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1d1195 · 6 months

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Love and Dryer Sheets III

Sorry for the wait. Hope you like it :)

Read the rest here: Love and Dryer Sheets

Just under 6k words

Warnings: emotional cheating, physical cheating, toxic relationships, arguing, etc.

Of course, she wanted to know his deepest thoughts. His desires. She wanted to know what his lips felt like on hers. How he took his coffee and whether he liked to sleep with the window open or closed. But that wasn’t her job to know. They had these moments in the laundry room and that was enough.

For now.

True to form, Harry continued to do the most inane loads of laundry. At one point he had just a towel, a T-shirt, and a sock. Hiding his odd loads of items from her—so he wasn’t so obviously following her to the laundry room so often—was the hard part. Fortunately, she never seemed to notice. Or if she did, she didn’t say anything.

Maybe she wants to see you, too. Harry’s heart had developed its own independent voice. He could feel it and hear it when he was around her. It was much kinder than his conscience and was all for Harry falling in love with the woman in the laundry room. He was burning through his jug of detergent. Ava paid no attention to it as much as Miss Sunshine paid no mind to his weird array of wash. Harry was lucky because Ava still brought her laundry to her mum’s house when she visited on a fairly weekly bais, so she didn’t have to sit with her laundry in the communal room. So, she didn’t have a clue about Harry’s laundry partner.

It was also how Harry had kept Ava’s presence a secret from his personal, human-form of sunshine.

You’re an idiot.

Harry ignored his conscience completely. As if it hadn’t whispered a thing to him.

Over the course of the next few months, Harry watched her read no less than six books and they chatted about most of everything and anything. Harry hadn’t felt so at ease around someone in ages. It made him so...confused. It felt like all the tension in his body released at once when he was around her. He doesn’t remember the last time he wasn’t tense for such substantial time periods.

Maybe if she hadn’t offered to share her laundry detergent, he would have continued to feel tense. If she wasn’t so nice, he might not have even noticed her sitting on top of the washer. He wouldn’t think about how soft her hair looked and how he wanted to slide his fingers through it. There wouldn’t be a thought about her giggle and how every time he saw The Wizard of Oz on the cable line up, he wanted to head down to her apartment to let her know—or ask to watch it with her.

“Have y’ever seen Wicked?” He asked her during one of their reading and waiting sessions. She placed a finger on her page making sure not to lose her spot.

She shook her head with a knowing smirk. “It’s on my list, but I can’t justify the cost right now.”

“They don’t pay y’a billion for being an angel at the hospital?” He asked with a smirk.

It felt like Harry was winning a competition he didn’t even know he entered every time she laughed at his jokes. “No, not really,” she shook her head. Their books were nearly forgotten so quickly. They were mirroring one another sitting on top of their washers. Her heels lightly bumped into the front of the machine, and they were just smiling at each other like they had been friends for their whole lives. They didn’t have to talk. He simply enjoyed her happy, sunshiney company.

Jesus Christ. His conscience was still trying even though he stopped listening to it. It was futile. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop how he felt. Even if it was wrong. Harry would simply push the feelings back as much as he could. However, his heart—with it’s independent voice—would only let him push his emotions down so much.

Harry found himself heading to the laundry room before she got there some days. It took some time to map out her schedule, but he seemed to find a pattern of every three to four days she would be lugging some of her stuff down to the basement. Fortunately, his conscience had gotten through to him to say he shouldn’t be stalking the laundry room. It should be a little more of a chance of finding her there and so he began doing at least one load a week without her.

“Hey munchkin,” her light voice nearly sent a shiver down his spine as she entered. It took Harry all the willpower in the world to not spin around at the sound immediately. Instead, he smirked at the little nickname. It was fitting of course, that she would choose it. It was ironic, as Harry was tall and far from a munchkin. But it was as adorable as she was, and Harry would respond to it for the rest of his life—especially if it came from her lips.

Easy. His brain continued to warn him, despite Harry having not acknowledged the voice of reason in months. But even Harry recognized it was dangerous to let her get so attached. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her because of his own idiocy.

“What d’you mean y’don’t like fried cauliflower?!” He ran his hands over his face like this was the worst grievance she could ever muster. Maybe it was. Harry was certain someone was lovely as she was couldn’t truly make someone annoyed. He couldn’t imagine fighting with her the way he fought with Ava.

Stop. His brain tried to remind him that thoughts like that weren’t okay. He shouldn’t be thinking about Ava and Miss Sunshine in the same wavelength. It was bad, number one. But it was also a slippery slope to being an absolute disaster of messing up a name and he needed this calm for a little while longer. The catastrophe of emotions Harry had raging in his heart and mind was overwhelming. He was going to mess up; he could feel it. If he didn’t miss this calm, this warmth, the sunshine so very much he would have worried more about the impending storm.

“If I’m being honest, I had the taste buds of a picky ten-year-old for the longest time; so I haven’t tried fried cauliflower in a long time. So, I’m open to giving it another chance.”

Harry’s smile made her feel like she could fly if he asked her to. His dimples made her stomach flutter with a thousand butterflies. She wished he would ask her to dinner. She wanted to try fried cauliflower again. If he did ask, she would gladly justify the cost of Wicked tickets. Sitting with him in the laundry room for the last couple of months made her so happy. It brightened her whole week, and she was glad he had as much laundry as he did so she could see him so often. She should have just asked him out. It was a brave thing to do and there was nothing really stopping her from doing so.

Except the idea that if he said no, she would have to find a new place to do laundry because she would never want to see him again. Maybe he was just friendly and liked having the company during such a boring chore.

When he smiled, she could swear he seemed happier than he had when he entered the laundry room. Regardless of if he already was happy. Maybe it was just wishful thinking; maybe it was her projecting how she felt the moment Harry’s foot crossed the threshold of the room. It was nice chatting with Harry. Most of the conversations were light—like fried cauliflower and which Spider-man was best (she was extremely partial to Andrew Garfield, but Harry was a firm believer Tobey Maguire did it best).

But over the course of their friendship, she could recognize when he was having a bad day. “Something wrong, munchkin?” She asked when he stared off to the wall and not his book. The only sound in the room was their washers humming quietly below them. He didn’t answer right away, and she waited patiently. Something she took home from work. Sometimes people needed a moment to process what they were feeling because they couldn’t form what they were feeling just yet.

“Sometimes I think m’not going t’be a good dad,” he mumbled.

She felt her heart and stomach flip in equal parts. The idea of Harry as a dad—even though she hadn’t known him that long, and certainly shouldn’t have been thinking about him in that context—had her ovaries aching for something that wasn’t hers to ache for.

“I think that’s a rational fear for anyone,” she said gently. He shrugged, still didn’t look at her. He crossed his ankles, his heels bumping into the washer. “Are you going to be a dad soon?” She asked with a smirk. It was a curious question, but a genuine one. His relationships were none of her business. They hadn’t done anything. They weren’t doing anything wrong. She called Niall nicknames all the time.

It was fine. For now.

For now.

But when he looked at her finally, her heart felt a crack in it that made her want to take back her question. His expression was a bit cutting and she felt a little taken aback by such a cold look on his normally warm face. She felt embarrassed she had asked it; making her face warm at his irritated look. “No,” he murmured. He was reading about a couple staying in a relationship that the main character didn’t love as much as he used to. It got him thinking about the idea of staying with Ava. What that would do to their already tense relationship. How it would affect his relationship with children if he didn’t change something...soon. Instead of voicing all those worries, he went with the one that really did weigh on his mind frequently. Another problem he didn’t have a solution to. “But...m’dad wasn’t ‘round a lot growing up. S’not like...’ve got a good role model t’think ‘bout y’know?”

She let the words fall over them for a few moments. In case Harry wanted to add to his statement or revise something. If he wanted to take it back... It was a personal notion. Talking about something so deep and serious was like a new step in their relationship—whatever relationship it was that they had, didn’t matter—and would make it deeper and stronger itself. “Well,” she cleared her throat quietly. “I think you just worrying about that will make you a good dad,” she said softly.

His face softened back to its natural, Harry-looking face that made her feel warm and fuzzy again. “Thanks, Sunshine,” he said softly.

She felt like she had to share something equally heavy. Just so Harry wouldn’t feel out of place, and sound so sad dealing with his own emotions. “I feel like my mom and dad have made it hard for me to believe in love that lasts forever,” she looked at her hands gripping the sides of her book. It was such a hard thing to admit. She hadn’t really told anyone that besides Niall.

Harry tilted his head curiously at her. That was quite the thing to disclose to Harry. But he found his heart aching for her. It worried him because she was so lovely, and she deserved the kindest, deepest love. He could tell just from sitting in the room with her over the last few months that she deserved that. “You’re not your parents, love,” he reminded her. “Think if y’don’t want a love like theirs, you’ll find the one y’do want,” he murmured. “S’not like y’need a heart from a wizard or anything,” he joked.

She smiled and nodded. It seemed like it was too good to be true that Harry would quote her favorite book to her. Especially when she was vulnerable and voicing something that hurt her—especially after a recent breakup. But Harry was real. He was sitting there; telling her his deepest thoughts or making her laugh with a lame joke or sharing a recipe about his favorite kind of brussels sprouts.

“Thanks, Harry,” she whispered softly feeling her heart rate slow to nearly nothing.

“You’re welcome, Sunshine.”

They went back to their books, stealing glances at one another until her washer finished its cycle. “Do you...fold your page down in your book?” He asked. He thought he had imagined it the first time. But this was...

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes throwing her stuff into the basket to transfer to the dryer.

“Kitten... s’unnatural.”

She snorted, smiling so brightly Harry swore it cured him of the sadness he was feeling before. “I squeeze the toothpaste from the middle too,” she giggled.

He shook his head melodramatically and smirked. “Somehow, I think we’ll get along anyway," he murmured and it made her toes nearly curl with want for him and his mouth all over her body. "Even if y'a serial killer."

Niall was laying on her sofa while she cooked in the kitchen. It was his favorite of her dishes: chicken parmesan. Her specialty. Plus, she made garlic bread from scratch that had Niall salivating with the scent wafting through her apartment.

“Have y’seen Harry around?” He asked as he flipped through different titles looking for a movie to watch. He thought he might settle on The Wizard of Oz because it had been a while since they had watched it together.

She was sprinkling shredded cheese across the dish and nodded even though Niall couldn’t see. Her heart felt fluttery, and her stomach did its flip that it always did when she thought about or saw Harry. “Yeah...just...in the laundry room.”

“Kinky.”

“Shut up, Niall.”

“I’ve never had washing machine sex myself, but I imagine all the vibration would work wonders for you,” he continued anyway.

“Niall,” she groaned feeling flushed and awkward that even she had those thoughts about Harry. “I’m gonna spit in your food.”

He rotated from his supine position and turned to lean over the back of the sofa. It gave him a better look at his best friend making dinner in the kitchen. “You’re awfully sensitive about him, darling,” he smirked.

She rolled her eyes. “He’s cute, funny, nice, smart...he checks all the boxes,” she murmured quietly.

Niall knew what she was getting at though. He could see it in her face and hear it in her voice. “But...?”

“I don’t know...doesn’t he seem too good to be true?”

Niall looked at her with a sympathetic smile. “Think you might be harboring some emotions from your last relationship, princess,” Niall’s voice was gentle. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed in front of Niall. But she could feel the anxiety that was clearly going to riddle every relationship she had going forward. That worried her and made her feel...bad. So maybe she should just listen to Niall. Maybe she was overthinking it—of course she was overthinking it! Or even if Harry was too good to be true...wasn’t there something nice about him just...being nice to her? After all that bad stuff and hard stuff that she went through? It wasn’t like she had to marry him or anything. It was just nice to talk to someone who seemed to enjoy her company and didn’t make her feel like she had to walk around on eggshells.

“I told Harry about my mom and dad,” she responded instead of confirming or denying his statement.

Niall raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. That was a feat to say the least. “Really?”

“Well...he said something about how he thought he would be a bad dad... I thought—well... I wanted to share something similar, you know?”

Niall adored her and her kind, empathetic brain. “Yeah. I know,” he smiled encouragingly. “What did he say?”

She sighed. After she finished with the cheese, she slid the dish into the oven and sauntered over to the sofa. She fell beside Niall and laid her head on his leg. He fiddled with the strands of her hair comfortingly. “I mean...I didn’t give him a lot of information...but he was really understanding all the same. Quoted something about the Tin Man.”

Niall smirked. “He sounds like your soulmate, darling,” there was an obvious tone in Niall’s voice. Like she didn’t already know that.

“I really like him, Niall,” she admitted quietly. “Like really like him. I can’t stop thinking about him,” she whispered.

Niall wanted her to be happy. Happy as she possibly could be. “I bet he likes you too.”

She was still so unsure. It had been months. He should have asked her out by now. It wasn’t like she wasn’t obvious. She was calling one of the tallest men she was friends with munchkin for Christ’s sake. She thought they were friends, but she didn’t even have his phone number. They never spoke outside the laundry room.

But it was undeniable that there was something there. She felt it in her heart, her mind, and all the butterflies fluttering in her stomach each time he entered the same room as her. “I hope so,” she looked sadly toward the TV excited to see the intro credits of her favorite movie. “He’d be a really good scarecrow to my Dorothy.”

“Ava. I cannot keep doing this,” he pressed his hands into his eyes.

She glared at him. “I’m not the problem.”

Harry hated this. He didn’t want a my-fault-your-fault relationship. If there were going to be issues, he wanted to fix them. Relationships weren’t perfect. Never. Not even the best ones out there. His was far from perfect. But maybe it had a chance at one point in time. It didn’t seem like it anymore.

Now, Ava just made him mad. Harry felt alone even when she was in the room. More alone than when she wasn’t in the room.

Today, it was that she couldn’t find her keys and Harry said something like he hadn’t seen them. Did you check the car? Because sometimes Ava would think she dropped them in her bag, but they’d slide right back to the floor, and she wouldn’t notice. This comment resulted in her eye roll, her irritation with Harry’s obvious question. Of course, I checked the car, I’m not an idiot.

The insinuation that Harry would insult her made him angry. He liked to believe he was kind; even when it was hard. Even when Ava made him so mad, he was shaking.

They began searching for her keychain, room by room fighting about something new in every room. Harry looked under the sofa, pulling a pair of his socks covered in dust bunnies sparked the first peripheral argument. Can you not leave your socks lying around?

In the fridge, in case she put it in there when grabbing a bottle of water. The original fight now spiraled into who left the dishes in the sink?

The bathroom: why was the washcloth on the floor?

The sitting room under the coffee table: When you leave the room, could you turn the TV off? Why is your phone volume maxed to the top?

“What is the point of all this Ava, all we do is argue about everything!?” Harry snapped as he slammed the bathroom door shut for two seconds of peace while he looked in her makeup drawer; maybe she was touching up her makeup and dropped them in there.

“We don’t just argue,” she sighed bitterly through the closed door. “Be serious Harry!”

“You’re going t’argue ‘bout how much we argue? Cute. Real fucking cute, love.”

“Jesus, Harry. Quit being so defensive!”

“Defensive?!” He hissed. “M’trying t’help you find your keys and y’act like I killed a dog in every room!”

He opened the door and found her leaning against the opposite wall, her bag over her shoulder waiting for this search to be over so she could go wherever she was headed. “Where are y’even going?” He asked as he went to their bedroom and looked under the bed.

“Out for a coworker’s birthday dinner.”

“Alone?”

“What y’don’t trust me?” The accusation was thick in her voice.

“Ava, for the love of God,” he practically growled. “Y’don’t invite me anywhere anymore, I was jus’ asking if it was a significant other thing—I would go with you. Christ.”

“We don’t need people to see us argue over appetizers,” she muttered. “But no, it’s not.”

Harry ignored her comment about arguing about appetizers. “Why don’t y’take my car and I’ll look for your keys,” he suggested quietly.

She shook her head. “I don’t like driving your car. The seat settings are weird and it’s hard for me to park it.”

“D’you want me t’drop you off and pick you up?” He asked.

She sighed dramatically. “I’ll just Uber.”

Harry was going to lose his mind. “Are y’serious?” He wondered following her retreating figure to the main room again. “You don’t even want your coworkers to see me? What, do y’think we’ll fight in the parking lot?”

“I never know with you Harry,” she shrugged with a dramatic, exhausted sigh. It was the same way Harry felt. She went to the closet to grab her coat and Harry heard the distinct jingle of her keys in the pocket as she pulled the jacket off the hanger.

Harry stared at her blankly. Emotionless. Not a sorry or a thank you for looking fell from her mouth. She didn’t even look apologetic as she slid her coat on wordlessly. “I forgot I wore this when I was out last,” she mumbled as she exited the apartment.

Normally after a fight—or a series of fights like that—the moment Harry had a second to himself he felt almost instantly better. But today all he felt was more anger. All of it. Down to the very smallest atoms of his bones. It hurt him as if she had reached in and yanked his heart out. He didn’t know why. He didn’t understand why this fight about keys made him so angry that he couldn’t shake the feeling. Not even a little.

He paced for a few minutes trying to calm his breathing. Trying to get the anger out of his chest, his head, every blood cell that was boiling with frustration.

It wasn’t just keys, washcloths, and dishes. It was everything. They were always arguing. It could have been a world record. They had to have the fastest time for arguing over nothing. But even though the fights were so trivial they built and built until it wasn’t just stupid little things.

They didn’t work. At least not anymore. They were broken. Maybe forever. Harry would have to start over. He would have to move out. Gemma would say I told you so. Mum would be understanding but would tell him she never liked Ava and he would have to try and justify why he stayed so long and it wasn’t what he wanted. He didn't want to justify anything. It wasn't anyone's business...

But he knew it was true. Deep down, he knew. Then, his mind and heart would be broken. Everything was wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Before his conscience or his heart could say anything internally, he was hurrying down the stairs; his body moving almost of its own accord. It caused the slightest relief in his veins. He could feel the simmering boil slow just a fraction.

It was bad. A bad idea. A bad move. It was just bad.

But Harry was tired of being angry.

The only time he wasn’t angry was when he was enjoying the warmth of sunshine.

“Hey munchkin,” she smirked as he entered the basement. She was so used to his tall frame taking up the entryway she didn't even have to fully look to see that it was him coming down the steps. She did a double take looking at the lack of a basket. He was frazzled. Her smirk turned to a frown in an instant. “Harry? Are you... okay...? ... Munchkin?” She asked, her voice trailing off. She dropped the towel she was folding into the basket, and she reached out like she wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him. She hadn’t touched him in the months that she had known him but she was willing to do it now. God, she would have done it earlier and for less. The anxiety that was laced in his features made her nervous. Her heart felt a heaviness seeing how upset he felt so evidently on his beautiful face.

The second his name left her lips, his mouth was on hers.

Harry felt whole. The anger was gone. Truly. It was like she transferred all that warmth, kindness, and peace right through her lips and into Harry’s mouth. It was like holding actual sunshine. He forgot everything. He didn’t think of work, his book, laundry. He didn’t think of Ava, Gemma, anyone or anything.

He was kissing her, that was the only thing he could remember and focus on and not one thing else.

They were lucky no one else was in the laundry room to witness their make out session. Harry’s lips felt like pillowy little clouds and his chapstick had a coconutty taste to it that offset the minty flavor of his gum. It made her dizzy to finally taste him. Her hands bunched fistfuls of his T-shirt against his sides.

His fingers slid from being curled into her hair on either side of her face down her neck leaving a wake of shivers and goosebumps in their path. He touched the outside of her hips and tried to guide her and lift her to sit atop the washing machine as she always did. But this time was going to be for an entirely different purpose.

She pulled from his lips reluctantly, causing a gasp of air to escape Harry’s mouth.

“Not here,” she whispered into his neck, her voice hardly carrying through the air.

She wasn’t wrong. Fucking in the laundry room was definitely not classy. She deserved classy and time. She needed everything that was good.

Also, it’s very wrong. His conscience reminded him. But Harry could hardly hear the irritating little voice.

“Where?” He hummed, his lips sliding down the side of her neck. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to lose the last of her coherent thought and she would end up doing something stupid with Harry in the public laundry room.

She pulled from his embrace, grabbing his hand and tugged him up the steps to the lobby. Harry nearly tripped on the last step causing her to giggle. They rode the elevator to the third floor, their hands intertwined with one another, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how perfect it felt. Their smiles and giggles escaped them like two teenagers hiding from their parents while they made out in their bedroom. The kissing ensued the second they were alone on the elevator this time she pressed herself against the length of Harry and he wrapped his arms around her back pulling her tight to him as they ascended the passing floors.

Arriving on the third floor, she pushed her door out of the way and almost immediately Harry had her backed against it, his body trapping her against the door. She felt so warm but Harry’s lips on hers made it all worth it. Her heart rate was the speed of a hummingbird. His body was so strong and warm. She moaned into his lips making him squeeze her toward him. He answered with a groan of his own. He pulled back momentarily to let them breathe but as he did his eye caught the photo of her, Niall, and who he assumed was her family. It was in a frame that said There is no place like home.

While she was kissing his neck, making his body hard and soft all at the same time, he smirked releasing a chuckle. “You’re going to laugh while I’m kissing you?" She mumbled into his skin in annoyance.

He laughed a little harder. “Oh, sorry, Sunshine,” he said and pressed a kiss to her forehead while she continued pecking along his collarbone that peeked out from his T-shirt. “Caught the photo there,” he murmured. She turned around in the circle of his arms. Harry wrapped them loosely around her waist from behind so she could look at what caused the distraction. As she looked over the photo herself, he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. The smile on her face that Harry could see sort of reflected in the glass of the picture frame, looked like one of adoration and love. Harry hoped she would look at him like that one day. “You’re so adorable,” he mumbled into her hair. “Why d’you like The Wizard of Oz so much?” He asked.

She pulled his arm from around her and tugged him toward her living area where the bookshelf displayed all the editions she had of her favorite book. Carefully, she tugged one version of it off the shelf and flipped it open to page 189, because of course she knew the exact quote she was looking for. All you need is confidence in yourself. There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. The true courage is in facing danger when you are afraid, and that kind of courage you have in plenty.

It was highlighted in yellow. Harry read it three times. Each time he read it, it felt like he understood her a little more. Each of the three sentences seemed to take prominence on each read through and the last phrase especially, made him think she was some sort of superhero.

While he read, he held the book so carefully in his hands. His finger brushing softly on the page as he pointed to the words. She watched his eyes scan the page almost as gently as he touched the paper. She could see he was digesting the words and it felt so vulnerable. This was her favorite book. Her favorite quote. The way he caressed the book was delicate; the moment was so fragile and made her feel so exposed.

“I don’t know what kind of danger you’ve faced, kitten. But I think you’re the most courageous woman I know.”

Her heart felt so full but weak at the same time. It was like Harry made her feel like she could do anything but that she didn’t have to because he would hold her the way he held her favorite book. It took every ounce of restraint in her to not shed a tear.

“Y’collect them?” He asked.

Clearing her throat, she was grateful for the distraction. She nodded quickly. “Yeah…I think it was a joke at first. Mom and my sister both got me a copy for my birthday. But then every time someone who knew me came across it, I got a new one. Then it was like...everyone we knew was looking. But we were all actually finding copies that were cool and stuff.”

Harry thought he would implode from how cute she was. He hoped to find an edition she didn't have. But even if he didn't, he knew she would appreciate the gesture all the same. He was glad there were people in her life who knew she liked the book. Glad that they appreciated her love for something so...pure.

So as not to say something crazy like he adored her and would buy any copy he came across for her as long as they lived, Harry looked at the remainder of her bookshelf. “Quite the collection of other books y’got, Sunshine,” he smiled bending down to examine the titles on the bottom shelf.

“I have another shelf in my room,” she said.

“Oh?” So, she showed him. There was a run of the mill copy of it on this shelf—she would put one in every room she told him. “It’s comforting, you know?” Harry didn’t really know. He didn’t feel an attachment to a book like that, but he was already obsessed with how comforted he felt around her. From the very moment he met her when she made his anger lessen, made him feel a little better than before he knew her. A little picture frame held a quote on her wall that read We’re not in Kansas anymore.

Then they started chatting about the CDs she had on another shelf. Which got them talking about music. Then she showed him the bathroom and how she found this nifty dispenser for toothpaste and mouth wash. "So I don't have to squeeze it in the middle," she joked. In her kitchen, they looked at photos on her fridge and sifted through recipes in a cookbook that she had written down. “I’m a little old fashioned sometimes. But I think cookbooks are cute,” she shrugged. Harry thought it was adorable, of course. Harry felt like he hadn’t laughed so hard in his whole life being in apartment 304. It felt like...

Well, it felt like there was no place like home.

Eventually a timer on her phone went off pulling them both back to the real world--her failsafe in case there was something she forgot in her apartment while she sat in the laundry room. Harry frowned as she shut off the alert and she turned back to him. “Gotta check on my clothes,” she whispered.

At the same time Harry’s phone vibrated: a message from Ava.

In the last forty-five minutes he completely forgot about Ava’s existence. “Ah,” he shook his head. The anger started to bubble in the pit of his stomach. “S’okay,” or maybe that was guilt.

It should be guilt. His conscience reminded him. That was bad. Even the regular part of Harry’s mind knew how terrible it was that he forgot about Ava.

He kissed another woman.

She’s probably my soulmate. He told his conscience. As if that would fix the problem.

You need to do the right thing. It answered simply. That he could agree with his conscience.

She fluffed her hair, fixed her shirt, and rolled those soft, warm, sweet lips he was already obsessed with into her mouth awkwardly. She gestured toward the door and Harry exited first. They hit buttons for the elevator, going in opposite directions. “I’ll...see you later?” She asked as the elevator alerted the pair of them the elevator was on the rise.

Harry nodded. “Yes,” that he was certain.

“Um...” she bit the inside of her lip and peered up at him nervously. It was sad and adorable all at once. She was perfect, stunning, lovely. Her mind was just as beautiful as she was. Harry thought her heart was unbearably kind and all he wanted to do was worship her and her sweet self.

Harry was an asshole.

“That was...nice,” she whispered softly. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he nodded in agreement with an awkward smile. His brain was starting to take back over again. “It was really nice,” he assured her making the relief on her face palpable. For that, he wanted the elevator to crush him.

The lift pinged with it’s arrival to descend back to the lobby. “See you around, munchkin,” she said quietly and kissed his cheek before she stepped onto the elevator. He felt sick to his stomach while he watched the doors close on her sweet, smiling face.

Finally. His conscience sighed with relief.

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#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #love and dryer sheets

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snapeaddict · 7 months

Text

Snapetober Day 3 - Path

Inspired by @sneverussape's headcanons

"You go down that way, ya walk for 20 minutes and then there's the factory right to your left. My pals' boys usually wait for us there. We come out at 5. I can show you the machines."

The tall man turned his gaze to the child by his side, waiting for an answer. As usual, the boy was lost in a world of his own; fucking nothing could be done to make him swap out of it for good. He shook his shoulder brutally.

"Oi, kid! You listening to me?"

Fearful black eyes met his, the very same as Eileen's.

"Yes, da'", Severus replied in a small voice, the kind his father found vaguely enraging for no justifiable reason.

Did he have to sound so girlish, so weak? Why couldn't he be like the other boys? He was already a laughing stock as it was. Too much brain like his mum, but unwilling to put his hands in the dirt, unlike her.

Sure, the kid did well in school. But he also came home all bruised. One look at him and you knew he was the one to beat up – he looked just like these poor lads on the battlefield, barely 18, crying for their mums in the midst of bombs everywhere.

Not one of them had made it.

The other boys, they came to try their hand at the machines, they went to the pub with their fathers, or to boxing matches. Severus read. He hated sports and never said a word at Church. He didn’t want to put his tongue in the glass of liquor like the other kids. If he came home dirty, it was only because he had been on the hunt for some animal by the river, or piking bloody weeds he stoked up by the side of the house. Might as well have come home with flower bouquets.

Tobias knew nothing about books, or animals, or plants.

Severus had nothing to say, to him at least. And Eileen, he could tell, secretly liked it. That he was different. Tobias hated her for that. She enabled him. When she looked at the boy, there was pride. Where did it come from? Why did she come alive all of a sudden?

He couldn’t make her happy, but Severus could, that was what.

In front of him and the boy, the path divided itself in two. The right side led deeper into Cokeworth, it was all black and dirty because the guys from the mine used it to come home – Tobias had been fired only six months ago. Disorderly conduct, they had said. More like they needed to cut their expenses. He didn’t like the dark and the loud noises anyway.

The left side of the path wasn’t used much. It crossed the river to the nicer part of town, there were mulberries and wildflowers growing over it. It crossed the bridge and led straight to a nice playground for the nice kids up there. Their parents would rather they play elsewhere, Tobias had heard. Nasty kids attending the only school in town was already an issue: no need for their spick and span offspring to mingle with them after school hours.

“You go home now”, he told his son abruptly. “I need to get to work. You can come by at 5 if you want.”

The bell rang at last. The guys put down their stuff and went outside to stretch. Their boys had been waiting there for some time already, playing football.

Tobias looked around, but saw no Severus. He had cleaned his machine thoroughly to show him. He watched as John’s kid sat on his father’s knees, dirty nails clinging to his father’s shirt. Severus never got near him like that. But that was good, wasn’t it? A boy like this didn’t need more coddling. Good spankings made for strong boys.

It looked nice, though.

He needed a drink.

He stumbled home and asked Eileen where the boy was.

“He’s not here”, she told him. “He left a bit before 5.”

He cursed under his breath and cracked another beer open.

He watched, leaning unsteadily against a tree, as Severus sat down in the grass behind a bush, at a safe distance from the playground. There were two girls there, a blond one and a redhead. The boy was looking at them with a sort of fascination that infuriated him.

Let him play with girls and lick the boots of the better off, Tobias thought confusedly. He'll learn soon enough that this won't make the world any kinder to him.

He turned on his heel, and never again cleaned his working surface at the factory.

#Trying something different #On the tragedy of father and son being strangers #And the sensing of secrecy #pro snape #severus snape #snapetober #snapetober 2023 #tobias snape #eileen snape #snapedom #severus snape fanfiction

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ghouljams · 4 months

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I hope your holidays have been fun so far, seasonal depression coupled with holiday related PTSD has been kickin my ass. You're Ghost fic hit me harder then expected reminding me of my first Christmas with my spouse's family and being surrounded by people who genuinely loved and cared about eachother. It truly is overwhelming when you grow up in a home with lots of screaming and fighting to spending a holiday with a family who doesn't expect you to perform for them.

My favorite part that really stood out was the "it's just stuff line" like with how duck uses it to justify not getting upset over something breaking on accident vs how, if I had to guess, Simon's dad likely used it as an excuse to breaking things on purpose. I spent way longer crying reading the fic then I will ever admit to. Ghost deserves to be happy damnit.

-Hot mess rambler

(ps I hope you start feeling better soon)

The "It's just stuff" line is echoed by so many people throughout the story and it feels like both the driving assurance of the mothers in Ghost's life and the failure of Ghost's own coping mechanisms. Both his mother and Duck try to steer him away from "crying over spilt milk" so to speak, but at the same time Ghost's father would've absolutely used it as a punishment. Similarly Ghost got rid of everything that tied him to his life with his mum and Tommy, they were just things and he figured it was better to get rid of them than try to hold onto the past when it hurt so badly. The problem of course is that things are never just things, humans always form attachments even when they know things are replaceable. Goose knows that, that's why she worked so hard tracking down photos for him, because it's not just things he lost it's people and those can't be replaced.

Also the accidents versus on purpose! You're right I think Ghost's dad absolutely was justifying breaking things on purpose and his mum would try to comfort him similarly. But it makes a difference how things break, whether it was accidental or targeted. Ghost accidentally breaking an ornament is different from his father smashing his mum's good china. Which I think Duck forgets to a certain degree, and why it hits Ghost straight into dissociation to hear the same words he heard his whole childhood echoed with a kind intent.

I could spend ages talking about my little thoughts on this fic tbh. I feel like I put so much into it and still didn't get to fit in everything I wanted.

I hope your holidays are better these days friend! I can guarantee that Ghost's holidays are

(I'm doing much better, put of the fever and into the snow)

#ghoul speaks #fic analysis

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nothingtoseeherebyeexx · 1 year

Text

Delicate, Chapter Two: …Ready For It?

same disclaimer as last time this is just for funsies and i’m not a writer !! also we’ve unlocked cissa and lily povs!!

CW: a bit of alcohol-related struggles

< prev chapter next chapter >

“Lily that was mental! You can’t just say things like that, especially in your situation! What if you get sued?”

“The money you waste on PR teams, I invest in lawyers!” Lily replied, dropping her keys on the table, an exasperated Alice following her inside their home.

“She brought up Snape,” Lily justified herself with a sigh, “You know how I get when they bring up Snape.”

They had just come back from Rita Skeeter’s show, and of course it had been a complete disaster: that woman loved to pick the touchiest topics during her live shows, banally exploiting private matters for views and publicity. That was one of the two reasons most celebrities refused to be her guests, the other being that she was generally a very unpleasant woman to interact with.

A right bitch, if you will.

However, Lily’s situation was…singular.

About a year before she had upset a few (many) big shots in the music and acting industries, gaining a lot of enemies and getting terrible backlash. It had been a horrible year, and thankfully her friends were there for her, but she wanted to get back on the scene. She wasn’t going to let some rich assholes dim her light.

So, of course, when Rita Skeeter had offered her an interview, she had accepted out of desperation. Like an idiot.

“She read one of Avery’s Tweets and you went crazy!” whined Alice.

“I didn’t go crazy-“

“‘How is Lily Evans still relevant? She only makes songs about Snape, he basically made her famous’ And what did you say, Lily?”

Lily bit her lip, remembering the moment with just the tiniest bit of shame. The smile Rita had on her lips while reading that stupid Tweet, the blind rage it had caused.

“Please remind me, what did you say?”

“Something mature and responsible, i’m sure-“

“You said, and I quote, ‘Just to let Avery Jr know, I was the one who made that bitch fucking famous’” Alice countered, eyebrows raised.

Lily swallowed. “…I didn’t say anything else though, did I?”

“Because they cut the cameras!”

“Listen,” rebutted Lily, sitting on the sofa in their living room and pulling out her phone.

“I may have implied that he’s gay but it’s not my fault if he finds that offensive! It’s his problem, really, and he can’t bring that up to court.”

“I think you should focus on the fact that you called Severus Snape a bitch, and that he would be a nobody if it weren’t for you,” countered Alice, taking a pot of peach yoghurt from the fridge. “I pity Longbottom, really: lately being your manager seems like a fucking nightmare.”

“Good thing he’s good at his job, then. He’s like part of the family now.” Lily looked up from her phone smiling, “You are the mum, he’s the dad, Marlene is the reckless younger sister and i’m the angry teen full of hatred for this world.”

“We’re both too young to be your parents, and he might be suspicious of his wife writing about women in her love songs, you know.” Alice smiled, taking a spoonful of yoghurt. “What are you watching?”

“Oh, it’s Narcissa’s last show,” explained Lily with a shrug, “She performed a few songs for a festival last week and I heard great things about a certain performance…apparently she’s been working with this girl for a few months, singing together. She’s been hiding a gem, that’s what her fans have been saying.”

“And how come you’re suddenly so interested in Narcissa Black? Didn’t know you were a fan of hers.” Alice got closer, leaning over Lily’s head to watch the video on her phone. She carried the faint smell of peaches and the weight of past personal issues in her voice, but Lily wasn’t going to pry. Much.

“I like her music, actually. But it’s this new girl that really piqued my interest. New blood, always exciting.” Lily paused the video and decided to push her luck, just a bit. “They remind me of us, you know: a younger singer, guided by a-“

“I’m not like Black. And you were already popular when we started living together with Marlene, so I don’t think it counts.” Alice cut her off, harshly, and started walking away. “I’m going to my room, see if I can write something.”

Lily silently accepted her defeat and swiftly changed topic. “Pizza tonight?”

But Alice had already gone up to her room, so Lily took it as permission to order whatever she wanted.

She had no clue what Alice’s issue with Narcissa Black was: in the three years she had been living with her, Alice had never given a sign of knowing Black, and Lily could’ve easily thought Alice had absolutely no connection to her.

However, the way Alice became quiet whenever Narcissa showed up on TV and how she’d turn off the radio when Black’s songs were playing indicated otherwise: in Lily’s opinion, Alice was trying really hard to hide her…hatred? No, not hatred-distaste for Narcissa, but her indifference was a too-long practiced craft for it to be genuine.

Lily thought that constantly trying to ignore someone counted as actually thinking about them, and she had therefore concluded that Alice Fortescue was mildly obsessed with Narcissa Black.

Marlene and Frank agreed that there was something going on between the two, or at least there had been, so Lily supposed she wasn’t just jumping to conclusions.

However, whenever they tried to bring it up, they were always shut off by Alice, and, as childish as it may sound, it hurt: Lily, Marlene and Alice had known each other for years, they had shared fears, hopes, secrets. They had never broken each other’s trust, and that was one of the fundamentals of their friendship.

So why was Alice so incredibly jealous of the corner Narcissa occupied in her mind? Was she ever going to let them in?

She would, eventually.

Or at least Lily hoped so.

In the mean time, she had a new singer to focus her attention on: an unknown girl named Mary Macdonald, who performed for the first time with the Narcissa Black, as the closing act of a festival that had sold out probably because of Black. The piece they were going to sing was a fan favourite, Born to Die, so the crowd’s expectations were extremely high.

This Mary Macdonald was either exceptionally confident, or completely mental.

But when she started to sing, Lily was immediately captivated. From the way she walked on the stage, to how she swayed to the music, to the bright smile on her lips when she wasn’t singing, it was impossible for Lily to take her eyes off her. For a few minutes, Mary’s voice seemed like the only real thing in the world, making everything else feel mundane, unworthy of attention.

Narcissa let Mary steal the spotlight, looking at her proudly like she was showing the world a ground breaking discovery. And she wasn’t wrong, because the girl sang for barely five minutes, and yet Lily was already starving for more.

How could Mary fear the eyes of a few thousands of people when she sang like the whole world was watching? How could she feel the pressure of being a guest on another star’s show, when she shone just as bright?

Lily didn’t need much more after that.

She opened her chat with Alice and Marlene.

lil evans: i’m going to sing with Mary Macdonald and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.

lil evans: and we’re having pizza tonight.

“Making her sing during that show was completely mental, Cissa.” Amelia was leaning against the desk in front of Narcissa, arms crossed.

It had always been hard for Narcissa to find her intimidating, since they were similar in both age and personality, so she was one of the few who weren’t affected by her signature Amelia Bones Glare. In addition to that, her mischievous eyes and Narcissa’s satisfied smile made the whole conversation feel more like two friends chatting casually, rather than a lecture about Narcissa’s…surprise song. Introducing Mary to a crowd like that had been a bold choice, but neither of the singers regretted it.

Narcissa and Mary had been working together everyday for two months now, 6 hours of practice daily. Narcissa was aware this rhythm was probably unbearable for Mary, who had another job, but the girl had been set on working her ass off to start thinking about her own album as soon as possible, and even when she eventually started working on it, she still spent a quarter of her day singing.

They even spent part of their free time together: considering how much Mary seemed to dread staying home and how discreet she was about her private life, Narcissa had the suspicion her family situation wasn’t exactly the best, so she had been inviting her over to her place as often as possible with the weirdest excuses to give her a distraction.

It’s not like Narcissa could have helped it, she knew what a shit family could do to a person, and she genuinely appreciated Mary’s company, too.

So much, in fact, that she had taken her to perform live for the first time as soon as she had the chance.

“You’re right, Mel, it was crazy. It worked, though,” replied Narcissa nonchalantly, bringing a cigarette to her lips. Thank God Amelia was also a smoker and allowed the occasional cig-breaks indoors, as long as Narcissa had to share. “It’s all the media has been talking about for the past two weeks. Besides, we are going to drop her album in, like, less than a month, some extra publicity can’t hurt.”

“It was her first time singing to an audience, and you made her jump on a stage in front of live cameras,” Amelia cocked her head to the side, eyes wide in amazement. “She could’ve fucked it up, and I wouldn’t have blamed her.”

“But she didn’t,” countered Narcissa, resting her head against the armchair. “Because we talked about it beforehand. Listen, that girl was born to perform, her place isn’t inside a small recording room. I wanted the people to see her for the first time at her best.”

Amelia shook her head with something vaguely resembling fondness. “You really do care about her, don’t you? Pass it.” Narcissa inhaled and handed her the cigarette. She exhaled and watched as the smoke floated in the air, light under the sun rays like a bride’s veil.

“Why did you even agree to introduce her to me? I didn’t know you had such a kind heart.” Amelia commented, eyes squinted towards the window. “Not that I’m ungrateful. I have a lot of hope in Mary. However, you didn’t strike me as the type of woman who wanted to be…a mentor, I guess.”

Narcissa was still watching the smoke leave the cigarette, head tilted back.

She still didn’t know why she’d let Mary into her home that night, months before.

She knew, however, that she hadn’t hoped to make it past 27, yet there she was, not too far from her 28th birthday.

Leaving her parents’ house and throwing herself onto new projects hadn’t magically changed Narcissa’s life for the better, and she’d also found herself completely alone. There was also the fact that she ended up high or drunk way too often to not consider it a problem, although in the past she hadn’t worried about it too much: many great stars died like that, and Narcissa wasn’t too bothered by the thought of joining them.

But then Mary showed up, with her determination and stoic audacity, so set on really owning her life, and made Narcissa realise how scary her indifference towards death was.

In truth, that night Amelia had answered her email almost immediately.

“The album is promising, but there’s a lot of work to do, Narcissa.”

“I know, but I swear, she has it. The spark, I-I felt it. I could help-“

“You have to be able to help, Narcissa. You know what I mean, right?”

She didn’t drink for five days, after that call. And on the fifth day, Amelia gave her a chance, and Mary officially became part of her life. Since then, there had been highs and lows: sometimes she went to Edgar (who was much more empathetic than Amelia, though Narcissa would never say that to her face), and he’d go to her house to throw away her remaining alcohol. Other times, when Mary was willing to drink with her, she let herself take a glass or two: Narcissa’s rule of thumb was drinking one glass less than Mary, and considering that the girl was still wary of drinking more than a few glasses or a couple of shots, Narcissa hadn’t gotten tipsy in two whole months.

“Narcissa? Are you there?” Amelia waved her hand in front of her eyes. Narcissa noted that the cigarette had disappeared somewhere.

“Yes, Mel. Was just thinking.”

“About?” Amelia asked, eyebrow raised, but Narcissa didn’t say anything. She didn’t like talking about her struggles, but Amelia Bones always seemed to read her mind, which was equally endearing and annoying. So, at the silence that followed, she said, “You’re doing better, by the way. Have you told-“

“I’m not going to tell her-“

“NAR-CIS-SAAAA” Mary barged into the room, eyes bulging and breathing heavily. Her arms were open wide, phone in hand.

“Ma-ryyyy?” Narcissa replied in confusion while raising her arms, mimicking the girl. Mary rushed to her and shoved the phone in her face with an excited smile.

“Som-someone just contacted me and you won’t believe-oh, Amelia, you need to see this, too!”

“Stay still, child, you’re moving too much.” complained Narcissa, squinting at the bright screen and wrapping a hand around Mary’s wrist to steady it. Amelia quickly moved closer, read the first few words, and immediately frowned. “That’s a name I haven’t seen in a while.”

Dear Miss Mary Macdonald,

This is Lily Evans, if the email address wasn’t a dead giveaway. I just saw a video of your performance with Narcissa Black, and I must say, you’ve instantly enchanted me. I could spend many words praising your incredible singing, but perhaps it would be more efficient to get straight to the point.

You may already know this, but because of certain circumstances last year, I completely disappeared from the public eye. I will soon make a comeback though, and I was wondering if you wanted to write a song with me to put in the album. Or we could write a single, however you prefer: to be completely honest, this is just an excuse to sing with you.

I’ll leave my phone number, in case you wish to reach out to me <3

Have a delightful day,

Miss Lily Evans

“What do I do, what do I do?” Mary asked leaving her phone to Narcissa and Amelia, their eyes still glued to the screen.

“Well, Evans has a big fan base, a collaboration with her would be great.” Amelia said, still analysing the email like it was a cryptic message from an alien.

“Do you also sense a flirty undertone or am I seeing things?” she whispered.

“I don’t know, maybe she’s just very informal and frien-no okay, now that you’ve mentioned it, I can kinda see it.” Narcissa replied just as quietly.

“Shoot your shot Mary!” she said, smiling fondly at the girl, who was covering her face with her hands.

“But first, consider that Evans has been in the middle of some drama lately. Despite her loyal fans, her reputation has gone to shit during the past year. You know that, right?” Amelia asked, standing up next to Narcissa’s chair.

“…Actually, I don’t.” Mary replied.

“How do you-“ Amelia whispered, appalled. “Well, I’ll send you some links so you can get what I mean. I had the chance to speak to her a couple of times, she’s a good person. A bit fierce and isn’t afraid of speaking her mind, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Amelia got closer and put a hand on Mary’s arm.

“I bet she’ll be a pleasure to work with. If you want I can contact her manager.”

Mary chewed on her lip, deep in thought.

“Fuck it, I’m doing it.” she snapped, getting her phone back from Narcissa, who let out a small ‘ooooh’ as encouragement.

“But I’ll text her myself. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

“I agree. You should also meet her in person, first,” intervened Narcissa, knowingly. “You don’t want to work with someone you don’t get along with. Two artists need chemistry.”

“Mhm…” Mary agreed, distractedly. “I’ll go, then. I just wanted to tell you first, I was absolutely freaking out-“

“Of course you were, it’s Lily Evans we’re talking about,” said Amelia understandingly, “Everyone knows at least one of her songs.”

“…Yeah,” commented Mary, with an unsure smile. “Yes, of course I do. Well, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The two women watched Mary leave the room, practically bouncing instead of walking.

“So, Mary and Lily…” started Amelia once the room had gone back to quiet, still eyeing the door.

“Apparently.” Narcissa already knew where this was going.

“You know she’s Fortescue’s girl, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“…Interesting.”

“I’m not even looking at you but I can feel your stupid grin. Stop it.”

The phone was ringing when Lily got out of the shower: it was rather late, and she wasn’t really expecting any calls. She didn’t recognise the number on the screen, but it wasn’t the usual Unknown Number that meant Snape was trying to get in contact with her, so she accepted the call.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, is this Miss Lily Evans?” greeted a voice on the other side, and Lily recognised with a smile the old-fashioned welcome.

“Well yes, could this be my dear Miss Mary Macdonald?” she replied, just as charmingly. So Mary wanted to work with her, despite everything…maybe Marlene was right, things were getting more promising.

“My my, it may just be her,” then she laughed softly, and it was such a pleasant sound Lily wanted to put it in a song, somehow. “Sorry, I broke character. Anyway, am I disturbing you?”

“Not everyone is born an actor, darling, and no, not at all-“ Lily scrunched her curls with a wet towel.

“Good, because I wanted to tell you I would love to write a song with you,“ Lily saw her smile widen as she looked at herself in the mirror.

“-But I’m afraid we’ll have to wait at least three weeks.” Mary concluded, sounding so sorry Lily couldn’t manage to feel too disappointed.

“Oh, it’s fine, I can be patient. How come we have to postpone our meeting? If I can ask, of course.”

“Well, you see, I’m working on-“

“LILY!” Marlene barged into her room screaming, her brown eyes open wide and blonde hair even messier than usual.

One thing about Marlene is that she never banally entered rooms, she always barged in, slamming doors open and announcing the motifs of her intrusion. It was a rather dramatic habit, but it always made Alice smile when Marlene appeared on top of the stairs, shouted “HUNGRY!”, and set the dinner-making process in action. Lily was just grateful someone in the house never forgot about meals.

“Marlene-“

“PETER IS BACK IN TOWN!” she continued, grabbing Lily’s shoulder.

“Excuse me, Mary, can you hang in there for a minute? I’ll be back shortly.” Lily explained, widening her eyes at Marlene, who quickly covered her mouth with her hands, surprised but not really apologetic.

Mary laughed, “Sure, no problem.”

“I’m sorry…” Marlene smiled as Lily muted herself, although she seemed more enthusiastic than sorry.

Marlene, Peter and James had known each other since they were kids, and being all separated for work matters (Marlene and Peter had always worked solo, while James had formed a duo with Sirius Black when they were sixteen), they were all overexcited when they had an excuse to see each other. The four of them together reminded Lily of those puppies that are perpetually either jumping, running or barking.

“It’s okay. So, Peter is back?” Lily smiled.

When Peter was younger, he used to be really quiet and shy, always getting dragged into trouble by James and Marlene first, and then Sirius, too.

Or at least, that’s what Marlene had told her. Lily found it hard to believe, considering how Peter acted now: he was comfortable on the stage, always ready to joke, in front of thousands of people or with his closest friends alike; he wasn’t necessarily the loudest at a party (that honour went to Sirius and James), but he was still a pleasure to have a conversation (and especially talk shit) with.

“Not yet, actually. He’ll be back this Saturday,” Marlene answered, biting back a smile.

“I bet Effie is hosting a welcome-home party as soon as he gets in town,” Lily continued, remembering how Mrs Potter always found opportunities to gather all her “kids” (as she had nominated James and all his friends) under her roof.

“Oh, it’ll be a big one this time,” Marlene confirmed. “She has already asked me to invite every living being I know. Wait, are you on the phone with Mary Macdonald?”

“Shit, I’m making her wait. Can we talk about this later?” Lily asked, bringing the phone to her chest. Nice first impression, idiot.

“Wait, wait. Invite her, too.” Marlene suggested, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I can’t ask her to come to a party all alone with a bunch of people she doesn’t even know-“

“Then ask her to bring Narcissa, too,” Marlene wiggled her eyebrows more aggressively.

It took Lily an instant. She gaped.

“You sick, sick bastard. Alice will be there. Shit will go down, you know?”

“Why? Alice and Narcissa don’t even know each other,” Marlene batted her eyelashes with an innocent shrug. “Besides, Sirius hasn’t spoken to his cousin in forever, they need to catch up.”

Lily licked her lips thoughtfully and brought her attention back to the phone. A formal party wasn’t the best setting to talk about work, but it was perfect for getting to know someone. And Lily really wanted to get to know Mary. She unmuted herself and brought the phone to her ear.

“Hey, before we continue, are you free this Saturday?”

that was all, hope you liked it and let me know if you want to be tagged when i post updates bc it won’t be that often lmao

#lily in her rep era #there’s another chapter before the party chapter(s) but i’m writing them rn and i’m having a lot of fun ngl #anyways #marauders #marauders era #marylily #mary macdonald #lily evans #narcissa black #alice fortescue #alicissa #nobleflower #marlene mckinnon #i need to find a title asap #so i can make a tag #fic: delicate

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theultimatenonbinarynerd · 1 year

Text

Death In Paradise And How The Show or Shows Have Unknowingly Made Beautiful Autism Representation An Eassay By An Autistic Person

Introduction

I never get this personal or sappe but hi I'm Mel and just recently I got my Autism diagnosis. Recently I've been trying to discover who I am and what parts were just lies after realising i have been making and trying to imitate and please people my entire life.

I started watching Death In Paradise at the end of Season 10 my Mum had it on the tv and I thought it was interesting so I started watching. I then watched the first Christmas special and fell in love even more before giving season 11 a watch. Really loved all the characters and especially loved the characters, the visuals and the mystery aspect. Infact it made murder mysteries/who dunnits become one of my special interests. Started watching Beyond Paradise and some of the earlier seasons with Richard Poole.

Two things have made me realise why I probably love Death In Paradise since I have gotten my Autism diagnosis.

1: I was discussing the series finale with a fan who has sadly but understandably deleted their twitter account about how all the DI'S especially Neville when he was flashing back to the scene he was arrested found myself relatable as I replay my memories like that.

2: Martha's breakup monologue as heartbreaking as it was to Humphrey because she's absolutely out of line since they could adopt but her gut reaction is absolutely right. She has treated Humphrey appallingly not communicating with him about his feelings till that moment and not being honest with Humphrey resulting in him being dishonest in return. I am a people pleaser and will often think about others happiness before my own and Humphrey impulsively agreeing to move to Shipton Abbott is a good example as he really struggled setting in. Martha is right Humphrey is awkwardly nice to everyone even the police commissioner who I would have no patience with.

Now I realise that I am invested in these shows not just for the mysteries and the who dunnit element but to see Autistic people like me have human struggles in a very stressful job.

Even though I'm on a very different career path to all the DI'S as an Autistic person I think all the DI's are Autistic and show their own unique struggles. This is why I fell in love with the character of the Doctor to. If the DI'S aren't cannon Autistic they're definitely Autistic coded and it's my headcannon and I'm over riding the bbc on this one because when we see the way Autism is represented on screen within other white male characters I can see that Neville, Jack, Humphrey and Richard ain't no Rainman or Sheldon Cooper or Good Doctor which is why I feel so represented through these characters.

So with from what I've seen I would like to break down each DI that has been on the show and essentially justify why I have head cannoned all of the DI'S as Autistic.

1: DI Richard Poole

There are so many things that make me think he's Autistic I'm up to S2 Episode 7 of Death In Paradise as I'm wanting to catch up and as soon as this man came on screen I knew that there was no way in heck that Richard Poole is just neurodivergent grumpy english man as Camille would put it. One of the episodes I related to was Season 2 Episode 5 because if there's one thing I struggle with as an Autistic person its giving people the correct comfort they need.

Which links perfectly to my first point.

1: Richard And Emotion

Constantly throughout the first two seasons we see Richard struggle to communicate his emotions and hide how he's feeling. When sad things come up in s2 ep 5 and when he's asked to hold baby Rosie for the first time he struggles to display how he's truly feeling and how best to react. It shines especially when he asks Dwayne how he comforted Camille. I think Season 2 Episode 6 and Episode 5 was the first time we'd properly seen Richard sort of embrace the sand and open up emotionally.

2: Sensory Needs

Similar to Neville he makes it very clear that he does not enjoy the loud festivals on the island. He seems most comfortable up in his shack secluded reading a good book and chilling out.

He also seems to wear no summer clothes on the island as despite the heat he only seems comfortable with suits. Personally I struggle with being in bare t shirts and shorts so I can definitely relate to the fact. Richard seems definitely like one of those people who doesn't climatise for the summer and will not wear coats in the winter.

Overall an absolutely amazing relatable character.

2: DI Humphrey Goodman

I haven't gotten to S3 with Humphrey yet but I can also see relatable Autistic Representation in him. This is all based on from what I've seen in Beyond Paradise Humphrey wants to please and get on with everyone so he often hides his own emotions and puts others first. I can also see that he stims, forgets stuff if there's a change in routine and burnout hits him hard. I think he was partly burnout as the falling out with Martha must have been quite exhausting.

Masking is a huge thing with Humphrey so in my head cannon I think people including Humphrey have dismissed him being Autistic as just him being quirky. In my opinion the beyond paradise finale and episode five showed just how much Humphrey represses his emotions and then when it comes to burst it's bad.

1: Masking and Socializing

Humphrey throughout the beyond paradise series constantly tries to hide his uncomfortableness with Archie being around and his feelings about Martha stopping IVF. I know he came around and was sincere in the finale but I honestly think he wanted to pretend he felt ok with it so he wouldn't lose Martha.

Social wise he is also very awkward with people and struggles to communicate what he wants them to feel. Fights and conflicts seem to also exhaust Humphrey. Talking to Esther in Episode Five he admits he doesn't know how to feel about Martha not wanting kids and can't stop thinking about it. Infact he's so distracted by his fight with Martha that he can barely help Esther with the case. I'm often overwhelmed with socialising and go away to relax and think things through is definitely a coping mechanism I use.

2: Stiming And Info-Dumping

A form of stiming I picked up from Doctor Who was flapping my hands about when I'm talking and rambling. Humphrey out of all of the detective's seems to do this the most even when not talking about the solutions to a case.

He also is very passionate when talking about his special interests. I also think the way in the beyond paradise series he pictures the crime in his head and relives it whilst explaining it to Esther is very not neurotypical I view memories and emotions in my head like that sometimes.

Overall a very relatable character regarding his social skills and his need to people please.

3: DI Jack Mooney

This is going to be very short as I haven't seen much of Jack Mooney due to the fact I'm on S2 of my Death In Paradise rewatch but even the three episodes I watched whilst it was rerunning alongside Beyond Paradise I got very not neurotypical vibes from him.

The episode where he's rooming with Dwayne shows his struggle to interrupt other people's emotions, read social cues and understand the right moment to intrude on a conversation. It's absolutely hilarious when he just walks in on Darlene and Dwaynes date without considering that it's not an appropriate time. Not to mention when he interrupted Dwayne from his shower.

Through all three episodes I saw I can tell that he really struggles with grief so Florence is a good friend that he can consol. She helps him realise what stuff might make the shack feel more comfortable and friendly, like having a record player etc.

If any Autistic DIP fans want to reblog this and share their own thoughts about why they headcannon Jack as Autistic.

4: DI Neville Parker

Ah Neville Parker a character that I can definitely see myself in especially after season 12. Although I started watching from half of season 10 I still have enough reasoning to justify my headcannon. The way Neville organisises his meds and takes rejection from other people shows. Although you don't have to be Autistic to experience and anxiety Neville from what I've seen definitely overlaps with both.

Similar to Richard he seems to really struggle with the environment but at least have the sense to not where his blazer all the time and change into island built clothes off shift. Season 12 shows that Neville has adapted so well to the island that if he was put anywhere else like a prison cell its nerve racking and difficult for him. Not to mention from my own experience I've switched off when I'm sad or when something too difficult to process has happened and Neville does just that at the end of S12 through the Sophie or should I say Rebecca situation.

1: Lack Of Red Flags + Social Cues

Season 12 showed that because of Nevilles desire to have a relationship with someone and get over Florence he was unable to ignore the red flags about Sophie until he was in jail for her murder. Ok I'm pretty sure not all of the neurotypical Death In Paradise fans didn't fall for Sophies scheme but like Neville I truly felt no bad vibes from her until the very end. I haven't seen the red flags till to late and its costs me my mental health.

Neville seems to really struggle how to communicate his feelings as also seen by his crush on Florence.

2: Stimming + Special Interests

Throughout the show Neville is very rigid he fidgets and waves his arms about enthusiastically when he has found out who the killer is.

Throughout the show we can also see that Neville is a passionate reader and loves Star gazing. He was absolutely thrilled to info dump about the famous star gazer that has been unalived. We see he struggles with stuff outside of his limits and will glady lovingly share fun fact with his team.

3: Emotions/Shutdown

As mentioned Neville tends to become quiet when he's upset and shutdown. We can see throughout the case in episode 8 he's not entirely there till he confronts Sophie for the final time.

Neville insanely loses his enthusiasm and energy after he's arrested. If you look back he does not instigate any of the conversations whilst he's in the cell unless it's Sophie. Most people would react screaming and yelling when arrested but Neville is just too shocked to move. As an Autistic person I've had a shutdown only once but I definitely relate that if I was arrested I would just be frozen in panic not wanting to upset anyone.

Being quiet seems to be one of Nevilles best coping skills when something immensely stressful has happened.

Again when he had that freeze frame recalling when he was arrested and who could have switched the keys it seemed very relatable and not neurotypical. Not to mention a lot of Autistic people have a high sense of justice which could explain Neds fearless anger and frustration at the end of Ep 7.

Conclusion

I think even if coded having Autistic representation that's not cis white man super intelligent with no struggles is impactful its also why I want a black or biracial DI on the show as it would be even more impactful.

Honestly all the DIS being Autistic or on the neurodiverse spectrum as a whole adds to alot of the fish out of water element of the show.

I highly encourage reblogs as i assume I'm not the only autistic or neurodivergent fan of the show.

-Melody-

They/Them

#beyond paradise #death in paradise #humphrey goodman #neville parker #richard poole #jack mooney #beyond paradise spoilers #actually autistic #neurodivergent

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mikeellee · 3 months

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Hi 👋

What are your opinions about mitsuki bakugo and what makes you think that she is a better mother than inko. I agree with you when it comes to this and I think shiggy had the best mum but I do just want you to go into deeper detail about it

Hi @bibibbon

First things first, I'm on my job right now (waiting instructions. I'm on my grace period) but I do have an answer for you.

I want to be clear I don't like the whole trope "slap on his head" even if is 100% harmless and comical. That being said, Mitsuki didn't slap on her son here bc she is EVIL and ABUSIVE. Bk was acting like an ass and she discipline him.

Yes, in real life such action would make people frown but like mha is not real. Plus, Asian moms can be like that. Hell, hispanic mom too.

"Behave or I'll use my sandals/chinelo on you"

I'm latina. I've seen rude kids being threaten by this to behave...hate or love, this alone is not indication of abuse. Its a way to make the kids not act rudely...in my time, there was spooky stories too. "If you do this, the monster will get you" you know? It's a tool. Not expert on motherhood but a mom disciplining her son is not always equal to ABUSE.

Also look at the image I shared...people are hanging up on hating Mitsuki for this panel but like ...her son is threating to beat her up. Look, BK has show to be rude with his mom (if he was being abuse...he wouldn't have provoked her)

*He calls her hag. What mom likes to be called that?

* I remember a short where Bk asks his father why he married his mom and then at the end he said "so you couldn't get rid of her" haha hilarious isnt it?😒 I think this one is in smash. I think.

Also...let's imagine this: IF she was abusing her son...what this adds to the story? Many fics use this trope to justify BK. "His mom was abusive" ok...and what about Izu? Is he not allowed to be angry? Is "Mitsuki is abusive" free jail card?

Also the fics NEVER gave us a reason as why this woman would abuse her son. "Abuse doesnt need to have a reason" I agree in parts, its just if you are to do a story like that usually has a trigger "she lost her job/lost her hubby/was abused as well"

Mitsuki has none of this.

"Why you think she is better than Inko?" Well, she does parenting! As much people may not like "the slap on his head" it's something. Inko does nothing!!!!

On the war arc 2 the eletrical bangaloo...Mitsuki is seen worried for her son "oh no. Its raining you know our son's quirk dont fare well under the rain"

Does Inko knows anything about her son's quirk? Nah. She just weeps and does nothing.

Like Inko is such shitty mom that she lives in an extreme scale. Either fics shows her as LE BEST MOM EVER (read a fic where Inko was OP and her son is still abused and still asks for her to not hurt "kaachan"😒) or the worst mom ever. (One where she was happy her son got a quirk so now she can gave a life. She is going out and is barely at home, in essence abandoning her son, bk calls her auntie and still abuses Izu)

Nao is the best mom. No questions here. I dont like how all the Shimuras arent important.

Also she and Mitsuki are good moms.

The mc ...is saddle with his abuser and a pretty neglectful mom.

Not of the implication "Inko was thin but thanks to Izu being quirkless she got fat"

I dont think Inko has maturity to be a mom...but I see her as a lonely person who wanted to have a family.

She is a pathetic and sad character.

But hey this is a fandom where people say "Shig is so deep" and sigh...what can we do?

#hori is a bad writer #izuku deserves better #inko is a bad mom #inko Midoriya critical #she being abusive didnt even contribute shit to the story #Izu is alone and hurt and no one cares #“mha should have been darker” my god it already is

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okay-letsdothisonelasttime · 1 year

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I'm back on that hunger games bullshit. Cause you know, the world is turning into a dystopion nightmare before our eyes, so why not consume media that showcases the hell on earth we are barrelling toward. And as always I have some (many) thoughts.

(This is long, but I needed to get it out of my head - sorry in advance if anyone does actually read it)

Gale is the worst - we all know this. He's manipulative, petty, short sighted and insecure. A great representation of fragile masculinity. But I'm only now coming to realise a lot of my dislike of the third book was largely ignited by his increased role in the narrative. Don't get me wrong there was a good potion of it that stemmed from being a (privilaged) adolescents at the time and thus unable to fully comprehend and empathise with the themes being discussed. But even at that age he was so unpalatable (and still is) that having to hear about him and his shitty behaviour throughout the story really undermined the complexity of the narrative (at least for me. Shitty unnecessary love triangle with a terrible man = loss of interest).

The third book is so much more interesting to me now (excluding fucking gale) that I have (experience with) comprehensive knowledge of mental health struggles (i.e. ptsd, depression, anxiety, panic disorders etc.). The way that finnick, katniss, haymitch, Johanna and of course peeta (and really all of the tributes) struggle with their truma, particularly in the third book, is very interesting, if horrifying, to read about. Especially when you consider the time during which this was written. Like yes mental health was being discussed more freely and with less stigma. But it wasn't the same open conversations we are having now, over a decade later.

There's so many small details from the books that I had completely forgotten about. Details that subtlety weave into the narrative and really intensify the characters, themes and political systems being represented. Things that make the capitol and their power that much more terrifying. Ideas that anchor the distopian themes more to reality and reflect the growing injustice and corruption in our own world back at the reader.

The books do a better job of representing katniss and peeta's age then I remember. Yes they have grown up with hardship, poverty, oppression and are therefore justifiably tougher and more comprehending then your average (privilaged) teen. But both show a level of naivety (for lack of a better word) throughout the books, particularly catching fire, that is a fundamental buy product and nessisary reminder of the fact that these are 16 to 17 year old kids. Forced into being the face, voice and engine of a revolutionary war.

While I once resented certain character deaths at the end of the series and questioned the motives and decisions made by individuals. I have come to realise (with age and experience) that it was so much more important for the story that it's wasn't contorted into some kind of palatable "happy ending" for fan service. The story would have never worked as a whole if it wasn't being brutally honest about the cost of change. Not just in the indicriminant loss of life (it could be your mum, your neighbour, your bully in school - just like it could be the unnamed character or your favourite protagonist). But the tax it can take on the mind, body, spirit and morality of the people who are fighting for it. Standing up for your rights, for your friends and families safety, for the quality of life of hundreds of unnamed people who you have never met will take a toll. And standing up against the oppression of yourself and or others will never be easy. And there's every chance you might walk away from that fight and no longer recognise yourself when you look in the mirror.

Anyway I'm sure there's so much more, but in conclusion 'the hunger games' aged like fine wine for the most part.

And while i understand why there was so much push back against it for the last little while. A young white women being represented as the savour of the oppressed because she was a figure head (at least for a large part) for the movement, while many grass roots organisations do the actual fighting on the ground. [Please see edit to add below for corrections]

I think overall there's a lot of political issues the book discusses well, which have remained topical and relevant enough that it still has a place in the current day. (Particulalrly with the distopian shithole amaerica is tuning into as we speak).

EDIT TO ADD: it has come to my addention that Kitniss was infact written into the books as a POC, likely either Native American or Melungeon. Something I didn't know, but makes a hell of a lot of sense, and I think is far more powerful when you consider her role in the series. However this does bring the white washing of her role in the movies to the forefront and opens up the issues of racial prejudice and lack of equal oppunity in hollywood. How visual media can very easily corrupt and alter our comprehension of literature. And why represention is so incredibly vital.

Because the reality is that, for me, having Katniss' role payed by a white women in the films completely steam roled and mentally erased the nuance of her characterisation as a POC women in the books. As I'm sure it did for a lot of young white teenagers. Which in turn emboldened a lot of (priviaged and white) people to participate in proformative activism. And subsequently led to the backlash that I wrote about above.

Thank you to @bluestrawberrys for bring the above issue to my attention so I could make the nessisary correction.

#the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #my thoughts #a reflection on the series #i have such different perspectives now than i did when i was 13 or whatever #it held up #for the most part #district 12 #the capitol #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #finnick odair #johanna mason #katniss everdeen #we live in a distopian nightmare #so why not read about it?

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thedreadvampy · 7 months

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I'm genuinely struggling so fucking much with what's happening in the world and I know that's pathetic cause it's not even directly affecting me but it's true.

like this isn't the first genocide in the world in my lifetime, obviously. but there's very little clear information or context available to me about China or Darfur, and I was so little (1-2 years old) when Rwanda and Bosnia happened that I don't know what it was to witness that.

and I have known about the ethnic cleansing of Palestine since forever. my grandfather was working in Jerusalem during the Nakba and my mum grew up with a rotating cast of Palestinian refugees in her house. it's been a campaign of genocidal intent for decades. but the massacre happening now is undeniable in a way it maybe hasn't been since 1948.

and I don't fucking know how to cope with it. like last month, different genocidal act, different country, in Nagorno-Karabakh. that's fucking horrific and seems to have passed under the radar for a lot of people. but at least in passing under the radar the British media wasn't populated with people praising Azerbaijan for its ~brave actions~ in ethnic cleansing.

this is not to suggest one is worse than the other and part of the horror is the stacking back to back of genocide against the Armenians and genocide against the Palestinians.

but fuck me it's grim to watch what is undeniably a genocidal massacre - Gaza has been without water or power for a week while they're being bombed, Israel gave 1.1 million people a DAY to evacuate half the region and then bombed the refugee caravans, they're bombing hospitals, there's allegations of white phosphorus use, 2,000+ people have been killed so far this week in Gaza including over 600 children - and turn around and see the entire political and media establishment in the UK equivocating and calling it "self-defence" and calling for the arrest of people protesting against this massacre.

like that Even Now as Israeli forces explicitly aim to bomb literally half of Gaza into the ground while 2 million people are trapped in Gaza, people will act like this is proportional self defence and not vengeful genocide.

Even with Hamas' attacks having the highest Israeli death toll since the Yom Kippur War 50 years ago, Israel has already killed almost half as many Palestinians again - 1,300 Israeli deaths leading to 1,900 and counting Palestinians, and that's rising constantly and hard to track as Gaza continues to be bombarded, cut off from communications, and press and UN officials keep. you know. dying.

How the fuck do you justify this as self defence or proportional response or anything other than a massacre? Hamas killed 1,300 people in a day and we can all agree that that is a horrific tragedy. But somehow Israel killing 1.5x as many people and displacing over 420,000 people while shelling them in a densely populated strip of land they cannot leave is acceptable?

at this stage you don't even have to consider the history of the situation (like that in the last 15 years, 5,367 Palestinians have been killed by Israeli forces and sellers in Gaza alone, while in the same time period 307 Israelis were killed by Palestinians in the whole of Israel. Or that the last time Israel and Palestine entered all-out war which Israel framed as retaliatory violence, Israel killed 30 times as many people as were killed by Hamas) to see the imbalance. like you should consider the context. But literally even if this came out of nowhere and if every terrible thing Israel says about Palestinians was true, this would not be proportional.

it's so fucked it's so fucked it's so fucked and I cannot bear how many people feel the need to both-sides this.

#red said

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wildissylupus · 1 year

Text

Here's another rant for you, Kiriko isn't a poorly written character or contradictory or unnecessary, people just generally don't understand the meaning of her lore.

The Age Gap

First thing I want to address is the age thing, more specifically people saying that it doesn't make sense that Kiriko and Genji could be close with Genji being 35 and Kiriko being in her early 20s.

As someone who has their dynamic with my cousins who I have the same kind of age gap, I (obviously) find this incorrect.

I've seen people act as though Genji took her to parties and stuff, but realistically, they most likely only interacted while Genji was at the Shimada house or while training. Also its been shown that both Genji and Kiriko didn't have personal connections outside of they're families or the clan until after the Shimada clan fell. So of course they would be close, they literally only had each other.

Not only that but as I'm writing this I'm reading the Yokai short story and on the first page it is shown that the Shimada brothers obviously treated her like a younger cousin/sibling.

That and her young age is actually a big part of her story, growing up being a main theme in her cinematic, and her age actually influencing a lot of her views. Which I will get into later.

Her Personality

I've seen people say that Kiriko's personality in game contradicts what we were shown in her cinematic. The thing people forget is that the ideviduals she interacts with are people she is close to, her mum and her neighbours which she either learned sign language for or she was just generally close to.

This is important to recognise because she doesn't know most of the cast of Overwatch. So of course she's not going to treat them the same way that she treats people she considers family.

Not only that but Overwatch specially did nothing to help with the power vacuum they created. They are literally the reason the Hashimoto have so much control now, of course she's not going to be overtly nice to its members.

Not only that but the three members of Yokai that we know are stated to be younger then Kiriko, teenagers. She's leader and she needs to act like it because if she doesn't, kids could die.

I think this is most shown in her interaction with Ana;

Ana: You remind me of myself when I was younger.

Kiriko: That a compliment?

Ana: You be the judge.

Kiriko: Okay, thanks for the compliment.

Her Interactions and Relationships

"I won't say the Shimada were perfect, especially at the end..." - Kiriko, Yokai short story

I've seen people say that Kiriko defends the Shimada clan while also being "too hostile" towards Hanzo. The line above disproves the first claim, Kiriko just sees the Shimadas as the lesser evil of the "Shimada vs Hashimoto". Not only that but the whole being "too hostile" with Hanzo thing can be justified by one thing, canonically Kiriko doesn't know the finer details on what happened to Genji.

The most she could know is that Hanzo killed Genji, that's it. And we don't even know if she knows that, all she could know would be that Genji is dead and Hanzo skipped town.

Not only that but because she doesn't know the finer details she most likely believes that Hanzo abandoned her family and Kanesaka, either for no reason or he abandoned the post he killed his own brother for.

I hate how people act like everyone would be fine with Hanzo, like, Kiriko has a right to be mad at him and be openly hostile.

As for her other interactions I do think that some are brought down by poor line delivery, that's it.

But as I mentioned before, Kiriko has no reason to be nice to an organisation who didn't help fix a problem they caused.

Her Role in the Story

I believe Kiriko was introduced in order to cause conflict in the Shimada storyline, because I'm tired of people believing that Hanzo's redemption would be an easy road. Realistically Kiriko, Angela and Cassidy, along with other Overwatch agents, would at the very least not trust him and at most despise him.

Just because Genji has forgiven Hanzo doesn't mean his actions still didn't have consequences and I think Kiriko will be an example of that.

I also think that she will be a driving point for both Ana and Cassidy's opinion that sometimes Overwatch did more harm then good.

Essentially I think her character is going to be a driving point for other characters until she gets her own arc, maybe in a mini/separate story campaign.

(I honestly love the idea of her getting an anime)

Her Voice (this is more of a theory/headcannon)

Personally I think her having an American accent is a result of her having to go into hiding after the Shimada clan fell. I believe she had to learn how to do an American accent so the Hashimoto wouldn't hurt her. Because they didn't really seem to know Kiriko in the cinematic and her having an American accent would throw people off of gaining the suspicion she was related to the Shimadas or her mother in any way.

It a reasonable assumption considering the Hashimoto literally kidnapped her dad and is forcing her mum to work for them.

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch headcanons #overwatch lore #analysis #kiriko yamagami #kiriko kamori #kiriko #kiriko ow

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touchlikethesun · 30 days

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a few informal thoughts on accent in written media and accent in translation

in light of a recent rb about dialect in haikyuu (which i recommend reading since i'm sorta responding to it but it's not required), i wanted to write down my quite complex thoughts about how "accent" is conveyed in written media, and how "accent" or "dialect" is translated cross-linguistically. it's really not a simple issue...

the biggest issue is that the very notion of an accent or a dialect as most non-linguists conceive of them is rooted in some form of bigotry, because there is almost always an underlying supposition that an "accent"/"dialect" exists in opposition to or as a deviation from the "standard." in written media, what that means is that some characters - often the main characters or the pov characters - have the privileged of their thoughts and words transcribed with standardised spellings and english teacher approved grammar (for the most part), and some characters - often but not always a character from a marginalised background or a character that is some way othered - are transcribed with intentional "errors."

(lmao readmore is deffo warranted this is a long one xx)

i want to give a very clear example of what i'm talking about, and i'm sorry to cite harry potter but it is a treasure trove for this kinda thing. also like... is it any surprise that jkr is particularly egregiously guilty of this... but anyways, look at that following passage from the philosopher's stone and watch the corresponding scene (hopefully the vid starts at the the part i want sorry youtube sucks)

“I'm a what?" gasped Harry. "A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be?”

youtube

now to my american ears, both harry and hagrid in this scene have noticable differences in pronunciation compared to how i might say the same lines - there are so many ways their speech might be written differently (from my pov; from a british pov i'm sure they'd have some changes to make in writing down my speech i'll never be free from the wodder boddle jokes).

what i think is particularly interesting tho is that harry says the word "what" twice in the clip, with two different pronunciations. the first time he says it, he actually doesn't pronounce the /t/ at the end of the word (in technical terms, it's an unreleased unvoiced alveolar plosive), and the second time the pronunciation of the /t/ is exaggerated for emphasis (a particularly aspirated unvoiced alveolar plosive). but this difference in the way harry says these two words is not conveyed in the text of hp. harry simply says "what."

i wish i had a more direct example, but a very similar sort of thing is going on when hagrid says the word "and," which he pronounces with an unreleased voiced alveolar plosive - almost exactly the same as harry's first "what" - but instead of "and" being written with standard spelling, jkr opts to replace the "d" with an apostrophe.

it's essentially the same linguistic phenomenon, but because harry is supposed to be middle class and from surrey, his linguistic quirks are not conveyed in the writing because he speaks "proper" english - whereas hagrid's linguistic quirks (in this case it is the same quirk present in harry's speech) are meticulously documented because he is working class and uneducated, and his language is deemed a deviation from the standard. harry's english is unmarked and deemed unaccented because his variety is very close to the enforced standard. and the "standard" is just the speech of the privileged classes. sorry that reasoning reads a bit circular, but it isn't supposed to be logical, it is in fact a very illogical line of reasoning.

a lot of times, authors will justify their choice to transcribe accents because accents are often integral to a character's identity. and i do not disagree that many people take pride in their accents or that accents aren't used as a way to index for group/regional identity. but the issue is, when are accents faithfully being transcribed and when are they assumed?

as an example of this, look at these two passages from another problematic author, cassie clare in the clockwork prince:

"You think I’m a fool,” Molly went on. “This is a trap, innit? You Nephilim catch me selling that sort of stuff, an’ it’s the stick for Old Mol, it is.” “You’re already dead.” Will did his best not to sound irritable. “I don’t know what you think the Clave could do to you now.” “Pah.” Her hollow eyes flamed. “The prisons of the Silent Brothers, beneath the earth, can ’old either the living or the dead; you know that, Shadowhunter." (tid.ii, prolouge)

and

"We’re in the Pyx Chamber,” he said. “Used to be a treasury. Boxes of gold and silver all along the walls.” “A Shadowhunter treasury?” Tessa was thoroughly puzzled. “No, the British royal treasury—thus the thick walls and doors,” said Jem. “But we Shadowhunters have always had access.” He smiled at her expression. “Monarchies down through the ages have tithed to the Nephilim, in secret, to keep their kingdoms safe from demons.” “Not in America,” said Tessa with spirit. “We haven’t got a monarchy—" (tid.ii, chapter 1)

i pulled these passages basically at random so maybe there are lines of dialogue that prove the point better (or disprove my point tho i doubt that, just based on my memory of these books), but in passage one, there are two speakers: an cockney woman from east london and a welsh man from an upper class background. i won't go line by line, but it's essentially like with the difference between harry and hagrid, where old molly has her shibboleths all written down whereas will is written with unquestionably grammatical speech.

in passage two, there are three speakers: the same upper class welshman, a lower middle class american woman, and a british-chinese (likely well off) man. we're told at certain points that will has a welsh accent; we can assume that tessa has an american/new york accent; i don't even know where i'd begin to describe jem's accent but it's probably not welsh or american. however, if you look at their dialogue, there is no way to discern any of these differences. their regional identities are all ostensibly important to them, as they are mentioned many many times in the narrative, but for some reason, it wasn't important enough to even make nods to their different accents? meanwhile, a random side character has their accent carefully laid out, dropped 'h's iconic slang and all? why? why is old mol's accent important enough to faithfully write down, but tessa and will's aren't? it couldn't have anything to do with classism could it...? surely not... (they say, with extreme sarcasm)

now, after all that. you might think my stance is that "accent" should never be written down because it necessarily involves classist/racist/otherwise bigoted judgement on what is marked and what is unmarked speech.

if only it were so easy.

honestly the biggest issue with jkr and clare's choices here is that it's so clearly coming from a place of ignorance and/or prejudice. there's nothing wrong with the way hagrid or old molly speak, and writing systems are inherently messy and inaccurate; there shouldn't be anything wrong with trying to more accurately convey utterances. before writing standardisation, people would just write what they thought a word sounded like, resulting in many if not dozens of accepted spellings for each word (sidenote: i've lost the email but i once spoke with someone that was attempting to reconstruct an older variety of english spoken in MA based on "spelling errors" in books from a small new england printing house it was a very cool project).

also, i am not african american so i can't fully speak to the accuracy of the AAVE, but i've seen discussion of how the AAVE and codeswitching in the hate u give by angie thomas was used to convey nuances in identity, and political realities in the US. the way people speak, the variety of language, and the attitudes they and others have towards that variety, are often extremely important narrative tools. as a black girl that also exists in white-dominated spaces, starr carter is aware of her speech and the changes she makes to fit in with white peers, but that doesn't mean that AAVE isn't a part of her, that it isn't important and valid. wouldn't it also be a bit disrespectful to write the AAVE in the hate u give as if it were standard english, when it is such an important part of starr's identity that it's not? AAVE is just as legitimate as a dialect as the dialect that starr's white peers speak, so on what grounds can anyone insist that it not be faithfully written down for its speakers? and lastly and most importantly, who am i, and who is anyone exterior to a linguistic community, to say how community members ought to write down their own speech/dialogue??

this is just one specific case, but i think when someone is writing from an in-group perspective, that changes things. it changes things immensely. there are so many reasons why a writer might choose to feature distinctive accents in their writing, and i don't think it's possible on their presence alone to make a judgement call on if the accent is being featured respectfully and/or with good reason, or if it is bigoted and unnecessary.

and this brings us to the somehow even more difficult question of what to do with "accents" when translating dialogue. not only do translators have to convey semantic meaning, they have to try to convey pragmatic meaning, cultural meaning, implications, and so on and so on. there is also the very important question of what is the role of a translator? i think that answer will depend on the individual, and unfortunately how one answers will have an impact on how they think translators ought to convey accent.

if the author of a text writes a character's dialogue from a prejudiced point of view, like jkr has done with hagrid, is it the role of the translator to dutifully convey the same (or as close to the same as possible) prejudiced implications in their translation? or does the translator have more of an editorial role, allowing them to convey the meaning in a way that won't carry the same connotations in the new language? does it matter what connotations were intended by the author? is the translator at fault for assumptions made by the audience of their translation due to the choice to convey an accent in one way or another? it is impossible to perfectly convey cultural nuances in accents so do we settle for the closest thing or do we forego it entirely and leave it up to something lost in translation? what about the translators own biases and prejudices, what do we do then?

honestly there are so many questions, and i don't have many answers. i err on the side that says the role of the translator is to be as faithful to the meaning of the text as possible, regardless of the translator's personal feelings about what is being conveyed. if an accent is being used purely for comedic effect, i do not think that the translator has the jurisdiction to say "well i think that's rude and ignorant so i won't include it," but at the same time, i think there should be multiple checks and balances, like sensitivity readers, that ensure that the translation is not introducing more prejudiced elements or pushing things even further than the source text.

what initially got me thinking about this was the post linked above about kansai dialect in haikyuu. the only characters that are written to not speak in tokyo dialect (otherwise considered the standard in japan) are the characters from inarizaki, a school in the kansai region. since they are the only characters to be explicitly written to be speaking a regional dialect, i would say it is probably an important - or considered an important by the mangaka - part of their characterisation. regardless of whether or not there should be cultural connotations to a particular variety is unfortunately not relavent in this instance.

i do think translators should not exaggerate the presence of an accent. from what i can tell from forums online, inarizaki's accents are pronounced but more than understandable, so i am liable to suspect some prejudice or mis-informed opinions when i see panels of the miya twins that are barely intelligible. but in general, i am of the opinion that translators should try and match as closely as they can the connotations of the source text, even if the source text is itself problematic. obviously there is not perfect choice. obviously a translation is never going to perfectly capture the original meaning.

in the end i guess these are two different discussions but i do think there is connection between the two. i understand the upset over egregiously translated accented dialogue, but at the same time, i do not think it is the translator's call entirely whether to translate it or not, however they do have a duty to at least try to match contexts as closely as possible. and as for the presence of accent in written media at all, it is really a case-by-case basis if i think it's being done well and with good cause or if it is just an example of ignorance, and i do think there should be room for nuance in this discussion.

come back next time when i ramble about how people write on the internet is a case study for how accent could be written in fiction lol xx

#some of the mutuals expressed support so i am posting #this is so long and honestly it should be longer #so if anyone has any questions comments or concerns #i am happy to hear them #linguistics #fandom linguistics #harry potter #the infernal devices #the hate u give #haikyuu #sociolinguistics #accents #translation

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g-xix · 2 months

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I gotta ask cuz it’s like lowkey blowing up in the US rn, but are you guys in the UK also going crazy over all the Kate Middleton stuff happening rn too??

OKAY RIGHT

it'll DEFFO be something some ppl are super up in arms about in the UK, but me personally? I just heard abt it from my mum n im not allat bothered tbh

for reference, the situation at hand is that (Princess) Kate Middleton's mothers day photo has been identified to feature editing on herself and her kids, which she herself has admitted, and many people are criticising her for it

My honest opinion?

I don't care.

But for the sake of arguement, I'll give two balanced sides for and against:

Loads of people are justifying her and saying that it's okay that she's edited photos, because 'don't we all'. Thing is, as part of the monarchy, she should really have more professionality with how she does it - these are literally representatives for England, Princess Kate, Prince Andrew, the royal family - being so blatantly obvious about photoshop just undermines the monarchy's credibility and ethos by presenting that fakeness to the public. Furthermore, I feel like there's a bit of hipocrisy within the monarchy fanbase (🤪) that support Kate for her photoshop - because let's reverse the roles - can you fucking imagine how the public would be treating Megan if she was found doing this? They'd ravage her online. Undeniably, a lot of the fans that are backing Kate are deffo j doing it out of bias, not genuine belief that the photoshop is fine.

Alternately though, it's true that a lot of people photoshop. And at the end of the day, we're all human - regardless of how much power we have - and if we want to metaphorically prosecute Kate for photoshop, why don't we hold this same energy towards bodybuilders and Instagram editors who photoshop their own photos? To be quite frank as well, whatever photoshop Kate has done, it clearly doesn't seem malicious. She hasn't edited herself skinnier, or photoshopped her kids to hide any flaws or anything... There's nothing triggering about the edits she's made, which contrasts the normal photoshop that we see on Insta + photo sharing platforms, where we (for example) see bodybuilders enhancing muscles and Instagram editors removing facial blemishes or enhancing their curves... Kate's photoshop's harmless, and isn't as triggering as other photoshop we normally see, so is it really worth prosecuting someone who's actions haven't even harmed the public?

All in all, I've said it once and I'll say it again - I couldn't give a fuck less.

Buuuut, that being said, it's important to see both sides of an argument, and those are the two sides I can identify

And Anaaye-bae, wdym it's blowing up in the US? Because that's news to me! I didn't realise the US was that entertained or interested with UK monarchy or politics - pls share whatall you're hearing over there, you've got my attention I'll b so fr

#WAFFLE!!#kate middleton #monarchy #photoshop

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hoedamn-eron · 1 year

Text

confrontation

Steven confronts Marc and Jake after you leave.

Warnings: Age gap, but it is appropriate/legal. Steven may be a little OOC, and incredibly judgemental of Jake. Some swearing. Inaccurate depictions of DID (only knowledge from the show and some light research). Angsty. I did not proofread this at all. Word count: 1,502 GN!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Set in my Doctor Steven Grant universe, after part 6.

Series Masterlist

Steven flinched as you slammed the door closed behind you. He stared in confusion long after your departure, before he took a glance at the small mirror where it hung on the wall next to his front door, where Jake was looking back at him with an unreadable look on his face.

He had the entire evening planned out. He was going to wine and dine you, with your favourite meal, the one that you mentioned your mum used to make you all the time. He was going to give you your favourite dessert, and the bouquet of peonies that he had stashed in his bathroom and ask you if you wanted to be official. Now…this has happened.

Steven didn’t know how to feel. No, that was a lie, he did. He was pissed; pissed at Jake for saying those things to you, pissed at Marc for not stopping him. Steven knew that meeting you had rubbed Marc and Jake the wrong way, that it would be too complicated for just one of them to be in a relationship, but he didn’t think that they would have gone out of their way to destroy what felt like the only good thing to happen to him for a while.

“What did you say to them?” Steven asked, looking hard at the reflection in the mirror. “What did you say, Jake?”

“Nothing, hermano, you don’t need to worry about it,” came Jake’s gruff reply.

Even after all this time, Jake’s rough voice still took Steven by surprise sometimes.

“Yes, actually, I do need to worry about it,” Steven snapped, still glaring at Jake’s reflection, irritated that his head mate didn’t seem all that concerned about the situation Steven was put in. Steven grit his teeth as he ran his hands through his hair, starting to pace around his kitchen, barely hearing Jake trying to justify his actions, Marc annoyingly silent. “Just shut up for a minute!”

“Easy, Steven,” Marc muttered, finally deciding that he needed to say something before Steven had a heart attack.

“Don’t tell me to be ‘easy’, Marc, when you and Jake have pushed away the only person that matters to me.”

“Whoa,” said Marc, and Steven could see him at the corner of his eye, holding his hands up in defence in the mirror. “I haven’t done anything!”

“Exactly, that’s the problem,” groaned Steven, throwing his head back as he collapsed onto his couch, a huge sigh leaving him. His body ached. His head ached, his heart ached. Everything ached. He raked his hands through his hair as he leaned forward, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

He wasn’t getting any younger. He was pushing forty and only had a goldfish as a companion, until he met Marc, then Layla and Jake. Although happy to finally feel like he had a group of friends that weren’t strangers painted as gold statues, at the end of the day, Steven was jealous, of course, that Marc got to live a life he’d always wanted for himself; to have a wife, and the start of a family. Then Jake came along and told his two head mates of the life he led, where he’d had countless flings and got to live dangerously (although Steven admitted that he’d prefer Marc’s way of living). They gave up Khonshu (after a stern talking to with Jake how he hid away that they were still connected) and Steven finally thought that he could live a regular life, maybe meet someone, make a proper career for himself. But Steven came to accept that he just wasn’t going to have the same experiences as Marc and Jake, and he was okay with that.

Until he met you. And you had lit up his entire world from the darkness that he had hidden himself away in. He thought that Marc and Jake would have been happy for him, that he was putting himself out there, something Marc had always told him to do, but evidently that was a problem now. He didn’t understand. You were amazing, caring, and so lovely, and now his future with you was fading away before his very eyes, all because his head mates, his supposed brothers, had driven you away.

“Why can’t I just have something for myself?” Steven asked, and Marc and Jake weren’t sure if the question was aimed at them. “Why can’t I have someone and be happy?”

“It doesn’t work like that, not with us.”

“You managed to have Layla!” Steven cried, looking up angrily at Marc’s reflection, where he was still stood in the mirror. “And Jake…Jake seems to have had everyone!”

“Hey!” Jake snapped, but he went ignored.

“I just wanted…I wanted to be loved. I wanted someone to come home to, someone who was pleased to see me, that wasn’t stuck in my head 24/7,” groaned Steven, burying his head in his hands. “And you took that from me. Why would you do that? Do you want me to be miserable?”

He was met with silence again. Steven sighed in frustration and threw his hands up, slumping back against the couch.

“You know it’s complicated,” Jake finally replied.

“I know it is,” replied Steven. “But you just couldn’t let things…happen, could you? You didn’t have to get involved! You didn’t even need to meet them! We could have just lived happily. I would have fronted and had a real, loving relationship where you didn’t have to be included.”

“And what if they wanted to get married?” Marc asked, a sharpness to his tone. “What if they wanted to move in? What then? How would you explain where you would need to go every night when Jake’s driving?”

Steven didn’t reply because he’d already had those questions himself. And honestly, he didn’t have any answers. He agreed that he had a naïve way of thinking that it would have worked out, but he had just wanted to give it a go. He’d found you breath-taking, and he just couldn’t let you disappear from his life without him getting to know you, even just a little bit. His heart made that little jump is always did when he thought of you, remembering how you just suddenly appeared that one day when he was sat with your friend in the coffee shop. And he just loved you, so much, and he never even got to tell you before Jake had stuck his nose in -

“Buddy,” Marc said, sensing Steven’s anxiety start to skyrocket. “It’ll get easier, yeah?”

Steven didn’t acknowledge Marc before he went about cleaning up the kitchen, now not even remotely hungry. Marc and Jake continued to talk among themselves, talking as if Steven wasn’t there (and he truly wished he wasn’t). Steven ignored them as he put the untouched meals in his fridge then walking towards the bedroom. Might as well put his pyjamas on, he wasn’t doing anything anymore.

He tried to watch his usual TV but it just wasn’t sinking in. It was nearly midnight when he decided to end the day, hoping tomorrow, after a night’s sleep, would give him a different perspective, that he’ll have an idea on how to make this mess up to you. He still ignored Marc and Jake’s quips as he turned the lights off and climbed into his still messy bed from that morning, double checking his phone alarm as he plugged it in to charge.

And just for a moment, he stared at his phone, the urge to text you overtaking him.

Was that even a good idea? Probably not. Did he give you space? Well, obviously, you had told him so when you stormed out. He couldn’t blame you, his situation wasn’t ideal and he wasn’t quite ready to tell you about Marc and Jake (and they weren’t exactly jumping at the chance to get to know you). You’re probably talking to your friends about his weird brother, and how Steven had no backbone when it came to being honest with you.

He probably deserved it.

Steven sighed as he picked up his phone, opening his texts to your thread before hesitating. What would he say? Nothing would make this situation any better. You had said you wanted your space and here he was, about to contact you. His chest hurt at the thought that you might actually want to end things with him after all this, and he’d go back to just being a professor at the university, second fiddle to Marc and Jake. Just another thing that he would have to come to terms with; that Steven Grant would never get to really be fully happy.

Steven bit his lip as he sent out an apology text you, sending it before he could do anymore stupid things. He threw his phone down on his bedside table, suddenly unable to look at it.

“You did the right thing,” Marc said quietly.

Steven rolled his eyes before turning to switch his bedside lamp off. “Shut up.”

Tagged - @kingtwhiddleston, @ahookedheroespureheart, @harrys-tittie, @avasif, @romanarose, @othersideoftheparadise, @mt2sssss, @milkymoon2483, @n0ripeaches, @theconsultingdoctor10, @brandyscorner, @moonliqhtszn, @classypeachlightsalad, @toracainz, @preciousbabypeter, @teacupcollector, @hot-mess-express1, @starkdanverss, @mintgreen24, @eonnyx

#moon knight #steven grant x reader #steven x reader #steven grant x gn!reader #steven grant #oscar isaac #professor!steven grant x reader #professor!steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #gn!reader

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