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senadimell · 4 years

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If you've got time to share, I'd love to hear more about your thoughts around Snape and Lupin.

@deathdaydungeon, here you are!

After a conversation with @frederick-the-great, I’ve been thinking about Lupin, Snape, and what they say about morality in HP. I’m not talking about the troublesome white hats, black hats morality, but am instead looking at from this angle: Lupin is nice and well-liked, but often lacks a backbone, whereas Snape is mean and disliked, but incredibly brave. Which is more important? I find Harry’s last sacrifice to be a useful point by which we measure their impact.

Lupin and Snape useful to compare on several important fronts.

As foils for each others’ teaching methods

The way they deal with social disadvantage

Their connections to Harry’s father and how they pass on James’ legacy

1) They both teach at Hogwarts, and are foils for each other in many ways. Snape is mean and takes away points. He’s seen as selfish. His classes are hard and unpleasant for Harry. He’s mean to Neville, and rather than encouraging him, mocks him and belittles him, which just adds to the overall disaster of Neville’s poor self-esteem mixing badly with potions class.

However, even Umbridge admits that Snape’s teaching methods work, and she’s working for Fudge who doesn’t like Death Eaters and has been defied by Snape in GoF, so we know he’s effective for a lot of people, if not Neville.

Yet, for all that, Snape saves Harry’s life multiple times. On top of that, Snape wants to keep the fact that he saved Harry’s life a secret.

“Very well. Very Well. But never--Never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it, I cannot bear...especially Potter’s son...I want your word!

My word, Severus, that I will never reveal the best of you? Dumbledore sighed, looking down into Snape’s ferocious, anguished face. “If you insist...”

DH 679, The Prince’s Tale

Conversely, Lupin is nice and rewards points. He’s seen as generous. His classes are fun and interesting for Harry. He’s kind to Neville, and expresses confidence in him that leads him to succeed and do well. That confidence is a huge part of Neville’s character development. I doubt he’d grow into the resistance leader in DH if not for the many times teachers expressed confidence in him, like Dumbledore in PS, Lupin in PoA, Fake!Moody in GoF, and Harry in OotP. Harry certainly approves of his methods:

“You’re the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had!” said Harry. “Don’t go!”

PoA 424, Owl Post Again

However, it’s worth noticing that Hermione does worse on his exam than we ever see. She fails the Boggart test, and she and Harry were the only two people not permitted to experience the Boggart in class. Lupin’s teaching methods aren’t foolproof. Despite that, he’s overall seen as a nice guy and good teacher.

Yet Lupin endangers Harry’s life. The secrets he keeps are dangerous: his secret to keep is that he’s a werewolf and actively endangered three students lives with his negligence, as well as the fact that he hid a secret about a believed and convicted mass murderer to save face with Dumbledore.

“That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you’d given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?”

“A thought that still haunts me,” Lupin said heavily. “And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless--carried away with out own cleverness.

“I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore’s trust, of course....he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmasters would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others’ safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month’s adventure. And I haven’t changed...

Lupin’s face had hardened, and there was self-disgust in his voice. “All this year I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn’t do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I’d betrayed his tryst while I was at school, admitting that I’d led others along with me...and Dumbledore’s trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using Dark Arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it...so in a way, Snape’s been right about me all along.”

PoA 355, Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Plan is emphasized because those trips that ended in “near misses” weren’t some impulsive romp. They were planned and coordinated in advance.

“I just saw Hagrid,” said Harry. “And he said you’d resigned. It’s not true, is it?”

“I’m afraid it is, said Lupin. He stared opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents.

“Why?” said Harry. The Ministry of Magic don’t think you were helping Sirius, do they?”

Lupin crossed to the door and closed it behind Harry.

“No. Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives.” He sighed. “That was the final straw for Severus. I think* the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard. So he--er--accidentally let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast.”

“You’re not leaving because of that!” said Harry.

Lupin smiled wryly.

“This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents ....They will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you...That must never happen again.

“You’re the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had!” said Harry. “Don’t go!”

PoA 424, Owl Post Again

What strikes me about this conversation is how Lupin shifts the blame around. This doesn’t start with an admission of guilt. He’s not leaving because the parents are right. He’s not leaving because he’s seen how dangerous he can be, or because he owns up to making an incredibly dangerous decision. He’s leaving because Snape forced his hand. If Snape didn’t do that, he would do the same thing he’s always been doing: sweeping his misdoing under the rug and promising himself privately that he’s going to change, but never doing it.

It’s always someone else’s fault for Lupin. That’s a neat tie in to the next point of comparison:

2. Lupin and Snape both experience marginalization in wizarding society, but in very different ways. Lupin faces socio-legal** marginalization and Snape faces socio-economic marginalization.

Lupin’s a werewolf. We see how prejudice affects his life, from his inability to find a job and his worn out clothes to his people-pleasing nature. He’s always acting nice and harmless. He does nothing to play into the condemning stereotypes he’s faced since childhood. Despite that, he still can’t find a job. Nobody will hire him, and people are scared to interact with him. From the way he talks about werewolves, it’s implied that this prejudice is held blindly across Wizarding society. Both Ron and Hermione are horrified to learn Lupin’s a werewolf. *** Later on, he’s legally limited in the kinds of jobs he holds and the kind of magic he’s allowed to perform. Lupin has no control over his transformations, and did not choose his condition.

Lupin’s not really wrong when pities himself. The odds really are stacked against him when he’s treated as if he’s a wolf 24/7, not just a few predictable times a month. His prospects are honestly awful.

The problem is, his condition is dangerous. Thus, the issue of victim blaming is particularly thorny for Lupin. He can’t just accept that he’s a monster for something he has no say over, and yet he can’t escape the fact that sometimes he is monstrous for reasons out of his control. He feels guilty for the people he could have hurt, but also seems to resent that people blame him for something that’s not his fault. The problem is that he carries that lack of accountability into spheres where he should be accountable, like not taking his medication and endangering children because of it.

Snape’s story is very different. He is poor in both the wizard and muggle worlds, and half-blooded, and was sorted into Slytherin as a child. He doesn’t have one condition against him, but checks boxes that make it hard for any one side to accept him. He’s too impure and poor to survive on his own for the Slytherin, but is a Slytherin with Death Eater friends and housemates interested in dark magic, which means he’s never going to fit in with the Order of the Phoenix crowd, especially when some of its members torment him at school. ****4

This essay makes a convincing point that the wizarding world is not a meritocracy, and that people like Snape need powerful patronage to advance if they don’t have the money to support themselves.

I don’t consider the sorting a proper choice. I know Harry does, but I’m of the opinion that at age 11, very few people have been taught how to analyze different perspectives and make an informed decision. Most 11-year-olds are trained to obey their parents and accept their family’s ideology. Harry’s choice rests on very little evidence--most of what he knows is what Hagrid told him, and that he doesn’t want to be sorted into Voldemort’s house along with Draco Malfoy, someone who reminds him of Dudley. I don’t think Snape was very informed either (I’d love to know why), because he doesn’t realize why it Lily wouldn’t be sorted into Slytherin.

“You’d better be in Slytherin,” said Snape, encouraged that she had brightened a little. DH 671, The Prince’s Tale

Either the pureblood rhetoric just wasn’t strong in those days, or his mother didn’t tell him about that.

...“Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?”

James lifted an invisible sword.

“’Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!’ Like my dad.”

Snape made a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him.

“Got a problem with that?”

“No,” said Snape, though his slight sneer said otherwise. “If you’d rather be brawny than brainy--”

DH 671-2, The Prince’s Tale

It seems that most people just follow familial preferences. As to why Snape wants to be in Ravenclaw over Slytherin, my preferred interpretation is that he had a family legacy, knew that Slytherin rewarded the ambitious and clever, and that Slughorn, the head of Slytherin house, had a knack for making the kind of connections that a poor, clever boy would need to succeed.

Nevertheless, once Snape was in Slytherin, the odds were stacked against him. The house in that era was full of people who would later be Death Eaters. “Dark Magic” wasn’t frowned upon among his housemates, and siding with Voldemort wasn’t yet widely acknowledged as a transgression by wider society.

“No, no, but believe me, [Sirius’ parents] thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having pure-bloods in charge. They weren’t alone either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colors, who thought he had the right idea about things.…” OotP 112

Additionally, people like Bellatrix were in the years above him, and given how Fred and George acted with younger students, I think it’s highly likely younger students had to find a place in the hierarchy or be the target of ‘pranks.’ He was a halfblood, after all, and dirt poor.

Snape knew these people. He ate with them, slept with them, and went to class with them. It is so much easier to understand and befriend someone you spend time with. I’d say that most people who subscribe to problematic ideologies aren’t just awful to be around all the time, or else these movements wouldn’t gain any traction. They’re likely funny and nice to be around if you’re not on their bad side.

In addition to strong peer pressure to befriend the people who would be death eaters, he was also bullied four to one. His bullies received protection from the headmaster when he was nearly killed or permanently maimed. They were popular and well liked.

The best analogy I’ve heard to describe Snape's Hogwarts situation is that he’s a kid in a rough neighborhood who joins the local gang. It provides protection and the hope of social mobility, and from his perspective, the other gang fights just as dirty (his treatment by the marauders). He doesn’t stop to think that the system is flawed, or that the gang’s very existence indicates the failure of authority and threatens its members. He just sees himself as a kid with nothing who needs help with protection and advancement. We know that Voldemort hasn’t shown his true colors, and it’s possible he showed different faces to different people.

‘Now, yer mum an’ dad were as good a witch an’ wizard as I ever knew. Head Boy an’ Girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst’ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get ’em on his side before ... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin’ ter do with the Dark Side.

‘Maybe he thought he could persuade ’em ... maybe he just wanted ’em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Hallowe’en ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an’ – an’ –’ (“The Keeper of the Keys”)

Dumbledore’s cited as the reason they turned him down, not their blood status. I think there’s evidence that the wholesale anti-muggleborn campaign wasn’t a huge part of the first wizarding war, and wasn’t implemented until the second, even if there was anti-muggle propaganda. (Muggle=/=muggleborn). It’s implied that Tobias is abusive and that Snape hates him for what he did to him and his mother; it’s implied that faced class prejudice by the muggles around him as well:

“I know who you are. You’re that Snape boy! They live down Spinner’s End by the river,” she told Lily, and it was evident from her tone that she considered the address a poor recommendation.

DH 665, The Prince’s Tale

When you read stories about people who are able to escape cycles of gang violence and poverty, there’s almost always someone who lifts them out. There’s someone who pushes them, or extends a hand, or believes in them. There are community outreach programs, or churches, or an English teacher that pushed them to do better and try out for a scholarship. That person is usually someone who knows what it’s like and knows how hard it is to get out.

Snape doesn’t seem to get that support anywhere. Slughorn doesn’t seem to notice him, for whatever reason. Lily doesn’t approve of his friends, but also doesn’t understand at all what the pull is--that it’s hard to swim against the current of what everyone else is saying, despite the fact that she feels the same pressure to end her friendship with Snape.

“… thought we were supposed to be friends?” Snape was saying. “Best friends?” “We are, Sev, but I don’t like some of the people you’re hanging round with! I’m sorry, but I detest Every and Mulciber! Mulciber! What do you see in him, Sev, he’s creepy! D’you know what he tried to do to Marry Macdonald the other day?”

DH 673, The Prince’s Tale

In the very same conversation, the fact that Snape is not allowed to share what happened to him with Lupin and the werewolf incident means that Lily will never be able to understand what Snape is facing: That the leader of the good guys makes excuses for and protects people who recklessly endanger the lives of others.

“And you’re being really ungrateful. I heard what happened the other night. You went sneaking down that tunnel by the Whomping Wollow, and James Potter saved you from whatever’s down there--”

Snape’s whole face contorted and he spluttered, “Saved? Saved? You think he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends’ too!...”

DH 674, The Prince’s Tale

Later in the year after SWM, she tells Snape this:

“None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you.”

DH 675 The Prince’s Tale

She expects him to reject all of his classmates and stand against the tide, despite the fact that she knows how hard it is to do that and can’t comprehend why he sticks with his classmates. She expects him to be grateful to James Potter as if what he did was altruistic, because the Headmaster swore Snape to secrecy and he keeps his promises, despite the fact that someone else was spreading the story. (The fact that she says she heard it instead of talking about it like its common knowledge implies that she heard it from a friend, so our friends the Marauders likely weren’t keeping their lips zipped even if Snape was.)

I don’t say this to shift the blame away from Snape to Lily in regards to Snape joining the Death Eaters. I just want to point out that Lily wasn't someone who could help him break the cycle. He didn’t squander some chance she offered him. She just wasn’t enough to break him out--not empathetic, motivated, or well-informed enough. (I think the fact that they were peers plays a big role in that).

Ultimately, Snape did choose to join the Death Eaters. He did yield to peer pressure. He did obey his assignment and report the prophecy to Voldemort. He spent his youth yielding, following the path in front of him, and choosing what was probably the easier choice: stick with your group, find powerful friends, do what they want, and don’t ask too many questions about their methods. That’s what makes his decision to betray Voldemort so powerful to me.

Here’s part of the passage when Snape betrays Voldemort:

...The adult Snape was panting, turning on the spot, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, waiting for something or for someone...His fear infected Harry too, even though he knew that he could not be harmed, and he looked over his shoulder wondering what it was that Snape was waiting for--

Then a sliding, jagged jet of white light flew through the air. Harry thought of lightning, but Snape had dropped to his knees and his wand had flown out of his hand.

“Don’t kill me!”

DH 676, The Prince’s Tale

He was terrified. He knew he was caught between the world’s two most powerful wizards, but it was worth it if he could save his childhood friend.

Then when Lily dies:

“Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the share and color of Lily Evans’s eyes, I am sure?”

“DON’T!” bellowed Snape. “Gone...dead...”

“Is this remorse, Severus?”

“I wish..I wish I were dead....”

“And what use would that be to anyone?” said Dumbledore coldly.

DH 678, The Prince’s Tale

Whatever motivation Snape had before is gone. A person’s life who is not his own is worth more than his own, and he’s drowning in guilt. From now on, Snape works to be useful in saving Harry’s life, and later many lives, at risk of death. His choices are a black mark on his record, likely making it difficult for him to get a job when he’s been tried as a Death Eater, and all of his wizarding connections are Death Eaters or their associates. He has no money or influence. Dumbledore hires him.

So Lupin has a single ailment and faces constant social and legal discrimination. He constantly tries to undermine people’s expectations about werewolves by being mild, but unfortunately is too afraid of rejection and its consequences to stand up against bad behavior or take full responsibility for his failings. He has friends who support him, but do it by engaging in risky behavior. He does not stop them. Perhaps he fears exposure and expulsion. Perhaps he just likes belonging for once. Either way, he does not come clean until forced to.

Snape is different; instead of facing outright rejection, he’s from a poor background and grows up surrounded by peers who join something somewhere between a gang and a cult while being bullied by people groomed by a rival organization. The headmaster of his school supports the rival organization and swears him to secrecy about an incident when they endangered his life, sending the message that his life is worthless. That same group continues to publicly bully him. He continues down this path until he realizes that it endangers something he cares about, and makes a decision that puts him at risk of being killed by the two most powerful wizards alive. He changes course.

Snape seems to view his problems as challenges facing him, whereas Lupin sees his problems as part of who he is, and not something he can change. Lupin seems to accept what happens to him in a fatalist kind of way. He sees what happens as inevitable and somewhat out of his control, whereas Snape never seems to blame his circumstances for him becoming a death eater, even though they clearly limited his options. I think that attitude matters. However, because Lupin’s facing a fictional magical malady, it’s difficult to fully blame him for that attitude.

Both Lupin and Snape have to react to powerful societal pressure that makes it difficult for them to succeed. Comparing them is apples and oranges at best, because their circumstances were so different. I don’t think you can judge either’s morality based on group identity, though.

3. Finally, they both act as a window on James: who he was, and what he means to Harry, who never knew him. That means in some way, they help pass on his parental legacy to orphaned Harry.

Hogwarts is Harry’s home, which means that the teachers are more than just teachers, but play a symbolic parental role in his life.

Hogwarts was the first and best home he had known. He and Voldemort and Snape, the abandoned boys, had all found home here.

DH 697, The Forest Again

You can’t understand Harry without realizing what he lacks: a loving home and living parents. He’s always looking into the past to find his parents, and is saddled with a legacy he struggles to understand--why did he live, who were his parents, and what does he need to do now?

Lupin and Snape also share a connection with Harry that goes beyond a normal teacher-student relationship, unlike McGonagall or Flitwick. Snape and Lupin are more personally connected to Harry than the other professors because they know Harry’s parents and went to school with them. I will mostly focus on James from here on out since we know so little about Lily personally and Harry mostly tries to emulate or avoid his father’s behavior and legacy.

They’re also the last people who knew James to survive, and they die almost at the same time. They’re the only teachers apart from Dumbledore who give Harry private lessons. More importantly, these lessons are all tied thematically to Harry’s past. Harry’s experience with dementors and the patronus charm are his first re-encounter with his parents and his past.

Terrible though it was to hear his parents’ last moments replayed inside his head, these are the only times Harry had heard their voices since he was a very small child. But he’d never be able to produce a proper patronus if he half wanted to hear his parents again.

PoA 243, The Patronus

In the end of PoA, Harry sees himself and mistakenly thinks it’s his father.

“Come on!” he muttered, staring about. “Where are you? Dad, come on--”

But no one came. Harry raised his head to look atet he circle of dementors across the lake. One of them was lowering its hood. It was time for the rescuer to appear--but no one was coming to help this time--

And then it hit him--he understood. He hadn’t seen his father--he had seen himself--

Harry flung himself out from behind the bush and pulled out his want.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” he yelled.

PoA 411, Hermione’s Secret

So the patronus itself is linked up with Harry’s past, and his coming-of-age. He doesn’t rely on others to save him, but must do it himself. (Though Harry’s never really trusted the adults to save him.) It’s interesting to note that Harry actually learns the Patronus charm under Lupin’s tutelage.

On the other hand, Snape introduces Harry to the unpleasant side of his father’s legacy. Through Snape, we see that James wasn’t just a little cocky, but a bully.

“Apologize to Evans!” James roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at him. “I don't want you to make him apologize,” Lily shouted, rounding on James. “You're as bad as he is.” “What?” yelped James. “I'd NEVER call you a--you-know-what!” “Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can--I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.” She turned on her heel and hurried away.

....

He had no desire at all to return to Gryffindor Tower so early, nor to tell Ron and Hermione what he had just seen. What was making Harry feel so horrified and unhappy was not being shouted at or having jars thrown at him; it was that he knew how it felt to be humiliated in the middle of a circle of onlookers, knew exactly how Snape had felt as his father had taunted him, and that judging from what he had just seen, his father had been every bit as arrogant as Snape had always told him. OotP, Snape’s Worst Memory, emphasis added

It’s interesting note that Harry fails to learn Occlumency from Snape. (In fact, we never see Harry use magical skills he learned from Snape apart from Expelliarmus, which is...important). At the same time, he gains an important perspective.

You can’t have James without this part of him. However kind James was to Lupin, however brave James was when he saved his wife, he was neither kind nor brave when he bullied Snape. It’s uncomfortable and awkward, but it’s important.

When he had finished, neither Sirius nor Lupin spoke for a moment. Then Lupin said quietly, “I wouldn’t like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry. He was only fifteen —”

“I’m fifteen!” said Harry heatedly.

OotP

Harry rejects the idea that actively bullying someone is just folly of youth. He knows what it’s like to be disenfranchised. Regardless of what Snape and James’ relationship was, he didn’t deserve that kind of humiliation. And Lupin watched, and defends him. Harry has to grapple with that.

Ultimately, Snape and Lupin do more than just connect him to his past. They also teach him his two signature spells, Expelliarmus and Expecto Patronum. One saves his soul, and one saves his life and frees the wizarding world from Voldemort because of Voldemort’s fractured soul.

Snape and Lupin as moral counterpoints

How do we evaluate this:

“I’d never have believed this,” Harry said. “The man who taught me to fight dementors--a coward.”*****5

DH 213, The Bribe

and this?

“Albus Severus, you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew.

DH 758, Seventeen years later

Ultimately, I don’t think it’s really that useful to pit two people with different backgrounds against each other. At the same time, they represent two different halves of a question: when it comes down to it, should we try to be kind or brave? I don’t think you have to pick one, but when pursuing the two, there are bound to be moments of conflict.

I always come back to the lyrics to Last Midnight from Sondheim’s Into the Woods.******6

You're so nice You're not good You're not bad You're just nice I'm not good I'm not nice I'm just right I'm the witch You're the world

Snape doesn’t care about being nice. I think this is where most non-Snape fans start pulling out the pitchforks and torches. Snape isn’t nice, and he’s not nice to kids. He’s not nurturing.*******7 He’s abrasive, allergic to coddling, and petty when he can get away with it. In fact, most of the people he’s ‘nice’ to are significantly more powerful than him, or someone he needs to be on good terms with.

Lupin is nice. He’s mild. He’s often kind. However, he often picks being liked over standing up for something.

What does that result in? He doesn’t stand up for Snape. The bullying continues and keeps Snape firmly on his path. He wins the respect of the Gryffindors with the Snape Boggart incident but loses whatever credibility he had to tell Snape to ‘put their past behind him.’

On the other hand, Neville’s bravery in DH was nurtured by Lupin’s confidence. Neville kept hope alive and led a rebellion. Lupin is one of the few adults that Harry fully respects and trusts up until the Grimmauld place confrontation. (He likes Hagrid and Molly, but doesn’t necessarily trust them to make decisions in their best interest, while he usually respects Lupin’s judgement). Harry loves him, and it’s because he loved him and watched him die that he needs to act and fight back against Voldemort.

Ultimately, Harry’s relationship with James and the adults who pass on his legacy is one of the most important symbolic relationships in the book. The thematic resolution of the series is Harry’s act of sacrificial love.

He did not know what to feel, except shock at the way Snape had been killed, and the reason for which it had been done....

...He could not bear to look at any of the other bodies, to see who else had died for him. He could not bear to join the Weasleys, could not look into their eyes, when if he had given himself up in the first place, Fred might never had died...

He turned away and ran up the marble staircase. Lupin, Tongs...He yearned not to feel....He wished he could rip out his heart, his innards, everything that was screaming inside of him.

To escape into someone else’s head would be a blessed relief....Nothing that even Snape had left him could be worse than his own thoughts.

DH 660-662, The Prince’s Tale

He rushes to the headmaster’s office to escape into Snape's memories. His memories convince Harry that sacrificing himself is the expedient thing to do, and he heads to the Forbidden Forest. To enable is last sacrifice, he uses the Resurrection stone to witness his parents and his father’s friends. Their combined testimony is enough to ameliorate his personal fears about following through with this final act.

Lupin and Snape leave entirely different legacies behind. Lupin encourages and inspires. As an authority figure, he gives people like Neville space to grow and his compassion towards Harry gives him the strength to face his demons. Harry’s decision in DH to die must have something to do with the kindness he was shown, and the sacrifices people who loved him made for him, of which Lupin is a part. Despite what he saw in Princes’ Tale, Snape wasn’t one of the people who’d make an appearance with the Resurrection stone.

Yet Snape sacrificed his life for Harry and the wizarding world, entities that Snape didn’t seem to like and that certainly weren’t kind to him. His form of bravery is about endurance, tenacity, and willingness to do what is right even when you hate your allies and no one else is going to credit you for what you do. And that’s very Harry. Even if he hates Draco, he’s not about to let him die if he can help it. Harry has much more in common with Snape than Lupin, I think.

Since this is about souls, let’s return to the Patronus charm. Snape’s not the kind of person who typically inspires that kind of emotion required to cast a Patronus in others, at least from what we see in Harry’s perspective. Yet because he has experienced that love, he can cast it and shows Harry what needs to be done. Snape enables Harry to dive under the ice. Lupin’s the kind of person who can inspire a patronus, but isn’t the one to make the sacrifice play until after Harry confronts him about his duty to his family. Ultimately, though, they both sacrifice themselves in the Battle of Hogwarts.

* Ever since I realized how blatantly tangential Order of Merlin must be to Snape’s character motivation, that line has frustrated me to no end. There’s no way frothing-at-the-mouth PoA Snape just really coveted that Order of Merlin. He’s often petty, yeah, but if Lupin believes it’s just about that and has nothing to do with Snape’s real conviction about how dangerous Lupin’s actions were, he’s deluding himself. I hate that he passes it on to his students.

**Yes, I am making up words today. Lupin’s faces prejudice and discrimination on a social level enforced by increasingly powerful discriminatory laws.

*** It’s worth noting that if we take every book as equally valid canon, then there’s either widespread ignorance towards lycanthropy, as Lockhart convinces everyone he was able to “cure” the Wagga-Wagga werewolf, and as teenage Horcrux!Riddle said Hagrid raised werewolf cubs under his bed, or else lycanthropy is actually a wide range of conditions under a wolfy umbrella ranging from treatable to incurable. Lupin is our primary source for lycanthropy: he’s the one who tells us about Greyback, for example. If we hold the first two books as equally valid, then perhaps we only know about Lupin’s particular type of condition. That’s the Watsonian analysis, anyways.

****4 These footnotes are getting ridiculous. Basically, there’s no consensus on what Dark Magic is, and on what basis it’s Evil. This essay goes into things that are labelled as curses. I’m inclined to believe that the vast majority of Dark Magic is just Magic We Don’t Like for Reasons.

The definition of what is and isn't considered Dark Magic is never explained: often it just seems to mean "a curse I don't approve of". Even "curse" has never been satisfactorily defined, but we can certainly say that not all curses are regarded as evil, since some appear to be on the Hogwarts curriculum, and are certainly performed without censure.

*****5 While I paired the quotes at the top of this section together for dramatic effect, it’d be a shame not to look at the context of the Lupin fight.

“I thought you’d say [that your mission was top secret],” said Lupin, looking disappointed. But I might still be of some use to you. You know what I am and what I can do. I could come with you to provide protection. There would be no need to tell me exactly what you were up to. Harry hesitated. It was a very tempting offer.

Hermione then asks about Tonks.

“I’m pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren’t sticking with your own kid, actually”... ...“I’d never have believed this,” Harry said. “The man who taught me to fight dementors--a coward.”

...“Parents shouldn’t leave their kids unless--unless they’ve got to.”

...“I know I shouldn’t have called him a coward.”“No, you shouldn’t,” said Ron at once. “But he’s acting like one. “ “All the same...” said Hermione.

“I know,” said Harry. “But if it makes him go back to Tonks, it’ll be worth it, won’t it?”

He could not keep the plea out of his voice. Hermione looked sympathetic, Ron uncertain. Harry looked down at his feet, thinking of his father. Would James have backed Harry in what he had said to Lupin, or would he have bene angry at how his son had treated his old friend?

DH 213, The Bribe

Harry feels personally betrayed that someone who has a family and child would abandon them. Here he is unyielding and accusing to someone he cares about in the hopes that they re-evaluate what matters. It’s a rather Snape-like tactic, actually. Or else a Dumbledore one.

I love the dialogue in this scene, but have some major issues with how Harry’s internalization drops out the window for shock value. JKR does the same thing when has Harry pull the Veritaserum trick in HBP. I don’t like it.

******6 The witch and Snape aren’t perfect analogues, since she’s decidedly more amoral in my opinion, but they’re both contractually-motivated characters whose humanity is shown by their (platonic/familial) love for a more “innocent” character and the guilt at the innocent character’s sacrificial death. Guilt doesn’t lead the witch to do anything productive, and for Snape it does, which is where they diverge on the character path.

*******7 Draco may be an exception to this. However, watching Snape struggle to build rapport with Draco in HBP leads me to think that while Snape’s been on Draco’s side, he’s still not “nurturing,” or in other words, good at cultivating trust and encouraging the strong and wholesome parts of someone’s personality to grow.

#hp meta #snape #pro snape #severus snape #remus lupin #i haven't figured out how to make this appear above the cut...

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its-freakinbats · 5 years

Text

Hold Me Down-- r.s. x reader

Hello, all! I have escaped my hole in the ground and decided to write. I saw Birds of Prey three times in theaters and did my best to not write for this asshat, but here we are.

Roman Sionis needs to be dommed, and that’s that on that.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I plan on making this a two parter; expect a very steamy part two in about two weeks or so.

Pairing ofc is Roman Sionis and Reader

Word Count: 4180

Rating: T ( i guess??)

Dearest,

Mr. Sionis and I have come to the difficult conclusion that your services are no longer required in an attempt to win the favor of Mr Crone.

Cheers.

✦ ✦

You prided yourself on your ability to handle most situations with a resolute conviction.

Between the piece of work that was your negligent mother and your strained relationship with your difficult father, you’d had more than enough experience with unmanageable situations with unmanageable people.

It was what made working for Roman Sionis so easy. You could handle his emotional outbursts, and you could handle the sadism of everything he and his followers did. Everything they did was just a means to an end, after all.

A terrible, terrible end.

But what could you do? Sionis had effectively found a lonely, capable soul with a tarnished family name and did what he did best: he commandeered your life, and promised that you would have nothing else taken from you.

His only request from you was to do as he said. In a way, it was not unlike the years you had spent appeasing your parents.

Sionis told you where to go, you did what was required, and then some.

What he had given you was more than you had at the time, and you were grateful for his protection, if anything else.

But over the years, you had proven yourself to be a valuable asset to the organization. You were relatively level-headed (compared to your boss), cunning, and resourceful.

It was far more than you could say for some of the bumbling fools Sionis had employed in the past.

Victor Zsasz may have been the watchdog, the right hand man, even, but you were more. Where Victor was graceless and impulsive, you were calculated and swift. Roman had once said that they were your best traits. He had assured you that they made you one of the most important players in his game.

Yet for the third time in the last few months, you were told to back off as negotiator.

The email that you had printed out was clutched by a shaking hand. You couldn’t think of a time when you’d been this angry with him. It was one thing for him to be disparaging; despite his iciness, his words could hardly pierce you. It was something else entirely for him to be so resolute, to snatch your work from under you and watch you fall helplessly.

As you strode to the back of the club, you ignored the greetings that the barkeep had shot your way; it wasn’t often you were in a foul mood, and you hoped he was smart enough to know to leave you alone.

As you began your ascent to the top of the staircase, you felt the paper in your clenched fist practically burn you.

The words from the courier were simple, and very few.

But you knew their weight, just as you knew the weight from the other two messages you'd received recently.

You knew it meant you weren’t to be trusted anymore, and it ignited a fury you couldn’t extinguish.

Your steps were heavy as you stomped up the spiraling staircase, and part of you had wished that they could hear you coming.

All sense of dignity left as you stood before the door to his pad and you pounded your fist against it.

The sound hadn’t even taken him aback, it seemed. When you heard Zsasz swear and cock his gun, you heard Roman merely tame him in response.

“Put it down, Zsasz, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he assured the man.

Nothing to be afraid of, my ass, you thought to yourself as you clutched the paper tighter.

“Is that my sugar plum rapping at my chamber door?” Roman Sionis’s voice called from the inside of the room. Not for the first time, you thought about how satisfying it might be to sucker punch him in the throat.

Victor opened the door and offered a toothy grin in your direction. Before he could quip about your chagrined state, you shoved past him with a low, “Button it, Zsasz.”

The man’s grin fell, and you heard his heavy footsteps follow you as you made your way to Roman’s desk.

The thug in question had his chin in his hand as you approached him. He tried looking child-like in that annoying way he sometimes did. Even after several years, you weren’t sure what was more frightening; his artificial pacification, or his bouts of rage.

You knew just how dangerous Sionis could be. You’d known for years, yet that hadn’t stopped you from snapping at him and challenging him before. Roman was...not a good man. He was capable of pretty fucking horrible things. Hell, you’d seen some of the terrible things he’d done, and heard rumors of far worse. Part of you had wondered what had kept him from lashing out at you.

You’d hiss some poisonous words, and he’d reciprocate before telling you that it would all be okay. That you had nothing to worry your pretty little head about.

The thought of his paternalistic cooing made your lips curl into a grimace.

You didn’t speak, choosing instead to take a moment to calm your heaving chest and boiling blood.

After a few moments, Roman offered a raised brow.

“To what do I owe this...outburst?” he asked.

“Boss,” Victor interrupted cautiously, but Roman held up a gloved hand.

“I’m sure whatever our little lady has to say, she can articulate perfectly without hurting anyone.”

You gritted your teeth at the nickname and the way he spoke of you.

It was like you were pathetic.

You held his curious gaze for a moment longer before the fury inside of you snapped once more.

You slammed the email printout hard upon his desk, not minding that your hand stung from the force.

Roman’s eyes left yours for a split second to look at what you brought before him. He tutted gently, and the condescension wasn’t lost on you.

“You couldn’t CC me in this email, dove?” he asked, and your fingers twitched at the way Victor laughed at the quip.

You were never one to act purely on emotions. Your mother had convinced you that it was a weakness. After seeing how the two men you worked with had acted in moments of passion, you believed her.

But now you shook, unsure of how to properly reign yourself in.

“Explain to me why I’m once again being replaced, ” you said quietly. If you raised your voice, you knew neither of them would take you seriously.

They aren’t taking you seriously now, you reminded yourself. You clenched your jaw at the truth of the statement.

“Sweetling, you have more than enough to deal with right now—” the man started, but you cut him off sharply.

“Don’t you dare start to mollify me like I’m some sort of first week toady of yours, Sionis. I have been working to get this going in our favor for the last three weeks.”

“And what’s come of it?” your boss retorted without a beat.

You blinked at him.

You wanted to reply, to slam your hands down upon the desk again. You felt a slight swell of pride at your ability to restrain yourself.

“From what dear old Silas Crone has told me, you were becoming quite a little problem for him. Not at all what I had in mind.”

He was quiet after that, and you took the moment to think on what he’d said.

You weren’t necessarily doing anything he wouldn’t do. Actually, you were rather diplomatic compared to him. No, this was his way of feeling in control. This was his way of reminding you that he did what he pleased.

“You’re...a spitfire, darling,” Roman continued, leaning back in his chair. “I know you can handle these things, but...I’d hate to see you do something you’d regret.”

You continued to glare at him, so badly wanting to shout.

Instead, you bit the inside of your cheek and nodded. Placating Roman would be the only way to get something akin to a full answer.

“Like what?” you asked after breathing for a moment.

Roman folded his hands neatly.

“Well, for starters, you can be a little...pushy when it comes to offering deals to our potential clients. Losing us certain allies could cost us greatly.”

You didn’t ignore how icy his voice had gotten.

“So, you’d rather I was complacent with their refusal?” you asked, with brows raised.

Roman shook his head.

“Darling,” he said, dragging out the syllables. “I’d rather you use that suggestive force I talk about so much. You don’t need to be incessant, especially when you could use other means to win people’s favor.”

You didn’t need to ask him to elaborate.

It wasn’t fair. You did your job, and you did it well more often than not. You could probably count on one hand the number of clients you’d lost the team. You didn’t need to sell your body to make it happen, either, and he knew that.

“What do I have to do to prove to you that I am more than capable of getting the job done?”

But you knew the answer.

Sionis would never be entirely pleased with what you accomplished, and it was futile to think that you were capable of anything more.

“When you stop going behind my back to do things,” Roman said finally.

You shot him a quizzical look.

“Behind your back?” you asked incredulously.

Roman leaned forward and drummed his fingers upon the paper.

That damned paper.

“You have an...annoying tendency to take matters into your own hands,” he elaborated finally. “Six months ago, it was the bank teller that you put a hit on. Four months ago, it was that journalist that you threatened into submission. Now, you’re insolent enough to go behind my back and interrogate those hookers found with Crone?”

You didn’t respond at first, too dumbfounded to understand his frustration.

“You tell me to finish my job, and that’s what I do,” you retorted. “That’s the way I’ve always done it. ”

“Without me knowing,” Roman said dangerously. “And you’ve been doing it more and more.”

His words had been spoken in an uncharacteristically diplomatic tone, and they were right.

But who cared if you found other ways of getting what you and your organization needed? The job was done, and the loose ends were taken care of with no one the wiser.

Without me knowing.

Your jaw clenched at the implication. You had to go through him to finish your job?

Several years practically running his various operations and you were the one being belittled? Nevermind that he wasted his time on trinkets and sawing faces off. Nevermind that Victor had a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ mentality.

Nevermind that you were shouldering more of the responsibility than was fair.

Your lips twisted into a sneer as you spoke.

“Maybe I make my own decisions because I know how yours usually play out,” you answered coldly. Your fingers curled slightly, wishing that you had your knife in your grasp.

The smile fell from the man’s mouth, and you heard Zsasz shift uncomfortably behind you. Part of you knew that Zsasz wouldn’t dare touch you; you were too important in the great game you all played. But the way Roman was looking now, you almost feared that you’d gone too far.

You were surprised when he didn’t throw something.

Rather, he steepled his fingers and his gaze grew observant.

He may have possessed the emotional capacity of a sleepy kindergartener, but you knew better than anyone that he could be calculating when he wanted to be. It was the only reason he’d made it as far as he had in the criminal underbelly.

“How do mine usually play out?” he challenged you, his voice as sharp as his favorite knife.

You bit the inside of your cheek and closed your eyes.

You were waltzing right into a trap he was setting.

When you opened your eyes, he was still watching you with imploring, cold eyes that dared you to continue.

Your lips twitched.

“You antagonize your enemies and then you play with them. You don’t worry about the repercussions, because you think you’re untouchable! You leave it to me to make sure your ass doesn’t get handed to you by the enemy. That’s why I have to play the way I do!” you said, exasperated.

“Why do you think you’ve made as many allies as you have over the last five years? Because you had me doing the dirty work and making the hard decisions for you! And what do I get? Your ass taking things away from me like I’m some sort of child!”

Your voice was a snarl, and your hands fists. Emotion wasn’t your greatest asset. You knew better than to let him get to you.

Roman’s hands slammed against the desk finally, and you felt yourself jump back slightly.

“Enough,” Roman said, his voice unkind.

He stood up to adjust his blazer, before running a hand through his hair.

He continued to watch you, even as he spoke to the third party in the room.

If you were honest, you’d almost forgotten the little sociopath was still there.

“Victor, would you be a doll and run through that errand list I had you look at earlier? Our sugar plum and I need to have some words alone.”

You couldn’t hide your slight quiver of fear at the way Roman spoke. Sure, you had a tendency to mouth off, but never to this extent. You’d always swallowed your pride when Roman got a little too possessive. You shrugged off the belittlements, and took the fits of anger in stride with the end goal always in mind.

You took the opportunity to pull your gaze away from Roman, and you looked at the other man. Victor’s surprised gaze flickered between Roman and yourself.

Had Zsasz ever spoken back this way? You couldn’t comprehend the man standing up to his boss, probably preferring to placate Roman like he always did.

Bootlicking sycophant.

Finally, he nodded and turned away though not before shooting you a yellow toothed leer.

You watched him step away and slam the door behind him.

With Zsasz gone, you were left alone with the irate businessman.

You’d experienced Roman’s fits dozens of times. Triple that, actually. Probably more.

Very few times had you actually been on the receiving end of his tirades, but this was an entirely different beast.

You finally pulled your gaze from the door and fixed your eyes on the blasted email that had started this all.

“I believe you were in the middle of telling me how wrong I was?” the man said.

You swallowed your fear and looked at him.

He had seated himself once more, and you thought you saw him shake somewhat.

You bit the inside of your cheek, afraid of saying more. What more could you say? You’d already guaranteed yourself some sort of punishment.

No one retaliated against Roman Sionis without repercussions, not even you.

“Go on,” he continued. “Say it!”

It wasn’t the volume of his voice that made you flinch (god knew you heard enough of that), it was how quickly he fell back into his facade of stoicism.

With his adversaries, or the one’s you’d witnessed, he toyed and played with them until they were assuaged enough to believe it was in their favor.

It was then that he struck.

You couldn’t be sure what he was doing now.

You looked back at the damned piece of paper that still lay before you, and felt your conviction build once more.

Fine.

If he really wanted to hear it, you certainly wouldn’t disappoint.

You braced yourself against his desk, and leaned in. Your voice was dangerous, yet somehow he remained unaffected.

“You gave me a job to do, no matter what it took. I did what was asked of me like I always do. And yet, you’re ungrateful for how fucking hard I work to appease you.”

The man’s lips twitched, and you wondered just how deep under his skin you had gotten yourself.

“I don’t need to run every one of my choices past you, Sionis,” you reminded him.

When you saw something glint maliciously in his eyes, you wondered if this would be when he finally ended you.

He stood up from his seat again to mirror your position against the desk.

His gloved fingers just barely brushed past yours, and you considered pulling your knife out to pin his hand to the lovely oak that made up his work space.

“Every little thing you do goes through me, sugar,” he said coldly.

“Every time you breathe, I know about it. Every time you pay off that house loan, I know about it. Every time you choose to disobey me, I know about it. You aren’t nearly as careful as you think you are.”

His voice was positively venomous.

Your glower deepened, and your knuckles turned white from how hard they were clenched.

“And next time, you will tell me before you make another idiotic decision like that,” Roman hissed.

When you moved to stand back, his hand grabbed your wrist and held it in place.

“Consider this your only warning, sugar plum. Insubordination is not something I take lightly.”

You looked down at his grip on your wrist before meeting his eyes. Your lips curled slightly.

“Thank you for your leniency, Mr. Sionis,” you said with disdain. “Now may I please have my hand back?”

You could feel Roman’s eyes on you as you strode to the door, but you stopped yourself when you heard him speak up.

“Don’t be like that,” he began, his voice returning to its fun tambre.

Your eye twitched as you regarded him.

“Just listen to me. That’s all I ask,” he continued.

You didn’t stop yourself from stalking over to his desk again. The voice in your head shouted at you to back down; he had only given you one warning, after all. There wasn’t anything you could say to change what had happened.

You looked back down at the desk and saw that the print out was still there.

You lunged for the paper, but Roman was faster; before you could think, he had pulled it out of your grasp.

It was your turn to slam your hand on the desk, and Roman laughed slightly at that. You moved your way around his desk to snatch it from him, but he lifted it above his head.

You started to engage in a childish game, with you doing your damndest to win at something today, but to no avail.

After an embarrassing attempt to gain what little dignity you could, you stopped when you felt the concrete of the wall against your back.

Roman laughed again.

“All this for a few little words? So many angry things said because you didn’t like an email you got,” Roman said lowly. He tutted once more as he leaned in, with one forearm braced against the wall.

“Disobedience doesn’t suit you, sweetling. You know better than to act out like that,” he said, quieter this time.

You ignored his gaze and his comment; you tried to pull away to leave, when you were stopped.

His other hand shot out and blocked your exit, and you noticed that he had taken his gloves off.

“You know I worry about you,” he cooed. “How can I keep my best girl if I don’t know where she’s going? What she’s doing? When she defies me.”

You could ignore his tone, and you could ignore his patronizing words.

You couldn’t ignore the way his finger traced the outline of your lips.

It was a soft gesture, but this was Roman Sionis.

You moved to push his hand away, but Roman was faster; he grabbed your offending hand, and then the other one. He shoved your wrists beside your head and leaned in closely.

“When you started, you told me you’d obey me. Oh, I know!” he said suddenly, his voice jumping an octave. “It’s like a— a marriage,” he continued. “Think of what we have as a little marriage. You honor me, and you obey me. You hold to your vows, and I’ll hold to mine. I’ll protect you. I’ll take care of you. I’ll provide for you.”

You felt a gentle tap on your nose when he spoke next.

“We work together. We both contribute to this partnership. That way, Zsasz, and Crone, and all of our little followers see that mommy and daddy are working in their best interest. Then, they stay loyal.”

You didn’t meet his eyes at first. You’d known how fucked up your situation with him was when you had started all those years ago. It wasn’t until now that you realized the truth of his words.

It was exactly like a fucked up little marriage, and you had no way out.

“It’s not like I have much autonomy, anyway,” you said stiffly. You held his darkening gaze while his other hand moved to run down your jawline.

“Baby, you don’t need autonomy while I’m around. Haven’t I taught you that lesson already?” he asked.

His tone was soft, but the grip that had settled on your jaw was not.

“I think you’re too much of a control freak,” he continued, his voice just a harsh whisper in your ear.

You laughed hollowly at that.

You moved your head so you were eye to eye and you could swear you saw his resolve faltering; beneath you, you felt his knee settle between your legs.

You couldn’t move.

“You’re the last person who should lecture me on control,” you hissed. You tried tugging your hands back, but he just pressed them harder into the wall. You wanted to lunge at him when he started laughing.

“Darling, I’m the only one who can lecture you on control,” Roman said, his lips ghosting from yours, to the highest point of your cheekbone, before settling on your jaw.

You hated the proximity between your bodies, but you hated your reaction to it even more.

You tried to steady your breathing, even as a whisper of a kiss landed on the bottom of your jaw.

Was this to be your life? To submit to people who protected and manipulated you? To follow them to the ends of the earth because you couldn’t find anything better?

The assault on your neck continued, but just as gently as the first kiss had been. You were still braced against the wall, but your body had slumped slightly.

Then, something came to mind.

You had intended on leaving with some dignity, and maybe, you could leave with it.

You didn’t make a habit of it, but once or twice you had envisioned giving him a piece of your mind with the suggestive force he so badly wanted you to use.

You moved your head to the side slightly and saw him looking up from where he was. Slowly, he straightened up and his free hand came to grip your head.

“What’s the first lesson?” you asked. You had said it so quietly, that you weren’t sure if he had heard it. He pulled away to watch you carefully, searching your face for any sort of falsity.

When you continued to look at him with challenging eyes, you saw the corners of his lips twitch.

“I’m not sure I have enough time in the world to teach you properly,” he said quietly. His fingers tangled in your hair and gripped roughly.

You remained unfaltering, and you looked at him almost expectantly.

Then get started, you wanted to say.

Instead, you quirked a brow slightly.

He wasn’t stupid. He was paranoid, and you were almost certain that he’d weighed the options before him.

But was also a hedonist, who had to feel in control.

Oh, how you would show him.

He wasted no more time after that, and he leaned in to take your bottom lip between his teeth. He began pulling harder on your hair, and you couldn’t help the gasp you had released. It had been silenced, though, when he pressed his mouth roughly to yours.

At some point, his grip had loosened on your head, as well as your wrists.

When you had attempted to free your wrists, however, you felt his hands return to yours.

His grip remained firm, but the feeling was soon replaced by something much softer. You opened your eyes and pulled away; your wrists had been bound deftly by his scarf. When you looked up at him, he was watching you hungrily.

“The first lesson is to do as you’re told,” he said finally, before pulling away from you to grab you by the arm; you hadn’t spent a terrible amount in his place, but you had a feeling you knew where he was taking you.

#*hides in shame*#roman sionis #black mask #birds of prey #bop #birds of prey fanfiction #roman sionis x reader #The ending was rushed but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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crimeronan · 5 years

Text

i like to imagine that in a verse where everyone’s cohabitating semi-peacefully at the barns and not facing constant supernatural threats of annihilation, hennessy and declan don’t really get along - they don’t actively try to kill each other or pick fights, but each kind of edges around the other like wary feral cats who are ready to hiss and claw and defend territory at a moment’s notice

and then one day hennessy steals a six thousand dollar bottle of scotch from the liquor store twenty minutes away because she occasionally needs to feel alive when surrounded by cows. she desperately wants to show off her prize but feels it would be a dick move to do to ronan (she acknowledges his sobriety and doesn’t want to fuck it up even if she’d rather pull out her own teeth than admit she gives a shit) and jordan is off on some weekend outing with matthew

so she finds declan and is like. guess who’s got the good shit. i know you’re a stick in the mud and the worst company in the world but let’s get blitzed

declan doesn’t really let himself get inebriated because it’s too important that he’s in control and ready to act at a moment’s notice at all times, and he can’t let his judgment or impulses be compromised, but. it’s the barns. everyone’s safe. also that’s damn good scotch and he privately enjoys the idea of digesting evidence of a felony. declan too enjoys the occasional stupid impulsive nonviolent criminal act to feel alive

so. these two basically siblings-in-law drink. hennessy expects declan to insist on being classy and using glasses but instead they end up laying on the lawn passing the bottle back and forth and silently daring each other to take increasingly large swigs while making up new wildly inappropriate names for the deer and sheep

like halfway deep into the bottle hennessy’s like “to being the product of trauma and negligent parenting. cheers” and declan’s like “FUCK my dad” and hennessy, fascinated by the most emotion she’s ever seen declan express, is like “preach” and then declan RANTS half eloquent half rambling all slurring and utterly useless. hennessy is suddenly having an even better time than she did when she climbed through the back window of the liquor store to rifle through their unlocked inventory

jordan gets back with matthew not too much later in the evening and finds hennessy and declan still laying in the lawn. ronan comes down to give matthew a noogie and also finds hennessy and declan still laying in the lawn. he and jordan exchange a Look and then go to investigate

hennessy sits up extremely mussed, makeup streaked, bits of grass in her hair, just. just radiating drunk oracle of delphi benign goddess outside a shitty club bathroom. and announces “you didn’t tell me he’s FUN”

neither ronan nor jordan is sure which of them she’s talking to. probably both

jordan squats down near declan and touches his face and is like “uh. i think he might be dying”

“he CANNOT,” hennessy slurs, magnificently drunk but not as drunk as declan who is barely conscious, “hold his liquor”

ronan is slightly pleased by this. he’s sober and all but it is nice to know that he’s capable of drinking declan under a table like four times over. it’s the little things that count

jordan’s like “no seriously, how do you tell if someone’s been alcohol poisoned”

“he’s fine” ronan says

“i think?? i should get him inside??”

“absolutely not” ronan says. “since when is his dumbassery your problem”

jordan’s like uh since we officially called it a committed relationship but she doesn’t say that out loud because she appreciates this sentiment in theory. hennessy grabs ronan’s hand and pulls herself to her feet with a lot of stumbling and sloshy noises

“hypocruit” she says. she does not seem interested in trying to pronounce the word correctly. “your gansey would’ve brought you inside. rude”

ronan honestly can’t decide if he’s annoyed that she’s using gansey to make a valid point or if he’s warmed by the fact that she’s listened closely enough to his anecdotes about gansey for her drunk-ass self to make a valid point. this mixture of emotion is how he ends up feeling about like 80% of things hennessy does

declan moans, which is encouraging inasmuch as it means he’s still alive. then he promptly rolls over and pukes all over hennessy’s shoes. her facial expression is the dictionary definition of “disgusted regret”

ronan pats her. he and jordan have come through miraculously out of the splash zone. gloriously unscathed. “you deserved that”

“i feel better now” declan mumbles, still on the ground, sounding like a freshman year theater major playacting shakespearean misery

jordan drags him over to a less horrifying patch of lawn and plops down on the grass. “i need to get you inside and to bed,” she tells declan, “but before that, i need to figure out the best way to use this for blackmail. you’re never gonna live it down mate”

declan mumbles something that might be “you’re pretty” or possibly “i’m shitty” or, equally likely, “you’re shitty”

“i have so much material” hennessy says

jordan and ronan’s gazes both snap to her. they are vampiric in their focused hunger

“and neither of you is learning ANY OF IT. cause otherwise he’ll never get drunk with me again. and he’s cool. hey. hey. why isn’t there a bed out here. bring me a bed. i want a feather pillow”

hennessy has acquainted herself with the luxury of cozy sleep since experiencing the novelty of NOT being psychologically eaten by a manifestation of hatred and contempt every time she closes her eyes. drunk hennessy is singlemindedly focused on this objective. feather pillows are lit

ronan’s like “i’ll do you one better and bring you TO a bed” and helps her severely wobbly listing self into the house

the next day there’s a zoomed-out camera phone shaky handheld video of this drunk conglomeration uploaded to matthew lynch’s tiktok. there’s nothing remarkable about it except that the background music is sail by awolnation and the first “SAIL” has been timed to declan’s retching. within six hours it has 200k views

everyone is in hell

#this was gonna start out very quick headcanon and then i just typed for forty minutes instead so all right #cdth #jordeclan #the lynch brothers #horrible nightmare trauma pals #my writing #long post #lou and i yelled back and forth about this concept on telegram a couple weeks ago but here it is in actual readable format #alcohol -#vomit -#eta as actual meta i don't want declan to live at the barns i'd like him to be allowed to flourish as far away as possible. however #it was easily the funniest setting for this thought. hennessy surrounded by cows and sheep like ok i'm losing my fucking mind

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ionlyeatcomfortfood · 5 years

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A Boy Worth Fighting For- Part 1

A/N: So, my brain came up with another idea so here we are. I need to work on impulse control. And it turned out to be a lot of angst. Oops.

Also it might seem like Logan’s experiences are extreme, which they are, but a lot of the stuff that happens to him in his exposition is what has happened to me and my friends. So.

And I know I keep having parts to the story then they never update I’m sorry I’m working on it.

Also funny thing, when I was using a last name generator to come with names, ‘Gay’ came up and I was like: yep. that’s them.

Word Count: 1156

Pairing: Romantic LAMP

Warnings: Negligence, bullying, verbal abuse, The Duke/Remus, Deceit, homophobic language, violence

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

You’re only supposed to have one soulmate.

When you are born, there’s a tattoo that represents your soulmate somewhere on your body. When you meet them, the tattoo starts to tingle and it changes into a vivid masterpiece. Everyone has is in a different spot, and no two tattoos are the same.

When Logan Sanders was born, he had three soulmarks.

His family was not happy. They thought that having multiple soulmarks made him unclean, dirty. They thought he was wrong.

But, they couldn’t get rid of the boy, so they just acted as if they had gotten rid of him. To them, Logan did not exist. He was just a whisper, never truly there and gone within a moment.

Because of this, Logan had to grow up incredibly fast to be able to take care of himself. He taught himself how to cook. He entertained himself by reading, getting lost in worlds and realities so much better than his own. When Logan was hurt, he put on a bandage himself. He knew unlike other kids, Mommy wasn’t going to kiss it better.

School was difficult. Children have no filter, so when they saw Logan tattoos, they stared and stared, some saying things like “Wait, why do you have more than one?” and “Isn’t that weird?”

Then, as he got older, people started saying things. Awful things, like how Logan was a mistake, or that he should just go away, he was making them uncomfortable.

He didn’t have any friends. Even if they didn’t agree with all the hateful things, they didn’t want to get in the crossfire.

Middle school started, and words were thrown out carelessly and so were punches. Almost everyday he would walk home (yes, he had to walk) with a new injury.

He learned to take it. The scorn. The obvious hatred projected by his peers. The punches, the kicks, the words, he learned to take the hits and survive. He didn’t have friends to talk to, so he kept it all inside. Logan used to cry when he got home, not understanding why having more soulmarks made him a freak. Then the tears dried up and so did his compassion and empathy.

He became cold. Logical. Never portraying any emotion other than an emotional disconnection. No one wanted to have anything to do with him, which is what he wanted.

Right?

—————–

Logan was working on a worksheet in Calculus when he met his first soulmate.

He was almost done with worksheet, a breeze as always, when he heard a vivacious voice say “Hello Mrs. Davids! I’m just here to drop off my homework!”

Logan glanced up to see the most adorable boy ever in front of him.

Curly dirty blond lock rested on his forehead, his face filled with freckles. He had a soft, heart-shaped face with the most dazzling blue eyes. The boy wore a pale blue shirt that complemented his eyes and a pastel pink skirt. How had Logan never seen him before?

Then he felt a little tingle on his chest, where one of his soulmarks were, a simple heart.

Oh no. No, no, no, this is not happening. Logan thought to himself frantically. I am not meeting my first soulmate in the middle of math class.

The boy obviously was feeling it too. His eyes scanned the room, looking for his soulmate. His light blue eyes met Logan’s dark ones, and Logan knew he was screwed.

“Hey Mrs. Davids?” The boy just managed to pry his eyes away from Logan’s. That did not make him upset I have no idea what you’re insinuating.

“Yes, Patton?” Mrs. Davids asked. Ah. So that was his name.

“Can I borrow Logan for a minute? We have a group project to work on, and I need to talk to him really quick.”

“Can’t you do that on your own time?” Mrs. Davids raised an eyebrow.

“It’s important. And it’ll only take a couple minutes.”

“Besides, I only have one more problem left.” Logan said. Wait. Why was he going along with this? Rationality had been figuratively thrown out the window, so he just followed what Patton had been saying.

Mrs. Davids, not an oblivious teacher, had caught on to what was happening. But she wasn’t going to get in the way of their high school romance, so she said “Alright. Five minutes. Then come back in, Logan. You hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Logan said, following Patton out of the classroom. Nobody gave them a second glance. They were all too concerned with how badly they were going to flunk the next test.

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

As soon as they got into the hallway, Patton literally started jumping for joy.

“Oh my gosh! I have a soulmate! And it’s you! This is all so exciting! We can go on dates and find our other soulmates, and-”

“Patton. Wait,” Logan didn’t believe what he had just heard. His next sentence came out in a murmur, almost too soft to be heard. “You have multiple soulmarks as well?”

“Yeah. We’re soulmates. It would make sense that we have the same amount of soulmarks- Logan? What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re crying.” Patton gestured Logan’s face. Logan put a hand up to feel tears running down his cheeks. “What?”

“It’s okay, Logan.” Patton placed a caring hand on Logan’s arm. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“It’s just… I thought I was the only one. With multiple soulmarks. I thought I was alone,” Logan hadn’t meant to say that. But he did. Why had he said that?

“Oh Logan,” Patton said sweetly, coated with sympathy. He pulled Logan into a hug. “You’re not alone. Not anymore. I’m here for you.”

He felt himself leaning into Patton. What? Why was he doing this? This behavior was highly irregular. He would have to assess this situation later.

Patton finally let go of Logan, saying “You should get back to class.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Logan mumbled. Geez, what Patton doing to him? He didn’t mumble.

Logan turned to go back into the classroom when Patton caught his wrist. “Hey, um,” Patton was bashful, staring down at the floor. Why did that make Logan’s heart flutter? What was going on? “Can we, um, hang out later?”

“Of course,” Logan could have stopped there, but his big mouth just kept going. “Best to hang out after school, though. I don’t want kids to make fun of you too.”

“What? People make fun of you?” Patton’s face melted into one of concern.

“Look, we can discuss this later. Meet me at the lion statue out front and we can go to my house,” Logan had finally gotten a hold of himself, and was back to his usual cold and unfeeling persona.

“Okay,” Patton responded hesitantly. “See you later than?”

“Yes.” Logan very slowly took his wrist back from Patton and went back into the classroom, leaving the pastel clad boy alone in the hallway.

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

For those people who for some reason want to be tagged in my writing.

@jellopuffs

@loginceismyjam

@steampunkicarus

@redistooviolent

@hekking-happy-nonsense

@bookwyrminspiration

Let me know if you want tagging.

Also, there will be more! Don’t worry!

#ts sanders sides #sanders sides #sanders side fic #lamp #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #dukedontlook #roman sanders #angst

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mysteriomanifesto · 5 years

Text

The straw that breaks the camel’s back (1 / 2)

Having slunk back to the deserted office space, Quentin notes the remnants of party streamers and empty red party cups on some of the workstations ( sloppy ), the developer having missed out on his team’s holiday revelries in favour of working remotely from his makeshift ‘home’ before begrudgingly accepting the invitation to the party at Avengers Tower. A folded green crown consisting of flimsy tissue paper had been placed at his personal workspace ( a consolation prize ), digits taking a hold of it to bemusedly place it upon his head ( regardless of his disinclination, he needed a bit of holiday cheer ).

Pensively turning it over in his hand, the encrypted drive provided by Stark is inserted into the computer, the engineer settling into the office chair as caution inevitably sets in - booting up a sandboxing environment to isolate the device, the machine is disconnected from the rest of his work network ( suspicion was a terrible thing ). Dexterous fingertips glide over the keyboard and Beck begins breezing through the multitude of digital barriers that had been setup on the device, teasing breadcrumbs seemingly laid out for the developer in a manner that only he would be able to progress through, clues that echo a number of old memories during his time at Stark Industries. He would pause to reminisce but the man’s too busy enjoying the challenge at hand, each one eliciting a broadening of his smug smile until---

A 12 minute media file is his final prize, its date of creation and modification set to Christmas Day 2017 - a curious eye casts over the title ( AC/DC - Shoot to Thrill ) before pressing play, an inward groan arising as the heavy guitars inevitably assault his senses ( he hated the aging band with a passion ). A few boredom inducing seconds pass during which the engineer considers pausing the video when the music fades, colour emerging onto a blank screen as a familiar voice candidly addresses him.

“Hi...” Tony faces straight into the camera, a lopsided grin coupled with a raise of his dark brow.

Despite the men’s awkward conversation within the last few hours burdened by avoidant gazes and terse words, for a moment ( no matter how brief ) Quentin feels as if the futurist is addressing him directly with such familiarity for the first time in years. He rambles for a short period, telltale signs of anxiety hidden behind overcompensating extroverted gestures and speech patterns ( Quentin knows when Tony's nervous ), but Beck doesn't mind, finding his uneasy expression evolving into a hint of a smile - there’s a distinct swell of emotion which he had convinced himself into thinking that he no longer possessed ( fondness was a tricky thing, given their circumstances ). And then things start to get interesting...

“...you’ve been looking for something. I don’t know if it’s a purpose or if it’s just some guidance but I know that you were. Nobody told me… it’s just the type of person you always were. Ambitious, driven and determined to be the best...”

Quentin stills, the complimentary words echoing assessments of the engineer over the years from a range of mentors spanning from primary school all the way up to post-grad days. However, they were often conversely counterbalanced with negative traits that he was told to work on ( egotistical, lacking empathy, hostile when challenged... ). But there's no sign of that here, instead the brunet enjoying the sensation of having his ego stroked, basking in the reverence that he always craves ( it’s what he deserves ).

"...you know how much of an impression you made on my life? Regardless of the work you did for my company, but also the person you are. The type of personality you have is truly captivating and ever since that day we parted ways… there was one thing that stuck with me...”

There’s an uncomfortable pause as Tony’s expression falls, the man reciting a few key familiar sentences that see blue eyes despondently lowering in recollection.

“This means everything to me. I’ve given my best years to its development. I sacrificed weddings, funerals and Bar Mitzvahs. But that doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?"

Beck bites down on his inner cheek as his own words from after the MIT demo are reflected back to him, swallowing down any undesirable sense of remorse. It wasn't his proudest moment, the man having completely lost control as impulses ran into overdrive to give the billionaire a piece of his mind, supposed negligence perceived amidst heightened paranoia. Years may have passed but Beck didn't regret doing so at the expense of their working relationship - sometimes it was best to get everything out in the open to know the true intention and feelings of others ( no matter how painfully disappointing ).

" ...the mere fact that you thought of me as this heartless, self-centred person. I struggled with that idea for a really long time. Not only did it strike a chord, but it also made me feel like I was truly becoming my father…"

Quentin's brain switches off for a moment, attention diverting to a nearby bottle of nondescript amber beverage which had been idly left there ( it might be tequila? ). If this segment of the video was going to turn into another guilt-driven digression of Tony's about Howard Stark, the brunet wouldn't be above skipping it ( he doesn't care, it's boring, get over it - he had problems with his own father but he doesn’t bitch about it all the time, not repeatedly using the broken relationship as an excuse for the decisions he makes in his life - have some accountability for fuck’s sake ). Unscrewing the cap and taking a tentative sip, Beck's features twist in shuddering distaste ( yep, definitely tequila ), soon taking another swig to help take the edge off. Good timing too as the other man's self-aware spiel about the senior Stark finally draws to an end, segueing into something of more intrigue.

“...nobody knows about this... This was under strict supervision… On this operating system you opened, there’s only one more file. It’s a quarter of the code you wrote for your illusion technology prototype… giving you the code is going against everything my company’s lawyers swear against---"

The video is abruptly paused with a flick of Beck’s wrist, the unwanted distraction of the bottle pushed to one side, the emergence of a second hidden file drawing his primary attention. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the revelation ( or perhaps a combination of both ), but Quentin can feel his heart pounding against his temples, his breath quickening as blue eyes frantically scan the reams of code embedded in the system just for him. Based on what he sees, it doesn’t feel like a quarter of the code ( considerably less ), disjointed syntax missing vital elements to tie is altogether - he notes the header comments present for each section of painstakingly prolonged algorithms ( PROPERTY OF STARK INDUSTRIES ), copyright and authorship continually stripping and omitting Beck from the list of accredited developers regardless of the futurist’s words of placation. Quentin’s fist firmly clenches around the ergonomic mouse being used at the terminal, audible strain suddenly evident as one of the embedded buttons pops out of place.

“But I can’t hold onto something that was never truly mine. It might be a quarter, but that’s a start, right? I’ve fought tooth and nail to get everything back to you and I was told only under extreme circumstances would they allow it… So, the day I die, you get everything you’ve worked for, back. Could be tomorrow, could be in 10 years. But on that day you can have everything back. If this is not what you wanted from me---”

Quentin had stopped listening several sentences ago, an eerie blankness to his expression that sees him slowly blink, soon stopping the video entirely - desperately scrolling back to the beginning, he watches it again. Twice. Thrice. More time is divulged poking and prodding at the inner workings of the encrypted device for hours to come ( maybe he had missed something? ), hoping to find something else that would ease this growing disquiet sensation. There’s nothing else, the man forgetting to breathe at regular intervals in his steadily flourishing rage, a pocket of air trapped at the back of his throat as his visage grows increasingly incensed.

Taking a hold of his phone to delve into his list of contacts while adjusting his headset, Beck’s thinly veiled resolve completely crumbles and something finally snaps.

[ PART 2 ]

#one shot #🔮: Mysterious Things #mark xlvl #post-#fao: stark holiday party #//namely the thread with Tony #//a big thank you to Skye for providing me with #//A Lot to work with for this <3 #//the video dialogue was twice as long but #//ofc Quentin only focuses on certain parts :''')#//sigh It Begins

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ladylilithprime · 6 years

Text

Sastiel Creations Challenge | @ladylilithprime

↳ Theme: One More | Prompt: Day

Fluff Bingo Square: Movie Night

=I Did Not Live Until Today=

Read on AO3

MOVIE NIGHT IN the Bunker had been originally instituted by Dean, and the insistence of Sam that everyone in the Bunker, especially a stressed out and overworked teenaged Prophet of the Lord, needed to take regular breaks to relax and unwind before the constant "go, go, go" made them all go crazy. Hunts would occasionally interrupt the ritual, postpone it for a couple of days, but none of them were allowed more than ten days without a mandatory Movie Night. Dean had insisted that Castiel join these movie nights whenever he was around, intent on "educating" the Angel in what he termed the "classics" of cinema. Castiel had confided privately to Sam that, upon viewing these so-called classics, he was gaining more of an understanding of Dean than he was of why the movies were classical, which Sam had assured him was normal.

Movie Night had been weird after the Trials, because Sam would start out watching the movie with Dean and whoever else was there, but suddenly it would be hours later and he wouldn't remember actually watching any of it despite not having moved. In the wake of Crowley showing up in Sam's head with the brothers' code word tripping off his tongue to warn him that he had an angelic passenger who had taken over the driver's seat, Sam figured he knew what had happened and maybe he felt a little tiny flicker of gratitude for Gadreel sparing him having to watch the monkey movies again, but that was drowned out by the overall feelings of shock and betrayal and rage because how could Dean do this to him?!

It was Sam's decision to continue Movie Night even though it was just him and Castiel in the Bunker now. The original purpose of enforcing a break on overworked humans was still valid, even though now the overworked human was only Sam, and the secondary purpose of introducing Castiel to human entertainment was also still in effect, perhaps even more so after Metatron had downloaded a huge selection of American pop culture into Castiel's head without much in the way of context. Without Dean to steer the selection towards action films and neither of them particularly interested in watching mindless violence and gore, plus Sam's increased aversion to psychological horror films, the movies they watched tended to veer more towards musicals. If Castiel suspected that this, too, might be a bit of Sam's rebellion against Dean's stubborn adherence to mullet rock as the only valid music to listen to, well, he didn't call Sam on it and Sam didn't choose to admit anything.

Tonight was another designated Movie Night, not because it had been too long since the last, but because Sam knew that after the failure of the tracking spell with Gadreel's extracted Grace he, at least, needed something where the fate of the world was less dependant on the outcome. In hindsight, queueing up Les Miserábles was probably not the best idea given the overall setting of the movie and the themes of melancholy and grief that pervaded it, but he suspected Castiel would appreciate the other themes of faith and sacrifice and second chances.

He probably should have expected Castiel's analysis of the story's themes to extend to their lives, but somehow it didn't even occur to him until Castiel blindsided him with an abrupt declaration that Jean Valjean reminded him of Sam.

"I'm sorry?" Sam blurted, not sure he had heard the Angel correctly.

"He is a good man who committed criminal acts for a good cause and was harshly punished for it even after his incarceration ended," Castiel explained, gesturing to the screen where Valjean's pay was docked in front of the other workers, who were openly hostile. "It does not matter to these people that his intentions were noble - to feed his family - or that the crime was relatively minor, all they see is the criminal record and discount the good heart of the man who committed it and is stained by that record in the eyes of the society he serves."

"Cas, that's not... I started the Apocalypse!" Sam said, shaking his head. "That's a good bit worse than stealing a loaf of bread and running."

"You killed a demon," Castiel disagreed. "A demon you had been told by everyone around you was responsible for breaking Seals and that killing her would stop things. You were deliberately not told that she was the final Seal and that killing her would release Lucifer because enough angels, myself included, believed that if you knew the truth then you would not have killed her. Yet you do not blame me for lying to you, or for changing my mind and breaking through my conditioning too late to send Dean in time to stop you. Nor do you blame Dean for breaking under Alistair and being the one to break the first Seal which set things in motion. Instead, you continue to allow people, including Dean who should really know better, to cast the blame for things beyond your control onto your shoulders and even take on blame and responsibility where there should be none, forgetting that any penance required for playing a part long ago set out for you has been more than served."

Sam looked away from Castiel's placid, deeply knowing expression, but found he couldn't focus on the screen until a flash of silver catching light drew his attention. "Look, I don't... whatever redemption I might have earned with jumping has to be cancelled out by the things I did after getting out again, especially all the crap I pulled without my soul--"

"Do you think yourself responsible for your soulless self's actions, even though your soul was still in the Cage being subjected to Michael and Lucifer's torments?" Sam frowned a little at the low notes of guilt and sorrow in the Angel's voice and looked over, but Castiel wouldn't meet his eyes, staring instead at the screen as the old priest backed up Valjean's lie of gifted silver and gave over the candlesticks as well. "Hm. Heaven has not treated you nearly so kindly as this priest does..."

"Castiel," Sam started to reach out, but found his courage falter and lowered his hand with a sigh. "I know you didn't leave my soul behind on purpose. I knew it then, too, even with you keeping secrets and never having mentioned it before that moment... sorry, too, about the holy fire."

"There is no apology necessary," Castiel refuted, though Sam thought he looked moderately grateful for it anyway. "You were right to be suspicious of my actions and motives at the time, if not for that specific reason."

"Still..."

"Sam, I assure you, I hold no ill will over your suspicion of me, nor for your actions to try and stop me. If anything, I am deeply grateful for your continued faith in me even after I had gone off the reservation and done you considerable harm." Castiel shook his head. "We are getting away from the main subject, which is that you are not responsible for the actions your body committed without your soul present."

"It was still my body," Sam argued. "My... impulses or whatever, stripped of my inhibitions--"

"Not true," Castiel interrupted. "Stripped of your higher empathic functions and natural moral compass that is your soul, your body behaved with logical precision not unlike how most Angels would act. While that behavior likely seemed heartless or 'dickish' at times, this was in part because of the contrast to your usual compassion and kindness, but you weren't actively malicious or uncontrolled. Everything, including the decision to go to Dean with the suspicion that something was wrong and to ask him to be your moral compass, was meticulously and logically thought out and reasoned for the most optimal outcome. Recall that your soulless self felt that it was for the best that your soul be retrieved and rejoined with your body, and only rejected the plan when the possibility that doing so would kill you was presented."

"Whereupon I promptly tried to kill Bobby! Cas--"

"Sam," Castiel turned fully to face him and glared at him in a way that reminded Sam forcefully of the fact that this was an Angel of the Lord. "You. Are. Not. To. Blame. Your soulless self attempted to kill a man who showed every sign of being ready to kill you by forcefully reuniting your damaged soul with your body. A soul, I must add, which did not deserve the torment inflicted upon it and to which we owed the continued existence of the human race."

"I was just--"

"Cleaning up your mess, so you've said." Castiel was beginning to look frustrated. "But the Apocalypse was not just your mess. It was Dean's, and mine, and Lucifer's, and Michael's, and every angel and demon and human servant of either side who worked towards setting it off earlier than my Father planned. I would even venture to say that it was my Father's fault for refusing to step in when, despite Raphael's delusions, we had very clear evidence from Joshua that He is still alive and close enough to be aware of the situation." The Angel reached forward then and covered the shell-shocked human's nearest hand with his own. "Your soulless self recognized that, and recognized the unfair imbalance, and quite rightly called us out on our lack of respect for you and your sacrifices. Since regaining your soul, Dean's insistence on leaving past transgressions in the past except when it suits him to drag them out as evidence of culpability and questionable judgement has driven your self-confidence down to the point where you have even allowed Dean to make you believe yourself at fault for not looking for a brother and non-human friend whom you had every reason to believe were dead and at peace.

"No more," Castiel said with a fire in his vessel's blue eyes that had nothing to do with his borrowed Grace. "Sam Winchester, you will listen to me and believe this if nothing else: You. Deserve. Respect. And for my part in allowing others to be negligent in giving you that respect, you have my apologies."

For a long moment, Sam could do nothing more than stare at Castiel, stunned speechless and feeling more than a few echoes of the old awe and wonder with which he had first viewed this Angel of the Lord who had saved his big brother from Hell. It seemed impossible to believe, even with Castiel staring into him and all but demanding that he do so. For all he knew, he had fallen asleep on the couch next to Castiel and all of this was somehow some sort of incredibly vivid dream like the ones he tried to pretend he didn't have about the Angel, because if anything stood a chance at making their current arrangement far more awkward than it ever needed to be....

Castiel must have seen something of his thoughts in his expression, because the intensity faded into sadness and then, before Sam could gather his wits enough to try and reassure him, turned to resolve. "I will remind you of this conversation later, so as to establish better credibility."

"Um..." Sam blinked. That was unexpected. "Okay? Thanks? I'll... work on believing you, Cas, I will, I just...."

"Have several years of conditioning for expecting the worst to work around, as well as the more recent problems with maintained perception of reality," Castiel nodded. "I will remind you as often as is necessary of your worth and worthiness."

Sam nodded, more for the lack of any other way to acknowledge Castiel's words than out of agreement or understanding, jumping a little when the music from the television screen picked up in volume. He turned back to the movie, flushing darkly when he realized that they'd completely missed Fantine's entire arc and Valjean's crisis of conscience, and reached for the remote. "Oh, hey, let me--"

"No, it's--" Castiel's grip on Sam's hand tightened, then released with enough abruptness that Sam found himself stopping anyway, turning questioning eyes on Castiel. "I confess that I have been, ah, 'cheating' with this film, as it is one of the stories that Metatron saw fit to share, though not this particular version."

"Should we put on something else?"

"If that is what you prefer. I am enjoying watching it with you regardless."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if that was because of Castiel's bizarre comparisons between Sam and Valjean, but he swallowed it back and instead forced himself to settle back into the couch beside Castiel to watch the introduction to the Thénardier family and Cosette. The silence stretched between them as the music played, until--

"Sam? Why is Thénardier's wife making that gesture when she sings that there is 'not much there'?"

Sam swallowed down the urge to choke or laugh, because of course Castiel would ask about that. He cut a sharp glance in the Angel's direction to check if he was being trolled, but Castiel's expression showed only genuine puzzlement. "Uh... Well, I mean, uh... some guys get kinda hung up on penis size, uh, taking the whole 'bigger is better' idea way too seriously and, uh, thinking that bigger size makes them better able to please their partners, which, uh, really isn't true across the board. And, uh, there are a lot of guys who think that having those, um, extra inches is all they need for it to be good for their partner, which also isn't true." He found himself looking at the screen in a gambit to not have to meet Castiel's eyes, and moments later he pointed. "See, she's saying the line again without the gesture. So, uh, the implication is Thénardier falls doubly short of the mark."

"I see," Castiel said, his tone meditative. With his eyes averted, Sam couldn't see the speculative look the Angel sent in his direction, though he definitely heard the pointedly dry tone when Castiel added, "Mrs Thénardier would do better to find a more skilled pizza man."

Sam jerked his head around to stare at Castiel again, but this time the Angel's expression was the same sort of bland that he used when trolling Dean, and so Sam managed to force out a chuckle for the joke before settling in to watch the dynamics between the Thénardiers and Cosette with its very Cinderella vibe. Castiel muttered something about "punching John Winchester again" that made no sense and Sam wasn't sure he wanted to know about anyway, and then made a brief comment about Cosette's dream being similar to many human interpretations of Heaven, but otherwise said nothing until Valjean told Cosette that he was now her father.

"Another parallel," he said. Sam, who had hoped Castiel had forgotten about his weird fixation by this point, blinked in confusion.

"Uh, Cas, I'm pretty sure I haven't gone and adopted any random kids," he pointed out. Really, that seemed more like something Dean would do than him, Dean actually really liked kids and liked the idea of being a dad while Sam... not so much.

"Random, no," Castiel agreed. "You are, however, extraordinarily compassionate. I suspect that, if presented with an orphaned child whose situation required more specialized guardianship than a more normal human fosterage system could provide, you would be an excellent parental figure." He was silent for a moment, pensive and troubled, and then said, softly, "I had never had Nephilim of my own, nor am I likely to do so in the future, but if I did and was unable to care for the child myself, I would ask you."

"Me?" Sam gaped at him. "I mean, why me? Why not Dean?"

"Dean has an unfortunate history of being less than tolerant of supernatural occurrences, of children with powers beyond most human capabilities," Castiel said, shooting an apologetic glance at Sam even before Sam was aware of wincing. "A Nephil would inevitably have powers, and I am a Seraph. Only an Archangel could overpower and suppress the Grace of a Nephil sired by me, and there are no more Archangels available to do so. You have powers of your own and training in using them, albeit with an enhancement method that I would not recommend using with a Nephil, and would be well suited to teaching."

"Cas, my powers--"

"Are yours and yours alone. Azazel may have forcefully activated them on his own schedule and attempted to corrupt them and, through them, you, but he - and Ruby - failed. Your soul is far too pure and good for their hooks to find permanent anchor."

"But... I mean, you... angels... you always warned me against using them...."

"Only because the method with which you were amplifying them - that is, drinking demon blood - was so dangerous to you and the people around you, and training them to full strength properly after first tearing down Azazel's blocks would have taken considerably more time and effort... and, I suspect, those of my superiors actively assisting in bringing about the Apocalypse did not want you learning to use your powers without the addictive crutch of demon blood that could be used to prime your rage and point you at Lilith when the time came."

"So why are you just now telling me this?"

"Well," Castiel glanced away, looking somewhat sheepish. "To be honest, I did not realize that you were unaware that your powers were innate and not actually demonic in origin until I overheard you speaking of them in past tense as if they no longer existed because you were no longer drinking demon blood rather than you simply not using them. Given my clumsy understanding of social nuances and the complex mix of negative emotions you associate with your powers, I erred on the side of caution and did not mention it until our current conversation provided an opening."

Well. That was fair. Even so, Sam couldn't help but stare at Castiel as he attempted to process everything he had learned in such a short amount of time. The fact that the majority of Angels hated him was not new, but the fact that Heaven had actively sabotaged his efforts to be better than the demon blood that tainted him was... also not new, exactly, but Sam had never expected to hear it put so bluntly in conjunction with reassurance that his powers - and, by extension, Sam himself - did not come from a source of evil.

Even more bewildering was the hypothetical child Castiel spoke of and his assertion that Sam, not Dean who had always longed to be a parent, but Sam who had barely ever had anything to do with children even when he had been one, was to be given custody of the hypothetical Nephil if Castiel was incapacitated. The way Castiel had talked about the subject made it clear that he had never had Nephilim himself, and Sam knew that the creation of Nephilim was outlawed, and yet the Angel was sitting there, calm as you please, declaring that if he did ever have a child with a human and needed another parent besides himself and, presumably, the mother, that he would pick Sam. Sam, who was uncomfortable around kids at the best of times, even if he could fake passable competence in an emergency. Sam, who wouldn't trust himself to look after a completely human baby, never mind one that had "phenomenal cosmic powers" at its disposal. Sam who, until earlier when Castiel had declared that "nothing is worth losing you", had thought that Castiel might possibly consider him a friend at best and tolerated him as a reasonably useful asset at worst. Mind-boggling just didn't cover it.

And that wasn't even touching the whole thing with Castiel sounding like he was defending the actions of his soulless self. The subject of Sam's time topside without his soul was something Dean had never hesitated shut down hard, but Castiel had sounded almost... complimentary. Which made no sense, Sam knew, because without his soul he had been a tactless jerk, not--

"Your soulless self recognized that... and quite rightly called us out on our lack of respect for you and your sacrifices."

Sam swallowed against the lump forming in his throat, and again when it refused to be dislodged. Everything he did to help people, to try and make up for the damage he had caused, it never felt like enough. All the centuries spent in the Cage with Michael and Lucifer systematically taking out their rage on him amounted to only a year and a half on Earth, and the tortures blurred together to the point where Sam had long since lost count of how many centuries it had really been, shoving it down and shoving it down, his shaky forays into meditation and reshuffling his mind only managing to build the flimsiest of fences between his conscious mind and that echoing chasm of memory and pain, bits and pieces escaping here and there to scratch along his dreams. Little reminders that he may be out, maybe, but he would never be truly free. It was a truth, cold and logical and inexorable, that Dean refused to acknowledge in either of them, touched by Hell as they both were in different ways, and neither of them coping nearly as well as they wanted the other to believe.

"Stripped of your higher empathic functions and natural moral compass that is your soul, your body behaved with logical precision not unlike how most Angels would act."

The irony of an Angel of the Lord comparing his soulless self to other Angels was not lost on Sam, nor was the way that comparison gave him mixed feelings. All the years of praying, of believing in God and His Angels, having faith that some higher power was watching out for Dean and his Dad when he couldn't, that there was real good in the world to counterbalance all the evil being shoved at him from all sides...

"Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood."

...no....

"Nothing is worth losing you."

...but why....

"Sam? Sam, did you hear me?"

"Hm?" Jolted from his contemplating, Sam shot a guilty look first at the screen - how had he missed that much of the movie?! - and then gave Castiel a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Cas. What were you saying?"

"I was asking about Marius's assertion that he is in love with Cosette, when he has only just met her and barely interacted with her at all," Castiel repeated himself after a moment of scrutiny for his friend. "It seems disingenuous, more like the 'love' of the pizza man and the babysitter."

"It's supposed to be love at first sight, Cas," Sam explained, scrubbing a hand down his face. "It's like... when two people who've never interacted before meet, and there's this... connection that forms between them, like they click on a level that is deeper than physical or emotional. A look, a touch of hands... you just know, looking at that person, that this is it. This is the one." He shrugged. "It's talked about in books and movies and stories and songs all the time as this big romantic ideal, a lot like soulmates... uh, cupid-type soulmates, not me and Dean type soulmates."

"Do you not believe in love at first sight?" Castiel asked, tilting his head to the side with that puzzled curiosity that Sam found endearingly familiar.

"I don't disbelieve in it," Sam said, choosing his words carefully. "I mean, being a hunter has taught me that every story has some root in a truth. I just don't necessarily think that it always happens the way the stories make it sound. Like maybe sometimes it's one-sided, or something gets in the way like they live too far apart or one is already married or..." Sam bit his lip before he could continue the thought with mention of angels and humans, because he knew from Castiel that most instances of humans and angels coupling were less about romance and love and more about lust and awkward power imbalances, and the last thing he wanted to bring up right now was the hypothetical Nephil again. "Besides, just because love usually happens more slowly than a couple of seconds doesn't make it any less deep or meaningful or special."

"I see," Castiel hummed, and then, "Sam? How do you know when you're in love?"

...Shit.

"Uh," Sam reached up to rub the back of his neck, only to force his hand back down again when he realised what he was doing. "It's different for everyone, Cas...."

"I am aware," and there was a definite note of impatience in the gravelled voice. "I am asking how you know when you are in love."

"Oh," Sam mumbled. He could feel his face heating up and very nearly prayed that the heat wasn't a visibly obvious blush before he stopped himself; Castiel would probably hear it if he did. "Uh, well... not to sound like a broken record, but it was different for everyone I was... I mean, I felt differently about different people, even though it's all still love."

Castiel made an encouraging noise, and when Sam chanced a look in his direction, the Angel was turned more towards him than the screen, clearly interested and wanting to hear more. Well, okay then. Sam leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes, reaching back into the depths of his memory for the times he was in love or thought he was, shying away from some of the memories like Madison or Sarah or Amelia, and focusing on the deeper ones, the ones that got under his skin and stayed there across the years, even just as scars. There was a pattern there, a set of feelings that overlapped each instance.

"Happiness," he began, because that was the obvious place to start. "When you see the person, you feel happy. Being around them, sitting next to them, holding hands, hugging... full of happiness and joy and peace. You feel happy when they're happy, sad when they're sad, hurt when they're in pain... You want to protect them, even when you know they can protect themselves. You would fight, kill, even die for them, not because they would ever ask it of you, but because losing them is... unthinkable. It's agony. And all the pain is worth it, because seeing them smile is... it's better than Heaven."

"Oh," Castiel breathed. "Yes, that... that makes so much sense now."

There was a shuffling sound, and the couch cushions dipped beneath shifting weight, and then Sam felt one of his hands being enfolded in Castiel's, the skitter of that unfamiliar Grace held tightly leashed beneath his skin tingling just at the edge of Sam's awareness. He opened his eyes and looked at Castiel, who was beaming at him now from much closer than he had been. "Cas...?"

"Sam," Castiel was still smiling, but it was warmer, softer than the brilliant joy of before, more comfortable and... "Thank you for sharing your feelings with me. I was never able to explain myself adequately to my brothers, and so they frequently drew incorrect conclusions that I lacked the necessary frame of reference to refute or correct. Perhaps now I can make them understand."

"Understand?"

"That I am in love with you, Sam Winchester," Castiel squeezed Sam's hand gently. "My world started the day I took your hand. And I would not have it any other way."

"Cas... I...." He couldn't say it. He wanted to, God, did he ever want to say it back, but the words caught in his throat, too used to being choked back after so many years. "Cas...."

"I know. Sam? Will you hold me again? I enjoyed that quite a lot."

"Sure, Cas," Sam shifted, shoving the whirling of his thoughts back and away, and opened his arms. Castiel released his hand and moved closer, pressing the length of his body against Sam's. He let out a soft sigh as Sam brought his arms up to curl around Castiel, settling in a loose embrace that still managed to fully encompass the Angel's smaller physical frame. Together, they turned to watch the movie, wrapped up in each other and the mutual assurance that their feelings, spoken or not, were returned.

"Tomorrow we'll discover what our God in Heaven has in store...."

=End=

#sastiel #sastielcc #sastiel creations challenge #spn fluff bingo #supernatural fic

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takingcourage · 6 years

Text

The Start of Forever - Part 6

Pairing: Drake x MC

Word Count: 2,100

Series Summary: The wedding has passed and the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria are free to begin their lives together away from the constraints of court. While honeymooning in Texas, they’re confronted with questions from their past that raise implications about their future. (Slight AU)

Chapter Summary: On the final night of their honeymoon, the newlyweds decompress and come to some conclusions.

Author’s Note: Unless inspiration strikes, this is the final part of this miniseries. I love these characters dearly, but I’ve really struggled with this story ever since it accidentally became an AU. I ended up rewriting huge chunks of it to the extent that my original ending just no longer worked. As belated as it is, at this point I’d rather bring the story to an end than risk not finishing it at all. Thanks for sticking with me! I hope you enjoy. : )

Jena was speeding.

At first, Drake thought he was imagining it, but the sign they’d just passed confirmed that his wife was breaking the law. He snuck another look across the dashboard and sucked in through his teeth at the number. Even in miles, the figure was pretty damn high.

“Geez, Wittman. Do you think you’re driving fast enough?” He managed to keep his tone light in spite of his surprise at her negligence.

Jena glanced toward the passenger seat before scanning the speedometer. “Nine you’re fine, ten you’re mine,” she quoted. “Do they have that saying in Cordonia?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t make a habit of speeding.”

She knew he didn’t. He’d more than proven that during their languorous drive the afternoon before. He knew it was probably that experience which had prompted her to take the driver’s seat today. He liked to savor the time he spent on the road; his wife liked for the trip to be over as soon as possible. It was probably a good thing that neither of them had to do much driving in Cordonia.

“Well, it’s beside the point. I’m only going seven over. I’m sure any cops between here and Dallas will let it slide.” Her thumb rubbed the cruise control button idly. “I’m just ready to check into our hotel and have the night to ourselves.”

“Me too.” He settled a hand on her upper thigh with a reassuring squeeze. In spite of that morning’s horseback excursion, there was a crackle of tension between them. Maybe it was just his guilt speaking, but there was something his wife wasn’t saying. Her breathing was too precise. Jena could mask her feelings when she needed to, but he’d become pretty good at sensing when things were off.

Regardless, he knew she wouldn’t want to talk about what was bothering her while they were still in the car. She had a habit of staring at him with a sometimes-uncomfortable intensity when they had serious discussions. In light of her decision to break the laws of the road, he didn’t think it was wise to distract her while she was behind the wheel. Instead, he held her jean-clad thigh, thumb transmitting the message even when the rest of his body could not: I love you. We’ll get to the bottom of this.

Two hours later, they were checked in to their downtown hotel and were well on the way to the promised room service, hot tub, and drinks -- though not in precisely that order.

Jena sat cross legged in the middle of their hotel bed, posture more befitting a schoolgirl than a duchess. As comfortable as her stance might appear, Drake could tell that she was anything but relaxed. Between her small hands, she clutched a tall bottle, holding onto the glass as if she expected it to sprout legs and try to run away from her.

He removed his shoes and took a seat against the headboard, his long legs stretched out by her side. She ran a palm along his shin, absently. Even in her distracted state, her presence was still a comfort to him.

“It’s probably a good thing we didn’t end up running away last night. With the blue laws in this state, I don’t know what we would have had to do to get a proper drink,” she noted, cracking the seal on the whiskey before taking a long sip. She extended the bottle toward Drake and he eagerly received it. The oaky liquid coated his tongue, and he felt the tension in his shoulders relax as it ran down his throat.

He nodded gratefully. “I needed this.”

Jena shot him a knowing look, her arched brow mocking him for stating the obvious. The liquor store had been her first stop as soon as they’d entered city limits. She had thrown open the car door with an eagerness that told him neither one of them was making it through the night completely sober.

Jena stared past him, gaze resting on the abstract painting that hung above his head. He studied her face as her manicured nails clicked an uneven tempo against the silence of the room. Her features were still, save for the shifting of teeth as she nibbled her bottom lip. Tonight, the action wasn’t meant to allure -- it was subconscious. A sign that she was anxiously trying to situate everything that had happened into navigable patterns within her mind.

He’d seen this look too many times before. He hated seeing it again. Even more than that, he hated knowing that he was the cause.

“I’m really glad that things with your mom ended as well as they did today. Whether or not she said it, I think that the visit meant a lot to her.” Jena’s eyes remained trained on the picture, though her hand had settled against his shin once more.

Drake’s words cut into her musings, “I think so too. But Wittman, if I’m completely honest, I care a lot more about whether or not our relationship is okay. You haven’t been quite yourself the past two days.”

Her gaze dropped suddenly as she lifted a hand to brush the implication away. “I was just anxious about everything with your mom.”

“You may be good at schmoozing royalty, but you’re a terrible liar.” Seeing the indecisive tug at her lips, he continued. “I know you weren’t in the best of moods last night, but I could have sworn that I was the one you were upset with.”

“That’s because I was upset with you.” Even though he’d expected it, the admission still stung. He reached for her, but she shook her head and held back, as if afraid that the contact would distract her from the task at hand. “And that made really angry with myself.”

“Why would you be angry?”

“Because I can’t believe I got into this mess.”

Drake’s heart plummeted. “Mess?”

Her eyes took on a metallic sheen, silver and piercing. “I just thought I was better than this. I love you, Drake. So, so much.” Her gaze softened several degrees. “I have confidence that you and I can make this work, but I have to do better. I can’t keep panicking every time something doesn’t go the way I expect it to.”

His pulse shuddered at the raw admission, and he could no longer stand to be separated from her. “Jena.” At his motion for her to join him, she shifted closer. Drake gently pulled her toward him, her knees bumping into his upper thigh. She settled there, legs touching even as she maintained some distance. “This was a situation you should never have been put through. If I had it to do over, there are a hundred things I would change. But nothing that happened was your fault.”

“I accused you of lying to me when that wasn’t true.”

“You never said that, Jena.”

“I thought it.”

“Even if you did, It was a fair critique. I should have been more honest going in.”

“I just so scared. I know what deception does to a marriage, Drake. I can’t stand the thought of that happening to us.”

His response came before he’d even had opportunity to consider her words. “It won’t. We’ll learn from this and we’ll be honest with each other.”

“You say that, and I know that you mean it, but saying it doesn’t solve anything. I mean, you wanted to protect your mom and your first instinct was to do it by hiding the truth. How do I know you won’t do the same thing to me if you think it will protect me?”

“You’re not my mom, Wittman. I’m not afraid of the truth breaking you the way I thought it would break her.”

“I think sometimes you underestimate what people are going to be able to handle.”

Her uncanny stare bored into him as he mulled over the words, unable to deny how many times he had underestimated her in the past. “Maybe I do.”

“And as much as I appreciate having you on my side, you’ve got to be able to trust me. Our trip to your mom’s might have run a lot smoother if I’d known what I was getting myself into -- not that I blame you for the way things went --” she clarified quickly. “I just had very different expectations going in.”

“That’s another thing we need to start being honest about.”

“Yeah.” Her agreement was halfhearted.

Drake held off speaking and passed her the bottle, hoping that she might elaborate. Instead, she thumbed the smooth glass rim.

“Is anything else bothering you?” he asked finally, seeking the fingers of her free hand with his own.

“Just that I can’t believe I yelled at my mother-in-law this morning. I’m fairly certain that’s not on any list of approved techniques for meeting new relatives.”

“If you hadn’t done it, I would have. I think she had it coming.”

His words produced the inkling of a smile, but it quickly disappeared as she gnawed at the plump bottom lip between her teeth. Drake’s first impulse was sympathy, but his second was something far more selfish -- something primal that made him want to forgo the conversation in favor of another form of communication.

Forcing himself to keep a straight head, he turned serious again. “I never meant to hurt you. I was only trying to protect my mom and I wasn’t thinking about how that would affect you. Will you forgive me?”

“Of course I will.” She squeezed his hand softly and his heart leapt, spurred on by the words as well as the gesture. “Will you forgive me for being angry with you and making things worse with your mom?”

“I’ll always forgive you.”

She smiled -- the first genuine smile he’d seen since they left the cabin. “I love you, Drake.” She edged closer to him, pulling his hand onto her lap to stroke his long fingers with her own.

“I love you so much, Jena. Thanks for putting up with everything I’ve put you through.”

Her eyes rolled -- a response he didn’t even want to begin analyzing -- before she turned reflective. “In spite of everything, I’ve enjoyed our time here. I’d go back to that cabin in a heartbeat.”

“I would too. But I’ve got to be honest with you,” her gaze flicked to his with rapt attention. “This isn’t how I pictured spending the last night of our honeymoon."

Jena raised one eyebrow, the hint of a smile passing over her features. “Then it’s a good thing we’ve still got time to change the ending.”

His thumb settled on the soft curve of her lower lip, ghosting over it gently as her skin trembled with anticipation. He was leaning in to kiss her when she pulled away from him, though he quickly understood that the maneuver was intended to deposit the whiskey safely on the nightstand. The task complete, he had her complete attention, and she his.

Before he knew what was happening, Jena was in his lap, hands steadying his face as she kissed him halfway to oblivion. With measured force, his teeth skimmed the fullness of her lip, prompting a groan that was at once contented and longing. His hands found their way beneath the hem of her shirt and she shivered at the pleasurable contrast of his calluses contrasting against the smoothness of her skin.

The warmth from the alcohol had set in some minutes before, but it was nothing compared to the fire that consumed him at her touch. Every nerve ending was on edge, desperate for contact -- for the closeness that was unique to her. Even as he tugged her nearer, she pressed against him, yanking the cotton away from his chest to touch him uninhibited.

As she leaned away to toss the shirt aside, Drake caught his breath. How did I ever get so lucky?

The question was driven by so much more than just the rapture of her touch. It was the commitment and the understanding they had found in one another. It was the knowledge that, whatever might stand in their way, they would face it together, no matter what facing it entailed. It was the pang of complete adoration that shot through him as their eyes met in the lamp light.

“I can’t believe I get to spend forever with you.”

“This is just the start, Walker.”

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #the royal romance #trr #drake walker #drake x mc

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pass-the-bechdel · 6 years

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Dollhouse full series review

How many episodes pass the Bechdel test?

96.15% (twenty-five of twenty-six).

What is the average percentage of female characters with names and lines for the full series?

45.89%

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 40% female?

Twenty.

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 50% female?

Twelve.

How many episodes have a cast that is less than 20% female?

Zero.

Positive Content Status:

Very poor - this is exactly why we don’t just rely on passing the Bechdel and having a large number of female characters in the cast as ‘guarantees’ that we’re watching feminist content. If all those female characters exist to be punished, objectified, and abused by the story’s creator as an expression of his misogynistic rage, that is not a good thing (average rating of 2.76).

Which season had the best representation statistics overall?

They’re about the same, really. The one Bechdel fail was in the first season, but season two had less female character presence overall, but it was also more balanced insofar as it scored more episodes with 40% or more on the cast. Both scored equally badly on content quality, though my feeling is that perhaps season one’s sins were the worse of the two. On the other hand, season one had more guest female characters AND it used its supporting female cast more prominently, whereas season two was more male-heavy not just in numbers but in screen time and narrative attention. At the end of the day, I’m not sure it matters which you consider to be worse.

Which season had the worst representation statistics overall?

See above. I cannot recommend this show for feminist content.

Overall Series Quality:

For a first-time viewer, there’s probably still solid potential for enjoyment, and at least some of the twists should be genuinely enjoyable. The majority of the cast is very excellent, and the idea of the show is compelling. However, the quality of the series as it turned out is negligible, full of flash and little substance, the bad apples in the cast spoil the batch while the good grapple with bad writing and the woeful underuse of their skills, and the whole thing remains far better as a thought than it is in execution. And then there’s the misogynistic rage thing. That’s a problem that really messes with the overall product, to put it lightly.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) under the cut:

For the record: I believe, sincerely and completely, that Joss Whedon hates women. Not that he doesn’t know how to relate to them or he misses ‘the old days’ or any other such placid disdain; I think he deeply and violently hates women, and I think the evidence is written all up and down his work - all of his work, but perhaps never more clearly than in this show. He can claim to be a feminist all he wants, he can put women at the forefront of his shows and talk big game about what he believes they’re capable of, but so long as the women in his stories continue to be mistreated at every turn, beaten, raped, and constantly belittled and devalued within the text, I will not be convinced that the man doesn’t resent the Hell out of women for existing - and particularly, for existing with potential for sexuality. The misogyny of the Whedonverse is rampant, unchecked, often participated in by his ‘heroes’ as much as his villains, and treated as largely incidental, rarely acknowledged and even then, gleefully delivered as ‘just the way things are’. Characters might shake their heads about how that’s unfortunate (and Whedon pats himself on the back for making such an insightful feminist statement), but the verbal denouncement doesn’t detract from the indulgent inclusion of that misogyny, the platform provided for it to roam uninhibited, and be showcased and vicariously enjoyed. For someone who claims to be a feminist, Whedon sure does seem to be fetishistically obsessed with making women suffer, and when I compare the content of his work to that of the other creators whose shows have appeared on this blog, the result is most unflattering.

As easy as it would be to while away this post explicating the details of Whedon’s reprehensible worldview, however, I shall refrain; for one, it would be boring as Hell, it’s not a complicated reality and the truth really is in the pudding for all to see, you don’t need me for that, and for two: I already promised to at last talk about the characters and their arcs (such as they are), since that is one subject I often neglected in the posts on this show, and arguably the only subject upon which the show could hang any virtues. Naturally, we will begin at the beginning, with the much-maligned lead character: Echo.

Eliza Dushku is not a terrible actor. But her range is pretty limited, she plays variations on the same archetype almost exclusively, and that’s a terrible fit for a show where the central caveat is supposed to be that she can take on any personality and be a complete and whole different person week by week. No one should ever expect to be able to float that idea with a lead who is so very obviously not up to the task, and while I don’t think she’s responsible for the failure of the show (all of its other flaws would have soundly sunk it even if Dushku was a crown jewel of talent), it certainly does not help that she’s easily the blandest and least compelling player in the whole sorry mess. It’s a cringe every time she utters some silly line about how powerful and badass she is, because there’s nothing convincing about it, and if the creative team really believed (and believed their audience would believe) that Echo is THAT great, they wouldn’t feel the need to have her showily declare it. When season two hits and Echo’s ‘character development’ fast-tracks to full sentience, she becomes even less dynamic: all of the things which could have provided legitimate engagement with the character’s struggle are skipped over, her process of self-actualisation (anyone who read my Farscape reviews knows my love for hard self-actualisation narratives), her navigation of her role as a developing entity in a world hostile to such things (touched on occasionally in season one, thrown to the wind in season two), anything to do with her cognitive evolution is scrapped in favour of ‘she just remembers it all now’, and there’s no arc to it. I invoked the concept of the Mary Sue in one episode post, and that is exactly the problem we end up with: a ‘perfect’ character who can do everything and anything and be ~the best~ at it, who is beloved and desired by all who meet her, except for her (mustache-twirling cliche villain) enemies, who fear her awesome powers. There is no personality in Echo, no conflict, no meaning. Wild as it may sound, you could actually remove her from the show completely and easily adapt the other characters (the ones who have personality, conflict, and meaning) to fill the space, and not only would it work, but the show would be infinitely the better for it. That’s the absolute opposite of what you want from a lead character.

The other BIG mistake in the casting for this show is Tahmoh Penikett as Paul Ballard, who plays his part with all the verve and charisma of a piece of wood with eyes drawn on (ever watch Ed, Edd, and Eddy? Plank has more dynamic personality than our boy Ballard). I’m not sure how much of it is Penikett’s fault - it has been many years since I watched Battlestar Galactica, and while I don’t remember being particular impressed by him, I don’t remember being frustrated by his inability to walk in a straight line without making it look weird, either - but whether he’s handicapped by his own acting non-prowess or not, he’s certainly fighting a losing battle with an unfocused mess of a character, and if the writing couldn’t decide what Ballard’s deal was to start with, I’m not shocked that Penikett had a hard time conveying it. Is Ballard a morally righteous hero (on a show with no moral centre for him to relate to)? Is he flawed and secretly-dark, and if he is, who recognises that, is it deliberate? Is he losing control, or is that just supposed to be ‘normal person’ behaviour? Again, who notices, does he know? How much of his interiority is a white-knight cliche, and how much is supposed to be genuine, and is any of it supposed to be subversive? I honestly can’t tell, one episode from the next. In season one, he’s garbage at his job, and some characters mention it, but then Ballard himself appears to be under the impression that he’s fighting the good fight and the tone of the show seems to agree with him rather than acknowledging his self-delusion. In season two, he joins the Dollhouse at the same time as openly declaring himself to be still against it, the plot conveniently pretends he never raped Mellie so that we can uphold the idea that he IS righteous, after all, and has no dark impulses, other characters at the Dollhouse put up with him being an obvious liability for no discernible reason, and then eventually he gets rendered brain-dead, reconstructed as a doll version of himself, and then dies a few episodes later anyway. Big whoop. It feels an awful lot like they had no long-term plan for what to do with the character, so they just focused on giving him a romance with Echo and then threw some contrived death stuff on top of that for flavour. Speaking of the romance thing: eek. Again, in season one it seemed they couldn’t decide whether or not his mounting obsession with his damsel-in-distress vision of Caroline was creepy as Hell (pro tip: it absolutely was), but then in season two it all became very simple: Ballard wants Echo, but doesn’t really believe she’s a real person (for some reason this is not a deal-breaker to her), and they dance around each other for a bit but never get together and somehow we’re supposed to interpret this as the development of a wonderful love story with a bittersweet tragic end when he dies, twice but also not really because then she downloads him into her brain anyway so they live happily ever after, sort of. It’s a fucking mess, y’all, and they don’t earn it, and the utter soup that is Ballard’s personality and motivation goes un-examined. The fact that season two tips heavily in favour of Echo/Ballard scenes is something very significantly to its detriment, because it’s the worst and most shakily-developed non-relationship of the series. Ok, that, and whatever the fuck Topher/Bennett was supposed to be.

Speaking of Topher...actually, I don’t have much to say about him. Breaking pattern with the rest of the characters, Topher shows no real sign of a personal story in season one, so it’s season two which attempts to give him some function as an individual outside of being the comic-relief tech guy. It’s not particularly successful, since the attempted character development revolves around 1) moral compunctions (which, as noted ad nauseum, this show left itself incapable of engaging with in any meaningful way back when it pretended sexual slavery was a morally grey issue), and 2) throwing a love interest at him: zero actual relationship-building ensues and it’s awkward and chemistry free and then she dies (so glad Bennett could exist to tick off a bunch of Whedon’s favourite suffering-woman tropes and then die for shock value, yay). At the end of the day, Topher was just a handful of affectations, fun to watch, but hardly amounting to more of a ‘whole person’ than the paper-thin personalities of the sex-fantasy cliches he imprinted into the dolls.

If Topher is the character who suffers most from a lack of development in season one, Boyd is the hardest hit in season two, easily. As Echo’s handler in season one, Boyd was pleasant, mild-mannered, protective, and he had an ethos which governed his choices (imagine such a thing!). His former career as a cop was referenced variously, and it seemed clear that we should expect one day to learn how he came to leave the force and wind up as a bodyguard working for a secret organisation. Season two? Forget about it. Forget about it because of the idiotic ‘twist’ that turned Boyd into Rossum’s cuckoo founder and thereby unraveled his entire personality as a sham in one fell swoop, obviously, but forget about his character having even the appearance of development in the meantime, also. Removing Boyd from his position as Echo’s handler was a grave error, as it downgraded his importance and effectively stifled the natural bond he had developed with his charge which represented a nice, uncomplicated character dynamic (one far more welcome than that clusterfuck replacement which was Ballard as Echo’s handler, euch). Additionally, this led to Boyd being largely backgrounded for the entirety of season two, given no meaningful stories to engage with, and certainly not expanded upon or explored as a character. As noted, any such expansion would have been irrelevant anyway once the dumbass ‘big reveal’ happened, but that’s all the more reason to bemoan the loss of Boyd’s character, which essentially occurred a full season before he actually donned his suicide vest and exploded in the Rossum building. If you have to dump a character just to service your twist, don’t. Dump the twist instead. Like pretty much every other actor on this show, Harry Lennix deserved better.

And then there’s DeWitt...I largely covered the DeWitt issue back in the episode posts, really; she starts out an intriguing character (and I credit Olivia Williams with much of this, she created dynamism out of an oft-lacking script, in every case), but season two really did a number on her when it came to leaping wildly about different plot ideas that jerked DeWitt’s characterisation from one extreme to another with very little connective tissue to sell the change. If Ballard was the character whom the narrative couldn’t decide how to handle in season one, DeWitt takes up that odious mantle in season two; is she losing her grasp? Is she playing the game? Is she an evil, pragmatic genius? Is she foolish and deluded by an idealism that plainly has no basis in reality? Is she an alcoholic who spontaneously gets her shit together after a couple of other characters tell her off? Damn, that was easy. As with Ballard, the problem is not just that the story seems to change tone and purpose for DeWitt’s character from one episode to the next; it also robs her of the opportunity to be defined through consistent interaction with others - she has no one to bounce off in a manner which would create a baseline for her behaviour and how it is outwardly perceived (and thus, how the audience is intended to interpret it).

I’m gonna talk about Sierra and Victor together, because frankly, that’s both the way the show packages them, and there’s not much to say outside of it. For the millionth time ever on this blog, I will complain that all shows ever would be improved by being ensembles; in this case, Sierra and Victor both would have benefited from a framework which allowed either one of them to take greater precedence more often, instead of having their own narratives distilled down to a single Personal Episode each in season two. I do enjoy both, and their relationship has legitimate chemistry and charm while also following a sensible plot concept through - the idea that strong emotional connections and bonds can transcend the mind wipe. Unfortunately, the show has little functional purpose for either character outside of their relationship, to the extent that it even sidelines them almost entirely in the climax of the series (pre-flashforward). Victor/Anthony is given the least plot purpose in the show proper, which is just a criminal misuse of Enver Gjokaj - Anthony is a soldier and that’s essentially his entire personality right there, and the only thing that gives them an excuse to make him do Manly Fighter Stuff in the latter stages of season two. Sierra/Priya gets more to do, but the bad news is, it’s all about being raped, and that’s her whole story - horrible possessive misogynists abusing her so that she can embody Whedon’s favourite Broken Bird trope, with the added misfortune of changing the nature of her relationship with Victor to make it a little bit about him ‘rescuing’ her with the love of a good man. Both of these actors are so good, and their characters had such potential, I can’t believe the show fucked around and wasted them like it did.

Ok, one more before I go. I know he was never a member of the central cast, but we gotta talk about Laurence Dominic, because he was deceptively essential to the show, important to what made it work for the brief time when it could be said to work, and he was altogether the best character on the show insofar as he was the most cohesive, consistent, and logical player in the piece. I said as much when he made his welcome return in ‘The Attic’ (the best episode of season two...coincidence?), and as I noted then, it may be that Dominic’s early exit from the show was to his benefit in that he avoided being jostled across season two having all semblance of coherence torn to pieces along the way. I’m fairly certain the writer’s had no idea how valuable Dominic was to the story when they axed him (not least because they clearly had no idea how important it is to create some kind of moral framework to support a story that is inherently morally dubious), but consider the most obvious changes to the show format and the other character’s stories once Dominic was out of the picture: Boyd takes over as Head of Security, to his detriment as a character, and to the detriment of his relationship with Echo, leaving her wasting time with that dolt Ballard instead and putting audiences everywhere to sleep. And DeWitt? DeWitt loses her sounding board, the right-hand man who - for most of the first season - anchored her character by giving her someone to talk and plot and, at times, disagree with, creating that behavioural baseline that she lacked when she was being dragged all over season two. Dominic’s role was a structural pillar on the show, he held the roof up so that the rest of the characters could interact and interrelate - with each other, and with him - he had distinct relationship dynamics with pretty much all of them - and he was exactly the kind of character that you want around being a stable, unobtrusive presence. They could even have kept the idea of him being an NSA spy, just keep him working undercover, the audience knows the truth but the other characters don’t, it creates tension! Sure, it’d probably mean letting Ivy be sent to the attic under false charges, and that wouldn’t help this show’s abysmal abuse-of-women record, but considering the show did nothing of consequence with Ivy in the end anyway and she just existed to be belittled by Topher while he sent her to fetch him snacks...yeah, anyway. I could talk a lot about why Dominic was the best character on this stinking show, but it’s ultimately beside the point: the point is that nothing in this show really worked, and that had a lot to do with major conceptual issues (moral grounding is not optional! Misogyny is not tasty plot flavouring! Joss Whedon is an abomination!), and keeping Dominic around long-term would no more save the show than if Eliza Dushku possessed a modicum of acting range. It’s frustrating because there are so many good pieces there, excellent actors, intriguing character set-ups, fantastic plot possibilities, and heady existential implications. It’s just that some moron decided the best thing to do with that would be to play nasty sexual wish-fulfillment games and leave the rest to rot. I’m pretty sure the version of this show I enjoyed once was largely the version I made in my head, because the reality is a wasteful disaster. And misogynistic as Hell, too. We, the viewers, deserved better.

#Dollhouse #full series review #Bechdel Test #female representation

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matlawrites-blog · 6 years

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Can I talk to the boys for a moment

We can only do our best with what we have, not what we don't.

Doing the best with what you have relies a lot on what you know and how far you're willing to take that knowledge.

I am learning to put in the work and expect as much as I give in. I am failing at some of my pursuits, its a terrible feeling. Yet, I am trying each time to figure out this life thing...

...having accepted that everybody has their own timing.

I Learn. Fail. Try again.

I am also learning that it is the hardest thing to trust your heart, but I do it nonetheless.

I am learning that people change. Vele change is the only constant. People can either be a blessing in your life or your worst nightmare. Remember that.

Learn to shut out the noise. Listen to you and feel your way through life. Now I'm not saying act out your emotions. I'm just saying be sensitive to the language of the world.

I heard that what bothers you the most, is most probably where you should be headed. Take that step towards your dreams. Stay woke.

I am learning that there is a Living God. He is in addition to Himself, the result and the cause of our existence. He never fails us. He never changes. He is always Faithful.

He never turns His back on you, nor will he ever distance Himself from you. Instead, you're the one who strays away... right?

I am learning...

I am learning that there are some women in your life who are going to give you a thirst for life like you've never had before...

They will think for you, pray for you and most important of all, be there for you. Be careful with their hearts. Our Offspring are born there.

There are some women, out of experience, who will do you bad. They are hurting. I hope you understand.

Guys are probably feeling the veil of karma upon their lives because of their negligence towards their responsibilities and abuse cases. Just to name two.

Sure, not all of them are like that. However, somebody made me realise that I can't really isolate myself from this situation. Its our problem, Gents.

Currently, I am learning to become emotionally intelligent. I am learning to take control of my emotions and think out my reactions. This does not mean I'll let anybody play on my head.

How I feel affects the people around me. Especially the closest. You would be surprised to know that it also affects your finances- being impulsive.

I approach life not taking things too personal. Learning to take advice, even when its not rosey.

I am responsible for my actions.

That was the powerful revelation.

That I am responsible for my actions and I'm not going to blame anybody. Not my family, my friends, circumstance, nothing!

I was listening to a podcast sometime last week. The podcast is based on entrepreneurship and this guy who was being interviewed mentioned something so profound. He asked;

"Are you happening to the world or is the world happening to you?"

Man!

If that doesn't sum it up. Nothing will.

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obciidian-archived · 6 years

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lim seunghwa: brief psychological analysis

in this post i will attempt to scrutinize lim seunnghwa’s psyche as of today with a retrospective on his past -- i will address seunghwa’s development as a teenager as i consider the attachment type he has and the environment he grows in, including his relationships with various significant characters in his life. i will be using theories i have learned during my classes, and use my university books are sources. all the information isn’t accurate (except for terms and their definitions) as it is my interpretation of the character.

tagging: @0308tr @crestmort @dvydrcm

attachment theory (bowlby) is a psychological model attempting to describe the dynamics of long-term and short-term interpersonal relationships between humans; how human beings respond within relationships when hurt, separated from loved ones, or perceiving a threat. provided any caregiver all infants become attached--however individual differences in the quality of the relationships remain significant. in infants, attachment as a motivational and behavioral system directs the child to seek proximity with a familiar caregiver when they are alarmed with expectation that they will receive protection and emotional support. the theory believes that the tendency for primate infants to develop attachments to familiar caregivers was the result of evolutionary pressures, since attachment behavior would facilitate the infant's survival in the face of dangers such as predation or exposure to the world, etc. (in researches on orphans, those who were not provided a main caregiver/caretaker figure who is fixated and provides all needs that are physical, emotional, and psychological the infants did not survive more than 6 months, in most cases). through the dynamics between the caregiver and the infant, the infant will develop an attachment type; secure, or anxious (ambivalent or avoidant).

as of my speculations his attachment model is anxious-ambivalent.

anxious-ambivalent attachment type: a child will typically explore little (in the strange situation) and is often wary of strangers, even when the parent is present. once the mother departs, the child is often highly distressed. the child is generally ambivalent when his mother returns.: the strategy is a response to unpredictably responsive caregiving, and the displays of anger (ambivalent resistant) or helplessness (ambivalent passive) towards the caregiver on reunion can be regarded as a conditional strategy for maintaining the availability of the caregiver by preemptively taking control of the interaction. that is what we can view during the ainsworth test at the end of the first year. to summarize: it is facilely the mixture of seeking and yet resisting contact and interaction has an unmistakably exasperated quality and indeed an angry tone may characterize behavior in the presoeparation episodes. the infant would ultimately learn that their caretaker (often the mother) is not always emotionally available and she possess unexpectable responses to their needs; she will not consistently be there to suffice emotional, physical, and physiological aid when requested. on other occasions she may “flood” the infant with excessive amount of these required aspects therefore, the infant cannot trust the mother to always be available for him and consequently cannot use her as a safe “homebase” to recharge emotional strength during the time they explore the world.

this type of attachment ultimately becomes a working model to adults. it is capable of alternating during the life of the individual, albeit, isn’t an easy task to do. people with secure attachment can in fact grow an anxious-ambivalent type or anxious-avoidant type as a result of a truma (i.g: terror attack, death, rape, etc.) in adults, this type of attachments (anxious-ambivalent) is often grown into a preoccupied type of attachment (determined via the aai interview). this type will result in an adult who feels overwhelmed when asked upon childhood memories and experiences them on a high level. the individual’s answers to the query would often result in long and informative answers and internal contradictions which ultimately results in a long and cumbersome interview. this type of person often views the worlds through a perspective where they are unworthy of all that the world must proffer; they cannot excel in all aspects which they would yearn to excel, the are unworthy of loving unconditionally, and are fearful of abandonment in situation where they need protection. the individual is not open with his relations to the environment and with not expect mutual relations but would rather sense as if the others are not attentive of him.

now as we take those two completing types of attachment into equation, let’s have a look at seunghwa.

during the first year of the boy’s life he was raised with intense proximity to his ailing mother. during the first year, as he is the third son, her treatment to him was slightly different than her first born son and her second son ; she was more mellow and patient, more experienced consequently, more attentive of his needs. she will have to attempt to provide all four critical aspects of deportment to ensure her son’s attachment style to be secure: a. vigilance to his signals in which during display of emotional availability. b. acceptance of the infant’s demeanor ( as in disregarding the mother’s own exhaustion or needs in favor of the infant’s ). c. cooperation with the baby as in allowing it to explore the world and not prevent or disturb an experiencing. d. psychological and physical availability during an understanding of the infant’s world (as oppose of ignorance and negligence). despite most steps which have been taken considering the mother’s side, the boy has grown into an attachment model that is not secure. that is for she had become ill during their early years and quite soon after seunghwa was born. she is often inexpressive, only meddles into matters when witnessing her songs misconducting and then would advice to remain nice in attitude. she would not often initiate physical contact (as oppose to his older brothers) as she is not only warned out by being a parent for the third time but, for being abandoned by her husband after the third pregnancy with vehement lack of interest on his part to take care of their children, and having to face an undefeatable illness in her body. she is often very strict and rigorous as she would overlook the details of a situation to do what she believes (perhaps isn’t remotely close to being right in most occasions) -- she is stubborn in a way (i.g: she hasn’t came back home for days after their father brought a new woman home and forsaken her sons temporarily). therefore, it would make sense that this is the type of attachment seunghwa has developed, considering the mother’s personality and treatment of him during his first year, altogether.

to determine which kind of attachment model the boy possess we would have needed to take the ainsworth’s test at the end of his first year albeit, as he is sixteen as of today, we can only determine his type of attachment via various interactions with his family members and the world around him, the way he perceives himself and his view of the world.

as of today, the boy has displayed a rather infantile type of demeanor; he is quite impulsive (rather excessively of his age group - displays in behaviors of impulse control issues as he refuses to wait for being gratified whether be it a materialistic yearning or emotional yearning.), he is quite selfish (again, excessively -- it is shown in the way that he cannot view other’s aspects on the world and their impacts or their stances until he is thoroughly scolded and exposed to those, often in situations which are rather unpleasant i.g: altercations/arguments).

behind his psyche we can often witness that he does not fully trust the person who is currently his main caretaker, his oldest brother, seungjae. it is displayed through the track of thoughts which prevents him to speaking to his brother about things which occupy his mind, perturb it, and emotions he needs to speak of. additionally, he lacks significant sense of self-worth as of for his unilateral love (however that romantic love may not be the best indicator in this case for it holds several problematic factors that may perhaps have been affected by other sources: the fact that in a heteronormative society he falls in love with a man, and the fact that this man is a famous person who is 10 years older than him). seunghwa also manifestly expresses his fear of abandonment: he doesn’t want his brother to hate him despite behaviors which he ultimately understands are wrong and/or hurtful and in fact attempts to reach out for him to grow closer (i.g a hug, warm words, kind gestures he asserts would make the brother happy) --- yet at the same time he is also very remote; he doesn’t want to speak to his brothers about emotional matters for the fear they would be uninterested. he does not want to develop a subject that bothers him into a conversation for he fears the confrontation with his brothers, despite evident signs that it in fact makes his anxious and worried.

all of these lead towards the two type of attachments that i’ve briefly explained earlier.

in piaget’s preoperational stage children for their egocentric feature tend to view things from their own perspective and when a tragedy of some sort occurs (such as divorce, loss of a family member, etc.) they tend to take blame for it since they cannot view the world in any other way other than their own eyes. that would explain how seunghwa must have perceived their mother’s illness and their father’s absence. during their youngest years (when he has just been born) their father would have evidently cheated on the ailing mother; he would bring a new woman home to be as some sort of a mother substance for the boys and although she had not been warmly welcomed into their household by the siblings themselves, seunghwa may have perceived these type of situations as something that perhaps he has done. relating these sentiments to the way he lacks belief that either of his brothers shall ever listen to him he has never voiced out these feelings -- it is quite important to tell a child that it is not their fault, otherwise they may carry that guilt for years with them even into adulthood. which seems to be the case here. he often times views the world in a way of a blaming finger pointed at him for things he is not at fault of. which brings me to a term linked to this: imaginary audience - the unjustified concern of adolescents that they are in the spotlight of others’ attention. with this, seunghwa may sense that his brothers are often looking at him through scrutinizing eyes and that their perspective of him is often negative to begin with… even to the extent of abhorring him.

identity crisis (erikson) amongst adolescents is the process when they struggle to establish their personal identity; they receive an onerous task to establish a sense of self (which is excruciatingly fragile at these ages) in two different systems -- their biological one which is in charge of physical and hormonal changes, and the social system where the teenager lives. being the youngest of three, seunghwa finds himself in a fragile state during the time where he attempts to establish some type of identity as of who is he -- still young and befuddled, the birth order may also harbor its impact on his psyche. [ the last born child is often characterized as manipulative, attention-seeker, self-centered, and indulging in fun/pleasure. they are excellent in getting their own way. a role that is designated to them by the birth hierarchy is as of a baby-like, which may result in fewer responsibilities whereas more opportunities of fun. they often find themselves taken with lack of seriousness, or being deprived from the independence which they crave. they will often do whatever it takes to distinguish themselves from the older siblings -- more likely to take risks, as well. ]

i have noticed recently that he has been going through some regression in his development (which would possibly explain his excessive and flamboyant behaviors of childishness and selfishness)

for that, i will briefly scrutinize the impact each significant character in his life harbors.

seungjae (oldest brother): during early years (around the ages of 5/6) their mother has gotten terminally ill so her functioning as a parental unit has decreased more than she usually possessed. seungjae has been a replacement of her since the middle of his teenage years (15/16) and inevitably has become the main caretaker figure of his younger siblings. his demeanor is quite similar to their mother’s in the sense of raising his brothers for that type of deportment is acquired upon behavioral learning [ operant behavior (skinner) operates on the environment and is maintained by its consequences; reinforcement and punishment are either positive meaning they are delivered following a response or negative meaning withdrawn following a response -- via that he must’ve been doctrined on what are the ‘proper’ ways of educating, providing, and raising his younger siblings ]. consequently, his emotional expressivism and care is less tended than the sufficion of his brother’s needs for survival (clothes, food, etc.) and despite the change of main caretaker figures there is no vehement change in the feeling of solicitude the boy experiences: he still operates on the same working model as he used to until that age, and it is only fortified furthermore as years pass. let’s not forget ages 6-7 are in a different developmental stage cognition wise: the children are at the intuitive thought substage in which children tend to become very inquisitive and ask many questions, beginning the use of primitive reasoning. centration (the act of focusing all attention on one characteristic or dimension of a situation meanwhile disregarding all others), conservation, irreversibility (a concept that is developed in this stage which is closely related to the ideas of centration and conservation - refers to when children are unable to mentally reverse a sequence of events), class inclusion, and transitive inference are all characteristics of pre-operative (piaget’s theory) thought. to comprehend how seunghwa must view the world we must understand the stage he is in, meaning he will not be able to focus on anything besides himself as it is the sole dimension his cognition might centralize on and whenever approached with other perspectives, his cognition fails to recognize them as so -- as if, the others must always view matters through his own eyes. to summarize: seungjae is not as differently viewed than their mother. seunghwa sees him as if some sort of a substitute to her existence and role in his life, as seungjae become the second main caretaker role in his life. these are mixed feelings which make it hard to determine whether the oldest brother’s influence is negative, positive, or absolutely necessary for his development towards being a healthy adult.

seungmin (older brother/middle child): middle kids could get lost in the mix and feel left out of special roles and privileges, or end up being especially emotionally savvy, because they’re always challenged to stay dialed in and navigate the goings-on of the people around them. the charismatic, leader-like caretaker roles are occupied by the oldest and the infantile, spoiled, carefree roles by the youngest --- leaving the middle child without any clear parts and roles to take in their family, often making them feel lost and uncertain of themselves. they’re people’s pleasers, always wanting to make everyone pleased as a result of that.

seungmin and seunghwa are in constant altercations and arguments which are incessant.behind the deportments, behaviors, and words seungmin elucidates it becomes clear often times that he perhaps tends to hold some sort of prejudice against his youngest brother; he may in fact blame him for their state (sick mother and estranged father, seungjae’s incessant hard work to provide, etc.) therefore, act upon it with hostility. after four years of being the youngest, seunghwa has ‘stolen’ this role away from him leaving seungmin confused and lost in their hierarchy. now, in the midst of the journey to search for his own identity that seems to be somewhat fragile and not completely established yet (despite passing adolescence) the young boy lacks clear guidance and often releases him frustrations and exasperation on his youngest brother, as he’s the easiest target. that affects seunghwa in a way which makes his view on people should not be trusted/everyone’s blaming him/etc grow stronger each time they find themselves fighting. even regarding mundane things. perhaps seungmin’s contrast (in both behavior and morals) to the boy may ultimately lead him towards the so desired salvation of the identity crisis and figuring a thing or two about life. whether positive or negative -- it is indeterminable.

ian: now, regarding ian it seems as if this regression in his behavior is mainly due to her affect and i’ll explain: as a part of her personality ian happens to be softer, warmer, kinder in comparison to both of his brothers, in all aspects. during most of his life he has learned that the main caretaker figure in his life will not assert security in senses of emotional solicitude. he has acquired that this figure will not provide him the psychological security which he requires as a human being, but rather, solely physical security (home, food, clothes, etc.) with this work model built to him he arrives into the relationship with ian charged with a negative point of view over relationships of any type -- as previously addressed he believes that people are not to be trusted and would not be capable of sufficing emotional support in times when needed albeit, is shown differently. it is displayed by the unconditional love which ian expresses to him: she constantly listens to whichever he has to say (redundant or not), provides him with affable physical proximity (hugs, gentle and fond touches), and offers her psychological help to overcome hurdles throughout his life (gives advice and tips, makes sure he knows how to approach different situations, etc.) all of these do compensate over the lack of these traits by his mother during the first years of his life. ian often views him as her own son consequently, treats him as such and their bond gradually becomes stronger than the bond seunghwa possess with his own mother. it is as if some sort of an amendment is made to his heart, and seunghwa now learns how to trust the world and the people in it with her. albeit, he has become more excessively stubborn, childish, and spoiled than ever before and there is going to be a time in the future when this type of regressions will be determined to have been necessary for him to grow into a healthier person once he reaches adulthood or was it unnecessary and perhaps ian’s role in his eyes only leaded him to furthermore confusion about the world and ambivalent feelings towards the people in it; whether to trust or not, or whether he should lay his heart bare only towards people who display similar behavioral attributes (such as warmth, softness, etc.) that could easily manage to manipulate him into thinking that he’s loved when he isn’t. only time will tell.

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supergirlimaginesfic-blog · 7 years

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Lena Luthor x reader (No more masks, I won’t hold back)

Request: "The candy is for the trick or treaters not you, quit eating it all " with lena

a/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN you wonderful ghouls and pals of mine! Whether you celebrate it or not, have a kickass day, stay safe, and do all the things you want to do, no matter what it is that makes you happy - today and all the days!!! :D

Anyway... how was THAT for an episode that we just watched?? I am STILL reeling about all the Supergirl Ladies content we are having and I have never felt so ALIVE!!!

Here’s a short cute one for y’all though! I freaking LOVE domestic Lena alright!! I swear it is the greatest concept and not only does she deserve this, but we too also Deserve This. Now also imagine Lena having to deal with someone who has approximately zero impulse control?? That’s you this time LMAO. Happy Halloween and happy Tuesday!!

- - - - -

There were only two occasions you ever looked forward to in your life, and since your birthday wasn’t considered a national holiday by the nation yet (how rude of them honestly) you had to settle for the next best thing.

Autumn was your favourite season - you romanticized every single aspect of it that could possibly be cherished to the high heavens and back again. The crunch of leaves on sidewalks under your boots, and leather jacket and sweater weather made you come alive when the rest of nature around you was settling down and shedding.

The colours around you and the anticipation of keeping away indoors to stay warm - it was what kept you going, to say the least.

Even the pumpkin flavoured everything you didn’t bat an eyelash at, and so often some of your friends have expressed their ire of your tendency to go overboard with the festivities.

How could you have helped yourself if it was just simply more fun to act like a suburban housewife and decorate your entire house in Halloween decorations and buy an army’s worth of candy rather than to deny yourself the simple happiness of doing so?

Naysayers be damned, you’ll eat your themed cookies and ensure everything from your house to your car to nearly every single orifice of your body smelled of pumpkin, you’ll eat all your Halloween candy and only regret it for the next few days, and you’ll damn well call anything and everything ‘spoopy’ until the retail industry pries it from your cold, dead hands and forces aisles and aisles of Christmas decorations down your throat.

It was also Lena’s first official Halloween, and much to your friends’ amusement and great exasperation, this very fact seemed to make your excitement reach unprecedented heights.

She’s only been your girlfriend for something just over half of a year, but already you could very well say you knew each other well enough to not be so surprised by each other’s funny quirks.

After you finished work you barrelled right through your front door and darted into the shower the instant that you could, throwing on your favourite obnoxiously bright coloured knit sweater and sneaking six packets of candy into your pocket, for later, obviously.

You promised Lena to bring out all the stops for her first Halloween experience, and you were beyond ecstatic that you got to be the one who did this for her.

You were pondering just how lucky you were to have Lena in your life as you laid out the ready to bake Pillsbury pumpkin and ghost cookies before putting them in the oven.

You’d tried convincing Lena that she didn’t need to leave work too early; Halloween is a late affair anyway.

For her part, she seemed just as excited as you about celebrating, perhaps it was your zealous eagerness that was infectious, but more and more Lena was becoming as taken with the day as you were, and you thought it was absolutely adorable.

Still, her text message to you made it evident she was insistent about coming home early to be with you.

Lena: “I let Jess go home early again... I’ll see you soon :)”

you: “was she just as perplexed as she was the last time you told her to go home early?”

Lena: “It seems as though she’s stopped asking questions and just accepted it.”

you: “seems wise, especially considering what you get up to when you do leave early, I imagine she wouldn’t want to know anyway ;)”

Lena: “And you seem to be wanting to push your buttons tonight, what makes you think you’ll get so lucky?”

you: “you are the light of my life and I am more than lucky to take anything you are so gracious to give me, Ms Luthor”

Lena: “Yeah, yeah, I get it. No need to kiss ass, I’ll see you soon babe ;)”

you: “Love you! Can’t wait <3″

You grinned to yourself as you put the cookies in the oven, marvelling at just how easily it is to smile when it comes to your girlfriend.

With nothing much else left to do, you sit down on your couch and peruse through Netflix’s Halloween selection, wondering if you could convince Lena to watch a horror movie with you.

It’s probably about fifteen minutes later and you’re in the middle of the third episode of Mindhunter when you hear the door open and you turn around to catch the figure of your girlfriend by the threshold.

“Hey babe,” you smile broadly as you take notice of her casual clothes.

“Hi yourself, (Y/N),” she says, walking over to your place on the couch as you lean your head back for her to give you a kiss.

She glances at the TV and squints her eyes suspiciously at you, “you started another episode?”

Your eyes widen and you try to hide your sheepish smirk, “no.”

Lena raises a stern eyebrow and you’re becoming less and less successful at hiding your guilty grin.

“I don’t like it when you lie to me, (Y/N).”

She leans down closer to your lips and you can feel her breath. You move up to kiss her but she dodges the move.

“Uh-uh, tell me the truth,” she says slowly.

You stare up at her again, your head leaning back as you gaze at her chastising look upside down. You smile softly to yourself at the sight of her, the teasing and fondness masked behind a veil of reprimand, and you think you zone out for a little bit in a dopey trance when you hear her click her tongue at you in frustration.

“Don’t do that.”

“What? What did I do?”

“How am I supposed to be angry with you if you keep looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” you ask half curiously.

Lena takes a deep breath and a smile forms on her lips, she shakes her head as she grabs your cheeks and kisses you.

“I can never say no to that face of yours, even if you do try to sneak some TV behind my back.”

“I did not,” you grumble petulantly, watching as her eyebrow arches again when she makes her way to sit beside you. “Entirely.”

“Mhm, right,” she remarks with a fond smirk. “How was your day, darling?” She presses up against you and leans her head on your shoulder.

“It was awesome, everyone dressed up which isn’t really something I’d expected. How about you?”

“It was a day... It’s rather difficult to talk Kara out of an idea once she has one, isn’t it?”

“What did she do now?”

“I believe she and Winn had some bet which she lost, so she walked around the office today in one of those inflatable dinosaur costumes that are always circulating the internet?”

You burst into laughter at the thought and wondered how Winn convinced Kara to walk around in an obnoxious costume for a day when her crime-fighting extracurriculurs were to be considered.

“I don’t really think she considered that she could actually lose,” Lena answers your wordless question.

“Those are always the best bets.”

“So what’s on the agenda today? Are you going to make me watch some ridiculous horror movie so I can snuggle up next to you?” Lena asks conspiratorially.

Despite yourself, you blush at the remark and try to hide your grin.

“I was, actually.”

“You’re so transparent,” Lena says, laughing as she moves in to kiss you.

“Not my fault you’re so irresistible,” you retort with a little pout.

Lena levels her look to you and mumbles against your lips, “you don’t need an excuse to hold me, (Y/N).”

“It’s Halloween anyway, what else could get us into the mood-”

Lena interrupts you as she kisses you, moving so she’s straddling you and pushes you into the couch.

“I know plenty that could get us in the mood,” she comments in a low voice.

She grinds softly into you and you groan, your hands moving to her hips as you chase her lips.

The rustling of something Lena’s disrupted distracts her and she looks down at your leg. She eyes your pocket suspiciously before she snaps her eyes up at you.

“Do you seriously have candy in your pocket?”

“No,” your eyes widen and you make a valiant effort to hide the humour in your lie.

“You’re in a dishonest mood today, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it this is my favourite!”

“Darling, I love you, but your sweet tooth is entirely ruining the meaning of ‘assorted candy’. You get to keep whatever is in your pocket for the rest of the night,” she says with a half-serious warning.

“Yes ma’am,” you mutter as you try to tug Lena back towards you.

“Nope,” she says, refusing to let herself be pulled in.

You look at her with your best puppy eyes and make a grand pout, blinking your eyes in utter sadness and deprivation.

“You’re going to burn the cookies. Don’t think you can use me as your excuse for gross negligence,” she remarks with a mischievous smile.

Lena moves back to her seat on the couch and you make a great show of slowly getting up and dragging your feet toward the kitchen, muttering just loud enough so she can hear.

“I guess! I guess I’ll go, I guess! I didn’t want kisses anyway, it’s fine!” you continue until your voice is nothing but a muted lament from the kitchen.

You take the cookies out of the oven, exceedingly impressed by Lena’s timing, no doubt, and you eye the bowl of candy that’s on the kitchen counter next to the tray of cookies.

You move to stick your hand out and you make just the slightest ruffling sound when you hear Lena’s voice calling out to you from the living room.

“The candy is for the trick-or-treaters, not you. Quit eating it all!”

You drop your jaw slightly in surprise and wonder if Lena’s got eyes on the back of her head.

“Hurry up and get back here before we’re interrupted for the remainder of the night and you regret all of your choices.”

You nearly slip in your socks rushing back to Lena, catching that look of amusement that you’ve noticed is becoming a common expression of hers, her eyes crinkled and lips twisted into a subtle smirk as she watches you dive onto the couch beside her.

True to her observation, you’re about half an hour into Friday the 13th Part VI when the beginnings of the never-ending doorbell mark the start of the evening.

You, being the child at heart, are exceedingly impressed by the sheer number of Supergirls you see; pirate Supergirl, zombie Supergirl, you think you see a velociraptor Supergirl to which you were witness to a brief argument of, ‘it’s Halloween I can be whoever I want to be’, and you whispered to the kid your shared affinity for dinosaurs, to which you received a beaming smile.

You can’t help it but you laugh when you see a child dressed in a laughing-crying emoji costume, and it wasn’t long at all before Lena’s become envious of you that she’s joining you at the door.

In between Halloween-goers, you find yourself sat on the stairs and you’re making out with Lena like two teenagers with the house to yourselves before the next doorbell interrupts you, and you always half-heartedly groan at the distraction and Lena dutifully shoves you toward the door.

Once, a solitary scientist shows up at your door, her mother standing a few feet away from her and the small girls looks up at your tall figures.

“Hi, I’m a scientist,” she says, completely opting out of the traditional greeting.

“That’s awesome, you probably need all the energy you can get to save the world, right?” you say as you drop some candy into her bag.

“Yeah, my mom says too much candy isn’t good though.”

“She’s right, my girlfriend is a scientist too, she only eats healthy food.”

The girl looks up at Lena and her eyes widen in wonder.

“You’re a real scientist?”

“I am, aren’t you?”

The girl tilts her head and her eyes widen again in realization. “Yeah.”

Lena grins as the girl happily waves goodbye, skipping to her mother who’s shaking her head in amusement at her daughter.

When it’s later in the evening and the number of trick-or-treaters has dwindled and you’re almost finished your third movie, you interrupt the B-horror movie you and Lena had opted for in favour of light conversation.

“You gonna dress up next season?” you ask as someone on the screen trips over their own feet.

Lena’s head is leaning against your shoulder and she snuggles closer to you under the blanket draped over you two.

“I suppose so, I definitely will when we have kids of our own though.”

You think you feel your heart skip a beat and you hear the low trumpeting of your heart in your ears. You think you’re projecting, totally having misheard Lena and you don’t dare comment on it at all, lest you make everything awkward and more troubled than it ought to be.

Your silence goes entirely noticed, however, and you don’t have to see Lena to know her eyes have shot to the size of golf balls and you can feel her entire body tense beside you.

You keep your eyes stubbornly trained on the TV, trying to steady your breaths but you learn that the mindful attempt of regulating a natural phenomenon is far too much work.

Lena’s uncharacteristically stuttering when she speaks up, “I just- I meant, that if... in the circumstance that could ever be a possibility-”

You move your arm and put a hand on her knee, your other arm bringing her in close and you squeeze reassuringly.

“Kid talk already, eh?”

You feel her indignant blush and you laugh, feeling her sink her head deeper into you if it were even possible.

“I’m sorry, I’m just bugging you,” you amend gently. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper as it’s muffled by your clothing.

“So we’ll get there when we get there. And I know I can take on everything with you, and I in fact want to.”

You squeeze her again and feel her wrap her arms around your midsection, you adjust yourself accordingly to let her.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think I could have a better Halloween partner than you.”

“How charming and thoughtful of you to say,” she says in a teasing lilt, taking her head out of somewhere from under your arm and resting her chin on your shoulder.

You turn your head slightly to look at her, adding an afterthought.

“Or a better partner in general.”

She looks up at you through her lashes, studying the soft look your face has taken when you look at her, and after a long moment she purses her lips for a kiss.

You turn your body to her and smile into her kiss, grinning at the soft exhalation of air she lets out when she melts into your touch.

You tug on her waist to bring her on top of you, Lena falling into your lap easily as you run your hands up and down her back in a soothing motion. Lena moans lowly in your mouth as your hands slip under her shirt, finally touching skin.

She rocks into you softly and your jaw drops a little, Lena’s touch tracing your lip gently before nipping at it.

You think you feel so viscerally shaken when Lena abruptly pulls away, leaving you feeling particularly cold and at a loss of contact.

By the time you figure out what’s going on, she’s already just made it to the bottom of the stairs.

“Hurry up, babe, or you won’t get to see the other costume I have in store for you.”

For the life of you, you think you black out momentarily when you process Lena’s words, and you think in that split second of seeming eternity, you caught a glimpse of your whole life flashing before you.

If there was any indication of eager excitement on your face, Lena most certainly caught it if the wink and sultry eyes she gives you is anything to go by.

You were proud to say you tripped only once bolting up the stairs; that and a handful of other bruises you garnered that night surely ended up being worth your troubles.

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