#do i speak all the german if i speak old middle and new high german? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

manousyren · 2 years ago

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Listen listen listen

This is why I love my middle/high school (my country has a different school system than the US)

It's called "The Newest School", not because it's the most recent school made, but because the learning method was a new experiment.

In years 1 and 2 (11, 12 13 years old) you would get 'tools classes', literacy (our language), arithmatic (maths) and mentor classes. These are the bricks needed. We also got two languages, english and french (later spanish or german) .

Then we had Science, Humanics, and Arts. For two weeks we would get normal lessons. Science included Biology, Chemistry, and Physics. Humanics included Geography, Social Studies and History.

Every semester was 6 weeks with a theme. I think the first was Home, or Food, not sure exactly. We would get 2 weeks of lessons that connect with the theme and take a quick test to see how much we knew about the subject. These weren't for your grade.

After that you had to choose one of the subjects to do your research in. Yes, exactly, you had to formulate a 'head question', preferable not a closed question. Then you had to make sub questions. It's a bit like reports from elementary school but you had to ask questions. You had 2 weeks to research this, 2 hours for 10 schooldays.

Of course we got a lot of help to do this, but the questions and research were hour own.

Then the last two weeks. First, you had to prepare a presentation to the class. You had to import your studies and information to the rest. We were tested on how good the presentation was. Things like how to speak, how to engage your audience, how to make the prezi or powerpoint were things we learned about.

After all the presentations you had to make a reflection. Write a text about what you did right, what went wrong, what you want to do next time. What you would like to repeat. If you should have done something different.

Sometimes you had to rate certain elements sometimes it was just writing, depended a bit on what worked for you.

Then there still needed to be tests.

Because of the quick test after two weeks, you could see how well you knew the stuff. We all had laptops, so a lot of us had digital notes that we would share via google docs. The presentation also helped to give us additional information.

We didn't get numbers, (as is usual in my country, 1 to 10 with 5,5 passing) but 'sufficient', 'very sufficient', 'good', 'inadequete' and 'insufficient'.

Also we had almost no homework. Homework was schoolwork you didn't get to finish during school hours.

All of this was so helpful to learn stuff. I was always super excitied about my research, and having to present it and teach other people was also super helpful. Even though I don't like speaking in front of a crowd, if I need to make a presentation I'm not scared because I know what to do.

I don't feel weird giving feedback, we had to do this all the time, and good feedback can help so much.

I don't have trouble with writing a reflection, because I know the worth it has.

Anyway, I really love my old school. They give me the tools to learn things for myself. It wasn't perfect, and EVERY YEAR was a year where they would try something different, haha, so there was a lot of frustration and difference in method, but that's because it was still developing. Nowadays, there are more of these sort of education types in my country. It won't be normal for a very long time, but I'm so glad there is at least funding for it.

Really hoping education will be like this for everyone in the future.

A Twitter Thread from David Bowles:

[Text transcript at the end of the screenshots]

I'll let you in on a secret. I have a doctorate in education, but the field’s basically just a 100 years old. We don’t really know what we’re doing. Our scholarly understanding of how learning happens is like astronomy 2000 years ago.

Most classroom practice is astrology.

Before the late 19th century, no human society had ever attempted to formally educate the entire populace. It was either aristocracy, meritocracy, or a blend. And always male.

We’re still smack-dab in the middle of the largest experiment on children ever done.

Most teachers perpetuate the “banking” model (Freire) used on them by their teachers, who likewise inherited it from theirs, etc.

Thus the elite “Lyceum” style of instruction continues even though it’s ineffectual with most kids.

What’s worse, the key strategies we’ve discovered, driven by cognitive science & child psychology, are quite regularly dismissed by pencil-pushing, test-driven administrators. Much like Trump ignores science, the majority of principals & superintendents I’ve known flout research.

Some definitions:

Banking model --> kids are like piggy banks: empty till you fill them with knowledge that you're the expert in.

Lyceum --> originally Aristotle's school, where the sons of land-owning citizens learned through lectures and research.

Things we (scholars) DO know:

-Homework doesn't really help, especially younger kids.

-Students don't learn a thing from testing. Most teachers don't either (it's supposed to help them tweak instruction, but that rarely happens).

-Spending too much time on weak subjects HURTS.

Do you want kids to learn? Here's something we've discovered: kids learn things that matter to them, either because the knowledge and skills are "cool," or because .... they give the kids tools to liberate themselves and their communities.

Maintaining the status quo? Nope.

Kids are acutely aware of injustice and by nature rebellious against the systems of authority that keep autonomy away from them.

If you're perpetuating those systems, teachers, you've already freaking lost.

They won't be learning much from you. Except what not to become. Sure, you can wear them down. That's what happened to most of you, isn't it? You saw the hideous flaw in the world and wanted to heal it. But year after numbing year, they made you learn their dogma by rote.

And now many of you are breaking the souls of children, too.

For what?

It's all smoke and mirrors. All the carefully crafted objectives, units and exams.

WE. DON'T. KNOW. HOW. PEOPLE. LEARN.

We barely understand the physical mechanisms behind MEMORY. But we DO know kids aren't empty piggy banks. They are BRIMMING with thought.

The last and most disgusting reality? The thing I hear in classroom after freaking classroom?

Education is all about capitalism.

"You need to learn these skills to get a good job." To be a good laborer. To help the wealthy generate more wealth, while you get scraps.

THAT is why modern education is a failure.

Its basic premise is monstrous.

"Why should I learn to read, Dr. Bowles?"

Because reading is magical. It makes life worth living. And being able to read, you can decode the strategies of your oppressors & stop them w/ their own words.

#education #experimental education #i love my old school #long post #personal experience #kinda an essay #personal story #school #teaching #I'm not a teacher

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milkywayan · 2 years ago

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Just a heads up, if you like medieval stuff, if you like bardcore and knightcore, for the love of the gods, go on youtube or spotify and look up Qntal and Helium Vola

My two all time fav bands since I was like 15

They have the same founding members and are quite similar, but basically they take medieval songs or poems, or make their own stuff, and sing them with a mix of medieval/classic/electro music (i think the genre is either called neo-folk or medieval-electro) and it is just SO GOOD. Most of their stuff is in middle high german or latin, but also in new high german, (old)french and even some english

And, as a massive fan of Walther von der Vogelweide, the most influencial german speaking poet of the middle ages, who also comes from the same region as I do (Walther my beloved <3), they have turned a lot of his songs and poems into their music, e.g. das Palästinalied, Under den Linden, Sumer and Am Morgun fruo

Just see if you like them, you wont regret it!

#medievalcore #bardcore #knightcore #qntal #neofolk #helium vola #i feel like im making an ad #anyways they are the best listen to them asdfghjkl #personal #medieval

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winged-bat · 2 years ago

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For the headcanon ask game: 11, 12, 16, 35, 39, 40, 41, 46, 52, 57, 87, 93 & 95 for Dick Grayson, Jason Todd & Tim Drake (answer all of them for all three of them, pick and choose which ones you want to answer for who; it's totally up to you!)

Imma answer some with all if them and some with just one of them

11:What color would they spontaneouly dye their hair in the standard punk breakdown?

Tim would call his friends up in the middle of his breakdown bc he had a moment of clarity but he already put the bleach in his hair so now he’s asking for there advice (He forgot toner so now he has a very orangey blond and when he went to get bleach he also forgot to get a color so he ends up just leaving it blond cuz he’s to exhausted to go back to the store, tho he does get it touched up at a salon)

12: How many piercings do they have, which ones, and how often do they wear them?

Dick- He got his ears pierced and loved it so much he kept getting piercings all along his ears (he takes them out when going on parole so no one connects him to Dick and also so they don’t get ripped out or caught on anythinf during any fights)

Jason- He has an eyebrow piercing (He also takes it off before parole so if he gets a dent in his helmet near where the piercing is it doesn’t get pushed in)

Tim- He has an industrial piercing and he takes it out before patrol for the same reasons as Dick

16: How many languages do they speak and why did they learn them? (or some of them if the character knows more than 10)

Dick absolutely knows more then 10, he learned a lot of the basics in everything bc he grew up in a travailing circus and he becomes more fluent in them in his time with Bruce(some of these included German, Swedish, Portuguese, & Polish). Kori definitely teaches him Tamaranean as well.

35: What phobias? do they have? Do they try to hide it so people don’t laugh?

uhhm all i can think of is jason developing a really big clown phobia after he comes back bc of everything

39: What’s their pain tolerance like?

They all have a really high pain tolerance

40: What’s one of the dumbest things they’ve ever done?

Jason once tired to do a wheelie on a motorcycle at age 13 and lets just say that did not end well for him

41: What’s something they collect?

Dick collects sea shells from every beach he goes to

Jason loves collecting old copies of books

46: What kind of jewlery would they wear?

Tim has a lot of beaded or like yarn bracelets that he wears on a daily

52: What instruments can they play?

Dick can play to piano

Jason can play the violin

Tim can play the flute

57: Surprise! It’s their birthday, what kind of gifts do people get them?

Tim gets a lot of camera film, personalized photo frames, new skate broad wheels, gift cards to his favorite places, & a quilt his friends all teamed up to make

87: If they were in the ATLA universe, what would they bend based on their personality and lifestyle and NOT their magic?

Damn i really forgot everything i know about ATLA reading this but umm Dick can bend water bc he’s really flexible and when he’s leading he has back up plans so he has a flow of things

93: Do they need/wear glasses?

Jason has reading glasses

Tim needs glasses but never wears them

95: How does their anger show itself? Do they cry? hit things?

When Tims angry he has a tendency to try and hide it until it either goes away or bubbles over

#dick grayson #richard grayson #jason todd #tim drake #dc #ask game #headcannon asks #nightwing #red hood #red robin #inbox ♠︎

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ladyhindsight · 3 years ago

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Oh, wow, it's been a while since I thought about Idris and Alicante and yes, they definitely feel hollow!

Another thing that's always perplexed me is that Idris is in the middle of Europe (I think it's a little territory between Belgium and France?), that's where the Angel first descended and... it spoke English? Ang gave his warriors the English name Shadowhunters? After the first warrior, Jonathan Shadowhunter? Like?????

Also, this happened around the Middle Ages if I'm not mistaken, and I'm not even sure that the name Jonathan was used in the English language back then (John was, but John and Jonathan aren't the same and have different origins).

I would expect the Nephilim to have their own language if not several (since in the beginning they were humans from all over the place mixing with angel blood).

But no, they all speak English. And not because they live in the UK and the US, even people who never moved out of Idris (like Luke's sister) speak English. In a country between France and Belgium. lol

And it's not even a different/older/accented English with a different vocabulary/idioms/sayings. You know like a word in the UK can mean something completely different in the US?

But no, the Nephilim - even the ones in Idris, the Consul, etc. - speak the exact same English as a teenager from New York City.

My friend once called the series "Doctor Who meets Harry Potter + weapons, but make it American and WORSE than both" lol

I'd say it's also worse than all the stuff Clare has plagiarized.

So, some thoughts:

If I remember correctly, Clare once told that the accent of Idrisians is close to British accent? Like how?

Angel Raziel gave the Nephilim Idris for it to be their sanctuary and home country, but why is it in the middle of Europe specifically?

Name Jonathan is in the Old Testament and means “Yahweh has given”/”God has given” (yes I googled), so I guess it is somewhat symbolic. But Shadowhunter? I’d understand if it was an epithet given to him much later by later generations, and the name Shadowhunter came to use some other way.

Nephilim language would’ve been cool. English could’ve been eventually their lingua franca, since a lot of people in the world today do speak English because of colonialism.

Jace speaks like 500 different languages but people in Idris do not speak French or German (high or low)?

I was actually thinking about this language thing the other day. There really hasn’t been any note on how Maryse or Robert speak, and they have grown up in Idris. I’m sure they would’ve sounded different to Clary. Even Jocelyn unless she trained herself to speak with American accent. And Luke. And Valentine. And basically anyone that is from Idris.

Idioms, yes! They could’ve been something in the same vein most of the humor in the series is.

There were cake shop in Idris and that one demon destroyed it, but what kind of cakes were they? Special Shadowhunter cakes? No?

This language aspect especially goes to show how little thought went into the world-building.

#Series discussion #Reply

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mischiefandspirits · 3 years ago

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Six Eggs in the Nest

Bruce returns from his trip through time to discover that not only had his kids grown, but so had his family. An old face had reappeared in his absence.

Part of the Six for the Age of One AU

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How are you feeling?”

…

“Come on, Bruce,” Clark sighed. “As subtle as it might be, your heart rate still changes when you wake up.”

Bruce grunted, not opening his eyes.

“Good to know your trip through time didn’t affect your language skills.”

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing of note on the League’s front,” J’onn reported and Bruce finally opened his eyes to see the martian was looking over Bruce’s vitals.

“Just business as usual,” Diana agreed from the doorway.

Bruce turned to Clark, who was sitting in a chair next to Bruce’s hospital bed. “Gotham?”

Clark gave a soft smile and answered the unasked question, “The kids are fine. They’d be here, but I guess Ivy and Freeze got into a fight just as they were about to leave and Penguin tried to use the distraction of the fight to move cargo or something.”

“I checked in with them just before you woke,” Diana said before Bruce could get worked up. “In Oracle’s words, I threw Harley at Ivy and Nightwing, Signal, and Corvid smashed Freeze’s helmet so that fight’s basically won. Batwoman reported that her team had taken down Penguin and were supervising the cargo’s transport to the evidence locker before heading in.”

Bruce nodded, relaxing. “I’d assume Batwoman is Stephanie. Nightwing… Dick?”

“Yeah,” Clark said, looking smug. “And Corvid is Damian. Tim’s going by Ghost Bat now.”

“When you disappeared, they all stepped up to become heroes worthy of your legacy,” Diana said. “You would be proud of how strong they’ve been.”

“I am proud.” He simply wished he’d been there to see them through the transition. “How long was I gone?”

“A year,” J’onn said, apologetically and Bruce nodded.

That was longer than it had been for him, but not by too much. A year though…

He’d missed most of the kids’ final year of high school. He’d missed their graduation. He’d missed helping them sign up for college.

Was Duke enjoying his literature studies? Did Stephanie go through with her plans to start the pre-med track or make good on her jokes about taking a year off? Was Damian able to decide between a business or veterinary medicine major? Had Tim figured out what he wanted to do? Did Dick change his mind about not continuing school?

And little Carrie was still so young. Would she even remember Bruce?

“What’s the cover story for Bruce Wayne’s disappearance? And Batman’s?” Bruce asked, pushing the rest down. “I’ll need to figure out how to spread out my appearances so no one becomes suspicious.”

The three shared a look and Bruce’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s not that simple,” Diana said slowly.

“I’ve been standing in for Bruce Wayne with Timothy’s help,” J’onn said. “It was Duke’s idea. Richard had taken up your mantle, but he wasn’t able to convince those who really knew Batman so I was going to pretend to be you until enough time had passed that we could fake your death without it being connected to the change in Batman. Then Timothy and Damian found evidence that you were alive so we’ve kept up the ruse.”

Bruce nodded. It was a good idea, even if Bruce didn’t exactly feel comfortable knowing the martian had been impersonating him for so long. Something else caught his mind, though. “If Dick is Batman, why is he also going by Nightwing?”

“Dick was Batman for a while, but… someone else is Batman now,” Clark said, uncertainly.

“Who?”

“We don’t know. The children won’t tell us,” Diana said. “They’re as stubborn and secretive as their father.”

“About six months ago Batman just… changed,” Clark explained. “We didn’t notice at first since Richard was still the one showing up for Justice League stuff, then Nightwing appeared in the news. It was pretty obvious Nightwing was Dick. We thought that maybe he was setting up his own hero for when you came back, but Batman was seen working with Nightwing and all the rest of the boys. He’s also more…”

“Vicious?” J’onn offered. “And dramatic, but in a grim way. His fighting style is firmer as well, in a way Dick couldn’t manage no matter how much he held himself back. His Batman is more genuine than Dick’s. To the point that, from what we’ve gathered, those who realized he had replaced you already think you’re back.”

“We tried asking Dick the next time he came up for a meeting, but all he’d say was that he wasn’t ready to see us,” Diana added. “Clark went to Gotham -”

Bruce glared at the kryptonian.

“I know, I know. Your kids caught me within minutes and Stephanie gave me a lecture you’d be proud of. And don’t act like you’re not burning with curiosity. Do you even have an idea who it could be?”

“Did you find out anything?” Bruce redirected and Clark shook his head.

“I couldn’t see much because the cowl is as lead-lined as you always had it and he got out of there fast once Stephanie intercepted me. He was tall and broad like you and what skin I saw was fair, so he couldn’t be any of the boys.”

That… didn’t add up. Who would the boys have trusted with Batman? “I need to get home.”

All three looked like they wanted to argue, but J’onn unhooked him from the monitors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cave was empty when Bruce teleported in, though the still-warm cup of tea next to the Batcomputer’s keyboard and the lit-up screens showed that Alfred had recently been monitoring the comms before stepping out for a moment.

“- anything yet?” came Robin’s -- Nightwing’s -- voice when Bruce hit the button to unmute the main comm line.

“Wonder Woman said he was still unconscious when she checked in,” Oracle answered.

“Batman, Batwoman, and I will be at the cave in a minute. The two of us can head up immediately and report back,” Ghost Bat offered.

“Speak for yourself,” Batwoman huffed. “You can hang around Wonder Woman smelling like a sewer all you want, but I need a shower.”

“You will wait for us or I will give all your sweatshirts to Goliath as nesting materials, Ghost!” Corvid snapped.

“Nah, Goliath can do better than G’s hoodies. Besides, he’ll just go steal some from Metro. I’m pretty sure half the ones he’s got now are clone boy’s anyways,” laughed a voice Bruce didn’t recognize. Batman’s, he assumed. Something about it nagged at him, but he couldn’t place it. He was sure he knew the person though. Was he altering his voice for the suit like Bruce did? It didn’t have the growl, but maybe he was just making his voice deeper. If his voice was higher…

Bruce was torn out of his musings by a snarl. He turned to see a large groenendael stalking towards him. Behind the dog was a massive pillow with five other dogs atop it. A Great Dane was stretched out regally at one end, wagging his tail but otherwise not paying Bruce any attention. A lab and a pit bull were flopped over each other limply in the middle, fast asleep. A German shepherd was standing on the other end, just as alert as the groenendael without the aggression. A Chihuahua was similarly eyeing Bruce from her spot tucked under the Great Dane’s chin, kept quiet and still only by the larger dog’s presence.

Bruce wasn’t surprised the dogs had invaded the cave in his absence. He could only hope Goliath and Wiggles had continued to be cut off in their separate portions of the cave and Alfred the Cat hadn’t been allowed to torment the bats.

He knelt and held out his hand. “It’s alright, Jane. It’s just me.”

The groenendael quieted at his voice and continued approaching him. The closer she got, the more relaxed she became until she was close enough to cheerfully lick and nuzzle at his hand as an apology for growling.

“It’s okay, girl. You’re doing a good job protecting the cave while everyone’s out.”

Ace was at his side in an instant to sniff him over for injuries and nose his neck in a greeting Bruce easily returned. Titus yawned and turned away as things calmed down, which allowed Ami to leap to her feet. She gave two quick yaps at Bruce, then stomped over to curl up on a corner of the pillow. Haley and Hazel slept on.

A moment later the roar of an engine echoed through the cave, heralding the arrival of the Batmobile. Bruce’s spot was slightly hidden from the vehicle bay, so he had the chance to observe the three that climbed out.

Batwoman’s suit wasn’t too dissimilar to the one Barbara had donned during those two short years she’d held the mantle. All Stephanie had altered was swapping out the red on the bat, belt, cape lining, and wig for her signature eggplant.

Ghost Bat’s suit was black, sleeveless, and made from the same lightweight armor Tim and Dick always used. A grey bat was across the chest, the color matching his gauntlets. He wore a cape and cowl like Batwoman’s, though the cape lining and wig were grey. The wig was also cut short to match Tim’s chin-length locks instead of Stephanie’s chest-length curls.

Batman’s suit, at first glance, looked exactly like Bruce’s. On closer inspection, though, it appeared thinner, closer to the medium bulk armor Damian and Stephanie used. There were also knives hidden across the suit and the cape was shorter than Bruce kept it. His build appeared to be just as Clark described, but Bruce knew the suit enough to tell it was making him look broader in the shoulders and the boots’ soles were altered to make him look shorter. Bruce estimated him to be a few inches taller than himself and around Duke’s width. The visible portion of his face was a pale beige, distinctly different from Dick’s olive tone or the other boys’ darker skin colors.

“- soft and roomy!” Ghost was arguing. “It’s no different than you stealing Bruce’s!”

Batman shot him a perfect Bat-Glare, as the kids called it. “I don’t have any of his sweaters!”

“That’s because after you steal them, Alfred always washes them and puts them back in B’s closet,” Stephanie snorted, pulling down her cowl. She gave him a wink when he turned the glare on her. “Just because you only wear them to bed doesn’t mean we don’t notice. Also, Tim’s stolen horde isn’t just Kon’s. He also got some of mine, Cassie’s, Duke’s, Damian’s, and yours in there. Dick’s and Cissie’s aren’t baggy enough and Bart’s are scratchy. He’s also got one of Kori’s because he took it thinking it was Babs’ and now he’s too embarrassed to give it back.”

“STEPHANIE!” Ghost shouted as Batman snapped, “Is that where my green hoodie went?”

Stephanie snickered as she turned to head deeper into the cave. Her eyes caught Bruce’s and she froze.

“What’s wrong?” Batman asked and he and Ghost followed her gaze.

“Kids,” Bruce said after a moment of trying to figure out what to say.

Batman stiffened and Stephanie smiled. “Hey, B.”

Ghost shot forward, but stopped just before he reached Bruce, looking like he was barely holding back from throwing himself at Bruce.

Bruce took the decision away from him by pulling the boy into a hug. He pulled down the cowl to press a kiss to the top of Tim's head as the boy started to shake slightly with silent tears.

“So B’s here,” Stephanie said and he heard her voice echo through the comm in Tim’s ear.

“What!?”

“He’s supposed to be resting on the Watchtower.”

“Of course they couldn’t keep Father contained.”

“We’re on our way.”

“You’re here,” Tim whispered and Bruce pressed another kiss to his head.

“I am. I’m so sorry for being gone.”

“Tim’s the one who found you,” Stephanie said as she walked up. “Or, well, he’s the one who made it possible for the JL to find you.”

“I heard. I’m so proud.”

“Damian helped,” Tim muttered, burying his reddening face further into Bruce’s chest.

Bruce rubbed his back for a few seconds, then pulled away so Tim could pick up the Chihuahua nudging up against his ankle. He made sure Ami was helping Tim calm down before nodding at Stephanie. However, he soon found his gaze shifting back to the unknown factor.

Batman was still standing where he’d been the last time Bruce checked. He looked frozen in place, only his hand having shifted so that it could rest on Jane’s cheek. The groenendael was staring up at him as she licked and nuzzled at his wrist and hip in an effort to draw him back from wherever he was, though Bruce doubted he could feel it through the suit.

She must have realized it too as a moment later she stood up on her hind legs with her forepaws on Batman’s chest so she could lick at his chin instead, snapping him out of it enough that he looked away.

It was then that Stephanie glanced over her shoulder to see what Bruce was staring at. “Shoot.”

“What?” Tim asked, tucking Ami to his chest. He looked at Stephanie, then Batman, then his eyes shot to Bruce. “Oh. Crud. We really meant to do this slowly.”

“Are you two going to introduce me?” Bruce grunted.

His eyes were still on the stranger, but he could see both eighteen-year-olds open their mouths to respond. Before they could, Batman nudged Jane off and reached up to pull down his hood.

Bruce’s breath caught in his throat.

“Hey, Dad,” Jason said, running his fingers through his black and white hair.

Ace nudged Bruce’s side, just under his ribs.

He took a breath, then another.

“What part of do this slowly didn’t you get, Jay!”

“We all know he wasn’t going to rest until he figured out who I am. I’m just ripping off the band-aid.”

“This isn’t my Earth,” Bruce said.

The three shared a look and Tim pressed into Bruce’s other side. “It is.”

“My Jason is…”

“Dead?” Jason finished. “Yeah, it, uh, didn’t take. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Not the time, Jay!” Steph sighed. “Come on, Old Man. You look awful. We’ll explain once you’re sitting down.”

Bruce’s hands itched to grab Jason. To grab him and pull him close and never let him go again.

He kept his hands to himself as he followed the kids to the meeting table. They had just enough time to get settled when the elevator dinged and Alfred stepped out with a fussing Carrie in his arms.

The butler took in the group, then gave Bruce a pointed look. “You are meant to be resting.”

“I had to check on the kids.”

“Of course you did.” Alfred came forward to deposit Carrie into the arms of her honorary grandfather then set a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, Master Bruce. We’ve all missed you.”

Bruce nodded and looked down at the toddler.

She blinked up at him before smiling and poking his cheek. “Boosie back!”

“Yeah, Sweetheart, I’m back,” he said, voice hoarse.

Three motorcycles shot into the cave, the boys on them quickly jumping off. Bruce set Carrie on his knee as he took in his rapidly approaching sons.

Nightwing’s suit was similar to Ghost Bat’s, though his had sleeves and he had just a domino in place of the cape and cowl. The suit was black with a cobalt V across the chest that resembled a bird. The wings stretched all the way to the shoulders then ran down the sleeves to end at the tips of his middle and ring fingers. The blue color carried over to his domino mask and the trim of his boots. A pair of escrima sticks poked out from behind him and black pouches were connected to the waist of the suit like a built-in utility belt.

Corvid’s suit was black with a matching utility belt and carried the same moderate bulk Damian preferred. A long, hooded jacket sat over the suit, sleeveless and colored sapphire with white trim. It sat open, revealing the white outline of a bird stretched across his chest. The suit was finished off with a black domino mask with equally black lenses and tall emerald boots.

Signal’s suit looked the same as it had when Bruce was sent away, and Bruce took comfort in the fact that not everything had changed.

Stephanie ducked down for a quick hug, then removed her daughter from Bruce’s lap so she wasn’t crushed when Nightwing threw himself into it a second later.

“You’re so stupid for running off from the Watchtower, but I’m glad you’re back.”

“I’m fine,” Bruce said, holding the boy close with one arm as he reached out to grab his youngest’s hand.

Corvid squeezed back as he glanced over Bruce, then let go and left to take a seat.

After giving Bruce a quick hug around Nightwing, Signal went to grab his own seat as well. He pulled off his helmet and looked pointedly at Jason before turning back to Bruce. “Guess it’s storytime, huh?”

“You couldn’t even keep it a secret for five minutes?” Damian tisked after he’d removed his mask.

“He was ripping off the band-aid,” Tim mocked.

“We all know how obsessive B gets when someone puts a mystery in front of him,” Jason huffed, throwing his hands in the air.

“It is something you’ve all inherited from him,” Alfred hummed as he began to set cups of tea in front of everyone except Carrie, who got a sippy cup of warm milk.

Dick squirmed around so he could remove his mask and accept his cup of tea, then made himself comfortable in his father’s lap.

“You’re getting too old for this,” Bruce teased, wrapping his arms around the eighteen-year-old, and Dick shushed him.

“Where should we start?” Stephanie asked.

#batfam #batman #bruce wayne #Jason Todd #Robins are the Same Age AU #fanfiction #64ao1

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olderthannetfic · 4 years ago

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It's really surprising that you're so well versed in older fandoms and yet participate in new popular ones (that cdrama, kpop) is this by design? Im in my twenties and my interest turnover is already way slower than it used to be

You know, that’s a really interesting question. I wouldn’t say it’s by design exactly in that I do tend to just follow what strikes my fancy, and I can’t force myself to want to write fic for just anything. (I find it easier to like reading fic without serious involuntary emotional investment, but writing takes more. Vidding I can do on command most of the time, but I don’t usually bother unless I have a lot of feels or I’m fulfilling someone’s prompt.)

However, me getting into BTS was 100% due to me wanting to understand BTS enough to explain to people who weren’t very interested but wanted to know what was going on in fandom lately. Under normal circumstances, I run the dance party at Escapade, the oldest extant slash con. We borrowed vividcon’s thing of playing fanvids on the wall--all of them set to dance music--as the soundtrack for the dance party. This means I’m creating a 3-hour mixtape of fannishness, which has amazing potential to make people feel in the know about Fandom Today... and equal potential to make them feel alienated if nothing they care about shows up. Only about 100-150 people attend the con, so it really is possible to make a playlist that feels inclusive yet informative--it just takes a huge amount of work.

Every year, I do a lot of research on which fandoms are getting big and look for vids from vidders people won’t have heard of, so there is an element of consciously trying to keep up with things. Generally, I only get into these fandoms myself if I had no idea what they were and then suddenly, oops, they’re my kryptonite, like the buddy cop android plot in Detroit: Become Human, which sucked me in hard for like 6 months on the basis of a vid.

(So if you’re into cross-fandom meta and associated stuff as one of your fannish interests, you tend to have broader knowledge of different fandoms, old and new, than if you’re just looking for the next place you’ll read fic. It’s also easier to love vids for unfamiliar things than fic.)

But though I was only looking for a basic primer on BTS, BTS has 7 members with multiple names and no clear juggernaut pairing, not to mention that AU that runs through the music videos and lots of other context to explain. The barrier to understanding WTF was going on at all was high enough that to know enough to explain, I had to be thoroughly exposed... And once I was over that hurdle, oops, I had a fandom.

In terms of old vs. new, here’s the thing: kpop fandoms in English and c-drama fandoms in English right now feel a lot like anime fandom in English did in the early 00s. I had a Buddy Cops of the 70s phase in the middle, but my current fannishness is actually a return to my older fannishness in many ways.

What do I mean about them being similar?

Yes, I know some wanker will show up to say I think China, Korea, and Japan are indistinguishable, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the way that I used to routinely meet Italian and French and German fans, Argentinian and Mexican, Malaysian and Indonesian and Filipino too. English-language fandom of SPN or MCU may have all those fans from all those countries, but it feels very American most of the time. English-language fandom of a non-English-language canon is more overtly about using English as a lingua franca.

It also tends to attract people who as a sideline to their fannishness are getting into language learning and translation, which are my other passion in life after fanworks fandom. (I speak only English and Spanish and a bit of Japanese, but I’ve studied German, French, Russian, Mandarin, Old English, and now Korean.)

Nerds arguing about methods of language learning and which textbooks are good and why is my jam. This is all over the place in English-language fandoms of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean media. Those fandoms also tend to be full of speakers coming from a Germanic or Romance languages background who face similar hurdles in learning these languages. (In other words, if you’re a native Japanese speaker trying to learn Korean, the parts that will be hard for you are different than if you’re an English speaker, but you’re also usually not doing fandom in English.)

There’s also an element of scarcity and difficulty of access and a communal attempt to construct a canon (in the other sense) of stuff from that country that pertains to one’s fannishness. So, for example, a primer explaining the genre of xianxia is highly relevant to being a n00b Untamed fan, but just any old thing about China is not. A c-drama adapted from a danmei webnovel is perhaps part of the new pantheon of Chinese shit we’re all getting into, but just any old drama from decades ago is probably not... unless it’s a genre precursor to something else we care about. Another aspect here is that while Stuff I Can Access As A N00b Who Doesn’t Speak The Language may be relatively scarce, there’s a vast, vast wealth of stuff that exists.

This is what it felt like to be an anime fan in the US in 2000. As translation got more commercial and more crappy series were licensed and dumped onto an already glutted market, the vibe changed. No longer were fans desperately trying to learn enough of the language to translate or spending their time cataloguing what existed or making fanworks about a show they stuck with for a bit: the overall community focus turned to an endless race of consumption to keep up with all of the latest releases. That’s a perfectly valid way of being fannish, but if I wanted that, I’d binge US television 24/7.

Anime fandom got bigger, but what I liked about anime fandom in English died, and I moved on. (Okay, I first moved on to Onmyouji, which is a live action Japanese thing, but still.)

Hardcore weeaboos and now fans of Chinese and Korean stuff don’t stop at language: people get excited about cooking, my other other great passion. Times a thousand if the canon is something like The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty, which is full of loving shots of food preparation. People get excited about history! Mandarin and Japanese may share almost nothing in terms of grammar or phonology, but all of East Asia has influence from specific Chinese power centers historically, and there are commonalities to historical architecture and clothing that I love.

I fell out of love with the popular anime art styles as they changed, and I’m not that into animation in general these days. (I still own a shitton of manga in art styles I like, like Okano Reiko’s Onmyouji series.) I’ve become a filmmaker over the last decade, and I’m very excited about beautiful cinematography and editing. With one thing and another, I’m probably not going to get back into anime fandom, but it’s lovely to revisit the cultural aspects I enjoyed about it via live-action media.

BTS surprised me too, to be honest. I really dislike that early 90s R&B ballad style that infests idol music (not just Korean--believe me, I resisted many rounds of “But Johnny’s Entertainment though!” back in the day). While I like some of the dance pop, I just don’t care. But OH NO, BTS turn out to be massive conscious hip hop fanboys, and their music sounds different. I have some tl;dr about my reactions in the meta I wrote about one of my fanvids, which you can find on Dreamwidth here.

But back to your comment about turnover: I know fans from the 70s who’ve had one great fannish love and that’s it and more who were like that but eventually moved on to a second or third. They’re... really fannishly monogamous in a way I find hard to comprehend. It was the norm long ago, but even by the 90s when far more people were getting into fandom, it was seen as a little weird. By now, with exponentially more people in fandom, it’s almost unheard of. I think those fans still exist, even as new people joining, but we don’t notice them. They were always rare, but in the past, only people like that had the stamina to get over the barriers to entry and actually become the people who made zines or were willing to be visibly into fanfic in eras when that was seen as really weird. On top of that, there’s an element of me, us, judging the past by what’s left: only people with an intense and often single passion are visible because other people either drifted away or have seamlessly disappeared into some modern fandom. They don’t say they’re 80 or 60 or 40 instead of 20, so nobody knows.

In general, I’m a small fandoms and rare ships person. My brain will do its best to thwart me by liking whatever has no fic even in a big fic fandom... (Except BTS because there is literally fic for any combination of them, like even more than for the likes of MCU. Wow. Best fandom evar!) So I have an incentive to not get complacent and just stick with one fandom because I would very soon have no ability to be in fandom at all.

My appetite for Consuming All The Things has slowed way down, but it also goes in waves, and a lot of what I’m consuming is what I did back in 2000: journal articles and the limited range of English-language books on the history of m/m sex and romance in East Asia. It’s not so much that I have a million fandoms as that I’m watching a few shows as an expression of my interest in East Asian costume dramas and East Asian history generally.

I do like to sit with one thing and experience it deeply rather than moving on quickly, but the surface expression of this has changed depending on whether I’m more into writing fic or more into doing research or something else.

But yes, I do do a certain amount of trying to stay current, often as a part of research for fandom meta or to help other people know what’s going on. Having a sense of what’s big doesn’t automatically mean getting into all those things, but I think some fans who are older-in-fandom and/or older-in-years stop being open to even hearing what’s new. And if you’ve never heard of it, you’ll never know if you might have liked it.

#fandom meta #fandom history #Anonymous

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rhosyn-du · 3 years ago

Text

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter One

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321 Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3, Tumblr Master Post

Chapter One

“Lightwood’s Mortuary, you stab ‘em, we slab ‘em. How may I direct your call?”

“You know,” Izzy said, “that joke would land a lot better if you hadn’t turned green last week when I mentioned getting to do my first cadaver dissection.”

“First of all,” Jace said, abandoning his laptop in favor of flopping back onto his bed, “it’s creepy that you say ‘getting to’ instead of ‘having to.’ And second of all, no one wants to hear about how much fun you had slicing up dead bodies over Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Max wanted to hear about it.”

“Max also can’t wait to get to middle school because he heard you get to use actual fire in science class,” Jace pointed out.

“Max is just into science like his big sister,” Izzy countered breezily. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Christmas.”

“Please,” Jace said with far more enthusiasm than the situation probably warranted. “I’m desperate enough for any distraction that will take me away from trying to memorize third declensions that I would love to discuss whatever family holiday drama is so colossal I’m hearing it from you instead of Alec. Is Robert planning to show up uninvited to Christmas dinner with his girlfriend again? Oh! Did Mom finally snap and kill him? Is that why Alec isn’t calling? Is he helping her hide the body?”

“Oh my god,” Izzy laughed. “Dad and Annamarie are spending the holidays in Provance with her family, and there are no bodies to be hidden. This is what you get for taking Latin instead of Spanish like a sane person.”

“This coming from a woman who’s studying both,” Jace pointed out.

“Yeah, because a basic understanding of Latin and fluency in Spanish will both help me get into med school, and I need all the help I can get if I’m going to get into Grossman. Besides, I’d never imply anyone in this family is sane. If you studied more, you’d know that ‘Lightwood’ is just Latin for ‘totally fucking cracked.’”

“Please,” Jace snorted. “It’s not even a Latinate name. It’s Germanic. ‘Lightwood’ is Old English for ‘totally fucking cracked.’ Speaking of which, what’s the Christmas disaster?”

“It’s not a disaster exactly,” Izzy hedged, and Jace felt a sudden frisson of actual unease. Izzy normally had no problem speaking her mind. “It’s not a disaster at all, actually. It’s just. I invited someone.”

“Oh.” Jace relaxed. He didn’t know why Izzy was making such a big deal out of this. In the years since the divorce, Maryse had often encouraged her kids to invite any friends without a place to go to join them for holidays. Izzy’s own roommate had come for Thanksgiving last year. “That’s cool.”

“No,” Izzy said, like he was missing something obvious. “Jace, I invited someone. Someone I’m seeing. Seriously.”

“Oh,” Jace said again, this time with dawning comprehension. “That’s great, Iz. I’m happy for you. Wait, Mom’s not doing her overprotective, no-one-is-good-enough-for-my-children thing again, is she? Is that why you called, you need me to run interference?”

“No, no,” Izzy reassured him, although her voice still held an underlying tension. “Mom’s been great, actually. They knew each other already, so that probably helps.” Jace heard a shaky inhale before Izzy continued. “You, um. You know her, too, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Jace said with forced ease, wracking his brain for any clue as to what could have Izzy so freaked out. Whatever it was, Jace wasn’t going to add to her stress. As far as he knew, Isabelle had never even been serious enough about someone before to even use the term girlfriend or boyfriend, let alone bring them home for Christmas. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“It’s Clary,” Izzy said in a rush. “I’m dating Clary.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis, and Jace was glad he was already lying down.

“Clary?” he repeated. “M—” He just barely stopped himself from saying “my Clary.” Because she wasn’t, not anymore. Not for a long time. “Morgenstern?” It was a clumsy recovery, but it was the best he could manage. “You’re dating Clary Morgenstern?”

Jace and Clary had met at the beginning of Jace’s junior year of high school. Clary, a year younger, had just lost her mom, and the two initially bonded over the shared experience of having lost parents. But Clary was fierce and bold and so full of passion even in the depths of her grief that Jace really couldn’t help falling in love with her. They’d dated for nearly two years—practically forever in high school terms—and even though they’d both known they were growing apart by the time Jace had to choose between his first-choice college in Boston and staying in New York to go to NYU, Clary would always hold a special place in Jace’s heart as his first love.

“Yeah,” Izzy said on a heavy exhale. “For a while now. That—that’s why I called. I didn’t want it to be weird, you know? For us all to just show up and for it to be a surprise. But I guess I probably shouldn’t have done it over the phone, either. I just didn’t think—”

“Izzy,” Jace said, much more calmly than he felt. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

“God, I should have told you sooner,” Izzy continued as though he hadn’t even spoken. “I just knew it probably would be weird for you, so I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure—”

“But you are now,” Jace interrupted again. It wasn't really a question. “Sure.”

“Yeah,” Izzy breathed. “I’m so sure.”

“Then it’s not weird,” Jace lied. “I mean, come on, my sister is dating someone who makes her happy and who I know will treat her right. What kind of idiot would I have to be to complain about that?”

“Really?” Izzy pressed. “Because I told Clary I wanted to talk to you before we finalized plans. So, if it is weird for you, or even if you just don’t want to be the only single person at the table on Christmas—”

“I won’t be,” Jace interrupted.

There was a pregnant pause, and then Izzy squealed so loud Jace had to pull the phone away from his ear.

“Oh my god, Jace! That’s amazing! Why didn’t you just say you were bringing someone, too, you jackass? Do you know how worried I’ve been about telling you about me and Clary?”

Which wasn’t what he’d meant at all—he’d only meant that Maryse was single, too—but Jace couldn’t resist the excitement in Izzy’s voice, not after her earlier panic.

“If I’d known you were all freaked out, I would have said something sooner,” Jace improvised. “It’s kind of new, and I haven’t even had the chance to tell Mom yet.”

“Let me,” Izzy insisted. “I’ve been trying to get her to admit that she and Luke are an item for ages, and maybe knowing that we’re all happily attached will be the push she needs.”

“Hold up. Mom…and Clary’s stepdad?” Jace was starting to wonder if this was some bizarre stress nightmare brought on by impending finals.

“Yup,” Izzy confirmed, popping the “p.” “They’re not even subtle about how much time they’re spending together, but Mom keeps talking about how they’re ‘just old friends.’” Jace could practically hear the eye roll.

“Anyway,” she continued, “if I leave now, I can catch Mom closing up the bookshop and maybe finally get her to crack. Don’t worry about Christmas plans. I’ll take care of everything. Talk to you later!”

“Iz, wait,” Jace started, but he was interrupted by the telltale beep of the call ending.

Jace stared at his phone, wondering how, exactly, he’d managed to make such a disaster of things. He couldn’t deal with this right now, he decided, tossing his phone aside. He just had to get through finals, and then he could come up with some excuse for why his nonexistent girlfriend couldn’t make it for Christmas. An excuse that wouldn’t make Izzy suspicious. Or Clary. Or Alec. Or— Fuck. Not thinking about it.

He turned his attention back to his laptop only to realize after several minutes of staring blankly that he wasn’t prepared to think about Latin anymore, either. Fuck it. He was going to spend the rest of the evening on the couch, drinking beer and watching stupid people doing stupid things on TV and thinking about absolutely nothing at all.

Because Jace just couldn’t catch a break, he found both the couch and TV already in use. He wanted to be annoyed, especially since he knew this was at least the dozenth time this semester his roommate had watched Return of the Jedi. Part of him was annoyed. But another part of him was…not annoyed. And that was yet another thing Jace wasn’t going to think about.

Jace’s first impression of Simon Lewis, when he’d walked into History and Literature of Music their freshman year, had been that he was kind of hot, in a nerdy way. His second impression, when he actually talked to Simon a few days later, was that the guy was annoying as hell. Over the course of the year, as they somehow ended up hanging out with the same group of friends, it became a tolerable sort of annoying. So tolerable, in fact, that when Jace found himself desperate for a roommate the next summer when Raj bailed on him last-minute, he’d agreed to let Simon have the second room in the surprisingly affordable apartment he’d found.

Jace’s third impression of Simon came four days after they’d moved in together, when he happened to be walking down the hallway at the exact moment Simon stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, a stray droplet of water trailing down his surprisingly well-defined abs. In that moment, Jace must have lost his mind, because he had the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to follow the path of that droplet with his tongue and, oh. Oh no. Jace had been wrong this entire time. Simon wasn’t just annoying. He wasn’t just nerd-hot. He was annoyingly hot.

And Jace was maybe just a little bit in trouble.

Because he’d seen the kinds of people Simon dated. Thoughtful. Driven. Well-adjusted. Unlike Jace in pretty much every way that mattered. Not that Jace dated, but he wasn’t the kind of person Simon hooked up with, either, he was pretty sure.

(Jace confessed his fourth impression of Simon to Maia several months later, after many, many shots of tequila. Maia laughed at him for a solid five minutes, but she also poured them another round and never mentioned it again after they sobered up because she was actually a pretty good friend despite how much she always seemed to enjoy Jace’s suffering.)

“What’s wrong?” Simon asked around a mouthful of instant ramen. Jace refused to acknowledge that the way his cheeks puffed out when he ate was cute.

“Just.” Jace shook his head. “Holidays. Family stuff.”

“Your sister planning to make Christmas dinner again?” Simon asked.

“Worse,” Jace said, flopping onto the other end of their stained Goodwill couch. “She’s dating my ex.”

Simon winced. “Ouch, dude.” Simon poked at his noodles with a pair of well-used disposable chopsticks. “You still have feelings for your ex?”

“What? No, of course not. It was ages ago, and we were practically still kids. And the breakup was mutual.” He made a face. “But Izzy’s bringing her home for Christmas.”

“Okay, yeah, that could be a little awkward,” Simon conceded.

“It gets worse,” Jace admitted. “When she told me, I kind of panicked and said I was bringing someone home, too.”

Simon frowned. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“I’m not,” Jace told him. “Which is kind of the problem.”

“Wow. You really know how to make things difficult for yourself.”

“Thanks,” Jace said. “Very helpful.”

Simon shrugged, then said, as casual as if he were offering to toss Jace’s towels in with his to make a full load at the laundromat, “You could always take me home with you.”

Jace stared. “What?”

“I mean, I’m going to be in the city anyway,” Simon continued, “and it’s not like my family does Christmas. I think Mom and Becky can manage the traditional Chinese takeout and Fast and Furious marathon without me.”

“Your family watches The Fast and the Furious on Christmas?” It was the only part of that Jace was emotionally prepared to process.

“It used to be Die Hard, but Mom’s got a thing for Vin Diesel, so now we alternate years.”

Jace stared a moment longer, waiting for any of this to make sense. On the television, Boushh threatened Jabba with a thermal detonator.

“Right,” Jace said when it was clear the situation wasn’t going to make sense of itself. “Okay. Rewind to the part where I’m supposed to take you home with me for Christmas and, what, pretend you’re my boyfriend?”

He could picture it all too easily. Simon wielding his enthusiastic charm to keep Izzy out of the kitchen while Jace helped Maryse make dinner. Simon joining Alec in coaxing Jace toward the piano when it was time to sing carols. Simon flushed and smiling after a couple mugs of Magnus’s deceptively alcoholic eggnog. Simon’s hand in his because that’s just something boyfriends do.

It was a horrifyingly tempting prospect.

Jace pushed those thoughts away, crossing his arms over his chest and directing all the scorn he felt at himself into the stare he leveled at Simon. “What’s that supposed to accomplish other than giving me a headache?”

“Hey,” Simon said, setting the dregs of his ramen down on their secondhand Ikea coffee table, “I’ll have you know that I make an excellent boyfriend.”

That wasn’t exactly news. The fact that Simon was friends with basically all of his exes said as much. But Jace wasn’t about to let on that he paid that much attention to Simon’s dating habits. Or to pass up such a good opening. “That why you’re single?”

“Not the one currently desperate for a holiday date here, pal,” Simon pointed out.

“I don’t know, you seemed pretty eager to be my holiday date just a second ago,” Jace said, adding a wink just to be obnoxious.

“It was an offer, jackass. One which I now deeply regret.”

“Which you should,” Jace told him, turning to the TV and pretending to watch. “Now we can both forget this conversation ever happened, and I can go back to figuring out what I’m going to tell my family about why my nonexistent significant other can’t make it for Christmas this year.”

“Right,” Simon muttered, picking up his bowl and turning his own attention back to the movie.

Jace told himself he didn’t feel just the tiniest bit disappointed.

“The thing is,” Simon said several minutes later, as Boba Fett tumbled into the Sarlaac pit, “my cousin Rachel is getting married on Valentine’s Day. And my Bubbe Helen is still pretty cranky with me for breaking up with Maia.”

Jace frowned at him. “You and Maia dated for like a month and a half. Over a year ago.”

“Yeah, well,” Simon said, “Bubbe Helen really liked her, but I think maybe that’s because Maia’s the only person I’ve ever brought to a family function. So, I was thinking maybe if I brought someone else to Rachel’s wedding, she’d get the hint and drop the Maia thing. And then you suddenly needed someone to take home for Christmas, and I thought we could, you know, help each other out.”

It was a terrible idea, and Jace meant to say so. He really did. But what came out of his mouth instead was, “You want to introduce me to your grandmother?”

“I mean,” Simon said with a shrug, “she’d probably be happier if you were Jewish, but I honestly think she’d be happy to see me with anyone who’s not a total asshole. Ever since she found out Maia and I aren’t together anymore, she’s been acting like I’m going to end up a lonely old maid or something, which I totally don’t get, because A, I’m only twenty-one, and B, she doesn’t think it’s a problem that Becky’s single and Becky’s two years older than me.”

“Glad to know I meet the very minimal requirement of not being an asshole.”

“Not a total asshole,” Simon corrected with a teasing grin.

“You’re really making a compelling case for trying to convince our families that we’re a couple,” Jace said drily. But he was maybe just a little bit weak for Simon’s smile, so he added, “But you might as well tell me how exactly you think this would work. Theoretically.”

“Theoretically,” Simon repeated. “Right. Well, we’d need to come up with a game plan, obviously. And rules. Rules that we actually follow, because that’s where things like this always fall apart, when someone ignores the rules.”

“Where things always fall apart,” Jace repeated. “Is this something you do often?”

“What? No! I just mean like in movies and stuff. Fake dating is practically its own genre, so we have a ton of examples for how not to do it, and…” Simon frowned as his voice trailed off. “And now that I’m saying this out loud, I’m realizing how dumb it sounds. You’re right. We should forget this conversation ever happened.”

“Or,” Jace said slowly, knowing he was going to regret it but unable to stop himself, “we could spend some time coming up with a plan and then decide if we think it will work.”

“Wait, really?” The slow grin spreading across Simon’s face did nothing to ease Jace’s sense of impending doom, but it did fill him with a soft warmth that made the doom easier to ignore.

“Why not?” Jace shrugged with practiced nonchalance. “I’m done with classes at noon tomorrow if you want to do it then.”

“I’ve got a break from then till three if you don’t mind meeting near campus,” Simon said. “Say, Java Jones at twelve-thirty?”

“Sure,” Jace agreed to the background of Jabba’s sail barge exploding. He hoped that was less metaphorical than it felt.

~~~

“I thought we were planning a couple of fake dates, not staging a major military operation,” Jace said as he surveyed the notebooks and stacks of paper strewn across the rickety cafe table in front of Simon.

“Oh, sorry,” Simon said, hastily shoving exactly one of the many notebooks into his backpack. “I was just reviewing notes for my econ final while I waited.”

“Is all of this really necessary?” Jace asked, attempting to clear enough room on the table for his coffee and the banana muffin that was attempting to pass for lunch.

“It’s so necessary,” Simon told him, reaching over to steal a piece of Jace’s muffin. “I don’t want to end up like Melissa Joan Hart in My Fake Fiancé.” He popped the piece of muffin into his mouth. “Or Melissa Joan Hart in Drive Me Crazy. Oh! Or even worse, Melissa Joan Hart in Holiday in Handcuffs.”

“I have no idea what you just said.”

Simon sighed heavily. “I’m saying we need clear, well-defined rules if this is going to work.”

“Is rule number one ‘don’t be Melissa Joan Hart’?” Jace asked, snatching his muffin away when Simon reached for it again and taking a pointed bite.

“No,” Simon said, with far more seriousness than Jace thought the situation warranted. “That’s rule number two. Rule number one,” he continued, opening a blue notebook to a fresh page, “is ‘absolutely no sex.’”

Jace choked on his muffin.

“If there’s one thing everyone seems to agree with, it’s that things always break down when that rule gets broken,” Simon continued as though Jace weren’t struggling to breathe around a mouthful of muffin and why Simon thought they even needed a rule for that.

Jace washed the remaining crumbs of muffin down with a generous swig of coffee, then leaned back in his chair with a deliberately cocky grin. “I mean, I know I’m damn near irresistible, but do you really think you need a rule to keep from jumping me?”

“Rule three,’’ Simon said, scribbling furiously in the notebook, “treat each other with the same respect we’d treat people we’re actually dating.”

“Hey, I would have the same question for someone I was actually dating.”

Simon looked up from the notebook. “That explains so much about your dating history.”

Jace flipped him off, and Simon flashed him a shit-eating grin. “Nope, sorry, rule one. But,” he continued, serious once again, “we should have rules about what kind of physical affection we are comfortable with. Like, I know we don’t normally do hugs, but it would be weird if we never hugged in front of your family if we were dating, right? What about holding hands, is that too much? And what about kissing? I’m definitely cool with cheek kisses, but I don’t know—”

“Simon,” Jace interrupted before he could get too worked up. Or make Jace think about more things he really shouldn’t be thinking about. “You’re allowed to hug me. And hold my hand. Honestly, I’m sure I’d be fine with anything you’re comfortable doing in front of my family, so how about we just go with this: casual touches are fine and for anything else, I’ll follow your lead.”

The look Simon gave him was so searching that Jace almost worried for a second that Simon would be able to see right past his crossed arms and feigned nonchalance to the part of him that was less worried about showing physical affection than how much he wanted it, the part that avoided hugging Simon because he liked it.

“Okay,” Simon said finally. “But you have to promise you’ll tell me if anything I do bothers you even a little bit.”

“You mean like singing Shake It Off at the top of your lungs in the shower?” Jace asked.

“That was one time!” Simon protested. “I was up all night studying and under the influence of too many energy drinks. We agreed never to mention it again.”

“No, you told me never to mention it again and I laughed at you.”

“See, this is why we need rules. You’re already breaking number three.”

“Yeah, because we’re not pretend-dating yet,” Jace said. “That one might be a little rough, but I’m sure I can manage with some practice.”

There was that searching look again, but then Simon nodded like Jace had said something particularly insightful. “You’re right, we should practice.”

“We—what?”

“If we’re going to convince people who actually know us that we’re dating, then we should practice first,” Simon said, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. “Not just the rules we know are going to be hard, but all of it, so we can work out any kinks in the plan before showtime.”

And maybe it was reasonable, but it was one thing to put on a show for his family, for Simon’s family, for a few days at a time in places that might be familiar to each of them individually, but that weren’t theirs. It was entirely another thing to do it here, in the cafe they went to at least twice a week, or on campus where they’d first met and had to keep on attending classes for at least another year, or even worse in the apartment they shared, around their friends—

“I really should have thought of it earlier,” Simon continued, blissfully unaware of Jace’s inner turmoil. “My best friend back home, she’s an amazing liar. Like, seriously, she got away with everything when we were kids. But any time she needed me to back up her story, she’d make me practice with her like a hundred times until she knew I could convince her mom and stepdad, even after I got good enough that I didn’t have to practice to convince Mom. Man, those two could sniff out the tiniest discrepancy in any story. Like, if normal parent bullshit detection is a one, my mom’s is probably a solid three, but Fray’s parents? Eleven, easy.”

“I’m pretty sure no one I’m related to has supernatural bullshit detection,” Jace told him. “And it’s common knowledge I’m a better liar than you are, so if you can fool your mom without practice, so can I.”

“Maybe,” Simon conceded. “But a little bit of practice couldn’t hurt, right?”

Jace was pretty sure that it could hurt, actually, but he was also pretty sure he was the only one in danger of getting hurt, so it probably wasn’t worth consideration. Especially weighed against the hopeful enthusiasm in Simon’s expression.

“What did you have in mind?”

“We could start by pretending we’re on a date right now,” Simon suggested. “We’re already sharing a muffin. So, just treat me like you’d treat anyone you were on a date with.”

“My dates don’t usually involve this many notebooks,” Jace told him. “And if my date stole my muffin, the date would be over.”

“Come on, you’re not even trying,” Simon said, gathering up the papers and notebooks. “You’d really ditch your date over a muffin?”

“Absolutely,” Jace insisted. “They’d have to be seriously good in bed to make up for it, and I’m pretty sure rule number one says you’ll never get muffin-stealing privileges.”

“If the biggest benefit to sleeping with you is getting to share your muffins, then I’m not the one missing out,” Simon told him.

“You selling your body for muffins now, Lightwood?” an amused voice interrupted. “I bet I know a few people who’d toss a bran muffin or two your way for a chance at that ass.”

“Which is why you’re not my pastry-pimp, Roberts,” Jace said, smirking at Maia as she helped herself to one of the table’s empty chairs. “I only trade this ass for top tier, gourmet muffins. If your muffins don’t have at least two Michelin stars, I’m not interested.”

“I give him a week until he’s working corners for Entenmann’s,” Simon told her. “He was just threatening to walk out on our date over a bite of mediocre banana nut.”

Maia’s eyes widened. “Your— Oh, shit, sorry,” she said, scrambling out of her chair and throwing them both an apologetic smile that Jace was pretty sure wouldn’t be directed at him if he were sitting with anyone other than Simon. “I swear I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just thought you were studying or something. You guys have fun, and I’ll just—”

“It’s a practice date,” Jace interrupted, “not an actual date. And Simon’s a dirty muffin thief who won’t even put out, so I’m not sure it really even qualifies as any kind of date.”

Maia looked between the two of them, then slowly lowered herself back into the chair. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but what exactly is a ‘practice date,’ and why are the two of you on one?”

“Jace needs a fake boyfriend to take home for Christmas, and I need a fake date for Rachel’s wedding,” Simon explained, snatching the last bit of Jace’s muffin without remorse. “And we thought we should practice dating before trying to convince our families that were actually, you know, together.”

“That’s a terrible idea, and I regret any part I played in the two of you becoming friends,” Maia said flatly.

“Yeah, that would probably worry me more if you didn’t say that like twice a week,” Simon told her.

“Oh god, Simon, what did you let Jace talk you into now?” another voice asked, and suddenly there were three more people crowding around their tiny table, because apparently all of their friends were at Java Jones today. Which, in retrospect, Jace should have expected, given how often they all hung out there.

“It was actually my idea,” Simon told Maureen, sliding his chair closer to Jace’s to make room for her, Bat, and Lily. “Jace is taking me home to meet his family over the holidays, and I’m taking him as my date to my cousin’s wedding.”

This proclamation was met with a stunned silence that was broken when Lily turned to Jace and punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“That’s for abandoning me, jerk,” Lily told him. “Not that I can really blame you—either of you,” she added, giving both Jace and Simon an appreciative once over, “‘cause damn—but I thought we had an understanding.” She sighed heavily. “Now that you’ve gone over the dating Dark Side, who’s going to be my wingman? You’re probably going to start doing all kinds of relationship-y things and talking about feelings—” she said it like it was a dirty word “—and crap like that.”

“I am not going to talk about my feelings,” Jace said, at the same time that Simon said, “We’re not actually together. We’re just pretending.”

“They’re planning to try to convince their families they’re dating even though they’re not,” Maia explained. “Because they apparently think that’s not just a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Oh,” Lily said, sounding oddly disappointed.

“Fifty bucks,” Bat announced, “says that when this blows up in their faces, Jace is the first one to break down and call Maia in a panic.”

“Hey,” Jace protested.

“Oh, you’re on,” Maureen said, ignoring Jace entirely. “Sorry, Simon, but no one panics quite like you.”

“I’m in,” Lily said, “and I agree with Maureen that Simon will break first, but his call to Maia will be interrupted by Jace calling five minutes later.”

“Why am I the one getting all of the panicked calls?” Maia wanted to know.

“Because you’re the only person at this table who isn’t an asshole,” Simon told her, “but nothing’s going to go wrong, let alone panic-inducing levels of wrong, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Dude,” Jace said, “she’s an asshole to me.”

“You like it,” Maia and Simon said in unison, causing the rest of the table to collapse into laughter.

“Okay, fine,” Maia said around her giggles several minutes later, “if you’re all betting, then count me in, too. I bet that these fools,” she looked pointedly at Jace, then at Simon, “don’t call me when this whole thing goes to hell, but I somehow end up having to haul their asses out of trouble, anyway.”

“I rescind my assessment of you as not an asshole,” Simon told her.

“I’d think twice about calling the woman who’s going to haul your ass out of trouble an asshole if I were you,” Bat said.

“Back to this pretending to be together thing,” Lily said. “What exactly does that entail?”

“That’s actually what we were trying to figure out when you guys showed up,” Simon told her. “We started a list of rules, but we only made it to four so far.”

“Your list should definitely include making out,” Lily said decisively. “Having made out with both of you, I can say with confidence that you’re definitely missing out if you don’t. In fact, you should try it now so we can let you know if it looks authentic.”

“You just want to watch them make out,” Maureen said.

“Yes,” Lily told her. She didn’t add ‘duh,’ but it was implied. “I always want to make hot people make out. But in this case, I’m also being helpful.”

The ensuing argument over the line between helpful and self-serving was thankfully cut short by the opening guitar line of Blonde Redhead’s Barragan.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta take this,” Simon said, holding up his phone. “I’ve been playing voicemail tag with Becky all week.” He looked at Jace. “Talk more about this later?”

“Sure,” Jace told him.

“Tell your sister I said hi,” Maia called after Simon as he headed away from the cafe’s crowd.

“You know,” Jace told her in a low voice, “you could always tell her hi yourself instead of always asking Simon to pass messages.”

Maia gave him an unimpressed look. “After everything I just heard, I’m pretty sure you’re the last person in this room I should be taking relationship advice from.”

“Bite me,” Jace told her, but he didn’t disagree.

#shadowhunters #shmb2021 #jimon #jimon fic #jace wayland #simon lewis

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Chapter 5. We have stucky, we have stevesambucky friendship, we have a new place to live and strange being a good guy because tony definitely ranted at him. Also, we're beginning the creepy part of the plot. I have decided that sam will be one of the main platonic characters in this story because I love sam.

fun fact: I used to be a creepypasta writer! Going back to my roots here, hehe.

Things had stated changing, for better or worse, much sooner than I had been prepared for - but was anyone, ever, really ready for the next big step? Certainly not me - the view that greeted me after I'd finished my shift at Jeremy's was peculiar and unexpected, so I froze, eyebrows high at the two super-soldiers parked, once again, illegally, right in front of the entrance door.

"Hi, doll," Bucky was reclined against his boyfriend comfortably, his bike standing a pace behind Steve's, who nodded companionably, a sheepish grin on his face.

"G'day," I nodded, eyeing them warily. "I think I know where this is going..."

"No, no, nothing like that," both men frantically waved their hands around, Steve coming up close to approach me slowly. "You're not in trouble. I came out here to say thanks," giving a sappy look to the grouch that was his boyfriend, Steve reached into his pocket and handed me a slip of paper. "Just, uh..."

"Those are our phone numbers. Don't hesitate to give either one of us a call if someone bothers you," Bucky took over the stammering blonde, shaking his head at the soft blush that blossomed on the good captain's face. The brunette wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders with a shy smile of his own. "Or if you, I don't know, need someone to carry your groceries or something," he snorted. "The punk wouldn't leave it alone until we came out personally to thank you, the sap."

The laughter bubbled up from my chest as I grabbed and pocketed the paper, throughly amused and at the endearing gesture. "Sure, thanks."

"And, uh," Bucky's eyes briefly looked to the side. "We'd appreciate if you keep the status of our relationship to yourself for now. We're not, like, officially out yet."

I froze in place, mouth falling open. Surely they were aware that anybody with a functional pair of eyes could see that they were much more than 'good, lifelong friends'. "No problem, guys. Lemme know if anyone gives you shit about it though, this place," I gestured to the café behind me, "is strictly paparazzi and homophobe-free."

Steve's grin grew even more genuine. "Yeah, we heard all about it from Tony and Stephen. Said 'twas the only place they go these days."

I wasn't aware of that. "It's the paps, isn't it?" I remembered Tony's remarks.

Bucky shook his head, the metals of his prosthetic arm whirring as it recalibrated. "Not only. The public hasn't had the best reaction to a man goin' out with a man," the brunette looked away to the side, where Steve's face had fallen considerably. "And Tony's an eccentric rich man. We're jus' two soldiers. The US Army won't be too happy if we... Came out," both men were crestfallen yet determined.

I had a hunch nothing would be able to separate the two - seeing as not even seventy-odd years and brainwashing and ice couldn't keep the captain and his sarge apart, I doubted that a few government weasels could successfully do the job. Even so, it was unpleasant, to say the least, to see them deny themselves something that technically was perfectly fine in the 21st century.

I chewed on my lip, gathering my wits. "I've clocked out, I can tell you this as a friend- as a person. You don't owe the army jack shit. They do not own you, you are your own person that they experimented their German knockoff steroids on. Respectfully, fuck that shit." I firmly stated my opinion, figuring that there should have been at least someone that told Steve that he is more than his star-spangled uniform and giant metal frisbee.

The blonde scrunched his eyebrows together, fingers gripping onto his belt until the knuckles went white, the hard line of his jaw set firm.

Bucky laugh took me by surprise. "Agreed, doll. I'm too old to be hiding in back alleys and shit," he clapped on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Although I'm happy enough with just not going to prison for bein' in love with this idiot."

"Jerk," Steve's responding pout was downright adorable now that I knew the circumstances surrounding their relationship.

Which wasn't exactly surprising. As a barista, I knew my fair share about my regulars' love lives, their jobs, their kids. The tea was almost always piping hot. "Bye, boys," I smiled at them warmly, throwing a glance at the time, adjusting the strap of my bag for comfort. "Stay outta trouble!"

Steve scrambled for his bike, having noticed my pointed gesture. "Sorry, didn't mean to hold you back. There, I have a spare helmet," he gestured behind him. "I'll give you a ride."

"There's no way in Hell I'm getting on that death trap!" I shouted cheerfully, walking briskly towards my second job, hiding a laugh in the warmth of my scarf as two very offended motorcycle-loving gay fossils sped past me, making truly incredible amounts of noise. Good for them.

Odette was content to let me rummage around the bodega without showing herself more than necessary, taking her appointments and doing- well, witch stuff, I guess, only coming out to poke at the various jars for ingredients.

"Star, I have a proposition for you," right before closing time, Odette's voice filled out the store with its low drawl. "A good friend of mine owns an apartment building, not far from here actually, and one tenant recently moved out. It's a safe space for those who are different," she enunciated the last word, fixing it with a pointed stare. "She's not overly fond of total strangers coming to live there. The rent is reduced and the apartment itself is slightly bigger and more fashionable than yours..."

"Where's the catch?" I found myself interrupting her. I wouldn't lie: the reduced rent and increased size of the apartment did interest me, as well as the probability of a kinder, more involved landlord. My current one was - not the best, but such was life in the NYC.

"There are a few rules to follow, rules that might seem strange at first but they'll make sense in time. And your neighbors might be also a little... Unusual," Odette carefully studied my face for any signs of displeasure.

I sighed.

And then I sighed some more as I was signing my new lease in a few days' time, having spoken with Porter, my new landlord, and his boyfriend who had claws and fangs- after so much time spent around Odette's, I didn't even blink. The couple liked me enough to extend a secure but flexible offer and some furniture to choose from the attic where they kept the spares.

I quite liked the large, vintage couch I placed next to the wide bow windows in the living room. The floors were hardboard and well-kept, the walls a nice, homely shade of green and Porter didn't mind any new holes in them that might arise from hanging up decorations. I scheduled a thrift crawl at the next possible opportunity, happy with the "good employee" bonus Odette had given me after I sealed the deal.

My stuff was boxed up, a sleepless night and a call to a begrudging Jeremy to have a couple of days off to move; I was, thankfully, not late on my schedule and all that I had left was to rent a car to move the boxes of my things and the few pieces of furniture I had decided to keep - my haul in Porter's attic had been incredibly rewarding and my new apartment had all the basics to make it look like a warm, inviting bohemian home in a while.

My phone rang suddenly, startling interruption to the romcom I was watching as I ate my last lunch in my old apartment. "Hello?" I answered the number without looking.

"Hi, doll," Bucky's voice rang out cheerful. "A little witch told me you were moving. I thought you might need a hand?"

I blanked momentarily, the thought of enlisting two very busy super-soldiers to haul ten boxes and two endtables worth of stuff not having crossed my mind at all. "Is this the moment when you stop by my house just to unattach and put your prosthetic arm somewhere and leave?" I asked, hearing distinctive snickering - several more people were with him.

The cheer in his voice blossomed into a full belly laugh. "You're funny," he teased me. "And thanks for the idea. But no, I have a room full of men that have nothing better to do but get on my nerves. Might as well make 'em useful," his accented drawl thickened the more we spoke. Muted cheers rang out in the background.

"Uh, sure," who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I rattled off my address and warned them I didn't have a car, after which Bucky assured me it will be taken care of. The last remaining knick-knacks packed away, I went down to take out the trash, and returned to four people standing in front of my apartment building, all except one unrecognisable in their civilian clothes. "Hello," I waved at them, side-eyeing the tallest, grumpiest man of the bunch.

Stephen Strange was there, looking around curiously, hands in the pockets of his plain grey hoodie. I had already forgotten how normal he looked without his robes, and, frankly speaking, I preferred him like that. His title and the attire that came with it were quite intimidating.

"Hey there," a dark-skinned man who I recognised to be the Falcon, raised his hand. I had not met him yet. "I'm Sam, Sam Wilson. You must be the Star we're helping?" His quick once-over and the tilt to his lips; the ease with which he flirted had me brandishing smirks of my own. I led them all upstairs, Stephen's silence being just so loud. Sam, however, had no such reservations. "So, you're a witch, right?" Wow, subtlety was his middle name.

"Yes, I'll show you my broomstick," I deadpanned, wiggling my eyebrows at him with a grim look.

"Woah woah," Sam raised his hands as the three men behind us snickered loudly. "What happened to 'how are you? let's have dinner sometime'?"

I did my best imitation of an evil cackle as I let them through my front door. The four newcomers looked around my nearly empty apartment with muted interest before zeroing in on the pile of things in the corner: a few pieces of furniture and nearly taped boxes. Should be a walk in the park for four men.

A hand on my arm pulled me from the stupor of observing Sam, Bucky and Steve act like a well-oiled trio, bantering and teasing each other as they discussed how to best move the things.

"Look," Stephen Strange had all the appearance of a chastised puppy. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour that day. I was out of line," the low notes in his voice made the appearance of the apology being somewhat reluctant. Tony probably put him to it after our little burger run.

Irregardless, I wasn't looking to make any enemies. "Me too, I was under stress - not that I'm using it as an excuse," to give where it's due, I nodded at the sorcerer, immediately awestruck by the easy, boyish smile that stretched on his lips.

"You are strong," he added. "If you would like to learn our ways, we would welcome you." There was a spark in his eyes, something belonging to man that respected and collected knowledge. My own respect for him grew immensely just from that one thing.

"I'll think about it," I offered amicably, however, I still leaned heavily towards a negative answer to that particular proposition. I liked my current way of life.

Strange's grin made a momentary second appearance, until Sam's voice rang loudly: "Fire in the hole, Wizard-man," causing the former to groan loudly and look at me.

"Think about your new place for a second," he spoke, briefly touching out fingertips. As soon as that was over, a golden circle with my new living room on the other side of it appeared quietly, Strange's hands immediately going back into his pockets after that. I sighed and pointed the men into it, stepping in a second after. The sorcerer wasn't far behind. "You could learn that, too, you know," he added wryly, having seen my look of mild envy directed at him.

"I think I'll be good with having the 'pissed off the sorcerer Supreme and lived' pass for now," I retorted with an eyeroll, turning around to stare him down.

He had the decency to look somewhat sheepish, at least. "I'm not like my predecessor," his words were chosen carefully. "And, to be honest, I have no clue as to why your... Boss is so hostile towards me- us," Strange looked around the room before unceremoniously beelining for the couch and plopping down on it.

"Not to be a gossip," I started, slightly intrigued. "But Odette and some lady she called ancient had mad beef," I slipped into casual language easily, trying to recall the details of Odette's, quite often jumbled, stories. "Sounded almost like territorial disputes," I shrugged. "And the apprentices Odette took on before me found themselves in all kinds of compromising situations," I chewed on my lip. "Like the Arctic."

Strange rubbed his face with a noisy groan, large hands doing nothing to mask the resignation and slight embarrassment.

I focused on the thin, red scars on his hands - they had to have been something serious, the way slight tremors betrayed the deteriorating state of the nerves in his fingers. I frowned, quickly averting my gaze before he could catch me ogling him. The fact thag Stephen kept his hands in his pockets or covered by gloves at all times didn't go over my head.

He muttered something to himself, something that sounded like he was often forced to clean up his predecessor's mess. "I see," was the only thing he'd offered me, looking slightly pitiful and apologetic.

"Well," I started, noting the last of my stuff was about to be in its rightful place, "as long as you don't toss me into the ocean, I think we can coexist peacefully."

"Tony would kill me if I'd tried," Stephen groused.

"Probably," I agreed. "Considering the fact he hit on me, for you, it would make one hell of a lover's quarrel," my hand pointed towards the kitchen as Steve and Sam carried in the boxes aptly labeled "kitchen", looking around a place to put them down.

"Tony did what now?" Stephen's tone dropped, a wry smirk decorating his lips as he eyed me through his lashes.

"Don't ask me," I raised my palms, feeling my eyes widen. "He's chaos personified and Satan only knows what he's got on his mind."

That squeezed a laugh out of the tall man, followed by a fond, sappy smile as he looked out of my large, panoramic window, probably thinking of Tony himself. There was no doubt, Stephen Strange was utterly and throughly head over heels in love with Tony Stark. Good for them, good for them.

"A-and that's it," Bucky walked in, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel I'd provided them earlier. "I took some liberties and assembled the furniture, Steve is stacking the dishes as we speak," the brunette noisily plopped down next to me, arm carelessly thrown behind me on the back of the couch.

"Oh, um," I stammered, unused to such random gestures of kindness. "Thanks a lot, you saved me a day's worth of time and a backache," I smiled, scooting over to make some room for Sam.

"No problem, not like we had anything better to do than argue which part of the Lord of the Rings is the best," Wilson rolled his eyes, elbowing Bucky none-too-gently.

Bucky elbowed back, thus starting a horsing war between the two, causing me to scoot closer to Stephen as I attempted to avoid any flailing limbs; the sorcerer and I shared an identical, perplexed sigh as to how two grown men could easily bait each other into such juvenile behaviour.

Whatever. It was kind of endearing.

Steve emerged from the kitchen dusty but smiling, having heard the commotion, and quickly herded his guys into a semblance of decent behaviour before all of three of them left, leaving me and Stephen to go back to my old apartment and give the keys to it to the guard. That was done, too, and a portal from an alley behind my old building straight into my living room had me and Strange awkwardly hovering, saying out goodbyes and waving to each other as the golden circle rapidly shrunk in size and disappeared, golden sparks scattering across my living room carpet for a short second before they fizzled out, too.

I used the brief moment of respite to find the small piece of paper containing the rules Porter had insisted I read and take seriously; figuring it might be a good idea to give them a read before beginning to unpack, I popped open a bottle of soda, holding the itemized list written in neat cursive to my face.

The further I read, the further my eyebrows rose:

"1. Keep your door locked at all times.

2. If a person knocks on your door claiming to be the mail man, do not open the door under any circumstances. You are free to ignore the knocking - it only lasts a minute or so. After the person has left, you may open the door and check for any packages.

3. If Samantha from 3B visits you and asks you to babysit, you may do so at your personal discretion. Her twins are a handful and their daily habits are not for the ones with a weak stomach, however, they mean nothin ill and will not harm you in any way.

4. Do not use the elevator between the hours of 1 and 4 AM.

5. There are no apartments under number "7". If someone claiming to be from those apartments knocks on your door and requests entry, come up with a polite excuse to decline and send me a text message. I will take care of it.

6. There is no garden on the premises of this building. If a man approaches you, claiming to be a gardener, don't interact with him and simply walk away. He will leave you alone.

7. You may meet a girl in a polka-dot dress playing in the hallways or in the stairwell. This is Lucy. Always be polite to Lucy - you won't like what will happen if you're rude to her. She does not talk but she knows limited ASL and may request to visit you. Allow her in ONLY if you have fresh meat in your fridge (beef or mutton, preferably bloody). You might want to avoid seeing her eat, however, it might be very beneficial to make friends with Lucy. She knows a lot of things.

8. If, when taking the stairs, you encounter inconsistent numeration of the floors, such as floor 2 followed by floor 5 and etc, simply walk a flight back. It will sort itself out. The building is old and sometimes it gets confused.

Important notice: these rules apply to your guests as well. Please make sure to introduce and educate them on these matters. We will help as much as we can should a situation arise but ultimately, there are fates far worse than an untimely, however swift, death.

- Porter and Lance."

A slow, creeping dread began to gnaw at my nape, curling on like a cold snake deep in chest. As if laughing at me, the warm, welcoming embrace of the green walls and the toothy, wide smiles my landlords had given me encouraged my recently found sense of adventure, all of it mixing into a cacophony of exhilaration and unease, equally steadily driving my running brain insane.

I sighed again, immediately going to the box containing my altar and the rest of the protective items. So much for peace.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

#practical alchemy #bun writes #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark #ironstrange x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x y/n #Stephen Strange x you #tony stark x you

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historic-old-guard-lover · 4 years ago

Note

How many languages and which of them would the cast speak if we’re going to be completely historically accurate ?

This a great question that I can’t quite answer, but I spent six hours researching to give it a shot. I think that there’s a broad range of plausible languages and you’ve got leeway to choose how many. The first part is that different people have different affinities for languages. Some people can speak ten different languages fluently (or near-fluency), while others will struggle juggling three different ones in their brains. The range in the languages can affect this, too: it’s easy to mess up between similar languages. I personally have trouble speaking Spanish because in the middle of the sentence, I’ll drop a French word without even realizing it. The same thing doesn’t happen to me in other languages like German, though. By the same token as I’ve discussed before, similar languages are easier to learn. Going from English to Russian with the Cyrillic alphabet? More difficult than English to French, which makes up about a third of modern English. These are languages that are still in the same family (Proto-Indo-European, PIE), though, so it holds nothing to the difficulty of going from English to a language like Mandarin.

I’m breaking this answer into two parts: 1) how many?; 2) which ones? and I’m going to get carried away because I’m me so it’s below the break to spare you if this comes across your dash and you’re not a nerd...

PART 1: What’s a realistic number for them to speak?

I think that each member of the old guard probably has a certain number of languages which they’re comfortable with, a few more that they can understand/get by in, and a few that they may only know phrases from. The number of each isn’t the same for everyone. The average human being is able to speak ~1.5 languages. The most talented polyglots can speak upwards of 50 languages, maybe one guy even spoke 65 (mostly I want to mention he loved translating the phrase “kiss my ass”). This hyperpolyglot, Kreb aka “Kiss My Ass” Stan, had his brain dissected after his death and it showed a lot of “abnormalities”. That leads neuroscientists and me to believe that being able to study and learn 65 languages is either 1) a major skill that rewired his brain because he was flexing it so much; or 2) very abnormal and facilitated by his brain differences. Since their powers don’t make them stop being limited by the human brain (they can forget), I would say that it is unlikely that one of them is fluent/near fluent/comfortable in more than ~65 languages.

Getting past twelve languages is considered a feat, so I think only Andy, Quynh, Nicky, and Joe could be anywhere near the upper-bounds of languages. Remember, these hyperpolyglots spend their entire lives studying languages and often need refreshers. The members of the Old Guard don’t have the luxury of reading grammar books all day, and they also have to remember a bunch of combat training. You can argue that a lot of fighting is “muscle memory” aka located in the cerebellum and nowhere near language processing areas, but there’s still things like math, navigation, etc. that they need to remember. I doubt they have a list of their safe houses just lying around. The older members can speak more languages by virtue of being around longer and having that time to learn, but if we’re being realistic they should probably speak no more than ~45-55 languages comfortably. This doesn’t mean that they only *know* that many, but the other languages would be more like bad high school Spanish in America than able to wax poetic. Aside: that Joe is able to be poetic in what is AT LEAST his fourth or so language is very impressive and we should talk about that more.

How Many Each Member is Maximally Proficient In/Knowledgeable Of at the end of the film/Opening Fire comics run:

Lykon (comics): proficient in ~15, knowledgeable of ~30*

Lykon (movies): proficient in ~45, knowledgeable of ~80*

Andy: proficient in ~50, knowledgeable of ~100**

Quynh | Noriko: proficient in ~51, knowledgeable of ~90**

Joe: proficient in ~30, knowledgeable of ~80

Nicky: proficient in ~30, knowledgeable of ~80

Booker: proficient in ~10, knowledgeable of ~30

Nile: proficient in ~2 (maybe 3), knowledgeable of ~5

*In the comics, he is younger than Andy and Quynh and I assume he dies young. In the movie, it is strongly implied that he was the oldest. The reason why his numbers are not larger, however, is because at some point there were fewer languages as humanity had not dispersed as much as it eventually did. He’s also long before written language which facilitates learning for most people. RIP Lykon.

**I’m not saying that Quynh is smarter than Andy, just that she comes after written language and it should be slightly easier for her to pick things up. I’m giving Andy access to more languages, however, because PIE alone covers Europe, Central Asia, and South Asia. More on this later.

PART 2: Which languages would each of them speak?

I’ve covered this question a little in a previous post that was broadly about proto-indo-european/Andy-centric (check it out if you want), but I’ll give a broader survey of each character here.

A Quick Aside on Lykon: We don’t know enough about this character, and the fact that the comics and movie diverge so sharply does not help at all. I’m going to headcannon that he was from Eastern Africa, where most archaeologists agree that modern humans first appeared in the Horn of Africa aka modern Ethiopia and Somolia and neighbors, and predates Andy by ~3,000 years. For future purposes below and assuming a birth date for Andy in the range ~5,000BCE - 4,000BCE, this puts his birth at around ~8,000BCE - 7,000BCE. This is wild speculation, however. Maybe the early immortals should be spaced by warfare types (Stone Age, Bronze, Iron, Steel?) or maybe they pop up once a cultural region reaches a certain historic point or maybe they just sorta pop up and then live for six or seven thousands years. I’m working off the last assumption because it’s the simplest. The only thing I’m certain of is that Greg Rucka probably didn’t sit down and think this pattern through. If I’m wrong, oh well. I’m mad at him for all his historical inaccuracies. With dating from ~8,000BCE - 7,000BCE, I’m having trouble finding a name for the cultures that scientists/historians know were living there at the time. It’s probably because the region has been continually occupied since the first humans, which one can safely assume makes abandoned and undisturbed sites hard to fine.

A Quick Aside on Quynh | Noriko: I like the film better, so I’ll be working with Quynh. If there’s enough interest, I can add on Japanese for Noriko. I’m going to date Quynh to be ~1,500 years after Andy (maybe this should be the new date system, before Andy “BA” and after Andy “AA”). This puts her in the time range of ~3,500BCE - 2,500BCE which could place her in either the Đa Bút neolithic culture of modern-day Vietnam or the Phùng Nguyên bronze age culture of modern-day Vietnam. Those names are archaeological in nature, based on the location where sites have been found and dated to those ranges.

Other Origins: Because we have diverging cannons, I’m going to just state the backgrounds that I’ve assigned. Joe is from 1066CE with a background in the Arab-controlled Maghreb (more specifically, modern-day Tunisia and Northern Algeria). Nicky is from 1069CE with a background from the Italian maritime republic and city-state of Genoa. Booker is from 1770 southern France. Nile is from 1994 Chicago in the United States. Andy is from ~5,000BCE - 4,000BCE in the Caucasus (modern-day Georgia and Azerbaijan) or the South Western Eurasian Steppes, probably the Shulaveri-Shomu culture assuming that location.

The first language everyone learned, their “mother tongue” or “native language” is one that they definitely speak. It’s the language that they think in and would be hard-pressed to lose. This even includes now-dead languages, because, again, it’s the one that they learned to think with. Of course, it is possible to lose a language when you have no one to speak it with if you wanted to do something tragic, but I think that these things are too deeply ingrained for it it to happen by accident.

What Each One’s First Language Would Be:

Nile: American English, possibly African-American Vernacular English (AAVE) at home

Booker: Provençal/Occitan, possibly “standard French” (school and other places outside the home)

Nicky: Genoese Ligurian/Zeneize

Joe: Tunisian Derja/Tunisian Arabic/Tunisian, and possibly one of the dialects of the native Zenati language group based on where more precisely you place him

Quynh: Proto-Viet–Muong (which isn’t well documented because it’s so old)

Andy: Proto-Indo-European (PIE), but if you’re curious the Classical Scythian Language for which she is probably named is only off by a factor of 10 (4000 vs 400 BCE) *cue distressed sighing*

Lykon: Proto-Cushitic (also suffering a lack of documentation from being old as heck)

Other than their first languages, what else they learn depends on where they go. People learned languages back then for the same reasons that they do today: to communicate (and to read, after the invention of writing).

Additional Confirmed or Likely Cannon Languages:

Nile: Spanish because of the American school system for sure. French is listed on the IG account, but she probably speaks only Spanish or French to a degree of fluency, definitely one better than the other. Very Basic Pashto, which we see her use some obviously-memorized phrases with in the film.

Booker: The IG promo things asserts that he knows (modern, standard) Italian and Greek. Why not? He also probably knows Spanish depending on where more specifically in southern France he is from. He’s probably also picked up on at least Very Basic Arabic from Joe and Nicky, but actually learning the language would take commitment from him. He also clearly speaks English.

Nicky: Other Italian dialects, and it would be fairly easy for him to have picked up modern Italian. He definitely reads Latin. If he was from a wealthy family, he probably also speaks Greek. If he was from a trading family, he probably speaks the trading pidgin of Sabir. The IG account confirms Arabic (vague, but okay I’ll be generous and say modern standard Arabic) and Romanche (they meant to write Romansh). I think Romansh is poorly chosen to characterize him in Northern Italy, but I’m feeling generous. He also clearly speaks English.

Joe: He definitely speaks standard Arabic to have been able to communicate with other Arabic-speakers in Jerusalem. Genoese Ligurian/Zeneize because of the love of his life, which also means he probably picked up modern Italian at some point. The IG account confirms Farsi (they call it “Persian” *cue screaming*), which works if he was a merchant who traveled far to eastward on the Silk Road...and if you go with the comic cannon makes more sense. I’m going to say that he speaks the Mediterranean trading pidgin Sabir because of his location in Tunisia. If he was from a wealthy merchant family and could afford schooling, he probably learned Greek and maybe also Latin. There’s a good chance that he knows conversational-levels of other native Zenati languages thanks to colonialism discouraging their usage. He also clearly speaks English.

Quynh: We don’t actually know if she speaks English, but it’s safe to assume she does speak at least some of it. She’s probably learned Vietnamese and Mường because of her mastery of their proto-language. Because I see her returning to modern-day Vietnam to fight the Chinese colonization, I think that she might know Cantonese or Mandarin. Based on her travels with Andy, I’d like to propose Greek, Latin, and Mongolian. I’m sure that Andy and her share a language, but who knows which one they were each speaking when they met!

Andy: The IG account says “all,” but I’ve discussed this elsewhere (*major eye rolling*). She almost certainly picked up Scythian and Greek based on her chosen name. Latin isn’t as likely as you’d think, but is possible. I’d like to think that she’s also partial to learning Russian (or some earlier form of the language), Mongolian, and Armenian. Based on her travels with Quynh, I imagine that she speaks Cantonese or Mandarin and Vietnamese or Mu’o’ng. There is some mystery language shared with Quynh, too. She also clearly speaks English.

Lykon: I really don’t know enough about him to hazard any guesses. He should share at least one language in common with Andy and Quynh. If his date of death is ~2,000- 1,000 BCE like I’m supposing, there’s a good chance that he only speaks one or two currently-named languages. Sorry, OP.

#asks #lovely anon #linguistics #neuroscience #the old guard #andromache the scythian #andy #quynh #noriko #lykon #yusuf al kaysani #joe #nicolo di genova #nicky #sebastien le livre #booker #nile freeman #nile

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earths-roots-grow-up · 4 years ago

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Headcanons on Russia’s and Prussia’s relationship with France.

Russia:

I think that in the XVIII century a large chunk of Europe had a crush on France. French culture was widespread among European courts and the language was being used to communicate in a similar manner English is used today. Frenchness was just very IN at that time.

Those countries included Russia. At that time Peter the Great was westernizing his country, and injecting French-ness into Russian lives was a part of this process - Versailles and the French court impressed Peter immensely when he went to visit France and when he came back home, he began emulating many things he observed in the western country. Language, customs, widespread mirrors everywhere, architecture, gardens. You name it.

High-born Russians would talk to each other in French and give themselves French names. Lets note that French wasn’t the only foreign language that was widespread in Russia, so were others, like German and Latin [mostly used by the academia.

“(...) of all the languages which began to have currency in eighteenth-century Russia, it was French that acquired the greatest social, cultural, and political significance,even if it was not always so widely spoken as German“.

The two next generations of Russians grew up within this Francophile culture and viewed it as something natural, from their perspective it was no longer an exotic fashion, just the way thing always were. Therefore, this was something more than just a fleeting fascination that lasted as long as Peter ruled - and had lingering influence on Russian culture.

“The most important stimulus for the development of French-speaking in Russia, though, was the use of French as a court language from around the middle of the reign of Peter’s daughter Elizabeth (1741–61), who had learnt it in childhood from a French lady at her father’s court.“

And so it went on from there: “At the beginning of the nineteenth century, the Russian nobility still preferred French to Russian for everyday use, and were familiar with French authors such as Jean de la Fontaine, George Sand (etc.). The influence of France was equally strong in the area of social and political ideas. Catherine II's interest in the writings of the (french) philosophers of the Enlightenment (...) contributed to the spread of their ideas in Russia during the eighteenth century.” and “ During the nineteenth century, travel in France was considered a form of cultural and intellectual apprenticeship. “.

(source) So the interest in French ideas and culture was strong in the second half of the XVIII century and in the XIX century.

So in other words, Russia had a crush on France - it was a total puppy love mostly based on superficial things, like aesthetic, nice smells and pretty, elegant European opulence but most of all: France was the ideal of what Russia was trying to become, the epicenter of European-ness, the “civilization” and Ivan was in the middle of this lowkey cultural revolution in which he was trying to re-invent himself as a modern, “European” country. So I think this crush was very much one of those "I wanna BE YOU" types of crushes, he was head over heels for what France represented - that’s why this hit so hard.

There was some more personal stuff there too, like France's eloquence, his literature and philosophy. Enter a lot of perfumed love letters! Even when the crush slowly withered away Russia still felt - and feels - strong admiration for France and honestly enjoys his culture a lot.

France himself enjoyed the crush but wasn't really that interested in reciprocating - as mentioned above, large chunk of Europe was also crushing on him due to his culture just being in fashion, so it's not like Russia himself was standing out. But they did become friends and still have good personal relations with each other. They have a lot of passions in common, such as ballet, art, music, opera, Romanticism etc, so they still enjoy talking about this stuff together. It’s not a Deep friendship where they trust each other, don’t be fooled, they don’t trust one another at all! But they do like hanging out.

I also HC that the way both French and German were important in XVIII century Russia (as cited above: French with greater cultural significance and German more widespread) is representative of him catching feelings for both France and Prussia at this time, tho one of those wasn't just a crush.

Prussia:

My non-canon-approved hot take here is that I don't think him and France were ever friends. The exact opposite of that even.

It's true that Frederick the Great also had this hard-on for the French, and in effect Prussia speaks and writes excellent French. But after Frederick William II took over the throne, he took back all those Francophile preferences and began promoting German literature and language instead - something the educated classes of Prussia were thankful for. So because Russia shared his ruler's fascination with France his interest outlasted Peter the Great and became a more prevalent part of Russian culture for a long time, while Prussia never shared Fredrick’s fascination and therefore it got overturned as soon as the new king sat on the throne.

And that makes sense, bc in general Germans and French weren't very friendly with each other during their history. German- French enmity, also called the hereditary enmity, is an idea introduced in the XIX century, and it states that those two forces are natural enemies due to their inherently different goals and incompatible interests. Due tho this they keep bumping against each other throughout the ages. You can see echos of this sentiment it in the Napoleonic Wars, Franco-Prussian War, WW1, the Treaty of Versailles, WW2 etc. France was also the country that stood in the strongest opposition to the German Empire being created, so a big issue for Prussia.

It’s important to mention that this German-French enmity was often used as a propaganda tool for wars and simplified the complex relations between those two groups. Of course it did, even Austrian/Prussian relations weren’t ALWAYS bad, even tho they were called ‘the biggest enemies’ by historians.

It is believed that the enmity ended after WW2 and no longer is a thing. To me that is a pretty great example of Germany taking over the reign and replacing Prussia. Prussian/France relations were bad, but German/France relations are pretty darn good. And it makes sense, because Prussia had different goals than Germany has, and they are very different individuals. I see France and Germany as friends due to their shared work in UE, tho I’m not sure if they would be something more than just work friends.

Anyway, this is Hetalia and not a historical-political deep dive - to me what counts in Hedcanon context is the general feel throughout history: were they generally allies or enemies? Were their interests clashing with one another or were they compatible, most of the time at least? The whole idea behind this “inherited” enmity is that French and German interests were incompatible, so it had to end with a conflict. And they did, many times over. I feel like the importance of the Napoleonic wars especially is often undervalued here - it was a HUGE conflict that would have a lasting impact on their relations, way bigger than the Wars for Austrian Succession, which are often cited as proof of their friendship. But they were an outlier in general Prussian/French relations.

That’s why I think Prussia and France are not, nor ever were friends, they view each other as enemies and dislike each other. Tho during the reign of Old Fritz their relationship was warmer and more amicable than during other periods, considering they actually had similar goals and fought together for a change - mostly because that was convenient for then, not due to some preexisting friendship. But I do like the idea that during this time they had some kind of difficult comradery going for a brief while and there was this fleeting “maybe in another reality we could be friends” vibe.

Due to the bad history, Prussia's dislikes of France can be seen in many small things that irritate him, like he just detests Francis' need to show opulence, his over-the-top rococo aesthetic and cuture-esque fashion sense, hight emotionality drives him bonkers and even the pastel flowery color palettes he often wears irk him. And don’t even get his started on the Revolutions! He’ll talk your ear off.

Tl’Dr: So Prussia and France don't like each other and are generally bitchy and passive-aggressive with one another. Russia and France are friendly and good acquaintances, while not exactly close. Russia just likes him - he still admires a lot of things about French culture, enjoys the language, cuisine, architecture, fashion etc, and used to have a crush on him.

Rusprus take:

Prussia in a confident, self-assured person, but when it comes to France, he can be surprisingly self-conscious. He still remembers that crush Russia used to have on him and WHY he had it - because of many characteristics that France possesses, but Prussia doesn't. Like being romantic and sentimental, sensitive, emotionaly open, appreciative of beauty, artsy etc. Sometimes Russia finds that cute and endearing, bc it makes him feel wanted, but sometimes it's just... ridiculous.

APH Prussia: What do you wanna watch tonight, Vanka?

APH Russia: Hm... maybe that movie, Marie Antoinette?

APH Prussia: Ugh OF COURSE you wanna ogle HIM!

APH Russia: W... what.

APH Prussia: France! You wanna ogle that cheese-smelling frog-eater!

APH Russia: What... no! Gilya, Gilyushka, Gilynechka! That's absurd, I just want to watch a pretty period drama!

APH Prussia: Don’t you “Gilynechka“ me! And as if that's not enough...

APH Prussia: She was AUSTRIAN

APH Russia: Omg. Kill me now. When you have almost 1000 years of history together then even picking a Netflix show can be a minefield!

Anyway, they end up watching the movie but Prussia roasts everything in frame :D

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cobertaddict · 3 years ago

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Tagged by the lovely @bella-caecilia & the amazing @levinson-mannion thank ya loves 💕

Nickname(s): I don’t really have one, I'm not into nicknames really. Occasionally my friends call me Kar Kar (relating to my first name), but only jokingly or to annoy me lol

Zodiac: Pisces! :)

Height: 5′ 2.5 / 158.75 cm *yes, that 0.5 matters to me because I’m short lol

Last movie I watched: The Incredibles, I’m currently on a Disney movie binge to relive my childhood... Edna Mode is such a ✨icon✨

Last thing I googled: turpitude definition *it means wickedness for those who are curious lol

Favorite musician(s): I haven’t really got into a single artist per se, I’m more into bands I suppose. I do enjoy Alex Turner’s lyrical writing tho, and of course I love Arctic Monkeys. Another band I love is Alt-J, which just released a new song today, so I guess I’ll be listening to that all day :)

Song stuck in my head: U&Me by Alt-J 😂, especially the lyrics at the end of the song

Other blogs: I do have two other blogs out there, but unfortunately I do not remember the names of them. I created them when I was younger (one in middle school & the other when I was a freshman in high school), they’re were just blogs of my general interests

Blogs following: 37

Amount of Sleep: On average, about 7 hours

Lucky number: 5

What I’m wearing: a navy polo shirt with khaki shorts

Dream job: History professor... but I might change it to something that includes more writing, I got into creative writing (nonfiction) recently & have a professor mentoring me a bit in that department. I guess we’ll have to wait and see :)

Dream trip: hmm... perhaps London. I think it be fun to visit and see its historical sites/ monuments & such, plus I wouldn’t mind the cold weather :)

Languages: English, very little Spanish & German. I am a bit better at speaking German tho, but still nowhere near proficient or fluent

Favorite food: a good ol’ medium rare steak :)

Do I play an instrument: nope. I’m talentless 🙃

Favorite song: currently it’s Piledriver Waltz by Alex Turner

Random Fact: I know a lot about JFK 🙈. I’m talking about general information, family history, useless facts, random fun facts, his achievements, his flaws (there’s a lot, trust me I’m aware he’s no saint lol)... almost everything there is to know about the guy 😂. Why JFK you may ask? Well, it’s a long and weird story that only a small handful of people in my private life know, and I intend on keeping it that way lol. I’ve been reading/ researching about him since I was about 12 years old and I am now 20. There’s very seldom things I’m confident about myself, but one thing I am confident in is my knowledge about JFK 😂. I bet if I went to the JFK Presidential Library, I could get a job on the spot as a tour guide because how much I know lol. I don’t exactly look up to him, but I can definitely see how many consider him an icon. In a way, I guess you can say I fell for that Kennedy charm 😂

Tagging: @downton-bridgerton, @dreamsalones, @ohtobealady *no pressure if you don’t want to :)

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thetriggeredhappy · 4 years ago

Note

Ever played with the idea of how Scout would have been if he had been raised by Spy, instead of his mom? Still in the Scout role, but just... french? haha

i figure the way that would happen is that spy has essentially said his goodbyes to the rest of the seven boys in more lowkey ways over the course of a week or so, and already had his tearful goodbye to scout’s mother, and is saying his last one to little baby Jeremy (probably about a year and a half old at that point) in the middle of the night before he goes off to make sure the faked death plot goes well then to high-tail it out of Boston. but then when he goes to put baby Jeremy back in his crib he just won’t let go, and keeps making little almost-crying noises, and when he tries to peel his little hand off the lapel of his suit jacket he says “papa!” in the tiniest saddest little voice in the world and spy knows he’s completely fucked.

he figures out how to put a baby seat in his shiny fancy car and he’s halfway through Pennsylvania before scout’s mother wakes up and finds out that he took the baby with him, and she adjusts her story accordingly, and both Spy and little Jeremy are declared legally dead by the time they hit Missouri.

spy has even more pressure to wrap up the espionage thing with a baby with him, and so takes fewer jobs than he otherwise would, and longer breaks in-between. scout grows up largely homeschooled, and by the age of five, scout is fluent in both English and French and knows a good chunk of Spanish, Russian, and Mandarin. he’s homeschooled through his elementary school years and ends up with a fairly solid grasp of math and history and etc, as well as a number of other skills like lying through his teeth and remembering the fake name of the week. he’s also picked up on the fact that his lifestyle isn’t exactly standard, and that other kids do things besides kick around motel rooms reading comics and making crayon drawings and listening to the radio.

i think around age eight he becomes obsessed with the idea of being on a baseball team with other kids, and spy starts taking time out of his day to at least play catch with him, and encourages that he maybe join a baseball team a few years down the road when he’s a little older. maybe even the major league! in the meantime, conjugate some verbs into German.

at age eleven his first aid lessons begin unexpectedly when he needs to help spy patch up a bullet wound in his back, and at age twelve his combat lessons begin when he picks up one of those guns his dad always told him to stay away from and points it at one of the goons who broke into their motel room and hit his papa over the head with a two-by-four. by the time he’s fourteen, spy has stopped lecturing him for carrying a knife and encourages him going on runs to keep busy, and he gets his own pistol and is taught how to shoot it for his fifteenth birthday. three months later, he puts two bullets through a man’s shoulder in a car chase and doesn’t stick around to see if he bleeds out.

at age sixteen he gets the first of many fake licenses, and the courage to steal his dad’s cigarette case, and he finds a note congratulating him for getting away with it and a phone number. he calls it, and the woman who picks up nearly bursts into tears as he tentatively tells her that his name is jeremy.

he’s eighteen and change when one day his dad sits him down and carefully informs him that he got a job offer. full-time, consistent pay, guaranteed safety, to do exactly the thing he was good at. and, he said, tone careful, there was a spot for scout too. and he asks scout if he would feel alright taking a job like that, and listens carefully to his answer, to his thought process, to the terms and conditions he would want on something like that, and makes a phone call, and they get in the car and drive to new mexico.

and this Scout is a little quieter, a little more quick-witted. sharper, less friendly, still a prettyboy and keeping the team tricked for almost a full year into thinking he’s some kind of dunce until the day he lets it slip on a mission that he can speak Russian fluently and do long division in his head and keep a borderline photographic memory of a map he’s only barely glanced at. and he’s still hopeless about miss pauling (a life on the run meaning he didn’t have particularly good practice with hitting on girls), and he’s still a bit jumpy, but everything about him is a little sharper, a little harsher. and it’s only a year or two into his contract that he starts to relax, starts to joke around and act his age, starts to goof off and laugh with his chest and ramble about Tom Jones. and spy still has to live with guilt, because it’s his fault that scout felt that he had to be so mature all the time, but this time he’s in a position to maybe, perhaps, start to fix it.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #dad!spy #shut up me #everybody talks #my girlfriend once said ‘spy did the right thing leaving scouts family. do YOU wanna hear what a french-boston accent sounds like????’#and she has a point #father-son bonding AU #tf2 AU

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blockedmite · 4 years ago

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A Warm Surprise | Abby Anderson x Reader

You go on a camping trip that ends with meeting Abby

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

AN: So....

When I say soon, I mean soon. lol. I guess I just didn't have too much to add after I left off. But to start off this AN right I want to thank some very important people to me.

First I want remind everyone that this fic is dedicated to @kittycat-beans, who is an amazing writer and an even more amazing person. Their top tier Abby fics have been a huge inspiration to write again. This fic is also in honor of @shadowcrow, who still continues to support my every last move. They are a friend that everyone deserves.(and also helped proofread)

Next, I would like to thank my proofreaders, who also happen to be my little mini family over the last week or so. I WILL destroy anyone and anything that does as much as touch a hair on their head because I love all of them so much. <3<3<3. The proofreaders are @abbysfrenchbraid, who is the most beautiful woman other then Abby that I have ever seen. Just a straight up German goddess. Next, @abbysfirstlove, who is the most adorable little sweet cake anyone can imagine. I will protect that smol bean with my life. Next, @jessicamparker, who I can never take seriously. lol. She is an absolutely adorable and chill bean that everyone deserves to vibe and vape with.

So, if that’s everyone, I’ll give you the stats on this fic now. This is a Modern AU with Abby as a lumberjack and a Fem!Reader. This is chapter 2 of 10. It’s is 1.4K words.

Warnings:

cursing

some angst

Enjoy!

A Warm Surprise

Chapter 2: Rescued

“I really need to go get some wood.” Abby thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was white, it was cold, and it was miserable.

You walked for what seemed like hours. The horrible, god-forbidden cold just would not let up. Your legs had long since adjusted to your movement but now they were fighting the cold with the rest of your body. Your arms clung to your sides and your breathing was stuttered. You couldn’t feel your fingers or toes. You swore that hypothermia was going to set in soon if you didn’t make it to your car.

Speaking of your car, where the hell was that thing, anyway? You have been walking in its general direction for what seemed like miles. It couldn’t be that far, it was just a short hike.

“Where is it?” You thought. “Please...I can't be...I can't be….No! I am not lost. I know where I am.”

You pushed the thought of you being lost out of your head. If there was anything that shouldn't be happening now, it's you being lost. Lost out in the middle of a white, freezing blizzard. But the more you kept trying to push the thought away, the more you kept thinking about it and the more it kept making sense.

You were absolutely terrified. You had already ran out of your tent in a panic to get out of the cold. It was a very likely chance that you ran the wrong way. You had no way of checking whether or not you were going the right way either. You still couldn't see anything, so you could have been walking in a circle this entire time with no landmarks to orient yourself.

With your thoughts now on landmarks, you realized that you never passed that little stream you crossed when first finding your spot. Or went back past that huge salt rock. Or passed that huge, old tree that was split in half.

You were in the middle of nowhere.

You damn near screamed. There was no way you could be lost. You had to know where you were. You had to be somewhere after all, right?

You looked around in a panic. You looked for…...something. Anything. Anything that could give you a sign of where you were. You looked through the thick falling snow. You saw bare trees and bushes. You looked at the sky and saw dark grey clouds. You looked behind you and saw nothing but your own tracks being quickly covered up by the snow. You looked back in front of you to find nothing, just like before.

You kept looking forward. Moving step by step, further into the frozen hell that awaited you. You kept moving until you saw it. You saw something moving in the snow, it was flapping around wildly in the wind.

It was bright orange and low to the ground. A tent! You had stumbled into someone else's camping site! You finally found a place to stay. Oh thank god. These people could definitely help you or let you stay. They must have some good camping equipment to stay out in this fucking weather. Now all you had to do was………

“No.” You thought.

“Oh please God. No! NOOOOO!”

You stumbled into your own camping site again. You had walked in a complete circle.

You were lost.

You stared at the bright orange tent flapping in the wind, making you sick. You barely saw your sleeping bag buried under the snow in front of the tent where you had left it. You could see that the snow had made its home inside of the tent’s open front. You were frozen in place and it wasn’t because of the cold.

If you were being completely honest, you wanted to die. You just wanted to lay down and let the cold overtake you. Let the white, pure snow cover up your cold, rotten body and be discovered later. You wondered how long it would take. Would the search party come after your 10-day trip was over? Maybe a week after? Months? Years? Who would even notice that you were gone? Who would even care if they noticed? There was no one and nothing for you back in Jackson. Sure as hell nothing here for you in Seattle. What was even the point anymore?

Why were you even alive anymore?

“FUCK YOU SEATTLE!!” You thought, “If I want to die somewhere, it’s sure as hell won’t be in Seattle in the middle of the fucking woods.”

You didn’t know where this new burst of energy came from but you didn’t complain. Everything inside of you was starting to burn. Burn with rage. Burn with frustration. Burn with the passion to get the fuck out of this blizzard.

You still couldn't see anything but you were going to find your way. If that meant bumping into and rubbing every tree you could find with your numb fingers until they bleed, then so be it. You had one tree in mind anyway. That huge, old oak tree split in half. It was different from all the rest anyway. If you could find that one tree you could find your way out of these woods.

So you reoriented yourself and set out one last time. You were as close to jogging in the snow as it would allow you. Your feet felt like heavy stones and your legs were starting to ache a little. Your arms weren’t attached to your body anymore. They were swinging by your sides, helping you thrust yourself forward through the snow. Occasionally using them as little binoculars to help see through the snow a little bit.

You jogged and jogged and jogged through the snow. You keep pushing forward. All you wanted to find was some shelter. God knew that you would have gladly fallen into a hole and stayed there, if it meant getting out of this blizzard alive. Anything would do. In fact, right now you were looking for a tree. All you needed to do was find one tree. One tree in a forest full of them. That one sign of hope. That one sign of life.

~~~

You were running around for what seemed like hours again.

“Not again.” You thought, “I can’t be lost again. I’m not gonna die here. Where the fuck is that tree?”

At this point, you were legit rubbing and bumping into trees. Seriously, looking up at them trying to see if you remembered it. It was clear to you that the cold was making you crazy, and now you were slowly losing your mind. You were just a crazy woman running around in a blizzard rubbing on trees. At the very least dying crazy is better than dying sane.

But dying wasn’t an option right now. You had to find that damn tree. You kept pushing forward, albeit much slower than before. You had to be going in the right direction this time. As dreadful as coming back to your campsite was, it was helpful in pointing you in the right direction. You had to be nearing the tree eventually.

You walked and looked. You walked a little slower and looked a little harder. You were starting to lose energy quickly but your determination was still high. You were going to keep looking for that tree with the last fiber of your being.

You were still continuing your tree rubbing when…..

“Woah!”

What the hell? Did that tree just woah at you? That's it! You were finally losing it. You were gonna go crazy and die in the middle of the woods with woahing trees.

“What the hell? Who are you??” said the once woahing tree.

“I...I...need help-p” You said stuttering due to the cold, “Help me-e, Mr. T-Tree”

“Holy shit! How long have you been out here?”

Before you could answer, you felt the “tree” move. A hand grabbed at your back while another swapped up your feet. Next thing you knew someone, that you thought was a tree, was bridal carrying you to an unknown location.

“I have a log cabin I can take you to.” said the stranger.

Ok, scratch that. An unknown log cabin. You cursed yourself for not trying that earlier but you were kind of too busy trying not to die. Plus you happened to be walking around in circles, so what were the chances anyway. But despite everything, you were so happy that you were being carried to safety.

You dangled lifelessly in the arms of your own personal survivor. Your body was starting to ache all over but you didn’t care. Whoever this was, you were completely ready to die in their arms.

For them to completely take you away.

“By the way, my name’s Abby.”

#abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #abigail anderson x reader #abby anderson #abigail anderson #abby tlou2 #abby tlou #tlou fanfic #abby anderson fanfic

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