#Is anyone involved thinking about the children that will be conceived through these means?

[coochiequeens]

How many scandals have to happen before proponents of surrogacy agree that there has to be more regulations?

NONTHABURI – Officers from the Crime Suppression Division apprehended the leader of a network that trafficked sperm across Thailand’s border into neighbouring countries. The sperm was utilised to impregnate Laotian and Cambodian women who served as surrogates for Chinese clients.

The suspect, 33-year-old Thiraphong Chaiyasuk, was arrested on February 24, 2024 outside his house in Nonthaburi province. He had been wanted on the basis of an arrest warrant issued by the criminal court in 2022.

The investigation began in 2017 when Nong Khai customs officials intercepted a shipment of liquid nitrogen containing six frozen semen vials intended to be smuggled across the border into Laos. The investigation led to the discovery of a large network of Chinese investors who were hiring people to smuggle sperm into fertility clinics in Laos and Cambodia.

The sperm was used to fertilize eggs from Laotian or Cambodian women who were paid as surrogate mothers. The children resulting from these pregnancies had the nationality of the surrogate mother, which could be used by Chinese criminal groups to launder money.

The investigation revealed that Thiraphong was a member of the network and led the team that smuggled the semen across the border. He had been on the run since 2017 and was hiding in Nonthaburi province when he was arrested.

Thiraphong confessed to being a member of the network and said he was responsible for overseeing the team that transported the semen. He said he had been doing this since 2014 and that he transported about 100 vials of semen per trip. He was paid 10,000-15,000 baht per trip.

Thiraphong said the reason why the network does not work in Thailand is that it is difficult to get approval and the costs are high. In neighboring countries, the laws are more lax and the costs are lower.

Thiraphong was charged with using others to bring or take prohibited goods out of the kingdom without permission” and “using others to illegally import or export sperm, ova or embryos out of the kingdom.

[marudol]

kabru and the dungeon lords

kabru is a very critical character to dungeon meshi for a thousand and one reasons, and not merely for his status as the point-of-view character in the story's b-plot. kabru represents the compass by which dungeon meshi's world works. he has big-picture motives that involve the entire world, much grander than the original a-plot of "let's save falin."

he is our classic hero, a character who suffered great personal tragedy and must ensure that no one suffers the same fate. as such, he is a great parallel for dungeon meshi's most integral characters:

the dungeon lords themselves.

🚨manga spoilers ahead.🚨

thistle

picture this: you are a child, separate from anyone else in the world who looks like you due to circumstances beyond your control. you are taken by pale-skinned adults who try to treat you well; who clothe you, feed you, and put a roof over your head.

it is not enough.

who am i describing - kabru, or thistle?

kabru-thistle parallels focus on their shared past as trans-racial adoptees. their shared experiences are not a universal one to all trans-racial adoptions in the dungeon meshi universe: the floke twins are treated well by their gnomish foster (grand)parents; allowed to be children while they are children and treated as adults when they are adults.

not all trans-racial adoptees are given the same courtesy. kabru was raised by an elf who infantilized him, even once he was fully-grown. milsiril did not always know what kabru needed from her, so she defaulted to treating him the way she would treat an elf his age rather than understand what his age meant as a tall-man.

by contrast, thistle was raised by tall-men. freinag saw thistle as a son and so he and delgal thought themselves as brothers. but as delgal aged and matured, thistle remained stagnant. eventually, delgal's relative age surpassed thistle's- but no one could even conceive of that, because thistle's numerical age made the tall-men around him treat him as an adult rather than a teenager.

they both feel immense responsibility for the tragedies suffered by their people. kabru explicitly believes there must be a "reason" he survived utaya and that the reason was to destroy the dungeons to ensure it never happened again, and thistle IS the reason the golden country survived their war, and why eodio made it to adulthood all.

kabru and thistle are characters pre- and post-accomplishing their goals. kabru has yet to assume total responsibility; thistle already has.

they must save them- they must protect them all.

[🩵]

marcille

once upon a time, a child lost a parent before they were ready to, and the trajectory of their life changed forever. desperate to understand, the child grew into an adult and dedicated themself to preventing their personal loss from happening to anyone else ever again. as a result, they looked downward into the dungeon's depths.

they will find the answers they seek.

who am i describing- kabru, or marcille?

marcille and kabru stand as important secondary figures to laios, our main protagonist. in the words of another excellent post, they are the heaven foils to laios's earth. where laios is grounded and thinking about the here and now, they have both identified big picture problems plaguing their world and pursue these goals with intense fervor.

however, these goals have been diverted by censorship. marcille cannot access information about historical ancient magic through traditional means and the elves won't tell kabru what happened to utaya's dungeon, so they both decide to go and do something with their own two hands.

entering the dungeon is a step towards their grander goals, which are both rooted in opposition to long-lived supremacy. critically: the solutions they come to are vastly different.

marcille's solution is very fantastical - "fixing" everyone's lifespans by making EVERYONE long-lived (though her original solution seemed to be more grounded; being a lord gave her the chance to indulge in the full fantasy).

on the other hand, kabru wants something more concrete and based in the real world. he wants to use the dungeon as a means to an end before destroying it entirely, whereas marcille wants the dungeon to be the end. hers is a magic idea borne about by escapism, while kabru wants to solve a societal problem with something tangible to improve the lives of the shorter-lived without resorting to the fantastical.

(note the similarity in these compositions!)

kabru and marcille are aiming for the heavens; they have chosen to act as stewards to bring about a better future for as many people as possible.

but eventually, they must crash back down to earth.

[🩵]

mithrun

a long time ago, a dungeon lord met their maker and the demon ate its fill, but failed to breach the surface. carnage and destruction was sown in its wake. in the aftermath, a survivor dedicated himself completely and utterly to the cause with no room for reproach.

the dungeon will be conquered. and if he has it his way, it will be conquered by his hand.

who am i describing- kabru, or mithrun?

if thistle represents kabru's past and marcille represents kabru's present, than mithrun represents one branch of kabru's future- and a rather bleak one.

mithrun has suffered great tragedy at the hands of a dungeon and, as a result, dedicated himself to be what he believes is his one remaining desire: to finally be consumed entirely. he thinks he has nothing else to live for, so he runs himself ragged every single day just to inch closer and closer at a chance to kill himself while pursuing his goal.

this great fervor is one that kabru artificially mimics long before meeting mithrun. kabru is willing to die for his goals. he does die for his goals. he thinks he is going to die without a chance for resurrection when he sabotages the canaries, which is why his 'last' thought is "it's up to you now, laios!"

remember: kabru believes his survival has to serve a purpose- his survival must have been 'worth it.' in order to make his own survival palettable, kabru dedicates himself entirely to the dungeon's destruction without long-lived intervention as a means to avoid repeating utaya's fate. kabru self-deprives, fails to care for himself, and he is constantly killed in pursuit of his goal to conquer the dungeon before people like the canaries can. while kabru has desires, he only indulges in the one that has guided him for over a decade.

functionally, he and mithrun are identical when they first meet.

kabru has purposefully deprived himself of his desires beyond ensuring another utaya doesn't happen again, and mithrun is proof of what happens when you follow that to its logical conclusion. however, over the course of their week together and the final arc of the story, kabru makes the choice to divert from mithrun's fate.

kabru looks into the eye of his ultimate goal, and in the culmination of his arc, ultimately refuses this destiny.

what do you want, kabru? are you hungry, kabru?

kabru indulges. instead of blindly following through the dungeon's destruction and sacrificing what he wants for the greater good, he wants, and he befriends laios instead of ending his life. he leaves mithrun's fate behind...

...and senshi- one of the most steadfast representatives of dungeon meshi's thesis- sets mithrun on a path where he, too, can learn to chase after newer, healthier desires.

[🩵]

laios

one day, a child was hungry for the answer to a question: "what is wrong with me?"

there is no satisfactory answer. a mother and a sister believe nothing is wrong, but everyone else in their small world disagrees. those eyes, that personality- something must be wrong.

but there is no recourse.

so, these children endeavor to focus on the world around them in ways that won't hurt them. one chooses to study and love humans, because humans are beautiful and complex and amazing. the other chooses to study and love monsters, because monsters are easier to understand and always obey one simple rule: eat or be eaten.

they double down on their interests soon enough. monsters have hurt one child enough, and humans can't get enough of hurting the other.

you know which one is kabru. you know which one is laios- dungeon meshi's fabled narrative foils.

laios and kabru are as textually close to being explicit foils as humanly possible. the first sentence of kabru's page of the adventurer's bible says it perfectly: "in every possible way, he's a contrast with laios. laios loves monsters, while kabru has an endless interest in humans" (56).

in basic terms, a foil character is a character with traits that contrast against another's, typically the main protagonist. this contrast serves to highlight the themes of the story, and we see that illustrated perfectly with laios and kabru.

where kabru has denied himself care, laios gives it to him without thinking. where laios believed no one could ever want to be his friend, kabru proves him wrong. the nature of nourishment and human connection are both critical foundations to dungeon meshi's story, and the main character struggling with human connection while his foil struggles with nourishment is no mistake.

kabru wanted to be laios's friend all along. the b-plot of dungeon meshi is driven by kabru's unconscious desire to understand and ultimately aid one inscrutable laios touden. the reason they cross paths at all is because kabru wants to meet him! he takes a chance when toshiro appears and sees his chance through.

but kabru doesn't realize it until he's already said it. he betrays himself, completely unaware that his supposed interest in the touden siblings skews a little more to the right than he could have possibly known.

killing laios would have been the ultimate preventative measure. he was yet to be dungeon lord, and with the canaries intent on handling marcille, kabru could have dealt with him right then on that cliff. but kabru doesn't take the opportunity because he doesn't want to.

he'd rather befriend laios than see him dead, and he takes the chance by the sleeve and doesn't let go until he is listened to.

and in the end, kabru is rewarded for his leap of faith: laios puts an end to the demon. laios has ensured that another utaya will never happen again.

laios saves the world.

all because kabru allowed himself to be selfish.

[kwillow]

I alluded to this fact in a previous question about Theo's preferences for companions: it really depends.

Read more because this got long... tl;dr: IT WOULD REQUIRE A LOT OF SQUEEZIN' AND THE JUICE WOULDN'T BE WORTH IT TO ANYONE IN-UNIVERSE WHO WOULD HAVE TO DEAL WITH HIM EVERY DAY.

Someone could exist who could, in theory, get along with him perfectly and be his ideal man/woman (which again, he doesn't even really know what that would be, so he wouldn't know it when he saw it), and they could start off on the wrong foot with him, set off a tantrum spiral and never recover his esteem for the rest of his life.

Even if someone who could be compatible with him was able to pick their way through the bear traps of his mind and get close to him, that doesn't necessarily mean anything would come of it. He can get infatuated easily, experience flickers of attraction - but he would much rather ignore those feelings than act on them in any way beyond just trying to be a good and loyal friend and benefactor.

And then, even if someone got close to him, and he was infatuated with them AND recognized those emotions for what they are (a big ask in and of itself), he STILL would not want to enter a romance because that would change the nature of the relationship, he doesn't know what to do in a relationship, and he wouldn't want to entrap someone in a relationship with him (Gods, the horror) or suffer the travails and indignities of romance because all his experiences tell him that eros is a corrupting force and always ends really, really badly.

So one could ask him to start a relationship, and the absolute best result would probably be a polite and firm decline with some blathering about the nobility of "unrequited courtly devotion," with the more typical result being a meltdown.

Effectively, one would have to stay close to him for actual years in close proximity without leaving for greener pastures than him (which one should) and maybe, maaaaaybe if the right mental dominos fall he could conceivably think of entering a relationship. Except in Amaranthine, he'd only want to do that with a childbearing woman because he feels he needs to have children to continue his withered, hollow excuse of a family tree. AND THAT WOULD START A WHOLE OTHER SAGA. ALL THAT ABOVE WAS JUST GETTING TO FIRST BASE, LET'S NOT EVEN GET INTO WHAT IT'D TAKE TO GET ALL THE WAY TO FOURTH. Anyone not able to produce more Norths would have a whole 'nother endurance test to slog through to work through his issues about debt to his family and legacy and all that nonsense. And would either path be worth it to someone? Performing years worth of informal therapy (not real therapy, he hates doctors!) on a messed-up guy just to get him to maybe agree to go out with you? Probably not!

To bring it back to the beginning, despite all I've written here, it all depends. I don't think I can write a rulebook or point-by-point guide for "how to get Theo to agree to date another imaginary person" because in the end, he is a fictional character and he is more beholden to what would be interesting for my partner and I to write and draw versus anything else. And it would depend on the setting, the characters involved, the circumstances that befall them, myriad little factors that could influence what feels natural for him to do. Maybe there could be an interesting story we come up with where he falls irrationally head-over-heels for someone and proposes the same day. He could also spurn all companionship and focus his attention on other pursuits.

So... if anyone is expecting any sweet blossoming love stories to come to fruition within Theo’s story in Amaranthine… the odds aren't good. I don’t have much interest in writing “romance” as a genre, only incredibly dysfunctional relationships as a vehicle to cause strife and comedy in fucked-up weirdos' lives.

[anthonybialy]

Woke Nonsense Defined

Arguing about how to classify decline will surely make agony more bearable.  Getting hung up on definitions is the closest those who spurred widespread woe come to caring.  Debate whether fire safety measures are adequate to distract from flames.

Anyone regrettably interested in politics is used to silly arguments based on preposterous boundaries.  Debating what synonym to use to describe the plunge defines our time a bit too well.  Events are uncooperative to the side imposing them.

The only thing more tiresome than woke beliefs is pretending we don’t know what they are.  Look at contemporary stringent intolerance for examples; you won’t have to search for long.

You’d think practitioners might be proud of normal humans noticing the results of the society they engineered.  Anyone who says they don’t know is as oblivious as the seething ideology itself.  I wish they were being disingenuous.  Things are surely going sweetly if that scenario constitutes the best case.

Particularly intolerant leftism is as easy to define as it is hard to presently profit.  The very tethered and loving members of the clan will read from their bibles to tell you it means they are really into helping their fellow humans.  Believing everyone else also needs to be coerced into caring is merely one telling sign.

Everyone’s angry while nobody’s laughing.  Being too scared to experience joy that’s gone missing was their goal.  Woke aligns with results in the same sense communism means collective assistance.  Adherents believe that adorable claim, as well.

All it takes to be anti-fascist is claiming so.  That’s such a relief, since the rather bossy mentality’s loudest foes sure seem to be fervent practitioners.  Irony is tough to detect while dodging muggers during sifting through trash cans for dinner.

Intimidating to shutter dissent sure sounds like what they claim to fight.  You’ll have to trust them that their foes are awful meanies who merely need to be subjected to their own tactics in order to let anyone allowed to speak be tolerant.  The only way to fight fascism is with the same, apparently.

They must be helping if they claim, as such kind experts know exactly what they’re doing aside from the things.  It’s illegal for your government to lie to you.  Officials only tell the truth, which is the benevolent burden of holding office.  It's not that someone as caring as Joe Biden could even conceive of uttering a word that went against absolute truth.  Claim it’s so even as the precise opposite occurs, which offers a good summation of liberalism.

Smugness surely distracts from outcomes.  Cruel conservatives don’t care about children after they’re born, claim those who were born and use what they consider a privilege to spread the curious view that society is obligated to take care of your kids.  The answer to stopping diabolical humans is inevitably gun control as guns are out of control where Democrats get what they want.

The most unscientific behavior involves claiming to believe in it.  Any objective experiment would detect irony.  Waging battles on behalf of experiments has not affected conclusions.  Stupid indifference is immune to influence.  Sucking up to test tubes doesn’t alter what science is, namely a process that disproves those who make a show of believing in it.

Semantics equal results.  At least, they better.  Otherwise, we’d all be broke without the opportunity to buy rare chicken eggs.  Other than the fact they technically inflicting the opposite of what’s claimed, the truth is real.

Everything’s going super as long as the words themselves count.  Don’t you believe in positive thinking?  It’s no wonder you’re so negative with your needless focus on things that are happening.  The sticky problem of how nothing they make others do creates pleasantness and in fact spreads woe like inflation hurts good vibes.

Reality doesn’t match up.  The stubborn refusal to align with what the White House claims stresses staffers, and they’re the real victims these days.  You say you like money, but then your dear president gives you all that you want and you ungratefully say that’s enough.  Next, you’ll stop requesting ice cream dinners.

Being told how rotten you are is a form of debating.  Connotations are not yours to set.  It resembles how you can’t control getting robbed on every block or how many tubs of gruel we can ration ourselves for the week.

Shrilly squealing about how evil foes are isn’t applied to menacing villains stalking pedestrians or free countries. Democrats would prefer not to draw attention to their outcomes.  Instead, the most compassionate vilify enemies who commit the crime of noticing.

Reversing progress doesn’t count as it.  Obsolete concepts like earning a living while strolling around cities are regressive.  We’re all in this together, I’m afraid.  Everyone’s poor, but at least they're unsafe.

Failure needs branding, which is why liberals are always bitching about what to call their ideas.  I didn’t say the answer was satisfactory.  Pretending they can change things with rephrasing is at liberalism’s core.  The unfulfilling philosophy dictates why they must argue about terms so vociferously.

The emptily cynical distrust advertising because out of the reflexive suspicion that everyone else lies about their products, too.  Practitioners are too busy shouting down enemies to start an enterprise.  It’s for the best, as shrieking is their only skill.

[cheerfullycatholic]

Like what @modestcatholiclife said, the answer is actually pretty simple, abortion is killing because its purpose is ending the life of a human being. It’s considered murder specifically because it kills a human being who has done no wrong; one who is innocent. Every question you ask after that has the same answer; it’s wrong to kill innocent human beings, regardless of the circumstances of their conception, their health, or how people perceive or value them or their possible future. Being conceived through rape doesn’t take away their value. Being disabled or having a short life expectancy doesn’t take away from their inherent worth as human beings who God created and died for. They’re our brothers and sisters, they deserve to be loved and protected and valued, too. Judging their value based on their parents financial stability or the circumstances that lead to their conception is such blatant dehumanization. No one deserves to be treated so poorly. God allowed their creation for a reason. They belong here just as much as anyone else. And since this was directed at Catholics specifically, I would love to share what the Catechism says about abortion;

2270 Human life must be respected and protected absolutely from the moment of conception.

From the first moment of his existence, a human being must be recognized as having the rights of a person - among which is the inviolable right of every innocent being to life.71

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you.72 My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately wrought in the depths of the earth.73

2271 Since the first century the Church has affirmed the moral evil of every procured abortion. This teaching has not changed and remains unchangeable. Direct abortion, that is to say, abortion willed either as an end or a means, is gravely contrary to the moral law:

You shall not kill the embryo by abortion and shall not cause the newborn to perish.74 God, the Lord of life, has entrusted to men the noble mission of safeguarding life, and men must carry it out in a manner worthy of themselves. Life must be protected with the utmost care from the moment of conception: abortion and infanticide are abominable crimes.75

While I think that’s a sufficient enough answer for all of your questions, I would like to talk briefly about the ones regarding mothers facing difficult pregnancies and situations that make their pregnancies harder, because they’re just as important as their children. Once again, the answer is simple; the solution isn’t killing; it’s support. There are many organizations willing to help women through these difficult times and with healing, whether emotionally or physically. There is no good reason to kill their children, even less with these support systems in place. One of the beautiful things about being Catholic is being part of such a beautiful, universal Church, one that cares about our communities and desires to help people regardless of their situation. As Catholics, we’re encouraged to help these women and their families in need through their struggles, and in no sane and devout Christian church does that involve killing preborn babies

Question for Catholics: Abortion/Pro-choice vs Pro-life Edition.

Why is abortion and Pro-choice considered murder?

Why should a child conceived through coercion or rape be forced to be born?

Why should a child with a severe disability be forced to be born?

Why should a child who has little prospects in financial and emotional support be forced to be born?

Why should a child who will not be loved and conceived through a mistake, be forced to be born?

Why should a woman who has been coerced/raped, be forced to give birth?

Why should a woman who cannot financially or emotionally take care of herself be forced to give birth?

Why should a woman with a disability be forced to give birth?

Why should a woman who made a mistake on impulse be forced to give birth?

[maglife17]

Unstoppable Perseverance - Achieving Your Dreams! Part Three"And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in the due season, we will reap if we do not give up." Galatians 6:9 Perseverance is a trait that can help anyone in life. It does not mean stubbornness or determination to do something out of one's will. It is not about going against the grain but staying true to yourself and your convictions. It means having the strength to keep going despite challenging times. It's about believing in God and trusting in His plan for your life because He knows how much you need it and how much it will help other people in their lives. According to Galatians 6:9, "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." This biblical verse emphasizes just how important it is to stay steadfast and consistent no matter what obstacles come our way. Remember, perseverance also involves turning setbacks into opportunities. With perseverance, one can find ways to recover after experiencing failure or disappointment. One must learn from mistakes and turn them into valuable lessons that will ultimately take them closer to their goals and ambitions despite the adversity they face. Joshua 1:9 says, "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." We are all conceived with ideas and dreams that can help us make a difference in this world, but only those who persevere through perseverance and have faith give birth and makes a difference in our lives. For example, Thomas Edison's idea of inventing the light bulb was born in an effort not to give up on his dream. That's why he said, "Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is to try just once more." You will never know what you can do until you apply perseverance and determination. I am sure you have heard the saying, 'if I could do it, I would be great.' I am here to tell you, "Just Do It." Start small and work your way up. You can achieve anything you set your mind to accomplish because Christ in you is greater than any obstacle that may stand in your way. He has overcome all obstacles and challenges in life, so why not believe that you can? If you want to become a better person, stop thinking you can't. I promise you that God will help you. 1 John 4:4 says, "You are of God, little children, and have overcome them because He who is in you is greater than he who is in the world." Prayer: 1. Thank you, Holy Spirit, for giving me the strength to face my fears and doubts. 2. Oh Lord, I cast my burdens of life on you; come and sustain my faith in Jesus' name. Amen. https://maglife.org/

[fozmeadows]

race & culture in fandom

For the past decade, English language fanwriting culture post the days of LiveJournal and Strikethrough has been hugely shaped by a handful of megafandoms that exploded across AO3 and tumblr – I’m talking Supernatural, Teen Wolf, Dr Who, the MCU, Harry Potter, Star Wars, BBC Sherlock – which have all been overwhelmingly white. I don’t mean in terms of the fans themselves, although whiteness also figures prominently in said fandoms: I mean that the source materials themselves feature very few POC, and the ones who are there tended to be done dirty by the creators.

Periodically, this has led POC in fandom to point out, extremely reasonably, that even where non-white characters do get central roles in various media properties, they’re often overlooked by fandom at large, such that the popular focus stays primarily on the white characters. Sometimes this happened (it was argued) because the POC characters were secondary to begin with and as such attracted less fan devotion (although this has never stopped fandoms from picking a random white gremlin from the background cast and elevating them to the status of Fave); at other times, however, there has been a clear trend of sidelining POC leads in favour of white alternatives (as per Finn, Poe and Rose Tico being edged out in Star Wars shipping by Hux, Kylo and Rey). I mention this, not to demonize individuals whose preferred ships happen to involve white characters, but to point out the collective impact these trends can have on POC in fandom spaces: it’s not bad to ship what you ship, but that doesn’t mean there’s no utility in analysing what’s popular and why through a racial lens.

All this being so, it feels increasingly salient that fanwriting culture as exists right now developed under the influence and in the shadow of these white-dominated fandoms – specifically, the taboo against criticizing or critiquing fics for any reason. Certainly, there’s a hell of a lot of value to Don’t Like, Don’t Read as a general policy, especially when it comes to the darker, kinkier side of ficwriting, and whether the context is professional or recreational, offering someone direct, unsolicited feedback on their writing style is a dick move. But on the flipside, the anti-criticism culture in fanwriting has consistently worked against fans of colour who speak out about racist tropes, fan ignorance and hurtful portrayals of living cultures. Voicing anything negative about works created for free is seen as violating a core rule of ficwriting culture – but as that culture has been foundationally shaped by white fandoms, white characters and, overwhelmingly, white ideas about what’s allowed and what isn’t, we ought to consider that all critical contexts are not created equal.

Right now, the rise of C-drama (and K-drama, and J-drama) fandoms is seeing a surge of white creators – myself included – writing fics for fandoms in which no white people exist, and where the cultural context which informs the canon is different to western norms. Which isn’t to say that no popular fandoms focused on POC have existed before now – K-pop RPF and anime fandoms, for example, have been big for a while. But with the success of The Untamed, more western fans are investing in stories whose plots, references, characterization and settings are so fundamentally rooted in real Chinese history and living Chinese culture that it’s not really possible to write around it. And yet, inevitably, too many in fandom are trying to do just that, treating respect for Chinese culture or an attempt to understand it as optional extras – because surely, fandom shouldn’t feel like work. If you’re writing something for free, on your own time, for your own pleasure, why should anyone else get to demand that you research the subject matter first?

Because it matters, is the short answer. Because race and culture are not made-up things like lightsabers and werewolves that you can alter, mock or misunderstand without the risk of hurting or marginalizing actual real people – and because, quite frankly, we already know that fandom is capable of drawing lines in the sand where it chooses. When Brony culture first reared its head (hah), the online fandom for My Little Pony – which, like the other fandoms we’re discussing here, is overwhelmingly female – was initially welcoming. It felt like progress, that so many straight men could identify with such a feminine show; a potential sign that maybe, we were finally leaving the era of mainstream hypermasculine fandom bullshit behind, at least in this one arena. And then, in pretty much the blink of an eye, things got overwhelmingly bad. Artists drawing hardcorn porn didn’t tag their works as adult, leading to those images flooding the public search results for a children’s show. Women were edged out of their own spaces. Bronies got aggressive, posting harsh, ugly criticism of artists whose gijinka interpretations of the Mane Six as humans were deemed insufficiently fuckable.

The resulting fandom conflict was deeply unpleasant, but in the end, the verdict was laid down loud and clear: if you cannot comport yourself like a decent fucking person – if your base mode of engagement within a fandom is to coopt it from the original audience and declare it newly cool only because you’re into it now; if you do not, at the very least, attempt to understand and respect the original context so as to engage appropriately (in this case, by acknowledging that the media you’re consuming was foundational to many women who were there before you and is still consumed by minors, and tagging your goddamn porn) – then the rest of fandom will treat you like a social biohazard, and rightly so.

Here’s the thing, fellow white people: when it comes to C-drama fandoms and other non-white, non-western properties? We are the Bronies.

Not, I hasten to add, in terms of toxic fuckery – though if we don’t get our collective shit together, I’m not taking that darkest timeline off the table. What I mean is that, by virtue of the whiteminding which, both consciously and unconsciously, has shaped current fan culture, particularly in terms of ficwriting conventions, we’re collectively acting as though we’re the primary audience for narratives that weren’t actually made with us in mind, being hostile dicks to Chinese and Chinese diaspora fans when they take the time to point out what we’re getting wrong. We’re bristling because we’ve conceived of ficwriting as a place wherein No Criticism Occurs without questioning how this culture, while valuable in some respects, also serves to uphold, excuse and perpetuate microaggresions and other forms of racism, lashing out or falling back on passive aggression when POC, quite understandably, talk about how they’re sick and tired of our bullshit.

An analogy: one of the most helpful and important tags on AO3 is the one for homophobia, not just because it allows readers to brace for or opt out of reading content they might find distressing, but because it lets the reader know that the writer knows what homophobia is, and is employing it deliberately. When this concept is tagged, I – like many others – often feel more able to read about it than I do when it crops up in untagged works of commercial fiction, film or TV, because I don’t have to worry that the author thinks what they’re depicting is okay. I can say definitively, “yes, the author knows this is messed up, but has elected to tell a messed up story, a fact that will be obvious to anyone who reads this,” instead of worrying that someone will see a fucked up story blind and think “oh, I guess that’s fine.” The contextual framing matters, is the point – which is why it’s so jarring and unpleasant on those rare occasions when I do stumble on a fic whose author has legitimately mistaken homophobic microaggressions for cute banter. This is why, in a ficwriting culture that otherwise aggressively dislikes criticism, the request to tag for a certain thing – while still sometimes fraught – is generally permitted: it helps everyone to have a good time and to curate their fan experience appropriately.

But when white and/or western fans fail to educate ourselves about race, culture and the history of other countries and proceed to deploy that ignorance in our writing, we’re not tagging for racism as a thing we’ve explored deliberately; we’re just being ignorant at best and hateful at worst, which means fans of colour don’t know to avoid or brace for the content of those works until they get hit in the face with microaggresions and/or outright racism. Instead, the burden is placed on them to navigate a minefield not of their creation: which fans can be trusted to write respectfully? Who, if they make an error, will listen and apologise if the error is explained? Who, if lived experience, personal translations or cultural insights are shared, can be counted on to acknowledge those contributions rather than taking sole credit? Too often, fans of colour are being made to feel like guests in their own house, while white fans act like a tone-policing HOA.

Point being: fandom and ficwriting cultures as they currently exist badly need to confront the implicit acceptance of racism and cultural bias that underlies a lot of community rules about engagement and criticism, and that needs to start with white and western fans. We don’t want to be the new Bronies, guys. We need to do better.  

[commander-hanji-zoe]

Can I please request headcanons for the vets (and Moblit) dealing with a s/o with tokophobia? It would mean a lot to me.

I'm so sorry this has taken a while to write/post, I've had moments where it's been a bit of a struggle but I'm so glad I did and I hope it helps a bit <3

Erwin

Tokophobia isn’t something Erwin has heard of before, but then he hasn’t really thought about ever having children nor spent any considerable amount of time with anyone who was pregnant. When his sister had a child, he had only seen her after the child had been born, so pregnancy and giving birth had never crossed his mind.

But when he finds out. To Erwin this is a fear which makes perfect sense, even if others saw it as an irrational fear.

Erwin would never put any pressure on his partner to either discuss this fear/anxiety nor for them to think about having children. The topic is completely left to his partner to bring up as and when.

Again, as Erwin is someone who hasn’t thought much about having children, I don’t think this would bother him in that sense – rather he would want to comfort his partner as much as he could and if they wanted children there are alternatives which he is open to.

Erwin would be very supportive of his s/o and reassuring that this fear doesn’t change how he thinks of them. What is important is that they are happy and safe and he will do whatever he can to ease their worries – whether this involves speaking to a psychiatrist or routine doctor.

Mike

I imagine Mike has wanted to be a dad since he turned 20, though, due to being in the Scouts, his loyalty to Erwin and the danger involved he never seriously considered that it would be a possibility for him.

So, when his s/o tells him about their phobia before the first time they sleep together he is taken aback a little.

I believe it would bother Mike somewhat, but not because of the thought he might not biologically be a dad one day. Rather it bothers him that his partner is going through this and experiencing this fear, he wants more than anything to be supportive and let them know it doesn’t change anything about how he feels about them.

Mike is always prepared, so contraception is not an issue or something that even really needs to be discussed. With Mike it’s a given that this is something he will always have to hand.

Mike is into looking at all options that will help his s/o feel better and learn to live with the fear/cope better etc. He understands there isn’t a quick fix or cure, but he will do everything he can to make their life easier and more comfortable.

If they are faced with a situation that may be triggering Mike will try to advert the situation without highlighting it or making a big deal out of it.

Mike is a believer of science and medicine, but he also knows there is a place for meditation or more holistic approaches. He will look into sound therapy for his s/o but also see if CBT would work for them. He is very receptive to ideas and happy to make small changes which will improve the mental well-being of his partner.

If his s/o did really want children later in life, Mike would be incredibly supportive and patient as well as being open to all options available. From therapy to adopting. To Mike an adopted child would be no less their own than one his partner had conceived.

Mike is into couples meditation and yoga – he will help to support his partner.

Moblit

Moblit doesn’t really understand at first, so it takes a little more explaining with him.

He also has a bit of a fear of children and being a father so a partner with tokophobia in many ways goes hand in hand. Due to this he’s incredibly supportive and does experience more empathy.

If children are something he and his partner decided on he would suggest going to therapy together and working through this as a team.

He may find the topic awkward at first and find it difficult to express in words how he feels about it, but he is there physically and through his expressions and small touches his s/o will know how much he cares.

If his s/o is finding the anxiety is getting too much, Moblit will bring blankets and yummy food and sit with them to talk things through and try to cheer them up.

Like the others he is open to options available and will accompany his partner if they want him to come with them to the doctors. He may not say anything but he’s very good at listening and picks things up quickly, so he’ll take lots of notes.

Moblit is very sensitive with the language he uses around his s/o and is careful not to say anything that may upset them or cause unnecessary stress. If the subject does ever need to be broached Mobilt will be very soft and gentle about it.

Full of love for his s/o, it doesn’t change a thing and he’ll let them know this.

Hanji

Hanji would be all for exposure therapy to be honest.

They see the titans as their babies anyway, along with the scouts themselves especially the young cadets. In many ways Hanji is already a mother and a father to so many cadets and will take anyone under their wing who needs it. This isn’t in any way meant to trivialize the issue, but Hanji has a unique way of thinking of things – and sometimes that is what their s/o needs.

Not always the best listener, not because they don’t care but because they will be so busy trying to think up ways to help their s/o that sometimes their attention will wane.

Hanji might suggest visiting the hospital and speaking to a few of the pregnant women or perhaps even attending a birth that’s being attended to by medical students. Hanji has a theory that the more you learn about it and expand your knowledge the less frightening it will become. They aren’t naïve and knows this could be incredibly difficult for their s/o and unlikely to change their partner's outlook overnight but they believe it’s worth giving it a go if it will help their s/o in the long run.

Also investigates the medical alternatives if their s/o really do want children such as discussing with your doctor and mid-wife if an arranged caesarean could be an option if the thought of this caused far less distress to their s/o.

Nanaba

So Nanaba gets it, she has some unresolved trauma and she too has some fears relating to pregnancy and having children.

When she finds out about this it’s actually a relief to her to know she isn’t the only one who has fears in this realm.

There’s a lot of hugs and tears to be shed, healing walks no matter the weather and meditation that her and her s/o will do together.

Nanaba would therefore be someone perfect to go to therapy with as she too would like to try and move on from this paralyzing fear. Hypno birthing is something she has considered and therefore it’s a project for her and s/o to research.

I could also see Nanaba as someone who may suggest some form of group therapy or a meet-up for individuals who struggle with phobias – and in doing so her and her s/o make some new friends and now have a support group.

She knows there is no quick fix for this and that it may be something they both have to live with forever. Nanaba is a realist but she’s also pragmatic and enjoys a challenge or a problem to be solved.

Levi

After how his own childhood was, Levi has never particularly had a desire to have children. Children have a tendency to make him anxious anyway and set him on edge and he certainly isn’t one for wanting to hold a friend’s baby.

But if his s/o was afraid of giving birth I think Levi would be incredibly reassuring and understanding.

He’s patient and although may not say a lot at times, he knows how to comfort his s/o when in need, what to do/say and if appropriate who to ask for help.

If his partner were to get pregnant and they decided to have the child, Levi would be there through the entirety of the birth to hold their hand and be there practicing any exercises they’d discussed previously to try and help with the anxiety and to calm you.

Levi would be good at thinking of ideas to distract his partner should they be spiralling into anxiety about childbirth. He has several routines he does to help them calm down or special places he likes to take them away from others.

Levi is surprisingly good at helping others to ground themselves.

Tea made from calming ingredients, of course.

Levi is also good at reading emotions, he’ll know when his s/o is feeling anxious and will be quick to react in the way he feels most appropriate. This may involve removing them from a situation or interrupting a conversation to change the subject.

[backjustforberena]

It seems we do! The curse of so much of it being relegated to a ten-year time jump we never get to see. We only have snippets to go on; lines, insinuation, impression. That means we get opinion, rather than objective fact.

Quickly, just to say - Harwin is not alive when Daemon and Rhaenyra marry. It's why people think Daemon might have killed him. For the series, as you say, Rhaenyra tells Daemon "it felt good to be desired". You can take that as you do, as something that is all there is. I sort of see it as tinged by Rhaenyra's headspace. She's never spoken to anyone about Harwin, which would suggest her guard is still up, so she's unlikely to confess the depths of any feelings. And secondly, this is Daemon, who she is currently trying to seduce (to be extremely reductive about it) and compare tragedies, so, again she's not going to be completely honest, just as he isn't over Laena.

And also, I suppose even if you do not call it "love" - it's still a ten-year-long relationship. It didn't seem to be one without strings or feelings on either side.

You're right. I don't think she found comfort in Laenor; she found no "joy" in any attempts to have children. He would have been in mourning during the time Rhaenyra wants to have those children and, in all likelihood, during the time Jace is conceived, as he is born fairly soon into the marriage (just sticking to show timelines). It's hard to try for a baby, but there's no sense that they did try for any long period of time or that, even during that period of time, it was a prolific attempt. It was "a few". Given the amount of time needed to establish a relationship with Harwin strong enough to have the affair, it's just... it's a very short window.

I hesitate to get into who's fault it is. I don't think it's fault, necessarily. I think it's bad luck, it's fate, it's things they didn't expect, it's a few irreparable choices and different priorities. I also don't particularly like to get into who it was worse for because they both go through the ringer in different ways. I do think that Laenor's pain is cut off and spoken about less, and misunderstood in people's explorations.

So I am just going to explain how I see it from his perspective. Not to absolve him of any role or guilt or compare him to Rhaenyra at all. Just to try and understand.

Laenor has, in this situation, no power. He moves to a place that is not his home, with no family and no friends. The love of his life is murdered and he's stuck. He has no political position - he can't support Rhaenyra on the Small Council. He has no rank to equal to Alicent to directly combat her, nor experience to combat any of the men who would undermine them. Extraordinarily for this period and world, Laenor is not equal to his wife or above her. She takes over as head of the "house". Not him, which would not be what he would expect and is very emasculating for him.

Rhaenyra soon gets involved with Harwin and so there's very little room for him to do anything. Be anything. He's not the father, he's not the closest man to his wife, he's not anything. His role has never existed before. Rhaenyra seems to use him when she needs him and discard him when she doesn't (i.e when she absolves him of any claim or right to name Joffrey, but blames him and calls them "yours and mine" when she needs him to do as she wants), and prioritises Harwin over Laenor as a long-standing dynamic. The children are legitimate for the Iron Throne but not Driftmark, going by blood. So they've succeeded in getting HER heirs but not in getting his. It's Rhaenyra that controls proposing Jace and Helaena, with no input from Laenor.

Laenor is subjected to constant and consistent rumour. Rhaenyra does nothing to help that; the children don't look like Laenor, there's nothing he can do about it. He gives them his name, that's all he can do. It won't stop the rumours.

Finally, Laenor's not in control of his own movements. She forbids him for leaving for the Stepstones for a few months, despite it making him miserable. And yes, that's to protect the children, but she departs for Dragonstone soon after, so any reasons for depriving him are gone. And he has to follow her there as well. Even if he'd wanted to stay in King's Landing. He has no choice. It's a kindness that he can bring Qarl.

How can he help Rhaenyra? Does he prefer drinking? Yes. It's literally the only source of relieving the pressure, the only outlet he has, when everything else has been frustrated. Laenor didn't go into this not wanting to help or be proactive. We get that from their walk, we see it when Laenor tells Joffrey to keep his voice down at the wedding. But something within him has died - he doesn't just drink for pleasure, he drinks to get numb. We see that at Laena's wake.

He comes alive again, following the death of his sister and the boys getting hurt and he repledges himself to Rhaenyra and to the boys that he loves... but by then Rhaenyra discards him again. It's a kindness, I agree, letting him be free. But what if he had said no? Could he have said no?

I don't blame Rhaenyra. She could have been smarter. She could have been kinder or more patient or more understanding. But likewise, I don't blame Laenor. He could have been stronger. He could have been more proactive and more aware. They're just flawed people in a bad situation and it all turned to utter crap. Helped along by the people around them. Maybe it was always doomed. Maybe it wasn't. But it is what it is. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

I hope all that makes sense. But I don't agree with the premise that the Velaryons were destroying her life. They didn't want her life destroyed, and she did her fair share of damage back. We're blessed with hindsight.

You know what? I hate Viserys and Velaryons more than the Greens. The greens were Rhaenyra's enemies. She knew it, we knew it. And Viserys( her own father!) and Velaryons were supposed to be on her side! But they destroyed her life just like the Hightowers did! That's why I can't stand them.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

So what do you think was going thru dumbledores head when he made that silly little puzzle for harrys first year? I mean, if a bunch of first years can get through it its really not very secure. Obviously most of fandom now think it was all planned (idk how the other teachers didnt question it tho??) and tailored to them but probably jkr just wanted a fun adventure for the first book right? But then it backfires and makes dumbledore look so weird lmao

I mean, you're talking to someone who thinks Dumbledore is a bastard man. You'd be better off, here, I think talking to someone who doesn't believe Dumbledore is... what I believe Dumbledore is.

To me, this is typical Dumbledore, he pulls this shit all the time. Pretty much every year.

What the Fuck Was Dumbledore Thinking

Dumbledore treats Hogwarts, the institution and population, much like he treats everyone else: as a pawn. Dumbledore is willing to risk student and teacher lives so as to draw in what he believes (with no evidence mind you) is the undying spirit of the dark lord into the castle.

He then proceeds to ignore direct attacks on a student (Harry in the quidditch game which he knew was caused by someone on staff as Snape's out there muttering counter curses), students almost getting very injured (Harry with the three headed dog and nearly getting eaten), and something murdering unicorns (about the most evil and dangerous thing that can be done spelling bad news for everyone).

He, in fact, allows Hagrid to send out eleven year olds into the woods during detention to hunt down said unicorn killer.

The next year, Dumbledore hires Gilderoy Lockhart, knowing the man is a fraud, in the hopes that Hogwarts will eat him (he cheers when, in fact, Hogwarts does).

Dumbledore then hires a werewolf, yes, Lupin's life sucks, but he hires a werewolf and thanks to this nearly three students are eaten/turned.

Then look at fourth year and... No, pretty much any action Dumbledore takes ever. This is what he does.

Using his entire staff/student body in a wild scheme to catch a spy? That's Dumbledore's m.o.

Okay But Why Did He Make it So Easy?

I imagine to make the staff feel like they were involved/on board. The only real protection the stone had was the mirror. The mirror is what would stop Quirrell and anyone else from getting the stone. Now, obviously Dumbledore needs a way to eventually get the stone out, so we had that weird loophole of (only if you don't want to use it/don't want it for yourself) and that did backfire a bit when Harry got all the way through.

But nevermind that.

The rest of the protections didn't matter they were a) meant to fool Quirrell/Tom into thinking there were protections b) an invitation of sorts to draw the spy in.

I'm... not actually sure it was intended that children could get through.

Dumbledore ultimately wanted Tom/whoever to get through and get trapped in that room. So it had to be hard enough but not too difficult to actually stop whoever really wanted the stone. If someone actually did their research into Fluffy/had a well rounded education they should make it to the end.

Unfortunately for the staff, they made the bar too low in part because they got lazy and used items they had on hand for classes (the devil snare) or went "eh, I'll make it a logic puzzle" (Snape). This backfired immensely.

What Did JKR Want?

Probably a fun adventure that the heroes could conceivably solve. But I'm not here for what JKR wants or thinks.

Conclusion

This is Dumbledore's thing and not the only time in the series it backfires either.

[arvinsescape]

Impossibilities.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this one, bit different of a topic to deal with. I have read a lot of stories of these things happening, I have put warnings in and if the topic is too much please don’t read. I will accept constructive critiscm. (I understand that what happens throughout this writing is not a reality for some but it is a work of fiction and I absolutely hold no intent to offend anyone.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, talks of infertility, language.

W/C: 5K... there may be typos.

You were almost in shock as you stared at the test in your hand. Impossible. There was no way that this was true, it couldn’t be, you’d been told as much. You furrowed your brows as you looked up at the doctor.

“This isn’t, this can’t be right.” You stumbled out.

“It is, we’ve tested you almost every way possible. You’re pregnant.” He confirmed and you still couldn’t work out how it made you feel.

You’d never considered this as an option, you were told when you turned sixteen that you couldn’t have children, that you were infertile. You struggled with bad periods and when you went to the doctors they ran full tests on you and that’s how you found out. You’d never thought about children, why would you have? The idea of being a mother wasn’t something you ever considered and now you were faced with it, well you didn’t know how to feel.

You were terrified, you’d come here today because you thought you were ill, not pregnant. You wondered if you were dreaming, you were so sure you’d turned your alarm off and rolled out of bed this morning for this appointment. It must have been a dream, there was no way this was possible.

The doctor continued to look and you and you looked up at him, you couldn’t speak, you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t even know how you should feel, let alone what to say about it. “Would you like us to call Mr Holland?” The doctor asked, he’d grown concerned over your quiet demeanor.

“No,” you shook your head. “He’s away.” You continued quietly.

“Would you like me to call someone for you?” He asked again and you shook your head.

“No, I’m okay. I just, I don’t know. I’d never considered this a possibility. Will it make it? The baby I mean?” You asked quietly and the doctor gave you a small smile.

“You stand the same chance as every other woman who falls pregnant.” He offered, it was almost a comfort to you, the worry setting in that you’d miscarry because you genuinely believed the universe didn’t pick you to have children. You nodded slightly as you stood. “You should talk to your husband.” He added.

“I will.” You confirmed, you just didn’t know how and when. You’d told him about your infertility early on in the relationship so you could save a broken heart down the line, save him getting his hopes high as the relationship progressed. He’d mentioned the idea of adoption, but it was something you both wanted to wait for and hadn’t fully decided if you were going to, what if this hindered the plans you’d made together?

Being a married couple who seemingly couldn’t have children, you’d planned your lives to work a little differently. It never involved a family in your mid-twenties. You’d been with him for three years, married six months and now you were about to become parents. Where would this leave you?

You suddenly felt guilty, you were part of an extraordinarily rare group of women. Shouldn’t you be jumping for joy? Maybe you would be if you weren’t so shocked. You hadn’t exactly been trying, of course you’d gone three years having unprotected sex with no birth control but there was never any need. You were never doing it for the purpose of procreating. You didn’t even track your period, that’s how much you believed you couldn’t conceive.

You made your way out of the doctors, sitting in your car as you pressed your forehead against the steering wheel. You debated telling Tom your appointment was over but ultimately decided not to. He was only an hour ahead of you from where he was filming, you knew he’d be waiting for your text or call but you weren’t ready to have the conversation, you still had a lot to process first. The drive home was almost a blur, making your way back to your shared house.

Tess greeted you, jumping up at you as you mindlessly stroked her head, making your way into the kitchen, she was hot on your heels, your greeting towards her wasn’t what she wanted, it felt off. It was like she always sensed when you were out of sorts or having a bad day, she’d follow you around, make sure you were okay. Pouring yourself a glass of water you thought about what you should do.

Your thoughts spiraled more the more you thought about how you were going to tell your husband. You wanted to feel complete and utter joy, but you couldn’t, so many emotions running through your mind at once. It was almost head ache inducing. Your phone buzzed on the side, bringing you from your thoughts as you picked it up, opening a message Tom had sent you.

Tom: You finished yet? Seems like a long appointment. You okay? I’m getting worried not hearing from you xx

You stared at the text, how do you respond? You can’t tell him news like this over a text or a phone call, it didn’t seem right. You needed to tell him in person, but he wasn’t due back for a month, you swallowed thickly as typed out your response.

You: Yeah, sorry, I forgot to message, got distracted. I’m okay xx

You read his reply, he was happy you were okay, a light scalding about scaring him like that. You needed to see him, but you couldn’t ask him to come home, he’d only worry more, and he was filming, his schedule was tight. You sighed as you pulled up Harry’s contact, it didn’t take him long to answer.

“Y/N? Hey.” Harry said, his usual chirpy self.

“Hey Harry. Can you send me the details of where you’re staying? Want to surprise Tom.” You said as normal as you could muster.

“You missing him already? He’s only been gone a week.” Harry teased with a short laugh.

“Yeah, I just want to see him.” You confirmed, tone dropping slightly.

“You okay?” Harry asked worriedly, he knew you were always up for a laugh, but you’d not taken the bait, so he knew something was off.

“Yeah, like I say I just miss him.” You sighed, hoping Harry wouldn’t press further. “Just don’t tell him I’m coming, yeah?”

Harry promised he wouldn’t ruin the surprise, giving you the location of the hotel they were stopping in. You put the phone down and booked your flight, the next one wasn’t until tomorrow and you needed to talk to someone about this, you also needed to find cover for your shifts. You killed two birds with one stone as you called your best friend, asking her to come over if she could.

“Y/N? What’s up? You okay?” She asked as she made her way into your home. She knew something was off when Tess didn’t greet her like she usually would. The dog only looking at her to make sure she wasn’t a threat before placing her head back in your lap.

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly, you felt tears brim your eyes, the emotional confusion was becoming too much for you. She sat next you, carefully as not to disturb the dog in your lap, who huffed, leaning her head onto you more. She became almost jealous when anyone else tried to comfort you, Tom found it endearing and infuriating at times.

“Have you had a fight with Tom?” She asked carefully, the pups ears pricking up at the mention of her owner. You shook your head in response. “You just missing him a lot?” She pried, trying to get to the bottom of your problem.

“No more than usual.” You answered as you slightly scratched Tess’s head.

“Help me out here Y/N/N, what’s wrong?” She asked and you looked at her, she noticed the tears in your eyes and furrowed her brows. “Y/N/N?” She asked softly and you let the tears fall, you couldn’t help it. Tess standing on your lap as she nudged at your face. She assumed you were missing Tom, she was always so attentive and tried to cheer you up when you cried.

“I’m pregnant.” You said through your tears, pulling Tess into a hug as she placed her head on your shoulder. Your friend looking at you, shocked expression on her face.

“Are you, are you sure?” She asked carefully. Of course she knew about your supposed infertility.

“The doctor said so. I don’t know. I didn’t think it was possible. I know I should probably be happy but it’s so much to take in. I didn’t know this was possible.” You got out. Your friend waited for you to calm down, watching as you cuddled Tessa, the dog licking your cheek every now and again until you calmed down.

“Sorry,” you said as you sniffled, eventually calming down. Your friend smiling at you, in a comforting way. “I just, I don’t know how this is supposed to make me feel.” You said, Tess now peacefully back in your lap.

“I don’t think there’s a hand book for this sort of thing.” Your friend said. “Look, you’re just confused. The impossible has just become possible for you, of course you’re not gonna know how it makes you feel. You told Tom yet?” She asked.

“No, I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know if it’s something he wants right now.” You said, tears welling your eyes. “How do I tell him?”

“I think you should just come out with it. Just say it. He loves you, I’m sure he won’t leave you. This is a good thing.” She reassured as she placed a hand on your shoulder. “A really good thing. Just tell him. I’ll cover your shifts this week, just go and tell him.” She said with a smile.

“You really think he’ll be okay with it? That we’ll be okay?” Being pregnant was already scaring the living hell out of you and the thought of doing it alone? You couldn’t think too much about it right now.

“I know he loves you and I know that the two of you are solid. You guys can work through anything. I think he’ll be over the moon. You’ve been given a chance that not many people in your position do, I know that means you’re scared but you don’t have to be, you’ll be okay. Just let the excitement in.” She said and you took in her words.

Maybe you did need to relax, this was a good thing. You didn’t feel ready to have a child, but you were given a gift that not many other women in your position are. You should be excited, you thought about it for a while, letting the excitement flood you. This felt like a miracle, an absolute gift from the universe.

**

After a relatively short flight you were met with your brother-in-law’s arms, as he picked you up from the airport.

“I could’ve gotten a taxi.” You smiled and Harry shrugged.

“Toms on a closed set, spoilers and all that. Didn’t have anything better to do.” He teased as he nudged your shoulder and you smiled. “Right, out with it.” He said after your lack of usual response.

“What?” You asked, furrowed brows.

“Something’s off. What’s wrong?” He asked, concern written all over him as he opened the passenger door for you, making his way to the driver’s side.

“I just want to see him.” You shrugged, bringing a hand up to play with your bottom lip.

“I appreciate that, I do. But, you had a doctor’s appointment yesterday and all of sudden you’re rushing to see him.” He observed, he cared for you just like he would his own sister.

“How’d you know about that?” You asked and Harry gave you a knowing look, of course Tom will have spent the last few days worrying about it. “Can I tell you when I’ve told Tom?” You asked quietly.

“Wait, are you sick? Like actually ill?” He asked as he pulled into the drive of the hotel. He turned the ignition off and looked at you. “Y/N/N, are you okay?” He asked again and you couldn’t help as you burst into your second fit of tears in two days. He placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry I’m just worried.” He furrowed his brows, when you didn’t respond he sighed as he pulled you into a hug.

“I don’t know what to do.” You said vaguely.

“About what?” He asked as he hugged you tighter, it was awkward positioning, but you felt slightly better.

“Harry I need to tell Tom something and I don’t know how he’ll react.” You sobbed, something about being in the hotel grounds had your nerves shooting through you, you weren’t far off Tom right now.

“Hey, whatever it is it’ll be okay.” He said as he rubbed your back, you silently calmed yourself and he pulled you back to look at him. “Come on, let’s get you to your husband.” He said as you both exited the car.

The walk through the hotel didn’t feel long enough, your nerves felt like they were eating away at your heart, making your breathing more difficult as you tried to calm them. Harry was quiet as he led you through the halls. When he stopped outside the door you knew was Tom’s hotel room, you felt panic rise, you couldn’t do this.

“Harry, I can’t.” You said as you stopped him opening the door. He whipped to look at you.

“Y/N/N, when has there ever been a point in your relationship where you haven’t been able to talk about something?” He reassured and you sighed.

“This is different.” You said and Harry smiled sadly.

“It’s nothing you guys can’t handle. You’re a strong couple you know.” He reassured as he grasped your hand in his. You’d always been close to Tom’s family, they became like your own brother’s. “Come on.” He said as he opened the door with the second key, Tom had his back to the door.

“Harry? Where’d you go?” He asked, knowing it was his younger sibling.

“Went to pick up a present for you.” Harry smiled and Tom turned with furrowed brows.

“Wh- Y/N/N?” Tom let out a breath of surprise. Seeing him after almost eight days apart still brought that feeling of excitement in you as your feet moved before you could stop them. Running to him as he opened his arms, ready to catch you. Your body collided with his as he picked you up, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he buried his head in the crook of your neck.

You inhaled his scent, letting it calm your nerves, it always did. His scent and being in his arms, grounded you, kept you sane. It wasn’t long before the panic set in, what if he wouldn’t be there to ground you anymore? What if he didn’t want this? It was hard, you knew everything about him apart from his want or lack of when it came to children. You didn’t know how he was gonna react.

“I’m just gonna.” You heard Harry excuse himself as he heard your sobs start again. Tom stiffened slightly, holding you tighter.

“What’s wrong? Hey, it’s only been eight days, we’ve done more.” He said as he lightly shrugged his shoulder, forcing you to look at him. He took in your face, how tired you looked, it wasn’t until he settled on your eyes that he saw the fear in them, he didn’t miss a single detail when it came to you. “What’s happened?” He asked and you shook your head before stuffing your face back into his neck.

He held you, let you cry, he knew you’d talk but he wouldn’t push you. As worried as he was he’d wait for you to calm down, wait until you were ready. You stayed like that for a good five minutes before he heard your breathing calm and sniffles quieten, running a hand through your hair and running a hand up and down your thigh in comfort.

“Tom?” You whimpered and his heart shattered, he couldn’t decipher what the fuck was going on and it scared the shit out of him. You’d seen him and cried your eyes out, your sobs shaking your body in a way that had Tom’s heart hammering in his chest.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asked, voice soft as he kissed your temple. “What happened?” His grip tightened when you tried to get down, your body had still clung to him like he’d disappear. Hands relaxed as you let go of the tight grip on his t shirt. He didn’t want to let you go.

“Can I get down please? You might want to sit for this.” You said and Tom furrowed his brows as he did as you asked. He studied you for a moment before you gestured for him to sit on the edge of the bed, wiping at your sore nose. You’d rubbed it so much after all your crying that it felt a little tender. He sat and you sat next to him, taking his hands in your shaking ones as you played with his fingers, he knew you did that when you were nervous or extremely relaxed and he deciphered the reason easily.

“Hey,” he said as he let you continue playing with his digits. “You can talk to me, sweetheart you’re scaring me here.” Tom said, voice incredibly soft, he was scared if he talked any louder you’d break, he’d never seen you so vulnerable.

You breathed in, you had to say it, he’d find out eventually, it wasn’t exactly something you could hide. On top of that you and Tom didn’t do secrets, not between each other. You let out a shaky breath as you looked at your husband, nothing but worry and care reflecting in his eyes.

“I,” you started, voice hoarse from all your crying. “I don’t know how to say it.” You admitted and Tom’s heart dropped, he’d never in your entire relationship seen you so vulnerable, never seen you at such a loss for words.

“Just say it. Rip the bandage of?” He offered in aid, and he heard you take in a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m pregnant.” You breathed out in a whisper. Tom didn’t catch it as he pulled one of his hands from your grasp, eyebrows furrowing as you pulled it back into your grasp. You were grounding yourself, using his hands as a way to keep your emotions in check. He knew that which is why he left his hand he’d previously tried to free.

“Sorry darling, I didn’t catch that.” Tom said as he placed his chin on your head. You played with his wedding ring on his finger for a moment, twirling it on his finger, it wasn’t as mindlessly as you usually did it, before you spoke again, it was still quiet, but Tom didn’t miss it. The words echoing around the silent hotel room. Of all the things he expected to be wrong, this was not it.

“What? How?” Tom got out, shock taking over his system. He didn’t think this was possible, didn’t think you could.

“I’m sorry.” You said, voice quiet, no tears but Tom would be surprised if you had any left. You placed your head on his chest as you waited for his response. You were nervous, incredibly so and Tom was shocked.

It was your fingers playing with his more harshly as you grew more nervous of his silence that brought him crashing back to Earth. His heart hammering in his chest, excitement bubbling through his system. He felt like he’d just been told he was King of the world, felt like every good piece of news had come back to him all at once. This was a miracle.

“Say it again.” Tom said with a smile on his lips, he needed to hear you say it again, just so he knew it was true.

“I’m pregnant Tom.” You said and he couldn’t help himself as he let a tear fall, his chest filling with a happiness he hadn’t felt since you’d said, ‘I do,’ and he was sure this was even happier than then. You’d done something you were told was impossible. “Are you angry?” You asked, voice small as you grasped a hand around his wedding finger.

“Angry? Princess this is the best news in the world. We’ve been given a chance, one most couples don’t.”

You looked up at him and studied his face, it was full of nothing but joy and adoration, you smiled sadly as you let the excitement settle in your chest. You didn’t have to do this alone, he wanted this. You both did.

“I’m scared.” You voiced your concern.

“You’ve got me, and I’ve got you.” He said reassuring as he kissed at your cheeks. “We can do this. Together, like everything else.” He said again and you let go of his fingers as you hugged him, strong hands finding your back as he pulled you tight against him

**

A month later and Tom had quit the role, the director and his agent understanding, he needed to be here for this, he couldn’t and wouldn’t miss it. He didn’t care if it gave him a bad name, you and your baby came first, always. Luckily everyone understood, well everyone involved in making the film. You still needed to tell your families, your mum and dad had cried at the news, your dad unbelievably so. Your sister was nothing but ecstatic for you, it was not time to tell Tom’s family, Harry had been worried after your exchange when he picked you up, but he stopped pushing when Tom reassured him you were okay.

“What? I thought?” Harry started as he looked at the couple in shock, of course Tom had told him that you were unable to have children. He’d told all of his family to stop the questions about them cropping up.

“So did we.” You said with a smile, nothing but excitement was left now, all your fears and concerns leaving your system.

“Are they certain?” Sam asked, he was just as shocked as Harry.

“Yeah.” Tom said, you’d been to a couple of doctors to confirm the news, the two of you both lived for a solid week thinking you were dreaming and almost needed it confirming as many times as was possible.

“I’m so happy for you.” Harry said with a wide smile, engulfing you in a hug, squeezing you tight.

“Have you told mum and dad?” Sam asked, smile matching his twin’s.

“Not yet.”

“Mum’s gonna cry.” Harry smiled.

**

“What?” Dom asked, like everyone else, nothing but shock evident.

“Oh Tom,” his mother said as she hugged him, smile on her face as she cried tears of happiness. “This is a miracle.” She said and Tom smiled as he hugged his mother back.

“I thought it wasn’t possible.” Dom was still in disbelief.

“So did I.” You said and Dom pulled you into a hug.

“I couldn’t be more happy for you.” He said into your ear.

His parents understood this was different for you, Tom had made the choice where you’d not had one. As harsh as it sounds Tom could have called it quits in the early stages of your relationship when you’d told him. Whereas for you, you’d lived your life thinking it didn’t matter who you married you’d never have the choice and here you were. Nikki was the next to pull you into her chest.

“I’m so unbelievably happy for you, you have no idea how happy I am for you right now.” She cried into your shoulder, and you smiled, Tom mouthing a slight ‘sorry’ over her shoulder before his dad pulled him into a hug.

**

It wasn’t until your three month scan that things got incredibly emotional, when the nurse had placed the gel on your stomach to listen for a heartbeat. You all heard two and the only person who didn’t catch on was you, you assumed it was your own heartbeat. Tom cried when he heard them, cried so incredibly hard and you assumed it was because he’d heard his child’s heartbeat for the first time and it was, but it wasn’t only that.

“I knew twins ran in the family but Jesus fucking christ.” Tom muttered as he sniffled, and you looked at him confused.

“What?”

“Darling, there’s two heart beats.” Tom said as he looked at you, how had you not caught on. You looked to the nurse for help.

“Mrs Holland, you’re having twins.” She smiled and you almost screamed in joy. How had you gotten so lucky? You couldn’t help as you pulled your husband into your arms, he let out a slight breath as you pulled him to your chest and cried into his hair.

**

Neither you nor Tom cared the gender of your child, male or female, you were ecstatic. The baby reveal was incredible, it brought tears to everyone’s eyes as they watched the two of you with your little confetti canons.

“Okay, darling. On three?” He asked, nerves kicking in for the both of you. He whispered out the numbers and on three you both set your canons off. Blue confetti showered everything in its path, they were both boys. You heard as Harry and Paddy practically roared in excitement, Sam clapping his older brother on the shoulder with a ‘congrats.’

Tom picked you up and cried into your chest, you were both over the moon. You ran your hands through his hair as you kissed the top of his head, you’d never seen him as emotional in the last few months, he cried at everything do to do with your pregnancy.

“We’re gonna have nephews!” You heard Paddy scream as he fist bumped Harry, the two had been adamant they were both boys. You smiled at their excitement.

**

The labour was long and hard, you felt like you couldn’t carry on through the last four hours. Both boys being born, half an hour apart, you both cried, Tom cutting the umbilical cords with shaky hands.

“I’m so proud of you.” Tom said as he kissed your temple, you were sweaty and in your opinion probably looked like shit, not to Tom though. You looked like an absolute angel.

“I never thought I’d have this.” You said in a small and tired voice, a wave of emotions hitting you.

“I know sweetheart.” Tom said, he knew there really was nothing else to say, no ‘if’, ‘buts’ or ‘maybes.’ What had happened for the two of you was an absolute miracle, a chance not many were given.

“I love you.” You said as a tear slipped, and Tom was quick to wipe it away as he moved the sweaty mess of hair from your forehead.

“I love you to, more than anything.” He said as he rested his forehead against yours.

“Tom, I’m all sweaty.” You groaned as you tried to calm your onslaught of emotions and he laughed.

“How do you think these guys were made, we had to get a little sweaty then didn’t we?” Tom teased and you lifted a tired hand to slap his shoulder. He laughed as he pulled away to hold your hand.

“Thank you.” You said as you played with his fingers, particularly the wedding ring that rested on his finger. Although this time, it wasn’t out of nerves, you were content, happy, in pure bliss.

“What for?” He asked, the gratitude confused him.

“For staying with me, sticking by me.” You said as you closed your eyes slightly, you were so tired, a long labour having caught up with you.

“I told you when I asked you to marry me, I’m never going anywhere, no matter what. Get some rest darling.” He said but it fell on deaf ears, your breathing evening out as you looked the most content and happy he’d ever seen you in his life, sleep consuming you. Your hand didn’t leave his, your two healthy boys were currently sleeping next to your bed. As Tom looked around the room at his family that was much bigger than he’d anticipated at the start of the year he counted his blessings that whoever was up there had given you a chance.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Chapter 5 of The Quiet Room (ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4)

-

Nie Mingjue took three tries to wake up.

In all truth, he wasn’t that badly injured – if it hadn’t been for how tangled his spiritual energy already was, steeped in resentment from his wayward cultivation and burned by trying to keep a saber’s pace from within a human body, a night’s rest and some tonics would probably have been enough to put him right. But it was, and he was, and so the concern of his doctors was all the more pronounced.

The first time he woke, it was to Nie Xiaoxuan, a cantankerous old doctor who’d lost all patience with her patients years before Nie Mingjue had been conceived, looking down at him with a scowl, saying, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Go back to sleep!”

A needle had descended, leaving him not much choice about the matter – it was a good thing he was used to such rough treatment, or else he might’ve worried. Instead he found some comfort in how some things were always the same, and his Nie sect’s objectively awful bedside manner was one of them.

He slept.

He woke a second time to arguing outside his door in the middle of the night, whispers and hisses that were so loud as to be unworthy of being called lowered voices –

“– the Sect Leader deserves to know!”

“Nie-er-gongzi gave the order, and it was obeyed. There isn’t any need to disturb the Sect Leader’s recuperation over nonsense.”

“Nonsense?! Do you know what the implications will be? Nie-er-gongzi is still young, he doesn’t understand –”

“Sect Leader was once younger still. There is still sect discipline, or are you making an official challenge to his judgment? If so, you should be bothering Nie-er-gongzi, as the one who gave the order, and a council of peers that would be assembled to determine if his judgment was flawed.”

“I  - no. I won’t.”

“If there’s no challenge to the quality of Nie-er-gongzi’s judgment, then there’s no reason to talk to the Sect Leader.”

Nie Mingjue smiled, proud of his sect and of his brother – even if he didn’t know exactly what it was that Nie Huaisang had ordered that had caused such a stir – and went back to sleep.

He woke up the third time to the sounds of a guqin.

He’d always been slow to wake from an induced sleep, and this time was no different – his body was heavy, confining, and it was a long time before he managed to open his eyes. A half-shichen at least, and yet the guqin continued steadfastly onwards.

So by the time he did manage to open his eyes, the first words out of Nie Mingjue’s mouth were, “Wangji, please stop making a racket.”

The sound of the guqin paused.

Nie Mingjue turned his head to look at him. Lan Wangji looked better than he had the last time he’d seen him, in that horrible mixture of nightmare and reality that had been their flight from the Cloud Recesses and the terrible strain of flying all the way to Qinghe in a single night.  If either of them had been lesser cultivators, they wouldn’t have been able to manage it; even at their level, it was considered highly unwise, and they had known that they were spending life energy rather than spiritual qi to buy them the strength they needed.

At least it had been late enough that both children, initially excited by all the rushing around involved in their escape, had quickly lapsed back into sleep instead of descending to tears.

Still, better was a low bar. By the end of their flight, Lan Wangji had had blood soaking through his white robes, his eye locked on the horizon and unable to focus on anything nearer, his entire body wracked with occasional shudders – if he’d been anyone else, he would have been screaming.

He still look pale and bloodless, his eyes hunted and guilty and tired, stark white bandages visible beneath the pale (but not white) robes that looked like something Nie Huaisang had once owned, but he didn’t look about to expire, so Nie Mingjue would take that as a victory.

“I would have thought,” Lan Wangji said carefully, laying his hands on the guqin chords to stop the sound, “that you would prefer that it not be silent.”

“There’s silence and then there’s silence,” Nie Mingjue said, trying to shrug and abruptly realizing that that was a bad idea. His shoulders and neck and back all hurt – possibly he’d dislocated something in trying to get out of that horrible room. Probably, even. “Not wanting to be locked in a room designed to be as close to nothingness as possible doesn’t necessarily mean that I don’t want some peace and quiet once in a while…I shouldn’t have called your playing a racket. It’s very good. There was just a lot of it.”

Lan Wangji blinked, then shook his head. “I do not take offense,” he said, simply enough that Nie Mingjue believed him. “It is a surprise that you think the way you do about silence, even now. I myself have been…struggling, with the concept.”

“It’s very loud here,” Nie Mingjue said knowingly, and Lan Wangji averted his eyes. “It’s all right if you don’t like it that much, you know. Has Huaisang talked with you about the options for soundproofing?”

“He has,” Lan Wangji said. “I have not yet accepted.”

“Why not?”

“It feels –” he hesitated. “Like a step backwards. My Lan sect has always valued silence, quiet – not just valued, but imposed, even on those for whom it is not appropriate.”

Like you, he meant, or maybe he was thinking about little Lan Jingyi, the orphan he’d stolen away from his own sect – truly stolen, since unlike little Lan Sizhui Lan Wangji had no guardianship rights over him to justify taking him away.

Nie Mingjue hadn’t objected to it, figuring that it didn’t make much difference to the amount of scandal he would undoubtedly causse whether he had taken away one child or two when he convinced the Second Jade of Lan to abandon his ‘seclusion’ in favor of refuge at the Unclean Realm. Anyway, if Lan Wangji had concluded that it would be better for the child to leave, then it probably was – Nie Mingjue trusted his judgment.

Just like you trusted Lan Xichen’s?

“Each sect has a different cultivation style,” he said, deciding not to think about that right now. “With both strengths and weaknesses. My Nie sect has a martial style, aggressive and overpowering; your Lan sect, although it still follows the orthodoxy of sword cultivation, focuses on contemplation, thoughtfulness, and, yes, quiet. Who is to say which is better than the other? They’re just different.”

Lan Wangji was frowning.

“Sometimes I think Wen Mao made a mistake when he abandoned sects based on preference and style in favor of raising up his clan,” Nie Mingjue confessed. “And your ancestors and mine, too, in following his lead. Look at Huaisang – to cultivate a saber is his heritage, his birthright and his duty to our bloodline, and so he must do so despite being clearly unsuited for it.” He paused, then sighed. “Not that he’s all that suitable for anything else, either.”

Lan Wangji shot him a quelling look, disapproving, but in the sort of way that Lans had when they were amused by you.

“Still, we’re all cultivators, each of us fighting against fate,” Nie Mingjue continued. “While we must be guided by our traditions, we must also each find the path that suits us best. You’ve always enjoyed the quiet, Wangji; you welcome peace, prefer order, thrive within the confines of your sect’s rules. Finding the point at which you and your traditions part ways does not mean that you are morally obligated to give up everything about them.”

“Not even when those traditions have caused so much harm?”

“Even so,” Nie Mingjue said firmly. “We’re all on a path, and in choosing to take a new turn, you are not disregarding the past, but adding your wisdom to that of those who came before you. I made changes to my Nie sect’s cultivation style once I became sect leader, just as my father did before me; my brother will make still more when he takes the position after I go. Each of my Nie sect disciples practices the Nie sect style, but each one takes it and makes it their own. Keep what helps, discard what hurts.”

“But in this case, is it not the very same thing?” Lan Wangji asked. His brow was still furrowed, the matter clearly one of great concern to him. “I have always turned to the quiet for comfort and strength, sought seclusion to temper myself and test myself, and yet – in the absence of all noise– I found myself slowly going mad, locked away and alone. You yourself nearly died from it. What lesson can I take from this, if not that the quiet is evil?”

“You can take the lesson that too much quiet can be an evil, in the same way too much medicine can be a poison,” Nie Mingjue said. “I might hate your jingshi, since it doesn’t suit me, but I’m given to understand that it often helps, too. It brings peace to cultivators who are tormented by a mind full of thoughts they cannot quiet and helps them fight the demons in their hearts, it allows those who are too connected to the world to tear themselves away. It was built for a purpose.”

“It was,” Lan Wangji said. “A purpose it has now betrayed.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t have anything to say about that. He’d once told Lan Xichen that he thought his sect’s practice of introducing children to that place until they learned quiet whether they liked it or not was inhumane and cruel, and Lan Xichen – in a rare moment of sarcasm – had asked him if teaching them to cultivate a saber spirit that would eventually consume their minds with rage was somehow meant to be morally superior.  

To each their own faults, he supposed. Perhaps the next generation would do better.

(He found himself thinking things like that a great deal, these days. He was only in his twenties, and yet his thoughts resembled an old man’s – the feeling of death stalking his footsteps, the day nearly done, his legacy a book that seemed to be nearly completed.

That had been what had driven him to stop his sessions of Clarity with Jin Guangyao, in fact. He’d been reviewing a plan for renovating the western courtyards of the Unclean Realm as part of a long-term plan to get more air and light in there and he’d found himself thinking I probably won’t be here to see this completed, and that had been when he’d realized that it was time to start seriously planning for succession.)

“Perhaps it is the conflation of different things,” Lan Wangji mused, more to himself than anyone else. “The quiet, being alone, loneliness…and yet you can have quiet without being alone, you can be alone without being lonely, you can be lonely without quiet. A balance between disconnecting from the world and connecting with other people.”

That sounded like poetry, and Nie Mingjue could see Lan Wangji’s fingers twitch towards the guqin – he’d probably been inspired.

Nie Mingjue sighed and put his hand over his eyes. His father had told him that being an elder brother meant a life of sacrifice, and he’d been right. “All right,” he said. “Go ahead and play something. I know you want to.”

Lan Wangji was silent for a few long moments, and then his fingers began to move, the too-familiar sound of the Song of Clarity rising up to fill Nie Mingjue’s ears.

“I didn’t mean for me,” Nie Mingjue clarified, rolling his eyes while his hand was still hiding them. The Lan were always so earnest. “I’m not even meditating right now, Wangji. Don’t waste your effort.”

Lan Wangji’s fingers stilled briefly, then continued.

“Chifeng-zun –”

Nie Mingjue pulled his hand away long enough to give Lan Wangji a stern look – he’d already told him several times to refer to him more casually, and however long or short his stay at the Unclean Realm was, if they were going to endure a scandal together, he was simply going to have to adjust to their ways.

Lan Wangji looked long-suffering.

“Mingjue-xiong,” he conceded, and Nie Mingjue nodded, pleased. “Please pay close attention to my playing. Identify if there are any differences between my rendition and –”

“Wangji,” Nie Mingjue interrupted, feeling pained at the very thought. “I can’t.”

Lan Wangji frowned at him, his eyes showing distress.

Nie Mingjue felt guilty at once, and exhaled a sigh. “Wangji, you know I don’t cultivate with music,” he said. “It’s all just interminable plucking to me.”

Lan Wangji’s eyebrows shot up. “Plucking?” he echoed, and Nie Mingjue winced – he’d probably shocked poor Lan Wangji’s conscience. “Mingjue-xiong…you really don’t like music, do you?”

“Not in the slightest,” Nie Mingjue confessed. “I can more or less follow a beat or rhythm, and military calls are fine no matter what instrument is involved, but the rest is all a mess of pointless noise. I can’t tell if the notes are high or low, which ones go before the others, and apparently there are different tones in music as there are in speech? Except in music, certain of them apparently sporadically considered bad, in a variety of different and exciting ways, sometimes but not others, none of which make the slightest difference – ”

He stopped talking on account of Lan Wangji having started to make an unusual hiccupping sound.

Nie Mingjue squinted. Was Lan Wangji…laughing?

If so, he was sorely out of practice. Though now that he thought it, that seemed to make some sense.

“Forgive me,” Lan Wangji said, shoulders shaking – he’d stopped making audible noise, but he was evidently still suffering from an attack of hilarity. “You speak so well, Mingjue-xiong; I had not realized that you suffered from amusia.” He saw Nie Mingjue’s frown of confusion and clarified, “Tone-deafness.”

“I say so all the time!”

“I had incorrectly assumed, as I suspect many have, that you were using the term colloquially,” Lan Wangji said. “How do you fight alongside my brother? I have seen you do so flawlessly, without any impediment, even when he wields Liebing.”

“I can follow along with what he’s doing with his qi,” Nie Mingjue said. “We have been close for so many years, and his spiritual energy is as familiar to me as my own –”

Lan Wangji flinched.

Nie Mingjue stopped talking.

His heart was heavy in his chest, weighed down with feeling, all those things he’d been so carefully not thinking about suddenly stifling him. Lan Xichen, his childhood friend, his lover, his beloved…

He’d hurt him.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t bring himself to believe that the act had been intentional or malicious, not even when Lan Wangji’s arrival made painfully clear that Lan Xichen hadn’t even bothered to supervise him. It simply wasn’t in Lan Xichen’s nature to do such an underhanded thing –

(You once thought Meng Yao wouldn’t do that sort of thing, either. Do you make a habit of blindness?)

He had known Lan Xichen for such a long time, though. If he didn’t know him, both virtues and faults, what person existed that he could say he understood?

No, Lan Xichen must have been trying to help him, not hurt him. And yet – regardless of his intent – he had.

He had hurt him very badly.

Lan Xichen hadn’t listened to him, had ignored him, disregarded him – Nie Mingjue had been as clear as he could be about how he felt about the quiet room. Perhaps he hadn’t told Lan Xichen about his youthful attempt to see if he could handle it, at first out of simply not wanting to appear weak in front of his lover, but later out of (admittedly petty) principle: shouldn’t his ‘no’ be enough? Shouldn’t Lan Xichen have trusted him?

He hadn’t.

He’d trusted Jin Guangyao instead.

Jin Guangyao with his smiles and slippery manner, with his so-believable excuses and always-present rationalizations, always the victim in every exchange they had – Lan Xichen always went to comfort him first after they had another one of their arguments, Nie Mingjue recalled abruptly. He’d called him on it once, in his anger, but Lan Xichen had explained that he knew how strong Nie Mingjue was, how resilient, and that his “A-Yao” needed his sympathy more.

Nie Mingjue hadn’t thought much of it at the time. He was resilient, and anyway he knew how frightening his rages could be; he’d thought perhaps that Lan Xichen simply wanted the excuse to be elsewhere until he’d had a chance to calm down.

He’d rationalized a lot of things. Maybe too many. But this?

This was too much.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Wangji said hesitantly. “About – about my brother…”

Nie Mingjue grimaced, and Lan Wangji felt silent once more.

Nie Mingjue’s heart cried out for his lover, the kind and gentle man who might be a little too reluctant to express himself, a little prone to going with the will of the majority to avoid confrontation, a little inclined to panic at the thought of disappointing people, but whose faults only made him the more human, the more loveable.

But Nie Mingjue had slept, and slept well, and even if his heart was still tangled, his mind was now clear.

“I have long thought,” he said carefully, painfully cognizant of the fact that Lan Wangji was Lan Xichen’s younger brother, “that fate had arranged for your brother and I to meet, and that we would live the rest of our lives intertwined, our hears and minds filled with thoughts of one another. But it seems to me now that that was perhaps – not our destiny.”

“My brother has wronged you,” Lan Wangji said solemnly.

“I still believe his intent was good,” Nie Mingjue assured him earnestly. “Your brother has – more reason than most, I think, to resent my intransigence on matters of my health, and to suspect – to suspect –”

He stopped, swallowed. He had long been (politely) termed to be a straightforward man; it was not in his character to stutter over his speech, to be unable to say the unvarnished truth no matter how painful. Even if it was his lover who was causing him such pain.

“Wangji,” he said instead, and Lan Wangji looked at him. “You know that my family – does not live long lives.”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“It is not uncommon,” he said carefully, “for those in my family to begin to show signs of decline before the end. A certain rigidity of thought –”

“You are not so far down that path that your thinking has become impaired,” Lan Wangji said abruptly, his voice unexpectedly fierce. “Moreover, your refusal was not new, but consistent with your prior thoughts, your opinion expressed repeatedly and consistently. Do not make excuses for him.”

Nie Mingjue was a little surprised, having expected Lan Wangji to defend his brother, but then he recalled the matter of those thirty-three marks marring Lan Wangji’s back. Even if Lan Wangji’s conduct had been wrong, it had been motivated by love, and at any rate the others in the Lan sect had not died – no one had died, except for Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji had only been able to offer his beloved the succor of his presence for a short time before he returned to submit himself to punishment.

Impulsive, hot-headed, passionate – it might not be the actions of a Lan, but, as a Nie, Nie Mingjue found his sympathies lay with Lan Wangji in this matter. Yes, he had defended a murderer from being torn apart by the hands of his victims, and Nie Mingjue would not say that he did not think it was necessary for Wei Wuxian to die, but even those that had been duly tried and sentenced to the worst capital punishment might still be allowed the mercy of a good meal and the touch of their lover’s hand before they were executed, and a bit of disobedience against one’s elders was to be expected in any love affair.  

Was fending off a few old men to buy a few shichen of love before its premature end really worth a punishment that would have crippled anyone weaker?

“Actions matter more than intent,” he agreed, wondering how he could convey his thoughts on the subject without being offensive to the Lan sect, “but that doesn’t make intent meaningless. To act from love and affection is still better than for – other reasons.”

He wasn’t sure Lan Wangji had understood his meaning: the other man only lowered his eyes.

Nie Mingjue’s mind reluctantly returned to his own troubles.

“I’ll speak with Xichen,” he decided, even though he knew it was probably a bad idea. Lan Xichen’s conduct, however it was meant, could be understood as having brought him to the very precipice of death – enough justification to start a war, given that Nie Mingjue was a sect leader. Their respective positions meant that a disagreement between them could never be simply personal, but was also political; if Nie Mingjue allowed his soft heart to convince him to forgive Lan Xichen, he would be setting a poor standard for the future. “He can explain what he was thinking. If I find his explanation unsatisfactory, I will – tell him what I told you.”

Nie Mingjue was blunt and direct, sparing no one – not even himself – but he was not so cold as to be able to cut off a relationship that already spanned the majority of his life sign unseen. He would give Lan Xichen one chance to salvage things between them, to be shocked into sobriety by the extent of how things had gotten out of hand, to genuinely apologize –

“I think,” Lan Wangji said, very slowly, eyes still locked on the floor as if there was something fascinating there, “that brother’s explanation may omit that he was distracted by his other lover.”

Nie Mingjue’s heart froze in his chest.

“Other – lover?” he said dumbly. Lan Wangji refused to look at him. “Wangji – are you saying – Xichen has..?”

Lan Xichen wouldn’t. Surely he wouldn’t.

“Lianfeng-zun has told him lies, and Brother accepted them without verification,” Lan Wangji said, and his voice was bitter. “I believe that he feared confronting you on the subject of a man he knew you disliked, and also saw an opportunity to obtain his heart’s desire – to not give up anything and yet gain something he wanted. And Lianfeng-zun is known to be skilled in anticipating people’s desires.”

Nie Mingjue stared at the ceiling in a daze, his mind whirling.

So many little things suddenly made a belated sort of sense.

The way Lan Xichen seemed so certain that all the troubles between them were only temporary, the way that he entreated Nie Mingjue to think kindly of Jin Guangyao as if there was a stronger bond between them than a lost former friendship and a new sworn brotherhood. The way Jin Guangyao acted more intimately with Nie Mingjue whenever Lan Xichen was present, only to return to a more professional remove once they were alone – he’d assumed that was because Jin Guangyao knew that Lan Xichen would protect him if Nie Mingjue got annoyed with him for such familiarities and that Nie Mingjue would not want to upset his beloved by scolding over something so minor.

But if, for instance, Jin Guangyao had told Lan Xichen that they had been lovers once, those public intimacies, and Lan Xichen’s joy in them, all suddenly took on a new flavor –

Surely Lan Xichen knew that Nie Mingjue would never have done that to him?

Skilled in anticipating people’s desires.

Nie Mingjue had noticed Lan Xichen’s fondness for Jin Guangyao from the first, back when Jin Guangyao had been only Meng Yao, and he’d known that Meng Yao had respected and even revered the beautiful, powerful, and chivalrous Zewu-jun. He’d been pleased when they’d become friends, hadn’t minded the occasional light flirtation – he’d been so certain that nothing would come of it, trusted in Lan Xichen’s morality and their love. He himself was not skilled in wordplay the way they were, nor as sensitive to the subtle changes in a conversation, preferring to stay silent rather than risk mis-stepping, a habit formed of too much responsibility and exposure to politics at too early an age. Why shouldn’t Lan Xichen get to enjoy the cut and thrust of charming, clever conversation with an expert at the art?

They had all been friends back then. Nie Mingjue had been so proud of his prized deputy, and pleased beyond measure that Lan Xichen liked him as well; Nie Mingjue had so few friends that the addition of another one was something he treasured. Even if Lan Xichen’s good sense had surely told him that such betrayal was impossible, given Nie Mingjue’s character, he might still in his reckless desires allow himself to be intoxicated by his affections and believe it for just a little while – just long enough to taste Jin Guangyao’s lips, perhaps.

That’d be enough.

Nie Mingjue knew Lan Xichen well; he knew his lover’s faults as well as he knew his virtues. If Lan Xichen had allowed himself to act foolishly for a moment, he would have panicked at the thought of coming to terms with it, and Jin Guangyao was so good at soothing his panic. Too good: where Nie Mingjue, in his harshness, had always advised revisiting mistakes and learning from them, no matter how difficult the process, Jin Guangyao would always recommend being kind to oneself, taking care of oneself, avoiding the pain that came with tackling one’s flaws and erroneous self-conceptions head-on.

Too much care for the self would eventually mean not enough care for others, Nie Mingjue had always thought, rolling his eyes whenever Jin Guangyao earnestly held forth on his views. But Lan Xichen had liked it – and why wouldn’t he? It was easier to put yourself first, to refuse to admit mistakes were mistakes, to rationalize events until you were always the victim and everyone else wrong. It meant you didn’t have to confront your own capacity for cruelty and selfishness, could conceive of yourself as always virtuous and always good and always right.

Right, rather than righteous.

Justified, rather than just.

The way Jin Guangyao always did.

Yes, Lan Xichen might allow himself to kiss Jin Guangyao, or more if Jin Guangyao pushed his advantage – which he would, Nie Mingjue had no doubt of that – and then, after the fog of lust had cleared, Lan Xichen would realize that he’d have to confess the entire thing to Nie Mingjue.

An emotional confrontation of the sort he hated most.

And then, of course, just as Lan Xichen was most upset and vulnerable, Jin Guangyao would offer him a way out – a way for Lan Xichen to continue to see himself as a good person who had done no wrong, who didn’t need confront anything – a way to get a new love alongside the old, to have Jin Guangyao’s clever speech and gentle care while not losing Nie Mingjue’s steadfast affection and support.

It was not uncommon in their times for a man to have more than one wife and entirely possible for him to love them both equally; the idea of a triad was not so strange. But Lan Xichen should have asked.

He didn’t.

He didn’t ask because some part of him knew that the answer would be no, and, just as he had with the quiet room, that was not an answer he wished to accept.

And that…that was not something that could be blamed on Jin Guangyao, as much as Nie Mingjue would prefer to do so.

That was all Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen...how could you do this to me?

Nie Mingjue closed his eyes in pain. It felt as if all the air had been knocked out of him, like a really good punch might do - he felt hollow, weightless, disconnected, as if he had been struck by a blow that had shattered his bones and he was drifting in that blank space in the moment after the blow landed but before the pain reached his brain.

The full weight of the revelation would hit, eventually. He would feel it all, eventually.

“I see,” he said, and he did. Lan Wangji was upset over it in a way that suggested that he had only recently learned the truth. Given the speed of their travel, that meant he must have discovered it while conversing with Nie Huaisang – and that was another problem, because Nie Huaisang was their father’s son just as Nie Mingjue was, and nothing sparked their rage more than an offense against a loved one. “Thank you for telling me.”

“It is what I should do.”

Nie Mingjue nodded, his throat tight, his chest dull as if there was a knot where his heart had been - yes, he would need some time to deal with this.

“Huaisang is managing well?” he asked, not quite able to bring himself to actually ask for a little more time before he had to return to being the stern and untouchable sect leader, before he had to once again take on the mantle of power and make all the decisions – to force himself to react as a politician rather than a betrayed lover. It would be disgraceful to give into such weakness.

“He is,” Lan Wangji said. “He has given orders that you may not leave your room until the end of the week at the earliest, so as to remind the disciples of the benefit of rest following an injury.”

Nie Mingjue loved his brother.

“Very well,” he said, and decided not to ask about what Nie Huaisang might or might not have gotten into over the last day or so that had led some disciples to think they needed to disturb his rest in order to tell him. It didn’t really matter. They needed to adjust to taking Nie Huaisang’s orders as if he was sect leader in truth – especially if Nie Mingjue’s health continued to deteriorate…

He didn’t have time to think too much on that before Lan Wangji spoke again, saying, “Even if you do not understand music, you can follow the emanations of qi from an instrument, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Nie Mingjue said, a little puzzled by the sudden shift in conversation but deeply relieved to have something to think about - anything, really, as long as it wasn’t the brutal feeling of his heart being torn to shreds within his chest.

“So if I were to utilize musical cultivation, you might be able to determine if I were using the same patterns as you had heard others use?”

“I suppose so,” Nie Mingjue said. It would be extremely irritating to have to pay attention to such small ebbs and flows, especially when he was also trying to meditate and draw the qi into himself for the fullest effect, but he was familiar enough with Clarity by now that he probably could if he really had to. “But why?”

“A suspicion,” Lan Wangji said. “Nie Huaisang has pointed out that Lianfeng-zun’s actions in connection to my brother are suggestive of malice against you, his actions in convincing my brother to lock you into the jingshi doubly so, and yet he comes to visit you regularly, purportedly to improve your health.”

Purportedly.

Nie Mingjue grimaced again, but this time it was with anger at himself – because the suggestion did not shock him the way the information about Lan Xichen had. Meng Yao, Meng Yao, he thought, I wish I didn’t believe this of you. I extended my trust to you twice over, and each time you have disappointed me…it’s my own fault, I suppose, for being arrogant enough to think I could change you.

“Thank you, Wangji,” he said, suddenly tired. “I understand your implication, and we will of course need to examine whether it is correct. But not today.”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji said, and stood up. “I will take my leave and go tell Nie Huaisang to move me into one of the soundproofed rooms. I require time to contemplate the subject of quiet.”

That made Nie Mingjue want to smile, though he couldn’t quite manage it, still twisted by all the revelations that had relentlessly pounded against him since he had awoken. “Good,” he said instead, turning to nod at Lan Wangji in approval. “I hope your meditation on the subject is fruitful.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji agreed. “As you said, I must find my own path, be guided by tradition but not unduly restricted by it. But there is one point in what you said that was incorrect.”

“Oh?”

“You said that I should not, without consideration, throw out my sect’s traditions,” Lan Wangji said, and he was standing stiffly, at attention, with his face as serious as it ever got. “But at the moment, it is not my sect. You have given me permission to stay here, and I intend to do so.”

Nie Mingjue’s first thought was oh that’s going to have some serious political implications, followed immediately by I guess I did do that didn’t I and someone is going to wring my throat over this, probably Huaisang, but very shortly thereafter with if this is what he needs then so be it.

Still, he could do nothing but watch, stunned, as Lan Wangji lifted his hands to his forehead and very deliberately removed the forehead ribbon that marked him as a member of the Lan sect – the symbol of his family, the symbol of his restraint, which he would normally have never allowed another person outside his family to see him without – and, just as deliberately, wrapped it around Nie Mingjue’s wrist.

“I would ask that you keep this for me, Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Wangji said, and his tone when he said Nie Mingjue’s name was the same as when he called Lan Xichen brother. “Until such time as I decide to reclaim it as my own, or discard it forever.”

“Of course,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice a little faint from shock. “Whatever you need, Wangji.”

Lan Wangji looked at him, grateful, and saluted deeply before leaving.

Nie Mingjue lay back down on the bed and stared at his wrist for a long moment.

This is going to have some serious political implications, he thought a second time. And Lan Xichen won’t ever forgive me for stealing away his little brother.

A moment later, he shook his head at his own foolishness. Lan Xichen had made his choices.

Now he would have to pay for them.

[theepitomeofamess]

hey y'all, i'm working on this project i'm really excited about and i wanted to share some of it.

it's basically just a retelling of Ares mythology (i know that this probably sounds a lot like knock off madeline miller, but just hear me out) focusing on the parts that don't paint him like an angry meathead -- the version of his myth where he's raised by Priapus and taught to dance long before fighting, how he is one of the few male gods to care for his children and respect women, the story of his daughter Alcippe (which, if you don't know it, trigger warning for sexual assault and murder if you look it up), and the idea that his anger stems from depression caused by being hated by his supposed father and ostracized by any god who wanted to stay on Zeus' good side (hello projecting :^D).

Anyway, i wanna share some ideas i have about Ares as a character (in no way trying to be disrespectful to the deity, my apologies if it comes off that way). I've got a long list of ideas under the cut, I'd love to get some feedback (@witch19, you know I'd love your opinion on all this)

so a big concept i want to work with is tattoos. from what i understand, tattoos were a sign of punishment in ancient greece, used to mark slaves and criminals so they could be identified or continually punished. there's a story (link here) of athenians tattooing athena's owl on ancient samians after a defeat, ares decided to take on the same punishment as the men he had helped in the battle. as he grows into himself and his confidence, the tattoo grows with him from athena's pygmy owl to an eagle owl, which became one of his sacred animals in some versions of his mythology. he started getting even more as he started viewing them as a sign of strength rather than punishment, and especially when he learned of emperors tattooing gladiators, who he often helped and identified with

the owl is his first tattoo, but his favorite is a honeycomb over his heart. there are a lot of bees on the comb, with aphrodite being the queen directly over his heart. there's a bee for each of his children, and a drone with a broken wing for Hephaestus (Aphrodite actually gets a matching queen bee on the back of her hand so when she puts her hand over his heart, the bee is still there)

maybe another tattoo is a peacock feather for his mother? maybe it's covering a Lichtenberg figure he got from one of zeus' fits of rage?? maybe idk???

speaking of scars, he gains a scar for every one that's gained by a soldier. it doesn't matter what side the soldier is on, it doesn't matter how minor the wound is, he bleeds with every soldier in every fight he's involved in, feels their pain. armor does nothing to stop it -- it never even gets scuffed.

because it never gets hit and therefore looks brand new, ares doesn't actually like wearing his armor. it gives the impression that he's never been in a fight. he'd rather just wear his tunic.

he's actually much more of a romantic person than a sexual one. he's not asexual (bisexual, actually), he's just a big softy and craves a softer, more genuine connection. that's why he doesn't take as many lovers, why he doesn't have casual sex, and why he takes his time romancing aphrodite. he really enjoys the soft, quiet intimacy.

the first time he met aphrodite, he asked her to dance. no one was dancing except servant girls/nymphs, and they were not on the same page at first. aphrodite thought "dancing" was an innuendo (like what zeus and poseidon have done before), and ares wasn't catching on to the fact that she thought he meant sex. poor boy just wanted to dance, and it took some talking in circles, but he did get his dance. aphrodite loved how fun and innocent it was.

dancing is an outlet for him. he loves it. he spent his whole childhood with priapus dancing, and still enjoys it to no end. this influences his build (where a lot of the gods -- zeus, poseidon, etc. -- are more bulky and lumbering, ares is very lean, limber, and light on his feet)

he keeps a garden. it was part of being raised by priapus in the mortal world -- they grew their own food, and it's a hobby that followed ares into adulthood. besides, growing his own food means that, while he doesn't get as many offerings, he still gets the good stuff. the garden has a beehive that aphrodite loves helping with. all of his children are spoiled with mortal food before they are ever old enough or well known enough to get an offering from the mortal world

he refuses the idea that zeus is his father. he believes the version of the story that he was conceived by hera alone through pure spite and rage -- this is the version that athena tells him, and he tends to believe athena before anyone else.

speaking of, he actually gets along with a lot of the gods. he and athena, though constantly pitted against each other, have a pretty good relationship and she is often a comfort for him. they will often sit together in no man's land after a battle, and she will often comfort him if it was a particularly bloody one. at the end of the day, in her mind, she's his big sister. she actually used to (against zeus' wishes) go visit ares at priapus' home and read him stories.

apollo actually really enjoys hanging out with him -- ares dances to apollo's music and apollo is the one that gives ares his tattoos, a form of art that apollo doesn't get to practice otherwise.

he sees hades a lot more than a lot of people, as he often helps thanatos in escorting killed battalions to the underworld, spending the entire time ensuring them that even if they did not achieve victory, they brought honor to their homes and families. hades doesn't have favorite nephews/neices, but given how ares has been ostracized in a way that hades can find familiar, he empathizes with him quite a bit.

he and hephaestus actually would have been very close if they were allowed to have a childhood together and didn't have mutual jealousy, and actually have some really sweet moments. ares trusts hephaestus wholly with the wellbeing of aphrodite and his children, knowing that he will take care of them in his stead if he needs to.

still working out the kinks on this idea, but the dryad Harmonia is born from the tree that grows from ares' tears for Alcippe. she offers to help him create an entire society of daughters for him, ones that live away from the threat of men. daughters that know well how to protect themselves from those who threaten and attack them. (like i said, i'm still working on this idea, i'm not even sure if the amazons will be included, but i like thinking about the different ways that this could be interpreted/used)

maybe in that same vein of harmonia and the tree, ares crafts eros' bow himself (maybe with some help from hephaestus and his experienced craftsmanship?) from a branch of harmonia's tree? maybe he strings it with his own heartstring, left dangling loose, irreparable after the heartbreak of Alcippe?

okay so clearly i have a lot of ideas regarding this project. any and all writers, mythology lovers, narrative flippers, please let me know of any further interest or ideas about this!

[butterflies-dragons]

do you know if anyone wrote meta about Jon and Littlefinger being foils? like both were raised in a paramount house next to the lord's children, forced out it in their teens thanks to a betrothal, started from the bottom and climbed to the top, wanted to be loved by catelyn. I'm not smart enough to figure out how LF's relationship w Sansa will be a foil to Jonsa by myself, do you know if someone wrote anything?

I wrote about it here and there:

Jon Snow and Petyr Baelish

Jon and Petyr were raised along with Tully girls (Sansa, Catelyn and Lysa).

Jon and Petyr loved redhead girls (Ygritte, Catelyn) that are described as half-fish (Ygritte’s swimming skills and Tully sigil).

Jon and Petyr lost their virginity with redhead girls (Ygritte, Lysa).

Being a legitimate Stark and inheriting Winterfell is Jon’s deepest desire, while Petyr conspired the fall of House Stark.

Jon and Petyr have Bael the Bard imagery around them. Bael the bard abducted the Rose of Winterfell, Rhaegar abducted Lyanna Stark (Jon’s mother), and Petyr abducted Sansa Stark. Bael and Rhaegar were harp players, while Petyr spread lies in his favor through songs (A harp can be as dangerous as a sword, in the right hands —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI).

Unlike Petyr’s forced kisses, Sansa associates “snow” with lover’s kisses (Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII).

Unlike Petyr, that has used the godswoods of the Red Keep and the Eyrie, to lie and trap Sansa, and is an awful replacement as a father figure for Sansa, Jon would never lie to Sansa in front of the old gods, like Ned taught him (Jon said, “My lord father believed no man could tell a lie in front of a heart tree. The old gods know when men are lying.” —A Clash of Kings - Jon II).

Littlefinger is grooming Sansa, forcing sexual advances on her, and those started during the snow castle scene. The symbolic image of a giant invading Winterfell also plays as an innuendo (“May I come into your castle, my lady?” Sansa was wary. “Don’t break it. Be …” “… gentle?” He smiled. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII). Sansa defended herself with “a handful of snow” (Sansa […] grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. “That was unchivalrously done, my lady.” —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII).

From: THE BLACK PRINCE WITH THE WHITE GUARDIAN - Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, the Tourney at Ashford Meadow and the songs about Florian and Jonquil.

* * *

3. Petyr Baelish

Littlefinger was never at Winterfell or the godswood, but he feels a deep hatred for the castle, he always dreamed of Winterfell as Catelyn’s dark and cold prison:

He walked along outside the walls. “I used to dream of it, in those years after Cat went north with Eddard Stark. In my dreams it was ever a dark place, and cold.”

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Littlefinger is the cause of the War of the Five Kings that killed Sansa’s parents and older brother and separated her remaining siblings. The war also caused the fall of Winterfell that was, invaded, sacked and burned by the Greyjoys and Boltons.

But there is a connection between Littlefinger, Winterfell and the godswood. Littlefinger has involved Sansa in several murders, Joffrey’s and Lysa’s being the more important (Dontos and Marillion also suffered murder and mutilation). The King’s murder was planned in the Red Keep’s goodswood, and Lysa’s murder was a direct consequence of Petyr kissing Sansa in the Eyrie’s goodswood.

Now Littlefinger is grooming Sansa, forcing sexual advances on her, and those started during the snow castle scene. The symbolic image of a giant invading Winterfell also plays as an innuendo:  

“May I come into your castle, my lady?” Sansa was wary. “Don’t break it. Be …” “… gentle?” He smiled. “Winterfell has withstood fiercer enemies than me. It is Winterfell, is it not?” “Yes,” Sansa admitted.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

The ambitious men that pursed Winterfell through marrying Sansa, also had to take her maidenhead and conceive an heir, in order to consolidate their claim to the castle and the north. So “coming into the castle” also means having sex and making children.      

Littlefinger is too machiavellian, it seems he has used the godswoods not only to trap Sansa but also to reenact his children fantasy of being Catelyn’s love:

I saw you kissing in the snow. She’s just like her mother. Catelyn kissed you in the godswood, but she never meant it, she never wanted you. Why did you love her best? It was me, it was always meeee!“

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

But Sansa, like Catelyn, never wanted and will never wants Petyr Baelish as lover.  

Meanwhile at the Wall…

Jon Snow

Unlike Theon, Jon doesn’t feel rejected by the heart of Winterfell. Jon got a direwolf sent by the old gods that shares the weirwood’s coloring:

Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre’s. He had a weirwood’s eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Unlike Theon that invaded Winterfell and allowed the Ironmen to sack, pillage, kill and rape. And later let the Boltons into the castle to burn it. Jon wants to rebuild Winterfell:

They can’t be dead. Theon would never do that. And Winterfell … grey granite, oak and iron, crows wheeling around the towers, steam rising off the hot pools in the godswood, the stone kings sitting on their thrones … how could Winterfell be gone?

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

Winterfell, he thought. Theon left it burned and broken, but I could restore it. Surely his father would have wanted that, and Robb as well. They would never have wanted the castle left in ruins.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Jon wanted Winterfell, as much as he had ever wanted anything, but unlike Tyrion, Jon rejects the castle in favor of Sansa. And Jon would never forced himself on Sansa if she doesn’t want him as well.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

I want her, he realized. I want Winterfell, yes, but I want her as well, child or woman or whatever she is. I want to comfort her. I want to hear her laugh. I want her to come to me willingly, to bring me her joys and her sorrows and her lust.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IV

The wording of these two passages (“He wanted it” / “I want her”), the Winterfell references, and the guilt and angst for desiring something forbidden (“May the gods forgive me” / “I want her as well, child or woman or whatever she is”), is way too similar to be a mere coincidence. Winterfell and Sansa are merged in the text.

Tyrion and Littlefinger sexually desire Sansa and used the same Winterfell reference as an innuendo:

"Come, wife, time to smash your portcullis. I want to play come-into-the-castle.”

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

“May I come into your castle, my lady?” Sansa was wary. “Don’t break it. Be …” “… gentle?” He smiled. “Winterfell has withstood fiercer enemies than me. It is Winterfell, is it not?” “Yes,” Sansa admitted.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Both Tyrion and Littlefinger have giant imagery around them, both even talk to her about the Giant of Braavos, both wanted Sansa politically (Winterfell) and sexually (her body), and Sansa has been prophesied slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow (Winterfell reference). I think that Jon might help her to fulfil that prophecy.

Indeed, Tyrion associates Sansa’s rejection of his advances as icy courtesy and compared that rejection with a castle wall and the Wall in the north:

“You hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall.” “Courtesy is a lady’s armor,” Sansa said. Her septa had always told her that.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Sansa’s misery was deepening every day. Tyrion would gladly have broken through her courtesy to give her what solace he might, but it was no good.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IV

He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy. […] He had always had a yen to see the Titan of Braavos. Perhaps that would please Sansa. Gently, he spoke of Braavos, and met a wall of sullen courtesy as icy and unyielding as the Wall he had walked once in the north. It made him weary. Then and now.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

But Sansa is “stronger within the walls of Winterfell” and Jon at the Wall is “the shield that guards the realms of men.”

Sansa also throws a handful of snow at Littlefinger’s face during the snow castle scene:

The Broken Tower was easier still. They made a tall tower together, kneeling side by side to roll it smooth, and when they’d raised it Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. “That was unchivalrously done, my lady.” “As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home.” She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

A handful of snow… Wouldn’t be awesome if Jon Snow continue the Stark men tradition to beat Littlefinger out?

I was always suspicious of Littlefinger helping Sansa build her snow castle, but since Petyr Baelish has giant imagery around him, it all makes sense after reading this passage:

She looked as if she thought he was making that up. “How could men build so high, with no giants to lift the stones?” In legend, Brandon the Builder had used giants to help raise Winterfell, but Jon did not want to confuse the issue. “Men can build a lot higher than this. In Oldtown there’s a tower taller than the Wall.” He could tell she did not believe him.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon V

Sansa will be certainly grateful if she can take advantage of any help Baelish could offer to rebuild Winterfell, but she will slay him anyway, as in the songs:

“If the tales be true, that’s not the first giant to end up with his head on Winterfell’s walls.” “Those are only stories,” she said, and left him there.

— A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Unlike Petyr’s forced kisses, Sansa associates “snow” with lover’s kisses:

Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks.

— A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Unlike Petyr, that has used the godswoods of the Red Keep and the Eyrie, to lie and trap Sansa, and is an awful replacement as a father figure for Sansa, Jon would never lie to Sansa in front of the old gods, like Ned taught him:  

Jon said, “My lord father believed no man could tell a lie in front of a heart tree. The old gods know when men are lying.”

—A Clash of Kings - Jon II

As I said before, if Jon had accepted Stannis’s offer, he would have had Winterfell, but at an extremely high price: burning the weirwood tree, which, to him, would be sacrilege:

When Jon closed his eyes he saw the heart tree, with its pale limbs, red leaves, and solemn face. The weirwood was the heart of Winterfell, Lord Eddard always said … but to save the castle Jon would have to tear that heart up by its ancient roots, and feed it to the red woman’s hungry fire god. I have no right, he thought. Winterfell belongs to the old gods.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Sansa feels empty like a godswood without gods, like a godswood without a weirwood tree, mostly because she lost Lady, but also because she feels like a lone wolf without its pack, and a body without its heart due to the extreme disillusionment she has suffered so far.

But Jon Snow has a direwolf that is a symbol of the weirwood tree, Jon himself is a symbol of the weirwood tree. And Sansa has become a symbol of Winterfell and the godswood, but she feels empty without her wolf. Then Ghost might complete Sansa’s empty godswood, and Jon might fill Sansa’s heart again. And together they could be a pack. And together they could rebuild their home. Please play North by Sleeping at Last here.  

So…

…One would have to wonder why GRRM is always comparing and contrasting Sansa’s suitors with her bastard half brother Jon Snow? What is the reason for that? Does that mean that something romantic will happen between Sansa and Jon in the future? Is that just a mere coincidence? If the same thing (Sansa’s suitor being compared and contrasted with Jon Snow) happened three times, can we really call it a mere coincidence? One would have to wonder… Why?    

From:  i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) - Jon Snow, Sansa Stark & Winterfell. An exploration.

[themattress]

One Villainous Scene - Dichotomy of a Desperate Soul

Oh, Rumple. Rumple, Rumple, Rumple.....this is a villain who has gone through some astronomical highs and some subterranean lows across his seven year existence (much, much longer than that in-universe). But regardless of this, I don’t think anyone can deny that in the first season at least he was a beautifully conceived and executed character, and one scene in the past and in the present back-to-back is all you need to show just why that is.

In the eighth episode of the series, “Desperate Souls”, we have the origin story of how Rumpelstiltskin became the Dark One as the flashback narrative. A cowardly peasant who was on the verge of having his young son Baelfire taken away to serve in the Ogre Wars, Rumple was guided by the current Dark One into stealing the dagger that is the source of his power and stabbing him with it, killing him and transferring the Dark One position from him to Rumple. When Rumple asks the dying Dark One why he chose him of all people to pass the power onto, the haunting reply he receives is “I know how to recognize a desperate soul”. Meanwhile, in the present narrative, Emma Swan enters a deal with Rumple’s modern day alter ego Mr. Gold that will have him support her campaign for sheriff, which she is doing to restore hope to her demoralized son Henry. But when Mr. Gold’s help turns out to be of questionable legality and morality, Emma publicly denounces him for this and drops out of the election. The people of Storybrooke are so impressed by her courage and nobility that they elect her as sheriff anyway. And this leads us to both narrative’s interlinked conclusions.

In the past, Rumple reveals himself as the new Dark One to the soldiers who had earlier made him kneel to them and kiss their leader’s boot. When he demands the same from the leader, he brutally murders him before he can even finish doing so, and then does the same to all of his men....right in front of his son, no less. Baelfire is now terrified of his father, but Rumple doesn’t seem to be phased by this. “I protected what belongs to me....and I’m not scared of anything!”  And there he gives the game away: he may love his son, but he never became the Dark One for Baelfire’s sake. This was all done for his own sake. He saw Baelfire as something primarily existing for his benefit and clearly disregards his own thoughts and feelings as seen in how he doesn’t care about how much he’s scaring him now. And the desire for power in order to no longer be a coward and exact bloody vengeance on all those who ever slighted him existed long before Baelfire was drafted...the desperation that situation caused him merely gave him the excuse to finally act upon that desire. There was darkness dwelling in Rumple’s heart to begin with...and as the Dark One, it was brought out in full.

In the present, Mr. Gold reveals to Emma that he has played her. He resorted to evil means to help her knowing that she would find out and react exactly the way that she did, and that the townspeople would elect her on the basis of being brave enough to stand up to him. While Emma seems to be the polar opposite of Rumple, that sense of desperation, particularly where their children are involved, was enough of a similarity for Gold to seize on. And to express just how far he has fallen and how little empathy he has for Emma despite that similarity, he tells her the same thing the previous Dark One told him: “I know how to recognize a desperate soul”. The Rumple we see as the Dark One in the flashback scene and the one we see before us now are drastically different - while the former indulges in his basest desires and flaunts his power for the simplest of reasons that, while dark, are human, the latter is subtle and sneaky, exercising power in ways that aren’t apparent until it’s too late...and as his reminder to Emma of the favor she owes him shows, he is expertly playing the long game and just might be seeking to achieve sinister aspirations on a grand scale.

At his best, Rumpelstiltskin / Mr. Gold was a villain you just could not keep your eyes off of, one who kept you guessing as to what their angle was and if you could trust him at any given point, if ever. Robert Carlyle was chillingly brilliant in both of the character’s guises, and even now it’s hard for me to hear “Rumpelstiltskin” and not think of his take on the fairy tale baddie.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hello I hope you are doing well, I was wondering if you could do a part 3 of blokes on wheels

Blokes On Wheels

5th Second Masterlist | Blokes on Wheels; Part One | Part Two

Summary | Ashton is conflicted, and confides once more in the only person that he can; Calum. It so happens that the bassist is babysitting Lacey, and has some things to reveal to the drummer himself

Warnings | angst, unrequited feelings, slight references to sex, fluff, flashbacks

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

He stared at the child of his friend’s, picking out her features. Admittedly she was a beautiful baby, but he could see how Luke stared at him through her, the resemblance uncanny, and scary. The thought that he dove head first into this proposition, and the offspring, that he would not be allowed to call his own child, or inform of the truth, and coming out looking like him, would be his worst dream.

At least, if it was a perfect replica of yourself, then he’d only know of his genetical connection to it, and it wouldn’t be blatantly shamed in front of his face. “Dude, chill, it’s not like you’re being told that you have to go through with it, I actually think it might be better if you don’t.”

Calum spoke, placing a glass on the coffee table, sitting on the couch beside Ash, as he rested Lacey upon his lap, bouncing her on his knee causing giggles to emit from her small chest. “What do you mean?” Ash frowned, cocking his head towards the bassist, having a feeling that he would not at all like what left his mouth.

“I mean... you like y/n. Getting involved in this isn’t fair for anyone, if anything, I’d even say that it’s a bit selfish mate.” He gulped, allowing the words to sink in, as he glanced once more at Lacey. “If she finds out, or Luke, do you know how guilty they’d feel for putting this decision on you?”

“What am I supposed to do then?” The elder male asked, plucking his nails against his knuckles, to ease his serious nerves. It was true, the entire ordeal was one of great pressure, he’d not even be able to tell his mum that he had a kid out in the world, less so of who the mother was.

“Nothing.” Calum simply answered, allowing Lacey to play with the chords of his hoodie, momentarily smiling down at the growing infant. “You do nothing, I’ve got the rest covered.”

“Wait-“ Ashton thought for a second, before accusing his friend of getting involved. “Did you offer to take my spot?” He furrowed his brows firmly, listening as Lacey babbled, the noises feeling like laughter at his expense.

Laughter that meant that her future sibling was to not be spawned from him, mocking his loneliness and his affections towards her mother. “I protected you Ash from your own impulses. Do nothing, and let every go about in a more calm route, otherwise there will be drama, and you won’t be the only one hurt.”

“You’re probably right, I’ll think on it.” Ash mumbled, breathing in, filling his lungs with air so that he could bring more light to his mind. “I wish I could go back to the days that I saw her as a friend, and I didn’t care if her and Luke were together. Things were simpler in the old days.”

“They sure were buddy.” Cal nodded, feeling great sympathy for his friend. It wasn’t every day that Ash happened to fall for someone, but this time, the instance was definitely the worst, there were far too many complications.

Ash walked into the hotel room, unraveling the bandana from his head, finding you laying upon Luke’s chest, both of you trapped in a deep slumber. He was relieved that the two of you had finished your business before he decided to walk in, now he would not have to suffer through the pain of hearing his two best friends going at it.

Thanks to that bet, he was always stuck in a room with you and Luke, if the hotels were full, and the pair of you were unable to get your own space. Mikey and Cal were the lucky ones, pulling the long straws whilst Ashton had been stuck with the short.

A smile creeped onto the drummer’s face as he glanced at the pair of you, getting changed for bed, as he listened to Luke’s snoring and your own tiresome sounds. The babies of the band, that was what the two of you were.

He held in a snort at the sight of Luke, his quiff was tousled hardly keeping shape, as it had indents of where your fingers had ran through. The pair of you were adorable, everyone knew that nothing could split the two of you up, including the media.

And frankly, if the two of you had never been an item, Ashton was sure that none of you would be where you were now; on tour and gifted with fame. “Night guys.” He mumbled happily as he got under his own covers, turning the light off, and hitting the hay.

“It’s almost been too long that we’ve had a night to ourselves.” You mumbled against your husband’s chest, dragging your lips along the hairs that were rooted out from his skin. His arm wrapped around your bare back, pulling your face up to his as he met you with a chaste as sweet kiss.

“Definitely.” He spoke, brushing your hair out of your face, biting his lip as he looked at your gorgeous face. “I love you Mrs Hemmings. You do know exactly how to make me feel better, even if I’m incapable of giving you what you want.”

“You are everything I want.” You frowned, cupping his face and stroking his light scruff with the pads of your thumbs. “You and Lacey are my family Lu, and no matter what route we take, we’ll have another baby, so long as that’s still something that you want?”

“It is.” He admired, brushing his nose against yours. “Cal said he’ll be a fall back if Ashton decides he doesn’t want to be involved in this whole baby making thing.”

“That’s rather nice of him.” You smiled, staring into the azure eyes of your husband, thinking of how you could always rely on your band mates; they were always there for you when you fell on your feet, and for more serious concerns, including this disadvantage that the pair of you had stumbled across. “I guess we’ll see.”

“I guess we will.”

“I can’t see!” You squealed out in the showers backstage, after soap falling in your eyes, trying to brush it out with water, but finding, despite using such a method in the past, that it had not helped. “Can someone get me a towel? Luke?”

Ashton rushed around, grabbing the material you and brought with you to dry your hair, covering his eyes as he passed it over, respecting your decency, having some modesty himself. “There you go.”

“What would I do without you Ash?” You laughed as you wiped your eyes, after pausing the spray of water that was warming your body. You draped it over the side, next rubbing your eyes with your fingers, them feeling sore from the foam that had sunk into them.

“Probably go blind.” He chuckled, having faced away from you, finding it relaxing to speak to you, more so with the stream of water that continued, bringing a peaceful aura to the small talk.

“At least then you’d be my eyes and ears, old man.” He was 21, but by now, he was used to you poking fun at him being older, and still looking as though he were a drop out like the rest of you.

“No, I think not. The things that happen between you and Lucas, I have no intention of seeing. I’ve seen enough from another perspective, I’m not gonna be some voyeur for your own aid.” A laugh escaped from you as you rinsed any remnants of shampoo out of your hair, reaching for the conditioner, squeezing a dollop out onto your palm.

“Don’t lie, you love us Irwin.” He shook his head, snorting a little, as he tapped his foot against the floor.

“Never said I didn’t, but I don’t want in on free porn your sex life. I for sure don’t want to see how you conceive your future children.” He jokingly gagged, causing you to roll your shampoo free eyes at his dismissal, reaching out to lightly shove him and push him away with a wet hand.

“If you say so drummer boy.” Oh, how things had changed.