiety makes you perceive things. Likes are appreciated but PLEASE ask to reblog since this feels very personal for me and my muse

Stiles: You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out. It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. But then when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's - it's actually kind of peaceful.

So this whole thing starts off with his anxiety. His way of describing things in details with both feelings and facts that makes it incredibly visceral and real. You can feel yourself underwater, you can imagine that moment he’s talking about. The pain and then the relief. (Fear and pain. Big threads in some of his emotional beats. He also FOCUSES in on those details when he’s afraid, classic anxiety symptom.)

Morrell: Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments Stiles: I don't feel sorry for him. Morrell: Can you feel sorry for the nine - year - old Matt who drowned? Stiles: Just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim doesn't really give him the right to go off killing them one by one.

He has no sympathy for Matt. Not after what he’s done to everyone. Not for what Stiles perceives as a dumb, if awful, fluke and Matt’s personal offense/inability to get over it.

The punishment should fit the crime and his noting of "one by one" points out that Matt has been calculating this. For something ambiguous and one time, if traumatic. It's a conflict with Stiles' sense of what justice is. Matt also attacked him, his friends, Scott, his dad, and Melissa. That alone means Stiles can’t excuse, reason, forgive, or sympathize. But then--

Stiles: And by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Matt's computer. And not just of her though. I mean, he photoshopped himself into these pictures. Stuff like them holding hands and kissing. You know, like he had built this whole fake relationship. So yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails, but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train.

here’s the thing. Despite having general/social anxiety and ADHD, Stiles isn't forgiving of mistakes/cruelty because of mental illness. Yes, even though he fully knows his own issues have caused shit. Even knowing it's a POWERFUL motivator. But he has a LOW opinion of someone who uses trauma/illness to lash out purely for revenge. Especially over something that as he said was the result of kids being stupid

Even without this, he would hate Matt simply for being a creepy af stalker, not only CREATING this delusion of him w Allison but ACTING ON IT. Anyone who pulls that shit is LOW. And it was toward one of his closest friends.

He also happens to be deflecting, talking about others instead of himself (which is of course the whole point of a counseling session). He’s not just rambling cause he’s angry/disgusted and has a tendency to. He’s JUSTIFYING himself through it, which means he’s on the defensive and doesn’t want to open up to Morrell.

Morrell: One positive thing came out of this, though. Right? Stiles: Yeah. Yeah, but I still feel like there's something wrong between [him and his dad]. I don't know. It's just like tension when we talk.

The first moment he opens up, maybe because the guilt of STILL not saying anything about the supernatural to his dad is TOO MUCH. It's one of the heaviest burdens he's carried. So even though Stilinski got his position as sheriff back, Stiles still feels like he's to blame.

Interesting thing to note is that the topic of his dad is the one thing he consistently opens up to people to. Showing vulnerability doesn't matter when it's his dads ANYTHING at stake. And he's ok showing that to Morrell both cause it's not focused on moving forward and his own feelings, but because it's actually something that he feels he needs help with. Because their relationship means too much.

The tension could also be alluding to the hallucination he had at Lydias party (despite the fact that he obviously doesn't TELL her about it) I can write a whole essay on that scene but the scene, real or not, clearly weighs on Stiles. And with anxiety, it's easy to fall into the mindset that your fears are real, they just aren't being SPOKEN. Even when you KNOW without a DOUBT that the person doesn't feel that way, it sticks in your mind and messes with your perception. Stiles is aware his perception could be skewed from stress.

Stiles: [Scott’s] got his own problems to deal with though: I don't think he's talked to Allison either. But that might be more her choice, you know. Her mom dying hit her pretty hard. But I guess it brought her and her dad closer. Jackson? Jackson hasn't really been himself lately. Actually the funny thing is, as of right now, Lydia is the one who seems the most normal.

As Morrell is about to silently observe by asking about him, Stiles is once again deflecting the topic to everyone elses trauma and avoiding talking about how he feels. Just what he’s observed and his judgement about it. And his comments can be perceived as pretty neutral despite how much he cares for 3 of the 4 people who are going through hell with him.

Morrell: And what about you, Stiles? Feeling some anxiety about that championship game tomorrow night? Stiles: Why would you ask me that? Ah. Uh, no. I - I never actually play. But hey, since one of my teammates is dead and another one's missing, who knows, right?

AGAIN he deflects. He knows she's digging for “im feeling anxious” and admittance that HE isn't ok. And not only denies it on reflex but then takes the leading part and uses that for the topic. Again he talks about others and uses dry sarcasm to make himself more comfortable.

Morrell: You mean, Isaac. One of the three runaways. You haven't heard from any of them, have you? Stiles: How come you're not taking any notes on this? Morrell: I do my notes after the session. Stiles: Your memory's that good?

Deflect; and this time because she doesnt give up, he turns the topic to HER. Most people will let you ramble about others but when you start making observations about THEM, particularly what they’re doing at the moment or their professionalism, they get defensive. Even if its a word or two, it’s enough to give him an “advantage”.

And it’s, as becomes the ultimate point, him fishing for time.

Morrell: How about we get back to you? Stiles? Stiles: --I'm fine. Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible's about to happen.

And there's the moment he finally breaks. He knows she's not gonna let him go, she's directly observing his anxiety. And there's a slight pause before she says his name. For the first time, shes directly giving him permission to speak, instead of asking prying questions. He could deny it. And he does, but in the obvious way that's just a lead in to his feelings.

He's at a point in the conversation and the situation that he doesn't have any other option. And even though his tone is harsh, it's honest. Because he's scared and suddenly realizes they covered everyone, and no one is left to help.

Morrell: It's called hyper - vigilance, the persistent feeling of being under threat. Stiles: But it's not just a feeling, though. It's - it's like it's a panic attack. You know, like I can't even breathe. Morrell: Like you're drowning? Stiles: Yeah. Morrell: So if you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment, what if you choose to not open your mouth? To not let the water in? Stiles: You do anyway. It's a reflex. Morrell: But if you hold off until that reflex kicks in, you have more time, right? Stiles: Not much time. Morrell: But more time to fight your way to the surface? Stiles: I guess.

He has a way with words. He's been rambling this whole time. But his description of a panic attack is the last vivid bit for several lines. Trying to get across his desperation.

Then he goes to simple answers. "Yeah" and "I guess" because when he feels so lost, he gets quiet.

Stiles is very pragmatic AND emotional. He thinks with both but rationalizes. "It's a reflex" and "not much time" is his logical side kicking in, but in that way it's counterproductive because anxiety. You search for an answer, a relief from your fear, and when it's GIVEN, you don't quite know what to do with it. So you rationalize your own helplessness because you've fallen into that pattern of logical thinking combined with fear. That's what makes an anxious mind spin out.

Morrell: More time to be rescued? Stiles: More time to be in agonizing pain. I mean, did you forget about the part where you feel like your head's exploding? Morrell: If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it? Stiles: But what if it just gets worse? What if it's agony now and then - and it's just hell later on?

Stiles fears pain. And I think it's not the pain specifically, it's the idea of it being the last thing, an extended thing. Emotional or physical (who wouldn’t?) And then he rationalizes with facts again to prove his point. This is the crux of MANY anxieties. That you aren't strong enough to get through, that it won't end, that there's no hope.

Morrell is having none of it. She won't let him give up on HOPE.

Morrell: Then think about something Winston Churchill once said - "If you're going through hell, keep going."

Know why that got through to him? Because it's simple and factual and makes him realize--it's the only thing you CAN do. It's not exactly hope for him but determination. Will to keep going for a little longer

And the truth is, that's all you CAN do in some horrible situations. You feel hopeless, useless. But to quote another favorite tv show "believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing."

Hope, hope for hope, will get you through. It can be more painful than anything in the world, but it's also the ONE THING that lets you get thought when EVERYTHING ELSE has failed.

And as Morrell says, if you can survive, isn't it worth it?

#ooc #save #;Hollowed Boy #this is largely based on my own observations and headcanons #but i feel this its p accurate #headcanon

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