#the exact opposite of a dog whistle
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If anyone's interested in knowing what T can do for your voice lmfao
Note that when I started T my range was like
F6-Ab2 so I wasn't exactly a vocal slouch or anything, and I have recordings of me hitting both of those apexes as a youngster. I was what you'd call a freakish dramatic soprano.
But then I did T for like a year and a half in 2018-2019 and it dropped my range from the above to like F2-F4 which was DEVASTATING. That halved my range.
But now, five years later? After stopping T in June of 2019 due to heart issues and severe voice grieving and dysphoria? My range is FIVE FUCKING OCTAVES and I can sing to the bottom of the piano yo!!!
I'm not saying everyone can do this that goes on T.
T is a process and it will likely change your range DRASTICALLY. But new things can come out of it. If I had never gone on T I wouldn't have gotten to tour in Europe as a lead bass in a choir or do some of the non profit musical work I've done.
I thought T ruined my voice for a long time. And I still miss being able to sing phantom of the Opera high notes some days. But I think what I can do now is sorta hella cool.
#vocalist#vocal range#singer#extreme voices#the exact opposite of a dog whistle#extreme vocal range#extreme vocalist#large vocal range#transition#transmasc#transgender#ftm#testosterone
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why did you tag your post with gaz erasure my ass? like what was hard to believe that the cod fandom has blatant patterns of purposefully removing the only black character and replacing him with everyone under the sun? your friend lied about killing themself to make them look like a victim. and you participated in harassing people who saw this for what it was. you need to step back and reflect on your own self on why you thought that your friend’s “death” was caused by people calling out patterns of anti black racism and then go on to harass them. you are not an ally by any means.
Back when I used that tag, I paired it with another tag right after, it was meant to be an aggressive call out on misinformation, I had meant for it to read as 'Gaz erasure my ass, y'all just can't read'.
(This because the original post didn't read like intentional erasure but rather like codslut thought Gaz didn't fit the post, since she also didn't use Reboot Soap, she used *Captain* Soap, idk how best to explain it but to me the two soaps are different characters so i figured it was an intentional choice to use him and keegan rather than reboot soap and gaz)
Edit: I want to add that I also used codslut's own explanation as the basis for why I didn't think it was erasure. And at this point, she's clearly not to be fucking trusted, so it wouldn't surprise me if it really *was* erasure/racism and I believed her word that it wasn't.
As time went on, I dropped the last part of the tag of 'y'all just can't read', and looking back it not only reads as a racist dog whistle but also, just in general, sounds and looks fucking disgusting.
I've said this before, but I think it warrants saying again: I *didn't* mean to say Gaz erasure doesn't exist. It does very much exist in the community and even Activision themselves often erase Gaz from promo materials.
I'd hate for people to think that I either dislike Gaz or don't see the blatant racism/dislike/erasure that happens with him on the community. That's not the case. Gaz is a main character (unlike König like so many people try to replace him with) who I absolutely adore, and I call out erasure when I see it here on Tumblr, on Tiktok and on Twitter.
I never meant to make it seem like Gaz erasure doesn't exist. I only wanted to call out misinformation... and ended up doing the exact opposite of both my intentions. I'm sorry about that. It was not just disgusting but full on stupid of me.
I also want to say that I didn't think that that screenshot post specifically or even the act of people calling out racism where they saw it was the cause for codslut possibly killing herself. That is not what I meant at all. And I don't want anyone to think I blame @soapskneebrace or @glossysoap or anyone else for that. Blood was never on their hands, I want to make that very clear!!!!
When I was confronting people, I was doing so on the basis that they're big creators with big platforms and that by accusing codslut of racism/erasure they opened the door for anons to justify their actions when going after codslut because they have so much reach and people with bad intentions need less than that to justify the hate they send people.
Looking back, I know I was in the wrong for how I spoke. I was aggressive and rude and mean, and none of the people involved deserve that. Hell, my actions were hypocritical as hell and I probably opened the door for them to get hate themselves. I'm really fucking sorry.
If I could take it back, I would. I never believed nor wanted them to believe that someone potentially harming themselves was their fault. It wasn't.
I do plan on taking a step back to reconsider not just the way I acted but everything that's happened. In fact, I was already taking said break and came online only because I got word of @/fulltacs' post.
I appreciate and thank you for holding me accountable (and by that I mean you and everyone!). And I especially thank *you* anon for wording this ask this way, and giving me, at least, a chance to explain.
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it's so annoying to see people post things like "I don't care if you're just a fandom account you can't ignore what's happening, spread awareness, speak out". well I can and I will. idgaf. especially bc what they mean by "spread awareness" is always "uncritically repost what My Side says". if I spoke about synagogues being targeted and Jewish homes being marked with a star of David, and told Jews to arm themselves and protect each other, would they still encourage me to "use my platform"?
Right?
They love to use neutral language because it lets them pretend that their views are the mainstream, common sense positions. Which is usually the exact opposite of the truth. Using this kind of language also signals to people who are sensitive to their dog whistles that failure to comply will met with accusations of extremism. Don't want to reblog something about the fake trans genocide to your Spy x Family fan blog? Then you're a violent transphobe who wants all trans people to die, and we're going to tell everyone you know so you lose all your friends and get thrown out of all your online spaces. Which, imo, is the main point of these posts. Most probably don't really care about spreading "awareness". They're just looking for people they can bludgeon with their temporary mob powers.
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So for those of you living in the UK you might be aware the Conservative Party Conference had a remarkable amount of transphobia at it this year.
For those outside of the UK, the Conservative Party has been the majority party of the UK since 2010 and as such the leader of said party is our Prime Minister. Since Boris Johnson became Prime Minister in 2019 the party has become increasingly transphobic, which is a complete u-turn from the policies of Theresa May who had committed to moving the gender recognition process towards self-ID in the UK. Something the UK Government this year blocked from happening in Scotland and that the Labour Party (the opposition party), has also now dropped its commitment towards.
Since 2018, the media in the UK has been increasingly transphobic more or less exclusively reporting negative stories about trans people that rile up hatred. For example, reporting on trans rapists and murders and being sure to make it very clear the person is trans in the headlines. This along with a lot of opinion pieces aimed to vilify the trans community and especially paint trans women as predatory. The BBC a few years back actually published an article about how trans women were pressuring lesbians into having sex with them. One of their sources in this article was a cis woman who had been accused of sexually abusing women.
This vilification since spread to both our mainstream political parties. The Conservatives are just full on transphobic at this point blockading self-ID in Scotland, politically capturing the Equality and Human Rights Commission to the point it has now suggested changing the definition of “sex” in the Equality Act to mean biological sex (this would effectively act as a very extensive bathroom bill if ever implemented), removing trans people from their proposed conversion therapy ban and then u-turning on that decision but continuing to delay the ban, influencing the NHS in a way that in the future it may become even harder for trans youths to get the care they need and I could go on. It is a long list.
Meanwhile Labour is either on the fence, afraid to take a clear side or are in outright agreement with the Tories while claiming, “We do support trans rights. We really do. But parents have a right to know if their kid is trans, so we support the Tories in teachers having to out students.”
The latter isn’t an exact quote from Starmer (leader of the Labour Party), but he did say parents have the right to know in a proposed policy the Tories have for now abandoned where they wanted teachers to out trans students to their parents.
And while the minority parties have some good policies on paper, many still have transphobia problems they don’t seem to be adequately addressing. Including in the Green Party a trans person who was running to be a local councillor but was the victim of malicious reports that saw her removed from the ballot.
So yeah, so far not great.
But this week the Conservative Party Conference happened and let me give you some highlights:
- Our Prime Minister, Rishi Sunak saying to an applauding crowd that people shouldn’t be bullied into believing people can change sex. A clear transphobic dog whistle and saying, “men are men, women are women. That shouldn’t be controversial. It’s just common sense.”
- Our Home Secretary, Suella Braverman taking a jab at immigrants and asylum seekers as is typical of the Tories and claiming multiculturalism has failed this country. You’d like to think a Government led under our first Prime Minister that is part of a minority ethnic group would like to do positive things for those of minority ethnic groups. But no, let’s stoke up that hatred and declare that, “Britain is for the British.” I should note, that last part isn’t what has been said but is basically what can be inferred.
- Suella Braverman once again talking about “wokery” and “gender ideology” ruining our country. But what is interesting about this, is bare in mind the Conservatives have been really passionate about being the party of free speech, when it comes to bigotry of course. Yet when a gay Conservative member expressed his disapproval at what she said, he was removed from the conference by police and security. I’ll be fair to Braverman in that she said he should be let back in. But that doesn’t change the fact he was removed by security and police. And like dude was literally in his seat and said it in a talking tone and instantly, security and police were on him.
- And our Health Secretary who’s name I can’t be bothered to remember or look up announcing he plans to change the NHS Constitution to ban trans women from women-only wards in response to exactly, zero complaints an NHS report has since found.
There’s a lot to unpack there but I want to address the last point in particular.
So I have been hospitalised 3 times since transitioning;
- Twice in NHS hospitals.
- Once in a private hospital that was being contracted by the NHS.
The private hospital was for my gender reassignment surgery. It being a private hospital and the sensitivity of the procedure, I was placed in a private room. So is moot to my point.
Two other times were an asthma attack in 2015 and me breaking my back and leg in 2021. Both times I was placed on a women-only ward.
So firstly, I just want to say. I don’t fair too well in hospitals. My mental health spirals quickly. When I broke my back and leg, I actually got discharged way earlier than I was physically ready to be discharged under the advice of the Mental Health Crisis Team. Not a bad call on their part. I needed to be discharged and if they hadn’t have done it, i was going to discharge myself against medical advice. I didn’t want to be there any longer than necessary.
But that is anecdotal.
I’ll go into facts now. So the claim is that this is so women get privacy, dignity and safety amongst other things.
So whenever I have been on a women-only ward, people get visitors. There’s no sex requirement on who is allowed on the ward to visit, from my experience. So men are already on the ward in the form of visitors, even if all the patients are women.
It is true, you have the right to ask you be seen by a doctor or nurse of the same-sex. However, other patients and the ward may not have requested this so there will still be male nurses, doctors, porters, etc doing their jobs.
And when it comes to privacy and dignity, all beds have a privacy curtain.
Additionally, in the aspect of safety there are staff on the ward 24/7.
But I just highlighted here, a women-only ward is only women-only when it comes to patients. Not other people who maybe on the ward for whatever reason.
Now tell me, who is more a threat there. The trans woman laid up in bed because she in hospital for what is likely a very good reason or is it maybe staff or visitors who will be in a far more able state. That is the safety aspect granted.
Then with the privacy and dignity aspect, you’d have to go much further than just removing trans women of the wards if you are classifying us as “men”.
It’s BS.
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i log on to twitter. i see someone point out that a terf dog whistle is a transmisogynystic phrase and they get ratio'd by people who seem to be in a reading incomprehension contest with each other. i check the bio of any person thats dunking on the tweet, and they are either a literal terf, or a teenager who thinks theyre correct in siding with the terfs
people claim op is themselves transmisogynystic and calling transwomen men (they are doing the exact opposite of that)
i laugh at the dumb discourse and go to unfollow whoever put the tone deaf quote retweet criticizing op for pointing out a terf dog whistle on my timeline
the person who put it on my timeline is one of my mutuals
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Right Wing Online Feminism: TERF(Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminism)
Using some of the listed terms in 'HOW TO SPOT TERF IDEOLOGY' by The CUSU Women’s Campaign I will try to find real-life online examples of their listed TERF dog whistles.
These are only a few of the most common terms associated with Trans ideology that I gained from a singular source but I believe I found a sufficient amount of evidence to validate the claims made by said source.
Observed Nomancluture of Online TERF:
“Gender critical”, discussed above; terfs also often dub themselves “biological women” or “adult human females”, and frequently highlight biological and anatomical signifiers such as “XX” (denoting chromosomes) and parts of reproductive anatomy.
@r/GenderCritical is a Reddit community turned Twitter blog after being banned due to their transphobic controversy. They are backed by @/WomenAreOvarit which is blatantly anti-trans(Example: Their Header image is from a protest against Transwomen in Female designated areas(I could not reverse-image search to find its exact origin)
“RadFem”; terf ideology calls itself “radical feminism” after its origins in parts of the feminist ‘second wave’ and its opposition to what it sees as “liberal feminist” positions of trans inclusion, although in reality there’s nothing “radical” about biological essentialism.
On Twitter, the main accounts that had the term 'radfem' in their account name had several posts relating to anti-trans ideology and/or reposts of other accounts that spoke about TERF ideology topics(e.g 'the trans-women in female bathroom ' debate)
On Tumblr, I had to focus on posts tagged with the term 'radfem', and immediately I was shown either content related to 'transwoman' or about the TERF ideology.
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Monique Joseph Speaks Out After Her 9-Year-Old Daughter Is Racially Profiled For Catching Lantern Flies
Jaron BryantDecember 20, 2022
Monique Joseph, the mother of 9-year-old Bobby Wilson, recently spoke out after her neighbor called the police on her daughter for catching lanternflies.
The incident happened back in October.
Bobby Wilson decided she wanted to help save the trees in her community after learning about invasive lantern flies.
While she was outside of her house in Caldwell, New Jersey, her neighbor called the police on her.
Monique Joseph described what happened that day on “Good Morning America.”
So that was um early on a Saturday morning around 11:00 o’clock A.M. Bobby went out with her homemade solution to kill the spotted lantern flies that were infested onto the trees on our street.
A couple of minutes later, I decided to go out and join her, and that’s when I noticed I saw the officer’s car slowly passing my home and stopping at my neighbor’s home.
A couple of seconds later, I heard my neighbor yell to the officer, ‘Go get her!’
And that’s what caught my attention, initially, right?… So as I saw the officer approaching Bobby, I’m computing and I’m realizing that he’s stopping to talk to Bobby so she’s engaging with him and I said, ‘Officer please don’t, you know, that’s my daughter, she’s nine, she’s a minor.’
By the time I got there, he’d asked Bobby a series of questions.
He immediately let me know that she was okay, I was okay, but that he was recording.
He had a body cam on, and in that moment I asked, you know, ‘Why are you recording?’
And he said he had a report that someone was…
Monique Joseph said she realized the incident could have gone left afterward.
So honestly when I knew it could have gone left was afterwards…
So, initially, all I knew was that my neighbor had called.
I approached him. I asked him why would he call the police.
He gave me his version of why he called.
Um, it was contradictory to what the 911 transmission, and that was the moment that I realized when he racially profiled my daughter, when he used dog whistle terminology that was dangerous.
That’s when I understood exactly what happened…
When I got the 911 transmission for me it was clear.
He used ‘black women’. He said he was ‘scared.’
His language, he said he didn’t know what the **** she was doing, right?…
And even afterwards when the officer went back, because I was able to hear it, the officer explained to him that it was your neighbor and she was spraying the solution and even his response then, there was nothing about it that sound, like, neighborly, right?…
And the fact that I was there, he was there the entire time he never tried to approach me to say, ‘Oh my God, I made a mistake,’ you know, a natural reaction would be if you didn’t know who you were calling on and then the mom comes out, you know us, he didn’t try to intervene.
So for me um, I just knew that I had to speak out because the 911 transmission was the exact opposite of what he communicated to me.
Monique Joseph decided to speak out about the incident at a city council meeting, and she said the reaction from her community has been amazing.
Her daughter Bobby is an aspiring scientist, and she has been honored by the USDA, and she has been invited to Yale and Princeton Universities, from her mother speaking out and bringing awareness to the incident.
Watch the ‘GMA’ story below:
youtube
Let me know your thoughts in the comments below, or join the convo on our socials. (Facebook, Instagram).
Sent from my iPhone
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About the Budweiser thing, given the years specified for that guys CIA work wasn't that smack dab in the middle of the War On Terror where the republican party's stance was basically "string up any vaguely middle East looking person"? Like if this came out back then I'm sure the reactions would be the exact opposite.
Having lived through the era of Ruby Ridge, Waco and Rodney King, to my estimations of the socially and politically conscious white male population of the War on Terror years, I'd say no. They still distrusted the CIA in particular, but may've been less apprehensive as more of Their Guys were holding the door in the federal government and better able to whistle blow if the alphabet soup federalists decided they wanted to put gay-juice in the water or sterilize the whitest county in Texas, or put microchips in milk, or whatever nonsensical thing the most radical moonbat Dale Gribble types think is true.
It's kind of odd. It's one of those things where nobody would care about it despite knowing about it, but the moment one collection of people decides to have that discussion and fight against the inertia, it becomes "a development" or "thing" and may be supported. Especially from the sort of people that live by the belief that, "everything happens for a reason" and think every new conversation started was fated to happen by destiny, like moving forwards in a new scene in a movie, and they just have to react to it and participate.
So they may have some abstract idea CIA people work at the beer company, and may in the back of their minds question the legitimacy of the connection, but they wouldn't say anything until it becomes A Scene. Then the tinfoil hatter discourse becomes, "well we know the CIA have Budweiser now. Openly..."
Anti-federalists are more apt to trust operations of necessity that they begrudgingly accept the federal government is better at than confederated states. Such as the military. But they still do not want a robot nanny to pick them up and force questionable medicine down their throat by law, and be told by existing in the space of the nanny robot, they consent to not only the mistreatment but pay taxes to do it.
But they still acknowledge that misc. federal bureaus have forces and cultures that do not like them, hate them in fact, and have an uncharitable idea of exactly what they can get away with as legal necessity. Like setting a cult compound on fire, or opening fire on a dude who was only suspected of illegal firearm ownership, killing his son and his dog. not even on the basis of a search warrant, just straight up judge, jury, execution.
Republicans and their voters are not very trusting of federal level bureaus, especially not ones that might be on record talking about the same talking points the blue hairs use to call them illegitimate and deplatform them.
During the War on Terror, all hands were on deck. They acknowledged they had bad apples in federal bureaus and entire bad federal bureaus, and that the alphabet soup people were still a danger, but they had other priorities and necessity trumped a witch hunt, both to deal with runaway Islamic extremism in the middle east and because actually putting tons of alphabet soup groups on trial with no evidence would've exhausted too much political capital and been seen as radically partisan. So, the republicans didn't fuss about it much.
The republicans would've loved to ransack federalism during the War on Terror years, but there was no way to justify that and not alienate the next generation entirely. They knew that. Before the information age, history was water under the bridge if it was 2-3 years old. I'm not going to say they didn't do damage to it during the Bush years, and then the democrats didn't modify it (hurt and heal it) during the Obama years, but that's comparing a punch to the face with being rendered apart by a chainsaw. Getting punched isn't the worst possible outcome you could walk away with.
So it's not quite so simple as, "during the war on terror the republicans loved federalism." because that's not true. They typically hate federalism for the threat it poses to their beliefs. But participating it is a necessary reality, and like keeping an eye on a fire in your yard, it's livable if you watch it closely. At least, not worth destroying future decades of political capital trying to put forwards Ron Paulian ideas like auditing the fed or abolishing national banks.
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Btw the reason terfs and Nazis still exist on tumblr isn’t just because tumblr has a financial incentive to retain users, it’s also because the communities ability to recognize dog whistles and calling cards is something that’s not possible to get an algorithm to do. Tumblr (and all social media) has to rely on a bulk of their moderation being done automatically by machines, and they’re really bad at picking up subtleties. Trans people are going to be much more open and proud in labeling themselves trans, whereas TERFs and other bigots are the exact opposite! TERFs will sometimes admit to it, but there are plenty of accounts that shinigami eyes (which is community sourced and reviewed) label as transphobic that never ONCE mention TERFs in no uncertain terms. I can tell and you can and shinigami eyes mods can tell that someone saying ‘Women’s spaces are under constant threat by gender ideologs’ is a transphobe, but what in that sentence is explicit transphobia? Well, the terminology isn’t what’s transphobic there, it’s the meaning of the words. Computers cannot do that kind of analysis and interpretation, they simply can’t and TERFs know that. On the other hand, TERFs have it very easy that most trans people will be very easily identifiable as trans. Trans people will put it in their URL in their Bio in their PFP in their posts, and they’re usually pretty specific about being trans. Computers can also absolutely identify the trans flag in your pfp or see ‘Trans’ in your bio and they can easily pick up on that explicit information. TERFs report spamming popular blogs run by trans women and reporting selfies of only transgender women could theoretically lead to a situation where, if tumblr were using its own users reports as data to train its moderation algorithm, there could be a false connection between those fake TERF reports and trans people (this probably isn’t the case, but i think it’s important to recognize that algorithms can and do make these kinds of unwanted false connections, and online hate campaigns know how to avoid AND use that behavior for their own personal gain. It’s a problem software engineers and machine learning experts spend a lot of time working on because it’s so hard to solve.)
If tumblr could remove every TERF from the platform would they? I don’t know, no one really does know. It’s a useless point to argue because it requires so many assumptions about the backend moderation process that’s it’s almost entirely speculation and anecdotes. What I can say is that TERFs and Nazis exist on literally every social media platform irregardless of whether or not the people running those social media want them there. Twitter famously had a hard time getting its content detection to identify between republican politicians and fascists, it’s funny to believe that regular republicans sound so much like fascists that they’re indistinguishable (which is true tbh) but the reality is a lot more boring, fascists try very hard to sound like normal moderate conservatives. Twitter very explicitly didn’t want far right extremism on their site, and yet it still went on to be one of the biggest breeding grounds for extremist hate movements (yes, even before Musk). Content moderation for social media is fucking hard, especially when it comes to dealing with humans, who are really good at finding ways to outsmart computers. Do I think tumblr wants Nazis and transphobes on their site? No, I don’t. Do I think there’s a problem with transphobia and fascism on this site? Abso fucking lutely. These two seemingly contradictory statements make perfect sense once you grasp how difficult it can be to identify and remove hate speech algorithmically, and if you ask me why I think there’s still such a problem with transphobes, that’s why.
Sometimes you see a post that’s just, so off base you feel the need to respond. But it has like 200 notes so it feels way too personal to leave a comment telling them why their entire point isn’t relevant and is in fact really wrong.
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sweethearts ~ devon bostick
word count: 1446
request?: yes!
“I’m not sure if you do this but can you do a Devon Bostick imagine where they met on the set of Diary of a Wimpy Kid and they’re still together till this day? Possibly like them being asked about their relationship in a interview or something. Thank you so so much :))”
description: in which they’re teenage sweethearts, and everyone finds this fact absolutely adorable
pairing: devon bostick x female!reader
warnings: swearing
masterlist (one, two)
Landing the role of Jessie Jones in the first Diary of a Wimpy Kid movie was a massive deal for me for many reasons. First, it was my first starring role - I was playing a family friend of the Heffley’s and would be featured heavily in the movie. Then there was the fact that this was a movie adaptation of a very popular book series, a series that I had also been into at the time.
Walking onto set that first day I was shaking with nervousness. There were so many people - cast and crew - and they all looked so professional and used to a film set. I felt so out of place and I wondered if I should’ve been there.
“Hey!”
I looked up to see a boy around my age approaching me. I tried to swallow my nerves, but I found them just becoming heavier with someone actually talking to me.
“Are you our Jessie?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m (Y/N).”
“Devon, I’m playing Rodrick.” He shook my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, you too.”
I felt so awkward and I was so sure Devon could feel that. I just wanted to melt into a puddle on the ground and have the awkwardness be over with.
“Have you been to costume and makeup yet?” he asked. I shook my head. “Well, I have to go to costume now, I can show you where it is.”
I sighed with relief. “That would be great.”
“Follow me.”
He led me from the set to the group of trailers outside. I tried to peer at the signs on the trailer doors to see what they were, but we were walking so quickly I didn’t really have time.
“Is this your first movie?” Devon asked.
“Kind of,” I said. “I’ve had mainly small roles or background work. What about you?”
“A few bigger roles. I’m in the Saw movie that’s coming out this year, actually.”
“That’s awesome! Although I am a massive pussy so I think I’d skip on that one.”
Devon laughed. “I don’t blame you. They’re scary movies. I don’t even know if I’m allowed to watch the movie.”
Our conversation was interrupted when we arrived to the costume trailer. We were both whisked away to get ready. I didn’t see Devon for nearly an hour, but by the time we reunited we were preparing for the first scene of the day.
It didn’t take long for me to lose my nerves. Within a few minutes of shooting I got into the character and almost forgot about the cameras and the crew watching me. At the end of the day I didn’t even want to go home, I just wanted to keep filming.
Devon found me as I was waiting for my ride home. “Hey, great job today rookie.”
I chuckled. “Thanks. It helps to have such great castmates.”
“You seem pretty professional as is, but maybe we could hang out and run lines for tomorrow’s shoot. If...if you want?”
He seemed so shy and awkward, the exact opposite of how he had been all day. It was kind of cute...okay, really cute.
“That’d be great actually,” I said. “Where did you have in mind?”
“There’s a fast food place not too far from here. We could walk there.”
“Sounds good. Lead the way!”
~~~~~~
10 Years Later
My giant husky, Heimdall, came bounding into the room and onto my lap as I was talking to the talk show host on my laptop. I let out a groan as I felt the air being knocked out of me.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” the talk show host chuckled.
“For you maybe,” I joked. “I don’t quite enjoy my big dog thinking he’s still a puppy or a lap dog, but I can’t really pretend like this is something new for him.”
Heimdall licked at my face as I scratched his head. Devon appeared in the doorway moments later, a guilty look on his face as he tried not to be too much on camera.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize the door was open,” he said.
“It’s okay,” I said to him.
Devon whistled for Heimdall to follow him out of the room, which led to the giant dog digging his paws into my stomach as he jumped off of me. I groaned again, playfully glaring after him as he trotted out the door.
“Interesting interlude there,” the host teased. “Was that Devon Bostick we heard in the background there?”
“It was indeed. He took Heimdall out for his daily walk while I’m in the interview. I’ll likely get tackled by the big brute again when I leave the room.”
“How often do the two of you get asked about Diary of a Wimpy Kid and your relationship starting there?”
“Not as often anymore. It’s been nearly 10 years since we started dating and eight since the last movie in the trilogy, which I wasn’t really in. I’ve been asked every now and then about it, but not as often as you would think.”
“Pardon my brief gushing, I just think the two of you are adorable. I mean, you were both teenagers when you met on set and started dating shortly after, and you’re still together all these years later! Most high school sweethearts don’t make it this long as it is, let alone being in the public eye for basically your entire relationship.”
“Well that’s the thing, we haven’t really been in the public eye all that often. We kept pretty lowkey when we first started dating, which wasn’t hard cause neither one of us was all that famous. Once our careers got bigger and we started getting noticed we had basically figured out how to hide from paparazzi and cameras and all. We don’t post about each other on social media all that much either, just a picture every now and again. We’re not sharing our day by day lives with the world basically, which I think is the best way to keep a relationship private and to navigate through being two celebrities dating.”
It had worked thus far in mine and Devon’s relationship. Even after confirming that we were dating just before the release of Rodrick Rules, neither one of us posted the other on social media at all. It wasn’t until the first set of breakup rumors started swirling that we decided to make tiny posts about each other when we felt like it, which was mainly on birthdays and holidays really.
Although, even if we were super public with our relationship, I didn’t think anything would pull us apart. As cheesy as it is to say, I did think Devon was my soulmate. We clicked so quickly after that first time hanging out (which we decided had been our first date years later), and I had never felt so confident that I was meant to be with someone. I wasn’t surprised that we were still together all these years later.
I continued with my interview for a while more before saying goodbye to the talk show host and leaving the video call. I sighed and stretched my back out, feeling the tensed muscles from sitting for so long popping. As I expected, the moment I opened the door, Heimdall came running for me.
“One of these days you’ll realize you’re not such a small dog anymore,” I told him, kneeling down to pet him. He licked at my face in response, which I figured meant he would never realize that.
“Did we derail the interview too much?” Devon asked, coming to join me on the floor.
I shook my head. “Not much. We talked about our relationship a little bit, but we moved on almost immediately after that.”
Devon smiled. “Yeah? What were you talking about?”
“Oh, the usual: meeting on set, keeping our relationship lowkey, when you’re gonna put a ring on it.”
He gave me a playful look. “You say that as if you’re not the one who said you’re more than okay with just being common law married until we’re 30.”
I nudged him. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s go take this oversized baby and watch some movies downstairs.”
Devon nodded and leaned forward. I gave him a quick kiss before pulling away and shoving the massive dog towards him. While he was incapacitated, I took the opportunity to run down the stairs. Heimdall was to his feel and chasing after me, Devon following closely on his tail.
I couldn’t imagine a better life than this, with my teenaged sweetheart and our fur baby. The perfect happily ever after if you asked me.
#Devon Bostick#devon bostick imagine#devon bostick x reader#imagine#one shot#request#fanfiction#fanfic#fandom
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Love and Other Historical Accidents
Chapter 12: The Picnic
Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger
Rated M for swearing and mild sexual content
Tags: romantic comedy, Regency romance, time travel, pining, miscommunication, slow burn, selective obliviousness
WIP 136k+, 12/13 chapters + epilogue
An ear-drum needling, dog-whistle whine emanated from the center of the kitchen table. Hermione’s ears throbbed.
“Steady on, lads!” Martin punched the steering toggle of his powered-down chair with a closed fist, like he meant to burst forward at top speed. “Hold the course! You’re doing real magic now, you boys!”
Stray energy churned through the room, causing every object in the cottage to ripple and wobble as though it was underwater. Books shivered in their clothbound hides, Hermione’s teeth hummed unpleasantly, and the chalk lines Draco and William etched over the surface of the table that morning quivered into woolliness.
Grix ground his teeth. “They’re going to blow the windows out.”
Hermione hated paired incantations. She wasn’t musical, but imagined it was rather like playing an instrument alongside another person, in one of its punishingly precise forms: a piano four hands divertissement rather than an all-comers drum circle in a municipal park. It meant relying on one’s partner to hit all their notes on time while missing none oneself.
It made her extremely cross.
The only person she’d ever actually enjoyed duetting beside was Draco: equally exact, equally sharp, and, for all his affected apathy, equally practised.
He and William stood at opposite ends of the kitchen table, wreathed in neon-yellow hoops of fizzling, improvident magic. Watching them, Hermione almost felt a pang of envy.
Continue reading on AO3
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✧・゚ open | mutuals & non-mutuals ・゚✧
Ideally, Oryn could go about the day without making his presence known. All of the miracles his charge experienced from time to time should be seen as just that – a simple miracle. Not as the doings of some otherworldly force. So the key, he had quickly concluded, was to not be seen. To be heard or felt was something he could work with, but to be seen was basically game fucking over for him.
That was always easier said than done, though.
No one could have predicted the sudden shift of weather or the explainable onslaught of bone deep dread. One moment things were fine, normal, and the next it was the exact opposite. Dark clouds quickly swept the skies; big, ugly things that crackled and rumbled with malice. Then came the hungry bay of hounds. Except there were no dogs within a ten mile radius.
Urgency seeped into every pore, every nerve, as he thought in haste. There, off in the distance, laid a half dilapidated shack. It looked sturdy enough to withstand a storm, but whether or not it can last the efforts of unseen hounds remained a mystery.
Still, it’s a chance he had to take.
Fingers crammed past his lips, Oryn gave a shrill whistle. The sound of it sliced through the muggy air just for a split second; loud enough to have everyone, and everything, turn their attention towards the ramshackle shelter.
#indie rp#supernatural rp#* & open .#⁺˚*・༓☾ oryn 'hwang saem' ➟ convo ☽༓・*˚#// kicks feet like a schoolgirl#// whos gonna let me write his guardian angel verse?#* & do be afraid — guardian angel verse .
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hey red i was wondering about Tubbo now and how much he suspects ppl, bc truthfully Tubbo is a smart kid, and he definitely knows something is up if his best friend, one of the loudest people he knows, protests about giving him any clue or information about the village bellow the surface. Sooner or later bits and pieces of information should connect, and Tubbo has always been a rule breaker.
"So, uh. The elevator's going up..." Ranboo says hesitantly.
Tubbo's keen eyes track the slow ascent of the elevator up from the depths of the Hermit canyon. "Whatever's in there, it's dangerous."
Ranboo shuffles back and forth, debating whether or not he should tell Tubbo what he saw all that time ago. The creeper-man with the gleaming steel face and red eye, the dog-man who swore to hold his tongue, the gigantic cavern of the Hermits' shopping district.
"Yeah, of course it's dangerous," Ranboo says, "but do we know for sure that it's angry? Maybe it's friendly?"
Tubbo snorts, not taking his eyes off the machine. "Since when are you optimistic?"
Ranboo sweats. "I dunno, I just--"
"Sorry," Tubbo interjects, forcibly untensing his shoulders. "I didn't mean to snap. I'm just... worried, is all. Remember the time Tommy went down there? He was there for days, and came out insisting that the Hermit isn't real. Something happened to him down there, I'm sure of it."
The elevator stops and the doors open. A tall, dark figure steps out, and Tubbo and Ranboo both reach for their weapons. The tall person(?) immediately trips on the edge of the door, pinwheeling their arms wildly to avoid falling on their face. The person, who appears to be a man now that the two teens can see him better, looks up at them and waves his hand.
Ranboo lets go of his weapon, and Tubbo hesitantly waves back. The moustached man waves more eagerly, like a golden retriever whose tail wags at the sight of a friendly human.
"Hello!" The man says, half-shouting to compensate for the distance. "My name's Mumbo, it's nice to meet you!"
"Tubbo," he introduces himself, then points at his partner. "Ranboo."
Mumbo trots closer on lanky legs almost as tall as Ranboo's, dusting a bit of redstone off his shoulder. "I'm new here," he says, "well, not new new, but I've not left the canyon much. Where's a good jungle when you need one, eh? I promised Iskall a parrot and I don't think he'll let me get away with a chicken twice."
Tubbo mumbles out some coordinates, and Mumbo thanks him with a pep in his step and a whistling tune, going on his merry way. He is headed in the exact opposite direction of the jungle.
"That just happened," Ranboo says.
"...Yeah, I don't think the Hermit is dangerous--"
Ranboo nods rapidly. "Yeah, the Hermit probably isn't dangerous--"
"Nice guy, really," Tubbo assents.
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I’m genuinely sick and tired of this week and shows coming out. The amount of fandom bullshit and racist dog whistles and the fucking negative takes for attention and clicks and people straight being disingenuous to media rn, has got me JADED to no end. It’s on Reddit it’s one twitter and it’s on this fucking hellsite.You got motherfuckers out here saying how hypocritical or heinous she hulk is for womens empowerment when she just twerks in a fun cameo with Megan the stallion But watch game of thrones where women are frequently raped and murdered, along with showing the bleak reality about them not holding any true positions of power or whatever. You got people complaining about Rings of power for being too woke by adding a diverse cast or just for being apart of Amazon but never come out and support Chris smalls or boycott the other big shows on prime before this. Critical role is too slow or boring or hard to get into, when the pacing has been the EXACT OPPOSITE and the fucking idiots who say this ( LOOKING AT YOU TWITTER CR ) ARE STILL HUNG UP ON ESSEK AND CALEB, THE MIGHTY NEIN ENDING, SHITTING ON THE MIGHT NEIN ENDING, AND HAVENT KEEP UP WITH THE SHOW SINCE THE FIRST EPISODE OR JUST STRAIGHT HATE WATCHES OR HATE LOOKS UP THE CRITICAL WIKI.
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Good Omens and Nineteen Eighty-Four: a comparison
You can read this meta on AO3 here
The final lines of the book Good Omens contain a clear reference to the book Nineteen Eighty-Four: ‘And if you want to imagine the future, imagine a boot… no, imagine a sneaker.’
As a result, Neil and Terry set up the ending of Good Omens in opposition to the ending of Nineteen Eighty-Four. They tell us: if you want to know what could have been, what was avoided, go read Nineteen Eighty-Four. In doing so, they also hint at exactly how Heaven and Hell might operate i.e. like the Party in Nineteen Eighty-Four.
Although the exact final lines from the book Good Omens are not in the show, the comparison between Good Omens and Nineteen Eighty-Four still stands.
Here are the final words of the book Good Omens:
‘If you want to imagine the future, imagine a boy and his dog and his friends. And a summer that never ends. And if you want to imagine the future, imagine a boot… no, imagine a sneaker, laces trailing, kicking a pebble; imagine a stick, to poke at interesting things, and throw for a dog that may or may not decide to retrieve it; imagine a tuneless whistle, pounding some luckless popular song into insensibility; imagine a figure, half angel, half devil, all human… Slouching hopefully towards Tadfield… …forever.’
Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
And here is the relevant quote in the book Nineteen Eighty-Four:
‘There will be no curiosity, no enjoyment of the process of life. All competing pleasures will be destroyed. But always— do not forget this, Winston— always there will be the intoxication of power, constantly increasing and constantly growing subtler. Always, at every moment, there will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless. If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face— forever.’
Nineteen Eighty-Four: A Novel, George Orwell
A quick summary of Nineteen Eighty-Four
Nineteen Eighty-Four tells the story of Winston Smith. Winston lives in Oceania, a totalitarian and cult-like regime run by the Party and headed by the divine-like figure of Big Brother. The Party maintains power through near-constant surveillance, propaganda, thought control and violence. The control of thought, the propaganda and the re-writing of history is so extreme that it is difficult to be certain what is and is not factually correct in Winston’s world. Oceania is one of three totalitarian regimes in the world, the other two being Eurasia and Eastasia and the three regimes are locked in a perpetual war, though allegiances shift.
The people of Oceania are taught to love Big Brother, though no one ever sees Big Brother directly and we are told that Big Brother cannot die. It is not clear if there is or was ever a real person behind the mythic figure of Big Brother. It is clear that Big Brother functions as a mythic, god-like figure, used by the Party to foster loyalty and obedience.
On the flip side of Big Brother and the Party, we have Goldstein and the Brotherhood. Goldstein is was once a member of the Party, but he is now a traitor and the leader of the Brotherhood, an organisation of rebels who aim to destroy the Party. Goldstein is said to be the author of the book The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism, a book that details how the Party maintains power and how it could be overthrown. However, it is revealed that Goldstein was not the author at all. The book is itself propaganda produced by the Party as a trap for thought criminals and rebels. It is possible that Goldstein himself does not exist, or if he once existed, he is now a mythic figure used by the Party for their own ends.
Winston begins the book with doubts about Big Brother. He works for the Ministry of Truth, erasing and rewriting history. Throughout the book he searches for the means to rebel and he falls in love with a woman named Julia. Winston and Julia risk much to be together. Their very relationship is forbidden by the Party. Although Julia is also a thought criminal who hates Big Brother, she does not have Winston’s thirst for overthrowing the regime. She does not think it possible. Instead, she focusses on the moments of escape that she can forge with Winston.
Ultimately, Winston is captured and tortured. Initially his hatred of Big Brother and his love of Julia help him to resist, but Winston is taken to the dreaded Room 101, a room in which the thought criminal is made to experience their worst fears. He betrays Julia, and everything he knows to be true. In the process, he loses all love for her. We later learn that Julia does the same. In the end, Winston loves Big Brother.
Alright- let’s compare!
Thought control
Thought control and propaganda are core to the Party’s operations. Three thought-stopping slogans feature heavily in Nineteen Eighty-Four: (1) War is peace, (2) freedom is slavery, and (3) ignorance is strength. Compare this to the operation of Heaven in Good Omens. In fact, compare this to Heaven in Good Omens. Heaven is meant to be, well, heaven. Instead it is cold, ruthless and all of the best composers are in Hell. Yet Aziraphale is told, Aziraphale repeats that heaven is heavenly. Evidence that it is not is swept away with the thought-stopping phrases like ‘it’s ineffable.’
It is clear from all that Aziraphale says and does that he has been absolutely pumped with propaganda. Gosh, it takes until Armageddon for him to accept that God isn’t coming to save them, as well as to realise that he can possess people like a demon (and by extension, that angels and demons aren’t so different after all). The thing is, Aziraphale is (1) clever, (2) stationed on Earth and (3) friends with a demon. Of all of the angels, he has had the most opportunity to break through Heaven’s thought control, and he still right up until Armageddon, hadn’t fully managed it. This is absolutely not a criticism of Aziraphale. Rather, it shows us how extreme the thought control is.
The book Nineteen Eighty-Four gave us the concept of doublethink. Doublethink is holding two contradictory beliefs in one's mind simultaneously and accepting both of them. Aziraphale is a master of doublethink. Here’s just some of the contradictory beliefs that he manages to hold at the same time:
(1) Crowley is both a friend and an enemy
(2) Aziraphale is both obedient to Heaven and in an arrangement with a demon
(3) The final victory over Heaven will involve the loss of everything Aziraphale loves: books, food, music and Crowley and yet, it will also be ‘rather lovely’
Double think is a core aspect of thought control in Nineteen Eighty-Four because it is what prevents the erroneous ideas being challenged by reality. Aziraphale’s capacity for doublethink is why it takes Armageddon for him to start fully breaking his programming.
A perpetual war
Within Nineteen Eighty-Four the Party uses perpetual war as a strategy to maintain power. It uses up resources, maintaining high rates of production and constant work without improving the standard of living and it provides a direction for everyone’s anger (so it doesn’t come back on the Party).
Now, what if the perpetual war between Heaven and Hell has exactly the same function? What if it is a means to control angels and demons? A means to keep angels and demons busy and direct their anger, preventing any true revolution or change in their conditions? If that is its function, well then it certainly fulfils that function rather well!
Constant surveillance
Constant surveillance is used by the Party to control the people. In the book Good Omens we never really know the level of surveillance. In the show, we do have some idea. The fact that God is always watching is made clear by the fact that she is the narrator. Of course, she doesn’t use this to control anyone. But she isn’t the only one watching. The existence of the Earth observation files shows that Heaven operates with a level of constant surveillance. No, they aren’t literally watching every moment. But they do have every moment recorded, and when suspicions have been aroused, they can check up on you. It is little wonder that Aziraphale feared getting caught.
Big Brother and God
In Nineteen Eighty-Four, the Party forbids religion, but the figure of Big Brother is divine-like. Big Brother is infallible and all-powerful. It is also said that he can never die. And yet, at no point in the book does anyone actually see Big Brother himself in the flesh. What we see is the mythic of Big Brother, used by others for the purposes of control. Was there originally a real person behind the myth? Is there still? If so, is his agenda the same as all that is attributed to him? Probably not. The original Big Brother may have been a good intentioned leader. He may be in a prison somewhere, in fact, or dead. We simply do not know.
All of this parallels nicely with God in Good Omens. Heaven, and even Hell, use the mythic figure of God to control the angels and the demons, invoking God’s Great Plan. God is infallible and all-powerful and, ultimately, responsible for everything through her Great Plan, or so it is said.
Yet, do we see the real God, the original being behind the mythic figure? In the book, we don’t get to see for ourselves who God really is. Like Big Brother, he could be a real being behind the myth, truly controlling Heaven or he could be imprisoned or even dead. We simply do not know.
In the show, however, God narrates. So we, the audience, know that she still exists. Yet, she remains elusive to the characters. She does not appear, not even with the imminent destruction of the world, not even when Satan appears and as Crowley says she’s ‘not talking to any of us.’ We know that she did communicate with Aziraphale at the Beginning. But it sounds like she’s been silent for a long time. Yet, we, the audience, know she isn’t fully removed. She is watching. What is her agenda? That is left unclear. What exactly does she have in common with the mythic figure of herself? Is she ultimately guiding everyone? Does she have a Great Plan and is it what they think it is? Is she benevolent? Or is she merely watching? All we know is, from her own account, it is all an ineffable game of her own devising.
The mythic of Goldstein and the creation of Hell
In Nineteen Eighty-Four, the Party uses the mythic of Goldstein, a former Party member and traitor who is now the leader of the rebellion to reveal thought criminals and purge their ranks of disloyalty. Former party leader turned traitor and the leader of the rebellion… Sound like anyone?
I think we should seriously consider the possibility that the war in Heaven, the rebellion, and the creation of Hell served exactly the same purpose in Good Omens: to reveal the thought criminals and to purge Heaven’s ranks of disloyalty. By allowing the disloyal angels to ‘rebel’ and giving them a pre-scripted role as rebels still fighting a perpetual war, well, it is a pretty clever way to ensure that there will be no genuine revolution isn’t it? And, after all, for all their rhetoric about war, Heaven and Hell still have entrances in the same damn building as well as back channels of communication. Hell is still trying to bring about the Great Plan. It makes sense that ultimately, Hell exists to keep Heaven in power, just as the Brotherhood exists to keep the Party in power.
Of course, we know that Lucifer/Satan exists in Good Omens. He is not a mere mythic figure. But I suspect that Lucifer/Satan, the fallen angel behind the myth, is in on the scheme. He may well have truly been a traitor, a traitor who was offered leadership of Hell and who took up this offer to further his own power. Or perhaps Lucifer/Satan isn’t a traitor at all but the most remarkable double agent.
Incidentally, this all means that Crowley truly did fall for questioning. He fell for thought crime.
Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship vs Winston and Julia’s relationship
Like Winston and Julia, Aziraphale and Crowley must go to great lengths to be together. Their relationship is forbidden, and for it they risk much. Also like Julia and Winston, although one of them (Winston, Crowley), has a hunger for rebellion and change, and the other (Aziraphale, Julia) believes that change is impossible and focusses, instead, on finding the moments that they can together.
In Nineteen Eighty-Four, Winston betrays Julia and Julia betrays Winston. They lose their love for each other. Love, we are told, is crushed by the Party. In contrast, the message in Good Omens is much more optimistic. For Aziraphale and Crowley, love wins out. Neither betray the other in the ultimate sense and any smaller betrayals along the way are easily forgiven. Love is not lost. Love leads them both to freedom. In Good Omens, love is stronger than power and control.
What exactly was prevented when Armageddon was stopped?
Nineteen Eighty-Four tells us exactly what was prevented when Armageddon was foiled. A world after Armageddon would have been all ‘the intoxication of power’ and at every moment ‘the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless’. But whose victory? Heaven’s or Hell’s? It really doesn’t matter. What matters is power and control. Aziraphale himself eludes to this in the book when he appears briefly within the body of an American televangelist. He explains that Heaven is not necessarily going to win. In fact, he suggests that it could easily go either way. And, he says, neither side is going to be too worried about how many humans are destroyed along the way.
How is Armageddon prevented?
In Nineteen Eighty-Four Winston says that what might achieve victory over the Party is the spirit of Man. He is shown to be wrong.
But, in Good Omens, the ‘spirit of Man’ is triumphant and we are told exactly what ‘the ‘spirit of Man’ means.
A loyal Party member (an angel) cannot triumph. Neither can a member of the Brotherhood (a demon). Instead, we need someone all too human. The solution is cannot be found in any form of power and control, not in top-down authoritarian control or in violent revolution and mob rule.
It is found in the embracing of humanity. It is found in embracing the world as it is, with all its faults and failings: kicking pebbles, throwing a stick to a dog, whistling tunelessly. The solution is not perfect. It is messy. It is not found in power and control. It is not found in chaos and reactionary anger. Rather, it is also a strange kind of centre, a balance point between those two opposing instincts, between rigid authoritarian control and chaos . It is a middle way. It is freedom and it is love.
Or as the final lines of the Good Omens book have it:
‘imagine a figure, half angel, half devil, all human…
Slouching hopefully towards Tadfield… …forever’
#Good Omens#Good Omens meta#Good Omens analysis#ineffable husbands meta#ineffable husbands analysis#Nineteen Eighty Four#1984#orwell 1984#Heaven is a cult#Good Omens book#Good Omens show
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Unraveling at the Alter
Genre: Fan Fiction
Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC
Warnings: Fluff.
Rating: G
Length: Drabble
Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.
A/N: Thank you @agniavateira for helping me with this :) It is massively appreciated.
Henry Cavill Master List
This was it.
Years of waiting.
Years of heartache, joy, and more love than he knew was possible.
Henry sighed and rubbed his hands against his slacks, licking his lips nervously, he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. Oh god. Oh god! He bent forward, fighting the urge to vomit. Why the fuck was he so nervous? It's not like this was anything new. He'd been madly in love with her for years, even when they weren't together he had held some sort of twisted hope for this very day.
Not to be that man, but Henry had been somewhat in love with her from the first week he'd met her. All of those years ago, some days it felt like an entirely different life.
“Dad,” Ivan laid his hand on Henry's arm.
“Hmm?”
“Are you okay? Do I need to get Uncle Charlie?” His blue eyes watched his father with great concern.
All morning the house had been consumed in chaos. Henry had taken up residence in the office, at the opposite end of the house from where Nell had been getting ready upstairs. His brothers – and Nell's, fathers, mothers, Ivan, and Kal had been in and out of the room a hundred and one times. Until his mother had the sense to ask them all to get out. With the exception of his best man and his dog.
Henry was thankful for the bit of silence, before the actual ceremony. Evidently he wasn't hiding his nerves as well as he had hoped to.
��No, wild boy, I'm fine. Thank you.” Henry forced a smile to ease his son's worries. “Have you seen your mum?” Henry hadn't set eyes on her since this morning, when he was woken by Ivan jumping on their bed and urging his dad to hurry downstairs.
Ivan smirked, his eyes sparkling as he nodded eagerly. He had never seen her look so pretty, he may have even cried a little. “Dad, she looks like a princess! But without all the stupid frills and no singing mice.”
Henry laughed at Ivan's details. Leave it to Ivan.
With some tradition, Henry had yet to see the dress that Nell had picked. His only hint had been that it wasn't a traditional wedding dress, although she was confident he would love it all the same. She was head over heels for her dress. The delicate blue and white beading at the top gave way to a flowing emerald satin skirt. She'd found it while looking for bride's maid dresses.
Since they were getting married in their own garden, Nell felt that a relaxed look would be acceptable. Besides, she had no interest in putting on a big poofy, over the top dress, only to take it off an hour later and never wear it again.
Unconfirmed, Henry had a sneaky suspicion that her dress in some way matched the attire she had found for him. Nell had convinced him to go with a dark green waistcoat and slacks, who was Henry to argue. She had been dressing him long enough to know what he would look good in. Ivan looked adorable in his matching attire.
A soft knock on the door, with something mumbled through from the hall, indicated that it was time for Henry, his best man, and his dog to take post in the garden.
“Coming,” Ivan called back, smiling like the cat who'd found the canary.
“Kal,” Henry whistled, the big dog lifting his head and huffing. Slowly standing with a yawn, Kal licked his lips and sauntered over to big Henry shaking his head. This silly blue bow tie that they had put on him was beginning to get in the way of a good nap. “Come on, bear. It's time to roll.”
“Dad,” Ivan walked beside Henry, his hands in his pockets.
“Yes?”
“Are you happy to be marrying mum?”
“I have no words to tell you how happy I am, wild boy.” Henry beamed. “Are you happy about this?”
“I guess,” Ivan shrugged and smiled. “If it makes you and mum happy. Why not?”
“Always the supportive one,” Henry rolled his eyes, chuckling at Ivan's passive demeanor.
The groomsmen looked smart, well put together, and turned out better than Henry could have imagined. Ivan stood straight, his hair styled to match his dad's, with Kal at his side. One bride's maid, then two, a third, then fourth, by the fifth Henry was again feeling like he was going to vomit. Deep breaths. Hands sweaty, he wished he'd asked to see Nell before hand. He would have been able to tell her how spectacular she looked while crying like a baby, in private.
No use wishing for that now.
As the music began, he could feel his hands shake. Kal whimpered beside Ivan and nudged his nose into Ivan's side, moving him closer to Henry. Smiling at his dad, Ivan reached out, taking his hand.
Nell had spent the morning fretting over every tiny detail of her day. Was her hair the right way, her make up as she had sampled? Did her dress fit and fall the exact way it had the moment she'd fell in love with it? Would Henry be pleased? Would he be as shaky as her? Crying and trying to catch breath.
More than once, Nell had felt like she was being sat on by an elephant. Only to be filled with sudden excitement and wanting to scream in pure delight. Her sister and mother had barely left her side since she'd woken. Ivan had come barreling into the room before dawn, jumping on the bed and shouting for Henry to get out. Leave it to their son.
Her father had assured her that Henry looked every bit dashing and handsome as she had wished. Perhaps more, now that she saw him in his perfect wedding suit. They couldn't have planned this better. The weather was amazing, for a mid November day. Nell had worked hard on her garden, since they'd moved in a few months ago, making sure it was perfect for the day.
“How is your dad?” She'd asked Ivan a few hours ago.
A mischievous grin, the wild boy shrugged. “He looks like a prince, but without the stupid Disney animation.”
Cheeky. Like his father.
Taking her father's arm, Nell inhaled and exhaled slowly. Her hands trying to steady the bouquet that she held in her left hand. Around her the music began to play, when asked about music for the ceremony Nell had casually mentioned how cool it would be to have an instrumental version to one of her favourite songs. What she hadn't been expecting was Henry to deliver. One bride's maid...two...She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry before she got down the aisle.
“Deep breath, Nelly.” Walt winked gently patting her hand. Nell nodded and smiled. “You're going to knock him dead, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, dad.” Her voice barely cracked above a whisper.
“Ready?” Walt looked at his youngest, smiling wide.
A slight nod, Nell took her first step forward, humming to the music to soothe her. The distance from the back door of the house to where Henry waited in the garden was exactly 152 steps, at the pace she would be going. She had practiced a time or two, while she had been home alone – using Kal as a stand in for Henry. In the garden a few chairs were placed, along with a delicate arrangement of lights. Who would have thought she'd be able to pull this all together in less than four full months.
60 people, all who were close and meaningful, around the garden to share in the day. Nell could feel the tears welling. At the end of the meticulous stone walkway, Henry stood with Ivan clutching his hand. Neither one of them did a very good job at keeping the tears at bay. Ivan reached up, wiping his sleeve across his eyes. Henry swallowed the lump in his throat trying not to sob loudly.
Ivan had been right when he'd said Princess. Nell was somehow more spectacular than Henry had imagined. Walter stopped, giving Nell a kiss on the cheek and Ivan a quick wink. Stepping forward to meet his bride, Henry let out a breath and a low whistle.
“Thank you,” He gave his father in law to be a quick nod.
Muttering back a quick congratulations, Walt took his seat in the front next to his waiting wife. Kal leapt forward a little greeting Nell with an affectionate “boof!”.
“Kal, sit.” Ivan quickly hushed the big dog.
Giving the couple a quick moment to sort themselves, Michael smiled and patiently stood. Henry had asked him to marry them, off the cuff, since he and Nell couldn't agree on anyone else to do the job. A soft laugh from the crowd when Kal tried to wiggle free from Ivan, again.
Ignoring the bit of commotion around him, Henry was lost in the sight before him. The soft, gentleness was Nell through and through.
“Oh, my darling.” Henry cooed, holding her hand tightly. Kissing the back of her hand, he smiled warmly. “You look,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “You,” he sniffled. “Janelle, my darling.”
“Dad,” Ivan nudged him with his elbow in the back, Kal contained by his uncle beside him. “Tell her she's pretty! Don't just stand around and cry.”
A camera flashed and a few chuckles filled the air, from those close enough to hear Ivan's commentary. Rolling his eyes, Ivan sighed and gently shook his head. Adults.
“Shush, you.” Henry chuckled at Ivan, tears on his cheeks. “Nelly, you are...wow. Absolutely wow!”
“I love you,” Nell smiled, kissing his cheek. “And you, wild boy” she peeked at Ivan, “stop teasing him.”
“I love you all, and I hate to rush this moment, because you look fantastic.” Michael shook his head, trying to stop his own flood of tears, his baby sister looked absolutely stunning. “But...” He gestured to the crowd.
Nell giggled and Henry laughed. “Of course, of course.”
“I love you,” Nell mouthed quickly to her big brother.
Reciting vows that they had written for one another, exchanging their rings, and listening as Michael recited some words about love and marriage – no doubt something he had found when he went online to become ordained, Nell couldn't help herself as she became lost watching Henry. A time or two she had heard their guest chuckle, which prompted her to giggle along. Words lost to her, as she admired the man before her.
The crinkles on his eyes, the soft dimples when he smiled, or the smoothness of his voice when he read her the vows he'd written. God she had been so lucky.
“You are now husband and wife.” Michael happily announced, “Henry, I know she's my sister, but...this once I'll encourage you to kiss her.” he teased, slapping Henry's shoulder. Everyone sharing in their happiness.
Rolling his eyes, in typical Cavill fashion, Ivan groaned as his parents stood in front of everyone kissing like a couple of teenagers. His uncle shielding his eyes, Ivan giggled loudly. Thanking him for the help. He was bound to have nightmares over that kiss. Gross!
Kal wiggled and bounced on his leash, trying to convince whoever had a hold of him that he could be a good boy. He had spotted a squirrel earlier, on the east side of the house, in his duty of wedding dog, he didn't have a chance to properly investigate.
Around them people clapped, cheering the happy couple as they turned to face their guests, for the first time, as husband and wife. Nell wiped a few more tears away, sniffling. Henry smiled softly, his swiping his thumbs across her cheeks.
“Mum, momma, mum.” Ivan broke their moment, gently tugging at Nell's arm.
“Yes?”
“I love you. And I think you look really pretty. I told dad you looked like a princess, but I don't think he believed me.”
“I didn't say that.” Henry rolled his eyes, taking Nell's hand to step forward to join the guests waiting to mingle and personally congratulate the couple.
“You two are something else.” Laughing, Nell snagged Ivan gently pulling him into a hug. Kissing the top of his head, he was nearly as tall as her. Catching her mother's eye, she smiled, “I think they're waiting for us.”
“Do we have to take photos?” Ivan groaned, walking beside his parents, glancing around to see where Kal had gone off to. As best man his duty was to see his dad didn't freak out and to keep Kal out of trouble.
“Only a few, then we're having lunch and you are free to do whatever you want, for the day.” Nell instructed. “It won't be that bad. We're taking some photos here, so we don't even have to leave.”
She had opted to do as much as she could at their house, the property allowed for space to set up and still have room to wander off a little. If one didn't want to be directly in the crowd, they were welcome to take a walk around the few paddocks and wander down the small lane.
This was certainly not the lavish and large wedding that one would expect from a well known celebrity. Henry had snorted and groaned when Nell had informed him, a few days ago, that people were speculating about their upcoming wedding. The only people who mattered were those invited, as far as Henry was concerned. They had made a proper announcement about their engagement a few weeks ago, although their family and friends had known days after they had initially discussed it.
“Don't forget, tomorrow morning Bridie and Joe are coming round to take you for the afternoon.” Henry chose now to remind his son of his former Nanny's visit. “And you owe Sophie a dance.”
“I won't forget.” Ivan had been waiting weeks to see his friends from his former life in Ireland. He had marked off the days on a calendar in his room, even. He was excited not only for a party, but to see those he missed and didn't often see with his parents' work schedule.
“And you, Mrs. Cavill.” Henry winked, “Need to be ready by noon, tomorrow.”
“I will be, but I wish you'd tell me where we were going.” Nell pouted.
Henry had set up a four day escape to Rome, since they would be traveling for The Witcher press in a couple of weeks the honeymoon would be short. They had agreed to take Ivan along for the press tour, spending a few weeks together as a family. Between interviews and appearances. Easier said than done. But Henry wanted them with him, it would be nice to retire to a hotel room and have his family.
“Sorry, no can do. But I have things packed for you, Sadie helped me. I will tell you this, you're going to love it.” He kissed the back of her hand.
“Fine,” Nell sighed. “Since you're not going to tell me, shall we go around to the front and find the photographer? Before our mothers come over here.”
More than once, she had spotted their mothers watching, allowing them a few moments alone as husband and wife. Yet, keeping track of time.
“You're right, let's go around.”
The Cavill and Stewart clan were vast. Multiple siblings, spouses, and children. Trying to wrangle everyone, Kal included, into one or two large group photos had been a task. Nell was glad that the photographer was gracious and understanding. Attempting to get that many people in a space and all looking the same direction, succeeding in the second try – miracle or possibly witch craft. Nell wasn't sure, but she was in awe.
Henry's favourite photos would no doubt be the ones of his own little family. The three – four with Kal – of them together, happy and content. Nell sighed and shook her head, when Henry and Ivan went about their usual antics. Nobody else was bound to have a photo of their husband with their son thrown over his shoulder, while their giant dog jumped up trying to get in on the playfulness.
After photos and lunch, as promised, Nell gave Ivan the go ahead to do as he pleased. As long as he didn't retreat to the den and spend all day playing video games with his cousins. He had to still be around, if needed for more wedding activities. Like watching people Ooh and Awe over silly things. Did that many people need to cry over his parents dancing? His dad often looked like a wounded duck, although it never stopped him. Ivan could watch his parents dance to that nauseating Thomas Rhett song any time. His dad said it perfectly described how he felt about his life.
Whatever. After his dance with Sophie, who he was gaining height on, he disappeared with a couple of Henry's nephews and Kal. As long as they didn't set anything on fire, they were allowed to roam and play on the property.
After a dance or two, Henry and Nell agreed to split ways for the moment. Mingling and enjoying their guests. It would be rude of them not to engage. Taking a little break, Nell stood at the back of the garden, enjoying the last bit of warmth from the day before the cool evening set in. She'd hugged, kissed, and thanked so many people that her head was beginning to swim a little.
“Has anyone told you that you look an absolute vision,” Nell's older sister, Sadie, approached extending her arms and embracing her little sister, kissing her cheek.
“I have heard that a time or two, but I think they were only saying it to be polite.” Nell winked and laughed. Gently fanning herself with her hand, it was far from warm outside, but the commotion was enough to make anyone sweat a little. Fanning herself, she blew out a breath, her cheeks hurting from all of the smiling. How could she not? If there was ever a day to walk around with a perma-smile, it was today.
“Let me guess, Hen can't stop complimenting you.” Sadie teased.
“He's said it a few times, too.” Winking, Nell beamed.
“You know, Nelly, I'm just happy that you are happy. Cliche, yes, but as your big sister that is my job.” Squeezing her sister's hand, Sadie smiled fondly “It hasn't been easy, but what good romance is?”
“Looking back, I think we had to grow and excuse the corny, if it's yours then you need to let it go.” Nell shrugged, stealing a quick glance at Henry across the garden. Standing with one of their guests, chatting happily. “Had we not been apart, I don't think I would have realized or appreciated how much I need him. Or how much I love him.”
Henry had asked her to marry him several times in the past, getting shot down each and every one. Looking back, had she agreed, surely they would have been facing divorce by now. At the very least angry and bitter with one another, trapped in a loveless marriage with kids they resented as much as they did one another.
Life worked out for a reason.
“Sweetie,” Sadie hugged her sister, holding her tightly. “I'm so glad this worked out, because honestly, I can't think of anyone better for you. He loves you, so much.”
Hugging her sister tightly, Nell sniffled, trying to hold back another flood of emotions. Thankful, when she heard Henry gently clearing his throat, asking to steal his bride away for a moment. Hugging him as tightly as she did Nell; Sadie smiled waving them along.
“So, Mr. Cavill, what's the urgent task?” Nell linked her arm in his, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Don't be mad,” Henry smirked, glancing around, nobody seemed to notice them escaping. “I wanted to have a moment with my wife, nobody else around.” He chuckled when Nell looked up, she'd been following his footsteps allowing him to lead her.
Around the other side of the garden, she giggled and hugged his arm tightly. “You rascal. Leading me astray, well I'll be.” She joked.
“I love you,” He whispered, kissing her temple.
“I love you, too.” Nell smiled, leaning into him. “So, this is it huh? Married life?”
“It looks like,” Henry beamed.
“I'm glad you accepted my proposal. Despite how awkward it was.”
“I would have been crazy not to, my darling.” Kissing her softly, Henry sighed happily. “I feel as though we've barely seen one another today. Would it be rude to say good night and sneak upstairs?”
An advantage and disadvantage to spending their wedding night at home. They could call it an evening anytime they wanted, but then it felt forced and rude. As if demanding guests to leave, which is not what they had intended. Nell had made it very clear that she wanted people to stay and enjoy, having car service to take people wherever they needed to go after.
“It's only 7pm.” Nell smiled, leaning into Henry, shivering slightly. “Do you really want to go in?”
Smiling mischievously, Henry wrinkled his nose. “Maybe? Is it wrong that this is our wedding night, but all I can think about is going to bed and snuggling with you?”
“Snuggling?”
“Among doing other things.”
“Ah, yes. Of course.” Glancing around, Nell furrowed her brow. A few spots had fresh dirt and Kal tracks. “Have you seen Kal lately?”
“He was with mum and Simon.”
“Hmm, well before we do anything tomorrow. We need to fix these flower beds. Someone found another squirrel it seems.”
Laughing, Henry looked at Nell for a moment, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “You are something else, my darling wife.”
“What? The dog tore apart my garden, I can't leave here with them looking like...”
“Nell, we can worry about that tomorrow. I can have Ivan and dad fix them, if you want. Or we can hire someone. I can't allow you to spend the morning of your honeymoon gardening. Which, by the way, I think we should discuss.”
“That top secret honeymoon? Are you going to tell me where we're going?”
Henry shook his head. “No, but I will tell you that it's been a while since we've been there, together,” Nell frowned. That could be just about anywhere. “We land and check in, then I have dinner reservations. The next morning, late morning, because I intend to keep you in the room as long as possible.” He bit hit bottom lip, “I have made us a booking for a couple's massages and then...”
“You have this all planned don't you?” Henry nodded, Nell winked, “what if I don't want a massage? What if I want to stay in our hotel the entire time and...”
“But we did that last time, this time...” Henry paused, eyes wide. Shit.
“Are you taking me to Rome?”
“I didn't say that.”
“You didn't have to. I think you gave it away pretty well. The only other place we've stayed in a hotel the entire time was the second trip to Jersey. Unless we're honeymooning in Jersey. Which if we are, I am fine with that, but Rome? Oh my god, Henry! Ugh, I love you! I love you. I love you! That is the perfect honeymoon.” Nell bounced eagerly, and she wondered where Ivan got it.
“I suppose you would have found out at the airport, anyway.” He teased, “So? You really like it?”
“Oh my god, of course! Henry! This is amazing. I could not have picked a better place.” She flung her arms around his neck, kissing him softly. “You are a fantastic husband. Have I told you that, today?”
“I don't know that I am as fantastic as my wife, but I certainly try.”
Take Us Home – Alan Doyle, is the song I had in mind for Nell’s entrance
Blessed - Thomas Rhett is their first dance
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