#part of my job is to teach dissections to kids

[snowspot]

blindspot

[southernbelllle]

John Miller Headcannons

Some x reader, some random

Word Count: 2k

AN: Oh my God. I think about him so much. I just wanted to talk about him. I wish he was real. This pic 🥵.

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John is the type of man you could just sit and listen to for hours.

He is a very passionate man, hence his high rank in the military. He doesn't half ass things.

He'll talk your ear off about the symbolism and metaphor of life; the joys of finding figurative language.

His favorite book (by a long shot,) is "The Sun Also Rises," by William Faulkner.

The general disillusionment of America that is central to the novel intrigued him in such a way that he himself found a strange twinge of inspiration in such disparity.

He knew that there was so many real life "Jake Barnes'" out there, some as young as the budding men he taught. It struck that fatherly urge he possessed to "help" or, "fix."

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He loves his job. That's the long and short of it.

Some people are born unto this earth with a singular, sole purpose,

and John Miller's is to lead America's youth.

On the battlefield, yes, but more so in the classroom.

He can connect to every kid who steps in "Mr. Miller's" classroom.

Every highschooler, boy or girl, who has stepped into his space would come to know that they were not just gaining a teacher, but a confidant.

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The inflection in which he delivers his lectures is cushiony and tender.

He dissects his lessons into many different parts in order to help his students understand the source material.

He'll tell you about the time a boy fell asleep during his lesson on the many poems of William Wordsworth, and how he gently tapped the boy's shoulder to wake him up.

"I'm sorry Mr. Miller," the boy said, "But you shouldn't have read the poems like they were bedtime stories."

John laughs every time he tells that tale.

No paddles or write-ups saw the young boy that day.

John knew he was right.

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His teaching outfit consisted of a dark brown corduroy suit, fit with elbow pads of course, and light khaki pants.

He wore tiny golden glasses with circular lenses.

He carried a brick red briefcase that was usually seen spread atop your kitchen table as he took a red pen to his student's papers.

You'd polish it until it shined like the top of the Chrysler building!

It was your civil duty to keep him dapper!!

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John Miller is a red-blooded American.

Which means, naturally, that he is an absolute baseball FANATIC.

When his principal approached him about the possibility of him coaching the team in the Spring, he basically pounced on the man.

He's played baseball, he's watched baseball, he's been to more games than he can count, it's a pure love for the sport.

The game is like a dance, a dance that when followed right, you could take the cake every time.

(This philosophy would help him in the war too.)

When he's not thinking about you, he's thinking about baseball.

He's sifting through the memories of happy high school boys rushing to fist bump him after practice,

he's thinking about his star player who had never wore a pitcher's mitt before he asked him to. Claiming that he could tell he had talent just by watching the boy and his friend throw a crumpled-up paper ball from one side of the room to another.

He's reminiscing on how last year, he'd led the team to state, and the rush of Gatorade that was dumped on him when they won. The big, fat smooch you planted on his lips when you ran down from the bleachers.

It's Miller's America's favorite pastime!

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He is a well-respected teacher within the halls of Thomas Alva Edison High.

He is the teacher that would let his students play trashket ball as a review game and would do absolutely anything to help a child if they ever were in need.

But at the same time, his students knew there was no bullshit to be tolerated in his classroom.

I believe the kids these days would say he has "reasonable cashouts."

Stern, but caring!

The Juniors would tell the Sophomores, "Oh you're going into 11th grade? You better hope you get Mr. Miller! He's the only teacher I've ever learned anything from."

So when the news broke that Mr. Miller would be leaving to join the fight, a dark, heavy cloud parked in the sky above the school.

While yes, you were absolutely heart broken and were going to worry about him every. single. second he was in that uniform, there were a countless number of students, young adults, college goers, baseball players, and after school studiers completely broken at the news.

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During the war, the only time he felt at home was when he was bossing his men around during the mission to find Ryan.

The young men, all reminded him of the student archetypes he'd taught before.

Jackson was the student who excelled at book work. Finished at a crazy pace, and then would run up to his desk and say, "I'm done Mr. Miller, what do you want me to do now?"

Wade was the quiet boy who'd sit in the back. He was good at his lessons and kept to himself. Until it came to partner work, where he would dominate the assignment and show headstrong qualities where it mattered.

Reiben was the rebellious student who always claimed that he didn't give a rip about school, and acted out for laughs from the class. When the clock struck 3:00 however, he was apologizing to his teacher and turning in the assignment.

He was a good captain because of the lessons he'd learned throughout his teachings.

Another fun fact, he would grade the boy's letters back home.

"Hey Capn' I wann send this letter on home to D. I wont her to think im gettin' real smart like though, so tell me if i wrote anythin' dumb."

Miller would just rewrite the letter.

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Coming home to you was in a word, euphoric. He was nervous, initially, but when he saw you sitting on the brick steps of your back porch. It was like no time had passed at all.

You were stitching a brand-new set of elbow pads onto his sport coat.

His mind stopped and sputtered.

Normalcy.

A sight he never thought he'd ever see again in his life.

And yet there you sat.

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The first hug he tugged you into didn't end for a good 20 minutes.

It was like that last scene in tangled.

You two had sunk to the ground, tightly coiled together in an embrace that couldn't be thwarted be any mere bullet or tank.

He inhaled your floral perfume through both his nostrils and his mouth.

He brushed your hair to the side and felt the softness only derived from blissful innocence.

Your first kiss reunited was even better.

Like you two were back in the college classroom where he first laid eyes on you, begging to whatever power that would listen to bring a beautiful model like you to a nerd like him.

Little did he know you were praying the same thing.

He tasted your lips.

Your pink, fruity lips dabbled with a cherry lip gloss,

lingered on his when you had (finally) pulled away.

He took a moment to bring your face into his hands, just pausing to take in all of your features.

Like a portrait he'd seen in an artbooks a thousand times over, only for this time, to see such a beauty in real life.

His light eyes looked into yours with perpetual joy and solemn. You could see the intense waves of his of emotions swirling in his soul.

You wrapped your arms around his neck to pulled him into your chest; he wept.

It was so nice to feel loved again. He didn't have to crumble under the facade of a straight edge military captain.

He didn't have to cry into his hands all alone anymore. You knew exactly who he was, he had nothing to hide around you.

Here, he was your schoolteacher husband,

that was all he ever needed to be again.

Except for that one thing....

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When John comes home, you take it upon yourself to make sure that he is fed, and clean.

He doesn't tell you everything, but you knew that his time in the service was more than painful. Excruciating.

So much so that he preferred not to be alone with his thoughts.

So, your help is MUCH welcomed.

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He would stand beside you as you cooked dinner.

He watched as you would turn the knobs on the stove and gently grasp the spatula to plunge into the casserole dish.

Your hands were as steady as an oak branch on a quiet summer night.

He couldn't help but notice.

He shoved his own into his pockets.

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For a long time after returning, he wouldn't shower without you, not that you minded of course.

The pampering of it all soothed him in a way that he had almost forgotten.

It was not sexual (most of the time...) more often than not, it was anything but.

You'd bring a stool in for him to sit on as you massaged your fingers through his short brown hair.

His favorite of all time though, was the good soak he'd get by sitting in the bath being bathed by you.

He could stretch his long legs out in the porcelain and leave himself all to you.

One such moment, about a week after he got back, he found himself in that position. You softly poured a pitcher of warm water on his head.

He felt the warmth cascade down his neck, to his upper back, back into the pool that he lay in.

He was so relaxed, that he failed to notice the involuntary twitch of his hand that hung around the white rim of the tub.

You glanced down at his convulsion; his eyes still shut from the feeling of sensation you had given him.

"John?" You'd whispered. "Are you alright?"

"Hmmm?" He hummed, barley paying attention to the worry in your voice.

"Your hand," you subtly brought his twitching fingers into yours. "Did I hurt you somehow?"

"My, oh-" he plunged his hand back into the soapy water. The realization of the reality unfolding in front of him hitting him like a train. "That's just," he mumbles. "That's just something I picked up overseas." He nervously fidgeted with his hands underneath the surface.

"John...." you brought your hands to drape over his shoulders. "You don't have to hide from me." You hushed into his ear. "I know that parts of you have hardened," you pecked his temple with plump lips. "But I'll always love those parts too."

"I-I'm sorry, I-" He stumbled again. "I was just in this- this" For the first time in his life, John Miller couldn't find a way to formulate his words. "This place, P-" he stuttered. "P-Portsmouth."

You shushed him and began to knead his temples with a butterfly's touch. Gently soothing him back into a relaxing lull. You then picked up his still convulsing hand and brought it to your lips with a sweet kiss.

It was that action that told him everything he needed to know about you once again.

He had picked the right one.

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"He have his goodness now. God forbid it's taken from him."

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[he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle]

15 people, 15 questions

Tagged by @lurkingshan thanks friend!

1. are you named after anyone?

Nope.

2. when was the last time you cried?

Just 15 minutes ago. My brother died earlier this year and this is our first Christmas without him.

3. do you have kids?

Yes. 1 adult and 2 older teens.

4. what sports do you play/have you played?

I ran Cross Country when I was younger, but these days I'm pretty sedentary.

5. do you use sarcasm?

Only when writing. I am unusually kind in person.

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

Whether their smiles reach their eyes.

7. what’s your eye color?

Hazel.

8. scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings. I used to love horror, but stopped when I had young babies in my house. For some reason, the horror hit harder and was anxiety inducing instead of fun. These days the only horror I enjoy has to be really smart and beautiful (ie Hannibal) so that a different part of my brain is engaged while watching.

9. any talents?

I speak 5 languages and pick them up pretty easily. I am also a good writer and okay artist. My home is full floor to ceiling my art (and my kids' art) and full of quirky art installations too. Yet it's all very tasteful and gets lots of compliments with lots of people telling me is magazine-worthy.

10. where were you born?

Texas

11. what are your hobbies?

Engaging in stories (reading, watching, and writing), painting, language learning, evening walks.

12. do you have any pets?

Not since my dog died 14 years ago. Will probably get another dog when I have no more kids living at home, but I've told them all they are welcome to stay with me forever so who knows.

13. how tall are you?

Taller than 97% of all US women.

14. favorite subject in school?

Human Anatomy and Physiology (loved dissecting human cadavers!). Close second is Physics 2 (loved using calculus to solve the problem in 2 lines of math instead of 25 lines of trigonometry!).

15. dream job?

I've been doing it for 19 years. I am an author. I've got 5 non-fiction books published under my legal name (including 2 best selling textbooks) and about 15 fiction books under a pseudonym. I supplement my income with speaking engagements and teaching classes, running a few websites, and managing a wholesale distribution platform for an artisanal food import company. Can you tell I like doing a variety of things that workout different parts of my brain?

Tagging @murphyhatesme @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @sorry-bonebag @asexual-fandom-queen @twig-tea @tenprems @vapid-gay @guzhu-furen @gunsatthaphan @absolutebl @lymeandcoconut @reformedcharacter @iamthelightening @tiggymalvern

[goldenbloodytears]

Please do make some about Danny and Sam.

👍👍part 1 who is Superman

Superman part of the analysis:

Superman as a character is complex, but also really sympathetic when wrote right, rarely he if sadly. He is seen as simple good two shoes, boring and hypocritical for a lot of people.

Can see he imagining a perfect world were superman job is just help in emergency and natural disasters and the rest of time he can be just Clark together with everyone doing the best for everyone. In his words superman is what he can do not who he is.

In my opinion the best of Superman comics are the ones were the point is not a fight but finding different ways to stop the situation and don't cause damage, his whole life is damage control, even his powers make him the perfect first attended.

In a comic Superman and Wonder Woman are talking about how he needs training in fighting and he responded saying that he doesn't want to be good at it, that he feels he it's wrong to do so and he only fights because he knows someone needs to and he is usually the more strong and durable around, read earth.

That makes his deal with Lex Luthor interesting because Lex is in the center of humanity in a way, he's in the vanguard. Tech, politics and even media, Luthor is in the scene soo every time he deals with him, Superman gets throw in the public eye.

On a justice league animation, I think, he says how he can't wear a mask like other heros because he's already suspicious to humanity with his face laid bare and alien origin confirmed, he always on thin ice.

He safety lies on how long he can go unnoticed and insignificant to most people.

Clark can only be a person only when nobody knows that he can be superman. The moment they do he is alien man no legal rights McGee, and he can never lay low or just be again in the best of situations and be a thing to be dissected, and torn a part to study on the worst ones, making braniac gimmick of completely studying and then destroying everything a personal nightmare turned reality.

The more you learn about superman lore the more you stop thinking of him as a space Jesus and start seeing him as some weird guy just trying to make it in America, like he wasn't born there but he sure was raised as one, he saw the best humanity can offer, and he just giving back all the kindness he had received growing up.

Some of my favorite comics shows he growing up, learning himself as and being perceived as weird or creepy and still beeing loved and accepted, in fucking Kansas. Some comics the whole town of Smallville is in on it, like yes that's just the Kent's child, he is a little different and could juggle tractors like they weighted as much as air, but he is so polite and meek and kind, and the Kents, such a nice couple, always helping everyone in town, they always wanted kids, but they weren't able to conceive, they founding and raising Clark is like a fairy tale coming true.

The Kent's used to be hippies, then the high school sweet hearts settled down back were they grow up , in a farm living of the land, found a baby that come to them from the stars, took one look at him and decided that they were his family, the watched a shit ton of sci Fi movies and tried preparing him the best way they could for this world.

A lot of importance is given at his father teaching him, both the alien one teaching him about his home planet, their down fall, all the greed and desire to consume and conquer and and just thinking about what you want now and never about what others will need in the future. How he is the last of then, how he must uphold their culture, their existence and never let their mistakes repeat.

He doesn't know krypton, didn't even know that is what he is from until adulthood in some stories, he was different, but that was it, growing up he just knew what he wasn't.

Now a hologram of a man he doesn't even know appears to him like a Shakespearean ghost telling him he is his actual dead and he is indeed all alone in the universe and said universe is also kinda in his shoulders now, And Clark a kid with no past become a man with a mission, and so much more questions than before.

When Zod appears determined to conquer Earth, Clark has no choice but kill him, is his duty deal with kryptonian affairs and keep Earth save. When he can't find a peaceful solution he does kill, he hates it but he knows that is the option with less death in the end.

He already lost a home once, he will do everything to not lose another, be it fighting and even killing foes to recycling and always using the public transport.

But his other dad also was a big teacher, Jon is a strong man, the good kind of strong, the type to always help when they can and see the good in every one, a hard worker who refuse to take advantage of others, so different to that white collars from big cities that are destroying this world. Someone always looking out for the underdog.

He wants to be a hero that saves people but he doesn't want to fight much less kill.

Oooh yes, I can see what you mean—I’m always enthralled by how much superman is commentary on the immigrant experience, makes sense when you consider the Jewish origins of the comics. I do feel like it’s forgotten about when not thinking very in-depth about the general story/mythos/etc. very interesting!

Honestly he’s kinda relatable.

[yanzinator]

I need to rant rn about how much I hate my dad, in a place he won't find out about it, so I'm doing it here. Be warned, this is very negative about Judaism. If you're a convert or a goy, or whatever else, don't interpret this as integral part of it, it's just certain circles within certain circles that I'm in, but if you don't want to see the darker side of Judaism, maybe don't read on. Also trauma dumping!!

I fucking hate my dad, which is hard, because he's a hard person to hate. He has fantastic people skills, he knows everyone, and he's friends with everyone he meets, he seems really kind, and also he's really rich. He's a millionaire, we live in basically a mansion, so every time I tell someone "yeah I'm mendy's son" they're like "oh you're so lucky" "that must be so great" "he's such an awesome person" and I have to pretend I agree with them or else I look like a spoiled asshole of a child, and it always feels like I'm stabbing myself. He's an egomaniacal control freak, he thinks of me as his property, I know this both because of how he acts, and the fact that he makes sure to regularly explicitly remind me of this. "you're my son, you belong to me. I own you", any time I'm slightly out of line. Which is a lot because his standards are insane. My hair is currently about 5 inches I think. From my forehead it reaches to right under my eyes, I grew it from a buzzcut with no in between cutting. I use hairclips to keep my bangs off my eyes, and I regularly have to threaten him with never talking to him again so he doesn't buzzcut it while I sleep. He makes sure I know about that one reel he saw on insta where a guy cut a line on his friends head, so the friend had to buzzcut the rest. If I want anything at all, there's no way to get it other than making it myself from scrap or paper, or going through him. Now to be fair, he's usually very generous, because he has the money, but if it's something he doesn't like, and remember he's a religious nutjob so most things, I'm out of luck. Even if it's a 2 dollar cup with a girl, any girl tbc, doesn't matter how tznius she is, because it's too inappropriate. I want to run away, get a job, live alone, be financially independant, if extremely unstable, because even with a landlord breathing down my neck, at least he won't be looking at my bookmarks. Problem is, I don't know how, because I have no secular education. When I was a kid, we lived in Buffalo NY, we were poor back then, we lived in a bad neighborhood, my mom hated the place, but I loved it. I went to a tiny private Jewish school, had 60 students total, but they taught well, I learned properly, I had friends, everything was normal. By the time I was 10, My dad was doing really well, not rich well, but he had a lot of assets, a few thousands in savings, we moved to mexico because of a business opportunity, and there I had no friends but worse, no education. Now there were schools, but they weren't Jewish schools, and god forbid someone with foreskin teach me how to find X, so instead, he financially strained himself to find me tutors. I do appreciate that, he worked really hard to emulate school for me. My curriculum when I was 12 was more intense than actual school was, and now I think like an Amorai, I know details about tanach no even thinks about, I can tell you mechanics about the world that make me look like conspiracy theorist, but no that's just tanya, and if you have a question in Halacha, I can answer you as well as a Rabbi, and if you want to know where your poop go after digestion, I know this guy on tumblr... Taxes? I don't know what the first form even looks like, what name to look up. Job application? Like from the movies? And what would I put on it? "Dissected a worm in 6th grade, top of my class in hebrew, 18 years experience as a professional Jew". Eventually I did have an opportunity, when I was 15, I went to Yeshiva in florida, they had a class where they "taught" GED. So I'm there right. I go to the rosh yeshiva, "I want to learn GED", They gave me this thick as book, and told me that they have a teacher come in for an hour a day. I could be a loner who learned with him and give up 1 of 2 hours of free time that I had in the entire 24 hour day, which btw included 7 hours of sleep, because the rosh yeshiva read an article saying adults need 7-9 hours of sleep, never mind we're teenagers who need 8-10, -block text limit

and that the range isn't "everyone needs to get at least 8 at most 10", so much as "some need 8 some need 10", but no we all get 7!!!, and then 2 hours of free time, I had to dedicate half of that to learning GED, and the teacher's teaching style was, "you see this page. Read it. Then read the next page.". When I ask my dad what I'm supposed to do with this, he tells me not to worry. When I get married (between ages 24-26) (to a religious Jewish girl), he'll buy me a house, then I'll go to shul and study all day, and he'll pay me a salary, and I'll be a talmid chacham who learns torah all day, a perfect chassid. What if I want to do something else? "you have an internet connection, find some online course". I quit that first Yeshiva after half a year, and went to another Yeshiva in tzefat. That one had more secular studies, it taught us from a 1st grade level, and it was preparing us for Bagruyot (12th grade tests) and we had a year to catch up. Also, they made a point to never allow more secular studies than holy studies in the curriculum. we had ~2 hours of free time, but 8 hours of sleep! but also the non free time, the lessons were much, much harder... also also Mikvahs! sorry to digress but fucking. In tzefat, they were mandatory for a certain period, not all year, but enough that I remember vividly, I often see people online talking positively about Mikvah, so does my family, I know how to pretend I like it but it is a fucked up concept. When I was with my uncle, he's ultra religious and very convincing so I'd go to the mikvah with him, he was very respectful, he waited outside until I finished and then go after, and he'd always take me while the local minyanim were praying so I was alone. He's the only person who ever took my feelings into account, but even then, occasionally someone else was also going at the same time, but it was one person so I just had to face the wall and it'd be fine mostly. In yeshiva, the guy who kept track right, he was respectful, waited outside the changing room, but unless you wanted to get up at 5am, and go in when everyone else is asleep, though even then you'd be going in with 2 or 3 other students, after chassidus boker, you had 30 minutes to dip, and this yeshiva had hundreds of students, and not a particularly large mikvah, now I'm sure no one was looking at my dick, but that didn't make me comfortable. Also two of the rabbis also dipped at this time, so that ++. Anyway, after a year, I managed to get 3 yechidot in gemara, but I was so stressed that I was considering and had already planned out my suicide, so when oct 7th happened, I used the excuse to not go back to israel (I was home for the holidays) and I have not went back since. So anyway, my lack of education is also blamed on me. And hey maybe it is my fault, I don't fucking care, I still have no way out of here. I hate my beard so fucking much, I want to wax it off, I want it to hurt, I want to feel it seperating from my skin, "they are wires that connect you directly to god", god's getting a direct live feed of all my spite. I hate everything about everything I have to deal with, but I have to pretend I'm so happy because from the outside that's what it looks like, and if I don't appreciate my good fortune I'm clearly just a spoiled rich kid.

[ilikekidsshows]

What make you think is stoping Fu from telling cat anything? He seems fine telling Marinette even train her to be the next guardian but he constantly neglect cat as if he doesn't exist. Syren only has him come out because ladybug nudge him. It feels like he forgot he has two chosen instead of just one.

Ooooh, shit, look at the time, it's Dunking on Fu Hours on this blog again! (I kid, I'll try to be fair.)

A big part of Fu's refusal to deal with Cat Noir is that he didn't even want to have the one student he did end up accepting. When Tikki needs treatment in season one, Fu pretends to be some kind of vet so that Marinette won't be coming back to him with questions or anything. When it was time for him to reveal himself to Marinette, he only did so because the grimoire couldn't be left not dealt with. And even then it seems that he didn't tell Marinette much about the work he did on translating the grimoire. 'Syren' is not only an important episode to Fu's relationship with Adrien, because it's also when Marinette solves a problem Fu couldn't solve himself. That's when he decides there's worth in training Marinette.

Fu is one of the worst mentors I've ever seen in media, and a lot of that is because he doesn't want to be a mentor. However, even after he starts mentoring Marinette, he doesn't do a good job of it. He leaves Marinette floundering a lot. She has to come up with an excuse to Cat Noir for why he isn't allowed to know anything, she has to prove herself at every turn to Fu, while Fu never praises her or seems to appreciate her efforts. The only time he told Marinette he believes in her to her face is right before he wipes his memories and dumps all of his duties on Marinette for her to take care of.

Fu's approach to being the Guardian was a weird combination of not putting enough effort and letting it consume him. Fu didn't try to do anything to change the status quo of the lost Miraculous and fallen Order for a century. He spent that entire time hiding and running away. And yet, despite him showing these signs of not wanting to have anything to do with the Miraculous, he wears Wayzz as a constant companion around his wrist. This could just be the loneliness of his advanced age setting in, because in 'Backwarder' we saw that he was unwilling to let the Miraculous out of their box for any reason before present day, even a war that, at the time, was believed to be the war that would end all wars simply because of how devastating it was.

An unrelated side note: actually, in both Marvel and DC universes, the first superheroes in history started their careers during the World Wars and the present day heroes are following their legacy. Miraculous, though, showed us, for a fact, that there weren't superheroes back then, and why.

Fu has spent his entire life running away from his mistake, and hiding his mistake. Even his heroic sacrifice at the end of season three was him running away. He'd left a locker with "in case of my death or disappearance" instructions for Marinette. He'd been planning to fly the coop. This comes back to the theme of self-actualization I like to discuss on this blog. Fu had no one to answer to, but also no one to turn to for guidance. This left him forever in the state of a lost child, not knowing what to do even after he gained age and wisdom, and too scared to try to affect things around him. Fu had all the power to make all the decisions regarding the Miraculous, and that frightened him so much that he refused to make any for as long as he could.

Those are the general characterization reasons for why I think Fu left Cat Noir without any attention. Things more to do with Cat Noir personally are pure speculation, because Fu and Adrien don't have a relationship in the show to dissect, but I'll make some educated guesses. One, while Marinette is extremely respectful of authority figures (since she'd mostly had good experiences with them before Fu), Adrien is very suspicious of authority figures and could have easily picked up on the fact that Fu has no idea what he's talking about. Two, while both of the kids can be willful, Marinette keeps it back more because she has more faith in people. Adrien, on the other hand, is constantly testing what he can get away with, so Fu might have decided he'd be a handful, he certainly can't get Adrien to fall in line in 'Party Crasher'. Three, Adrien's partner is Plagg and Fu just doesn't want to deal with Plagg any more than he has to. Four, and the most cynical approach, is that, from Fu's perspective, Adrien didn't seem to have anything to offer Fu in return for teaching, while Marinette can solve Fu's problems and fix Fu's mistakes (as shown in 'Syren' and 'Feast' respectively).

[feralaot]

AOT characters + their careers

i- okay so i want to contribute my headcanons. here’s what i think they would do as jobs in a modern setting, enjoy

no warnings

modern au obvs

eren:

twitch streamer, known for his rage videos. enough said

mikasa: 

has her own little embroidery & sewing business, sells things like scarves and other knitted things on etsy. likewise eren has about 10 scarves from her that he never asked for 

armin:

starbucks host. gets so many tips because he’s a sweetie. throws parties for his coworkers and remembers all of their birthdays

jean:

part of a rock duo with marco. is also surprisingly tech-savvy and does maintenance on all his friends’ phones and computers for a discount

connie:

soundcloud rapper. please sghksjhfkjdsh

sasha:

has her own little restaurant with niccolo! levi helped decorate it so he gets discounts :)

historia:

barista at the same starbucks armin works at, beauty guru on the side. is really good at makeup

ymir:

tattoo artist + body piercer. most of the gang got their piercings from her and refuse to go to anyone else

hange:

science and biology teacher at the same school erwin works at. literally wants to dissect something every week and sometimes erwin can hear something exploding from down the hall

erwin:

history teacher that works with hange. he loves teaching but the kids drive him bonkers sometimes and is the one teacher that always has coffee with him no matter the time of day

levi:

interior designer! he helped plan sasha’s restaurant and at the beginning of every school year he helps erwin decorate his classroom. the kids always love it

reiner:

carpenter! really good with his hands and is surprisingly artistic as well. carves little sculptures for his husband bertholdt and friends

bertholdt:

journalist. writes about politics and sports, mostly. doesn’t know anything about sports but oh well it’s his job and he enjoys it

annie:

barista with armin and historia. is also really good at singing and guitar so she makes acoustic song covers in her spare time

porco:

tattoo artist + piercer at the same place ymir works at. they have a rivalry but are good pals nonetheless. studies political science in his spare time

pieck:

has a pretty popular asmr channel and has been sponsored a lot. it started as a joke (e.g. “beating you to sleep asmr”) but she really enjoys making actual content now. sometimes she has to cut bits of her videos because porco can be heard in the background

zeke:

also a history teacher that works at the same school as hange and erwin. he has an ongoing feud with erwin to determine who is the best history teacher. this has been going on for years

[0ooruioo0]

↣Hyouga

Fandom: Dr. Stone

Pairing: Hyouga/Reader

Content/s: I think- I changed some parts in the request... IM SO SORRY I GOT SO INTO IT I FORGOT THE LAST PART ;;;;

Request:  Hi! Can I have a scenario for Hyoga please? Where his crush is the kingdom of science's medic (who was depetrified by senku) and after he was defeated and put into the dog house, s/o uses him as her human anatomy model to teach her students (members of ichigami village). She doesn't dissect him, but she makes him get naked in front of her and her students to teach them anatomy and ask him to flex his muscles or to be in some positions to show them the blood vessels and muscles contrations. Thank

After the stone wars against the Tsukasa empire. Everyone was brought together from the bloodless war, teaming up together to bring back the modern days with their next operation is to sail the sea, and find the source of where it all started.

Everyone was busy preparing for the next operation. While people who didn't need to help, like the elders and children. Were off to doing other things for everyone.

Maybe like helping with the small things you know?

You, yourself was also part of the 'not having a job to do', so you decided to start teaching the kids a few things. Even though you were never fond of school, like math, you loved children. Though there are exceptions for the one you can't entirely stand at all.

At the moment you all were in a hut. You with a chalk and board that Senku made. You who never thought that you would be doing something you entirely hate to do, well, at least tried to explain things to the kids. Thank god it was something like anatomy at the moment, because if it was history or something then you were probably a goner.

Hyouga stood beside as well. Acting as a model for the day (or course, after asking Senku if it was ok). He stood there, eyes closed like always. Though you didn't notice the look he had when you were teaching. Gen noticed whenever he passes by, but would only leave with a snicker to which Hyouga would twitch in annoyance.

"Thank you so much for being the model today"

Hyouga hums, his hands tied up by his body. Not bothering to try and get off as you walked him back to the cell. He only continued to walk, your hands holding the rope he was tied onto.

"I hope you won't mind if I do it next time"

He hums yet again. Not bothering to say a word. He didn't know what to say at the moment. To be honest, he felt like he was pressured for some reason.

"I'll offer some good ol' cakes I used to make back then. You liked them right?"

He hums, still not bothering. At this point you didn't know what to talk about. After everything that happened you felt like he didn't want to be near you anymore. He couldn't avoid you with the amount of security he had, but it felt like he didn't want to converse with you anymore.

"Why are you acting so normal"

Your footsteps halt, looking at Hyouga. Waiting for him to continue, eyes not looking right at you but straight ahead instead.

"After what I did," he says "why are you still conversing like we're friends?"

Your hands tightened the grip you had on the rope. "You are my friend!" Words hit Hyouga like an arrow a bit.

"I don't care what you did, I know what you did was wrong. But I don't want you to be alone" you said, your voice filled with sadness and worries. It made Hyouga's chest turn and ache at the tone you had.

"After all, you were just in the dark for a moment. Your still the Hyouga I know, and I'm hoping that someday. That you'll find what's right again and," tears spilled out of your eyes, trying your best to continue. "It doesn't have to be me to do it, but I want to see you back to yourself again. I want to help, so please don't push me away..."

His eyes opens, gazing at you with sadness. He wanted to apologize, but he still couldn't feel anything that he did was wrong. But he wanted to try, for her, and for his sake.

He wanted to pat her head like before, but due to the rope tied he couldn't.

"I'm sorry," he says quite softly. Enough for her to hear at least.

"I didn't mean to"

s/o sniffed smiling softly. "It's okay," she says dragging him back to the cell.

"You'll still be okay with the model right?"

"As long as I don't have to be butt naked in front of children again"

"Aw! But no ones going to care for that these days you know!"

"s/o, a kid literally said that she was too pure to watch me"

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡��*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Inbox Open, but posting it will be slightly late for a while.

 Fandoms I write

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press: Elizabeth Olsen and Jurnee Smollett Compare Notes on Genre-Blending Acting and Advocating for Performers on Set

VARIETY: Neither Elizabeth Olsen nor Jurnee Smollett are strangers to having to really stretch their imaginations to dive into complex characters and even more complicated worlds.

Both have superhero films on their résumés: Smollett portrayed Black Canary in DC’s “Birds of Prey,” while Olsen stepped into Wanda Maximoff aka the Scarlet Witch’s shoes for Marvel’s “Avengers” franchise and then some — including Disney Plus’ first Marvel series, “WandaVision.” They are both now Emmy-nominated for projects that tasked them with jumping through time, blending genres and telling epic love stories (Olsen with “WandaVision,” Smollett with HBO’s “Lovecraft Country”). And, even though they are up in different categories (Olsen in lead limited series/TV movie actress; Smollett in lead drama actress), both of these shows are one-season wonders, leaving the performers and their audiences wanting more.

Olsen and Smollett dissected all that of when Variety brought them together post-nominations to talk about their celebrated roles and surreal playgrounds.

You both had a lot of magical or otherwise surreal elements to interact with on your shows. What did you actually have in front of you to react to on set?

Jurnee Smollett: We were very fortunate on “Lovecraft Country” because the whole VFX team worked so hard to create an atmosphere that was also practical in our space. I remember on Episode 3, the exorcism scene, we shot it over a course of three days and, while there was not a man in real life with a baby head on him, you’ve got the wind machines and the pictures are blowing and all the special effects makeup is being touched up. Atticus [Jonathan Majors] has pretty much turned into a rabid dog and I’m doing this spell with my ancestors and whether they were shooting behind us or shooting the elements, we were at our max capacity regardless because that’s just how we approach the craft. It was such a big sequence to shoot that that’s when the actor in you has to advocate for your instrument. I did go to the director and say, “Can you jump in and cross shoot Jonathan and I?” As an actor it is our job to shoot however many takes, however many angles you need, but then it is also our job to advocate for yourselves. And I love playing in this space because you get to use your imagination you get to go to crazy places. Because even while the practical elements are there; you get to go to crazy places. But I was grateful for the practical elements because it’s just so much easier.

Elizabeth Olsen: Did they have pre-viz so you knew what some of the supernatural elements looked like?

Smollett: With the Shoggoths they not only had a pre-viz for us, but for some of the scenes they had massive sculptures, like a dude standing there in a green suit with a Shoggoth head. The pilot we didn’t have this puppet, but by Episode 8, maybe we got more of a budget or something, but eventually we did get a puppet — which was really cool because you could see, “This is the moment his mouth is opening.” But also, Misha [Green], our showrunner, she just wants more blood, more dirt. She’d try to get them to blow spittle at us.

Olsen: That’s so gross!

Smollett: This concoction of Shoggoth spit, throwing it in front of this wind machine. I find the more practical stuff we have to work with, it just helps so much. And then there were the moments where it’s like, “No it’s just a green tennis ball and an X, and go.” How about you?

Olsen: For all those little things in the air and stuff in the ’50s, it was really important to our director [Matt Shakman] that we did everything ala “Bewitched.” It was all camera tricks, it was all wires. Our head of special effects had a lineage of a father who [did] special effects before him, and so puppetry and wire work and stuff like that were things that were already in his vocabulary, but we would have our special effect guys who are used to blowing things up and putting things on fire just balancing and making sure things aren’t swinging but they have to move. Even in the ’70s when she’s pregnant and everything’s in chaos, we really had a picture on the wall going in circles; they just figured out things with magnets.

When we were filming the finale, it was during COVID, during the fires last summer, and we shot Kathryn [Hahn’s] side at the beginning of the episode when she has my boys with her magic — we had to shoot them out because you always have to shoot the side with the kid out and also Kathryn was doing wires for the first time and of course it was with a corset and it was really hot and really bad air quality and so she had to be sent home by the medic at the end of the day. And so, on my side we were running out of days, and I think we had 35 minutes to shoot my side and my reactions to all of that, and there’s quite a bit of back and forth and throwing myself to the ground and hitting a different mark that will then stitch with the stunt double being pulled. I did a weird one-woman show sans kids, sans Kathryn. Our stand-ins were such a huge part of our show and I was so grateful to have them they’re reading lines with me, and our director, Matt Shakman, was like, “If you feel like you can’t do this, we’ll just do this tomorrow.” That gave an adrenaline rush to me and it just became, “I’m just going to do it.” There’s a lot of fear when you’re like, “Oh I don’t have the elements and I am on my own, literally.” But I’ve had to do this before and I’m just scared to do it because I feel stupid. But I already look kind of stupid — I’m shooting things out of my hands — so why don’t I just lean into it as full as possible and just do it and find it in some core, guttural space of desperation? That day was bizarre, but I was actually very happy that I didn’t put it off. I feel like sometimes as actors when there are things that make us nervous it’s like, “Oh we don’t have enough time to explore so let’s do it the next day if we can,” and then you’re in your head all night about it. And so, it’s nice to just do it, even if it feels silly.

Smollett: I’d imagine surrendering and using the fear and all that that you were feeling probably served you so well in it.

Olsen: And don’t you feel that, though? When you feel unsupported you just want to break down in tears and you’re not supposed to break down in tears or you’re not supposed to have those it’s those feelings in the moment, but there are other times where it is really useful and there’s something freeing about channeling it in some way.

Smollett: Yeah and it’s that word you just used: freeing. Being able to surrender — leap and the net will appear. And you’re right, if you would have gone home, you probably would have come back the next day and you would have overthought it. There’s something about using the adrenaline in that moment that I don’t think you can really teach an actor to do; it’s just experience. Because we go and we prep and we do all these things, and then you get to the set and there’s one distraction, two distractions, and those are the elements that just through experience you’ve learned to use.

But I have to say, when I was little, I used to go to sleep every night watching Nick at Nite and “Bewitched” was one of my favorite shows. I did not expect you guys, at all, to go to land of “Bewitched.”

Olsen: I didn’t either. I’m so grateful to it. I felt like I like forgot my body as an actor. You’re a very physical actor, so I feel like you probably don’t have that experience because you just seem so connected and free whether it’s on stage or doing action. And I really felt disconnected from my body until “WandaVision.” I was like, “Right, I have posture; I can walk; I have legs — all of these things are going to be telling the story and it’s period and so I get to move differently.” It’s been a while since I needed to create quite a different character, and it felt so good to wake up my body to the full character work.

Just watching you in the first episode on stage, I was like, “God damn, I want to feel that free on stage with a song and with an audience.” I’m a self-conscious actor when it comes to extras and things like that. There’s something about it where the crew’s the family, and with extras, I feel so vulnerable. And you seemed so at ease and in control and confident. It made you understand her fierceness and how fearless she was.

Smollett: Thank you so much! It’s so interesting that you point that out because, for me, singing in front of people terrifies me. It truly is one of the things that terrifies me the most. The thing about Misha’s writing is, she finds a way to teach you so much about a character in such a small amount of time. And in that first sequence we learn so much about Leti, from that fearlessness you talk about, the ease that she has in herself and in her person, but then you learn so much about her hypocrisy and the contrasting ideas that are at play inside. She’s a very complex one. In the scene with her sister where she’s talking about having dreams of pioneering into an all-white neighborhood in 1955, but she can’t afford to may for socks. [Laughs.] She didn’t come to her mother’s funeral, and yet she’s here yearning for some sort of family connection. And so, I just remember reading that and feeling so drawn to her and feeling like it’s a side of myself that I needed to unearth — there’s a Leti in me that I desired to actually be, but sometimes am not. And it’s interesting because through Leti, she really forced me to do so many things that I hadn’t done before and really become more fearless, become more unbound. It was just such a very cathartic experience for me.

Olsen: I felt that way with getting to do this sitcom comedy part. I felt like I was touching my childhood version of myself who was a ham doing children’s musical theater, who just who just like played for the laughs or whatever — that part that I don’t access at all, really, when filming. And Kathryn Hahn was such a force and Paul Bettany raised to the challenge, as well, of these comedic performances that were really physically funny. I started to get more comfortable — in the ’60s, ’70s, really got comfortable — and it was so much fun to touch that child that maybe was told too many times, “Oh, you’re such a ham” or you just felt like your big personality as a kid was not OK or wasn’t as appropriate. And so, getting to play with that was really freeing and very fun. As you were saying, there’s a release I needed to have, and through the comedy I was able to have it.

How did this sense of empowerment affect how you carried your own characters’ power? Was there something your character that inspired you to advocate for yourself or did advocating behind-the-scenes inform in-world behavior?

Olsen: I felt very lucky coming into this, because this is a world I know. And so, where my voice of advocacy came in was for actors who are coming into the world — like Teyonah [Parris], wanting to make sure that she had everything that she needed to understand where her character was going because this was a character that’s going to continue [and] if she had everything she needed for stunts. And then similarly with Kathryn, she didn’t realize there was someone who she could use to teach her hand gestures for her magic. And so, she was feeling nervous and lost, like, “How do I do this thing?” And I was like, “Oh, how do you not have that information!?” And then having a conversation with whom you need to on the crew up top and figure out how to keep everyone else feeling like they had everything they needed. And luckily, because this was a show with characters that Paul and I had before, the pieces came together and it was a situation where your voice is welcomed and heard.

From “Sorry For Your Loss,” the TV show I did with Facebook, I now have a producer voice that I can’t shut up. I now just need to talk to ADs a lot, and I need to talk to line producers a lot. I realize that I like having — especially if I’m No. 1 on the call sheet; if I’m a primary part — all of the information so I can understand why decisions that seem weird are happening, or else I’m going to get in my head about, “Why are we doing this this way? I just let people know that off the bat now because it makes me less of a control freak, having information. And it is a team effort and I think the actor’s value has changed in that in that respect. There’s a lot more opportunity for women to be vocal now, and so I’m just really seizing that opportunity.

Smollett: It was a very personal growing experience for me. It was time of transition [and] I’m still going through that transition in my life. In order to truly surrender and do the text justice, there was so much I had to bring to the altar every day to sacrifice. I remember talking to Jonathan about that, and he would refer to it as allowing your heart to break and hoping that the Holy Spirit would put it back together. She was essentially a woman trying to navigate her womanhood but she was never actually allowed to have a childhood. She was habitually abandoned by her mother and didn’t know her father and there’s something in that parental-daughter split that I found myself really relating to. Oddly enough like Leti, I was estranged from my father for years. He eventually passed away, really before there was that healing and so, oh man, it brought up so much shit with Leti. How does she see the world? She sees the world through the eyes of an abandoned child. With Leti, that made her overcompensate; with Jurnee, it made me shrink a lot. When you talk about that artist child, those of us who have been in this business for so long, you take on all the sensors. And I found myself just trying to love her a little more. One of the things I admired so much about Leti is this desire to love herself — this real desire to own herself unapologetically in a world that told her she was too Black and female, to exist in her entirety. It’s still a transition that I’m in, but I definitely feel so grateful to have been able to walk through some of that and navigate through some of that with Leti. But that’s, I think, the blessing and the curse of being an artist. You’ve got to be willing to bring your whole mind, body and spirit to it; nothing’s off limits.

Jurnee, the last time you spoke with Variety we were all assuming you’d get to return to this character, but now that HBO has said it’s not being renewed, do you have unfinished business with her?

Smollett: It’s no secret I’m heartbroken. I loved Leti and of course would have loved to continue playing her. But I am so incredibly proud of the work that we all created together — it feels so special and unique — and I am finding peace in that. We’re artists and there’s an endless well that dwells inside us— and there’s so much that’s out of our control. And I think I’ve done this long enough and I’ve experienced enough heartbreaks to know you don’t get attached to the results too much; you just try to stay in a moment. And I feel just so proud and blessed to have been chosen to go on this ride with these collaborators, so I am more so in the place of gratitude than loss.

On the other end of the spectrum, “WandaVision” was a limited series but Wanda Maximoff is a character you have been coming back to for years, Elizabeth. How do you approach that longevity — the changes in her, the changes in you and the interest in revisiting her at all?

Olsen: I’m 32 and I was 25 — so seven years ago — when I did the first one. There’s so much change that I’ve had, even as an actor and how I approach work and, I think, honor work so much more in the last five years, four years of my life. [Jurnee’s film] “Birds of Prey” feels like such a female-empowered thing, so I feel there’s a really incredible energy to beginning it, but then with me you hear people make comments about Marvel movies and it affects your own process. “WandaVision” really shook that up for me and made me reinvest.

Smollett: I so want to know your process with that because the comic book space was new for me. I’d been a fan; I’d seen all your movies and the other movies. How did you navigate all of those voices? Because they can be very loud.

Olsen: Luckily and also frustratingly my character was always this emotional anchor to a piece of the story. It was like the heart, if there’s a heart. Paul and I were the only romance that was really fleshed out in those movies. And so I just treated it like I would anything. And then, we have a really fun time filming “Avengers” And so it’s really goofy and the Russos are great. And so we, it feels light-hearted, and it feels like we have the last laugh at the end of the day. But when it comes to the reinvesting, that’s the whole mind game, right? Because you just hope that it continues to have this quality control, but the more the more things get made, you’re worried about that. Especially because I did a show on Facebook that was scripted, and I didn’t love the way they handled it. And it was hard. And so second season, we went back and we literally, as a team of producers, had meetings with people who ran Facebook Watch about where we thought they could improve. We had a whole presentation for them. And then eventually, they were like, “We’re not doing scripted anymore.” And so I didn’t have the greatest experience being a part of the launch of another streaming service. And so, the Disney Plus part made me nervous and then bringing these characters that are so big to television made me nervous. But Kevin Fiege explained to us that that they were not going to cut corners, and they’re going to try and create the same attention to detail, and they did. And I think it was really important for them to have that care for these first three shows that they were putting out because it was defining a new thing for them. And so, we were taken care of.

I think more for me with this with the reinvestment moving forward, I never had a six-movie or nine-movie thing; it was always two or three at a time — those were my contracts. And so, it’s always a really conscious decision. I wrapped “WandaVision” on a Wednesday and flew to London on a Friday to continue playing this part [in “Doctor Strange 2”]. I could have used getting out of the mindset, though, because they were totally different utilizations of the character and people would have had more time to understand “WandaVision” had we not just wrapped. And so there’s just a lot of, “We covered this in ‘WandaVision…’” It’s bigger than me, there’s lots of threads that are continuing on after me that I’m not aware of, and so it’s always about, “What can I get from this journey with this character that maybe I haven’t tapped into yet with her?” That’s where I keep approaching things from, so that I feel like I have some sort of strap-hang — that I can know that there’s going to be growth of some kind, even though it all maybe looks the same to other people. There is that conscious decision to learn a new element of this woman, or even of myself as an actor — something that I want to explore that I can bring to it.

Your passion for acting is apparent and you both produce as well. What about directing?

Smollett: I would love to one day. I find myself currently being incredibly excited about producing and ushering new voices and excited voices. I don’t know that I would want to direct myself — that’s a whole other skill. I remember watching Denzel Washington, who directed me in “Great Debaters” but he was also in it, and at that point he had such a command of his instrument that he was able to do that. But it’s a lot. And I remember him telling me, before directing himself, he went and made himself watch all his films just so that he could stomach this idea of watching himself in the editing room. And so, I love the idea of storytelling; I’m obsessed with just telling stories, but I don’t know that I would self-direct.

Olsen: I find myself still loving producing so much because I love asking questions and poking holes and thinking about reorganizing of storylines, things that I feel maybe need more structure. I loved writing essays in school so much; it was like something that I found creative because it was about putting so many different sources into a braid that could maybe create this larger conversation or thought at the end. And so, that’s how I look at scripts. That’s really satisfying enough for me, to play that role. I think one day I’ll think about it more honestly, what it what it would mean to be a director. I fear that if I were to do it anytime soon, I wouldn’t have the tools that I would want. I do ask lots of lens-y questions because I’ve really only been working for 11 years and only recently have I tried to really understand the art of what lenses to choose and why and what it makes an audience feel based on what you’re choosing. I want to have a better, more holistic understanding of [that] before attempting [directing] because I do think it’s such an art and just because I understand the structuring of a story or how a set works, I want to be able to provide the the image in my head. I don’t know if I have that skill yet, but I am curious about feeding it and nurturing that.

Press: Elizabeth Olsen and Jurnee Smollett Compare Notes on Genre-Blending Acting and Advocating for Performers on Set was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[drjackandmissjo]

I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you

(but I’ll do what I must for there’s no me without you)

*** Set throughout the course of their 7th and final year at Hogwarts, this story follows Slytherin's finest and one of the only sane members of the House, Blaise Zabini, as he navigates war-torn friendships, school under a dictatorial regime, Death Eaters and, most importantly, his secret relationship with none other than the new leader of the DA, known blood-traitor, Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom.

A sequel to my previous story: Firewhisky on ice, sunset and vine, you’ve ruined my life by not being mine

Chapter 1 --- next chapter

Harry Potter fic masterlist

29th of July 1997

“I have to admit: I enjoyed the film way more than I expected to,” he said once they had left the muggle theatre. The air had become chilly during the time they had spent inside, but neither of them was bothered by that: they were used to colder climates, after all, spending most of the year in Scotland. And for all its spells and constant fires, one thing always must be said about Hogwarts: certain rooms and corners had never seen the light of the sun and they surely behaved as such, even during warm days.

Like the Potions classrooms, while Snape was their Professor. Those dungeon rooms looked and smelled and felt every bit of humidity that came from being so close to the lake and that, even with the countless explosions that Theo and the Fire Kid from Gryffindor caused with each lesson, could never get anything warmed up. A Hungarian Horntail could breathe fire in there for 24 hours straight and it would still be humid and wet and cold.

It was a good thing Professor Slughorn had decided to move the classrooms up on the fourth floor, in rooms full of windows and light. Blaise could have easily gone without having to add to his ever-growing list of worries his skin getting dehydrated with the stained and stale air that circulated down there.

He watched from the corner of his eye Neville nod along to his statement in agreement, before casually running a hand through his hair and messing them up even further. No matter how hard he tried to keep them neat and proper, like his grandmother wanted them to be, the strands appeared to have a life on their own, especially when certain Slytherin hands had free reign in between them whenever they were alone.

Besides, it really wasn’t Blaise’s fault: Neville had decided he wanted to grow them out, instead of cutting them just as his grandmother suggested on the daily, and, much to Blaise’s happiness, now his bangs framed his face divinely, making for a perfect place to leave his hands whenever they were else occupied.

He also enjoyed the way Neville would scoff in pretended annoyance whenever he disarrayed them and then would shake his head in disbelief at his antics, aiding Blaise’s purpose even further.

And, really, who could blame him? If Blaise wasn’t as in love with the dorky plant-head Gryffindor as he already was, he’d fall even harder at the sight of him with his funky tousled hair and puffy lips as he took a bite out of Blaise’s food without asking first.

He had been so glad that day, having bought a muggle camera that worked similarly to a magical one but that was way easier to manage. He had taken dozens of stills of them, never seeming to get enough of Neville’s smiling face and of his own relaxed and happy one. For Salazar’s soul, he had even sent one of the two of them smiling to his mother, after she kept on asking to at least see the young man that had enchanted her son.

She had replied to his letter the following day, with a simple: “Rule number fifty-one: don’t let him go.”

Blaise had never once wanted to disappoint his mother and definitely wouldn’t start now.

“I don’t really like the way it ended, though. The part where J removed K’s memories was a nice touch, but I feel like we didn’t have enough time with neither,” Neville commented, shoving his hands inside his jeans’ pockets as they kept on walking further and further away from the theatre, undoubtedly to stop himself from doing something idiotic like holding Blaise’s hand when there were still people around.

Given the current political and non-political air that permeated both the Wizarding World and Britain, the two young men had decided that it would be best to limit their encounters only to muggle areas in London, although they would still have to maintain a rather low and inconspicuous profile. It had become incredibly easy to be together without raising suspicions, especially with almost an entire school year of experience sneaking around the castle, but they still preferred to be cautious, to hide from both dark wizards and close-minded muggles.

Neville still lived with his grandmother, but she had become less strict during the course of his first week back at home from school and didn’t really bother him with the amount of time he stayed out, as long as he spent the nights at home. Besides, in her own words, they all had ‘bigger problems than teenagers breaking curfew a little bit to meet with their friends.’ Blaise couldn’t believe that he could ever agree with Augusta Longbottom, but he had seen stranger things happen.

Still, when Neville told him, he had been so shocked he had choked on his drink, causing the Gryffindor to laugh at the spectacle he had created with his Cola.

Blaise himself had been invited to spend his vacation at either Malfoy Manor and the Nott’s, both families offering their hospitality and implicit protection, but he had declined immediately under the ruse of a simple: ‘I live with you the whole year, I need my space and I need to breathe proper air that isn’t tainted with your disgusting deodorant.’ While the sentiment itself was true, he did not want to risk being found out with Neville, a known ‘blood traitor’. Not to mention the part of him being a guy. And a Gryffindor.

Blaise wasn’t really certain about which part would get him into more trouble and wasn’t willing to find out anytime soon.

Therefore, he had chosen to stay at his father’s old bachelor apartment in London, while his mother moved back to France, not wanting to be anywhere near the War that was brewing.

He had asked Neville to stay with him as soon as he was done cleaning the place, making it welcoming and a cosy retreat for them, but his adorable boyfriend couldn’t leave his despotic grandmother alone the entire time, especially not now that the waters were rough.

Always the selfless Gryffindor.

They had retorted then in meeting for random dates almost daily, which had been heavenly. Neville would show up at his apartment with Floo Powder, since he hadn’t taken his Apparition Examination yet, and then they’d just walk around muggle London, as if they had no care in the world. They still kept their guards up, checking every corner for danger that could be avoided, but they tried to ignore the Damocles Sword that hung above their necks.

Which had led them to the muggle theatre on more than one occasion. It had been a perfect idea: in the darkened room nobody questioned why they were holding hands or sharing the popcorn; and they wouldn’t risk anyone from the Wizarding World discovering them, those who would cause them troubles too high on their brooms to even look down at something as mundane as a muggle theatre.

They had also gone to muggle museums and parks and bookstores and restaurants, but Blaise loved the privacy the theatres offered, he loved the way Neville would get engrossed in the stories, he loved the way their hands would link together as suspense built on the screen, he loved to discuss the film afterwards and to dissect every aspect that he found interesting.

And he loved Neville, so it was all an added bonus.

There was a small theatre nearby his place that was quiet and seldom fraught and that allowed them to spend their evenings together, with the walk towards it full of the most random topic the pair could come up with and the walk back usually occupied with their thoughts and opinions about the film they had just watched. Neither of them had been too well versed in muggle culture to begin with, but it was very easy to pick up, especially with the way the family-owned theatre would sometimes project well-known and older productions, instead of only showing the recent ones.

It made the muggle spectacle even more fascinating, in Blaise’s eyes.

“It was kind of poetic, like a rite of passage and everything, but I understand what you mean,” Blaise said as they kept on walking, itching to grab Neville’s hand but holding himself back for the time being: they were still under the scrutiny of the public eye, after all. He’d have to wait until they turned two corners and were finally alone in the streets to finally place his hands on his boyfriend’s. With moderation, of course. “I feel like the story isn’t finished, especially with the way they had the doctor become an Agent. I understand that she had had her memory wiped more times than Lockhart, but she seemed fine! I don’t know, that ending left me pretty unsatisfied as well.”

His boyfriend huffed out a laugh at that and began to silently shake his head: “Lockhart got obliviated only once, by his own spell bouncing back from Ron’s broken wand. Compared to him, that doctor got her brain scrambled on the daily. But you’re right, it would have been so much better if she kept her job and was on the loop with the alien stuff.”

“Speaking of Lockhart, I wonder how’s he doing…” Blaise inquired, scratching his neck. It had been over three years since anyone had heard of the famous wizard and pretty much everyone had seemed to have forgotten about him. It was such a mystery for some, his sudden disappearance after his year teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Yet again, pretty much all the students at Hogwarts knew of the curse on that position, which made his absence plausible, but to have such a well renowned and celebrated man vanish into thin air after publishing a controversial book where he told the world he had no memory of who he had ever been, it was more than suspicious.

“At St. Mungo’s, giving out autographs Godric knows what for,” Neville answered his implicit question with nonchalance, “I see him sometimes when I go visit Mum and Dad.”

During the time they had been together, Neville had slowly begun to tell Blaise about what had happened to his family: how they were members of the original Order of the Phoenix, fighting the Dark Lord during the First War; how Dumbledore had suggested they hid as well as the Potters, because of some prophecy that would connect their children with the Dark Lord himself; how, after he was defeated and the Potters were killed, his parents were tracked down by four remaining Death Eaters and tortured to insanity; how they now stayed at St. Mungo’s, without a single memory of their son, completely out of their minds.

Blaise had always been cold and calculative and preferred to keep a rational outlook to the world, but when he saw, for the first time since that new information, Bellatrix Lestrange, at Malfoy Manor, free and enjoying life, his blood had begun to boil. He had never wanted to murder someone as much as he did in that moment, forcing himself to maintain a smile on his face and to pretend like he wasn’t ready to slaughter someone. When he came back home that night after dinner with Draco and his wretched family, he had spent an entire hour in the shower, scrubbing at his skin as if he could erase the memory of that wretched woman, drinking wine and telling them all about the Cruciatus Curse and how useful it could be to a dark wizard. He had kept that piece of information hidden from Neville, even though he had recounted pretty much the entire evening the following day, while his boyfriend attempted to calm him down from his homicidal plans, without truly knowing what had instigated them.

And he would never know, for Blaise would go to any lengths to avoid his sweet and loving boyfriend any pain. He had already suffered too much, in his short life.

“Really, he’s at St. Mungo’s?” Blaise asked, trying to distract himself from those dark thoughts. When he was with Neville, it almost felt as if Death Eaters didn’t exist, as if the Dark Lord hadn’t risen again, as if they weren’t on the verge of War. “I thought the whole ‘Who Am I?’ book was all a plan to disappear after he botched our second year without being bothered and now you tell me that Weasley sent him to the healers and basically deprived the Wizarding World of that perfectly blinding smile?” Neville playfully shoved him to the side with his shoulder, lingering a little in his touch as they kept on walking, just as restless as he was to be behind closed doors and to have their privacy and safety: “Ron didn’t send him anywhere and he got what he deserved,” he commented sheepishly, regarding Blaise with a blinding smile of his own.

And Blaise definitely preferred his boyfriend’s smile, so true and sincere and warm and just perfect, rather than anything their former fraud of a professor had ever shared.

“He spent the entire year pretending he could do shit and leaving me hanging from the ceiling, multiple times, and then, at the first sign that he needed to be a responsible adult, he tried to Obliviate Harry and Ron and leave Ginny down with the Basilisk. They got so lucky that Lockhart took Ron’s wand that still hadn’t been repaired, otherwise they’d all still be down there.” Then, as if in an afterthought, he added: “And don’t worry, he still got that smile,” his face reddened and visible even in the dimly lit street.

“No need being jealous of a man who isn’t even worth the mud under your shoes, Nev,” he teased, enjoying how his boyfriend would stammer embarrassed at being discovered.

“I’m not jealous!” he defended himself, but the crimson on his cheeks spoke of another story.

Blaise itched to cup his cheeks and to feel the warmth of his skin, but they were still in the middle of a street that was fairly illuminated and with people around. Therefore he did the next best thing: returned on a safer conversational path. “Oh, yeah, I remember about Weasley’s wand,” he said, laughing at the memory, “It bounced back that Slug-vomiting charm that was aimed at Draco. We had a blast that day, when he told us the story.” “Glad some of you enjoyed it, with your sick sense of humour,” Neville said, shuffling his hands inside of his pockets as they moved closer and closer to the corner that would lead them to the apartment, “poor Ron had to carry a bucket wherever he went for two days straight!”

Blaise couldn’t help himself: maybe it was the serious way he defended his friend, or maybe it was the image of a tiny second-year Weasley carrying around the entire castle a bucket to throw up slugs in, undoubtedly aided by an equally tiny Saint Potter with a bewildered tiny Grander following suit and reprimanding them both, but he just burst up laughing, his entire body shaking with it as he put his hands over his stomach, to try and regain his composure.

Yet, all thoughts of etiquette were damned as soon as he heard his boyfriend join in, his own laugh bright and pure and just perfect.

And the icing on their cake laid in the fact that they were alone, without anyone watching them, and they could just be themselves. Blaise didn’t hesitate a moment into grabbing Neville’s hand, enjoying the warmth that the Gryffindor radiated. They kept on laughing and holding hands as they walked back to the one place they could call theirs.

They all but ran the few meters that kept them vulnerable, staggering over the stairs as if they were drunk. It was a somehow good paragon, considering how inebriated they were with each other, and Blaise couldn’t stop thinking about how wonderful his life was in that moment. He could just be himself, around Neville, without having to worry about composure or secrets or manners.

When they closed the door behind their backs and stumbled inside of the apartment, they didn’t even open the electrical lights up, too engrossed in making up for the time they hadn’t been allowed to share, close and up in each other’s personal space.

Blaise would’ve been content in simply existing there, in the tiny apartment that once belonged to his late father, with his hands up on his boyfriend’s hair as he worked and worried over Neville’s exposed neck, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt, watching him lean against a wall for support once his legs had given up completely. The outside world didn’t matter anymore, not to him, not when he had Neville’s hands on him. He’d be glad dying there, in his arms, unbothered by the imminent war, by his friends, by their duties.

But reality had to crash down on them at some point.

Neville removed his mouth from his, panting and with his eyes shut, savouring for one more moment their closeness. Blaise studied his face from the short distance, as he always loved doing, recognising his boyfriend’s reluctance to separate. Yet, his duty would win, as it always did, and he would take a step back, trying to recompose himself and running a hand through his hair.

It was long due a haircut, by now, but Blaise was an egoist and wanted the length to stay for a little longer. Besides, when September came, his grandmother would definitely cut it, even against Neville’s will. And Blaise would take whatever he could, when it came to going against Augusta Longbottom.

He hadn’t even met the woman yet and he had already accepted defeat, if it meant keeping Neville in his life. And, while he did not harbour any love for the witch, he was most certain he could keep an amicable front with her, at least, all for Neville’s sake.

That didn’t mean, though, that he didn’t try to stray her grandson into a different path than the one she wanted, at every corner: “Can’t you stay this once?” he asked in a low and sultry voice, fully conscious of what that tone did to his perfect Gryffindor boyfriend, refusing to take a step back and let a single centimetre separate the two of them.

He watched as Neville slowly opened his eyes in the dim light that was filtered by the window from the empty street below. He watched as his throat bobbed as he swallowed, trying to regain his breathing. He watched, powerless, as Neville slipped them over, switching their positions, effectively trapping him against the wall in his arms.

The Gryffindor bent down a little and placed the most chaste and sweet and anticlimactic kiss on Blaise’s lips, driving the Slytherin mad with want and desire, unable to do anything other than comply.

“You know I can’t, flower,” he murmured directly against Blaise’s lips, his own stretching in a wicked smile. Neville Longbottom knew exactly which buttons to press and when to use them all against him: Blaise couldn’t help the shiver that ran over his back at that simple word, still not used to the way the simple pet name made his toes curl and his heart beat out of his chest, nor could he help the sound of appreciation that came out of his throat, and that transformed immediately into one of disappointment as soon as his boyfriend untangled himself from him.

He tried to make some air reach his brain, when Neville stepped back from him once again, leaving him space to breathe and recollect himself while still being infuriatingly close, neither of them wanting to truly part despite their obligations.

“Yes, I unfortunately do…” he answered, still leaning against the wall. He ran his right thumb over his lips, enjoying the way the Gryffindor’s body stiffened at the sight as his eyes tracked the movement. He sometimes still couldn’t believe his luck, especially when Neville looked at him like that, as if he needed all of his strength just to hold back.

Most of the time, Blaise wished he didn’t, yet the knowledge that he was the one to make the apparently timid, placid Schlongbottom, as his friends still believed he was, lose his mind completely was intoxicating. And he lived for those moments and hours when Neville would let go of his composure fully, causing Blaise to follow suit without a single complaint. Because he couldn’t be the farthest from timid or placid, but only he saw that side of him, only he got to enjoy that part of his sweet and amazing boyfriend.

“What are you going to do tomorrow?” Blaise asked almost out of the blue, conscious already of the reply, but wanting to steal some more time alone with the Gryffindor.

He didn’t particularly care that he was abiding by the stereotype that Slytherins were manipulating and tempting, not when Neville would shoot him a blinding but cocky smile as he fired back: “Already missing me?”

“Always.”

“I told you, I’m going to help Luna find a dress for the wedding and Grandma’s organised that family gathering to celebrate my 17th…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his neck, to try to make his blushing less noticeable. Unfortunately for him, in doing so, he had involuntarily made his shirt rise a little, showing off the skin beneath, and Blaise was not going to let such an opportunity pass: he moved closer and snug his arms around his boyfriend’s midriff, planting his hands in the small of his back. “Remind me again why I can’t crash her party and steal you away?” he asked casually, next to his ear, before he began to worry the earlobe with his teeth.

Neville seemed to be at a loss for words under Blaise’s ministrations, which was entirely his goal, but he eventually did manage to speak again: “Because she doesn’t know about us, since if she did we’ll never hear the end of it ‘cause we were keeping this a secret, and you are a Slytherin and I am a Gryffindor, and because she is not allowing me to invite any friends,” he said, his voice firm and unfaltering, despite the way his hands were holding Blaise close to him, silently begging to keep up with his work.

Not that he was planning to stop anytime soon. Still, some words at the back of his throat itched to be said: “I have a few words I’d like to tell your grandmother and none of them are kind,” Blaise claimed, staring right into Neville’s eyes and wondering how such a stern woman could raise such a loving man. While it was true that she had laid off his back for the time being, she had doubled down on her questions about Neville’s private life: the poor Gryffindor had to retort to lying simply to avoid her finding out about their relationship. It was a good thing that he had quite a vast number of friends and that said friends didn’t interact with his grandmother, because, based on Blaise’s very own experience with pureblood families, everyone knew everything, especially when ‘keeping the lines pure’ was involved and everyone turned out to be related.

For instance, Neville’s white lie for that day’s activity was very simple: “I’m going to play Quidditch with my roommates and we’ll have dinner afterwards.”

When Neville had told him as much, Blaise had exploded into laughter and disbelief. Was it believable for his boyfriend to play Quidditch? Absolutely not, but he shared a dormitory with Weasley, Thomas and Saint Potter, therefore he played by proxy. It would have equally been absurd for his grandmother to and not to believe him, which was what made the lie incredibly clever.

Blaise shook his head as he silently snickered at the fresh memory, still hesitant to remove his hands from his boyfriend’s body: “Anyway, who’s getting married now that we’re almost on the brink of war?” he inquired, truly curious. A wedding in the Wizarding World was a very public event, especially when pureblood families were involved, which they must have been, if Lovegood was invited.

All of his friends still kept on calling her Loony, but he had stopped using that epithet, since he had begun to consider her a friend as well, thanks to their mutual connection to Neville. And she was an excellent friend, both to him and his boyfriend, kind and compassionate and considerate.

He had already begun to wonder about who the couple must have been, considering no one in his circles had mentioned anything, when Neville spoke, making him understand exactly why nobody amongst the purebloods he spent his time around had even known or cared about such a thing: “Bill Weasley, Ron’s eldest brother, and Fleur Delacour.”

“The Triwizard Champion? How did they even meet?” he inquired, now even more curious. He had seen the eldest Weasley only once, at Gringotts, and it was in that moment that he first began to question whether or not he was straight. And, to pair that with Beauxbatons’ champion, well… That must have been a hell of a good looking couple!

“I don’t know,” Neville said, leaning his head against Blaise’s shoulder and looking at him with a soft smile through his eyelashes, “but they’re super cute together, at least that’s what Ginny told me.” “And you haven’t been invited?” His boyfriend shrugged at that, Blaise knew he did not particularly care about mundane events and being into the public eye: “No, from what Ginny told me it’s not going to be that big of a ceremony. Only family, close friends of the couple, and neighbours. Which is why Luna’s going, as well as to spend time with Ginny.”

“That’s a shame you won’t be there,” he commented, running for the umpteenth time that eventing his hands through Neville’s hair, as the other wizard stayed there, merely enjoying his ministration while he tried not to fall asleep. It had happened already once, right before he had to leave, and that incident had prompted his grandmother into a speech about the right of an adolescent Gryffindor to a little bit of rule-breaking. “I bet you would’ve looked dashing in a suit.”

“Jealous, darling? You know you could always look at me in a suit, if you’d just let me borrow one…” “Not a chance, caro. Mine are all tailored to perfection for my body,” he said playfully, moving his head to the side to place a small kiss on Neville’s nose, causing the other wizard to blush and giggle, “Besides, I prefer seeing you without a single stitch.” “Blaise! You can’t just say shit like that!” his boyfriend spluttered, trying to get away from his words as if they had just tickled him. He loved the way Neville would get all cute and embarrassed. His usual tell was the blush that started on his cheeks and spread throughout his body, and that was incredibly adorable. Blaise had tried to see just how farther the colour could spread, but he had been distracted in his path, somehow. “Why not? No one is listening and it’s true!” he had begun to retort, only to be shut up quickly as two lips pressed against his own, soft yet insistent, gentle yet commanding. One thing had to be said about Neville Longbottom and that was how efficient he was at quieting him with a single gesture, whether with a kiss or by simply occupying his mind with the little things he always did, essentially being himself, unfiltered.

It took them less time than usual to resurface for once, mainly because Blaise still wanted to know more about the hot new wizarding couple that could definitely take over the world, if the Dark Lord wouldn’t win.

He desperately prayed he wouldn’t, for countless different reasons.

“When is this marvellous event?” he asked, still refusing to put a single millimetre of space in between them.

“In three days, on the first. Luna’s absolutely on her last chance, looking for the perfect dress that won’t attire Wrackspurts,” he commented, shaking his head. Something inside of Blaise told him that it wasn’t the first nor the second time they went out shopping and, if Lovegood was anything like Pansy, it must have not been an easy task chaperoning. Pansy Parkinson could try on an entire street of boutiques, buy every single item of her size, and still lament she had nothing to wear.

“Why? Wanna meet up? I thought we were going for lunch on the second,” Neville added, pulling him out of the horror of the memory of the first time that witch had discovered French Haute Couture: a tornado would’ve left behind less damage.

“Yeah, I’ve been invited to Draco’s for dinner on the first, with all the others…” he trailed off, remembering exactly what had been discussed the previous night amongst the Death Eaters. It wasn’t unusual for Draco and Theo to invite him over, especially since they both believed he was fully on the Dark Lord’s side but was merely acting precious, never truly giving in. And he couldn’t deny an invitation, otherwise it would have looked suspicious. After all, his friends knew that he was staying all alone in London, away from his family, and that he wasn’t fooling around with anyone, which, in their eyes, meant he had a lot of free time.

Free time that they tried to occupy, not wanting to leave him completely alone. Thankfully, they weren’t overbearing, having him over every couple of days or so, respecting his privacy, but whenever an invitation came, he had to follow through.

Now, he couldn’t exactly tell his friends: “No, I’ll pass on spending time with you, I’m going to go watch muggle entertainment with my Gryffindor boyfriend,” could he?

Luckily for his relationship, though, the invites were rather old fashioned, called days prior, and that left him and Neville plenty of time to organize. The only person in their friend group that liked to show up uninvited or unannounced by an owl was Pansy, but she would’ve stayed in Spain until the mid of August, which meant Blaise could breathe a little without having to worry about her finding out his secret. Draco and Theo were way too busy in their official Death Eater work to even want to hang out with him in the mornings and afternoons anyway.

“What is it, B?” Neville asked, undoubtedly feeling the way his shoulders had tensed from up close. His hold on Blaise became slightly tighter, grounding and real, while still remaining gentle, letting him know that they were alright and, no matter what happened, they’d be okay.

Closing his eyes and leaning against his boyfriend’s shoulder, he began to recount what he had eavesdropped: “When I was at Theo’s last night, his father and his uncle were talking about something that went bad for them the day before, so on the 27th, and how the Dark Lord was more than displeased. All I got were hushed words about a failed kidnapping, I believe, and how the Dark Lord had completely exploded against his followers in anger, even though he had no idea who to even blame and punish. But then his father moved onto a different topic and said that they’d have their victory in a couple of days anyway, that they needed to wait, that they couldn’t lose, that August would be their month of victory. But he didn’t explain what exactly he had meant, without a doubt to keep us ‘children’ in the dark. I couldn’t really understand much, Crabbe had gone off about some bullshit of his and they were speaking in a low voice on the opposite side of the table, but the intent was clear. Something big is about to happen.” “Blaise…”

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, but they don’t fully trust anyone who doesn’t have the Mark. Besides, they consider us children, even Draco doesn’t know much and he let the bloody Death Eaters into Hogwarts! They know he’s loyal, or at least think so, ‘cause he was at some meetings with the Dark Lord himself. Yet they still don’t tell us shit. Not even to Theo, who’s more of a fanatic than a follower. And I am not going to taint my arm with that disgusting thing anytime soon, even if that would help. But it’s so frustrating and…” he continued, still refusing to open his eyes: he knew he should’ve told that story to Neville earlier, but he had got distracted by their date; he knew he should’ve contacted Professor McGonagall, warning her about what was going on and whose side he was on, but he was terrified he’d be intercepted somehow; he knew he was a terrible spy and that his motive was entirely egotistical, fuelled only by his will to keep Neville safe, and he couldn’t do anything about any of that.

War was coming and Blaise Zabini was powerless against it, unable to do anything concrete.

It wasn’t until he felt warm lips on his forehead and felt warm hands on either side of his face, gently holding him together, that he stopped his rambling. He usually wasn’t like this, letting his mind wander and his mouth running to catch up, at least not in front of other people, because it could potentially be dangerous and could bring unwanted questions. “Rule number eighteen: do not blabber, unless you intend to become a thespian and need practice for monologues,” his mother always said and he preferred to maintain a decent amount of control over the words that came out of him, never going into a rampage, unlike Draco did whenever he messed up his hair, yet never appearing bothered by the simple act of speaking, unlike Theo, who favoured monosyllabic replies to everything. His was always a perfect balance, studied to the last detail to make his speeches and his sentences reach the point and the mind of those who lent him their ears.

Rule number nineteen was: “do not fall in love with a thespian unless they’re a muggle actor from Hollywood,” yet Blaise knew he wouldn’t use that rule. Not anymore and hopefully not ever.

Still, of course, as it had become a routine in his life, everything about him became erratic and unpredictable when he was with Neville. He had found himself digress many times and he was always quite shocked when he realised how far he had gone from his initial path, much to his boyfriend’s delight and amusement. “I like seeing you ruffled,” he had admitted once, earning a copy of ‘Advanced Potion Making’ chucked at his head as they both laughed, with Blaise trying to hide his blushing cheeks.

“Blaise, my love, calm down,” Neville whispered softly against his forehead, hugging him closer and managing to reassure him without wearing him down with his own emotions, “I’m sure everything will be fine. The Order probably knows already that something’s about to happen. Besides, McGonagall’s in there as well, she’s not going to let anything happen, bad or not. Everything will be alright and I’ll come here on the second just like we planned to. You gotta trust me.”

He took a deep, steadying breath as he tried to ground himself back again. Neville’s presence helped greatly, as he had already told the other wizard countless times. “I trust you, more than anyone else,” he admitted, staring straight into his brown eyes as if they could hold all of the Universe’s answers, “But promise you won’t jump headfirst if something happens.” “Of course, I’ll stay home with Grandma as much as I can, when I don’t have my powerful Slytherin around to protect me. Besides, I’m pretty sure You Know Who will stay out of her path, she’s almost as scary as McGonagall!” Neville joked, causing Blaise to shake his head: Gryffindor antics were hard to knock off, it seemed. And, even if he was already wildly intimidated by Augusta Longbottom and she might make the Dark Lord reconsider his career path with her umbrella and her hats, theirs was not a topic to take lightly. “Neville, I’m serious.” “I know.”

Blaise scoffed at that and removed himself from their embrace, allowing space in between their bodies to better convey his message: “I know I can’t make you promise me you’ll stay put, ‘cause you won’t. But can you swear to me that you won’t risk your life recklessly?” he asked, unbothered if some of his desperation seeped into his voice. He knew he could let his walls down around his boyfriend, after all. “You mean like a Gryffindor,” came immediately the reply as Neville crossed his arms over his chest, now that he had the space to do so. “Nev…” “Only if you swear on Slytherin himself that as soon as shit starts to go down, you’ll get to safety,” he intercepted him, stopping Blaise before he could go on another tangent about House Values, “I need to know you’ll be careful.” Blaise nodded at that, he could understand the sentiment: of course his boyfriend would want him safe. But times were darkening by the hour and soon neither of them would probably know what safety even meant.

“Let’s make a deal:” he suggested, already knowing that Neville would agree to his plans, even if they were half-assed ideas about sneaking inside of a muggle library just to study and recreate the ambience of Hogwarts’ own, “usually I’m back from Draco’s around midnight. If nothing happens, we’ll just see each other in the morning after, as we planned. But if the world ends, meet me here at midnight. Sneak past your grandmother or stun her, since you won’t have to worry about the Trace by then. But just, come here, please.”

“The world’s not going to end, my love. Not on my watch,” Neville said, holding once again both of his hands in his and placing a soft kiss on his thumbs.

With the Gryffindor, it was all about the soft and subtle touches, the small moments. Blaise had dived into their relationship wanting to keep it hidden to avoid uproar by the entire school, yet he had been surprised when Neville hadn’t complained about their subtlety; he had almost expected the dorky plant-head to be the most PDA-indulging being in their entire school and it had been unexpected, yet not unwelcomed, his quiet way of giving affection, even when they were all alone and safe.

“Thank you, my mighty Gryffindor,” he replied with a flourish, pondering the pros and cons of bowing. On one hand, he’d keep up his theatrics that seemed to amuse Neville to no end, but on the other, he’d have to let go of his boyfriend’s hands, which was something he wasn’t willing to do. Neville, as always, resolved his qualm without a second thought: he playfully shoved Blaise away with a push from his hands, before pulling him back closer and making him crash against his torso. “Besides, it’s not like we’re not going to see each other before then! What did you say we would do again…?” Blaise saw right through his feeble attempt at distraction immediately: “Nope, I’m not going to tell you, it’s a surprise!” he exclaimed, placing a placating kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek. He had already planned the entirety of their date since he found out the plant-head wouldn’t be free on his birthday: they’d start the day by having lunch at a Chinese restaurant Neville had particularly enjoyed and then they’d move to visit the Royal Botanic Gardens, allowing for them to spend the entire afternoon and evening there, since he already knew very well that his boyfriend would get distracted with every single leaf. And Blaise loved when Neville got side-tracked to talk about plants, even if he didn’t care about the ‘green things’ himself, so it would be a win-win. “Please, B, you know I don’t really like surprises!” he lamented, but Blaise was adamant on his position. “Mio caro, you’ll have to suffer then.” “You’re so mean to me.” Blaise kissed the tip of his nose once more, giggling at the way it involuntarily twitched under his lips: “Yeah, but you love me nevertheless.” What followed was a bad series of sloppy kisses and giggles shared between them as they walked in tandem next to the fireplace, miraculously avoiding tripping over furniture. They knew it was time for Neville to leave, but they were both incredibly reluctant to let go.

“Goodnight, then,” Blaise said, attempting without any real intent to put some space in between them, and he was almost immediately followed by Neville’s own: “Goodnight,” spoken directly against his lips as he removed his hands from around the Gryffindor’s torso, giving a little push to create some distance in between them. “I love you,” Neville sing-sang as he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, waiting for Blaise’s reply before disappearing into the Network. “I love you too, but go before your grandmother decides to murder me for keeping her grandson away from home all the time!”

And with that, Neville Longbottom had gone back home, leaving Blaise alone in the quiet apartment, his laugh still ringing clearly in his ears against the deafening silence. The place always seemed to lose its warmth as soon as his boyfriend left and so he shrugged on a jumper he had ‘borrowed’ from the Gryffindor, without his knowledge and without any real intent on giving it back.

He was not as naïve as Neville was sometimes, still believing that everything would be alright in spite of all the signs pointing to Hell, but he knew that they would be together even if the world did fall off its axis, and that thought warmed him more than any fire could.

And with that, plus the jumper, he tried to fall asleep, ignoring the way his heart pounded at the uncertainty of his future.

But, of one thing only he was certain: he’d stay by Neville’s side and he’d stay at his, no matter what.

[hailhydra920]

Royally Matched Pt.3

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Matchmaker!Reader Royal AU

Summary: Bucky has parent issues, oh yeah, he still doesn’t like you.

Warnings: none

Part 3

“Dinner? With Prince James? Alone?!”

           “Yes, that’s what I said. The King encouraged it, actually. You do need to know him to find out who his true love is, don’t you?” Damien asked.

           “I guess you’re right.” You sighed. “Thank you. I’ll be ready by then.”

           Damien nodded and closed the door as he walked out. You turned toward a smirking Nat and you groaned.

           “I can’t do this, Nat! No girl in her right mind would want to marry Mr. ‘I Can And I Will Do Whatever I Please Even If It Offends People’. That man is the definition of insufferable!”

           Nat walked toward you and laughed. “Well, no one in their right mind would name their kid that. Come on, maybe he’s not so bad once you get past his rough exterior. He is easy on the eyes, don’t you think?”

           “Nat, don’t start. We’re here to find a prince his true love, who, mind you, must marry a woman of status.”

           “You didn’t answer my question. Do you think he’s cute or not?”

           You took a deep breath. “Of course, I think he’s cute! But beware of the evil behind smiling eyes.”

           “He’s not evil, and I know you didn’t just make up that quote.”

           “I read it somewhere, but that’s not the point! The point is that this prince thinks way too highly of himself and that there are no consequences for his actions. Enough of my ranting. How many people have you found?”

           Nat clapped her hands together in excitement. “Now, I think you’re going to like this. I’ve selected 100 people. They’re from many different backgrounds, and all have some sort of higher status. Of course, we’ll be able to narrow them down once you get more info about him. Then we can interview the top ten, and voilà! We have his true match.”

           “Wow, you are really on the ball with this aren’t you? Well, let’s get to business.”

~~~~~~~

“Dinner?! With the matchmaker?! Damien, do you wish to kill me before my coronation, because if so, you are doing a grand job.” Bucky growled.

“Now, now, Your Hi—Bucky, we must get you your perfect match for the coronation. Ms. Y/n is only here to help.” Damien sighed.

“Help? Help giving me a bloody headache is what she’s doing.” Bucky groaned. “Thank you, Damien. I’ll be there.”

Once Damien closed the door, Bucky screamed, a very unmanly scream mind you, in frustration. Responsibilities, love, dealing with his father, they were all so overwhelming. Grabbing the picture off his nightstand, he slowly ran his fingers over it.

“Mother, I wish you were here. Father hired a matchmaker for me. Can you believe it? He’s gone absolutely mad without you. He has no idea what I’m feeling. At least you were sensible.”

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Bucky took a deep breath and composed himself.

“Men of the royal family do not show weakness.” Bucky mocked thinking of his father.

Smiling, Bucky walked over to his full-length mirror and struck a grumpy pose.

“My son is such a disappointment. If only he were more like Paul Wilson’s boy, Sam. He is always listening to his father.”

Bucky laughed at the memory. He was pretty proud of himself for his father impersonation.

“What are you doing?” Bucky growled crossing his arms like his father would. “You should be getting ready for the dinner I arranged!”

Sudden knocking caused Bucky to jump, and he composed himself before saying, “Come in.”

King George entered Bucky’s room, and Bucky hoped he hadn’t heard anything.

“What are you doing? You should be getting ready for the dinner I arranged!” The king reprimanded.

Bucky bit back a smile. “Sorry Father. I got distracted. I’ll get ready. Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?”

“Yes. You have a speech tomorrow in town, just wanted to make sure you were ready for it.”

“Of course. It’s all written out and on my dresser.” Bucky said gesturing to his shiny dresser. “That all?”

“I heard a scream, are you quite all right?”

“Just a spider, Father. Uh, you don’t think anyone else heard that, did you?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if all of Calterburry heard you! I thought you were giving Ms. Y/n a fright and I came to tell you to leave the poor girl alone.”

“Poor is right. Did you see the clothes she was wearing? Utterly disgusting. I wonder if that woman has any taste at all. Don’t you agree?” Bucky asked grabbing a suit out of his closet.

“James, Ms. Y/n is only trying to help. Do give her a chance.” The king said walking toward the door.

“It’s Bucky.”

The king turned around. “Huh?”

“After mom died, you’ve resorted to calling me James. Why?”

“Now really isn’t the time.”

“Of course it’s not.” Bucky sighed. “It never is. Now if you would excuse me, I have a dinner to get ready for.”

~~~~~~~

Bucky was on the other end of the table, his blue eyes staring into yours with fierce intimidation. You smiled back at him, causing him to lean back into his chair before shoving a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. Not exactly the well-mannered eating habits you were expecting, but okay.

“Why don’t you speak?” Bucky asked after swallowing.

“Why don’t you speak?” You countered.

“I just did.”

You sighed. “Look, if this is going to work, we may need to be closer than 30 ft away from each other. This table is huge!”

“I quite like it.” Bucky mused. “I don’t have to see your face up close.”

“Wow, thank you. You are quite the charmer, Your Highness.” You retorted sarcastically.

“It all comes naturally, mind you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t doubt it. But seriously, why must we talk in the stuffiest room in the castle? Could we go outside and talk?”

“Commoners.” Bucky scoffed. “They love their fresh air. If it pleases you, then I will gladly remove myself from my extremely comfortable chair and walk into a dissatisfying evening chill.”

“Great.” You announced hopping from your chair.

“Do they teach sarcasm in America? Because I clearly just announced how much I did not want to go outside.”

You shrugged. “It all comes naturally, mind you.”

Bucky let out a short laugh. “I suppose it does.”

~~~~~~~

“So, what do you do for fun?” You asked shoving your cold hands into your pockets.

“Are you serious? This is conversation for a mere toddler.” Bucky said, his breath coming out in cold white puffs.

“Quite. If I am to match you with your true love, I must dissect every inch of you.”

“I must admit I am not very fond of the notion of me being dissected like some bug. Perhaps there is a different way to, ah, perform your studies without dissecting my person.”

You laughed. “You are a piece of work, aren’t you? But to be frank, this whole love configuration is not the easiest thing in the world. I need participation from you.”

“If we’re being honest, then I guess it’s my turn. I don’t believe in true love. I believe in a fondness someone has toward another person, but true love? I laugh at the mere thought of it.”

“I’m going to make a believer out of you, Your Highness. Just you wait.”

Permanent Taglist: @sleep-i-ness​

Royally Matched Taglist: @supraveng @all-art-is-quite-useless @bestofbucky​

[ordinaryschmuck]

Why I (Want To) Love Amphibia

Salutations random people on the internet who probably won't read this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons. If you've been paying attention to my posts, you would have known that I made a top twenty list of the best-animated series of the 2010s. And if you read my Honorable Mentions list, you would have known that I consider Amphibia one of those shows that, while I like it, I wouldn't go so far as to say that it's one of the best. Don't get me wrong. It's good. But there are issues that I have with Amphibia, and I can't recommend it without being hesitant. I still like it fine, but I doubt some people will be as forgiving as me. So I'm going to explain the quality and faults that the show has, while still being considerate to those who do love it. Because unlike some people who would make a two-hour-long video essay about how much they hate something, I can at least acknowledge that while something doesn't entirely work for me, that doesn't mean it won't work for everyone else. Because there is a reason why this show has such a following...I don't think it's earned, but I won't knock people down when they love something I find passable. And I hope that respect goes both ways as I explain why I (want to) love Amphibia.

Also, this review is going to contain spoilers for the entire series. So if you haven't checked it out yet, I recommend you do it to form your own opinion. Season one is on Disney+, and you're on your own for season two. And I suggest you find a legal way to watch it if you can, because I'm not going to leave a link to a pirating website filled with every animated series and movie you can find. And I'm definitely not going to insert that link into a random letter in this review with the thought that if you have to pirate something, then you might as well work for it. Because that would be crazy.

...

Stop being crazy.

....

Anywho, let's start with:

WHAT I LIKE

The Comedy: Let it be known that this show is funny. Like, really funny. I wouldn't go so far as to say that it's funnier than Gravity Falls, which got me chuckling with every episode, but Amphibia definitely hits more than it misses. There are occasions when the jokes aren't really character-oriented and could be said by anybody in the Plantar Family, but if they're still funny, then who am I to complain. Although there is one issue that I have with the comedy. But I'll save that for when I talk about what I don't like. For now, I can assure you that if you're hoping for some laughs, Amphibia has plenty to offer.

Warnings Against Toxic Relationships: But even the best comedies know when to offer some substance. Because I won't lie, when Anne described what is clearly a toxic friendship in the second episode, I was hooked. I love it when kids shows breach topics that can be important for children down the line. And for the most part, I think Amphibia does it well. There are so many instances that the writers' point out the several red flags that a person should avoid when it comes to a friendship and when it's time to either cut that person from your life and stand up for yourself. One of my favorite episodes is "Prison Break," where Sasha explains how she manipulates people and shows zero remorse for it. Then there's the episode "The Sleepover to End All Sleepovers" that shows how a person's influence can affect others and how much it changes perception as Anne and Marcy still believe they need someone like Sasha in their lives...At least I hope that's what the intention is. Because if the writers are trying to say that Anne and Marcy really need someone like Sasha...Well, I'll save that for my dislikes. Because even though it could use a little polishing, warning kids about toxic relationships is what keeps me hooked into seeing what happens next in this series.

It’s Not Afraid to go Dark: On top of breaking borders with morals intended for kids, I just gotta respect a show for playing around with what's considered "too dark." Especially if that show is on the Disney Channel!

The writers are not afraid to imply that death happens in the world of Amphibia, primarily because it is like a swamp ecosystem filled with predators and food chains. And I feel like because the characters are mostly amphibians, the writers can get away with an entire cave filled with the bones of victims as long as they're not humans. But frogs? No one gives a crap about them. There's a reason they're the ones who get dissected in schools.

Plus, a good majority of the monsters that Anne and the Plantars face are pretty horrifying at times. The crew who work on the show do a great job balancing the line of making these creatures look scary, but never go too far that they'll scar kids for life. Except in the Halloween special...How the f**k did they get away with the monsters in the Halloween special? And while they don't ever show what these monsters do, the implications honestly make things much worse, which again, I kind of respect. It's good to have shows like Amphibia that can scare kids a little bit. Getting through something fictitiously dark helps make kids feel braver and prepare them for the real horrors in the world. Especially since most of these creatures are just exaggerated versions of real-life predators...google them.

The Season One Finale: It was "Reunion" that made me realize that Amphibia has the potential to be amazing...it's also the last episode of season one, so let that sink in.

Joking aside, I honestly do love this episode. It's funny, it brings in elements from other episodes, nearly everybody does something useful, and it all ends with a satisfying and equally gut-wrenching climax. A climax, by the way, that is so perfect that I'm going to do a scene breakdown for why it's so good...so, you know, add that to the to-do list (I have so much s**t to make -_-). "Reunion" has so many elements about what makes a season finale so good that I feel like future writers should take notes for their own series that they plan to make. While I wish every episode of Amphibia had this level of quality, the writers know that the last impression is one of the most important. Because I will defend this show if this is the episode people use to trash it.

Marcy: I will also defend this show if someone trashes Marcy. Trust me, the best way to tell that someone is just hating on Amphibia for little to no reason is if they utter the word, "Marcy is a bad character." That is not true. Marcy is a great character, and I'd go so far as to say she's the best character in the series. She's sweet, adorable, and has a story ten times more interesting than Anne's. Anne learns what a sincere relationship is like through the Plantars, where Marcy falls victim to another manipulative relationship through King Andreas. It's her co-dependency that has the chance to get fleshed out more, and I can't wait to see if she has a moment to break out and form her own path.

Also, in the mass expanse of the multiverse, there exists a world where Amphibia is about the adventures that Marcy had in Newtopia as she uses Dungeons and Dragons logic to get by. And I want to see that universe! Because this clumsy nerd is already a blast to watch with the briefest of cameos. Imagine how much fun she would be if she had her own series!

Sprig: I don't know how much love Sprig gets within the fandom, but I got a feeling that it's not enough. He's funny without being annoying (most of the time), there's a whole lot of heart and sincerity to his actions, and above all else, he's the best friend that Anne needed. When Anne explained her very flawed views about friendship in "Best Fronds," it is clear how essential someone like Sprig is as he teaches Anne what friendship really means. It means caring for each other, supporting each other, making equal sacrifices for one another, and just being on the same page as each other. It is genuinely sweet seeing their friendship bloom, and I honestly hope the Amphibia fandom gives Sprig the amount of appreciation he deserves. Sure, he can be annoying sometimes, but for the most part, he's easily up there as one of my favorite characters.

Wally: Same with Wally! Who would have guessed that a character who appears as an dumb source of comic relief has a level of depth and lovability to him? "Wally and Anne" shows that while he is a nonsensical goofball, he doesn't really care what the frogs of Wartwood think of him. What matters is what he thinks of him. And that is just an incredible lesson to teach kids that just makes me love Wally more. 

(It also helps that he's probably the funniest character in the show. I know I said that he's dumb, but when he works, he works.)

Kermit the Frog Cameo: ...It's Kermit the Frog, y'all. I physically can't hate him. Especially since this is the perfect show for him to make a cameo in!

WHAT I DON’T LIKE

Anne’s Character: I don't have a problem with Anne. I think she's a serviceable protagonist, and I love the fact that she's Thai, offering a form of Asian representation other than Chinese, Japanese, or Korean. But here's the problem with Anne: After a season and a half, I still don't know what her character is. If you were to ask me to describe a Disney show protagonist within one sentence, I could do it effortlessly. Watch:

Star Butterfly: An adrenaline junky of a warrior princess who slowly learns to be responsible with each passing season.

Luz Noceda: A generous nerd that obsesses about fantasy and fiction, who still understands when to take a step in reality when the moment calls for it.

Scrooge McDuck: An old Scottish miser who has the heart of adventure and is a duck that almost loves his family as he loves his money.

For Anne, I don't know where to start because her personality is so inconsistent. Sometimes she makes friends with others without even trying, and other times, she gets on others' nerves easily. Sometimes she's a thrillseeker with the heart of adventure, and other times, she's a person who prefers to hang back and avoid doing work. And sometimes she's the only sane character with logical advice, and other times she's the most insane character who needs advice. Now, you could argue that these are all character traits that make Anne multidimensional. But if you ask me, it seems like her personality is dependent on what the writers want her to be for the episode. Someone like Luz going back and forth between two traits only works if there is a dominant personality trait that takes over the other. If Luz spends an entire episode being angry and serious, it proves that there's more to her than just a character that's nerdy and optimistic. But it's clear she is still that lovable nerd by having her say a corny line like, "Talk to the glyphs, Witch!" But because Anne has so many personality traits, it's hard to tell which is the norm and what is out of character. Case in point: Having Anne obsess over hang-gliding in one episode and doing a puzzle in the next is off as neither correlates with each other. Nor do they tell me who Anne is, other than the fact that she's clearly a character lacking a singular identity. And seeing how she's the main character, the one audiences are supposed to root for and identify with, it's probably not a good thing.

The Story: For the record, I have no problems with the story itself...the way it's written, however...

First off, there's too much filler. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, as filler episodes have the potential to be fun when written well. The problem is that relying on filler instead of telling your story can leave some people (me) uninterested and angry. And the thing is, there is a perfect way to avoid filler that doesn't involve telling the overarching narrative: Introduce personal plotlines. Look at The Owl House, for example. There are several character-oriented narrative threads that get introduced within the first few episodes. Such as Luz learning magic, Eda's curse, her relationship with Lilith, and Amity's redemption. Therefore, The Owl House avoids any filler episodes just as long as it focuses on any of these plotlines and even introduces new ones. Amphibia has the plotlines, but it rarely focuses on them. Especially since the story takes way too long to develop. 

Every time I think the show is finally going to start moving forward and we can continue the story, there are like ten more filler episodes where everything comes to a screeching halt. Now, to be fair, there is an explanation why we're forced to wait for the story to move forward, and it's because the characters are forced to wait as well. But, even then, there could have been better ways to pad out that waiting than just adding filler. For example, I may not have been forced into an alternate universe where nearly everything wants to kill me, but if I was, I WOULD SPEND EVERY WAKING MINUTE I HAVE TRYING TO FIGURE OUT A WAY BACK! In the first season, how many episodes does Anne spend trying to figure out the mystery of how she got there and how to go home? Two. There are two whole episodes, out of thirty-nine, where Anne tries to figure things out...That is insane to me. But to be fair, season two is doing a much better job at moving things along...but it doesn't change the fact that the writers are kind of bad at telling their own story.

There are two episodes, "Anne Vs. Wild" and "Lost in Newtopia," where the story continues, but it's only in the last few minutes. The problem is that if you take those endings out, the episodes themselves do not change a bit. BUT because those are significant and essential moments for the plot, you can't take them out. Resulting in scenes that, while intriguing, come across as awkward in the long run. So now, my question is why. Why is the story handled so poorly? And I have one theory.

It Feels Like the Writers Can’t Decide What they Want the Show to be: Sometimes it seems like Amphibia is written as a pure slice of life series like Big City Greens. However, there are times when the show seems like it's intended to mix slice of life with fantasy like Gravity Falls. Now here's the problem: Big City Greens and Gravity Falls are two very different shows in terms of storytelling, tone, and character work. Big City Greens is an episodic comedy series where character development is unimportant, and the adventures rarely go beyond just being wacky. As for Gravity Falls, it is a show that is semi-serialized where the character development is constant, and the fantasy-adventures are always prevalent in every episode. And there are several episodes of Amphibia that could be a part of either show. Episodes like "Stakeout," "Lily Pad Thai," and "Little Frog Town" have plots that I can see being in Big City Greens. Then there are episodes like "The Domino Effect," "Toad Tax," and "Marcy at the Gates" that I could see being in Gravity Falls. These two groups of episodes are vastly different from one another that it causes Amphibia to feel disjointed in the process. Usually, I'm a fan when a series mixes different genres together, but do you want to know why something like Gravity Falls does such a great job at mixing slice of life with fantasy-adventure? Because, as I said, fantasy-adventures are always present in every episode. "Dipper vs. Manliness," "Boss Mabel," and "Roadside Attraction" each have the most basic slice of life plots of the show, but there is always a fantasy element or a monster to fight. There are entire episodes of Amphibia where there is no monster, and even when there is, it doesn't have the same amount of tension and weight that the creatures in Gravity Falls have weekly. A show like Big City Greens doesn't have to worry about monsters or evil villains every week because it doesn't need to. It's a show about the wacky adventures of a family of farmers adjusting to city life. Why would they have to worry about a monster every week when they just have to worry about each other. If Amphibia was the same way then there would be no issue. But because if it wants to be a mix of slice of life with fantasy, then it does need to worry about a monster every week. I usually try to defend shows that try to play both sides, but this show has to be the one occasion where I have to say pick one or the other. Because the writers tried hard to be both, and personally, I don't think they did a good job.

Characters Don’t. Stop. SCREAMING!: It's here we move on from what's objectively wrong with Amphibia to the things that just bother me personally...and this is one of those things. I get it. An over-the-top reaction to something minimal can be funny on occasion...but it's never "on occasion" with this show. Nearly every episode has characters screaming to get a laugh, and most of the time, it's more annoying than it is funny. It's Hop Pop who does this the most, and I just feel so bad for Bill Farmer. That voice already seems like it's hard to do, so being forced to scream and yell with it for the sake of comedy can't do him any favors. Other shows, especially ones on the Disney Channel, have characters overreact for the sake of humor, but it's Amphibia that I feel like it relies on this the most. I'm sure some people aren't bothered by this, but I am, and this is my review, so I'm mentioning it.

Poly: Speaking of things that probably don't bother other people...I feel like I'm making some enemies with this one. Because, boy, do I not like Polly. Her voice is annoying, she mostly causes problems for the family, and to me, her entire character seems pointless. No, really. Think about it. Anne is the main character, Sprigs acts as her emotional support, and Hop Pop acts as the voice of reason. What's Polly's purpose? Because all she adds are unnecessary jokes, character traits that could have gone to anybody, and acting more as a plot device than an actual character. The only justification for her that I can think of is that she adds gender balance to the main cast. Which would be more than acceptable if there was a point to her existence. But I think it's pretty evident with her exclusion from the original pilot pitch for the program that Polly's personality is practically pointless...that is most likely the only alliteration I'll ever do for a review, so you have better appreciated it.

If you like Polly, then more power to you. For me, I just don't enjoy her.

Sasha: Oh, nelly. I can already see the hateful messages I'm gonna get from this.

Now, as a character, I actually do like Sasha. I think her personality is interesting enough to dissect, and I think she acts as a perfect antagonist to Anne, the Plantars, and even Marcy if you want to get into it. My problem relies on how much the fanbase is already jumping on the "Forgive Sasha" train. Because, "Aw, she's just like Catra and Amity! So sweet, tortured, shippable with the main character, and--" STOP IT! Stop it right now...and think. With Catra and Amity, you see the environment they grew up in, you feel the abuse they deal with, you understand the reasoning of their actions, and you come to forgive them for who they are...At least for Amity, you can. For Catra, it requires more of an argument. But Sasha? Did we see the same cruel mistreatment to her friends? Did we hear the same coldness in her voice as she describes how to manipulate people? Did we witness the same damage she's done to Anne and Marcy in how they perceive healthy relationships? Apparently not! Because while everyone else is already on the same page that Sasha deserves redemption, I'm sitting here thinking that maybe it's for the best to be a little more hesitant. So far, we have yet to see any way to understand her reasoning and have yet to see how she deserves forgiveness. Sure, Sasha was willing to sacrifice herself for Anne, but did Sasha really earn that? It works as a sudden realization that Anne deserves better, but Sasha has yet to do anything that proves she can be better. Especially since the next time we see her, she's trying to help a fascist ruler get back up on his feet...THINK ABOUT THAT!

But, sure, she's meant to be forgiven. That can work. Because while Sasha shows kids the type of people they should avoid, she can also work as a warning for what kids should avoid becoming. That is a great thing to teach...but it can also be potentially dangerous. Because if incorrectly interpreted, Sasha can show kids that every person who seems toxic just needs a chance to change. And that is the last thing you want to teach, given how very few toxic people actually change. You want to know why The Owl House gets away with an equally dangerous lesson about how not every bully is awful? It's because it shows two sides of the spectrum by proving why someone like Amity did the things she's done while also saying that characters like Boscha and Mattholomule are just a-holes for the sake of being a-holes. Sasha has no one to compare to. Sure, there's King Andreas, but he's a government figure. They're built to be manipulative. Sasha needs someone that's on her level of cruelty to prove that while some people can change and have reason to do so, others don't. And seeing how I don't think she deserves to change, at least not yet, that is an issue. It's the biggest issue out of all the issues I have with this show.

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

So, yeah, I think it's pretty evident how I feel about Amphibia when I can write paragraphs about the stuff I don't like while barely being able to talk about the things I do like. Because I do enjoy this show. It's funny, most of the characters are enjoyable, and its discussion on toxic relationships still has me hooked to see what happens next. My issue lies with inconsistency. The main protagonist, storytelling, genre, and thematic purposes are all inconsistent. I'm interested enough to watch more, and who knows, maybe I'll make a final verdict review once the series comes to an end. For now, if you had to ask me what I’m excited to make a return, I don't know if I'll be willing to hop to it by saying Amphibia.

(Also, if you're still looking for that link for that pirating website I mentioned, now would probably be a good time to tell you that I really never did put one in. I told you, that would be crazy...That should teach you to try to break the law.)

[janumun]

So, I'm terrible with etiquette, being ladylike, wearing feminine clothing, etc. How do you think Comte would deal with me if we were dating? XD

In one sentence, dear Anon, I would tell you: Comte's definition of an ideal woman would be whatever his Lady is like. 😆 You may skip the first three paragraphs after this one if you wish to jump right to the heart of your question. I hack away at bits and pieces of Comte's personality before getting into how he would feel about a woman like you in the fourth paragraph. Now, for the long answer.

The man simply does not care if you're not up to date with the traditions and customs of the 19th century high society. Whether you prefer wearing more 'practical' clothing to long, over-flowing skirts or vice versa. You might be the type to get down to business with your fists or you could be the one who dons on a mask of specious smiles and fluttering lashes as you hide your daggers beneath the many layers of your dress.

And no, I do not say that simply because le Comte de Saint Germain is supposed to love you just as you are but because he has had his own fair share of wild, exciting moments in his life. Way before he was ever the gentleman we see now, he used to be an unscrupulous bastard (I kid, I kid, Comte. Or do I? 😂) and I believe that has extensively contributed to Comte's more unbiased and unusual view of the world, for a 19th Century man. We have read how the Comte alludes to the more... adventurous phases of his life in main stories (especially Leonardo's route). He's far from the definition of 'proper' himself, which in itself is relative.

I believe he's amongst the ones in the mansion who would not be surprised about your choices of dress/self, even if we do not count in the fact that he's been to your future and back. As a man who has lived that long and seen quite a lot of the world, be it the fancier or the darker side, the past or the future... it has widened his scope and has been a fascinating learning experience for him, so to speak. But let's not wax too philosophical. 🤣 Moving on and away from dissecting him as a character in regards to his acceptance of a woman like you—

The "fun" parts 🥴: Have you seen some of the card dialogues for this man? Or random kiss event screens? A stray catch of conversation. A couple of thoughts he might let slip once in a while? 😂 Allow me to back up my claims of this man treating you like his Perfect Queen™️ no matter what your style is, with the help of this screenshot:

Look at that face. Those words that encourage you to bypass all manner of propriety. Not so gentlemanly now, huh? 🔥

I repeat! This man does not care! He loves and worships at your throne!

If you stride into the dining hall, sweat soaked and muddy from your labours out in the garden (it is a tough job!), an affectionate smile is immediately pulling across his lips even amidst stunned stares. He's requesting a bath to be drawn for you, rising to accompany you if/when you ask, thanking you for your hard work.

His Lady can easily drink some of his best boys under the table? Not lady like, you say? Pfft. It makes for long, pleasant nights in your presence. And even if you can't, he loves to see the rush of red rise to your cheeks as he moves to swipe careful fingers across the color. Gathering you into his arms before carrying you back to your bed.

What the Comte loves is your tenacity, be it shining through in being true to yourself or be it the way you tackle life. The Comte sees the best of all humans amalgamated, within you. And even if his Lady wishes to learn and adapt the basic etiquettes of this century; how to walk, to dance, don on corsets... the like. He is here and he is more than happy to teach you, chérie, provided you do not do it for anyone but yourself.

He may also not make a gift of expensive fabric and jewelry if you do not use it often but the man does find ways to dote on his lover, still. You shall have his gifts; small tokens he considers, of his love. Fond of writing? Comte is purchasing only the finest of ink and the smoothest of papers and diaries. The scent of turpentine on easels and paint on your fingers. Accept his gift of paints and brushes. The grip of a sword, heavy in your hands as you hone your skills with Napoleon and Jean. A fine rapier is what he makes a present of. Horse riding? Sewing? Studying? You name it. He is here to spoil you, however you wish. In whatever form you wish.

[Last, I'd like to say I did go over a similar MC concept, in one of my asks: a Feral MC to be exact 😆 And I think the general consensus was that the man adores her, no matter what the other residents might think of his 'peculiar' tastes. 🤣🤣🧡]

[ayusaurus]

I’ve been seeing this topic come up way too often on Twitter recently and I just need to vent, but: Can we please stop equating fiction with real life. And I mean that in the sense that fiction, while incorporating elements of reality, does not represent reality as a whole.

I say this because a voice actors recently got harassing and dangerously threatening messages for the work she did on TLOU2.

Like regardless of what your feelings are of the game, she is a paid actress voicing a character. She is NOT the character herself.

I know that fiction can be harmful, I know that it can be used to create things we are uncomfortable or triggered by. But we need to be able to discern reality from fiction because this moral policing and “wokeness” that was pushed by purists within fandoms, winds up hurting actual people. It’s a way to shush people from being able to use fiction as a catharsis when there is no availability of therapy. You threaten to disallow spaces for people to interact with ideas that would be wrong, unsafe, or illegal, in a place where you can do so safely with consent.

There is a reason people tag things. There is a reason blacklists exist. Creators are not responsible for your mental wellbeing outside of tagging things so you can make the personal decision of wanting to consume that product. By putting all blame on creators and media, without having the nuance of rational and critical thinking, you are forcibly removing responsibility from yourself.

I say this because when Columbine happened back in the 00’s (I believe,) people were so quick to point fingers and say video games are to blame because the shooter played video games. But while it MAY have been a cause, what went overlooked was the fact that this kid had things emotionally/mentally that went unaddressed to where he wound up committing a mass shooting. There’s only so far that the excuse of what he consumed can be traveled before the root cause need to be examined.

Like, I myself have played shooter games, and never once have I thought, “lemme go grab a gun and shoot someone.” Never once have I consumed sexual media that was outside of the vanilla realm and thought “man I’d love to do some of this stuff without consent.” I’ve never once saw Spider-Man and thought” I should really break into a train station so I can get bit by a spider and gain its super powers.”

If we keep pointing fingers at the media, compared to addressing the underlying cause of our discomfort, we will never actually make the changes needed to progress forward. We will continue to dumb ourselves down in society because it’s far easier to blame the fictional worlds, universes, alternate realities, than it is to do the hard work of making changes. And if you say we should ban ALL problematic fiction, then you’re setting up a framework which threatens the whole realm of fiction. Because certain topics may be banned today, but eventually down the line, there isn’t any room to wiggle and you find everything is gone. The room to be allowed a voice no longer exists.

Fiction can be a positive place. We all use it to escape reality. We use it to explore things we’ve never had and have wanted, like love, family, friends, wealth, healthy sexual encounters, and all of that is valid. But many people want to use fiction to give their trauma and pain a voice that they maybe never had the strength to voice in their own lives. Some people may want to explore dark themes because understanding why things happen and what causes it leads to a growth in perhaps better attacking real life themes. Some people just want to use fiction just to blow off steam and do things they know is illegal irl and would never do to hurt someone irl.

And yes, there are people who will use fiction to manipulate people, but we need to stop viewing the tool of media as being just as bad and worth locking away as the individual using manipulative tactics in conjunction with media. Because the fictional media is not the problem, the individual who is using that media maliciously to hurt others is.

We also need to do a better job, or I should say parents and teachers need to do a better job in helping kids and students understand where fiction ends. We need to teach kids how to better interact with problematic themes and how to step away from things or blacklist things that make them uncomfortable. Just like if you don’t like the color blue in your own clothes, you don’t buy it, then if you don’t like themes of domestic violence, you don’t consume it.

However I will also add, there is a place for consuming problematic media for the sole purpose of understanding why it’s bad and dissecting the themes which make it bad so we can be better equipped to handle such topics. We have to also understand why it’s so problematic under an educated situation or else we will keep having these back and forth, black and white, no room for debate charged talks of why problematic content shouldn’t be allowed. Additionally, the less we allow problematic content, the more people will be drawn to it, the more people won’t have a safe area to explore those topics, the more likely they will be to hurt others. Like IRL, teen pregnancy was pretty high when I was in HS and that was becaus instead of talking about pregnancy, sex, contraception, etc, ppl acted like abstinence was the only way. They neglected to understand that teens do have sex drives, they want to understand them better, and without more open education, they then turn to fiction to understand it. Which is dangerous. Instead of doing the work of addressing topics irl, it gave more voice and responsibilities to creators who may have been using fiction as a therapeutic tool when they may not have had access to traditional therapy.

Like I get it, I really do. I have my own history of trauma, but I’m not about to demand fiction to stop existing - because when it’s all said and done, erasing fiction does not erase the hurt or real life consequences I have to live with. It does not do any good to dismantle a space for people to have room to explore topics in fiction. It does not do any good to try and ban things in hopes that it will stop. Because let me assure you, even if fictional media gets banned, other tools can and will be used by shitty people who intend to harm. And we need to be willing to acknowledge and accept that, because bullying and harassing people over fictional media is disgusting, and puts them on a similar level as the problematic media they are trying to fight against, except they are the ones causing actual harm. If you can’t see that, then that’s part of the problem and you’ve been, frankly, brainwashed to believe that as long as the problematic media goes away, any means to get there is justified. That is not, and should never be okay, and we need to do better in understanding that it’s a tool used by manipulators who want to do harm under a pretense of “the moral good” and/or “think of the children,” when they themselves don’t do anything to ensure real life children are staying safe and being protected in their communities. You can’t moral police if you aren’t willing to stand up for actual children, or victims of any kind, if you think fictional realities have more weight than real life.

Because it doesn’t.

Overall, we really, really, need to do better in understanding and combatting that, otherwise we are no better than bystanders who look at things going on IRL and letting them happen. We need to not equate what someone likes in fiction being a tell for who they are individually. We need to do better in educating ppl how to interact with content they do not like. We also need to do better in pushing for better mental healthcare and making it more affordable. We need to do a lot, but we need to stop pointing the finger at fictional media and actually combat the root issues.

[forlornmelody]

Three Robins Rose Has Kissed And The One Who Kissed Back

Rating: Explicit (there’s smut, and lots of swearing, and some implied drug use.)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: JayRose (Jason Todd/Rose Wilson)

AO3 Link: Here

Summary: Rose Wilson has a type and it is former protégés of Batman.

Note:  For the sake of this story, I'm assuming both the events of the Crisis continuity, and the New 52, happened. (But we're just gonna pretend DC didn't nerf Rose for daddy-fodder, kay? Kay.)

-*-*-

“Rose.” Nightwing stares down at her, narrowing his eyes, but his grin betrays him. “Something tells me you’re doing this on purpose.”

“What makes you say that?” The mat presses up against Rose’s back.

“That’s the third time today I’ve swept you off your feet.” Dick’s got her in a full nelson, one of his escrima sticks pointed at her throat. He’s not actually going to bust her, though. Nightwing, the former Boy Wonder, is too good for that sort of thing. It frustrates her to no end. 

“Maybe I need more practice.” Rose can’t help the playful lilt creeping into her voice. The blue and black look good on him--better because they hug his body in all the right places. All she has to do is tilt her hips--there. One flip and Rose leans over him, pressing both his wrists against the mat. 

“You? You’re better than this.” Somehow it sounds like Dick is commenting on more than her training room flirting tactics, and the smile slips from her face. Like he hasn’t hit on half his opponents already. Hypocrite. She’ll show him. 

Time slows as Rose closes in, so close she can hear Dick’s heart speeding up. Just as her lips are about to brush against his--Dick turns his head and her kiss lands on his cheek. “Oh come on.” Just like that--Dick’s on his feet, launching Rose off him.

“Focus, Rose.” 

Their sparring session continues, and Dick never once brings up the kiss. He drives her crazy, in more ways than one, but she seems to have him off-balance for now. Rose presses her advantage, and she pins Dick face-first against the Robin costume on display. Freezing, Dick sucks in a breath. Before Rose can ask what’s wrong, he shoves his elbow into her sternum, pushing her away. 

“Dick?” 

“Not now.” He doesn’t even look at her as he slams the door behind him. 

What’s his hang-up with his old costume, anyway? 

-----

Rose’s only on this team because of Dick, because even though he doesn’t lead the Titans anymore, what he says goes. Even when the Titans hate his decision. Even when they hate their newest member with a passion. Even though she tried to kill them before. 

But Rose knows more than just martial arts. And she knows just how to get under Tim’s skin. Or on top of it, rather. 

Click. Tim’s got her pressed face-first against the mattress and her hands cuffed behind her back. Somehow Rose suspects this isn’t a bondage thing. Too bad. She really liked the feel of Tim’s lips against hers. 

“Hot damn.” Eddie stares at them through the open door and Rose can literally see steam coming out of his ears. That might be normal for him. Rose hasn’t been paying attention, at least not before now. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Tim says quickly.

“Yes it is,” Rose says even quicker. Sometimes Rose’s visions don’t help much. People’s choices determine the future and people can be oh so finicky. It drives her nuts. Fights are one thing--people either want to kill her or they don’t--the rest they have ingrained through practice or the lack thereof. Knowing whether someone wanted to get in her pants--well. Apparently, she hasn’t quite figured that one out. 

Tim pulls her cuffs off, extracting himself from the bed and putting some distance between them. “Put some clothes on.” Damn. She’s 0-2.

But with the way Eddie’s eyes linger on her as she slides her armor on? Maybe it’s not a total loss. 

----

First Stephanie giggles, and Rose can hear it echo across Gotham’s rooftops. “What are you doing?” Then her smile slips, and the silence is deafening. 

Rose leans in closer, both their asses teetering on the edge. “You and Tim are on a break, right?” Her lips part, and she can smell the lavender in Spoiler’s shampoo. Their breaths intermingle and she’s so close to--

“Rose, I’m straight.”

“Seriously??”

----

Honestly, Rose had given up trying at this point. Jason Todd--Gotham’s best, or perhaps worst bad boy--should have been an easy target. Except he wasn’t Rose’s target, not this time. Her employer wanted Roy Harper out of the picture--Jason was just in her way. And he rarely left his best friend out of his sight. And Rose thought Koriand’r would’ve been more of a problem. And with her out of town--possibly out of planet--this should have been a piece of cake. Just get off The Red Hood’s radar by getting into his pants. How hard could it be?

Way harder than Rose ever imagined. 

But the price on Roy’s head? Too high to pass up. With that kind of money, Rose would be set for life. No more relying on her dear dad to help with bills every so often. Or his car. Or his safehouses. She could even get her brother the care and protection money to keep him away from all those bent government agencies and mad scientists who wanted to dissect his brain, or worse, use him for their own ends. 

So, Rose stayed. Even after Jason turned her down, more than once. 

The first time, it’s on a mission in Hong Kong, where Rose just so happens to be going after the same target. The Jade Dragon--Kingpin and Slum Lord who owned half the Indian Ocean. Roy waits for them on the roof with their getaway ride, and Rose joins Jason in the elevator. Halfway up it just so happens to stall. She really outdoes herself. 

Jason’s blue eyes stare not at her, but at the emergency hatch. The back-up lights cast a soft glow on his skin as Rose closes in. “It’s probably a power failure. No way they don’t have backup generators in this place.”

“Yeah. But they don’t run the elevator when the power goes out--in case of a fire.”

Jason swears under his breath, eyeballing the distance from his feet to the ceiling. “So what. We’ve got about ten, maybe twenty minutes before they fix it?”

“Something like that.” Rose touches his shoulder. “Relax. Where’s your slumlord going to go? The roof?” The stairs don’t go to his penthouse. She checked. Something about a security risk. Rich wackos like him like to be airlifted out in case of emergency. 

Pressing his lips together, Jason lets out the breath he’s being holding for two minutes. “You’re right.” He slumps against the back of the elevator, staring at buttons like they’ve personally wronged him. “I just hate waiting.”

Rose slouches next to him, not quite touching him, but close enough to where they can feel each other’s heat. “I know how we can pass the time.”

Jason blinks, finally giving Rose more than a passing glance. “...You’re kidding, right?” He laughs softly, and it’s the softest she’s ever seen his expression. “We just met.”

The batkid who got hired for jacking the Batmobile’s hubcaps, who had a reputation of going just a little too far when beating up bad guys, who actually killed more than one villain who got under his skin. Jason Todd--the guy on ten international watch lists--a prude. Who knew? 

----

Except Jason isn’t really a prude, now is he? Nah. Rose’s caught him stealing glances at Kori more than once--always looking the other way when Kori’s boytoy Roy stands nearby. Hell, the way Jason and Roy fool around sometimes—Rose’s not completely convinced of the joke. She’s even found some saucy text messages in his phone, and more than one picture of a gorgeous flight attendant. An old flame--Rose guesses. 

But he doesn’t spare her a second glance. 

And it’s not like Rose doesn’t know what she’s doing. Infiltration isn’t her favorite--she’d much rather blow up The Starfire with a heavy payload. Simple. Quick. A big, beautiful explosion to light some fire in her eyes. But the fucking employer wants Roy’s head as proof. Says he and his friends tend to walk away from this sort of thing. Her employer seemingly has all the time and money in the world--so long as Rose completes the job. She’s starting to wonder what Roy did to piss him off. But she knows how to get under a guy’s skin--the right clothes, the right words, simple gestures to lure him in. 

The second time it’s after the mission, when they’re celebrating with drinks--with sparkling cider instead of alcohol (what is it with these guys?) Rose dons a bikini with his favorite colors--red and black and lounges on the deck chair next to Jason. Roy and Kori have the right idea--already having forgotten their bubbly beverages--drinking instead from each other’s lips. And Jason’s staring up at the stars. 

 Rose kind of envies him in that moment, floating on the water with nothing but wonder on his face. She swan dives at the opposite end, swimming her way toward him. The splash does stir his floaty, and Jason turns over to glance her way. Maybe, just maybe she has a chance. 

“Nice moves out there today. You dad teach you that?”

Rose shrugs. “My mom taught me a few things, too.” Mostly how to draw in close without her mark noticing. But nothing seems to slip Jason’s attention. 

Jason eyes her as her arms brace themselves on his thigh. “You really want me, don’t you.”

“Can’t fault a girl for trying.” And damn her, he’s gorgeous, and cut like a rock. Was it all his years in the batcave or his time with the All-Caste? 

But that’s not want hooks Rose the most. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not like that.” It’s the softness in his eyes. She’s only seen it a couple of times in the past few days, but each time he looks at his friends like that Rose swears she’s being let in on a big secret. 

“Do not tell me you’re gay.”

Jason laughs, laughs, and Rose immediately knows she’s in too deep. “Gay? Straight? Labels. Who needs ‘em?” He stretches out on the pool mattress, and he lets the leg Rose’s leaning on slip into the water. “They’re just more rules.” 

“Then why…?” Rose doesn’t say it. Doesn’t voice the rejection sinking into her brain. Admitting it out loud would mean admitting failure, and Rose Wilson does not fail. 

Shrugging, Jason murmurs. “Don’t know you well enough, yet.”

----

Rose should’ve given up at this point. Gone for the easier kill, damn the consequences. Just snapped Roy’s neck while Kori was in the shower. And why hasn’t she? She hasn’t the foggiest idea. But if she’s honest with herself--Rose knows exactly why. 

Roy is Jason’s best friend. 

Jason would never forgive her if he found out. 

And why does it matter if Jason hates her? 

Damnit, Rose. 

This was exactly the kind of fucked up shit her dad warned her about. Don’t stick around too long. Don’t make friends. Don’t let your mark get under your skin. And what did Rose do? Exactly that.

Her employer doesn’t care if she seduces Jason Todd or not, so why does Rose? 

Damn it all to fucking hell. 

Rose beats the hell out of the punching bag, shaking the chain it hangs from with every strike. Each punch she lands inspires a new idea. Slip some arsenic in his drink. Stab him from behind. Throw him off the roof of the ship. Press a pillow into his face. Snap his neck. Snap his fucking--

“Rose?”

Her fist freezes midair, and she pants, not bothering to turn around. “Yeah?”

“It’s Roy. Something’s happened.”

Fuck. “Is he dead?”

Jason’s eyes tighten as he shakes his head. “We need to find him. Fast.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

----

Rose should be happy. Roy did all her hard work for her. Someone found him while he was on a bender, tied him up, and has been carving up his skin as if the answers themselves will bleed right out. 

Amateurs. A professional knows only to interrogate a sober target. Establish a baseline of what the hostage knows and then break them down with intoxication if need be. Break them slowly, only as much as needed. Dead hostages can’t answer questions. 

“Arsenal?” Jason whispers, tilting up Roy’s chin. He doesn’t respond, and his head flops down, heavy against his chest. 

Kory shoots the nearest window, a low growl escaping from her throat as glass shards rain down the side of the building. Rose jumps a little, despite herself. She doesn’t want to imagine being on the receiving end of one of those star bolts. 

“C’mon, Roy. Answer me.” Rose never thought she’d hear Jason beg, not like that. She can’t stand it. 

Walking over, Rose check’s Roy’s pulse and sighs in relief. It’s sluggish, almost too faint to feel. Rose could put him out of his misery right here and now and his friends would have no idea who killed him. Just slip her knife in to hit his artery and bam. Problem solved. Her fingers slip toward the knife on her belt, but Jason’s pleading gaze stops her cold. 

“Is he…?” Oh fuck. Jason has tears welling in his eyes. 

“Alive.” Rose can just see the barrel of the gun her employer will use to tie up loose ends. “Not for long, though.”

Between the three of them, Jason, Rose, and Kory carry Roy back to the ship where they can apply first aid, and the ship’s alien technology can perform a synthetic blood transfusion. Roy’s pulse slowly returns to something recognizable, and Rose sinks in her seat. She’s deciding between her safe houses when Jason’s fingers graze her jaw. 

Rose jumps out of her seat, using everything in her power not to deck him in the face. “The fuck…?”

“Hey.” Oh. Jason’s nose is so close to hers that she can feel his breath on her face. She can smell the mint he just put in his mouth. Never once did Rose imagine Jason could be such a sap. The heat of his fingers sears her skin, but she doesn’t pull away. Rose dares a glance down his lips and when she looks back up Jason’s already tilting his head to meet hers. 

His kiss is softer than she expects, lightly brushing his lips over hers, holding her jaw just enough so she can slip away if she wants to. Rose freezes, never expecting this after all this time, all those refusals. Jason starts to pull back before her brain finally stops dividing by zero, and she grabs the back of his neck, crushing her lips against his. Swearing softly, Jason meets her tit for tat, and they stumble out of the med bay and into the hall. 

Rose presses him against the wall, slipping her hands inside the opening of his favorite jacket, feeling the heat rising off his chest and the rush of his heartbeat. Part of her still expect to wake up from this dream in her bed alone, heart hammering, skin flushed, thighs damp with need. She mouths a silent prayer into his lips, to the god she never bothers to answer to, pleading to make the dream real, just this once. 

Jason’s hands wander across her shoulders, down her arms, and around her hips to her back. Rose steps between his legs, pushing his jacket off his shoulders. Breaking for air, Jason’s words come out ragged. “We...we should pick a room. Yours or mine?”

Instead of answering him with words, Rose guides him to his door and shoves him inside, tossing his jacket to the floor. Jason stares at her breathlessly, and she hesitates. “Too much?”

“Never.” His fingers wind in her hair, pulling her back into another kiss.

Rose drinks him in like she’s parched for thirst, scratching the edge of his hairline from the tips of his ears to the base of his skull. Jason sucks in a breath and Rose grins into his mouth. She tastes him, gasping softly as his fingers twist in her curls, pulling at her hair just enough. HIs other hand wanders just south of her waist and he freezes. Stepping back, Rose loosens her hold, looking him over from head to toe. 

Jason pants, taking her in too. “...Are we…?”

Leaning against the closed door, Rose folds her arms. “Are we what, Jason?”

“Is this a onetime thing or…” Jason’s eyes trail back in the direction of the hospital room and suddenly the tension between him and the other Outlaws make a lot more sense. 

Damnit. “I’m a merc, Jason.” Really, she should be happy with the kiss, more than the kiss, but this--former Robin proves hard to let go of. “I’ve stayed here too long as it is.”

Jason’s eyes narrow ever so slightly and Rose plasters on her poker face, hoping he hasn’t found her out tonight of all nights. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Push me away.” His voice wavers as he speaks, and Rose’s heart plummets to her stomach. Damn him. 

“What do you want from me?” And damn her too, that waver is apparently contagious. 

Jason steps closer, sliding his hand in to cup her jaw, the edge of his thumb grazing the bottom of her cheek. “I don’t want to just fuck, Rose.” His eyes close, and he brushes his nose against hers. “I want to--” He clamps his mouth shut, trembling slightly in his touch. 

The word teeters on the edge of his tongue, but it doesn’t come out, so Rose pulls it out with a snarl. “Loving me will get you killed, Jason.”

A sloppy grin forms on his face, and Jason nods at her. “Death isn’t as final as you think.”

“So what. You’re immortal now?” She’s grinning too, and she knows she’s fallen too far to get back up.

Jason brushes his lips against hers. “I sure feel like I am when I’m around you.” His next kiss probes deeper, and one hand tugs on her elbow. “Stay. After this is over.”

Her answer is right there, just inside her mouth, but Rose says something else instead. “Oh? You’re that sure I’m a good fuck?”

His lips smack against hers. “I’m not here to fuck you.”

“Jason--”

He silences her with a finger, and then he traces the edge of her lips with his fingertip. Rose resists the urge to pull it into her mouth and suck on it. She’s doomed. “I’m here to make love to you.”

Rose swallows, freezing on the spot. “I can’t promise you anything.”

His smile slips, and she desperately wants to put it back on his face. Rose doesn’t want to break his heart, not anymore. “Rose--”

“No one can.” Tracing the space where his heart hammers in his chest, Rose whispers softly. “Someone could break in ten minutes from now and shoot me in the head.” Standing up on her tiptoes, she kisses his forehead. “Nothing’s guaranteed.” Then she kisses the back of his hand. “Doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it while it lasts.”

Jason watches her, his face inscrutable as ever. 

Shit. Did I make things worse? Rose opens her mouth to murmur another apology but Jason kisses her before she can say a word. He pulls her close, his hands seemingly everywhere at once, and yet she craves more of him. Daring to slide her hand up Jason’s shirt, she grins into his lips as he leans heavily into her touch, a groan escaping from his lips despite himself. She grazes the lines of his abdomen with her nails. “Oh,” Rose says softly. 

Jason Todd. Blushing. As he watches her. “Like what you see?” he says just as soft. 

“I haven’t seen anything yet.” She ducks down, pushing up his shirt and following its path with her mouth. 

“Fuck.” One of his wandering hands finds its way back to her hair, holding her head as she breathes against his stomach. “Rose.”

Rose stands up, grinning against his collarbone. “Getting there.” She finds the hollow where his neck meets his shoulder and lavishes her attention there, charged by the tightening of his grip. 

Jason pushes her to arm’s length, taking a ragged breath. He drags down the zipper of her jacket, taking in the sight of her skin inch by inch. Rose presses into his touch, admittedly reddening a bit herself. His lips part with hunger, but it's the wonder in his eyes that stops her in place—like he sees the stars flickering across her skin.  With his fingers he traces the scar on her shoulder and the ones that line her arms. Sucking in a breath, he circles the mark of a bullet on her chest. “That must’ve hurt.”

“Like hell.” Rose mutters, only to gasp when Jason presses his lips against it. “Jason.”

“Shh,” he says softly, breathing in her scent as he edges his fingers beneath her bra and the plastron it holds. He traces a path up her neck and across her throat until he makes it to her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Why does the thought of him being gentle make her heart beat faster?  Part of her wants him to have his way, and take his time exploring her body. Another, much louder part wants to rile him until he takes her fast and hard. Rose grabs the edge of his shirt, looking up at Jason. He nods, and she bites her lips as she pulls it over his head. 

Holy shit. 

Rose thought she had a lot of scars. Jason has so many she doesn’t even know where to start. There are the bullet marks, the punctures, the rhythmic signs of torture, the line going up the side of his neck and into his hairline where a crowbar must’ve bashed his head in. It’s not until Jason tilts her chin up that Rose realizes she’s been holding her breath. “I’m still here,” he whispers, pulling her into another kiss. She wonders how many times he’s kissed Death on the lips, only to pull back when it wanted him most. 

“Soon, you’ll in bed.” She grins against his lips, finding the latch on his belt. “Booby traps? Really?”

He laughs once, running a hand down her breast, feeling the softness of her skin there. “Safety first.” When he gets to the lines of her abdomen, he swallows, drawing a grin from Rose’s mouth. 

Stepping back, Rose eyes the latch, her brain already processing the potential catastrophes, and the configurations that would enable them. “Gotcha.” The belt clicks open, without a single explosion or poison released. 

Jason blinks at her as she sets the belt aside. “I can’t decide if that’s hot or terrifying.”

Rose stands up on her tiptoes, whispering in his ear. “Why not both?” She punctuates her question with a bite on his ear lobe. The rumble of his groan stirs her chest, sending shockwaves between her legs. Hooking her thumbs in his belt loops, Rose pulls him closer, grinding up against him. 

“Rose--” He says, in pleading or in warning, Rose isn’t quite sure.

“What do you want, Jay?” She runs the tip of her tongue up the ridge, shivering at the way his ragged breaths stir her hair. 

“Bed,” he says hoarsely, “now.” He pulls her with him, and they tumble into the sheets, boots still on. 

It’s a race, then, to see who can get the other’s off the fastest. Four thunks, laughs, and tangled sheets later, Rose climbs up his body, guiding his hands to her belt. Jason’s removed plenty of belts, that Rose is sure, but it’s like he deliberately fumbles his hands against her skin, just so he has an excuse to graze his knuckles there. And damn him, her skin jumps every time. Fine. She’ll make him lose track for real. Rose plants a wet kiss against his lips, running her hands down his shoulders and his arms, guiding his fingers until her belt clangs against his bookshelf before sliding to the floor. “Better,” she murmurs. 

Jason runs his fingertips along the edge of her jeans, drawing his touch up and down her spine. “I could stare at you for hours, you know that?”

Rose snorts. “I can think of better ways to spend your time.”

Tilting his chin in challenge, Jason sits back. “Oh? Like what?”

Biting her bottom lip, Rose catches his wandering hand, and takes it to the button of her jeans. “Lemme show you.”

Jason holds his breath, unbuttoning her jeans and drawing the zipper down. He’s so quiet Rose starts to doubt what her late-night visions have been telling her for months. Maybe they weren’t her precognition talking. Maybe they’re just the wet dreams so many guys and girls have had ever since Jason donned a mask. Searching his eyes, Rose says, “We can stop--”

Holding her gaze, Jason replies, “I don’t want to.” HIs fingers follow hers inside her jeans and inside her underwear, and he sucks in a breath. “Shit, you’re wet.”

Rose blushes, despite herself. “You really all that surprised?” She presses his fingers in slow, small circles, holding onto the headboard behind him for balance. Then she moves his touch faster, harder, gasping against his shoulder. “Nn, fuck.” 

“Breathe.” Jason chuckles softly, pressing a kiss into her shoulder. He moves his fingers more independently now while she’s distracted. And Rose breathes him in, awash in gunpowder and amber, and that salty scent he bears after a fight. Always so uniquely Jason Todd that the smell of it sends Rose right over the edge. He shakes them both with his laughter. “And our pants aren’t even off yet.”

“Shut up.” Rose pulls back to look at him.

He smirks. “Make me.”

Jason doesn’t need to say it twice. Rose assaults his lips with hers, pushing him down into the mattress. Making quick work of his jeans, she pulls them down as he shimmies out of them. Boxers briefs, huh? They’re just a simple grey with a black waist band--for some reason she’d expected some sort of smart-alecy words printed on them.  Sliding down, she runs the tip of her nose up the line of his bulge, grinning as he writhes beneath her. While she sits up, Rose edges her fingers inside, feeling along his length, breathing in Jason’s unsteady gasps. Always so coy and cocky, and now he can’t form a single word. “Cat got your tongue?” she murmurs against his ear. 

Jason turns his head, kissing her long and deep, rolling them over. Rose lifts her hips so he can get her jeans off, and he kisses just south of her belly button. “Mm.” Glancing up at her, Jason grins, kissing harder against that spot, lavishing his tongue until she squirms beneath him. But she doesn’t beg, not yet. The lines in his back are coiled tight, so tight his body might burst at the seams, but Jason takes his time, kissing down her hips, her thighs, her calves. Swallowing her whine, Rose reaches for his shoulder, but Jason takes her hands, placing them back at her sides. 

“Patience, Rose.” He silences her protests with a kiss, diving back between her legs, edging them apart so that he has room. His lips find her ankle, the back of her knee, and Rose heart pounds as he gets closer and closer to her underwear. There’s no hiding her need for him now, with the way it soaks the front of her boyshorts. Jason samples the taste of her through the fabric, giving her one long lick. 

“Oh fuck.” Rose gasps and twists, and Jason has to hold her down with one arm slung across her abs. He peels her underwear off, testing her with different pressures and strokes. Every so often, she catches him looking up at her, assuring himself he’d doing it just the way she likes. Her insides clench, and she twists in bliss, but Jason doesn’t stop, only pausing briefly to come up for air. Even then, his fingers fill in while he wipes his mouth.

“Shh.” He whispers against her mouth, reaching over into his bedside drawer for a condom. Did she say something? 

“Yeah?” Rose asks, and her voice comes out hoarse. Fuck, she must’ve been screaming. While he slides on the condom, she’s reaching over for a bottle of water, downing half of it without giving a fuck to whom drank from it last.

Jason returns to her, surprisingly shy when they’re so close to merging their bodies. He gives her one chaste kiss, then another, letting her lead the pace. She winds one hand around the back of his neck, scratching the skin at the base of his skull. The other she uses to thumb the scar next to his eyebrow, the sharp line of his jaw, the sheen of sweat running down his neck to his collarbone, and that delicious line that runs down to the thatch between his legs. Guiding him inside her, Rose closes her eyes, letting his groan wash over her shoulder. 

Rose traces circles across his back as he thrusts in and out, only to grip his shoulder when he picks up the pace. Jason grins against her mouth, sliding his hand between them, and Rose jolts, clinging to him as she whimpers into his neck. “It’s okay,” he murmurs against her mouth. “You can let go.” His tone meanders between loving and teasing, and maybe for Jason there is no line between them. 

She doesn’t want to, not again before he does. But then Jason has to fucking whisper sweet nothings in her ear. 

“You’re so beautiful when you let go,” he says softly, and her world flashes white, much like it does on the cusp of a vision. Her body coils like a spring, and Rose hooks her ankles around his hips, drawing him deeper inside as she clenches around him. 

Jason’s eyes pinch shut as he loses his tightly held control, and Rose rolls her hips until he falls to her side. “Holy hell,” he gasps softly, muffled by his pillow. 

“Yeah.” Rose shouldn’t, but she can’t help but kiss his left temple, tucking them in and tossing the spent condom aside. 

She spends the night committing every line of his body to memory. And it helps soothe her in the weeks, months, and years ahead. 

---

The next morning, Rose rolls to get closer to him, only to find his side of the bed empty. In his place, Jason left a small, folded piece of paper, and Rose takes her time undoing all the creases. 

Rose,

You’ve no idea how amazing you are. I hope last night isn’t the end of it, but I understand if it is.

--Jason.

Beneath his name, Jason’s inscribed his number, and though Rose memorizes it within seconds, she always keeps the note close, in her utility belt or between her bra and her plastron, next to her beating heart. 

[writtenbyhappynerds]

Unit 5- Twins Are Very Stupid

    If you haven’t taken the Exam 1 quiz for Fanfiction 101 go do that!! That quiz covers material from the first four units: Rules for the Universe, Formatting, Face Claims, and Names. Everything from this unit onward will be a part of Exam 2.

    Much like cliches in regular fiction, there are a plethora of cliches that exist in fanfiction. Some are specific to certain genres, some are on a wider scale as a whole. For this unit we are going to dissect common themes and ideas first based in specific genres (re: fandoms) of fanfiction and then open the floor up to widespread cliches as a whole. We’ll start with Twilight.

    In Twilight, the biggest cliche we see is Bella Swan having a sister who is, “not like her sibling at all!” This isn’t original. It isn’t creative, and 9/10 times the unique sibling is a lot like Bella Swan they just talk more than her. Regardless of your feelings towards Stephanie Meyers and her books, what this shows me is a writer who is uncertain of how to approach the quiet, observational, internalized thinking of Bella Swan as a character. It also shows me a writer who believes loud is the complete opposite of quiet and because someone shouts their opinions more boisterously than the next girl, that makes them unique. Neither statement is true. Imagine Bella Swan’s sibling really being the complete opposite of her. Like, imagine Bella’s little sister in Seattle doing coke off a stripper’s asshole. You can’t. So don’t say that she’s the opposite. She isn’t, and that’s ok. Siblings can have common interests and like the same thing, and your OC is not a bad one if they are similar to Bella Swan. A better contrast to Bella Swan would be an OC that’s athletic. Bella Swan from the get-go is described as someone who is not an athlete, doesn’t spend time in the sun, and likes to be by themselves. A sun-kissed volleyball-playing little sister would be more contrasting to Bella Swan than someone who is again, her but louder.  

    In BBC’s Sherlock the biggest cliche the Editor and I have seen is Sherlock having a twin sister who is also a detective. Now in Unit 3: Face Claims, we discussed that Sherlock’s sibling shouldn’t be the voice of reason or conscience while also doing the exact same thing as him. This still stands. If Sherlock has a twin, that twin shouldn’t be seen as “the good one” or “the nice one” when they shoot the same things, break into the same places, and act just as manic as he does. It isn’t consistent. The twin should not be a carbon clone that is smarter and prettier and gets along with everyone else. That’s not a character, that’s a Mary Sue that solves crimes. There are 10,000 jobs in the world, and the best way to break the monotony of Sherlock’s twin is to make her something that isn’t a detective. Make her her own person. For example, Sherlock could have:

    A twin sister who works as a crime statistician for the government. She’s been given a cushy office she doesn’t deserve because of Mycroft and she tries to call her brothers once a week. They don’t necessarily answer. She needs to use criminal trends to track where Moriarty will be so Mycroft can have him arrested and interrogated.

    A sister who went to school for law, and became a powerful and wealthy corporate attorney. Sherlock paid off everyone in a mile radius? She paid off everyone in a 5-mile radius. She makes sure his bills are paid, his fridge is stocked, and that he and John are happy without either of them knowing. She uses her knowledge of the law to find holes in Baskerville’s policies that would allow Sherlock and John to sneak in.

    A twin sister who’s a mom of two and likes to paint. She teaches at the local college and babysits her neighbor’s kids when she’s out. Mycroft is the godfather of both of her kids, and she likes to crochet when she has the time (she never does). She needs to figure out why the painting is a fake and what book fits the cipher.

    My point is that Sherlock can have a twin. I don’t care, and that doesn’t trigger me like it triggers the Editor (I think she just has something against twins). Sherlock’s twin should have a personality of their own. The cliche in this genre is Sherlock having a twin that’s essentially, “genius but better.” If you make her exactly like him you limit the potential to make a story that’s compelling. You also break the rules of the universe, as you’ll have to go back and rewrite all the episodes to include her. Don’t do that to yourself.

    In Supernatural, The big cliche is the boys having a teenaged Winchester sibling and/or a guardian angel. Bonus points if Cas is the guardian angel. I’ve also seen a lot of ‘Sam Winchester’s Guardian Angel’ and if that’s you after all the things that character has gone through you need to be fired. These ones just don’t make sense. They break the rules of the universe and make the cast have to bend over backward just for the character to exist. The original work should not be broken to fit your narrative. You have to make your prompt work in their established universe. Unfortunately, teenaged Winchester siblings do not work. There is not enough of a time gap between what we know about the story and this prospect to fit a 16-year old child. The same stands for Dean Winchester’s child. It doesn’t fit, so don’t try and force it to fit. You can have a teenaged hunter be significant and interact with the Winchesters without them being blood. By forcing them to be blood you go against one of the main themes of the show: Family don’t end in blood. Stop making Bobby Singer’s child OCs, or Cas’s, or Sam’s, or another illegitimate John Winchester child because we already have one who spent god knows how many years in hell. Instead, John Winchester could have family he’s estranged from. An older sister or brother who left the Winchester house after they turned 18 and never looked back. You could create a new pair of hunters, an OC who runs the halfway house for Hunters. Garth stepped in as Bobby when he died. Who stepped in for Jo and Tess? There are more options and much more creative options than pigeonholing one specific cliche.

    Moving on, in the same vein of not needing an OC to be bound to the cast by blood, Hermione/Harry/Ron’s twin sister is a huge cliche. Sometimes the Hermione twin sister is also, “not like her sister at all,” a phrase that usually means, “also brilliant, but more attractive and funnier.” The origin of these OCs, however, is minuscule to the fact that they always either end up dating Draco Malfoy or are in a love triangle and/or square, where all the boys in Harry Potter (Cedric Diggory, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Dean Thomas, and Draco Malfoy) are in love with the OC. As a matter of fact can we just get rid of love triangles altogether? They’re exhausting and not realistic. They don’t add enough to the story to make it meaningful, and an OC should have a story that’s more compelling than “which boy am I going to end up with?” Also, usually, these stories tell you in the title. I’m talking about the [Fred x reader], [Draco Malfoy x Reader] titles, though the same is true for any writer who puts [Love Interest x OC] in their title. What is the point of a love triangle my guys? What are you doing? We already know before we even read the first chapter who the main character is going to end up with, so why bother wasting our time with a love triangle?

    The other Harry Potter cliche, is the youngest Weasley sibling who is a girl. This is a huge no-no and should be stricken from the record entirely because, once again, it breaks the rules of the universe. We know from the Harry Potter books that Molly Weasley wanted and craved a daughter and kept having kids until she got one. This is why Ron is the least loved, as he was the last boy in the family before Ginny, as said by the Horcrux in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows “Least loved always, by the mother who craved a daughter. Least loved now by the girl who prefers your friend” (Rowling 375). What this means, is that if you make an OC who is the youngest Weasley sibling, and a girl, you completely go against the desires and intentions of Molly Weasley as well as devalue and undercut the importance of Ginny Weasley- her tokenism as the only girl is tied to the significance of being the first and last daughter Molly Weasley ever had. Without that, with another girl there is no need for Ginny Weasley, and as we’ve discussed numerous times here: Your OC should never replace a member of the cast. What is acceptable, however, is Ginny Weasley having a twin sister, or even being a triplet. If you are sold on a youngest-girl Weasley fanfic, make them a twin or triplet of Ginny. If you go above or below her you break the rules of the universe. They have to stay on her level. In addition, please see Unit 4: Nameberry.com to properly name your Weasley sister OCs, as they have to fit the style and vibe of being named after nobility. Moving on.

    The next handful of cliches don’t apply to any particular genre. Every genre is equally guilty of having these cliches, and what we’re going to do is use some works for specific examples of these cliches, but know that they apply to everyone; not just the work we’re referencing.

    If a character is marketed as a strong and capable badass who is independent and a boss and kicks ass and takes names, they should not turn into a wimp because their love interest wants to “protect” them. “Protection” as a whole is such a cliche. It’s in practically every story. If a character has been described as strong and has up until this point kicked a lot of ass, that character will not break down and destroy all the character development they just made for the sake of a love interest. A character who is described as strong will also not let their love interest try and stifle them like that. “Protection” is overused, and unless the character is going to crumble like a daisy at first blood or is living in a war zone, they can handle it themselves.

    Again… We’ve all seen Pretty Little Liars. It’s almost funny how many cliches came from that show and book series. Let’s talk about evil twins. I don’t just mean evil in the Alison DiLaurentis way where she stole her sister’s identity and had her carted off to inpatient treatment, I also mean evil in that they are everything their cast member sibling is, but superior. This is evident in so many siblings and twin fics. The evil twin is usually better at everything than the cast twin, and systematically destroys the cast member’s life for fun. Now, I’m not saying this isn’t a valid plot point. What I am saying is you can’t make the evil twin better at everything than the cast member twin. That’s not realistic, and it negates the need for a struggle. A villain is not a more intimidating adversary because they’re better at everything than the hero. An evil twin is not scarier or more frightening as a villain because they can do 3 flips into a punch while the hero only can do 2. Also if the villain is so wonderful and so much better how is it realistic when the hero defeats them? It isn’t. “The same but better” shows me as a reader that the writer is uncomfortable with character creation, and making stakes that mean something or seeing their character struggle.  Not only will it make the OC more realistic, but it will make the story more fun to write.

    A writer uncomfortable with the struggle is another cliche we see often. It takes the form of characters who are perfect, who hit every step just right and have the best comebacks all the time. We as people fail and fall down, and characters are meant to be a reflection of us that we can relate to. An audience won’t relate or root for a character that always accomplishes their goal. It actually makes the character boring because, we know they’re going to do what they set out to do so why bother reading? Characters are allowed to have flaws. Those flaws, and seeing consequences for those flaws are what make a character compelling, and for every positive attribute that a character has we should see 1-2 flaws that reflect that attribute. For example, in my own original work Trapped, the main character is an alien on a planet that is thousands of years ahead of Earth in technology, intellect, and scientific advancements. One of these characters is an upstart student training in one of the top labs to be a doctor. He has people working underneath him, and he’s clearly achieved. His work ethic is incredible and he is dedicated to his field. However, his dedication has cut him off from his family- their relationship is strained to the point where one of his siblings entered the same field just to catch a glimpse of him. He is afraid to be emotionally vulnerable because he has to have the answers to all these questions. He doesn’t know how to relax, because he’s always at work and this has cost him a life outside of the lab. He gets annoyed easily because he thinks fast enough to see the answer and becomes frustrated when he has to work with other people. We’re going to revisit this in the next unit, but a character without flaws is a boring character because the flaws are what allow us as readers to do our own analysis and find a deeper meaning in someone as a whole.

    Our final cliche is the ire of the Editor’s existence. It is twins who are separated at birth or end up in foster care that magically find each other at the start of the story. I also kind of hate this cliche, because again, we’ve all seen The Fosters or is it Switched At Birth? I don’t know, and I don’t really care. If you have a character who is taken from their actual family, you need to double-down and commit to the issues that OC would have. That character wouldn’t show up on someone’s doorstep and magically be taken into the family as one of their own. Life doesn’t work that way. The foster care system is a horribly broken system (at least in the US it is) and that character many times won’t have access to that. In the US, for that information to be given there needs to be reciprocated interest in both the fostered child and the biological parent (usually the father). In divorce proceedings, the courts will almost always give the child to the mother unless the mother has a severe strike against her that would make her unfit to keep a safe environment for her child (prison time, drugs, etc.). The courts really dislike the idea of taking a baby away from its mom, which means that fathers rarely get custody of the child, and a non-blood relative even less than that. When the child is underage, the biological parent can’t show up on a doorstep and demand to see their child. They need to go through the courts and express a desire in having a relationship with their child. The child would then get an advocate, who would speak for them in court and make sure their wishes (to see or not to see their parents) are expressed. The foster system is messy and wrong and sometimes cruel, and if you are going to write switched at birth or foster-twin stories, you need to do your research on the judicial system. It isn’t just showing up on a doorstep with a birth certificate. It’s gritty and messy and if you want it, you have to take in it all.

    Next week we are going to talk about realism, and how to really capture both the voices of cast members, as well as realistically write living scenarios. Remember to take Fanfiction 101 Exam 1 if you haven’t yet, and everything from this unit until Crossovers will be on Exam 2.

References:

Joanne Rowling. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Scholastic, 2007.