#but my family could just disown me and pretend i don’t exist when they see fit

[hotgorloikawa]

severe depression time YIPPEEEEE

[phoenixyfriend]

Jangobi 5 for the soulmate thing? Because that would make the fight on kamino just *chef's kiss*

soulmate au prompts

5. the one where you don’t know your soulmate until you touch them.

Apparently there’s never any skin to skin contact in the movie? Because armor? So......... we’re gonna just. Quick little thing.

Also I’ve been doing a lot of “marginally less shitty” Jango, but this is just-as-shitty-as-canon Jango. It’s, uh, not much of a romance, because Kamino. Actually it’s mostly just a lot of angry yelling about human rights violations.

...I’m sure they’ll get together eventually. It’s just, you know... it’s going to take a while.

------

Jango’s heard about this Jedi.

The man isn’t famous, or particularly acclaimed. It’s just that Mandalorians gossip, and Death Watch isn’t exempt, and Dred Priest still has friends in the terrorist group. So do a few others.

(Jango sometimes wonders if he’d have invited Priest, had he knows the monster was only a step away from being Death Watch himself.)

(Probably not.)

(He’d at least have been able to see the battle circles coming.)

Death Watch hates one specific Jedi above all others: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

It’s almost enough to make a man like the pretty bastard, except the reason Death Watch hates this specific Jedi is because he kept Duchess Kryze alive, and Jango isn’t much of a fan of hers, either.

In the moment, though, the main thing this all means is that Obi-Wan Kenobi knows Mandalorian customs.

First meetings, out of armor, mean ensuring the arm clasp has skin contact.

His eyes flick down to where Jango is reflexively pulling up his sleeves, and the man just... does the same, sodden as the beige-on-brown-on-dark-brown robes are.

Jango can’t just play it off. He has to, ugh, arm clasp with a Jedi.

Kenobi probably guesses how unpleasant this is for him, going by the grim little smile that he wears, the one Taun We can’t read and Jango can, but they touch forearms and le--

They do not let go.

“Oh kriff,” Kenobi swears, and then it’s just... it’s too late. It’s too late to stop anything.

“Jetii,” Jango spits as if it’s a swear.

He doesn’t want to be soulmates with a Jedi. No sane person ever wants to be soulmates with a Jedi, but as a Mandalorian, and as specifically Jango Fett, who signed onto this project for revenge against Jedi, the idea is just... excruciating.

“For revenge? Not entirely unexpected, but I’m still somehow disappointed.”

“Stay out of my head.”

Kenobi smiles at him, completely devoid of anything but the blackest of humor. “Are you staying out of mine?”

And, well, no. They’re soulmates. Kenobi has more of an idea on how to control how far his mind wanders into Jango’s, but in this moment, just seconds after being bound together by the universe... Jango’s slamming into Kenobi’s shields with an embarrassing lack of control.

“Is something the matter?” Taun We asks.

“I do believe we need to speak alone,” Kenobi says. “Unfortunate timing, but this is our first meeting, and it appears we are soulmates.”

“Ah. We were informed of the human tendency towards such.” She blinks, too large eyes impossible to read for Kenobi, but entirely readable for Jango after all these years. She’s irritated. “I apologize, but it appears we were unable to remove such unpredictability from the product.”

A wave of revulsion leaks out of Kenobi’s mind and into Jango’s. The man just nods. “I understand. As it is, I imagine that the near instantaneous communication on the battlefield will be a boon, if any are bonded to each other or to active soldiers.”

“I defer to your judgement as client, Master Kenobi,” Taun We hums, still irritable. It’s less visible in her face, but... Kenobi can feel it. “I shall leave you to get... acquainted.”

Aaaaaaaand she’s expecting them to sleep together the second she turns her back. The disgust she feels at the thought of such carnal activities is thirdhand to Jango, but he can still feel it, because Kenobi can feel it, because they’re soulmates.

“Oh, do tell me how you really feel,” Kenobi mutters, sweeping past him into the apartment.

Jango wishes he could slam the door as he storms after the Jedi.

“Listen here--”

“Absolutely not,” Kenobi says, with the kind of bland, impersonal smile that Jango’s heard Dred Priest bitch about at least a dozen times. “I need you to answer me this: why are you selling your children into what is clearly slavery?”

“They’re not my children.”

“You choose to be dar’buir, then?” Kenobi clucks a tongue, acting like he can’t even feel Jango’s waves of hate that are just growing by the second. “Shame on you, Mand’alor.”

“I am not the Mand’alor.”

“No. You are demagolka,” Kenobi says, the sweet words of Jango’s first language falling from his lips like poisoned honey. “They are your children, Fett. Your clones, just as human as you.”

“They are little more than droids, Jedi. The Kaminoans--”

Kenobi laughs, sharp and bitter, and it’s enough of a surprise that Jango stops talking. The Jedi strides closer, and it takes everything in him to not step back at what little emotion the Jedi allows through.

“Let me show you,” Kenobi hisses, putting a hand on either side of Jango’s head and it’s too much this is not a sense he is meant to have.

Kenobi cannot lie to Jango, not in this mental space. Not in this existence. He can cherry-pick what he shows, he can exaggerate, he can hide, but he cannot present a falsehood.

What Kenobi shows him, as he pulls Jango into his mind and drowns him in the sensation of the Force, is how each and every clone shines, bright and unique and so very human, so very sentient, so very alive.

These are your children, Kenobi says, directly into his mind and with no room to pull away. If they choose to disown you for your crimes against them, then that is their right, but until they do, they are your responsibility. You’re playing in denial and cognitive dissonance, soulmate mine. If I have to drag you into caring for your children the way any Mandalorian would, then so be it.

“Kriff off,” Jango manages to grit out in the real world. Kenobi looks unimpressed, when he lets go. The sensations in Jango’s mind, the jangled distaste and horror and anger, those are worse.

“Are you going to be dar’manda?” Kenobi demands. “You, who were once king of your people, have you really sunk so low to be the worst of your kind? To be so horrible that even Kyr’tsad would be shamed? Or worse, approve?”

“You have no place--”

“You are violating one of the core tenets of your culture!” Kenobi shouts. “You are being the worst of what you could be, Jango Fett! The most important, the absolute most important element of your culture, the care and nurture of children, and look at what you’ve done--”

“The clones--”

“Your sons!” Kenobi growls at him. “Your children, Fett. I’ve a student that is, by every Mandalorian standard, my son. I know what it is to take in a child that is not yours by blood, to raise a foundling, and you are cutting off millions that are your blood. You aren’t turning away an orphan to another family because you cannot care for them as they deserve, you are breeding your children for war like bantha to slaughter.”

Jango throws the first punch.

Kenobi throws the second.

By the time the fight ends, the room is in ruins, for all that they do not draw blasters or sabers. Kenobi has Jango on his back, straddling his chest with knees on his wrists, a vibroblade to his neck. Kenobi’s lip is bleeding, and Jango thinks he might have caused a hairline fracture in the cheekbone. Both of them have at least one broken rib, and Jango’s currently blind in one eye from the blood pouring out of a cut on his forehead.

Kenobi’s a good fighter. If it weren’t for everything else, Jango might have even been able to appreciate that.

“You,” Kenobi growls, fisting one hand into Jango’s curls and yanking for emphasis, earning himself a snarl in return. “Are going to fix this mess you’ve helped create. If I have to drag the entire Jedi council, the entire senate, if I have to drag in all of Mandalore to make you fix this, I will.”

There’s determination in those words, angry and a little spiteful, but mostly just... disappointed.

“Of course I’m disappointed,” Kenobi spits out, like the words are hot coals. He’s expressive. Jango wants to like it, but mostly he just resents the trait. “I hoped to never find a soulmate; it just complicates things. Opsec becomes a nightmare and holding to the code is difficult. And now I have a soulmate, and he’s an absolute monster that views his own children as little more than droids.”

“War is going to come for them no matter what,” Jango manages to say, and Kenobi’s look is back to unimpressed. “Don’t pretend you haven’t heard of the separatists. There’s an army of actual droids, metal and code, just waiting for the right moment to pick a fight. It’s too late to stop it.”

“...you’re not only raising an army of your own children, but engineering the war that’s going to kill them?” Kenobi almost screeches, and the wave of nauseous loathing that slams into Jango is almost enough to make him actually vomit. Kenobi didn’t pull punches, not in the actual fight and not in whatever mental battle they’re apparently having via emotions and words.

“I’m not engineering it,” Jango says. “I’m just one part in a bigger machine. I got my payment. The rest is on Tyranus.”

He doesn’t even stop the images from flickering through his mind, throwing the man who hired him under the speeder.

“Master Dooku?” Kenobi whispers, horror growing. “No, no, I killed the--the Sith can’t--I killed the one on Naboo, and the Council mentioned the Rule of Two, but... oh hells.”

“You know him?” Jango taunts.

“He’s my grandmaster,” Kenobi says, and Jango can’t imagine the rest is meant to reach him, but the undercurrent is there.

Count Dooku is, by Mandalorian law, Kenobi’s grandfather.

Jango... suddenly feels a little regret about the taunting.

“I’d rather you feel regret about your children,” Kenobi snaps at him. “Every single one of them is a person, one that you chose to bring into this world, and they are your children.”

The argument is going in circles, but there are still places to take this.

“Your army is all adults, Kenobi,” Jango decides.

“They are ten years old,” Kenobi retorts. “Accelerated aging, sure, but they are children.”

“They’re soldiers.”

Disgust again, the same thing Kenobi has felt every time Jango has reasserted the purpose these children were born to, the same thing Jango has told his son, his sergeants, himself, for over a decade.

“A son?” Kenobi whispers. “Is your denial that strong, Fett? That you would claim one and not the rest?”

“Payment,” Jango says, and lets Kenobi feel the rest, since he seems so karking keen on it.

“Keeping one child in exchange for letting yourself be the creator of a slave army,” Kenobi says, and he doesn’t seem impressed. “Weren’t you a slave? Two years on a spice ship, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t you dare--”

“And you would put your sons in chains,” Kenobi hisses, hands going for Jango’s head again. It’s a sense memory, this time, of dark tunnels and exploding collars and a dar’jetii that... was his older brother. According to the Jedi way of thinking.

It’s a twisting fear and pain and I will die so that others may live while looking at an older man, a Master, who can maybe save the other slaves at the expense of one too-angry Initiate’s li--

“Get out of my head!” Jango roars, and he still can’t move his arms, and his legs are held down by the Force, but he twists his head to bite and Kenobi snatches his hands away.

Kenobi glares down at him, almost sneering with the amount of disdain he has for Jango’s general existence. “I’m your soulmate, and had we met fifteen years ago, I might have even thought that an alright thing... but whatever you are now isn’t something I can abide by. You won’t listen to morality, so let me say this instead: a Jedi does not kill an unarmed opponent, but I have full authority to arrest you, even here. I will take you back to the Republic, to be tried for your collusion with a Sith, and you will go to prison. You can try to run, but I am in your head, and you’re in mine. Once you’re in prison, what happens to your son?”

The implication is there, but even if it wasn’t, Jango hears the thought:

They’re soulmates. The Republic would place Boba with Kenobi.

He refuses to have his child raised by a holier-than-thou Jedi.

“Holiness doesn’t have any meaning in Jedi philosophy,” Kenobi says, relaxing just the slightest bit. “Other religions, yes, but no place in ours.”

“You’re a self-righteous bastard,” Jango says flatly. “Despite threatening a child.”

“You mean threatening to take custody of a child being raised in an unhealthy environment, one where he’s being taught to devalue his brothers, engendering a mental dissonance where he has to convince himself he’s special for a reason and that you won’t just drop him if he fails to be perfect?” Kenobi asks. “I prefer to keep children with guardians who love them, but the argument that he’s better off away from you isn’t a difficult one.”

“Oh, like a child-stealer--”

“My mother tried to drown me when I was a toddler,” Kenobi says, even flatter than Jango had been a minute earlier. “Because I was Force-Sensitive, and it was considered curse on my home planet. A Jedi saved me. Tell me that was a kidnapping and not being saved.”

Jango grinds his teeth. “You’re damned smug whenever you have some sob story that outranks mine.”

“This isn’t about who has the bigger sob story,” Kenobi says, and Jango can feel how he’s just as ready to start clenching his jaw to deal with Jango’s bullshit. “It’s about you doing your damned job as a Mandalorian and a father, and taking responsibility for your children. All three million of them.”

It really, really is a pity they didn’t meet before Jango took this job. They could have been great together.

As it is, Jango goes for the groin shot the second Kenobi lets him back on his feet.

[pumpkinpaix]

Pleeeeeeease get into the class one at some point because I very much want to understand the class dynamics happening in the story but I have yet to find a meta that dives into it

god anon you want me dead don’t you alsjdfljks

referring to this post

okay, so -- my specific salt about class interpretations in mdzs are very targeted. I can’t pretend to have a deep understanding of how class works in mdzs generally because uhhhhh yeah i don’t think i have that. i’m just not familiar enough with the genre and/or the particulars of chinese class systems. but! i can talk in general terms as to why I feel a certain way about the class dynamics that I do think I understand and how I think they relate to the themes of the novel! i’m gonna talk about wei wuxian, the daozhangs, xue yang, and 3zun with, I’m sure, a bunch of digressions along the way.

the usual disclaimers: i do not think you are a bad person if you hold opinions contrary to my own. i may disagree with you very strongly, but like. this isn’t a moral judgment, fandom is transformative and interpretive etc. etc. and i may change my mind. who knows what the future will bring!

OKAY so let’s begin!

here’s the thing about wei wuxian: he’s not poor. I think because characters use “son of a servant” kind of often when they’re trying to insult him, a lot of people latch onto that and think that it’s a much stronger indication of his societal status than it actually is. iirc, most of the insults that fall along the “son of a servant” line come after wei wuxian starts breaking severely from tradition. it’s a convenient thing to attack him for, but doesn’t actually indicate anything about his wealth. (exception: yu ziyuan, but that’s a personal familial issue) this is in direct contrast to jin guangyao who is constantly mocked for his family line, publicly and privately, no matter what he does.

so this, coupled with all the jokes about wwx never having any money (wei wuqian, sizhui’s “i’ve long since known you had no money” etc.), plus his like, rough years on the street as a child ends up producing this interpretation of wei wuxian, especially in modern aus, as someone who is very class conscious and “eat the rich”. but the fact of the matter is, wei wuxian IS rich. aside from the years in his childhood and the last two years of his life in yiling, like -- wei wuxian had money and status. he is gentry. he is respected as gentry. he is treated as a son by the sect leader of yunmeng jiang -- he does not have the jiang name, but it is so very clear that jiang fengmian favors him. wei wuxian is ranked fourth of all the eligible young masters in the cultivation world -- that is not a ranking he could have attained without being accepted into the upper class.

wei wuxian’s poverty does not affect him in the way that it affects jin guangyao or xue yang. he is of low-ish birth (still the son of jiang fengmian’s right hand man though! ok sure, “son of a servant” but like. >_> whatever anyways), but for most of his life he had money. he, jiang cheng, and their sect brothers go into town and steal lotus pods with the understanding that “jiang-shushu will pay for it”. this is a regular thing! that’s fucking rich kid behavior!!! wei wuxian is careless with money because he doesn’t have to worry about it. he still has almost all the benefits of being upper class: education, food security, respect, recognition etc. I think there may also be a misconception that wei wuxian was always on the verge of being kicked out by yu ziyuan, or that he was constantly walking on eggshells around her for fear of being disowned, but that is just textually untrue. i could provide receipts, but I admittedly don’t really feel like digging them up just now ;;

even in his last years in yiling, he was not the one who was dealing with the acute knowledge of poverty: wen qing is the one managing the money, and as far as we know, wei wuxian did little to no management of daily life during the burial mounds days -- mostly, he’s described as hiding in his cave for days on end, working on his inventions, running around like a force of chaos, frivolously making a mess of things -- it’s very very cute that he buries a’yuan in the dirt, but in classic wei wuxian fashion, he did Not think about the practical consequences of it -- that A’Yuan has no other clean clothes, and now he’s gotten this set dirty and has no intention of washing them. is this a personality thing? yeah, but I think it’s also indicative of his lack of concern over the logistics of everyday survival, re: wealth.

furthermore, i think it is important to remember that wei wuxian, when he is protecting the wen remnants, is not protecting common folk: he is still protecting gentry. fallen gentry, yes! but gentry nonetheless. wen qing was favored by wen ruohan, and wen ning himself says that he has a retinue of people under his command (the remnants, essentially). their branch of the family do not have the experience of living and growing in poverty -- they are impoverished and persecuted in their last years, but that’s a very different thing from being impoverished your whole life. (sidenote: I do not believe wei wuxian’s primary motivation for defending the wen remnants was justice -- i believe he did it because he felt he owed wen ning and wen qing a life debt, and once he was there, he wasn’t going to stand around and let the work camps go on. yes, he is concerned about justice and doing the right thing, but that’s not why he went in the first place. anyways, that’s another meta)

after wei wuxian returns, he then marries back into gentry, and very wealthy gentry at that. lwj provides him all the money he could ever want, he is never worried about going homeless, starving, being denied opportunities based on his class and accompanying disadvantages. who would dare? and neither wei wuxian nor lan wangji seem to have much interest in shaking up the order of things, except in little things like the way they teach the juniors. they live in gusu, under the auspices of the lan, and they live a happy, domestic life.

were his years on the street traumatizing? yes, of course they were, there’s so much delicious character exploration to be done re: wei wuxian’s relationship to food, his relationship to his own needs, and his relationship to the people he loves. it’s all important and good! but I feel very strongly that that experience, while it was formative for him, did not impart any true understanding of poverty and the common person’s everyday struggles, nor do I think he ever really gains that understanding. he is observant and canny and aware of class and blood, certainly, but not in a way that makes it his primary hill to die on (badum-tss).

this is in very stark contrast to characters like jin guangyao and xue yang, and to some extent, xiao xingchen and song lan. I’ll start with the daozhangs, because I think they’re the simplest (??).

I think both xiao xingchen and song lan have class consciousness, but in a very simplified, broad-strokes kind of way (at least, given the information we know about them). we know that the two of them share similar values and want to one day form their own sect that gives no weight to the nobility of your lineage and has no concern with your wealth. we also know that they both disdain intersect politics and are more concerned with ideals and principles rather than status. but, I think because of that, this actually somewhat limits their perception and understanding of how status is used to oppress. as far as we know, neither of them participated on any side in sunshot and they demonstrate much more interest in relating to the commoners. honestly, i hc that they were flitting around trying to help decimated towns, protecting defenseless villages etc. I ALSO think this has a lot of interesting potential in terms of xiao xingchen and wei wuxian’s relationship, if xiao xingchen is ever revived. regardless of whether you’re in CQL or novel verse, xiao xingchen really doesn’t know wei wuxian at all, other than knowing that he’s his shijie’s son. he knows that cangse-sanren met with a tragic end, like yanling-daoren before her, and that he wants to be different. but here is cangse-sanren’s son, laying waste to entire cities, desecrating the dead. I would very much like to get into xiao xingchen’s head during that period of time (and i think, if i do it right, i can write some of it into the songxiao fixit), but that’s neither here nor there, because i’ve wandered off from my point again.

i would posit that song lan is used to an ascetic lifestyle, and xiao xingchen probably is too -- but that’s different from poverty because there’s an element of choice to it. I also think that neither of them is particularly worldly, xiao xingchen especially. he lived on an isolated mountain until he was like, seventeen, and he came down full of ideals and naivete about how the world worked. I think that both of them see inequality, that they are angered by it, and that they want to do something about it -- but their solution is neither to topple the sects, nor is it to reform the system. rather, it seems to be more about withdrawing and creating their own removed world. I think that the daozhangs embody a kind of utopianism that isn’t present in the minds of any of the other characters, not even wangxian. honestly, baoshan-sanren’s mountain is a utopian ideal, but one that is not described. it exists outside of and beyond the world. i have a lot of jumbled, vague thoughts about utopianism generally, mostly informed by china miéville and ursula k. le guin, and I don’t think i have the ability to articulate them here, but i wanted to. hm. say something? there is something about the inherent dystopianism contained within every utopia, that utopias are necessary, but also reflections of the existence of terrible things in their conception. idk. there’s something in there, I know it!! but i suppose what I want to say is -- i do not think the daozhangs understand class and social hierarchy very deeply because they don’t see a need to examine it deeply. for their goals, the details aren’t the point. they’re not looking to reform within the system, they’re looking to build something outside of it. I think they spend a lot of time concerned with alleviating the symptoms of social oppression, and their values reflect the injustices they witness there.

regardless, even if their story ends in tragedy and there is a certain amount of critique re: the utopian approach, i think the text still emphasizes that xiao xingchen left a utopia and that he thought that people mattered enough for him to try, and that was an incredibly honorable, kind, and human thing to do.

YEAH SURE THE DAOZHANGS ARE THE SIMPLEST ok ok RETURNING to class and moving forward: xue yang.

i also don’t think xue yang has class consciousness lol, or not in any way that really matters, but I do think poverty impacted him in a much stronger way than it impacted wei wuxian. wei wuxian spent some years on the street as a child. xue yang grew up on the streets. chang ci’an’s horrific treatment of him was directly due to his class and social standing: chang ci’an is a nobleman and xue yang is not even worth the dirt beneath the wheels of his cart. what I think is the seminal point though, is that this does not make xue yang think particularly deeply about systemic injustice, because xue yang is so self-centered, self-driven, and individualistic. he is not even slightly concerned about how poverty and class might affect other people -- they’re other people. what he takes away from his experience is not an anger at being wrongfully cheated by a system, but an anger at being wrongfully cheated by a specific man.

xue yang is not particularly concerned with the politics of the aristocracy -- he has no obvious ambitions other than, “i want to eat sweets whenever i please”, “i want to hurt anyone who wrongs me”, and “i want to be so strong that no one can hurt me”. like, he just doesn’t care -- it’s not the kind of power he wants. he sneers at people for like, personal reasons, not class reasons -- “you think you’re better than me” re: xiao xingchen and song lan. to him, all people -- poor, wealthy, noble, common -- are essentially equal, and they are all beneath him. after all, what does he care what family someone comes from, how much money they have? everyone bleeds when you cut them. some of them might be harder to get to than others, but xue yang does not fear that sort of thing. it’s just another obstacle he needs to vault on his way to getting revenge and/or a pastry.

ANYWAYS onto jin guangyao (wow this is hm. getting rather long ahaha oh dear): I would argue that the two characters with the most acute understanding of class/societal politics and the injustice of them are jin guangyao and lan xichen. i’ll start with jin guangyao for obvious reasons.

where xue yang took the damaging effects of poverty as personal slights, I think jin guangyao is painfully aware that there is nothing personal about them, which is, in some ways, much worse. why are two sons, born on the same day to the same father, treated so differently? just because.

he watched his mother struggle and starve and work herself to the bone in a profession where she was constantly disrespected and abused for almost nothing in return, while his father could have lifted her out of poverty with the wave of a finger. why didn’t he? because he didn’t like her? no -- because he didn’t care, and the structures of the society they live in protect that kind of blase treatment of the lower class.

“so my mother couldn’t choose her own fate, is that her fault?” jin guangyao demands. he knows that he is unbelievably talented, that he has ambition, that he has potential, and that all of it is beyond his grasp just because his father didn’t want to bother with it. his mother’s life was destroyed, and his own opportunities were crippled with that negligence. it isn’t personal. that’s just the way things are. your individual identity is meaningless, your humanity does not exist. when he’s kicked down the steps of jinlin tai, it’s just more confirmation that no matter how talented or hardworking he is, no one will give him the time of day unless he finds a way to take it himself and become someone who “matters”.

jin guangyao’s cultivation is weak because he had a poor foundation, and he had a poor foundation because he was denied access to a good one. he copies others because that’s all he can do at this point, and he copies so well that he can hold his own against some of the strongest cultivators of his generation. he’s disparaged for copying and “stealing” techniques, but -- he never would have had to if only he had been born/accepted into the upper class. the fact is that i really do think jin guangyao was the most promising cultivator of his generation that we meet, including the twin jades and wei wuxian: he had natural talent, ambition, creativity, determination and cunning in spades. in some ways, I think that’s one of the overlooked tragedies of jin guangyao: the loss of not just the good man he could have been, but the powerful one too. imagine what he could have done.

jin guangyao spends his entire time in the world of the aristocracy feeling unsteady and terrified because he knows exactly how precarious his position is. he knows how easy it is to lose power, especially for someone like him. he’s working against so many disadvantages, and every scrap of honor he gets is a vicious battle. jin guangyao fears, and I think that’s something that’s lacking in xue yang, wei wuxian and the daozhangs’ experiences/understandings of poverty. i think it’s precisely that fear that emphasizes jin guangyao’s understanding of class and blood. jin guangyao exhibits an anxiety that neither wei wuxian nor xue yang do, and it’s because he truly knows how little he is worth in the eyes of society and how little there is he can do to change that. to me, it very much feels related to the anxiety of not knowing if tomorrow you’ll have something to eat, if tomorrow you’ll still have a home, if tomorrow someone will destroy you and never have to answer for it. it’s the anxiety of knowing helplessness intimately.

moreover, jin guangyao is the only person shown to use the wealth and power at his disposal to take concrete steps to actually help the common people typically ignored by the powerful -- the watchtowers. they’re described in chapter 42. it’s a system that is designed to cover remote areas that most cultivators are reluctant to go due to their inconvenience and the lack of means of the people who live there. the watchtowers assign cultivators to different posts, give aid to those previously forgotten, and if the people are too poor to pay what the cultivators demand, the lanling jin sect pays for it. jin guangyao worked on this for five years and burned a lot of bridges over it. people were strongly opposed to it, thinking that it was some kind of ploy for lanling jin’s personal benefit. but the thing is -- it worked. they were effective. people were helped.

i believe CQL frames the watchtowers as an allegory for a surveillance state/centralized control (i think?? it’s been a minute -- that’s the hazy impression i remember, something like a parallel to the wen supervisory offices?), but I personally don’t think that was the intent in the novel. the watchtowers are a public good. lanling jin doesn’t staff them with their own sect members -- they get nearby sects to staff them. it’s a warning network that they fund that’s supposed to benefit everyone, even those that everyone had considered expendable.

(did jin guangyao do terrible things to achieve this goal? yeah lol. it’s not confirmed, but his son sure did die... suspiciously...... at the hands of an outspoken critic of the watchtowers........ whom he then executed....... so like, maybe just a convenient coincidence for jin guangyao, two birds one stone, but. it seems. Unlikely.)

lan xichen is the only member of the gentry that ever shows serious compassion for and nuanced understanding of jin guangyao’s circumstances. lan xichen treats him as his equal regardless of jin guangyao’s current status -- even when he was meng yao, lan xichen treated him as a human being worthy of respect, as someone with great merits, as someone he would choose as a friend, but he did so knowing full well the delicate position meng yao occupied. this is in direct contrast to nie mingjue, who also believed that meng yao was worthy of respect as a human being, but was completely unable to comprehend the complexities of his circumstances and unwilling to grant him any grace. you know, the difference between “i acknowledge that your birth and status have had effects upon you, but I don’t think less of you for it” and “i don’t consider your birth and status at all when i interact with you because i think it is irrelevant” (“i don’t see color” anyone?)

to illustrate, from chapter 48:

大抵是觉得娼妓之子身上说不定也带着什么不干净的东西，这几名修士接过他双手奉上来的茶盏后，并不饮下，而是放到一边，还取出雪白的手巾，很难受似的，有意无意反复擦拭刚才碰过茶盏的手指。聂明玦并非细致之人，未曾注意到这种细节，魏无羡却用眼角余光扫到了这些。孟瑶视若未见，笑容不坠半分，继续奉茶。蓝曦臣接过茶盏之时，抬眸看他一眼，微笑道：“多谢。”

旋即低头饮了一口，这才继续与聂明玦交谈。旁的修士见了，有些不自在起来。

rough tl:

Probably because they believed that the son of a prostitute might also carry some unclean things upon his person, after these few cultivators took the teacups offered from [Meng Yao’s] two hands, they did not drink, but instead put them to one side, and furthermore brought out snow white handkerchiefs. Quite uncomfortably, and whether they were aware of it or not, they repeatedly wiped the fingers they had just used to touch the teacups. Nie Mingjue was not a detail-oriented person and never took note of such particulars, but Wei Wuxian caught these in the corner of his eye. Meng Yao appeared as if he had not seen, his smile unwavering in the slightest, and continued to serve tea. When Lan Xichen took the teacup, he glanced up at him and, smiling, said, “Thank you.”

He immediately dipped his head to take a sip, and only then continued to converse with Nie Mingjue. Seeing this, the nearby cultivators began to feel somewhat uneasy.

all right, since we’re in full cyan-rampaging-through-the-weeds mode at this point, i’m going to talk about how this is one of my favorite 3zun moments in the entire novel for characterization purposes because it really highlights how they all relate to one another, and to what degree each of them is aware of their own position in relation to the others and society as a whole.

1. nie mingjue, who is a forthright and blunt person, sets meng yao to serving tea and is done with it. he notices nothing wrong or inappropriate about the reactions of the people in the room because it’s not the sort of thing he considers important.

2. meng yao, knowing that his only avenue is to take it lying down with a smile, masks perfectly.

3. lan xichen, noticing all this, uses his own reputation to achieve two things at once: pointedly shame the other cultivators in attendance, and show meng yao that regardless of others’ opinions, he considers him an equal and does not endorse such behavior--and he does it while taking care that no fallout will come down on meng yao’s head.

is this yet another installment of cyan’s endless lxc defense thesis? why yes it is! no one is surprised! but this is my whole point: both meng yao and lan xichen understand the respective hierarchy and power dynamics within the room, while nie mingjue very much does not. this is not because nie mingjue is a bad person or because nie mingjue is stupid--it’s a combination of personality and upbringing. nie mingjue is straightforward and has no patience for such games. but then again, he can afford not to play because he was born into such a high position: that’s a privilege.

to break it down: meng yao knows that he is the lowest-ranked person in the room, sees the way people are subtly disrespecting him in full view of his general who is doing nothing about it. in some ways, this is good -- nie mingjue’s style of dealing with conflict is very direct and not at all suited to delicate political maneuvering. after all, the way he promoted meng yao was actually quite dangerous to meng yao: he essentially guaranteed that his men would bear meng yao a grudge and that their disrespect for him would only be compounded by their bitterness at being punished on his behalf. (it’s like, why often getting parents or teachers to intervene ineffectively in bullying can just be an incitement to more bullying -- same concept) meng yao’s reaction during that scene shows that he’s pretty painfully aware of this and is trying to defuse the situation to no avail. nie mingjue gives him a bootstrap speech (rip nie mingjue i love u so much but. sir) and then promotes him, which is pretty much the only saving grace of that entire exchange, for meng yao at least.

lan xichen, on the other hand, understands both that meng yao is the lowest-ranked person in the room and that any direct attempt to chastise the other cultivators in the room will only serve to hurt meng yao in the long run. he knows that if this were brought to nie mingjue’s attention, he would be outraged and not shy about it -- also bad for meng yao. so he uses what he has: his immaculate reputation. by acting contrary to the other cultivators’ behavior, he demonstrates that he finds their actions unacceptable but with the plausible deniability that it wasn’t directed at them, that this is just zewu-jun being his usual generous self. this means that the other cultivators have no one to blame but themselves, nothing to do but question their own actions. there is nowhere to cast off their discomfort. meng yao didn’t do anything. lan xichen didn’t do anything -- he just thanked meng yao and drank his tea, isn’t that what it’s there for? he doesn’t disrupt the peace, he doesn’t attack anyone and put them on the defensive, but he does make his position very clear.

i know this is a really small thing and i’m probably beating it to death, but I really think this shows just how cognizant lan xichen is of politics and emotional cause and effect in such situations. certainly, out of context I think the scene reads kind of cliche, but within the greater narrative of the story and within the arc of these characters specifically, I think it was a really smart scene to include. it also showcases lan xichen’s style of action: that he moves around and with a problematic situation as opposed to moving straight through.

not to be salty on main again, but this is why it’s very frustrating to me when I see people call lan xichen passive when he is anything but. his actions just don’t look like traditional “actions”, especially to an american audience. it’s easy to understand lan wangji and wei wuxian’s style of problem-solving: taking a stand, moving through, staying strong. lan xichen is juggling an inconceivable number of factors in any given situation, weighing his responsibilities in one role against those in another, and then trying to find the path through the thicket that will cause the least harm, both to himself and the thicket. lan wangji and wei wuxian are not particularly good at considering the far-reaching consequences of their actions -- again, not because they are bad people, but because of a combination of personality and upbringing. they’d just hack through the thicket, not thinking about the creatures that live in it. that is not a terrible thing! it isn’t. it’s a different way of approaching a problem, and it has different priorities. that’s okay. there are advantages and disadvantages on both sides, and where you come down is going to depend on your personal values.

okay we’ve spiraled far and away from my original point, but let’s circle back: i was talking about class.

I think it’s undeniable that class, birthright, fate etc. are some of the driving forces of thematic conflict in mdzs, and the way each character interacts with those forces reveals a lot about themselves and also about the larger themes of fate, chance, and what it means to be righteous and good and how that is and isn’t rewarded. a lot of the tragedy of mdzs (the tragedy that isn’t caused by direct aggression on the part of one group or another) stems from the injustices and slights that people suffered due to their lot in life. it isn’t fair. none of it is fair! we sympathize with jin guangyao because we recognize that what he suffered was unconscionable, even if we don’t excuse him. i sympathize A Lot with xue yang as well for similar reasons, though I understand that’s a harder sell. this is a story focused on the mistakes of an entrenched, aging gentry and the effects that those mistakes had on their children, and a lot of it has to do with prejudice based in class and birth status. whether the prejudice was the true reason or whether it was just a convenient excuse, the fact remains that the systems in place rewarded and protected the people in power who used it to cling to that power. mdzs is also a story of how the circumstances of one’s life can offer you impossible choices that you cannot abstain from, and it asks us to be compassionate to the people who made terrible choices in terrible times. it’s about the inherent complexity in all things! that sometimes, there are no good choices, and i don’t know, i’d like to think that people would show me compassion if I had to make the choices some of these characters did. not just wei wuxian, mind you, every single one of them. except jin guangshan because I Do Hate Him sorry. and i guess wen ruohan. i think that’s it.

good. GOD this is clocking in at //checks notes -- just over 5k. 8′D *stuffs some weeds into my mouth like the clown i am*

(ko-fi? :’D *lies down*)

[goggles-mcgee]

Okay, So I need to Ask Um, Got any salt on Marinette's Parents? Because as much As I love them in the show, They are almost never around to do anything.

Oh yeah definitely.

The show shows them to be loving supportive parents and I think a lot of us like to latch onto that when writing but when you take a step back, you realize they are almost never around and why? Because of their business. They are neglectful. Now it very well could be they don't mean to be, but the fact of the matter is, they are and as a result of that Marinette is very mature and always feels pressure to do things on her own or to make things perfect. That's a lot to put on a child.

Anyways mini rant over! There are 3 ideas on my Dead Sea Salt List that include Tom and Sabine salt and I shall tell them to you and the ways they are salted!

Idea 3. Marinette, The Rolling Stone:

This one is obvious here as this whole story is about Jagged and Penny adopting Marinette. Tom and Sabine like to think they know their daughter but the truth is they aren't around a lot. They don't even notice that she doesn't hang out with the girls in class anymore and hasn't done so in months for crying out loud! They don't even notice that she hasn't gone out to hang out with her friends either.

But then Marinette's friends come in and start telling them that Marinette is bullying the new girl, they don't even recognize Lila from when she almost got Marinette expelled, and Lila herself creates a sob story and well Tom and Sabine notice then and there just how often Marinette has been at home by herself. They fall for the lies.

And well, this is a blessing in disguise for them, they were getting busier with the bakery and thinking of opening up another location and doing that while juggling a teenager would be so difficult, especially a problem child. They decide to kick Marinette out, but they aren't "malicious" or "cold-hearted" they decide to emancipate her. They purely do it because they think they are protecting their family members by not letting Marinette manipulate them into thinking she's the sweet person they thought she was, and they want to protect their image. They don't want their family members to think ill of them.

Then Jagged Stone pops up wanting to commission Marinette, but Tom and Sabine tell them they grounded Marinette from designing and took away her sewing machine. He's livid and demands the reason why, they tell him and he just looks at them like they lost their heads, even asks if they did, because he knows there's no way Marinette would bully someone. They insist she has and she's changed and she's this horrible little liar and manipulator and that's why they are getting rid of her. It takes a lot for him not to get akumatized then and there but Jagged firmly says he'll adopt Marinette.

They try their best to talk him out of it but he's set. So they let him, they just know hope he knows he can't return her when he finds out they were right.

Life is good for them after they get rid of Marinette, that is until the interview. Nadja gets an exclusive interview with Jagged Stone, Penny Rolling and their new adoptive daughter that they have been raving about on social media. Nadja does nothing to hold back her disgust when she recounts what Marinette and her new parents had told her about Tom and Sabine kicking her out all because of a liar. The interview is an hour special where they debunk each and every single one of Lila's lies. And Tom and Sabine watch and the pits in their stomachs grow the more they watch.

After all that. Paris erupts. Gabriel literally passes out from all the anger and sadness he feels from his Miraculous and has to take sleeping medication and just sleep the day away. Everyone who had ever met Marinette was furious, not only at her school and friends, but at her parents too. Regulars who used to come in stopped. Which is a kind of a big deal in France, you pick a bakery and basically stick to it. Despite their products being good, people are hesitant to go to Tom and Sabine's, because how can they go to a place and expect to be treated well when the owners treated their own daughter so awfully and for what? For lies?

They can't even get a second location anymore, the owner of the place they were going to buy from refused their offer. They wanted someone who treasured baking and family to buy their place and they can see that Tom and Sabine don't treasure those ideals. They still get business, but it's not as good as it had been. Some people come in and buy something small but they always have something to say about Marinette, like how it's a shame she's not there, or how her cupcakes were always decorated the best, or how her smile always made their day. Little jabs that just made Tom and Sabine hurt more.

They tried to get Marinette back but to no luck. They tried to say the adoption wasn't legal because of the lies but that got slammed down pretty fast. They tried to talk with her anyway they could think of till she changed her number and Jagged and Penny threatened to take legal action against them.

Everytime they went out, it felt like they were being judged. Like people didn't even want to look at them.

Gina and Roland basically disowned them

Idea 6. Wish Me Away

Not a lot of salt but Tom and Sabine were getting more and more distant with Marinette the closer the big battle got. She tried to pretend she didn't notice but she did, they seemed to only be around ling enough to give her good mornings, obligatory 'I love you's', even when they had dinner together it felt like when they asked her how her day was they were only doing it because it was what parents did, not because they were genuinely interested. Everyday that got closer to the fight she had wanted to be honest and just tell them that she was being crushed under all the weight of her responsibilities but she knew if she did she would be met with disappointment and fake sympathy.

She knew it wasn't healthy, she knew it wasn't right, but Marinette figured she was better off than most kids so she never complained. Then the battle happened and the wish happened and honestly, her parents didn't notice she didn't come home. They figured she was at a friend's house. The second night it was a Sunday so they just figured she was still at a friend's. The third day it was Monday, a school day and nothing, she never came home for lunch which she always did, they remembered that at least. So they called the school to ask if she had been in that day but the school told them, very politely, that no one by the name Marinette Dupain Cheng ever went to their school.

Of course they freak out and assume this must be the work of an Akuma. But days pass by and they really start to get worried and try to get Nadja to help them but even she looks at them like they're crazy and calmly tells them they don't have a daughter. That's when they finally go up to Marinette's room and see it's just a normal attic. Then Marinette's classmates come by and her teacher and they ask where she is and they nearly weep because somebody else remembers her and they tell them what has been going on. They too think it's an Akuma.

Then Adrien comes by with a woman they've never met and he looks like he'll but they refrain from saying anything, they still keep their business going because they figure if it is an Akuma then Ladybug and Chat Noir will defeat it any day now and Marinette will come back. There are days when they forget that Marinette is missing and doesn't that just say something? But they have to tell Adrien that only a few people remember Marinette and they suspect it's an Akuma. They don't notice how pale the boy gets or the cold face his mother makes at the mention of an Akuma but they give them a couple discounted treats and send them on their way.

Then Ladybug makes an appearance on Nadja's network and says it's to give an announcement. She looks different, older, and her suit is also different but everyone is paying attention. She tells of the battle with Hawkmoth, Gabriel Agreste, that was the first big shock, she tells them that she was betrayed by Chat Noir, but she would not give out his name as he was already living out his punishments, she tells them that Hawkmoth made his wish and the world was paying for it, that Gabriel and Chat were paying for it, they lost someone dear to them, for Gabriel it was Nathalie, for Chat it was the previous Ladybug, Marinette Dupain Cheng...their existences had been erased from the universe but those who had wronged them or failed them would be punished with the memories of them.

Tomnand Sabine froze at that because it made sense, and at the same time didn't. How did they fail Marinette? They just couldn't understand it. Gina didn't remember having a granddaughter but she remembered Tom and Sabine calling and asking about a Marinette, and in a rare moment she had been in Paris during the announcement and had heard what Ladybug had said. She cried for the little girl she didn't know but she was angry at her son and his wife because they clearly remembered her so they were being punished, and she could imagine why. Their bakery was always their top priority, it was their baby, everything else came second. They never wanted a baby, they never said it out loud but she knew, so she could only imagine what this Marinette had to go through and she cried for the girl.

Roland remembered being helped by the heroes but he doesn't remember why but when he watched the announcement he thinks it may be because of the granddaughter he can't remember, he didn't want to see his son or wife, it had been that way for awhile, but he felt his heart wrench for the granddaughter he couldn't remember and would never get to know. Roland was even more disappointed in his son when he got a call asking if he remembered this Marinette, because it meant he had failed his own daughter and their protector. He knew he wasn't the best father but he felt outraged on behalf of the granddaughter he lost.

People found out that Tom and Sabine remembered and so they found out they were being punished, which made people a bit wary of them.

[The "new" Ladybug is literally just Tikki using Trixx's illusions, Tikki is hella petty in this fic, also okay that was more salt that I thought]

Idea 9. Ivy's Sapling:

This one definitely doesn't have a lot of salt towards them but there is some. They do care about Marinette and they see her as a niece more than a daughter. So they aren't really as involved in her life as maybe they should be but she understands that they didn't ask for her. When the problems with Lila start up they want to believe in her and they do at the beginning but they start to question of they could be true because of her background. From what her and Gina said, she was from the bad part of Gotham and so was her mother, they never told them she was Poison Ivy's kid, they just know that Marinette's mother goes by Pamela when she talks with Marinette on the phone.

So they don't fully turn on Marinette but they do start to be wary and more questioning, they don't trust her as much as they did before which does hurt her but they don't fully believe Lila and her classmates, or more like they don't want to believe.

[rosiehrs]

hourglass | jisoo

group ; blackpink 

genre ; slight fluff, angst

au ; highschool! au, soulmates! au

pairing ; student!jisoo / fem!reader

summary ; jisoo's soulmate turned out to be the last person she wanted and she had to face the consequences.

warnings ; death, slight mention of incest, swearing

a/n ; originally posted on my wp! one of my fav works hehe, also just something to feed you guys while i complete the requests!! hope u like it as much as i do, not proofread x

word count ; 5.4k

hourglass. we all get an hourglass when we reach 18,, the hour glass doesn't just last for an hour, it ends when you meet your soulmate. we all have a mark, a birthmark, if you will ; whenever your hourglass runs out, your birthmark stings and slightly glows.

my 18th birthday was just one week away. that's all i thought about during the first 20 minutes of me waking up.

"bae y/n! hurry the fuck up and get out of bed before i drag you by your teeth." my sister, bae joohyun or irene, said from the living room. "ugh, fine!" i replied, getting out of the covers. i brushed my hair and quickly got changed into my uniform. i then ran downstairs to see my older sister in the living room. "your breakfast is in the kitchen, now hurry up before we're both late." she said, watching tv. i nodded and walked into the kitchen, seeing a plate full of pancakes. i punched the air in happiness and started digging in.

—

irene and i walked into school together, talking about our upcoming exams. she looked up and saw her friend group, "ayt, kiddo. i'm gonna leave you now, don't get into trouble or i'll rip your hair out." she said in a sweet tone, kissing the side of my head. she then walked away, leaving me dumbfounded. i blinked a few times before going to find my friends, "how the actual hell is she my sister.." i mumbled to myself.

"hey hoes!" you greeted your friends, jumping on lisa's lap. "hey, y/n~" they replied. "what's going on today? anything spicy?"

"fuck yeah, chanyeol and seungwan's hourglass ran out and their marks glowed. then seungwan full on slapped his hourglass out of his hand. the shit broke and now,, no soulmates for them! man, i wonder which one of them dies.." namjoon said, gesturing. my eyes widened, "wait– what? what do you mean?" they all laughed at me, "awh, y/n's still a baby. when your hourglass gets broken on purpose by your own soulmate, then poof, you won't have a soulmate." jaehyun explained. "oh! and one of them dies. most likely," chaeyeon continued, excitedly.

"i- diES??" i asked. "yes, y/n, dies." lisa said, holding your waist. "hoLD THE FUCK UP, SINCE WHEN? AND HOW ARE YA'LL SO CHILL ABOUT THIS??" i asked, freaking out. they shrugged, "meh, i mean, we all die some day?" yoongi replied, chewing on his food. "bRUH, one of them is about to fuCKING DIE! they're like my best friends too, you know!"

"welp, go and.. spend time with them then, i don't know–" the bell rang and they all scattered to class. lisa and i sat there, me still trying to process everything. "y/n/n, you good?"

"lisa, i'm so gonna die." i said, blankly, making her laugh. "oh shut up, i bet you and your soulmate will live happily every after, now come on." she stood up and held her hand out for me, i grabbed it and we walked to science class. lisa and i were babbling on about the other things about soulmates until someone bumped into me.

"dude, watch where the fuck you're go– y/n, y/n, y/n. what a surprise, being a clumsy ass all the time." jisoo smiled, making me roll my eyes. "for your information, you were the one who bumped into me?" i replied, making her scoff. "talking back? kinda new from the bae y/n, what made you–"

"jisoo, stop. she doesn't have time to deal with your bullshit." lisa said, cutting her off. "come on, lisa. we're just having some fun, right, y/n?" she replied, shoving me. "ayt, that's it–" i was about to jump her until lisa pulled me back and our discipline teacher, ms choi came around the corner. "miss bae, miss kim. are you two really doing this again?"

"i- miss choi, i was just messing around with y/n, but she was being a sensitive brat and started to jump at me–" miss choi, sighed. "can you two stay away from each other for a while? it's only monday and i really don't have the energy to deal with you two right now."

the three of us bowed as she walked away. "that's it, bae. it's simple, stay away from me and we both get out of trouble." jisoo smiled. "i hate you so much, kim." i replied, making her giggle. "trust me, y/n. if i told you i hated you with everything in me, that would still be an understatement." she walked into class while i stood there, pissed. "brUH, WHY THE FUCK DOES SHE EXIST–" lisa shushed you, "be quiet and calm down, okay?"

"how the actual fuck am i supposed to calm down? she's so fucking annoying and ugh!" i complained. "y/n, hush. you can be just as annoying" i scoffed at her, "hOW? ME? AS ANNOYING AS KIM JISOO? pFFT YOU'RE FUNNY" she rolled her eyes at me as we walked in the classroom.

jisoo and i had quite a lot of history with each other. our parents were good friends, which resulted in both of our families spending a lot of time with each other. having dinners, having to sleepover at jisoo's house, her having to sleepover at my house, and just everything. but jisoo and i never got along, we would always quarrel and yell at each other. i tried my best to be friendly with her as our parents really wanted the two of us to get along. but the older girl made it so hard for me. she'd tease me, hurt me, make fun of me and would just be a whole brat.

unfortunately, the devil herself was seated behind me, so we spent the whole lesson bickering and dissing each other. "bruh~ can you like shut up for like 5 minutes?" i asked, making her flick the back of my head. "i should be saying the same to you, asshole."

—— no one's pov

"when are you gonna stop lying to yourself, unnie?" jennie asked jisoo as she was eating her lunch. "lying? about what?" she replied, her mouth full of food. "you. you like y/n," jennie continued, making jisoo choke on her food. "okay, i'm sorry, wHAT- aRE YOU STUPID? I'D NEVER LIKE THAT RAT, SHE'S DISGUSTING, BROKE, UNHYGIENIC, UG-"

"you're being too defensive, it's obvious now. you have feelings for bae y/n." seokjin teased, wiping his mouth. "i don't know how i'm friends with you idiots, i do not like bae y/n. in fact, i despise her. hate her, even. she's such a brat and if you think i'd have feelings for someone like her, you're stupid. my standards are not that low, got it?"

they all rolled their eyes, shaking their head. "what ever you say, noona, whatever you say." johnny replies.

"we were born the same year, why are you calling me noona-"

the bell rang and they all scattered off to class. "unnie, do you have your hourglass yet?" rosé asked, making jisoo nod. "i'm a year older than you, i'm already 19, kiddo." chaeyoung squinted her eyes, "so you've been waiting to meet your soulmate for over a year? yikes," jisoo smacked her head, "oh be quiet, i'm sure i'll meet them soon."

"who do you think it's gonna be?" chaeng asked. "do you think i know? there's over 7 billion people on this earth, how am i supposed to take a hunch and guess who it is?" jisoo replies, making rosé hold her hands up. "okay, okay, jeez, calm down~"

"see you after class, weirdo" the younger girl said, walking into her classroom. jisoo continued walking and saw you. she decided it was a good idea to fuck around with you a little, so she walked behind you and pinched your waist. you jumped in pain and turned around, "dude, what the fuck?"

jisoo smiled, bitterly before walking into the classroom. you groaned and did the same thing. you were walking to your seat until jaehyun stopped you and grabbed your wrist, "y/n/n, you turn 18 in 2 days, correct?" he asked, making you nod. "yes? why~?"

"hourglass." he simply replied and winked, before letting your wrist go. you looked at him weirdly and laughed. you got to your seat and glared at jisoo. you sat down and immediately got bothered by her. "jesus, when will you stop?!"

⌨︎︎ one day after

the day went by and the both of you hated each other even more.

thooouughhhhh, you do have a soft spot for the so-called brat. as much as you wanted to deny it, she was gorgeous and at times could be nice.

the day of school ended and you and your friends went over to your house to celebrate your 18th birthday. "y/n's gonna get her hourglass in exactly 7 hours, holy shit." jaehyun said, being dramatic. "oh, shut up." all 6 of you went over to your house, with their stuff to sleepover. "ayt, 6 hours and 35 minutes." jaehyun said, looking at his watch. "jUNG JAEHYUN, SHUT UP. I GET IT" you said pretending to cry. the others laughed, patting your back.

in the house with you, were

lisa, jaehyun, namjoon, chaeyeon and yoongi.

"okay we're gonna go downstairs, stay here for everlasting life." lisa, chaeyeon and yoongi ran downstairs leaving you with joon and jaeyuk.

"i have a feeling y/n's soulmate's gonna be a gORL" jaehyun said out of nowhere. "i- why so suddenly?" you asked, pretending to cry again. "i don't know, man. you kinda gay." he continued.

"okay, it's official. i'm disowning jaehyun." you said, sitting away from him. namjoon stood up and sat back down next to you, "i'm with you on that"

"i'm- come on, dudes! y/n is kinda gay."

"no you"

mEaNwHiLe~

chaeyeon, lisa and yoongi were attempting to bake a cake for y/n. notice how i said attempting.

"uhh.. 5 1/4 cups of flour." lisa said, staring at her phone and pouring the flour in the bowl.

"you mean 2?" yoongi asked.

"huh?"

"2 1/4 cups of flour." he replied.

"oh.. well shit."

"LISA-"

"i'M SORRY, I THOUGHT-"

"iDIOT"

"YOU SHOULD'VE TOLD ME SOONER-"

"ladies, ladies! let's settle this in an orderly manner, alright?" chaeyeon said, holding them both back. "did you just call me a lady-"

"yOU DILDOS, ITS CHAOS DOWN HERE. HURRY THE FUCK UP AND GEt yOUR SHIT TOGETHER! Y/N IS SUFFERING WITH JAEHYUN, SPARE HER" namjoon shouted, scolding them.

"SIR, YES, SIR!" they all shouted in unison, saluting. "that's better, now get to work!" namjoon ran back upstairs, going into your room. "back~ they just needed some adjustments."

"what are they doing anyways?" you asked. "honestly, i have no clue. but you'll find out later."

"wow, okay-"

"hm, yeah, definitely gay."

"jaehyun, if you call me gay one more time, i will slap the remaining brain cells out of your brain."

"the birthday girl is being so aggressive, sheesh." jaehyun said, shaking his head. "you two are kids, my god"

——

"5 MINUTES! 5 FUCKING MINUTES!" jaehyun yelled, making all of you laugh. you spent the last few hours bickering and playing games with your friends. lisa, yoongi and chaeyeon ran back downstairs as the clock was about to turn 12.

they came back with a cake, surprising you. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1, haPPY BIRTHDAY, Y/N!" they yelled, making you smile widely. "bLOW, mAKE A WISH." you closed your eyes and made a wish.

'i wish to be able to live a happy life with my soulmate.'

*blow*

"YAY!"

^dING DONG*

"tHATS HER HOURGLASS" jaehyun screamed. "gET DOWN THERE."

you ran downstairs and opened your front door. you were immediately greeted by a small box with your initials on it. you picked it up and ran back upstairs. "OOH, OOH OPEN IT!"

you opened the box and pulled your sacred hourglass out. "AWH, IM SORRY, Y/N. WE AREN'T SOULMATES" lisa apologised, making you laugh. "welp, i guess we gotta wait." all of you decided to call it a night – after eating the cake. obviously.

⌨︎︎ the day after y/n's pov

the six of us reached school together, bickering on the way. "oh, y/n/n, did you bring your hourglass today?" yoongi asked, making me shake my head. "no– should i have?"

"who knows? you might meet your soulmate at school. your mark only glows when you have your hourglass, mate. your soulmate might meet you and their mark glows, but then their hourglass is still going cuz you don't have yours. selfish rat." jaehyun replied, smacking my head.

"i'm- why the fuck am i only learning about this?"

"because you're uncultured, now let's get to class."

i was walking with lisa and jaehyun to our english class when someone pulled me back. "well if it isn't the birthday girl, happy birthday, sweetheart" jisoo smiled at me, making me roll my eyes. "thanks? but did you just-"

"i'm kidding, bae. i couldn't care less about your birthday and you are definitely not a sweetheart. i'm just excited for you to meet your soulmate and die."

"what the fuck is wrong with y-"

"fuck-" "ouch-"

jisoo and i yelled in pain at the same time. i looked down to my wrist and saw my mark glowing a bright white through my shirt, while jisoo looked at her waist, the same thing happening to her.

we then looked at each other in horror,

"nonono"

"wait, what the fuck"

jisoo rummaged through her bag finding her hourglass, "it's still running. why is my mark glowing"

i suddenly remembered what my friends had told me,

'you might meet your soulmate at school. your mark only glows when you have your hourglass, mate. your soulmate might meet you and their mark glows, but then their hourglass is still going cuz you don't have yours. selfish rat.'

'nonono, there's no fucking way that jisoo is my soulmate' i thought, panicking.

"where's your hourglass." jisoo asked, strictly. "a-at home." i replied. jisoo looked around to see if anyone else's marks were glowing. to her luck, there were two other people, looking just as shocked and confused as we were.

my sister joohyun and seokjin. "wait-"

"nah, look man. there's no way we're soulmates, i'm gay as fuck"

"w-wait, my hourglass is still going. and come on, lady, look at me. i'm gorgeous, hot, sexy. you're lucky if you had me as a soulmate." jin replied, pointing at himself.

"bae! kim! over here!" jisoo yelled, making them look at the both of us. seeing that we were in the same situation, they ran over. "okay, so there might be a small, itty bitty possibility that we have our soulmates mixed up right?" jisoo asked, making irene nod. "i mean, i guess, but the possibilities are that you're soulmates with y/n/n, jin or me. and the possibilities with jin are the same. y/n and i only have two possibilities because we're siblings"

"unless the world wants us to make incest a thing" i replied, smirking at her. she smacked my head, making me yelp. "ah! jeez, i was kidding, you rat"

"if it's jin and me, why haven't our hourglasses run out yet?" jisoo asked.

"but if it's me and irene, why haven't ours run out yet?"

"uh- you see.. my sister and i have a thing for leaving things at home – even when we're supposed to bring them.." she replied.

i shook your head, still processing everything.

"jesus, typical baes. bring your hourglasses tomorrow and we'll meet at the bleachers at exactly 8:40 am, you got it?" jisoo demanded, shocking all of you. "wow, ms bossy pants"

"shut the fuck up, y/n. my life is already ruined knowing that there's a slight chance that you're my soulmate." she hissed before walking away to class.

"weLL OUCH"

——

i did the same thing, walked to class with jaehyun and lisa babbling about what just happened. "yo, what the fuck do i do?" i asked panicking. "nothing, you're just gonna hope that your soulmate is jin or joohyun-"

"JIN, JUST JIN."

"yeah whatever."

after school ended, my sister and iwent back home babbling about our possible soulmates and kinda just fell asleep.

the next thing i knew, it was the next day and i had to get ready and bring our hourglasses.

"ayt, bleachers, bleachers, bleachers. FOUND THEM." we walked over to the bleachers with jisoo glaring at the both of us. "you're two minutes late."

"i- BRUH WHAT THE FUC-"

"both of you better shut up before i make you. it's so early in the morning, please don't argue now." right on cue, all our marks started glowing, making the four of us yelp in pain. in a hurry, i took your hourglass out, seeing it had just finished. i looked at all three of them seeing that the same happened to them. "ugh, how the fuck do we figure this out now?" jin asked.

"uh, okay. jin, go to the other side of the field with y/n and i go with irene. if our marks stop glowing, then we aren't with our soulmates, okay?" jisoo demanded, making us nod. seokjin grabbed my hand, running to the other side. i blushed slightly, kind of hoping that my soulmate was him. we reached the other side of the football field, panting. jin still hadn't let go of my hand. we both looked at our marks, the light slowly fading away. jin and i sighed at the same time, "listen, y/n. we might not be soulmates, but i kind of wished that were. whoever has you as his or her soulmate is lucky – i kinda wanna be jisoo right now" he laughed. i giggled, squeezing his hand, "i'm thinking the same thing, jinnie. but fuck, i'm gonna have to live with jisoo? my god" the both of us laughed at each other running back to the others. "well.. uhm.. i guess y/n and i are gonna do the same.." jisoo said, avoiding eye-contact. i nodded, awkwardly as irene and jin started to run away. jisoo and i walked to the other side, quietly. i grabbed her wrist before she could walk any further, "what do you wan-"

"why do you hate me so much? what did i ever do to you? all i've ever done was try to be your friend, why is that so bad?" i asked, angrily. she looked at me, shocked. i've never actually yelled at her before, so this might've been a shock to her. "i-i'm.. just shut up." she grabbed my hand and dragged me to the other side of the field. "jisoo, i mean it. we might be soulmates, you're gonna have to stop being an asshole to me sometime soon."

she ignored me and just kept walking, i sighed and let her drag me. at this point, we were on the other side, and our glows continued glowing. we looked at our hourglasses, seeing it was still the same state, it finished running. we looked at each other in fear,

"w-we're.. we're soulmates, jisoo." i whispered. she stood there, staring at your marks and hourglasses. "nono.. t-this.. it can't be. y/n, i can't fucking do this–"

"jisoo, you have no choice–"

"but i do" she said, confusing me. "j-jisoo?"

"FUCK, Y/N. THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!" she screeched, slapping my hourglass onto the floor. in almost slow motion, i watched it shatter, all the sand spilling everywhere. "JISOO-" before i could do anything, my mark started glowing a bright red, it felt like someone was burning me while sticking a knife into my stomach. i fell onto the floor, shocking jisoo. "oh my god, y/n!" she shouted, rushing to your side. "fuck, fuck, fuck. are you okay?" she asked, making me scoff. "r-really? you're gonna ask me if i'm okay? you literally just killed me. you fucking killed me, i'm gonna die because of your childishness and your stupid hatred towards me!" i yelled, the pain on my stomach eating me up. irene and seokjin started running towards us, "what the fuck?! what the fuck just happened?!" joohyun asked, obviously worrying about me. she looked down at the shattered glass and then looked back up at jisoo, "you did this, didn't you? huh?! you broke my sister's hourglass?! do you fucking know what's going to happen to her?! what the fuck is wrong with you!" she screamed, pushing jisoo harshly. jin pulled her back, trying to calm her down, "i-i'm–"

the bell then rang, making jisoo run off. irene and jin helped me stand up, i looked down at my hourglass sadly. "how long do i have left?" i asked, weakly. "u-usually around a week.." jin replied, sadly. "no, NO! there must be a way to fix it! y/n, you can't fucking die" irene said, tearing up slightly. i chuckled, "it's fine, unnie. i still have a week." she smacked my head, "don't joke around! you're gonna- no, you're not. i swear i'm gonna kill h-"

"no, no, you aren't. she doesn't want me as her soulmate and i understand that." i replied calmly. "y/n, because of her selfish ass, you're dying. i'm not letting you just– fuck. let's just get to class"

no ones pov

the whole day was spent with your friends crying and getting pissed by jisoo. jisoo avoided you the whole day, not even looking at you. the next day of school was just as sad and pathetic, but jisoo was regretting it. so bad.

"guys, there's gotta be a way to undo it. there fucking has to. i-i can't let her die.." jisoo said, crying in her hands. "unnie, why did you do it in the first place?" jennie asked, kind of angry at her older friend. "i-i.. thought that it would make my feelings go away, make me braver.. but it's just killing me inside. i love her and i don't know what to do."

right at that moment, you walked into the cafeteria weakly, holding onto lisa for support. jisoo immediately stood up and ran to you. "y/n!" she engulfed you into a tight hug, making lisa push her away. "what the fuck do you think you're doing?! do you think you can just do that after what you did to her?!"

"i- look, i need to talk to her"

"jisoo, back off. you've caused enough damage and now we're about to lose our friend." yoongi said, calmly. "guys, it's fine. let us talk.." you replied, quietly. the kim silently thanked you, grabbing your hand and bringing you somewhere private.

"talk." you said, strictly. "y/n, you have no idea how sorry i am. the whole thing was just me trying to show myself that i was strong, but it just made me feel and look like a coward. y/n, i love you. i really do and i'm sorry i wasn't able to let you know. i'm trying to do everything i can to fix it, i'm so so sorry, please forgive me"

"jisoo, i'm.. i have 4 days left. we've looked everything up and there's no way to fix it as of now. i- i'm not gonna say i forgive you, but.. i kind of do? i don't know. it's all good–"

"y/n, you're dying. it's not fucking okay! and it's all my fault, i'm- i won't- i can't live without you." you chuckled, making her look up at you. "jisoo, hush. i'm the one who can't live without you,, literally. till then.. let's uhm, have 4 days together?"

"not just 4 days, y/n-"

"jisoo, you need to understand that that's all i have left. there's not possible way to.. un-kill me.. lmao i'm funny." you giggled, making her smack your arm. "y/n! stop joking around! i-i'm gonna find a way, i-i promise."

"as i said a second ago–"

"ayt, talk's over. talk.. later or something, we're going to class." lisa said, dragging you. "b-but we have the same classes–" you started, but lisa ignored you and continued to drag you. "lisa–"

"bye jisoo~" she said, not looking back. the day was spent by lisa dragging you away from jisoo, which kind of irritated you, but you just brushed it off.

the few days after, you were just being your usual and cheerful self, also being able to talk to jisoo. our friend groups kinda merged into one after the two of you kept spending time with each other. "ayt, imma head home." you said, making everyone groan. "no~ just stay for a bit longer." mingi whined. you laughed at him and stood up, "i'll see you guys tomorrow." you said, smiling at them weakly.

'there is no tomorrow' you thought.

"yeah, okay. see you tomorrow, y/n/n! we all love you~ especially jisoo–" johnny said, making jisoo hit his arm. "oh wait, it is true, i don't know why i hit y-"

you kissed the too of jisoo's head, quietly telling her to stop babbling. you hugged and kissed ( cheeks shush ) all of them "bye losers"

"bye~!"

you turned around, grabbing your stuff and rushing off. tears started forming in your eyes knowing that it's your last time seeing them.

during the past few days, you've been trying to be as positive, funny and cheerful as possible. you hoped and wanted it to make your friends forget about your misfortune and short life. tomorrow is your last day, last day of breathing, last day of seeing, last day of hearing, last day of feeling. once tomorrow comes, you will just fade away as if you never existed. your parents and sister knew about it and how you didn't want any of your friends to remember, they respected your wish and kept their lips shut about it.

you arrived at home, your family members immediately bringing you into a tight embrace. "let's get you dressed, sweetie."

you took a shower and got dressed in your favourite hoodie and shorts. your parents and sister teared up whenever they looked at you smiling and laughing, their hearts ached knowing that after tomorrow, they wouldn't be able to hear your adorable and happiness-giving laugh and your beautiful smile that could bring light to universes. once night arrived, they covered you in kisses and showered you with love.

"goodnight, my beautiful star." you father said, caressing your hair as he used to do when you were younger. you smiled at him and held his hand. "goodnight, angel. we'll– we'll see you tomorrow, love." your mother whispered softly, kissing your forehead. "goodnight everyone,, i love you all. so so much" your parents left the room, but your older sister stayed by your side, crying her eyes out. "y/n,"

"unnie, i know. shhh, you'll be fine–" you started, holding her hand. but she cut you off, "no! i won't be okay! y/n, you've been there for me ever since you were born and you complete me. you're my best friend, my baby, my sister. and tomorrow.. i'm gonna lose you forever. do you think i'm gonna be okay after that?!"

tears started building up in your eyes, making you look away. "unnie.. i- i know. i'm so sorry.. i- i don't want to go, you know that. but i'll always be with you. you know that, right?"

"b-but, y/n/n-"

you brought her into a hug, shutting her up. "it's okay.. besides i still have the morning with you–" she slapped your arm, "stop joking around!" you giggled, "yeah okay, now shush and get to sleep."

"goodnight, y/n"

"night, unnie."

—

you woke up, feeling groggy as ever. you slowly got up, making sure not to hurt yourself even more. "morning, loser" your sister greeted, making you flinch in shock. "iM- SINCE WHEN WERE YOU HERE"

"i was waiting for you to get up,, i don't wanna leave without seeing you awake" irene said, sadly. you took her hand and made her look at you, "you've been the greatest sister and best friend i could ever ask for. i love you and i'm always gonna be here with you, now go before you're late for school." she kissed your forehead, caressing your hair. "i love you so much, you loser. take care of me and yourself up there, ayt?"

you nodded, holding your tears back. irene pulled away, walking out of your room. you sighed and went over to spend some time with your parents.

——

the second irene stepped into school, she ran where your friends wouldn't be able to find her. she spent the whole day avoiding them, until the end of the day.

joohyun was sneaking out of school, until your friends finally found her. they crowded her, asking where you were. she started panicking and was having a hard time thinking of an excuse, "uhh.. she's.. just sick. don't worry about it." she replied, making jisoo's brain start working. "FUCK" she pushed everyone out of the way, getting into her car. "fuckfuckfuck, y/n, fuck!"

[  that sounds wrong :(  ]

she punched her steering wheel, before speeding off to your house. ,,,

she ran to your door, knocking aggressively. your mother opened the door, her eyes swollen, not knowing who it was, "may i help y-"

"jisoo?"

she observed her godmother, confused as ever, but she let it slide as she needed to see you. "miss bae, please let me see y/n, i-i found a way!" she pleaded, making your mum look at her sadly. "l-look, jisoo–"

"hyeri, let the girl in." your father spoke, making the mentioned lady look back. she nodded and opened the door wider. "thank you so much!" jisoo replied. she ran to your room, opening the door. "y/n, i found a w–"

her heart dropped and stopped when she saw you laying on the bed, pale as ever. "y/n, hey." she said, running to your side and holding your cold hand. your eyes opened slowly, smiling as you saw the girl next to you. "j-jisoo, hey"

"y/n.." she started, tears beginning to form and fall from her eyes. "i-i.. i love you." you whispered, making jisoo shake her head. "nonono, y/n, stop! i-i found a way, i just need some time–" you laughed at her, weakly. "that's one thing i don't have, chu. time. i only have a little bit until–"

"y/n, no! please, i-i swear. i'm gonna–"

"you know one thing i love about us?" you asked, "n-no.." she replied. "how we always cut each other off. it's kinda cute"

she giggled, making you smile. "jisoo, i don't want you to do anything. just.. stay here with me, okay?" she looked at you with such intent, everything she wanted, she needed, she loved, was right in front of her eyes, and she was about to witness her wither away. "o-okay.."

the two sat in silence for two minutes before y/n spoke up. "i love you, jisoo. i forgive you, you know that, right?"

the mentioned girl then broke down, shocking you. "h-hey, i'm sorry, i didn't–" the older girl placed her lips onto yours, spilling at the sadness and pain into the kiss. you kissed back, you smiled slightly, glad that you were able to share your last moments with your soulmate. you pulled away when you felt your mark stinging, "j-jisoo, i-i love y-you–" you squeezed her hand, smiling.

"no, y/n, no.. please no, y/n" she pleaded, holding your hand. your grip started loosening, making her onto you tighter. "baby, no. y/n, h-hey. stay with me. hey"

your eyes started to feel heavy and everything was fading away. "i love you" you whispered, before you took your last breath and your time had come. your hand let go of jisoo's, making her panic. "no, baby, please no," she cried,

your parents heard her sobs, making them barge into the room. their hearts dropped and your father immediately brought your mum into his arms as she sobbed, "my angel, my beautiful angel"

"y/n, please. come back.." she sobbed.

"i love you too"

[straightouttaneptune]

Opposites attract

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Slytherin!Reader, Platonic!Blaise Zabini x reader, Draco Malfoy x Pansy Parkinson, Platonic!Draco Malfoy x reader (The reader is race-neutral!)

Warning: I think there’s a couple swear words, uhh if you’re in love with Draco you probably shouldn’t read this, there is not a single sentence in this fic where Draco and Y/N are any more than friends. Actually, Y/N will commit an act of violence against him. (Don’t do this to your friends)

Summary: Blaise notices that his best friend, Y/N is different the second he sees her again after Summer break. You are a full-fledged pure-blood Slytherin, but during Summer, you got your heart stolen by a certain muggle-born Gryffindor.

A/N: I am OBSESSED with Gryffindor x Slytherin trope, I’m so sorry I will write a reader who’s in Hufflepuff soon! Also, I love Blaise Zabini? He deserves love :/ He a true King in this fic. Oh and Y/N & Hermione are a power couple who eat men ok cool happy reading!!

—————————————————————

It was a quiet evening in the Slytherin common room. The white noise of the light rain present, but none of you could see, for the Slytherins belonged in the dungeons.

You had your head rested on the lap of Blaise Zabini, your best friend, and your legs over the lap of Draco Malfoy. You wouldn’t say he was your best friend, per se- you didn’t always like how he acted. You thought of him more like a brother, in a way. An annoying brother, no less.

But while your friends engaged in some deep conversation about whatever they talked about, your mind was elsewhere. Since last week, you’ve been lost in the curious world of a strange muggle book titled “pride and prejudice”. You picked the damned book up every time you had some spare time.

“What’s this then? Never seen it before.” You recall 2 weeks ago, laying by the old oak tree of the city park, the bushy leaves shielding you from the blinding sunlight.

“You’ve never seen a book before?” She teases, playful laughter filling the crisp summer air.

“You know what I mean! C’mon, read to me.” You look up at her, sitting down with her back pressed against the tree. Her face was covered with the red cover of the book, but you could swear that what you were seeing deserved to be drawn on canvas and presented in museums. Her golden curls looked as if they were lighting up under the sun, her soft yet strong hands curling around the spine of the book.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife-”

Blaise also had a book opened in his hand, but he was not reading- he was listening in on Draco and Pansy’s conversation. Also glancing down and seeing you smile to yourself, for whatever reason. It could have been the book, but he doubted it.

And even though this was the first day back to Hogwarts, he knew that you were very different from who you were when he waved goodbye to you before summer break.

First of all, you never read muggle books. You were the eldest child of one of the most pure bloodlines to exist. Your family were very close with the Malfoys, the Blacks, and obviously the Dark Lord. Anyone would expect you to grow up hating muggles, and... in all honesty, Blaise thought you did.

But then why didn’t you say anything few hours earlier when Granger bumped into you on the train? A witty quip about her blood, perhaps? But nothing. And why in the world did you have a Jane Austen story in your hand?

Despite the multiple questions looming over his head, Blaise had a theory. So now, he wanted to see. Test you, on how you’d react to another one of Draco’s degrading talks about “muggles” you recently seemed to take an interest to.

“God, those mud-bloods infuriate me. And what’s Dumbledore thinking, opening a class of ‘Muggle Studies?’ What a pathetic excuse for a school.” Draco said quite loudly for the whole common room to hear, looking behind him and at first-year Slytherins as if to get them to agree with him. They nod out of fear, but Blaise can see it’s poisoning their unbiased minds already.

Great. More racism. He’s never been a big fan of it.

Just when Blaise turned back around to pretend to stare at his book once more, you quickly stood up from your place in his lap, and smacked your hard-covered book over Draco’s head. The first years jump and gasp from utter and complete shock.

...Ouch. Blaise doesn’t know if he should be happy he was right about something being up with you, or stop you from killing Malfoy.

“What in the- What is your problem, Y/L/N??!” Draco stands up too and glares at you in an accusatory manner, hand flying up to the back of his head. His tall figure looms over your head, his eyes burning with confusion and rage. But you’re not afraid. Quite the opposite.

“Don’t you dare talk about muggles like that ever again, Draco. You know I’ve never liked it when you used that word.” You point your halfway closed book into his chest, the corner digging into his neatly ironed shirt.

“What? You’ve never hit me over something as little as this? What’s wrong with you, Y/L/N?” Draco questions loudly, the irritation in his voice evident. Pansy stands up as well, linking her arms with the Blond, and glaring at you up and down.

“You’ve been acting strange all day, Y/N. Blaise, say something!” All three of you looks over to Blaise, who was nonchalantly pretend reading his book, unmoving from his place on the couch.

“What? So Y/N can’t hit Malfoy with a book now? She’s done it before.” He looks up and locks eyes with Pansy, “I don’t give a fuck” written all over his face.

“That’s not the point! Why is she so angry over filthy Mudbloods?” Pansy retorts, but as soon as the last word left her lips, you raised your brows at her warningly.

“Don’t. Use. That. Word. Why does bloodline matter? We all bleed red, for Merlin’s sake!” You huff, whirling around to get yourself out of this godforesaken dungeon. Blaise gives a playful salute and trails closely behind, leaving behind the pure-blooded idiots and follows you towards the Gryffindor common room.

“Will you tell me, though? Y/N, what happened during summer?” Blaise stops you just in front of the portrait of the fat lady, and you’re forced to look at your best friend’s curious expression.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” You sighed, knowing you would have to tell your best friend if he wanted to come with you. He nods sincerely, although there is a twinkle in his eyes that lets you know he’s enjoying this.

“I fell in love with someone. A muggle-born.”You confess, your cheeks burning like a 1,000 degree flame just by admitting that.

“A muggle-born??” Blaise’s brows shot up to his hairline, his brilliantly talented imagination already making up a scene of you getting disowned by your parents.

“Wait...” his gaze glides past you and at something behind you. “Does it happen to be Granger?”

Your eyes grow wide as a plate, and you almost break your neck from how quickly you turned around. Hermione, Harry and Ron stood there, the door to the Gryffindor common room wide open.

“There was a Slytherin alert. Uhm, Fred and George. Not us.” Harry tries to explain, looking over at Ron for some assistance, but he just stays in place. Wether it’s from shock or fear, you couldn’t tell.

“You... fell in love?” Hermione looks directly into your eyes, as if everything that wasn’t you didn’t exist to her. She climbs out of the entryway, taking a few steps over towards you.

“Uh- I did. Over the summer.” Guessing you didn’t have much other choice than to admit it, you stood your ground and focused on her sharp brown eyes you’d come to adore.

“You did.” Hermione repeated, stunned from the looks of it.

“I did.”

“So did I.”

“You did?”

“I did.”

“Oh bloody hell, just admit you love each other and move on.” Ron teased from a few feet behind, comfortable now that he saw who he originally thought was a Slytherin nightmare act so awkward and giddy.

Hermione glared at him threateningly, and so Harry wordlessly pulled him and Blaise into the Gryffindor common room. Before entering, Harry almost forcefully rips off the cloak from Blaise, still skeptical of the Slytherin always hanging around Draco Malfoy.

“Right. Anyways-“

Before you could say anything, Hermione hurriedly pressed her lips against yours, her cheeks tinting rose from a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. She’d never done something like this before. She feels like she can hear her heart beating rapidly in her ears, which can’t be normal, but she thinks it feels right.

You feel like getting wrapped into a cloud of euphoria as she deepens the kiss, your hands finding their place on her cheeks. The book clatters on the crème stone floor, but neither of you pay it any mind. Luckily, not one soul is walking around the halls at this hour, everyone getting settled into each their dorms. But you don’t even think about that, for your mind is filled with her, and only her.

After pulling away, Hermione chuckles at your surprised look, mumbling a little “You’re blushing, Y/N.” Before pulling you into her chest for a hug.

You return the gesture without hesitation, grinning from ear to ear and whispering back, “So are you.”

“Come on, we’ll have butterbeer inside. Take your cloak off and hide the tie. I’ll bring my jacket.” Hermione laughs nervously, and looks back at who she swears is the most beautiful girl in the world. Never had she thought she’d get her heart stolen by a Y/L/N, even in an alternate universe, or in a dream.

But she takes your hand, and pulls you into the common room, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

[writingwithcolor]

Patrilineal Jewish girl, Sephardic culture

@feminismandsunflowers said:

hi! my character is a patrilineal Jewish girl in the usa, she didn't convert but still considers herself Jewish. her mom is Christian. her g-grandmother/father were undocumented refugees from Europe (antisemitism) and her g-grandmother was v closed off abt her origins but my character's dad thinks she said something abt being Sephardic. her fam has a fair amount of Sephardic culture. but could she claim Sephardic culture to any extent if they don't know? trynna get a handle on how to present her.

"My character's dad thinks she said something about being Sephardic"

and

"her fam has a fair amount of Sephardic culture"

are inconsistent statements. 

The first statement sounds like the only indication Dad has of which Jewish culture they are is a statement he's not even sure about ("thinks"?) and the second statement sounds like Dad considers himself Sephardic and practices Sephardic traditions.

So, to me personally, this would depend on the level of Sephardic cultural practice she grew up with. If she grew up with those traditions and Dad sharing them with her, then yes, that's who she is. If Dad isn't even sure he's Sephardic and what she practiced in her upbringing wasn't distinctively Sephardic in any way, I have a hard time seeing why she should claim the culture if she's not even sure if her ancestors were Sephardic.

Disclaimer that the Reform position is to 'count' patrilineal Jewish people as long as they were raised in the traditions. This is not the Orthodox position but I am Reform.

--Shira

I'm also a bit confused about this situation. I think it would be helpful if you start by specifying where in Europe the family comes from and what anti-Semitism they were fleeing from. I'm Ashkenazi and not the most knowledgeable about Sephardi history, but as far as I know it wouldn't make sense for a Sephardi family to be seeking asylum from the pogroms in Russia or Poland, for example. I guess it could make sense if they were from Spain, France or Italy, but we would have to know more, and I'm wondering if this isn't a 'trace your logic' situation. Why do you want them to come from Europe? *Quickly cracks open a Claudia Roden book* Sephardi Jews have origins in many North African and Middle Eastern countries, such as Morocco, Algeria, Libya, Syria, Iran and Iraq just to give a few examples. If you want Sephardi characters, why not represent those cultures instead of re-hashing the same Euro-centric Jewish stories?   

In terms of whether she could claim Sephardi heritage of any sort if they don't know, I'm interested in what Sephardi followers think. Religion-wise, I don't think there would be too much of a problem with it. Yes, Sephardim are more lenient on some things and stricter on others, so by picking the wrong one she may be following some of the rules wrong, but that's just a matter of tradition really. If someone was a ba'al teshuva and had no way of finding out which population their family came from, I imagine a rabbi would advise to choose one and stick to it without worrying too much about which one. I don't know 100%, though. 

Culture-wise, I don't know if this is what Shira was getting at but I wonder if it would be cultural appropriation due to Ashkenazi Jews being more likely to be white-passing and getting more media representation. Is Jewish lineage enough to claim Sephardi traditions and culture, or do you need to know for sure that you're Sephardi - that will be for Sephardi followers to decide. 

To build on Shira's disclaimer:

I'm Modern Orthodox and I would describe your character as someone who is not halachically Jewish, i.e. not in Jewish law. In most situations, this would be a technicality for me and I wouldn't hesitate to treat her as Jewish if she identifies as such. In particular, with her family history it makes sense that she considers herself ethnically Jewish and the legacy of discrimination is part of her identity - that's not something we can erase or overlook. It would be different if my kid wanted to marry her, I think (not that I ever plan to be one of those parents who would disown their kid or something for marrying out but I'm not going to pretend I completely wouldn't care, either). Then I might be hopeful that she may formally convert, especially if she had always lived as Jewish anyways.

 Other things she may experience if she hangs out in Orthodox circles: a few people might act like jerks and be iffy around her like she's 'not really Jewish', probably the same people who are pro-Trump and mansplain why women's exclusion from parts of Orthodox worship is actually protecting us. On the subject of women's exclusion, if you have any male characters with a similar parental background, they can't get an aliyah in shul or count towards a minyan - the character you're describing couldn't anyway, though. 

Hopefully if your other Jewish characters are nice people, they take to heart the teaching that you should rather throw yourself into a fire than humiliate someone else in public. When I was a student, there was a patrilineal man in our community who once entered the shul just in time to be the tenth man, making a minyan. A Chasidic man in the congregation quickly stood up and said "Oh no, I left the gas on!" and left. That way no one had to make a whole song and dance about the other guy not being allowed to count. Patrilineal Jewish followers, feel free to add more! 

-Shoshi 

I'm going to add some things here, about the terms Sephardi and Ashkenazi, that I think might be partially tripping the author up.

Sephardi and Ashkenazi are terms used to describe the traditions that a person follows. Those traditions are heavily linked to the land where they rose up, and to parentage, as people are typically encouraged to follow the traditions they grew up with. However! Converts exist, and converts are usually encouraged to join in on the traditions in their community. So, as an example, a person can be from anywhere in the world, of any racial or ethnic background, convert in a Conservative synagogue, and follow Ashkenazi traditions. A person can be from a place that is usually seen as very Ashkenazi-heavy, like Germany, and then end up converting in an esnoga (synagogue) in Spain, and practice Sephardic traditions. Either of those converts might have children, and those children will take on their minhagim (traditions), and will be a part of the culture their parents joined just like their parents were.

It can be confusing for many people because the terms are so often conflated with ethnicity, which is in turn conflated with genetic lineage. The trouble is, the groups they describe are older than the modern, western conception of race, and ethnicity,  and we don't completely fit into these categories. Ashkenazi Jews don't all come from Europe, even their ancestors might not. In the US it's been estimated that at least 12-15% of American Jews are Jews of Color, and those JoC are very, very often Ashkenazi. Some converted, some didn't, but they are still following the traditions, and are still Ashkenazi.

So it's fair to say that the traditions of Sephardim grew in the Iberian peninsula, and North Africa, but they also moved along with those Jewish people as they dispersed, and were expelled. Jews from Portugal fled to the Azores, but also to the Netherlands, where there is a large Sephardic presence, right in the middle of a space that is assumed to be all Ashkenazi! Scores of Jewish people from Morocco moved to France. Then too, people marry folks from other groups. Often they will pick one family's traditions to follow, but sometimes they mix and match, and sometimes they end up moving somewhere else and taking on those traditions.

Because so many people have traditions that match their genetic background we've begun using the term Ashkenazi to mean strictly white, European Jewish people. Sephardi we have taken to mean strictly white, Iberian Jewish people (which doesn't even include the massive number of North African Sephardim). We've forgotten entirely to cover Mizrahim (a tradition associated with the Middle East), or the Romaniote, or Cochin Jews, or any number of other groups. Yes, genetic background accounts for a large portion of those people, but it doesn't map completely, and it's important not to forget that.

This complexity is why the statements Shira drew attention to:

"My character's dad thinks she said something about being Sephardic" "her fam has a fair amount of Sephardic culture"

Don't make sense. You would know you are Sephardic, because it's something you do first, and may be, secondarily, directly linked to something in your ancestry.

Finally, since you are showing a patrilineal Jewish person, I really encourage you to show them consistently engaging with their Jewishness, and actively participating in Sephardic culture. I'm the Conservative one here, and my movement, and Sephardi tradition (there are no movements for Sephardim, just varying observance) don't allow patrilineal descent to give a person Jewish status halachically. This is not something I endorse. Patrilineal descendants really struggle outside of Reform communities, to be seen as Jewish, and often to just be treated with respect, so it's important that you give this character every opportunity to participate, and show who they are.

-- Dierdra

[cheryblossomdreams]

A Discussion About Dramione

This is a very difficult ship in the HP fandom, alongside others like Drarry etc.

However, I think there is something to be said for it regardless, since I’ve seen a lot of anti-Dramione content with some valid points and a lot of non valid ones too, so I suppose I’d like a try my hand at rebuking some of them.

1. Dramione shippers romanticize abuse and bullying.

At first glance, it certainly looks that way. Draco Malfoy was a racist, petty, spoiled bully that jumped on every opportunity to bully Hermione Granger and her friends. He is not a good character. In the Dramione fandom, no one claims he is a good character either. Instead, the Dramione fandom recognized the canon potential for change in Draco and uses that to shape their fanfics. The largest majority of the fandom (There do exist those really young fans that don’t quite yet understand everything that will blindly defend him or create extremely problematic fanart, but they are truly a minority) acknowledges entirely all the wrongs Draco has committed, and they are many. Actually, in most Dramione fics, the writers go to great lengths to process the part of DHr’s past that was filled with hatred and insults. You can find examples of this in the fic Measure of a Man by @inadaze22​. Also to the point, most of Dramione fanfiction is written and set in a time many years after the War, after their school years, where they’ve both grown, matured and become adults, changed by time and what they went through, so it is a null point to say Dramione shippers romanticize bullying when their content is almost always set in a time where Draco is no longer a bully and Hermione is no longer a victim.

What the Dramione shippers like to emphasize is the fact that even though Draco used to be a horrible person, he had changed and grown past that, owned up to his mistakes and is now a different man. That’s what the stories they write are about. He had the potential to change already established in canon that he used later through his life to become someone better Hermione could eventually forgive and love.

You’ll be hard pressed to find a Dramione shipper that would say that while they were still in school they should’ve gotten together. Absolutely not. The content most of the Dramione fandom creates is always set post-canon, at a time where Draco’s changed and grown up from who he used to be, and Hermione recognizes his change and forgives him.

She certainly doesn’t have to forgive him, she doesn’t owe him anything, but part of Hermione’s bravery and overall character is that she would have been able to forgive him when she realized he’d changed. Plus, he saved her best friend’s life at a critical point in the war and, even though he did nothing to help her because he literally couldn’t have, which is something I’m pretty sure Hermione would have been grateful for, even a little bit. 

The Malfoy family saved Harry’s life TWICE in HP, in both extremely critical moments in the war (Draco lying at the manor, Narcissa lying to Voldemort), which is something Hermione wouldn’t have been able to just ignore and pretend like it never happened, because that’s not who she is. 

There probably is a very small percent of the Dramione fandom who create problematic content, but every fandom and every ship has toxic shippers, besides they are simply not the majority.

2. Dramione shippers use Hermione to redeem Draco.

The redemption arc Draco got in HP is extremely flimsy at best, especially considering the amount of damage he’d done prior. He saved Harry’s life, yes, but he did nothing to protect either Ron or Hermione, so personally I wouldn’t harp on about that being much of a redemption arc at all. However, I don’t think any Dramione shippers use Hermione to redeem him. In the Dramione content the things he did wrong and the hurt he inflicted is something Hermione recognizes and then, through the story, eventually chooses to leave behind. Besides, she doesn’t have to redeem him, since we know from canon he’d grown out of his beliefs eventually, privately at least if not publicly (more on this later).

3. Draco had a choice in how to act, if he really didn’t believe in blood supremacy.

No, he didn’t. Let me break it down why.

When he was 11 years old and first coming to Hogwarts, he was too young to understand the beliefs his parents ingrained into him were wrong and harmful, he simply didn’t have the mental capacity to comprehend that. He was a child that hung to every word their mom and dad said and he acted accordingly.

As he grew up though, started going through puberty and maturing, he would’ve realized that blood supremacy is wrong. Let’s say this realization came when he was 14. Lucius and Narcissa weren’t with him at Hogwarts, so if he changed his behavior to reflect his new realizations, they wouldn’t have known, right?

WRONG.

Do you really mean to tell me that if Draco Malfoy, only son and sole heir to the Malfoy family, an extremely wealthy, influential family in the Wizarding World and its politics, part of the sacred 28, well respected and with a high status in society, suddenly started being kinder and friendlier to Muggleborns and Halfbloods, people wouldn’t talk? People wouldn’t wonder, get suspicious? That such news wouldn’t reach his father, who’s got eyes and ears everywhere (evident by the fact he was able to bribe someone in Hogwarts to buy his son a position on the Quidditch team). And how do you think Lucius Malfoy, a devout Death Eater, would have reacted to receiving such news? What do you think would have happened to Draco when he came home that summer?

Draco was never abused and I doubt Lucius would start then, but I am positive he would’ve been disowned, for betraying the values his family had upheld for centuries. Lucius is a staunch blood purist and he absolutely would cut all contact with his son (disown him) when news reached him Draco was making nice with Muggleborns and Halfbloods.

And Draco knew this, he knew how strict his father was, he knew how deeply he believed in blood supremacy and he knew the consequences for stepping out of line and being anything less than the perfect son.

What would a 14-year old kid do being disowned? Homeless essentially?

So, even if he had realized the wrongs of his beliefs and renounced them, he couldn’t have done that publicly, and certainly not with Hermione Granger or Harry Potter much less, seeing as Harry Potter is the nemesis of the man his father believes in.

By the time he reaches 15 and 16, Voldemort is already at full power again and living in Draco’s house. Now things get even worse. After Lucius fails to get the Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries, Voldemort decides he has to punish him for his failure by having Draco take the Dark Mark. By this point, Draco had abandoned ideas of blood supremacy, but at this point, what the fuck is he going to do? Refuse The Dark Lord? The Darkest Wizard in all of Wizarding History? The guy who is living in his house AND holds the lives of him AND his entire family hostage? Who could and would murder Draco’s mother and father and Draco himself if Draco disobeyed? The man who murdered a person right on Draco’s kitchen table and had Nagini swallow them whole?

Even if all of that wasn’t true, and it is, how’s a 16 year old kid going to fight off a house full of seasoned Death Eaters, proficient at the Dark Arts who will use Unforgivables on him, plus Voldemort himself, plus a giant terrifying snake?

At that point, Draco is left with literally zero choice but to take the Mark and obey his mission to murder Dumbledore.

He hatches several plots to kill Dumbledore, all of which fail. When they stand at the Astronomy tower, even Dumbledore himself calls all of his plots halfhearted and weak. Dumbledore offers him help, but Draco is very clear in his regret of the things he’d done and the fact there’s no going back now.

‘I have to do this, I have to kill you, or he’s gonna kill me.’

AND

‘What do you know about me? I’ve done things that would shock you.’

(I’m paraphrasing here, these aren’t the exact quotes).

At which point Snape shows up and kills Dumbledore in Draco’s place because of the Vow he made to Narcissa.

Any way you look at it, he really didn’t have any choice, even if he did at some point during school renounce his beliefs and grow past them.

4. He tried to kill Ron.

I’ve seen antis blame Draco for this one, which is a bit ridiculous. He did not. He had madam Rosmerta poison a bottle of wine, which he sent to Horace Slughorn, hoping Slughorn would pass it onto Dumbledore. Filch hadn’t noticed any traces of poison in it, because he is a Squib, he also didn’t doubt a shipment from Rosmerta, and so he just gave it to Slughorn. Slughorn kept it around and then later he was the one to offer Ron a glass of that wine. In Draco’s plan, Ron wasn’t ever even mentioned nor included in any way. It had been an unlucky coincidence for Ron, and Draco couldn’t have possibly known that Slughorn would hold onto the wine, that Ron would ever be around Slughorn OR that Slughorn would offer Ron that same wine. Sufficed to say, Draco never attempted to murder Ronald Weasley.

5. He did nothing while Bellatrix tortured Hermione.

We’ve been over this, what could he have done? He had saved Harry’s life earlier, but that one lie couldn’t of spared Ron or Hermione, their faces were too recognizable, even if Harry’s wasn’t.

A room full of Death Eaters, some of the cruelest, most dangerous ones mind you (Bellatrix Lestrange) and he’d be 17, if I remember correctly, still not even an adult, plus at this point in the war even more powerless (considering the fact the Malfoys had fallen out of favor with Voldemort, evident by the fact Lucius tells Draco that if they deliver Harry Potter to Voldemort, all would be forgiven).

What did you expect him to do? Leap into battle and try to fend off dozens of Death Eaters, effectively betraying the Dark Lord in the process and single-handedly getting his entire family killed, if not even himself?

Would you have done that? No, of course not.

6. Draco Malfoy is not redeemable.

Now Draco’s “redemption arc”, if it can be called that, is a powerful moment but it’s flimsy. JK didn’t really ever intend for him to be redeemed or liked either, but let’s take a look at it anyways.

It is canon that Draco stopped believing in blood supremacy at some point during their school years, though we can’t know exactly when.

How can I say this, when his behavior never indicated that?

Well, I’ve already been over why he couldn’t have suddenly changed his behavior, now let’s go through how I can claim it is canon.

The scene where Draco lies to everyone about Harry’s identity.

That moment could only exist IF Draco didn’t believe in blood supremacy anymore.

Think about it, if Draco was devout to Voldemort and his beliefs like his father, he would have had no problem or conscience to tell everyone ‘Yes, this is Harry Potter, hand him over.’ It would have been favorable to him if Harry died.

And let’s be clear, if Draco had said the truth in that moment, Harry would have died. He was captured, wandless (his is broken, when they escape the Manor he steals Draco’s), Ron and Hermione captured as well, he was entirely helpless and surrounded by powerful Dark Arts wizards and witches who would lead him directly to Voldemort the moment they got confirmation it was indeed him and that would have been it. Voldemort would have killed him. Voldemort would have won.

But that isn’t what happened.

Draco looked at Harry, recognized it was him (evident by a later scene where Harry straight up says that. “Why didn’t you tell her? Bellatrix? You knew it was me, you didn’t say anything.”) and at first, still unsure what to do, asked why Harry’s face was like that, and he’s told Harry just came in like that.

Draco says “I’m not sure.”

At that point Lucius grips him and tells him that if they gave up Harry Potter to Voldemort all would be forgiven, Bellatrix brings him closer to get a second look.

Draco knows all the consequences of what he’s doing at this point, he knows what he’s risking, the literal lives of everyone he loves, and what does he do?

He still lies.

‘I can’t be sure.’

It’s a powerful moment for his character, BUT it’s not enough for redemption. The amount of pain and hatred he’d spewed for 6 years (I say 6 years because The Golden Trio wasn’t attending Hogwarts for year 7) is not redeemed by this one instance. His actions, letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts, likely torturing people on command of the Carrows in 7th year, are not redeemed by this moment, even if he did save Harry’s life.

However, though this instance doesn’t constitute redemption, it is telling of the fact Draco has changed, and changed significantly from the hateful, angry, spoiled, racist brat he used to be, which gives him potential to grow up into a different, better man.

Whether JK intended it or not, the way that was written makes Draco Malfoy more than redeemable, if not for the duration of the books, then later through his life.

Being a horrible person at one point in your life does not make you forever evil, does not mean you can not ever change. To prove this, I’d like to humbly request you to watch this video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SSH5EY-W5oM

Voldemort’s regime is very similar to Hitler’s Nazi movement, so this video is very fitting to my point and HP in general.

Here’s another three:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORp3q1Oaezw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fw0vS0qvYo0&list=TLPQMTcxMjIwMjBZfqJdkbbQJw&index=2

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4gly9n9RBo&list=TLPQMTcxMjIwMjBZfqJdkbbQJw&index=3

If you don’t have time to watch, let me sum it up for you.

The first video chronicles the story of a man who’d been part of the Neo-Nazi movement, managed to leave it behind and become an activist and overall an amazing guy now.

The other three links chronicle the story of Daryl Davis, a black man who’d attended KKK rallies and even met with the Imperial Wizard of the KKK Roger Kelly, somehow despite all odds became friends with him and eventually managed to get through to Roger Kelly to the point where this man (The leader of the KKK on a national scale) stepped down from his position and left the Ku Klux Klan.

That’s real life, something like that happened, truly happened, but Draco Malfoy is irredeemable?

PLUS, Draco is hardly the first case like this.

Take James Potter as an example. James was also a rich, racist, privileged white boy, and a bully. He’d bullied Snape severely, even set up a “prank” with his friends that would lead to Snape getting attacked by a WEREWOLF, putting him in mortal peril, with great potential of killing him, that required then a rescue operation.

James attempted murder, or if you don’t want to go that far, he set up a situation that quite possibly could have gotten someone killed, and he got to mature and grow past his behaviors and redeem himself, fall in love with Lily and have a wonderful son.

Why couldn’t Draco change when James had?

~

In conclusion, I think there’s a big diifference between what the Dramione fandom actually is and what antis think it is. 

The heart of the Dramione fandom is about growing and changing and maturing and forgiving and falling in love despite the differences of the past.

It’s not about romanticizing bullying or toxic relationships, life is not black and white people, people can change and grow from their past actions and people can also forgive and move on. 

There’s plenty of examples in the books of Harry and Ron mistreating Hermione and they all move past those instances (obviously that can’t be compared to what Draco did, I’m just making a point here).

I do acknowledge that the Dramione shippers have some bad apples among them, some problematic people that take it all too far, but honestly, every fandom and every ship has bad, toxic people so you can’t really use that against them.

All in all, things aren’t the way antis always present them, there’s a lot more gray there, and I hope this entirely too long post helped some of y’all see that.

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

Honestly the Supernatural ending was fucked all along, because to have a strong ending, a work has to resolve whatever tensions and questions it set up in the opening – not necessarily in an uncomplicated way, but it has to offer a kind of answer to the fundamental story questions.

The premise set up in The Woman in White is: Sam has a good life, Sam is an up-and-coming guy on his way to happiness and success, but Sam's father is not doing well; Sam is angry at his father, who he remembers as, at best, a habitual drunkard who kept Sam's life in chaos and then disowned him.  So question number one is, given that Sam is better and happier now that he's no longer entangled with his father, should he revisit any of that?  Does he continue to owe his father anything, should he help look for him, should he even care at all that his father might be in trouble?  That feels like a clear no, not really, let John solve his own problems – until Jessica dies in the same way Mary did, and that introduces a twist.  Has Sam actually misunderstood who his father was?  Does John know, has John all along known something that Sam needs to know about his own past, that he can't live his happy life until he understands?  The search for John is now about not just “does Sam owe his family anything?” – it's about “does Sam need his family?”  And there's a plot resonance, but also a thematic resonance there: do you need your family?  Even if your family's pretty fucked up?  Does going back to your unhappy childhood serve some necessary function on your road to a successful adulthood?  Can you pretend forever that you don't come from the fucked-up place you come from, or do you actually have to go back and understand the truth about who your parents were because the past is never just the past?  

So the early seasons are largely about answering that question, through the vehicles of Sam, who would prefer not to admit that his fucked-up past can't really be run away from, and Dean, who would prefer not to admit that there was anything fucked-up about his past at all.  Both of them learn and change: Sam begins to understand where he really comes from and why he can't separate himself from the forces that made him, and Dean begins to understand that yeah, actually, he should separate himself a lot more from the forces that made him, that it's foolish to hold up his father as some kind of infallible god, because even God isn't that. All the stories that spin out in the early seasons about Earth as the cosmic battleground for the family strife between Michael and Lucifer are linked to the pilot by that question: is there any escaping the reach of your family and its history?  And the show decides, yeah, we have free will, we shouldn't just lie down and die because that's our inheritance.  We should change the script.  We can be better than our parents were.  Better than we were ordered or prophesied to be.  And the clear mechanism for all of this is love: Sam falls to Lucifer's influence when he's rejected again (Dean following in John's footsteps), but Sam is able to shake off that demonic control long enough to thwart Lucifer because Dean loves him and accepts him and remains with him when it looks like it's too late to save him (the thing John never did, couldn't do).  Dean changes the script by being more able to love Sam unconditionally than John could, and the basic question of the premise is answered: you do have to go back to your family – not to accept or replicate their mistakes, but to do better, to love them better this time.  You have to heal from the root.  As a viewer, you can accept or reject this resolution; I personally like it, but I'm from that same cultural background, I have a family history that vibes with the things the show is discussing, I'm primed to like and agree with the conclusion.  Maybe you're not, and that's okay!  The point is, it is a conclusion to something.  The show asked questions and then provided answers.

The problem is...the show answered its own questions in 5 seasons, and in such a way that the naturally satisfying conclusion was – literally anything else except more hunting.  You can't say the Big Answer is loving and forgiving your family in spite of their flaws, and then also say that what you want to do with your life is The Family Business just as your father practiced it.  Once you say that the prescription is to heal at the root, something should change.  And it doesn't, really, because the show can't change.  It has a formula.  It's about hunting.  Dean can't give up violence and become a family man, even though that's been clearly established as something he'd be better and happier doing.  Sam can't pursue any dreams that weren't the dreams his father had for him, even though that's been clearly established as the thing he's been willing to fight for all along.  So if the show isn't going to be over, they both have to actively choose to go against their own self-interest. And season 6 is pretty clever, actually – soulless!Sam is a device that does get them back on the road in a way that makes sense; we know why Sam isn't doing what's right for Sam, and we know that Dean can be convinced to do what's wrong for him in order to save Sam.  It tracks.  But it can't last, and what takes over pretty soon from there is...inertia, basically. They keep doing this because this is what they do.  It doesn't really make them happy.  It just feels necessary, because Hunters is what they are; no Hunters retire, in the whole show.  They are never allowed.  It is not done.  They may lapse into more of a part-time gig, but nobody actually leaves the business, because it would be – bad.  People would die, we guess?  A hero never would, we guess? It's not terribly clear, but the general sense is that it just has to happen this way because this is their story now.  This is who they are.

And that's the opposite of what the initial story was about.  Now the story about using your free will to transform and redeem the dysfunctions you inherited is a story about two guys just working in the family business while they die inside of loneliness and PTSD.  There's no story question in the later seasons; there's just stimulus and response.  Oops, Leviathans.  Oops, Mark of Cain.  Oops, Amara.  Oops, Lucifer and Lucifer and more Lucifer. Oops, Michael again.  We better deal with that, I guess.  Some of the storylines are okay in later seasons; some individual episodes are fantastic.  But the whole thing is mired in the fact that there can't be forward momentum in the story because there are opponents and antagonists galore, but there's no internal engine to the story, no fundamental problem to conquer or question to resolve.  From outside the story, we can sit here and say, Hey, it's a problem for me that these dudes are fucking miserable, I'd like them to work on resolving that!  But within the story, they're never allowed to admit that is a problem.  Because it's an adventure show about brave guys doing good deeds, and it's undermined at the most basic level if we come out and admit that what would make these dudes less miserable is no more fucking adventures, no more martyring themselves to do good deeds, no more hunting at all.

When the show came to an end, it was epically fucked, because it had nothing to resolve.  And to give the show credit, it did try to do something interesting that would refer back to and provide a commentary on the whole show – this meta business about “have we all been God's favorite tv show all along?” There's something there; it reminds me of the CS Lewis quote about how he never worried that God didn't exist, but he did often fear that God was actually a vivisectionist.  What if the reason this show has been churning along in place forever in spite of the characters' vivid and unchanging dissatisfaction with their life is that some other force wanted them to keep going on adventures?  Maybe it's God, who's a writer (that's ground we've gone over before), but not just a writer – he's his only fan, his only audience.  He's the Fandom. He's the Audience.  He's us.  Sam and Dean have been on this hamster wheel of labor and loss with no endpoint in sight because that's what we tune in to see; if they both quit, we change the channel.  We're the ones who demand they Always Keep Fighting, who call them heroes for suffering through this endless parade of baddies and funerals.  I mean, that's pretty good, as a way to retcon the complete pointlessness of the last ten years!  The point is: it was fun to watch.  We liked the characters and the episodes and we wanted them to keep doing that for our entertainment, even though we knew it wasn't any fun for them.  It's basically the network tv version of Cabin In the Woods, and there's a – I would say mildly interesting question to raise there about what's drama, what's catharsis, what do we get out of stories about other people's suffering and other people's heroism?  In my opinion it's a mildly interesting route to open up, although I don't know that there's enough meat on the bone to really make it pay off.  An effort was clearly made, though!

But to follow that through to its conclusion, you'd have to answer it, and the way it's set up, there is no satisfying answer possible from inside the universe.  We can answer what we get out of stories, perhaps.  But why would that be of any interest or comfort to the people in the stories?  Their story can't resolve for Sam and Dean if we learn it was actually a story about us the whole time.

So what do you do to end that story? Well, you're a little bit stuck.  You can have them resign or get free somehow, sure, and the show does that.  But what then?  You have two choices, really: either we loop back to s6 and they keep being hunters because It's a Show About Two Hunters – only this time they have True Free Will so you have to assert that they're really freely choosing it, and you have to somehow justify that they would really freely choose to keep doing this thing that's never made them happy, which is depressing as shit – or you have them quit and go pursue their own lives and their own desires – which pretty much goes ahead and admits that the last ten seasons have been us the audience benefitting from the Winchesters' unwilling participation in this Saw-like theme park that was set up for our entertainment (via our stand-in, Chuck).  That's clearly the bolder option, but it's also like – super fucked up!  And it denies both the audience and, more critically, the people who make the show from having any real victory lap,  any way to present the show as a completed entity and say “here's a great story that we're proud of and excited about.” It's such a bleak corner that the show has painted itself into at that point – all of this only happened against our heroes' will, but enjoy it anyway!  Of course that got pushback.  Of course people wanted to end with something that portrayed the characters as the drivers of the show, protagonists whose choices mattered, whose lives mattered.  But they weren't, and they didn't.  That was the premise the writers went with in season 15, because they needed to do something about the fact that nowhere in the past ten seasons had the Winchesters done anything on their own behalf, because they'd never been given story goals.  All they'd been allowed to do is play whack-a-mole with monsters.

It's a mess all the way around, and it's almost impossible to resolve this late in the game.  Season 15 couldn't be about the Winchesters resolving any real Stuff, because the show had long since realized that its prime directive was making sure that the fundamental pattern of the show remained intact: the boys go on adventures, bad things happen somewhere and the boys show up to stop it.  And if that fundamental pattern is not a problem – if we're supposed to be glad it's there – then you can't allow any storylines that would end in changing it.  Everything that's introduced has to be resolvable by a reversion to that vision of What We Do Around Here, so we can keep doing it.  The legitimacy of What We Do Around Here is never allowed to be in question, and an attempt to question it at the very end of the series winds up inherently muddled and out-of-place.  Third-act problems are always first-act problems, and the problem with the finale is that the show had spent so long actively reifying the value of an endless, unchanging sequence of events and actively working to quash anything that started looking like a linear story that would end in a place other than where it began.

I like a lot of the plotlines and episodes and characters in the later season.  Honestly, 12 is probably my favorite season, just on the weight of good episodes I enjoy watching.  But the only part of Supernatural that ever had a coherent story at the heart of it was the original five seasons, where things were set up, explored, and resolved in Swan Song with admirable narrative focus and direction.  Everything after that was just stuff that happened, which is not what a story is, and you can't come back from that in the series finale and somehow make it work.

[thatsamericano]

I Know My Love Should Be Celebrated, But You Tolerate It

Pairing: America/Romano, human AU

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, mild angst and some homophobia from human OCs.

Word Count: 2100

Summary: Alfred needs to tell his mother he’s engaged, but he knows she won’t be happy for him the way Matthew was when he got the news.

Alfred was sitting on the couch with his hand clasped in Savino’s, staring at the cell phone that was resting on the coffee table. Part of him didn’t want to pick it up to tell his mother that he was engaged now, because he knew she wouldn’t have the reaction he was hoping for.

Last night, he’d called Mattie only a few minutes after Savino had proposed. Matthew said congratulations, told Alfred he was happy for him, and most importantly, sounded completely sincere and not just like he was saying what he was supposed to. He listened while Alfred gushed about the proposal and possible wedding plans and chuckled quietly at some of Alfred’s more outlandish ideas. He was just as amused as he would’ve been if they’d been there in person and he’d been able to see Savino curled up into his side, blushing and with that fond, disbelieving grin only Alfred could put on his face. They talked for an hour and a half until Savino pointed out that it was past midnight, and Matthew might need to end the call so he could get enough sleep before he had to go into work the next day.

Alfred knew that his mother wouldn’t react like that. The first time he’d brought Vinny home to meet his family, his father shook his head and walked out of the room while muttering under his breath. Alfred had heard the car starting up outside as his mom gave them an extremely fake smile and asked them if they’d like something to drink. Later, she’d pulled Alfred aside to scold him for not “warning” his parents ahead of time that Savino was his boyfriend, not just his friend. She asked about his sexuality, and he hadn’t been able to answer to her satisfaction, because to him it wasn’t a question of men vs. women. It was a question of Savino vs. every other human being on the planet. If he couldn’t be with Vinny, he’d rather be with no one at all.

It had been two years since then, but Alfred could still vividly remember the look his mom gave him, which was identical to the look she’d give Baxter when he was a puppy and peed on the carpet. Like she loved him, because Alfred was her son and she had no other choice, but was deeply, deeply disappointed in him.

Alfred stared at the phone and jiggled his leg nervously. Savino squeezed his hand.

“You’ll have to pick up the phone eventually, tesoro.”

Alfred heaved out a sigh. “I know. It’s not like I don’t wanna tell her. I wanna tell everybody. Last night, when you asked me to marry you, was the happiest moment of my life. But I know if I tell her, she’s gonna try to make me change my mind.”

Savino smiled weakly. “But she’s not going to be able to, is she?”

Alfred shook his head and glanced back at his cell phone. “No. Nothing could ever make me change my mind.”

Vinny rubbed his hand over the back of Alfred’s hand. “I’ll be here when you call her. You won’t have to do this alone.”

He could do it. With Vinny holding his hand, he could swallow down his anxiety and tell his parents. Alfred picked up his cell phone, went to his contacts, and called his mom.

The phone rang twice before his mom answered. “Hello, Alfred.”

“Hey, Mom. I’ve got some big news to share with you.” He figured it was best to tell her right away. He glanced over at his fiancé, who was nodding in approval.

“Is it good news?”

“The best news. I’m engaged. Vinny asked me to marry him last night.” Alfred grinned, because it felt amazing to say that out loud. Some part of Alfred still couldn’t believe it was real. He was gonna marry Vinny, who was smirking because he knew it was taking every ounce of Alfred’s self-control to avoid squealing or screaming down the phone line like he had when he called Mattie the night before. Savino was adorable 24/7, but especially when he smirked like that, like he was the lucky one in this relationship. Alfred would’ve kissed him if he wasn’t waiting to hear his mom’s reaction.

He waited. And he waited. As he waited, the grin gradually fell away from his face. Alfred hadn’t been expecting anything different, but the way she couldn’t even feign a congratulations hurt.

“Oh,” she finally said. “I suppose you won’t be holding the, uh, ceremony, in a church, will you?”

“I don’t know. Vinny and I haven’t talked about that yet.” He knew they couldn’t get married in the church Alfred had been raised in, and that they couldn’t have a Catholic wedding either. Alfred noticed how she had avoided the word wedding but pretended everything was still fine.

“Will there be a gift registry?”

Alfred frowned. “Like I said, I don’t know. We just got engaged last night.”

“Then why did you call me?” His mom sounded irritated, like she had when he was five and wanted to show her a drawing he did in kindergarten and ran in while she was in the middle of doing work in her home office. That dismissal had hurt at the time, but not as much as telling his mom he was engaged and getting the same kind of reaction as a little kid clamoring for attention while their parent had something more important to focus on.

Alfred shrunk down mentally to that same age. “I just wanted to tell you because you’re my mom. I’m happy, so I thought maybe you’d be happy for me, even if you can’t be proud of me.” Tears were pricking at his eyes, and Alfred bit his lip so his mother couldn’t hear how upset he was. Savino scooted closer, so that he was pressed up against Alfred’s side. He couldn’t be closer without crawling onto Alfred’s lap.

His mother sighed, and she sounded so tired. Tired of him more than anything else. “Alfred, your father and I have been patient about this. We’ve been as tolerant as we can be.”

Alfred laughed miserably. “Sure. Dad won’t even acknowledge Vinny exists, and you tell all your snooty friends that Vinny is my roommate instead of my boyfriend. But you haven’t disowned me yet, so I’m supposed to be grateful, right?”

“There’s no need for you to get so hostile.”

Right. Because it wasn’t hostile for his parents to treat his fiancé like shit and to act like him being in love and happy was something horrible they had to tolerate and be patient about. Alfred bit his tongue to keep those nasty thoughts inside his head, and Savino nuzzled into his neck.

“I’m so sorry she’s doing this to you, caro,” Vinny murmured. Alfred silently kissed the top of his head and listened as his mother started lecturing him again.

“You’re so young. I remember being that age. You think you know everything, but you don’t.”

“I’m older than you were when you married Dad.”

His mother ignored what he said, just like he’d known she would. “I love you, Alfie. And it’s because I love you that I’m trying to help you avoid making a mistake you’ll end up regretting someday.”

Tears were leaking out of his eyes, but Alfred was so angry that his words came out as a growl rather than pathetic blubbering. Vinny deserved better than this bullshit. “Savino is the only person I’ve ever wanted to be with. I told you that two goddamn years ago. He’s been nothing but respectful to you and dad, but you guys never even gave him a chance. He isn’t a mistake, and I don’t regret anything about being with him. The only thing I regret is listening to you put him down for so fucking long.”

“Alfred, that’s—”

“I’m done. Call me when you can at least pretend to love me for who I am, instead of who you want me to be.” Alfred hung up the phone before his mother could say anything else, and Vinny immediately shifted onto his lap and started wiping away the tears from his cheeks.

Alfred sobbed harder at Savino’s kindness. “I hate her. I hate her so much for trying to talk me out of marrying you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and the only reason she can’t see it is because you’re a guy.”

Savino kissed his face and made soothing noises. “I love you so much. I wanted to rip her to shreds the second she made you cry.”

Alfred laughed wetly. “You sound so hot when you say stuff like that.”

Savino rolled his eyes and blushed at the compliment, like he blushed every single time Alfred tried to seduce him, no matter how cheesy his attempt was. “Idiota.”

Alfred surged up to kiss his fiancé, and Savino made a muffled sound of confusion but reciprocated a second later. Vinny was being too adorable and perfect for Alfred to not kiss him, but that wasn’t the only reason. He needed to feel something real, something lasting that wasn’t the rejection of the woman who brought him into this world. Savino’s hands planted on his shoulders, the warm weight of his body on top of him, and the soft pressure of their lips pressed together made Alfred feel safe and loved in a way nothing else could.

By the time they separated, Alfred was no longer crying. He felt significantly calmer as he petted Savino’s hair. “I don’t think I want my parents at the wedding.” It wasn’t a decision he would ever feel completely okay about. In an ideal world, his parents would be there in the front row, crying nostalgic tears as they watched him get married because they were so proud of him. But Alfred didn’t live in an ideal world, and he couldn’t keep pretending that he did.

Savino pressed a tiny kiss to his temple. “If you don’t want them there, then we won’t invite them. We should invite people who can celebrate with us. Unless your parents have a miraculous change of heart, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

Alfred scoffed. “If they decided to come, they’d probably act like they were going to my funeral instead of my wedding. Or they’d try to convince me I shouldn’t marry you, and I’d lose it on them a lot worse than I did today.” Alfred had been putting up with his mother’s bullshit for far too long, and he probably would’ve continued to put up with it if she had only been insulting him and not his fiancé. Alfred could take his parents’ disapproval, but he wouldn’t listen to anyone implying that Vinny wasn’t good enough for him.

Savino hummed in consideration. “We shouldn’t tell them until after the fact. Send them a postcard when we’re on our honeymoon and it’s too late for them to do anything about it.”

Alfred chuckled. “That sounds devious. I like it.” He grinned and rubbed his hands up and down Vinny’s thighs. “You should make evil plans more often. It’s sexy as hell.”

Savino snorted in disbelief, but he was grinning in the flattered, flustered way Alfred was so familiar with as he fiddled with the top button of Alfred’s shirt. “Amore, you’re hopeless. You think the way I breathe is sexy.”

“Anyone with working eyes or ears would. Which makes me a pretty lucky guy.” Alfred winked up at him, which he’d learned early on was a good way to flirt with Vinny. He wasn’t really good at this whole flirting thing, since Vinny was the only person he’d ever wanted to flirt with. All he’d ever been able to do was be a little too honest, recite lines from TV or movies, wink, and carry heavy stuff to show off his muscles. Miraculously, his clumsy attempts had actually worked.

They were working pretty well now, obviously, because Savino was leaning in less than an inch away from his mouth. “We’re both lucky, Fredo. Ti amo.”

Hearing that made Alfred weak-kneed even though he was sitting down. When Savino leaned in the rest of the way to kiss him, a shiver swept through him, even though he wasn’t cold. He grabbed at the back of Vinny’s neck and moaned when Vinny licked his way into his mouth. His mother’s reaction to his engagement, along with any other problems he had, ceased to exist as long as his fiancé was kissing him.

[imaginejamesandsirius]

fic where sirius runs away from his house after walburga and orion go way too far, so he rocks up at james’ with a butload of injuries but it’s ok because they’re all soft and there’s love confessions and fluff 🤒

((A/N: Mentions of child abuse but nothing graphic))

The Potter parents had long ago extended an open invitation to Sirius: any time, night or day, Sirius was allowed to walk right in. He didn't have to call first, and he didn't have to knock. "Any time at all, dear," Mrs. Potter had said with a kind, too-perceptive smile. "You can have a reason-- or not. It doesn't matter." She knew what went on at the Black household behind closed doors. If she didn't know for sure, she at least had a good idea. 

Sirius had wanted to pretend like he didn't need their help, but he'd found himself sneaking out of Grimmauld Place more than once over the years. 

This time was worse than the rest. He walked in, shaking. After he closed the door, he didn't know what to do. He leaned against the wall next to it and slowly slid down until he was sitting. He tugged ineffectually at the knots on his boots. The laces were wet, and his hands were cold from the rain. And he was still shaking. The familiar smell of their home made him feel safe, and the adrenaline was leaving him at a rapid pace. He managed to get his shoes off, and a few tugs later found his soaked socks resting on their good hardwood. 

He was too tired to get to his feet, and he didn't think his legs would hold him right now, anyways. He brought his knees up to his chest and leaned heavily against the wall as his eyes fluttered shut. The sound of rain outside the front door soothed some of his nerves; he liked storms. If he were here under other circumstances, he'd turn into Padfoot and go play in the yard. As it stood, he stayed where he was and avoided taking any breaths that were too deep since doing so would make his ribs hurt with a sharp pain. 

He sat in the entryway on the floor for long enough that an ache had settled into the parts of him that he was putting weight on. Gingerly, he got to his feet. He shrugged out of his jacket and let it fall on the floor, then he ambled towards the living room. Their couch was bloody comfortable, Sirius knew from previous use. It would be easy to fall asleep there. He wanted to go upstairs and crawl into bed with James because James always made him feel better, but he didn't have faith in his ability to make it up all of the stairs on his own. 

There was a blanket over the back of the couch-- one that Mr. Potter had made while recovering from a potion's accident-- and Sirius pulled it into his hands before he sat down. 

He fell into a fitful sleep, and it was only a couple hours later when he woke up to James saying, "Sirius?" 

"Hey," he said, peeking an eye open to look at his best mate. 

"Why didn't you come up? You know I wouldn't have minded." 

"Too tired," Sirius said. 

"You want some help getting there?" James offered. 

"Sure." When he got to his feet, he didn't put the blanket down. He was groggy enough that he didn't consciously think about it, but he would've resisted if James tried to get him to leave it here. 

*

The next morning, Sirius was aware of more aches and pains than he had been when he came in. Naively, he'd thought that that meant he wasn't as badly hurt as he'd thought whenever he left. 

All the deep bruises and bleeding cuts in the world didn't hurt as bad as what Mr. Potter found on the doorstep, though: a bag of Sirius's things. Sirius hadn't been the one to pack it, and he sure as hell hadn't let it trail behind him all night long as he'd made his way here. There wasn't a letter attached to it; there didn't need to be. 

Sirius had hated living in Grimmauld Place. He'd hated his parents and every moment he'd spent around them was a moment he desperately wished he could be somewhere else. So why the hell did it hurt so bad to be kicked out? After all, he'd been the one to leave last night, like he always did. His parents were the ones to send the message that he shouldn't come back, and it hit a lot harder than Sirius would've liked. 

Swiftly on the news of telling Sirius that his belongings had been left on their door, Mr. Potter assured him that he could stay with them. "Until we die, and probably after that too," Mr. Potter had said with a brief, joking smile. None of them knew how to comfort Sirius about this. Sirius didn't know if he even wanted to be comforted. 

As always, James was there. 

In a move that surprised Sirius, James managed to make him feel better. James was usually good about that sort of thing-- he was practically an expert in cheering Sirius up after so many years of friendship-- but Sirius had rather thought that he was going to be in a poor mood for at least a week before he started to even out. 

"I've got good news," James declared. 

If Sirius were in a usual temperament, he would've made a joke about how James's existence was always good news, but what made today extra special? He wasn't in a joking sort of mood though, so he said, "What?" 

"I love you." 

"That's hardly news." 

"Is it news if I say I fancy you?" 

"Do you?" Sirius asked. 

"Course I do. And I know that you're not in the sort of mood to be dealing with any of it, but I wanted to let you know that just because your parents are pants at loving you doesn't make it impossible. And you may not want to hear it, but I'm happy you're away from them. I know they're your parents and family means a lot to the Black family, but you don't need them. You need... us. You and me, and Mum and Dad, and Moony and Wormtail. Your bloody parents and cousins can rot. Except for Andromeda," James added thoughtfully. "She's nice." 

Sirius blinked at him. "I feel like you're trying to distract me from your rather unspectacular love confession. I deserve fireworks, Prongs." He spread his hands to show the absence. "I don't see any fireworks." 

"There are fireworks in my heart," James tried, pairing it with a beaming smile. 

It was like a dam broke in Sirius. Since getting the news that he'd been kicked out, he'd been sad at first, and then fallen into something like numb depression. He'd been sad, but he'd also felt like he couldn't feel anything. It was a stupid joke. Barely a joke and more of an attempt to shift the focus from how un-monumental of love confession it had been. In the past, when Sirius had dreamt about James telling him that he fancied him, it had been far nicer. Usually, they were sitting on the same bed reading books they'd sneaked out of the Forbidden Section and joking around, and then James would look at him and Sirius would know what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. Other times they were in Hogsmeade at Zonko's or Three Broomsticks while Wormtail and Moony were doing something else, and James would put an arm around him and kiss him like there was almost nothing different. Sometimes there were flowers. A lot of times, when Sirius was laying in bed at night and dreaming of the world-stopping romance he wanted his life to be, James would have this big long speech about how long he'd loved Sirius and how it was all he'd been able to think about so he had to tell him because he couldn't hold it in any longer. 

The point is, he'd always imagined it to be happy. Maybe it was a regular day, or maybe it was a day when Sirius was particularly happy, but it had always been a scenario where things were already going well. He'd never imagined that it would happen like this, with him feeling like so much rubbish and James announcing it as easily as if he were sharing news that they had gotten restocked on dungbombs. 

And he'd certainly never imagined that he would break into hysterical laughter that quickly turned into full on sobbing. In this moment, all he should want was to focus on James and what he'd just admitted, but it finally hit him that he was never going home again. That he had no one to call his parents, no back-up for when he got in trouble-- which he inevitably would. 

He pitched himself into James's arms and clung to him as he cried it out. It was... cathartic, he supposed. He actually felt better by the time he stopped. 

James was rubbing his back, he noticed. A warm comfort that reminded him of getting his head pat when he was Padfoot. "Are you okay?" James asked quietly. 

"Better than before," Sirius said. He wiped at his face with his hands but didn't stop leaning on James. "I can't believe you waited until my parents disowned me to tell me that." 

"I didn't mean to make you feel worse," he muttered. 

Sirius shook his head. "You didn't." Normally, he would've taken the opportunity to pull James into a kiss, but his face was kind of disgusting right now and that's not how he wanted their first kiss to be. "I erm, I mean, I fancy you too. You didn't make me feel worse. I just wasn't expecting it." 

[jengajives]

The Fëanorians are very lacking in social skills.

“Nelyo!”

The voice was about the last one he wanted to hear, and he immediately stiffened as a panic tore through him like wildfire. He fumbled for a moment before practically ripping his hair out of its braids, letting it fall loose to hopefully cover up his neck. He spun, leaning back against the silvery anvil, hands behind him and trying hard to look casual.

“Father!” Maedhros squeaked, then cleared his throat and tried again. “Father! I thought you were at the feast. What are you-“

“I saw that bright-eyed rat slinking out of here,” Fëanor seethed as he stepped down into the forge. He was dressed in his ceremonial clothing and glittered with the rubies sewn into his robe; the array of dazzling gems set in his headdress might it very difficult to look at him directly in the eyes. Not that Maedhros wanted to do that at the moment. Fëanor glanced around warily, and then fixed his eldest in his gaze. “I think he was trying to steal something. You didn’t see him, did you?”

“Who?” Maedhros squeaked again, and cursed his voice for being so easily worn.

“The Valar’s pet snake,” Fëanor answered hotly. “That Melkor creature. Was he here?”

Maedhros’s gaze slid to the sword his father had taken to wearing, and he swallowed.

“Melkor? Oh, no. I haven’t seen him.”

Fëanor huffed haughtily, and started to walk around the workshop examining all his projects to ensure that nothing had been touched. “That slime is getting far too comfortable around here. I think it’s Fingolfin giving him ear, making him feel like he has the right to slink around like one of our own.”

“You really think Uncle would do that?” Maedhros asked, trying hard to sound casual, though he’d started sweating. “We all know how much you hate Melkor. I don’t think anyone in Tirion would indulge him, Uncle least of all.” A bead of sweat dripped off the tip of his nose but he caught it before it could plink on the floor.

“You have too much faith in him,” Fëanor spat. Once he finished examining all his works, he finally turned to focus on his son- exactly what Maedhros had been dreading.

He swallowed hard and tried not to look guilty, but Fëanor’s gaze was like a beam he couldn’t squirm away from, slowly peeling the skin away from him until his heart was open and exposed.

A frown crossed his father’s grim face.

“What’s this?”

He motioned directly to where Maedhros knew there had to be bruises blossoming dark alongside his throat, and everything went very dry.

“What do you mean?” he choked. Fëanor narrowed his eyes, then spoke slowly.

“You’re seeing someone.”

“N-No!”

“Don’t lie, Nelyo. Everyone knows you’ve been acting strange lately. Sneaking off all the time, daydreaming, now this...” He shook his head and a flicker of flame lit behind his pale silver eyes. “Who is it?”

“F-Father...” Maedhros stumbled over an excuse, mind desperately trying to conjure any explanation, anything that wasn’t “I’ve been sleeping with Melkor, the creature you hate most out of all existence, Father. Sorry!” Nothing would come to mind. Nothing he could say to avert this crisis.

“I-I was going to tell you,” he finally choked, but his pathetic sob was stoppered as his father unexpectedly clapped him on the back.

“Ingwion is very lucky,” Fëanor was saying. “You know he talks about you all the time. It’s really not much of a secret.”

“Ingwion?” Maedhros repeated, then abruptly collected himself and began to nod heartily. “Yes. Yes! Ingwion. I’ve been seeing him, but we’ve kept it secret. I just... I don’t want the others to know. I don’t think Curufin would like it very much if he knew. You understand though, don’t you, Father?”

“You are a silly boy,” Fëanor said scoldingly. “It’s a smart match. Anyone would approve. Though I have to warn you to be cautious with the golden-hairs; don’t let him go telling you lies about the Valar.”

“Of course, Father,” Maedhros choked, head spinning. He got another clap on the shoulder that made his whole body flinch.

“Good lad. Your mother is going to be very proud.”

“My mother,” he repeated numbly. “Yes. Of course everyone will want to know...”

Oh, dear.

“I’m very happy for you, Nelyo,” called Fëanor as he mounted the stairs again. “And keep an eye out for the rat, won’t you?”

Just like that he was gone, and Maedhros was left there utterly hollow and his mind too tired chasing itself in circles to race anymore.

He couldn’t shake the feeling he’d just made things infinitely worse.

Melkor was going to think this was very funny. He didn’t particularly relish the thought.

“I always have time for you, Maitimo.”

Ingwion said with a smile as Maedhros stood shifting awkwardly foot to foot before him. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Well,” Maedhros said in a notably strangled voice, “yes, I... I’m afraid I must ask... I must ask you a favor, friend, but it’s... Well, it’s very strange. Very strange indeed, I just...” Again he shifted, unable to settle, restless and completely terrified to go on.

Ingwion liked him. Ingwion had never been anything but kind. This was too much to ask.

“Maitimo?” asked the prince in a voice that was way too approachable to be fair. “What troubles you?”

He was handsome, and that was irritating. Never Maedhros’s type, but certainly handsome. He had his people’s gleaming golden hair and a kindly face with brown skin that seemed to glow. It was inconsiderate of him to be so... so considerate. He had no right.

“I may have... mentioned to my father that we two are...” He stumbled, fingers twisting together, then just squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to finished. “I might have implied that the two of us are seeing each other.”

Ingwion stared at him for a long time before he seemingly remembered to react and said “Oh!”

“Which is bad,” Maedhros went on without glancing up, “because I’m... I’m seeing someone else. Someone my father really doesn’t like. But now he’s going to tell everyone that the two of us are... involved, so I’m a bit... I’m a bit stuck.”

There was an awful silence. Finally Ingwion spoke, cautiously.

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

“No one can know. My family would disown me if they-“

“It’s Melkor, isn’t it?”

Maedhros went stiff. Panic raced through him.

“How did you-“

“Let’s see.” Ingwion counted on his fingers. “Father hates him. Family would disown you. Bad enough to lie about, and then come to me looking for help. You would have told the truth if it was anyone else, Maitimo. You love your father more than that.”

“He can’t know,” Maedhros choked. “Ingwion, if he finds out-“

“I’ll make you a deal.” Ingwion smiled sadly at him. “If it was anyone else, I would be ringing the wedding bells for you too and feigning to be your betrothed if you needed me too. But I love the Valar too much and I do not trust Melkor for a second, especially when he pretends to be fair and kindly. He has nothing but suffering in mind for you and all your people, Maitimo. So I offer this. I will act the part of your beloved and keep your honor intact, if you swear never to see Melkor again. You must leave him, before he twists you up and destroys you. I won’t see it happen, and I can’t stand by and be complicit if you won’t try to stop it.”

“Never see him again?” Maedhros repeated in a choked voice.

“I want to help,” Ingwion said instead of a direct answer.

His stomach turned.

“But I-“

Ingwion held up a hand.

“Think on it, my friend. My offer stands.”

Maedhros nodded numbly. Without even thinking he turned to go, and behind him heard Ingwion’s gentle voice.

“I just want you to be safe...”

The words wouldn’t click, and he walked out of the hall in a daze and a daydream.

[papcrthin]

ayeee! it’s dash and i’m here to bring you my art hoe inna ! she’s a fairly new muse so bear with me if there’s still kinks in the works as i get to know ha. down below you’ll find a tl;dr, if you want to take a gander at her profile it’s here. over here i have some possible plots but if you wanna work something out like this post and i’ll swing into your dms !

( KIM DOYEON, SHE/HER ) ╱ oh looky, if it ain’t [ CHOI INNA ] from [ 208B ]! a busy bee little [ VISUAL ART STUDENT  /  RETAIL ASSISTANT ], aren’t they? still can’t believe they’re [ 21 ] this year. i heard they’re adored for being [ AVANT-GARDE ] but their [ MERCURIAL ] attitude can be a pain in the ass sometimes. have they not thought of moving out after [ SIX MONTHS ]? oh well, as long as they like it here!

tw bullying

mademoiselle inna was born to a upper-class family in gangnam, south korea. her father choi wooyoung is a lawyer and her mother is simply a stay-at-home wife who dotes on her three children.

the medial child warrants little attention; her siblings facing either the pressure of being the first-born and holding down the family or the youngest an apple to be spoilt till rotten, inna was left to her own devices at a very young age.

still it was expected that all of the choi children would follow their father’s route to become a lawyer, or something else in a respectable field.

was kind of a wallflower in class, hung around with the older cool kids, smoked cigarettes behind the school field during math class. 

it was her art teacher in high school who pushed a paintbrush into her hands, seeing how adroit she was at drawing and painting. he often let her use the studio after school, supervised her and kept a blind eye when she left for smoke breaks.

after a while, people suspected that she was dating the art teacher and bullying ensued. it got profoundly worse when her closest friends graduated before her and she was soon the outcast.

to prove that she was her own woman and didn’t give a fuck about the he-said/she-said, she broke into school one night and painted a mural on one of the hallway walls. it featured a nude woman tattooed with all the insults the other kids had labelled her with.

inna was promptly expelled and continued the remainder of her high school years in another school, whilst her parents tried to threaten her with disownment if she didn’t quit with the arts.

can’t take the art of this hoe, she hid her sketchbooks under her mattress and lied to her parents, promising that she would live an art-free life.

could never really wrap her head around the more compulsory subjects, inna excelled in arts and humanity but couldn’t get the grades for the others. her parents paid a fortune in tutors to get her into university.

despite the expectations for a law degree, she chose visual arts as her major and so she’s kind of the black sheep of the family. her parents are no longer talking to her though her siblings still keep tabs on her. her older brother sends her money and her younger sister keeps her in the loop on familial affairs.

she’s currently in her second year of university and works as a part-time retail assistant at a niche boutique to pay the bills.

doesn’t really know what she wants to do other than art right now, at the moment she’s just going with the flow.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

sag sun, gem moon and taurus rising.

inna is quite sociable, will talk to anyone and has the gift of the gab when it comes to the arts. 

a curious bean who wants to know about everything !!! believes that human thought is precious and serves as inspiration for her projects so she will listen to you ramble about anything... try to bring up politics or science though and this queen will stRUGGLE.

can be quite moody at times and she can switch from a gregarious bean to  don’t fucking look at me right now in a matter of seconds.

kind of sees the world in a basquiat depiction of alice in wonderland and her art reflects that. neo-expressionism is her go-to style for the canvas and she mostly incorporates her rage and passion into her work. 

has tunnel vision when she’s painting, not so much when sketching but when she’s in front of a canvas no one else exists.

as she grows older her work starts to portray much of her thoughts on the world around her too, she has a lot of thoughts about everything and the best way to convey that is via paintbrush.

she’s intense when it comes to relationships ( even though she’ll pretend to be cool about it ) and loves to romanticise the heck out of her partners. she’ll depict them ( or snippets of them ) in her work, her sketches, sometimes more in love with what she’s conjured on the canvas than the actual person oop

𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐄 '𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄'

she’s the queen who’s up late at night painting or sketching, has a steady diet of iced coffee and always forgets to wash her dishes

sleeps in if she’s pulled an all-nighter and is the heaviest sleeper ok.

smokes a lot but always swears she’ll quit.

don’t let her find your whitest pair of sneakers otherwise she’ll paint designs on them.

can usually find her donning her sweats smattered in dried paint or in garb from A-Land or UO. yes she’s defo got that art student aesthetic going for her. wanna see her pinterest?

loves to spread out on the floor with her sketchbook, she might find herself in your room on your rug just sketching whilst u do your thing.

if she’s in a mood, she’ll lock up in her room and stare at a canvas until it’s covered in paint and she feels better.

almost always has leftover paint on her fingers.

[ruminantminds]

me, my dream, my desire, how it's killing me, like i laugh at it.

SIOBHAN BLAKE ( SHE / THEY ) is a NON-BINARY FORTY * year old TOWN MAYOR who has been living in Moorbrooke for THEIR ENTIRE LIFE. Right now, they are currently residing in ELMSETT GREEN. It has been said that they look suspiciously like ROSAMUND PIKE and if they had to choose a song to describe themselves, they would choose VOILA by BARBARA PRAVI.

                 * they were originally forty-one on the app but after working out the birth chart i have decided their forty-first birthday is the fourth of june ! just in case you want to plan birthday things for her <3

mun introduction ;

hi everyone ! i’m shannon, i’m a non-binary autistic lesbian, i’m twenty-one && i never fucking learned how to sleep ! 

BASICS —

NAME: siobhan adrienne louisa blake.

AGE: forty.

GENDER: non-binary.

BIRTH DATE: fourth of june, nineteen-eighty.

BIRTH PLACE: moorbrooke, maine, usa.

SEXUALITY: lesbian.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: married to alante patterson.

ZODIAC: gemini sun, aquarius moon, libra rising.

MBTI: enfp-a.

ENNEAGRAM: four, with a three wing.

HOGWARTS HOUSE: hufflepuff. 

THEME SONG: voila by barbara pravi.

FAVOURITE SONG: no plan by hozier.

OCCUPATION: mayor of moorbrooke ( 2020 - present. )

PAST CAREERS: english teacher at moorbrooke high school ( 2004 - 2020. )

EDUCATION: bachelor’s degree in literature at yale university, the only period of time they’ve spent not living in moorbrooke. 

DREAM JOB: senator for maine.

PARENTS: ciara & severin blake ( deceased. )

SIBLINGS: none.

SPOUSE: alante patterson ( m. 2015 ; together since )

PETS: two cats, vita && virginia.

PREDOMINANT TRAITS: wholesome, compassionate, ambitious, unconventional, humanitarian, self-critical, discerning, sociable, curious.

BACKSTORY —

apart from a few years at yale, siobhan has never lived away from moorbrooke. it’s where she was born, it’s where they were raised, it’s the place where she feels most at home. it’s filled with the people who watched them evolve into the who they now confidently are. but growing up with parents with massive expectations was never easy. 

because while they moved from new york, severin blake’s old money attitude never left him behind. 

( tw: fertility struggles ) and with old money, conservativism often follows. this is no exception. siobhan spent most of their childhood trying to be the golden child their parents wanted, even when it felt wrong. hopeful that some other sibling would come to take some of the weight off their shoulders, it never came to fruition, and she was their only child. severin blake — french-american businessman’s — only legacy.

siobhan was always more compassionate than their parents. when new people came to the town, she would always try to offer them a leg-up, no matter who they were, why they had come, or how long they were planning to stay. they had no issue playing chameleon to make others comfortable: wasn’t that what she’d always done, regardless? 

this rang true when alante patterson came to town. a few years younger than her, split from her siblings in the foster system, it just made sense for siobhan to try to be the other girl’s constant. the beginning of a close relationship that still runs stronger than ever, thirty years later. 

alante was always refreshingly honest, and always made siobhan feel safe to be . . . themselves, even if they were pretending to everyone else.

siobhan’s chameleonic tendencies made them highly popular as a teenager, her parents’ pride and joy, but the latter half began to fail when siobhan began to understand — began being operative, as it was a process that took them many years — their curiosity about their sexuality and gender. this relationship, and her parents’ desire for them to hide this evolving part of themselves, was a behind-closed-doors battle which led to anxiety & depression. 

a vicious cycle, because the attitude to mental health on severin’s part was also quite . . . medieval, and ciara certainly never intervened to stop him. 

( the blakes had always been protestant, though siobhan was reluctant to take part in any acknowledgement of such. siobhan has considered themselves agnostic since the age of thirteen, though she supports her wife in her faith as much as she can. )

siobhan came out when she went to yale at the age of eighteen, and her experience had been mixed. college took her away from her friends, estranging them from their high school friends and temporarily moving away from alante. when they returned from college studies and took up a job as an english teacher at the local highschool, her best friend was . . . married. 

which made feelings that began to blossom particularly problematic. especially when over the years that followed, no matter how hard they tried to let it go, those feelings persisted. and — eventually — became an affair so passionate that alante left her husband for siobhan some thirteen years ago. 

their relationship with alante is what made them truly decide to — and make them able to — exist fully as themselves. who they wanted to be. so now, they’re not quite as chameleonic, but she’s endearing to the people who are truly interested in her and that’s all that matters, isn’t it? ( isn’t it? they’re still learning, though they pretend the self-doubt is entirely gone. )

this part of their town-iconic relationship is not public knowledge, and thankfully never came to siobhan’s parents’ knowledge before their deaths five and seven years ago.

siobhan and alante married as soon as possible in 2015, but siobhan always had a dream of washington politics, buried for many years because the political climate of their youth would never take them. now... it’s possible, but alante likes this life, this town, their two cats, and wants to have children. 

as a compromise, siobhan ran for mayor of moorbrooke this recent cycle, and won. but here’s the kicker: will it be enough for them?

CONNECTIONS —

family: while she has no siblings, she does have cousins on ciara’s side, so if you’re interested in that then feel free to let me know & we’ll explore it! i love a good family tree, especially in town rps where i imagine it a bit more interconnected like broadchurch !

family-esque: if your muse has been living in moorbrooke a while, it’s likely siobhan knows them quite or very well. you know those people you call your aunt/uncle out of respect because they’ve been friends with your family as long as you can remember? a bit like that! it’s also a habit because siobhan has been . . . distant from her own family since she was a teenager. they never outright disowned them for what they were calling their ‘ ideas ’ — i.e. being non-gender conforming & lesbian — but their disapproval was... clear enough. she doesn’t want anyone else to feel like they’re without support. 

therapist friend: the thing about siobhan is that they are the ceo of telling other people to look after their mental health while letting their own degrade. ( see: she can’t help taking on other people’s problems & wanting to solve them. )

high school it squad: yes, this is my not-so-subtle way of pleading for more older muses here. these people were siobhan’s friends when they were trying to be who everyone wanted them to be, not who she herself wanted to be ; they were the popular clique, and she adjusted herself as necessary to ‘ ringlead ’ them. i’m thinking they split up when they all went to college, and the rest of them have only just come back to town. the siobhan blake they’re going to meet is . . . very different than the one they once knew. someone who is now comfortable ( at last ) unapologetically in their own skin.

ex-student: if your muse was in high school in moorbrooke anywhere during their tenure it’s likely that siobhan could have taught them! she was the emotional support english teacher. sapphics, you know what i am talking about. 

ingenue: someone interested in politics who siobhan is sharing their passion with !

neighbours: anyone who lives in elmsett court, who wants to live next to moorbrooke’s favourite sapphic it couple? it comes with invitations to dinner and two adventuring cats called vita & virginia that they might have to retrieve from your house.

TAKEN CONNECTIONS

confidante: the only person, aside from alante, who knows the truth. that siobhan and alante’s relationship first ignited in a blazing, letter-ridden extramarital affair, eventually resulting in alante leaving her husband all those years ago. the person siobhan confides her worries in, sometimes. [ alec barlowe. ] 

OTHER TRIVIA

owns a motorbike.

they can still write in anne lister code from letters to alante.

of course, she is a democrat. we do not fuck with republicans here.

watches vita and virginia three times in your average week.

has an eclectic music taste, but frequents the record store because there’s nothing like vinyl. 

( yes, they have hozier on vinyl. )

will only drink white wine. don’t ask them why. they don’t know. 

would have zero wardrobe sense if it wasn’t for alante. money just doesn’t equal style.

the only social network she knows how to use is twitter. please, someone, teach them how to use instagram. bestie needs a social media guru because the people who run the rest of her platforms don’t get it, either.

allergic to banana. but eats it anyway for the mouth tingles.

has kept a diary religiously since the age of twelve.

[gaylotusthatexists]

eyeshadow and flags

pairing: platonic creativitwins

summary: As much as they want to keep everything a secret, Roman realises they can’t hide from their brother forever.

trigger warnings: implied transphobia, unaccepting parents, slight misgendering, sympathetic remus

word count: 1515

a/n: aaaa ok i’m a day late bc reasons but! day four of pride prompts! today’s (well, yesterday’s) prompt was ‘flag’. and, as it was also roman’s birthday yesterday, this doubles as a roman birthday fic. hope y’all enjoy :)

ao3

Roman closed their door and let out a breath, sinking down to the floor. Guests were just beginning to leave - family members and family friends who'd come to celebrate their birthday, no one they were particularly interested in celebrating with but oh well. They'd be celebrating with their actual friends later in the week, sometime after school, although a couple had already given them their presents. Thinking that they'd be alone for a while longer, Roman scooted over to the other corner of their room and grabbed a few presents out of their school bag, leaning against their bed as they began to open them.

A photo album - that was sweet. As they flicked through the pages, they saw pictures of themself and their friends, in local parks and each other's bedrooms and at pride parades, all the fun times they'd had together. But their smile slowly faded, as they shut the book tight and hid it back in their school bag, knowing that if their parents found it and opened it and saw that they'd been to pride parades they'd have some questions, and they doubted that would go very well.

Then there was some necklaces and bracelets and makeup, all of which they couldn't wait to try out, but they'd have to wait a while first, perhaps at their next sleepover. And - oh, God, they'd been wanting that eyeshadow palette for ages, it must have cost their friend so much. They hummed. Perhaps a little eyeshadow wouldn't hurt, at the very least just to send a selfie to their friend who'd gifted them it. They heard the front door close - that would be their parents going out to get shopping, they always liked to go just before the shops closed. That meant Roman had, say, an hour, alone in the house. Humming, they began to apply some of the eyeshadow, just a simple red to start with, although they were very interested in experimenting some more some other time, and sent a quick photo to their friend.

And then the last present. Roman opened the wrapping, close to tears when they saw that their friend had given them - it was a flag, the nonbinary pride flag. They'd been so close to buying one of these at the last pride parade they'd went to but held themself back, for fear that their parents may find it. And, God, had their friend brought it all the way back then? Without Roman even realising?

They glanced around their room, considering whether there'd been a place they could hang it up. Probably best not to put it in plain view, anywhere where any of their family members may see it. That meant their options were either back in their bag, or perhaps somewhere their parents wouldn't look, like...

Nothing came to mind. Their mother tended to clean their room during the day whilst they were at school - without them even wanting her too, Roman would be quite happy cleaning on the weekend, but whenever they tried to tell her that she just said they were being 'ungrateful'. The safest places were their closet - their mother always let them put their own clothes away, at least, but it was a little risky - or, again, in their bag. Not feeling like taking the bigger risk, Roman decided to keep it in their bag, looking forward to being able to hang it up properly when they finally had a place of their alone.

"Roman!" a voice exclaimed, barging through the door and sliding onto their bed. "Roman, they're gone, do you wanna-"

"Remus," Roman hissed, trying their best to hide the flag still sitting in their lap, which was a little difficult to do - they ended up just wrapping the paper around it again, and slowly edging it towards their bag. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanna celebrate your birthday too! And now that the adults are gone we can- Oh!" Remus' eyes lit up with curiously. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at the terribly concealed flag in Roman's lap.

"Nothing," Roman spluttered, shoving it back into their bag. "Just a present from a friend."

"Was it a flag?" Remus guessed, moving closer to Roman. "What country was it? I don't recognise it-"

"It's not a country," Roman said, trying to make their voice sound not-so-shaky. "It's just some colours. Doesn't really mean anything."

Remus hummed.

Roman glared at him. "What?"

"I guess if you're not gonna tell me, I'll just have to look it up myself," he said, grinning. "What colours was it again - white, purple, was there a yellow in there?"

"Don't worry about it, Remus." Roman picked at their fingernails. "Seriously, it doesn't mean anything."

Remus seemed disappointed. But then a moment later, his eyes widened again. "Are you wearing eyeshadow?"

Roman blinked. "No?" Oh, wait, shit, they were, weren't they? "I mean, uh-"

"You totally are!" Remus hummed. "I didn't know guys could wear makeup. Can I try?"

Roman tried their best to not visibly cringe at Remus' statement, but figured they did anyway. Hopefully Remus wouldn't notice their discomfort, though - Remus wasn't exactly the most attentive.

Remus huffed. "Not letting me try? Rude."

"No, I-" Roman sighed. "Dad won't be too pleased about that. I should probably take it off anyway. Before they get back." They reached for their makeup wipes (also hidden in their bag) and began to take the eyeshadow off.

Remus pouted. "Why would they care?"

Roman rolled their eyes.

"No, seriously, what's wrong with guys-"

"I'm not a guy," Roman snapped, immediately regretting it afterwards. Shit.

Remus blinked. "You're... not?"

Roman breathed in. "I- I mean-"

"Are you a girl?" Remus asked. "Is that why you're wearing makeup? It would be a little weird though if I just find out that this whole time my brother has actually been my sister-"

Roman cringed. Remus wouldn't understand this - his friends were all right dicks, and Roman was well aware of their parents views. Roman doubted Remus had ever even heard of transgender and nonbinary people existing, and if he had he probably thought it was nothing more than a joke or something weird or wrong. But Roman didn't know how to get themself out of this one. They could feel themself shaking. Possibly close to tears.

"Roman?" Remus said, hanging upside down off the bed close to Roman's face. "You okay?"

Roman breathed in. "Yeah. I-" They cleared their throat, trying to pretend that they weren't about to cry. "Can I, uh, talk to you, about something?"

Apparently sensing the seriousness now in Roman's tone, Remus rolled off the bed and went to sit cross legged next to Roman, the mischievous grin fading from his face. "Yeah, of course."

Roman looked up at the ceiling, wanting to look anywhere but Remus' eyes. "Promise me you won't make fun of me?"

Remus nodded. "Promise."

"Or tell our parents?"

Remus frowned, but nodded again. "Yeah, sure."

Roman breathed in. It was now or never, they supposed. Maybe Remus wouldn't be a jerk about it. And, if he was, at least Roman knew that they'd have to cut him out of their life as well. That was unlikely, but-

God. Thinking about it was just making them procrastinate even longer. Roman breathed in, again, then quickly and quietly said, "I'm nonbinary."

Silence. Roman expected that much.

"What's that?" Remus asked, genuine confusion in his voice. Yeah - Roman has expected that too.

"I'm... More specifically I'm agender," they clarified, although that did nothing to make Remus any less confused. "It- It basically means that..." They drummed their fingers on their leg. "I'm not a boy. Or a girl. I don't... have a gender."

After a few more moments of silence, in which Roman was sure Remus was about to shout at them, or punch them, or disown them, or something along those lines. None of that happened. Instead, Remus just asked, "How does that work?"

Roman shrugged. "I- I don't know. Gender's weird. I just- I don't really feel like a boy, or a girl." Remus didn't seem to understand, but he let Roman continue talking. "Sometimes when people call me a guy or use he/him pronouns it feels... icky. I don't know. Like, it doesn't feel like me. But then she/her isn't any better."

Remus hummed. "What... What would you prefer, then?" he asked. "If you don't like he or she."

Roman breathed out. Remus was being cool about it. That was a good sign. "I've been going by they/them with my friends."

Remus nodded. "Okay. That's cool." He looked down at the floor. "Are you just my... sibling, then?"

Roman nodded. They felt like they were going to cry again, but for entirely different reasons. "Yeah, yeah, that'd be good."

Remus grinned. "Well-" He leant his head in Roman's shoulder. "-you're still the best sibling in the world."

Alright, yes, Roman was definitely going to cry. "Thanks. For being so cool with this."

"You're my sibling," Remus said. "I'm never going to hate you, y'know. No matter what you are."

[someoneirrelevant2u]

Zutara slow burn: Highschool AU (Excerpt Part 1)

(Warning for child abuse.)

Azula saw Zuko coming down the stairs. She smirked. She was never one to back down from an opportunity to make her brother feel awful about himself. It was too easy. He already hated himself and she loved pouring salt onto the wounds. Azula knew that Mai had a crush on her brother and decided to use the girl time as a chance to hurt him more.

Azula giggled in false excitement. “Let’s talk about boys!” she exclaimed. “Who has a crush on who? Mai, who do you like?”

“Well,” Mai started, looking around them cautiously. Zuko had passed into the kitchen but she knew that he would be able to hear them. When Mai saw that the coast was clear, she continued. “I have always had a crush on your brother Zuko.”

Azula gasped, feigning surprise. Ty Lee had sat up at her confession. “How could you possibly like my brother?” she said, filling her voice with her usual disgust when she referenced him.

“Yeah,” Ty Lee giggled in agreement. “He’s got that gross scar on his face.”

Azula smirked at Ty Lee’s predictable, unfiltered, shallow ways. She heard a cupboard slam shut as Mai continued, unaware of Zuko’s lingering presence. “I don’t care that he has that. I still think he is cute! Besides, it’s what on the inside that matters.”

Azula knew her brother was still caught in the kitchen forced to listen. “What’s on the inside, huh?” she laughed. “My Mom would disagree I think. After all, it was after Zuko got his scar that she left. It’s why my Father hates him so much. He blames him for making her leave, and quite frankly, so do I.”

Mai gaped at her in shock. “That is so mean Azula!”

Ty Lee decided to stay silent and pick at her hair. “I don’t think so. It’s just the truth,” Azula stated simply. ”It’s not our fault he is such a shame to our family.”

“Let’s just talk about something else,” Mai shot back, pulling her bag towards her. “Who wants to watch a movie? I brought a bunch of chick flicks.”

Ty Lee perked up excitedly. “Let me see what you have!”

Azula smiled sweetly. “I’ll go get us all something to drink,” she offered innocently, looking forward to seeing Zuko destroyed. She stood and found her way to the kitchen where sure enough, her brother was sitting in the corner with his legs pulled up to his chest and his face buried in his knees. His hands were clenched into his hair and his shoulders were shaking, as if he were crying.

She grinned at the sight. She pretended not to see him, grabbing a few fruity coolers from the fridge and going back out to her “friends”.

They were just settling into the movie when Zuko passed back through the living room, looking upset. The other girl’s didn’t notice him, but she stood up and followed him outside to the back porch.

She walked out just in time to see her brother throw one of the porch chairs off into the back yard. It clattered loudly and he sat down with a huff, twisting his hands into his hair painfully.

Azula smirked at the sight. She had caused this. It was so easy and fun, though she feigned sorrow as she sat down beside him. “What’s the matter Zuzu” she asked.

“Go away Azula,” Zuko snapped back, his voice muffled.

“Dad’s not going to be happy that you broke a porch chair,” Azula noted innocently, though she knew exactly what this revelation meant to her brother. Her father would probably beat him for it. He tensed but said nothing. 

She had grown immune to her brother being hit by her Dad a long time ago. Azula remembered it appalling her mother when she would laugh at Zuko’s bruised and weeping frame. Her mom had thought she was a psychopath, and while that had hurt, she wasn’t wrong. She knew she didn’t really care for anyone or anything. It was all about her to her, and she was okay with that. Besides, her father, the billionaire CEO of the most successful company in the world, adored her.

“What’s wrong, big brother?” she prodded, knowing very well the pain she had caused but wanted to see him crumble again for her,

He scoffed. “Like you care.”

“Is it so hard to believe that I care about you Zuko?” He rolled his eyes at her. “Someone has got to. If not me, then who? Definitely not Father, and well, I know you don’t have any friends at school.” Zuko huffed irritably. “So are you going to tell me what’s wrong or not?”

“Fine,” he snapped. “I overheard what you were saying to Mai and Ty Lee. And I heard what Ty Lee said about my scar.”

“Eavesdropping is rude, you know,” Azula accused. She knew it was ridiculous, but it was just too much fun. “Father won’t be happy to hear about it. I can’t even have friends over without you creeping!”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping!” Zuko exclaimed, his face beating red. She stifled her smile at how upset he was getting. “And I wasn’t creeping!”

“Whatever,” she shot back, dismissing his desperation. “You can’t be mad at what you overhear when you aren’t supposed to be listening.”

“You just make everything worse Azula!” her brother snarled.

“Well you’re the one stupid enough to get emotional over what 3 teenage girl’s are talking about, even if it is the truth. Just accept that you’re useless and no one wants you.”

“Go away, Azula,” he yelled suddenly, standing fast and storming back inside.

“Just trying to help you, Zuzu!” she called after him. He slammed the door.

Smirking, she stood and followed her brother into the house.

She couldn’t wait until father got home.

When Dad got home, it was hell. I hadn’t bothered to pick up the lawn chair in the back and when he confronted me about it, it was mysteriously in worse shape than it had been when I had actually thrown it. I deducted it was probably Azula who roughed it up to get me into more trouble. She had even thrown it into the pool for theatrics. 

“What happened?” my Father snarled, dragging me across the backyard by my arm with bruising force. 

 

“I don’t know! I swear! I didn’t throw it in the pool!”

“Azula said that you did. Are you calling your sister a liar?” His harsh grip rose to my hair and he shook me hard.

“No!” I cried. 

“Then what happened?” he snarled.

“I overheard what Azula and her friends were saying, and I got angry and threw the chair across the yard. That’s it, I swear!”  My Father let me go, and my body cringed against my will. My heart didn’t want me to come across as a coward, but my head reacted on instinct. “I’m sorry!”

“You should be! After all I do for you, this is what you do to repay me? You lose your temper like a child, throw my belongings across the yard and then accuse your beautiful, precious sister of being a liar?” I stayed silent. My Father hadn’t heard a word of what I had just said. ‘Your disrespect is too far this time,” he snarled, catching me by my hair again and smacking me across the face hard. I saw stars. “How dare you purposely listen in on your sister and her friends?” He struck me again, shaking me by my hair. It hurt. I didn’t matter how many times he did this, it never hurt any less. “I want you gone. Go inside and pack your things. Then get out.”

He threw me by my hair into the pool with a heavy splash. When I came up from the water, I saw him storming back into the house.

Father was kicking me out. He was kicking me out…

Where was I supposed to go?

I panicked, climbing out and running after him. “Father, wait!” I cried, dripping water all over the marble floor of the mansion. “Wait, Father! Please!”

He stopped, rounding on me. I flinched despite myself. Azula was there, watching with hungry, gleaming eyes and I instantly felt even more pathetic. “Please, don’t kick me out! I have no where else to go!”

Azula’s eyes widened in surprise before falling into a pleased smirk. 

My Father smacked me again, sending me to the floor. “I don’t care. You have 10 minutes before I throw you out myself!”

My heart fell to my stomach. What was I supposed to do? I looked up at Azula with pleading eyes. Father would listen to her if she said something! She just had to say something!

Azula just continued to watch me, a dripping mess on the floor with a bruising face and tears building in my eyes. “Sorry Zuzu, I told you to just accept that no one wants you. That’s what you get for not listening to me.” She turned to leave, but stopped to throw one last smirk over her shoulder. “Better get packing.”

It took me a minute to get over the shock that this was really happening. I stood, still soaked and dripping water behind me and headed to my room. I packed all my school work into my bookbag, threw some clothes and shoes into a duffle bag alongside my phone and headphones. I stuffed a few blankets and pillows in there as well. I closed my bedroom door behind me ruefully, heading downstairs. Neither Azula nor my father were there to spit on me one last time before I left. It almost made me feel worse that they didn’t care enough to even do that. I began my trek down our overly large driveway, tears in my eyes. What was I going to do?

I made it off my family’s property and started my journey past all the other rich houses. An hour later I found myself in town, wandering aimlessly. I didn’t have any friends I could ask to stay with for a night. I didn’t have any money…

That’s when it hit me. My Uncle Iroh lived in town! He was an old man, crazy by the way my Dad spoke of him. I had only seen him a few times as a child. I remembered his son, my cousin, Lu Ten had died. Uncle was retired military. His son had followed in his footsteps and died during his first deployment. Uncle was supposed to inherit the family business, but his loss changed him. He refused to take his place as CEO and opened a small tea shop in town instead. My grandfather had disowned him, as did the rest of my family and the corporate world. I had forgotten the man had existed until now. I doubted very much he would want to see me, but I had to try.

It was 1 am by the time I made it to the Jasmine Dragon.  I felt really bad ringing the doorbell to his closed tea shop. I only waited a few moments, my nerves getting the best of me, before turning around ready to run away. When the door opened, and I whirled around in surprise.

My Uncle Iroh looked at me with confused eyes, taking in my appearance. I felt ashamed. That’s when I realized he probably didn’t recognize me. “Uh, hi...Uncle Iroh.” His eyes fixated on the left side of my face where my scar was. “I’m Zuko. I know you probably don’t remember me but I-”

“Come in,” said the old man, stepping back and motioning to pass the threshold.

I nodded, drooping my head in shame and stepped into the small shop. The Jasmine Dragon had little booths and tables scattered throughout the small space. There were pictures of Uncle and his son hung on a few walls, along with others of what I recognized to be legendary spirits. Cinnamon and honey scented the building. It felt like home.

Home...which I had just lost…

Right. I needed to address that. I turned back to the older man who was still watching me with curiosity. “Uncle, I-”

“You’re all wet, Zuko,” he interrupted me. His words took my own away. I looked into his eyes, that were now filled with concern. I only nodded, shocked at what I was seeing. I wasn’t expecting to see kindness there, only irritation and anger at being woke by an estranged relative at this hour. “Please, go change and then take a seat. I will go make us some tea.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, setting down my bags and picking out a clean pair of jeans and tee shirt. I did as he asked and changed before sitting down in a booth near the register. Uncle came out a few moments later with two cups and a steaming pot of tea. 

He sat down across from me and poured us both a cup of the steaming brew. “Thank you,” I told him as sincerely as I could manage. I was feeling a little nerve wrecked and embarrassed about my situation, which he hadn’t even acknowledged yet. It wasn’t until I went to pull my cup closer that I realized I had handprints bruised around my wrists and upper arms, and I had completely forgotten about my face. I withdrew my body and hung my head to hide the marks, but I knew he had seen them.

“So tell me nephew,” Uncle Iroh started, sipping his tea and ignoring how uncomfortable I felt. I appreciated that he did not acknowledge it. “What brings you to my door at this hour?”

I swallowed thickly. “I needed somewhere to go and I know we don’t really know each other, but I need help. I don’t have anywhere to go and I will work for you and earn every bit of my keep, but I need help, Uncle, please…” It all came out too rushed and pathetic. I felt his gaze on me, but I couldn’t raise my own to meet his. 

“Of course I will help you,” his Uncle replied gently. “I have a spare bedroom upstairs. Let’s go get you settled in.”

My head whipped up, my eyes wide with shock. I wasn't expecting that. “Thank you,” I breathed, tears welling up in my eyes. “Thank you, Uncle.…” 

I hugged him impulsively. I gasped in horror at what I had done,withdrawing quickly in fear I may have overstepped a boundary and that he would send me away for it. Instead the old man just drew me close into a hug again. “Of course, Zuko.”

I picked up my things and followed him upstairs. It was a small apartment, quaint. It was sparsely furnished and decorated lightly. My Uncle was not a man of possessions, which I instantly appreciated. The lavish furnishings of my father’s and his friend’s homes had always made me uncomfortable. It was always just too much, or maybe it wasn’t and I just felt uncomfortable because I was never welcome.

Uncle showed me to my room. It was simple. It had a rug on the floor, a small nightstand with a lamp on it, and a twin sized bed. I set my things down on the floor. “Welcome home, Zuko,” the old man told me, smiling warmly. “I sleep right across the hall. Let me know if you need anything.” He reached out to touch me, but when I flinched he withdrew. I thought he was going to get mad, but all he said was “Goodnight” and gave me another small smile.

When he closed the door behind him, I instantly felt lost again. Why was he being so nice to me? That wasn’t normal, was it? I sat down on the bed with a heavy sigh. I felt old. I kicked off my shoes, shed my shirt, and folded my clothes into a neat pile and set them on the floor. I lay down under the sheets, exhausted. It had been such a draining day, and even though I knew that I should remain on edge, being in a stranger’s home… My father’s brother’s home, I corrected myself, I just couldn’t help but close my eyes and fall weakly off to sleep.

I will repay Uncle’s kindness.. I promised myself before the day went dark. 

I was awake before Uncle was. I had only gotten a few hours of sleep but I wanted to start the day off right with him. I didn’t know how to make tea, and didn’t want to insult him by wasting the personal materials he had in his cupboard trying, so I set out the pot and glasses for him.

I set to work making breakfast for him. I didn’t make any for myself, not wanting to assume he was just going to take full care of me. I would eat at school. My lunch tuition was paid for the year, even my Dad couldn’t take that away from me. I was just setting the table for him when I heard his bedroom door open and he waddled into the kitchen with a yawn.

“Good morning, Uncle,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. Honestly, now that he was awake, I was afraid I might have overstepped digging into his food to make breakfast for him and he would send me away.

“You made breakfast for me?” he wondered aloud with a smile. I just nodded. “Why is the table only set for one?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t want to assume anything, I’m sorry,” I told him quietly.

“Don’t be. You are more than welcome to anything in my cupboards and fridge. This is your home as long as you want it to be.”

His kind eyes met my wide ones. I just wish he would yell at me. This was all too weird. I nodded once in acknowledgement, not really believing he meant what he said. “I need to get ready for school anyway,” I said. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling guilty that I had to ask. “Could I-” I looked down at the floor. “Could I use the shower please?”

“Of course! Go right ahead!” he said cheerfully, digging into his food and again ignoring my discomfort. “I will have tea ready when you come back out.”

I nodded once. “Okay. Thank you, Uncle.”

I shook my head. I still didn’t know Uncle, and I needed to be careful. He was still my father’s brother, even though he was taking his own path. He seemed kind, but it was my only my first few hours with him. I had never trusted someone before, and I wasn’t about to change that over a few small acts of kindness.