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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

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I’ve been trying to figure out the best obi wan ship. They all have one slightly problematic thing this way or that. I’ve landed on the idea of obi wan and an equal is pretty top tier. But then I saw a picture of Coran from voltron. Coran and Obiwan might be a disaster but also both are dad shaped, both are bad ass, both are ginger, both have an accent. I think it could work. But another part of me is like Coran is just obi and jarjar mashed together. At the very least they hooked up.

Hey I just had restaurant ramen and Starbucks and actually feel like a human being so let's do something unnecessary but funny. I'm taking this as a challenge, anon.

Also IMO Coran has more in common with C3P0 than with JarJar

So obviously, both of these happen in Big Space, but the difference appears to be density. We see about the same complexity of culture and species interactions, but Voltron covers more galaxies. It's vaguely implied that Earth, at least, is the only planet with sapient life in the Milky Way.

I think the way I want to play this out, culturally, is that the Voltron area of the universe covers a much wider, but much more sparsely populated area, while the SW-verse is just the one very densely populated (in part because apparently humans just went Literally Everywhere) galaxy, where they didn't necessarily bother with developing the tech to go to other galaxies (except Rishi, which only sort of counts) because they haven't really even charted out their own yet. It was never contacted by the Voltron side of things because [checks notecards full of excuses] it's really far away from Altea and all that, and the Force shielded the galaxy from Galra interests because Reasons.

All this to say that the two franchises didn't interact until after the Voltron plotline was already over. We'll say it went mostly canon, except Allura survived because uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck that.

We'll say that this is mid-TCW, you know, before Obi-Wan is a bundle of repressed traumas and bad coping mechanisms that's lost almost everyone he's ever loved to the dark side through death or corruption. He's still (mostly) okay! Anakin's not dark (or at least, not as dark as he could be; Obi-Wan doesn't know about the Tuskens), and Ahsoka's still in good standing and most people are alive and--and okay the army is a massive ethical violation he hates with his very soul and he misses Qui-Gon and Anakin's keeping secrets and pulling away from him every day but He's Fine, Guys.

He's Fine.

In comes a ship from not Wild Space, but beyond that. Intergalactic visitors, from the direction of the deeply concerning Force bullshit they felt a few years ago. Translation tech is decent enough on both sides that they get to talking pretty quickly. The explorer is actually a member of the Blade of Marmora, who gets the absolute most basic info (approximately this many inhabited planets, approximately this many trillions of sapients in the recorded galaxy, basic structure of the government for the past however many years, most recent conflict, etc.)

BoM person is like "cool, okay so you guys are really well set-up so I'm just gonna head back and kick this up a few rungs of the coalition ladder because this is way above my paygrade, I'll make sure you get some diplomats who can maybe help out with the whole galactic civil war situation as neutral parties."

The Voltron Coalition does send a diplomat! They, uh, also send Coran, who isn't technically a diplomat, but he's high-level.

The thing is, okay, that Coran is mostly just... passably competent at things. He's a jack of all trades, master of none type. He knows a lot of things, actually, but his practical knowledge in high pressure situations tends to be up in the air. He knows how to fix the Castle Ship and various technologies, but all of that info is ten thousand years out of date. He was a competent fighter at one point but these days his back gives out. He's very knowledgeable regarding intergalactic politics but, again, that information is ten thousand years out of date. He's also a little prone to social gaffs in dicey situations (e.g. the inciting incident in the Voltron Show episode where he misses the single day with clear skies), but puts in so much goddamn effort to make things happen.

In this manner, he's like a warped mirror of what Obi-Wan is and could be.

THAT SAID

Coran is actually really good with teenagers, and specifically with training them.

And Obi-Wan... isn't.

Obi-Wan's snarky and snippy and sassy, and he's decent enough at teaching and he's great at being a jokey friend and all, but he's not necessarily very good at emotions. And unfortunately for Obi-Wan, the teenagers he spends the most time with are Really Full Of Emotions. He tries, bless him, but he's just... he doesn't respond well to emotional conversations at the best of times.

His son-figure saying "You're like a father to me" leads to a response of... radio silence. Guys. That's not the mark of a man who knows how to talk about his feelings with the people he cares about.

In swans Coran with the various other diplomatic envoys of the visiting extragalactic community. The entire situation is really leading to a lull in the war because nobody wants to risk pissing off this clearly well-funded, well-powered third party. As a result, many of the High Generals can interact with the envoys, even if they spend quite a bit of time eyeing the Separatist representatives on the other side of the room, because clearly Everyone Needs A Seat At This Table.

It's a very tense situation.

Obviously, Coran is exactly the weird uncle that goes around telling plausibly-exaggerated stories about Weblums and Yalmors and Balmeras. I'm going to say at least one former Paladin is there, maybe Hunk. Hunk's fun, and also very willing to help Coran make friends and seem Amicable instead of Distant by correcting some of the exaggerations. There's a nice, calm atmosphere in a bubble around Coran and his nonsense, and it's a weird situation but arguably just... you know. It's good. He's good at making people feel safe around him.

Cue the hissed argument between Skywalker and Kenobi. The actual cause of said argument isn't important, just the fact that, in a dark corner where they're less likely to cause a PR issue, Anakin and Obi-Wan are having it out. Anakin's maybe twenty, still a lanky ragebaby, all that fun stuff. Obi-Wan is a the endpoint of every too-young brotherdad. He's thirty-six but feels like he's sixty-three. He's tired, but trying so damn hard to still connect with Anakin and just--just--

Obi-Wan gives himself a few minutes to calm down before following Anakin. He doesn't even remember what they were arguing about, really, but he has to mend the bridge before it frays even more than it already has. If Anakin goes to Palpatine for advice again, he's going to... do something. Obi-Wan isn't sure what, but he just has to fix this.

What he finds is... well, Anakin did end up going to vent to a man of an earlier generation who acts like a slightly eccentric older relative, but it's not Palpatine for once.

The goofy, slightly abrasive but mostly charming, brightly-colored representative of the Voltron Coalition is standing in the little balcony that Anakin's made it to, listening as Obi-Wan's recently-knighted padawan vents. The man nods and makes noises at the appropriate times, and then asks questions that are... maybe a little too accurate.

"You said that you view him as a father, that he raised you after you left your mother."

"Well, yeah, but he doesn't think I'm ready, or--"

"No parent ever does."

"...my mom thought I was ready to become a Jedi."

"I can't speak for your mother," the representative says, "but the princess of my people, Allura... I half-raised that girl from the beginning, and after the destruction of Altea, we were all the other had left. I watched her lead battles and bring life to planets, trying to rebuild a universe out of the ashes of what we'd left behind... I saw the evidence with my own eyes, and I still, every time, I worried for her."

"Why?"

"I worried that she'd be hurt, that she wasn't ready, that she'd make a decision she regretted. Often, she did, and I had to help her back up, and while she's always come back, stronger than before... she is the closest thing I have ever had to a daughter, and I will always worry for her. Every parent does. Do you think, perhaps, that your own Jedi Master, that you consider a father, may worry because he looks at you like a son? That it's not that he doesn't trust you, but that he doesn't trust the world around you?"

Obi-Wan feels his heart in his throat.

The conversation continues in that vein. While Obi-Wan can't say he likes the fact that this stranger is putting words in his mouth, if only as hypotheticals, he can't deny that there's a part of him that relaxes as Anakin does, as every frustrated fresh-knight question gets a measured elderly-steward response that's angled to consider the interpretation that favors Anakin and Obi-Wan in equal measure. Every word encourages Anakin to talk things out and lay boundaries and express his frustrations to Obi-Wan in the plainest words possible.

There's a story in there, more than one. The representative tends to go off on tangents, ones that Anakin sometimes finds interesting and sometimes just resigns himself to. Mostly, though, it goes well, and Obi-Wan... well, he's always been 'a nosy little bastard,' according to quite a few people.

(In his defense, the terms they'd used about Quinlan's 'investigative personality' had been quite a bit stronger.)

He eavesdrops to the end, and Anakin doesn't notice at all. Obi-Wan's not sure if he should try to address Anakin's lack of awareness of the world around him. He's not technically Anakin's master anymore. The comment may be taken as a criticism of his worth and capability, rather than a sincere desire to see his padawan not die.

He approaches the representative instead. He intends to introduce himself. Instead, the first words that tumble out of his mouth are:

"How do you do it?"

The man--older than he looks from a distance, more wrinkles than the bright hair would suggest, but not quite elderly yet--turns and lifts a brow. "Hm?"

"I'm sorry, I'm--" Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. The young man you were just talking to is my former padawan, er, my former apprentice. I've been finding it harder and harder to speak with him over the past few years, and it seems that every interaction we have leads to an argument. How do you... manage that? I can't get him to listen to me at all."

"Ah, teenagers," the man sighs.

"He's twenty."

The representative pauses, and turns to him. "Are you the one he says raised him? The father?"

"Well... yes, I suppose that's one way to phrase it," Obi-Wan says, eyes darting to the side. He doesn't know how to explain the whole attachment situation to someone who barely knows what a Jedi is. He has even less of an idea of how to explain his own broken ability to speak of emotion, the parts of his mind that Bant clucks over and attributes to his own complicated relationship with Qui-Gon. "I had custody as his primary guardian from ages nine to nineteen and was the primary individual for handling his schooling, health, and general upbringing."

"That sounds to me like a very convoluted way of saying you were his father in all but name."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm not exactly old enough to be his father, and I wasn't exactly the person he was supposed to learn from; I was the... back-up option."

"It seems he cares for you very much."

"He didn't have much of a choice," Obi-Wan says, with the kind of helpless smile and awkward shrug he's long gotten used to sharing with people when they ask. "And I assure you he'd have been happier with the man that was meant to teach him."

"I'd say that the 'would have' in this situation is much less important than what is," the representative says. Obi-Wan probably should have paid more attention to his name. "I wasn't in a position to define my relation to Allura or her father in the way that truly suited our situation, by... oh, tradition, social norms, public relations, take your pick. I was a very well-regarded official, of course, but I wasn't royalty, not even nobility, and I certainly wasn't wasn't legally or publicly part of the family. But for all the limitations there, I was still able to find ways to tell her and her family what they meant to me, and they in return. Your apprentice cares for you very much, and I'm sure you care back, but I'd hazard quite the guess that you've no idea how to tell him that."

"I... I shouldn't," Obi-Wan says. "I'm fond of him, of course, but I've no wish to smother him, and to simply say it would be undignified. I imagine he'd laugh in my face."

The representative raises one eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink.

"Master Kenobi," he says carefully. "Might I suggest you go find your young man, tell him you love him, and perhaps give him a hug?"

Obi-Wan's face flares red. It's been years since anyone short of Yoda has spoken to him like that.

"I'm not a child," he sniffs, trying to angle enough away that the blush isn't as noticeable. He's damnably prone to such things. "You're not that much older than me."

The man laughs, and Obi-Wan lifts his glass to his lips in a futile attempt to hid the embarrassment a little more. "Oh, not counting the stasis, I've well reached the age of six hundred and twenty-four, my boy!"

Obi-Wan chokes on his drink.

The man laughs a little more, but thumps him on the back until he's breathing normally again.

"Yes, most of the humans I've told have had quite the reaction!" the representative assures him. "But yes, even with the times adjusted to what any given local year is, I am significantly longer-lived than most species."

"No kidding," Obi-Wan manages. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and looks over at the representative. He takes in the wrinkles and bright eyes, and says, "Well, I must say you look very well for a near-human of such an age. I can only name one person in that category that has managed better, and I haven't seen her since I was a child."

"I shall take that as the compliment it's intended to be," the representative says, twisting the edge of his mustache and beaming.

The man is... well, goofy, really, and quite a bit older than Obi-Wan had thought, but he's quite the charmer. Obi-Wan faintly compares him to a few different people in the back of his mind, but nothing quite fits. For all that the man is quite the jokester and--going by some things he'd seen from the corner of his eye in the main party--a master of physical comedy, the representative is actually more competent than he looks, and for all his visible age, not bad to look at. He is also, seemingly, an expert in dealing with teenagers and young adults, something Obi-Wan himself is... decidedly not.

He really should go speak with Anakin.

And there's a war to fight.

He doesn't really have much time, even with the recent lull.

He's in no place to be looking at the clean-shaven jaw and wondering what it would feel like under his lips, or to let himself consider whether this man would be the kind to have an hours-long discussion as to the narrative forms common in other galaxies, and whether they have anything paralleled to those in Obi-Wan's own, or if this man would show the same enthusiasm over teas that he'd shown over the hors d'oeuvres inside.

He should... really go find Anakin.

"I suppose it's time to find my padawan," he says, more to fill the air than anything. "Er... thank you, both for speaking with him, and for speaking with me."

"Not a problem at all, Master Kenobi!" the representative says, and Obi-Wan realizes that there's one last thing he may have... forgotten.

"This is terribly embarrassing, but I don't believe I caught your name?" Obi-Wan says.

"Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, at your service!" the man says, with a sweeping bow. "As you can imagine, most simply call me Coran."

"Then I insist you call me Obi-Wan," he says, and before he can stop himself, "Might I bother you with an invitation to a shared tea time? You seem a knowledgeable fellow, and I'd appreciate the chance to... eh, pick your brain, shall we say."

It's not the smoothest come on he's ever put out there, or the most easily interpreted, but... well. Perhaps it's for the best. He's rather often found his tastes going in irresponsible directions, and it'll be much easier to brush this off without diplomatic incident if there's room for Coran to politely ignore the less platonic options.

Obi-Wan hopes he doesn't.

It's very selfish of him, but a dalliance with an older gentleman... well. He does, perhaps, make such irresponsible decisions, even now.

"I do believe I'd enjoy such a thing!" Coran enthuses, grabbing Obi-Wan's hand and shaking it in large, effusive movements.

Oh, this is a terrible idea, Obi-Wan thinks, even as he exchanges comm numbers and says goodbye.

Still.

He likes the idea of having at least a little fun, sedate or less so, while they have some time to themselves.

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Coran Smythe #Coran #coran hieronymus wimbleton smythe #anakin skywalker #Star Wars #Voltron #crossovers #Phoenix Posts #Phoenix Answers Asks #parenting

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gch1995 · 3 years ago

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Luke was not macho in the sequel trilogy

Maybe, not. However, his entire arc was ruined of realizing that the Sith were evil with their whole thing of galactic conquest via mass murder, but that the Jedi Order’s practices of no close attachments and “conceal, don’t feel” were also incredibly unhealthy mindsets, too. Not to mention the fact that he almost killed his nephew, rather than trying to talk to him.

After Obi Wan and Yoda die, and Luke takes over as head of the Jedi Council to reform the system in episode VI, we’re left with the sense that the new generation of Jedi has fixed the past generation’s flaws in the system. If Leia and Han’s kid ends up going down the same road as his grandfather Anakin Skywalker, partially because the current system of the Jedi Order failed him, too, and partially because they emotionally neglected him when he was growing up, then aren’t they just contributing to recreating all the same mistakes that the OT and PT series set to point out was wrong and ultimately fix?

Also, the fact that it’s so easy for Obi Wan to break the order’s rules in TCW by having a missed opportunity love interest he gave up for the order, only for him to intensely criticize Anakin for getting married to Padmé in secret with no empathy for his situation at all, annoys me. Like, first off, he never needed a love interest to be a relatable male character in the PT or OT series. The tragedy of his character was that he wanted to break the rules that he knew were bullshit in the system for the Jedi because he grew to love Anakin as a brother, but very rarely, if ever, did, because he’d been brainwashed by them, too.

Everything they did to Anakin’s characterization in TCW annoys me. Like, he was an awkward and emotionally unstable young man with fluctuating self-worth in the PT series. That doesn’t mean he’s entirely innocent for the crimes he chose to commit, or that the Jedi deserved what he did to them. He knew what he was doing was wrong, and he deserved punishment for those crimes. Not to have all his limbs cut off by Obi Wan, left to burn alive, operated on awake without anesthetics, and forced to be Palpatine’s slave, but like a more humane and swift death penalty or long term/lifelong imprisonment in a jail or prison cell. Even if it was harder to do, Anakin should have made the choice to leave the order for the well-being of himself, his family, and the entire galaxy when he was an adult.

However, I don’t like the fact that TCW flanderdized Anakin’s possessive side, made him into this calm, cool, collected, and suave macho antihero™️, and took away most of his completely valid personal issues with the Jedi Order. It undermines the tragedy of his story by making it seem like his fall was more inevitable because he was always just this inherently bad person all along, whereas in the PT movies, it’s more sympathetic because he’s clearly this deeply traumatized boy/young man who’s fall could have been prevented at any time, not just by himself, but the entire Jedi Council, and Padme. Instead, both Anakin and those closest to him often pretended like he was okay and/or that he would get better if they believed he would until it was too late in the PT movies.

I don’t like how they made Padme into a strong woman™️ Yeah, she was naive about Anakin in her love for him, and she enabled him a bit too easily in AOTC. However, that didn’t mean she deserved what he did to her in the end. She also wasn’t a manipulative or two-faced bitch. She was caring, kindhearted, and optimistic.

I consider the first six live action movies of Star Wars canon for the SW universe, but everything else is EU.

#ask #anon ask #anti tcw #anti sw sequels #luke skywalker #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #padme amidala

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helbertinelli · 4 years ago

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since she grew up a temple kid. It provided a common ground and a similarity that I don't feel like Anakin ever had in the movies with the other Jedi. It really does seem like to them Anakin is just... on an entirely different spectrum they understand. If there were temple raised kids who were as connected to people and emotions as Anakin was I think they'd be better equipped to help put him at ease and not react like Anakins being unreasonable when he speaks up against things he doesn't agree

Oh oops, I didn’t realize this was a multi-part ask when I answered it, so I’m going to add all the parts here for continuity’s sake:

Just gotta say, the number one WORST thing about TCW is how much they aged Anakin. He was a BABY, not just baby-faced, but a barely-even-an-adult GENERAL for a fucking galactic army of slaves. Such a big part of Anakin's tragedy is how young he is. How much all of that responsibility, stress, PTSD, emotional disconnection, etc weighs him down. I... really dislike how they made him look so weary in show, because Anakins so used to and so good at hiding everything behind a façade. Being so young (1/4)

and being the face of the Republic is.. so important in his break down and how it was so easy for the people closest to him (like Obi Wan) to truly believe he was just as fine as he claimed he was. Also one of the things I have against Ahsoka purely as a character that was even developed, is that... She takes away from from the isolation and alienation Anakin had felt around the other Jedi. Even though she left and it was due to betrayal from the Jedi... She was far too like Anakin especially (2/4)

with. And they'd be far better at keeping him "in line" and have him respect and listen and obey the rules of the order. Instead of, you know, everything he does in canon pretty much (which is also why I don't think Obi Wan knows about Anakin/Padme until the very end or that he ever had a real romantic relationship with anyone. There's just some kind of emotional comprehension/knowledge Obi Wan lacks when it comes to Anakins feelings for Padme), (4/4)

Yeah, I agree with this. Ahsoka was in many ways a plot hole to SW. Anakin being given a Padawan is really weird given how little the Council trusted him in AOTC and ROTS. I doubt they would have given him the responsibility of training a Padawan. Ahsoka existing in Anakin’s life came at odds with how Anakin’s relationship with the Jedi Order was portrayed. I feel like she would have been way better if she was the Padawan of Obi-Wan or of another Jedi.

I remember GL saying that he made Ahsoka so that people could relate more to Anakin and show that Anakin matured, but I don’t think that him looking after a child and training a Padawan made him more relatable. Him being out of place and trying to fit in, him not knowing how to deal with his feelings, him being so close to having a good life and then that life slipping through his fingers, him dealing with all of his pain and all of his loss, and him falling in love and loving Padme more than anything in the world make him more relatable than being a Jedi master to a Padawan.

We didn’t really need Ahsoka as proof that Anakin matured between AOTC and ROTS. We already had Anakin getting married, Anakin losing his arm, and a whole war starting where Anakin had to watch a lot of people die and a lot of lives lost to understand why Anakin is different than in AOTC. I never felt like there was an unexplained discrepancy between how Anakin acts in AOTC and how he acts in ROTS. It all seemed to flow naturally if you just watch the story.

Anakin in TCW seems to feel at home with the rest of the Jedi Order, he is actually shown to be more comfortable and happier with other Jedi than he is with Padme. It’s rare (if ever) in TCW when Anakin is challenged by or goes against another Jedi (Barriss doesn’t count because she was a villain), but he fights with Padme a lot (a lot for their relationship where they almost never fight). He seems to be accepted and well-liked by the Jedi Order and the Council and he seems to be mistrusted and doubted and viewed as a burden by Padme. Which is the opposite of how those two relationships are supposed to go.

And honestly, I’m starting to see why people say that was a different character in TCW, because 1. We only see the part of Anakin that’s the war general, and we only rarely see the part of Anakin that’s Padme’s husband and 2. His established relationships with other characters are changed, and because of that Anakin himself doesn’t appear to be the same character anymore.

#anidala #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #anti tcw #i don't know if there were other asks you've sent #these were the only ones I have received #meta #Anonymous #ask

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thisbluespirit · 3 years ago

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Fic Writer Tag Game

I was tagged to do this by @allegoriesinmediasres but it had already gone round Dreamwidth this last week, so I did it there. I’ll try and c+p it over here, too!

1) How many works do you have on AO3? 620 (but I've been writing a lot of short things since around 2006-7, and there might even still be a couple of the 1994-98 fic from the newsgroups up). 2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 1,476,147 (but this does include about 300,000 words of origfic for RaTs and rainbowfic that are collected into three works, so it doesn't affect the works no too much, but it does affect the wordcount.) 3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? Too many to list here! A lot. *nods* 4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos? People, it's still Miss Marple. Maybe one day it won't be Miss Marple, but today is not that day. (ETA: whenever i do my top AO3 fic on these memes, it’s disproportionately Miss Marple. I am bemused.) Miss Marple: The Spirit of St Mary Mead So We Meet at Last Not Miss Marple: it's the rain that will strengthen your soul (SW Prequels) Five Times the Doctor Got in the Way of Captain Janeway (and One Time They Got Along Just Fine) (DW/ST) By the Book (Origfic) (Oh, wow, By the Book keeps moving up. It must get recced sometimes, somewhere, mustn't it? 0_o ♥) 5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Yes. Fanfic is a lot my way of being social, which is why I don't get along with the new push-button web much. Like, kudos is fine, ok, but I just wanted to talk to people, and via fic always seems to be one of the nicest ways to do it. 6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Oh, I don't know. I like being bleak sometimes when I feel like it. It might be the EatD one with the two Generals, but honestly there were a few in my mid-illness old bleak telly watching years, and the Level 7 one or the one from Children of the Damned might be even more so? Or some S&S stuff, too? I mean, I wrote S&S plane crash fic and weird drabbles. (I blame my fandoms! It's not my fault! *innocent*) Also I keep doing Clara splinter fic, so I keep killing Clara and it's always sadder than I expect when I get there. You'd think I'd learn by now, or just not kill this splinter, but, nooo, hey, how about MORE Clara splinter death, self? /o\ Oh, no, wait: it's probably Spooks! Spooks is also bleak and how about my tiny ficlet of death, Litany of the Fallen? Oh, actually, if I listen to people who aren't me, it's that B7 Avon/Servalan one, which I was always a bit: BUT I WROTE ONE WHERE THEY WON about it and everyone else was all THIS IS THE WORST in the comments. Sorry? The Quality of Mercy (Is Most Definitely Strained) (I still think the ending of Compendium is more angsty! It has double death!) (Ok, it's me. I like being bleak and angsty when I'm doing it. I'm less sure when someone else is doing it at me, of course. ;-p) 7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? I honestly don't know. I'm usually kind of gen and happy and sometimes even humorous, and keep canon's tone, and DW is fairly light most of the time. I tried searching on Happy, but I have never tagged anything as happy. But probably it is an AAL! thing, because AAL! is happiness in b&w TV form basically. Maybe of Of Human Bondage (or Five Times Adam and His Friends Found Themselves All Tied Up)? But I like all the AAL! ones I wrote for Yuletide, because they were the ones where I tried to be closest to an episode, and that makes them the most fun to re-read. 8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written? I have a crossover in my top 5, so yes. I'm a DW fan; crossovers are just far too obvious a temptation when you've got a TARDIS. What DW fic writer hasn't managed at least one once somewhere? And I might have, um, written a lot of them. (AO3 says 126). I did once, way back in newsnet times, when we were having a debate over what you could and couldn't cross DW over with (and I was on Team You Can Cross It With Anything You Cowards), write a DW/Rainbow drabble. But I don't think I put that on AO3. I think it might be on Teaspoon. In AO3 works, I think by far the silliest is the Baldrick/Steed one, which AstroGirl said I couldn't write. (It was an Unconventional Courtship summary, not that they randomly dared me to write Baldrick/Steed. I mean, some of my flist totally would have done if they'd thought of it, but not in this case.) 9) Have you ever received hate on a fic? Not really. I've had some weird comments, but the nearest I've come to hate was one of the comments that time I tried to write Swan Queen fic and it wasn't happy enough for people. (I wrote a happy one after, but the ifrst one was set quite early, Regina was still kind of evil!) 10) Do you write smut? If so what kind? Alas, no. Although, ish, if we count my experimental elemental shipping phase, which included The Cornfield (Silver/Steel/(Sapphire)), which is the only time anyone called any of my fic sexy. I would totally have that comment made into a medal or something. 11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? Other than the random scraping things that have gone round over the years, no. 12) Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! Several people have been kind enough to do this, usually into Russian, and usually (but not always!) Miss Marple. 13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, and no - in adwc days we all co-authored round robins, which were a blast and highly frustrating. I think it'd be fun, but barring the odd bit of drabble tennis with various flisters back in the day, it's not really something that's worked out. (I'm thinking, I could have all the ideas, they could do all the writing, I could criticise?? XD) 14) What’s your all time favorite ship? My Relationships count is very misleading here, because I think it actually is (including in terms of things written for it), Sapphire/Silver/Steel, but it's a weird thing, so sometimes I tag it platonically, and sometimes I don't necessarily tag it at all for that reason, and also I think it puts people off unnecessarily. (But it's a Lie when I don't tag it. All my Sapphire & Silver & Steel is inherently OT3 even if no one else can see it.) 15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? None. I have unposted WIPs, but I do hope to finish those, and the only posted WIP is a very old one only on Teaspoon that was begun before I was ill and I can't even really say at this point that I would want to finish it. 16) What are your writing strengths? Character/dialogue, I think? I am actually not that bad at plot, but currently I lack the stamina for long things. I like to think I can be quite funny when I'm in the mood. 17) What are your writing weaknesses? Description, action. Argh. Yes, let's just talk some more, okay? 18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I was going to say I would never, but actually I did! I wrote Y Gwyll | Hinterland fic, and it wouldn't be right not to have some Welsh in that. However, while I may be a 1/4 Welsh and know some Welsh words, I don't actually speak it, so I had to turn to Llywela who was very kind and translated the sentences I needed. (I added the English translation in the footnote.) This was the fic, but basically language is important in canon (ironically maybe even more so in the Eng-lang version I watched than the original Welsh), and so it was also important in the fic. So, probably if it was a canon where it was required, then I would do what I could to get help to get it right? The good thing about the internet is that you can usually find someone, although usefully for me, I already knew someone. 19) What was the first fandom you wrote for? Doctor Who! 20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? I'm going to wimp out on this along with everyone else. Although... if any of you have a fave fic of mine, that would be very cool to hear! (But I don't expect anyone to.) Sometimes I'm pleased enough with the latest to feel it's that, but that's not always the case, and it isn't currently. (No, offence, Latest Works! I like you, it just only happens once in a while, usually when I've managed something I've wanted to do for years.)

I won’t tag anyone, because I know lots of people also did this on Dreamwidth, but it’s always VERY cool to see people’s answers to these things and memes are for stealing.

#fanfic #writing #memes #writing meme #ao3 #fannish nonsense #long post #rambling about fic #replies #allegoriesinmediasres #the c+p worked even with the links!#\o/

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zeawesomebirdie · 3 years ago

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I'm back! With the time it took me to get around to writing an answer I feel like this is a letter correspondence :')) (I certainly hope this asks finds you well). All of this to say, I may not have read your recs yet, my brains makes decisions on its own and reading them hasn't been one of them, sadly, but the tabs are open in my browser and the names have been written down on my ever-growing list of books that sound super cool, so thank you! I get the fic length thing, and I would say a lot of the fandom actually seems to lean that way? I've read quite a lot of Kylux and Obikin now and there honestly seems to be a bigger proportion of fics on the shorter side compared to like, Harry Potter (which could be me not actually making the maths and just vaguely estimating and being biased, or also due to the fact that HP happens on a way shorter scale with way less elements that "have" to happen (like Starkiller, if it's mentioned it has to explode I feel like, I've never seen a fic where it stays, whereas I couldn't tell you of a similar HP element)) (fandoms are so interesting honestly! I'll stop rambling but it's so fun just thinking about them aaah)

All the deep-dives on wookieepedia got me thinking about trying to create an OC, and now I'm trying to figure out planets where she could have been. There are so many of them, and a lot are either uninhabitable (how many gas giants can they create honestly) or not really places a normal person would go. There's a lot of cool names though (like Empress Teta) and I've found at least two planets that specialise in maths or engineering, plus all the casinos and places we only know because "there was a battle there, during one of the numerous wars but most likely the clone wars". If there are planets you think are fun, I would love to hear about them! I'm just looking at the list of planets on wookieepedia and opening the ones that have cool names, but I know I have to be missing interesting ones haha.

Also since the last ask I've also spent a certain amount of time just... Thinking about more or less anything in the prequels but especially stuff around Obikin and I didn't think that would happen but whoa it happened and my brain won't stop. Since you were my "point of entry" in a way into all this, at least in part, I figured I'd tell you! (That and my friend who's also kinda into SW has made it very clear he was drawing the line at Obkin, which honestly I've done worse but hey) I have a few recordings of my thoughts where I just trail off into like, vague simping over Obi-Wan or essays over why everything is sad in the prequels, or ~ Obikin ~ and I'm having a lot of fun :') I'm hoping this doesn't just disappear in a month or two, that would be disappointing. (I'm telling you all this, I hope you don't mind? You're honestly the closest thing to a fandom friend I have (which sounds sad but it's not I swear) so I'm just rambling here but if you don't like it I'll stop :')) )

- ☂️

Hey there Anon ☂️!! Its great to see you again, how are you? I'm alright i suppose, irl health issues are kicking my ass but we vibing lmao. And I definitely don't mind that this has turned into a letter correspondence! I always look forward to hearing from you!!

My pleasure for the recs, and I totally get that about your brain deciding to not do something :')

Theres definitely a lot more short fics in the obikin and kylux parts than there are in, say, the Harry Potter fandom but I think that's more because theres less fics all around, so proportionately it works out to be a larger part of all fic. Obikin only just hit 3k total works on Ao3 a few weeks (maybe two months?) ago, and im not sure how many there are for kylux but id imagine its a fairly similar number. Compared to Harry Potter, one of the biggest fandoms out there, its really not surprising. And you're definitely right about how it feels like theres certain canon events that "have to" happen, I've seen severely obikin fics that have Anakin fall regardless, and several where he was with Padmé at one point but they broke up for whatever reason. Im not really sure why that is, it'd be really really neat to look into! And you definitely have a point with HP being so much shorter timeline-wise compared to SW, theres not nearly as much that can happen in only 7 years!

OCs in the GFFA are so much fun to build!! Id love to hear all about her if you want to share (and if you'd rather share in DMs thats cool too, whatever makes you most comfortable!) I have some OCs that I've been building for my canon rewrite series, and its such a process! Between picking their species and their home planet and what they do, nevermind whether or not they'd know this canon character or that one, and theres just so so much to think about!!

As far as planets actually go, I havent really looked into that many tbh. I think Bespin is really fascinating, thats the one in ESB where Lando lives, and of course Aborah is so so cool, thats the one where Darth Plagueis housed his experiments. I think the best way to go about learning about the various planets is to just pick one and learn about it, yknow? Im sorry I dont have any recommendations!!

And hey, I gotta admit what catapulted me back into SW as a fandom was obikin. These two idiots (/affectionate) have been in my head every single day since New Year’s, and I honestly wouldn't have it any other way! As disappointing as it would be to no longer be fixating on this in another month or two, this time is very very well spent and you're in very very good company, I promise <3 and im happy to be your fandom friend!! I love chatting about this stuff, SW is very much my special interest and I'm more than happy to answer questions (if I know the answer) and reason out anything you want to!! Im sorry your friend isn't up for obikin btw, its definitely not a ship for everyone 😅 luckily there's plenty of us on tumblr who are more than happy to ramble at length about them!

Man that answer was allll over the place, I hope you don't mind!! These letter style asks are so much fun, you're a pleasure to have in the inbox, Anon ☂️! I hope this answer finds you well!!

#anon #anon ☂️#thanks again!#i really do love chatting with you!!#i didnt have as much to say this time lol im sorry but i really love hearing what youre up to!#like omg you have an entire oc??!!#thats so exciting!!#why didnt i just say this in the main body instead of in the tags rip me #anyway thanks for the ask!!

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azems-familiar · 3 years ago

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18, 24, and 28 for the SW questions

18. how has star wars impacted your life?

do we really have time for the entire goddamn essay because it is. a lot actually. long story short, star wars literally saved my life when i was suicidal by not only giving me something to focus on other than my trauma and depression, but also helping me meet some of the people who are directly responsible for me being alive today! i've met some of my closest friends through the fandom, and since nobody can afford therapy, i project all my problems onto star wars characters and make them work through them. it works surprisingly well. there are. a whole lot of more ways that it's been important to me but i don't particularly want to get into them here, so just know that it is very very meaningful in a lot of ways and without star wars i'd probably have been dead at nineteen

24. would you want to be human, or from another species?

just answered that one in my last ask!

28. if you could stop one character from doing one thing, what would it be and why?

i'd stop Dramath from ""having an affair"" with Tenebrae's mom on Medriaas/Nathema, keeping Vitiate from ever having existed. suddenly so many problems are solved because the echoes of that single act ripple out through Revan, through swtor, through the Sith into the canon eras too, like. so many of the tragedies in star wars began here, with Tenebrae! and i have feelings about it

#asked and answered #cw suicide mention

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mcu-padawan · 4 years ago

Text

let it be me

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x gender neutral!Reader

Description: Obi-Wan Kenobi. A renowned Jedi Master across the galaxy. A prized General in the Republic. But to you, he was just a shy boy with eyes as endless as the ocean.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of slavery (SW canon), angst, some fluff

A/N: Hey everyone! I am back!! This took me FOREVER to finish mostly because I was adjusting to school being back in session and being back on campus. Anyways, I am happy to finally be posting this because i feel like i’ve been almost done for the longest lol. Hope y’all enjoy this!

If y’all want to you should listen to “seven” by Taylor Swift for this! It was a huge inspiration (especially the part where she sings about a braid… because… padawans have their braid… ok i’ll go)

(check out my other works!)

large italicized section is a flashback

not my gif

— — — — — —

“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” you say. You’re trying your best to keep up with Aayla Secura, Jedi Master, and one of your best friends. Even though you two hadn’t spent your padawan years together, Aayla is one of the Jedi you were closest to. Having spent almost your entire Jedi years away from Coruscant, Aayla is one of the only constants in your life. You first met the younger Jedi when she traveled to a planet on the Outer Rim to join you on a mission. Since that mission, both of you have made sure to work together in as many missions as possible. You loved spending time with her, and after having spent countless rotations without seeing her, you are especially happy to see her. Except for this moment in time.

“Nonsense! You haven’t been back in Coruscant in years! Everyone needs to know you’re here.” Aayla grabs your hand and pulls you closer to her, guiding you quickly down the halls of the Temple and into what you know will surely be your doom.

You’re not sure where your friend is taking you, but as you keep walking, a feeling of dread starts to settle in your stomach. You start to feel a familiar pull in the Force, a pull that you thought you’d never feel again.

You sit on a bench outside the Jedi temple. Your limbs are sore after all the training for the day. As a newly appointed padawan, you are still getting used to the schedule your new master has you on. Today consisted of grueling physical drills. After a week of meditation training, the physical training was a welcome change of pace, but you are now suffering the consequences of such a change.

After the training ended, your master allowed you to return to your quarters for the day. Instead of going straight back, however, you decided to take a walk outside the temple to catch some fresh evening air. So here you sit, on a bench in the temple gardens, massaging your sore shoulder in hopes of easing some of the discomfort.

You sit in comfortable silence for a while when you hear noise coming from behind some large bushes. You look up to said bushes, trying to see if you catch anything. Your master had been teaching you about reading Force signatures earlier in the week, but you don’t pick up anything tangible. After a few moments, you hear the sounds again. This time, you can decipher the sound of a thud followed by frustrated sighs and mumbling. You decide to get up and investigate, your curiosity getting the best of you.

You walk behind the bush to find a fellow padawan trying to float upside down while keeping his legs crossed and under (on top?) of him. You can see his form is off, and you notice the visible shakiness going through him as he closes his eyes and silently mumbles to himself. You keep watching him for a few moments until he suddenly falls out of his position and onto the floor. He quickly scrambles up, dusting his robes off in visible frustration. It’s not until he looks up that he notices you looking at him.

“Umm... hello there,” the young man says.

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment of being caught spying. You quickly scramble up an answer.

“Hi. I wasn’t spying you know.” You mentally curse yourself at the obviously flustered response.

“Right. Well, I’m sorry you had to see that.” He mumbles the last half, looking down and dusting his robes in discomfort.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you say as you move closer to him.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, at your service,” he says and looks up at you. The two of you make eye contact and you feel your breath leave your body.

The bluest eyes you’ve ever seen capture you. You feel like you can’t look away from the eyes of a young man you just met. You feel a tug towards him, but you can’t exactly describe what the tug is. You only know that you feel like you’ve known Obi-Wan Kenobi your whole life.

“What... what were you doing behind the bushes?” You decide to break the silence, if only to prolong the time you have to look at him.

He laughs and averts his eyes, a ting of pink brushing his cheeks. “I was working on a new meditation drill my master taught me. Well, I guess it’s not new... I’ve been trying to figure this out for a while. As you can see, I haven’t been successful.” You can tell he’s embarrassed, as he keeps his eyes on anything but your direction. His hands are fidgeting at his side.

You hesitate, unsure how your proposal will sound, but ultimately decide it’s worth a shot. “I- I can help you out, if you’d like.”

He looks up. You’re trapped in the depth of his eyes once again, the pull you previously felt stronger now. You take a couple steps closer to him and continue.

“My master taught me a couple of breathing techniques that helped me out with this exercise. Here, let me show you.” You move to sit on the floor with your legs crossed, motioning for him to do the same. Obi-Wan sits next to you. At this distance, you can feel the warmth that radiates from Obi-Wan. At this distance, you can feel the pull get stronger and know that it’s a product of the Force. At this distance, you feel yourself get trapped inside Obi-Wan’s Force signature, warmth and safety the only words on your mind.

And that’s how it began. Weeks of practicing drills together turned into years of friendship with Obi-Wan Kenobi. You two trained almost daily together, offering comfort after difficult training sessions, confiding in each other secrets nobody else knew. But that was then, and this is now, ten years later, with nothing but memories of those deep blue eyes.

Aayla pulls you into a room. You can only assume a meeting has just wrapped up, given the Jedi chatting. You recognize several faces of Jedi you’ve met throughout your missions. You nod and smile in acknowledgment to those you make eye contact with, but Aayla keeps on pulling you away before you get a chance to give a proper hello.

Aayla finally stops in front of three Jedi. You recognize Kit Fisto, and you’re sure the other Jedi is Luminara Unduli (you hadn’t had the chance of formally meeting her yet). The third figure looks up when you join the group. When you meet his eyes, it takes all your willpower not to gasp.

An ocean, deep and endless, captures you. The pull in the Force you’d been feeling since arriving at Coruscant is as intense as ever, awakening after being dormant for more than 10 years.

You don’t recognize his face. No, the face looking back at yours is not one you remember. Gone is the shy smile of the young man you met all that time ago. Gone is the excited expression of the young padawan you spent each and every day with. Gone is the eager innocence of the man you’d come to know and love.

Instead, the man you face is one who’s had to endure loss, as many other Jedi had due to the war. Years of fighting have taken a toll on this man, it’s evident through the lines surrounding his eyes and the grey hair around his temples. His face is hardened with years of experience as a Jedi, a Jedi who’s seen the true evil in the galaxy.

But his eyes. They’re the same eyes you’ve always known. And they offer the same warmth and safety they did when you first met Obi-Wan Kenobi all those years ago.

“Hello there.”

The rich voice with the unmistakable Coruscant accent breaks you away from your thoughts. You feel heat come up to your cheeks when you realize you’ve been staring.

“Hello Obi-Wan. It’s been too long.”

You stroll the gardens outside the temple, fingers grazing the various plants and flowers growing there. Memories flood your mind. Memories of when you first came to the temple as a youngling. Memories of exploring the temple’s secret passages as a young padawan. Memories of spending your day by Obi-Wan’s side, climbing trees, wrestling in the gardens after dark, gazing up at the night sky and speaking of all the places you’d explore as Jedi, places you promised to explore together.

You stop at a bench and take a seat, trying to clear your mind of moments long gone. Everything had changed after the sudden death of your master while on Er’Kit, a planet distraught by slavery. The loss of your master forced you to become a Jedi Knight suddenly and take over the number of missions assigned to them. What followed was change: you had a chance to travel the galaxy and make a difference in countless planets. But with that change came loss: you hadn’t been on Coruscant for more than ten years, losing the only home you ever knew, and with that the person you knew understood you like no other.

You feel a change in the Force before you hear him. Over the years you had grown skilled at noticing changes in Force signatures. The Force signature headed your way is unmistakable.

He takes a seat next to you, his cloak rustling against yours, his thigh a breath away from your own. The both of you sit in silence for some time, simply readjusting to be in each other’s presence after being apart for so long.

He decides to break the silence.

“When I heard you were coming back to Coruscant I didn’t believe it.”

You chuckle, keeping your eyes on the garden. “I didn’t either. The council had promised me countless times I could return only for something else to pop up.”

“Well there’s no better person than you to lead our efforts in freeing those in captivity. You always were so caring of others.”

You wait a heartbeat before turning to face him and notice he had been looking at you this entire time. Your eyes scan his face, taking him in, really taking all of him in, and looking for the man you had left behind all those years ago. You find him in the warmth of his eyes, present despite all the events the war had brought with it.

“I tried to come back. As much as I knew I needed to continue on the operation, I tried coming back. I need you to know that I tried to contact you, I tried to tell you how sorry I was for —“ You don’t realize you’re rambling, eyes beginning to water, until he puts a hand over yours and soothingly shushes you.

“Shhhh Y/N. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I know. Naboo was a long time ago. You had no control over anything that happened.” His thumb is rubbing circles on your hand, sending chills and warmth through you.

“My only regret is that I wasn’t here with you when you needed it. If only I hadn’t been send on the mission to Er’Kit maybe—“

“Don’t do that to yourself.” One of his hands moves to wipe a tear off your cheek. “My love, you’ve been through so much yourself. I know I wasn’t there then. But I am here now. You’re here now. We’re here now, and that’s more than I could ever hope for.”

Your heart clenches at his words, emotions that had built up and that had been pushed down for years finally surfacing.

“You know, I almost didn’t recognize you,” you tell him. “Look at the man you’ve grown to be Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon would have been so proud.”

“Just as your master would have been proud of the person you’ve become. You’ve done so much for the people of the galaxy. Even if I wasn’t able to say it then, know that I’ve always been proud to know one of the best Jedi this galaxy has seen.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“As I have missed you, my darling.”

You can’t hold back anymore, so you lean in to hug him. Obi-Wan wraps his arms securely around you, enveloping you in his warmth and in his Force signature. Though its been too long since you’ve felt his embrace, it feels as if you’ve never left his side.

“I’ve always cared for you Obi,” you whisper into his shoulder. “Deeply.”

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you, my sweet. My life is a million times better with you in it. I’m glad you’re finally home.”

Home. You used to think the Jedi temple was home. But now you realize you’d been wrong. Home wasn’t a place for you, but a person.

He didn’t need to say it. His embrace, his warmth said it all. Let me be your home.

“I’m glad I’m home.”

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

Tags (ps feel free to ignore / lmk if you’d like to be removed)

@anakin-danvers @acciokenobi @obirain @goldenkenobi @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @cherrykenobi @valkyrieofthehighfae @corellians-only @a-dorin @jediforce @snips-n-skyguy0501 @anakinswhore @sweeetteaa @weirdfangirl2416

#so happy i finally posted this!#i welcome feedback!#usernobie #userkarina #ayatlovesme #obi-wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x gender neutral reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #star wars #aileen writes?!#my fic #my work

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frumfrumfroo · 5 years ago

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What are your favorite movies and TV shows outside of SW? I’m looking for new things to watch since SW was so disappointing

My tastes are pretty eclectic, so I will stick to just things that are either similar to sw or are in the reylo-esque romance wheelhouse and have happy endings:

Chuck. It is a goofy, light-hearted action-adventure show with extremely endearing characters and a very prominent central romance (seriously, heavy romance and there is a lot of payoff for it, you will be FED- it's kind of slow burn but also shockingly NOT slow burn, they are deep into it pretty much immediately). The main couple is the classic Stoic Badass gradually softened by an innocent they have to protect who is a liability in battle but full of the Power of Heart. Chuck is The Heart btw. He is of that vanishingly rare male Beauty (of B&tB) type. He's incredibly generous and open, Sarah is prickly and closed-off. It is Quality. Very much a gender-swap of your typical cliche anime couple lol. I would recommend stopping at the mid-season finale in season 4, because it's downhill from there. The beginning of season 3 is very rough, but it's definitely worth it to stay for the back half, imo. There are several great endings to choose from before things go to shit, so we don't need to talk about the finale. Probably the most tonally similar to SW thing possible without being high/space fantasy. More humour, more silly, but definitely has a spiritual kinship. Has the best THE BEST 'secret revealed' scenes I have ever seen in anything. If you're into that and were hoping for that in ep IX, you need to watch Chuck.

The Shop Around the Corner. 1940 romance/drama film. You've Got Mail is a remake of it. Jimmy Stewart being profoundly adorable, Frank Morgan (aka the Wizard of Oz), various amusing side characters, and an absolutely deathless double blind 'secretly in love with the workplace nemesis' plot that can and probably has been a great reylo AU.

Mirromask. Fantasy/coming-of-age film. Touted as a 'spiritual successor' to Labyrinth by the filmmakers (one of whom is Neil Gaiman) and let me tell you, that is extremely apt. Beautiful, magical, laden with symbolism and Mask Discourse, and has a great ship. I quote it regularly.

Speaking of which, I'm sure you've seen Labyrinth? If you haven't seen Labyrinth, drop everything and watch Labyrinth.

Legend (the Ridley Scott director's cut, not the theatrical cut). Sumptuous fairy tale, runs on proper fairy tale logic, stunning to look at and overall captivating. Tim Curry. Tim Curry as a lonely tragic lord of darkness who tries to seduce the heroine and has drippingly overwrought monologues.

Howl's Moving Castle. Fairy tale adventure/romance film. Beautifully animated, has the ending you want.

The Silence of the Lambs. Thriller/drama film. Actual masterpiece. Use it as a gateway drug to read the books and rejoice that Clannibal is canon and it is spectacular. Just SotL and Hannibal, you don't need to read the other two. Stan Clarice Starling and revel in that ending. Most triumphant 'villain'/heroine ship of all time (he is not technically a villain but for shorthand's sake).

The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. Terry Gilliam 1988 fantasy/adventure film. THE TRIUMPH OF IDEALISM OVER CYNICS I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW HEALING IT WAS TO WATCH AFTER THE TROS BULLSHIT HIT. Jonathan Pryce's spiritual villain is basically Chris Terrio and it is cathartic to see imagination and sentiment conquer him.

Sabrina. 1995 romance film. Modern fairy tale with Harrison Ford. Rejecting what you thought you wanted all your life for the thing you actually need, growing up but still believing in magic, beautiful character development across all the leads. Could be (and is irrc) a fantastic reylo AU.

The Scarlet Pimpernel. 1934 adventure film. High romance, secret identities, play-acting, people who aren't at all what they appear to be, falling in love with your own spouse, Big Heroism, guile and wit and audacity. It makes me do little kicks like a happy baby. This is one of the 3-5 films constantly tied for my favourite film of all time. There is a good quality rip free on youtube. Watch it and fall in love with Leslie Howard (this is possibly my favourite acting performance of all time).

Oh, related note. Pygmalion 1938 or My Fair Lady. (The musical is based on this film and borrows from it heavily, including its much more romantic ending compared to the original play.)

The Mummy. 1999 action/adventure/romance film. Very tonally similar to sw. A fucking great time, A+ characters.

EVER AFTER. 1998 romance film. The flawless and perfect and best ever Cinderella adaptation. This is the most satisfying film in history, maybe, the ending is so good it is amazing it exists. Also, it has Richard O'Brien being slimy. Huge selling point. Grapples with identity and stewardship, is brilliant.

Fruits Basket. drama/romance anime. I haven't watched the new version yet, but it's following the manga so I know the story. The original anime didn't do the whole plot (because they caught up with the source material) but it's wonderful and I still recommend it. The central ship is (spoiler.........) a B&tB type where we eventually discover the main love interest both feels like a figurative monster and turns into a literal monster. He has an incredible speech about his relationship with people's fear, it makes me weep. I called the endgame from the first episode and always thought it was obvious, but there is a red herring love triangle dynamic. It's really not annoying, though, because it is a red herring. (I hate love triangles)

I am Dragon. Russian monster romance film. Beautiful, simple fable with a really great heroine.

Jane Eyre. 1943 Gothic Romance film. It's Jane Eyre, byronic hero x sensible heroine love story with much atmosphere and Gothic drama. I stan this version because I am an Orson Welles fangirl and I'm also not convinced it can be improved upon. Elizabeth Taylor's film debut btw.

Hellboy. 2004 action/adventure/romance film. Defying destiny, reconciling identity, monster romance. The complete package and a great time. Tonally similar to SW and probably thematically closest to it out of this whole list. Don't watch the sequel.

Beauty and the Beast 1987 tv series. Exactly what it says on the tin. Deals with the classic B&tB themes, but in a different way. He's not cursed and will never transform into an ordinary man. The first season is very episodic and 'case of the week', but the second season gets more into character drama. It's dated, but if you give it a chance you can get past some of the cheese factor and it's really a unique experience. Its concerns are SO atypical that it feels like something fandom would make rather than a mainstream network show. It was so massively, insanely popular with women at the time that a record of Vincent (the beast) reading poetry topped the album charts. Also Ron Perlman and Linda Hamilton. Stop at season two. Point of interest: George RR Martin wrote for this show.

Stargate (the movie not the series) sci-fi fantasy about a nerdy guy who accidentally a hero.

Possession. 2009... mystery/supernatural/romance. Okay. This is a whole thing. Lee Pace and Sarah Michelle Gellar. It's based on a Korean film I've never been able to find for some reason, but being Hollywood they ruined the romanticism and nuance of the original in the theatrical cut to make a shitty punative ending. However. If you buy it on dvd and go to the alternate ending (which follows the original story) with around 20 minutes left (scene after Lee Pace's character wakes from a bad dream-go to deleted scenes and select the alternate ending), you will get a very, very interesting character study/thriller/redemption about sincerity within deception, compassion, and a major question about second chances with a positive answer. It's kind of dark and kind of astonishingly idealistic at the same time. The heroine makes a very powerful choice, twice over. It's fascinating. If you're into the conflicted and uncertain period in reylo, the part where he is most ambiguous, and you wanted more of that and much darker shades to it, you might be really into this. Also, it should be noted, there is a MASSIVE height difference and they show it off. The film is flawed (and the seams show on the Hollywood rewrite) but idk, it's fascinating. Shocking to me that they even got to shoot the original ending. It is pretty balls to the wall with its themes on forgiveness.

I would recommend getting into kdramas because there is a wealth of female-gaze tropey amazing content, but always check the ending before getting invested. My all-time fave is the 1st Shop of Coffee Prince, but it's not sw related at all lmao. It has a happy ending with all the elements you'd want, but it's not satisfying in execution, so that's it's major flaw and I find that pretty common with kdramas. One that is maybe more relevant is My Love from Another Star, which has a hero who is a little bit like Ben in personality. The heroine isn't my favourite, though. It does have a decent ending.

Oh yeah- brain fart. Kurosawa films and classic westerns were both very influential on SW. Or you can combine both and watch The Magnificent Seven.

#this somehow ended up a wall of text??? I'm so embarrassed #anyway it should be fixed now #recs #anyway 40s movies are fantastic they used to CHURN OUT rom coms and even the bad ones are entertaining #and they were not in the romance ghetto they had prestige actors and directors #I don't know what happened and why this isn't done now because that shit was profitable #another edit:#I messed up my directions on Possession bc I first saw the alt ending on YouTube from the fridge point #but actually the full thing starts way earlier and covers more of the loose ends than I remembered #so I've fixed that now as well #(because I just rewatched it after writing this rec) and serious SERIOUSLY someone watch this movie and scream about it with me #I can't stress enough how important it is you switch to the alt ending and watch that INSTEAD of the theatrical cut but but but #If you do - OMG the ending is incredible #the coded conversation the subtle optimism #it is a meeting place where we Soft Reylos and the edgier villain/heroine stans can meet in the middle

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tuuliivanovas · 5 years ago

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Uh oh it's headcanon time for my kid fic series

Some of this is backstory I dont feel like writing

-This series follows canon. Sort of. Ben is sent to the WBW and it takes a year for Rey to find him.

-There are a lot of unanswered questions regarding his time in the WBW and Ben suffers from nightmares and has trouble differentiating the real world from the other world.

-Ben and Rey never get "officially" married. They don't really even call each other husband or wife. They're just together. Their love runs deeper than titles. Also a wedding would be kind of awkward right after the war. Rey's friends take a minute to warm up to Ben.

-Disclaimer: idk how diplomatic immunity works but this is sw so who cares. Ben is technically not a living entity in a legal sense. Ben Solo died as did kylo ren. So he is just Ben now. Legally he is Ben Naberrie and that's how he inherits Varykino from a cousin. That cousin is rad and I love her.

-As Rey's boon for defeating palps she requested a pardon for Ben. He was "dead" at the time so the governing bodies allowed it. When Ben came back a compromise was needed. The core worlds are off limits for him. Naboo is closest he can ever get.

-Rey and Ben traveled around the outer rim and the unknown regions for a while to iron out the kinks in their relationship. Lots of talking. Lots of crying. Lots of canoodling. All resulting in the surprise that is Lena. Whoops.

-They settle on Naboo after that.

-Ben is an Alderaanian hair brading master.

-Rey learns she was born on Naboo because her three buns are a hair style for working class ladies.

-Rey and Ben love their garden. Rey plants flowers and Ben plants foods.

-They take in force sensitive children that don't often have homes. And some that do have homes. They teach the force. The philosophy of it or just basic training to get things under control. People come and go as they please.

-Rey learns how to swim ☺

-Ben is the push over when it comes to Lena and Rey is the more disciplinary parent. Not mean just firm when she has to be.

-Rey and Lena like to climb things.

-Ben's new lightsaber is a dark dark blue with the cross gaurd design.

-Lena has 3 close friends. Vaydra (human), Shora (togruta), and Zann (nautolan).

-Vaydra is my swtor jedi character that I'm repurposing here for reasons 😈

-Shora is daughter of the leader of the governing organization for the galaxy. I thank selunchen and her comic maroon for the inspiration for this one.

-Zann is Lena's childhood crush. Think cleo and Lewis from H2o. They are swimming buddies. Very pure and wholesome with that delicious pining (when they are not children of course) 😌

#reylo #reylo baby #My personal headcanon tag

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gffa · 5 years ago

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On the eternal "What counts as canon!?” debate, the closest I’ve ever seen to a yea or a nay on Fantasy Flight’s content is in this thread: QUESTION: “Exar Kun is mentioned as a mythical Sith Lord from the Qel-Droma Epics, in "Gadgets and Gears". Does these work as canon source material. Is there now a Sith Lord named Exar Kun from an event called the Qel-Droma Epics in canon?” MATT MARTIN: “I generally wouldn’t use those as sources.“ COMMENT: “He may not, but if it's from a company with an official Star Wars license, it's canon until proven otherwise. If not, the opposite is true.“ MATT MARTIN: “I guess that is where it comes to what your definition of canon comes into play. It’s designed to not contradict anything currently public but a creator would not be beholden to it if their story was to contradict it. So “canon until proven otherwise” is a good way to say it... ... but for me, if it won’t effect future storytelling, it’s not canon. Other media we will attempt to make it all line up (but even that doesn’t work out sometimes). “ COMMENT: “I wouldn't classify anything from FFG as canon since the line began before the reset in 2014. I'd put it in the same category as SWTOR. Tons of the books (if not all) have both Legends and Canon material in them.“ MATT MARTIN: “True, although the effort is made to align with modern storytelling in the 2014+ FFG content.“ Also of note that, around this discussion, there was also a conversation about, “Why not create a line of stories that aren’t canon but aren’t Legends, either? Like ‘Myths’ or ‘Fables’ or something.” and his answer was, “Because people will inevitably value it less than. In general, canon is way over valued.“ Now, yes, he’s part of the Story Group, but also none of this is official and they’ve really tried to make that clear--they’re speaking as knowledgeable people (same as Pablo used to do) who work in this area, but they’re not speaking as Hard Canon Rules, because they specifically want to avoid those, they (presumably?) want to keep flexibility going forward or just because that’s how things are set up. But I find it interesting to understand LF’s approach to “canon” these days and the above is pretty much what my impressions have been--people can sometimes get REALLY antsy about what is/isn’t canon and, hey, I get the impulse, I use the delineation a lot in the way I talk about Star Wars, but also it’s not anything that should affect one’s value judgement on a thing or even try to make everything line up 100%. That’s impossible and it feels like it’s the fandom who wants everything to be perfect, while LF themselves are like, “Eventually things will contradict. Don’t worry about it, it’s not that big of a deal. Just enjoy a story or not.” For me, part of what I enjoy about stories (and SW in general) is the interconnection between various stories that form a bigger story, I love watching TCW and recognizing moments that are foreshadowing for ROTS, for example. So, if something is “canon” or not does matter to me, because it’s about that bigger picture. At the same time, hyperfixating on details and stats to memorize, rather than enjoying a story, trying to make it line up 100% in the details rather than if the themes hang together, can be over valued. (This is just his opinion, don’t take it as policy or anything, of course. Any of this isn’t policy, unless it’s specifically stated otherwise, which is something that’s pretty rare to happen.) Anyway, so, FFG isn’t canon it looks like, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be really cool or might someday have parts of them woven into canon or whatever, especially as FFG works to be canon-compliant as best it can. BONUS BIT OF INFO ON CANONICITY: QUESTION: “forgive me if this has been asked before, but what's the official position on the canonicity of the extra scenes in comic and novel adaptations of the films. It seems like the Expanded Edition moniker of the recent adaptations meant they count for something.“ MATT MARTIN: “They're they same as any other books or comics. The exception being if they happen to contradict something in the film itself (which usually just happens because the film wasn't complete when the book was written, a problem we don't get as much of anymore with the later releases)“

#canon vs legends #canon #matt martin #meta

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lovelylogans · 5 years ago

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love light gleams

previous chapter | chapter four | next chapter

part of the wyliwf verse.

the sideshire files | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, complicated parental relationships, teenage emancipation, emotional abuse, mentions of being disowned, mentions of transphobia and homophobia, classism, mentions of past underage drinking, crying, religious content (church, going to confession), remus cameo, mentions of choking/killing someone, something similar to the canon “have you thought about killing your brother?” monologue, please let me know if i’ve missed anything!

pairings: gen

words: 57,686

notes: uh, this one’s heavy on the crying/angst/hurt comfort, folks, so tread carefully! take care of yourself!!

"you can just point," virgil says to logan, for the fifth time. "it's okay if you just... make any gesture ."

"um," patton says.

"he's going to pick which one it is," virgil says steadily, ignoring the fact that he's the last of the family who are picking a box from their pile. "i'm always last to pick anyway."

"it's true," says silas, "and why didn't i get to pick this year, again?"

"you'll like it, trust us," meredith says.

"yeah, but—"

"si," essie says, and she's the only one that patton's seen so far that gets no rebuttal for shortening his name, " trust us."

silas sighs, grumpy, and slouches over his (pretty sizeable) box.

"just one gesture," virgil wheedles to logan, adjusting him, and logan squalls in protest, throwing his pacifier. which happens to bounce off a purple box.

"you know what?" virgril says to logan, tilting his head. "joke's on you, i'm taking that as a choice, so there."

"i'll take him," patton says, amused, and he picks up logan's pacifier. "i'll meet you all upstairs, i'm just gonna rinse this off really quick."

they all nod, virgil picking up the carrier so that patton won't have to juggle it and an armful of baby, so patton makes a brief detour to the kitchen to wash and rinse off logan's pacifier. really, even with as clean as the diner is, it still touched the floor, so.

patton ensures it's dry, before he makes an offer of it back to logan. apparently, since he's tossed it, he does not want it anymore, how dare you, and so patton takes a bit of time to walk around and get logan calm before he goes back upstairs, so that a fussy baby won't interrupt anything.

and, thank goodness, it seems like patton doesn't—mark is laughing, showing off one of the new aprons that was in the gift he chose, a mr. good lookin' is cooking one as freddie snorts to herself—so he settles in one of the chairs that's been pushed aside to make room for everyone in the middle of the room, the one next to where virgil's set down the baby carrier.

he carefully lowers logan into the carrier, holding his breath, and logan, thankfully, stays quiet.

so patton curls up in the armchair and he watches the danes have family time. they open presents in an order that patton doesn't really get—freddie gets the latest book of world records, then essie gets some kitchen tools that make her go "ooh!" so it's not by age or anything—and it looks... really nice, honestly. all of them are clustered together in a messy kind of circle, watching as each person opens their gift of choice. so they go, and go, until—

"last but not least," mark prompts.

"finally," silas says, and begins tearing it open as he's talking. "i get to see why i couldn't pick and everyone else could," he's opening the top of the box, and patton notices everyone in the family grinning, "seriously, this better be..."

he trails off. he stares. his jaw drops, just a little, and patton watches as silas' eyes go wide, and a little shiny, and he seems to just get a little... softer.

"i," he says, falters, looks up and then back down at the present. "i—i don't—how did you even...?"

"well," meredith says, with a kind of benevolent, easy smile, and she reaches over to squeeze silas' arm and mark copies and they are so clearly being comforting or something to him, what is in that box?

and silas smiles, a real, genuine smile. it makes him look nice. it makes him look good. and for the first time all visit, patton notices how little silas has been smiling, or excited, and the glimpse of essie and silas on the mezzanine, and it hits him that... that maybe his problem was never really just with patton at all.

silas unearths it, and patton... well, patton doesn't know what he'd expected, really, but it's not what silas pulls out from the box.

it's... a lego set. one of those big ones that make up a specific thing—patton can spy the millenium falcon, on the side, before silas wraps an arm around it, obscuring his view, but he's still smiling so much.

"i can't believe you got this for me," silas says.

"well, you begged for this, for years, and—" mark begins

"yeah, i," silas says, "i mean, it was—it was years ago, i never expected you to actually—"

"well, we promised, didn't we?" mark says, and simultaneously, silas ducks his head with a laugh, and patton feels like he's been punched in the stomach—

("—where were you?" patton asks. he's maybe seven, eight at oldest, and he's holding his skirt in his fist, tight, probably crumpling the material that his mother will yell at him for later, as if she has anything to do with the upkeep of their clothes, as if she won't just buy him a new one to dress him up in later.

"hm?" his dad asks, looking up from the papers, and patton clears his throat.

"where were you?" he repeats. "it was the school play today."

"oh," his father says absently. "was it?"

"you and mom promised you'd be there."

and neither of you showed up , he doesn't have to say. christopher's latest nanny dropping him off after a 'playdate' is enough evidence for that.

his father sighs, annoyed, and sets aside his papers. "your mother and i both had meetings, pumpkin, i couldn't very well skip it."

"but," patton says, floundering, unable to find words other than "but you promised."

"yes, well," his father says, "i'm sure there'll be another one. we can try and make the next one, darling, how about that?"

"but—" patton says, voice small, and his father nods, as if the whole situation is settled.

"why don't you run along, now? i have a lot to get finished, you know."

it's not a suggestion.

"okay," patton whispers, before he tries to swallow before he turns and runs out of his father's office, to fling himself upon his bed and sob, for no one to hear—)

a tiny voice in his head, with all the finality and gravity of the two paths of his future stretched out in front of him, says, i want logan to grow up with the kind of family that the danes' are.

and he does. he wants logan to grow up in a warm, loving family, with nicknames for each other, with him looking forward to spending time with his family, with christmas cookies and christmas movies and fights that always seem to get settled and don't leave him heart-achey and hurting for days at a time, with warm, happy time together that feels like it's out of a movie, with the kind of mystical warmth and christmas spirit that's easily within reach, with promises that always get fulfilled.

he wants logan to have that. he wants to be that for him.

then, the voice continues, you can't get that with the family that you have, and patton can practically see the gilded gates back to his parents' house close, and it's almost anticlimactic, like there's been something in his heart that's known that was how his life was going to go as soon as he'd planted that note in logan's crib, and oh god, oh, god, he's going to be emancipated, he wants to be emancipated, he wants to make his own family and oh god oh god oh god oh god oh fuck—

what kind of person does that make him?!

and with that, as the whole danes family is entrenched in their happy moment with silas, patton stumbles blindly to his feet and staggers for the nearest escape he can manage—the mezzanine.

it's bitingly cold, but that's almost welcome as the wind nips at his cheeks and his nose and patton grabs for the wrought-iron railing so he doesn't fall to his knees, because his legs are shaking and he's shaking, so patton blindly grips tighter at the railing and feels the cold wind steal into him and it's almost welcoming as his stomach twists, full of nausea and self-hatred because what kind of person does that make him, what kind of person is he to throw aside his parents and run away and stay away and want a whole new family, what kind of horrible person is he to think about that on christmas eve, and so patton feels his fingers go numb and his nose get cold and there's tears on his face, he thinks, or maybe it's snowing and the cold is hitting his face and melting, he doesn't know, he just knows that it stings, and he deserves it, he deserves it he hasn't even missed them the closest he's come is to missing the apple tarts, the fucking pastry, patton has been missing pastry more than his own parents and they're never going to want to see him again they're never ever going to want to see him again and he's going to deserve it he deserves to stay out here and freeze and his parents would be right to never ever talk to him again and there's a click and a gust of warm air and a feminine voice saying "wondered where you" before falling off and patton lets out a hitching, terrible noise, and "oh, sweetheart" before the warm air goes away.

"i—all right, honey, is it okay if i touch you?"

patton manages a nod, and shudders as meredith pulls him into a hug; she's warm, and she only flinches a little when patton's cold nose makes contact with her skin, and she wraps him up in one arm, cradling his head with her other hand, and patton rests his head on her chest, forehead resting in the crook of her neck, pulled there, almost like a doll, because he's so busy crying, because it isn't snowing, he's been crying, that he can't really negotiate a hugging position.

"can you try to breathe with me, sweetheart?" she says.

and patton tries, he really, really does, except he can barely take in a breath like she is before it gusts out of him in sobs.

"i'm sorry, i'm s-sorry," he chokes out.

"it's all right, sweetheart, it's all right," she says. "you're trying, that's what matters. you're doing a good job."

he isn't, he's doing the opposite of a good job, he's doing a terrible job—

"okay. in again, here we go."

except patton keeps doing a terrible job, he can't even breathe right, how on earth is he supposed to manage a baby, he's going to emancipate himself and he can't even breathe it's pathetic he's pathetic and a terrible person and overemotional and stupid and too sensitive and he—

"patton," she says, and patton tries to gasp for breath.

"y—you don't have to stay," he sobs, in a sort of shuddering way, and she shushes him even as he continues, "i don't wanna r-ruin your christmas, you don't have—"

she shushes him again, and says, "you aren't ruining anything, sweetheart, you aren't ruining anything at all, we were just all saying goodbye when we noticed you hadn't been there for a while, that's all, you're all right—"

patton sobs again, and she brushes her hand through her hair, still breathing deep for him to try to copy.

another rush of warm air, and "patton," virgil says, hushed, concerned.

"could you make him some tea?" virgil's mother asks him.

"he hates tea," virgil retorts, without thinking, and patton nearly smiles. it's true. he does hate tea. he's kind of surprised that virgil's remembered that, though. nearly no one remembers the kinds of foods and drinks he likes and doesn't like.

"hot chocolate, then," meredith says, and there's a noise, and patton lifts his head, staring.

"logan—"

"i got him," virgil says. "i got him, don't worry, just—"

he leaves, and the door swings shut, and so patton doesn't really have much of a choice but to lie his head back onto meredith's shoulder and try to pull himself back together.

it turns out he gets exhausted more than anything else before he's capable of pulling himself together, meredith continually sweeping her hand through his hair. but he guesses that it must look like he's managed it well enough, because she draws back enough to look at him.

"are you all right?"

"logan," he mumbles, and she lets go of him.

"we can check on him, if you'd like?"

he does. he really, really does. it's less of a he'd like to check on logan and more like he viscerally needs to check on logan. so she opens up the door for him and patton shuffles into the kitchen, looking around, and virgil glances up at him, logan in his arms.

"is he—?"

"yeah, he's good, just wanted some attention," virgil says. "we've just been kinda chilling. you want—?"

but patton's already reaching out to hold him before virgil can even finish the question, and logan makes an indignant sound of protest before he starts to settle again. patton takes some shaky breaths, holding on tight, staring down at his son.

i hope i'm making the right choice for you, patton thinks. but, again, there's that... there's that something in him. this is going to be hard, yes. this is going to suck a lot, yes. but he thinks... he thinks this is what's going to be best for logan. for them. he wants logan to grow up in this place where affection abounds, and everyone is so ready to reach out and help someone who needs it. he wants logan to grow up around the people in the inn. he wants logan to have a horde of honorary aunts and uncles and godparents. he wants logan to know virgil. he wants logan to know he has a loving family, even if it isn't his biological family, but the family they both choose.

he doesn't want logan to grow up expecting his dad to break promises.

patton leans down to press a kiss to logan's forehead, and logan makes a sleepy, content sound. well. at least one of them was easy to calm down, tonight. maybe they'll just swap off for the rest of time.

logan's forehead's very warm, and patton has a moment of panic, before he realizes that he's probably just freezing. he's spent god knows how long out on a balcony in the middle of winter, after all.

there's a sound, ceramic against ceramic, and patton turns just a little to see virgil, managing to hold three mugs in his hands, before meredith sighs at him just a little and takes one.

"dramatic escape to bury myself and pretend that never happened isn't an option, is it," patton says wearily, and virgil huffs out a laugh.

"not really, but couch or kitchen is."

"um. couch, i guess."

patton moves to plunk the carrier on the coffee table, but virgil does it for him, and patton gives him a look before he sets logan down—he's pretty sure virgil's going to have him drink cocoa, so he needs free hands, and he'd probably feed him if it was any other day, but patton's still stuffed full of christmas dinner and three different kinds of pie.

and, true to form, virgil presses the biggest mug of cocoa into his hands, before he shakes out his throw blanket and wraps it around his shoulders. patton looks at him in surprise.

"it's cold," virgil says defensively, as he tucks him into it.

"i guess," patton mumbles, and shifts where he's sitting, cradling the cocoa in his hands, letting the warmth seep into his palms. he keeps his eyes on it, too—much easier than meeting anyone else's eyes. god, way to make it all about you, patton.

"did we do something?" virgil asks hesitantly, and patton's neck just about cracks from how fast he looks up.

" no," he bursts out. "oh my goodness gracious, no, of course not, you guys have been great, i'm just—"

he chokes up, swallows, and gestures with the mug with a wordless kind of exhalation, and virgil and meredith nod like they understand. they're probably just being nice.

“logan cries all the time.” meredith says, suddenly.

“he’s a baby,” patton says miserably, pressing his fingers under his eyes to try and stop the tears from coming again. “that’s different.”

“is it?” meredith says. “when does he cry?”

something in patton shrinks. a question. and he’s going to get it wrong, because he gets everything wrong, because he’s an idiot, he’ll never be good for anything but—

“it’s not a trick question, i promise,” meredith says. “why does logan cry?”

patton bites at his lip, nervous, before he says timidly, “if he’s hungry.”

“good. when else?”

“um. if he needs to be changed, or—or if his colic’s acting up.”

“right,” meredith says. “babies cry when they need things.”

“are you saying i’m… a baby?”

“i’m saying that grown-up people—or teenage people—don’t change all that much from when they’re babies,” meredith says wryly. “would you get angry at logan for crying for something he needs? of course not.”

“but i shouldn’t,” patton says. “it’s—it’s christmas eve, you shouldn’t have to spend your christmas eve with me because i’m c-crying—”

“people cry, sometimes,” virgil says.

“except i cry all the time now,” patton says wetly. “i’m s-sorry, this was st-st-stupid, i’m stupid, you sh-shouldn’t have to deal with me when i can’t stop crying, um, i’ll go—”

“ absolutely not,” virgil says, so firmly that it freezes patton from where he’d been about to stand. “this is not stupid, this is you reacting to something that is a seriously huge deal, okay? however you’re reacting, for however long, that is perfectly normal. okay? not bad, not strange, not stupid. ”

but i am , patton would say, but he can only look down at his hands in his lap and take in a shaky breath.

"do you want to talk about it, sweetheart?" meredith asks, brow creased in concern.

"you don't have to, if you're uncomfortable," virgil says hastily, and he adds, "drink your cocoa, you look like you're freezing."

he takes a sip. unsurprisingly, it's delicious, creamy and rich and good, and so he takes another, deeper sip, and it's like it's warming him from the inside out. huh. turns out he is pretty cold. he ends up drinking about half of the cocoa in one go, then he cradles the mug in his hands again, staring.

well. this isn't when he'd wanted to tell virgil, but it isn't exactly when he'd wanted to have this realization and subsequent breakdown, either, so. patton's gonna have to take what he can get.

"i'm just," he repeats, and he hates how defeated his voice sounds.

"yeah?" virgil prompts softly.

"i—i haven't told you yet, but, um. maria put me in touch with a lawyer to maybe make the whole not-going-back-home thing, like. legal." he swallows. "permanent."

"oh," virgil says.

"yeah."

"i—when?"

"um," patton says, and wearily scrubs a hand across his face. "your birthday? i think that's when i got the—the document, anyway."

"oh," virgil says, and his voice is strange. he's staring at patton, and patton can't read the look on his face, and—

"please don't be angry," patton says, and his voice cracks.

"oh, patton, no, no no no no," virgil says, a tone of panic entering his voice when he notices that patton's started to cry again. "hey, patton, listen, it's okay, i'm not angry, i promise—"

"i'm sorry," patton chokes out, and he scrubs his sweater sleeve under his eyes. “you sh-should be mad at me.”

“well, i’m not, so there,” virgil says, and patton looks down at his cocoa again and tries to breathe deep, to calm himself down, except it comes out hitching and shaky and definitely like he’s still crying—

“aw, buddy,” virgil mutters, and hesitantly shuffles closer to put an arm around patton’s shoulders. patton sniffles, and takes the opportunity to bury his face from their staring, because really this is incredibly embarrassing and he doesn’t deserve comfort, but—

selfish, overemotional creature he is, he’ll take it. he’ll take it for as long as he can get it.

“i’m not gonna be in my family anymore,” patton sobs out.

“hey, that—that’s not true, necessarily,” virgil says. “you’re you, you could work something out—”

“i’m throwing anything nice they’ve ever done for me back in their face and spitting on it—”

“hey, no, no—”

“—because i kept so many secrets for so long and this included, i mean, i didn’t even tell you that i was thinking about being e-emancipated—”

“—which you’re totally allowed to do, if it’s what made you feel comfortable and safe—”

“why are you so nice to me?” patton bawls into his chest. “i’m a terrible person.”

“you’re a good person,” virgil says firmly, rubbing a comforting hand up and down his arm. “you are a good person. you just got dealt a really bad hand, and you’re trying to fix it with the tools you’ve got, okay? wanting some distance from your parents does not make you a bad person.”

“they’re gonna hate me,” patton bawls. “i’m an awful son and an ungrateful idiot and i’m a disaster and—”

virgil says, in an even, comforting voice, “you’re a good son, you are not ungrateful, you definitely aren’t an idiot, and, i mean, who can say they aren’t a disaster, sometimes? and they are not gonna hate you.”

“ i hate me.”

“hey, no, no, no,” virgil says firmly. “you are a good person, okay? you’re just going through a lot right now, and that’s okay. just—just let it out.”

and so patton falls apart, and anytime he thinks he’s close to regaining some kind of composure, he falls apart again, and again, and again, and he really doesn’t know how long he spends tear-staining virgil’s shirt, or how long he spends when meredith eventually moves to sandwich him between her and her son, or how long it takes until finally, at last, he gets dehydrated and cries himself into puffy, red eyes, unable to shed anymore tears even if he’d wanted to.

at virgil’s gentle urging, he finishes another mug of cocoa (the one he’d had before had long since grown cold) and, as he’s staring at the dregs, he swallows.

“i should go,” he says.

“yeah, uh, no,” virgil says. “there’s no way in hell i’m letting you be alone right now.”

a beat, the sense that meredith glowers at virgil over patton’s head, and then he adds, “um, that, except, like, pretend i was more sensitive about it.”

“you don’t have to—”

“patton,” he says. “i would not let anyone who just cried on my shoulder be alone after, let alone you. i mean, you could stay here, if you want. you could go with my mom, if you want. just—just don’t go back to the poolhouse. or at least, if you’re going, i’m gonna go with you.”

“i—”

“patton,” he says. “it’s christmas eve. just for tonight, i can help look after logan and we can tell him about santa, or we can eat leftover cookies and cocoa, or you can just go to sleep, or whatever, just… don’t be alone. please. ”

patton hesitates. on one hand, he’s kind of embarrassed that he broke down this much in front of virgil and his mom, who patton barely knows, really. on the other hand…

well, on the other hand. he doesn’t want to be alone right now. he really, really doesn’t. and he loves logan, loves him more than he could ever have imagined loving someone, but… well, logan is a baby. he’s not exactly company.

patton chews his lip, before he says, “i don’t have anything to wear.”

“you can borrow some of my old clothes for pajamas, if you want,” virgil says immediately, back straightening up a little, like he’s paying closer attention. “and, um—”

“i can drop by your place to pick up clothes or anything the baby needs and swing by early tomorrow,” meredith says. “mark and i were planning on swinging by early anyway, really, to see if virgil needs any help with breakfast.”

“oh,” patton says. “i—okay. yeah. that works. thank you.”

“do you have a preference? for the clothes i should grab, i mean.”

“oh. i mean, i—i have a box of sweaters? any one of those should work,” patton says. “it should be right by the door. i can just re-wear these pants.”

“box of sweaters, got it,” meredith says. “do you want anything else? water, more cocoa?”

“no thank you.”

“all right, then,” she says, and gently squeezes his shoulder, rubbing her thumb briefly over his shoulder blade before she rises to her feet and gathers the empty mugs in her hands. “i’ll just drop these off in the kitchen, then.”

she rises to her feet and, with that, logan, patton, and virgil are on their own.

“um,” virgil says. “so, i could. i could grab some stuff for pajamas now, if you want. or we could explain the miracle of christmas to logan. or—”

“pajamas sounds good,” patton says. “i—i kind of just want to go to sleep.”

well, really, it’s less of a i want to go to sleep and more like this was so embarrassing and i really don’t want anyone to look at me right now, but. sure. sleep sounds good too.

“yeah,” virgil says, getting to his feet. “yeah, of course. um—follow me.”

it’s not like patton really needs the direction—this is a one-bedroom apartment, after all—but patton picks up logan’s carrier and obediently plods after him anyway.

virgil’s room is dark, and tiny. there’s a pile of blankets on the bed, messy, which shows patton that virgil doesn’t really make his bed in the morning. there’s a couple discarded clothing items on the ground, like the purple flannel he wore yesterday, and the black hoodie he wore the day before that, but other than that, the room’s pretty tidy, with a few frames dotting the walls, the windowsills, and the top of the dresser, which virgil is now digging around in, so patton can’t see them.

however, he can tell that there are some framed posters on the wall, and patton smiles a little. bands that, a couple weeks ago, he’d been surprised to learn virgil really liked, some art that fits the dark kind of vibe, and—

“disney guy, huh?”

“oh, yeah,” virgil says, and awkwardly smiles at him a little over his shoulder. “um, don’t spill my secrets.”

“cross my heart.” patton says, and does so with the hand that isn’t holding logan’s carrier.

“okay, so,” virgil says. “um. you know where the bathroom is, here, i’ll take logan so you can get ready for bed. i think i’ve got a spare toothbrush in the cabinet under the sink.”

mostly on autopilot, patton hands over the carrier and accepts the clothes that virgil sets in his arms. he goes into virgil’s bathroom. he closes the door. he plants his hands on the counter, and stares at himself in the mirror.

jesus, he looks awful.

his eyes are red and puffy, his cheeks flushed and patchy, tear-streaked and exhausted. the bags under his eyes are about as deep as they’ve ever been, patton thinks, and that’s just his face and not even going into the rest of his body, which patton has a much more complicated relationship with, and this is not the time to get into this he doesn’t think he could cry again but he doesn’t want to risk it, so. he turns his back to the mirror, and shakes out the clothes that virgil’s grabbed for him.

they. are. massive. they are so big. like, patton knows that virgil’s taller than him—patton thinks he’s almost exactly a foot taller than him—but it’s almost a whole other thing to hold one of virgil’s old shirts up to his body and watch as the hem falls practically to his knees.

okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. but it’s not a huge one.

he keeps his back to the mirror as he changes—honestly, it’s fortunate that he’d worn one of the really comfy nursing bras that are meant for sleeping anyway—and ends up drawing the elastic drawstring of the sweatpants as tight as they’ll go, shoving them high on his hips so they can at least catch on the wider part of his belly, because if he wears them like he wears his normal pants they’ll undoubtedly fall down. and even then, patton has to bend to roll up the hem of the sweatpants, so he won’t trip and fall over them. patton usually wears bigger, baggier clothes (hurrah dysphoria) but this is above and beyond patton’s usual fare.

it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t like it, though. he likes it a lot. under this black t-shirt advertising a sideshire winterfest from a few years back, there is only the vaguest suggestion of a body, no telling what gender. the clothes are well-worn and cozy, and patton feels oddly comforted at the sensation of them. (even men’s clothes feel better on him than clothes made for women. he isn’t sure if that’s the sexism or if it’s him being trans, but, honestly. the presence of pockets alone are such a gigantic benefit.)

so, after having splashed some cold water on his face and brushed his teeth with the fresh-from-the-plastic-packaging toothbrush that he’d found tidily tucked away along with enough spare toothpaste, shampoo, and soap to last virgil probably until he’s forty, he emerges back into virgil’s bedroom to see him wrestling with a fitted sheet.

“what are you doing?” patton asks, going to peek briefly at logan’s sleeping face from where he’s safely tucked away in a corner—probably the best place for him, really, if he’d been put on the top of the dresser there was the slightest chance that logan might fall, which is a chance that patton doesn’t want to take, and anywhere else in the room there might be a chance that he’ll get stumbled over, or, god forbid, stepped on, so—

“putting down fresh sheets for you,” virgil says, and scowls at the corner he’d just tucked under, as if ensuring that it’ll stay through willpower and intimidation alone. “sorry, i don’t have very many super clean blankets, but i just washed these last weekend so they should be okay—”

patton frowns. “i’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

“that’s right,” virgil says, “ i’m kicking me out of my bed.”

“virgil—” patton begins in a sigh, but virgil’s already shaking his head.

“think about it logically,” he points out. “you have quickest access to the bathroom from here, which means quickest access to a surface that logan might need to be changed on. if you need water or anything, sink’s right there. if you need some privacy to feed logan, you’ve got it—”

“but—” patton tries.

“patton,” virgil says. “i know for a fact that your ‘bed’ in the poolhouse is just a busted old pull-out bed. please just take the chance to sleep in a real, actual bed for the first time in nearly two months.”

patton hesitates.

“consider it a christmas gift,” virgil says, and patton sighs in defeat.

“all right,” he says. “okay, fine. one night.”

“hey, that’s all i ask,” virgil says, and takes a step back. “okay, i think i managed it fine. if it tries to mummify you just yell for help.”

patton huffs out a laugh and extends his leg, so virgil can see how many times he’d had to roll them up. “if your clothes don’t do that first, you giant.”

“i’m 6’2”, that’s normal enough,” virgil says mildly. “you’re just a shrimp.”

“i am not a shrimp!”

“you’re, what, five foot even?” virgil says, and it’s so clear that he’s been joking to try and get patton to smile, but right now it’s just genuine joking for the sake of joking, not even a little pitying.

“five feet, two inches, and a quarter ,” patton says, and jabs a finger in his direction. “do not discount the quarter.”

“yeah, i guess when you’re that tiny, you take what you can get,” virgil says, and patton huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“you know,” he says, “i’m not even done growing yet.”

“a common defense.”

“ especially when i get back on t,” patton continues. “i’ll grow more then. i might even grow a whole foot. ”

huh. when i get back on t. not if, not a potential, distant, hazy future thing. when i get back on t. that’s nice to realize, patton thinks. being able to resume transition, that’s something to look forward to in his future, too. so that’s two things on the list. logan, and transitioning.

“that sounds like a whole lot of excuses, for a shrimp,” virgil says.

okay, three things. logan, transitioning, and gloating to virgil when patton towers over him.

“i might even be taller than you and then you’ll be sorry.” patton says, shaking his fist up at virgil jokingly.

“oh, i tremble in fear of the day,” virgil says dryly. “i bet you could team up with the baby, logan might give you some much-needed height.”

“he’s twenty-one inches,” patton says, “so you know what? give us a bit of time, when he’s able to hold up his head reliably i can put him on my shoulders and we can—”

“put on a trench-coat and pretend to be an adult so you can try to buy a ticket to an r-rated movie?” virgil says, and patton weakly punches virgil’s arm even as he laughs, and they settle into comfortable quiet.

until—

“virgil?”

“yeah?”

“um—thanks,” he says, looking at virgil sidelong, and virgil’s looking at him, all quiet and respectful and not even a little pitying, like patton had almost been a little afraid of happening. brown eyes a little shiny, even in the dim light, but steady, and warm. “for—for this.”

“hey,” virgil says. “what are friends for, right?”

“not just, like, the pajamas, and the bed,” patton continues, “for all of this. the christmas, the food, the helping with logan, and the—the everything. ”

a tiny, special kind of smile quirks virgil’s lip.

“i don’t know how i’ll ever be able to pay you back,” patton continues.

“this isn’t a thing to pay back,” virgil says, “you know that, right? that none of this is anything to pay back? all the stuff people do here—they’re doing it to be nice, not because they’re expecting some kind of retribution. well, i mean, they’re probably expecting you to be nice back, but i don’t think you’ll have much trouble with that, since you’re a nice person, so—”

“yeah, well,” patton says, staring at his bare feet, as the sweatpants he’d so dutifully rolled up are starting to puddle around his ankles. “still. thanks.”

“i mean, hey,” virgil says, even softer. “what are friends for, right?”

⁂

meredith watches as her son cautiously tiptoes out of his bedroom, and from the stillness beneath his hoodie that he’s holding his breath. he eases the door painfully, slowly shut, before he turns to her.

“they’re asleep,” he informs her, barely above a whisper.

“good,” meredith says back, in the same tone. “that’s good. let’s go downstairs, i don’t want to risk waking them.”

virgil nods, taking a moment to drop some of his spare blankets on the couch, before he obediently plods behind her, down the stairs, into the diner that once bore her name. none of the other children are there; mark must have sent them along, back to the inn.

however, mark glances up at the sound of footsteps, taking a moment to hastily finish his sip of tea before setting aside the mug. meredith’s not a betting woman, but if she were, she’d put her bets on lemon balm; most nights, since freddie was born, he’s had a mug of the stuff to wind down before bed. meredith’s more of a chamomile woman, herself.

which is exactly what’s in the mug he nudges before her, and she smiles at him in thanks. it’s probably a bit strained around the edges. she’s going to need a boatload of chamomile to calm herself down, tonight.

“is everything all right?” mark asks mildly, clearly posing it more to virgil than her, and virgil shifts even as he slides into the booth across from them.

“uh,” virgil says. “so, turns out. patton’s been considering getting emancipated and he just now decided that he’s gonna go through with it.”

“oh,” mark says, and sets aside the teacup with a definite clinking sound onto the table. “dear me. that’s quite a step further than you mentioned when we talked.”

“yeah, since i didn’t know,” virgil says, and accepts the mug of tea that meredith pushes toward him—boy knows better than to refuse his mother food or drink. it doesn’t help the dejected look on his face. “i didn’t even—i just thought he was having trouble sleeping, how did i not know how un-okay he was?”

“oh, virgil—” mark begins.

“i should have noticed,” virgil says. “he comes here almost every day and i didn’t even notice how upset he was until he was having a breakdown on my balcony—”

“cinnabun,” mark says. “it’s very nice that you’re looking out for this boy, but you aren’t a mind-reader. none of this is your fault.”

“of course it’s not,” meredith says. “virgil knows that. don’t you, virgil?”

he should know that. the ways virgil has been helping that poor teenager and that baby, from what she heard through mark, after they met the poor boy for the first time, and maria, when meredith had wrangled her into coffee, is proof enough for that, let alone all the little day-to-day things that she hasn’t heard, that she knows her son is capable of giving. tough exterior, her virgil, with a soft center. he’s the best of the both of them, meredith thinks, briefly bumping her shoulder against mark’s. all of their children are.

but virgil hesitates for just a moment too long, and mark puts his hand on meredith’s before she demand to know why on earth he thinks that it’s his fault, of course it’s not his fault, didn’t he see how much he was helping?

“some people,” mark says, “are very, very good at hiding when they don’t feel okay. you can’t help someone when they’re hiding it. and it certainly isn’t your fault if you don’t see it, at first. that isn’t your fault. you aren’t the one who hurt him. what matters is that you’re doing what you can.”

“i still didn’t see it,” virgil says. “i mean, you—you always see it. with everyone. ”

“not always,” mark says. “not with you.”

meredith leans a little harder into her husband’s side.

of the two of them, mark’s always been the sensitive one. always, always. she was the one who brought him flowers on the first date, he was the one to swoon and go sappy over romantic gestures, she was the one who had awkwardly mumbled out a response to his first “i love you,” too unequipped to actually respond properly. he was the one who cried during sad movies, to be swayed to adopting some poor unfortunate animal. he was the emotionally adept one.

he’s the person that people went to advice. he’s the person he’d be the person to quietly intercede and discuss matters with a diner attendant, and she’d come back to someone crying on her husband’s shoulder. it’s like he has a sixth sense.

so not cottoning on to the fact that so many of virgil’s teenage behavioral issues were rooted in some deep, emotional conflicts? his own son?

mark had taken it hard. they both had, of course, they’d both had their moments in the aftermath of virgil’s diagnosis wondering if there was somewhere they’d gone wrong, relentlessly backtracking their memories to see each and every opportunity they had missed to reach out to virgil and intercede sooner. but for mark, it had been a whole other level. how could i not see him? he’d asked her bleakly, one night. how could i do that to him? how did we not know as soon as he started acting out? how could i have possibly failed him like that?

meredith had, perhaps, seen that her husband had taken it hard, and moved to blame the only outward source she could. oh, of course, in retrospect, she knows that remus duke was only a little older than essie and silas, but…

but.

her husband had been hurting. her husband is the emotional one, the soft one. of the pair, she’s always been the angry one, the defensive one, the fighter. for better or worse.

virgil looks into his cup of tea, and mark’s hand moves to squeeze his wrist.

“i’m not trying to blame you,” he says, quiet but firm. “you were hurting. you did what you thought would help. i didn’t understand. what matters is—and i hope you agree—we did what we could to help you when we did understand.”

“you did,” virgil says.

“and that’s what matters,” meredith says.

“i hardly think you’re just going to abandon that boy and that baby because he’s just now told you about something that’s bothering him,” mark adds.

“of course not,” virgil says, a little offended.

“well, there you go,” meredith says. “you can’t change the past, you can only keep moving forward.”

“emile says the same thing,” virgil says, and then his eyes widen. “i’m an idiot.”

“what? no, you’re not,” meredith says heatedly. if emile picani has taken a sudden turn to cruelty she’ll march right in there and—

“ emile, ” virgil says, and opens and closes his hand. “someone has to have a pen—”

meredith takes one out of her pocket—waitress hobbies run deep—and virgil scribbles a few times on the corner of a napkin to get the ink flowing. meredith tilts her head in order to read what her son is scrawling.

emile picani, the address, phone number, and he’s my therapist. i know he has experience with emancipation stuff and he does pro-bono confidential stuff for teenagers, if you ever want someone else to talk to about everything. he’s a bit weird (really into cartoons) but he’s a really good guy.

“just so he has the info,” virgil explains, folding the napkin into a crisp square. “god, i can’t believe i didn’t think of emile until now.”

meredith frowns. “haven’t you been seeing him lately?”

virgil shrugs. “holiday hours, for the both of us,” and, presumably because he can see the pair of them gearing up for a lecture, “i had an appointment in november and i’ve got an appointment sometime in the middle of january, i’m still taking my meds, i’m doing pretty okay on the whole anxiety front, promise.”

“pretty okay?” meredith repeats. she’d sure hope that her son was doing a lot better than pretty okay. she’s really hoping that all of her children are deliriously happy.

“kinda hard to be like yeah, i’m doing real good with anxiety, mom,” he points out, and she cedes the point.

oh, not for forever, of course. she’ll be asking after him whenever she can get him alone. but she’ll cede it for now.

“do you think he’ll go?” mark asks.

“i’ll encourage it, and i’m sure if i mention it to maria, she will too,” virgil says. “i’ll make sure and grab one of his pro-bono cards so that patton knows it won’t be too expensive or anything. so. we’ll see.”

he pauses, before he says, “i think it’d be really good for him to, y’know. talk to someone about everything. having a kid, running away. his parents.”

aaaand that’s what makes meredith snap.

“ parents,” she hisses.

“mer,” mark begins, with the distinct tone of now, let’s keep our heads, but meredith shakes off any of that, because—

“what kind of parents raised him to think you’d be angry at him for being upset,” meredith snarls.

“shitty ones,” virgil agrees, scowling, and meredith jabs a finger at him in agreement as mark sighs at him for swearing, before doubling down and saying “real fuckin’ shitty ones.”

“virgil,” mark says, in warning.

“he’s right,” meredith says. “mark, if you’d seen how upset he was—”

well, patton would have gotten calmer a lot faster, probably. mark was always better with crying than her—even back when the kids were all babies. the only surefire way she could calm them down when he couldn’t was when it came to feeding time.

“they are his parents,” mark says.

“which is exactly what he would say,” meredith points out. “what, just because they’re his parents, he should tolerate them treating him badly?”

“of course i’m not saying that,” mark says, placatingly.

“virgil,” meredith says. “how bad did that boy have it, before he got here?”

virgil hesitates. meredith leans forward.

“i need to know if i should swear to kill them or not,” she says, joking only a little. virgil’s lip quirks, ever so slightly, so she guesses she’s succeeded.

“but, seriously,” she continues, “we’re all thinking the same thing, right? about helping patton give logan a great first christmas, by giving patton a great first christmas away from home?”

virgil nods.

“right then,” meredith says. “is there anything we should know?”

“he hasn’t told me tons,” he cautions them. “and this—y’know. this should be kept quiet. as far as i know, it’s—it’s just maria and me who know this stuff.”

“if you’d be betraying confidences,” mark begins, but virgil huffs out a breath.

“i was kind of planning on going to see emile about it anyway,” and oh, even if the sobbing, near-hysterical teenager hadn’t been a hint, that’s another big one. though this is something that, admittedly, she and virgil might not see eye-to-eye on, virgil’s therapy habits are sound. meredith thinks he should go more frequently; virgil makes appointments sparingly, to discuss things that really weigh on his mind. he tends to rely on other coping mechanisms before he goes to therapy.

planning to go see emile about something was a surefire sign that virgil was, well. anxious.

mark exchanges a look with her—clearly, he’s come to the same conclusion—and meredith takes a sip of her tea, mostly for show. she can barely even taste it.

“so,” meredith says. “patton’s… history.”

virgil sighs, a long, gusting breath, and traces his pinky once, twice, thrice around the rim of his mug, trying to gather his words together.

“patton’s family is rich,” virgil says bluntly. “ really rich. sickeningly rich. i looked up a few of the organizations that patton mentioned his mom was a part of and this one art piece that patton said they had in his house that he hated and they’ve got to be, like. i don’t want to ask patton and pry too deep, but they’ve gotta be multi-millionaires, easy. that might even be the low end of the prediction spectrum.”

“oh,” mark says, and meredith wonders if his mouth has gone as dry as hers has. multi-millionaires. well, you wouldn’t predict that just by looking at patton, with his secondhand sweaters and ill-fitting jeans and also the fact that he lives in a poolhouse . “goodness me.”

“yeah,” virgil says. “so. i dunno what patton’s dad does exactly, he told me but i kind of forgot. i think it’s insurance or banking or something, and his mom is on like a million committees, and they’re old money, i guess, so they pride themselves on contributing to society or whatever. stereotypical snooty rich people. you know the type.”

not personally —it’s not like stereotypical rich people tend to frequent diners—but as a business owner, meredith knew the type, or at least, the kids of those related to the type. convinced that since they were born with a silver spoon in their mouths, their lives were just as hard as the lives of families like meredith’s, who’d had to count pennies and struggled their way to each payday just to barely scrape by. and that they were better than people like her and her family, and that they had one something to deserve their amount of privilege and fortune rather than just hit the lottery in the genetic draw.

“anyway. so. his parents…”

virgil huffs out a breath, and takes another deep one in, and meredith probably shouldn’t be surprised that he looks like he’s fighting to keep calm. usually, he doesn’t take after her in conflicts; that is to say, virgil’s never been very shouty.

“his parents,” meredith repeats, trying to urge him onward.

who patton wants to separate himself from legally, and felt the need to run away with a newborn , and is willing to give up all those multi-millions of dollars just to get away from them. meredith feels a creeping sense of dread in her stomach.

“i hate them,” virgil spits out, and then an almost-surprised look at his own vitriol that flashes across his face, before he doubles down. “i mean—jesus, i’m twenty-three, and i know that it isn’t a good parenting move to keep telling your kid their life plan that’s detailed down to the very college dorm and expect them to keep at it perfectly despite the fact that he’s his own person, for fuck’s sake,” and he’s off.

it’s evident that an appointment with emile is probably the right call for all of this, because how was virgil supposed to help a sixteen-year-old kid? it’s not like virgil’s in the habit of making friends with sixteen-year-olds, since he’s twenty-three, but patton has so few people on his side, not even his own parents, so virgil’s all in for him and that tiny little baby that are both asleep upstairs.

it’s evident that an appointment with emile is probably the right call for all of this, because virgil had no idea how to strategize how to help this poor homeless kid, who sleeps on an old pull-out couch (maria had said that the latest mattress to get harmed in some way was going straight to patton but how often did an inn guest harm their mattress?!) and won’t let people lend him any money and virgil’s trying as much as he can, giving him a newly-invented family-and-friends discount and inviting him to do some odd jobs at the diner on the weekends just so he could make sure that he’s getting fed and has some money to save and how is he supposed to help when patton was so wary of it?

it’s evident that an appointment with emile is probably the right call for all of this, because how was virgil supposed to help patton transition into learning that being treated with kindness wasn’t a debt to pay and that not everyone has it out to lecture him about every little thing he does wrong.

it’s evident that an appointment with emile is probably the right call for all of this, because meredith’s about ready to take the car and drive into the city to give them a piece of her mind. meredith doesn’t want patton near those people, but if she ever has the opportunity to meet them—

“i’ll kill them,” meredith says, cold and bleak, and virgil meets her eyes.

and, for maybe the first time she’s ever made that threat, she isn’t sure how much she’s kidding.

from the glint in virgil’s eyes, she’s pretty sure that he doesn’t know how much he’s kidding, either.

mark, always the level-headed one, lays his hand over hers.

“hey, now,” he says, and then, “that’s hardly in the christmas spirit, is it?”

“i don’t feel particularly christmassy,” virgil mutters.

meredith can’t help but agree. christmas is supposed to be about laughing children, the glee of tearing shiny wrapping paper off that gift you weren’t expecting and yet was so perfect that you should have been expecting all along, cuddling with her husband on the couch with a warm mug of (spiked) eggnog in her hands, watching their children play and talk as they bounced around with the boundless energy of youth that only seemed escalated by a christmas morning, the solemn beauty of a congregation singing christmas hymnals, the warm feeling of all of humanity taking a day, just a day, to remember that they’re all in this together and to reflect on what’s important: family, and friends, and kindness, and good will to all.

christmas wasn’t supposed to be heartbroken, abandoned, homeless teenagers. christmas wasn’t supposed to be screaming babies. christmas wasn’t supposed to be about missing something that he should have had to sever himself from. christmas wasn’t breakdown after breakdown. christmas was supposed to be a lot of things, but not sad. never, ever sad.

and, meredith thinks with a surge of that old, familiar anger, it wasn’t about to be. she wouldn’t let that happen.

she’s on her feet before she even realizes it, and both mark and virgil blink up at her in surprise.

“we all agreed that we invited patton to our family christmas because we wanted him to have a great one,” she says, shrugging on her coat and grabbing her purse. “so, we’re going to give him a great one.”

“uh—i mean, sure, mom, that sounds great,” virgil says. “but it’s nearly midnight on christmas eve. what—how are we going to do that?”

meredith smiles, letting it unfurl on her face.

“oh, god, no, i know what that look means,” mark says, then, slightly more pleading, “meredith, honey, it’s christmas. ”

“what?” virgil says. “what does it mean?”

“it means,” meredith says, smiling as wide as she can, “that i’m going to go and raise hell as a special christmas treat for taylor doose.”

#my post #text #the sideshire files #my fic #my fanfic #sanders sides #love light gleams

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