#excuse me for my lack of professionalism in writing a good fanfic

[azuralnguyendd]

Just a warning y'all: I am not at all any good at writing angst and trauma, I based most of the things I wrote off of the actual interaction and trauma post the creator posted. I apologize in advance if it's too short and/or too boring to read

[thesaltyoceanwaves]

Adrien’s Room and Memorabilia: A Sequel Post

Well, I hinted at a similar arc for Adrien in this post, so let’s brainstorm.

CW: mentions of harassment

The major difference between Adrien and Marinette in this instance is that Mari’s room is about her working through her social anxieties and developing meaningful relationships. Adrien’s focus is on his lonely nature, as well as discovering and cultivating hobbies that he really enjoys, and aren’t just forced upon him by his father.

His room starts off with very few photos of his loved ones, namely his parents, Chloe and Felix. These photos are professional in nature, clean, crisp and very much lacking in color. Even Chloe and Felix are behaving for the sake of the photos. Notably, their photos show them when they are much younger, to indicate that Adrien hasn’t spent time with them lately.

There’s a large emphasis placed on the amount of stuff that Adrien has in his room. The video games, the TV, the climbing wall, etc. Everything is completely clean and dust free, because he spends a lot of time in his room, but he doesn’t have anything he’s particularly drawn toward, so whenever he’s done with something, he puts it away and grabs something else. His room is also likely clean due to his strict father demanding he keep up appearances.

The only exception to this are video games, but they are very specific ones: simulators. Particularly, ones that focus on dating and romance. Life simulators, farming simulators, RPGs that offer a romance subplot, etc. Even if the sim only offers the option to make friends, Adrien is fine with that. Stuff like Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons (the ones made by Marvelous), The Sims, Undertale and so forth are right up his valley. And again, lots of dating sims.

Following his mother’s “passing,” and at the start of the show, Adrien keeps a corner of his room dedicated to her. As more time goes by and Adrien gets closer to his new friends, this will shrink down to a photo of the two of them, and most of her memorabilia will be stored away. This will show that he’s open to the possibility of his father dating someone else, as was shown in “Felix”. 

He will often turn to photos of his mother when he wants deeper, more worrying thoughts that he wants to voice and get off his chest, or if he needs advice about something and he doesn’t know who to turn to. S1 would focus more on friendship advice, because in this version, he would need to put in more time and care to make friends (Nino and him would still stay buds, Mari is still crushing on him but is hesitant to approach, and Alya is kind but cautious, with the rest of the class being wary because of his friendship with Chloe). Later on, he’s more likely to ask about plot-relevant stuff, his feelings for Ladybug and Kagami (and romance in general), his growing resentment towards his father, his meet-ups with his friends, and his discomfort with Chloe and Lila’s touchiness. Coupled with Felix’s harassment in “Felix,” this causes Adrien to realize his boundaries are being violated, and to also wonder if he has adopted similar behaviors. He goes to speak with either Sabine, Tomoe or Nino’s mom about the matter (maybe all three to get a variety of perspectives), and then with Ladybug. I would set this conversation sometime after “Frozer,” with him mentioning how he acted there, and apologizing for leaving her in the middle of battle (if the episode isn’t rewritten to include that there).

Overtime, he would start to depend less on talking to Emilie’s photo, and instead talk to whoever he asked for advice. Instead, he would talk to her prior to a larger battle or facing a bigger threat and had something he wanted to get off his chest.  

At the beginning of their superhero career, Adrien is into collecting Ladybug merch - he’s likely to even have one of those “Do it for her” boards set up. He has some Chat Noir stuff as well, but it’s not as prominent. When other heroes arrive on the scene, he’ll have stuff of them too. He would even go so far as to recreate the heroes in his games (mostly in what Sims knock-off this universe would have), and roleplay scenarios with Ladybug. He doesn’t fully get rid of his merch over time, but he does likely downsize as he spends more time getting to know Ladybug and the team.

There’s also the obligatory Ladrien scene that I hinted at in Marinette’s post. To recap, Chat Noir, during an emotional moment with Marinette, mentions that he has Ladybug memorabilia in his room, and that he ought to downsize. Sometime later, Ladybug comes to check up on Adrien for plot-related reasons, and discovers that he “too” collects Ladybug merch. Adrien is notably embarrassed by this, but Ladybug replies by saying that she’s a fan of his as well. This will allow two sides of the ship to feel closer to each other and open up about certain things.

Similar to Marinette, Adrien will start picking up little things as mementos from previous episodes to decorate his room with (a class photo from “Reflekta,” a copy of the movie from “Horrificator,” his autographed Jagged Stone CD from “Guitar Villain,” etc).  I also imagine him holding onto clothing items such as Nino’s hat or Kagami’s jacket, that get left behind after hanging out. Over time, he is eventually gifted a mannequin to display these items.

I remember seeing a post that called into question whether Adrien’s activities were something he genuinely enjoyed or if they were just foisted upon him by his father. I like the idea of a laid out arc that explores what Adrien might like to do in the future, by having him go through various hobbies (sort of like Daphne in “Be Cool, Scooby Doo”). 

One hobby I’d give him from the start is tricking. (For those not familiar, tricking combines moves from martial arts and gymnastics, usually flips and kicks, and can be used to create super cool combos, yes I am biased about this). We often see him showing off stunts in battle and would fit Chat’s tendencies to be flashy. I could also see this becoming a hobby he shares with Nino and Kagami later on, maybe with the three of them sneaking out to meet other trickers at gatherings.

(For those who need visual reference.)

However, I also want to give Adrien a more traditionally feminine hobby. There’s a couple of ideas I had for this, including, again ones that he cycles through as he explores himself a bit more. After meeting Luka and noticing that he paints his nails, Adrien might tiptoe in nail art. I could also see Adrien getting really into writing romance, starting off as a fanfic writer and eventually writing his own novel or comic. Alternatively, he becomes a poet. Maybe he spends an episode learning to sew with Marinette so he can make his own cosplays. Or he starts a cottagecore aesthetic blog, and additionally starts taking care of some plants to give his room some needed greenery.

I think for the sake of irony, it would be interesting to see Adrien eventually take up baking as a hobby. I know there’s a couple of AUs involving this concept already (I forget who it was, though I’m tempted to say @lenoreofraven​ ​ but correct me if I’m wrong), but I like this idea because it would give him something extra he and Marinette could bond over in the future, especially since he doesn’t want to do modelling long-term. It would also give him a good excuse to visit the Dupain-Cheng bakery, and grow closer to Sabine and Tom. Perhaps they take him up as an apprentice, or give him a delivery boy job alongside Luka (giving that relationship a chance to grow as well, as well as a Delivery Boy shenanigans episode).

When he’s either in between hobbies, in a tumultuous state, or growing distant from his father, his room will appear far messier. In the latter case, it may be an attempt to rebel against Gabriel, saying “it’s my room, I can do what I want!” If he’s not comfortable immediately speaking out against his father, he may rebel in more passive aggressive ways. I could also see him roleplaying scenarios in which he tells his father off or planning escape routes for hero patrol or tricking gatherings. I think he would also have padded mats stored somewhere in he case he can’t leave, and wants to practice, or have his own tricking gathering in the house.

As he collects more mementos, they start filling up the empty spaces in his room, so when his father prevents him from leaving the house, he doesn’t feel as lonely. He starts finding ways where, from the comfort of his room, he can hang out with friends (like in “Anansi” where he uses the facecam to see what everyone is up to). More friendly, casual photos give the room some life. These mementos may also cause him to start downsizing on the Ladybug and Friends merch.

He will only attempt to remove them altogether if his identity is revealed to Marinette, and she doesn’t seem to process it well (at least at first). Anything pertaining to her, as Ladybug or Marinette, he may attempt to remove, until he realizes just how present she is in his life. He would then consult his mother’s photo about what to do. 

And similarly to Marinette at the end, when they start dating, he would start to incorporate couple’s photos. I think both of them would have those photo booth strips, but I could also see Adrien commissioning posters of his OTP, LadyNoir, and bringing back some of his merch (in a teasing, well-meaning way). 

[tenebriscollective]

A Response

First, before we do this, we’re going to take the liberty of posting your entire response to our review that we left. However, I do hope you are aware that we could absolutely tell that you didn’t bother reading through the whole thing. As a lot of what you say in this response is already denied in the review you were responding to. For the sake of those who don’t like long posts, however, we will be putting everything beyond this point under a read more.

The link to the site, so that you can read our original review: https://disboard.org/server/213915266554396672

This is The Megane System’s response, in full. Which we will be taking parts of to go through for our response piece by piece. One can’t say we cut context when we provide the full response and the link back to the server page to show the original review, hm?

The response: 

Posting words here instead of talking to me directly like an adult is why I'm not the dangerous one. Really don't care or want anything to do with any of you who value publicly airing dirty laundry as opposed to just talking to me so you can feed your ego feeling like a 'good person'. Sprinkling it with words that sound like understanding mean nothing when you shut down normal communication methods. This kind of cancel culture is emotionally manipulative, predatory and has endangered lives. Life isn't clean and squeaky, neither are you and neither am I. If you can't get your head out your ass long enough to realise this then enjoy your delusions of purity but I assure you everyone you have ever met and ever will meet has had dark thoughts of violence, disturbing imagery and vile emotions. It's part of life, denying that is denying life. I've never 'defended someone sexualising a little alter in the server' and I'm still baffled where the hell that came from?? Everything else was scraped out of personal DMs and my personal spaces I used to manage my BPD away from public spaces and only where people I thought I could trust could see (obviously I couldn't lol) but that I have zero recollection of I think you guys are just having fun giving me horns and trying to deny me any consideration of changing or improving. Because that's what this thinking does. It labels people permanently as 'BAD PEOPLE', and they can't ever grow beyond that. It makes their lives feel worthless, and they themselves beyond saving, and so they end up repeating the same mistakes, because no one expects anything more from them. I know this because I've always tried to break this in how I run my server. With the belief that anyone can become something better, that anyone who believes anything, holds any views can be helped to grow and function better among others. That's why I allow people with 'bad views' around me. That's why I talk to them, that's why I actually spend time treating people as people and not punching bags like you do. You do not help the problems in the world, you merely cement them, so I will never run my server how you want me to, because it is wrong and I won't cave to a bunch of bullies.

We are going to start off to state first addressing the very start of this. But put simply, Megane System (we will be referring to you collectively, since we have a system member who is also called Reiji, and don’t want people to get mixed up), we were never under any obligation to contact you directly. Framing it as if we’re the dangerous one because we didn’t do that is quite manipulative, and honestly quite ironic. Given you never gave us even a seconds moment to communicate before evicting us out of the server when we were still a staff member. We were trying to communicate, but were simply being ignored. The fact that you try now to weaponize this lack of communication as a method to somehow disprove and dismiss our review is honestly hilarious.

Really don't care or want anything to do with any of you who value publicly airing dirty laundry as opposed to just talking to me so you can feed your ego feeling like a 'good person'.

Airing dirty laundry implies that the accusations we outlined in that review weren’t the degree of seriousness that they were. This is honestly also the worst attempt at downplaying what we said we’ve ever seen, but it does show that you clearly didn’t read our review in its entirety, despite there being parts at the end specifically addressed to you and Alec.

Sprinkling it with words that sound like understanding mean nothing when you shut down normal communication methods. This kind of cancel culture is emotionally manipulative, predatory and has endangered lives.

Again, we were under no obligation to use normal communication methods, especially when normal communication methods in the staff room were completely shut down while you maligned everyone in the staff because we didn’t like that you had returned so suddenly and without warning, and knew that the sudden return would not mean good things for those you hurt, who were, at the time, on the server. And honestly, I think it’s emotionally manipulative that you continuously deflected questions while we were in the server about your drama and tried to frame it as something incredibly small, inconsequential, and petty. 

Life isn't clean and squeaky, neither are you and neither am I.

We and anyone who has ever called you out never claimed to be. You made this assumption because we called out your behavior which crossed lines that should never have been crossed in the first place.

If you can't get your head out your ass long enough to realise this then enjoy your delusions of purity but I assure you everyone you have ever met and ever will meet has had dark thoughts of violence, disturbing imagery and vile emotions. It's part of life, denying that is denying life.

We are well aware and do not have our head in our ass. But I have never met anyone but you and other awful people who would not only have, but vocalize in detail those thoughts to other people, whether those people were the target of those thoughts or not. I’ve met plenty who write journals irl to get it out, who draw to get it out, or write whump and angst fanfics in order to vent it out in a manner that doesn’t emotionally hurt anyone or suddenly shove those thoughts onto individuals who may not be mentally or emotionally prepared to hear it, even if they have them too or have similarly aligned ones. Again, there was no context that you could ever assign to the screenshot being talked about in this part that would make what you said in anyway ever acceptable, even to those who have intrusive or dark thoughts of violence, disturbing imagery, or vile emotions.

I've never 'defended someone sexualising a little alter in the server' and I'm still baffled where the hell that came from??

We have screenshots and logs that prove the opposite, and I’m sure the person we received them from would not be all that fussed if we asked for them a second time and gave them to either of the blogs that currently have callouts circulating about you. Because you did do this, you may not have recollection of it, but the non-little alters of that system and the one who tried to step in and were stopped by you certainly do.

Everything else was scraped out of personal DMs and my personal spaces I used to manage my BPD away from public spaces and only where people I thought I could trust could see (obviously I couldn't lol) but that I have zero recollection of

And as we stated in our original review, your BPD, your (suspected, but not formally diagnosed) autism, or any other mental illness diagnoses or disorder you may have does not absolve you of the fact that many of the things you did were not okay. Your continued use of “but I have [x mental illness/disability] and was managing it” or “it was personal” will not change our minds on that. We are formally and professionally diagnosed as Autistic, we know  you have attempted to excuse your behavior before by saying you might be autistic yourself. Thereby you were attempting to excuse your shitty behavior with being possibly autistic, and excuse your shitty behavior because you have BPD does not fly. Many of the people with callouts against you or who don’t like you either know someone with, or also have BPD/Autism or whatever other mental illness or disability you’re going to try excusing it with next time.

I think you guys are just having fun giving me horns and trying to deny me any consideration of changing or improving.

Another sign you did not fully read our review, or just plain didn’t believe us due to your own assumptions. As we state in the last part that is specifically addressed to you that we hope you are able to change and improve, that you are able to recognize what you did hurt people and was wrong, and that you rectify and show through your actions that you do that. But downplaying all of this as you are as just drama, or just a facet of “cancel culture”, or whatever other thing that makes it sound less significant does not prove that. And so, as of right now, as we respond to this and surely as you continue with your server and trying to twist things to fit your narrative, you have not shown that you have changed or improved.

Because that's what this thinking does. It labels people permanently as 'BAD PEOPLE', and they can't ever grow beyond that. It makes their lives feel worthless, and they themselves beyond saving, and so they end up repeating the same mistakes, because no one expects anything more from them. I know this because I've always tried to break this in how I run my server. With the belief that anyone can become something better, that anyone who believes anything, holds any views can be helped to grow and function better among others. That's why I allow people with 'bad views' around me. That's why I talk to them, that's why I actually spend time treating people as people and not punching bags like you do.

We don’t treat people like punching bags, no matter their views. We treat people as people, even if we disagree, but if those people do not treat us as people in return, it’s harder to feel empathy when they have consequences slap them in the face. I know you’re referring to our rewritten rules here, and I’m sure you’ve trashed them to make your own again, and stopped cracking down so hard on all the usage of slurs in the server once again. And if cracking down on that and keeping to our word about not allowing those on the server is what you see as treating people not as people, then I don’t know what to tell you. Slurs come inherently from bigotry, no amount of “opposing views” erases that those words come from that. Let alone that there are some views that are simply bigotry dressed up in a political hat.

We did talk to those people, we had debates, and we stepped in when people were getting too heated between each other to be considered a debate. Anyone can become better and improve, anyone can make a change to do so. But you can only do that if you put in the effort, and so far, you haven’t done that. You’re all talk, but you haven’t actually walked the walk.

You do not help the problems in the world, you merely cement them, so I will never run my server how you want me to, because it is wrong and I won't cave to a bunch of bullies.

You mean how we want you to run the server in a way that makes sure it’s not a place that lacks solace and allows bigotry to fester under the guise of different views? Or how we want you to make sure that any system littles currently in that server, if they haven’t left already, are protected so that they aren’t sexualized and that you don’t defend the people sexualizing those littles? Because from how we see it, none of those things particularly make us “bullies” like you claim, they just make us considered a decent person who has proper boundaries on what they will and won’t allow, and someone who’s willing to actually enforce them so that members don’t feel uncomfortable or unsafe.

Anyway, as before, we doubt you’ll read all of this, but if you do, here’s a big notice, right in big big italicized letters:

We won’t be responding again, flail all you want, make a fuss, throw a tantrum that we aren’t going to give you the time of day. Because we honestly don’t care. Because we don’t and never have owed you any of our time.

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Piper Sargasso

Piper Sargasso has 25 stories at Gossamer, but don’t miss her website where the fics each have cover collage art. If you are a fan of Mulder/Scully romance, there are a lot of MSR fics to read that are set in different seasons of the show. But like the show that never stuck to one type of story, Piper’s stories have variety, so you can also find AUs and /Other.  Big thanks to Piper for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

It does, but I love that people are still into it! Writers back in the day put so much work and love into their writing, and it's nice to know that the stories are still being appreciated to this day. As for my own stories, it puts a huge smile on my face to know there are still people out there checking them out and hopefully enjoying them.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

It was such a positive period of my life. I made some amazing friends who became something like older sisters (and some brothers) to me, even though I was a little ridiculous when I was in my early to mid-twenties. It was also a much-needed confidence booster. I was a pretty shy person and loved writing, but never had the nerve to show anything to anyone. My first fanfic was completely horrible, but because of it I made my first XF friend and super beta, Mimic117. Between her guidance and the encouraging words from my Yahoo group I was able to do something I really loved and felt great about myself and my abilities for the first time. That will stay with me forever. That first story was truly atrocious, but it was a catalyst for great things in my life when I needed them the most.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I remember trying this cool new thing called an AOL chat room, but they were more interested in perving on each other than talking about the show. Once I knew about fanfiction I kept seeing that some of my favorite authors kept mentioning IWTBXF in their notes, a Yahoo group named I Want to Believe. I looked it up, joined, and with great trepidation made my introductory post. Everyone was so warm and welcoming, and talking to my favorite authors in the group was a little like meeting a celebrity and finding out that they're awesome in real life. After IWTBXF fell apart, an off-shoot called Beyond the Sea was created with almost all of the original group transferring over. I stuck to my little family there and didn't branch out into much else, other than the rare dip into Haven. Ephemeral and Gossamer, of course.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Mostly the overwhelming feeling of acceptance and confidence to write, something I was sorely lacking before in my life. I fell in with the best group, that's for sure! They made me feel like being a professional writer could be an achievable goal.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

The commercial advertising. The pilot spoke to my supernatural-loving, angsty 15 year-old soul. I watched it religiously every week. There was nothing like it. It was off-beat, but serious (most of the time) and fulfilled my insatiable craving for the paranormal and weird. You just couldn't get that from Melrose Place and Beavis and Butthead, you know? It definitely helped that David Duchovny was adorable and the character of Scully was the strong and intelligent icon we needed in the 90's and beyond.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

In high school I had a friend who was as obsessed with the show as I was. Maybe more, since she once had a slumber party that was exclusively to binge watch her taped episodes (the other girls who wanted to mess around with spells and the Ouija board weren't thrilled that she couldn't be swayed away from it) and she often drove me from play rehearsals in her convertible with the top down and the theme song blasting to the heavens, much to my delight and mortification. A couple years after we graduated she told me about the piece of fanfic she wrote. Insert a record screech here. What?! You mean there are thousands of stories dedicated to my favorite show? And hundreds more get added every month?! I was obsessed. If I could've stopped working and slept at my computer desk I would have.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Sadly it's nonexistent these days. I have great memories and it holds a big piece of my heart, but I haven't been active in a long time. I would love to see a huge revival, and would definitely want to be involved in that in some way, were it to happen.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I read a lot of Harry Potter fanfiction for a while, but I never could expend the kind of energy and time I did for the X-Files fandom. It came at a perfect time in my life, and so far nothing else has measured up to it.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Besides XF characters? Off the top of my head I really love Hermione Granger, Buffy Summers, Elizabeth Bennet, and Claire Fraser for their sass and strength of character, Severus Snape for his complexity, and Christina Ricci's version of Wednesday Addams for her pure awesomeness. She's pretty much my spirit animal.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I do occasionally. I watched the series from season 1-7 so many times that I started to burn out, but I get on my X-Files kicks sometimes and binge it again.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

Like with the show, I'll get nostalgic and need to consume all the fanfics my greedy little eyes can behold until I move on to something else. It can feel a little lonely though, if you'll excuse the drama. We're not in the heyday anymore, so it feels a little like walking through a ghost town. Many of the stories out there are suspended in time because the show ended, or people stopped writing.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I know I have dozens, but I'm drawing a blank. My ultimate favorite is any well-written MSR casefile with UST finally resulting in RST. Those are my unicorns!

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I have a silly one called Baby, It's Cold Outside that I sometimes read around Christmastime. It was a fluffy song-fic, but I can see the scene so clearly in my mind when I read it and it's just pure fun. I also like my Donnie Pfaster series. I can see the potential in my writing with those, which makes me feel I could really write something special someday. Plus, he's such an interesting little slimeball to write and read about. Bless his heart.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I still think about the two WIPs I haven't finished. I wrote myself into a corner with This Mortal Coil, and honestly I think it needs a total overhaul. I think Dana Scully's Diary would be a fun one to finish. I hate that I never finished them.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I think about writing fanfic now and then and I've had a couple original novels sketched out, but there are so many other demands on my time that I haven't gotten very far. I still plan to see the novels through, even if no one but interested friends and family read them.  

Where do you get ideas for stories?

I used to watch an episode and really study the actors' expressions and actions, always trying to find new angles to the stories we all know. A lot of times things would just come to me and I'd get so excited I couldn't sleep until I wrote a good chunk of it down.

What's the story behind your pen name?

The friend who introduced me to fanfic told me the best way to choose a pen name was to make sure it derives from the show. For a couple days I looked at the titles and summaries of episodes and agonized over just the right name. Finally Piper Maru and the summary from Triangle, which mentions the Sargasso sea, stood out and just clicked.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My now husband always knew, and he thought it was cool that I had a hobby that made me so happy, but he was never a reader. My parents found out when I was about 24 and my step-dad would tell EVERYONE about it, much to my horror. Most reactions were of the bland, "Oh yeah? That's nice." variety but I definitely got some weird looks from others. The worst was when I found out how much of my racier MSR stories my parents read. My step-dad thought it was hilarious and teased me a little. My usually open-minded mom was uncomfortable, but tried to be supportive. It's all fun and games until your daughter starts writing psuedo-erotica for anyone to see!

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Circe Invidiosa very generously hosts a page for me at http://pipers.invidiosa.com.

(Posted by Lilydale on January 26, 2021)

[softestgentlest]

Lily & Harry - high school fanfic

Harry Styles.

Harry fucking Styles.

An egotistical, quick witted asshole with a silver tongue and easy charisma.

He's also irritatingly privileged; not only is he filthy fucking rich, but he's also extraordinarily intelligent, and to top it all off, positively, mercilessly, despicably gorgeous. As if he wasn't already dealt the winning hand, his otherworldly physical attractiveness afforded him the freedom to do whatever the hell he pleased, whenever, and wherever he wanted to do it.

And, of course, in some cruel twist of fate, he most often chose to utilize his influence by victimizing me: Lillian Mercier, a quiet, harmless junior, whose sole desire is to graduate ASAP, so I can move onto Cambridge University by the Fall of next year.

I'm on track to receive my diploma a year early, according to my guidance counselor, but I've got to keep my GPA above a 3.8 at least, if I have any hope of getting admitted into my uni of choice.

My mind is humming, sifting through upcoming exams, assignments, papers that need writing, and a number of other priorities as I open up my locker.

I'm just pulling out my SAT prep book, when a series of excited murmurs echo through the crowded hallway. A girl a few feet away turns, whispering to her friend, "I think my ovaries just exploded, dude. Look at Harry's haircut."

I roll my eyes, swapping the prep book with the AP English text that's currently weighing down my bag. I try to focus on my mental "to do" list, but I'm now annoyingly in-tune with the girl's conversation, unable to block them out.

"I know! How could he have gotten even hotter? And look at his outfit...like, he can literally make anything look good."

"Oh my goooodd dude, he's graduating this year. I honestly think I'll die, like, he's the only thing that makes this school tolerable."

"Shhhh, they're coming over here."

The girls go quiet, and I tense, keeping my eyes trained on the interior of my locker. Harry will be graduating at the end of the year, as he's a senior, and with that knowledge, I feel intensely relieved.

Even if I can't graduate early, he'll be gone, and I'll actually be able to enjoy my senior year.

A smile plays across my lips as I stretch to reach the top shelf of my locker, standing on my tippy toes. I'm 5'3, and these lockers were clearly built by men of average height, with little to no regard for high schoolers of smaller statures.

I know I threw some flash cards up there in the rush to make the bus yesterday, but even when I step up and onto the metal base of my assigned storage space, I still can't seem to-

I gasp, as I lose my footing and fall backwards. Luckily - or, maybe unluckily - my fall is broken by something solid. I hear a soft grunt, and large hands grip my waist, steadying me.

I pant, pressing a hand to my racing heart, when I feel something soft brush against the sensitive shell of my ear, "good morning to you too, clumsy."

I shiver, and pull away, immediately recognizing that deep, accented voice as it burns hotly into my skin.

Do not engage, I mentally remind myself, forcing my trembling hands to occupy themselves with the contents of my backpack.

He tssks, clicking his tongue, "Aren't you going to thank me?"

"Thanks." I concede through gritted teeth.

He chuckles, leaning too close for comfort once again, "it was my pleasure, Lillian." His voice drops an octave on the word 'pleasure,' giving it an unnecessarily sexual undertone, if only to get under my skin.

At the corner of my vision, I see his shadowed silhouette as he leans against the locker beside mine, tall and domineering as ever.

I ignore his presence, slowly zippering up my bag, and securing my lock, before reluctantly turning to face him.

The first thing I notice is the lack of hair. What had once been long, lustrous, chocolaty curls, is now shortened gossamer strands of hair falling over his forehead in a provocative, untidy tumble. The new cut exposes his defined jawline, and those sharp, light catching cheekbones.

As usual, he's dressed to the nines, somehow managing to make his unexpected attire look effortlessly appealing. Today, he's clad in a strange mix of professional, and bohemian pieces: a blue and white checkered wool jacket, a dark pinstriped suit, a red beaded necklace. He's got on bright pink socks, and white loafers, and his signature assortment of rings.

I clear my throat when he catches me checking him out, "Harry, I didn't know you could sew."

He looks perplexed, considering my assumption with furrowed brows, "I can't."

"Oh, then I suppose it was your mother who made that jacket from one of her tablecloths?"

He tilts his head to one side, and runs his fingers roughly through his freshly cut curls, "this," he snarks, smoothing his hands down the woolen fabric, "is a $2,000 jacket, love."

I roll my eyes, hitching my bag over my shoulder, and turn to walk away, only to come face to face with Mitch and Nick, two of Harry's equally asinine friends.

"Excuse me." I prompt. The two boys ignore me, smirking over my head at their scumbag leader.

I huff, turning back around, knowing full well that they aren't going to do anything unless he commands it. "I don't have time for this, Harry." I cross my arms, pursing my lips in annoyance, "I'm gonna be late to class, and so are you."

His mouth curves dangerously, drawing my attention to the pillow-soft push of his lips. "And we wouldn't want that, now would we, Lillian?" he pronounces my name so that it drips from his shapely lips leisurely, provocatively. "What with your big plans to graduate early."

Immediately, I recoil, meeting his expectant stare with wide eyes, "H-how...?"

"Oh, you thought I wouldn't find out?" He pushes off the lockers, Stepping closer, "did you know that you're GPA is just .01 points less than mine?" His voice is honeyed, sickeningly sweet - it sets off warning bells in my head.

I swallow nervously, taking a small step backwards, "I don't see what that has to do with my plan-"

"Oh, but it has everything to do with your plans." Again, he advances, but this time I hold my ground, tilting my head to meet his stare, "you see, we weren't competing before...not really. But, if you graduate ahead of your class and maintain that same GPA, well...Cambridge won't even look at me, regardless of my achievements, because you'll have the edge."

I blink, processing his words, "You want to go to Cambridge...?"

He quirks a dark brow, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

I'm dumbfounded, "But...but I-you...but-that's just ridiculous!" I nearly stomp my foot at the sheer absurdity of the notion, but opt to clench my fists at my sides instead.

He looks utterly amused, and leans a bit closer, a challenge in his eyes: "is that right?"

"Why would you want to go to Cambridge?!" I note how whiny my voice sounds, but I'm too distressed to care.

He's full on grinning now, his emerald eyes dancing with glee. "wouldn't you like to know" He purrs in that slow, sexy drawl, his voice dropping so low that it can only be heard by the two of us.

It is then that the bell rings, shrill and disruptive, tearing me from his trance-like stare.

I realize how close we've gotten, our faces perhaps six inches apart. I can feel the warmth of his body radiating off of him and wrapping around me. Before I can stop myself, I inhale his intoxicating scent: spicy and earthy and masculine, like cigarettes and pine and the leather spines of old books.

For a fraction of a second, my eyes slip shut...he smells so damn good.

Then, just as quickly, I blink, and step back, my heart racing in my chest. I did NOT just...

He straightens, raking his eyes over my trembling frame with an air of affected smugness. Silently, he steps the side, watching me as I collect myself, an embarrassing blush infusing my cheeks.

Slowly, I move down the hallway towards my class, uncharacteristically unconcerned with the possibility of being marked tardy. I can tell that he's following, as students all around turn to stare behind me. We're in the same English class.

My brain seems to have gone into overdrive, conjuring up insane reasons for why I'd smelled him and liked it enough to consider doing it again. Impossible. Harry's a prick. The bane of my existence. Sure, he's wildly attractive, but never have I ever been even remotely interested in him...sexually. So what the hell was that?

Why am I all hot and blushing and trembly? Why?! Especially after he'd dropped the Cambridge bomb! I mean, really? Of all the schools for him to choose, it had to be my dream school. And of the thousands of people I'll be competing with to be admitted, it just had to be him.

Harry's one of the smartest people I've ever met, and he's got the resources and connections to get into any school he wants. The chances of two kids from the same high school getting into Cambridge are absolutely zero, and whether I graduate early or not, Harry's a shoe in for a spot there - he's the ideal student: rich and intelligent and driven, with a shit ton of community service and extracurriculars under his belt, and with a number of published poems and short stories.

He'll take my spot there just by aiming his perfect white grin in the right direction. And if we were both admitted, by some miracle, that would be even worse! 6 more years with him?! I'd die. I couldn't take it. I'd-

"Ah!" I gasp, colliding with a tall boy for the second time today. My books fly out of my arms again, and I fall flat in my ass with a soft yelp of pain.

"Woah! Are you ok?" A voice asks, and I glance up to find a familiar blonde boy looking down at me.

"Um, y-yeah." I say, quickly moving to stand up. Like a gentleman, he reaches down, offering me a hand, and I take it, allowing him to pull me gently to my feet. "Uh, sorry about that. I wasn't paying attention..." I smile sheepishly,

"Oh, no, it's totally fine." He grins back, then kneels down to pick up my books. "As long as your ok."

"Really, I'm fine." I giggle, kneeling down to help. "Your Neil, right? I think we have psych together?"

He hands me my things, standing up, "close! It's Niall, and yeah, 6th period right?"

I nod, "Niall. Yeah, I'm Lily. I'm the one always shouting out the answers and then getting yelled at." I giggle nervously, feeling a little self conscious around this boy with pretty blue eyes and a kind smile.

He laughs, "well, I'm definitely not one to shout out answers. I'm terrible at Psych." He gestures for me to walk with him, and I do, "I'll walk you to your class, just to make sure your alright."

I roll my eyes playfully, but follow, "I already ran into you. Don't let me be the reason that your late to class too."

I lead the way to the English wing, and we joke lightly about our Psych teacher, Mrs. Campbell. By the time we've arrived, the bell has rung, and I know that he's going to be late because of me, but he doesn't seem to care.

"Hey," he calls out, just as I'm about to open the door to my classroom, "maybe you could tutor me sometime? In Psych? You always seem to be yelling the right answers, and I could really use the help..." he rubs the back of his neck nervously, and I can't help but smile at how cute he looks.

"It's the least I can do after running into you." I say, "let's talk in class later?"

"Yeah, sure!" He backs down the hallway, "I'll see you then, Lily!"

When I enter the classroom, there's still a smile on my face, and I quietly make my way to an empty seat in the back. My teacher, Mr. Gray, shoots me an inquisitive look, since I'm not one to show up late to my favorite class, but he doesn't call me out on it.

"Alright guys," he says, "while I was reading you essay submissions from last week, I noticed quite a few spelling errors, so I thought we might have a little bit of a...spelling bee today, just to see where we all stand when it comes to commonly misspelled words." The class groaned collectively, and he laughed, "nothing to worry about. This won't count for a grade, I just want a chance to see where everyone stands. It'll be fun!"

Mr. Gray proceeded to split the class into two groups, and two at a time, he called students up to the board, and in tournament fashion, the winner played the winner from the opposite team. I could tell that he was saving certain students for the end, since they would likely beat out all the competition, thereby depriving their teammates of turns. By the time it got to me, only a few students were left on the opposing team.

"Ok, Kim," he called to my competitor, "your word is Accidentally" Kim correctly spelled two words, and then swapped out with another teammate, Jamie, who only beat me on one word.

"Alright, this is it, guys. Last two. Harry, join Lily up front."

Immediately, my eyes found him, just as the rest of the class turned to watch him rising from his seat. He took a step towards me. Then another. I sort of shivered, watching him move, observing his long legs, slowly closing the space between us with their every measured step. There's something almost feline about it - the way he moves - very masculine...and very...sexual, if that makes any sense at all.

I averted my eyes as he took up the space beside me. Again, the drowsy scent of books and pine with undertones of coffee and tobacco invaded my senses, and I felt my knees threatening to buckle.

"Harry, your word is 'allegiance'"

I felt him smiling, tasted his smooth baritone, skating hotly down my spine: "A-L-L-E-G-I-A-N-C-E. Allegiance."

"Lily, controversy."

I spelled it correctly and held my breath, gazing stubbornly straight ahead.

"Harry, 'immediately.'" He did the same.

"perseverance"

"Accommodate"

"I-N-T-E-L-L-I-G-E-N-C-E, Intelligence." I glanced over at Harry, noting the look of intense boredom on his face as he stared off into the distance. Clearly, this was too easy for both of us.

"Too easy is it, Lillian?"

"Uh, w-what?" I snapped out of my reverie, glancing at Mr. Gray, who looked rather amused.

"If you think it's too easy, we can really put you two to the test. What do you think class?" Mr. Gray looked around, and the class erupted into excited giggles and shouts.

Realizing my mistake, I felt my cheeks flush hot with embarrassment, "oh I-I didn't m-mean to say that um...out loud sir..."

The damage had already been done. Mr. Gray grinned, clearly excited to have piqued the class's interest, "alright then, let's try....sacrilegious."

Harry, looking rather more alert than he had before, turned to look at me, holding my stare even as each honeyed letter fell from his lips "S-A-C-R-I-L-E-G-I-O-U-S" the flecks of gold in his eyes danced, embers crackling, glittering.

"Conscientious, Lily."

"Oh, um..." I quickly averted my gaze, glancing nervously at my trembling fingers, "C-O-N..." my heart wobbled in my chest. What's comes next? "...S-C-I-E-N-T-I-O-U-S, Conscientious." I want this to be over...

Harry chuckled beside me, low and slow. I felt his eyes on me. "bureaucratic." He spelled, quick as a whip, and all eyes were back on me.

"Bourgeoisie." Amidst the nerves and exhaustion, my stubbornness gave way to another correct answer. I won't lose to him. Not this, not Cambridge.

He managed "clairvoyant," "coalescence," and "kaleidoscope." I got through "lachrymose," "mnemonic," and "pharmaceutical," and then, finally, he messed up.

I heard it in his voice first, knew before it happened that I had won. Mr. Gray - once again proving himself to be my favorite teacher- threw "triskaidekaphobia" at Harry, and we both froze.

"T-R-I-S-K....A-D-E-K-A-P-H-O-B-I-A." Harry murmured uncertainly, sounding just as breathless as I felt. The class had gone silent, and I could hear my heart racing.

"Incorrect." Mr. Gray uttered, but before the class could erupt into cheers, he continued, "let me just say, Harry, Lily, that was extraordinary. Really, very good show." He slowly began to clap, and our classmates followed suit, whooping and jeering at Harry good-naturedly.

I turned to glance at him then, not feeling very excited about having won. I couldn't help the little gasp that escaped my throat when I saw his face. He had curved his mouth into a grin, ran a hand through his hair boyishly, a calculated carelessness slackening his features - but I saw it in the way his lips twitched, in the way his eyes glossed over and darkened to muted jade.

He's upset. I realized, moving closer without really thinking about it. He's really, really upset.

"H-Harry?" I heard myself whisper, voice trembling. Everyone had, by now, moved into their own little groups, all talking animatedly about the results of our little duel, so they weren't really paying us any mind.

His smile faltered - just for a moment - "good game." He husked, his voice raw. He held out a hand, quirking a brow, watching me with those expectant eyes.

It was then, in that moment, that I realized, very suddenly, that Harry is...beautiful. Like, proper beautiful, like earth shatteringly, mind numbingly gorgeous.

The realization hit me with such immense force that I had to grab his outstretched hand to keep from crumbling to the ground. "O-oh." My mouth parts on the startled little noise, and suddenly I'm very aware of the gentle press of his cold rings against my fingers, his large hand claiming mine, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he holds me. "Uh-huh." My response catches in my throat and comes out sounding like a strangled hiccup.

Quickly, I pull away, stumbling back a few steps, I tear my eyes from his face, flailing my hands around like a monkey.

What the fuck?

•••••••••

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT A PART 2 💛

[dotthings]

Okay SPN 15.04, here we go, where I feel weirdly self-conscious about posting a meta post about an ep that had so much meta on itself and now I’m going to write meta about it, so it’s meta on meta on meta, while I’m having my feelings.

THAT COLD OPEN HOLY CRAP DIRECTOR JENSEN. As a director Jensen always pulls out warm performances from actors and he’s a really kinetic director too. That opening fight sequence I held my breath for a lot of it. 

BENNY OH NOES IT’S BENNY (this must be the character Jensen said was one of his favorites and the actor came back to set for one day to do it). “I’ll see you on the other side, brother.” Thanks so MUCH, spn, I thought I was over this and then you come in and reopen that and now I’ve got feelings gdi. Benny was a good friend to Dean. My heart hurts. 

Ohshitohshitohshitohshit demon blood Sam. Noooooo. And he kills Dean. I can never erase these images from my mind, thanks a LOT spn. 

Just a nightmare of Sam’s except no probably not given Sam’s god-wound, so wow this maybe happens on one of Chuck’s other worlds, that’s fine, oh that’s okay I’m fiiiiine, it’s fine. *covers face*

So we have a flip on early S14 here where Dean was turtling to cope with his trauma which is a healthy thing to do but hiding from the world wasn’t going to fix anything so Sam coaxes him out with a hunt. Dean coaxes Sam out with a hunt only I don’t think hunting works for Sam the same way, it’s not Sam’s mental comfort food the way it is for Dean, but still I appreciate the mirroring there.

Sam’s struggling with Rowena’s death and I think those horrific AU nightmare visions aren’t helping much either, but it’s clear he’s feeling the loss. Her loss, all the recent losses.

Dean trolls Sam with real bacon, which seems like Dean is maybe trying to cheer Sam up by pranking him and trying to cheer himself up via food pranks. Dean has quite the case of the munchies in this ep. 

I noticed almost every scene Dean is snacking or drinking from his flask. How’s that whole “Cas walked out and left apparently for good” working out for you Dean, wow, you’re suspiciously chipper while stuffing your face and drinking and Not Talking About It. Did Sam and Dean talk about where’s Cas? Who knows, the ep didn’t mention it, hey SPN you needed a Cas mention, OH WAIT THE EP IS GOING TO CALL ME OUT FOR SAYING THAT.

Seriously though, this is very Dean MO, and I have thoughts about his mood in this ep and how Cas’s absence was felt, and what it means, I’ll get to that later, but even before the last scene Impala talk, I was thinking Cas is a reminder of pain--and no it’s not all about Dean’s anger at Cas, it’s not because Dean is angry at Cas. Cas is a reminder of some things Dean just isn’t coping with very well and part of the problem is Dean cares so much. 

So Dean’s snacking and drinking and Sam is feeling the weight of them knowing all the scary things out there while people go on obliviously with their lives and I’m not sure if Sam is envying them or Sam is feeling some existential angst about the state of the world, how people can go about their lives unaware there are real monsters ready to pounce and tear their lives to shreds. And feeling the weight of the job they do in every bone of his body. Sam’s in a dark headspace.

Ok I admit I was not thrilled to see Becky again given her previous episodes and role. SPN’s later in-canon fan characters were much more nuanced and successful and respectful depictions of fans. But as with many other things, this era of SPN is revisiting some things to move them forward in a different way than before, and subvert some things that needed subverting and Becky has had--wait for it--character development. How about that.

Yes, Becky, run, you do not want anything to do with Chuck. Run, Becky run. I’m rooting for her now. RUNNNN.

Along with finding a more constructive way of channeling her interest in the Winchesters’ lives, and having a satisfying fandom creative life and a full life of her own, Becky has funko pops of Sam, Dean, and Cas. LOL. I see you spn. 

Dean, still with the case of the munchies. So this is like the eating a whole pint of ice-cream after a break-up, only Dean does it with junk food while hunting vampires.

I enjoyed this conversation between Becky and Chuck about writing immensely. Becky is actually right. Speaking myself as someone who’s suffered from writers block for a while, it’s miserable, and not writing just perpetuates the cycle. You feel cut off from an important part of yourself. And--oh here we go getting meta within meta--I find writing meta on SPN a positive outlet. 

“Writing is writing.” Damn Becky’s takedown of Chuck’s derisiveness about fanfic was sizzling and oh excuse me Chuck, what is it you think you were doing with those Supernatural books about your favorite story. Even though he’s the creator, I know. But still. Also seems to be a sly comment on how male-authored “fanfic” based on someone else’s characters or historical characters gets to be professionally published novels and nobody wants to admit it’s fanfic but it is, but women write fanfic and women write novels based on someone else’s characters or historical figures and it gets derided. 

Did not expect commentary celebrating the creativity and validity of fanwork of women in particular an episode of SPN, especially not with Becky of all people, but here we are. 

Uhhhh is Chuck writing this episode, as it happens? I am seriously uneasy now. What is going on. What is real. Which is what I think Dean is going through because of Chuck and OUCH the Winchesters think they’re free but they’re not but also they are their own people and Chuck isn’t controlling them but it’s like he’s still making the framework?? Or would this case just be happening on his own and Perez is just messing with our heads in this script right now.

Oh damn because this ep wasn’t sadness enough now here we go with the Jack parallels. “I can’t control this.” “I’m a monster.” “I killed someone I love.” Parents doing anything to save their out of control teenage kid or does he need to be killed, so the parents are Cas, while Sam and Dean are Dean. 

Interesting that Dean lowered the gun and didn’t kill Jack, but tells Sam they would do that for Jack if it was necessary. You didn’t, though, Dean. You couldn’t go through with it any more than those distressed parents of the vampire teen.

Becky is voicing various non-dire fan complaints here, every lane of the fandom is being gently called out right now. Hahaha including lack of Cas mentions in an ep that pointedly is not!Mentioning Cas because it’s not a mistake there’s actually reasons for that which is just lampshading how much Dean is pointedly Not Going to Talk About Cas. 

“Where they sit around doing laundry and talk” -- again every lane of the fandom should feel very called out right now. Seriously, fandom lanes that hate each other’s guts all have that common factor of craving more domesticity, and would like to see the laundry ep of SPN and for many, it has better include Cas, or we’re working through our need for this via fanfics or fanart. Even Jared and Jensen have expressed interest in a “Winchesters do the laundry” kind of episode. 

But here’s the thing--here’s the thing about SPN...it depicts domesticity. In small bits of pieces. Even in this ep there’s domesticity. SO HA. It’s not that SPN is against depictions of domesticity, it’s definitely in the toolset of its storytelling, to give the characters more layers, to make their lives seem more real, but there needs to be mostly an action plot because that’s the genre so they mostly kill monsters and we only get nibbles of domesticity.

Becky and Chuck arguing about Chuck’s incredibly dark story ending, after Becky criticized him for the story not having enough bite, was so interesting. While the episode’s dark story ending was actually quite well done IMO and not overdone and yes it’s bleak but it’s supposed to be. So it’s not that sad is always terrible writing, no. It isn’t. But its overuse has been a raging hot topic in spn fandom for years and SPN is a hopeful narrative as well as a bleak one. Overuse of loss of hope and misery can hurt the story, causes a number of fans to become desensitized and lose their emotional engagement for it (which has happened to be at a couple of points in SPN’s long run). So that conversation interested me a great deal, yes it did.

So.....SPN had its current biggest of the biggest of ultimate big bads, the ultimate power God himself, the author, and made him the enthusiast for overuse of the misery pr0n like that’s the only smart way to tell a story. The season’s big bad villain is a misery porn enthusiast.

I’m just gonna....sit here and absorb that for a moment.

Oh and this while all the PR for the show keeps warning us about how sad this story is and how bleak the ending will be, not a happy ending show. Are they warning us? Are they trolling us and misdirecting? Because they made their villain a misery pr0n fanboy and this intelligent, self-aware positive depiction of Becky the fan taking him to task for it. 

I feel like could be headed for every story needs its darkness and its light, you need the darkness to appreciate the light, and you need some light or the story is less meaningful. We’ll see.

“I’m a writer,” says Chuck and then takes away everyone Becky loves and then unmakes Becky. This is a purposeful depiction of a writer creator as a sadist. It’s a diabolical reversal on the Stephen King’s Misery scenario. Becky played the deranged fangirl in the past, who kidnaps an object of obsession, now she’s the victim of the deranged sadistic writer who breaks into her home, destroys her life, and then effectively kills her because of his own obsession with making Sam and Dean wretchedly miserable because he thinks that’s the only way to make the story exciting.

*blinks*

In the last scene, oh thanks Sam, for vocalizing the Jack connection. 

Hey Dean, that’s really a nice speech and yes Sam did give you a great pep talk but Sam wasn’t the only one who told you what you did still has meaning. This is like 15.01 where Dean is pointedly erasing Cas again despite Cas very obviously having done something Dean refuses to acknowledge. In 15.01 it was Dean leaving Cas out of his us vs the forces of evil speech to Sam, despite Cas having spent most of the ep shooting ghosts in the face and saving Sam’s life twice. Sam and Cas both have given Dean pep talks about the meaning of what they do but only Sam pulled Dean out of it...uhhh yeah that’s not writer error or canon ignoring Cas. That’s Dean trying to push Cas out of his mind. Something there hurts so much Dean isn’t dealing with it right now.

As I said, as I’ve been saying, it’s not so much that Dean is that angry at Cas. It’s not just about Mary. Or about Cas keeping things from him. Although those are all valid reasons for Dean’s hurt and anger. Dean seems to be afraid or hurt over more than that. And his love for Cas, IMO, is part of why this is weighing so heavily. What does he fear. I think it’s connected to the whole existential crisis about Chuck. What if none of this is real. I’ve talked about that in other posts, if none of this is real, if Dean still doubts, then what if what’s between him and Cas isn’t real, what if Cas doesn’t really care about him because none of it real. 

Dean valiantly puts a brave face on things here, they keep going, they keep fighting for the sake of those they lost, no matter what, “keep putting one foot in front of the other.” Which makes sense. That’s how you honor those you’ve lost. It’s just that I don’t think Dean has really reached that. He is Not Dealing with an awful lot of stuff here. And we have seen again and again how hard Dean reels from losing loved ones.  So what’s going on with Dean here. This is a healthy concept, but not if Dean is just whistling past the graveyard again. This might look like character development except look at what’s been going on with Dean. How deeply losing Mary, losing Jack affected him. The impact of those losses needs to be acknowledged and dealt with in order to truly move on and move forward. It’s like Dean is voicing a healthy outlook but isn’t actually experiencing it. I think Dean is posturing because if he lets all the hurt it right now, it will devour him.

There’s also the part where Sam and Dean have in the past displayed a lack of ability to just keep on keeping on if they lose each other, so they used to sell their souls, or violate the other one’s wishes and autonomy, or let the darkness free, but we’ve also seen them let each other go, and “keep putting one foot in front of the other.” Sam and Dean have done both ways with each other. Dean didn’t exactly just keep on keeping on no problem when Cas died at the end of S12.

Sam voices the other side of things, he can’t just move on right now. He’s feeling all the losses. They’ve piled up and piled up and it’s crushing him. Sam says he "can’t breathe” at times. He brings up Jessica, a loss he suffered 14 years ago. 

So Sam and Dean are airing the two aspects of loss and grief on SPN. One the one hand, you don’t just give up and quit because of loss. Honor who you’ve lost and keep on fighting. But losses are deeply felt, and it’s not all okay either. Sam and Dean don’t just shrug off these losses because they have each other. That’s not how this works. They need more than just each other and SPN is increasingly having more and more open dialogue about all of this.

S15 so far has been so much about the impact losing people they love has on Sam and Dean, and why their isolation isn’t a good thing. 

And there’s Chuck, the big bad, typing away to add more misery. Because Chuck gets off on giving them loved ones and taking them away, over and over and this isn’t presented as a good thing or a satisfying thing or a desirable thing or a celebration of anything. 

[literaryhedgehog]

So I was inspired recently by the amazing @katsens-writing to write a Good Omens piece. I started it at the end of November but decided I would release it today (A bit unedited maybe) as a New Years' present. Happy 2020 everyone.

This could be an AU, but I tried to write it within the context of the show. This is the first fanfic that I have actually completed, so please let me know what you think!

Aziraphale sat down expectantly at one of the tables, and ordered the local wine while he waited. It had only been a few weeks since he and Crowley had encountered each other again. What an amazing coincidence that they both had work in the same place this week! That hadn’t happened in over a century. He, of course, was rather looking forward to hearing about all that Crowley had been up to over the last century. They had meant to talk last week of course, but then the food arrived so promptly, and as they were finishing a messenger arrived requesting Aziraphale’s presence at the Library. (He decided to become a patron of it, he thought it was just wonderful that they were working to spread knowledge from around the world, even if mainly to the upper classes). Before he left he and Crowley had agreed to meet up again, at least one more time before either had to leave the city. Aziraphale knew a lovely place for drinks down the road, and they agreed that at noon on Friday they both could meet and discuss the happenings of the last millenia.

His wine arrived at his table as he was glancing up at the sun again. They hadn’t settled on a specific time to meet of course, just planned to eat a light repast for a mid-day meal. Aziraphale hated to be late, so he had arrived as the sun rose high in the sky. “there’s no reason to be concerned” he told himself, sipping the wine as he turned intentionally away from the sky. “He is likely very busy. Slithering about causing mischief somewhere no doubt.”

His glass was almost empty when he checked the sun for a fourth time. So consumed in looking up – surely two hours hadn’t passed already – that he initially didn’t notice the child approach and stand next to the table.

“Judge Aziraphale?”

He straightened, “yes, what can I do for you?”

“ I’ve got sent with a message for you. Mr. Crowley says sorry, a things came up and he can’t come today.”

He couldn’t come. Aziraphale told himself that the feeling in his stomach was just for want of food, he was just fine eating alone. It was no matter, really. He had looked forward to hearing stories about other parts of the world, but that was all. It was the stories, not the teller that was important. Eating lunch with Crowley was no different than eating with anyone else, Gab—well perhaps not Gabriel, but he was sure given enough time he could think of several beings he would equally enjoy eating lunch with. Five, at least.

“Well that’s perfectly all right. Lunch between two good friends can happen any day of the week can’t it?” He smiled at the boy, trying to give off the air of nonchalance and paternal affection – children liked that didn’t they? “It was so very good of you to carry that message for us! Did Mr. Crowley make sure you were paid for your time?”

“O’Course!” That seemed to be the wrong thing to ask, the child looked offended. “ Mr. Crowley isn’t the kind who expects you to kiss his sandals for none but the blessings of the gods.”

“How silly of me, I should have expected it.” Crowley always did have an affection for children, though it would take more effort than it was worth to get him to admit it. He had a way with them that Aziraphale never quite managed. He was never quite sure how to talk with them, logical conversations never quite held their interest and he was terrible at their small talk.  He had tried saying the things he usually heard from adults – you have grown so tall, what an interesting toy you have, and the like – but he assumed his statements must lack some genuinely because no child ever seemed to like him. It might have hurt his pride, but Aziraphale had long decided that he could serve the great plan just fine by solely interacting with adults. “Is that all you needed from me?”

“Yessir” Aziraphale finished his wine as the child left. He still had some time left in the afternoon to fit in a good work or two. Perhaps he could even get some food on the way. There was this vendor near the forum that always had the most lovely tarts…

                                                      …

It wasn’t quite two days later when Aziraphale had a bit of an incident with a robber. It was a rather minor event really – the man was looking for some money, and he cut Aziraphale with his knife before he realized that it was unnecessary. He did apologize after the two had a nice heart to heart about his long-forgotten dream to become an artist, but Aziraphale turned down his offer to fetch a healer. He had little confidence in the healers on this side of the city, and truth be told he was fairly confident that for a small injury like this his body would heal faster than could be easily explained. No, far better to return to his home and rest. That was all he needed. For now, he could do well enough just wrapping the area tightly with cloth and walking home.

It was a few blocks later when he started to feel a little odd. His eyesight did the strangest thing where little golden dots crept in from the outside of his vision, and he started feeling dizzy.

“It must be the blood loss,” he told himself, leaning against a cart and ordering himself a drink, any drink they could get quickly. “Or perhaps some shock. Nothing a little water can’t solve until I can make it home. I’ll just have to breathe more deeply until then.” He took a sip of whatever they handed him, barely tasting it as he realized his hand was shaking slightly. “It’s only a twenty-minute walk.”

He began again, walking up the hill towards his housing. He watched the ground as he walked, following the lines left behind by the carts. It wasn’t far. He could walk home, there was no need to stop.

As he was entering the temple district his vision began to cloud again, this time accompanied by a ringing in his ears. He found one of the pillars of the nearby temple and sat down, leaning against it for support. It was the sort of place normally occupied by the pour and injured, who had to live off the generosity of others. Luckily no one was at this particular pillar today, so he would just sit until his sight had returned to normal. Nothing to it.

When Aziraphale stood up a few moments later, he realized very quickly that this blood loss might be a bigger problem than he had anticipated. He was beginning to feel faint when he heard a familiar voice a few steps later.

“For a minute there, Angel, I thought you were sitting on the street planning to become a beggar.”

It was at that moment that the gold sparks had begun to close over Aziraphale’s eyes again, and he knew rather than saw himself reach out and grab Crowley’s arm for support. Or perhaps he grabbed his hand. He wasn’t quite sure. He thought he heard himself saying something like “Hello. I am currently trying to avoid fainting. Just a bit of blood loss, you know.” But at that moment his ears were ringing and his memory was hazy until the point where his vision and hearing cleared slightly to find his hand gripped in Crowley’s, arm resting on his, and Crowley saying “I think there should be somewhere to lie down in here.”

“Excuse me, my friend here’s taken a bit ill, you wouldn’t mind if he used one of your couches to die down for a bit?”

“Yes of course.” A fluttery female voice answered. “Right over here. What do you think is wrong? We have a healer on site, though not nearly as fine as I’m sure refined gentlemen such as yourselves are used to.”

“That would be lovely” Crowley answered, just as Aziraphale found the voice to say “Oh, I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

“What?” Crowley looked down at him, shock on his face. “Angel, you said you were about to faint from blood loss.”

“From mild blood loss.” Aziraphale sat on the sofa and leaned back, suddenly feeling the need to have his head back. “ I was lightly stabbed-“

“-STABBED-”

“-LIGHTLY stabbed. It was a slight misunderstanding, but it’s all right now. The gentleman realized that his skills are much more suited for the painting of statues – if its not refreshed it fades to the white of the marble you know – and I thought I would feel perfectly better with a little bit of rest.” He opened his eyes to find Crowley staring at him. The demon seemed at a loss for words, almost frustrated as he stared at Aziraphale.

“Right, you’re seeing our healer,” the female voice said. Aziraphale turned to see the speaker clearly for the first time. She had long brown hair left lose and flowing over her shoulders, which somewhat covered what her sheer dress was clearly not designed to. “Don’t worry though” she said, as another woman smelling faintly of herbs carried a small bag from the adjoining room and sat down on a cushion next to the sofa, “sewing cuts is one of her specialties.”

“Oh, how lucky you are to have a medical professional on your own premises! Is that common around here?”

“One of us had to learn,” the girl he supposed was the healer said, as she leaned over him, pulling his robe around so she could see the wound. Her hair, unlike that of her compatriot’s, was bound, and she barely glanced at his face as she sat up to stick a knife near the fireplace and thread a needle. “Girls need babes delivered, or a customer gets violent when he doesn’t feel satisfied with his service.” She turned to see the shock on his face, and smiled. A thin thing, slight enough that with very little effort it could be turned into a scowl. “ Doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it pays to have someone with even basic midwifing skills around. For anything complicated we run for my teacher. Now this will hurt, so I’ll thank you not to cut my hand off.”

“All right.” Aziraphale had no intention of cutting her hand off, deciding just to ignore what she was doing. If he didn’t think about it, all he felt was a light tugging sensation. He opted to scan the room, now that his eyesight had recovered and his head felt light enough again to notice his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that Crowley, who was now standing staring into the fire, had draped his cloak over Aziraphale’s legs. Then he saw that though the sitting room he was currently in was empty, he was being watched by numerous women, who were peering through the entrance of what looked to be a hallway. A few were wearing thin silk similar to the woman who had ushered them in, while others appeared to be wearing bright togas, or less. Aziraphale looked away quickly. “I do hope I didn’t disrupt anything. I would hate to be a bother.”

“Its fine,” a new voice came from the doorway, “we hardly have business at this time of day. In a couple hours though, you should probably be gone. I doubt you’ll have the stamina to keep up with our usual crowd.”

Aziraphale smiled briefly, but otherwise chose to ignore the snickers that came with that comment, and those from other women following it. He instead looked at the woman sitting in front of him, who had now taken her knife back from in front of the fire and was using it to cut and singe the ends of her thread. “Is that it then?”

“Just about.” She sat back and adjusted her toga, then began to repack her bag with the thread and needle, and other herb mixtures he hadn’t noticed her smear around the area. “You were lucky. It was only a small wound, and it had slowed bleeding enough that I could sew it up instead of cauterizing it.” He heard noises from the other girls then, sounds of disgust, and comments like “the smell takes forever to leave.” Crowley looked over at them, and they quickly grew silent.

“May I leave then?”

“I think you should lay there for a few more minutes, and hire a cart to carry you home, if you can afford it. I would definitely avoid going on any stairs for a while at least.” She stood up, and Crowley crossed the room to shake hands with her. He thought he might have seen the glimmer of coin pass between them. She turned to look at him once more before leaving the room, “I do hope you feel better soon.”

Crowley came and sat down by his feet. He had gotten a cup of wine somewhere and was sipping it slowly as he stared at the fire. Aziraphale cleared his throat, “so any interesting assignments lately?”

Crowley turned to look at him. “Really, Angel? That’s what you want to talk about? Not the fact that you were, as you said, ‘lightly stabbed’?”

“Not particularly.” They were silent for a few minutes. “I was just curious what came up the other day. I haven’t seen any major catastrophes around, so I thought you might have left the city.”

“Oh, that. No, it was nothing really. Just some demon drama. Nothing major, just some reports to sort out and all.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale went silent for a minute, looking at the demon’s profile. “Crowley, I-“

“There’s a cart here for you” a young boy ran in the door. He had to be 8 or 9, though Aziraphale reminded himself that he really had no idea how children aged. He had the nose of the first woman they had met. “He said he could take you anywhere you needed to go.”

“Oh. All right. Thank you very much.” With Crowley’s help he stood up and made his way towards the door. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Crowley flip the child a coin. Slithering softie.

Crowley helped him onto the cart and stood back. “Well, I’ll see you around Angel.”

“Oh, er, yes. Goodbye, Crowley. He gave the driver his address, then watched Crowley turn and disappear down a side street.

The next time they saw each other, a few months or millennia later, Crowley said that it was “good to see you well.” But that was all the mention they ever made of it. Aziraphale supposed that, to Crowley, it wasn’t anything to fuss over. Just an incident in their acquaintanceship, nothing more. And if it didn’t mean anything to him, then Aziraphale surely wasn’t going to bring it up. The fact that, in what might have been the most helpless moment of his existence, he felt instantly safe once he heard Crowley’s voice was irrelevant. Nor was the fact that he didn’t remember grabbing Crowley’s hand, they just naturally connected. Nothing worth fretting over, so he wasn’t going to mention it. Thanking him would only embarrass the demon.

And so, neither of them ever mentioned it again. Aziraphale certainly never thought about the feeling of Crowley’s hand when they were sitting next to each other on park benches feeding ducks. And why would Crowley ever feel the need to tense up when he saw Aziraphale within 100 meters of a sharp, malicious blade? That would be ridiculous, beyond suggestion. This incident meant nothing to either of them, so neither would ever admit thinking about it briefly every time they saw each other for the next few thousand years.

[queerchoicesblog]

A Promise Kept (OH/WT Crossover, Harper Emery & Ellen Thompson, Friendship)

As anticipated, my very first (official) crossover fanfic for the entry Friendship of the @choicesjulychallenge hosted by @kinda-iconic  ❤️

As I was playing Wishful Thinking I had this crazy idea: I started picturing an Ellen Thompson & Harper Emery friendship. They’re about the same age, they’re both devoted and esteemed professionals (dealing with scumbags like Ellen’s boss and Declan Nash *cough cough*)...long story short a friend-ship canon started shaping. And that’s the result: hope you like it!

Disclaimer: The fic contains a reference to this previous work as well as a personal background and FC (Gugu Mbatha-Raw is not the perfect FC but I get Harper vibes) for Dr. Emery

Prompt: Friendship

Word Count: 1988

Perma Tag: @brightpinkpeppercorn @melodyofgraves @bhavf @begging-for-kamilah @abunchofbadchoices @silverhawkenzie @kennaxval @strangerofbraidwood @crazypeanat @desiree-0816 @universallypizzataco

Harper Emery Tag: @bubblygothzombie @emeryharper @korrasamixfan  @delphinusbae

If you like this, please consider a like, comment, and/or reblog.

_____________________________

"Holy crap! How come I missed this?"

Aurora froze gaping at the box placed on her aunt's new desk. She stopped by to return her set of keys before starting her shift and found Harper unpacking her stuff in her new, well previous smaller yet comfortable office as "Head of Neurosurgery, Edenbrook Hospital". She had never been there before: she had only seen it during video calls but it was the first time she actually set foot there. There were a couple of boxes around filled with the little decor the place needed: her aunt's degrees, a few framed photos (graduation picture with beaming Dad, Grandpa and Nana; a rare shot of Harper and her mentor, Dr. Rabinovits, posing for the cameras and was that Alexander Evans, that former patient she heard of? Well, probably a family photo of the Evans wearing Santa hats), a small ebony sculpture, a painting of a Caribbean landscape and a set of wrist and hand stretchers. Books had already been organized over the shelves.

But that one...that was unexpected.

"What, Rory?" Harper asked, checking her bookcase.

Aurora's fingers grazed a frame before picking her up in her hands.

"You have been interviewed by Ellen Thompson? The Ellen Thompson?" she asked, showing the newspaper article that caught her attention.

Harper slowly diverted her eyes from her previous chore and let them linger a moment over the old article before moving closer and gently taking it from Rory's hands. A tiny smile filled with nostalgia formed on her lips: her younger self flashing an enigmatic smile to the camera casually sit on her desk was still in the dark of the tough challenges her career had in store for her. She was just happy, proud of herself; she was just forgetting for a moment the harsh reality of "that cruel science called neurosurgery", as Dr. Rabinovits put it. But the memory of that day was pleasant, comforting in a way.

"Yes, it was her last article she wrote before being promoted daytime anchor. I thought you knew? I'm pretty sure Nana has a copy of this, Marcus too probably..."

"Yeah probably...I must have missed it. I was too busy with college and my dissertation at the time probably..." Aurora considered. "But how?! I mean, I'm not trying to belittle your achievement, it's just...Ellen!"

"I know, I was surprised too at the time" Harper laughed softly.

"I bet!"

"I didn't think she would accept it. Because of bias, you know? She confessed that it had been quite a tough call for her, she's an incredibly talented professional and being accused of being biased is a capital sin in her field..."

"Biased? How could she be biased?" Aurora furrowed her brows, confused.

Harper took a pause and gave her an amused look.

"Because we're friends, Rory! Don't you remember?"

"You're friends??" Aurora gaped, plopping down on the sofa. "I really slept on this for years?"

"Well, we don't see each other as often as we once did now but we never truly drifted apart. And oh, you were probably too young to remember but she attended my graduation. Nana probably has pictures of that day...there was a small group of friends celebrating with us: you surely remember Bethany - she visited a few months ago, Nate, her college boyfriend, Ricardo, Alison, Elliott-"

"Oh I do remember Elliott! Your college sweetheart, dressed up to the nines and all googly eyes" the young Emery giggled.

"Glad you remember" Harper made a scene of rolling her eyes, smiling. "...and the most elegant of all was Ellen. That Ellen"

Aurora took a moment to reminisce the few memories she had of that day. Yes, probably...no surely! That girl in a gorgeous pink dress clinging her glass and chatting with Nana was Ellen. And...oh gosh, her younger self had even been so nosy to ask Ellen, that Ellen where she bought that dress because she wanted one just like hers. Luckily, Harper spoke again, saving Rory from the embarrassment of that moment.

"As I said we had somehow kept in touch over the years, against all odds. We were both so busy...her internships, her field jobs, my residency. But we managed to check on each other every now and then. Small things, even just a message in the voicemail or a quick call"

She smiled - a quick soft smile- and handed the framed article back to Aurora.

"When I became 'the youngest Head of Neurosurgery in the history of Massachusetts' she showed up at my door" she said, nodding behind her. "And announced that she was gonna interview me. It wasn't even up for debate, she would have signed that article"

"The hell with the friendship bias?" the niece asked, more and more involved in the story featuring two of her personal role model.

Harper smiled again, but it was a weaker one this time.

"Apparently so. She claimed that there were very good reasons to write it, even ethical reasons if you wish. She said that it was a story worth being told, that I could have inspired people out there, little girls in schools, things like that."

She sighed, shooking her head.

"Not sure I lived up to that inspirational role, but I tried, right?".

Aurora diverted her eyes: she knew what her aunt was referring to. She remembered the conversation they had the night before the hearing, their argument during the break of that hearing...and frowned. 

The weight of the last few words lead to a brief silence, interrupted only by the sounds of steps along the corridor. 

"Oh this must be Tanaka with Dr. Yannick. I asked them to stop by to sign those papers...excuse me, it won't be long"

That said, she hurried to meet the colleagues, leaving Aurora alone in her office. 

The Emery girl absentmindedly eavesdropped the three of them discussing a surgical oncology procedure but she got lost in the surgical medicalese the doctors spoke. So her eyes fell on the article in her hands again. She started reading:

“A Promise Kept: Why You Should Know The Story Behind Edenbrook Hospital New Shining Star" 

As some of you probably know, this will be my last article. Before you start getting sentimental about it, I do not regret it: I've spent so many years of my life typing behind a laptop and as much as they will always be an important, essential maybe, part of my life, I'm ready and eager for what comes next. You are going to hear my voice and see my face on your screen, brace yourself, dear readers.

I must confess that I was full of doubts about writing this article because I value ethics and professionalism. But I soon realized that ethics and professionalism are the main topics of this piece I'm writing and well, the very reason why this article should see the light of day.

So, for one last time, let me tell you a story.

More than a decade ago, I was a college student, an ambitious hard-working journalism major struggling over a research project. My professor asked the class to think outside the box and choose an issue we were not familiar with so that we were forced to document, do some real fact-checking and so on just like real reporters do. I spent hours in the library trying to find the perfect issue for a project I wanted to be A+, but nothing came. I was losing all hope when I noticed the notes of the girl sitting in front of me. They were complex anatomy schemes: she was a med student. Frustrated by my current situation, I did what I rarely do: ask for help. So I tapped her shoulder and asked her about controversial issues in the medical sphere she would like to see debated or brought in the spotlight. Just one, it was for a journalism project. The girl took her time to think about it then handed me a piece of paper with her answer:

Less than 19% of surgeons in this country are women and the percentage drops considerably if we consider specific specialties and women of color. It is a truth universally acknowledged yet publicly denied that women are still overlooked for surgical positions: the fair sex is emotional, tends to get to involved in the medical cases, not to mention potentially hysterical and suffering of that dangerous 'lack of refrain' so well known (?) to their male colleagues. They make better nurses than doctors and better GP than surgeons. 

That was a promising start. I thanked the girl and wished her good luck with her upcoming exam. Actually, I saw that girl a few days later: she passed her exam with flying colors and was now standing by my side at a rally. We became friends and one night, the first night of our senior years we made a pinky promise: a solemn silly pinky promise not to give up no matter what obstacles we will have to face later in our careers. A solemn silly pinky promise to be one day the best journalist and best doctor we could ever be. For ourselves and the others out there.

Well, I'm glad and proud to announce that about fifteen years later, that mystery girl has become the youngest Head of Neurosurgeon in the history of Massachusetts. Daughter of an archeology professor and another legend in the surgical field, Eloise Emery, the Haitian born cardio surgeon who successfully performed the first domino heart transplant on pediatric patients at Mount Sinai Hospital, NY, in 1989, Harper Emery is already exceeding any reasonable expectation. Colleagues describe her as 'headstrong, devoted and passionate, a doctor who would go above and beyond for her patients' while prestigious medical magazines crowned her 'the most brilliant neurosurgeon of her generation”.

At first, I thought that I accepted to write this article because I know Harper Emery and I value and respect her dearly both as a friend and a professional. But that is not completely true.

I accepted to write this article because I know Harper Emery and I know that she will always keep her promise. She already did.

Good luck, Dr. Emery!

Author: Ellen Thompson

Aurora swallowed down the lump threatening to form in her throat: that was the aunt she knew and looked up to basically her whole life. An aunt she thought irremediably lost...but maybe she was wrong, after all. As that realization crossed her mind, her phone beeped. It was a message from...Dr. Trihn? It was a selfie of her new flatmates waiting for her at the cafeteria. They had already bought her a cappuccino and a saved her half donut. Oh right, 'roomies breakfast', she had almost forgotten. She cautiously placed the framed article on her aunt's desk and was about to exit the room when she almost bumped into Harper coming back to her office.

"Gotta roll?" she asked.

"Hm yeah. The new roomies want to grab a coffee together at the cafeteria...I suspect, no I'm afraid that is some kind of a 'shining happy people' ritual" Aurora sighed, hanging her head.

Her aunt chuckled at her reaction to a friendly gesture.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as it sounds." she teased then smiled. "Have fun, Rory!"

The Emery girl nodded, even though she wasn't fully convinced, and picked a set of keys out of her pocket.

"Oh here's the keys and...Aunt Harper? You should hang that article to the wall"

Dr. Emery threw her a quizzical look then joked:

"Because it was written by Ellen? It would certainly give me celebrity points to impress the poor souls visit-"

"No, Auntie, you got it all wrong. Hang it to inspire yourself"

Aurora flashed her a quick confident smile and left the room headed to the cafeteria as Harper met once again the fierce joyful gaze of her younger self smiling back at her behind the framed glass.

[choicesatnight]

Lie to me

Title: Lie to me

Pairing: James Ashton x Vivian (MC)

Rating: NSFW n stuff…

Word count: 2,480 words

My disclaimer: This character is owned by PB, I just enjoy some elaboration. I really love James Ashton and I love Choices fanfics, especially nasty ass stuff but there isn’t much featuring my original bae, James Ashton from The Freshman series

So, I decided to put my amateur ass talent to work and write with James being the *star of the story*

A/N: * is a separator due to scene change, use of Daddy. My pc is broken. This is my first time posting from my phone (a full story). Don't judge me too harshly lol.

[[MORE]]

"Make a right into the lot at the next light"

"Viv, is this the ONLY place that had formula?"

"The kind we give to Logan, yes. You know your parents will give him any formula but that ain't gonna work"

0he makes a right into the lot and cruises while looking for a place to park.

"Okay, why does he need to have this one?"

He passes a few empty spots while mumbling "can't park there" under his breath.

"Babe. Pay attention to our baby's diet. This formula is the next best to breast milk which I'm not producing so he needs it and why don't you just park!?"

"We need to park in the shade or else the leather upholstery will burn us."

"But do you have to park in the next continent?"

"Your body will thank me when we return to the car and it's cool "

"But will my legs thank you for the marathon I gotta run to get to the entrance of the store?"

He parks in front of another store.

"Right in front of the store and in the shade. Perfect."

"This is not the store, sweetie. It's one store over"

"Oh. Well, the walk isn't bad Mrs. Ashton, I'll carry you." Before she can protest, he swoops her up carrying her bridal style "When we get our honeymoon, this will lead to the bed."

"IF you can resist me that long." She leans to kiss him and he sets her down once they've made it into the store.

She grabs a cart, "Okay. Aisle 14."

"Do we need anything else?"

"Well, you ate all the mandarin oranges so why don't you go grab some while I get Logan's formula? Meet me at check out seven."

"Okay." James walks off to produce while Vivian goes to aisle 14. She claims every bit of Logan's formula before heading to the checkout where James is already standing.

"Damn baby, did you clean out the supply?" James jokes when seeing all the cans of formula in the cart.

"Actually, yes. Are we going to your parents or the real estate thing first?"

"We're going to see a house. Then we'll drop the formula to my parents.'

"Okay. There were only 30 cans of formula, so I got em all "

"Your total is 812.00"

"Anything for my son" as he hands the cashier his card. He pays and they walk back to the car.

**

"This place is so nice James."

"You like it?"

"Oh my gosh, babe. It's perfect. It's so spacious.”

"Good. I already bought it. I just needed you to look at it."

"This is our house!? I love you so much. How'd you know I would like it?"

"I love you too and I know my wife."

She looks around, "Where’s the agent?"

"She doesn't need to be here." He dangles a key from his hand, "I have a key."

"Is that so?" She removes her jacket, placing it along with her purse on a table as she walks toward him.

"You know your wife, huh? What does your wife want now?"

"She wants the kind of kiss she can only get from her husband." He doesn't have to pull her too much closer before his lips meet hers turning into a deeper kiss.

"Okay. That was a good kiss. What else does your wife want?"

He picks her up, "She wants to be carried to this table. She wants less talk and more action." He climbs on top of her on the table and leans to kiss her stomach up as he removes her dress.

"Your wife likes this..."

"Told you, I know my wife." He loosens the hinges of her bra and throws it over before he uses his tongue to awaken her nipple. Circling the areola until it stiffens then licking it up and down over and over while rubbing the other nipple.

"That feels so good, babe" she moans as he closes his mouth to suck her nipple getting her to moan louder. She attempts to get his pants off but his tongue feels so good on her nipple, she lacks the strength and focus it takes to unbutton them. Realizing what she's trying to do, he undoes his pants when switching nipples. This time he nibbles gently, letting her feel his teeth softly. Teasing her nipple, leaving her begging to be bitten.

"Daddy, please. No teasing." He starts to lick her nipple while reaching to remove her panties. Vivian never fails to wear a dress, making it easier for him to reach her core. He sticks a finger in her while continuing to lick her nipple.

"What do you want Daddy to do?" He removes his finger from her pussy to put it in his mouth "Taste you?" He knows exactly what she wants him to do but she loses her thought when he does that. "Anything, babe, anything. " he only smiles and returns to her nipple. He may have confused her but he still knows she wants her nipple bitten. Once he bites down, she screams calling out to him "DADDY" and she instinctively arches her back, smashing her tit to smother his face. He takes that moment to smash her breasts together as her back settles down to the table, he puts both nipples in his mouth at once. Sucking on them intensely,

"Babe." She only wants to moan. He has to know how amazing this feels, though she speaks up. "Babe, I'm gonna cum just from this." He's pleased to hear this and bites dollwn on both nipples as she moans his name. Already had removed her panties, James gets off the table pulling her to the edge and pushing her legs up. On his knees in front of the table, he licks her lips. "Mmmm you're definitely ready for me." He licks again, tongue touching her clit. "Your pussy is so wet for Daddy." He inserts a finger while maneuvering his tongue all over pussy "So perfect." He licks her up and down, before kissing her slit inserting a little more tongue each time. He stands up completely bottomless. "Another part of me misses the warmth of being inside of you." His dick is hard, pointed exactly where it needs to be and he wastes no more time pushing himself into her.

"Feels like home. This is the pussy I need."

"Daddy it's yours. Forever. Just fuck me."

He starts thrusting and she starts moaning.

"Yes! Yes! This is the dick I need James don't stop!" It's the first time they've had intercourse since they've been apart and James wants her permanently smiling.

He slows down his stroke, thrusting at a medium speed allowing her to feel every entrance and exit.

"Daddy, I'm gonna cum"

He starts thrusting faster

"Me too. Whose pussy is this?"

"Daddy it's yours."

He thrust with more powerful momentum as if his pelvis is smacking against hers.

"I don't believe you. Tell me again."

"DADDY THIS PUSSY IS YOURS" she screams and while still inside her, he leans to kiss her lips.

"That was worth the wait babe."

"We still have a honeymoon to have. Imagine sex then." He backs out of her and helps her off the table

"I needed your pussy. Damn you're amazing."

"You never had sex with Comfort?"

It's the only time Vivian has ever called Comfort by name

"Baby don't talk about that girl. Let's get dressed so we can get to my parents."

"Okay..."

**

Ppp

"This is a lot of formula." Mrs. Ashton looks at the cans as James stacks them in the cabinet.

"I know it looks like a lot but it's all he's eating right now. This brand is hard to come by so we purchased every can available. "

"Okay. I understand. Are you two ready for trial tomorrow?"

"I think so. Its the day of defense so it should go pretty smoothly." After spending time with Vivian and Logan, Mr. Ashton enters the kitchen

"Vivian says you bought a house?"

"Yes. Three bedrooms in Lakewood. "

"What happened to the home in Palos Verdes?"

James still hasn't told his parents that he and Vivian ever broke up and he has no intention on doing so.

"Someone else got to it before us."

"Really? Wasn't that house somewhere around a million dollars?" His father doesn't believe him.

"Darling, if James says it wasn't available then it wasn't available. " his mother speaks up.

"Thanks, mom. Excuse me while I go see my son and wife. "

James walks into Logan's room where Vivian sits in a rocking chair holding him.

"Is he awake?"

"Just for his dad", she hands him to James.

James lowers his voice to a near whisper

"Hey, little buddy." He cradles Logan, lightly bouncing while holding him. "This is your dad. I just wanted to say Goodnight okay? I love you " he places Logan in the bassinet and looks to Vivian.

"We gotta go, baby. We need to get to sleep."

"Oh yeah...the trial." She takes a deep sigh "alright " they tell James parents goodbye and leave

**

THE PEOPLE V. BLACK MAMBA DAY 3

THE DEFENSE

The second hour of court

...

"Your honor I'd like to call our professional veterinarian to the stand. Dr. Moya Aven"

Dr. Aven walks to the stand and after being sworn in, takes a seat.

"Dr. Aven, how does someone get in possession of Black Mamba venom"?"

"Oh, you most certainly have to work in the field."

"What field are you referring to?"

"Various. You could be a veterinarian such as myself or even Ummm what do they call it? A snake milker or something "

"A veterinarian or a snake milker?"

"Yes"

"Is there any other way to obtain the venom"

"Sure if you're brave enough to fly to Africa and collect the venom directly from the snake."

"Are there any back Mambas here?"

"In our county? Oh, no. Not even in our state. You know what, not even in our country!"

"Dr. Aven, do you recognize Mrs. Ashton as a client or otherwise?"

"No"

"No further questions your honor"

Michael returns to his table beside Vivian when the judge speaks up

"Does the prosecution wish to question the witness?"

"Yes, your honor" the prosecutor stands in front of the doctor.

"Dr. Aven, do you have Black mamba venom at your practice?"

"Given the liberty of the case, should I answer this question, your honor?"

"Yes, you may proceed to answer " the judge informs her.

"Technically yes. The venom of the snake is always a part of the anti-venom. I have anti-venom. "

"Do you have pure venom?"

"No."

"Thank you, Dr. Aven. No further questions. "

Michael steps forward again.

"Your honor I call my final witness to the stand, Vivian Ashton." The people of the court murmur causing the judge to hit his gavel "Order in the court. " Vivian is sworn in.

"Mrs. Ashton, did you poison Reyna Mercado?"

"No"

"But she was poisoned the day you took her out?"

"Yes. The barista on staff that day was fired for using non-coffee ingredients but he hasn't been investigated at all."

"Did you witness her death?"

"Yes, and I stayed with her until she was officially pronounced. "

"How long until the police questioned you?"

"The next day"

"What happened?"

"They found an atomizer in my purse. They called it an empty vial of poison and deemed me guilty. My husband paid my bail."

"Okay. Do you have any pets?"

"No."

"Have you ever had a pet?"

"No"

"Thank you, Mrs. Ashton, no further questions though I'm sure prosecution has some questions.

"Prosecution?" the judge looks in their direction.

"Yes. Yes. Mrs. Ashton. I understand your mention of the barista. But why is Reyna the only one who died?"

"Objection your honor. The defendant would have to be a medical professional to answer that question.

"Objection sustained. Next question. "

"Mrs. Ashton, why were you always seen in the area when your husband was at the cafe with someone else?"

"We were living separately at the time though not far from one another. We still lived in the same neighborhood. It was merely a coincidence. "

"And your behavior toward Ms. Greene?"

James' fists clench and brows furrow, hoping Vivian will not respond sarcastically as she usually does about Comfort.

"I have no excuse for it. I don't know her well enough to have an opinion about her.

"Okay Mrs. Ashton, no further questions."

"Okay. Let's get to closing arguments.

Michael stands forward addressing the jury,

"People of the jury, the death of Reyna Mercado was tragic and is a great loss, the proper way to ease her loved ones and avenge her murder is to convict the right person. The fact is that Reyna was poisoned with black mamba venom. A deadly snake that isn't even available in the U.S. why would Mrs. Ashton, a mother, wife and new homeowner risk her life in flying to Africa to get this venom? She wouldn't. Use your common sense. Please do not convict. Defense rests." Michael takes his seat and the court remains silent as the prosecutor calls attention to himself,

"Jury. All you have to do is use your logic. The defendant has no alibi. She watched the girl die because she's the one who killed her. She mentioned the barista who got fired but she didn't mention that no one else died. Only Reyna. As I stated before, Ms. Mercado was good friends with Mr. Ashton and she wrongfully assumed she had a friend in Mrs. Ashton. Please don't let her death be in vain by convicting Vivian Ashton of murder Prosecution rest."

"Great. Two solid arguments. I'll give the jury time to deliberate and we can get outta here.”

10 minutes later

“We have a verdict.”)

The judge looks pleasantly surprised "That quick!? Okay. Let's hear it."

The foreman stands.

"In the case of the people versus the black mamba, We the jury find the defendant Vivian Ashton not guilty on all counts."

The court is the noisiest it's been the whole trial. The judge bangs his gavel to call order in the court.

"Mrs. Ashton, go home and raise that baby with your husband. Be a family and don't end up back in court. Court is adjourned"

Michael goes to shake the hand of the prosecutor, but the prosecutor rushes out. Comfort yells, "The jury got it wrong. You're married to a murderer. " and leaves without waiting for a response. "Michael! You did it! And babe! I'm free!"

"Of course we did it. I'm good at my job." Michael confidently boasts as James wraps his arms around her "I never understood why you were so worried. You're innocent."

“SO innocent!” Vivian smiles as she grabs James hand.

Teeny Tiny Tag List:

@zigortega4life

@littlecrookedheart

[seddm]

Hello good Dr.! GTG again! Thanks for your answer! But that was the whole point of what was I trying to say: they had plenty of time and eps to make something out of S3 and the proper set up of LHF and CotBM (in the first where Tom breaks up with Star, giving them both a real reason to be sad not just that mess that was STH and, in the second, where they both questions their feelings for each other and see that the Moon didn't do jakcshit, and start to think out the whys and what not, [1/6]

as I told early). Just read something on cressiever that I do agree that I do agree. Just imagine with, in a imaginary scenario: Star, quetioning her feelings for Marco, talks with Ponyhead, Janna and even Kelly about her feelings and how she fear of messing thing up (a very good throwback from Starcrushed). Marco do the same talking with Eclipsa and even Kelly [2/6](again, a good throwback of LLB, w/o the Kellco bullshit - no hate intented, I LOVE KELLY, and if Starco was never even teased as the main couple from the start of the first ep and Star was ment to be with someone else with proper build up, Kellco would be a strong 2nd bet along side with Jarco. But Kellco was literal dog bollocks to happen and break off screen w/o even explaining why!!). See? Already a very different scenery for the rest of the season, making a very plausible explanation [3/6]of why they would not get together immediately ans D/C and having htem facing the consequences of their actions, hell even giving the chance to show how Tom would be better of by himself and how he forgives Marco and Star for kissing on the Booth. I do agree with JolleiQ that I can read very good fanfics that are way better written and created by fans than a team of so called "professional writers" that work on a Empire that will conquer the whole world some day and can pull this simple [4/6]shit out that I've made all willy nilly and sleepy as I write this, w/o even needing to touch S3!! As I said before, you my good Dr. have a perfect and valid point, but the writers and Daron are responsable for this mess that is S4, with or w/o Disney cutting of SVTFOE from the paycheck. They had plenty of time to make something way better than what they showed us, after 3 seasons of (again, IMHO) perfect interactions of the characters along side plot related events. [5/6]Again, sorry for the usual giant text (hence my nickname for us haha), and thanks for always being pacient with me! As always I would love to hear you take Dr. Mario! Stay awesome and have a good day/afternoon/night!! [6/6] 

(thanks for the kind words, as usual) Yeah I get what you mean, none of what I said was meant to excuse the show from an apparent lack of proper planning that lead to early S4 being used to write themselves out of a corner, rather than to keep going linearly from where S3 left us. Still, I’m trying to be as objective and humble as possible, and that’s exactly why I have to recognize that “writing a better fanfiction” taking on the season in a different way is much, much different than making 37 different stories, most of which 11 minutes long, to fill the season while juggling a number of limits and requirements for each individual segment. Like, that thing you said about Star and Marco talking about their feelings explicitly. In a TV show, especially one as non subtle as SVTFOE is, such a level of direct exposition about feelings would necessarily have to lead to a big change in the status quo: it could happen in Starcrushed because that was a season finale with a huge final cliffhanger, but having it at the beginning of a season would have made it nigh impossible not to have huge Starco developments, either positive or negative, happen in the very same episode. Think about Curse of the Blood Moon: the episode could go so hard with Starco in its first half, with the cereals and the blushing and all that, just because they were then going to “erase” it for most of the second half of the season before the end. Huge build up and exposition = huge changes. Having Star pour her heart out about Marco to her friends just for no change to happen for a substantial amount of time could work in a fanfiction, but its not doable in a show structured like SVTFOE - the contents of the episodes have to be built around the rules of the game, and this inevitably brings several limitations with it. Which, again, doesn’t equal to “they couldn’t have done things differently” at all, no, all I’m saying is that if we take all these elements into consideration it becomes hard to simply split up Tomstar earlier while still delaying Starco and having some meaningful build up with it over the season while not having the climax of their relationship happen before the finale!

[holmesoverture]

The Christmas Party - Chapter 3

Yes hello I have been very lazy about posting my fanfic but here is chapter three wheeeee

First Chapter Previous Chapter More info on my fics in general

Warnings: I don’t think there are any for this chapter!

With Sir Gideon’s assistance I laid the girl upon the sofa in the conservatory adjoining the drawing-room.  It was a small round enclosure with large curtained windows in place of walls and a vaulted glass ceiling.  A little pool, surrounded by tiles and all manner of pot plants and small trees, served as the room’s centrepiece.  I imagined it would look radiant by day, with sunlight sparkling in the water and shining upon the exotic foliage.  As Sir Gideon retreated to the dining-room, closing the doors behind him to grant us a measure of privacy, I began unlacing the girl’s stays.  Whatever was the matter, it could only be helped by unrestricted breathing.

To say that she awoke the moment the doors were shut is inadequate to convey the quickness of her revival.  She pushed herself upright with such vigour that I was compelled to place a hand upon her shoulder to prevent further and potentially injurious movement.  Her gaze was keen and bright, which I interpreted as a heartening sign of recovery rather than suspicious.

“Please lie still, Miss,” said I.  “You swooned just now, in the dining-room.  If you’ll allow me to examine you, I’d very much like to make sure this is not a symptom of something more serious.”

“While your concern is appreciated, I assure you that I am in perfect health.”

“Holmes!”

“Yes.”

He left me sputtering and stammering upon the sofa to study his reflection in one of the windows.  “Ah, good, you have not ruined my face,” he said.  “Most of my cosmetics are at home, and having to perform anything more than minor repair work would be difficult.”

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” I said with what I thought was great restraint.

“I am on the hunt for a most elusive prey, and disguises are an integral part of my work.  They allow me both to enter places where I would be unwelcome or conspicuous and to extract information from those who might otherwise be unwilling to provide it. By taking on the role of a parlour-maid, I hope to thwart the fulfillment of a most reprehensible crime.”

I pondered this a moment.  “Do those clothes make you uncomfortable?”

“In a physical or a metaphysical sense?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“I prefer my regular clothes but there is nothing very disagreeable about what I am wearing now, so long as it does not prompt you to do something as utterly ridiculous as refer to me as Miss Holmes.”

“How does fainting fit into your grand scheme?”

“It does not.  I saw you were in distress and thought a diversion, particularly one which would enable you to fall back upon a familiar routine such as taking charge of a patient, might help you to recover.  And now see, the colour has returned to your face and you are quite yourself again, are you not?”

I grudgingly admitted it was so.  I checked my pulse, fingers clammy against the cold skin of my wrist.  It was still fast, but this could be attributed to the shock of discovery.

“Now that your nerves have been restored, I believe we have dallied long enough.  If you would be good enough to lace me back up, I can return to my work and you can return to your absurd holiday celebration.”

He presented his back to me, as though my assistance was a foregone conclusion.  It was, of course, though I was determined to at least make my displeasure known to him, even if it would make no difference in his mind.

“I could write a book about the detriments of corsets,” I said.

“And how many of these detriments present themselves after a single evening?”

“None serious.”

“Then stop grousing and pull harder.  There, that’s better.”

“I would like to state for the record that I do not fancy becoming one-half of the next Boulton and Park.”

“Again you worry for nothing.  They weren’t even convicted.”

“Won’t you at least tell me what it is you’re working on?”

“There’s no time for that now.  Your host and fellow roisterers will grow concerned if they do not receive word from us soon.  I will grant you a bit of advice, however: do not become too attached to Miss Philomena Hibbert.  Unless one is a snake, she is not to be trusted.”

With that final cryptic declaration, he brushed the dirt from his skirt and opened the door to the dining-room.  In an instant my friend Holmes disappeared, supplanted by a timid servant eager to apologise for her failure.

“Don’t give it another thought, Miss Page,” said Sir Gideon.  “Will you be able to return to your work?”

“Oh yes, sir.  I am very well now.”

Sir Gideon looked to me for confirmation, which I gave readily, before ‘Miss Page’ was permitted to continue her duties.  Holmes left straightaway for the kitchen and, along with the other parlour-maid, delivered plum pudding to the sideboard and a bottle of Madeira to Sir Gideon.

“Miss Page does look much improved, doesn’t she?” said Miss Linwood once the maids had left us to our meals.

“I suppose so,” Philomena HIbbert replied.  “I asked the agency to send parlour-maids who had experience in serving at dinner parties.  I don’t consider swooning in the middle of dinner to be the hallmark of a professional.”

“I’m sure she did not intend to fall ill,” said I, stumbling over the pronoun.  “And after all, I very much doubt if even the most professional of parlour-maids is accustomed to working in a house where a corpse is the primary topic of discussion.”

I could see she was not assuaged, but she made an effort to appear she was, either for my sake or for the sake of maintaining a jovial atmosphere, and soon enough the conversation turned to more festive topics. Once the table was cleared the real maid brought us a shallow bowl of brandy and raisins and we had ourselves a lively game of snapdragon.  Miss Hibbert won while I fared worst of all, though I would like to believe that my poor performance was the result of a lack of concentration rather than a lack of skill. Holmes’ unexpected appearance and abstruse statements had chased all thoughts of the holiday and the mummy from my mind.  What danger could a Christmas party possibly present, aside from various forms of gluttony? Was the danger such that I should prepare myself to protect the other guests?  Protect them from what, or from whom?  Not Miss Hibbert, surely?  She had little patience for slip-ups but she could not be as treacherous as Holmes had implied.

I was in the process of handing Miss Linwood my handkerchief for the crying of forfeits and rather hoping I would be asked to kiss the ladies when we were interrupted by a loud thump from the parlour.  The party froze and fell silent.  A second thump caused Sir Gideon to excuse himself and hurry toward the source of the strange sounds.  I allowed myself a brief glance at Miss Hibbert.  I was not surprised to see her round face pinched with displeasure. Beside her Rodrick Angues frowned, black eyebrows knitting together and then abruptly rising when Sir Gideon’s cry reached our ears.

We rushed into the parlour to find Holmes and the parlour-maid on the floor, wrestling for control of the Egyptian flint knife that was clenched in her fist and held close to Holmes’ throat.  In a terrific display of desperate strength Holmes pushed away the knife before I could intervene, sending it clattering into the wall just to my right.  The maid scrambled for it but Holmes grabbed her hair and pulled until it all came off in his hand, revealing the short masculine cut beneath.  The girl covered her head with her hands, turning away from our startled faces, but Holmes held her fast and rubbed furiously at her face with his forearm.

“Don’t be shy, Miss Myers,” said he.  “A good parlour-maid should never scorn her master!”

Holmes twisted her round towards us, revealing the reddened face, still smudged with make-up, of an angry young man with large eyes and the suggestion of light stubble along the jaw.

“Harvey!” cried Sir Gideon.  “What is the meaning of this?”

Harvey Hibbert remained sullenly silent, although the violent flush upon his cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of his chest made me think his silence was due at least in part to corset-induced dyspnea.

“You shall find a portion of the answer to your question in that satchel,” Holmes said, and he too sounded short of breath as he indicated a black bag lying some small distance from where he and Harvey sat.  I retrieved and examined it, finding within some half a dozen items that had until recently lined Sir Gideon’s shelves, including the green ushabti Miss Hibbert had so passionately described to me.

“The remainder of the answer,” Holmes continued, “stands to your left and to your right.”

He indicated Philomena Hibbert and Rodrick Angues in turn.  Sir Gideon, pale and trembling, rounded on my friend.

“Really, Mr Holmes, this is the absolute limit!” he said.  “Was it not enough that you brought humiliation and scandal upon this family once before?  Why have you come here?”

“I should be happy to explain the entire affair in as much detail as you like.  I only ask that you first allow me to catch my breath, or you will yet again have an unconscious parlour-maid on your hands.  Watson, do keep your eye upon this disreputable trio until my return.”

The both of us breathed much easier after some minutes, and he took his place at the head of the table like a conductor preparing to take control of his orchestra.  The rest of the party regained their seats at the dining table in anticipation of what had suddenly supplanted conventional party games as the evening’s climax.  Sir Gideon stayed on his feet, still quivering with furious indignation, as Holmes began his narrative.

*

Historical Notes!

Pot plants – Brit speak for “potted plants.”  My American readers can stop giggling now.

Boulton and Park – Ernest “Stella” Boulton and Frederick “Fanny” Park were known for attending (and getting thrown out of) London theaters while wearing women’s clothing and/or cosmetics. They were arrested in 1871, but since crossdressing wasn’t illegal and nobody could prove they were having sex (which was illegal), they weren’t convicted of anything.

Snapdragon – A popular Victorian party game that I absolutely do not recommend trying at home.  It is played by pouring brandy into a large bowl, filling the bowl with raisins, lighting the whole mess on fire, and then using your bare hands to grab as many raisins as you can from the bowl.  (The bowl, I might remind you, is on fire.)

Crying the forfeits – After each party game, the loser would give a previously chosen ‘collector’ a small item of theirs, e.g. a handkerchief.  Once a certain number of items were collected, each of the losers had to perform a forfeit.  The forfeit could be something silly, like pretending to be a pig, or some sort of challenge, like…

Kiss the ladies – A kind of forfeit.  A losing gentleman was blindfolded and then instructed to go around the room kissing the ladies.  After he was blindfolded, however, everyone moved their chairs around, so the gentleman couldn’t tell if the chair that had a lady in it a moment ago still did or if a gentleman had taken her place.  Basically Watson just wants an excuse to kiss some dudes.

[bbwoulfc]

Sorry for answering this one late, anon.  I missed it in my asked box.

DQ (no, not the blizzard and ice cream food chain lol) and SAMG are different animation studios that are used to assist in making the episodes for Miraculous.  Like many studios, whether it be film or games, many studios partner and/or co-work with other studios to produce product for the masses that are the audience. 

So for ZAG studios, they use DQ, housed in India, and SAMG, housed in South Korea, to help produce the episodes.  However, it doesn’t mean every studio produces quality work.  Usually, if one focuses hard enough, you’ll be able to pick out the difference fairly easy on which studio did what.  It’s why you’ll also see people complain and whine (no shocker there, though more on other things) about the appearance and look of an episode.  You’ll hear some say how an episode looked weird and bad quality wise, while with another episode the fandom will choo and awe over how beautiful quality wise an episode is.  

DQ is, unfortunately, the studio that has been producing the bad and animation cut episodes like Captain Hardrock and many others that I don’t care to name.  Where SAMG produces the really nice quality looking episodes such as the Origins, Collector, Heroes Day.

Now, as an animator myself and knowing some things about the industry, I hate badmouthing studios, but I try to make it more as a way of critiquing.  And as for that, I will start by saying I’m not a fan of DQ and the quality that they create for the Miraculous episodes.  In my professional opinion, I have a hard time understanding how one studio that works with another studio can’t create the same quality work.  But at the same time, I know it depends on budget and how much money a studio has and the equipment they possess.  However, that doesn’t excuse the lack of good animation and facial animation.  If you stare long enough in a DQ episode, you’ll notice jerkiness in the animation and that the lighting is a little off, sometimes making the quality look a little flat.  If they focused more time on those three things, I feel confident that they could match the quality that SAMG produces.  

But understand, I’m not comparing the studios.  I’m simply stating that if DQ focused more on certain areas, the quality could be better and similar to the quality standards that SAMG produces.

It’s why a lot of people in the fandom tend to always say and shout out to Thomas and Jeremy to use SAMG more because of the better quality.  However, what a lot of the fandom and other fandoms in general, don’t understand is that it’s not the creator, Jeremy, or at times, usually a good chance of it, the studio itself has no say in who they use.  This goes towards writing and other departments of the animation pipeline. There is a good large amount that none of them in those positions can do.  The higher ups, the executives of the studio are usually the ones that call the shots on what needs to be and what to do.  If I recall correctly, ZAG studios uses Method, the head hanco that pays to promote,etc. for Miraculous. What they say, and any other executives in a business, say goes.

So even if Thomas and Jeremy, and other studio team members wish to mainly use SAMG to produce better quality work, they couldn’t because it’s Method that has the final say.  They’re the ones with the money.  And like some people in the high position, they’ll do whatever if it means saving money.  So that’s why we have DQ and SAMG.  DQ is a cheaper studio to pay than SAMG.  Some people in the ML fandom would be surprised, but not a lot tend to do research or take a step back and think how a business actually runs.  Even though this isn’t about the studios DQ and SAMG, this also goes towards the writing process that I’ve been seeing harshly thrown around.

You honestly think, Thomas and his writing team, are writing horrible, inconsistent episodes? No! Of course they’re not.  Thomas has the entire story that you as the audience don’t know.  You really think a creator like Thomas, and a creator in general would be that inconsistent? No.  If Thomas had more freedom to do what he envisioned and had a great studio like SAMG to create the great quality episodes, I’m pretty damn sure the fandom would be getting a very nice show that would shut down the constant whining and badmouthing. But if some people in the fandom took a step back, and learned, Thomas, even if he’s the creator, doesn’t get all the freedom like people think.  If he were able to, he would give the best damn show I’m very positive we’d ever see from what we have now.  But I’m not saying what we have now is horrible. I think Thomas and his team is doing a bad ass job.  I don’t think the writing is bad writing.  Sure, there may be a little consistency issues in places, but that’s what Thomas and his team as writers have to do when you have executives and bosses breathing down your neck and pushing for product completeness in a fast pace.  They have to shorten areas in a episode or tell the episode differently cause they can’t do it consistently.  

Method, and like many higher ups in other companies, what they want is a show where anyone can hop in without needing to worry about heavy plot.  It happens, it’s not uncommon.  That’s why you may see this inconsistency to please what their bosses want and overall what they are told to do. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t plot.  If those who complain actually opened their minds a bit they’ll see the plot that many episodes have.  But if all you do is focus on certain things, you’re going to miss what’s important.  So no, it’s not bad writing. The writers have to design it where the younger audience, the kids, can hop in anytime.  

So when I see people compliment a ML fandom member, “they should hire you to write the show cause you’re better” on a fanfic or any writing on Ao3 and Tumblr, it frustrates me and pisses me off because no shit you think it’s better. The fan as all freedom to do what they want that the writing team doesn’t have the pleasure like you.  But just because you wrote something “better” doesn’t make you better as the writers for the show.  You’re only better cause you have the freedom. But you cannot be compared to the writers of the show because you don’t know the characters as well as the creator and writers of the show.

Again, this goes back to the studios that ZAG uses.  Method wants DQ cause they’re cheaper, but we still use SAMG to help because that’s what the studio wants. We don’t know how long SAMG will be in the picture.  Ive heard different things but I don’t know if any are true, but there could be a chance down the road where Method might stop using SAMG cause it’s too expensive.  But that’s how businesses and studios work.  It’s not the creator or anybody’s fault but the people who hold the money.  If we keep supporting the show and all, we might be able to keep SAMG throughout the entire series.  But it requires support.  Again, I don’t know if they are rumors or not, but that means we need to keep supporting the creator, the studio, and give them encouragement rather belittle them cause fandom complains that they’re writing is wrong, the episode sucked cause it looked horrible, etc. That will never help for change and better stuff.

I will end this explanation here.  There’s many things I could talk about.  But hopefully this helped, Anon, about who DQ and SAMG are and if you or any other peep who has a question or a thought they want to share, just send an ask.  I’ll be here. Thanks for the ask anon. 

[byastrodust]

My honest to god opinion about Larry

I do realize that this is a devastating time for the fandom, yet certain reactions to Félicité’s passing got me thinking. ((This post has nothing to do with that but I might sum up my thoughts on that topic later)).

Let me start with a couple of disclaimers before anyone comes at my throat.

- I’m 23 years old, I’d like to believe I’m a grown ass adult and I rarely concern myself with problems that are not actually mine (I simply don’t have the time ok)

- I DO read (or occasionally write) Larry fanfic for ONE reason: the idea of them as a couple, their dynamic is interesting and appealing and it had a wide audinece. AKA I enjoy the literature.

- there was a time when I was a firm believer of ‘Larry’ but that’s gone now

- also I’m not trying to spread hate, it’s all just my opinion which I’m just as entitled to as you are to yours. If you don’t think the way I do I respect that and we’ll agree to disagree. OK? Cool?

Here’s the TEA ::

1. Larry? Old news.

I don’t think that Harry and Louis are a couple. Tbh I don’t think they’re really friendly anymore even. Why? Because their LACK OF INTERACTION. And for those who will have excuses here’s how I see it. Niall/Harry, Niall/Louis, Liam/Louis had no problem with interacting, going to each other’s shows etc. But all H&L did was awkwardly acknowledge each other’s existence and solo carrier, usually when they’re asked. Yeah they were nice, because neither of them are assholes, but that’s about it. Also, they’re no longer tied to their old management so I highly doubt their lack of interaction comes from a management standpoint. It’s simply not logical. (Also if you really think about it, fans lose their shits when H&L and even mentioned in the same context, what idiot of a management team would not utilize that free promo if they were in fact a couple/friends. This aspect never made sense to me. Let’s be real, show biz is finally(?) realizing that they can market ‘gay’ and it sells. Again, I could write a whole post on that.) So, naturally, their lack of interaction to me clearly indicates that they are not in close proximity to each other. Are they both in London? So am I and millions of other people, it’s simply not substantial enought to count as ecidence.

2. The fandom phenomenon

Is it too late to mention that I’m a psychology major, specializing in fandom mentality and toxic obsessions? Oh well. Here’s my two cents on Larry from a semi(? I’d like to think about myself as a pro but boy I still have years to get there) professional point of view.

Larry shippers are intense, extreme and compulsive. But it’s ok. I’m not here to give anyone that bitter pill of reality and if you want to believe that Larry’s married, living in a cute cottage with a white picket fence, who am I to shatter that picture? Believe it or not, idealization is actually healthy to a certain degree. BUT. The god honest truth is that Larry is a phenomenon created and fueled by obsessive fan behavior and refusal of hard case evidence. I’m sorry to burst a bubble but how many times did they deny Larry? A lot! Even Zayn did in his book (btw who the fuck knew Zayn had a book wow) after cutting all legal ties with 1D. And he was bitter. So if Larry was real, Zayn had the perfect opportunity to expose it. Instead he said that the allegations strained their friendship and it hurt them. Liam said something similar in an Out magazine interview as well (soz I didn’t fact check so feel free to correct me). Why do so many people still believe that Larry is real? Because of the way fans built up their relationship. And here I have to say that I do not exclude the possibility that at some point they might have been more than friends. Boyfriends, fwb, kissed once? Idk. Do I personally believe that any of that happened? No. But it is a possibility. And I see why people would be so hooked on their relationship. But here’s my theory.

You don’t ship Louis and Harry. You ship who you think Louis and Harry are. You ship the idea. Frankly, the fans don’t know them, they only know their public persona, a carefully crafted social construction.

That doesn’t mean that the ‘real’ Harry and the ‘real’ Louis is different from their public persona. It’s more like they’re extentions of each other. Just like you have different personas: who you are with friends, with family, how you behave online or in real life. These personas all build up the personality and they cannot be separated, yet neither is true without the others. (Phew got a little carried away in the shrink bs sorry)

So what fans know is one of their personas (and with celebrities you also have to consider that their public persona is always shaped by the fans’ perception).

In English: fans created Larry and their belief makes it real for them (kinda like in the first season of Supernatural when they hunted a monster that was created by the town’s belief in it)

So for all those reasons, I question the validity of Larry Stylinson. From a completely neutral (well sorta) standpoint it is clear that Louis and Harry are not a couple, but I do see why people want them to be. Honestly, I think this whole thing got a little out of hand and with media outlets like Twitter and Tumblr I doubt it’ll slow down soon. However, the power of the fandom is damn impressive.

And now let me get to why I finally wrote this damn thesis on Larry.

3. What you think is not real

So with Félicité’s passing, the past couple of days I saw people complain about fans taking pictures with Harry on the basis of Larry. Mostly those comments say that fans should respect Harry’s grief and leave him alone. Here’s a couple things to consider (whether or not you believe in Larry)

- Harry is a grown ass adult and if he feels like fans are disrespecting his privacy he will not take pictures with them. It’s his decision and for the love of god don’t treat him like a child that can’t stand up for himself.

- more importantly (and it might hurt, I’m sorry) Harry might not grief Félicité at all. That sounds mean let me explain. Yes, her death is a tragedy, yes it is awful and unjust. But. Unless you had a personal relationship with the person passing it’s not grief, it’s projected sympathy. And that’s all right, it’s natural, and confusing the two is understandable. Here’s a personal example: when my best friend’s mum died I was devastated and sad but I wouldn’t necessarily say I grieved, because I was not in a personal relationship with her. We talked sometimes, we liked each other but that’s it. And I’m not a piece of shit becuase of it. It’s just natural. Same with Harry. I’m pretty damn sure that he feels awful for Fizzy, for Louis, for the situation but that might not be greif. Because it doesn’t affect him personally. So people asking photos of Harry isn’t the same like they’d ask Louis (now that would be outright disrespectful)

Soooooooooooo.

Tbh this is something I wanted to address for a long time but I never had the time or the will to type it. Of course I could be totally wrong, that’s always a possibility. And if you think I’m just talking out of my arse, I respect that.

Actually, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Especially if you believe in Larry.

Please be civil and kind. I’d love to start a conversation.

There are so many more topics I could and would love to address, so I might be back with another lengthy one.

🖤

//footnote: the whole Larry fanfiction thing is a whoooooole another story, but I personally don’t think that shipping and writing/reading fanfiction has anything to do with actually pushing and believing in Larry. A good fanfic I appreciate lol//

[wowheadquarters]

I have a little idea for the 1k followers. As I followed this blog recently, I was wondering about his history. If you feel like it, could do a summary? Like, why did you start it? Your first joy/disappointment. Any thing that we haven't see that you might want to share. Absolutely anything about the blog and you. (If you're comfortable with it of course)

This is a very good idea, lovable anon, I’ll try.

History:

It was 17th November 2015, somewhen in Tuesday afternoon. I don’t remember what exactly sparked the idea of starting this blog, but I can say for certain that it was heavily inspired by the @bleachlists (which is, if you ask me, better humor than canon Bleach). And thus the first list was born.

(I never expected this blog to get famous. Or followers besides bots for that matter. I hoped, maybe, for a little circle of, like, 5 actual readers. I certainly didn’t think I would keep this blog for longer than 4 months. That’s how it is with me usually, I have bursts of inspiration but lack long-term dedication. The fact that this blog is still going is a miracle.)

At first the lists were written in the “chat” style. I had to make up my own prompts, because the two followers or so only hearted the posts but didn’t interact with me at all otherwise. That’s why the activity was very irregular at the time, I was writing when I was inspired and thus a month could pass without a word from me and then boom, three posts in a week. Additionally, I wasn’t writing only lists, but also short stuff, kind of like “Slice of life from Azeroth.” Of these the most famous is Chromie and Dragons and in my opinion the best one and not enough appreciated one is Kel’thuzad’s Heard Of Sylvanas’ Plans.

The first breakthrough came in January 2016 when an anon, who made me happy so much that I called them “lovable” in the list and kept on doing so for all following anons, requested the very first requested list, the Care of Babies list. For a long time this has been the list with the most notes. Now there are too many lists to keep count and Tumblr doesn’t do “the best of your posts,” but still it is one of the most popular posts I have and along with the Chromie and Dragons it still pops up in my notifications. Around April 2016 I had stable enough queue of requested lists to stop making up my own prompts, thus I could completely rely on prompts from followers, most of them from anons.

Another important milestone was August of the same year: First of all, I came up with a posting schedule (Fridays and Mondays, but two months later I understood that was too fast - It ate the prompts faster than they were prompted, and I wasn’t managing it). Then Taedal was added to the lists, at first he was meant as a joke, as I keep reminding him and everyone else, and somehow it happened he stayed here. Additionally, Varian and Vol’jin’s deaths were acknowledged, putting Anduin on the list. Soon after, Garrosh joined in from beyond the veil to annoy Vol’jin in his afterlife.

About this time the blog began to create it’s own lore (and not only the L.O.R.E.), and I even had the (short-spanned) will to mystify people that Taedal is going to get his own expansion. I even had a sideblog dedicated to Taedal (in fact, it was Taedal’s own blog, intentioned as a RP blog but somehow it never…got much traffic) and even a wiki. The wiki still exists! I like to think of this as the Golden Age of HeadQuarters verse, when I even got fanfics on AO3 and a dozen of drawings for this blog even. This blog lives in an alternate universe where there is a new isle west of Pandaria and Garrosh adopted 37 dead children in the afterlife and learned to be a better person (not necessarily the same as good person, but let’s not lose hope).

I don’t remember exactly on what occasion in the 2017 the Interviews were added, but they were the first not-list which were requestable (that is, they weren’t the short filler stuff I used to make before). I think it was to celebrate the first 100 followers but I might be wrong. The first Interview was held with Taedal, by my decision, and ever since then the Interviews went by request every twenty days, moved to every other Wednesday, later as of not-so-recently, every other Tuesday. In the history of the Interviews, there happened to be only one which wasn’t published, because nobody asked any questions. (It was Interview with Kel’thuzad, pt. 3, and I jokingly said that “ when we met, the Archlich thought I used the Interview as an excuse to go out for a date with him and things went awkward” which resulted in this Top N list).

From there things went rather fast. To here actually. As a celebration for 600 followers (or was it 500? Memory fails me) I began writing Top N, sort of as of a filler in between the Interviews, so actually now this blog has moved back to the biweekly posting scheme very close to the one from 2016. Earlier this year (2018), there was a list about attack on not-Theramore, where I made up a character especially for my timeline speculations - because timeline shenanigans, it is a bronze dragon, and because it is representing me, the character is called Authormi. That is a very poor play on the word “author” (because I am the author of this blog) and the “-ormu/ormi” suffix characteristic for the Bronze dragonflight. Coincidentally, it was also the first time I have referred to myself with any sort of name here on this blog (besides the FAQ where is a link to my main blog) and I am using it since.

An important part of the blog is post maintenance when I try to at least twice a month (but if I’m very responsible, then every Friday evening) go thorough the blog, update the Interview, Top N, and L.O.R.E. pages, delete old request asks and so on. However, over the years a good number of not-request asks had piled up in here. They were…not filtered here and the blog seemed messy with them. Which is why Authormi vs. Inbox tag was created and from time to time when too many not-request asks pile here, I dump them into these post as a sort of archive. I admit that it is not, uh… ideal in case you are looking for something specific, but it keeps the blog clean. Well, cleaner.

The most recent new development of the blog was the addition of the Allied Races leaders - Alleria Windrunner for the Void Elves/Ral’dorei, High Exarch Turalyon for the Lightforged, Jaina Proudmoore for Kul Tiras, First Arcanist Thalyssra for the Nightborne Elves/Shal’dorei, Mayla Highmountain for the Highmountain Tauren Tribes, Overlord Geya’rah for the Mag’har Orcs, and Princess Talanji for the Zandalari. The choice of the leaders is taken from the information on the Allied Races from Wowpedia.

Speaking of Wowpedia, it is my primal source, besides personal experience, when it comes to writing the lists. I used to rely on WoWWiki, but, uh… that one turned a bit messy a couple of years ago and I never get around to check on it now. When I don’t know something, I look it up on Wowpedia. If it’s not on Wowpedia, I consider it a Free Real Estate lore wildcard, which means I can bullshit it out as long as it is lore/character consistent. I pride myself on giving the characters (leaders) some actual character, because, now correct me if I am wrong, Blizzard writers confuse character personality for that wind flapping pole. I am not saying that I am writing “good” or “pure” characters. They have faults, they are prejudiced, foolhardy, depressed (in not romantic ways), mean, holding grudges. Some, like Garrosh, Genn or Gallywix, are more straightforward in their flaws than others, but I am pouring a cup of sour traits to everyone here. (What I am saying here is: Be critical when you read your favorite leader’s opinion. They might not be right and/or honest.)

Overview, as of today, Monday 19th November 2018:

Published 174 lists, 24 more in the queue + bunch of requests hanging in the asks among the posts. (Somebody needs to do their maintenance)

Published 25 Interviews, 9 more in the queue + some in the asks too, I think I saw one request or two.

Published 21 Top N lists (most favoured number for N is 10), 0 in the queue.

1009 followers, woooo! I love you all. Except the 1009th one who is a porn bot, you can go fuck yourself. ‘Xcuse me. 1008 followers now!

The blog is 3 years and 2 days old. Happy birthday!

Authormi’s pick of lists to read (besides the one linked):

What they say far too often: Vintage one, so you see what the old style was like.

What do the think of the heroes: Meta one!

Their pick for a movie night: There were no guesses on what movie is a Ayeroth-verse of what Earth-verse. I am proud of some of those titles.

No Orc Invasion: The first timeline speculation, which I really lvoed. If somebody was to write that AU, I’d read it actually.

If they could erase one person from existence: Another timeline speculation. I like making those!

Draw the squad: Maybe you could draw the squad?

Watching Les Misérables: This one was an especially important journey for me, because this list is why I saw the musical in the first place. Later I read the book too (I love the book), got into some Les Mis RP, made some very good friends out of that… Yeah, I owe this one lovable anon who requested it a lot. (More or less, now I am also a professional Valjean RPer, except I don’t get paid for it. Whenever somebody who knows me joins a new RP server and they haven’t got Valjean, they usually ask me. Like… what? How? Why? Why do you all think I am a good Valjean? Why- Never mind, this is a Warcraft blog. Moving on.)

Spell of the Violent Tongue: The first time it has been brought to my attention that I think about the characters in a way a lot fo other people doesn’t, because this list surprised a lot of readers, and by surprised I mean hit into feels so hard they complained to me. I talked about it with my mum later (family support is an important thing for me and mum is fan of Warcraft), and I’ve been told that “I treat the characters maybe a bit too realistically.” PSA for everybody: Warcraft is a story about broken people and violent racism.

Their God Tier: For the people who are fan of Homestuck too. (Homestuck itself is good. The fandom is weird)

Garrosh’s 37 ghost children: By which they became more or less canon on this blog, a regular stuff which is to be counted with.

How do they insult people: The most recent popular post.

Interview with Azshara: My personally favorite thing I have ever written for this blog, as in, I don’t think I am going to peak it.

Interview with Luxien: Because I want to press Taedal’s story and “expansion” to everybody, read the interview with his older evil sister.

Top 10 favorite characters: I suppose you are a bit curious who my faves are, so here you go.

Top 10 changes to the story I would do: By heart I am a storywriter. I give such things a lot of thoughts. But as I’ve mentioned earlier, lack of dedication is… making things hard.

Other cool stuff to check out (maybe?):

Taedal’s expansion wiki, of course. I have a lot of thoughts about that world and story and… I would love to went about it a bit, too.

This very cool fanfic on AO3.

The official portrait of Taedal.

The official portrait of Authormi.

The description of this blog, as taken from my personal blog:

wowheadquarters (WoW HeadQuarters, World of Warcraft Headquarters, WoWHQ) is by far my most popular blog, despite being younger than SNTS. I add new content twice a week, on Tuesday and Friday. I never thought I’d make more than 10 posts in total, but there we go. I admit that the original idea comes from bleachlists, but it has sort of evolved since then. I am trying to keep the blog not contradicting the canon, but some things in the HeadQuartersverse might not always agree with the official lore

Final words from Authormi:

Oh my fucking god, this is really unbelieveable that this thing is still going on. I never expected this blog to live beyond a month. I never thought I’d get more than 20 followers. I have 1000 now? That’s… is that Tumblr-famous? I’ve never had this many followers. Do you all read this? All the stuff? Am I shaping your view on the Warcraft universe? This is too much power for one person to have.

You want to know what’s actually my happiest memory connected to this blog? It was actually some time back (because my memory is a mess, I can’t tell you how far back), I had a really, really stuffed couple of weeks. A lot of to do, but also mentally exhausted, I was in a bad place for a bit there. Usually I am able to kick myself in the ass, sit down and make up the list on the go, even if it is bound to be miserable wreck of text, I write it. Sometimes when I am super done and tired, I write it on Saturday evening and pretend it’s Friday and so far everyone’s been so kind and there’s been no comment to that. But in those two or three weeks I just… couldn’t. Even clinging to this self-made structure was too exhausting. I wasn’t on Tumblr for basically the whole time (my main blog was fuelled by the queue). Sometimes when I am in a good place, I write lists in advance and schedule them, but at that time no such a thing took place, so this blog went silent without announcement and I couldn’t care less. When I finally found it in me to come online, my inbox greeted me with various people who were asking me if I was okay and whether or not I am still alive written in a very worried manner. And you know… reading that helped me a lot at the moment. It was a reminder that somebody here cares for me and cares for what I do and… Yeah, it was a damn motivation to get myself together a bit and write stuff and do some stuff. Since then I’m trying to announce in advance if I think I am not going to make it, and even then I am still trying to write the list as soon as possible when I am fit to.

A story for your amusement on this “write it when possible” note. This summer I was with my 4 younger siblings (my oldest sister, still younger than I, turned 18 last Thursday, the youngest sibling who also happens to be a sister is 4, but I don’t live with all the siblings, blah blah divorced parents blah blah, not related) and dad and grandfather in the beautiful village (or town?) of Au in Austria. I took my old laptop with me (I’ve got a new one recently) which had battery that could live on it’s own for, like 10 minutes. The house we were living in had no wi-fi, but there was a village-wide public wi-fi… which din’t reach the house. The nearest was at the bus stop, but that one was shaky, and the good reliable hotspot was at the park, 10 minutes of walk away from the house. Now, it was nearly Friday and I needed to post the list. So I wrote it int he laptop’s notepad, then turned off its life support, took it and dashed across all of Au to the wi-fi hotspot, formatted the document into a list, and hit post. About 2 minutes later, the laptop died.

I am thinking about making another blog directly meant for the asks, request or not, and those would stay there. What do you all think? Maybe I would lose things there, I am quite capable of it.

I’d love to talk about Taedal and his demons and his entire story a bit more. But I haven’t got, like, a reason to do so. I am sort of insecure in this matter, I sort of have the feeling that nobody really cares for Taedal here. “What are you thinking, a ‘good demon’ OC?” (Ask me about Taedal and his faction and the Broken and Distant Worlds expansion. I have an expansion and half planned in my head.)

There is some kind of an expectation or anticipation in me to have someone from Blizz discovering this blog and some big consequences happening. I am not sure whether I want it to happen or not. I mean, I am a bit… too-critical of their work in attempt to please the crowd here. (It’s easy to search for flaws when you take the good stuff as the norm. You are actually doing a good job, Blizzard, in the terms of game developing and marketing. But there is that one post going around which says that Warcraft lore/story is written by 9 people who cannot talk to each other. In this spirit, I am sure that there are 4 people writing charcter psychological profiles who don’t know of each other’s existence. Your animation is a snack, though.)

Wow. I suck at summaries. This is as brief as it gets.

[l-cupid-l]

harry potter fanfic, tw, suppressing emotions

"hello Mr snape" miss monogall spoke, in an uncharacteristicly happy tone, of which he found quite...unsettling. you see, when monogonall is happy, it means one of two things; she had a devious plot (of which she would never tell) or shes got her hands on chocklate. "good morning monogal." snape stated, not as a greeting but as an acknowledgment, typical of him to be so cold. but...was that true? no. no it wasnt. he said it as a greeting. not a statement, not cold, no, borderline happy! Professor Snape! why, you may ask? well you see...snape has had a...complicated relationship with mogonogal. truth be told, it was a crush. a stupid, childish crush, he has swept under the rug, hiding it from the prying eyes of everyone, including himself, for years. seeing her, usually so serious, happy. downright joyfull! well...hpw could he not be happy himself? "just some dark chocky, you know me" waving her hand, in such a friendly notion, well dnapes heart may or may not have fluttered just the tinyest of bits, whos to say? well, him. he can say. and now, now while his friend -crush- is sat right next to him, snape relises, the rug is awfully lumpy, and itll only get worse unless, of course, he confronts it. but, as per usual, that option is discarded as propostorous by snape, and so, he laughed along with her. as her friend, unready to admit he wants to be something else.

l

a..dairy? snape has a dairy, something unusual, well he hasn't since teen years after all. a peculiar sight indeed. especially to vent, about a crush.

"a crush. what is he; a teenager? no. but what has to be done has to be done," he supposes. he comes to terms with. he admits to his empty sleeping chamber and, even more so, himself. and he accepts it? well...accepts is an overstatement, but he does the best he can, for the sake of his own mental health, right? that's at least what he tells himself. so that she never knows, it never slips, no one finds out. he would rather die. he's...alone. "oh just look at me now, during the day, a wonderful role model; unwavering and unaffected by such trivial matters, at yet here i is, unable to accept my own emotions. what a pathetic excuse of a man. it's just like her-no." he blocks out any memories oh lily, for god for it he allow himself to, well feel, or even think about feelings. a concept that makes him feel nauseous, despite its rationality. clunk. he's dropped a pen. "oh yea, the dairy," whispered, an audible acknowledgment of his situation; he is reminded of its presence, weight in his hand. "might as well" he lies, attempting to soothe his racing, screaming mind, not like anyone but him will see his shame. right? and yet he still feels so...horrible. for being human too. he begins to write, perfect and neat as ever despite the lack of pressure, observers. you cant expect snape to loosen up, can you? even in this moment of humanity? absolutely not. he simply...cant allow himself. his mind is a constricted one, by what? himself of course. cant just...feel. hates, despises, no, loathes the very idea of showing...humanity? unprofessional, he tells himself. anything but perfect, unwavering professor snape. but mononogal knows that's not him. not him? not...true. a lie, farce he keeps up. for his students? yes, but more so...himself.professor mononogal. his one true friend. only one he can trust, truly. wholeheartedly hand his life into their hands and not fear for a moment. 'she...wouldn't be angry...if he was to...no that's idiotic, truly barbaric. to even consider pursuing these juvenile feelings is utterly shameful. no. he is to wait for them to pass, god forgot he peruse them, he hates himself for even thinking it. she...her. so, well, perfect. and yet, human. spitting image of human and yet still so wonderfully professional. the perfect blend. witty and empathetic. something he can only aspire to be, so badly wants to be, but can never let himself. she is to never find out, what if he looses her? she leaves him, or worse, hogwarts? all those poor students, all in distress. these...feelings; he has decided to hide them, this 'crush' no one but him with ever bear the knowledge of. no one. eventually...they'll pass...just like he told himself in these past years. and have they? no. but they will. at least no one will know they exist, even if they don't stop doing so.' the dairy is left blank.

eventually, they do fade. and snape dies, having never learned the art of feeling, or being, well, human.

[pocket-luv101]

for the fanfic prompt list, 31 with Kuro & Mahiru, if that's okay? also i hope things get better for you //hugs

KuroMahi {31: “I’m yours, in everyway you’ll have me”}

"Kuro, check out these flowers!The sign says they're peonies." Mahiru didn't look away from the field offlowers but he knew the exact moment Kuro stood behind him. He didn't look asimpressed as Mahiru was by the elegant flower bed. His expression only changedfrom bored to loving when he looked down at his boyfriend. "These flowersare beautiful. Have you seen anything prettier?"

"Yeah," He answered andknelt next to him. Mahiru thought that he was merely agreeing with him. Inreality, Kuro meant to say he couldn't think of anything more attractive thanMahiru's bright smile. From the way his eyes shined to how his lips curvedwhile he smiled, he was beautiful. At first, Kuro was reluctant to go to theflower park but he was glad he let him drag him along because he could see howhappy their little outing made Mahiru.

He took his sketchbook out of hisbackpack and flipped to a fresh page. Mahiru had to fill the sketchbook for hisart project. He thought that going to Showa Kinen Park would give himinspiration. The trip was also an excuse to go on a date with Kuro. He knewthat Kuro wasn't one to go outside much but he hoped they could enjoy theflowers together. He also made a lunch for them to have a quaint, littlepicnic.

Kuro sat on the grass and pulledMahiru onto his lap. He didn't fight him and only moved to take off hisbackpack so they would be more comfortable. Mahiru leaned back against hisstrong chest and began to sketch the peonies in front of them. Kuro didn't wantto distract him while he worked so he tucked his head beneath his chin andwatched him in silence. With his comforting warmth in his arms and thepeaceful setting, he began to drift off.

He only opened his eyes when he feltMahiru tense in his arms and heard him grumbled. Kuro could tell that he wasbecoming frustrated with his drawing from his expression. He stroked his armand asked, "What's with that face?"

"Oh, Kuro. I thought you wereasleep." Mahiru shifted so he could look up at him. With Kuro's armsaround his waist, he couldn't leave his lap to face him properly. He didn'tmind though. He held up his sketchbook for Kuro to see. "I'm just havingtrouble shading the flowers. I want to make it blend together but I can't makeit look natural."

"You want me to show you a lazyshading technique?" Mahiru had to admit that he was curious and handed himhis sketchbook. He watched his hand move over the page and drew a looseimpression of the peony. Mahiru admired how strong and steady his hands were.Then his jaw dropped when Kuro rubbed his finger over the drawing, smudging thegraphite over the paper.

"What are you doing,Kuro?" He frowned up at him.

"Shading." Kuro answeredhim. "This is a shading technique called smudging. It's easier to blendthe different shades together and the results will be softer. The fancy pantsartists really frown upon smudging as a technique though. I like it becauseit's easier than the other techniques. You can clean up the edges with your eraser like this. It makes youroutline crisper so it'll be an edge rather than a solid outline."

"Wow, this is wonderful, Kuro!You really are talented." Mahiru smiled up at him. His honest complimentmade butterflies flutter in his stomach and he tried to shrug nonchalantly."You're always surprising me."

"It's really nothing. I had topick up something in the centuries I've been alive." Kuro handed thesketchbook back to Mahiru. "Here, you can try it now."

"Wait, I just remembered I havesomething for you. I was going to give it to you when we got home but I thinkthis is a good time." Mahiru set his sketchbook aside so he could rummagethrough his bag. He pulled out a box and handed it to him. He watched him withbated breath as Kuro tore off the plastic wrapper. Kuro opened it and discoveredthat it was a professional art kit. There was a sketchbook inside and severalmediums for him to use.

"Do you like it?" Mahiruasked. "I saw it when I was buying a sketchbook. I remembered you told methat you liked to draw before video games were invented. So, I decided to buyit for you. Drawing might be a good hobby for you. It's more productive thanvideo games, that's for sure."

"Hey, I'll have you know thatvideo games are very productive. You can't beat me in a thumb war with all my training." Kurosaid and Mahiru laughed at his weak argument. He shook his head wearily but he would never change Kuro. Once their laughter subsided, Kuro said,"I don't remember the last time I got a gift like this. Thank you."

"Your welcome. I would love tosee what you draw." Mahiru picked up the plastic wrapped and stood."I'm going to throw this away. I’ll be right back.”

Kuro nodded and opened his newsketchbook. He didn't want to waste Mahiru’s money so he tried to think of somethingto draw. Mahiru gazed at his thoughtful expression for a moment. It was a raresight so he wanted to study it while he can. Then he pulled his eyes away fromKuro and left to throw away the wrapping. He didn't want to litter in such abeautiful garden.

When Mahiru returned, he wassurprised to find Kuro surrounded by girls. He was only gone for a few minutesbut a crowd had gathered around him. Kuro didn't seem to be paying the girlsany mind but jealousy made Mahiru pause. As he walked closer to them, he couldhear their conversation better.

"That's a beautiful sketch… Canyou show me how to draw like that…? Who is that you're drawing…? Do you have agirlfriend?" Several of the girls spoke at once. Kuro only grunted toanswer them but his lack of answer didn't discourage the infatuated girls. Watchingthem, Mahiru frowned.

"Kuro, I'm back." Mahirusmiled stiffly. He wanted to keep his jealousy from showing but it appeared inhis voice slightly. The girls were standing very close to Kuro. He pushed himselfinto the crowd and hugged Kuro's arm. "How about we gather our things andgo have lunch? I packed all of your favourites for our date."

His words were directed towards thegirls slightly and he was glad that they moved away from Kuro. He helped himgather the art supplies and placed them in his bag. He took Kuro's hand as theywalked to the picnic area. Mahiru was confused when Kuro slipped his hand from his.Then Kuro wrapped his arm around his waist and pulled him closer so he couldkiss his cheek.

"There's people around us,Kuro." Mahiru blushed and covered his cheek. "What got into you? Youdon't usually do things like that in public."

"I thought I should show thosegirls that I’m yours. In every way, you’ll have me. So, you don't need to feeljealous." Kuro grinned down at him. His brown eyes widened at his wordsand he could hear his silent question. "You show all of your emotions onyour face. You don't need to worry about them. They saw what I was drawing andthey were interested."

"I wasn't that jealous."Mahiru pouted. He could feel Kuro's teasing eyes on him and turned back to him."Okay, I might have been a little jealous. You're handsome and girls areinto the brooding artist archetype. What were you drawing?"

"Hold still," Kuro openedhis backpack and took out his sketchbook. He opened it and showed him thesketch of Mahiru wearing a flower crown. It was simple but stunning. Hislingering jealousy melted and warmth spread through him. He could see how muchKuro loved him in the details of the drawing.

"This is beautiful, Kuro."

"Because it's you."

I can’t believe it took me this long to write a fanfic with a jealous Mahiru.

[FanficPrompt List]