#because it's pretty clear that this boy is going unacknowledged a lot of the time

[loveatfirstwriteblog]

A Complete Analysis of Harry Potter

Like a lot of kids, we probably grew up on Harry potter. We were obsessed and rightly so. The universe created in the world of Harry Potter was, and is, a hugely successful one because of the fact it gave kids a world where magic exists! It seemed to be a great world to live in and it made even better with the fact that it included elements of empowerment, Whether it be showing girls can be just as successful if not more in various pursuits(Hermione), or the fact that even if you have a history of bad events, you can have a good heart(Hagrid), Harry Potter teaches us a lot.

JKR has written a mind-blowing plot in a world of magic, wizards, witches, wands, potions, friendship, love. Our inner-five-year olds--and actually most of our young adult selves too--jumps around excitedly at the beautifully penned words that creates an exit out of this world and into one where magic does exist. 

As you get older, though, you begin to think of Harry Potter in a more critical fashion. The thought of “oh my god, it’s magic” no longer completely overrides my mind, but more of “but what are the laws regarding this? Can people just do this whenever they want? Are there no ethics?” 

No matter how much we’re going to expose the flaws and plot holes in HP now, we’ll always love the books--we grew up on them! But some things just niggle you as you get older, and that’s what we’re going to be focusing on in this post.

Something I adore about the HP books is that everyone, including the “good guys”, has flaws. Harry has a “save the world alone, do first, think later” complex, a driving force that makes him go save Sirius, Ron is very, very insecure to a point where he ditches Harry twice, probably when Harry needed him the most, Hermione is a judgemental, narrow-minded nag (her thoughts on Luna, divination, Trelawney, basically anything that doesn’t fit her black and white world), Molly Weasley is misogynistic and blatantly favourites her children—probably being one of the main factors behind Ron’s insecurities, Arthur is condescending towards Muggles and makes several comments you cringe at while reading the books as a young adult/adult, Sirius, Snape, and Lupin still haven’t let go of their childhood grudges and hatred, etc etc etc. 

These flaws are what make these characters so three-dimensional, so layered, so human. But the problem was, most of these flaws are never intentionally acknowledged. And honestly, that could have been such a good character arc, because the main characters are mostly students. No student is the same through their teenage years—they change, they evolve, they get over their flaws, they try to better themselves. I would have loved to see Ron becoming his own person, Hermione opening her mind up a little, etc. 

Neville is not one of my favourites, but I love his growth and development, from someone who was scared of his potions professor to a man who faced down Lord Voldemort. Ginny Weasley could have had character development, from the trauma she went through in second year, but that was never written in.  She went through this terrifying ordeal when she was only twelve years old, and jump to a year or two later and she’s absolutely fine, with no transition from her trauma whatsoever.

Some of JKR’s characters are brilliantly written and fleshed out, but some of her others lack the structure and complexity that usually comes with being vital to the plot—Ginny Weasley for one. Her internalised misogyny also plays a huge part in the way her female characters are written. We see this again in the case of how she wrote the character of Ginny. 

Ginny Weasley is not a favourite of ours (if you don’t know that by now). She feels a lot like a convenient male daydream—when she waits for Harry to notice her by dating other guys, gets annoyed by Hermione “not knowing quidditch”, etc etc—and fits the “not like other girls” archetype too much, almost like she was made for it (hint hint). She’s portrayed to be strong-willed, spunky, and independent, and I love the idea, but I really don’t see it. To me, she’s a very shallow character, the least fleshed out one. 

Just like James Potter wasn’t necessarily redeemed just because JKR said he was, and Ginny isn’t interesting just because JKR writes that she is. 

Hermione also fits the archetype, but she’s JKR’s self-insert, so we really can’t say much about that. 

To make things worse, Ginny and Hermione are pitted against each other in a very subtle way. Ginny is the sporty, pretty, flirty girl who’s never single from book 4. Hermione is the not-conventionally-attractive, nerdy girl who’s had a few dates here and there but never a relationship. They’re very different characters (the only thing they have in common is the archetype) but they’re against each other in the defence of Harry. 

Another place where JKR’s misogyny shows up is the way other girls are written. Lavender Brown is shown as vapid and immature, just because she likes clothes and boys and didn’t know how to handle her first relationship. Cho Chang is perceived as shallow because she’s emotional. Pansy Parkinson is seen to be throwing herself at Draco Malfoy. The Weasleys hated Fleur because she was beautiful and sexy and French, and that was ever really resolved in the end (Molly accepted her, but we never got Ginny’s and Hermione’s opinions again). You see where we’re getting at? The typical “girly girls” are portrayed as insipid, shallow, emotional, and boring, while girls like Hermione and Ginny are seen to be fun and multilayered. 

The problems with Harry Potter don’t just stop with non-fleshed out characters. There are plot devices that go unacknowledged, issues like blood purity—which is the basis of Voldemort’s tyranny—are never really resolved, huge Chekhov’s guns that aren’t fired. 

A common misconception, which if cleared up could probably expose a load of problems in wizarding society by itself, is that the wizarding world is racist. It’s not racist. Muggles and Muggleborns are not a different race, they’re a different class, at least according to pureblood wizards. Mudblood is a classist insult (a direct reference to nobility blueblood and aristocracy).

Another factor that wasn’t talked about but made the HP world so complex and realistic is the inherent classism in every single pureblooded wizard, including the Weasleys.

 The “Light” wizards all operate on the notion “at least I don’t kill or torture Muggles”. The Weasleys refuse to talk about Molly’s squib cousin who’s an accountant, the Longbottoms were so desperate for Neville to not be a squib they nearly killed him trying to force magic out of him, Ron makes fun of Filch for being a squib, thinks house-elves are beneath him, and confounds his driving instructor in his mid-thirties, the ministry workers kept obliviating that muggle at the quidditch World Cup, etc. 

This could have been a metaphor for how small prejudices and microaggressions (kind of the wizarding equivalent of white privilege) enable discrimination and murder, if JKR had actually acknowledged it. 

The parallel to Nazi Germany is very twisted and definitely shouldn’t be taken too far, but the Nazi ideology grew on the basis of everyday antisemitism, “that’s not that bad” little things. Voldemort’s circle and army grew because the wizard superiority complex festered and blew up in some people, egged on by a deeply classist society. 

Ultimately, Harry Potter has very, very shoddy worldbuilding, the kind of worldbuilding that’s obsessed with answering the “what” of the wizarding world, rather than the “how” or the “why”, which is strange, considering that fantasy or dystopian-era novels’ driving plots and conflicts are usually answering the questions the worldbuilding raises--The Hunger Games and The Shadowhunter Chronicles are two of the best examples of brilliantly written YA fantasy and dystopian novels. 

In HP, however, the main plot just avoids the questions the worldbuilding brings up like the bubonic plague. 

Voldemort’s agenda is built on prejudice towards Muggles and Muggleborns, but the plot just validates the negative perception of them—at the end of the day, being a wizard is what’s special. The Statute of Secrecy is the foundation of the main concept—blood supremacists believe wizards shouldn’t be hidden away—but only vague, barely-there answers are given to why it exists (a Chekhov’s gun that was never fired). 

There are love potions that function like date rape drugs (even Harry was given one by a girl who wanted him to ask her out), potions that force people to tell the truth, potions that literally let you disguise yourself as another person, but the ethics are never talked about, and the laws are so lax that three twelve-year-olds broke them and were never caught. 

But at the same time, the worldbuilding is so authentic, because it transforms the wizarding world into straight-up fridge horror. The everyday horrors are just accepted and rolled with. A corrupt government, constant obliviation of Muggles, slavery that isn’t even talked about. These things aren’t obvious to us as readers, or to the wizards as characters, because they match up to the real world, which is filled with things that are horrifying if you dig deeper. The multiple, normalised forms of abuse, police brutality, the violence in prisons that nothing is done about, the glaringly obvious cultural problems we have with consent, etc. 

The abusive authoritative figures in HP, like Rufus Scrimgeour, Cornelius Fudge, Dumbledore, Umbridge, etc, are so authentic because real-life politicians and people in high places of power behave that way, and their abuse is excused. 

The wizarding world is just like the real world. Corrupt, prejudiced, messed up, but if you’re privileged, or at least have certain privileges, you’re probably not going to notice. The ultimate problem is that the plot doesn’t acknowledge a lot of fridge horror things are messed up either, which is why it miserably fails. 

[mircallablue]

So, in the wake of BeauJesters seeming passing, I’m going to take a moment to be more than a little self-indulgent and explain why I love these characters and their unique dynamic so goddamn much, as well as why I’m so disheartened by the way the show seems to be taking them. Warning: essay ahead lol. This is just a rambly rant that I’m writing because it’s cathartic to vent a little bit of frustration, and I love these characters so much. (and I love the entire cast, every goddamn one, and every other character in the show too. This is about love, not hate). 

So, for a few brief and wonderful episodes in this campaign, I actually believed that I was being told a love story about falling in love with your best friend, and figuring out your sexuality, while also unlearning all of the untrue lessons that the world taught you about love while you were growing up, and in so doing, finding value in yourself. Which, for me personally, is just super relatable. Like, that ticks every damn box I have lol, which partly explains why I love BeauJester so much, and I know a lot of B/J shippers feel the same. I’ve shipped B/J from super early on, but I never in a million years really believed it would happen, for a lot of reasons. Mostly homophobia, biphobia and heteronormativity. But I enjoyed their dynamic nonetheless, even though I thought (and was often TOLD by other shippers) that it didn’t stand a chance in hell of happening. 

So you can imagine how VALIDATING it was when Marisha, both in character and out of game, confirmed that Beau had very significant romantic feelings for Jester. All of the crumbs we’d collected over the course of the campaign were finally coming together and all of the gaslighters who told us we were delusional suddenly had to acknowledge that there was something there. And once it had been acknowledged, it was OBVIOUS. Omg it was so obvious and I loved every second of it. It was so undeniable for the next few episodes, and in hindsight, that there was something building there between them, there was potential. There was definitely a connection between these two characters. And for a few weeks, it was great. 

Then Liam - out of character - mentions that Caleb is in love with Jester. And it is immediately, fandom wide, treated with more respect than Marisha and Beau. 

I know a lot of people get very very angry when this is brought up, but it is just the ugly, unfortunate reality that a lot of people in this fandom treat Jester like a manic pixie dream girl. Even the people who do not consciously believe her to be that (and I don’t think there are many that genuinely believe it), are perfectly fine /treating her/ like one, as long as it serves one of the straight men that they love so much, usually Caleb. And this is where the heteronormativity comes in. Because even though it was an out-of-game confession with no bearing on canon, Calebs feelings immediately took precedence over Beaus in terms of the fandom narrative. 

I personally have never liked the way Liam handles romance in game. He did pretty much the exact same thing in campaign 1 as well, where his sad boy pines after the happy girl from afar until he’s uncontrollably in love with her, and then with no warning he drops it like a bomb. He just happened to drop it out of game this time. The main reason I don’t like this style of romance is because of how (unintentionally) manipulative it is. You see it in bad romcoms all the time. The guy makes a public declaration of love that pressures the girl into reciprocating or looking like the bad guy. But the main reason I don’t like /this particular/ declaration is the timing. 

Liam - who has always said he likes things to come out in game - inexplicably decides out of game reveal something as major as Caleb being in love with Jester, right after Marisha IN GAME took steps towards Beau and Jester being together. And it completely changed the narrative. Suddenly it was “top table top table”, and that's if Beaus feelings ever got mentioned at all. It was not at all helped by the fact that a lot of cast members (sam) still pushed Fjorester HARD, even with Jester telling Nott to stop, which must have sucked for Marisha/Beau. But even as recently as episode 99, Beau was still flirting with Jester, and there were definite hints at Jester maybe having unacknowledged feelings for Beau.

Then the hiatus happened. When we return, Beau is throwing herself at Yasha, and there’s not even a song for Jester on her playlist.  And then Travis reveals (also out of game, like Liam) that Fjord has feelings for Jester (in a playlist heavily curated by known fjorester, Dani Carr). And even /that/ is treated with more weight by some fans than Beaus in canon confession. And Yasha is having all of these super convenient dreams where Zuala tells her its ok to move on, and Beau and Jester are barely speaking. And now Beau is calling Yasha her GIRLFRIEND? WHAT??? Did I miss 20 secret episodes that aired during hiatus or something???? Beau and Yasha have still, in 107 episodes, only had ONE meaningful conversation and yet their relationship is being treated as deep and inevitable. Sure, you can read into their other interactions if you want. But as a queer person, I am sick to death of my love needing to be represented as subtext.

And so it has become pretty clear that the cast has decided out of game to go in a different direction. And of course they are well within their right to do that. But I just can’t help feeling incredibly disheartened, and again, more than a little bit gas-lighted. It really does seem as if Beaus' feelings for Jester have just been scrubbed from canon - as if they never even happened. All, seemingly, to make way for a typical happy-girl-sad-guy relationship with either Fjord or Caleb, and a typical pair-the-spares barely-any-depth relationship between the two out lesbians because its easy.

For the entirety of campaign 2, BeauJester has been treated as one thing - inconvenient. Inconvenient by the fans, who prefer other ships and have treated BeauJesters terribly, and now it seems, inconvenient by the cast, who have seemingly discarded it and scrubbed it from canon. 

And one thing that really upsets me is the amount of genuine viciousness and vitriol coming from (some) BeauYasha shippers. I really wish BeauYasha was something I could get on board with, I do. And a lot of people who are sending me hate seem to assume I don’t want them to end up together. But I would be fine with that. But as it stands, they’ve literally only had one real conversation in 107 episodes, and they’re calling each other girlfriend? While literally having not spoken about anything like that? While one of those characters is supposed to have canon romantic feelings for another woman? Imagine that situation with any other characters and it would be comical.

I swear, the queer ladies in this fandom have been done dirty. All of us. Imagine if, in campaign one, Grog and Keyleth, in episode 107, started calling each other boyfriend/girlfriend in the middle of a battle. (I picked those two because they probably had the fewest moments together of any VM pairing). That’s pretty much what happened here, and we’re supposed to like it - be grateful, even - because it’s wlw rep? And I swear, the number of times I’ve been called lesbophobic in the last month is absurd - all because I’m not comfortable with a canon lesbians canon feelings being swept under the rug. All because I want wlw relationships to be allowed to have the same depth and growth as the straight ones. Yes, even if that relationship is B/Y. We should not settle for less. Imagine if they had done this with any other character's canon feelings for another. People would be angry.

And I know there are going to be a lot of people saying “It’s their game, they can do what they like”. 

True. I never said otherwise. But it is also a show. It is a product. They sell merch. It is something that they have taken the time and the steps to make sure that we care about. And this is what that looks like. 

I know what happened here isn’t technically queerbaiting, but damn if it doesn’t cut the same.

[agent-cupcake]

So, what do you think the femblem cast would do for jobs irl? Appreciate your stories by the way, beasty and the bard is my favorite so far

I’m trying to work through older asks more like I used to with HxH, shorter form stuff, you know? Anyway, this is silly so a good starting point (also thank you! I love writing that story and going through my inbox I saw so many kind messages. I didn’t reply to them, but know that everyone’s words mean more than I can say)

Dimitri - There’s fanart of him as a firefighter and I like that. However, I guess it’d make more sense if he had a net worth we could only dream of and inherited a company of some sort from his father so that’s what I’m going with. Aside from running that, I think Dimitri would be someone who uses his fortune to engage in a lot of philanthropic work. Also, bless modern mental health care. 

Dedue - If we’re going aesthetics, Dedue would also be a Firefighter. Or a famous chef, famous for his intimidating appearance contrasted with his world-famous dishes. Although, hear me out. Dedue was someone whose city or w/e was destroyed by negligence or conflict of some kind and he works with Dimitri to protect his people and built his home back up.

Felix - Raised in a wealthy military family, Felix enlisted and served in the Army as soon as he was able but became disillusioned with the military after the death of his brother and returned home. After that, he became super involved with martial arts and wound up opening a gym, inadvertently taking in other young and disillusioned kids and giving them a healthy method of self-expression.

Sylvain - Rich boy. Bad reputation. E-Celeb. He lends his skills to the social media inept Dimitri to promote and help with all of his philanthropic work. He does a lot of good things but keeps it under wraps to maintain his superficial image. 

Ingrid - She runs Dimitri’s personal security force with a side gig of anonymous restaurant reviewing.

Annette - Chemistry professor at a university and rabid overachiever who makes consistent strides in the science world and inspires her students. She knows the Faerghus crew because she’s gone to them to make a case for funding scholarship programs.

Mercedes - Mercedes went to school to became a nurse, which is where she met Annette, and then she met Felix through Annette. Since many of the kids at his gym aren’t likely to go to get actual medical help, he calls her if there are any incidents. At the same time, she is an active participant in her local church and charity drives.  

Ashe - Okay I think he’d have a really idealistic sense of justice as a kid, but that slowly became warped as he grew up. He met Ingrid through Felix’s gym and wound up getting a position on Dimitri’s security team, seeing the work that Dimitri does as a sort of justice.

Edelgard - I wanna say like a politician or lawyer, but the fictional kind where they have solid values and beliefs and do good things in the name of justice. Edelgard would be more vocal about her desire to change things entirely rather than follow the system as it is.  

Hubert - Obviously he works with Edelgard. Sharing her ideals of justice, he acts as a behind the scenes confidant of sorts. Irl he’d be a bit less simp-y, working with her because he believes in her ability to make a change rather than some blood-intrinsic duty.

Ferdinand -  Similar to Edeglard, but more invested in the idea of working within the system to make a change. Despite that conflict, they do work together quite often, respecting the ideals of the other and acknowledging that ultimately they do want the same thing.

Dorothea - Musical theater STAR who is very passionate about social issues, namely the treatment of younger and less famous people in the industry. She uses her platform to promote up and coming actors and all of the backstage production crews that are so often ignored and abused.

Caspar - Head of Edelgard’s security for sure. Grew up a rich kid but separated from his family pretty much completely, deciding to make his own way in the world.

Linhardt - Tech guy. Cybersecurity maybe? At some point, he got hired by Edelgard and works with Caspar bc ofc he does. He makes it clear that it’s not an issue of morality that makes him loyal, but because it’s a fun challenge. 

Petra - An ambassador from a smaller country trying to establish more friendly relations for her people. People underestimate her because of her language skills, which actually works out for her sometimes because they don’t expect her political maneuvering. 

Bernadetta - An extreme introvert who inherited her father’s company but manages most of it remotely, also focusing on her artistic endeavors. Probably has a super popular webcomic appealing to comically exaggerated introverts everywhere.  

Claude - He attended a prestigious university and quickly fell into a career in journalism. Not like, trashy tabloid style, but actual journalism that is well researched and meant to hold people in power accountable. His background and source of wealth are mysterious, leading people to spend an inordinate amount of time speculating about his race online. Claude also uses memes and snappy editing as misdirection. 

Hilda - She’s famous for being famous and rich. However, in the midst of all of that fame, she befriended Claude and actually came to stand for a cause. But on the lowest of keys, most of what she posts is makeup reviews and glamorous photos. Gamer girl.

Lorenz - His father's Thomas Wayne, but like... The bad Thomas Wayne from Joker. Weapon production and everything. Lorenz changes that, though, focusing more on those Bruce Wayne endeavors. Except he’s not Batman, but Batman’s flamboyant, eggplant-headed brother. I love Lorenz I’m sorry boo

Ignatz - An artist, of course. Works in animation, maybe? He’s drawn all of Hilda’s graphics and sprites and stuff. She even paid him!  

Raphael - He does a lot of manual labor, taking on odd jobs or anything in the name of supporting his sister. 

Lysithea - After graduating top of her class, she began working in the medical field, researching cures and other helpful medicine. Claude keeps her discoveries from going unacknowledged, and Edelgard has actually had a donation drive to fund Lysithea’s work. 

Marianne - She owns and runs an organization that focuses on taking on animal cruelty and taking care of mistreated animals. She’s incredibly organized and efficient in the way she handles things and sees results through her various charities and request for funding. 

Leonie - She works in a private security organization once run by Jeralt, taking on whatever job she gets hired for. Leonie is more interested in the work than the jobs. Drinking, too. 

[kewltie]

“Papa, we need to talk,” Kasumi says, strolling into the living room with a thick binder tucked against her chest.

“Yes?” Papa stops folding their laundry and turns to her, adopting a serious expression on his face. “Unicorn’s vomit?”  

Kasumi nods her head. Unicorn’s vomit is their secret code for dire, serious business that requires their full attention. “It’s about your marriage,” she answers gravely.

Papa blinks. "Say that again?"

"Marry," she says, enunciating the word carefully. "It's about time for you to get marry, so I brought some options for you to choose from."

"Kasumi-chan, I thought we’d talked about this." Papa frowns, looking concern. "I'm happy with just us two. I'm not looking for another person to add into our family."

Kasumi sighs, because they did but Papa fought it off every time like it's her happiness is on the line here and not his. She got this though. Didn't spend an hour rehearsing her argument to not win.

“Papa," she starts, "I’m getting older now and one day I won’t be able to take care of you anymore—“

“You’re ten,” Papa cuts in.

Kasumi scowls. “That’s not the point though! I’m just saying I can’t always be with you and I don’t want you to feel lonely when I’m not there.”

“I won’t be alone,” Papa points out. “I have your grandmother with me.”

“Who will die before you,” she counters viciously. And then, she sends a silence apology to grandmother for using her against Papa. “And where will that leave you?”

Papa winces. “Can we please not speak of death so early in the morning?”

Kasumi’s lips thin in displeasure, but she lets her shoulders hunched over, making herself smaller as she says, “I just want you to be happy and surrounded by someone who can love you even when I’m not there.”

Papa's eyes soften at her words.

Jackpot. Now going in for the kill, Kasumi looks away for a second and drops her voice to a slight tremor like she can barely contain her emotion. "A—and I always wanted to know what it's like to have another parent like all the other kids."

"Oh, Kasumi-chan," Papa breaths, and there's a slight wet sheen to his eyes. He catches her free hand in his and squeezes it comfortingly. His lips wobble precariously but he holds firm enough to says, "Okay, I understand."

Kasumi tries not to smile but it's near thing.

It's a silence and unacknowledged victory, but she'll take it. "Perfect," she declares, pulling away from Papa enough to show him her portfolio. "This," she points toward her binder, "is 'Operation: Get Papa a Rich Handsome Alpha Husband' or as I call it 'Get rich or Die Trying'."

"That's—" Papa frowns, making a face before finally settling on, "a cute name."

Kasumi puffs up her chest proudly. It took her some time to come up with it. "Isn't it?" She opens the binder and steers Papa's eyes to the first page. "Now, I'd carefully handpicked and narrowed down a handful of viable candidates so far for you. I'd chosen only the best of the bests for you, Papa!" She flips to the next page where several categories are listed out. "I placed each candidate in order by how they fair in the ratings in the criteria I found them in."

Papa cocks his head thoughtfully. "Such as?"

"Well, wealth for one, then looks, family oriented, reputation, employment," she starts, listing them off one by one, "character, likeability, past relationship, education, health, and feelings toward the quirkless."

Papa's eyes twitches. "That's very thorough, Kasumi-chan."

"I did my homework." She preens. It took her several months to gather all the necessary information needed for her data sheets, but she'd pulled through. The fact that a lot of things can be found on the internet had helped a lot, but it was a long and arduous work. Anything for her Papa, indeed.

"Thank you for the hard work." Papa's eyes crinkle and he smiles softly at her. "You're amazing as always, Kasumi-chan." And it's this kind of thing that make Kasumi's heart soar because only Papa, her dearest Papa, make her feels so elated that he wants to launch herself into his lap and scream in joy. She’d known that she’s strong and mighty only because she got Papa to support her up.

At the end of the day, Kasumi is really no good without her Papa.

So, right, she got a mission to complete. "Of course." She clears her throat. Turning several pages forward, she lands on a spread with a picture glued to a corner, several graphs, and blocks of text all over it. "Now, the no. 1 candidate so far at a 7.2 rating is Hirota Ryuu—"

"Our family doctor?" Papa's brows furrow. "And your highest is a 7.2 out of what, a ten?"

"Yes, Hirota-sensei! And there's always room for improvement." She huffs. "Not everyone can be as perfect as you and me, Papa."

Papa stifles a laugh into his hand. "Okay, go on."

"Alright," she says, straightening her back. "For one thing: he's handsome enough that you won't get bored looking at his face, he's a doctor so he must make enough money to spoil you, and he's nice. All the kids and parents I'd interviewed like him a lot. And so do you." Kasumi eyes Papa pointedly and Papa blushes. “He’s blond. Just your type, Papa.”

"Well, he is handsome," he admits wistfully. “And I do like blond hair.”

"Good," she nods her head, pleased with herself, "because I gave him bonus point for that. Anyone that you attracted to get extra points for making you happy,” she says, touching a careless hand to a stray blond hair of her own. Papa really does like blond hair.  

Papa's lips wobble again and he reaches out for a hug but she steps out of the way, shaking her head. "Nope, not until I'm done then you can give me all the snuggles and kisses you want," she says, like it's a heavy burden to be basked in Papa's loving attention and care.

Papa's face fall as he sits back down, but he holds himself still and rapt in attention before her again. "Okay, so," she plows on, "Hirota-sensei scores pretty good all across the board, but the only reason his score is that low is the fact he's a serial dater." She makes a face."I can't have Papa competing with others for sensei's attention when it's the other way around. Your partner should always put your first and foremost!"

"Right," Papa agrees in amusement, which made Kasumi's narrow her eyes slightly because this is serious business.

It's Papa's happiness on the line here, so she's not playing around. "Alright, so next we have as candidate no. 2 is," she says, flipping several pages ahead, "Todoroki Shouto or as he is known to the public Hero Synergy. He's a 7.0 and a pretty good catch overall. I think he’s good secondary choice."

Papa perks up at that.

"You love heroes and he's from a family of them so that gave Todoroki-san a huge advantage over the other competitors,” she continues. “And if you look at his income bracket—”

Papa grimaces. “Kasumi-chan, is that category really necessary? Isn’t just enough if I like him at all?”

Kasumi gives him a look. "Papa, I may be young but I'm no fool," she says, rolling her eyes. "Love alone is not going keep a roof over our head and put food on our table. Here," she points toward a number distribution chart, "this is the average annual income for a top ranking hero. Since his father was a former no. 1 and he also got a good reputation with the public, Todoroki-san has a good amount of sponsors and contracts. That’s mean he’s loaded, Papa,” she says the last sentence carefully in case Papa hadn’t pick up the clue yet.

Papa heaves an amused sigh and nods. “Alright, he’s rich got it.”

“Now, his only downsize," Kasumi grimaces, "is that he got the personality of a brick wall."

Papa chokes out a laugh. "You shouldn't say something like that, Kasumi-chan!"

"Well," she starts, looking heavenward in annoyance, "he is a little dull. His interviews all come off as tedious as watching paint dry and I nearly fell asleep a minute in watching them. His beautiful face can only get him so far. A handsome partner is fine but if their personality is nothing but a stale bread then you'll only get bored later. Emi-chan told me that a relationship need some spice in it to spark passion," she explains. Emi is only a months older than her, but she held hand with a boy before so she knows what she's saying.

Papa reels back, flushing. "You're too young to have that kind of conversation with your friends."

"Okay," she lies effortlessly, like the lying liar that she is. "So moving on to no. 3 now." She turns the page once more, but this time reluctantly as she lands on the next one.

"He's—" she pulls a face, "not my prefer choice but, here is Bakugou Katsuki or Hero Ground Zero as you may know him with a 6.9 rating."

Papa immediately stiffens at that name and eyes zeroes in on Bakugou's page right away. No surprise there.

Growing up, how can she not noticed that Bakugou have always been a trigger for Papa. "I don't like him," she states flatly with narrowed eyes. "Sure he's handsome, powerful, and is the no.1 hero in Japan but he's also rude, belligerent, and annoying." She can tick off all his flaws all day, she isn’t going to waste her breath on him. "There are other candidates fairing much better than him all other categories. He's only rated so high," she eyes Papa meaningfully, "because you like-like him so much."

Papa stutters. "W-what?!”

"I know about the photos of Zero you've collected and hidden under the bed! You don't have to lie to me, Papa," she says, smiling sharply. "I know of your crush on him. You watched his entire interviews and bought all his merchs like you don't know I wasn't going to find it eventually. I even think he’s the reason you have such a blond fetish."

“Don’t say fetish. Who even taught you that word?” Papa drops his face into his hand and groans. "Mercy. Mercy, please, Kasumi-chan. Let me live.”

“I just pity any offspring produce from his DNA,” she grumbles. “They’re probably as terrible as him.”

Papa lifts his head and breathes, “Oh, Kasumi-chan, you’re going to regret those words so much.”

[madasthesea]

COULD YOU WRITE A STORY WHERE TONY CALLS PETER BABY OH MY GOSH THAT WAS THE CUTEST THING!!!!!!!!

i. on accident

Tony figured that since he had been dealing with insomniafor well over ten years now, he would have no problem adjusting to having ababy. He was so, so wrong.

He doesn’t know what it is about adding a baby to the mixthat makes him so exhausted, but at the moment he’s sprawled nearly boneless onthe couch, trying to keep his eyes open to make sure Morgan is doing alright.Sleep sounds really nice right about now.

As it is, though, Peter’s coming over in just a minute andTony probably should be awake to greet him.

As if Tony has summoned him, the elevator doors suddenlyopen.

“Hi,” Peter calls as he enters, kicking off his shoes. “You looklike death.”

“Thanks, Parker,” Tony mumbles. “Oh, hey, could you grabMorgan’s binkie? I left it on the counter.”

“Sure.” Peter’s young and energetic and doesn’t have a three-month-old,so Tony doesn’t even feel slightly guilty about having him get it when Tony hasbeen trying to force himself to get up for the last fifteen minutes.

Peter comes over and hands Tony the binkie, then makeshimself at home in the small amount of space Tony has left on the couch.

“Thanks, baby,” Tony mutters, his eyes half closed.

Until he realizes what he just said.

Really, it was bound to happen eventually. Tony calls Morgan‘baby’ almost more than her own name, and one of his favorite nicknames forPeter is ‘buddy.’ It’s a perfectly logical, understandable slip when he’s astired as he is.

It doesn’t make it any less embarrassing when Tony’s eyes flyopen and he sees Peter staring at him stunned with a dark blush coloring hischeeks.

“Um,” Peter says. There’s a crooked smile slowly turning uphis mouth. “Did you just call me baby?”

“Nope,” Tony says hastily. “I was… talking to Morgan.”

Peter raises an eyebrow, seeming to enjoy Tony’shumiliation. “And what exactly were you thanking her for?”

They both turn and look at where Morgan’s having tummy-timeon the floor, blowing spit bubbles and batting at a stuffed animal. Tonyflounders for a moment.

”Existing, Peter,”he finally snaps. Peter laughs.

“It’s ok, Mr. Stark, you can call me baby if you want.”Peter’s smile turns sharp. “Afterall, everyone must seem like babies when you’reas old as you are.”

“Watch it,” Tony warns, the threat losing all manner of heatwhen he slumps back against the couch again, a small smile tugging at his lips.

He hears Peter go over to Morgan and start cooing at her.Tony opens one eye and watches as Peter drops down onto his stomach in front ofher.

Tony smiles. His babies.

It actually sounds kind of nice.

ii. injured

Peter’s screaming.

The bullet wound would have been bad enough, but after onlya minute it becomes apparent that the bullet has been poisoned.

Tony’s already called for MedEvac, but Peter’s screaming andsobbing and now there’s nothing Tonycan do.

He wishes he could hold the boy’s hand with his own, but hehas to keep the gauntlet engaged or Peter will break his fingers. He’s alreadycrushing the suit enough that Tony will have to cut it off.

“Peter,” Tony begs. “I know it hurts, kid, I know.”

Peter sobs again, tears mingling with sweat on his face. He’slaying against Tony’s chest, Tony’s arms holding him up. He’s thrashing so muchTony can barely keep hold of him.

“Tony,” Peter pants, seeming barely aware of what’s going onaround him. “Ugh, Tony, please.”

“Just hold on, ok?” Tony says, keeping his voice low so itwon’t break. His eyes sting but he can’t move his hand up to wipe the tearsaway.

Another wave of agony must race through Peter because hescreams again, the sound tearing out of his throat, ripping it raw.

Tony squeezes his eyes closed. He presses his lips hard to Peter’stemple.

“It’s ok, baby,” Tony whispers. Peter doesn’t even hear him.“It’s ok. I’m here.”

Over the sound of Peter’s next whimpering sob, Tony hearsthe quinjet above them.

“Oh, thank heavens,”Tony breathes. He kisses Peter’s temple again. “It’s alright now.”

iii. sleeping

Morgan goes down to bed easily for once, which Tony willnever complain about.

He carefully closes the door to her nursery before makinghis way back to the living room, where Peter is waiting to start another movie,which will almost instantly put him to sleep. Tony would put money on it.

“Alright, my infant is asleep,” Tony announces as he comesout. “Now time for my grumpy teenager.”

“’M not grumpy,” Peter grumbles into the decorative pillowhe’s laying against.

He is grumpy. The poor kid had been up til four in themorning working on a project, and despite protesting that eight is too early togo to bed, he seems ready to collapse at any second.

Honestly, Tony wouldn’t mind joining him.

“Whatever you say, kiddo,” Tony says.

Peter gives him a baleful glare that means he knows Tony’shumoring him, but still sits up and lets Tony take back his place on the couch.

Tony stealthily shifts a little closer to Peter. Once themovie has started, he very gradually coaxes Peter into leaning against him.

As Peter gets heavier against him, his breaths slowing withsleep, Tony finds himself drifting off as well.

He stirs when Peter does.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispers.

“Yeah, baby?” Peter’s wonderfully warm and solid next tohim, a comforting weight.

“The movie’s over.”

“Sure is,” Tony agrees after blearily squinting at the TV,where the credits are rolling.

“We should go to bed,” Peter says, burrowing closer to Tony.

Tony hums.

They wake up the next morning still curled up on the couch.

iv. comforting

Peter’s trying to hide the fact that he’s been crying, andthat hurts Tony almost more than the fact that Peter has been crying.

“Kid,” Tony murmurs. Gosh, even looking at Peter’stear-stained face is enough to make Tony’s chest ache.

Peter’s bottom lip immediately starts trembling.

“Hi,” he says, and it must take a lot of effort to make hisvoice sound even close to normal.

“Baby,” Tony tries again, because no matter howunacknowledged it is, he knows Peter likes that nickname. It’s what May callshim, it’s what Tony calls Morgan. He thinks it makes Peter feel like someone’schild again, like family.

That does it. Peter’s face screws up, then he’s practicallythrowing himself into Tony’s arms.

“Hey, woah.” Tony catches him clumsily, but draws Peter asclose as he can, trying to hide him in his embrace.

“I was too late,” Peter hiccups. “I could-couldn’t save her.”

Tony swallows, buries a hand in Peter’s hair. It doesn’t matterhow long Peter’s been Spider-Man, every time someone dies it hits him just ashard. As much as it breaks Tony’s heart, having to hold him while he cries, he hasnever respected another hero more. It’s so much easier to let it numb you, butPeter never does.

“I’m sorry, Pete,” Tony whispers. “I know how hard it is. Iknow.”

“She was twenty-one,” Peter wails.

“Oh, baby. My Peter. It’s not your fault.”

They’ve had this conversation before and they’ll have itagain. For now all he can do is let Peter cry.

v. saying goodbye

“Kid.”

It’s so quiet amid the chaos, but he has Peter’s attentionin an instant.

“Tony?” Peter’s voice is tremulous. He knows something’swrong. Even if he can’t sense it, he can hear it Tony’s voice.

“As soon as you have the chance, grab the plans and run.”

“And what are you going to do?” Peter asks. Tony can’t seehim, they’re on opposite ends of the building. He would give anything to seehim again.

“I’m going to give you that chance.”

“Tony, no,” Peteryells, but Tony talks over him.

“You should have time to get out. You’ve got to hurry, Pete,ok? Don’t stick around once you’re clear, just go.”

“No, no, I won’t—”

“It’s going to be ok, baby,” Tony says without thinking. Heshouldn’t lie to his kid, but he needs… he needs something, permission orcourage or absolution or somethingbefore he blows up the building and himself with it.

“Please don’t do this,” Peter is sobbing over the line. “I’mcoming right now, we can figure this out together.”

“You’re my kid. You know that, right?” He’s already inposition.

“I know. I know. Please, Tony.”

He thinks about Morgan. About Peter.

His babies.

“Now.”

There’s nothing but roaring, scorching red. Then suffocatingblack, ringing with Peter’s screams.

i. to other people

He is, admittedly, a little loopy from pain medicine when Steve,Nat, and Sam come visit him. They’re not really supposed to be there, but theyare. He figures he isn’t really supposed to be alive, but he is, so he doesn’tsay anything.

Pepper comes in after they’ve started running out of smalltalk, bless that woman. She’s carrying Morgan and Peter trails behind her.

Steve, the sap, practically knocks the other two over as heclaims holding Morgan first.

“That’s my baby, Morgan,” Tony says. He’s not slurringanymore, which is a relief. He’s still a little lightheaded, which is less ofrelief, since he’s pretty sure that’s why he then waves a hand at Peter andsays, “And that’s my other baby, Peter.”

Peter stammers a small, “Well… he means… um…”  

Pepper comes to his rescue. “Adopted baby.” Ok, she kind of comes to his rescue.

The three Avengers exchange confused looks, but Sam rolls withit. “Ok. Nice to meet you, Peter.”

“You too,” Peter mutters, then comes and sits by Tony’s bedand pulls up his hood to unsuccessfully hide his blush. He still holds Tony’s hand, though, so he’s obviously not too mad.

[peterparkercuddles]

Brothers in Training

Tony and Peter had been working down in the lab when Tony spoke up about the thing he’d been meaning to tell Peter for a few weeks.

“Hey, kiddo, I need to talk to you about something. And before you get all worried, you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to tell you something; you might even be excited,” the man said, and Peter’s head perked up from where he’d been focusing on his work. “What is it?”

“Well you remember me telling you about Harley, right? I met him a few years ago,” Tony waited for Peter to nod in acknowledgment. “Well, he’s coming up here for a few weeks, so I wanted to give you a heads up.”

“How long is he staying for?” Peter asked, suddenly anxious at the thought of Tony taking more of a liking to Harley. They had known each other longer after all. “Don’t go all thinky on me there, kid.” Tony pointed a finger at Peter; he knew the kid well enough to know he was probably going over all the horrible outcomes that had a 0.001% chance of happening. Peter smiled shyly. “Sorry,” he said. “You know it’s alright kid; I just don’t want you worrying yourself. You know I love you,” the man smiled, going over and placing his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Now, what are we working on?”

Peter smiled. “Just some more pre-cal. You wanna help?”

“You know I do.”

+

It had officially been summer break for a week when Tony broke the news to Peter. “Hey, Pete, guess what we’re doing tomorrow.”

“What?” Peter asked, and Tony smiled. “We’re going to pick Harley up!” Tony exclaimed, and Peter grinned excitedly. He’d spent the last few weeks convincing the boy that Harley coming would be great, and that it would be like having a brother the few weeks he stayed with them. Peter had slowly gotten more excited, and by that time, he was just as eager to pick Harley up as Tony was.

“I’m really excited,” the boy had said. “Do you think we’re gonna be good friends?”

“Of course I do,” Tony had answered. He had every reason to believe they would be. After all, the two were both incredibly smart, and they were close enough in age, with Peter getting nearer to his fifteenth birthday as Harley neared his seventeenth. There was no reason to believe anything would go awry. Of course, Tony had no true idea of knowing how the boys would really get along, but being best friends seemed likely.

Well, he was wrong.

The next day, as Peter and Tony stood hand in hand at the airport- the boy was too shy for his own good- they waited for the flight Harley would be coming off of. Once Tony caught sight of the boy, his face lit up and he shouted, ”Harley!”

“Hey, Mechanic!” the boy yelled back with a dramatic wave, and Peter made a face.

“Mechanic?” he asked, and Tony kept his smile as he replied, “Oh yeah, that’s what I called myself way back when I met him; it stuck.” As Harley finally made his way to the pair, he dropped his bags and embraced Tony with a smile. Peter pretended it didn’t sting to be left unacknowledged, but of course he’d be more excited to see Tony, Peter thought logically.

Once the two pulled away, Peter held his own hand out to Harley. “Hi, Harley! It’s so nice to meet you,” the boy said with all the enthusiasm he had, which was quite a bit.

“You must be Peter,” the older boy said as his much larger hand enveloped Peter’s, and the younger boy swore he saw a grimace as his hand was shaken. “That’s me! Tony’s told me all about you; I’m really glad you’re here!”

“Glad to be here,” Harley replied, picking his bags up and looking away from Peter. “Well, car’s this way, let’s get your bags in and head back to my place. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do!”

Tony’s eyes shone with happiness as he helped Harley grab his bags and load them into the car, Peter trailing behind the pair. He tried not to feel jealous as the older boy immediately hopped into the front seat with Tony without even looking in Peter’s direction, and he tried even harder not to feel jealous when he also knew the lyrics to the song Tony turned on.

I’m being unreasonable, Peter thought. I live with him, I don’t need to sit in the front seat, or know the lyrics to the songs he listens to.

Still, the young boy could feel the envy creeping up on him, but he shoved it away and put on a smile, one he hoped Harley would return.

He didn’t.

+

It didn’t take Peter long to realize that Harley maybe-sorta-kinda didn’t like him.

The southern boy had only been there for a day and a half, and yet he’d only spoken to Peter when he was prompted to by Tony and he’d taken every opportunity to roll his eyes once the man had looked away. Peter tried not to let it bother him, Harley didn’t know him was all, he’d told himself. That didn’t mean it hurt any less when Harley pushed past him when Tony wasn’t looking, or when he gave Peter’s projects a look of disgust.

As bad as it made Peter feel, he was still glad things weren’t totally horrible. Yeah, he and Harley didn’t get along, which was disappointing, but he was no Flash. But when Harley pulled him aside as he was walking out of the bathroom his third day there, he realized that maybe he’d been wrong. Because yeah, he didn’t go after him the way Flash did, but he lived with him, for a few weeks at least.

“Hey, Peter!” he’d said as the younger boy walked out of the bathroom, looking up to meet Harley’s eyes. When he saw nothing but malice, he looked down.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Peter looked back up to the older boy, feeling more intimidated by the minute.

“What is it with you?” Harley’d asked, and Peter gave him a look of confusion.

“W- What do you mean?” he’d asked, and Harley scoffed.

“I mean, you never leave us alone. Jesus Christ, I bet Tony’s tired of you breathing down his neck. I’ve only been here three days and I’m already tired of it.”

Peter was taken aback. Had Harley really said those things to him, in his own house? And was he really that irritating; did Tony really get tired of him the way Harley said he did?

“I-I’m not trying to be in the way. I-I always go in the lab with Tony; we work together,” Peter stuttered out, trying to make it clear he didn’t mean any harm.

“W-W-Well leave us alone,” Harley replied, mocking Peter’s stutter and making him feel even worse than he already did.

“Oh, and now you’re gonna cry? Seriously? You’re fourteen, not four. You shouldn’t need Tony holding your hand and you certainly shouldn’t need him to wipe your tears. Clean it up and leave us alone.”

With one last eye roll, Harley was off, leaving Peter to stand, stunned, in the hallway.

After that encounter, Peter made sure to leave Tony and Harley alone. If the two were in the lab, he stayed in his room, and if the two weren’t in the lab, then he took himself down there to work, alone. As he worked by himself, he realized he couldn’t fathom how Tony ever worked alone, as he was beyond lonely. But if he had to be lonely for a few days to get away from Harley’s eye rolls and glares, then so be it.

Peter thought he was being pretty sneaky about avoiding the two. When they came up for lunch, Peter pretended like Ned was calling, and when they walked in on him in the lab, he pretended as though he was hungry. And then Ned was calling. Or he was tired. The list went on and on, anything to escape Harley’s hatefulness.

Tony, however, definitely realized something was up. He wasn’t stupid by any means; so when Peter ducked out of the lab for the fourth time in two days, he knew something was going on.

“Hey, Pete, c’mere. I wanna talk to you,” the man called as he walked into Peter’s room. Always eager to please, the boy spun around in his chair to face the man, eyes wide as if he were asking, ‘what’s up?’

“What do you need?” Peter asked, a nervous edge to his voice.

“Well,” Tony began. “I noticed you’ve been avoiding Harley and me.”

“N-No I haven’t,” Peter responded, eyes widening. How was he supposed to get around this?

“I think you have, kiddo, and that’s okay, I understand it may be weird to have someone else here. I just wanted to make sure everything’s alright with you two, getting along and everything, right?”

Peter felt guilt creep up on him. If he said no, he would be letting Tony down by making it known Harley wasn’t as great as he thought he was? Right. But if he said yes, that would be a lie, and Peter knew how much Tony hated when he lied.

He settled for the lie.

“Yeah, everything’s good. We’re fine; we just don’t know each other that well.”

He watched the gears turn in Tony’s head, the way his eyes flickered as he went over what he’d had said, trying to decide if it was the genuine truth or a lie to satiate him.

“Well if you’re sure,” the man had said. Peter breathed out a sigh of relief. “I’m sure he’d like to get to know you better; you two should do something before he leaves.”

Not a chance, Peter thought. Still, he nodded his head and turned back to his desk, Tony kissing the top of his head before exiting the room, leaving Peter to come down from the anxiety high he’d experienced during the conversation.

A few moments later, when the door opened again, he least expected the intruder to be Harley.

“Can’t you just leave us alone?”

Peter whipped around to face the older boy, confusion evident on his face.

“What do you mean? I have left you alone. I live here and you’ve barely even seen me; can’t you leave me alone?”

Peter couldn’t believe he’d said that.

“Oh wow, see you’ve finally grown some balls there,” Harley exclaimed. “Nice to know you’ve got at least one bone in your body.”

Peter sighed. “Can you just go?”

“No, actually, I can’t.” Harley crossed his arms. “But you can.”

Peter’s eyes shone with even more confusion.

“Come on, there’s plenty of other floors you could be on, not to mention all the other people you could be bothering. Why don’t you just do us all a favor and leave, for a little while at least. It’s the least you could do.”

This time, Peter’s eyes shone with hurt. Surely he couldn’t be that bad, right?

Not having anything to say, he spun his chair back around to face the wall. When Harley realized he’d gotten his point across, he walked out of the room, mumbling a quick, “Something to think about,” before closing the door behind him.

+

Peter thought about it. He thought about it for a while, actually, before he decided to text Clint.

Can I stay with you tonight? he’d sent, and Clint had a replied with ‘Of course’ before he’d even had time to regret it. He hadn’t spent a night away from Tony since May, but maybe getting out of Harley’s hair would be good. The older boy would have time to calm down, and besides, he loved Clint. Getting to shoot arrows was a bonus too, something Tony rarely ever let him do.

As Peter walked into the kitchen to grab a snack, he ran into both Harley and Tony, only one of which was obviously eager to see him.

“Pete! Why don’t you come to the lab with us?” Tony had proposed, and Peter almost wanted to take him up on the offer. Maybe flaunting Tony in front of Harley would make him let up, put him in his place, but Peter wasn’t that kind of person. So instead, he replied, “Actually, I’m going to stay on Clint’s floor tonight.”

He watched as Tony’s facial expression morphed into one of concern, and Harley’s into a smug one.

“You sure, kiddo?” he asked, and Peter nodded.

“Yeah, you guys will be able to hang out, and you know how much I love Clint’s arrows.”

Tony grabbed his arm. “You know you’re not bothering us, kid. But if you really want to go, I won’t stop you. If you need anything, and I mean anything, you know I’ll be here.” Again, Peter nodded, because he did know. He knew he wasn’t a bother to Tony, as much as he sometimes felt he was, especially now that Harley was making it his life’s mission to make sure Peter knew it.

After the little impromptu meeting, Peter packed his bag and headed for the elevator, giving the penthouse a glance as the doors closed. Once he’d arrived on Clint’s floor, he was immediately greeted with an enthusiastic, “Hey, kid! Ready to shoot?”

It was almost as if that’s all he needed to cheer up, dropping his bag with a toothy grin and following the man to his shooting room. They’d barely exchanged two more words before the two began practicing, Peter practically forgetting about his earlier troubles.

As the day went on, the two had a great time. They’d shot arrows for a couple hours, had lunch with Natasha and Steve, and were finally settled down on the couch watching a movie. Peter was cuddled up to Clint, courtesy of the sleepiness he was feeling, when the man asked, “You about ready for bed, kid? You don’t usually stay up so late.”

At that, Peter felt a sick feeling in his stomach. “U-Um, can we maybe watch one more movie? Please?”

“Yeah, sure,” Clint replied. “It’s summer. Who needs a bedtime?” Peter weakly smiled, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, and watched as Clint picked another movie. The boy could feel his eyes getting heavy, his muscles relaxing, but every time his eyes slipped closed, he felt his heart start racing.

What was going on?

As the movies ending neared, all Peter could pay attention to was that he just didn’t feel good. His stomach hurt, his chest hurt, and all he could think was, I want Tony.

Oh. He was missing Tony. That’s what it was. He’d almost forgotten about the one night he’d been away from the man at bedtime, the way he’d cried until the man had picked him up from Ned’s house. He thought that had just been a once off.

Apparently he was wrong. Now that he had finally realized what was wrong, it only put him more on edge. Was he going to be able to sleep? Did he have to sleep on the couch? Or was there an extra bed he’d sleep in? Would Clint mind if Peter slept with him? This was his first time staying on Clint’s floor after all; what if he got up in the middle of the night and needed to use the bathroom and got lost? What if he had an accident? It didn’t happen very often but the boy didn’t want to find out how Clint would react. His thoughts were cut short by Clint standing up, and Peter now realized that the credits had begun rolling.

“Alright, kiddo. Let’s head to bed; Tony would have my head if he knew I let you stay up late.”

Peter whipped his head in Clint’s direction. “W-We don’t have to go to bed yet. I-I’m not even tired, really.”

“Kid.” Clint raised his eyebrows. “You were practically falling asleep the whole movie; I think it’s time for bed.”

“B-But my stomach hurts,” Peter almost whined, tears springing to his eyes. It was true, his stomach was hurting, but he was frustrated too. He was tired, but he also couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping, not away from Tony.

“Buddy, are you feeling okay?” Clint asked concernedly, watching the child as he tried to hold his tears in. The boy, in turn, nodded his head but kept his arms tightly wound around his stomach, Clint frowning in response.

“I think you just need to sleep. If your stomach hurts, you might try and go to the bathroom before bed,” the man supplied, though he had a feeling he knew what was really going on. When the tears in the boys eyes finally slipped down his cheeks though, Clint knew he was right.

“N-No, I don’t want to!” he sobbed, arms still wrapped around his stomach, face a mess of tears.

“Can I ask you a question, Pete?”

The boy nodded.

“Do you wanna go back to your floor? I think you’d feel a lot better if you could sleep in your own bed, hm? And I bet you’re missing Tony, too,” Clint said, and watched as it became clear that’s what Peter wanted.

“O-Okay, that sounds good.”

“Yeah? Alright, well let’s get your stuff and head up, okay?”

Once Peter nodded, Clint helped him off the couch and the two collected his things, then walked into the elevator.

“I’m sorry,” Peter sniffled. “I didn’t mean to ruin our sleepover.” Clint chuckled. “It’s alright, kid; you didn’t ruin anything. I just want you to get a good nights sleep.”

Peter nodded with another sniffle, and the elevator dinged as the doors opened on Tony’s floor.

Walking into the penthouse, Clint wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder, guiding him into the living room where they could hear a movie playing. Once they’d reached the doorway, they saw Tony with his head turned around, obviously waiting on whoever’d come in. “Hey, guys, what happened?” Tony asked, getting up off the couch and walking over to the pair, Peter’s breath hitching as he finally saw Tony.

“Kid got a little anxious,” Clint answered just as Tony engulfed the boy into a hug. “Just needed his dad.”

Tony frowned. “Alright, well thanks for bringing him back, and looking after him today.”

“Any time.”

Once Clint was gone, Tony had pulled Peter to sit on his lap on the couch. In his angst, Peter had nearly forgotten Harley was even there. So when he caught the boys eye after he’d been pulled into Tony’s lap, legs thrown over the mans, face buried in his chest, he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he just turned his head away, content to rest his eyes and sleep.

If only it were that easy every day.

+

Three days later, after endless torture from Harley, things finally came to a head. Peter had been extra emotional that day, all of Harley’s glares and insults hurting more than they usually did. He’d only have to endure it for four more days, but it was getting harder and harder.

As the day went on, it became harder and harder to keep his emotions in check, scurrying off to the bathroom more than once to relieve some of the pressure behind his eyes and shed a few tears. That’s why, around ten o’clock, Peter had hurried off to bed, leaving a confused Tony in his wake.

“Kid, you know you don’t have to go to bed; it’s summer,” he’d said, and Peter had only nodded along, supplying a short, “I’m just tired tonight.”

The man had frowned, but still invited Peter in for his usual goodnight hug, holding the boy a little longer that night. He’d noticed the teariness throughout the day, but chose not to say anything, just chalking it up to missing May.

Oh, how wrong he was. Peter was off to his room and under the covers as soon as Tony had told him goodnight, not even sparing a glance at Harley on his way out. He didn’t need the boy ruining his bedtime either. After that, things were relatively calm for the next couple hours. Tony and Harley stayed up watching movies, the two of them adding commentary every so often. The two were on their third movie of the night when F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupted, her Irish voice ringing through the room.

“Mister Stark, I would like to inform you that one of your protocols for Mister Parker has been activated. However, I am not sure you would like me to disclose the information in front of Mister Keener. Shall I send the information to your cell phone?”

Sometimes Tony swore that F.R.I.D.A.Y. cared as much about Peter as he did, the AI seeming almost parental when it came to the boy, as parental as the computer could be. “Uh, yeah, sure F.R.I.D.A.Y. . Send it over.”

As soon as he said that, his phone vibrated with a message from the AI, letting him know that the protocol he’d put in place for Peter’s occasional bedwetting had been activated. The boy didn’t experience it often, but accidents weren’t so uncommon, and Tony felt he needed a plan for when it did happen. So, he got up out of seat, shooting Harley a quick, “Be right back,” before beginning to walk towards the hallway. What he was not expecting was for Harley to quip back with an almost angry, “Seriously?” He turned around at that, the kids face softening up a little as he saw the look on Tony’s face. “I need to go check on him. I’ll be back in no more than half an hour. You can finish the movie if you want.” With that, he turned around and made his way towards his kids room, opening the door to peek inside at the still sleeping boy.

Good, Tony thought. At least it wasn’t a bad nightmare.With that in mind, he walked quietly over to the bed and squatted down to be level with Peter, placing a gentle hand on his back. “Hey, kiddo, wake up for me,” the man whispered, his hand making circles in the boys back. “We gotta get cleaned up.”

It didn’t take long for Peter to stir, the boy opening his eyes with a look of confusion on his face, before shifting and realizing what was wrong. Immediately, his facial expression changed to one of embarrassment, cheeks heating up so red Tony could see them even in the dark. “It’s fine, kiddo, we just gotta get cleaned up. Up and at em,” Tony murmured, watching as the boy grimaced as he stood from the bed. “There we go. It’s okay.”

Once the boy was out of the sticky bed, Tony put a hand on his lower back and led him towards the connected bathroom. As Peter worried his lower lip, Tony told him, “Don’t worry about it kiddo, you know I’m not mad.”

Starting the bath, Tony kept his back turned as the boy undressed behind him. He waited for the water to get warm enough before he put the stopper in, Peter climbing in not long after. He drew his knees up to his chest and tried to wipe his tears away, but Tony could still see them flowing. “Kiddo, don’t cry. You know I’m not upset; it’s no big deal,” Tony tried to console, but the kid only continued to cry, a hiccup escaping his lips.

“P-lease don’t tell H-Harley,” he hiccuped, and Tony’s eyes shone with confusion.

“I wouldn’t tell Harley, kiddo, this is your business. But Harley wouldn’t care; he wouldn’t make fun of you.” That only upset Peter further, a sob tearing out of him before he could stop it. “Y-Yes he would!”

“Pete, I don’t understand. What are you so upset for?”

He didn’t answer.

“Did I do something?”

Peter shook his head.

“Did Harley?”

Peter nodded. Finally, after all this time, he was admitting the truth. Tony didn’t respond for a moment, just staring as Peter cried, making him feel even more self conscious than he already did. He was a snitch now; he’d hurt Tony. “Kiddo, what’s he been doing?”

Yet again, Peter shook his head. Maybe if he didn’t tell Tony, it would all go away. He would forget Peter even said anything and could spend his last few days with Harley in ignorant bliss. But Tony was nothing without his ability to coax information, especially out of Peter. So for the next fifteen minutes, Peter finally told Tony the truth, about everything. From Harley’s glares and insults to his shoves and threats, Peter didn’t hold back, and the look on Tony’s face at the end of it made him want to cry all over again.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffled.

[gaybluesargent]

i havent read the raven cycle books in a while and ive forgotten.. what is so bad about gansey's parents?

i’m sorry this took so long, anon!! i have… so very many thoughts about this. so. cracks my knuckles. Here We Go. an incomplete analysis of why gansey’s parents suck, under a readmore because it turned into a book report:  

they allowed gansey to travel the world entirely by himself at thirteen years old.

“Of all the places Gansey had attended boarding school — and he’d attended many in his four years of underage wandering…” - trb, ch12

gansey is seventeen, so four years of wandering puts him at thirteen. thirteen!! thirteen is not old enough to travel the world by yourself in even the best circumstances. and gansey was not in the best circumstances. which leads me to my next point:

they allowed gansey to travel the world entirely by himself while he was extremely unwell. 

by the time he met malory, he’d already been traveling for years, and this was the shape he was in:

“Got screaming nightmares over it — he had to get his own place, since I couldn’t sleep with it, as you might well imagine. Sometimes these fits would happen during the day, too. We’d just be toddling through some riding path in Leicestershire and next thing I knew he’d be on the ground clawing his face like a mental patient.” - bllb, ch30

his parents either didn’t notice this behavior or ignored it, because there is no way a boy this debilitated by his trauma and anxiety should be set free to roam the world with no support. and there was no support, because:

there were months (or more) where they had no idea where he was. 

“Just gone,” Malory said. “After that, his family called me sometimes, trying to find out where he’d gone.”

“His family?” She felt like she was being told a story about a different person.

“Yes, I told them what I could, of course. But I didn’t really know. It was Mexico before he came to me, then Iceland after, I think, before the States. I doubt I know the half of it still. He picked himself up and moved so easily, so quickly. He had done it so many times before England, Jane, and it was old hat to him.” - bllb, ch30

that means they kept in touch so little and gave him so much financial freedom that they couldn’t find out where in the whole world he had gone. yeah, like, gansey made the decision to go off the radar, but the fact that he, as a child, was able to go missing on this scale is extremely negligent of his parents. 

i think all of that is enough to find the ganseys shitty, but wait, there’s more! because there’s a whole emotional side to this that plays a big role in Who Gansey Is.

the ganseys are politicians. 

not just in their careers, but as people. they are concerned with Appearance more than anything else. 

there’s a lot in gansey’s introspection that gets into this — like, the entire concept of his President Cell Phone persona and the reoccurring theme of disconnect between how gansey feels and how he’s perceived — but i think this bit from trk is pretty telling: 

He remembered thinking that it would only ruin the party by reappearing covered with hornets. - trk ch53

you don’t think this way as a terrified child unless you’ve had guilt taught into you. unless your family has made it clear that your pain is less important than their convenience. 

and that crops up a lot with gansey. this idea of his feelings being inconvenient to those around him, and of his feelings being less important than everyone else’s. sure, it’s tied up in his privilege, but it’s also a classic symptom of the kind of repression and compartmentalization that comes from growing up in a family that doesn’t value your emotional wellbeing. 

and i think there’s a good example of that, after gansey misses the fundraiser:

I know you have your own life, his mother said to his voicemail. I was just hoping to be part of it for a few hours. 

[Helen’s] only text had come at the end of the night: I suppose the king will always win, won’t he? - trk, ch58

this is.. emotionally manipulative. maybe not intentionally, but it is. and gansey has lived his whole life like this — having things Expected of him and then being guilted when he can’t live up to it. and the running implication under it all is that he is Wrong for prioritizing the thing that matters most to him, which is doubly damaging since that thing is the obsessive pursuit of a resolution to his unbelievable and unacknowledged childhood trauma. trauma for which he has never gotten any help. that is all unforgivably isolating. 

and i think part of what makes this all so insidious is that it’s easy to miss. because it’s never rude, never mean, never outright. the ganseys don’t seem like an emotionally dysfunctional family. they don’t fight, they don’t yell, they don’t cry. they love each other, or they think they do. but that’s because of things like this:

And Dick Gansey II had let his son know that if he couldn’t hack it in a private school, Gansey was cut out of the will. 

He’d said it nicely, though, over a plate of fettuccine. - trb, ch12

and

Gansey despised raising his voice (in his head, his mother said, People shout when they don’t have the vocabulary to whisper)… - trb, ch38

they’re nice. they’re proper. but they’re definitely not good. they want gansey to be Perfect, which means ignoring all the parts of him that they find flawed and inconvenient. which means depriving him of emotional support and limiting their relationship with him to what is Expected and what is Useful. which means that, when he can’t meet those Expectations and Uses, he is a failure. 

and i think that leaves marks all over his character. you can see it in his desperation to mean something, to be worthy of being saved. in how he constantly represents himself in ways that conflict with his Richard Campbell Gansey The Thirdness (like the Pig, Monmouth, and his journal, all things that are broken and chaotic and messy). in his deep desire to be Known and Understood by the people around him. 

i don’t think gansey really understands the way his family has shaped these parts of his personality, so the narrative doesn’t really call explicit attention to it. but there are places where it’s clear how far away he feels from the very idea of his family: 

He was full of the restless, dissatisfied energy that always seemed to move into his heart after he visited home these days. It had something to do with the knowledge that his parents’ house wasn’t truly home anymore — if it had ever been — and something to do with the realization that they hadn’t changed; he had. - trb, ch33

they never made a spot for him in their home, or at least, not a spot where he was ever actually able to fit. so gansey left and found one for himself, in his friends and in henrietta and in glendower. 

there is So Much More — i could comb through the books and write a 500 page dissertation on this topic, lol — but i’m gonna leave it here. tldr, gansey’s parents are neglectful and emotionally isolating, and that has had a serious negative impact on how gansey conceptualizes himself.

[if you want More on the subject, i know kate @czarrish has lots of good posts like this one! & big thank you to @arielmagicesi​, @pnrrish, & @wishingstardust​ for helping me find various things for this Essay! i rly appreciate it!]

[sethnakht]

tagged by the lovely @azalea-scroggs (forgive me for this incredibly late response)

Rules: choose any three fandoms (in random order) and answer the questions, then tag 10 people you want to know better

Three fandoms:

Star Wars

Coco

Harry Potter, if only because it lends itself to this meme

The first character you loved:

Luke (in childhood) - mostly, I think, for his moments of Extra, such as: a) the choice to take death-by-abyss over Vader’s offer, b) his black outfit, with its aura of faux-mystery (the product of brooding over Vader, it seemed), c) the fact that he Force-chokes his way into Jabba’s palace d) and that his solution to killing the Rancor is to send a barbed gate into its windpipe, e) the showiness of his flying kick on Jabba’s barge, f) how he reaches for Vader’s hand not long after having chopped one of them off

Mamá Coco - the beauty and dignity of great age, all of the implied little acts of resistance she’s hinted at having taken throughout her lifetime, strewn throughout the house

Harry - I think what instantly endeared me to him is his resilience, what one might even call spite - the way his hair grows back after Petunia cuts it shorter than he wants, for instance, and then the sheer nerve, the cheekiness of some of his responses to adults - the constant presence of repressed or unacknowledged wells of emotion beneath the calm surface. I learned a lot about what I like in a narrator from him, because he’s highly observant but completely unreliable, often coming to realizations with great belatedness

The character you never expected to love so much:

Leia - I remember seeing ESB in theaters as a child and being inexplicably drawn to the shot of her watching the blast doors close, to her eyes - feeling a sense of such longing it almost hurt. But I didn’t like her romantic subplot and totally lost interest after her bikini scene. It took far sharper eyes than my own to realize just how complex she can be, and years to recognize in her grief, in her struggles, in her determination, in her resistance just what it was that had sparked that initial response

Imelda - she reminds me almost uncannily of my real Dominican grandmother, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to think about her too closely at the beginning. But she’s emerged to me as That Kind of Character I love to write about - headstrong, resentful, masked, walled on the outside; she’s open to many metaphorical readings as well. Cheech, Victoria, and Elena have also grown on me to a surprising degree

one of the great joys of Potter is that nearly every character has a remarkably skewed perspective. I kind of love the cast as a whole - from weirdos like Aberforth and Filch and the Lovegoods to the worst-ever purebloods to Lily and the Marauders - and over time have found the adults especially fun to think through, not least because of how settled-in-their-ways and batshit some of them have become

The character you relate to the most:

I’m going to rephrase this as “the character perspective you find most rewarding to write”, because that’s how I relate to characters --

Vader - because anger! and a journey! because he’s a sad but hilarious murderbot! have explained the fascination a bit here

Héctor - he’s a trickster, immensely changeable and fluid, and yet also caught in something of a traumatic loop, one both of his own making and not. He's in some way the character who can cross every boundary but the one he wants to cross, or rather who has to cross all kinds of boundaries, who keeps crossing boundaries despite being denied passage to the one place he wants to be by an apparatus that regards him as an outsider. There’s lots one can also do with him to think about class relations, about the history of the twentieth century, about time more generally (time in music, time in poetry), about language (he’s a poet). And on a psychological level, he’s got all the baggage I love: guilt, shame, persistence in desperation, a particular form of good-natured obliviousness that has a way of getting in the way of clear communication on his end and also of setting him up for betrayal

Snape - he’s a miserably depressed, endlessly spiteful, hopelessly guilt-ridden young teacher who can’t keep his anger or his tongue in check, is ridiculously partial to the sort of rich prat who helped ruin his life in the first place, is obsessed to the most obsessive degree with Harry and his parents, is probably on a whole bucketload of potions to get through the day, is physically a total mess, and gets to wield some of the most cutting sarcasm in the books - of course his perspective is a riot

The character you’d slap:

other than Anakin? or Padmé? probably Obi-Wan pre-ROTS. Which is not to say that I don’t love him (love his sass especially); more that there are things he does in TPM and AOTC that remind me too much of real people - of bad teachers I know. Much could have been avoided without his grudge in TPM, with a franker acknowledgement of the fact that his charge looked up to him as a father and not as a brother and was vulnerable to predation from those who could see the disconnect. The difference a sharper ear for tone ( “I do my best, Master”) might have made . . . not unlike Snape, he’s a poster-boy for bad teaching, and in a very different way from Snape, he’s arrogant and fairly privileged at the same time. That he’s never called out on his behavior until it’s far too late is harrowingly realistic

Ernesto - boy becomes a media star and yet has never heard of communication, apparently. if he’d simply asked Héctor to write him songs from home, the entire mess might have been avoided

Snape deserves to be in this category, but I think the character I’d want to actually slap is Draco Malfoy - just - i mean

Three favorite characters (in order of preference):

Vader, Leia, Ahsoka or Aphra

Héctor, Imelda, Coco

Snape, Harry, pretty much everyone but Voldemort and Draco

A character you liked at first but don’t anymore:

I still love Luke, so this isn’t quite the response being asked for, but I also don’t seek him out, don’t want to write about him. As a kid, I devoured pretty much every Luke-Vader story out there; now, when encountering Luke-Vader, I confess I struggle to muster interest if Leia (or Ahsoka, or some other female character) isn’t present

this movie hasn’t been out long enough for that, I think . . . 

Hermione is a character I adore still, but as with Luke, she’s no longer for me what she was as a child, when she was my role model - idk, I love a lot of the qualities in her that tend to be overlooked in fic, her brutality for instance, her more hidden impulses - how much she wants to belong, how much her marriage says about her structural needs and wants (love Ron, btw, another totally under-appreciated character). I think she’s super interesting, if not in her prescribed role as the know-it-all ex-machina. As the character used to always playing that role and under pressure to remain in that role, however, she’s fascinating

Three OTPs: 

Leia + Vader gen, of which there is not nearly enough in this world - Vader spends two films chasing / capturing her, Leia spends two films escaping / defying him, he doesn’t want her dead because she can lead him to things he wants, she absolutely wants him dead and is driven to lead by her hatred for him, they’re extreme versions of each other and understand each other extremely well as a result, possibly are even drawn to each other, if only to really hurt each other - you bet I want to see this dynamic further explored

Héctor/Imelda - guilt-fest, psychological drama ahoy, plus they’re musicians, connected through time and language

aside from the stuff I somehow avoid like the plague (H/G, Drarry, anything with Voldemort), I’d read pretty much anything with an interesting narrator. Rarepairs are where it’s at for me in Potter, tbh

I tag @glompcat, @marythegizka, @chancecraz, @songofthesstars, @force-scream, @cyberdyke-industries, @thewillowbends, @babycharmander, @lloronadeazulceleste, @pengychan

[grison-in-space]

while I’m thinking about that meredith on the Eclector fic...

...a thing I’m chewing over is, for lack of a better phrasing, how the hell I integrate Meredith onto the Eclector, particularly long-term, without adding her in to play the role of Wendy to the Lost Boys.

I always hated Wendy. She never got to have any fun of her own, and she was always having to do all the scut work: mending and teaching and mentoring and being Pretty--a thing I hated as a child--and doing all the the things that make life a lot better to live, really, except that the Lost Boys never fucking bothered to get off their asses to do them. 

And at the same time, in a lot of ways the Meredith I’m writing is a hell of a lot more experienced emotionally and socially than the remaining Ravager crew around her; she’s unwilling to put up with the level of filth around herself that they are. She’s unwilling to put up with the lack of respect that they might be. She’s generally much more clear about her boundaries and better at being aware of emotional undercurrents without having to translate them through a fog of toxic masculinity first. 

I can see the lines of Wendy forming. And normally I’d be going “fine, let her be as irresponsible as anyone else then!” It’s not like I have problems writing things like Nebula, Queen of the Emotional Dumpster Fire, or Mantis, Occasional Exploding Doormat. 

Except unlike Wendy, Meredith is an actual parent aboard the Eclector with her kid, determined to make sure her kid.... gets to be a kid and does kid things. Like his homework. And some of those things she’s doing for Peter are going to appeal heavily to Yondu, who is still new to his command and pretty exasperated with the level of mathamtical literacy (for example) on his crew--and Meredith has worksheets! And experience tutoring! And knows formal ways to teach math! That aren’t just intuitive and hard to explain!

If I was Yondu, I’d want that skill on my crew. I’d want the skills of an experienced household runner, someone who knows how to make money stretch; I’d want the skills also of an experienced negotiator, someone who is as good at surviving in a non-combat capacity as he is. Someone taught Peter how to sweet-talk his way through the universe, and I don’t actually think it was Yondu--the man uses flirting to put people off balance, not necessarily to actually charm them, and I’m pretty sure Meredith was more effective than that. I can see him trying to convince her to do that work on his ship, because I can see him noticing that the effects would be good.

And on the gripping hand... well, she’s sure as hell not motivated to parent anyone who isn’t an actual child. And she’s wary of the dynamic she can see herself falling into, where righteously demanding that you don’t leave bottles of fucking piss lying around and basic standards of hygeine suddenly morph into Meredith being responsible for convincing the entire crew to act like goddamn adults. 

I suppose I’m trying to lay out the dilemma that hits a lot of women working and living in male-dominated spaces, myself included: how much of the rope do you drop regarding shit like “keeping basic spaces clean,” and how much of the work do you throw a fit over? Where do you draw the line, and how much work do you let yourself do unacknowledged simply because it clearly needs to be done, and no one else is doing it... and everyone is automatically assigning it to you?

[lxiewrites]

Talks and Changes

Ch. 7 of Altea High

”Ji-ji! Stop!”

“Payton get out of here!”

Keith wakes up, startled. He can still hear the roar of the fire and the sharp shnick shnick of blades in his ears. He wasn’t there when it happened but his mind can fill in the blanks. As good of a video as it can be some details are better left unacknowledged, too bad his brain didn’t get that memo. Groaning, he buried his face further into his flattened pillow, ignoring the sun peeking out from under the blinds.

Before he fell back to sleep he flipped his pillow over, something he read on the Internet, to change dreams or something. He wished he didn’t dream at all but he needs more sleep. Mr. Kelly or Coran, his Civilian Life teacher, warned them of a big project starting the beginning of the week. In the class so far he has made a birdhouse, came up with three ways to make mac n’ cheese with only three ingredients, and learned how to indicate North. Who knows what the man has come up with.

He breathed in the scent of the detergent that Scarlet used on his bed sheets. He pushed back the past and thought of something that was so far different and off topic and had absolutely no connection to his parents or childhood. He thought of… flowers. Yes, flowers, pretty colorful flowers that his mom used to carefully press between book pages.

Nope. Okay, change of subject.

He thought of… TV, no, no, no, no screens. Okay, cake? Hunk said he would bring fresh baked cupcakes next week. He still hasn’t answered the other boy’s question on what flavor he’d prefer. He replied he’d be fine with anything but he secretly hoped for chocolate. His mom used to make him this chocolate cake for his birthday that was somehow crunchy but still good.

“Gaaaahhhhh,” he groaned into the pillow. He scrunched his legs under him and stretched his arms out in a cat-like stretch. He pulled down his hoodie from when it slid up his torso. He doesn’t have to worry so much about catching on fire when he’s sleeping, thankfully, but now he’s awake and has to be more cautious.

He sat up on his knees, the sleeves long and in his lap, fingers barely poking out of the fabric. He looked to his alarm clock on his nightstand, 7:47 blinked at him in neon green. He reached over and gingerly swept up the nonchalant envelope where he left it. He swallowed and smoothed his fingers over the crumpled paper. It didn’t become wrinkled because of him or Scarlet; he knew that if it was anything of his she treated it with care. It wasn’t well taken care of when it was delivered to the house. Who knows how the letter inside looked.

He moved his legs to sit crisscross, the cotton of his baggy sweatpants catching under him. He felt strangely cool at the moment. Very calm. Years since he had heard from her and suddenly he gets a letter out of the blue. The flap was securely fastened to the pocket, only the barest corner of the envelope wasn’t glued down. Carefully, Keith picked at the corner. It tore, just a little bit but instead of following the crisp line it was predestined to, the tear arced so only a tiny little flap was loose.

He slipped his thumb in the bigger opening, prepared for the odd tearing and uneven scalloping, when there was a knock on the door. His head flew up, bangs in his eyes, as he covered the envelope with his pillow like it was a bad secret.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yes?”

Scarlet opened the door just enough to poke her head through. “Keith, you have that meeting with Shiro today remember? Did you forget?”

Eyes widening, Keith ditched the pillow and the letter underneath it and flew to the mound of clothes on his desk chair. “Shit! I forgot!”

“Mmmhmm, that’s what I thought. You’re meeting him at that café in town, call me when you get there and when you’re done!” With that statement she closed the door.

He starts to put on layers of clothes from the pile and saw the letter peeking out from under the pillow. He paused his harried dressing. After a minute or two he slipped it into his new hoodie.

Minutes later he’s down in his extra layers and a non-sleep sweatshirt. He adjusted his undershirts to line up as he shoved his feet into his shoes. He was adjusting the heel when a firm hand grabbed onto his sweatshirt. He looked up to see Scarlet with her brow furrowed and downturned mouth. “Keith, I know you haven’t opened the note from your mother yet but I just wanted to say that no matter what’s inside you don’t have to do anything it says. It doesn’t have to change you, okay?”

Change me? What—what does that mean? He looked at her, puzzled, a little pebble dropped in his stomach. “S-sure, Scar. Whatever you say.”

She smiled at him but the little creases around her eyes were still there. She nodded. “Okay, I just wanted to let you know. You’re your own person, and I think you’re a very brave young man.” She let go of his sleeve.

Kind words but each dropped little pebbles into his stomach, plopping in and churning the stomach acid and making him vaguely sick.

He left and caught the bus that would leave him kitty-corner to the Just Beans Here.

A short ride later he spotted Shiro with his conspicuous white tuft of hair at one of the outside tables, a cup of coffee still steaming.

The older man looked up from his menu as the metal chair scrapped against the concrete. “Hi, Keith. Get here alright?”

Stomach still unsettled but calm despite the rocky bus ride he nodded. “It was fine. Yours?”

“Well enough, not a lot of traffic at this time.”

The waitress came up then. After getting his order of iced tea she let them have a moment or two to decide on what they’d like. As she weaved between the tables Shiro put on his “working smile” as Keith called it. Polite and friendly but slightly distant. In this moment he was not his cousin but a professional liaison for the small part of the government that dealt with kids who had the unfortunate side effect of having a villainous parent or parents.

“Keith, how have things been so far?”

Keith sighed and rolled his eyes. The pretending always annoyed him. That smile annoyed him. The “I’m you’re friend” annoyed him. Because they didn’t. They didn’t care, he was just either another case or something to be monitored. But this caseworker isn’t like the others; this is Shiro. And he knew Shiro cared about him. It took him a while to realize that but that knowledge was cemented in him.

He hated this part of the routine but knew it was necessary. “Everything is fine with Scarlet. I’ve only melted a few things since last month.” He rubbed the envelope in his pocket between his fingers, debating. “Pretty much it.”

The waitress came back with their drinks. Shiro asked for a Cobb salad because he was prepared that way and Keith panicked and asked for a BLT. Conveniently forgetting he didn’t like tomatoes.

Shiro’s brows furrowed. “I thought you didn’t like tomatoes.”

Keith crossed his arms and frowned. “I don’t, I—I just felt like bacon today.”

The guidance counselor didn’t comment, merely nodded his head. “Okay. So,” He folded his hands on the table. “How’s school?”

Keith’s eyes drifted, taking in small details before answering. The couple eating brunch together, giggling and cooing. Someone typing furiously on their laptop with papers strewn about, taking over the table next to them. A girl with a magazine with a blond man on the cover leaning against nothing, the new CEO of some company or a celebrity he doesn’t know. A woman with a darker skin tone than the young woman behind the magazine bustled around the metal fence, waving.

“Keith.”

Said young man snapped his attention back to the person he was meeting. “Sorry,” His eyes darted back to the young woman who was waving back at the older woman. The girl from the elevator? “School’s fine. As you know.”

Shiro broke character for a minute by rolling his eyes. “I do, but I want to know how you feel. Is it working? How’re classes? Do you have friends?”

Keith leaned his arms on the table. “It’s fine. Classes are fine; the teacher’s are weird. Coran is the weirdest, he keeps giving us random assignments for what’s supposedly a Life Skills class. I don’t know how many birdhouses he expects us to make. My bio teacher is going on maternity leave, I think she would still try to work if it wasn’t for her wife; she called during class to make sure she wasn’t working too hard. It was cute. Slav is…interesting. He spends most of the class going through other world scenarios probabilities. Lance doesn’t help because he keeps asking stupid questions during class.”

“What kind of stupid questions?” Shiro asked.

“Stuff like what are the chances of a building falling because of a kid throwing a baseball through the window, or the probability of someone tossing a water bottle a hundred times and having it land perfectly every time.” Keith chuckled. “One time he asked what was the probability of this guy Sean in out class of getting laid and Slav actually answered him.” He covered his mouth with his wrist as he laughed. “Pfft, he said it was less than twenty percent. Maybe thirty in another dimension.”

Shiro chuckled at his story. It was really funny; he didn’t expect the teacher to actually answer! God, best Tuesday ever. Sean Dick didn’t even try to get back at Lance after that, which Keith thought was nothing short of a miracle.

“It sounds like you and Lance are getting along well.”

Keith didn’t answer for a minute or two. “I guess…Sometimes it’s like he barely stands me. But we can handle it for the rest of the year.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t ‘barely stand you’. He’s a nice kid.”

“He’s fine, but I don’t think we could be classified as ‘friends.’” For emphasis he brought his fingers up for the air quotes. He dropped his hands. “Shiro, why can’t I just get a nullifier? Wouldn’t that just be easier?”

Shiro sighed like the world was on his shoulders. “Keith, we’ve discussed this. You won’t learn how to control your powers yourself. What if you lose it? Or what if it breaks? Then where would you be?”

Keith didn’t have an answer for that.

Satisfied his cousin nodded then he smiled as the waitress deposited their food in front of them. Keith merely nodded with what he hoped looked like a smile, when she left he started to pick off his tomatoes and throwing them on top of Shiro’s salad.

Shiro stabbed through the extra tomatoes and greens. “We might be able to get you a nullifier for special occasions, like games or dances. Hopefully you won’t get detention, but everyone’s required for that one, but you have to learn how to do it yourself if you’re still planning to be a civilian.”

Keith flaked off crumbs of crust from his sandwich and bit into his spear pickle. “I highly doubt I’m going to dances,” he mumbled around the bite of food. “And I am still planning to be a civilian. It’s not like I’m planning to turn evil or anything. Why would I change anything in my plan now? Why would I just suddenly turn evil? It’s not like anyone just turns evil over night and I’m not planning to.” He glared at his sandwich; he flicked off a small tomato seed. God, he hated tomatoes.

“Hey, buddy, no one is saying that you’re going to turn evil alright? Is it someone from school? We can talk to them okay?” Shiro set down his fork, looking at him with concern. His non-metal hand was lying on the table, an offer but not an obligation.

“No it’s just…” he looked away. The girl from the elevator was talking excitedly to the woman sitting across from her. The woman was smiling warmly and nodding every so often. “Just because my dad burned down buildings for money people expect me to. Just, the reputation that my parents turned evil makes it really hard to just…blend in. And this,” he took off his glove and held up his hand and allowed a small orange flame flicker to life. “Doesn’t help.” He closed his hand around the small flame, smothering it.

He slipped his other glove off and picked up his food, tomato free. “I’m just having an off day. People are irritating. Let’s just leave it at that.” He took a big bite out of his sandwich and chewed furiously.

“Okay, if you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine.” He resumed eating. Before he took a new bite he asked, “But other than that everything’s fine? You have friends? It seems like you’ve been hanging out with Pidge and Hunk a lot. And of course Lance.”

“Why ask if you already know the question?” Keith quirked an eyebrow at him.

Shiro looked at him, fork paused in midair. Another crack in the professional mask. Keith knew if they weren’t on a ‘business’ lunch he would probably be giving as good as he got. They stared at each other, neither one wanting to give in; Shiro didn’t even blink.

Finally the older man gave in; Keith relished his victory silently. “Just tell me if you’re making friends or not. How about Shay? Are you two getting along?”

“I would say I’m friends with Hunk and Pidge, like school friends, we’re not braiding anyone’s hair or having sleepovers anytime soon. Shay is cool. She’s really cool, like she’s really determined to do her best and improve. I can appreciate that.”

They continue talking about his classes and friends, see how well he’s adjusting in school. All the regular rounds to see if his basic needs are taken care of at Scarlet’s. He doesn’t mention that Scarlet thinks he’s all of a sudden going to turn evil because of getting contact with his mother. Then he would have to discuss his mother and how he felt and why he hadn’t opened the letter yet and he wanted to avoid that inquisition. He’s just out here for his required monthly talk with his cousin.

“Just wait here, you’re going to have to meet someone.” Shiro says as the waitress takes away their dishes. He leaves a few bills on the table for the check and walks over to the table with the girl and woman. The woman smiles warmly as she stood up to hug him. They chat for a bit and Shiro was talking to the girl, then he tilted his head in his direction. The girl nodded and walked over to him. He met Shiro’s gaze and glared at him, who smirked and shrugged in response.

The girl with teal hair pulled into a high ponytail waved as she sat down in front of him, slinging her purse over the back of her chair. “Hi, Keith!”

He gave her a half-smile. “Hi…”

She stuck her hand out. “Plaxum, from the elevator, but you can call me Plax.”

He almost took her hand but remembered why that would be a very bad idea. He quickly put his gloves back on. “Sorry, no handshakes, but, um, that’s an interesting name.”

“Hey, no worries, I forgot.” She picked up the dessert menu. “Yeah, my mom was, and still is, a bit of a hippy.”

“Does it mean anything?”

She set aside the trifold and shook her head. “Nah, not really.”

He nodded.

They sat in silence. It was awkward silence, at least to him. She didn’t seem to mind that much, playing with the menu. They waved the waitress away when she asked if they wanted anything else. He looked over to the other table where Shiro abandoned him. They were talking amicably but it seemed like a serious conversation.

“I’m meeting with Shiro after he’s done. I think they want to introduce you to Mamá Martinez.”

He looked back over, the appearances clicking into place. The same clear bronzed skin, thick chestnut hair, and sharp facial features that are actually quite soft when smiling. Except for the eyes and height they looked remarkably alike, especially if placed side to side.

He turned back to Plax, who was fiddling with the small braids she put into her ponytail; she smiled. “Don’t worry, there’s a reason she’s called Mamá Martinez, she’s really nice.”

“Thanks but why would I meet her? I mean, why is it so important?”

She tilted her head in confusion. “Well, she’s the one that looks after us, checks in, that stuff. She normally does things in person but Shiro’s her intern or something. They might just want you to finally meet her.”

Why would Shiro be her intern? Looks after them? He knew Shiro checked in on him, he thought it was as a representative for children’s services or something. He didn’t think that there was someone else that was supposed to be doing that job. Looking back though things made a lot more sense, still confusing but maybe more sense. But she said us…”What do you mean by ‘us?’”

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Her left arm wrapped around herself as her other came up to cover her mouth. “Oh my God, you don’t know.” Her hand at her mouth dropped to rest on top of the left. Her smile was more subdued. “I forgot that not everyone knows anymore and I kinda thought you already knew.” She met his eyes, brave and a little defiant. “You don’t have her as a teacher but my mother is Luxia. She works at the school and she’s a reformed supervillain.”

He jerked. The table rattled and a glass fell over. He grabbed it right before it fell off the table. “She’s a reformed supervillain?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re her kid?”

“Also, yes.”

“And she’s working at the school?”

“Yes.”

She stared at him, cerulean eyes daring him to say anything bad about her or her mother. When he didn’t follow up with another question she asked, “Isn’t that why you’re here? You’re parents are supervillains like my mom and…” Her head gestured to the adults behind them. “They’re here to help.”

“I—I mean I guess. I’ve never thought about…It’s just…you’re mom works at the school?”

Her brow furrowed and her lips tensed just a little bit more, yet her voice remained level. “Yes. At the school. That can happen, y’know.”

“No, no, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. I just never thought of it before. I never imagined my mom doing… anything outside of prison. I’ve never imagined my mom outside of prison. It just came a shock that that can happen.” He paused and put as much sincerity as he could into what he said. “I’m…really happy that you have this with your mother.” It just occurs to him that the glass was still in his hand. He set it in the middle of the table.

She smiled at him, defenses gone. “Thank you. That means a lot.” She relaxed her posture, arm and elbow resting on the table, fiddling with a braid. “Mamá Martinez could find a job for your mom or dad when or if they get out. She helped with my mom.”

He stared hard at his unused napkin. He took it and folded one corner of the square to the opposite corner. Keeping his hands and eyes busy. “My dad’s dead, it wasn’t released to the public, but he is. And I have no idea when or if my mom is ever getting out.” He thinks about the slight crinkling that’s in his hoodie pocket.

“They didn’t tell you the sentencing?”

He shrugged, folding the edges to meet in the middle. “I didn’t want to know at the time, still kinda don’t.” He finished folding and pulled on the wings to pop up the crane.

Plaxum nodded and thankfully didn’t say anything else. She took the paper-napkin-turned-crane. “That’s cool.” He didn’t know if she was talking about the bird or what he said. She tried to flap the wings but they barely moved. “Isn’t this supposed to flap?”

One side of his lips hitched up. “It’s a traditional crane. They’re not supposed to flap.”

“Hmm, still cool. Can I keep this?”

“Be my guest.”

She carefully folded the crane flat and slid it into her tiny purse. “If you want you can come talk to my mom. She’s typically free after school. And if you need a friend who gets the super villain kid thing you can always come talk to me.”

Keith hopes he kept the wince off his face. “Thanks for the offer but I’m not sure…”

She held up her hands, stopping whatever his excuse would be. “It’s just an offer, but we can still hang if you want.” She twisted her torso until he could hear a series of cracks from the other side of the table. “I think they’re ready to switch off anyway. I’m going to make Shiro get me ice cream for making my partner Flora.” Her face scrunched up in a glare. “Not funny, Shiro, not funny.” He has no idea who Flora is or why it’s bad that Shiro made them her partner and he won’t ask. He looked over her shoulder to see his cousin giving the woman a smile and a hug. Plaxum turned back around. “It was nice to see you Keith, you should seriously think about what I said.” She got up, slung the chain of her purse over her shoulder and looked over said shoulder, teeth gleaming. “See you in school Keith!”

He waves goodbye as she hugs Mrs. Martinez and makes a little hop over to Shiro. After a lot of gesturing and looks of disapproval from Plaxum Keith can see the exact time Shiro gave in. The man looked back at Keith and called out, “See you Monday, Keith! Behave yourself for Mrs. Martinez all right?”

If he could physically roll his eyes out of his head he would. “Goodbye, Shiro.”

Mrs. Martinez chuckled as she sat down where Plaxum left the chair out. “He’s a character that one. Hello, Keith,” She smiled at him, kind brown eyes that seemed very warm. She either did a great job at balancing the caring and professional relationship to the point one couldn’t tell or she just did a shit job of it. The aura she gave off was very…maternal. “I’m Isabella Martinez, you can call me Isabella, Bella, Mrs. Martinez, and some call me Mamá Martinez. Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

He nodded. “Thank you, I think I’ll stick with Mrs. Martinez.”

She smiled at him, her phone buzzed and she shot off a quick text before focusing her attention on him again. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions but long story short: I’m a senior caseworker for the Administration for Children and Families that specializes with supervillains and their children. I’m technically your case manager until you turn eighteen. To make sure you’re getting proper education and that where you live is safe, etcetera etcetera. So far you’ve been dealing with Shiro, your cousin correct?” He nodded. “Now, I normally would be doing it and we’re bending the rules of ethics here by allowing Shiro to be working with you on your case but it’s an exception due to past performance with previous social workers.”

His memories bring up fake friendly adults with too big smiles and too bright voices that wouldn’t even meet his eye. He was so angry and frustrated back then he refused to even try to work with them. For a while he didn’t even speak, which certainly didn’t help when he kept getting kicked out of foster homes for setting shit on fire. He’s not gonna lie and say he didn’t get some satisfaction of being a little shit to them, but he hoped he matured a little since then.

She gave him a look that tells him that she knows exactly what he’s thinking, but the little smile showed that she wasn’t particularly angry. “Do you have any questions, Keith?”

“Why is Shiro on my case? He’s not even a social worker.”

“Well, it’s complicated. About a little over a year ago I contacted him when he was working as Altea’s guidance counselor for a couple of months asking if there was any information about you that could help. He offered to house you and while that would’ve been ideal he was fresh out of graduate school, it was years since you’ve last seen him, and his housing wasn’t exactly fireproof. It didn’t seem like the best situation when I already had Scarlet in mind.

“But he wanted to help and now he’s helping me part-time and the school’s liaison. Working with him and Allura has honestly been a godsend. His only cases are you and Plaxum, but it’s more so school focused. Other than you he’s not doing more than what his guidance counseling requires.”

Keith nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. But why are you meeting with me now?”

She smiled at him. A very genuine smile that was very fond but somehow seemed a little sad. “Well, it’s been a couple of years but we have met before. You were still so closed off I’m not surprised you don’t remember, but I heard from Shiro that you’re doing better so I thought this might be a good time.” Her phone buzzed and she quickly texted back, she shook her head fondly, still texting. “I’m sorry, it’s just my youngest son. He’s just being ridiculous.” She put away her phone. “Okay, so Shiro told me that you have some concerns over your control? It looks like you have plenty of control right now, nothing’s on fire and you had that flame under control from before.”

He frowned a little bit, so she was keeping tabs on him. He flexed his fingers. It’s true, he was pretty under control right now but he could still feel the heat swimming just under his skin. “I’m pretty calm right now. And that flame was really small.”

“Well, from previous reports it seemed that even that is an improvement from when you were younger.”

His brow furrowed. “I suppose.”

She held up her hand in a placating gesture, silver bracelets jingling. “I apologize, I just meant is that you do have control. Don’t discredit the work that you made to get here. Isn’t there someone at school that can help you with controlling your powers?”

That’s something that never occurred to him before. He supposed that he did do a lot of work to make sure that he has more control than he did before. He watched as the heat from his hands melt the leftover ice cubes in the glass that didn’t fall. His gloves weren’t smoking but acting like a furnace in eighty-degree weather wasn’t his goal. He set his hands in his lap. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, there’s no harm in asking. The sooner you find a tutor the sooner you learn and the sooner you won’t have to worry about your powers.” She might have a point but he’s been fine up until that point. Like she said he’s made improvements, he’s sure that he can make more. But how long would that take? That annoying voice of Shiro’s slithered its way into his thoughts again. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, alright? I believe under certain circumstances I can use some connections to get a portable nullifier.” She checked her watch and made her way to stand. “I’m sorry, Keith, but I have to go. If you need anything just ask okay? Shiro has my number if you need it.”

He stood up too, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket. The smooth texture of the envelope met his fingers. “Okay, I’ll tell Shiro if I need anything, and I might take you up on the offer for a nullifier.”

She shook a finger at him. “That nullifier is just in special circumstances. Like in crowded contained areas.” Her phone buzzed again continuously. “I’m sorry, it must be my son. I hope to hear from you soon, Keith!”

She rushed off speaking rapidly in Spanish. He didn’t catch much other than a brief squawk of, “Cora did what?!” followed by even more frantic Spanish as she started to jog to her car.

He snorted softly, pulling out two dollars out of his wallet for the tip. Instead of returning it to his pants pocket he clutched it in his hand in his hoodie. The pointy corners of the unopened letter jabbed at his palms. He scowled. He wasn’t evil and he wasn’t going to turn evil either. No matter what others think. Plaxum’s mother might be the exception but he’s not even going to go there.

His fingers rip off the flap on the crease, a neat, straight as an arrow line. He tosses the flap in the small trash on the bus. Foregoing a seat he wraps a hand around a yellow pole and waits out the bumpy ride. His other hand in his pocket slowly tore the rest of the envelope on the crease until he could slip out of the letter. He briefly thought that maybe he should wait until he’s around a source of water.

No matter what’s inside you don’t have to do anything it says. It doesn’t have to change you, okay?

Keith’s mouth pinched at the implication. Steeling his determination he took out the letter and let it unfold on its own. Emotions shoved to that dusty box in the back of his mind he started reading the familiar handwriting.

There’s nothing to change.

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6

Ao3

[cupidsbower]

I’m still the same old me, that’s all I’ll ever be

Supernatural 12x17, “The British Invasion,” and 12x18, “The Memory Remains.”

Two episodes about legacies, two episodes about how our actions can shape the future. Two episodes about making connections and breaking them. And irony. Don’t forget the irony. That’s key!

There have been several British Invasions of the Americas, notably Columbus of course, and the War of Independence perhaps also counts, but ironically, the invasion actually called “The British Invasion” was... wait for it... pop music in the 1960s. The Beatles. The Animals. The Kinks!

Hahahaha.

Anyway, there was also a “Second British Invasion” in the 80s, which included this gem, which wasn’t on the soundtrack for 12x17 but really, really should have been.

Come On Eileen, by Dexys Midnight Runners

A song about religious guilt, symbolised by desire for a pretty girl called Eileen. On the money, right? *pointedly looks at Mick’s cultish brainwashing*

So, Eileen. She was the highlight of this episode. I love her so! Sam is obviously a bit smitten, and who can blame him. I really adore their dynamic. I’m slightly less enamoured that her life was Mick’s final exam, but she lived so I’m letting it go.

In short, Eileen can come back any time. In fact, I’m intrigued by the possibilities of her coming back. She retreated to Ireland after the accidental shooting of Renny Rawlings, upper-class twit par excellence. And here’s the thing about Ireland... lets just say it doesn’t exactly have a happy relationship with Britain, and would not take kindly to the BMOL doing anything on their turf. Eileen is probably pretty safe there. If Eileen does return this season, it wouldn’t surprise me if she comes back with some Irish colleagues who are sympathetic to the Americans.

The three other meaty aspects of this episode are Mick’s arc, Kelly’s pregnancy, and Mary’s dubious sexual choices.

Mick, ah Mick. You were objectively kind of horrible, but the writers did a pretty good job of making me marginally sympathetic in this episode. Being brainwashed as a kid casts a long shadow, as John’s legacy has demonstrated only too well, and Mick’s childhood was obviously very much an indoctrination into the cult of the BMOL. He just didn’t have quite enough time to grow out of its shadow before it swallowed him up.

Mick’s fate was decided by abusive “nurturing” (if it can be called nurturing) by an adoptive female guardian (the anti-Mary -- present but terrible, instead of a terrible absence). He was indoctrinated into a legacy that shared many of the same problems as Sam and Dean’s, but like them, Mick started to question and see shades of grey once he achieved some distance from the abusive authority figure. Mick’s journey raises the question once more: is a nephilim born evil, or is it raised evil? How much does maternity/paternity define the child, and how much is choice?

I kind of like the symmetry of Mick’s arc, because in the last episode with Claire, and now this one with Eileen, the female characters were lessons for Mick. But his completed arc has turned out to be another kind of lesson -- it’s a major mirror for the nephilim arc. And for all that Lucifer seems so sure it’s a boy, I have my suspicions that it’s a girl. The foreshadowing is definitely hinting at it.

Which brings me to Kelly’s pregnancy. I have such mixed feelings about this plotline. The show is being so cautious, which I get is because they don’t want to alienate their conservative viewers. But I do wish Kelly’s arc had a bit more nuance. I have no objection to her loving her unborn child, or wanting to have it. I do wish we had a bit more insight into her hopes, fears and plans, though. I mean, she was the aide to a super-religious President, right? But she also had sex with him out of wedlock. These are potential contradictions, but we have no insight into how she thinks about them -- I’m curious about where she is on the religious spectrum. Is she also super-religious, and if so, would her fear of Lucifer trump her love of an unborn child? And if she’s not super-religious, what the hell is she making of all this? Is she afraid she’ll die, or does she think that’s hokum and a good hospital will do the trick? Is she missing her friends and family? Does she have any???

Like, I get that she’s probably going to be a disposable container who dies at the end of the season, so that our leads have a baby to deal with next season, but come on. Surely we can get some characterisation along the way before she’s fridged???? This is potentially such rich ground, and we’ve basically been given bupkis.

Now Mary, on the other hand, I’m enjoying a lot. It’s such a pleasure to learn more about her, and get some fresh and unexpected characterisation. I don’t really like her very much at the moment, but her choices are so interesting! Choosing to sleep with Ketch is fascinating (and gross) for so many reasons. For a start, it means she’s coming back to life. She’s making choices about her own pleasure. Sure they are kind of shitty choices, but just a few eps ago, she was in a place where she seemed to see no joy in life as a possibility for her at all, even such fleeting solace as this. I’m curious to see how this will play out. Ketch is a psychopath, but he’s an obsessive one I think. I don’t foresee any love-inspired turning-over of leaves in his future, but I do see him acting in a skeevy or possessive way which has unintended consequences that pay off in interesting plot twists.

Aside from all of that, Mary’s choice to have sex with someone she doesn’t have any deeper feelings for also draws the parallel between her and Dean ever more clearly. Mary will choose pleasure of the moment when she can’t have the deeper pleasures and connections she really wants, and she’s very much aware that this is the choice she’s making. Dean makes exactly the same choice in the very next episode, which is kind of extraordinary once you dig into it. We’ve already had the impala scene, in which Dean realised Mary had had sex in it (just as he has), so the sexual parallel between them isn’t new. But the larger implication of why they both chose fleeting sexual pleasure at this particular moment is new -- for Mary it’s about pining and solace and wanting to feel alive, which due to the parallel implies that it’s also about pining and solace and life for Dean. Both of them are pining for people who aren’t there. Both of them try to take what they can from life anyway.

I keep thinking the show must have plumbed the depths of the possibilities for queer subtext, and then it basically parallels Castiel and John as the missing lovers in question, and I just... Really? Really?

Moving on to 12x18, this episode had some lovely writing in it. From the unacknowledged queer possibilities in the opening scene -- two guys watching het couples make out, and getting off on it -- to the goddamn gorgeous subversion of John’s hunting motto, and a bunch of other things too, this ep made me happy. John Bring, I like you, Please write more!

So there were two main plot strands in this ep, and one major theme. On the one hand we have the bunker being invaded by the BMOL, and on the other, we have the Winchesters taking out a god, no big deal. And through it all runs the thread of legacies -- the things we leave behind for those who come after us.

The title of the ep is probably taken from the Metallica song of the same name, about an aging film star who goes off the rails as their fame fades. Rather like the British Empire has faded compared to its former colony, for instance.

However, the track in the episode which is most directly related to the BMOL is Bongzilla’s Prohibition (4th Amendment). I confess, I had no idea there was such a thing as a stoner band called Bongzilla, but now I have been educated! Their song Prohibition (4th Amendment) is exactly what it sounds like -- an ode to the 4th Amendment to the US Constitution, which “prohibits unreasonable searches and seizures” (x). Obviously an important issue to stoners. I guess.

My main takeaway from the BMOL’s search of the bunker was sadness. I’m now pretty sure that Sam and Dean are going to lose their home when they reject the legacy of the MOL at the end of the season. All that will remain are those carved initials... assuming the whole bunker isn’t blown up, due to the explosive birth of a nephilim for instance.

There’s no doubt in my mind, however, that a rejection of the MOL legacy is coming for Sam and Dean, and it won’t go easy.

The only other thing I want to say about the BMOL strand of this ep is that Ketch’s weird Thing for the Winchesters is officially creepy, especially as it’s not entirely clear whether it’s a Thing for Mary or a Thing for Dean -- Ketch did that whole seduction play for Dean several eps ago, long before Mary decided to jump that, and both Dean and Mary are in the pic.

Maybe it’s both! Ugh barely expresses it really.

I for one will enjoy it very much when he gets his comeuppance.

Moving on to the hunt part of the episode. There are so many things to enjoy here. First, it’s a god, and as Dean says, it’s just “normal” to go eight rounds with one and win if you’re a Winchester. I really do love the juxtaposition of the Winchesters casually taking out a god (Sam is so badass), while the very human BMOL are their actual antagonists for the season. The ridiculousness of it delights me.

The little details of the plot are delightful too. We have the Sheriff who is fighting the legacy of his past, compared with the other kind of legacy -- the illegitimate brother who wants to inherit the sins of the father. And that’s when we get this, which was a highlight of the ep for me:

Pete: That's what we do, right? Hunting people. Killing them. The family business.

And the reason I love it so much is because this is straight out telling us that the Winchester script is no longer John’s script. Because what Pete says shows up just how wrong it is. Hunting and killing people is not the family business. First, because it’s no longer possible to tell who “people” are just by whether they are human or supernatural, and second, because as Sam told us, what matters is saving people -- that is Sam and Dean’s legacy. That is their business.

Sam: But the people we saved, they're our legacy. And they'll remember us and then I guess we'll eventually fade away, too.

When we get these glimpses of Sam’s inner life, it makes me yearn for more. I had so much hope this season was going to be a Sam season, given how it started, but it seems to have trailed off in the second half and I miss it. More inner Sam, please, Mr Dabb.

Anyway, they are not hunters. They are saviours! I mean... *waves hands wildly* Oh em gee. That’s huge!

I am now 100% convinced that the nephilim baby will not die because of Sam, Dean or Castiel. They’ll save it, because it’s the family business.

Okay, the one other thing I want to talk about is Dean and his liaison with the waitress. I’ve already mentioned the parallel with Mary, but I have to say, I liked this part of the ep. It was so cheesy, but it was also Dean celebrating life, which we haven’t seen in a while. Everything from the music as he undertook his hilarious seduction (Tony Hatch’s Music to Watch Girls By) to the affectionate look on Sam’s face the morning after -- it was done with a light touch, and didn’t come off as a no-homo to me. Rather, it felt like a blast from the past. A happy, nostalgic nod back to Dean’s past, signalling that there’s about to be a major shift in his path as we go into season 13.

And the capper, as he ate his hamburger afterwards without a glance at the waitress, was this playing in the background.

Burgers and Fries, Charley Pride

If that’s not a goodbye to a major part of his life that’s now over, I don’t know what is.

Previously:

The Ministry of Information vs Wayward Sons Carrying On (12x01)

My, my, how can I resist you? (12x02) and follow-up about Bohemian Raphsody

So what am I so afraid of? (I think I love you) (12x03)

I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy Down in my heart (Where?) (12x04) and a follow-up about the codependency and about Dean’s self-flagellation and issues with space

There can be only one! (12x05), and a follow-up conversation with elizabethrobertajones on Freud vs Schwartz.

They shall fall by the sword: they shall be a portion for foxes (12x06)  

Presenting the Immaculate Heart Reunion Tour (12x07)    

I’m still living the life where you get home and open the fridge and there’s half a pot of yogurt and a half a can of flat Coca-Cola. ~Alan Rickman (12x08, 12x09)

When the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men (12x10)    

in re (12x11)

Making the most of teachable moments (12x12) and an added thought, In-and-out-laws

Don’t fuck with the branches on my family tree (12x13)

To Protect and to Serve (12x14) and some more thoughts

Hiding in the shadow of love (12x15) and some further thoughts in response to @elizabethrobertajones‘ meta.

You’re living in the past, it’s a new generation (12x16)

[meyerlansky]

platoapproved replied to your photo “boardwalk empire: daemon au [5/?] arnold  –  clouded leopard…”

post the deets immediately just saying

UM EXCUSE YOU’RE NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE ONLINE THIS WEEKEND I SAW UR POSTS

i am working on the writeups for the previous two posts, i swear, but. you all know who i am as a person at this point. team ny’s picks were the FIRST ONES I DID and i’m fairly secure in the rationale for all of them SO UH:

ar — clouded leopard

given the rationale for the other bird daemons i assigned, ar probably should’ve gotten the birdiest bird of all time, but i picked all four of these out before anyone else’s so he’s solidly been a clouded leopard for me for like two years. clouded leopards are at least semi-arboreal, though, so the “above street level” mentality plays out there, and he is more directly involved in the actual dirty work of gangstering than nucky, who does still try to play politician for a good chunk of the series. ar is pulled back far enough from the cooperative elements of the organization he oversees that giving him a canid wouldn’t have fit, but a big cat fits his mystique and reserve perfectly. at the same time, something like a tiger or other well-known big cat is too flashy, too visible, too obvious. clouded leopards are supremely under-studied and not a whole lot is known about them in comparison to other apex predators, so it seemed like a sensible choice of species. all four of them have bonus details and are more fleshed out than most other characters’ daemons are, because, again, you all know who i am as a person at this point, so here are ar’s: her name is maximiliane, with every flourish of pronunciation that is appropriate on a name like that. they settled in ar’s late teens, after a few years of skulking around pool halls playing at wolves to try to fit in. once ar figures out how to work the flow of gambling, they try some of those flashier big cat forms on for size, but it’s not until ar owns a few games of his own that she settles into a clouded leopard.

charlie — black-backed jackal

charlie’s daemon has actually gone through two iterations; he is the archetypical wild canid for sure, so that was never in question, but picking out the species has gone through some changes. initially i gave him a golden jackal, but after thinking about it more in depth i switched the species to a black-backed jackal instead. superficially, black-backed jackals are much prettier to look at than golden jackals, they’re much more visually striking and, listen, charlie’s a pretty boy, i’m not gonna let that go unacknowledged in the daemon i pick for him, i’m allowed to be superficial here. the more in-depth reasons include the more basal nature of the black-backed jackal’s taxonomy: they’re more removed from domestication than any other wolf or jackal, but not as removed as the foxes like chalky’s grey fox. charlie very much has a “pack” in meyer and benny, and operates best when he’s got the support of that pack, but he pushes back pretty hard against the idea that he should be loyal to other italians just because they’re also italian, considering he calls for the death of the two bosses who try to keep him from his partners and profits, so the black-backed jackal’s taxonomic position fits better than the golden jackal’s did. [for reference, the golden jackal is more closely related to the ethiopian wolf, but jimmy’s reliance on the traditional don’t-make-waves structure of AC’s political maneuvering got him killed, so i wanted charlie further up the chain than that.] black-backed jackals are also relatively less specialized than a lot of canids, and able to survive in a variety of environments—the parallel to charlie’s prolific business [and personal] ties to non-italian gangsters is probably clear there. the only holdover from the golden jackal daemon days is her name, which is oriana, from the italian for “golden” because i am unoriginal and uninspired in my naming. they settled after charlie’d been in hampton farms for about a month; for at least a year or two before that they were trying on different canids for size, but he comes out of hampton farms with a concrete idea of who he is and who he wants to be, and it’s just about the only good thing they take out of there.

meyer — beech marten

THEY EAT CARS. BEECH MARTENS EAT CARS AND NO ONE KNOWS WHY THEY DO IT. i don’t even NEED any other reasons for this one. I HAVE THEM, but i feel the need to stress that the car-eating is a determining factor in determining daemon species for ex-tool-and-die-shop-worker car-nerd meyer. because, really, any of the martes or mustela species would work pretty well for him? he’s tiny and cute and looks relatively nonthreatening, but then you find out that beech martens routinely take down hares twice their size and there’s a few recorded incidences of house cats [who are effectively tiny superpredators in their own right] being injured or killed by martens, and after that you’re a bit less flippant about saying they’re harmless. that said, beech martens in particular do tend to forage a bit more than pine martens or fishers, and since meyer tends to prefer the least-confrontational option [until he doesn’t] that felt like a pretty good fit. also, beech marten pelts are generally considered less desirable to trappers than pine marten or sable pelts, so there’s a comparison to be made there wrt meyer’s exclusion from the formal “mafia” structure on the basis of not-being-italian which you all know i have my own scholarly gripes about but ANYWAY. bonuses for meyer: her name is atarah, which i have in my notes is the hebrew word for “crown” because, again, i am uninspired and unoriginal when it comes to names. they settled early, i mean early-early, as in before meyer hits his teens. meyer and atarah prefer to have it out of the way, but it… unsettles people. for a few years. which they find useful, most of the time, but the set of people that are unsettled by how early they settle include meyer’s family. that stings, a little bit.

benny — black-necked spitting cobra

like charlie, benny also went through a few iterations of species, and i honestly had trouble nailing him down to an ORDER for a while. i settled on something with some sort of externalized offensive “attack” pretty early on, given how combative he is. very prominent in the running was a bombardier beetle, both because they also spray chemicals as a form of attack, and because it plays into the “bugsy” nickname, but ultimately the nickname is why i decided against it; since by all accounts benny hated being called that and i don’t really want to saddle him with a soul that he hates, and because i’m not super comfortable with the ableism of the nickname, i shelved that one as his permanently settled form pretty quick. in the AU itself, though, i think they did a long stint with the bombardier beetle form, long enough that people thought that might be what they settled as, which itself contributed to the nickname. once it started bothering them, they tried on other forms for size and eventually she settles as a black-necked spitting cobra. it maintains the offensive attack thing, while also being flashy as fuck. a jet black huge fuck-off cobra is so up benny’s alley i cannot even stand it. it took some figuring out to pick a spitting cobra species, and i’d be lying if i said the flashiness of the black-necked cobra wasn’t a heavy factor. one of the other species in the running was the rinkhals, which also has an interesting visual appearance. the black-necked spitting cobra has higher accuracy with its venom, though, and a higher tendency to spit in the first place than most other spitting cobras. she’s named neva, from the hebrew for “speech,” and in terms of settling, they’re pretty much the exact opposite of meyer in that they settled very late, probably not before benny’s early 20s. they enjoy the freedom of multiple forms for as long as possible, and even after neva settles they’re never 100% comfortable with feeling stuck as one thing.