#yes I am still terribly self-conscious about posting anything on here!

[galvanizedfriend]

hi, yokan <3

I read that in Brazil there's a week-break because of carnival, therefore I hope you're finally having a bit of rest!

I was wondering if you could post an outtake with the klaroeve scene? from you comment I understood that there was more than that little scene in the latest chapter, and I would LOVE to read it!

sorry if I sound rude or pressuring, it's not my intention at all :(( I'm just Eve's third parent, I need more scenes with my babygirl being adorable 😭😭

I totally get why you don't put more of her in the main story. I ALWAYS say that babyplots are terrible due to a lot of factors, one of them being the constant present of a baby who basically does nothing (rightfully, since, yk, it went out of the whomb last year) and that adds nothing to the plot but just terrible fan service.

I think most people would agree with this, maybe even you!

HOWEVER, my little wolf/fish/mermaid is THE exception and I would love to see more of her, and, since u have a series dedicated to those fluffy moments that don't exactly fits with the plot, I really wish you will post something there 😭😭

sorry for bothering you, I hope you'll have a good day!

P.S.

totally off-topic but I also read some of your comments in Portuguese (AT LEAST I think it's Portuguese 😭) and I understood like 80% of it, privileges of being Italian ‼‼ so lol now you really can't escape me >:)

Yes, it's Carnaval right now! It's a nearly weak-long holiday, but it sadly ends on Wednesday. 😢 And I was technically on call yesterday, so 😂 But I am very much enjoying not doing anything 🤷‍♀️

About the baby thing, yes. 😂 I've been so lucky to get some passionate readers almost from the start with this fic and to have people who are still reading it a ton of years later, but I've also had to read some very mean things over the years that have stuck with me. It has made me extremely self-conscious about this story. I sometimes find myself almost apologizing for writing it, like I'm commiting some kind of crime against fandom or like I should be banned for inflicting this upon people for as long as I have. I wish I could be the kind of person who just doesn't care and remains blissfully unbothered, but I'm not. I'm not a naturally confident person in any way, and that kind of thing does get to me.

It's gotten better, of course. I care a lot less now than I used to, and the fic is not as popular as it was a few years ago either, so there's that But some of that stuff has just ingrained itself into my brain. Objectively I know this is stupid and I don't owe anybody anything, I don't have to apologize for writing a fanfiction for god's sake. There's room for everyone in fandom. I can have a corner to rewrite the show and have a magical Klaroline baby, fuck it. Who cares, you know? But it's almost stronger than me sometimes, I don't realize I'm doing it. I get this feeling that I need to be more critical otherwise people are going to think it's ridiculous and OOC and nobody's gonna want to read it anymore and etc etc. It's exhausting. And it's obviously nobody's fault, it's just me in my own head, but that's how it goes.

The scene you're talking about in particular. I had it written years ago. Literal years, maybe 2021 or early 2022. Some of my friends had even already read it a loooong time before the chapter was finished. And I was convinced that it was so cute and totally fine. Then as I wrapping up the chapter, I started getting this itch that it was actually ridiculous and the folks who had read it didn't say anything because they were being nice, they didn't want to hurt my feelings, and I had to get delete it. So I did. In all truth, I think the chapter is more polished like this. But then I removed a family scene and ended up writing smut that also had no place in the chapter, so. 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, I'm sorry for the rambly response. 🥲 I'll tell you this: I will read the deleted scene again and if I feel it's not dumpster-fire bad, I will post it here. But I need to check it first, because there is chance that it's not just my paranoid head telling me to get rid of the baby scenes and it really is just that bad. 😂

And as for the last part, yes, it's Portuguese. It's my native language. And it's so funny how Italian, Spanish and Portuguese can be so similar. I understand Spanish much better than Italian, but I do get some of it as well. Latin languages 🤜🤛 (except French, I don't understand French at all 😂)

[pandolfo-malatesta]

Extra! Extra! The Orphan Trains and Newsboys of New York by Renée Wendinger is not quite as niche as it sounds.  It gives a decent background history of both subjects, with plenty of primary source material and an obvious focus on Charles Loring Brace, though the expected discussion of newsies who became orphan train riders never coalesces.

My additional issues with the book are that: --the writing is occasionally stilted, with some awkward word choice and grammatical errors, and in need of editing --it is not always clear what information is quoted directly from a primary source and what Wendinger synthesized --there are no new pictures you haven’t seen before if you’ve done any research into newsboys; all of Lewis Hine’s greatest hits are included

Its strength is in the profiles of orphan train riders in the first half of the book.  More of those would have been welcome.

Further assorted tidbits and reactions:

To me the most affecting and pathetic aspect of the orphan train riders’ experience was how many of them had their given names changed when they reached their new homes.  Yes, many of them were very young and probably not attached enough to their names to be bothered by the change, but not all of them were.  The changes seem to signal a loss of their heritage (especially because more “ethnic” names seem to have been changed more frequently than English-sounding ones; for example, a Scholastica renamed Mary and a Gaetano DeLeo renamed Joseph (though he later went back to Guy DeLeo, under which name he became a big band leader of some renown)) and a separation from their past.

John M. Arsers was born in northern Italy in 1865.  After his mother died and his father remarried he was sent to Paris, where he earned money playing the triangle.  In 1870 he and a group of other children were shipped to America; there he had a short stint at the Brace Farm before being sent to Iowa, allegedly later that same year.  While I think some of the chronology may have been condensed, it’s an amazing story.

Some families who accepted one rider later went on to adopt more.  In one case a rider, Harry Lee, traveled West in 1883; his daughter went on to marry a man named Basil Kolosky (whose birth father had a Japanese surname and whose birth mother was white) who rode in 1899.  A woman named Mary Lamm had been a rider in 1883 and in 1910 adopted another rider, her daughter Anne, née Anna Haberbosh.

In 1899 the superintendent of the Duane Street lodging house was a man named Rudolph R. Heig, himself a former newsie.

The first dedicated dormitory for newsboys was on the top floor of the Sun building.

Per the Children’s Aid Society Annual Report from circa 1860, the lodging houses were open to not just newsboys and bootblacks but also “Match sellers, apple vendors, button peddlers, and all who engage in petty pursuits.”

There ought to be more stories that mention the newsies casually mending their own clothing in the evenings.

The question of what one calls a group of newsies was answered in an August 11, 1904, edition of the New York Times when a reporter described a “colony of newsboys.”

In 1870 Theodore Roosevelt was on the board of the Children’s Aid Society.

At least one orphan train rider left New York City and ended up in Escanaba, Michigan.  To me this was a mindblowing idea, because although I have never been to Escanaba itself, I have been close, and even in the 21st century it was one of the darkest places I’ve been.  The differences between the Big Apple and the Upper Peninsula must have been even more jarring in 1897; it’s only a little over a thousand miles from New York to Escanaba (in this case via Chicago and then up through Wisconsin), but it must have seemed like an entirely different world.

While Midwest states were the most popular destinations for riders, a few also ended up in Jacksonville, Florida.

Finally, everyone’s favorite: the names of real live newsies!  All of the following are attested in the New York Times from 1904 to 1906. Gawk Cassidy States Nixon Snipe Buschwit Leaves McNulty Angel Zeller Slats Carter Duster Cook Wigsy Lefty Burns One-eyed Jack Bonsey Dobbins Sparrow Kelly Snubsy Harry “Dowie” Spencer

[feralphoenix]

NO ONE IS HAPPY WITH THIS: Leitmotif & Sound Palette In “Sealed Vessel”

whats UP hk fandom i am back with—“more picante takes?” WOW YES HOW DID YOU KNOW!!!

CONTENT WARNING FOR TONIGHTS PROGRAM: today we are discussing the hollow knight boss fight, and all that entails for all the characters involved. relatedly this post does not have anything nice to say about the pale king, so if you’re very protective of his character, you may want to skip it.

FURTHERMORE, i would like to iterate that this essay is working from a place of compassion for ghost, hollow, radiance, AND hornet, because every single one of them is miserable at this point in the game and doesn’t want the events of this boss fight to be happening at all. this post is not an appropriate place to dunk on ANY of them. if you want to do that, please do it elsewhere.

thanks for your understanding.

ALSO, AS USUAL: if youre from a christian cultural upbringing (whether currently practicing, agnostic/secular, or atheist now), understand that some of what i’m discussing here may challenge you. if thinking thru the implications of radiance and the moth tribe’s backstory is distressing for you, PLEASE only approach this essay when youre in a safe mindset & open to listening, and ask the help of a therapist or anti-racism teacher/mentor to help you process your thoughts & feelings. just like keep in mind that youre listening to an ethnoreligiously marginalized person and please be respectful here or wherever else youre discussing this dang essay, ty

NO ONE IS HAPPY WITH THIS: Leitmotif & Sound Palette In “Sealed Vessel”

A while back @grimmradiance​ made a lovely essay about comparing and contrasting Hollow’s moveset in their Hollow Knight and Pure Vessel boss fights and using what can be gleaned from the differences to speculate about their psychology. (This essay is currently their pinned, but I’ll attach a link in a reblog.) It is extremely good, and it made me want to look at the Hollow Knight boss fight my own self through one of my own areas of expertise, meaning music!

As we are all well aware, Christopher Larkin's soundtrack to Hollow Knight rules ass. There are two specific ways in which it rules ass that are relevant to this essay: Leitmotif, and sound palette.

Quick rundown for folks who aren’t familiar with these terms: A leitmotif is a melody associated with a character or event or mood that's incorporated into songs in different ways based on what's happening in the story. Undertale is an example of a game with an incredibly strong use of leitmotif that’s really only possible because Toby Fox is both the composer and the game creator, so he can synchronize the subtleties of the writing with music and scene scripting too.

The phrase “sound palette” can have a lot of meanings, but in this case I’m using it to refer to specific instruments or groups of instruments that are associated with certain characters. If you’ve watched Steven Universe and seen interviews/production commentary by its composer team Aivi & Surasshu, you’ll hear them talking about part of their approach to scoring episodes being how each main character is represented by certain instruments: Steven with the triangle wave, Pearl with jazz piano, and so on.

Hollow Knight is a small team project rather than a one-person show, so Christopher Larkin can’t go quite AS over-the-top with leitmotif integration as Toby Fox can on simple virtue of Team Cherry having to communicate what they want to him. But Larkin is Hollow Knight's sound designer as well as its composer, so he folds leitmotif and character sound palette together with striking use of stems to create a very immersive and cinematic musical experience that enhances HK’s story and gameplay.

This brings us back to the track Sealed Vessel, which has EXTREMELY tight and cinematic sound design and uses leitmotif and sound palette to not just sock players in the feelings during a charged and dramatic boss fight, but also tell us a lot about what Hollow and Radiance are experiencing emotionally, especially with the gameplay in mind.

So, let’s play the soundtrack version of Sealed Vessel (and some other stuff) and talk about what’s going on in the game during it!

You may want to get out your copy of the OST or visit Christopher Larkin’s Bandcamp page so that you can listen along.

LEITMOTIF & SOUND PALETTE

Before we actually get into analyzing Sealed Vessel, let’s talk about the involved characters’ leitmotifs/sound palettes so we know what we’re listening for.

Both of these things are easiest to identify when characters have a distinct theme song. Ghost does not. However, the main theme of Hollow Knight (see: the title track, Hollow Knight) is used as a leitmotif for the vessels as a whole. Most pieces involved with a vessel character include this leitmotif somewhere. For instance, you can find this leitmotif and variations on it in Broken Vessel’s boss theme. The Vessel leitmotif is led by a cello solo here, so we can identify that the cello is the central part of Broken Vessel’s personal sound palette.

When the Vessel theme is associated with Ghost in specific, it tends to be performed by viola and/or piano, as it is on the title track and in other places like the opening cinematic.

Moving on to Hollow, their specific sound palette is established not in Sealed Vessel but in Pure Vessel, their pantheon boss theme. (Sealed Vessel was composed first, since the Godmaster DLC didn’t drop until over a year after HK’s initial release, meaning Pure Vessel was reverse-engineered/extrapolated from relevant parts of Sealed Vessel. But we’ll get into that later!)

The major instrumental fixtures in Pure Vessel are choir and tubular bells (i.e., those dramatic vertical fellas that sound like church bells or a carillon), with some soft background instrumentation: bass drum, woodwinds (appropriately led by flute in the main melody’s “falling motion” - flute is the centerpiece of TPK’s sound palette), strings, and high/mid brass. Hollow’s overall sound palette has a very Christian choir-esque sound (in the Pure Vessel theme this is very idealized and saintly: soft and slow and tragic) and the beginning of their leitmotif has a very distinctive climbing melody that mirrors their ascent from the Abyss. The Unbearable Vesselness Of Being leitmotif is absent from the Pure Vessel track.

Meanwhile, Radiance’s boss theme is a very fun expression of her character upon which Larkin evidently went ham. Her sound palette is expressed through full orchestra (plus choir and pipe organ) that has a special emphasis on the bass part of the brass section, which does not see much use in the HK soundtrack. Her leitmotif has also got cute and distinctive touches: It’s full of triplets to match her tiara-looking antennae, and also has a repeated “fluttery” pattern of background sixteenth notes as countermelody, often spiraling downwards.

The majority of the piece is loud and bombastic and in a minor key to play up the “resplendent and terrible” wrathful aspect of herself Radi is pushing during this section of gameplay, a very quintessentially moth intimidation tactic: Try to look as scary as possible to keep your enemies from messing with you, since you’re not built for fighting. These blasts of intensity from the brass section match Radiance’s strategy of Overwhelm You With Bullet Hell Spam To Make Up For Lack Of Battle Experience/Poor Aim. But in between said intensity spikes you can hear traces of softer instrumentation and major key, little glimpses of a gentle warmth we can otherwise only infer from her backstory and the implications of Moth Tribe lore.

0:00 - 0:41 - OPENING AMBIANCE

The Sealed Vessel track begins with the ambiance of the Black Egg Temple’s interior: The faint tones of the glowing seals we hear when we pass by them, the only light in a pitch-black world besides the floor lighting up under Ghost’s feet.

Then a slow string tremolo fades in, slowly growing louder. In the track new notes join the tremolo progressively, while in-game a violin joins the anticipatory chord every time you snap one of Hollow’s chains. Which, may I say: A+++++++ sound design!!!!!! Rules ass!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The tremolo reaches a peak in dynamics - all three characters present are extremely tense - and then cuts off to allow for Hollow’s boss battle opening, i.e. Radiance screaming. Team Cherry kindly demarcates each phase of the battle with a Radi yell.

0:43 - 1:39 - PHASE 1: HOLLOW ON AUTOPILOT

Phase 1 opens immediately with Hollow’s leitmotif in bells, but with brass, piano, and percussion backing them up; grand and tragic. In the background the bass section of the orchestra's strings flutter in a repetitive pattern of 16th notes, i.e. Panicky Radi Noises. The violins harmonize with Hollow's leitmotif as it climbs, but then join the rest of the string section in fluttering 16th notes, transmuting what in Pure Vessel is the flute leading Hollow back down (8th notes) to a slightly louder “a” from the backseat.

In actual gameplay, the only attacks Hollow uses are their basic nail skills. Building on grimmradiance’s analysis of the window their attacks provide to their psychology, and pairing that with the Pure Vessel leitmotif booming over the metaphorical loudspeakers, we can tell that this is Hollow reacting automatically to a threat the way that their father trained them to. Their conscious mind might still be making dialup noises at Ghost’s sudden reappearance jumpscaring them with murky childhood guilt and trauma, but that’s only let muscle memory take over. Slash, parry, charge and thrust. Their time spent at bee bootcamp (which we can assume because Hornet was trained at the Hive and Hollow’s form while nail fighting is identical to hers on their shared moves) has served them well.

Radiance, meanwhile, has frozen completely for this combat phase, and contributes nothing here except the anxiety of the string section.

As the strings continue to go “a” the piano (Ghost) and woodwinds harmonize on something between Hollow’s personal leitmotif and the Vessel leitmotif in the backdrop.

However at around 1:29ish, the key changes, building into an overall color change for the Sealed Vessel piece.

1:39 - 2:15 - PHASE 2: SHE’S AS SCARED OF YOU AS YOU ARE OF HER

In actual gameplay, the part of Sealed Vessel used for phases 1 and 2 of the Hollow Knight fight is the Entirety of 0:43 - 2:15, possibly because there’s no easy transition spot like there is between phase 2 and phase 3. But the changes to Hollow’s moveset are clearly tied to this specific part of the piece.

Phase 2 is where Radiance pushes herself past her freeze response and starts trying to hit Ghost. Hollow gains two attacks here, which we can tell are Radi because they’re often accompanied by her crying (a softer and more abbreviated sound than her full scream): These two attacks are the Infection blob blast and the Light/Void pillar attack that hits for a full 2 masks damage (which appear to be Radi’s take on Hollow’s Pure Vessel-exclusive moves, their grabby tentacles & silver knife pillars respectively).

In the Sealed Vessel track, this part of the piece is almost entirely Radiance’s fluttering. The strings start by following the descending motion of Hollow’s leitmotif but in 16th notes, then ratchet up to start spiraling down again while straying further from Hollow’s leitmotif. This section ends in a back and forth between hard blasts in a one-two-(rest)-one-two-three pattern and gasps of fluttering between, with piano and low brass building behind it. Eventually the nervous fluttering of the strings becomes less frequent between the blasts: Radiance is inexperienced with fighting and very very afraid, but she’s also FUCKING PISSED and prepared to defend herself.

The OST version of the piece punctuates the break between the first half of the piece and the second with Radiance’s scream.

2:16 - 4:04 - PHASE 3: “I’M HELPING! :)” SAID HOLLOW; “HOLY SHIT PLEASE DON’T,” SAID LITERALLY EVERYONE

Phase 3 opens with Hollow stabbing themself repeatedly, a movement pattern they repeat throughout the phase. It is shocking the first time you see it, and never stops being horrible and sad no matter how many times you do this part of the fight.

Here, Hollow’s mind has finally come back online after their own freeze response, and they choose to destroy themself and bequeath the duty of sealing Radiance to Ghost. Even if they can’t be the one to make their father proud, they can still make sure their directive gets carried out.

Radiance knows exactly what they’re up to and why, and she reacts to this by completely losing her head and mashing buttons in a panic. This is something we see out of her at the ends of her boss fights too, where she’s feeling too threatened and afraid to do anything but spam optic blasts. In the Hollow Knight boss fight this manifests in two horrifying-looking but easy-to-avoid new attacks: The Infection blob sprinkler and the ragdoll.

Ghost does not react visibly because we're in gameplay, but their horror and grief at their sibling’s choice is echoed in the BGM. The Sealed Vessel piece goes soft and sad, with Ghost’s associated viola leading the bass strings in the Unbearable Vesselness of Being leitmotif. At 2:51 the violin comes in with Hollow’s leitmotif, and gradually the choir appears in the backdrop. The ensemble’s overall dynamics build in a slow crescendo, and at the very end of this segment the other instruments begin to join in.

This segment of the piece is also used in phase 4, which occurs if you don't have Hornet’s help or miss your cue to Dream Nail Hollow. Phase 3 ends when Hollow reaches 0 HP; in phase 4 they are for all purposes already dead. But Radiance manifests an extra 250 HP out of terrified, unadulterated FUCK YOU FUCK THIS!!! even though all she can do is get Hollow to fall on their face trying to slash and ragdoll them around. The BGM continues to play as Ghost absorbs Radiance from Hollow and Hollow’s body loses its shape and dissolves into liquid Void.

And there’s one other place in gameplay Sealed Vessel (Unbearable Vesselness of Being) is used: The Path of Pain, the completely evil kaizo-level obstacle course which presumably featured in Hollow’s childhood training, and behind which the Pale King has hidden his last and most terrible secret—that he had realized on some level that Hollow was a kid with feelings who loved him and wanted to make him proud, and condemned them to death despite it all by using them to imprison and torture Radiance as he’d always planned.

The OST version of Sealed Vessel includes the music for both normal ending cinematics, so we’ll be looking at them too.

4:05 - 4:35: ENDINGS 1/2: NO ONE IS HAPPY WITH THIS

In the BGM for The Hollow Knight and Sealed Siblings endings, the Vessel leitmotif is played by violin, viola, and choir while the cellos and contrabasses—and then the brass bass section too—play a slower version of Radiance’s downward spiral. But once Ghost is pierced by the Black Egg’s chains and Radiance’s struggle to free herself ends in failure, the soprano and bass sections harmonize. The animation zooms out of the temple and the seal reforms. They are stuck together now until the end of Ghost’s life. Hooray.

The OST version of the track immediately segues into the BGM for Dream No More.

4:36 - 5:45: ENDING 3: THANKS, I HATE IT

Here, Hornet’s associated instrument, the violin, plays one long sustained note with a few notes of Ghost’s piano alongside as she wakes up.

TPK’s goddamn flute comes in at 5:00 with his leitmotif overpowering the backdrop Vessel leitmotif on piano while Hornet surveys the carnage: The temple has been destroyed, Radiance is dead, and what’s left of Ghost’s corpse is smeared across the floor. The Void may have taken umbrage with his horseshit and unceremoniously vored him, but the motherfucker still got what he wanted in the end; the Pale King has ended the Infection by completing his genocide of the moths, using the children he abused and abandoned as his proxies, and wasting two of their lives. Can I get a hearty THIS SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! in the chat.

Given that Hornet herself is canonically unsure if bringing the fight to Radiance is really a just course of action, one can only imagine how she must feel when she sees the cost of that decision.

Our only real moment of catharsis is in this shit situation comes in at 5:13, where the flute gives way to a solo from Ghost’s associated viola, playing the Vessel leitmotif as the Siblings curl up and sink back into the mountain of their corpses. Goodnight, kiddos. You deserved better, and so did literally everyone involved in this whole stupid boss fight.

This is where the OST version of Sealed Vessel ends. Even without the gameplay and story context it slaps, but now that we’ve taken a look at how this 5:45 piece is wall to wall misery and fear on the part of literally every involved character, hopefully it will have even more impact!

[pyrefell]

Helllo!!! I’m loving your headcanons so far!!!

Do you have any general personalities descriptions for your boys yet?

a of all, bsdaifjkbfjkowp thank you!!! b of all, im sorry this took so long?? i rewrote it like 3 times & it still might change bc im indecisive. also it turned into a lil bit of a headcanon post. i hope its understandable?

once again i am struck with the fact that the boys need nicknames. hmm.

UNDERTALE:

Sans: Guy who is deliberately and unabashedly Cringe. Overall, fairly laid back. However, he still prefers to maintain distance between himself and most people. It was already a natural facet of his personality but it was exacerbated by the Timeline Jank. People tend to forget he’s as smart as he is, they don’t think he’s stupid, they just mostly know that funnyman side of him. If you're a dick to Papyrus, he's gonna be a dick to you.  

Papyrus: Things are so exciting and fascinating to him, even the most mundane things. Despite seeming completely oblivious to things that seem completely obvious, he's very smart and deceptively cunning. Even though he knows how people see him (a big loud child) and he doesn't get quite the reception his brother does, he knows he'll win them over one day! He tries to avoid thinking about how lonely he actually is. It’s fine. He knows Sans is dealing with something (he won’t tell him what) but he figures he doesn’t need much else on his plate.

UNDERSWAP:

Sans: In this post, I mentioned that he's kind of always naturally been the more outgoing brother and that he's taken on this much more outgoing and bubbly persona as a result of the impact the timelines have had on him. He's competitive in a more aggressive way (maybe not quite the right word to use but), by which I mean he's kind of a sore loser sometimes. Also? He's a huge flirt, he's pretty skilled in the art of flustering.

Papyrus: Also in this post, I said that he's pretty chill until the conversation turns to something he's passionate about, then he reaches True Papyrus Volume Levels (and Chaos Levels). He is fairly relaxed, yes, but part of it is compensating for how awkward he can be. He gets embarrassed really easy, even something as small as misunderstanding something that was said. However! He’s a pretty popular artist online! Though he uses a pseudonym, being recognized and talked to by a stranger in public is not something he would look forward to.

UNDERFELL:

Sans: He’s cruel and crude, that’s kind of his whole thing. He’s not really the best at keeping a hold on his temper (though there’s a few other factors at play there). Keeping up the whole tough guy persona is the number one priority thus he doesn’t deal much with his emotions or inner turmoil or any of that other crap. Like US!Sans, he’s a flirt, except his flirting is mostly crude comments and jokes. And yet, somehow it works? Guy who is a disaster. He’s oddly nostalgic, mostly about his relationship with Papyrus. He wishes he could have been a better brother, but it seems like their relationship is too far gone.

Papyrus: He also doesn’t have the best control of his temper but he has an image to keep, one of a cruel and cold Royal Guard Captain. He didn’t used to be like this, but it’s necessary for his survival. He’s still surprisingly empathetic, something that could never really be beat out of him. HUGE perfectionist nearly to the point of it being debilitating. He oscillates between hating how weak he is and desperately wanting to be able to be weak. While he acts prideful about his ‘work’ int the Royal Guard, he is genuinely prideful about things like his cooking. Often to the point of arrogance.

SWAPFELL:

Sans: He’s seen as very cold and calculating, well-spoken. But he also knows when and how to turn on the charm. That’s how he’s even made it this far in life, it’s vital to his survival. He can also be very prideful, particularly in his position as Queen Toriel’s right hand and in his ability to remain cool in high stress situations. He’s well aware of how overprotective he is with Papyrus, he’s terrified of how cruel the world is and terrified that he’s stunted him to the point of not being able to cope with it.

Papyrus: He’s deathly shy. If it were safe/a good idea to use his own brand of shortcuts to get out of situations, by god would he. He, like his non-Fell counterpart, thrives in the relative anonymity of being online. Past that barrier of shyness, he’s excitable and surprisingly jovial. He tries to find some reason to be at least content, he thinks it helps Sans worry less (even if it doesn’t really). He’s actually pretty mischievous, though only dares to pull pranks on his brother.

HORRORTALE:

Sans: Horribly cynical and jaded. He’s working on it, even if he doesn’t particularly want to sometimes. He’s not home, so to speak, most of the time. He’s easily frustrated by the gaps in his memory, then he forgets why he’s frustrated and gets even more upset. He’s naturally very wary of everyone else and again, very much prefers to keep distance between himself and most everyone he comes into contact with.

Papyrus: He definitely tries to hide everything behind a happy demeanor, he tries to fix everything for just about anyone (especially his brother) without any fuss and tries to make it seem like he’s totally fine. There’s also this sense of jadedness, he tries to curb it but sometimes it still slips out. He still tries to act like himself, like he’d been before the Famine, but it’s exhausting and he’ll eventually come to terms with the fact that he’s no longer the same.

HORRORSWAP:

Sans: His competitive nature has morphed more into him being more of an aggressive hothead (though not quite to the level of UF!Sans). He’s really self-conscious about his new stutter and bringing it up frustrates him the same way treating him like a child had before. He has terrible mood swings, he can ruin his own day over nothing and it kills him. He’s really trying to get better, but he still has a hard time being honest with people.

Papyrus: He’s gotten pretty cynical since the Famine, he puts part of the blame on himself (if only he'd just been brave for once), even though he knows there's not really a whole lot he could have done. He’s even quieter than he used to be, he’d prefer if he could just fade into the background. He hates how much he stands out in any crowd and tries to avoid going out at all costs. The only one who can get him out is Sans because at least they can ignore everyone else and concern themselves with each other.

HORRORFELL:

Sans: He’s...mean. Like. He tends to be a major jackass. He can’t help but think well, humans aren’t exactly gonna wanna know a monster, much less him. And hey! Might just help keep his newly expanded family safe! He ain’t complainin’! He’s really just bitter about how things have gone for him and his brother (and about how things will likely go in the future). For as many dark jokes he makes to Frisk and Aliza, he’d be the first one to come to their rescue, he’s just that kind of friend.

Papyrus: He’s fairly quiet these days, but don’t think he’s not going to find some way to give you some kind of attitude. He’s been putting a lot of work into taming his anger, which is no small task considering everything. He still has his moments, but he prides himself in being able to cool off and keep himself somewhat calm. He still hasn’t been able to do much about his perfectionism, in fact it’s gotten worse, but he’s trying. And he, like his brother, is extremely protective of his little family, and god help anyone who dares try anything.

A B-Bonus????

UF!Comic Papyrus: (he’s the only one with a nickname...lol) Reggie here struggles a lot with who he is as a person, is he more Sans? More Papyrus? An even 50/50? Or is he someone else entirely? He’s introspective and hyper aware of his mannerisms, particularity in the ones he deems too Sans-like or too Papyrus-like. He’s not exactly the nicest, partially as a mechanism to keep people away (it’s just...easier that way). Reggie keeps to himself most of the time. He’s not shy though, he’s more than willing to speak his mind, even if it comes out more crass than it was intended.

[newtonsheffield]

Loved the headcanons about what Kate does for Anthony 💕 not a specific request , just looking for more Kate and Anthony cos they are everything. Hit me with anything you fancy😍

Hello! 

My word, this has obviously been sitting in here for the longest time, and so, I am going to do something I have never done before, and post an outtake to an older fic here. Well, kind of. This was a scene I had planned for Saturday and I cut it for time. By “cut it for time” I mean, I didn’t have time to write it because my life is a chaotic disaster, despite my best efforts and this seemed very close to what had happened already in Committed 

So without further ado I present:  Anthony, and the Saturday morning he decided on his Scrabble proposal plan.  (I must also dedicate this to Soft Anthony Anon whom I feel deserves this)

Anthony had been ruminating on his idea since last night. He’d stormed inside after coming home from the Danbury ball, still dripping wet thundering up the stairs even as Kate, no less wet behind him said gently “Come on, let’s go to bed.” tugging him gently by the hand into their bedroom. And his terrible mood had ebbed away as he’d watched Kate slowly go about her nighttime routine. She removed her contact lenses, just like always, squinting at him as she chatted to him from where he sat barefoot, feeling shame at his terrible mood, incompetence really, as though he wanted to sink into the carpet. God, if he couldn’t even ask her to be his wife how was he ever going to be a good husband? But still Kate smiled happily at him, when she slid into bed beside him kissing his cheek softly and whispered  “I had a nice time tonight.” as she settled her head against his shoulder, her glasses still in place signalling that she wanted to talk to him for a little while longer. Anthony scoffed

“Yes, as everyone knows, getting drenched by a sprinkler is the highlight of any social engagement.” Anthony said primly, resting his cheek against the top of her head as she laughed brightly, her fingers drawing nonsensical patterns in the fabric of his shirt. and God that sound The sound he’d heard that had started all of this, the one he’d heard one day and known desperately that he wanted to cause that sound, to stand close and bask in its glow. He could hear it every day for the rest of his life and never get bored. 

“I always have a good time with you. Whether we’re out or at home, I love spending time with you, you know.” Kate said sighing happily, her voice tilting upwards at the end,  as she nuzzled her nose against his neck lightly. And everything had solidified. His heart fluttering happily at her words.

And he’d woken this morning, his mind buzzing with a plan, his heart beating excitedly at the prospect. He loved how Kate looked, always. Her crisp business attire, sharp and commanding her tall heels making her legs look miles long. Her weekend clothes, soft lines and bright colours radiating happiness. But truly, his favourite Kate was the one laying next to him right now. Her face bathed in early morning light, her hair in complete disarray across his chest, the shirt she was wearing was the very one he’d given her the first night they’d spent together Oxford written across her chest giving him a savage sense of pride that she’d taken this and never returned it. A sign she was his, even from very early in their relationship. There was a casual intimacy in someone letting you see them at their least put together. He remembered the very first time he’d seen her wearing glasses. The Monday after their first date, he’d arrived at her house and shed already been wearing them, settled for the night and he’d been a little taken aback.

“You wear glasses!” He’d said a little brightly smiling at her “Do you wear contacts during the day?” He’d questioned genuinely curious, craving knowledge about his new girlfriend, desperate to know as much about her as possible. And she’d fiddled with them nervously, her lip caught between her teeth  “Umm Yes, I wear contacts, but they itch my eyes but the end of the day so I usually take them out when I get home. Sorry.” She’d finished awkwardly, apologetically, as her eyes skittered uncomfortably around the room. And Anthony’s heart had sunk, irritation filling him a little at the thought that someone had made her feel self conscious, lesser than, for something like this. When truly, he couldn’t imagine a time coming when he wouldn’t find Kate ludicrously enticing, even in her ridiculous Spiceworld shirt, another interesting fact he’d filed away about her. He’d reached out and tugged her arm until she toppled into him, with a surprised little sound that had had pooling in his stomach as he reached down and adjusted her glasses slightly before growling in her ear as she shivered delightfully against him “Now, Miss Sheffield, why ever would you be sorry about something so absolutely adorable?” And he’d spent the rest of the evening showing her just how much he liked learning new facts about her. 

And truly now, this was his his favourite Kate. His Kate who laughed and smiled with him, and made him foods that he butchered the pronunciation of that had her shaking her head at her sister muttering something softly in Hindi to her sister who laughed brightly and Anthony tried not to feel offended at the fact she’d once said only the swear words when he’d asked if she could speak Hindi. Endlessly competitive, and high spirited who’d stormed into his life, picked up all the broken pieces and gently placed them back together in a new picture that was far more beautiful. 

His practically bursting with love and excitement as she snored softly, and her eye lids fluttered open and a soft smile came to her face when she looked at him with recognition flashing in her eyes  her voice rough with sleep when she spoke 

“What are you thinking about that has you smiling like that Mr. Bridgerton?”  And Anthony had clucked his tongue, with a theatrical groan and said  “Just reliving the wonderful time I bested you at Scrabble by 95 points. Goodness I rather enjoyed getting to unwrap my prize afterwards.” He said, his voice low running his fingers pointedly down her spine. The effect was immediate, Kate shot up in bed, her eyes flashing angrily even as her cheeks flushed in clear memory of exactly how he’d claimed his victory that night. 

“We’re playing Scrabble tonight. Bring your A game, Bridgerton” She hissed at him like an angry goose in the way he found endlessly adorable. And it was all he could do not to hoot his victory already.            

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Two ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG

Word count: 3048

Warnings: None

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour-rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Surprise! I wrote another chapter so I decided to go ahead and make another post. The reasoning behind this is I want to stay one month ahead and only one month ahead. That will give me a helpful buffer for when life happens but I don’t want to stockpile any more chapters than necessary. You know? So...here’s chapter two!

It’s nearing nightfall by the time we finally stop. My bones are stiff, my butt is sore, and my back hurts from all the tension I kept there out of fear that I would otherwise fall and be trampled under the horse’s quick-moving hooves.

Baranor slides down, reaching his arms up to me. I place my hands on his shoulders and allow him to help me off the horse. I stumble the moment my feet hit the ground.

Orophin—who I’ve yet to actually talk to—offers me a sympathetic smile. “Have you not ridden in a while? Take a short walk and stretch a little. It will help you feel less sore in the morning.”

I nod my thanks, tentatively releasing my hands from Baranor’s arms and turning away from the horses.

“Do not go far.” I jump. Haldir’s voice floats from the tree line just in front of us. I hadn’t seen him dismount, let alone climb into the branches. “We are not in guarded territory.”

With that ominous warning, I decide it’s best to stay close to the others. We’re near enough to the riverbank, so I hobble to the edge of the water and back again. Once movement comes a little easier, I extend my path to the tree line.

A voice to my left interrupts the silence. “Do you remember anything else?”

I yelp, placing a hand over my racing heart.

Rumil grins, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He hands me a canteen. “Sorry. I forget how terrible human senses are.”

I raise an eyebrow but bring the canteen to my lips, grateful for the drink. “And, what, elves are so much better?”

Mentally, I admonish myself for playing along. There’s no such thing as elves. Either they’re messing with me, or I really am having a wildly vivid dream.

Rumil nods, shrugging his shoulders in a way that suggests the answer is obvious. “Well, yes. We live longer, have better sight, hearing, reflexes. We do not tire as quickly as humans do, and we have a respect for our kin that the race of man cannot hope to imitate. I do not mean to offend.” He smiles, carrying a note of apology in his voice. “It’s only the truth.”

I shrug, unbothered by his comment. Because if elves exist in this world I dreamed up, why shouldn’t they be better than humans? It’s just as likely that I’ve imagined a race that’s worse than humans, and I only haven’t met them yet. “If you say so. But to answer your question, no, I don’t remember anything else. How long was I passed out?”

From his place by the now-grazing horses, Baranor answers. “Not long once we arrived, but I do not know how long you laid there before.”

“Yes, and you are quite lucky we arrived, especially with Baranor in tow.” Rumil winks, gripping my elbow and turning me back towards the part of the ground where I assume we will sleep tonight.

I give Baranor a questioning look.

He smiles awkwardly, a bit self-conscious. “I am quite skilled as a healer. I used the power in my spirit to call to your own. You were very nearly dead when we happened upon you.”

I file that information away. Power in my spirit…Probably something I’d read in a book once that my brain has brought up now. And these men I’m with—elves, I guess, according to the dream—must be people I know from…from…

But the fledgling thought dies away, leaving me with no more answers than before. I try to push back my disappointment, my logical side kicking in to soothe me. It’s okay. Soon the doctors will fix you, or you’ll wake up from this dream, and everything will be fine. You just have to wait. No point in getting freaked out.

Rumil, Baranor, and I settle on the high part of the riverbank. Orophin sits too, once he’s done refilling the canteens. I glance at the trees. I haven’t seen Haldir since we stopped riding. “Is he not going to join us?”

Orophin and Baranor exchange looks, but Rumil just snorts. “Likely not. As he said, we are neither in the territory guarded by the wardens of Lothlórien nor the patrols of Elrond. Someone has to watch for threats. More often than, not, Haldir insists on the job for himself. He doesn’t trust us to keep good enough watch.”

“That’s not it and you know it,” Orophin hisses, and I flinch at the anger in his voice, even though it wasn’t directed at me. I have no idea how Rumil keeps his face blank. The two stare each other down until Orophin speaks again, still through gritted teeth. “Go and collect the rations for dinner.”

Rumil rolls his eyes, but does as his brother says.

Baranor clears his throat, and I’m grateful when he changes the subject. He inclines his head towards me. “I see you are dressed for travel. Perhaps you were part of a company and got separated?”

Mildly perplexed, I look down at my body. Huh. He’s right. Something I had yet to take notice of is the clothes I wear — sturdy dark leggings, a deep green tunic, a red cloak, and thick leather boots. I haven’t the slightest idea how I conjured up these clothes, but Baranor is right — they’re perfect for this type of outdoor traveling.

Rumil returns and places a bundle of leaves in each of our hands. Inside seems to be bread and slices of some sort of fruit. Hesitantly, I take a bite. It’s surprisingly good.

“So how long until we reach this friend of yours?”

“Elrond,” Orophin informs, looking down the path we intend to continue on tomorrow. “Probably about thirteen more days, unless we hit bad weather. The mountains will take the longest, and traveling with a human will slow us down.” He realizes his words, eyes growing wide. “I don’t mean to be rude—”

“No, no, I get it.” I wave him off, picking at the bread in my hands. These elves sure have a bad view of me. “Humans suck.”

“At least it’s still spring,” Rumil supplies, trying to lighten the mood. “That will make our path through the Misty Mountains easier.”

“Right you are,” Baranor agrees, sipping from his canteen. “I detest crossing them in the snow.”

The three elves slip into easy conversation, exchanging stories of the worst travel conditions each has suffered, trying to one-up each other. While they talk, I place my bread back in its leaves and on the ground, no longer hungry. The stories they tell are quite detailed, and there’s this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I wouldn’t be able to make all this up…the landscape, the language, a whole new species with differing characteristics, vast knowledge of this world’s travel ways, four fully-thought-out ‘characters’, for lack of a better word….Dread and fear mingle with exhaustion and I slump, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and go to sleep for a very long time. Perhaps when I wake, all will be well.

The murmurs from those around me sound muffled. A hand wraps grips one of my shoulders, holding me upright, and Baranor’s voice comes from beside my ear. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head, feeling the weight of their eyes on me. “I’m just exhausted.”

He makes a noise of agreement. “Of course you are, I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

I try and wave off his apology, but it seems like too much effort to raise my arm over such a little thing. From the corner of my eye, I see Rumil stand and visit the horses. He returns carrying a rolled up mat and a folded blanket. He unfurls both, setting them on the ground between our gathering spot and the tree line. He beckons for me to join him and, with great effort, I stand without help, going to meet him as requested.

“Here. Sorry it’s not much. If we had known we’d be traveling with a lady, we would have brought much cushier sleeping provisions.”

I roll my tired eyes, realizing that he’s mocking me. “Goodnight, Rumil.”

He grins, sauntering off to rejoin his companions. “Goodnight, Cosima.”

I all but collapse on the mat, pulling the surprisingly warm blanket over my shoulders. Before I’m aware what’s happening, I’ve plunged into sleep.

{***}

Baranor woke me with the sun, and I’m very grateful to be leaning against him rather than directing the horse. I feel much too groggy to properly steer such a beast, especially given the fact that I have no idea how. Even though he must have stayed up most of the night, Haldir doesn’t look the slightest bit tired, and, on behalf of the bags underneath my eyes, I am thoroughly annoyed. He hasn’t said a word to me aside from the few sentences yesterday. I understand it a bit more now, though. He seems to be the leader of this group, and has either been charged with its security, or taken the task upon himself. Despite there not being another soul in sight, he rides at the front of our group—straight backed, stiff, his head on a near-constant swivel. Orophin tends to stay near one of Haldir’s shoulders—guarding his back and providing a sort of second watch, I presume. Rumil alternates between riding in-step with the horse Baranor and I occupy and cantering along behind us.

If riding was difficult yesterday, it is doubly so this morning.

Every bounce jolts though my bones, and I seem always on the verge of being tossed to the side, never quite able to fall into the rhythm the other four find so easily.  

Rumil pulls up beside us, seeming to showcase his perfect form. “Having trouble?”

I grit my teeth, but that only makes them clash together as the horse’s feet collide with the ground. “No.”

He snorts. “Toes up, heels down. Grip the horse with your legs, don’t put all that tension in your back. And if Baranor were human, you’d have strangled him by now. Loosen up.”

Baranor huffs out a laugh and takes an exaggerated breath when I relax my hold around him. “Finally, I can breathe!”

“So dramatic,” I mumble, rolling my eyes for Rumil’s benefit.

“What was that,” Baranor questions, though I know if he has as good hearing as he claims to have, he surely heard my comment.

“I said you’re a really great rider,” I shout.

The three of us dissolve into laughter, and I lose myself in this. For a moment, I forget that I am dreaming, that this is a strange world I made up in my head. I forget that I haven’t the slightest idea what comes next. Instead, I start to forge the first tentative bonds of friendship.

{***}

I am glad when we stop for the evening, and run through some stretches to try and help with the muscle aches. Rumil’s pointers certainly helped though, and I have hopes that perhaps this discomfort is only temporary. We still follow the river, and once again make camp in the space on the high, grassy bank. Bathing was an experience, but it was mercifully quick. The water was much too cold for my liking, so I washed as hastily as I could and then redressed, joining the others on the bank. I lean over to wring the water from my hair, the saturation making it seem nearly black. It’s getting quite long—almost too long, and I hope wherever we’re going has someone willing to cut it. Rumil watches me curiously as I take a spare cloth and scrunch my hair—bringing out its natural waves—but says nothing, only continues giving me an odd look. I guess with the stick-straight hair of he and his brothers, this would look unusual. Just as I am about to tease him for his staring, Haldir comes in to sight, looking quite severe.

“We have lost the cover of the trees. We will take watch in pairs, rotating halfway through the night. Orophin, Baranor—you take the first shift.”

They dutifully follow Haldir’s order, and I watch their faces as they pass. They show no signs of tiredness—no bags under their eyes, no yawning, in fact, not even a hair is out of place—but if it were me, I would be absolutely exhausted with all this staying up. And, though it is technically their turn to rest, Rumil and Haldir are still on their feet, occupying themselves with tending to the horses. I feel awful, peacefully sitting on my bedroll, messing with my hair and eating dinner, knowing I’ll get a full night’s sleep when none of them will have that luxury.

I return my food to the sack loaned to me and push myself to my feet, tentatively approaching Rumil and his brother. Rumil smiles in greeting. Haldir merely glances up and then back to his horse’s hoof he’s bending over to attend. Though I fight to keep my eyes open as it is, it’s not right for me to leave them to do all the work. So, I try to project energy I do not feel, and pose my question. “Do you want me to take a watch shift tonight?”

Haldir stiffens. Rumil raises his eyebrows and vibrates slightly—he’s holding back laughter! I give them my best unimpressed look.

Rumil tries to hide his amusement but can’t do away with his wide grin. “We appreciate the offer, really. But having a human stand watch when we have elves at our disposal? It would be the same to not set a watch at all.”

I huff, crossing my arms, trying to ignore the heat I feel in my cheeks. All this talk of how incapable humans are is getting a little old. “Well, there must be something I can do to help. I shouldn’t go straight to bed if the rest of you are still working.”

Rumil’s expression softens. He purses his lips, seeming to search for either a task for me or a way to turn me away.

“Do you know how to mend clothing?”

I’m momentarily caught off guard. Haldir hasn’t looked up from clearing his horse’s hooves, but it was definitely him who spoke.

Unbidden, the action of holding a ripped piece of cloth and using a needle and threat to bind it comes to mind. I must know how. So I answer in the affirmative. “Yeah, I think so.”

Haldir nods, straightening only to exchange one hoof for the other, never making eye contact with either me or his brother. “Good. There’s a blue tunic in my largest bag that needs mending, and one of Rumil’s too—that one’s red. Work with the light. Stop when you can’t see anymore and finish in the morning.”

I blink and feel my head tilt to the side. That’s the most he’s ever said to me. But it’s not even that he spoke, it’s how. Every syllable is crisp, curt, and succinct—a command in every sense of the word. I long-ago realized that Haldir is in charge of this little group, though now I wonder if he supervises in a larger capacity back in his home. I get the feeling he’s quite used to talking to people like this, and being obeyed.

But I did ask for something to do, so I don’t comment on his tone, only say my goodbyes and retrieve the shirts he’s described. They’re exactly where he said they would be and wrapped around a small sewing kit. I take the supplies and return to my bedroll, working through the sunset. When it grows too dark to see, I put the project away. Rumil and Haldir join me, bringing dinner with them. They set out their mats in a sort of triangle, and I realize somewhat belatedly that this allows each of us to watch the other’s back. It seems second-nature to them, to be cautions and on their guard, even during dinnertime and sleep.

I try to distract myself from that disconcerting thought. “Why are we going to meet this friend of yours anyway?”

Rumil’s gaze turns to his brother standing watch, a fond look in his eye. “There is an elleth there that Orophin is courting. Their time apart has been too long for his liking, so he is paying her a visit. It is dangerous to travel these lands alone, so Haldir and I took leave to accompany him.”

Courting. Elleth. Where am I finding all these words? I keep talking in an effort to distract myself. “That’s really sweet. Does Baranor usually go with you all, since he’s a healer?”

“Usually,” Rumil confirms. “He has extensive experience in the halls of healing, as well as healing on the battlefield, so he is an excellent addition to any company. Also Elrond—the friend we are taking you to—is an acclaimed healer himself, so he and Baranor enjoy conversing with each other.”

Haldir stretches his arms up, then reclines on his mat. “Better get some sleep, all of us. Rumil—we’re up in four hours.”

I take his advice, laying down on my own bedroll. Exhausted though I am, sleep evades me.

My mind runs a million miles an hour, piecing together bits of information from this world, trying to remember things from my home. And, all the while, thought takes root, sowing seeds of fear in my mind.

Because while I know this world isn’t real, and thus no harm can come to me here…Rumil said these lands are dangerous, and the increased watches only support my theory that we are under some kind of threat. I have no weapon with which to defend myself, let alone any skill, and while I know logically that I could throw myself off a cliff and still be fine….

What if that’s not the case?

I groan, rolling onto my back.

This is ridiculous. This place is made up. I’m trapped inside my own head, so I have no reason to be scared. Go to sleep.

And, when the moon is much higher in the sky, the exhaustion wins.

A/n Thanks for reading! You know how likes, comments, and reblogs make me smile. Let me know if you would like a tag! And if you’re having trouble being tagged (for some reason Tumblr isn’t letting me tag all of you?) try subscribing to the story on Ao3! That will update you when I post there. 

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @fangirl-nonsense @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole

**Strikethrough means Tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you**

[magistralucis]

I plan to read Desiderata but I don't know a thing about Rammstein. What should I know before diving in?

That depends very heavily on what about Rammstein would interest you.

I’ll be honest, anon, Desiderata is not the best story to start with if you’re completely new to R+. The story assumes a familiarity with the band’s history, as well as 1980s East German politics, and depicts both with terms and viewpoints familiar at the time. It’s not very accessible if you want to read a story about Rammstein, I’m afraid, it is very much a period piece.

That said, I can talk a little about what made me write Desiderata; if you’re interested in any of those topics, you’re probably good to go. I will also add some pointers as to how to begin a journey into Rammstein in general. This will be a very long post beneath the cut.

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

1) I’m interested in life during the GDR. I’m especially interested in how ordinary East Germans lived, down to what they ate, the kinds of people they’d meet, where they could travel to for the holidays. What people take for everyday occurrences are anything but outside of their homes. Most of Desiderata takes place in the pre- and early-Rammstein era (1985-1995), when the band members didn’t know they were going to get so big, nor what would happen after the reunification of Germany. I wanted to depict their era realistically. Desiderata is a written painting of that time.

2) I wanted to write on the anti-authoritarian character. To distill a long and complex history down, Rammstein has their origins in Ostpunk, and many of its band members spent their early life resisting the government in one way or another. They didn’t all do this in the same way, nor always with the conscious desire to stick it to the government. Sometimes they paid for it anyway. In Richard’s case, with terrible consequences, as his arrest and detainment by the Stasi finally made him flee the country. Desiderata is written in Richard’s POV and includes a sequence on what might have occurred during this time, as well as an analysis of his general psyche on the years leading up to that arrest. Desiderata’s account relies heavily on actual interviews Richard has done, as well as published Rammstein material, so if you’re interested in a character study of this sort you might like it.

3) I did not want to depict the above through the patronizing lens commonly found in Western media. It’s easy to fall into the trap of binary opposites when you’re writing about stuff like this: Richard was oppressed by the GDR so he must hate everything about the GDR, and/or furthermore, the GDR must have been evil. It’s the other way around if you’re approaching this from an anti-capitalist lens: if the East Germans had known the ‘freedom’ which lay beyond the wall was actually mid-stage capitalism, and if they’d known how badly that shit would break down in a couple of decades, they wouldn’t have wanted it.

Now I do not know what the objectively correct political position is here. But when you’re writing a character study of Richard, it shouldn’t be either of those. It’s definitely not how Rammstein looks at their past, judging by the interviews they’ve given and the books they’ve published; not even Richard has such a black-and-white approach to the life he led. It’s easy to forget that when you’re writing a fic, or even an article which tries to lean on the ‘facts’; one’s subconscious biases inform how they process facts, and I want to do better than that. I’ve fallen into that morality trap before because I didn’t know any better, and as a result I wrote some really bad stories, and I am ashamed of that. Rammstein have led a rich and complicated life with ups and downs. Many of them sincerely loved the GDR, the ones who didn’t still saw plenty of self-admitted good in it. If you would like to bask in my efforts at honesty, as fragmented as it is (for in the end, I am not from the GDR), Desiderata is the best I’ve done to this date.

4) Some good old Tillchard. Yes, I admit it, Desiderata is also a pairing exercise. ‘Tillchard’ is the shorthand for the pairing between Till (vocal) and Richard (lead guitarist); they are longtime friends in real life, and they share a trust between them seldom paralleled by anyone else in the band, imo. They’ve lived together for a time, they raised their daughters together, they began their foray into music in general while being aware of each other. They have duets together for God’s sake. I’ve been digging Tillchard for ten years so I need to stop before this becomes a longer essay than it should be, but long story short, if this becomes the first pairing you’re interested in I’d recommend adding Desiderata to the fanfic pile.

Ultimately, all the above points would still work out for the best if you knew more about Rammstein. Now for the practical recommendations. See if you like their music first: currently they have seven albums out, the most recent of which is Rammstein (2019). I don’t know how hard you like your music, but in order of most hardness to least my rank goes:

Liebe ist für alle da / Reise, Reise

Rammstein (2019)

Sehnsucht

Mutter

Herzeleid

Rosenrot

My personal ranking is:

Mutter

Liebe ist für alle da / Rammstein (2019)

Sehnsucht

Reise, Reise

Herzeleid

Rosenrot

Their best tracks usually have music videos attached to them. Check them out too. R+ take serious care with their music video narratives, they’re often their own little story in themselves. Their live performances are worth watching, even in video. If you can read German, I would also recommend checking out Rammstein literature, of which there are plenty. Till has three volumes of poetry out (Messer, In Stillen Nachten, 100 Gedichte); Flake has two autobiographies (Der Tastenficker and Heute hat die Welt Geburtstag, the latter of which is available in English); Mix Mir Einen Drink is the biography of Feeling B, which many members of Rammstein played in before Rammstein, and is an invaluable source for GDR life.

Out of everything I’ve listed, as of Feb 2021, Flake’s autobiography is hands-down the best place to begin your Rammstein journey. There will be a more extensive book about Rammstein by Olaf Heine soon, but it won’t be released until later this year.

There is no end goal to how much you should be interested in Rammstein, or what about the band you ought to like. At any point in this journey, try out a fic or two, see what you like. The fandom has written about basically every music video, every notable event that happened to the band (some may include sources!), and just about every combination of pairings possible among the six. You are in very well-covered territory, I promise :D

Feel free to ask more questions if need be. There is so much you can write about this band, I’ve definitely not covered everything. If at any point in this process you read Desiderata, and you end up enjoying it, that’s all I could ask for.

[a-dragons-journal]

My Experiences of Nonhumanity

I get asked about “what makes you/people in general feel you’re/they’re otherkin” a lot, and while the answer is far from simple and my experiences are anything but universal, I figure it deserves a write-up once in a while. A friend asked about it a couple nights ago, so I wrote up a huge long message on Discord, and decided to rewrite it into a Tumblr post for posterity. This’ll be a long one, folks; hit J on desktop to skip.

It’s worth noting ahead of time: none of these things are required to be otherkin, and none of them automatically mean you’re otherkin. In fact, most of them are little more than mildly “weird” quirks when they occur in isolation, and only start to push outside the range of “normal human experiences” when many of them occur together. You can’t look at someone (including yourself) and say “they like collecting things, they must be dragonkin!” It’s not that simple. You have to take the individual as a whole even as you examine each specific experience in more detail - don’t lose the forest while you’re studying the trees. This is just a description of my personal experiences.

Shifts

- Phantom shifts/supernumerary phantom limbs: Probably the most obvious thing and the hardest to brush off, although I still managed to do so for years. Phantom shifts, aka supernumerary phantom limbs, are the experience of feeling limbs or body parts that do not and never have physically existed. In my case, the most common phantom limbs to show up are my wings and tail; other body parts, such as digitigrade legs, horns, snout, and paws/talons, also make appearances less frequently. While my phantom limbs almost never attempt to replicate tactile sensations/interactions with the physical world, they’re often defined by very vivid proprioception (ability to tell where your body is in space, mainly via muscle stretch receptors), and I can tell where each part of the limb is at any given time - it’s not just a shapeless sense of “weight,” or it wouldn’t be phantom limbs. I can also move them at will, typically. My phantom shifts are typically spontaneous and involuntary, but they’ve been induced artificially a couple different ways as well, though I can’t typically do it at will.

- Sensory shifts: Still not something I’m totally sure I experience, but there are definitely times my sense of smell becomes insanely strong compared to usual even for me, which fits the definition of a sensory shift.

- Astral shifts: While I’m far from an adept astral traveler, when visualizing “traveling” within my own mindscape, I shift form fluidly between human and dragon - although I almost always have wings at the very least.

- Cameo shifts: Mentioned only because it’s relevant to my phantom shifts. I realized at some point that the reason I get cameo shifts of canine/feline ears sometimes is because they usually show up when they’re pricking/flattening to express emotion, and the muscles that move to do that action are basically the same as the ones that do those actions with the crest that runs down my neck, and because of my obsession with cats/dogs/horses as a young child and because that’s not a particularly strong phantom shift for me usually, I connected the dots a little wrong and created a false association.

- Self-image: This isn’t technically a shift, but it’s going here anyway because it doesn’t really fit in any other section either. My body image/self-image is weird. I know, consciously, what I physically look like. However, my instinctive self-image is... hmm. What I “expect” to see doesn’t always match up with what’s actually there when I look in the mirror. Teeth are a huge point of fixation for me for some reason; I always expect them to be larger, sharper, stronger. I expect my neck to be longer, my face to be... different. I expect scales in places. I expect claws. Even knowing consciously that of course it won’t be there, it’s still strange sometimes that it’s not. There’s sometimes some mild disconnect when I see myself. (Sometimes not. But sometimes.)

Homesickness

(Or, the sense of missing something you’ve never had - not of “I want/want to be [x], and it makes me sad/upset that I don’t have/am not that,” but of “I should have/be [x], and it is fundamentally wrong that I do/am not.”)

- Flight: I have always wanted to fly, and for a long time I thought everyone ached for the sky the same way I did. Most people don’t, as it turns out. Yes, everyone’s fantasized about flying, but most people don’t feel bones-deep, crushing, physical pain in their chest thinking about it. Most people don’t lift up onto their toes instinctively straining for the sky. I’ve felt that aching longing for it for as long as I can remember.

- Connection to dragons: For as long as I can remember knowing about dragons, I loved the idea of them and even when I was very young, when I’d only really been exposed to media where they were the great evil for the hero to defeat and received no more character development than “evil, destructive, fire-breathing beast,” I was always on the dragon’s side and wanted to learn more about them. That hasn’t faded. I’ll watch an absolutely terrible movie or TV show that I otherwise loathe if it has good enough animation and sound design on the dragons. (Looking at you, Game of Thrones.*) I would commit arson to see one of those Isle-style dragon survival games actually go through and finish production. (Holding out hope for the Dragon Game Project on YouTube; go check them out if you haven’t already.) I’ve also used dragons to represent myself for pretty much as long as I’ve had an online presence - years before I ever heard of otherkin, I was calling myself Dragonheart.

- Dragon-like creatures: Snakes, crocodilians, and dinosaurs all fall into this category - all of them give me a similar heart-and-breathing-pick-up, aching familiarity to dragons. They’re not perfect, but in a snake’s scales and a crocodile’s bellows and a dinosaur’s spectacular reptilian size I see echoes of us and I have always loved them with a passion, even before I quite knew why.

- Dragon/”monster” noises: Sound generators, creature sound design, real animal noises, etc. that are meant to be monstrous and that most people find unsettling or even frightening, I find comforting and relaxing. Alligator bellows, “monster noise” soundscapes, etc. all apply here.

* No shade on anyone who likes Game of Thrones, I’m just not a fan. :P

Behaviors/Instincts/Urges

- Hoarding: I’m still not sure how much of the crystal thing is "monkey brain say Shiney Colorful," how much is a witch thing, and how much is a dragon thing, but some of it is a dragon thing.

- Territorial/possessive nature: I can get... extremely territorial over my stuff and my home. This can extend right into being ridiculously protective of my people too, although I do try to rein that in to a reasonable amount. This also extends into games like Capture the Flag, because put me on defending the border during middle and high school and I got frighteningly territorial. (Fun fact, this extends to spiritual protection stuff and it has almost gotten me in trouble a few times on that front.) The other main side effect is my brain trying to claim completely inappropriate things as “mine,” like every piano I have ever touched or, that one time, the entire city of Portland.

- Prey drive: Going on a walk in the woods with me will always be an exercise in stopping every twenty seconds because I heard a small animal move in the brush and froze instinctively to track it. Prey drive ranges from "okay I can indulge this enough to track-stalk-chase without actually intending to catch-kill-eat" to "this is entirely inappropriate and needs to Stop Right Now" depending on the day and the situation - sometimes it’s fairly low-key and innocent, but sometimes it's also being confronted with the sudden and completely serious/genuine thought of grabbing someone or something by the neck/around the body with your jaws and hunt-prey-kill-devour when it's completely inappropriate and kind of disturbing or even sickening. It’s one of the more annoying things, although it’s not like it’s severe enough that I’m an actual danger to anyone - it’s just a gut thought that gets filtered out at the conscious level without significant problems. This also bleeds into games (I get... maybe a little overenthusiastic during tag) and even watching TV shows or gaming videos - most of the time at least part of me is rooting for the hunter because I relate to them as a fellow predator, even if the audience is supposed to be rooting for the prey - I mean, protagonists.

- Basking/heat-seeking: Probably only partially a dragon thing, but despite the fact that I hate heat in general, radiant/sun heat and heat from a heated surface are both fantastic feelings provided the ambient air temperature isn't too high. I'm guessing this is at least partially a reptile brain thing.

- Height-seeking: Give me a chance to climb up on top of something - a rock, a cliff, a chair, a table, a bunk bed - and look out over everything else, and I'll take it in an instant. Getting to climb up on the roof is the best thing that's happened to me this entire quarantine.

- Flight instinct: Being mildly leery of cliffs not because I am afraid of falling, because I'm really not, but because there's always some part of my brain that goes "jump, fly, this is a perfect takeoff spot" and I have to squash that before I do something particularly stupid. This manifests in other ways, but that's the most dramatic (and annoying) one. This is also one of the things I noticed as definitively not normal long before my awakening. (The Grand Canyon was fun.)  Similarly to the prey drive thing, it's not like I'm actually in danger of throwing myself off cliffs, it’s just - there's a not-insignificant part of my brain that thinks "hey we should go run and jump off and take a quick flight," in the same way I might also casually think "hey I should stroll across to the corner store for a bag of chips" before I consciously decide whether or not to do that. It’s the exact same type of thought process, despite the fact that one of those things is something I might do on any given school day, and the other is, you know, physically impossible.

- Combat instincts: I get in a fight and my pure instinct is to bite or claw, not kick or punch or whatever it is humans do instinctively. I have those reflexes now courtesy of Krav, but I had to train them in - if you’d thrown me into a fight before, I absolutely would have resorted to claws/nails and teeth immediately (and I still will, when pressed into a corner). Sometimes, unfortunately, this goes off completely unwarranted, either in an anger situation that does not deserve a physical response, or for no apparent reason whatsoever. It's one of the more problematic things, but once again - it’s not like it’s a compulsion, just a gut-emotion thought that gets filtered out at the conscious level.

- Scent focus: Who knows how much of this is environmental influence and how much is instinctive, but I always have and still do focus on scent more than most humans seem to. I can identify people by scent, I seem to pay more attention to it than most people do. I also seem less bothered by natural body smells than most people do, but considering the responses when I asked around in the otherkin community once about that, unclear whether or not that's connected.

- Nonhuman noises: I make just a bunch of weird nonhuman noises, and always have. Growls, hisses, croons, hurrs, throat-clicks, chirps, etc. I've never met any human who does them instinctively like I do except my half-sister (whom I didn’t meet until a couple years ago), and she was just as surprised to hear me do it as I was surprised to hear her do it.

- Affection: Face-rubbing, light head-bonking against someone’s shoulder/body/head, and love nips/bites are all perfectly acceptable ways to show platonic affection, to dragon brain. Human society disagrees. The instinct to do these things is so strong that I definitely do give into the first two with people I’m close with, and I have physically had to catch and restrain myself when I was about to unthinkingly bite/nip someone’s skin because I wasn’t paying enough attention.

- Movement: Moving on all fours just feels better than moving on two legs, even though it’s objectively physically uncomfortable because humans aren’t built for that. I also have the instinctive want to be a lot more flexible than I’m capable of being, in ways I’m not capable of being - curling all the way around something or someone to squeeze them tight in the coil of my body, turning my head a hundred eighty degrees because my neck Should Be Longer.

- Expression: Baring one’s teeth when frustrated, irritated, or angry is not a particularly human instinct. I realize it’s something a lot of primates do do, but. *gestures at society* Humans ain’t one of them, at least not anymore. Even in Krav Maga, which is a self-defense style that focuses on being vicious and “dirty fighting” to survive a real street fight, every single time I have a new partner (and most times I have a partner I’ve worked with before) and I get tired enough to get snarly, they respond with some variation of “god that’s scary”. See also: gesturing at things with my nose because it should be long enough to make that a much more dramatic gesture than it ends up being.

- Den/lair/small spaces: I never feel safer than when curled up in a tiny alcove just big enough to comfortably fit my body curled up into it. The only position I’ll prioritize over it is getting up onto a high space.

Past Life Work

Unlike every other bullet point on this list, most of these didn’t apply until I started actively seeking them out, because, you know. Past life memories are like that.

- Past life regressions: I’ve got a tag for these, but tl;dr I take anything I learn from a past life regression or similar meditation/visualization with a whole spoonful of salt, forget “a grain,” because I know for a fact my brain is very good at making stuff up with these types of exercises. Unfortunately, they’re the only way to get information on certain things, like appearance.

- Tarot: Got a tag for that too. I use tarot to ask questions and confirm or reject suspicions.

- Spontaneous memories: I don’t have many, but they’re clear as day when they do appear. I don’t count something as a “true” memory unless it includes senses I can’t reproduce through imagination - smell and touch, mainly. Mostly these are quick flashbulbs, nothing cinematic or anything like that.

- Noemata: Again, I don’t have much in the way of noemata, but what I do have is persistent and consistent. I know things about my wing shape and flight style despite not having really experienced that in detail during past life regressions. That particular set of noemata has been confirmed to fit with real-world physics and bat wing shapes (the closest wing type to mine that exists or has existed on Earth).

[docholligay]

LIVESTREAM WINNERS AND TOP POINT COMMENTS

THose of you who read the schedule already know this but the winners are:

HOLLIGAY INVOKES THE SPIRIT OF CLOSET GHOST 

and

WE COOK FOR DINNER IN THE APOCALYPSE

Please join me for both! It’ should be a terrifying, thrilling time. 

AND NOW, THOSE OF YOU WHO MADE ME FEEL THE WARMEST. Thank you to all who answered--I know this was super self indulgent and it means a lot to me that you took the time. So, literally 12 out of the 13 of you got at least one point (One person did not give any details, or even a quote) MAZEL. 

Point allocations are below!!

One point winners: 

4(?)ish years ago, you sent Jet a series of letters/cards/funeral lilies, from different Sailor Moon characters. The lilies were for Mako. One card was from Michiru, after Haruka's death. I have never been able to find them again, but I just loved the care you put into them--how they were all written specifically from the character, the fact that you even put tear stains and perfume on the cards. It was just so creative and touching, and it felt like the characters were real for an instant, mourning and living and giving you a peek at their lives. --- @kumeko (That was A Little Letter, and Mako’s was actually a separate thing for the same contest!) 

   “Before you get yourselves killed I want to go on record as saying this is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.” Rei stood with her hands on her hips at the front of the garage- from that short story about Mina and Haruka strapping an engine to a shopping cart. You can really feel how rei must feel, the resigned exasperation mixed with genuine, but hidden, concern for Mina and haruka’s safety. I think i have said the exactsame thing before people i know do stupid shit. --- BeefSalad33  (oh ma, an oldie but, I think, a goodie) 

OH MAN. I am always thinking nonstop about that piece where Minako confronts Seiya about bullying Haruka, specifically for the line where Mina spits out "you think she'll love you for this?" and UGH that LINE. it HAUNTS me, I want to BITE DOWN ON IT AND NEVER LET GO, I WANT TO PUT IT EVERYWHERE EVER BECAUSE IT HURTS SO GOOD, AND I DON'T EVEN CARE ABOUT SEIYA. --- @wouldntyoulichentoknow (I’m so glad that I’ve managed to make both you and jetty grit your teeth and care about Seiya at some point ahahah) 

"*But flowers grow from death and decay, don’t they? That has always been true, you know that, Mako. You are a rose of perfect beauty, grown in the rich fertilizer of your loss.*

She threw the stress ball across the room, knocking over the cup on the sink, spilling the ice down the drain."

The contrast between reminding herself of how life works, and then still being bitter about it, and knowing what she is and being frustrated about it. It's a lot, when sorting out various issues- i have trauma, and that makes me better at empathizing with people, i'm adaptable long-term, and that means i can put up with some bullshit, that kind of thing, but that doesn't mean those are wholly good things. It's nice to see it put into words, and so plainly, and with such a strong reaction of it.

Roses can still grow wild, as pretentious as that sounds with how your passage resonates to me, but it's still nice to feel that. ---- @katrani (I’m so glad it resonates with you! I liked that line a lot! ) 

2 point answers:

Christmas Carol, Stave 1 - “You are a terrible person,” she jutted out her chin, feigning strength. “Fareeha deserved much better than you. But,” she took a deep breath. “I still hope she forgives you, someday. Someday, I hope you will deserve it.” It feels like cheating to use the most recent thing you’ve written, but nonetheless this section conveys so much about your take on Mercy, so quickly. She may be an idealist, the peacekeeper and builder, and she may want Pharah to have a relationship with her mother that’s not this disaster, but that doesn’t stop her from acknowledging that Ana’s been the primary factor in making it what it is and telling Ana that directly. I love how you write Mercy (and Tracer for that matter) as very warm characters who try to see the best in their situations but won’t gloss over the fact that sometimes, someone does have to be shot in the fucking face. “Good” doesn’t mean “hopelessly naive”, even with a pacifist, and I appreciate that you have characters who show that. 

Bonus, and a fringe case as technically part of the Fushigi Yuigi hateblog: “She was still trying to get home, had been unable to get Tamahome to let her poison him, and then Nakago had hugged her into his chest until she had been forced to flatten him with a punch to the nads. She was tired, she was hungry, and she was trying to have a moonlight bath to consider her options and wash the stink of a man off of her.

And then, Tamahome, again.” - Haruka-gets-dumped-into-Fushigi-Yuugi-as-Yui was a delight that entire episode, but this post was one of the best. Is it really just narrativizing your frustrations with the many, many writing choices that were made here? Absolutely. But it’s a fun little bit of comedic pacing here, especially with the utter exhaustion of Haruka that this bullshit isn’t over yet. (“Fuck my life” to the moon wondering if Usagi could help and regretting how hard it would be to drown herself are close runners-up on that front.) --- Regalli 

(Mercy is, in many ways, my attempt to write someone who is MOSTLY a pacifist that I can respect. It’s not easy for me! I often find pacifism to be cowardice, because so often in life the people I know who are pacifists are, well, not the folks in the street. So i thought, could you write someone who is very hesitant to kill, who believes that even Doomfist, even Reaper, even whoever, deserve care if they are hurt, who believes that a sword will not leave her hand free to uplift the fallen, and make her brave? And make her strong? And so was born, Mercy, who proved that, yeah that person, at least in my mind, can exist.) 

I think one of my favorite passages from your writing is from "The Rest is Commentary". Particularly the part that starts with "I am a doer. " That entire paragraph is wonderfully written, with mix of beautifully descriptive language to describe *why* you don't trust words. It's slightly paradoxical, but it also fits with the rest of the essay (?) so well. And even beyond that,  I love reading when you write about your faith. You are deeply devout woman, and a personal aspiration to me. When you write about your faith, it reminds me that there is work that needs to be done to live it, and not easy work either. But it is very much worth every bead of sweat, and every drop of blood. --- @shavedjudomonkey 

(Thank you so much! I love that people have connected so much with my Jewish writing) 

3 point answers: 

From Requiem for the Great Consummation, I adore the word play with "compose." Ie, in the line, "Michiru folded her hands in her lap and composed herself." Why? I'm a musician. So, Michiru, with her music, holds a special place in my heart. (Why Ami gets the music attacks is beyond me. WTF?)  I don't think the writers ever really understood what it takes to be a musician, and while fanfic writers often include Michiru's music, I've never really seen it done well. (I'm sure it has been. I just haven't seen it.) Music is all about structure. It has to feel free and soaring, but it can only be that because of the intense amounts of tension and structure underneath. A kite without a string plummets. When I reach for high, soaring notes, that's when I have to be most conscious of having a solid base. Making music Is constant tension. So, often when I see writers portray musicians, it's all "she never felt so free and untethered as when she sang/played the,violin/piano/whatever." And I think, "wow, really? She must have been Crap." So, back to compose/compose. This wordplay shows that tension. The "I have rehearsed this 5,000 times and am still working so hard I'm sweating standing still in this freezing auditorium so that it can look and sound completely free and easy." This is Michiru's entire life. She is composing herself. She is outlining complex rhythms and tensions and resolutions that even though you hear when the piece is played, you don't fully take in or understand, and all you consciously comprehend is 'wow, pretty.' Because that's how music works. Organs have keys that can't be heard by the human ear, and composers include them in their pieces. Why? We can't hear them! But we feel them. If you look at the score for an orchestral piece, it contains So. Many. Notes. So much going on. But when you listen, all you hear is that melodic theme. But if you take out anything underneath, things change and cam fall apart. Michiru lives her life like that. She creates herself, composes herself, and it looks elegant and free and easy, but it is so so very tightly controlled and rehearsed, and that particular wordplay showed off that side of Michiru's music, which is one I don't get to see explored much. --- @incorrecttact 

(Thank you so much for this!! I am NOT a musician, but so much of Michiru and music speaks to me, the structure of it, the discipline, the way it allows you to express yourself while hiding behind something else. And yes! I think of that double meaning so much!)

I want you to know... that this was very, very difficult. I made a notepad and collected shit I'd pulled out from your work where I could find comments where I did such, and then I AGONIZED. Here is where I landed but know it's so close with other things god. 

"Winston worked in earnest at his inventions, and Emily went back to teaching, and the two of them began to cook for each other again. Family dinners once a week resumed, grew with some of the new recruits that were being folded into their family. Pharah and Mercy’s daughter took them to the zoo, the park, out into the world. Dva had continued the game they had all been playing before Tracer died, their party picking up after the terrible and well-done loss of their beloved rogue. ***Life did not return, but it grew forward. It bloomed again.***" — A Clock's Fading Chime

I ended up choosing this one because I hate it a little when I read it. Not because it's not good but because it's SO PAINFUL. I love so much about the way you talk about love, and I think grief is all a part of that. We grieve because we loved. The idea of the grief period, especially for those in a close circle of a lost person, being like the cycle of the seasons where a flower may die but life blossoms in the soil it left behind is so evocative and perfect and everything leading up to that last line is the soil for which that line got to bloom. The slow, simple way life returns to them, that they adjust to the heavy rock in their pack (A piece of yours I revisited for this and a metaphor I will always carry with me) and start growing stronger together. And that they find it WITH EACH OTHER too just god, it kills me. But would I rather wish it wasn't necessary? YUP. FOR SURE. It hurts to think about someone who plays Lena's role dying in our own lives and trying to mend the rift between those left behind. But it brings all those possibilities and who may have gone already before to mind because it feels so grounded in the reality of what these experiences are like and shit it's just a great sampling of everything I love about your work. Beautiful prose, saying so much with so little, grounded in stuff that feels read, and ending on a banger, transfixing line. ---- @thoughtfulfangirling 

(Thank you so much! I LOVED that whole series of fics around that, as it is in the way that I often like to toy with the nature of grief, and the way that we go on. Things aren’t ever the same, but we go on. And I’m so glad you gt into it too! It’s very self-indulgent for me, basically everything with OW, so I love when other poepl like it) 

4 point answers: 

Given that I am not Jewish, I hope this isn't overstepping my bounds, but your passover Seder speech really spoke to me this year. Specifically the bits about the relationship between cowardice and metaphorical bondage: 

"This is a celebration of our freedom from bondage, but it is a also a reminder, a call that we must ensure we do not, in cowardice, return ourselves to bondage. "

Without explaining too much, and risking the kind of parasocial oversharing that you lamented the other day in a post, this particular push and pull has been at the forefront of my mind this year. The intense gravity that the familiar, the easy, the safe, can have, versus the genuine terror of pressing out into the unknown in search of something better.

Trying to change, and to do better, and to press on, is fucking terrifying, and hard. But, that is not an excuse. And I appreciated the reminder.   --- @blastoise-m 

(Not overstepping at all! I am so glad that it speaks to you, I really, really love this kind of writing, and I really should get back to doing more of my Jewish writing. My rabbi is leaving, because we apparently don’t have the money to have a rabbi! And he’s readying people to be lay leaders, and called on me to be someone who could give Divrei Torah (sort of like our sermons) because of my tendency to do stuff like this, and it’s very scary! But really exciting as that’s the kind of stuff that had me interested in being a rabbi, is picking this stuff apart and applying it to our own lives HI YOU ASKED FOR NONE OF THIS SORRY) 

"There are no beautiful deaths in this world, and am sorry that you must know it. Rei never was allowed to say goodbye. I watched Haruka grow weaker and more ill every single day. We each have been jealous of the other, at turns, but I tell you this truth now: Our lives mean much more than our deaths. You and Seiya had a wonderful love story, and you raised a wonderful daughter, and unfortunately it is very often difficult to finish a story in a satisfying sort of way. It is not the end of your story, simply of hers. For you, it is a new chapter"

I think this is still one of my top 5 fav fics that you've ever written. I still think of it randomly once in a while. It's such a small moment but it sold me Usagi and Seiya in a way never would have expected. It's such a moment of growth for both Usagi and Muchiru. A small moment of connection for two people who are so different.

This is wrapped up in the entire MaS series, which I could never separate from this work let alone this quote. The entire series is a series about love and all its many permutations. About finding meaning in a world when you think your meaning has been taken away. About carrying on when you think there's no reason to do so. And I think this quote really encapsulates all of that. 

This story, this entire series, is one the favorite things I've ever read and I'm so glad that you decided to share it. --- @madegeeky

(I truly and in all ways love how much you love this fic, it cheers em and makes me so happy every time I am reminded of it. And thank you for loving that line! I FEEL that line. It’s been true for every death that has come to me, so I love when it has meaning for others. ) 

The 5 point answer:

"God separated the sky and the sea, and that’s true, but there will always be the horizon where they blend."

I'm not much of a quote person. I'll often remember the feeling or the takeaway but rarely the words themselves. This, though, has stuck with me.

There is so much in this world, and so many people, who see everything as absolutes. Black and white. Good or bad. Right or wrong. And as I've grown and changed, that has come to bother me more and more.

This quote is such an elegant and accessible way to express how that oh-so-common point of view is a fallacy. And really it's just a lovely line that invokes both lovely imagery and feeling. ---- @seolh

I FORGOT I WROTE THIS, and like the completely arrogant piece of shit I am, when I read it was I was like, “Oh fuck, that’s a solid line.” And yes I am with you on getting older and relizing that the horizon line can be so fuzzy out there, sometimes, and this quote WEIRDLY came back to me when I needed it, a lot, and so thank you! 

[believerindaydreams]

Valentine fluff and stuff, Benny/Arcade <3 post the events of Raging Against the Machine

"Permission to court Arcade? My my, that's a trifle old fashioned, isn't it?" Daisy props the sniper rifle over her back, gives a little wave to Boone as they exit the dinosaur's mouth.

Benny shrugs. "He's welcome to ask my mother if he wants to...we're like that in the Boot Riders is all. Fucking is one thing, but where marriage is concerned you ask the matriarch."

"You could hardly consider me the matriarch of anything. And I didn't raise that boy to just take orders from anyone, especially one of...us."

"Orders about what?" Arcade's left off his coat in the Mojave heatwave, and his lover down to sharp black trousers and a blue shirt rolled up to the elbows makes him momentarily wish that Daisy wasn't here, or indeed the rest of the population of Novac.

Lover, heh. The thing he most regrets about all this is giving up that fond familiar term for a new and alien one.

"Anything," Daisy says mildly. "I won't spoil the surprise if Benny hasn't told you yet."

"...if he hadn't told you- uh, okay. I can wait." He throws Benny a confused look, gets a cheerful stonewall of a response.

Really, there's no need to inform Daisy that he let famously laidback Arcade Gannon be the one to propose first.

***

*one week earlier*

"I'm prescribing you a break. Medically."

"House had a point plugging himself into a mainframe," Benny growls, tossing yet another clipboard into the ever-growing stack besides him. "It would save a lot of trouble to do this all mentally- do you know how many pages of negotiations I'm dealing with for the sharecropper farms alone?"

"No, and that isn't the point. You need to stop acting like we're in perpetual crisis mode, the war's been over for a month-"

"The crises don't stop just because of a sudden outbreak of peace."

"You've got Swank. You've got a room full of clerks back there," Arcade says, gesturing. The Tops presidential suite is almost unrecognizable now from its earlier iteration as a swinger pad; there are charts on the walls, hurrying subordinates, and the bar has been cleared of liquor in favor of a shiny new terminal for Benny's private use. "You have responsibilities, yes, but you need to ease off at some point. Unless you actually want everyone to start thinking you're another Mr House in the making."

Not only has the thought occurred to him, now wasn't even for the first time today, but- you can hardly say that to Arcade.

"I couldn't relax here if I wanted to. Look at this mess. There isn't a place in New Vegas where I could go without having a lot of hangers on trying to get my attention, at least I can hear myself think in here."

"True. That's why I bought a house."

"The fuck- you what?" Squatting is one thing. Actually, literally, owning property, putting in for an official deed claim with the antiquated RobCo property machinery...not only is it an incredible pain, it's incredibly expensive. Even the Kings didn't bother with that, and the Old Mormon Fort is technically rented.

"Well. I had a few gold bars burning a hole in my pocket...and some free time, since the horrendous bloodbath of a New Vegas conquest singularly failed to happen."

"I thought you were donating that to the Followers."

"I thought it'd be good to use it for purposes that advance a Follower agenda. Such as insuring that our newly independent city-state has the opportunity to demonstrate it can exist without its interim dictator." Arcade leans over the bar, kisses his forehead in a gently, oddly chaste way.

It seems odd to Benny at first, until Arcade pulls back and he realises they have an audience. There is no way everyone from the back office needed a pencil all at the same time.

Well, if there's an audience he might as well live up to it. Benny flicks them a smile, adjusts the folds of his collar. "That's different. If you wanted to sweep me off my feet for a long dirty weekend, why didn't you start with the lead?"

He pulls Arcade close for a much more enthusiastic embrace, lips and tongues interlocked, until the doctor actually overbalances. For one terrifying moment he thinks he'll lose control, helplessly watch Arcade go falling headfirst into the wall or the floor or something equally painful.

It doesn't happen. He sustains the weight, until Arcade manages to pull back and stand up again, apparently unaware that anything could have happened. It's all right. They're all right.

"The things I'll do to advance a healthy socio-political agenda," his lover retorts, rather pink-faced, to general clapping and cheers.

***

Phoenix Point, the house is called; and Benny almost regrets it.

It's right across the street from an old tools factory, one of the places he'd resorted to while hunting up Lucky 38 access codes, heart in his mouth every minute. It hasn't been long before he'd known that Arcade's gambit with the Fiends had ended with his rescue by the courier; it had been considerably more worrying, that she had him than they. Fiends being killable.

Marilyn...he still has nightmares, justified ones.

The mistrust eases as Arcade opens the small barbed wire gate, though- it's pre-war security, with a physical and electrical lock. The outer door offers a hefty piece of metal plating, impenetrable to two centuries of decay.

This better not be like a vault. Arcade knows his opinion on those-

but then his lover unlocks the door and lets them inside, and it isn't like that at all.

Light, that's the first thing he notices. Real sunlight, glinting off the water in an open courtyard- a reservoir then, water to waste. That's an immediately soothing sight right there, unmitigated luxury for anyone raised to Mojave dust.

He makes for it immediately, tasting its sweet clarity- no rads, the Pip-Boy silence confirms that. In place of a Geiger counter he can hear Mr New Vegas, endlessly ruminating about love; and the faint whistle of a stewpot on the boil.

And his lover's quick breathing, behind him.

Benny turns, grins at Arcade's self-conscious pose; lying down but with an elbow propping up his chin, all that height shown off even horizontally as compared to the array of ferns and broc flowers behind him. "Is the rest of it this nice?"

"I certainly hope so. I went to more trouble than I needed to, perhaps- the Lucky 38 has been, uh, liberated of a number of books. Brought out some supplies for the workshop, that kind of thing...put together a wardrobe for you," Arcade says, looking very nearly pained. "Even articles that I do not have any comprehension why a sane person would wear."

Benny laughs, but can't sustain it; too much at once, too deeply meant to him. "I love it. I love it already, I love you."

"You haven't even seen it yet."

He draws his lover close, the scent of herbs and animal warmth and the brightening light of the Strip all melding together into one glorious sensation. "I will. Because..."

He doesn't know how to say how a home is holy to him, or how there's no one else in the world he would trust to shape it for him. Or how to say anything at all that means what he needs it to, when words are his worthless stock in trade.

"Because it's you," he says eventually; because that's honest.

Arcade laughs, strokes his hair. "Glad to hear it. Imagine trying to woo the Chairman of the Tops without a reasonably impressive dowry."

That rings false, he almost pulls away. "You don't need to buy me."

"I thought you appreciated that kind of ironic backchat."

"I do, but...not from you. Not with that sincere Followers face of yours." With that ready impatience for the truly immoral, the willingness to speak truth to power. "You're my moral center. Keep on keeping me honest, please."

Arcade favors him with a distinctly stunned expression. "Oddly, I'm rather in the habit of thinking that's what you are to me. You're braver than I am, as far as accepting the risk of failure to try to steer towards better outcomes. There are times when indecision itself can become paralysing."

The sunset isn't visible from behind the high fencing, but there's a rich blueness fading to purple above them. "In that case...carpe diem?"

"Seize the day?"

"Is that what it means? The impression I got was that it meant something more like 'jump my bones'. That'll teach me to listen to ex-Legion prostitutes."

"...you have a profoundly terrible sense of timing," Arcade murmurs, and rolls over on top of him.

"Uh."

"Carpe diem, then?"

Maybe his voice does fail him; but he kisses his way into a yes.

[dreaming-of-assclass]

Uncover

A/N: So this is officially my longest work on this blog...over 2K words. I’m happy with how it turned out. Also a lot of asks I’ve completed or am in the process of writing, I just can’t post until a few more days :’( I’ll post them all together very soon.

~~~

“Ah, we’re here. Thank you, sir!” After greeting her driver, Izuki Mina gracefully stepped out of her car. Her silky dark hair was tied up into a tight chignon and her kimono was an elegant shade of orchid. Her heels clacked loudly upon the pavement and she extended a hand towards one of her companions. “Come on.”

6-year old Nako grumbled under her breath, taking it anyways. She looked absolutely precious in her pink dress and space buns, which Mina had accomplished after two hours of fighting her. “Can’t we just turn around now?” She whined. “I wanna go home. This is gonna be so boring.”

Before Mina could respond, Rise replied, “Now, sweetie, that’s not the right attitude to have. Be respectful, we were invited to this wedding.” The older woman, Nako’s mother and Mina’s elder sister, gracefully followed them. 

Mina still had a hard time accepting whose wedding this was. She honestly believed hell would freeze over before Karasuma Tadaomi married someone.

But nope, it was real and happening that very moment. His soon-to-be-wife was also unbelievable. She was a foreign beauty, apparently his co-worker too? Mina knew very little details… it had been a couple years since she’d spoken to Tadaomi. Their families were friends and they saw each other often, eventually becoming good friends as well. Then Tadaomi left for military training...and simply disappeared. Next thing she knows, he was a part of the whole moon exploding business, became a teacher, and was now getting married? Mina couldn’t wrap her head around it all.

The wedding was a very traditional one...unsurprising considering the Karasuma family. The venue was a beautiful Japanese garden, greenery everywhere and the soft pink of the Sakura trees. A faint babbling was heard as water ran in the stream, and a bridge stood over it. Guests were everywhere, chatting casually as more people trickled in along with them. Mina looked a bit further and saw tables filled with appetizers and small snacks to serve as refreshments. She quietly whistled to herself. Damn, this is amazing. It probably was crazy expensive too.

There was a large group of teenagers hanging out in one area of the event, a mixed group of boys and girls. Mina instantly placed them as Karasuma’s former students, from that year he apparently spent as a teacher.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mina spotted Tadaomi, standing with his family. She walked a bit faster, ignoring Nako’s “Where are you going?” 

“Tadaomi!” She called with a smile.

He looked up instantly, surprise splashing across his face. “Ah, Mina,” he greeted with a small smile. “It’s good to see you.”

His dark hair had been styled and gelled back, leaving his handsome facials open. He was dressed in very nice, classy traditional attire. Mina tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling self-conscious for some reason. “You too! It’s been a long time.”

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering that sentence. “Yes, it has. How are you?”

Mina gave a light laugh. “How am I? How are you, Tadaomi? You’re about to get married! Holy shit!”

Tadaomi smiled amusedly. “I’m fine...just a bit eager to get through all this.” He glanced at everything, from the bridge overlooking the water to the bouquets that were everywhere. “It’s...so much.”

Mina sighed. He would always be the same: just his simple, straightforward self. “It’s your wedding, silly. It’s the one day of your life you can splurge and do everything, then go back to normal.”

She looked past him, searching. “By the way, where is the wifey?”

“Ah, she’s talking with our former students.”

Mina raised an eyebrow. Our? So they met on the teaching job...huh. She looked back at the cluster of teens, and lo and behold, the foreign beauty was there. She was gorgeous, with long light curly hair styled to perfection. Her eyes were a vivid blue and her makeup was perfectly applied. Mina couldn’t tell because of the elaborate bridal attire, but she was guessing the woman had a model-esque figure...she looked quite tall too.

How on earth had Tadaomi met this amazing woman?

“Karasuma!” A voice called, and Mina swiveled around to see two men in dark suits waving him over. Their greeting was casual but they had an air of professionalism surrounding them. Mina assumed they were his government co-workers or something.

Tadaomi saw them too and faintly grimaced. “Ah, I’m sorry, we’ll have to finish catching up sometime later today,” he apologized.

Mina shook her head, smiling. “No, it’s okay! I’ll be around...so whenever you wanna talk, it’s fine.”

He nodded and left to talk to his colleagues. Mina stood there for a moment before feeling a tug at her arm. “What-” Oh, it was just a very ire Nako, scowling. 

“Can we get food please?” She demanded. “Mom told me to ask you to go with me.”

“Where’s your mom?”

“Over there.” Nako gestured to her right, where Rize was talking to Tadaomi’s mother. Great. Mina would be stuck babysitting her very grumpy little niece.

“Okay, let’s go,” she sighed.

They made their way past the many guests and towards the tables lined with delicious-looking food. There were so many platters of colorful sushi...Mina had heard a guest mention in passing that it was because it was the bride’s (what was her name again...Ivanka?) favorite food. Mina glanced around, looking at all her options. Her stomach began to grumble in hunger.

Then she saw it. What in the world -

In the midst of all these elegant tables filled with dishes of tasty, delectable, presentable classy food...was a takoyaki street cart. It looked so incredibly out of place, Mina actually blinked. Once. Still there. Twice. Ok, nevermind, it was real.

“Oooh! I want takoyaki!” Nako exclaimed, already pulling Mina towards it.

“Hey, wait!”

They were at the end of a line now, in front of the cart. Mina could hear the guests in front of them murmuring about the oddity as well. “Wasn’t expecting this at all, but hey, I love takoyaki,” a young man said to the girl next to him.

“Yeah, same,” she replied in agreement.

Mina sighed, feeling her stomach grumble even more. All she wanted was to dig into the platters of sashimi on the fancy table, not wait in line for takoyaki of all things. She glanced down. At least Nako would stop complaining for a while.

“Oh, man, I can’t believe Okano started crying at that, of all things,” Mina heard from beside them, and a few of the teenagers from earlier were walking by them. There was a tall boy with dark hair, a shorter boy with orange hair that reminded her of mushrooms, a girl with straight purple hair, and the last girl was the shortest with dark curly hair. They were all dressed in appropriate formal attire.

“I know, right?” The purple girl laughed. “Ooh, let’s try the takoyaki from here!”

There was a short pause until the orange mushroom boy agreed. “Yeah!”

Now they were standing right behind Mina and Nako. She turned and politely smiled at them. Maybe they’d have an answer for this out-of-place food. “Hello!”

They jolted for a moment, before returning a bright grin. Well, the orange boy had a small, cute smile but the dark curly girl looked deadpan. “Hello!”

“Ah, you guys are Tadaomi’s old students, right?”

The tall boy smiled and nodded. “Yes, we are! I’m Sugino, and this is Fuwa, Mimura, and Hazama,” he listed them off, gesturing to each kid accordingly. Sugino definitely seemed like a chatterbox, a very friendly charming one too.

Fuwa rubbed her chin, giving Mina an odd look. “Hmm...you call Karasuma-sensei by his first name? How close are you?”

“Fuwa!” Mimura exclaimed in embarrassment. Fuwa struck Mina as someone who was usually unfiltered, judging by his reaction.

“You can’t just ask her that. It’s none of our business,” Hazama sighed, almost sounding apologetic.

“What? I’m just wondering...you guys are, too! Don’t deny it!” she protested. Yep, she definitely didn’t have a filter.

Mina laughed, slightly put off but more amused than anything. “It’s ok! No worries! I’m Mina, and this is my niece Nako. My family is friends with Tadaomi’s, we grew up together for a little bit when we were young,” she explained.

“Ooohh,” they chorused. “Nice to meet you both!” Mina laughed some more. Okay, that was kinda cute.

“Say, do you guys have any idea what this street cart is doing here?” she wondered, deciding to just go for it. She chuckled. “It’s just surprising to see since sushi from the finest place in Japan is sitting right over there.”

They all laughed. Sugino ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it is weird,” he agreed. “We were the ones who actually asked for it. Our class, I mean.”

Mina furrowed her brows. “Oh, really? Why?”

Fuwa smiled softly. “Our old teacher, he worked with Karasuma-sensei and Bi-” she paused, looking at Nako. “Jelavic-sensei. He, um, really liked...takoyaki.”

“Yeah, he loved octopi a lot,” Mimura chimed in. “One could say he was basically one himself.”

Mina was slightly lost now. “Like a spirit animal?”

Hazama shrugged. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Oh. Well, that’s cool.”

Hazama gave her a look. “It’s okay, it’s weird. We know.”

Mina wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Um, so tell me more about this teacher! He seems like an interesting guy.”

Sugino laughed. “Yeah, he was definitely interesting. He had a lot of weird habits. He loved junk food, for one. Always blew his teaching money on that.”

“He really liked po-” Mimura paused, glancing at Nako. “Um, magazines. He had a huge collection of them.”

“He used to fry tissues to eat sometimes, because he was so broke,” Fuwa added.

“That’s terrible!” Mina exclaimed.

Hazama waved her off. “Oh, don’t worry, he was okay.”

“He was obsessed with soap dramas,” Mimura continued. “Always used to try and ship us all together to try and emulate them.”

“Oh...that’s a bit odd,” Mina stated politely.

“Yeah, we hated it. We shot him with bb pellets whenever he was being too annoying.”

“Wow, that’s -”

“It’s fine! He encouraged it all the time!”

Fuwa sighed. “Even with all those irritating quirks, he was still the best teacher ever.” The atmosphere had shifted into a more somber, nostalgic one as all the kids looked down slightly.

Sugino nodded. “He always cared about us and looked out for our wellbeing all the time.”

“He was great at explaining concepts, and we even made personalized practice tests for every student,” Mimura added.

Hazama averted her gaze. “He made all of us feel welcome and like we belonged in that class,” she said softly. “Like we were all a piece of one big puzzle, meant to be there from the start.”

“He built a pool for us,” Fuwa sighed again.

Mina blinked. “Wow, he sounds like an amazing person!” She glanced around her. “Is he here? I’d love to meet him!”

The kids stiffened, and she instantly regretted her question. Stupid Mina! Obviously, something happened or they wouldn’t sound so sad! But she’d been distracted by all that they were saying, she’d forgotten.

She took a breath. “I’m sor-”

“No, he’s not here,” Sugino finally spoke. “He...passed away at the end of the year.”

Mina felt her stomach lurch. “I’m so sorry…”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Fuwa replied, shaking her head. “It’s okay.”

Mimura laughed slightly. “You know he would’ve freaking loved it if he were here.”

The other two laughed while Hazama smirked. “He’d be a bawling mess. Probably would badger those two constantly until he got kicked out.”

“He’d insist on personally handling Karasuma-sensei’s hair and styling,” Sugino continued. “But he’d go overboard and mess it up.”

“Seventy-percent of the food would already be devoured,” Fuwa added with a grin.

Hazama raised an eyebrow. “Only seventy-percent? That’s being generous,” she commented dryly, amusement in her tone.

“True!” They burst out laughing again. Mina smiled, relieved to see that they moved on from her little mishap and weren’t sad anymore.

“Oh, Ms Mina, it’s your turn,” Sugino pointed out, and she turned around to see the vendor waving at her.

“Oops, sorry!” She smiled at them once more before turning to place her order. Hard to believe that the answer to why this takoyaki cart was here was all thanks to an old teacher with odd quirks who liked octopi...and guided a lot of bright, good kids. She definitely would continue that conversation with those four and hopefully get to meet more of Tadaomi’s students.

[currentfandomkick]

Marinette’s Villainy Lessons with her Uncles, Victor Zsasz, Jerimah, Riddler and Ed

Reminder, the rouges know her as Jillian Strange and are aware her cover in Gotham is Jillian Smith in public.

Most people would think a hitman and casual murder would make a horrible, horribly godfather. At least for morals. 

Well, her father is Strange so he’s not most people. Her Maman had to have dated him or something so she probably isn’t normal either, Marinette would think as lessons began.

“Okay, now today we’re going to review how to take down  someone bigger than you. What do you do first?”

Marinette hummed. “Check what’s on them and around them. Look for weapons and weak points while keeping distance.”

Uncle Victor smiled. “Good job Jill!”

Marinette beamed at that. “Second step?”

“disarm them.”

“Good, now next thing?”

“Exploit wekanesses. Use weapons if possible.”

“In the kitchen, no knives open. but there’s a spork.”

“Spork?”

“Don’t question it. what do you do?”

“aim for the eye?”

“Good! popped out eyes are very distracting. Now, after that’s done, what do we do?”

“Run away and call the family.”

“And why not the police?”

“Batman will know. And he and the police will take me away.”

“And do we want that?”

“NEVER!”

“That’s my Jilly bean. Now, self defense in theory you have down. and you kept up with punch practice, right?”

“And kicks and the bendy-training.”

“Flexibility. You already have strength down, so we can focus on lean muscle like gymnasts and acrobats for you.”

“If i become an acrobat does that mean i have to be nice to batman?”

Zsasz shook his head. “Just because bat is in it, doesn’t make it his.”

“He calls his boomerangs batarangs. I’m not taking chances.”

--

“Now, its all in the wrist, Bend it back, like that, when the target is close.” Jerome hovered over Marinette, watching her form closely.

“I need to do this to take out the bad guys right?”

“If a bat goes after you when you’re with one of us, hit them hard.” He wouldn’t have Strange and whoever Jill’s Maman was after any of them for losing her mid-lesson to a zealous Batman or Robin. 

“Knees are better targets right?”

“Since you’re not allowed to kill, yes.” Jerome still didn’t get that rule, but whatever. His niece followed her Maman’s rules most of the time, and was adamant about that one. it made lessons more difficult, but they worked around it.

“Maman said something about it staining the soul,” the girl threw the knife, just missing the target.

“Eh, mine’s fine.” He didn’t regret any of it, something about him being incapable of remorse. 

“They were bad people right?”

“Of course, i don’t hurt actually good people--they make it so things don’t happen in the first place.” After all, letting things happen was bad too, and worse as far as Jerome was concerned. He still remembered everything his family did and how no one said anything about what was done to him. Silence and acceptance was far worse than doing in his books.

“Like Uncle Victor?” Marinette was still fuzzy on good and bad and the in betweens. her Father said its because binaries can’t contain her understanding so she needs another frame of reference or something.

“Like Uncle Victor,” Jerome agreed, watching Marinette closely as she sunk the next knife into the cereal box. “Now, i think we’ve done enough with weapons for now. Want to practice trapeze tricks?”

“But Aunt Harley isn’t here.”

“Safety nets are there for a reason.”

Marinette considered it for one second. Then bolted up the post and threw each trapeze into one another., making them swing for a challenge “I can’t fly for a few hours!”

“Good! Sooner you get used to falling, the less scary it is, trust me!”

“Okay!” Marinette grinned as she got a running start. She loved lessons like this.

--

Uncle Riddler decided today was a software programming day. And a cyber-crime day, she guessed. But those are always boring--she practices these with Hero Stalker and sometimes Max in Paris anyways.

“See, this is how you beat their firewalls, a simple virus that looks like a normal email. when it’s opened then we have access to the servers and get the information we want, okay?” Riddler was trying to be more clear with her today. Ed was probably trying to keep control.

“How long does it take?”

“Varies.”

“Can we get icecream while we wait?”

Riddler almost sighed. almost.

“Why?”

“Why not? We can’t build anything without the base and Father said no more autopsies in the kitchen.”

“It wasn’t even a human, just a bird. but nooo, that’s traumatizing and damaging to your mind.”

“But it was cool!”

“I know, i know. Bodies are just bigger puzzles... Hm, what’s broken when spoken Jilly bean?”

“The ice cream machine at McDonalds. And Silence, but that one’s an easy answer... OH! hero’s name is a honophone with crazy!”

“Batman.”

“Yep! Did he find the new base yet?”

“Nah, Dent got him off the trail last with another robbing spree.”

“Oh, is it going to Mr. Freeze for his research or bills or the RKC?”

“I... am pretty sure Rose stole it so your group won this time.”

“Yes!” Marinette fist pumped. “I told them operation bouncy ball would work!”

“....I. is that why they were everywhere.”

Marinette grinned back. “Just like you all keep saying, misdirection is the key to getting what you want when dealing with someone with more.”

Riddler grinned, the one that spelled doom for everyone else. “Our little jilly bean is already pulling off jobs on her own! I’m so proud!”

there was shift on his face, his stance altered and he was more... Uncle Ed than Uncle Riddler. “Jill, we talked about this. You need to be at least thirteen before you start plotting on your own.”

“I had co-conspirators of age so i didn’t break that rule!”

Uncle Ed was in control now. “I curse the day Dent taught you about malicious compliance and loopholes.”

“No you don’t. You’re just mad i used it against Dent and you missed him  tripping on everything. Don’t worry, Ghoul had cameras and made a montage.”

 Uncle Ed’s lip twitched. “Really?”

“Ice cream and we watch.” Mairinette knew her horrible stealth uncle had to be good at something. business things.

“Oswald is a terrible influence on you.”

why wasn’t this working? Wait, this is Riddler... “Ice cream please?”

“... fine. but no sparkly sprinkles.”

“But those are the best kind!”

“Jillian Strange,” Uncle Ed warned. “We do not leave evidence at the scene of a crime. Your favorite sprinkles leave evidence everywhere. Do you want to answer to your father about spoiling dinner again?”

“.... No. But after?”

“I want to know who gave you a metabolism like this, but sure. No telling Strange.”

“Okay!” Marinette ran off to the kitchen, returning with a large bowl for herself--half the gallon Ed noted--and a more normal serving for himself. “Here! and this is the video,” Marinette pulled out her ipad and played a few minutes of Dent tripping over various bouncy balls swarming his base.

“You really are a baby mastermind,” Uncle Riddler cooed. “Remind me to set you up with Puzzles later.” 

“Huh?” Marinette looked up from her empty bowl. 

“Nothing,” Ed said, almost glaring. 

“Oh, are you two fighting again? I’ll clean up until its over. Then we can work on the reality augmentation glasses, right?” Marinette asked with her infamous kitten eyes.

“Of course, I think you’ll like the new coding patterns we’ve been working on..”

--

Hope you enjoyed a slice of Marinette Strange Dupain Cheng’s Gotham life. 

Bonus:

“Jill, why are we missing a gallon of ice cream?”

“Uncle Ed took it.”

“...Please tell me it wasn’t for another biology lesson.”

Marinette thought for a moment. She is bad at lying. but letting her Father come to his own conclusions isn’t lying, right?

“I have to remind him that biology lessons are for his base again then, wonderful. I will bleach the counters. Put on  something while i do.”

“Breaking News,Poison Ivy’s Plants are out of control again.”

“Rose ran away again!” Marinette yellled.

Strange took a deep breath. “Get her room ready, I’ll call Harley.”

Marinette nodded, wandering off to find Ghoul and Frost in the ‘extra room’ already. “So who’s turn is it to tell Aunt Ivy to stop?”

“You’re here the least.”

Marinette groaned. “Do i get a disguise?”

“Green wig, colored contacts, and some baggy clothes i can feel you trying to burn.” 

“If i had heat vision it wouldn’t be trying.”

a few minutes later, the boys worked on fixing up the room while Marinette walked through the plant infested section of Gotham. The vines moved away from her, cuasing the few semi-conscious to stare at her. 

“Aunt Ivy! She’s on her way to my place, ok!”

Poison Ivy dropped to Marinette’s level, appearing from a bunch of vines. “Why didn’t she tell me!”

“You do this but at home when she does.”

“She knows better!”

“She’s six. She really doesn’t. Did you feed the flowers human blood again?”

“They were already dead, and they weren’t even half decent poeple. just abusers and pedos this time.”

“Did you tell her or...”

“They’re my children, why do i need to tell my non-plant daughter what her sibblings are eating?”

“So she doesn’t think you’re murdering for fun.”

“Oh right, that..”

--

Marinette casually curbing the rogues while learning how to villian and applying skills in the opposite direction will be a trend in the au. And they support her 100% when she does this as that’s their girl, theirs!

they tolerate whoever she adds though. eventually. 

[creationcitystreet-em]

His Southern Belle 1

Masterlist Full book 1 summary in the link

Chapter 1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC (face claim: Rose Leslie)

Word count: ~2450

Summary: Maddi starts her new school in Brooklyn and meets some new friends.

Warnings: none

Author’s Note: I started this fic when I was still in high school, and I have worked really hard on it since. I’m not a fan of some of my writing from earlier chapters, but I don’t want to change them until I at least finish writing the entire story. I will be updating this fic here on tumblr one chapter a day until I am caught up with where I am at on the other platforms I’ve posted it. If you’d like to read ahead of that schedule, you can check them out on from the links on my masterlist. I just also wanted to make the fic available here on tumblr with the rest of my fandom interactions, so this is the plan to do that!

Unless otherwise indicated, all date entries are from Maddi’s POV.

September 5, 1932

I stood in front of the small class while my new teacher introduced me. I was in my best knee length dress trying to make the best first impression but I quickly realized the style in my hometown was very different from that of teenagers in New York. The girls seemed to have a little more money than my family as they wore nicer clothes and styled their hair to the newest fashion. My long red curls were probably a little too messy and I didn't wear the same socks and shoes as the them. I tried not to show how uncomfortable I felt when our teacher asked me to say my name to the class. I smiled and said "My name is Madeline Bennett, but my Mama and Daddy called me Maddi." I immediately heard laughter from the students and it made me feel twice as self conscious. It must be my accent, people in Brooklyn definitely sounded different than those in Tennessee. As soon as the teacher let me sit, I chose the only empty seat next to small and skinny boy with blond hair. He smiled at me but it was not cruel like the other kids when I walked to my seat, so I gave a small smile back.

During lunch, I sat alone until I heard the sound of a boy talking in front of me, "hey new girl, you know I can show you around if you want. I know some great places we can sneak off to together." I politely declined as I could tell his intentions did not seem innocent. He continued to push "Come on, look I know a lot of people laughed at you in class, but I can keep you safe baby doll. Once you're with me, nobody will be laughing." I immediately looked back down at my food trying to ignore the group of boys as they snickered behind the nameless boy who talked to me. I could tell this was probably a trick considering they were clearly still mocking me like before, and I just wanted to be left alone. I tried to hold back tears as I thought about how much I wished I could go back home with my family. I didn't want to be in Brooklyn hundreds of miles away from the only home I ever knew. I didn't want make new friends or learn how to live with a new family I barely knew. I wanted my safe little town where everyone knew who I was and nobody would dare pick on me unless they wanted my brother going after them. I missed my brother more than I ever would have admitted to him.

Just then, two more boys came to my table and I thought it would only get worse. "Leave her alone Jason, she clearly doesn't want to talk to you right now," the smaller of the two said. I now recognized him as the boy I sat next to in class.

"Alright Rogers, what are you going to do to stop me?" It was a fair questions, the boy was half a foot smaller than Jason and clearly much skinnier than the already developing teen.

"Listen Gally, I know you can see me standing right next to Steve here so you clearly should know when to keep your mouth shut. Now the lady said no earlier so I think you should respect her wishes and take your friends and leave." Jason Gally stared at the taller boy, who looked more like a man, and finally decided to leave. I continued to remain frozen in place after everything that happened, until I saw the two that helped me start to walk away as well.

"Wait!" I called to them as I wanted to tell them I appreciated what they did. They turned around and looked at me and I gathered up all the courage I had left to keep talking despite knowing they will clearly hear my accent. "Thank you for that. I got your name, Steve, but I didn't really catch yours," I said to the taller one.

"James Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky."

"Well Bucky, Steve, thank you again."

"It was no problem, Maddi right?" Steve questioned to make sure he remembered my name correctly. I was pleasantly surprised and nodded my head yes.

I took a leap of faith and suddenly asked, "would y'all like to sit with me?" They stared at me for a second and I tried to explain myself quickly, "It's just that I'm new and don't have any friends yet. You two were so kind to stand up for me and I just wanted to know if maybe you would want to sit with me." I prayed I didn't just scare the two nice people in front of me off, but then they looked at each other and sat down across the table from me. I started to smile as they began to ask me about where I was from and why I moved to Brooklyn. "I'm from Tennessee, and I moved here to live with my Aunt and Uncle. They're the only family I really have left." they stayed quiet knowing I didn't want to go too deep into that subject just yet. The two nodded and didn't push anymore about it. I was very grateful for that.

It was towards the end of lunch and Steve said "Well Maddi, I'm glad we met you. Bucky is a year older than us but we still hang out after school. Where do you live, maybe we can walk home together?" I told them the general area I moved to and they both eagerly said they lived near there. We made plans to meet after school and for a brief second I thought that maybe moving to the big city wouldn't have been as terrible as I initially thought. I wished I could be back home, but knowing that I would never get to go back, having a couple friendly people here was the best I could ask for.

September 24, 1932

“How has school been going, Maddi?” Aunt Lily asked as I ate dinner with her and Uncle Ryan.

“Alright. I made a couple friends, but I don’t really seem to fit in with the class. They dress and talk different than back home.” I played with my food a bit while I thought about how the last couple weeks have been. Steve and Bucky were definitely very nice to call friends and I liked spending time with them, but girls still gave me strange looks and boys would bother me if I wasn’t with my new companions.

“Well, our neighbors have a granddaughter on the other side of town about a year or two older than you. I’ll see if she has any extra dresses you can have,” Aunt Lily offered. I knew she and Uncle Ryan felt bad for not having enough money to spend on me, but I really didn’t mind. With their two children already grown and moved across the country, they didn’t exactly plan to pay for an extra mouth to feed. Times were hard enough as it was without unexpected expenses. I never actually met these family members before: we never had the money to travel, but I heard about them a lot.

September 30, 1932

I wore my new dress that seemed to match more with the girls at school and it made me feel a little less nervous, but I also felt sad to be giving up more and more from my life in Tennessee. I sat with Steve and Bucky at lunch like I did everyday, and we talked about frivolous things until I asked Steve what was in the book he always carried around.

“It’s a sketch pad, I like to draw,” he said shyly.

“Can I see?” I asked and he hesitantly handed me his sketch pad and I flipped through the pages in awe. Each piece of paper had beautifully drawn pictures of buildings and landscapes. He had a few with people, but one close up of a young woman and man who looked in their early 20s. “Who are they?” I curiously questioned.

“That’s my parents,” he said quietly. “It’s from a picture when they were newly married. I don’t really remember my dad, he died in the Great War.”

“I’m sorry,” I said hoping I didn’t make him feel sad as I knew how it felt to lose a parent. “I lost my ma when I was young too, not as young but still I was 5 when she got sick.”

“Is that why you moved?” Bucky asked me.

“No, I still lived with my daddy and brother, Alex, until this summer when a storm hit and they both died. I was with a friend when it hit and a tornado took down my entire house and my family inside.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry Maddi,” Steve said as I fought back a few tears thinking about what happened.

“Don’t worry about it. I was lucky to have Aunt Lily and Uncle Ryan to take me when they heard, and now I got to meet you two so that’s good I guess.” I tried to look towards the better things in situations but it was always hard.

“Well, you’re officially our friend so there’s no getting out of it now,” Bucky said with a smirk.

“Only now it’s official? What has been the last month then?” I asked with a laugh.

“A trial friendship,” Steve stated smiling.

“Yeah, just to make sure you weren’t crazy or anything” said Bucky.

“I’m glad y’all think I’m worthy of being your friend then!” I winked at them as I continued the joke. We all laughed as we finished our food and headed back to class for the day.

December 24, 1932

“The snow is so beautiful on Christmas,” I sighed as I walked through the park with Steve and Bucky like we sometimes did together.

“It sure is, but I’ve always wanted to see snow where there were no buildings in sight. Just miles of it with nothing else to mess the blanket of white up,” Steve told me as we saw children running through the already played in snow.

“That is a sight to see, but I think that's just wasted? Look at how happy all this available snow makes everyone, that’s something worth drawing.” I said this as I knew that was one of the reasons he probably liked the idea of untouched snow: to be able to draw the scene. “Draw me and Bucky!”

“What?” Bucky questioned, not sure what he had to do with this topic.

“Draw us playing in the snow,”  I requested with a smile. Bucky quickly got the idea and ran towards a clean pile. He made a snowball and threw it directly at me hitting me on the shoulder. “Alright Barnes, you have it coming to you now!” and I laughed while I ran to make a snowball as well except I missed when throwing it at him. He laughed at me until I made another and hit him square in the face. I heard a chuckle from Steve and I looked over at him sitting on a nearby bench watching us and making small rough sketches in his book. “Come one Steve, put it to memory and come play with us!” He looked slightly surprised for a second until he put his book down and came over to join our snowball fight. We did this for about an hour until we sat down on the bench to rest. Steve quickly went right back to his book to continue his scene he started on. We sat in silence for a while just taking in the day.

“What are your holiday plans, Maddi?” Bucky asked.

“I’m not sure. We haven’t really talked about it. We’ll probably go to Mass tonight and I got a small present for my aunt and uncle tomorrow. I don’t really expect much of a present for myself; besides, my favorite part has always been Christmas Eve Mass. My daddy and Alex and I would go and then always visit mama after. I guess I can’t see any of them this year since their all buried in Tennessee.” I had never really thought of that until now and it quickly took away all of my joy from playing in the snow before. “They would have liked you guys,” I added before they could reply. “You're both gentlemen and passionate about what you care for.”

“They’d like Bucky,” Steve tried to clarify as he continued to draw.

“No, they’d like you both,” I told him with confidence. “Especially you, your heart is much more kind than this silly guy sitting next to me,” I laughed as I sat between them and gestured towards Bucky.

“Hey!” Bucky said with a smile. “Just because it's true doesn't mean you have to say it!” Steve just stayed quiet and had a slight blush on his face.

I put my arms around both their necks and said “thank you for making Brooklyn more bearable.”

“You did that,” Steve said as he looked at me and I smiled back at him.

December 25, 1932

There was a knock on the door and I went to answer it. When I opened the door, Steve stood there waiting and I gave him a surprised smile. “Hey,” he started. “I know today is mostly spending with family so I’ll try to be quick. I just wanted to give you your present.”

“Steve, you didn’t have to get me anything!” I began to feel bad as I had nothing to give in return.

“It’s nothing, here.” He handed me a piece of paper and I saw it was a beautiful drawing of Bucky and I in the snow from the previous day. I just stared at it for a few seconds in awe before he continued, “Sorry it isn’t that detailed, I was trying to finish as quick as I could and the shading might not be-” I cut him off by hugging him.

“I love it!” I said as he wrapped his arms back around me. “I love the art you make, it’s so good. Thank you for giving me one, it really means a lot.” We both let go and and he was redder than I had ever seen him before.

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a chuckle. We then said our goodbyes and he went back home to spend the rest of the day with his mother.

Next Chapter

[howtodisassembleyourdeviant]

Flu Season

Here it is! Inspired by another prompt for Cute Girls and Hot Androids. This one features ConnorxReaderxSixty! I've written about them a few times on my Ao3 account (this one would only be the second one that ISN'T nsfw.) I like sadistic Sixty, but with my dom personality, I just adore softboi Sixty. Anyway, I don't think it's really necessary to read the others, though I guess if you want more of a background into Sixty's issues, I could post the non-nsfw one here if anybody wants.

Warning: description of sickness I guess.

You weren't even awake when Sixty noticed your body was warmer than usual. Sitting up, he carefully nudged Connor, trying not to wake you.

'Connor, I think somethings wrong with Y/n. She's warmer than usual.'

Connor tried not to rouse you, but with your arm and leg over him, he couldn't help but jostle you slightly in his bid to get a better look at you. You started to curl into yourself, a sad whine leaving your throat. His scans showed your temperature was higher than it should be, and your cheeks were flushed.

"Heart, Are you alright?" Connor murmured against your ear, earning another pitiful whine. You didn't answer. Instead, you clambered out from between your two lovers, your steps unsteady as you made your way to the bathroom.

Connor and Sixty looked to each other before both climbed out of bed. They moved to stand outside the bathroom door, but neither knew how to proceed.

"Y/n?" Sixty called hesitantly. Only a moment later, they could hear you getting violently sick. "Y/n!" Sixty tried the door handle, but it was locked. You never lock the door. "Y/n, open the door!" Your only reply was more of that horrendous retching. Just as Connor moved to break open the door, the two could hear the sound of the toilet flushing, along with the sound of you sniffling.

The door opened, and you looked positively miserable. Your face was completely flushed, with tears streaking down your cheeks. You kept gulping, fighting off another round of vomiting. Your eyes were glazed, as if you were out of it.

"I don't feel good." Your voice was so small, almost childlike.

Connor pulled you close, and you practically fell against him. Your temperature had spiked during your episode, sitting too high for comfort. He stood there, holding you, unsure what to do.

"Have you ever dealt with her being sick before?" Sixty asked. During his time in the trios unconventional relationship, you had never fallen ill before. With Sixty's damaged systems, you and Connor had helped him more times than he was comfortable with, but he has never known you to be sick. Apparently, neither has Connor, shaking his head.

"I've only known her to be sick once before, when she called out from work for a few days. She kept assuring me that she was fine, but she wanted to be left alone, so I didn't help." Even though he really wanted to. He wasn't even in a romantic relationship with you at the time, but all his thoughts were on you, worrying about your welfare. Hank could hardly get his attention for five minutes during those three days, both at work and at home. It wasn't until you returned to the office on the forth day, a little pale but otherwise alright, that he could relax.

Now he stood, in the middle of the night, more bracing you up than holding you, without a single idea of what to do.

"Do you want to go back to bed?" Sixty leaned forward, speaking softly to you. After a moment, you hummed a negative. Your head was swimming and you were certain that this was only the first round of bathroom trips, with many to come. By the time you get comfortable in bed, you would just have to jump up again.

"How about the couch?" Connor suggested. It was closer, and if you couldn't make it, there was a trash bin tucked in one of the cabinets against the arms. You hummed again, though he wasn't certain if it was actually a positive. Since it was different from the first hum, he assumed so, leading you to the couch. You kept tripping over your own feet, and all he wanted in that moment was to carry you, but the jostling might agitate your stomach. He finally was able to sit you down, but right then, you jumped back up, heading to the bathroom and shutting the door quickly.

"I believe she might have gastroenteritis, or rather, the stomach flu." Sixty moved towards his predecessor, showing a web page on his palm. It matched your symptoms. He could do a blood analysis to be sure, but it seemed extreme to prick your finger when you already felt so terrible. It made sense. Many people at the department were coming down with it. It was making Hank even less sociable than he already is.

"What are the treatment plans?" Sixty scrolled down.

"Keep her hydrated is the most important. It says to use something with electrolytes to replenish the salts she's losing as well. Over the counter medications can be effective with her fever and some of her symptoms if she can keep them down. Light, easy to digest meals. Cold compresses to lower her temperature. Keep sounds, smells, and lights to a minimum to avoid agitating her symptoms. If she doesn't improve, we might have to take her to the hospital." Connor made a shopping list and mapped out the fastest route to a store that would have all he needs and be open at 3:47 am.

"Alright, I'll go get supplies. Do you think you'll be alright?" Connor asked.

"Yes, I think I can handle it." Connor smiled, giving Sixty a quick peck on the lips, promising to be back as quickly as possible.

With Connor gone, Sixty sat outside of the bathroom, listening to the horrible sounds you were making, each one made him consider breaking the door down. Why did you keep locking it? The toilet would flush a few moments later. He can hear you crying, tearing him apart. He hates that he can't help, that you won't let him help.

After a while, it occurred to him that you had stopped making those sounds, and the toilet hadn't flushed.

"Y/n? Are you alright?" He knew it was a dumb question, of course you weren't.

"Sixty?" You never stopped amazing him when you were able to tell the difference between him and Connor. Their voice was almost the same, but you claimed Sixty's had a different inflection to it. It must be true, as the only time you got their names backwards is when you're rambling, and when you realize it, you were quick to correct it.

"Yes?"

"Could... Could you... grab me a new shirt?" You sounded ashamed, meek compared to your usual upbeat voice. He rushed to grab you a clean, comfortable shirt. Returning to the bathroom, he was pleased to find it unlocked. When he opened the door, you were sitting on the floor by the toilet, resting against it. Your pajama top was missing, tossed to the side, a mess on the front of it. He gave you the shirt, but it wasn't long until he understood that you would be unable to put it on yourself. You just felt too weak. He carefully helped you put it on.

"Usually, I'm taking your clothes off. It's nice to switch it up." He joked, earning a small laugh and a wry smile. "Do you want to try laying down again?"

"Not yet, " you whimpered, returning to laying across the toilet seat. Sixty rubbed your back in a soothing motion. Noticing your hair, he grabbed a hair-tie from the sink and loosely tied it back.

"Thanks."

"Of course."

"Where's Con?" You made a strange sound, scrunching your face up in revulsion.

"He went to buy medicine and supplies. He'll be back soon." You hummed, though it turned into a whine when you felt your stomach churn again.

"You don't need to stay," You mumbled, "I'm pretty gross right now."

It hit Sixty. That's why you've been locking the door. You're self-conscious about your illness.

"You're not gross, you're sick. You're still perfect to me."

"You might think otherwise in about five seconds."

"Not likely. I can't think of anything you could do that would make me, or Connor for that matter, think otherwise." In that moment, you lurched forward, expelling your stomach contents into the toilet. It was even more violent than it sounded, your torso rigid, knuckles white from how hard you were gripping the seat. You coughed and gagged, trying to catch your breath. He had experienced system purges himself, finding them to be extremely unpleasant, but this looked downright painful. He continued to rub your back, wishing for Connor to hurry home.

......

Meanwhile, Connor was standing in front of the medical supplies, completely lost. There were so many different variations of medications, each seeming to treat a wide variety of symptoms. They came in capsules, tablets, liquids... Which one was best? He hasn't been this confused since you sent him to buy pads for the first time. He picked up two different medicines, reading what they alleviated. In his rush to leave the house, he didn't really pay close attention to your specific ailment. You weren't coughing when he left, but you just woke up, so it might have manifested in his absence. Sixty might know.

.......

'Sixty, is Y/n congested?'

At home, Sixty was draping a blanket over your form, still in the bathroom. Despite your fever, you were shivering uncontrollably. Sixty considered the question. You sounded congested, but he wasn't certain if it was from the flu or you crying.

"Y/n, can you describe your symptoms?"

You spat, flushing the toilet, absolutely disgusted with yourself.

"Other... Than the... Obvious... My head hurts... Stomach hurts... Everything hurts... I just... I don't know... I just feel like shit, " you huffed out. You rested your burning forehead against the seat, the cool plastic felt nice, but in no time at all, it was warm and uncomfortable.

'She says everything hurts and she has a headache. Please hurry.' Seeing you so miserable when he could do so little to help made him feel awful.

"Are... Are you messaging Connor? Ahh-Ask him if... If he could pick up crackers and ginger ale."

'She wants crackers and ginger ale.'

'Got it.'

......

Connor grabbed a couple of different ones, deciding that they will figure it out when he gets home. Pulling up the web page, he made a list of what else he would need. Broth, sports drink, cold compress, heating pad; along with your requested items. He swiftly checked out and headed home.

.......

"Are you ready?" Sixty draped your arm over his shoulder.

"Yeah, slowly." Carefully, he hauled you to your feet. He would have rather carried you, but you worried the motion would upset your stomach again. Gradually, he walked you to the couch. He had set up several pillows and another blanket for you, leaving the other one on the bathroom counter for later, pulling it over you as you laid down.

"Do you want anything?"

"Water please." Sixty nodded, moving quickly. He handed you the glass. You thanked him, taking a small sip, the cool water felt good on your sore throat. You held the glass against your forehead. It gave Sixty an idea. He took the glass from you, setting it on a nearby table.

"Would you sit up for a moment?" You complied and he sat behind you, gently pulling you to lie down with him. He lowered his hand's temperature, placing it on your head.

"That feels nice." You sighed, practically melting against him. He smiled, happy to have found some way to ease your suffering, if only a little. "Can you put on a movie? One we've seen a dozen times. I need a distraction."

"Sure." He connected to the tv, turning it on and going to your playlist.

.......

You were dozing off by the time the sound of the front door opened. You opened your eyes, seeing Connor carrying several bags. He set the bags on the coffee table, crouching down in front of you."

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. Next question." You gave him a crooked smile. He leaned forward, shifting Sixty's hand for a second and pressing his lips to your forehead.

"Your fever is still far too high, " he riffled through the bags, "because you can't stomach solids, I grabbed this one. It should absorb into your system faster." He produced a bottle of purple cold and flu medicine.

"No."

Your answer baffled both androids.

"What?" They blurted simultaneously.

"I am not drinking that."

"Why not?" Connor regarded the bottle, "You like grapes."

"Try it."

He glanced up at you to see if you were serious. Surely it can't be so bad that you would rather suffer through your symptoms. Apparently, you thought so, as you weren't joking. He opened the bottle and brought it to his nose, taking a whiff. It was quite... Strong. He poured a small amount into the pre-measured cup and put it in his mouth. Instant regret set in. Has the person who created this abomination ever even tasted a grape? He wasn't even sure it would be good for his systems if he swallowed it. You couldn't help but laugh at the faces he was making.

Sixty's curiosity got the better of him. He reached down and took the bottle from Connor, opening it. The older RK choked down his mouthful.

"Don't."

He almost heeded him too, but the fault in deviant detective androids is their burning curiosity. It barely touched his tongue before he spit it back out into the bottle.

"Oh, rA9, toss it. That's horrible." Sixty handed Connor back the bottle, as if it were poisonous. Connor got up and chucked it in the bin, returning to his spot on the floor.

"Stop making... Making me laugh! It hurts!" You giggled. Their reaction was worth the pain. You wished you had recorded it, you doubt that they'd give you their memory file.

"Well, I also grabbed liquid capsules. Hopefully, they'll dissolve quickly." He went through the bags again and pulled out the small box, popping two pills out, and a can of ginger ale. You took them both, sipping on the drink and handing it back, which he put next to your water. You sank back down against Sixty.

"You two are the best." They both swelled with pride at your grumbled words.

Connor stood up, taking another purchase out of the bag and plugging it into a nearby outlet. Ensuring it was at the proper setting, he laid it out over your stomach. The gentle heat from the pad helped ease the ache. Thanks to Sixty, the cold compress wasn't necessary. It was quite a brilliant idea. The older android still put the compress into the freezer, just in case, then joined you and Sixty on the couch, lifting your legs so he could settle under them and the blanket. He kept one hand on your leg, gently rubbing it, or tracing shapes into the skin. His other hand stretched out over the back of the couch, intertwining with the fingers of Sixty's free hand.

They kept vigil over your resting form, ready to assist you the second you ask. Unfortunately, you were only able to doze off for about twenty minutes, though it felt like seconds, before you sprung up.

"Don't follow me." Was all you got out before you dashed to the bathroom. Against their wishes, they obeyed, counting the minutes that passed by. After fourteen, you slowly crept back.

"Are you-" Sixty started.

"I don't wanna talk about it, " was your quick reply. Some things are better left unsaid.

"I got this, though if it's like the other, let me know." Connor grabbed a bottle with pink liquid in it. You took it, considering your options. Eventually, you set it next to your drinks, taking another small sip of the ginger ale before lying back down.

"It's not bad, but its not good either. I might try it later. Right now, my stomach doesn't know what it's doing and I'd rather have as little as possible in it."

"I'm sorry you feel so terrible, " Connor softy spoke. He couldn't help but think that he could have prevented this. As of late, you had been dealing with a lot of work stress, weakening your immune system. Had he calculated that, along with the fact that the flu had been making it's rounds among the other human detectives, he could have altered your meal plan, perhaps started you on vitamins, ensured you only ate what him and Sixty prepared for you, and checked that you were washing your hands after touching anything, maybe then-

"Connor, " you narrowed your eyes at the older RK800. You knew that look, the remorseful sorrow sitting just under the surface of the contemplating android. "It was bound to happen. Humans get sick, and I had been overdue. I might feel like I'm dying, but I know I'm not. It will pass. I'm just happy I can't get the two of you sick." You would have felt even more guilty that they were waiting on your every request if they were also risking their health to do so. Not to mention, when you're ill, you can't help but want to be held and cared for. Misery loves company, you suppose.

Connor smiled and nodded. He still feels it was preventable, but there's no use dwelling on the past. All he can do now is help to care for you.

The sun was starting to rise, signaling it was almost time to start getting ready for work. Sixty connected with the blinds, closing them all so the sun wouldn't bother you. Your temperature was dropping, much to their elation, though it was still in the triple digits. Connor made the decision to call all three of them out of work, claiming you had the flu and Sixty was having an episode, leaving him to care for the two. He didn't like lying, but he knows whether he or Sixty goes to work, both would be unable to focus, thoughts only on you. Fowler was upset, naturally, but agreed.

Your boys took care of you, playing movie after movie that you would just sleep through if you were lucky. They took turns comforting you when you were purging your, already empty, stomach, rubbing your back or getting you water. Later on, Connor ran you a bath while Sixty gathered your dirty clothes, tossing them in the washer and finding you some fresh, dry pajamas. They did everything in their power to help you make a full recovery. With your two doctors on the case, it was only a matter of time before you're back on your feet.

[welshdragonrawr]

For the Valentine's Day asks: 1-5, 7-11, 13-17, 19, 20, 22-27, 29-33, 35, 39, 41-43, 44 (fuck, marry, kill: Amanda, Audrey, Ally), 47-49 pleeeeeeease?? I know I said I wouldn't request a million but I'm a curious bean hehe ;)

Seeing as it is actually Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d finally answer these. Under the cut, because it’s a loooooong post and I didn’t want to overtake peeps’ dash. Well here goes;

(Also, the post format messed up, but I couldn’t be bothered to fix them because this already took ages so they’re just in the order asked and I bolded answers so they stand out)

do you have a crush on anyone? - I do indeed, and I am fairly certain they are well aware of it ;)

what’s your favorite candy? - It changes all the time because I have such a sweet tooth but right now chocolate-wise it’s probably cadbury or kinder chocolate, and actual candy probably haribo (tangfastics to be precise)

favorite love song? - There are too many to choose from or list here but right now it’s probably still ‘Wasteland Baby’ by Hozier, You Are In Love by Taylor Swift, or for entirely cheesy reasons a certain someone might know Hero by Enrique Iglesias 

what was your first kiss like? - Terrible because I didn’t know what I was doing and was with entirely the wrong person at the wrong time and I didn’t know it then

what was your last kiss like? - If it’s the one I’m allowed to think of in this context, pretty damn good ;)

do you prefer poems or love letters? - Both - I can’t decide, because I love anything remotely like that, when someone goes to the length of composing something like either of those because they were thinking of me? Incredible! 

favorite fanfic trope? - Slow-Burn if that counts, with a side order of fake dating or mutual pining, potentially both at once heheh 

have you ever been in love? Mayyyybeeee, maybe I aaaaam, I’ll just have to let you ponder that one ;)

favorite milkshake flavor? - Chocolate brownie, even if I can’t have too much because then it gets sickly but in small quantities? Yesssss! Or cookies&cream in any variation

dinner dates or brunch dates? - This one was tough because I don’t really have any experience with either, but I think Brunch dates, and not just because I would have much much less anxiety about awkward food ordering and stuff, plus I feel like Brunch dates have much less formal expectation about them, and you have the rest of the day after to do more things if you want to!

favorite perfume/cologne?  - Probably the Ghost one that has a bottle shaped like the moon, or Good Girl by Caroline Herrera (the bottle looks like a high heel?)

favorite candle scent? - There’s a seasonal Yankee Candle one they do around Christmas time that I cannot remember the name of for the life of me right now, but it’s just the right kind of sweetness in the air when you have it burning for a lil while? If I ever remember what it is I’ll come back and edit this post haha

what’s your ideal first date? - I’m not really sure, because all types of dates make me nervous especially first dates haha. I’d like to leave it up to the other person to decide what we do, as long as I could treat them in some way with whatever it is/wherever we go? 

favorite love story? - Are we talking classics or fandom or...? What currently springs off the top of my head though is Hades & Persephone - I’m convinced he didn’t ‘steal her’ to be a dick, he stole her away to somewhere cool and calm away from the pressures and terrors of life on the surface so she could catch her breath for a couple months, and can we blame her? And he makes her his Queen, like - if he was gonna be mean, he could have made her his slave, or his concubine or his pet or something, but instead he gave her his whole world to rule with him. Sounds like a better guy than that bastard ol’ Zeus, no? (Historians/Classics students please don’t fight me) 

what’s the most attractive thing a person could wear? - Happiness. Doesn’t matter to me whether you’re wearing a trash bag, or a Chanel dress or your faded ol’ pjs or not a single thread. So long as you’re happy and you’ve got that glow about you and that bright shine in your eyes? Yeah..

snow, rain, or sun? -  I love all three for different reasons (I’m indecisive, don’t judge me, or do) give me a snow day with my dog or my lover with hot chocolate and snowmen and flurries out the window, or an afternoon reading inside while it rains with blankets and a cup of tea, or a sunny afternoon walk with just the right amount of cool breeze to keep it balmy but bright? Yes please. But again, if I had to choose, probably rain... Because I live in England for one thing, but there’s something so comforting about the rain.

sweetest romantic memory? - My partner at the time took me to a second-hand bookshop and let me browse the stacked shelves as long as I liked, and I found a hardback copy of a book by a fave author but it was too expensive so just admired it and put it back, then when my birthday rolled around 2 weeks later, they turned up with that same book they had gone back for without telling me as a surprise gift

fictional crushes? - Cordelia Goode, Theo Crain, Mildred Ratched, I could keep listing but that means we’d be here forever and if you’ve been following me long enough you probably already know anyway...

what’s your dream wedding like? - This would need a whole post on its own to answer if I could actually be decisive and sit down with some thought over it. But alas... I don’t really know, I’d like things to be somewhat fancy and romantic, but I’d also like for it not to feel all stuffy and super serious like, that everyone can have fun and be a little goofy and a little merry and not have to worry about oh am I doing this certain thing right or feeling all self-conscious while dancing. So I’m not really sure how to narrow it down into specific details or events...? Except, there’s a really dumb nerdy part of me that wants to be able to do the cake slicing with a sword rather than a knife. Because reasons. 

what makes you blush? - Too much. Usually compliments. 

do you believe in love at first sight? - I believe in *attraction* at first sight, and *affection* you find or work for later. 

do you believe in soulmates? - Yeah, but I also believe a soulmate doesn’t have to be someone you’re in love with or a romantic partner, a soulmate can just as easily be a friend you keep on keeping on through this silly little game of life with, y’know? You’ve both been dealt shitty hands, but you’d be willing to share each others cards to get through, and some other cheesy af analogies...

denim jackets, leather jackets, or bomber jackets? - Leather jackets, tho technically I have worn and do wear all three so - I hoard jackets like some people hoard shoes and handbags, it’s a problem

are you single? - if you know you know, and that’s the that on that ;)

do you prefer to charm, or be charmed? - Both? I love to see the look on a partners face when they’re charmed, all blushing and cute and sparkly eyes and big smiles - I think I like to be charmed too but I would also get suuuuper awkward and not sure what to do with it or in response to it because I’m not used to being on the receiving end of attention like that?

guitar or piano? - I love both, and girls who can play either/both are heavensent sirens who can have me under their spell for hours (I think it’s the hand thing again, see?) but if I had to choose it would have to be Piano.

favorite romcom (or any romantic movie)? - Um... Does Love & Other Drugs count? Or Imagine Me And You - I’m not big on too many ‘traditional’ rom-coms because they make me cringe way too often, and often not in a good way, but there’s sometimes the odd one I enjoy! (Though I must admit, being British, Bridget Jones and Love Actually are like, historical treasures so...)

do you fall in love easily? - Nope. I mean, do I love people easily? Yeah I try to give the best of myself to the people I cherish as much as possible. But do I *fall in love* easily? Nah, takes a while before this oblivious lil heart realises it.

would you prefer to propose or be proposed to? what’s your dream proposal? - Oh gosh, honestly, I don’t know... I’m one of those people that *love* to do anything and everything to bring a smile to my partner’s face and make them happy and there’s just something so magical about seeing their face light up and their eyes sparkle, y’know? So I feel like I would want to do that by giving them the perfect proposal for them (but on the flipside this means I would also be incredibly *terrified* of ever doing it remotely wrong/not exactly how they wanted it, or getting the wrong kind of ring or all of that plethora of details and minutiae that could be messed up ahha). But also, I kinda wouldn’t mind being proposed to either? Like I’m so used to taking care of other people, it might be nice, at the risk of sounding like a bad pokemon promo. to have that validation of someone else saying ‘I choose you’ y’know? As for dream proposal, much like dream wedding, I’m not entirely sure? As long as it’s memorable and with the one I love? (Which is such a cop-out answer) I honestly don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it, probably because I never really thought it was happen so I figured why think about something that’s never gonna happen ahhah. Somewhere picturesque I guess? So I could really capture the picture in my mind for the rest of my lifen, not like for a social media photo post or any of that shit but just for myself to look back on, if any of that essay ramble makes any sense. 

kittens or puppies? - How DARE- Nope. It’s both. I’m sorry but it’s both. They are both adorable AF and I will love and pet and cherish them all. 

favorite soda? - Cola I guess? And don’t try to rope me into the Pepsi V Coke thing, because honestly I like both for different reasons and choosing one over the other seems silly when either of them tastes good if you’ve got enough whiskey or rum in them ;) 

do you prefer gazing wistfully out the window or lying dramatically over the sofa? - I rather like doing both tbf, but if I’m gonna be honest, give me ‘cosied up under a blanket, with a mug of hot tea/coffee gazing wistfully out the window at whatever weather is going on outside, any day.

favorite ABBA song? - How dare you - umm... Slipping Through My Fingers or The Winner Takes It All because I am at heart a soppy dramatic fool.

fuck/marry/kill? (anons name 3 people of your choice) - You meanie, how dare you make me decide such a thing. Buuuut Fuck Ally (cuz you just *know* that canon wlw got some mooooves), Marry Amanda (because she seems like someone I could get along with in all the day to day stuff y’know? Like, I could settle down with her, you feel me?) and don’t hate me but you asked the question but Kill Audrey (*runs and hides*)

do you think about love a lot? - Yeah, I think so, in all its different incarnations. As a writer I’m kinda obligated to? But I think I think about it even when I’m not super aware of it or the reasons for or why. 

a walk in the park or a walk on the beach? - It’s a tough once because I love it when the light filters *just so* through trees and looks so pretty, but the beach has the lapping waves and soft sand to walk on and pretty colours at sunsets and sharing ice creams/chips/doughnuts/pretzels and- Yeah so beach probably.

hand kisses or nose kisses? - Hand kisses, fo’sho, because haaaands

[dotthings]

Okay SPN 15.04, here we go, where I feel weirdly self-conscious about posting a meta post about an ep that had so much meta on itself and now I’m going to write meta about it, so it’s meta on meta on meta, while I’m having my feelings.

THAT COLD OPEN HOLY CRAP DIRECTOR JENSEN. As a director Jensen always pulls out warm performances from actors and he’s a really kinetic director too. That opening fight sequence I held my breath for a lot of it. 

BENNY OH NOES IT’S BENNY (this must be the character Jensen said was one of his favorites and the actor came back to set for one day to do it). “I’ll see you on the other side, brother.” Thanks so MUCH, spn, I thought I was over this and then you come in and reopen that and now I’ve got feelings gdi. Benny was a good friend to Dean. My heart hurts. 

Ohshitohshitohshitohshit demon blood Sam. Noooooo. And he kills Dean. I can never erase these images from my mind, thanks a LOT spn. 

Just a nightmare of Sam’s except no probably not given Sam’s god-wound, so wow this maybe happens on one of Chuck’s other worlds, that’s fine, oh that’s okay I’m fiiiiine, it’s fine. *covers face*

So we have a flip on early S14 here where Dean was turtling to cope with his trauma which is a healthy thing to do but hiding from the world wasn’t going to fix anything so Sam coaxes him out with a hunt. Dean coaxes Sam out with a hunt only I don’t think hunting works for Sam the same way, it’s not Sam’s mental comfort food the way it is for Dean, but still I appreciate the mirroring there.

Sam’s struggling with Rowena’s death and I think those horrific AU nightmare visions aren’t helping much either, but it’s clear he’s feeling the loss. Her loss, all the recent losses.

Dean trolls Sam with real bacon, which seems like Dean is maybe trying to cheer Sam up by pranking him and trying to cheer himself up via food pranks. Dean has quite the case of the munchies in this ep. 

I noticed almost every scene Dean is snacking or drinking from his flask. How’s that whole “Cas walked out and left apparently for good” working out for you Dean, wow, you’re suspiciously chipper while stuffing your face and drinking and Not Talking About It. Did Sam and Dean talk about where’s Cas? Who knows, the ep didn’t mention it, hey SPN you needed a Cas mention, OH WAIT THE EP IS GOING TO CALL ME OUT FOR SAYING THAT.

Seriously though, this is very Dean MO, and I have thoughts about his mood in this ep and how Cas’s absence was felt, and what it means, I’ll get to that later, but even before the last scene Impala talk, I was thinking Cas is a reminder of pain--and no it’s not all about Dean’s anger at Cas, it’s not because Dean is angry at Cas. Cas is a reminder of some things Dean just isn’t coping with very well and part of the problem is Dean cares so much. 

So Dean’s snacking and drinking and Sam is feeling the weight of them knowing all the scary things out there while people go on obliviously with their lives and I’m not sure if Sam is envying them or Sam is feeling some existential angst about the state of the world, how people can go about their lives unaware there are real monsters ready to pounce and tear their lives to shreds. And feeling the weight of the job they do in every bone of his body. Sam’s in a dark headspace.

Ok I admit I was not thrilled to see Becky again given her previous episodes and role. SPN’s later in-canon fan characters were much more nuanced and successful and respectful depictions of fans. But as with many other things, this era of SPN is revisiting some things to move them forward in a different way than before, and subvert some things that needed subverting and Becky has had--wait for it--character development. How about that.

Yes, Becky, run, you do not want anything to do with Chuck. Run, Becky run. I’m rooting for her now. RUNNNN.

Along with finding a more constructive way of channeling her interest in the Winchesters’ lives, and having a satisfying fandom creative life and a full life of her own, Becky has funko pops of Sam, Dean, and Cas. LOL. I see you spn. 

Dean, still with the case of the munchies. So this is like the eating a whole pint of ice-cream after a break-up, only Dean does it with junk food while hunting vampires.

I enjoyed this conversation between Becky and Chuck about writing immensely. Becky is actually right. Speaking myself as someone who’s suffered from writers block for a while, it’s miserable, and not writing just perpetuates the cycle. You feel cut off from an important part of yourself. And--oh here we go getting meta within meta--I find writing meta on SPN a positive outlet. 

“Writing is writing.” Damn Becky’s takedown of Chuck’s derisiveness about fanfic was sizzling and oh excuse me Chuck, what is it you think you were doing with those Supernatural books about your favorite story. Even though he’s the creator, I know. But still. Also seems to be a sly comment on how male-authored “fanfic” based on someone else’s characters or historical characters gets to be professionally published novels and nobody wants to admit it’s fanfic but it is, but women write fanfic and women write novels based on someone else���s characters or historical figures and it gets derided. 

Did not expect commentary celebrating the creativity and validity of fanwork of women in particular an episode of SPN, especially not with Becky of all people, but here we are. 

Uhhhh is Chuck writing this episode, as it happens? I am seriously uneasy now. What is going on. What is real. Which is what I think Dean is going through because of Chuck and OUCH the Winchesters think they’re free but they’re not but also they are their own people and Chuck isn’t controlling them but it’s like he’s still making the framework?? Or would this case just be happening on his own and Perez is just messing with our heads in this script right now.

Oh damn because this ep wasn’t sadness enough now here we go with the Jack parallels. “I can’t control this.” “I’m a monster.” “I killed someone I love.” Parents doing anything to save their out of control teenage kid or does he need to be killed, so the parents are Cas, while Sam and Dean are Dean. 

Interesting that Dean lowered the gun and didn’t kill Jack, but tells Sam they would do that for Jack if it was necessary. You didn’t, though, Dean. You couldn’t go through with it any more than those distressed parents of the vampire teen.

Becky is voicing various non-dire fan complaints here, every lane of the fandom is being gently called out right now. Hahaha including lack of Cas mentions in an ep that pointedly is not!Mentioning Cas because it’s not a mistake there’s actually reasons for that which is just lampshading how much Dean is pointedly Not Going to Talk About Cas. 

“Where they sit around doing laundry and talk” -- again every lane of the fandom should feel very called out right now. Seriously, fandom lanes that hate each other’s guts all have that common factor of craving more domesticity, and would like to see the laundry ep of SPN and for many, it has better include Cas, or we’re working through our need for this via fanfics or fanart. Even Jared and Jensen have expressed interest in a “Winchesters do the laundry” kind of episode. 

But here’s the thing--here’s the thing about SPN...it depicts domesticity. In small bits of pieces. Even in this ep there’s domesticity. SO HA. It’s not that SPN is against depictions of domesticity, it’s definitely in the toolset of its storytelling, to give the characters more layers, to make their lives seem more real, but there needs to be mostly an action plot because that’s the genre so they mostly kill monsters and we only get nibbles of domesticity.

Becky and Chuck arguing about Chuck’s incredibly dark story ending, after Becky criticized him for the story not having enough bite, was so interesting. While the episode’s dark story ending was actually quite well done IMO and not overdone and yes it’s bleak but it’s supposed to be. So it’s not that sad is always terrible writing, no. It isn’t. But its overuse has been a raging hot topic in spn fandom for years and SPN is a hopeful narrative as well as a bleak one. Overuse of loss of hope and misery can hurt the story, causes a number of fans to become desensitized and lose their emotional engagement for it (which has happened to be at a couple of points in SPN’s long run). So that conversation interested me a great deal, yes it did.

So.....SPN had its current biggest of the biggest of ultimate big bads, the ultimate power God himself, the author, and made him the enthusiast for overuse of the misery pr0n like that’s the only smart way to tell a story. The season’s big bad villain is a misery porn enthusiast.

I’m just gonna....sit here and absorb that for a moment.

Oh and this while all the PR for the show keeps warning us about how sad this story is and how bleak the ending will be, not a happy ending show. Are they warning us? Are they trolling us and misdirecting? Because they made their villain a misery pr0n fanboy and this intelligent, self-aware positive depiction of Becky the fan taking him to task for it. 

I feel like could be headed for every story needs its darkness and its light, you need the darkness to appreciate the light, and you need some light or the story is less meaningful. We’ll see.

“I’m a writer,” says Chuck and then takes away everyone Becky loves and then unmakes Becky. This is a purposeful depiction of a writer creator as a sadist. It’s a diabolical reversal on the Stephen King’s Misery scenario. Becky played the deranged fangirl in the past, who kidnaps an object of obsession, now she’s the victim of the deranged sadistic writer who breaks into her home, destroys her life, and then effectively kills her because of his own obsession with making Sam and Dean wretchedly miserable because he thinks that’s the only way to make the story exciting.

*blinks*

In the last scene, oh thanks Sam, for vocalizing the Jack connection. 

Hey Dean, that’s really a nice speech and yes Sam did give you a great pep talk but Sam wasn’t the only one who told you what you did still has meaning. This is like 15.01 where Dean is pointedly erasing Cas again despite Cas very obviously having done something Dean refuses to acknowledge. In 15.01 it was Dean leaving Cas out of his us vs the forces of evil speech to Sam, despite Cas having spent most of the ep shooting ghosts in the face and saving Sam’s life twice. Sam and Cas both have given Dean pep talks about the meaning of what they do but only Sam pulled Dean out of it...uhhh yeah that’s not writer error or canon ignoring Cas. That’s Dean trying to push Cas out of his mind. Something there hurts so much Dean isn’t dealing with it right now.

As I said, as I’ve been saying, it’s not so much that Dean is that angry at Cas. It’s not just about Mary. Or about Cas keeping things from him. Although those are all valid reasons for Dean’s hurt and anger. Dean seems to be afraid or hurt over more than that. And his love for Cas, IMO, is part of why this is weighing so heavily. What does he fear. I think it’s connected to the whole existential crisis about Chuck. What if none of this is real. I’ve talked about that in other posts, if none of this is real, if Dean still doubts, then what if what’s between him and Cas isn’t real, what if Cas doesn’t really care about him because none of it real. 

Dean valiantly puts a brave face on things here, they keep going, they keep fighting for the sake of those they lost, no matter what, “keep putting one foot in front of the other.” Which makes sense. That’s how you honor those you’ve lost. It’s just that I don’t think Dean has really reached that. He is Not Dealing with an awful lot of stuff here. And we have seen again and again how hard Dean reels from losing loved ones.  So what’s going on with Dean here. This is a healthy concept, but not if Dean is just whistling past the graveyard again. This might look like character development except look at what’s been going on with Dean. How deeply losing Mary, losing Jack affected him. The impact of those losses needs to be acknowledged and dealt with in order to truly move on and move forward. It’s like Dean is voicing a healthy outlook but isn’t actually experiencing it. I think Dean is posturing because if he lets all the hurt it right now, it will devour him.

There’s also the part where Sam and Dean have in the past displayed a lack of ability to just keep on keeping on if they lose each other, so they used to sell their souls, or violate the other one’s wishes and autonomy, or let the darkness free, but we’ve also seen them let each other go, and “keep putting one foot in front of the other.” Sam and Dean have done both ways with each other. Dean didn’t exactly just keep on keeping on no problem when Cas died at the end of S12.

Sam voices the other side of things, he can’t just move on right now. He’s feeling all the losses. They’ve piled up and piled up and it’s crushing him. Sam says he "can’t breathe” at times. He brings up Jessica, a loss he suffered 14 years ago. 

So Sam and Dean are airing the two aspects of loss and grief on SPN. One the one hand, you don’t just give up and quit because of loss. Honor who you’ve lost and keep on fighting. But losses are deeply felt, and it’s not all okay either. Sam and Dean don’t just shrug off these losses because they have each other. That’s not how this works. They need more than just each other and SPN is increasingly having more and more open dialogue about all of this.

S15 so far has been so much about the impact losing people they love has on Sam and Dean, and why their isolation isn’t a good thing. 

And there’s Chuck, the big bad, typing away to add more misery. Because Chuck gets off on giving them loved ones and taking them away, over and over and this isn’t presented as a good thing or a satisfying thing or a desirable thing or a celebration of anything.