#generally if you’re talking louder and not noticing it’s likely because you’re too invested in a conversation to be doing work efficiently

[blodeuweddschild]

Imo most of the time a child should decided to do/not do something not because they know their parents don’t want them it and they’re scared of the consequences, but because their parent has explained why something should/shouldn’t be done in a way the child understands and makes sense to them. And consider if you can’t find a reason to explain to your kids, maybe there’s no reason at all and your rules are arbitrary

[mochegato]

Heroic Deeds

Thanks to @boldlyanxious and @ive-fallen-down-the-rabbithole for the idea

 Marinette was going to kill her roommate.  Because that’s why she was in this situation in the first place, her roommate was too busy to pick up his own damn paperwork.  And she was just too “nice” to say no.  And puppy dog eyes should be illegal.  In fact, that was the next house rule.  No puppy dog eyes.  She has never in her life been able to say no to puppy dog eyes and mean it.  Manon, Etta, Ella, Adrien… no more!  Hence forth they were banned.  It was already a rule with the kwami.  It would just have to be instituted as a rule with humans as well.

But until then, she had to deal with this ridiculousness.  This thief that sounded like he was bored out of his mind, like she was inconveniencing him by being held hostage.  Is it too much to ask for him to be more invested in this than she is?  I mean, she may be the one with the gun pointed at her, but he’s the one that’s pointing it and he’s the one that broke into the office to steal whatever documents he was halfheartedly looking for during the day instead of at night when NOBODY WOULD BE THERE.  

But noooo, this jackass had to do it during the day and at the exact moment when she would be there. Really, what was her luck?  Was this punishment for not wearing Tikki constantly anymore?  She was only supposed to be in this office for a total of a whole ninety seconds. Walk in, grab the documents that were supposed to be ready and waiting for her, and walk out.  But instead she was stuck here critiquing this idiot’s ransacking skills, because that ninety seconds is exactly when this blasé thief decided to strike.  

At least Kate was safe, she huffed to herself.  Kate had been lucky enough to have gone to the backroom for the documents just a few seconds before Idiot Man came in.  Hopefully, she had escaped through the backdoor and had contacted the police already.  Because apparently Kate hadn’t pissed off the kwami of luck like Marinette somehow had.  She and Tikki were going to have a very long, very hissy discussion when she got back home.

And this guy wasn’t. Even.  Paying.  Attention. To.  Her.  The gun was pointed in her general direction, but it was like she was the furthest thing from his mind, like she held the same threat level as a kitten.  But that was his mistake, underestimating her, because this kitten had claws.  God, she’s been hanging out with Adrien too much.  She’s beginning to think like him.  She let out a breath and banged her head against the back of the chair she was sitting in out of frustration and disappointment in herself.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he was ignoring her to focus on his search, but he wasn’t really paying attention to that either.  She would think he was high on something if there were any other signs of it.  No, this just was just bored, like he was wasting time, waiting for the police to show up.  Maybe it’s the ski mask he was wearing that was annoying him.  Who wears a ski mask in the summer?  And… did he just check his phone!  Oh, Hell no!  That was the final straw.

She moved before she could overthink it, sliding over the desk she had moved behind when he came in. She plowed into his chest with both feet, catching him completely off guard and knocking him back into the filing cabinet.  

“Hey, get off me!” he yelled, sounding more affronted than worried.  

She twisted around and kicked the gun out of his hand with one leg, following it up with a punch that would have broken his nose if he hadn’t blocked it with his forearm, redirecting her hit.  She stopped her momentum before breaking her hand on the filing cabinet.  She pulled her arm back instead striking her elbow directly into his cheek.

“What the fuck!” he yelled, holding his cheek and looking up at her like she was crazy.

He reached for his gun, but she kicked his arm and raced for it herself, kicking it under a nearby cabinet. “That was my gun!” he gritted out, rounding on her.  At least he finally looked invested in this.

“I noticed,” she smirked at him, delivering a roundhouse kick to the face.  He dodged at the last second and shoved her leg, changing her momentum and sending her flying toward the edge of the table.  She squeezed her eyes shut as she braced herself for the impact. If she timed this right, she could use the table as a springboard to go back at him.  The table was solidly built from thick, heavy wood and metal.  It had to weigh several hundred pounds.  It would be able to take her weight without moving even a centimeter.  She took a breath to prepare, but the impact was significantly softer than she had anticipated and didn’t give her the bounce back she expected, causing her to end up sprawled on the floor instead of springing back at the thief.  

Before she had even registered what happened, she heard a grunt in front of her and the sound of the table scraping against the floor as it moved.  She looked up to a red helmet looking back at her.  Her eyes flicked down quickly to his chest as if she needed the confirmation the bright red bat there gave her.  He stood up quickly, rubbing his shoulder as he approached her. He knelt down in front of her. “You okay?”  His voice was considerably softer than she would have anticipated from the vigilante considered to be the most dangerous of the bats.

She stared at him for a few seconds, shocked by the tone and to see him there in the first place.  She had been expecting the police not a bat. It was daytime, everyone knew they didn’t come out during the day.  The bat signal didn’t work during the day.  “Miss,” he tried again, his voice taking on a concerned edge.

“Oh!  Yes.  Yeah. I’m fine.”  She nodded rapidly and reached down to rub her leg where the thief had pushed her, more to relieve anxiety than because it actually hurt.  

“You’re hurt.”  It was a comment, not a question.

“It’s okay, really,” she tried to assure him, but he was already up and stalking toward the thief who had started edging toward the door.  Marinette mentally scoffed at his stupidity.  She understood underestimating her, she was an unknown and looked tiny.  But Red Hood was a known entity.  His threat level was well established.  Why on Earth wouldn’t the thief have run as soon as he appeared?

“Hood…” he started nervously, holding up his hands as though trying to placate him.

Whatever other argument he was going to try to make died on his lips as Hood picked him up and threw him through the large, plate glass, front window.  He stood at the window for a few seconds, watching the thief run away. Satisfied with what he saw, he turned back to her.  “How badly are you hurt?”  He approached her slowly.  He rolled his shoulder a few times, almost imperceptibly.  If she hadn’t been familiar with trying to hide an injury, she might have missed it.

Marinette smiled at him.  “I’m not. Are you?  Did I hurt your shoulder when I slammed into you?”

“Are you sure?”  He stopped a respectable distance from her.  He seemed to eye her leg suspiciously, but backed off questioning it. “I mean emotionally too.  An incident like that can be stressful for some people.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “Please, that wasn’t stressful.  That was annoying.  And you didn’t answer my question.  How is your shoulder?”

Red Hood paused for a few seconds watching her.  “It’s fine.  You weren’t afraid?”

Marinette scoffed.  “No. The most stressful part of this is I’m supposed to be picking up some important documents for my roommate and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get them now.”

“If you didn’t feel afraid of what he would do, why did you attack him?  You could have provoked him into doing something he wasn’t going to do before,” he gently chided her.

Marinette let out an annoyed sigh.  “You sound like my roommate.”

“Sounds like a wise man. Why didn't you listen?” He cocked his head to the side.

She mumbled something into her feet, not making eye contact with him.

He arched his head closer to her.  “What was that?”  She mumbled something again, slightly louder this time, but still not loud enough for him to understand what she said.  “What?”

“Because he pissed me off.  Okay?” she finally yelled in exasperation.

“What did he do to piss you off?” he asked carefully, because if the guy did anything to hurt her, he was going to hunt the asshole down and kill him.

“He was bored,” she growled.  “He was holding me at gunpoint and acting like I was the one that forced him into the situation and it pissed me off, okay.  I mean the audacity!” Red Hood fought laughing at the adorable scrunched up face she made as she talked.  She waved her arms around agitatedly as she spoke.  “You don't want to be here?  Newsflash, asshole!  Neither do I! I mean, if you’re going to threaten me, put some effort into it, you know?  Am I not worth the effort?”

“You are.” Red Hood answered instantly.  “I mean, you seem like you are… from what I can tell.”

“It’s just disrespectful,” she groused, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting as she leaned against the table.

“Extremely,” he agreed absently, staring at her pouting lips.  “Lucky for you though.  Seems like he underestimated you.  I don’t even think you needed this knight in shining leather to rescue you.”

She huffed out a laugh.  “I already have a knight in shining leather.  Two, actually, if you count my roommate, which I do.  I don’t really need another.”

He motioned like he wanted to take his helmet off but stopped himself.  He positioned his arm on the table she was leaning on, supporting his weight as he leaned closer to her.  “But are they heroes?”  

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.  “I mean… to me,” she added quickly.  She didn’t need anyone making any kind of a connection between her and Chat.

He seemed to contemplate her for a moment before responding.  “You must be quite something to have so many knights willing to fight for you.  But, maybe you can use another, after all they’re not here right now and I am.  I can be your knight in shining Kevlar instead.”

She chuckled, looking down shyly.  When she looked back up, it was through her eyelashes.  “Yes, you are here and during the day too,” she smirked at him.  “I didn’t think you guys could come out during the day.  I thought sun repelled you.”

“You’re thinking of vampires.”

She pretended to study him carefully.  “So you’re stating for the official record that you are not, in fact, vampires then?  Just regular bats.  Interesting.” She looked away nodding as if in thought.  “I’ll have to let my friend know you’re refuting that theory.  She runs a superhero blog.  The vampire Bats theory is one of the more popular posts.”

He chuckled and she could hear the smile through his words. “We aren’t.  Well, I’m not.  Can’t vouch for Robin though.  He’s definitely some kind of cryptid.”

Her face was starting to hurt from trying to contain her smile. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him.  “Although… you could be lying.  After all, you are entirely covered right now… in the middle of the day… in the summer. That’s a lot of leather for a hot day. It kind of looks like you’re hiding from the sun.”  She shrugged her shoulders innocently.

Red Hood stared at her a few more seconds and she was cursing the helmet for an entirely different reason than she usually did.  Right now she was dying to know what kind of face he was making.  Was he smirking?  Was he frowning?  Was he blushing?  Did she make Red Hood blush!  Was he enjoying the interaction or was she annoying him?  He moved over to the window he had thrown the thief through earlier and stopped a few feet from it.  He pulled up his sleeve to reveal his forearm and exposed it to the sun.  “Happy?”

Marinette looked at his forearm for a few seconds, struck by the muscles that were so defined even in his forearms.  The things that man could probably do with his hands… She walked closer and started to reach out to touch his forearm only to snap her hand back at the last second.  Her cheeks blazed brightly.  She cleared her throat lightly.  “For now,” she nodded as casually as she could manage, looking everywhere but his eyes.

“Don’t feel shy, P… rincess,” he smirked at her. “Feel free to feel freely.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, as much to stop herself from reaching out to touch him as embarrassment. “Probably not a good idea to go around groping people you don’t know so….”

“So,” he started quietly, moving closer to her, “you’re saying you want to get to know me better and then you’ll grope me.” He quirked his head to the side as he took another step closer.  “How well do we have to know each other for that?  ‘Cuz, I’d let you do it now, so it’s all up to you.”

Marinette’s cheeks blazed a deep red.  She looked away to collect herself.  While this was fun and Red Hood’s body should be as illegal as his actions, she wasn’t looking to be another notch for him and considering the speed he was moving with someone he just met a few seconds ago, that’s all she would be.  She took a breath and looked back up at him.  “I’m saying… I should find the papers I was sent here for and get them back to my roommate.”

“Let me walk you home.  Make sure the guy doesn’t come back.  I can check the security of your place too to make sure you’re safe,” he offered in a tone that sounded sincere.

“Okay,” she nodded.

“Okay?”  He sounded surprised at her answer.  Most women must not say yes to him, which frankly she had a really hard time believing.

“To the walk, not the apartment check,” she corrected him firmly.  “My apartment is safe.”

“Are you sure?  I can…”

“My roommate made sure it’s safe and I trust my roommate more than I trust you,” she cut him off.  “No offense.”

Red Hood was silent for a few seconds before nodding.  “Okay.”

<><><><><> 

Marinette laid down on the couch for a while after getting home replaying the events in her head. No matter how many times she ran through them, they still didn’t make any sense.  The thief didn’t make sense.  Red Hood being there during the day didn’t make sense.  And Red Hood hitting on her… didn’t not make sense, but it definitely dampened the crush she had on him.  

After a little while, her stomach reminded her she had planned to pick up something to eat after picking up the paperwork, which means she hadn’t eaten since the croissant she had at breakfast and it was now dinnertime.  She let out a groan and forced herself up off the couch.  Maybe chopping some vegetables would make her feel better anyway.

She had already started sautéing the onions when the puppy dog eyed man himself finally made it home.  “That smells great, Mari.  Were you able to get the paperwork?”

Marinette blinked at him a few times before narrowing her eyes and pointing the knife she was holding at him.  “You’re not allowed to do puppy dog eyes anymore!”

“What?  Why?  I mean… I don’t… do that,” he trailed off quietly at the glare she was sending him.

“Yes, you do,” she glowered and went back to cutting vegetables for dinner a little more forcefully than she had originally.

“So what happened that was so bad?” he asked carefully.  He moved to sit on the counter, but made sure to keep a fair distance between him and Marinette, or more specifically, her knife.

“The office got robbed!” she exclaimed loudly, waving the knife wildly.  “While I was in it!”

He jumped down off the counter and ran to her.  He grabbed her shoulders and looked her over carefully for any signs of injury.  “Mari!  Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Marinette scoffed.  “No.  I just started trying to take him down when Red Hood interrupted.”

“Red Hood, huh?”  He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Yes, Red Hood,” she rolled her eyes.  “Shut up.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it quickly and took the knife from her hand first.  Once he was fairly safe from getting stabbed, accidentally or on purpose, he continued.  “Did you flirt with him?”

“What?” Her cheeks flared brightly.  What the hell!  Why was he asking her that?  That was not a conversation she wanted to have.  It was hard enough to have normal conversations with him and his tight shirts and charming smile and piercing eyes, but him encouraging her to flirt with other people was really not a conversation she wanted to have.

“Well you… you like him, right?  You said he was your favorite and he was a dilf, even though I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any kids,” he said nonchalantly as he swirled the onions in the pan.

“Yeah, because he could be my daddy,” Marinette muttered to herself, but apparently not as quietly as she thought she did, judging by the choking sounds next to her.

“What!”

“What?”  The smug smirk making its way across his face told her that her denial didn’t come across as innocently as she had hoped.  “Shut up, Jason.”

“So he made a good impression then?” He asked somewhat awkwardly, which was bizarre for him. “You might even want to see him again?”

She smacked him in the shoulder pausing when he flinched heavily.  She stared at him, studying him closely.  That was where Red Hood had been nursing earlier.  Red Hood, who has the same dimensions as Jason.  Red Hood, who had a still healing cut on his forearm in the exact same spot as the one Jason mysteriously showed up with a few days ago.  Red Hood, who knew her roommate was a he.  Red Hood, who reminded her so much of Jason, which is why she liked him so much in the first place.  Red Hood, who was definitely flirting with her as he rescued her while she was the only one… in Jason’s aunt’s office… after saving her from someone who, thinking back, had the same dimensions and eye color as Roy…

“Oh he made an impression,” she said absentmindedly, still staring at his shoulder.

“A… um, a good one?  He did save you, right?  Heroic deeds and all?  Women love a hero,” Jason added casually.

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds, letting the pieces settle into place.  Finally, her eyes widened in realization.  “You set it up…”

Jason’s face went blank. “I… What?”

“You set it up,” Marinette repeated with more confidence.  “You… Why?”

“What are you talking about?” Jason tried desperately.

She punched him hard in the shoulder.  “Jesus! Fuck, Pixie.  That hurt.” Jason cried out as he rubbed his aching shoulder.

“Good!  What the fuck?  Why would you do that?  Were you trying to scare me?”

“No!  I was… Because… because you liked Red Hood.  I wanted you to meet him,” he said defensively.  He looked away and took a breath.  When he looked back, his voice was quieter, shakier. “You wanted Red Hood and… and I wanted you so…”

“You know, you could have just, I don’t know, popped up on the roof when I was there or showed up when I was walking home.  You didn’t have to stage a robbery!  Think about all that damage Kate has to deal with now!”

“She was remodeling anyway. She needed to demo the entire office so… two birds, you know?”  He shrugged a little too casually to be casual and flipped the onions again.

“And one bat.” He rolled his eyes at her.  “Or you could have just… said something”

“You weren’t interested in me.  You were interested in Red Hood.”

Marinette let out a long sigh.  “I was interested in Red Hood because he reminded me of you.”

His eyes widened in realization.  “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.  And liking him seemed less emotionally damaging than destroying my relationship with you by flirting.”

“You thought I wasn’t interested?”  He looked at her incredulously.  She looked down at her feet, shuffling them awkwardly, refusing to make eye contact, almost like she was afraid of what he was going to say.  He couldn’t allow that to continue.  He turned off the stove and walked up to her slowly, careful not to scare her, just like Red Hood had earlier that day.  He gently cupped her face, softly enough that she could pull away if she wanted to.  He stroked her cheeks tenderly.  

When he finally spoke up again, his voice was loving and reverent.  “Pix, I’m head over heels.  I don’t think you even… no, I know you don’t know how much or you wouldn’t question why I tried talking to you as Red Hood instead.  I love you, Pix.  I love your heart and your humor and your sass and your passion… and your face.  I love that too.  

“And God, your smiles. I love your smile when you’re happy, which is different than your smile when you beat me at UMS, which is different than your smile when you see a little kitten, which is different than your smile when you’re thinking about home, which is different than your smile after you’ve completed a commission, which is different than your smile when I make an amazing joke that you hate.  I love them all and I just want to see any of them, all of them, every day.”

He didn’t realize how close he had gotten to Marinette’s face until he realized the gasp she let out sounded like it was right next to him.  She laid her hands over his wrists.  “Jason…”

“And I really hope I didn’t…”

“Jason!” she interrupted. He looked at her wide eyed.  She smiled reassuringly at him.  “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh God, Pixie, you can’t imagine how happy that would make me,” he smiled down at her, lowering himself so his lips were close enough for her to reach.

She grinned back up at him as she pushed herself up, her lips a few millimeters from his.  “Oh, I think I have an idea,” she whispered before closing the distance.

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 10 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9)

 Nixon - April 1944

There was a fresh energy about Emily, a lightness in her step that had never been there before. Nixon first noticed it that Monday morning when she trotted into the intelligence room with a box of what looked like handicraft materials.

“Good morning,” she said in a sing-song voice. Her smile seemed brighter against her red lips.

“‘Morning,” Nixon responded. Emily looked particularly nice that day, Nixon noted. Her hair seemed bouncier, shinier, and her legs looked as nice as ever in those black heels and nylons. This was all objectively speaking of course. She was a new woman and her renewed energy showed magnetically. Nixon wasn’t the only one to notice either; he didn’t miss the creeping eyes of other staff members doing their best to sneak a glance at Emily.

“Nix,” the voice of Dick Winters interrupted his train of thought. Nixon dropped the report he was meant to be reading and looked up at his lean, copper haired friend.

“What?”

“We’re both needed in Colonel Sink’s office.”

“Right,” Nixon stood up from his desk, his chair shifting loudly behind him.

The remainder of the day passed in monotonous agony as Nixon was pulled from one meeting to another to trainings and back again with only quick trips back to the intelligence office to grab a file or notes. At each brief return, Nixon found Emily poised at her desk, dead focused on the slowly growing stack of aerial photos on her desk. Curiosity lined with envy poked at him. She seemed so invested in what she was doing surely it was more interesting than what he had been doing all day. He felt like a carrier pigeon bringing information and requests back and forth between intelligence staff, officers, and the war department. Where was the challenge in that?

By the time evening came all Nixon wanted was to drop into bed with a drink. He had promised Welsh that he would meet him for a drink, a promise he now regretted making. The man was quartered at a house in town and it was far too easy for him to slip away to the pub, and since Nixon had privileges that the enlisted men didn’t (and because Winters didn’t drink), Welsh often invited Nixon to be his casual drinking buddy. Nixon didn’t have the same energy for the pub crowds as Welsh did. On more than one occasion he stood his friend up, and this evening was looking like it was about to be one of those times.

Nixon slumped down onto the twin bed in his tight box room and that was it, he wasn’t getting up. He lay there, head barely propped up on the pillow, lacking the energy to even pull his boots off. This wasn’t the same exhaustion he had felt during his training at Toccoa. His body was strong, in fact it felt over-rested, restless. He found himself wishing for that physical fatigue he had once known. Things had grown stale for him at Aldbourne. Generally speaking, he enjoyed the work and he did it well. But recently Nixon felt under stimulated.

Things in his personal life had also become stagnant. His letters home were predictable and polite. He wasn’t lacking in fraternity camaraderie thanks to his friendships with Winters and Welsh and now Emily. He fully considered her a friend, and one he was grateful to know. Yet, Nixon felt himself wanting since the drama of their strained association had ended.

With combat on the horizon, he was conscious of not jinxing the relative peace he was experiencing. But a part of him, deep down, feared his own potential recklessness. He knew himself well enough to suspect that he may just do something that his rational self would regret later if this boredom continued.

Perhaps he should go out for that drink with Welsh, at least for the opportunity to burn off some frustrated energy. Barely lifting his head from the pillow, Nixon tipped a bit of liquor from his flask down his throat as he debated with himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by the gentlest knock at his door. Nixon lifted his head in surprise, he wasn’t expecting anyone.

“Lew? You in there?” A voice murmured through the wooden door.

“Yeah,” Nixon whispered louder back, “come in,” he said as an afterthought.

Slowly, the door was eased open and Emily slipped quickly inside. She was dressed in slacks and a dark blouse tied up loosely around her waist. Although it was late evening and her face looked clean of makeup she still sported her bold red lipstick. She grinned naughtily, obviously feeling rebellious for being in his room at such an hour.

“Emily?” Nixon couldn’t say he wasn’t a little surprised, “what’re you doing here?”

From behind her back Emily produced an open bottle of red wine and a deck of playing cards.

“What do you say?” she smiled charmingly, “up for a little gin?”


Nixon raised an eyebrow, “I hope you mean the game and not that you have gin in that stoppered bottle of yours.”



“Don’t be silly! Do you mind?” Emily flopped down on the foot of his bed without waiting for permission. “I’m afraid the wine won’t be up to your usual standard. If I’m being completely honest, it wasn’t very expensive.”

“You always assume me a snob.” Nixon took the bottle from her to check out the label.

“Well, you are kind of a snob. Vat 69 exclusively?”



“I drink beer.”

“As a supporting act,” Emily said.

Nixon chuckled and handed the bottle back to her, “you don’t know much about whiskey do you?”

“See! That’s something a snob would say!”

“I could be worse.”

“True,” Emily conceded, “you’re a snob but at least you’re not condescending. I’ve met a few guys like that.”

“Notre Dame men?”

“Harvard, I’ve recently met them.”

“Good thing I went to Yale.”

“Oh yes, good thing!” Emily teased.

“Anyways,” Nixon continued, “you may be surprised to know that Vat 69 isn’t the smoothest of whiskeys. Just happens to be my personal preference.” 


Emily eyed him, he could see that she wanted to say something but was holding back.



“What?” he pried.

“Nothing!” Her voice clearly revealed she didn’t actually mean nothing.

“Tell me.”

Emily chewed on her lip then smiled hesitantly, “do all alcoholics have preferences?”



Nixon rolled his eyes, “I’m only an alcoholic if it becomes a problem.”

“If?” Emily wrestled the cork from her wine bottle.


“Has my work performance been slipping, Miss Rooney? Do you have some feedback you would like to offer?”

Emily took a swig from the bottle. Nixon could see the tint of ox blood red blossom between her cherry lips before she swallowed. “Not at all Captain.” 



Nixon’s mouth twisted in distaste and he gestured for her to pass the bottle. She took another drink before handing it over, “actually,” she said smacking her lips, “I did have a question - or actually something I wanted to share - from when I was looking over a few of those surveillance pictures. I noticed that there was this hedge, or like fence, or something in a place that isn’t showing up on the topographers’ maps. I think that may change or impact whatever’s in the works.”

Nixon nodded thoughtfully, “okay, good to know. We can go over it in more detail tomorrow or next time we’re both in the office. But enough shop talk, why are you here again?”



Emily held up the deck of cards triumphantly, “gin! Want to play? Or am I interrupting plans?” she asked suddenly timid.

Nixon thought about Welsh at the pub. Eh, he probably made some new buddies to drink with, Nixon wasn’t worried. He still felt tired but looking at Emily perched on the end of his bed, he wasn’t about to kick her out. It’s not like he would be sleeping if she left anyways. The most tragic irony of his current state was that his restless exhaustion had made an insomniac out of him.

“Not at all, let’s play.”


Light seemed to radiate off of her smile in the dimmed room. She tucked her legs under her and dealt the cards. Nixon took another drink of wine, feeling his frustration abate, at least for the night.

Nixon’s workload continued to increase over the next couple of days. He was run ragged by a laundry list of tasks. Although the tasks felt menial, there was the sensation that things were coming to a head. He had known that something big was in the works for a while now. Since he handed those first photos over to Emily he was prepared for what was most likely their invasion of the continent. Finally, it seemed as if it was going to happen.

The intelligence office had been instructed to begin constructing sand tables; miniature, but lifelike maps of the terrain where the allies intended to invade. In a meeting with the higher-ups, Nixon had been instructed not to divulge the location for the impending invasion to anyone. The point of invasion was on a need-to-know basis. The sand tables could be constructed based off of the provided information without having to reveal the actual location. According to Colonel Sink, Emily and other S-2s were to simply be artists for the time being.

Nixon had barely found the time to relay construction instructions to Emily before he was whisked off to another meeting. Ergo, he hadn’t found the time to review the issue she had brought up to him the other night; an inconsistency with the aerial photos and topographical maps.

“Sir,” Emily stood up from her desk when he ducked in to visit his desk one day, “I need to talk to you.”


Nixon ignored her, focused on his task. He was only there to collect some reports.

“Nixon, sir,” Emily skittered over to his desk. “Sir, I need to show you these photos I pieced together. Remember? I mentioned the other night-,”

“Not now Emily,” Nixon grumbled as he rifled through his papers.


“Nixon, please it’s important. I think you should know before you proceed any further with whatever is being planned.”

“You can show me later.”

“I could, yes sir, but I think you should know that the topographical maps may not be completely accurate. They’ll need to be altered which means any strategic planning may need changing which I would hate for everyone to have to revise. It would be better to start with the correct information-,”

“Emily! Please!” Nixon finally found the reports he was after. He exited the room quickly with Emily on his heels, her black pumps tip-tapping irritatingly across the wood and carpets of the manor.

“Lewis, I wanted to show you days ago, take a look at these, really quick,” she stuffed the photos under his chin. Nixon snatched them out of her hand exasperatedly, “what?” he demanded.

She was struggling slightly to keep pace with him but managed to point out a row of hedges, thick and wide, that bordered the far right of one photo and the far left of another. Side by side, the photos formed a clear picture. If Emily hadn’t pointed out the hedge, Nixon may have assumed that the dense shrubbery was blurred photo ink.

“Where is this?”


“It appears to be a large hedgerow right near Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. In fact, it appears to be one of the largest in the area. Sir, it’s not on the topographers’ maps and in my opinion a hedgerow of this size should be included on those maps. It could offer strategic cover for almost the whole battalion. Even possibly an opportune place to set up a rendezvous point? Assuming the Germans aren’t encroaching on that position.” Emily’s voice didn’t waver. She was confident in her work.

“How do you know this is Sainte-Marie-du-Mont?” Nixon kept his voice neutral. Of course he knew that Operation Overlord intended to drop the Airborne into Normandy, but Emily shouldn’t have been the wiser.

Emily returned his suspicious gaze with an emotionless one. There was no hint as to how she discovered the intended invasion point. “I know my maps, sir,” she said.

Nixon couldn’t help the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. “Thanks for sharing this with me, Miss Rooney. Nice work. I’ll be sure to pass the information along.”

[staticscreenwriting]

The loneliest time of the year || Part two

Part 2 of 4

Summary: With a broken heart and the fear of having failed as a father, Frankie returns to his parents house for Christmas. What is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year feels quite lonely. Though when an old friend shows up unexpectedly with her young son in tow, Frankie’s Christmas seems to gain a little more happiness. Can they help each other fight the ghosts of their pasts and overcome their fears ?

A/N: This is part of my 12 days of Christmas / Advent special. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Four messed up pies

By the morning of December 9th a heavy blanket of snow rests upon the world like a tick coat of marshmallow fluff. 

A restlessness surges through Frankie as he turns from his left to his right to his back then repeats the process all over again. He kicks away the blankets then pulls them back. Sleep doesn’t come easy these days. In fact sleep hasn’t come easy in a while. It’s a price you have to pay for leading the life he leads, has led. For doing the job he did. You see things, bad things, and they stay with you. Not always but in the quiet moments they creep back into your mind and all you can do is stare and hope they fade again soon. Fill your brain with other things. Occupy your mind.

It’s moments like these that his fingers are twitching and his body is aching for release. For something to numb his mind. Help him forget. 

There aren’t a lot of things that Frankie is proud of. In fact he can count them on one hand. One of them is his ability to fly. He's a damn good pilot … most of the time. (He is when someone doesn’t force him to navigate an overloaded plane across the Andes). He’s proud of Rosie. Despite his flaws and shortcomings he managed to create something so utterly perfect, that’s something to be proud of. And the. There’s the little coin in the pocket of his jacket. The one he fumbles with whenever he’s anxious or stressed. It’s gold and smooth and it proudly displays a big number 10 in the middle of a triangle on the front of the coin.

10 months. That’s a proud achievement. 

It could be more. It should be more! He really tried but after coming home from Colombia, one man less than they went in, after his girlfriend broke up with him and took Rosie with her. After everything. He needed the psi to stop. Just for one goddamn minute. He felt immediate regret wash over him when he woke up the next morning. Called Pope. Entered a 12 step program.

10 months and he feels better. He likes himself more now. But in those 10 months the voices have gotten louder, the images clearer, his heart feels heavier. 

With sleep being so far out of reach, he kicks off the blanket and drags his body out of bed. The smell of coffee hits his nose as soon as he steps out of his room, it drifts from the kitchen all the way up the stairs. 

His parents are sitting by the kitchen counter, mom holding onto a big steaming mug of coffee while his dad is deeply invested in the morning. Paper, glasses perched low on his nose. This is home, it sends him straight back to his childhood. If only, he thinks, if only he could provide this sense of warmth and domesticity for his own child. 

A knock on the front door shakes him from his thoughts. As he swings it open, a sharp sting of cold winter air whips at him, nips at his nose, his ears and his bare feet.

“Frankie hey, oh sorry did I wake you?”

(Y/N) is once again bundled up in layers of cozy clothes, keeping her warm and sheltered from the harsh weather. She looks cute. Absolutely fucking adorable. But in that moment, he doesn’t really notice that. Doesn’t notice Leo standing behind her either. His entire attention rests on the steaming pie she holds in her hands. 

“You made a pie?”

“She made 4.” Leo speaks up, his voice dripping with irritation and annoyance. 

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus, dude!”

Frankie regards the exchange with a fond smile pulling at the corners of his lips. There’s something so distinctly familiar in the way she interacts with her son, so unapologetically her. The way she’s always been. But now grown up entirely. A mother. 

“Why did you make 4 pies?” He asks, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Well I didn’t plan on making 4. The first one I mistook salt for sugar so you can imagine how it tasted. The second one I put way too much sugar in, might’ve been trying to compensate for my mistake with the first one but yeah that one did end up in the trash as well. The third … well I got pretty invested in an episode of unsolved mysteries and forgot it was in the oven so it turned out um — “

“Black. It was burned to a crisp.” Leo chimes up again, this time more amused than annoyed by his mother’s baking escapades.

“Yeah. It burned. But number 4 is looking pretty good.”

She looks up at Frankie with a smile so radiant it rivals the sun reflecting on the snowy ground. Pride shines in her eyes as she holds the pie towards him.

“Did you make me a pie?”

“Not exactly. It’s mostly for your folks. They agreed to watch this one while I got shopping for his Christmas presents.” (Y/N) explains, her tumb motioning towards the little boy over her shoulder. “This is a thank you to them for being literal angels. “

“Oh man you wouldn’t be saying that if you had to live with them growing up. I can’t tell you how many times dad unplugged my console while I was in the middle of a game.”

It’s a joke, of course it is. He really lucked out in the parents department and he’s not too proud or too shy to admit it. Maybe, he thinks, the good parent gene might’ve skipped a generation with him. His ex will surely agree with that statement. 

“Hey uh — you mind having some company while shopping ?”

“You wanna go shopping for toys?”

“I need to get some presents for my daughter.”

“Oh that’s right, you have a kid too. “

He doesn’t blame her for not remembering. He doesn’t strike people as the father type. And really, he hasn’t seen his little one in quite some time.doesn’t see her during the entire Christmas time. Is he really much of a father anyway?

“Sure yeah! I’d love some company.”

Maybe, Frankie thinks, this will help him drown out the voice. Those that tell him bad thoughts, whisper mean things. Maybe it will help him filter out the images. The blood. The suffering.

Frankie was never overly fond of the extreme commercialization of what should be a peaceful family holiday. But maybe this year he is,a little bit at least. Because those bright colors, the loud noises, the crowds, the ads assaulting you from every corner, that all will help drown out the dark. At least for a moment. 

“Alright lemme just get changed real quick.”

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Five days a week

“What the fuck is this?”

“It’s uh … it’s a … a game?”

“A game where you have to catch a piece of … poop.”

A wave of laughter tumbles from (Y/N)’s lips as Frankie holds up the brightly colored box, proudly displaying a drawing of a smiling turd. 

“It’s so dumb. And that says a lot coming from me, I can appreciate a good fart joke. But this is …. this is just dumb. “

“ It's what the kids these days want. I guess …”

“Would you buy this for Leo?”

“Absolutely not,” (Y/N) replies before taking the box from his hand and placing it back on the shelf between several more games of a similar kind. “But he wouldn’t like it anyway. Leo likes books and animals and fantasy movies. He’s so smart sometimes I wonder where he got it from.”

“You kidding me?” Frankie exclaims, “you’re so smart and if I remember correctly, you always carried around books when you were younger.”

(Y/N) just shrugs at his words though Frankie can’t make out a faint blush of red dusting her cheeks. “Leo is such an easy kid, always has been. Sometimes I wonder if that’s really the way he is or if he just tries to be that way because of me. Because he knows that I have to do all the parenting by myself and he feels he’s responsible for helping me along.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re doing good with him. Least you know what to get him for Christmas, what he cares about, what he’s interested in.”

His heart feels so heavy. His words seem to weigh down on his tongue like a stack of bricks. To admit your own failures to yourself is one thing, to admit them to someone else is quite another story.

“What do you mean ?”

“I — I have no idea what to get for Rosie. I don’t even know when I’ll see her next. She stays with her mom 5 days a week. I only get her on the weekends and even then her mom often finds a reason not to let her stay. Special occasions? I don’t get to spend those with her. Bet she doesn’t even recognize me anymore next time. She’s just a baby …”

This can’t be happening. He’s not going to start crying in the middle of a Toys R Us like a hyperactive toddler on a temper tantrum. Not in front of a beautiful girl who has been nothing but kind to him. This can’t be happening.

(Y/N)’s hand settles on his arm with a gentle touch. Almost as if she’s afraid he’ll break any minute now. And honestly, he might.

“Tell me about Rosie. I know she means the world to you and that’s all that matters Frankie. You’re trying. You’re trying so hard and I’m sure there’s lots about her that you know that no one else does. She’s your baby too. So tell me about her and we’ll figure out what to get her.”

And so they sit down on a swing set, one that’s definitely not meant for adults to sit on and have deep discussions, and Frankie starts talking. Once he starts it’s like a cork has been popped. It pours out of him, all of his pride and admiration and love for Rosie. All that has been brewing for so long now bubbles over. 

“... and she, she loves cuddling onto my chest and just listens to me. She doesn’t understand a word but she looks at me with her big beautiful eyes and it feels like I’m telling her all the biggest secrets of the universe the way she looks at me. Sometimes I sing and she — she falls asleep immediately.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Nah I think it's because my rendition of Eric Clapton is just real bad and boring.”

Their laughter is quiet, almost as if they are afraid of breaking the spell of this moment. Sometimes you find yourself at your most vulnerable during the big moments of your life and sometimes you do in the middle of a Toys R Us, sitting on a swingest that just barely holds your weight while a plastic giraffe looks over your shoulder and Kacey Musgrave’s rendition of “I’ll be home for Christmas” plays over the same overhead speakers that have been installed there in 1983.

“I just don’t want to disappoint her.”

 He’s already disappointing himself and that hurts bad enough.

“Frankie, let me be honest with you. She’s a baby, she’s not gonna care what you get for her. This is more about you than her. Whatever you get she’s gonna like it. Babies are easy to please, gets harder the older they get. We’ll find something cute for her but um … I think you should call her.”

“She’s a baby, she doesn’t have a phone yet.”

“ Really? I had Leo on a newborn data plan the second he popped out.”

Frankie raises his eyebrow in confusion.

“I was joking you dingus. Of course you’re gonna call her mom. There’s this thing, I don’t know if you’ve heard about it, it’s called FaceTime. You can actually see ther person on the other side. “ 

“ Very funny. I know what facetime is … “ 

“ Then call them. You said it yourself, the little one doesn’t understand a word of what you’re saying but that doesn’t matter. You’re there. You’re showing interest and taking initiative. It shows you care. And I think seeing her might be good for you too, even if it’s not in person.” 

“ You know, that sounds like a pretty good plan. “ 

“ Yeah? “ she asks him, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes, in her voice, in her entire being.

“ Yeah. “ 

“ Alright! Now let’s go find some presents for the little princess. May I suggest a cellphone? “ 

This time her laughter isn’t quite. It’s loud and radiant and the way her own joke amuses herself, is so goddamn endearing to Frankie. 

“ Ah shut up. “ he replies though his voice too is dipped in amusement as he throws his arm around her shoulders and they walk down the shiny linoleum floor, past dolls and teddy bears and Star Wars action figures.

And it feels right. Like the fit together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces slotting into place. 

And that feeling is damn scary.

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Six-hour flights.

The floor of (Y/N)’s living room is covered in wrapping paper. Reds and greens and silvers and golds hide what once was a nice dark cherry wood floor. There are bows and ribbons and gift tags in all shapes and sizes and colors. 

“ Looks like Santa’s workshop in here, “ Frankie exclaims as he drops down on the floor next to her. All the presents they’ve purchased, neatly lined up in front of them, ready to be wrapped. Though to be fair, Frankie is quite sure he’s not gonna do a lot of wrapping himself. Sometimes you gotta admit defeat. And he ain’t too proud to admit that he is a horrible, horrible wrapper. 

“ Yeah, I know I’m making a big fuss over things like this. Wrapping and the tree and stuff like that. I just — I don’t know it just makes me happy when I see that my actions put a smile on the faces of the people I love. “ 

“ Oh I wasn't judging. It’s sweet. “ 

For a while they stay in comfortable silence. Just them and the radio playing old Christmas songs. (Y/N)’s hands do quick work on the presents, Santa’s elves would be jealous. 

It’s the first time in a long time, that silence doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable. That it doesn’t open up the gates for the voices to grow louder and the bad images to consume his head. No, this silence feels comfortable. It’s soft and warm. It’s tinted in golds and reds. 

Maybe, he thinks, maybe seeking the company of someone who exudes joy and warmth does him good. Someone who knows him but not the bad. Never the bad. The faults, yes, the fears even, but not the blood that stains his hands or the vices he so desperately tries to fight.

“ What was the best Christmas present you ever got? “ (Y/N) speaks up as she glides a pair of scissors along the ribbon turning it into shiny curls. 

“ Millennium Falcon playset.” 

“ You and a million other little boys. “ 

“True. What can I say, I was easily pleased. What was yours ?”

(Y/N) thinks for a moment before a wistful smile settles on her face. 

“My bubblegum pink roller skates.”

“Oh, I remember those!”

And he did. Squeaky pink roller skates with 4 pastel blue wheels and glittery silver laces.

“I remember the following summer all you did was skate up and down the street.  “

“Yeeeah but that wasn’t entirely because of the skates.”

Frankie combs his hair from his face, he really needs to get it cut, and looks at her in confusion. “Huh?”

Another chuckle falls from (Y/N) ‘s lips. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”

“ Notice what?”

“That I had the biggest crush on you.”

Frankie is grateful for the fact that he’s not taking a sip of his drink right then, it surely would’ve ended in a spit-take. He was a nerdy kid, a nerdy teenager too. Kinda shy, a little lost. He wasn’t usually the boy that girls fancied.

“Me? You had a crush on me? “

It doesn’t make sense, not really. She was the one that was fascinating and exciting. Though he didn’t think of her that way when they were kids, he knew she was beautiful even back then. He hadn’t been interested in her romantically because she was a few years younger but that didn’t meanie didn’t realize the magic she held.

“Yes, you. You were cool, Frankie. You were older and you knew stuff about cars and planes and you could name every Star Wars spaceship and you had a skateboard. “

“I was a horrible skater.”

“Sure but it wasn’t so much about the skating as it was about the aesthetic. You were cool and you still are cool”

Frankie shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly. She thought he was cool, still does. No one ever thought he was cool. He isn’t a smooth talker like Pope and even he himself can admit that look wise he isn’t even playing in the same league as Will and Benny. But if (Y/N) thinks he’s cool that must mean something. Right ?

“You were the one traveling all over the world with your dad and you thought I was cool?”

She sets down the scissors, let’s her hands rest on her lap. There’s a sense of nervousness exuding from her now. Like the words she wants to speak are resting on the tip of her tongue and yet they are so difficult to speak.

“Maybe that was part of it too. I never had a real home. Nothing stable at least. Except for my grandparents’ house. This was home and you were, you are, forever entwined with my idea of home. Sometimes I missed this place so much that I’d sit in my room and my little brain would think of all the fun adventures we could go on if only I was old enough to hop on a 6 hour flight by myself. I’d ask grandma about you every time I called and she always told me what trouble you got into.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yeah and that only made you more exciting in my eyes. Then she’d offer to let me speak to you but I was too chicken shit to do it. Thought you might look right through my facade and realize how into you I was.”

“I was so oblivious, I can assure you I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Well … it’s too late now.”

“I guess so. Just — next time you fall in love with me let me know, alright.”

Her laugh rings through the room like bells, like songs, like whispers of a childhood magic long forgotten.

“That only sounds fair. It’s a deal.”

“Good, now …. would you mind wrapping my gifts for Rosie?”

“Nope, but in return would you come see Leo’s play with me next week? My dad can’t come and I think Leo would like to have some more people there that support him. And he seems to think you’re cool so …”

“Huh guess if you both think so it must be true.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Of course I’ll come. “

She smiles and it sends a weird flicker through him. Like fire, like electricity. 

“ Now let me teach you how to curl the ribbon properly.”

[a-little-slice-of-fandom]

A) hi how ya doing? B) I miss you C) can you analyze anything of Aragon? Thank you :)

Hey anon! I’m doing good ❤️❤️❤️ thanks so much for asking! I hope you’re doing well too!

Aragon is really interesting to me, because her song is kind of like the bohemian rhapsody of six. Very few people will say that it’s their favourite, but everyone will instantly sing along because it’s so catchy! Plus, it’s a great song to follow ex-wives with. It keeps the energy up and introduces the audience to the plot of the show.

I will say this until the day I die: while I would love if more songs were as scathing as say AYWD...you could never start with those songs. It’s too much too quickly. You need the more catchy, light-hearted songs of Ex-Wives, No Way and DLUH to start with because it helps get the audience invested in the show and the plot as a whole. Six, first and foremost, will always need to work dramatically. That’s why the old, more openly bitter No Way was changed to something a little more light-hearted.

The first thing that always comes to mind when I think of Aragon is regal. She’s the queen who was married to Henry for 24 years and was a Spanish princess as well. She’s the refined, confident queen who knows her own worth and honestly? I get the vibe she just wants a little bit of respect from the other queens. While some people characterise Aragon as rather cold, I honestly don’t get that? The show portrays Aragon as a very loyal person despite all that Henry put her through, and she clearly cares for Mary and also, to a lesser extent, Parr as her god daughter (remember she calls Howard “the least relevant Katherine”...meaning she does see Parr as relevant.) and she often refers to other queens as “babe” even though she was just arguing with them five seconds earlier (harking on the idea of forgiveness, something I think Aragon is very good at in the show!). Plus, while there’s only one line referring to Mary, Aragon is always so protective of her and warm to her. In the album, Renee’s “aw, hi baby!” is the most adorable and heartwarming part of the song and it’s clear she adores her daughter, while the “oh, you don’t remember?” in the live versions is so protective of her baby. It’s honestly something we don’t discuss enough. Moreover, Aragon’s song is one of the most energetic, but she has her earnest moment of pleading as well, along with her undisputable strength of refusing to back down and accept Henry’s lies. She is also incredibly passionate when talking about something she loves or defending herself when she has to (which make sense! This was the woman who rode with an army wearing armour while pregnant. Aragon was not to be messed with!).

I personally disagree with people who try and claim that Toby and Lucy wrote Aragon as the “angry” queen because she never truly gets to the levels of boleyn or seymour (yes there’s the miscarriage argument where she does raise her voice but like...are we ignoring Seymour’s “boohoo Mary had the chickenpox” or the fact that Boleyn is also shouting in that argument??? And she usually goes louder than Aragon???) and yet she’s so often defined by that trait even though other queens share it and are even more extreme. And yes, Im fully aware of why certain people characterise aragon in this way and I’m so annoyed that even though we continually call out the fact that’s it’s problematic, it continues to happen. However Aragon does have flaws like every good character should. Aragon just won’t try and listen to the other queens. She refuses to accept that Boleyn or Seymour might have had a worse time than her. Now I personally never got the feeling that Aragon blames the other queens for anything. Her feelings are directed at Henry. Notice in now way she talks about how henry is “running around with some pretty young thing” and she refers to him having “one son with someone who don’t own a wedding ring”. Those people? They’re clearly supposed to be Boleyn and Bessie, two people who are actually on stage at the time. But Aragon doesn’t take an easy shot at either of them in her song. She doesn’t say their name or call them out or try and involve them in her song. Contrast this with DLUH where Boleyn grabs Aragon, forces her to be front and centre in this verse and then insults her constantly (“three in the bed” = airing Aragon’s and Henry’s ✨ intimate issues ✨ with the entire world while “Don’t be bitter, cause I’m fitter” and “he doesn’t want to bang you, somebody hang you” are both pretty self explanatory). I think it’s absolutely key that Aragon doesn’t blame Boleyn or Bessie or direct any misplaced feelings towards them in no way or the show. Her (very justified) feelings of anger and betrayal are (generally) directed at Henry. And that’s something so many people ignore! And I personally wish more people would be like Aragon in this regard in the real world. I don’t know if other people agree with me, but it’s your boyfriends/husbands job to not cheat on you, not someone else’s. I do know some people think that Aragon is slighting Boleyn and Bessie in that verse but if we’re sticking to tudor ideals, Aragon not mentioning them by name (in essence keeping their “dignity” and “honour” intact) would be the kinder thing to to. (Note I’m only saying this with Tudor ideals in mind. I also think Aragon fully knows that Bessie was 13 when Henry started making advances on her and again, refuses to blame Bessie for what happened because she knows she’s a victim).

However...Aragon doesn’t ever try and listen to other queens and will insult them if she has to. She (along with the other queens like Boleyn and Seymour) gets more and more defensive and petty as the show continues. However, she never gets to the same levels of hard hitting insults has say Boleyn. But I mean...Aragon was a queen who went through so much in her lifetime and never was able to really talk about it. Yes, she resisted Henry trying to get their marriage annulled, and she was one of the strongest women at the time, but she couldn’t deal with her emotions the same way that we can today. She never got to told Boleyn to go away or leave her alone. She never got to bad mouth Henry because he was the king. She was, first and foremost, a lady, and she was expected to act in a certain way all of her life. And now that she’s reincarnated in modern days, she doesn’t have to do all of those things. She can be annoyed and let it show, she can tell Boleyn all those things she wanted to do back in the day. Some actresses even lean into the idea that it’s sort of cathartic for Aragon to FINALLY just say what she wants to say without having to worry on how it would reflect on her as queen. Mind you, I still think that Aragon considers how her words would reflect on her (much more than any other queen) but she definitely has more wiggle room within the show than she did during her reign.

In addition, while the fandom also like to reduce Aragon to obsessed with her religion, I actually really like how her relationship with Catholicism is portrayed in the show. While I do concede that Aragon’s faith is sometimes reduced to the butt of the joke, that’s not always the case and I personally really enjoy how Aragon seems to gain a lot of strength from her religion, instead of it holding her back or hindering her. While I do understand why so many characters in media struggle with their religion or find it suffocating (my relationship with Catholicism is...fragile at the best of times), but I genuinely love this idea that Aragon’s faith is what guides her and gives her inner strength in times of need. I mean,,,when she’s pleading to Henry during now way, the music slows to something that sounds more like a gospel song, Aragon is kneeling with her hands clasped and there's bright white light around her (i also vaguely remember something that looks like a crucifix behind her as well? But I'm not 100 percent sure on that). At the time where Aragon is most vulnerable and needs to find inner strength and wants guidance...she turns to her religion and that's seen as a very positive thing!!! The same with Aragon's verse in Sox. Moving to a nunnery and finding friends there is something that's now postive and liberating instead of being stuffy and boring and restrictive like nunnery are often portrayed as in media. (yes I know that's also a play on Henry wanting to send Aragon into the nunnery after their divorce but I do think that there’s no malicious religion-basing in Six is a nice touch that’s often overlooked).

Finally, Aragon’s costume is quite important to her character. It is one of the more feminine outlines (especially the updated version on broadway) and I do think it’s an inadvertent issue that the queens with the more stereotypical feminine costumes are more catty whereas the more stereotypical androgynous or masculine outfits (aka Parr and Cleves) are often the voices of reason, but I don’t think that’s intentional or is intended to comment on anything. It’s just a coincidence. However, the gold of Aragon’s outfit obviously symbolises her love, courage and passion, along with indicating her status as a noble. While yes the rest of the queens were all noble in some way before they married Henry, Aragon was a Spanish princess and the daughter of two incredibly powerful monarchs. She was probably the highest standing out of any of the queens, and her costume reflects that. I also think that her wearing gold to flaunt her status could be her trying to make up for the years between her marriages to Arthur and Henry (where she didn’t have many provisions made for her as far as I know) and also the last few years of her life. (I’ve seen differing reports on how Aragon was provided for after Henry divorced her, with her claiming that she was living in poverty while others state she got 3000 pounds. If anyone has any confirmation then let me know). Either way, her wanting to flaunt her status after her reincarnation by wearing lots of bright gold makes total sense. I’ve also seen a few people say that the bust on Aragon’s costume is the most historically accurate but I can’t confirm that, although if it is then that’s a really nice touch.

Well this took ages, but it was fun to finally get to analyse stuff again AND do it on a queen who doesn’t get discussed very much!!! Aragon often gets reduced to “catholic” or “angry” within this fandom, even though she is just as complex as any other character within the show but she just expresses things in very different ways. And that’s okay! This whole show is about how women (and NB folk!) are different and do have different experiences and do express things differently and have different personalities and that’s okay! We should celebrate our differences.

[the-voltage-diaries]

tbh I think eisuke is better than Taki because he has more of a character development, wouldn't you agree?

Hey there, anon! Lmao that’s a kind of a controversial question you’ve asked me haha

Disclaimer: What’s written below is my own humble opinion, it’s not meant to hate on, or disregard, or disrespect anyone intentionally.

I’m going to have to say I disagree. And by saying I disagree, I am not, in the least bit, trying to state the counter: that Taki is better than Eisuke. If someone said that, I’d disagree then too. And that’s because of one simple reason, that Taki and Eisuke are two separate individuals with very, very different personalities and it’s wrong to compare them on the basis of character development, according to me. 

Here’s why:

1. Statue vs Rust Now, here’s a way to look at it. Eisuke’s character development is like making a statue, whereas Taki’s is like removing the rust. When it comes to Eisuke, his character development starts at a point where he doesn’t even know half the human emotions that exist, like love, care, affection, et cetera. He doesn’t invest his time in them because he’s never felt much of them, and the MC, over a period of time, has to make him understand what those emotions mean and how important they are. He gets introduced to a world he never knew, in a sense. That’s precisely why Eisuke has so much scope for development, too. In a metaphorical sense, it’s like the KBTBB MC meets a stone Eisuke and over a period of time, and after putting in tonnes of affection, hard work, and care, sculpts him into a beautiful statue. She slowly works on the intricate details and makes him into who he is now. Now, if you look at Taki, the scope for his character development is limited in this sense (I’ll elaborate on that in a bit). With him, it’s like polishing the rust off of something. When it comes to his story line, he is very different in terms of knowing emotions as compared to Eisuke because he has already felt emotions like love, care, affection, et cetera. In his teenage years, he was a very charming and kind individual who knew those feelings well. But, due to the misunderstanding with MC and the debt situation, he felt like those emotions aren’t meant to be felt, that they are a hindrance. He purposefully chose to mask over what he felt because he knew the price of letting them out. Here, MC’s task was to remove that facade, and she made him realise it’s okay to feel those feelings. It was like removing a thick layer of rust to allow his inner self to shine through. In simpler terms, it’s like letting something which was already there come up to the surface, instead of shaping it from scratch, like what happens with Eisuke.

Even if you look at their MS’, you’ll notice that Eisuke, by the end of his MS is still pretty bland whereas Taki has more of a feel to him. He smiles more, he’s more honest, and it’s like bringing a teenage Taki back.

2. Varying Scopes Eisuke’s stories are more about him coming to terms with his emotions and realizing he feels things which he didn’t even know he felt. More like, Eisuke’s story line’s central theme, in most cases, is working on his character development from an emotional point of view. It focuses on how Eisuke feels, and grows that into something more. Whereas with Taki, his stories aren’t about his character development with respect to feeling new emotions and dealing with them. His character development is linked to coming to terms with his past and allowing himself to feel what he denied feeling for so many years. That’s one reason why you won’t find a lot with Taki in terms of his emotional development with respect to feeling new things.

3. History does repeat itself With Eisuke and MC, it’s important to note that they didn’t know each other at all prior to that fateful meeting at the hotel lobby. They probably hadn’t even talked much and their relationship started from square one. So it’s kind of understandable why Eisuke would still keep his walls up for a LONG time. It takes a while for Eisuke and MC to work through obstacles and establish a degree of trust between them with respect to each other. Whereas with Taki, MC and him already share a history. They were high school sweethearts and Taki and MC both know what the other person was like, and can decipher from a mere few moments that neither of them has changed much over the years, except for having a higher wall around them, owing to their experiences with life in the past. Once Taki and MC realise who the other is, it’s a little bit of awkwardness before they both allow themselves to settle in and be comfortable around each other (even banter a lot lol), because they essentially do know the other person well. Because of that, there’s already a certain degree of trust established between Taki and MC right from the middle of his MS Season 1. That, in turn, leaves less of character development in terms of his relationship with MC when it comes to Taki.

4. Family Backgrounds It’s also important to look at how different their backgrounds are. Eisuke hails from a reputable family, and was adopted into a super rich family as a kid too. He has always dealt with two-faced people and has always had a much more luxurious life from the start. What I’m trying to say is, Eisuke’s not bothered to concern himself with emotions from the very beginning because that’s what’s been ingrained into him from his childhood. Also, because he’s been ultra rich from the start, the MC has more work to do when it comes to making him realise money ain’t everything, my guy. Now with Taki, he has very humble origins. He came from a very normal family, and knows what it’s like to live with just enough money (not being ultra rich, I mean). He was a very normal guy in high school with a very warm group of friends, an incredible girlfriend who he was in love with and a very humble life. His attachment to money came with the debt, when he realised as long as you have money, you have power and as long as you have power, you have everything. MC’s task here was to take him back to his teenage days and make him understand that sometimes, it’s the less expensive things which give you more happiness. 

5. Old Habits Die Hard Now, let’s look at their interactions with the MC. If you’ve noticed, Eisuke is very... hm, how should I put it... non-slangy + formal in the way he speaks. To make more sense of this, Eisuke is very proper when he speaks, and he doesn’t use a lot of phrases like “Man, you’re...” or “God, that was....”. And that’s because it’s been ingrained into him. Eisuke’s vocabulary is very prim and proper and non-slangy because that’s what he’s been taught since childhood. It makes him seem more like a robot, in a sense in the very beginning, in my opinion. Gives him a less relatable vibe, basically (and I mean no hate). Whereas if you look at Taki’s stories, he often uses a lot of phrases like, “God, you’re cute.” or “Man, that was something.” and that’s mainly just his high school, boy next door self showing its form. It makes him more relatable and human in my opinion, and those slangs are what show the reader that yes, the Teenage Taki still exists in there.

6. Won’t Lose You As stated previously, Eisuke hadn’t even known the MC exists till they met in the hotel lobby in the prologue. So when Eisuke and MC start dating, it’s with a perspective of “Okay, now she is my girlfriend.”, which doesn’t allow Eisuke to be very open about his feelings from the start. In case you’re confused, hang in there and let me explain Taki’s side to help you understand better. Now, Taki is MC’s ex. Someone who was very in love with her. Still is. He knows what it’s like to lose the MC, for he had already lost her once, and would do anything and everything to NOT lose her again. Thus, he is relatively more open with his emotions. He let’s her know how much he loves her, values her, cares for her, because he doesn’t want to let her go again, ever.

7. Okay, Let’s Be Direct Eisuke is a very “actions speak louder than words” person. He isn’t very open with his emotions, heck he doesn’t even say “i love you” till MC demands it out of him lmao. He is very indirect in terms of expressing what he feels for the MC, even in his later stories, and it takes time for him to come to terms with the word “love”, in general. If you look at Taki, he has been very direct from the start. Even in high school when he confessed to MC he went “I like you.” and in his MS when MC asked him why he kissed her, he said “Because I love you.” right on her face. He has always been direct with expressing himself, so that leaves a much smaller scope when it comes to him coming to terms with feelings like love and care, et cetera.

8. Different Premises Now, this might be the last point I touch upon. The thing is, both KBTBB and KoP are set in VERY different themes. In KBTBB, the MC is a normal person with a fulfilling life, she gets sold in the auctions, meets the auction managers and her journey starts from there. In KBTBB, MC has to mainly deal with the stress that comes with throwing herself into the dangerous life Eisuke and the other lead, and apart from that her life doesn’t really have much of an angst. In the sense, that none of the action managers have to actually deal with the MC and her emotions, per say. In KoP, the MC goes through a divorce which basically leaves her mentally shattered. She self-doubts and and constantly keeps worrying about what did she do wrong which made things end up the way they did. Here, while the KoP guy and and MC fall in love, it’s also about helping MC realise what happened was not her fault entirely. It’s about connecting deeper, much deeper, on an emotional level with the MC, which gives Taki a sort of a head start when it comes to character development in terms of bonding with the MC. ... I hope that made sense lol

That was a LONG response, not gonna lie, and I’m so sorry for being late with this! But, I hope I was successful in showing you my side of things on this debate. 

Thanks a lot for the ask! <3

[vipers-hat]

‘ i’ve got you. just stay awake. can you do that for me? ’ :D

Combined with #86 “Fine, make me worry about you” from @jackalopestride. This is garbage but HERE YOU GO ANYWAY

John Seed x Deputy Nic Raylan

Save You

“Things could be worse, you know. Here, you just have to Confess. In the East well… let’s just say too much Bliss can go to ones’s head. Faith created her angels… but she never did treat them all that well.”

John Seed tapped on his desk irritably. Why the Hell had he ever worded that like a challenge? He had opened his fucking mouth, gone and done that, and she had accepted.

And now… he hadn’t heard from or about Deputy Raylan in days.

The last time he had seen her was their second in-person meeting. He had realized she was Wrath. It had been so obvious. After countless Baptisms, Confessions, Atonements he had yet to find someone who shared his cardinal sin. But of course, it ended up being her that shared it. The only one who could understand him, the only one who had the same ticks, the same drive. Hell, she was his soulmate in a strange way, as far as he was concerned.

And so he had told his people to keep an eye out for her, and if she was in Faith’s territory, leave her be, but the second she crossed back into the Valley, bring her back alive and unharmed.

Things had started that simple.

One of his snipers had called it in first. She was crossing over by the railway station, apparently trying extremely hard to keep a low profile. It was almost cute. He had given her a five-minute head start before he had retrieved his radio and switched to the station he knew she frequented. “Deputy. It’s good to know you’re back home. Must I give you a lecture on Atonement again?”

“Sure, Johnny Boy. But do me a favor and drop the phone sex operator voice. You’re doing yourself no favors, and it’s hurting your cause. Now I’m gonna keep this fucking radio off for an hour to get some peace and fucking quiet, thanks.”

John scoffed, then leaned back, waiting for her to go back on her word.

But she didn’t, for a solid couple of minutes. There was the sound of her boots walking along the pavement, varying animal life, distant gunshots and general wind noise.

After five more minutes of it, it started to feel like hours so John changed the frequency briefly to see what else he could find. When that proved equally fruitless, he switched back to her frequency, only to find it silent again. He pressed the talk button. “Ohhh, Deputy…!”

The returning click was almost immediate. “CALL YOUR FUCKING PEOPLE OFF, JOHN, HOLY SHIT!”

He scoffed again. “Now why would I do that when you’re being unreasonable?” he shot back. “I just wanna talk.”

There was something in the background getting louder by the second. He figured she had just wandered into a fight or a Chosen training zone. She enjoyed doing that.

“Fine then, let’s fucking talk, but CALL OFF YOUR-”

The sound got louder and it took John a moment to recognize it was a car engine from beyond the static. A screech followed, a solid, loud ‘thunk’ and then nothing. All the noises cut out because the line went dead.

John’s head swam for a moment. It had sounded like- no. No. He had told his people to bring her in unharmed. They wouldn’t have- she wouldn’t have been stupid enough to…? He jammed his finger into the talk button again. “Deputy?” when there was still silence for a few seconds, he tried again, firmer: “Deputy!”

Seconds of silence ticked by like hours, and fear that he had just failed Joseph again through no fault of his own seeped into his bones. Had she been injured? Was she alive? Did he still have a stake in all this? He sat back. “Deputy,” he tried a third time. Still nothing. “Fine, don’t say anything and make me worry.”   It was a stupid thing to say considering she was probably worse for wear, but it helped him. She had more fight in her, she would be fine.  She was probably keeping quiet on purpose to mess with him since she knew how invested in her conversion he was.

The radio crackled to life and he felt his breath catch hopefully-

“Brother John… we uh… we have a problem.”

And his heart sank at the new voice that was very much not hers. He was up and out of his chair before he had even registered that he had moved, already charting a route on how to get to the railway station fastest.

He had gotten in his car and booked it there, dimly aware of the fact that the frequency had buzzed a couple of times but there had been a sharp, hushed hiss and something that sounded like ‘don’t’ before it went out again.

He didn’t need to be in the area long to know just where something had gone wrong. There was a car in the gutter of the main road, just past the old Grain Elevator. And there was his entire capture party crowded around something, looking down.

The closer he got, the more details came into view. The truck had a few spots of blood on its hood, and the pavement was streaked with it in a couple of spots. His people were standing around something and looking down, a hissed conversation he couldn’t make out going on between them. Whatever they were standing around was large but not noticeably big- too big to be a deer, to small to be a bear.

No.

One of his men spotted him and backed up seemingly in a panic and the others followed suit- and John’s heart skipped a beat.

His fear was confirmed, laying there utterly unmoving on the pavement. There was no mistaking Deputy Raylan’s hair and frame, as bloodied as the latter was.

He rushed to her, far too quickly than he should’ve, and his followers parted not unlike the red sea in his wake. He knelt beside her, too relieved when he saw her eyes flick towards him from behind her hair. He pushed it aside to look at her, then surveyed the rest of the damage. By the looks of it her legs had taken the brunt of the damage, completely bloodied. At least one of them had to be broken. The pavement had scraped one arm to high Hell, and she had a decent gash on her forehead.  “Can you move?” he asked before he could stop himself. Her eyebrow furrowed at that, and he had never been so relieved to see the look of absolute spite that passed in her eyes. “Forgive the poor question, but I do hope you know what I mean.”

She gave him a grunt in response.

He saw her fingers curl out of the corner of his eye and he looked back to see her try to move her leg, only to stop short and yelp, though it was as weak as the grunt had been.

Still, good. Better.

“You’re coming with me,” he told her, and then almost laughed when that got another muted jolt out of her entire body. “Relax, Deputy. You forget that I’m the reasonable one in my family. My brother’s so desperate to have you in our ranks, I will make sure it’s entirely willing. You’ve got to be of sound mind and body for that. I’ll take care of you.”

She whined again.

“Hush now. You’ve got plenty of arguing left in you. I plan to still fight you on this every step of the way until I win fairly. You’ve just got to hang in there for it.”

There was another protesting grunt on her part, but halfway through her eyes drifted shut and her entire body went limp.

John leaned back. “Deputy?” he nudged her carefully. “I’ve got you. just stay awake. can you do that for me? Deputy!”  

There was no response this time. He stared at her back for a while to find it wasn’t rising or falling. No. No no no.  He checked her pulse and found it slow and weak, either. Not like this. She had just been awake. She was a fighter. She was The fucking Deputy. She couldn’t go out like this. She was supposed to keep giving him a run for his money instead of joining them. She was supposed to give him a fucking purpose. She wasn’t supposed to die then.  He doubted God would allow it. He glanced up and nearly scoffed when he saw the Word of Joseph on the horizon. The statue’s back was turned towards them at that angle, and John couldn’t help but feel that was a sign and it had a far deeper meaning than he would’ve liked, too, even if it was just mere chance that it had happened there.  

He waited a few seconds and checked her pulse again for good measure and still found nothing.

He looked back at his people as he finally realized how bad that must’ve made him look: panicked about the enemy, even if it was common knowledge Joseph needed her in their ranks. Still, even some of the worry about her faded into annoyance with them. How hard was it to follow one simple instruction? How could they fail so spectacularly? He rose to his feet carefully and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was abundantly clear in my instructions. I told you to bring the Deputy in alive and unharmed as possible,” he pointed out. “So where in those simple little brains of yours did that translate to bouncing her off the FUCKING HOOD OF YOUR TRUCK?!”

There were five mumbled responses he couldn’t make out, and he was convinced they all thought he was going to kill them.

Any other time, they probably would have been right. “Call Doctor Stevenson in my bunker, tell him we’ve got the Deputy incoming,” When no one moved, he threw his hands out, hoping they all thought he was going for a weapon to get them to fucking move. “NOW!”

Thankfully they caught the hint that time around and scrambled back to their bloodied truck to make a call.

John turned his attention back to the Deputy and sighed deeply before he picked her up carefully. “You don’t get to die on me now, Wrath….” he groaned at her absolute dead weight and tried not to focus too much on it. He loaded her into the co-passenger seat of his car.

It was a tense drive back to the bunker, but Doctor Stevenson was already waiting outside with two Project members in tow, and they immediately carted her away once they got to the front of the building.

John had every intent on following her in to make sure the doctor and anybody else who interfered didn’t make the same mistake his capture party did, but he was nearly immediately confronted with people asking about five other tasks and he had no choice but to return to his duties.

Joseph had radioed him during the stretch, citing that he had ‘heard news of the Deputy’ and asking if everything was alright. John had merely switched off the radio. He didn’t want to admit to his big brother that he was a disappointment all over again. He had failed as much as he possibly could. Joseph would surely deny him Eden then. He needed to prepare to face him first.

He had made it a couple of hours before he managed to slip into the medical wing. Doctor Stevenson had been less than thrilled to see him and went out of his way to make sure a table was between them at the very least.

It turned out to be for good reason.

She had died on his table about ten minutes after they had put her on it.

John could hear the phantom sound of Gates shutting in his face, could imagine the disappointed look on Joseph’s face that seemed to be a constant lately, and now it would surely be permanent.

Wrath was gone. He was completely and utterly alone.

As his world was spinning, however, he could only make out a few words from one of Stevenson’s assistants:

“- Managed to get her back, though. It’s good we got that equipment from the clinic. She’s resting now. I’ll have to tell the-”

John snapped back to attention after that. He didn’t wait for further details. He just marched through the door between the main area and the main exam room.

Wrath was there, bandaged nearly head to toe, clammy and out cold, but alive and breathing- slowly, but breathing all the same.

Wrath was okay, at least for the moment. And now she was going to pull through. She had to. For his sake and for her Resistance’s sake, as much as it pained him to think. She put her blood sweat and tears into her cause, she wasn’t one to abandon it.

It was a marvel he was still trying to get her away from the cause.  He half expected her to get up within seconds and make a break for it. It was that idea, as ludicrous and hopeful as it was, that had him pulling up a chair and dropping into it to look after her.

It was a precaution, nothing more. Nothing at all. He had dozed off at some point, only waking once when something creaked, he opened his eyes and could’ve sworn he could make out Joseph’s silhouette in the doorway and then he was out cold again.

The next few days had passed the same. He’d do his duties and return to her side.

It was the fifth day of the pattern when he noticed her watching his every movement from half-lidded eyes. He made eye contact with her and she averted her eyes downward quickly. He smiled to himself, then turned around, grateful he had spent the previous hour marking new converts. He had the tattoo gun on hand, and he went out of his way to put it just inside her eyeline.

Her eyes went wide at that and she pushed herself up and away from him as much as she could, considering the state of her arms. 

He grinned, going out of his way to look plain smug and immediately set the tattoo gun down.

It took her a matter of seconds to realize it had been a ruse, much like the knife sharpener had been during her confession. “Dick,” she said, though it came out scratchy and weak.

“It’s not my fault you’re an easy target,” he countered.

Nicolette glanced down at herself. “Clearly not.”

Okay, so that had been a poor choice of words. “To get a rise out of,” he clarified. He leaned forward. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for this to happen.”

“Liar.”

“Not to you,” he replied, far too quickly and honest-sounding for his liking. And judging by something flashing in her eyes for a second, he realized she thought so, too. “I want to save you, Deputy.”

“Yeah, well, we both know I’m not gonna cave to this. Should’ve just let me die.”

“Never,” he said, quickly and honestly again. “You’re far too important to the Project. To Joseph.” To me.

“Why?”

Because we’re the same. I need you. “Because Joseph sees you with us in the future. Sees you doing great things for us. That’s good enough for me.”

“Not for me,” she replied.

“Which is why you’re still here. Because I’ll be here waiting for you when it is.”

She scoffed, then hissed in pain for her trouble. “You’ll be waiting forever.”

“If that’s what it takes, Deputy.”

She huffed at that, and the effort it took her to not look like she was in horrible pain when she attempted to cross her arms over her chest, immediately gave up and settled for clenching her fists was adorable.

“Rest up. I’m sure you’ll find a way to escape before long.” He gave her ankle a surprisingly gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Bet on it,” she replied, and immediately pulled her leg away.

He merely offered another tight-lipped, ‘challenge accepted’ smile before he got up and left.

It only took her another four days to escape. Someone had dropped a knife near her bedside- or slipped her one. She had taken apart the albeit shitty pair of handcuffs they had used to keep her, picked the lock into the main hallway and made it to the exit during afternoon worship. If he hadn’t seen her in action and expected the dramatics and sheer dumb luck on her side and therefore seen it coming, he would’ve been infuriated. 

Two months later, he called her to the church for her Atonement.

Their dogfight ended in far less destruction than he expected. She chased him on foot, tackled him to the floor, punched him in the jaw, yanked the key off his neck… and told him to leave, and that ‘they were even now.’

He didn’t listen, of course. He went back to Joseph, because what else could he do?

Joseph wasn’t as angry as expected. He promised John there would ‘be more time’ and that had been that.

Another two months later, the world ended. John had been checking on inventory in the bunker beneath Joseph’s church when the entire thing had shaken. His imagination filled in the blanks- especially when Joseph had shown up with Nicolette draped over his shoulders and had set her down on a bed in the dorms, because apparently, the man thought that was a smart idea.  

He had been looking in on her the next day when she woke up, and he had to mentally kick himself for thinking she looked relieved at his presence for a moment. He wasn’t allowed that honor. 

However, in the weeks that followed, she made sure to wedge herself between the wall and John if he and Joseph were sitting together and Joseph requested her presence.  Before long she was leaning into him, and he leaned back to provide any anchor he could. Maybe he had earned it, after all. 

He knew she’d fight him every step of the way and keep him from saving her from their absolution, but if saving her from discomfort was all he could get, he’d gladly take it.

[justin-chapmanswers]

I'm helping my (internet) friends make an object show, and I'm unfortunately not that confident about it, as we're all under 18 and don't have the money to really afford good quality mics or animation software. I'm wondering if you have any tips for people on a budget trying to make an object show for the first time?

Working under a tight budget is tough, that’s undeniable. I think the important thing to keep in mind is that having expensive utilities available does not guarantee success in the first place, it simply makes the process easier. Having the best equipment and software in the world isn’t going to do all that much for people who aren’t familiar with the basics in the first place. If you are incredibly passionate about this work, I would consider investing your money into equipment over time, but for the time-being take your time in that department and really focus in on proving that, as artists, you can make do with what you have.

I am far more interested in consuming media that is bare-bones in its visual and audio presentation but has masterful storytelling than the reverse, and I think much more of your potential audience will agree than the average person assumes. Know your story. Know your characters. Whether or not you will have full control over when your characters come and go (per your decision), it is imperative that you treat each and every installment as its own distinct collection of story and character arcs. If you set up your show in a manner in which you can play every detail out ahead of time, even better! Within an episode, an arc of episodes, or a full season/series you are able to construct interesting narratives in which characters are given obstacles: physical, emotional or otherwise. Especially in an object show you are given a set of obstacles, be it through challenges or the emotional burden of competition. On a budget or not, this is the heart of your show. No matter how the technical presentation comes across you can garner and audience through excellent storytelling. Anyone can do it with practice. ESPECIALLY you!

As for the technical department, itself, let’s talk audio. Back in early 2009 I picked up a ‘lil $10 Logitech microphone at Target and got started on my first voice performance (as Lakitu found here) and I wouldn’t say it’s all that bad. A little bad. Tiny bit. But it worked! Plug in a cheap mic, download Audacity for free, and you’re already well on your way. Audacity isn’t top-of-the-line, but as far as free programs go it works really well, and is probably your lowest priority for upgrading beyond if you choose to bump up your equipment/software. The focus here comes down to putting in a strong, meaningful performance as your character, working around your mic limitations through setup and Audacity editing, and being open to re-recording. It happens!

I’m going to skip over talking vocal performances for the time being (I can always return to that upon request) and stick the practical here. With any microphone set up you’re going to want to do as much as you can to keep your accosting integrity in good standing. What I mean by that, firstly, is recording in a location that absorbs noise. Typically being in echo-y locations, we’re trained to ignore our own voices reverberating (unless it is to an intense extent), so sometimes noticing whether a voice echoes in a recording takes a lot of focus. It’s often not as intense as an echo you’d hear in, say, a cave, just ever so slight to break the illusion of a character being right there on screen and not someone speaking through a microphone. This is solved low-budget quite simply in recording in tight spaces with as much sound-absorbing material as possible. The best option would be hanging up clothes, blankets, or simply recording in a closet- so long as it’s safe. (The higher-budget alternative is buying acoustic foam or utilizing, specifically, a sound booth.) Watch your recording program, find your balance of recording as loudly and clearly as you can while also not getting too close to your audio peaking (the little soundy wave bois not hitting the top/bottom of your recording strip pal). The audio can be made louder or softer later, but peaking is much tougher to fix back up.

It also helps to have any sort of make-shift pop filter you can get together. They’re foam or a screen that you can typically buy cheap that will catch some of the plosives and other weird noises your mouth makes without you noticing before they hit the microphone, which is very helpful in the longterm. And, if you don’t feel like buying them, I know Adam used a sock for a while early on and it worked just fine. Just throw that boi right over the microphone and listen back to how the quality changes. If it’s roughly the same, you’re in the clear for your early, low-budget project.

There’s also plenty that can be done in Audacity to set your audio apart from the rest. I’d say top priority is dealing with background noise. I’m not speaking to parents chatting or the house’s floorboards mysteriously creaking in the background (because that should not be heard whatsoever in your area of recording, listen back to a dialogue-less track of your audio to make sure none of that is coming through), here I am talking to the consistent track of buzzzzz or variation that will come across in any cheaper microphone. The world makes noise, some you can’t hear, and your microphone eats it up. It’ll be in the back of your recording track, and getting rid of it goes a long way. Here the simplest means of going about fixing that is to, at the very start or end of your recording session, record a solid fifteen seconds of background noise without aaaaany noises on your part. Listen back, grab just the few seconds of bg noise that has the most consistent sound without your breathing or other interference, go to effects and hit “noise reduction” (or “noise removal” in other versions), hit “get noise profile,” now highlight eeeeeverything you’ve recorded, go back to “noise removal,” start by setting your noise reduction to around 10-15, and hit “okay.” Listen back and see if that did the job, you may need to make the number a bit higher (I try my best to avoid the 20s). The job here is to use as little of it as possible to get the job done, as the more you use the more of a chance it has at diminishing the quality of your recording. You can also use “equalization” in this process, lowering or boosting very specific frequencies, if you are willing to experiment and get a feel for it. Some others use “compression” to get a much fuller-sounding voice, although if anything I keep this to a minimum and save it more-so for non-narrative pieces where a single voice needs to be dominant.

In the case of audio peaking, clipping, or any plosives/pops/background sounds coming through, you have to be comfortable with re-recording. Going back into your recording spot for a minute goes a long way for a product that you’ll be putting up alone for a forever. This also goes for potentially going in for a strong performance, but that is more subjective and up to a standard you must set, yourself. After that it is your job to bring all the audio from all characters together and balance all of them out neatly volume-wise, pace the recordings out, add in sound effects and music as necessary and balance them out too (a common mistake is making music too loud for the audience to understand what the characters are saying because the sound editor already knows what the characters are saying, so there’s a disconnect). With enough time you will have an excellent audio skeleton for your animation, even with a low budget.

I’ll be honest in that I am much less experienced in animation than I am in audio so I cannot offer all the advice in the world, but here’s what I can say. With the technology available today you are able to create a lot of striking imagery. Whether you use a cheap animation program (do people still use Anime Studio?), Powerpoint, or a more typical program acquired through illegal means (which I would not say here that I condone, but I am aware it happens and people do what people do), there is no stopping you from coming up with unique visuals. I think in the object show community people get pretty caught up in keeping up standard animation conventions, simply making smooth motions and a good frame-rate and making sure everything looks “professional.” That is a luxury, and especially when you are starting out it is far from necessary.

What you want when you are starting out are visuals that are striking. Creative. Memorable. You’re working in animation, the most fluid and fun medium out there! You can spend all day getting bogged down in the basics of movement, which can be important down the line, but what is unique to you is the style that you bring to the table. Make characters do what only animated characters can do. Make characters pose in ways that people can think back on in wonder. As an object show, think of challenges that make characters do the absurd or push them to physical limits. Inanimate Insanity does not get to hit on this often but it is something I value in animation. You can impress people with or without the best animation program in town, it’s just more trying. But far more rewarding.

So much of the magic of object show community is that it works as a training grounds. Create create create! This is the time to do the weird and meaningful things that you might not have an opportunity to create far down the line when responsibilities get in the way. It doesn’t matter in the slightest if your work is perfect, so long as you are creating something and getting it out there and, above all, expressing yourself- I am impressed.

I know that most of this has been more to general show production and not more specifically to object show production, but I think it is important to note that it does work the same as any other show. People will always appreciate good, strong stories, as well as the bare minimum put into your audio and visuals. Effort means the world.

You got this.

[for-f0rever]

i saw Dear Evan Hansen for the second time on December 17 at the 3pm show, and figured I’d write a recap on it/comparisons between MLB and the show the first time and Noah/the show the second time! 

i apologize in advance that this is so long! I’ll put it in a read more because i tend to ramble a lot and figured maybe people don’t want to read this because it’s probably going to be long? so you don’t have to scroll forever just to see this! but if you have any specific questions or you just want to talk about it you can always ask them i’m so willing to answer anything! :)

i write notes on my phone on the way home from shows i see every time, so i’m going to go through them and kind of make them more coherent for you guys :) i have one about MLB’s performance as well, so if anyone wants that i can do this again :)

starting with the theater:

the Music Box is honestly one of the most gorgeous theaters i’ve been to. It’s small in my opinion, but so intimate that i can honestly say wherever you sit is a good seat. I was in the mezzanine the first time around (like three row from the last row in the theater), and the orchestra this time, and both times i felt like i could feel everything just as well both times. the theater really lends itself to immersing you in the show and the storyline without feeling disconnected.

the show:

Act 1

there were no understudies on :)

in the opening when Evan is saying why it’s going to be a good day and why he shouldn’t have to worry, Noah pauses a lot, thinking about what he’s going to say. he puts a lot of emphasis on certain words but he was so funny about it and definitely played the part so well, i really believed how anxious he was about having a good day and just being himself and not worrying about anything

When Heidi enters, she spent a lot of time rubbing his back/shoulder and trying to encourage him that this year will be great. it felt so intimate if that makes sense? i’m not sure, it just felt like she was really rooting for him/was just as invested in him having a good year as she wishes he was

when the Murphy’s enter, Connor is playing with the spoon in his hand, generally looking high and not listening. Zoe bounces her leg uncontrollably like she’s constantly on edge by her family, and Larry is scrolling through his phone not paying attention.

when Cynthia says that Connor has to go to school, Mike leaned his head back to look at her, and kind of rested his head against her arm. I don’t know if it’s intentional or not (the first time i saw it i was off to the left and so i couldn’t see the angle i was at this time, but it was a cute thing i noticed and i’m not sure that it happens every time)

when Connor says fuck you to Zoe and Cynthia denies that he’s high Mike does this little smile that is so funny and cute at the same time before he storms off

Laura rolls her eyes when she says if Connor isn’t ready she’s going to leave without him

Will is INCREDIBLE at making things feel lighthearted when they seem to be getting too intense, and he starts right away like i love it.

Kristolyn delivers her lines so perfectly and when she’s talking to Evan on the first day of school you can’t help but laugh at how awkward things are

When Jared says Connor’s new hair length is very school shooter chic, Connor looks up with the huge smile on his face like he can’t believe he just said it.

He pushes Evan to the ground so hard (because i was so close i could hear a lot of the sounds on the stage that i didn’t hear before, and Mike’s hands slammed pretty hard into Noah’s chest. it didn’t seem like it hurt, but damn it sounded like it did) (also to be fair mike did slap his own leg, chest, arm quite a bit and he did it just as hard as he hit noah)

i was so impressed by Noah’s vocals the whole show? i wrote like in the notes that WTAW was incredible but? the whole show i was just so impressed by how great he was. i didn’t expect much mostly because i didn’t know much about him and i don’t know, but i definitely was blown away by him singing and playing this part that is so hard

when Connor goes to sign Evan’s cast and grabs his arm roughly, Noah yelps much louder than MLB did, which isn’t a bad thing, it’s just a little difference between the two

also when he asks Evan how he broke his arm and Evan says he fell out of a tree Connor says “that’s the saddest fucking thing i ever heard, oh my god” and kind of laughs. in this show when Mike laughed he didn’t even finish the word god he just sort of laughed through it, smiled and shook his head

at the end of For Forever, Cynthia just grabs Evan and hugs him so tight while thanking him a million times. it takes Evan a moment before he hugs back

will sincerely, me ever not be a bop? Noah and Mike definitely looked like they were having so much fun doing it, they were smiling and laughing at each other during the dance parts. also Will’s laugh in this song gives me life it’s so funny

Connor does this little smile after “dude i’m proud of you” and like points to himself and it’s so cute

when Connor says “my sister’s hot” Noah’s version of “what the hell” is more annoyed than horrified that Jared would write that 

when they’re going through the bridge of sincerely, me, Evan like awkwardly grabs Connor’s arms when he says “dear connor murphy i’m just glad to be your friend” except Noah? rubbed Mike’s nipples? i collapsed

this isn’t specific to this point in the show, but Will mimics the pitch of Noah’s voice a lot when he’s mocking Evan, and it’s hilarious

Laura cried during requiem when she crumples the emails in her hand, Cynthia sobs into Connor’s pillow. she just holds it and rocks back and forth. Larry mostly just tries to hold it together

Evan got flustered a lot during If I Could Tell Her (fidgeting with his cast, his collar, really everything)

During Disappear when they’re telling the Murphy’s their plan Jared tries to butt in and Evan holds his arm out to stop him and Jared just looks upset that he’s not as included

When Cynthia tells Evan that Connor hadn’t been invited to a single bar mitzvah she is so upset and trying not to cry at the thought when she’s giving Evan the tie

in between Evan’s speech and the beginning of YWBF Evan drops his notecards and falls to the ground and has a borderline panic attack trying to collect himself in front of everyone. Noah portrays this INCREDIBLY well, it made me feel like he really was having a panic attack and my heart hurt just watching him struggle to breathe and shaking (side note his shoe fell off? i cannot for the life of me remember that happening to MLB, so i’m not sure that was planned)

during the bridge of YWBF baby pictures of Connor flash on the screen and Larry is center stage looking up at them. he breaks down, stumbling over with his hands on his knees, just crying. Cynthia runs over and embraces him, holding him tight as they both sob. (i could hear both JLT and Michael Park just sobbing holding each other and it was so heartbreaking)

Act 2

the first song is a sincerely, me reprise, and Will and Mike were making each other laugh so much when they were doing it it was funny. (when they say hey to each other they both did really weird voices omfg). when Evan interrupts them and says Jared can’t make things up Jared pushes Connor off the stage

during to break in a glove, Larry bites his lip to try to stop himself from getting emotional just after “you’re just trying to do your best to a kid who’s lost control”

Evan finally invites Zoe over, and when she says they need to talk he’s scared she’s breaking up with him and rambles about how he doesn’t even know if they’re dating officially. she stops him and says she’s not breaking up with him, and he reaches out and rests his hands on her arm and is like “thank you” and she laughs and does it back to him and goes “you’re welcome” it’s so awkwardly hilarious

during only us Zoe just seems so appreciative of Evan? they were super cute

the scene where the Murphy’s offer Evan Connor’s scholarship money for college is so tense and awkward that you can’t help but feel something watching it. it’s so beautifully written and acted out, but god is it tough to watch

Evan and Heidi’s fight just after is SO TENSE. Evan almost slips up and calls the Murphy’s his family, which sets Heidi off. It’s insanely tense to watch, but RBJ and Noah play this so well and I was in love

Evan says that he’s a burden to her, and Heidi gets emotional and yells about how he’s the one good thing that’s ever happened to her

good for you is also a bop, and the whole thing is just pinning Evan in the middle so he can’t escape thinking about what he’s done. it’s so claustrophobic the way they pin him in

during good for you Evan says to Jared that they’re only friends so Jared’s parents will pay for his car insurance and Jared is just so hurt and says “fuck you, Evan! Asshole!” and runs off. it kind of feels like the first time Jared really has a huge problem with Evan.

just after good for you is a Connor/Evan scene, where Connor tries to get Evan to keep the lie going. Evan wants to just end it all, but Connor says he can’t. I love Mike Faist with my whole heart and i’m definitely biased, but good god is he incredible. each time he’s on stage you can’t help but watch him, but this scene is where he shines. He is so set on Evan keeping the lie going, letting his parents believe all these things about him.

Connor gets Evan to admit that he’s lying to himself about how he broke his arm, and the whole thing is so intense. i’m definitely overusing that word but i don’t know what else to say about it.

during the for forever reprise Connor cries while he’s singing, he starts crying just before with his little speech (”you can get rid of me whenever you want...”

the buildup to Evan revealing the lie to the Murphy’s is almost anxiety-inducing. you can sense something is coming, you know it’s going to be intense and earth-shattering, but nothing prepares you for the way Evan yells “he didn’t write it!” and the silence that falls over everyone before he says “i wrote it” while sobbing.

Cynthia SOBS during Words Fail. Not small sobs, but covering her mouth, breaking down, unable to control herself sobs

Connor comes out and stares at Evan during Words Fail just before “this was just a sad invention” and he just looks so sad and broken that someone could do this and admit the lie to the family that was struggling so much

the scene just after where Heidi and Evan are talking on the sofa is heartbreaking. you can see how broken Heidi is that she had no idea how much her son was hurting. Evan says “if you had any idea how broken i am” after he says she’d hate him if she knew, Heidi says “I already know you, and i love you” and god, her face when she says it. i can’t even describe how emotional she is.

RBJ’s vocals speak for themselves in this song, i can’t write anything that would even come close to doing them justice

during so big/so small Evan flings himself at Heidi, and god, she holds onto him so tight, rubbing his back, singing to him, rocking back and forth

when he pulls away she rubs her thumbs along his cheeks, trying to force his mouth into a smile, wiping his tears away. it’s just so soft and motherly and caring and it’s all a bit much for me to handle through my own sobs and tears

when Zoe and Evan meet at the orchard Zoe gets choked up when she says “it’s been...it’s been a really tough year” and god, you just feel awful for this poor girl who’s been through so much. she tells Evan about how the orchard saved her parents, how they’re there all the time having picnics, and how everyone needed it for something. Evan tells her how he’s trying to get to know Connor better by reading his 10 favorite books that he listed in a yearbook, but he knows it’s not the same. Zoe tells him it’s something.

Evan asks her why she wanted to meet there just before she leaves, and she says “i wanted to be sure you saw this”, and his face is just so hopeful? emotional? a little bit of everything

the finale Evan turns around to face the cast, and they’re all emotional/smiling and the screens turn from blue to this orangey-purple to mimic a sunset, and it is GORGEOUS

during bows Will and Jennifer hug and Will said something to make Jennifer laugh. Mike and Kristolyn hugged, then Mike hugged Michael. When Jennifer and Michael were running out Jennifer said something and both of them died laughing and then Mike and Kristolyn laughed at them. Rachel walked over to Jen and held her hand, and then Noah ran out and they all smiled and clapped for him.

differences between MLB and Noah/the show the first and second time around

i can confirm that even if you know what’s coming, you’re still going to cry! i definitely did!

i genuinely cannot pick who i liked better between MLB and Noah. Going in I had no opinions on Noah, but i knew he had a lot to live up to because MLB just blew me away at how talented he was in this role. Noah definitely brings something different, but it’s a good different that’s so believable that you just can’t help but immerse yourself in the story the same way between the two

overall, there’s little blips that are different. Noah has a litlte bit more of a confident side with Evan at points, whereas MLB definitely played him a little more shy, a little more anxious. again, NOT a bad thing, just something a little different.

Noah’s rambling has a few more pauses, some vocal intonations that rise and fall, and Michael was more a quick talker with more emphasis on some words.

i loved both of them and felt like they both did such an incredible job, and if you’re seeing either of them you’re in for a treat! both of them bring this role so much depth and do this character justice, and i’m just so proud of both of them?

there really isn’t much i can say about the differences between the shows, because i think it’s so consistent show to show that there isn’t much that changes. maybe little moments between the actors on stage where they smile or laugh at each other, but the acting was all virtually the same -- so gut-wrenchingly emotional, hilarious, and incredible all at once.

this has nothing to do with anything, and maybe i’m biased, but JLT deserved a tony nom. good god, this woman spends 85% of the show crying, and your heart breaks for her and god, she brings it to a level that you just understand how heartbroken she is over the loss over her son and how she just wants to hang on to the little pieces she has left via Evan. i understand why she wasn’t nominated, but god, i wish she was.

okay, this was far too long i’m so sorry! if you have any questions about parts in the show/MLB and Noah comparisons feel free to send me an ask! i’ll answer whatever, i promise :) like i said earlier i also have a recap of MLB’s performance in my phone if you want something similar to this, please let me know :)

[a-little-slice-of-fandom]

Opinions on Sixway

Don’t worry, they’re mostly positive

So obviously Six made its broadway debut yesterday and I’m so happy for both the queens and for Toby and Lucy. It’s amazing to see how far this production has come since May 2019 and I seriously hope the show continues to grow even more.

Before I start, can I just reiterate that I have no bias towards any cast of Six? Anything I say here are genuine things I’ve noticed and I’m not trying to favour one cast over another.

Things I liked!:

The new costumes for Aragon, Boleyn, Seymour, Cleves and Howard! They’re all just improved versions of their old costumes that are better suited to their body types and more glitzy for broadway. What’s not to love?

In fact, I know this might be an unpopular opinion but I actually really dig Britt’s new Cleves costume and it fits with Britt’s more melodramatic and grandiose version of Cleves, and those make me gayer by every second. Although I don’t really see other versions of Cleves wearing this outfit, I think Britt suits the new additions. And again those boots

THE LIGHTING!!! They seriously must be going for an award at the Tony’s for their lighting, because a) it’s referenced a lot more throughout the show and b) they’re making a lot more use of it during the megasix.

I swear there’s been really small additions to the band arrangements(I come from a musical family so I pick up on these things) but, for lack of a better way of describing it, they’re mostly to do with bulking out the sound of the music than changing the songs (if that makes sense) and they’re actually really good so no complaints here.

The stage didn’t look nearly as big as I worried it would be. The stage in Boston seemed so massive but this one doesn’t seem nearly as big, which is good because sometimes big stages with smaller shows don’t work well together. It’s bigger than the arts, but nowhere near as big as the Sydney opera house so 🤷🏻‍♀️

The queens are just so confident. There’s no broadway nerves in sight and that’s great. Seeing how far they’ve come from the first sixcago performance only a few months ago is amazing and I’m so happy for all of them. From the moment they step on from Ex-wives they own the stage and kill it.

This is more of a general US observation but I like it so I’ll mention it but Andrea’s very quick and snappy as Boleyn. She’s not waiting about to think of her insults, she’s saying them really rapid fire and without hesitating. It offsets Abby’s more awkward and apologetic version of Seymour and just works as a good contrast between the two.

Also the queens backing up Andrea in DLUH seem so personally invested/offended by everything she does. Like almost screaming “WHAT?” And sounding so confused at “YOU’RE LIVING WITH HIS WIFE”. Idk if there’s like anything to analyse here but idk I liked it so I’m mentioning it. Deal with it.

Heart of Stone made me cry. ‘Nuff said.

THEY WENT FOR HOH AND I’M HERE FOR IT. IT IS SO FUCKING LOUD AND SO OVER-EXAGGERATED AND ITS AMAZING!

(in fact everything is louder and more over-exaggerated which was definitely needed for this bigger theatre imo)

“But we cannot guarantee that you’ll still walk at forty :)” Miss Abby Mueller you never fail to deliver on that line.

Wow I really love Brittney Mack.

That’s it.

That’s the point.

Okay but real talk her Cleves was always so melodramatic but they’ve taken this to the next level and I’m for it. Idk what exactly she does at the “take my fur” bit for Get Down but the crowd went WILD so I can’t wait to find out!

I think there’s been small, subtle changes to the backing vocals of AWYD but they really work. Plus, I’m a massive fan of the more angry and betrayed Howard’s in general so Sam delivers as always. She’s the only Howard I know to literally cry on multiple occasions and I love her for it.

I just hope we get more Mallory Howard’s in future because I’d love to hear her rendition of AWYD.

The argument after AYWD makes it seem seem like the queens are 30 seconds from ripping each other apart. Like they’re all at the end of their sanity and about to explode and honestly? I think that works more for the American queens.

That random fucking cowbell before IDNYL. It literally made me cry with laughter and makes me wonder what the fuck Parr’s original song was going to be. I know they’re still in preview stage for the show so I’m excited to see if any more extra lines or gags like these are added into the show as time goes on.

In fact that cowbell features at other points too I think, along with extra cymbals. And they crack me up. Seriously they’re so random.

Speaking of IDNYL, Anna seemed to be leaning into the softer side of Parr than she usually would and I’m here for it! US Six always had a more melodramatic than friendly Cleves and a more angry Howard, but something is needed to offset these characteristics. A softer, more insecure Parr is exactly what’s needed here.

Also the extra beats (idk how to phrase it) in the reprise of IDNYL were a really unexpected change but they work so well. Again, it’s bulking out the sound of the show but in a good way. Nothing seems cluttered which can be an issue when stuff is added to an arrangement.

Bonus mention goes towards the alternates. They haven’t actually done anything (since they weren’t on last night) but I love them so I’m mentioning them anyway.

Things I’m not so sure about:

The playbill/promotional pictures. This sounds so random but like,,,Anna, Adrianna and Brittney look very whitewashed in these pictures, especially Anna. I seriously hope this was just the result of a really really badly chosen filter and nothing more.

The Parr peplum. I genuinely do not understand why they had to change Anna’s costume because it was pefect as it was. The changes to the other costumes? They all make sense to me and I love them. But this...it’s just odd to me. Maybe it’s because I love both Anna and Parr’s OG costume anyway but it’s something I personally dislike and I don’t apologise for my opinion.

Not being allowed to film the megasix... but lets be real here who is actually listening to that rule?

[nightblink]

Blink Reads Oathbringer - Chapters 64-68

In which I adore Lift, Evi Kholin deserves So Much Better (as per usual), and we finally get the full version of that story that Sigzil was trying to tell Kaladin.

Chapter Sixty-Four – Binder of Gods

...now there's a title for you.

Chapter preface is a Stoneward pleading for someone to heal the rift between the Windrunners and Skybreakers tell them to get their heads out of their asses most likely

Ooo, we're coming back to the Honorblade, finally! Do you think you've found someone worthy to entrust it to, Dalinar?

Ishar was the one that founded the Radiants, interesting. One would assume that Jezrien, 'king of the Heralds', was the one to do so, but no, it was the patron of the Bondsmiths. Makes sense, in that they're all 'bound' by their Oaths, but that's also an aspect of Honor in general.

[snorts] Dalinar cursing by the Stormfather's name and him responding is never going to get old.

Shit, Ishar's maybe more crazy than the rest of the Heralds? That's… saying something.

THE GOD-PRIEST OF TUKAR IS AN ACTUAL HERALD. PFFFFFFT-

omg Stormfather pl e a s e they kind of maybe need that information to help save the world. It might be a good thing to know

….a party trick. What can the Surges of the Bondsmiths do, exactly, Stormfather. You've been a Bondsmith-spren before, did your memory of the Surges degrade as if you were any other spren in the Physical Realm without a bond?

OOP, CONNECTION, CONNECTION, HE MENTIONED IT SPECIFICALLY

[rolls eyes] And of course no answer on who/what the other Bondsmith-spren are, even when asked directly. Stormfather's basically giving us a RAFO.

Oh hot damn, actual information on how the highstorms Invest spheres – a function of all three Realms via the power of a Shard, even Shattered. So, while highstorms existed before the Shards got to Roshar, they probably weren't Invested before that point in time. And while Stormfather now is bound with a Splinter of Honor, he can't Invest a gem at will – that power is not within his control.

AYYYY, B4

And you're giving them the Honorblade! YES GOOD YOU'RE TRUSTING PEOPLE WORTHY OF SAID TRUST THIS TIME. It's good reasoning, too.

Once again, Rock is the voice of calm in the storm.

Are you finally going to get Gawx here? Maybe Lift too? Ahh, but at least Fen decided to set foot in Urithiru! Having another monarch at his side will probably help convince the others that Dalinar isn't the warmongering conqueror that he once was.

g od but I love Queen Fen

….Navani's sending him with lunch? I'll bet a fistful of emeralds here and now that Lift's going to eat it.

All this Dalivani PDA! [scandalized gasp]

“They can't draw in Light and become Radiant; they first must be approaching Radiance, and look for Light to fulfill the promise.” That's… a really, really beautiful line.

DUDE. Ordering the angry soldiers like a Highprince, then binding them like a Radiant. Nice.

!!!! New banner? It's traditional to change the shape of the glyphs when a new Highprince takes command? FFFFFFFT, I- Dalinar's is the Tower and Crown, and that pair won't be passed exactly as it is now to Adolin? What about the Main Clan Kholin glyphs rather than the Branch Clan Kholin – the Sword and Crown is Elhokar's, and it wasn't Gavilar's as well then? SANDERSON I NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS, I NEED TO KNOW-

Fuck off, Amaram, even when you're not directly in the scene. Just. Fuck off.

Ahahahahahah, so… about Sadeas' murder…

And off to face the Azish. That 'good luck' didn't sound too ominous.

Chapter Sixty-Five – Verdict

[snickers] This time a Willshaper griping about the rules, as well as the tower itself.

[cackles] They're very, very jumpy, likely because he's Dalinar more than because he appeared from nowhere out of the Oathgate. There are probably oodles of out-of-proportion rumors about him this far west. (Even if they weren't exaggerated, this is still Dalinar – the man who was the Blackthorn.)

[cackles even louder] You're still ingrained in your Vorin ways, even the merest hint of religion intertwined with politics is strange and anathema to you, even if the visiers and scions don't quite serve the same function as ardents.

!!! Spiritual Adhesion! To make Connection! Oooo, we're getting to see some of the unique Surges now!

omg the poor soldier, 'HE'S GOT ME CAPTAIN WHAT DO I DOOOO'

“The warlord speaks Azish?” this entire chapter has me nonstop laughing, I swear

An essay as the weapon of choice. Perfect for the Azish. And of course the Thaylen Queen would suggest to argue for economic benefit.

A second essay. GLORIOUS.

A THIRD ESSAY.

BY JASNAH.

This just keeps getting better and better. I feel like they should get a room alone with Jasnah's essay. Honestly.

Uh oh, buried memories about the Rift are trying to surface again…

Protestors attracting logicspren! I love it.

[winces] The Alethi/Vorin class system is nothing to brag about, Dalinar, even internally and not out loud to the Azish.

I… oh my god, the Azish Parshmen argued by the Azish legal rules. Which makes sense, as they are still Azish, just not human-Azish. Ah! And Dalinar's actually noticing that fact!

Oooo, and now you've got yourself questioning not only the power of the sword versus that of the pen, but also the strict Vorin division of gendered disciplines. Good.

LIFT LIFT LIFT

Lift, how I missed you and your delightful approach to things. You are just the person to state things in blunt terms for Dalinar to confront and mull over.

Speaking of delightful, his description of the Azish decoration is great. Back in Alethkar, Adolin probably sensed his thought and felt a moment of despair.

THERE IT IS – 'TIGHT-BUTT'. Bless u Lift

“And your order?” More food.” I am never going to get tired of their interactions.

AYYY, THEY DECIDED TO ACCEPT HIS OFFER. And with the Prime of Azir are coming all sorts of other leaders. For once, things are actually looking up! (Bets on how long that's going to last, anyone?)

Uh oh. That answer of hers - “an animal” - that triggered a resurging memory.

'He remembered what had happened to Evi.'

Well, fuck.

Chapter Sixty-Six – Strategist

Flashbaaaaack~

...does. does 'strategist' here apply to Tiny Adolin (who, at nearly-thirteen, is probably just about to be not-so-tiny). 'So full of energy.' My little ADHD prince, yessss. Look at this boy, look at him learning so enthusiastically! Attending tactical meetings, soaking up everything Dalinar's trying his best to teach him.

Suffer all the hugs, Dalinar. Suffer them. If anything else, I'm glad that you haven't steered your sons away from hugs.

All these years, and Evi still hasn't acclimated to the cold. How cold is eastern Roshar as opposed to the western side? I know they've got the Frostlands bordering Alethkar to the south and southeast, but what kind of average temperature difference are we talking?

Ohhh, Evi's trying, trying so hard to be a Good Vorin Wife, even if she's not particularly interested in reading and other pursuits that the Alethi expect of a woman. She's given up so much of herself and her people to try to fit in. And with Dalinar out on campaign, she tries to divide her time between wherever he is and Kholinar, but he doesn't let Renarin come along? Because he's 'unfit for battle'? Fucking hell, Dalinar – and oh, Evi, separated from one of her sons or her husband no matter where she is! I can't even imagine the stress she must be going through, trying so hard to make her marriage work and care for her sons, all in this cold land that she ran to, that she still might not even consider home despite all the years spent in Alethkar… She deserves better. Evi deserves better than this.

Dalinar's the 'strategist' referred to by the title, of course. Looks like he's finally settled into more of the role we knew him in at first, even if he's still The Blackthorn rather than The Highprince.

Three years since he and Gavilar last met up face to face? Daaamn. And I'll bet in those intervening years that Gavilar's  become more and more invested in his 'Sons of Honor' goals. It's, what, only about three years until he gets assassinated? He's probably putting plans in motion already to attempt to bring about the next Desolation.

The whatever-was-so-terrible event that happened at the Rift is looming on the horizon. This is going to be more than just 'putting down a rebellion'.

“I doubt we will ever settle back in Kholinar again.” Oh, that's… that's not good.

Shit, she's crying.

Seven years. “Yes, I married a soldier. It's my fault for not being strong enough to deal with the consequences. Thank you, Dalinar. You've made that very clear.”

Oh, Evi.

This has been an argument long in the making. She's put up with so much, set aside her own wellbeing and happiness for his sake, and for what? For what.

(Toh is apparently living in Herdaz. I wonder if he's still there in the present time.)

'The argument was her fault, as were the repercussions.' Oh you fucking brick-headed dumbshit sack of trash. GET OVER HERE SO I CAN PUNCH YOU

Chapter Sixty-Seven – Mishim

[squints] 'Mishim' is the name of one of Roshar's moons, isn't it? Alongside Nomon and Salas. Huh. Maybe this means a nighttime mission?

...a Skybreaker notes that 'this generation has had only one Bondsmith', stating it as a Bad Thing, and speculating that it has something to do with Honor. They didn't say which spren it was – the Stormfather or another – so perhaps this was around the time of Honor's Shattering.

Shallan is shaking off her own murder remarkably well, all things considered. She believes the figure she saw in the mirror to be the presence of the Unmade, though, which I hadn't even considered.

[rolls around in glee at the casual, fond Shadolin physical contact]

[facepalms] Elhokar, you really are stuck in denial at this point. Aesudan is either under the influence of the Unmade or dead at this point; there's really not much of an option that she'd be able to resist it.

Gavinor. For once, you say your son's name. I think this might be the first time we've actually heard you say it.

This all sounds like a fairly sound plan. I'm actually rather impressed; Elhokar is doing much better now than he was before. He's much more stable emotionally and has more confidence in his ideas. A gloryspren at a compliment from Adolin, though? I… huh. He really values his cousin's advice and approval. H e r alds I need to write more exploring these two (my kingdom for an Elhokar RPer, seriously)

He married Aesudan for her strength – because of her ambition, not despite it. I really hope we get some more insight into that whole relationship. Gavilar's marriage to Navani didn't exactly give Elhokar the best example to model his own marriage on, and seven years away at war definitely didn't foster any closeness between them.

(considering his Very Obvious Crush on Kaladin, I still wonder if he's gay and only married for the politics and an heir)

Cultural Note: at the tailor shop for women, there's a woman handling the money and a man doing the tailoring work. Looks like in Alethkar those likely aren't gender-locked roles/professions

So. There's at least one food stockpile in this area. Still don't know where it came from, but it's under the control of a minor lighteyes – one whose soldiers and scribes aren't the best at their jobs.

'Storming lighteyes'. Veil. You may be a personality that Shallan based on her understanding and imagining of a darkeyed Alethi woman but that's still Shallan's perception. Kaladin – and his more-than-justified dislike of lighteyes – you ain't. Be critical of the lord's practices all you want, but remember that you're a lighteyes too. You can't erase that fact.

Those altered angerspren are… thematically appropriate, but also creepy as fuck.

HOID. WIT. WIT WIT WIT

Oh! This is the story that Sigzil was trying to tell! But, true to form, Hoid does it with a vivacity and flair unlike any other.

Interesting – the Rosharans, or at least the Alethi, personify two of the moons as female (Mishim and Salas) and one as male (Nomon).

Wit can Lightweave, and he definitely uses it in some of his storytelling, but this – this is skill of the hand (and maybe something a little extra woven in). He's pretty much immortal, so he's definitely had time to practice!

….what did you see in your pack, Wit. Do you have a Radiant-dar.

HAH. Whether he does or doesn't, he just saw right through Shallan's illusion – either literally or figuratively doesn't matter – and she knows that he knows.

WAIT HOLY SHIT IT'S SHALLAN AGAIN, I JUST REALIZED. WHERE- [flips back a few pages] Wit's voice. She was Veil before that, and as soon as we got 'What was that sound?' she immediately shifts back to Shallan again.

I am loving the mythology behind the Natan people's blue skin. We may not have an actual explanation for that yet – knowing Sanderson, there is one – but I am definitely content for now. We got a Hoid Story, after all, and more cultural worldbuilding on top of that.

“I miss my flute.” GO BUG KALADIN FOR IT ONCE HE GETS BACK

You do have a Radiant-dar. In a jar.

Chapter Sixty-Eight – Aim for the Sun

Coming from a story about one of the moons, now we have a chapter title referencing the sun? (I will not yell about characters I associate with the sun and this being a Shallan chapter, I will not-)

This Elsecaller's recording sounds like it could be Jasnah from another place and time. What is this 'Sibling' that they mention though?

Shallan's observation notes the Alethi proprietor of this place as short, but honestly, for an Alethi, that just means around five-ten to six-foot, right?

I have missed Wit so much. So much.

Ooop, guess you should be taking thieving lessons from him, hmm?

I'm not sure the universe knows why it puts up with you, Hoid, or even if you do yourself.

“The persona...fled once you recognized me.” You mean Veil dissipated when your subconscious realized it was Wit's voice you were hearing – perhaps because of the safety/assurance you associate with him? Because these personas are protecting you – a more solid form of a mask against the world, so that you don't have to deal with things like your lighteyed privilege and lack of knowledge about people and the world in general (Veil) or your trauma regarding Pattern-as-a-Blade and killing your mother with him (Radiant) – once you heard Wit, that mask just wasn't there. There was no transition, nothing. Just… poof.

….I suddenly have a mighty need to hear about these seven time you got mixed up in religion, Hoid.

The way he speaks makes me wonder if Wisdom is a Shard, and Shallan just isn't hearing the capitalization.

Oh, we haven't seen her get in a back-and-forth this delightful since back with her early times with Jasnah, maybe even as far back as the first book! I'm getting the feeling that this conversation is really pulling the Shallan part of Shallan to the foreground.

OH MAN WIT DIDN'T KNOW SADEAS WAS KILLED. “Storms, no. I'd have applauded.” And perhaps even composed a jig on the spot in memory of the occasion.

[hums] There's the title drop, and in a much more understandable context than my silent screaming off to the side.

Oh, Shallan. As composed as Wit seems to be from the outside, once again your perception remains remarkably superficial. Did you catch nothing from the moment that you looked into his eyes and saw mountains crumbling? Though the ability to “change things”… yes, that'd be an enviable one. Even so, the way that Hoid does it isn't the way that you necessarily should.

“For men never see as far as they think they do.” Ooof. And isn't that the truth. Even ones like Dalinar who try to change it for the better don't know how that stone will eventually end up.

He's right. Be wary of Hoid, Shallan. He may be an ally, but he would let Roshar crumble to save the Cosmere. What he might in the end term the best and most necessary way to handle things may not be in the favour of you and yours.

“The Heart of the Revel”. The Unmade. So. It has influence over the members of the cult, and especially so over those of… perhaps not the inner circle, but 'those in the know'. Even if Wit can get you in, it won't be an easy infiltration.

“You already know how. Learn why.” Oh, now there's a question to ask. This being Shallan, she'll internalize and contemplate a question like that better than she would an outright story and Hoid knows it.

“He said he'd treat me like a king.” [SNORTS] Considering how he's treated kings in the past? You're getting off well on this one, good innkeeper.

Hoid feels like a spren to Pattern? Or by 'one of us' does he instead mean like a Radiant – that's the real question.

[motorcyclegirlfriends]

Sense the SDCC thing, I've been seeing a lot of art and fics that are dragging Kara/Supergirl. Like I get that some people are upset at the actors but the characters have nothing to do with any of this. I started watching the show because I read the comics when I was a kid, I just loved Supergirl as a hero. It's really kind of upsetting. They're treating a character like shit because they don't like something the person who portrays them did.

So this is a long dissection of the current Supergirl fan behavior, but if you’ve been wondering what the hell is going on, you might be interested in reading these concepts.

I understand why you’re upset. I am too, because Kara is such a wonderful character. I don’t think I’ve ever liked a character as much as her.

But there are two things you should realize when seeing this:

1. They never really cared about Kara to being with. Your loved Kara-focused content isn’t changing or leaving, because these people were not making the Kara content. They were likely initially making Supercorp Lena-focused content.

2. It’s not even about her.

I think what a lot of people who are newly joining this SDCC homophobia discussion are missing is that a lot of the most vicious backlash is not from people who are uniquely upset over this issue (though there are certainly people who are- and understandably) but from people who have had consistently overzealous reactions of hate toward actors and characters alike, save their fave (pretty much Katie Mcgrath/Lena Luthor).

On tumblr, and very noticeably in this fandom, there are sections of fans who seem to genuinely enjoy hating things. It’s a sport.

They’re having fun sending the most hurtful things they can think of to actors, and are the quickest to begin making vicious memes and jokes surrounding a negative event, before there has been a consensus within the community of how bad the “sin” was.

The “punishment” begins before the jury is out, and trying to defend those in the situation feels like trying to put a bullet back into a gun after it’s been fired. 

(Maybe it’s more like stepping in front of a bullet, because once these few have decided that the target is guilty, they won’t stop, and anyone who disagrees with them is guilty, too. Blogs and actors alike.)

This is partially why my discussion of the SDCC event had a “are they homophobic” slant (other then that I believe the nature of the event itself- if it was homophobic- hinges on the feeling behind the words, unlike most other instances of homophobia. It’s complicated and some people understandably disagree so far, but it’s really how I see it and I’ll be talking more about it a little later in different posts).

People started calling Melissa and Jeremy homophobic right away. Started targeting Kara as a character. Started “spite shipping” Lena and Reign. 

Or alternative to these options- immediately fan re-casted Kara as someone else to still be able to ship Supercorp. 

From where I stand, if you can so easily let go of this characterization of Kara, you never really cared about her as a character to begin with. If you don’t know that this was The™ person to play Kara Danvers, you’re likely more invested in the role she plays for Lena than for her as herself. 

And regardless of gender, I am uninterested in ships in which one character exists for the sake of another. (Lena existing purely for the sake of Kara’s development squicks me, too)

Recasting a woc as Kara doesn’t sit well with me either, for that reason. It’s a similar concept to how Maggie must exist as her own complex and valued person, apart from Alex, because she is a character of color.

I can’t really read the minds of these people, and I guess I could be wrong, but it’s hard for me to imagine actual Kara fans recasting her in this way.

Essentially, a lot of these people, or at least a very vocal minority, are so quick to accept that something horrible has happened because they want an excuse to hate them. 

They like it. 

Maybe it’s because they’re upset with the way society is and want someone to suffer for it. Maybe it’s because they have unresolved anger in their lives. 

But as it stands, it appears as if these people are using moral rightness and social activism as an excuse to be as mean as they want.

And like @youngbloodbuzz said in the link above, you start to look at their past behaviors in a new light. Were they genuinely upset at characters? Actors? Did they really feel like a travesty was occurring? That someone needed protecting?

Or were they just looking for reasons to call someone a “stupid cunt”?

It’s like they’re genuinely thinking, “It’s okay for me to make fun of someone’s physical appearance, call them intense names, make memes about how horrible they are innately, and send them death threats because they said something problematic once that a lot of people will hear.”

Sometimes they’ll call it “coping”, and maybe some people truly believe that makes it okay. But coping mechanisms are not above reproach.

If I hurt someone because I’m upset about something- even if I hurt someone because they did something wrong- it doesn’t erase the fact that I hurt them. We are still responsible to how we react to bad situations. We are still responsible for not reacting in an overly inflated way. 

Sometimes people will focus on how those that they’re attacking have more of a responsibility to be good people. That they are but mere bloggers, screaming into the void. They can’t possibly be accountable for how they behave. 

“I’m tired of talking about how bad the fans are, we should be focusing on what they did wrong!”

It creates an atmosphere in which an honest mistake from a well known person is much more crucifiable than the purposeful cruelty of the fans. We’re discouraged from criticizing popular blogs because the person they’re attacking has a wider audience and larger consequences for mistakes, as if popular bloggers don’t reach and influence thousands of people and as if we aren’t allowed to shape the way our own community functions.

Meanwhile, people who genuinely value morality and social activism fall prey to this thinking. They’ll even join in on the action, because they think it’s a moral act. 

Rebellion, somehow. Righteous fire. 

It’s a twisted mindset that spreads because people are afraid to be on the wrong side of morality.

Even people who really think the reaction is “too far” are quiet about it because they agree with the fact that what the offending celebrity did was wrong, and see that the level of vitriol for them now is overwhelming.

This is how I imagine that people who believe Melissa and Jeremy’s words to be homophobic but who do not think a couple of mistakes makes someone pure evil are relating to the current tumblr dialogue: 

“Wow this thing was homophobic!”

“Huh, yeah, I agree. Maybe not intentionally, but yeah.”

“That means this person is homophobic!”

“Uh, well, not sure I’d go that far-”

“Oh and look at this other somewhat problematic thing they did a while ago”

“Hmm well that’s bad, but not everyone outside of social activism gets that that’s a bad thing, so I can see-”

“Wow did you hear that this person also has an opinion about the show that I disagree with! What the fuck is wrong with them?”

“Oh. Well I actually agree with them in that situation but-”

“Omg they think that their character is like this! Do they know them at all??? What kind of terrible actor doesn’t know their character?”

“Well that’s a pretty common way that people are reading this character. Just because you-”

“Here’s some conjecture about their personal life that I imagine happened that paints them in a bad light.”

“Well, you don’t know that, but either way you shouldn’t be diving into their personal-”

“Oh and here’s a totally real story from an anon about someone they know who knew this person in the past and says they were a jerk at this one point-”

And it becomes too much. If you don’t really love the actor, really love their character, you either extract yourself from the group or you ignore the opinions you disagree with. 

It becomes quite clear that these people want to feel this way and won’t be changing any time soon.

And the more there seems to be a consensus about the issue, the less willing people are to speak out, for fear of rejection.

The Spiral of Silence theory is a good way to explain it:

To avoid isolation, people tend to refrain from publicly stating their views on controversial matters when they perceive that doing so would attract criticism, scorn, laughter, or other signs of disapproval. 

Conversely, those who sense that their opinions will meet with approval tend to voice them fearlessly and at times vociferously. 

Indeed, speaking out in such a way tends to enhance the threat of isolation faced by supporters of the opposing position, reinforcing their sense of being alone. 

Thus a spiraling process begins, the dominant camp becoming ever louder and more self-confident while the other camp becomes increasingly silent.

Importantly, the spiral of silence occurs only in connection with controversial issues that have a strong moral component. What triggers a person’s fear of isolation is the belief that others will consider him or her not merely mistaken but morally bad. Accordingly, issues that lack a moral component or on which there is general consensus leave no room for a spiral of silence.

Additionally, I believe that if someone does speak out against the (perceived) majority, it is most likely to be someone who is very strongly opposing of it.

A person who believes “It isn’t homophobic at all! They are innocent!” is more likely to voice their disagreements than “Okay I agree with your assessment of the situation but I think maybe we’re being too harsh…”

So the “minority”- who could technically very well be the quiet majority (people with middle-ground opinions just don’t get as many followers)- stays quiet. 

They might even change their minds to agree with the “majority”, over time. 

Believing that the mindset of the group that you belong to is wrong is psychologically uncomfortable, so it is not uncommon for someone to try to adjust their thinking to fit those they feel connected to.

So, eventually, the only people who are speaking at all are those “majorities” who hate these people. Or those who act like they do for notes.

And then this thinking escalates amongst those still talking about it (remember: because it’s fun for them and they want to milk it for as long as possible) and it quickly translates to hating their character, once they’ve temporarily run out of material to be angry with the actor for.

So, back to your concern, how long until, “it’s hard to look at Melissa as Kara right now, because of how I fear she might feel about gay people” becomes something like “Mon-El is abusive, but Kara can choke so whatever” ?

(And on that note, one should consider how much they really wanted to protect Kara Danvers’ characterization from Mon-El’s influence, and how much was just a part of their hate-hobby.)

Maybe it won’t go that far. I hope it doesn’t. I hope people come to their senses about this.

But it’s escalated even since yesterday, when I started making this post. The language being used to describe Melissa when she is speaking normally, about normal things that some people have a difference of opinion on, is abhorrent. 

So if you’re just trying to enjoy fandom in a peaceful and creative way, I encourage you to watch how the people you interact with react when something negative happens.

Are they disheartened? Crushed? Are they considering leaving the show and it’s fandom? Writing serious essays about how they’re hurt?

…Or do they come alive?

Are they incredibly angry, and then making jokes immediately? Memes and edits and creative content more so than they do on a peaceful day? Do you get the sense that they aren’t going anywhere, for a long time, even though they don’t seem to enjoy anything about the show?

Then you might be better off unfollowing them.

Of course, not everyone who makes a joke about negative things is thus enjoying it. It makes people feel better to make light of situations as well as to express anger, and doing so doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re drama-seeking.

And sometimes people slip into the mob more than they would like to have, retrospectively. Say cruel things that they regret later. 

It happens, and tumblr can be a persuasive and pervasive place. 

If you follow someone who initially reblogs some slightly overly hateful things, but who then backs off after the first wave, they probably aren’t the kind of person who is fueled by anger. 

I’ve seen a lot of people I considered to be level-headed get wrapped up in overly aggressive, black and white thinking during the initial reaction to events.

But then sometimes, a couple of weeks later, they’ll post a tentative “Anyone else still wanna kinda like this thing, even though we said it was bad before?” and they’ll get enough approval via reblogs to feel like it’s okay to go back to normal.

Some blogs quietly sort themselves out, in the end.

And if you’re one of those people who goes overboard occasionally, I get it. 

You’re hurt and you didn’t realize that the basis for the fan reaction that you were involved in was morally shallow. That the people you were supporting were not righteously furious, but using righteousness as an excuse to be furious.

But remember the message here: people make mistakes. It’s the patterns that really tell you who they are.

And I think we can be better. Have better patterns, as a group.

In the end, I encourage you to point out when a reaction is too harsh, toward anyone. Even if it’s difficult. Even if you agree that what the person did was pretty bad.

Agreeing that “black and white thinking” is bad can feel like you’re lowering your standards for morality. But I promise, you can still value the things that you value and loathe the things that go against it, without condemning someone’s entire personhood based on a mistake or a handful of mistakes regarding those things.

Even big mistakes.

People are complicated. We are all made up of really good things and really bad things.

It’s easy to believe that someone is wholly bad when they screw up.

The hard part, the part that will ultimately ground you and help you mature, is realizing that someone can have some really bad parts within them and still be good people. (I encourage you to remember that when thinking about yourself, as well.)

The trick is recognizing the difference between when people are making honest mistakes that unintentionally hurt people, and when they’re willfully behaving a certain way because they want to hurt people (or don’t care that they will). 

And further, between when people are lashing out because they’re hurt and when people are inventing hurt to be able to lash out.

These distinctions will help you realize who you can guide or trust to work their issues out on their own when they slip up, and who you should distance yourself from.

Some very vocal portions of the fandom are, unfortunately, the latter.

[theofficialcunt]

If you're down a would LOVE a little something with Adore winning AS3 (yes I know she's not on it LET ME DREAM) and Ru being like "so what are you gonna do with the money?" and Adore responds with "well I'm gonna spend it on the best fucking honeymoon EVER" and everyone's like ?!?!?! and she's like "oh yeah I forgot to mention I totally got married right before going on the show" *cue smug smirk* and Ru's all "OMG what??? anyone we know???" and BAM! cue Bianca.

I really hope I did this prompt justice. It was actually really fun to write! Enjoy ✨💕

The tv blared loudly throughout the club, the top 3 queens gripping each other’s hands in anticipation. It was hot, Adore was sweating profusely - partly from nerves but mostly from the amount of people watching them.

The crowning was in New York, and it was always a star studded event. Alaska would be crowning the winner, whose picture would then be hung next to hers in the imaginary All Star hall of fame.

Katya, Bob The Drag Queen, Kim Chi, and some of the local new york queens watched in anticipation as the reunion echoed throughout the building. Ru Paul himself was also there, standing next to Alaska with a microphone making comments here and there. Fans would scream and shout every now and then when something entertained them. Courtney Act and Bianca Del Rio were also there for support for their season 6 sister. This is Adore’s 3rd time on the show, and second time in the top 3.

“You ready for this mawma?” Trixie asked playfully, elbowing Adore.

“I mean, I guess.” Adore laughed uncomfortably.

She was not ready. Honestly, losing to Bianca the first time was hard. Yes, the win was well deserved - she dominated the fuck out of the competition. But Adore had to put on a smile for hours after the crowning and pretend to be okay with losing. When in reality she was under the impression she was going to be sharing the grand prize with her.

She was so sure of the win, she had already made plans for her prize money.

So, to say she was crushed when she lost was an understatement.

She did well on All Stars 3, won 3 challenges in fact. She never had to lip sync, and she didnt have to send anybody home either. It was a good situation overall.

But she wasn’t confident in who was going to win. It could be her crown. It could be Trixies crown. It could even be Chi Chi’s crown.

“Y’all, I just want some gumbo.” Chi Chi groaned, adjusting her false eyelash.

The three of them were an odd trio, but somehow their chemistry worked well on All Stars. Adore laughed, always finding it fascinating that Chi Chi and Bianca came from the same state but acted so different. Adore guessed it was because Bianca had too much New York in her now.

“And the winner of All Stars 3 is…”

Chi Chi and Trixie gripped Adore’s hands tightly, each digging their fake nails into her palms as they awaited their fate.

Her and Bianca made eye contact, and Adore noticed for the first time Bianca looked nervous. Her eyes kept darting around the room, she had one hand gripped on the side of her modest boat neck black velvet dress. She had Courtney’s hand in a vice grip, holding it so tight she was probably losing circulation in it.

Bianca smiled at Adore encouragingly, letting her eyes scan over the seafoam green sequin dress that hugged her body. She was wearing a blonde wig tonight, with some extra pieces woven in to add more volume. wanted Adore to win so bad. She thought she had deserved it the first time around, especially with the way that they edited it. Adore had stepped her game up for All Stars 3, investing in gowns and nicer hair pieces then usual. She did her best to show versatility on the show, and it worked - landing her a spot in the top 3. She worked very hard for this, and literally put herself out there all over again which had been hard on her after her departure on All Stars 2. She didn’t know how she would react if she would lose a second time.

“Adore Delano!”

The room erupted in screams, and Adore blinked rapidly with shock. She felt dizzy, her ears ringing from all of the excitement. Trixie screamed, pulling her in for a tight hug. Adore let her head rest into her chest as she let out a few tears. She had won drag race. She had won $100,000. She would be able to buy a house, make another album…

She was completely overwhelmed

This was what winning felt like.

Adore pulled away softly, wiping the tears from her eyes so that her makeup didn’t get ruined. She turned and embraced Chi Chi - giving her a longer hug. She had been a big fan of Chi Chi’s on season 8, and was sad that she didn’t win. They had grown close on the show, mostly becauseAdore was the only one familiar with Louisiana cuisine.

Because of Bianca.

Adore searched the crowd for B, and smiled when she saw her. Bianca was ecstatically jumping up and down, holding Courtney’s hand and…was she crying?!

Bianca’s cheeks were shiny from the tears of joy. She never cried in public, but she couldn’t help herself. Courtney grabbed a tissue from her purse and blotted her face gently, trying to move the elaborate makeup back into place.

“God, you’re a mess!” Courtney exclaimed, laughing as she wiped the runny mascara off of her cheeks.

“Shut up bitch, I have every right to be.” Bianca laughed through her tears, her voice still thick with emotion.

Adore walked across the stage to Alaska and Ru, where they stood with the crown and sceptre. Detox stood by with the check, beaming at her as she was handed a mic.

“I guess I’m expected to make a speech now huh?” Adore laughed nervously, eyeing Ru and Alaska.

The crowd laughed, then fell silent in anticipation.

Adore was nervous now, mostly because she just spoke from the heart when she talked to her fans.Now that she was a winner, was she expected to deliver articulate speeches?

“I want to start off by saying I’m so grateful for this oppurtunity man. Thank you Ru.” Adore smiled at Ru, who in return bowed to her.

“Winning drag race doesn’t mean that I’m going to stop keeping it real with you guys. You deserve to know the truth about shit, and you deserve to be called out if you start acting crazy. I’m talking to you Val.” Adore laughed, catching Valentina’s eyes in the far corner of the club.

“Honestly, you motherfuckers can do anything you set your mind to and I just love you all so much.” Adore exclaimed. “Thank you.”

Alaska smiled, bringing the crown over and gesturing for Adore to kneel down. She placed the crown on top of her blonde locks, smiling with pride as she stood up. The crowd went crazy, shouting and cheering as Adore smiled at them and waved.

Ru handed her the sceptre, whispering congratulations in her ear and ushering her over to Detox to receive the check.

“Presenting your new queen, and winner of $100,000 Adore Delano!” Alaska yelled.

Adore grabbed the check and posed for pictures for what felt like forever. First with Alaska and Detox, then with Alaska, Detox, and Ru. Then with Chi Chi and Trixie, and then finally Courtney and Bianca were pulled on stage.

“I thought it would be fitting to have your originalsisters pose with you.” Ru announced,

Adore smiled as Courtney tackled her in a crushing hug.

“I’m so happy for you Adorm!” Courtney exclaimed, pecking Adore on the cheek playfully.

“Okay that’s enough,” Bianca snapped, pulling Courtney off of her. “Congratulations. I knew it was going to be you.” Bianca held her for a solid minute before letting her go.

They took a few pictures together, and then they were ushered back to the front row while Ru began his interview with her on stage.

“So Adore, I have to ask.”  Ru started, as they sat down on two stools that had seemingly materialized out of nowhere.  “What are you going to do with the money?”

Adore bit her lip and made brief eye contact with Bianca before she nodded in agreement.

“Well, I’m gonna spend some of it on the best fucking honeymoon ever!” Adore exclaimed.

The crowd grew louder with confusion and excitement. Ru’s jaw dropped, along with all of the other queen’s on stage.

“Y-you’re married? When did that happen?” Ru asked curiously.

“Well, I got the call for All Stars and that was when we were just getting serious and I was like fuck, we could either do this now or do it when I get back - and he was like let’s just do it now!” Adore exclaimed animatedly, talking vividly with her hands. “So I was like, fuck yeah I’m down we’ll get a tax break if I win. So we jetted off to Vegas and did something super low key. We got married at 3 am so no fans would see, it was wild.”

Trixie was shrieking from backstage, along with the audience who had grown much louder during the course of the conversation. Adore had worked very hard to keep her marriage a secret, and it had definitely paid off.

“Bitch,  why didn’t you tell me?” Alaska shrieked. “I would have brought you guys a pizza.”

“I’m sorry Lasky! My husband isn’t really big on pizza so it’s better that you didn’t.” Adore laughed.

“Oh my god, this is just so shocking Adore.” Ru finally said, as the audience calmed down. “Now I have to ask, is your husband anyone we know?”

Adore smiled coyly, trying not to look in her husband’s general direction.

“Well, he’s here tonight…” Adore teased, smiling wide.

“Can we meet him?” Ru asked excitedly, scanning the crowd looking for the potential partner.

“Sure man!” Adore exclaimed, smiling smugly.

“Mr. Delano, if you are still in the building come on down!” Ru called, looking around the building.

Just then, Bianca stood up from the front row and sauntered up the steps to the stage. Ru’s jaw dropped, and Alaska screamed as the audience roared in approval. Bianca grinned, pecking Adore on the lips softly before grabbing her microphone.

“It’s Mrs. Del Rio thank you very much.” Bianca smiled, before dipping Adore in a passionate embrace.

Adore knew the fans were going to lose their minds, but she really had no clue how crazy they would get until it was all out in the open. The screaming and shrieking hadn’t died down since it was announced she was married, and had only gotten progressively worse as the night went on.

But Adore wouldn’t have it any other way.

[grumpycollegetips]

How coping with anxiety and depression in college helped me forge strong friendships

This essay -- pretty much a love letter to my undergrad college experience -- had been 5 years in the making. Today, on World Mental Health Day, I’m sharing the obstacles I faced 5 years ago as a 17-year old college freshman who suffered from anxiety and depression.

While running this blog, several people reached out with general mental health questions and asked for advice on how to get away with not drinking in college, so I’m back with a hopefully uplifting story as someone who’s grown exponentially through battling anxiety and depression. If you’re on your own mental health journey, at any stage in your life, this story is for you.

TL;DR, College was the best thing to happen to my mental health.

When I rolled up to campus on college move-in day in an SUV full of dorm necessities five years ago, I didn’t think I was asking for much from my college experience. All I wanted was to stop being so afraid of everything.

At 17 years old, I felt anything from wary to terrified of what I imagined a typical college student looks forward to in their first year. Independence, new people and social events were the last things my anxiety disorder wanted to experience, even after almost a year of talk therapy and medication. I'd spent the months leading up to my first semester of college embarking on painstakingly planned dorm shopping trips — the routes I'd drive, in what order I'd visit stores, what I'd buy from each — and spending hours late at night preparing for dorm life by watching endless amounts of YouTube. I needed to know exactly what to expect from my college experience so I could be in complete control of it.

In the first year following my diagnosis of depression stemming from generalized anxiety disorder, I’d made minimal progress, enough that I wasn’t crying every other therapy session.

But I knew that I could do better. Somehow, I was sure there would be a day for me when I didn’t feel burdened with my invasive, obsessive and oppressive thoughts. I knew that someday I wouldn't spend most of my waking moments fearing a panic attack.

That ideal life, I decided, was going to start with me living in a dorm full of strangers at a college campus a safe 30 miles from home. 

(Above: Look, I did things! It took hours of mental planning to prepare for a social event, and I left early.)

At first, being in a shared living situation with a mental illness wasn’t too conducive to starting friendships on the right foot. Depression for me didn’t look like the girl who lived at the end of our hall and never said a word to any of us all year — an image most people would associate with such a mental illness. I was friendly, I got along with my hallmates, and I did normal things like going on Target runs and sunbathing on the lawn.

(Aforementioned Target run. Let’s not talk about the quality of either the pic or my choice in food.)

But while my new friends saw me as amiable, I later learned they also thought I was closed-off because I’d often turn down invitations to anything from seeing a movie to going to the dining hall across campus. My anxious, irrational thoughts told me I’d have a panic attack during “The Fault in Our Stars” and an asthma attack while walking across campus. I knew I shouldn’t, but I listened to that voice. I believed it.

So I overcompensated for being held back with anxiety by suggesting we do things within my comfort zone; I bought Bananagrams, Jenga and Apples to Apples; shared a 50-pack of chocolate chip cookies with the entire floor every week; started a collection of film classics for movie nights in our 11-by-14 double room; and invested in an iPhone 4S so I could participate in iMessage group chats with new friends.

(Above: The infamous 50-set cookies.)

Establishing myself as the “game night girl” and “’She’s the Man’ girl” —  and, I’ll admit, “Twilight” girl —  helped bridge the gap between me and my potential friends. We did lots of things together, so I hoped they wouldn’t think too much of it when I bailed on other plans.

Things were going well until, a few weeks in, I came face-to-face with a trigger that threatened to set off a panic attack.

On a particularly quiet weekend, my randomly paired roommate pestered me to go to the beach with her. Despite my protests — the secret reason being that I wasn’t familiar with the place we were going and I was afraid of long walks — and my barely concealed discomfort, she coerced me into going off campus, thinking I was just being lazy.

As we drove alongside the beach, I convinced myself that it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought: We’d sit on the sand, watch the waves and head back to campus. But soon we were passing bonfires blowing plumes of smoke, and my thoughts raced with ways to convince my roommate to change her plans. If we were to go down to the beach, the smoke would aggravate my asthma, I'd have an asthma attack and I'd have to call the paramedics (again) —  or so I told myself.

My roommate, excited to explore her new city, didn’t notice at first when I didn’t get out of her car. When she confusedly looked in through the window, I knew I was cornered. If I didn’t tell her my irrational fears, I wouldn’t get out of the plan.

With the faint smell of smoke triggering my fight-or-flight instincts, I got out and asked desperately if we could stay by the car as a compromise. But when she insisted that we go by the water to enjoy the beach, I couldn’t hold back anymore. As I cried in front of her for the first time, I admitted that I really didn’t want to be there and didn’t think my asthma would survive the bonfires by the beach.

I expected an awkward, confused apology and an equally awkward and confused silence as I cried on the short drive back to campus. But the woman who would, within a year, become my best friend instead surprised me with a sincere apology and a compromise.

That afternoon, she drove us less than a mile down to a park with an ocean view, and we spent an hour lying on the grass and watching airplanes take off right over us. I decided crying in front of my roommate crushed a barrier between us, so I shared my worries that people thought I was weird and unsociable. She admitted that she’d wondered why I was concerned with things like leaving for class 35 minutes early for a 15-minute walk or the fact that she kept our window open at night.

I was stunned that she’d noticed and wondered about my quirks that I thought had mostly flown under the radar. So I decided it was time to be more honest with my mental struggles; if I wanted a salve for my anxiety, establishing trust and friendship was a good start.

I told her that three years prior, I’d experienced a near-fatal exercise-induced asthma attack, and that prevented me from walking distances. Running or hiking were absolutely off limits. Though I had no experience with alcohol, its effects terrified me, whether it was me or someone else consuming it. Loud noises put me on edge. If I wasn’t the one to plan something, I couldn’t partake in the plans that (I thought) I had no control over.

My thoughts were irrational, but that's not what my roommate told me. Instead, she promised to be more aware that I had struggles that she never realized someone could have. “This can be our park now,” I remember her saying as we folded up our blankets to head back to campus. For the first time since moving to college, I was comforted with the knowledge that someone actually understood me.

(”Our” picnic park, pictured 1.5 years after the ~asthma incident~)

Our core friend group naturally grew to our circle of floormates, and our plans evolved from Banagrams on the hall floor and movie nights in my dorm room to hikes around the city, concerts and house parties. I expertly waved off parties with excuses of late shifts at the library and avoided hiking trips with my own on-campus plans. Though leaving campus made me anxious, my friends — who, through my roommate, vaguely understood that there were things I couldn’t do — still extended invitations on the off-chance that I’d join.

With the passing weeks, I grew self-conscious about my efforts to push my mental limits at my own pace. Surely, no one would want to be friends with someone who wasn’t “down” for everything.

(Above: A DIY wall quote that definitely helped me on those nights I spent alone in the dorm room. Plus, you know this pic was taken in 2012 by the horrific editing job.)

I picked and chose what I was comfortable doing, usually plans that didn’t involve walking distances, and somehow was able to socialize enough to maintain friendships. Sometimes we had to drive when we could walk, and sometimes I’d go quiet during our excursions to talk myself out of my anxious thoughts, but my new friends accepted that was how I was and encouraged me to push myself to go on more local adventures without knowing why some things could be so hard for me. And I started trusting them.

We didn’t get to that point with just dorm ice breakers and RA-organized events. When someone would ask what medication they saw me taking every night, I’d reveal I was on a low dose of an anti-depressant to stabilize my anxiety. If asked what my Friday plans were some weeks, I shared that I was seeing my therapist. I put a pause on my “fake it ‘til you make it” attitude to let my closest friends know that I was struggling with a mental illness.

And in return, my friends were open about their own struggles — with homesickness, with stress, with their own anxiety. We hadn’t known each other a year, yet we trusted each other during the biggest transitional period of our lives.

By my second year of college, I was able to embark on my first college road trip. With the help of my friends, I pushed my asthmatic self up the hills of San Francisco’s Chinatown and explored new places without the fear of not being in charge of planning.

For once, my excitement to be doing things that I considered normal for college students was louder than my anxiety.

(Those two hands belong to two women who remain some of my best friends.)

The rest of undergrad flew by as I kept surprising myself and my friends with the things I was able to push myself to do. And, even better, my best friends pointed out when I'd do things that my freshman self never would have considered. I started going to the beach for fun sophomore year, and I tried going to a house party junior year (I didn't last long). By senior year, I was going on short hikes and felt comfortable in bar and club environments.

I was only able to overcome these anxieties because of the difficult moments I faced in college, which I shared with my closest friends. At one point or another over four years, I had to ask each of them to talk me through an anxious episode or sit with me as I battled my own thoughts. But not once did they seem uncomfortable with such a request; later, they’d admit that those experiences helped them understand my condition. They were even happy to see the strong trust we’d built.

By the end of college, after trying to be as open as possible about how anxiety affected my daily life, I’d become a go-to support system for friends who found themselves struggling with mental health.

When a friend confided in me about her signs of depression, I tried to destigmatize and demystify seeking professional help by sharing my experiences from four years of therapy. During my junior year, I talked and comforted another friend through a panic attack —  and didn’t allow it to trigger my own. When my best friend shared that she was experiencing anxious feelings for the first time, we talked about what anxiety felt like and brainstormed calming methods.

A few years after I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression, through medication, therapy, strong friendships and gradual confidence building, I was in a mental state where I was able to counsel the same friends who had supported me through my own battles. And it was in these moments of feeling like I was giving back to my ever-supportive group of friends that I felt happier and stronger than ever.

I’m proud to have not suffered a single panic attack during college. But I’m even prouder of the fact that, as I'm enjoying a life where I can travel and jog on a treadmill, I’m still surrounded by the same friends who would help me through whatever obstacle comes my way.

[thran-duils]

You’re Now Mine (Part 10)

TITLE: YOU’RE NOW MINE (PART 10) SUMMARY:  I’VE DECIDED TO CONTINUE THE DRABBLE REQUEST INTO A THREE PART SERIES CONSIDERING THE REQUESTS TO WRITE MORE OF IT!

“FULFILLING A REQUEST FOR @lets-personofinterestontumbir! – “COULD YOU DO A DRABBLE FOR THE PERSEPHONE AU I DON’T KNOW IF YOU’VE SEEN ONCE UPON A TIME BUT THE EPISODE 1X07 REMINDED ME A LOT OF THIS STORY WHEN THE EVIL QUEEN RIPPED OUT THE HUNTSMEN’S HEART IF YOU COULD DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT IT WOULD BE AWESOME. THANK YOU.” “ WORDS: 1,320 WARNINGS: DARK AF, EMOTIONAL/MENTAL ABUSE, LANGUAGE

MASTERPOST || PERSEPHONE || PART 9 || Part 11 || Fanfic masterpost

You woke up screaming. Something was tearing at you from the inside. You clutched at your chest, sitting up. You couldn’t think past the pain, everything was a blur.

Someone was yelling your name and it sounded like it was far away. But, it was getting louder and closer in proximity. Tears were running down your face as you gasped for air.

Again, your name. “Y/N!” Sam bellowed, running into the room, his face a mask of worry. You ignored him, clutching at your chest still. Sam looked hopeless, skidding to your bedside and reaching out to touch you. You did not push him away, letting him grasp you. “Y/N! What’s going on?”

There was a drop in the pain suddenly and your eye sight began to clear.

“Sam, what the hell is going on?” you heard Dean’s voice from somewhere in the room.

Sam exclaimed worried, “I don’t know!” He was trying to pull you towards him. “Y/N, please talk to me. What’s going on?”

You mustered enough energy to force yourself to look at him. “This is YOUR fault!” you cried out, tears still falling, before pulling back into your body. The pain was still resonating throughout you and you choked out a cry.

Dean shot Sam a confused look before demanding, “The hell you talking about?”

“I tried to warn you, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb. But you were too hell bent on ‘saving’ her,” Crowley commented from the doorway, catching the boys attention. He was leaning on it, examining his nails nonchalantly. He gave them a tight-lipped smile. “I told you she was marked.”

His words sank in and Dean’s jaw set as Sam gaped, unsure of what to say.

Your pain was at a bearable level but you still rubbed your chest, small whimpers leaving your mouth.

“Doesn’t matter if he can’t see her, he can still inflict punishment,” Crowley chimed, continuing on. “As you’re seeing here.”

His tone rubbed Dean the wrong way, and Dean faced him angrily. “Do you have to sound so goddamn chipper about it?” he snapped.

Crowley through his hands out and said, “I’m not happy she’s being tortured. I tried to talk you two out of it. Did I not? Pretty fervently if I remember correctly. But, you were so hell bent on getting her back before you’d developed a full fledged plan.”

“The place isn’t warded, so that’s great. You know he’s going to come here!” you snapped quietly, moving your eyes back up to them again. All their eyes turned towards you and you held your knees close to your chest, refusing to stretch out in case Lucifer let out his rage again.

Sam crouched down again by you and pushed your hair away from your face gently. “We warded it again,” Sam told you.

Dean added, his tone tight, “Which is why I’m so confused as to how the hell Lucifer can still get to her!”

Crowley replied, “He’s already inside her, Dean. If she’s in here, he can be here in that way.”

“That’s not how warding works,” Dean growled, looking agitated, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s how this one does, squirrel,” Crowley snapped back at him. Dean’s jaw was tight, glaring Crowley down. “I tried to tell you. As I’ve mentioned MULTIPLE times.” His voice was rising with each word. “And you ignored me! As you usually do. I got her here so you two could focus on your little mission though because taking Lucifer out also benefits me. So, now that you’ve got her here, can we get a move on? The longer you take, the more time Lucifer has to hurt her.”

“Which means you should just let me go. He’s going to keep hurting me.”

Your voice caught their attention and Sam and Dean looked at you in disbelief. Crowley on the other hand did not look surprised. You added somberly, “And when I go back, I’m sure this will feel like nothing for what he’s got planned. He’s never going to believe I left without wanting to.” You cast your eyes down again before mumbling, “So, thanks for that.’

There were a few moments of silence before Sam said gently, “Y/N… you’ll be safe here.”

“No, I won’t be! Do you even know what you’re up against? Because you’re sure as hell not acting like you do. Some demons tried to pin it on me that I was trying to escape the other day! And I convinced Lucifer I wasn’t – even if he said he knew I wasn’t trying to – and then a few days later, I do disappear? Great fucking image for him to have. Thanks, guys.”

Dean looked insulted and he retorted angrily, “We did this for you! You were a prisoner!”

Scoffing, you returned, “It wasn’t that bad.” Sam and Dean stared at you concerned and in shock. You noticed their expressions and swallowed sharply before casting your eyes downward again. They made you feel ashamed for what you said. “I was doing okay.”

“Like hell you were! What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?”

Defending yourself, you said, “It wasn’t all bad!”

Dean gave you an incredulous look before pointing at you pissed off, “He kept you locked in a room, playing fucking dress up, and… like you were his personal concubine! From what I understand!” It looked like it made Dean uncomfortable to talk about that. “And you’re telling me it wasn’t that bad?”

Sam had said nothing, as had Crowley.

“You don’t understand,” you muttered, picking at the blanket on the bed.

“Yeah, I sure as hell don’t. So why don’t you explain it to me?” Dean snapped back at you.

Sam finally cut in, “Dean.”

“No, give her some time to explain this insanity to me!”

This pissed you off now. You made eye contact with him and exclaimed, “I’m not crazy!”

“You’re sure as hell sounding like it, Y/N. Cuddling up to fucking Lucifer? Defending him? Wanting to go back to him? Pissed off at us – your FAMILY – for rescuing you from that lunatic? How does that not sound crazy?”

Sam’s voice was sharp this time, catching Dean off guard. “Dean!”

Dean closed his mouth, his eyes trained on Sam. Sam was staring daggers at him, threatening him to go on. When Dean did not, Sam looked back at you and grasped your hand tightly. His eyes searched your face and he told you, “Y/N… I know how… Lucifer can get in your head. It is scary. It’s overwhelming. And it’s so hard to try to separate yourself from it. But, you need to stay here with us. I know he’s putting you through excruciating pain. I’ve felt it myself. But… please. Don’t try to convince me to kick you out. It’s the worst possible thing that we could do to you and I don’t want to do it.”

You stared at Sam, your eyes running over his face. His eyes were swimming with worry, desperate for you to listen to him. Dean, for once, was being quiet, watching the exchange between the two of you. Crowley, despite his indifference in general to the three of you, seemed invested.

Opening your mouth to respond, you started, tears coming to your eyes again, “Sam, you don’t – ”

Dean’s cell phone rang, cutting through your conversation. Your eyes moved to him and he reached down, picking the phone up out of his pocket. His eyes flicked from it to you and he stated evenly, “It’s you.” Realization crossed his face and he answered the call, “What do you want?”

“That’s rude, Dean-o,” you could hear Lucifer on the other end of the phone. “I’ve been polite thus far. I haven’t tried to destroy your home.” His tone became angry, “But, I have been sending messages as I’m sure you’ve seen. You have something of mine and I’ve come to reclaim it.”

~~~

CASTIEL TAGS: @prince-halfblood, @splendidcas, @klaineaholic, @letsthedogpackandthecats, @alexastacio, @winchesterforever12 @seirensou  @tacos-and-trenchcoats @the-amaranthine @intheir-dreams @moon-and-stars-cas @marisayouass @demonicguardianangel @lizziebearrawrrawr2728  @kcam1621 @facebokurlbok @xxslytherinprincessxx @greenappleeyes @jinxkatkazama 

[rachelkulagodfrey-blog]

I Refuse to “Compete” With Other Black Womxn

Originally published on April 2, 2019.

***Disclaimer: I’m still trying to sort out if/how the Stacey Dash types fit into this framework.***

I’ve recently taken a liking to referring to my late father as ‘The Liberian Eli Pope.‘

It’s not uncommon to hear children of immigrants, especially Black African immigrants, talk about mind-numbingly complex assimilationist teachings from a very young age. We get the ‘twice as good’ speech like Olivia did, compounded with reminders of how we’re not to act like Black American children. Stereotypes and stigmas around Black American womxn were especially rooted deeply in my father’s mind, resulting in his continuous lessons on why he would not allow me to act like ‘those girls.’ While his teachings may have stemmed out of the weight of his persona/political fears and insecurities, they resulted in the creation (festering?) of a social blueprint that pressured me to see other Black womxn as my competitors and/or potential reasons for my downfall. Oop.

During a recent panel with Black Girl Podcast, comedienne and actress Lala Milan spoke on the importance of collaboration, especially for Black womxn working within the same industry:

“What people don’t realize is when we can all come together as a collective, you automatically have magic. Because you can teach me something that I don’t know, and I can teach you something that you don’t know. But you’re so busy afraid that I’m gonna take your spot when there’s so much space that you’re trying to withhold your knowledge from me. But guess what? I’m gonna learn it with or without you because I’m that hungry. And if you’re just as hungry as me and you stop trying to starve everybody around you, we can all eat.”

Milan’s comments came my way via a friend who taught me this lesson personally. I love to dwell on these kinds of “coincidences.” As two creatives interested in the media/tech industry, it’s expected that we compete for one of our voices to be louder than the voice of the other. We have two completely different backgrounds, ways of expressing ourselves, and different approaches to most of the issues that complicate our respective lives. We expose, challenge, and speak up for each other in ways that are most necessary. What fucking sense would it make to read her as someone who is trying to take my spot? Or to read myself as someone who is out to get hers? None. At. All.

What I think we have in common is the hunger to which Milan refers. We want our families, ourselves, and Black and Brown people to thrive. I have reason to believe that we’re both more interested in the collective thriving than we are in being the figureheads of a neoliberal empire. I have reason to believe that we want to inspire enthusiasm and concern in our peers, in the fight against apathy. I also have reason to believe that we’re both invested in figuring out ways for Black folks to secure the rights to their cultural contributions, as opposed to struggling in the effort to combat the leeching that some “creators” have done and/or do. Cough. Cough. Cough.

Excuse me. Niggas got allergies.

Whether it be teaching me how to use Canva so that I could build my own graphics, gifting me with my first iPhone after I fucked up my Android, noticing my discomfort in a room full of white girls about to snort coke and warmly saving me by saying “You can’t be late! We’ll meet you there,” the Black womxn I’ve been honored to be in company and conversation with have proven what true “community building” can be.  For me, they have redefined what “winning” can look like Whether it be opening up my home for manifestation/prayer circles, internship/experience plugs, listening to rants about how Goldlink‘s love should be for no one but them, or throwing these literal AND figurative hands, I’ve also learned that winning with others is a lot more fulfilling than riding by my lonesome.

Every Black womxn I meet isn’t going to be my best friend. And I won’t always be able to support other Black womxn in every single way that they need. But I’m committed to trying. I’m committed to a present and future where all of us win, on our own reflective, genuine terms.  I’ll always be guarded because whether or not I actually need to be, I feel like I do. But that doesn’t mean I’m about to be out here chasing Black womxn down with my shield.

Sometimes I build boundaries that are a little too rigid, and other times I can’t seem to set any of the necessary boundaries at all. But as I strengthen my commitment to myself and to the Black womxn I’m trying to build with and for, I’m experiencing a slow but steady stream of clarity around my capability, my talent, and my ability to care for other beings in real, intimate ways. Every day, I find more and more Black womxn who are riding the same wave. The work is starting to feel a little less isolating.

Daddy issues be damned.

Check out some of the work these brilliant and bold Black womxn are doing:

Katherine Puntiel’s displacedaf podcast

The inspiration behind this post.

There are only three people in this world that I consistently ask about their thoughts on my work, and Kat is one of them. Check out her latest episode on the death of Nipsey Hussle, hip hop’s role in generating conversations around growth, and her personal relationship to success, community building, and developing selfhood.

Kariesha S. Martinez, Kelly D’Oleo, and Charles Bonar’s MediaHaven

Kariesha is a Co-Founder & Director of Content Creation. You can check our personal site here.

Kelly is a Co-Founder & Director of Creative Marketing and Design. (She’s also the being who taught me how to use Canva two years ago.)

Lena Mitchell’s Portfolio

Lena’s a freelance digital artist, a graphic designer, and my motherfucking hair inspiration. She recently designed bomb ass shirts for Green Box Shop! She also taught a Photoshop Tutorial this past weekend.

Melissa Denizard’s Portfolio

One of my favorite storytellers. Check out Melissa’s work to learn more about the possibilities for ingenuity and social change in the production of news/media. Check out her Instagram to learn more about Melissa (and also to watch “Word?”, a biweekly series in which she explores the implications of our everyday language on the way we understand culture (and vice versa).

You can also check out her interview for “The Bay Leaf Archive” here.

Kai Naima Williams’ Chapbook

Published by Hyacinth Girl Press in Fall 2018, my dear Kai Naima put out a collection of poems that slap in the most devastating, profound ways. Hits you in the spirit & the heart. Kai’s also the Founder and Co-Executive Director of Eat At The Table Theatre Company, a non-profit theatre company building space for young actors, writers, and creatives to hone in on their skills.