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artemis-pendragon · 4 years ago

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wait if you have the time would you mind expanding on the parallels between achilles and patroclus and the ships you mentioned?

OH GOD YES I WOULD LOVE TO THANKS FOR ASKING!! The English Major in me jumped out so here's an absolute novel lmao:

Hannibal/Will:

Hannibal and Will are the easiest to draw direct parallels to because they are textually compared to Achilles and Patroclus in canon. Hannibal draws himself as Achilles and Will as Patroclus, then (because apparently he’s never heard of subtlety) shows it to Will.

Hannibal says that hiding and revealing identities is a major theme in the Iliad. Will asks Hannibal to reveal himself to Jack Crawford; in the same episode, Hannibal begins to suspect that Will has betrayed him, hiding his true intentions behind a façade to bait Hannibal into being captured by the FBI. However, Will isn’t even sure himself what his real intentions and identity is, and eventually betrays the FBI and runs away with Hannibal.

After Hannibal realizes that Will betrayed him (which is also the episode after he talks about how they’re like Achilles and Patroclus), he stabs Will in the stomach. Patroclus was killed after being stabbed in the stomach.

Hannibal and Will’s blurring identities is a major theme throughout the show. Just as Patroclus takes on Achilles’s identity on the field of war, Will takes on Hannibal’s identity in many ways—both intentionally, and unintentionally.

Patroclus dies wearing Achilles’s armor. Will is accused of being the Chesapeake Ripper, imprisoned, and could have been executed for Hannibal’s crimes if Hannibal hadn’t interfered.

Hannibal is a god-adjacent character, while Will is his more human counterpart. Will is Hannibal’s tether to his humanity, just as Patroclus is Achilles’s.

Just like Achilles couldn’t stand to be parted from Patroclus, Hannibal chose to let Will pull him off a cliff to their (probable) deaths. Hannibal would rather die with Will than live without him.

There is a significant amount of water imagery in this show. Will especially has a lot of ties to water: he likes to fish (his mind palace is initially shown to be a stream); he’s knowledgeable about boats and sailing (he sails across the Atlantic to find Hannibal); his dreams and hallucinations often include water and/or blood; he pulled Hannibal off a cliff into the ocean in a last ditch attempt to kill them both; etc. The story of Achilles also has lots of water-related motifs since Achilles’s mother, Thetis, is a sea nymph/goddess of water.

Hannibal didn’t become overtly vicious and violent toward the Great Red Dragon until he threatened to kill (and then actually stabbed) Will. Then he went totally feral and (literally) ripped Dolarhyde’s throat out. This reminds me of Achilles losing his mind and killing then mutilating Hector after Hector killed Patroclus.

Steve/Bucky:

Steve and Bucky have the “legendary beloved heroic superhuman soldier” and “childhood friend turned war companion” parallel down to a T. Steve is like Achilles: he is a born soldier who wants to fight for his country, starting out idealistic and becoming worn down and jaded by war over time. Bucky is far more reluctant to go to war but follows Steve back onto the battlefield because he believes in Steve and wants to keep him safe—especially from his own reckless righteousness. This is very similar to Patroclus’s desire to follow Achilles to war mostly out of a desire to protect and guide him away from his self-destructive, hot-headed tendencies.

Just as Patroclus put on Achilles’s armor to fight (and die) in his place on the battlefield, Bucky picks up and wields Steve’s shield just before he falls off the train to his apparent death.

Steve starts out saying that he doesn’t want to kill anybody, but after Bucky “dies”, he vows not to stop until every member of Hydra is either killed or captured. This is similar to Achilles’s reaction to Patroclus’s death, where he goes mad with grief and kills everyone in his path to get to Hector, who he then violently kills.

Additionally, after killing Hector, Achilles continues to fight recklessly until someone kills him. Similarly, Steve keeps fighting to stop Hydra but ultimately goes down with the aircraft carrying the bombs, allowing himself to drown/freeze. There’s probably ways he could have gotten out of that situation, but instead he kind of just gives in and lets himself “die” (at least that’s my interpretation).

The Captain America movies also have some interesting water imagery. Bucky falls to his “death” in a ravine, most likely falling into the frozen stream. Steve “drowns” after he crashes the plane into the ocean; in The Winter Soldier, Steve falls from the helicarrier into the Potomac, and Bucky jumps in after him. Again, the story of Achilles also contains water-related motifs due to Achilles’s mother being a sea nymph; I’m sure I could write an entire essay about these parallels before I figure out how to verbalize why this is interesting, but I’m too lazy to right now lol.

Arthur/Merlin:

Again, just like with Steve and Bucky, this is an obvious case of “famous royal golden hero of legends” and “less well-known but ultimately extremely important companion who follows him to war”. Like Achilles and Patroclus, Arthur and Merlin meet before Arthur is a famous warrior and become friends long before the “big war” that ultimately tears them apart.

Arthur and Achilles might be the famous warriors, but Merlin and Patroclus are the kind-hearted, brave, fiercely loyal companions who serve both as a fellow warrior on the battlefield, and as a moral compass. Just as Achilles looks to Patroclus for advice and as a tether to the humility and importance of humanity in the face of a great destiny, Arthur looks to Merlin.

Both Patroclus and Merlin seem at first to be ordinary men who (in the eyes of most casual observers) aren’t worthy of Achilles/Arthur’s friendship. However, they both become legendary figures of their own, without whom their legendary heroic counterparts would never have survived.

As I mentioned in the section about Hannibal and Will, the theme of hiding and revealing identities is very important in the story of Achilles and Patroclus. One of the biggest plot points in Merlin is that Merlin can’t reveal that he has magic; he doesn’t do so until the last episode, once Arthur has been mortally wounded.

Just as Patroclus always believed that Achilles would live up to his great destiny, Merlin always believed in Arthur. And even though Arthur didn’t know about Merlin’s true potential and role in his rise to the throne, Arthur believed that Merlin was one of the best, most courageous men he’d ever met. This reminds me o Achilles referring to Patroclus as Philtatos (in The Song of Achilles), meaning “best of men”.

In an inverted parallel, Arthur is the one who is stabbed and ultimately dies. Although Achilles does eventually die in war, it isn’t until after Patroclus dies. It is then implied that they will eventually meet again someday, just as Achilles and Patroclus would meet again in the afterlife after their ashes were mingled together.

Dean/Cas:

In this relationship, Dean is very much the “reckless hero with a pre-ordained-by-the-gods destiny who is actually very flawed and carries a lot of self-doubt” and Cas is the “companion with a heart of gold who is almost embarrassingly devoted to the hero and will do anything for him”.

For Dean/Cas, there is also the parallel of struggling with a toxic parental figure who demands too much while also being emotionally absent and manipulative. For Dean, this is John Winchester, and for Achilles, this is Thetis. Cas also struggles with his relationship with his father (who is literally God lmao) and his desire to be a good soldier vs. his desire to do what’s right and to protect the man he loves.

Patroclus strives to help Achilles see that he’s more than just a weapon, and Cas and Dean both do this for each other: Dean helps Cas realize that he’s more than just another emotionless soldier of heaven, and Cas helps Dean realize he’s more than “daddy’s blunt instrument” (the phrasing of which I will still be laughing at in my grave. Thanks, CW.)

Dean’s godly destiny as Michael’s vessel is determined before he’s even born. Achilles’s godly destiny is also determined before he’s born, and neither one really has any say in it.

Patroclus ultimately dies in Achilles’s place, and Cas does the same for Dean many times. When Cas decides to help Dean escape heaven and try to save Sam and stop the apocalypse, he sacrifices himself to help Dean get away. Of the many times Cas puts his life on the line, it’s usually either to help Dean, or to save him. This is reminiscent of how Patroclus did almost everything not in the name of winning the war, or even the greater good (although he was obviously a good person), but to protect Achilles and keep him from getting himself killed.

Whenever Cas is dead, Dean’s mental health visibly deteriorates. He becomes more violent and unpredictable—a worse version of himself—just as Achilles did after Patroclus died.

Just as Patroclus acts as a tether to humanity for Achilles, Cas and Dean both act as tethers to humanity for each other. Cas pulls Dean out of Hell, restoring his humanity, and Dean helps Cas shrug off his emotionless angel identity and find some humanity of his own.

TLDR: Reckless blonde hero (or villain) with a legendary destiny/reputation and badass fighting skills + their viciously loyal brunette companion-slash-lover who's willing to die for them at a moment's notice = good shipping material

#i literally can't help myself literary parallels are my favorite thing #hannigram #stevebucky #merthur #destiel #stucky #patrochilles #hannibal #merlin #spn #supernatural #tsoa #patroclus and achilles #literary parallels #meta #kind of #artemis speaks #long post

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amortensie-moved · 3 years ago

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nixie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have no one else to talk about Siren's Lament to, so hopefully you don't mind me coming into your askbox to scream but—

The way I have been sLEEPING on shon by not talking about him!!!!!!!!! Not mentioning him is actually a crime because he's so kind and sweet,,,,,, simply a beloved. He's honestly such a fun character and a really great example of the friends to lovers trope (which I simply adore). And I honestly really appreciate the depth he's still given, despite very easily fitting into the "best friends to lovers role".

Like!!! He has such a complicated relationship with his family that stems from loving them and wanting to be with and care for them, but also yearning for less responsibility from how overwhelming it is. He loves his brother and sister and is there for them despite having such a complex relationship with his mother (which I kind of wish was mentioned more but there's so much plot done so well so it's fine) and feeling both hurt and guilty over it and I just,,,,,,,, love complex family relationships in media, and shon!!!!!!!! He is certainly delivering <3 And just,,,,,,,,,, he works sO. HARD. for everyone around him and himself. He does so much and helps Lyra out with the flowershop despite it going against his initial dream of sailing away because he'd do anything for the one's he cares about, and his dream wouldn't be satisfying if they aren't happy,,,,,,, there's just so much to unpack with his theme of the thin line between selfless love and martyrdom..... shon is quietly delivering one of the most compelling stories and I adore that for him, actually. And I think his whole green heart business is so powerful, actually, because like,,,, ofc the whole theme of the strength of his love still tethering him to his memories, but also, the way he'll reject his love sometimes because it can be painful to hold onto! The responsibility of love! How it can be beautiful but also difficult! How it's work and sometimes it feels so thankless or beyond your means,,,,,,,, but how you hold on still because you want to and you CHOOSE to...... just,,,,,, SHON.

And lol, I also just love the dynamic he has with Ian. Them interacting is comedy at its finest, and I'm so glad it's still translating over, what with him still not having his memories where I'm currently reading (episode 154).

(Also, don't TALK to me about his scenes with Coen. I adore sibling bonds where one is old enough and responsible enough to be like a parent (especially as they have no father) and just,,,,,,,, the scene where Coen asks if Shon remembers him in ep. 154 and shon's first instinct (even without his memories) is to say of course!!!!!! Kskgjdlsslgllal,,,,,,, I am having a mental breakdown. To lie and say of course to shield Coen from all of the worries Shon probably never wanted to feel! The fear of not knowing how to reach someone after they've lost their memories, even and perhaps most especially if person is yourself,,,,,,,,,, sTOP— I'm just a little unhinged when it comes to sibling relationships and shon,,,,,,,,,, he has the range.)

Anyway,,,,,,,,, heh,,,,,,,, who is your favorite character? Personally, there are too many good one's to choose from, and I could write essays on everyone, but so you have a preference? Also ‐ what about the love triangle? Who do you ship?

(I'm personally a Lyra x Shon shipper,,,, Ian has been second leading this story sO. HARD imo,,,,, but I still love him <3 sksksks.)

olive!!!!

do not worry my friend, your rambling will always be welcome in my inbox <3

you are so right about shon!!! honestly he deserves all the love in the entire world. i am an absolutely SUCKER for the friends to lovers trope but really him!!! he is so well crafted!!! i absolutely adore how the author creates her characters because they are all so dimensional and amazing 😭 honestly he is just a perfect execution of the trope because he is so sweet and such a wonderful person!! i love how despite the slow burns and pains of miscommunications usually found in the trope, he still respects lyra and so obviously cares for her ♥️

and his family!!! i love how got to see that side of him because it is so relevant and reveals so much about his growth. i had to mention it but the coen scene?!!??! 🥺🥺 the amount of times i curled myself into a ball because that scene was just so precious and soft and heartbreakingahdbjabdan. the sibling relationship is just AMAZINGzdbns

you articulate it so perfectly that i can’t help but sit back and listen because so true!! this webtoon is just <333

i dont know if i can choose a favorite character because they are all so amazing and wonderful 😭 i love ian’s playfulness and growth i love shon’s dedication i love lyra’s perseverance and tua and pele are just so phenomenal! perhaps tho i would say i have a soft spot for lyra because she is such a compelling character! i relate to her in some ways and i like how even though she fits with the typical female protagonist, she is still unique and so so strong. i’m a lyra x shon shipper too! i just love their affection for one another, and also!! i love this portrayal of this love triangle because despite the love conflicts, the three still care for each other and the banter is just so fun and engaging ( love triangle or not, they are an amazing trio )

#love triangles HURT but they are such a guilty pleasure fjsnfjjajs #you have to tell me your thoughts when you finish it BECAUSE THE ENDING!!#i love a compelling ending because this one>>>#i have many thoughts and tears about it #olive tag #mutuals #letters #long post #lit: siren’s lament

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corinnesamuels · 4 years ago

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Guarding the Gates, Chapter 3: No More Questions, Please.

. . . the Ministry of Magic requests that anyone with information on the whereabouts of any of the aforementioned witches and wizards listed as missing contacts the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at their earliest convenience, as their families would like to see them home. Up next: The Ministry of Magic reports the recent hurricanes reported in the West Country are the work of giants in league with You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters—

“Merlin and fucking Morgana.” Lily curses, running a hand over her face roughly in frustration. The mental notes she had been taking were beginning to look like a NEWT-level essay, but she still hadn’t gotten word that it was time to start working. She watched the skies each morning for owls and even checked the muggle post. Dumbledore had always been peculiar, and if she didn’t know better, she might have thought he’d forgotten.

“I would advise you to rest up, Lily.” He had said in their last meeting. “Once we begin in earnest, breaks may be few and far between.

Lily sighs and lets her attention drift back to the wireless. They had shifted from missing persons and calamities to the upcoming Celestina Warbeck concert. It was almost odd to catch the juxtaposition, but people do need joy in times like these.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Lily looks up to see a barn owl tapping at her window. She opens the window and offers up pieces of bacon to the owl, which hoots happily as it sticks out a leg. Lily unties it and begins to do a quick scan, but the first line lets her know that it wasn’t from Dumbledore.

I’m back, bitches!

Lily laughs out loud, recognizing the telltale greeting style of one Dorcas Meadowes. Lily guesses that Dorcas just sent the same letter to her, Marlene, and Mary to save time. Dorcas talked a bit about her time with family over in the States.

Disco is dying, sadly, but there’s this new upbeat thing happening that I expect to really take off. They’re calling it “rap.” Race relations are still shit, but there’s a little progress, at least. I was hoping I’d be able to at least say the same about pureblood mania in England by the time I got back, but by the looks of things, the opposite has happened.

“You’re right about that.” Lily says to herself dejectedly. At the end of Dorcas’ letter, she recommends they get together soon, and Lily couldn’t agree more. She writes a quick note saying that she can’t wait to catch up and offers up her flat as the gathering place. Lily taps the letter with her wand three times to duplicate it and sends the letters back off with Dorcas’ owl. As it flies away, she thinks of how excited she is to see them, but how difficult it might be for Mary. Lily hopes that gathering in a private place will help make Mary comfortable enough to join them but understands if it doesn’t. Mary had been more timid than the other girls in their year, and a timid muggle born was unfortunately too easy of a target for the Death-Eaters-in-Training over in Slytherin House. Since they’d finished school, Mary had taken a job in muggle London. Not sure that she wanted to risk being the focus of more attacks, she limited her interactions with the wizarding world as much as possible.

Lily doesn’t judge Mary or blame her. But Lily didn’t have anything tethering her to the muggle world anymore. Petunia wanted nothing to do with her. Her parents and the rest of their family were all gone. And when she thinks of her life ten and twenty years from now, it’s always filled with the same wonder she felt when she first discovered the expansiveness and sheer possibility of magic. She thinks of children from non-magical families that need a safe space to learn and grow. She thinks of how the magic running through her veins is as much a part of her as the eyes she inherited from her father or the hair she inherited from her mother. And if that meant fighting for a place here, for herself and for others, then so be it.

The next day a letter comes from Marlene saying she had a few days off from St. Mungo’s and would be in attendance. Among other things.

I’ll bring takeaway too. I don’t have faith that Lily’s cooking has gotten any better in the last four years.

“Tramp.” Lily mutters.

A letter never comes from Mary to let them know if she would attend or not, but she was the first one to stumble out of Lily’s fireplace a few days later.

“I made a last-second decision because I’ve missed you terribly.” Mary says nervously. She tucks a blonde lock of hair behind her ear and looks at the floor before looking up at Lily. “I brought the good stuff, too.” She says, gesturing to a box containing several rather large bottles of mead sitting on her hip.

Lily, who had been searching for a record to put on the player when Mary stumbled in, scrambles to her feet to take the box from Mary. She places it on the ground and immediately envelops Mary in the kind of embrace that makes it difficult to breathe. Mary quickly returns it, holding on to Lily for dear life. Lily feels her shoulders quake slightly and knows that Mary’s eyes are becoming as damp as her own. Yes, Lily had missed her friend dearly. She’d missed all of them. But knowing that Mary fought through her demons to see her? Lily isn’t taking that for granted.

“I’ve missed you.” She says when they take a step back. Lily uses her thumbs to wipe tears from Mary’s face before using the back of her hand to handle her own.

“I’ve missed you more.” Mary says through a watery laugh that Lily returns.

“Now this ‘good stuff’ you say you brought,” Lily says once they’ve gotten themselves composed again. She reaches into the box and pulls out one of the bottles. “Rosemerta’s Oak-Matured Mead, eh? Mary, you spoil us!”

“Yes, well. I wanted it to feel like we were sneaking it into Gryffindor Tower again.” Mary smiles.

“James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter were terrible influences on us.” Says Lily with a smile at the memories of her sneaking through Hogwarts tunnels with James to get supplies from The Three Broomsticks for various occasions. “Why didn’t we start hanging out with them sooner?”

“Because you said James was a git.”

“Well, in my defense, he was at the time.”

Lily and Mary look at each other and break into laughter as Lily’s fireplace turns green again. Dorcas and Marlene step out in quick succession and begin screaming and scooping Lily and Mary into a loud, weepy group hug.

“Oh my God, Mary!”

“You came! I’m so happy to see you!”

“Lily, you’re really back for good?”

Once they settled and begun wiping away tears, Lily summons four glasses and plates. “Mary splurged on us birds and got us the good stuff.

“Is that so? Do I need to put out?” Dorcas asks. “Because if this stuff is as good as I remember when we were sneaking it into the tower, then I might not mind too much.” She says happily as she helps herself to the mead.

“Not necessary, Dorcas, thank you, though.” Mary laughs before looking around at the girls anxiously. “My boyfriend might not like that.”

“Well, you kept that quiet!” Lily says.

“I’ve only been here a few minutes!” Mary replies. “He’s actually the one that got the mead. I . . . I’m still not quite comfortable in public wizarding spaces. It feels too exposed. Especially with things getting worse. But Reg knows I’ve missed you guys and told me that he’d do whatever he could to help me feel comfortable enough to come.”

Marlene, who had been laying out the food she’d brought, looks up and places a hand to her heart. “Mary, that’s beautiful.” She gushes.

“Right. Tell me, Mare,” Dorcas says, scooting closer to Mary and bumping her shoulder lightly. “does he have any brothers?”

They all laugh, and Mary shakes her head. “No, Reg only has sisters.”

“Better luck next time, I guess.” Dorcas sighs.

“Well, I’m flexible, so let me know if any are single.” Marlene wiggles her eyebrows, and they all laugh again.

“Reg . . . this wouldn’t happen to be Reginald Cattermole, would it?” Lily asks as she swirls her mead around in her glass.

“That’s the one.” Mary has a soft smile and a dreamy look in her eyes. “He’s been so good to me. Incredibly patient and kind.” She looks down at her feet, a smile still resting across her face. “He encourages me not to give up on the wizarding world and goes above and beyond to make me feel safe. I couldn’t dream of a better situation.”

Lily’s heart feels lighter than it has in months as she listens to Mary explain how she and Reginald had randomly run into each other on one of Mary’s rare wizarding excursions. It’s beautiful to know that people are still finding and experiencing love, even when it seems like the world is burning. She wishes that she felt like this was feasible for her.

Honestly, had she not been distracted, she might have seen what was coming next.

“So, Lily.” Marlene begins with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “You and Potter finally making the beast with two backs, or are you still both pretending that you don’t want to?”

“Marlene.” Mary scolds as Dorcas laughs.

“I was wondering who was going to ask.” Dorcas grins, leaning in closer to get the details. Lily rolls her eyes.

“James and I are, again, just friends.” Says Lily as she throws a few chips at Marlene. “And besides, he has a girlfriend.”

“Ah.” The other three girls say in unison before dissolving into giggles. Lily is frustrated to find that she can’t prevent herself from joining them.

“Why don’t I have better friends?”

Dorcas gestures around the room. “Because we’re the best there is, love.”

“Ta.” Marlene says, raising a glass in salute before taking a large swallow and pouring herself another.

“Now look, on a serious note. We don’t have to do this.” Dorcas says more kindly. “But Lily, why on earth didn’t you two get together in the first place? We all thought it was just a matter of time. The boys too.”

Marlene and Mary’s eyes wander from Dorcas to Lily, waiting to see what kind of answer they’ll get. Whether it’s because Lily is happy to see them, dying to talk to someone, or pleasantly tipsy, she doesn’t know, but she surprises herself and decides to tell them the truth.

Read the rest at ao3

#Lily and James #Jily fic #Jily #Jily Fanfiction #harry potter #fanfiction #Lily just has a lot of feelings #Lily finally snaps on Miranda #first wizarding war

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distortingbones · 3 years ago

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oooh you tagging me on that canon divergence post made my brain go ‼️‼️‼️and actually helped me solve a plot problem I had!! So thank you!!!! And I’m so psyched that you’re invested 👀 fr tho i LOVE canon divergence so much holy shit, both reading and writing it… and like that is exactly how I write it, I’m like “oh what if X” and then suddenly im juggling plot changes like a fuckin clown

aaaaa i'm so glad!! and YES i am deeply invested, honestly do it all anew is my favorite currently-updating TMA fic!! each update has given me so much serotonin so thank you for that ☺️

i think canon divergence is SO fun!! altho i don't have the time to write fanfic these days i love how like. fanfic as a medium allows folks to break free from traditional storytelling mores and do something like rube goldberg a plot? when writing original stuff i obsess about making my plot as tight as possible to its central thesis and themes, whereas with fanfic you have the freedom to be looser, indulge in your "what if"s, play around with different themes, go on tangents, figure it out as you go.

and part of why i love your writing so much (both do it all anew and resigned though not to fate) is because you're really skilled at finding a balance between establishing strong themes, building a compelling plot that has a coherent and emotionally resonant arc, while also playing in the sandbox that is fanfic and indulging in what ifs. it results in a really satisfying story that leaves me going "YES this is how TMA could have been if it started the same but the story was built around different themes and told a different message."

and personally i go apeshit over do it all anew because i LOVE the questions you explore, which are touched on but never expanded in canon, like - how can shared trauma both bring people together AND push them apart? in canon we *see* the apocalypse's strain on jon & martin's relationship but also martin *tells* jon that their relationship is built on shared trauma. and canon doesn't explore and complicate that!! because there isn't space for it!!

but meanwhile in do it all anew, you start out like "ok so they sleep together because of the unknowing" which seems like the setup to a cut and dry "shared trauma brings people together." but then it isn't presented as a natural climactic moment of romantic connection in the face of danger, it's complicated by the reveal that the sex was a *performance* on jon's part because he felt like it was the only way to express his feelings. and it leaves martin with this tenuous connection to a partner he thinks is dead, that he then has to navigate on his own - making the aftermath of their making love something that's both deeply lonely and a thread of connection to a person he thought he'd lost forever. so bittersweet and tragic!!! and then when jon cuts the tether and they lose aamal, that's a shared trauma that *destroys* their relationship (i presume??? i know we're not quite there yet.) but then aamal coming back to them is a traumatizing event for her that is also the entire foundation for her forming a relationship with her fathers. augh it's so deliciously complicated!!

and another super compelling question being - is it possible to rebuild a relationship that has been irreparably shattered, if the cause of that shattering is belatedly softened/negated? or does the fact that you've had to live with the trauma and hurt and anger and sadness of that shattering for a long time make it so that even if the initial "problem" is solved, you can't undo the hurt you had to feel enough to access the love you originally felt for that person? in do it all anew this is obviously aamal returning to jon and martin several years after the fact. but the shattering-that's-belatedly-solved problem exists in canon as well, to a lesser extent, when jon dies and comes back, and when martin pushes jon away/chooses the lonely during s4 and then it turns out he's actually fucking with peter lukas. but canon never dives into the emotional aftermath of those events and how they affect jon and martin's relationship (safehouse fics do though so god bless fanfic writers).

and i'm really excited to see the moment where jon becomes the pupil because it's like. is it forgivable to choose saving countless strangers over saving your family, your child? is it forgivable to do the opposite? which choice is the greater evil? which is a question that AGAIN is touched on in canon but mag 200 is too damn short to really tackle it, plus in canon we don't see the aftermath somewhere else, PLUS i think the existence of a baby, an innocent who you love more than life and are responsible for, makes it SO much more complicated. like!!! how inconceivably guilty must jon feel about starting the apocalypse that he would choose to kill his daughter and his partner as an alternative to spreading the fears? how inconceivably guilty would he then feel when after it all, he goes against what he feels is right and he and martin STILL lose aamal? how inconceivably betrayed would martin feel that jon would choose strangers' lives over his family's? could he ever forgive jon for that? AUGH it's so TRAGIC and COMPLEX i can't wait to see what you do with it!!!

anyway that was accidentally an essay that i spent an hour tapping on my phone but. thank you for this fic!

P.S. if anyone else is reading this, do yourself a favor and read do it all, anew because it is STELLAR and jevonne crit20lesbian is a gift to this fandom ✨

#i'm in grad school and i also make VNs as my side career #so all my writing energy goes into either papers or academic stuff #it's a shame bc i have a couple TMA fics i started working on but never posted because i knew i couldn't finish them #anyway this isn't about me tho #crit20lesbian #ask #i leave comments on ao3 but i need time to digest before i have coherent thoughts #but i also want to comment immediately after reading because i know otherwise i'll procrastinate or forget #so my comments are usually pretty short and nonspecific #so consider this like. what i WANT to say on ao3 but can never articulate at the time lol

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sapphicscholar · 4 years ago

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49 and 50 maybe? :-)

Hey there!

49) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

Hah! Yes, College Confidential! It was a super long Willow/Tara fic (part of an even longer series) on ff.net that got a nod on an Autostraddle Buffy fic rec list. It's been a while, and I don't remember many details since it's not one I've ever reread, but it was basically a deep look at how they might have met and how their relationship might have developed in a no-magic/vampires/slayers human AU (where, ya know, Tara lives).

50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Smut for sure! I actually have a really hard time both reading and writing fics that are primarily or exclusively fluff or angst. I think both have their place in larger arcs, but sustaining angst over a long, protracted fic often feels like it verges too close to womp for me personally, and fluff (which my wife sometimes adores! so I totally get how it appeals!) can sometimes feel too sickly sweet for my tastes. Obviously there are a billion-and-one ways smut fic can go wrong, too, but I really love how creative fic writers can get with thinking about desire, pleasure, and intimacy in ways that aren't tethered to the really normative scripts too many of us are fed. And thinking about how different characters relate to intimacy and sex is an interesting way to think through their histories, their relationships to themselves and their bodies, to other characters, etc. I could go on about this for a really long time, so I'll stop myself before this turns into an essay, but yeah! Thanks for the fun questions, anon!

Feel free to send me any of these writer asks!

#writer asks #ask me anything #i will try not to ramble too long

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kingofthecon · 4 years ago

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@femmechanceux

#1 "You know what rhymes with Bugaboo? Me and you." It was a pretty boring night of patrolling so naturally Chat Noir decided to fill the air with anything and everything just to keep them both entertained. His vibrant green eyes focused more on the task at hand - keeping an out for trouble - than they did on his partner, but when his eyes did meet her form for an extended period of time he couldn't help but grin. Running around Paris late at night with a lovely lady by his side helped him to forget about his life outside of costume. It helped his mind come up with all sorts of entertaining ideas which drove away all the reality shattering ones that came with common sense - one of the recent things being what'd happen when they finally defeated Hawk Moth. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that one day they would actually catch Hawk Moth slipping and manage to not only take him down and retrieve his Miraculous, but also learn his identity and lock him away forever, but what would come next? They wouldn't be able to keep their Miraculous anymore, would they? Sure there would still be crime left in Paris, but that could be handled by the officers of the law instead of vigilantes like them. What did that mean for his friendship with Ladybug? Would they just...no longer be able to see each other? No, that was stupid. Ladybug might not be interested in him because of her crush on someone from her life outside of the mask, but that didn't mean they couldn’t be friends. They'd make a way. "It's been a lot of times recently where it's just been me and you, and though I do love spending quality time with my leading lady, I can't help but wonder when the ball's going to drop. I don't want to jinx it, but the last time we found someone who was akumatized it was Mr. Pigeon and that was nearly a month ago." He had most certainly been keep tracking. Between the photo shoots, collabs, and interviews along with school, his fencing class, and a few side activities, there wasn't much of any activity from Hawk Moth. He doubted the man had suddenly fallen off the face of the Earth, but there had to be something at play. Then again his sidekick, Mayura, had been hurt in her last confrontation with the rest of them. Maybe the two of them were an evil couple and Mothy had to take some time out of his akumatizing schedule to take care of her? It was sweet even though they were both evil - taking joy in turning people into their minions all in a vain attempt to get the Cat and Ladybug Miraculous. Then again, what if her sickness was the reason why Hawk Moth was trying so hard? Maybe the reason they'd shown their costumed faces was because of desperation, and Hawk Moth had gotten a mad power-up from her to boot. She hadn't been in the game until recently so maybe that was it? It was something he'd been speculating on a while now, but hadn't had enough evidence to support this theory which meant he hadn't said anything to Ladybug about it. He probably should at some point, but not even now seemed like a good time. "He's too annoying to just give up and go on vacation, so maybe he's wrapped up in some supervillain HR meeting where they talk about their failures and how to go about achieving their goals while eating muffins from the cafeteria." It was random and probably outlandish. The goal was to make her laugh, especially when he was about to say something that might cause a bit of an issue between them. Yeah, butter her up before telling her that he won't be around for a little while because a friend of his father had done some contest and had picked three kids from nowhere to take on as apprentices or something and Adrien would be with them for a while. It was just a publicity stunt and collaboration thing, but it was an extra added activity and with everything else he had to do something needed to be cut out, and it wasn't like Ladybug only had him to rely on considering she could dish out the Miraculous to other people. It would be fine. "I don't think there's any crime afoot tonight," he offered teasingly after they stopped near the Louvre for a break. He stretched both arms over his head and yawned before flopping down in a cross legged position. "Which is convenient because...well, I won't be uh, be around for the next few weeks at least." Best to just rip off the bandage. "My family is going to be particularly busy and I won't be able to get out of certain obligations so if there's an emergency you'll have to get one of the others. I'll try to sneak away, but you'll have to treat any threat that might crop up like one that I won't be able to help you fight in." Just saying that made him feel like crap. If an emergency came up and someone got hurt because he prioritized taking pictures with some contest winners over fighting crime then he would have to live with that guilt, but his father would be watching and if he even tried to get out of something like that the consequences would make him being Chat Noir period even harder when things weren't incredibly busy. If he wanted to keep being being a hero then he was going to have to do whatever it took to keep his father off his case. This was one of those situations where there were no good options to take. "I'd better head home. I have to wake up early. Well, earlier than usual." He turned back the way they'd come, which was in the opposite direction of his home actually, and ran off. He was out of his lady's sight he changed the direction and took a different route home. He de-transformed, fed Plagg a few pieces of Camembert and raced the rest of his way home - entering through the front gates and not stopping until he was in his room.

"Okay Sixer, how'd this happen?" Triplets Stanton, Stanford, and Stanley sat in their shared bedroom - Stanley and Stanton; or Shermie as he liked to be called - sitting on either side of their brother Stanford as he read the letter in his hand for the fourth time in silence. There had been a bit of a contest months ago created by a man named William Chiffrer. He was looking for individuals with a wide variety of talents that ranged from athleticism to intellect. Stanford had of course sent filled out the necessary forms on top of going above and being by writing an entire essay about why he believed he should be chosen...he'd also sent out the necessary forms for his siblings and tricked each of them into writing a bit of an essay of their own. He didn't think any of them would be accepted. William was a man of many talents, but what had caught Stanford's attention was the man's intellect. William had the ability to create his own language - something that he and his siblings had done when they were younger...little ciphers that only they could understand, but William? As far as Stanford knew the man had at least three different languages of his own under his belt, a company that didn't seem tethered to him, and ideas of deep sea and space exploration that he had no qualms with sharing to the masses. In other words, the man was an actual genius who had absolutely no problem flaunting it. Stanford was envious, intrigued and well, William was his idol. That meant he wanted to learn from him and this contest? This contest would be his one shot. He, however, didn't want to go in alone. The sound of someone playing with a paddle ball close to his face caused him to jerk to attention. His eyes traveled to his left where he saw Stanley, the sibling that was identical to him minus the fingers, waiting impatiently for an answer. To Stanford's right his slightly older fraternal sibling looked unimpressed already having an idea of what'd taken place though the chances of all three of them being picked was...highly unlikely. "It's not that difficult to understand," the middle triplet said as he pushed himself off the bed and paced the center of their bedroom floor. "More so, improbable. The chances of the three of us getting chosen for this opportunity of a life time is simply astronomical. It's--" "Not the question, Poindexter. Sherm and I didn't enter this sleaze ball's contest. I know I suck at math, but I'm at least a hundred percent sure that us not enterin’ means we both hadda zero percent chance'o winnin' anything. Howzat possible, I wonder." One look at his brothers had rooted to the spot - both hands behind his back as his started to get nervous. Stanley continued to play with his paddle ball, but his attention remained on Stanford while Shermie let out and exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry! I don't know what I was thinking. Well, of course I know what I was thinking. It would be incredible to have William Chiffrer as a mentor. His vast knowledge of the world and its inner workings - despite being quite controversial - has merit and have been shown to be more than just plausible. This man has plans to change the world and the means to do it and it would be remiss of me to pass up the opportunity to work under the man himself. I just did not wish to go alone so I took the liberty of signing contest forms for the both of you while feeding you false information about an extra credit essay where you had to convince the President of the United States of why you would be a great addition to the White House." "Wait, that's not what you told me," Stanley said with narrowed eyes while slowly lowering the paddle ball. "Errhm, yes well, you having to convince a potential suitor's father of why he should let you date his daughter seemed more plausible than the Presidential angle, I'm afraid. Now, even if only one of us came out victorious in this raffle the winner is permitted a plus one! Had either of you won instead I would have hoped that you'd allow me to tag along." "And yet Pa calls me the shyster. I am so proud of you.” Stanley wipes an imaginary tear from his eye while Stanford glares at him before turning his attention towards Shermie who’d finally lifted his head. His expression was exasperated yet thoughtful making it clear that he, at least, wasn’t going to make such a huge deal of out it. Between Stanley and Shermie, the latter was much more academically inclined and when opportunity struck he tended to let it in and treat it like a friend. Paris, France was a place that these three boys from New Jersey would never in their wildest dreams imagine being able to visit - not with how much of a penny-pincher their father was. For a while all there had only been a pair of glasses between them which Stanley and Shermie had agreed to let Ford have indefinitely. ”This is a once in a life time ordeal, isn’t it?” Shermie questioned after letting the silence linger. They were teenagers with no real funds to their name. If they went to college it would have to be on a scholarship - Stanford had at least four lined up, Stanley could possibly go for football, and Shermie had his hands in a little bit of everything. Other than that, there was nothing for fancy trips to far off lands like France, so right here? Right now? Yeah, it definitely seemed as though this was going to be one of those once in a lifetime deals. The brothers looked at each other, Stanley sliding off the bed to punch Stanford in the arm before leaning against his shoulder while Shermie continued thinking. Finally he stood up and crossed his arms. "That was an underhanded trick you pulled Ford, but I can't say that I blame you and a trip to freaking France? The City of Love? We'd have to be crazy to pass up the opportunity." "Ugh, love," Stanley griped, immediately turning sour causing Shermie to look a little guilty while Ford rolled his eyes and elbowed him good-naturedly. His breakup with Carla McCorkle had been a messy one. Karma seemed to strike at both Carla and the boy she'd cheated on Stanley with, Thistle Downe, in the form of someone riding his van into a ravine. According to reports it had been someone dressed up in some sort of costume with a tail. Either way love was currently a big flaming no-no in the Stan Triplets's bedroom...except for Shermie. "Perhaps it would be in your best interest to invite Veronica along, Shermie." Ah, the turns immediately tabled as Stanley's frown disappeared to be replaced by the biggest, doofiest, mischievous grin he could muster while Shermie's face turned a nice shade of tomato red. He sputtered while Stanley darted out the room to make the call leaving Stanford to block his big brother in - the commotion the duo made their mother had to warn them about roughhousing in the house and to take that mess outside. Stanley snickered, his Ma gave him an idea. Outside and to his car he ran after hearing his brothers on the stairs. When they realized that Stanley wasn't inside the brothers raced outside to see Stanley checking his pockets for his keys. Suddenly Stanley was on the ground laughing after having been tackled by Shermie which left Stanford - innocent little Stanford - to head back inside and make the call himself. "Hello, Mrs. Carlyle? This is Stanford Pines. Is Veronica there?” There’s a particularly loud wheeze from outside that catches Stanford’s attention. He looks to his Ma and shrugs before going back to his call. “Hello, Ronnie? You won't believe the good news. Do you recall that contest I entered for the trip to Paris, France to study under THE William Chiffrer? Exciting news. Not only did I win, so did Stanley and Sherman. I...will explain later, but each of us gets to bring a plus one. I am cordially inviting you--"

Talon had seen the threat coming a mile away and he actually tried to draw attention to what was going on. With him being who he was he held rank in his uncle's organization, but it only extended so far especially when the side of evil thought they'd had the victory in the bag. It was the same song and dance time and time again. They thought they had the inspector, he'd goof around and somehow come out on top with the help of his niece, and then Claw would vow vengeance the next time they crossed paths. It got old, and Talon was tired. He was tired of constantly losing when he knew that he had the skills to come out on top. In fact, he was pretty sure he could overthrow his uncle instead of working as his underling, but as things were? His street cred had plummeted. All the losses caused by Penny and her uncle set him back time and time again. The villain circles he ran in started giving out awards for the most failed missions and he had somehow gained the lead. It was embarrassing and degrading and it was about time he'd think about his future. If he wanted to show the world he was more than just that bumbling oaf who happened to be Claw's nephew then he needed to branch out and re-establish himself, perhaps even go back to the drawing board. It was when he realized that no one was going to heed his words did he decide cut his losses. He'd grabbed Penny and her dumb dog and pulled them to safety with the parting words of, “Catch ya later, Penny,” before going back into the fray. He had a mini force field surrounding him which was, in theory, supposed to be strong enough to protect him from any type of explosion. He didn't think he'd actually be in a situation where he'd be testing this out, but he didn't have too much time. He was looking for something in particular before things went side ways. It was as though his eyes landing on his prize was the trigger which launched the explosion. He cursed, a bright light blinding him before he was propelled off his feet and backwards. He clicked his heels together until the rockets activated, and he hastily righted himself, but he still slammed against through the wall behind him. He should have snapped his back. He should have been covered in flames, but instead survived - barely able to get a handle on the situation. For one thing his force field was still holding up and he’d managed to what he’d gone back for - a bejeweled box which was what his uncle had been after. Luckily whatever he was holding was also covered by his forcefield. Not only that but this explosion was the chance he'd been waiting for - to get away from his uncle and lay low, preferably with a family member that was on the opposite side of the law. You know, a good guy. It helped that he’d been straddling the fence for months now - working with HQ a bit due to some sob story he’d fed Penny which meant he definitely had an alibi. People saw him save Penny. People knew that this scheme of his uncle’s had absolutely nothing to do with him. Whatever happened here couldn’t be pinned on him. Talon’s boots were totally ruined when he activated them - they only had a few seconds of righting him before the thrusters at the bottom went off in mini explosions that luckily hadn't harmed his feet - and found an agent of Claw that was roughly his size though totally unrecognizable. He removed his boots and shoved them onto the remains and dragging it over to a still burning flame. His forcefield protected his feet from the heat, but it wouldn't hold for too much longer. Even now the heat was already starting to penetrate and he had to run. With the forcefield having protected him from the brunt of the explosion some of his other tech remained as well. There was a prototype cloaking device he'd had installed that ran on the same 3D holographic projector tech he tended to use for a quick and easy disguise. He swapped modes and from his belt a little barely noticeable light extended, scanned his form, and bent the light around him making him appear invisible. He made it half a block invisibly before the forcefield conked out with the invisibility following next which meant that his 3D projector was also down for the count. He paid it no mind as he'd taken that into consideration and made sure to avoid any areas that seemed busy. He didn't need anyone to see him running around barefoot and covered in soot. Besides, no good villain worth their salt went around town without a cache of some sort and he was near his closest one. It was a rundown apartment building which, on the outside it just looked a little lopsided; could use a little TLC. On the inside? Oh, the building looked as though it should have been condemned before his Uncle Claw was born. It was perfect, and it was where Talon cleaned himself up, changed into a set of clothing that was not his typical purple though did include another set of rocket boots, and combed his hair flat on his head giving him those infamous "Boy Band Bangs" which were partially hidden by the hood from the jacket he'd decided to wear. He left the apartment and, despite knowing it was a bad idea, made his way back to the scene of the explosion. There were HQ agents, a bomb squad, the fire department and of course police officers everywhere as well as a crowd. He spotted Inspector Gadget who'd apparently made it out unscathed as usual, and he even saw a few of Claw's men being apprehended. He shook his head. There had never been a fight between him and HQ that had gone so far in as long as he could remember. He clicked his tongue and whispered, "C'est la vie," as he walked away - washing his hands of this botched operation as well as his Uncle Claw - for good. Once far enough away and pulled out his cellphone, took a deep breath and placed a call he'd never thought he'd make. "Hey Billy. It's, ugh, Tristan*. Is that offer for help still on the table?" William Thaw* sounded visibly confused on the other end of the line, most likely because he'd been sleeping at the time. When he realized that his cousin was in need of help he woke up just a bit more. "You need a place to stay, Mr. Big Shot Criminal?" That was not the tone that Talon was hoping to hear, but it wasn't entirely unexpected either. Most if not all of their family was evil including Billy's dad. Even their grandma was evil, but no one had really given Billy the memo so he turned out to be one of the good guys. With him and Talon being roughly the same age and having lived together with their grandma for a while, there was always some form of disagreement or the other, especially when Talon had learned of their family's history and chose to follow in their footsteps. It was why he'd swapped his name from Tristan to Talon as a sign of respect for his then role model Dr. Claw. "Is this the part where you give me a huge speech about right and wrong or heroism because if it is you can save it. I’ve branched away from Uncle Claw months ago and a good thing too because he messed up big time. I tried to tell him his plan was bunk from the get-go, but he went ahead with it anyway even after I warned him about a gas leak. Then I tried to tell the stupid henchmen that the explosives they were planting were going to trigger an even bigger explosion but I’m not on the payroll anymore and apparently a bigger explosion the better. They were so concerned with making sure they got Gadget - that’s their entire thing but...Usually no one gets fatally hurt and a few people did. That's not the kind of villainy I signed up for." For a moment he thought Billy'd hung up on him, but then he heard the ruffling of blankets and the clicking of what must have been a lamp being turned on. "People died?" "One as far as I was able to tell. I was caught in the blast too. ForcefieId tech saved me and I managed to get a few people out before the blast but yeah. I'm sure it'll be on the world news if it isn't already." "What do you want from me, Tris?" Hearing that nickname hurt. "I want to initiate protocol Redo." "Never thought you'd say that." The sound of Billy getting out of bed could be heard. Moments later the sound of a computer or laptop being booted up sounded through the line. "Tell me about it. I thought I had everything planned out. Didn’t take into account that Uncle Claw’s gotten senile in his old age." "Luckily we're both deceptively smart and plan for things that we don't think we'd ever need then, huh?" "You call that luck. I call that being smarter than everyone else. Even if you don’t think it’ll ever happen to you plan for it anyway, especially in this line of business.” ”Especially.” Talon finally stopped walking when he reached a twenty-four hour fast food place where he plugged in his phone and ordered something so that he wouldn't be bothered. "I assume you handled Talon?" "Died in the explosion that took out a few senior HQ agents and a few of Claw's henchmen. Identifiable only by his rocket boots." The line was silent aside from the clicking of keys. Talon ate silently while he listened to his cousin work. A few hours of Billy working he finally came to a stop. "Tristan Thaw is in the system once more. You did a thorough job of wiping him out. Can't say that I'm surprised. I've altered Talon’s files. You're now your own twin, congratulations. You were put up for adoption at a young age but there was a missing person's report due to you running away. Your file was closed because you were presumed dead. People will most likely stumble upon this now while trying to pull up information about Talon so...in the off chance that that happens. Call me, and I will say I've been hiding you in my dorm." "No. I can't do--" "You will, Tristan. Despite the incredible foolishness of this family it's the only one I have. Despite how everyone around me is a bad guy from the worst comic book tropes I've ever read, this family still manages to take care of each other. I'm in a boarding school because I didn't want to be part of the family business. Someone in the family is paying for me to be here. You've protected me inadvertently a few times, and Uncle Claw has taken me under his wing a time or two, and I am also the first person grandma taught her cookie recipe to. The point is, despite this family being nefarious in every sense of the word, we ALL protect each other, and you came to me for help. You did what you could to stop something horrible from happening, and it happened anyway. If worse comes to worse I'm sure Uncle Claw would help--" "Gonna stop you right there. I don't want his help, otherwise I'd have gone back to the lair. This is...let him think I'm dead. You're the only one who’ll know the truth." "Of course. Well, if you can manage to get from where you are to Paris there's an apartment that seems to have been paid for. Has been in my name for a while. I'm thinking Grandma made me a few safe houses just in case I decided to turn rotten, but you can stay there." "Thanks Billy." "You can thank me by not pulling this stunt again." "Or I'll just say thank you and move to your safehouse."

---TIME SKIP--- ONE MONTH LATER

When Billy told him about the safehouse in Paris he probably should have expected the place to be pretty well furnished and in a decent part of the city. It wasn’t exactly flashy, but it would probably garner the attention of his neighbors. Luckily he had a backstory figured out, a passport, a birth certificate and other documentation that he needed. Luckily for him there was nobody looking for him, and even if they were they certainly would have no reason to look for him in Paris. It was the perfect escape for him, and definitely gave him time to himself. He didn’t want to drop the villain thing, but if he wanted to become a huge contender then he was going to have to change his image. He was going to have to one up the competition and finally...he was going to have to down his uncle. For now, he had to start small. For now he had to blend in with the masses, build up a bit of a rep while staying in the shadows until he could build his own empire. Luckily for him he had a few connections already.

The three dorks staying across from him had arrived a few days after he moved in and made quite the impression. The one with the six fingers had bumped into him and apologized profusely for not paying attention to where he was walking and flailed his hands a bit. Talon, or rather Tristan made the faux pas of commenting on his fingers aloud which seemed to cause some embarrassment. Another boy, had to be a twin or something, heard the remark and was making his way over with his fists clenched causing Talon to remark that he’d never seen something so cool before. It seemed to be the right thing to say as all three of them somewhat relaxed while heading up the stairs. That’s where Talon encountered the third of them realizing that he was staying across from a set of triplets. It was a bit awkward at first, before the boy with the glasses answered his question about what they were doing in Paris. “I didn’t know that Willy had a contest going on. You guys must be pretty smart if he chose the three of you, and siblings to boot.” Of course Talon knew very well that Willy wasn’t exactly a good person. The guy was sophisticated in public, but in private he had a bit of sadistic streak and was pretty psychotic in some instances. Yeah the dude was an actual genius, but he also gathered great minds and exploited them. The fact that he’d gathered three brothers, triplets no less? Something was definitely going on. “You say that as though you know the man personally,” Stanford stated while his brother, the one with the slightly darker hair (Shermie) opened the door and Stanley carried some stuff inside. “Not at all,” he immediately shook his head. “I tried to enter his contest before as well. I actually made a hoverboard--” “Like from Back to the Future?” Stanley asked as he kicked his box into the room. Talon nodded and said,"Exactly like that," while Stanford looked skeptical. That was the start of their...he wouldn’t exactly call it a friendship but it was pretty close. --------------------- Adrien hadn’t been expecting to be invited to the triplet’s apartment building after their initial gathering and photo-op with William and his father, but he had accepted the invite anyway seeing as it would allow him to spend some time with teenagers his age while using his father’s tactics against him. “I was supposed to meet up and help the Pines’s today for an hour before meeting Kagami for our fencing lesson? His father had simply nodded through the tablet monitor that Nathalie was holding. Adrien took off soon after that with G manning the car. When he’d arrived at the apartment it was to an open door and the triplets arguing over what they wanted to do first. There was also another boy there, arms crossed and back against the wall with a smirk on his face. Adrien had the feeling that he’d been the cause of this little argument. “Am I early?” he’d asked which drew the triplet’s attention. “Yer right on time, Aiden.” “His name is Adrien, be nice.” The identical brothers bickered between themselves while Sherman shook his head and beckoned for Adrien to come inside before closing the door. “Just go. It’s not a big deal.” All eyes turned to Talon who pushed off the wall and raised his hands. “Of course it’s a big deal! He can take his girl all over Paris after we celebrate. We’ve been here for a week and haven’t burned our apartment down. This is a cause for celebration! Let the Pines Brothers party for a day,” Stanley argued with his arms crossed. Shermie just covered his face in his hands and sighed. "Or we can go get Ronnie since she may as well be a Pines, grab some snacks and celebrate here?” “Stanford Filbrick Pines--” The two outsiders watched in amusement as Sherman tried to grab the six fingered boy who ducked behind Stanley and then into the kitchenette practically dragging the loudmouthed boy with him. “So um, who are--” “I live across the hall. Gotta admit these guys have been the best entertainment I could have possibly asked for. What about you, Mr. Agreste? Working a charity case here?” Adrien was partially confused and partially offended by the question. “Not at all. I was invited over.” “Oh, that makes more sense.” He hadn’t elaborated on that making Adrien narrow his eyes before the triplets re-emerged from wherever they’d been in the apartment. Stanley had his arms crossed while Stanford was scowling. Shermie looked far less ruffled than the other two which meant he’d proven his point. "Sorry about that, you two. The plan is we’re going to call my friend to have her meet us here then head out for a celebratory get together. Since you two are the only people we know here we’d thought you’d be up to joining us?” The fact that Adrien had made three new friends who wanted to hang out with him brought a smile to his face, but then he thought about his obligations and the other friends he’d had to turn down. His smile turned a bit sad before he shook his head. "I’m really sorry you guys, but I can’t stay for very long. My schedule is booked solid. The only reason I was able to slip out was because I told my father that I had to help you three for an hour before I have to practice my fencing.” Talon lunged at the air in front of him, swinging around an imaginary rapier before snorting, “Can you be any more of a cliche?” Even Stanley cracked a smile at that before lunging towards Talon with his arm out, the two of them swiping at each other with their invisible weapons, Stanley beginning to talk like a pirate while Shermie was in the process of calling Ronnie to let her know of their plans. “Ignore them,” Stanford said while giving his brother and Talon a glare that went completely ignored. “It’s what I do when they get like this.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” was Adrien’s annoyed reply. A second later he found himself being dragged into the sword fight by Talon before Stanley grabbed an unwilling-to-participate Stanford. “My first mate will absolutely swab the deck with ye’s!” “Stanley no.” “Cap’n Lee thinks he kin board me ship and spread ‘is tall tales, but we’s a learn’em.” “Tristan don’t encourage him!” Stanford’s words went ignored as Talon managed to grabbed a decorative pillow from the couch and chucked it at the six fingered boy yelling, “CANNON BALL!”. Taking it as an immediate out, Stanford dramatically fell to the floor, sat up and positioned the thrown pillow beneath his head, and then laid back again. “Nooooo, Sixer! I shall avenge ye!” He ran towards Talon only to be intercepted by Adrien as he slid in front of the other boy. Stanley’s eyes widened, surprised at Adrien’s speed, and he tried to stop before colliding. Adrien moved out of the way as quickly as he’d come while Talon remained there holding out another of the pillows which he used to smack Stan in the face as he came to a stop. Stanley dropped to the ground dramatically like Stanford had and made gurgling noises since the unwritten/impromptu rule was that the pillows were cannon balls. The four boys laughed before Stanford got up and put the pillows away with a shake of his head. Stanley was glad to have managed to get his brother to participate. It had been a long time since they’d done something like this and it made him think that this trip to Paris was a good idea, especially after having met “Tristan’ and Adrien.

#femmechanceux #—Swindler's Folly #► Opossumus Prime #► Triple Threat #► Gadget HQ #—X-0vers #Tristan is Talon's name in the French version #William Thaw is the son of Dr. Thaw #Billy and Dr. Thaw are both from Gadget and the Gadgetinis #Dr. Thaw is Dr. Claw's Twin

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chrysocomae · 4 years ago

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Please share this essay from a healthcare worker from r/CoronavirusUS

What to expect when you get critically ill from COVID-19. A healthcare worker’s perspective.

"I am a healthcare worker who has volunteered to be a part of the COVID ICU “proning team” at the hospital where I work. I am writing this because my colleagues and I had a long discussion today about how disconnected the public is when it comes to the harsh reality of this virus and what it does to people. I will describe in as much detail as possible what you should expect to “experience” when you get critically ill from COVID-19.

By the time I meet you in the hospital, you’re already intubated in the ICU. This means that you likely started feeling terrible enough to get yourself to a hospital and then got admitted into said hospital. Your condition worsened to the point that the medical team determined that your best chance of survival would be to place you in a medically-induced coma and hook you up to a ventilator that literally breathes for you. The process that leads up to this point is traumatic, terrifying, and lonely. You are allowed zero visitors and your only interactions are with strangers that come into your room unannounced, wearing what look to you like hazmat suits. The hospital you’re staying in isn’t equipped with enough “negative-pressure” rooms to contain the virus and keep it from spreading to the hallway so there will be a giant window unit that pumps all the air from your room out the window vs allowing it back into the hospital. This window unit is LOUD (similar to a generator) and it will drive you absolutely insane because it MUST be running 24/7. So, you’re just going to have to accept that. As terrible as all this external hell feels, it’s nothing compared to what’s going on internally. Your body is deteriorating. Every breath is a gasp. Turning over to face the door when you hear a knock is impossible because you are literally THAT exhausted. Your oxygen levels continue to drop, even though you are being pumped MASSIVE amounts of pure oxygen through your nose (which is now bleeding constantly because it is completely dried out). The oxygen levels drop so low that the only course of action is to make you comatose, give you a paralyzing agent so you don’t thrash, and place you on a ventilator. Ok, so NOW let’s get to the bad part.

You’re laying on a bed, on your back. Unconscious, naked, Foley catheter in your urethra, and maybe (if your nurse is lucky) a FlexiSeal in your anus to collect all your diarrhea (look it up if you have questions). A ventilator is placed down your throat, somewhere between 20-28centimeters down. It will probably move around if it’s not tethered, which is a no-no, so it will be taped to your head/face. We’ll come back to this later, because that tape will eventually mess up your face, maybe permanently. A feeding tube goes down your nose because comatose people can’t eat, obviously. So your diet is now a nutrient-packed yellow mushy soup. Yum! Ok this is the basic setup.

Even with all this medically-engineered hoopla, you continue to deteriorate. The ventilator is running 100% oxygen down your throat, into your lungs but still not enough is getting into your blood. This is where organ failure starts to happen. Kidney failure, brain damage, etc. And this is where me and my “proning team” show up at your door.

Prone = laying on your stomach.

Supine = laying on your back.

Proning = turning you from your stomach onto your back.

Why do we do this? Well, to simplify it, the back of your lungs are bigger and better at oxygenating your blood. But when you’re laying on your back, all the fluid (LOTS of fluid) in your lungs accumulates and fills the back of your lungs - thus drowning them and making them much less effective. Flipping you onto your stomach causes that fluid to move to the front of your lungs (because gravity), freeing up the back of your lungs to do their better job. Honestly, it’s pretty amazing to see how quickly you will go from 79% oxygen (SpO2) to 93% as soon as we turn you onto your stomach. It’s very satisfying for us. Makes us feel proud. We’ll pat you on the back, literally, and give you kudos for this oxygen accomplishment.

We will plan to leave you in this prone position for somewhere between 12 to 18 hours. Your head is turned to the side, otherwise the ventilator tube would be rammed through the back of your mouth. Don’t worry, we will position this for you, you’re paralyzed, remember?

Once those 12 - 18 hours are up, the prone team comes back in to flip you back over to supine. This is where things can get ugly. Being paralyzed and on your stomach leads to A LOT of swelling/edema. Especially in your face. Your tongue has swelled up to ~5x it’s normal size and it doesn’t fit in your mouth anymore. Lips swell x5 times, too. Your eyelids have been taped shut but they’re swollen too. It looks like you have golf balls under your eyelids. Now, remember that tape that holds the ventilator tube in place? Well, it’s still holding tight. And with all the face/mouth swelling, I should emphasize the word TIGHT. You’ll be in this condition for a while. Maybe a week, maybe two, maybe three. That tape will get replaced daily but it will do some damage to your skin, especially your lips and ears. And since your blood isn’t getting proper oxygen, your body isn’t great at healing wounds. So, expect your face to look a little different for a LONG time, if you make it out alive. I now can say that I have seen a living person’s cheekbones. Not the form of the cheekbones, but the ACTUAL bones, because their wounds on their cheeks got so bad that the flesh necrotized and sloughed off during the friction involved with a head turn.

Where were we? Oh yes, we just flipped you back to supine. The 5 of us will be doing some routine care on you: wiping you down with Chlorhexidine Gluconate (CHG) wipes, putting Venelex cream and Mepilex patches your bed sores (think bony prominences - knees, clavicles, sternum, shoulders, nipples, shins, cheeks, etc.), using a suction device to suck up all the secretions from your mouth and nose, cleaning up your diarrhea from EVERYWHERE and changing that pesky face tape. Don’t worry, we’ll be gentle.

Now, it’s been maybe 10-15 minutes on your back. We stand back and assess how you’re doing. If you’re a champ, your oxygen levels stay in the low/mid 90s and we can leave you like this for 1 to 8 hours before you start deteriorating again, at which point it’s back onto your stomach.

The idea is that each time we put you back in supine, you’ll be able to maintain longer and longer periods of time before your oxygen drops to the 80s or 70s (or 60s, 50s, 40s, you get it).

The longer you’re in this ICU situation, the worse it gets. Eventually, we have to start doing all the routine care from the side-lying position, because putting you on your back could literally kill you. The supine position becomes intolerable - your blood pressure starts to plummet, your heart skips beats or shoots up to the 200s (or just stops) and your oxygen level drops immediately. So, unfortunately, you go back onto your stomach. More swelling, yay! Repeat this process daily and hope for better results each time. The more often we have to repeat, the less likely you are to survive, because it’s an indicator of how poorly your lungs are recovering.

Now, this is the point where someone might ask, “why are you keeping this person alive? Isn’t it inhumane to prolong this person’s suffering? What quality of life will they have when/if they survive?” Unfortunately, that’s not our choice. Even more unfortunately, it’s likely not even YOUR choice. Who’s choice is it? Your Medical Power of Attorney (MPOA), which 9 times out of 10, is a family member. Now, remember, there are zero visitors allowed for COVID-19 patients. That means that your family is getting ALL the information about your condition from a phone call or texts messages from someone on the healthcare team. Your family can’t see you and they can’t talk to you. Thus, they simply cannot appreciate just how much you are suffering. How could they? It’s not their fault. They love you. They’re praying for you. They’re wondering if they are making the right choice but they are doing so without all the information, because a phone call from a doctor or case manager can only go so far.

Above all, they are holding on to hope. Hope that you’ll come back from this. That you’ll be that patient in that next news video that gets the standing ovation as they’re wheeled out of the hospital because YOU MADE IT. And I hope you do, too. We all do. We care about you. If you make it out of that ICU, you’ve got months of rehab ahead of you. Your fight for life has JUST started. The success story is that, against all odds, you didn’t die.

Or, maybe you did. As I write this, 170,000 people have died from COVID-19 in the US alone. Each one of those people had a story, a life, a family, dreams, goals and a future. So many of them suffered tremendously through their last days, with strangers. Now they’re gone, forever. And that ICU bed is ready for the next one. I hope it’s not you. I hope it’s not your mom, dad, grandpa, aunt, sister, child or neighbor. But if it is, you can count on me and my coworkers to be gentle with you and treat you with dignity and respect. We will do everything in our power to get you home. This virus doesn’t care about your political affiliations, your plans, your freedoms. It doesn’t care about you at all. So we will.

Now, if I may.....please wear your damn mask.

Edit: The title says “when you get critically ill.” Emphasis on the “critically ill.” This is NOT what the average person should expect when they test positive. Most people DONT get critically ill. The VAST majority of people will never even see a regular hospital room, much less the ICU - I tested positive and I recovered at home with no medical intervention. Most will have mild symptoms and then recover. That being said, this post reflects a real possibility and a current reality for many people. I want people to understand the harsh reality of COVID-19. It affects everyone differently and taking small, practical precautions can keep you from ever having to wonder “is this going to happen to me?” or “did I get grandma sick because I didn’t take this seriously?” I apologize that this came off as fear mongering. The post reflects my experience as a healthcare worker and I feel that the public hasn’t had enough of that experience other than “we are overworked and tired.”

#covid 19 #covid19 #coronavirus usa #coronavirus #coronapocalypse #2020 election #election 2020 #usa #us politics #trump #fuck trump #pandemic #wear a mask #wear a fucking mask people #masks4all

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10oclockdot · 4 years ago

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10oclockdot 2020 year in review

As I seem to drift farther and farther from tumblr (though the #Peace posts and my side project on On Kawara keep a thin tether attached), 2020 actually saw me stepping more solidly into my stated vocation as an academic, even if I also lost my job as a university professor this year. Trying to look on the bright sides.

Here we go:

10. I got my first properly peer-reviewed article accepted for publication in 2020. After 2 years of submitting to journals and a protracted review process, “Why is Reverse Motion Funny?: Happy End and the Comic Potential of the Cinematographic Mechanism” was accepted by Journal of Film and Video for publication... TBA. Based on some gossip I read online later, I might be waiting upwards of two years for the article to ever come out. But hopefully not. Either way, it was accepted, and that’s at least something for the CV.

9. Will DiGravio’s excellent The Video Essay Podcast (here) was a great companion this summer while I was working on a big project (see #1), and just for fun I decided to complete some “homework” he assigned on the podcast. My submission is here. Everyone else’s submissions are here.

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8. Early in the year, I updated a compilation of all the times John Ford used the hymn “Shall We Gather at the River” in one of his films. An eagle-eyed YouTuber found one more. Here’s the new version.

7. When some prominent Math YouTubers put out a call for videos on favorite numbers greater than a million -- aka #MegaFavNumbers -- I couldn’t see a reason not to join in, and made this video, based on one of my old tumblr posts. In it I also mention that as of late 2019 I’m also published on the Online Encyclopedia of Integer Sequences. Not sure if I ever mentioned that here. Anyway, contributing a #MegaFavNumber seems like a fitting project for a year in which I also became a math tutor. (Here’s the full playlist.)

6. I didn’t make much art this year of note, but this bit of constrained poetry executed as a 10-part conceptual painting is easily one of the best and most important artworks I’ve ever made (if any could be assigned importance).

5. I finally watched Twin Peaks: The Return. Here’s a post I made about that, which somehow became the most popular new thing on the blog this year. Aphelis also liked this gif I made for him. Nobody seemed to understand this post (or maybe I just think it’s better than it is), but that’s okay, I guess.

youtube

4. I started a new video essay series called “Video Postcards.” There are only two so far (”About Time,” and “Drone Swarms”), but the idea is to keep making them on a regular basis (monthly, maybe?). The concept is that each video is addressed to a friend of mine, and I weigh in on some topic that we’re both interested in and have talked about before. I actually SEND the addressee the postcard you see me writing in the video, with the link written out on it. After they view this private video correspondence, they get to decide whether the rest of the world will get to see it too. So far 2 for 2.

3. It was hard to write much that was meaningful this year politically (at least, it was hard for me). But I still wrote a short story that I’m proud of called Somewhere in the middle of an angry mob in Jerusalem, ca. 2000 years ago (here). I wish every Evangelical Christian in the country (my heritage) would read it. Oh, I also drew this cartoon about who establishment democrats really are. Oh, and this diagram over on Facebook about the inscrutable slowness of the apocalypse.

2. My first professional publication came in the form of a long data-driven article for Bright Lights Film Journal that dropped back in January: “Tracking Mass Ideology on IMDb’s Top 250: How Shifts in Societal Values Appear in the Popular Film Canon” (here). The Bright Lights people were so easy to work with that I’m looking forward to writing another article for them in the new year, if they’ll take it. This article even drew the attention of the great film reviewer Darren Mooney (of the m0vie blog), who invited me to record an episode of his podcast The 250 (here) on Sherlock, Jr. (Buster Keaton, 1924). We taped it a couple months ago, but it should land in the new year. I’ll share it here when it does.

1. And, of course, after three years of work and a rejection from [in]Transition, my first feature-length project, a video essay called A Supercut of Supercuts: Aesthetics, Histories, Databases, was accepted for publication at Open Screens Journal. It should be live in January. I’ve also sent it out to some film festivals with what little money I could scrape together for that purpose. Hopefully at least one of them wants to play it, so I can add some laurels to that poster!

See you next year!

#year in review

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bssaz97 · 5 years ago

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Rowan’s Trip To Beacon (...Sorta) #2

-Beacon Academy (Volume 2 Time)-

Rowan: So do you all believe me when I say that I’m Ruby and Jaune’s future son?

Ren: Well given how you have been able to back up all of your claims, I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t trust you.

Weiss: I’ll have to agree. Despite the complexity of it all...what you’ve said so far is true.

Rowan: Great! Now could we go see Headmistress Goodwitch?

Blake: Actually that’s something I want to ask you about. Why do you want to speak to Goodwitch of all people? Wouldn’t you want to speak to Headmaster Ozpin?

Rowan: Yeeeeeaaaah no. I don’t personally have anything against the headmaster but he may try to, well, interrogate me.

Yang: ....And you think Goodwitch won’t?

Rowan: Don’t worry it’ll be fine. I know Miss Goodwitch, she’s one of the nicest people out there. *innocently smiles*

RWBYJNPR: .....

Nora: Are you sure about that?

Rowan: Yep. In fact here she comes right now. *points behind them*

The two teams look behind them and to their horror they do in fact see Professor Goodwitch walking straight towards them. Her expression was anything but welcoming though.

Rowan: Welp. We should probably go see if we can talk to her- Whoa!

Yang grabs the young boy and throws him into a bush hedge to avoid detection from the absolute livid Headmistress. She wasn’t sure why she did that, perhaps it was her familial instinct kicking in. Also they would have an easier time explaining ‘how their leaders destroyed the courtyard’ instead of ‘how their leaders destroyed the courtyard AND transported their future son to the present.’ It felt weird to think how Ruby managed to get married and have children before her, was SHE even married in Rowan’s time? Questions for later, right now they had to face the “Wicked Witch of Beacon”.

Glynda: *stops in front of them* Mr. Arc and Miss Rose, why am I not surprised by the fact that both of your teams are present at the scene of disaster?Perhaps you could care to explain what transpired in the time between now and the sound of a Bomb exploding the main courtyard! *She exclaimed irritably*

Ruby: Um...w-well...you see...w-what happened was-*figets under Goodwitch’s gaze*

Jaune: It’s my fault Professor! I was showing Ruby an experiment that I made in Dust Studies but it got out of hand. I’m really sorry!

Ruby: Wha-? Jaune what are you doing?! *whispers*

Jaune: Do you really want Goodwitch to know you snuck a possible bomb to Beacon? *whispers*

Ruby: No but I don’t want you to take all the blame! *whispers*

Jaune: Just trying to be a good friend. *whispers*

Goodwitch: You students should know, whispering is more effective when the person you are whispering about can’t hear you. *leans in*

Ruby/Jaune: .....crud.

WBYNPR: *facepalm*

Glynda: Well then, since Mr. Arc admitted to both of your involvement in all of this, I believe it’s only fair that you share in the consequences as well Miss Rose. Your honesty is much appreciated Mr. Arc.

Ruby: Yeah. Thanks Jaune. *sarcastically*

Jaune: Sorry. *hangs head*

Glynda: Now about your punishment. I believe since this is all your doing, you two will spend the remainder of this semester in detention. Along with this, you will have to write ten thousand word essay on the dangers of Dust misusage and why students should not think of it as toys. The essay shall be hand written, work cited by the library, and then turned into me personally during my office hours before the end of the month. Also this will be apart of both of your grades in my class. Am I to be understood?

Ruby/Jaune: Yes mam...

Glynda: Good. Now then you both should get started soon, as there are only two weeks left in the-

Rowan: Hello! *popping from out of the bushes*

Glynda: Good Gods! I mean-‘cough’ Can I help you?

Rowan: Actually you can. You see I was taking a tour with my dad who works as a janitor here but I lost track of him. Could you help me call him for me please? *takes out his scroll with his best innocent face*

Glynda: ...I suppose I don’t see any harm in it. Although I should let you know that your father will have a stern talking with me about leaving children unattended at this school. Also that taking ‘tours’ without my or the Headmaster’s consent is highly frowned upon.

Goodwitch takes Rowan’s scroll, when she takes a look at the device she gains a confused face.

Glynda: Strange... I wasn’t made aware that they were making new models for Scrolls.

Rowan: Actually this a prototype I won in a contest. I’m supposed to be beta testing this one before they announce the new models later on.

Glynda: Oh I see. *nods* Although could you tell me how to select the Call function, this new design is very... foreign to me.

Rowan: Sure thing. *Gets it front of her and puts on some shades* Just hold down that red icon and let go after three seconds.

Glynda: Thank you. You’re quite a polite young man if I do say so-

*FLASH! (Neuralizer Sound FX)*

Both teams saw that a bright light flashed in Professor Goodwitch’s face, and now she had a blank expression on her face. Rowan then takes off his shades to pockets them and then gently takes the scroll from her grasp.

Rowan: Boy that was crazy Miss Goodwitch! We just got done doing a late class experiment outside in the courtyard but things sorta got out of control when a fault box of SDC Dust was sent to the school. Luckily nobody was hurt so that’s a plus... but not so much for the courtyard. Although you’re just happy nobody was hurt and remember I’m a visiting student that won a contest to tour the school for the weekend and teams RWBY and JNPR are assigned to look after me. Also there’s no homework or for the weekend.

Glynda: *blinks* ....oh. Yes of course the contest I do recall. I apologize you had to experience that Rowan, our dust shipments are usually more careful about this. Mr. Arc, Miss Rose could you please escort this young man back to the dormitories, I believe we’ve had enough excitement for today.

Ruby: .....Uh ok? *looks confusedly at Goodwitch*

Jaune: Yeah Rowan...let’s get back to the dorms. *starts walking back towards the campus*

Weiss: Wait a minute. What about their essay?

Glynda: Essay? Miss Schnee, I understand your desire for academic success but I have not assigned any homework for this weekend. You all should take time to make preparation for the Vtyal Festival coming up instead of focusing so much on your grades. *she chastised*

Yang: Yeah Weiss-cream let’s back to the dorm so we can get ready for the weekend! *places her hand on Weiss’ mouth and pushes her forward*

Weiss: Mmphf!

-Team RWBY’s Dorm-

Ruby: What the heck did you do to Miss Goodwitch?!

Yang: Yeah one second she’s turning Rubes and Vomit Boy’s into chop liver and the next she leaves them off scot-free?

Weiss: Now she believes your some tourist at the school.

Rowan: Yeah I kinda figured you all wanted an explanation for that. Well to put it simply, I erased a portion of her memory.

Blake: You erased her memory?!

Rowan: Not all of it... just the last 25 minutes to be exact. More than enough time to cover over the incident that Mom and Dad caused and give her a new one to fill in the gap. So now Goodwitch is not mad at you guys, Mom and Dad don’t have write an essay and I can roam around without a second thought.

Weiss: .....you know I’m actually starting to believe that you have spent time with my brother.

Rowan: Ok to be fair it was Mr. Whitley’s idea to add the neuralyzer to my scroll. I didn’t consent or anything, just said if I was ever in a fix to use it sparingly. Plus I only can use it three times to per day otherwise it has to recharge.

Pyrrha: And you’re completely ok with erasing a poor woman’s memory?

Rowan: Not really, I try to avoid using it if I can but I kinda wanted to help Mom and Dad out of a tough situation. But you don’t have worry about that, she’ll be fine. The neuralyzer doesn’t cause any lasting damage..... I think.

RWBYJNPR: .....

Rowan: But in any case, I’m stuck here for the foreseeable future, or at least until someone from my time tethers me back. So in the meantime we should probably spend some time to relax and hang out. *lays down on Weiss’ bed*

Yang: I’m starting to like this kid.

Jaune: But before we do anything, there’s something we should probably establish before we have you go walking around. First, you should keep the part about being our kid a secret.

Rowan: Ok. Sounds like a good idea Dad. *nods*

Jaune: Also, you should probably stop calling us ‘Mom’and ‘Dad’. It’s gonna lead to a lot of weird questions.

Rowan: Ohhhh yeah, you’re probably right. Ok, anything else.

Jaune: Yeah the less we know about our future, the better. So nobody, and I mean EVERYONE in this room, should ask you serious questions about the future.

Rowan: *nods* Yeah I don’t wanna pull a Back to the Future and blip out of existence.

Ruby: Wait you know what Back to the Future is?

Rowan: Yep. You and Auntie Yang made it a point to watch Classic Movies when me and Summer grew up.

Ruby: ...who?

Rowan: Oh right I didn’t say. My sister’s name is Summer P- Rose 2nd. You named her after grandma.

Ruby: I.....wow. That’s...I don’t know what to say.

Rowan: *raises his hands* It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything yet. You still have A LOT of time before you even think about stuff like that.

Jaune: Ok you see this? *points at both of them* This is what I’m talking about. None of this ok, we don’t want to make anything more weird than it needs to be.

Rowan: Ok so keep my mouth shut. Got it! *gives a thumbs up*

Blake: Do you mind if I do ask something real quick?

Jaune: Wha-? Blake, we just established no asking about our future!

Blake: This isn’t a personal question. I don’t need to have my future told to me.

Jaune: ‘sigh’ Fine. Ask away.

Blake: Rowan, do the White Fang ever succeed in their mission of invading Vale?

RWY: BLAKE!

Jaune: The hell?! That’s not any better!

Blake: You said to not ask personal questions. This is a situational question, therefore it won’t effect my personal life. So Rowan, what happens?

Rowan: ... I’m not gonna tell you that. *serious tone*

Blake: What? Why?!

Rowan: Oh I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to find out about future events that may transpire now or later. So I’m sorry but no I’m telling you anything more than what I need to.

Blake: Rowan, this could be life or death!

Rowan: And if I did tell you, you would want to stop it. But what you don’t realize is that if I were to tell you any information regarding that, not only would that jeopardize my future but everyone else’s future also. Time is NOT something you want to mess around with, because things could get a lot worse by just changing the smallest thing about the timeline.

Blake: *looks away* ...I-I’m sorry Rowan I didn’t think-

Rowan: It’s ok. I get where you’re coming from, but trust me it’s better off this way.

Blake: Ok...

Jaune: Ok so does everyone agree not to ask too many questions about the future?

RWBYNPR: *nods*

Jaune: Great. Now then, Rowan why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself. You don’t need to go into many details, just your likes, dislikes and hobbies.

Rowan: S-Sure thing Da-Sorry! I mean Jaune. Um.... let’s see. *holds his chin in contemplation* Well as far as my likes go: I like to read comics, spend time with my family and friends, and hear stories about-well, both of your teams adventures. Which I guess hasn’t really started yet hehe.

Yang: Well I guess hero worship just runs in the family then. *looks at both Jaune and Ruby*

Rowan: Well you did tell me most of those stories Auntie Yang, so you are partially to blame. *laughs*

Ren: You mentioned wanting to become a huntsman before, any particular reason?

Rowan: Well to put it simply, I always looked up to huntsmen as role models for me. Not because they’re flashy or cool, well not completely. I decided to train to become a huntsman because they serve as beacons of hope for humanity and keep the dark forces of the Grimm at bay. So if I can help in that, if I can make sure that I can protect even one person and keep them smiling then it would be worth it.

Ren: *nods*

Nora: *gets up close* I just have one question for you and it means life or death.....pancakes or waffles?

Rowan: Pancakes duh? You made sure of that Auntie Nora.

Nora: *ruffles his hair* Yep he’s good!

Rowan: Anything else on your minds?

Ruby: Oh I got one! What’s your best memory with ‘Dad’ here? *points at Jaune*

Jaune: Really Ruby, didn’t we just established no calling us his parents?

Ruby: What you said nothing about his personal life.

Jaune: ‘sigh’ Fine. You get a pass, Rowan what’s your best memory of us?

Rowan: ......... *blank stare*

Ruby: Uh Rowan?

Rowan: Oh I’m sorry! I was just thinking, Hahahaha! Wow, best memory with Dad? Um, wow I-I mean there’s...so many memories I have of him it’s kinda hard to tell! Um.......uh......best m-memory? Uh, you know what it was probably that one time that me and him went to an amusement park and he took me on a roller coaster for the first time! Yep that was a great memory! *scratches the underside of his jaw*

Ruby: Oh...well that’s cool.

Rowan: Yeah it was awesome! Say do any of you know if the mess hall is still open because I’m starving actually! Guess time travel can make a kid hungry! *laughs nervously*

Nora: Yeah they should still be open. Ren you’re and I can take you if you want? *gestures to Ren*

Ren: Yes we wouldn’t mind taking you there.

Rowan: Cool! Sounds like a plan! Well... I’ll see the rest of you in a bit!

Yang: Hey Rowan, mind if I tag along?

Rowan: Sure I don’t mind. Anyone’s happy to come along if they want.

RWBJP: We’re fine.

Rowan: That’s ok! We’ll see you later!

The group of four leave to go to the mess hall to find something for the young boy to eat, leaving behind a silence in the room among them.

Weiss: I’m going to assume that we all know that he was lying about that last question.

Jaune/Ruby: Yup. *they nod*

Pyrrha: But that just begs the question. Why would he lie about something concerning Jaune? From his demeanor before, he seemed to have a close relationship with his parents. So why lie?

Jaune: That’s something I hope we can find out?

-Fin of #2-

Hope you all enjoy this next piece! Getting back into the groove of things, so I’ll start getting back to writing regularly. Thanks for all the support and hope you all have a great day! Stay safe and stay smart out there!

Also here’s the sound FX if you guys were wondering:

https://youtu.be/czI4d8ziaPA

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #lancaster child #rowan rose #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #blake belladona #nora valkyrie #lie ren #pyrrah nikos #time travel

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ms-maj · 5 years ago

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Into Philadelphia

Back to the songfics! Sorry folks…only not really :)

The many many many many thank yous are owed to @bettycooper for making this much, much better. Cat is a rock star. ‘Nuff said.

We’ll slip away, we’ll slip away

I’ll count the days, I’ll count the days and weeks until it’s summer

Baby do you wanna take a ride, wanna take a ride

Into Philadelphia

Think I maybe wanna take a ride, do you wanna take a ride

Into Philadelphia

Straight into the belly of the dream

Into Philadelphia- John Faye

“Do you think maybe you want to get out of Riverdale this weekend?” His voice is soft over the phone, not like he’s trying to hide what he’s saying, but because that’s how he always speaks to her. Betty leans against the frame of the window, feet tucked up on the seat beneath her.

“I think that I definitely want to get out of Riverdale for the weekend.” Even though Jughead’s miles away at Stonewall Prep, his laughter fills her room—their room—and makes the familiar space feel more like a home than it has in a long while. “What did you have in mind?”

Jughead has been at Stonewall for three months, seventeen days, and too many minutes than she could bear to count. She knew this was his shot, even if he was a parvenu awash in an endless sea of the bourgeoisie. (See, she could be a pretentious twat too.)

They try to make the most of their weekends together, but occupying the same space as her mother, her boyfriend’s father, and said boyfriend’s younger sister proves that nearly impossible. Hurried kisses. Fumbling, fast, furious hands grappling with too many layers, and skin seeking skin even if for the most passing of moments. Besides, the omnipresent doom that seems to pervade Riverdale doesn’t give them much time to just enjoy each other’s company.

“Do you trust me?”

“While I realize your question is completely rhetorical, it still baffles me why you think for a second you’d have to ask me that?”

If she closes her eyes hard enough, she can picture his hand swiping across his brow. “Fine. Bring a bag when you pick me up on Friday. We’ll leave straight from here.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“Cute. I should probably get going. I have two essays to write and calculus…why am I taking calculus?” Another soft laugh filters through the phone before turning into a sigh.

Betty smiles sadly. Even their phone calls are shorter and fewer in between. “Okay, go be studious. Is there anything I should know about where we’re going or what we’re doing?”

“And here I thought your trust in me was immutable. You wound me, Cooper.”

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“For packing purposes, Jones. You can’t tell me to bring a bag and not tell me what kind of stuff I should pack in it.”

“Well, less is more.”

She gets off the window seat and makes her way toward the closet, opening the doors and thumbing through the contents. “I assume we’ll have to leave wherever it is we’re going at some point. Will that require leggings, jeans, or perhaps something a little nicer?”

He hums as if considering. “I suppose you could bring something nice…even if it only sees the floor.”

“Now, now,”’ she tuts, “ before I let you go back to the maddening world of academia, do you need me to bring anything from here?”

“I’ve got everything I need except you,” Betty feels the warm affection bloom in her chest, the space in her heart carved out exactly in his likeness.

She tries—almost successfully—to mask the threatening tears with a cough. She can hear the sadness in his voice as he tries for her attention. “It’s not what you think, Juggie. I’m fine. Everything is fine!” The words ring even more false out loud than they do in her head.

“Which is exactly why we’re going away. Because I hate this too, Betts, but…”

“I know; I know. I’ll let you go. I know how much you have to do too.”

They can’t sleep together yet, but there’s solace in knowing it’s coming soon and in isolation for once.

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

It’s cold in Riverdale. She assumes that wherever they’re going will be cold as well considering it can’t be too far away for a weekend trip. Betty’s glad she didn’t have to convince FP to let her use the station wagon. Apparently, whatever Jughead has planned was given the “okay” by at least one parental figure. Not that this says much, but she’s certainly not going to kick a gift horse in the mouth. She’s also glad they’ve got the vehicle with consistent heat.

Time seems to be ticking by even more slowly than it had while waiting for classes to end at Riverdale High, but in the parking lot of Stonewall Prep, time is a paradoxical construct. At least that’s what it felt like anyway. Jughead’s classes were typically over by three, same as hers, but every so often, she found herself waiting for hours—unanswered texts followed by a flurry of apologetic kisses when he finally climbed into the cab. She’s certain his new classmates just like to make her suffer by proxy.

Today, fortunately, she waits only about twenty minutes before she sees him jogging across the lot. She slides over the bench seat as he approaches the driver’s side. Tossing his duffle bag into the back seat, he slams the door behind him, pulling her favorite red and black checkered sherpa tighter around him.

“Cold?” she questions with a raise of her brow. His hand is on her neck, icy cold digits curling into the baby hairs at the nape, and she shrieks, trying to push him off of her but he pulls her closer instead.

“I know just the way to warm up,” and his lips are on hers. She could agree that, like this, time is most certainly a paradox. She could happily stay in this moment forever, to live in this feeling again and again and again for all of eternity: Jughead’s hands roaming her body, his tongue coaxing breathy moans that stoke a fire she cannot wait to be engulfed in.

Jughead pulls away, Betty chasing his lips as he smiles, and presses his lips to her nose. “Definitely warm now. You ready to get the hell out of dodge?” The hand that held her neck now cups her cheek as she nods, his thumb rubbing across the apple before he grabs his seatbelt. Betty does the same and settles into the passenger seat as they make their way away from Stonewall.

“Do I get to know our final destination yet?” His hand crosses the seat and lifts hers enough to lace their fingers together, bringing their joined hands to his lips to kiss her knuckles while he shakes his head no.

She scoffs, in mostly mock irritation, but doesn’t pull her hand away. Instead, still gripping one another tightly, their hands fall between them, reinforcing the physical tether which seems to be missing as of late. It’s hard to be this young and this in love under the most normal of circumstances, what with the raging hormonal impulses of teendom and the ever-pressing nature of change they’re not physiologically adept at handling yet, but against the backdrop of separate schools and merely existing in Riverdale, it seems more fraught than it should.

Behind them, the sun is starting to set. A flood of orange and pink fills the car; it wraps and settles around them, Jughead’s warm skin glowing in the dusk. He’s telling her about essays, the calculus exam, and how much harder it all is, but that it’s equally rewarding. He’s smiling, the easy, real smile she can never get enough of, and she feels instant guilt for every second she’s been angry at his being gone.

More than anyone she knows, he deserves this. She knows that, which is why she’d been insistent and honest about his need to go. She could never have begrudged him this opportunity—even if it hurts like hell when he’s gone.

It’s in these moments of serene calm and quiet, which come so few and far between, when Betty can feel the steady beat of Jughead’s pulse against her own, that she knows—not that she doesn’t always know, but sometimes that deep dark, insecure piece of her psyche is disquieted and she can’t help but wonder if he thinks she’s worth it.

One particularly hard week when the stresses of trying to parent her mother and her friends and live up to the insanely high expectations everyone seems to have of her, she asked him as much. Did being with her make his life any easier, any better? She’d felt like a lead balloon, sinking and pulling everyone down with her, and she refused to let him become another Cooper Casualty. He held her while she cried, while she insisted that he pack up the rest of her room and send her on her way, because this couldn’t be good for him. He simply wiped the tears from her cheeks, carried her to their bed, and recounted all the ways she was, indeed, perfect for him.

She smiles at the memory and feels his hand squeeze hers tighter before his fingers slip from her grasp, and she watches as they flex around the steering wheel as he merges onto I-87.

“Are we going to New York?” Betty asks, sitting up a little straighter as she looks toward the distant skyline.

He shakes his head. “We are not. Now, no more guessing. Just enjoy the ride. For once.” She laughs but lets herself get lost in his carefully cultivated playlist. The yellow lines blur on the pavement, rushing them toward somewhere, and something, new.

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

There’s still a good twenty miles before they actually arrive, but she now knows their intended location.

Philadelphia.

Betty can vaguely remember a conversation they had when they were maybe twelve, after they’d been learning about the Revolutionary War, about wanting to see the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall, but nothing more than that.

“Listen, I know. I hadn’t really been sold on it either, but I don’t think you’ll hate anything on the agenda.”

This catches her attention. She leans as far forward as the seatbelt allows while keeping her eyes fixed on him. “Agenda?”

Now, she would never say that her boyfriend wasn’t a planner; he was an idea man who knew what he wanted. Sometimes, though, he was more an adept juggler who was able to think critically and course correct when something went awry. (Well, mostly.)

“Yes, agenda: schedule, to-do list, docket. Things we are going to do and see in Philly.”

“I know what you meant, thank you. I’m just confused. Why wouldn’t you tell me where we’re going? I could have helped you!”

His brows knit as he carefully merges into the growing traffic on I-95. “Did you really think I would go through all the trouble of keeping this a surprise if I didn’t have a few tricks up my sleeve?”

“Why here? Why Philly?”

“Why not Philly?” He was starting to sound defensive, and that wasn’t Betty’s intention. It was only genuine curiosity.

“I’m not mad, Juggie. I’m excited, truly. It just seems like a lot to undertake when you’ve been so stressed about school, and I know I haven’t been as helpful—”

“Don’t. This is about both of us getting a much-deserved break. I didn’t say I didn’t have any help. You’re right, I couldn’t have done all of this alone. But I just wanted to do something for you.”

“Jug,” she reaches across the space between them and rubs his shoulder. “You always ‘do’ for me. I don’t need vacations, or gifts, or anything but you .”

“I know,” his eyes flick from the road for a second to catch hers. “I know, but I need it to be just us, even for a little while. I know it sounds silly and selfish, but Betty, I just want you to myself. For once. Just you and me”

“Okay, but for the record, I’m not going anywhere. No matter how weird things get back home, whatever psycho-killer comes to Riverdale next, or how hard it is being apart. Being with you…” her voice fails, or the words she’s trying to get out do. His hand finds hers in the ever-growing city light, thumb brushing the knuckles of her left hand as she tries to find the words.

They’ve talked about it—the future—in abstracts mostly, but she can’t help but feel absolutes when he says things like “long haul” and “you’re the one I choose.” And under the towering buildings and twinkling lights, that future doesn’t seem like a pipe dream.

Jughead’s hand slides off hers and back to the wheel as he tries to navigate the strange city. Betty smiles, confident he knows what she’d been trying to convey, and takes a moment to really survey her surroundings.

The farther they drive into Philadelphia, the more she sees what she’s heard about the city. It certainly has the modern, monolithic skyscrapers she associates with cities of this size, but there’s something about just how many old buildings fill the spaces between them that makes it feel almost quaint. These little pockets of the past, preserved in a concrete wasteland, she can’t wait to see in the daylight. Especially as they move toward Center City, where the vestiges of colonial Philadelphia are sandwiched between the harsh neon lights of the WaWas and Wegmans.

The streets narrow, some are actual cobblestone, as they pass through the heart of Philly. It’s not long before they pull under a large red gate, Jughead maneuvering the old station wagon into the spot marked “42C.”

They spend their first night exploring South Street, eating their way up and down the eclectic stretch of history and hysteria. Jughead fills her in on the plans for the next day, and in their first night of true privacy in far too long, they do some personal exploration of their own.

It’s brisk. Nearly colder than brisk. Snow falls lightly around them, softly twinkling as it catches in the golden light of Love Park. Jughead wraps an arm tightly around Betty as they make their way through the immense Christmas Village that dominates the large swath of Center City. It’s slightly overwhelming—the sheer amount of people, things to look at, things to eat— but watching Betty’s eyes shine under the twinkle lights is worth every, single, second.

“So, tomorrow we’re going to see Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell, right?” she asks through the dark veil of her lashes, snow starting to dampen them, all rosy-cheeked from the cold.

He nods, glad he’s wearing the heaviest of his sherpa jackets and disregarded the advice of his roommate who said it was too casual for slacks. Betty isn’t in a skirt. She’s bundled in layers of wool, nestled under the crux of his arm, but it’ll catch them soon enough. Jughead hopes they’ll be home before then.

Home.

The word looms heavy in front of them though they dare not confront it. Tomorrow, they’ll be back in their respective beds, only miles apart in reality but what feels more like worlds apart. He tries to push it from his mind, to be in the moment with the woman who followed him without hesitation, even if it meant being surprised, but the idea of returning to a cold, empty bed in a cold, empty hall persists.

He thinks she is, surprised that is, about coming to Philly. It surprised him too: a place to stay free of charge so long as he made an appointment to visit two colleges while he was there. Luckily for him, Betty Cooper is excited when he sheepishly tells her they have to go to Temple and Penn in between touring Boathouse Row and The Franklin Institute. Stonewall has these satellite studios in Boston and New York too. He wonders where else he can take her; what else can he experience by her side?

It used to be in these moments when he’d panic. The idea of anything actually lasting in his life still causes palpitations from time to time, but the anxiety is never about whether she’s by his side or not. She is. In every nightmare scenario, she’s with him, save for the ones where they’re actually being forced apart, but there is no place and time it’s not the two of them against the world. It’s this epiphany that brings him to today. He smiles to himself as he pulls her closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as she gushes about their visit to the Mütter Museum and Philadelphia Museum of Art earlier in the day.

“We’re also going to eat our way through Reading Terminal Market,” he waggles his brows emphatically, and the laughter bubbles out, shaking him along with her. Jughead Jones might be the only person in the world who gets to experience this Betty. The real Betty. The one who laughs at his corny jokes, who ensures he knows he’s worthwhile and worthy of love, who solves mysteries at the expense of her family and her sanity, and who only knows sacrifice yet sees so little reward. It wouldn’t be like her to ask for one, or for the break they both so desperately needed, but he couldn’t bear to hear her voice breaking on one more phone call. Not when, at least on his front, she has nothing to worry about.

“Jug,” her voice is like warm honey as she pulls a gloved hand from her pocket and entwines her fingers with his as it hangs over her shoulder. “Think maybe we can get some food right now? I don’t want to leave again tonight after we get back.”

“Oh no?”

“Nope,” she says popping the “p” and turning her face toward his. “I just noticed there was a fireplace in the living room, and the last time we tried anything involving a fireplace, we ended up having a movie night with our entire extended family.”

He remembers that particular night. He does not plan on repeating it. Her lashes flutter against his neck as the heat of her breath sends a shiver down his spine. “Right, food. Let’s do that.”

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

The snow’s been picking up. What started as a soft, gauzy curtain now fully blankets the city in a sparkling white chrysalis. They’re on the couch, wrapped up in blankets and each other, watching as the snow falls onto the courtyard outside their window. The frost gives the glass an almost frame, their bodies reflected in the twinkling firelight perfectly centered in the pane.

He and Betty have shared many moments since that day in her bedroom, most good and some not-so-good, but every second has made them what they are today. He’s the first to admit that, in the beginning, he was certain things would end between them before either got too invested. (Well, before she got too invested. He was one-hundred percent all in from the get-go.)

Being away has made him realize a few things. First, while money can buy a lot of things, it has no bearing on taste. Case in point, the cafeteria at Stonewall Prep. Gourmet it may be, but it doesn’t hold a candle to Pop’s. And second, as dysfunctional as his family unit is, and it really, really is, he knows love. His father loves him and is actually getting better at showing it, and though the fear of him falling off the wagon never really goes away, it’s lessened to a manageable degree. Jellybean is home and doing mostly well—as well as any thirteen-year-old who’s seen and done the things she’s already been forced to do can be. Alice is Alice, but at least she’s around. Not that her doing so provides him, or Betty for that matter, any comfort, but it gives some semblance of normalcy they’ve all been desperate to recapture.

And Betty? He smiles against her lips, hands twisting in her golden hair as her eyes flutter open.

“What?” Her voice is breathy as his fingers slide from her mane of curls. Jughead scoots toward the arm of the chair, reaching for his discarded jacket, while she adjusts the blanket over her shoulder, an inquisitive quirk of her brow reiterates the question she just asked.

“Do you remember when I was being especially dramatic?”

“Oh, which time, Jug? There are literally so many possibilities.”

Lunging forward, he wraps his arms around her waist and hauls her into his lap. He doesn’t tickle her, just readjusts the blanket that slid in the move and drops his arms to settle right above her hips. Betty’s are wrapped around his neck, fingers twining the hairs at the nape of his neck between her slender fingers.

“You were being dramatic?” she questions. The fire glows behind her, amber and ember amidst the growing tundra outside.

He exhales one long, slow, steady breath. “When I asked you to marry me.”

Betty’s forehead creases as their eyes meet. A confused laugh escapes. “Jughead, what are you talking about? You’ve never…”

Words cease falling from her lips as he slides his decidedly not-empty hand along her side and holds the small box between them. Betty’s hands fall from around his neck and immediately find their way in front of her face.

“This is not some impromptu proposal. It’s not because we’re finally alone and in the heat of some moment I ask you to marry me. I’ve thought, been thinking, about this almost every day since I left Riverdale High. Not necessarily asking you, per se, but more like the realization that an entire lifetime of achievements and accomplishments means nothing if you’re not by my side.”

“Jug,” her voice is a lost whisper amongst the crackling logs and howling wind. He takes the ring from the box, a dainty opal in an antique setting, and gently pulls her left hand from her mouth.

“There is nothing I want more than a future with you. I told you once we were on borrowed time, and I have never been happier to be proven wrong in my life. I bought this ring three weeks ago and tried to convince myself I wasn’t going to do this until after graduation–that there was something fundamentally wrong with getting engaged in high school. And I get it; I do. We are completely surrounded by marriages marred by too much time and not enough knowledge. But I know the you inside of you, and I love her as much as she loves the deepest, darkest parts of me. Marry me, Betty Cooper. Today. Tomorrow. Some fixed point in the not-too-distant future. Don’t make me wait.”

He steadies the ring at the tip of her finger, holding his breath until he feels her hand sliding forward. The “yes” she all but breathes against his lips is swallowed by his kiss. She pulls away long before he’s ready to admire the stone against her skin. The smile on her face is worth every second of doubt. Turning, she shifts to be sat between his legs, leaning her head against his chest.

Her sigh is one of contentment as she holds her hand up in front of them. The ring looks more right on her finger than he ever dared to hope. He can feel the millions of things racing through her mind across the silence. Entwining her newly embellished hand with his, he pulls them to her chest and presses a kiss to the crown of her head. Tomorrow, before they’re forced back to their separate realities, they’ll discuss it, but tonight, tonight is for them and their love. Which they prove to one another over and over again.

#bughead fanfiction #bughead #songfic writing challenge 2019 #well aware it's 2020 #and still more to come #cat is a rock star

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