#ill keep him in mind when ill need help with battle research for a story or smth along those lines. wonderful to have a well sourced place-

[spotsupstuff]

i'm glad you enjoyed brandon F

little note about the uniform thing, the reason why he drags on a bit on that is cause he's a reenactor, 18th century uniforms are his insane obsession. he even jokes about it in the video i sent, saying "i'm finally back to my insufferable self!" when talking about the muskets

i don't blame him tbh, after watching his content for a while i had the realization that 18th century isn't like the romans, whose equipment we deduce through archeology, old sources and guess work.

like, the actual documents that standardized 18th century uniforms still exist and are not hard to access, i realized that after Brandon noted that his source was the fucking British Royal Library in London. ( i mean ffs there's literally photos of Napoleonic era vets heres a video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=npSru7xEzX8)

and i honestly think its relevant, because if a million dollar historical production didn't want to put in the effort to go to a library and get the official documents. then what else they weren't bothered to get right?

but Brandon doesn't just do historical reviews he also talks a lot about the history in general. like, why fight in lines? what were marines in the 18th century? the history of tactics. and what role did cavalry play in line warfare? for example

heavens bless people of utube that manage to get hyperfixated on one topic for basically their entire life and then proceed to make stuff about it for us to watch, right? it's a delight to listen to someone who actually enjoys the subject and their subject therefore basically guarantees the authencity of what they put out

oooh but yes, the concept itself of what we actually get to know about things in what manner is fascinating in on itself. so since i was small i had been very fascinated by chinese mythology and mythology somewhat comes along with other parts of the culture and so on. and you know how the chinese culture is one of the oldest in the world?

as a result i've somewhat grown accustomed to the numbers that are typical to the span of chinese history and now whenever i go look into the history of my own country i'm actually stumped over how recently certain things happened! then again you wouldn't believe how oppressed or manipulated slovaks had been across history. ain't that right -glares at hungary-

to what extent we know which culture's history is so wild. the ability for certain historical things to simply last is absolutely incredible (such as military uniform documents or musical pieces of 18th century). fun fact! there's still messages written in stone by the soldiers of the roman empire on slovakia's territory. right near Danube, i think, p sure i visited that

thank fuck for reliable sourcing and also thank u for that vid that's gon come in handy for clothing references at Some point, i can feel it

and you are absolutely correct, yes! it Is relevant! as mister Brandon has said, there's of course a certain leeway allowed when it comes to more kid oriented stuff, but i'll admit! i was surprised to learn that serious historical productions apparently put less effort into these kind of things than the sea beast did (i don't usually watch those kind of things, i'm very fantasy/sci-fi and cartoon focused)

this kind of muddling of history that may seem "insignificant" to money grabbing bastards really screws up the perception of the eras for people who don't really have the time or the drive to look into things themselves. it's annoying

oh while we are on this history stuff, i saw this originally in utube shorts, but Apparently they are making a netflix movie or smth about Cleopatra and they made her black?? which is weird, considering that Cleopatra was greek and all that stuff. like don't get me wrong, yes give silenced/less known cultures like black folk more space to present themselves and who they are but like don't do it in a way that heavily skews the history? why are you going out of your way to create misinformation that could heavily impact understanding of history by taking out an already famous (not poc) person instead of Actually making the space for historically important black people. like maybe why not make a movie about that one super rich king from the southwestern coast of Africa (i think) that crashed the egyptian economy twice by being just too damn generous. that would be SO much more helpful to black peeps' history than shoving a black person into the place of a white one

i swear films nowadays either lack soul, heart, spine or brain like 98% of time

[thearchertheprey]

HELLO HI i love calem. can you share your thoughts

oh my goodness please ive been waiting for the opportunity. thank you.

this is your neighbor, calem leblanc-balbir. he's a fairy-type specialist who works as diantha's personal assistant. he's quite the renaissance man -- manager, artist, poet, musician, linguist, historian. and he's continuing the 2headlightshine trademark of main characters who arent protagonists.

calem leblanc is 16 when you meet him. he's kinda vain and full of himself and a jerk and he makes fun of your mom for rhyhorn racing. but he's a good friend beneath all the glitz and glamour. he's a loyal young man. a perceptive young man, a little too aware of your gruff persona. a painfully selfless young man. this is his blessing and his curse.

you are 16 when the ultimate weapon blossoms from geosenge town, pulsing with a core powered by death itself. you are the hero of this story, and they send you down beneath the earth on a funeral procession, with your jacket tied around your shoulders like burial robes. you know you are going to die. the adults who sent you down there know you are going to die. the man who is firing the weapon knows you are both going to die.

your neighbor refuses to accept that you will die.

calem leblanc steals the maps of the man who is firing the weapon, and he finds the Tree of Life, imprisoned beneath the earth to prevent its interference with the ultimate weapon.

calem kneels before the Tree, hand over his heart.

"i need your help," he pleas. "my friend -- serena dupont -- she is going to die, and there is no one there to save her from her fate. Xerneas Cornucopion, Breath of All Living Things -- i know i am not strong enough to save her from this curse. but if it be your will, i willingly trade my life for hers. i lay myself here at your roots. let me be her sword and shield. i am not smart, or brave, or kind, but i am here, and i am ready."

calem leblanc frees the Tree of Life from its chains. on its back, he rides into battle. no one on earth has ever been more joyous to participate in a funeral procession.

calem arrives just in the nick of time. the tree's roots spread. Death, startled and in immense agony, aims its Oblivion Wing at you. a figure cased in pink light rushes in front of you and absorbs the blow. the world goes white.

you both survive, but not untouched.

the Tree saw a proper messenger in calem. in the moment he laid down his life, it gifted him the Boon of Life, knowing he would use it for the good of others. now, even as you make your way through your mid-twenties, you can already notice he doesn't age. when he touches you, it soothes your aches and pains. when he holds diantha's hands, her arthritis eases. once he dropped a kitchen knife on his foot -- the blood sparkled and dissipated, and the wound healed in minutes. when he's emotional, he glows. it would be funny if not for the reality of what it means for him. and for you, detective serena dupont, tasked by your superiors at interpol to apprehend abnormalities just like this. just like you.

your sword and shield took most of the blow, but he could not protect all of you. you carry the Kiss of Death and you know it. the discoloration slowly creeps out from your chest like spider veins. and as calem maintains his stupidly flawless complexion, your face shows age faster and faster compared to your untouched peers. your bones ache, and your mind struggles to keep up -- but most of all, your soul strains. death will come to collect its dues eventually. it isn't evil, or ill-intentioned, but simply natural order.

calem leblanc is working himself to the bone in order to defy fate a second time. he works a dayjob as a personal assistant for retired actress diantha diamandis. then he picks up dinner, rushes home, and spends every waking hour left researching remedies for the kiss of death. there isn't one. not yet. maybe it's still out there. maybe he's the remedy. maybe it's love, like in the fairytales. maybe life and death can only run from each other for so long before they meet in the middle.

but he's not giving up. not on this. not on you.

you can see in his face -- his blessing is a curse after all. but he'll never put that burden on you. he's always been selfless like that.

[vvienne]

RANWAN FIC RECS

Absolute Zero by jitterati

Pathologically solitary academic Chu Wanning left behind a life of research to enlist with the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps Jaeger team when giant monsters began to emerge from the Pacific ocean, eager to leave his personal entanglements behind him and join humanity's collective battle against the threat of extinction.

His goal is to build an artificial intelligence that will allow a pilot to operate a Jaeger mech solo - eliminating the need for pilot compatibility and the mortifying ordeal of being totally known by another person, a "neurological handshake" known colloquially as the drift.

He didn't expect his former students to follow him all the way to front line of the war against the kaiju.

Featuring lots of side character interaction, pining, yearning, questions on the nature of personhood, friendship between jerks, people coping badly with loss, snarky AI, and giant robots. Illustrations by Saika & Daru

Husky and his White Kitten Disciple by JustAMoon123

Within a lonely heart, the seeds of hatred start to grow.

-A 2ha Age and Role-Reversal AU.-

NOTE: This Story is Now E Rated!

[Before meeting Chu Wanning, Mo Ran had drawn his power exclusively from the Wood side of his dual Spiritual Root, and his Qi had always glowed green.

Now, only when in battle did it do so, with Bugui’s blade encased in a tyrannical green light.

Outside of battle, like when he set barriers of warmth; or made Crystal Butterflies to tease golden flowers; or cast a small array to keep a box of food warm, his Qi manifested with a gentle red glow.

Mo Ran’s Wood was destructive, while his Fire was protective.

Ah, Mo Weiyu, Mo Weiyu. Even your power betrays you.]

Burn, Pine, and Perish by moonqueenmaia

It’s been two days since Taxian-Jun’s last visit, and Mo Ran hasn’t touched Chu Wanning at all, beyond gentle and fleeting caresses. Chu Wanning decides to take matters into his own hands by surprising Mo Ran when he comes back to their home after a trip down the mountain.

it's no coincidence (it's a kitty-incidence) by lanzhan (gothguk)

There’s a white cat lounging in the middle of Mo Ran's bed.

to touch you with bare hands (even if it burns) by moonqueenmaia

Chu Wanning is a renowned professor of mechanical engineering at Sisheng Peak University. Beautiful, lonely, and talented beyond belief, he has spent his 32 years mostly by himself, silently and secretly yearning for affection and companionship. Yet Chu Wanning has resolved to himself that he will spend the rest of his life alone, no matter his hidden fantasies.

Enter Taxian-jun, an unruly, arrogant, and struggling student, fiery and domineering, who comes in and shatters the calm of Chu Wanning's life. They enter into an agreement, both burying their feelings underneath a storm of lust and lies. Yet amidst it all, something deeper may be helplessly and slowly blooming.

It is up to them to cultivate it, or destroy it for good.

cursed by devilsoupe

Chu Wanning and his disciples are sent to investigate an abandoned village, and Chu Wanning is hit with a curse.

Mo Ran was determined to treat his shizun respectfully in this life, but what choice does he have?

liar liar cock on fire by lofikv

I (32M) walked in on my roommate (23M) masturbating in our living room. Ever since then I couldn't erase the image of his penis in my mind but I found a sex toy online that is almost as big as him, so I bought it and tried it on myself so that I can imagine how he would feel inside me. I have also been romantically attracted to him ever since we started living together. How can I cope with this?

UPDATE: He caught me in the middle of an emergency.

(Absolute) Unit 311 by devilsoupe

Chu Wanning doesn't have a soulmark.

Neither does Mo Ran.

ducks entering highway by Sectionladvivi

Mo Ran finds out his well-respected, MILF-coded, tears-of-angels-tight-ass robotics professor moonlights as an erotic novelist. He immediately leverages this knowledge for an opportunity to play tonsil hockey.

to yearn by devilsoupe

Chu Wanning starts to cough up flowers. Taxian-Jun is angry. Chu Wanning is not allowed to die pining for someone else.

When it starts happening again in his second life, Mo Ran knows enough to worry.

from blossom to blossom to impossible blossom by Wildehack (tyleet)

Taxian Jun is the victim of a flower curse.

sticky fingers by fakeplasticlily

The man tosses the towel unceremoniously back at Mo Ran’s chest, like he’s personally offended by it. And the fact that his hands had just been all over said chest barely minutes earlier, maybe. “Please pack a box of egg tarts with extra custard filling, a box of red bean paste buns with extra syrup, a rice pudding with extra candied fruit garnish, and a box of osmanthus cakes with extra sweet pear jam.” Mo Ran’s eyes grow progressively wider as he lists the items. It’s him. Not the suburban mother of four, not the elderly guy dealing with a midlife crisis, but quite possibly the hottest guy he’s ever seen. Who also happens to have the highest sugar tolerance Mo Ran has seen in a human being in his two years of running this bakery. 

Hard to Love The Lonely Night by bloodsongs

Chu Wanning glares up at him, adjusting his women’s robes. “Still, why couldn’t you have been the wife instead?”

Coughing politely, Mo Ran looks to the side, avoiding his gaze. “Shizun’s skills with the illusion barrier far surpass this humble disciple’s, and, well…”

He doesn’t need to complete his sentence—it’s infuriating, but Mo Ran is now taller than him, broader than him, larger than him. Very much so. The young sapling he raised in Sisheng Peak is now a full-fledged tree, a man built like the mountains Chu Wanning has seen in his travels.

Chu Wanning and Mo Ran pretend to be a married couple visiting a small mountain town to investigate some suspicious disappearances. Mini Canon AU casefic. Contains spoilers up to Chapter 130 or so of the novel.

Purple Ink by jeejaschocolate

Chu Wanning is a robotics engineer who lives a life of isolation and loneliness, only partially due to his chronic illness. Eventually he gets so sick that he requires the help of a full-time medical assistant.

Of course, these days, all those jobs are given to CyberLife androids.

Chu Wanning resents the android they give him. From his fiery eyes to his long black hair, to his incomparable tenderness and consideration for Wanning’s feelings.

He resents him. All the way until he falls in love with him.

Fallen Flowers in Swallows' Nests by bloodsongs

You deserve better—I refuse to disrespect you ever again. I want to be better. I must be better.

But I don’t know how. I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know where Taxian-Jun ends and Mo-Zongshi begins.

I only know now that I cannot lie to myself: I want you so fiercely that I burn with it, I am consumed with the desire to make you mine and mine alone. To become one with you, feeling your fire twine with mine.

Or, Chu Wanning finds letters from Mo-Zongshi that were never shared with him.

These hitherto undiscovered letters cover a range of emotions that weren't present in the book he gifted his Shizun: contrition, yearning, and desire.

Counterpoint by senchafloat

Five years ago, Mo Ran was just a boy who loved playing piano—there were many things he didn't know. He didn't know how capricious and unforgiving the world of classical music could be. He didn't know just how lucky he was to have Chu Wanning as his teacher.

Five years later, Chu Wanning is now a renowned concert pianist, and Mo Ran is an upstart conducting student. When Chu Wanning shows up unannounced at his alma mater, Mo Ran has plenty of questions, along with a desire to prove his worth to his old teacher. But as it turns out, Chu Wanning isn't as invincible as he once seemed. As old secrets come up to the surface, the two of them are forced to reinvent the ways they'll make music together.

impatient to adore you by riverdanceeee

At some heartbreaking point in his life, Mo Ran accepted that Chu Wanning would never reciprocate his feelings, so he dealt with it as any other person would. He'd rid himself of his affection, respect their friendship, and learn to move on. But Mo Ran's affection runs too deep, and when any opportunity to spend time with Chu Wanning knocks on his door, he goes running to answer and accept. Even if it means he has to break up a potentially dangerous dog fighting ring.

To Bow Before A Willow Vine by bloodsongs

“I…” Mo Ran hadn’t thought that far. He shakes his head, lowering his head in deference, resting his forehead against Chu Wanning’s knuckles. "I'll do anything you want of me."

The silence stretches on for a beat too long.

"Anything?" Chu Wanning says eventually, tilting his head.

Written for 2Ha Week, Day 4: Reverse AU for the 0.5 timeline. When Chu Wanning storms Sisheng Peak and crowns himself the cultivation world's new emperor, Mo Ran trades his life for Xue Meng's. Contains spoilers for up to the end of the novel.

Call me by my name by rinsled05

When the man called Taxian-Jun arrives, years later, it’s the coming of a storm.

He sweeps into a dinner appointment between Chu Wanning and a client, clad in black, a smirk tugging at his mouth. Over the spark of irritation, Chu Wanning can’t help but admire his lean frame, the way his hair, cut rebelliously short, falls over smoldering, dark eyes. The way he towers over him, even when Chu Wanning rises to full height.

Chu Wanning’s heart races as Taxian-Jun leans in close, ignoring the shouts and gasps around them.

“Sakaki of Ran,” he purrs in their native tongue. “You’re mine.”

Chu Wanning lifts his chin. “I don’t know you.”

“You will,” Taxian-Jun says, and leaves.

In which Chu Wanning is a courtesan serving Chinese merchants in Nagasaki, Japan, and Taxian-Jun decides to make him his.

荷官牌型 ♠️ The Croupier's Hand by bloodsongs

In deep financial straits after losing his job as a teacher, a desperate Chu Wanning becomes a croupier at Sisheng's new casino.

The once sleepy town of Sisheng Peak grows busier by the day as the casino draws more and more tourists to their mountains. Consumed by his lingering regrets over the worst mistake of his life that destroyed his teaching career, Chu Wanning is too distracted to worry about anything else but his next shift, his next paycheck.

Except that's when Mo Ran, the reason Chu Wanning lost everything, returns to Sisheng Peak.

As the heir to the casino.

White Rabbit Club by minkit

Desperate to rid himself of a few pesky things called virginity and desire, Chu Wanning waltzes into a world he knows little about and right into the embrace of a mysterious stranger who reminds him of the student he's been dreaming about all year. The lust fueled dreams his student stars in are the very reason Chu Wanning applied to the sex club in the first place, and now he's desperate to get rid of these filthy impulses once and for all.

Congratulations, Chu Wanning, on your acceptance into the White Rabbit Club. We hope you enjoy your stay.

Risk and Restraint by purloinedinpetrograd

There is nobody Mo Ran works with who does not love him. He’s worked hard to cultivate this image while he climbs the corporate ladder at Sisheng, and it’s paid off in dividends. He’s in every WeChat group. He can call in favors with any division of any department. He can make even the tightest of deadlines relax their stranglehold on his team.

That is, there is nobody except, of course, Chu Wanning.

A Lingering Sweetness by theherocomplex

Chu Wanning is now all too aware of what he looks like: a dry stick of a man, never handsome, angular and cold and pale. A drab, short-tempered creature, as appealing as a splinter in one's foot. But Mo Ran looks at him as if he will never get his fill, and part of Chu Wanning thinks, What if —?

At the end of the line by PearlAquaBlue 

“So … I reckon someone thought you needed to loosen up a little bit. Now that you’re here, want to try it?”

Chu Wanning hangs up. Throws her phone on her pillow with a disgusted glare after it. Stands up and paces to the kitchen in long, angry strides. Her cheeks are burning. With trembling fingers, she grabs a glass and pours herself some water, gulping it down in one go. It doesn’t help much. She grips the kitchen counter tightly, then marches back into the bedroom to glare at the phone again. Her fingertips itch, and it’s as if some kind of magnetic force draws her closer and closer to her bed until her fingertips are but an inch away from that tempting black mirror. Before she knows it, she’s unlocked it unsteadily and pressed “repeat” on the last call.

“Welcome to Sisheng Peak – ”

“And what would that entail?” she asks, a little too breathless.

Let's Fall in Love for the Night by purloinedinpetrograd

Chu Wanning could only stare in horror as a large cloud of sickeningly yellow pollen rose from the field, blanketing the place where Mo Ran stood in a heavy fog. “Um,” he said lamely.

“Fuck,” Mo Ran cursed, and Chu Wanning didn’t even have the heart to chastise him for his coarse language, because he was too preoccupied wrestling the surge of fear at seeing his disciple disappear behind the haze of that indeterminately threatening dust.

A million terrible possibilities raced through his mind, each one more dramatic and gruesome than the last. His heart hammered against his ribcage, threatening to crack the bones. “Mo Ran,” he said slowly, “I think you should tell me what that does, now.”

Xue Zhengyong sends Chu Wanning and Mo Ran on a mission to find a specific ingredient for some concoction of his wife’s. Chu Wanning is torn between rejoicing at the chance to spend time alone with Mo Ran... and grieving over the very same thing.

But, well, it’s just flowers. What could go wrong, right? (Spoiler alert: it’s sex pollen.)

the day dawns in your hues by localshabba

2ha Week 2020 Day 1 prompt - Haitang

---

Schoolteacher Mo Ran is having an ordinary day until he has an awkward encounter with the notoriously rigid school librarian, which leads to the start of something new.

Also features: flowers, dinosaurs and lots of tenderness and pining.

helping hands by verity

When Mo Ran was but a young, innocent, virtuous grad student—well, one of those things—she built that couch from a flatpack box with her own two hands. Over the years, the smell of polyester and cheap foam padding has given way to an equally aromatic blend of Chu Wanning's haitang blossom perfume, spilled coffee, and white lithium grease. Chu Wanning herself is always perfectly dressed without a stain in sight. Even right now, her head tucked onto one folded arm, the other loosely gripping her tablet, she looks so formal.

Mo Ran gently rests a hand on Chu Wanning's socked ankle where it peeks out of those tailored white trousers. She really should behave herself.

She really should... behave herself...

in plain sight by localshabba

Written for a prompt fill in the 2ha Kink Meme.

---

"I have a surprise," Mo Ran breathed, coming to stand so close behind him that his breath landed on Chu Wanning's nape. Not touching Chu Wanning any other way, because he likes to make Chu Wanning lean back just a little bit, to seek out that contact himself.

"I think Chu-laoshi will enjoy it."

Chu Wanning is sure he agreed to the whole idea; he's just unclear on when. Things got hazy around the point when Mo Ran turned him around by the shoulders, got down on his knees and...well. Apparently he'd skipped breakfast that morning.

When he returned to his senses, his clothes were all neatly tucked into place, not a stain on them, and a charmingly pink sexual aid was nestled comfortably up his--ahem, inside him.

---

Now available in Spanish!

casually acquainted by tagteamme

Chu Wanning knows what he is and what he isn’t. And where he lacks in pleasantries and outward appeal, he makes up for in untouchable grace and dignity.

It threatens to unravel once he meets a familiar face in an unfamiliar city.

“So quick to run away from me, Chu-laoshi,” Mo Ran says, voice gently teasing as Chu Wanning refuses to make eye contact with him. “After you came all the way from…”

He trails off, waiting for Chu Wanning to let him know, but he sees the map open on Chu Wanning’s phone and grins wider. “You want directions?”

Chu Wanning clears his throat, and shakes his head. He should say something— instead, he stays silent as he looks down at his phone and punches in the hotel name again.

Happily, his phone tells him to try again when he has signal.

The Right Hand of Light by gedsparrowhawk (FaceChanger)

Chu Wanning is asleep on the bed, clutching his hands tightly to his chest and curled in on himself. He’s still wearing the same robes he was in in the water prison. On the writing desk, a bowl of water and clean linen for bandages sit untouched, and a tub of bathwater has cooled without being used. Mo Ran sighs to himself. Wanning is truly hopeless.

He sits on the side of the bed and touches Chu Wanning’s shoulder. “Wanning,” he says. “Wanning, wake up.”

---

Rare 0.5 tenderness, after the water prison.

nothing can consume you by tagteamme

Mo Ran’s violent history has never had to catch up to him.

It’s already embedded itself into him as scars on his body, as a tattoo on his forearm, as the lingering taste of blood in his sleep and finally, as the searing brand pressed against his chest before he’s thrown into the sea as punishment. He knows that this is where all his chances come to an end.

But as the deep fathom of the water swallows him up, something else saves him and pulls him to a tiny cove tucked away off the coast of an overlooked port town. When he wakes up under the care of a mythical creature wearing a familiar face, an even older and more distant past finally finds him.

[husbandomail-archive]

Do you have any headcanons for what the lives/careers of the Hoenn/Galar rivals would look like once they’re older? Thank you very much for your writing, it is always a joy to read!

Brendan follows his father’s footsteps and researches Pokémon, although he never quite becomes a full-fledged professor; he’s too interested in too many things to take on just one title. Since he owns so many Pokémon, he dabbles in contests as he fills out his dex; he also becomes known as the local HM guy, because he’s always around to help people out with a Cut or Surf or Rock Smash if they need it.

May is, in my mind, a catcher. She’s interested in seeing and owning as many Pokémon as possible. She seems the type to struggle with settling on a single dream, so like Brendan, she’ll try everything; contests are always fun, and she’s good at them, but she’s constantly going on breaks when they’re no longer exciting. She just loves to travel and explore as long as she can.

Wally continues to travel for as long as possible. In canon he at least gets to Alola, but I like to think he gets to see the entire world; now that he’s left his childhood illness behind, he’s determined to get as far as he possibly can. While he never grabs a Champion title for himself, he is offered Gym Leader positions in several regions— and the only one he’ll accept is an offer from Petalburg, when Norman finally retires.

Hop does fairly well with his newfound dream; he’s not super confident in himself as a professor, but he excels at it better than he ever thought he could. The fact that he can hold his own in battle really helps— he’s able to get through a lot more fieldwork than most of his associates. Conferences are held annually, and the other professors are always looking forward to more of Hop’s stories and discoveries.

Bede and his hatred of losing manage to keep the Ballonlea gym in the major leagues for decades. Despite his attitude never really mellowing out, he takes a lot of young trainers under his wings; Rose adopted him first, and then Opal helped raise him later, so the notion is just buried deep inside his chest. Whether he can admit to it or not, he has to provide for kids who share his unfortunate story.

Marnie originally had no interest in the role of Gym Leader, so after a few years she does step down from the position, although her love of Spikemuth never fades. Personally, I think she’d do very well as something like an event coordinator; she spends a lot of time arranging events and attractions in the hopes of revitalizing her beloved town. Naturally, her brother and Team Yell are at her command as well.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

So...Misery style, how would you make Tomione work? (Or how would you do a Tomione story?)

Thanks, Anon, this might be harder than the Dramione one.

Well, again, to please my deranged captor, I'd likely follow the plot of your standard Tomione fic and hope it passes muster. "Oh yeah, Hermione's back in time and she's doing back and forth mind games with Tom and it's really intellectual." With any luck, my feet aren't smashed into oblivion.

But I think you're trying to get at what I would really do if I really had to write Tom/Hermione and I had to make it something I would read. At least, that seems to be the spirit of this ask.

So, we're going the thriller route people. A lot like Misery, actually.

Instead of Ginny, twelve-year-old Hermione picks up the diary. Like Ginny, Hermione quickly becomes besotted with Tom Riddle trapped inside. However, unlike Ginny, Hermione goes straight to the library and starts asking pesky questions.

Hermione's never heard of memories stored in objects before, the theory behind portraits and pensieves are completely different, what spells did Tom use and where did he find them? Did Tom Riddle invent an entirely new branch of magic at the age of 16 without anyone noticing? What was Tom's special service to the school?

Tom starts sweating when it becomes clear that Hermione's stumbling a bit too close to the truth (that this is not ordinary magic and highly dangerous shit) and that she's clearly going to start asking around about Tom Riddle (to Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Hagrid, who were all near Hogwarts at the same time Tom was going to school).

Tom confesses that he may have created the diary using something very... illegal. Hermione is appalled and asks if it was gasp dark magic! He admits it is but points out it's a bit late now, like it or not, he's stuck in the diary and running to Dumbledore isn't going to make that go away any time soon. And it wasn't like Tom asked to be shoved in a diary either.

Hermione's very conflicted, on the one hand, Tom's the first real intellectual friend she's ever had. Harry and Ron are nice, but they're morons and they thinks he's a nerd. Tom encourages her intellectual pursuits and confirms her concern over various what not and what have you happening in Hogwarts.

Eventually, Hermione decides that Tom in the diary can't help being a diary (though the other Tom, the real Tom, she'd have words with), and decides that she'll try to help him get a body.

Great, that's great, Tom says.

But it keeps getting worse.

Tom tries to possess Hermione, but unlike Ginny, Hermione knows that Tom is a dangerous, dark, artifact. If she's suffering negative health effects, losing her memory and ending up in the girl's lavatory, she's going to research this and decide that either a) she's suffering ill effects of using dark magic b) she just got possessed by Tom.

Either way, she tells him she can't use the diary anymore, it's affecting her health and she must research. Well, Hermione researching does Tom no fucking good, but he can't stop her.

The Chamber of Secrets, as a result, is never opened.

Instead, Hermione continues researching, and Harry and Ron... begin to get on her nerves. It's not like last year, there's no Flamel to research, no over-arching mystery, and they seem to be growing tired of her. In turn, Hermione's getting a little tired of quidditch, getting detention, etc.

She's a little tired of Hogwarts, if she's being honest with herself.

Hermione's now had a taste of having a friend who isn't there to simply use her brains. And it's very addicting. She decides not to tell Ron and Harry about Tom, they'd just get needlessly concerned (the irony of this isn't lost on her but what can you do)

In the end, she opens back up the diary, and point blank asks what Tom needs to get a body. Before Tom can tell her, Hermione lists out her own theories. Life cannot be created from nothing, golems and puppets cannot last in the long term, to get a real body... human sacrifice is on the table, isn't it?

Well shit, Tom thinks to himself. He tries to assure Hermione it isn't but ends up confessing that, well, yes, it kind of is.

They have another huge row about it, Hermione slams the diary shut, but the wheels in her brain are spinning.

Does anyone deserve to die?

Hermione, at first, adamantly tells herself the answer is no. No one deserves to be sacrificed. Tom's fate is cruel, but the original Tom made his bed and should lie in it. It's unfortunate, but that's just life. Not the diary's fault, of course, but nothing that can be helped.

But then she keeps thinking about it.

Malfoy struts through the school like a peacock, sneering every time he sees her, laughing every time Snape deducts points from her in Potions for being a 'smarmy know-it-all'. Every time he can get away with it he's shoving her in hallways, calling her a mudblood, and assuring her that she's worth less than the dirt beneath her feet.

She watches as Malfoy torments and bullies Harry, she looks at Draco's father, and she asks herself if the world would really be so much worse off if Draco Malfoy were to disappear?

Draco Malfoy's being groomed to use dark magic, he practically brags about it at every opportunity, why is his life worth more than Tom Riddle's, someone who has paid the price for dark magic?

Isn't Hermione, in a roundabout way, only giving Draco what he deserves? The fate he'd meet at some point in the not so distant future?

Draco does something phenomenally cruel and stupid to the trio, likely to Harry, and that settles it. Hermione's going to murder that motherfucker and get Tom Riddle a body.

Hermione tells Tom the plan, she's passing off the diary to Draco, she has her full blessing, her permission, and whatever help he requires from her to eat Draco Malfoy alive.

Tom is unwillingly impressed, he was a vicious gremlin as a twelve-year-old, but even he wasn't committing murder in cold blood.

Tom's not sure how he feels about murdering a Malfoy, that's bound to get noticed, but Hermione's unyielding. Draco Malfoy, or Hermione goes to Dumbledore.

So, Draco Malfoy it is.

The rest of the year is spent with Tom Riddle murdering Draco Malfoy and coming up with some excuse for his disappearance. The chamber isn't opened as Hermione reminds Tom that this would make it entirely too obvious who is behind this. Instead, Tom likely has Draco partake in increasingly erratic schemes to humiliate Harry Potter that end up endangering himself.

Near the end of school, Draco disappears into the Forbidden Forest to find acromantulas to put in Potter's bed and... never comes back.

A huge search is put on, Draco Malfoy is never found, and the acromantula infestation in the forest is now actively battled by ministry employees. Dumbledore is sacked as headmaster, Hagrid fired for having been responsible for the acromantulas in the first place, and Hogwarts is closed the following year.

Hermione is... conflicted about all of this. She certainly didn't mean to fire Hagrid (had no idea he was even remotely involved with the acromantulas) and certainly not Dumbledore. It wasn't Dumbledore's fault at all.

Tom, who is now a free man but has no idea what to do with himself, meets up with Hermione and points out that Dumbledore should have been sacked ages ago: he let kids get away with this stupidly dangerous shit and the year before actively endangered his students and lured a dark wizard into the castle. As for Hagrid, he raised a dragon illegally on school grounds, did release his pet acromantula into the wild, and more. They were terrible at their jobs.

Hermione, ever so reluctantly, agrees.

It's too bad though, Hagrid was very nice and Dumbledore's a great wizard (don't even get Tom started).

As for Tom, well, he had such dreams. Of course he planned to either meet up with his glorious self or (upon learning that Voldemort was blown up by a toddler) take the mantle of Voldemort for himself. But now that he's out, he has no idea where to start. Murder Harry Potter, certainly, but after that?

Tom only has the vaguest idea of who the original Death Eaters were, and they seem to have effectively scattered. More, how does he go about this? Sure, Tom had ideas when he was in school, but they were just ideas. He's never led a revolution before, has no idea how to impersonate an older, more knowledgeable, version of himself. He barely understands the political climate in this new, post-Voldemort, Britain.

Tom keeps hanging around Hermione because, well, inertia. He has no idea what else to do. (Hermione, while still torn over the consequences of her actions as well as the distant thought that she enabled murder, is quite delighted to have him around).

Tom tries to wheedle Harry's address out of Hermione and gets a lot more information than he bargained for. Harry lives with abusive muggle relatives, Dumbledore is apparently keeping him there, all of this sounds bizarre. Tom is officially weirded out.

Still wants to murder Harry, of course, but also wants to dig into this a little further...

And before this becomes a full on fic outline, eventually this will lead to the murder of Dumbledore, probably the murder of Ron when Ron inadvertently discovers 'the truth', Hermione telling Tom they're now an item, Tom trying to escape the relationship, only to learn there's no escaping Hermione.

Hermione becomes the next dark lord. Tom has no idea how this even happened.

[lubdubsworld]

物の哀れ ~ ( the sadness of things )

( Note : This is just a personal post for myself. I’m trying to just make a record of how the fic was conceived and all that I experienced, writing this fic ) 

Inspiration :

So, I ran into an article on Japanese words and I was incredibly fascinated by the phrase , Mono no aware or the pathos of things : Basically the sadness of things. It was a very unusual concept to me because it could be interpreted in so many ways. 

A little bit of digging around made me realize that some people linked it to the cherry blossom season where the flowers come into full bloom and add such a delicate beauty to the landscape. But of course, being seasonal, the beauty lasts for a very small time. The flowers die and their life ends . 

its fleeting and passes by quite soon.  So the sadness of things is basically how, the fact that something is fleeting or seasonal or about to end, should not take away from our enjoyment of things. Because yes the cherry blossoms die but people still flock to watch the cherry blossoms. 

The phrase came to me at a very troubled time in my life. 

My mother’s sister passed and she had raised me for a few years. I loved her deeply and she was only a couple of years older than my mother. Death was a thing that I had always viewed in abstract. The loss of a loved one was not something I had experienced on a very personal level, so it shook me.

 And of course, being the person I am , I did what I always do when I get overwhelmed : Research. 

I combed through reddit forums on grief, through blogs written by people who had lost loved ones , through blogs by psychotherapists, through online websites offering grief counselling and everything I could think of.

What fascinated me were two things :

 1. ) The non linear nature of healing ~ the stages of grief is a myth. Nobody goes through stages of emotional turmoil and then magically becomes better. 

By the way the whole stages of grief was formulated with reference to a terminally ill person coming to terms with their own death .

 So, it couldn’t really be applied to people dealing with the loss of a loved one. At least not directly.

And the second, one, 

2.) The very personal nature of grief ~ depending on how the relationship with the lost one is, grief varies. I realized then that only someone who had lost a loved one would know what its like. No one else could ever possibly understand the grief and pain that comes from loss.

As Heejin says in the sadness of things,” I would never know what his loss was like, because I would never know what he lost.” 

 It gave me a whole new perspective on how grief at the end of the day has to be a personal journey of healing , one that no one else can help you through. You need to live and hurt through every excruciating second of it. 

 There’s still so much I want to say about this but I’ll stop here. I’ll probably add to this as days go by. But yes, this wasn’t a fic that i wrote on a whim. It was something of a research project for me. An exploration of grief and healing. 

Thank you for joining me in this journey. It was definitely one of the most fulfilling ones I’ve ever had. 

  The Story :~

You can read it here :

⋆⋆✵ 物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)  ✵⋆⋆

Chapter 1  ⋆  Chapter 2  ⋆  Chapter 3  ⋆  Chapter 4  ⋆  Chapter 5  ⋆

Chapter 6  ⋆ Chapter 7   ⋆  Chapter 8.  ⋆ Chapter 9.    Chapter 10.

Extra Drabble

Completed.

Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

ABO Dynamics.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts.

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The characters :

Oh, boy. 

 I could go on about these two for years. 

 Jungkook and Heejin. 

Let me start with Jungkook : 

Jungkook in the fic came to me as a very troubled young man. In the fic he starts off as a very depressed young man. The opening scene of him staring listlessly into a bowl of cereal while his friends talk to him and Heejin just watches if from my own experience with depression in 2017. 

I would be numb in my body and mind with no idea what was going on around me and it seemed like everyone made all the choices for me while i just flowed along. It was a battle getting up in the morning. I had nothing to look forward to. Nothing to hope for. 

So Jungkook , depressed and confused and reeling from loss is our hero. 

Our main man. 

The one I wanted you guys to root for. 

The one I wanted you guys to see yourself in, in those moments when your pain and trauma changes you. 

When you’ve always been a soft spoken, kind hearted person but suddenly the pain overwhelms you and you just want to scream the place down. You want to hurt and hurt and hurt because you’re hurting and you don’t know how to process it. 

Jungkook’s journey is fraught with pain, endured and inflicted . He loses himself and his identity. 

He’s a CEO, a father and a husband and he can’t be any of those things, because of his grief. So there it was the three things I wanted him to find and love and enjoy by the end of the fic  :

His career doing something he loves :

Fatherhood raising the daughter he was blessed with : our lovely mina who I modeled on my own daughter ( and loved just as much ) 

and finally,

 A Love that was unconditional and beautiful. That maybe new and different from what he had lost in his wife but just as, if not more fulfilling. 

And so I stumbled into the woman who forever changed the way I perceived myself : Lee Heejin. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Writing Heejin in this fic is so cathartic for me.

For years, I’ve been her. The voice of reason, the one to compromise. I would be the one every single person in the family would call , anytime anything went wrong.

Kind. Smart. She’ll know what to do.  She’ll never say no. She’s always laughing. So witty. She’s so funny.

The phrases just blur in my head. I’ve been this emotional punching bag for people for so long. I had a very abusive father and honestly no one was there to listen to me talk about him. If i tried, they would always ask me  what I did to make him behave that way.

So , if you think Heejin is a pushover, that she’s giving too much of herself to people who don’t deserve.....just know that sometimes, saying no and standing your ground is a privilege not everyone can afford. And because I’d been there i understood her.

That isn’t all she is though. She is also someone who  knows that she doesn’t deserve to be treated that way. At no point in the fic does Heejin see Jungkook’s actions as anything other than the abuse it is and for that i will always be proud of her. 

Heejin’s healing is much more complicated. She isn’t really healed at the end of the fic...because to be honest , I’m not healed and I don’t know what its like to be ....But she is on the path to it, and that’s what matters. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

[redrobin-detective]

Starlit Vigil

Dannymay Day 4: Stars _____________________________

Everything has a story to it, a tale interwoven into it’s very being from it’s birth to it’s death. Sometimes the mystery of the story is as much a story in and of itself. 

Scientists and researchers can’t say when the constellation first appeared in the night sky. It could be seen above Antarctica, near where the edge of the continent meets the Indian Ocean. It confounded a great many people as stars simply didn’t appear out of nowhere. But these did, slowly over the course of several decades sometimes years apart but two appeared within hours of each other. Each new star, eight in total, had a glistening, almost unnatural twinkle to them. The constellation was named Mnemosyne after the Grecian goddess of memory and the stars eight of her nine daughters, better known as the Muses. 

You’ve always had your eyes turned towards the stars and Mnemosyne in particular had always captured your attention. You can’t really explain what it is about those stars that speak to you. Maybe it’s sheer impossibility of their existence. Perhaps it’s the particular beauty of these stars, sometimes appearing to shift in shape and change colors. Or it could be the story behind the stars, the mystery that couldn’t be solved and so imagination filled in the holes left behind.

They say there was a great king, hundreds of years ago. A king who was powerful and kind and helped create the world as we know it. The land of the dead exists and certain people can interact with those beyond it. Technology and understanding have advanced dramatically and, while no life would ever be perfect, there was a general sense of peace that could felt in this world and the next. This king loved our world so much it’s said he plucked the greatest jewels he could find and placed them in the stars where he could watch over and cherish them forever. It’s a sentiment you can understand. 

You study astronomy in school and when you’re given a chance to travel to the Antarctic Circle to study Mnemosyne, you can’t say yes fast enough. The bitter cold and isolation is a small price to pay to see your favorite constellation up close. Maybe when you see it with your own eyes, you can unravel some of the questions people have been asking over the years. Why the goddess of Memory? Why are the stars named after the Muses but missing the muse of astronomy, Urania? What is the true story behind the supernaturally bright stars that appeared out of nowhere?

It’s hard to sleep during the day, partially because it goes against your normal circadian rhythm but you’re also too excited for night to come. For the stars to come out. You bundle up in the warmest clothes, pack your cameras and notebooks and throw the highest quality telescope you can carry over your shoulder. Arriving at the best site for star gazing, you are so delighted by the clear skies and sparkling stars that it takes you an extra moment to realize that you’re not alone.

At first, you think it’s one of the many researchers conducting studies at the pole but it’s soon apparent that this is someone new. Their hair is stark white, almost appearing one with the blustering wind as it’s blown around. You can’t see what they’re wearing because a thick white cape covers them entirely; it has the consistency of freshly fallen snow. Atop their head floats a crown made of pure, crystalline ice. Your eyes widen behind your protective goggles. The existence of ghosts was common knowledge by now but it’s another thing to see one up close. You turn to leave, before the spirit notices you.

“Don’t leave,” he says quietly but despite the roaring of the wind, you can hear him perfectly clear. “You came to watch the stars too, I don’t mind. Mnemosyne is my favorite.”

“Mine too,” you say back without even thinking. “I would love to know their stories.” The ghost turns to smile at you and his eyes are a bright, glowing green without any pupils or sclera. 

“Come, I’ll tell you about them.” You know you shouldn’t. While most spirits aren’t malicious, this one exudes a power you can’t even imagine. But you find yourself stepping closer anyway. You want to hear the stories of the stars and his smile is the warmest thing you’ll find for miles. Somehow you know this ghost won’t harm you. He points up at Mnemosyne and your twin gazes stare up in wonder. 

“They say souls and stars are made of the same ingredients. When I was a boy, I loved this thought. There was something comforting in knowing that, no matter where I went, that I could carry the stars within me,” the ghost explains, looking at you joyfully. 

“But unlike stars, souls are mortal, impermanent,” he says, his smile turning sad. “So I thought, why not put a soul into a star? Then it could last for eons.” He turns back to the stars with a melancholic expression. “Danielle was the first, my little sister. She was always fragile and after only a decade of life, one day she just broke. Her core was too damaged to become a full ghost so I offered her another way to live on. I took the brightness of her smile and made it into a star, into Euterpe. She was the muse of lyrics and poetry, they say she was the ‘bringer of delight’. It suited Danielle.”

“My enemy died next,” the ghost continues. “He hurt me and, moreover, hurt the ones I loved. But he was the only one who truly understood me. His existence comforted me no matter how much bad blood existed between us. His life was full of misfortune, most of it self-inflicted but his fear of death pulled on my heart. My last move in our battle was to make him a star as well, Melpomene, the muse of tragedy. I put him far away from Danielle, I think he’d hurt her.”

“My parents passed a few decades later,” the ghost whispers. “Mom went first, in her sleep. Dad always followed her example so it wasn’t a surprise when Dad followed her in death before the day was done. They were scientists, I think but they loved me very much. Things were tense, I remember being afraid for some reason but their deaths pained me. They were too fulfilled to become ghosts. I grabbed bits of their essence before it dissipated and made the stars Polyhymnia and Terpsichore, the muses of hymns and dance respectively. They were a perfect couple, partners in everything. A song and a dance, always in time with each other.”

The wind rustles the ghost’s cape, he clutches it as if he is cold. You cannot tear your eyes from the the soft grief on his face. 

“Valerie went next, some sort of illness; I can’t remember the details,” the ghost frowned. “She had no desire to become a ghost, no matter how much I asked her to stay. I am King of All Ghosts and yet I got on my knees and begged for some part of her to keep with me. In the end, I stole a bit of her fading spirit and crafted Calliope, the assertive muse, the author of epic poetry. She shines so brightly up there like she had in life.”

“Jasmine died peacefully in her sleep like our mother. She was always protecting me, even in death. Her devotion to knowledge and my wellbeing kept her by my side for many years but it wasn’t enough to last forever. When her spirit was nothing more than wisps, I took her core and placed Clio with the rest of our family. The muse of history, the proclaimer of great deeds fit my older sister well.”

“Tucker and Sam stayed with me the longest. Tucker went first, a quick death from an aged body followed by years as the playful spirit I always knew him as. Sam, my life and my love, passed the same and was my queen in death as she’d been in life. But love can delay death but not deny it and their spirits needed to move on. I kissed them both, my soulmates and made them into stars. Thalia, the muse of comedy and idyllic poems for the light Tucker brought to me. Erato for Sam, muse of love and its poetry for all that she inspired and gave me.”

You see glowing tears running down his face, he holds his hands out to the night sky. His fingers are curved as if wanting to reach and tenderly brush the faces of people long gone. Only they’re not gone completely. You look at the stars with a newfound appreciation. They are no longer pinpricks of long dead light but people who lived and died and yet still lived on in such beauty. If you look closely, you can almost see them. Brushes of red hair, dark rugged skin, the glint of glasses, a flash of amethyst eyes. 

“There’s no Urania,” you say quietly, the wind tossing them. 

“Not yet,” he says longingly, “but soon. The Zone and the Earth are at peace, they won’t need my protection for much longer. When that happens, my spirit will leave this world and join my loved ones in the stars as Urania.” This ghost has been dead for longer than you’ve been alive, longer than many of your most recent ancestors. But his love can still be felt, still burns high above in the sky for everyone to see. What better eternity is there?

“May I tell their story?” You ask and he only nods in response, not taking his eyes off Mnemosyne. You get the feeling he has forgotten about you, caught up in the light of his loved ones shining down on him, waiting. All at once, you realize how late it is, how cold. You leave to return to the research shelter, to write the history of the miracle constellation. 

The stars made out of souls, crafted by love.

Twelve years later, you are not surprised when you look up and see a ninth star in the constellation of Mnemosyne. It glows brightly, twinkling with the other muses as if in conversation. You can only smile through your tears, so profoundly happy that Urania’s lonely vigil is finally over and they have assumed their rightful place among the stars. 

[lokismusings]

Russell T Davies on straight actors and gay characters.

I decided to put this here because I post a lot of Hilson stuff. As an actor, this article hit a nerve. However, as a defender of free speech, Davies is allowed to have his opinion without me thinking of him as insensitive. Just like I am allowed to have my own opinion and argument, and ask questions without being labeled “homophobic, intolerant” etc. (that would just make me laugh because have you SEEN my blog? Anyway, I’ve seen a few other websites covering this article. I am also very skeptical of everything I read, including the sources, and I try not to blindly believe everything. That being said, I felt like posting this to get other opinions and ask honest question to help my understanding. If this has already been covered on Tumblr, please feel free to send me the conversations! Some background on me: I graduated with a BA in Theatre and have worked both on and off the stage since I was twelve years old. I have directed plays and an audio play. Given my experience and dedication to my craft, I think my opinion is worth something.

Also, for the sake of this argument, I am leaving trans-actors out because that’s a whole different post. Here is the article:

https://news.sky.com/story/russell-t-davies-straight-actors-should-not-play-gay-characters-12185652

Okay, so first things first, let’s talk about this: “Speaking to the Radio Times, Davies compared a straight actor playing a gay character to black face.” Something that irks me is when one person tries to speak for a whole community and doesn’t reference people from said community who might disagree: whether it’s the LGBTQ+ community, a religious community, medical community, etc. The list goes on. Here, Davies is speaking on behalf of, or speaking for, both the LGBTQ+ community and the black community, is he not? I am genuinely asking because I would like to be more educated on this kind of speech. 

Then Davies says, "I'm not being woke about this... but I feel strongly that if I cast someone in a story, I am casting them to act as a lover, or an enemy, or someone on drugs or a criminal or a saint... they are NOT there to 'act gay' because 'acting gay' is a bunch of codes for a performance.” Does that not discredit his whole statement? If any actor does a caricature version of anything and doesn’t take it seriously or really works to get into the role and the mindset of a character, they’re not a good actor. At least, they’re not an actor that I’d want to hire. Second, by the logic that a straight person shouldn’t play a gay character, should someone without a criminal record not be able to play a criminal character? Before you go off and say “it’s about identity and sexuality, and playing a criminal is about the choice to break the law” or other arguments, I hear you. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the experience. How can an actor who has never committed a crime play a criminal character authentically? They do their research: reading, interviewing, etc. I’m not saying that an actor with a few minor marks on his record shouldn’t be considered for the same role. I’m saying that in an audition setting, if both of these actors were auditing for the role and the non-criminal-record actor just happened to do a better job and fit what the director and/or writer wanted, is that a mark against the criminal-record-actor? Maybe personally because we don’t know what the director is thinking. But chances are, it’s not a mark against the other actor. The other one just happened to have a better audition. Or, a major factor when considering casting, said actor was easy to work with--I’ve seen a lot of talented actors lose a lot of roles because of their inability to take criticism or notes. 

Plus, the whole “Breaking Bad” series?? I highly doubt the main actors were meth-making drug-lords. Or, a better example, “The Wire?” In that show, we see the constant battle and deals between drug-lords and cops. 

Another point I’d like to make:  “...is a bunch of codes for a performance.” That’s exactly right. The audience doesn’t want to know an actor is “performing.” We know that going in, with what is called “suspension of disbelief.” We know the whole show is a performance, but we also expect the actors to be truthful (unless it’s a comedy/farce, but again, that’s a different argument). 

Was it bad that, before 2020, some main characters in TV shows were portrayed as straight but the writers ended up “queer-baiting?” I am referring, of course, to House, M.D. (If you follow this blog, you’ll understand.) But I am also referring to the BBC Sherlock Holmes series. Yes, both pairs of characters (House and Wilson; Holmes and Watson) are assumed to be straight. However, some episodes allude that there could also be something more there. Even the actors have said in various interviews that they aren’t sure if it’s a true romance that the characters are afraid to face, or just a strong bond between best friends that blurs the line between platonic and romantic. I’m paraphrasing, but you get the picture. Therefore, should these characters have only been played by straight actors who are questioning their sexuality or feelings for a best friend? Would it have been disrespectful to gay people if these characters ended up becoming romantically involved? (If we ask the Hilson and Johnlock community, I’m guessing that’s a resounding “NO WAY! IT WOULD BE A DREAM COME TRUE!” xD <3) 

“It's about authenticity, the taste of 2020.” *Cinema Sins sigh*

"You wouldn't cast someone able-bodied and put them in a wheelchair...” Again I say, directors and casting directors need to ALWAYS search for someone who is in a wheelchair, or deaf, or HOH, etc. before looking for an able-bodied actor to play a character with that disability (I’m iffy on the whole term “disability because of its negative connotations, but I’m using that word in order to keep this post as long as possible). But I give you the example of Rainman with Dustin Hoffman. Or A Beautiful Mind with Russell Crowe. Or the play and movie Proof, where the father had a mental illness?  Anthony Hopkins was diagnosed late in life with Asperger’s Syndrome, but the father in Proof was written to allude more to schizophrenia. And yet, Anthony Hopkins did a tremendous job in that role. Or Even Forrest Gump with Tom Hanks. Many people today love Tom Hanks and laud him as a “woke” celebrity. But if he were to portray the role of Forrest Gump today, how many people would try to “cancel” him or at least have very strong words for the director not casting an actor with autism, due to the character’s autistic tendencies? A whole lot of people on the internet and Twitter, I’ll bet. As someone who struggles with anxiety and panic disorder, would I be upset if someone without that mental illness got cast in a role of a character struggling with that? Sure I would. But if they did an authentic job and approached the role respectfully, it would be hard to stay irritated. Besides, there are always more roles created practically everyday. 

To continue on with Davies’ quote: “...you wouldn't black someone up.” Yikes. I’m sure he didn’t mean this in a cast-off kind of way, but that’s how it comes across. I can see now why he said he wasn’t “being woke about this,” because a more “woke” way of putting that would be...what, exactly? “You wouldn’t cast a non-black person in a black role.” That sounds better and less harsh. Or even “a white person in a minority role.” Which should be common sense, and I agree with both statements. 

And then “Authenticity is leading us to joyous places." Oh! Look at that! There’s that word that I’ve been using and emphasizing throughout this whole post! Authenticity is one major brick in the foundation of good, credible acting. 

“High-profile examples of straight performers playing LGBTQ+ characters include Rami Malek's Oscar-winning portrayal of Freddie Mercury in Bohemian Rhapsody, and Taron Egerton's Golden Globe-winning turn as Sir Elton John in Rocketman.”

I haven’t seen Rocketman, but I saw Bohemian Rhapsody and it was great! Why am I high-lighting this movie? Because it’s the perfect example of a straight actor playing a gay character and playing it authentically, while also looking a lot like the real person they’re portraying. If a look-a-like had been cast who also happened to be gay, but couldn’t act to save their life or couldn’t bring as much as Rami brought to the role, wouldn’t that kind of put a damper on the film? And yet, Rami Maleck both looked the part and brought an authenticity to the role that many Queen fans loved and appreciated. Even the remaining Queen band members said that he did an incredible job and Freddy would be proud. I wonder if Freddy would care that Rami wasn’t gay? I doubt it, but no one can know for certain. 

Then there’s the whole term “gay face.” I personally don’t think this is the right term to use because it could possibly diminish the whole meaning and importance of “black face.” Even if Corden appeared to be mocking gay people (I never watched The Prom so I have no idea what his performance was like), calling it “gay face” takes away from and inadvertently belittles the whole dark history of “black face.” Black face’s whole history comes out of an even darker history of racist times filled with hatred and ignorance. I’m not saying that gay people haven’t had their own experiences with hate and intolerance, but isn’t kind of “un-woke” and “insensitive” to compare the hundreds of years of blatant, public racism against an entire race of people to the intolerance of homosexuals? (Again, I’m asking this genuinely because I want to learn and get other people’s opinions. I’m not trying to speak for any community, and I recognize that my personal opinion on this matter is just that: my opinion. And I could be better informed.)

Along the lines of the above paragraph, is it wrong to say or think that casting a non-minority actor in a minority role is a lot different from casting a straight actor in a gay role? Sexuality comes in all shapes, sizes, and colors; that is to say, every race has people with different sexualities. But I think it would be pretty cringe if a Caucasian actress was cast in a role meant for an Asian or African-American woman. 

Director Joe Mantello told Sky News the casting was not intentional, but rather a "very fortunate series of events".

He continued: "That being said, I think having an out gay cast really did inform the work and it took on a particular kind of tone because of that, which is not to say that's the only way to approach this material. But for this particular group, it did something that I think is very, very special. There's a chemistry that they have."

And this man summed up my entire argument! He also put into simpler terms what I have been trying to express about the beauty of theatre: there will always be special casts, especially when there’s a great chemistry from a shared experience. A "very fortunate series of events,” indeed. “The casting was not intentional...” leads me to believe that the director didn’t set out to have an all out-gay-cast, but rather, each actor brought great performances to their auditions and were considered by the director to be perfect for the roles. These actors also just happened to be gay.

If you’re still here after all of that, let me take a moment to sincerely thank you for reading the whole thing! I know it’s a lot, but I’m very passionate about acting and giving each and every actor a fair chance. Let me know what you think, and please be respectful!

[dreaming-in-alicante]

First chapter is up!

I have 5 more chapters planned out. It’ll depend on how much work I have with the end of the semester, but I hope to update weekly!

Chapter 1: A research opportunity

   _________________________________________________________

A month ago, Grace had sat shell-shocked in the Institute infirmary in the aftermath of the battle, attempting to process the bloodshed she had witnessed and the fact that Tatiana was dead. Jesse, busy talking to Lucie and her parents, making funeral arrangements, had left Grace alone for a while. It was Christopher Lightwood of all people who had noticed her sitting there frozen, who had walked over and offered an awkward pat on the shoulder. He expressed his sympathies and then, seemingly at a loss for a way to help her feel better, told Grace that she was welcome to come visit the lab at any time if she would like something to do to take her mind off of the circumstances. “You were a great help in figuring the function of the pithos that time,” he’d said before wandering off.

Of course that had been before. Before word of her confession had gotten out. Before her trial by Mortal Sword three weeks ago. The Consul had let Grace off without punishment because she was underage and influenced – manipulated – by her mother. No, not mother, Tatiana. You were never a daughter to her, Grace reminded herself. She bought you, you were only ever a weapon that she wielded.

Now that Tatiana was gone and Jesse was restored to life, Grace found herself adrift. Word spread quickly amongst the Clave about what she’d done: the misery she had inflicted on James and by extension Cordelia; her use of demon-gifted power to influence and seduce numerous men – including the Consul’s own son; her involvement in necromancy. She knew plenty of Shadowhunters would happily see her spend time imprisoned in the Silent City. She had made so many apologies that she had quite lost track, but it was not enough – might never be enough. She was still technically part of the Clave, yet no one seemed to know what to do with her. She was even invited to a party last week where everyone had given her a wide berth; a perfect example of how she remained part of things, but was held at a distance.

Grace had spent weeks alone in the apartment Jesse had found for them, reading like she had always done. Now that Jesse was not a ghost, he was no longer her constant companion. He was alive again, out making friends and experiencing the world anew. He had started training and was visiting all the sights of London with Lucie. It was everything Grace had wished for him for years, except now she found herself even lonelier than before. Jesse had invited her along to everything but it was awkward to be around even Lucie.  Despite their shared mission to restore Jesse to life and her newfound relationship with Jesse, Lucie was struggling to forgive Grace for her part in James and Cordelia’s suffering. After all, it was Lucie’s own brother and her future parabatai that Grace had hurt. So Grace continued a nearly isolated existence, most days only seeing Jesse briefly in the morning and evenings.

It was the boredom and loneliness that had finally driven Grace to make a call on the Consul’s house at Grosvenor Square. She had overheard Lucie telling Jesse that Christopher was hard at work on something and spending nearly every weekday in the lab there. Surely Christopher should despise Grace after the way she had hurt his friends. Yet he had offered a small wave and smile at the party several days ago when they passed each other near the refreshments. His small gesture and her desperate state had been enough for her to gather her courage and venture out today.

   ________________________________________________________

 Grace stifled a sneeze as she descended the steps into the laboratory. A smoky haze hung in the air and it smelled like… gunpowder? What on earth had Christopher been doing? She paused uncertainly and nearly turned in retreat before steeling her nerve and continuing down.

Grace reached the bottom of the stairs and peered around the lab. “Christopher?” she called tentatively. “Are you working down here?”

A messy head of brown hair, darkened by – was it gunpowder? – shot up from behind the lab bench on the far side of the room. Christopher pushed rounded goggles up onto his head as he strode over to her.  “Grace! How nice to see you again!” he greeted her. His skin and once-white shirt were also covered in a fine layer of dark dust. “I suppose I saw you a few days ago at the party but you weren’t there long were you? Jesse said you weren’t feeling well. I heard there was a cold going around, is that what you had? Are you feeling better now?” he asked kindly.

Grace hadn’t felt well at the party, but it had nothing to do with illness and everything to do with the fact that Jesse was the single truly friendly face in that enormous ballroom. Lucie had awkwardly engaged her in stilted conversation before being whisked off to the dance floor by Jesse. After half an hour hovering on the outskirts of the room Grace could simply not endure the suspicious glances from the other guests, and she fled back home. “No, I wasn’t feeling well, but I feel much better now,” she told him simply.

“That’s good to hear!” Christopher said earnestly. “It’s never fun being sick. I detest the medicine my mother makes me take for coughs. That’s actually a project I’d like to pursue at some point, to see if medicine can be flavored but still retain its potency. I think if one could take some fruit, for example, and isolate the components of the fruit – molecules they’re called – that cause the specific taste and – ” he cut himself off abruptly. “My apologies Grace, you obviously came here for a reason and here I am boring you. Did you need help with something?” he asked, looking at her expectantly.

Grace thought she could cry for the sense of normalcy in the conversation and the kindness in his gaze. It was the complete opposite of the stiff, clipped exchanges and distrustful stares she had received since her trial by the Mortal Sword. Jesse was there for support of course, but he also faced distrust – returning from the dead through necromancy tended to make people wary. So to have Christopher – one of the ‘Merry Thieves’ no less – act like nothing at all was wrong, it was a relief.

She would have told Christopher to keep talking about the cough medicine and molecules – the idea sounded quite fascinating – but he had asked her a question. “I…I came to take you up on your offer to help in the laboratory. That is, if you’re sure you still want my help” she said hesitantly, clasping her hands together. “I know you offered weeks ago and I understand if you would prefer me to stay away now that you’ve heard the full story of everything I’ve done…” she trailed off uncertainly.

Christopher blinked at her for a moment, seemingly in shock, before his face split in a wide grin. “Really? You’d like to work here in the lab? No one besides Henry has ever been interested!” He paused thoughtfully, adjusting his glasses. “Well, Thomas does often help but I believe he feels obligated as my cousin. It’s not that he has any deep fascination with science and invention. Although he did make the cure for the Mandikhor poison! But I don’t think he enjoyed the process.” He frowned. “I suppose solving the puzzle of a complicated antidote is much more stressful when people are about to die,” he concluded.

“So, you’re sure you would still like having me around?” Grace asked, tense. “After the pain I caused your friends, I understand if you don’t want my assistance.”

“Of course I’d like you to help!” Christopher replied excitedly. “Having another pair of hands is always useful, and you actually want to be here! As for everything with James and such,” he said seriously, “you apologized didn’t you? And I’m sure you won’t do it again if you feel so badly about it now.”

Grace was astounded. “I did apologize and no, I don’t plan to manipulate anyone in that way again,” she managed to say. “I couldn’t even if I wished to,” she added, “the Silent Brothers found a way to remove my power.” That ritual, performed two weeks by Broth Enoch, had made her ill. She spent the better part of a day asleep, and still felt exhausted the day afterward.

“Then it’s all settled!” Christopher proclaimed brightly. “Let’s see, there’s a space on the benchtop over here where you can work, I have some of my notes there now but I can clean those up, put them over with…” He scurried over to a bench on the left of the room and began tidying it, muttering to himself.

Grace followed slowly after him, still in some disbelief. Yes, she had traveled all the way over to the lab and hoped his offer to join him in the lab still stood. However, she had prepared herself to be brushed off. Had expected Christopher to distrust her now that he knew all of her questionable actions, the ways she had hurt his friends and cousins. Technically she also was, or had been, his cousin by adoption; for some reason she brushed the thought of it away. They weren’t actually related. Especially now that she had reclaimed the Cartwright surname, distancing herself from Tatiana.

“There!” Christopher announced, pulling Grace out of her thoughts. He had cleared the bench of papers and bottles and beakers, and brushed off a layer of dust. “This can be your work station,” he told her. “I’ll find you a notebook to record your findings in, and you can work with me on some projects! Or do you have any ideas or projects of your own you’d like to pursue?” he inquired.

“I read many books growing up, many containing scientific information, so I know some basic principles,” Grace said. “However, I fear that much of the information is decades out of , and I'm sure there are many advancements I have not learned of,” she confessed. “Perhaps you can tell me what you’re working on? Were you doing some experiment involving gun powder just now?”

“Indeed I was!” Christopher replied with a gleam in his eye. “For a years now I’ve been trying to adapt incendiary weapons for use against demons. Angelic runes prevent the gunpowder from igniting somehow, and unless runes are involved the demons can’t be harmed.” He gestured her over to the far side of the room where a couple of guns laid on the table, one partly disassembled, as well as a small grenade.

“You made the runed revolver for James, didn’t you?” she asked, trailing a finger over the rune inscribed on the barrel of the rifle laid out on the bench.

“I did,” Christopher replied. “The problem is, James is the only one who can use it. Something to do with his shadow powers. Even Lucie can’t make it work. Quite confounding.” He held up a very familiar object – the pithos that Belial had used to steal marks. “I’ve been testing different rune placements with this,” he said, “because I thought perhaps an indirect application would make a difference. I’ve tried inscribing inside and outside on different parts. I also have a collection of gunpowder that I put in this runed box.” He gestured with the pithos to a small cubic container, every side plastered with a variety of runes. “The gun still fires – that’s what I was testing before you came in. No telling whether it will have any effect on a demon though,” he said, “It depends on how the runes transfer energy, which is an area no one fully understands yet.” He paused uncertainly, and set the pithos back on the benchtop. “I know you said you’d like to learn, Grace, but I’m not boring you am I?” he asked, sounding troubled.

“No, not at all,” she said quickly, turning her attention away from the disassembled handgun she’d been inspecting to his face. “Truly, it’s fascinating. I enjoy learning and you do a wonderful job of explaining things.”

“Oh,” said Christopher, turning faintly pink at the compliment. “Well, jolly good then. Besides Henry, people never really want to hear details,” he confided.

Grace thought briefly that perhaps Tatiana had been right when she called the Clave a pack of fools. Was there genuinely no one besides Henry Fairchild who appreciated the extent of Christopher’s scientific work? Not even his friends? “How about this?” she said, turning fully to face him. “I promise that if I ever want you to stop talking I’ll tell you directly, but otherwise, I wish to hear every detail. Here, we can shake on it.” She extended her hand between them and asked, “Deal?”

Christopher looked bewildered for a moment, blinked, then took her hand and shook it. His strange violet eyes shone as they met hers and he said, “Deal.”

[shirophantomvox]

Lotor's Nanny

Hello y’all! I am back yet again with another Voltron short fiction! I got this prompt from @vld-prompts and this one is great! Some dialogue in this are mixed quotes from the show. The prompt is: “Dayak comes to Galra HQ unexpectedly.” The link shows the reference I used in this story. Its somewhat the same, I changed some elements and dialogue. I mentioned the Code of Ethics because some companies do not allow in-dating. That means you cannot date one of your coworkers. This story has been on my mind for a while and it came out better than I expected! I hope you all like it. Be sure to follow me for more writing content!

Team Voltron slowly walked across the bridge of Galra HQ formerly known as Zarkon’s ship. Chills ran down their spines as they approached the now Emperor Lotor and his staff. Right above them were tapestries filled with light purple, white, and yellow; the same colors the paladins of old had. The expression on Lotor’s face was the complete opposite of his new comrades. The paladins had been through enough; their lives could end at this very moment and to think they blindly walked into Galra HQ? Thank God, Lotor didn’t have any tricks up his sleeve...or did he?

Lotor approached the Paladins with open arms aimed at Princess Allura; hoping she’d give him a hug and not leave him looking like a fool. Reluctantly, she embraced him softly, barely placing her arms fully around his back. That was good enough, for now. She backed up quite smoothly, lifted her head, and looked at the tapestries that hung above her head. They all gasped and at the beauty and detail of them. The yellow had thin lines of dark yellow as the outline. They glistened in the spotlights because of the white glitter that was in its place. Lotor smiled large, folded his arms, and lifted his head. This was his time to shine and he was ready to do so.

“The colors you see before you are the same ones that our fathers used while battling. These colors represent friendship, leadership, and an emphasis on an unbreakable bond. Although the unbreakable bond didn’t workout well the first time, I’m certain it will now.”

Lotor’s smile slowly faded as he glanced directly in between Allura and Shiro. “Lover Boy” Lance McClain came storming between the two, stood toe to toe with him, and pointed his lengthy index finger in his face.

“Lance, that’s rude! What are you doing?!” Allura’s tone wasn’t her usual sweet, calm reflection but instead more like an irritated mother. She had been used to Lance’s irrational fears but this was TOO FAR for her. She developed feelings for Lotor, she is one of the leaders of Voltron, and having him misbehave insulted her leadership skills.

“Don’t worry, princess. I just want to make sure he doesn’t have any tricks up his sleeve.”

Lotor arrogantly chuckled quietly to himself. Although Lance appeared to be the airhead surfer boy, he took his role as paladin and valued his team seriously. They had been ambushed several times by Zarkon, his father. They have every right to be paranoid even if Allura didn’t think so. One thing that irked the team was her sense of trustworthiness. She hated Lotor simply because he was truly a threat and was Zarkon’s son but once she found out he was half Altean, it appeared as if she did anything he said. She fell for him; hard and that isn’t always good.

“I assure you, I am not here to play games or have any “tricks up my sleeve”. Trust me, if I did, you would know about it already. I am more skilled than you. There’s no need to lie.”

“As much as I would love to believe you Lotor, the Galra aren’t the ones to ‘turn the other cheek’. They keep fighting and fighting until they die.” Hunk began to sweat a little as his nerves began to run amuck.

“Hunk has a point. Why all of a sudden are we teaming up with Zarkon’s son to fight against his own empire that your the head of? It doesn’t sound right.”

“If Pidge agrees with me, it must be a set up.” Lance turned around and allied himself with the rest of the team. They were not pleased at all. Could it be a possibility that they were being paranoid? Is it wrong that they haven’t given him a chance to prove himself? Lotor released an irritated sigh, closed his eyes, and opened them again.

“I assure you, I have nothing to hide.” He snapped his fingers and two robots came at his side quickly. “If you all don’t mind, we are going to HQ and we will have a chat about what our next steps are going to be.”

The centurions led the way to HQ. On the way there, it was quiet and awkward; the only ones that were talking were Allura and Lotor. He had a large binder open with pages and pages of scientific research that Honerva had been using to figure out information regarding the creatures from the rift. Both were so intrigued by the findings that they began to pick up speed next to the centurions, leaving the team a bit behind. Allura took hold of the binder to find something specifically related to Oriande relating to “life givers”. Lotor began to close the space between the two placing his arm around her waist and gently placing his hand around her thigh. Lance was about to blow his fuse! Pidge and Hunk reassured him that Allura has stated several times before that she is not interested in dating him. It would be unprofessional; Lotor and Allura were considered to be allies. If they dated they’d be violating the Code of Ethics...somewhere.

“If she wouldn’t be interested in dating him, why isn’t she throwing his arm off her?”

“Lance, I haven’t dated yet but I know something about girls.” She pushed her glasses closer to her face and pointed in the air. “Some girls just entertain the behavior in the moment so the guy doesn’t flip out. They also do it so the man’s ego won’t get hurt. Both reasons are stupid and unhealthy but that is why. I have no idea why a man’s ego is so easily destroyed just because a girl rejected his passes.”

“Good question. It makes the good guys look bad.” Hunk stuck his finger in the air and smiled. “I’ll always treat my woman like a queen!”

The team had finally reached HQ. Lotor suddenly became quiet and stood still. He squinted his eyes, frowned, and slowly moved away from them. Once he approached his subject, his eyes widened. There was a tall woman dressed in long black clothing, her head covered, with her back turned. She had two blue binders that said “memories” on the binding side and an old cloth blanket. The emperor face palmed himself quietly backing away instructing the team to leave HQ quickly without making a sound. As soon as the robots began to move, the woman turned around, gasped and yelled his name.

“Lotor!”

“Goodness gracious,” he replied quickly under his breath.

The woman came walking towards him with a smile of endearment. He could now see the front of the binders and nearly lost his mind. He blushed at the sight and glanced back at her. She laughed, assuring him that she was moving his belongings to another part of the ship.

“Oh, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Embarrassed about what?”

Lotor changed his expression and turned around. Still blushing, he managed to smile.

“This is Dayak, my governess. She raised me when I was a child, trained me, and helped me become the man I am today.”

“Barely,” Lance blurted out. He snapped his head and smiled oddly at Lotor. Lance was able to put two and two together and realized what he was embarrassed about.

“Wait, wait, wait. She raised you from a child? As in your nanny?!”

“Governess!” The emperor face palmed again, not able to look in Allura’s direction.

Why would ANYONE want their old photos to be shown to anyone they liked?!

“Oh boy, you had a nanny! Oh my goodness, I didn’t have one!”

“That’s why you're lacking in so many areas. Can’t you tell?” He began to flex his arm, showing the implied muscles through his shirt.

“That’s all you’ve got? At least mine are real!”

“Mine are too! You look like you’ve been using steroids!”

“Steroids? How do you know what those are? You’re an alien.”

“Ok, Lance, that’s enough. Dayak was going to speak,” Shiro said, somehow not irritated. Given the chaotic life he has, this was nothing but pure entertainment.

“Thank you. True enough I am this young emperor’s governess and I did far more than nanny duties. Lotor underwent intense training at the age of 6 years old. Many doubted his abilities but I knew he had it in him.”

“Thank you, Dayak.”

“Lotor, don’t hate me for this. Dayak, what are in the books that you are holding?” Hunk was generally curious and had no ill intent in asking unlike Lance. Still, Lotor was pained to see what was in those books. His style would have definitely been cramped.

“I’ll show you if it’s ok with the emperor.”

Lotor sighed heavily and threw his hand in the air.

“Yes, it's ok.”

Everyone gathered around his governess as she opened one of the books. The font read “Memorable Moments” and God knows what was in them. The team released a number of “awws”, “wows”, and “oohs” . Dayak, the nanny--governess, smiled as she turned each page remembering how cute the emperor looked in his formal clothing and how hot she looked when she was younger. This stage in his life would have happened matter what; Honerva would have done the same thing.

“This picture was taken after Lotor learned the Galran alphabet, vowel sounds, and numbers.”

“Wow! Lotor used to take a stuffed animal to class?” Hunk laughed. “Ha!”

“I was afraid, ok? I was all by myself.”

“And no one is shaming you for it buddy! Well, maybe Lance, but we aren’t.”

“This picture was taken during PE class. He loved to play buckets. I thought he was going to pursue somewhat of an athletic career!”

“I have to admit, he gets his muscles from Zarkon.”

“Aw. Thank you Princess.”

“That’s not a compliment dude.”

The emperor realized that the old photos of him weren’t so bad after all. They were milestones; it showed how well he has progressed and how he will continue. These were his allies after all. It was important for them to see him during his softer moments to know that they could talk to him about anything.

[shameless-fujoshi]

THIS POST IS FOR YOU, EVEN IF YOU DO NOT LIVE IN THE US.

Even if you’re not a US American, you need to urge your country’s leaders to keep vigilant of what’s happening right now in the US.

Please see the bottom of this post for my disclaimer.

This post was borne from a tweet that I saw:

Let me break it down by explaining the dark triad in psychology and how people with these dangerous traits think:

Narcissist: people who are unable to empathize with how their words or actions impact others. They may seem like they empathize at times, but that’s often in response to a fear that they’ll be incriminated and/or lose their narcissistic supply. Bottom line, their well-being, feelings, and opinions come first, and that is not up for debate in their minds. They have a fragile sense of self-worth and if they are exposed, they will fly into a rage to protect their ego, even at the detriment to people they claim to love. This trait can be standalone, but is also built into the next two traits that I’ll cover: machiavellians and psychopaths (sometimes synonymous with sociopaths). In reference to this tweet, they cannot be helped, except on the SUPER RARE occasion that they are willing to change (often at risk of losing their narcissistic supply).

Psychopath/Sociopath: in reference to the above tweet, people who don’t know the difference and volunteer for the insurrection, thinking they are actually protesting to save US democracy. They worship the machiavellian and hold unwavering loyalty to them, and are ready for battle, regardless of the circumstances. They will die for the lies the machiavellian tells because they think it will make the machiavellian love them more (it won’t) and they don’t have the capacity to empathize and recognize that they are doing harm to the very institution they claim to protect. They are pawns, and they are idiots, but nonetheless, they are dangerous, and still need to be held accountable for any ill-intent and destructive actions.

Machiavellian: in reference to the above tweet, people who know the difference, encourage the insurrection (because it benefits them), and they don’t care about what happens to anyone they throw under the bus. They don’t participate directly in an attempt to keep their hands clean, and it is not easy to find evidence against them. They are terrifying chess masters that play the long con and must be exposed to keep our democracy safe, because to them, chaos means an opportunity to rally psychopaths/sociopaths to help bring them to power. They believe there is no one more fit to run the country than themselves, and they believe their rule and law is the only way and will stop it nothing to impose that rule on other countries if the opportunity becomes available. They are the ones to to target to dismantle a fascist uprising, but it is no easy task.

Why should other countries take this seriously? ​There are literal dictators already in power that could band together to try to destroy your democracy. For example, Putin most likely knows that if he can get the US to fall to fascism, he’ll have enough weapons on his side to start a takeover of other democratic nations.

For more information, especially when it comes to definitions and vocabulary, check out Dr. Ramani Durvasula. She is a vocal expert on narcissism and personality disorders. She has put out an extensive collection of videos on YouTube to help people navigate, understand, and heal from narcissistic abuse. You can also visit her website here.

I also suggest the book “The Sociopath Next Door” by Dr. Martha Stout. I read this back in college for a story I was writing, and it opened my eyes to how widespread this actually is. I also just found out she released a follow-up book in 2020 called: “Outsmarting the Sociopath Next Door” and I plan on reading that one as well.

For information on fascism, a great place to start is the book “On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century” by Timothy Snyder, professor of History at Yale, specializing in history of Central & Eastern Europe and the Holocaust.

While discussions about the dark triad have been occurring for a long time, the term was popularized by an article published in 2002 by Paulhus and Williams: The Dark Triad of Personality: Narcissism, Machiavellianism, and Psychopathy. I linked the article for reference.

Also adding a link to the Beer Hall Putsch, the failed coup that put Hitler in prison and gave him the time to write Mein Kampf and grow his following. Honestly, Trump has already put equivalent poison to Mein Kampf out there, and even if he is impeached again and barred from holding office, an equally poisonous individual such as Josh Hawley could step in (there’s already speculation about him running in 2024) to continue the damage to democracy. Unless Republicans do something to stop this fascist ideal spread, Lindsay Graham’s words below will carry an even darker meaning:

Educate yourself as a way to strategize and stay safe, because the insurrection feels very similar to an abusive relationship, and is a huge red flag to dark history repeating itself. I’ll post more sources as I think of them. I just wanted to get this post out as soon as possible.

Disclaimer: I was raised by a narcissist and psychopath/sociopath, served as the middleman in their tumultuous divorce, and a good portion of my family fall somewhere in the dark triad, so my experience comes from first-hand accounts with this way of thinking, as well as extensive independent research I’ve done. I am not a psychologist, and I am not diagnosing anyone (these are personality traits, not disorders) so please also do your own research. My intention is to bring attention to the emergency we have on our hands, but please do not use this as your source of truth. This is my view and there are still debates around these terms, but I’ve done my best to be as factual as possible.

[dragonagecompanionsreact]

So... can we get DA2 companions reacting to a Teen!Hawke? Like just Hawke is a teenager and their siblings are like ten and here is Hawke trying their best to do the stuff they do in canon while their mother is working somewhere or something cause she’s not letting her kid do all the work here, so Hawke sometimes brings the twins with them on relatively safe missions or asks if one of their friends can look after them if they need to go do something.

       (Okay, I did some unnecessary research to figure out how old Hawke would actually be, and so based on the twins’ age, Hawke is 15 when escaping lothering and 19 at the start of act two.)

Aveline:

When she first meets Hawke and their family during the escape from Lothering, she acts more like a guard or soldier as everyone escapes. As time goes on and She gets to know Hawke better, she does begin to act like a protective older sister to the Hawke kids. As the acts and time passes, she begins to worry less about Hawke’s age, and more about them just doing Hawke things.

Anders: 

Normally when kids come into his clinic, they are ill or hurt, not looking to enter the deep roads. Having that entrance mixed with the way Hawke acts and holds themself insures that they leave a strong first impression. And as gun-ho Anders is with mage rights and his promoting of it, he isn’t as intense on trying to ‘convert’ Hawke. He does continue to ask what Hawke thinks and will comment on it, but the mage rights lectures don’t come until Hawke is both up in the world politically and older.

Fenris:

Given the way that they meet, Hawke’s age is not the first thing on his mind. It’s only when after raiding Danarius’s mansion that Fenris thinks to ask. Hawke’s age would only really bother him if Hawke was a mage; being so young, Fenris would be wary of Hawke’s control more than normal. Besides this, Fenris would have a level of respect for Hawke taking fate into their own hands at such a young age.

Isabella:

She is fine with a young Hawke and honestly love to see them kick the asses of trained fighters and thugs, that being said she is certainly more likely to jump to defend them in battle at a sign that they need help. She is also more hesitant about agreeing to let Hawke fight the Arishok for her life if they choose to do so. Other than that, her humor doesn’t change, minus less flirting with Hawke themself. 

Merril:

She is slightly more comfortable with a younger hawke at first as they both figure out how to weave through social interactions. She also looks up to this younger Hawke as they mature quickly as they deal with all the BS they end up dealing with. In battles, she does what she can to make sure Hawke is protected. 

Sebastian: 

Of all the people who could have imagined who would help him avenge his family, a young Hawke would not have been it. Both shocked that the deed was even done paired with the fact that a teenager lead it, he would be more contemplative of the effect everything would have. Other than that, as Aveline becomes an older sister figure, Sebastian would become an older brother figure. He would keep an eye on them in battle and occasionally try to guide the young Hawke away from this violent lifestyle. 

Varric: 

From the start, Varric was keen on meeting the young mercenary/smuggler who made such a name for themself, and upon meeting them he was not disappointed. And while his wild stories were always entertaining and well received, nothing beats the stories of grandeur starring one young adventurer. That being said, he takes pride in getting to see Hawke grow.  

[druddigoon]

bede and gloria; late night confessions

[it’s been a while since i worked on this, i tried to finish this to something ao3-worthy but the muse is just not comin ;_; didn’t quite get to the meat of your prompt tho it’s still at 1.5k words and full of drunk shenanigans!]

Bede doesn’t know how he got here. 

There’s something digging into his side, uncomfortable and wet (a log, some part of him helpfully supplies, before his thoughts sink into oblivion) as he half-squats, half-slumps onto the peat. Bioluminescent mushrooms pulse like strings of faerie lights at the edges of his periphery; he closes his eyes and feels the pleasant hum of television static against his bones, loose-limbed and sluggish. 

“Bede. Hey.” Someone’s standing him, shaking him. Glor-Gloria? What’s the champion doing here? She’d had more pressing obligations to take care of than visiting him, right? Unless she was…

He sits bolt upright. “Training.” 

“Hey. Bede no, you’re in no state to train.” She’s grabbing his shoulders, so irritably he shrugs her hands off. “Okay, fine. Haterenne, help me please?” 

“Hissssss.” 

“I know, it’s my fault, you can hate me for this later. Could you teleport him to Opal before he pukes on me?”

“I won’t puke on you.” He attempts to stand up, wobbles, and relocates onto the log, looking up at her like he only intended to shift his seat all along. “Just...don’t say a word of this to Opal, she doesn’t know I’m rende...rendezvu...meeting you for training at night.” 

Gloria makes a face like a goldeen, open-mouthed and slack-faced, before reeling herself in, blowing her bangs out of the way in exasperation. “What’re we going to do then?” 

“Train.” The log is awfully comfortable. 

She throws her hands up, stalking a ways away into the undergrowth. “Fine, you win. Hatterene, he’s yours now.” 

“Rene.” 

“This’ll wear off,” he insists after her. “Besides, we still have an entire night. It’s only--”

                                                                                     --Three in the morning. 

He knows this because it’s a routine ingrained into his internal body clock, reinforced by Sylveon sitting at his bedside and repeatedly probing him in the cheek. She dodges the togekiss sleep mask he flings at her, mewling incessantly from her safe space behind his rarely-used study desk as he fumbles the blanket off himself. 

Check surroundings. Judging by the iron klefki wards she hung in front of her door every night, Opal’s asleep across the hall; woman can sure sleep like the dead when she wants to. It’s quiet, empty. The portobellos growing on the kitchen walls ebb with the faint chartreuse of early morning. He pulls on his gear as quickly and quietly as possible, recalling Sylveon into her ball before climbing out his bedroom window. 

Despite most of the Ballonlea population being asleep, the Glimwood Tangle is teeming with activity: impidimps chittering from the trees, the echoing croons of hatterene in the distance, a male indeedee wandering around collecting swathes of amanita--most likely for some courtship ritual. He’s been gym leader for nearing six months now, and they no longer saw him as an intruder on their turf. The oranguru that always meditates underneath a wisteria-choked tree barely gives him the side eye as he passes. 

At the edge of the faerie ring, in their designated meeting location, he finds the Champion resting between the boughs of a tree. 

She’s already noticed him, of course--squirrelly, quick-eyed and observant, Challenger Bede had scribbled in his league-issue notepad, where he kept track of rivals and how to counter them--and he watched out of the corner of his eye as she made her way down, landing like it’s all she’s known, to fall and pick herself up. 

“The usual?” He prompts. 

“Nope.” Something clinks in her tired leather bag as she straightens herself. “I was thinking of having a battle today. Haven’t had one outside a boring league stadium in weeks.”

He makes a noise at the back of his throat reserved for when the region’s champion calls million-dollar, painstakingly designed entertainment buildings “boring”. Then again, Gloria never cared much for the stark geometry of commercial buildings. 

“But first. I brought something.” After rifling through her bag, she produces a jar of clear fluid with more flourish than she ever showed in her league battles, handing it to him. 

He unscrews the lid for a whiff and immediately regrets it. “Don’t tell me you smuggled alcohol all the way from Wyndon.” 

“Aren't you legal?” 

“Yes, I am. You aren’t.” Hatterene take him if Opal caught him in a hangover the next morning. At least Gloria had her own condo. 

“It’s only illegal if they catch you.” She replies, and Bede would agree wholeheartedly on any other day, if not for his desperate need to retain the vestiges of self-control slipping through his fingertips. Before he could protest, she takes the jar, tips it back to take a sip, then returns it to him.

He supposes he’s not a stranger to alcohol. While Rose never greeted him in-person, Bede had attended fancy meet-ups with potential patrons on behalf of the man (Galar loves a good rags-to-riches story, Oleana always told him) and let himself enjoy a flute or two of champagne on corporate dime. 

One sip. Surely nothing would come of one sip. 

“Alright,” he relents, “I suppose it’ll take more than a--

                                                                                    --Couple swallows in and he’s starting to feel lightheaded, the tips of his fingers strangely numb like that one time he accidentally stuck them into Gardevoir’s moonblast. Damn Opal and her “fairy boot camp”, he could bet on his favorite soap opera that no other trainer got their leg tied to their pokemon and forced to three-leg a batt--

“Drink.” Gloria orders, pushing the empty mason jar she refilled with water up to his lips. It tasted slightly viscous when he drank and...how did she get this anyways? Was it from her golisopod? Was he drinking bug spit?

“Bede. About your. Uh.” 

“We’ve disgus...discussed this to death already. I didn’t mean. Anything with the finalist speech. It was the heat of the moment, I was focused, and you were all that was on my mind--” 

“--So you were thinking about me then?”

“What?”

“What?”

“Anyways,” she continues uneasily, “Could you recall Hatterene? She looks like she wants to tear me to shreds with her mind.” 

“Oh.” He glances back and, sure enough, Hatterene is right behind him, every strand of hair bristling with psychic energy. “Hattie, behave. You’re better than this.” 

Hatterene trains the brunt of her attention to him, and there’s the low before a tidal wave, thrumming in his skull like a shotgun blast before she presses her pokeball and enters it with a huff. 

He hears an audible exhale from Gloria in the ensuing silence. “I haven’t heard you call her ‘Hattie’ in a long time.” 

“Old habit.” She’s long outgrown it now, but he still remembers her as a hatenna small enough to fit within the cradle of his arms, the outlier of the batch Macro Cosmos had donated to his orphanage. Most likely a breeding reject--too smart for her own good, too ill-behaved and unruly to be championship material--because nobody liked a pawn that didn’t follow orders. He knew how it went. “My younger self’s nicknaming skills left much to be desired.” 

They’ve come a long way since then.

“That’s sweet,” she says, and normally Bede would bristle at a challenge to his dignity, but today his limbs are sluggish and the bottomless pit of hatred he’d often found himself visiting seemed strangely empty.

"You were friends since you were young," Gloria clarifies, "And she obviously cares for you a lot--I've heard most hatterenes are as misanthropic as psychics come. It's nice that you've managed to keep it strong through your gym challenge."

"Gloria..."

"What's done is done though. I'm Champion, he's a researcher, and you're drunk out of your mind." When Bede sputters in response, she tips the jar of water in his general direction. He's forced to catch it so she doesn't spill the entirety of the contents on his clothes.

Definitely bug spit. But if this is the fix to the pressure building behind his eyes then he may as well take it. Even if that damn taste--

                                                                                    --is not at all what he expected: medicine-grade and overpowering, a hyper beam to his sinuses so powerful it forces him to tears. If this thing is safe to drink, the only reason would be because no bacteria would bear to live in it. He manages to swallow purely by willpower, refusing to spit it out in front of Gloria; whatever face he saves is instantly destroyed when she bursts out laughing at his expression. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, not sorry at all. Bede stares intensely at a cluster of mushrooms metres away and prays it’s too dark to catch the blood rushing to his face. “I thought-I thought you’d take it better. Maybe I overestimated you.” 

“And should I be under the assumption you’re a heavyweight drinker?” 

Gloria shrugs in lieu of an answer. “Leon always brought some kind of new wine or liquor when he visited home, and shared some of it with Hop. Hop shared some of it with me.” 

Unbelievable. And to think Leon was lauded as a children’s role model. Bede resists the urge to rub away a phantom headache. 

[demivampirew]

I’ve been quite obsessed with the war of the roses and the Tudor dynasty and also with the show (The Tudors). I’ve watched many documentaries and historians talk about that period of English history and I wanted to share my opinions on what are, in my opinion, the biggest mistakes the show made (changes that they made compared to history) and also explaining why I do understand why they probably made those choices.

Let’s start in this post with the number one mistake the series made:

 merging both Henry’s sisters into one. 

Henry had two sisters: Margaret and Mary. Margaret married King James IV of Scotland when she was 14 years old (he was sixteen years older than her). She became Queen consort of Scotland and later after his husband death’s fighting the English, she became Queen Regent for two years in name of her 17 months old son, James V (her constant shifting of alliances between the French supporters and the English supporters of the country made her lose power and the custody of her son). Her marriage to James IV was key in history for their son James V was the father of Mary Stuart, known as Mary, Queen of Scots and the mother of James VI, the successor of Queen Elizabeth I and first monarch to rule both England and Scotland at the same time.

Mary, on the other hand, married King Louis VII of France when she was 18 - she is the youngest of the Tudor siblings; and said king was 52 years old. Contrary to the show’s plot, Mary was keen on the idea of becoming Queen of France - actually, even if her time as Queen consort was short, she made everyone call her Queen of France for the rest of her days, instead of Dutchess of Suffolk. With that being said, she knew that the king would die eventually -he had gout and was ill, so she agreed to marry him as her brother desired without making a fuzz but made him promise that after that she’d able to marry whom she chose or she would become a nun - Henry agreed to that, on one hand, probably because of her good disposal to follow his desires without defying him - he was quite a monster to the people who dare to defy him (Catherine, his daughter Mary being huge examples), but he rewarded the people who followed his commands without complaining. On the other hand, even if offering her as a wife would have been beneficial for him, he couldn’t risk losing her Queen dowager’s money, thing that he’d do if she became a nun. Shortly after her marriage and a month after her coronation, King Louis XII died and Francis I became the new King of France - he was the late King’s son in law, who married said King’s daughter on his command so Francis could rule -because he only had a living daughter, Claude, and by the laws of the time, women could not rule France. - Fun fact: during Mary’s coronation, Francis was the one holding her crown during the entire ceremony for it was too heavy for her.

Charles Brandon was sent by King Henry VIII to France to return her sister home. This is an important thing to keep in mind. It was said that many people at court knew about the love Charles and Mary had about each other, including Henry himself. So, this would mean that he didn’t oppose their marriage as it’s believed and the series show. Yet, that didn’t mean that this marriage wasn’t a dangerous one, for many people important at court did not like Charles - the Duke of Norfolk being one of those, and they had money and big armies and could confront him if they wanted to for marrying the princess when he was made a Duke and no being born with noble blood - there are no records as far I as know from my research on what moment Charles was named Duke of Suffolk, so my guess is that it could have happened shortly after his father’s death - he was in charge of taking care of the King Henry VII’s horses and since he was a horse-man, the king became close friends to him and then he died defending his king and friend in battle. For this reason, the King raised Charles alongside his son and made him receive an excellent education. The young boy probably received the title of Duke as a reward for his father’s sacrifice.

Going back to the marriage deal, it was dangerous for Charles, but he married her anyway - he even lied to King Francis I when he confronted him to know if he was there to marry his mother-in-law, Mary and he denied it even though Mary had already confessed him the truth and angered said King by marrying without his consent when he promised that if they waited he would intervene to help them. Charles would later write a letter to Cardinal Wolsey to plead for his help to allow them to have a court wedding as well because they believed Mary was pregnant and they didn’t want anyone to question the child’s legitimacy.

Why this marriage was a big deal? Well, on one hand, it shows that it wasn’t an impulsive decision like in the show, but they had feelings for each other for a long time and that he really loved her if he was willing to risk his head to marry her. Also, Charles having many mistresses was a show plot, because it is said that they have a happy marriage until her death 13 years later. On the other hand, the importance of their marriage is on one of their daughters, Frances, because she was the mother of Lady Jane Grey, who would become Queen of England after the death of King Edward VI (King Henry VIII’s son with Jane Seymour) -for this name his cousin Jane the legitimate heir to the throne when he learned that he was dying of his illness and as a strong protestant, he wanted to avoid his sister Mary becoming Queen and making England being under the Pope’s authority once more and since he knew that Elizabeth wouldn’t agree to skip Mary of the succession, he felt that he had no other choice than to skip both of his sisters and name his protestant cousin and her heirs the next rulers of the country. Unfortunately, this Queen would have an extremely short reign, for after not even two weeks on the throne, she was executed so Mary could become Queen. - so yeah, Charles Brandon and Mary Tudor, Queen of France were the grandparents of a future Queen of the English throne, even if it was for a short period of time.

Now, let’s get to the part of why I understand these changes - even if I think they were a huge mistake.

Mainly, I think those changes were made due to budget and looking forward to the series to being picked up.

Usually series would film a pilot and those pilots would have screen tests and if they are successful, they got to film complete seasons. I think they thought that the competition between two young Kings was an exciting plot for the series so they started the show with that. The problem with that is that they left out the Mary marriage to King Louis XII aside because it could have made the plot complicated. Also, I think that would have to include the explanation of was Francis ended up on the throne and it’s a complicated one and it would have taken the show more screen time.

As for the Margaret marriage to King James IV was taken away from the series because of the same reasons, it’d have taken much screen time to explain the whole thing. So merging the two sisters into one could be a wiser decision as far as budget and screen time and also make the plot less complicated. Also, the plot was centre mostly on Henry VIII’s marriages and religious battles rather than the political wars.

Probably, to avoid any confusion, I’d had been easier to avoid adding any sister into the show - which was probably the original idea, since it was said the Charles on the show was going to be a small character, but then they probably realised that Charles was an important person in Henry VIII’s story because he was his most loyal friend to the very end and his relationship with his friend’s sister was quite important for his storyline.

I understand as well why the change of the king she was supposed to marry - first, King Louis XVII was already dead, since Francis was on the throne. Secondly, since they chose Margaret instead of Mary to be the one to appear on the show - probably because she was the eldest one of the two sisters and the age gap wasn’t so big (Mary was 18 and Charles was 31 (ish) when they married. They clearly needed a much older king to make it more dramatic. since if they made it 50 and she around 25, it wouldn’t have had the same impact - another important fact: that king is fictional. Manuel I was the King of Portugal at that time, he was around 50 and he was married to one of the daughters of the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V.

Well, I hope you enjoyed my Ted Talk (?) and soon I’ll do another post about other big mistakes that the show made. I don’t post it here because this is already a long-ass post 😂

[atinytokki]

Paradise

iv. The Pearl in the Oyster  

By the time San was seated in the boat with the wind on his face and the shores of his town on the horizon, he had overcome his shock at discovering a secret pirate refuge.

Jiyong and Mr. Shim had fussed over him and grilled him with questions after he was rescued, but from a combination of the fact that he wasn’t sure whether he had imagined the whole ordeal and the fact that he was terrified, he hadn’t given them much information.

“Please don’t tell my grandparents,” he suddenly begged as the Namhae docks came into view.

“San, you were lost in the caves for nearly an hour,” Mr. Shim argued as he adjusted the sails. “It would be irresponsible of me not to tell them.”

“But I’m not hurt!” San argued back, getting to his feet and swaying slightly with the momentum of the boat. “And they’ll only be angry at me for running away!”

Mr. Shim frowned at him, but he didn’t scold him again, so San took it as a sign to continue.

“Didn’t you ever wander off as a boy? You wouldn’t have wanted your parents to know, would you?”

“I did have my mischievous days,” the man admitted. “But I matured and stayed away from dangerous places until I could handle myself.”

He delivered this last line with a pointed glance, one that told San if he could shape up, he would be off the hook.

A smile grew on his face and he nodded eagerly.

“Alright,” Mr. Shim chuckled. “I was young once too, wasn’t I?”

San greeted the now familiar shores of his island with relief and helped to unload the boat until his grandparents appeared at the docks to collect him.

The old sailor reported that they had enjoyed a refreshing and uneventful time in the markets of Dalhae, true to his word. San waved goodbye to the two and flopped around in the back of the cart on the ride home.

Warm food in his belly and a gentle breeze  blowing through his window, San told Haneul of his adventures and organised her shells into a small wooden chest until Grandmother poked her head in and told them to go to bed.

Even as he stared into the fireplace and tried to fall asleep, the eyes of the pirate lingered in the back of his mind. 

Supposing San had gotten all the adventure that he needed, Grandfather put him to work in the carpentry shop the next morning and even more frequently after.

When he was out of the room, busy selling his wares in town, or asleep at the desk, San took it as an opportunity to stretch his sore leg and practice fighting invisible pirates in the carpentry shop unsupervised.

Of course, this resulted in the destruction of some of the carving displays and plank storage, so Grandfather passed him off to Grandmother while he cleaned up after him, and San was subject to quiet reading and a picnic on the beach for the afternoon.

For a boy with an active imagination, San’s life had become rather boring. Unless it was about pirates, it wasn’t interesting enough, so Grandmother in her indulgence gifted him a few naval history books in the hopes that he would be satiated. 

He was unsuccessful in discovering the identities of the pirates in the caves no matter how hard he researched, especially when all he had to go on was the fact that one had been sporting a peg leg (apparently a common occurrence among pirates) and the other had seemed... young. 

San had all but given up hope when one rainy day in late autumn, the familiar tapping sound of a peg leg resounded from the front path. 

His head shot up from where he had been in deep focus at his little desk, whittling a wooden ship (that Grandfather had discouraged, and didn’t need to know about) and he counted two seconds before the jangle of the bell rung out and the customer was on the doorstep, silhouetted by dripping rain that blinked silver in the lightning flash.

Suddenly, the stranger stepped closer and just like that, the fantasy was shattered. San didn’t recognise this man from the caves.

“Wh-Who are you?” He croaked out weakly, standing from his chair and watching the peg leg man intently. Pirate or no pirate, San was ready to defend the house from him if need be.

The man frowned and closed the door behind him, adjusting his satchel with an unreadable look in his eye. “I was informed you’d be expecting me.”

If they were expecting him, San wasn’t aware of the fact. It had only been three days since the magistrate had been over for dinner, and San’s grandparents didn’t invite guests that frequently. 

“Who are you, exactly?” He asked, trying to be polite, catching himself with a late bow.

“Oh, hello Dr. Hong!” 

Right on cue, Grandfather rushed out from the back room and came to shake hands with the man, whose large bag made a lot more sense now. 

A doctor.

San didn’t like doctors.

“I hope San didn’t let you stand out in the rain,” Grandfather was saying with a pointed glance that told San he was in trouble if he had.

“No, not at all,” Dr. Hong laughed as he was helped out of his coat. “The lad seemed wary, but I can see why.”

The doctor tapped his peg leg on the rug and San blushed at being called out. “I’ll tell you how I got it if you ask,” the man continued with a bright smile. “But first, I have a patient to attend to!”

Grandfather and the doctor hurried upstairs and left San to his own devices, wondering why a doctor had been called and quieting his intense curiosity about the peg leg as it began to grow again.

He finished the masts by the time Dr. Hong returned to the shop. Sensing the boy’s nervousness, the doctor quickly reassured him his visit was only a routine checkup.

“Haneul is doing well, all things considered,” he told him softly. “Though, you must always protect her and keep her healthy.”

San agreed in a heartbeat, not too naïve to forget why he was here on Namhae in the first place. 

Everything was for Haneul.

“Ah, yes, the leg,” the guest remembered just before leaving. 

San perked up and scooted closer to hear the tale. 

“It was back in my Navy days, before I picked up medicine,” he explained. “I was a gunner on one of those cargo transport ships, the Royal Longtail, back when the East Colonies were just starting out and the trade routes were being established. We were attacked by pirates on the trip back and I, an inexperienced soldier, was shot in the leg and carted to the infirmary for the rest of the battle. I thought for a few harrowing moments that I was on the brink of death, but somehow I was saved.”

“How?” San nearly burst out, leaning on the edge of his seat.

Dr. Hong displayed his peg leg again. “The surgeon chopped off my leg just above the knee and managed to stop the bleeding. That miracle— the one that saved my life— convinced me to switch to the field of surgery. It’s quite new and underdeveloped but as you can see, real results are happening!”

San smiled at the satisfying conclusion of the story and bid the doctor farewell.

He still didn’t like them as a rule, but he could make an exception for this one.  

Haneul claimed to be doing fine when San brought the evening meal up to her bedroom where she lay staring at the ceiling, but her skin was pale and clammy and from the way she was breathing he could tell she was anxious about something.

“Do you... want me to sit with you?” He asked timidly, unsure how to help once he’d set the plate on her bedside table and closed the window to shut out the breeze.

“No, just leave me alone,” his half-sister muttered, rolling over to face the wall and leaving San hurt and confused.

Without another word, he crept away and into his own room, tucking himself into bed. He knew not to take it personally, that sometimes she just got into moods like this when she was discouraged about her illness.

But it made San worry that the doctor hadn’t in fact told him everything.

Haneul appeared at breakfast but refused to play with him when he returned from school, in the few hours San had before he would be herded back into the carpentry shop.

It was disappointing but San took it as an opportunity to look for new friends, something he hadn’t put much effort into since arriving.

There were a couple of teenage girls with a five year old brother playing further down the beach on the rocks, the opposite way as Mr. Shim’s house, so San strolled over and introduced himself.

“I haven’t seen you before,” he admitted shyly. “Do you usually play further up the beach?”

“Yes,” the older of the two explained. “But today we’ve come here because of the construction.”

“Construction?” San asked, confused.

The girl pointed past the rooftops to the harbour where the masts craned like birds flocking along the shoreline. “The naval garrison. They’re finally building it.”

“It’s loud!” The little boy whined, crying when a particularly large swell washed him face-down into the sand. 

San giggled and helped him up, seamlessly joining in their hunt for oysters while they told him what the garrison in town was going to look like.

He couldn’t help but glance over the hill and wonder what it would mean for Namhae. The more Navy presence, the less likely pirates would appear. And the less likely the two from the Dalhae caves would appear.

As San cracked open an oyster and, to his amazement, found a lucky pearl, he decided maybe it was for the better.

He’d had his adventure- enough adventure for a lifetime. 

...

A/N:  Guess who finished her semester!!!!! It was a rough one tbh but now I can write unhindered so expect more from me soon, but in the meantime don't forget to rb and comment <3

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[t100ficrecsblog]

an interview with @elora-lane  (she/they) content warning: mentions of mental illness and past physical injury

what are you working on right now? what’s something you’d like to write one day? 

Right now, I am working on a Bellarke A/B/O period fic called Surely, You Must Know. I am also working on my Bellarke for BLM Prompts. The first one was posted a couple weeks ago, and I have a bit written for my Bellarke improv/roommates au, and the Josie/Bellamy Bellarke fic (where Bellamy goes through the wringer with an abusive Josie, and Clarke is there to help him heal). 

Something I’d like to write one day... I have a book idea about a genderfluid, bisexual individual based in the early 1820s. The main character (she/her, they/them) was born female and finds herself ostracized after she kisses her best friend (a female), when her friend says she is going to school elsewhere. It takes place over years, and involves the main character falling in love, her love being killed in front of her, having a child and ending up with the very same friend who couldn’t accept her own sexuality (the best friend is a lesbian). 

I’m not sure If I’ll get around to writing it, but I have it all planned out and the characters already live in my mind.  

what is the fanwork you’re most proud of?  Hmm... that’s honestly very difficult for me to answer because I’m rarely happy with my writing in the long term. But I’d say I’m proud of The Governor’s Daughter, which was written for Garcy (timeless, Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston). I had a three-part story planned out for this fic, but I’ve since gotten so absorbed with Bellarke that I changed the ending so it wouldn’t torture fans. But in the original ending the main character is pregnant when she is kidnapped, and her husband is recovering from a gunshot wound himself, when shots are fired in her home. 

The main character leaves thinking everyone she loves is dead. 

I was rather proud of the fic because it’s the longest thing I’ve written- and I don’t write long works. Beyond that, it was about two individuals who should never have met. But did and fell in love despite all odds. In the story not everything is as it seems. I did a lot of research for it and wonder if I got it right (the language probably needs some work). I sorta get obsessed with research, although I know it’s not perfect. 

The Bellarke work I’m most proud of is probably How Not to Quarantine. I went into it wanting to write something smutty. But it became a bit deeper than that and dealt with issues of battling societal norms, sexism toward both women and men, and miscommunication. 

why did you first start writing fic?  I got inspired by Garcia Flynn and Lucy Preston from Timeless. I got inspired by the idea of time travel, and how the future is never as it seems. I’ve always written poetry, and very short stories. But fan fic has been my first time really writing stories with somewhat significant plotlines. I wanted to fill a plot hole, and well... I haven’t stopped writing since. 

Another aspect of it was that I was new mom and unemployed. I have twins who are toddlers now. But when I first started writing I had horrible post-partum depression and anxiety that lasted two years. Writing helped me funnel all of that and be the new mom I needed to be. The lovely comments and encouragement I got from fandom friends played a part in keeping me on the road to recovering from my worst depressive episode. 

what frustrates you most about fic writing?  Honestly, not to sound mellow-dramatic, but me. I frustrate myself. 

I’ve mentioned it a little bit, but I had a few head injuries and I have bad ADHD. It’s a lot better than it was when I first started writing about two and half years ago. I would revisit my works and there were so many errors and things that just didn’t make sense. After my last head injury (I fell 8ft on concrete right onto the back of my head about eight years ago), I would write papers that made sense to me in the moment, and then my instructor would show me what I wrote, and it was just totally jumbled up nonsense- some of it wasn’t even words. Needless to say, I had to drop out of college. 

So, as frustrating as it is, I’m proud of myself for continuing to write enough to retrain my brain (of course, it also healed, and anti depressants helped my brain chemistry realign). I still make errors and my brain gets tired quickly on some days, but I’ve come a long way. Grammarly is a huge help, too! 

what are your top five songs right now?  Oh boy. I totally blame @star-sky-earth for the first three... here is a list. 

Body by SYML

Touch by Sleeping at Last

Let Me by ZAYN

Bulletproof Weeks by Matt Nathanson

Nashville by Noah Gundersen

That was so hard to decide, thank you for the challenge!

what are your inspirations (books, songs, other fic, really good cake?)?  Music is huge for me. I’m very sensitive to the mood that music puts me in. A good tune can help me think of an entire plotline. Usually, it’s the music in a movie and the visuals that inspire me, and rarely the dialogue. 

Anything by Jane Austen is inspiring for my Bellarke ABO period fic. My fav JA book is Northanger Abbey, but I rewatched the film version of Mansfield Park, Emma, and Sense and Sensibility (the BBC three-parter) all in one night! 

Bonus note: the new Emma has a really good kiss scene that is just 100%... Muy Bueno. Loved it. ed’s note: the new Emma film is very good

what first attracted you to Bellarke? what attracts you now? Well, frankly I was attracted to Bellarke fic before I liked them in the show. But some of the Modern AUs and some of the Canon Divergent AUs have power dynamics that really get me. I love fics where one of them is a king/queen or boss, and it takes time for them to fall in love, but the one with the power is gracious and caring and uses that to help the other. Even if it takes a while to get there, I guess kindness and compassion attract me. As does conflict resolution. To me, conflict is worth it if it gets a good resolution. 

I also like other themes like loyalty, perseverance, transformation, epiphany and absolution. 

In the show, season six hooked me. 

BESIDES Bellarke, what character or pairing do you like best on t100?  I’m gonna answer this from a fic writer perspective. Honestly, I’d love to see season six Echo continue the road to absolution and end up with Gabriel (I mean, it’s a pipe dream, but Gecho, c’mon...). I’m okay with where she is in season seven, because I can’t control it. But it’s not what I would have done. 

Roan/Echo is fav of mine. 

I also would have loved to see Gina and Raven. Or more Gina/Bellamy. I really liked Gina. 

As far as 100% actual ships, I liked Linctavia. I do like season seven, too. Although it feels like a totally different show. 

why did you decide to start writing for bellarkefic-for-blm?  I decided to because it allows me to use something unique for the good of others. I try for the most part to help others.

what’s your writing process like?  Chaos. 

Writing for me is like cracking open a coconut. It’s tough to get there, but once you do it doesn’t stop. And if you hit it too hard, the stuff just goes all over the place. 

what are some things you’d like to recommend?  In general? Umm... Calm Magnesium drink, it’s super relaxing. Like last night I started having all this anxiety and drank some. It calmed me down enough to sleep (also listened to the sound of a snowstorm and crackling fire). 

I also recommend introspection and reflection. If you do that a lot, I recommend art or writing. Life is all about balance.

You can find @elora-lane here on Tumblr, or at their ao3 here. Request a fic written by her over at @bellarkefic-for-blm.