#You’re telling me I am about to be the same exact person but fundamentally changed from who I was a year before?

[malt-rants-and-stuff]

Like two hours before my birthday and the existential dread is kicking in… what the fuck….

[punkscowardschampions]

Ruster pt.2

Buster: It would be seriously cruel of me to wait until we’re alone to touch you when we’ve talked about what everyone knowing you’re mine means to you and how closely you want to be kept

Buster: whilst we’re sitting with my parents, I’ll make sure we’re no more than [the length of his longest finger like when he told her his dick measurement because again just saying he’ll be inside her all the time, this time via fingering under the table] inches apart at the most

Buster: [and then because he is a big nerd doing some maths of his own about it, here measuring the exact length of every finger he is gonna use and adding them together and finding an average or something idk, you know what I mean, it’s shamelessly an excuse to give her all the reminders of earlier and how he’s gonna touch her when he finally can but writing it down as a sum with all his working out and everything so she can follow his thinking exactly]

Rio: 😳😳😳 I feel so

Rio: Why would you do this to me?

Rio: I can barely be quiet here alone, and you think I can in front of your parents, fuck 😿

Buster: What do I always say? Practice makes perfect, baby

Buster: if you can do it now, you’ll be able to do it then

Rio: I’ll need to

Rio: [whatever lesson you’re in] is as deadly silent as it is boring

Buster: Think about the length of my tongue and how it’ll feel inside of you when we’re finally alone and you’re lying on top of the same table

Rio: You can’t think about anything else 

Buster: It’s an obsession

Rio: Yours

Buster: Mine

Rio: My hands should be in your hair right now, that’s mine, how unfairly beautiful you are

Buster: We’ll share each others once they’ve been allowed to happen

Rio: I want to share everything with you

Buster: You know I won’t hesitate to give you everything you want

Rio: I know

Rio: The issue is knowing when to stop asking

Buster: That’s simple, don’t ever stop

Rio: You say that now

Buster: I’m not going to change my mind

Rio: I’m scared that you will

Buster: Well, I’ll prove to you that isn’t true

Rio: You don’t have to

Rio: There has to be space for either of us to change our minds

Buster: Not about something that fundamental, I’d become a different person

Rio: Aren’t you scared?

Buster: There’s nothing to be scared of, if something goes wrong again, I’ll find a solution, that’s what I do

Rio: Basically every example you gave had things go wrong, for years at a time sometimes

Rio: I don’t know if I can handle it, letting you go

Buster: We aren’t letting each other go, no matter what

Rio: Do you mean it

Rio: will you mean it when you’re in America? [however many miles it is] away from me?

Buster: If I go to America, you can hold me to it even harder because I’ll mean it more

Rio: I don’t want to be crazy but I feel it

Buster: What you are is in love

Rio: I know 

Rio: I know because nothing else is registering, this lesson, what’s being said by my friends, or by everyone else, even

Buster: I can’t concentrate either, and you know how unlike me that is

Rio: Do you want to? 

Rio: I’ll find a way to resist messaging you until your next break

Buster: No, I want to focus on you until you’re here with me and I really can

Rio: You have changed

Buster: I haven’t, you just didn’t know how much time or attention I devoted to you before 

Rio: Well, I do think it’s pretty rude of you not to have told me

Buster: I told you as soon as I could

Rio: Just saying, there’s so much time to be made up for

Buster: Yeah, I’ve said it too

Rio: This half-term is a start

Buster: Tell me how long we have again

Rio: [do in every measurement of time you can break it into]

Buster: You’re incredible

Rio: I want you for [and pop off with infinity maths nerdiness, you know the vibe because forever]

Rio: All your seconds

Buster: They’re all yours

Rio: You are

Buster: I am

Rio: No one else's

Buster: I wouldn’t dare and couldn’t be dared

Rio: You can’t want anyone else, it’s impossible

Buster: I never have, not for a second

Rio: Neither have I, never will

Buster: You’re all I want, I’ll keep repeating myself until you’re not scared

Rio: All I’m scared of is that one day not being true

Rio: I could never be scared of this, it’s so mutual, this want

Buster: You still believe I’ll get bored of you, could fall out of this, but that’s impossible, you said it yourself

Rio: I know that life can throw things out that we can’t expect to see coming at our age

Buster: Life already did and we’re closer not further apart

Rio: And I hope that’s what happens every time

Buster: Share my faith that it will, you want us to share everything

Rio: My nan would love you

Rio: but okay, I will

Buster: Good

Buster: because I love you

Rio: I love you, Buster

Buster: And I miss you so much

Rio: I know, but I like missing you with you much more than missing you alone

Buster: Me too, even though shared means it should be halved, but in fact it feels doubled, if anything

Rio: We’re finally acknowledging it, before, we could lie to each other, everyone else, it at least works partially on ourselves too

Buster: We let ourselves properly feel this, no holds barred

Rio: Missing you still feels better than the alternative of ignoring you, a hundred times over

Buster: No going back, you could barely ignore me before, you’d have no hope now

Rio: Um, you were actively trying to get my attention, excuse you

Buster: I always will be, including in the hypothetical rewind

Rio: You’re pretty worthy of attention, honestly

Buster: Thankfully, as I badly need yours

Rio: You’ve had it all your life, who else can say that’s true

Buster: A hundred lives wouldn’t be enough

Rio: You’re being poetic again, I already need you

Buster: I can’t help how true it is

Rio: I’ll be yours in every lifetime, I promise

Buster: If you’re as flawless in every one as you are in this, you have to

Rio: I’ll find you

Rio: we’re born to always be connected, however that happens to be, I believe that

Buster: So do I, I’d fight for you

Rio: You already are, against what everyone wants

Buster: I don’t regret anything, remember that

Rio: I’d do it all again, no matter what

Buster: We will, every life, like you promised

Rio: Even if we were twins, you’re my soulmate before you’re anything else

Buster: I wish could swap you for her, for longer than [however long they have]

Rio: Me too, I used to be so jealous of how close I thought you were, ‘til I quickly realised you weren’t

Buster: It took me ages after we moved here to rid myself of that association, everyone assumed we were

Rio: It’s usually not the case, the girls aren’t

Rio: we would be but we’re special

Buster: Ours would, they’d be special as well

Rio: They’d learn from the best

Rio: we’d all be the closest

Buster: We’d all be perfect

Rio: I need to give you so many babies

Rio: the most perfect family

Buster: I need to give them to you

Rio: Waiting will be sweet agony

Buster: We’ll practise a lot

Rio: It’s necessary 

Buster: We want to do it right, after all

Rio: Perfect, like you said

Buster: I like our odds

Rio: Me too

Rio: I just understand why everyone struggled to wait before us

Buster: What you said about things not being easy but being doable for us nevertheless applies here, yeah

Rio: We’ve waited this long for this part, there’s no rushing

Buster: I’d hate to, you should be savoured, every part of this with you

Rio: We’ll learn how together

Buster: You’re the only person who’s managed to teach me some patience thus far 

Rio: I’ll take it 🤓

Buster: You’re supposed to tell me what I’ve taught you

Rio: Oh, hmm

Rio: You might have to wait a minute 

Buster: I see, you’re testing what I said a minute ago

Rio: That and the list would take me too long to write, obviously

Buster: You’re obviously not writing what you’re meant to be, go ahead

Rio: Of course you want it unabridged 

Buster: I’ll wait

Rio: Now you’re being kinda hot

Rio: definitely hotter than [your actual teacher right now lol]

Buster: That’s definitely the most backhanded compliment you’ve ever paid me

Rio: You don’t know, maybe [teacher] is extremely attractive but still no match for you

Buster: Are they?

Rio: No, sadly not but the sentiment is still there

Buster: Don’t be too sad about it or I’ll get jealous and possessive as my sentiments

Rio: How terrible

Buster: For [this poor teacher lol]

Rio: 😍

Buster: Future lawyers know better than to incriminate themselves, but you know me, use your imagination

Rio: You know me and my imagination

Buster: Intimately 

Rio: You’ve taught me what that actually feels like

Rio: not forced and pretend

Buster: I’d put that pretty high on my own list of things you’ve taught me, maybe at the very top

Rio: It’s a good one

Rio: I feel different for knowing, but in a good way

Buster: We’re only changing in the best ways

Rio: Promise that’s true?

Buster: Worse isn’t an option, ever

Rio: It could be, so easily

Buster: I swear, I won’t let it be

Rio: Thanks

Buster: You don’t need to thank me, babe, you’re doing the same for me

Rio: I feel closer to the edge of complete fucking mess than you, babe but

Rio: Yeah, of course I swear too

Buster: Right now, but as you’ve pointed out plenty of times, we can’t be completely sure what the future holds, my turn could be coming next

Buster: and as I’ve pointed out, I need you regardless

Rio: But I only want you to think I’m incredible 

Rio: I only want to be perfect for you

Buster: Which is what I do think, Rio

Buster: you’re the furthest from being a mess, you’re holding it together when many others in your position would’ve folded and given up

Buster: you’re such a strong and resilient person, I want you to realise that

Rio: I wish I felt that, felt strong

Rio: if anyone could make me, it would be you 

Rio: I just don’t know if it’s possible right now

Buster: It’s okay, trust me, that I know you and I see things in you that you don’t, it’s something else you already do for me and can be mutual for us

Rio: I see you, you see me, that’s true, always has been

Rio: I somehow feel exposed and invisible to everyone here now, my name is only brought up with theirs 

Buster: In London everyone’ll be staring at you for the right reasons, all they’ll know is how beautiful you are, maybe they’ll be wondering where they’ve seen you, but that’s because your likeness belongs in a gallery on a wall or as a statue

Buster: and they’ll only hear your name the way I say it

Rio: Even your compliments are refined

Rio: How do you come up with this stuff?

Buster: It comes from you, I’m stating the facts, that’s all

Rio: You’re my favourite nerd

Buster: I���ll take it

Rio: You’ve heard the rest

Buster: Have I?

Rio: Okay, not everything but haven’t I complimented you a lot in the past [however many hours you’ve been together]?

Buster: You do the maths, you’re very good at it

Rio: I’m hearing no amount of compliments is enough for you, I understand

Buster: Other people can stop, but not you

Rio: I can’t stop

Buster: Don’t

Rio: I never will

Buster: Promise

Rio: You deserve constant praise, I mean that and swear to treat you exactly how I should for our whole lives

Buster: I really hope you put that in your bath vows

Rio: As you like it, of course

Rio: I’ll make a shortlist instead of doing [whatever lesson you’re in]

Buster: I’ll write mine in the margins of [whatever expensive af textbook you have for your lesson because love to put things in books clearly we remember that with the childhood photo]

Rio: I’ll get to spend even more time in your mind

Buster: Even [whichever lesson you hate the most] will be bearable

Rio: The time is going to fly by

Buster: And soon you’ll be flying to me

Rio: It seems crazy that everyone thinks it’s such a good idea, that I’m allowed

Buster: Of course they do, it is such a good idea

Rio: As far as they’re aware, sure

Buster: As far as we’re concerned too though

Rio: We’ve got the full picture

Buster: So do they, like I’ve said before, they see what they want to

Rio: It is obvious I’m not going for Nance right now

Buster: You should hate her, from a POV as detached as theirs that’s apparent

Rio: Hate might be strong but her lack of tact is known, before this even, it’s not a reach to imagine how she’s being

Buster: Going to her birthday party as though she isn’t tactless and self-centred would be more inappropriate than anything we’re going to do

Rio: I hope not, like

Buster: You know what I mean, nothing about this is a mistake and that would be

Rio: You want me to say how right it is

Buster: You have, but I’m not opposed to hearing it again, obviously

Rio: Nothing or nobody else makes sense for me, we’re a perfect match

Buster: Perfect isn’t the word, we do need a stronger one

Rio: Soulmates

Buster: Yeah

Rio: We need a stronger word than yeah, definitely

Buster: Well, that depends how I’m saying it

Rio: Go on then

Buster: [do such an indecent voice note about this, I hope you’ve gone somewhere where there isn’t a class full of peeps in earshot, knowing you probably the corridor outside of it because you have no patience or chill lol]

Rio: 😍😍😍

Rio: IOU a truth or dare

Buster: Save yours for the plane

Rio: Don’t forget

Rio: You do need to keep me entertained the entire hour and 25

Buster: You could nap, you owe me one of those, remember

Rio: Now?

Buster: I was thinking to kill 25 minutes of the flight, but I suppose you have more time to kill now

Rio: Why do you want me to nap so bad?

Buster: You hardly slept

Rio: I’ve had worse nights sleep

Rio: I promise I’m fine

Buster: Not since you’ve been my girlfriend

Rio: You’re the most loving

Buster: I’m responsible for looking after you

Rio: When am I meant to stop getting turned on by it? Because I never want to

Buster: Also never

Rio: Even when you’re a real daddy?

Buster: Especially then

Rio: I’ll only share you with our kids

Buster: I’ll only make you share with them

Rio: Mine first

Buster: And always

Rio: Did you keep my picture as your background?

Buster: [show her that you have because ofc you have]

Rio: The idea of that being seen over your shoulder 🥴

Buster: I’m looking forward to hearing your ideas about the photos we can take together

Rio: We need some updated ones, to go with [your fave childhood ones you’ve mentioned]

Buster: That’s a nice thought, recreating that one when I’m back in Dublin for your birthday

Rio: We have to

Buster: Don’t worry, I’ve made a mental note 

Rio: I’ll recreate my outfit

Buster: Your mum probably still has it stored somewhere

Rio: God, probably…

Buster: Whereas, mine definitely doesn’t

Rio: I bet you still have something near identical in your big size though

Rio: you haven’t changed

Buster: My impeccable style has no need to

Rio: Nor your cute face

Buster: You want me to be red-faced in [whatever lesson he is in], but that’s something I can only do in front of you

Rio: 🤐 promise

Buster: Unlikely, unless you are planning to go to sleep

Rio: Cheek!

Buster: I love it about you

Rio: You don’t think I’m like your sister, do you

Buster: Christ no, that comparison couldn’t be further from what I think

Rio: I’m never speaking for the sake of it, especially not with you

Buster: Every word you say, or type, is worth listening to, and I want to be the person who is

Buster: first, like you said

Rio: I love you, talking with you

Buster: When was the last time we talked in person?

Rio: Summer? Maybe?

Rio: Not enough in forever

Buster: I owe you so many conversations

Rio: It’s mutual

Rio: all the minutes wasted stopping myself and hanging back from approaching you 

Buster: Do the maths for me

Rio: Tell me how high up the list of obsessions it is first

Buster: You know how obsessed I am with this

Rio: [do try and work it out from all the angles you could because giving how much you wanted to talk to him and how restrained you were this whole time etc, obsessed is certainly the vibe however you look at it]

Buster: Fuck

Buster: you truly never disappoint

Rio: Thinking about how long we’ve wanted and waited is another obsession

Rio: the answers come easy, honestly

Buster: Almost as easily as the solutions have and will

Rio: We both know what a good idea it is

Buster: I’ve got what I’m going to do to you down to a fine art

Rio: You’ve thought about it for so long, every way you can have me

Buster: Over and over, as if I’m incapable of having any other thoughts

Rio: That’s how it feels, once I let myself go there, I don’t know when I’ll be able to stop

Buster: I forget where I am, who I’m with, how much time has passed, everything

Rio: We’ve already seen the sun come up together so many nights 

Buster: Which is just as well, because the last time I can be certain I’ll notice anything else is [the night before she arrives]

Rio: We don’t need to, we need to be together

Buster: I need to look at you for hours

Rio: I want to memorise you, every second

Buster: Commit me to memory, I want us to commit to each other in every possible way there is

Rio: I want that too, badly

Buster: Write my name on you again

Rio: [do that, somewhere you can cover with your skirt but get to right now without fully flashing so it’s at danger of peeking out at any moment lowkey more than if you left the room and did it somewhere really private]

Buster: [likewise do hers, I’m imagining on his wrist cos we know how this boy feels about a wrist grab being a child of baze, so that it’s covered by his shirt sleeve but is in the same danger of peeking out because they love it, deliberately using a pen with more staying power than the fountain pen he used before to match the temporary lipstick vibe cos gotta see how long we can keep this]

Rio: I’m going to look so obsessed with myself, going between staring at my own thighs to my name on you 

Buster: You should be obsessed with yourself as well as with me

Rio: You’re always number one to me

Buster: Make me happy by validating my great taste then, love yourself as much as I love you

Rio: You’ll make me blush

Buster: Look at yourself once you do and that’ll prove my point

Rio: I don’t not like myself, it’s just complicated right now

Buster: I know, but I’m determined to uncomplicate it

Rio: I’ll let you

Buster: You won’t regret anything you let me do

Rio: You know there are no limits

Buster: The only rules are the ones we decide together

Rio: We’re 👑

Buster: Exactly, I told you, it’s simple

Buster: you’re royalty, treat yourself like that

Rio: I feel better for having your name on me

Buster: Wait a few years and you can have my name permanently on you

Rio: How will we ever decide where to put it permanently though

Buster: By putting it everywhere in pen until then and seeing how each place feels

Rio: How it makes you feel, that’s what I care about

Buster: I’ll show you

Rio: [drawing a B on your hand and doing lovey-dovey doodles]

Buster: [sending her a selfie of his heart eyes as if he isn’t in class lol, defs doing it so she can also see her name peeping out on his arm]

Rio: [change your background to that picture immediately and show him]

Buster: I’ve never smiled in [this lesson] before

Rio: That makes me happy, I want to make you smile everywhere

Buster: You’ll completely ruin my reputation, babe

Rio: You did say you were ready for that

Buster: I feel ready

Rio: I’m prepared to be yours in secret if we change our minds

Buster: I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to keep you, as a secret or not

Rio: Exactly

Rio: don’t think I’ll leave if everything doesn’t go exactly as we’ve said, because I won’t, the reality is more important, whatever it is

Buster: The reality is, I love you and I want this, us

Rio: I love you

Rio: the only thing standing in our way is other people but we can only pretend they don’t exist for so long

Buster: And those people can only stand in our way for so long

Rio: Your friends know how to overstay a welcome

Rio: but they should be so out of it you won’t need to be shy about it

Buster: I know how to make someone feel unwelcome, if you want them to leave rather than stay for how bold I am

Rio: I’m not scared

Buster: You’re a brave girl

Rio: Your brave girl

Rio: who makes no promises of being able to leave you alone

Buster: You promised not to leave my side

Rio: I can’t, I need to celebrate with you

Buster: And I need to celebrate you more than I do my birthday

Rio: It doesn’t bother me at all what your friends think, you’re my boyfriend

Buster: They’re barely my friends, their opinions don’t matter

Rio: I’m only slightly concerned that Nance won’t be as drunk as we think, that’s it

Buster: Think of as many drinking games as you can, I’ll do the same

Rio: I’d feel bad, if it wasn’t what she wanted

Buster: Keep in mind her lack of sympathy for you or your family

Rio: I am, she’s getting blackout

Buster: And sleeping it off in [whichever room in the baze gaff is the furthest from his but still somewhere he could feasibly leave a drunk Nancy]

Rio: Then I get you, all to myself

Buster: Finally

Rio: The others were always there, it’s never been just us

Buster: Rewriting it in my head could only achieve so much

Rio: Because everyone knows, what’s going to happen the second we are, it’s always been this way

Buster: Inevitable

Rio: No one is getting between us this time

Buster: We’ve planned for all eventualities, learnt lessons from each of those frustrating previous times

Rio: I can’t care, how I did, I can’t pretend that I’d stop for anyone

Rio: Only you can tell me no at this point

Buster: I’m only going to tell you yes

Rio: Even if I want to touch you right back under that table with your parents?

Buster: Emphatically if that’s what you want to do

Rio: I can’t let you just get me off when I know you’ll be aching too

Buster: Maybe I’ll get used to it once I’ve sat at this desk all day

Rio: I should be under it

Buster: You’re small enough to fit perfectly

Rio: I would stay there all day, I’m serious about how much I would love nothing more

Buster: You love to be hidden in plain sight

Rio: I know how happy it would make you, I can imagine your face perfectly

Buster: I can imagine yours, happy isn’t the word

Rio: My mouth would be too busy to smile, it might be an obsession 

Buster: Your eyes would, I’d have to change my phone background immediately

Rio: You know I’d have never looked better, happier

Buster: Neither of us have known happiness like that yet

Rio: But we’re going to know it every day

Buster: I refuse to let you go to bed upset like last night

Rio: You’re responsible, my favourite man

Buster: You’re precious to me

Rio: I’m your baby

Buster: Until you give me one

Rio: But after too, your biggest and most jealous

Buster: You said you’d share, no jealousy

Rio: Fine, no jealousy, just feed me your cum whilst you feed our baby

Buster: Going from princess to queen isn’t something to pout about

Rio: You have to love me most your whole life, I belong to you

Buster: My whole life will revolve around you, you’ll have given most of it to me

Rio: I’ll follow you, to America, I’d follow you anywhere

Buster: America’s just a possibility, you’re not

Rio: I’m sorry for last night, just let me say it because I am, I freaked out because it’s so clear what I want

Buster: I understand, I’ve been there myself 

Rio: It’s bound to happen, who wouldn’t worry when they know that they’d be so fucking happy shackled to their cousin’s bed if that’s what he needed

Buster: It’s a lot to want, but you don’t need to worry, you know that now

Rio: I meant that, I’m not scared, of you, of this

Rio: You love me, the only thing to be really scared of was that not being true

Buster: As soon as I knew what love meant, I knew I loved you

Rio: I’ve been yours since that moment, I knew I could rely on you like I couldn’t my other daddy

Buster: He doesn’t deserve to be called that

Rio: I know, old habits

Buster: If I ever hurt you like he does, I’d hurt myself way worse somehow

Rio: I never want you hurt

Buster: Then I better not let you down

Rio: You’re incapable, I swear, you love me too much

Buster: Yeah, I do, I swear

Rio: I want it to be our 18th, now

Buster: I’d marry you now, you’d have no time to plan anything

Rio: Our school shirts are white, what else do we need?

Buster: Mine won’t be if I bite my lip as hard as that idea makes me need to

Rio: If it were the olden days, I’d have to bleed for you

Rio: and everyone would agree I’m your rightful bride

Buster: Everyone would be stood around the bed watching you not bleed because of how much you want me

Rio: Imagine how they’d go and copy what we did, how many people we would have cumming

Buster: How many babies would be born

Rio: Our family even bigger, all because of us

Buster: I don’t think anyone else could actually copy a single thing you do though, not really

Rio: That’s why you want me, no mistresses

Buster: I’d send them all away

Rio: They can watch, only as punishment

Buster: Very fitting

Rio: Clean me up, not you

Buster: Why am I being punished by not being the one to clean you up?

Rio: You made the mess, you’re king, you don’t have to

Buster: But I do have to

Rio: You should be here when I get up

Rio: I know this chair is going to need licking clean

Buster: I’m jealous of whoever sits in it after you, they don’t even realise yet how lucky they are

Rio: You want me to leave it? 

Buster: As the alternative is me getting on a flight and telling you not to move a muscle before the plane lands, which I unfortunately can’t

Rio: I’ll let you clean my dining room chair before you put me on the table

Buster: Promise not to fall off while I’m busy

Rio: I’ll be mesmerized, easy promise

Buster: I’ll hold you still, I’m never that busy

Rio: You’re going to make sure you get every last drop

Buster: Of course, every drop is mine

Rio: You’re such a cumslut, I am obsessed

Buster: I don’t share my toys and you’re my favourite

Rio: You never have to share me again

Buster: You know I won’t, anyone who looks at you for too long at the party is dead to me

Rio: 🥰

Rio: You’ll have to check alone because I’m not looking away from you

Buster: You can watch what happens to them by staring into my eyes

Rio: That’s the hottest and most romantic thing you’ve said simultaneously 

Buster: It would kill me to deny you anything

Rio: You would never, you could barely keep to it when that was the unspoken agreement 

Buster: That bullshit was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do

Rio: Hard agree

Buster: Tell me how many hours we have left, because this waiting game honestly feels like a ridiculously close second

Rio: [tell him] 🙄 

Rio: How do we usually go months? I’ve forgotten every trick I knew to make it okay

Buster: I’ll think of new tricks, you’ll be okay

Rio: Will I?

Buster: I’ll make sure you are

Rio: Okay

Buster: And you’ll make me proud

Rio: Shh

Buster: Absolutely not

Rio: Have you gotten any work done today?

Buster: My work’ll all get done

Rio: Hmm, not an answer

Buster: You don’t need to worry about me, there’s your answer

Rio: You worry about me, isn’t it meant to be mutual?

Buster: Come on, I’m going to be offered admission to Harvard, school isn’t a concern 

Rio: That’s years away, nothing is guaranteed, boy 

Buster: I’ll guarantee it with years of hard work and good grades

Rio: Good, then I don’t need to worry, do I

Buster: I told you

Rio: Don’t be a know-it-all

Buster: Don’t be rude

Rio: You’re ruder

Buster: I am not

Rio: You are

Rio: What about my work? You’ve not even asked

Buster: Because we’ve already discussed priorities, I trust you to behave, in school or anywhere else, with or without me

Buster: I don’t call you my angel for no reason

Rio: You haven’t called me that in ages

Rio: Far too long, in fact 

Buster: Do your work and I won’t have a choice but to

Rio: 😒 FINE 

Rio: I don’t know where I am though, just with you

Buster: If you can’t follow the lesson, I’ll help you with your homework later

Rio: I’m not surprised that’s a fantasy you have 

Buster: Don’t you want to study with me?

Rio: Didn’t say that

Buster: Say you do

Rio: Of course I do

Rio: you’re one of the smartest people I know

Buster: You’re one of the smartest people I know

Rio: It’ll be easy work for us

Buster: Easy isn’t the word

Rio: What is

Buster: Perhaps I’ll write you a list

Rio: Perhaps you ought to focus on tutoring me

Buster: Okay, tell me the last thing you remember being able to focus on from this class

Rio: 😶

Buster: Come on, there must be something

Rio: Haven’t we been talking this entire time? You come on

Buster: I’m flattered

Rio: As you should be

Rio: don’t worry, nothing important is being learnt, I can tell that much from everyone else

Buster: I’ll teach you everything you need to know anyway

Rio: We can make time to do all the work you need, within reason, of course

Buster: Nothing unreasonable, this is your holiday

Rio: Our birthday

Buster: Yeah

Rio: Let’s do everything together, whatever mundane everyday thing we can think of

Buster: I can’t think of a single thing that wouldn’t be better done with you

Rio: It’ll be like playing house, but

Rio: realer

Buster: We both need real

Rio: Everything has been so real it all seems fake, distant now

Rio: not my real, you know?

Rio: We’re the right kind

Buster: I’m glad I can be that for you

Rio: No pressure, yeah

Rio: that sounded less intense in my head

Buster: I thrive under pressure, remember

Rio: No, not cool of me

Rio: I have to rein it in

Buster: Don’t

Rio: Not pulling away again but enough

Buster: Enough for what?

Rio: Enough to be fun and not scary

Buster: I’m not scared, you know that

Rio: That doesn’t mean I want to be scary to test you

Buster: You don’t have to rein yourself in to protect me

Rio: I don’t want to lose myself, my grip on reality and feet on the ground

Rio: except, I do want that but it’s a dangerous thing to want and I know that now

Buster: You aren’t going to lose anything, there’s only everything to gain

Rio: How do you know that?

Buster: Call it ego if you like, you definitely would’ve before

Rio: If the shoe fits, like

Buster: On the other hand, I’d prefer to say I like you too much to let any parts of you go

Rio: I like you 

Rio: I’m not spiralling, not here 

Buster: Curl around me as soon as you’re here, we’ll create our own spiral

Rio: God, [countdown] go faster 

Rio: I need you like that

Buster: I need all of you not some watered down version, if you feel like you have to do that bullshit, I’ve failed

Rio: It isn’t you, you know it’s not you 

Buster: No, it’s you, how indescribably great you are

Buster: But I have to let you know that or I’m not doing enough

Rio: You are letting me know that

Rio: it’s not us, it’s everything else, how that weighs

Buster: Shrinking yourself smaller will just mean you’ll struggle to carry it

Rio: No one expected it to happen to her

Rio: unspoken but undeniable I’m the ideal candidate 

Buster: You think it should’ve been you because you want the chance to take her place, she’s your sister and you wish you could spare her what she’s been through

Buster: that’s a normal response, there’s no more to those thoughts, and there certainly isn’t truth to them

Rio: [a moment to excuse yourself from this lesson real quick because you gotta]

Rio: I’m still here

Rio: I don’t know what to say though, and that’s to you, what will I say to her? When she wants us to visit her, if she ever does

Buster: You’ll find the words

Buster: but if you couldn’t at first, Edie wouldn’t hold a temporary silence against you, not after asking to see you

Rio: She isn’t going to ask, not for me

Buster: Come on, you don’t know that

Rio: I do, when has she ever?

Buster: Things have changed

Rio: You could certainly say that

Buster: All bets are off

Rio: That’s not going to be comforting, however you put it

Buster: I’ll be here to comfort you whatever happens

Rio: I know

Rio: as long as she’s getting help and support, it isn’t about me

Buster: You’re allowed to want to visit her

Rio: If she doesn’t want it though, I won’t, not for my own sake

Buster: Obviously not, you’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met

Rio: You really think so?

Buster: Thinking about it used to make me really angry

Rio: You thought it was holier than thou, I get it

Buster: But now I do get it

Rio: Being any other way makes no sense to me, it wouldn’t occur 

Buster: You take after your mum

Rio: I guess so

Rio: I don’t know how she carries on though, every time

Rio: I don’t have that in me

Buster: You are carrying on

Rio: Am I?

Rio: I came running to you the second I could

Buster: She has people she leans on too, everyone does, even my mum

Rio: This time, for now, sure

Rio: but how great did those people turn out to be, you’ve already pointed out happily that my da sucks too

Buster: You’ve undeniably got better taste

Rio: It isn’t funny

Buster: I’m not joking, I’ve already also pointed out we have the luxury of learning from their mistakes

Buster: no one’s happier than I am that I’m not as traumatised as my parents are

Rio: You don’t have to be so arrogant about it

Buster: I’m being honest, I haven’t exaggerated my importance or capabilities, I don’t need to

Rio: It’s just smug, alright

Buster: It’s excessive in your opinion, I disagree

Rio: Good for you, disagree on your own

Buster: Fine

Rio: [oop, at least that shut y’all up I guess lmao]

Buster: [we did need to lol, soz though lads]

[the-lone-witch-and-secret-room]

Camila Noceda and Flawed Parenting

A perspective by a flawed person with loving but extremely flawed parents

I’m genuinely baffled at some people’s hostile reaction towards Camila. Like… do any of you have flawless parents that always know the best solution instantly, make no mistakes and never get emotional?

My parents are great. They’re super supportive and I love them very, very much. Overall I think I got very lucky in the parents department.

But god, they are far from flawless. I still live at home, and despite all the good, there’s moments when I can’t take my dad anymore. He’s the kind of dad that stayed up until two am to help me with homework when I was in school, and he does so, so many things to make sure I’m happy. I know that. But despite all of this, I have told my mom in emotional moments before that I’m not sure if I can keep living with him, because for all his good sides, he has a couple of fatal flaws that sometimes make him unbearable.

My mom listens to me and is very open to being educated on certain topics, but she has her flaws, too. She hates when I fight with my dad, and gets so torn up about it that I’ve once apologized to my dad out of fear of her getting into a car crash otherwise. She’s very vocal about certain flaws of mine, and sometimes uses the things she does for me as leverage against me when she gets very emotional.

And both of my parents pay a lot more attention to my brother because he needs it more, because he’s more of a “problem child” while I “seem so capable” even when I’m not.

And guess what? I’m not a perfect child. I make mistakes sometimes, some of them pretty severe. Just like Luz, I’m the kind of person that struggles to communicate certain issues of mine to her parents. I’m stubborn, and when I get emotional, I say very hurtful things sometimes. So do they.

And this has nothing to do with my parents being horrible or abusive. They’re neither of those things.

The takeaway from this should not be that my entire family is made up of terrible people, but that we’re all flawed in our own ways, despite loving each other and trying our best. There’s things about my parents I wish I could change, and there are things about me that my parents wish they could change. And to an extent, that’s perfectly normal.

In our strengths and flaws and frustration with each other, we’re all human.

Specific, spoiler-y Camila and Luz things under the cut since this got very long.

We have no indication that Camila has a pattern of emotionally manipulating Luz. Her “emotional manipulation” as I’ve seen some people put it, is people for some reason thinking that the second you become an adult, you’re suddenly perfect and can no longer make mistakes, lest you’ll be dubbed horrible and abusive.

The whole concept is absurd to me. There is no perfect way to parent. There simply isn’t. Of course, there’s some genuinely abusive patterns that are horrible and inexcusable. But out of the parenting styles that aren’t, which one works depends on a number of factors, one of which absolutely includes that every child is different and has different needs. Camila is an amazing parent for Vee, giving the kid everything she’s ever longed for. She’s not an ideal parent for Luz. And that’s because Luz and Vee have fundamentally different needs.

Likewise, Luz is a pretty great child for Eda, but not a perfect fit for Camila. Luz relates to Eda a lot more than she relates to her mom, and that’s why the two of them have an easier time understanding each other. Both of these mother-child relationships exist, and one is not more doomed to fail than the other, but I think you’ll agree that the better you understand someone and where they’re coming from, the easier it is to communicate, pick up on certain signs, etc.

As mom and daughter, Camila and Luz are both flawed and have issues seeing the other’s perspective because of how different they are. And we should simultaneously acknowledge both of their roles in the issue and give both of them the space to learn and grow past those issues.

Luz struggles to communicate her problems. She doesn’t want to burden people in the demon realm, and it’s a given that this started out as not wanting to burden her mom. So she keeps quiet about her issues. Camila tries hard but can’t read her daughter’s mind, so there’s only so much she can do to understand and help the way Luz needs her to. Hell, Eda, who Luz is a lot more open with than her mom, struggles to help her, because Luz doesn’t tell her what’s wrong. I don’t see anyone calling Eda a terrible mom for that.

Camila tries her best, but she struggles to understand her daughter because of this, and because of how fundamentally different they are. She loves Luz’s creativity, we actively see her supporting it in the new episode—she keeps the weird stuff Luz made because she thinks Luz will regret throwing it away, and even plays along in what she assumes to be some elaborate role play because “she’s glad Luz kept her creativity even though it’s not made things easy for her at school”. But at the beginning of the show, said creativity got out of hand and people got hurt. Luz could’ve gotten hurt. So of course Camila had to interfere. I love Luz dearly, but she thought it was okay to bring snakes to school and set off fireworks inside a school building. Creativity is great. Doing reckless stuff that causes people to get hurt is not.

In sending Luz to camp, Camila tried to have someone else fix her issue because she didn’t know how to help Luz. That was a mistake, and a bad one at that, but she’s realizing that. She looks disheartened when Vee tries to throw out Luz’s stuff, because she never meant to change her daughter or take that part of her away. She just thought Luz needed a reality check—which, for the record, is something the narrative actually agrees with.

Luz spends her time in the demon realm getting reality check after reality check, realizing that even her ideal fantasy world where she has everything she always wanted doesn’t mean she’s free of consequences. She goes overboard constantly, causing:

-Eda to be forced to fly into a trap because Luz is chasing a fantasy (Witches before Wizards)

-Eda to almost be branded by her sister because Luz doesn’t think through why Eda doesn’t use magic to publicly announce her presence constantly (Once Upon a Swap)

-Eda and the twins to get kidnapped by a Slitherbeast because Luz stole Amity’s wand (Adventures in the Elements)

-Her friends to get hurt when she goes overboard trying to help Willow (Wing it like Witches)

-Eda to be captured and almost petrified because Luz thought she could just steal from the Emperor with no consequences in an attempt to help (Agony of a Witch)

I’m like 90% sure these aren’t even all. None of those make her a terrible person, for the record, but as all humans are, she is flawed and makes bad choices. She learns from these experiences and matures, just like her mom had hoped she would at camp. She’s also made friends there, which was another thing Camila wanted for her daughter.

You’ll probably realize that a lot of Luz’s behaviors I mentioned follow one of two patterns: 1. Luz’s idealized fantasy world causing problems, when she walks around with rose tinted glasses and gets people in trouble in the process because she hasn’t thought about the consequences, and 2. Luz trying to help someone she loves, but instead making things worse in the progress. The issue with this one is often that she doesn’t communicate her ideas/listen to the people she’s trying to help—like when Willow and Gus said they’ve had enough of Grudgby, or how she never actually talks to Eda about the healing hat idea before doing something reckless.

…does the latter one sound familiar to you at all? No? Because it’s the exact same thing that Camila did.

Some of the things Luz does are reckless and actively endanger others and herself, and that’s something that I think we need to acknowledge before judging Camila. As Luz’s mom, it’s Camila’s job to interfere in those situations. That she made a mistake while trying to protect Luz doesn’t make her a terrible person, especially as, again, the narrative proves her right to an extent.

I’m not saying her making Luz promise to come back and stay isn’t something that hurt Luz—it absolutely is. But it was born out of desperation. She’s emotional and in shock. She’s so full of pain and regret. She just wants her fourteen year old daughter home safe, and there’s nothing abusive or even morally ambiguous about that.

From Luz’s perspective, what she says is absolutely heartbreaking, but from Camila’s, it’s perfectly reasonable. I doubt Camila has the full picture, but even if she does, she’s had a full fifteen seconds to process that her daughter has not only been lying to her for months, but chose to leave her, and is in the demon realm of all places. Of course she’d be emotional and upset about that! Who wouldn’t? Camila isn’t a robot. If she’d been calm about this I’d be way more concerned, honestly.

My parents don’t get mad that easily, but if I would lie to them for weeks on end, they’d be pissed off too, not even taking the running away from home part into account. That’s a normal thing. People don’t like being lied to. Camila is absolutely devastated in that moment because she’s scared that Luz left because she hates her, when Luz actively states that her leaving wasn’t about her mom—which is another thing we should really be acknowledging.

Abusive parents suck and abuse should obviously never be apologized or trivialized, but saying something hurtful in the heat of the moment isn’t the same thing as being an abusive parent. My parents have done this. I’ve done this. And yes, those things can be emotionally manipulative, but there’s a huge difference in whether that’s a habit or a person speaking out of hurt and desperation in a very specific context. I doubt there’s anyone on the entire planet that hasn’t had a bad moment where they’ve said something like this because they were hurting. People lash out when they hurt, and they beg for reassurance when they’re scared. That’s something we all do.

The whole mindset of “all parents have to be perfect and can never get upset or make any mistakes” is harmful as hell, and honestly also very unrealistic. No parent is perfect, and especially people like me who have a relationship with their parents that’s very good overall should know that.

Once you have a child, parenting is a non-stop learning process, every day for the rest of your life. Taking away that room to grow and expecting perfection isn’t helping anyone, especially not struggling single parents.

And I see Camila as someone who is very willing to learn, because at the end of the day, all she wants is for Luz to be happy. Let’s give her some time to wrap her head around this whole situation. Let’s see what she says once she sees for herself how happy Luz is in that world, may it be via the videos eventually coming through or Camila visiting and meeting Luz’s found family, her friends and her girlfriend.

Ultimately, I don’t think Camila will force Luz to stay at home, but we have to give her some time. She wants what’s best for Luz, and she’s gonna need some convincing that a dangerous magical world is what’s best. I feel like that’s very normal considering the circumstances.

Her and Luz need to work on their communication on both ends, they both have things to learn, but I’m certain they’ll manage to fix their relationship in the long run.

If the bunk bed is any indication, I think Vee is gonna stay in the human realm permanently while Luz sleeps at home but keeps attending Hexside in the daytime. That feels like a solution that keeps everyone happy, and allows Luz to spend time with all the people she loves. I can’t see her being forced to choose at the end.

As a closing statement: Eda isn’t an ideal mom, Amity isn’t an ideal friend or girlfriend and neither is Luz, Lilith isn’t an ideal sister… but that’s because no one is ever an ideal anything. Being flawed is a big part of being human. Everyone has different facets to their personality. Their flaws are what makes them such great, relatable, believable characters.

And I feel the same way about Camila. She’s an extremely believable character that reminds me of my own parents, flawed but very loving nonetheless.

(Also honestly, I think it’s pretty telling that some of you guys immediately bash the black single mom that’s obviously trying her hardest while giving the benefit of the doubt to Alador, who has been portrayed as neglecting and threatened his six year old daughter on screen. This was already a thing before we knew much about either of them, and I’m disappointed but unfortunately not very surprised that it still is.)

[emptymanuscript]

You know, this

Is actually what makes me so angry.

I don’t think there is a skew, the fundamental problem is that the numbers are close. That among those who are likely to vote, it’s just too close to call.

And it shouldn’t be. The sheer amount, size, and publicity of Republican crimes should make this not a close race.

But what I think this really says, trying to change it from numbers to people, is that Trump was right. He COULD have shot someone on the street while on camera and it wouldn’t have made a lick of difference to his constituency. There’s literally nothing at this point that will change people’s minds. Republicans can try to overthrow the government, steal personal rights, wreck the economy, destroy fair voting, and do it all proudly without any meaningful backlash. Oh, people will hem and haw and consider but at the end of the day, if you were willing to vote for a Republican BEFORE January 6th you’re going to vote Republican now.

Which means the hope is pretty literally turn out. Republicans aren’t shifting, Democrats aren’t shifting, all of us are doubling down. It’s on the 40%+ of the populace that usually doesn’t vote in midterms. They’re the ONLY wild card.

The norm in elections is for the President’s party to lose in midterms. That’s what happens. Like clockwork. It just frustrates me that this isn’t a normal year. It shouldn’t be a normal year. Nothing about this should be normal. But it is. At least for us likely voters.

And no amount of money is going to change that. This isn’t about Republicans vs. Democrats. Not really. This is about likely vs unlikely voters.

We know what we likely voters are going to do. We’re going to hem and haw and scream and tear at our hair and then hand the government back to the people who tried and are still trying to destroy it. Because we’re the given. We’re business as usual. And if business as usual happens, yeah, it’s too close to call but that likely means Republicans win. And I just want to strangle someone for that.

What unlikely voters are going to do, we don’t know. They may be in the exact same position as us. Hemming and hawing and tearing at the hair but at the end of the day going right back to normal and not voting. Handing the government right back to the people who want to break it.

You wanna know if you can make a difference this year, it’s real easy. Did you vote four years ago. Not two, four, the last midterm. If you didn’t, you’re an unlikely voter and your vote is inherently going to be a deviation from the norm. You’re the biggest constituency in the country. You actually have the most elective power. But only if you use it. And most don’t. That’s why you’re unlikely voters.

Please, for the love of anything you value about this country, go vote. You can go vote early this weekend. The election is Tuesday. These 4 days are it.

This is literally your chance to make a difference. To tell the status quo go fuck itself. Because if Republicans don’t win this midterm, it will be only the third time since 1945 that the flip hasn’t run like clockwork. Republicans winning IS the status quo. It has been since longer than probably anyone who reads this has been alive. We’re just going to do what we always do. I can scream all I want, we know what I am going to do and it has been accounted for. What are you going to do?

[yikesharringrove]

Show Pony

Chapter 5

Kids

Read on ao3

-

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. She’s going to Morocco.”

There was something in Steve’s throat, making his voice waver and sound reverent at the same time. 

“She’s going to Morocco.” Billy pressed his hand down Steve’s back, dragging his fingertips along his skin, surprisingly smooth and soft. 

Steve had his head on Billy’s chest, their bodies stuck together uncomfortably with sweat, but neither of them could be assed to move. 

They were wrapping up their little movie night, Almost Famous playing to a close on Steve’s laptop, perched on the kitchenette counter, just where they could see it from the bed. 

“Okay, that was really good.”

“I fucking told you. My mom showed me that movie when I was, like, eight. Shit changed me fundamentally.”

Steve shifted his leg a little bit but stayed silent. Billy could feel his muscles tensing uncomfortably.

“What?”

“What what?”

“I can tell you’re tense.”

“I just,” Steve sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention your mom before.”

“Yeah. Don’t really like talking ‘bout her.”

“Did she, you know ?”

Yeah. Billy did know. 

“Nah, she didn’t die. She left. Not long after that movie night.”

Steve’s head popped up from where it was rested on Billy, giving him those big fuckin’ eyes looking sappy and sad as all hell. 

“I’m sorry.”

Billy didn’t know what to say to that. 

He doesn’t tell people about his mom. About her lovely life that she’s built without him in it. 

It breaks his heart just to think about. 

“She’s got kids now. A husband.”

“I don’t know what to say. I’m just. Sorry.”

“I don’t know what I want to hear. But yeah. T’sucks.”

“You wanna know something that makes me sad? So we’re even?”

Billy huffed a laugh through his nose, bringing his hand up to tuck some of Steve’s messy hair behind his ear.

“Only if you wanna tell me.”

“Remember how I said I was supposedta get my high school diploma soon? Well, by soon I mean, like, maybe within the next few years.” Steve wasn’t meeting Billy’s eyes, and he put his head back down on his solid chest, his shoulders tensing up around his ears. “I never went to school. Not even when I was little. I’ve had the same tutor on the road since I was a kid, and he’s good. Tries his best. I just. I’m- not good . I’m not smart. You need to pass this test to get your high school GED if you’ve taken an ‘ alternative route ’. Like I have. But I can’t take it until I know the shit that’s on it, and my tutor, Scott, he’s too nice. Says I’m okay. That I’m on track. But I saw the program he teaches from. Says it’s for ninth and tenth graders. I’m nearly nineteen, and I’m in fucking ninth grade .”

Oh fuck. 

Oh fuck . 

Billy’s 98.6% sure Steve is fighting back serious tears right now. 

It was crushing Billy’s soul and making him feel like he was gonna join right on in.

But for how much Billy is a goddamn little crybaby, he sure is useless when other people start crying.

“It’s, Steve- that’s not your fault. You’ve literally never gone to school. Plus, like, I’m sure you don’t do your tutoring like I did school. Five days a week for like seven hours since I was five or something. You’ve been. Busy. You travel around and do all these amazing things, and, and, you're not dumb. Your parents just chose to not put you in school and then got mad when that didn’t work out as planned. It’s got nothin’ to do with your brain.”

This is gonna sound shitty. 

And Billy really doesn’t mean it like that. 

It’s just, well. Billy didn’t realize Steve was so. Fucked up. 

Traumatized. Might be a less harsh word for it. 

Billy just never woulda thought, when he first watched Steve ride like a fucking expert, or when he first noticed him strutting around the grounds of the rodeo, that there was actually something really sad behind that denim and flannel. 

It made something in Billy’s gut twist and turn. 

Because he’s the exact same way. 

Because underneath the layer of carefully maintained hot muscle-head douchebag jock, there’s a really sensitive boy who was abandoned by his mother and gets regular hits from his father. 

He can’t really decide if being able to see through Steve is a good thing or a bad thing, though. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to act like a fucking baby over it. I never really talk about it, so I guess the bad shit just kinda all decided to explode out all over you.”

“Nah, Pretty Boy. S’okay. I’m used to bad shit.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“I meant it more in a bummer way, I guess.”

“I am sorry about your mom. It seems like you really loved her.”

Little bastard had brought it back around to Billy’s shitty baggage now. 

The gorgeous little dickhead.

“I do.”

And that’s probably the worst thing about it. 

All these years of feeling abandoned and forgotten. Of trying to make himself hate her, he still loves her so much. 

He is her. 

So much of himself modelled around the aspects of her he found most beautiful. 

The things, try as he might, he can’t help but love.

Billy felt Steve take a large deep breath on top of him. 

“Do you, like, talk to her much?”

“Nah. Should be getting a FaceBook message for my birthday next week. And then nothing ‘til Christmas. That’s how it goes with her.” She was literally the only reason Billy still kept his FaceBook account around. 

Mostly because when he was feeling sorry for himself he’d go over to her profile and peruse the album labelled “Family ❤️” until he felt worse. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizin’. Not your fault she couldn’t handle it all.”

“Was she really young, or something?”

“Yeah. It was a case of too young and her own shitty father giving her enough issues to make her wanna marry the first asshole that told her she was pretty.” He’s never said all of this out loud. 

But he couldn’t. Stop. Talking. 

“Then when he turned out to be a bigger dick than she imagined, she split. Basically fell off the Earth for a few years. Served my dad divorce papers out of the blue one day. Now, she’s got a family that doesn’t suck, and barely spares any thought for the kid she left down south. Not that I blame her.”

He does, and he doesn’t. 

It’s an odd situation. 

He blames Neil for everything, when he’s thinking clearly. 

He pushed his mother away with the same violence, the same painful rage he shows Billy. 

But he also blames her. 

She could’ve taken him before she scrammed. Could’ve fought for custody over him while she and his father met for Skype calls with their lawyers to settle the divorce.

Their split was easy, because she didn’t want anything. 

Not their house, not their belongings.

Not their son. 

“Wow. I thought my family was fucked up. Not to be rude, or anything.” Steve flushed, but he had the ghost of a smirk on his face.

“Every family is fucked up. Just in different ways.” 

“I guess you’re right. I should probably get my head outta my ass and quit bein’ so selfish, then.”

Billy smiled fondly at Steve.

“You’re not selfish. Just don’t got a lot of outlets, I assume.”

Steve nodded, and Billy understood. 

He doesn’t either. 

The only person he even considers close enough to vent to, is Max. And even then, he doesn’t tell her all of it. Not nearly any of it. 

She knows he’s gay only because she knows Neil’s a fucking homophobe. She knows he gets beat only because Neil does it in front of her. She knows his mom left only because sometimes Neil gets drunk and spits in Billy’s face that it’s all his fault she’s gone. 

But she doesn’t know that Billy agrees with Neil on that last bit. 

That maybe if he fought for her better-

Got in between her and Neil when he was goin’ in rough and hard on her down in the kitchen, instead of hiding under his bed with his hands pressed over his ears. 

He’s got no one to work through all this shit with, and by the sounds of things, Steve hasn’t got anyone either. 

And maybe that’s what they could be. 

For each other. 

Billy shook himself.

“You wanna start your movie?” He asked Steve, trying to redirect the evening back to their Favorite Movie Double Feature, and out of Billy’s Hopeless and Has Feelings territory. 

Because time was ticking down. 

And no matter how much Billy felt like Steve was the perfect compliment to his frayed and ragged soul.

Steve was leaving. 

Steve was always leaving. 

[filmsmakkari]

Satisfied

Wordcount- 2.2k

Hamilton!Tom Holland x Angelica!Reader

Soldier!Tom x Princess!Reader

So this is the first part of a story based on Angelica and Alexander's dynamic in Hamilton :)

i would recommend listening to the song satisfied here

Full Series Masterlist

I remember that night

I just might regret that night for the rest of my days

Being raised the crown princess of the small island nation of Larione had never been easy. Larione wasn’t particularly important to larger countries, only included on a few maps. Many of the citizens lived in poverty and only a powerful marriage alliance with a wealthy royal would solve it. Being born a girl only made things worse. No matter how people will deny it, boys are always favored over girls, especially in royal families. No one would ever take you seriously as a queen without a king by your side. It was imperative that you married a future king- preferably a wealthy one. You’d been raised with the responsibility of marrying for your country’s benefit, so the idea of marrying for love had never even crossed your mind.

I remember those soldier boys trippin’ over themselves to win our praise

It all started at your father’s Winter Ball. Plenty of the continent’s royals were in attendance, all trying to earn you and your sister’s favor. Though Larione’s royal family wasn’t the wealthiest, the (Y/L/N) Sisters were known to be quite beautiful, making you the envy of all. As you socialized with the guests, you noticed a few soldiers flirting with your ladies-in-waiting. You smiled at one of them, Lady Adannaya, as a way of encouraging her to continue their flirtation. That was when you first saw him.

But Alexander, I’ll never forget the first time I saw your face

Another soldier had joined his friends and your ladies. You knew from the moment your eyes landed on him that you would never be the same. He had silky brown hair and a hunger-pang-frame. You wondered if he ate regularly. And oh, good lord those eyes. They were a deep shade of brown, but they shone gold in the light of the candle he was near.  They sparkled with intelligence, wit, and ambition. He must have felt your gaze on him because he suddenly turned to meet your gaze, smiling seductively at you. At that moment it felt as if your heart had been set aflame. He began to approach you. Then it felt as if your entire body had been set aflame.

You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied

“Your highness,” he said, bowing and kissing your hand.

“Good evening, soldier. What is your name?”

“Thomas Holland, your grace,” he replied.

Thomas Holland, you thought. You knew him. Not personally, but you’d heard of him. He was essentially Major General Njeri’s right-hand man. A soldier with a marksman’s ability, and not too bad with a quill either. From your understanding, he wrote all of the general’s correspondences.

“Are you enjoying the ball, Thomas?”

“I am,” he looked you up and down “but you aren’t.”

“Pardon me?”

“All of these suitors, they don’t make you happy, do they?”

“Well, aren’t you perceptive?” you asked, a smirk painting your face.

“Oh, come on.” You made a surprised face, taken aback by his familiar tone. “Suitors, balls, court life, none of this satisfies you, does it, your grace?”

You chuckled in disbelief. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. You forget yourself, Thomas.”

You turned to walk away, but he grabbed a hold of your wrist. You looked down at your wrist, then back up at him, eyes wide in surprise as he spoke.

“I don’t think so, your grace. You see, you’re just like me, I’m never satisfied,” he said genuinely.

“Oh, is that right?” you questioned, forgetting not to show your intrigue. “Where is  your family from, Thomas?”

I asked about his family, did you see his answer?

His hands started fidgeting, he looked askance

He’s penniless, he’s flying by the seat of his pants

You could see the reservation about the topic of his family in his eyes even before he spoke.

He shook his head nonchalantly, but his hands were fidgeting. “Doesn’t matter where my family’s from. I’m going places one day. Just you wait. You’ll see. Just you wait.” And with that, he was back with his soldier friends, leaving you fascinated and slightly lovestruck. You knew it was foolish to have feelings for someone you barely knew, especially being a princess, but you simply couldn’t help it. His boldness and lack of regard for your position ensnared you immediately, and before you’d even spoken much, you knew he had you.

Everything we said in total agreement

You spoke with the handsome soldier boy a few more times that night, always agreeing, constantly sharing the same opinions. It was as if you shared a mind. You never did get to dance with him, but you promised he would have a dance before the night was over. If you hadn’t been sure already, you were then. You were completely and utterly in love with him.

Handsome, boy, does he know it

Peach fuzz and he can’t even grow it

I wanna take him far away from this place

Then I turn and see my sister’s face and she’s

“Helpless,” your sister, Yelizaveta, whom you all affectionately called Eliza, said to you.

She had just pulled you to the side of the ballroom and told you that someone had her “helpless”.

“What do you mean? Who does?” you questioned.

“Him.” Eliza turned, and there he was.

Thomas. The one who had your younger sister so helpless was the very same young soldier who had stolen into your affections.

“He’s wonderful (Y/N/N)!” she turned back to you. “It’s Thomas Holland, General Njeri’s favorite soldier! He’s so handsome and brave.” Your sister was basically swooning by that point.

“Helpless? Eliza, it’s only been one night, are you sure?” You knew you were being hypocritical. You yourself felt deeply in love with Thomas and had also only met him that night. And anyway, you knew she wasn’t exaggerating. You knew your sister like you knew your own mind. All you had to do was look into her eyes and you knew she meant it when she said she was completely helpless for him.

“Yes, sister, I’m sure. He has me,” she replied.

And I realize

Three fundamental truths at the exact same time

You nodded, stroking her face and walking over to him. As you got closer to him, you realized three key truths that you had foolishly allowed yourself to forget.

Number One

I’m a girl in a world in which my only job is to marry rich

My father has no sons so I’m the one who has to social climb for one

You were the oldest of all your sisters, making you (Y/N), Crown Princess of Larione. The future ruler of your country. Crown princess, not prince. You would never be taken seriously as a ruler on your own. Your job was to marry a rich royal, preferably a king or crown prince. Thomas Holland was the furthest possible thing from that. A poor bastard orphan from the Caribbean, with no title or wealth. Simply a soldier favored by a revered general. As a woman, he could give you love, but as the future of the realm, there was nothing he offered you.

“How have I offended you now?” he asked jokingly.

“Not at all,” you said, smiling. “There’s actually someone I’d like you to meet.”

He raised his eyebrows as you grabbed his arm and led him in your sister’s direction.

“Where are you taking me?” he questioned.

“I’m about to change your life.”

“Well then, by all means, lead the way.”

As you approached your sister, she curtsied politely, saying “Princess Yelizaveta. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Princess?” Thomas turned to you in confusion, having thought this girl was one of your ladies.

“My sister!” you explained.

“Thank you for all you do, sir,” Eliza said.

“If  it takes fighting a war for us to meet it will have been worth it.”

“I’ll leave you to it!” you said, smiling through the pain of your actions.

Number Two

He’s after me cause I’m a Schuyler Sister

That elevates his status

I’d have to be naive to set that aside,

Maybe that is why I introduced him to Eliza

Now that’s his bride,

Nice going, Angelica, he was right

You will never be satisfied

Thomas Holland was an ambitious man. A social climber, desperate to rise above his station. To marry a princess would make him a duke, one of the highest titles in Larione. His children would have royal blood, and so would his grandchildren after that. Perhaps that was the reason you had introduced him to your younger sister. A princess, but not one who would be queen. Someone a step above, but within reach. A decision you regretted almost immediately. You wished you had kept him to yourself. Ha, would you look at that, he was right. You will never be satisfied.

Number Three

I know my sister like I know my own mind,

You will never find anyone as trusting or as kind

If I tell her that I love him she’d be silently resigned

He’d be mine,

She would say “I’m fine”

She’d be lying

The week following the ball, Eliza and Thomas were writing back and forth constantly. Eliza’s eyes lit up with every letter that he wrote her. You played the role of the protective, prying older sister, saying to her in regards to the letters “I’m just saying If you really loved me you would share them!”, trying to playfully snatch one away.

Of course, it was all an act. You wished those letters were for you. You wished you were the one Thomas was so eager to write to. You wanted so badly to confess your feelings to Thomas and Eliza and to take him for yourself, but you could never do that to your kind, gentle sister. Realistically, if you were to confess, your sister would be happy for you. She would sway Thomas in your direction, just as you had done for her. She would tell you she was happy for you and that she was alright. She’d be lying. Eliza felt strongly for Thomas, anyone could see it. She’d be heartbroken, but she’d deny it. She would want nothing more than your happiness, the same way you wanted her’s. Your love for her triumphed over all, even your love for Thomas. You loved her more than anything in this life and would put her happiness over your own every time. So you bit your tongue, hiding away your true feelings.

Before you knew it, several months had passed. Thomas, through ambition, skill and, and hard work, had risen in station from a common soldier to Secretary of Larione’s Treasury- a position high enough to marry a member of the royal family.

So finally, the time had come to ask your father for his blessing to marry your sister. You, Eliza, and your youngest sister, Margaery, or “Peggy”, were sitting on a couch in the upstairs corridor leading to the stairs, listening for your father’s approval.

Your father stood up and walked towards Thomas slowly. You got nervous, fearing he was going to deny Thomas’s request for marriage. You truly wanted him to bless the marriage. All you wanted was for Eliza to be happy. Thankfully, your father shook Thomas’s hand saying “be true to each other”.

Thomas smiled brightly, looking up to Eliza. You all rushed downstairs. You and Peggy hugged your new brother-in-law tightly, welcoming him to the family. You smiled softly as Eliza kissed him. Though it would be a lie to say you didn’t feel a flash of sadness at the reminder that he wasn’t yours. But as usual, you hid your feelings.

Days passed as quickly as they came, eventually leading up to Thomas and Eliza’s wedding. To say it was bittersweet would be an understatement. On one hand, your sister’s happiness brought you great joy, on the other, the prospect of Thomas being out of your reach permanently brought you great despair.

You smiled as you walked down the aisle as your sister’s maid of honor, but anyone who looked close enough would have seen your eyes were crying.

You couldn’t stop the tears pooling in your eyes as Thomas’s close friend, Lieutenant Colonel Harrison Osterfield spoke loudly, “Everyone, give it up for the maid of honor! Princess (Y/N)!”

“A toast to the groom!” you said enthusiastically, looking at Thomas and Eliza.

“To the groom!” the guests toasted.

“To the lovely bride!”

The guests repeated it back to you.

“From your most adoring sister,” you said, wrapping your free arm around Peggy. “Who’s always by your side.”

“May your marriage be long and prosperous,” you turned to Thomas specifically. “And may you always be satisfied.”

The young man smiled knowingly at you.

The wedding came and went, and before you knew it, you were saying goodbye to Thomas and Eliza as they left for their honeymoon.

“Are you crying, sister? Oh, I love you ever so much!” Eliza said, wiping your tears and kissing your cheek. She thought you were crying tears of happiness for her. Oh, if only she knew. As she said her goodbyes to Peggy, you caught Thomas’s eye. In them was an expression of such deep longing it made your heart ache. Your gazes on each other lingered until Eliza’s sweet, lovestruck voice called out “Thomas?”. At the sound of her voice, he tore his gaze from you, stepping into the carriage and riding away with his wife. Eventually, Harrison, Jacob, and Tuwaine- Thomas’s fellow soldiers- alongside Peggy went back inside, leaving you standing alone, tears running down your face outside of the chapel where your dearest sister just married your one true love.

He will never be satisfied.

I will never be satisfied.

[behold-the-griffin]

Honestly, my feelings on Endeavor are super complicated. Because is he objectively a dogshit person who I would like to hit with a steel chair? Yeah. Did I like watching his face get bashed in by that Nomu and then his son absolutely scalping him with the “Nice scar”? Yeah. 

But at the same time, I absolutely cannot read fics where Endeavor gets the realistic consequences of his actions given to him, and Todoroki gets the happy and loving parental relationship he so clearly deserves. I get a bad feeling in my gut when I see people calling bullshit on Endeavor’s redemption arc, even though that was something that I also did myself when I first watched it. 

I’m almost angry at myself, for wanting Endeavor to be a good dad. He’s fucked up for years, though, and at this point, it’s really too little too late for Real Family to happen. But still. I will see a fic with the tag “Good Dad Endeavor” and there is a high likelihood that I will look at it.

I’ve read some really good ones, or at least, ones I’ve enjoyed. Even if they aren’t accurate to the character, but that’s what you’re gonna get when you fundamentally change the motivations and actions of someone. Though I wouldn’t even know the correct characterization for an in character and Non-jackass!Endeavor. 

Which might be a problem later down  the line, as there is a fic in my series that I’m planning that is also rapidly approaching Writing Time for. But I digress. 

I can’t help myself from comparing Endeavor’s redemption arc to Zuko’s. Forgive me if I get timeline details wrong, but it’s been a hot minute since I’ve watched either show. 

Besides the obvious parallels, they both get what they want. And then they’re not satisfied with this goal they’ve worked a fair portion of their life to attain. But I think that Zuko’s arc did a few things that Endeavor’s didn’t. And they make, or in this case, break, whether the audience supports their turnaround. 

It was established that there was good parts of Zuko. However, the environment he was raised in told him that kindness was weakness and weakness was death. It was his compassion for others that got him into this mess, whereas it was just Endeavor’s drive to become the number one hero (or at least, sire a child better than All Might) that landed him in the Jackass Pit. We get no redeeming traits for Endeavor, or at least none that I can think of. Like. He’s driven? I guess? His profession is saving people? Can you tell I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel? 

Zuko’s arc was slow in execution, quick in payoff. He actively hunted in season one, he settled in season two, and then joined them in season three, going on life changing field trips with Aang, Katara, and Sokka. Endeavor, on the other hand, while not quite doing an about-face, definitely took that corner on two wheels. It’s quick in execution but slow in payoff, maybe not paying off at all, because he recognizes that the ones he hurt have no obligation to forgive him whatsoever. 

Everyone wants a Zuko redemption arc, but not everyone can be Zuko. And the people who dislike his redemption arc and think it’s horrible and the people who think the exact opposite of that both have valid opinions, but here I am in the middle, calling bullshit but desperately wanting it to work out in the end. 

I’ll be honest here, it’s probably because of my own relationship with my father, so like… yeah I’m biased. I want my father to recognize that he’s hurt me and at least try to be better while not expecting forgiveness, and since I know that this will never happen, I hope an anime about a broccoli boy with superpowers will fill the gaping void. 

[yesimwriting]

Anastasia (prologue)

A/n ive been talking about my Anastasia x SOC story for awhile and im finally ready to post the prequel,, ive also been working on some requests and thinking about my next multi-part fic (ive made some posts about it lol)

things to know before reading: i tend to like to make up my own countries when writing these type of politically/plot driven fics that revolve around a royal family bc i think it makes it not only easier to write but less confusing bc it takes out the issue of potentially conflicting with canon, so i made up the country ‘Anastasia’ is from,, this also follows the musical Anastasia a little more bc i feel like that version of the story is more mature and easier to write for SOC (the only difference is that not everyone is happy that Anastasia is alive and someone tries to kill her bc they hate the royal family)

Series Summary: y/n makes an unconventional deal with Kaz to save the life of her best friend. No one’s ever made a deal with the infamous Dirtyhands that resulted in them shedding the title of orphan from a revolution-torn country that can’t remember her life before the orphanage and taking on the title of Princess Anastasia. As time progresses, things are made more complicated as y/n has to deal with royals, revolutionaries, a grisha general who has a lot to gain from an alliance with a princess that doesn’t know what she’s doing, and potential feelings for a conflicted Kaz Brekker that has more to do with Anastasia’s disappearance than he’s ever admitted. 

--

The world seems to be made up impossible things. Each day, people defy odds, strangers fall in love, the universe expands, and the Saints watch it all. I am not the kind of person to sneer at a miracle, to try to explain it away instead of acknowledging it for what it is. 

But what this stranger is proposing is laughable. 

I lean more into the chair, doing all I can to get away from the desk that he sits at. A nervous kind of giggle threatens to escape me, a laugh at the expense of the foolishness of the situation. If his demeanor was any less brooding, I would have already laughed at the irony. Kaz Brekker, the Dirtyhands, creating a ploy so colored by the fairytale notions of dreamers.

The longer I go without reacting, the worse this situation becomes. I haven’t seen Verne since Brekker and his people separated us. I can see the world of torment my eldest friend must be experiencing at this very moment while I sit at this desk. 

“Me?” I’m the most ridiculous part of his plan. He said the only reason me and my partner are still alive is because I fit the general description of the kind of person he needs, and if I’m blackmailed into it he won’t need to waste kruge paying me. “A princess?” 

He blinks, as uninterested and stoic as he’s been since he first ordered me into his office. “A pretend one,” his correction feels like a slight, “a surrogate one.” 

My eyebrows furrow together. “But what--I know the odds of the real Anastasia coming back are beyond slim, but if we’re caught in a lie the Dowager Duchess of Avila will have all of us killed. She may be in Ravka now, and her title nothing more than decorative due to the revolution, but she still has people loyal to her.” 

“Anastasia can’t come back.” The graveness of his voice is so certain a part of me has to wonder if he could have anything to do with her death. I dismiss the thought almost immediately, I don’t know his exact age, but he doesn’t look much older than me. He couldn’t have been more than two or three years older than Anastasia when she died, and she was a child at the time. “No one remains missing that long unless they’re dead.” 

I awkwardly scratch the back of my wrist, “You’re the expert here.” No--I did not just say that out loud. “Sorry--I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Not that thinking it makes it any better, but at least then you wouldn’t know and I’d seem like less of an idiot and I wouldn’t be talking about it right now, and just rambling at a really inconvenient time for me to just...” I cringe slightly, opting to stare at his desk instead of meeting his judgmental gaze. “Sorry, again. Normally Verne is here, and he just kicks me in the shin or something to shut me up.” 

“If you’d like to see what apparently is your only source of impulse control alive and in decent enough condition to kick anything ever again, you’ll agree to what I’m proposing.” 

I straighten my posture slightly, nerves and guilt twisting in my stomach. “I’m going to be as transparent as physically possible.” The warning is for both of us, the urge to hide all my weaknesses bubbling in my chest. “Mr. Brekker.” That’s awkward--what am I supposed to call him? “I’m a university student that’s only in Ketterdam because of an academic scholarship. I’m from somewhere average--I’m not from a place nice enough to give me the manners I’d need to pass as a girl who spent her fundamental years growing up in luxury and I’m not from a place grimy enough to make me a quick enough liar to make up for what I don’t know.” I inhale slowly, ignoring the sting of the flaws I laid out for a cruel stranger. “I’m not particularly graceful or sly or talented in any field that someone like you would value. The closest thing I have to talent involves things that can be tracked on paper. I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, I was just doing a friend a favor.” 

“You claim that you’re not a decent liar or a thief and yet your closest friend is one who believed himself talented enough to challenge me?” 

I resist the urge to shrink back into my seat. “This is Ketterdam, you try finding someone that doesn’t dabble in crime and ambition.” He does’t reply to my retort, which I think means I won. “Cards on the table, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save Verne, but you don’t want me for something like this.” 

He pauses, jaw locked and eyes too stony for me to interpret. “Every flaw you just pointed out, every reason you think makes you unfit for this job, is exactly the reason I’m offering you this.” I keep a thousand questions to myself as I wait for him to continue. “Those used to lying lack the warmth that will be needed to sell this. The Dowager Duchess is a grandmother first when it comes to Anastasia, that’s why she’s offering so much gold. She, and the rest of the royals that desire to know what happened to Anastasia, want to believe the story I’m telling. If you present yourself as someone real and warm and you understand table manners enough to not disturb the serene picture they want, they’ll squint at ugly details until they disappear.” 

Wow. I know that he’s intelligent, but what he’s constructing is so much more bullet proof than I thought it’d be. “I’ll admit you’ve constructed an airtight narrative.” 

I know my approval means nothing to him, but it’s the most agreeable I’m willing to be. “A narrative the background you told me of fits perfectly.” I shouldn’t have answered all those questions he asked me earlier so honestly. “A child born in Avila who was sent to a Kerch orphanage due to a war-relief effort during the revolution. A faceless orphan who was found during the height of the revolution with no memory of anything before the morning she woke up in a hospital cot.” 

I say nothing. My skin burns in protest of someone knowing so much about me. He must take my silence as a sign of me teetering the line away from what he wants, because he then says, “your friend is fortunate, if things aligned a little less perfectly he’d be dead already.” 

Dead already. The words elate my heart in a way that pinches. He’s still alive. Verne is alive. “If I agree, you let me see him and then you let him go.” 

“If you need a contract to believe me, I can have that arranged.” The words have an almost mocking edge. I guess it’d be a little ridiculous to get an official contract drawn up for something so small. “If you at any point change your mind, I’ll do the same.” 

The threat is clear. I back out and Verne pays for it in blood. Verne’s safety is once again in my hand. This situation is much more precarious than Kaz Brekker wants it to seem. “You need me to do something that will literally last the rest of my life. Tiaras aren’t something you can slip in and out of.” 

“Yes, I’m forcing you to give up a life in the slums for a palace for your friend’s life. This must be a difficult choice for you.” 

I look down to avoid rolling my eyes. “It’s still permanent, and it’s large because at any point I could reveal the truth and take you down with me.” 

“Remember who you speak to.” His voice has turned to pure darkness. 

Don’t wince. Don’t wince. Don’t wince. “All I’m saying is that you’ve offered Verne’s life to buy my cooperation, but you have yet to mention the cost of my silence.”

His expression is sharp enough to draw blood. “The Dowager Duchess is old and sick, wait at most two years and you’ll have more gold than you could ever spend. The revolution took that family’s power, not the wealth the Duchess took with her to Ravka the night of the massacre.” 

I shift awkwardly. “I’m not trying to get kruge from you for me.” I fold my hands neatly on my lap to avoid fidgeting. “Verne--he’s beyond desperate for kruge, that’s why he risked angering you.” The urge to shy away threatens to break my resolve. I think of all the times Verne has saved me. “Let him keep what he tried to take.” The request is awkward from my lips. I’m asking for more when I should should be grateful any type of mercy came from him. Any type of offer. “Half. Let him keep half.” 

He’s silent for a long moment, weighing the implications of loss. “You’re already entitled enough to pass for royalty.” I don’t let myself shrink. “Deal, but not because you threatened me--try that again and you’ll find yourself wishing you had never left the orphanage you came from.” The relief is practically crushing. Verne is going to be okay. He’s going to live and my resistance earned him enough kruge to have a week or two without worry as he plans what he’ll do in my absence. “You better be as good a study as you made yourself seem to be.” 

I don’t understand the second threat. “Studying?” 

“You didn’t think you could wander into the Dowager Duchess’s home, use the excuse of amnesia to explain why you don’t even know your own mother’s name, and expect them to think you more than an Avilan orphan with a desire for wealth.” 

“I actually don’t know my own mother’s name because of amnesia.” 

He’s in no mood to be contradicted, glowering sharply, “not anymore, anything that doesn’t fit the narrative I’m constructing is no longer true.” He straightens slightly as he begins to pace away from me. “You’ll have five minutes with your friend and then we’ll see where your table manners are at. I know someone who knows enough to correct you.” 

I try to picture where someone like him would meet someone that knows about etiquette. My mind provides nothing useful, but it doesn’t matter--I’ve agreed. It can’t be undone, not without having the blood of my dearest friend on my hands. 

[alloftheblackwidowfeelings]

Almost every reviewer on YouTube wasn’t satisfied with this movie IMO they said it was just Marvel combined some elements from other marvel movies so they could throw fans a BW movie so we could stfu, it didn’t do justice to the the character ,what do you think, is it really that bad.

To be honest, I've been working on this one for a while but I keep writing and deleting my response. Because all the things I want to say sound gatekeeper-y, in one of several ways.

I think you can be a Nat fan and not read the comics. I think you can be a Nat fan and never talk about her. I don't think you need to know everything about canon and be an "expert" to be a fan. I'm not interested in a locked-gate version of fandom. I don't think this movie should just be for die-hard Nat fans. And I don't think that all Nat fans will like this movie, for a variety of reasons.

Despite all of that, a lot of the comic book/movie expert reviews I've seen feel, to me, like they were evaluating a movie that isn't the one this movie was ever trying to be, and missing some of what the movie explicitly says it is because that doesn't fit what they want from it.

A bit more spoilery and a lot longer under the cut. I am so sorry I'm like this.

This movie felt tailor-made for me. Not because I loved every answer they gave, but because the questions they asked are ones I've been waiting to hear since 2012, when I first saw Avengers and then immediately went back to see the rest of phase 1. I think people disliking the answers is a legitimate opinion, and I'm looking forward to detangling that with people. What surprised me in reviews was not reviewers disliking the answers, which is legit, but not even seeming to realize the questions had been asked.

Most prominently, what felt like the huge thematic arc of the movie to me has been nonexistent in so many reviews that I've started to feel like I made it up, even though I took notes of exact quotes so I could reference them. The movie isn't a Nat origin story, and it's not about her as a cool edgy villain, so not seeing either of those didn't bother me. It's a movie about Natasha's trauma and how that manifests, and how her attempts to break free of it have harmed others in the past, and how she can move forward from that. We never get the key that unlocks the history of Natasha's past, so if you approach this as a puzzle box, it's going to fail.

THIS INDENTED PARAGRAPH IS THE CLOSEST I GET TO DIRECT PLOT POINTS, FEEL FREE TO SKIP

Specifically most of the reviews seem to view Nat's motivating guilt as over how she escaped the Red Room, particularly one casualty she deemed an acceptable sacrifice. But as I interpreted it, Nat's guilt in this movie came from a much closer place: the other Widows were all she'd had, and Nat being able to escape the Red Room made the Red Room hold on to the other Widows that much tighter. She thought she'd taken it down, but she was wrong. So her freedom, essentially, came at their expense. Natasha working to take down the Red Room this time is personal both to avenge her own trauma and to make up for her guilt in the Red Room still existing and creating more trauma for her peers. Without this context (and to be clear, I have gone back over the quotes several times to see if I'm misinterpreting and I really don't think I am), the idea that all of her guilt is over what she did to a single person makes more sense, but it also makes the movie a lot less interesting. If Natasha is justified in blaming Alexei and Melina for condemning her back to the Red Room, how could the other Widows not blame Nat? To me the entire story swings from that, and by not acknowledging Nat's (inadvertent but still very real) responsibility for continuing the cycle, the movie would feel hollow.

PLOT POINTS OVER.

Many critics they seem to feel like the potential this movie introduced was wasted because Nat's dead, so what's the point. First of all, the point is she's Nat and we care. It's not like we went in to Iron Man expecting that we'd have a decade of a franchise; we cared in the moment, and this movie is asking for the same thing. It delivers for over two hours of NOT murdering Natasha, which is more than I can say for Endgame.

To be clear, BW does set up other things for the MCU, and it's but if you're only watching it for what it's going to tell you about the future of the MCU (and I get it, because that's how I'm watching Loki, and it's a very different type of watching than I did for FATWS), this probably IS going to be a disappointment, because this isn't a big crossover event movie; I mean, none of Sam's "Big Three" show up at all. But again, that's about the movie someone wanted it to be, not the movie this was aiming to be.

Is this like a lot of other Marvel movies? Kinda. It's definitely taking a lot from Civil War for its set-up. Its arc felt like a close mirror of to Winter Soldier to me, to the extent that I'm planning to rewatch that on Thursday so I can see how much that's just me projecting my fave onto it. The third act is very Marvel-third-act-y, as adapted to Nat's character; the adapting to Nat's character are the parts I like and the rest is kind of what I consider the MCU price of admission.

I also kind of hate that it feels like the last few movies- Black Panther, Captain Marvel, now this and some rumblings about Shang-Chi- have all been kind of dismissed with "it's just the Marvel formula." It is, but that doesn't change the fact that different protagonists make it different. Dr Strange is pretty much just "Iron Man 1 with cool magic" and people didn't mind, but "how does this formula change when the protagonist is fundamentally different than the archetype to this point?" is apparently not different enough. I get Marvel fatigue, I really do, but for me it's tempered by how, in this case, Nat doesn't have the moral clarity Steve or Thor or even Tony or Scott has. No one in this movie lets her forget that she's a trained killer who little kids look up to.

Again: there are parts of this movie that don't work. I also don't ever ever EVER want to seem like I'm saying that if someone didn't like this movie they're not a real Nat fan or they're wrong. I know there are reasons to not love this movie, and I'm sure I'll figure out more the more I watch- it may not make me not love it, but it will at least complicate it for me, and i think we all know I live for that shit. Moreover, I intimately know how much it sucks when something you've been enthusiastic about and anticipating for ages doesn't pay off and everyone else seems to like it- it's isolating and upsetting and you just sit there wondering why no one else understands, and that's bullshit and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. People who don't like this movie are valid!

But if someone has a history of seeing Nat as just background, or considering her as a T&A deliver system more than as a character, or caring about hot women with guns but not care about the trauma that turned them into that, or saying they like movies about women but just not THIS woman for every comic book movie about a woman not there for them to ogle, or claiming to be experts in all things comics while doubling down on their theory that Yelena wouldn't appear because she was in Agent Carter (YES THAT HAPPENED, MORE THAN ONCE, THE NORTH. FUCKING. REMEMBERS. AND WISHES THEY KNEW WHERE THEY SAVED THOSE SCREENSHOTS), I don't need to weight their reviews heavier than the adrenaline rush I felt watching this movie.

So in answer to your question, I don't think the movie was really "that bad." I think this movie delivers in very specific ways, which definitely are not the flashy ones or the "every Marvel movie builds to the next great EVENT" ones or the male power fantasy ones, and if those ways aren't the ways you care about, it's going to be a disappointment. Even if those AREN'T the ones you care about, it could be a disappointment for any number of reasons, some of which I noticed during the movie and some of which I'm sure I'll be surprised to read about Friday morning.

But it wasn't one to me. For whatever it's worth, despite the movie's flaws, I loved it, I haven't stopped thinking about it in five days, I can't wait to see it again, and I hope that whether other people do or don't like it, they want to roll around in it as much as I do to pick out every single shred of canon worth overanalyzing.

If this is all we ever get for Natasha- and it is a CRIME if this is all we ever get for Natasha but that doesn't mean it's not so- I am grateful that this is what we got.

[winterhawk-olympic-bang]

Emotive Writing

Guest Poster: @thepartyresponsible​

Emotive writing is about making people Feel Things. People use this all the time to sell you stuff, but we’re out here giving emotions away for free. Here are a few tips and tricks I’ve found to make people feel the most emotions.

Word choice:

This is the most straightforward part of emotive writing. Your word choices add an extra layer of complexity to your message. You aren’t just telling readers what happened; you’re signaling to them how they should feel. Most writers do this unconsciously, but being deliberate can make it especially effective.

Here’s a non-emotive, just-the-facts sentence: The soldier lifted his weapon and turned toward the enemy.

Here’s the same sentence reworked to make you care a bit more: The exhausted soldier raised his broken shield and faced the invading army.

The actions here are fundamentally the same, but exhausted and broken invoke sympathy while invading skews negative.

The words you choose are sign posts for the reader. They indicate how to interpret the story and help your readers orient themselves and form expectations. Subtly building expectation is important because, while surprise can be effective, shock is generally numbing and confusion tends to be irritating, so word choice helps you frame things and guide your reader along.

One of the keys here is to attempt some subtlety. If every sentence about your protagonist reads like an ad campaign (effervescent, brilliant, impervious) and every sentence about your antagonist reads like a political diatribe (cruel, spineless, malicious), you’re probably overusing your sign posts. People want to know who to root for, but too much emotive language can make them feel manipulated.

Think of word choice like adding spices to food. If you put oats in boiling water, you’re making oatmeal, and the spices you use won’t change that. But if you throw in some honey and cinnamon, I know we’re headed somewhere wholesome. If you sprinkle in little discordant notes of garlic powder and cayenne, what we’re cooking is a tragedy. And if you upend an entire bottle of cinnamon, a quarter cup of nutmeg, and toss in seventeen whole cloves, I am not staying for breakfast.

Narrative distance:

Narrative or psychic distance is the space between the reader and the character, usually navigated by the intermediary figure of the narrator. Your narrator can be an omniscient figure that knows the thoughts, feelings, and intentions of every character in the world. Or your narrator could be sitting on the shoulder of your main character, close enough to hear their thoughts and know their story but not so close that they speak with the character’s voice. Or your narrator could be your character.

If you want to ramp up emotion, you usually want a narrator who is very close to one character (or, alternatively, to separate characters in turn). But you don’t have to stay at one distance for the whole story, and, just like word choice, shifts in narrative distance can be helpful indicators to your reader about the story and the characters.

A sudden, dramatic shift in narrative distance is quite jarring, like a sudden zoom-in during a movie. It can be effective, but it’ll lose its punch if it’s overused. Generally, if you want to shift narrative distance, you should build to it slowly. Here’s an example of shifting from a distant third person to a closer third person:

They wake the Soldier because the archer is missing. He has a habit of slipping his lead, disappearing post-mission. The chase grew tedious years ago, but the Soldier runs it just the same. He’ll do as he’s told. But it bothers him, when he lets it. The why.

Why does he do this? the Soldier wonders, when he shouldn’t, when it isn’t his place. Where is he going? he thinks, when he can’t stop himself. Who is he running to? But he tries to think nothing at all.

Another trick of narrative distance is to suddenly pull back to show a character who’s been compromised, shocked, or deeply hurt by something. Imagine spending a long time in a close Bucky perspective, hearing his thoughts, and then being abruptly walloped across the face with: The machine went quiet, and the Soldier opened his eyes. Zooming out can emphasize what’s been lost. Because you aren’t just taking the soul of Bucky Barnes right out of him, you’re also taking that closeness away from the reader. You’re silencing the voice they’ve been listening to.

Whether you zoom in or out during highly emotional moments depends on what you’re trying to accomplish and also on who’s involved.  Some characters have loud, messy emotions that will get louder when they’re hurt. Some characters will freeze over and push a narrator further away. You can use narrative distance to show a character slowly opening up or suddenly slamming a door. But you need the reader to have a solid understanding of the character in order to follow what the shift means, which leads to the next component.

Know your characters:

So, here’s the thing. You gotta Velveteen Rabbit this. Every character is Tinker Bell. If you stop believing, they die.

If you want people to care about these characters, you have to treat them like living, breathing, fully feeling people. They have favorite colors. They have phobias. They have Friday night plans and blisters from new shoes and sesame seeds stuck in their teeth. They have superstitions and secrets. You don’t need to know all of these facts, but you should try to give the impression that someone could know them. The more real your characters are, the more we’re going to care about them.

Since this is fanfiction, you start with a receptive audience. Your readers are fond of these characters. Figure out why. Figure out which parts of the character you can relate to and dig in until you feel like you can understand the parts of them you can’t relate to.

Try to collect things that make you feel close to that character. I always have music playing when I’m writing, so I make playlists for characters and playlists for stories. If I feel like I’m losing a character, I’ll go back to their playlist. But you could also use Pinterest boards, reread favorite fics or comics, rewatch movies or fanvids, or spend an unreasonable amount of time researching bows and tactical knives. Whatever works!

Also, remember, your characters don’t know what story they’re in. They don’t know it’s going to end well (or terribly). Maintain that tension, because that’s where the emotions are. When you watch a good horror movie, you’re not really scared of the monster. You’re scared for the characters, because they don’t know if they’re going to survive.

Emotions come from the characters. That’s why it’s still sad that Tony Stark dies, no matter how many times you watch it happen. Tony Stark was brave and flawed and usually right and often sarcastic, and it hurts to watch him die because that’s a full, unique human we’re losing. We know him well enough to know he’s choosing to sacrifice himself and why he made that choice and who will mourn him.

Know your characters, and let them be messy and weird and wrong and hopeful and cantankerous and unique. Fear is relatable, flaws are relatable, and awkward, ungainly, stubborn progress is relatable. Just remember what it is that makes their progress their progress because, if you can swap Dominic Toretto in for Ted Lasso and have the exact same story, you’ve probably lost your characters.

Plan your emotional trajectory:

Okay, time to get a bit technical. This is for people who like to plan. For those terrifying, godlike writers who just sit down and write, this might not be helpful. For my fellow planners:

There’s a theory (which you can get a general overview about here or, if you’re very into data, right here) that there are six core emotional trajectories in narratives:

1)      Rags to riches (rise)

2)      Riches to rags (fall)

3)      Man in a hole (fall then rise)

4)      Icarus (rise then fall)

5)      Cinderella (rise then fall then rise)

6)      Oedipus (fall then rise then fall)

Since rise and fall can mean different things, I find it helpful to combine these building blocks with emotional axes, which you can find some examples of here.

So, basically, for my winterhawk baseball au Got a Heart in Me, I Swear, I planned to follow the “man in a hole” trajectory (fall then rise) along the anxiety-confidence emotional axis with some bleedover from the humiliation-pride axis. Which basically means Clint started comfortable enough, nosedived deep into anxiety and humiliation, and then slowly built his way to confidence over the rest of the fic.

If the listed axes don’t appeal to you, you can very easily create your own. Just think of an emotion, identify what links it to its inverse, and then list the related emotions between the two opposites. Disgust and adoration are opposites, but they’re linked by attention, right? You can’t ignore something you find disgusting or adorable. So, here’s an example emotional axis you could follow: Disgust – Resentment – Obsession – Fascination – Reverence – Adoration. Enemies to lovers, anyone?

Emotional axes help provide a natural framework for your character’s emotional trajectory. They can be subtle; you don’t have to start on one end of the spectrum and go all the way to the other. A story that moves just a step or two on an emotional axis can be incredibly compelling. That small progress from discomfort to hope can hit really hard if the progress feels fought-for and earned and real.

Tips for writing emotions:

·         Get physical: If you want to show an emotion instead of telling it, describe its impacts on the body. Most characters won’t think I’m embarrassed. They’ll feel a drop in their stomach like someone cut the elevator cables and a hot stinging in their face like they’ve been slapped by some disappointed version of themselves. The more visceral your descriptions, the more the reader will feel them. If you want your reader to feast on feelings, you have to set the table.

·         Dramatic zoom: When something very intense happens, shift the narrative distance. In or out is fine, but a sudden, dramatic event should result in a sudden, dramatic change in focus. Characters might hyperfocus on their physical bodies (the mechanics of breathing, the ringing in their ears, the mad animal urge toward flight) or they might be kicked so far out of their own heads that they feel like they’re dreaming or watching the scene play out from overhead. This distance is useful for two reasons: it feels real, and it allows readers to absorb the situation in pieces, without being overwhelmed by it.

·         Unreliable narrator: Some emotions can be so charged that people don’t want to own them, like grief, shame, jealousy, rage, lust, and guilt. Characters might unconsciously misrepresent these to themselves as something else. A grieving mother might insist she’s tired. A rehabilitated assassin who’s fallen in love with an absolute dork might tell himself he’s just tracking a target. Everyone knows what it’s like to lie to themselves, so this makes characters relatable. And, also, everyone likes being in on a secret, so, sometimes, this is just fun.

·         Face the monsters: We’re often conditioned not to dwell on unpleasant things, which is part of why it can be powerful to examine them in stories. From small things like inglorious emotional states (envy, cowardice, resentment) to character flaws (recklessness, withdrawal, arrogance) to personal tragedies (loss, betrayal, abandonment), the negative parts of human emotional life pack quite a punch. Acknowledge them. Not only are they relatable experiences, but redemption and recovery arcs are some of the most compelling stories we have.

[tinumiel]

Time for the tea aka I just finished Rule of Wolves

Spoiler alert...I...was kind of really disappointed by it :/

NEEDLESS TO SAY THERE’S SPOILERS OVER SPOILERS FOR KING OF SCARS AND RULE OF WOLVES BELOW THE READ MORE...Also a long ass essay no one asked for, I just needed to vent.

General Impression.

I was kind of disappointed, because the duology was sold as a Nikolai Lantsov duology, and while I definitely felt that was delivered in King of Scars, I feel like in Rule of Wolves he just sort of became a secondary character to the stories of others like Nina and Zoya (which don’t get me wrong, I love that they gain protagonism, but then why sell the whole thing as Nikolai centered?). That said, I loved Nina’s entire storyline and really enjoyed the Shu Han plot (which I think sets up quite nicely for a new, independent storyline).

Things I DID NOT like.

First I’ll speak of things that I didn’t like but more because of personal preferences. That is, things I didn’t like, but I can see why other did enjoy.

Zoyalai. I guess this has a lot to do with the fact that I am a Nikolina shipper first and a human being second and it’s hard for me to let go of a ship once I’ve invested myself in it. I wanted to like Zoyalai, and I did for the majority of King of Scars, but in Rule of Wolves, it suddenly started to feel kind of forced to me. I think they have a lot of things in common, but differ in very fundamental aspects that on the long run simply wouldn’t make them work. But more than that, I felt like their entire lovestory in Rule of Wolves was basically some kind of Nikolina AU in which everything that a very large chunk of the fandom wanted to see with Nikolai x Alina, was given to Zoya x Nikolai. It almsot felt as if Leigh Bardugo said “Oh well, the fans really wanted to see this, but since I gave the character they wanted to see in it a different ending, I’ll just give it to them but with a different character” and Zoya was just the one available for the plot. They did have some cute moments and I definitely do enjoy their relationship, but more as confidents and friends than lover interests.

Zoya’s storyline. I feel like Zoya was done dirty in Rule of Wolves, which is kind of ironic considering she ends the story with pretty much everything she dreamed of and more. But i felt like in King of Scars, Zoya went through a very interesting journey. She was always this character than sticks almost stubbornly into a certain way things should be, she doesn’t like stepping out of her comfort zone because she likes to feel in control. And in King of Scars she went through a journey in which she gradually learned to step outside the box. But I felt like for the most of Rule of Wolves, she simply reverted back, completely ignoring her changes in the previous book, until the very last minute in which she has this sudden epiphany moment about letting go, which seemed unnecessary to me since she had already experienced it in King of Scars. Secondly, on a similar note with the whole Zoyalai being a Nikolina AU with a different character, I felt like in Rule of Wolves Zoya was simply shoved into the alternate role many of us hoped to see Alina in. Not just as Nikolai’s partner, but as a person. Think of it, she gained this power no one else possesses, she becomes pretty much one of a kind, she becomes a queen that represent reunification. It’s basically as if she became a version of what Alina could have been, but with a different personality. A soldier queen? Alina was a soldier. A grisha queen? Alina was grisha. A suli queen? Alina was not half suli, but she is half shu, which are pretty much equally discriminated against. And finally, there’s this part in which I think it’s Nikolai refers to her as “Soldier. Summoner. Saint”. Sounds familiar? Because it’s the exact same words written on every cover of the Shadow and Bone trilogy, referring to Alina. It makes me very upset that they gave Zoya this discarded storyline for Alina instead of building up her own storyline (Not to mention: it did Alina equally dirty because she lost all of those conditions because Mal couldn’t handle being in the shadow of someone extraordinary, but that’s another story). 

Not for things I didn’t like, but for much more rational reasons.

The Darkling. When I finished reading King of Scars, I thought bringing him back was a pretty good plotwist. But it was also a tricky choice, because it coul fall into the “He was such a appealing villain tor readers in the first trilogy, I’ll bring him back to have the same success” trap. And that’s exactly what happen. I feel like if a villain (or any character really) is going to be brought back, then they have to fill in a different role from the one they originally occupied. The Darkling is basically the same. Even his conditions aren’t fundamentally that different once he gets his powers back. All the Darkling really needs are his powers, his tongue and a group of people desperate enough for someone to follow. And he had all of those things in Rule of Wolves, so it was simply repetitive. It was like the Darkling, but in rags.Plus it didn’t feel so much as a storyline, but more like a constant reminder of “LOOK HOW EVIL HE IS HE NEVER CARED FOR ANYONE. THAT QUOTE YOU PEOPLE LOVE SO MUCH ABOUT CHANGING THE WORLD IS ACTUALLY MEANINGLESS LOOK HOW MUCH HE SUCKS”. Like, I don’t need to be reminded he’s a bad guy, I am fully capable of knowing this and still liking his character. He’s a fictional character, I don’t need to be reminded of it. I’m capable of rational thought. Not to mention his ending felt like a huge nothing. “And he impaled himself to a tree”. It just felt like more of an excuse to set up for a Six of Crows #3 book. It’s just disrespectful to the fascinating character from Shadow and Bone. It basically took away everything that made him such a good character.

David dying.Fine, not much rational reasons here. It’s just doing my baby dirty. Why, oh why is Mal still alive, boring, toxic Mal who spent most of his time putting his love interest down; while David, sweet David who compromised and made an effort to do things that would make his wife happy even though it was hard for him, dies? It’s just cruel. 

All in all, I felt like the Ravka storyline pretty much fell apart in Rule of Wolves. I almsot felt tempted to skip it if it wasn’t because I didn’t want to miss any Nikolai quotes. I felt like Leigh Bardugo doesn’t really know what to do with the characters, and it became pretty obvious to me during the titanium heist with the special guest starring of the Crows. In like two chapters, I felt like Kaz, Jesper and Wylan were more smoothly written than any of the Ravkans. Which was really sad for me, considering how Nikolai is my favorite character in the entire verse, and Zoya was such an amazing character in the original series (and in KOS too).

What I DID LIKE.

Nina’s storlyine. Just, all of it. It was exciting, and dynamic, and you could perceive Nina’s character arc while still never straying into ooc territory. The way her griedf was treated, her loyalties, her desire to fight, her desire for revenge but also her desire to honor Matthias’s memory. All of it was so flawlessly written. I thought I’d be bored with her stuck in the Ice Court, but it was the storyline I actually enjoyed the most. The Fjerdan intrigues and political battles, and Nina in the midst of it. trying to do what was best for her country and the people she loved.  I love what was done to her character.

On the same note, I love Nina and Hanne. This, unlike my problem with Zoyalai, is a case in which, while I adored an original ship, I actually ended up enjoying the new one. Matthias and Nina were perfect for each other. But I loved how Hanne came to offer a new love. (I’m not sure if I should refer Hanny as she or he, so I’ll just use they until I get a better notion of what pronouns the character identifies with). It genuinely felt  like they were not a replacement for Matthias, or an upgrade. They were a love interest on their own, with their own story, not a “what if” version of another love story. Plus, Hanne is just objectively great.

The Shu-Han storyline. I didn’t even know I needed it, but it was so fascinating to read about the Shu. I find there is a lot to unpack and I really hope in the future, Leigh Bardugo will write a new series  following those characters. I loved Mayu and Ehri and grandmother Leyti. Plus, Mahki would make a great antagonist. And it would suppose a new colorfun addition to the countries we already know well, like Ravka and Fjerda, plus the city of Ketterdam.

The Crows. I know it was probably pure fan service, but I love just how well written they are, how you can really tell that Leight Bardugo has the complete hang and understanding of the characters. Plus, it’s always nice to see how my babies are doing.

FINAL THOUGHTS

All in all, I felt that the book had some highlights, but some decisions just pretty much ruined it for me. I hope the good parts are picked up and carried on in different sagas, and the rest...well, I guess I’ll keep on pretending the Ravka story finished when Alina and Nikolai were watching the stars fall and from then on, imagine they got marries, became an awesome power couple, and were the godparents of all of Genya and David’s beautiful, clever children. While Zoya looked upon all of them like “These are a pack of idiots but they are my pack of idiots and I am so proud”.

If you read this rant until the end, you’re awesome. If you liked Rule of Wolves, damn you are so lucky and I am glad you enjoyed it like I wish I had. But at least we can all join together under one common thought: Jarl Braum is a little bitch.

[pod-kozom]

on plastic surgery

so I have discussed this topic today on a great scale but I still want to touch on it again.

Shaming people for plastic surgery.

while I do understand and am aware that we live in a cruel world that is literally putting so much pressure onto us when it comes to our physical appearance, so much that we starve ourselves into illness or literally get surgery to feel a little less shittier- and while I do understand that this is fundamentally wrong (the world) and desperately needs to change I am also not ignorant about the fact that we do live in this world that makes us feel shitty when we’re fat, when our noses are crooked, our lips are thin, our tits are small. I am not ignoring that being “pretty” by social standards gives me privileges, makes me get more jobs, makes me feel better about myself. 

but what people can’t sell me is that shaming women for gettin stuff done, being mean to them, acting like they are at fault for trying to fit and meet beauty standards, saying they’re anti feminist- is helping the cause of dismantling and healing the traumas and insecurities the world gives us in any way and not actually further deepening them.

you can’t logically explain to me how it is the right way to make women feel stupid for trying to flee from being judged, for being made fun of, for being mocked by exactly doing this further and calling them insecure for it. 

I am also done with everyone being angry at women for not saying they have had surgery ‘cause how can’t y’all see how people react to women getting surgery? and if they do tell, then they’re in the wrong for persuading other people to get surgery. when we are using the argument that the beauty standards set in place are making women insecure than why are we shaming the women who are just as much a victim to those standards and try to desperately fit into them? 

I am also annoyed by how many people think that the only reason for plastic surgery is insecurity. why do you go to the hair dresser’s? why do you change your hair colour? get tattooes? piercings? why are you trying to lose just a little bit weight? if beauty standards or our appearances in general do not matter - why is shaving okay but getting lip fillers not? to what exent is trying to individually create oneself to how one sees fit, to how one feels more secure, more like their real selves, okay? 

If we stop getting plastic surgery then by that logic we have to stop every action that is distancing us from our natural selves.

I also think that people who have the nerve, the audacity, to have an opinion on someone else’s appearance in general are the ones who are insecure. I find myself a very confident person and I could not give less fcks about how someone dresses, how much someone weighs, or if someone got huge fake tits. 

I also don’t see the same people shaming women for plastic surgery trying to be self confident role models, to preach self love, to teach kids that they are fine the way they are and that they shouldn’t be judging other people based on their appearance either. I don’t see them going to university to study psyochology in order to help women with the insecurities this world puts on us and that are exactly being created by the behaviour of shaming people for their appearance in the first place. I see them judging.

you just can’t tell me that dismantling beauty standards and erasing insecurities is your concern ‘cause then you would give these women preach, you would give them love, acceptance. you would show them that you’re happy they’re happy - that if their now bigger tits, fuller lips are making a difference in their lives, making them feel a little less shitty about themselves, it does account to something. it does mean something. you would not do the exact same thing that got these women to not feel enough in the first place.

and while we’re trying to build self confidence and dismantle our insecurities, minimize them in the ways we are able to (through making our hair and putting on makeup or getting surgery or not doing any of those things but connect to our natural sides, our body hair, our imperfections) we can slowly heal and dismantle beauty standards and by that strenghten the idea of individualism, of loving who we are, of being secure with who that person is. 

I am for plastic surgery and I myself have lip fillers but I for example don’t shave and I wear make up most of the time and sometimes I look like a bimbo and sometimes I don’t wear makeup and have greasy hair and go to work like that. But I would never once think that I have the right to judge someone else for what makes them feel good abt themselves. if you wanna be make up free, go girl, I am with you. and if you want to have a big ass and get a bbl, I am with you too. it is not my place to judge how you (re)create yourself. it is my place and my duty to help you feel good about how you choose to do it, though. because we’ve already been walking the other road for too long and we know exactly that it doesn’t lead to happiness or “crushing” beauty standards. 

so to end this and summarize it, I think that shaming women for plastic surgery is deeply rooted in insecurity. I just don’t see how a secure person would think it okay to judge someone else based on their appearance, to see it their place to do so. and I wish that we would all focus on ourselves, dismantling our own insecurities in the way we see fit instead of putting this responsibility on other women by judging how they chose to do lessen theirs. and again, I am not ignorant about our world but being happier, feeling securer, more love towards ourselves as women in today’s society means something. it means something.

and no one in their right mind can tell me that that’s wrong. 

[maaji-maji-majima]

some kissing hcs for Majima?(if u can make it nsfw)

So I'm in a weird place with this. I don't want to leave you unanswered but I know you won't like the answer that I give. It has been a long time since I was active on tumblr and I'm not sure when along the timeline headcanon became synonymous with fanfiction. I appreciate fanfiction authors for their creativity, but I am not one myself. I use headcanon in the older definition of "this isn't in the source material, but it is true in my brain". They are either random things my half asleep mind thought of while walking home from work or a character analysis. At the same token your ask had crawled into my brainmeats and won't leave. So again, I apologize that this most definitely is not what you're looking for, but I hope someone out there finds this to be an interesting read.

Without further introduction, here is a character analysis of our favorite pansexual, gender fluid, emotionally stunted goblin in regards to relationships and why the he desperately needs therapy as brought to you by a different pansexual, gender fluid, emotionally stunted goblin who got therapy but probably needs more.

Trigger warnings: Abuse, self harm, mental disorders, poor coping strategies, unhealthy relationships, random tense changes, not fanfiction

Spoilers for the whole franchise, but very specifically for 0, K1, and 5.

Abuse does weird things to people's brains. In Yakuza 0 Majima has barely been out of the hole for a year. He might no longer be suffering the actual physical torture he had been subjected to the year prior, but he is still directly in the hands of his abusers and being watched every moment. He is still in a cage even if it doesn't look like one. He is depressed and likely suicidal, but doesn't follow through with those thoughts because he is determined to make sure Saejima has a home to come back to. He is willing to endure just about anything to allow Saejima a chance to exact that final moment of retribution because Saejima is the one who deserves it and Majima doesn't feel that there is any possibility for forgiveness. In all likelihood he hasn't sought out anyone for a hookup or paid company for an evening due to a combination of not feeling like he deserves anything that feels good and the fact that he's constantly being watched. The year in hole means he no longer really has a concept of privacy, but he's worried that getting close to someone, even for a few moments, could put them in danger if Sagawa or Shimano feels like holding something else over his head. It isn't worth accidentally dragging someone into his own personal hell. He no longer lives for the present, he is only living for that far-off future that he hopes isn't just a pipe dream.

Enter Makoto. At first she is a stand-in for Saejima's sister Yasuko, but it morphs rapidly from there. She is the light and kindness and hope that he hasn't seen in years and she's being dragged into his bullshit. He knows in his heart of hearts that she doesn't deserve what she is being forced into, so his mind snaps into the immediate and does everything he possibly can to save her. This is is the hill he wants to die on. Maybe, just maybe, he can end his miserable existence with a final act of good and he feels that Saejima might just be able to understand. But because he no longer has any relationships in his life that are not strictly professional or the abusers he cannot escape, he has little recollection of what a nuanced relationship or even friendship is any longer. Due to circumstance she is also the only person that he cannot keep at arm's length, no matter how desperately he tries. So he falls for her and falls hard. But in the end, after everything they go through he does the impossible. He lets her go. She has a life and a future, whereas he has neither of those. What would she do? Become his ane-san? Have some temporary happiness before she realizes she has a target on her back for the rest of her life? No. Majima believes she deserves so much more than that even though it hurts him deeply. What is one more hurt on top of everything else? He's gotten extremely good at burying his pain.

Getting to Tokyo flips a switch in Majima's brain. Like many people with mental trauma who don't have access to therapy he falls into excess as a way of self medicating. He fits virtually everything on the hedonism checklist. Drinking? Yeah. Violence? Hell yeah! Promiscuity? Yeah, but I ain't judging. Drugs? Probably, even though it isn't explicitly stated in game. Everything from his shift in personality to his wardrobe has become, intentionally or not, a defense mechanism. He has escaped from all of his abusers except for Shimano and he refuses to allow anyone to gain that kind of power over him again.

It is a double edged sword, however. His depression and PTSD are running unchecked. In all likelihood he hasn't fallen hard on vices as a way to reclaim ownership off his own body. Instead it seems more probable that he is dissociating. After everything he has been through he doesn't care what happens to his body in the long run because it isn't actually his anymore. Risky behavior, which is practically Majima's middle name, is also frequently used as a passive form of self harm because the end result is either temporarily feeling better thanks to endorphins and adrenaline or permanently feeling better after embracing death. He could achieve a similar feeling by taking up jogging and chasing a runners high, but that takes more time and energy than chugging a handle of whiskey or goading some chump into throwing hands. Sadly even now admitting to mental problems by seeking help is fairly stigmatized in Japan and it was only worse in the early 90s. Can't have a problem if no one tells you it's there, right?

Then he meets Mirei. She's intense but not wild like Majima. At that moment in time she is everything he needs. Head strong, domineering, and very, very determined. She knows exactly what buttons to press to wrap him right around her finger. And he lets her take the reigns, lets her run his life because he realizes he was doing a terrible job on his own. Better her than Shimano, right? Doing something wrong results in the cold shoulder instead of a vicious beating, and doing something right leads to more than simply the relief of avoiding a beating. He decides that making her happy is enough to make him happy. Until suddenly it isn't. He never wanted to be a father, but even the idea that he could have been was enough to cause a fundamental shift in his entire outlook on life. He could have had someone to live for, instead of just survive for. But he had no say in the matter and didn't know until the decision had been made for him. When Mirei told him she had an abortion he snapped. He hit her. The one and only time he raised his hands against her. Disgusted with himself, and wounded by her decision, he left. If he was capable of that, he knew couldn't be the person she had been trying to mold him into. He realized he was nothing but a weight around her neck dragging her down. And so that day signals the end of their short marriage. He spends the next several decades drowning in guilt for his actions while still resenting her for her choice.

That leaves us with Kiryu. Poor, oblivious Kiryu. Majima's fixation is multifaceted but in no small part due to the fact that Kiryu is one of the few people strong enough to hurt him, but is the only one that doesn't want to. And Majima just doesn't understand. After everything, he only deserves to hurt, right? Saejima, Yasuko, Makoto, Mirei. Everyone who gets too close to him ends up worse for it, so why won't Kiryu and his sense of honor seek justice on their behalf? So he does everything he possibly can to wind up Kiryu enough to Pay Attention Damnit, Fight Me. But Kiryu's response is always just flustered awkwardness because he doesn't want like fighting, it's just a part of his job, like wearing a suit or answering a phone. To Kiryu fighting isn't a thing done because it's enjoyable, it's done because it has to be. But he's still the only one who doesn't flinch when Majima brandishes a knife inches from his face.

And then Kiryu is arrested and in jail for ten years. And ten years is a long time to build someone up onto a pedestal. Like only wanting to talk about the best of a person after they've died. The same thing happened with Saejima. Build them in his mind to what he wants or needs them to be since they are not there to actively correct it. The decade is pretty miserable, going through the motions and trying to not make waves with the bigwigs while terrifying the minions into obedience. When he hears Kiryu is being released it is like waking up again. He all but waits at the taxi stand at the entrance of Kamurocho on the day of Kiryu's release, all but vibrating with excitement. It's a fight he has been waiting on for a decade, too bad it was little more than a disappointment.

So Majima decides to bring him back up to spec in that very Majima flavored way. Small fights, big fights, surprise fights. Kiryu is still reluctant because he doesn't have a reason beyond Majima's dreamed up training program he doesn't actually want to be a part of. Of course this only leads Majima to do everything possible to get under Kiryu's skin, including sharing his personal vulnerabilities while disguising them as jokes just to cause fights, but Kiryu just kind of rolls with it which leads to confusion and frustration on both sides. After a while Majima starts to get into Kiryu's hobbies, like pocket circuit, ostensibly as another form of picking a fight. And he discovers he actually enjoys a lot of it. And they are both too dense and emotionally stunted to realize they're basically dating at this point. At multiple points Majima takes potentially lethal blows meant for Kiryu and the excuse that he is the only one allowed to kill Kiryu is very, very thin. He just can't quite admit out loud that he doesn't want to see Kiryu truly hurt because that's weakness and he is Not Weak (tm).

Shimano's death and Kiryu's departure from the clan come as a whirlwind that destroys him all over again. He's left directionless. So he leaves the Tojo in an attempt to find his own way in the world, for the first time in over twenty years.

I think I need to call it here for now. I know I've left out Saejima and Daigo, among others, but I've been working on this for days and my progress has been eaten twice and I just don't have the energy to keep going right at this time. Maybe some day in the future I'll find the time and energy to write out the rest for all the other games.

tl;dr What Majima wants and what he needs are two different things. He wants to fightfuck, but he needs to be bear hugged into submission so that he can have that mental breakdown he's been carefully bottling up for over thirty years. He needs a good, ugly cry. And therapy. Lots and lots of therapy.

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 129 Thoughts

This month: More people screaming and dying.

Next month: Probably more people screaming and dying.

Eventually: Just a whole heck of a lot of screaming.

(Not dying because there will be no more people.

They will be dead.)

Sooooooooooooooo.

Uh.

This chapter has people screaming and dying in it.

As well as the continuing strangeness of actively rooting for Reiner and Annie.

Ayep.

Ding-dong, Magath is dead?

Yet again, we land on the problem of a chapter that is largely self-explanatory, and the perhaps deeper problem of people committing themselves to doing a thing once a month, even if they’re not sure they’re able to do said thing. There’s good stuff here, I’m just hesitant to start talking about it lest it comes out like a random spew of instantly forgettable bullet points.

Since I don’t care, I guess we’ll start with Magath dying.

I don’t care. Moving on!

Theo Magath is a man who has always cared for the children under his command. Even though they’re Eldian, he has routinely gone above the expected amount of effort in securing their safety. He is the one who worries and waits for Reiner, Annie, Bertolt, and Marcel to come home. He is the one who destroys the worst of the military he’s a part of so they can stop depending on titans. He cares.

What a fucking bastard.

Keith Shadis dies with him. After a life of trying to make himself special, putting lives at risk every step of the way, he finds an appropriate time to make his exit. He’s the one who raises every fighter out in the port. He’s the one who has watched as the other instructors kill them so that they can find the ones strong enough to make the cut.

He’s the one who picks Eren up and brings him back to his bed after he inherits his father’s burden.

One thing I do think is important to note, whenever I’m inspired to say, ‘Fuck Marley,’ is that Paradis is not great.

Paradis has child soldiers too. They’re just slightly older.

Paradis fully expects their soldiers to go out and die too. Their consent just skates through needing air quotes.

Paradis has a corrupt government run by self-interest -- until they have a coup.

Magath’s job, his entire career, has been to make the most of the enslaved Eldian lives he’s been handed on a platter. It is his job to train children up to murder people. If they are not good enough at murder, they will be fed to other children.

Shadis feels more comfortable. He’s been a reasonable authority figure for most of the manga, with his worst crimes being in his past, and even that reveal coming with a greater show of humanity than any other displayed that night. He tries to run Eren out of the military before he destroys himself. He worries for the boy, and gives a voice to the struggle of trying to be special when you’re most gifted at fucking up.

Paradis��� military, at the start of the main plot, gets its recruits via shaming teenagers into being willing to die, or starving teenagers into being willing to die.

The primary difference between it and Marley’s system is that in that section of the totem pole, the oppression level is relatively neutral. The wall systems are kind of fucked, the nobility is kind of awful -- but like. Their last genocide was what, two years ago? And it was killing poor people, not people people.

Everyone in Paradis’ military has to deal with the fact that they’re in a shrinking safe space and they’re either going to starve, or monsters are going to eat them. That is the great equalizing force. If their commanding officer fucks up, he is going to get eaten. If the person next to them fucks up, they are going to get eaten.

They are not crouching down, approaching tiny children, and explaining that it is for the good of humanity that they are the ones eaten because their blood is dirty. Anymore.

Fuck Marley. Fuck its internment camps, fuck its slavery, fuck its brainwashing, fuck how it turned Good Eldians and Bad Eldians into war rhetoric. Fuck just about everything it has to offer.

Paradis is fucked up in the spirit of everyone there being equally fucked (unless you’re rich) (or nobility). Marley is fucked up because it’s made being fascist, warmongering assholes a national policy.

So you have two men on a boat waiting to die. They’ve both sent children to their deaths. They’ve both pushed over the lines trying to let their uniqueness carry change instead of doing the difficult legwork it actually takes.

One of them is not an active agent of genocide.

One of them is.

They both have sad feelings.

It is sad.

The important part is however badly they fucked up, the traumatized children they’re leaving behind are about to be more traumatized, and they’ve realized what a bad thing this is.

Only not really because Keith did his job, did his first job badly enough to find a new job, did that new job, and has continued doing that new job up to the point where he’s blowing himself up, and has no particular qualms about any of that since he’s pretty much been acting his conscience the whole time.

I’m lingering on this because you have both people who trained up our primary cast making a choice for the good of humanity, and dying the same way. It is a clear and obvious parallel, and it is being milked.

But it’s one of those parallels that makes me twitchy the longer I look at it. Probably because of that conscience part. These men play the same role, but besides their stages having massive differences, their choices do as well.

Magath’s conscience doesn’t stop him from shouting racist rhetoric at a preteen on a battlefield. In his introductory scene.

Shadis’ conscience, however warped some of the intent is, leads to him quitting and passing his job up to someone more qualified.

...Essentially, Shadis is kind of a bastard for a lot of things, but Magath is a fascist bastard, and continues to be a fascist bastard even when he takes steps to overthrow a fascist regime, and I know and appreciate that Magath realizes this and feels bad about it, but it’s hard not to resent the manga comparing Shadis and Magath so strongly.

Magath’s fucked up a lot. It’s good he admits it.

Shadis feels like one more person who sees death as all he has to offer the world.

In a series that actively opposes that line of thought whenever it comes up, it’s really difficult not to find the whole dynamic frustrating. Yes, the manga doesn’t say these two people are the same. They’re just in the exact same boat making the exact same decision.

Like that other group over in their boat.

Shadis is looking to die. Magath is looking to make a last stand.

I don’t think I’m doing a great job of putting into words why it’s so aggravating for me, except, you know. Fuck Marley. Also Magath helped cause all of this. Keith’s sort of sat around feeling various forms of guilt for years over things he screwed up because he was trying so hard.

Shadis forfeits his life.

Every other time someone with that mindset is ready to die, it’s met with no, you’re not done yet.

Shadis doesn’t get that. He’s done. Magath is the only one there to tell him otherwise, and Magath has his own problems.

There’s a vibe here that these two old teachers have outlived their purpose. Their kids are grown, for better and worse, and they’re the ones who will control the turn of the future. I don’t oppose them making that decision, but in Shadis’ case, it really comes off as him being cool with whatever, now that he’s made his stand.

Ugh. I don’t like it, but articulating why is probably best represented by me sulking and crossing my arms. Artistically, I get it. They’re the same piece on opposite ends of a chessboard.

But they’re different people and aaaargh.

Anyway, we continue the proud tradition of making Gabi cry.

Sorry about your life, Gabi.

In other news, we continue to not have any way to stop Eren.

Like.

At all.

We have an estimate of four days before Eren succeeds in wiping out a continent.

Their only chance of stopping that is powering up an airship, using some of that good ol’ talk-no-jutsu, or killing Eren.

If they take the route of killing Eren, all of the Colossals he’s been ordering on their walk will stop being under his command. Because he will be dead. Meaning that the continent, as well as our heroes, will now have to contend with a wild hoard of Colossal Titans out for a stroll.

Which is bad.

It’s basically where Paradis started out, but worse in every possible way.

Even if they manage to have someone on their team eat Eren, there’s a good chance that OG Ymir might not react well to her savior being axed. There’s a similarly good chance that the ability to use the Founder’s power just won’t be functional.

So if they kill Eren, they will stop having intentional destruction.

Instead, we will have unintentional destruction, of which there will be a lot.

Leaving us with talk-no-jutsu.

When the last attempt at talk-no-jutsu led to Armin punching Eren and being bad at it. And Eren punching Armin and being less bad at it.

Basically, everyone’s really hoping that by communicating with Eren, they can somehow make this all go away. There is no evidence that this will work, and no evidence that any of the added backup plans will do anything but cause different problems, but by golly, they’ve completed step .5 of their 3-step plan to maybe changing their circumstances.

(Step 1: Get Air Boat Step 2: Fly Air Boat To Eren Step 3: Talk Eren Out Of Genocide)

BOY I SURE AM HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS PUTTERING ALONG WITH THAT FORWARD PROGRESS. WHAT CHAMPS. GOOD FOR YOU.

YOU’RE STILL FUCKED.

I AM SO HAPPY THAT WE ARE SPENDING ALL THIS TIME ON A PLAN THAT DOES NOT SOLVE THE FUNDAMENTAL PROBLEM OF HOW COMPLETELY FUCKED YOU ALL ARE.

IT IS NICE THAT YOU ALL FEEL LIKE YOU ARE CONTRIBUTING USEFUL THINGS TO YOUR SOCIETY. YOU DO YOU.

YOU ARE NOT ACTUALLY HELPING.

BUT MORE OF YOUR FRIENDS ARE DEAD FOR A GOOD CAUSE.

I’m not upset, I would just really like all of this to feel meaningful. Right now there’s a ridiculous amount of stress and dead bodies going into a goal that could easily end up pointless.

There’s merit to that as a story, but none of that stress lands properly, because the tension of “will they save the day or won’t they” isn’t dependent on what they’re doing here. The ticking clock might be making the characters stressed, but it’s not where the consequences lie.

I will continue to complain about this every month because I can.

In more positive news, Connie is best boi and no one appreciates him they way that they should.

Once upon a time, Reiner bullied Annie into taking a more active role in murdering Marco.

One of the arguments he used to provoke her was that she saved Connie’s life.

Not long after that, Reiner and some other recruits find themselves stranded in Utgard Castle, where a titan gets in and goes after Connie. Reiner charges in, gets his arm chomped on, and through everyone’s combined efforts, the titan gets shoved out a window.

Annie and Reiner both make the choice to save Connie’s life, even though it does nothing to benefit them.

In this chapter, beheaded and missing their arms, Connie swoops in and saves both of them.

The first taste of this technically goes to Mikasa, because she can’t help being a hero. She doesn’t like Annie. Annie is about the only human being whose existence can make her lose her temper. When a soldier gets behind Annie, Mikasa is there to back her up. It’s done casually and smoothly, because Mikasa’s just that good.

We’re still left with multiple shots of Annie staring at Mikasa.

Later followed with her staring at Reiner.

Annie and Reiner are used to being the traitors. They’re the ones their friends have every reason to hate. They’re the ones who spend years living with the victims of a war they brought to their shores. They’ve never expected forgiveness. They’re condemned, and almost welcome it.

Their trio interplay is never great. Reiner is trying too hard, and shielding Bertolt. Annie gets stuck with the grunt work, and knows they’re the bad guys. They don’t get along. They’re comrades, and allies, but their friendship is never portrayed as anything but their last lifeline.

Reiner and Bertolt are friends.

Annie’s the only one who has her fight with the Survey Corps alone.

This time, Reiner’s there, and he’s protecting her.

If you dig into any combination of these relationships, there’s not exactly a shortage of rot. They’ve all hurt each other, and they all know it.

But at the end of the day, they’re all just a bunch of damaged kids looking to be found.

None of the surviving cast is without a shoulder to lean on. They’ve made the decision to be there for each other, and as bleak as circumstances are, Annie’s face spends so much time this chapter shouting that she’s never been able to have that.

Even Magath, who goes off with the intent of dying alone, doesn’t.

There’s still some human warmth left in the world, and that’s what they’re trying to protect.

Please just do it with an actual plan, I’m begging you guys.

Also, Floch gets shot! So that’s nice.

I do not see a corpse.

That is less nice.

Isayama also gave Falco a fucking birdsona titan.

We’re not without things to cheer.

Tune in next month for more screaming and dead bodies.

[kob131]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7S4gcMZL7s8

So Vexed Viewer is bitching about that scene in the latest RWBY Episode where Yang chews out Salem and refers to Summer as her mom.

So let’s get into this.

“I have had issues with the character Yang since Volume 2, one of which is that she refuses to acknowledge her mom Summer Rose-”

Where. Where did Yang imply that she doesn’t consider Summer to be her mom? Don’t try giving me that ‘But she’s trying to connect to Raven/calls Raven mom’ shit- The trope of an adopted child seeking out their lost biological parent is VERY common, which tells me people at large understand the concept that someone can consider their adoptive parent to be their parent but still long for a connection to the biologic one.

For me to accept that you do not understand this commonly understood trope is for me to assume you’re either too lazy to think about it or too stupid TO UNDERSTAND it. Neither of which reflects very well on you.

“She hasn’t acknowledge Summer as her mom since Volume 2-”

Summer hasn’t really come UP since then. She came up once in Volume 5...while Yang was highly emotional and knowing how that is, she wasn’t being rational or even necessarily true to herself.

Do you not understand yet ANOTHER basic concept?

“Yang had not one but TWO loving parents in Summer and Tai-”

Summer died when Yang was pretty young and Taiyang, while loving, STILL fucked up his parenting by shutting down. Just because her parents loved her does not mean Yang’s upbringing was perfect or anything. All that IGNORING what I said about the trope of biological parents.

“Yang did not know who Raven was until AFTER Summer died. They act like they didn’t have the same parents but they were raised by the same damn woman.”

Okay, I’m about to go on a seemingly unconnected tangent but bear with me:

I’ve never believed that you could clone someone and get an exact replica. Because the clone would have the knowledge of being a CLONE, therefore fundamentally altering the person from the moment they were created. You know, since the original wouldn’t be affected by this kind of knowledge.

The mere KNOWLEDGE of something can alter people. Like say, knowing you’re not biologically related to the person who raised you and thus altering your perception of yourself, that person and your relation. Even denying the physical connection to the missing parent and embracing the emotional connection to the present one would not be the same as if you were biologically connected, as that conclusion would come as the result of learning the info, processing the info, interpreting the info and finally accepting it in this specific way.

Vexed acting like Yang shouldn’t have her view changed by this revelation is ignorant of how people develop and think. Which, you know, is kind of a necessary tool for CRITICAL ANALYSIS OF MEDIA.

“For some reason, the writers’ decided that the memory of Summer should only matter to RUBY-”

And Taiyang. And Qrow. And Raven. And Ozpin likely. ...

And also Yang. Since, you know, the memory of Summer and that sudden revelation and shift of her memory of Summer is what is CAUSING Yang to act the way she does. If she didn’t have some kind of familial connection to Summer, she’d act differently about Raven.

“Summer raised Yang and spent more time with her than Ruby did!”

Vexed, you do know that the common image of what a parent is and how we feel about them is in part due to being biologically related to them. Just as blood isn’t the end all be all of parenting: that same blood can still affect how we view people. It’s just one factor in a complicated equation.

“So why is she being cut out of the Summer Rose stuff?”

Because she isn’t facing ideological issues that connect her to Summer like Ruby is? So there isn’t a need here? You know, basic writing?

“So why am I bringing this up?”

I already know why you’re bringing this up. And a question remains-

Where did Yang ever say Summer wasn’t her mom?

She never says she didn’t have a mom growing up, she never indicates she doesn’t feel like Summer is her mom (aside from one instance which is an odd case in general), she never says that Raven is the ONLY one who is her mom-

In all honesty, it feels more like you made a connection between Yang and Summer in that one scene in Volume 2...then disregard everything else when things don’t go as you like there.

“Yang never bringing up Summer on Volume 5 was a missed opportunity-”

Well, looks like I was right since I’ve been in this EXACT SAME situation and I know it’s because I got overly attached to a certain idea.

“Can i get a talk about their damn mother? Pretty please, with sugar on top?”

Says the man who lies constantly about the show to make the creators, especially the writers, look bad.

Honestly, you’re lucky that you aren’t served the narrative equivalent of rat poison and cyanide topped with a middle finger: it’s what you deserve.

“Yang just mentioned Summer now face to face with Salem but dur Blake?”

So Yang only mentioned Summer when face to face with Salem...the woman you just said is implied to have helped make Summer disappear...after less than two in universe days...while not mention Summer during a time where Yang is questioning more pressing matters...in a time in the show all about questioning their choices about the present situation.

... Yeah, certainly a ‘fan scenario I’m pissed isn’t written’ thing.

‘That would have made this scene so much better!’

You mean like how you thought Weiss confronting her father about unrelated matters was a good time to make it personal?

‘Oh well, too late now!’

What, did you realize your suggestions are always shallow as shit?

“See Yang fans, I want what’s best for her just like you do!”

... Except you’ve portrayed Yang fans as being obsessive yuri shippers so either you admitted you’re just as irrational...or you’re saying Bumbleby is good.

Pick your poison.

“Oh and you’re welcome.”

Sir, shitting on the countertop is not returning your meal. Please move along.

“Hahaha, just kidding...”

Really? Because you didn’t act any different aside from being extra smug...and that’s like adding black paint to a black hole.

“What are your thoughts-”

You need to let go of your fucking headcanons.

“-about Yang remembering who raised her?”

Oh...

Can’t comment on a situation that doesn’t exist, as Yang never FORGOT.

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 1. The Case Against Fairytales

'his eyes across a room tangled up in her imagination they had spent a lifetime together by the time he said hello' atticus

My brother died the same way he came into the world: silent, eyes closed, changing my life as I knew it. 

We spent our whole lives trying to convince anyone we could that we were as regular as they were, but here's the first fundamentally different thing when you are royal: the meaning of the word ‘everyone’. 

In our case, we usually mean anyone in the country, most of the international media, and at least a sizeable majority of the world's population. It's not that everyone knew us... it's just that enough people did. Enough for it to be easier to call them 'everyone'. 

When my brother Louis was born, mom had been rushed to the hospital in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. The press was notified, they promptly set up camp at the hospital entrance, and the people started prayer campaigns to the safe arrival of their new prince and heir. Everyone rejoiced at his arrival. I remember, I was there. 

At three years-old, it felt like everyone was every single person in the planet. It was mostly just the people in our country; to everyone else, his birth was a quick, short line of announcement, maybe some notice to the fact that the newborn baby boy was taking his older sister's place as heir, and not much else. 

When he died, everyone was every single person in the planet. The second thing fundamentally different when you are a royal: from a very early age you must learn that tragedy sells more than joy. And in any constitutional monarchy country, a royal family is merely another commodity.

A few people talked about my early graduation from University. A lot more people talked about my boyfriend breaking up with me. There were a few articles about my little sister's victory at the ice-skating junior final. When she fell on her face in front of the cameras while attempting a risky move, she went viral. When my brother came into our lives, a few people took notice. 

When he left us, everyone did.

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

I, too, am a victim of culture appropriation. Since the dawn of time, from the moment humankind developed communication skills, there has been storytelling. And for the past few thousands of years most stories that parents tell their young as they tuck them into their blankets every night, have been about my culture. As far as that goes, it is not the most damaging kind of culture appropriation. But I have a duty today, and I will not shy away from it. I am sorry to say I must, and will, shatter the beautiful image of fairytales that kids have been fed for so many years now. 

I know what you are thinking – oh, boo-hoo, the poor little princess girl; is life too difficult in your beautiful palace with all the money a person could ever need? And yes, I know. I am not a victim. The same colonialism that placed my ancestors, and therefore, me, in the position of privilege and power I am in today has created many more actual victims around the world. But that is also why I must tell this story the way it was always meant to be told: truthfully. With all the weird, awkward, awful, bits and pieces that fairytales tend to skip. 

Fairytales would, for instance, skip straight to the grand, majestic welcome ceremony between the Queen of the United Kingdom and the King of Savoy in a sun floored courtyard with guards on tall, furry black hats strutting around, standing in a red-carpeted dais, with a handsome prince making eyes at me. But in my story, we will start with the train. 

That’s right, in modern fairytales you don’t take a lovely carriage ride to a neighboring kingdom. You take a train there – a commercial train, if you can, because modern times beg for demonstrating to the masses that the Monarch isn’t throwing money around. We were trying to highlight the easy routes of access to our neighbors to the northeast, and so we took the ferry across the Celtic Sea to Hugh Town Island and from there, Eurostar number 2 train that made a quick stop in Penzance, UK, and then went straight to London. 

The train ride isn’t comfortable – even if you have a first class private car. It’s bumpy and crowded and a terrible place to spend three straight hours. On that particular morning, I was in our car with my father, his household secretary Auguste, my private aide, Cadie, and a few other staff members. 

In fairytale world, when a princess does not look the part, there is usually the appearance of a fairy godmother who sings a nice song and magically transforms her into a Proper Princess™. There is no fairy godmothers when you are a real princess- real ones, sure, but they are not magical-, but you do learn from an early age what a Proper Princess™ should look like, act like, and sound like, and god forbid you don't. 

In the train that day, I heard all that was keeping me from being Proper™ from Auguste, who was in many ways the exact opposite of a fairy godmother. He had all the menacing authority of one, with none of the charm. He also didn’t have wings or a sparkly wand; he had greying short hair, and thin, small, reading glasses that he always pushed down to the tip of his nose to look above, which made me wonder what was the point of the glasses at all.

Before our arrival, I had to change my lipstick, which was too dark, my dress, which was too short at the daring height of above my knees, my shoes, which were open toed and therefore wrong, and finally, make sure to brush my hair once more.

My parents never subscribed to the idea that we were forbidden to do anything. They were raised on stern rules and heavily traditional costumes and wanted their kids to live more freely. So, growing up, they revolutionarily told us that we were free to be whoever we wanted to be – in private. In public, we had an obligation to be Proper™. After all, as I heard repeatedly growing up: royals don’t make mistakes, we make history; and history remembers.

So, yes. I, a grown, 25 years-old, law-school graduate, bar-approved acquisitions lawyer, changed out of my dress into a more proper one because my dad asked. Because as a princess, you’re never just yourself; you’re the country. And if your country comes from a Roman Catholic tradition, your hemlines must reflect that, no matter what century it is.

The country in question was just to the south of the United Kingdom, west of France, a large island named Savoie. The English call it Savoy, which is how it was pronounced anyway. It was originally populated by the Irish, but over the years it was conquered by the English, the Spanish, and the Portuguese until finally, in the 13th Century, it was conquered by France. It was bigger than Ireland, but smaller than England, and one of the biggest GDPs in the world, with a population of 49 million. Under the reign of Louis XV, however, France lost most of its possessions after its defeat in the Seven Years' War, and to secure Savoy, the king sent part of the court to live there and to reign in his stead as his emissaries. Louis XV's reign grew weak, including his ill-advised financial, political and military decisions, which discredited the monarchy and arguably led to the French Revolution 15 years after his death. France dealt with its dissatisfaction by revolting, Savoy however, secluded away at sea, decided to declare independence before the Revolution had even taken steam. The political leaders of the Island reached an agreement with the king's emissary, Prince Louis, the highest ranking monarch on the island; in exchange for support for the severance of all connection to France, he was then made King Louis I of Savoy. The Royal House of Savoy grew steady and strong by protecting its people and assuring them a freer, better life than the one they'd known under French reign.

A few years later, I sat on that train in front of the current King of Savoy. My father. 

“You look beautiful, Maggie.”

“Thank you.” 

“The other dress was beautiful as well. Just not for today.”

“Mm-hm.”

A moment of silence went by. I picked up my phone and checked my emails. There was one from Sophie with the subject ‘urgent!’ so I clicked in it feeling my heart race.

It read,

‘Marie, I’m sorry to bother you on your days off, but the depositions got moved up to Monday and we can’t find the notes on the manager deposition, you were the one who did them. Is there any chance you have a copy and if so can you send them to me? Enjoy England! XO Soph’

Sighing, I put down my phone and quickly found my laptop on my suitcase. I turned it on as I replied to Sophie’s email to tell her to expect my deposition notes shortly. 

“You know if we could I’d let you wear whatever you wanted.” Dad added as I logged into my computer.

“I do.”

I moved quickly through my folders realizing the most recent update on my notes hadn’t been uploaded to the cloud. Sighing, I logged on to the train WiFi and checked the storage service online. It didn’t connect.

“Honestly, darling, you look even prettier with this dress.”

I looked up, mentally wondering if the previous versions of the notes would be useful.

“This isn’t about the dress.”

I realized, then, that it wouldn’t matter anyway because I wouldn’t be able to send them to Sophie without internet. I looked out the window, realizing perhaps too late that we were in the tunnel, underwater. Of course there wasn’t internet.

“Well, what is it about?” Dad asked, putting his book marker back inside the page he was on and laying down the book to give me his full attention.

“Work, papa. I have a job.”

“Yes, and it’s your day off. Maybe you should try and turn off from work for the next few days?”

I smiled down to my computer, “maybe this is a conversation for another time.”

Dad adjusted his posture, looking a little taller, and looked around the room to Cadie and Auguste sitting in a booth nearby with our private hair and make-up artist, and dad’s footman, and personal aide.

“Excuse me, everyone, would you be so kind as to give us the room? Or, uh, the car? There is a little lounge outside, isn’t there?”

“Of course, sir.” Auguste said, jumping up immediately with the aide, and Cadie and Cass, the make-up artist, followed.

After they had left and closed the door behind them, I looked at my father. He lurched back in his seat and smiled at me. 

“Go on,” he said. “If you don’t scream I don’t think they’ll hear us.”

“Why would I scream?”

“I don’t know, Maggie. But I don’t know why you would be so passive aggressive, either. Can you tell me?”

“What do you want, dad?” 

In truth, I added the ‘dad’ at the end of the sentence to make it sound less aggressive, but as he stared at me, I felt uncomfortable not explaining myself.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”, I asked, tiredly. “I’m here, wearing a proper, long, not-slutty dress-“

“No one here used that word-“

“My toes will be perfectly hidden away when we arrive, I have hidden my ugly, evil legs under some stockings-“

“Really, Maggie, no one said your legs were-“

“My make-up is light and my hair is simple and non-threatening. I know not to smile too much or too little and to let the adults lead the conversation”, I said, the word ‘adults’ dangling bitterly from me lips. “And not to walk ahead of you, but always behind, taking your lead.”

“You make it sound so stiff and calculated.”

“And I have taken time off of work to be here.” I said. “All other Junior Associates are working overtime and through weekends to cash in as many billable hours as possible to be promoted to Full-time Associates, and instead I took off four days to travel with my dad.”

“Work, for work!”

“So, again, what do you want? How else am I not meeting your expectations?”

I spoke calmly, gently, and as low a volume as I could just to confront his joke not a minute before about how if I didn’t scream the others wouldn’t hear us. I made sure to be as poised and contained as I could. He heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry you had to take time off work.” 

I waited, as he stared in his usual lovingly, patient way. I smiled, more as a peace offering than genuinely. 

“You know very well they won’t fire you.”

Still, I was quiet, smiling as sincerely as I could. 

“And I know that isn’t fair, but there’s nothing I can do about it. So tell me something I can do and I will.”

“Okay.” I said, nodding. “I want your honesty. Don’t treat me like a child you need to protect, don’t patronize me. All I want is an honest answer.”

He adjusted himself in his seat and cleared his throat. “Alright. Go on.”

“Why am I here, papa?”

He blinked, seemingly confused. I could tell he expected a harder question.

“Your- Because your mother sprained her ankle?” he answered, still unsure. “What- do you mean philosophically? Why are any of us here, really? I don’t understand.”

I tried not to smile. “I mean I have a life. I am not your heir. Louis is your heir, it is his job to help you when mom has emergencies.”

He sighed deeply, finally arriving at the same page where I was.

“Your brother is in school.” He said. “And you are our oldest child. So, I’m sorry if it disrupts your life, Maggie. But you are needed.”

“And after school?” I asked “His graduation is in 6 months. Are you telling me that after he graduates university and moves back home, when he is starting his career, maybe moving to the capital, when you and mom have an emergency, you will call him up instead of me?”

He gave the table a sad smile. “If that is your wish, yes.”

“So that’s all, then?” I confirmed, suspiciously. “He moves back after graduation and you will give me the space I need?”

He smiled. “Is that what you want, then?” it wasn’t a confirmation. It was a tone of accomplishment. Of finally realizing what was it that I wanted, as if this entire conversation that’s what he had been trying to find out.

“I went to school for years. I interned for a year. I studied hard for the bar exams in America and Savoy. Yes, dad, I want to use the degree I worked hard for.”

“Okay, then. We will give you space.” He said. “Space from us, to be who you want to be. To be normal.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling, slightly amused at his dramatics. “That is not what I meant.”

“But it is accurate.”

“Papa...” I sighed.

“I’m just saying, sweetheart, I understand.” He insisted. “It’s why you went to America for University, it’s why you are based on the capital now. As long as you’re too close to us, you can’t live a normal life.”

“I can never live a normal life. We are not normal.”

“But you wish to try.”

I chuckled. “How?! You said it yourself, they will never fire me. My firm, I mean. Wherever I am, I am never just me and my degree and my career. People look at me and see you, as if I am you. I am their King. I am the Royal Family of Savoy. They’ll never take me seriously or afford me the same opportunities as everyone, because I am not everyone.”

He nodded, slowly, then sighed. “Yikes. You’re right. That sounds tough.”

“And I’m the passive aggressive one?”

“Job security and the attention of your bosses. That sounds awful.”

“Papa...”

“You want the space to dedicate yourself to your career without us pulling you away for royal work. Is that it? Okay. You got it. As soon as your brother is back from University, I will make sure you’re only needed for official events, and only if you’re not working.” 

He sounded serious now. Sincere as when he delivered the End of Year address every Christmas, which was meaningful. Getting dad to afford me the same seriousness he afforded his subjects was as much seriousness as I could get from him. Still, there was no mistaking the sadness in his eyes. 

“Even before his affirmation ceremony?” I asked, trying to sniff around for a trick.

The affirmation ceremony was meant to make clear to the country that an heir to throne had the seal of approval of the Monarch, and it usually happened when the heir was 21 years of age, to signify the Monarch believed in the event of a tragedy, the heir was ready to rule.  In modern times, it meant an heir was ready to start working as a full-time royal. Though my brother was 22, the family had decided to wait until he had graduated university to do his ceremony. 

Dad took longer than I wished, but finally, he nodded. “Yes. I promise.”

If you’re paying attention, then you might have noticed the math doesn’t add up. How come my 22 years-old brother is the heir when I said I am 25, the oldest child? Well, as with most fairytales, as well as with most of life, the problem is the patriarchy. For the thing is, though I was older than Louis by three years, because I was born a girl, he became the heir when he was born. So, at three, I went from future-Queen to lower ranking older sister. 

It wasn’t unusual, my father himself had two older sisters who were lower than him and his brothers in the line of succession. As a result we had older cousins who we outranked. I cared about all this at 25 the same as when I was 3: not at all. 

Absolute primogeniture law was passed in Savoy when I was 5, propelled by my birth and the new times. It was, however, not retroactive. This meant the law was changed for future births, not past ones, so all girls born after the law came into effect would be heirs in their own right, no matter how many brothers they got after, and all girls born before would go into history as having missed it by ‘just a bit’.

Louis and I, though, didn’t sit around having long discussions about who would be a better ruler. There has never been an instance in which we were arguing and I yelled something like, “first you stole my throne and now you stole my cookies! I hate you!”. For us this was just a little footnote in the family tree. A little fun fact to tell our future kids one day. And although I couldn’t remember what it felt like, I always knew it was much better not having to be the Crown Princess of Savoy.

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

When we finally reached Penzance, the small town in the tip of the isle of England where sat the second Eurostar station, I was able to finally connect to the internet. My father left our train car to walk about with his security because he wanted to witness the new English policy of installing a check-point at the entry due to the immigrant crisis – a huge part of why we were there. While he did that, I sent Sophie my notes on the deposition, and answered some messages.

There was one from Louis, my aforementioned brother:

‘are you close?’

And one from our baby sister, Lourdes:

‘what do you think??!!!!!!!!’, with an attachment of two videos.

And, lastly, one from my mother, Her Majesty Queen Amelie-Elyse, back home with a sprained ankle.

‘Hope all is well! Let me know when you’re with your brother. Don’t forget to let your hair down before leaving the train!’

She didn’t mean it in a philosophical, have fun kind of way. She literally meant let my hair down, apparently it softened my features. 

I replied to her with a selfie, with my hair properly brushed and down, in preparation for the arrival in London, which was close now. Let Louis know we were almost there. And sent a quick, uncommitted ‘woah!’ to my sister, without opening her attachments. They were always the same: videos of her practicing. There was only so much ice skating I could watch in a lifetime.

My mom answered my text with, “why did you change your dress?!”

I sighed, getting ready to justify this decision as well, already anticipating she would argue that the fascinator wouldn’t go with this one dress, so I told her I already had another fascinator standing by. 

Growing up with fairytales they don’t tell you about the little annoying details. Characters who are annoying usually are the villains, the ones the Princess escapes from, usually saved by the prince. They don’t tell you sometimes, actually a lot of the times, the people you love can be equally as annoying. 

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

When we arrived at the station in London, I was already wearing my disc fascinator in a light shade of blue matching both my lace dress, this time reaching all the way to my ankles, and eyes. We were quickly greeted by the Savoyen Ambassador to England in front of the press, and escorted into government cars towards Whitehall. 

The large parade ground was a traditional courtyard in central London that usually housed ceremonies related to the military and the royal family. When we arrived, the day finally was washed in a feeling of ceremony. 

The place was lined neatly with military guards, security barricades and the Scotland Yard Police kept watchers and paparazzi at bay, the press lined up inside to have the best view of all involved. As we arrived, the traditional 41 gun salute was already sounding on. A military band was playing. People waved and yelled hello as we drove inside. I suddenly knew what to do, as if my body had the gene for it. This was one thing that was definitely genetic.

I stepped out of the car delicately, smoothly, knees together like a proper lady, polite smile on my lips in thanks to the guard who saluted as I left. My father greeted a handler who escorted us to the front of all the lined guards, where three structures had been set up: one large one in the middle, with a red-carpeted stage and a large roof, the British Royal Coat of Arms in the center with the British flag to its right and the Savoy flag to its left. Decorative flowers and elegant plants here and there. Two smaller, simpler structures to both of its sides. Inside all of them, men and women in formal suits and ties and knee-length, appropriate dresses and hats. 

We walked the grovel path to the larger structure as the band played and the press, lined up in front of this platform, took their photographs. My father climbed the steps first, quickly being received by the small, elder, lady in a lavender overcoat and matching hat, impressive set of pearls dangling from her neck. She smiled as he lowered himself down to kiss both her cheeks warmly. 

The queen then looked at me and I approached, just as our handler told Her Majesty:

“And may I present, Her Royal Highness, Princess Marie-Margueritte of Savoy.”

I lowered myself in a curtsy, and as she extended her hands to hold mine, I also kissed her cheeks, trying to avoid knocking her hat with mine. 

“Welcome.” She smiled. “I hope the ride was forgiving.”

“Very comfortable.” My father told her. “Always surprising how fast it is.”

“Yes. You’ll remember, I’m sure, the Prince of Wales.” She said, walking us to the center of the platform where another two men awaited.

My father and the Prince of Wales greeted each other warmly, they were more used to running in the same circles – royal weddings here and there, international summits and meetings, or whatever it is they do. 

“We’re so glad to have you.” He told my father. 

“I don’t know if you’ve met my daughter, Princess Marie-Margueritte.”

Smiling, I curtsied to the Prince of Wales as he held my hand, before kissing my cheeks. 

“You brighten this day, Your Royal Highness.” He told me, before stepping closer to add, in a whisper. “Sorry you have been dragged to this.”

I giggled, “I’m happy to be here, sir.”

Straightening up, he noticed my father was already greeting the man behind him. “Hopefully we won’t bore you too much. I have tried to bring someone else closer to your age. Have you met my son?”

The handler didn’t know it, but there were no introductions necessary. And yet, all I could do was smile politely as we were introduced to:

“His Royal Highness, Prince Harry of Wales.”

I wondered, for a moment, if he would acknowledge that we already knew each other. 

“It’s a pleasure, Your Royal Highness.” Holding my hand in his, he brought my knuckles to his lips. 

The answer was, obviously, no. So I lowered myself again in a curtsy as an excuse to avert my eyes from his.

I couldn’t understand why, but I had been unprepared for him. With all of Auguste’s preparation, all the briefings, with all the preachings about my appearance, no one had prepared me for him. I don’t know if it was that, like me, he was one of the youngest there, or how absurdly, almost ridiculously tall he was, or maybe how the blue in his eyes contrasted with the red of his hair, but he just… stunned me. When he kissed my hand, his eyes traveled down my legs all the way back to pierce mine, igniting a wave of electricity down my spine I was unable to control. 

He leaned back, and there we stood, hand in hand, wordlessly. 

“You can follow the King, ma’am.” Auguste whispered behind me, his voice making me jump slightly, as I quickly pulled my hand from Harry’s, not before realizing he had something scribbled on his palm.

My father and the Queen were deep in conversation, with Charles besides them, as they reached the center of the platform to watch the guards. The Queen in the middle, my father to her right, and the Prince of Wales to her left, I walked forward to stand beside my father, while Prince Harry walked to his. 

We waited just a moment, and then the band started playing the Savoy National Anthem, and the British Anthem after it. A few words said, more ceremony here and there, and the Prince Wales formally invited my father to inspect the Guards, so they left together, accompanied by one of the military leaders to walk among the rolls of guards,  as the three of us stood behind to watch.

“I was sorry to hear about your mother, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I said, looking regretful, walking towards her, closing the gap left behind by the others. “She was sorry she couldn’t be here.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious.” Prince Harry interjected.

“A sprained ankle.” I explained, looking ahead. 

“Harry is also here after a small hiccup with the Duchess of Cornwall, my daughter-in-law.” His grandmother told me. “An illness in her family, nothing serious.”

“Hopefully I’ll have time to meet her before we leave.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” She nodded. “How did you mother hurt herself?”

“Horse fall. She was never very fond of Polo, I’m afraid this will drive her further away from it.”

“Oh, that is regretful.” The Queen said. 

Harry looked at me. “Do you play?” 

“I do, sir.” 

“Harry is very good,” his grandmother told me, “he will be the one playing with you in the charity match in the coming days.”

“I look forward to-“, I started, but Harry had started the exact same sentence. We locked eyes, and chuckled.

“You first.” I said.

“Please, I insist.” He responded, cheeks reddening.

His grandmother looked between us, and then back to the uniformed men in front. She then said, in a low tone, something I would spend a large part of the upcoming months thinking obsessively about:

“Be careful with him... He will charm you, but he is a heartbreaker.”

The words astonished me so much I looked at her, unsure she had actually said them. But she had, clearly, because Harry was also looking at her, quite shocked.

“Granny!” he complained, in such a whiny tone I broke into laughter.

“Do I lie?” She asked him, grinning. It only made him look more shocked. 

“Don’t ruin my reputation in front of foreign royals!” he said, in a low tone, before looking at me. “Specially such pretty ones.”

My giggle froze in my throat under his intense glare, and I could feel my cheeks reddening.

The Queen looked at me. “Oh, you’re blushing. It’s too late, I see.”

It was.

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

Margueritte’s outfit

The ask box is open! Let me know your thoughts? And if at all possible, like this page so I know you liked it? Thank you so much!

[A/N: Attention: by continuing to read you are accepting that some sad stuff is coming. You been warned. Thanks for checking this out! Let me know your thoughts?? thanks!!!!]

[A/N2: Hey! Nat here. I wanted to talk a little more about the story we are about to go on together.

In the upcoming chapters you will be introduced to the Royal Family of Savoy, a fictitious European country right below the UK, to left of France. When I first posted a fanfiction, FIUYMI, I made the main character latina, since that’s what I am, and I had previously felt that I couldn’t relate to other characters I had read. In this one, however, I decided I wanted to write about a fictitious monarchy, and I knew I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. 

As much as I wanted at many points in the story to make the character look more like me, the idea felt like cheating: Margueritte is a blood royal, born to a life of specific privileges and hardships, and pretending she could look like the type of people who don’t have white privilege would be trying to ignore a very real issue: all monarchies - past and present - existed, lasted and gathered riches on the back of people of color. Most of their descendants still carry white and wealth privilege because these royal families, however many years ago, supported and perpetuated colonialism and white supremacy that left countless countries and their populations still recovering today.

That is a legacy Margueritte didn’t chose, and which she also doesn’t have to face, but in this story she will chose too. As you’ll see, she finds herself in a much more influential position she thought she would have, and as such she realizes she has two options: she can stick to the message her family - and other royal families - have perpetuated for generations and keep her head high, mouth and ears shut, so their legacy can survive; or she can chose to be a modern Queen who will make the institution relevant again. I want to write about this because this issue is important for the times we live in, particularly after the way the Duchess of Sussex was treated in the United Kingdom.

What that will look like will depend on who Margueritte is as a person and whose advice she takes, and that is a journey I hope you’ll take with us =) ]