#the book I'm reading has pretty clear definitions. but I can't make anything work with that

[running-in-the-dark]

god I'm literally just so stupid. I can't think the way you have to think to write a scientific paper. I can't. I try and I try and it just does not work. I can't do this.

[joyburble]

So, we see Donfang Qingcang reading on screen several times, and I think it's an important character message.

On encountering a problem, in episode 4, that can't be addressd by violence, what is the first thing our character does? He RTFMs. He sends Shanque to fetch the Fucking Manual, and he Reads It. What. In fact, they both read it, at least until they find the right bit.

Iconic. And adorable.

Definitely much less surprising in a Chinese genre than it would be in any English-language genre. But this section is so spectacular I want to give it a lot of weight.

The scroll is extremely long. He baulks, for a second, at the length,

but this, his face says, cannot possibly defeat him: he backs himself (I love it) and gets down to work.

It's illustrated. I'd love to hear from someone who can read any part of the text. He engages in detail with the content.

He continues in episode 5, having made some progress, and still backing himself to work out what it all means.

He takes it out on the balcony to study it by daylight. When his plans don't succeed at first, he doesn't reject the information, he thinks about it harder and compares it with the data.

Then something interesting happens: after making Orchid's tummyache better, he sits down, and without any stated reason tries to read something else, which looks like a completely normal book:

He can't focus because she's so sad, but we get a glimpse of the corner of a title label. When he puts it down, we can see it's a paperback stitched in the traditional Chinese manner.

It could be anything, but looks a reasonable size for a novel. There are also some other books on the table. Maybe they're technical works from Xiao Lanhua's library, and he's just bored and curious?

This wouldn't be as clear if it was the only example, or if we saw other characters repeatedly reading. But I don't think we do.

In episode 18 post-whump we learn again that what he does to relax and distract himself, when in pain and/or wanting attention, is read a book. It's a slim volume with a vertical format and a pretty, embellished cover. Perhaps a book of poems?

In Episode 26, now knowing he is loved, he is reading for fun again, with no explanation asked or given. Another sewn book, but in this case it has a hard cover with a shiny and colourful design. What could it be? Who knows? It seems to be making him smile a little.

The message we are getting, here, is that what he does when he wants to relax and enjoy life, is read. We’re supposed to understand that in his natural disposition, minus his father’s crimes and his profession of violence, he is a gentleman and a scholar. He is curious. He is capable of handling new information. He has brains and capabilities and ingenuity. He has a big ego, but he can put it in the engine room, not the driving seat. It's a gently-delivered message, but I think it contributes a lot to our perception of the character.

In dream-world episode 31, he is reading a scroll with Xiao Lanhua. Are they reading a story to each other? Doing the voices?

So apparently in his imagination it's a bonding activity too: you can read together with a person you love and share your reactions. A bit like you and I are doing now.

Finally, I think they published this behind-the-scenes shot for a reason (thank you @moonsupremesblog, and I'm sorry this probably should have been a reblog of this post but I got too far in before I remembered)

We can see it's Dylan Wang referring to a script, but we do a double-take because it's totally in character, the lighting, composition, and depth-of-field intentionally reinforce that effect, and we have to look at the plastic cover and the little place-tags to realise it isn't.

[gffa]

Hi! Loved your posts a lot. I love Nightwing and redhood .But the thing that annoyed a hell out of me is the way fandom jason is potrayed . Jason stans always want jason to be Nightwing 2.0.Their question is always like why jason isn't respected among heroes like dick? Why jason doesn't lead the titans like dick? .Was jason as good looking as dick?. Jason should be well suited to be spy than dick . Jaybabs is better than dickbabs.Dick is worst friend to roy. Jason should be Tim role model not dick.sometimes it confuses me if they both have same personality with different names. What's your thoughts on this.

I want to step carefully with this answer because I don't want to make it seem like Jason fans are a monolith (they're most definitely not, half of my Cool People in this fandom are the most excellent DC fans you'll ever meet and Jason is Their Guy!!!) or that I'm talking about anything other than a very specific subset of fans. And that any time I say "Jason fans", it is specifically about the subsection who falls into this, not the whole of his fandom!! And, as a caveat, I'm only talking about my experiences in Jason fandom--of which I do consider myself a part of!--but that someone else who is deeper into Jason fandom than I am may have COMPLETELY different experiences than what either you or I have experienced! And, to be clear, I will point the finger in any direction, that every Bat has a subset of fans that is deeply frustrating, Tim fans have it, Damian fans have it, Dick fans have it, Bruce fans have it, etc. Every one of them has that group of fans that I go ??? over. But also I think I should be clear in that I think we should try to approach other corners of fandom with empathy, because a) we're all annoying nerds to someone else as well, that's just what fandom is and b) this fandom is hostile enough over comic book characters of all things, I'm going to try to limit the amount of gasoline I throw on the fire. ;) I think what causes a lot of fanon Jason in a certain subset of fandom comes from a mix of - Not a lot of regular appearances/his own book/GOOD appearances in his own book/a consistent characterization in those books - A lot of people read more fic than they do the comics - People naturally want their babygirl to have nice things, that's a pretty human response - Jason was kind of created to be a Dick Grayson clone in the first place, in some ways, so it's a natural extension

Jason fans have it rough in canon because he is all over the place, he's not written consistently, so half of the time he's written as the woobie, half of the time he's written as two steps away from being full villain, and it feels like every author has a different take on how Jason sees himself or what he wants. It's hard to agree on what Jason's character is like/what the point of him in the larger comics landscape is, because even the canon can't agree on that. So, then you throw in all these epically long fics that are written by extremely talented authors, who have a consistent take within their own writing, which explores Jason's issues in a way that feels like it has a lot more depth and vulnerability to him, and it's easy to go, yeah, okay, comics are kind of thin, but now I have this strongly developed sense of him in my mind! And when comics don't match that, when Jason is meaner or more of a villain or less cool in the comics, because the comics didn't do all that character work, the fic did, it becomes easy to go, "This isn't what Jason deserves, he deserves to have his issues explored better!" And, like. Jason does deserve better than what Nu52 gave him. It's a thing that a lot of fic vs comics have--like, there's a subset of Tim's fandom that writes him as the most delicate character ever (there's a lot of fic that explores Tim's vulnerabilities, I am not talking about those!!!) and, guess what, has to make Dick a terrible person in those fics as well, like the whole "Dick tried to send Tim to Arkham" is a straight up lie about what happened, but how many of us have still come across it? Which I think comes from that Dick Grayson is a character that you just kind of can't remove from the foundational Batman narrative and mythos, like you can't remove Bruce and still get what you need for the set-up--but Bruce occupies the space of "Dad" for the characters, so he has a very different, defined place in the Robin Of Choice's life. Dick, on the other hand, you can't just lift him out--he created Robin, he was the one that dragged Bruce out of the dark in the first place and created the role of Adopted Kid Who Bruce Is Complicated About, and still occupies that space very strongly. Even when he hasn't been Robin in a long time, his shadow casts extremely long, because honestly I'll die on the hill that I think he's everyone's favorite Robin to this day. Bruce? Yeah. Jason? Yeah. Tim? Yeah. Damian? Even if he never met Robin!Dick, I'd bet he's still say Dick was his favorite Robin. Superman? Explicitly said it in a comic.

(And I feel like there's an element that can be explored on how Dick also set the expectation of how to grow out of being Robin--he moved on to being Nightwing, so we expect that of the other Robins. I've been complaining forever that Tim needs to be allowed to finally do this, to step out of being Robin and not just be Red Robin, but to find his own unique thing. And, honestly, that probably does look more like Nightwing than not. I think there's an expectation that eventually Damian will realize that he doesn't want to be Batman and will instead be something else--or at least that it's a strong possibility. Which again looks a lot more like Nightwing than it maybe should. Because what else do you do with characters when you want to establish them out on their own? So Jason should follow that same path, right? He's kind of halfway onto it, with being Red Hood now, it's just that Red Hood has such a complicated history with how many people he's murdered, so what other options should there be? And patterning him after Nightwing, just as his Robin was patterned off of Dick's Robin in a lot of ways, could be a natural step forward for him there, too.) So, the specter of Dick Grayson hangs over the role and the Bat-son's place in Bruce's life--two things that are big issues in Jason's life. Then you add in that Jason was basically created to replace Dick Grayson exactly, like you can't even tell the difference in half of the panels of Jason's time as Robin if you don't already know. Then you add in that, to try to flesh out Roy's character, they gave him Roy and Kory as friends, two people who were Dick's friends first. And that makes sense--who else would you have as Jason's friends, given his general age? The Justice League is too old for him, Young Justice is too young for him, the only major team in his age bracket are the Titans--characters he does have some connection with, via Roy and Kory. And it's a natural question of, well, why didn't Jason lead them, too? Because Dick lead a team, Tim lead a team, it felt like a thing Robin was supposed to do, to the point that, when Dick introduced Damian to the Teen Titans, he automatically assumed he would lead (well, that's also just Damian XD) because that's what Robins do, why shouldn't Jason, too? So, I see where all of it comes from and understand the appeal--it's a lot more fun than the canon for Jason can be at times and feels like it understands his character better and fanon Jason is a lot more likeable and there's often times a lot that's explore that is really, really good character stuff. I think a lot of Dick's characteristics get ported over to Jason because there's just not as much else established for him in the canon, whether friends or a solidified narrative presence or even a consistent characterization, and Dick's a fun character, he has a rich history of friends and complicated dynamics with characters, like his relationship with Bruce is ridiculously fun to dig into, his relationship with Jason can actually be really interesting, his relationship with Tim is both adorable and has some nice crunch, his relationship with Damian is heart-wrenching--who wouldn't want a character with a wealth of dynamics and characterization to step into? Especially when you go back to canon and Jason's borderline a villain who isn't justified in killing people but still does it anyway, whose trauma is not getting explored in a way that's as satisfying as fanon's version of him is, because canon Jason is a lot more of a hot mess and stepped over the line, while fanon Jason tends to be more righteous and still on the right side of the line. (Or at least intended to, there's a lot of "Jason should be allowed to kill people and not be a bad guy for it." out there.) I think this is why I get a lot of Jason fans reblogging my comics posts about canon who yell at me for liking garbage comics when, guys, I'm just reacting to what's actually on the page for Jason.

Jason is a character who has this massive fandom that has been built up around the potential of the character, much of which had to be borrowed from Dick because that's the only really available options and because his central relationship (the one with Bruce) has so many parallels to Dick's relationship (with Bruce) and because Dick being who he is means that he's very easy to like (Dick's not perfect and I'm certainly biased here, but I do genuinely think that Dick is pretty easy to like as a person) and because he has such a rich history of dynamics and relationships that fans see as being really fun to explore, if only Jason had had those relationships instead. I suspect a lot of it comes down to that there's this massive fandom for Jason--fic, posts about him, fanart of him, headcanons for him, etc., throw a rock in fandom and you'll hit a popular post that has Jason as their babygirl Blorbo--and comics themselves don't often match that and comics fandom are pretty notorious for hating their source material/throwing it out in a way that's borderline assumed default MO, so Jason fans aren't any different from people complaining that this comic or that comic coming out right now are garbage. Anyway, that's been my experience. It's not that Jason fandom doesn't do unique things with Jason's character (his death is different from what Dick's experienced, his relationship with Bruce does often come in different flavors, etc.) but the places where they overlap are ones that I can understand why it happens, even if I often personally find that it doesn't match up to who he is in the source material now and feel like there's a lot of really good, crunchy unexplored angles for a character who has been deeply hurt, but went over the line about it, like that's why the recent short story in Beast World Tour: Gotham went so hard for me, because it felt like it had teeth and claws in a way that I've been wanting for Jason for a long time.

[eccentric-nucleus]

the only story in the progression fantasy/litrpg/etc space that i've really enjoyed and kept up with has been super supportive, tho that's with the caveat that the first sixty chapters are basically a self-contained novel that is pretty good, and then the next uh hundred and thirty chapters spend a lot of time defusing a lot of the setup. it's not just the slice-of-life stuff that predominates, it's the part where the story slowly picks away at the setup

like so, this is gonna have spoilers for the first chunk of super supportive. i've already made a post about this before i think but this will be post #2 i guess.

so super supportive introduces the state of the world: it's like 2040, and aliens contacted earth in the 1960s and brought with them all sorts of cool technology, intergalactic communication, and also the system. magic is real and aliens can do it and now with the system some people will get selected to have superpowers and get to go on quests to alien planets and get fabulous quest rewards (further superhero powers!) for doing so! wow everybody wants to be a superhero because it's so cool!

oh yeah so the technical term for the system is 'the interdimensional warriors contract', and earth is tithed to submit people to it. the aliens get to choose who. and if they choose you, you can't refuse. you also can't really refuse a summons. one of the most popular, to the aliens, classes is the one where you're just a personal assistant. classes with actual superpowers also sometimes get summoned away on some quest and are never heard from again. sometimes they get death notifications, months or years later, but sometimes not. you don't get to pick your class either; those get assigned to you, though you can swap classes with somebody else during a brief provisional period after you've been selected but before your superpowers come due. also, humans have no clue how to really use the system; the aliens make a big point of not telling anybody anything about how it's put together or even things like "these skills are good and these other skills suck". part of the 'appeal' stat involves mental changes to make you more sociable and agreeable.

they do pay superheroes for their work. but they can't really say no to a job, or control what they do. one early example of 'tasks superheroes get summoned to do' is 'help evacuate a dangerous research station' 'but only our contracted employees; explicitly do not allow the other staff who have not contracted to our corporation to leave'.

also, a major character early on is: literally an imprisoned slave who's chained to his desk and has a geas over him such that he's not able to do things like 'express preferences'. some alien wizard just dropped him down at the embassy and he's been stuck working there for decades now. i'm sure it's fine.

so as it goes through the early chapters and these things get revealed there's a lot of tension between how everybody in-universe thinks about this ("superheroes cool") and the out-of-universe information, in which it's clear this is something more like indentured labor. there's a lot of ominous weight about the power differential there. this is a world where magic is real, the universe runs on magic, aliens can use magic, but humans can't. and the magical system aliens have put in place on earth is one that is explicitly gamified with pretty tokens and prebuilt skills and nothing even approaching, like, information on how it works.

so that's interesting! and then the first 'book' ends and the main character gets back to earth and it seems like there's a lot of backing-off of those implications. all the aliens we meet are super cool and nice and honorable. despite some gesturing at various factions of aliens, there hasn't really been a lot of followthrough on, like, the alien politics involved or how they're set up. so i'm still reading because i think it definitely still has promise, & it's written in a fairly engaging fashion, but all of this is basically contingent on it actually having a good payoff for all the buildup, & i'm not really sure that the author really cares about that stuff specifically.

[kinfriday]

The Irregular Ascetic

In August, I briefly made a new friend on Tumblr.

His account has long since vanished for reasons I do not know. Maybe this place just didn't click for him. I've been here for years and always found it welcoming, but I know that, like everything, this site is not for everyone.

He'd send me a message, ask a question or two, and when I checked every week or so, I'd do my best to reply.

Then, one day, he was gone, but not before leaving me one last question:

"An ascetic heathen life? What does that look like to you? I want to see that visual."

And that's kind of the question, isn't it?

The thing about callings is that they aren't always clear-cut. I may feel drawn towards an ascetic heathen life, but it's not like my Gods sent me an Ikea flat-pack kit.

As seems to be the pattern with the Germanic deities, they tapped me on the shoulder and then said...

"Here ya go, figure it out."

And here we are. Forty-Two, with over ten years as a member of the Ár nDraíocht Féin (ADF), I haven't finished my dedicant path, nor started the clergy track.

I can't remember the last time I did a full ritual.

All in all, I seem like a pretty crappy monk, don't I?

Sister Snow Hare, indeed...

It seems that my vanishing friend pinned me to the wall. I've been chewing on this again, trying to work it out.

If you're reading this, buddy, know that you kicked off a lot of introspection about my path, and you inspired this long rambling Tumblr post.

The best place to start is the beginning. (A little free wisdom)

So, what exactly is monasticism?

Good ol’ Mr. Wikipedia defines it as "a religious way of life in which one renounces worldly pursuits to devote oneself fully to spiritual work."

No matter the faith, this is a feature of monastic life: asceticism, self-denial, and focus.

Have I mentioned I can't remember the last time I did a ritual yet?

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

Nothing makes me feel guilty, like comparing myself to the standards and practices of others. Somewhere out there, a Buddhist is living on four grains of rice, meditating eighteen hours a day, stopping only to sleep. The five minutes a day he spends on Tumblr, he's laughing at me.

I just know it. >.>

You could say I've been feeling a little convicted about this.

Yet the calling is still there. My relationship with my Gods isn't just good; it's warm. While not formal or official, I have a fulfilling spiritual life that's not structured like anything in the faith org I faithfully send my twenty dollars a year to and then largely hide from.

So what's going on?

I've begun to realize slowly over the last year that my faith path will probably never be recognizable as anything routine, rote, or by the book, but what it will be is mine.

Where does my asceticism show?

Let me take you through a typical day.

Waking at 2300 (11 pm), I plank for three minutes, do about ten minutes of calisthenics, wash my face, and then meditate for twenty minutes to a half hour, offering that time to the Gods. Then, with that done, I recite my creed and head off to the gym.

I have a creed. I'm that fancy!

While I'm in the truck, I informally pray. Often, I'm talking to my Lady Eostre, but the other Gods definitely get included. Woden and I have always gotten along, and Thunor, I call big brother because he's always watching out for us and protecting us.

Now it's time for my hour minimum at the gym. Half an hour each of cardio and weight training. This is so I can be in good condition and proper shape.

Good health is important to me, but more on that in a moment.

When I get home, I clean for about an hour, something I call "service meditation." Scrubbing floors, cleaning counters, and sanitizing bathrooms is a gift I can give daily to my loved ones with whom I make a home. While I work, I reflect on them and consider all they give me.

After a much-needed shower, I'm in the office and might finally have breakfast. I eat, ascetically, often the same thing every day; I keep my calories low and usually take up a 16-hour fast between my last meal and first meal.

Everything gets weighed down to the gram and tracked on my calorie sheet.

Next comes editing, writing, often some informal online counseling, or time spent on networks like Counter Social, Telegram, and Discord trying to help people, even if it's only getting them to smile.

Hope is big for me because my Lady Eostre is the goddess of Spring and the Dawn. She is hope personified, a goddess of fresh chances and potential. Pointing back to her and her values is my purpose. It's what I was made for.

My day continues like that until I'm in bed at 1600 (4 PM), after an hour cool-down where I go through my creed and have one last conversation with the Gods. That's when I set out my fruit offerings if I happened to have any that day.

It's a hard and fast rule. The gods always get the best part of the banana and the strawberry.

This is the way.

My bed is a mat that rolls out on the floor. I started that in 2020, and I've never been happier or slept better, and when I travel, it comes with me.

And I travel a lot.

My family here calls it "missions." Every now and again, someone in my network will need help. They might be having surgery, a mental health crisis, or are moving cross town or cross country. Whatever the reason, the call goes out, and if I can make it work with money, I'll hop a plane, train, or bus and get out there.

Beyond the joy I get from being in shape and capable, this is why I work out. It's much easier to load and move boxes or help lift people when you're in decent physical condition. 

I actually have training as a CNA, so I know how to do all the transfer stuff, and I have decent experience in post-surgical care.  

I don't want to go into this part too much because it feels like bragging, but I've been all over the States and soon to be Canada just helping people. I ramble in, do what I can, then return home and take back up my discarded routine.

And this is my life, apart from writing my books. As I looked at it and began breaking it down, I realized that I am already living a disciplined ascetic life.  

My gods and my faith are at the forefront of what I do, but what defines my faith isn't the regular application of ritual, but action. Indeed, one of the sayings I live by is actions show what words claim.

So I'm not on a mountaintop, meditating with the sun's rising and setting, or dwelling within a monastery, cloistered from the world, living to sing hymns. There is beauty in that kind of asceticism, but it's not my asceticism.

Yet, we do have things in common.

My life is one of service, with a focus on the divine and the advancement of their aims for the world. It is my hope (there's that word again) that I can show the wisdom and cunning of Woden, the strength of Thunor, the honor of Tyr, and most of all, embody the hope of the Dawn in all I do.

Of course, I'm not perfect, and Saturdays are often waffle day, but life is about growth, not static metrics.

It's dawning on me that I may never be fully recognized in my path. I don't seem to jive well with organizations and dogmatic structures. I may never have Reverend by my name or "Sister" formally. When it's time to go, I may not even leave much behind save my books and these Tumblr posts.

When I do cross that far horizon, and I am again before my Lady, I hope she will look back on all I did during this strange human odyssey and see that while I may have been taken from her for a time, I never stopped being her devoted one, her servant, and that is all the formal recognition I will ever need.

For me, an ascetic heathen life is one of actions, denial, and service, which I seek to live every day.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Chortle headlines.

Some of these are interesting. I don't know if it bodes well if Paddy Young is the absolute best rookie comedians in all of Britain, but he definitely had a good show last year (that got streamed on NextUp from Edinburgh). I have trouble believing anyone wrote a show that's better than both Paul Foot's Dissolve and Ahir Shah's Ends, but to be fair, I haven't seen John Kearns' show and he is very fucking good at these things, makes me hope even more that he'll be doing something in Edinburgh while I'm there. Alex Horne got an award for Taskmaster being an outstanding achievement, not quite sure what that means but I think it's accurate. I think if you look up the definition of "breakthrough act" you'll just find a note that says "see Sam Campbell's career throughout 2023", so that couldn't really have gone any other way. I've heard Kiri Pritchard-McLean compere a bunch on NextUp things, she is in fact very good at clubs. I haven't seen any of the other nominees but I'm still sure that James Acaster deserved to win that best tour one. I couldn't stomach the amount of Celebrity Glamour in Joe Lycett's new show but he is a great comedian and he is definitely made to be a TV comedian, which in some ways could be an insult but I really mean it as a compliment, he's great at that, good for him. Munya Chawawa posts highly amusing song parodies on YouTube. Fern Brady's is one of the best comedian books I've read. Three Bean Salad I was unable to get into, but maybe I'll give it another shot sometimes, after I finish with the winners of that radio award, John and Elis - well done to them for getting over ten years and not completely falling apart. I usually find it hard to get into sketch comedy (or anything that isn't straight stand-up) but Lorna Rose Treen made me laugh with character things last summer, so she probably deserves that one.

Those are my unsolicited opinions on that. The existence of Taskmaster is definitely an outstanding achievement for all involved.

This a special feature that happens every once in a while, called "Chortle publishes the contents of Daniel Kitson's mailing list". I find it gets funnier the less it sounds like Steve Bennett knows about the news items beyond the contents of the mailing list email, and in this case, that is clearly fuck all. But anyway, it's a great show and exciting announcement, anyone who has the opportunity should go see this tour. He said in the email that he might try to get something going in NYC later this year, which would be incredibly logistically difficult for me to get to (8.5-hour drive each way if I can borrow a car from someone, which would be tough, 14 hours on the bus otherwise, I've been told I can't take any more vacation days in 2024 because I used them on the London/Edinburgh trip), but still, I have found myself wondering how I might be able to make that work if he actually announces it.

Fucking hell. I can't believe this. My local comedian Facebook group is going pretty wild in response to this news. That's fucking huge, a massive amount of stuff is centred around this. To be honest I'm still not clear on the scope of this news so I won't go into it too much, I'll just say, fucking hell. Truly shocking. That's like a sport just canceling its national championships halfway through the season.

Excellent. Everyone should read this. His 2023 show (which I think he's still touring) is one of my favourite comedy shows ever. And the one before that, which inspired this book, is also very fucking funny, though not as good as his latest one.

Also, I am up for a trend of one comedian per year writing a book about their relatively recent autism diagnosis. Who do we think it'll be in 2025? I have approximately four to five suggestions.

[princeresnikov]

it's in my nature {Tangerine} // 4

four. tangerine: ego death at the venn diagram intersection.

Chapter Summary: it appears hard to convince The Son of the severity of their situation, though he just seems worried that their concerned about the wrong thing. because everyone knows about the woman who lost her arm for a late payment, but The White Death is capable of far more cruelty when he truly cares about the payload. and The Son proves himself to be far more observant and cruel when it comes to making sure his bodyguards are focused.

{ Masterlist }

A/N: 4509 words. i know this took a while but we're finally at part 4!! we get a lot of shit happening here, some implications, some accusations, as well as a whole flashback to New York!! the book is very liberal with it's flashbacks so we get one here. writing Tangerine's POV is sometimes a bit of a struggle characterisation-wise, considering everything that he has learned in literally five minutes, so please let me know if there's anything i could be doing differently/better, i love suggestions and i love feedback. have fun!!

Warnings: Don't be surprised when the OC is a terrible person and is implied to have done terrible things along with the rest of them. There will be smut in the future chapters.

Chapter Warnings: Discussion of how The White Death takes fingers as punishment, but a little more extreme than in the movie. impied smut at the end but its not explicit.

Taglist: @venusthepirate @malar-region @tangerinesgf @esmaada @sarcastic-sourwolf @djjskfkskjf @justshutupmars @somikesoc @chachadelight @andydre4m @evangelineflowers @darkchai @basementsoup @bellatrix124 @kunikidaswhore @thewinterschildren178 @felhomaly @perksofbeingamultifandomm @aniglio18 @geeiz @mimidior @justicex101 @ltlthetrifecta @salsasadd @tongerines

[ always open, just message or comment! ]

----

Lemon would probably call her a Diesel, and he'd be bloody well right to, Tangerine catches himself thinking with a scowl. The world outside slips by in the darkness, nothing more than scattered lines of light, disorientating anyone who tried to keep up, like Tangerine with his thoughts in this moment.

"My father hired the two of you," The Son's implied question of 'instead of her?' rang out infuriatingly clear. The audacity this kid has to look at his designated guards with disdain of all things, after everything they went through to make sure he was safe was almost enough to tip Tangerine over the edge and smack him after the series of revelations he'd just endured. But he's not. I'm not going to smack the son of The White Death; he wasn't the kind of person who had personal mantras, but this one was sounding pretty good right now.

"Yeah he did; your daddy hired us to get you out of the trouble you got yourself into, naughty, little frog," Tangerine's tone turns infuriatingly chipper, using the only non-violent way he can think of right now to get under The Son's skin. It clearly works, judging by the venomous look that's now being focused on him, "and we've all heard what tight a leash he keeps Miss Clementine on," there's something malevolent in his voice that he doesn't fight to hide, leaning in to make sure the other passengers can't hear his disparaging anger, "so I think if he wanted her on your case, he wouldn't have hired us." 

There's definitely more to read into this if he wanted to think about the implications of it all for even a few seconds, but he did not have the time or mental energy in this moment to spiral like that. Sitting up again, he finds once more that The Son's practiced flat expression irks him more than he ever wants to let on, like he's subconsciously hoping for a reaction, for proof that he holds even some power over this asshole.

"Is that why Tangerine?" This, the smugness, the look in his eyes like he's evaluating Tangerine across the table, this is worse than no reaction, even if Tangerine doesn't quite understand what he's asking or implying.

"What?" 

"If I were you," The Son shifts forward, oozing unwarranted condescension, "I wouldn't keep Tangerine knowing Clementine was alive." The mocking implication calls back to the stupid argument about whether or not Tangerine feels guilty about New York, which is a bloody moot point now all things considered, and the rest is nothing but an inaccurate guess meant to rile him up. I'm not going to take the bait, I'm not going to smack The Son, with each careful, controlled breath.

"Now seeing as the decisions you've made lead you to a place where you were able to be kidnapped as ransom bait by the Triad, despite you assumedly - well I bloody hope - knowing who your extremely psychotic, fucked up father is," Tangerine knows he's smiling by technicality only, to keep the surrounding passengers unaware of his sharply mounting frustration, "so I'm going to ignore your suggestion, considering, one;" holding up his hand with one extended finger for emphasis, "'s been my name for five years, and two," his smile grows wider, his tone grows brighter, the anger in his eyes still remains, "the decisions I've made are why we were hired by your dear, old dad, and why despite leaving seventeen dead bodies behind, you made it out with only a couple of scratches."

Finally a reaction from The Son, now petulantly scowling out the window, but thankfully keeping his mouth shut. It was enough to satisfy Tangerine's building frustration, letting himself breathe for a moment, ease the tense set of his shoulders, gazing back and forth down the aisle, refocusing, reassessing their carriage and their situation. No immediate threats. No Clementine. Relative peace, at least for a moment -

"Actually, it's sixteen." 

"What's that now?"

The second Lemon tries to correct him, there's that pesky twitch of his eyelid that he can't seem to repress no matter how hard he tries. No, it was seventeen. Seriously, how does he not remember all seventeen? Sure it's been a long day, they haven't exactly had much time to rest, and things have taken several turns for the unexpected, but - 

Christ. They're going through them, all seventeen. Each kill lines up in their memory as far as it seems, the order, the precision, the visceral feeling in close quarters. Memories fresh enough that he can almost smell the iron-rich blood splattered amongst the fish, neither brother is squeamish about taking pride in their work. But Lemon forgets the civilian. The one who exploded.

"Shit," as if it was so easy to remember once reminded, as if were so easy to forget in the first place, "that wasn't our fault," he adds, reiterating it to The Son beside him almost immediately, dodging any kind of accountability before he could even consider it.

"No? Well what would Thomas the Tank Engine say, Lemon?" Tangerine had no such need to avoid the truth of the matter; if he didn't acknowledge it, he wouldn't be able to learn from it, at least that's what he tells himself.

"That's really mean," Lemon had never liked how Tangerine would pick and choose when to indulge him in his interests, as it was more often than not used against him. Tangerine, however, was tired of having to use a children's animation to get through to his brother half the time. 

"He'd say 'take responsibility, mate'," case and point; Tangerine's mocking impression of the cartoon train does it's job of ruffling his brother's feathers, who's already defending the cartoon to The Son, as if he cared, as if that were the most important part of this all.

"He doesn't sound like that." 

Tangerine makes a mocking train horn noise. Okay, that bit was just to be an asshole.

Lemon chalks it up to compartmentalisation, quick to imply that Tangerine's insistent need to take on the responsibility of their collateral damage might be making him more volatile. There it is again, Tangerine's 'fixation' as Lemon calls it, on collateral damage, the implication of guilt. They could bicker in circles forever if they tried, Tangerine is sure of it, both knowing each other too well to ever have the upper hand for too long. Tangerine calls him childish for wanting to ignore an unavoidable part of their job that could be learned from as a profession, right up until Lemon crosses his arms and snaps -

"What'd you learn from Clementine then?"

"Clementine's clearly fucking different, don't do that -"

"She wasn't. Until today, she was collateral damage like all the rest of them -"

"Hey listen," The Son interrupts their argument with a mumble and an attempt to get up, "I'm just gonna get off at the next stop."

"Oh let's have a seat then," Lemon, beside him, eases him back into his seat without leaving any room for argument. However visibly annoyed The Son may be, he still sat, still was able to acknowledge when he was outmatched.

"You know that they call your papushka, little frog?" Tangerine can definitely see why Clementine used this nickname like a weapon; there was something so pleasing about seeing the exact grimace The Son makes every time he hears it.

"Fuck you," under his breath in Russian, like he thinks they won't understand it, then, quieter, "of course fucking I do -"

"The White Death," Lemon interjects pointedly, "not exactly a fruit." 

"No," Tangerine agreed, carefully fidgeting with a zip tie he'd fished from his pocket, both for something to do with his hands, and to keep The Son's attention off of Lemon securing his free hand to the other arm of the chair, "there's a story - stop me if you've heard it," he continues, keeping his tone light despite his words, "where this woman found herself in the unfortunate position of owing your father a tidy sum of money," of course The Son looks almost bored by the story, but Tangerine forges on ahead; even if The Son didn't take his father seriously, he needed to know that The Twins certainly did, "now the issue was it took her some time to acquire this money, but," he smiles sharply at The Son, "she did pay it back, five minutes late, didn't she?"

"Yeah, what'd he do?" Lemon, somehow unfamiliar with the story, asks. At least The Son seemed to be paying enough attention to know the story and how it ends. 

"Cut her arm off."

"Fuckin' hell!" Lemon sat up straight, wearing a look that fell somewhere between shock and horror. Hopefully he'd treat the assignment with more of the severity it deserves now that he apparently understands the full stakes.

"Yeah, said she owed him a finger for every minute," Tangerine explained, which did very little to improve his brother's current state, so he thought to clarify, "yeah, well, he's not a monster, he didn't make her sit through it five times, he just cut once, didn't he?" Immediately Lemon tightens the zip tie around the Son's wrist, securing him in place firmly, barely an ounce of wiggle room. "So our job is to keep you safe," Tangerine continues to his now properly captive audience blithely, "and to recover the briefcase with the ransom money inside-"

"You shouldn't worry about losing your hand," The Son tells him with almost the hint of a warning in his voice. Still, he tries to tug his arm free. It doesn't budge. So while Tangerine is about to say that he isn't, so long as The Son stayed put and didn't wander off, The Son, now cornered like an animal, doesn't give him the chance before feeling the need to lash out, "because the money didn't matter."

"What?" Lemon voices confusion for both brothers; did The Son not consider that enough motivation for his wellbeing?

"In that story, it's the principle that matters, not the money itself," there's something in his eyes that hadn't been there before, something about how his gaze darts to his hands and between both Lemon and Tangerine, something wild and even a little bit afraid, "my father has money, and actions have consequences; borrow from The White Death, you should know to expect serious repercussions if it is not paid back in time." It's different from his earlier paranoia, that had been veiled with arrogance; it finally felt like the reality of his situation had hit him, "I've seen it before, cruel on paper, but it's a routine punishment; it's why he takes them all at once," Tangerine thinks he saw a flash of this intensity in The Son's eyes when Clementine first called him a frog, but The Brothers let him speak, if only because it was refreshing to see him giving a shit about their mission, "but you speak like you think I also don't matter; talk all the shit you want, I am still The White Death's son." 

"It's fucked up, we're acknowledging that, but that's why you can't just hop off and wander 'round the city on your own," Tangerine, unsure of where this was all going considering he thought his own story was pretty well motivating for them all, crosses his arms expectantly.

"You should hope I simply arrive late and you lose a hand than what would happen if I do not arrive at all, because I have a story - stop me if you've heard it before -" he mocks Tangerine from just moments ago, glowering at him, projecting frustration to veil his fear, "the first and last time my father's precious, favourite associate failed him with something much more valuable than money," there's resentment in the way his lip curls into a sneer of disgust, the malice he spits the recollection, "because her unforeseeable, unavoidable failure was still failure. So he made an example, gave her an audience; four fingers were taken, but he made her take them herself, one at a time." As the memory settles over him, some of the frantic energy seems to leave The Son, who sits back in his chair.

"What the fuck," Lemon muttered under his breath, clearly sharing his brother's sentiment, "he made her cut off four of her own fingers?" Every new thing Tangerine learns about The White Death has him regretting taking this job on, because now that he'd heard it, Tangerine realises he did know the story, though he never believed it. It was like a myth, something too cruel to come to pass, something he assumed most would rather die before they endured as a spectacle.

"He told her he would kill her if she complained, so she didn't, ever again," expression drawn, the kid couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with either brother, looking instead at the tabletop in front of him, "it was an effective lesson for someone too useful to kill, and he likes her far more than he likes either of you."

"What did he care so much about that it was worth that kind of torment for the unlucky bastard who failed?" Tangerine frowned. Something about The Son's demeanour was clearly off, as if he hadn't anticipated being so shaken by his own recollection of the events. When he looks to Tangerine, his gaze is guarded again, bordering on hostility. 

"My mother," with The Son's harsh words came a sinking sensation in Tangerine's chest as he reads into the implications. There's the horror that comes when he considers the mother's bodyguard's 'failure' had simply been surviving the drunk driving collision that killed her client, "so even with my father's money," The Son looked back out the darkened window, as if trying to re-establish his aloof air from before, "you should know that your chances of leaving intact lower with each moment The Scorpion and I remain on the same train. You're fucking stupid to let her walk off."

"So we're not only in danger from your crazy ex, but because she's your crazy ex?" Lemon deadpans; he seems perturbed by it all, but not nearly as much as Tangerine had been expecting. It's here Tangerine starts to realise that Lemon may not even be away of the full context, either of the story of The White Death's wife, or The White Death himself. Never been the detail-orientated type for anything other than trains, Tangerine doesn't know why he still expects more, Lemon leans on him for that kind of focus.

"I think this is about the time you clue us in on what exactly the fuck went down between you and Clementine?" Tangerine scowled, trying to move on from the story and into comparatively less distressing topics.

"You honestly believe she's a real threat to you?" Lemon adds, just as sick of the clear doubts The Son kept voicing about them.

"As if that's any of your fucking business," the prick sits back, clearly feeling defensive all of a sudden.

"Considering it's kind of come down to kill-or-be-killed because of it, I think it's definitely worth knowing why she's so passionate about offing you," Tangerine refuses to back down, wearing a mean little smile as he needles the kid across from him. It takes an excruciatingly long time for The Son to finally find his voice again, refusing to relent on his defensiveness. 

"Like The White Death, it takes very little for The Scorpion to justify her own violence," he says very carefully, deliberating about each word he spoke, "what I had to offer her would never be enough and so she felt disrespected," it practically curdles on his tongue, whole expression turning nasty, "do not underestimate her capacity for cruelty just to prove a point. She could have left New York quietly but she orchestrated her own violent death in front of you both; she poisons everyone she touches in one way or another, it's in her nature." He sits back, clearly desperate to leave the conversation but bound to this moment against his will.

There are holes in The Son's story that are big enough to be craters, his victim mentality neon and obvious enough that Tangerine kind of wants to reiterate his mocking impression of Thomas from a few minutes ago; take accountability, mate. Because what he's saying and the way he and Clementine had been interacting for only a few minutes clearly indicates he's not nearly as shiny and blameless in their altercation as he wants to imply. Perhaps it's the last of his bias for the Clementine he remembers from New York, but The Son talks about Clementine like she's an unfathomable monster, despite how he clearly once liked her well enough to want her. 

"Oh, I get it now, like that fable," Lemon lights up with understanding, looking to Tangerine, "The Scorpion and The Frog." 

"You poor, little frog," is all Tangerine can say with a derisive shake of his head. Just to make sure they've got all their bases covered, however, he does find himself searching their immediate area for the briefcase of money. The Son may have been his priority, but he still wasn't keen on losing an arm over some money either.

"We'll keep you safe from the big, mean Scorpion," Lemon assures, patting The Son on the arm. As much as he tries to jerk away from the touch, making a face at their mockery, there's very little space for him to go. But The Son's feelings are once again the least of Tangerine's concerns.

"Lemon, where's the briefcase?" Having finally looked everywhere he could think of from his seat twice, Tangerine finally caves and asks his brother, hoping for a simple, pleasant answer despite the discomfort rising in him.

"Oh, I stashed it," Lemon's answer is far too casual for someone who assumedly would also like to end today with all limbs and extremities still firmly attached.

"The case, Lemon," he hisses, leaning forward as his hands are clasped on the table in an effort to mask his frustration, "go get me the fucking case." At least Lemon takes him seriously enough in this moment to stand and see about collecting the case. The minute he's is out of earshot, however, The Son turns on Tangerine.

"He doesn't know you have shit taste in women too, does he?"

Tangerine's blood runs cold.

"Fucking excuse you?" Tangerine tries playing dumb and defensive, but there's nothing teasing nor hesitant in the cold look The Son gives him. Too specific, said with too much confidence; it's not an accusation, it's a fact of which The Son is certain.

Obnoxious bastard, Tangerine is furious to think to himself, immediately followed by how the hell could he be so sure? In the brief few minutes they'd spent with Clementine, he was sure they'd been on the same wavelength considering the situation, both so careful to not even so much as imply a less than platonic history, making only incidental or purposefully discrete contact if any. Nothing had been incriminating in hindsight, Tangerine's hand on her thigh completely hidden, perhaps even something of a power play given the situation, an attempt to keep her in line, like his touch would remind her what he was capable of. It had worked; if nothing else it had worked to keep her from making a scene, but that left only one conclusion to be drawn. Because The Son had seen in minutes what Tangerine can tell Lemon has always been oblivious to. Despite all the half-truths and obvious contempt he now held for her, The Son knew Clementine better than either of them would ever let on, and it had left Tangerine compromised.

Fuck.

"You're a liability," The Son continues maliciously, like Tangerine's inner monologue was shouting loud enough to hear, "to my father, to your partner;" he doesn't pull his punches, "Clementine preys on weak links."

"Suppose that's why she got with you in the first place, huh frog boy?" Even Tangerine's biting use of the nickname doesn't seem to faze The Son in this moment. I'm not going to smack The White Death's son.

"Your denial makes you a fucking idiot," he spits in response, "how have you not realised you were set up?"

"If this is a little test from your daddy dear, Lemon and I are more than up to the challenge."

"New. York." The Son overemphasises his words as if speaking to a child, but the beginnings of a realisation flicker to life in the back of Tangerine's mind. New York; the month with Clementine, she died in front of them, she's actually alive and here and is actually a deadly operative. Three thoughts he knew revolved around each other, but part of him didn't want to think about connecting just yet. 

"It has a name," The Son continues when all the reaction Tangerine gives is to frown, "I can't recall, but my father liked to give these contracts to Clementine. Delicate matters; thieving, killing, blackmail, all sorts of variations with one commonality that made Clementine especially effective," he's dancing around the idea by now, waiting to see how long it takes for the dots to connect, "sweet-something, I think. Like honey."

"A honeypot?" Tangerine deadpans. It hasn't quite clicked yet; denial is a hell of a drug, "you think Clementine was running a honeypot while we were all in New York? What, on our target? I highly doubt it; The Scorpion kills her competition, always has, everyone knows that." 

For a very long moment The Son gives Tangerine a calculating look, eyes narrow and disparaging. Whatever it is he may be looking for in Tangerine, he seems to come up with something he doesn't like. When he smiles, however, it's cold and cruel.

"So you think Clementine fucked you in New York because she loved you?"

Because there's the obvious answer; no, fucking of course not. Because they knew each other for a month, and it was never anything serious, and the hurt- the anger is easily justifiable given the context. There's the scathing 'is that what you believed? Is that why you're like this?' but even in his mind it sounds too defensive, too much at an attempt to deflect. He won't lash out, it's too telling, he's better than that. So he also finds himself considering; no it wasn't bloody love, but frankly I've never been able to explain why I gave a shit about her, since I can't say that for many people who aren't my brother, and to find out that it was all by some malicious design is taking some time to sink in.

Tangerine's expression is carefully neutral, refusing to give any sort of reaction to the question despite how close he was internally to strangling The Son himself. 

And then there's the truth. The ego-shattering truth. If he'd never seen her again, Tangerine knows he would have gone to his grave believing in everything Clementine had said and done in New York. 

It had felt like Clementine would have done anything he asked, which, in hindsight, makes Tangerine feel sick to his stomach. His ego had soaked up her attention, her praise, her willingness to fall into bed with him without asking questions about the blood stain on his shoes. The way she'd looked at him, eager to please, always ready to help him the moment he walked into the hotel and spotted him from the front desk, she was charmingly innocent, full of puppy love and useful information; he'd taken advantage of one to get the other. Leading her on was merely resource management, testing how useful she could be; information was one thing, but Tangerine was nothing if not resourceful.

It only takes a week for him to be sure, the first week of a month-long delicate operation. The fight wasn't part of that operation, the fight was a point of pride at a local pub that wasn't any real threat beyond some superficial wounds. Still, the pretty hostess whose been unexpectedly warm and eager to accommodate him looked concerned as he'd made a frustrated beeline for the elevator, looking markedly more dishevelled than when he'd left that afternoon.

"If there's anything you need, sir, please let us know!" She'd called, while he'd thrown her a tight smile, stepping into the elevator and rapidly jabbing at the button for his floor.

But fine, he'd reasoned upon getting back to his infuriatingly mild hotel room and poorly stocked medical kit, he calls the front desk. If he's making choices to suit his own pride and ego today, he could start on properly securing an informant. 

Clementine had her own medical supplies and a steady hand. Clementine never took off her gloves because she claimed her prosthetics were cold to the touch without them. Clementine's laugh was as bright and refreshing as her namesake. Clementine had blushed when she admitted to wearing nice underwear since she'd first seen him in the hotel as a form of wishful thinking. Clementine had been pliant and willing beneath him, and Tangerine, who spent his whole life taking orders and making sure his partner's needs were seen to, if only to keep up his reputation, had finally felt as if he'd met someone whose joy came from pleasing his every desire. It had been unfamiliar, but not unpleasant.

In the end, Tangerine had been happy as the bad guy in Clementine's story, the bastard who lead her on, manipulated her, used her, and gotten her killed, it was a role he was comfortable in at the end of the day. It had been safer. She hadn't been a loose end. He didn't have to think about if she had survived and he had just left --

Yes, he would have thought she fucked him in New York because she loved him, but that was the point! That was always the fucking point! The distrust weaving through his memories grows thorns. He need to stop thinking about it; The Son, across the table, can probably see in his eyes that he's gone to New York, just as Lemon had pointed out before. He hates the look in that bastard's eyes; Tangerine's thoughts are a mess, growing traitorous, jealous teeth when he thinks too hard about The Son and his questions and his fucking history with Clementine.

The truth really did make him feel like a liability. 

And he has no real answer.

When the phone goes off it feels like an actual godsend. Thank fuck. Thoughts on more immediate, less loaded things. 

Unknown caller; undoubtably one of The White Death's associates checking in, making sure everything was under control. All things considered, The Son was secured in his seat, Lemon would be back with the case in a moment, and Tangerine was optimistic that he and his brother were more than capable of stopping Clementine if she did end up trying anything. 

Tangerine answer the phone. It's an excuse to get up, get even a few feet away from The Son even just for a few moments. If he ever sees that smug, knowing look on that bastard's face again, it'll be too soon.

[sharkiethedork]

Hi so I finished reading A Beautifully Foolish Endeavor by Hank Green the other day and I really enjoyed it! I do have a couple rambley nitpicks on how I thought the story was gonna go but I don't know anyone else who's read these books yet so I'm gonna throw it out here into the void. so spoilers below! (I do highly recommend these two books though so if you do read them we can talk about them hehe)

Okay I was SURE that the text that Miranda got from Maya about the the dresses was actually from Carl's Brother/One dgsdfgs like! I was reading that part and right when Miranda starts speculating on what Maya meant by that, I had a really incredible moment of dread when I remembered that, oh shit, April chucked Maya's phone out of the car earlier! I thought One got ahold of the phone or signal or whatever and sent that text to make Miranda feel bad and start doubting her friends so she would get mixed up in Altus easier! I believe Carl gives Maya her phone back in the next chapter and I was kind of waiting for that reveal to be made for a good chunk of the book, but then Maya said that she did send that text when she rescues Miranda from the Altus space. (And for a moment, that also made me wonder if that was actually a fake out too! But that wouldn't make much sense for One to do since Miranda didn't know they'd be coming to get her then anyway)

Which, isn't a problem and I know the whole book wasn't always strictly chronological so that's fine. Maybe I'm just a sucker for when the villain completely plays the protagonists (which, to be fair, was the case when it came to the Thread so I did get what I wanted in that way lol) but I was very slightly disappointed that my foreshadowing senses were slightly off there haha

And secondly. I was positive Robin was gonna die at some point lol. He's the only member of the gang who didn't have any chapters in the book, and Andy said something to the affect of "I never learned more about why Robin has issues with dating" after their heart-to-heat scene (Which was a scene I really adored btw). It just turns out that Robin just kinda...stopped showing up about 3/4th the way though.

While I definitely get that it probably wasn't feasible to have a SIXTH narrator in the book, and as an aspirational writer with a few minor projects under my belt I'm very aware that sometimes you just end up having a character that just kinda doesn't have anything to do later on and falls to the wayside, Robin's absence did kind of feel like a missed opportunity. Robin's reveal that he knew April's agent whos name escapes me soz was also working for Petrawiki was the partial catalyst that led to April "dying" in the first book, and he makes it clear to Andy that he's wracked with guilt about it. If I recall, the only interaction we get between him and April is that she hugs him when he shows up at the penthouse, and I'm pretty sure that scene ends up being his last appearance or at least his last major one. I think it would have been great if some time was spent in an April chapter where they make up. It's fine if April has forgiven him since then, but having some closure between them on the page would have been really great. Oh well.

At the very least when it comes to him not being a narrator, I can easily imagine them asking Robin to help write the book but he's just like "Hey it was your guys' job to do all the work on the ground, my job is to be your agent and get it out there, let me do that well."

Other than those two frankly minor nitpicks I thought ABFE was really good! I wish I had read them sooner but they came out while I was in the middle of my like five years where I didn't read shit, and also I hadn't been paying much attention to Nerdfighteria so I was only vaguely aware of the books for a while. I think I slightly prefer An Absolutely Remarkable Thing although I'm not super sure why I do, but you can't just stop at the first one!

[avrablake]

15 Questions Tag: Iris

Thanks for tag @nopoodles

I've also answered this for Ryu, Kaori, Nix, and Nolan if you want to see their responses.

I'm having her answer these just before she meets Nolan. Her life definitely doesn't end up taking the direction she thought it would.

1 - Are you named after anyone?

I don't know. I don't remember very much about my birth family but I do remember that my mother had a flower garden. I guess she named me Iris because she liked flowers.

2 - When was the last time you cried?

*Her face turns red and she laughs an embarrassed laugh*

Turns out I cry pretty easily. I cry when I'm mad, which I hate, and when I'm embarrassed, and when I'm sad, and even sometimes when I'm happy. I don't really keep track of it.

3 - Do you have any kids?

I'm definitely too young for that. I do have about 20 little brothers and sisters though.

4 - Do you use sarcasm?

Not really. Miss Margaret doesn't like it. The younger kids are always getting scolded for being sarcastic, especially Gram. I don't disagree with her either. It seems sarcasm is meant to be hurtful more than it's meant to be funny.

5 - What's the first think you notice about people?

Hmmm. I can usually tell when someone is trying to hide something. Or when they aren't being genuine. I guess I notice their body language? I've never really thought about it.

6 - What is your eye color?

*she points at her eyes with both index fingers and grins*

Blue!

7 - Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings for sure, but I do think scary movies can be fun as long as they aren't too scary. I like the old ones with no special effects and I think jump scares can be fun. But I don't like the really gruesome ones.

8 - Any special talents?

The kids all like when I tell stories, so I guess I'm pretty good at that.

9 - Where were you born?

*her smile slips and she blinks rapidly. She clears her throat before answering*

Uh, I was born in one of the farming villages near the city. But I've been at the orphanage since I was about six. To me that's home.

10 - What are your hobbies?

*her eyes light up and she wipes them before answering*

I like telling stories to the younger kids at the orphanage. I like to read so sometimes I just retell them stories from books I've read. But there aren't that many books at the orphanage. When some of the kids started getting tired of those I started making up my own. Sometimes I take the kids outside at night and we look for pictures in the sky together. Sometimes I make up a story about what they say they see.

I also like gardening. I grow a small vegetable garden at the orphanage. I grow a few flowers too though there isn't very much room.

11 - Do you have any pets?

Do Gram and Aly count? Sometimes I think those two are more like a couple of wild animals than children.

12 - What sports do you or have you played?

Unfortunately I've never really been able to play any sports or games. I've never had very much stamina and I get sick a lot. Miss Margaret always made me stay on the sidelines when the other kids were playing.

13 - How tall are you?

Around 5'2" I think?

14 - Favorite subject in school?

Miss Margaret is very insistent that we all are well educated. She teaches us herself but that doesn't mean our education is worse than anyone else's. She even made us learn things like etiquette and dancing. I can't imagine any of us ever mingling with those wealthy people from the city, aside from Dr. Avery. Dancing was really fun though.

I guess my favorite has always been reading though. I also enjoyed gardening and learning about different kinds of plants.

15 - Dream job?

Wow that seems like too big of a question to have a simple answer. Like if I could do anything? I suppose Dr. Avery's work is interesting. I help him sometimes when he comes here, but I'm not sure I would want to be a doctor. I don't know. I've never really thought about doing anything except helping Miss Margaret here at the orphanage. I really love working with all the kids.

-

leaving an Open Tag and also tagging (no pressure) @thegreatobsesso @eccaiia and @shellyscribbles to answer this for one of your OCs or for yourself

[perks-of-being-a-nurse]

What made you want to become a nurse ?

hey @coldbrewman1 ! sorry I'm not sure when you sent this, I'm not super active on this blog anymore and mostly just post a mash up of things on my main @starfish-enterprise .

anyway! I don't have a super profound answer to this question. I've always been interested in medical things/the human body as long as I can remember. I remember looking at human body books I had as a little kid and stuff like that. this turned into watching medical shows, reading lots of random stuff, and sneakily watching medical reality/reenactment shows when I wasn't supposed to be watching TLC 😆

I've been pretty involved in scouts Canada since I was six going up through the program, and through scouts I had opportunities to do first aid training which I really liked. I also met a lot of amazing people who are lifelong friends who shared my same interests, and starting in highschool I was able to be involved in a "vocational program" focused on first aid and medical training and providing volunteer first aid for camps, scouting events, and community events. I have been able to be part of the medical service for three national scout camps with thousands of kids and it's amazing!

doing this volunteering kind of solidified in my mind like okay something medical is definitely what I want to do. originally I really wanted to be a paramedic, and the year after I graduated from high school I got my emergency medical responder license. I never ended up getting paid to work with that license (I did volunteer,) but I did volunteer under that scope. where I live it can be difficult to make a good wage starting out as a paramedic. BC has a provincial paramedic service, and it's a union (which is great) so it's all seniority based, so getting a full time position in a city can take a long time. on call hourly pay is terrible, and you usually start in a rural area where you might not get a lot of calls, so if you don't get any calls you could make just $14 for a 12 hour shift.

my mom discouraged me from pursuing that for various reasons, and she also really encouraged me to get a university degree, which is what most people do in my family. I didn't want to do just like a random biology degree, because I don't necessarily work well when I can't see a clear trajectory and a concrete end goal of what I'm working towards, if that makes sense. even doing a degree with the goal of med school still has a lot of possible routes to get there, and it's so much school, which is not my favourite lol. I also knew I still wanted to do something medical/health care related, so that led me to nursing! I applied to a few universities in my last year of high school, and I was accepted to nursing programs at Queens and Western universities in Ontario. I almost went to Queens, but I didn't feel ready to go straight into university after high school.

I took a year off, did that EMR course and licensing, worked at a grocery store and as a nanny, and did volunteer ski patrol (more first aid) at my local ski hill.

during that year I applied to my local nursing program which I wasn't able to apply to straight out of high school due to various course credit stuff which they have since changed. I was lucky enough to get in on my first try, which is amazing because there's often a long wait-list for this program. then I finished and became a nurse!

tldr: I like medical stuff, becoming a doctor is a lot of school, and paramedics don't make as much money 😆

anyway, I don't a have a super profound answer or anything, it was just a good career choice that worked for me. nursing wasn't a calling to me, its not really my passion, it's my job. it's a job that I really like and sometimes love, but it's my job, not my life. I think we need to hear more of that because it will help nurses get paid more and change public perception. I'm not nursing for altruistic reasons, and honestly I don't know anyone who is. the narrative of nursing being a calling or whatever needs to change imo.

sorry about my little diversion at the end there! there's the long convoluted answer 😆

[0thsense]

5/30/2023

Go ahead, put anything. okay tumblr. I want to develop my life. I want to upgrade myself. The path to physical upgrade is so clear.. go to the gym, do cardio, etc. The path to other upgrades? not so clear. Should I flesh out my frameworks of living? do I just choose one even though I'm not sure of anything? I have no direction in life. I want to create something beautiful. If I create one beautiful thing.. well I can't make any promises. to myself. I wonder if everybody feels about their soul in the same way. Does everyone feel that they have something uniquely pure and beautiful to offer to the world. It's probably all a delusion, but thinking that way feels like my soul will just die. I'm just rambling about things that make no sense. Everybody has different definitions for these things so communicating about them is really hard. I guess the human brain is hardwired to think in terms of cause and effect, which makes us ask "why am i here". but for that we can't find a meaningful answer, so we have to decide on an answer, and that's really hard. I sometimes think I should just decide on something just to try it out, but for these things you can't just "try it out", it'll never work unless you fully believe in it. Is that something that other people have done that I'm missing? that leap of faith to just believe in some purpose? I guess from a religious perspective maybe but what about non-religious people? I guess there's less pressure to answer this question if you naturally life effectively in society anyways, since you don't need the additional motivation. I always feel like I need additional information to answer this question and I don't have the drive to gather this additional information. Gathering this additional information means trying really hard at things for like a year.

I also feel like I'm not maturing because my life experience does not give me new insights. I could try to read books and ponder on them, but I feel like that results in incorrect and shallow conclusions, even if the books are good. Did I mature from playing omori? I probably felt the strongest emotions from playing Omori in my whole life the last 2-3 years. Maybe I forgot something, which feels increasingly common.

Due to the earth's rejection of my autistic self and my waning self-confidence, im trying to be a normie. I suck at socially interacting in a normie way. I miss when I could just say whatever was on my mind and people respected me enough to take me seriously. I feel like there's a ball of thoughts in my head that only make full sense in context of the entire ball, and it's impossible to write that whole ball so it's impossible to communicate this whole ball. That makes me scared to share any one part of this ball.

I finished reading The Road, and im reading oyasumi punpun right now. I want to write something on the things I read which affect me so I never forget. I should write something about Omori now, as my memory of it continues to wane. I'm so scared of doing all these things like reading, etc. and just not making any progress towards anything. One main purpose of reading is I want to be exposed to different views and ways of thinking, and I can't tell if thats happening. I recognized value in The Handmaid's Tale but I probably got like 5% of what the author was trying to put across. And I never wrote my thoughts on it. I guess I should do that too. I think I'm pretty initially dismissive these days. I try to lump lines of thinking into things I've thought of before, and by and large most of the time I find a way to lump a new thing into something thats close. This makes me lose those crucial insights that lie in the difference between what I already know and the new thing. My brain automatically does this through years of practice. I need to be more vigilant in carefully considering everything with no biases and no assumption that I already know what it is.

I think my dad was a lucky genetic freak in our family tree. I'm reverting to the expected outcome of my gene pool. My cousins are doing okay but not that well. Compared to other smart people, who have much stronger family lineups. The more research is done, the more people realize how hereditary most things are. I am a weird concoction, and so are most people. And we will never fully know the wonders of each others' mixes. I'm thinking it's likely that I'm part of the last human generation, mostly because of AI. I am deathly scared and think about what an AI singularity scenario will look like, but it's hard to predict. There will be nowhere to run, we will just be ants. Hopefully we will be useful to our new overlords. Maybe they will care about us and treat us humanely. Humanely is such a weird term, treating non-humans humanely is a good thing right!

I had something else I wanted to write. Oh yea pretending to be happy is hard. And it's a vicious cycle. I'm less valuable in every way if I present as unhappy. Sorry everyone.

[jungleslang]

So everyone's been talking about Azriel's shadows and how they seem to dance around Gwyn, but disappear around Elain. People seem to think his shadows disappearing around Elain is a bad thing, but I don't think so. I know I'm a little late, but I figured I'd still join the club and add my own thoughts to this debate by creating yet another compilation.

Now, before we talk about what it means that Az's shadows disappear around Elain, we need to talk about what it means when Az's shadows are present, or when they are swarming around him, as they often do in the books.

This is the very first time we see Azriel's shadows "wreathing" him in the series. Amren makes a comment about how violent the Illyrians are, which we know is a major source of discomfort/hatred for Az. Her comment causes his shadows to flock to him. This indicates that Azriel's shadows appear when he is uncomfortable. And here are some more instances of this happening.

In all of these scenes, we can see Azriel's shadows coming out to swarm him when he is uncomfortable. In the first one, Cassian makes a comment about their younger days that embarrasses Az, but when Mor defends him, he relaxes and the shadows disappear. In the second scene, Azriel discusses his childhood and the fact that he learned to fly much later than his brothers, which is clearly also a source of pain and discomfort for him. The last scene happens in ACOWAR when the IC gets into that fight about Rhys working with Eris and them going to the prison to recruit the Bone Carver behind Amren's back. Azriel uses his shadows to try and hide and distance himself from the situation.

Now the fact that Az's shadows come out when he is uncomfortable demonstrates that his shadows also serve the purpose of protecting him from emotions that he does not want to feel. We can see this from the scenes where Azriel's shadows coil around him when he sees Mor and Cassian together.

Feyre specifically says that it seems like Azriel's shadows are shielding him. Shielding him from what he feels when he sees Mor and Cassian together, walking off without him. Then there's this scene with Helion.

Yet another instance of Az's shadows protecting him from how feels about the thought of Mor with someone else. In addition to protecting him from emotions that he doesn't want to deal with, Azriel's shadows also seem to offer some form of physical protection as well.

This is the scene in ACOWAR where Az pops off on Eris during the meeting with all of the high lords. Feyre says that Az's shadows are hiding him from "the wrath of the binding magic" that was supposed to prevent people from engaging in a physical fignt. This implies that his shadows can provide other forms of protection as well besides emotional protection. There are also various instances in the series where Az's shadows are referred to as shields / described as shielding him, but I can't add them all as I don't have the space, and it isn't really necessary.

The last scene with Az fighting Eris also specifically uses the word "hid," which brings up another important function of Az's shadows. Azriel uses them not only as protection from having to feel emotions he'd rather push away, but also to hide his emotions from other people. I'm pretty sure all Elriel shippers know that scene from ACOFAS where Rhys is questioning Az about why he doesn't keep track of Lucien's movements, and Rhys himself says that Azriel's shadows are wrapped too tighty around him, thus hiding his emotions far too well for Rhys to be able to get a read on him.

We all also know that Az's shadows tend to swarm around him when he's pissed off, like in that scene where he finds out that Elain has been kidnapped and his eyes glow golden.

The point here is that Azriel's shadows being present is pretty much never framed as a good thing in this series. Now, I'm not saying that his shadows dancing around Gwyn is necessarily a bad thing, but we have to keep in mind that Azriel's shadows suddenly appearing hardly, if ever, indicates anything good. On the flip side, Az's shadows brightening is usually framed as a positive thing. However, Gwynriel shippers are right about Az's shadows providing him comfort.

In these two scenes, Azriel is seen taking comfort in the shadows, and they are described as his sanctuary. But we have to ask, sanctuary from what? And from what I discussed above, it's clear they're a sanctuary from the emotions of the real world, which is not necessarily always a good thing. Azriel's shadows represent his safe space / comfort zone, but sometimes it's necessary that we step out of our comfort zones, which is something I think Az needs to do. He has A LOT of shit he needs to deal with (SJM said herself that he's going through some shit), and he's not gonna be able to deal with it while hiding safely within his shadows. There's nothing comfortable about facing your problems.

So, what does all of this say about the fact that his shadows disappear around Elain? Since his shadows appear when he is uncomfortable, this indicates that Elain makes him feel comfortable. Since his shadows appear to protect him, this indicates that he does not believe Elain is someone he needs to be protected from. Since his shadows appear when he wants to hide, this indicates that he does not feel the need to hide from Elain. When Elain is around, he does not need his shadows to be his companion because she is his companion. He doesn't need his shadows to act as a safe space because she is his safe space.

It is also important to note that Az is not doing this on purpose. Some people are saying that he's purposely hiding his shadows from her when he's actually not. And we know this is the case because Az is indeed capable of forcing his shadows to vanish, as when he first meets Elain and Nesta, Feyre comments on how both Rhys and Az had dimmed their shadows. But it's been established that Az's shadows sometimes act on their own. They are a part of him in a way, but they are also separate from him, which is also indicted by the fact he wasn't born with them. There is a clear difference in the books between Az's shadows lightening on their own and him purposely making them disappear. They are two different things, which I think is telling.

And now, I've saved what I think is the most important part for last.

I have never seen anyone talk about this, and maybe I'm reaching, but I think that this scene is important. This is when Az is teaching Feyre how to fly. Feyre implies that Az seems the most human when his shadows are gone, and she describes his face as stark and clear. I find it interesting that the world "clear" was used. Clear has many different definitions, including open, transparent, liberate, free from uncertainty, and cloudless/bright. Maybe I'm reading too much into this, but I feel like this is important because Az definitely needs to be more clear/open about a lot of things in his life. I don't think he needs to be rid of his shadows or anything, but he definitely needs to stop using them as a crutch, as a way to hide, and as place to retreat to when he doesn't want to face his feelings.

Okay this ended up being longer than I anticipated, and if you managed to read this whole clusterfuck, thank you. I would love to hear what you guys think, or if there's anything you guys would like to add 💙🌺

[blueeyedheizer]

avoid - michael gray

WARNINGS: mentions of death, pregnancy

A/N: not sure if I like this or not lol, also it's not really proofread (actually yes i've proofread it about 50 times but my brain is barely functioning sksjdjdb) aaaand I still don't know how to end my fics

•••

You felt like you were living with a ticking time bomb waiting to blow off. You weren't sure what had caused Michael to be so cold and distant with you today but you knew that if it had anything to do with work, it was better to let him deal with it on his own. He had never been violent towards you —and you knew he would never be— but the idea of him raising his voice at you still made you nervous.

It all started this morning when he got up at about 5 to answer a call and didn't get back to bed after that. Instead he got dressed and left without a word, leaving you alone until he came back in the afternoon. You had figured Tommy must have needed him to take care of something important, but as the day went by and he was still in a mood it was getting clear that it had nothing to do with business.

"My mom wants to pay us a visit next week." you speak hesitantly as Michael walks through the door. He quickly walks past you, whispering a small "alright" on his way.

"She said she has a surprise for us. Probably has to do with the baby." you try to smile but he avoids your gaze. He only nods before grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and leaving the room silently. Your watch him walk away with concern, the worst thoughts starting to occupy your mind.

Was he seeing someone else? Was he planning on breaking up with you?

You glanced down at your growing bump and shook your head before going back to the dishes, trying not to overthink the situation.

But soon enough, you grew tired of the deafening silence in the house and the lack of company. Michael was definitely avoiding you, staying in his office while you sat alone in the living room, trying to read a book to ease your nerves. With a sigh you closed your book and placed it on the couch next to you before making your way over to your husband's office, determined to get answers.

You didn't even bother to knock before bursting in, causing Michael's head to shoot up and his hand to instinctively reach for the drawer where his gun was safely tucked. He relaxed and leaned back on his chair when he saw you then ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily.

"What is it, Y/N?"

"What is it?" you scoff. "You've been avoiding me all day, I want to know why." you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the doorframe as you waited for an answer.

"I'm not avoiding you." he spoke lowly, as if already annoyed by your presence.

"Oh yeah? Then why are you locked in your office on a sunday, not bothering to speak to me and brushing me off like I'm some stranger you don't want to cross path with?" he doesn't answer and keeps sifting through his papers and writing things down. "Michael, Im talking to you!" you raised your voice.

"Fucking hell Y/N, just leave me alone! You’ve been here all day trying to get me to talk when I clearly don't fucking want to talk to you! You really can't take a hint, can you? Just get the fuck out of here!” he suddenly yells as his first collides with the desk, making you flinch. Your body tenses and the room fills with a heavy silence as you stare at each other, his eyes hard and cold while your own fill with tears, trying hard not to let them slip. You were already a pretty emotional person, but your pregnancy made it all worse so it was obvious you'd start tearing up at the slightest confrontation. After a moment he rips his gaze away from yours and you open your mouth before closing it again. Your heart is beating fast in your chest and you can almost feel a wave of nausea.

"I'm just trying to help, Michael." you murmur, voice shaking.

"Well I don't need your help!"

After a few seconds you walk out of the room, closing the door behind you and allowing yourself to sob.

You hear a few muffled curse words coming from the office as you make your way back into the living room, soon followed by the sound of the door opening.

"Fuck, Y/N, wait!" Michael suddenly calls out, storming out of the room and running after you. Before you knew it his arms are wrapped around your waist from behind, his thumb tracing circles over your belly as he holds you close. You don't try to push him away but you sob into your hands in shame of not being able to control yourself around him, your hormones getting the best of you.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry. Fuck, I didn't mean any of this." he spoke softly, in complete contrast with his previous outburst. He holds you and waits for your sobs to die down, occasionally pressing kisses on your cheeks and neck while his hand rubs your belly in a soothing manner. "I'm sorry, love. I love you so much." he chokes on his words as tears escape his eyes as well.

You try to focus on your breathing and control your sobs as you wipe your tears, holding your arms close to yourself while looking down.

"We're having a baby, Michael." you remind him. "You can't keep everything to yourself and just let me sit and watch when you're going through something. You can't just avoid me like the fucking plague whenever you're upset. Not anymore." you manage to say, a few hiccups cutting you mid-sentence as you speak.

"I know baby. I'm so sorry." Michael takes a deep breath before pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. He's silent for a few more seconds, swinging you back and forth in his arms and letting you calm down before speaking up.

"My foster mom died." he finally admits softly. His arms tighten around you, refusing to let you go in fear that you would leave. Your eyes soften and you reach to rest a hand on his cheek, leaning up to press a small kiss to his jaw.

"I'm sorry." you say softly.

"I shouldn't have left her like I did. I abandoned her when I met the Shelbys and," he sighs. "I don't know. I shouldn't have cut all ties with my foster family so suddenly. Now it's too late and the woman who raised me for most of my life will never get to see my daughter." you stay silent for a moment, trying to think of an answer.

"She knew you loved her. And she also knew the life you had with her was not the life you were meant to live. You were raised as Henry, but deep down you've always been Michael. I'm sure she never blamed you for leaving." you say and he nods. You eventually let go of his embrace and turn around to wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him as properly as you can with your 5 months pregnant belly getting on the way. You both stay silent for a moment, his hand running through your hair soothingly.

"I really wish you'd told me sooner."

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I really am. I know stress is bad for the baby and I didn't want you to worry about me but I ended up doing the exact opposite." you pulled back and kissed him softly, reaching up to wipe a tear from his cheek.

"It's alright. Just promise me you won't keep these kind of things to yourself anymore. I lost my father too, you know. I know what it's like to lose someone you love." Michael nods before kissing you again, letting it linger for a moment before pecking your lips again.

You look up at him with a smile before pulling away to rest your hands on your belly, looking down at your clothed skin which grew more and more with each day.

"She's been kicking a lot lately." you smile.

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm." you nod and watch as he gets down on one knee, lifting your shirt up and kissing your growing skin as your hands rest on your hips. You chuckle at the feeling and place his hand above your belly button, your own resting on top of his, waiting for something to happen. You eventually guide his hand a few inches lower and a huge smile breaks on both your faces when you feel a rather hard kick, quickly followed by a second one a little further away from the first.

With one last kiss to your swollen skin Michael gets back on his feet and cradles your face, pulling you in for a passionate kiss which you gladly return.

"You're going to be the most amazing mom."

[laurensxox]

Fandom :: The Arcana

Pairing :: Julian Devorak x Reader (Not Apprentice)

Requested? :: no

Warning/s :: Julian's Route (Upright) and New Tale Spoilers, Named Apprentice, Female Reader, Chronic Illness, Swearing, Author is projecting their longing

Genre :: Angst

Summary :: Julian spends the night reminiscing over childhood memories and longing to go back to the past where he was in Nevivon again, playing as carefree as one can be with the one person he truly cared about other than his younger sister

Author's Note :: Stark, if you're reading this, I'm fighting you for this dramatic, self-sacrificing dumbdumb-

Song Inspiration :: Talking to the Moon by Bruno Mars

Portia's Cottage :: Just After Sundown

A chuckle left the auburn haired man as he watches Pasha relay stories of their childhood to their friends, informing them of how they were raised by a group of grandmothers and how their parents actually perished from a shipwreck caused by a rather strong storm. Mazelinka quickly add in how much of a troublemaker the two of them has become as the years pass by, didn't even waste the chance to tell them about the tooth fairy situation which caused Julian to go beet red in mild embarassment. Their friends were in no need to know that story!

Shaking his head, he let a more genuine smile form on his face. As embarrassed as he is right now, he was happy to see everyone laughing jovially without the fear of Lucio's plans with the Devil weighing on their shoulders. A warm sensation forms in his chest as he tries to hold in his laughter as Pasha nearly slips on her feet with her excitement to share their history. It was nice to be able to just laugh and and thrive in the positive energy inside the cottage! Even Muriel, their very introverted friend, seems to be relaxed as he lets Allen (Apprentice) braid his hair using flower stems while Asra leans on his side.

Looking at the trio and sensing the strong forming bond between Pasha and the Countess, Julian couldn't help the small pang of longing swell somewhere within himself. He couldn't stop his mind from pushing forward memories he tried to bury and lock away.

"Ilya, help! I'm slipping!"

"Don't worry, I'll catch you!"

The longing pang quickly turned to pain as the memories rushes back to the surface. He could feel his hand start to tremble as the formerly locked away memories barrels it's way to the front of his mind. Jumbled memories of playing tag and tending to scraped knees should have made him feel fond but it makes feel nothing but longing. Longing for a time and companionship he knows he'll never be able to have again.

Taking a deep breath, he hadn't noticed that he had closed his eyes until he opened them. With him being occupied with trying to stir himself away from the path of self-loathing once again, he hadn't noticed how quiet the cottage had gotten, its other residents looking at him with concerned eyes. Not even the Familiars scattered in the room made a noise.

He forced a laugh to ease the sudden change of atmosphere in the cottage, hoping it sounded convincing enough to clear the concern away from his family and friends' eyes. While he has come to terms that it's okay to ask and receive help instead of keeping things to himself, he still struggles with it. And it was obvious with the way he tries to act like he was okay, that he wasn't just bombarded with memories he doesn't want to remember.

"What is with that look, my dear friends? I am perfectly well, no worries!" he exclaimed, giving them his usual smirk and raised eyebrow, internally hoping it'll be enough to convince them that there was nothing to be concerned about. "There is nothing in this world that this handsome and smart devil can't handle!" His little comment about himself seems to be the right thing to say as his friends immediately rolled their eyes in fond exasperation. Although, by the look of his sister and honorary grandmother, he guessed that they have seen right through him and he can already see his funeral-

He gave a small sigh and let a small weary look replace his earlier expression, "I'll just head outside to take in a quick breath of fresh air," he said as he quickly exited the cottage before his two family member could say anything. Knowing that they'll probably just follow right after him, he quickly made his way away from the cottage and into the hedge maze by the palace gardens. It took him a while to get to the center but he was relieved to see it empty. Consul Valerius has taken to drinking his usual wine there in this time so he was quite happy to see that for once, the Consul broke his routine. He needed to be alone right now.

Taking a seat in one of the chairs surrounding a rounded table, he crossed his arms on the table and used it to rest his head upon. Taking another deep breath to calm his racing heart, he closed his eyes.

Maybe he needs to stop locking away these memories, he has only done so before due to his need to focus on finding the cure for the plague and then having to focus to not get caught by the patrolling palace guards when he was still a wanted convict. The memories and the longing for his childhood best friend used to be a big distraction for him while he was still working under Valdemar.

He didn't need to do any of those anymore... So maybe...

The soft rapid footsteps echoed in the small forest near the town of Nevivon, followed by the childish giggling of two children. Both children wore a tattered white sheet of cloth, the corners wrapped around their necks in a way that resembles that of a cape. Whilst in their heads rests crudely made paper crowns.

Young Julian and his best friend, (Y/N), were already considered too old for these kind of games by some of the grandmas and fellow children but the two gave them no mind, choosing to continue living in their fantasy world until they were truly too old for it.

The two children stopped once they have reached the center of the forest where a small meadow hides in. It was decorated by dozens of wild flowers and the breeze were always refreshing. The two has deemed this as their spot when they had first found it years ago, back when they were much younger.

They call the meadow as their kingdom, where they are the rulers, side by side as King and Queen. The wild flowers are their loyal subjects and sometimes, when Pasha joins them, she acts as their ambassador.

Young Julian kneeled as they reach the very center that they always keep clean, it was their designated throne room. The young boy carefully plucked a blue hued flower from the ground, he didn't know what kind of flower it was but it was pretty, a perfect gift for his 'Queen'

As if mocking the reminiscing man, right across from him and innocently clinging to the hedge wall was the very same flower that he had picked back then. He didn't know if he wants to sneer at it or be fond of it. He wished he has a glass of Salty Bitters right now, maybe he should have headed to Rowdy Raven instead of here.

"Would you have approved of the man that I have become, (Y/N)?" he whispered as he stares at the flower, as if it would miraculously turn into his childhood friend and answer him. Maybe that was possible? Allen did transform him into Asra back then, would the illusion work on a plant as well? But then again, that will be all it'll ever be. Just an illusion.

The grandmas all exchanged fond gazes as they watch their resident troublemakers sing songs with all their heart, their love for the dramatic was very much obvious at that moment.

Little Portia was banging on pots like drums by the sidelines, sometimes singing some lines as well when prompted by either her older brother or the girl she was starting to see as her older sister.

He stood up from his place and started to make his way out of maze. He wasn't going to go back in the cottage nor was he in any hurry, he just felt too restless to stay sitted in one place. He has gotten used to always moving around with all his running from guards and fighting a Major Arcana. But before he went back to trying to find his way in the maze, he stopped in front of the flower that he has been staring at.

It was a small flower with 6 petals that looks blue and violet at the same time, the bud in the middle was light green in color and it was the only flower growing in the hedge. From what Julian remembers, these flowers grow in bundles. So to see one so alone, well, it didn't help the growing hole inside him.

Gently plucking the flower like he did so in his childhood, he observed the flower a little more before making his way back into maze, taking the small flower with him. Surely, the Countess would not mind him plucking such a small wild flower, now would she?

Julian looked up from his book as he felt something soft being places om his hair, looking up, he saw (Y/N) placing what looks to be a bunch of flowers weaved together in a circlet manner on top of his head. Something similar on her own head as well.

"What are you doing, peanut?" he asked the girl, gently closing his book and waiting for the other to finish adjusting the flowers. He had taken to calling her 'Peanut' after he had caught her trying to sneakily take the peanuts in the communal pantry. He didn't snitch to the grandmas, of course.

"Just adjusting your flower crown, bum-bum" she answered, making small more adjustments before appearing satisfied that the flower crown both looks good and will surely stay on her friend's head when they begin to trek their way home later.

The Doctor surprisingly got out pretty easy, definitely faster than when he was first trying to get to the heart of the maze. Looking down at the flower, he let a sad smile adorn his face.

"I suppose even after all these years, you're still my lucky charm, huh, (Y/N)?" he mumbled under his breath, giving the one of the petals a small kiss before continuing to walk.

He didn't really have a destination, the palace grounds was vast and there are still some areas of it that he hasn't been to. Maybe a little exploring wouldn't hurt? He hopes Pasha wouldn't get too worried if he takes too long to get back to her cottage, he does often find himself in troubling situations.

"You know what? I wouldn't even ask how you manage to be in this situation." (Y/N) said, crossing her arms as she narrows her eyes at the boy dangling before her.

Julian had, at that moment, managed to get himself tangled in the vines surrounding the branches of the tree. Truth be told, he was trying to climb the tree in order to get fresh fruits for his sister and best friend. But when he finally managed to get on a branch, a crow suddenly flew out of its nest and caused him to go off balance, fortunately being caught by the vines, no matter how tangled up he got.

He wouldn't tell her that though, lord knows she wouldn't let him live it down.

"Why, my dear peanut, I was just trying to see how strong these vines are and if they would make a good rope!" It was honestly a good excuse for him, but apprently not good enough for (Y/N) as she just raised her eyebrow at him, clearly not believing him.

After a good bit of exploring, he manages to find himself near the fountains where he saw the trio couple making their way back to the palace. Were they on their way home already? How long has he been outside? Shaking his head, he called for their attention and made his way to them.

"Going home already?" he asked, raising a brow as he observes the many colorful flowers adoring Muriel's hair. It was quite a new look on the tall man but it surprisingly suits him. Seeing his friend give him a narrowed look, he moved his gaze to the two magicians.

"Yeah, I'm feeling quite a bit tired already and Asra wanted to do a quick inventory of the stocks we have left in the shop" Allen explained, moving to lightly keep their wild green hair out of their sight. It was getting a little long, they might need a cut soon. "Though, we don't plan to stay there for the whole night, just a quick inventory and dinner then straight to Muri's where we'll sleep for tonight" the apprentice added, giving the taller doctor a smile.

"I see, I see! Well, don't let me hold you back for any longer, have a safe walk home!" he exclaimed, moving to walk further before he was stopped by a gentle grip on his wrist. Turning back, he saw that it was Allen who held him back. He could see the concern swirling in their green eyes but the smile never faltered away from their face. "Yes, dear?" he asked.

"You know you can talk to us if there's something bothering you, right? You don't have to if you're not comfortable but just remember that we're here, okay?" Moved by their words, Julian pulled them into a sideway hug and let out a genuine laugh. He was so lucky to have his friends. Sometimes he still thinks he doesn't deserve them but he knew to keep it to himself for now. He didn't fancy sitting through another lecture session about his self worth by his sister again.

"Aw, Allen, don't you worry about lil 'ol me! I'm quite alright now!" That was a lie, he was far from alright, but his friend doesn't need to know that. "I may talk to Pasha and Mazelinka about it so no need to worry that cute little head of yours" That seemed to settle the Apprentice as they pulled away from the hug and gave his arm one last pat before moving to stand between their partners.

"You should do that now before Portia wears a hole in her carpet with how much she's pacing when we left" Asra said before he and the other two gave the auburn haired man one last wave and left.

Deciding to do as his magician friend said, he started his way back to his sister's cottage. Earlier was such a good day, it wouldn't do to plague his sister with worries and sour up the light mood. He already did that earlier before he walked out, best not make it worse.

Looking up at the dark sky, he smiled as he admires the scattered stars. It was a beautiful night, the full moon was giving the world such a soft look and it made things seem so peaceful. It made him feel like he was back to laying in the meadow near Nevivon. Like he was laying next to... Next to...

He wasn't able to wipe away his tears before they begun to fall down his cheeks. A sob fought its way out of his throat as he falls to a crouch.

Fuck, he wants to go back. He really really wants to go back-

Julian observed the wide sky and the many stars on them, it was a beautiful night and the night breeze was cold and as he lays on the equally cool grass of the meadow, it soothes his heated skin. It made him sigh in contentment, what more could he want?

Looking at his left, he smiled as he sees his sleeping sister. The little girl had decided to join them that night in their nightly star gazing but it didn't take long before she fell asleep, not used to staying up later than her bedtime. He'll have to carry her home later on.

The sight on his right took his breath away. Blush rushed to his face as he seems to see his best friend in a completely different light.

There, laying beside him, was (Y/N). The moonlight was softly hitting her face, and it made her (eye color) so much more brighter like gems, like the stars that littered the dark sky above them. Her laugh as she continues to talk about the astrology that she learned from Mazelinka, sounds like soothing bells to his ears.

Since when has his peanut became this... pretty?

He longs to be in her arms again, he longs to hear her voice again. No doubt it would still sound like music to his ears. He wants to make flower crowns again, he wants to play king and queen again, he wants to stargaze with her again, he wants to sneakily steal cookies, hangout by the hot springs, pick flowers for the grandmas, share lessons with Lilinka, he wants to...

He really wants to see her again.

Julian sat on her bed by her side, his hand gently holding her weaker and much fragile one, her illness eating away her strength. Her ring finger still holds the flower ring he had made earlier that week, it was already wilting but the girl refuses to take it off.

"I made up my mind." he said, breaking the solemn silence in the room. It made the other look at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate.

"I'll take the offer to study medicine in Prakra" he explained, finally looking at his best friend and secretly, the girl who has his heart in her gentle grip for he doesn't think his bestfriend could ever be harsh, other than when she's twisting his ear for getting in trouble without her

But he can't, he knew he can't. She probably hates him, gotten word of his 'crimes' and no longer sees him as her best friend. But as a murderer, a plague doctor who assisted his superior on experimenting to dying plague victims in search of the cure.

She probably already has a family of her own now, has 3 children like she once said she wanted. Probably has a nice spouse that always makes her laugh and will never hurt her. A spouse that doesn't have their sins still haunting them in every step and breath they take.

"You're leaving me?" the pain in her voice was clear, she was hurt at the thought. They had planned to wait for her to be cured before they decide to go out of their hometown to travel, to study medicine like they always dreamed of.

"Not for long, I know we planned to study together but..." He took a deep breath, "I'm doing this for you, (Y/N), I want to study now for you"

Silence filled the room once again.

Julian clutched up at his coat, the place right over his heart where it hurts the most. He had completely fallen to his knees, tears continues to drip down to the ground from his eyes, his other hand gripping the ground.

Whispered apologies leaving his mouth over and over again.

"Promise me you'll come back? That you won't forget about me?"

Julian stared at his love's dull but hopeful (eye color) orbs, hisbhand momentarily leaving hers to gently caress her cheek.

"I'm so sorry... (Y/N), I'm so sorry..."

"I promise"

"I broke our promise... I'm so sorry, my love..."

[...]

Meanwhile, in the same meadow of Julian's memories, sits a much grown up version of the girl in his memories. Body trembling as sobs come right after one another, clutching a bundle of those same blue wildflowers to her chest. Her eyes tightly shut as tears falls to the ground of her childhood. The girl looked up, staring at the same moon that Julian was previously admiring.

"Where are you, Ilya? I thought you'll come back... You promised... You promised..."

Anyone interested in a reunion sequel? 👀

My apologies if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes, I just woke up when I finished this lol

Anyways, I hope you all liked this! Let me know what you think, don't be shy! 💙

[aficwhore]

Truth Is (Chapter 3)

Chapter 3: Paper Weighted Problems

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!reader

Summary: After the night before, tensions between Fish and Chip arise. While tearing through the jungle and Lorea’s place, Frankie and the reader fight, leading to an amazing discovery.

Word count: 3K

Warnings: explicit language, blood, violence, guns/weapons, lots of angst and emotions, infidelity?, smut, sexual innuendos, drinking, mentions of drugs, talk of death/death itself, and talk of mental health(PTSD and depression).

A/N: Sorry for the late update, Life has its ups and downs! Today we had a bad storm so I sat in my basement and wrote this. I hope you like it<3

Regret. Frankie couldn't hide the emotion from me. It was as clear as day, I wondered if the boys had noticed it. 

“Well what’s for breakfast?” I broke the awkward silence, causing everyone but Frankie to break their gazes away from me, but exchanges looks between each other. I finally looked anywhere but in Frankie’s direction.

Tom cleared his throat, “Uh nothing special, we saw that you had some frozen waffles and just made those.” He tried to lighten the mood, it was obvious, everyone knew about last night. 

“Haha, yea, what grown woman buys Eggos?” Benny attempted to joke, causing Santi and Will to stifle a laugh. 

I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile, thoughts of Frankie still clouding my mind. “For occasions just like this one! When five grown men have a slumber party in my living room.” I added, walking over to the counter and grabbing a plate full of waffles and dowsing them in syrup.

“Right, because that’s definitely what it was.” Tom chuckled, handing me a napkin.

“Exactly, I’m pretty sure I saw Pope braiding Benny Boy’s hair.” I joked biting into a chunk of food.

Ben scoffed, “It gets in my eyes!” And everyone froze, staring at him in shock. After a second of complete silence, Frankie burst into laughter, sending the rest of us into a laughing fit, except Ben. He stood there blushing, trying to act like he didn’t reveal that he braids his hair.

Will began to cough, struggling to not choke on the mouthful of food while he snickered. Pope roughly patted him on the back as our giggles died down. 

“So, does that mean you sit in the mirror and braid your own hair?” Tom questioned with a smirk on his face, wanting to bother Benny more.

“You shut up.” He jokingly spits. Tom raises his hands as a sign of defeat and continues to finish the last bites of food on his plate.

“Anyways...Other than our ‘slumber party’ I know two people that had some fun last night.” Pope spoke up, causing mine and Fish’s eyes to open wide.

“Oh yea, how could we forget? ‘Oh FrAnKiE, Oh YeS! HaRdEr!’” Benny mimicked me while thrusting his hips for dramatic affect. I could feel heat rising to my face as the boys roared with giggles again. 

“Would you cut it out?” Frankie replied, wanting to avoid this talk entirely. 

Then Pope joined in, making fun of Frankie, “’FuCk, bAbY, I wOn’T LaSt LoNg!’” I sat there, embarrassed and not knowing what to say. Normally this would be a joke, but with everything, this wasn’t a joking matter.

“I said enough!” Frankie shouted, “It shouldn’t have happened, okay?!” He expressed, shoving his chair back, getting up, and storming outside.

All the commotion died immediately. Pope and Benny opened their mouths to apologize when they turned to me, but were met with a blank stare.

Did he really mean that? After pursuing me? After trying so hard to make up, he goes and says ‘It shouldn’t have happened.’

Everyone remained quiet, continuing to stare at me in concern. After what felt like hours, Tom pushed his seat back and got up, hopefully headed to catch Frankie.

Once Tom had made it out the front door, I cleared my throat, "So, what time are we leaving?" I asked, trying to hide all the hurt and pain from my eyes.

The three remaining men all exchanged looks, "Here in 15." Santi spoke quietly, unsure of what exactly just happened.

"Sounds good!" I faked enthusiasm, stuffing my mouth with the last bite on my plate and getting up. I swiftly put my dishes in the sink and headed back to my room. I could hear the boys whispering to each other, trying to understand what the hell was going on with Frankie and I.

I closed my door behind me. I leaned against it, letting my head fall back with defeat and hit the door. Feeling my emotions topple over the brim, tears rushed to my eyes as I slid down the door and sank to the floor.

What the fuck was going on? Why was Frankie so upset with our actions. I thought finally we had made up, that he was once again MY Fish. Had he just used me last night? What changed his mind? Why was this happening all over again?

Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't realized that my sobs were now audible. I couldn't hold back the garbled gasps I let out. Tears stained my cheeks and began to soak my shirt.

Through the door I could hear the boys trying to get each other to come get me, because it was close for us to leave. Not wanting to deal with the water works anymore, I slapped my cheeks a few times, trying to smack the emotions out of my head. I wiped my tears off and quick got up to change my shirt.

After rummaging through my clothes, I found a similar shirt, threw it on and swung open the door, wanting to just head to the airport, and to get this over with.

Holding my head up high, I confidently walked back to the kitchen/living room to meet the boys. Only Benny and Will stood there waiting for me, finishing the dishes and putting them away.

"All set? I'm ready to get this over with and be rich." I attempted to joke, causing the brothers in front of me to awkwardly chuckle, their eyes full of worry.

Benny shook his head, acknowledging that I wanted to ignore the fiasco and to get on the road. He led the way out of the apartment after hanging up a dish towel and grabbing his wallet and keys off the counter.

I followed quickly behind him with Will right on my heels. When we made it to the cars, Frankie sat in the front passenger side of Santi's truck, Santi in the driver seat, and Tom between them.

"I'll drive," Will offered, making his way to his truck and getting in. Benny walked ahead of me, opened the door and waited for me to hop in, before getting in after.

No one spoke as we tailgated Santi's truck all the way to the airport. Will placed his hand on my thigh the whole time, as a way to console me. Benny had his arm around me, slightly pulling me into his side. With them, I felt much better, they were my best friends and knew exactly how to comfort me.

When we found a good parking space, we all hopped out, and grabbed our things from the bed of the trucks. It was still awkwardly silent between everyone.

As we checked into our flights and went through TSA, Benny tried to lighten the mood by saying he needed a snack, even though we had just ate. We all giggled when Will called him a 'garbage disposal.'

Sitting at our flight gate was almost unbearable, realizing this mission would be very difficult, now with the added tension.

When we boarded the plane, Will and Santi sat with me, of course I was in the middle. Tom, Benny, and Frankie sat in the seats next to us. During the first hour I attempted to read a book, but quickly got bored as I felt Pope fall asleep and rest his head against my shoulder. Will sat with his eyes closed and headphones in.

I glanced over Pope's sleeping frame to find the others. Benny was leaned forward, head down and snoring on the tray he had propped up. Tom was slouched in his chair, his head lulling back and forth with sleep consuming him. And Frankie, who was also reading, looked up and met my eyes.

I ignored the gaze he gave me and turned my attention back to my book. Moments later I felt my phone buzz with a text. I sat my book down and pulled out my phone, reading the message;

Fishie: "I'm sorry..."

I rolled my eyes, was he really apologizing for his blowout, over a text?

Locking my phone, I put it face down into my lap, leaving the message unanswered. I continued my page in my book, only getting past a few sentences before my phone vibrated again. I acted as if I didn't feel it and remained reading. Only for it to ping again.

Frustratedly, I opened my phone again, seeing two additional texts;

Fishie: "Really?"

Fishie: "I meant what I said. I am sorry, but last night... was a mistake."

Heat began to rise to my cheeks, I forcefully typed back;

Me: "Wow, you are unbelievable."

I heard him shuffle and type back quickly;

Fishie: "Because I apologized? It's true, I'm only helping us both here. Yea it was my fault, but I shouldn't have gone to your room."

Me: "You took advantage of my feelings. You acted like we can just ignore this, I can't help but feel you led me on."

Fishie: "Led you on?! How? WE both decided to sleep together, thats it. I didn't LEAD you to do anything."

Me: "You're a real fucking piece of work."

Fishie: "Oh really?"

Me: "Yea, fuck you."

Fishie: "God you are the most stubborn and hard headed person I've ever met. Can't you see that this was a damn mistake?"

Me: "Screw you, oh wait, I did, but look where that got me. I don't even know why you're trying to apologize, because somehow you keep shifting the blame to me."

As I hit send and shoved my phone between my legs and put my book away, I heard Frankie huff with anger. Awaiting a reply I closed my eyes and leaned against Will, using his arm as a pillow.

But for a while, nothing came, and I slowly began to drift into unconsciousness.

My sleep had been interrupted by the plane shaking and a loud thump. I opened my eyes abruptly, and slightly frightened. I faced Will, to glance out the window and found that we had finally landed in Colombia.

We all silently gathered our things and slowly made our departure from the plane and airport. Once we trudged through the doors, we made it into the humid climate, the wet air immediately dampening our skin and clothes.

"Damn, this is gonna be fun." Benny chirped as we all huddled into the jeep Santi had prepared for us. Santi hopped upfront, and so did Tom, leaving four of us to try and fit in the backseat.

"Pope, there six of us, there's no way we'll fit AND have room for the bags." I spoke up, watching as Will, Benny, and Frankie smushed into the seats together.

"I know, I promise I'm more prepared than that," he laughed. "We only have to ride like this for a few miles, then we're on foot, and they'll have cargo vans there." He explained, turning on the engine and motioning for me to somehow get in.

"You can sit on my lap, I'll hold you down during Pope's insane driving." Benny laughed from between Will and Fish. I climbed over Will, careful not to hurt him, and landed in Ben's lap when he yanked the arm I used to brace my weight.

I twisted in his lap to sit comfortably, hoping I'd fit and we could just hurry up and get this over with. Benny wrapped his arms around my waist as Santi sped off and made way to a long and bumpy road.

We hit quite a few bumps and potholes, causing me to shift and bounce in Benny's lap. I tried to lean forward and hang in-between the two front seats, to help alleviate the rough contact between us.

"Damn it Chip, quit wiggling." Benny grunted from behind me.

"I can't control that, Pope is hitting every possible bump on the road." I squeaked as we hit a particularly hard one. I landed back into his lap and felt something. "Ouch, what the hell is in your pocket."

Will snorted and faced the window to hide his face as Benny gulped loudly. "I-I can't help it, you keep moving!" I froze, wanting to still believe it was something in his pocket.

"C'mon man, can't you control yourself?" Frankie angrily spoke up.

I pulled my back from Benny and sat as far forward on his legs as I could, turning to look at Frankie. "What? How is it-" I countered, my voice dying in my throat.

"Fish, you know how it works, it's not like I'm doing this on purpose." Benny awkwardly explained.

Frankie huffed and shook his head. "Whatever." he muttered.

"Looks like someone is jealous." Santi quietly joked.

"I am not jealous! We-we are on a damn mission! That should be the last thing from anyones mind, we need to focus on not dying and getting the fucking money." Frankie snapped, filling the jeep with his booming voice.

All noise ceased, the only sound was the creaking of the car as we rolled off the main road into a trail. The tension was at an all time high, it was engulfing and in a way, suffocating.

After some time, we stopped, Santi throwing the car in park and quickly turning to us. "My informant said that the mansion should be vacant, but we only have about 15 minutes, so we get in and get out, with as much as we can carry, but we can't take too much time." We all nodded. "When I get the signal, we're coming in hot and getting right to it. Get out and suit up." He turned back around and hopped out.

We followed behind, pulling out our bags and pulling on our gear. Not much else was said, due to the shit that was about to go down, even though it would be empty, you never know what could happen.

"Alright, obviously with everything, we no longer fit, I'll ride the side." I spoke, waiting for Will to get in and shut the door.

"Me too, easier that way." Frankie offered, shutting his door after Benny jumped in.

Will shut his door and I placed my foot on the step bar, hauling myself up to grab the rack on top for support, hanging on tight as Frankie did the same. "All good?" Pope asked through the window.

"Game time bitches." I quirked, slapping my free hand on the top of the Jeep. As we waited for the signal, I took in my surroundings, lush, thick forest all the way around, If Pope doesn't know where to go, we'd definitely get lost.

As I admired the greenery, I turned to look over the roof of the car, meeting Frankie's eyes for what seemed like the millionth time since we've reunited.

He sheepishly looked away and down at the ground, his knuckles which wrapped around the frame of the rack, tightened and turned white.

A garbled and staticky noise came from the cab of the vehicle, causing Pope to slam the gear shift into drive and yell "Hold on tight!" He lurked the jeep forward, stepping up the speed.

I held on tighter, pulling my body as flush as I could to the side of the Jeep, to avoid hitting the branches and brush that littered the sides of the overgrown trial.

After a long blur of green, the forest broke into a path, leading to a small mansion. Just as fast as we drove, we stopped. I jumped off and quickly swung the door open for Will, stepping back and pulling my gun from my side.

Without any words, we all strategically filed into the house, making sure to take cover and search the premise, eliminating any threats. The first floor had been barren, as for people, though it was filled with expensive artwork and furniture.

Once we all searched and met at the staircase, Pope nodded at me, signaling for me to take the lead upstairs and sweep the area. I quickly glided up the stairs and took cover near the first door, getting ready to burst in the room and check. To my luck, when I leaped into the room, it was empty. I glanced behind the door, and walked further into the office, keeping my gun at attention.

I could hear the boys doing the same, in the last four rooms. I observed the room, a big desk sat in the middle, a fancy chair accompanied it, the walls were decorated with paintings and portraits. The was a door in the corner, which I strode over to, swinging it open, full force. An alarmed Fish sat on the other side, the door led to the next room. I quickly pointed my gun at the ground and rolled my eyes, turning to examine the room again.

"Clear!" I yelled, letting the team know our section was safe.

Frankie walked through the door and up to me, as I sifted through the desk. "Hey I just wanted to talk real quick."

"Really? Now is not the time, look for the money." I spat back at him. "Any luck?!" I yelled hoping someone found something.

A faint voice answered, "No! I swear, she said there was money here!" Pope echoed.

Getting antsy, I shoved the desk, causing it to fall over, Frankie stepped back, "Listen, I didn't mean to make things worse, okay? Trust me I wanted nothing more than to be with you again."

I paused my movements, holding a paperweight in my hand, "No Frankie, you've done enough, either you want me or don't." I spoke harshly.

"Damn it Chip, just listen!" He raised his voice.

"No! I'm not doing this again, get your shit together and fucking look for something!" I yelled, bending down to put the weight down. He leaned forward and grabbed my arm. "Fuck you!" I yanked away, causing the paper weight to leave my hand and barrel into the wall.

The wall cracked, a hole forming as the weight bounced off and fell to the ground. "Look at what you did!" Frankie gasped with frustration.

I whipped around, walking to the wall, grabbing the paperweight. As I stood, I stopped halfway up when I was met with the hole. But it wasn't just an empty wall or beam behind it. There were plastic packages sticking out, which is very unusual for houses. Frankie began to murmur again.

"Shh! Shut Up!" I shushed him, reaching into the hole and tugging at the bag.

"You never let me talk-" Frankie continued.

"Frankie shut the fuck up! Look!" I screamed when the bag came out of the wall and into my hands. I Twisted on my heel and showed him the bag, which contained a huge stack of One-hundred dollar bills.

"Holy Fuck." Frankie gulped, making eye contact with me.

TAGLIST @tanyaherondale @winter-fox-queen @supernaturalgirl @actual-spawn-of-satan @hnt-escape @toomanystoriessolittletime @shadowolf993 @goldielocks2004

*if your user has a strike through, it wouldn’t let me tag you*

[lunarfly]

Defending Harmione part 3!

I'm back to defend my fav ship!

I have a part 1 where I debunked some of the most popular arguments against Harmione and in part 2 I debunked the "siblings" argument. Time for part 3! This one is going to be about a video on YouTube titled "Why Harry and Hermione Wouldn't Work - Harry Potter Video Essay" and I'll go over the points the YouTuber made and try my best to debunk them. 💘

Also, I accept that there's still a few minor flaws to the ship, but these little flaws and obstacles make every ship beautiful. 🥀

1. "It would be too cliche. The hero gets the smartest and prettiest girl as a trophy."

This is a fair argument to the whole story itself, but it doesn't defeat the ship in any way. If you put it in other words: "Harry and Hermione wouldn't work together because they're both very powerful and great and that would make it very cliche." That's silly. But even that isn't right. The situation isn't exactly how people make it seem.

Hermione isn't the all-perfect girl, the most beautiful, the most intelligent, everything perfect. She has flaws, many flaws (which weren't portrayed in the movies) and she is a very realistic character. She is intelligent and productive, she is a perfectionist in a way, but that also causes her to be very anxious and stressed out at moments, she puts too much pressure on herself, and she's also insecure! Who said Hermione was the most beautiful one? Just because Emma Watson was gorgeous doesn't mean Hermione was too. Of course, Harry thought she was pretty according to OotP, but it's clearly stated in the books that she wasn't the prettiest girl in the series. Fleur, Cho and even Ginny were much more beautiful. Hermione is NOT the perfect superstar.

You might say that even if she's not perfect, she's still the female lead. But the actual "cliche" part is about the hero ending up with the perfect superstar and not necessarily with the other lead hero.

So back to Hermione being the brightest witch of her age. But her being very bright and powerful doesn't make her a bad match for Harry. Ginny was very smart in fact, she was beautiful and funny, very sassy and confident. Why isn't she considered as a trophy for Harry?

The point is, NO, Hermione is NOT a perfect all-star and their relationship wouldn't even have to be built on the hero and the heroine being perfect, their relationship would be built on trust and loyalty.

2. "Harry and Hermione's relationship prove that a male and a female can be friends without having a romantic relationship, so we shouldn't ruin that."

Yes, it's truly a beautiful demonstration that a male and a female can be best friends, but this says nothing that's actually against the ship, just like the previous one. If you put this in other words, it would sound like this: "Harry and Hermione were amazing best friends so they can't date." I understand that their friendship was amazing, but that in no way means their relationship would be bad. Of course, you don't have to see their relationship as romantic just because they were good friends, you can see it as platonic, but I'm just saying that the argument makes no sense.

Besides, was Hermione really the only female friend Harry had? What about Luna? What about Ginny (if you consider Harry and Hermione start dating and Ginny remains a friend, she was clearly very included after OoTP)? What about Ron's friendship with Hermione? What about Ron and Luna's friendship? What about Neville and Luna's friendship? What about Harry's quidditch teammates (Alicia, Katie, Angelina)? Why does everyone always make it seem like Hermione was the only female friend he had? Surely she was his only BEST friend but then Ron and Hermione were best friends too...

3. "It ruins the dynamic of the story. Harry's relationships were never meant to be the main focus, just a demonstration of his maturity. While Ron and Hermione's relationship developing in the background is nice to see."

I really didn't want to drag Romione into this because it's my second favorite ship from the entire Harry Potter universe. Just a disclaimer that anything I say here is not meant to bash Romione and hate on it because I'm truly a big fan of them and their love is undeniable.

I also mention Ginny and Harry's relationship in this and I have to say they're ALSO one of my favorite ships in the entire hp universe so no hate to them either. 🥺

Okay, so, basically every point he made in his video was about the story and not their actual relationship. The title is wrong, this doesn't show why Harry and Hermione wouldn't work, he's just saying how it would change the storyline. But I think we are all already aware that Harry and Hermione getting together would change a lot in the story. But I'll go over it anyways.

First of all, I don't entirely agree that Harry's relationships weren't the main focus, I mean half of the half-blood prince was about him developing feelings for Ginny-

But anyways, if Harry and Hermione were going to end up together, it would still happen in a similar way. We have all read the beautiful moments they shared together throughout the books, and those would've been enough for them to develop their feelings, but just not realize it until the last 2 books. We wouldn't have to add in any scenes that would change the story massively to lead them to falling in love, honestly, we had enough already in the books. So the only thing that would change would be probably Harry not developing feelings for Ginny, but instead slowly realizing his feelings for Hermione. Simple!

And as for Romione, I agree, the slowburn was beautiful, but we could've had the same thing, same development but as a friendship! Ron's character arc is one of my favorite things about the series and nobody can convince me that it wasn't amazing. Instead of Ron changing for Hermione to become her lover, we could have Ron changing for her to become a better friend. His character arc remains the same and Ron Hermione become best friends. Of course this would change many scenes and the storyline would've changed a lot as I already mentioned, but hey! At least we wouldn't have Ron haters who bash him for mAkInG hErMiOnE cRy. 🤡 And JKR could add different scenes instead of the ones hinting at Ron and Hermione's romantic relationship. We still would have had a beautiful story with a VERY SIMILAR dynamic.

4. "Harry wasn't the kind of guy Hermione was looking for. She already made a mistake with dating Viktor Krum, and she realized she didn't need a hero. She was a hero herself. Although Harry ≠ Viktor, they have very similar qualities like: bravery, loyalty and they are both heroes."

This is probably the best argument of the entire *almost* 5 minute video.

But there's still so much wrong with this.

Bravery and loyalty are literally Ron's best traits lmao. That's exactly why she chose him. 🤣 Every Romione shipper knows she doesn't value intelligence and looks, she values bravery, courage, loyalty. That's exactly what she said in the first book and stuck by it until the end.

She didn't need a hero? She was a hero herself? - Then why are we forgetting that Ron was also a hero? Everyone always makes it seem like Harry and Hermione are the mighty heroes and Ron is their goofy sidekick. He was also a hero! I believe he is even on the chocolate frog cards (correct me if I'm wrong)! And we all know that's the biggest flex. 😌

But besides that, Ron and Harry are very similar in many ways. They're both brave, they're both loyal, they both like to have fun, they're both lazy, they're both amazing at quidditch, they're both talented (Harry is very powerful and he's good at DADA, while Ron can do many impressive things like mimic voices and come up with quick solutions even when he's under pressure and his life depends on it!). So if Hermione liked one and thought he was her "type", then there's a hight possibility she liked the other too. In canon, she only likes Ron obviously, but I'm saying that since Ron and Harry are so similar and share the same traits, Hermione could've chosen Harry too.

Anyways, that's all that the video included, it was very nice hearing different opinions and I actually wasn't writing this out of anger like I wrote the post about defending Romione against *the ridiculously stupid* arguments that Dr*mione shippers like to use.

Once again, if it isn't clear, I STAN both Romione and Hinny, but Harmione definitely could've worked. :)

Thanks for reading! ~ Lia <3

Art: Asha47110 on DeviantArt :)