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toast-the-unknowing · 6 months

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on fanfic plagiarism

Almost five years ago, in January of 2019, someone I'd never met before reached out to tell me that one of my Pynch fics, "Word on the Street," had been plagiarized.

I remember that the stolen fic was posted in k-pop fandom, though not what specific band it related to -- I'm not into k-pop, or really into pop music at all.

I remember that the person who messaged me told me that they had found my fic because the plagiarist had a reputation for stealing fic, so when they'd posted a new story, this person had known to do some digging.

I don't remember what the plagiarist's username was. I remember scanning the stolen story, trying both to read every detail and to avoiding taking any of it in, because looking at that right-but-wrong, not-quite-there, uncanny-valley-ness of it made me queasy.

I remember being darkly amused that the plagiarist had cut out the reference to the main character suffering physical abuse at the hands of his father -- I guess it didn't make sense in the context of the new character. It's almost like the story wasn't written for him. It's almost like someone wrote the story about Adam Parrish, instead.

I filed an AO3 complaint, on the grounds that this was a blatant and unarguable violation of their plagiarism policy. Within twenty-four hours, they got back to me, and the story was removed.

It was a weird, uncomfortable, gross feeling, knowing someone had taken words I'd written and passed them off as their own.

But at the same time -- "Word on the Street" was a silly thing I dashed off pretty quickly, during a period of my life when I was doing a lot of writing. It hurt to have it stolen. It was a violation. But…I had other words, that were more important to me. Maybe that was a buffer.

Last month, about six weeks ago, someone I'd never met before reached out to tell me that one of my Pynch fics, "there's talk going 'round this town," had been plagiarized.

I was, bizarrely, amused.

I was less bizarrely furious. I was understandably, relatably, I would say rationally, furious. But in a way (and as always, when I say in a way, I am calling back to the scholars of overthinkingit.com for whom in a way is meant as the thing I have just said or am about to say is false) -- in a way, I was amused.

The plagiarist clearly did a 'find and replace' on the character names, to replace Adam and Ronan's names with those of k-pop characters. They did a bad job of it, since the name "Ronan" still appears in one paragraph and the name "Parrish" still appears in two paragraphs. The fic is here, in case anyone doesn't believe me, under the name "i do(n't remember)". At first when I complained about the fic on tumblr, I didn't mention the name, or which fic they'd stolen, because I was worried about anyone…I don't know, making a scene. I've stopped caring. AO3 user springguk is bad at find and replace and they should feel bad. About their computer skills, and also about their blatant plagiarism.

springguk also did some more edits to my fic, I have to give them credit for that. I wrote "there's talk going 'round this town" within a relatively short time span, for me. I tend to either finish things within one week, or else take several months. I believe this one took about five or six weeks completely to write -- I was very inspired.

(I was inspired, specifically, by the press coverage of Winona Ryder and Keanu Reeves 'discovering' they might be 'accidentally' married. I mention that in my author's notes. springguk doesn't mention what 'inspired' them in their author's notes. I wonder how they talk about it with friends. They do, in their author's notes, include a link to their ko-fi, and a request that people buy them a coffee.)

If I'd taken longer with this fic, I might have made some edits. Even at the time, I knew I was being self-indulgent in letting the scene with my teenage female OC talk at such length with Ronan about what his non-canonical film career had meant to her, a person the audience didn't care about. But I had fun. I liked Fox. I didn't want to cut her, and what the hell, it was fanfic. I decided to self-indulge.

I was darkly amused to find that springguk did cut out the scene with Fox from their plagiarized version. Maybe springguk is a more disciplined editor than I am. Maybe springguk just didn't have a good k-pop character to map Fox onto. Maybe springguk didn't even realize that Fox was an OC. Do you know anything about the fandom you steal fics from, springguk? I can't help but wonder. Have you read The Raven Cycle? Do you care about teenage OCs who steal cars because of fake films that are clearly meant to be stand-ins for The Fast and the Furious franchise?

Maybe springguk just didn't give a fuck, because none of their heart and soul was poured into this fic. I cared too much about Fox. springguk doesn't care about a single word in the fic they published. Why would they? They didn't write it.

I'm being a little mean in naming them so many times. But I'm able to, this time, because although I filed a plagiarism complaint with AO3 six weeks ago, springguk's stolen fic "i do(n't remember)," is still available to read on AO3 to this very day. I don't have to wrack my brains to remember what their username was, or which k-pop band they recast my work with. I can just look at their fic with its 24 comments and 151 kudos. Hell, maybe that fic is even better than mine, if you don't mind that by cutting the sequence with Fox they've sacrificed a fairly substantial development in the romantic relationship, and also if you don't care that at one point the characters names switch from Jeongguk and Taehyung to Ronan and Parrish, because seriously, for fuck's sake, if you're going to steal a fic at least do a goddamn ctrl+f at the end.

I was mad. I was amused. I made a complaint that the AO3, six weeks later, has still not acted on. I mostly moved on.

Tonight, someone I'd never met before reached out to tell me that one of my Pynch fics, "while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now," had been plagiarized.

I wanted to vomit.

I was supposed to be playing Dungeons and Dragons online with friends tonight; I spent the entire call unable to focus on anything anyone was saying. I had to keep reminding myself that I was on camera and my face wasn't supposed to look like that.

"while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now" is the first of a series of, currently, twelve fics. skytoseungmin, the person who stole it to pass it off as their own work, knew this. Their stolen version was published as part one of a series, though they hadn't published any of the sequels. Presumably, they wanted to wait long enough to make it plausible they'd gone and written the follow ups, instead of just finding them.

skytoseungmin likely didn't know that this fic and this series are intensely personal. They didn't know that the apartment that Adam -- Seungmin, in their ill-gotten version -- lives in, that was based in part off of the apartment I lived in for a year in Pico-Robertson with talldecafcappuccino. They didn't know that the 7-Eleven Adam buys coffee at is the same one I used to tease talldecafcappuccino for buying coffee at. They didn't know that the strip club where Adam and Ronan have their humorously ill-timed romantic revelation outside of, that was the strip club I used to use as a landmark when giving people directions for how to navigate the confusing as fuck freeway exit I lived near, which once caused me to accidentally tell my highly Catholic parents "just go past the strip club and you're good!"

skytoseungmin didn't know that the apartment Adam -- sorry, Seungmin, thoroughly, they were better with find and replace than springguk -- lived in, was also based off of my ex's apartment in Palms, where I as the mere visiting girlfriend was never allowed to park in the parking lot. Where I would sometimes have to spend twenty or thirty minutes circling the neighborhood before I could find parking, often a walk of several minutes away. skytoseungmin doesn't know that when Ronan's car get towed from a McDonald's parking lot, that that was a specific McDonald's on Venice Boulevards, the same one my ex's asshole roommate used to just roll his eyes and say that I should park at. skytoseungmin doesn't know that I once wished passionately that I had just parked in that McDonald's parking lot and risked getting towed, on the occasion that a man followed me several unlit blocks from my car. skytoseungmin doesn't know that when I talk about how helping someone park is the truest love language there is in Los Angeles, that that was what I meant. Has skytoseungmin ever had to circle to half an hour to find parking in Los Angeles? Has skytoseungmin ever loved someone enough to do that, instead of saying, fuck it, they can come to me or we're breaking up? Has skytoseungmin ever loved someone in Los Angeles enough, to do as my ex did, and come running as fast as humanly possibly when their girlfriend called them whispering and crying on the phone, someone's following me, please, I'm scared, I wish I just parked at the McDonald's?

"while we're on the subject, could we change the subject now" is a very personal fic.

It isn't half as personal as some of the fics that come after.

skytoseungmin marked their plagiarized version of the fic as part one of a series. Were they planning on stealing part two, where I, through an alternate universe characterization of Ronan Lynch, dig into my experience of grief and trauma surrounding my grandmother's dementia? Were they planning on stealing any of the explicit fics, where I play with kink and desire in ways I haven't even exposed to my actual sexual partners, but where I felt able to through the guise of fandom? What else was skytoseungmin planning on stealing, with charming little author's notes apologizing for how they missed the fandom-relevant date they were shooting for, because they were so busy with exams, tee-hee! Why the excuses, skytoseungmin? how long does it take you to ctrl+f, even if you are more thorough about it than springguk?

If I seem too accusatory and mean-spirited toward skytoseungmin, well, the LA verse is a very personal fic.

And it's also, it turns out, only one of eight different fics that they stole from me.

I didn't even notice at first, to be honest. I was too stunned. But my friend Jessie, my Lady Galahad, went to my defense and clicked through to the author's page, while I was still reeling at the horrible possibilities of part one of a series. It turned out, of eight fics on skytoseungmin's author's page…I had written every single one of them.

Some were short and pretty lighthearted, things I hadn't had to invest too much of myself into -- like I said, sometimes, I can write a fic in under a week.

Other things…

They stole the space western AU.

I don't think I can articulate to any human being how much that hurt me, to look at it, to see.

I wrote that as a thank you gift for someone who donated to Fandom Trumps Hate.

I spent nearly two years of my life on it -- two years during which, because of mental health issues and life situation changes, my words per year dropped precipitously. I still haven't recovered. I still think of what a failure I am for not writing more, currently, actively, and I remember how the space western AU was both a symptom of that and a defiance of it: yes, writing has become fucking hard, fucking NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE, but I'm still doing it, goddamn it, you can't stop me, even if all I produce is the tiniest trickle of words a month. it can still add up, somehow, if we just keep TRYING.

To see the space western AU, casually nestled amongst a half dozen other fics that were all apparently casually dashed off in the same month…I know it was theft, I know it was a lie, but it still felt like a slap in the face, why can't you write this fast?

Jessie, my Lady Galahad, went on a campaign of commenting on all of skytoseungmin's (my) fics, and I am so thankful. The k-pop fans who heard Jessie have been reaching out, to her, to me, to each other on Twitter, and I am so thankful for them too. skytoseungmin has deleted all of their (my) fics on AO3, and their entire AO3 account, and their entire twitter, apparently. Maybe they were hoping to get enough clicks to parlay them into some kind of book deal, and they'd now rather give up what was a low investment effort on their part than be associated with accusation of plagiarism.

I suppose they can always start over with a new user name and someone else's fics if they really want to.

I suppose they can always start over with a new username and my fics, if they really want to.

And after all, AO3 has still not reached out to me about springguk, and "i do(n't remember)" is still sitting there. Maybe springguk is also going for a book deal. Who knows?

Why complain about any of it?

In a way* (and remember what "in a way" means), isn't it a compliment, if someone loves the words I wrote, even if they don't know it was me that wrote them? toast-the-unknowing and shinealightonme, if they're the same name (and they are), then why not springguk or skytoseungmin, too?

Am I making too big of a deal out of this? Does everyone just have their work stolen from them, all of the time? Is that simply the cost of doing business in an era and an ecosystem where we all can copy and paste twenty-four thousand words with greater ease than our ancestors could transcribe a single phrase? Are more prolific, more famous, more successful fan authors looking at my piteous cries and thinking, bitch, you've only been ripped off by k-pop fans ten times, come back when you have real problems?

And yet in a month, a year, a whole life phase of not being able to write as much as I would like to, because of my health, because of my work, to have someone else just casually pass off the words I have managed to eke out, as though they have no value, as though it were no more than photo copying a shitty flier to stick under a windshield wiper…

I can't imagine springguk or skytoseungmin give a shit how I feel about any of this. At best, they roll their eyes; at worst they laugh to know they hurt me -- and what's the difference between the two? I'll never know either way.

I know that some of the people they duped do care, and are also upset. That helps. And also, it doesn't help.

I just fucking hate all of this, and if all I have are words, and if my words are valuable enough for someone to steal, then here, here are enough of them to choke on. I know I did.

#long post #fandom #plagiarism #that whole plagiarism thing

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hazelfoureyes · 10 days

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Not hazbin related— sorry for the odd not horny personal post

Donate here if you’re able and wanting to (PayPal username is JHilliard109) sharing is also a lovely way to help support me (support my mother)

So.

You may have noticed I was briefly MIA recently , and it’s because I’ve been ✨stressed and angry✨

My mother is currently in remission for breast cancer and was excited to use the state dental insurance she was notified in November she had. She lost some teeth to chemo, along with other issues, only having three teeth on the bottom of her jaw but all of her teeth on top.

In March she got approved and scheduled for May surgery to remove all her teeth and for her denture appointments in June. They had her get rides two hours away because they said they’d only pay for that specific doctor in network. (She can’t drive due to seizures)

After they took all her teeth, they called and said she actually wouldn’t be covered for the dentures or the surgery they already did. She was told, “Lots of people are out there walking around without teeth.” They said her insurance actually ended at the end of March, despite no notification and still approving the May and June appointments. They said it was a state thing and didn’t know why it ended. Even the morning of the May surgery they CONFIRMED she was approved with her dental surgeon. Then four days after the surgery they said “oopsies no you weren’t.” And sent her a 4800$ bill.

They can eat my entire ass.

So, they took her teeth and then told her tough luck. They made a mistake in approving these and won’t own up to it. She’s made it through cancer just for some knobheads to take her goddamn teeth.

Did she have a lot of teeth before? No. But she never would have had them all taken out if she hadn’t been told she was approved for fully paid for dentures. She even asked to get just half dentures (bottom half) and was dissuaded. “We will only pay for this procedure one time, so it’s best to get it all done at once.” (Paraphrasing)

If you can, we’d appreciate any help in getting my mom some teeth. We’re looking into a place that would offer payment plans and looking into lines of credit to make it happen but anything would help offset the shocking and unfair burden placed on my mother.

We’ve been quoted around $3500 for a full set of “standard” dentures (meaning…not… the best? Lmao Jesus I don’t even know what that means but it’s what we can manage. I didn’t know they had good and bad ones??). We’re using PayPal as we don’t expect to raise that full amount, so gofundme wouldn’t be helpful.

We are getting her some goddamn teeth one way or another, but any help would be immensely appreciated.

Because I’m in Japan we’re using my sister’s PayPal. If you’d considered tipping or using my ko-fi in the near future, consider instead donating to help get my mom some fucking teeth. 🫠 any money I receive through my own PayPal and ko-fi will go to this anyway. I’ll be working more, too, to add to the dentures fund.

fuck Florida and fuck the government for doing this to my mother 🖕🏼 had they not made SEVERAL mistakes in approvals and lack of communication she would have teeth still. So in my angry opinion, they fucking took them from her by misleading her into an unnecessary surgery.

my mom, before the cancer and chemo took her hair and a breast, and before her teeth were bamboozled out of her fucking skull (with her grandbaby)

#Hazel says help #I wanna fucking scream #How is this real life #fuck florida #I feel like I’m going fucking crazy

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fourswordsannotated · 7 months

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akira himekawa are unbelievably cool.

soooo here's the thing. i was looking at akira himekawa's website on a whim and found a public blog, with posts that go all the way back to 2009. many hours of google translating later, and i've developed an even stronger admiration of these two women and their exceptional career as manga artists. they share so much in these posts about the creative process, their thoughts on social justice, their connections with nature, and their most major original story, gliding reki, which seems to have always been a passion project in the midst of commercial work.

from what i could gather, reki is unique in that they were determined to do it in full color. and they did it, because after reading about their career, it's clear to me that when these women set their mind to an idea, they make it happen. see also: they just recently produced and distributed their own art book, because no publishers were offering to do it in a way that pleased them.

their stated goals for reki were to make something more adult than their previous children's manga, taking place in a city, involving a lot of mechanical art, and featuring stronger romantic and self-described erotic subtext. good for them. before i get into the four swords-related stuff, i'm sharing what i could find on the internet about reki.

more under the cut, because there's quite a bit to discuss :)

not much that i could find on the blog specifically references four swords, but they have many fascinating insights about nintendo, the zelda fandom, and the franchise as a whole. i can't know for certain because this information was surmised from translated text, but it seems as if their manga with chibi link made them feel a little stifled, which is why they took a long break before returning to do twilight princess. it's not lost on me that even a work like four swords, which they may regard as not their favorite or best, still has inspired and brought together so many passionate, creative, and diverse people. this is especially sweet because it seems as if they met each other, and formed their creative partnership, because of a shared fandom interest of their own.

honda and nagano have shared their thoughts and feelings on this blog for more than a decade, and they have a lot of thoughts and feelings. throughout their entire career they've made commentary on work-life balance, their experiences as women in a male-dominated field, and their desire to create original art while simultaneously enjoying some commercial work as well. they are passionate about social justice, particularly re: women and indigenous people, and offer insights on aspects of culture and history and the state of the world that really could resonate with anyone. and they really seem to appreciate fans of their work, and emphasize repeatedly the care and thought they put into their manga in the hopes it will inspire and bring catharsis to readers. they love animals (especially wolves), being outside in nature, being nerds about art they enjoy, a certain subgenre of romantic manga that appealed to and empowered female readers in the 90's and 2000's, and traveling around the world to partake in activities like horse riding and falconry.

the coolest part is, they're still updating the blog to this day :) in fact they seem to have recently returned to it, reflecting that twitter is not their preferred manner of sharing things online. they seem very familiar with and fond of older-school blogging culture.

there's a lot more i could say here about my findings, some of which do pertain to... certain ships 💜🖤 . but i don't want my genuine appreciation for these authors to be overshadowed by that kind of conversation. in addition to a link to the blog itself, i'm including a few translated posts of interests, which you can interpret and incorporate into your perception of the media however you please. at the end of the day, it's a really cool gift that these artists have chosen to share so much over such a long period of time. by making their personalities, beliefs, and insights more visible to fans of their work, i hope it brings new context to the stories we already love.

a modern-day insight:

re: the zelda mangas. these are from several points throughout their career. please note that they have so many fond things to say about zelda as a franchise and their work on the mangas, especially regarding the way they've affected fans. i encourage you to look for yourself, on their blog and their other socials!

re: gliding reki

re: the creative process (and in the latter two, the fandom that seems to have inspired them!)

re: their two goofyass adorable tiny dogs that they dress up in outfits while also loving wolves like a lot, they love wolves (both domesticated and wild), they really love wolves

re: wolf day (every day is wolf day,)

re: indigenous rights

re: painting serious works on commission vs their manga. i can't know for sure exactly what it means, but it really does kinda hit

re: a fan and manga artist in training bringing them art and a note

and a moment from a twilight princess manga interview i found very sweet :)

okay. you've made it to the end. i know you're wondering. here you go. please remember that this is and always has been a public blog, and these posts are actually from 2009 and 2010. also please remember that the point of this post is not to cause or fuel fandom discourse, but to appreciate these authors and the things that they choose to express.

(also, this is the column they were referring to in image 1. it's FASCINATING. give it a read if you'd like!)

the dots are there. you're welcome to connect them.

thank you for your beautiful work and insights, honda and nagano. please never change.

#akira himekawa #four swords manga #legend of zelda #four swords #loz #twilight princess manga #(yes there is v/dow stuff at the very bottom okay it's there just please read the rest)

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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I am IN LOVE with your writing! I’m a dedicated reader! 💓💓 thanks for taking the time to do it!

Hear me out. Reader pulls a 24 hour shift in the local clinic on a busy day and we get a protective worried din?

He would also be busy but he would definitely pull reader out and make her take a nap AT LEAST. 😂 anyway, I just thought that would be cute to think about.

I hope you have a wonderful day and keep up the good work!

[a/n: anybody wanna guess how many times it took me to try and post this b/c tumblr wanted to keep glitching and destroying it?? FUCKING FOUR. lord, im gonna go scream in a pillow. anyways, thanks anon for the great idea! also pls consider this my apology for the cliffhanger that i am so sorry (but not really) for.]

'A FRESH START' DELETED SCENE

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: reader overworks herself, mentions of injuries (burns specifically) but not in great detail

Word Count: 1,934

Summary: Everyone needs a break, and Din is hell bent on ensuring you don't skip yours.

#MID 17: TAKE A BREAK, DOC

[so not between chapters, but a scene within one of the time breaks in chapter 17.]

"be with someone who will take care of you. not materialistically but take care of your soul, your well being, your heart, and everything that's you." -unknown

Trying to get the emergency clinic established was not easy. You agreed to the job, and Karga had given you free reign. The High Magistrate was essentially allowing you to run the clinic as you saw fit. Which in part was fantastic because it gave you incredible freedom, but it was also your worst nightmare. All your training had taught you was how to handle the medical aspect of an office. The business and organization side was a whole other issue. Especially because the people of Nevarro were not understanding that this was for emergencies only.

“My ankle hurts.”

“Alright, when did this start? When did you get hurt?”

“I twisted it while jogging three years ago.”

“You⏤ Wait, what?”

In order for this to work the way it needed to, you’d have to focus on actual emergencies only. Alone you would never be able to handle the patient load that would come with servicing an entire city. Plus, you really didn’t want to. The amount of time it would take to even attempt that was insane, and Din needed your help with Grogu.

So, the plan would be to establish that this clinic was emergencies only, emphasize it to everyone who walked in the door, but for today you’d manage all the small, routine problems.

Just for today.

By lunch time, you had already seen 47 patients. None of which were emergent. In fact, the biggest injury was a young man who had dropped a glass plate at home and accidentally cut his hand. He needed four stitches.

“Aayla?”

“Four more in the waiting room, doctor!” Aayla called out without even having to be asked the question. She was a gift from the Maker today. Already, you had decided to try training her more in depth medically and hire someone else to work the front desk. “You also have a guest.

“What?” You breathed, barely able to catch her words.

Aayla didn’t need to repeat herself because that was the moment Din swept into the room with the same confident strut he naturally seemed to have. At the sight of him, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as your lips curled up into a smile.

“What is going on?” Din asked as he drifted closer to you. There were still two patients sitting on cots waiting for you to finish with them, but Din commandeered your attention by settling his hand on your lower back and staring down at you. Even through the helmet you could feel his concerned gaze. “Why are you so busy? I thought you were hired for emergencies only.”

“I was, but apparently nobody told all of Nevarro that.”

Din stiffened. “Did Karga⏤”

“No. I don’t think he tricked me into this or that this was on purpose.” You said quickly. “And everyone who comes in, I’m telling them that from now on it’s emergencies only.”

“But today?”

“Today, I am seeing every Nevarro citizen.” You chuckled. “You want a check up, Mando?”

“Ner kar’ta,” Din shook his head, “Have you taken any breaks at all?” You shot him a sheepish smile. “Come. Let’s get lunch.”

“I can’t. I’ll just get further behind.” You mumbled. Din looked like he was ready to argue with you. In fact, his hands even drifted to his hips as his head tilted. You had seen him take on the same stance before lecturing Grogu. You wrapped your hands around his forearm and gave him the most reassuring smile you could muster. “It’s fine. I’m just sorry I’m bailing on you for lunch.” He sighed. “You poor thing, now you’ll have to spend more time with Mayfeld.”

Din huffed and you chuckled. Aayla called out that more people were filling the space, and for a second you thought the Mandalorian Marshal was considering sending everybody home just so you could have a moment for lunch. You squeezed his forearm.

“Fine.” Din grumbled.

“Also, I know this won’t help my argument or convince you of anything, but,” You scrunched your nose with a small wince, “Do you think you can pick up Grogu today?”

Din seemed taken aback based on his voice alone, “How long do you plan on staying?”

You knew his question was one more focused on the concern of you staying here for too long versus him being upset that you couldn’t get Grogu. When you shot him another sheepish smile he just grumbled under his breath in Mando’a. Din caught you off guard by leaning forward to lightly rest his forehead against yours for a second.

“This conversation isn’t over.” Din said simply and you just chuckled in response.

He squeezed your hand once before leaving and you were forced to return to the patients you had. Ten minutes passed at the most, you got two patients out with Aayla’s help, when Din’s heavy footfalls returned. You glanced over your shoulder to see he was holding a bag of food. He crossed the space to set the bag in your hands and you peered in to see it was your favorite sandwich from the local shop. Your eyes glanced back up at him with a grin. The warmth of being seen and known settling in your chest.

“Eat.” Din said firmly.

“Thank you.” You replied. “I’ll eat it as soon as⏤”

“No.” He interrupted. A tilt to his head and a challenge in his voice. “I’m not leaving until I watch you take a few bites. At the least.”

You rolled your eyes, in good nature, and handed him the bag so you could wash your hands in the sink off to the side. On your way back to Din, you asked Aayla to bandage one patient’s knee and get imaging of another patient’s hand. Din had already pulled out your sandwich to set on the desk you had brought into the corner. Before you could reach for it, Din pointed to the desk chair. With a chuckle you dropped down into the seat, the first time you were off your feet all morning, and only then did Din push the sandwich toward you.

“Thanks.” You said after your first bite. More sincere than your last. Din was leaning against the desk beside you. Close enough that your arm could press against his thigh if you moved it over even an inch. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Apparently, I did.” Din chuckled. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have eaten at all.”

You couldn't argue. Instead, you just shook your head, “Not gonna lie, I always did have a bad habit of getting caught up in my work.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“Doctor, can you take a look at this?” Aayla called out.

You quickly took one last, large bite of your sandwich before standing. Din pushed off the desk to tower over you again. He nodded. “I’ll pick up Grogu, but if you’re not home by 5 I’m coming back to drag you home.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You teased.

Din leaned over to lightly tap his forehead against yours and you chuckled. He reached over to pick up your sandwich and held it up towards you. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t budge. Rolling your eyes, you leaned over and took another bite. Holding a hand over your mouth, tucking the food into your cheek, you spoke. “Happy?”

“Yes. Be careful. Message me if you need anything.”

You watched him leave with a bemused smile.

Never before had you been so acutely aware of the saying ‘when it rains, it pours’. Today had already been stressful and busy so it would make sense that at 4:25 in the afternoon an actual emergency rolled in. Nothing to test and stretch your skills like having to handle a trauma case after a full day of working. There had been an incident, on the other side of this world deep in the lava plains, where a group of smugglers got a bit too close to a river of lava with their weapons and nearly blew one another sky high.

The least injured of the three had flown them in. She had some superficial burns all along her left side. Then the other two had third degree burns that required some serious fluid replacement. You didn’t stop working, barely paused to take a breath, until all three were stable and resting comfortably. Only then did you drop down into your desk’s chair and rest your head on your arms with a sigh.

About twenty minutes later, a pair of hands settled on your shoulders, squeezing in comfort, and you would’ve been startled if you didn’t recognize the creak of Din’s leather with the comforting smell of his flight suit’s detergent and the polish used on his beskar.

“What time is it?” You groaned.

“8:42.”

“You’re nearly four hours late.”

Din squeezed your shoulders once more before letting a hand settle on the back of your neck. You found the weight of it grounded you. “I got here at 4:50. Saw you were busy with something important. Left then came back.” His thumb caressed your skin, and you pushed your head up to glance at him. Din had the hand not on your neck resting on the desk. “You alright?”

“Just tired.” You mumbled and rubbed your face with one hand. “Grogu?”

“He’s with Peli. Missed you at dinner though.” Din replied. “He acts up when you’re not around.”

“No, no. He’s a perfect angel, always.”

Din snorted at that, and the sound made you chuckle. You glanced over at the cots that held the three smugglers who slept soundly. All their vitals still stable. Din’s hand slipped down to rub your upper back soothingly. “You coming home?”

“I can’t. Not until the emergency shuttle gets here to pick those three up.” You sighed. “They have to be at a facility with a higher level of care than just me.”

“‘Just you’ saved their lives.”

“You know what I mean.” You shrugged. “You should go though.” Din tilted his head. “There’s no telling how long it’ll take for the ship to get here. I already sent Aayla home. I’m just babysitting right now. You should pick up Grogu and head home. Get some sleep.”

Din shook his head as if it were the stupidest thing you had ever said. He gently wrapped his hand around your upper arm and pulled you up from your seat. You let him drag you along to the fourth cot in the room which was currently empty. “You sleep. I’ll babysit.”

“Din…”

He lightly pushed down on your shoulders until you were seated on the cot. You stared up at him in question, but he just shook his head. “If something changes with their status I’ll wake you.” Din pushed you down a little further so you were laying down. The moment your body hit the relatively soft bed you felt yourself sink into it with exhaustion. Din went to walk, but you grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the cot as well.

“You can babysit while laying down, can’t you?”

“My armor isn’t gonna be much of a pillow.”

“Neither is this cot.”

Din chuckled and dropped down to lay beside you. You rested your head on his chest, the cool metal of the beskar biting into your warm cheek, and just sighed. It hadn’t occurred to you how tired you truly were until now. Din had an arm wrapped around you so he could grasp your shoulder with his hand and use his thumb to trace patterns there.

“Take a break, doc.” Din hummed. “I got you.”

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#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #female reader #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #fluff #comfort #nanny!reader #doctor!reader

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supernovafics · 1 year

Text

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.8k words

summary: in which the vecna events hurt you a lot more than you would allow yourself to admit to anyone. you lost your best friend, someone who was quite possibly your only true friend, and you just felt empty inside because of it. you somehow find solace in steve harrington and an unspoken bond forms between you two. you and him barely talk, though; talking is probably the last thing you do with one another. but, maybe, you should.

warnings: post season four, mentions of eddie, mentions of stancy, reader grieving eddie’s death, soft!steve, some fluff, SO MUCH angst, explicit language, smut (minors dni!), overall a lot of sadness but with a happy/hopeful ending

author’s note: this idea randomly came to me and i immediately stopped everything else i was working on to run with this lmao hope y’all enjoy!<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was because you almost died.

That was what you kept telling yourself.

It was the life-and-death situations that you had found yourself in that past month that led you into Steve’s bed almost every night. And it was also the fact that he’d experienced those fucked up moments with you.

You and Steve weren’t friends. Even after what happened a little over a month ago, you rarely ever talked to each other during the normal hours that most people talked to one another. In fact, you found yourself actively avoiding him during the day.

But, when night rolled around and you were feeling way too restless and insanely sad, you would call him and he would always answer because somehow he was always awake too.

When you pulled into his driveway on this specific night, you didn’t hesitate to head to his front door and give it three quick knocks. He usually would leave the door unlocked for you after you told him you were on your way, but you still liked to knock.

For some reason, the thought of letting yourself into his house made things feel a little too personal and intimate; even though you and him were doing perhaps the most intimate thing two people could do with one another.

When Steve opened the door, he gave you a small smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” You responded softly before walking inside.

You took notice of his attire which was typical, basketball shorts and a simple t-shirt, but his hair was much more disheveled than usual. It made you silently wonder if this time you actually had woken him up when you called.

You peeled off your jacket and toed off your shoes, leaving them both by the front door.

You followed him up to his room and quickly found comfort atop his bed as he closed and locked the door behind you both. Your legs dangled off the edge of the bed and you looked up at the ceiling.

“Were you actually asleep when I called this time?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

You propped yourself up by your elbows and looked at him. “You can tell me to fuck off sometimes, you know that right?”

He ran a hand through his hair, which let you know that he was at least a little bit nervous and there was also a lot going through his head right then. You wish you didn’t know that about him, but it was hard not to notice little things like that with all of the nights you’d been spending together.

“I could never tell you to fuck off,” He ultimately responded.

Why?

That was what you wanted to ask him, but you couldn’t let the word fall from your lips. Because you were scared about what emotional shit would be attached to his answer. You were scared that it just might finally break you open.

Ever since everything went down you felt numb from it all and, for the most part, you were okay with that. You liked not feeling anything because it meant that you couldn’t truly grasp the pain and grief you were experiencing.

By no means was it healthy, you knew that, but it still somehow made things a little better.

However, there was still a part of you that longed for something, anything, that resembled the opposite of the emptiness you were feeling.

And that was where Steve would come in.

He’d give you something that would momentarily fill that void while simultaneously making you forget all of the shit going through your head.

And you’d give him the same thing. Make him forget about the girl he was in love with who was perfectly happy with someone else.

The two of you needed each other. You would never say it aloud, but it was the truth, and you couldn’t let a question of “why?” potentially ruin that right then.

So, instead, you stood up and slipped off the sweatpants you were wearing and then pulled off the ratty old band t-shirt that had been Eddie’s. You hadn’t been wearing a bra under the shirt so you were standing in front of Steve in only your black underwear. His eyes slowly traveled up your body as he walked closer to you and a hand found your bare waist.

When this all started weeks ago, it slightly surprised you how you never felt nervous or awkward under Steve’s gaze. Somehow you always felt comfortable, maybe even a little safe.

You leaned into his soft touch and tilted your head up so that you could meet his lips. When your mouth met his, your mind effectively turned off and the next few moments felt like they were being lived by a different version of you. The version that was normal and not so painstakingly affected by grief and sadness.

Steve guided you back onto the bed, his lips not detaching from yours once, so that your back was flush against the comforter.

Soft words fell from his lips that you couldn’t decipher because you were so lost in your own pleasure.

You felt him almost everywhere. Lips against your neck and trailing down your body, hands squeezing your breast and teasing you through your soaking underwear.

“Please,” You found yourself muttering desperately as you bucked your hips upward a bit because you needed him so badly.

Steve knew what you were essentially asking for and he wanted the same exact thing. So when he pulled away for a second to remove his t-shirt and basketball shorts and boxers, you slipped off your own underwear and let him make you simultaneously feel and forget everything.

Three Weeks Earlier

“Hey.”

His presence startled you. So much so that you lost your balance a bit and almost fell into the lake.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington, you can’t sneak up on a girl like that.”

“Sorry about that,” He said and pushed a quick hand through his hair. “I don’t think there was any right way to get your attention.”

You tilted your head at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Also, how did you get here? I didn’t see your car parked.”

You turned away from him. “I walked.”

“That doesn’t sound like the best idea.”

A small shrug was all you gave him in response as you kicked a small rock into the lake.

You didn’t tell him that all of the walking you did made you so exhausted that the only thing you could think of when you finally stepped foot in your home was sleep and absolutely nothing else.

You’d come to learn over the past few weeks that it was way too easy for your mind to spiral when you were alone in your bed if you didn’t force yourself to stay awake and do things until you were completely sleep deprived.

“How’ve you been?” He asked as he walked over to stand next to you.

You almost laughed at how ridiculous the question was because, in your mind, the answer seemed obvious. You’d been sad, angry, upset at the world, sometimes even upset at Eddie— and you’d always end up feeling like a horrible person when you did become upset at him.

But you hadn’t seen Steve or anybody else involved since everything happened, so as ridiculous as the question was, it did make sense that he was asking it.

“Not the best,” You ultimately answered.

He waited a few moments to see if you would elaborate on what you meant, but you didn’t.

“You’re kinda one of us now, so you can talk to us whenever. You can talk to me.”

You took a quick glance over at him and saw from the look on his face how much he meant his words. “That’s the thing though, I don’t wanna talk.”

“So, you just wanna wallow forever?” His tone wasn’t accusatory like you expected it to be. Instead, he was genuinely curious.

“I just want to…” You let out a long sigh. “Forget. Forget what happened, forget what we went through, forget that he’s gone. Everything.”

Steve didn’t say anything in response to that for a few moments, and you fought the urge to look at him because you knew that he was either staring at you like you were crazy or pitying you. You couldn’t decide which look would be worse.

“Let me drive you home,” He said softly. You realized then that he probably felt sorry for you and his eyes were more than likely saying the same.

You kept your gaze trained on the lake in front of you. “I’m okay.”

“Please?”

You only nodded because you knew you couldn’t say no. He’d probably ask a bunch of questions about what was going on with you, and you were a terrible liar so you knew you’d actually have to be honest with him. And how were you going to be honest with him, if you couldn’t be honest with yourself just yet?

You allowed yourself to get comfortable in the passenger seat of Steve’s BMW, leaning back into the seat and staring out at the dark road ahead of you both. If the circumstances had been different you could’ve maybe found yourself falling asleep in his car. But, it was too quiet and things felt awkward, so you couldn’t help but say the first thing that crossed your mind.

“How are you and Nancy?”

Steve didn’t say anything for a few long moments, but then he cleared his throat. “She’s, uh, she’s still with Jonathan.”

“Oh,” You said, and couldn’t hide the surprise in your voice. During everything, it seemed like the two of them were on some sort of course toward getting back together. “Sorry.”

He shrugged halfheartedly. “It’s fine.”

Something about his demeanor told you that it actually wasn’t fine.

Your eyes glanced at the time displayed on the dashboard. It was two in the morning but you weren’t tired enough. And you really didn’t wanna go back home just yet.

“Um, can we go to yours actually?”

You fully expected him to question you and ask why you wanted to go to his place and not your own. But, he didn’t ask anything and instead gave you a small nod. “Okay.”

His house was quiet and although you weren’t entirely sure how long you’d be staying, you slipped off the sneakers you were wearing and left them by the front door.

“You want something to drink?” Steve asked. “I would also offer something to eat, but there’s nothing really here.”

You shook your head. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“This way,” He said and then led you upstairs to the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom.

When you flicked on the light and looked in the mirror, it was then that you noticed how bad you looked, and it actually made sense to you that Steve had wanted to take you home. Your face looked exhausted, but you didn’t feel tired at all.

The t-shirt you were wearing, which had been Eddie’s, was insanely wrinkled and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d taken it off, and the old dark sweatpants you were wearing had some random bleach spots on them.

When you exited the bathroom, after splashing some water on your face to hopefully bring some life back to it, you noticed Steve lingering by his bedroom door.

“You could’ve told me how insane I look right now,” You told him.

“You look… fine,” He said hesitantly and you rolled your eyes as you sat on his bed. “I think you just look tired?”

You let out a small sigh and crossed your legs underneath you. “I’m quite literally the opposite.”

He sat down next to you and things became quiet.

“Why were you at the lake?” You decided to ask as you turned to look at him.

“Couldn’t sleep, so I was just driving around,” He responded and you nodded at that as you looked down at your lap.

You silently wondered if the aftermath of everything was hitting him as hard as it was hitting you. You almost asked him how he had been doing since it all happened, but the question couldn’t form on your lips.

“I did mean what I said back there,” He abruptly said as he turned to you. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, you met his gaze. “You can talk to me. I know we didn’t know each other before everything happened, and we still don’t know each other that well. But, still… I’m here. If you ever wanna not forget about everything, we can talk about it.”

You appreciated his words, you truly did. But, the thought of actually talking about everything made you feel physically ill.

Steve placed his hand atop yours and gave it a light reassuring squeeze. The action was so minor and could’ve easily been deemed as meaningless, but it did mean so much to you. For some reason that you couldn’t decipher or understand, he really did care about you.

You shifted a bit closer to him and allowed your body to move faster than your thoughts could tell you that what you were doing was a bad idea. You moved into his lap, knees straddling either side of his waist.

“Is this okay?” You asked, eyes meeting his.

He nodded slowly and you could see the minor confusion on his face but you chose to ignore it because if you didn’t you knew that you would start thinking too hard about what you were doing.

So, instead, you kept your mind off and let your body run on autopilot. Your hands settled at the nape of his neck and you leaned down to kiss him. His hands were firmly planted at his sides, too scared that all of this somehow wasn’t real to touch you back, but he did kiss you with just as much passion as you were giving him.

It finally felt good to actually feel something; something that didn’t cause you sadness.

“Touch me, Steve. Please,” You said in-between heated kisses.

He didn’t have to be told twice and his hands were on you in an instant, sneaking under your t-shirt and rubbing the soft skin of your hip, then waist, then back, then all the way up to your bra-covered breast. You moaned at the feeling of him squeezing you through the thin fabric.

You pulled back for a second to pull off your shirt and toss it somewhere in the room, and Steve took the opportunity to flip the two of you so you were pressed against the bed and he was on top of you. Your hands found a home in his hair as the two of you resumed kissing with even more intensity that time around. When Steve’s lips found your neck, you involuntarily bucked your hips upward and rubbed yourself against his hardness, which elicited a soft groan from him.

Abruptly, he pulled away. “Wait– Shit– Sorry.”

He rolled off of you and you turned on your side to look at him with confused eyes; he was staring up at the ceiling. “Why are you sorry?”

“You’re sad right now,” Steve said, still avoiding your eyes. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He was right about the first part, but that didn’t mean that what the two of you were doing was a bad idea. In fact, you thought it was the opposite.

You were lonely, and you were pretty sure he was too. Why couldn’t the two of you help each other feel not alone?

“It’s okay. Seriously. I want this,” You told him as you shifted closer toward him and ran a hand through his hair.

He was looking at you now, searching your eyes for full confirmation that this really was okay. And he didn’t see any uncertainty in your gaze, but he still was hesitant.

“Please,” The word was soft and quiet, but Steve heard you loud and clear, and something inside of him shifted.

Finally, he was kissing you again and not wasting a second to move you back on your back so that he was on top of you as he peppered kisses down your body.

And finally, he was pulling off his shirt and pants and boxers and grabbing a condom, and you were taking off the remainder of your clothes as well.

And finally, he was slowly pushing himself inside of you and groaning at the feeling of you around him, your wet walls taking him in so well and squeezing around his cock so tightly.

You moaned and winced at the feeling as you adjusted to having him inside of you. You had had sex before but Steve was huge, and it felt like it was your first time all over again.

“You okay?” He asked, hand finding your cheek to softly stroke it.

You gave him a small nod and let your eyes slip shut as you shifted your hips a little. “Mhm. You can move now.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips as a way to say “okay” and then slowly began moving, pulling out just a little bit and then pushing right back into you.

You moaned uncontrollably as your chest swelled and your body was overcome with an insane amount of emotions; and all of them were surprisingly good emotions, which you hadn’t been used to anymore. You had felt so empty for so long that you didn’t expect to ever feel anything again.

But, now here you were with Steve.

You opened your eyes and immediately met his dark gaze. You didn’t shy away from his stare. Instead, you liked looking at him and seeing how equally enamored he was with you in that moment because of what the two of you were doing.

His hair was falling into his eyes with every thrust, so you reached up to run your hands through it, and you loved the loud groan he elicited when you gave his dark locks a soft pull. He began pounding into you with much more vigor.

“Fuck, Steve. Yes.”

“You’re so good, doing so well for me,” He said as his hand snaked down between your bodies to begin rubbing tight circles against your clit.

You cried out his name loudly and arched your back at the feeling of his fingers against the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“You’re so close, aren’t you? I can feel you squeezing around me so tight, fuck,” Steve groaned, movements getting harsher and sloppier with each thrust. “You wanna come?”

You nodded immediately and frantically. “M’so close, yes. Please, please make me come.”

His fingers rubbed your clit harder and faster, which was enough to make you see stars and send you over the edge. His lips messily found yours, swallowing your moans as he continued fucking you through your orgasm and found his own release only moments later.

Your breaths were still coming out in soft pants and you could feel Steve softening inside of you. “Fuck, that was really great.”

“Yeah,” He agreed with a nod and smile as he slipped out of you and moved to his side, still looking at you. You turned your head to meet his eyes.

Things became comfortably quiet as the two of you simply stared at each other and you could finally feel your eyelids actually getting heavy. But, you didn’t want to fall asleep there.

“Can you take me home?” You asked, breaking eye contact and sitting up in the bed.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Minutes later, you were back in the clothes you’d shown up in and then you were back in Steve’s passenger seat.

And right when your head hit your own pillow, you were asleep and didn’t wake up for a solid eight hours. Which was much different from the usual six, sometimes even five, hours you had become used to getting.

You didn’t think that you’d have sex with Steve again.

Yes, it was absolutely mind-blowing and you’d love for it to happen again because of how good it made you feel; probably the most “good” you’d felt in a while. But, in your head, it was a fluke. You didn’t regret it, but you just didn’t think the circumstances would align for it to happen again.

However, when the next night rolled around, you found yourself creating your own circumstances and calling him, and he didn’t hesitate to tell you to come over.

Now

“You miss him?”

You almost made some joking comment about how Steve was still inside of you and he somehow decided that right then was the time to shift the conversation to your best friend, but you refrained from doing so.

Steve was always so much softer than you were after sex, and he had always wanted to make sure you knew that he was there for you if you wanted more than just sex.

You had wanted to show him that you would do the same for him too; let him talk about Nancy and everything he was feeling from that situation. But, it was too hard.

Because more than anything, you wanted this to be as mindless as possible.

After a few weeks, he decided to stop trying to start a conversation with you after because of how little you reciprocated. However, apparently, this time was different though.

And it was also different for you too because you actually found yourself wanting to talk back.

“All the time,” You finally answered as you shifted off of him and let your head find his pillow as you grabbed the thin sheet to pull it over you a bit. “Pretty much all hours of the day.”

You didn’t say that the only time you didn’t miss Eddie, that the only time things actually felt the tiniest bit bearable, was when you were here with Steve. Because you hadn’t realized that until right then, and the thought slightly startled you.

You turned on your side and faced him. “You miss her?”

He turned too and his hand found your hip underneath the sheet and mindlessly started tracing small circles on the bare skin. “Who?”

You gave him a look because you knew that he knew exactly who you were referring to.

His eyes shut for a second and you could tell that he was thinking about what to say. “Sometimes, I guess.”

You glanced down at the scar he had on his abdomen from where he was attacked by the demo-bats and slowly let your fingers trace against it. “You could always just tell her, y’know? Tell her that you love her.”

“Did you ever tell him?” His voice was quiet.

Your eyes flickered back up to his. “Tell him what?”

“That you love him.”

His words slightly confused you but you nodded your head. “Of course, probably every day. But, that’s different.”

“How?” Steve asked, genuinely curious, and you thought it was slightly funny because in your head the answer to his one-worded question was obvious.

“I didn’t love him how you love her.”

“What?” The confusion was evident in his tone.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

He shifted and sat up in the bed, the sheet sinking down and barely covering his hips. You almost followed suit and sat up too, but you were too tired to do so, so you just looked up at him and started becoming confused because of how confused he seemed.

“You and Eddie… You two– You guys were together, right?” He asked, eyes finding yours.

“Ew, no,” You said and laughed a bit. “Eddie is like–” You sighed at your mistake. “Was like… a brother to me.”

“But…” Steve trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to say because there was a lot circling his mind right then.

“What made you think that we were dating?”

“You guys were so close. It just– It made a lot of sense,” He answered, and you understood what he meant. You and Eddie were insanely close, but not in that way. Never in that way. Simply the thought of him being anything more than your closest friend felt slightly incestual to you. “And when I saw you that night, after everything, you were crying at lover’s lake.”

“I was not crying,” You said with a small scoff. Although you did remember that you had been close to it that night. “And I hadn’t necessarily gone there on purpose, I was just walking around to make myself tired so that I could sleep, and I ended up there.”

“Wow,” He said, letting out a small breath as he leaned back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

You almost laughed at how surprised he was at your words. “I can’t believe how big of a revelation this is for you.”

He turned toward you again. “It’s just– Wow.”

“Okay, now that that is cleared up, I guess, back to you and your situation. You should just tell–”

Before you could finish your statement, Steve abruptly pressed his lips against yours.

The two of you never kissed outside of sex, only during it and as a prelude to it. Never after, though.

So, that surprised you. Even though you kissed him back almost immediately because of how many times you’d kissed him before, you were still in shock because this was probably the most chaste and sweetest kiss he had ever given you. But, it still felt so familiar.

When he pulled away, you should’ve asked something along the lines of “what was that for?” or “why did you do that?”. But, instead, your mind trailed back to something Steve had said earlier.

“I could never tell you to fuck off.”

And that statement made you ask a question that might have sounded so random, but it felt like it was connected to what he had just done.

“Earlier, why did you say that you could never tell me to fuck off?”

Steve’s hand softly stroked your cheek and he was completely unfazed by your question. “Because I like you too much.”

“But, Nancy–”

He shook his head before you could finish. “She’s with Jonathan and she’s happy. They’re meant to be. I’ve accepted that.”

“But…” It was your turn to trail off because you didn’t know what to say. All you could do was simply stare at him and take notice of how tenderly he was looking at you in that moment.

“This whole time I felt like a horrible person because I was falling for you while I thought you were grieving your boyfriend. I can’t believe how wrong I was,” He said with a small sigh.

Your mind was effectively blank and there was nothing you could even think of saying to Steve right then. There was way too much to process in such a short amount of time.

You felt like you were in the same “misunderstanding boat” as him. Because in your mind he had still been in love with Nancy. Therefore, why would you allow yourself to like him? You would’ve just ended up getting hurt and losing him, and he was the only thing in your life that made you feel somewhat better about Eddie.

You were then reminded of your earlier realization, and how good it felt being with Steve on sleepless nights like these.

“I thought you loved Nancy,” You finally said.

“And I thought you and Eddie had been together.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “We should talk more. Our communication is pretty shitty.”

His arm circled your waist as he laughed too and pulled you close to him. You let your head settle on his chest and your eyes slip shut.

It was quiet for a few moments before you decided to finally let yourself be completely honest with him. “I think I like you too much too. Like, too much. It’s so much harder to go to sleep when I’m not here with you. And you make things feel a lot better. Everything that happened… It doesn’t hurt as much when I’m with you. Somehow it all actually feels okay.”

Your voice was soft and it could’ve been easy for Steve not to hear you, but he did. Instead of immediately responding, he simply held you tighter and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You could’ve sworn if your eyes weren’t closed you’d be crying from the action.

“Don’t leave tonight, okay?”

His request didn’t fully surprise you, but at the same time, it did. Mainly because it was something that neither of you ever really talked about or acknowledged.

Sometimes, actually a lot of the times, you would end up falling asleep in Steve’s bed with his arms around you, but you’d always be gone before the morning came because you knew that everything would feel too “real” if your moments with Steve lived beyond the nighttime. And he never called you out on abruptly leaving or ever tried to convince you to stay.

Of course, now, you didn’t care about what it would mean if you stayed with him as the night slowly faded away. And in fact, you found yourself aching for mornings with him and days spent together doing nothing or driving aimlessly around town in addition to the amazing nights you’d have together.

You smiled softly into the darkness as you nuzzled yourself impossibly closer to him and finally responded. “Okay.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #joe keery imagine #joe keery smut

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wen-kexing-apologist · 1 year

Text

Validation- In Which Lurking Turtles Try to Spare Me From Writing a Post by Essentially Plucking My Thoughts Right Out of My Head.

In her incredible post about community, @waitmyturtles posed (and answered) the question:

“Could the ATOTS story have held up WITHOUT Pat and Pran?”

I argue, no, because looking back on the last four episodes, the resolution of that four part story was never supposed to be about Pat and Pran, it was supposed to be about Phupa and Tian. In my opinion, the last four Our Skyy 2 episodes are made for Phupa and Tian.

Hell, it’s not even about Tian to me, this whole story is an arc for Phupa specifically.

I argue, Pat and Pran serve as the vessel by which Phupa is forced to confront his internalized homophobia and must decide whether or not to try to move past it.

This is a bold statement, so let me say right now that I watched ATOTS and Bad Buddy around the same time, and while I deeply enjoyed ATOTS I loved Bad Buddy and initially I found Phupa and Tian to be a rather boring, uncomplicated couple that obviously liked each other and refused to do anything about it, despite me not really seeing any obstacles for them getting together.

But because of now being familiar with Earth’s acting and because of Episode 3, I started to pay more attention to Phupa, made that internalized homophobia observation, and then managed, over the course of the four hours it took me to write that post to go from “You’re boring” to “lmao that’s my fucking guy” in regards to how I looked at Phupa.

And, not to toot my own horn, but I am feeling extremely validated in my read on Phupa and internalized homophobia in yesterday’s post after seeing the final episode of Our Skyy 2 x ATOTS.

@lurkingshan has already shared a lot of her thoughts (which honestly reflect a lot of my own) in regards to how Phupa has learned a lot from his interactions with Pat. @waitmyturtles has shared a lot of her thoughts (which honestly reflect a lot of my own) about how Aof’s stories so often center around queer Asian community. And tumblr has shared in abundance all the happy, lovey-dovey, moments between Pat and Pran and Phupa and Tian.

So I am not going to start there. I am going to start with the supporting evidence of Phupa’s internalized homophobia from Our Skyy 2’s final episode.

The first, when Phupa and Tian are getting dessert and Tian tries to feed him. He looks around anxiously and reminds Tian that they are in public.

Gifs from @ayan-sukkhapisit

Second, when Phupa and Tian are clothes shopping and Tian leans in to Phupa and says suggestively “You’re so handsome. You got a boyfriend?”

Even when Tian mentions the size of the crowd at the play, Phupa once again looks around anxiously, the weight of the realization that this many people are about to hear the story of his queerness hitting him.

Each of these moments is a point where Phupa’s internalized homophobia is flaring up, but, (and this is crucial) HE PUSHES THROUGH IT.

And that is thanks to Pat and Pran, but especially Pat.

Now (and hear me out here) Pran is fully responsible for getting Phupa to sign the consent form to put on the play. Pran’s moment of brutal honesty where he called out Phupa’s insecurities and confirmed they were also his own, is what led Phupa to realize that these chaotic, loud, and meddling children had a lot more going on than he first thought, and is what led to him confidently making the statement “No one gets us better than these two.”

Pran’s acknowledgement of his own insecurities in his relationship with Pat is enough for Phupa to understand that Pran is desperate to tell this story, his story for a reason.

But Pat? Pat’s continuous, unabashed, unrelenting, and obvious love for his boyfriend and then his continuous, unabashed, unrelenting, and obvious crush on/harassment of Phupa pushes Phupa out of his comfort zone. Pat and Tian may be the people who make the sacrifices in their relationships, but Pat is not Tian. Pat is willing to make sacrifices for Pran, Pat is willing to hide his queer desire for Pran. But Phupa is not Pran. So Phupa is Not Safe. Where Tian is patient and where Tian also tries to minimize/tone down his own feelings when he and Phupa are together in public, Pat sees Phupa, goes “oh that man is hot and repressed and I’m about to make myself his problem,” and then he puts his foot on the gas and does donuts in the parking lot.

At no point in their solo time together does Pat ever let up on Phupa. Thus, Phupa is forced to reconcile with his internalized homophobia, because he is both safe to do so by being in the woods without the rest of the village, and because Pat never stops reminding him that he is queer. Phupa sees how much Pat loves Pran and sees the way Pat and Pran interact with each other, touching knees, running in to each other’s arms, feeding each other, etc. and hears the insecurities Pran has in his relationship with Pat, and how much they mirror his own, and he realizes that he can feel insecure and still have a happy, loving relationship because he has spent hours upon hours of time listening to Pat brag about his boyfriend. The surface fight of who fell in love first is resolved by way of Phupa understanding that Tian can make all these sacrifices and still be madly in love with him. Phupa needed Tian to have fallen in love first so that he can be certain that he didn’t trap Tian here. Tian needed Phupa to have fallen in love first so that he can have security in a relationship where Phupa cannot overcome his insecurities (class, queerness, etc.) to be openly in love with Tian around others.

SO!

The resolution comes when Phupa decides that it is time for him to stop hiding

Gif from @gunsatthaphan

He pushes past his initial discomfort about the level of open affection he is receiving, but eventually relents to Pat’s flirtations and gives him a smile. It is as good as an admission for Pat that Phupa will, in fact, miss him and did, in fact, enjoy their time together.

He openly admires his Tian at the waterfall, he asks to be played with.

He corrects the narrative, and finally does what we all thought he would do, and “steals” the kiss he wanted to steal all those years ago

Gif by @liyazaki

He fucks his boyfriend

Gif by @liyazaki

He woos his boyfriend by rolling up to Bangkok in a car that is almost certainly out of his price range looking hot as hell.

He takes photos of Tian “the food”

Gif from @boyslovesource

And where we saw a momentary flare up of his internalized homophobia in the cafe, because that mentality is not something that is broken in a night, he powers through and allows himself to be fed.

And at the clothing store too, he initially bristles at Tian’s flirtation but very quickly reciprocates it

He signs the contract. He actively and intentionally allows Pran and Pat to tell his story, to celebrate his queerness.

And he comes to see the play. To see the story of he and Tian’s love. The story that until only recently he refused to even finish. And while Tian is surprised that Pat and Pran are playing them, Phupa is not. Partially because he put the stipulations on it, but also because Pat and Pran have chosen to portray the unexpected, but absolutely personality accurate character. Pat is an unexpected Tian if you go off of looks, but Pat serves the role that Tian does in his relationship and therefore is absolutely the perfect choice to play Tian.

(Honestly, thinking about it more, that choice may have also contributed to Phupa’s comment that no one gets them better than those two. Because he sees them acknowledge their own roles in their own relationship based on who they chose to portray.)

Now, something that I also picked up on, but that @chickenstrangers mentions as well is the following:

“We got to see Phupha and Tian's reactions to the play highlighted, seeing that they appreciated the portrayal. We also saw Ink and Pa's reactions, how moved they were by the play and Pat and Pran being able to portray it; how the story was received by other queer people. These special episodes are exploring the tension between needing to hide and wanting to be seen and open, and in the play, both Phupha and Tian, and Pat and Pran got to open a little bit about themselves to others. Even though it is Tian and Phupha's story on stage, Pat and Pran are telling their own as well.”

And it struck me, as I was going back through the episode to pull screen shots that Ink and Pa also watch the mosquito net scene and ask “why does he have to poke his face so close to him?”

Which indicates to me that Ink and Pa are also expecting a kiss from Phupa and Tian and, not getting one, they wonder why he’s gonna get this close only to not do anything.

Which strikes me as yet another example of the young queer couple not understanding where intimacy can be a struggle for older queers.

Secondarily, Phupa requesting that Pat and Pran portray Phupa and Tian does, in fact, set them up to be openly in love and to have plausible deniability. Phupa doesn’t know that they are going to kiss, and in fact, they were not supposed to. But they do. They get to be open they way the want to be open, the way they wish they could be open. And they get to do it by being vessels for Phupa and Tian’s story.

I actually don’t have much to say here in terms of analysis, but dammit if I’m not emo about the Circle of Queers. Look at all them, standing around, being in community with one another. Happy Pride everyone!

AND THEN PHUPA COMES TO FUCKING DINNER!!!!

He lets Tian spend money on him, he finally does the one thing Tian has hoped for all these years, and celebrates his birthday. Comes as his partner, interacts with Tian’s parents.

And is rewarded for it by learning that he had nothing to fear. Tian’s parents are impressed with Phupa’s dedication, the filial nature of his service, the choice he made to move to PPD because his father loved it.

And far more important, Tian’s parents entrust Tian into Phupa’s care.

And, if you want to get in to outdated concepts of queerness, masculinity, husband/wife whatever, then it is also important to acknowledge that Phupa ends the episode getting fucked by his fiance

Gif from @gunsatthaphan

And he engages in sex with his partner while his coworker and friend is right outside the door, fully aware of what they are doing. Now, we know from ATOTS that this is not the first time that Yod has heard them having sex. But crucially, in ATOTS, Phupa was not aware that Yod was outside the door.

Now, I know what you are thinking, readers “W-K-A, why did you skip over the most important part of Phupa’s self acceptance journey?”

IT’S BECAUSE I’M SAVING THE BEST FOR LAST OKAY??????? Hush.

The culminating event of this episode, and of the entire four episode arc, is Phupa’s proposal to Tian.

Gifs by @liyazaki

Tian’s part of the fight came from fearing that Phupa wasn’t going to fully committed to him. The constant refusal to go to his birthday, one of the few times a year that Tian sees the rest of his family, serves to make Tian feel like Phupa doesn’t consider himself to be Tian’s family.

Now, back to my argument that this ATOTS story couldn’t have happened without Pat and Pran is that I am not entirely certain that Phupa and Tian were completely aware of what the underlying problem was. And if they were, they certainly weren’t going to talk about it. Tian may still have trudged up the mountain to find Torfun’s diary, and he might still have gotten lost, and Phupa might still have had to rescue him, but Phupa needed to see how a relationship dynamic like his was capable of working.

Back to Phupa’s internalized homophobia, putting a ring on Tian’s finger is both a confirmation to Tian that Phupa is fully and completely committed to him but also a PHYSICAL. VISUAL. INDICATOR OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP.

There is no benefit of the doubt, there is no plausible deniability. No matter where Phupa and Tian go, if they go together the world will know they are a couple. Phupa cannot hide from his queerness walking next to Tian with that ring on Tian’s finger.

Gif from @thebvbbletea

I know there are many people that wanted more of a stout resolution for Pat and Pran in these episodes. But that wasn’t the point Aof was making. Pat and Pran’s storyline in these episodes feels unresolved because Pat and Pran’s resolution doesn’t come until Episode 12. I understand that these analysis may have gotten me too focused on Phupa, but I don’t know. I can’t shake the feeling that this four part crossover was about Phupa. Pat doesn’t change much, Pran doesn’t change much, because we watched Bad Buddy. Because we have already seen the changes they have made to be with each other. Because there is never going to be balance in Pat and Pran’s relationship as long as Dissaya remains the way she currently is. (I’m taking this from a conversation I had with @shortpplfedup, @bengyio, @waitmyturtles, @lurkingshan, and @ginnymoonbeam). Tian doesn’t change much because he was always the one compromising, because he is committed to Phupa. It is Phupa who goes through the most significant changes.

It is Phupa who had to get comfortable with their relationship being on display in the form of diaries

It is Phupa who had to get comfortable with those diaries showing him being in love with Tian.

It is Phupa who has to get comfortable with Pat’s explicit queerness.

It is Phupa who had to get comfortable with public displays of affection.

PPD is a village removed from most things, there is a vibrant and loving community there. But it means they are removed from overarching society. Phupa needs to see the younger generation of queers being comfortable and confident in their sexuality. Phupa needs to see the younger generation being comfortable and confident in their love. Phupa needs to see that the younger generation isn’t worried about people knowing they are queer, he needs to see them be explicit in their love for each other. No code words, no euphemisms, just a boy and his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s scent. And I think that in order for Phupa to resolve his internalized homophobia, he needed to meet Pat and Pran. I think interacting with Pran made him view Pat and Pran’s relationship as an adult one, granting it infinitely more respect and credibility in his eyes, and interacting with Pat made him realize that it is much safer now to be gay that it once was.

Anyway, I’m going to go cry about “We finally have a thousand stars now” for the rest of forever now, thank you.

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amateurvoltaire · 5 days

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In one of your last posts you mentioned you were studying the civil war in Vandée. Have you ever seen the rather new movie "Vaincre ou Mourir" on the topic? If yes, what do you think of it? I was very curious to give it a try, hoping it's not the usual demonisation of the revolutionary government. Not that I expect it to be portrayed positively in a movie focused on the Vendéean insurgents pov, of course...

Thanks a lot for your question! It’s the first one I've ever received, and I’m really excited to dive into it. (I might have gone a bit overboard, so grab a coffee or a drink before you tackle this beast… TLDR at the bottom…)

I watched "Vaincre ou Mourir" a couple of months ago. Before I dive into my thoughts, the man himself would like a word:

All jokes aside, have you ever been to one of those medieval theme parks where they offer a "realistic" medieval show with dinner? As a kid, every summer, my parents took me to a jousting show at an Italian theme park. We'd watch two knights fight each other for an hour while being “medieval” and munching on chicken legs without any cutlery.

That's pretty much how I felt watching this movie: it’s flashy and fun but doesn’t have much going on underneath. It makes more sense when you discover that the film was funded by Puy le Feu, a large historical theme park in Vendée.

The context

And this is the thing: despite the Canal+ distribution, most of the production is local. The Vendée itself is often defined as a memory space (1), which can lead to a community feeling a special connection to their past. This is often reflected in local traditions, commemorations, and even political leanings. I remember watching an interview from the bicentenary where some locals said they don’t celebrate the 14th of July as a matter of principle—200 years later!

It’s also worth noting that the Vendée has a history of conservative and right-leaning political preferences, and Canal+ is also a right-leaning media outlet.

The Experts

Is it a documentary? Is it a fictional film? It's hard to say in the first few minutes.

The movie attempts to project historical accuracy by introducing four experts right at the start. If a film opens with such a direct appeal to authority, I tend to scrutinise who these experts are. So, who are they?

Reynald Secher: a historian who has been a massive proponent of the Vandean genocide theory. He is very anti-Republican, and his research methodologies are rather sketchy…

Nicolas Delahaye: I don’t know much about him, but I see he publishes primarily regionally in a Vendean publishing house. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s particularly biased, but it does mean his audience is very limited to people with specific views.

Anne Rolland-Boulestreau: a historian at the Université Catholique de l’Ouest specialising in the Vendée counter-revolution. Her articles in the Annales Historiques de la Révolution Française seem unbiased and well-researched. I own one of her books but haven't read it yet, so I can't speak to her longer-form content.

Armand Bernand: if you google de la Rochejaquelein, you will find this guy everywhere. He owns a publishing house, loves the Château de la Durbelière (2), and wrote a series of books set there. He clearly has a historical crush on M. Henri. I think he cosplayed him during some re-enactments and wrote a book about Henri’s brother Auguste.

It’s worth mentioning they either hail from Vendée or work exclusively within the region. This is my bias speaking because I’ve pretty much read all his work, but if you make a movie about the Vendee and can’t get Jean-Clément Martin to say something on camera about it, you should probably not feature any experts…

The Story

After an awkward three minutes of experts telling us how important the revolution was and introducing Charette, we get to the actual movie, which opens with a pile of bodies, burnings, a hanged person, and an awkward first-person voiceover of Charette saying that they made the Vendee into an inferno. This will be a theme for the next hour or so.

If I were to describe this film in two words, "tragedy porn" would fit. What occurred in Vendée was horrific, and its rightly violent portrayal should help viewers understand and appreciate the human and historical impact. However, the film often prioritises shock value over explaining the underlying reasons.

Charette is, by all accounts, a very compelling subject. The guy was a libertine with bucket-loads of courage and style who had a woman as an aide de camp in 1793! Despite spending 1.5 hours with him, narrated from his perspective, I would be hard-pressed to tell you what he’s actually fighting for. Is it honour? Is it revenge? Is it stubbornness? Your guess is as good as mine!

There is absolutely no character growth whatsoever. The film presents as a sequence of battles and shocking scenes narrated by a somewhat detached Charette. Remember what I said about the medieval show? This shock-value approach might work for a short performance during dinner but falls flat when stretched across an entire film.

Despite the weak script, the actors are quite good. Nothing Oscar-worthy, but they can act. The guy that plays Charette does a very good job and is quite charismatic.

The Historical Accuracy

On the whole, I can’t see glaring historical errors. It is fairly historically accurate with some minor issues. This is obviously not an exhaustive list, but there are things I noticed and jotted down:

The main one is the bizarre theory that Charette agreed to the peace of 1795 because he was promised that Louis XVII would be handed to him. This has absolutely no credible historical basis whatsoever. It’s a myth that has been propagated for over 200 years.

I’m pretty sure Charette didn’t sign the treaty of La Jaunaye. In fact, as far as I remember, no one from the insurgent side signed it.

While not a historical inaccuracy per se, it's a missed opportunity that the film often portrays Charette as the sole leader of the Vendean army. Though he mentions being one chief among many, this aspect is quickly glossed over. His historical relationship with the Catholic and Royal Army and its leaders was complex and would have been interesting to explore further. It's a shame the film likely didn't have the budget to delve into this, as it could have also demonstrated that Vendée wasn't a monolith.

The depiction of the republican army as well-equipped is somewhat exaggerated. If they were as well-appointed as shown, Carnot and Prieur (Cote D’or) would be out of a job, and Saint-Just wouldn't have needed to requisition shoes for the army.

Lastly, the film underexplains the context of why the counter-revolution started. In my opinion, it manipulatively emphasises the king's execution more than warranted, suggesting it triggered the popular uprising when it really did not. The conflict in Vendée began as a peasant revolt, where the local population was far more concerned with religious issues than royal politics. Most Vendean peasants likely couldn't name the king—they probably knew he was a Louis since there had been a Louis on the throne for 200 years, but that's about it. Their concerns were local: when parish priests who had taken the civic oath replaced their traditional priests, and the Levée en masse was decreed, forcing them to fight random Germans 600 km away for a regime threatening their way of life, they rebelled.

Is the movie anti-Republican propaganda?

To wrap up, is the film anti-Republican? Frankly, I don’t believe it is overtly so. It adopts a somewhat clichéd stance: the revolution's ideals were noble, but things eventually went too far. While I have plenty of thoughts on this—which I'll keep to myself for now—I wouldn’t say this perspective is inherently anti-Republican.

Charette is depicted as initially supportive of the revolution, which is accurate for many aristocrats, especially the minor nobility. The portrayal of Republican soldiers is balanced, with General Jean-Pierre Travot sometimes appearing more honourable than Charette. As the main character, Charette is shown as lazy, indecisive, and sometimes brutal, so the film does not attempt to heroise him. The princes, especially Artois, are also depicted negatively. So, the film isn’t overtly royalist.

Is there a specific stance against the Government (aka the CSP)? I don’t recall them being mentioned, which, again, is accurate since most Vendeeans, including the nobility, were not deeply involved in Parisian politics.

That being said, Carrier and Turreau are portrayed very negatively, and rightfully so. Republican generals are also shown as less likely to spare the "brigands" when captured, which aligns with historical accounts. The movie leans heavily on shock value, featuring hard-to-watch scenes of executions, guillotines, and drownings. Unfortunately, even the staunchest republican historians would be hard-pressed to find the evidence to call those scenes revisionists.

Beyond that, the only thing that stood out to me about the Republicans is that they made Kleber look about 60 years old.

In conclusion, is this the most accurate film ever? Certainly not. Is it counter-revolutionary propaganda? I genuinely don’t think so, and if someone claims otherwise, they’re likely being disingenuous.

TLDR:

Watched the movie "Vaincre ou Mourir," which felt like a medieval theme park show—entertaining but lacking depth, probably due to its funding by an actual historical theme park. Despite its attempt to appear historically accurate with expert interviews, the film fails to deeply explore its characters or the complexities of the Vendée region's history. While it doesn't contain major historical inaccuracies, it oversimplifies the causes and events of the Vendée uprising, focusing more on visual shock than factual explanation. Not outright anti-Republican or counter-revolutionary, but doesn't offer new insights into anything. Overall, flashy but not as informative as it could be.

Notes

A memory space is defined as a location (physical or otherwise) where memories, histories, and narratives are preserved, shared, and understood within a society or culture. Things like museums, monuments, rituals, stories and in this case a region can be memory spaces

Château de la Durbelière was the home of La Rochejaquelein

PS: Thank you again for your question! I had a lot of fun answering it.

#frev #french revolution #vendee war #vendee #charette #amateurvoltaire's essay ramblings #vaincre ou mourir #review

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sunriseverse · 3 months

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What are you uh...what are you salty about? (I'm nosy as hell, give me the tea)

okay SO. disclaimer before i start: if anyone seeing this likes the youtuber mentioned, understand i am not calling her a bad person; i have some very specific umbrage with her, and i will detail why. you don't have to agree with me, but if you, in any way, inform this youtuber of this post and what i'm saying, you will be blocked, because this is meant to be on my personal blog only and a severe violation of my boundaries to tell her about this.

let's begin, shall we? (below the cut, since this got a bit long; my apologies.)

for context, since i started watching zmyx, i have been periodically checking youtube for amvs of the show so i can add them to my playlist. while doing so, i stumbled across this video by AvenueX. i had watched a video by her previously on the show under the skin, and mostly enjoyed it. i love hearing people react to batshit cdrama, well, drama, and "this show was up for bare hours before being taken down" definitely counts as something i like hearing reactions to.

i cannot directly upload the clip into this post, but i'll put the subtitles in for the relevant section, which begins at the 12:25 mark and ends at 14:59.

AX: Basically, there is a BL drama that was made quite a few years ago and hasn't come out like all the BL dramas, Zhiming Youxi. It's based on a novel called Wanghuatong [sic] and is a clear BL drama. The platform was iQiyi, and they cast Huang Junjie and Xia Zhiguang. These two guys have been multiple other stuff ever since then, and if you watch a lot of Chinese dramas, you probably have an impression of who they are. Neither of them are considered to be good actors, very young, and not really coming from professional sort of trained actor background[...]I'm not so interested in the story to start with and not interested in these two actors either, because BL dramas is hard to do well; you have to be good actors to pull it off, and you actually have to know what type of acting you need to be doing. You're not actually playing realistic gay people, you're playing imagined version of [here she makes a sound i can only transcribe as the auditory equivalent of tilting your hand back and forth], that whole complicated psychological thing on the back end, and if you're not clever and experienced enough actor you actually easily make a mess. Based on the leaked out footage I see on the internet, it's embarrassing, in terms of the acting, and they stole the most important line from Word of Honor, which is 'there's light on you and I want to grab it and take a look'. Every BL drama has a classic line[...]and this drama shamelessly took a completely, and that part of the video is online. I've watched it, and I'm like, 'oh my god, oh my god, just because you're another BL doesn't qualify you for stealing literally the line from another BL drama[...]just because of that I'm like, oh, okay, now I can make fun with other people together on this drama being living [sic] on the internet for like, what, three-four hours[...]it's a good thing this drama is buried now, and please don't show up again. I don't want to see it. It's embarrassing, it's embarrassing, okay.

bolding mine; these are the portions i have umbrage with.

let's go through the points she makes, shall we?

this show is "embarrassing", in terms of acting; presumably, this is connected to the earlier line about the actors not being known as "good actors", and not having professional acting backgrounds.

it stole a line from shl.

she thinks this drama deserves to be made fun of for "being embarrassing" because, presumably, the actors don't play bl roles the way she thinks they should, and "make a mess of it".

i must reiterate: she can have these opinions. these are opinions she is entitled to. i disagree with them, but i respect her right to have them. however, because i also have the right to my own opinion, i am allowed to be pissed about these opinions she has.

i will go through a point by point breakdown of my responses and thoughts on each point.

i think it's really stupid to judge an actor based simply on them having a professional background or not. when it comes down to it, the most important thing for actors, especially co-leads, in a show, is their ability to do their job and create believable dynamics with their co-actors. in my opinion, xia zhiguang and huang junjie do this very well in zmyx. their dynamic feels natural and realistic to me, and, more importantly than that, it compels me. i don't say this as a "fan" of either actor; it was a nice bonus to me that hjj had also played another character i like, but even if he hadn't, i would be judging this performance as lin qiushi based on its own merits. i have never seen xzg in anything, and again, i am judging his acting in this show on its own merits. also, i should add there's something hilarious about her holding up shl as a "good" bl, when you could argue that those leads aren't "good" actors, either. i mean, look at advancing bravely! or, maybe, i don't know, it's possible for actors to improve over time and do better in certain projects than others? and someone doesn't have to be the "best" in all areas of their field, just the right choice for the role they're playing??

this is just stupid, in my opinion. the line is not stolen; it is altered and becomes its own line in zmyx. in shl, the line is, as she says, "there's light on you and i want to grab it and take a look". in zmyx, the line is "there's a light on you that i don't see on others". this is, at most, a reference—and zmyx isn't the only bl that references other media! this is a silly, petty argument, in my opinion, and frankly annoying as hell. if it were a crime to reference any other media in the same genre as the media doing the referencing, we'd miss out on so much. to me, this reference doesn't read as an appropriation, but as a nod of appreciation to another bl which was heavily censored. also, if her claims are anything to go by, and zmyx did film "years ago", it's possible that, actually, zmyx used the line before shl did. even if that isn't the case, who fucking cares? genuinely, i think this is a stupid point and i hate it.

she thinks the actors made a mess of the show by not playing the roles in the specific way bl roles are "meant" to be played. we could spend years arguing about the "right" way to play a bl role, but to me, it sounds like she has a very specific idea of the roles bl actors must fit into and fulfil—specifically, that they must play an exaggerated, unrealistic mimicry of gay male relationships, or else it's a "bad" bl. i don't know AvenueX's sexuality, but as a person of the homosexual persuasion myself, if not one attracted to men, i personally don't like exaggerated mimicries of gay relationships, and i would wager a guess that many gay and bisexual men are probably in this same boat. when i watch a bl show, i prefer that the dynamics are driven not by the idea of what gay people should act like, but by 1. the plot, 2. their own characterisations and character motives, and 3. their relationships and dynamics with each other. in this regard, while zmyx isn't a "good bl", i think it's a good depiction of the relationship between two characters. i don't say this to be holier-than-thou, or to claim i'm somehow "better" than other people who do like specific exaggerated tropes in bl; i say this because i feel like AvenueX entirely disregards the possibility that the thing that she doesn't like about zmyx are things that other people will.

(additionally, while she never says this, i get the impression that one of the things she doesn't like is that the chemistry between the characters isn't the "typical" bl chemistry. i, frankly, don't give a fuck. i think the leads have fantastic chemistry, and it annoys me that she thinks they "made a mess" just because they don't fit the idea she has for what a bl "should" look like. i, for one, think it's a good thing that we're moving away from caricatured depictions of gay people in media, especially danmei and dangai. myself and other asian gay people, especially east asian gay people, have pointed out how harmful caricatured versions of gay asian characters are.)

(also, as an unrelated, and petty aside, if i remember correctly, she's a british film school grad, and not to be judgemental, but, yeah, i can fucking see it.)

so, yeah. that's my two fen and indignance on this. but, hey, what do i know, i'm just some random tumblr user ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#sorry this took me an entire goddamn hour to write #unfortunately i kept having to reword things to be less irritated #because while i may be pissed i do NOT want to take potshots at someone for stupid things irrelevant to her actual words #ask #i could go into a whole ramble about lgbt representation and depiction in danmei and dangai and how in my opinion it's #advanced in leaps and bounds even just in the past five years #(you can see a similar thing in yao in and thai bl)#but i will not do that because it's not relevant to this specific conversation #关于门神跟人谈恋爱的那件事 #c.txt

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emmedoesntdomath · 11 months

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guess who found it in her to make a delanceys part three

HAHA

I WAS GOING THROUGH OLD NOTES I MADE ABOUT RESEARCHING OLD FAMILIES OF THE UNITED STATES AND WE’RE BACK ON OUR HISTORY RANTS BABEYYYYYYY

so! I’ve seen a couple posts giving ideas and headcanons about the delanceys’ backgrounds and ethnicities, and I myself have made TWO separate posts about their background, specifically relating to their father, familial income, and status in comparison to the newsies, but I’ve never explored their ethnicities/actual family history beyond immediate (partially because I had no historical basis, partially because I didn’t care). BUT. BUT. TODAY IS THE DAY THAT WE WADE INTO THESE WATERS, ARMED WITH NOTHING BUT OLD EMME NOTES, NEW INFORMATION FOUND ABOUT AN HOUR AGO, AND SHEER AUDACITY. YOU’RE WELCOME.

to begin this expedition, we must start with a lil’ crash course of american history. or, pre-american history.

fun fact- new york city actually predates the establishing of the united states! it was originally dubbed new amsterdam by the dutch, and was a city created purely for the flourishing economy and selling of goods. run by and for the dutch company, it slowly became a metropolitan hub of commerce with incredible diversity of languages and peoples. the british took control in 1664, renaming it new york, and turning it into an autocratic province. corrupt governors would routinely reward their favorites and give them land and influence. examples of these favorites include the jays (including the future founding father, john jay), the livingstons (who, for my hamilton fans, were related to the schuyler family, and who would one day host an alexander hamilton whilst he served as an aide de camp to washington), and, funnily enough, the de lanceys.

right now you might be thinking, emme. what? their name isn’t even the same. and to that I respond, oh, yes, you’re correct- history has never changed a name through multiple generations EVER. don’t use any other major family as an example. clearly, they don’t count. or, or, emme, these are fictional characters, this was probably coincidental. mayhaps. but. isn’t it a little funny? isn’t it a little interesting that a show based so much in history chose that name? I think so. here’s a little more backstory.

the de lancey family is/was originally from southeast england, and from the very beginning, they were well off. money, land, the works. then, when times got awkward in the good, ol’ land of the queen (ie. religious tensions), the de lanceys peaced out, and migrated to the new world. and, again, you’re probably doubting me, like, emme, you can’t just say they were there when you want them to be there. actually, I can.

we know from censuses that there were de lanceys in the new york area beginning in 1740, with stephen delancey (HA. SEE? THE NAME CHANGED)(look em up, he’s important to this story)- whose descendants would retain his influence.

the lovely little british colony becomes the united states of america in 1776, and the delanceys are proud patriots in the american revolutionary war, producing an american general by the name of oliver delancey, who was the great-nephew of our friend stephen delancey (and cousin to stephen’s kid, the 28th and 30th governor of virginia back when it was just a colony. still think this is a coincidence?). he had a kid also named oliver delancey, and from there, there was another couple generations of US soldiers. and then, after roughly 1800-1825, the delanceys just kind of…disappeared. poof.

now, does this mean the family didn’t exist? no, absolutely not. they just disappeared from that higher class and state of influence. in fact, you can still find large amounts of delancey descendants in north america today.

but to my point, we can say our delanceys disappeared around…1815. that gives us, what, roughly three, four generations before we hit 1899? and if our delanceys are maybe 17-20, then let’s go with three. that still leaves PLENTY of leg room for a father that works the trolleys and two kids who turn to their uncle for grunt work to make an extra buck or two. and- ta da! the history of the delanceys. surprisingly more complex and long that one might anticipate.

(I donate this to @sparkedblaze and @noxexistant specifically xoxo)

#newsies #92sies #uksies #livesies #morris delancey #oscar delancey #the delancey brothers #history facts #honestly if I just became a history blog would y’all support me #manhattan newsies #west endsies #alexander hamilton #hamilton musical #emme’s bad ideas

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wolfawaycamp · 3 hours

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Something with infected Kaitlyn maybe? <33 (best if she stays infected post-game and all counselors survive)

🐼 What if I told y'all this was based on a dream I had where this was more or less the intro to The Quarry 2? It's a sign, I tell ya!

Twelve-forty-two p.m. They were running late. Not good. Kaitlyn stared out at the water from the front steps of the lakehouse. They’d all agreed it was a worthwhile investment considering their…condition, but it was also quite isolated, which made for a long monthly road trip.

Sure, the sun wasn’t supposed to set for another four hours or so, but that didn’t stop Kaitlyn from running through every worst-case scenario in her head while she sat nervously awaiting the arrival of her fellow counselors.

Jacob strolled up and planted himself next to her. “Kait, I know that look. You’re getting antsy again.” She didn’t respond. “Hey, it’s probably just, I don’t know, typical New York traffic. People coming home for the holidays and all that.”

She looked over at her friend. “Yeah. Probably.” It could also be an accident, or maybe another attempted kidnapping, or god forbid one of the Hacketts found—

Thankfully, Kaitlyn didn’t need to finish that thought as she saw the familiar silhouette of Emma’s minivan pop up over the horizon.

“Party time!” Jacob grinned at Kaitlyn.

She rolled her eyes and strode toward the approaching vehicle. “You are probably the only person in the universe who gets consistently excited about exploding into a hairless mutt every month.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She put one hand on her hip and glared at Jacob. “Uh, yeah. Because it’s fucking weird, dude.”

The van slowed to a stop a few feet away from the bickering duo, and it wasn’t long until seven familiar faces popped out, each carrying some sort of backpack or container in their arms.

“What took you so long?” Kaitlyn inquired, scanning the group. She knew her temper would be shorter than normal today, but she still felt she had the right to be a little upset.

While several of the counselors began transporting their luggage into the lakehouse, Abi rounded the van and plopped a large cardboard box down in front of Kaitlyn. “Hey, don’t be too mad at us. We brought some extras along. My idea.” She gestured toward the box.

Kaitlyn raised an eyebrow. “You went on a shopping spree?”

“Not exactly. I had these custom-made and today was the earliest we could pick them up. I’m really sorry it took so long.” Abi opened the box and revealed a brightly colored pile of woven fabric.

Kaitlyn grabbed the top item; it was dark green with a very loud yet charming pattern of fire-engine red bears prancing across it. She instantly recognized what these were supposed to be. “Ugly Christmas sweaters. Cute.”

“Aren’t they?” Emma hopped over. “That one’s Jacob’s. Mine’s the purple one with the stars on it, and yours—”

“Hey, hey, hey! Let’s save the gift-giving for when we’re all prepped for tonight,” Abi interrupted.

Ryan and Dylan had walked out of the house and approached the group, hands loosely linked together. Ryan spoke, looking slightly more on guard than normal, “She’s right. We’ve got an early moon tonight and I’m not sure I want to see what a ravenous Kaitlyn looks like.”

Now that he mentioned it, Kaitlyn’s stomach had been grumbling for the past few minutes. “Speaking of—” She spun around and entered the house, searching specifically for Jacob or Nick; they were tonight’s designated chefs. She found them unloading groceries in the kitchen. “How long’s that all gonna take to cook?”

Nick pressed a few buttons on the oven and turned to Kaitlyn. “It’s not too complicated; the sandwiches need to be assembled and then we’re just waiting on dessert. Hope you like sloppy joes and brownies!”

Kaitlyn tried not to get too excited thinking about it. “Sounds great! I’m gonna go over here now so you don’t have to see me drooling all over myself. Let me know when it’s done!” She wanted to do the rounds before getting too comfortable.

Making her way to the end of the hallway, Kaitlyn pulled a set of keys out of her pocket. She stood in front of the door at the end of the hall for a moment; this was going to be their home for tonight, and things needed to be double- and triple-checked before she and her fellow lycanthropes settled down.

“Everything good?” Dylan’s voice called out from behind her. She would have been annoyed if it was anyone else, but he somehow managed to stay in her good graces during full moons. They’d been in sync with each other, more or less, since that night at Hackett’s Quarry.

Kaitlyn nodded, unlocking the basement door. “Yep. Only need to do a quick basement check and we should be gucci.”

“But are you ready?” he asked.

She met his gaze; he looked anxious, rightfully so. They were about to jam a bunch of bloodthirsty animals into close quarters. Not exactly the holiday vacation they’d pictured. “As ready as I can be. Are you coming with, or…?” She nodded toward the staircase leading into darkness. He shrugged and wordlessly followed her downward.

After they’d confirmed that every inch of their enclosure was working as intended, the two joined the group for dinner, which was followed by a lazy hour of catching up and gossip.

Laura’s watch alarm went off. Four o’clock on the dot. Kaitlyn sat up straight, tensing up as if she was being sentenced for a crime.

“Alright. Time’s up, guys. Let’s get going,” Laura said calmly.

The infected individuals one-by-one filed into the underground cages. Once they were all locked in, they collectively relaxed into their quarters.

“Damn. We never got around to giving out the sweaters,” Emma lamented from the spot next to Kaitlyn.

Kaitlyn gave what was probably an unconvincing smile in response. “We’ll have plenty of time. After.”

Emma grinned back with a similar look of unease, but her words were sincere. “Deal. After.”

Kaitlyn supposed there were worse ways to spend her holiday vacation.

#the quarry #kaitlyn ka #infected kaitlyn #oops haha there goes Cam turning everything into blood pact again #admittedly I didn't include *everything* from my dream in this fic #like I'm pretty sure Nick had a talking capybara or something #okay maybe I should have added that in #next time #ficlet #ask box #cam #🐼

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 25 days

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Report on new directions/future plans in my longterm comedy podcast listening.

Well, I’ve reached the end of the long-term thing that I listened to constantly and nearly exclusively for four months. The Elis James/John Robins XFM/Radio X years, plus a side project of anything else John Robins did at the same time. When I got to the end, I said in a few posts that it felt like it in its last few months it was changing direction a little bit, in a way I didn’t love quite as much, and I knew it the move to the BBC would send it sharply more in that direction (more mature, more professional, among a few other more specific things).

So I wasn’t sure if I would jump right into the BBC episodes, even though I have them all downloaded. Because a while ago I got concerned that they were deleting old episodes, as I’d opened a podcast feed once to find them there and then again later to find the first 24 gone. I’ve since realized those were two different podcast feeds, the official one that for some reason is missing the first 24, and an unofficial one that has them all. But anyway, I became concerned about whether they might disappear, as I always do with any media I like but do not own (in the form of an mp3 or mp4 saved to my hard drive, not just accessing it through some other platform). So I got a very helpful friend who knows about programming scripts to download them all off BBC Sounds and send them to me, and did the same with the XFM/Radio X episodes for good measure, so now even if the podcast feeds take those down for whatever reason I’ll still have them. Not that I expect that to happen but, you know, it does sometimes. Also, cutting out clips is easier if I already have the mp3s and don’t have to keep downloading it every time I want to do that. I am probably a bit overly meticulous with my need to download and save everything I like on the internet, not trusting that it’ll just stay up there. But I’d rather be overly cautious than not cautious enough and lose stuff when it disappears.

I thought I might just move on from the Robins/James stuff after I achieved retro oner status from the Radio X years, but then I went exactly one day without it and immediately found I missed it. It really was perfect for my purposes. I had in on constantly for months during the commutes to and from work, on break or while doing admin at work, and most of the time I was at home. I took a break for a few weeks just before I finished all the episodes, and missed it then. I just got used to it, that many hours of this one type of humour, I decided a day later that I couldn’t just leave it there after all, and I would at least start the BBC ones.

And then. Okay. This is fine. This is objectively fine. It upset me for entirely subjective and pointless reasons. But. Okay. Some time ago – maybe six weeks, I’m not sure and I don’t want to look it up and check – I posted an old video I found on YouTube featuring John Robins. It was a nice video but also clearly from a long time ago and not something he’d chosen to upload as part of his current career, and as such I almost hesitated to share it, but then I did anyway, because it was a nice video and it’s fine.

The other day, it was brought to my attention that that video has been taken off YouTube. I had previously been aware that some people connected to that video had seen my Tumblr post about it, and that freaked me out enough, but I didn't find out that the video got taken off the internet until, fortunately, just after I finished listening to the radio show (fortunate because I'd have found it hard to finish the show while knowing that). It's definitely my fault. It sat there unnoticed for 14 years, since it was uploaded in 2010, and everyone forgot about it, and it was doing fine on there. Then I share it on Tumblr, which brings its existence to the attention of people who’d forgotten about it, and it almost immediately gets taken down.

I of course still have the video, due to my policy that I’ve already outlined in this post. I downloaded it immediately after finding it. But while I downloaded that one, I did find myself thinking, this is a bit silly, even for me. Obviously I don’t need to worry about this one disappearing from the internet. It doesn’t have any kind of copyright issue that could get a strike, it’s a home video just owned by the people who appear in it. It’s been there for 14 years. That’s not going to suddenly change. But I downloaded it anyway, because, I don’t know, what if there’s some wild scenario where they suddenly remember it’s there and get rid of it? It did not occur to me for a moment that me sharing it on Tumblr would be the event that causes that happen. But that is definitely what happened.

Normally, in a case like this, I would make a Tumblr post about how a video I liked has disappeared from the internet, but don’t worry, everyone, I have heroically saved it, and I’ve now uploaded it to Tumblr so people can enjoy it once more. But I won’t do that with this video, because this time, they took it down for the specific reason that they did not want it shared on my specific Tumblr blog. That’s the thing they were trying to prevent.

I will of course respect it, but also, what the hell? Something getting shared on my Tumblr blog does not mean it will be spread around. Any given post of mine is read by like four people. There is no one here, guys, it’s absolutely fine. I do try to have some amount of respect and discretion on this blog with the things I get to listen to that aren’t supposed to be a matter of public record, but I pretty much do that out of theoretical, hypothetical principle. I could say anything, it wouldn’t matter, because no one is reading this. Okay like four people are reading this, but statistically, in the grand scheme of things, no one is reading this. And I promise I won’t tell Steve Bennett. It’s all fine.

It doesn’t actually matter that a short video got taken off YouTube. I’m pretty sure no one actually saw my Tumblr post and thought it was a huge problem and I’d committed a grave error by sharing it. It was an 86-second video of a digital DJ singing a Bob Dylan song in 2010, he wasn’t saying racial slurs or anything. But I had been posting a lot about that radio show over the last few months, including posting some stuff that was probably too personal and getting too into digging up all the stuff I could find around it, and did feel self-conscious that I was taking the fandom too far, and now that I know something I put out there actually did come to their attention and cause them to decide they don’t want that out there, I feel like a child who played with a toy too hard and broke it. And now I don’t want to poke at that toy any more in case I break it further. By which I mean listening to more John Robins at this point will induce what he refers to as the shame well.

So I’m going back to my decision to leave the BBC podcasts, though I will keep them downloaded in case someone suddenly decides to remove them from the internet. And instead, for my next long-term thing that I play on the way too and from work and whenever I get a break or any free time nearly anywhere… I’m not proud of this choice, and I’m not saying I’m definitely going to stick with it. It is possible that this brand of terrible offensive humour will get old quickly, and I’ll want to move to something else because I listen to all the hours of this. But for the moment, I have downloaded every episode of the Ray Peacock Podcast and the Peacock and Gamble podcasts. Downloaded the mp3s off Fourble, because the RSS feeds seem to be missing some stuff, and I just like have these things saved.

I listened to the first seven or so episodes of Peacock and Gamble a while ago now, it repeatedly made me laugh but also made me check to make sure my headphones were definitely connected and no one in the centre for disabled children where I work could hear the kind of filth I was listening to during my breaks. Elis and John never made me feel the need to check on that, which was nice.

I’m just really craving some unprofessionalism in my comedy right now, and that’s got to be the best way to get it. I listened to the first three episodes of the Ray Peacock Podcast today, and Jesus Christ. A lot of different types of offensive going on there. Some that I think are objectively fine even if offensive to some (explicit sexual talk), some not so much (no need to get too specific about that, I’m sure you can imagine). But it was really funny. Made me laugh out loud on the bus, and also check to make sure my headphones were definitely connected on the bus. I'm pretty sure nothing that comes out of Ray Peacock's mouth is true, so that does help.

It's a very easy listen, the way drunk food that's terrible for you is easy to eat. Twice now, I've reached the end of an episode and been surprised because it didn't feel like I'd been listening for that long.

Any comedy radio show or podcast where someone unironically plugs their MySpace page - that's my favourite era. And that's right where we are, in the early Ray Peacock Podcast (I started with Peacock and Gamble when I was just trying it out months ago, but as I might stick with it this time, I'm starting from the beginning). Ed Gamble appears for the first time in episode 4, so that’ll be fun. I haven’t even got to him yet.

That’ll be fine, right? Peacock and Gamble doesn’t feel like a toy I could break, because it has so little respectability to begin with that I couldn’t tarnish it. And unlike John Robins, it’s not like Ed Gamble said anything in a recording around 2010 that he’d prefer not to have someone dig up in 2024 and share on a blog. (That was of course sarcasm, but also there genuinely isn’t a danger of that, because there’s a difference between what level of unacceptable joke I’m willing to laugh at privately, and what I’m willing to publicly endorse by sharing on Tumblr. Someone might cancel Ed Gamble someday, but it won’t be me. And it wouldn't be me even if I posted transcripts of the eight most offensive things he said in 2009, because there are a maximum of four people reading this.)

Seriously though, I might get sick of this after a few more episodes and go back to where I left off the Pappy's podcast, which is my other option. Or even back to BBC Elis/John, after some time for the initial shame well to dry a bit. It's fine. It'll be fine.

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pbandjesse · 3 months

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I am not feeling great today. Both physically and emotionally. I probably should have taken today off. But I did not. I pushed myself to hard and I honestly feel really bad right now. But I am trying to remain positive.

I slept okay last night. When we got home I got a shower and tried to be in a better place mentally but I was just feeling really down. I wanted to be with my family more. I wanted to feel more settled. I wanted another day off. I was very upset and James was trying to help but I was just kind of falling apart.

Sleep didn't help as much as I hoped. My dreams didn't really bring me any comfort.

I got out of bed and was coughing and uncomfortable. But I wanted to go to work. I did not want to go to work but I also did and was just having a lot of mixed and weird emotions.

James had packed me a lunch but I wasn't excited about eating at all. The bagel they made me was good. I ate it on the drive in to get and perk myself up. And it wasn't a bad drive. It wasn't even a bad day. I just did not feel great.

When I got to camp I got right into working on the drawing for the iron workers who are going to make the long house super structure. This was actually kind of hard. It was a bit like drawing a lobster cage. But I think I got the message across. And if they need more instructions or directions I can do my best.

I would do some more work on the schedule and specifically the cabin choice programs. Me and Heather had a conversation trying to work out more what the vision is. And I think we have a better handle on it now. The work continues but I think it's going to be really good in the end.

I would take a lot of breaks. I was coughing s lot and just feeling out of sorts. I considered leaving early but in the end I toughed it out.

I had my lunch over a two hour block while still typing away and watching TikToks. I would also do some sewing if the little felt bears I found in my sewing bag. It was nice.

I was frustrated that I thought my two packages were going to be at camp when I got there but they weren't and I was bummed. But we had some slips for packages so I was sent on a errand to get them from the post office. Where I had the most bizarre conversation.

The woman, when I handed her my four package slips, said "oo someone loves you" and I was like well someone loves camp. And she's like oh are you guys out there? And I'm like yeah we're actually open all year. And she goes oh I know that. And I was like oh okay. Like I thought she just was surprised about us being there. Then she goes I'm just surprised we have packages. And I'm like oh yeah we were surprised too because the note online said our business was closed. And she was like oh well we never drop off packages to you guys, we have had a deal since 2003. And I'm like. Oh? And then she alluded to it being weird I was coming to get packages. I left this conversation absolutely baffled. It was like talking to a wizard.

I walked to the 711 and got a donut and candy for later. And went back to camp. I would wait until I got home to open my packages. But the two others were camp things. One for Joe. And the other the contact paper we ordered to cover the branding on the signs.

I was very proud how close the color was. It almost looks intentional now. Me and Sarah would walk over to the woodlands village and it took a bit of time to measure out the pieces but we got them all cut and installed and it looks great. I was worried it would look like we photoshopped it so I had Sarah take a picture of me installing it to to send to the Smithsonian people. And pretty quickly after Heather sent the photos off they responded and thanked us for cooperating and we thanked them for letting us still have the signs. All is right in the world.

I would go home soon after that. I was tired. It was starting to rain. I was only leaving a little early. I talked to Heather about some of the stuff I could handle tomorrow. And then I was off.

I would get home around 430. And I was really excited to see that all of our stuff is finally in the house!! James had texted me through the whole thing this morning. The moving guys were apparently great and the one even asked for Tina's contact info because he liked the apartment so much. I thought that was so sweet.

I had thought maybe I would lay down for an hour when I got home but James was almost done making dinner so instead I got in the couch and opened my packages. The one was my birthday gifts for myself. A baby baggu, a baggu minu crescent bag with embroidered hearts, a t shirt that says "my favorite T-shirt" in flocked lettering. It also came with some free gifts. A note book and pens. A stress ball shaped like a half an orange. A charger cord. Some trinket dishes I'll probably regift. It was fun.

The other package was the wall sconces I ordered. We will probably try to figure those out soon. But I was not in a place mentally to figure those out.

James would go up to their room to record their podcast and I would spent the next two hours moving the shelves around in the living room to work best. They are not in the originally planned lay out but this ended up working out way better. There is still a lot to put away but I made so much progress. I even started hanging my looms on the wall. I'm really excited for the progress. I hope to start hanging more and putting more things away over the next few days.

I enjoyed my podcast while I was doing all of this. I worked on organizing our new pantry bookshelf in the kitchen. And moving things around. But I was getting frustrated because James said we would go get groceries together after they recorded and I felt like they record for to long. Like I know they are having fun and having hobbies but also. Hang out with me.

They would finish around 730. And they would help me hang a shelf before we put our shoes on and headed out into the world.

First stop target. My tension rod for the pantry bookshelf was lost during the move today. So James got me a new one. And I wanted binder clips for a storage idea I had. I also insisted on getting a $1 yellow chick but James said I could only have it if I carried it in the air the whole walk around the store and by God I did it. Silly time.

Then we want to Harris teeter next door. I started very very much not feeling well in that store. On the drive to the shopping center my ears had closed up and all of a sudden in the seafood section of the store they opened up and everything was so loud and I felt very sick.

But I held it together. We got the things in our lists. And went to check out.

The line was confusing though and three people jumped us and we were in line for a seemingly long time. But it didn't help that I didn't feel good. I helped James scan by passing them things from the cart. It didn't take long once we were at a register. I was just happy to get out of there.

We got home and brought everything inside. I went and fo up and a table cloth and set up my sewing machine on the ground to fashion a curtain for the pantry. And while it's a little short I think it looks darling. And after James got all the grocery says they took the trash out and moved all of our Lego flowers to the top of the kitchen cabinets and it looks so sweet. I really love how things are coming together.

Now we are laying on the couch. Sweetp is here. Things are good. I took the inhaler. Which has been an almost daily occurrence. And it helped a lot. But I am still very tired. I want to wash my hair though and get in bed. And I really hope tomorrow will be better.

Sleep well my friends. Be safe. I love you.

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shadowsong26fic · 11 months

Text

Papa and J---- Update!

Author: shadowsong26

Rating: PG/PG-13

Fandom: Les Misérables

Characters: Technically all on-page characters are OCs; Valjean, Cosette, Marius, and Javert are discussed as historical personalities. Backstory Cosette/Marius and heavily implied Valjean/Javert.

Warnings: Nothing specific, I don’t think?

Summary: Euphrasie Pontmercy–known in the art world as La Jardinière–isn’t exactly a household name. Still, the sheer length of her active career (her work was first displayed and sold in 1839, and she left one last work unfinished at her death in 1910) makes her interesting to people who actually study that century in art. But as far as the historical record is concerned, Jardinière seems to have sprung semi-fully-formed from the streets of Paris somewhere in the mid-to-late 1820s. Other than the fact that she was educated in a convent, essentially nothing is known about her parents or her childhood.

Until now.

Or:

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a PhD student with no thesis topic must be in want of an undiscovered painting to go absolutely feral over.

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of their respective creators.

Notes: Here we are with Chapter 3! Where Ari talks to Phil’s mom and gets a little more background/family lore. Which is...fairly accurate, even after nearly two centuries of generational telephone, lol. also I am. Tempted. to find someone to commission to actually make a version of the painting are any of y’all who might be artists interested/does anyone have any recommendations of artists who are open for commissions who do that kind of style

Updates will be posted here on Thursdays and crossposted to AO3 on Fridays.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Wednesday afternoon, as soon as the last class I was TAing let out, I headed back to Phil’s house. I’d spoken with his mother on the phone the night before, and she’d agreed to meet me at four. Foot in the door, at least. First hurdle cleared.

Traffic was shit, because of course it was on a day I needed things to run smoothly, and I got there about five minutes late.

The woman who answered the door when I knocked was a little bit shorter than me, with the same bright blue eyes Phil had. Too old to be his sister, so this must be his mom.

“Hi, I’m sorry I’m late,” I said. “I’m Ari Wright, we talked on the phone?”

“Of course,” she said, and smiled, stepping aside. “Please, come in, ah…?”

“Ari is fine,” I said, and followed her inside. “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me, Mrs. Riley.”

“Oh, please, Louise is fine,” she said. “Would you like some water, tea?”

“Uh, water would be great, thanks,” I said.

She left me in the living room, excusing herself to go into the kitchen to get it, which gave me another minute alone with the painting.

Which was just as ordinary-extraordinary as it had been on Friday night. Exactly like I remembered it.

To be fair, I’d spent probably way too many hours the past few days studying my shitty phone pictures of it, so.

“I have to admit,” Mrs. Riley--Louise--said, rejoining me and setting a pitcher of water and a couple of glasses on the table. “I was a little surprised when Phil told me one of his friends was interested in Mémé Cosette’s painting.”

I stepped away from the wall and sat in one of the armchairs--not the couch; that would have been Awkward at least in the back of my brain. “I saw it when I was over here with Phil the other day, and…well, it jumped out at me.”

“Right,” she said. “So, what exactly are you looking for here?”

“Well, I was hoping to get your permission to do a more thorough study of the piece,” I said, then hesitated. “…if I can start by asking you some questions? About the painting and its history, whatever you know about it. And recording, if that’s okay. Easier than taking notes.”

“That’s fine,” she said, picking up her glass and settling into one of the other chairs.

I took a sip from the other glass, then set my phone to record audio and put it on the middle of the coffee table. “I suppose I should start with...well, I’m not sure how much you’re aware of your ancestor’s career--Phil wasn’t, at least?”

Louise smiled. “I know who Mémé Cosette was, or at least what I was told about her,” she said. “Euphrasie Pontmercy, also known as La Jardinère. I always liked listening to the family stories.”

“What can you tell me about the painting?” I asked. Obviously, if I went forward, anything she told me would have to be backed up by other sources. Anecdotal family history had a funny way of getting tweaked or embellished over the years, especially when the relative in question was someone even moderately famous. “Phil told me it’s always been in your family, and she’s your…”

“Great-great…great grandmother, I think,” Louise said, taking a moment to count. “My grandmother’s grandfather was her son René.”

The youngest of the five children. Right.

“I’m not sure how exactly the painting ended up in my great-grandmother’s possession, as opposed to any of the other children or grandchildren, but I know she was the one who brought it with her to the States, when she emigrated from France in 1912.” She smiled wryly. “According to the story, they almost boarded Titanic at Cherbourg, but one or more of the children had the measles. Or possibly diphtheria, I’ve heard different things at different times.”

“Not something you’d normally think of as lucky,” I said.

“No, not really,” she agreed. “Like I said, that’s the story, and who knows if it’s true. But I do know that the painting came to my great-grandmother somehow, and she passed it on to my grandmother Marie-Celeste, who left it to me. Since I was the only one of her grandchildren who liked to listen to her stories.”

“Had she actually met La Jardinière?” I asked. It was possible--if they’d been planning to sail in 1912, and Jardinière had died in 1910…

“A few times,” Louise confirmed. “She was about six when Mémé Cosette died, but she remembered visiting her.”

Well, that was a pretty damn solid foundation for the painting’s provenance. Again, I’d have to back up the authentication in other ways, but this was looking more and more promising.

“What about the subjects?” I asked. “The men in the painting, I mean. It’s labeled as Papa and J. Do you know anything about them?”

“Only the stories,” she said. “She was adopted, did you know that? Mémé Cosette, I mean.”

That was interesting; adoption wasn’t a very common practice in the early nineteenth century, at least not in the United States or Great Britain, and most of what did happen was very much behind closed doors. I made a mental note to add the history of French adoption law to my research list. It was unlikely, but maybe I’d get lucky, and there would be some kind of record of the adoption somewhere. If I could track down exactly when and where it happened.

“No, I didn’t,” I said. “Unless there’s something in an obscure French biography I haven’t been able to find and muddle through, I don’t think anyone knows much of anything about her childhood. Which is one of the reasons this painting is so interesting. When did this happen? And where?”

“I don’t know where, exactly,” Louise said. “Some little town in Normandy, maybe? Somewhere in the north of France, I’m pretty sure. Again, according to the family stories. It was when she was around seven or eight, I think? Before that…I don’t know. My grandmother didn’t know, or if she did she never told me, but I think she had the impression that it wasn’t a very good situation. And then Mémé Cosette was adopted, so that’s where Papa came into her life.”

“Do you have a name for him?” I asked. “Her marriage license listed her maiden name as Fauchelevent, but was that his name, or from her birth parents…?”

“That I don’t know,” she said. “All I know is that she was adopted, and that she named her eldest son for her adoptive father.”

And Jardinière’s eldest son’s name was Jean, which was. Extremely, unhelpfully common.

“Do you know which of the men he is?” I asked. “In the painting, I mean.”

Louise got up and went to the wall to examine it. “I…think the bearded man. My grandmother obviously never met him, and I think her grandfather--René, I mean--was very young when he died, but that matches up with what she heard from her aunts and uncles, as she passed it on to me. He was a very private person, and supposedly very strong. One story--and I can’t say I believe it’s true--involved him physically carrying another man to safety for something like twelve hours after some kind of disaster.”

Which…well, Louise was right, that story didn’t seem all that credible. But the more general description, and the kind of man who would give rise to that sort of story, did match up with the impression the painting gave.

I stood up as well, leaving my glass on the coffee table, and joined her at the painting. “What about the other man? The mysterious J?”

“We’re back to a game of generational telephone on this one,” Louise said. “I know even less about him. But my grandmother said he was a close friend of the family, according to what Mémé Cosette told her when she asked once. That he and her--that is, Mémé Cosette’s--father lived together for the last decade or so of his life. Not sure which him she meant.”

…well, all right then.

My eye was, once again, drawn to J’s hand, resting on the back of the chair. And they lived together, maybe, for a decade or so.

Of course, that could mean a lot of different things. And, you know, it’s easy to see what you want to see, especially when there’s so little information to go on. Whatever their relationship was, though, I’d been right in my initial impression of intimacy. Whatever kind of intimacy it was.

“Right,” I said. “I think that’s a good baseline, at least for now, but I might have more questions later. And I…not that I’m saying I doubt your version of the story, or anything, but…”

“But if you want to actually research the painting, you need more proof than half-remembered family stories after two centuries of generational telephone,” Louise said, and smiled again. “It’s fine, I know how research works. I remember when my husband got his Master’s degree.”

“Yeah, exactly,” I said. “Thank you, for your understanding. Um, so, with your permission, I would like to borrow the painting for a few weeks. To authenticate it, and do a more detailed analysis of the technique and construction and so on, see what else I can learn from the actual physical piece.”

“Right,” Louise said, turning back to the painting again, thinking. “Just to study it, you said? And, obviously, write about your findings if you find anything worth writing about. But you won’t put the painting on display in a museum or anything?”

I shook my head. “Not unless you agree to it, no. I’d take photographs, to include with the paper, but the painting itself won’t go on display unless you allow it.”

“And when you cite it…I don’t know how it works, exactly, but you wouldn’t have to specifically name me?”

“No, I can just list it as being in a private collection.”

“Right,” she said. “…I have to admit, now that you’re here asking questions…I didn’t really think about it before. How many gaps there are in the story.”

“It’s funny how memory works sometimes,” I said. “Especially…well, like you said, when generational telephone gets involved.”

And it was…a weirdly appropriate question in context, since that was something Jardinière had come back to time and time again in her work. This idea of memory, and how it lines up with reality. How it changes. Those repeat paintings she’d made of the same locations in Paris over the years. The series of paintings of her own memories.

And, of course, her last painting. Souvenir--inachevé. Memory--unfinished.

Definitely need to get to Chicago to see it in person.

“True,” she said. “All right. Under those conditions--that the painting won’t be displayed, and that you’ll leave my name out of it, you have my permission to borrow it and do whatever tests or study you need for your research.”

“Thank you!” I said. “Thank you so much, this…I really appreciate all your help, Mrs.--Louise.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “And I hope you’ll share whatever you find with me, before publishing?”

“Of course,” I said. “It’s your painting, your family history.”

“Good,” she said, and smiled again. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Me, too,” I said. “Me, too.”

#shadowsong writes other fandoms #shadowsong writes self-indulgent bs

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