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luxaofhesperides · 1 year

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those who serve.

Running away from Amity Park—from his entire dimension—Danny takes refuge in the streets of Gotham. It's hard, suddenly being a homeless teenager in such a crime-ridden city, but it's better than dying a second time.

Enter Alfred Pennyworth, a kind old man who works as a butler who, for some reason, has decided to befriend Danny.

His future is still up in the air, but he's hopeful that things will work out. After all, Alfred isn't getting any younger and someone needs to help him with his butler duties. Danny's just the right person for the job.

Or: Alfred Pennyworth sees a homeless teen who looks like he'd fit right into the Wayne family and decides to take matters into his own hands. It's not like he's just going to leave this very sad, possibly meta teenager alone when there's more than enough space in the Manor to house one more child in need.

read chapter one on ao3 or below the cut.

Technically, Danny doesn’t exist.

He has no papers, no records, no family in this dimension. It’s a blank slate, a fresh start where he can be anything he wants. That doesn’t change what he is, however, and Danny is just another lonely child living on the streets.

In Gotham, he’s not a hero or a threat; he’s just another nameless face passing by, another teenager with no support system and no future. Just a figure clinging to the alley walls, head bowed and hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. It’s not great, far from it, but it’s better than the alternative where he—

—parading around in the corpse of our son! How dare you! Wearing his face won’t save you from what we’ll do to you! Leave Danny’s body so we can bury him, leave him! I’ll tear you ap—

This is better, is the point. Out of the frying pan and into the crime ridden streets of Gotham. Not quite a fire but close enough.

No one is hunting him down in this dimension, at least. He’s ignored and left to his own devices, wandering the streets only when the sun’s gone down and slipping into grocery stores after hours, invisible, to get a few things to eat. It sucks that he’s resorted to stealing to survive, but at least he’s surviving.

Survival is the entire reason he ran from his own dimension, after all.

He’s been here for two and a half weeks now, getting acquainted with the streets. Every day is spent hiding and trying to endure the crushing loneliness and grief of losing his entire life. He’s still half alive, yes, but the life he lived has gone up in flames, torn to pieces under his parents’ attacks. He can’t even blame them for it; under the circumstances, with the limited understanding they had, it’s only natural that they would try to kill him after discovering that Danny Fenton, their son, died two years ago.

Understanding doesn’t stop the sting of betrayal, doesn’t soothe the ache of being chased away from his family, but it’s something.

It’s all he has, these days.

There’s no one to hide from, no one who knows him at all, so Danny wanders, more ghost-like than he’s ever been before. People give him a wide berth at night, never making eye contact and walking by faster.

Save for one, of course. One person, at dawn, who always seems to find him no matter where Danny’s wandered that night.

He introduced himself as Alfred Pennyworth. The British accent caught Danny off guard enough that he stopped and turned to face the man, who stood a few feet away, umbrella held over his head.

“Are you quite all right, my boy?” he had asked. “I have a spare umbrella if you would like to keep from getting any more soaked.”

It took a few tries for Danny to find his voice after a week of not speaking a word. “No,” he rasped, barely audible over the rain, “I’m fine.”

He walked away without another word, thinking that was the end of it.

It wasn’t.

Alfred returned dawn after dawn, never staying longer than ten minutes, trying to make small talk with Danny.

Danny, for his part, had no idea why this random British man had decided to make friends with a homeless teenager, but figured that he was just a lonely old man with no family left. That, Danny could understand. So he’d stay for a bit, listening to him talk and occasionally replying, then say his goodbyes when more people began to emerge onto the street.

Two and a half weeks in, Alfred finally asks Danny for his name.

“Why?” Danny asks, shifting where he stands. He doesn’t exist here, but it doesn’t stop his instinctual need to run from anyone who goes looking into him. The GIW don’t exist here, no one is hunting him down. There’s no information about him in this dimension that can be used against him. It’s hard to remember that, not after he’s spent the last few years trying to keep ghost hunters from finding him.

“I feel it’s rather rude of me to speak to someone I have never properly greeted,” Alfred says. He always speaks so calmly, as if there’s nothing in the world that can shake his composure.

I don’t exist here, Danny reminds himself, I’m safe.

“Danny.”

“Danny,” Alfred repeats. “A fine name.”

“Thanks? It was my first birthday present.”

The stupid comment makes Alfred smile, just a little, so Danny calls it a win instead of beating himself up over having zero control over what his mouth says.

There’s more movement along the streets now, Gotham beginning to wake up with storeowners getting ready for the day and morning shift employees heading out to let the night shift go. It’s just about time for them to part ways until the next morning, and Danny’s resigning himself to another day of loneliness.

His short conversations with Alfred are really all he looks forward to. It’s nice to hear about the man’s time in England, his work as a butler, his opinions on American cuisine and the like. He never presses for a response and he doesn’t try to dig for more information about Danny. Just talks to him, then says his goodbyes.

“I’ll let you go back to your day,” Danny says, pushing off of the wall he’s been leaning against. “See you around.”

Alfred nods once. “Very well. I do hope you get some rest today, Danny. You always look very tired when we talk. I hope I haven’t been keeping you from sleeping.”

“Oh, not at all. I just have insomnia. Better to have some company than just lay around wondering why I can’t sleep, you know?”

“Indeed. I shall be off then.”

“Yeah, alright,” Danny says. “I’ll see you tomorrow once you somehow track me down again. Are you sure you don’t have magic?”

Alfred shakes his head with a small smile. “I am quite positive I do not have magic. Perhaps we simply have similar ideas about where the best places to walk are.”

“Sure,” Danny says, drawing out the word. “Whatever you say.”

Truth be told, the first few days, he was scared that Alfred was somehow tracking him down. For what, Danny didn’t know. Maybe he wanted to harvest Danny’s organs? Sell him to an evil scientist to be experimented on? Induct him into a mob?

Alfred didn’t do any of that. He just showed up, talked for a few minutes, then went on his way. He never followed Danny, never asked strange questions, never did anything besides chat about his life and his work as a butler.

It honestly was fun to listen to. It’s clear how much Alfred cares for his employers. Before meeting him, Danny had never really thought of butlers beyond being an outdated job for people too rich to do their own chores. Now it’s interesting, learning all the things a butler has to do and why Alfred chooses to do them.

He still doesn’t have a favorable opinion on billionaires. Too many bad experiences for him to view them is any unbiased light (thanks for that, Vlad, but eat the rich either way); still, it’s nice to know that this family looks out for Alfred. They give him a place to live, a family to live with, a reason to stay.

It would be nice if Danny could have those too, in any way that he could. He’s at the end of his rope, struggling to stay and not surrender himself into the Zone and be done with the living realm entirely.

Even his Obsession isn’t enough to sustain him. There’s no one to protect here; honest to god vigilantes patrol the streets of Gotham to keep it safe. Danny isn’t needed here.

There’s no place for him at all.

Already, his mood is plummeting and all he’s done is take a few steps away from Alfred. It doesn’t bode well for his future, whether that’s what’s to come in the next few hours or the next year.

Sighing, Danny ducks his head back down and begins his search for someplace to bunker down for the day. There are quite a few empty buildings around, newly constructed but not yet in use. He doubts there’s any security installed yet, so he should be safe to settle in and catch some sleep before the sun goes down.

Just as he turns the corner, he hears someone running. They’re behind him and he tenses, ready to disappear so they can’t get him.

It’s not Danny they go to. It’s Alfred.

“Hand over your wallet if you want to get out of here alive, old man!”

Shit, Danny thinks, spinning on his heel to get back to Alfred. He rounds the corner to see a mugger jabbing a gun at Alfred’s temple. He looks angry, nearly shaking, and there’s a strange shine in his eyes.

Drugs? No, not important. What’s important is that Alfred is standing still, as calm as ever, with his hands lifted in the air.

“Hey!” Danny yells, sprinting towards them, “Back the fuck up before I rip your tongue out!”

Fear and anger push him on, his Obsession whispering protect protect protect in his ear and he closes the distance between them.

The mugger barely has time to move the gun away from Alfred’s head, and no time at all to point it at Danny, before Danny tackles him, slamming him onto the ground. He rips the gun out of the mugger’s hand and tosses it carelessly to the side.

“Don’t touch him,” he hisses. Faintly, he’s aware that his features are shifting, becoming a little less human. The snarl building in his chest has his teeth sharpening, bared in warning.

The mugger trembles beneath him, thrashing weakly. “Alright, alright! Just lemme go! Let go!”

He doesn’t want to. Danny wants to hurt him for daring to go after Alfred, the one good light in the dark, the only person Danny cares about in this dimension. He wants to make this man regret his choices, make him terrified for the rest of his life, break every bone in his hand so he can’t ever pick up a gun again.

A hand drops onto his shoulder.

“That’s enough, Danny,” Alfred says. His voice is stern and Danny can’t help but listen, effortlessly pulled out of his adrenaline fueled rage. His humanity returns to him. “There we are. Come now, my boy, stand up.”

He stands. The mugger scrambles to his feet and runs away.

With the danger gone, Danny can think clearly again. He takes a few deep breaths and locks his ghost-half away as tightly as possible, keeping the cold in his chest buried deep. It was good for scaring away a mugger, but he doesn’t want Alfred to think he’s a monster.

He can handle a lot, but not that.

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking over Alfred for any injuries. There’s no telling that was done to him before Danny got the mugger away from him. It may have only been a moment, but Danny knows very well how quickly a moment can change a life (or take it away).

“Quite. In fact, I am sure you are in worse shape than I am, at the moment.” Alfred gestures downwards and Danny follows his gaze to his knees, where his already worn jeans have new holes in them. His knees are skinned from how hard he slammed into the ground, a dull ache he hadn’t noticed until it was pointed out to him.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I can barely feel it.”

Alfred gives him a hard look, as though he thinks Danny is lying; he’s not, the pain is barely there. He’s had a lot worse in the past. He can handle skinned knees easily.

“Well,” Alfred says, “Thank you for coming back to help me. If there’s anything I can do to pay you back—”

“No. I don’t… I didn’t do it for payment. I don’t need anything.”

“I would like to—”

“No,” Danny interrupts again. “No payment. I just did what was right. Don’t make this a big deal, please.”

Alfred sighs. “Very well,” he concedes, looking more tired and worn than Danny’s ever seen him. “I shall not keep you any longer. Until tomorrow, Danny.”

He looks as though he expects Danny to take the out, to leave immediately. Danny shifts, not meeting his eyes as he doesn’t move.

“I’ll walk with you,” he mumbles. “So no one tries to hurt you again.”

Danny’s worried that Alfred will insist on going alone, that he’ll have to go invisible and follow along when he isn’t wanted, but Alfred is kinder than that. Alfred doesn’t refuse or insist he go on his own. No, he smiles and thanks Danny for his consideration before taking off, making sure that Danny walks besides him rather than behind him.

They don’t talk much. Alfred seems to know that Danny isn’t much for words at the moment, sticking to his side and constantly surveying their surroundings for any danger. He walks confidently through the streets as though he wasn’t just held at gunpoint, carrying on with his morning with the same stubborn spirit that keeps most Gothamites from giving up on their city.

Alfred visits a small bakery first. They’re not yet open, but the owner props open the door when they arrive, waving them in.

“Alfred!” she greets cheerfully, “And I see you have someone new with you.”

She looks expectantly at Danny, who shifts uncomfortably under the attention. He can’t get his voice to work, can’t figure out how to get the right words out.

“Ah, yes,” Alfred says, smoothly drawing her attention off of Danny. “This is Danny. We often talk in the morning and he has decided to accompany me today.”

“I see. Well, it’s nice to meet you! I’m Yurica. Alfred and I enjoy some tea together in the mornings before starting with our days. Why don’t you join us?”

“I don’t… mean to intrude,” Danny manages to say before Yurica waves off his hesitant refusal.

“Nonsense! Any friend of Alfred is a friend of mine. Come, come, let’s get the two of you seated. You’ll get the first picks of the day, once I get the last batches out of the ovens.”

She leads them into the bakery, past the kitchen and upstairs into a small sitting room. Danny follows them, unable to leave without seeming rude. He joins Alfred on the couch, awkwardly perched on the edge as Yurica bustles around, disappearing down the hall.

Distantly, he hears the sound of running water and a stove top being turned on. The clinking of cups follows, along with the opening and closing of cupboards. It almost sounds like home, when Jazz was setting herself up for a long study session to make sure she’s prepared for college.

Without noticing, Danny relaxes back into the couch. He keeps his eyes closed, just listening to the movement around the building; it’s soothing white noise that chases away the constant ache of loneliness he’s been carrying these past few weeks.

“Quite the relaxing home, isn’t it?” Alfred asks.

“You come here every day?”

“Not every day, but a few times a week. We’re old friends and are often up before anyone else. It’s nice to catch up for just a few minutes, especially at our age.”

He wonders if this is what it feels like, spending time with grandparents. He never met his own, could never relate to the kids who were always excited to spend time with their grandparents over the holidays, eager to be part of a bigger family. It was fine, before, when it was just him, Jazz, and their parents.

It was fine.

It didn’t last.

Yurica returns a few minutes later, carrying a tray full of cups and a teapot made to look like a fat cat. The sight of it makes him smile, almost distracting him from noticing the way Yurica and Alfred share a Look.

“Here we are,” she says, setting the tray down on the table. She lays out the cups before Danny can offer to help, pouring out fragrant tea with a steady hand. “Cream? Sugar?”

Alfred adds cream to his own cup while Danny shakes his head, quietly thanking her for the tea.

He cradles his cup in his hands, savoring the gentle warmth while Alfred and Yurica chat. He tunes them out, letting their voices fade into background noise.

This is the most relaxed he’s felt in months. It’s sad to think about, so he tries not to, but it lingers in the back of his mind.

Time passes without him noticing. Danny sips his tea until his cup is empty, then sets it down on the tray. That seems to be a cue that Alfred was waiting for, long done with his own cup, and he stands, thanking Yurica for her hospitality.

She waves it off with a smile before Danny can echo the sentiments, then ushers them downstairs, where trays of freshly baked pastries fill cover the counters of the bakery’s kitchen.

“Here, take your pick!”

Danny’s about to refuse when she shoves a paper bag into his hands. “Go on,” she says, “Take what you like. I always offer to friends and I find refusal to be rude.”

Now that she’s said that, Danny can’t keep refusing or he’ll feel awful. Alfred is already picking out a few pastries himself, so Danny trails after him, taking three pastries that look good. It’ll be enough to tide him over for the next two days, so he won’t have to steal any food.

“Thank you again, Yurica,” Alfred says, “It’s always a pleasure to chat with you.”

“Oh, you’re always such a sweet talker,” Yurica laughs. “I’ll see you again soon, Alfred. And you, Danny, are welcome here whenever. Even without Alfred. My doors are open to you.”

Yurica is kind. She sees him in all his scraggly, worn down glory, clearly homeless and with nothing to offer her, and she doesn’t turn him away. Instead she welcomes him in solely because he’s here with Alfred.

It’s enough to have him blinking back tears, ducking his head so they don’t see how much this affects him.

“Thank you,” he manages, then hurries to follow Alfred out the bakery.

Yurica waves at them from the door as they make their way down the street, then goes back in to continue preparing for the day.

Alfred walks around some more; he informs Danny that he has no errands to run at the moment and no one else to visit. Danny follows, keeping an eye out for anyone who might think Alfred is an easy target. He barely pays attention to where they go until they enter an underground parking garage.

The weak lights and stillness of the garage, along with the fact that it’s almost entirely empty, makes a fissure of unease race down his spine. This would be the perfect place for Danny to be knocked out and taken away; no witnesses, no help.

But Alfred wouldn’t do that. Danny wants to believe that Alfred wouldn’t do that.

He stops when Alfred pulls out a set of keys from his pocket. A black car in the back corner of the parking garage unlocks with a quick flash of the headlights. That is… an expensive looking car. It’s not an obvious luxury brand or anything, but it’s high quality and clearly made for people with money.

Guess being a butler pays well, Danny thinks.

Alfred opens the door, but doesn’t get into the car. Instead, he looks to Danny.

“Will you be alright, Danny? If you’d like, I have a first aid kit in the car that we can use to tend to your knees.”

“No, it’s fine. Thanks, though,” Danny says, trying to keep from tensing up too obviously.

“And you have a place to stay?”

“Sure do,” he lies.

“If you ever need help, you are welcome at Wayne Manor.”

Danny nods, intending to never go to the manor. He’s not going to risk another rich person trying to either 1) kill him or 2) make him their son. No way. Not in this dimension.

Alfred looks him over, then nods. He gets into the car, offering Danny a quick goodbye. Danny lifts a hand in return, then leaves the parking garage, holding his bag of pastries close to his chest. More people are starting to fill the streets, starting the day, and Danny still hasn’t found a place to hide until night.

He’s kept Alfred safe during his dawn walk. He’s safely delivered Alfred to his car so he can drive to wherever he needs to go.

There’s no point in him sticking around any longer.

Hood up, Danny hurries down the streets, ducking into alleys to avoid being seen by people. It takes half an hour to reach the empty buildings he was considering before, and then just a minute to go invisible and fly up to the roof. The door going inside is locked, but a little intangibility goes a long way.

Danny makes himself comfortable in one of the many empty rooms, back to the wall, and pulls out one of the pastries. It’s not as warm as before, but it’s still soft and flakey. The glaze on it sweetens the bread and it’s the best thing Danny’s had since he first arrived in this dimension.

This can’t go on, he realizes.

All this squatting and stealing. It’s just not sustainable. He’s been acting as if he’s died again, left to haunt the streets of a city he doesn’t belong in. He’s spent all his time either sleeping or wandering, wallowing in his own misery.

No more. This is a second chance.

There’s no ghost hunters. No GIW. No need to be a hero when so many already exist, willingly taking on that burden. Here, Danny doesn’t exist, which means he can be anyone he wants to be.

And in order to live this new life, he’ll need a job. He’ll worry about school once he’s able to save up some money and find a place to live.

Step one to getting his shit together: find a job that will take on a homeless teenager who doesn’t legally exist.

He’s already got one in mind; Alfred does keep offering to help in any way he can, and he’s made working as a butler sound fulfilling.

Serving isn’t quite protecting, but it’ll be close enough that he can satisfy his Obsession.

The pieces are falling into place. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes this plan.

He’ll ask Alfred about it when they next meet. Everything else can wait until then.

(“Are you sure you’re okay, Alfred?”

“Quite,” Alfred says, smoothly stepping away from Bruce’s fussing. “Danny scared the mugger away before he could do anything.”

“I’m glad he was there. Are you sure I can’t go meet him? Thank him in person?”

“You’ll only scare him away, I’m afraid.”

Bruce sighs, reaching for his cup of coffee. “What about as Batman?”

“That will only be worse, I’m sure. Not everything can be solved by putting on a mask, Master Bruce.”

Tim enters the kitchen, drops a tablet on the table in front of Bruce, then collapses into his seat with a groan. “I can’t find anything on him. Are we sure he’s real?”

“I assure you he is very real, Master Tim.”

Tim lifts his head to give Alfred a bleary, assessing stare. “I know we always rag on B about his adoption problem, but he got it from you. You’re not going to stop until you get this Danny guy into the Manor, right?”

“It’s either that or setting up a home for him in Gotham.”

“Bring him here,” Tim says with a yawn, putting his head back on the table, “Now I’m curious about him, too.”

“I shall do my best, Master Tim. I shall do my best.”)

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc fanfic #danny fenton #alfred pennyworth #my writing #fic #chapter one of three!! dont ask abt an update schedule. i dont have one and never will #i just want alfred to adopt danny. he found danny first in this one!!#i mean. bruce had to get it from somewhere #and that somewhere is alfred taking care of a child who suddenly became an orphan and had no one else #its a family trait really #butler danny au #alfred's apprentice au

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musclesandhammering · 10 months

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Ok but the parallel of Gamora being a scared little girl on a planet that was crumbling and was being invaded by a cosmic fascist who killed half the people and kidnapped her from her family, raising her as his own and grooming her to be his weapon in his further fascist conquests

And Loki… being a scared little boy on a planet that was crumbling and was being invaded by a cosmic imperialist who killed half the people and kidnapped him from his family, raising him as his own and grooming him to be his weapon in his further imperial conquests.

Also: “Everything I hate about myself, you taught me.”

#I’m not saying it’s exactly the same thing but it sure as hell rhymes #I just wish loki was able to fully conceptualise his parental situation the way that gamora seemed to be able to #loki yeah he intellectually knows he was kidnapped from his home by the very man who was destroying it #and he knows he was meant to be a pawn his whole life #but the fact that he was younger than gamora when he was taken and didn’t have any memories of his actual family #combined with the fact that his family allegedly left him to die anyway #makes him sort of cling to Odin as a fatherly figure more than he would otherwise #just as a way to distance himself from his actual parents who he sees as even worse #does that make sense?#anyway #loki meta #loki #gamora meta #Gamora #lokimora #gamoraloki #not rly but tagging just in case #mcu #anti odin #something something something the majority of Loki’s ‘villainous’ character traits really did come from Odin

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aboutmercy · 4 months

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thinking about how dongsik and joowon are the inverse of each other. thinking about joowon's journey realizing that blood is not thicker than water, ties can be severed from abusive family members (no matter how painful that is) and that among many things, his father's cruelty is what took away and destroyed dongsik's family who actually were a positive force in his life. many things about beyond evil appeal to me, but i mainly want to put a pin on the central themes of the show, particularly the failures of adults and parental figures, how that ripples through the lives of their successors in an especially vicious and self-destructive manner. this is a commonality found between multiple characters in the show (minjeong, joowon and jeongje) - but i want to put emphasis on joowon's struggle with this because his path to freedom was walked to completion, in comparison to minjeong whose life was cut short and jeongje who we part with carrying the painful knowledge that he may never achieve absolution, as his journey has only begun.

the show, technically starts at the beginning of joowon's journey/arc. unfamiliarity and discomfort force him to adapt and self-reflect, because the only way joowon was able to free himself was by breaking every rule his father set for him, going beyond his selfish confines and breaking down the walls he built. joowon is unable to get his physical body dirty, he is emotionally closed-off and is incapable of understanding why the people in manyang, particularly dongsik, would look out for anyone other than themselves. he is selfish, rigid, guilt-ridden and bashful; but it is exposure to dongsik's unwavering faith in and patience for others (for jeongje, for sangbae, for the people of manyang that have wronged him for years) that erode his harsh edges. dongsik, although not without flaws and contrary to what his outer appearance and manner of speech radiate, is kind and forgiving. that kindess, that forgiveness, as well as joowon's own guilt and shame is essential to getting him to a point where he is comfortable bloodying his hands, his clothes, and his face to protect dongsik (+ jihwa and her partner. to protect his friends).

dongsik recognizes joowon's pain too ("i know what it's like to be blamed for something you didn't do"). he sees his guilt, it's not inordinate to what joowon's done per se but a large portion of it brings so much shame to joowon ("please, stop doing unnecessary things out of guilt.") how could i have been so self-righteous when the man who bore me is responsible for so much misery? how do i rectify this, how do i absolve myself from the guilt? all dilemmas joowon grapples with, and dongsik, knowing pain and shame all too well does not grant joowon mercy when he is bowed down, forehead to cuffed hands while joowon's own are also cupping dongsik's, begging for it. mercy is letting joowon go, it's lifting the burden of responsibility off his shoulders - but instead, dongsik’s final request ensures that joowon truly atones ("i ask you to arrest me" - "no, how could i do that? i have no right") by informing him that the only way to live with guilt is to try and do right by the people who expect something from him. "joowon-ah", dongsik says as he softly picks up joowon's clenched fist, the look they share informs joowon that going through with the arrest is how he'll do dongsik right. it's what dongsik, his now friend, expects from him. that's what their final scene as partners is all about, in my opinion.

and something good does come out of dongsik's firm but tender confrontation. joowon gradually becomes a better person who seeks community and whose life, in return, is enriched by the friends that forming community gave him. dongsik and joowon's parting is bittersweet, but in letting joowon know that his actions matter to others and that he is wanted and expected by others - (jihwa, as part of the larger collective whose feelings towards joowon are influenced by dongsik's, texts him and checks in - that expectation to show up and empathy for when he does not respond is an invitation letting him know that there is a place for him if he chooses to occupy any) - dongsik sets him free.

#god im sorry i dont meta on here often but i physically needed to let all of this out.#user aboutmercy is obsessed with the thematic idea of granting and denying mercy? oh im SURE #also. joowon was such an ass in the beginning lmao i love him so much......#if dongsik was any less crazy and any less generally patient and kind as a character trait then it would've been so over for joowon #the contrasts i've noted between jwds are abusive home/loving family - kind/really mean - confident/insecure..#i'll perhaps find more on a rewatch. but it's so interesting how different they are yet so fundamentally broken #that they couldnt have resisted being drawn to each other.#ds to jw: 'the depressed and obsessive man in me sees the depressed and obsessive man in you'#beyond evil #lee dongsik #han joowon #jwds #also. sorry if this is bullshit i’m just……. filled with agonies. bc i love han joowon #jtbc beyond evil

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eksarbel · 2 years

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- Mother -

#harry potter fanart #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #narcissa malfoy #narcissa black #hp fanart #hp au #harry potter au #the noble and most ancient house of black #draco malfoy fanart #eksarbel #eksarb #yes im going back to my roots aka the harry potter fandom #just had this really sweet idea of baby draco with white almost see through hair and then #also my headcanon says draco`s eyes are GREY and also his mother`s because its a black family trait #they all have those eyes etc etc

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scintillyyy · 2 months

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honestly, though. sometimes when the drakes are discussed it does seem a little "oh, they never would never do <insert terrible fanon trait here>, they just <insert a different trait they....also never really did and is actually kind of contradicted by canon? here>"

#honestly i'm usually fairly forgiving about the second because i'm sure i'm guilty of it too lmao #and it's also like. that's usually more of personal intepretation/reading thing which should have different viewpoints #variety is the spice of life and all #& i like defending the drakes AND talking about how they failed #but sometimes the thing that is confidently stated they do instead is something canon directly contradicts.#they never would force feed him something he's allergic to #they would just have super strict expectations of his behavior & not be affectionate #meanwhile the expectations are limited to don't wear a t-shirt to a wedding rehearsal and jack is shown hugging tim like every 5 issues #(and janet is dead and can have no expectations but the only time we see her she's like “you can be whatever you want to be sweetie :)”)#and they are shown having a very iconic outing with him and they treat him nice & want him to have a good time & are very loving #i too want to swing the pendulum the other way but that second one does apply to both good and bad traits lmao #“jack was just trying to get close to his son” well. no he really wasn't.#or “jack never cared about his son & never tried to listen to him” well that's not exactly true either #god i love them. my polarizing flawed family.

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localguy2 · 1 year

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Kai and Zane both literally have the same exact jackets

Absolutely in love with this because it meant at some point that:

A - one of them decided to get the same jacket for the other not not knowing what the other's sense of fashion is, so choosing their own jacket but a different color

B - it was a deliberate choice on their end by matching jackets

And the 2nd option is especially funny when you consider in how they're both opposites of each other, but are also very much alike

Opposites as in:

Kai, a hot head full of confidence who usually jumps into danger

Zane, a calm and collected person who usually chooses to analyse and plan before attacking

They are both literally opposite in elements, Fire and Ice

But they're also very much alike in the sense that they value their family a lot, to the point of putting themselves in mortal danger just to protect them, and if there's a threat to said family they are not stopping until its dealt with

#ninjago #zane julien #kai smith #These 2 have somethin going on in the background #It was Kai who gave the speech at Zane's statue #And it was Kai out of all people that Lloyd mentioned to Zane when he was the ice emperor #Thier dynamic in the show is also really fun overall #Especially in master of the mountain with Chancellor Kai and advisor Zane #Just overall 2 really great characters that work together really well when they're the only ones on screen #All I can hope for is the writers expand on these 2 and their shared traits more #Because there's a lot of potential for these 2 #Especially in the *family protecting* department

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fanfic-lover-girl · 9 months

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Pureblood Purists Actually Have Valid Concerns

Disclaimers

Before I start my post let me make 2 disclaimers since some people have a tendency to twist words on Tumblr:

Not all blood purists were death eaters. I am not condoning DE terrorism here. I am referring to people who held pureblood beliefs but never fought in a war to oppress people.

Harry Potter is a fictional world. My arguments are not meant to be extended to the real world.

Assumption about Magic

JKR does not specify the origin of magic. Is it like ATLA where it's a spiritual kind of thing and people are blessed by Lady Magic? Or is it a gene thing and wizards are a subspecies of human? For me, I am going to go with magic being a gene thing. If magic was like bending in ATLA then wizards should not be such a tiny minority.

Missed Potential of Umbridge Interrogation Scene

This post was inspired by Book 7, Chapter 13 – The Muggle-born Registration Commission. Specifically, the part where Umbridge is interrogating this poor muggle-borne woman named Mrs Cattermole.

‘Could you please tell us from which witch or wizard you took that wand?’

Umbridge's line of questioning is so ridiculous and JKR missed a golden opportunity to introduce some nuance here. She paints all purebloods who are not blood traitors as evil/bigoted. Just because this is a kid's book it does not mean she has to treat kids like idiots. Instead of painting purebloods as bigoted fools who believe magic can be stolen or sadists making up crack in this sham kangaroo court, she could have used this dialogue to present valid and ignored concerns of purebloods. Instead of crap like this, the Voldemort regime could be jailing purebloods who married muggles or mugglebornes on the count of them diluting their race. Or maybe firing half-bloods and mugglebornes and giving those jobs to purebloods. These actions are still wrong but at least they would be rational and add some depth. And purebloods have serious cause for concern. Let me point out 5.

Concern 1 - Existence of Squibs

In the books, we don't know the blood status of the parents of prominent squibs like Filch. But I bet the likelihood of your kid being a squib increases dramatically if one of the parents is muggleborne.

It makes sense to me that mugglebornes could be descendants of squibs. Making mugglebornes basically muggles who won the genetic lottery. In book 2 I think, Arthur claimed Granger was a historical wizard figure and asked Hermione if she bore a relation to him. She denies this but what if someone in the Granger family was a squib in the past and years later she got lucky?? So basically if you mate with a muggleborne, you are basically reproducing with a muggle. Which in turn increases the chances of a squib kid. Squibs can't function in the magic world properly.

Concern 2 - Wizards are a minority

Wizards are a minority in a muggle majority. It's a fact that minorities are wiped out when they reproduce with the majority.

Hagrid says this in book 2:

“Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It’s mad. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn’t married Muggles we’d’ve died out.”

If Hagrid is right and most wizards are half-blood, how is this a good thing? Given enough time, if wizards keep diluting their race like this by reproducing with muggles, the wizard minority will slowly be erased which leads to...

Concern 3 - Cultural Erasure

It's more than just blood dilution but loss of tradition. Even if a muggleborne like Hermione integrates into the wizarding world, she will never truly grasp certain customs and traditions that pureblood families like the Weasleys and Malfoys will. For example, I came to the US for college. Even though I have been here for half a decade now, I will never understand what it is like to grow up as a kid in the US. I don't appreciate US holidays like Thanksgiving and Memorial Day. My kid likely will but they will have to learn those customs from an external source or maybe my future husband's family. Someone like Hermione may even see some pureblood/wizarding traditions as archaic and unnecessary. Over time, wizards will lose their culture and practically become muggles with magic. Which is why Hermione being minister of magic sometimes leaves a sour taste in my mouth. There's a reason why only born citizens can become president/prime minister for countries like the US (I would like to believe there is a reason anyway).

Concern 4 - Reproductive Issues?

Also, why did wizards need muggles to survive in the first place? Were the women/men having fertility issues? Was the wizarding population so minuscule that they were inbreeding? Or were they simply just horny for muggles? If small native/African tribes are/were able to survive without reproducing with white invaders or other outsiders why is it different for wizards??

Concern 5 - Lack of New Blood

Still focusing on Hagrid's quote. Let's say every pureblood family started with a muggleborne wizard/witch. Therefore given enough generations, Granger could theoretically become a pureblood name like Malfoy or Weasley. But there's a problem: there aren't enough mugglebornes!

Read Hagrid's quote carefully. He said wizards would have died out if they did not intermarry with muggles. Not that wizards would have died out without mugglebornes adding to the population!

This further adds to my blood dilution argument. Basically, we have a fixed magical gene pool which is being stretched every generation with more and more half-bloods being popped out.

Conclusion

Pureblood purists have rational reasons to favour blood purity and to be frustrated with "blood traitors". As more pureblood families like the Weasleys intermarry with muggles/mugglebornes, there is an ever-smaller marriage pool for purebloods. Throw in cultural dilution too.

If JKR wanted to add depth to the muggleborne discrimination, she should have shown how mugglebornes are critical to the survival of wizarding kind and how much purebloods actually need them. Maybe show them using their muggle knowledge to improve wizarding society while she's at it too? But it's like muggebornes like Lily and Hermione have amnesia and forget all about their muggle background! At least make wizards reap the benefit of magic and technology to balance out the issues of reproducing with mugglebornes and muggles.

I just wish JKR could have given purebloods more of a voice. Not all purebloods are crazy, bloodthirsty DEs or Dumbledore bootlickers. And oftentimes, there are reasons behind discrimination that should be examined and explored, instead of just demonized. Harry Potter is seven books worth of wasted potential. I don't know how anyone can say JKR was excellent at world building when the wizarding world feels so tiny and incomplete.

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