#and i know it’s silly to get upset over objectively like the logical part of my brain shames me but i have to get all the sad out

[melancholyfleurs]

genuinely losing my mind this morning because the coffee shop discontinued my favourite safe food so i got the replacement the employee suggested and it’s a completely different texture and taste this is hell and i can’t explain to my boss that I’ve been crying all morning over a piece of bread because i am autistic and change feels like the end of the world hehe 😀

[night-raven-tattler]

Love beyond spoken words - part 2

Summary: Everyone has a way of saying "I love you" without using those three words.

Characters: Jamil, Rook, Idia, Sebek × GN!Reader (separate, romantic)

Other parts of the series: Ace, Jack, Azul

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Jamil was going through his personalised version of the stages of grief while stacking away the boxes of expensive fabric Kalim brought from Silk City that he promised to give to Professor Crewel

Without his knowledge, as always

But this time wasn't too bad, since you were there to help him with the boxes

And he quite enjoyed your company, so the opportunist in him simply refused to deny himself of you when you kindly offered to lend him a helping hand

He even offered you one of his hair ties when your hair kept falling on your face

You knew Jamil had a certain possesiveness over his personal belongings, so you couldn't help but feel a bit flustered at the offer

You still accepted the hair tie, however

After your finished putting the boxes away, Grim came into the room looking for you because the Headmage requested your help with some errand

And you didn't get the chance to hand Jamil his hair tie back

Jamil was surprised by how little it bothered him that his hair tie was with you; instead of being upset you took something from him like he expected he'd feel, he was somewhat glad you had something of his with you

...Maybe it was silly, it was just a hair tie after all

Yet, it almost made him feel like he was claiming you in some way-

A thought so embarassing he had to cover his whole face with his hoodie

He was walking in the hallways with Kalim as his Housewarden talked about The Great Seven know what, when Kalim suddenly stopped himself mid-rant and fished something out of his pocket

"I totally forgot! Reader bumped into me today and told me to give this to you!"

It was a small paper bag with a snake doodled on it

Jamil snatched it from Kalim, not wanting him to hold something from you any longer, and opened the bag

Inside he found a little note and two hair ties: the one he gave you, and another one that had a small charm with your favorite symbol on it

"I know you don't like when people use your things, so I wanted to give it back. I also gave you one of mine so take care of it!"

He didn't understand the logic behind you giving him your own hair tie, but he took the bag from you and hid it carefully in his pocket, where he occasionally let his hands rest throughout the day

Jamil was very curious about your little offering, so he asked you about it over text

"I wanted to offer it to you as an apology for holding onto your stuff for too long so you won't be mad at me."

Your goody-two-shoes silly logic made him chuckle

As he was about to playfully scold you for your thinking, he saw another chat bubble coming from you that made him drop his phone

"...besides, is it really that bad that I wanted you to have something of mine too?"

Cheeks burning with fluster, he texted you a quick goodnight before he put his phone onto his nightstand, face down so not even the inanimate object could see him like this

Jamil struggled with the idea of you wanting to leave your mark on him, the same selfish idea he carried in his heart

Yet, he didn't mind either of your selfishness

That's why you found Jamil's hair tie under your desk first thing in the morning, a small note attached to it

"If I will have to carry something that belongs to you with me, it wouldn't be fair if you didn't do the same."

『••✎••』

You were enjoying your break outside when you heard a sharp object hit the tree you were leaning against, and based on the piece of paper attached to it, someone special wanted to tell you something

"My love, a whisper

My arrow, a listener

A most blessed messenger

It'll seek your heart to alter

For your blush I'm after."

Your degree in the language of Rook Hunt told you several things: 1. He was on a mission to live up to his name and hunt for your heart... or something

And 2. He really liked his "arrow of love" metaphors

Rook also was likely very amused by how on the nose he was being by sending you love poems via arrow aimed at your surroundings

It happened often enough for you to become unable to differenciate between the quickening pace of your heart from the spook and the one from knowing your boyfriend wanted to remind you of his love for you

Rook had some questionable ways of making your heart skip a beat, and it was borderline annoying how good he was at getting what he wanted

Something about the message itself was a bit off to you

Wasn't counterproductive for a hunter to let its prey know that he was after it?

You never knew what Rook was about to do next, and your heartbeat quickened once again with anticipation for his next move

...which happened soon enough

If the Headmage knew of the arrow currently stuck to your door and damaging the school property, you'd be in trouble

You just wanted to rest peacefully after your classes, but it seemed like Rook had other plans

"My eyes give gentle kisses to your heart

I want to read you, I want to learn you

The world in your chest, your own flow of art

Painted in the loveliest of hues."

You looked around, suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of being watched

At this point you were convinced he was toying with you, like a cat after it caught a mouse

But Rook had plans other than to harm you...

He enjoyed the chase, maybe a bit at the expense of your heart, which would jump out of your chest at every over the top declaration of love

You could think of only one way to somewhat get back at him

The vice housewarden was scribbling in his notebook at his desk when he heard footsteps nearing his room, followed by a knock at the door

He smiled and opened the door, revealing your flustered self, fidgeting with a piece of paper in your hands

"Roses are red

You look very merry

I'm not good at writing poems

So just kiss me already."

Rook's eyes widened for a few seconds before he burst into a delighter laughter as he wrapped his arms around you

You thought his over the top affection was what affected you the most, but you were so wrong

All along, it was the little things that made your heart explode

His laughter and the beating of your heart were the only melody echoing in your ears, while your face was being admired by Rook's lovesick eyes

"As you wish, mon amour."

『••✎••』

When you and Idia started dating, you knew he was a peculiar guy

He texted you "good morning" at 5 P.M., he liked to tease you about your grades and wishing the school system was digitalized so he could hack into the school and modify your grades, and he liked gifting you small, cute robots that he built during his sleepless nights

You were dedicated to peel off every layer of your angsty, dramatic, onion of a lover and try to understand his ways of showing he cares about you

Unfortunately, the first obstacle you had to face was his way of texting you

Idia was both a genius and a smartass: he liked sending you secret messages through emojis, but he'd never give you any hint to help you decode them

You rolled your eyes as his favorite combo of emojis popped onto your screen through the notification of your messaging app

"➡️👤🛠️👆💙➡️🤪"

You suspected he either liked testing your abilities to decypher his code, or he was to afraid to outright say what he felt

It's not like Idia was shy in his affections, as peculiar as they were

It was more like he was... hesitant

Afraid, even

"I will take that as a compliment"

You watched as the chat bubble appeared on your screen, carrying Idia's reply

"whehehe did you really look at a code with unknown meaning and assumed it was positive? lmaooooo"

Both of you knew he wouldn't do that

Not because he wasn't capable of it, but because Ortho would threaten to scratch up his P.E. gear again

"Not my fault you sent me code instead of telling me how pretty we both know you think I am"

"oooooo someone's confident 💘💘💘💘"

Well, at least that one was easy enough to decypher

The code Idia sent to you always came out of nowhere, like a sudden stream of thoughts that he couldn't keep to himself

It was sweet, really, and it wasn't like you disliked his little codes

Being a gamer at heart, Idia loved games, and they were an important part of him

If Idia needed some sort of puzzle to express himself, you decided to play along

You were determined to wait until Idia became able to tell you outright how he felt

Maybe one day

That's what Idia also told himself as he stared at the sentence he kept typing and deleting over and over in your conversation

"you make my heart go wild"

Maybe one day...

『••✎••』

"And, because of General Zephyrus, royal green has become a color in Briar Valley that represents sentiments of love and affection for your beloved. It was historically used in clothing during duels by the partner that was not participating..."

You had no idea what you did to receive a special history lesson from Professor Zigvolt himself, but you loved Sebek so you listened to him attentively

It was one of the rare occasions in which he was not talking about Malleus, and it was almost cute to see how worked up he got for topics outside of his guard duty

Not like he wasn't always cute

"Are you even listening, human?!"

...You were not stupid enough to admit you kind of spaced out a little

"Yeah, you were talking about, uh... Something about green clothes?"

Sebek raised his eyebrow and watched you suspiciously, while you were trying not to avoid his piercing gaze and tell on yourself

"... Well, yes. It was a tradition for unmarried partners to express their love through green accessories, such as scarves and..."

Even if he seemed upset on the surface, Sebek was more than eager to share part of his culture with you

The way he'd get so animated about his homeland, his liege, his passions...

You could watch him all day

Unfortunately, the bell indicating the end of your break had the both of you part ways

Before Sebek walked away, he reminded you of the equestrian club's upcoming show jumping competition against Royal Sword Academy

And before he could shily request your presence, you told him you'll be there, and sent his blushy self back to his classes

You didn't want to just be there and attend, however: you wanted to show your appreciation for Sebek

And you remembered his little rant about green accessories as showcases of love in Briar Valley

Which brought you to Sam's the next day, where you bumped into Lilia

Lucky for you, since you couldn't remember which shade of green was the one Sebek was talking about...

Your eyes fell upon a light green scarf, resembling the trademark Diasomnia green, and asked Lilia if this color was good to wear

Lilia's eyes widened before his face twisted into a mischievous grin before he agreed with your choice

So you wrapped it around your wrist the day of the competition and made sure it was as easy to spot as possible

Sebek was warming up with his horse when he spotted you in the growing crowd...

...And you watched him as he almost fell off his horse when he saw the scarf wrapped around the hand you were waving at him with

You watched how he debated between going to you and resuming his warmup for what felt like an eternity, but the beginning of the competition was announced so he settled on talking to you later

On his first break, he marched right to you, red as a tomato and vaguely resembling a broken traffic light

"HUMAN! I can't believe you would do this in such a public setting without telling me first! In Briar Valley it's custom for the knight to wrap the scarf around their desired partner after the duel to signal their engagement! Was my lecture not clear enough?!"

You were used to Sebek getting randomly agitated about stuff but-

-Wait.

"ENGAGEMENT?!"

Sebek turned even redder, something you thought was impossible

"YES?! Light green is a sign of engagement!"

You head was full of questions upon questions

Did you just publicly more or less propose to Sebek?

And he was mad because you didn't tell him beforehand, not because of the accidentally proposal itself?!

Now you wanted a horse to fall off of

[theclockworkmonk]

Out of the Mouths of Babes — Chapter 4

Read on AO3

Read on FFNet

Chapter 1 on Tumblr

Chapter 2 on Tumblr

Chapter 3 on Tumblr

Written for Hinny Ficfest 2021

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

*******

Ginny had disappeared, dragged through the kitchen door, before Harry could come up with an excuse to keep her by his side. He sighed and took a long gulp from his glass of firewhiskey, welcoming the burning sensation down his throat. Whatever his family was so wound up about, Harry knew he wasn't in danger here, so he hoped the drink would dull his overactive auror instincts so he could enjoy the evening.

"So...how's the shop?" asked Harry, choosing to focus on George, "any accidental new body parts I can't see?"

"Harry, I'll have you know that we ascribe to only the highest of safety standards at Weasley Wizard Wheezes," said George with his nose in the air, "We strictly adhere to a dual-fault system to make sure a trained wizard is on-site to intervene in case of emergency."

"By that he means that he doesn't try any weird shit on himself without me there to rush him to St. Mungo's," said Ron with his mouth full, wincing as his mother smacked him in the back of the head with a wooden spoon for his language.

Harry's eyes narrowed at his best friend. "So you two are already partners now? Really wasting no time on bailing on me, aren't you?"

"Don't be a prat!" grumbled Ron. "No, like I said, it was just a thought that I had. You know, the kind of thought you would hope you could share with your best mate without him jumping down your throat?"

"Well I think it's a marvelous idea," Mrs. Weasley announced loudly from her place at the stove."

George's eyebrows shot up. "Who are you and what have you done with my mother? You're glad that another one of your sons is considering wasting his life at this silly business, instead of a respectable job at the Ministry?"

"Well, if said Ministry job involves chasing after Death Eaters every day," huffed Mrs. Weasley, "Then I suppose my nerves will take any alternative."

She sent a stern look towards Harry and pointed a threatening spoon at him, making him jump back. "You could do well to learn from Ron in that regard, Harry."

Ron was grinning ear to ear, bouncing in his seat from being the favorite child of the moment.

"There's nothing wrong with Ron doing the responsible thing." she lowered her voice to a grumble so Harry barely heard, "at least someone is."

Harry surveyed the tense atmosphere in the room again.

"Okay, what's got everyone in such a mood?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"No one's in a mood!" said Mrs. Weasley quickly.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley spoke up for the first time, and his voice too was less assuring than Harry usually found it. "I'm having trouble with a fascinating new muggle device I've discovered, would you mind giving me a hand out in the shed?"

"Oh. Sure," said Harry easily. Mr. Weasley got up from the table and led Harry outside. They entered the man's infamous tool shed, and Harry noticed new mechanical and electronic devices in various states of disassembly. Mr. Weasley gestured to his work table, where a VCR sat.

"I've heard that muggles use this to see recorded images, like a pensieve, but I've put in those black blocks, and nothing happens."

"Oh, well," said Harry, trying not to laugh, "You need to attach it to a television. It can't just work on its—"

He was interrupted by the door opening again, and Harry was surprised to see Mrs. Weasley entering the shed which he always knew her to avoid, wanting nothing to do with her husband's "nonsense" tinkering.

"Molly, what are you doing here?" Mr. Weasley asked crossly, "We agreed we wouldn't. The boys—"

"I told them I was getting apples from the orchard," his wife said dismissively. She crossed the shed and looked beseechingly at a very surprised Harry.

"Harry, dear, you know how we think of you as a part of this family. We've been wanting to say….we hope that you don't think that has changed because of you and Ginny's relationship. We know young men have trepidation about 'the girlfriend's parents,' but you're not just our daughter's boyfriend to us, you're one of our own."

Harry was as touched as he was confused. "Th-Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he said softly. "I can't tell you how much that means to me."

"And one reason we had no objection to you and Ginny dating," Mr. Weasley continued, "is that we trust you to always do right by Ginny. To always do what's best for her."

Harry looked back and forth between them, their expressions pointed and expecting.

"Well — ehem — I'll remember that. I promise to never do anything to hurt her." He meant it.

There was another moment of silence before Mrs. Weasley spoke up again.

"Sooooo…." she prompted. "We just want you to be aware that….should you decide to propose…you wouldn't have to worry—"

"What!?" Harry's heart leapt into his throat and he knew his face had turned scarlet. "Oh, no no," he said, putting his hands up. "I'm glad to have your blessing, but we're not ready to think about that yet."

Harry rubbed his neck nervously. It was only a half-lie. In truth, Harry was ready to think about that. He thought about proposing to Ginny damn near every day, in fact. But he was fairly certain that Ginny was still years away from being ready. She was fiercely proud of her independence and she was still dealing with the papers referring to her as "Harry Potter's girlfriend" before "star Harpies Chaser," even without marriage.

Mr. Weasley sighed in what seemed like disappointment and Mrs. Weasley's mouth thinned and her expression turned sour.

"Well...the roast should be done, we should all head back inside."

The Weasleys led the way out of the shed and Harry cautiously followed them. When they arrived back in the kitchen, Harry saw Bill shoot his father a stern, questioning look, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Mr. Weasley shake his head grimly, and Bill and Charlie gave Harry a glare that would make Mad-Eye Moody quake in his boots.

Harry froze and all the breath left his body. It suddenly all made sense. He was the thing that the Weasleys were so on edge about. Ginny's parents inquiring about him marrying her.

They had somehow found out that he and Ginny were living together.

Harry suddenly felt like a sheep in a cage with several wolves.

"Hey mum," said Charlie, "while you were outside, Aunt Muriel floo-called and said that the gnomes are in her attic again. Apparently she's upset at the way dad tried to take care of it last time."

"Is she sure it's actually the gnomes, or is it the doxies nesting in her hair?" Mr. Weasley grumbled as his wife shooed him into their sitting room and through their fireplace. Harry's heart was thudding in his chest as the few Weasleys he could count on to not murder him due to this secret getting out abandoned him with the curse breaker, dragon tamer, master prankster, and Ministry power-broker.

Several murderous eyes turned towards Harry.

"Look...er…" Harry stammered. "I really thought that, after everything, we had all moved past the whole 'overprotective big brothers' routine."

"Yeah, we thought we had too," said Charlie darkly, "but mum and dad's diplomatic approach clearly didn't work, so the gloves are off. I guess we never figured that the savior of the bloody wizarding world would do this to our sister."

George snorted, still finding this whole thing quite amusing. "Sorry, do this to her? Harry's the real victim here. Ginny's a nightmare already, can you imagine what living with her will be like now?"

"What the hell are you lot talking about?" Ron cut in, looking around the room in confusion.

"I think your brothers have become aware of me and Ginny's...status change," said Harry.

"Oh, that is just so typical!" huffed Hermione, crossing her arms and adopting her lecturing pose. "Ginny is perfectly capable of handling her own life and she doesn't need a bunch of chest-beating men to defend an outdated notion of her 'honour!' I still can't believe how sexist magical society can be sometimes."

"Yes, Hermione, our world is sexist, whether we like it or not" said Bill, not backing down. "You can pontificate all you want about how it's not right, or a double standard, but once the public finds out about this — and sooner or later, they will," he shot another glare at Harry, as if he wrote to the papers about it himself, "then it will change how people see her. And since she's a Quidditch star, the way people see her matters."

"Yup, can see the headlines now," George sighed dramatically, "the ambitious social climber Ginevra Weasley, raised in a pauper's home, so she used her feminine wiles to land herself this sweet gig."

"Look, ultimately, it's none of our business — no, I'm serious!" Ron finished in response to his brothers' looks of betrayal. "Look, Bill, Charlie, you two were only around when Ginny was a little girl. You didn't go to school with her. You never saw first-hand what happens when you try to meddle in her life to defend her virtue, trust me." He shivered a bit, as he remembered the traumatic memory.

"I don't even understand why we have to meddle," said Percy, "I just don't understand your logic, Harry. There's no question you would be willing to throw yourself into mortal danger all over again to protect Ginny. What you're hesitating to do is comparatively easy."

"His reasons don't matter, he should have thought of that earlier," said Charlie, pointing a threatening finger at Harry. "I don't care if this makes me a hypocrite, but you're going to do the right thing and—"

Ginny suddenly burst into the room, causing every word to fall silent. Harry knew that Ginny always hated it when people were obviously talking about her, but as he started towards her, he was surprised when he saw that her eyes were watery with tears. Ignoring all of the eyes on her, she ran straight towards Hermione, throwing her arms around her friend.

"Erm, is something wrong?" asked Hermione. She threw a questioning look to Fleur as she followed Ginny into the kitchen, but the young mother looked just as confused as anyone as she took Victoire back from Bill.

Instead of answering Hermione's question, Ginny withdrew from the hug and smacked Ron upside the head.

"Ah! What the shit!" Ron cried, rubbing the back of his head.

"Ronald, language!" scolded Mrs. Weasley, re-entering the kitchen along with her husband, making the room quite crowded.

"That's your main concern?" asked Ron, "Not the unwarranted physical assault?"

"It's not unwarranted, it's for being a stupid, forgetful git!" barked Ginny

She walked up to Harry and took his glass of firewhiskey, still mostly intact.

"I need this more than you," she informed him, and began to raise the glass to her lips.

"GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY!"

Mrs. Weasley's ear-piercing shriek caused everyone in the room to wince, and Ginny momentarily jumped behind Harry for protection. "Merlin's balls, WHAT!?"

"Molly…" Mr. Weasley cautioned.

"DO NOT 'MOLLY' ME, ARTHUR!" his wife shouted back. She had a crazed look in her eye and she was pulling at her hair. She rounded on Harry and Ginny.

"We have tried to be respectful, but you two are clearly not ready for this kind of responsibility! I am so disappointed in you both for not taking this more seriously! You haven't even given a thought to how this will affect your careers!"

"Our careers?" asked Harry, confused. "How would that possibly—"

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. He had gotten it completely wrong about what the Weasleys were talking about. The talk about responsibility, their careers, affects to Ginny's public image.

Somehow, the family had gotten word about the "honour" bestowed upon Harry by the Wizengamot, and all the implications that had for his and Ginny's future together. He supposed it wasn't too surprising that Arthur or Percy had heard about it through their Ministry connections.

He looked sideways at Ginny, and from one look he knew that she had come to the same realization. Both their faces split into wide grins as relief flooded through them that all of this drama was over something so silly. Apparently, the family somehow had the absurd idea that Harry would keep the title and actually take the status, power, and responsibilities being offered to him.

Harry and Ginny cracked up into delirious laughter, leaning on each other for support, which did nothing to help the livid look on Mrs. Weasley's face.

"Oh Merlin's beard, is that what has you all concerned? Don't worry about that," laughed Harry, waving one hand dismissively and wrapping the other around Ginny's shoulder.

"I mean, come on, we're obviously not keeping it!"

There was a moment of silence, then the entire kitchen exploded.

[tuiyla]

Sentimental Affection: Hambo, the Shirt, and Objects of Psychic Resonance

Adventure Time and the mundane, aka Daddy, why did you eat my fries?

Ever a show to be full of hidden symbolism and so much more under the surface than its 11-minute runtime would allow, Adventure Time uses seemingly mundane objects like a teddy bear or a T-shirt to convey the monumental importance of character dynamics. This doesn’t only apply to objects but actual parts of one’s self, like Finn’s arm and the interwoven significance of his many swords. And then, there’s Marceline.

Like with many of the show’s more complex aspects, this is especially prevalent in Marceline’s story. How do you stress the sheer volume of having lived for a thousand years? How do you signify the lack of letting go of the past, lack of maturity? You give a girl a teddy bear and have her hold on to it for as long as she can. And it’s not just Hambo that adds unexpected depth to Marceline’s character and her relationship with others. There’s the infamous rock shirt, which we’ll get to, and then there’s the French fries eaten by Hunson Abadeer.

As iconic as the Fry Song has become and as synonymous with the complex Abadeer father-daughter relationship as it is, it seems silly, at first glance, that Marceline would be so upset over that simple transgression. But Adventure Time has a special talent for making the mundane whimsical and significant, so through the context of the full song, through little glimpses here and there, we understand the symbolism of the fries. It’s Hunson’s disregard for Marceline’s feelings, his carelessness, his lack of understanding, that really matters.

Just a teddy in the wreckage of the world

So what about Hambo? Hambo is, for a while, everything to Marceline. Hambo is the one representation of her relationship with Simon that she has left. It’s a remnant from the wreckage of the world, a plushie given to a scared little girl by an equally scared old man. It’s the one thing Simon leaves behind when he abandons Marcy, for her own good, and summons Hunson to take care of her instead. But Hunson eats those fries and so Marceline takes the family axe instead and keeps it as safe as she keeps Hambo.

Hambo stays with Marceline long after she turns into a vampire, ever a symbol of the tragic childhood she lost and yet is stuck in. It’s not a coincidence that she’s implied to tolerate much of Ash’s jerkish behaviour but draws the line when he sells Hambo for a new wand. That’s the only thing of Simon, the real Simon that she has left and it matters more than a boyfriend who doesn’t care about that. Disregard for Hambo is disregard for her. So Marceline keeps moving all across Ooo, both to escape from this new, twisted version of Simon and to find the one thing that proves he wasn’t always like this.

You kept the shirt I gave you?

Let’s take a break from Hambo for a moment. Let’s picture a time long before Finn washed up on the shores of Ooo, before the Candy Kingdom grew into what it is today. Marceline and Bonnibel are friends, maybe more - details depend on whatever nuggets “Obsidian” gives us. For a while, it works, and Marceline gives Bonnie a rock T-shirt. That shirt is so quintessentially Marcy that it becomes a symbol of their relationship when it’s with PB. The two drift apart, though, as Bonnie becomes known as Princess Bubblegum to everyone else and Marceline leaves before she can be left behind. The shirt becomes a sort of inverse of Hambo: a token of love that’s - as Marceline initially thinks - never cared for. Bitter as she might be over this, Marcy leaves it all behind as she left Hunson with the fries. She never really got to grow beyond being that young girl who was left Hambo in the snow.

Except, Finn does come along, eventually, and he brings Bonnie and Marcy together again. It’s intense and Marceline lashes out because, well, sorry she’s such an inconvenience. But in truth, it’s Marceline who tags along to defeat the Door Lord despite having no stakes in the mater, and it’s PB who wants to get her precious possession back. Her treasure is, of course, Marceline’s shirt. The one she always has worn, just in the comfort of her own room or under something else. Not out in the open, one might say, but constantly nonetheless, even long after Marceline was gone from her life. A reminder of what they had as much as Hambo is a reminder of who Simon was to Marcy.

That’s the wonder of “What Was Missing”. It lampshades the potential cheesiness of the message, that being “the real treasure is friendship”, but it is genuine in how it portrays that message beyond what would be expected of a kids’ cartoon. Finn keeps a piece of Bubblegum’s hair, but PB is right there to hang out with whenever they want to. Bonnie keeps Marcy’s shirt because she thinks it’s as close as she’ll get to be around her again, but Marceline tagged along just for the joy of being around them. What these two examples have in common is that both Finn and PB want something more from the relationship with the actual person, something they think is unattainable, so they hold on to the objects instead of reaching out.

I’ll get your kid back, toy

So what about Hambo and Marceline reaching out to Simon? When the Ice King inevitably finds her, again, Marceline is rightfully frustrated and just about ready to pack up and move again. But she’s grown these past few years since Finn entered her life and helped her face her past demons. It breaks her heart but she starts accepting Simon back into her life. They hang out and she insists on calling him Simon, because she never stopped viewing him that way. She knows who he used to be, even if he doesn’t, and she clings onto the representation of that hope, Hambo.

Marceline is already in a much better place by the time “Sky Witch” rolls around than she was at the start of the series. She kind of has Hunson, Simon and Bonnie in her life again. It’s all a bit complicated and unresolved - ”Stakes” isn’t for another two seasons - but she’s on her way. That doesn’t mean she’s gonna let the opportunity to get Hambo back pass by, so she asks for Bonnie’s help. It’s a bit awkward but she spent all this time being angry and feeling like she wasn’t good enough when PB cared enough to at least keep the shirt, so maybe that’s as much hope as Hambo is for Simon. And that’s exactly what “Sky Witch” proves, as Bonnie’s level-headedness helps Marcy navigate Maja’s treacherous turf and gets her Hambo back.

There's only one Hambo

There’s a misconception, a common and understandable one, but a misconception nonetheless when it comes to the shirt and Hambo. When Maja says that Hambo’s psychic resonance is nothing compared to the shirt’s, it’s easy to see the implication being that the shirt is that much more important. Therefore, Marceline is that much more important to PB than Simon is to Marcy. This isn’t entirely inaccurate but I also think that what’s important here is not to put these two objects and therefore the two relationships on the same scale. It implies that we’re comparing the familial type of love between Simon and Marcy to the romantic love between Bonnie and Marcy and that’s just a false and pointless comparison. Instead, the significance once again comes through trademark Adventure Time subtlety.

“What Was Missing” was mainly the Bubbline dynamic from Marcy’s perspective: her hurt, her anger over not knowing why it all ended. The twist with the shirt at the end only hints at PB’s side of things and “Sky Witch” takes it home. From the little moments at the beginning of the episode to the revelation that PB gave up the shirt for Hambo, it’s a full package. It’s in everything, including the scene where Peebs dismisses Hambo’s importance. It’s just a doll, totally replaceable, an insinuation which insults Marcy deeply. Bonnie doesn’t necessarily get why Hambo is so important but, in a way, PB does understand. She understands, because Hambo is to Marceline what the shirt is for her: hope.

When PB gives up the shirt, she gives up the only piece of Marceline she’s had for all these centuries. It wasn’t replaceable, just like Hambo wasn’t, but by giving it up she gives Marceline her most treasured possession, her hope. And you know what else? By giving up this remnant of the past, Bonnie gets Marceline back. “Sky Witch”, then, is the beginning of their new dynamic, as the lesson from the Door Lord finally sinks in. And by equating, in a way, Hambo and the shirt, after we’ve already seen in “I Remember You” and “Simon & Marcy” how monumental that relationship is, this makes Bonnie’s devotion to Marcy clear as day.

Magic, madness, sadness, and all the rest

Hambo becomes something even bigger in “Betty”. The reason why Maja wanted Hambo and then the shirt in the first place is because Adventure Time acknowledges within the logic of its own universe how important the love poured into these objects is. She uses the magic of the shirt and Simon uses the magic of Hambo. Marceline, reluctantly, lets go of Hambo because she just got Simon back, just as PB let go of the shirt and got Marcy back. Nothing is ever that straightforward in the land of Ooo, though, so Hambo brings Betty back but it can’t save Simon. Now Marceline got a taste of the old Simon, had hope, and it lives on in the person they sacrificed Hambo for: Betty.

Betty’s hope is misguided, though. With her time jump to modern day Ooo, a journey of denial and desperation begins that leads her and the whole land down a road of magic and madness. Betty’s shenanigans is its own separate post, really, and all the themes of acceptance, denial and change they represent. What I find fascinating in this context is how, again, in true AT style, the butterfly effect did its magic and the mundane lead into the whimsical and grandiose.

Right there where you left it, lying upside down

Simon gave a little Marcy her teddy doll and Ash carelessly passed it on. Marceline gave Bubblegum a rock shirt, something so quintessentially her that it was the one thing Peebs held onto even after all those years. The shirt was a symbol of their lingering connection and its sacrifice meant the start of a new chapter. The significance of the shirt was enough to get Hambo back, which in turn was powerful enough for Simon to get Betty back. And, eventually, by moving almost literal heaven and hell, Betty brings Simon back. Everything stays, but it still changes.

The shirt is not Marceline. Hambo is not Simon. Objects are not people, nor can we only be with people if we let go of those objects. That isn’t the message the show is going for. And these objects are only catalysts for character arc and dynamics in most cases, anyway. Marceline doesn’t grow up by letting Hambo go, she succeeds in leaving the past behind in “Stakes”. And, if the “Obsidian” trailer is any indication, even that doesn’t mean she’s done with all her demons.

What the intertwined stories of Hambo and the shirt tell us is that complex, emotional stories can be told through simple objects. A teddy doll can signify a thousand years of pain and yet provide hope, while a rock T-shirt can pack some good old-fashioned queer yearning into it. Hambo and the shirt aren’t even monumental parts of Marceline’s, Simon’s and Bubblegum’s stories, even if Adventure Time finds clever ways to use them in the plot. They are just two simple things that represent so much in terms of character development and some of the show’s central dynamics, and that’s damn good storytelling.

[absolutelynochillonlydeath]

Garden Wraith

3. On the Subject of Change...

The learning curve for his new normal was…interesting to say the least. He spent close to a week in the Unknown with Beatrice and her family, though mostly in the forest so as not to freak out her parents. It was there that he learned that his more…otherworldly features came out when he was upset, which then served to upset him more and it took a few minutes for Beatrice to calm him down again. Out of curiosity and a little bit of fear, they felt beneath the curls of his dark brown hair to see if there were any signs of the antlers the Beast had, and to Wirt’s horror and mortification, he felt little nubs growing from the sides of his head. Beatrice simply snorted and compared him to a newborn faun. The subject then came up of the lantern. Both looked at it in contempt since it was a source of so much of their fears.

“So, do you really think that your soul is in there?” Beatrice asked quietly as she looked at the flickering light behind the glass. Wirt looked at the flame nervously before nodding. Since he had gotten there, he felt eerily attached to the lantern in his hands, and if that was any indication, then the whispering he occasionally heard from the trees definitely settled the matter.

“Yeah. It is.” He said softly and Beatrice nodded somberly. Both knew what that meant. The most horrific thing about his nature was now he would have to depend on the oil of Edelwood trees to survive and their source wasn’t the most pleasant of things. Wirt’s skin crawled at the very notion of what he may have to do to survive and the girl patted his back sympathetically. For now, they pushed the thought into the back of their minds. They would find whatever Edelwoods left over from the previous Beast and use Beatrice’s mill to process it like the Woodsman had. For now, though, they focused on other aspects of his powers which still included his odd animal attracting ability that Beatrice laughed at when he mentioned his affinity to birds in particular. That power, though, served to comfort him in that with the old Beast, whenever he was there, it seemed that the area itself was devoid of life. Beatrice only smiled and teased that his poet soul was drawing them there, but both were relieved. If nothing else, it served as a reminder that while Wirt may have the Beast’s powers, they were not the same. Something else that Wirt found out was that he could cloak himself in pure shadow with only his eyes to provide light, much like his predecessor. It freaked them both out but was highly useful when it came to hiding and also teleporting to different points of the Unknown. It was almost something straight out of a horror film and explained as to how the Beast could seemingly appear out of nowhere. Suffice to say, discoveries were made and in between blinking in the Unknown and waking up to the morning light filtering in through his bedroom window, it was difficult to keep track of which reality he was in when he awoke.

A transition period was the best way he could describe this part of his life. It was a bit stressful and jarring and confusing as he switched between realities and realized that time was inconsequential in the Unknown. They lived in perpetual stillness since they were already dead, so the passing of seasons were only important for the holidays and crop gathering. Due to the growing confusion, Wirt started keeping a notebook with him to track the days and give him reminders as to what was going on. To his surprise, it seemed like if he slept with an object in hand and had the desire to bring the object with him, they would also show up with him in the Unknown. The same was true in reverse. It was startling, but useful and made his life easier when waking up again. Sadly, the transition not only affected him mentally and emotionally, it also attracted plenty of attention from his family. He was already under scrutiny for how different he now treated Greg. It was a welcome change, but Wirt swore that his mom sprinkled holy water on him one morning during breakfast. They weren’t really religious, it was more of a habit from his Irish grandparents and great grandparents than anything else, but it was the principle of the matter. Either way, his stepfather snickered and Greg asked if it was alright if he could splash water on Wirt too.

Speaking of Greg, the boy immediately caught on to his elder brother’s weird behavior. It was almost impossible for Wirt to keep anything from the child, especially since he knew that the younger boy only wanted to help and keep him safe, but Wirt didn’t want to scare him. Wirt now knew from experience and a general curiosity that he could manifest his more supernatural traits into reality and it sent him into a small panic attack in the bathroom that made him realize that his eyes were glowing brightly and his anxiety was what was making it manifest. After riding it out and calming down, his eyes dulled back to their normal grey and left him paranoid as to when it would happen again. He didn’t know when his eyes would flare at school or around Greg and that made him avoid his family for a while until he had another talk with Beatrice. The girl simply rolled her eyes and smacked him upside the head.

“Oww! What was that for?!” he complained, rubbing his head and she continued to glare at him.

“You doofus. You need to tell him or you’ll only make him more worried.” She huffed and he looked down and shook his head.

“I-If it tell him, he’ll only be more scared. I promised him that the Beast wouldn’t come back and now…that’s…it’s…what I am.” He said quietly, hands clenched and trembling at his hides. His mind flashed back to their moment in the hospital. The small boy had expressed his hidden fear so well. Until that moment, Wirt hadn’t known that Greg had realized the true danger he was in. The boy had such a positive outlook on their time in the Unknown and looked jovial through most of it, even when facing down the Beast. Wirt thought that the seven-year-old just didn’t understand what was going on, but Greg was much smarter than his brother gave him credit for. That moment told Wirt everything. Greg was strong and silly and brave because that was how he could process what was happening. He took enjoyment where he could because everything else was terrifying. He may not have had the full understanding of how the Beast was tricking him or how exactly to escape, but he knew that something bad was happening and that the Unknown wasn’t where they were supposed to be. Still, throughout all that, he never lost hope. Not like Wirt did. Greg had explained to him in the early hours of the morning when he snuck into the teenager’s bed after a nightmare what had happened in the time he went missing. The Queen of Clouds, his chance to escape, his wish for Wirt, and the ultimate deal with the Beast in an attempt at release. Wirt shuddered and hugged the boy tightly through whispered apologies and sobs. That wonderful, kind child had been willing to throw away every chance he had to let his older brother go free and Wirt had never felt lower. He promised again to himself that night that he wouldn’t allow his little brother to feel such terror ever again.

Beatrice stifled a sigh at her friend’s drama, but she understood where he was coming from. Her siblings, as much as they annoyed her, she would defend with her life and she knew that Wirt was the same with Greg. Still, she highly doubted that the boy would reject his brother over this and she opened her mouth to say as much.

“Wirt, if nothing else along your little adventure, I’d like to think that I got to know your brother pretty well. Does he seem like the type to be afraid of his dorky older brother? He’s much braver than you and as soon as he figures out that you’re the same lame guy, he’ll be fine.” She said gruffly, placing her hands on his shoulders. Wirt trembled under her hands and shook his head again.

“But what if he doesn’t? He was so scared, Beatrice! I-I-I don’t think I could handle it if he looked at me like he looked at the Beast…” he whispered sadly, his eyes now flickering with pearlescent colors. He could feel the black hazing over the edges of his vision as his breathing got more ragged and for a moment, he felt himself between asleep and awake, his awareness torn between his in the Unknown body and his body in the living world from the stress he felt.

“Oh, no you don’t! You’re not waking up till we’ve finished this conversation!” Beatrice called out, now crushing the shorter teen in a bear hug that knocked the breath out of him. In retrospect, that really should not have worked, but it did and when his vision cleared and air was properly flowing through his lungs, all he saw were the red curls of Beatrice’s hair.

“S-s-sorry…” he mumbled and clung tightly to her desperately as if she was his center of gravity and without her, he could be left to drift out into the vast sky or sink into the cold ground.

“Don’t apologize for that. I get that you’re worried, even if I think it’s over nothing.” She murmured back, her grip not loosening, but she was now rubbing soothing circles over his spine.

“It’s not nothing. Its Greg.” Wirt protested and Beatrice shook her head.

“You’re underestimating him. The kid’s got an unhealthy hero worship of you and I really doubt that a little thing like accidentally getting a freaky wooden death spirit’s powers is gonna deter him. He’s way more persistent than that.” he huffed, chuckling over her thoughts. In the time she got to know the two boys, she had tried her best not to get attached to them, but she had and thought of the boy as one of her own little brothers. He was charming in his odd childlike logic, was loyal to a fault, and his positivity was endearing. Even when she betrayed him, she knew he would forgive her and it made her guilty to think of afterwards. The boy was strong and resilient and there was no way he would be afraid. Not of Wirt. Never of Wirt.

“Just trust me and tell him. I guarantee he won’t be afraid. And if he is and things don’t go well, I’ll help you run away or something, okay?” she asked and Wirt blinked in surprise, pulling away from her embrace.

“Wait, what?” he asked, startled, but the iridescent colors were gone now.

“I mean, it would be kind of pathetic to run away from a seven-year-old, but I wouldn’t put it past you. Don’t think you’d make it very far either, but hey, you’re a stubborn jerk who beat a monster, so who knows? Still, running away from a kid is pretty lame. And that kid is also Greg, so I think he’d find you pretty easy too.” She continued on as Wirt started to sputter in indignation. There we go. Rile him up. If the gentle approach wasn’t breaking through to him, she would appeal to his stubborn streak. That and she was out of sentimental words for the week. She swore this kid was making her soft.

“Wh-what? No I wouldn’t! I would just, y’know, never talk to him again. Like, ever.” He stammered and Beatrice rolled her eyes, hand on her hips.

“You really think that’s gonna work with Greg? The human chatterbox and friend machine? Yeah, that’s definitely not gonna work.” She scoffed and Wirt sighed, nodding in agreement and kicking at the snow at his feet. She was right. Scared or not, repulsed or not, there was no stopping Gregory Cowan from opening his mouth and commenting about whatever was on his mind. The only times that Wirt had ever heard the boy silent was when he was either eating or sleeping and even then he still had a propensity to open his mouth and let sound come out.

“You’re right, you’re right… I just…I’m trying to be a good big brother to make up for the terrible one I’ve been for half of my life and all of his life. I just don’t want to scare him and never get the chance to make it up to him…” he said softly and Beatrice nodded.

“And you will. Just tell him the truth. He won’t leave you.” He said firmly and Wirt took a deep breath, feeling himself being firmly settled into the Unknown again, the edges of his vision clearing and he nodded.

“You’re right. I’ll…tell him��. He deserves to know.” He relented and Beatrice nodded in agreement, patting his shoulder.

“Of course I’m right. My ideas are always right.” She said and Wirt rolled his eyes.

“Adelaide was a good idea?” he asked and the girl’s cheeks flushed bright red.

“Ok, but that was once!” she argued and Wirt’s skepticism shot through the metaphorical roof along with his eyebrow.

“Getting turned into a bird, stealing from Endicott, sneaking onto the frog ferry…” he trailed on and the elder girl growled and slapped a hand over his smirking mouth.

“Hush. We don’t talk about those! And don’t chance the subject! We’re talking about you and Greg.” She said sternly, though the blush remained on her face and was now going to the tips of her ears. The mention of the subject at hand was sobering though and the smile soon faded from the boy’s face.

“I need to tell him.” he said quietly, resigned to his fate. Around them, the Unknown swayed with a phantom breeze, the snow blanketing whatever noise there might have been.

*

Wirt felt nauseous and he jittered in place on his bed. He had woken up that day with full determination to tell Greg about him, but that resolve was shaken as soon as he saw the boy at the table for breakfast. He had since shut himself up in his room, pacing nervously and trying not to imagine how much his eyes were glowing. He wanted to tell him. He needed to tell him. but the doubt still lingered in the back of his mind. Luckily, or unluckily for his nerves, his indecisiveness was no match for the curiosity and worry of a seven-year-old. The light knocking on the door was the only warning the teen got before the child burst into his room with all the enthusiasm and eagerness of a puppy.

“Wirt! Wirt! This is urgent business! Jason Funderburker is in need of your affection cuz it’s been so long!” the boy yelled, holding the frog up and waving him in his elder brother’s face.

“Wait-Greg-what?” Wirt stuttered and Greg climbed up on the bed, seating himself next to the other with a look of exasperation on his youthful face.

“We want to spend time in you! You’ve been in here so long, I thought you’d have grown a long white beard! Like Santa! Or a really old guy!” the boy exclaimed and Wirt rolled his eyes, chuckling.

“I haven’t been in here that long. I can’t grow a beard that fast!” he disputed and Greg looked at him skeptically, poking an inquisitive finger at his chin. Wirt pushed his hand away but the boy was persistent, continuing to poke him till Wirt was now actively trying to wrestle him to the bed in order to poke his chin. It sent both of them into a fit of giggles and they heard Jason Funderburker croak along with them. Finally they stopped to catch their breaths, the remnants of laughter leaving them.

“So, can you tell me why you’re not happy now?” Greg suddenly asked and Wirt froze in place but tried his best to force his body to relax and sound nonchalant.

“Wha-what do you mean? I, uh, I’m fine. It’s just the whole snow on the ground thing is all!” he squeaked, failing at looking casual. Greg didn’t look convinced and sat on his chest.

“Are you mad at me again?” he asked quietly and Wirt shot up immediately, practically bowling the boy off him before he snatched him close to hug him.

“What?! Of course not!” he shouted and Greg hugged him back tightly.

“So why are you sad?” the boy asked and Wirt took a breath, steeling what nerves he had and looking the boy dead in the eye.

“I-I’m not sad. Just a little, um…scared? I guess? But it’s nothing to do with you! You didn’t do anything wrong.” Wirt said frantically, the words tumbling out in a rush. Greg, for his part, simply looked confused.

“Greg, I promised I’d protect you no matter what. I don’t want to scare you, but I-I-I think you need to know…”he said quietly and Greg’s eyes seemed to light up in understanding.

“Oh. Is it about how you have the same pretty eyes the Beast had?” he asked innocently end Wirt nodded before freezing.

“Exact-wait, what? You know about that?” Wirt gasped and Greg snorted with laughter.

“Yupp! I saw your eyes when I woke you up a while ago, but you didn’t know yet. I’m glad you do now. Why do you have them? Do I have them? Are my eyes beautiful too?” the boy asked curiously, mind now wandering off in his own world and hugging his frog in contemplation. Wirt felt whatever tension and anxiety he had wash out of him, leaving him limp and almost collapsing back onto his bed. For lack of a better word, he was stunned. Greg knew? He had known for a long time and hadn’t said anything just to make Wirt comfortable.

He really did have the best brother, though he didn’t appreciate the anxiety that came from all of this.

“Why didn’t you tell me before? Weren’t you scared?” Wirt asked in a breathless rush, hugging his brother tightly. Greg looked up at him and shrugged, though he had a serious look on his face.

“I didn’t want to scare you. You were already not sleeping, so I didn’t want to make it worse.” the boy said simply and Wirt could only blink in shock.

“You…you weren’t scared? Of, y’know, what I am? Of my eyes?” the teen asked softly and Greg’s eyebrows scrunched a little in confusion and contemplation.

“Why would I be? I think you were more scared than I was.” Greg said innocently and once again, Wirt hugged the younger boy close, giving him a comforting squeeze.

“Thank you…” he whispered and Greg hugged back tightly, enjoying the affection and patting his brother’s back.

“No need to thank me, brother o’ mine!” he said cheerfully, but there was also relief running through his tiny body. He knew that the Beast was gone, the faint memories of his semi-conscious state echoing with the dying screams of the monster as its soul was snuffed out reminding him every time he dared remember it, but he wouldn’t deny that the glowing eyes of his brother had worried him. Now he knew that he shouldn’t have worried. Beast or not, weird tree powers or not, this was still his older, worried brother and nothing would change that.

“So does that mean you can be a tree now? Can you turn other people into trees? You really shouldn’t do that cuz it’s not nice.” Greg asked, continuing on with his musings as Wirt could only listen and laugh, the relief leaving him lose and willing to muse with him about his newfound powers.

*

The next two years until the next big change in the brothers’ lives was a series of highs and lows filled with making better friends, two different comings out and the parties that came afterwards, meeting witches, learning magic, and turning said friends into a makeshift witch coven. Turning fifteen was stressful in many ways and Wirt felt like he was on the verge of a breakdown from the secrets he was carrying and finally gave in when his friends finally confronted him. Luckily, both of his “coming out” gatherings went well. Sara and the rest of their friends took to him being a weird death tree being rather quickly, asking him questions and sympathizing about his and Greg’s trip to the Unknown. Telling them was also incredibly helpful in keeping his secret while in school since his anxiety tended to make his eyes flicker iridescent. Compared to that particularly nerve wracking reveal, Wirt’s sexuality seemed like nothing. By that, he meant that he still almost passed out from nerves and was only calmed down when his friends and Greg all surrounded him in a group hug.

Both brothers grew closer through all of that, learning Wirt’s new powers together with the younger boy delighting in each ability he showed. Their practice was done at the cemetery with the now dubbed “witch’s circle” among the graves of people they knew in the Unknown, the eyes of the dead watching Wirt’s progress with approval as he changed into something more, better, than the Beast his predecessor was. But that was a story for another time. In his sixteenth year, Wirt would start a new journey and it started with a few casual words spoken by his mother in the early morning over a bowl of cereal.

“Jonathan and I will be going on a honeymoon soon.” His mother announced and Wirt could only stare at her back in a sleepy haze, wondering if he heard right. “Ohhh! What’s what? Are you gonna dip the moon in honey? Is that why it goes yellow sometimes?” A now nine-year-old Greg asked excitedly from next to the elder boy, syrup from his pancakes sticking to his cheeks.

“No, Greg. It’s what married people do after they get married to, uh, spend time together.” Wirt answered quickly, refraining from telling most of the truth and hoping his explanation didn’t come out as awkward as he thought it was. Luckily, his brother seemed to gloss over that fact.

“Oh. But haven’t you been married for a while? Why now? And when? Can we go too?” the boy continued with his slew of questions. Their mother chuckled and ruffled his hair.

“Well, he and I have been planning it for a while but haven’t really found a good time to do it since the marriage and Greg’s birth was so close together.” She explained and turned back to the stove. “And no, honey. Like Wirt said, it’s for married people only. And we’ll be doing it over the summer!” She announced cheerfully, though Greg pouted in displeasure at not being able to go anywhere.

“Oh, well, um, good for you guys, I guess? So, does that mean that we’ll be, um, alone for a while in the summer?” Wirt asked and felt nervous when his mother sighed and turned to him, taking on the same nervous look he usually had. “Well, see, that’s what I wanted to talk to you both about.” She said hesitantly and that immediately knocked all tiredness from his body and he sat up straighter.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, at first we were planning on making it a small trip for a week, but then we got so excited at the thought and since you two were getting along so much better recently, we figured that it would be fine to leave you two longer than that.” She rambled, smiling sheepishly as she explained in a rush. “Not without a guardian, of course! Jonathan has an uncle up in Oregon that we are sending you to and it might be an adventure for you boys too! Along with it being a good opportunity to get to know more family!” she finished and now both boys were stunned, though Greg recovered quicker, his trademark enthusiasm taking hold.

“Ohh! Really?! That’s amazing! We get to go up to Oregon for the summer? We get to meet another uncle! Maybe he’ll be an uncle like Uncle Endicott, Wirt! Do you think he has a big mansion too? Can I bring Jason Funberburker with us?” Greg burbled out excitedly.

“Wait, wait, wait. What? An uncle? Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, not that it’s a bad thing to meet relatives, or that you aren’t entitled to having some time for yourselves, because that’s good in theory, but we haven’t even met the man. I can take care of Greg here while you’re gone, so you don’t need to send us all the way to Oregon!” Wirt rambled right back to his mother, his anxieties flooding his thoughts. What if the man didn’t like him? What if he didn’t like Greg? Wirt didn’t think that would happen since everyone liked Greg, but it was still a fear. What if he didn’t like them bringing a frog with them? And what about his friends and his lack of summer plans he wanted to make with them? And what about the poetry he would have to hide from him? And his abilities! How would he manage to hide that when they were as blaringly obvious? He hid his face in his hands to cover his eyes as the stress seemed to work through his chest.

“Oh, sweetie! It’ll be alright!” his mother quickly rushed over and hugged him and he sank into her embrace gratefully, feeling the comfort beat back his fear.

“I know you aren’t comfortable with new places, but Oregon is a beautiful place! It has plenty of forests that you boys are fond of and would definitely appeal to your poetic soul, honey! And from what Jonathan has told me, his uncle is a little eccentric, but very nice, so there’s no need to worry!” she said reassuringly and pet his hair. Wirt felt himself relaxing with the attention and huffed a little when Greg joined in on the comfort.

“It’s just…are you sure we can’t just stay here? I’m sixteen. I can take care of Greg by myself. Don’t you trust me?” He said quietly as he looked up at his mother and she sighed and shook her head, dropping a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Wirt. I know you’re a responsible young man, but I can’t just leave you alone for the whole summer unsupervised. Neither Jonathan or I have any relatives here and we’d both feel better if there was someone to look after you both.” She said softly, petting his hair. Wirt sighed and felt the trembling from her hand. He inherited his nervous nature from someone and it as only now that he was calming down that he realized his mother was just as freaked out about this as he was. Feeling his panic ebb, his shoulders slumped and he nodded slowly, looking down. He couldn’t deny her this. Not when she was so excited and he knew that if he really pushed this she would stay with them instead of going on her trip with his step-dad so they wouldn’t be left alone.

“…so it’s an uncle of Jonathan’s?” he asked quietly as he looked up again and he could feel her mother relax at his acceptance.

“Yupp! So, he would technically be your and Greg’s great uncle!” she said brightly, giving his shoulder squeeze and sending a grateful smile his way. He smiled back slightly in acknowledgement and returned to his now soggy cereal. “Really? So how is he a great uncle? Is that just the next step from a good uncle?” Greg asked curiously and made Wirt roll his eyes before patting his head.

“That’s not what mom means, Greg.” He explained and Greg looked at him skeptically.

“Are you sure? Just normal uncles are pretty good, so I can only expect that the uncles of our parents are great since they’re older.” He explained in the only way that an elementary school child could. With that, breakfast was concluded and more details of the plan were divulged and come the end of August, their bags were packed and it was a plane and a bus to their new destination. It was certainly an adventure to get their all on its own with Wirt keeping track of their traveling schedules, trying his best to keep a hyperactive Greg entertained until he finally crashed from the jetlag, checking a frog through the airport and bus terminals, and subsequently keeping his brother away from said frog while on the plane. On the bus, Wirt held his brother close while he slept, holding his frog like a stuffed animal, and looked at the ever-changing terrain through the window. The trees multiplied as time went on, growing thicker and thicker as they got closer, and he let his mind wander to something more poetic. The trees were different that those of the Unknown, but they seemed to give off a similar feeling of mystery, like they contained secrets that they dare not divulge for fear of retribution. Or perhaps they kept the secrets from those that were unworthy of learning them? Either way, he could feel this soul in the lantern flutter in excitement at the prospect of exploring this new forest and finding new inspiration. His mother was right, it truly was a beautiful place.

“Mmmm….Wirt?” came the sleepy voice beside him and Wirt turned to see his brother eyes flutter open and a yawn escape his lips.

“Right here, Greg.” He assured the younger boy and Greg relaxed from his slight tension.

“Are we there yet?” he asked and Wirt shook his head.

“No. Not yet. But I think we’re almost there. Look at how many trees there are.” He said and Greg brightened immediately, climbing over his brother’s lap to get a better look outside.

“Wow! There’re more trees here than back home! It’s like the Unknown! But the trees are different!” he said excitedly. In the recent years he had become fixated on learning the different types of trees and Wirt didn’t doubt that he could name every single tree in this forest.

“Oh yeah? Well, we’ll go exploring for a bit after we settle in, okay?” he assured Greg and the younger boy smiled brightly, squeezing his frog to him.

“You hear that, Jason Funderburker? We get to go on forest adventures with Wirt again!” he said excitedly and practically vibrated in place from excitement as soon as they saw the big sign passing them by, announcing their destination. Wirt huffed a laugh and gathered their things as the bus slowed, rumbling to a stop at what seemed like just the side of the road where a single car was parked.

“Oh. I guess that must be him. U-unless there’s someone else waiting for someone else here. I mean, that would probably make sense since we’re not the only ones on the bus that are probably headed here but maybe it is and-“

“Wirt, look! It’s our Uncle!” Greg cut his older brother off gleefully and dashed down the aisle to exit the bus.

“Wait, Greg!” Wirt yelled, scooping up their backpacks before dashing after the excitable child. The other riders looked at him in sympathy and let him pass which Wirt felt grateful for and he stumbled out of the bus as Greg waved excitedly with his frog.

“Hi, Uncle! It’s nice to meet you! I’m Greg and this is Wirt and this is Jason Funderburker! We’re here for the summer!” Greg announced happily to the two figures leaving the car.

“Greg! Don’t just go running off!” Wirt scolded before straightening himself out and settling his eyes on the thinner of the two older men. He recognized him vaguely from the picture Jonathan showed them before they left, though he was definitely more aged than the picture and there was something in his eyes that Wirt was a bit wary about.

“Hello, Sir. Thank you for having us here.” Wirt said politely and the other elder man scoffed a little. The boy’s Uncle gave a pleasant chuckle and waved his hand dismissively.

“Aww shucks, there’s no need fer any “sir” nonsense! The name’s McGucket. Fiddleford McGucket or just Uncle Fiddleford to you. Welcome to Gravity Falls, kids!”

*

AO3 handle: AbsolutelyNoChill_OnlyDeath

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m Always Curious Part Eight

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: Not beta-read. I hope everyone is well :) Thank you to everyone that’s read/liked/reblogged/replied! I really appreciate it! Summary: My walk to the shuttle and the ride back to the ship were wholly uneventful. If only things had stayed that way when I reached the ship. 

My fingers barely stopped tapping on the keyboard as the headphones were lifted off of my head. I paused the recording I’d been transcribing before I glanced over, doing a double-take at the sight of Una holding my headphones between her thumb and forefinger. “Hey,” I greeted, looking at the screen, “Give me...Two seconds...” I said, typing the phrase that I’d heard before she’d pulled my headphones off. I saved the file before I minimized the screen, turning in my chair to look at her. “What’s up?” I asked, watching her lean back against my desk. “I feel like I haven’t seen you since we docked,” She said, fingers absently smoothing over the controls on the headphones. “I’ve been keeping busy,” I excused. She quirked a brow. “So I’ve heard. You took Onafuwa‘s one-day intensive,” She said, raising her brow. I shrugged. "You and Spock both hold him in high esteem, and I never had occasion to take his courses while I was at the Academy. Figured it couldn’t hurt to see what you two were raving about. Well, as much as you and Spock ‘rave’.”

The left side of Una’s mouth lifted with amusement. "What is it you’re up to now, then?” She asked, glancing toward the screen. “Transcription speed exercises. Never hurts to brush up-- And I’ve got a lecture on Tamarian allegory in half an hour, so, helps keep my fingers warm.” “When the Captain told us to make the most of this week’s leave, I’m not sure that this is what he meant,” Una contemplated. I tipped my head to the side, briefly taken aback. “Are you disapproving of my studious plans? Is something wrong? Blink twice if we’re under attack.” Una rolled her eyes with such pronouncement that she rolled her head with it as well. “I simply mean that you ought to give yourself a little time to relax at some point.” “Well, this may be controversial, but I find Tamarian allegory incredibly relaxing.” Una looked wholly unconvinced as she set my headphones on the desk beside my keyboard. “I trust you don’t have any lectures scheduled for around seven tomorrow evening?” “Not as far as I know. Why?” “A few of us are going to Liquara. You’ve more than earned a drink, lieutenant,” Una straightened from the desk, flicking my forehead before leaving. I watched her go, rubbing at the spot on my forehead. I’d never gotten around to asking Una why she’d given me that look after Sandblossom, and she’d never raised any concerns with me. I’d assumed my studios pursuits would be entirely Una-approved, but apparently I’d judged that wrong, too. -- I hadn’t stayed in the long-range sensor lab so late since well before I’d completed my dissertation. After the lecture on Tamarian allegory, I’d grabbed a quick bite to eat before heading to the lab and settling in. I’d only planned on being there for a couple of hours, but I just kept putting off leaving, increasingly telling myself that I’d only be five more minutes. Unfortunately, before I knew it, I’d managed to ‘five more minutes’ myself right to two in the morning. I grumbled as I packed my things up. I’d only just gotten myself on a fairly regular Earth-time sleep schedule; this was my own fault, I knew that. My walk to the shuttle and the ride back to the ship were wholly uneventful. If only things had stayed that way when I reached the ship. It was late. Sure, some people were still up and about, maintaining schedules so that a readjust to late shifts wouldn’t screw them the following week, but the halls, for the most part, were quiet. That’s why his voice stuck out like a sore thumb. He wasn’t even speaking loudly -- but then, he didn’t have to. His voice just had a timbre that the ear naturally caught and held to. He was making an effort to be quiet, but whoever he was with wasn’t quite taking the same pains. I heard an unfamiliar giggle, followed by a sigh of, “Oh, Chris--”, and then his gentle hushing. I felt...Odd. Weirdly gross. Like I needed to play Klingon poetry in my ears at top volume for a few hours to get rid of the sound. Just this once, I didn’t let my curiosity get the better of me. I turned around quickly and went in the opposite direction. I took the longest, most convoluted route to my quarters out of fear of running into him and whoever it was. When I did finally reach my quarters, I was exhausted. This was for a combination of reasons. The first, of course, was the fact that I was coming off of a day of two lectures and nearly six hours in the long-range sensor lab. The second was that I had just spent half an hour skulking around the ship to avoid running into the Captain and...Someone. Thira was sound asleep already, which was optimal; she knew me well now, and I was too tired to hide my moderate distress. It was moments like these where I had to take a deep breath, step back, and put my ‘Spock’ cap on. There was a better way to see this situation. I had no logical reason to be upset. While my initial... Interest in the Captain may’ve grown into a much stronger feeling toward him with increased time spent in his presence, I had always been fully cognizant of the fact that the likelihood of anything happening between us was insanely low. This was for several reasons. For one, Pike was my Commanding Officer. While it wasn’t entirely unheard of for officers to become...Involved with their superiors, it wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up. I thought of Thira and her husband. They’d been deliberately placed on separate starships despite the fact that they’d both applied to the Enterprise. Unless you were a computer, or a Vulcan, emotion tended to hold at least some sway over certain areas where objectivity was needed from a Captain. Another reason was, despite the fact that I might have liked to think otherwise, the Captain had never explicitly stated any interest in me. There were moments with Pike that, seen one way, I could misconstrue as romantic. But seen another, they were purely friendly. Our time in Sandblossom, for example -- if I had been there with Spock, he might’ve suggested body heat for the mutual benefit of the well-being of crew members. If I’d strayed too far from Una, she might’ve reached out to keep me close. I had good intentions when we got back to our time. That was why I had signed up for so many courses and trainings for that week. My mind had less time to wander in other directions-- especially in Pike’s. This was for the best, I told myself as I tucked myself into bed. It was for the best that I had heard what I had heard, and not let my curiosity get the better of me. My stomach felt like someone had filled me with pop rocks and hot coffee and given me a shake. This was for the best. It was for the best that I knew my place on the ship, and didn’t have any silly notions about what the Captain might think about me. I couldn’t get that stupid giggle out of my ears. This was for the best. Where could I even find recordings of Klingon poetry?

[dwellordream]

“The most important thing to understand about most polytheistic belief systems is that they are fundamentally practical. They are not about moral belief, but about practical knowledge. Let’s start with an analogy:

Let’s say you are the leader of a small country, surrounded by a bunch – let’s say five – large neighbor countries, which never, ever change. Each of these big neighbors has their own culture and customs. Do you decide which one is morally best and side with that one? That might be nice for your new ally, but it will be bad for you – isolated and opposed by your other larger neighbors. Picking a side might work if you were a big country, but you’re not; getting in the middle is likely to get you crushed.

No. You will need to maintain the friendship of all of the countries at once (the somewhat amusing term for this in actual foreign policy is ‘Finlandization‘ – the art of bowing to the east without mooning the west, in Kari Suomalainen’s words). And that means mastering their customs. When you go to County B, you will speak their language, you wear their customary dress, and if they expect visiting dignitaries to bow five times and then do a dance, well then you bow five times and do a dance. And if Country C expects you to give a speech instead, then you arrive with the speech, drafted and printed. You do these things because these countries are powerful and will destroy you if you do not humor whatever their strange customs happen to be.

...Ah, but how will you know what kind of speech to write or what dance to do? Well, your country will learn by experience. You’ll have folks in your state department who were around the last time you visited County B, who can tell you what worked, and what didn’t. And if something works reliably, you should recreate that approach, exactly and without changing anything at all. Sure, there might be another method that works – maybe you dance a jig, but the small country on the other side of them dances the salsa, but why take the risk, why rock the boat? Stick with the proven method.

But whatever it is that these countries want, you need to do it. No matter how strange, how uncomfortable, how inconvenient, because they have the ability to absolutely ruin everything for you. So these displays of friendship or obedience – these rituals – must take place and they must be taken seriously and you must do them for all of these neighbors, without neglecting any (yes even that one you don’t like).

This is how these religions work. Not based on moral belief, but on practical knowledge (I should point out, this is not my novel formulation, but rather is rephrasing the central idea of Clifford Ando’s The Matter of the Gods (2008), but it is also everywhere in the ancient sources if you read them and know to look). Let’s break that down, starting with the concept of…

Knowledge. For the Roman (or most any ancient polytheist) there is never much question of if the gods exist. True atheism was extremely rare in the pre-modern world – the closest ancient philosophy gets to is Epicureanism, which posits that the gods absolutely do exist, but they simply do not care about you (the fancy theological term here is immanence (the state of being manifest in the material world). Epicureans believed the gods existed, but were not immanent, that they did not care about and were little involved with the daily functioning of the world we inhabit). But the existence of the gods was self-evident in the natural phenomena of the world. Belief was never at issue.

...This, of course, loops back to one of my favorite points about history: it is generally safe to assume that people in the past believed their own religion. Which is to say that polytheists genuinely believe there are many gods and that those gods have power over their lives, and act accordingly.

In many ways, polytheistic religions, both ancient and modern (by modern polytheisms, I mean long-standing traditional religious structures like Hinduism and Shinto, rather than various ‘New Age’ or ‘Neo-pagan’ systems, which often do not follow these principles), fall out quite logically from this conclusion. If the world is full of gods who possess great power, then it is necessary to be on their good side – quite regardless of it they are morally good, have appropriate life philosophies, or anything else. After all, such powerful beings can do you or your community great good or great harm, so it is necessary to be in their good graces or at the very least to not anger them.

Consequently, it does not matter if you do not particularly like one god or other. The Greeks quite clearly did not like Ares (the Romans were much more comfortable with Mars), but that doesn’t mean he stopped being powerful and thus needing to be appeased.

So if these polytheistic religions are about knowledge, then what do you need to know? There are two big things: first you need to know what gods exist who pertain to you, and second you need to know what those gods want.

Two things I want to pull out here. First: the exact nature and qualities of the gods do not really matter, because remember, the goal is practical results. Crops need to grow, ships need to sail, rain needs to fall and the precise length of Zeus’ beard is profoundly unimportant to those objectives, but getting Zeus to bring storms at the right times is indispensable. The nature of the gods largely does not matter – what matters is what you need to do to keep them happy.

Second, you may be saying – you keep ramming home the idea that you have to cultivate all of the gods – what is this ‘pertaining to you’ business? What I mean by this is that while the polytheist typically accepts the existence of vast numbers of gods (often vast beyond counting), typically only a subset of those gods might be immediately relevant. Some gods are tied to specific places, or specific families, or jobs, or problems – if you don’t live in that place, belong to that family, hold that job, etc., then you don’t need to develop a relationship with that god.

...Now, normally when you ask what the ancients knew of the gods and how they knew it, the immediate thought – quite intuitively – is to go read Greek and Roman philosophers discussing on the nature of man, the gods, the soul and so on. This is a mistake. Many of our religions work that way: they begin with a doctrine, a theory of how the divine works, and then construct ritual and practice with that doctrine as a foundation.

This is exactly backwards for how the ancients, practicing their practical knowledge, learn about the gods. The myths, philosophical discussions and well-written treatises are not the foundation of the religion’s understanding of the gods, but rather the foaming crest at the top of the wave. In practice, the ruminations of those philosophers often had little to do the religion of the populace at large; famously Socrates’ own philosophical take on the gods rather upset quite a lot of Athenians.

Instead of beginning with a theory of the divine and working forwards from that, the ancients begin with proven methods and work backwards from that. For most people, there’s no need to know why things work, only that they work. Essentially, this knowledge is generated by trial and error.

...I have found that students often find that this form of learning sounds very silly to them, at least at first glance. But we actually discover only a very few things theory-first, from first principles. Instead, we learn most of what we know this way. This is how you learned to farm, to cook, to work metal, to make crafts. This is how we learn most things in our daily lives – if not by trial and error directly by ourselves, then by benefiting from a chain of knowledge that eventually ends in someone else’s trial and error.

Crucially, for individuals living in a traditional, pre-modern society, this process of hard-won trial-and-error knowledge passed down through generations is how most of them know everything: how to do their jobs, live their lives, act on a daily basis, how the world works, all of it.”

- Bret Devereaux, “Practical Polytheism, Part I: Knowledge.”

[hopevalley]

Don't see how Mike will have time to run the petroleum company AND be Mayor, so hoping that job goes to Lee. Apparently Lee isn't kept very busy running his own business, so let's toss him this bone. Being mayor probably isn't a full time gig anyway. As for he & Rosemary having kids...why does everyone think their life can't be complete until they have some? I think it's a very realistic to feature a childless couple getting over that disappointment & having full & happy lives anyway.

I’m sure the job will go to Lee, or they’ll do a huuuge dramatic plotline about it where there are cutthroat politics afoot. Personally I think it’d be a little insensitive to do that type of storyline right now, but 99% of this town would suck at being mayor.

If Bill wins: he’s the objectively BEST choice because he knows the most and is the most fair/likely to do the right thing always, BUT he’s also a judge so that seems like...a conflict of interest. If he quits being a judge it could work really well, though.

If Lee wins: he’s maybe a little too passive for mayor and would think too long and people would get annoyed with that. He is really level-headed, though, so he won’t be impulsive, but I hate the suggestion that his job doesn’t keep him busy enough. In most previous seasons Rosemary worked because Lee worked so much and she was lonely, so it feels stupid to throw that away now. He’s always been a workaholic...let him stay one.

If Fiona wins: she doesn’t feel like a part of the town enough to me to logically get elected, but it sure as HELL would reek of Hallmark pretending to be feminist just like they did when they randomly decided Abigail was head of the town council and thus Henry’s replacement in S4. No thanks... At least she’d be bossy about it, though.

If Mike wins: he’s a good guy and likely to listen to people but I don’t think he has the backbone that’s necessary, and he sure as heck doesn’t have half the knowledge he needs. He’d mean well, but meh.

I wish Dottie had stayed on because she would have made the BEST mayor: a big part of the town, she’d know everything about it from being married to a mayor (and having worked with Henry when he was one), she’s smart, she’s got good sense, and she’s decisive without being hateful. She’s always been written that way. She always made more sense than Abigail.

(I’m not saying there aren’t other choices, of course. Joseph would be so good at it with the right knowledge but he’s not integrated enough into the town yet. Neither is Minnie. I hate the idea of Jesse and Clara getting more screentime at this point. And on and on.)

Anyway, after this awful triangle, the LAST thing I want to watch are characters I like tearing each other down (or lying) to try and win. I can see the plotline already... Bill, Lee, and Fiona all at each other’s throats and either Mike wins by default because he’s too sweet to lie or be mean to anyone, or Fiona wins because Mike accidentally talks her up so much. I mean it’d be in character but I’d rather not see Lee and Bill look like jackasses for a whole season, thanks.

--

I absolutely HATE the fan desire to have Lee and Rosemary reproduce. I’m not a big fan of children to begin with, but the whole infertility plot needs to mean something. If they just magically get pregnant ~wow what a miracle~ I would never watch this show again. Just like the whole Becky plotline (where she magically didn’t need the wheelchair wowzer it’s just mind over matter haha!) it’s just cruel to dangle that in front of the faces of people who have experienced that kind of heartache. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’d LOVE an adoption plotline, preferably of a young teenager (or several kids). They did that in Avonlea and it was incredible. Imagine Rosemary latching onto like, three orphaned siblings. It’d be so sweet. 

Like, if children would make Rosemary and Lee feel fulfilled in life (and that IS the case for some people out there!) then they can adopt. Yes, it sucks that they can’t just have their own kids, but this is a time period where it was cheap and easy to adopt children, so there’s no real reason not to do it. They even know the right people to help them find the perfect kid match(es) for their personality and lifestyle!

(By this I mean, they had their infertility plotline, and now they’ve had a break from that to think about their future and themselves and with no baby in sight maybe it’s time to consider adoption as a valid way of getting what they desire. My favorite part of this is that it feels SO SO SO in character for both of them to be on board adopting because they could adopt kids who were a little older, better at communicating, not so messy and disruptive in their day to day life, and...they get to CHOOSE...so that kid (or those kids) would always know that Lee and Rosemary CHOSE THEM.)

I get emotional thinking about an adoption storyline. I just think with the option right there, and with it feeling like it would work SO well for the characters, it’d be silly to go the baby route with them. And I’m tired of the fans who want another pregnancy. Clara can get pregnant if they want that. It makes sense, it could kickstart an adoption plotline for Lee and Rosemary, and then everyone is happy.

Of course they could be childfree forever, and happy that way! But only if they’ve come to terms with the infertility thing and how it feels to have that choice taken away from them. Maybe they could conclude that it doesn’t really work very well with their chosen lifestyle anyway, and it’s for the best that it didn’t happen for them, but still feel upset that it wasn’t an active choice they were able to make. I just seriously do not trust the showrunners/writers to handle this in a sensitive way.

I’d prefer adoption if the plotline was going to be carried forward, though of course they could do that poorly, too.

[musingsofaperpetualdaydreamer]

THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR.

You don’t have to agree with what I’m about to say, you’re allowed to have your own feelings and opinion, this is just my post reflection re-examined take not just as a black fan but as human in general but I hope it gives you a new perspective. I’ve been thinking about this whole situation and wanting to see if there’s something I’m missing because something feels badly wrong and I just can’t shake it. 

I think what genuinely started off as respectful constructive criticism has now become people nitpicking on a whole new level and some people just being flat out hateful. I’m talking DEMONIC level vile and twisting things to fit some messed up agenda they have. To be honest some non black or poc fans seem more upset about this situation than black fans themselves. I feel like this whole thing has now gotten out of hand and taken a lot of focus off the movement that could honestly be a lot better spent.

The class of 2020 video I felt was her just trying to be light hearted and connect with people who yes, many are going through a difficult time, but their graduation was supposed to be a really happy day. She was bullied a lot in school, so graduation must’ve been something she held on to during dark times and looked forward to to give her hope. Then she never got to fulfil the ending she imagined but she celebrated in her own way with her mum who was her rock the whole time in a not so glamorous setting but she was happy. So I think she just wanted to make them feel better and focus on the positives. Which I thought was nice of her. Taylor’s going through her own difficulties also. I didn’t see it as her trying to trivialise what other people may be going through at all. What did you want her to do? I’m pretty sure if she took a focus on the serious issues approach you’d say she’s being too negative or it wouldn’t be right in some other way.

As for the BLM situation, I too wished she’d do more and felt she had so much potential to still do better. I wrote a whole rambly post explaining my feelings. Here’s my original post for reference: https://musingsofaperpetualdaydreamer.tumblr.com/post/620145959803961344/maybe-i-am-stupid-for-feeling-this-hurt-and-its

After taking some time to think about it, I’ve come to some realisations that have given me a new perspective. Do I think that Taylor could still do better? Yes she has lots of potential to improve. But what is better? Who gets to decide what level of better is enough? What I’ve come to realise is though I think a lot of people are genuinely coming from a place of love, we’re holding Taylor to an unfair standard. Before you get all outraged just hear me out.

Like I said in my original post I think most of us feel this is odd and confusing for the same reasons. In any case, I think our special bond with her is the major part of why we’re holding her to this high standard. The fan/celebrity dynamic can be incredibly toxic for both parties. She’s grateful for her fans and goes above and beyond the norm to really make us all feel special and loved, like we’re friends almost. But the truth is, fan love can be very toxic and in reality she’ll never be able to love us back the way we love her or want her to. Not because she doesn’t care enough to but the very nature of our relationship makes it impossible to do so because this relationship is an unnatural one.

Essentially she is one human who is and or does something we like (ie. make music), that we often also attach our own super meaningful significances and emotion to. So it’s more than just what they are/do it’s also what that means to us. We are over a million individual STRANGERS who obsess and sort of stalk her in a socially acceptable way (for the most part) and we love her and believe we’re special to her because she approves and acknowledges and interacts with us as a collective group through posts online and during in person events. But because we also feel that we love her in our own unique way as individuals distinct from the group and have our own ‘love story’ with her, we believe we all have a unique special bond with her. Logically we know we are just a stranger but emotionally I guess deep down we crave that love being reciprocated as an individual. We don’t just want to be loved as a collective, we want to be special to her, we want to let her know how much we love her and have her listen to our thoughts/feelings and essentially feel like her friend and for us to tell us personally she loves and appreciates us back or to praise or validate our displays of love in some way.

Without meaning to we can often put her on a pedestal. She is our perfect idol, queen of whatever safe haven we’ve created in ‘her magical world’ we escape to. We love and defend her. In some cases it almost becomes like borderline worship. We would do anything for her or anything to feel close to her no matter how humiliating or whatever the cost, because it’s for her she is our everything and no one could understand your love, they just don’t get it. Who cares if you look crazy, love is crazy right? We obsessively learn facts about her as a way to feel closer. Or save up for ages just to buy objects she sells or pay to be in her presence for an hour or two. Those who get to meet her report back to the group details which would be viewed as incredibly creepy outside the context of fan/celebrity, like what does she smell like, how long you remember her holding your hand for in seconds, the instant you saw her you fell on the floor overcome with emotion and ugly cried, despite this being your first time ever meeting her, so you are again likely a literal stranger to her, you profess your love and proceed to tell her your deepest darkest and most intimate thoughts, feelings, life traumas and secrets and want her to be completely chill and loving and instantly say something beautiful and profound in response to treasure forever. The group fawn over you when you return, you become a chosen one, the chosen elite are specially selected and invited to her home (the HIGHEST honour) where she shares her work with you before anyone, you then have a secret to keep because she trusts you and loves you.

Human beings cannot form deep intimate friendships with over a million people. It’s just not possible. She will never be our friend friend, but the closest thing we have is her momentarily acknowledging our existence. We know this and so it becomes a competition for her attention. This kind of one sided love and weird relationship dynamic, allows us to more easily tap into the darker sometimes more destructive sides of love; obsession, jealousy, rage, neediness, possessiveness. I’m not saying this to make fun of anyone (trust me, I have humiliated myself in ways as fangirl especially as a teen that continue to haunt me to this day), I just wanted to give you a very literal description of our relationship with her so you’ll understand my point that our relationship is unnatural.

We would say we love Taylor like a friend, but when you’re a fan you don’t really. Not because you don’t know enough about her or she doesn’t talk to you enough but for the very nature of what I explained above, she may mean something to us but to her we are literally strangers. Besides, imagine a good friend of yours right now, imagine doing everything you do for Taylor for your friend. Put pictures of them all over your bedroom wall, frame a tissue they touched, make web pages dedicated to them, wearing clothing with their face on it. Yeah, there’s a high chance they’d get a restraining order against you.

From Taylor’s perspective it must be incredibly strange. She’s said she often feels like she’s in a fish bowl. Well what we essentially do is all smoosh our faces against the glass and repeatedly tap it to get the attention of the pretty fish (Taylor). Every time it comes out of the little castle in the bowl, the frenzy begins. Could you imagine what it must feel like to be her? All that attention? All those people pinning all their expectations hopes and dreams on you. Thousands of people making you their sanctuary and safety comforter so if you did something to loose them their worlds would come crashing down. That’s an insane amount of pressure. It must be genuinely terrifying. 

Taylor said she struggles with wanting to keep everybody happy and giving too much of herself to do so, she’s a perfectionist and hates letting people down or she beats herself up about it. I know she loves what she does, but at the same time it must be so exhausting and really drain you. She must read lots of really happy & silly posts, but then some might be people sharing really emotional things about a very difficult and dark time they’re going through, though we mean well when we share it, it must be really hard knowing that you can’t help them. I don’t even want to imagine the vile hate that she reads, because imagine how one hate comment makes us feel but she gets hundreds and sometimes it’s on magazines at the store so it follows her everywhere. She can’t even go outside to do regular human things without the risk of getting mobbed or just knowing everyone’s staring at her and watching her every move. Look how we all hate being trapped at home because everywhere we go outside is dangerous due to COVID-19. It’s a huge amount to take in and process emotionally.

Sometimes I think she research’s people before she meets them, not just because she cares, but for her own sanity and to make it less strange. So the interaction can be more normal. She seems to really like reading people just talking about their ordinary life, day to day things because her life is far from normal. But she meets us like a conveyer belt, people that she makes a connection with and then they get taken away and she’ll never get to meet them again. When she wants to see someone again, people get upset because why aren’t they getting a chance to get picked or that person had already met her, but they don’t think about how Taylor feels because maybe she likes that person and wants to talk to them again. We think her life is incredibly privileged and yes she’s incredibly smart and knows how to handle her career but in reality in a lot of ways it must be so maddening, sad and lonely because human beings were not designed to live this way. “And they tell you that you’re lucky but you’re so confused, ‘cause you don’t feel pretty you just feel used.”

It’s okay to be a fan of someone or look up to them or connect and find meaning with them and their work. As long as it’s done in a healthy way. We need to really work on that or we’re really going to hurt her more than we have. For Taylor to live the life she does, you have to develop really thick skin or turn to things to just numb everything, I see how celebrities end up with addiction problems or suddenly acting out because they can’t cope anymore. You have to learn to shut it out to survive. We made her our comfort blanket that we’d find it hard to live without. So we want her to behave in a way that we approve, not just because we want her to be her best self but also because we struggle to think how we’d cope without her. But we have to remember she’s human just like us. She’s going to make mistakes, not always be her best self, have bad days. Just because she might have more money or more people that know her doesn’t make her magically stop being human. She goes through life like everyone else. It’s healthy to give her constructive criticism but we have to watch the tone in which we say things. I’m not saying we baby her but we have to remember unnatural dynamic we have. It’s not just a few posts, it ends up being thunderously loud because it’s thousands or more than a million people saying the same thing. Social media makes you forget you’re talking to a human being because you can’t see their face or their reaction to how your words are impacting them. Sometimes you can’t shut it out and to her it must feel like a million people are suddenly very angry or disappointed with you and are going to take their love away. Because I guess in a way she becomes attached to us also. You don’t stop caring no matter what people say, you’re human. Remember how it feels when one person you love is disappointed or angry with you. Now amplify that. Mentally that’s...wow. I feel so so bad for her because I honestly don’t know how she copes and does this so well. This could all really send someone over the edge and we’ve seen it happen. We’ve gotten a tiny glimpse into how badly it can affect her. I’m glad she has an amazing family, Joe and true friends who are there for her but God only how she copes behind closed doors.

This fandom sometimes reaches an ugly level of entitlement because the truth is she has spoiled us. We expect things that we shouldn’t expect because she gives us more attention and puts more effort into making all of us feel special than we deserve. I can’t believe after everything she’s ever done, people would think it was all a lie. Mess up one time and everything you did was fake? People who are fake mess up, especially when things aren’t going their way or to plan and they snap and reveal what they’re really like. She’s been through so many trials time and time again and proven her character. Come on, we know who she is. Like all humans she might not be perfect but she is truly good person and she has a good heart and a pure beautiful soul. She’d have to be an insanely good actress and dedicate a huge amount of time to planning all of these lies. You guys have met her, you’ve seen how good she is at connecting with people instantly. She’s warm and loving and even the cats love her as much as she loves them. For someone who has so much money, she seems to enjoy the simple things in life the most and making everyone happy and she’s so humble. I think a lot of that is also in part to the people around her who keep her grounded. 

Anyhow, that black and white thinking of you are either all good or you’re all bad, is so immature and dangerous, because people are more complicated than that because we’re not simply one thing. Which one of us is a perfect person that has never made a mistake or let people down? Ever made a resolution that you stuck to or you needed more time to work on, or were just unsure how to begin or feel overwhelmed? Exactly. I know a lot of us came from a place of love, we don’t hate her at all we just wanted her to do better. And we’ve come up with all kinds of conspiracies of why she doesn’t want to post more because we feel that this doesn’t match the Taylor that we know in our hearts that she is. 

We need to stop judging and shaming each other. Virtue signalling for the sake of looking woke and outrage culture needs to end because it honestly does more harm than good. I’ve seen it become like dangerous mob behaviour and people get hurt. We all learn at our own pace and handle things in our own way and prefer helping in our own preferred ways. Don’t always assume the worst about people. Like I said, social media isn’t the be all and end of everything. Just because you don’t post about it doesn’t mean you don’t care. You could be doing lots of things offline to help that could be really impactful. Often times these can have huge meaningful long term impact, because we literally don’t live inside the internet. Humans connecting with each other in the real world as nature intended us to be is actually super important. I think a lot of problems could be resolved by people logging off the internet and talking to each other in person; people say things behind a screen that they wouldn’t in real life or may regret because it’s easier to not access empathy and not view the person you’re talking to as human this way. It’s good to take your own time to properly think about things before you just open your mouth. Besides everyone starts somewhere. 

There’s lots of really graphic stuff online at the moment and even I had to take a break. Someone not being black doesn’t mean they don’t need to care for their mental health or don’t get affected. The virus has been really hard on a lot of us in many ways, it can infect anyone and honestly all the panic and doom and uncertainty starts to really get to you after a while and sometime’s you just have to disconnect. Her mother is very vulnerable and Taylor is a human with feelings. You have to fill up your own cup before you can pour into other people’s. We need to be kinder to each other, you never know what someone is going through or what their circumstances are. It might not always be safe for someone to speak out publicly, it’s often more complicated than we think. We know white supremacist groups have made Taylor a focus before, maybe her recent activity could make her a target and put her in a lot danger. I pray not and that she and everyone she loves is safe. 

We have to remember to try and have empathy for her and not look at her as just Taylor with the huge fan base, but Taylor the human being. We all have our flaws. Her mother is really gravely ill. I know lots of you will be like so? that’s not an excuse. But I think we all need to examine who we’ve allowed ourselves to become because that’s such a gross attitude and we’re not being fair with her. Her mum is her best friend and the most important person who comforts her and is her source of security and stability. She means so much to her, she’s her mum. We too should care about her mum because she’s been such an angel to us as fans and is a pure bright light in this world. Remember soon you’ll get better? That broke my heart. God only knows how Taylor is coping with all of that, the scrutiny of fame, the pandemic and whatever threats she could have received. If you’ve ever had someone you love go through something like this, you know how hard it can be, how helpless you can feel and how your head might not always be in the right space. Every second with them is precious because things genuinely change in an instant and you could suddenly lose them. Imagine your own darkest moment. Maybe given her circumstances that’s the best she can do right now. It’s not our place to judge her. 

Why can’t she get her team to simply post for her? I imagine she’d rather do it and select things herself given the sensitive important nature of this cause (it’s not like merch promo) or else we’d then start to question everything else. She would make headlines for anything she did. It would draw attention to her and could put her family in more danger. Remember how her dad was so afraid for her? Well I don’t think any added stress is what her family needs with her sick mother in the midst of a global pandemic. When does Taylor get a break from everyone and just get a second to look after herself? We can wish but we cannot demand that she come and explain to console us. We are not her responsibility. 

I’ve noticed she’s been different the past few months. She doesn’t look like herself in the pictures she’s posted, she just looks blank and this whole situation has felt very off and I’ve really worried something was wrong. Watching that class 2020 video Idk you might think I’m crazy but it genuinely sounded like she was holding in tears and she looked sad. Like she was somewhere else when she was talking but forcing herself to look happy. Just because she may look like she’s holding it together doesn’t mean she actually is. My heart is broken for her and I pray for her and her loved ones. Go back and watch it yourself. 

We all need to really reflect and deeply think about how our actions can affect others and take a long hard look at the people we have become and ask ourselves if this is who we really want to be, myself included. You can still have your own feelings and opinions on this situation but I really hope this helps you see a new perspective. We have to remember there are multiple injustices and hardships going on all over the world at once. We need to check our pride and our egos and humble ourselves. Be less judgmental and more empathetic. Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. 

Taylor if you’re reading this (I know the chances are teensy), I’m genuinely so sorry. I hope you and your loved ones are safe and well. I love you so so much and I’ll keep you and your family in my prayers 💖

[thepancakeboi]

60. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong, and don’t try lying to me.”

Divergence AU Part III

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Fanfic under cut

11/16

“Hey, you okay?”

I glance up from the drink I’ve been staring at for the past five minutes, meeting Ren’s inquisitive gray eyes. “I’m fine. I was simply listening to the song.”

Ren doesn’t look convinced. “Akeppi-”

“I told you not to call me that in public,” I interrupt in a hushed whisper. Granted, we’re the only patrons currently in the jazz club, but still. I don’t even know why he calls me that. He just randomly said it after our fight in Mementos a couple of weeks ago and has continued to use it since.

“You’ve barely said anything since we left Penguin Sniper. Are you sure you’re fine?”

“I...have nothing to say.”

That’s a lie, of course, and Ren knows it. So much has been on my mind the past month. During our first foray into Sae’s Palace, I had hesitantly told them about the plan to kill Ren. I also told them about my identity as “the man in the black mask”, but only because Makoto and Morgana had figured it out and confronted me about it. I still can’t believe that I’m working with them like this. They...accept me, to some degree. I hadn’t expected them to completely trust me, but they’re all naive enough to not condemn me for what I’ve done. Even Haru and Futaba, the two people who should hate my guts, aren’t hostile to me. They should be, though.

I have so many things I want to say, but...

“Goro?” Ren sounds worried. ��Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” I say, dismissing his concerns with a wave of my hand.

“It isn’t ‘nothing’. You can tell me.”

“It is,” I snap, my friendly facade breaking for a brief moment. It’s become harder than ever to keep the mask on, to hide what lurks beneath the superficial nature I present to the world. “You needn’t concern yourself over the bastard son of a rotten father.”

“Who’s your father?” Ren immediately asks.

“What?”

“What’s your father’s name?”

A strangled laugh escapes my lips. He doesn’t even realize it yet. How would he, though? My father and the man we’re currently after are one and the same. “Why would you care? He’s not important to our current mission.”

“I want you to be happy. Isn’t that enough of a reason?”

“It’s a foolish reason.” I go back to staring intently at my drink as if it’ll give me all the answers I need. It won’t, but at least I won’t have to look Ren in the eye as he tries to get me to open up to him. I don’t need his help.

He hums as he continues to look for a clue to solve his own questions. “That’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”

“Of course not.”

“So there is something wrong.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t say nothing’s wrong.”

He’s right. I should have denied it. With a huff, I chug down the remainder of my drink and stand up, stalking out of the jazz club without a word. This was a waste of time. My thoughts are still there, like a tumultuous storm clouding my judgment. Maybe what I need is a solid blow to the head to knock me out for the next several days. Then I wouldn’t have to...

I stop, turning around. Ren stands a few feet away from me. He must have followed me out. “What are you doing?”

“We weren’t done talking.”

“Well, I am.” Of course, when I go to leave him behind yet again, Ren doesn’t seem to get the hint. I whirl around, nearly about to smack some sense into him as he grabs ahold of my wrist. “What the hell do you want?”

“I want you to tell me what’s the matter.”

He doesn’t even seem fazed by my reaction, a reaction so out of character for detective prince Goro Akechi. He still has that damn concerned look on his face. I try to pull the pieces of that fake personality back together, but my words ring hollow as I respond, “Look, all I need is some time to myself. Just leave me be.”

“That hasn’t been working for you, has it?” No, it hasn’t been. “I told you I’d always be there for you. I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong, and don’t try lying to me.”

“Ren, I’m fi-”

“Do you trust me?”

The question is completely unexpected. “I...I want to.” But I don’t know how...when I barely even trust myself.

“Then let’s go to Leblanc and we can talk this over.”

I shake my head. “That would take too long.”

“It doesn’t have to be Leblanc. Wherever you need to go to feel comfortable talking to me.”

I can only think of one place other than Leblanc, but...would it be weird to...? “Would you be okay with coming with me to my apartment? It’s not too far from here.”

“Sure.” He nods, though why he’s smiling I have no idea. Maybe it’s because I’m confiding in him after all.

We walk to my apartment in comfortable silence. As we weave our way through the streets, Ren slowly slips his hand from my wrist into my hand. I side-eye him curiously. Why is he doing this? It’s not like I’m trying to actively lose him in a crowd. I don’t object to it, though. For some reason, I almost...welcome his hand in mine. Even when we arrive at my apartment and find ourselves sitting side by side on the futon, he’s still holding my hand.

And I...don’t want him to let go?

Damnit, I must be more emotionally compromised than I thought.

I don’t even know when I started giving a shit about Ren. I’ve been spending more and more time with him than I ever had during the summer. He never refuses me. He’s spent all of today with me after school ended for him. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would he ever want to spend any length of time with his future murderer?

That’s the root of my problems, isn’t it? The counterplan the Phantom Thieves have come up with is daring, reckless, and honestly is one huge gamble. I don’t normally doubt myself, but it’s going to take a lot of luck for Ren to get out of this alive...

“Goro?”

The way he says my name, gently prying to find out what’s been occupying my thoughts, nearly breaks my composure.

But I can’t let him know my doubts...my fears.

Yes, I’m afraid. I’m afraid I’m going to shoot him in the head, for real. That Ren Amamiya, the second year at Shujin who so quickly enthralled me and became my antithesis, will die in an interrogation cell all because he got caught up in a plot where he can’t even begin to see the full picture.

“I don’t...want you to die.”

“I won’t die.”

“How can you be sure about that!? You’ll be completely defenseless, and I-” My words catch in my throat, but I force myself to say them regardless. “I have to pull the trigger. I won’t be able to prevent that. There won’t be a second chance if we fail.”

“We won’t fail.” He sticks his free hand in one of his pockets. When he pulls it out, he has my glove in his hand. “We still have a promise to keep.”

“I can’t believe you have that stupid thing.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

I have no response to that. Instead, I respond with, “And you just so happen to have it with you.”

“I’ve had it with me since you gave it to me. And do you wanna know why? Because it’s from you.” He gently squeezes my hand, a lopsided grin spreading unbidden on his face. I had forgotten that he’s still holding my hand. “You’re my treasure.”

My eyes widen. “I’m your...what?”

“I mean it. I may be a Phantom Thief, but you’re the one who stole my heart.”

My stomach clenches. I try to ignore this feeling, for now. “Was that supposed to be a pickup line? If so, that’s the cheesiest one I’ve ever heard. And trust me, I’ve heard some extremely stupid ones.”

“What if it was?”

“I’d chastise you for your timing since you could be dead in four days.”

“I’m not going to die. I still have stuff I need to do.”

“Like what, fight a god?” I ask with just a touch of sarcasm.

He laughs at that. “No. But maybe I will just to prove to you that I can.”

I laugh as well, although mine is forced and devoid of any mirth. This time, I make sure he can hear my sarcasm as I reply, “Oh, that’s just brilliant. You’re going to fight god because you can.”

“And win, just for you,” he says with a wink, grinning at the prospect. My first thought is “what the hell is wrong with this boy”, followed immediately by “I think I love him”.

Oh.

So, that’s what this feeling is. How did I not realize sooner? It’s painfully obvious in hindsight. He’s the one person I’ve taken an actual interest in for a long time. Life always feels better when he’s around. But does he feel the same? No, he couldn’t. He can’t love someone as rotten as me. My heart refuses to listen to logic, though. Tentatively, I ask, “You’d really fight a god for me?”

“Yup!” Ren answers almost immediately. Yawning a little, he leans back against the futon and arcs his back for a moment. The motion almost reminds me of a cat. “Hey, Akeppi?”

There’s that dumb nickname again, though I can’t say we’re in public this time. “What?”

“It was a pickup line.”

I try to laugh it off as a joke. He cannot be serious. I don’t care if I hope that he means it; it’s not possible. “Surely you jest. I’m sure you have girls falling head-over-heels for you.”

“I may be Joker, but I’m not joking about my feelings towards you.”

“I lied. That is the cheesiest pickup line I’ve ever heard.”

“Is it working?”

I’m silent for a while, unsure of how to respond. I can’t deny that I feel something for the raven-haired boy sitting next to me. It’s complicated. Everything about him, from the way he looks at me with those beautiful gray eyes to the way he plays with his bangs when he’s lost in his thoughts to even the hum he makes when he’s thinking, it’s all so...perfect. I don’t deserve someone as special as him. I don’t. Yet here he is, willing to give me a chance. But, there’s no time for this silly romance cliche between us, not until Ren is decidedly not going to die at my hands. “Let’s just focus on surviving the rest of this week first.”

“Okay,” he replies. He doesn’t seem upset, which is a good sign. “Are you going to be okay tonight? If you want, I could stay the night.”

I shouldn’t even be surprised that he’s the one who suggests that first. “I...I suppose...but don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure Kawakami’ll cover for me.”

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you-”

“Don’t worry, you aren’t,” he immediately interjects, taking the opportunity to lean against me.

We must have managed to fall asleep there, because the next thing I know, it’s morning. Ren is still resting comfortably against me. People say that seeing someone sleeping makes them look more adorable, and now I can see why. His hair gently falls into his eyes, his lips parted ever so slightly as he dreams. Hoping not to disturb him, I place a soft, little kiss on his forehead. He continues to blissfully sleep. I don’t know if I’m imagining it or not, but I swear his lips twitched into a smile for a brief moment. I can’t help but smile wistfully back, even if he doesn’t see it. My voice is barely a whisper as I give words to the thoughts in my head.

“I love you, Ren. Please...don’t die.”

[finalgirlguy]

If I’m Being Honest

Fandom: Thomas Sanders/Sanders Sides

Pairings: Logicality, really really background prinxiety

Word Count: 2,557

Trigger Warnings: Cursing, pls tell me if there’s more

There are nights when Logan doesn't sleep. He certainly doesn't do it as much as Roman and Virgil, but from time to time, work piles up, and only pulling an all-nighter can solve it. That's the only reason he isn't sleeping, really. It would be incredibly childish of him to not sleep because of worries.

It's 6am, and Logan is almost giving up. Letters scramble in front of his eyes, until the e-mail he's reading turns into blurred lines. He closes his eyes, resting, just for a second-

A blue cardigan and a wicked smile, that shouldn't be wearing those clothes, shouldn't use that voice-

Maybe coffee will help.

(More under the cut)

Logan runs down the stairs the most silently he can. Yes, this will help. He starts to put the powder in the coffee maker, and life seems brighter, in a stupid 6am, no sleep, coffee smelling glow.

Patton trudges down the stairs, smiling to himself. His hand stops at the end of the stair, patting it once, and Logan's heart does some very weird thing.

"Good morning, Lo!" Patton sing-songs.

"Good morning, Patton" Logan answers, eyes trained on the coffee maker. "Did you sleep late yesterday?"

Patton moves to the counter and starts making tea for himself. "Hmm, not really" he mumbles. "We watched Singing In The Rain, but as soon as it was over I was already in my bed, sleeping. You missed a really good movie, you know."

"Thomas already saw that movie before" Logan replies, turning to the toaster. Maybe some toast and Crofters will ease the sour taste in his mouth.

"Still..." Patton turns Logan around "We missed your company" His hand touches Logan's wrist. And then, in an unbearably soft manner, his other hand comes up and sweetly touches the skin beneath Logan's eyes, darkened due to the lack of sleep. "And you need to rest, Lo." Patton chuckles lightly and sweetly.

Logan thinks he might be having a heart attack.

He steps back quickly, freeing himself from Patton's soft hands. "Yeah. Well. I need to get back to work soon." Patton's face falls, just for a quick nauseating moment, and then he smiles again. Logan pretends not to see it, just as he pretends not to feel Patton's eyes on his back as he stares at the toaster.

Maybe if Logan stares at the toaster intensely enough, his bread will pop out sooner.

A sickly sweet smile, Logan, everyone's favorite character, the wrong cardigan, features that were supposed to be kind and sweet turning sour and sarcastic, I don't know, Thomas, you might not like what you'll find, blue and grey clothes turning yellow and black-

Ping!

Logan grabs his toast and spreads Crofters on it, with the careful method of someone who has never been more tense in his entire existence.

His coffee is not ready yet. Shit.

Logan leans his hip on the balcony and takes a bite out of his toast. Patton seems to have decided to take part in the staring at objects game, because he's now looking truly focused at his kettle.

"I'm sorry for taking so long to appear while Deceit pretended to be me." Patton says quietly, and Lord, Logan can't bear to hear his voice right now. "Please don't be angry at me."

"I'm not angry at you for that."

"Then what are you angry at me for?"

"I'm not angry at you."

"It's okay if you are."

Logan takes a bite out of his toast. When did Crofters become so sour? Has it gone bad? "No, it's not."

"Then why are you acting like this?" Patton snaps, looking up. He's not angry or bitter or anything Logan wished he'd be, just horribly sad. "You keep avoiding me, you act like my touch is poisonous, you won't  talk to me- "

Logan's coffee is ready. He puts it in a cup, trying his best to not look at Patton.

"I'm- I'm sorry I left you feeling like that, Patton. I'm not angry at you. I swear. I need to. I need to get back to work. Upstairs. In my bedroom. Important work. Goodbye."

Logan nearly runs out of the kitchen with the cup in his hands. He's not bolting, or truly even running, he's not trying to escape from anything, he just needs to get back to his very important and very urgent work.

He closes the door behind him, nearly spilling his coffee as he slams the cup on his desk.

Paper, and lines, and numbers, and math Logan needs to do, and names he needs to remember, and dates he needs to write down. Logan stares at those little black lines, unable to focus, for a very long time.

He reaches to take a sip of his coffee. It's already cold. The mug is black and blue, with a silly chemistry joke written. Patton gave it to him.

Hey, Lo, I have a gift to you.

Oh. Patton. You didn't need to.

It's just- you gave me the sweater, and I thought I could pay you back. It's silly, I know, but I just thought you'd like it. It's not as nice as the thing you gave me.

It's... delightful, Patton. Thank you.

Logan wants to throw the cup at the wall, scream, toss all these papers and pens on the floor, tear his hair out, do something, something that will make his heart stop hurting so badly.

Logan has just come to the decision that if he kicks something he could just probably fix it in barely a thought, when Roman comes barging into his room.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He slams the door, making Logan look up from those damned numbers he has been staring into without really seeing.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Me and Virgil came downstairs and we found Patton. Do you know how he was, Logan?"

"You and Virgil came down together?"

"Don't change the subject." Roman's yelling, in such a dramatic Roman way. "He was crying, Logan."

Logan's fists clench in his lap. "He's not- is he- he's-"

Roman seems to struggle between being angry and being sorry. Logan hates the latter more. "You upset him."

Logan is looking through his window, without any memory of ever getting up and walking towards there.

"Look" Roman starts, careful but still clearly angry, "I don't know what's up with you, but I think I kind of know you, and this is about your feelings. So here's my advice: stop being a baby, Logan, deal with your damn feelings, and go apologize to Patton."

Roman leaves, and Logan falls to the floor. He thinks he might be dying, his chest stinging, his breaths coming out uneven. He remembers teaching Virgil about how to deal with panic. It seems so much easier on theory.

When he opens the door to Patton's room, the moral side is sitting on the floor. He's clearly been crying for a long time, and he's clearly on the brink of crying, and Logan doesn't know whether he wants to run away or hug him. He settles on sitting cross-legged in front of Patton.

"Did I make you uncomfortable?" Patton's voice is like wet cotton, choked and raw. "Is it a personal space thing? Because if it is you can just tell me I swear I'll stop touching you-"

"It's not a personal space thing."

Patton buries his face into his arms.

"Logan, whatever it is that I did, I'm sorry, if you tell me I swear I won't do it again."

"You didn't do anything wrong" You just smiled at me, Logan thinks, you just smiled at me and suddenly I was an idiot.

When Patton speaks again, his voice is muffled by his arm. "I can't bear to lose someone I love this much, Lo."

Logan thinks he might throw up.

"I- I love you too, Patton. You're the closest friend I have, and I know I'm not easy to bear."

Patton leans his chin on his arms, something so pure and sweet about that gesture. Logan struggles to not tuck a rogue strand of hair behind Patton's ear. "That's not how I meant it."

Logan isn't shocked, not really, because he's not an idiot, and Patton isn't the best at hiding his feelings, but he does crawl a little backwards as if he's been burnt.

"You shouldn't."

Patton stares at him for a while, as if he's trying to decipher a hidden message in Logan's words, but then he just deflated and chuckles, somehow equally sweet and bitter.

"Oh, Logan. I'm the Heart. All I know is loving."

"That's not true." Logan wonders if he's dreaming, and if this would be a good dream or a nightmare. "The Heart also feels other things. You also hate, Patton."

Patton looks at him with those shining eyes, reading every part of his soul like it's a giant billboard. "I don't hate you, Lo."

"But you should-" there's a line of logic here, Logan's sure ,  he has a point he's making, but he has no idea what point it is "I- I have done nothing but being rude and uncaring-"

"Lo, you're allowed to be angry. You're allowed to be bitter. Listen to me." Logan forces himself to focus on those eyes. "You're forgiven. Me, Thomas, Virgil, Roman, forgive you. We all love you."

"Not in the same way." Logan says, because he can't think of anything else to say.

Patton laughs. "No, not in the same way."

He reaches slowly forward, and cups Logan's face. Logan can hear a tiny Virgil in his head yelling "Flight! Flight! Flight!" and a tiny Roman saying "He smells like lavender".

"Patton, I-"

"If you don't want me to kiss you, say it, and I'll never talk about it again."

"That's not-" Logan huffs, hands falling on his lap. He feels like a child. "That's not the point-"

Patton's hand falls to Logan's neck, and he starts to straighten Logan's tie. "What is the point, then?"

Maybe it is Patton's room, because Logan can't form a single sentence. Every single drop of logic has left him.

After about 30 seconds, Patton's hand adjusts to hold Logan's. This time, Logan doesn't flinch.

"When Deceit showed up, as you..." Logan starts, after opening and closing his mouth 8 times, like a dying fish, "I didn't... realize he was... you know, not you. Virgil did, pretty early, and I- maybe I did notice, and decided to ignore it."

Patton's thumb starts to rub Logan's hand, and the logical side has to fight back a sob.

"He was- a cartoonish, almost offensive version of you, and I did... nothing. Because he... he smiled like you do. You have no idea how much that smile destroys me. And he, he was sweet, like you, and he said things you'd say, and I'm sure he knew that you'd say those things and that I'd react the way I did and all of this could have been solved earlier if I hadn't been such an idiot and-"

He stops abruptly, the room suddenly seeming to silent.

"And?" Patton asks, softly, as if he didn't already know it.

"And I hate it that someone else knows what I feel. I hate that I was manipulated because of what I feel. And I hate that I let him pretend he was you because I was too damn narcissistic." This feels like something that should be said in some much more private way, like in a confession to a priest, where the priest can't see his face, not while Patton stares at him with his all-knowing eyes. "I have tried to keep my heart to myself for a very long time, Patton, and you somehow make me show my heart to the entire world."

Patton is silent for a while, and then he says:

"No one's angry at you about the Deceit thing. I don't blame you for this. You were wrong.  It's alright. You don't have to be right all the time."

Logan doesn't know how to answer that. A part of him wants to scream that yes, he does need to be right, he's Logic, but... the way Patton said it, like it's an universal truth that people are allowed to be wrong sometimes. It's such a Patton thing to say.

"And, Lo, I think keeping your feelings to yourself all the time might be bad for you. Trust me, I hid my feelings a lot. Sometimes it's good to talk about it."

God, Logan wants to kiss him.

"I'm sorry," he says instead.

"Don't be." Patton says, smiling sweetly. "Let's do this. I'll tell you something in my heart, and you tell me something in yours."

Logan nods, like a child learning the alphabet.

Patton leans in and tugs Logan's hair behind his ear. "I love you." It feels so pure, so simple, an offering, that the only thing Logan can answer is:

"I love you too."

Patton beams. "Can I kiss you?"

Instead, Logan leans in and kisses him.

Logan tries, for some unknown reason, to number the things he's discovering in his head.

1: Patton not only smells like lavender, but also like lilies.

2: Patton's lips are chapped, and maybe trembling a bit, and Logan wonders if this taste is of peanut butter.

3: Patton's hand has moved to hold Logan's tie.

Logan just gives up numbering after that.

Patton leans away softly, a hand coming up to Logan's face.

"Oh, Lo, you're crying."

Logan's hand comes up to find that, yes, there is water running down his face.

"Fascinating."

Patton chuckles.

"Come on, it's probable the room. Let's get you out of here."

Patton is really smart, Logan thinks.

As soon as they enter the hallway, Logan feels like a weight has left his shoulders. He finds himself able to compose normal sentences again.

They sit on the floor again, side by side, hands intertwined. Patton leans his head on Logan's shoulder, and Logan kisses the top of his head instinctively.

"So" Logan says, "What is up with Virgil and Roman?"

Patton smiles knowingly, like he always does when they gossip. "Oh, I think they both slept at Virgil's room tonight."

Logan's eyes widen. "Did they-"

"Oh, no, not yet. They won't even admit they're in love yet. I don't think they  did  anything, they just slept in the same room because they enjoy the company."

"Virgil was very flustered when you asked, right?"

"As red as a tomato!" Patton laughs, nudging Logan's shoulder.

Logan sighs, pretending to be worried. "Oh, if only they could be as in touch with their emotions as I am with mine."

Patton laughs, but some glint of worry was still there. He leans and kisses Logan's cheek, quick and sweet.

"I'm not used to being able to do that" He says, smiling.

Logan pulls him closer and kisses his lips.

"I'm still not used to being able to do that."

They're immersed in their own bubble, not carefree, but aware that their worries can be solved. Roman and Virgil might walk into the hallway and see them in this odd place, Deceit might have his plans, Thomas can be hurt. But right now they are just sitting next to each other, holding hands, talking, kissing, loving each other, and right now that is enough.

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 23.5

Chapter title: Anybody Happen to know how the Hell To Do This?

A/n:  Eyyy! After two weeks Im back!! Just finished finals and decided hey finish your filler chapter! SO :D ANyway YES THIS IS A FILLER CHAPTER!! Because I couldnt write an actual one and ALSO NEEDED SOME LOGICALITY DEVELOPMENT ANYWAY IM SORRY IT SUCKS AND ENJOY

hi my names maria and i make everything bAD AND DRAMATIC FOR NO REASON :(

First | Previous | Next

words: 3476

summary: Patton and Logan work through some thing

pairings: Eventual logicality, prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Law and Courtroom, past trauma, crying and yelling, cursing

Ao3 Link  

The first thought was panic, panic as Patton felt an even heartbeat behind him, an arm securing him. His mind runs to the previous night. A safety around him.

“Where should I put him?” Logan asks, cradling a snoring Remus, struggling to find a comfortable position. Patton looks at his reflection in the mirror of his bathroom, his tired eyes happier than usual.

“He likes the middle” Patton responds, he hears careful shuffling but not justification with an answer. He finishes preparing for his sleep, brushing any stressful knots out of his more than curled hair.  “Log-” He quiets himself, his eyes land on the bed where a confused Remus sits up as Logan mumbles in his dazed state. He stifles a flustered chuckles.

Yet he felt the furthest thing from safe, absolute fear as he stumbles out of bed. Clutching instantly to the plastered walls of his room, his safe haven.

“Come here” He whispers to Remus, he waddles towards him jumping into Pattons arms. He laughs sweetly, placing a gentle kiss on Remus’s head. “Bed?” He asks, Remus nods through a yawn. He glances back at Logan but moves to the twins room, tucking in his son, making sure he feels comfortable, and safe. A promise of protection before he returns to his own room.

“No” He cries in a panicked hush, his palms forced closed. Logan startles awake standing fast as he watches Patton's breathing become unstable. The lawyer moves carefully, keeping a safe distance.

“Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell” He hears Logan mutter into the pillow, he covers a giggle before kneeling on the floor in front of the lawyer. He strokes his hair delicately, watching as Logans eyes flutter awake. “Mm?”

“Hi” He greets, the moon sneaking its way into the room. Logan smiles back through his state.

“I should head home” He decides, trying to get out of bed. Patton chuckles, shaking his head.

“Dont be ridiculous, its past midnight” Patton chides “You can stay here” He continues his gentle strokes. Logan musters up the laziest fight, feeling as though he’d only be intruding.

“Pat? Breathe for me?” He requests so gently. Patton nods, recognizing the voice, he watches as Logan approaches him. “You're okay” He assures, Patton loosens but keeps alert. He meets Patton face to face, taking his shaking hands in his own. “Come here” Once Patton eases into Logans hold,  his flinching gone, the lawyer leads him to the couch, wrapping a soft blanket around him.

“Ill go to the couch” Logan concludes, he sits up taking Pattons hands as they face each other.

“Adorable, come on lay back down, Ill get you some tea” Patton offers, Logan hums in satisfaction. He returns to find Logan struggling to keep his eyes open.

He feels safe once more, the familiar feeling returns. Patton remains, squeezing deep into his palms, feeling the pressure of his nails. Logan acts quickly, making a calming tea as he hands it to Patton, sitting in front of the man. Patton sighs, feeling his face heat up. Logan strokes away any loose hairs, covering Patton's shining eyes.

Once the tea is placed Patton situates himself on the other side of the bed, checking his phone before he shuts it off. He feels the bed move ever so slightly as Logan adjusts, his arm meeting Pattons in his deep slumber.  The lawyer waits for his typical reaction, for the deep panic to emerge, the whimpers of desperation, yet it never came. As Logan wrapped his arm around Patton, pulling him closer to his chest, nuzzling as he kissed Pattons neck. The lawyer felt nothing but safe.

“Goodnight love” Logan mumbles, a hot flutter as Patton instantly falls into the name.

“Im sorry” Patton bites his lower lip, Logan releases a sweet chuckle.

“You have nothing to apologize for, really” Logan promises, taking Pattons free hand in his own, the father bites his lip scared to object. Hoping to stop the lawyer from digging any further.  “Was that...something left over?” He hints, Patton averts his sullen gaze.

“I guess, Im sorry” He goes again, feeling stupid as Logan treads around him. Logan leans forward, kissing him softly on the forehead, keeping his protective hold on Patton. “You should go, I'm so sorry” He rambles.

“Patton enough apologizing” Logan begs, trying to keep his worrisome voice under control. Patton shakes his tired head, his eyes barely flinting.

“I'm a mess, you shouldn't have to deal with me” he pouts, rubbing away the gentle tears that begin flowing. Pathetic. You got emotional… “You should go, I am so sorry” He blubbers, every decent or controlling instinct floods away with exhaustion. “You'll get bored, and then you'll resent me and-” He chokes back a sob

“Patton what-”

“I'm afraid I'm not enough for you!” He blurts, his arms squeezing tightly to his chest as they fold over his heart. And there he was, a timid child, so desperate yet so undeserving of validation. Logan falls silent, not sure whether he holds a right to reach out.

“Not enough?” He barely breathes “You are more than enough, you are everything” He takes Patton's cheek. “I think you're just tired, maybe we need to talk about boundaries”

“Boundaries?” Patton tilts his head, Logan bites back a saddened expression, the concept so foreign to the father. He pushes through nodding.

“Yes, for example, when I get rather upset or frustrated I prefer to be left alone” He tells, Patton notes this keeping it locked in his mind. “Now you” Patton raise a brow, furled in confusion as he tries hard to think.

“I...I dont…” He fights to conjure something, to simply please Logan. He slumps his shoulders, resigning his efforts. An overwhelming pit of guilt forming in Pattons stomach but soon his mind clears. He’s not doing this to please Logan, this is for him “I want-” Logan raise his brow “I need you to be patient with me” He states, Logan bites back a proud smile

“Patience, I can do that” Logan agrees, he knows that it doesn't matter but a simple affirmation goes a long way. “What else?” Pattons never gotten this far

“I need you to tell me what you're doing.” Patton continues, though confused Logan nods. He notices the couch begin to shake, Pattons leg taps rhymically.

“Explain” Logan regains his attention

“I need- I just...I want to know what's going to happen.” He attempts to clarify his silly thoughts “If you're going to hug me, tell me. If you're going to hold my hand, let me know. If you're going-” He shakes his head “I just need to know whats going to happen” Patton pleads, not that his partner needs much convincing “It won't always be like that, just, for now...I need to know”

“And that makes perfect sense. You can tell me if you feel the need to but I dont require the same courtesy” Logan assures, Patton finds his honesty comforting “I need there to be space” He adds. Patton waits, playing with the loose strings from his blanket. “I don't want to be coddled or cared for every hour of every day” Somehow they both ease into the room, the warmth returning as it becomes their home, their place. “I need there to be communication, I'm going to take your hand now” He smiles, Patton allows him to do so, grateful for the genuine effort. “I need you to inform me as to what's going on in your head, how you are feeling” He rushes the next part “I know it may take time, but I hope you can try, slowly” A comfortable silence takes place, the pair listen to the morning world as each aspect awakes for the day. Playful fiddling takes place between them, a routine so easy, so familiar, they could perform it should they choose. A storm Logan think has passed, no forming a rainbow in its own time, finds one last raincloud.

“I need to be allowed to… be” Patton barely utters the last word. Logan jerks his head back towards him, watching as the light sparkle of blue averts its gaze. Fearing his own temperament, knowing where this stems, Logan maintains a calm demeanor. “I need to be allowed to be emotional, to feel, to be excited-” He stops his rants, catching a crisp breath. “I need to be me” He realizes, a discovery it seems more for himself, his eyes widening only slightly.

“Patton, I can promise you, under no circumstance will I ever stop or discourage you from being you” He squeezes the mans nervous hands. “You shall never feel that way again, If I can help it.” He takes a sharp but deepened breath. Patton leans forward, connecting their lips of promises and a new hope for them. “I need you to bring me coffee every morning” Logan jokes

“Nice try, love you though” Patton teases leaning forward, an excitement to say the phrase so true and so deep, taking his chin as he kisses him once more. It felt nice, to have it simply happen with no resistance, no feeling of obligation. “Breakfast time” He stands, taking their empty glasses to the kitchen. The even rush of water clearing his scrambled mind. Scrambled...scrambled eggs, he prepares the recipe in his mind.

“Mmm” He hums, pleasant as the calm morning happens. “Oh I hear children” He notes, sweet feet scatter towards him. “Good morning Remus” Logan greets, Valerie rushes by making her way to her father. Remus wastes no time securing himself in Logan's arms.

“Are you my dada now?” He exclaims through a yawn, Logan freezes as Patton drops a shattered glass. Logan jumps up instantly, tightening his hold on Remus.

“Angelface stay back!” Patton rushes, Valerie stops in her tracks, her wide eyes staring curiously. “Lo?” He asks, Logan nods taking Valerie away from the kitchen. Once the danger is cleared away, and a hushed conversation between the lawyers takes place, they sit the twins down on the couch. “Good morning my gems”

“Good morning papa!” They both greet with delighted smiles. Logan watches, trying hard not to let his smile grow. Patton laughs, stroking their messy hair.

“You had a question crabcake, care to explain?” Patton jumps right in, his son buzzing back. Logan fiddles with Valerie's excited feet, he's not sure why but neither seem bothered.

“Because he's my dada now!” Remus giggles “You love him, I love him and he loves me and you which means we’re family! Does that mean hes my dada now?” Remus decides, Patton looks up hoping a threatening flood will stop. Patton sighs, finding it much too early to watch Remus and Valeries hopes dim. ”You always say that love makes a family, no matter what” He grins, his toothy grin melting Patton.

But why should they?

Why should Patton say no?

Because of Logan, this isn't up to him, this is more than just about him

“Oh Remus, I-”

“You're absolutely correct Remus” Logan chimes in, Patton turns to him. “We are family now” He amuses the young boy. Patton takes his cheek kissing him, nodding through the most fragile of tears.

“Fam-ily!” Valerie cheers “I love you” She giggles, squeezing tightly to the two lawyers. Remus joins in soon after both run off to the backyard, to play in the remains of the dewey morning. The pair stand moving to the kitchen, facing each other once more.

“You didn't have to say all that Lo” Patton thanks, fiddling with Logans gentle fingers. “I know we haven't really had a moment to talk about...what all this means. I'm sorry if that put you in an uncomfortable position” Patton breathes

“Love, we can talk about this later, no reason to put them down on this fine morning” Neither phased by the adoring name, Patton finding it quite common really. “In addition, I am not uncomfortable” Logan assures, he kisses Patton's cheek, leaving a very flustered Patton to fall back into his blushed routine.

~~~

“My idea of a perfect family isn't marrying a woman!” Patton argues, Logan cocks his head as he closes the door into Patton's office. The lawyer waves to Logan, frustrated as he paces back and forth. “My children mom! My beautiful twins, the man I love and my friends! That's my family!” He shouts, Logan debates whether he should be upset or if his heart shall beat faster “Mother! Do not come down here!” He scoffs, angrily hanging up the phone, clutching the chair.

“How's your day going love?” Logan jokes, Patton rolls his eyes playfully.

“Haha very funny” Patton purses his lips, Logan smirks at him, flipping through some loose files upon the table. The door creaks open, a sweet assistant peeking her head through. “Whats up Willow?” Patton inquires

“Uhm, I-” She fidgets, her face heating up quickly. Logan adjusts to look at her. “Miss Bernard would like to speak to mister Tolentino” She swallows, Logan stands cautious but looks to Patton first. Both prepared to rejoin in the hallway but it seems the young lawyer has her own plans. She steps in, taking a grim look around.

“Thank you Willow” She looks to the assistant, was that a hint of mockery?

“Thank you Willow” Willow repeats clearly deriding her words, both sharing a solid glance before the assistant removes herself, bored of the high and mighty. An amused glance is shared between the men but Diana carries on.

“What can I do for you Diana?” Patton inquires with a smile, fully aware of her intent to question Logan. He upholds his kindness, knowing things don't have to be strictly business.

“Must you be so nice” She jokes, her relief setting in “Unfortunately Patton Im here to talk to mister Tolentino. Seeing as he was-”

“Your predecessor on the case?” Logan finishes, interjecting with his formulated words. Diana nods in agreement. “Makes sense to me, would you care to follow me to my office?” He stands, dusting off his prim outfit. She smiles uneasy, finding his presence less comforting then the shining one of Patton. Logan turns to Patton, leaning over the desk to kiss him sweetly on his soft cheek. “Dinner?”

“Dinner” Patton concludes, returning his focus to his work as the two lawyers leave him.

Diana walks silently alongside Logan, skipping through the marbled halls, playing her own game. The lawyers find no qualms but no connection, simply they are, as two isolating figures.

“Owo we have to set boundaries!! Oh Patttttooooonnnnn” Roman mocks in the utmost nasally voice he can conjure. Logan sighs as they continue walking. Roman joins their journey, skipping delighted.

“I'm going to slap you” He threatens, Roman laughs, shaking his head.

“Do it coward, I dare you” The judge challenges, Logan stops them in their path. Staring right into the previously fiery eyes, now filled with an amber fear. “You should know Patton tells me everything”

“Not to be made fun of I presume?” Logan contradicts, Roman rolls his eyes nudging the lawyer. “That's what I thought” He holds his head up high

“Dude, i'm just screwing with you, I think its good” Roman assures, Diana hums softly on her end. Finding no place in this conversation she skims her files. “Miss Bernard” Roman greets

“Your honor” She breathes, a hint of annoyance. The two actually present themselves quite similarly, Logan notices. “Mister Tolentino I hate to interrupt but I do have a lot of work to get to-”

“Yes, I understand, apologies” Logan laments, turning to a gazing Roman “Roman, I will talk to you later” He nods, the judge walks away seemingly joining an idle James by the fountain.  A sweet kiss shared between them, Logan raises an eyebrow but continues walking. Once they've reached his office, the shift in temperature hits the young lawyer quickly. A chill runs down her spine, tensing it as Logan barely glances her way. “Please, do sit” He offers, however his tone commands. But she does, and soon they face off yet seemingly on the same team.

~~~

“City councilman?” Patton breathes softly into the phone. He listens, though silent, his mind practically stretches with his thoughts. He walks through the crowded halls, frantic as he packs away his things. “No I mean..Im..I need to-” Cut off by more opportunities and new journeys, he smiles at a patient Logan who waits by reception. “yes , no Leo I understand-” He bites his lower lip, shaking his head “Got it, thanks”

“Everything alright?” Logan checks, taking his hand as he approaches. Feeling his anxieties wash away, dripping to the floor, feeling safe in Logan's touch. He leans in kissing his cheek, the softest of skin.

“Yeah, let's get to dinner” He pushes the other things out of his mind, watching his worries and questions seep away, himself leaning into the security of Logans gentle, curious smile. It doesn't take too long, besides the constant checking in with Virgil and the twins the ride itself is peaceful. The lawyers find themselves settled into the restaurant fast enough.

“I think it would be in our best interest to get right into business, as to enjoy the dinner once we have concluded our discussion” Logan advises, tapping the table. Patton sets down his water nodding.

“I couldn't agree more” Patton traces the brim, listening to the faintest hum from the glass. “So…” He drags it out, Logan smirks under the dimmest of lights.

“The kids” Patton states

“Yes you have them” Logan replies, knowing his words were silly. He was nervous, he wasn’t sure how to approach this, how to express a certain desire he assumed would go away but stuck through. “I would like, through the course of our relationship and however that might progress, to be apart of their lives” he explains, Patton keeps his face. He loved Logan, truly, but his kids would always come first. Every person who had even the tiniest place in their lives Patton made sure that for whatever he could do that they were safe and happy. Now he knew Logan and he knew he wanted him in their lives. But that was then, that was when he knew what he would be doing, now things change. To be blunt, now he isn’t just looking at a friend and caretaker, he’s looking at someone who’s going to be around for awhile, someone who will raise and discipline and love his kids.

“A father” he whispers, realizing to himself. Logan only hears the whistle of his soft words but not the substance. “Logan I don’t doubt that, but do you understand what you’re getting into?” He wasn’t just looking out for his kids, he wanted Logan to understand. He could be jeopardizing his relationship, his everything with Logan but he’s not going to allow the man to end up with something he doesn’t want, can’t handle or doesn’t make him happy.

“I don’t think I do either” Logan admits, he leans forward “But I don’t you did when you first had them. It’s a learning process, a place to grow.” Patton goes to rebut but Logan moves fast “And that is what you have to be understanding, that is what you have to be willing to do. Wanting to do” he breathes “and I want to. I want to learn, I want to be, in the most forward of terms, a parent” Patton inhales gently, soft breath not filling his mind quickly enough. “If you’ll let me and if you want me to” he adds, reaching out a hand, ready to receive. Biting his lower lip Patton takes the hand.

“Congratulations, you’ve got the job” He jokes, though forced his voice chuckles. Something sits uneasy with him, it’s not Logan it’s simply his uncertainty. He doesn’t know where to go from here, how does one go from being a friend to someone you love, who will be around, who your kids will see and soon enough see them as more than just ‘Dads friend’. Wide eyes as the reality set in, Patton didn’t know how to do this anymore. He had been on his own for so long, through every late night, every sickness, every fight, every tantrum and every tear. He didn’t know how to share that with someone, how to let them in.

He didn’t know how to let it be a good thing

How to let his previous fears wash away and embrace that maybe someone really wants to love him and care for him, and he can do the same without the fear of obligation. Someone who wants his kids as much as he does, to sit through those nights, to snuggle as they watch movies, to help when they get too much.

He didn’t know

And that frightened him

[shinygoku]

Liar Revealed! A Bug’s Life Essay

A Bug’s Life is my favourite Pixar movie and thus, it turns out I have a lot of thoughts about it. In this case, what was originally my interpretation soley in response to points I’ve seen raised on YouTube and TV Tropes has spun off into this mega essay.... all focused on a single scene.

But hey, it works with one of the film’s main messages; that something big grows out of a small idea!

The scene is the most notorious in the movie, at least from what I’ve seen, and I’m inclined to agree it’s the weakest part of this giant clock. But why is it like that and how could it have been handled better?

As I’ve said, this is actually my favourite (albeit not what I consider their very best) of Pixar’s output, and I wouldn’t have been able to go into such depth without a huge amount of love for the finished product, flawed as it may be.

It’s also possible I’ll write a more generalised thing on what I love about the film in the future, but I won’t promise anything o7;; 🐜

The Lie is ...laid

Actually, I should talk about two scenes. First is where the Lie is established:

After the humourous mutual misunderstanding between the Circus Bugs and Flik, the former are quite horrified to discover they’re expected to fight the Grasshoppers off themselves instead of putting on a show. Ahh, that old classic~

But no, they want out and Flik, who has just been informed by them during the welcoming shindig, is understandably rattled and despairing over this addition to his list of failures. He says the fallout will not only brand him, but his hypothetical grandchildren as a Terrible Loser and even says he’s as good as dead as soon as the other ants find out. Owch.

Before things get too heavy, the focus shifts around until The Bird becomes the main immediate threat. The whole Bird scene leads the ants to become convinced the Circus Bugs are really amazing warriors and, as this is the first time in what could be years that they have a crowd cheering for them it’s the success and Flik’s later idea to make a Giant Mech in the shape of a Bird instead of planning any actual combat that convinces them to play along.

So, that’s the lie set up and solidified. Now for the eventual fallout:

During a fun party after the Bird has been built, an ominous force arrives... PT Flea, the Jerkass ringmaster who had fired the Circus Bugs. This local bug promptly ruins everything by literally shining a light on the Circus Bugs and their nature as such, and then Flik is accidentally outed as the Guy Who Thought Up The Bird.

The Liar Revealed Trope

I would link the TV Tropes article here, but as tungle doesn’t like external sites I’ll just quote the more relevant parts from it:

“Liar Revealed in the Internal Reveal of The Lie, the facade maintained by a protagonist which provides the primary dramatic tension for the plot. This usually sets up the third act where the protagonists are forced to deal with the consequences of the lie on top of any external threats.

There are a few usual ways this ends up. If the lie was for selfish reasons, the protagonist will doubtless face the wrath of those he lied to, but along the way end up having a change of conscience, and try to redeem themselves through good acts and An Aesop about "what really matters". If the lie was well-intentioned, the protagonist may still find that others turn their backs on him, but go on to carry through with what they said they'd do anyway, proving themselves a hero after all.

It's worth noting that this trope is particularly easy and common to misuse, either in the tendency of the protagonist to Maintain the Lie for reasons that make no sense except for dramatic tension or of the deceived to turn against the protagonist for the deception in spite of other considerations that should by all rights absolve him.”

And in the folder there’s a specific entry for this film:

A Bug's Life has Flik supposedly finding "warrior bugs" to save his colony after misconstruing a situation. When he realizes his mistake (that they're circus performers rather than trained warriors), he's forced to keep the lie going in order to not cause panic among the other ants. Once the colony finds out, it inevitably results in one of the most painfully Played Straight examples of this trope in animation history... 

As you can see there, the dislike for this scene has seeped into the entry. Of course, TV Tropes is pretty informal and I like that, but it’s telling that this is a general perception.

Continue reading below the Cut! ✂

What I don’t like

So, I think my main issue with the scene boils down to... it’s very nebulous and unclear as to what’s so bad about Flik lying. Between the Council, the Queen and Atta, there seems to be a jumbled, confusing motive traffic jam that somehow results in what TV Tropes refers to the Liar Reveal Trope being played “Painfully Straight”.

But uhh, what’s the problem? Yes, Flik lied, but we know that wasn’t something he’d planned on doing, it was his attempt at damage control. The other ants don’t know that part, but still, what are they objecting to, specifically? That the Circus bugs are Circus bugs? That the Bird Plan was Flik’s? That.... lying is treated at an absolute moral failing regardless of the circumstances??

The council dudes are like: “OH WHAAAAT, the defence plan was by Clowns??” [No, it was Flik] ���OH WHAAAT, we don’t have our mafia money prepared what if Hopper finds out we nearly sicced a fake bird on him!?”

The part about objecting to Clowns drafting the defence plans is actually the more reasonable explanation, but I guess they presumed warriors habitually made Decoy Bird plans instead of fighting themselves? There’s already a hole in their objections but it only gets worse.

The Queen is like: “Wow Flik evidently you’re a self serving prick. Anyway the best thing to do is pretend this never happened and no we’re not going to tell Hopper.”

Why the fuck would that happen? ‘Oh sorry Hopper we got sidetracked doing a ...thing... so we’re still picking your food no please don’t break my legs’

But also, why THE FUCK is this the plan? Some ruler you are, you old prune. ‘We have the bird all made and ready to go but oops the idea came from a DIRTY LIAR so we’re going to return to the doomed harvesting racket even though we’ve been set an outrageous amount and we can’t possibly hope to catch up and even if we had been picking the food the entire time it was established earlier on we won’t have time for our supplies on top of all that.’

Fucking.... astonishing lack of logic. YOU MORONS HAVE NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE, GO WITH THE BIRD! Flik himself says something to a similar effect lol

But noooooo, his arguably selfish lie [which is more Omitting the truth once he knew it, really] has forever doomed everything, apparently. Honestly it comes across more like they just hate Flik and see anything he invents as doomed to fail, so the second the truth emerges that he spearheaded the Mech Bird they dismiss it as a lost cause. Even though everyone worked together to build it, and Flik’s inventions weren’t the issue but him being awkward and clumsy. But seeing how Flik’s mere presence in his first scene seemed to drive the Council members into a quivering fury, it really does feel like their objections are from them refusing to give him a chance.

And then there’s Princess Atta. Hoo Boy.

In this scene, she comes off as being ridiculously vindictive, petty and hypocritical. This applies to the Council too, but it’s more galling coming from Atta as by now she’s realised that Flik gets a lot of flak [yay wordplay] from the others and she had resolved to give him more credit. BUT OOPS, that didn’t last!

She takes the Lying thing so personally, acting like he was cheating on her or something. “You lied to MeEeEee” well golly gee whiz, was there any particular reason why he would tell you the truth? Other than his rather obvious crush on you, that is? Cause that would still be a weird reason, seeing how the ‘lie’ was after he’d finally got a bit of decent treatment from the others, why would he wanna upset the apple cart?

He probably feared coming out and confessing to Atta [or anyone else] that they’d lose all faith in him and scrap a valid plan that was the only way out of the grasshopper racket mess. Which would be a bit silly and probably the result of someone with low self esteem and confidence issues overthinking the situation but it’s Exactly what actually happens!

It wasn’t a personal slight against you, Princess! To quote Helen Parr: THIS IS NOT! ABOUT! YOU!!

And wooow, you must be awfully chilly up there on your high horse, Miss “Lied to Flik to get rid of him earlier in the film”! Did you ever feel like fessing up? Like ‘hmm I’ve grown much fonder of this doofus, maybe I should be honest with him before engaging with some more light flirting’ ? Maybe if you had, he woulda been honest in return!

I don’t even see why she and the Council bothered lying about their Snipe Hunt ploy, seeing how now they act like he crossed a moral event horizon. Why even bother making a phoney baloney decoy idea to get him away, when they clearly dislike him enough to play the Brutally Honest card without fretting over his feelings. They coulda just ordered him to stay in a corner away from interfering but instead they’re willing to risk his life on a wild goose chase.

...And she then Banishes him! For what?? Lying? About what, the circus bugs or the bird plan? Both?? It really feels like her taking undue personal offence and the Council hating him and the Queen being old and senile.

So yeah, wow, this scene has what I think is the Unintended side effect of making me hate the stupid jerkface Ant colony as every named ant in it except for Dot fucking suck and throw Flik under a bus the second they deem him to be untrustworthy. In spite of, like, that the plan itself was solid and that the Circus Bugs have all been proven to be Good Eggs. They don’t give him a chance to explain and made their own bed to lie in, so I feel dark joy and satisfaction when the grasshoppers do arrive and kick them around some more.

Wow gee, if only you dumb ass ants had some sort of already made contraption to fall back on?

Why is it like this?

I can only make guesses here, be warned!

From what I’ve gathered of an older version of the story, mostly via Wikipedia, I kinda feel like the exposing would have fit that take better. In the beta version of the story, instead of Flik the lead would have been “Red”, who was a red ant and circus bug from the start. The first draft Circus lot woulda been out to scam the ants initially and I guess would have grown genuine fondness with time. The idea of an outsider flim flamming his way into the good books and later being exposed makes the overblown outrage a lot more understandable. But that’s my hypothesis for the direction they ultimately didn’t go in. Also look at how Red looks like a fuckboi here:

But in the final version, Red doesn’t exist! Flik is a part of the colony from the get go, but also apart from it cause no one likes him as, again, his ideas were good but poorly executed and he seemed to be a hindrance. But the ants should at least see that Flik is genuine in his attempts, that he’s trying his best and they should maybe cut him some slack.

The way the ants have their knickers in a twist doesn’t gel so well with the “Well meaning screwup” angle, especially compared to a possible “Opportunistic so-and-so who doesn’t have real attachments to the colony” route.

Also it may be worth noting up there where I put a TV Tropes excerpt, I bolded the relevant half of the run down, but it seems the other half applies much more to this first draft. Interesting...

So I don’t know, but I got the idea that the scene in the movie is basically a holdover from earlier that didn’t get sufficiently updated. The Liar Revealed Scene is the first thing I’d change if I were rewriting the script, and I might go back and change it again after other parts had been redone too, cause the story needs to flow from point A to point B etc. smoothly or else viewers will get annoyed and point it out in Youtube videos or overly long tumblr text posts.

How could it be fixed?

I’m not saying I’m sitting on the perfect idea of a rewrite. But the main thing is what I already touched on, the jarring disconnect between what happens and how the stupid ants respond.

Like, Atta’s sudden grabbing of the Jerkass and Idiot Balls in this scene. Wouldn’t it have been better if she was instead unsure and conflicted? She had lied to Flik earlier and, unlike the Council, was shown to actually realise Flik Has Feelings Too and apologised for the general lack of faith. She didn’t come clean about the Snipe Hunt Lie, so that could be weighing on her during this scene, maybe she would have been the only Council member to Not want to kick him out but felt pressured into it and hasn’t got into the groove of being the Future Queen enough to pull rank and talk them down from being hate filled twats. Maybe someone will mention the flirting that had been happening as muddying her judgement?

That’s my main idea, compare that with her barging in and taking undue personal offence and shooing him off. She’s supposed to feel like she’s doomed to fail too, so her facing a moral dilemma and falling on the wrong side of the fence could tie into that! (To be honest, her arc is kinda undercooked so hey, I’m killing two birds with one stone here!)

Flik being banished at all is a casualty of The Narrative, that he and the Circus Bugs have gotta go away temporarily for the finale to be cooler and more exciting. It’s a Necessary Weasel of writing and you’ll find them in every story ever made. Sometimes things have gotta happen cause Story Structure. The trick is having them more organic and concealed.

So yeah, have the Old Fogeys be in the wrong [which is so far unchanged] but also the majority of the ‘voting’. Make it difficult for Atta to choose between loyalty to the colony as a whole and her sense of duty versus trusting in Flik, who she now knows to always have his heart in the right place. She comes close to standing up for him and herself, but ultimately falters and gets pressured into the call made in the movie. She’s still ultimately responsible as leaders are, but in a much more sympathetic way.

Summation

This got way longer than I had initially imagined, and that’s even after I cut stuff in the editing process! Let’s quickly review the three main points I’m trying to make.

The Issue with the scene - A big song and dance is made over The Lie, but no reason why it’s such a terrible thing is offered. A perfectly sound plan is dismissed nonsensically.

Suspected reasoning for the writing - The tone matches a potential alternate story much better, where someone would have lied for self serving purposes instead of for the greater good.

A suggestion for a rewrite - Make it much more nuanced and fitting the character arcs. Give the characters a reason to react the way they do and have different responses per person. If the ants are going to drop the Bird plan, at least offer a more viable alternate route than going back to what wasn’t working before.

Does it really matter?

Well, I don’t expect a 22 year old film to suddenly get a rewrite, no. And I maintain that it’s a real gem which deserves much higher praise with the other Good Pixars instead of being so constantly overlooked.

Part of what spurred me to think about the scene and what I’d alter is seeing it referred to as ‘Kinda Bad’ in a youtube video that was talking about another Liar Reveal scene in another movie, and that is a bad take, but the point about how clunky this part is isn’t wrong. I don’t want people to dismiss the whole, beautiful image cause one section of it doesn’t vibe!

It doesn’t ruin the picture, but when people have something negative to say it’s this which is the magnet. And I’m kinda guilty of doing the same thing here, haha. But I wanted to really dissect and examine it, to figure out why it’s like that and to guess how simple it may be to rework. It’s bittersweet, but there ain’t such a thing as a perfect movie.

This has been fun for me to go into though, and it’s nice to get thoughts out from just swirling around inside my head, so even if barely anyone sees and makes it through this whole dissertation, I’m glad I wrote it out. It’s a funny way to derive enjoyment from the bumpy part of a beloved movie, but hey, I’ll take it~

[bellatrixobsessed1]

In Chrysalis (Part 8)

It is nice to wake up to Keith and even nicer to wake up knowing that much of the bad blood has been cleared. She is still rather sore but the weariness is slowly ebbing away. She sits up and stretches her arms. With any luck, she’d have her energy back in another day. Evidently, she still feels rather refreshed; asking her silly question had lifted a weight that she didn’t know she had carried and she intends to lift another.

 Keith is still asleep as he usually is when she awakens. She brushes her hand over his hair and kisses his ear. The CD she had chosen had run out of songs during the night, but she wants to start her morning with another. She thinks of waking Keith but she doesn’t want to wake him for something so minor. So, making as little noise as possible, she tip toes over to the radio and looks it over. The little symbols on it, have no meaning to her, so she tries to recall what buttons Keith had pressed. She pokes at a few of them, but the CD compartment does not open. She tries twisting the knob on top, until it can be turned no more. She rubs her chin when it still does not open. As a last effort she tries pushing on the latch, this is what opens the compartment. Satisfied with herself, she puts the Led Zeppelin album back in its place and finds a new one. She does not know what an Iron Maiden is, but the album cover looks interesting enough. She puts the disk in and presses numerous buttons until the music beings.

What she didn’t expect was the volume of it. She jolts as Keith bolts up, nearly leaping right from the mattress. He scrambles up to the radio and turns the knob in the opposite direction she had.

 “Sorry…” She mumbles.

 Keith laughs. “Well, gee, if you wanted me to wake up you could have just shook me or something.” He rubs the back of his head and then rubs the sleep from his eyes. “I’m going to have to teach you to use the radio, aren’t I?”

 Acxa nods, she has been curious about it from the start. But that isn’t what she wants to do today. “Keith, I have to ask you something.”

 “Go for it.” He seems like he is in such a good mood and she doesn’t want to ruin it by brining up dismal subjects.

 She doesn’t exactly know how to ask, just thinking of it brings a tinge of pink to her cheeks. But she is curious no less. “Do you like half-Galra me or human me better?”

 .oOo.

 He doesn’t know why she asks these kinds of questions. It doesn’t particularly bother him any, but he doesn’t understand the need. These questions always take him by surprise because throughout their battles she always had such an impeccable air of confidence. It is strange to hear her vocalize her insecurities. Strange, but oddly reassuring; he knows, ultimately, that she is comfortable with him. And he supposes that, maybe—probably, she harbored these uncertainties all along. It was simply safer to keep them to herself.

Even still he can’t give her the answer she is probably looking for. A definitive one.

 “I guess I don’t have a preference.” He starts.

 She tilts her head.

 “Half-Galra or human, I don’t see a difference.”

 “I can ask Veronica if you can borrow her glasses.” Acxa replies.

 He has to laugh because he can’t tell if she is joking or if she really has taken his word literally. “Okay, you look different. But that’s not what I meant. I meant that you’re still you. Half-Galra or human, you still act like you.” He stares at her for a second, “why?”

 She runs her fingers through her hair before answering with a question of her own. “Would you be upset with me if I said that I didn’t want to be half-Galra again?”

 The question throws him off guard. He has been under the impression that, that was one of her many motivations for going on missions with them. “Why would I be?”

 She shrugs.

 “That’s your decision to make, not mine. Do what makes you comfortable.”

  .oOo.

 But that was just it, she doesn’t know what would make her feel comfortable. She looks to the floor, on one hand she missed aspects of her Galra self; the horns, the look of her eyes, and, more than anything, the battle perks of her Galra blood.

On the other hand, she thinks that her fully human self is easier to love. It brings her a sense of security in fully belonging to one species. She thinks that she can work around human physical limitations.

 “Do you have even a slight preference?”

 “Acxa, I like you the way you are.” He cups her cheek and tenderly strokes it with his thumb.

 She could take that as him telling her that he liked fully human Acxa, but she knows better. She knows exactly what he means. She knows that this is another rephrasing of, ‘whatever makes you happy, makes me happy.’ “I don’t know what makes me happy.” She confesses. Years ago after parting ways with Lotor, she vowed to forge her own path and her own goals. She didn’t realize how many of her desires, how much of her personality, had been shaped by others until then. Until she found herself truly free. A few years and she still doesn’t know exactly what leaves her feeling fulfilled and stable.

Acceptance, she decides. She craves unconditional love and acceptance.

But that was just one thing.

One thing of many.

 “How about this.” Keith interrupts her thoughts. “Whatever happens, happens.”

 “Hmm?”

 “You don’t know if you want to stay human or go back to being half Galra, so just see what happens.” He rephrases. “If we manage to get our hands on Haggar’s research notes and equipment go back to being half Galra. If we can’t, then we can’t and it’s no big deal, right?”

 It seems so simple. So simple, yet so logical. “Right.” She agrees. She isn’t one to just let things fall into place, in fact she doesn’t care for the lack of control that comes with leaving things to fate. But perhaps it is time for another risk.

A risk has earned her, her freedom.

A risk has earned her companionship.

 She slides her arms around Keith’s middle and squeezes. “Thank you, Keith.”

 .oOo.

 He can’t help but grow somber in Acxa’s embrace. Truth be told, despite his words, he was worried about her and the decision she would make. He frets that she will make a choice that she will regret, one that she won’t be able to come back from.

 She pulls out of their embrace and splays herself across the bed again. She is wearing his sweater—something that made one perk of her having a smaller build—and a pair of fuzzy slippers. All in all she looks cozy.

 “I’m going to be going to a meeting with the paladins about Haggar. Coran thinks that he found her main laboratory. It’s in a few hours, do you want to come or should I fill you in?”

 “I will come with.”

 He hadn’t expected any different of her. “Alright, well I’m going to go grab a shower.”

 He turns the knob and lets hot water run over his naked skin. It runs in rivulets over the curves of his muscles and a relaxing feeling settles in. He needed a good shower it gives him time to clear his head. All in all, he decides that he doesn’t regret anything that has happened so far. He still feels bad for snapping at Acxa, but he is happy that it happened all the same. Somehow, he feels as though it was what was needed to get her to let down some of her walls.  She is a hard woman to crack but he thinks that she is finally letting people in. People who aren’t just him.

And she needs that. He wants her to bond with others.

 Steam is beginning to curl around him as he lathers his hair. He is anxious for the meeting because he doesn’t know if he’s ready to lead the paladins into Haggar’s laboratory. They had just barely made it out the last time. He likes to think that he is a solid leader, but having a good five or six recent failed missions and only two successes doesn’t do his confidence nor stress levels any good.

 What if he can’t make the right call when it matters the most?  What if he will lead his friends to destruction and save no one? He knows the answer. And he knows that it is grim. He knows that to fail this mission is to fail the universe. If they can’t stop her, Haggar will have a full-blown Galra army and probably the resurrection of her son.

 Keith shudders.

 He has to toughen up and be the leader everyone is expecting.

He has to put on his brave face, though he is feeling anything but courageous.

  .oOo.

  Little beads of moisture cling to his hair, giving him a charm that flutters Acxa’s belly. “You take long showers.” She notes.

 “Yeah, I have a lot to think about.” He said glumly.

 “What were you thinking about?” She asks. Whatever it was, it had sapped away the morning’s optimism.

 “I’m worried about the mission.” He admits. “I don’t know why I’m the group leader…”

 Acxa puts a hand on his shoulder. “Because you are good at it, Keith.”

 “Good at it?” Keith questions. “I yelled at you and helped isolate you from the team. And then, during the last mission, I let them argue with you again and you ended up on your own and…”

 She can tell that he doesn’t want to say it so she cuts in, “I can handle myself.”

 “But a good leader wouldn’t have forced you to.”

 “You didn’t force me to do anything.” She sternly objects. “You could be a lot worse. Look at what happened to my old team. Narti is dead. Lotor killed her. I betrayed Lotor and then I abandoned Zethrid and Ezor. At least you didn’t kill your own comrades. At least you didn’t abandon or double cross them. You’re honest and you do what you think is best.”

 “Right, I’m not a murderer, at least I have that. At the rate things are going I might just turn everyone against each other.”

 He has missed the point, “a team is going to have falling outs.” She pauses. “Believe it or not, I talked to Ezor and Zethrid again. We worked some things out. Even if your friends fight me again…or fight each other, I’m sure you can help sort things out.”

 “When did you talk to Ezor and Zethrid?”

 “When I was taken by Haggar. She was experimenting on them too. “They were taken to a different laboratory than I. I think it is the one we plan on infiltrating.” She knits her brows and her expression changes entirely, “don’t change the subject on me, Keith!”

 He gives a soft chuckle. “You caught me.”

 “You’re a good leader.” She locks eyes with him. “I’ve been under so many leaders and none of them have treated me as well as you. You have something that they don’t.”

 “What’s that?”

 “Compassion.” She answers. “You are patient and encouraging. You treat your comrades as equals. That is important, Keith. That is why our team can afford fights and fall outs, because there is a lot of trust and respect.”

 “Are you sure that you don’t want to be the team leader.” Keith offers.

 “I apricate the offer, but I am more of a follower.” She is more comfortable being second in command.

 Keith looks at the time. “Hey, I think you should grab a shower before the meeting.”

 She shoots him a stern glare.

 “I’m not trying to change the subject, I swear.” He lifts his hands. “I just need time to think about what you said.”

 She folds her arms, she doesn’t entirely believe him. But she gives in regardless, she really could use a shower. Truth be told she has been avoiding the shower because it always left her even more room to dwell on her transformation. “Knock, if I take too long.”

 He nods and with that, she closes the door and slips out of Keith’s sweater. In the mirror she notes that most of the bruises are gone, there are only faint traces of them on her hips. She supposes that this is a good thing. But it alarms her all the same, because they should be fully gone by now.

 She also notes that it is becoming easier to look at herself again, there is no more unease nor surprise. She is growing somewhat used to her reflection; it is becoming familiar though she still discovers new aspects of it every now and again.

 As she stands in the shower, she makes such a discovery. It is a birthmark, much like many of her freckles, it had been so faint on her Galra skin that she hadn’t noticed it before. It is a small blotch on the side of her elbow and she notices it while sweeping the soap down her arm. She wonders if Keith had noticed it. He had certainly noticed the freckles. She smiles to herself, now that she has had some time with her human body, she finds that she rather enjoys these little discoveries. These little things that make her who she is.

 She hears a knock on the door and hurries to wrap things up.

 .oOo.

 He feels sort of bad for dragging Acxa with him while her hair is still dripping. He asks her if she is sure that she doesn’t want him to fetch another towel. She hushes him and tells him that they don’t have time for that and that wet hair is probably the easiest struggle she has to deal with.

 Shiro stands at the head of the table. “Very recently, Coran and Allura have picked up a Glara transmission. A very important one, and that is what we are here to discuss.” He opens the floor to Coran.

 “By chance, we happened upon a signal that came from one of Haggar’s labs.” Coran explains. “We managed to trace it before we were discovered. What we found out is that we had come across a laboratory much bigger than the other ones we’ve infiltrated so far.”

 “We think that this larger laboratory is the heart of her experimentation. If Haggar has any research notes left, we think that they will be in there.” Allura adds. “The problem is, the witch knows that we know where she is hiding. Which is why we have to act fast.”

 “Fast but with a plan.” Shiro puts in.

 “We may have more time then we think.” Lane points out. “She can’t move a whole laboratory in one day.”

 “Yeah, but she can move her notes.” Pidge says.

 “Who cares about the notes, it’s the prisoners we need to save.” Hunk replies.

 “Acxa cares about those notes.” Veronica speaks up and faces turn to look at the former half-Galra.

 “The notes are a low priority.” She says smoothly. “Keith and I have discussed this earlier. If you can retrieve the notes safely, get them. If you can’t, then I suppose that I will figure something else out.”

 “So, like, no hard feelings if we can’t turn you back?” Hunk asks hopefully.

 “No hard feelings.” She confirms. “I would rather have Ezor and Zethrid back.”

 “Oh yeah…I forgot about them.” Hunk winces.

 “We’d all rather have the prisoners safe.” Shiro concludes, “everyone is in agreement there.”

 “We’d also all rather make sure everyone on this team makes it out safely.” Keith notes. “I know that we try to put the universe first, I also know that this was a bit controversial, but Acxa had a point on our first mission together. We have to look out for ourselves and each other too.”

 This initiates a soft mutter and he sees Acxa tense up next to him. But he feels confident so he explains himself further.

 “She was right; if something happens to us then there is—I won’t say nothing standing between Haggar and domination. But losing Voltron would give her a huge advantage. Prioritize the public but look out for each other.”  

 This time the mummer is more positive. He leans closer to Acxa and whispers to her. “It’s all about how you phrase it. Humans like explanations and feelings, they don’t just obey commands like Galra soldiers.”

 Acxa nods and then smugly whispers, “see, you’re a great leader.”

 “So we’ve laid down our priorities and the kind of mission we’ll be on.” Shiro said. “Now for the tough part. We’re going to need a plan.”

 .oOo.

 They scream at her and they beg her. They ask her why she has left them as they burn away in a flash of blinding magenta. The fur on Zethrid’s head falls out in clumps as the UV takes her over. Ezor screams, pleading with Acxa to stop, but her hand is stuck on the lever. She wants to pull it up and off but her arm won’t let her.

Because it is not hers.

 The flesh of her hand is much too purple and her claws are more pronounced. She can’t see them but she knows that her horns jut out much further and more majestically than they ever have. She knows that her eyes lack irises and pupils and that they glow a very vibrant yellow as she watches Ezor cry and melt away.

 “Why are you doing this to us?” Zethrid growls.

 Acxa doesn’t know. Why is she doing this to them? Why can’t she stop?

 The magenta glow intensifies and she is somewhere new entirely with her former companions’ screams still echoing in the distance. She is trapped within a sticky ooze of quintessence. She tries to pull her arm up, but it is still stuck. Even with a fully sculpted and bulky Galra build, she doesn’t have the strength to pull herself out of the mess. It is her turn to scream as the quintessence creeps up her arms, pulsing like the innards of a weblum.

She calls out for Keith but she is alone and she knows that she is alone.

 Keith promised her that she’d never be alone again. She promised that she would never isolate herself again. Yet the quintessence attacked and she hadn’t a companion to help her. She thrashes with as much force as she can, but it seems to only drag her deeper under.

 She cries out again as the goo tightens around her legs and arms. It has reached her stomach now and the weight of it restricts her breathing. She struggles against it but it still manages to get in. It flows into her mouth, clogging her throat and cutting off her cries. Even if she had kept her mouth closed it would have gotten in. She know so because it enters her ears and her nose.

She can’t breathe.

Higher powers, she can’t breathe.

 She squeezes her eyes shut.

 And they burst open. The blankets twisted unpleasantly around her and her hands are clutching the blanket to the point of puncturing small holes with her nails. She still can’t breathe and the panic sets in. It takes her too long to realize that the blanket had wrapped around her neck in sleep. Quickly she claws it off and sucks in generous breaths. She looks at her hands, her un-clawed, lightly tanned hands. She still her.

 Her breathing settles so she gets out of bed and creeps down the hall. She doesn’t mean to be a bother but she needs to remind herself that she isn’t alone. Keith answers the door. “Still having trouble sleeping in your own room?” There is a slightly humored look in his eyes. “Come on.” He beckons her inside, slings an arm over her shoulders, and leads her to his bed.

[imagine-loki]

Monsters and Magic

TITLE: Monsters and Magic

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 22/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a vampire who helps the Avengers defeat an evil seethe of other vampires, and Loki befriends you after you end up in their custody

RATING: T (so far)

NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

      “No, you don’t need to be concerned,” Loki told her firmly before she could keep investigating too closely at your condition. She kept staring at you, though, unconvinced. You tried to ignore her and focus on the beauty around you, especially the rainbow bridge just outside of the chamber you were in, the horses, and the palace in the distance in the golden city. You were in awe of its beauty and very nearly stepped out from the shade of the chamber into the sunlight; it was only Loki’s arm around your shoulders that kept you in place.

    “Not even a little? Because I’m definitely concerned,” Sif replied, still staring at you, as if trying to figure out what was wrong with you. Oh, if only she knew…

    “There’s nothing to worry about, Sif,” Loki reassured her, even as you summoned your parasol and thick black sunglasses. You could tell from here that the sun here was extra bright, and just glittered even worse form the gold of the city.

    Sif just glared at him, eyeing the objects in your hands. “Seriously? An umbrella though it’s not raining? Dark glasses? A cloak in late spring? And her heart isn’t beating? She is not a normal mortal, Loki. What’s going on?” Sif demanded in Asgardian, trying to spare you from her demands. You couldn’t help stiffening a little in reaction to it, though Sif didn’t seem to notice.

    Loki glared at her, knowing perfectly well that you could understand what she was saying. “Sif, enough. You don’t need to know,” he told her firmly, a hint of a growl in his words.

    Sif looked like she was going to argue more, but both boys were glaring at her. “Fine. You two aren’t dumb enough to try to hide whatever this is from the Allfather, are you? I mean you’ve had some stupid plans in the past, but you know he hates deceptions…” she added defensively when the boys continued to glare.

    “This is not something that concerns the Allfather,” Loki growled in reply, glaring at her. “If I feel he needs to know, he will…” You got tired of them grumbling and bickering, especially when Sif already knew that something was up, so you vanished your cloak and stepped out into the sun when Loki was busy grumbling at Sif, so you could show her exactly what was wrong with you and the sun. You didn’t like causing the strife between the boys and one of their friends.

    “Y/N!” Loki exclaimed when he saw you step into the sun. You just stared up at it, confused. It didn’t hurt. It wasn’t blinding you. You grinned in shocked disbelief of feeling the sun on your skin and not pain. Loki grabbed you and hauled you back into the shade. “What in Valahala do you think you’re doing?” he demanded worriedly, looking you over for any sign of sun damage.

    “I was going to show your friend what the hell is wrong with me in the sun so you three could stop bickering over it. But it appears that the sun here doesn’t affect me,” you replied, grumpy at being stopped until your words registered to your own ears. You broke from his grip and darted back out into the sun, vanishing your parasol and glasses as you couldn’t help giggling in delight and spreading your arms wide, spinning on the rainbow bridge in delight in much the same manner as Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music.

    You stopped and looked back at Loki, who was smiling a bit shyly, especially, it seemed, to be showing so much care for you in front of Sif. “At least that’s something we don’t have to worry about hiding from Father,” he said, reassured by that fact and joyed that you didn’t have to hide from the sun here. It was still draining, though it didn’t hurt, didn’t burn, didn’t have any ill effects except making you a little sleepy. Your excitement over seeing the sun properly for the first time in years greatly outweighed any tiredness you felt.

    “He’s still going to notice her heart doesn’t beat,” Sif grumbled, though even she couldn’t help smiling at your joy at the sun.

    “We can hide that with magic…hopefully,” Loki replied as you walked over to the horses to coo at them. He watched you coo and talk nonsense to the war horses, who usually hated everyone, but seemed to like you. There were three men standing over by the horses, you noted, they watched you confused, but didn’t do anything to stop you from talking nonsense to the horsies.

    “And you, the quiet reserved magician, ended up with that ball of sunshine how exactly?” one of the men demanded as they watched you.

    Loki chuckled. “I got lucky,” he replied warmly.

    You turned back to the three of them “Noodle, which one’s yours?” you asked, indicating the horses. Tony’s silly nickname had stuck. Especially when he still kept calling you ‘kitten’.

    “Noodle?” Sif laughed, the men by the horses did too. She looked at Loki, saw his expression, and laughed harder.

    “Sorry, Danger Noodle,” you corrected with a smirk.

    “Darling, must you tease me here?” Loki asked with a scowl, his voice exasperated.

    You went back over to him, leaving the horses behind and kissed him, both in reassurance and apology in case you had really annoyed him. He usually didn’t get too grumpy when you used silly nicknames for him. It was when Stark did it that he got upset. “If I didn’t tease you’d think I don’t love you,” you informed him quite logically.

    He sighed into the kiss. “I know you love me, kitten,” he replied warmly. Then added with a smirk “What’s not to love?”

    “You could stand to lose the massive ego, noodle,” you teased him in reply.

    “You love my ego.” His smirk just got more pronounced.

    You laughed in reply. “Whatever you say, noodle,” you added with an eyeroll. You then decided to get him back on track. “So are we going to stand on the pretty rainbow bridge all day, or are you going to show me the realm whose beauty you’ve been bragging about for months?” you asked with a hint of teasing. He really had been talking about the wonders of Asgard for months. Poor boy was homesick, though he’d never admit it.

    He grinned in reply. “Alright. Come along, kitten. We have much to see a very little time to do it. Plus, I have someone I would like you to meet,” he told you with a fond smile and you couldn’t help lighting up at excitement to meet someone who could put that expression on his face

    Loki led you over to one of the horses a gorgeous sleek black one that you’d had the idea was his. He made introductions of you to the three men who he introduced as ‘Thor’s idiot friends’ and gave their names, but you couldn’t remember them or tell which one belonged to which name. Sif and Thor came over and spoke with the three men and the warriors started commenting about how strange ‘Loki’s little mortal’ was. You rolled your eyes and told them “I can’t possibly be that strange!” Your words were also in Asgardian, a little slow still, but clear enough.

    They all gave Loki an incredulous disbelieving look and demanded: “You taught her our language?” loudly and disbelieving.

    Loki just smiled proudly at her and hugged you around the shoulders.“My beloved has many skills. Including the ability to learn nearly anything you put in front of her. She taught herself our language. From books,” he added when his first revelation shut Sif up to where her mouth was opening and closing in disbelief with no sound coming out.

    He swung up gracefully into the saddle of his horse and offered you a hand. You took it and he easily swung you up onto the horse behind him. “Also I’m not mortal,” you added to Thor’s friends with an innocent grin.

    Loki smirked at their reactions and clicked at his horse. It sped off while Thor and his friends were left behind in stunned silence. You laughed at the sun on your skin and wind in your hair as your arms wrapped around Loki’s waist and he rode straight to the palace. He dismounted when hostlers came to take his horse around to the stables and helped you down. You could have done it yourself, had you not been wearing a floor-length dress. You thanked him for helping you and straightened out your dress again.

    Loki offered you his arm and you placed your hand on it lightly, staring around in awe as he led you through the halls of the palace. He explained interesting sights along the way and nodded a polite greeting to people who bowed or curtsied to him as he walked. He clearly had a destination.

    “Loki! I wasn’t expecting you home!” A woman exclaimed as you enter what Loki called the healing wing. She jumped up to and ran over to the doorway, which you barely made it through, to hug him. You stayed back a couple steps, feeling like an intruder on their private moment.

    “It is wonderful to see you again, Mother.” Loki returned her hug with a warm smile and kissed her cheek. So this was his beloved mama. He released Frigga and turns to introduce you. “Mother, I wanted you to meet my beloved, Y/N of Midgard. Darling, this is my mother, Frigga, queen of Asgard,” that part was unnecessary of course. You knew who she was as soon as he said ‘mother’. However, you dipped a curtsy and gave her a polite greeting, though you were awkward and shy around the queen of an entire realm.

    After the pleasantries were exchanged, she turned back to Loki suspiciously “You’re home suddenly, darling, did you upset your father again?” she asked him firmly, but with such a polite gentle caringness that even Loki couldn’t be upset.

    “Mother,” he replied with an exasperated sigh and an eyeroll, though not as dramatic of one as usual in front of his mother. “We… recently discovered something interesting about myself that I thought would never happen…” he trailed off, trying to find the proper words.

    “Besides that you finally found a lady worthy of your attention?” Frigga teased him with a mischievous smirk. You could clearly see where he got his mischief from.

    He chuckled in reply. “Besides that I finally found someone who loves me for who I am. It’s slightly more important…” he trailed off again.

    “I highly doubt there’s anything more important than that, darling, but what is this interesting discovery?” she prompted gently, with the tone of a mother urging the truth out of her son.

    Loki sighed and tried again “It turns out… I might actually… be worthy… for once in my life…” He tried as if that would clearly explain the concept he was trying to get across to her.

    You sighed in exasperation and decided to jump in and help him out, but first “Stubborn noodle,” you grumbled under your breath. You raised your voice to address Frigga, keeping your tone carefully polite “He lifted Mjolnir,” you explained in blunt terms, since Loki seemed incapable of doing it himself.

    Loki turned to you with a look that was a mix of actual gratitude covered in sarcasm and snark. “Thanks, kitten. I was getting to that,” he grumped, though he was pleased that you thought enough about him to help him out.

    Frigga reached up and cupped Loki’s cheek, smiling warmly. “I have always known you were worthy, my darling, you just had to convince yourself,” her voice is so warm and caring that Loki smiles fondly at her, relaxing at her acceptance of his news. Frigga leaned up once he was relaxed whisper in his ear in Asgardian. You moved away to investigate the soulforge, accepting the whisper and change in language for the request for privacy that it was and pretended that you couldn’t hear her words or understand them. “Darling, did you bring your lady to me for healing?” Frigga asked Loki, her voice full of concern. She didn’t know you spoke their language either.

    “The offer is appreciated, Mother,” he replied in the same language, his voice soft, since he knew you could hear and understand. “She was captured and tortured and you are a far stronger mind healer than I am. I would appreciate your assistance,” he glanced over at where you were investigating the soulforge and other healing technology, for all the world the polite tourist.

    Frigga tried extremely hard not to roll her eyes. She failed, miserably. Her next words were extremely dry and you knew exactly where Loki gained his sense of humor and dry sarcasm. “Darling, have you failed to notice that her heart does not beat? That tends to be quite the fatal condition for Midgardians if left untreated…”

[zendallkiner]

When you realize you can no longer make yourself happy

What do you do? This is a question I've frantically been striving to answer over the last few months. One morning I awoke from a haze that has fallen upon my life for the last few months only to realize what I had been doing was no longer working. The exercising that I had come to rely upon as my main form of stress relief was failing. Cooking had lost its charm making me dread thinking of going to the market much less actually being there. This left me hungry although no appetite and becoming complacent with this new reality. Reading became less if a way to enter new worlds and more of a dull activity. Honestly, the only thing I found comfort in was the dust-laden concrete floor of my room with the fan blowing in my face and the frequent yet unpredictable visits from my two year old brother. This is something that slowly became my life. Quietly, without word it took over my thoughts, my body and my emotions leaving me utterly exhausted after a day of laying around. The morning I took notice of the haze, I awoke around 10am with tears flowing for no apparent reason and still longing to be asleep. This is when something within me registered as not right. A feeling of dread overcame me when I started to realize this was not my normal although I had allowed it to be. When thinking about who I am, this picture of myself shifting from side to side on the floor day after day is not it. Rather, I imagine myself to be interesting, engaged, optimistic. When I think of who I am and who I want to be it's somebody excited to talk to others and hear about what's going on in their lives. I picture myself eager to learn and willing to try new activities. I'm emotional because that's how I've always been in leading with my heart making me want to talk about challenges people face as well as the moments of happiness that arise amidst it all. When I registered that this idea of myself no longer existed, the fear took hold. I understood something was wrong and I could no longer fix it alone. Reaching out about mental health issues is much easier said than done in my case. To reach out was to accept that I was no longer able to do something for myself that I've been doing for years. I was no longer able to make myself happy, to pull myself out of the dark places I had fallen to. Reaching out was to recognize that I had a problem and in doing so was to share it with another individual, leaving me vulnerable and at risk for judgement. To me, it felt like I would become a burden to my friends because I stopped caring to hear what was going on with them. All that mattered was what was going on in my mind and my heart. That morning, I finally made the decision to figure this out. How could I figure out what's been causing this if I didn't notice it's presence until once in the thick of it? While I had no answer to this I reached out to my doctor anyways. I had described to them the state of being I had become accustomed to and was later connected to a therapist. My whole life, I've been surrounded by those experiencing depression. It's incredibly sad to see this and know that I've also fallen subject to it as well. Over the years, I've told some of those individuals under its spell to try therapy although never experiencing it myself. Having an outside objective listener to understand and provide another perspective that could offer clarity sounded like a good idea. Some people were receptive to this suggestion while others were more resistant. When met with such resistance I often became frustrated because to me it seemed like a logical step in the right direction to finding a solution. Here I am now and feeling much more resistant than I imagined would ever feel in this situation. Friday morning rolled around to which my first intake appointment was scheduled for 10am via a telephone call. Sitting in my room with the door shut, the nerves and regret overcame me. Thinking to myself that today felt different, I actually felt a little better and maybe I no longer needed this. Maybe I misjudged the situation and really could handle it on my own. After the first 5-minute confidentiality part of the session we dove right in. Her first question being "why don't you tell me in your own words what's going on." To which I responded with tears. Choking through my answer not being able to justify where any of this was coming from. Trying to explain a feeling that just didn't seem logical was challenging and frustrating. I described the lethargy and lack of interest in all things that I love where she probed a little further to gain a greater glimpse of the overall picture at hand. By the end of the phone call, I had admitted to a lot of things I didn't realize I was feeling. Admitting to feeling like a failure, feeling overcome by depression, feeling bad about myself as a whole on most days and lacking any desire to reach out to friends and family alike. Before this discussion, many of my feelings were not put into certain categories as such. Rather, it just became this stagnant state of being so when hearing her ask these questions only to find myself responding with either "more than half of the days" or "most days" was truly devastating. They say when you have a problem, the first step is admitting it. It wasn't until I heard myself admitting these things to a stranger over the phone while sobbing on my dusty concrete floor that I understood how bad it had gotten. Recognizing this gave me the sense of agency to try to fix it or at the very least put a plan in place to start the process. Mental health is similar to physical health in that it must be made a priority. It must be actively worked on in order to get to a good place. It's a process that takes a lifetime of practice. As that practice is deepened and better understood, the experience might be a little happier accompanied by a more frequent positive mindset. But the mind and person are always subject to lulls and the quiet voice of negativity. We all experience it on some level, whether it's something we're willing to admit or not. While I've only started this process of healing two weeks ago, having a plan in place has helped. Understanding this will not happen overnight to get back to feeling like myself but that it will happen eventually so long as I stay committed, is what gives me hope. Truthfully, this is something I've felt embarrassed and quite shameful for letting it get this bad but after having my second session with the therapist, I am trying to relieve the self-imposed pressure. During this second session, she gave me a few writing activities to try as a way to organize my thoughts. A way to decipher between the facts and the feelings, coming to a more logical conclusion to certain situations or people making me feel some type of way. When doing this, she kindly reminded me to refrain from posing any judgement onto myself. I chuckled and thought that this was a silly reminder until I embarked on my first exercise when I found my inner critic to reveal itself in the most harshest of ways. As writing, I felt embarrassed for being angry and upset about these various circumstances I thought I had dealt with. Truly expressing how I feel and physically writing such thoughts down brings to life what is hiding in some of the darkest parts of my mind. To address them is to diminish the power they clearly hold in my life, but doing so non-judgementally is all a part of the process. This is what has caused me to share my process today. In an attempt to use writing, something I utterly adore, as a vehicle to unabashedly demonstrate that I'm human and as such I am not perfect. Humans have darkness looming in parts of us we never would like to give recognition to for fear of self-imposed judgment coupled with that of spectators. Others may critique who I am and how I feel as being unwarranted but as I've found myself to be the harshest critic of all, I think I can deal with the rest. As I've been trying to navigate through the negative, one positive guiding force has been yoga. I'll leave you with what my favorite instructor likes to recite during her class. You are worthy. You are strong. You are loved. You belong.