#skivving goals

[laku-incarnate]

[sevdrag]

I have nobody to talk GO with so please imagine Crowley talking Az into playing strip poker and crowley losing horribly. Like he almost nakey but still has a big smile on his face while Az is fully clothed bc he's actually very good at cards

So many thoughts about this scenario man. First one is the assumption that Crowley would propose the game thinking hey maybe I can get Aziraphale to roll his sleeves up because Crowley is, of course, good at poker. Mainly because he cheats like mad. And he’s gotten good at cheating.

But Aziraphale is naturally good at poker. Card counting? He invented it. Puzzles and chances? He’s read every trick in the book. And he catches every single cheat Crowley has right away, and then Crowley doesn’t have anywhere to hide the cards cause he’s lost his shirt, and he realizes he actually doesn’t know how to play poker — he only knows how to CHEAT at poker. So there he is down to his skivs and Aziraphale hasn’t even rolled up his sleeves and what a horrible idea this was.

But then there’s the thought that Crowley’s maybe losing on purpose. Maybe his goal is to get naked. He knows what he looks like, and at worst, it will fluster Aziraphale — which is always fun. At best ... he doesn’t really want to think about that option, not too hard, but he’s worn his best red pants just in case.

[bitletsanddrabbles]

WIP Wednesday: A Frustrated End to a Frustrating Year

I’m not really one for New Year’s resolutions, but I do set myself goals, because occasionally they’ve resulted in at least a good amount of headway on some project or another before falling apart.

My goal for 2020 was this: Get at least a complete working draft of my Thomas-as-long-lost-heir-fan-novel. I have the beginning, mostly. The movie helped me with the end. The middle has always need figuring out, but with the help of my beta reader, I was sure I could manage. I relayed these goals to my beta, posted what I had for her to look at, told her what I needed help with (pacing, structure, no grammar because it’ll undoubtedly be rewritten later) and knuckled down to it.

Five grammar edits later, all I’ve gotten from my beta is reasons she’s been unavailable - at least for this piece. I’ve tried finding a second, more Downton oriented beta with zero luck. Historical research has lead to the purchase of several books that don’t answer my questions. The discovery that the relatively-nearby City Library (as opposed to the glorified red-box-for-books a block away) is now part of the county system and therefore accessible came right after the pandemic hit.

In short, I’ve gotten nowhere, and it doesn’t really look like I ever will.

So it seems fitting that the last WIP snippet of the year be from the one piece I most want to exist that I’m increasingly convinced never will because no one else will write it the way I want and I’m not capable of it.

At least my characters can be as frustrated as I am.

That surprised a short bark of laughter out of Thomas. “Are we, sir? Related?”

Branson eyed him for a moment, then shrugged. “According to that journal you’re my brother-in-law. Where I’m from, that counts as being related.”

“Well don’t worry. You don’t have to acknowledge it on my account.” Pointedly, Thomas turned his attention back to the papers.

“If you come upstairs I do,” Branson insisted. “If you come up, we’re going to have to learn to get on, at least as much as Mary and Edith ever did.” He paused, then added, “And I don’t know that our relationship’s ever been that bad, unless you hate me more than I ever guessed. We have gotten along in the past, at least enough to play cricket for the same team and win at tug-o-war.”

Thomas hesitated over the papers, but didn’t really have a response to that, so he didn’t give it.

The silence was apparently too much for the other man’s patience. “What is wrong with you?” he huffed.

“I beg your pardon?” Thomas asked, finally raising his eyes from the paper.

“You heard me. Why are you so bloody minded about everything? You get upset that other servants pass you up and get recognition that you don’t, but now when you have your chance, you’re sitting down here sulking.”

That hit a nerve. “What did you ever do to deserve it?” Thomas snapped. Everything shattered, his temper and his caution. “What did you or Gwen ever do to deserve that recognition? Work for a few years and then take off to something better. Come back later and everything’s boomps-a-daisy and people love you for it, and for what? Marrying the right people? Burning down a castle? I’ve worked here for sixteen years, fighting for every promotion, most of which people will probably still tell you I didn’t earn, and have I ever been recognized for it? Am I being recognized now? No, instead I’m suddenly worth notice because someone, somewhere lied about who I was and it turns out I’m supposed to be someone worthwhile.” He realized he was shaking. Glowering, he fell silent, willing his breaths to even out, waiting for the counter attack. Because there always was one, wasn’t there? He couldn’t ever be right about something.

For a long stretch, there was no answer. When it did come, it was far calmer than Thomas ever would have expected. “You’re right. It’s not fair,” the other man agreed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “The entire class system is backwards and broken, that’s why I’m a Socialist. But that means I’m an outsider in this house, same as I was before, and while things have changed and gotten easier, that’s still one place where I don’t fit, and I doubt I ever will.” He paused, then added, “I didn’t marry Sybil to be better than anyone else, or to get ahead of anyone. I married her because I loved her and because she loved me. I never expected my in-laws to accept that, but they have, and some more readily than I’d have ever imagined. I’m sorry if that’s made you feel unappreciated,” his lips quirked in an ironic smile. “Honestly, though, if you’d decided to skiv off to the pictures rather than sitting there watching me eat my breakfast, I’d not have told anyone. I don’t see why they left me anyone, ever. And now?” he shrugged. “You can stay here and feel unappreciated, or you can come upstairs and try to find your way there. Or you can try something completely new. I can’t make that decision for you, but if you need help, you can ask.”

“Like I did this morning?” Thomas half spat. The other man’s touching speech left him feeling drained, not angry anymore, not like he had been, but frustrated and hollow and, more than anything, trapped.

“I’m sorry about that.” Branson grimaced. “I didn’t understand what you were asking or why. But I meant what I said. It’s not easy, but it can be done, and for me at least it’s wound up being worth it.” He stood. “I’ll let you get back to your work, but if you need anything more, I’ll try to be more understanding in the future.”

Thomas had no reply to that other than a weary, wary nod. It seemed to be enough and the other man left. Thomas sighed and rubbed at his temples, trying to stave off the headache that was building there, and vowed never to ask Branson for anything ever again.

#

“Tom!” Mary’s surprised exclamation greeted him as he left the servant’s hall. “What on earth were you doing downstairs?”

He gave her a weary smile. “Just having a heart-to-heart with my newest brother in law, or trying to at any rate. Not quite certain how it went.”

She descended the last flight of stairs and came to a stop in front of him. Her voice was a study in calm, but her smile was too stiff and her voice a touch too bright to fool him, “Has he given any indication of whether or not he’s going to move up?”

“No. Not to me at least.”

Mary sighed and rolled her eyes. “I do wish he’d get a move on with that. All of this uncertainty is driving me up the wall.”

“Don’t worry,” Tom chuckled. “He’s not fairing any better on that point. I’m sure he’ll decide soon. He’ll have to.”

[grimalkinmessor]

Headcanon - Vernon Dursley vs. Voldemort

I have a headcanon that Vernon Dursley intimidated Harry more than Voldemort did, or could ever hope to. Let me explain:

Yes, Voldemort tried to kill Harry on multiple occasions, and even succeeded once. He tortured Harry a few occasions, and possessed him. Voldemort killed many of Harry’s friends and family. He was the most powerful Dark Lord of the age. Pretty fucking terrifying. Intimidating, right? However, despite this, Harry was always able to stand up to Voldemort, openly oppose his rule and views, call him out when he was wrong, taunt him to his face (straight up called him Tom), walk right into the Ministry of Magic while it was under Voldemort’s control and tell off Umbridge in the process. Harry has always been brave, proud, loud, and loyal to his cause above all else when facing Voldemort.

But...Vernon Dursley?

Here’s where we get a little outside point of view.

Vernon Dursley was absolutely horrible to Harry. He was the primary reason for Harry’s abuse, because he “would not have any of that nonsense in our house, Petunia, we agreed—”, and he was as normal and boring as a muggle could be. He was not jealous like Petunia was. He was not raised to think magicals as freaks like Dudley was. He was simply a horrible human being that saw something he didn’t like and tried to smother it.

Putting a child, a child, who could not possibly know any better, into a dirty cupboard away from sight? Their nephew? My guess is that it wasn’t Petunia’s idea, no matter how terrible she was herself. Starving that child, repeatedly, until he became malnourished and his growth stunted to keep him short and thin? J.K.R. also mentioned that she was going to add physical abuse, but kept it out as it would’ve been too graphic for the book’s theme. What kind of fucked up shit did they do to Harry that it had to be censored and edited out? It is a miracle this kid didn’t become an obscurial.

Harry’s reactions to Vernon give us a lot of headway on his thoughts about all this as well. When faced with an angry Vernon, Harry ducks his head and flees. He mutters under his breath, but rarely ever says the insults to Vernon’s face (though when he’s particularly angry, he gives us some real gems of sarcasm, my lovely son). Harry straight up flinches several times in the scenes we get with him and the Dursleys when Vernon yells at him. At the Dursleys’, Harry is not the perfect Gryffindor Golden Boy he is at Hogwarts. His inner Slytherin cunning tends to come out more often than not at the Dursleys. He lies and dodges and manipulates his way through his summers, and I have no doubt that it was even more frequent before Hogwarts, but with less efficient results.

But why should any of that matter, right? It’s Harry Potter! The Saviour! The Chosen One! The Boy Who Lived! Why should a couple stupid, angry muggles affect him when he’s faced so much worse?

But he was never any of that at the Dursleys, was he? He was just Boy, and Freak, and Ungrateful Brat, and A Waste of Space.

Well, for one, let’s go back to Voldemort. Voldemort did not have direct access to Harry for most of the series. Voldemort could not take away his freedom. Voldemort could not withhold or deny him food or water. Voldemort could not physically attack Harry within the safety of Hogwarts, and, even if he did, Harry wouldn’t be left to suffer in silence afterwards, as he would always go to Madame Pomfery. And, most importantly, as a Dark wizard whose entire goal was to eliminate/ostracize muggles from the magical world—Magic Is Might—why would he condemn Harry for his magic, the one thing that comes naturally to him, that acts as his saving grace, that keeps him afloat in difficult times, that Voldemort himself understands so closely? Harry could be tried for many sleights against Voldemort, but merely using magic, being himself, is not one of them.

Secondly, Harry grew up in an undeniably abusive household. He was with the Dursleys from the time he was one year old. Children are very impressionable, especially so young, so when this large, fat, loud, purple-faced man shoved Harry in his cupboard, denied him food, forced him to do housework, and (most likely) beat him for doing anything out of the ordinary, it formed a deep psychological connection in his brain: this human equals pain. As a primal instinct, the natural response to pain is fear. I have very little doubt that Harry Potter was afraid of Vernon Dursley on a very base, primal level, that only continued to worsen as he grew, even if he got better at hiding it.

But then Hogwarts came along. A large man, larger than his uncle, had stomped up to Vernon and basically wiped the verbal floor with him. Then he took Harry away from the Dursleys, away from his uncle, and into a magical place where, sure, he was expected to save the world, but he’d done it once before, hadn’t he? How hard could it be?

Unlike Harry’s first impression of Vernon, Harry’s first impression of Voldemort was that of a madman who went after a baby that he saw as a threat to his reign (and what kind of villian sees a baby as a threat) and somehow managed to kill himself while trying to kill said baby. Not very intimidating. Further on, Harry meets Voldemort for the first time. As a skivving, eternally weak parasite, needing to feed off others to survive, stuck on the back of his follower’s head. It’s more comical than scary, really. From then on out, I don’t truly think that Harry was ever really, deeply afraid of Voldemort. After seeing what Voldemort had been, no matter what he would become, Harry would always have that image of a weak, power-blinded man in the back of his mind.

At fourteen, Harry stood in a cemetery, the body of a friend at his feet, and faced off Voldemort when he knew he wasn’t strong enough to take him, when he knew that he was most likely going to die but dammit he was going to die fighting!

At fourteen, he lets a man with much less power, much less prestige, and much more human looking features that aren’t really scary at all, lock him in a room and shove meals at him through a catflap.

Do you see the problem here?

My bottom line, my point, is that if you were to take Harry and put him in a room with Vernon Dursley, he would immediately turn tail and get as far away from him as possible. If you put Harry in a room with Voldemort, he would stand his ground and fight and scream and duel until his last breath.

And if that doesn’t say something about how fucked up Vernon Dursley is, then I’ll eat my fucking hat.