#so yes when i see fans just echo the belief he’s been told all his childhood? infuriating

[autism-alley]

augh found my old post abt pjo and disability from before the show came out but it was on ye olde blog so i’m literally just gonna copy and paste, 3, 2, 1—

ok now that i’ve got it on the brain, i want to talk about disability in pjo and specifically how calling percy jackson dumb or treating him as such is not only a mischaracterization, but ableism. as a quick note, i’m keeping this to just percy to avoid having this already long post be even longer, but there are other disabled characters in pjo worthy of discussion, though i hit many of the same points in this post. i bring up percy specifically because he is mostly the character i have seen people treat as stupid.

percy is a dyslexic teen with ADHD who comes from a low-income family, raised by a single mother, and deals with an abusive step-father. i cannot stress enough how much of his character is shaped by that experience, but as hard as it is to single out any one part, i am going to focus on his ADHD and dyslexia. this kid has nightmares of being forced to take tests in a straightjacket as teachers ask him if he’s stupid and withhold him from recess with his peers. he is constantly labelled as “troubled” and blamed for things he didn’t do or aren’t his fault. he is told, over and over again, even from trusted adults, that he is “not normal” (othering him). he bounces between schools. he struggles to make friends. he deals with bullying. he has difficulty studying and reading, even when invested. teachers struggle to connect with him and tend to just give up on him. these are real disabled experiences, and rick does a good job at presenting them in the pjo books. sometimes, it feels like everything is a struggle. you are living inside a system that not only is restricting, but actively works against and punishes you.

in contrast, CHB is a great example of how when environments meet the needs of disabled people, it hugely changes how disabled we are in that environment. demigod brains are hard-wired for ancient greek, not english, and they’re born impulsive, with high energy levels that help them survive battle—but aren’t very good for a classroom setting. but by having them read books in ancient greek, regularly do lots of training/physical activities, and have genuine opportunities to express themselves...they function pretty damn well. percy discovers that while he struggles academically, he is brilliant in combat and capable of saving the world numerous times—he is a hero. do you know how important that message is for disabled children? disabled adults, too? that we can be heroes?

it is here, in camp half-blood, that percy finds a place he belongs, that shows him his worth—finally, somewhere is built to not only include him, but to nurture and genuinely prepare him for the world outside its boarders. however, i think people forget that just because percy functions in the world of CHB and the gods, that does not mean he doesn’t face ableism in the mortal world—and that there is an entire group of people who see ourselves reflected in his character.

i could talk on for hours about how much being disabled shapes percy’s identity and how he interacts with the world—like how percy’s humor revolves around coping with his environment and actually displays a very low self esteem after being looked down upon his entire life. this kid doesn’t even have to say anything and he screams i had a neurodivergent childhood. but about 5-6 years ago, when i was more regularly tuned into the fandom, every time i saw someone call percy jackson dumb or an idiot, even jokingly, i raised an eyebrow, and now that the series is getting fresh coverage from disney+, i have wanted to make this post. so much of this kid’s life and personality comes from being treated like he’s dumb or incapable, so it’s troubling to watch part of the fanbase reflect the harmful parts of this character’s upbringing. i truly hope it does not become common again. it’s also one thing coming from a neurodivergent/disabled person with similar experiences (and even then i personally find it a little uncomfortable), it’s another to be said by a neurotypical/able bodied person.

percy jackson’s experiences make for very important representation, and for people to characterize him as just a goofy, unintelligent guy is not only an insult to his character as a kid who is intelligent, but previously lacked the environment to show it, but also ableist. so in the dawn of the new tv series era, i ask that we cut that shit out. rick riordan did not create rep for neurodivergent and disabled kids for them to be called stupid by the fanbase. even jokingly.

[brodependent]

Sam loves Dean as much as Dean loves Sam: a meta

Much as I love reading good meta, I don’t often write meta. Thus please accept my apologies if this is mediocre, and let me start with a simple topic sentence:

Sam loves Dean as much as Dean loves Sam.

A little longer, now: Sam is even better at loving Dean than Dean is at loving Sam because of Dean’s profound and abiding love for Sam.

Confusing, right? But not really.

We all know how Dean lives and breathes SammySammySammywatchoutforSammy. It’s his defining mission, his ultimate purpose, or, as a therapist might say, his “core belief.” But sometimes I think that we allow adult!Dean too little autonomy. We assume that he can’t help himself: he’s locked into this single-minded focus, on loving and protecting the only family he has left.

That sells Dean short. (Hang in there, I promise I’ll get to Sam in a moment.)

Even people who have been forced into a certain way of life have choices. Even people who have been told who they are all their life have choices. Dean tells us, in Season 14, I’m good with who I am--and I, for one, believe him. Whether we follow canon all the way to 15x17, when Dean is finally brought back from the edge of his desire for revenge against Chuck by his love for Sam (the only thing that’s “real”), or whether we keep to season 1 when Dean said--that’s all we have...that’s all I have... and I want us to be a family again and as long as I’m around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you--Dean has always accepted his role as Sam’s big brother. Dean’s life is unabashedly Sam-centric. He’d change a lot of things, but in the end he’d change nothing, because he wouldn’t change that. 

Some fans get very het up about the codependent aspect of this. Others (in my opinion, rightly) defend it. There’s scads of meta on why the Winchester dynamic IS necessary for their mythic role in the narrative, and their human role in the narrative (more importantly), so I won’t write that meta now. All I’m saying is what I think you already know: Dean lives for Sam, his baby brother, and despite the grief, the growing pains, the occasional cruelty of desperate love, Dean said it all when he told Sam (and us), Don’t you ever think that there is anything, past or present that I would put in front of you.

So where does that leave Sam, and his love for Dean? Let’s start with that line I just quoted. Building on the above, Dean’s goal in life is to give Sam a life. He wants Sam to be happy. He wants him to be free. He also wants to keep him by his side forever, to control him for safety and comfort’s sake, and sometimes those instincts of a frightened-child-turned-traumatized-man win out. Dean isn’t perfect. Dean’s full of contradictions. But time and again he goes back to stone number one: what he can do for Sam. What he can offer Sam, by being the grunt, by standing in harm’s way. 

When we begin the story, Sam has succeeded in the path Dean helped carve for him. I’m not taking all the credit from Sam here, and giving it Dean: merely pointing out that Dean stepped into traditional parental roles and helped send Sam into adulthood, even though that meant Sam leaving him. We know that the night Sam left for Stanford was one of the worst of Dean’s life, but even in mid-season 1, Dean tells Sam he’s proud of him. You always know what you want. You stand up to Dad. Hell, sometimes I wish I--

(this, of course, is beautifully echoed in the series finale itself)

Dean is telling Sam what so many parents tell their children: you have gone places I never could, accomplished goals I never could, grown in grace and understanding like I never could. At least, I like to think that’s what the best parents tell their children.

To Dean, Sam is always the one with more hope. More wholeness. More options. To Sam, Dean is stone number one. 

You asked how Sam loves Dean, and my answer is: just look. Look at how Sam goes out into the world young, stands up to their father, makes his own decisions, fights back against Dean’s own nihilistic narrative through their primary losses and setbacks. Dean gave Sam the safety to build a better worldview than Dean himself has, and Sam turns that right back around and tries to give it to Dean. 

What do you think my job is? You’re my big brother--there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. 

I can’t lose you.

You’re not a grunt, Dean, you’re a genius.

This is my life. I love it. But I can’t do it without my brother. I don’t want to do it without my brother.

I am going to save my brother. And then I’m going to kill you dead.

If you ever need to talk about anything with anybody, you got somebody right here next to you.

I believe in us.

This is just a small collection of Sam quotes showing his love for Dean. A small collection showing the persistent theme of Sam’s persistence. He knows that pushing chick-flick moments and emotional conversations can get jokes for a dime a dozen, and even the occasional punch thrown his way. He keeps at it anyway. When Sam knows Dean’s hurting, he wants to help. He’d do anything to help. He won’t sit around and see his brother turn into an embittered killer (season 2), go to hell for saving his life (season 3), take on the Trials (season 8), be irrevocably corrupted by the Mark of Cain (seasons 9-10), let him despair (seasons 11 and 13), let him sacrifice himself to an archangel’s grave (season 14), or let him lose his goodness to the whims of a vicious god (season 15). Sam fights for Dean with full use of his considerable gifts--intelligence, rationality, resourcefulness, and yes, the occasional blind rage. Sam looks to Dean, first as a leader, then as a judge, and finally as an equal. Sam has been looking up to Dean since he was four, yes, but over the course of the show he comes to look at Dean. With love, peace, understanding, humor, pain...whatever their inimitable connection requires.

The quotes I noted above also reveal Sam’s own conflicts rear up. Sam and Dean (again, in my opinion) are equally developed characters. Both have flaws and inconsistencies. Both have struggles inherent to their personalities and upbringings, distinct from those imposed on them by supernatural forces. 

Sam had a glimpse of a different life, once. He had the smarts, he had the drive, he had the sheer stubbornness to live a different life than John or Azazel or hell, even Lucifer had planned for him. But also in Sam--innate in Sam--is his core of goodness and compassion and the principle of doing right, which leads him back into the life and to soul-crushing sacrifice again and again.

Sam breaks and is broken. Sam suffers and ages and spends more time in hell than even Dean, who went to protect him.

But what keeps Sam going? Dean. Dean can’t live without Sam. We know that. The flip side is that Sam doesn’t want to live without Dean. Importantly, I think, he has more choice in the matter. Dean focused his whole childhood identity on giving Sam a life that meant he had choices, even if Dean didn’t know he was doing that. Sam can move through more crowds, more roles, more relationships. He has a better education, he has a more powerful ability to intellectually reason and detach. He would have made a great lawyer. Yet he casts all this aside out of sheer willpower, choosing instead to love Dean and live with Dean through the chaos of their lives, and to go near mad when Dean is gone. Consider Sam in season 4, Sam in season 10...Sam in season 8 trying to atone for the very choice that Dean (the best part of Dean) wanted him to make, even if the real muddle of Dean’s psyche couldn’t forgive him, for a time, for making it.

All of this leads us to the finale. 

You said you wish Sam had said I love you back to Dean in the finale. I argue that he did. He made his love perfectly clear to Dean in that moment by holding his hand, by looking in his eyes. He said, you can go now, when all he wanted was for Dean to stay. 

The best part of Dean wanted Sam to have happiness and freedom. At the end of his life, Dean was finally able to communicate that without fear or reservation. 

But the bittersweet brilliance of that moment is that Sam--the Stanford boy who went to hell and back, who saved the world, brought down one god and raised another--no longer wanted any kind of happiness or freedom that didn’t include the one person who’d been by his side all along. Dean was giving his blessing for a path that didn’t beckon Sam anymore. And yet: Sam said yes to it out of the love for Dean. Sam went out of that barn, out of the bunker, out of that day and that year and that decade and into the next and the next, out of love for Dean. Sam loved Dean by living. He loved Dean by raising another Winchester. He loved Dean by holding all their contradictions, flaws, and heroisms in his heart (in their car), until he’d done what he set out to do many times over. 

Then he met Dean on a mended bridge, dressed in old clothes that said: I was happiest at the beginning. I was happiest when we could be brothers again. I took my time getting here anyway, because I know that was what you wanted. I took my time so that we could be happiest now.

If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.

[itstimetotheorize]

The bizarre mystery of the Little Nightmares 2  episode 2 comic

For those of you who are unaware, a few weeks before the little nightmares 2 game was released, the developers had announced that they would be releasing a new 6 part digital comic series. From what we were told, this comic series would update two “episodes”  every two weeks until the games eventual release.

of the many episodes that were seen, the most popular of the six  were the first and last, episode 1 and 6. Naturally, these two episodes gained an enormous amount of popularity due to our main protagonists mono and six being the main focus. However, aside from these two episodes, the other four presented an entirely different character. The four kids seen in these episodes were, the spoon girl, lollipop kid, ghost child and The toddler. 

At first, many fans had assumed the digital comics were created in order to help explain events that had occurred before mono met six in the little nightmares 2 game, in other words, many of us had believed that these comics were classified as prequel material for the events of the game....or at least....that's what we thought....

A few months after the games release, theorist such as myself began to work day and night trying to figure out every little detail  within the game in order to make sense of what the heck was actually going on in the little nightmares world, especially after “that” ending. In the midst of writing my own theories as well as reading and analyzing everyone elses, I began to notice that not many people had gone back to the little nightmares 2 digital comics in order to try and analyze details we might have missed.

Now, out of all of the things we saw and analyzed within the digital comics, there was always two little details that made many of us question the events of the comics, but for the longest time we never really bothered to think about it to much, because at that time...it seemed as though the answer was obvious, what am I talking about exactly? well, I’m talking about something that happened in the little nightmares 2 episode 2 comic. 

In episode 2, we once again watch another new child called “the toddler”  trying to survive within the little nightmares world. Near the end of the episode, the toddler wakes up from a horrific dream where he is killed in the very hole he is resting in. Frightened, he takes no chances and immediately leaves. As the boy marches on, he suddenly hears the terrifying screams of another child nearby. 

Curious, the boy follows the direction of the scream and comes across an old outhouse with a tv next to it, the tv suddenly turns on and the boy immediately becomes entranced by the televisions light.  Sadly, as he continues to stare at the tv, the thin man reaches out from the other side and all that is heard of the child are his frightened screams. 

As the panel draws away from the tv its revealed to us that the thin man had kidnaped the toddler and dragged him into the television.

When first seeing this episode, many believed it was the developers way of telling us that the thin man had spent much of his time kidnapping various kids around the world. Because of this belief, many of us had theorized that despite being locked up in the tower, within the pale city, the thin man was still fully capable of leaving, after all, we theorized that its was his main goal to search for mono and six. HOWEVER, upon reading episode 2, I couldn't help but feel that something was off and I’m sure there were a few others who felt the same. What exactly felt so off about this episode? well, for starters, this may sound strange but...something about that scream the toddler heard in the forest... didn't make sense.

And I know what you are thinking, “ well that was obviously just a kid screaming in horror as he/she was being taken by the thin man”, yes, I understand that.... but......as  I heard that scream over and over again, I couldn't help but feel it sounded like it was almost....”non human”

when the toddler was kidnapped by the thin man and he lets out his own screams of terror, I, as well as other, did not question it, because it genuinely did sound like a child screaming out in horror....so then... why didn't the other scream sound just the same to us?....unless....what if there was something else going on with that other child?...but what? the comics were short and did not present much information to the audience. In hopes of coming up with a breakthrough I decided to once again go back to the little nightmares 2 game and wait to see if some of the events within the game would help.

 As I watched the tower chapter of the game, for what feels like an infinite amount of times, I began to realize something....something so horrific that it could possibly once again topple every theory I had about the little nightmare's world and lead me and many other back to the theory board in order to make sense of EVERYTHING all over again!.... what exactly was so shocking? well.....the screams heard by the toddler in chapter 2....the very screams we believed at the time were just the cries of another terrified child within the little nightmares world....were NEVER the screams of someone we didn’t know!....whos were they exactly?...well.... they were the screams of MONSTER SIX!!!

But what on earth could this possibly mean???!!! Monster six was the final fight within the game, when mono faced her, he had already killed the thin man after being relentlessly chased by him....but if this is true then why was the thin man shown to be alive within episode two of the comics?!....unless.... What if episode two didn't take place before the events of the game...what if...it took place after mono freed the thin man in the game!! 

Perhaps this could explain why the toddler never encountered the hunter in the forest or near the outhouse, the hunter could very well have been already shot by the time the toddler was traveling through!.....but even if this is true, it still doesn't explain why we heard monster sixes scream in the episode or why thin man made an appearance in the forest rather than stay in the pale city were mono was located ...unless... what if something else was going on?

In the game, after the thin man captures six, six is later seen crying out for mono to help her escape the television.

unfortunately, once mono does free her from the tv, the thin man reaches his hand out and kidnaps six once again!

 As many of you may already know... this is the last time we see normal six.  As the thin man once again begins to pursue mono, mono manages to outrun the thin man on the trains by separating the railcars, 

after this moment however, we don't see the thin man again until after mono exits the manhole cover. The thing that doesn't make sense about this whole situation is... why didn't the thin man just reappear in the same area mono crashed the train?

 The thin man clearly has the ability to teleport to different parts of the pale city without the need of the tvs, after all, we even saw him appear in front of mono after he exited the manhole cover near the end of the game.

 So then, why didn't he do the same thing back when mono crashed the train? what was he really doing in that time? and most importantly...where did he go?!...perhaps we were already given an answer to his whereabouts, long before the game was ever released...

What if after realizing he couldn't catch up to mono on the train, the thin man made the decision to search elsewhere. In the midst of his search, did the thin man decide to go back into the television? expecting mono to walk past another screen so he could better find him? just like how he did every other time in the game?

What if the thin man did sense the presence of a child coming near another television...if he did, then what if the child he found on the other end of that television screen.... was never mono...it was the toddler! 

But if this is what happened to thin man during his brief absence, then what exactly happened to six during all of this?....perhaps we were also given an answer to that  as well.

Many of us had theorized that after thin man captured six, six had begun to feel the effects of the towers hypnotic  transmission as she was dragged through the television screen. After she was taken by thin man a second time and thrown back into the towers hypnotic light, the tower could have very well begun the process of turning her into monster six! and judging by how twisted her limbs are near the end of the game, its possible that the process of being distorted caused six to scream out in horrible pain! in the midst of her transformation, her screams could have echoed throughout the tower (just like her music box did ) and was heard by all those that were near a television, including the toddler!

Mono may not have heard her painful screams because he was already to far away from any tv at the time. The only thing he did find of six, after she became lost in the towers transmission during her time in the tower, was the one piece of her that was still desperately trying to cling onto the cruel reality it was fading from, shadow six!

Regardless of what is actually going on, this does beg the question, if episode 2 of the little nightmares 2 digital comics were to really take place in the middle of monos confrontation with the thin man and not before the events of the game, then what about the rest of the episodes of the comics? do they really all take place before the events of the game or is the timeline of the comics just as scattered as our speculations towards how the loop of the game and the little nightmares world is occurring?...honestly....whos to say....until we get some more information towards the lore of this world, everything’s still just a theory, a little nightmares 2 theory!

[deadprocess]

Hide Away (The Trickster x Male Reader) Part 1

//Had a lot of fun with this so I might just continue! Enjoy!

T.W: mentions of violence, some nsfw content//

Ji-Woon had always known who he was. He knew his place in the world since he was a child juggling knives in that tiny restaurant on the corner street, dazzling foreign spectators. He was to be a star and when he had been signed on with NO SPIN he was even more confident in that belief. Sure, he had a slight shift in personality when he heard the shrill screams of his burning band members but Ji-Woon considered it artistic creativity that he just hadn't had the opportunity to explore before. He always loved horror films. It was only natural to be inspired by the macabre, right?

As he became in demand as a solo artist, producers wanted more from him. His performances were to become abstract. Music videos needed to be bold; powerful. His sales demanded it. Ji-Woon understood that he needed a team to produce his filmography and music production, he did. But when Yun-Jin broke the news that he would have dancers involved with his performances from his second album on, he wasn't pleased.

"I'm a solo artist. Eyes should be focused on me." His hand white knuckled the glass of tequila moon rock as he sat across from Yun-Jin. So, that's why she brought him to this restaurant. So he couldn't cause a scene. Every one of his moves was monitored by the paparazzi after all. He could just envision "Popstar throws a tantrum in Seoul's high class eatery" as a headline on the news.

"Yes and they will be. No one goes to concerts to look at the dancers. They just add...spice and uniqueness to a performance, " Yun-Jin held up a hand as she reached over to lower the star's drink, "slow down. Don't think I haven't noticed the extra drinks here and there."

Ji-Woon huffed and flicked her hand off his drink, leaning further back into the plush seat. He was getting a headache.

xx

It was his next performance that he questioned himself for the first time in his life.

Adjusting the rose colored star glasses on his face, he smirked. Tonight was going to be wonderful. He had the perfect instrument three weeks ago. Her voice was smooth as she screamed, creating a wonderful background vibrato for the brand new song he would preform tonight. He could hear the fans cheering and begging for him as he was (purposely) ten minutes late to the his performance. He enjoyed being sadistic after all.

Spinning on his heel to finally head out he became lost in thought, fantasizing about maybe pulling a fan from the crowd to have a "special" night with him. As he was wandering forward in a dream like state, Ji-Woon hit reality when he clipped a solid body with his shoulder. His lips curled up to sneer out an insult to whoever had the audacity to not move out of his way but every word was lost as he took in the man before him. The skin tight, high neck black top hugged your torso in such a delicious way and the black joggers managed to show off just enough curvature of your legs that Ji-Woon's insult died within in his throat.

You were quick to apologize but all the star could do was weakly nod before retreating past you to the stage, wide eyed and suddenly very flustered.

The lights were disorienting as he voice rang out, echoing into the stadium as fans screamed. His hand trembled slightly around his microphone, missing a few unnoticeable beats. He was distracted; he could see his dancers from the corner of his eyes. He could see you. How your muscles flexed with every move, how you seemed so into the music. So into his music.

The music hit a beat and the way your hand traveled down your throat...god, he never wanted anything more.

xx

Growing up Ji-Woon never held much interest in anyone other than himself. A passing girlfriend here and there. He enjoyed women, he did. The softness and the more delicate curves of their bodies, how their hair flowed in wind and how cute their sun dresses were. They were desirable so he didn't delve deeper into the feelings that bloomed when he would look at posters of his past male idols. He told himself that they were simply inspiration for his goals.

Now he was here. Alone in his penthouse flat and splayed out on his oversized bed with his hand gripping his cock feverishly pumping as he moaned your name and he had a faint thought in the back of his mind that maybe...just maybe...he should reevaluate those past feelings.

Laying there with you in his mind and a part of him in his hand just wasn't enough, but the private conversation he held with Yun-Jin made him ache in a way that scared him deeply.

"You know I support you and this doesn't change anything, but you need to be careful," Yun-Jin held his hand with a sincerity to the touch, "the idea of attainability is also what we sell. If you're seen sneaking off anyone...let alone a man...I just don't see this ending well."

It stung but it was true. However...

Ji-Woon's eyes stared stared forward as he walked from the stage, focused on one thing with the distant sounds of fame behind him. You were one of the last few dancers to get off the stage, heading to your designated group dressing room alone. You were almost inside when you felt him. Thin hands sliding up your back to your shoulders, the touch so light that it immediately sent a tingle as they traveled upwards. You turned to face the pop-star, surprised, about to ask what he was doing before your body was pushed to the wall.

"Just,"  the Korean's face inched towards yours. Hands now firmly pressing against your pecs, kneading the soft flesh exposed by the open button up you wore, "just let me have this."

And you let him. Sparks of lust fogged over any hesitation as you hooked an arm just around the curve of the celebrity's ass and cupped the other hand around the back of his head.

The yearning kiss and soft moans were hidden away from the spotlight and prying eyes in that dark hallway.

[xavadak3davrax]

Loving Fred // Fred Weasley

Fred Weasley x Slytherin Fem Reader 

Warings: Mentions of war, death, loss, anxiety, depression (maybe? I think it might be that), there’s fluff, and I think angst but that depends on how you look at it. 

summary: Loving Fred is easy... or is it always like that? 

a/n: First of all Fred survives because that’s how it should have been all along and the only ending imma be happy with :) this is like a small story on y/n and Fred loving each other during different times? 

Imagine the most beautiful field, full of blooming flowers and imagine those pictures of people running thru it, and they look happy and the world is bright and sunny. That’s what it feels like to love Fred.

y/n thinks about it everytime. How lucky she is to feel this way about him, to be the lucky one he loves and she… well she loves him the most. When they attended Hogwarts, it was the most magical time.

She remembers having a hard time adjusting when she was first sorted into Slytherin. Her parents had been Hufflepuffs their whole lives so it was surprising to say the least that she had been sorted into the greens. It took everyone in her family a while to get use to it, but never did they push her way like she had initially thought. But still, feeling so out of her space she isolated herself from the world. The only friends she had, none belong in her house. It was hard, specially at night when she had to separate from them and go into the dormitory and hear all the other girls be social.

It was on one of the days she had so much work to do, but ten library didn’t seem like the right place for her that she headed down to the lake. she was alone, for a long while and she got so much work done. Until crunching sounds of leaves and a laugh took her out of her moment. She looked over her shoulder to see the twins, Fred and George coming down to the lake, both alone. They were still far but from what she heard when she took up on their conversation they were planning another prank.

Of course y/n knew who they were.  They were always in trouble from what she could always see. If they spend sometime, quiet, and by that it means no pranks, it was because they were doing detention, but took that time to prepare their next big one. They made her life a little brighter. A lot brighter. They made her laugh and they didn’t even know.

That was about it. For a long while, it was all y/n did, look at them from afar. Look at him from afar. Tall, lanky, ginger head boy, with the most contagious smile she had ever seen. Caring, loving and genuine, it was impossible not to feel a lot of thigs when you looked at him. The way he sat at meals, they way he looked distracted in class but somehow listened to everything and was thing incredible intelligent man. How he always tend to dress like his twin but different colors. How their pranks were always incredibly funny.

After a while y/n started to have more than a crush. It happens you know? Sometimes you don’t need to speak to the person to start loving them. You just need to pay attention, and your heart does the work for you. The person doesn’t even have to know you exist, or notice your presence. Your body, your mind does that for you and y/n… well she was a victim of those things.

And when does things started her actions changed right in front of her eyes but it took her so long to realize. How after classes she took a little longer to organize her things just so she could look at him a little while, usually chatting with his twin and Angelina and some other friends. Or how she came earlier to every meal because they were usually already there, taking that small amount of time to work on their pranks. Or how all of a sudden quidditch became her favorite sport and she found herself attending every practice of Gryffindor. She should have known then. How suspicious that was. But she didn’t. But it does become a little you know? When you belong to one house and attend every quidditch practice even if your house isn’t the one practicing.

He started to notice then. Contrary to popular belief, Fred was a very attentive man. Sometimes he might seem to into his world of pranks and laughing, but he takes his sweet time noticing small changes around him. He didn’t notice, at first, the time she spend after class or how early she came to meals. It first started when after a few quidditch practices, he notice she was there, her Slytherin scarf hanging around her shoulders. At first it only seemed she was a fan of the sport and liked to watch, but then everytime Fred looked she looked away and when he took a little more time to watch, he saw how she would fling under his look, how her hands would come together and her fingers would move, like she was nervous. How she would lower her head and he thinks a smile would appear on her face.

So, that made him look more at her. Fred knew her. He doesn’t think she knows but everyone knows her honestly. Her parents were quite known in the wizarding world and his father knew her mother from work and remember his father mentioning her… situation. So he knew her. He hadn’t taken the time to study her tho. But now, that she all of sudden seemed to be every where he was, he couldn’t help himself. Sometimes he thinks he even found himself looking for her too when she wasn’t around.

That’s how one day, when George was on a date with Angelina and he was left on his own, with projects for their next prank that faith might have happen. The great hall was very empty, only a hand full of students here and there, and he found it the perfect place to work on his things. He was sitting down, after putting his things down when his eyes went unconsciously to the slytherin table. And there she was, head rested on her hand and her eyes narrowed like whatever she was reading was making her head hurt and confused. It had to be now. They had been watching each other from afar for so long now, that someday one of them at to at least try.

So, Fred, picked up his things and went to her table. She only looked at him when he was close to where she sat. The sound of his steps echoing in the quiet great hall.

“Seems like you were in need of help.” Fred notice her relaxed posture took one of a more rigid one, she clenched the pen in her grasp, tighter. Words caught in her throat.

She wanted to ask how, but couldn’t make that many words.

“Yes.”

“Great, ,let’s see, potions right? Oh I’ve done that already, I can help you.” Fred said happily, while sitting next to her, the projects for his next prank with George were completely forgotten.

--

Loving Fred was like being able to watch your favorite thing in the whole wide world, again, and again, and again, and have it with you always. Loving Fred was being able to be free, to be yourself, your silly care free self, and your serious self when needed.

Loving Fred was special. It was always wanting to do the smallest most sweetest gestures for him. And him for her.

How y/n started to realize that since Fred was always busy with his pranks and doing his homework very late at night and sometimes, the day before it was due, that she should make something for him. It could be a lunch by the lake, being with him in silence if he was working or being there for all his practices. And Fred took y/n out every chance he got, any money he got he started to spend it on her, on small things he knew would make her heart full of love. And he made sure he was never to busy for her.

He loved that women with all his heart. Talking to her that day was his best decision and he doesn’t regret it one second.

Certainly not when he looks at the way she interacts with his family. All of them. How she loved his mother and father like they were her own parents. How she had things in common with all his siblings so she could take up any conversation with them, at anytime. He also knew she was the one when they would ask when she was gonna be around again.

She knew he was the one when her parents would make his favorite food every time a new school year started, or when she was going back from their short time at home. How they would wake up early in that same day to make it, so he could ‘eat it fresh’ they would say. Or how when it was Fred’s turn to spend sometime with her, they would always do small things around the house for him, and Fred would the thankful everytime. Or when the day they decided to put their families together for the first ever (even thought they knew each other) and it was like it hadn’t been the first time at all.

They knew the world was on their side.

--

Loving Fred sometimes wasn’t as easy when big decisions came into play. When they had decided that they wanted to leave and start their own business y/n was heart broken. Use to spend her day with the man she loved, being far from him was… it was a lot.

Although Fred and George had that idea in their head for a while, it took a bit for Fred to bring it up to y/n. None of the moments felt right. Since every moment they had together was full of love and happiness and goofiness, Fred could never have the courage to talk about a topic like that.

When he did bring up the topic he made sure he had planned a calm day for them. He told George that day to not count on him for anything, he would be with y/n all day. After class he brought her down to the lake. They were just there, laying next to each other, holding hands and taking in the moment. It took Fred everything in him to talk about it.

“Hey, love?” He almost whispered, if had any courage before it was all gone now. Nowhere to be seen, he could feel his hands start to sweat.

“Tell me baby.” y/n turned her body a little to face him and her other free hand came to rest at the top of his chest, caressing it.

“I need to talk to you about something.” Fred said firmly, trying to bring his thoughts together. y/n started to worry in that moment.

“Everything ok?”

“I- it’s hard. And please know that I still want to be with you. If you still want to be with me after this…”

“Fred, please just tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m leaving Hogwarts with George. Before the year ends.”

Silence fell between them, and it almost seemed like the sound of the lake and the birds and the leaves had stopped. The only sounds heard was their hearts beating very loudly and quickly.

“Fred, what- why?” She had sat up now, letting go of his hand.

“Umbridge, and the stupid fucking punishments.” He looked at his hand to see the most fresh mark. He remember the day he got it and how y/n left everything she was doing with his sister to come and take care of him. Making sure that healed the best way possible. She even stayed with him that night in his dorm. She said anything could happen and she wanted to be there. Fred knows they just needed each other’s comfort that day. “And starting the joke shop as been a dream of ours and continuing here just isn’t the same anymore.”

He sat up slowly next to her and one arm came to rest on her back and give gentle, soothing caresses. She didn’t flinch away from it, and that was a good sign for Fred. She just couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Images of her first year at Hogwarts filling her mind, the loneliness, the sadness, everything coming back to her. She didn’t want to be selfish, she wanted to be proud of him, of how much he had accomplished and wanted to accomplish and how much passion he showed in everything he did. And how no matter what, he had always supported her dreams to.

But since being with Fred, for almost three years now, she didn’t know what those bad, dark feelings were, and having them come back was… bad. In a short spam of time everything came hitting her like that. How maybe she would not be enough anymore after Fred left. Maybe he was gonna find someone out there who would be perfect for him, and who he would love more. Tears were feeling her eyes.

“Love tell me, what is going on in that head of yours.” He murmured, his head coming close to hers and he rested against it, his lips leaving a sweet and gentle kiss on it.

“And us?” She spoke so lowly and he had difficulty hearing her.

“Us? y/n, listen to me, if you still want me even after this decision, I’m yours. You know that love.”

She should feel some time of relieve hearing that, but her mind was coming up with the most stupid scenarios and she couldn’t help but feel insecure.

“You can find someone better out there Fred.” She stated, her fingers almost crushing each other with the force she was closing them against her palms.

Fred could feel his heart break. Never, ever did he want her to think of that, and like that. He didn’t think this conversation would spark something like this. He would expect her to scream at him, get up and leave and maybe that would it for them. Never did he think she would still be here, crying because she was scared he was gonna love someone else. He could never.

“I will never be able to love anyone else like I love you.” He said, so true to himself and to what he felt that y/n could feel it radiate from him. “You are the person I love the most in this life y/n. You are everything I want and need. You have loved me thru my worst, and thru my best and never did you turn your back against me even when I disappeared.” He was talking about the time his father got hurt, and he had orders not to speak of it at the time, and had also left without any warning. y/n came to find out from Hermione, who had been nothing but kind and welcoming to her since the begging and who she spend much time with before that, and after that.

“And I will love thru this new journey Fred.” She looked at him and her shaking hands came to take both of his in her grasp. “I love you. And I’m sorry for how I’m reacting, but I just… we’ve been together everyday for so long that it feels scary to be left alone like this. Without you. But I know you will be pursuing your dream. And I cannot ask for anything more in this life than your happiness.”

“I will be there when you leave Hogwarts, and I will be there waiting for you, and to see you. And to support you on every dream you have.” He had a smile on his face, tears also on his face, because he felt so loved by her. He kissed her. “You will never be alone, Ginny and Hermione and Harry and Ron, they will all be here love. And I will write to you everyday until we see each other again.” She laughed at that.

“You’ll have more important things to worry about than me Fred.”

“Do not say those words again. I will never be to busy or have anything more important than you. I love you.” She kissed him this time.

It would be an uncertain time, but then again when wasn’t it? The dark was roaming closer, and closer and they could only rely on each other and their love to get thru the hard times ahead. But in that moment, with her heart a little less heavier and her mind a little more calm she knew that with Fred by her side, close or far she would be okay. She just needed him to be okay.

--

The period in which Fred and George’s business was blooming was short lived. After y/n left Hogwarts she could spend more time with Fred and even helped around the store a lot. George would joke all the time they should just hire her.

War hit after a while. At the end of his older brother wedding hit and Harry, Ron and Hermione had left, the air around them became heavy. Fear was everywhere. y/n fought against Mrs. Weasley some of the death eaters, until all it was left of the scene was destruction everywhere.

That day, when she laid next to Fred on his bed, in his room that he shared with his twin, she cried silently against his chest. Pulling him as closely as she could, like he could vanish at any second.

“It’s going to be okay love.” Fred had whispered, his arm around her body, the heat radiating from both of them. George was still downstairs, with his family. She couldn’t answer, only cry. Even Fred didn’t know if things were in fact going to be ok. For once in his life he was uncertain of the future. He hadn’t been, when he left school in his last year, with his twin to pursue his dream. But now, laying here in the dark of his room, with his lover in his arms, he couldn’t help but wonder about everything.

He had planned so many things, y/n was included in every single one of them. And he wanted to think about those things and expect them to become true. But it was hard, specially after what happened, and now his little brother was out there, danger in every corner he took. Having to look back all the time because no one could be trusted. He feared for his family, how their safety was compromised. He knew they had all signed up for this. But still, he loved them all so much it was impossible not to worry.

He wanted to whisper to her again ‘everything is going to be okay.’ But after a while not even him believed in those words anymore.

--

Now, loving Fred was a challenge. One she wanted to take up any day, everyday. But one none the less.

Of all the Weasley’s, Fred had come the closest to death. He was in fact dead for a moment. That left a sentiment in Fred that no one around him could explain.

The happy, caring and loving Fred had become closed of. He didn’t initiate the conversations anymore, he didn’t even talk pretty much. If he was having a better day he would gesture towards something. His mind always filled with the thoughts of the moment, the darkness that enveloped him so scary that left him nauseous.

y/n remembers being scared that day, when things had calmed down for a bit, she went looking for Fred. They had been separated earlier, and she was thinking she would come to him, relief would take over both of their bodies. Instead she came to him unconscious, coming back from death and his family around him. All her dreams had been shattered that moment. And seeing her happy bright Fred like that, pale and lifeless was the scariest moment she had ever gone thru.

The time after the war was meant to rebuild. Families that had been separated by the dark lord were able to see each other again. Others had been broken beyond repair and the grieving feeling would slowly and forever take over their lives. What was suppose to be a breath of fresh hair, was far from that. Destruction was everywhere you looked, and when you thought you could build it again, it was hard to do.

Everyone knew nothing would be the same. But they would be a new thing. And you could only hope one day that would be good.

But for a while it wasn’t for his family. For her.

She spent every second of everyday next to his bed, she barely remembers eating or sleeping in the period of time she was there. But her mom and Mrs. Weasley tell her that she would, only a little, but she would.

When they left, she knew Fred wasn’t the same. Who would be? Harry wasn’t the same either. In the nights neither could sleep, Ginny would come visit Fred and she and y/n would have the longest deepest talks. They were both suffering in similar ways. Harry had been thru so many things, the trauma he carried was heavy. And ginny was his life support at the moment. Being there for him at any given time. When she wasn’t, was because one of her brothers would make her do something else while they helped him. She had small breaths of relieve.

It was with those conversations y/n was able to prepare for herself for the hard times ahead of her. In that way, although broken herself without the Fred she knew by her side, she was able to help him.

They stayed at the burrow. George wasn’t feeling going back to open the shop so early and specially without the person he needed the most by his side. So staying at the place they most felt comfortable was their best decision.

For the first month Fred was just there. A walking statue. He would look at people when they talked to him or mentioned his name but he wasn’t able to form any words. Sometimes even just sitting there he could feel tears streaming down his face. Helpless. y/n would cleaned them, her soft warm touch against his cheek would bring a little lightness to the darkness in him.

The second month he started to show more progress, he would touch y/n softly everytime she laid next to him, he couldn’t take, but he would show her with small gestures how much he loved her and was grateful for her.

She had stopped crying. Seeing small changes in him, for the better was the best signal that everything was going to be okay, that she could receive.

“I love you Fred. Everything is going to be okay.” She said the same words to him, he had told her when all of this had started to go south. But now as she said those words to him, head resting on his bare chest, his arm around her again and leaving gentle caresses, it felt different. And her fear was starting to disappear.

Fred had spoken to her on a very sunny day. It was the first real sunny day they had in a while. Where no clouds could be seen in the sky, only the sun, shinning very bright. His family had decided for a day out, a little shopping. Fred had stayed because he couldn’t bring himself to leave the house. y/h stayed behind. So many times did she have do assure him he wasn’t holding her back. She wanted nothing more than for him to be okay.

So here she was, in the kitchen, in a little more practical clothes than she usually had because it was just them. His shirt and one of his shorts on. Fred was sitting at the table, eating his food, his mind thinking about her.

And then, it just left him.

“I love you.” y/n almost dropped the things she had in her hand, she had to turn back, her eyes wide. Her mind was racing with thoughts, had she really heard that. Or was she longing for it for so long that she imagining things?

“I love you.” He said again, this time meeting her eyes. She smiled brightly. Dropping carefully everything she had and went to stand next to him, since he was sitting, she hugged him so his head met her belly.

“I love you Fred, so much.” She kissed the top of his head. “Everything is going to be okay.” With tears forming on her eyes, a smile on her face and the sun shinning in the horizon, Fred’s voice echoing in her head, his arms now wrapped around her body, she felt hopeful again.

That small simple phrase had been said in many moments during their time together. And she knew it would be said a lot more in the future. But this was the first time she felt in every fiber of her body, that is was true.

[cherryonigiri]

when and where (oikawa tooru) - part one

Summary: Tooru can’t seem to understand you loneliness, and you can’t understand his desire to sacrifice anything to be by your side again. In which the words ‘opposites attract’ are both your beginning and end. (Inspired by the song/lyrics of Undone by Haley Reinhart)

word count: 1.8k 

“Stars fade away, they just crash into space, disappear from my life, like you and I.” 

“Tooru,” you whisper. The numbers ‘5:00′ glare back at you in red, reminding you of the sleep that continues to evade you, despite feeling utterly exhausted. Your phone is glowing against the pitch black, the blue light acting as a substitute for the moon, which hides behind wispy clouds. “I miss you.” There is an ache that starts in the back of your throat, winding its way down to your chest where it stays, pushing, prodding, pounding against your sternum. Thankfully your voice doesn’t crack, but the tears are still there, trailing down your cheeks. You’ve steeled your resolve, but your heart is still drowning in the loss that is yet to come.

“I know darling,” he laughs. “I miss you too.” Another light-hearted chuckle. You can hear him shuffling through his bag. Seconds later, after the tap of shoes on tile, keys jingle and you hear the thump of the door shutting. It’s almost evening in Brazil (you know because you’ve long since memorized how many hours are between Sendai and Rio). The sun is probably setting on the beach Tooru just returned from, in complete opposition to the flickering stars keeping watch over your sleepless figure. 

That’s how it is between the two of you. Day and night. Tooru was more than happy to revel in his overwhelming brightness - embracing his role as the best setter in the prefecture and his popularity amongst his fans. He always had that smirk, the one that was always plastered on his face that screamed confidence in who he was. 

On the other hand, you clung to your shyness - you’d never liked large crowds to begin with, and you were happy with the small, close-knit, group of friends you’d made. You weren’t closed off, but new things were met with caution. Tentative touches and long gazes to determine whether an unfamiliar addition would disturb the peaceful familiarity you’d woven. 

The words ‘opposites attract’ made you snort, but you couldn’t deny that you’d been drawn to Tooru’s effervescent energy. (A year after you’d started dating Tooru had admitted he’d found a quiet refuge in his relationship with you.) In the beginning, Tooru had coaxed you out of your shell. Never forcefully, and always done with an observant eye. He ignored his team’s teasing, only inviting you to watch them practice after introducing you to each member individually outside of the university gymnasium. He’d rush you home in a heartbeat the minute you looked overwhelmed or uncomfortable. Like two planets, gravity had drawn you together, pushing you closer and closer with every orbit.

Now it’s different. Gravity is chasing after you, bringing your heart catastrophically close to disaster before flinging it into the distance. Your whispered ‘I miss you’ wasn’t an attempt to impart a fleeting bit of affection, or to reassure Tooru that your heart still beat for him every second of the day (which it did). No, it was meant to hide an unspoken plea that was begging him to return, to once again indulge in hour long phone calls late into the evening; to be present. Of course, you weren’t expecting him to pick up on that. After all, you’d dedicated your time alone to perfecting the art of not letting anyone know of your unravelling.

It started slowly—long video chats in the evening became less frequent, replaced by a dwindling number of rushed phone calls on the train to work. Short texts, snuck between sets and during water breaks, became the norm, erasing your habit of sending each other paragraphs about your days. You knew he felt guilty for missing the small snippets of time that he could spend with you. At the core of his being, Tooru is a caring person: he would run himself ragged and work himself to the bone for someone he loved. It was a double-edged sword; working harder and dedicating more time to accelerate his progress so he could return to you faster meant he was inevitably drifting away. 

“Tooru, I can’t do this anymore.” You wince as you throw your plan out of the window, foregoing any kind of verbal cue that would let him know that this was serious. That you were talking about more than having a mundanely horrible day at work.

“Love, what happened today? Was today a bad day? I thought work was going better…” Your boyfriend trails off as you remain silent. 

“This. Us. I think,” you gulp down the sob that threatens to erupt from your throat. “I think we should break up.” You have to force out those two words, break up, because saying them out loud makes it real. Makes this whole conversation real. Grounds it reality, in the realization that this is really happening, that your heartbreak is rushing towards you much faster than you ever wanted. 

You expect him to protest. To at least exclaim loudly and object to the separation. Maybe a part of you wants him to plead, to experience the same hollow loneliness of missing him. To tell you that, yes, I am suffering just as much, and feeling just as broken as you are. Maybe you are desperate, hoping that he’ll convince you that the exuberance he expresses over the phone is one of his carefully constructed facades.

“Can I at least know why?” You catch the slight uptick of his voice, the crack that he tries to hide from you. 

And that’s when your heart truly shatters. 

Because, by asking that question, he reveals that somewhere between his last night in your apartment and today, at five in the morning, the two of you stopped inhabiting the same realm of separation. In a way, Tooru had confirmed what you’d started fearing with every passing day: that he was stronger than you’d ever be. That he could bear the weight of being separated by continents and oceans while you were crumbling. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t endure the pile of missed calls followed by rushed texts of apology. You can’t stand that the only time you can talk to him is on crowded subways where the ever present bustle of other commuters intrudes on your conversations. God, now that you think about it, when was the last time you’d talked to Tooru for more than five minutes? 

“We barely talk anymore Tooru,” you begin, hunching over as both the tears and words begin to flow freely. “I—”

“But you know why y/n!” he responds. He’s pacing, the thumps of his feet echoing through the receiver. He lets out a sigh and you know he’s running his hand through his hair. It’s one of his habits that you have memorized. It’s painful how easy it is for you to imagine Tooru; all his little gestures and mannerisms etched deeply and intimately into your memory. 

“Yes, I know why,” you hiss. “But the fact that you never told me outright? That hurt Tooru.” It still does. It’s his strange blend of selflessness and ambition that has led you here. You thought you’d be sad, that this conversation would leave you with a heavy heart. Instead, a small spark of anger lodges itself in your chest. 

“How was I supposed to?” He retorts. “It’s not like I can ask you to give up your time with me. I’m trying my best to get back to you sooner!” But how can he say that when he’s already left you behind? Instead of extinguishing your anger, he only fans the flames, truly setting you alight. 

“Did you ever think to ask me? Did it ever occur to you that I would rather have waited for longer if that meant you could actually have time for us?” Your rage is dangerous and all-consuming, centering you within the bitterness of the isolation that Tooru had forced upon you.

Silence. And then,

“Y/n…” The way Tooru says your name nearly breaks your resolve. “Please, just wait a little longer. I’ll figure something out, I can train more so I can come back in less than a year. I’m just asking you to be patient.” No, no, no. What he’s offering is worse. You want him to make more space for your relationship, not less. In his quest to hasten his return, he’d turned to a method that consumed the time you occupied in his day. Slowly but surely, the space you’d taken up was sacrificed, leaving you with nothing but those five minutes on the train ride to work.

“That’s not what I want!” You shout. Why is his solution to make things worse? 

“Then what do you want?” He screams back, his thinly veiled irritation blooming into confused anger. “You’re lonely, so I’m trying my fucking best to go back to you as soon as possible. “Why…” he pauses, as if he’ll regret his words, before plowing on, “can’t you just accept that?” 

Suddenly, all the air is knocked out of your lungs with a whoosh. You barely have time to realize you’d stood up in the midst of your argument before you’re sagging against your bed frame, wilting until you’re sitting on the floor. 

You’ve given up, because Tooru’s stubbornness has manifested itself as an irremovable wedge between the two of you. Blinded by his belief that all you desire and yearn for is his physical presence, he can’t even begin to see that all you want is to be given a semblance of space within his life. To have a few hours of his voice, rather than the fleeting promise of reuniting sooner. To accompany him, rather than wait for him at the end of his journey. He is unwilling to bear witness to the different kind of loneliness you suffer; unwilling to peer into the parallel, yet utterly different, dimension of suffering that branches from his own longing for you.

“Tooru…” I’m being selfish, “This isn’t working. Just let us go,” whatever we are now, before it gets worse. You’re not sure if he can hear the shaky inhale of your lungs as you try to steady your voice. 

“I can’t,” he sobs. “Why can’t you see I’m doing this for you?”

Because you can only see me as the finish line, not as someone who runs beside you. Because somehow, you can only worry about the me you see in the future, not the person who is speaking to you now. “I’m sorry,” you say, your voice still wavering despite your best efforts.

‘No, please, y/n—”

One last reassurance. “Thank you for everything.” I love you.

“Y/n wait, please, don’t do this.” His pleas are tearing you apart. “I can take a break, fly back—”

You refuse to be the reason he halts his momentum. “Goodbye, Tooru.” A broken whisper. 

Equal and opposite, two stars crash into each other violently. Flickering in and out, they vie for the chance to exist as they clash against each other, emitting white sparks.

A press of a red button. 

Both of them are gone.

[peachykindalovesyou]

L'erreur Du Fou

Rook Hunt x assassin! fem! reader

Word count:: 2k+

Warnings:: gore, character death, blood mentions, weapon/knife mentions

Author’s note:: god damn am i proud of this

---

     I was the fool who had made the mistake. I was the madman who had thought I could do this. It was an assignment from my boss, I couldn’t decline. Just one more wipeout, and I am in his favor. I was his greatest, one of the best. I honored him; I was a mascot to our team.

     He always said he would leave the best for last, but my victim, my prey, he was one unlike the others. Fast, diligent, flexible, astounding, he was the ideal target for pride. I was all of those things as well, yes, but the way he portrays his ability is simply magnificent. Fast yet delicate strides, quiet graceful gazes, however he did it, I must know as well.

     This was the night I would strike him. Tonight, I will have the power others have dreamed of, I could have the power no one else could have; Something of unimaginable potential. With those abilities, I will be different from the rest, superior, even. This is all I’ve ever wanted and craved, to be the favored by my peers. 

     The corridor was dark, moonlight shown through the glass stained with the seven sins. Chandeliers with stunning crystals decorated the ceiling. The floor was marbled and etched with strokes of grey and blue, with every step I took, it echoed in a symphonic way. The light sound of ballroom music could be heard faintly. 

     Even if this is the night I charge, I still had my doubts. I blocked them out as well as I could, hiding them away in the deepest depths of my thoughts. Everything I seemed to do never worked, it always shot me like a bullet. I must do it; I need to get this job finished. But my heart, my heart desires him. ‘The heart wants what it wants’ is what they always told me; they were all right.

     For my victim, my target, my prey, he drew me in, just as some simple prey like him should. I felt as if he could see right through me, he isn’t supposed to. ‘The Hunter Of Love’ he proclaimed himself, for it seems he was right as well. All of his romantic gestures and enchanting features had me head deep in passion.

     He should be attending the ball soon; I have come here to this corridor to ready myself for what’s to come. Just beyond this hallway, is an astonishing, breathtaking event. The walls and floors painted in gold. The décor was  miraculous, it all seemed unrealistic. The food and beverages prepared for the ball were so aesthetically placed, you wouldn’t dare to take a bite.

     The people who attended were only invited of the utmost honor of the headmaster of Night Raven College, the most prestige and powerful academy of this world. Only the most phenomenal wizards and magicians were ever enrolled. All regions from all over Twisted Wonderland were welcomed to this event; That would mean, The Rose Kingdom, The Coral Sea, The Land Of Pyroxene, Jubilee Port, The Land Of Hot Sands, Afterglow Savanna, Valley Of Thorns, Village Of Harvest, and The Isle Of Lamentation.

    I continued walking, keeping an eye out for the hunter. The music only got louder and louder the further I walked, as expected. Sound of piano and violin could be heard through the door, it was so beautiful. My long dress cascaded down my hips, long black cloth drug across the shiny and clean marbled floor, the sleeves and sheer outer coat were scattered with silver sequins and small diamond studs.

    As the giant door had finally opened, I saw a large amount of people gathered together in the ballroom. I held the invitation in my hands; readying myself for what’s to come. The ghost guards stood in front of the entrance, ordering me to hand in my invitation. I nodded, placing the black and gold envelope in their gas like hands. Stepping in, I had finally spotted him. There he stood, black suit, shiny blonde hair, piercing green eyes, to top it off; his smile was like none of the others, it stood out in the crowd of magicians.

    He glanced in my direction, waving goodbye to the other guests, and walking towards me. I kept my composer, standing straight and giving him a thick silence. “Good evening, Mademoiselle (Y/n). Are you enjoying yourself?” He bowed down, taking my hand, and pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. “I cannot say, for I’ve just arrived.” He gave me a wider smile, standing upright and tilting his head to the side. “That’s a shame, Ma Cherie. Well, the dance is starting soon, would you like to join me?” He held out his gloved hand, waiting for my response. “I would be honored, Monsieur Hunt.” With that, he led me to the middle of the ballroom where the main event began. I waited; it would take me a while to get him where I need him.

    “Ma Cherie, is there a specific reason you’ve decided to join us today? Of course, other than the fact that all students and instructors were invited.” His breath fanned my neck and we swayed in sync. “No, I just thought I’d enjoy myself for once. I’ve been very stressed lately, work outside of school is difficult catching up with.”

    He slid his hand down my waist, pulling me in closer; Just as he always does. “What kind of work do you do? I’m curious. Writing? Photography? Modeling? Mayhap, hunting-“ He’s onto me. “-For a new one already?” Or not. I chuckled at him, trying to brush off his last comment. “No no, I’d rather keep my private like private, thank you very much.” My feet moved with his, swirling around the ballroom in smooth circles. “And why is that? Are you afraid of me catching you red handed?” My brain froze, avoiding his questions smoothly. “Well, Mr. Hunt, I like to keep my life private for the same reason we close doors when using the restroom.”

    “My, Ma Cherie, what a brave soul you are for speaking such a thing out loud; What have you to hide?” He laughed at my last comment, but I am not a comedian for say. “Well, for starters, I have been keeping quiet about how charming you look this evening.” My boss always said the key to conversating with a hunter is bravery, keep them on their toes. “Oh mon! Thank you Ma Lapin, how very kind of you~” His voice enticed me even further, it was smooth, deep.

    “Oh? Ma Cherie, you seem to have lost track.” He tapped my shoulder and I snapped out of my daze; I was far too deep in his spell. His masculine features and charming touches were absolutely captivating. The way he drew me in was no laughing matter, his praises had me above the clouds, and his smile; his smile is what had me shamelessly spellbinded to him. The moment he had flashed me that heavenly grin is when I knew he would be the end of my career; he would be the end of me.

    “Ma Cherie, if you could, I would like to have a talk with you.” He spoke in a serious tone, and I couldn’t help but follow along. “Of course, is there anything specific you would like to discuss?” I followed along side him down the corridor. “Yes. You seem to be a bit out of it lately, is something on your mind?” Did he know? “No, it seems I’m just a little charmed by you tonight.” Would praise get me out of this? “Mademoiselle (Y/n), I am by far endured by your praise, but please, do not avoid the question. I am a hunter, studying someone is what I do best. I know there is something picking at you.”

    We stood in front of the stained glass, the blue moonlight hitting his angelic features so perfectly. The tinted glass was painted with something, the sin of lust and love. ‘Eros’ as some would call it, ‘Aphrodite’ the people said, ‘Asmodeus’ is lesser known. But to me, the sin, the décor, it’s all nothing but a joke. A sick and twisted joke to get everyone to believe that what they do matters, but we all die in the end. There is no use in doing what you love, there is no use finding love, there is no use following the belief that love is real.

    “Well, nothing in particular has been itching at me. I guess I am just a bit…distracted tonight.” Tonight…tonight…TONIGHT! He drew me in too far, I was supposed to be the one drawing him in. I fell for his charm, I fell for his dirty tricks, I fell for…him. Because of him, I will fail my mission. My pride, my honor, it will all be torn down to pieces once my boss sees me in the hands of ‘The Hunter Of Love’. I stayed quiet, waiting for an answer from him, but it never seemed to come.

    “…Rook Hunt, The Hunter Of Love, a beauty of the Pomefiore dorm, the assistant of Vil Schoenheit himself, it seems I have…” I ran away from my statement, this isn’t supposed to be happening, this cannot be true. “…Fallen for me?” He finished my sentence and I hold back a cry. I stayed quiet, but I have yet to leave myself vulnerable in front of him. “Well?” He took a step forward, tilting my head up with his thumb and pointer finger.

    Normally people would try to deny their love for someone. “Yes, I have fallen for you. But for that, I despise you as well. You’ve ruined me, you’ve stolen my pride, I’m only a toy for someone to play around with. But as the adults have always said ‘Put your toys away when you’re done with them.’ And it seems you’ve forgotten to.

    His eyes widened; a look of shock painted over his face. “Ma Cherie, you could not really mean that, could you? Falling for me? Hating me?” He seemed heartbroken. Had I got through him? It’s hard to tell, he’s never like this. “I-…” I paused my answer, letting my tears glide down my rosy cheeks. He let out a gasp, now was my chance. I quickly turn us around, stepping forward until he was backed up against the wall. “Rook Hunt, you are the only thing holding me back from what I truly want, I’m sorry for thi-”

    I didn’t get a chance to finished before he turned the tables, he had his hand to my throat and a hunting knife to my neck. “Ma Cherie, if you are really planning on assassinating me for power, that is truly a shame. I understand how you feel, killing someone you love is the hardest part of that life.” He pressed the knife into my neck with more pressure, small droplets of blood painted my skin. “I- R-Rook, P-pleas-e-“ I put my hand on his wrist, only for him to more pressure.

    “Mademoiselle (Y/n), it is time for your career to end. You’ve wanted this for the longest time, right? But I won’t let you go without a proper goodbye.” The weapon fully slid through my throat, choking on the crimson liquid, and coughing it up, Rook pressed his lips to mine. He held me with such passion, as I slowly lost breath in his arms. He pulled away, blood staining his lips and clothing. “Ma Cherie, I love you.”

    I reached my hand out to him, but it was too late. The knife had been slit through my throat, and I shut my eyes for good. His words echoed in my head as I the last glance I got of him was him pressing his lips to my dying body, a tragedy, Night Raven College’s best assassin, defeated by Rook Hunt.

[anothermcytblog]

Of Theseus, Of Echo || Tommy and Tubbo Interlude

Style: One Shot Word Count: 1669 CW: None that I can think of!

Summary: The story of Theseus popular on this server, and Tommy wonders which Theseus people think of. // As he walks into New L'manberg, Tubbo wonders if Echo would have exiled her best friend. // "Besides, who wants to admit they didn't notice gods among men?"

Contrary to popular belief, Tommy was not an idiot. Impulsive, reckless, loud, childish, possessive- All true, but he isn't an idiot. He knew that perhaps his choices weren't the best- but come on! Exile seemed a bit extreme. He deliberately told Tubbo he didn't want to be vice president yet- not while Dream still had his discs- but did anyone listen? Nooo, they just continued to act like he was still vice president! And he wasn't just going to repeat himself, it would make him seem like a coward! And Tommy Watson-Innit was no coward!

Still, as he sits on the shore of the beach with a fishing rod in hand, he can't help but wonder if perhaps he really was an idiot. Why did he stick up for Ranboo? A guy he barely knew. Sure he was Nikis' old friend (Younger brother? Tommy really didn't know. Gentlemens' rule of the SMP, you don't ask about someone's past) but he didn't need to lie for him and take the sole blame. Ranboo may have stuck up for him but was it really worth it? ("Of course it was," a Wilbur- Not Ghostbur- sounding voice told him, "That's how I raised you. Always be kind unless given a reason not to be. You're not a bad person Tommy, you're just a child.")

Dream appears beside him and Tommy half wants to snarkily ask him if Dream wants to blow up his fishing rod but he holds his tongue. No use arguing with Dream now, not when Dream is his only real person to talk to outside of unreliable messages with Ranboo and an amnesiac ghost who's just a shadow of his older brother. "I wouldn't take you as a fisher," Dream says after a moment. It's hard to tell but Tommy thinks Dream is looking at him from the corner of his eyes, but it's almost impossible to know with his dumb fucking mask.

"There's a lot you don't know about me bitch," He responds, reeling in the rod and grabbing the fish, tossing it back into the ocean as he waits for another bite.

"Really?" Dream asks and Tommy knows Dream is baiting him to reveal some grand secret, a chance to 'one-up him' in something big, "Like what?"

"My real name is actually Theseus," He says, unable to hide the pleased look on his face when Dream physically turns to him in what Tommy assumes is surprise, "Techno named me and Phil just agreed to it to make him happy. Wil-" His name gets caught in his throat and he knows that Dream heard it, "He gave me the nickname Tommy and I much prefer it. Though, I can't help but wonder," Tommy says, laughing so Dream can't hear the way his voice wavers as he tries to hold off of mourning whatever he had left to feel about Techno, "Do you think he knew? That I'd grow up to my namesake? Once a hero, now exiled. All that's left is dying in disgrace."

Dream stays silent, and Tommy can't help the pride he feels to have caught Dream off guard. He half wonders what Dream is thinking right now, and he almost asks before Ghostbur interrupts and asks Tommy if he'd like some blue.

The story of Theseus popular on this server, and Tommy wonders which Theseus people think of.

--

New L'manberg is pretty at night, Tubbo has to admit. The lanterns Ghostbur made light up the sky and the paths between areas, giving Tubbo the warmth he's been slowly losing. In the back of his mind, he wonders if this is what Wilbur meant when he said he was always cold. Walking along the path, Tubbo makes his way to L'mantree and sits outside of the obsidian encasing the tree. "Ah, Mr. President!" Someone calls for him, and for a moment Tubbo believes it to be Ranboo but a flash of green next to him tells him it isn't.

"Dream!" Tubbo greets, giving the masked man a smile, "You're out late, are you on a walk?" ("He's using you kid," Schlatt whispers in his ear, voice soft in a way it hadn't for a while, "You need to open your eyes. Dream has never been on your side. He made you exile your best friend, remember? Dream isn't your friend here, just like I wasn't your friend.")

"I could say the same to you!" Dream laughs, light hearted and friendly, "Just like you said, I'm taking a walk. How about you?"

"Just thinkin'" He shrugs- because it's true! Technically, at least. The entire reason he went on a walk was to clear his head, the upcoming Green Festival weighing heavy on his mind. When Dream tilts his head, Tubbo realizes he needs to come up with something- what did Schlatt tell him? The best lies were based on truth? "About Techno," He tells Dream, turning to face him, "He used to tell me this story- an Old Myth- whenever he and Phil would come home from adventuring. I... I miss hearing about it, Wilbur did his best to tell them but he was more of a Modern Myth slash Sky God story kind of guy. He spoke so much about then you think the Sky Gods actually told them the stories themselves!" He laughs a bit, "Do you know the story he'd tell me?"

"Theseus?" Dream asks, making a confused noise when Tubbo shakes his head.

"Echo," Tubbo says, smiling a bit, "He wanted to name me Echo actually, though Wilbur put a stop to it and since Techno named Tommy, Phil let Wilbur name me. Have you heard the story of Echo?" He asks, almost perking up when Dream shakes his head no, "Right- Okay, it's been a while since I've heard it so I might get a couple things wrong but! Echo was a mountain nymph and Zeus was just in love having sex with nymphs and would visit the overworld a lot because of it! Hera naturally became suspicious and tried to catch Zeus in the act with a Nymph but Echo, under Zeus order, kept distracting Hera. Eventually, Hera found this out and took her wrath out on Echo and cursed Echo so she could only repeat the last thing she heard! Echos' misery doesn't end here though, because she fell in love with the handsome Narcissus! However, she was never able to tell Narcissus how she felt- not like Narcissus liked her anyways- and eventually Narcissus was cursed to fall in love with his own reflection and Echo was forced to watch Narcissus perish due to his own vanity! No one really knows what happened to Echo after that though, I feel bad for her. She was pretty much forced to become everyones yes man after she was punished because Zeus told her to protect him from his wife even though Zeus was in the wrong. I think Techno was trying to warn me."

"Warn you?" Dream echos back, a curious tone in his voice.

"Yeah!" Tubbo nods, "I mean..." He trails off for a moment, suddenly remembering who he is talking to and how he needs to be careful, "Like, I've always been Tommys yes man you know? I go along with what he says and does what he asks- sort of like how Echo, well, echos back whatever people say! Then with Schlatt I did everything he asked of me, even when it led to my own exe... execution- Like Echo did what Zeus said even though it got her cursed! Ooo do you think Techno can see the future?"

"Maybe," Dream says, content for now, "You should head on back though, mobs are beginning to spawn and you're not very armed. Maybe you can tell me more Old Myths later."

Tubbo nods, giving Dream a wave goodbye. As he walks into New L'manberg, Tubbo wonders if Echo would have exiled her best friend. He shakes his head, picking up his pace as he hears a Zombie groan- Of course Echo would have, only if Zeus asked her though... If Tubbo is Echo, would that make Quackity his Zeus?

--

Sitting on top of a grand tree, Wilbur looks over at his dead ram friend, the pool of water around them shimmering as the image of Tuboo walking into New L'manberg fades, "Think they'll be okay?"  He asks, although he already knew the answer to that.

"Ehhhh..." Schlatt replies, "Depends on if they listen to us or not. Though, we haven't done this in a while so who knows how effective it'll be."

WIlbur snorts, as Schlatt waves his hand over the water, switching it to a sleeping Ranboo, "You think Connor would be able to sense us, or at least you."

Schlatt shrugs, laying on his back as he looks at the sky, "He was never the most magically adapt, he was better at the human shit. Besides, Mr. Sky God, it isn't like he knows what Dreams aura is. The tricky bastard likes keeping his secrets."

"Well, Mr. Sky Champion," Wilbur responds, the familiar cocky grin on his face as he looks up from the water, "It seems like the narrative is going to get a lot more interesting from here on out. Dream seems to be preparing for something. I always have been a fan of history rhyming and the God of the End has always been a word smith."  

"Gods of old I forgot how much you talk," Schlatt groans, "I forgot how fucking cryptid and nonsensical you are as well."

Wilbur cackles, "Well, you have an eternity to remember at least. They won't figure us out for a while at least, I have zero faith in them. Besides, who wants to admit they didn't notice gods among men?"

Rain falls somewhere in the distance as TNT explodes, a pool of lava bubbling somewhere below though the god and half-god don't pay much attention to it. They've already dealt with the rhythm of betrayal from them.

[thorne93]

The Softest Fire (Part 5)

Prompt: Rosaline Vaughan had it all: fame, money, power, glory, a high status job. Until, one day, she woke up, and realized something was missing from her life.

Word Count: 2458

Warnings: dealing with animals(??), slurs/language

Notes: First Fantastic Beast fic! I could NOT have done this at all without @arrow-guy​​. They have created a counterpart to this fic, writing it from Nora Vaughan’s perspective (Rosaline’s cousin/adopted sister). Fic aesthetic done by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​.

Life wasn’t terrible. I still went to an amazing job every day, got to see my fantastic cousin and loving Aunt and Uncle quite often, I had made a few friends outside of Newt, Theseus, and Nora. Mainly people who frequented Nora’s shop and a few old colleagues from the Ministry. I suppose I clinged to a social distraction since far too often I was forced to listen to Newt pine and yearn for Tina.

It was either a new letter, to which he excitedly ripped open and would read at the table before telling me all of the contents. Or he was bragging about her in general, or wondering what she was doing. It was entirely maddening. 

I thought it might get easier with time, that I might build up an immunity to it, or become desensitized somehow, but it actually made it all the worse. Possibly because I was still very much in love with him, and that hadn’t diminished at all. Watching the person you love fawn over someone else has to be one of the most cruel fates imaginable. 

Although, for a brief moment, my heartbreak took a backseat when Theseus stopped by to see Newt. He popped in and I told him Newt was downstairs. I was merely gathering some firewood for a small fire down there. 

“Oh, tell him I’m here, if you don’t mind,” Theseus requested. 

“Sure thing. It’s good to see you. What’ve you been up to?” I wondered as I picked up some logs. 

“Well, actually, I got engaged.” 

“Engaged? Well congratulations,” I said with a grin. “I could cook you and your family some dinner, as a celebration?” I offered.

“We’d like that.”

“So who is the lucky girl?” I asked, still stacking logs.

“Leta Lestrange.”

I froze, clutching the logs in my hand. 

“Leta… Lestrange?” I questioned, hoping I was delusional for a moment. Maybe a bowtruckle was actually in my ear. 

“Yes? Why, is that a problem?” he inquired innocently. 

I looked him in the eye and shook my head. “Not a problem at all, Theseus. I just had no idea you associated with trash, that’s all.” I flashed a superficial smile. “I’ll tell Newt you’re here.” I descended the steps to the basement and tossed the wood in a stack.

“Rosaline?”

“Hmm?” I hummed, keeping my anger out of my voice. 

“Are you alright? You seem… upset?”

“Upset? No. No I’m not upset. Your brother is engaged to the worst person to walk this planet, that’s all.”

Newt nodded. “Ah, he told you did he?”

“Yes, he did. So that’s why you were late last night…”

“Yes, I was at the engagement party.” He appeared guilty. He knew how much you weren’t a fan of Leta’s. “I should’ve told you.”

“Why? It’s none of my business who your brother marries. Just know he’s in for a world of trouble.” 

“She isn’t all that bad.” 

I stopped assembling the wood in a proper manner, turning to him. “You know, Newt, one day, you’re going to realize that Leta is never going to be a good person. It might be too late, but people like Leta don’t change. She didn’t bat an eye when you were punished for her crime. What do you think she’ll do to your brother? Speaking of, he’s waiting for you upstairs.” I stared him down, wondering if he would challenge me or go speak to Theseus. He eyed me up and down before letting out a soft sigh and ascending the stairs. 

This got under my skin more than it should have, but Leta, being a part of their family… It felt so wrong. I just knew she was a problem for someone, somehow she would make their lives complicated and they didn’t deserve that. 

----------------------

The next morning, nearly lunch time, Nora stopped by, mainly to visit me and the creatures. She offered to help feed the grindylows. I happily accepted the help while I got the other food ready.

“Oh, Merlin’s beard, you won’t believe what I found out last night,” I began.

“What’s that?” Nora wondered.

“Apparently Theseus Scamander was dating Leta Lestrange, did you know this?”

She bobbed her head. “Newt had mentioned something like that a while ago.”

I shook my head from anger. “Yes, well he apparently has lost his bloody mind and asked that horrible excuse for a human to marry him. Can you believe it? Ridiculous…” 

“Mmm…” Nora nodded and went back to feeding the grindylows in the tank. “Yeah, I know. It’s hard to believe. Seems like yesterday you two were graduating and now she’s engaged to… to Theseus.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me that we attended school together. She doesn’t deserve the name Hogwarts on her record.”

“Yeah,” she mused, sounding half-disinterested.

“Cousin? What’s the matter? Are you just as mad as me about this engagement?” I questioned.

“Hmm? Oh… yes, that’s it.”

I peered at her. “No… No it isn’t. What’s really wrong? You aren’t mad at all… You’re sad… But why would you be sad…” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, it hit me. “Oh… Oh, Merlin! You like him, don’t you?”

Nora sighed. “Mmm… Yeah… Maybe a little.” 

I stood with my mouth slightly open before scowling. “Well now I hate Leta all the more…” I nearly spit her name. I knew I didn’t like that slimy little witch… “Cousin,” I said, getting closer and putting my hand on her arm, “is there anything I can do? Shall I tell Theseus for you?”

She shook her head, stepping away from the tank, wiping her hands on her pants. “No, I’ll be fine. Abraham from the pub a couple of doors down from my store invited me to dinner. Might see how that goes.” 

I frowned at her though, worried for her. “Nora, I can’t allow you to settle and ignore your feelings. You need to go to him, tell him how you feel,” I encouraged.

Nora’s face whipped to mine, abandoning the animals she was tending to. “Whoa, I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to move on! Clearly I should take your advice, seeing as you’re so wonderful at acting on your own feelings.” 

I looked at her, absorbing the verbal attack. Her words had made me feel as though I’d been slapped, but years of training allowed me to keep my face stoic and calm. 

“That’s a completely different situation, Nora….” 

"Great. Then I won't overstep and offer solutions where none are needed."

“Nora--” I started, but stopped as Newt descended the stairs into the basement. He sat down the bucket in his hand before leaning over and touching her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry again about Theseus,” he said quietly. 

“You don’t have to apologize for him. I’m sorry for you too, with it being Leta and all.”

My eyes narrowed. “Wait… Newt… you… you know how she feels about Theseus?”

Newt’s eyes danced between me and Nora. “Well… yes, she told me one day. She had warned me, well, you tell her,” he instructed, gesturing from Nora to me.

She peered at me, letting out a sigh. “I didn’t really mean to. I had just said one day if I was in a bad mood it was because I hadn't been managing my emotions well and had recently realized my feelings for Theseus.” She pressed her lips together. “His brother is quite handsome.”

“Of course, I appreciated her not being cryptic about it. I don’t like having to figure out what people are thinking or what they feel,” he interjected, gazing at me. “It was quite nice.”

My eyes were narrowed on them both, not really registering their words any more. “How long has he known?” I demanded, suddenly feeling some sort of betrayal for being out of the loop. 

They peered at each other. “Two years?” Nora offered.

“Two years?” I echoed, shock and near horror in my voice. “What the… what the hell? Nora, I’m your sister, practically. Newt, you’re my best friend, why am I the last to know?”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” she dismissed. 

“Not that big of a deal?”

“Well in the grand scheme of everything else going on? An impending war between the wizarding world and muggles,” she reminded.

“I don’t care if the whole world is in ashes, I should’ve seen this before now.” I stared down at the floor and then back up at them. “How did I not know about this?” I wondered, sounding almost powerless. 

Nora shrugged. “You’ve had other things to worry about. I didn’t want to ruin your focus, so I didn’t bother telling you. It wasn’t a matter of hiding something from you. I just didn’t want to burden you with something that wasn’t earth-shattering level of importance at the time.” 

I peered at her, nodding. “Right… Well, are you just going to… move on then?”

“What do you suggest I do?” she remarked. 

At this, I couldn’t help but press my lips together and nod slightly. “I… suppose you’re right. If the person you love wants someone else, there’s hardly anything you can do,” I acknowledged.

------------------------

A little under a week later, I stopped by Nora’s place for some girl chat. Just a social visit. We discussed work a little bit, and some happenings in the city before I finally spoke what had been on my mind for a while now. 

“Nora,” I began, dragging her name out.

“Hmm?” 

“May I ask you something?”

“I don’t see myself stopping you, go ahead,” she encouraged with quick wit. 

I tried my best to suppress a smile. “Um, why Theseus?” I questioned carefully before dropping sugar into my tea. Nora didn’t exactly seem inclined to speak, so I continued. “I only ask because, well... he stands for everything you’re against. He and I are much more alike, and you and I hardly ever see eye to eye. Not to mention, as far as I know, you two don’t have a history at the Ministry or Hogwarts so… where did this feeling blossom from?” 

“I don’t quite understand what you mean. If you’re talking about getting the job done, no matter the cost, that may be, but he doesn’t stand in direct opposition of my beliefs.” She sighs and folds her arms. “I recognize that he may lack knowledge in some areas, but that doesn’t change who he is and tries to be. He’s a good man who wants to take care of his family. He’s an excellent leader. Tries to protect his men where he can. He’s kind and gentle with those he cares about most. His sense of humor could use some work, I’ll admit, but he’s got a beautiful smile. A big heart. He’s not what you would look for in a partner, but he doesn’t need to be.”

I nodded. “Mm,” I hummed before sipping. “And just how did you find all of this out?”

“It wasn’t intentional, I don’t think. We spent some time together when I worked at the Ministry. He and I would eat lunch together when we were able and we’d just talk. Nothing serious, but it was obvious by the way he talked about his mother and Newt that he cared for them deeply.” She bites her lip. “Do you remember that month I was getting my shop off the ground? During your last year of training?”

It took me a moment but then I nodded, remembering. “Yes. What about it?”

“There was a point where he was helping me out a couple days a week after he finished at work. He and Newt organized the grand opening.”

I frowned deeply. “I keep finding things out about the Scamander’s that I wasn’t privy to.” An eyebrow shoots up, giving her a look. “So, I’m going to assume it was during this time that you started to fall for the older Scamander?” 

She shrugs. “I don’t think there was any point where I noticed I had started to fall for him. It was just there one day.” She pauses, brow furrowing. “I didn’t tell you about his help because he asked me to keep quiet about it. He never cared about getting credit.”

A soft smile played on my lips. “So he’s softer than I presumed. Interesting. So you’re really just going to sit by and let the most horrid witch in the wizarding world marry him?”

“She has to have some redeeming qualities if Theseus proposed to her. And if he and I were meant to be at any point, that time has long passed.”

I shook my head. “I just don’t believe that. I think she has him under some spell. No one can care for a girl like that, and she can’t care for anyone in return.” I pressed my lips together in disgust. “You deserve happiness, Nora, not her.”

“I understand that you don’t care for her, but it’s not my place to deny anyone happiness. Or yours, for that matter. I’ve talked to Theseus since he’s become engaged. Newt has as well. Do you not trust us to recognize when someone close to us has been bewitched?”

I scoffed slightly. “You know damned well that’s not it. I just… Ugh, it just irks me deeply to see you go without love, that’s all.” I sighed. “So you’ve talked to him? What has Theseus said about it? Did you mention being madly in love with him?” 

“I absolutely did not. I asked after his mother and congratulated him on his engagement. He seems happy.” She frowns. “You seem to think my only chance at happiness is with Theseus. How do you know I won’t find someone else? Or is this just your vendetta against Leta?”

“Why can’t it be both?” I peered at her before taking her hand in mine. “Nora, I don’t think your happiness lies with any man, let alone any one man. I think your happiness lies with you alone, but I also know just how badly it can hurt to watch the man you care for, love another. If you should find another man, I’ll be glad to support you two. But right now, he is what you want, so he is what I’m fighting for, that’s all.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m fine, darling. I never actively pursued him. I don’t actively want him. Appreciating someone is enough for me.” Her eyes narrow. “I’m not going to be able to convince you, am I?”

I looked off in the distance, bobbing my head. “If you truly feel that way, I will back off and leave both of you alone.” I held up my hands in surrender. 

“Thank you. I’m sure they’ll appreciate that too.”

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

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[mosylufanfic]

Name That Tune

Inspired by the pic that DP recently posted to Instagram of her and Carlos looking like a couple of badass rockstars.

Name That Tune

Over the sound of his piano, Cisco heard the front door open and the click of familiar high heels on the tile floor of his entryway. He didn't bother to call out. He was the only one who played this piano. She'd know where to find him.

Sure enough, his manager strode in a few minutes later, ferociously stylish in skinny jeans, silk blouse, high heels, and a leather jacket that was probably too warm for the southern California weather, but still looked like a million bucks. "Surprised to see you awake," she said, setting her leather satchel down next to her usual chair.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He noodled the same chord progression again, frowning. There was something off about it, but he couldn't figure out what.

"You had a late night last night." Caitlin pulled out her phone and tablet and laid them out on the black glass coffee table, all business as always.

"Of all people, you should know better than to believe what you see online."

"I don't," she retorted, waking up the tablet and checking something. Probably her schedule, or her to-do list with its hundreds of tasks and subtasks. "Ralph texted me."

"My driver ratted me out? Fired. Out on the street."

"I cut his checks," she said calmly. "So no. Not fired. And you were getting in at four, the morning before a performance. Did you even sleep?"

It wasn't an idle question. He'd been known to pull 48-hour stretches when the music grabbed him by the throat. "Yes," he said. "A few hours." He ran his fingers over the keys. "I'm fine. I'll take a nap later.”

"See that you do." She unfolded herself from the chair and strode over to his wet bar. He ignored the various clatters and thumps and kept banging away at the chords. He was no closer to figuring them out when she set a giant mug on the music shelf of the piano, with a coaster under it.

He picked it up and took a sip. Hot tea, lemon ginger with two squeezes of honey, just the way he liked it. He would drink at least three or four more cups before tonight's show. "Thanks," he said.

She shrugged and settled herself back in her chair with her bottle of kiwi strawberry sparkling water. He had no idea why she liked it - the stuff tasted like it had heard about kiwis and strawberries on the Internet once - but she did, so he always had at least a case in the house.

"Are you working on the new album or messing around?" she asked.

"Mmm. Working." He played the chord progression again. "This phrase won't get out of my head but I'm not sure what it's about. Thoughts?"

"You know I'm tone-deaf," she said.

He shrugged. "You know what you like, though. C'mon." He played it again, all the way through.

She listened, sipping her water. "It sounds like yearning," she said. 

He lifted his hands from the keyboard and looked at her. "Yearning?"

"You know. Like there's something you want but can't have."

He lifted the tea to his lips again to hide the hard swallow he had to take then. When he was pretty sure he had himself under control, he said, "So something just out of reach?"

She looked away for a moment. "More like . . . it's within arm's length, but you're not brave enough to touch it."

He stared at her. She cleared her throat and took another sip of water. "Or, you know. Something like that."

"Hey," he said, and she looked up. He pointed at her. "I'm the singer-songwriter around here, don't you forget that."

She smiled a little.

"But I gotta admit that's . . . that was pretty good." He pulled his notebook toward him and scribbled down a few of the things she'd said. The musical phrase that had been circling his brain started to grow and expand, verses, chorus, bridge . . . He grabbed his phone and set it to record, then played a few of the threads spooling themselves out, before he forgot them. 

Caitlin listened, sipping her water, her face calm and unreadable.

"Good," he said, ending the recording and taking a deep gulp of tea. "I can work with that." He got up from the piano, taking his tea with him, and went over to kiss her cheek. "Thanks."

"It's all you," she said, and picked up her tablet. "If you're at a good stopping place, we should go over your schedule for today." 

He shrugged and dropped onto the couch, setting his tea on the coffee table. "Hit me." 

She paused to glare at his coaster-less mug until he reached over and pulled one off the little rack. Then she picked up her phone and fired away like a Gatling gun.

"I'm going from here to the venue for last-minute logistics. You're due at three for a sound check and run-through. Allegra's arranging dinner from Sushi Ten for you and the crew."

He nodded. "Including the Legends?"

She checked a text on her phone. "The bassist is allergic to soy and shellfish, so he asked for another restaurant, but everyone else is getting an order."

Shellfish, Cisco thought, filing it away. And soy.

If this group did a good show opening for him tonight, they'd come with him on tour next month.  Of course, Caitlin or her razor-efficient PA would make sure there weren't any allergens on the bus or at any of the stops, but it was good to remember anyway.

"At seven," she went on, "you've got a meet and greet with fans, including the Make a Wish kid you requested. Names and details on your calendar. The show starts at eight and you'll go on at nine-thirty. Rolling Stone wants an interview after."

"Who's the reporter?"

She checked her notes. "Iris West-Allen."

"Good. I like her. She doesn't spring shit on me."

"Yes," she said dryly, "I like that about her too. So that should be half an hour, an hour. I'll catch her on the way out and confirm any details." She tapped a few notes to herself and looked up. "Am I arranging any backstage passes tonight?"

"Yeah," he said, taking a sip of tea. "Couple of cuties I met at the bar. They follow me on Instagram."

She raised a brow. "You have over two hundred million followers on Instagram."

"They posted a pic last night. It was really nice meeting them." He smirked. "Really nice."

She picked up her phone, scrolled through his mentions, and found the post he was talking about. "These two?" she asked, holding it up to show a shot of a good-looking young couple, with him in the center, all three of them smiling brightly. Behind them the bar was dark and crowded.

"Yep. Jake and Christy . . . something. Forgot their last name." He waved a hand. "And while you're at it, bump up their seats as far as you can."

"I'll take care of it," she said, tapping a note to herself. Cool and unruffled, she continued, "Gatorade and condoms in your dressing room or back here?"

Because she was looking at her phone and not him, he allowed his eyes to narrow a little. "Let's say both," he said, pushing harder. "See where the night takes us."

She didn't react. "Okay. I'll be by tomorrow at noon. You've got another interview at two. Entertainment Weekly, they're coming here. So don't wear yourself out with your Instagram cuties tonight." 

"Hawthorne," he said. "That's it. Jake and Christy Hawthorne."

"Good, that makes my job a little easier," she said, typing the name into her phone. "I'll have those passes waiting at the box office." She flipped the cover closed on her tablet and started packing it away. "Anything else you need before I go?"

He gazed up at her, thinking, your hands, your lips, your heart.

He shrugged and drained his tea. "I'm good."

She tucked her phone in its little outside pocket. "Don't get lost in the music," she said. "Remember to take that nap."

He checked the time. "I've already asked for a sandwich in an hour, and after that I'll crash for ninety minutes or so. I'll be there in plenty of time."

"I know," she said. "Text if you need me." She was off then, heels clicking on the tiles, voice echoing in the hallway as she delegated new tasks to her PA, door thumping closed behind her.

He stayed on the couch for a moment longer, telling himself it would be maudlin beyond belief if he went to the window and stared longingly after her sapphire blue car streaking down the driveway. 

The least she could have done was look a little jealous when he'd implied he was going to have a wild threesome with a sexy couple tonight after the show. 

Not that he was actually going to do much more than kiss Christy Hawthorne's cheek. This was her birthday present, her husband had told him in the bar last night, one that Jake had scrimped and saved his teacher’s salary for.

No matter what Cisco had implied, the backstage passes and upgraded seats were just something nice for a couple of fans that had been sweet and excited when they’d recognized him at the bar last night. He hadn't gotten the sense that either of them were open to a post-concert tryst, even with their favorite rock star. 

So he'd walk around backstage with them, make chit-chat, sign some things, and wave good-bye. And if Caitlin thought they'd done anything more in his dressing room, well then, that was her problem.

He peeled himself off the couch and went back to the wet bar to get another mug of tea going. He grabbed his phone off the piano on the way, listening to the recording he'd made. The things she'd said swirled around his head. 

Arm's length. Close enough to touch. 

That was good. That could be something there. He played a silent string of notes on the edge of the bar as his tea steeped, hearing them swim in his head, aching. Longing. 

Yearning.

If nothing else, unrequited love was great for his songwriting.

FINIS

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

Vlogger Gary, annoyance at first sight.

Happy birthday! I know I’m very badly late but I still hope you enjoy this a little!

For the rest of you, consider an AU where Zari wasn’t the only one whose timeline got changed by Heyworld.

Ao3

“John!”

Someone grabbed his am, and he spun around as Gary called his name again. The other man looked stressed out and panicked, even more so than he usually did.

“What, Gary?” he snapped. Neron and Tabitha were gone, Nate was back, and the world was safe. There was no reason for him to be this anxious.

“The timeline’s changing,” Gary babbled as everyone continued to celebrate and cheer around them. “And because of that, my timeline is changing. Rip recruited me from the future. I’m a kid right now, somewhere out in that crowd, and I’m about to disappear and I’m scared.”

It was a lot to process in a short amount of time, but John shook his head.

“You’re not gonna disappear,” he promised, grabbing Gary into a tight hug. “You’re gonna be fine, you hear? You’re going to be fine.”

“Of course, I’m fine!”

              John frowned as he was pulled back from the hug. For a moment, he drew a blank on the man in front of him. Then he remembered exactly who he was. Jeffery Green, but JJ to anyone he ever met. He worked at a museum in the future and had been picked up with the Tarazi siblings when Kuasa was after their totem.  An obscure mixture of brains and chaotic energy that had saved everyone’s lives time and time again, not to mention a close friend to John.

“You saved Nate, man!” JJ cheered, slapping him on the back.

John grinned, but still felt like something had been lost in all this.

~~~~

“I can’t believe you talked me into going on this with you,” John grumbled as he walked down the hallway with Behrad. “You could have gotten anyone else- Ava, Nate, JJ?”

“Dealing with the team, my sister’s ex, and refused to go as soon as I mentioned the word influencers. You’re my only available hope of sanity tonight.”

“You wanted to come to this, Behrad,” Zari reminded him from the front. “You always keep asking what the big deal with these is all about. Now I get to show you around my life and people can hear how my little brother is an awesome superhero.”

Behrad glared. “You’re not telling anyone about that.”

“Are you sure? Because people would love to-”

“I don’t want to be on display, Zari. You know this. That’s why we went on the ship-”

              John tuned out the sibling bickering as the sound of muffled music grew louder. They had been fighting a lot more since Heyworld had reignited Zari’s desire to be in the spotlight. The attention and the documentary crew that had been on the ship gave her a taste for it again. She’d been off the ship more often now to film videos or attend events like this one. JJ was even struggling to keep her aboard, and he was always the one with ideas that made her want to stay on the ship.

              Things had been different since Heyworld somehow. It wasn’t the attention or the documentary crew or Ava moving in and Mona leaving. Something had changed and John couldn’t figure out what it was. It felt as though someone was missing, but no one else seemed to notice it. Although Gideon did have a problem with some phantom data, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary besides the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

“And here we are,” Zari waved at two doormen. “This is going to be fun.”

              The doors were opened up to the trio, who entered behind Zari. The whole room was lit up in purple and music pulsed around them. Huge banners advertising eyeshadow or something were on every wall along with a massive one from the ceiling. So many people filled the room, all standing out in some way. It nearly overwhelming just standing there without engaging.

Zari, however, was unaffected. This was her world, after all. “Come on, go mingle. I’ll find you when it’s time to go.”

“Is there a bar here?” John shouted to her over the music.

“Yeah, over there, I think.��

“Great, bye.”

              John followed in the direction that Zari had gestured, squeezing through the throngs of people clustered together or dancing. When he finally got there and asked for whiskey, the bartender looked almost relieved. Probably pleased he didn’t have to make some fancy ass drink like the ones he’d seen some people with. Who the hell needed a color-changing cocktail with a glow stick in it?

“Haven’t seen you before,” someone said as he accepted the whiskey.

              John turned and nearly rolled his eyes at the man taking a seat next to him. Clearly, he was one of these influencers JJ had been so desperate to avoid. He was wearing a turquoise suit over a gold shirt and had two studs piercing his right eyebrow. Behind the glasses with frames matching his suit, dark brown eyes loaded with eyeliner looked him up and down. This wasn’t just an appreciate glance, but one that seemed to be trying to profile him.

Something tugged in John’s gut, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Probably disgust of being cornered by an influencer or celebrity or whatever the hell this guy was. “First time. Came with a friend.”

“Anyone I might know?” the man pried as he accepted a glass of something that smelled like lavender and was the color of daffodils.

Now John rolled his eyes. “Zari Tarazi.”

“The Dragon Girl?” the man gasped. “Is she finally coming back into the spotlight? I’ve missed seeing her around. She always adds such class with events like this. And you said you were a friend? Lucky!”

John shrugged as he took a drink. He guessed they counted as friends. “I just came for the moral support. I take it you must be part of some circus with that suit?”

The man snickered. “Cute. I’m in the entertainment business too. I’m Gary. Maybe you’ve heard of my videos? Probably more of the spooky ones than the makeup tutorials. You know Beyond Our World? Exploring unsolved mysteries and other otherworldly events.”

“Definitely not,” John shook his head. “You cater to the conspiracy theorists, huh? Good for you.”

“Actually, the ‘Green Beans’, which my fans love to call themselves, have all kind of viewpoints when it comes to conspiracies,” Gary told him. “It’s the interest that brings people in, not their beliefs. Interest is what always brings people in to see the videos.”

“So how much in your videos is fake?” John asked. “You make up evidence to get people to believe in the things that go bump in the night, huh?”

Gary scowled at him. “How dare you, when you haven’t even seen anything I’ve-”

“I don’t need to see a thing,” John snapped, getting out of the seat and facing the man. “And you know why?”

Gary sat there, no emotion showing on his face.

“I know because I’ve seen it all. Ghosts, demons, villains raised from hell. I’ve walked in the shadows. They’re real, but no one ever believes in it. If they did, they’d all be panicking. There wouldn’t be a party. So I don’t need your content. You have nothing.”

Now Gary stood up. He had only an inch on John, but John was struggling to look him in the eyes when he noticed the hideous lime green loafers.

“I have enough,” Gary told him. “I don’t need you to bring me down. Sorry, Zari’s friend.”

He walked away into the crowd. John watched him go and finished the rest of the whiskey. The funny feeling he’d had before was back.

“Now is not the time for you to be standing around like some hapless idiot!”

              John clenched his head as the words, his words echoed in his ears. Something flashed in his head. Trying to hold Neron off with magic and shouting at someone. It was Gary, except looking more like he was with the government. He looked hurt and distraught.

That wasn’t right though. He’d called JJ an idiot and the other man had taken a swing that knocked him out. They’d buried the hatchet about it and moved on. But now that…didn’t feel right at all.

“Hey,” a hand slapped him on the shoulder as Behrad came up beside him. “We’re leaving.”

“Yes,” John exhaled and turned to face the other man. “Please, get me out of here. Where’s Zari?”

Behrad pointed to where his older sister was heading for the door. “She’s got a head start.”

“Then we better catch up.”

They started off in the direction Zari was headed, unaware that they had a tail.

~~~~

“You okay, man?”

John glanced over to see JJ entering the library. As he did, he flickered for a brief second, appearing as the normal version of that Gary guy. He recoiled in confusion and JJ frowned at him.

“Definitely going to take that as a not okay. Was it that influencer party?”

“Yeah, something happened there. Picked an argument with someone. At least it was an open bar.”

“Exactly why I avoid those things,” JJ snapped his fingers at John just as Zari walked by. “Not even for you, my dearest Zari!”

“You’re worse than Behrad,” Zari stuck her tongue out as she joined them. “So you got into a fight? Spill!”

“It wasn’t a fight. I just disagreed with him peddling lies and exciting conspiracy theorists.”

JJ got a funny look on his face as Zari leaned forward. “What did he look like? Did you get his name? Real or screenname, I can clap him on CatChat.”

“It’s not worth it. I just felt funny around him.”

“Ooooo,” JJ hopped up to squat on his chair. “Was he a demon? An Encore? An alien?”

Zari smirked. “Or did you have a crush on him?”

“But monsters, Zari! Look at all the fugitives we’ve met in the past year!”

“But feelings, JJ. Even John has them.”

Thunk!

              All three of them went quiet at the sound above them. John held a finger to his lips and started looking at the ceiling. JJ climbed out of his chair quietly and started examining the ceiling as well. Zari also was helping and had decided to start recording. Everything was silent, until there was a series of thumps that went across the ceiling and out the door. The trio looked at each other and then ran after the noise.

              They made their way down the halls of the ship, following the sounds into Mick’s room. He wasn’t there, which was probably a good thing. John looked around the room for anything that they could use, but JJ had already found a crowbar and was prying off the cover. As soon as it fell onto the ground, John climbed on Mick’s chair and peering into the open airduct. There was nothing one way, so he turned in other direction.

              He only saw the bottom of the shoe a moment before it smacked him in the face. John dropped out of the airduct and lost his footing on the chair. He felt himself crash downward and another body come tumbling out to land on him. It was gone after two seconds and JJ was helping him onto his feet while Zari screamed about a stowaway.

              John stumbled out the room and saw a flash of green disappear around a corner. He hurried after it until he caught sight of a familiar lime green. When he turned the corner, John stopped to see Mick holding that influencer Gary tightly as he tried to squirm away. He must have followed them back to the Waverider from the party.

“This is all real!” Gary was screaming, his hand still flailing about with a phone in it. “I found proof of…something. If I die, tell my cats I love them!”

John strode forward and grabbed the phone away from him. “This is all fake, just like him.”

Gary glared at John. “It’s not enough to insult my work to my face, but now you do it on my videos?”

“Shut up!” Mick ordered them. “Who are you?”

“Wow, really? Maybe you two are aliens if you don’t know Beyond Our World?”

“If you’re as annoying on it as you are right now, then I’m glad I’ve never heard of it, Larry,” John smirked.

“It’s Gary! Gary Green, you asshole!”

A shrill scream came from down the hallway before Zari ran up to join the crowd. “You don’t know Gary Green?!”

Gary looked up. “Zari Tarazi?”

“Mick, you can let him go,” Zari told him. “Guys, Gary Green is one of the biggest vloggers. He does the most amazing videos for true crime and supernatural stuff, plus a few make-up ones. We did a collab once. It was awesome”

“Zari?” JJ called out. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fantastic!” Zari squealed as JJ came around the corner. “JJ, you have to see this. It’s Gary Green!”

JJ froze once he got a glimpse of the man Mick was now letting go. “Gary?”

Gary gaped up at him, his mouth opening and closing for a few moments before he finally was able to speak. “JJ?”

John turned to him. “Do you know him?”

“Nope!” JJ turned around, but Behrad had come up to join them and he ran into him. “Oh, come on!”

“What’s going on?” Behrad asked. “JJ? Zari? John?”

“He snuck on the ship,” John pointed to Gary. “He’s some celebrity or whatever.”

“I have a very successful brand and channel!” Gary pouted.

“He’s the male version of Zari,” Behrad muttered.

“I know you meant that as rude, but it’s true,” Zari nodded. “But how does he know you, JJ?”

JJ mumbled something.

“What’s that?” John asked.

“I said he’s my brother,” JJ repeated. “This is my brother, Gary.”

Everyone was silent, taking in the information. No one was really sure how to react to the new information connecting JJ to their stowaway.

Zari deciding to snap a selfie with a confused Gary was probably not the most appropriate though.

[breakingbadfics]

Death of the author

CW: Light discussion of politics, mentions of the Alt-Right, and White Supremacists. 

Consider this a “Change of Pace” entry. I’m trying to figure out what the next essay is to be about as well as the eventual long term for this blog. 

I wrote this essay back in mid 2019, long before the idea of this blog would come to mind, it’s been lightly edited prior to posting and added to. and I think this essay shows some of my influences much more heavily than my other writings.

What does My Little Pony and The Matrix have in common?  Death of the Author. 

Death of the Author is not to be confused with “Separating the Artist from the Art,” a self explanatory concept to distance a work from a creator who’s beliefs are more than a little unpleasant, easiest example is acknowledging that, yes,  H.P. Lovecraft was a Mega-racist, however, his contributions to the horror genre have created a base that is nearly ubiquitous with the genre to this day, like wise with Orson Scott Card. this concept in itself is an especially controversial subject, but is not the focus of this piece.

Death of the Author is what allowed The Matrix, a movie with a collection of metaphors about being an lgbt person, and an activist for the rights of yourself and your allies to be grossly misinterpreted as a way to justify being a bigot, the most egregious misinterpretation being that of “The Red Pill Scene.”

In the context of the film, The Red Pill Scene is the part of the traditional heroes story where the hero “accepts the call”, Neo is quite literally making the choice to leave the safe world he’s been living in behind and embark on his adventure that will result in a death and rebirth into being The One who will save humanity. In the now very much understood to be the direct metaphor, it’s a scene in which Neo, the stand-in for a lgbt person, specifically a trans person, is being told by a much older lgbt person “You are trans, you have the choice to embrace it, but regardless of what choice you make from here on out the road ahead is going to be bumpy and rough on you, because the system around you is designed to make sure people like us aren’t able to prosper, and if you join us, you won’t be able to opt out.” 

That is the very understood metaphor that most people accept with the modern understanding after The Wachowski’s came out as Lily and Lana in the “post-matrix trilogy” reality of the real world.

However due to the Moral Neutrality of Death of the Author in other circles the Red Pill(and all the other metaphors in the film) takes on an alternative meaning. And I can be “polite” in my explaing the bad take on how this scene plays out, but just to hammer the point home we’ll get dirty so you can know where the take is coming from, The Red Pill Scene for White supremeacists, and The alt-right (but I repeat myself) is such.  Neo, a disgruntled white person is being told that the world is controlled by soulless machines. Jews, people of color, etx. Everyone around him is mind controlled and can and will attempt to stop him from saving the people smart enough to also realise they’re being held captive by non-whites and save them all. This of course, all being told to him by Morpheus, a black man. So have fun working your head around that. 

This of course the most extreme example being the most ubiquitous, poke around on chan sites and sooner or later you’ll see the phrase “red pill” having been memetically adjusted to mean “hey tell me about this thing” or even more specifically “I already had an opinion about this but either way I want you to confirm my choice.” But I digress. 

These two interpretations are so wildly on the opposite ends of the spectrum that the only commonalities between them is “You will likely need to be violent at some point” 

I’m naturally only covering the two interpretations, the matrix itself has been picked apart by an untold number of people and people interpret it in as many ways as possible in terms of philosophical meaning. That is the nature of Death of The Author. 

Death of the Author also covers in a round-a-bout fashion, selective canon, a subjective acknowledgement of canon elements throughout a long lived franchise- see; Star Wars, Star Trek, the belief that there was never any sequels to The Matrix. This variant of the philosophy allows one to be able to continue interactions with a text, specifically a text that consists of multiple volumes (or contributions, each one made by an individual author) but also deny interactions with parts that they personally dislike. 

More often than not, you can attribute the death of the author to a bad take in a case of fiction, another primary example being Fight Club, often missed for the scathing critique of unhealthy male behaviour and propped up as some sort of moral guideline for how to live your life. Which is again, not to say this is the fault of Death of The Author as a philosophy, it is morally neutral, these bad takes can more often be attribued to the simple fact that unless directly stating it most attempts at satire or parody will have a contingent of people who agree with what is said, not what is meant, and death of the author unfortunately does make that..very easy, for good, or ill. 

Where does My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic fit in with all this?  Well there are certainly alt-right members of the brony fandom who are painfully missing the point, but we’ve already dwelled on the negative enough, so let’s get happy. 

In Episode 1 of Season 1, the first part of a two part pilot, in the background of a shot during a party scene; a pony with a grey coat and blonde mane and tail is seen in the background. This particular pony stood out the most amongst other background characters due to a mistake caused by the animation staff. According to the supervising director at the time, this particular error was spotted after hasbro greenlit the episode for air, and because it amused him he chose not to order a correction so it was left in as a nice little easter egg. 

The nameless background pony would eventually be caught by 4chan among other places and very rapidly developed a following of fans and given a nickname, Derpy Hooves. This particular following and new nickname would echo back to shows staff becoming the name internally referred to by the show’s staff. 

Friendship is magic creator Lauren Faust, who also enjoyed the popularity of the character when asked in an interview would state that a character named Ditzy Doo existed in an unaired episode, that would be implied to be this particular background pony, So naturally now depending on the fan this particular character would be reffered to as either Derpy Hooves, or Ditzy Doo.  

Ditzy Doo would go on to become a recurring easter egg with in the show, something similar to that of “where’s waldo” but with horses. This practice would continue until episode 14 of season 2  where the character would have a set of spoken lines and would be addressed by name. This however resulted in a degree of controversy in which some people expressed concern that the presentation of the character was an offensive attempt at portraying people with mental or physical disabilities. This event resulted in the episode being altered in future airings and the character disappearing from the show for the vast majority of Season 3. Beyond Season 3 the character would continue to appear until season 5 where they would finally have a voiced role in the 100th episode of the show, and then eventually having another speaking role in the christmas special “The best gift ever.”  It is also worth noting that Hasbro never gave her an “official name” with almost all of Ditzy’s merchandise either having no name present, or more often than not a singular image of a muffin in place of a name, even going so far as to have “Muffins” be the credited name she was given in all voiced instances of the show. 

Muffins, Ditzy Doo, or Derpy Hooves isn’t the only case of background characters growing a large following of fans with in the show; a variety of characters have been swept up by the fans, given names and personalities built entirely out of bit gags. Lyra, Bon Bon, Vinyl Scratch, Octavia Melody, and who knows how many more have all been seen in background moments which would be built on by fans and then echo back into the staff to be integrated into the show further. One would say this is fanon but at the end of the day, the writers and show staff had very little more intent with the characters beyond “does this background character look good?” and “Does this bit part character stand out enough to automatically be recognizable for the bit they need to be doing” it is still what I believe to be an example of Death of The Author, an act of choosing to ignore the intended meaning,and giving what amounts to window dressings a full life as fleshed out characters in fan content and in small instances of the show; an interpretation separate from the writers original intent. 

Now the question is does someone need to actively defy the author to participate in The Death There-of? No. I don’t believe so.  In much the same fashion no one need actually be a clan member to inadvertently say or do something that's passive aggressively racist(yes a bit of an extreme, I know) one need not actively defy the author, merely ascribe to an alternate interpretation of a work of fiction. Refer to Fight Club, the film does everything it can with out directly stating “most of the people in Fight Club and later Project Mayhem are bad people, because they were already doing the things Tyler Durden was ascribing to” and almost unilaterally all the bad takes are built around this idea that they’ve achieved the perfect ideal masculine because they’re the “living in the moment, violent psychopath” nihilist the movie is actively condemning. 

The simple fact is that death of the author ultimately, in a grand scale amounts to this; did a writers intent show through hard enough for their intent to be heard? And Subjectively, how much does a person believe in the meaning that they, or the writer themself have imparted into the story? 

[sometimesrosy]

Do you think bellarke not being “confirmed” (like a kiss or a confession) by the end of the series is bad writing/disrespectful to fans? I can appreciate the story without a confirmation but I feel like they almost owe the audience this? Idk what’s your take on this

My take on this is part of why I’m struggling with being part of the 100 fandom right now. The 100 does not owe you confirmation of your ship. They are telling the story of Bellarke, but what they decide Bellarke to be is up to them. If you want to watch the story of Bellarke, it’s up to you to actually PAY ATTENTION TO THE STORY OF BELLARKE, not make up your own.

Everyone seems to feel that they are being disrespected by the show telling the story of the show. And I have a problem with this. I feel like the fandom is disrespecting the story by not letting it BE the story it is. I’m the first person to say that this IS the story of Bellarke, this is what we’ve been watching all this time and they have NOT betrayed that. They have continued to tell Bellarke for 6 seasons and every season they have gotten closer and deeper and more intimate and more epic. The love story that IS Bellarke is far more beautiful to me than what the fandom is demanding. If the story had pulled away from Bellarke at any point, I might have said that it was not going there. That they changed their minds or I was wrong. But it’s not. Every season the Bellarke love gets MORE. And every season when I see who they are at the end, I think it is more beautiful and more intense, even when it is also painful.

If this were a romance genre show, which requires, as part of its genre, that there be a HEA (happy ever after) where the love interests get together, then NOT getting together is a betrayal of the genre/audience/expectations. Although I’d like everyone to remember that Pride and Prejudice never had Elizabeth and Darcy get together, and the first confession resulted in an ABSOLUTE DESTRUCTION of the romance relationship and it wasn’t until the very last scene that we got a marriage proposal and acceptance. 

As this is NOT a romance genre show, and is instead a post apocalyptic science fiction action survival show.... a HEA is NOT a requirement. 

HOW they define Bellarke is UP TO THEM. What the endgame is IS UP TO THEM. Romance can definitely be an element of post apocalyptic science fiction survival shows, but the expectations are not the same for the genre. With the mythic and tragic element to this story, a HEA is ABSOLUTELY NOT GUARANTEED. And for the fandom to require it is an imposition on their part. Sorry. 

We as the fandom don’t get to decide for them how this story should end. And to think we do is rather offensive.  Do you know? That’s where I think the disrespect is. When someone is telling a story, you let them tell it. You don’t demand your version. 

Maybe people consider this perspective to be old fashioned, but this is my belief. Everyone should get the chance to TELL THEIR STORY. And this is what I want to encourage. it’s one of the reasons I love fanfiction because it’s a freedom to write your own story and tell your perspective and desires and fears. The more people who tell their story, the more perspectives we get. And I would defend the right of EVERYONE from beginning teen age writer to broadcast show runner. 

The flip side of the directive to TELL YOUR OWN STORY is that we need to have an audience that listens when people tell their own story, because otherwise what’s the point? It’s not just about seeing yourself in the stories, it is ALSO about learning about other people’s stories, listening when people tell their version of the world. Sharing. being open to other perspective. So that means the flip side is LISTEN TO THEIR STORY.  

When I listen to the story of The 100, and the bellarke story within The 100 story, I do not see a story that is missing anything. I do not see a story that is a betrayal of the audience, the expectations or itself. I see a story where a kiss or confession is NOT the culmination of their love. He just saved her life with NOTHING but his love. How could you possibly be disappointed by that? How could you feel cheated? I guess because fandom is more interested in romance genre which requires kiss/confess/sex? Or soap operas, which require melodrama in regards to romance and sex everywhere? 

Listen. Do I WANT them to kiss? Yes. Of course. Am I frustrated that story goes so slow? Sure. But as I’m watching the show, I can see it is STILL developing and growing and getting deeper. We are not at the endgame. We are building the endgame. I don’t have a guarantee that they will get a HEA. I don’t have a guarantee that it won’t be last minute like P&P. I don’t have a guarantee that their love won’t be tragic and someone sacrifices for the other. I don’t have a guarantee that their love won’t be a particular myth like sun/moon who never get together (although since they are getting closer it would seem that they ARE not in a static orbit but heading for connection, in the case of binary stars I think that might meet in supernova, creation of a new galaxy and all that.)

To top it all off, I don’t like it when people ask me to make judgments on what I haven’t seen yet. And yet, the fandom does that ALL THE TIME. Like, you want me to feel betrayed by an eventuality that hasn’t happened yet and may not ever happened. No wonder you all think JR is your enemy. You’ve got him set up to be betrayer when he hasn’t done anything yet. You’re just PROJECTING that he’ll do that. 

I mean, I’ve seen people say he’s just like D&D and will ruin The 100 the way they ruined GOT, but I don’t see that happening. I see resolutions of storylines that pull on the entire history of the show. I see all those parallels as they bring important elements back into play. I see characters working through their trauma and growing stronger.... none of this happened on GOT. Or, it started to and when they got to the end of GRRM’s story, they dropped it all. Which tells us that the structure and meaning of the story was coming from the author while the flash and dazzle was coming from the showrunners. And when they lost the support of the author, their story fell apart. The 100 has been JR’s baby from the start and the story HIS, and he’s refused to allow other people to push him from his story even when it caused problems. 

But here’s the thing. If GOT had ended with the same people dead and the same people on the thrones, they COULD have made it a satisfactory ending. There’s no way to tell if it works or doesn’t work until you get the story. They COULD have tied it into the prophecies. They COULD have worked an epic tragedy, instead of dropping character arcs and forcing them to BECOME what they were all fighting against. They could have had them facing their pain and growing, even if they lost. That’s why Lyanna’s story and Theon’s story felt right and Dany’s and Jon’s and Jaime’s stories felt wrong. They could have USED the spirituality and magic they set up for Bran to make him a powerful scary king instead of “weird.” (that’s the worst. he’s not weird. he’s magic. do they even LIKE fantasy?) They could have made Sansa be a STARK instead of turning her into a Cersei-Littlefinger hybrid. Lyanna Mormont was a better Stark than Sansa. BUT THEY DIDN’T. The ending could have worked if they had valued the journey they took us on. THAT’S the betrayal. And the funny thing IS, I got all my endgames on that show. Jon and Dany. Arya and Gendry, Brienne and Jaime... got the kisses. got the sex scenes. got the confirmation. Did that stop them from betraying the audience???? NO. BECAUSE BONING IS NOT STORY.

Bellarke is the STORY of The 100. One of them. And we have not been betrayed. To be honest, I felt more hurt by the finales of seasons 2 and 4 than the finales of seasons 5 and 6 which gave us all the fandom outrage. Because in THE STORY Clarke and Bellamy are TOGETHER, closer and more epic than before. To be honest, they are practically one soul in two bodies at this point... they are being WRITTEN as soulmates. This isn’t just being told to us by word of god, you can SEE it. Clarke lived on, for six years with Bellamy’s soul inside of her. And Bellamy lived on with hers inside of him. And when she was body snatched, Clarke could reach out and contact HIM and when she was murdered inside her mind, he REACHED IN AND PULLED HER OUT. 

And y’all are pissed off because Bellamy is still “technically” with someone he can barely have a decent conversation with? And spends no time or energy on? 

I can’t listen to the complaining anymore. The story we HAVE is so good. And everyone is like BUT THE BONING!!!! BETRAYAL IS LACK OF BONING!!!!!

We aren’t misinterpreting this story. There are things we are misinterpreting, like the imagined war between Clarke and Spacekru, or Echo being a bad guy. Or Clarke being a bad guy. We’re imagining a shipwar too. B/E vs B/C. That doesn’t exist. Echo and Clarke are not enemies. They are not opposites. They are not good vs evil. Echo doesn’t have to be bad because Bellarke belongs together. B/E isn’t toxic. Taking Josephine into the woods was not a sign that Bellamy turned his back on his people. But we aren’t misinterpreting that Bellarke is the center of the story.

And I’m not going to say the story is betrayed by projecting my own speculation and blaming it on JR. Not sure anyone can tell their own story if we can’t tell the difference between OUR story and someone else’s story.

[virgilantejustice]

On the edge of the end of the world

I wrote this when i was supposed to be doing composition coursework while listening to a ton of cello music because cellos are the best instrument. So, enjoy!

Word count: ~2100

T/Ws: mentions of death, apocalypse scenario (tell me if i missed any)

Ships: none

Notes: Honestly, ask me any questions you need to, i don't know if this is confusing or not for people who don't play the cello....

------------------------------------------

When it was announced that the world was at an end, Logan’s first thought had been “finally, what took you so long”.

You see, Logan wasn’t a huge fan of ‘the world’.

But, Logan’s second thought had been something more along the lines of, “everyone's leaving”.

And his third thought was, “everyone’s gone”.

Logan usually had a lot of thoughts, far more than just three, all moving around and mixing together on his head like a swarm. But when he watched his parents leave the house with suitcases in tow, when he went to his friends' houses to find them shuttered and empty, when he saw Roman and realized that it was just the two of them now, the two of them against the end of the world, his thoughts had become as sparse and meaningless as the dust on the deserted road.

Deserted, all but for a boy and his cello.

He gripped the cool, wooden neck tightly as he walked. /Everyone had fled, where to Logan simply could not fathom, there was to be no running from the end of the world. But, not to be left out, Logan’s friends had fled with the rest, jumping overboard to escape the sinking ship. But Roman had stayed, as he knew as well as Logan did that they weren't sinking, it was a head on collision that would kill them before they had the chance to drown, no matter how hard they tried.

Perhaps they had gone underground, Logan had heard that many people intended to. But he didn’t understand it. Soon enough there would be no ground to hide beneath. The earth had protected them this long, but now could do no more than a blanket.

After the rest of his family had left so hide in their earthy blanket fort, Logan and Roman went down the road to the local theater. A small-ish building, but plenty big enough for the end of the world to seek out in time.

He had tried to reason with them, tell them that there was no point in running, but they wouldn't listen, and so he had stayed behind. Now it was just him and his cello verses the end of the world, and the theatre seemed an appropriate arena for the final showdown.

The wind blew down the road, whistling and roaring as it was funneled between the rows of houses, picking up dust and blowing Logan’s hair onto his face. He didn’t brush it back into place as he would have liked to, for he held Roman tightly in one hand and his bow in the other. And, besides, he had walked this same path in his head so often that he knew the way.

Logan had promised a long time ago, as soon as he had found out that the world would come to an end, sworn not only to god but to himself, that he would perform before he died. And there wasn’t all that much time left before that was going to happen. He was glad that he had also sworn to himself, as his already tenuous belief in god was dwindling with every brick that fell.

The sky was red with fire and dust and the end of the world, burning like hell had finally risen, like the sun had focused a deadly flare.

Or maybe it was just sunrise.

The last sunrise? The last on earth, certainly, but just because you die and your world ends, the sun will keep on shining, and the other planets certainly won't shed a tear.

There were sirens in the red sky. Blaring sirens, screaming and sighing as they completed their cycle of loud and quiet, high and low, a dog chasing its tail. Logan hoped, as, yes, he had resorted to hope, that he could create better music than their symphony of metal droning.

Logan stood, a lone wolf in a world of dogs, with only a cello to fend off the pack.

He would take those odds, he decided, almost as if he had a choice.

If anyone else had seen the look that was on Logan’s face, they would have called it grim and set, determined and driven. They would have seen the tears in his eyes and the tightness of his lips.

But there was no one left to see the look on Logan’s face.

Although they would have been right.

-

Logan looked out over the seats from the stage. He estimated that there were about two hundred. He doubted that there were enough people left in the county to fill them all. That’s what happens when you're right next to the end of the world.

And so they remained empty.

Logan placed Roman gently on the ground, carefully, as if the end of world would spare a cello, and slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

He didn’t need a phone anymore. Who was there to call? Who was there to call him? Patton had been ‘evacuated’ days ago. Logan really wanted wherever he ended up to be at least marginally safer than a crumbling concert hall on the edge of the end of the word, but he knew that no matter how far you ran, you'd still be on earth.

And Virgil. Virgil seemed to have run away with the rest. He had always said that they would stick it out together, go down together, but you simply cannot deny the call of safety when it is so loud. At least, Virgil couldn’t, nor could he be expected to.

And so there was no one to call. And no one to call him.

His phone landed on the floor of the stage and he ground the heel of his shoe into it. The glass cracked, then it crunched, then it gave completely and turned to dust. Glittering dust and the metal organs and innards that was all that really composed a phone. Logan smiled a grim smile, on the inside at least.

Turning away from the end of that little bit of his world, the bit that he had ended himself, Logan fetched a stool. It had to be a stool. Not a chair. A stool, that was what he had always been told. He found it in the wings, it had a simple wooden circle on three slightly spindly wooden legs. Probably for the backstage crew, but now it was center stage as Logan picked up his cello and his bow and put them together.

Roman's voice sounded thin and reedy as it echoed around the cavernous ceiling of the theatre. Logan scowled at his shaking hands, as he knew that his fear would only get in the way.

But, on the other quivering hand, extra vibrato.

He began to play again, and Roman sang bold and proud with the shaking of his hands adding an ironic warmth into the sound.

Harness the fear and make it work for you, Logan thought. If you can't beat them, control them.

As Logan played, it would have been easy to assume that he was improvising, spewing out one note after the other with little to no plan. But improvisation wasn’t exactly Logan’s strong suit.

In actuality, he could simply play from memory. Muscle memory to be precise. He wasn’t quite sure what the next note would be, but he knew that his hands would find it if he just didn’t think too much.

That also wasn’t his strong suit. But, his unwieldy fingers found a way, and Roman sang.

Logan felt himself sway slightly from side to side. He had never been one to obey the marking of espressivo that found itself on his music far too often, but he supposed that now was as good a time as any to explore the romantic era.

He raised his elbows, as he had always been told to do, and pushed even harder still, distilling gold from the aluminum of the four strings, as Roman began to sing more beautifully than Logan had ever managed to coax from him.

The bracelet that hung from his wrist clattered against Roman’s body with each sweep down his neck into fourth position. His teacher had always told him to take it off before he began to play. But his teacher wasn’t here. And so each high note, each harmonic, each glissando was accompanied by a small clicking sound as the metal beads flittered against Roman's shoulder.

He willed his hands to work faster still, his fingers to push harder until they turned white and ached like he had frozen them in ice. But they worked and pushed and played more beautifully than anyone had ever heard him play, more beautifully than anyone ever would.

A part of him was bitter for that, but he had no time to dwell on it, no time at all. All that mattered was that they played. Boy and cello, playing as one.

A scuttling came from somewhere behind him but he didn’t turn around to see. Earth was a sinking ship, and the rats were still aboard.

Something fell on Logan’s right. Not close enough to hit him, but close enough to startle him into dropping his bow. He picked it up again without so much as a word and looked it over. There was a scratch on one side. Logan didn’t much care, so he began to play once again. Nothing as common as a collapsing building was going to stop them playing.

The end of the world was going to have to face them itself if it wanted them dead.

And so he played and played, closing his eyes so that he didn’t stop playing as the ceiling collapsed around him.

When his eyes were open, he was facing death. But when they were closed, he had some extra percussion from the crashing down of his little, temporary world. So he kept them closed and led his orchestra in their cello concerto.

When it seemed the world could hold no more of his music, crumbling as it was, Logan stopped, drawing out the final note on a perfect cadence and letting the sting continue to vibrate, unwilling to stop Roman from singing so soon.

There were so many gaps in the surviving walls that they looked like lace, and Logan could see the red sky, bleeding onto the reddened earth.

“The world is dead, Roman,” he said, licking his dry lips and shaking his sore hands. “Am I to die with it?”

You see, Logan didn’t much want to die yet, but of course: “Only a for considers oneself above death,” he swallowed, “perhaps I'm more foolish than I like to believe.”

Logan blinked and squinted a little (absolutely not holding back tears, and offended at the suggestion) as he placed his hands back on his cello’s body to rest.

“I sound like you,” Logan continued, gazing down at Roman. “All these unnecessary decorations.”

He sounded a little like these words should have been spoken with a laugh, even just a small, dry one. But he didn’t laugh. Not even at the fact that he was speaking to his own cello while drowning in the apocalypse. Instead, Logan ran a hand softly over Roman’s head, letting his fingers fall into the gentle rises and falls and cervices of the carved curl.

‘Unnecessary’ was such a subjective word. The curls and cutouts that covered Roman’s head and bridge and sound holes may not change the sound, but all of this talk of necessity called into question the necessity of music itself, and therefore the integrity of the artform.

“Perhaps,” Logan told Roman, “if the purpose of music is to beautiful, the tools with which one makes it should be beautiful also.”

As another section of the ceiling feinted and collapsed in on the building, a new ray of sunlight shone onto the stage, and Roman preened in it, glowing and reaching out to his audience.

Logan smiled, just a little, just the tiniest little bit, and he placed his hand back on the strings.

This time he played something different. His hands glided up and down and his fingers moved with far more grace than ferocity.

Logan smiled at the end of the world as his gentle melody reached out, as Roman reached out, to where the other walls of the theatre once stood, long fallen with no heed from either of them. Roman reached out a hand, or was it Logan, and together they welcomed the end with suppressed tears and smile alike, and a song in their outstretched fingers.

---------------------------------------------

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed): @stop-it-anxiety @combine-the-kitchens @randomavengersquotes @soakinforsif @uwillbeefoundtonight @hopeoncelivedhere

[yooweebaloowee-blog]

“How long, God?” said Habakkuk.

This is it! COVID19, and a week of isolation (among other things, as you would soon find out) has led me to this: A BLOG! So keep your Pickpocks and Sneepchats – I am a man of culture!.. who will now rant his heart out like an everyday highschooler. But trust me, with a title like that? You know it’s about to get... juicy. To prelude how this’ll go, let me just say, before everything else, “let’s stay calm”. That sounds silly, because never in the history of calming down has anyone calmed down when told to calm down, but trust me, there’s a point to all this. And my hope is that we can all reason with each other, see where other people are coming from, and, God-willing, be able to understand each other a little better.

This will also be shared on Facebook, and with that, I urge people to ENGAGE in civil conversation with people who differ in beliefs and opinions. I’m not a fan of echo chambers where everything you hear is everything you agree with. Read about confirmation bias if you have extra time. I’m sure we all do.

Oh, by the way, this is going to be about politics. Remember when I said it’s about to get juicy? 

Keep in mind, this is a blog, not a sermon. I’m no pastor, I’m just a person with words, and a LOT of frustrated questions. I write all these knowing that at some point, I could be wrong, as I am always prepared to be. Not the first time as well, but take it as “I am willing to be wrong in public, so as to be an example to others”.

And with that, let’s dive right in:

“Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. Consequently, he who rebels against authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves.” 

If this is your first time reading those words in that order, congratulations, you are now acquainted with the first few words of Romans chapter 13. These words are set in stone, and by all means, uncontestable. 

But let’s move over to the book of Habakkuk, where that question in the title came out. To summarize, Hab’s just going ham– laments of violence everywhere, evil deeds being done in broad daylight, the law paralyzed, the wicked outnumber the righteous, justice perverted, you know, a bygone age. Whatever do you mean it sounds eerily familiar and similar to current world events? That’s crazy-talk.

(A small spoiler on how that book ended: Habakkuk’s fine. So that’s a relief.) Alright, hear me out: is there a way to respectfully prod government leaders to action? The common argument against that is “don’t say anything bad or disrespectful of them, they are anointed leaders” (see Romans 1 above). And I must confess that I am guilty of political satire (because that slogan in the congress? Comedy gold! Imagine them pasting that thing together with Elmer’s glue. And the Enrile memes? Never not funny– that man is Jurassic!) Guilty as charged, humor has always been my defense mechanism. But besides that is a desire for accountability. I follow the rules and pay my taxes just like everybody else – granted, I have never voted. Although, I sleep soundly at night knowing I did not put anybody in power, regardless of what you think of our leaders.

But tell me what you think of my stance: I treat the government as I would my uncle. He’s there as an authority figure over me, I wish we hung out more, I get a few laughs making fun of him from time to time, I get a few gifts once in a while, the works. Now say he’s driving, and I’m a passenger in the car, and he’s a bit... inebriated. Head swaying, cross-eyed, shlurs hish wordsh shomething like thish.

Don’t I get a say in the matter? I mean, to go full-circle, the law is about to disobey the law! Yes, pray for safety, but to stay silent on the off-chance he gets offended and go “Shumunod ke neleng kashi!”? (”Jush do ash i shay!” for all my English-speaking friends) Or, say that he started smoking, which situationally, is more or less higher risk. Is it wrong for me to tap him on the shoulder and ask him to stop?

I know I’m not alone in saying this: taking part in speaking out is one of the few ways we can demand accountability and be involved in this democracy. Say what you will of that form of government, Winston Churchill definitely did. He said, “democracy is the WORST form of government, except for all other forms that have been tried from time to time.” I thank God for the freedom to express our faith – that’s democracy and not a divine monarchy, where our leaders are infallible royal deities who could do no wrong and immune to criticism.

We are not about to write signs, print tarpaulins and protest in the streets – that isn’t the way, at least for me and others I know. I have been labeled a rebel, while others I know have been called worse, but I think rebellion starts when you stop following the law, evade your taxes, resort to violence, speed through a red light – you can even consider calling politicians names as rebellion. (though to call Enrile REALLY old is not really an insult – it’s an observation.) 

Again, this is a blog, not a sermon. Feel free to disagree or try to change my mind, I still love you <3. And remember: Echo chambers only cultivate confirmation bias.

You may say, “but this isn’t about you, man” And to that, I say I know, and I hope that it wouldn’t be about me, because that’s Ad Hominem If I ever heard one.

Now, on a serious note: people are dying out there. We all have friends in the frontlines that are tackling this pandemic face-to-face, and to hear about face masks paid for by hospitals in full, but going to politicians’ pockets is nothing short of infuriating. Billions took out of the budget that could’ve been used to help, VIP testing for senators with the gall to take time writing that slogan, time that could’ve been used to help out the needy. Forgive me for being frustrated to the brim, I’m not the type to go lalalala, I’m not hearing this. This will not destroy us, and like Habakkuk, it will end well. But to sit tight and say “at least I’m safe” while others are suffering doesn’t sit well with me. I pray I never lose sympathy. If anything I pray for more compassion to move and lend a helping hand. I’ll end with my favorite Bible phrase: “The Lord is good, and His love endures forever.” But the politicians? I have some opinions. I’m about to get attacked, aren’t I?

[sol1056]

anons on the dragon prince

Yes, we all know the comparison points, so I’m skipping those to focus solely on tDP. Alright, starting from the top.

It does speak volumes [...] that tDP has seemingly (and unless proven otherwise in s2 by a fan theory coming true) killed one of a major CoC after only 3 episodes [but] the fandom, and PoC fans more importantly, still trust Ehasz/Wonderstorm and the story to not let them down ...

I was talking to someone the other day who DM’d me about finally seeing tDP, who said something along the lines of “I feel like I can breathe.” Which isn’t that far off what @ptw30 and I were telling each other, when we binge-watched tDP the night of its release. 

First episode, we were both a little ennnhhh over the animation style. Second episode, we barely noticed that anymore. Third episode, everything went to hell in a handbasket and yet our shared reaction was something along the lines of, “I feel like I can settle in, and let the story go where it’s going. I don’t have to stress about this. The writers have got this.” 

Think of being a passenger when the driver isn’t sure where they’re going. They slow repeatedly to check road signs, show an ‘ehhhh oh right no no we’re fine’ expression (or say it out loud), or switch lanes back and forth unexpectedly. Eventually you’re going to give serious thought to pulling out your phone and offering to navigate, just so someone in the car has a clue. Failing that, you end up worrying whether you’ll get there on time (or at all). 

Not once did tDP give me the remotest worry about where it’s going. Even if it seems counterintuitive that we could get to a Manhattan happy ending by way of a Brooklyn character death, the story must have a good reason. We can relax and enjoy the trip. 

It’s hard to pin down what creates that trust for an audience, because it’s so many things. It’s a combination of setups and payoffs. It’s getting emotional beats at regular intervals. It’s having questions raised and getting just enough answered that you don’t feel like the story is covering for not actually knowing and/or hoping you won’t notice it’s making things up as it goes along. 

More behind the cut: tDP’s handling of race, who’s right vs wrong, and whether tDP’s storytelling can/will surpass AtLA.

I rewatched The Dragon Prince recently and it's amazing how carefully they show racism in only 9 episodes [where other shows failed in multiple seasons]. You can see what happens when people in charge care not only about their own characters, but also the audience following their story.

It’s a very thoughtful story, in the sense that the writers clearly put a great deal of thought into each character’s perspective and place. General Amaya is a walking poster child for How To Do This Shit Right Yo, as is Ava. It makes sense that no less attention was paid to the potentially complicated issue of racism, and how viewers’ real-world experiences would impact and layer on top of what the story is trying to do. 

I mean, tDP could’ve decided that Amaya would be deaf... and then proceed to make up its own sign language. Or that magic could (and should) heal disabilities. When the story did neither, it told me the writing team is aware stories don’t exist in a vacuum: that disabled viewers have also been waiting to see themselves on screen, as characters with agency, treated with respect. 

(The lack of subtitles for Amaya may’ve confused those of us who don’t know ASL, but it was absolutely a gift to those who do. It was saying: hey, this is just for you. All those times you’ve missed something that hearing people take for granted? Now’s your turn to be the one in the know. And come on, that’s just awesome.)

Will tDP stumble at some point? Sure. Stories and people are complex things, and the world is a thousand times more so. It’s not the stumbling that bothers me. It’s when a story is thoughtless, because it won’t even recognize its stumbles, let alone fix them. 

I really struggle with liking the show, specifically because it seems to take the stance that the elf girl was "right" to betray the other elves (leading to the slaughter of her entire team). beyond the pain of the ribbon, she doesn't seem to show any sadness or remorse, and then it seems that the human characters are quick to condemn the elf assassins, instead of the king's slaughter of the dragon king. what writing purpose does this serve?

It serves to prompt exactly what you’re doing: asking questions.

The story is full of conflicting interpretations of events, actions, reactions, and motivations if you just think twice. The humans may fear the elves, and do their best to prevent the elves from succeeding --- but Harrow acknowledged explicitly that it’s not as though the elves don’t have just cause. Harrow wasn’t going to go down easy, but I saw no condemnation on his part upon the elves’ retaliation for human crimes. 

Callum argued with Harrow over why Harrow couldn’t just ‘make peace.’ When Rayla shows Runaan the egg and demands Runaan call everything off, isn’t she effectively arguing the same thing? Additionally, Rayla went into the castle determined to make up for her failing; if she’d succeeded in her mission (especially with Callum’s misdirection), it’d be a very short story, indeed. Instead, the three protagonists end up unified in their hope that this could prevent any further bloodshed. 

Note that I say ‘further’ because what is done, and out of their control, is done. Rayla didn’t act out of a wish to betray; when she choose not to assassinate the prince, she acted out of a hope there could be peace. When the first ribbon falls off and the messenger-arrow flies overhead, Rayla’s assumption makes sense, based on those two details: her team achieved at least one of their goals. We don’t know their fate (other than Runaan), but it also sets up a later plot-point where Rayla discovers the team did not, in fact, all return intact. 

For that matter, by the time she learns those details (and concludes who won and who lost), she’s already befriended the princes. From the very first scene, it’s clear Rayla isn’t cut out for this assassination business. She’s incapable of seeing targets. As Ezran later notes, she sees people as, well, people, even when they’re strangers. Is it really so surprising that she’d waffle even more, once those strangers have become something nearing friends, or at least allies? 

So she chooses to keep silent, and her motivation is wonderfully complex, from a writer’s perspective. She wants peace, and believes returning the egg will do that, so reminding the two princes of her role in their father’s death would alienate them, and put her desires at risk. She likes the princes by that point, and doesn’t want to hurt them with such news. And she’s also feeling guilty for the part she played, especially knowing her secret (not just of failing her mission but of preventing anyone else from succeeding) is probably already known. 

Most of that thought process seems to get decided early in the journey. After that, Rayla goes through all the stages as she realizes the consequences of failing to fulfill a sacred oath: anger, bargaining, grief. At the end, Rayla weighs the two options --- keeping her hand, vs killing someone innocent of any crime --- and decides her hand is a small sacrifice in comparison. 

(Note that thematically, this is echoed in Ava’s story. Ava’s paw was caught in a trap, and escaping came at the cost of her paw. Yet Ava remains perfect as she is, and it’s only other people who require Ava appear to be whole. Part of the reason for going up the mountain is to save the egg, but Rayla also implies she wishes she could save her hand, too. Ava’s story is telling us that such a disability doesn’t and shouldn’t render Rayla broken or useless.) 

Alongside that, the boys don’t seem to have fully put together their father’s role in the current situation. I think Callum might have (in a roundabout way), but not so much for Ezran. It’s a process, though. First we’re shown the princes were raised with a bias they’ve never had reason to question, about elves being bloodthirsty monsters. The story lets Rayla call them on it and express her hurt, and the boys are remorseful. 

The story also doesn’t position Callum (as human) as always knowing the rightness of things; hell, it takes Rayla calling him a mage before he even realizes the meaning of what he’s done. The story also shows the boys are eager to learn (and willing to question their assumptions), when Callum asks Rayla what it’s like in her country.

By the end of S1, both princes have worked their way through several points: from ‘all elves are bad’ to ‘Rayla is the one exception’ to ‘maybe elves aren’t the monsters we were told they are.’ The next logical step is for them to begin questioning their father’s actions. Like you, the story is leading them into questioning things that they took for granted when the story began. 

That’s the purpose of creating a story where perspective shifts with each new character: the story is rewarding you for digging deeper.    

A story that doesn’t want those questions raised --- that isn’t prepared to grapple with them --- would tell you from the get-go, “elves are plain evil, that’s all there is to it.” Or, “humans are always good and their actions are righteous.” Any hint of a conflicting perspective would eventually be revealed as false within the story, or a minor oversight outside the story. 

Where tDP is so well-crafted is that it’s given everything enough layers and conflicts that poking at the story reveals more underneath. All you have to do is give it a bit of thought, and you can see a larger picture, and that larger story’s view may be tilted from what you’ve seen so far, if not flipped outright (or flipped back again). That’s the beauty of a large cast where each character has their own motivation, agency, reasons and beliefs and assumptions: there’s always another side to things.

That’s what makes a story truly rich and deep. Not the worldbuilding, not the complexity of the final solution, not the number of product placements or jokes or high-octane fight sequences. It’s characters with individual perspectives and motivations, agreeing and conflicting per their own purposes, and each one seeing themselves as the hero of their own story.  

...what is it about TDP that makes it a good show for you? What is it you like about it, what about it pulls you in? And would you say it's on par or close to the quality of Avatar?

I think my answers above have probably already covered your question, but I’ll add this: I think tDP has potential to not just be ‘on par’ with Avatar but to leave it far, far behind. 

I mean, AtLA is already ten years old. In 2003, Ehasz’ credits consisted of three freelance episodes for two shows, and one episode as a staff writer. That’s it. That he catapulted from that to head-of-story for AtLA speaks to a definite talent --- but of course he’d get better from there, with ten intervening years of continuing to hone his craft. 

I’d say there are two places where it’s most apparent: exposition and humor. While I (mostly) like AtLA, the exposition could be somewhat clunky. It needed to be in there, but it wasn’t always quite as deft as I would’ve liked, in terms of combining information with characterization. 

The writing in tDP is far superlative in that regard. We get exposition, yes, but it's not delivering answers so much as answering one thing to raise ten more questions. There are almost no “as you know Bob” exchanges. When Rayla talks about what her country is like, it’s exposition, but it’s also a wonderful characterization moment; Rayla’s love for her world shines through, along with a certain ambivalence about her place in that world.

The other place Ehasz has improved a thousand-fold is his humor. One of the things I hated most about AtLA was its use of bathos: taking a serious moment and turning on a dime to crack a joke and trivialize the moment. (Sokka was the worst offender, but no character was immune.) As AtLA went on, the story scaled back on that, but it still raised its head often enough to make me wince.

In contrast, tDP’s humor is seamlessly organic. When Rayla yells, “I’m not falling for that flashing frog trick again!” she’s deadly serious, but that makes the bizarre phrase even funnier. When Gren translates Amaya’s sarcasm and has a beat in which he’s clearly trying to find a family-friendly way to translate “bullshit”... that beat is the joke. We don’t need someone gesticulating wildly to tell us it’s funny. 

At the same time, Ehasz is clearly unafraid, now, to let the serious moments be. He doesn’t trivialize the characters’ emotions with a joke; the story isn’t afraid we’ll see it as cheesy or asinine -- as less -- when it’s being sincere. 

As Carol Burnett once put it, comedy is tragedy at a distance. What tDP is doing isn’t comedy in that sense, where the characters themselves (as AtLA often did) use humor to distance themselves. Instead, it’s humor most often in one of three modes. 

One is when a character intends to crack a joke: Soren and Claudia jibing each other, or Callum attempting to lighten everyone’s spirits. This is kept relatively light, so it’s not a constant thing, as if too much levity is to be feared.

The second is simply a witty delivery, like Rayla when her temper’s up. She doesn’t deliver the line “I’m habsolutely hurious” as if she expects a laugh; she is angry, after all. Or when Soren decides to let Callum 'win’ the bout: Soren’s melodramatic as all get out, but he’s not mocking Callum, for whom impressing Claudia is a big deal. Soren’s dramatic words and over-acting are actually a wonderfully compact characterization that tells us a whole lot in a single scene of what someone should expect when Soren tries to ‘help’. 

In the penultimate episode, when Rayla accepts the consequences of her choice and decides she’s okay with paying, this is a significant emotional beat. Her conclusion is... well, it makes sense given her thoughts to this point. 

But it’s also a blunt and rather startling way to put it. Again, this isn’t cracking a joke to create distance from emotion. It’s wittier than that. 

Ezran’s shock as he registers the words is barely two frames. Any longer and it’d be overplayed. Between basically saying someone's friendship is worth a body part, and Ezran’s half-beat of shock, the combination definitely startled a laugh out of me. 

And here’s the thing: in AtLA, one of the two would’ve cracked a joke. The story would’ve backed away from what really, underneath, is a pretty phenomenal admission. Not just of friendship, but also of how Rayla herself has changed so significantly between when she made that oath, versus where she sits now. 

Ezran’s response is both funny (again, in a witty sense) but also just as heartfelt. It’s also extremely telling in terms of Ezran’s characterization. 

The one character most likely to crack a joke --- Callum --- doesn’t always, either. In fact, sometimes he’s remarkably vulnerable and honest in ways Sokka, his spiritual predecessor, wasn’t allowed to be. At the same point that Ezran and Rayla are having their heart-to-heart, Callum’s admitting freely that he doesn’t have immense power; he just has a swirly stone that does the work for him. He doesn’t make a joke of Ellis’ compliment, nor make fun of himself. 

Ellis’ line was delivered seriously, as she has every reason to believe her perspective is true. If Callum were to joke, he’d be mocking her sincerity, and the story is willing to respect that Callum is someone who responds to sincerity with sincerity of his own. 

In a word, tDP is unafraid of its own heart.