#Martha did end up having to come up with a lot more nonsense than she should have

[hoper-of-farflung-hopes]

It's very strange seeing other people interpret your relationships through the lens of a story, and seeing them do it completely incorrectly

I get why it happens obviously- to them it is just a story, and everything is open for interpretation, and the version of events that I'm from is only one of many possibilities.

Still strange though

[yellow-dejavu]

MARek TannHAus = MARTHA nielsen

SONJA tannhaus = JONAS kahnwald

There is this interpretation that i really like that says that Jonas and Martha are like a reflection of Marek and Sonja. Jonas and Martha only exist because of Marek and Sonja. Even their names create them, Martha can be formed with Marek's full name and Jonas is basically an anagram of Sonja.

I like to think of it as the origin world splitting what was already there and mixing in the pain and vision of the creator (H.G. Tannhaus) to create this anomaly. It's like an exaggeration. It made two worlds that depend on each other to ever happen and erase itself in just a moment of time.

Nielsen Siblings and Marek Tannhaus

The three Nielsen siblings start with an M because of Ulrich's brother (Mads). However, I think that each of them can represent a way in which H.G. Tannhaus saw his son.

Magnus: Something I always noticed about Magnus in season 1 is how protective he is of his mother. He is constantly trying to help her with everything that is going on and trying to be on her side. We get to see that side of Magnus again in Season 3 when we see a different version of the characters at the beginning of the chaos for them. When Ulrich comes to visit, he doesn't want him there the moment Katharina gets home. He also thought Martha was talking nonsense about the end of the world, and he just didn't wanted her bothering their mother with it. When we meet Marek, one of the things he says to his father is, "No wonder Mom couldn't stand it here." Marek is someone who understands his mother's point of view and seems to be on her side most of the time. Just like Magnus.

Martha: I think Martha represents the most misunderstood side. Something we see about Martha is that she stands up for herself when she thinks her parents are being unfair. She usually does this when her parents are too focused on their things and don't pay attention to her wants and needs as their child. In one way or another, it can be seen in both worlds as her father abandoning the family. We also see her more than once having problems with Katharina because she feels ignored by her. It is the same with Marek when he says that his father never saw him. Still, we see that their parents really want to try to connect with them, even if they don't know how. I think the best way to describe it is something Katharina said to Martha in 3x06: "I'm sure i'm the last person you want to talk to, but If you do I'm here. Your dad and I… A lot of things might be different now. But that's not necessarily all bad."

Mikkel: He is the little boy. That's how his parents would always remember him, and they would do anything for him. No matter how much time passes, they would still try to save him even if they can't save themselves. It doesn't matter if they lose their freedom or their lives. Even damning the whole world is an option. Ulrich tried to kill someone and got locked up because he thought he could find his son. Katharina fought until her last breath to reunite her family, while in other world she died holding Mikkel during the apocalypse. Tannhaus split the world in two because he couldn't let go the pain of losing Marek, Sonja and Charlotte. He couldn't accept a world without his family. Like Ulrich and Katharina, Tannhaus also did everything he could to bring his little boy back.

[jouretnuit-nightandday]

Fluffy shoni prompt: Toni taking care of a sick Shelby 🥺

Thanks! I love writing for these two :’)

--------

Toni comes home to a dark apartment. The blinds are closed. The lights are off. Even the air seems stiller than usual. She chucks off her shoes, and quietly makes her way to the bedroom, where she finds Shelby, asleep, under a pile of blankets. There’s a mountain of tissues on the bedside table, three dirty mugs, an empty pack of almond cookies, a bowl of half-eaten, congealed oatmeal, a huge bottle of Ibuprofen, and, at the foot of the bed, a pile of the old vintage comics Martha got Toni for her birthday, the very ones Shelby always makes fun of her for liking. Who’s the nerd, now? Toni thinks, with a small smile, as she steps over various discarded items of clothing to get to the bed.

The mess doesn’t surprise her. Contrary to appearances, Shelby isn’t a particularly organized person, and though she makes an effort to keep their shared space clean and orderly, that tends to disappear completely when she gets stressed or, in that case, sick. Toni, on the other hand, is very tidy. When you grow up in foster care, without much to your name, you quickly learn the habits that are least likely to get you in trouble, or to get your stuff confiscated, or stolen. So the first thing Toni does, before even checking on Shelby, is push the mound of tissues into the wastebasket. Then she puts away clothes and comics, and collects mugs and leftovers, bringing them back to the kitchen to deal with later. 

When she comes back into the bedroom, Shelby’s eyes are open, and she looks contrite. “I’m sorry you had to clean all of that,” she croaks out, trying to sit up. Toni takes a seat on the bed, beside her, and gently pushes against her shoulders until Shelby lies back down against the propped pillows. 

“Don’t worry about it.” She brushes blond hair away from Shelby’s sweaty forehead, rubs at the spot between her eyebrows. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” Shelby says, “but I’ll be okay.” She smiles, weakly. Toni bends down to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Has the fever gone down at all?”

“I think so,” Shelby says. She coughs, a bit, then exhales shakily. “I’m definitely a bit less woozy than I was this morning, so that’s nice.”

“Good. I’ll give you a couple more pills with dinner, and hopefully you’ll be fever-less by tomorrow.”

“Dinner?” Shelby frowns. “Toni, I don’t know if I’m up for eating.”

“Well, you have to. You need some energy if you’re gonna beat that nasty flu.” Toni’s voice grows a bit higher, and she adopts the no-nonsense tone of Dot as she says, in a perfect imitation of their friend : “Lots of liquids, lots of rest, and make sure she eats something, that should do the trick.”

“You called Dot?” Shelby reacts, her eyes widening. “Gosh, Toni, you shouldn’t have, now she’s gonna be all worried.”

“Please,” Toni snorts. “I was worried. Dot just listened to me ramble on the phone all panicky for, like, a full minute, before telling me it was”-- she makes quotation marks with her fingers --” just the flu and I needed to get a grip and go buy chicken soup.” She ends the quotation marks. “Which I did, by the way, I stopped by Trader Joe’s on my way from work. Got you some juice too, and even some ice cream - pistachio, your favorite - to help with the sore throat.”

Shelby raises a hand, and touches Toni’s shoulder, fingers trailing down her arm until they circle Toni’s wrist. She gives her a light squeeze. “You were worried?” she asks, and her voice is hoarse, but there’s a smile stretching her lips. “About me?”

Toni rolls her eyes. “Duh! Of course, I was worried. It’s almost like I love you or something.”

But Shelby’s smile doesn’t go away. “It’s sweet,” she murmurs. “You’re so sweet.” Toni’s heart flutters in her chest, a little. They’ve been together for years, but Shelby complimenting her still somehow affects her just like it did in the beginning. It makes her feel alive, and loved, hearing the fondness in Shelby’s voice. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Shelby says, still holding onto Toni’s wrist. Her eyes are bright in the semi-darkness of the room. Toni moves her arm so she can bring the back of Shelby’s hand up, close to her mouth, and she presses a light kiss onto her knuckles.  

“Always, Shelby, you know that.”

Shelby smiles, and opens her mouth, but whatever she was about to say is interrupted by a horrible coughing fit. Toni props her up and rubs her back as she wheezes and hacks and gasps, and her fingers tighten around Toni’s wrist, almost painfully, but Toni doesn’t move an inch, doesn’t make a sound. When it’s over, Shelby rests her forehead against Toni’s shoulder, catching her breath. Toni slips a hand under Shelby’s shirt, presses her palm against Shelby’s spine, hoping the touch will help her calm down. “You’re okay,” she whispers into Shelby’s hair.

“I hate feeling like this,” Shelby groans. 

“I know, I know. You’ll feel better tomorrow. Come on, let’s get you back in bed, you can rest till dinner.” Slowly, carefully, she moves Shelby back into a lying position, her back against the pillows. Shelby’s eyes open, with some difficulty, and she looks up at Toni. “Will you stay with me?” she asks, voice gravelly. Then she tries to shrug. “Sorry, I know I’m being super needy right now..”

“Babe,” Toni cuts her off, shaking her head. “Of course, I’ll stay with you.” She climbs into bed with Shelby, and curls up on her side, one arm across Shelby’s stomach, and her head resting on Shelby’s chest, under her chin. 

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best girlfriend?” Shelby mumbles, sleepily. 

“Hmmm, I think that’s just the fever talking,” Toni jokes, her tone light, and she feels the rumble of Shelby’s laughter against her cheek. Shelby’s hand comes to rest on her waist, pressing them closer together. 

“Go to sleep,” Toni says, low and soft. “I’m here.”

[collecting-stories]

The Truck - ep. 08 - Georgia

Summary: You stop by on break to visit Daryl at the auto shop. The Jeep is almost done being repaired.

A/N: I think basically I’m writing an even slower burn than last time.

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“I think ya ain’t as smart as ya tell me ya are,” Daryl joked as he caught sight of you walking into Dale’s Autobody shop, still in your uniform from the diner. Three days after Christmas and you’d been working as many hours as Patricia would give you. Both you and your mom trying to stay away from the house and each other  as much as possible.  

“I most definitely am. Why?” You asked, ducking your head down into the car he was working on when he sat down in the front seat. A newer model Nissan he’d been cursing since the owner brought it in.  

“Cause I tell ya all the time not ta come in here and where are ya?” He asked, looking over at you.  

“It’s not my fault, Axel said you said you’re almost done my baby.” You teased. Axel had told you over ordering his lunch that Daryl had mentioned to T-Dog that he was nearly done the work on the Jeep. Took a while, he had lamented, but he was finally, almost done. “Heard you’re glad to be rid of me.”

“Ain’t what I said,” he replied, “said I was glad ta be rid a that fucking jeep. Pain in my ass.”  

“Now I know you’re talking about me.”  

Daryl’s expression changed for a brief second, eyes fixing on the faint pink lines on your cheek. Barely noticeable but they hadn’t been there before Christmas. “What happened?” He tapped his finger against the same spot on his face to indicate what he was asking about.  

“Just a cat scratch. Hershel’s got a couple to keep the mice away and I couldn’t resist trying to pet one.”  

“They’re nasty creatures…yer lucky he didn’t take yer whole face off.” He replied, climbing back out of the car again. “Ya on break?”

You shook your head, “I picked up a shift from Amy, I got an hour to kill before I start for her.”  

“Ain’t I lucky.”  

“So, is my car really almost fixed?” You asked. You pulled the rolling stool over from the work bench and sat down, spinning once.  

“Just about.” He replied.  

Daryl hated to admit it but he’d been dragging his feet on the project and when he realized that he was nearing completion and your car would be fixed he was half tempted to break it all over again. Sure, you liked stopping in now, chatting him up before or after a shift, bumming rides, showing up at his house to spend your afternoons sitting under the car park. But once the car was fixed you wouldn’t need him to entertain you anymore. You could go to your friends houses or anywhere really, but you didn’t have to hang out with him. He wasn’t going to tell you yet but he’d let it slip to T-Dog and once one of them knew they practically broadcast it.  

“You working late?” You asked, wheeling yourself over next to him.  

“Why, ya don’t know anyone else with a car?”

“Why bother them when I have you?” You tilted your head back to look up at him and smile. You looked like a little kid with your eyes closed and a smile wide enough that he could see all your teeth.  

He rolled his eyes at you and reached over, swiping his greasy finger down your nose and making you jump suddenly at the contact. Your eyes opened and you slid back against the car. “Careful ya don’t scratch her.”

“Did you rub grease on my nose!” You whined, trying to rub it off with the back of your hand but only making more of a mess.  

Daryl shrugged, “ain’t nice ta tease.”  

“Do you have a bathroom here?”  

He pointed toward the back of the shop and you got up, headed for the bathroom to wipe the grease off your face.  

In truth Daryl wasn’t the only one who wasn’t looking forward to the car being fixed. Your throat felt like it dropped into your stomach when Axel told you that Daryl was almost finished the car. It sent you thinking...if Daryl told Axel did that mean he was glad it was almost finished? Was he looking forward to having you out of his hair finally? You scrubbed the grease off your face and frowned at your reflection. You didn’t want this to end.  

“So, ya need a ride later?” Daryl asked once you came out of the bathroom.  

“Yeah if you don’t mind.” You replied.

“Nah,” he shrugged as if he was indifferent toward driving you home, “ain’t got nothing better ta do.”  

-

You hung around a little while longer before you headed back to the diner for work. The whole night you felt distracted by Axel’s news from earlier. You were desperate to get some advice from Maggie but there wasn’t much she could offer, Glenn didn’t need any persuading to be madly in love with her. They’d been together since the 6th grade winter dance and there was no doubt in your mind that nothing, not even Hershel’s stupid rules, could keep them apart.  

Glenn and Maggie were the exception to the rule. Daryl wasn’t tripping over himself to profess his love for you. Half the time you weren’t even totally sure that he liked you. There were glimpses of something that might’ve been something but trust you to choose someone so hard to read. You spent the whole dinner rush trying to think up less costly ways to spend time with him that wouldn’t annoy him or make him feel like you were some stupid kid. The word kid alone was not necessarily something you wanted him to associate with you.  

The idea sparked when he pulled up outside at the end of your shift, parking his truck by the door. You ignored Lori’s comment about Dixon’s being bad news. She ‘went to school with him’ and somehow that had made her the only reputable source on him, at least in her mind. Coupled with the fact that it was Daryl driving you home you were just happy to be done work.  

“I hate the dinner rush,” you complained as you pulled the door shut and leaned against the seat. “This lady bitched me out over the table having a mark in it, meanwhile her kids were dunking every fucking sugar packet, jam packet, and salt packet into their cups of water and then splashing them all over the table!”  

“Musta really boiled yet blood if it’s got ya cursing.”  

“I can curse.”

“I’m sure ya can.” He teased.  

You pouted, arms crossed over your chest as you slumped in the seat and Daryl reached over, jabbing you gently with his fingers against your side when he stopped at a streetlight. You laughed from the sudden sensation and pushed his hand away.  

“I’m not allowed to curse at home but I can curse.” You insisted and he only shook his head, smiling.  

“Think yer a little too sweet ta be hanging around me.”  

“Nonsense. I like hanging out with you.” You replied, “which reminds me-“

“Yeah, what now?”

“How would you feel about teaching me some basic car stuff? I don’t know anything about cars and I’d really like to learn.”  

It was the plan that had finally occurred to you halfway through your shift. You didn’t know the first thing about changing oil or fixing a tire. Hell, you couldn’t even fill it with air if you wanted to.  

“Yer dad never teach ya how ta handle a car?”

“No, I don’t even know how to put windshield washer in it.”  

“A’right, I’ll teach ya. After I finish working on yer car.” He replied. You had only been considering yourself when you formulated your master plan but Daryl couldn’t help the brief flutter of excitement that he felt thinking you’d decided to ask him to help. Even if it was just so you could navigate the basics it still meant that you would willingly be spending more time with him.  

“Seriously?” You asked, smiling over at him.  

“Yeah, why not? Ya should know how ta fix yer car.” He replied, “simple stuff…still gotta make money.”

“I might get so good I’ll steal your business.” You replied.  

“Sure ya could.” He pulled up where he always did, your house visible from his spot parking along the sidewalk. It was dark, just the post lantern by the front of the driveway on. “Yer parents ain’t home?” No cars were in the driveway.  

“My mom’s already left for work.” You shrugged, opening the door to the truck.  

“She be gone all night?”

“I can stay by myself, promise.” You laughed to make a joke of it but you usually spent the night in the living room, talking to Tara or Maggie until they eventually went to sleep. You hated being home alone.  

“I ain’t got anywhere ta be.” Daryl shrugged, offering some company.  

“You don’t mind staying?”  

The inside of your house was exactly what Daryl had expected. A far cry from the worn down, dirty home that he lived in with his father, this was pristine. As if no one had ever sat on the furniture or lived in the house. There weren’t any family pictures but there was Christian art in its place. Tasteful, Martha Stewart-esque Christmas decorations were highlighted through out the living room and kitchen, both spotless.  

Daryl pulled a face at the décor at you laughed, “my mom went on a pier one kick a few years ago trying to outdo the Walshs.”  

“Can’t complain, it’s nicer than mine ever was.” He replied, looking over the table top tree, “yer dad at work too?”

“No. I mean, he’s away. Visiting family.” You said, heading into the kitchen, “my mom works overnight at the hospital, she’s been doing a lot doubles lately though. I’ll be right out, I’m gonna change!”  

Daryl nodded but didn’t say anything, flicking on the rest of the living room lights to get a better look at the room. The only pictures that weren’t nature landscapes or birds were on the mantle. A church directory photo of you and your parents from this year and your senior portrait, the traditional black off the shoulder look with a rose in your hand.  

“I hate that picture,” you complained as you came back into the room. “I look hideous.”  

“Don’t think that’s possible but I ain’t gonna argue.” Daryl replied. “Least I ain’t the only one who don’t have family pictures up.”

“My mom hates candid pictures. She’d never hang them up.” You settled on the couch and watched as Daryl walked back to the door to kick his shoes off. “I don’t have beer but there’s soda in the fridge.”

“I ain’t ever drinking beer ‘round you again. Yer a terrible influence. Ain’t Glenn Hershel should be worried ‘bout.” Daryl teased, coming over to sit beside you.  

“What? No! I am not a bad influence!” You laughed, “I’ve never done anything wrong in my whole life.”  

“I been witness to a few things.”

“No one will believe you.”  

“Ain’t that the truth.” He said, thinking briefly that no one would even believe he was here right now, sitting your house with you while you clicked through channels. He’d be hard pressed to convince them that you had even bummed a cigarette off him, especially if they saw the sweet looking church photo of you with your parents.  

“So what kind of car things will you teach?” You asked, ignoring the channel you’d chosen and turning more toward Daryl.  

“What kinda car things ya need ta learn?”

“Everything but how to drive?” You replied, biting your lip.  

“Well I ain’t seen ya drive so I can’t cross it off the list just yet.”

“I’m a good driver.”  

“Yeah? You working tomorrow morning?” He asked, looking back toward the TV.  

“No, I’ve got off.”  

“Alright, I gotta pick up my check in Woodbury, I’ll let you drive me for once.”  

“In my Jeep?”

“Hell no, ya ain’t getting in that thing ‘fore it’s fixed. You can drive the truck.” He replied. The truck was his brother Merle’s originally but Merle was in jail and he hadn’t spent the last three years fixing every inch of it to have it running like new. It might’ve been Merle’s to begin with but that old Chevy was Daryl’s pride and joy. He didn’t let anyone get behind the wheel, not even Rick or T-Dog, but he was offering it up to you.  

“I’ll be the best driver you’ve ever seen.”  

-

Taglist:  @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare  @mainokutan @qrangr  @twdeadfanfic @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon  @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @of-storms-and-sadness @twdeadfanfic @alwaysadreamingoptimist @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano @cathwritestragediesnotsins @siren-queen03

[anotherhamiltonblog]

Foreign Touch ch 7

Warnings:  Angst. Panic Attack. Talk of Character Death. Cursing. the boys being cute friends. Thomas being a Cute boyfriend.

Word Count: 2.638

Previously    Masterlist

A/N: I’m so sorry for the delay guys. I posted a few days ago that I was going through something and just needed to leave and take some time for myself. BUT I’m back and working on the stories! SO here you go! Chapter 7!!! 

Enjoy!

Two weeks after waking up and finding out about her parents, Y/N was starting to feel a little better. New Year’s came and gone; her grandparents almost never left her side. Sadly, Thomas, Alexander and her friends had to go back to school. Bringing cards, gifts and flowers each time they were allowed to visit. Mostly from her classmates, her cheer squad and her teachers. Something that brought a smile to her face, what didn’t make Y/N happy was the homework.

Late one afternoon, with notebooks, pens, textbooks and her iPad around her. Y/N felt like her head was going to explode. Her leg was itching and aching. Her head always felt heavy, her chest and ribs hurt. Yet, Y/N never asked for more pain medication. She knew what could happen if she had too much, being addicted was not a good sign for her. So instead she dealt through the pain.

“Hi sweety…” a female voice came from the doorway, Y/N looking up and grinning at the sight of Jane Jefferson and Martha Washington standing there.

“We came to bring you some homemade food… the boys should be here soon. I was visiting Jane here and came along to see how you’re doing.” Martha spoke and walked over, only to frown at the amount of homework Y/N had spread around the hospital bed.

“Now, I know that all this can wait…” but Y/N cut Martha off.

“It can’t… not if I want to get into a good college!” she frowned and looked down. “Julliard and the other Art Schools won’t accept me now that I can’t dance anymore.” She rolled her eyes and flopped back on the pillows behind her.

“Hey, none of that now.” Jane came over and both Martha and her started to clean up the schoolwork. “Thomas tells me you are one of the smartest students in that school. I’m sure no one will blame you for not putting your schoolwork as a priority right now.”

Once everything was cleaned up, Y/N felt like she could breathe again. “I just…” but she trailed off and closed her eyes. “I couldn’t attend the funeral… I get out tomorrow. I have this thing on my leg and stitches and I’m ugly and I just miss them so much!” she cried as tears started to slip down her cheeks.

Both women looked at each other and frowned before sitting on either side of Y/N, both trying to comfort the crying girl. Jane even mentioning for Thomas to get back out when he arrived at the door.

“You aren’t alone. OK?” Martha said softly, “I know for a fact that Jane here will allow you to go over to her home whenever you feel like it. My home is always opened for you as well, sweetie.” She whispered. “I knew your parents; they would have preferred it this way than having to bury their child. There is no greater pain for a parent than to have to say goodbye to their child. You will have so much support. George and I, Jane and her husband. You have your soulmate, Alexander and all your friends…”

“We almost lost you as well, Y/N.” Jane added now. “We only know this because your mark appeared on Thomas… both he and Alexander almost broke down.” She kissed the girls head softly. “You will never be alone. OK? We will all help you whenever you need. We’re all here for you.”

As she cried softly, Y/N nodded at their words and knew it would take some time, but she would be surrounded by people to help her.

By the time Y/N had calmed down a good amount, the two women left, and Thomas walked in with a small smile on his face. Y/N fixed herself on the bed and made space for her boyfriend to join her. Once he got on the bed, Y/N found herself cuddling with the man and closed her eyes.

“Your friends said they’ll give us about ten minutes before they barge in here…” Thomas said against her hair and smiled. The words causing Y/N to smile sadly.

She didn’t speak, feeling like she would cry if she even tried to speak. Instead she closed her eyes and let out a small sigh. Eyes closed and Y/N took in the silence and the cologne Thomas was wearing.

The scent being one that could always comfort her.

“I don’t wanna go home…” she finally managed to speak, her voice betraying her and cracking in the middle of the short sentence.

“I can’t go back there; I can’t be in the house without them… or with my grandparents… they’re old! They need to rest and look after themselves. I’m about to be eighteen! I can figure things out on my own…” her voice got softer at the end and she sighed.

“If you don’t want to go back home, no one can make you. Alexander has been staying with John ever since the accident.” Y/N felt his lips brush against her forehead as he spoke. “You can come stay with me and my parents. They won’t mind. They love you. There’s Mr. and Mrs. Washington. You know how much they love all of us over…” but Y/N cut him off.

“The last thing I want to do, is be a burden for anyone.” She snorted. “Fucking look at me, Thomas! I’m black, blue and stitched! I died for like a whole minute! I’m going to be walking funny, I can’t dance anymore! I can’t practice violin until my hand stops aching.” She almost snapped at her boyfriend. The two now sitting up on the bed. “I can’t even study, cause I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on in class and no one to explain this shit to me. Alex and I have to bury our parents!

“I… I can’t… I don’t want to get in a car anymore! Or look at any bright lights!” she blinked a few times. Trying to stop the tears. “The doctor came in a few days ago… early in the morning to check me out. Flashed a damn light in my eye to test whatever the fuck they were testing, and I panicked! I saw the car coming and I heard the screams!”

Little did Y/N know, her brother and friends were outside the room listening in. Once things were quiet, they entered slowly.

The distraction helped. Alex saw Thomas standing beside the bed, Y/N sitting up looking stressed.

“Someone needs a sponge bath.” Hercules said with a sad smile, thankfully his words made a small smile appear on the girls face.

“God no…” she huffed. “What’s under this gown… not pretty” Y/N added a bit softer and looked down at her hands. A needle still stuck in her hand, tape and a bandage over it. Her other hand was bandaged up as well. Her body was still healing, her ribs mostly.

The cast she wore on her leg went an inch above her knee and down to her feet. Only her toes peeking out.

“I spoke to the nurse… we can wheel you around today…” Alexander spoke and that’s how the group spent the rest of the visitation time. Wheeling Y/N around the hospital, finding a garden and talking nonsense.

In the end, Y/N took up Thomas’ offer in going home with him. Her grandparents had been present at the time, having come around to visit her. They understood and allowed it.

That night, being the last night in the hospital. Y/N fell asleep somewhat easily, of course with some help of the antidepressants that had an extra kick to help with the anxiety she felt and the sleeplessness.

By the next morning, with the help from a nurse -much to her slight embarrassment- Y/N got changed into very loose sweatpants, sock and shoe on her bare foot and a long sleeve, loose shirt. Foregoing the bra, Y/N didn’t want to wear the thing and have it irritating her aching chest and back.

Messaging Thomas, she grinned at their little interaction. Y/N’s grandparents had signed her out and all she had to do was wait for her boyfriend to come. The room she had been staying in was bare once again, the decorations her friends had put up was taken down now, presents safely in her bag. 

The ring, the purple two hearted Dimond with a silver band. It was safely on her right-hand ring finger. Reminding her of the promise Thomas had made her when he presented the ring to Y/N.

Y/N sat there looking at the tiny ring inside the box in shock. “Thomas… this isn’t some kind of proposal….” But he chuckled and cut her off.

“No princess, nothing like that. We aren’t close to being ready for marriage.” He teased softly and took her hands in his. “This is just… a promise. That I’ll stick by your side. Thick and thin, I’ll always be here for you. OK? No matter what happens, and not just because we’re soulmates. I liked you even before we found out… finding out you were my other half, the girl I’m destined to be with? That’s fate.”

His words brough tears to her eyes, Y/N feeling like she spent a lot of her time crying. Only this time, the tears were ones of happiness.

“You know I’ve always been some kind of asshole. To Alex, to the other kids at school and the girls. When I got back from Paris, and the mark appeared on me. I doubted I would ever find the girl who was supposed to be with me. Then there you were, always running from me.” He laughed slightly. “I fell for you instantly, the first time you called me out on my bullshit and defended your brother. I thought god was punishing me, making me fall for someone as amazing as you and you not being my soulmate... but I must have done something right to be able to spend my life with you.”

Pulling Thomas in and pressing their lips together, the kiss was soft and sweet.

“Thank you… god I love you Thomas Jefferson.” Y/N spoke against his lips and held him close to her. The couple spending that night holding the other while the nurses allowed Thomas to spend the night. Having seen the interaction between the two.

Snapping back to the present, Y/N smiled and brushed her messy, dirty hair away from her face. Other than the horrible time trying to shower in the bathroom she had access to. Y/N was ready to head home…

It was than that she remembered she wouldn’t be going home. She was going to live with Thomas and his family. With a sigh, eyes closed. Y/N never noticed someone entering her room.

“Hey sweetheart…”

Looking over towards the door, Y/N smiled at Thomas standing there before rolling her eyes at the wheelchair brought in. Of course, Y/N already knew she would have to be pushed out in the wheelchair. Doesn’t mean she was happy about it.

“Ready to go?” he asked and stepped closer, grabbing her things so Y/N wouldn’t have to worry about anything.

With a nod, Y/N tried to hide how anxious she was feeling about getting in a car again. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Using the crutches, she was given, Y/N was able to sit down on the wheelchair and allowed Thomas to place a knitted hat on the top of her head before wrapping his scarf around her. Ignoring the unamused look Y/N was giving him.

“Just wanna make sure you don’t catch a cold.” He grinned cheekily at her and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at him.

Soon enough, she was being pushed out of the hospital building and after blinking a few times, trying to get used to the brightness of the sun hitting the snow. Y/N looked at the car and tried to calm herself down.

‘You’ll be alright… Thomas knows what he’s doing. He won’t let anything happen to you…’ Y/N thought as the wheelchair stopped next to the car and there was her boyfriend helping her into the passenger seat.

Bidding the nurse goodbye, the door was closed, and the seatbelt was on. Suddenly it all felt too real. Closing her eyes and taking deep breaths, Y/N softly spoke to herself. “In through the nose……. Out through the mouth.”

“You ready?”  Y/N heard Thomas ask and she just nodded her head. Refusing to open her eyes, though she didn’t need to look at Thomas to know he was staring at her.

As the car started to move, Y/N felt herself get choked up, her throat and chest starting to ache. She felt like she was starting to drown, she could barely hear the radio that had been on. Only when she felt a hand grasp hers, did she open her eyes and glance over at Thomas. Not noticing the tears that were slowly making its way down her cheeks.

“I got you princess…  I’ll go slow if that makes you more comfortable. OK?” Y/N heard Thomas say and she just nodded. Focusing on her boyfriend in the drivers seat.

Taking in his features, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, the beard that was growing and obviously hasn’t been taken care of in a while. His hair was tied up in a bun, reminding me of Lafayette. Chuckling softly at the thought, Y/N wiped at her eyes before lifting his hand up and softly brushing her lips over his knuckles. Giving it a soft squeeze.

“You doing ok, princess?” she heard him ask and Y/N didn’t speak, just gave a hum in response.

It felt like she was in the car for hours, her anchor for not falling into a panic attack being was holding Thomas’ hand. Hearing him softly talk to her and knowing that he never took his eyes off the road. Not once.

By the time they finally made it to the Jefferson’s home. Y/N allowed Thomas to carry her inside, not wanting her to end up slipping on the ice on the ground with her crutches. Being placed on the couch, Y/N couldn’t help but smile at her boyfriend. Watching as he rushed back outside to grab all her bags. By the time he returned, yelling that he was going to place her things in the room she would be staying in. Y/N shook her head and chuckled before lifting her leg up onto the couch and got comfortable.

Eyeing the ring on her finger, Y/N couldn’t help but take a picture of it and post it on Instagram. Giggling at the comment John put, she wanted to mess with Alex, so Y/N quickly got a hashtag going and laughed when comments started rolling in.

“Did you really make the same comment twice?” Y/N softly spoke when she saw Thomas come back down the stairs with his phone in his hand. A large smile on his face he nodded.

“Wanted to irritate your brother, and it worked.” Was his response, making Y/N softly laugh.

Fixing herself, letting Thomas sit behind her so her back was to his chest. The two watched some baking show on the TV before Y/N started to laugh and showed Thomas that Mr. Washington and Aaron also commented.

The rest of the day, with take out on the coffee table the couple spent watching TV and enjoying the silence. Y/N ended up falling asleep with a blanket over her body and Thomas with his arm around his girl as his head was tipped back against the couch cushions. That was how Thomas’ parents found the two teenagers when they got home that night. Making the two adults smile and let them sleep, seeing as they both looked comfortable enough.

Don’t forget to Like, Reblog and send Feedback! My asks are also opened and so is my IM! Much love from me to you!!  ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

Tags: @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @exquisite-dreamers @ballerinafairyprincess @thefandomgirl03 @criminallyhamilton @1elysium @slytherinsssss @youtxbemusic @i-honestly-dont-know-anymore @sabbrriiinnaa @yes-i-know-im-weird-blog @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @wtfevenismypage @namethathasnotbeentaken @cubedtriangle @a-hopeless-fan @namelesslosers @randomhunam @i-know-i-can @ryjo-92 @lunariasilver @mydearestlaurens @meganlpie​ @the-baby-bookworm​

Forever Tags: @itsjube @theroadtoeldorado @rottendaisies​

[laurelleghuleh]

OCAF | Ch. 9 “Wounds”

Warnings: read the masterlist first and check Alec’s chart

Songs: “The One That Got Away (Acoustic Version)” by Katy Perry, “Hurt” by Christina Aguilera, “Carousel” by Melanie Martinez.

DAPHNE’S POV

˜ FLASHBACK ˜

The first time Alec arrived at the brothel he was just 15. His father wanted to introduce him to his job, to secure his position and future. Very thoughtful of his, if it wasn’t for the fact that he had just brought a little lamb in the lion’s cage.

Alec was already tall for his age, but he kept growing in height until he was almost 6’0. And yet his body stayed pretty slender and delicate. It quite matched his sweet features and manners. Alec was the purest soul I’ve ever met in my entire, albeit short, life.

At first, he just had to take care of the few horses and carriages the Master possessed. Animals didn’t quite like the Underground’s environment, so Alec and his father were the only ones allowed to go on the surface to go for a ride or escort the Master somewhere.

He wasn’t authorized to talk to us or even enter the brothel: us girls were off-limits. But, eventually, we found our ways to meet him. There weren’t many nice and young people around the building. And as good-looking as him.

Nina and I weren’t on the same page about Alec. She used to bully him all the time, calling him whiner or pussy. On the contrary, I’ve always known he was one of a kind. And to be honest, he was so nice that even the Master started to like him and became more indulgent with him. That’s when he softened and I formally met Alec for the first time.

I remember that one of my first training with my Master’s goons didn’t end well for me. I had bruises and wounds all over my body and face, and I couldn’t even stand up properly. I don’t know what I was expecting, they had never been the kindest.

However, long story short, that day I was a literal mess and as I was trying to pull myself together, I crawled to the nearest place, looking for some water and rest: the stable.

As soon as Alec saw me, he ran towards me and started stuttering anxious and incoherent phrases. He took care of me and since that day, after each training he would have waited for me to spend some time together, talking, playing with the horses, walking around the building, or just enjoying our company, in silence.

We tried our best to not get caught as we treasured those moments together just for ourselves.

“So?? Did that scrawny ass boy have the courage to kiss you this time?” said Nina, when I entered the kitchen. “What the fuck are you talking about, Nina??” I promptly replied. “Daphne! Pretty please, stop swearing…” complained Abigail “Well, did he proposed???” then added full of curiosity. “WHAAAAT?? EXCUSE ME???” I shouted.

“Oh, c’mon Daphne. it’s so obvious that even Sae-jin got it!” screamed Ruth walking in the room. “Don’t pull me in. I don’t give a damn about what she does with that poor boy…” calmly stated Sae-jin, leaving the room and dragging away with her Eve, who as usual was not understanding much.

Sae-jin was always so avoidant. But how could I blame her? The girls could get pretty annoying sometimes. Well, always.

“Ok, now I’m losing my patience…” I sighed “You’re totally misunderstanding the situation. Alec and I are just good friends” I declared. “I couldn’t care less how you call each other. Friends, brothers, potatoes…” started again Nina, now reaching for Ruth, who instantly intercepted her gesture and sprinted to sit on her lap.

Nina was always too casual when it came to those things. Whenever we were alone - which happened very frequently given that we were almost inseparable - she used to tell me: “They told us what to do with our bodies, but this…” she pointed at my head “… and this…” and then at my heart “are only ours, or of those to whom we choose to dedicate them”.

I knew she was talking from experience. Among us, she was the best at faking the whole thing, the clients loved her, but she was nobody’s property but Ruth’s. And vice versa. “Remember doll, loving and fucking are two different things… Well, if you find someone who can give you both, then… Lucky you” and then laughed out loud.

I never fully grasped what she meant. At that time, I knew so little about relationships, love, desires, but I wanted to know more, to learn more about myself, my true self, the one I couldn’t talk to anyone about.

Eventually, I figured it out in the oddest way: the thing I despised more than anything else, sex, taught me the most about the others, myself, and my relationship with others. So little could be hidden to two naked bodies, two stripped minds. But that’s a lesson I learned only once out of th brothel, years later.

But still, at that time, love was only a mysterious word in Martha’s stupid fairytales, in Chadia’s past affairs she used to tell us about, and in Nina’s mischievous hints.

“Girls… Geez, we didn’t kiss! And never we will!” I stated, getting nervous. “Ok, one more week. I bet tonight tips” whispered Ruth in Nina’s ear. “Deal” said Nina. Abigail chuckled watching my frustrated reaction. Those were our little innocent moments. Just the calm before the storm.

Eventually, that day arrived. I knew Alec had a crush on me, but I always avoided thinking about it too much, until that day. I was hanging the laundry on the rooftop of the building when Alec came to me mumbling some nonsense. “Alec, are you high or something?” I teased him. He frowned making a hilarious puppy face. He always looked so innocent even when he was angry.

“N-no. No, please Daphne, let me finish” he said. “Boy, you didn’t even start” I laughed. He couldn’t stand my attitude anymore, so he rushed towards me, making his way through the bright blankets swaying in the air. And there, hidden by their motion, he stole me a kiss.

He immediately took a step back. One kiss gave him enough courage to say: “I like you, Daphne. I like you a lot. I liked you since the first day I saw you through the window. And I think I’ll like you forever…” he said all in one breath.

I blinked, unable to say a single word. I knew I liked him too, but I could already tell the difference between our feelings. And I believe he knew that too. Since I couldn’t stand lying to him, I didn’t say anything and I just hugged him tightly.

I knew that wasn’t love, but Alec always made me feel safe and understood, so I swallowed my indecision and gave it a try. I was so young and naive.

I used to sneak out at night, climbing down my window, to meet him at the stable. I was always the one who initiated every make-out session and Alec seemed to appreciate it, but he was already content with my presence, he simply enjoyed my company. Instead, I craved to be touched by him, by someone who cared about me, for once. I craved it like I was starving and avidly trying to figure out something, someone. Probably myself.

We successfully kept it on the down-low for more than a year. When I turned 20, he surprised me with a gift: a knife, with a capital D he personally engraved on the hilt. I couldn’t stop thanking him, when, at some point, he came up with “I know you can handle yourself, but I want you to be safe. Whatever happens”.

“Alec, you’re such a party pooper. Don’t be so dramatic, I’ll be fiiiine. But still thank you so-“. “No, Daphne, you don’t get it” he interrupted me “Trust me. Things are taking a turn for the worst. The Master is getting himself into… into some deep shit”. “Alec Reed. Did you just say the s-word??” I sarcastically added. But his face was so serious I almost got scared.

“Things are about to go down, Daphne. Please, carry this thing with you… Oh, I almost forgot about it. Here, I also made this” he said handing me a short leather belt with a little pocket designed for the knife. “You can put it around your…” he coughed “…thigh”.

His little speech literally gave me chills and I desperately wanted to change the subject, so I seized the moment. “Oh, well… since you thought about this belt on my thigh…” I seductively said, raising my skirt up, exposing my leg “…Why don’t you show me how you imagined it” I suggested.

He almost choked at my words, causing me to laugh out loud. I hugged him once again, thinking that the heavens had sent him to me. I kissed him on the cheek, thanking him again, and then I rushed back inside since our little time was quickly coming to an end. But his words stuck inside my head for days, weeks, months, until his prophecy took place.

My last year at the brothel was nothing but a sequence of tragedies. One day Eve found Chadia’s lifeless body and after a couple of months, Sae-jin and her lover, Colton, were brutally murdered by the Master, who found out about their complot against him. Tabitha was given as wife (well, sold) to an unknown client and at some point, Abigail started to act quite strangely around me, almost avoiding me.

That chain of catastrophes ended with my worst nightmare: Alec’s execution.

One night, after climbing back to my window, I found two guards waiting for me in my room. One of them quickly grabbed a fist of my hair, shoved me down to the stairs and then dragged me to the back of the brothel. And there I saw them.

Alec was on his knees and around him stood other guards in a semi-circle. I tried to call Alec but he didn’t seem to even notice me. His eyes were fixed on the ground, his hands behind his back and his body shaking. “Alec, what’s going on…” I murmured again.

“Oh babygirl, you know what is going on…” my Master’s voice echoed behind me. His filthy hands caressed my skin, from my collarbone to my chin, as he spoke again “Boy, look up, look up at me when I'm talking”. Alec immediately obeyed. His face was swollen and his eyes glassy and red. “Alec…” I whispered in disbelief, shaking my head.

“See? You see this?” The Master said brushing his index along my cheek and then fiercely grabbing my jaw “This is my property… Everything here is my property… I trusted you boy. But I think you’ve bitten off more than you can chew”. “No… No... Please no” I whispered as tears streamed down my face. He was right: I knew what was going on.

The Master nodded and all his little dogs moved quickly, obeying him. A second just before that, Alec’s lips moved to tell me something that I wasn’t quick enough to catch. Soon the Master’s goons were over him, ruthlessly punching and kicking him.

I started to scream and as soon as I tried to move forwards the Master fiercely grabbed me, blocking my arms behind my back and holding my jaw in Alec’s direction so tightly he was bruising my skin. I fidgeted in his grip and while I was sobbing uncontrollably, he whispered in my ear “Oh no no no, babygirl. I want you to watch this veeeery carefully… I want you to learn a little lesson today… Nobody touches what’s mine”.

I couldn’t stay still in the Master’s hands. I couldn’t stand that view anymore but he was so massive and definitely stronger than me at that time. On the corner of my eye, on the left, I saw a couple of other guards holding a man: Alec’s father. His face was stoic, his body firm. He didn’t even notice me: he was "watching carefully, trying to learn a little lesson that day".

When they were done with Alec, the Master let go of me and my body fell heavily on the ground, exhausted. Alec was left on the ground, lifeless and alone. His dad immediately walked away as I crawled to Alec's body, calling his name softly “Alec… Alec… “. My hands stood in front of his black and blue face. I didn’t dare to even touch him like I was in front of something unreal.

Words seemed to get trapped in my throat and my mind completely blanked out. I don’t know how much time passed, but at a certain point, a sweet voice whispered in my ear “Let’s go, doll…”. I immediately sensed Nina’s strong hands lifting me and carrying me up to my room. I desperately clung to her body as we made our way back into the building.

That night I did learn a lesson: The Master would have paid for all of that. But revenge is a dish best served cold and the night I escaped from the brothel I left my sister Abigail Alec’s knife: just one knife wouldn’t have been enough for my plan.

˜

Trying to not think about Levi’s lips on me was impossible. Even if I promised to myself to cut him out of my mind, that night I allowed myself to repeat that scene, that feeling several times again in my head until I went numb and fell asleep. I felt helpless against those thoughts and I let them get the better of me. Just for tonight…I thought.

Another day came and I told myself that that fantasy wouldn’t have left my room, it would have died there within its walls. As soon as I see him again, let’s make things clear before anything else happens. Confident, I went straight down to the cafeteria, but Levi was nowhere to be found.

On the right corner of my eye, I sensed Mikasa, shily waving at me, and Sasha energetically gesturing me to join them for breakfast. “Where is Eren?” I said at some point. Well, where is Levi? I actually thought. “I was thinking the same thing…” mumbled Mikasa. “Maybe he’s just with the captain and his squad, or with Hange” suggested Armin, trying to comfort her.

I decided to use that spare time to practice my future speech in my mind. "Levi, let’s stop making out in the kitchen. Ok, thank you for your kind attention, bye". No, this is absolutely ridiculous. I sound like I want to make out somewhere else. Oh, breakfast is over. And as I got up from the table I kept thinking of some other smarter alternatives.

"Levi, don’t you ever kiss me again". Are you sure you want to say that, Daphne? asked that annoying voice in my head. Sure. Absolutely. "Levi, don’t come closer to me ever again ". Okay, maybe that’s a bit much. "Levi, stop...". And as my feet unconsciously followed the others into the hallway and my mind wandered looking for other excuses, I sensed a presence behind me and a hand grabbing my left arm.

Then, suddenly, a warm breath tickled my ear, saying: "When you’re done with the lesson, meet me at the stable. I’ll wait for you". Levi. I instantly froze, unable to take another step forward, and my lips slightly parted, as if I had just seen a ghost.

As soon as I felt that presence moving away from me, a cold shiver ran down my back. He never failed to make me feel so fucking helpless. I turned around and saw the Captain join the rest of the squad, going in the opposite direction. Among the soldiers, I saw Eren, who waved at me and thankfully woke me from that momentary paralysis.

"When you’re done with the lesson, meet me at the stable. I’ll wait for you. When you’re done with the lesson, meet me at the stable. I’ll wait for you. Meet me at the stable. I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait for you". Stop, stop, stop. STOP. This must end now.

When we arrived in the classroom, we were greeted by a couple of team leaders standing in front of a huge green board. A few steps from them Commander Erwin Smith was waiting for us all to take the seat. As soon as he got our full attention, he started talking "Cadets, welcome. Before class starts, I wanted to carve out a moment to talk to you".

I looked around quickly. Everyone seemed completely fascinated by Erwin’s words. The only thing I could think of, looking at him, was a huge fucking obstacle, the wall standing between me and my true freedom. "The next expedition will start in less than 48 hours. I hope no one wants to pull back at this point" he lightly laughed, looking at the other team leaders.

"I hope not... especially since I hope that each of you will understand your invaluable value. Each of you is a key piece in this plan. Each of you is a key piece in the victory of mankind over titans. Your life and death will have meaning far beyond human understanding. Sacrifice your hearts for mankind".

I only needed those 10 minutes in his presence to truly understand Commander Smith. It wasn’t just his always right choice of words, his statuesque physique, or the charm of his reputation. No. It was his aura. It reminded me of the same feeling Levi gave me. They were men of power, because they emanated that power, in their gestures, in their gaze, even in the tone of their voice.

At that point, if Commander Smith had ordered me to make him soup, I would have made it on the spot. "Well, my time is up. See you at the departure, soldiers," he said, looking at us with severity and pride, and then, after our salute, he left.

Shortly after, the squad leader Ness took the floor. He was in charge of making a general explanation for the expedition. He clarified the main goals, the equipment and the distinction of the different colors of the signal flares, and other basic rules. In the afternoon, the various units would have more information from their captains on their position and strategy.

I did my best to concentrate but Levi’s words still echoed in my head. "I’ll wait for you". Commander Erwin had not hesitated to mention our possible - and statistical - death during the mission. If I don’t want to die, I’d better listen more carefully.

Wrong move. Erwin’s speech had a whole other heaviness than Levi’s vague hint. It was life or death, and at that point, I no longer knew which one of those damn two was driving me nuts.

After the lesson, I immediately went to the stable. Look at you, what are you? His puppy? So obedient... Look at you wagging your tail... teased me a voice in my head. I wanted to confront Levi about the other night, now more than ever.

Once at the threshold of the stable I couldn't see anyone and so, I entered the shed starting the monologue that I had prepared before.

"Look, Levi, I don’t have much time to waste... Levi. Where the hell are you... Levi? Are you here?" I have a bad feeling about this. While I was still calling his name, at a certain point someone called mine: "Daphne?". That was definitely not Levi.

Eren jumped out of a corner and I instantly froze. Then he added, "Here you are! We were waiting for you," and so I turned around. Behind my back, the whole - I repeat, the whole - Levi Squad was preparing their horses. Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Among them, Levi was staring at me with his hands on the hips and the smug look of someone who seemed to have just won a bet or something. As if that wasn’t enough, in addition to that temporary shame, seeing Levi after that kiss was just torture. I could still feel his hands and the icy peppermint aftertaste of his breath all over me.

Once I found a crumb of courage, I managed to simulate a shy salute.

"So how did it go with Commander Smith? Did he scare you enough?" Petra asked me, laughing. "Yep" I replied. "C’mon, get a move on," Levi said harshly. I looked at him, quite confused. “I need to talk to you all about the expedition," he added.

"Oh, wait, Captain! Before we go..." Petra started talking again "Here, Daphne, from now on this is yours!". She handed me a green cape with the wings of freedom on the back. Once I wore it, Petra said: "Wow, green is definitely your color, Daphne!"

I looked around and immediately saw Gunther saying, almost blushing, "Indeed. It looks really good on you, Daphne". Then again, I felt that familiar feeling of being watched intensely. I slightly turned my head to intercept Levi’s reaction, who was checking me from head to toe. I don’t know what I’d give to know what’s on his mind sometimes...

"Yeah, sure" Oruo muttered, rolling his eyes and jumping on the saddle. Eld gave me a nod and followed his comrade. The others joined them and then I heard a trot getting closer behind me. Levi was walking towards me with two horses beside him.

Handing me the reins of my horse, he silently approached me, with his usual composed expression. So, I started to say, "Look, Levi, first...", but he immediately interrupted me: "What is it? Were you expecting a romantic rendezvous with me in the stable?"

"No" I quickly answered in a frustrated tone "First of all, I’m sorry for calling you by your name… I didn’t know-“. “I couldn’t care less” he interrupted me and then walked away. “HEY! I’M NOT DONE TALKING!” I shouted back at him. He immediately turned around, looking at me wide-eyed, quite surprised by my tone.

“Secondly…” I coughed “I wanted to talk to you about what happened last night in the kitc-". But Levi didn’t, again, let me finish the sentence, and getting practically under my nose he said: "I think you were pretty clear about it. We shouldn’t have kissed, right?".

I didn’t know what to say and Levi knew perfectly well how uncomfortable he was making me. He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as if he wanted a quick answer from me. (Poorly) faking a bold attitude, I gave him a wide smile as if to confirm his insinuation and so I began to exit the stable.

But just when I was a few inches away from him, Levi started talking again: "I’m sorry Daphne, I really can’t do this". I couldn’t tell by his tone if he was sad, serious, or almost angry when he said those words. "Me neither, Captain," I told him, showing off the most impassive face I could do, and so I went out, without looking back.

When we reached the others, we set off, riding for a good half an hour. Once we reached an isolated place, we got off the horse and Eld began to explain to us the strategy for the expedition. Our position would have been in the rear. Our only goal was to protect Eren.

"I have reason to believe that Commander Smith is hiding something from us... like a second target of the mission," Eld suggested. "Are you doubting the Commander?" Oruo tried to insinuate. "I’m just saying, there’s a good chance this mission is just a test. A simulation to see if it is possible to reach the district of Shiganshina" Eld declared, instantly interrupting him.

While the rest of the squad seemed to discuss it without much concern, Eren and I were visibly confused. So, I turned around to look for Levi. I needed some reassurance. Meanwhile, he had been on the sidelines, caressing his horse’s mane, enjoying the light breeze of that day. He caught me staring, turned his face and with his lips mimed a "What are you looking at?". This man...

Soon after, Eld specified to Eren and me that those instructions were absolutely confidential and no one outside of our squad should know Eren’s position. We both responded with a firm nod.

Back at the base, Levi coldly dismissed us saying: "Well, that’s all for today. If you want to continue your training, the courtyard is at your disposal. Tomorrow, enjoy your day off. We will meet the day after tomorrow, at dawn, before departure. You can go now"

I looked at Levi one last time. So that’s it? That’s really it? I thought.

That night and the whole next day I did my best to escape Levi. At meals, I tried to avoid his table, and I dedicated the day before the expedition trying to make be more friendly with the other soldiers. "Be more sociable," you said to me that night, right? So, I’ll do my best, Captain.

After dinner, I was invited by Eren to spend some time together with the other before the departure. The concern for the next expedition was getting heavier and the mere thought of having to socialize more hourse did nothing but make the situation worse. So, I went to the kitchen to get a cup of chamomile tea. I needed to calm down.

LEVI’S POV

I started to believe that castle was haunted for real. That damn kitchen reminded me of those few but indelible memories with Daphne... and yet after a restless wandering in the halls I found myself there again, on the doorstep looking at her as she stared out of the window.

I watched her take the pot from the stove and pour it somewhere, maybe into the cup she supposedly had prepared before. I started to make my way into the room, trying to come up with something reasonable to say to her.

As soon as I got close to her, Daphne turned around. "Captain" she saluted me coldly and then left without adding anything else, holding in her hands the fuming cup. Say something, you idiot, I ordered myself. But nothing came out.

As soon as I realized I was alone in the room a growl of frustration slipped out of my mouth. Damn it. But maybe it was a sign for both of us to forget about what happened between us. Nothing. It meant nothing.

Then, looking up from the ground, I noticed something strange on the cabinet: another fuming cup, placed on a tiny tissue, on which my name had been written.

[opheliasbrokenmind]

faith - tommy shelby

my school is starting in five days and i feel sad for that, but this girl here working hard for you y'know. this one is for lovely @justanothershelby it was on my drafts for a while and i finally managed to finish it. enjoy reading and don't forget to give me some feedback, ily and im always open for requests 💛

It was a rainy night when you met with him, Thomas Shelby. It was a nice February day in 1914, the war hasn’t started yet and your friend Ada invited you to home, she wanted you to meet with her family. You already knew Polly and Finn but never seen her infamous brothers. You were agemates with her and John was two years older than you, so when you saw him the two of you immediately became friends. Arthur was much older than you, and he treated you like you were his own sister. Unlike his brothers, Tommy was different. He wasn’t at home that day and the rain come down hard, Polly insisted you stay there for the night.

You woke up at three in the morning and walked downstairs for a glass of water. You saw him when you came to the kitchen and he turned his head to you, ‘Who the hell are you?’ He whispered and walked to you, the moonlight was making him visible and you saw the bloodstains on his face and white shirt, he was also soaked to the skin. You stepped back, afraid of him. ‘I’m Ada’s friend, y/n Laurent and I assume that you are her brother Thomas.’ He came closer to you and stopped, you heard his heavy breaths, it was like he was hurt. ‘It’s nice to meet you, finally.’ You looked at him, ‘You’re wounded, aren’t you?’

‘Just a few scrapes, no big deal.’ You sighed, ‘Don’t lie, let’s see if I can help you.’ You said and poured yourself a glass of water, leaving Tommy to sit on the chair. He turned on the light and you were able to see his wounds this time. You found a clean cloth and held it under the water, ‘Shouldn’t you be using alcohol for disinfection?’ You walked to him and started to clean his hands, ‘I read somewhere that the alcohol delaying the healings, not sure though.’ You murmured softly and took his hand in yours, looking at his wounded knuckles without knowing he was watching your face. You cleaned his hands silently, washing the cloth once they are done and came back to him.

He groaned when you touched the cut above his right eyebrow, ‘Shh, stay quiet or they’ll wake up.’ Thomas nodded and let you wipe the blood from his face. ‘Thank you.’ He smiled a little and you smiled back, ‘Everyone would do the same.’ He held your arm, ‘Believe me, they wouldn’t. Don’t tell anyone what you did, alright?’ You frowned, ‘Why? Where were you and who did this to you?’ Thomas sighed, ‘It was for the family business and I’m okay, I don’t want them to worry about me.’ He looked directly in your eyes, ‘It’ll be our little secret, promise me.’ You gave up when he looked at you like that, his eyes were so innocent. ‘I promise, you better dry off if you don’t want to be sick.’ 

‘Hmm, how should I do this?’ He smiled playfully and you rolled your eyes, ‘How about using a towel for your hair and changing your clothes?’ Thomas unbuttoned his shirt slowly, watching your cheeks heating and he laughed. ‘I didn’t mean this... I should probably go to sleep now, goodnight Thomas.’ He nodded, ‘Yes, of course. Goodnight, y/n.’ You went upstairs, to the room you were staying and after a few minutes he came in, ‘What are you doing here?’ He cracked a smile, ‘It’s my room. But don’t worry, I came for pyjamas.’ Thomas picked the clothes and turned to you, ‘If you sit by the window, you can hear the raindrops. It’s a beautiful night if you like this weather.’

You hesitated for a second then spoke, ‘Care to join me? You can wear them here, I’ll close my eyes.’ He smiled while he changed and told you can open your eyes. You two sat on the cushion in front of the window and listened to the rain, none of you speaking. You broke the silence, ‘You do this often?’ Thomas watched the raindrops, ‘Only when I can’t sleep.’ You nodded, ‘And this happens a lot I guess.’ He didn’t say anything and you continued, ‘Ada says you always think and don’t tell her what I’ll say next but she really loves you, cares about you.’ A real smile appeared on his face, reaching to his eyes. It was the warmest smile you’ve ever seen in your life.

You were lucky because not many people had a chance to see that smile. The life erased it relentlessly, turning him to a man who hides his feelings and shows no emotion. That night you stayed up together and didn’t talk much but you enjoyed each other’s company. In the morning you acted like you didn’t meet and Ada introduced you to his brother. Thomas thought you two had a connection but he saw you with John and how he smiled at you even though he was with Martha. He thought his brother liked you so he didn’t make a move on you, John wasn’t that old for you but he was seven years older than you. Although, that didn’t stop him from having feelings for you. 

John and you were nothing more than friends, both of you loved each other as only friends and you loved Martha and their children. You always got along well with him and he loved you like you were his sister. Thomas didn’t notice that and buried his love to his heart. The months passed quickly and you warmed to family, loving all of them. One day the boys came home, told they signed up for the war. ‘W-what? Please tell me it’s a joke John, tell me you won’t leave us!’ John didn’t answer and you found yourself crying and looking at Thomas, ‘Tom, you’re not going, are you?’ He smiled a little and came closer to you, ‘Well, we’re going, love. To fight for our country and protect you.’ He embraced you in a hug, feeling your warm tears on his white shirt.

‘You can protect us here! Please, Tommy. Please don’t go.’ You cried softly and let him hold you, ‘We’ll come back quickly, you won’t even notice my absence.’ You raised your head and looked at him, ‘You think it’ll be that easy for me, that I won’t miss you? Christ, Tommy.’ You pushed him, leaving a speechless Thomas behind you. He stood there more than half an hour and finally decided to go after you, he never felt that way. Whenever he needed you, you were always there for him but this time was different. You didn’t want to lose him, didn’t want him to go and leave you behind. You were terrified, what if he never comes back again, from the war? To be honest, he didn’t. He left a part of himself there and never be the same.

Thomas found you at your home and your mother let him in, knowing who he was and what he meant to you. He knocked on your door, ‘I don’t want to talk, mom.’ Your voice cracked and he slowly opened the door, ‘It’s me.’ You were shocked, staring at him with a blank face. He closed the door behind him and walked to your bed, that blue eyes of him never leaving yours. ‘Why? Why did you come?’ You asked as he sat next to you, of course, he saw the tears and brought his hand to your face, wiping them away. ‘I wanted you to stay but you left the house. I know how you feel now, y/n. We h-’ You cut him off, ‘Don’t tell me you know how I feel, you can’t understand. You have no idea about how I feel!’

‘Then let me know, tell me.’ His voice was so soft and you let your guard off, ‘I don’t want to lose you to a fucking war, Tommy. I know I’m being selfish but I don’t want you to leave. What if... What if you don’t come back? How can I live without you?’ He was surprised but pulled you to himself and embraced you in a hug, ‘You’re not going to lose me, you hear that? I’ll come back to you, love. I’ll come back and I’ll be by your side, always.’ He whispered, not to only make you relax, also himself. He wanted to believe the fact that you’ll be together and happy in the end. Life had other plans, but both of you were unaware of that. ‘Come on, I’m taking you somewhere.’

‘Where? I look like a mess, I can’t go out.’ You looked at him with red and puffy eyes, Thomas almost smiled with your words. ‘Nonsense, you look beautiful.’ Then he grabbed your hand and helped you stood up, you two left the house. He led the way, ‘Where are we going?’ You asked and he turned his face to you, ‘It can’t be a surprise if I tell you.’ You rolled your eyes, ‘You know how much I hate surprises.’ He smiled playfully, ‘I think you’ll like this one.’ You continued to walk and you frowned when you recognized the way, ‘We’re going to Uncle Charlie’s yard, aren’t we?’ He nodded and you spoke again, ‘Are we going to shovel shit together?’

‘Nope. There’s someone I want you to meet with.’ Thomas looked happy and you let him do whatever he wanted, it was a nice thing to see him like that. ‘Close your eyes.’ You shook your head, ‘No way.’ He insisted, ‘y/n, close your eyes.’ You sighed and closed your eyes, he held your hand and helped you walk without falling. You heard some noises and after a few minutes he spoke, ‘You can open your eyes now.’ You did as he said so and you were charmed with what you saw. There was a beautiful white filly in front of you, your eyes shined with joy, ‘My God, Tommy... Is she yours?’ You asked, without looking at him.

‘Yes, and I want you to name her.’ Your eyes were wide open and you turned to him, ‘What? Why?’ He noticed how happy you were and he burned the moment to his memory, saving it for days he was going to spend without you. ‘Because you’ll take care of her when I’m away, I believe you two ladies will get on well.’ You smiled and caressed the little horse, ‘We will.’ Thomas watched you petting her and that put a genuine smile on his lips, ‘Found a name yet?’ You looked up at him and he locked his eyes with yours, he was going to miss them. ‘How about Faith?’ You asked, stepping closer to him. ‘Is there a reason why you chose it?’

‘Because I’ll always have faith in you.’ You whispered, hoping you won’t regret your words later. Thomas took a step and closed the distance between you, his cold hand cupped your warm cheek, ‘Even when I don’t have faith in myself?’ He whispered, too and you nodded slowly, ‘Especially then.’ You said firmly, looking directly into his deep blue eyes. ‘Then Faith it is.’ You smiled and closed your eyes, he admired how angelic you looked. Tommy wanted to lean in and crush his lips against yours but he knew it was wrong. He was scared of war, he didn’t want to give you hope and he was still older than you. He didn’t want to break your heart.

Then the day came, the Shelby clan and you were at the station, saying goodbyes. Thomas watched as you hugged to his brother John, saying some words he couldn’t hear. You slowly made your way to him, heartbeats skipping and with a worried look on your voice. ‘I have something for you.’ You tried to smile and gave him a photograph of yourself, ‘I know it’s not a big thing but I don’t want you to forget how I look.’ He stared at the paper and his gaze met with yours, ‘How can I?’ He took a step closer, placing it to his pocket. You closed the distance and hugged him, your lips nearly touched to his ear and you spoke softly, ‘Come back, Tommy. Come back to me.’

He did, though. He came back but not as the same person, he changed. Colder, sadder and worse. He suffered too much during the war, not only physically. His heart ached when he couldn’t remember how does your voice sound. He was afraid of death, what would you do if he died? You were in pain most of the days, worrying about his well-being. You wanted him back, you wanted him to come back alive and in one piece. You tried your best to help to Shelby women and you kept your feelings hidden. However, Polly knew. She found you in his room one day, staring at his empty bed.

‘Tommy’s a stubborn guy, y/n. He’ll come back.’

‘What if he can’t, Polly? What if he can’t make it here?’ You asked, eyes teary.

‘You have to believe in him, love. He doesn’t want to see you like that, does he? Now, wash your face and come help me.’

Thomas came back, but a part of him never did. You saw it in his eyes, he wasn’t the same. You felt the coldness, he went to war as a boy and he came back as a man. A man with a lot of trouble, you thought. He was drinking or smoking all day, sometimes both. He didn't let you get close and you never forced him. You gave him space but you found out it was a mistake after a long time. He didn’t heal, not even a bit. Actually, he got worse and you found yourself leaving him alone to deal with his problems. You thought he’d figure out his feelings and thoughts but no, you couldn’t be more wrong.

‘Please, y/n. Go talk to him for God’s sake.’

You knew Polly was right, he wasn’t coming to home for days, not even for sleeping. They doubted if he ever slept, he was a complete mess. You tried to look comfortable and went to the Garrison, knowing he’d be there. He was there most of the day, drinking until he passes out. You were angry at the world and at yourself, you hated the life you were living. You hated to see him breaking down, going away with every day passing. The Tommy before the war... That young, happy boy you used to love, you missed him. You knew he was gone and won’t be coming back but you still hoped.

Thomas was near the counter when you came in, drinking a glass of whiskey. He didn’t notice you until you touched his arm, ‘Tommy?’ He looked at you with empty eyes, then lit a cigarette. ‘Can we talk?’ He sighed and took a long breath from the cigarette, ‘I’m listening, eh?’ You continued to look at him, ‘Not here.’ He turned his eyes to you once again, ‘Where? You want to fuck me now or something?’ You frowned and felt your heart was breaking, this wasn’t the Tommy you thought you knew. ‘I can’t believe you.’ You said and turned your back, walking to the door. ‘y/n, stop. I didn’t mean it.’ 

He grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the private room, closing the door behind you. ‘I’m sorry, what did you want to tell me?’ You sighed and took the cigarette he offered to you, ‘I came here to talk with you, Tom. Not to watch you listen and walk away. You know, they’re worried for you.’ He exhaled the smoke and gave a look to you, ‘And they sent you?’ You sighed, knowing exactly what he meant. ‘I thought it’d be better. I’m not worried, Tom because I’m scared. Please tell me what’s wrong. Talk to me, please.’

‘What’s wrong, huh? Do you even ask that? I’ll tell you what happened, y/n. The war happened! And yeah, we fought there but the war won. I fucking lost and it took everything from me.’ You couldn’t look at him, the words hurt both of you, ‘I’m here, your family is here. You didn’t lose them, don’t let the war take them from you.’ He stubbed out the cigarette and walked to you, ‘Don’t you get it, I lost myself.’ You stepped closer, too. ‘Let me help you, Tommy.’ He closed his eyes and gave up. 

So you did. He told you about the nightmares and some nights, you stayed awake with him until the sun raised again. You sat with him in his bed, holding his hand, speaking about something random. Your feelings grew bigger but you knew it was something one-sided. You didn’t complain and did your best to make him feel better. One day a girl came to Garrison to work and when you saw him looking at her, you knew it. The tears appeared in your eyes but you smiled, sending them back. 

You saw him kissing Grace one day and you left the pub, walking to John’s place. He opened the door and before you say anything, he embraced you in a hug. Of course, he knew, he saw the way you looked at his brother like he was your whole world. You cried your heart out, your tears wettened his shoulder as he didn’t let you go. ‘I’m sorry, y/n.’ John whispered and you continued to cry, ‘I’m happy for him, John. I really am but it hurts too much.’ 

The months went on and John came to you with an offer, Ada was going to London and he thought you’d be a great company. You accepted, packed up your things and left with her, saying a small goodbye to the family. Grace was gone but Thomas didn’t say anything to you and you knew he still loved her. It hurt you so much and you left the town with a broken heart. Ada lost her husband and she wasn’t any better but you two supported each other.

‘You know, y/n. One day it won’t hurt as much as it does right now, and you’ll be happy again. You’ll meet someone who loves you like you loved Tommy.’

You didn’t believe her but it almost happened. You haven’t seen him for a few years and the heaviness you felt in your heart became less and one evening, you found yourself dancing with a gentleman. He asked you for a date and you thought it was the time to move on, you accepted. Oscar was a good, caring man and he loved you. After a few months you started to dating, he started to feel sick and you learnt he had an illness because of the war and didn’t have a chance to survive. 

He wanted to spend his last days with you so when Thomas sent you and Ada an invitation to his wedding, you couldn’t attend and you weren’t sad about it. You waited on Oscar’s bedside at the hospital and after a few days, he passed out. You felt sad for him but at least he died in peace, thinking he was with a woman who loved him. Yeah, you loved him but he never made you feel like Thomas did. They weren’t invited to the funeral so you didn’t see him until another funeral, belonged to his wife.

It was John who called you because Thomas was worse than ever. He did the same things he used to do right after the war, drinking until he passed out but now he had a son and the poor little boy needed his father. You went to his house and found him in the stables. ‘There you are.’ He didn’t look at you and continued to smoke, he was sitting on the floor and you joined him. ‘What do you want?’ Thomas asked, still avoiding the eye contact and you kept staring at him, watching his every move. ‘Nothing.’

‘I heard about you and him from John, it’s bad.’

‘Yes, it is. The war didn’t hurt only the ones who fought there, it hurt people left here, too. Now I see what you told before, I lost too.’

‘Do you... love him?’ He asked and your eyes widened, what kind of question that was? ‘Do you love her?’ He stayed silent and got up, ‘Stand up, you need to see something.’ You frowned and accepted the hand he offered to you, ‘What?’ He didn’t let go your hand and you walked together to the horses, ‘Here she is.’ Thomas stopped and the horse neighed when it saw the two of you. ‘I-I can’t believe, you kept her?’ You stepped to the animal and petted it. 

‘She wasn’t the one to race but I couldn't let her go so she’s here with me.’ After a long time, you found yourself smiling, ‘She’s not the same, eh?’

‘None of us are.’

‘How did we end up like this, Tom?’

‘Like what?’

‘I... Well, we're not that teenagers anymore so there isn’t a reason to not to tell you. I had this crush on you for... uhm, for a really long time and then you know, you came back from the war and things never been the same since then. Not that I didn’t like you after the war, I did. But then there was Grace and you looked really happy with her in a long time so-’

‘You’re saying you left the town because of me?’

‘It’s not like that. I left because I was happy for you but it hurt me and then I met with Oscar and he said he didn’t have much time, I couldn’t leave him alone. I couldn’t come to your wedding and to be honest, I didn’t feel very sad about that. John called and spoke to me so... that’s all, I think.’

‘y/n...’

‘What? I know it doesn’t sound good but that’s the truth.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ You cracked a smile at that, ‘Tell you what? Hi Tommy, I l know you see me as a sister but oh, I think I’m kinda in love with you but I don’t want to ruin our friendship so let’s pretend like that never happened. That’s what you wanted to hear?!’

‘Because I felt the same... I thought you liked John and I was too old for you and after the war, you were different and then you left. I thought you weren’t coming back and Grace returned, told me she was pregnant and I married to her. I loved her but I don’t think I can ever love someone as much as I loved you.’

‘You’re not serious.’ He arched an eyebrow, ‘You say so?’ You glanced away, ‘How... I don’t know what to say, Tom. I’m so sorry.’ 

‘I’m sorry, too. Look at me, y/n.’ You raised your head and he was there, looking with that sad blue eyes of his, ‘I love you. Do you love me?’ You didn’t hold back your tears anymore and broke down into his chest, ‘I do, I always did. I love you, Tommy, I love you so much that it hurts me.’ You sat on the floor together, all snuggled up. ‘Hold me and never let me go.’ You whispered and he hugged you tighter, ‘I’ll never let you go.’

‘We lost too much time, we lost everything.’ He pulled you closer to his chest and stared at the horse, ‘We still have Faith, love.’ 

[latter-day-saint-nick]

I should probably ignore this, but I’m feeling petty today.

I’ll address your second point first. The reason I singled out Moffat is because I’ve been annoyed with his work since Doctor Who, a show that I loved before he took over and the writing went downhill. My tag “flipping Moffat” is an in-joke between my wife and me. We started saying it in response to Moffat’s bad writing and dangling plot-threads on Doctor Who, but then went on to use that phrase jokingly whenever a piece of fiction has bad continuity and makes no sense, even when Moffat isn’t involved. Many of his worst qualities as a writer are on full display in Dracula: bad continuity, queerbaiting, dialogue that tries too hard to sound clever, clear contempt for the source material, poor attempts at female empowerment that just come off as sexist, male protagonists who are so much better and more important than everyone else. Since Moffat worked with Gatiss on both this and Sherlock, it’s safe to assume that Gatiss is just as bad of a writer as he is, but I can’t muster up the same hate towards him, simply because I know less about him. I don’t know what Gatiss’s personal views are like, but I have read plenty of interviews with Moffat where he says incredibly sexist and just generally gross things. So, yeah, screw Moffat and his relentless misogyny!

As to your first point, look, you’re allowed to disagree with my views, but saying that I shouldn’t be allowed to engage in media criticism is just rude. Especially when you don’t even bring up any counterarguments as to why I’m wrong apart from that the lead actor was hot. And you are absolutely allowed to enjoy trashy television because it has attractive people in it. Just like I’m allowed not to enjoy it.

Not to brag, but... okay, yeah, I’m totally saying this to brag, but I literally have a PhD in literature. Media criticism is kind of my thing. No, my rant was not on the level of an academic essay, but it wasn’t meant to be. My aim was mainly to be entertaining, which is why I used a joking tone throughout, even inserting some of the funny comments my wife and I made while watching the show.

But the fact that I have a PhD doesn’t even matter, because you didn’t just say that my critique was invalid, but that every person on Tumblr’s critique is. Why is that? Is it because there’s a lot of teenagers on this website? Teenagers may not have as much nuance in their media criticism than someone with more experience and education, but we all have to start somewhere, and just because someone’s young doesn’t mean they have nothing worthwhile to say. As far as I know, there’s no sign in front of fandom that says, “You must be this old for your opinion to matter.”

Have I seen bad media criticism on Tumblr? Sure. But I’ve also seen a lot of good, thoughtful discussions. I follow a lot of blogs that examine issues like sexism, racism and homophobia in media. Invariably, they get a bunch of hateful comments from people who think they’re over-analyzing or that they’re hurting the fandom by discussing racism. And this is kind of the vibe I’m getting from your comments, which is why they rankle me so much. Like I should just shut up about the problematic writing and let you enjoy your sexy vampires. (I apologize if I’m misunderstanding your intent here.)

Because while I mostly made fun of the bad continuity and the nonsensical plot, I did also touch on aspects I found troubling. Like queerbaiting. Literally one of the first lines of the show is, “Did you have sexual intercourse with Dracula?” Sister Agatha later explains that any contact with Dracula - including sexual - could have caused Jonathan’s condition, so there was no reason for her to phrase the question in such an asinine manner other than to tease LGBT+ audiences. And, no, the fact that Lucy has a stereotypical gay best friend in episode 3 does not make it okay. I talked about how Lucy’s characterization felt like a shallow attempt at female empowerment when it really just made her less sympathetic, because it showed her to be self-centred and vain. Which I feel is bad, sexist writing for a character we’re supposed to care about. Even making Van Helsing a woman came off as a shallow attempt at female empowerment when it seemed like the whole reason for the gender-swap was so she and Dracula could be shown in bed together at the end without it being gay. Maybe you disagree that showing Lucy being painfully and horribly burned alive was racist. I mean, in isolation the scene is still disturbing, but maybe not indicative of anything more. But taken together with the treatment of Bill Potts in Doctor Who it does present a troubling trend. Does Moffat (and Gatiss) actively hate black women and want them to suffer? No, probably not. But there is a subconscious bias in society that black women can take more pain than other women, and this shows up in the way they are treated in fiction. This is not a problem unique to Moffat, as the companion who was put through the most crap before Bill Potts was Martha Jones, another black woman. And this was during Davis’s era of Doctor Who.

So, believe or not, I actually put a lot of thought into my silly Dracula post. If you want to have a discussion about points you disagree with, that’s fine. But don’t just go around telling people that they shouldn’t be allowed to express their opinion.

[comeallyelost]

The Handmaid’s Tale 3x11 Thoughts

THT is finally picking up and I am split between being super excited and just generally frustrated that they had all these filler episodes with barely any movement for the majority of the season. But anyway, he are my thoughts on the main storylines of this ep:

1. Commander Winslow and the attempted rape scene

Okay this whole sequence was exceptional and exactly the catharsis I argued this season was in dire need of. June's narration of "treating it like a job" and the way she kept faltering in her delivery and in trying to convince herself one more time was fuckin A+ right there. 

June's actions in this scene were reinforcing the opening of the episode when Eleanor had Joseph at gunpoint. June told Eleanor "We all could have done something." In this scene, at this time, she DID something. It's inherently tied to post-Gilead June. More so post-death-of-Natalie June. She's refusing to remain complicit. At this point, she has nothing left to lose. I read a post earlier about how this scene and how THT in the past has glorified the idea of sexual assault victims fighting back and about how that should not be celebrated as a way to deal with sexual violence because that option is almost never available. But I'd argue that Moira, Emily, and now June in fighting back had/have very real consequences to face. And in all of their cases, they fought back at times when they'd reached their lowest point. In S1, Moira was resigned to a short life at Jezebel's until she found June again and June had told her that Luke got out. For Emily, she had just been mutilated by Gilead and took direct action against the regime by running over the guardian. Later with Aunt Lydia, Lawrence was able to get her out before she could face any consequences. 

Gilead drove them to become these people, but not before they had been worn down to the point that they decided for themselves there was no worse punishment than the existence they had already resigned themselves to. And the only one of the three who has not suffered a direct consequence for her actions has been Moira thus far (because she made it out). Emily was shipped to the Colonies after her outburst. And people are most certainly coming after June. The Marthas may have bought her some time, but she is not in the clear.

All I’m arguing is that these three characters’ actions in regards to fighting back is, within the context of the narrative, believable and--yes, for me--celebrated by the audience who has witnessed them be raped and beaten down over and over and over again. Our heroes have triumphed in a small way and that’s what we’re here for. We’re rooting for them. Mind you, they have not triumphed without consequence or repercussions. And I, as an audience member, am not expecting this to be the norm in situations of assault in the series, but its their spirit of resistance, of resilience that’s shining through that I am happy to see on screen. And also, its their stories that are getting told. The stories of the survivors of Gilead and how they made it through.

Now, I don’t know that the victims of sexual assault in this series will get the screen time they deserve regarding working through their trauma. Just like the racism issue on this show, this could be handled much better. It just might be the case that the coping/recovery aspect won’t ever be addressed. Or it might be that in the midst of all that is happening in Gilead at the moment, in order to survive, June is dealing with the here and now and won’t be able to cope with her issues until she’s out. We caught a glimpse of what it was like for Moira and Emily as survivors of Gilead. Granted, it was not nearly enough, but hopefully that’s something the writers will build on.

SO

Despite all of the above, I am torn between the relief and catharsis this scene gave me and the show’s complete and utter lack of exploration of Commander Winslow’s character. Like, YAY the fucker is dead and he died in the most satisfying way the audience could have asked for. But he was supposed to be a villain this season, no? THT had it all set up and then left his character on the back burner. What was gonna come of his relationship to Fred? What was his role in all of the extradition stuff. I’m just so frustrated with this wasted potential. And I legit thought for a second there in 3x06 that they hinted at him being sexually into Fred. 2.  The Waterfords

Perfect, wonderful, the arrest scene is the scene we all needed at least four episodes ago. And I loved how Tuello was super no-nonsense about it and straight up just grabbed Fred the second he was in Canada. My only qualm with this whole thread is why did it take so long with nothing of substance filling in the time? Like, the story could have moved forward so much faster. 

Serena is up to something, I know she is. I really wasn’t sure if she set Fred up or if she was trying to work something out with Tuello and it all just went to hell. She is just as much a war criminal as Fred is so I’m curious to see how this plays out and what kind of deal she struck/will strike with Tuello. 

The only reason I’d suspect she set Fred up is because their whole trip played out like a long goodbye where they relived their greatest hits and spoke a lot about the what-ifs of their lives. But to my knowledge she still wants the baby back doesn’t she? Did the whole enforce-the-Ceremony thing really change her mind AGAIN? Like, bitch lost her damn pinky finger and she bounced back from that? When not long before being de-fingered she helped Fred to rape June? Whatever she’s up to, I honestly hope she suffers for her actions as well.She doesn’t deserve Tuello’s treason and coconuts.

3. June, the Marthas, and her crusade

Ngl, I'm getting really excited for a mass exodus of children from Gilead. I'm still iffy on the whole setup of it, because again, June has no reason to be spearheading any of this. Especially if the Marthas already have something in place. It feels like they acquiesced too quickly in that scene in the Lawrence basement. But June's attitude of "it has to work" and getting Lawrence in line  and later that Billy guy to agree to her plan was pretty great. 

I think the believability factor is hindered by the fact that she is working alone. Like, yes, she’s trying to get all these moving pieces to work together, but even though she has the character traits of a leader and we’ve seen that for the most part she has not relinquished her sense of power despite her position, orchestrating a move like this doesn’t realistically happen over the course of a few days and persuading a couple of people. It’s looking too easy given how damn complicated so many other things in Gilead have been. It’s like another version of convenient plot armor. 

But also shoutout to the Marthas for their badassery!

4. Other thoughts: - Next week’s trailer we FINALLY have some Canada scenes.Seeing Luke also made me realize how much I miss the flashback scenes too :(

- I’m liking Commander Lawrence more and more each ep and I low-key loved the fact that he raided all the art museums lmfao

- I feel like Beth’s character is being wasted. Why can’t we know more about her and what she gets up to? I like her.

- Also where are Alma and Janine? Weren’t they helping?

There’s only 2 eps left and I feel like there is way too much ground to cover for there to be a satisfying ending for all the characters. Sigh.

[the-golden-ghost]

Fandoms: IADWW and the Jules Verne Literary Universe?

IADWW:

character i first fell in love with; Considering I read the book entirely for the sake of Charles... Charles.

ultimate favorite character; I mean, probably Charles. Dunois is pretty rad too though.

favorite female character; VALENTINE MOTHERFUCKING VISCONTI, WHO DESERVED BETTER AND FOR WHOM I WOULD DIE

favorite male character: We just covered this

least favorite female character; I mean I know this book did her slightly dirty but Isabeau

least favorite male character; Jean the Dickweed of Burgundy comes to mind. Not a huge fan of Louis d’Orléans either cause he didn’t appreciate Valentine enough but he also got murdered so RIP

ultimate OTP; Charles x Marie, actually. I know Charles x Bonne is like the kinda obvious romantic one but like... they were barely together for their entire marriage? 

favorite m/m ship; I don’t know that I have one for this? I mean I know in the Shakespeare canon there’s the ever-popular Charles/Constable but that’s Shakespeare canon, it doesn’t work as well with this.

favorite f/f ship; N/A 

favorite m/f ship; See above

BROTP(s); All the Orléans siblings together. Also Dunois and Jeanne d’Arc. Also Valentine and Charles VI.

NOTP; Louis x Isabeau was a hecking nightmare

most aesthetically pleasing character; Valentine, obviously. Canon would suggest Louis but canon is WRONG. 

character you’d totally hug; Charles, for one. Also Valentine.

character you’d totally date; Valentine and I’d treat her right this time. Except she’s in love with Louis so alas. Also Dunois. Also possibly Jeanne d’Arc cause... well, you know.

overall opinion of the show/game/book/etc; Quality! Especially for being a lengthy, historically-dense novel about an obscure historical figure who most people barely remember except for a minor part in Shakespeare’s Henry V and also maybe for his Valentine’s Day poem. It takes some time to get into just cause it starts from so early on, before Charles is even born, but boy is it worth every page! And the fact that it ends so happily after all the bad stuff that goes on in it...

JVLU:

(Okay disclaimer, I’ve only actually read two books from it. I really need to read more. Nonetheless, here’s what I got!)

character i first fell in love with; That would be Nemo, when I was like 7 or so.

ultimate favorite character; Probably Aronnax

favorite female character; Martha! I mean she was only in the book for a total of probably nine seconds but she was a good soul and honestly shouldn’t have had to put up with that nonsense, either.

favorite male character: See above?

least favorite female character; There’s only been like two...? I mean, provided the ray that stung Conseil in that one scene was female, than That Ray. Curse you, ray. 

least favorite male character; Probably Lidenbrock because he has zero redeeming qualities and spends the entire book acting like a dick. And he also learns nothing from this behavior and does not change, so RIP

ultimate OTP; That would be Nemo/Aronnax

favorite m/m ship; see above. I’m also a fan of most of the TKLUTS ships, though. When it comes to that book I like the dynamics between everyone so I’m not picky. I’m quite fond of Aronnax/Ned especially.

favorite f/f ship; N/A due to having not read enough books with actual women in them, and Verne not writing enough actual women

favorite m/f ship; Probably Axel/Graüben. I mean we see exactly none of it but what else?

BROTP(s); Again, all of the TKLUTS squad. They all rock.

NOTP; I don’t really have one? I mean there aren’t many ships for these books anyway. I guess shipping anyone from JTTCOTE would be super weird cause the main group consists of a guy and his uncle and their Icelandic guide who doesn’t speak more than one word at a time and therefore lacks much obvious personality? 

most aesthetically pleasing character; I mean, if we’re to trust Aronnax, it’s Nemo. The most admirable specimen of human ever to be seen. 

character you’d totally hug; Aronnax, he seems like the type to give excellent hugs.

character you’d totally date; I dunno. I guess Conseil. I’d date Conseil, I think that would be entertaining.

overall opinion of the show/game/book/etc; The JVLU is a really wild ride. I mean it’s got all this Real Science(tm) in there but then also a lot of Stuff Verne Just Completely Got Wrong or Stuff Verne Muddled The Timeline For To Fit His Story Better so dates and everything are a huge mess, names make no earthly sense, (the fact that he couldn’t come up with a realistic-sounding French surname despite being French kills me) and yet there’s all this real world accurate knowledge of fish and how tides work. Plus, you know. Epic Adventures. People can simply Do More in this timeline, such as ride volcanoes, and battle squids hand-to-hand. It’s a lot to take in. But it’s fun, and I appreciate it. 

[fabfemmeboy]

Things about the Season 3 Finale of Handmaid's Tale that Don't Make Sense

I will say first that I preferred this episode to much of the season, even if there were parts I thought were unrealistic to the point of absurdity while I was watching it.  But after a day and a half, the list of nonsense keeps growing.

June was walking with an armed escort since her walking partner is dead.  While some of the girls were sneaky about their soap, it was a lot of them - and some were downright Not.Subtle.  I'm not just talking about Janine, either, but let's start with her.  Why didn't the guardian - whose whole job is to make sure the handmaid in his charge can't get up to something - not even notice? it wasn't like she just grinned, either, she was giddy and spoke and talked about how she couldn't wait.  If my job is to make sure the person I'm guarding doesn't get up to something, in particular if I'm used to seeing myself as above the person I'm guarding, then I'm asking questions.  I'm demanding answers.  I'm checking the bag.  This guy stands next to her and stares into space.  Did she just get the guy who's really bad at his job?  (How convenient!)  Is he so used to assuming that "those silly women chattering on about nonsense" can't be plotting anything serious?  (Really bad outlook for a guard to have)  Given some of the other guardians we've seen and how they handle far less communication between handmaids, why doesn't this guy seem to give a shit?  Is he secretly in the resistance, too? Is literally everyone except Fred, Serena, and Aunt Lydia?

For reference, Rebecca and her martha traveled about 12 miles by modern roads, likely much more than that when you factor darting through woods and back yards.  How the hell big is the martha network that one in Lexington knew about this plot?  How does a martha from central Boston, whose duties generally aren't going to let her go too much outside the city, get information all the way out there?

Oh, and how the hell did the martha get rohypnol?  You can make it impossible to get antidepressants, but date-rape drugs are still floating around?  Was the use of that particular substance deliberate, given the assault in Gilead, rather than simply making it sleeping pills or whatever Mrs. Lawrence took?

Speaking of whom - so Lawrence is just going to let it go that June either let his wife die or actively killed her?  The look at the end of the funeral last week seemed to indicate he knew or at least suspected.  But this guy, who clearly adored his wife and tried to protect her for *years*...doesn't even take his anger out on June? She's mouthing off to him and he just shrugs and lets her do it?

Rebecca looks to be about 8-10 and doesn't really remember before.  She's one of the oldest kids in the bunch.  The younger ones have literally never known a pre-Gilead time.  Why are none of them upset at being taken somewhere?  Why is not one of them crying for mommy and daddy?  Why aren't any of them whining that they want to go home?  Hell, it's been several hours and a lot of walking - none of them are complaining that they're bored or tired or itchy or hungry or bored.  Has Gilead managed to break children of complaining? Because *that* is quite a feat!  But seriously, if at age 6 my neighbor (whom I knew and trusted) had told me "we have to go now, be very quiet" and made me leave my home without my parents, I would have tried to be quiet for awhile but would have had a LOT of questions.  Like why aren't Mom and Dad here? Where are they? Are they ok? What's happening?  Why do we have to be quiet? Why are we going through the woods and not on the street? To avoid being seen - but why? Why can't the guards see us? They see us all the time.  And if the answer came that she was taking me out of the country, I would have a lot more questions about why and why couldn't mom and dad come and what would it be like there.

And by the way, "you can be anything you want to be" doesn't really work in a world where there don't seem to be professions other than "martha" or "commander" or "lady of leisure" or "sex slave."  Getting to wear whatever you want doesn't really make sense if everyone wears the same thing, either.  It's not like the kid is going to think "oh, good, I can wear red because I like that colour but here only those women wear it."  Like...that's not helpful.  And I get that nothing she could say would be helpful to these kids because how do you explain a completely different world to someone who has no concept of what that world includes? But these are not helpful answers.  So let's go with what the kids might have a concept of - what refugee children talk about when they leave:  violence.  Guys with guns on every corner (yay canada!).  People who disappear without warning.  Though maybe the kids won't have any concept of that, either, because the commanders' families are kept so isolated and protected.

Were all the kids from commanders' families? They made it sound like Rebecca was an anomaly in that regard, but technically all the guys in suits with wives and handmaids are commanders.  And those are also the only homes that have marthas.  Everyone else has econowives, and everyone dresses in grey - even the kids.  So these children, in their pale pink and blue, they all have to be the children of commanders/wives/handmaids, right?  Why were only Rebecca's parents looking for her? Sure, she'd been gone longer, but if it's getting dark and my child isn't home, I'm going to be pretty freaked out and calling the guys with guns to find her, especially given the community turmoil lately - Nicole was "kidnapped," Serena and Fred and the guy from DC were all "taken" by Canada...considering how protective everyone is of their children, particularly in this world, they don't seem to pay very close attention to the kids' whereabouts.

This has bothered me since Emily at the beginning of the season but came up again: When you're trying to avoid being seen by helicopters overhead, TAKE OFF YOUR WHITE HAT!  It's bad enough you're in red...though I suppose given how few handmaids were on this adventure at least a few of them could have changed into spare martha dresses so they blend into the woods a little better.  (June has several dresses, you can't tell me marthas - who cook and clean - only have one.  You're telling me that the woman who thought to soap the back gate so it wouldn't squeak, who has gone undercover before, couldn't think to change into less visible clothing?)  But at the very least, the white thing on top of your head is going to be incredibly visible at night, even without flashlights.  Take it off ffs!

Was Janine always going to be going?  Why are no other handmaids trying to get out?  We have a handful of marthas who see this opportunity and are getting on a plane, but only Janine - crazy, traumatized, batshit-screwy Janine - has the wherewithall to think "...if a plane's leaving, it could take me with it too"?  Has she finally stopped trying to get back to baby Angela?  And if so, can she give June lessons in that because this whole "I'm staying behind to find my daughter" thing is getting to be a really old plot device.  

Were we supposed to be surprised that June was wiling to forego her seat on the plane? Because from the reactions of the other characters, I think we were supposed to be, but I was never under the impression she was leaving with the kids, I assumed she was going to stay and try to do another of these hair-brained schemes in a way that got more people of colour killed because that's what she does at this point.  

Why the hell did you think there wouldn't be guardians at the tarmac?  Even if Rebecca weren't in the group, even if no one were looking for these kids (and they should be, btw), but just in general: it's a plane that brings things into Gilead.  They're not checking for contraband?  Because if they're not, then the guardian are a) stupid and b) missing out on fantastic bribery/extortion opportunities.  

Did June tell Lawrence about giving away his art collection? Because poor Billy is in enough trouble already, but he thought at least he's be able to go raid that house.  But now that Lawrence stayed behind, I'm just picturing the bartender showing up in a truck to take out paintings and being greeted by a very angry commander.

Not one child pops up or down from the group at the wrong time.  Clearly these writers/directors have never seen an elementary school concert.

Back to the tarmac.  They made a big deal about June bringing her gun.  Why the fuck is she throwing rocks?  Is it because she's worried she's not a good enough shot?  If so, why bring it? And even then, since your goal clearly isn't to kill him - just distract him - given that you're throwing rocks which aren't going to hit him unless he's a blind moron...why not shoot his car?  Shoot, as long as you hit *something* he's going to turn to look for the source, you duck, repeat, same as the rocks only at least that way poor Janine gets the fuck out of Gilead.  And all the other marthas.

BTW, when June takes off running to draw the gun away from the tarmac...did everyone else go board the plane? They could have, but somehow Janine was still in Gilead.  Were the rest of the rock-throwers?  Because most of them are going to end up dead otherwise.  But the plane only seemed to have a small handful of adults, and the only one we saw enough of to recognize was Rita.

Ok, so we get to Canada, and I have to ask: Do they just have a hanger ready for refugee planes at all times? Because this operation was very well-stocked for a plane that just departed 40 minutes ago, and given that they had no idea kids were on-board, I suspect there wasn't a whole lot of communication beforehand about the plane coming, so how did the refugee assistance people even know to go wait at a hanger? That's also a really nice hanger for a random cargo plane.  Was all of that arranged in advance?  Because otherwise I imagine a sudden flurry of calls to Moira and co from the head of the RAFC going "holy shit, a plane full of refugees just arrived at the airfield where the fedex planes leave from, get people down here to help!"  But they've clearly been there awhile setting up and knew to expect people...but not to expect kids.

Unlike Hannah, who kind of remembers June but doesn't really feel connected to her anymore, Rebecca not only recognizes her dad but runs to him and throws her arms around him, as happy to see him as he is to see her.  So she doesn't remember before, but remembers her dad clearly enough to have actively missed him.  That...doesn't make a ton of sense given what we've seen so far.  Like, she's happier to see her dad than Oliver was to see Emily, and Oliver has had his memories of his mom actively reinforced by Syl this whole time.

(On a separate note, the most wrenching moment of the whole episode was Luke hoping for Hannah.  I love when shows use "the audience knows something the characters don't" to heighten emotions like that.)

Why, when Fred picked things to tell Tuello, did he go with pimping June out and NOT with the fact that they raped her to induce labor?  Is it because Fred still thinks that was totally fine, but June/Nick was a betrayal somehow?  Because given the fight they had at the house, it was clear Serena had decided after the fact that it was wrong and tried to throw it in his face when he was adamant he did it because she told him to and because he was trying to "fix [her] mess."    

(Also was I the only one who thought it was going to be that she had done something way worse? Been the one left holding the bag on the terrorist act that started the civil war?  Had secretly poisoned some prominent people? Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if she were the one who came up with the Ceremony in the first place, and architects of war crimes are still war criminals - hence Lawrence, remember?)

The morning after 52 children and a handful of adults escape Gilead, 6 women in bright red robes can walk through the woods near the tarmac from which the kids went missing to search for, rescue, and carry back another woman all in red...without anyone noticing.  Sure, that sounds like the guardians we all know and love for convenient plot purposes.

[distant-rose]

Seal of Fate Ch. 6 (7/8)

Notes: Okay, okay, okay, there’s a lot of stuff in this chapter, including graphic violence, some mutilation, nonconsensual drugging and attempted murder. All the fun stuff. I ask you to be patient with the craziness that happens particularly with the boat scene. I spent a lot of time going over emergency radios and whatnot and unfortunately, there just wasn’t a lot of information though I did find out a lot of modern boats have locators on them, which allow officials to track your boat in the case of emergency. I would also like to make a quick apology for not updating last week. A lot was going on and there was just no way I was going to do it without losing my mind. This fic has been quite the roller coaster and I can’t believe it’s almost over. I hope you enjoy it. Anyway, a special thanks to @shireness-says and @katie-dub for being awesome. A thank you as well to the mods of @cssns and to @drowned-dreamer for creating art for me. And most of all, thank you to @aerica13 for being the most amazing beta ever. Summary: Emma Swan is looking for only one thing - answers. Abandoned outside a police station in Menemsha, Martha’s Vineyard, Emma has dedicated her life to finding out where she comes from and why she was given away. She finds an unlikely partner in Killian, a selkie she inadvertently summons in a fit of frustration over her cold case. Word Count: 5,400+ AO3: [LINK] Chapters: Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Epilogue Rating: T+

Emma awoke, head throbbing, a taste of cotton in her mouth and her cheek pressed against a rough cold surface. The pain wasn’t sharp but dull and constant, poking at the edge of her awareness. She felt a little fuzzy and not in the normal way she felt when she usually awoke. It was like her brain was made of cotton; thoughts flighty and less concrete.

Like she had been drugged on top of being knocked out.

The next thing that hit her was the smell of sharp chemical cleaner and decay. Both smells were something she had become familiar with in her runaway days, when she had stayed in an assortment of places from seedy unclean motel rooms to abandoned buildings with dead animals in them. It brought back memories of a hollow stomach, frozen toes and never-ending loneliness. She opened her eyes. Almost instantly she regretted the decision. She was on the set of American Horror Story. 

That was the first thing that popped into her head as she surveyed her surroundings. She was laying on the concrete floor of an unfinished basement with no windows, wall beams and insulation exposed. Different types of knives and tools were hanging from the various nails on the beams. Directly across from her face was a rack of sealskin that looks freshly cut. Nausea churned inside of her at the sight but that wasn’t the worst of it. In the corner of the room, there was a large tub, surrounded with various types of chemicals and dark stains on the floor. The tub itself was filled with a churning pinkish mixture that was bubbling and fumes were rising from it. There was something large floating in it but Emma didn’t dare to investigate further. She didn’t want to know. What she wanted was to get the hell out of there. To her surprise, she was not bound or chained to anything but rather than critique the kidnapping skills of her abductor, she stood and stretched. She was alone aside from whatever was in the tub, no sign whatsoever of the person who had taken her from Stop & Shop. Immediately she began looking for a window or a door. From the looks of it, the only way in and out was the stairway. Tentatively, she ascended and pressed on the door. Again, to her surprise, she found it was unlocked. She opened it slowly, trying not to make a sound and alert whoever was around. Despite her efforts, it creaked loudly and she stopped pushing it almost immediately. She strained to hear if there was any activity on the other side, barely able to make out anything aside from the thundering of her heart. There was nothing. No sound or movement came from the other side. She let out a shuddering breath as she pushed the door a little farther, just enough to slip through. Moving as quietly as she could, she inched herself through and into an immaculate looking kitchen. The place was spotless and it was hard to believe that she was still in the same house that contained the horror downstairs. Her phone was on the counter.

Immediately, she grabbed it, noting the time. She had been out for at least four hours. Killian had blown up her phone. She didn’t bother looking at the messages. She hit the call button. It rang twice.

“Swan!”

“Killian,” she spoke softly, moving through the house in hopes of finding a quick exit. She had no idea where her abductor was and she didn’t necessarily want to come face-to-face with them.

“Where are you? I’ve been calling and calling!”

“I was taken somewhere,” she whispered as she entered an expensive-looking living room. “Someone hit me and then I work up on the set of the Friday the Thirteenth.”

“Now is not the time for your nonsensical references! Where are you?”

That’s when she saw it. On the cherry wood mantle. It was the only thing sitting there. No photos, no baubles or no knick-knacks. Only a large mason jar full of teeth. Her stomach dropped.

“Gold,” she whispered.

“Get the hell out of there! Swan, you need to get out of there now!”

She opened her mouth to speak but before she could get the words out, she was grabbed from behind and a cloth was placed over her mouth, muffling her scream of surprise. The noxious smell of chemicals hit her nose and almost immediately she was hit with a sense of drowsiness. Her phone fell out of her grasp as her body went limp and the last thing she remembered was high-pitched laughter ringing in her ears.

The floor wasn’t so smooth the next time she awoke, feeling just as hazy as she had the last time, though this time her hands were bound with duct tape. The floor was now cold, wet and rocking. Nausea returned and this time, she couldn’t hold it back. She got up in a sitting position so she could vomit without getting it in her hair. “Rohypnol doesn’t work well on you, dearie, does it?” Emma lifted her head, finally taking in her new surroundings. She was on what she could only describe as a generously large boat. Gold wasn’t looking at her but rather looking out at the ocean from the captain’s seat. He seemed normal, calm, as if he was going for a night cruise rather than abducting someone. His nonchalant attitude made her blood boil. “You roofied me? You son of a bitch!” He ignored her outburst, still scanning the horizon. “You should have been out for hours yet. How curious.”

“You’re psychotic!” She hissed. He turned to face her. Emma expected anger or at least annoyance. There was nothing. It was as if she hadn’t said anything at all. He merely stared at her with the same curiosity that person had when observing an insect, detached and only vaguely interested. “You have fire,” he said conversationally. “I wonder how long it will last.” He moved away from the captain’s seat, stalking in her direction. Emma immediately scooted backwards, trying to keep as much distance from him as possible. He snorted in laughter, passing her to drop an anchor over the rail.   “Going somewhere?” “Anywhere away from you.” “Afraid your options are quite limited, dearie. We’re a mile from shore. Nothing but you, me and the open ocean. Now, let’s chat.” “I make a point not to talk to people who kidnap me,” Emma replied through clenched teeth. Gold looked down at her for a long moment. This time Emma stared back into his eyes, which she know noticed were as cold and emotionless as those of a reptile. She remembered her first impression of him in Granny’s diner and how he reminded her of a crocodile. The same look he had given Killian was now aimed in her direction. It caused a shiver to go down her spine. It was then Emma remembered exactly who she was dealing with. She was dealing with the man who murdered her parents, a man who had slaughtered and killed selkies and, more importantly, a man who believed he was above the law. She was stuck on a boat in the middle of the ocean with a serial killer.

He opened a cooler that had been sitting alongside the benches that lined the craft. At first all she saw was blood and ice. He plunged his hand into it, barely even flinching at the cold temperature and pulled out a large fish head.

“There are two ways this conversation can go,” Gold said, still in that nonchalant tone of his. “This could be a nice conversation where it’s just you and me or I could bring some...friends along and you can go for a swim. The choice is yours.”

He gave her a significant look as he tossed the fish head over the side of the boat.

“I think you plan to kill me whether or not we chat,” Emma replied.

Gold chuckled, pulling out another bloody severed fish head and throwing it over. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

“I’m not a moron. You allowed me to see your face and I’m not bound to the island so you can’t keep my silence. You don’t plan on me living.”

“It’s strange how history repeats itself,” he said, still laughing. “I’ve had this conversation before, you see. About thirty years ago, now that I think about it. Young man who thought he was brave. Brave only gets you so far…”

“David Nolan?”

“My, someone has been doing their research. David, David, David. Everyone used to say how smart he was but he wasn’t so smart in the end,” he mused, a wicked smile contorting across his thin lips. Emma felt sick. “You see, like you, he got himself involved with a selkie and well, hunters don’t appreciate those who stand in the way of their prey. I wonder how smart you’re going to be.”

“I don’t think smart has anything to do with it if I’m going to die either way.”

“Oh but it does. You see, if you’re smart, I kill you nice and clean before I throw you overboard. No fuss. No pain. The sharks won’t be as kind.”

Emma swallowed. She could feel her knees rattling against the deck. She couldn’t tell what was causing her to shake more, the chill in the air or the fact that there was no way she was getting off this boat alive.

“I’ll say one thing, you’re stronger than most. You haven’t started begging or crying yet. No bargaining, no pleading for your life.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

He moved, crouching in front of her. She flinched when he touched her face, gripping her jaw and forcing her to look at him.

“Who did you call when you were in my house? It wasn’t the police. They would have said.”

“The FBI.”

“Doubtful,” he tutted as he smacked her cheek. “I would have known. I have contacts there as well. I’m more valuable to them than you could ever be. No. You were talking to someone you want to protect...the diner lady? Her harlot granddaughter? Or was it your selkie?”

Emma said nothing, merely glared at him. She had never hated another human being more than she did in this moment. Even during her worst nights in prison, she didn’t hate Neal as much as she hated Gold.

“It was, wasn’t it?” The smile grew more cruel. “You thought he would rescue you, didn’t you?”

Again she remained silent, visualizing what how his face would look after she had bashed it in with her fists. He treated this as a confirmation as well, crowing with sick delight and laughing more.

“Don’t you know? There’s no one more selfish than a selkie. They never think about anyone but themselves. They don’t care about the hearts they’ve stolen or the families they’ve destroyed. All they care about is pleasure and freedom. He won’t come for you.”

“What makes you so sure he’s a selkie?”

“Oh dearie, dearie, dearie. I know them better than they know themselves. I’ve been hunting them since before you even born. I know a selkie when I see one. Dark, beautiful, selfish and vicious. They always reveal themselves in the end. I saw him for the beast he was the moment I set eyes on him.”

The cynical and jaded part of Emma wanted nothing more than to laugh in his face. Here he was bragging about how well he knew selkies while there was one right in front of his very nose and he didn’t seem to realize it.

“If he’s the one you want, then what do you want with me?”

“Information.”

“I thought you knew everything there was to know about selkies.”

“I do, which is why if anyone knows the key to finding him it’s you. They’re chatty creatures when they’re trying to impress their latest victim.”

“You mean victims like your wife?” She didn’t know why she was baiting him but she couldn’t help but ask the question.

His eyes bulged in surprise for a brief moment, clearly caught off guard. It wasn’t long before they narrowed anything, the cold emotionless look replaced with something akin to fury. It was the first time Emma felt like she was seeing a genuine emotion from him.

“And what do you know about my wife?”

“She left you for a selkie man and you couldn’t handle it.”

“Is that what you think?”

“That’s what I know.”

“Which is absolutely nothing!” he snarled. “My wife was no victim. She was selfish and had little regard for anyone, including our son. I gave her everything. A home. Money. Clothes. A beautiful boy to take care of. All I wanted was her to be my wife and what did she do to show her gratitude? Returned to the ocean at her first chance.”

She felt her jaw drop as she realized exactly what he was saying.

“Your wife was a selkie,” she whispered in horror.

“And a vicious one at that. Heartless. Milah took from me what I desperately desired so I took away what she desired the most,” he replied, fiddling with charms of the crude necklace around his neck. “And now, she’ll never leave me.”

Emma stared in horror as she realized that charms he was playing with weren’t actually charms, but rather very human-looking teeth, canines if her elementary health classes had taught her correctly. Given the context of their rather gruesome conversation, Emma could only assume that they had belonged to his wife, which is why they were around his neck rather than in the mason jar on his mantle back in the house. Bile rose in her throat.

An even sicker realization hit her.

Milah. It took her a few moments to place the name but when she did, it felt like someone had dumped an ice bucket over her head. Gold’s wife had been Killian’s Milah, the selkie woman who had become his rock in a new and unforgiving environment. The man who had killed her parents had also killed the woman Killian had loved. She didn’t know why she was surprised. This man seemed to thrive on destroying the lives of those around him.

“You killed her because she wanted to go home.”

“She killed herself when she decided to abandon her family.”

“You couldn’t stand her saying ‘no’ to you. You’re like a child who destroys his toys when they don’t work the way he wants!” She shouted back at him.

Gold’s face flashed with fury. He lunged forward, grabbing a handful of her hair and slamming her facedown against the deck. The blow was sudden and disorientating, pain shooting through her skull. She could already feel the massive bruise beginning to form on her cheek.

“That will teach you to be mouthy. You will be silent unless I tell you otherwise,” he hissed into her ear.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no,” she repeated bitingly, her head still swimming. “I will not be silent. I will not cooperate with you. You will get nothing you want from me. I refuse. You might as well throw me overboard now.”

“That is a request I will happily grant,” Gold snarled, tightening his hold on her hair and proceeding to drag her across the boat.

Emma screamed, thrashing her body and waving her bound arms in hopes of hitting or loosening his hold. She wasn’t going to go down without a fight. She landed a few good hits, causing Gold to swear violently at her but she paid no attention to his words. In the course of her struggle, she managed to kick over the chum cooler, sending ice, blood and fish parts sliding across the deck.

As Gold attempted to drag her towards the ledge, something happened. A black mass burst from the water and jumped onto the boat, sending both Emma and Gold backwards. Emma let out a yelp of pain as she smacked her elbow hard against the deck. The boat rocked violently, seesawing back and forth in a fashion that made her wonder if the boat was going to flip over. Gold screamed as he fell, red flashing across her vision.

Initially, Emma thought it was some sort of shark that jumped aboard. It has been incredibly large and powerful enough to nearly capsize the boat. But as she got her bearings, she realised that she was seriously mistaken.

It was a seal.

A large black furred seal, larger than any animal that Emma had ever encountered before in her life. It was easily six to seven feet in length and looked like it weighed a few hundred pounds, more than capable of crushing both her and Gold. It looked more dangerous than any wild animal had the right to be, baring sharp teeth and barking noisily. She flattened herself against the deck, hoping that it wouldn’t take notice of her.

Gold had no such fears. He stood up on shaky legs, yanking Emma up by the arm. When she resisted, he pulled a switchblade from his pocket. She went still as he brought it against her neck.

“Yield.”

At first, Emma thought he was talking to her but Gold wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were trained on the still snarling animal. It was then that Emma really studied the creature. When she first caught sight of it, all she had noted was that it was large and terrifying but now it was familiar. Its sleek pelt had taken on a distant pattern that she had seen before but she didn’t make the connection until she saw the unnatural intelligence in its eyes.

Killian.

“Yield, beast.” Gold held the knife higher on her neck. “Take off the pelt and we will talk like men. Do anything rash and dear Emma gets a bloody necktie.”

The low growl emitted from Killian’s throat, lips raising to show off more sharp teeth. Gold didn’t so much as flinch - if anything, he pressed the knife closer to Emma’s skin. A few moments passed where nothing happened and Emma felt each second pass slowly as adrenaline pumped through her veins, heart beating a tattoo against her ribcage.

The seal shifted, rolling its shoulders followed by.a clicking noise. Emma watched, oddly fascinated, as bones began to shift beneath the skin. It was almost grotesque to watch it but she couldn’t look away as a flipper became more like an arm and the fat seemed to melt away from its torso, the pelt falling loose. She sucked in a breath as the face of the seal was pulled away to reveal a more familiar human one. The removal of the pelt was followed by an awkward squelching noise and it was then that she realised that his human skin was covered a thin layer of disgusting gunk. Faintly she mused that this was why selkies needed to dazzle humans into accepting them, watching the transformation from seal to human was pretty gross.

“You know, I’m hunted your kind for decades and I can count on a single hand how many times you lot have come back for humans. Not the smartest seal, are you?”

“You shouldn’t have brought her into this,” Killian said in a quiet tone. Despite his calmness, Emma could hear the anger in his voice.

“You’re the one who brought her into this, dearie.”

“Let her go.”

“And why would I do that?” Gold taunted.

Killian didn’t answer his question. His lips formed a tight thin line as his eyes cut away from Gold and met Emma’s. His demeanour changed, from furious to desperate. He seemed to be silently pleading with her but over what, she didn’t know.

“Tell you what, you hand over your pelt and the girl goes free.”

“No!” The word escaped her throat before she could stop it.

“Quiet,” Gold hissed, fingers digging into the skin of her arm. “That’s my deal for you. The pelt for the girl.”

“I’m not worth it,” Emma whispered, shaking her head, heedless of the knife at her throat.

“No…” Killian swallowed. “You’re worth everything.”

He stepped forward, pelt in his hands. Emma wanted to scream at him for being so foolish and so reckless and for choosing this moment, the worst moment in the history of bad moments, to be romantic. He was an idiot. Gold had no intentions of letting either of them go and he was surrendering the most fundamental part of him in a desperate, useless measure that everyone on this boat knew would amount to nothing. This was unacceptable.

She refused to accept this. She wasn’t going to.

An eerie sense of calm overtook her as she came to a decision. There was a sudden disconnect between her mind and her body, as if she was just watching a movie rather than experiencing it firsthand. The only thing she knew was that she wasn’t going to allow Killian to do this, not while she was living and breathing.

Over the course of her career as a private investigator, Emma had watched her fair share of shitty romantic comedies, including Sandra Bullock’s “Miss Congeniality.” It wasn’t the best film in the world and there were parts that Emma found more irritating than endearing but there was one scene that seemed to be burned into her memory and that was the scene where Gracie Hart taught the audience how to SING and not in the entertaining way.

Bracing slightly, Emma brought her elbow up and swung backwards as hard as she could. She made contact with his solar plexus, catching him off guard and causing him to stumble. The knife came down against her collarbone, cutting into her skin but Emma paid it no mind as she slammed her foot against his instep and pivoted back to hit him with her elbow again.  Gold fell backwards and she moved to finish the job but Killian shoved her out of the way, getting in on the action by hitting him with a bodyslam. Gold went over the side of the boat with a loud shout, pulling on Killian’s arm in desperate attempt to stay onboard. Killian stumbled, clawing at the railing to keep from falling over as well.

“Fuck!” Killian screamed, trying to pull his arm back. “You’re going to pull my bloody arm off!”

“I’m going to do quite a bit more than that once I get back on board!”

“I’m going to run you over with your own goddamn-“ He didn’t finish his sentence. Emma watched in horror as the boat shook from a sudden collision with a large force. Killian went flying over the edge with a yelp and into the water, bringing Gold with him.

Emma scrambled to her feet, a fresh sense of panic taking over. There were only two things that could have hit the boat like that, a whale or a shark, and neither of them were good.

Red.

All she could see bubbles and blood spreading. No sign of Killian and Gold. She had never been more terrified in her life, not even when Gold had put the knife to her neck.

“Killian!” Her eyes searched the water desperately, looking for a sign.

Suddenly a dark head arose from the churning sea, gasping for breath and splashing frantically. It was Killian and he looked positively terrified.

“Emma!”

Her relief was short lived as she noticed the dark shape in the water and an all-too-familiar triangular shape breaking the surface as it moved towards where Killian was barely keeping afloat. She had seen enough Jaws movies to know what it was.

“Killian! You have to get out of the water!”

She searched frantically, looking for something to help him. She found portable boat ladder leaning casually against the side and immediately placed it over the rail. Killian began to swim towards it but his movements were sluggish and slow.

He wasn’t going to make it in time.

“No, no, no, no,” Emma chanted under her breath as she began ripping at the duct tape around her wrists with her teeth. It took her a few moments to break it but when she did, she didn’t bother to take all of it off. Instead she looked around wildly for something that she could throw or distract the shark with. All she could find was buoys, life jackets and things for boat maintenance. She highly doubted throwing a can of WD40 was going to do much.

The only thing that looked remotely useful was a long thin metal pole with a small hook at the end of it. She had no idea what it was for and she didn’t care. She just needed to figure out how help Killian.

Armed with her weapon, Emma returned to the side of the boat to survey the situation. The shark was nearly on top of Killian who only a few feet away from the ladder. She didn’t think, smacking the pole against the water in hopes of warding the shark off. It swerved to avoid the pole but wasn’t deterred from its course. She continued to violently stab at the water in hopes of keeping it away from the boat, hitting it at times along the top of the head and nose. It reared back when Emma managed to get a nasty shot at its gills. She let out of a shout of victory as Killian clambered onto the deck, unhindered by the shark.

Or so she thought.

As soon as he made it over the side, he collapsed. Breathing heavy and white faced, he cradled his left arm against his chest. Blood and water pooled around him and that’s when Emma noticed his hand.

Or lack of it.

It was gone, leaving an gnarled wrist in its wake. Blood and shredded tendoned curling around the stump. Emma fought back the urge to scream and recoil. Freaking out would solve nothing. Killian needed help and he needed help fast.

It was a vague memory from her middle school health class but Emma tore off her shirt and immediately wrapped it around Killian’s wrist in hopes of creating a makeshift tourniquet. Her hands shook violently as she tightened the cloth around his ravaged wrist.

“What are you doing, love?” He asked weakly.

“Stopping the blood flow,” she answered shortly, taking off her belt so she could keep the shirt in place. Red quickly spread through the fabric and Emma didn’t like how fast he seemed to be losing blood. “I’m going to need you to keep this elevated while I try to figure out how to get you help…Can you do that?”

“Whatever you want, love.”

As much as she didn’t want to, she left his side and began searching through Gold’s stuff again, looking for something, anything really, that could help them get help. She had no clue how to drive a boat, especially one of this caliber and she was almost positive that any attempt to drive it back to Menemsha would be detrimental to Killian.

She nearly sobbed when she found an almost ancient emergency radio and a pack of flare gun. She picked up the radio, unsure if it was on the correct channel or even if she was transmitting correctly and spoke.

“Help! Help! Help! Is anyone out there! I need help!”

There was no response. She shifted the channel, repeating the same desperate plea and waiting thirty seconds for a response before changing it. Only the third shift, someone finally replied.

“Ma’am, is this mayday?” A man’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Mayday, help, what, I need someone and I need them now!” Emma shouted back. “I’m in the middle of fucking ocean, someone dead and my friend is dying! I need help!”

“Ma’am, what is the condition of your craft?”

“It’s fine but my friend isn’t! Send the Water Ambulance, the Coast Guard, the Avengers, someone! He’s been attacked by a shark and is bleeding out and I don’t know how to drive this thing! The guy who did is dead!”

“Ma’am, calm down, this is the US Coast Guard based in Chilmark that you’re speaking to. Do you know where you are?”

“No fucking clue,” she said, letting out a hysterical laugh. Just her luck. She could get the Coast Guard on her first attempt of radioing for help but she had no idea where she was. “All I know is that we came from Memensha.”

“Do you know the name of the craft, ma’am?”

“No,” she replied shortly.

“Listen to me carefully. I need you to look find the name of the craft you’re on. It should be on the side or near the back of the craft. Can you do that for me?”

Before he had even finished, she had moved to crane her head over side to get a look. There was a name inscribed in large gold lettering and a bunch of black vinyl numbers underneath it that Emma could only assume was a serial number.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you there, ma’am?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you find the name of your craft?”

“The Spinning Wheel,” she replied. “And I think, serial code...RU3PL3ST1K?”

“Thank you, ma’am. Your craft has a locator on it. We should be able to get to you in about 30 minutes to an hour depending on the accuracy of your locator. In the meantime, keep your radio on and tend to your friend. We’re sending a helicopter to get you. Look for any flares aboard your craft and set them off. They will help our responders find you.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” She couldn’t stop saying the words.

As soon as she was off the comm with the Coast Guard, she immediately shot off the flare gun. She watched in brief fascination as the flare flew up; red smoke bursting through the air, thick and vivid. It reminded her slightly of fireworks.

She returned to Killian’s side. He was propped up against the side of the boat, cradling his injured arm against his chest and looking as white as bone. Emma immediately wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her.

“Someone is coming,” she murmured into his hair. “You gotta hang on because someone is coming and they’re going to help us.”

Killian nodded weakly, seeming to barely register her words.

“So much for a dashing rescue,” he said faintly.

“What can I say, the only person who saves me is me,” she replied shakily, attempting to smile.

He chuckled a bit at that, the corners of his lips lifting faintly. “You’re brilliant, Swan.”

“And you’re going to be okay...you have to be okay…you said you weren’t going to leave me…”

“I’m not sure I have much of a choice in this…”

“You’re right, you don’t. I’m not going to allow you. I won’t let you. I refuse god fucking damn it!” Hot tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes as she clutched him tighter, afraid that he would slip through her fingers. She ran her fingers down his back in attempt to comfort him, placing fleeting kisses against his crown.

She couldn’t lose him.

Killian had become important. In the past few weeks, he had wormed his way past her walls, through her rib cage and straight into her heart. She didn’t know what they were or what they would be but she knew that she wanted him alive and in her life. He was her person in a way that no one else had been.

Despite her insistence that he wasn’t allowed to die, she had held her breath; fully aware that neither of them had control of the situation. Emma had done her best to stop the bleeding but there was no telling how much blood he had lost before she had even applied the tourniquet. She watched his color, growing increasingly more panicked as he got paler and paler.

She nearly burst into tears when she heard the beating sound of the helicopter’s wings cutting through the air.

They were going to make it.

[beccaland]

Beccaland reads and responds to an article about Doctor Who that she really should have known better than to have read in the first place

You know how you KNOW you should never read the comments sections, but sometimes you just can’t help yourself? That’s usually how I feel about reading articles about Doctor Who during the past few years, except from a handful of trusted sources. Yet there I was this morning, checking my regular email from Tor.com, and out of a slightly-morbid curiosity, I found myself reading “How It Feels to Want to Watch Doctor Who Again” by Alex Brown.

Partly, I really am interested in the fans who are getting interested in Doctor Who again. They left for a lot of reasons, and really you can’t begrudge anyone’s waning interest in a TV show. And it would be far, far more silly to begrudge them regaining interest! I’m excited for the awesome changes that are coming on October 7th, too. And I am fully aware that not every era is every fan’s cup of tea. On the other hand, I also know that I’m frequently irritated by the shallow criticism levelled in order to “justify” some fans’ disaffection. So there I was. Reading an article I knew very well was probably going to annoy me, like a masochist.

And just because I feel like it, I’m going to quote a bunch of it and offer my own commentary. I’m going to be as fair as I can, noting where I think a given critique is valid, where I think it’s valid but still disagree, and where I think it’s the same old tired, inaccurate nonsense.

Here we go:

“I miss Doctor Who.”

ME TOO!

“There was a time when I watched it fervently, reverently, passionately. It was something I put on when I was stressed or overwhelmed or needed to be reminded of the good things in life. The relationship wasn’t perfect, but it was powerful and affirming.”

Yeah, I do that too, but I never really stopped.

“Until suddenly it wasn’t.”

I mean, sure. Doctor Who did something on a purely personal and emotional level for the author, and then it stopped. That’s totally fair.

This actually happened to me with the novels in the ‘90s–they just weren’t doing enough for me imaginatively or emotionally anymore to justify the challenge of finding them and the expense of buying them. It happens. (I still wanted Doctor Who in my life though, so I rewatched my VHS tapes instead, until they had degraded in quality to the point where that wasn’t very fun either.)

“The show twisted into something unrecognizable and unpleasant. And so I abandoned Doctor Who just as it had abandoned me.”

The really negatively loaded language here bugs me a lot, but this article is a personal fan narrative more than it is a review, and it’s impossible to refute a subjective response. Clearly, it’s true that Alex Brown and the show were no longer on the same wavelength. So, fair enough.

“If you asked me in 2016 if I would ever watch Doctor Who again, I probably would’ve shaken my head and sighed. The chances of the show making the kind of changes necessary to pull me back seemed slim to none. But here we are, fall 2018, and I am so excited about the Season 11 premiere that I can barely stand it.”

I’m really happy about everyone coming back. I share this excitement!

[I’m omitting a couple of paragraphs here where Brown describes more of what Doctor Who meant to her when she first encountered the show during an obviously extremely difficult time in her life. It’s really moving, and I find it relatable in some ways.]

“With the takeover by Steven Moffat in 2010, my relationship with the Doctor shifted dramatically. As much as I loved Doctor Who, I wasn’t blinkered to its myriad problems.”

See, my issue with this is simply that it implies that people like me ARE “blinkered by its myriad problems.” We’re not. But sometimes we disagree about what those problems are, or where the blame (and praise) for those problems (and their amelioration) properly lies. Hence this post.

“Trouble was, the annoying but tolerable issues were magnified into something unbearable by Moffat’s numerous faults as showrunner. Under Moffat, seasons went from episodic romps loosely knitted together by repeating themes—think “Bad Wolf” Easter eggs throughout the first season—to Lost-style mystery box seasons bogged down in an increasingly convoluted and grimdark mythology.”

I think it’s fair to say that the series 6 arc in particular was much heavier than previously attempted by the show, and this was a turnoff for some viewers. Personally, I liked it a lot conceptually, but I acknowledge that it could have been better executed. It’s also not representative of Moffat’s whole era; he experimented a lot with structure. That in itself was probably frustrating to some viewers–again, I liked it a lot, but that’s neither here nor there.

However, calling the Moffat era “grimdark” is frankly bizarre. It seems to confuse a shift in LIGHTING with a shift in TONE. The Moffat era’s TONE was, if anything, substantially more hopepunk than the RTD era (to say nothing of Torchwood, which Brown also professes to adore).

“River Song, Cybermen, Daleks, and the Master work best when used sparingly,”

Yeah, I agree.

“but Moffat dragged them out of the toy box so often that they lost their appeal.”

A criticism that (aside from River, for whom YMMV) applies equally to the RTD era.

“Even the Doctor suffered from too much focus. Doctor Who is a show that flourishes when it cares more about the people the Doctor helps than the Doctor. The Doctor is much more interesting as a character who drops into other people’s stories than when everyone else exists only to serve the Doctor’s narrative.”

This is a matter of taste, and on that level cannot be refuted.

But I’m not actually sure it’s true that the stories in the Moffat era focused more on the Doctor than was the case in previous eras. It didn’t seem that way to me. I suppose one could develop some way of objectively evaluating the validity of that premise, but I’m not going to go to that much trouble.

“Worse, women went from equals with their own vibrant lives to codependent followers.”

This is not merely a matter of personal taste. It is an assertion about content of the sort which could hypothetically be supported by evidence. If it were true. And it is literally the opposite of true. It’s a gross mischaracterization of the Moffat era companions, and moreover ignores the sometimes-problematic characterizations of the RTD era companions. I’m skipping the rest of that paragraph, which merely rehashes worn-out, shallow readings of Amy and Clara’s characters. I have nothing to say about those arguments that I haven’t said elsewhere before.

“[Moffat’s] seeming disdain for how fans interpreted the series,”

Showrunners SHOULD disdain how fans interpret their work. Or, more accurately, they should ignore it. Since fans are a motley bunch, the alternative would be a total lack of creative vision, either deeply bland or utterly fractured.

“for critiques of his own biases and bigotries,”

In reality, Steven Moffat demonstrated a remarkable openness to critiques of his biases and made steady progress in addressing them both in front of the camera and behind the scenes.

“and for the depth the show was capable of became a virus that infected everything.”

From where I sit, Doctor Who demonstrated far more depth during the Moffat era than during the RTD era (and some of the deepest scripts in RTD’s era were written by Moffat and according to RTD, barely touched by his editorial influence). I’m willing to consider the possibility that the RTD era displayed depths that I failed to perceive, but given the number of times I’ve rewatched it and the fact that I study texts for a living, I have to say I think that’s a long shot. I would welcome a persuasive analysis of the depths of the RTD era.

“I have never been one to shy away from dropping shows that I no longer like, but I held onto Doctor Who longer than I should have. I finally tapped out after the frustrating penultimate episode of Season 6, “The Wedding of River Song.” Reductive, repetitive, and boring, the episode encapsulated everything I couldn’t stand about Moffat’s storytelling.”

OK, Brown has got a point there. I love TWORS for purely personal reasons (it was just FUN, in the same way that the more crazy-ambitious failures often are in Doctor Who), but I’m under no illusions about its quality. In addition to being “reductive [and] repetitive” that episode was also rushed and full of holes. I didn’t find it boring, but that’s a subjective thing.

It’s a bit weird though that Brown claims to have quit watching Doctor Who at the end of series 6, since earlier she critiqued both Clara and Moffat’s “over"use of Missy, both of whom post-date Brown’s purported exit. Hmm. Seems like (as is not uncommon, in my experience) people who dislike Moffat base a lot of their dislike on mere hearsay.

"Although Moffat drove me away from Doctor Who, other factors kept me from coming back. A not insignificant chunk of my exhaustion came from the frustratingly limited diversity and the frequently poor treatment of characters of color—see Martha and Bill, plus the weirdness around the few major interracial relationships.”

OK, this is approximately half fair. There WAS a frustrating lack of diversity which continued well into Moffat’s era. Martha and her weird marriage to Mickey are RTD’s doing entirely. And the author claims not to have ever seen series 10, so she’s hardly in a place to evaluate Bill’s treatment (which, for the record, seemed pretty great to me–vastly better than in any previous era, anyway, though there’s no doubt that there is still room for improvement).

“Prior to Season 11 there had never been an Asian or South Asian companion despite the fact that people of South Asian ancestry make up nearly 7% of the population of England and Wales, according to the most recent census. Islam is the second largest religion in the UK, yet Muslims are also largely absent from the show, and certainly from the role of companion.”

This is a totally fair criticism.

“Moffat said it was hard to cast diversely without impinging on historical accuracy,”

Gonna want a citation for that one; I admit it’s possible he said something like that at some point but I feel like I would remember if he had.

“a notion that is patently false and wholly ignorant of actual history.”

A point which Sarah Dollard makes in the series 10 episode “Thin Ice,” with the enthusiastic approval of Moffat himself.

“To be fair, Moffat also admitted this claim was nonsense and rooted in a white-centric view of history and acknowledged that the show needed to do better…then made absolutely no changes.”

Thanks for being fair…almost. In fact he made substantial changes during his tenure, though most happened after Alex Brown quit paying attention. Seems to me that if you’re going to write an article for a blog affiliated with a major SF publisher, you might actually want to check your facts rather than relying on information that’s several years out of date (if it was ever true).

“And don’t even get me started on frequent Moffat collaborator and Who writer Mark Gatiss who infamously whined about diversity initiatives ruining historical accuracy because they cast a Black man as a soldier on an episode about Queen Victoria’s army battling Ice Warriors on Mars.”

Yeah, this I do remember. Ew, Gatiss! What were you thinking?

“Not to mention Moffat’s asinine declarations that we couldn’t have a woman Doctor becausehe 'didn’t feel enough people wanted it’ and 'This isn’t a show exclusively for progressive liberals; this is also for people who voted Brexit.’”

This is also the man who wrote the first-ever gender-changing regeneration (of the Doctor, no less!) in his comedy special, “The Curse of the Fatal Death,” the first female incarnation of a previously male Time Lord (Missy, who turned out to be incredibly popular), and the first official, non-comedy, on-screen gender-changing regeneration scene (the General, in Hell Bent), thus paving the way for even many of those non-liberal, Brexit-voting audiences to accept a female Doctor, and making it virtually impossible for the BBC not to do it without looking like total assholes (though by that point they were totally on board and needed to further persuasion).

But sure, go ahead and cherry-pick a couple of real-but-not-representative Moffat quotes to perpetuate your misogynistic Moffat pseudo-narrative.

[Cutting the rest of that paragraph because it adds nothing to the critique]

“Why can’t we have a trans or disabled companion? Why can’t the Doctor be a queer woman of color?”

These are totally legitimate questions, and we should keep asking them.

“Do you know what it’s like to be told by someone in a position of power that you don’t belong here? That you are an aberration, a glitch in the matrix, that including you would be so inaccurate that it would collapse the narrative structure of a fictional television show that features a frakking alien traveling through time in a police box?”

Yes. I do.

And when you dismissed Amy and Clara as mere sexist stereotypes, mere codependent hangers-on of the Doctor, you re-inflict that wound on me and many other fans, because you’ve been granted a position of power, a platform in the blog of a major international SF publisher.

“Hearing that message all the time from pop culture is hard enough, but to get it from my favorite show was heartbreaking.”

I feel ya, Alex Brown. This needs to continue to be addressed.

But I’ll also remind readers that the Moffat era, despite its still-too-limited representation, gave us more disability representation than any other era of the show up to that point.

“Cut to the Jodie Whittaker announcement in July, 2017. For the first time in years, I watched the Christmas special—live, no less. To give credit where credit is due, Moffat’s swan song exceeded my (very low) expectations and Peter Capaldi was as excellent as I hoped he’d be. Whittaker had almost no screen time, but what she did get left me with a smile a mile wide.

"On top of her pitch-perfect casting, Thirteen will also be joined by three new companions, one a Black man and another a woman of Indian descent. Plus, the Season 11 writers’ room has added a Black woman, white woman, and a man of Indian descent. Several women will also be directing. New showrunner Chris Chibnall proclaimed that the renovated show will tell 'stories that resonate with the world we’re living in now,’ and will 'be the most accessible, inclusive, diverse season’ ever produced.

"These changes go beyond tokenism and into real diversity work. The show isn’t just sticking a woman in the titular role and patting themselves on the back. Diversity can’t just be about quotas. It must be about inclusion and representation in front of and behind the camera. Marginalized people need to be able to tell our own stories and speak directly to our communities. The majority already gets to do that, and now that conversation needs to happen across the board. The show still has a lot of work to do, both in terms of undoing the status quo of harmful tropes and in laying strong groundwork for later casts and crews. Yet, somewhat surprisingly, I feel hopeful for the show’s future.”

I totally agree with these three paragraphs (except I had high expectations of TUAT, which were also exceeded). In fact these paragraphs are a big part of why I felt like this article was worth sharing. I just couldn’t do it without significant reservation.

“And isn’t hope what the show is really all about? Doctor Who is a story about the hope for a better tomorrow, faith in your companions, and trust that you’re doing the right thing. It’s about a hero using their immense powers responsibly and in order to benefit those who need it the most. The Doctor creates space for the marginalized to stand up and speak out, to fight for their rights against those who would silence or sideline them.”

I’m not totally sure that that’s ever really been true before, but it’s an ongoing aspiration that the show keeps moving closer to.

“For too long, that ideal was lost to puzzle boxes, bloated mythology, and trope-y characters”

No it wasn’t. See above.

“but with the appearance of each new Thirteenth Doctor trailer, my hope grows a little more.

"It’s not often that you find your way back to something you loved and lost. At first, Doctor Who was a touchstone during my trials and hardships. Then it became a cornerstone in the foundation of the new life I was building. For a long time I left it encased in a wall, hidden in the basement of my subconscious, untouched and unwanted. Yet here I stand, sledgehammer in hand, putting a hole in that wall. I have set free my love of Doctor Who as Jodie Whittaker cheers me on. October 7 can’t come soon enough.”

This sentiment is really lovely. Welcome back, Alex Brown, and every other fan returning to Doctor Who after an absence of any length and for any reason. It’s shaping up to be a great new era.

Please remember, though, when talking to other fans, that other eras meant as much to some of them as this one means to you, and for similar reasons.

To those who are leaving because of toxic discourse about previous eras making them feel like their presence isn’t welcome and/or participating in fandom right now will only cause them pain: I’m going to miss you. I hope your DVDs and Big Finish and stuff continue to bring you joy. I hope you’ll come back again when it’s safe to do so.

To those who are leaving because they don’t like the idea of a female Doctor and/or two POC companions: BYE BYE! To be honest, nobody will miss you, but nevertheless I hope that eventually you realize how silly and harmful your biases are. When you do, I hope you’ll come back to Doctor Who. And you’ll be welcome.

[maidenofsophia]

Thoughts on Mary Magdalene (2018)

Here is my completely non-professional review of Garth Roberts’ film ‘Mary Magdalene’:

....Meh.

Okay, to be fair, I watched this on New Years Day when I was slightly hungover so I probably owe it a rewatch with my full attention. But here are my initial thoughts. There really isn’t much to spoil but, for what little is ‘original’ on this take....Spoilers Ahead!

The Good.

- I enjoyed the scenes with Mary’s family. I think the shift to making her a midwife made a lot of sense and reminded me a little of the Red Tent (which, like this movie, also has a squicky scene that reminded me why I never want to give birth, but that’s another point). But I like the connection she had with her....sisters in law, I think? Possibly even a stepmother? To be honest, they don’t do too well establishing who these people are or if it’s just a community sharing a house. The jist I got was that Mary’s blood relatives were her brothers and her dad, who I did like. They were patriarchal and traditional, but they weren’t painted as villains. Even when they try to ‘cleanse’ her, you can see how torn up about it they are, and believe what they’re doing is out of love.

- I especially liked Mary’s dad. Most Magdalene legends always have him as an asshole who just views his daughter as chattel to sell off, but you could tell this dude adores her and stops his sons from almost drowning her, and he holds her throughout the night, clearly wracked with guilt. The scene where he tearfully lets Mary go to join Yeshua was really well done and I’m kinda sad we don’t see him for the rest of the movie. This is mostly a personal thing but I just personally prefer the idea of Mary being close with her father, as something of a mirror to Yeshua and his mother.

- Joaquin Phoenix is a very different Jesus than what I’m used to seeing and I’m glad about that. I can’t say he’s my favourite (that’s still Ralph Fiennes), and yes it’s another sad case of white washing a Palestinian Jewish man. But that aside, I thought he brought a vulnerability to Jesus that you don’t usually see, unless it’s during scenes like the Passion which mostly take place off screen here as it’s all through Magdalene’s POV. Like you see Jesus become overwhelmed and drained by healing people and, like Mary, I did feel like I just wanted to get him away and somewhere safe, even though Peter and the others kept encouraging people to come to the Messiah.

-  As I mentioned before, Mary is given a different backstory here than the penitent prostitute. She’s also not given the ‘madness’ of being possessed by any actual, or implied, demons. It’s more that she’s trapped in a life she doesn’t want and feels depressed, which is definitely relatable, now as much as back then for a lot of people; women especially. So I thought Yeshua’s scene of ‘healing her’ being less of a “Begone demon!” and more him comforting and consoling her, reassuring her of God’s love, was pretty sweet.

- Similar to Mary, this movie follows a bit of a ‘Gnostic’ trend, on its take with Judas as well. He’s given a more personal motivation, as he’s not just out for bloody revenge on the Romans, it’s more that he wants the prophecy to be fulfilled so he can see his late wife and daughter again. Other than her tense relationship with Peter, he’s the disciple that Mary talks to most and they have a close connection to the end. And the movie implies that Judas’ betrayal was ‘part of the plan’ or what needed to kick things into motion....or at least he believed that was the case. It wasn’t just a case of selling his rabbi out for silver.

- Mary baptising the women. Honestly it was seeing gifs of this scene that made me want to see the movie and it didn’t disappoint. It was just a nice moment. Also how they bookended the movie with the verse on the mustard seed and the woman who tended to it tying into Mary helping to grow the kingdom. Also, I LOVE that the focus of her is that she is a spiritual woman in her own right. While she clearly loves Yeshua, it is not even implied to be sexual. Romantic, possibly, but could also be just as much platonic. The two have decent chemistry for what their bond is - SHE IS NOT HIS WIFU. Thank you, movie! Also the scene of her washing his feet followed by sitting at his side at the Last Supper with the shot being framed with her as his right hand girl. Nice little touches that just showed this movie cared about wanting to do the image of Magdalene justice.

Right, now the....Not So Good.

- Anyone familiar with the Gnostic gospels knows that Peter doesn’t always get shown in the best light, especially in his and Mary’s relationship. So, other than the Romans etc, he’s the closest this movie has to an antagonist, in that he’s the one who is most opposed to Mary in the group. And while his character isn’t terrible, he’s not even technically a bad guy, there’s something annoying about how they white washed everyone else but had the antagonist played by a black man. It just annoys me when movies and tv do that, like; “see, we have diversity! The heroes might be white but the guy you’re meant to be against is a poc!” BBC are apparently doing a similar thing with their latest retelling of Les Mis.

- If you’re going to tell a Jesus story through the eyes of Mary Magdalene, how about take advantage of the source material. There’s a pretty good scene where Mary helps Jesus speak to women in a village before she baptises them and he speaks about forgiveness etc and it’s a fine speech. But I feel like opportunities were missed to see Mary involved in canon scenes of Jesus interacting with women; like the woman who touches his cloak in the crowd, or raising Jairus’ Daughter or the Canaanite Woman’s child, or the woman at the well, or the ‘cast the first stone’ woman who is often wrongly said to be Magdalene. The movie also forgets that Yeshua had other women followers besides his mother, who also doesn’t get as much screen time as she deserves. There’s no sign of the younger Mary, or Martha, or Salome etc who we could have seen Mary interact with or even preach to. At the end we get a bit of a cool shot where, after the men have dismissed Mary’s vision, it’s the women who gather to her - but it’s very brief and feels too little too late.

- I wouldn’t be too miffed at them cutting out scenes from the Bible if they were going to replace them with anything interesting and unique, but the movie just...doesn’t. There’s a sort of side quest plot where Peter and Mary go to a village to preach and find a load of people dying and at first I thought the point was that it strengthens their friendship...but in the end it didn’t and I didn’t really understand the point other than to show Mary was compassionate and Peter kind of short-sighted which was already pretty clear. Maybe use that time to establish more why Peter has something against Mary other than just the implication that he’s...jealous, I guess. The movie is almost two hours long and between Mary leaving her family and them coming to Jerusalem, I can barely tell you what happens in that hour or so.

- I get the feeling that this movie wanted to focus more on Mary’s time with Jesus before the Passion, which are scenes we’ve already seen focused on enough times, and I’m all for that. But how the Passion, Crucifixion and Resurrection scenes are handled feel very rushed. She’s absent through most of the crucifixion until the very end, the scene of her witnessing the resurrection is pretty badly juxtaposed (and there’s no “do not touch me” moment) that I had to watch it twice to see if it was really there or a different ‘vision’. And her being the actual Apostle to the Apostles feels like it was trying to mix in the disciples rejection of her from the Gospel of Mary and I felt like you could have had that be two separate scenes. Basically the key moment Magdalene is celebrated, whether in Orthodox or mystic Christian circles, is barely present in the movie centred around her.

- And the biggest criticism I have with the movie is sadly Mary herself. Most of this might be subjective but one of the most captivating traits of Magdalene’s character is her passion. Her energy. It contrasts her to the mild and patient Virgin Mother. This Mary is very quiet and collected, which doesn’t make her a bad character, but it just doesn’t feel very Magdalene-y. And I think you can still have her be passionate while still taking away the ‘mad whore’ stereotype she’s been wrongly given for so long. The Red Tent, again, managed to do a wonderful job having Dinah as a strong, no-nonsense heroine. There didn’t seem to be anything that really made Mary stand out from any other woman around her. She starts off with a bit of a Disney Princess trope of not wanting to get married and wanting more than is expected of her, but given her surroundings and the women she meets later on, that also doesn’t make her stand out all that much. The actress does okay with what she’s given, but - other than some key scenes between her and Yeshua - I just don’t really my Magdalene there.

But, to the movie’s credit, I do feel like it was trying to show THEIR Magdalene, which is fair enough. And just like Yeshua, there really is no one right way of seeing her. I prefer to see her as a loud, loving, somewhat eccentric passionate spiritual teacher and leader, but this movie wanted to show her as something different from what we’ve seen before; brave but restrained, caring and understanding, and definitely enlightened as much if not more than the male disciples. And it did a pretty good way of showing that, even if I think it could have been done better with an improved overall narrative.

Overall; I just kind of found the movie dull. I respect it for trying to show the Magdalene in a better light and almost as an example for women as leaders in the Church. But I hope this can also be done in a more entertaining movie someday. Again, my favourite Magdalene depiction is still from the Miracle Maker. Yes, it begins with following the ‘repentant mad prostitute’ story, but that’s pretty quickly resolved in a powerful scene and she remains throughout the rest of the film at his side and her meeting him outside the tomb always gets me teary eyed. Similar to Prince of Egypt, I enjoy biblical movies more when they don’t shy away from the drama and character conflict, rather than trying to focus on pushing the story we already know. We can all just read the Bible to get that but the point of a movie is to make us feel like we are there and invested and, for lack of a better word, entertained. Animated movies allow more of the drama to get expressed than live action actors can. It’s a shame they are both written off as ‘childrens versions’ because I think both PoE and MM feel more adult and handle their stories with more depth than the live action versions.

Would I recommend this film though? I guess if you’re a die-hard Magdalene fan like me, you’ll get something out of it with seeing a story where she isn’t turned into a prostitute, and getting to see her baptise people and get across how she understood Yeshua’s message. Just don’t be expecting anything amazing. Kind of annoyed there wasn’t a rental option on Amazon Video because I definitely don’t think it’s worth a buy, but hey ho.

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Since Streaky is canon now (yay! :D), I'm wondering, does Streaky exist in the Cool Aunt Kara AU too?

Short answer: YEP.

Longer answer:

Karais not a pushover. She's not.

Shepromised the Danvers that Alex would be in bed by eight. And she is!

Physically.In bed.

...Notasleep, but...Getting there?

“Okaaaaay,have I told you about the time Thara and I—”

“Yes,”Alex chirps, nodding solemnly.

“Howabout that one time I saved Atlantis?”

“Youtold that one last time.”

Karasighs, scratching her head. “Right, okay.” Alex looks at herexpectantly. The deal was, Alex would go to bed, if andonly if, Kara could deliver asatisfactory bedtime story. Kara had hastily agreed, of course, buthad not bothered to read the fine print:

Ithad to be one Alex had never heard before.

“Um...therewas that thing with the batmobile and the tire pump—”

Alexhuffs.

“Youtold that one too!” she says, crossing her arms and frowning. Karaholds up her hands.

“Right,right, okay!”

“It'sgotta be new.”

“Iknow, I know,” Kara placates, “just let me...” she trails off,thinking. She lets her gaze wander a bit, hoping something in Alex'sroom might offer inspiration.

Shockingly,Lego bricks and Barbies don't really jog any exciting memories.

There'sBrian the Otter, lying at the end of the bed, but Kara's alreadyexhausted her cache of Atlantean stories, apparently. A couple ofbrightly colored Beanie Babies, a cheap, carnival-grade Odie andGarfield, won last summer by Jeremiah—

Karastares at the faded orange cat.

“...HaveI ever told you...” she starts, the memory falling neatly intoplace, “about the time I accidentally gave my cat superpowers?”

Kansas,some years ago...

Thesun had not quite set over the Kent farm. It remained perched low onthe horizon, casting everything in an inviting orange glow, thelengthening shadows tinged with violet.

Karaignored the picturesque scene as she trudged angrily towards thebarn, Jon's toolbox in tow. The tools inside clanked noisily witheach step, announcing her intentions to a few stray chickens who hadwandered over from the coop out back.

“Shoo,”she muttered to the nearest one, who just stared and offered a mildlyoffended squawk. None of the chickens cared much for her; probablyhad something to do with her noisy trips to the barn.

(And...there was that one time...with the...super sneeze...)

Itwasn't her fault, though. (The noisy tool box. The super sneeze...that was definitely all her.) It was the dumb pod that was theproblem, refusing to work properly. She approached the craft inquestion, letting the toolbox drop to the hard packed earth floor ofthe barn with a sharp KER-CLANK.

Shetugged the faded blue tarp aside, gathering the material up into acrinkled, messy bundle before tossing it away.

Dull silver metal caught the early evening sunlight, and the glarereminded Kara to trot back to the barn door, and nudge it closed.

Theywere quite a ways from their nearest neighbor, but. They weren't all thatfar from the main road, and the glare would attract attention.

Doorshut, the interior of the barn was decidedly more gloomy, all dullbrowns and dusty air. Slivers of orange and yellow light peeking out frombetween the wooden slats were enough to work by for now, but. Inabout thirty minutes or so, Kara would have to break out the lantern.

Sighing,she approached the pod again, this time clambering into the crampedcockpit. Her hands automatically moved to the controls, muscle memorytaking over from there as she cycled through the safety checks andflight monitors—all essentially useless now, given the current fuellevels.

Ofcourse, she wasn't interested in a joyride, so it didn't matter. Shewas more concerned with the on-board computer, and the knowledgestored therein.

AccessCode: Accepted. The messagescrolled lazily across the readout in the familiar, blockycharacters of Kryptonese. Kara smiled in spite of herfrustration—reading Kryptonian was so...instantand effortless. English always took half a second more.

Query?

Karasighed, pulling a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of herjeans. In smudged ink was a list of possible search topics that,hopefully, would lead her to something, anything on theon-board computer resembling an encyclopedia, or collection of...of...

Well.A collection of whatever was kept on the Sun Stones.

Thenew search terms she had thought up in the last week were just asnonsensical as the ones she'd come up with the week prior, and theone before that, and the one before that. She ran out of logicalinputs well within the first month of trying to extract everythingshe could from the pods—now she was down to the really weirdstuff that was almost certain to bring up absolutely nothing.

Andshe was right, of course, which meant she had to try and deal withthe darn Sun Stones again.

Ah,the Sun Stones.

Wayeasier to use than the dumb controls on the pod. In theory, anyway.

Shegrit her teeth as she climbed back out of the pod, stalking over tothe workbench where, tucked in a hidden compartment, wrapped in aboutfour layers of grease-covered drop cloths, were the six Sun Stonesthat had accompanied the El children on their journey from Krypton.

Everythingthey'd need to know, everything they'd need to survive.

Andunderneath the bundle of red-tinged prisms was the light array thatallowed the information to be read off the nigh-invisible groovesetched in the crystalline surface.

Thevery broken, entirely useless light array.

Sheset the Sun Stones aside, pulling out the pieces of thearray and setting them on the workbench, running her fingers over themetal casings and tiny, fractured parts.

Afterstaring at them for a while, she took a seat on the nearby stool, andstared some more.

Staredand thought. Ran over various solutions to the problem athand—solutions she hadn't yet tried a dozen times over.

Thetask was difficult for a number of reasons, but almost all of themcould be boiled down to the fact that Earth simply wasn't equipped todeal with this technology—all the tools at her disposal wereso...so primitive. Taking a wrench to this was a sure fire wayto cause even more damage. (Kara knew, because she'd triedthat and all she had to show for it was more broken pieces.)

Shesighed, reaching for the most intact portion—the housing of thesmall deltahedron core. That, thankfully, was stilloperational. The core emitted a bright, cheerful sort of blue light,and hummed almost imperceptibly. She was trying to find a way tojust...bypass all the broken bits and make due with the workingpieces, but. Without the actual light part of the light array,all she really had was an extremely efficient battery and...yeah. Anextremely efficient battery.

“Maybe...maybesomething with magnifying glasses?” Kara muttered to herself,pulling the deltahedron from the housing and blowing off a bit ofdust that had settled on the surface. The barn door behind hercreaked, and Kara turned, ready to tell the intruding chickens to getlost.

Exceptit wasn't the chickens, but rather, the large, orange tabby that hadtaken up residence in the hayloft.

“Oh,hello,” Kara greeted the cat happily. She much preferred hercompany to the chickens. “Want back up in the loft?”

Thecat didn't answer (she so rarely did) and instead trotted to one ofthe posts and rubbed her flank along the corner, purring noisily.Kara stood to shut the barn door, but before she could do so, threetiny kittens scurried inside.

“Oh,hey!” she exclaimed, grinning. “You've got a family!” shepaused, something clicking. “That explains the round stomach...Ikinda thought you were just. Overeating.”

Again,the cat ignored her, but the kittens...they took a keeninterest in Kara's presence, sniffing at her work boots, pawing ather feet for attention.

Shehesitantly granted their request, keeping the interactions to pettingonly—she didn't really trust herself to handle the tiny things—theylooked so small and fragile, and she...she was clumsy. And superstrong.

Theyseemed pleased, though, purring up a storm and mewling happily. Karafound herself delighted by the distraction.

“Youguys are so cute,” she remarked softly, “And way more interestingthan broken Sun Stone tech.”

Thesmallest of the bunch—another orange tabby with a random whitepatch on its side—meowed loudly in what Kara had to assume wasagreement.

Sheliked that one. A lot.

“Areyou guys hungry?” she asked, carefully standing. She was prettysure Martha had some sort of canned meat on hand. “I don't think wehave tuna, or anything. But. We might have that fake ham stuff.”

Therewas no cry of protest (not that Kara really expected one) soshe figured that would work. She briefly wondered if she should putthe Stones and array back in the workbench, but. She wouldn't be gonethat long.

“Beright back,” she promised, hoping they'd stick around a bit longer.They were a great distraction, yes, and infinitely preferableto angrily fiddling with the array all evening, but. Moreimportant than that...

Karawanted to show Clark.

“Whatwere the cats' names?” Alex wants to know.

Karapauses, mid-recollection, momentarily caught off guard.

“What?”

“Thecats' names,” Alex repeats, only slightly exasperated. Apparently,this is vital information that she needs. Right now.

“Well...therewas Streaky...” she frowns, trying to remember. “And Fluffy, Ithink? Or Fuzzy...no. Fozzy. And the other one was Kermit. Yeah.” She looksover at Alex.

She'sfrowning. “Those names are...okay, I guess.”

Karashrugs. “Clark likes the Muppets.”

Alex doesn’t pursue that line of questioning further. Instead, she has others: “Isthe light ray the one my dad fixed?”

“Yes.”

“Didthe mom cat have a name?”

“No,we just called her barn cat.”

“Howmean were the chickens?”

“Verymean.”

“Howdid the cat get powers?”

“I'mnot there yet.”

“Oh,yeah. You gotta finish it.”

“Yes,well. May I?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay,so. The SPAM...”

“What'sit?” Clark asked as Kara tied his shoes. Martha stood by, plate ofprocessed meat product on hand, ready to go.

“It'sa surprise,” Kara told him with a grin. Clark wiggled eagerly,reaching for his sweater, and tried to hurriedly tug it over his headwithout Kara's help.

Hegot a little bit tangled, the sleeves turned at an odd angle, but hemanaged to get his head through.

“Iwanna see!”

“'Kay.But you have to be quiet,” Kara said, straightening thesweater. Martha laughed as Clark covered his mouth with his hands.“And no peeking, either,” Kara made him promise, though shedoubted he'd be able to get his x-ray vision working properly. Hewasn't quite...there yet, in terms of control.

Still,she did want it to be a surprise, so she waited for Clark toagree.

Whichhe did, with as much enthusiasm as he could muster while still beingvery, very quiet.

Karachuckled, and took the plate of meat from Martha.

“I'llbe out in a minute,” Martha said, turning back to the kitchen.“Just have to finish up the green beans.”

“Okay,”Kara said, taking Clark's hand. The two made for the barn, and Karareviewed the rules.

“We'regonna be quiet, right?”

“Yes!”he cried.

“Shhh,”Kara said, and Clark nodded, this time whispering back, “yes!”

Satisfied,Kara opened the barn door and told Clark to take the plate (with bothhands!) over to the middle-ish of the barn and set it on the ground.She could see the mother still basically in the same place she'd lefther, and spotted two of the three kittens playing with some hay a fewfeet off to the side.

Clark'sface lit up when he saw them, and it was clearly a strugglefor him to walk slowly to put the plate down, but he managed.

“Stayquiet and still,” Kara instructed, knowing that he'd want to petthem as soon as they approached. “Let them eat first, okay?”

“Okay,”Clark once again agreed, watching with rapt attention as the catscame over.

Well,as most of the cats came over. Where was the third one?

Karalooked towards the loft and the stacked bales of hay, but saw nottrace of the orange kitten. It wasn't by the pod, either. Where—

Somethingclattered, and then a loud buzzing filled the barn. The catsbristled, and Clark clamped his hands over his ears.

Karafelt the color drain from her face, recognizing the soundimmediately.

Thedeltahedron.

Shespun on her heel and—just as she feared—the orange kitten hadbeen batting around the sphere that Kara had left out on theworkbench.

She'dknocked it to the ground, and Kara could see, even from several feetaway, that the outer shell of the core was cracked. Blue energypulsed and sparked...

Butworse than that?

Thefact that the dumb catwas still playing with it.

“No!”Kara yelped, rushing forward with super speed as the kitten raised atiny paw, and the core burned bright blue with energy. She grabbedthe kitten in one hand, the core in the other.

Bigmistake.

Thecore burned on contact, and for a terrifying moment, Kara could feelthe energy as it raced up her arm and into her chest. The kittenyowled, clawing from her grasp a split second before she dropped thesmoldering deltahedron.

Bothlanded on the barn floor, but only onetook off for the safety of the hayloft, her siblings close on her tail.

Clarkwas crying, surprised by the loud noise and worried something hadhappened to the cats, or his cousin, or both.

Andthat of course,brought Martha running from the house, as Kara hissed and mutteredunder her breath and wondered if she should apply cold water to the burn,or just stand out in the sun for a bit.

“Whathappened?” Martha asked, rushing first to Kara, and then to Clark,once Kara waved her off.

“Catsmessed with...with a thing,” Kara struggled to explain, still a bitrattled by the whole experience. Deltahedrons were some of thesmallest power sources they'd had back on Krypton, but geez...didthey pack a punch.

“Shhhh,shhhh, hey, it's okay, it's okay,” Martha was telling Clark, overand over. Kara nodded, forcing a smile.

“Yeah,I'm fine Kal,” and she would be, so it was kinda true. “I'm sorryI yelled, I was worried about the kitty.”

“IsKitty okay too?” Clark wanted to know, sniffling. Kara x-rayed thebales of hay, and saw the entire cat family, spooked, but otherwisefine.

“Yeah,”Kara told him, pointing to the hayloft with her good hand. “Theywere just scared by the loud noise.”

“Likeme?”

“Yeah,”Kara said again, and winced as Martha tugged at her hand to get abetter look.

“Whatdid you say the cat was messing with?” she asked. Kara sighed.

“Adeltahedron.” She hissed as Martha continued to inspect the burn.

“Well.I have no idea what that is, but I'm surprised it managed to burn you,what with your thick skin and all,” she mused quietly. “You tellme—do we treat this like a regular burn?”

“Idon't know,” Kara admitted. “I think it'll heal, but...” hereyes were starting to sting, because the burn was starting to hurt.“Um. Could we...?”

“Iceit in the meantime?”

“Yes,please.”

Atwhich point, Martha ushered both Kryptonians back to the house,though Clark protested a little—he wanted visual proofthat the 'kitties were good.' (His words.) And it was only Martha andKara's combined persuasive arguments that he finally acquiesced,allowing the trio to go back to the kitchen, where Martha procuredfrozen peas and some aloe vera for Kara's hand.

“Yousaid the cat gets superpowers.”

“I'malmost there, okay?”

Thecats were scarce after that, and Kara couldn't blame them. Sheherself was less than eager to return to working on the light array,as it would involve patching the deltahedron's shell.

Notexactly something she was looking forward to.

Herhand did heal on itsown, but not before she spent several hours whining about it.(Because it hurt andwhat a dumb thing painwas. She'd been without it for about four years and she didn't missit much.)

Clarkkept asking about the 'kitties,' (again, his words) and desperately,desperately wanted hiscousin to find them.

“They'renot in the hayloft, Clark,” she groaned after he asked for the sixhundredth time as to their whereabouts. “I don't know where theywent.”

“Findthem,” he suggested, and Kara sighed.

“Ican try,” is all she was able to offer.

Clarkwas not pleased.

Butat least he stopped asking after that. And Kara thought the issue hadbeen dropped.

Untilone afternoon, a few days later, when she returned home from schoolto find Martha scolding Clark in the living room.

“Clark,”she said, tone stern. “Did you do this?”

Shegestured to some scorch marks on the rug.

“Kittydid it,” Clark said with sincerity.

Karahad to stop herself from laughing out loud.

“NowClark,” Martha bent down, so that she was eye-to-eye with him. “Youknow kitties don't have special eyes like you do.”

“Theorange kitty does,”he insisted, and looked back at Kara, who had set her bag aside, andtaken a seat on the bottom most set of stairs in order to tug off hershoes. “The one Kara touched. It glowed blue!”

Andof course. Neither Kara nor Martha believedthis outlandish tale about a glowing blue cat with superpowers. Thatwould be ridiculous.

Marthawas getting ready to further interrogate Clark when Jonathan walked in from the kitchen, cleaning his hands on arag.

“Thereyou are!” he exclaimed, beaming at Clark. “I wondered where myassistant had wandered off to.”

Marthablinked.

“Hewas with you? Out in the barn?”

“Allmorning.”

Karaand Martha stared at one another for a moment.

“Clark...”Kara says slowly, “where did Kitty go?”

Kitty,as it turned out, went quite a few places. All they had to do wasfollow the trail of smoldering destruction.

“Thankgoodness she didn't go back to the barn,” Jonathan muttered,stamping out a small fire in a tall patch of weeds.

Thekitten certainly lookednormal, and perfectly content to nibble on some blades of grass. Butstray sparks of blue energy would occasionally arc up her spine, andwhen she sneezed, well.

Karaunderstood why the rug wound up scorched.

“So...so,”Martha folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head, staringat the cat. “Your...deltahedron? Is that what you call it?”

Karanodded. “Yes.”

“Yourdeltahedron...gave a kitten superpowers.”

“Idon't...think so,” Kara frowned and thought about the incident, andthe odd feeling in her arms and chest. “I think...Ihad something to do with it.”

“You?”

“Yeah,I...” Kara wasn't sure exactly how to articulate, nor could sheactually prove it,but. Hedrons didn't give people powers. They just...didn't.

Thefact that her weird alien DNA had been literally standing between thehedron and the cat, though.

Thatwas food for thought.

“Theenergy went through me, first. So...” Kara shrugged. “MaybeI...rubbed off on her.”

Jonathanlaughed, and Martha shook her head.

“Wellthat...certainly is something.”

Clarkgiggled in delight as the cat sneezed again, and sent up a spray ofsparks. Both Jonathan and Martha took a step back, while Kararemained seated in the weeds.

Thekitten shook herself, licked her paw, and promptly trotted overbefore curling up in Kara's lap.

“O-oh,”Kara exclaimed, surprised but also...not-so-secretly pleased. “Um.Hi.”

Thecat sneezed again, and Kara flinched, but the sparks didn't hurt. Notmuch, anyway.

Theydid burn small holes in her shirt sleeves, though.

“Wecan't let her wander off,” Jonathan surmised, taking a look at thepatch of smoking earth. “Last thing Smallville needs is a felinearsonist running around.”

“Sowe let her burn down our house instead, hmmm?” Martha asked with a smirk.Jonathan shrugged.

“Well...”

Asthey went back and forth, trying to figure out how to deal with thesuperpowered kitten, Kara thought about the deltahedron, and thecracked casing of the shell.

“Ithink,” she interrupted the two of them. “I have an idea.”

Karacarried the cat back to the barn; neither Jonathan nor Martha couldrisk being zapped by weird Kryptonian energy, for obvious reasons.(Those reasons being: injury, and/or accidental superpower acquisition.)

Clarkoffered, but Kara didn't trust him to keep a tight enough grip on thecat—or maybe, it would be tootight. Clark's powers were still developing, but even at this nascentstage, they were potent.

Shedid, though, eventually have to pass the kitten off to him in orderto work. She was less concerned, however, because Martha and Jonathanstood guard at the barn door, ready and armed with welding masks andrubber gloves, should the cat make a break for it.

“Holdon tight, but not too tight, okay? Be gentlewith the kitty,” Kara instructed, belatedly realizing that sheherself had managed to transport the animal without squishing it. 

It was a pleasant surprise.

Clarknodded, and the kitten settled comfortably into his small arms. Hereverently stroked her head, using the lightest touch he couldmuster.

Karasmiled, and retreated to the workbench, where she regarded thedeltahedron casing with something of a resigned air.

“Thisis gonna make it harder to fix, isn't it?” she hadn't noticed thatJonathan had joined her. She curled her fingers into a fist, pressingher knuckles into the surface of the workbench. It creaked a little, but didn’t splinter.

“It'lltake a bit longer, yeah,” she told him. Though...it wasn'tentirely...truthful. It implied that there was even hope of fixingit in the first place, and. What with the deltahedron no longer being stable, and the amount of materials she'd need justto put the brokenparts back together, let alone the whole system...

She...shejust knew. That she'd never be able to get it to work.

“ButI mean...” she looked at Jonathan. “It's...my fault the cat'slike this. I have to help her,” she said, and then, frowning,added, “and I reallydon't want her to burn down the farm.”

“Yeah,I think we'd all like to avoid that,” he teased her.

Shetook a deep breath, reached for the casing, as well as Jonathan's boxof tools, and got to work.

Thecollar was not pretty.

Weirdhunks of alien plastic stitched onto mismatched scraps of nylon, itlooked less like a collar, and more like a collection of junk, strungaround the cat's neck.

Butwhen the cat sneezed?

Thesparks were drawn to the Kryptonian material via a process that, evenif Kara could explainit to Jonathan and Martha, their human brains would have no frame ofreference for it. Earth lacked the necessary scientific terms todescribe it.

Neitherof them seemed too concerned with the 'why,' though.

“Justso long as it works,” Jonathan remarked, pleased to see the collardoing its job. “Now she can come in the house.”

“We'rekeeping Kitty?” Clark asked somewhat breathlessly.

Jonathannodded. “She already pretty much lives in the barn.” The catsneezed, and once more, the sparks leaped to the collar. “And Idon't think we want to explain...that. To folks.”

BothMartha and Kara shook their heads. No, they did not.

“Soshe stays!” Jonathan declared, and Clark shrieked with pleased laughter.

“She'llneed a name,” Martha told the two of them. Kara and Clark thoughtfor a moment, staring at the kitten.

“Ilike Kitty,” Clark said.

“Simple,straightforward...” Jonathan nodded. “No frills...”

Karawasn't so sure.

“Well...whatabout...”

“Kermit,”Alex guesses.

Karais once more forced to an abrupt halt, stumbled by the interruption.

“What?No!” Kara says. “Streaky. We named the cat Streaky.”

Alexpushes up from her pillows and leans forward. “How come?”

Karasmirks and points back to the pillows. Alex huffs, and lies back downas Kara re-tucks her in.

“Becauseof that white spot on her side,” Kara says. “Like. A littlestreak. So...Streaky.”

“Whynot Sparky?”

“Becausethat's...” Kara blinks. “...Oh, that's...that's actually...prettygood,” she mutters under herbreath, before coughing and continuing. “Erherm. Clark likedStreaky.”

“Well,tell Clark it's a weird name.”

“I'lllet him know.”

“Andthat Sparky's better.”

“Gotit.”

“Thanks,Kara,” Alex says, pulling up the covers and reaching for Brian theOtter. Kara helps bridge the gap a bit, bringing the stuffed animalcloser so Alex can grab him. “That was a good story.”

“You'rewelcome,” Kara says, and can't help sounding a little bit pleased.She leans over to turn out the light. “Nightlight?”

“Psssh,no, nightlights arefor little kids.”

“Right,sorry.”

Shebids Alex goodnight, giving her a quick hug before turning off theswitch and heading for the door.

“Um,wait...” Alex says. Kara turns.

“DoesBrian need the nightlight?”

“...Yeah.”

“Thoughthe might,” Kara says, stooping to plug it in. “Night, Brian.Night Alex.”

“NightKara.”

Fin

[renaroo]

This is so completely random, but you're very probably the only Batfam Stan that also loves the Superfam and knows the various members of both families. I was wondering, in your mind, which members of the Superfamily match up with which members of the Batfamily? Like for instance, I've always firmly believed that Linda-Mae matches up with Dick, while Karen goes with Helena. As far as Babs goes, they share her.

If I’m reading you correctly, you’re asking who roughly inhabits the same spots in the Superfam that the Batfam has, yes? It’s really a fascinating question because I think there are lots of comparisons to be made, but it’s also interesting because of the ways they don’t line up perfectly. Like there’s a big difference in their structure just by the fact that Lois is the clear matriarch of the family and almost none of the Superfam have been without a relationship with her. So getting comparisons for some positions does tend to get a little fuzzy. So, I’m just going to go through the family one by one, starting with the most obvious which is Clark and Bruce. 

Clark Kent: Obviously as the central family patriarch and the one who basically inspires everyone else to come into their own while attempting to live up to his impossible image, Clark is the most Bruce-like in comparisons. Which of course, their similarities are as strong as their differences which has been the source of their mutual respect and friendship over the decades and just make them incredibly fascinating characters to play off of each other in almost any circumstance. 

Lois Lane: In recent years Kate has kind of stepped up to be the momma of the Batfam in a sense, and to be Bruce’s equal which would be representative of Lois and Clark’s equal footing in their relationship, but Kate’s got much less of a background for this position and for obvious reasons her relationship with Bruce is nothing like Lois’. In that way I would put Lois much more as a Selina Kyle. They share a street smarts and sassiness, prefer to look out for themselves but can’t help but fall into the same circles as their romantic interests, and in most realities end up married. It’s not a perfect fit, but I would argue it on more than a few grounds. 

Jimmy Olsen: Definitely the Dick Grayson of the Superfam. Not only is he Superman’s pal, but he’s sort of the emotional bond that keeps a lot of the Superfam connected. He’s not only trusted by both Clark and Lois and inspired by both of them, but he’s also a confidante and romantic interest for Kara, was a friend to Linda, and in general is someone who is just by definition associated with Superman. It’s an iconic duo in a lesser sense than Bruce and Dick. 

Martha Kent: Originally I was going to say Pa is the Alfred, but honestly Martha Kent is most definitely the Alfred Pennyworth of the Superfamily. She is a supportive and endearing voice, full of wit, and is the first person Clark goes to when he needs advice or solace. She is beloved by all of the Superfam members and has ben denmother/actual mother to nearly all of them in one sense or another. 

Jonathan Kent: The more I think about it, the more I find that Pa is really a lot like Leslie Thompkins in Clark’s life. He has a bit of a harsher vibe to him and his disappointment is something that Clark is more conscious and fearful of, but it all stems from firm morality and a fear and protectiveness of his son. He is the guiding light for Clark’s humanity and is the sort of man that Clark tries to live up to without ever feeling he can fully achieve it. And all that despite clearly having well defined flaws of his own. 

Lana Lang: Hilariously enough, I would put Lana on the level of a far more important and far more relevant and updated Vicki Vale. Again this seems like a strained comparison (because it is) but she’s a former romantic interest and friend to Clark who loves him but also couldn’t deal as well with realizing that he is Superman or at least that he’s something beyond her comprehension. And there’s still some pining and nonsense there, fortunately Lana is with John Henry now and written much better. Speaking of which...

John Henry Irons: A less murdery and more accepted member of the Superfam than his Batfam equivalent, John Henry Irons is a lot like Helena Bertinelli in that they both were inspired by the “patriarchs” of the family, but did things in their own style and in their own ways. He relies on his background and heritage as much as Helena does and it has influenced him to where he is today. 

Kara Zor-El: An apt comparison for Kara is actually Barbara Gordon. Not only were they good friends in the Bronze Age, but they were similarly motivated. Despite both of them having just as much heartbreak and tragedy in their lives as Batman or Superman, they make the choice to not be defined by that and instead to invent their superhero identities as a way of fulfilling an obligation they feel either to law and order or to the sense of not wanting to lose their adopted new home to the same forces that took their old one. 

Natasha Irons: Is absolutely the Superfam’s Stephanie Brown for better or worse. Nat is selfmade, has a family history of criminal activity but chooses to follow her uncle and Superman’s influences instead to make herself a superhero. Despite all she achieves, for absolutely no reason that makes canonical sense to... anyone who’s read it, basically, John abruptly decides she’s undeserving of her suit and takes it from her? That causes her to make some mistakes and play into a trap by one of the family’s worst enemies and get held hostage and tortured. Fortunately she wasn’t needlessly killed like Steph, but she did come back in spectacular fashion. 

Mae Kent: Mae is a completely different character from Linda Danvers. Mostly. Kind of. So I’m going to treat them as such on this list. Mae is actually Clark’s adopted sister in the preboot and was taken in and cared for by Ma and Pa Kent. She’s fairly independent, making a name for herself outside of Clark even if they continued to have a good relationship. When Clark dies for a year, she is one of the top contenders for taking his place and becoming a surrogate Superman herself. In this way she most reminds me of Kate Kane, self-made while deeply connected to the family patriarch and sharing a family bond. 

Karen Starr: Completely depends on which version you’re going with but if you’re going with the most common, the preboot, I think Karen is the most like Harper Row. She’s a solid member of the family, but she’s also beyond the family, and it’s not in a bad sense. She’s still connected to everyone, and every inventive and set apart almost purely based on her industriousness (making her business empire!) but as much as she does team up with everyone and join frays, she’s mostly off on her own adventures these days and most of her drama comes from civilian life rather than just her time as Power Girl.

Kon-El: This is going to be so freaking controversial but here we are. If I was to pick any analogue in the Batfam for Kon it would not be his best bud Tim, but his fellow leap-before-thinking, bit of a bad boy, fellow leather jacket wearing Jason Todd. They both like coming back from the dead and having inexplicable genre jumps throughout their histories and their main angst comes from a conflict of ideals and perspectives with their parental figures. Kon also is constantly concerned with going over the edge and turning to a villain because of his “bad genes” which reminds me a lot of how Jason felt judged for growing up and being born into a situation outside of his control. 

Linda Danvers: It’s a bit of a cheat since they’re my favorite heroes I grew up with at the time, but when I think of Linda I always think of Cassandra Cain. Linda was not born into an abusive home life, but she was part of an abusive relationship and made mistakes that eventually led to a death. Unlike Cass, however, Linda’s death was her own. That was the turning point in her origins and from that point on she was led to being Supergirl out of not just a weird combining with Mae but through discovering a deeper level of morality and humanity than she had once seen inside of herself. And that became such a strong light in her life, she was even able to inspire the redemption of the very demon that had been responsible for her murder. 

Traci Thirteen: It might be a bit early to call this, but I think Duke Thomas is the most positioned in the Batfam with Traci. Traci initially was a pretty independent character who mostly worked under the “advisement” of Clark and came into her own with her own identity and style. They both have good families they lose to tragic circumstances and slowly find their place within the gaggle of other children in their families. 

Maggie Sawyer: Like I’m not saying it’s a purely lesbian thing, but it’s kind of the lesbian friend detective in the force who goes above and beyond and may or may not be a hero in their own right thing that I compare Maggie Sawyer and Renee Montoya. It’s a thing. And it’s a thing that unites them because they both have banged Kate Kane. Which is the real dream.

Cir-El: My poor sweet daughter is of course far too similar and too unused much like my other dear sweet daughter, Helena Wayne. They are both daughters of the matriarch and patriarch of the family from alternate futures that may or may not ever happen. They hold their father’s values and their mother’s attitudes and they both have awful terrible first costumes. 

Chris Kent: Even though their personalities are starkly different, there is definitely a common thread between Chris and Damian Wayne. They come from troubling childhoods and have difficulties with the concept of unconditional love. Their only aspirations are to live up to expectations and take the mantles of their respective fathers. And for as much trouble as it may cause them they stand up against the villains they fear most in the final hour even under threat of pain or death. They both have a “I choose my real family” moment with a parent that mistreats them, too. 

Jon Kent: This may seem like an odd comparison for now, but I get a Tim Drake vibe from Jon. Hear me out, there’s a lot of superhero worship and naivety about what his new superhero identity is going to bring with it. And while he’s much younger and less detectively minded than Tim, Jon draws on his knowledge of his father’s legacy as well as what he observes from his friends and other superheroes around him to creatively get himself out of jams. Not to mention he loves giving those moralizing speeches. 

Perry White: He’s Jim Gordon. Next.

Krypto the Superdog: THE ONE THAT ACTUALLY MATTERS. Ace doesn’t go out much into the field anymore so the most apt comparison here is actually Goliath the Bat Dragon. Aaaaand that’s what I’ve got. 

I hope this all made sense I had fun writing it out lol