#my gay uncles bringing me so much joy once again

[fandomfairyuniverse]

I don’t think I realized just how much I missed the gaming channel until I started this new video and now I’m in shambles

[shyvioletcat]

Ohohohohohoh can I pleeeeeeease have #3 (will you make a gingerbread house with me?) and maybe #18 (merry christmas, motherfuckers!) for Rowaelin? I know from personal experience that might not be enough of a prompt so I'll sprinkle in #4 (excuse me-where is my christmas kiss?) in if possible. 😍

This seriously has not plot. I just poured a bunch of fluff in a bowl and tried to make a cake from it. Day 2 of my Rowaelin Holiday Celebration.

~~~~~

Holiday music played softly through the speakers in the car, Aelin humming along. Movement caught her eye and she saw Rowan tapping away on the steering wheel in time with the music, he looked at her and gave her a smile when he saw she had noticed. They were on their way to Elide and Lorcan’s place for their holiday get together with their friends. But what was probably the most exciting thing about Yulemas this year was their passenger in the back.

There was a soft thump, followed by a jingle, that was followed by a soft coo that had Rowan turning down the music a little more so he could hear it better. Elspeth had just figured out that she actually had limbs and moving them around erratically was her new favourite form of entertainment. Rowan looked into in the rear view mirror so he could see their two month old in the reflection of the mirror on the headrest of the backseat, and he smiled at what he saw.

“She’s so cute,” he said, utterly smitten.

“Well, I made her, so,” Aelin said by way of explanation. 

Rowan reached over and held Aelin’s hand. “That you did, and you did a very good job of it too.”

That made Aelin laugh, squeezing Rowan’s hand as they kept driving. It wasn’t too much longer before they arrived, parking on the street in front of the Lochan-Salvaterre home. As soon as they stopped Rowan was out of the car, Aelin left him to get their daughter out of the car while she gathered the bags at her feet. When she got out of the Rowan had the infant out of the car seat holding her so she faced outwards. Aelin pulled her little beanie over the wispy blonde hair while she was still in his arms.

Then Rowan took Aelin’s free hand in his and their little family made their way up to the front door. They didn’t even get a chance to open it themselves before it was swung wide open. 

“What in the name of Hellas have you done?” Lorcan’s voice boomed in the quiet night.

Aelin grinned, she knew exactly what he was talking about. All three of them were dressed in matching ugly christmas sweaters, knitted to almost gaudy perfection. She glanced at Rowan who was beaming, and then pulled at Elspeth’s sleeve so it covered her tiny fist. 

“Let us in already, it’s freezing out here,” Aelin scolded, Lorcan still standing in the doorway.

He immediately stepped aside, shaking his head. Once inside, before Rowan could even protest, Lorcan had lifted the baby out of Rowan’s grasp and was holding her up so that he could see the whole outfit. 

“She looks ridiculous and it’s just mean,” Lorcan muttered. “Come on, Elsie-baby. Let’s get you away from your cruel parents. I hope you vomit on this ugly excuse of a sweater.”

And just like that their child was whisked away into the party. Rowan was helping Aelin sort the bags out when another child approached them.

“Aunty Ae!,” Ruben said excitedly.

“Rue!” Aelin said back, hugging the boy back as he hugged her legs.

The four year old grinned up at her, his Ashryver eyes gleaming with excitement. “Will you make a gingerbread house with me?”

“Of course I will,” Aelin replied. “I’ll just put these things down and then I’ll be right with you.”

“You promise?” 

“I promise,” Aelin swore. She looked at Rowan who was looking a little torn. “Go follow her around, I know you want to.” Aelin gave him a nudge in the direction of Lorcan who was showing everyone the baby, no doubt saying slanderous things about the sweater. Elide brought their own son over, the nearly one year old was very excited to see the baby.

“I don’t know why he’s ragging on us,” Rowan said. “Korbin is literally dressed as a reindeer.”

Indeed he was. Dressed in a little fleece reindeer footed suit, a hood with antlers and everything, locks of his dark hair poking out. Rowan left her then, heading into the party. Aelin put the presents under the tree, dropped the food off in the kitchen where she stayed at the bench to help Ruben with his gingerbread house. She was cutting sour straps for shingles for the roof when Fenrys and Asterin arrived, the open plan of the living, dining and kitchen giving her a good view of the party. Aelin could tell he’d arrived already a little tipsy from the grin on his face. Fenrys stopped in the entryway to the living room, arms spread wide, ready to greet the rest of the guys who had set up on the couches. 

“Merry Yulemas motherfu—“

Asterin clamped her hand over his mouth. “Fen, the kids.”

“What? It’s not like it’s a lie,” he said, giving a sweeping gesture at Rowan, Aedion and Lorcan.

Aelin snorted, trying her hardest not to laugh.

“What are you laughing at, Aunty Ae?” Ruben enquired, making a jellybean path.

“Uncle Fenrys is very inappropriate,” Aelin answered.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that he gets into a lot of trouble all the time,” Aelin explained. 

“Santa won’t be bringing him presents then,” the boy said very seriously.

That made Aelin laugh again. “You’re right.”

Once the gingerbread house met Ruben’s approval they joined the rest of the party in the living room. Aelin tucked herself into the couch beside Rowan, her nephew clambering onto her lap. Her husband had managed to gain custody of their daughter again, grinning as he played with her. She was lying on his chest, her elbows propping her head up as Rowan kissed her chubby cheeks over and over, making her coo in delight, giving her father her most darling gummy smile. The main event in the room was Lorcan and Fenrys trying to get Korbin to walk between them, but Aelin could look away from Rowan and Elspeth. There was such joy on his face as he interacted with their daughter, pressing smacking kisses to her cheeks. They both laughed when he went to kiss her again, but she turned her head, catching his nose in her mouth. 

Rowan tipped his head back and laughed. “I love you so much, my little one.”

At that Elspeth laid her head on his chest, tired from holding herself up for so long, and spotted her fist and worked very hard to get it into her mouth. Aelin stretched the sleeve of her sweater over her hand and wiped the spit off Rowan’s nose.

“Hey,” Aelin said when her job was done. “Where’s *my* Yulemas kiss?”

Rowan gave her a lopsided smile as he lent in, Aelin meeting him halfway sharing a kiss in the chaos and fun of the night.

“Happy Yulemas, Fireheart.”

Aelin kissed him again. “Happy Yulemas Buzzard.”

~~~~~

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[cybernaght]

Guardian rewatch: episode 12

We start the episode in the Snake Tribe territory, which is supposedly still somewhere within the confines of the Dragon City. It is baffling that it took citizens of this place so long to figure out that there are mysterious beings and demi-humans living among them, it truly is.

While the scene is mostly centred around the conflict between Zhu Hong and her tribe, and the ominous warning of the war brewing, it also does a really lovely joy of showcasing, yet again, the fierce loyalty not only she, but Guo Changcheng have to the SID. This boy remains the most precious muffin of a human.

At the SID, Sang Zan is learning to write under a loving watchful eye Wang Zheng. The once fierce and ruthless warlord is now the softest archivist. On a separate note, I am not sure how good of an archivist he might be considering that he is evidently illiterate.

Anyway, it’s heart-warming to see those two happy together. I sure hope nothing terrible happens to them in the future.

Our actual power couple, on the other hand, have done a full reversal into the relationship they had in the beginning; only it’s somehow even worse now. Shen Wei, who properly messed his cover up during the last adventure, has his guard up as he is being questioned in relation to a case. Zhao Yunlan, who grew to see this man as a friend and partner, is no longer amused by secrets, nor intrigued by them. He is now furious at their existence, upset at what he must perceive as lack of trust on Shen Wei’s part.

Shen Wei serves Zhao Yunlan a cup of tea with a side order of avoidance, hoping that by ignoring the subject of himself it will go away.

When in the previous scenes together they were always across the desk from each other, or next to each other, leaning in closely, body language open, there is now a rift between them. It’s awkward; neither of the men want to be here, but their needs are the opposite to each other, and neither of them are willing to back down.

Shen Wei goes on explaining in great detail his connection to the case and to the victim, despite Zhao Yunlan’s attempt to change the subject with a very unsubtle, “your body surely recovered fast”. The latter then proceeds to stubbornly talk about Shen Wei’s archaic ways, which earns him an incredulous “Are you even listening to me?” from the professor. The incredulity is wonderfully misjudged, considering the circumstances.

“I only want to hear you tell the truth”

We rarely see Zhao Yunlan open and vulnerable. I can’t off the top of my head remember him ever being open and vulnerable with anyone who is not Shen Wei. Zhao Yunlan operates on false bravado, aggressive charm, weaponised smiles. But with this man, he purposefully lowers his guard. I trust you, he seems to say, and I always have. Why can you not trust me?

Shen Wei gulps.

He then continues talking about the case, which is the last straw for Zhao Yunlan, who explodes, smacking his palm hard on the desk.

Shen Wei startles, looking hurt. I just… don’t understand what he was expecting. Once again, this is a man who, from Shen Wei’s perspective, has unmasked him on the first day they met. This is a man who has been poking and prodding him for weeks. And I get that it is hurtful when someone you care about does not respect your boundaries, I do, but truly honestly hoping that the same someone will just accept the relationship terms that have never even been discussed is a little bit unrealistic, especially when Shen Wei is not divulging anything.

Shen Wei is bad at communicating. Which is, I suppose, not news to anyone.

“It seems that Chief Zhao still hasn’t given up on suspecting me.”

“Not suspicion, but lack of understanding.”

Zhao Yunlan is trying very hard. He is trying to close the rift between them: by pulling the chair over next to Shen Wei’s and settling down on it, by reminding Shen Wei how much they have been through together, by telling the man that he is being perplexing. Shen Wei, on the other hand, has raised his barriers all the way back up, smoothly explaining that he is just a normal man who ends up being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He has got a polite smile playing on his lips, his mask fully in place.

Zhao Yunlan does not even pretend to have believed Shen Wei, he gives up on the conversation with a dejected “Fine, forget it.”

He makes his excuses and pulls his phone out to make a call to Wang Zheng to check up on the rest of the team. Just as that happens, the SID gets attacked by the magical sound waves, and Zhao Yunlan sprints into action.

Shen Wei calls after him, and then asks to come with. Considering they have just spent some very awkward time together, more or less fighting about Shen Wei lying an awful lot, Zhao Yunlan would be well within his moral rights to reject help. He doesn’t, however. Even now, the trust he has in Shen Wei  - in his good intentions, in his friendship - is unwavering.

At the SID offices, Tan Xiao is using his sound device to get past the two ghosts energy beings, and break through the safety measures protecting the Hallows. In other news, apart from being susceptible from curses or poisons slipped through the letter box, the SID HQ also does not have anything that might stop a human from breaking into it. How those people survived for this long is a mystery.

A point of complete diversion from me: I am currency watching a contemporary drama entitled To Dear Myself. It’s about young professionals in Shanghai who get their lives broken in about ten different ways; Zhu Yilong’s the leading man; there will definitely be a lengthy think-piece on it here. But the reason I’m bringing that up here is that it also has Chen Weidong, the actor who plays Tan Xiao, as a contextually neurodivergent rich boyfriend of one of the protagonists.

It’s kind of surreal seeing him here; there’s only been about two years between the filming of those two shows, but he looks so different. Oh, and, he is very  good as well.

Back in the world of Guardian, we see Sang Zan shaking off the sound attack and attempting to stop Tan Xiao. He does not succeed as such, but manages to pull a string which activates the Indiana Jones-style set-up with loaded crossbows. It’s very silly; I kind of love it.

While evading the arrows, Sang Zan flings the Awl up in the air, Zhao Yunlan catches it. How close is the University to SID? He took about five minutes to get here! The chief gets a barrage of premonitions which include Zhu Hong knocked out in the future, as well as in the present, and a little sneak-peak into the Disaster Wedding incident.

He then proceeds to pass out into Shen Wei’s slow motion embrace.

There is nothing wrong with this. This is beautiful.

Shen Wei checks on Yunlan briefly, but Tan Xiao goes on the offensive, which deserves him: a) a shot of dark energy right into his chest, which flings him across the space, b) the meanest of Hei Pao Shi’s death glares. This is the moment Tan Xiao earns an uncharacteristically rough treatment he’s going to get at the end of this episode.

She Wei carefully places unconscious Zhao Yunlan next to the wall, calling out his name. We can only presume that the lab has a second exit, as Tan Xiao manages to get away despite the two men currently being more or less in the doorway.

An indeterminate amount of time passes, and Zhao Yunlan wakes on the sofa, Da Qing in human form miaowing at him, his team and Shen Wei nearby. The team goes into a full debrief mode: Wang Zheng reports that she is generally able to repel sound waves, but was taken by surprise; Da Qing and Lin Jin speculate about the shield being affected by the waves as well, since an apparent Undergrounder managed to get through it.

Zhao Yunlan notes that the sound waves ability seems to be doubled, and used for both attack and suggestion. He notes that the powers can be numerous, while grinning conspiratorially at Shen Wei.

Shen Wei quietly despairs. He probably genuinely thought that this conversation was truly over. He takes a few seconds to come to terms with Zhao Yunlan actually teasing him about him maybe being an Undergrounder, before composing himself and stating that compound abilities don’t actually exist.

Da Qing, who doesn’t necessarily pick up what this conversation really is about, but does note that *something* is up with those two, comes to his own conclusions, asking Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan to stop flirting.

Lin Jing comes up up with this.

“Comrades!”

Thank you, Viki subbers, for notifying the audience that the word “Comrade” is also a slang for “gay”.

Lin Jing springs to his feet, saying that he needs a sample test of a human consciousness - presumably to create that clever brain chip of him which would make one immune to the wound wave powers. Zhao Yunlan very theatrically feigns a big scary headache to see whether Shen Wei would volunteer to take the test in his stead to spare him the pain. It’s an underhand move, but it works nonetheless.  

We briefly return to the Snake Tribe, or, more specifically to Zhu Hong’s Fourth Uncle asking whether she is still mad at him, while she is forcibly restrained and bound to a pillar. What is it with this show and binding people to pillars? In reality, the one bound to a pillar is actually Guo Changcheng, which the Fourth Uncle doesn’t pick up on even through Xiao Guo is not actually wearing the clothes Zhu Hong arrived in. Zhu Hong springs the trap, plies her uncle with the same wine, and then goes to regroup with the others, leaving Xiao Guo behind for the time being, because, I guess, it makes more sense for Zhu Hong to be alone when she gets hypnotised later in the episode.

Honestly, it’s easier to not think about too much about this scene, so let’s return to the main characters.

Lin Jing is just finishing the experiment on Shen Wei, who is lying on the lab bed in his undershirt, seemingly asleep. I would assume that Shen Wei has gone into some kind of a meditative trance to try and affect the way his own brain works and emulate the human activity. He does not stir when Zhao Yunlan walks over, and call him.

“Shen Wei? Professor Shen?”

Having received no response, Zhao Yunlan leans in to…

... Count this man’s eye lashes? Admire the effects of his skincare routine?

Oh, no, sorry. Here’s the excuse.

Thank you, Guardian, for this moment.

As Shen Wei wakes up and rises, he lets Zhao Yunlan know in no uncertain terms that he did see through his ruse.

“You don’t have a headache anymore?”

This snaps Yunlan out of gazing at Shen Wei with barely contained lust to pretend that his head indeed still hurts. Considering that Shen Wei does not look concerned, and knowing that Zhao Yunlan’s health and well-being is his number one priority in life, we can conclude that he did know that a headache was just an excuse to get Shen Wei out of his shirt check Shen Wei’s brain activity. Our professor collects his things and leaves with a brief goodbye.

Lin Jing is staring at the readings, checking that the computer has worked properly. Noticing that something is wrong, Zhao Yunlan asks, “Did you see live pornography in his head or something?” Not that I blame his for his mind being the gutter, but also, wow Zhao Yunlan’s mind is in the gutter.

Lin Jing dismisses the idea of mind reading as a whole, and shares his findings that Shen Wei’s consciousness was unwavering, like a dead man’s. Unfortunately for Shen Wei, whatever it was that he did to appear human has not worked well at all.

Zhao Yunlan smirks.

Outside of the SID building, Shen Wei is still frozen in place, contemplating his future actions as he is thumping the Pendant of Pining.

“Should I tell him after all?”

Yes, Shen Wei, you should.

“If I tell him, will that put him in danger?”

I am afraid the the good ship Zhao Yunlan Being In Danger sailed the day Zhao Yunlan became Lord Guardian and Chief of the SID.

(Am I again getting unreasonably frustrated with a fictional character of a show that aired several years ago? You bet I am.)

What follows in the episode is a brief interlude of Zhu Jiu being horrible to Tan Xiao, and making inappropriate comments about him and Zheng Yi. We also learn some of Tan Xiao’s backstory, which expands on his character and explains that the reasons he felt so protective of the little girl was because she reminded him of a sister he once had.

Back to SID offices.

Zhao Yunlan is doodling Shen Wei and the Envoy as he tries to reconcile the two in his mind.

It does sound like he still has doubts that the two are the same person, despite the overwhelming pile of evidence that made him draw to this conclusion in the first place. If anything, it is quite surprising that it took him this long to figure out that the enigmatic mysterious handsome professor and the enigmatic mysterious handsome Envoy are the same person. It is also curious that he seems to think the Envoy is much taller.

Da Qing watches his friend’s mental agony in absolute bewilderment.

Very shortly, they will get a ping for the sound wave energy from somewhere close to Zhu Hong’s home and rush to the scene to find that Zhu Hong has, indeed, been put under mind control, as she attacks Chu Shuzhi.

Here’s another piece of fight choreography for me to tear into.

Okay, good things first. I really like that the actors are doing their own fighting. Jiang Mingyang is generally looking good in combat, and his reactions continue to be on point. Gao Yuer is very flexible, and her kicks are great.

The fight itself however, is another example of the time/money constraints.

The opening punch is… fine. They do lock arms for a split second, which indicates that Zhu Hong properly swung that in rather than stopping the energy, but they are also out of distance, so safety-wise that’s okay-ish, and at full speed it looks alright . But the way Lao Chu is sticking his thumb out and then wraps that around Zhu Hong’s wrist just gave a full body shudder. This is how one gets they thumb dislocated (which I have never done myself, but I hear is very painful) and/or gives their partner a nasty bruise. For anyone out there who needs to hear this, if you ever perform a fight, please tuck your thumbs in line with your fingers and avoid hurting yourself and others. Doing otherwise adds nothing apart from a small but completely avoidable risk of injury.

Then there is this kick-punch-kick combination.

The three moves in isolation are good, but they don’t flow together, at all. I think, and this is pure speculation, that the sweeping punch in the middle was actually meant to follow the previous two moves, then the kick would come next, leading into Chu Shuzhi restraining Zhu Hong. That first kick (which is the same as the third kick, shot from a different angle) just does not belong there as a follow-up to the two punches. I can speculate that it was cut there because it looked cool - which it does - but it also sacrifices any hope this fight had for coherent storytelling.

Then there is a capture and a swivel, very similar to the finishing move used in Zhu Jiu/Sang Zan fight in episode 11. Zhu Hong gets pressed against the tree, and the team shows up to sedate her and bring her back to the headquarters.

Tan Xiao and Zheng Yi watch this scene unfold at a distance, as Zhao Yunlan appears behind them. The SID chief calmly lets Tan Xiao know that he’s been abandoned by Zhu Jiu, and the other man offers no resistance to being captured.

The narrative brings us to the boxing ring, introducing us to it as Zhu Jiu’s energy farm, and then briefly cuts to SID, where Chu Shuzhi realises that they have not retrieved Guo Changcheng. The puppet master springs into action, leaving Lin Jing to wonder since when his friend is so protective of the rookie. If he paid attention, he would have noticed that Chu Shuzhi was protective of the rookie since day one.  

We then move to the interrogation of Tan Xiao, which is happening in the hospital set, with Zheng Yi tucked into the hospital bed, even through it was never established that she would need medical attention, and, considering that she would have no issues walking out of the hospital very shortly, she clearly does not. Here, we see some more flashbacks, detailing Tan Xiao and the girl’s backstory, the abuse she suffered, and the bond the two forged. The young man is admitting to all the crimes he had not committed to protect her, and Zhao Yunlan is honestly moved. He sounds almost regretful when he lets Tan Xiao know that he will still be persecuted for his crimes.

Right on cue, Hei Pao Shi portals in.

Zhao Yunlan greets him with a customary “long time no see”, but the most acknowledgement he receives from Shen Wei is a side-eye which does not even focus on his face.

In fact, the Envoy is doing as much as he can to avoid even turning to Zhao Yunlan. He simply announces his purpose to the room in general and teleports Tan Xiao away. It’s easy to see what he is doing. In Shen Wei’s mind, the less communication he has with Zhao Yunlan as Hei Pao Shi, the better are his chances to separate his two personalities in the eyes of the other man. That said, showing an abrupt and uncharacteristic change of behaviour is the opposite of suspicious.

Even Da Qing notices the change Hei Pao Shi.

“Lao Zhao, what did you do to upset him? You used to do small talk, not anymore?”

Zhao Yunlan smirks, replying that he knows the reason why. He then notices the little girl crying, and goes to comfort her the only way he knows how, with a lollipop. When that does not work, he gestures for Da Qing to leave with him, and returns with a familiar black cat and an adorable “ta-dah”. It’s so sweet it makes my teeth hurt.

As this is going on, Hei Pao Shi is being his glorious over the top avenging self. For one, he is actually floating above Tan Xiao, which I don’t think he ever seen him do before. He then proceeds to throttle the young man, lifting him in the air and throwing him back on the ground.

He does so in order to shake the sound wave equipment out of him, sure, but it is easy to assume that Tan Xiao also brought the Envoy’s wrath onto himself by his misguided attempt to hurt Zhao Yunlan earlier that day. It’s deliciously petty; we know that the best way to earn Shen Wei’s ire is by threatening his companion. And, to be fair, Shen Wei had a bad day: this is as good a way as any to get some of that ancient anger out of his system.

As Hei Pao Shi realises that the man he arrested is a simple human armed with some clever technology, and the real homicidal Undergrounder is the girl he is protecting, so does Zhao Yunlan. Even miles away, even when they are having arguments, their analytical brains still work in sync. And, as plot twists go, this one is neat, albeit not entirely unpredictable.

Unfortunately, realising that the girl is dangerous, brings along a realisation that Zhao Yunlan left his friend in her care. He rushes to the hospital to check on Da Qing, finding the ward empty. If this was Zhu Jiu’s plan all along, it’s a good one: having access to a brainwashed SID member would also spell easy access to the headquarters and the Hallows - which is exactly where Zheng Yi leads Da Qing, taking the Hallows and leaving the Yashou to go into a berserk mode as he imagines or remembers Zhao Yunlan/Kunlun saying “I will abandon you”

Next up, episode 13: The Disaster Wedding.

——

Notes.

Every time Shen Wei lies my brain supplies me with Why You Always Lying song. Every. Single. Time. Which means I sing it a lot around the flat, to my partner’s great chagrin.

Whoooo boy and I thought the Episode 10 recap was the crackiest one I’ve done.

[ltleflrt]

So, just like everyone else, I have Thoughts.

This is not the ending I wanted, but it was mostly the ending I expected.  Do I think the overarching themes were dropped and time was wasted?  Yes.  It’s not my story to tell though, and this is the ending they gave us, so I’m going to try and be positive about it.

It’s not terribly surprising to me that Dean dies on their first (as far as we know) hunt after they gain their freedom from Chuck’s story.  Hunting is very dangerous, and the Winchesters no longer have Plot Armor from Chuck who probably protected them from the “minor” things so that they could fall to his bigger ideas.  Dean should have died from heart failure in S1 because of an accidental injury received during a random hunt.  The last 15 years have been a gift of time for him, and I think he was aware of that at the end.

The only thing he was worried about was Sam.  Despite how many times they’ve been resurrected, there had to be a last time at some point, and they both knew it.  So he made sure they got to say a proper goodbye, something they both missed out on with so many people taken too early from their lives.  He made sure Sam knew that he was at peace with what was happening, and gave Sam the tools to make peace with it as well. 

I loved this scene.  I was sobbing uncontrollably, and will eventually need to muster up the courage to watch it again to catch all the nuance.  But I still loved it.  I would have preferred Dean to die peacefully at an old age, but he’d have to stop hunting, and I just can’t see him walking away from the life.  He’s too much of a Big Damn Hero.

Sam’s grief was cathartic to watch, because Me Too, Buddy.  Then we got to see him moving on, healing.  I think that hunt he got the call for on Dean’s Other Other Cell was probably his last one.  I think he loved hunting, but loved Dean more.  And just like Dean tried to do with the loss of Cas, Sam went on to live a good life in honor of Dean.  One last lesson learned from his big brother.

My eyes were so full of tears that I couldn’t see the family pictures very clearly, but that may have also been deliberate.  Dean Jr looked enough like Eileen that I’m going to hold it in my heart that she’s who Sam married and settled down with. 

Dean may have been the brother who dreamed of his childhood family life, but he also always loved hunting.  Sam was the brother who hunted because it was there, but always craved normalcy.  I’m so grateful that he finally got it.  And the Winchester Legacy lives on!  Is Dean Jr a Hunter?  A Man of Letters?  Some of both?  Doesn’t really matter.  He’s another Winchester left in the world, passing on everything Sam (and indirectly, Uncle Dean) gave him to newer generations. 

Remember that time Sam asked Dean if anyone would ever remember them?  What legacy were they leaving behind?  They carved their initials into the table to leave their mark, literally, but that was such a small thing.  Leaving behind a child who knows their stories is so much more epic, and fitting.

As for Castiel, I do need to be negative for this one thing, but I will jump right back on the positivity train once I get this out of my system.

I really wish that Misha had made it clearer that he wouldn’t be in ep20.  I was enjoying the episode, but as time went on and I realized opportunity after opportunity for him to show up was passing, over and over, until there were mere minutes left in the show, horror grew within me.  If I hadn’t been expecting to see or even just hear his voice one last time, I wouldn’t have been hurt at all. I don’t think I would have even have been disappointed that we didn’t get to see Dean’s reciprocation, because I know Dean loves Cas, and I had been resigned to very quiet romantic text all season long.  The ILU was unexpected, even though I’d seen spoilers that hinted very strongly it was going to be there.  I would have taken that as icing on the Destiel cake, so long as I knew what to expect of the end of the story.

Literally all they had to do to fix this for me?  On the very last shot, Dean and Sam are on the bridge looking out on Heaven.  Off screen there’s a wingflap sound effect that gets both their attention.  And their faces light up with joy.  The End.

C’mon Dabb&Co, do better.

Anyway, other than that, I do appreciate Castiel’s ability to find joy in his love for Dean.  The fact that it’s confirmed that at least recent seasons the romantic tropes were deliberate still brings me immeasurable joy.  Knowing that Jack rescued him from the Empty and they went on a mission to rebuild Heaven for Humanity and specifically Dean makes me tear up just thinking about it.

He had an absent Father, who at every turn disappointed him.  But he still believed in Heaven.  He still believed in the original mission of caring for Humanity.  And with Jack he gets to be the present father, and together they built something wonderful and awesome (in the traditional sense of the word, and Dean’s typical definition too lol).  I’m so happy for both Castiel and Jack that they get to be a family.

Anyway, those are most of my thoughts.  I will probably have more as I continue to process my feelings.  I still love this show, and welcome discussion about it as long as it doesn’t devolve into wank.  My heart hurts, and letting go of bitterness is the only way I’ll be able to heal. 

And reading all the Destiel Happy Ending codas.  Looking forward to reading all of those!  I’m actually working on one myself, for the first time ever.  I don’t usually read or write canonverse for SPN, but that was because canon was always changing so much as the show continued to air.  Now that canon is complete, I welcome all the fix-it fics and alternate endings and post season stuff XD

For the record, I still don’t see this as Bury Your Gays, since the characters still exist beyond death, and Castiel was rescued from the Empty.  Chuck’s books are closed, so we no longer have a window into their worlds, but we know without a shadow of a doubt that they have time for more stories to unfold in their futures.  All the time in the universe :)

[maddie-grove]

The Top Twenty Books I Read in 2020

My main takeaways:

I’m glad that I set certain reading goals this year (i.e., reading an even mix of different genres and writing about each book I read on this tumblr). I feel like it really expanded my horizons.

There are a lot of proper names on my Top 20 list this year, which possibly means something about identity? That, or I just tried to read more Victorian novels. 

Be horny, and be kind.

Now...

20. The White Mountains by John Christopher (1967)

In a world ruled by unseen creatures who roam the countryside in tall metal tripods, all humans are “capped” (surgically fitted with metal plates on their heads) at age fourteen. Thirteen-year-old Will Parker looks forward to becoming a man, but a conversation with a mysterious visitor to his village raises a few doubts. This early YA dystopia has gorgeous world-building (notably a trip to the ruins of Paris) and expert pacing. The choices Will has to make are also more surprising and complicated than I ever anticipated.

19. What Happened at Midnight by Courtney Milan (2013)

John Mason wants revenge on his fiancée Mary after she skips town following her father’s death...apparently with the funds that her father, John’s business partner, embezzled from their company. When he tracks her down, though, she’s working as a lady’s companion to the wife of a controlling gentleman who refuses to pay her wages, and John’s fury turns to sympathy and curiosity. This is a smart, well-plotted Victorian-set novella about a couple who builds a better relationship after a rocky start.

18. Johnny Tremain by Esther Forbes (1943)

It’s 1773, and fourteen-year-old Bostonian Johnny Tremain has it all: a promising apprenticeship to a silversmith, the run of his arguably senile master’s household, and...unresolved grief over his widowed mother’s death? When a workplace “accident” ruins his hand and career, though, he must “forge” a new identity. Despite its jingoism and surfeit of historical exposition, I fell in love with this weird early YA novel. It’s a fascinating, heartbreaking portrayal of disability and ableism, and, to be fair, Forbes was just jazzed about fighting the Nazis.

17. Something Happened to Ali Greenleaf by Hayley Krischer (2020)

After universally beloved jock Sean Nessel rapes starry-eyed junior Ali Greenleaf at a party, his queen-bee friend Blythe Jensen agrees to smooth things over by befriending his victim. Ali knows Blythe’s motives are weird and sketchy, but being friends with a popular, exciting girl is preferable to dealing with the fallout of the rape. This YA novel is a complex, astute exploration of trauma and moral responsibility.

16. The Color of Law by Richard Rothstein (2017)

Rothstein details how the federal U.S. government allowed, encouraged, and sometimes even forcibly brought about segregation of black and white Americans during the early and mid-twentieth century, with no regard for the unconstitutionality of its actions. He brings home the staggering harm to black Americans who were kept from living in decent housing, shut out of home ownership for generations, and denied the opportunity to accumulate wealth for generations. It’s an impactful read, and I was honestly shocked to learn Rothstein isn’t a lawyer, because the whole thing reads like an expansion of an excellent closing statement.

15. My Friend Dahmer by Derf Backderf (2012)

In this graphic memoir, Backderf looks back on his casual, fleeting friendship with future serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer, a high school classmate who amused Backderf and his geeky friends with bizarre, chaotic antics. Backderf brings their huge, impersonal high school to life, illustrating how the callousness and cruelty of such an environment allowed an isolated, troubled teen to morph into something much more disturbing without anyone really noticing. It’s a work of baffled, tentative empathy and regret that stayed with me long after I finished it.

14. Daniel Deronda by George Eliot (1876)

Gwendolyn Harleth, beautiful and ambitious but with no real outlet, finds herself compelled to marry a heartless gentleman with a shady past. Daniel Deronda, adopted son of her husband’s uncle, finds himself drawn into her orbit due to his helpful nature, but he’s also dealing with a lot of other stuff, like helping a Jewish opera singer and figuring out his parentage. I love George Eliot and, although this bifurcated novel isn’t her most accessible work, it’s highly rewarding. The psychological twists and turns of Gwendolyn’s story are a wonder to experience, and Daniel’s discovery of his past and a new community is moving.

13. The Plot Against America by Philip Roth (2004)

The Roths, an ordinary working-class Jewish family in 1940 Newark, find their quiet lives descending into fear, uncertainty, and strife after Charles Lindbergh, celebrity pilot and Nazi sympathizer, becomes president of the United States. This alternate history/faux-memoir perfectly captures the slow creep of fascism and the high-handed cruelty of state-sanctioned discrimination, as well as the weirdness of living a semi-normal life while all of that is going on. Also: fuck Herman and Alvin for messing up Bess’s coffee table! She is a queen, and she deserves to read Pearl S. Buck in a pleasant setting!

12. David Copperfield by Charles Dickens (1850)

Young David Copperfield has an idyllic life with his sweet widowed mom and devoted nursemaid Peggotty, until his cruel stepfather ruins everything. David eventually manages to find safe harbor with his eccentric aunt, but his troubles have only begun. Although the quality of the novel falls off a little once David becomes an adult, I don’t even care; the first half is one of the most beautiful, funny, brilliantly observed portrayals of the joys and sorrows of childhood that I’ve ever read.

11. The Rise and Fall of Adam and Eve by Stephen Greenblatt (2017)

Greenblatt examines the evolution and cultural significance of the story of Adam and Eve from the Bible to the modern day (but mostly it’s about Milton). I can’t speak to the scholarship of this book--I’m not an expert on the Bible or Milton or bonobos--but I do know that it’s a gorgeously written meditation on love, mortality, and free will. Greenblatt brought me a lot of joy as an unhappy teenager, and he came through for me again during the summer of 2020.

10. The Music of What Happens by Bill Konigsberg (2019)

Self-conscious seventeen-year-old Jordan is mortified when his widowed mother hires Max, an outgoing jock from his school, to help out with their struggling food truck. As they get to know each other, though, they realize that they have more in common than they thought, and they end up helping each other through a particularly challenging summer. This is an endearing, exceedingly well-balanced YA romance that tackles serious issues with a light touch and a naturalness that’s rare in the genre.

9. Red as Blood by Tanith Lee (1983)

In nine wonderfully lurid stories, Tanith Lee retells fairy tales with a dark, historically grounded, and lady-centered twist. Highlights include a medieval vampiric Snow White, a vengeful early modern Venetian Cinderella, and a Scandinavian werewolf Little Red Riding Hood. Fairy tale retellings are right up my alley, and Lee’s collection is impressively varied and creative.

8. A Room with a View by E.M. Forster (1908)

Unnerved by an impulsive make-out session with egalitarian George Emerson on a trip to Florence, young Edwardian woman Lucy Honeychurch goes way too far the other way and gets engaged to snobbish Cecil Vyse. How can she get out of this emotional and social pickle? This is an absolutely delightful romance that gave a timeless template for romantic comedies and dramas for 100-plus years.

7. My Ántonia by Willa Cather (1918)

Jim Burden, a New York City lawyer, tells the story of his friendship with slightly older Bohemian immigrant girl Ántonia when they were kids together on the late-nineteenth-century Nebraska prairie. It was a pretty pleasant time, give or take a few murders, suicides, and attempted rapes. This is one of the sweetest stories about unrequited love I’ve ever read, and it has some really enjoyable queer subtext.

6. Mister Death’s Blue-Eyed Girls by Mary Downing Hahn (2012)

In 1956 Maryland, gawky teen Nora’s peaceful existence is shattered by the unsolved murder of her friends Cheryl and Bobbi Jo right before summer vacation. Essentially left to deal with her trauma alone, she begins to question everything, from her faith in God to the killer’s real identity. Hahn delivers a beautiful coming-of-age story along with a thoughtful portrait of how a small community responds to tragedy.

5. The Lais of Marie de France by Marie de France, with translation and introduction/notes by Robert Herring and Joan Ferrante (original late 12th century, edition 1995) 

In twelve narrative poems, anonymous French-English noblewoman Marie de France spins fantastically weird tales of love, lust, and treachery. Highlights include self-driving ships, gay (?) werewolves, and more plot-significant birds than you can shake a stick at. Marie de France brings so much tenderness, delicacy, and startling humor to her stories, offering a wonderful window to the distant past.

4. Maus by Art Spiegelman (1980-1991)

In this hugely influential graphic novel/memoir, Art Spiegelman tells the story of how his Polish Jewish parents survived the Holocaust. He portrays all the characters as anthropomorphic animals; notably, the Jewish characters are mice and the Nazi Germans are cats. I read the first volume of Maus back in 2014 and, while I appreciated and enjoyed it, I didn’t get the full impact until I read both volumes together early in 2020. Spiegelman takes an intensely personal approach to his staggering subject matter, telling the story through the lens of his fraught relationship with his charismatic and affectionate, yet truly difficult father. 

3. At the Dark End of the Street by Danielle L. McGuire (2010)

McGuire looks at a seldom-explored aspect of racism in the Jim Crow South (the widespread rape and sexual harassment of black women by white men) and the essential role of anti-rape activism led by black women during the Civil Rights movement. This is a harrowing yet tastefully executed history, and it’s also a truly inspirational story of collective activism.

2. In for a Penny by Rose Lerner (2010)

Callow Lord Nevinstoke has to mature fast when his father dies, leaving him an estate hampered by debts and extremely legitimate grievances from angry tenant farmers. To obtain the necessary funds, he marries (usually!) sensible brewing heiress Penelope Brown, but they face problems that not even a sizable cash infusion can fix. This is a refreshingly political romance with a deliciously tense atmosphere and fascinating themes, as well as an almost painfully engaging central relationship.

1. Mansfield Park by Jane Austen (1814)

Fanny Price, the shy and sickly poor relation of the wealthy Bertram family, is subtly mistreated by most of her insecure and/or self-absorbed relatives, with the exception of her kind cousin Edmund. When the scandalous Crawford siblings visit the neighborhood, though, it shakes up her life for good and ill. I put off reading Mansfield Park for years--it’s practically the last bit of Austen writing that I consumed, including most of her juvenilia--and yet I think it’s my favorite. Fanny is an eminently lovable and interesting heroine, self-doubting and flawed yet possessed of a strong moral core, and the rest of the characters are equally realistic and compelling. Austen really made me think about the point of being a good person, both on a personal and a global scale.

[nextgensquad]

molly weasley having more grandchildren than anyone every thought possible, and not always through ordinary means, and loving every last one of them unconditionally no matter what.

it starts with teddy: she goes over to andromeda’s house to help with food and diaper-changing and entertaining him so andromeda can get a few hours of peace. harry and ginny, once they get their own place, have him over often enough that whenever molly comes by, he treats her just like he does his own grandmother—cheery, excited, always demanding her attention. when he gets older, he takes to popping by the burrow just to steal some of her cookies and kiss her on the cheek and ask her about her day.

(andromeda tells her once, over afternoon tea, that she doesn’t know if she would have survived it, without molly and her family to help. looking at teddy, raising teddy, with his mother’s heart-shaped face and his father’s guilt and andromeda’s own grey eyes—it’s a kind of pain molly knows well. knows it every time she looks at george.)

and then bill and fleur start having kids, and victoire is the brightest bundle of joy in the weasley family for years. born premature, born on the anniversary of the worst day of molly’s life, named for the victory-that-didn’t-feel-like-a-victory—

it’s not so easy, to love the children who remind you of the one you lost. but molly does, anyway. she holds victoire close and promises she won’t ever let her go, and she does the same with louis, and with dominique, knowing that even with every hand she adds on the clock it won’t bring back the one hand that’s stopped moving.

but you keep going, that’s how it is. you keep building and growing and teaching and learning. charlie comes to her when he’s twenty-eight and tells her, very quietly, “mum, i’m gay, and i want you to meet my boyfriend,” and he doesn’t seem like he knows what to expect until molly tackles him in a hug.

children are children, and all of them are different: this is something molly knows very well. so even though charlie never has kids, she cries up a storm at his wedding, and cries harder when he introduces her to the three baby dragons that have just hatched on the reserve and tells her that they’ve named one of them ‘molly’ after her.

“there’s nobody fiercer than you, mum,” he says, laughing as she clutches the red-scaled baby dragon in her hands. “these are your newest grandchildren.”

percy takes his idea and gives her name to his daughter, when she is born as one-of-a-set, her and her sister lucy, both of them tiny and red and screaming at the world. this is the hardest molly has ever cried at a grandchild’s birth, watching her namesake cradled in percy’s arms, watching lucy cry out for her sister, thinking of two different sets of twins with red hair and freckles and the uncanny ability to always know when their other half was missing.

little molly is seven and licking cookie dough out of a bowl in the burrow’s kitchen when she stops and looks very seriously at her grandmother and asks her, “grandmum, why did you have so many kids?”

molly looks at her tiny granddaughter, with her red hair in a long ponytail and her blue eyes (like percy, like arthur) so full of dreams and questions and puzzles, and smiles before she can help herself.

“well, i had two little brothers,” she explains, a serious answer for a serious little girl. “and i loved taking care of them so much that i wanted a lot of my own children so i could take care of them, too.”

“oh.” little molly nods, her ponytail bouncing. “i get it. i don’t want lots, though. i just want me and lucy and that’s it.”

molly laughs and wipes cookie dough from little molly’s face and sends her scurrying off to find her sister soon after, thinking about molly and lucy and fabian and gideon and george and fred who could never have kids, who would have loved them, too. she thinks maybe that’s why she got to live—so she could learn to love them that much more even with a broken heart.

george and angelina aren’t married when they announce that they’re expecting a kid, and they still aren’t married when fred comes out with his beautiful dark hair and brown eyes he got straight from his father (from molly), and they still aren’t married when roxanne comes along with her long curls and the same brown eyes and sense of humor stolen straight from her uncle, so at some point molly gives up nudging them towards marriage—fred and roxanne are so much more important than a ceremony and a pretty dress, anyway.

molly still cries the day angelina moves out, because maybe some part of her had thought that getting married and having kids would help to heal the brokenness in george’s gaze and the empty spaces in his heart where fred had lived, but he sits her down and tells her softly, “it’s okay, mum, it’s okay, we love each other so much, just not the same way we once did, and she’ll still be around, we love the kids, she loves you.”

he’s right about that, because when angelina falls in love again, after she goes to her father, she brings cho chang to the burrow, almost hesitantly as if worried that molly might reject her almost-daughter-in-law and her new relationship. but molly only draws them both into a hug so tight she never wants to let them go, not angelina with her fierceness and her laughter and her unwillingness to let anybody feel lost, not cho with her silver laugh and her warm hands and her reaching for someone to hold onto after her last marriage failed.

molly weasley doesn’t turn away broken kids. she tells angelina, “i always wanted daughters, and now i have more. i could never be unhappy about that.”

cho brings her daughter over, a girl named emika with quiet eyes and a rare smile used to a house without laughter or love, used to a father who didn’t stay, and not at all used to people who will stay for anyone, regardless of where they come from or who they are. molly bakes her a fresh batch of cookies and george shows her how his latest invention works and when the upstairs bathroom explodes and louis comes storming down with neon green hair and zebra stripes, emika finally starts laughing.

the thing about the burrow is that no matter who you are, you’ll find a corner of it to call your home. and even though they’ve expanded and built rooms and sheds and treehouses, arthur’s never fixed that rackety old door and molly doesn’t even ask him to, anymore. the burrow is for everyone, no matter how lost or lonely or searching.

it’s where ron comes to tell her that hermione’s pregnant, with his hands shaking around a cup of hot chocolate, his blue eyes terrified and desperate and so full of love that it’s impossible to remember a time when he wasn’t in love with hermione. molly and arthur sit with him and promise him that he’ll be a good father and she eases his worries away with a blanket to cover him and a kiss on his forehead to send him to sleep, just like she did all those years ago before the war stole him away.

“you’ll be the best father any kid could ask for,” arthur tells him, hand on his knee, just like when ron was little. “because you’re the best son any parent could ask for.”

and later, watching ron hold little baby rose in his arms for the first time, his eyes shining with wonder and awe, molly knows that they’re right. knows that they raised their kids to do the best they can, just the way they had from the moment the first war began. that this is what they were fighting for all alone—for their son to hold his newborn daughter in his arms for the first time and fall in love all over again.

rose is an easy baby, compared to the potters. molly can’t ever forget the time ginny showed up through the fireplace, james clinging to her leg and albus screaming in her arms, lily yet unborn and kicking in her stomach, and all but collapsed in her mother’s arms, begging to know how she did it, so many times, for so many years.

“a lot of patience,” molly says with a smile, prying james from his mother’s legs so al can have her full attention. “a lot of tears. and a lot of knowing that the best is yet to come.”

ginny sighs deeply, rocking al in her arms until he starts to calm down. “what if we fuck them all up, mum? what if i can’t handle it?”

“ginny,” says molly, “you survived voldemort. you can survive motherhood. and it’s not like you’re alone.”

to prove it, she calls arthur and he shows up with hermione and angelina and audrey and they take ginny away for a day of coffee and shopping and relaxation while she and arthur deal with their two precious dark-haired grandsons until both of them are calm and fed and sleepy on the couch by the time harry comes back to pick them up.

it never really gets easier, in molly’s experience—children are children and your children will always be your children, no matter how old they get. things turn out complicated in new and different ways than they did when it was her and arthur and two boys and percy on the way and a war burning up around them.

so when percy’s marriage fractures under the pressures of his first term as minister of magic, she shows up to his suddenly-empty house and fills in the spaces where audrey had lived with lights and laughter and fresh cooking. he never figures out how to thank her—but then, percy’s never been big on that sort of thing anyway, but she knows he appreciates it because his daughter comes home for christmas holidays and hugs molly tight and whispers, “thank you for looking out for him,” and, well, little molly’s always been the best parts of percy and audrey, anyway.

and when audrey brings home a new daughter from her new marriage and lucy shows up fuming on the burrow’s doorstep, her motorcycle parked haphazardly in the front yard, molly doesn’t tell her that she’ll learn to love her new sister, or that she shouldn’t be mad at her mother for leaving and starting a new family, or that she should be more patient with her father, because that’s not what lucy came to hear. so instead she makes lucy’s favorite spicy noodles and they sit in the living room and lucy vents about how annoying her new sister is until arthur comes home and laughs and they set up ginny’s old bedroom for lucy to sleep in.

all children are different, and this above all else is what molly knows better than anything. so when lucy takes the divorce and the remarriage and her new french step-sister and turns it all into reckless energy that she burns across the skies by stealing arthur’s old ford anglia, she tells percy not to punish her, not to tear her down when she just wants to fly. she lets lucy stay that summer at the burrow, where she never has to run into audrey and her new family if she doesn’t want to, even though her sister molly is taking the brunt of the drama and the tabloid gossip with as much grace as she can manage, and she doesn’t make lucy answer the door when audrey turns up at the burrow’s doorstep and asks to see her daughter.

“i know she doesn’t want to see me,” says audrey with a bone-deep sigh, too used to her daughter acting out and shutting people out and burning until everyone around her is on fire. “will you at least meet clea? i know she’s not really part of the family—”

molly knows lucy is listening from the stairs, but she says it anyway: “audrey, you will always be part of our family. and all your daughters are my granddaughters.”

audrey, who comes from a cold, glittering pureblood family that’s still never learned to treat its daughters as anything but coat hangers for pretty dresses and wedding rings, smiles the small, unsure smile of a woman still learning how love works, even after two marriages and three daughters.

molly doesn’t have to do much to persuade lucy, after that; the two of them go with audrey, lucy sullen and quiet, to meet her step-daughter clea in a coffee shop in diagon alley, and even though clea is french and snotty and tries her hardest to look down her nose at her new step-sister, she still laughs in surprise when lucy tells the story of how she stole her grandfather’s car and flew all the way to ireland before anyone caught up with her, and audrey doesn’t even say anything disapproving, so molly thinks it’s been a success.

clea shows up to the burrow for family get-togethers and potlucks more often than not; she and emika and teddy three different versions of outsiders. teddy barrels his way into the heart of the family, positive and delighted in his place in it; emika speaks quietly with fred, ever-unsure what to do with her step-siblings but slowly getting better at it; and clea picks up a conversation in french between victoire and fleur and carves out a place there even with lucy still avoiding her as much as possible.

of all three of her almost-grandchildren, she doesn’t expect teddy to be the one to disappear from their weekend brunches.

something happens—and she wishes she knew what it was, but it seems that nobody does, not even bill and fleur or harry and ginny—and in the middle of planning their wedding, teddy and victoire break up. it shouldn’t be the end of the world, even though molly had always thought they would end up together, even though they had been dating so long, and she knows that nobody would ever exile teddy just for a break-up, not even dominique or louis, but he seems to take the decision out of their hands when he stops showing up.

“she hasn’t told you why?” she asks fleur over their weekly tea together, watching her daughter-in-law’s face draw down as she thinks about the break-up that split their family. “you don’t think he was cheating, do you?”

fleur scoffs. “not teddy. ‘e would never—i asked victoire and she said eet wasn’t anything like that. she said eet wasn’t anything any of us could understand. i told her, we have all had relationships that did not work out but…”

“every child always thinks their pain is completely unique,” molly says with a sad smile. “maybe it is.”

“if she would tell me, we could help,” says fleur, frustrated. “she eez not seeing the bigger picture—the family—”

“do you remember,” says molly suddenly, “how i didn’t want you and bill to get married at all?”

fleur blinks at her. “of course.”

“maybe you wanting her and teddy to get married is… sort of the same thing.”

fleur sighs. “but he eez good for her—and good to her. we all know this. you can’t fall out of love in a month.”

“love mattered a great deal to us, when everything in our world was about war and death and hate,” molly says thoughtfully. “maybe it just looks different without all that above their heads.”

maybe, she thinks but doesn’t say, victoire still hasn’t found what she’s looking for, and maybe it’s harder to find it with the sun of a victorious world always beating down on your shoulders. maybe it’s hard to know what you want when your parents are legends, war heroes and curse-breakers and good and strong and kind. molly is so proud of the children she’s raised, of the people they’ve married, but she can’t imagine how it must feel on the other side of the family, growing up looking into the sun so long it blinds you.

she sends victoire a care package, and then sends teddy one, too. children are children, and they all need love and support, whether they’re willing to admit it or not.

things keep changing—they always do, whether you want them to or not, this she has learned—and even as she gets older and her grandchildren grow, she finds very little can prepare her for watching these children become who they are, shining in the sunrise of a world without the dark lord, but still with enough shadows of their own. she gives advice as she can, to the ones who bother to come to the burrow—little molly and lucy, now out of hogwarts, stop by the most often, and there’s albus, who comes by to talk to his grandfather about muggle electronics, and sometimes even lily, who will only allow her grandparents to see her without that burnished glory she projects like wildfire to everyone else.

it’s james who rarely visits. james, growing up as the eldest son of harry potter and ginny weasley, james with the endless gryffindor fire that burns everyone around him and then burns him out with it, james who spends most of his days out in a club or on the streets and rarely comes home even when the papers publish photographs of him with a black eye or swollen lip after every dangerous weekend. molly reads all the papers and keeps salves and ointments and practices all the healing charms she knows by heart, just in case he ends up on her doorstep the way he did when he was little and had skinned his knee in the backyard.

he does, though—just once the entire year he is twenty-one, and not with any injuries from once. his face is bleak, his gaze terrified, but he doesn’t smell of alcohol or drugs or anything.

“i’m sorry,” he says when she invites him in to sit on the couch, his hands shaking in his leather jacket. “i wanted to tell you before it got out—abby’s pregnant.”

for a second, molly has to think on who he’s talking about, so distracted by the miserable way her grandson looks, by the way he seems to be expecting her and arthur to start yelling at him. abigail longbottom is another one of the regular invitees to the weasley family gathering, her and her brother jake growing up enmeshed in their family, playing with the potters and their cousins until the skies grew dark in the days of their childhood. molly’s always liked her.

“you’re having a baby?” arthur asks, always clarifying before jumping to conclusions, even as his hand reaches over the couch to take hers and clutch it. they have wanted grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, just as much as anyone else, but james looks so young, so lonely, so wrecked sitting there on their couch, too young to have a child.

“i am. i mean, she is. she’s keeping it. i don’t know if… if she’ll let me be a part of this.” james swallows, his gaze faraway and aching. “but… i’m sure she’ll want you to be a part of it—the baby’s life. i just…”

he drops his head down into his hands and molly moves in a flash to take him into her arms and hold him as he cries. she hasn’t seen james cry in a long time, not since he was twelve and broke his arm in a family quidditch match, and suddenly, all these years later, he is twelve again, sniffling and clinging to her arms as if she can heal everything with a hug.

she wishes she could. arthur goes quietly into the kitchen to make james a cup of hot chocolate and pulls out all the candy that he would have loved when he was twelve, and then they all sit in the kitchen, eating chocolates, and james tells them all about how it happened, why it happened, and how much he desperately wants the kid even though he knows it’s not a good idea at all.

“i mean, shit—sorry—” he hiccups on his second mug of hot chocolate, still unused to swearing in front of his grandparents. “she’s nineteen and i feel terrible. and i’m barely older and it still feels like… i don’t know. it just sucks because if it was vic and teddy having a kid then everything would be fine, but it’s me.”

“james,” says arthur gently, “no matter what kind of a father you are, that child will never have anything less than complete and utter love in their life. that’s not something you need to worry about. it doesn’t matter that it’s you and abby instead of victoire and teddy.”

james doesn’t really look like he believes him, but he nods anyway. “you know, you guys are a lot nicer about this than mum and dad were.”

molly shares a smile with arthur. “well, we have some experience with having kids a little young that your parents don’t.”

james frowns at her. “really?”

“we were twenty-two when your uncle bill was born,” arthur agrees. “it was terrifying then, no matter how much we loved him, and i’m sure it would be terrifying now. you’re never really prepared for children, even when you think you are.”

“everyone feels like they’re the worst parent in the world,” molly says, “and truthfully, nobody can be the best. all that matters is trying.”

she sees it in james’ face the first time he holds his newborn daughter—the same look his father had, that arthur had, that they all have when they see their child for the first time—that he does finally believe them about being a parent. it’s always harder than it seems, harder than it looks, and harder than anybody would believe without becoming one themselves.

“but it’s worth it, right?” ginny had asked her, the first night she had found out she was pregnant with james, her voice very small and her arms cradling around her still-flat stomach, as if terrified something might burst out of there before she was ready.

molly had smiled and tucked her daughter’s hair behind her ear and said, “it’s always, always worth it.”

[nerdygaymormon]

Uncle David, Sundays are so hard since I figured out that I'm queer and accepted it just over a year ago. I thought it would get easier, but every time I hear someone preach, doesn't matter the topic, my heart just breaks and I get angry, so so angry, because of how hurtful those teachings and those words have been all my life. That church has done so much harm, and I didn't see it until a few years ago. Does the pain ever get better? Does it ever hurt less? It's like, Ultimate Betrayal...

I think it hurts so much because this organization which is supposed to be a reflection of God’s love for us and to help us to come closer to Christ turns out to be very flawed. 

The past few years I’ve seen some of the harm done by church teachings by the hundreds who’ve contacted me to talk about being suicidal or self harm. The fruits of the teachings are easy to see and they are not good. 

And it does feel like a big betrayal when we realize that what the Church says about LGBTQ people is not true, this is not how God thinks of queer people and those sermons don’t describe our experiences. Church is supposed to nurture us and build us up and help us do better, not tear us down and fill us with shame and fear for what our lives will be. And I think it’s important to name that, to witness that this church harms queer lives, call it out.

Does it get better? Yes, because you will recognize the false teachings and gain confidence that you are just as worthy & deserving of God’s love as anyone else, that being queer actually brings unique blessings & opportunities to your life.   

For me, there’s still a few times each year where church hurts. It could be they’re talking about LGBTQ people, or it could be they talk about the covenant path & forever families and I know they don’t include me in that. For example, on one Father’s Day a young dad said God gives His choice spirits to people He trusts. I know what he meant but my queer ears heard that God doesn’t trust me. God trusts some idiots who accidentally have children. And why? Because they’re straight? 

One of the hard things I had to do is learn to reject those messages and find what God really thinks about people like me. And yet, it’s hard to ignore those words at church and the shame or pity or condescension those messages contain. The logical thing is to remove ourselves from environments that won’t accept us and which say such negative things about us. 

Yet I’m still here, and sometimes I ask myself why. 

I nearly left when the Policy of Exclusion about gay couples and their children was released in 2015. I knew that wasn’t right and I was yelling at God and was told it’s fine to leave, but if I stay there’s a work for me to do. I agreed to do that work, and it’s been an amazing ride, but still sometimes it’s really hard. 

At some point I will again face the decision, do I stay or do I leave? 

The beauty is, once you are grown up and have control of your life, you get to make your own decisions. You and God get to work out your path together. God wants the best things for us and I hope you have some amazing experiences learning just how much God wants you to have joy.

[yahboobeh]

Metanoia Chapter 3

A collaboration with @weaponsmistress​

AO3 | FFN | Insta

"With all those secrets We swore we'd take 'em to the grave" - Dark Days Pup

Neji sank to the grass and leaned back against the giant magnolia tree that overlooked the courtyard. He allowed the slightest of sighs as his back pressed into the bark. Another month meant another meeting with Hiashi to go over the lives of the citizens that Neji visited. The process, while uncomplicated, was draining. Neji prided himself in appearing calm, stoic, and cold when the situation demanded it. This standoffish demeanor was necessary when meeting with Hiashi.

Neji often spent time in the courtyard after meetings with his uncle. The gardens were lush and beautifully laid out. There was a pond with a small waterfall someone had constructed by stacking rocks and slabs of slate. The trickle of water was pleasant, and Neji often used the sound to help him slip into meditation. 

It was easy to let the water wash away his thoughts, emotions, and earthly attachments. 

Lately, Neji was finding it harder to let go, especially on inspection day. Before his role as an inspector, Neji prided himself on how easily he could slip into nothingness, how close he was to attaining something more. He now wondered if those thoughts had been immature and egotistical. 

But concerns about his ego were not the catalyst; the inspections were. 

Stepping into the homes and lives of so many others rattled something inside of him. Hiashi had put Neji in his role to keep him distracted from seeking out the truth about his father’s death. 

It had done the opposite. 

Neji saw so many families, and each one was unique. Some were undoubtedly happy, while others were tense and uncomfortable. Neji saw love and resentment, loss giving way to new life, and every possible combination of people and emotions in between. He wondered what kind of family he and his father would have grown into. It wasn’t fair that Neji had been robbed of that feeling. 

Sometimes when Maito Gai asked him about his day over tea, Neji imagined Hizashi in his place. Gai was trying to reach him, to make him feel welcome and at home in their crumbling and dusty compound. Neji once was convinced that no one, especially not Maito Gai, would crack him open. But after six months, Neji was starting to doubt the strength of the wall he’d built. 

It seemed there was only one thing that Neji now knew to be true: he would find out what happened to his father.

—

Sometimes things fall into place in scattered and unexpected ways. This was true for Neji. He’d had no desire to escort his cousin into town, but Neji obeyed. 

It was an hour into their trip when the universe presented him with a boisterous villager who’s stock of spiky blonde hair shone like the sun. 

Neji knew Uzumaki Naruto. He lived with Hatake Kakashi, a man roughly the same age as Gai, who had taken Naruto in. The Hatake household was part of Neji’s inspection rotation. 

Naruto’s existence wasn’t remarkable to Neji and his plans, but his cousin’s reaction was. 

When Naruto’s voice rang out through the market, Hinata froze. Neji sensed the immediate shift in her demeanor. Hinata gasped and tensed up, her face turning the lightest shade of pink. 

“You like him.” 

Hinata snapped her head towards him, her eyes going wide at the accusation. 

“W-what?”

“Naruto. You clearly like him.” 

“I-I—“

“Imagine the shock on uncle’s face.”

“No! Please, Neji,” she grabbed his arm, “I beg you. Don’t say anything.” 

Neji pulled his arm from her and started walking away. Behind him, Hinata scrambled to catch up. 

“Please, Neji! He… he’ll be so mad.” 

“He would,” Neji agreed, “do you think he’d punish you for loving a commoner or Naruto for catching your eye?” 

He felt her grip on his sleeve again, and he knew he had Hinata exactly where he needed her. 

“Promise me you won’t tell!”

Neji looked over his shoulder at her. 

“Make it worth my while.” 

Hinata, to her credit, held his gaze, her determination just as strong as his own. She really did like him. 

“What do you want?” she asked softly, the undercurrent of defeat already creeping into her voice. 

“My father.” 

Hinata’s brows furrowed. 

“Y-your father?” 

“I want to know what happened to him.” 

“B-but I don’t—“

“Find out.”

Neji yanked his arm from her grasp again and continued back towards their compound. 

“I’ll give you time,” he said, “to do some digging.” 

Hinata said nothing; she didn’t need to. Her very being radiated an aura of defeat and acceptance. 

What information she might obtain about Hizashi, Neji hadn’t the slightest clue, but she was much less likely to be discovered. 

— 

Tenten laid down on the grass. She sighed with relief, her muscles already stiffening. 

“Let’s go again!”

Lee leaned over her, shielding the sun from her eyes.

“Give me a minute.” 

Tenten was sore, tired, and in desperate need of a bath. Her face was caked in sweat and dirt, and she could feel a bruise growing on her thigh from one of Lee’s well-timed kicks. But every time Tenten and Lee sparred, she felt stronger. Learning to fight might be unconventional, but the Maito household was a picture-perfect example of the concept of abnormal. Her skills made her feel safe. Tenten and Lee had grown up under the shadow of loss, scarcity, and foreign rule. Learning to defend herself gave Tenten a glimmer of independence, something she could cling to and never let go. The Hyuuga could take everything from her and her people, and she would still be able to land a punch square on her enemy’s jaw.

Lee would push Tenten past her limits, which she appreciated, but he often didn’t know when to stop. 

“Okay,” she said, sitting up, “one more spar.”

“Yes!” Lee jumped up with joy and grabbed Tenten’s wrist, pulling her up to her feet. 

They each took a moment to stretch out and slid into their starting stance when Gai’s excited cheer rang out across the courtyard.

Tenten straightened up and looked towards the main gate. Gai and Kakashi emerged; Gai’s arm tight around Kakashi’s shoulder.

“Tenten, are you ready?” Kakashi and Gai were friends. A visit typically meant nothing of consequence. 

Tenten thought back to her conversation with Naruto, watching Gai and Kakashi head towards the kitchen.

“Sorry, Lee, I’ve changed my mind.”

She hurried after the pair, careful to go unnoticed. Just outside the kitchen, Tenten pressed herself up against the wall and peered around the corner. They had left the door open a crack. It wasn’t enough to see, but Tenten could hear the soft clatter of a busy kitchen. Gai was undoubtedly preparing tea.

“Tenten what are you--” 

“Shhh!” Tenten clapped her hand over Lee’s mouth and tucked around the corner in case they’d been heard. 

They waited in silence, but no one had heard them. When the muffled cadence of conversation permeated the air Tenten let go of Lee and leaned back around the corner, straining her ears to hear. 

“--We need your help.”

“I have made my position clear many times before, Kakashi.”

“This time could be different.”

“I don’t see how.”

“What are they talking about?” Lee whispered.

Tenten waited, listening.

“You’ll be training them. We can--”

“Having a Hyuuga on our side didn’t--”

“Wait,” Lee said, “they’re talking about the failed rebellion, aren’t they?”

“I think so,” said Tenten. 

Lee piqued with interest now and scooted a little further around the corner to hear.

“--I can’t risk it, Kakashi. We’ve just found our standing. We lost so much last time. Lee is happy and thriving, and Tenten… she is still healing.”

“Think about it.”

“I have.”

“I see.”

There was a weighted pause before Kakashi spoke again.

“We’re meeting on the 14th. In the forest behind the Nara compound at midnight.”

“I shouldn’t hear this.”

“Think about it.”

Tenten pulled away, her head spinning. Naruto’s information had been accurate. A second rebellion was in the works.

-- 

Neji was antsy. It had been nearly a week since his trip to the market with Hinata. He had doubted her a dozen times over but exercised patience. Finally, in the morning, she found him in the courtyard, greeting him with a bow.

“Cousin,” she’d said, “I would like to visit the market. Will you join me?”

Neji had to stop himself from jumping up and dragging her into town right that moment. Instead, he’d nodded and calmly rose from his seat on the grass. 

They’d made their way down to the harbor, Hinata picking out and purchasing a few items. She took her time. Neji knew that it was so their outing would be seen and activities unquestioned, but part of him wondered if she enjoyed drawing out the wait. 

They walked until the merchant’s stalls and unloading ships thinned. The breeze kicked up, heavy with salt and the pungent, rotting stench of low tide. 

Hinata stilled and looked out at the ocean. 

“It is pretty here,” she said. 

Neji noticed her hand dart under the silk scarf she’d used to line her basket.

“Yes,” Neji agreed, “it is.”

“We should take walks by the sea more often.” Hinata pulled a small black book out from under the scarf. She pressed it to Neji.

He shivered, unsure if it was in anticipation or from the chill of the breeze. The book was thin, small, and fit in his pocket.

“Yes,” he agreed, making sure it was tucked away securely, “we should visit more often.”

There were more than one of these books, he surmised. 

“Perhaps,” Neji said, offering an olive branch, “we may even come across Uzumaki on one of our trips. I could introduce you.”

“Thank you, cousin.”

Neji swallowed and nodded. He should have returned her gratitude with his own, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Hinata had not brought this as an offering of kindness, but as a desperate act of cohesion. The method didn’t matter, though. All that Neji cared about were the contents of the book.

[knives-out20]

Magnetic Push - Erik Lehnsherr x Male!OC - Part 2

Fandom: X-Men: Days Of Future Past (2014)

Pairing: Karmel Rosenstein (OC) x Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: Swearing, SELF HARM, Gay, Spoilers for X-Men: Days Of Future Past, Magnetic Pull spoilers,

Notes: Welcome to Part 2! Do NOT keep reading if you have NOT finished Magnetic Pull! The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999) reference ahead. During their 10 years (or so) in the Pentagon cell, Karmel’s had the (possible mis)fortune of growing his hair out. This is what it looks like, for future reference:

Karmel rolled over on the mat he had to call a bed, laying on his side to face Erik- on his own mat- across the prison cell. "How long do you think we've fuckin' been here for?"

Erik was sat in some meditating position, and opened his eyes after Karmel spoke. "Who knows, honestly. They don't bother giving us the date, and there's no way to tell when the sun goes down or comes up. We could've been in here for days, by now. Months, even...Years."

Karmel closed his eyes, laying on his stomach now. "Probable-years in these tacky-ass uniforms in some underground cell that makes my goddamn eyes hurt" he groaned softly, sitting up. "At least they had the courtesy of putting us together, right? I'd rather a cell with you than a cell by myself, for this long. It'd be like growing up, alone, without my parents all over again" he explained, dragging out the 'all'.

"How so?"

"I'd be sad...'n' scared. Alone, obviously. With just my thoughts and my powers. All this at once has never landed me in the best head space in the past, Erik" Karmel grumbled. He hugged himself tightly. "That's kinda why I'm glad we're fucking around in here together."

Erik relaxed himself from his upright meditation position. He dropped his hands, and breathed a smile to life across his lips. "I'm flattered.” Erik responded, eyes lingering over the bandages wrapped around Karmel’s wrists and arms from under the sleeves of his top. 

He wasn’t blind to the fact that Karmel would be alone with his thoughts and powers (said powers being able to summon sharp thorns on vines) when Erik would be fast asleep. Erik assumes Karmel’s only thankful that Erik was able to be awake most of the time.

"Why are we even here, anyway? Just to fucking suffer?" Karmel asked. "We try to stop the assassination of the President, and this is the thanks we get?" He huffed, running his fingers through his long hair. His hair had grown over the years Erik and him were in prison for; it had gotten much longer, and Karmel couldn’t do anything about it, or with it.

At least Erik liked it.

"That's not how they see it, Karmel" Erik reminded.

“Yea, I know" Karmel nodded. "Think we'll get out one day?"

Erik pursed his lips in thought.

"There's so much I gotta do- you can't expect me to leave Grimm with my mansion for our entire lives."

"Grimm-?" Erik furrowed his eyebrows. "What is Grimm doing with your mansion?"

Karmel groaned, standing up and stretching. "Me and Grimm made a deal ages ago, to watch over each others' houses if one of us got taken away, or- or locked up. Here I am, locked up, so Grimm and his ghosts have been tending to my house for...well, however long we've been here- which I don't fucking know!" He yelled the last bit, eyes darting around the cell.

"There's no cameras in here, remember, Karmel?" Erik shook his head.

"Oh, I know. If there was, they'd have told us to stop doing what we were doing, like...I wanna say yesterday?" Karmel grinned, flipping his hair over his shoulder.

Erik rolled his eyes as he stood up. Being that there were no cameras, he remembers Karmel not getting bandages around those arms of his until some guard came to bring down their food. Erik remembers Karmel sobbing in his arms, Erik himself stuttering out “Karmel...Karmel, you’re- you’re crushing me” because nothing weighed down on Erik more than Karmel crying, and hurting himself.

Karmel's grin dropped. He walked over to Erik, and poked his cheek. "We'll get out one day, y'know that, right?" Karmel spoke. He placed one hand on Erik’s shoulder, the other on the back of his neck.

Erik complied by putting one hand on Karmel’s hip, the other on the small of his back. Smoothly, the two began to slow-dance around the room, no music needed.

"I don't know when, how, or by what, but...we'll get out" Karmel assured, cupping Erik's cheek.

Erik looked Karmel in the eyes, unresponsive as they swayed. He held Karmel closer. ”We’ve been quite productive in here, though, haven’t we? I was able to teach you how to dance like this even better than you could before. I also taught you German- say something in German, Karmel.”

Karmel’s eyes looked to the side in thought. ”Ich verehre dich” he said, roughly translating to ‘I worship you.’

Erik scoffed. ”Is that all you remember?” He looked at Karmel with such raw, unadulterated love that the energy in itself could smash the windows above their heads. In a way where if they were dancing around other people instead of by themselves right now, Erik’s eyes would see only Karmel. ”I don’t want worship. I want understanding” Erik reminded, knowing he got both for the price of one, all in Karmel.

Karmel smiled sheepishly, shrugging. ”Sorta” he nodded, leaning so far back that his hair almost touched the floor.

Erik put his fingers on Karmel’s neck, lightly dragging them down the middle of his body and stopping at Karmel’s waist before pulling his partner back up. He chuckled.

After a bit more dancing, Karmel pulled away and sat down- Erik followed along, sitting down on his mat. ”To be understood is possibly the greatest fucking form of intimacy, y’know? My dad used to tell me that- without the ‘fucking’, though.”

“’Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood’’“ Erik quoted.

Karmel raised his eyebrows. ”You fuck with Orwell?”

“Sometimes.”

Karmel licked his lips, instantly falling back to lie on the floor. He stared straight up, through the windows on the ceiling. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"That I can't get us out of here myself. My vines, they're- they're not strong enough, to break that fuckin' glass" Karmel pointed up at the glass he was talking about. "Something in that glass or around this room is weakening my powers, I swear."

"Karmel..." Erik started, his lover sparing him a glance. "It's not your fault that we're still in here" he said, lying down beside Karmel. "And we're gonna get out one day, I can believe that" Erik offered Karmel a comforting smile.

Karmel nodded, sitting up; Erik mirrored his actions. He tugged his collar. "Fuck knows how long we've been here for, and I'm still not used to not wearing my Dad's ties...or my Uncle's belt...your bracelet..." Karmel listed, fingers tracing down his neck, then patting his hip and finally grabbing his empty wrist. "I feel naked."

Erik snickered, turning away.

"Incredibly fucking seen" Karmel scoffed. ”And my hair’s long as hell, it’s ugly.”

Erik locked eyes with Karmel, a soft look dominating his face. He cupped Karmel's cheek, the blond desperately leaning into the touch. ”I think your hair looks quite beautiful.”

Karmel glanced down at Erik's lips. He remembers how, a long time ago, he would beat himself up for even looking at Erik himself. But that was when Karmel was in a darker place. He's still there, but Erik's a light in it, now. Before Karmel knew it, he was leaning in.

And Erik was, too.

Karmel pressed his forehead against Erik's, corner of his lip twitching up into a half-smile. Touching foreheads was a constant form of physical affection between the two, it had all started on the beach in Cuba in '62. His hand slid around Erik's neck, giving him a constant reminder that even with everything he had lost, he had Erik. 

Erik pulled him closer, knowing Karmel’s body like it was his own. One hand rubbing Karmel's thigh, he used his other hand on Karmel's shoulder to push him down. Successfully pinning Karmel to the floor, Erik loomed over him.

Once Karmel leaned his head back on the floor, Erik leaned up to straddle him. He looked up at Erik, in silent awe.

Erik chuckled. "What?" He used his pointer finger to brush strands of Karmel’s hair out from his face.

"You're always...so perfect, Erik" Karmel confessed. "I can't fuckin' get enough of you. I told you from around the moment I met you, there’s so much more to you, Erik. There’s good. Compared to the last time I told you this-” his mind flashed back to that time, just outside the X-Mansion, all those years ago.

Karmel hummed. ”A flower from my own vines, Erik. That’s super fucking personal” he said, reaching up to tuck it behind Erik’s ear.

Erik exhaled through his nose, glancing up at it. ”How do I look?”

”Breathtaking, man” Karmel giggled, definitely in love at this point. Not even that ‘in love’ love with Erik’s body; Karmel was in love with Erik as a person, the whole idea of him sparked joy. At first he thought it was merely physical. But the more time they spent around each other, the deeper it grew. Now Karmel just wishes he could act on his feelings.

Erik glanced down, stricken by a sense of shyness.

“See, Erik-” Karmel started, pointing at the bracelet. ”There’s so much more to you than you know, Erik. Not just pain and anger, like me. There’s good in you, Erik, I can feel it. I know it. I’ve fucking seen it, now.”

Erik looked up at him, surprised at what was said. Did Karmel really think that of him?

The two held eye contact again, standing in comfortable silence.

Karmel was the first to break his gaze, quick to sneak a glance at Erik's lips beforehand.

“-I’ve definitely felt it, now. I definitely know it, now. And I’ve definitely seen it, now” Karmel concluded.

“Well, that’s because time has passed. You’re way more to me than you were back then” Erik brought up. He slowly licked his lips in thought. ”Actually...” Erik shook is head. ”You were more than just a friend.”

Erik’s always had a clear idea of what the line between friendship, and something more than friendship (like romance) was, and Karmel did, too. But back then, with each other, it became blurred. They called each other their friends, Karmel stood hard on them being strictly platonic (due to now-obvious personal reasons), but with or without the crushing-on-each-other, it’s obvious something was there between them. A connection, a magnetic pull of some sort. Some could say that Erik and Karmel were each others’ twin flames, even.

But there was no denying that from the night Erik let Karmel convince him to stay, something’s been there that made them more than friends. 

Karmel looked up at him silently, knowing that ‘something’ has obviously grown since then. “We just couldn’t realize it yet” he breathed, eyebrows raised.

Erik climbed off of Karmel, sitting back down on his mat. He smiled, resting his head in his hand, which he then yawned into.

Karmel stood up. "What?" He shrugged, "is my love getting tiresome?" Karmel teased, winking playfully over at him. ”Can’t blame ya- I’m like...four days past my bedtime.”

Erik exhaled through his nose. "No, I'm just a bit tired. Which is surprising- we haven't exactly been doing much to wear us out" he explained, lying down.

"Except for-"

"Karmel," Erik smirked. "Please."

Karmel waved his hand, "you're no fun. Rest, then. I'll be here...as if there's anywhere else for me to go" he chuckled.

Erik nodded. He hummed in thought, using a finger to beckon Karmel closer.

Karmel tilted his head, "what?"

"Put your head on my lap."

Karmel giggled, doing as told.

Erik practically beamed, running his fingers into Karmel's hair. He draped his other hand across his stomach, lightly scratching Karmel's head.

[sportsfamilylair]

the parenting record by one robert rotten #1

sportsfamily fanfic demo Robbie Rotten’s diary of becoming a parent and a husband, the struggles that came with it and all the joy in the end. 

a not-ready concept I really wanted to share

First and foremost, for all intents and purposes, this is not a diary but only a personal data record to assist my future self who most likely will need all help he can get. As of today, past Robbie has committed the insanity of starting parenthood because he’s an ass with feelings. A softie. And despite his cynical insistence that this is just a disguised act of egocentrism, he does indeed care and have thought it through more times than he has anything else. To clarify every given point about when, how, and who, here’s some backstory.

How it Came to Be

As an underappreciated artisan, there is a lot I hold against society. As a gay man, too, but this is too deep. I have chosen the most secluded place to settle myself, my sensitive sleeping schedule would finally have an opportunity to work itself peacefully, and no need to play neighborly or fake happiness by morning. Doom’s day arrived in the form of a pink hurricane and a blue elf bringing suffering and unprecedented mess wherever they went. I was instantly filled with loathing, decided to fight the invaders and free my poor lazy town of their influence. Fast forward, there it was, me, finishing a tap shoe for the child I swore to destroy. 

In my defense it was work. Paid work. And I’m a proud artist. When she gave me the pair she had I was horrified. Apparently, she was gifted that piece of garbage -- by someone who really has no shame -- and they wanted me to fix that. Perform a miracle. 

It was not her right size. It was not her color. It was probably two left pairs. If she ever managed to dance on those things it was hell. 

For once I was doing something that was not born of the need to send Sportaflop away or scare away those little goblins. It was to someone else. Something wanted. The whole process felt different and special like it used to be. I got more creative and more sensitive, I paid attention to all I could grasp about my little client to add the necessary features to the shoes. I polished and measured ten times to be sure, it was my art. In the end, I found myself sewing with bright pink thread, playing this fantasy in my head that I was doing it for my own daughter. 

Despite the popular strategy about knowing your enemy, I had not spent much time getting to know Pinky and Elf Guy too much. My hours were being wasted by getting annoyed that they were real breathing people in this universe, so it completely went unnoticed that uncle Milford was not actually uncle at all. My, what a twist. Pinky was a foster kid. The garbage shoe made sense. As one does know rejected kids don’t ever get to have nice things. Evidently, I just had to make her another dance shoe. 

When I left my cave to once again get some measurements I was met by almost every single citizen complimenting my job and how it made the kid happy. She had spread the word faster than any marketing team could. Something I did was making someone happy. What a unique experience. I went to check from afar how well had the shoe fit and I saw all the kids surrounding their pink leader, stomping and digging their heels on the ground trying to mimic the steps she was showing them. It would be endearing if it wasn’t so noisy. 

After they left, I went there, “Has it adjusted comfortably yet?” I asked expecting a simple answer. She got up in a beat and hugged me with such energy, I was barely able to keep my balance. “Hands to ourselves, respectful one-meter distance”, I untangled those little arms from my waist and pushed the kid away, carefully, like the radioactive element she was.

“Oh, sure, sorry Robbie, I know that you don’t feel good with so much contact,” she said promptly giving me my space and sharing that much thoughtful observation. It caught me unguarded. “I just wanted to thank you”.

“I was under a moral obligation to do something about that garbage you brought me,” she laughed at my bashing of the shoes which was nice. Normally I’m the only one laughing at my own jokes. “But since we are at it, how about some ballet slippers? Are you able to climb on a pointé already?”. 

She looked surprised, “I-I… I would love to have one. I mean. I have slippers but… they are from different pairs. One has a hole in it. The other makes me itch”.

“I heard enough!”.

“But, Robbie-”.

I looked at her annoyed. 

“I’m not very good at pointé yet...”.

“Big deal,” I said as it obviously changed nothing for me and stood up, “I’ll need a couple more of measuring if you don’t mind”.

“What about the money? I don’t know if uncle Milford will-”.

“It’s a gift”.

There was an awkward silence, but I sighed. I knew what was coming. 

“Don’t ask me and do not look at me like that, I am doing this for me, not for you,” I cut it all short avoiding those shiny grateful little eyes staring at me like I was a goddamn Santa Claus. I was beginning to regret this whole idea. I got all I needed and sent the brat away, my child tolerance down to zero. Maybe, at that moment I was still doing it all for me. So much was about to change...

[sincerlypadfoot]

The Fifth Marauder (Chapter Eight)

Word Count-1.9K

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                                         Harry's First Birthday

It was a shining day on July 31st 1981, my curtains blocked most of the sun that came in which I was grateful about. One thing I was not grateful about this shining morning. 

“Good morning, get up get up!” Sirius Black shouted barging into my room. “I do not know what to get Harry, his birthday is today and I don’t know what to get him,” He cried out falling onto my bed.

“Sirius, just because i’m letting you stay with me, does not mean you can just barge into my room.” I groaned pulling the blanket up to my chest and rolling onto my side, shutting my eyes once more.

“How are you not panicking yet, you haven’t bought him anything yet either and your his godmother!” Sirius pulled onto the blanket causing me to get angry.

“Sirius Black,” I cried out sticking my arm out of my blanket and reaching for my wand. “Accio birthday gift,” I felt a box fall onto my stomach and Sirius gasping.

“What did you get him?” Sirius asked picking up the box, I quickly sat up and took the box from him.

“You’ll see when Harry opens it,” I paused placing the medium sized box beside me. “Sirius, think about it, what do you think Harry will like, and will use in the future,”

Sirius stayed silent for a moment, thinking to himself, his head was pointed down, and his skin was glowing from the light admitting behind the curtain, I looked on his back, admiring the tattoos he had gotten throughout the years.

“I’ve got it!” Sirius shouted standing up. “Thank you Ellie, thank you so much,” Sirius ran out of the room, slamming the door making me smile and lean back in  my bed, preparing myself for the rushed day it was going to be, I rolled my eyes at the nickname he had given me.

I pushed my blankets off of me, covering the shining blue wrapped box, thanks to magic. 

For almost four years, Sirius Black had been living in my tiny apartment, at his request, since he hadn’t want to bother the Potters after they got married and Remus was to far of a neat freak for Sirius so he had moved in here.

“Sirius!” I called out looking around my apartment, from my room Sirius room laid across, with a bathroom at the complete end of the hall, then a long hallway entering the living room, which was fairly large for the most part then the kitchen turning left.

“I’m leaving, I promise i’ll be back in the hour!” Sirius called out from his room, I rolled my eyes walking into the bathroom and shutting the door, my towel laid still, which wasn’t all a problem but since it wasn’t where I last put it, caused a problem.

“Quick using my towel Sirius!” I yelled as I turned the water on and started undressing myself. Locking the door with my wand, not wanting any unwanted visitors. The water quickly became hot and I jumped in, enjoying, again, the peace and quiet.

“Sirius is gone, please tell me what you got Harry!” Remus shouted walking into the bathroom. “Please,”

I stuck my head out of the curtain and looked at the boy who didn’t even live close to our house. “Remus get out of my house, I am not telling you and i’m naked!” 

“And i’m gay, come on tell me,” Remus sat down on our sink crossing his arms, I shook my head sticking my head back into the shower.

“What did you get Harry?” I asked washing my hair, slowly unbothered by Remus who hummed to himself.

“Whatever Sirius gets him, did you not hear us last night agreeing on what to get the boy,” Remus shouted, I rolled my eyes sticking my soapy head back out.

“No, but you guys should also learn to silence yourselves, some people like peace and quiet well sleeping,” Remus’ face went bright red as I finished my sentence.

“Yeah, if you could, keep it a secret, that would be greatly appreciated y/n,” I stuck my head, once again back in the shower and continued to wash my hair. “You think Sirius actually likes me, or you know, cause i’m so irresistible sexy,”

I snorted at the end of his sentence, getting soap in my eye in the process. “Yeah I think you might be right Remus, only liking you for your irresistible ness,” I joked rolling my eyes paused and shutting off the shower and grabbing my towel and wrapping it around myself. “No Remus,” I paused getting out of the shower covered. “He likes you, all he does is talk about you, don’t come barging into my room now,” I walked out of the bathroom and back into my room letting a breath out and shutting my door, locking it again.

“Oh come on, you can’t just tell me that and not give me any more information, what does he talk about, does he like my hair, does he think i’m weird!” Remus banged on my door, I rolled my eyes, dropping my towel and walking naked over towards my dresser.

“Move out of the way, i’ve got this!” Sirius yelled, I heard my locket click, I grabbed my wand, shutting my door.

“I am naked! I will be out in a second, go make out with each other and leave me alone or i’ll kick you out Sirius, personal space!” I screamed slamming my door shut with my hands now. “You both like each other, do something about it, or clean the house, anything!” 

“Sorry y/n,” The pair whispered walking away.

“Do you actually like me?” I heard Sirius say making me smile, I turned back around and took a pair of nice jeans out of my dresser and a long wool sweater, slipping them on quickly.

“Are you guys ready to go?” I yelled out grabbing my wand and present, then swung my door open, Sirius had Remus pinned against the wall, causing my hands to swing over my eyes.

“Yes, Sirius get off of him,” Remus mocked, removing his hands from Sirius chest and watching Remus use all his force to push Sirius off. “We decided on getting Harry a shared gift,” His smile lit the whole room for Sirius who stood holding a long shaped box in his hands.

“Come on Remus, y/n, we’ve got a birthday party to attend too,” Sirius smiled brightly, grabbing the floo powder from the fireplace. “Godric's hollow!” The green fire covered Sirius, leaving Remus and I.

“Race you!” I shouted chuckled, darting to the fireplace, Remus and I both managing the fit in.

“Godric's hollow!”  Remus shouted and the smoke took over the both of us, we ended up infront of Sirius who looked around the house

“They’re not home, we’re home alone,” Sirius chuckled helping the two of us out of the fireplace. “Must be out, what should we do,”

I smirked looking around the house, undecorated. “Why don’t we charm this place up, i’m sure there are a few things we can pull out our asses,” I chuckled walking into the living room.

“This is why your the smart one here,” Sirius hummed kissing the top of my head and pulling his wand out of his pocket.

I walked into the kitchen, grabbing a empty glass and pointing my wand down. “Aguamenti,” water appeared and I chuckled it down, ready to decorate.

“Herbivicus!” Sirius shouted causing both Remus and I to turn around with a smile, the plants that were nearly buds were now fully grown, Lilies and tulips hung on the window ledges.

After a hour of decorating the house, balloons hung up, a large one in the middle of the living room and two presents beside the one made the three smile.

“Harry we’re home,” Lily brightly said, but her voice stopped and little “o”s came out of her mouth.

“Surprise!” Sirius, remus and I all shouted jumping out of the living room with a smile, looking a baby Harry, James who had a giant smile from ear to ear and Lily who looked like she was going to cry.

“Let me see my godson, big boy Harry,” Sirius excitedly jumped, walking over to Harry and taking him out of Lilys arms, cooing in his face.

“You guys really surprised us,” James walked over to us, pulling Remus and I into a hug.

“We’re glad,” I whispered holding onto James. “What did you guys do today?” I asked as we all let go.

“Brought Harry for ice cream and picked him out some new clothes, isn’t that right James,” Lily pipped in, bringing me into a hug. “I’m glad you’ve done this love, it’s lovely,”

“Come on Harry, I wanna show you what Uncle Remus and I got you,” Sirius ran passed the four of us, causing Harry to burst into laughing, Lily looked worried but calm at Sirius

“Me first,” I smiled grabbing my light blue gift and sitting down beside Harry who crawled onto my lap. “Here you go little guy,” I pushed the box lightly to Harry, letting him unwrap it.

“Box!” Harry shouted, making everyone burst into a fit as he looked a plan white box, Harry was everyone's pride and joy, and the boy would have everyone killed for him to live.

“Open it buddy,” I whispered, helping him a bit more, his hand reached into a box, pulling out a snowglobes. A little boy, brown hair sat on the ground infront of a large snowman, alone.

“Oh y/n, it’s amazing,” James said a bit confused. “What is it?” He asked causing Lily to lightly shove his shoulder.

I grabbed my wand from beside him, looking at Harry with a smile then placing my wand on the top, I watched as five figures came out, Lily and James hand in hand, Sirius and Remus also hand in and then I who came out, snow fell down.

“It’s beautiful,” Lily whispered, Harry looked down, admiring and laughing as he watches all the figures inside do their own thing.

“I figured, if pictures could move, I could do it with anything, it’s simple to stop, and I thought he’d love it,” I leaned down, planting a kiss on Harry's head, he smiled looking down still.

“Us next,” Sirius jumped up, causing Harry to jump then look up at me, my lips curled, holding back my tears, knowing i’d do anything for that kid.

“This is from Uncle Sirius and I,” Remus moved beside Harry, wrapped his arms around the kid, I stopped the snowglobe, watches the figures freeze then placing it gently back in the box.

“Oh you did not,” Lily bursted out laughing as Sirius bent down, placing the long box on Harry's lap. 

“OH we totally did,” Sirius smirked, helping Harry unwrap the gift, a small, toddler sized broom was unwrapped.

“Bloody hell, my kids gonna be a star, we have to go try it out!” James jumped from the couch but Lily pulled him down.

“After darling,” Lily whispered, causing me to smile, I looked at her then down at the broom, Harry held it in his little wee hands as Sirius explained everything to him.

“We did good you know,” Remus whispered leaning his head on mine. “I love the snow globe, it’s perfect,”

I stayed silent for a moment, admiring Sirius, and everyone else in the room. “Yeah, we did really good,”

[thepropertylovers]

Feature Friday with Matthew Chaffee

Happy Friday, friends. Though the weeks are running together and what day it is means almost nothing anymore, we’re so happy it’s finally the weekend. The last few weeks have been some of the busiest for us (feeling grateful for that) and we’re looking forward to relaxing just a bit this weekend. Do you have any fun plans?

This week’s Feature Friday is Matthew, who shares what it was like growing up in a conservative environment, the response he got from his senior high school class when he came out in front of them by reading an essay (!), and his advice for those struggling to come out. We enjoyed getting to know Matthew and we think you will, too. See what we mean below…

What is your favorite place you’ve ever traveled to and why? Unfortunately, my answer to this question isn’t very exciting. Growing up, my family never had a lot of extra money to spend on traveling, so most of our vacations consisted of road trips around the Midwest. Don’t get me wrong, I got to see some fascinating places and make great memories with my family, but I haven’t been anywhere particularly exotic. I have been to New York City twice, both times for a music department tour in high school, and I’d have to say that it’s probably my favorite place I’ve traveled to. It was so much bigger and so much more cosmopolitan than anything I had ever seen or was used to, so it was quite overwhelming. The sheer vibrancy of it all – the lights, the smells, the languages – was intoxicating. Attending a performance of Phantom of the Opera on Broadway would probably have to go on my list of top ten life experiences thus far. It’s definitely not somewhere I could live for any length of time, but for somewhere to visit, it was phenomenal. 

Where did you grow up? What was your environment like? I’ve spent the entirety of my life living in West Michigan, which, as you may or may not know, is pretty traditional and conservative. More specifically, I’m from Grandville, which is a city of about 16,000 located in the Greater Grand Rapids area. Dutch heritage and Reformed (Protestant) Christian values play a big role in shaping the culture of the circles I grew up in. I attended a Christian Reformed Church, and I was educated in a private Christian school where my graduating class consisted of approximately seventy students. My family consists of myself, my mother, my father, and my brother, who is five years younger than me. I am very close with my parents, and I’d say my relationship with my brother is typical of siblings with our age gap. Family and faith have always been central parts of my life, and I don’t foresee that changing. 

How did your environment growing up shape who you are as a person? Growing up in a pretty conservative area definitely had an impact on my younger years. I remember in elementary school, like many children, I would parrot my parents’ political views when “discussing” politics with my peers. However, with the growing revelation about my sexuality that came with puberty, my views slowly began to change. Another catalyst for my shifting views occurred in middle school, when a good friend of mine was deported to Guatemala due to an error in her parents’ paperwork. The injustice of it all really impacted me and opened my eyes to a world that before had been largely hidden. High school gave me my first opportunity to connect with international students. As I have always been interested in learning about different cultures, I quickly befriended them and even helped start my high school’s International Club, which provided opportunities for American and international students to interact and attend various cultural events. Finally, my Aunt Dawn and Uncle Tim have played a major role in exposing me to issues concerning social justice. Although both of them grew up in West Michigan – just like my parents – their life circumstances have provided them with opportunities not experienced by most of my other family members. Because of this, they have always stood out to me as being somehow “different”, more engaged and more vibrant and passionate than most people I know. As I grew older and began paying more attention to the things my Aunt and Uncle would talk about, I began to realize the value behind the causes they were advocating. When taken together, my friends, my family, my sexuality, and my desire to continuously learn and expand my horizons have shaped me into who I am today. 

What’s one interesting fact about you? Besides English, I’m speak conversational Spanish and basic French and Korean. I also can play piano and trumpet, and I love to sing (though I don’t know if I’m any good or not, since I’m too shy to sing in front of anyone). 

What is one thing you love about yourself? Learning to love myself hasn’t been easy; it’s a process, and definitely something I’m still working on. But one thing I’ve always been proud of is my imagination. I’m a dreamer, and my mind is a wild place. I keep a running note on my phone of all the random, crazy things I think up so that maybe someday I can make them happen. 

What brings you the most joy in life? Oh boy. There are so many things I could talk about here. I love being outdoors. In particular, I love to bike. Bike trails are plentiful where I live, and Grand Rapids has begun to install bike lanes, so getting around and finding new places to ride is a cinch. My favorite ride is from Grand Rapids out to Lake Michigan, which I do a few times every summer with my best friend. Other outdoor activities I enjoy are hiking and hammocking. I firmly believe that everyone should own a good hammock. In addition to outdoor activities, I love to cook and bake. My specialties are ice cream and gourmet mac & cheese. Someday I hope to write a mac & cheese cookbook and title it “MAC: The Complete Guy to Everyone’s Childhood Favorite” (M-A-C are my initials). I also make a mean hummus. I love to learn. I’ve spent countless hours on Wikipedia reading about the most arbitrary topics. Whether it’s German political parties or the Japanese folklore, I’ve probably read about it. Nothing is off limits. As a result, my mind is a veritable treasure trove of random and mostly useless facts. Finally, I find joy in spending quality time with friends and family. Whether it’s playing ultimate frisbee, exploring a new city, dumpster diving at Krispy Kreme (a tradition at my college), or having late-night campfire talks, I’m down for just about anything as long as I’m with the right people. 

How old were you when you came out? What was your experience like? My coming out experience was a rather long process. Pretty much as soon as I began to have romantic feelings toward people, I realized that I had them for both guys and girls. This was around fourth or fifth grade, and I told myself that it was normal, that I wasn’t actually attracted to guys, but that I just knew that some guys were really good-looking. Once I reached middle school, I started to come to terms with the fact that maybe I was attracted to guys. But I continued to tell myself that I was more attracted to girls. I did the whole “percentage” thing, where I was like, “okay, I’m eighty percent straight, twenty percent gay.” I first came out as bisexual to my friend Carly. Freshman year of high school I told a few more friends that I was bi, and it went over pretty well. Sophomore year I briefly dated a girl, then junior year I began dating another girl. That lasted for about a year until we broke up early spring of my senior year. The breakup gave me a lot to think about, but even while dating her I realized that something never really felt right; I could never really imagine myself with her – or with any girl for that matter – for the long term. After much soul searching, I finally accepted that I was gay. One of the last big projects senior year was the “Where I Stand” paper. This was an essay written by every senior for English class, and it was basically an opportunity to say whatever you wanted and to be really open and vulnerable and reflect on your life leading up to that point. I decided to incorporate my coming out into my paper. It wasn’t the central focus, rather more of a side note. Thankfully, my English teacher, Mrs. Hoeve (now Dr. Hoeve) was extremely supportive throughout the process. On the day when everyone shared their papers, I concluded mine to thunderous applause, which was especially remarkable considering the fact that most of my classmates came from the same conservative, Reformed Christian background as I did. On the whole, I couldn’t have asked for a better coming-out experience at school. 

How did your friends and family take it? Did you face any backlash? How did/do you deal with that? I waited to come out to my parents until after my graduation and open house in order to not burden them with the news. Finally, after the celebrations had ended, I let them read my paper. The fifteen minutes or so that I waited in my room while they read it downstairs were the most agonizing of my life, because I knew how earth-shattering the revelation would be to them. When they finally came up to my room, their expressions were pretty much what I’d expected – reassuring, yet somehow disheartening at the same time. They assured me that they still loved me, that they were proud of me, and that they were glad I had told them. Since that time, we have only discussed my sexuality on a few occasions. When I first told them that I was dating a guy, it was almost like coming out all over again; I think that revelation finally made my sexuality real to them. In the intervening time, I have seen my mom making definite strides in becoming more open-minded not just toward me but in general, which is great. My dad, though he accepts and loves me, is very set in his ways – though, to be fair, I have had fewer conversations with him regarding my sexuality. My dad’s parents disowned me when I came out to them, though that hasn’t had much of an impact on me due to the fact that I was never very close to them. My mom’s parents, on the other hand, have always been incredible grandparents to me, so coming out to them, especially knowing their stance on other issues, was pretty nerve- wracking. Incredibly, the news didn’t seem to affect them at all, and their treatment of me since that time hasn’t differed in the least; they are still the loving, generous grandparents I’ve always known, and for that I’m extremely thankful. My friends have all been very accepting as well, though this was to be expected considering I have always associated with my more relaxed, open-minded peers. 

What did you learn about yourself in the coming out process? One of the most meaningful lessons I’ve learned about myself in the coming-out process is truly understanding what I value and stand for. I was raised as a Christian, and my faith is still very important to me. If anything, it’s actually become stronger as I’ve navigated the ups and downs of my journey with my sexuality. I’ve talked with numerous gay men who, at one point or another, renounced religion for various reasons, but often those reasons involved the church’s negative treatment or exclusion of LGBTQ+ individuals. To me, this is heartbreaking. As someone who identifies both as gay and as a Christian, seeing the false dichotomy that has been constructed around these two identities is challenging and frustrating, because I personally don’t believe that such exclusivity has any place in either institution. At its core, Christianity is about love. Sure, there are endless theological arguments to be made, but I don’t believe that these are necessary in order for a Christian to be accepting of another’s sexuality. Indeed, many of my friends are Christians; these are the same friends who accept my sexuality and wholeheartedly support me. Furthermore, the professors at the private Christian university I attend vehemently assert that Christianity and social justice go hand- in-hand, and that this includes advocacy for LGBTQ+ rights. Seeing this kind of support coming from within circles that are often viewed as hostile toward the LGBTQ+ community has been so incredibly encouraging. Not only has this served to reinforce my identity as both a gay man and a Christian, but it has also provided me with confidence when speaking about these issues. 

What would you tell today’s LGBTQ youth who are struggling to come out in fear they won’t be accepted by family, friends, society? You just might be surprised. People you’d never expect to support you will rally around you and love you. It’s also possible that people who truly care about you, but who may not be supportive right now, will have a change of heart when they find out. Sometimes it takes time. Case in point: my own parents, who are still processing and learning about what it means to have a gay son. Know, too, that family can mean more than one thing. Friends are the family you choose, so seek out and surround yourself with people who will love and accept you for who you are, especially if your actual family doesn’t. As cliché as it sounds, it does get better. Sometimes you just have to put in the effort to make it better for yourself and accept the challenges along the way. 

What is a difficult or challenging obstacle you have overcame in your life, or hope to overcome? By far the most difficult obstacle I’ve had to overcome in my life has been my struggle with mental illness, namely anxiety and depression. I was extremely anxious as a young child, to the point where I would induce vomiting before any sort of performance or sporting event so that it wouldn’t happen while on stage or on the field. Looking back, I think my anxiety was to blame for a lot of missed opportunities. For example, I don’t view myself as a particularly athletic person. But is this actually true? Or did I just never really try for fear of failure? Anxiety also manifests itself in my relationships. Elementary school friendships were rocky at best, and college presented its own challenges with meeting people and putting myself out there. More recently, depression has been a major struggle in my life. As I mentioned, I struggled initially to make friends at college (though this has since changed), and as I result, I became very depressed. I saw all the people around me getting settled into their friend groups while I felt alone. There was a point where my loneliness led me to seriously contemplate suicide, and I believe that perhaps the only thing that stopped me was when a friend checked in on me and gave me a hug. Since that time, I’ve been working on slowly but surely moving my center of identity to within myself, rather than placing it in other people and their judgements of me. I am focusing on pursuing my hobbies and interests, taking time to care for myself, and accepting my emotions as valid while simultaneously analyzing them through an objective lens. By doing this, I have become less worried about maintaining relationships and instead have been able to be present and actually enjoy them while also feeling more comfortable in the times when I’m alone. 

Who is your biggest inspiration and why? My biggest inspiration is my mom’s sister Dawn. She is one of the wisest, most thoughtful, and most gracious people I know. I actually came out to her before I told my parents; due to her close relationship with my mom, I knew she would have some good suggestions for how to break the news to them, and that she would be able to help my mom process the news after the fact. To give an idea of the type of person Dawn is, here’s a little anecdote: When I worked as a Resident Assistant in college, I had a resident come out to me. I was thrilled and honored to have him entrust me with such a significant part of his identity, and I really valued the opportunity to walk alongside him in his journey. I mentioned to him the role Dawn had played in my own coming-out process, and he asked if she might be willing to offer some advice to his mom. I reached out to Dawn, and she willingly agreed. I came to find out later from this resident that his mother and my aunt had talked for over an hour on the phone. I don’t know very many people who would go so far out of their way to help and support a complete stranger. 

Where do you see yourself in five years? Oh boy. Honestly, I try not to plan too far ahead, because that can be dangerous for an overthinking dreamer like me. But if I had to say, five years from now I actually hope to be doing exactly what you guys (PJ & Thomas) are doing. I joke that my dream is to have my own HGTV show, and while the odds of that happening are slim to none, I’d be happy to flip houses and develop property even without a TV show. I also hope to meet the man of my dreams, get married, and start a family, though this might take a little longer than five years down the road to happen. My greatest fear is actually never finding love. I know it seems a little ridiculous for a twenty-one-year-old to be worrying about that sort of thing, but it’s hard when you have friends who have been in serious relationships for years or who are getting engaged. I have to keep reminding myself that people find love at different times and in different places, and that I shouldn’t compare my own journey with others’.

Any last words you want to leave people with? Feel free to share! Feel free to message me! I always love getting to meet new people and hear their stories.

Thank you so much, Matthew! You can follow him on Instagram here. Hope you have a great weekend, friends!! xx

P&T

[parkerparts]

Wishes from the Cursed

Demons like to take children in deals with desperate people. Sometimes, they return the children back to the world of mortals, but the Underground leaves its curse.

In a little cabin in the woods by a lake, two cursed children learn to fall in love.

Parkner Week 2019 Day Six: “Five Feet Apart ‘Cause They’re Not Gay” / Swimming / Hurt/Comfort

Read it on AO3 here.

Harley believes in the power of human touch, the worst of humanity, and demons. 

His mother was young once. Young, desperate, and pregnant at sixteen. She was hopelessly in love with the senior boy who tutored her in physics, but he saw the baby growing in her stomach, and he ran away. Leah Keener was young, desperate, pregnant at sixteen, and alone, There’s no worse fate than that. 

Sometimes, people get so desperate that they stop praying to the Lord and start praying to the demons. The demons come from the Underground to bargain, and barter, and cheat desperate people. Most people who make a deal with a demon end up worse off than they began. It’s only if you’ve got nothing to lose that you end up better off. 

Leah Keener hit rock bottom, and she began praying to demons, cradling her swollen belly and begging for salvation. 

The demon named Brannimus appeared to her on the night of the new moon. “You been asking for a demon, little lady?” he hissed, slithering closer to where Leah lay crying in the dirt of the hare’s meadow. “You got yourself a good demon, here. Brannimus is the best demon of all, miss, yes he is. He’ll strike you a good deal.”

“I’m alone,” Leah told Brannimus, sitting up and wiping the tears away the best she could. “My lover, he left me, and I’ve got this baby on the way, and I don’t got a place to stay, or a bite to eat, or a dollar to my name. I need that boy of mine, Brannimus. I need him to kiss me right like he used to, and we’re gonna raise our baby together.”

“Ahh, so you’re in love. Them lover fools, they’re the most desperate of them all.”

“Yes, I’m desperate. I’m the most desperate of them all, and I’m begging you for that boy of mine back.”

“And you’ll have him, this I promise, but you must promise me something in return.”

“Anything, Brannimus. Anything, and it will be yours.”

“Them lover fools are the most desperate of ‘em all,” Brannimus repeated. His long tail flicked Leah’s stomach. “If you’re desperate enough, you’ll promise me your firstborn child.”

And that’s how deals with a demon are made. 

As soon as the baby was out of the womb, Brannimus the demon appeared to Leah and whisked her child away, leaving behind a screaming, bleeding mother and the pitying midwife. The baby disappeared, but it was still in the world, so they christened him Harley after the hare’s meadow where Leah made that demon’s deal. 

Five years passed until the baby was seen again. In that time, Leah’s lover wandered his way back to the demon’s ditch called Rose Hill. They had another baby, a baby girl, who was an angel untouched by any demon’s hand. At the sight of her, Leah’s lover cried tears of joy, and they named her Abigail, which means father’s joy. 

The name Harley took on another meaning: father’s sorrow. 

When baby Abbie turned two, and the missing baby Harley turned five, Leah heard a knock on the door. The hand knocked five heavy times, and she feared the Brannimus had appeared to her again to take her angel child away. What she found at the door was much, much worse. 

Demons like to take children in their deals. Usually, the children disappear forever in the demon’s den. Sometimes, they return. However, demons leave their mark, and the children they send back to the world of mortals are cursed. 

Harley is a cursed child. 

They call it Brannimus’ Barrier. No human can get within five feet of him, for he’ll start screaming like he’s being burned from the inside out. 

“Damn that demon,” Leah would say at night as she tapped Harley’s forehead with a five-foot-long pole in an imitation of a goodnight kiss. “That bastard Brannimus, dooming my child to a cursed life.”

Leah’s lover would come up behind her and gently take the pole from her. He would guide her from the basement they kept Harley in and take her upstairs to the bed they shared and their normal, angel daughter. Harley would lie on a flea-ridden mattress in the basement, and the sound of the rats would put him to sleep. He’d wake the next morning when the basement door opened, and Leah pushed in a plate of breakfast with her five-foot pole. 

Harley spent five years in the demons’ den Underground. He spends ten more in the basement underground. He vows to spend twenty more years above the ground, and then he’d spend the rest of forever in Heaven, where dead children go to play. 

When Harley is fifteen, he sneaks out of the basement in Rose Hill and walks north for two weeks until he finds a clearing in the woods by a lake that’s clear enough to see his reflection in it. 

He’s never seen what he looked like. He never wants to again. 

Harley spends a month chopping wood and a month building his little log cabin in the woods by a lake. On the first night he spends inside of it, snow falls over the North. He’s never seen snow before. He wishes it would always snow. 

Harley spends a year in his little log cabin in the woods by a lake. With the fish in the lake and the berries in the woods, he wants for nothing. He has an alpaca named Gerald to keep him company on lonely nights, and it’s peaceful. It’s all Harley ever wanted. He turns sixteen on a full moon in the middle of winter. 

The snow melts, and summer comes again. With it, comes five heavy knocks on his door. Harley warily pushes it open with his five-foot-long pole. 

On Harley’s doorstep stands a boy. He’s ethereal, and Harley knows he’s no mere mortal. He’s just not sure whether the boy is an angel or a demon. “Don’t come closer to me than the end of this pole,” Harley warns, taking several steps back so that the boy can enter and close the door behind himself. 

“My name is Peter.”

“What are you, Peter?”

“I am a cursed child running from a demon’s ditch.” 

Harley drops the pole to the floor. An act of acceptance, but not yet a gesture of trust. “My name is Harley, and I am a cursed child running from the demon’s ditch.”

Peter hails from a place called Queens, which makes Harley laugh. “With a royal name like that, I’m surprised it’s not an angel’s palace.”

“I’ve never seen an angel’s palace, and I don’t think they’re real,” Peter says with an angry fire in his eyes. 

“There’s got to be an angel’s palace, right? For every demon, there’s an angel.”

“I’ve never seen an angel either. All I ever see are demons.”

“What are you saying?” Harley asks, standing up. “That we live in a world with no angels, just demons?”

When Peter smiles, he shows all his teeth. The expression he wears is feral. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Peter moves into Harley’s little log cabin in the woods by a lake. They section it off so they each have a side to themselves on opposite ends of the one-room house, and they share a common area in the center. If they’re careful, they manage to coexist around the five-foot pole Harley still carries with him as he walks around the house. 

“What’s your curse?” Harley asks one night. “Who cursed you?”

Peter’s story is similar to Harley’s. When he was three-years-old, his parents died, and he was given to an Uncle Ben and an Aunt May to be raised. They raised him right until he was ten, when Uncle Ben was shot in the head. Aunt May was poor, and she had to feed a boy that wasn’t even her own, so when the demon named Segroth appeared to her, she exchanged the boy to bring Uncle Ben back to life. Segroth took Peter away for five years, and when he was fifteen, he returned to Queens with a curse called Segroth’s Spider Bite. His senses were dialed to eleven. Everything was too loud, too bright, too much. For a year, he lived as a cursed child in a demon’s ditch, but Aunt May and Uncle Ben kicked him out, so he ran away to the woods “To find you, Harley. I think we were destined to find each other.”

Harley believes in the power of human touch, the worst of humanity, and demons. He doesn’t believe in destiny. 

“There’s no such thing as destiny, just desperation and the choices we make when we’re desperate.”

Weeks past, and summer’s almost over. When Peter turns seventeen, on a half moon in August, Harley makes a wild berry tart. They don’t have wax, so they stick a twig of wet, green wood in the center and light it on fire. It smokes too much to be a good candle, and it’s hard to blow out, but Peter manages anyway. 

“What did you wish for?” Harley asks. 

“To go swimming with you. Tonight.”

They strip to their shorts and go swimming by the light of the moon. It’s bright enough to see but dark enough to hide secrets, just how Harley likes it. 

Peter runs and jumps into the lake, sending up a wave of water that splashes squawking birds away. He comes up laughing. It’s bright enough for Harley to see the dark curls plastered to Peter’s glowing face and the way the light reflects off his wet, slim body, but it’s dark enough that Harley can’t read the expression in Peter’s shining eyes. He looks like an angel, Harley realizes, and he thinks that it’s a shame Peter had to be a cursed child because everything else about him reeks of angel grace. 

Harley looks like a demon. He wades into the water and stares at his reflection in the calm water, and all he sees are the features of a demon. 

For every demon, there is an angel, and Harley found his in a little log cabin in the woods by a lake. 

Peter creeps closer, and Harley realizes that he doesn’t have his pole. “Stay back. Five feet.” Peter is much farther away than five feet, but Harley is scared that if Peter comes any closer, he’ll do something reckless. 

“What, are you scared I’m going to seduce you or something?”

“I’m not gay,” Harley shoots back. “Gay is another demon’s curse, and if a child was cursed twice, than surely he’d be dead right now. I already have one curse, so I can’t be gay.” That’s what they told him, growing up in a basement in Rose Hill. That’s what they say down South.

“Gay isn’t a demon curse. It’s a human curse. A love curse.”

“Do you have it, this love curse?” Harley asks, backing slowly away. 

Peter steps forward boldly in response. “Yes.”

“Well, I don’t,” Harley demands, and he hates the way the panic creeps into his voice. Peter is twice-cursed, and surely no child can survive that, but here is one living and breathing and far too close for Harley’s taste. 

“How would you know? You’ve never loved a soul in your life.”

“I love you.” The words leave Harley’s mouth before he realizes what he’s saying. He chokes on shame on retches into the clear, calm lake. The wild berry tart tasted sweet going down. It tastes sour on the way back up. 

At least the vomit makes Peter back away. “That’s gay,” he says softly. “That’s love.”

Harley clambers out of the lake and runs inside the cabin. Peter doesn’t follow. 

There are two long months of miserable chill before the first snowfall. Harley keeps the fire lit and stomps up and down his cabin, kicking Peter’s things around and snapping all his five-foot poles in half. He spends cold nights wrapped in Peter’s blankets because Queens is colder than Rose Hill, and Peter had brought warmer blankets than Harley. The smell of the other boy, the scent of wild berries, birch wood, and summer sun, makes Harley nauseous, but he suffers through it all just to be a little bit warmer. 

Gerald disappears some time during the first month. Harley spends that day in Peter’s bed crying.

There are five heavy knocks on his door at sunrise on the day of the first snowfall. Harley pushes the door open with a broken, two-and-a-half-foot pole, but Peter is standing five feet away from the door, so Harley is safe. They don’t say any words. Peter just steps inside the cabin like he’s coming home after a long journey. He surveys the damage done, the way his things are scattered across the floor and how his blankets are all on Harley’s bed. He still says nothing, just cleans it all up and steals back his blankets, being mindful to keep five feet away from Harley, even without the full-length poles. They go back to living together like it’s summer instead of winter, and Harley can finally breathe a sigh of relief. 

“What does it feel like?” Harley asks one night. They’re curled up in chairs five feet apart in front of the fireplace. At Peter’s questioning look, he clarifies, “Touch. Human touch.”

Peter is quiet for a moment before answering. “Before I was cursed, before Uncle Ben and Uncle May took me in, I lived with my parents. Human touch. It’s the first form of communication. When you’re born, you don’t understand anything about the world, but you understand that your mother’s embrace is the safest place in this big, big world. Touch connects us, literally and figuratively. It comforts us, consoles us, excites us, makes us feel loved. We need touch like we need air to breathe.”

“I’ve lived this long without human touch. If I needed it like I need air to breathe, I’d have been dead three minutes after I was cursed.”

“I don’t know how you’ve lived this long without human touch. You’re the bravest, strongest person I know, Harley.”

The words make Harley’s chest ache in a warm way he doesn’t quite understand. “Thanks,” he mutters under his breath, and he hopes he looks sincere. He means it, he does, but he’s lost, and hurt, and confused.. 

“It’s better out here than in the demon’s ditch. In Queens, it’s noisy and bright and dirty, and it made everything hurt too much. After I was cursed, I couldn’t stand to be touched. No one really wanted to touch me anyway, but even touching the fabric of my clothes hurt too badly. Touch used to bring comfort to me, and now it only brings pain.”

“You’ll learn to live as long as I have without it. You’ll learn to live every longer. You’ll figure it out. I know you will. You’re the smartest person I know, Peter.”

Harley turns seventeen on a new moon in January. There are no berries to make a tart with and no green wood to make a candle out of, so they make do with maple syrup brittle and a dry stick that Harley has to blow out quickly before it burns the house down. 

“What did you wish for?” 

“To be able to feel human touch.”

Peter shakes his head. “You shouldn’t waste your wishes on undoing a demon’s curse. That’s a fool’s dream.”

The snow melts early that year, and Harley fears that Peter is going to leave again, leave Harley to face the miserably cold spring rains alone. Peter doesn’t leave though. He stays in the cabin and nurses Harley to health when he catches a nasty cold. His care consists of pushing cold rags and warm tea to Harley’s bedside with a new five-foot pole, but the gesture makes Harley smile. 

“Don’t leave me again,” Harley begs when his fever is at its highest. 

“Never.” Peter promises. “I will never leave you.”

Harley’s health returns with the summer sun. Peter leaves his worry behind in the mud of the spring rains, and they spend another summer as carefree boys who have a whole world to themselves in their cabin and their woods and their lake. 

Peter’s turns eighteen on a rainy day, and they can’t see the moon. They have their wild berry tart, but it’s storming too hard to go swimming. Instead, they dance in the rain, barefoot in the mud. Harley thinks it’s the most he’s ever heard Peter laugh. 

“What did you wish for?” Harley remembers to ask, once they’re dry and warming themselves by the fire. 

Peter turns to face him, and Harley’s heart stops a beat at Peter’s tear-stained face. “To dance in the rain with you forever.”

“That’s a fool’s wish,” Harley whispers back. “A foolish lover’s wish.”

It doesn’t matter. He’s just as much of a foolish lover as Peter. 

When the autumn chill comes and chases them back into the cabin, they feel pent up and reckless. “Do you think curses fade over time?” Peter asks as he paces up and down his side of the cabin. 

Harley finishes slicing the potatoes for dinner before replying. “No, but it would be nice if they did.”

He’s about to take the pot of roasted vegetables out of the fire when the pain hits him. It’s sudden, like a balloon of acid in his stomach had popped open, and its contents were corroding holes through his guts. The pain is over as soon as it begins, but Harley’s throat is sore from screaming, and he’s panting from where he lays on the ground, head dangerously close to the fire. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter says, and Harley has to close his eyes and swallow his rage down. 

“You should be,” he grits out. “What the hell were you thinking? You know the rules.”

“Harley,” Peter says softly. “Look at me.”

Harley looks at him, and Peter’s still standing far too close. There’s a broken five-foot pole in between Peter’s feet and Harley’s curled up body, which means there’s roughly two and a half feet in between them. Yet, Harley can’t feel the pain that’s supposed to come when Peter stands this close, the pain that hit him moments earlier. 

“How close were you standing when I, um, fell?”

“Less than two feet. This pole is one of shorter pieces.”

Harley takes a shuddering breath. Tears are pressing at his eyes, and he’s not exactly sure why. Pain, maybe, mixed in with hope and terrified confusion. “New rules. Two feet apart at all times.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Peter says with a ridiculous salute, and it’s enough to make Harley laugh. 

Their dinner is burnt, but neither of them really care. They’re eating dinner close enough to see the emotions in the other’s eyes, and it’s exhilarating. 

“I think I love you,” Peter says as they watch the first snowfall from in front of the fire. Harley chokes on his tea. 

“You think or you know?”

Peter considers it for a moment. “I think. I’m not really sure what love is, but I think it’s what I feel for you.”

“That’s fair enough,” Harley says, willing his heartbeat to resume a relaxed pace. 

“What about you? Do you love me?”

Harley sighs. “Yes. I told you that already, don’t you remember?”

“It’s nice to be reminded of it.”

They do their best to remind each other. Harley greets Peter every morning with a simple “I love you,” and wishes him goodnight with the same phrase every evening. Like clockwork. 

Peter, on the other hand, reminds Harley at random. “I think I love you,” he’ll say as Harley makes tea for the both of them in the morning, or as they curl up by the fire reading, or as they fish in the ice. It catches Harley slightly off-guard each time it’s said, but it never fails to bring a smile to his face. 

He wishes that Peter would drop the “I think,” but he’s a patient man, and he’d wait until they were both dead and well into the afterlife if that’s what it took. 

Harley turns eighteen on a half moon in January. “What did you wish for?” Peter asks, as soon as Harley hurriedly blows out the fire on a dry twig. 

“To love you forever,” he says, like the confession of a secret. 

“That’s a lover’s wish,” Peter chides him. 

Harley smiles. “Well, I have the lover’s curse.”

The spring rains wash away the winter snowfall, and the summer sun dries the spring rains. Through it all, two boys in a cabin in the woods by a lake grow closer, literally and figuratively. With every reminder and secret smile shared, they are able to close the gap between them slowly but surely. By the time the rains are dried, Harley and Peter can stand half a foot apart. It’s close enough to breathe in each other’s air and pick out every detail of the other’s face, but it’s still not close enough, not close enough to touch. 

Peter’s nineteenth birthday creeps up to them, and before they know it, the summer is nearly over, and Peter’s blowing out a wet green stick in a wild berry tart again. 

“What did you wish for?” Harley asks as they sit half a foot apart on the bank of the lake. 

“To touch you.” Harley closes his eyes and shakes his head with a fond smile. “No, listen to me. I just wished to touch you. You and only you. I will deal with the pain of touch from the rest of the world if it means I get to touch you and hold you in my arms. I want to show you what human touch is, Harley. Is that too big of a wish?”

Tears burn in Harley’s eyes, but he blinks them away. “Yes, but I hope it comes true anyway.”

Subconsciously, their hands inch closer together, and as the sun sets on their cabin in the woods by the lake, Harley feels a warm, electric touch on his finger.

He looks down. They’re hands are touching, fingertip-to-fingertip, and the realization knocks the breath out of Harley’s lungs. “I can touch you,” he breaths, letting his fingers dance over Peter’s palm. “I can touch you.”

“And I can touch you.” Peter sounds like he’s crying, and Harley looks up in alarm. He wants to touch Peter, but he won’t if the other boy will feel any pain. However, Peter doesn’t look like he’s in pain. Instead, he’s letting salty tears drip into his grinning mouth. “Harley, I can touch you, and it doesn’t even hurt.”

Human touch, Harley thinks, is incredible. He takes Peter’s hand in his own and relishes in its warm, comforting weight. Human touch is undeniable, he thinks as Peter’s lips press against his forehead. Human touch is maddening, he thinks. The two boys lay out by the lake in the fading light, pressed against each other in an impossible embrace. Human touch is everything. 

Harley believes in the power of human touch, the worst of humanity, and demons. But most of all, he believes in wishes.

They wake up by the lake to the wrath of the last summer storm and run shrieking into the cabin. Harley’s out of breath and laughing, and when Peter pulls him close, he feels like he’s on fire.

“I think this is an angel’s palace,” Harley says. “This cabin and these woods and that lake are an angel’s palace, and we are its angels.”

“We can’t be angels,” Peter whispers. “We’re touched with a demon’s curse.”

Harley stares at their intertwined bodies and snorts. “Are you sure about that?”

Peter doesn’t say anything. Harley thinks he’s never seen the boy look so confused.

In the cold months before the snowfall, the two boys touch each other as much as they can. It’s been years since Peter had been able to touch another person, and for Harley, it’s been a lifetime. One time, Peter touches Harley’s lips with his.

“That’s a kiss,” Peter tells him. “A true love’s kiss.”

It makes Harley cry, for some unfathomable reason. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

After that, Peter stops saying “I think I love you” and starts saying “I love you.” He says it more often too, but it still makes Harley smile every time.

“We have the love curse,” he jokes, as they curl up together on Peter’s bed. Harley’s bed is cold, and it hasn’t been used in weeks. 

Peter kisses him. “That’s the best kind of curse there is.”

Snow blankets the ground when they wake up. Harley drags Peter outside with him, and they spend the morning throwing snowballs at each other. When it stops snowing, and the world is too still, Peter runs after Harley and catches him in his arms. 

“Got you,” he cries triumphantly, pressing kisses all over Harley’s face.

Harley swats at Peter with a laugh. “Never let me go.”

Peter promises, “Never,” and Harley believes him.

When Harley turns nineteen, the moon is black, and the world is dark. They feed each other maple brittle and cuddle in the bed they dragged to be close to the fireplace. “What did you wish for?” Peter asks.

“To live and die by your side, forever in this angel’s palace.”

Peter’s face is unreadable.

The spring rains come to wash the snow away, but it brings a plague with it. Harley catches it first, his body having never really recovered from the first time he caught the spring sickness. He sleeps all day in the bed by the fire and only wakes to vomit in the pot by his bed. Peter sleeps in Harley’s old bed, and Harley swears he hears Peter praying some nights.

“Cursed children can’t speak to the Lord,” Harley croaks out when he catches Peter praying.

A fire burns in Peter’s eyes. “You said we weren’t cursed anymore. The least I can do is try.”

Harley stops vomiting, but the fever still burns. Fire spreads, and Peter’s catches a fever too. He lies in bed by Harley because there’s no use being apart if they both have the plague anyway. They sleep most days away, sometimes trying to eat when they’re awake, but mostly they just clutch each other tightly and hope they never have to let go.

“Do you still think this is an angel’s palace?” Peter asks.

Harley smiles bittersweetly. “Yes, and I think we are dying angels.”

When the summer sun chases the spring rains away, it shines on two boys in a cabin in the woods by a lake. These boys are supernatural. They are mortal children with demons’ curses who live in an angel’s palace. They are also dying, but at least they are together. It is all they have ever wanted.

Death comes for Harley and Peter slowly. They don’t know how long it will take. Harley says they will be dead by summer’s end, but Peter says it will take another year. It doesn’t matter, they agree in the end. As long as they die together.

“Do you promise to love me, Peter? Right now in life and forever in death?”

Peter kisses every inch of fever-warmed skin on Harley’s body. “Yes,” he whispers as Harley cries out. “I will love you always.”

“Good.” Harley trembles when Peter pulls away. “Because I too will love you always.”

Harley believes in the power of human touch, the worst of humanity, and demons. He also believes in love because he is so in love with Peter Parker.

“You’re an angel,” he says, reaching out to cup Peter’s face. 

“We are both angels,” Peter corrects. “Dying angels, but does it really matter?”

It doesn’t goes unsaid by both of them, and Harley believes. He believes in Peter, and somehow, along the way, he learned to believe in himself. 

“We’re both angels,” he agrees. He can see himself reflected in the light of Peter’s eyes, and he looks like an angel. “Dying angels, but we long as we’re together, it doesn’t have to matter.”

Peter pulls him close with a smile that borders on a laugh, and Harley’s too close to crying. They’re dying, but it doesn’t feel like dying. It feels like living.

Harley falls into Peter, and he lives and loves forever in death.

[iwants0up]

Cool For The Summer: Part 3

Weiss didn't think she should attend Ruby's family meeting, but with enough begging, Ruby convinced her to at least stand in a corner while the meeting was being held.

Right now they were on their way and a pit of anxiety twisted in the Schnee's stomach. She really shouldn't be going, but Ruby was too scared that someone, namely her sister, was going to die that day. The Rose told Weiss all about Claw and her confrontation with Yang. The whole thing reeks of ill will and well kept secrets. Who specifically is keeping the secrets? Unknown, but Weiss has a strong suspicion there is more to Claw than her bad temper and anonymity.

Upon arrival they find everyone standing on the steps leading up to the vast manor of the Rose/Xiao Longs. Including a certain masked woman. Claw was holding hands with Yang, seemingly relaxed despite the mask hiding her face and the long cloak and hood making her features less distinguishable. 

Their chauffeur opened the door for them and Ruby exited, then Weiss. The people turned to look at them and Tai-yang came forth, smiling a big smile that caused crows feet in the corner of his eyes. "You're here!" He exclaimed at a stupidly loud volume, wrapping Ruby in a welcome, if not just slightly unexpected, hug. "We've been waiting," he added with a faint edge.

"I know, and I'm sorry." Ruby said quietly, moving closer to Weiss once her father relinquished his hold on her.

“And I see another one of my daughters brought an unexpected guest!” Tai-yang chuckled, though now his words were soaked in disdain and untold hatred. He moved away swiftly, rejoining the conversation with Yang and Claw.

The two girls made their way up the steps and to Qrow, probably the only person in the family who supported Ruby in her endeavor to not become a gang leader. “It’s a dirty business” he always said with a drunken smile “be proud to keep your hands clean, the world needs more people like you.” 

He was talking to another Claw clone with fervor. “I can’t believe the Scorpions actually thought they could cross your territory line! You have one of the most formidable boundary patrols there is!”

“I know,” the masked woman replied smoothly. “It was a dumb move made by the dumbest of them all. I do, however, believe that they thought they could make it through for some unknown variable. What do you think; do I have a mole on my hands?”

Qrow took a swig of fire whiskey, straight out of the bottle. Wiping his chin where some of it dribbled down, he replied, “it’s probable. Knowing them, though, it wouldn’t be someone who has been in your ranks long.” 

“Hmm, I’ll take that into consideration. Thank you, Qrow.” And with that, the clone dispersed first into a kind-of black smoke, then vanished completely.

“What is it with Claw and her clones?” Ruby asked when Qrow finally noticed her standing there.

“I would think it would be so she can’t be assassinated.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think Yang would sleep with a coward.” Qrow laughed at that and pulled Ruby into a quick but warm hug. “I’ve missed you,” he said quietly.

“I’ve missed you too, Uncle Qrow. Hey, do you know why dad called this meeting?”

“Nope, and neither does he.” The man burped and finished off the bottle.

“What does that mean?”

“He got an anonymous call saying someone in our family was a traitor and when everyone is gathered here, more information will be sent.”

Ruby didn’t like the sound of that but she couldn’t comment as just then her Uncle noticed Weiss. “Weiss Schnee. huh? Well, whatd’ya know.”

The girl held out her hand, taking a steadying breath in and out. “Pleased to meet you.” He didn’t shake it, just turned his gaze to his niece's small form; “Ruby, what is this?”

“She’s a friend.” Was all Ruby revealed and the hard look she gave Qrow signified that that was all she’d reveal and no amount of pushing will change that.

“Stubborn. Just like your mother.” Qrow walked away, stumbling up the rest of the stairs and staggering over the threshold of the huge mansion. No more words could be exchanged before Tai-yang’s voice bellowed out, “everyone! In the house. Now!”

So everyone filed in, first family, then the servants who had been standing outside with them.

The procession continued into a large courtroom, though Ruby and Yang nicknamed it the “Chamber of Untold Horrors” when the red-head was just three years old. It seemed boundless when they were children, now it just seems like a sad, empty room. The paintings that serve as the wallpaper seem to prove that this place was once a gay area and the designed wood flooring made it seem as if balls were once held here. Ruby can almost hear a waltz of some kind if she tries hard enough, but alas, this room will no longer hold anything that brings any sort-of joy. And it hasn’t since long before the artist was born.

Tai took a seat on a chair in the middle of the room and everyone else stood by the walls in front of him (asides from the servants, they stood behind him). “Someone in this room is a traitor. It is as simple as that. Either one of you is a traitor or I got an email from someone who’s intentions were just to fuck with me. In all honesty, I find the former to be more likely. With enough work and time anyone would know that I could track them within a few days and so the risk would be too high. I have not read what their next message says yet, I want to do that out loud so the traitor may hear their own demise.”

A dramatic pause.

“Here we go then.” He opened the email and began to read; “dear Tai-yang, you heeded my advice and got the family together, very good. I’ll get straight to the point. Ruby Rose is the person you are looking for. Weiss Schnee is no friend, but a lover. And the nights they have spent together are innumerable.” Tai paused and met Ruby’s gaze, she was too shocked to say anything. He continued. “Though that is not her main offense, her main offense is that she has spent time at the Schnee manor, even gone so far as meeting the girl’s mother, Willow. In this time she has heard plans the Schnee family are making against other gangs, even your own gang, the Black Knights. Has she said anything? No... she has... not.” Ruby was sure there was more, but Tai stopped there and looked up at his youngest daughter. “Is any of this true?”

It was true, Ruby can’t lie. But it never even crossed her mind before, it was just the normal rivalry, it’s not like they were planning to kill her father or anything. But how does she explain that? How does she tell her father that she withheld information from him for a reason as petty as ‘it’s the norm’?

“I-i, I don’t...”

“It’s not.” Weiss stepped forward, hands on her hips and a haughty attitude for good measure. “My family would not be so dumb as to discuss plans in front of the daughter of the leader of a rivaling gang. Especially one the plans were about. I assure you, Tai-yang, your little informant didn’t even take the time to make their lies plausible. And I’m personally insulted by this affront .”

Tai-yang paused, looking between Ruby and Weiss. “I want to hear it from her.”

There was nothing Weiss could do now, and everyone knew that. Ruby won’t lie, lying makes her feel bad, it leaves a pit in her stomach and she always ends up confessing anyway because she feels so guilty. 

“I~”

“Leave her alone Tai.” Qrow piped up, wiping his mouth from what was either liquor or vomit, nobody could tell as he just entered the room. “I heard everything from the hall and I think the Schnee is telling the truth.”

“I want to hear it from her.” The man growled, standing up. “Well?”

With everyone sticking up for her, Ruby was really starting to question if she should attempt to lie or not. Why were they making this so difficult?!

“No,” she said hesitantly, not looking her father in the eye.

“No what?” His voice was harsh and impatient, it reminded Ruby of the day she said she was moving to Mistral for the year and her father demanded answers. He wouldn’t stop yelling and saying the answers she provided weren’t good enough. She needed to be clear, concise, and she was anything but that.

“No,” Ruby proclaimed, firmer this time. “I never heard any plans.”

“Why should I believe you?” 

“What?” Ruby squeaked, taken aback.

“Why should I believe you?” Tai asked again, moving forward a few paces.

“Tai,” Qrow started.

“Don’t!” The word boomed and echoed through the almost empty space, sending shivers up people’s spines.

Calm and quiet, Claw stepped forward. It was only a step and yet it held so much meaning; “watch yourself, or I may not like what your doing and stop you.” Yang did the same, though she didn’t stop at one step, she went all the way until she was standing in front of her fuming father. “Back off.” Her eyes were red and even Tai knew not to mess with Yang when her Semblance was activated. He backed off, but more words flew off of his dagger-like tongue.

“She has slept with our biggest enemy, kept secrets from us and now she might even have been aiding them in their quest to eliminate us. If you want to protect her, be my guest. But when she hands that Schnee play-thing of hers the knife to drive into all of our backs... don’t blame me.” 

.X.X.X.

“What?! How could you? How could you keep that from me?!” Ruby screamed in tears as she backed away from a crying white-haired woman. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” And in a flash Ruby was gone, rose-petals left in her wake. All that was left was a weeping Schnee and a broken promise.

“Why did you tell her, why, why?!” She asked herself over and over again. “You knew what would happen!” Some secrets just aren’t meant to be told and the one about Ruby’s mother, was obviously one of them.

you can find part 2 here and part one here

[imagine-loki]

The Angry Storm

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 5/?

AUTHOR: Solaramoonset

ORIGINAL IMAGINE:  Imagine Loki bringing a little girl to Thor and making him apologize for scaring her to bits with his thunderstorms whenever he’s in a grumpy mood

RATING: General

NOTES/WARNINGS: So far this story has been sweet fluff. This chapter is a little darker, just a little though. Look for the series on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1284584

CHAPTER TITLE: Sparkly and Shiny

Soulmarks are weird things. The universe just kind of throws people together. Its not like the movies, not all soulmarks are romantic. What I mean is not all soulmarks mean a happy ever after, forever kind of love. I have two soulmarks, one romantic and one platonic. Both I meet through my Uncle Steve. At this point I’m sure dad has forbidden Uncle Steve from introducing people to me. Although, to be fair, I was six when I met my platonic soulmate and twenty when I met my romantic. Also to be fair the frist time Uncle Steve spoke to me was introducing my platonic to “a child in a safe and controlled enviroment”. No one expected one of my soulmates to pop up. I’m sure it scared the pants off both Uncle Steve and Dad. I remind my soulmate, he’s human, he reminds me its ok to be scared and to let others help me through my fears. He’s my best friend, and even if he wasn’t gay, anything romantic would just be weird. He’s known since I was a child for pete’s sake.

“Daddy, are the other people in the tower my Aunts and Uncles?”

“Not in the tradtional sense, but I supose we are as close as family.”

“Should I call them Aunt and Uncle?”

“If you like, however you will have to ask them first and we will have to come up with some distinction for Thor. That oaf will be offended otherwise.”

“Since we’re all a family that means you won’t send me back to the orphanage, right?” I turned hopeful eyes up to dad.

“Send yoy back? Marionette where would you get an idea like that? You are my daughter forever more.”

“Well its been almost six months. When people leave the orphanage, they come back at six months, or not at all. I’ll be good I promise!” Dad grabbed me and held me in a tight hug, his head resting on mine.

“Little one, you are home. We are your family. You will not be sent back.” I wrapped my arms around dad’s neck. I didn’t want to tell him I had been “adopted” once before. After an awkward six months with only a “mom”, I had been sent back to the orphanage. I didn’t know how to tell him I was terrified he’d send me back too, so terrified I had begun having nightmares.

“Let’s have a special day. Stark has a pool, Natasha has been wanting to take you swimming. Let’s have a lazy pool day. We’ll invite everyone.” Dad looked down into my eyes. I nodded hesitantly. I didn’t know how to swim, but I didn’t want to disapoint him.

“FRIDAY, can you have Natasha come meet us?” Loki called.

“Right away.” Natasha was knocking on the door within minutes. Dad set me down to let her in.

“Thank you for coming by so quickly. We both have something to ask of you. Marionette, would you like to go first?” I walked slowly over to Aunt Nat and looked up into her smiling face.

“MissNatashacanIcallyouAuntNatasha?” I squeaked out.

“I’m sorry Solnyshko, I didn’t understand that. Take a deep breath and try again for me?” I did as she asked and took a deep breath.

“Miss Natasha, may I call you Aunt Natasha?” I looked up with pleading eyes.

“No Solnyshko, but you may call me Aunt Nat. Only my favorite people get to call me Nat.” Aunt Nat winked at me. I looked up in awe, tears in my eyes from her initial no. I launched myself at her legs, sobbing thank you’s.

“Now Natsha for my favor. Would you take Marionette to get some swimwear? I’m not sure what midgardians wear. We’re having a family pool day. I will be inviting all of Marionette’s Uncles.”

“Of course. I know the perfect shop.” While dad and aunt Nat were talking I thought about something special to call Thor.

“Daddy since Mr. Thor makes stroms maybe I can call him Stormie?”

“That idiot will love it.” Dad kissed my forhead and headed out.

“Aunt Nat…”

“Yes Solnyshko?”

“How do you swin?”

“I will teach you, and we’ll pick up some floaties to go with your swimsuit.” Later while we were trying on swimsuits I noticed a line of script running along Aunt Nat’s bicep.

“Aunt Nat! you have words too!” I pointed to her arm. Aunt Nat nodded down at me.

“Do you have words Solnyshko?” I nodded and showed off my stomach. Aunt Nat studied my two sets of words for a few minutes.

“You are very special, having two marks is a rare gift.”

XXXXX

Together Aunt Nat and I walked into the room with the pool. It looked like Uncle Tony had devoted an entire floor just for this one room. Uncle Tony was there with a posh looking red head I hadn’t met yet, she smiled sweetly and waved at us. Dad was talking to Uncle Clint and Stormie. I made my way over to them.

“Mr. Barton?” I called and gently tugged on his shorts. He knelt dow in fornt of me.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can I call you Uncle?” Uncle Clint stared at me with wide eyes. He looked up at Loki a wide smile breaking out on his face. Picking me up he twirled us around.

“I’m an Uncle!!! Did you hear that you guys??”

“Calm down Clint. Solnyshko, you don’t have to use his last name anymore. You can call him Clint as well.”

“Ok Aunt Nat.” After Uncle Clint put me down I went to Stormie. He had a sad look on his face.

“You wish to ask to call me Uncle as well, little one?” He asked me. I shook my head and smirked up at him.

“No. You’re not just an uncle, you're my Stormie. You keep the thunder away, that’s so much better than a boring old uncle.” Stormie hugged me tightly as we ignored Uncle Clint’s protests that Uncles weren’t boring.

“Come Solnyshko, let’s get in the water.” Aunt Nat offered me her hand. We walked to the shallow end of the pool. She was very gentle with me, and I tried to pay attention but I kept sneaking glances at dad. I wanted him to notice me doing well. At one point I noticed Uncle Steve go up to dad, they seemed to have an argument, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying, we were too far away.

“Marionette, Natsha will you both come here please.” Dad was frowning, he never frowned at me. I took hold of Aunt Nat’s hand and half hid behind her leg as we approached them.

“Hi Marionette, I’m Steve. I have a friend I’d like to to meet in a safe and controlled environment. No matter what happens, you’re safe ok? You’ve got your dad and Natsha right by you-”

“Scare her amymore and I’ll introduce you to your spleen.” Dad hissed. Uncle Steve looked from dad to me, wide eyed and half hidden behind Aunt Nat still.

“Right. let’s get started shall we? Thor if you could stand by Natsha… Thanks. Hey Buck, come on over.” Slowly a rough looking man came over. At first I thought he was a hobo, but I noticed his cloths were too new, too nice. His arm caught the light and seemed to sparkle. I squealed and run out in front of Natsha.

“Sparkly and shiny! Can I touch it?” A horrified look came over his face.

“What did you just say?!?” Uncle Steve whispered towering over me. Dad looked murderous, I didn’t understand the look wasn’t directed at me. I began to back up, tears starting to fall down my cheeks.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean it. I’ll be better. I can be good! Don’t send me back.” I continued to back up, not noticing the pool edge. I was beginning to shake.

“Solnyshko, you’re not in trouble. I need you to stop moving, and tell me where you think we’d send you?"Aunt Nat’s vioce was so soft, so gentle.

"The orphanage its-” I tumbled backwards into the water. I tried to remember what Aunt Nat had said earlier but nothing seemed to work and I kept sinking. When I thought I’d never get to the surface again, a shiny arm wrapped around me and hualed me back up. For me I was underwater an eternity but later I would be told it was closer to fifteen seconds. I coughed and sputtered as the man Uncle steve had called Buck patted my back.

“Listen to me doll, I don’t know whats exactly going on but I promise you, there’s no way in hell you’re going back to an orphanage.” I stared at him in wonder as Aunt Nat started cursing in Russian. That was the moment I knew I was home, these people were my family. I finally had a home and family. I was safe and wanted.

“Those are my words.” I whispered. The sound had barely left my lips before I was pulled from Bucky. Dad craddled me to his chest as Stormie called Mjolnir.

“Marionette I’m not sure why you think someone is going to send you away. Good or evil, well behaved or not, you are my daughter. You are NOT going anywhere. I will kill anyone who tries to take you from me, or tries to send you away.” My lip trembled and I sobbed hugging dad tightly.

“As for you Barnes, you may have supervised visitation only with my daughter and only becuase you saved her. You lay one finger out of line and I’ll happily send you to Helheim, as slowly and painfully as possible. Rodgers, we will see exactly how much pain it takes for you to die.” Dad growled at Uncle Steve and Bucky. Stormie coughed and muttered something I couldn’t hear.

“Fine you stupid oaf. We will see how much pain until he passes out. Repeatedly. Marionette tommorw I think I will introduce you to the joys of stabbing people. You have my permission to stab Rodgers or Barnes anytime you wish. Now my sweet daughter, lets go home.” I waved over Dad’s shoulder as he stormed away.

END

[thelowlysatsuma]

Ramble in whatever form you choose. I won’t be able to be active all the time so if you want to be able to do it whenever you want I’d say text posts but I’ll also try to occasionally ask you about them so there’s some variety

!!! okay! well i think i’ll choose a couple from the list that i haven’t made many posts about before (aka no ts or go) and ramble on here!

oof under the cut bc idk how long this will get

steven universe

oh hon don’t even get me STARTED on su like that shit? that shit is so good? okay first of all i love the cast so much? gosh they’re just all so sweet and cool and sometimes they collab w/ thomas sanders and i love rebecca sugar and im gonna cry they’re so sweet im so soft

okay SECONDLY the show itself oof

okay okay im just? god im so soft?? like the music is so good, i can (and do) watch it w/ my parents, GOD do i wanna cosplay pearl’s new outfit (and rainbow 2.0, if i can pull it off), im in love with the concept and all the fusions and the story and the worldbuilding and god, this made me realize my utter love and adoration of COLOURS like they’re so PRETTY im in LOVE oh my gOD and just

god it has such a good message and such a good plot and such good characters i wanna be steven’s friend i wanna be all of their friends oh man i just can’t wait until my baby cousins are old enough for me to show this to them because i’m going to enjoy that experience so much

ducktales

oh jfc where the fuck do i even start with ducktales okay david tennant as scrooge mcduck makes my fucking life literally he’sthe best goddamn charaacter in the show – well, best besides the triplets (my BOYS), webby (!!! my KID), f e n t o n (god i love that nerd), mark beaks (what an asshole), mrs beakley (i wanna be her when i grow up), launchpad (!!! he!!), and so many others??? this is like serious every character in the show erasure but hot damn duck tales says gay rights and it does so in style (oh yeah also i love lena della donald oh webby’s new friend whose name i forget uhhh herules oh the inventor guy fenton’s boss that dipshit love him uhhh gandra dee who’s voiced by jameela jamil if im not mistaken??????) and yeah it’s a hilarious show but it’s also just a really good one for me to watch whenever i start to like. feel empty inside?? but then like i’ll put on ducktales and i’ll feel better

gravity falls

this show. this show RUINED ME. i started watching it like four years late (aka last year lmao) but GOD, im so in love with it. def another one i wanna show my cousins.

like?? just??? the ciphers and mysteries appeal so much to me and my love of mystery and crime novels, the characters are all amazing, alex hirsch himself is just such a g?? and like. it’s so good. it hurts me so much but then it’s all okay in the end and it’s just. it’s so good.

yeah i sobbed my eyes out when i watched that series finale.

camp camp, which somehow i forgot on my other list

god, is this show hilarious. like, fuck is it funny. it’s so good. it’s so fucking good. i was a little shocked when i saw the first episode but i’m so into it now, and i’m so attatched to all the characters bc they’re just dumbasses trying their best (or worst, in a few cases) and i love them for it. that’s peak fool energy right there and it speaks to me

orphan black

okay okay okay veering now into a much darker type of television, orphan black is??? phenominal???

okay so my best friend @fuck-me-gently-with-a-slurpee got me into it when i was like 14 or 15 i think and i honestly cannot thank her enough because this show is incredible. the plot’s super engaging, i literally cannot say anything about it without giving away spoilers, and the main character has quite possibly the best actor i’ve ever seen playing her

like. you think thomas sanders is good? he ain’t got SHIT on tatianna maslany

mythbusters

you guys. you guys. mythbusters was my childhood. like seriously, i watched that show religiously.

it’s what first got me into science, and it’s what kept me interested in explosions. it’s light and funny and ridiculous and scientifically accurate in the dumbest ways possible. i swear to god the main cast nearly dies once an episode

these guys are my idols. like, i seriously cannot overstate how much i love the mythbusters. adam and jamie, tori, kari, and grant.

when i was a kid, i wanted to be a mythbuster when i grew up, and god damnit, i still do. they mean that much to me

bill nye

fun fact! i actually had no fuckin clue who bill nye was until seventh grade, when i had to watch an episode of his show for homework because i missed a day of class. it was the episode on static electricity, and i remember sitting at my dining room table in the dim winter afternoon light, squinting at my computer, and thinking “what the FUCK am i WATCHING?”

needless to say, i’ve seen more since then, but that initial what the fuckery is still present and i love it.

not only is bill nye the science guy a flippin fantstic show, but bill nye himself? the coolest guy alive. god, i love him. what a g.

various comedians including but not limited to john mulaney,john oliver, and hasan minhaj

okay, as a gay, i am legally required to love john mulaney, but seriously that guy is so. fuckin. funny that i can’t help myself. his timing is priceless, the way he moves onstage is hysterical, just. god i love his stuff.

literally his comedic timing and style is half the reason people find me funny. i just phrase my sentences the way he would because, you know, i’m good at stealing things, and people laugh, and i go “hey. that actually worked”. and then i keep doing it

next, john oliver. okay, so while i don’t watch his show religiously, i do watch it when my parents do every now and again, and fuck is his stuff funny. like. just. shit.

finally, hasan minhaj’s patriot act is just. one of my favourite current events comedy shows out there. it’s in a similar vein to john oliver’s stuff, just more international, and shit, is he good at what he does. i lvoe it.

hoodwinked the movie (i am dead serious)

okay, while i haven’t seen it in over four years, this is still my favourite movie of all time. it also has one of my favourite villain songs of all times, and some of the best character exchanges just. ever. especially with wolf and twitchy

...god, i love twitchy. also the goat. i’m probably gonna be the goat when i grow up, let’s be honest

one day at a time

i just.

there’s so much to say about odaat. like. it’s so funny. it makes me nearly cry every episode (and makes my mother actually cry every episode). the characters, god, the characters

like. alex is such a cute dumb kid (who’s smarter than he looks), penelope is so salty constantly and i love her but she’s genuinely so cool and such a good mom and i cry??? elena is so amazing like god she’s such a fuckin nerd but she’s also so salty (takes after her mom) and is literally the best????

and then there’s abuelita, whom i adore. like, god, rita moreno is SO cool and SUCH a great actress and has SUCH an amazing sense of comedic timing and GOD, i LOVE HER

can’t forget about syd and doc berkowitz, which like. okay first off the good doc. just. god i love the doc. he’s so sweet and such a genuinely good dude and he’s a bit of a coward at heart but that’s okay because he genuinely cares and does his best and god he’s just such an amazing character im !!!!! and then syd is such a dork and i love them and elena and god, it made me so happy to see not only an actual enby character on a big sitcom, but also just?? like??? it’s not forced but it’s still there??? like there’s one episode where one of the plots is just syd and elena trying to figure out what elena should call them, since neither of them are comfy using “girlfriend” for syd since they’re not a girl, and they finally agree on “significant other” and schneider imMEDIATELY says “dont you mean, SYDnificant other?” and then they use that for the REST OF THE SHOW IT”S SO CUTE OKAY

and finally, schneider. he might be my favourite character in the entire show (which is a damn hard list to pick from!!!), but he’s just. he’s so sweet, he and penelope have one of the absolute best male/female friendships i’ve ever seen (which! never! turns! romantic! ever!!!), he’s actually got surprising depths but he’s also like such a nice goofball that when they get revealed, it hurts, and he’s just this canadian dumbass (heyyyyy repreSENT) with the worst goddamn canadian accent sometimes and he’s a hipster and The Dumb Friend and the weird uncle all rolled into one and GOD, i love him so much

the good place and brooklyn 99

okay, i love these two both so, so much, but i’m lumping them together because a) they’re both mike schur shows with a similar sense of humour, that say gay rights, and with characters who’d definitely love each other if they met and b) my hand is getting tired from all this typing but i still have so much  love to go around!!!!

okay so so SO! they’re both so good. they’re so fucking funny and amazing and i was immediately hooked on both of their pilots. their characters are all so genuine and flawed and fucking hysterical to watch, and the ships and friendships are all so amazing and pure and good and soft and they have their problems and they WORK THEM OUT HEALTHILY AND IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY OKAY!!!

god, i literally cannot overstate how much i adore these two shows. mike schur, you’re a wonderful, wonderful dude. thank you so much

many musicals (top faves include BOM, hamilton, legally blonde, chicago, matilda, and more!)

i’m putting the musicals together because while i do adore each and every one of them individually, i also just have great big deep-seated love of the art of musical theatre itself in general, ya feel?

like, as someone who’s been both performing and viewing them from a very young age, the sheer sense of utter joy they bring is almost unparalleled

not to be That Bitch who quotes musicals, but “and that hop in our hearts as the overture starts lets us know how lucky we are” might be the closest i’ve ever gotten to finding words to fit the feeling when the lights go down and the show begins. it’s simply phenomenal

the others series by anne bishop

okay, OKAY, if you haven’t read this series (first book called written in red – they have terrible titles but god, they’re worth it), then what are you doing with your life? like, not only is there the perfect logicality au to them (just sayin’), but god, it’s such an incredible series

the worldbbuilding is so cool and the characters are all great and god the ships are the damn hill i die on it’s got literally such a good “sort of enemies mostly just dislike each other to reluctant acquaintances to friends to lovers” ship and it deals with some serious issues rlly well and it’s got baby puppies!!!

like, they’re wolf puppies, but still, they are b a b e y

and finally (for now, at least), the mysterious benedict society, by trenton lee stewart

this book series was my childhood. i mean, there are so many other books i could be talking about right now that i utterly adore (the artemis fowl series springs to mind), but gosh, MBS just brings me such absolute joy to read that i just had to have it on here.

i’m not thinking straight at this point in the evening, but i just wanna say that i will never, not ever forget about reynie. about kate. about sticky. about constance. about rhonda and number two and milligan and miss perumal and my absolute son sq pedalian and, of course, i will never, never forget about mr benedict

it’s bright, and it’s bittersweet, and it’s beautiful.

and it’s good. simply, utterly, wonderfully good.

thank you for the ask, anon.

thank you.