#and deliberately misunderstanding what you are trying to say. i think its a mistake to try to say its a generational problem

[crepuscularqueens]

i guess the thing with treating twitter like you are in an educational institution and trying to provoke thoughtful answers to thoughtful questions and expecting the questions you receive will in turn be thoughtful is that that is simply not what everyone else on twitter is there for

[roseworth]

You are both an Arrowfamily and Jason Todd fan account so I thought you would be the best person to ask this but: What do you think the Arrowfamily members opinion on Jason are?

ooooh i love this question.. i think a lot of people jump straight to "they would hate him" because of his fight with mia but!!! i don't think thats entirely true!!!!! some of them would hate him but not all of them </3 i feel like the people that claim they would all hate him have a fundamental misunderstanding of the arrows and what they stand for, not to mention deliberately misconstruing what the the jason & mia fight actually was and pretending it was a lot worse than what actually happened. but thats just my opinion

ollie absolutely would hate him though lmao. he would never get over the fact that jason kidnapped, fought, & tried to blow up his daughter. no forgiveness ever. if jason HADNT fought mia though i think ollie would like him or at the very least tolerate him. ollie very clearly has no issue with murdering bad guys (as seen in ga88) and would be completely on board with anyone who goes out of his way to fuck with batman constantly <3 also in my humble opinion ollie shouldve been a cosmic mistake in countdown due to him coming back to life because parallax put him back together, which would have been hilarious and would absolutely have ended in them getting along (until jason goes through like his fifth breakdown in that book, because he would absolutely lash out at ollie after watching that one version of bruce die. but thats a whole separate tangent)

dinah also would hate him for trying to kill mia, but probably not as intensely as ollie. but even without that issue i dont think dinah would like him, mostly because hes the worst and i dont think dinah would have the patience to put up with him. she wouldnt have a huge problem with the killing (she wouldnt NOT have a problem with it but i really dont think it would be an unforgivable issue for her), but she would just think hes kind of an asshole about it and she wouldnt like him at all. i also think theres a panel somewhere where jason says that dinah told him she hates him personally?? idk ive only seen screenshots of it but i think its funny so im incorporating it into my belief system

with roy... i feel like there are so many people that see rhato and swing to the opposite side of the pendulum and say that roy would hate jason but i dont think thats true at all. im a rhato hater because that is Not Roy so we're disregarding that, but i still think they would get along tbh! given that roy is deeply in love with a serial killer i think that the people who say he would hate jason are misunderstanding who roy is. i think when theyre both in character they actually have personalities that would mesh well together and they COULD get along really well. i dont see roy having a Big Problem with jason killing people (he would try to stop him from doing it but murder wouldnt be a dealbreaker for roy) so i think its fair to say they would actually get along!!! but i bitch and complain every time they show up in the same panel because now the damage has been done from rhato so i dont want them to interact in canon. only in the secret world in my head. in regards to jason fighting mia, i dont know how to say it but,,, i dont think roy would have a huge issue with it. he certainly wouldnt be happy about it but also he wasnt there so i feel like all he would know about it was that jason kidnapped mia one time but mia was fine. honestly i think that he would be more interested in brothers in blood bc dick would def mention that jason murdered people in a nightwing costume then turned into a tentacle monster and tried to eat someone but dick forgave him anyway. and once he hears that suddenly the mia thing seems inconsequential in comparison

with connor... i cant lie im a little biased because connor is a member of my dream outlaws team but i really think they would at least kind of get along! connor is not the type of person to hold a grudge at all so once mia forgives him (which ill get into in a sec) connor wouldnt have a problem with him. he WOULD have a problem with jason killing people but he's close with eddie so clearly he doesnt have that much of an issue with working with people who have killed before as long as they dont kill in front of him. and i think that jason has a healthy respect for anyone who can beat him in a fight and because of that he would not kill anyone when hes around connor. i also think that connor and jason would never fight because connor would never throw the first punch and jason would never start a fight that he knows he cant win (but thats once again a whole separate tangent). basically i dont think they'd be besties or anything, i dont think theres a world where they'd ever even consider themselves friends. but i do think they'd get along well enough to not hate each other

okay now finally mia. kind of a controversial take but i really think she'd forgive him for kidnapping her! she absolutely would not forgive him IMMEDIATELY because it fucked her up so she would be pissed about it for a while, but also? i think she completely understood what he was trying to do. he wasnt really hurting her specifically (like yeah he hurt her but he made it a fair fight and he wasnt beating down on her or anything. she also hit him so it evens out) and he was actually trying to talk TO her and relate to her. and it was working!!! he didnt force her to do anything except fight (in a fight where he untied her and gave her her weapons), so once she got some distance from the event i think she'd forgive him. it would take a while for her to actually forgive him enough for them to actually get along, but i genuinely think they would. theyre extremely similar people and i think they would really be good friends if given the chance, but it would take a looooong time for mia to be comfortable enough to be around him enough to consider him a friend since the fight definitely fucked her up. but it is possible for them to eventually be close, and i think they could be really good friends

honorable mentions: - i dont know emiko well enough to know for sure (i havent read new52 or rebirth green arrow so i havent read much with her </3) but from what i know i think they would get along - lian would have no opinion of him whatsoever. at most she sees him as her uncle's brother. i truly dont think she'd care enough about him to form a positive or negative opinion about him - i dont like sienna so i dont want to acknowledge her but for the sake of the post. she doesnt like jason because dinah doesnt like jason and she says "i hate everyone that black canary hates <3" - cissie is not a member of the arrowfamily but she wouldnt like him because she absolutely would have an issue with any murderous vigilante given that she almost killed someone one time and had a huge breakdown, so anyone that kills people for the Greater Good and continues to do so would not sit right with her - i have absolutely no basis for this but shado would hate him for no reason. no specific beef with him about his morals or his actions, she just wouldnt like his vibes. sorry to talk about rose (no im not) but she would see rose hanging out with jason and go "im so happy for you and your ugly fucking boyfriend im serious" - eddie and jason would get along like a housefire. there is not a doubt in my mind that they would bond instantly (ok not instantly because they both hate everyone and would probably start with trying fight each other. THEN they would bond) and it would be catastrophic for everyone involved 🫶

ok i think thats everyone. or at least everyone that matters. never forget that all my opinions are 100% correct at all times

[euroquision]

EuroQuision is no longer active (...sort of)

Hello friends! It has been only 5 days since I've had to peace the f*ck out of Twitterland, the odorous theme park with more bots than Disney has animatronics. After making the mistake of trying to speak critically of all presidential options and instead emphasizing the relevance of local and state elections, my once-reliable and loveably problematic community turned full Blue Conservative and came to the following conclusions about me in a span of 48 hours:

I'm a Russia-sympathizer / trying to spread pro-Russia propaganda

I do not care about the rights of any woman, non-white person, or queer/trans citizen of the US

I want Tr*mp to win the election

And all in all ppl agreeing that I was at one time bearable, but now am just annoying and braindead

How did we come to those four conclusions? Well, points 2, 3, and 4 all came from the very act of stating I won't vote for Kamala or any presidential candidate and will only instead focus my online discussion on politics about local and state elections. Point number 1 was because I also had the *audacity* to suggest Jill Stein as a 3rd party candidate after so many Liberal followers of mine kept complaining for "another option if you hate Kamala so much." Little did I know that Jill Stein has said and done some pretty Russia-sympathetic things in the past. But even though I did not know this whatsoever until July 23rd, people took that and ran, saying I'm a Russia supporter or propagating for them. Now, the very fact that people who have followed me for YEARS could think that's suddenly true really tells me what kind of "crowd" we're dealing with on Twitter. Despite the fact the twitter eurofan community has on-record been wonderful, welcoming, proactive, and geopolitically aware, I'm reminded that no community is going to be perfect, and the kind of political discussions I have with people in the world is not the convo Twitter eurofans want to have. So even though my feelings were deeply hurt and I legitimately mourned the loss of what I wanted to continue being a growing thing now being lost. But a few very smart, emotionally mature people in my life reached out to me and helped reassure me that despite the chaos, things said about me for the intention of just being awful aren't true.

Anyway, that's the only time I wanna waste talking about twitter, because I'm someone who talks my shit and stands on it too. Yeah, sometimes my shit will stink, and I can admit that when it does. I am not immune to the behavior I just faced; I've been there too dunking on people who deserve it -- like Adam or Shawn from EuroTikTok hopping the pond to tell everyone on twitter they suck and then getting mad when ppl don't like that and dunk on them back. However, on a topic like this and with so much deliberate misunderstanding fueling the snide indignation from people who would've called me "bestie" a day earlier feels *different.* So different to the point where I legitimately considered wiping EuroQuision from the internet. But I chose not to, and here's why!

First, I think there needs to be as much tangible, shareable evidence of public scrutiny of systems of power that are corrupt, and that goes for the ridiculous circus that is Eurovision. Ppl will be so quick to call it "unserious" while ignoring countries put millions of dollars into this every year. Last I checked, gov'ts don't pour money like that into something "unserious." There's a reason Eurovision is as big as it is and how the inclusion of "Israel" is so monumentally complicated. So I want the internet, for as long as possible, to be something that can contain the evidence of people saying "I disagree with the EBU's decisions about these world events. I disagree with their treatment of colonized populations and prioritizing of safeguarding European/White optics and feelings throughout its entire history." And even though good things have genuinely come from ESC's existence (globalization, musical/cultural expression, Ukraine's 2016 win, etc), we can see ESC 2024 itself as an example how in the bubble of ESC, the show itself will only let you remember the good parts. No live show will E V E R dare to show the footage of HATARI in the 2019 televote, and we know the EBU will deplatform their own Eric Saade for *gasp!* having a scarf on his wrist. ESC history is *revisionist* history, and the crowd on twitter only seems to be temporarily concerned about that.

So yeah, inevitably I came to the conclusion that every human must come to: Twitter ain't it, like goddamn. But I'm only here to say that once and move on with my life because despite my final tweet and deactivation of my Patreon, EuroQuision is NOT gone and will not actually be stopping. Consider this a shift in scope and purpose, along with reprioritizing my real life responsibilities. Firstly, about the Patreon: I deactivated it and more than likely will not make another in the future purely because I know that in the future, EQ cannot keep up the production schedule needed to make what I wanted to make and promise to deliver to people like I want. Most importantly, I want to create things for EQ without the additional pressure of trying to cultivate, retain, and reward a growing audience when I know I won't be able to maintain that long term. This way there's less pressure on myself, and I will develop a better relationship with it all.

So, what's EuroQuision gonna be now? Well, it's not really gonna be a "fan" account, mostly considering I have no reason to be a "fan" or Eurovision from here on out/until some drastic changes are made. Instead, I wanna continue being a wide variety of things: musical analyst, historian, fun-fact-provider, overall nerd, and most of all: Protester. To put it into context: I currently have two YouTube video essays; one about the boycott, and one about nightcore. Even though I deeply love both videos and am proud of the effort I put into them, I can easily say which one was worth the time and effort. No shame to my Nightcore roots, but I think the more "important" topics are going to be what I dedicate my YouTube real estate to in the future. On that note, I'll also be on tumblr and reddit much more! I truly love writing and discussing Eurovision at length, and not over quips and punches in the form of 200-ish character tweets. I have too much to say and we can also see the ways communication is truncated by-design thanks to Twitter, and therefore incidents like the one we went through up above are likely to happen.

I wanna end this VERY long post off with a very specific declaration of a couple things that will never change from the EQ name: Free Palestine now and forever. Free Ukraine, Sudan, Congo, EVERY country and person put in harm's way because of the American empire. I do not enable fascism to remedy fascism, and my practiced ethics will always prioritize my community, my family, and the people around the world my elected leaders tell me I should hate. I will continue to donate 100% of my TikTok revenue and possible YouTube revenue to Palestinian relief funds. I do not support the financial or social support/apologism of the EBU.

Anyway, I think I covered all my bases, and if you're someone who disagrees with any stance or belief I've stated in this thesis (lol), kindly just allow yourself to unfollow/not engage with me. Tumblr and Reddit will be around for my ramblings and theories. As for YouTube, I can tell you now that I have a LARGE video essay in the works right now. Literally NO idea when it'll be done/released, but it exists! Thank you for being here, if you still choose to do so!

[rametarin]

Personally I think a lot of the shit happening in the states on the right wing side of politics has less to do with any genuine concern of "the harmful LGBT ideology attacking our children that's evil and wrong" and more just the latest in a long line of "the republican party can't function without some group to point at and say 'that's the enemy you must hate them'" I mean think about it. Mcarthyism, the war on terrorism, the Mexicans, now its the LGBT. I'm not saying the democrats don't have similar issues so don't take this statement as clearing them of any wrongdoing. But yeah in a couple years I bet they won't be able to generate enough public outrage over it and will start to target some new group instead because it's all politics not genuine moral concern. Sorry for rambling.

Gonna stop you right there at the McCarthyism; that's wrong. Socialists and communists throughout the US through the early 1900s right up through the cold war got their literature and inspiration from leftist college professors, advocates, guerilla agitators and that cross pollenated with partisans and pseudo-intellectuals, that deliberately fed into American counterculture.

That one was not incorrect. They did, actually, conspire with labor unions not for the purposes of securing rights for labor or people, but consolidating power and taking over businesses from the sidelines. Which was their intention of co-opting and parasitism, to begin with. "There is no you, without us."

"McCarthyism" is revisionism by those that seized the means of printing the history books in the federated school system.

The War on Terrorism was never solely a right wing war, either. And while one is forgiven for believing it started at 9/11, it very much was only officially kicked off at that point.

but there's more.

It's also incorrect to think the religious people and the social reactionaries with particular animus against homosexuality and transgenderism are only doing it now and only against LGBT because "they need someone to fight against." That is a very egregious misunderstanding of their actual problem, and even though their issue with it is either misguided or VERY wrong depending on the case, no, it is absolutely a mistake to think, "those republicans just always need someone to fight against." That is a fiction I will not support. It's a wishful misinterpretation of the situation, and no positive or productive resolution can come from trying to handle it this way.

The reason 'the republicans' have issues with LGBT are a few fold, and actually are an overlap of a few different interests. The only thing they have in common is the outcome, but the reasoning for their concern comes from different places. And it's not limited to republicans, it's just louder there since the competing interests that believe the same things among the democrats are shut out by the overarching party values and populism there. And they're not dividing enough for Vote Blue No Matter Who to jump ship to vote republican.

The Religious Interest: This particular group among what today are right leaning republicans have a particular religious lens through which they see reality. This can vary dramatically between individuals, as religious cultures do, but all of them err on the side of religious culture sentiments on what reality means and how it works. And to them, God/nature created things a certain way. They see male and female not just as self-evident biological reality, but immutable characteristics applied to man by divine mandate that should not be modified. When you believe good and evil are effectively more real in the souls of man than periodic elements on the table, and that God's intention and spirit and word are absolute and not to be questioned or told, "I know better than you," everything from marriage rites under God, to sexual policy under God, to reproduction under God, to the way one sex relates to the other under God, is thrown into jeopardy.

These ones are ideologues and are themselves diverse, and while they may not all follow the same literature or preacher of said literature, they agree on the same things; that to be gay is to be at its most innocent, incorrect or defective, and at worst, possessed by the devil to various degrees of willful to unknowing. Everything must fit into the way their religion subscribes to reality, everyone must march in lockstep to their values of right and wrong and what something is and why and how, or else it's either in error or evil.

But the religious LGBT-phobes are not alone.

The Sociologists: These ones may have a few sentiments borrowed or sympathetic with the religious ones, either as vague interests or guides, even secularly, but they largely err on the side of earthly things. Even though they do try to rationalize why a society doing or not doing a thing may be in error, it's largely but not necessarily totally on the basis of secularism and science. Except when it isn't. And that's a crucial distinction.

And, unfortunately, this does include some of the worst examples of trying to use a social value system to arbitrarily determine something "harmful" and not. You'll know these ones by their constant use of the term, "degeneracy" for "icky" things, and tend to conflate "pedophile" with LGBT the way far-leftists try and make everybody that disagrees with them into fascists. Even if their beliefs do not include celebrity focal political figures, militarism as the source and center of their movement, or a culture that subsumes the individual to the will of the idea of the nation or collective.

The alt-right sits at the far end of this spectrum when they talk about how LGBT are "degeneracy" and "signs of a crumbling civilization" and "corruption." But they themselves do not embody every sociological reason someone may have LGBT views. I'll speak of them next, but they do not embody the pure sociological anti-LGBT view.

Secular anti-LGBT tries to come at anti-LGBT from the idea that somehow not suppressing homosexuality among males and females leads to a destruction of art, science and culture the way letting 2 year olds draw whatever they want inevitably leads some naughty jerk to just drawing dicks and vaginas everywhere and turning the classroom into a bawdy fight cloud of chaos. That it breaks down marriage and disrupts a healthy, ordered society and leaves behind a wreck for the generation to follow, purely because gay was considered a thing to permit. Similarly, to transgendered rights and validation. But also, the view this sexual openness will inherently and inescapably lead to socially sanctioned zoophilia and pederastry

This is not inherently true, but sadly, it's coincidentally not 100% untrue if you know too much about Foucoult and Simone de Beauvoir. But by and large, the conclusion comes from not knowing anything about actual leftist initiatives to "liberalize" sexuality involving childen and animals and comes purely from their own cynical assumptions about where we'd be if not for only validating cisheterosexuality as the end all be all of sexuality. It's untrue, because they reached this conclusion in the absence of worldly data, and then they find worldly data that fits their preonceived or desired notion. The fact that you can find such LGBT sympathetic organizations just reinforces their worldview.

And then we come to the unholy marriage of these two things.

The alt-right view: Considered the most dangerous is a mix of the two. These things are a marriage of the rationalist secular view about societies and social contracts and moralism mixed with religious traditionalism and originism.

Unrestrained by singularly real things, this can encompass everything from a literal take on Reagan's, "shining city on a hill" seeing the United States, or your home nation here, as a holy and wholly wonderful space and construct endowed by creation as a singularly amazing thing in time and space. They may see LGBT as intruding on that glorious image they concoct for themselves at best, and a corruptive, corrosive element that seeks to unmake it, at worst. It's a gradient and no two alt-righters likely share a similar mythology, but they'll agree that LGBT doesn't fit into their grand vision of what they like, is.

But here's the thing: Alt-righters are fewer in number than literal communists across the United States. They're insignificant. The only purpose they serve is to create an end-stage bad guy with some characteristics tangentially similar to those that are either not religious fundamentalists, nor national socialists, and a magnifying glass is held up to them to go, "SEE!? SEE!?!? I TOLD YOU THAT REPUBLICAN WAS JUST AN ALT-RIGHTER!" Because to them, any opponent with any opposing views is as bad as the worst of the worst, and it's important to make people think not only are the worst of the worst more populous than you think, but more people than you think are among them, and if they share any of those characteristics, owing to being similar to the worst example caricature, they must also be an example or but a few nodes removed from the most threatening caricature, and hence, be imminently dangerous.

Far-leftists have a thing where they desperately want any resistance to be seen as Nazis, without exception. Because if you are a Nazi and oppose their beliefs, your reasons are never good and can be discarded without even a rebuttal beyond a punch in the face. So, their goal becomes to undermine and redefine all your opposition as either Nazis, in league with Nazis and acting in bad faith, or part of a sprawling system that means even if you're acting in good faith, just the fact you're resisting them proves you're tangentially and subconsciously motivated by Nazism so far removed from you that it permeates you unconsciously through your society's default state, and you don't even know it. So when constantly calling someone a Nazi doesn't work, in the past, they'd call them far-right, which they made synonymous with Nazi; until the kids started rejecting that just because you were nationalistic and individualist that inherently made you a Nazi, just because you weren't open borders and collectivist.

When the actual social collectivist more self-identifying right wingers collaborated to distinguish themselves, the left HAPPILY took to putting the fact they existed under a microscope and started screaming about how, "THE GRAND RIGHT-WING MOVEMENT IS IMMINENT! QUICK, PUNCH A NAZI, QUICKLY!" in what had to be the most transparent and political psychodrama ever to stir up negative sentiment and give their group social points and the kids something to rebel against. Even if the actual threat posed was nill and they just saw vague fascimilles in mostly unrelated but similar organizations.

So that brings me to this point, explaining the sources of their resistance. And it's a mistake to think that the only source of it is erratic irrational rage, or just needing an enemy to fight to spur up the troops.

The source of conservative and republican apprehension for LGBT comes from the initial disgust at the idea of trying to pathologize and normalize non-standard sexualities and genders, but also it comes from suspecting ulterior motives from ideological opposition as to why they're being given platforms. Most haven't researched it, most haven't found actual evidence or proof, but they smell a rat, and therefore conclude not only is LGBT inconvenient, but a poisonous pill being pushed under perilous pretenses.

And to their credit, it's not 100% wrong. Look at the history (embarrassing) of ideological political lesbianism that was popular socially among radical leftist sapphic/gynophilic feminists throughout the 60s to 90s. That social culture that pushed the idea, based on using Marxist and class struggle theorist political lenses, that A.) woman was oppressed B.) by the transitive property of oppressor/oppresed class dynamics, the sex of man was therefore her oppressor. C.) there could be no ethical sex and romance under 'patriarchy.' D.) All marriage and relationships between males and females, under this ridiculous view, were therefore incapable of being consented to and were therefore a form of rape.

Because this is what Marxist and similar political ideologies do. They latch on to a natural phenomenon and pathologize it and try to imagine a cause and source into being that fits their preconceived notion, which just so happens to be trying to convince one party that the other party in the room is threatening to kill or abuse them, and "help the underdog fight back against their oppressor!" then celebrate with them right after. Right before making them dig their own grave and supplanting them with bullets to the head.

Political lesbians made a ruckus trying to understand and push this psycho-social view of how sexuality and society and relationships and theory works while choking back their own heterosexuality, and it made them as miserable as any gay person that tries to suppress their own homosexuality to exist in a society and culture where being gay isn't considered legitimate at best and acknowledged but considered wrong or dangerous. When left wing political groups are picking up your cause, if they're the authoritarian socialist or communist types, there's always an angle and an area of subversion and exploitation to them.

In the United States, picking up a minority to use them as a spear tip, an undefeatable argument that you need to argue against and thus incriminate yourself as against that minority to stop what they've been weaponized to do and thus alienate yourself to your next generation in the history books, is old hat. But eventually, this exploitation breaks down.

Trying to argue black rights and black nationalism and cultural/ethnic separatism was a social justice throughout the 60s and then a resurgency in the 90s and leading up to the 10s; People silently got tired of it and abandoned ship, and it collapsed and imploded. Trying to argue gay rights from the position that sexuality is a "choice" and being "queer" was a decision and a political minority culture, and not just an indivisible and natural state of being (one might call that, 'bioessentialism' today) eventually culminated in LGBT shrugging off the social constructionist views and arguing for gay rights on the basis of immutable and unchangable and benign sexual attraction, not arbitrary rebellion, or sexual trauma, or conspiracy, did more for progress than political lesbianism and the values and legislation imagined for that, could ever do.

Whether ethnic rights or sexual minority rights, trying to use them to argue for more "social justice" and seize power and narrative of legislation for their ideological solutions, seldom works. But they're going to keep trying to elevate minorities out of the interests of politicizing and exploiting their cause, as cover for their own.

Which kind of does the work of society for it, which is why I think they let only the most uninformed morons argue against them. It creates victims and reveals the faces and thus gives fodder for caricaturizations opposing them, and creates a tone and conversation for the younger generation to study and learn from before making their decisions on how to resolve it, without too awful much effort on behalf of the state.

In my view, the consensus on trans rights will be such that the process to clinicize the dysphoria will continue on the basis of medical diagnosis and a better, more accurate criteria based not on bias or preference by the state or the diagnoser will be used to more astutely differentiate gender dysphoria from ideological dysphoria, and devices or clinical tools developed to tell the difference.

Having a more objective method to diagnose gender dyshphoria will mean the argument, "gender is a purely self-identification phenomenon" will go away. The same as the argument for a deist, creationist, geocentrist universe went away with the revelation we revolve around the sun, and so any religious view where the cosmic bodies revolving around the earth is wrong.

And similarly, that will mean the movement occurring between the lines and in the corners in the far left that is trying to argue that there should not BE any biological or empirical origins to whether somthing is considered male or female based on biological states, merely self-identification, will by necessity go away. Because it argues through appropriation of gendered language that chromosomes and secondary sexual characteristics should no more determine whether you are linguistically and socially male or female gendered, than your blood type or stool sample should affect your pronouns. Just like sexuality being revealed to be inborn and static and not at all "chosen" made Political Lesbianism into a mockable phenomenon, after society asked itself whether sexuality was a choice or part of your makeup, and determined definitely, the only people that could choose, were themselves bisexual. For everybody else, it was not a matter of preference. It was a matter of immutable taste.

After that you will have transgendered people welcomed more often among mainstream republicans and the wing of conservatives opposing them will be as marginalized as the ones that believe all vaccinations are wrong are marginalized; and yes, outside the COVID debacle, even the republicans marginalize the ones that see all vaccinations as snake oil.

It is true that there are republicans that get visibly outrageously mad about homosexuals, racially integrated schools, vaccinations, etc. But those ones will absolutely get more screen time and space in the papers, specifically because ideological opposition wants others to think these are normalized, mainstream, dominant positions held by most right wingers. It will always be like this. Especially among newspapers that do not want to print similar things about the way hate is expressed among progressives, and in fact seek to neutralize anything that may give them and by extension their beliefs and movements, bad press.

It's not true that the only thing keeping them going is outrage. And anyone banking on that simply will not understand what keeps them going if that outrage ever runs out and the conclusion they live with seems anathema to what they are. They may even come to the conclusion that there's been any sort of transformation or change. When no.. you aren't really seeing them for what they are.

[tamelee]

Do you think sarada was a test tube baby or was her conception just shady? Sasuke and especially Sakura's behaviour make them look so weirdly guilty

There is no answer to that I believe?

I think Kishimoto used Gaiden as a last attempt stab at ‘Boruto’ with more questions than they can answer that they’re now trying to “fix”.. hence the shitload of marketing attempts. 

I think she is the result of “things not always going as planned” during that time skip without Naruto. 

What fueled Sasuke during the time skip anyway? Who wasn't there?

I noticed something else about Sasuke.

Sarada screams the word “papa” idk how many times, but Sasuke has only referred to her as ‘his child’ once at Orochimaru’s hideout. Any other time he includes Chocho and says “the kids.” 

Same with Sakura. He never refers to Sakura or uses her name, (or show concern when she gets taken away by the enemy for that matter.. although neither does Naruto)- however he calls her his “wife”, right? I dunno about you, but I noticed he did this twice.. and ONLY to Orochimaru and ONLY when necessary. Think about that one, because I’m telling you that’s deliberate. Why wouldn’t he use their names around him specifically and why did Kishimoto choose to let Sakura and Sarada spout “papa” and “husband” over and over again while Sasuke avoids it? Food for thought.   

Sarada questions about the relationship between her parents are never answered despite the “happy ending”. (Not fully anyway.)

The story will do everything in its power to raise suspicion and make you believe that Sarada might be one of those ‘Uchiha Shin’ clone children or perhaps a clone related to Sasuke with his genes made by Orochimaru in a ‘this is WAY too obvious, so of course in the end she wouldn’t be’-manner. Which is interesting, because in that so-called “happy ending” too many details are left unsolved.

Whatever you suspect, in the end it was all a misunderstanding.

So.. case closed. We went full circle, all is good. 

Except, I’m still not convinced completely. 

And Kishimoto is very careful in that regard. For example when Naruto talks to Sarada he makes sure to mention Sarada’s connection to “her mother and her father”, but not mention anything about the connection between Sasuke and Sakura. When he starts to console Sarada he speaks very highly of Sasuke, but he never mentioned Sakura.. at all. (Good qualities.)

Then we have Shizune. 

We know there is nothing about Sarada’s birth documented in the hospitals of Konoha. Which is strange, because even if Sarada was born in Orochimaru’s hideout, you’d think Sakura, our great medic ninja, would’ve made sure she would be AT LEAST properly identified/documented in Konoha as Karin for sure has that.. alongside the umbilical cord for some reason. Even worse.. Shizune has no counterargument and looks distraught. Is “you were born outside of the village” such a secret? Is there literally nothing Shizune could’ve said?

Then we have the big question: “what was Sasuke going to say?”

Sakura arrives during the battle with ‘Uchiha Shin’ and Sasuke’s first reaction to that is: “What are you doing here?” To which she apologizes to Sarada “I meant to tell you properly”. 

I think because leaving the village to find her dad because Sakura refused to tell her anything is dangerous and with that I’m guessing Kishimoto refers to some of the questions Sarada launched at Sasuke when she met him: 

“Why won’t you be with mom?”

“Do you think it’s okay to forget the face of your child?” (Why won’t you be with me?/us?)

“Who is the girl with the glasses?” (Karin) 

+ Mom won’t say anything, I don’t believe your relationship, you’re never around and yes, we have a lot of problems.  

But Sasuke says Sakura doesn’t have to apologize, because no matter what “it’s his fault” as if Sarada was some sort of mistake. Sakura staying silent for so long/lying causing Sarada despair, is her fault since Sasuke… wasn’t around lol. So.. I’m thinking, just the fact that Sarada exists at all he believes “is his fault”. He agreed to something (Sakura ever-too-willing) and looks regretful since “no matter how we look at it”, he abandoned the aftermath of that decision up until that point.

But why? He isn’t connected to Sakura directly, because Sarada is in between, “because we have you.. Sarada.”

Since ‘Boruto’ had to happen anyway, why did Kishimoto choose to go this route for Sasuke’s future in Gaiden? He obviously went back to the War Arc.. so.. I did too. 

So.. let’s take a look a Naruto’s reaction: 

This is a “simple memory” of him thinking about Sasuke explaining his hypothesis about these Uchiha Shin clones and how it could connect to the white Zetsu being a byproduct of Madara using Hashirama’s flesh for that statue (to create that army) if I’m not mistaken. Uchiha Shin daddy ended up being Orochimaru’s old experiment. (Interestingly, Sakura brought him up before he did.. in her mind clone = Orochimaru.. also food for thought, but it could be because of Mitsuki, don’t know.) 

But anyway, look at Naruto’s expression. Here he looks at a crying Sarada after she’s been told “this has nothing to do with you” by Sasuke in response to all the questions she shot at him. Which part of this is making him look so sullen?  

Naruto has shown zero concern for Sakura or the “connection” between Sasuke and Sakura throughout Gaiden even when it was implied that Karin is possibly Sarada’s mom. The concern is seeing Sarada being in pain because of it/being lied to. 

.. and left out. 

Because indeed, the mission has nothing to do with Sarada as it is “top-secret”.

“A bright future is always better..

.. don’t you think?”

Am I the only one who’s not feeling that one from Sasuke?

“You stay in the village and protect it, Hokage..” “You deal with the things you have to do. And I’ll do what I have to do. Isn’t this the ‘cooperation’ that you wanted?"

Is it, Naruto? I highly doubt it. (Indicating that something isn't right here + Sakura's eyes.)

If you’d ask Kishimoto if Sarada truly is 100% a human child his answer would be: “Yea, sure :)” 

You will get a straight up answer, enough to get the shippers gloating on socials with “proof”, but it’s as convincing as Sakura saying “..I’m sure our feelings are mutual…” 

Regardless.. why does Sasuke feel like Sarada’s existence is his “fault”? 

If you go back to the War Arc (as Kishimoto did too) Sasuke observes the conversation between Madara and Hashirama who talk about leaving the future to the next generation and “Madara’s dream coming to an end”. Both Naruto and Sasuke were willing to give up their goals for each other. Goals that ARE NOT JUST THEIR OWN. As Sasuke had said, “it’s especially true when it comes to bigger things.” Also meaning that.. even though Naruto said he was going to be a “Ninja in his own way” instead of just becoming Konoha’s “tool”, whatever future he had planned for Kohona.. if he even had one, he was willing to give that up too. 

Think about it. 

For whatever generations after them, whatever “bright future” they had planned, it was never more important than each other. If Naruto wanted a better life for all the children of Konoha and was determined to make that happen, then not even that was more important than Sasuke.

Naruto’s goal to become ‘Hokage’ and wanting the Shinobi’s to work together theory-wise was kind of vague, but he wanted to do it with Sasuke if they were going to be alive anyway.

And these dumbasses who love each other so much were reduced to these miserable looking fellas and I just think Kishimoto took the opportunity to make use of that as much as possible. Mocking the situation as obvious as he could without straight up saying it like only he can. 

“Sasuke and Sakura have a child? Lol, I’ll make the reader as suspicious as possible without actually truly revealing anything.. as always hihi.” 

Bastard.

“And then in ‘Boruto’ they can try and clean up my mess, but the damage is already kind of done, no?” 

I love him.

In the famous words of Uchiha, Madara: 

“Then it might have been impossible from me from the start. I hated having someone follow me from behind.”

But in the end Naruto and Sasuke are equals. Only Naruto can understand Sasuke on an emotional level and vice versa. Only they can balance each other out, everyone else..

Perhaps.. Sasuke saying

"A bright future is always better...

.. don't you think?"

In that almost sarcastic way.. was about Sarada (being a parent/family with Sakura) which only Naruto and Sakura understood and not so much about the mission, because that pause right there? Is not convincing and if Sasuke was truly speaking to better a future for the Shinobi world he would be much more determined.

But no one looks happy even though Sarada has her happy ending so leaving those questions open I think is just deliberate mockery.

[clairecrive]

"it’s been months since we broke up and i just found one of your old sweatshirts in my wardrobe and it’s making me miss you" nikolai x reader with a happy ending pls?

A/n: I can't help myself but give my best man a happy ending, sorry not sorry. Hope you like it x

Warnings: angst, confrontation, happy ending

Word count: 2K

Tags: @jupiterandbutterflies, @agentsofshield, @for-bebbanburg, @randomoutsiders, @pansysgirlfriend, @hannaxmaria, @vintagebitc, @story-scribbler, @crowssixof, @odetostep, @lizzie-he4rts, @korol-lantsov, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @gallysonegoodlung, @a-c-lee, @mriddlemethis (tag list form)

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

A knock on the door in the middle of the night wasn't something you were expecting to happen. Merely because you were not expecting anyone. Even though, to be fair, it wasn't that late. And considering how everyone's so busy these days, with the Darkling threat looming over your heads, everyone is required to put in some work to plan a strategy that will assure our victory. Or at least, to contain the damage that surely the Shadow Summoner had planned to inflict upon those who had betrayed him.

Sleep was a luxury these days, so really, you shouldn't have been surprised by someone calling for you. Sighing, you walked to the door wrapping your robe around your body.

When your eyes fell onto the person behind the door, you froze. Now this, was a surprise.

You definitely weren't expecting your ex-boyfriend to knock on your door in the middle of the night a month after your break up.

"Nikolai?" the surprise was clear in your voice as well as weariness. If he was here that meant that something terrible must have happened.

"Were you sleeping?" he shuffled on his feet. As if seeing at your door after all this time wasn't baffling enough, his insecurity certainly was.

You shook your head. "Has something happened?"

"Yes," he said rolling his shoulders back. You stood taller as well, bracing for the bad news. "it’s been months since we broke up and I just found one of your old sweatshirts in my wardrobe and it’s making me miss you," he added and pulled something from behind his back.

It was your sweatshirt indeed, one of your favourites, certainly the most comfortable one. One that you usually used to sleep but it was also the one that you had left in his rooms. The break-up had been sudden in the sense that it had been a long time in the making but the bubble had broken abruptly, leaving you no time to retrieve your stuff.

Well, you could have gone to him and ask for your things but you had spent the last month trying to avoid him.

"Nikolai-" now your words were tentative, a slight warning in them. There was a reason why things had ended, after all.

"No, please, just hear me out." There was no insecurity in his voice anymore, nor in his body language. You knew the man in front of him, painfully aware of how stubborn he was. And the truth was that you had missed him too. Being so close to him and yet so far away had been one of the hardest things you had to do.

So you relented. With a nod, you let him in your room.

You closed the door and when you turned around you saw him sitting on your bed. You took a couple of step towards him but decided to stand at a safe distance from him. Nikolai's eyes were on you and you shifted on your feet under his gaze.

"What's there left to say?" You spoke since he didn't. His presence was unnerving enough on its own, embarrassing silence wasn't a surplus you needed.

"I'm aware of why we broke up, what you think. But I need you to know that it was a huge misunderstanding." He said, squaring his shoulders.

You scoffed, crossing your arms on your chest. "Really? And you waited a month to clear the air?"

"It wouldn't have been fair to you for me to have this conversation before." He stated as if he was during one of his diplomatic meetings.

"Because all this time, you've still been flirting with her."

"I wouldn't put it like that..." He slightly grimaced, his eyes leaving yours for the first time to move to his hands.

"Courting, wooing, pursuing, whatever Nikolai. I don't care how you'd put it. I don't care about what you do with her either." Gesturing with your hands, you sneered at his audacity. He wasn't going to get out of this on semantics. Nonetheless, it was over and you didn't want to show just how aggravated seeing him with Alina made you. "It's none of my business." You shook your head and moved towards your window, giving him your back.

"Well, maybe you don't care but I do. Maybe what I have to tell you won't change a thing but I need to at least try." He raised his voice, frustration clear in his words for your attitude. But you couldn't care less, you had just started. "Because this past month without you has been hell and I don't want to spend another day without you." His voice trembled a bit at the end and you knew that it wasn't easy for him to be this vulnerable with you.

"Don't tell Alina that." You teased him in a neutral tone. Back still to him.

"Alina doesn't care, y/n. And neither do I."

"Could have me fooled."

"It would have been a political union." Frustrated, he pointed out. You turned around this time, scoffing at the implicit insult.

"That much I had guessed, Nikolai." You weren't stupid. And you knew Nikolai. As soon as the first wave of pain and betrayal passed, you realized that it must have been a strategic move on his part. Not that it made anything better.

"You...did?" He almost stammered, eyes widening in surprise.

"Of course," you sighed, "but it doesn't make anything better. So if this is all you had to say, I'm afraid it doesn't change anything."

"But- it changes everything. I don't love Alina, I never have." He insisted, standing up from the bed and taking a step in your direction.

"You would have still married her though, wouldn't you?" You pointed out with a rhetorical question that he still felt like answering.

"Well, I-"

"And you didn't tell me anything, did you?" You continued this time without giving him time to speak. "So yes, maybe you didn't love her. Maybe you loved me but would that matter once you were married to her?"

"I'll tell you: no it wouldn't have. Because as much as I loved you, I wouldn't have let you made me your mistress. And you and Alina are good friends, I'm sure you'd grow to love her with time." Your voice has hardened, failing at carelessly exposing an eventual love blooming between them. But Nikolai didn't notice. He was still at the second sentence.

"Loved?"He whispered. Past tense.

"Did you expect me to hold a torch forever?" Your voice softened at his reaction but still- you weren't going to be around forever. He had made his choice, after all.

"Of course not," Nikolai mumbled as he sat down on the bed again and looked down at your sweatshirt still in his hands. You couldn't see his face and you knew that it was a deliberate move. Never had you seen him to defeated and crestfallen. His shoulders slumped, his fingers fisted the material in his hands.

Sighing, you closed the distance between you and sat beside him on the bed. Maybe you had been too harsh but it was an instinct for you to be so defensive. Even though his betrayal had hurt you immensely, hurting him back was never your intention.

"I don't think I could ever stop loving you." You whispered. Eyes latched on your fumbling fingers, you heave a sigh. This felt like the confession it was.

"But you can't expect me to be fine just because you explained Nikolai. It doesn't excuse the lies or the betrayal." You continued, wanting him to understand. Now that everything was out in the open, it was best to speak heart to heart.

"Indeed it doesn't. And I'm sorry I've hurt you, it was never my intention." He agreed and apologised but you shook your head. What good was it an apology now? It wasn't a matter of forgiveness anymore. There was now a lack of trust and you didn't know how to handle it.

"How do you think I would have reacted? What if she said yes, uh? What then, Nikolai? Would an "I love you" fix everything?" Speaking no matter the lump of your throat, you turned to face him. His eyes were already on you. They were glossy and one of his hands reached out to yours to hold it.

"I knew she was going to say no. And I knew that it was a low move on my part considering that you're my whole heart but I couldn't have lived with myself if I didn't at least try," he confessed. You nodded because you knew how much he cared for Ravka's future and having Alina on the throne would no doubt have a positive impact on all fronts.

"Because having her on the throne would have been advantageous for us, for Ravka. It would benefit us in so many ways that I had to try, at least. No matter the sacrifice." The last word came out as a whisper, his eyes flickering between yours and you understood the underlying message. But that was exactly the problem.

"What hurt me the most, Nikolai was that you made the decision for both of us."

"I'm not a strategist but I understand the power Alina holds. It would have still hurt but if you had told me, it would have been different." You explained as his eyes filled with an emotion that you recognized as regret.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I never wanted you to feel like you don't matter to me. Because you do. You have no idea how much you do. And I love you, I really do." His hold on your hands tightened and you were surprised to see how his lower lip trembled a bit.

"I love you too, Kolya." You confessed, unable to pretend the contrary. "But I don't know where to go from here."

"You don't owe me anything, my sweet. I wanted you to know and now you do. That's more than I deserve." One of his hands came up to caress your cheek as he gave you a small smile. You actually leaned to him, missing the touch, the closeness.

You missed him.

And yes, he had made a mistake. Yes, he had hurt you. But was it to the point of no return? To be fair, you knew that nothing had actually happened between him and Alina besides the proposal. And sure, that was certainly enough on its own but in a way that meant that it hadn't actually cheated.

He had surely betrayed your trust and lied to you. But trust could be regained. And work could be done on your relationships so as not to have these communication problems again.

The question is: were you willing to put yourself through that? Because it was not going to be easy. And there was a chance that it wasn't going to work.

His eyes boring on yours, you hoped to convey your insecurity to him. You knew he loved you. And you dearly loved him too. Maybe you could give him a second chance. If love was there maybe it was worth it to put in the effort to make it work.

Scratch that- it definitely was.

"What about what I deserve?" You whispered as your hands wrapped around his on your face.

"Everything and more, my love." His eyes flickered between yours hopefully. Trying to see if he could find the confirmation in them of what your words implied.

"Well, I think that I deserve a prince." You stated with a small smile.

"Even if he's unworthy of you?" He insisted, raising an eyebrow but mirroring your smile.

"I guess I can give him another chance to prove himself."

"He'd be most grateful, my dear. But I'm afraid he'll never deserve you." His face got closer to yours, nose almost touching. He cradled your face in his hands, his thumb stroking your cheeks.

"Enough with the charming, Kolya, I'm already yours. Come and get me." You chuckled with a roll of your eyes before eagerly tugging him closer to you.

"As you wish." He said before he kissed you. Slowly at first, almost as if he couldn't still believe that it was happening. Then with the hold on your face, he pulled you closer angling your face so as to deepen the kiss.

Your old sweatshirt laid discarded on your bedroom floor. Forgotten for the moment as you caught up on your lost time together.

[scintillatingshortgirl19]

Loki’s Line About Betraying Everyone

I need to talk about this line (spoiler: I’m not happy about it). I was going to just include this in the full episode response post I’m working on, but it got long enough that I decided to make it its own.

First of all, here’s the full quote: "I betrayed everyone who ever loved me. I betrayed my father, my brother, my home. I know what I did. And I know why I did it. And that's not who I am anymore."

Y'all, I'm less emotional about it now but this line fucked me up when I first heard it. It hit me like a ton of bricks while watching the episode for the first time because I was actually doing fine and wasn't significantly bothered by anything up until that point, and then came that line and I suddenly almost felt physically ill. I actually wrote up a post about it that night but never posted it because it was essentially just a lot of screaming, so I've now taken pieces of that and formed a hopefully more coherent post (though it still contains a good amount of screaming). So, I get that the idea that Loki’s betrayed Thor over and over is a Commonly Accepted Thing. It's really a lot more complicated than that, and there are a lot of gray areas involved, but fine, I'll give them that one. But - when did Loki betray his father? When did Loki betray his home?? I’m not just mad about it, this is...a legitimate question. I mean with the father thing, I guess the only thing could be the nursing home in Ragnarok/taking the throne from him? Which is irrelevant anyway because this Loki didn’t do that and doesn't even know it happened in the main timeline?? And besides, it PALES, like, hilariously, in comparison to any one of multiple things Odin did to him before that (not counting any fanon here - just the canon things that we know of!) I am just so confused, especially about the betraying Asgard thing. WHEN? LITERALLY WHEN? Guys, there is no film in which that took place.

If I trusted the narrative, I would say the most logical thing to conclude - at least about the betraying Asgard part - is that this is a setup for Loki to later realize he actually saved Asgard by causing Ragnarok (because that's the closest thing I can think of to "betraying his home"), which could even tie into something about, idk, helping him realize he’s capable of being a hero? (or something) and it would be a good follow-up to the moment he found out about Ragnarok in episode 2, but...fuck, the way these lines were framed it really doesn't feel like anything like that is going to happen. I could be wrong, but these just didn't strike me as lines that are at any point going to be contradicted or even revisited.

And moving onto another part of the quote - "I know why I did it." Uh, I guess good for Loki for apparently knowing that...but the audience sure doesn't?? This is something we're just now being told and have not been shown at all?? I have a feeling Loki thinks he knows why but it unfortunately doesn't have anything to do with some of the biggest actual reasons, which are the abuses done to him that helped make him who he is. Even more unfortunately, I also have a feeling the creators are on roughly the same page as Loki here. So yeah, that's a real shame.

The core problem here seems to be where the writers are coming from, and @iamanartichoke worded it really well here, so I’m just going to quote her: “either the writing is being lazy by oversimplifying Loki’s motives, or it’s being deliberately misleading in order to retcon the character, or the writers genuinely believe that’s what happened, which implies a misunderstanding of Loki’s character kinda from the get-go - at least on what drives his villainy and what fuels his anger, which are pretty significant things.” I do think there’s a slight chance they were using Loki as an unreliable narrator here and the audience was supposed to pick up on the subtext (more on that at the end of this post), but I doubt it, and I think it’s very likely one or more of the options listed in the quote. 

Honestly, I can explain Loki's line about betrayal (and his general lack of acknowledgement of his own trauma/legit grievances against his family) pretty easily in-universe. It makes sense that Loki himself would frame things as him betraying everyone who's ever loved him as if they never did anything to wrong him first, or that he would try to ignore what Thanos did to him in favor of putting all the blame on himself (coping with his trauma and loss of control by denying it). Or hell, maybe he would even straight up subconsciously invent a betrayal that never even happened, like the one about his home. I can totally understand Loki seeing the events of his life that way! That all lines up with his complete lack of self-worth, and to have him 1) recognize his mistakes and take responsibility for them (which has happened at this point in the show), but then progress on to 2) realize he isn't solely to blame for literally everything, and 3) recognize the role of his family and others in understanding why he is the way he is - that would be a very satisfying arc and is the natural direction that the story should take in episode 6. The problem is, I don't think the show is going that way. I think we're either supposed to take it at face value that Loki did in fact betray everybody who ever loved him (as if Loki is a reliable narrator when he's most certainly an unreliable one), or the audience is supposed to figure out that Loki's an unreliable narrator here - but the latter won't work, because the creators have to follow through on that subtext at some point and actually do something to indicate that what Loki said wasn't 100% true, and it doesn't feel like they're going to. You can't expect your audience to put any weight on subtext or even pick up on it in the first place if you never actually confirm anything, and your audience won't know your narrator is unreliable unless you tell them. If Loki being an unreliable narrator in that specific moment was their intention, only a small subset of fans are going to pick up on it. So the way they're framing it so far, the audience is simply going to see it the same way Loki does and not realize it's incorrect. 

Unfortunately, as stated earlier, I think the most likely explanation is that the writers either don’t understand Loki, are being lazy, or are deliberately retconning. So while I take a degree of comfort in the in-universe explanation, it’s pretty damn infuriating to consider where the writer’s minds were probably at in reality, and how this set of lines is presenting Loki to the casual audience. 

Tagging @iamanartichoke and @delyth88 if you guys have any thoughts?

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding IX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV  - - - Part V - - - - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII

Content Warning: This chapter contains potentially triggering material, particularly aftermath of attempted suicide as well as discussions of bodily injury.

Cody woke up the morning after the...drunken keldabe still feeling uneasy. He spent half an hour attempting to read over reports in preparation for the Umbaran campaign before giving it up as a lost cause. He distracted himself for a little while by pouring over last night’s cantina surveillance, before giving up on that as well and sending a message to General Skywalker.

‘Any updates on General Kenobi’s status?’

He watched the comms as communications from everyone besides the General trickled in. He answered a few requests for requisitions, forwarded some medical reports, and ignored an irritating handful of overly-personal questions. 

Agonizing over it the whole time, he opened a comm-text link to Obi-Wan. It took nearly an hour, but he managed to send two sentences. ‘Hope you’re recovering well. Look forward to upcoming mission discussion.’

He immediately wanted to retroactively delete the message, mortified by every word and deeply concerned at every second that passed without a reply.

He spent the next 30 minutes hunched over, quickly closing every incoming CT and CC communication, justifying the time to himself as ‘technically on leave.’

He lurched forward when he finally received a General’s comm code, but slumped in disappointment when it was Skywalker, not Kenobi.

‘Not as drunk but still seems a little high. He says he wasn’t drugged. He’s taking the rest of the day off. I’m monitoring.’

Taking the rest of the day off. Did that mean he wasn’t carrying around his comm? Kriff. Should he more or less concerned that the general was actually taking a day off?

He decided to be more concerned.

‘Thank you for the update. Respectfully request information on any changes.’

Hopefully that would encourage Skywalker to keep him informed even if he stopped freaking out over his vod’s behavior.

Stowing the remote comm, he stood up and exited the temporary planet-side office, throwing himself into cleaning up the mess that was nearly 20,000 clone troopers simultaneously attempting to get the most out of a very brief R&R. 

Shortly before mid-day, he received another update from Skywalker.

‘Just managed to get him to medical. Healer cleared him of drug interactions but Obi-Wan’s still acting strange (not crying, but a lot of hugging).’

Cody stared at that for a long while.

‘Any other verbal indications of upcoming danger?’ he finally asked. Skywalker didn’t reply. 

Shortly after nightfall, his incident reports were interrupted by a call from an unknown temple number. He quickly opened it, and a holo of an unfamiliar Mon Calamari female healer appeared in miniature on the desk.

“Commander Cody. Thank you for answering so quickly. Are you somewhere private?” she asked, voice deliberately neutral.

The Commander tensed up. “Yes, sir. I’m in CC office space, alone. The room and the channel are both secure. Is this regarding General Kenobi?”

“Yes.” She replied. “My name is Master Bant Eerin; I’m a temple healer as well as a personal friend of Obi-Wan’s. He’s...he’s in the healing halls right now. We’re still trying to understand exactly what happened- I’ll tell you what I can but first we need to rule out any possible drugs he may have contact with. I need you to describe in detail anything he may have been exposed to that could have possibly had mind-altering effects.”

The Commander was a professional. He swallowed back his fear, his questions, and his demands to know what was going on.

“Of course. Everything on the Negotiator was GAR Standard, and I was with him when we left the ship. We went directly to the lower levels. The first time he was exposed to anyone outside the 212th was when we left our transport on level 3915. I...actually have footage of him the whole time night after that point. I’m sending it over right now, sir.”

“That would be extremely helpful, thank you.” He watched as she pulled it up on a second comm, sound barely audible. 

He continued with his report: “One of the boys took it without permission. He didn’t mean anything by it, he’s just an idiot; I’ve already issued a severe reprimand. In any case, he brought it to me after I issued surveillance on the cantina, it tracks everything the General did- as far as I can tell, he had a glass of house grub wine, two shots of rancor blood, and an unnamed mixed cocktail ‘on the house.’ You can see everything the bartender added- as far as I can tell nothing was slipped in. He just... blacked out suddenly after the fourth drink, and quickly startled awake, confused by his surroundings.”

“I see.” Her tone was still carefully neutral and Cody didn’t know how to read her expression. He waited, wishing he was wearing his bucket so he didn’t have to keep schooling his face into professional patience.

“You brought him back to the temple...correct?” 

“Yes, sir.”

She let out a deep breath, gills fluttering slightly. “We’ll probably have more questions later, but please understand our inquires are entirely based around determining how we can best help Obi-Wan. This call and any future ones are not intended, and should absolutely not be interpreted, as indications of blame. He’s actually spoken to me about you before, I know he has the deepest respect for you, personally and professionally. Someone will likely be assigned to talk to everyone whose spent time with him recently, including myself.”

The sick feeling in his gut from last night returned full force. “I...believe I understand sir. His condition is serious, then?”

Her gills fluttered again.

“Even now, I think we can safely anticipate a full physical recovery. He...there’s no easy way to say this...it appears he attempted to end his own life. Knight Skywalker got to him just in time, and he received bacta within minutes of the initial burn. I...like I said...we’ll began work to figure out why-”

Her voice broke and she stared up, large tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She hastily wiped them away.

“Rest assured commander, he’s getting the best treatment possible. Thank you for your assistance. I’ll do my best to answer any questions you might have right now. This is my personal comm link- please feel free to reach out to me at any point for updates.”

“I-” Cody cleared his throat. “Can I come to the temple? To...” he trailed off, not sure how to finish.

“Not tonight, I’m sorry. The healers need to focus; he’s not allowed any visitors until he’s out of Bacta, I’m afraid.”

“Skywalker must be throwing a fit at that” Cody remarked numbly.

The healer winced. “Knight Skywalker is currently sedated. He was...injured in the struggle to keep Obi-Wan from further harm. Master Windu witnessed part of it, but we’ll have to wait until its safe to wake him to get the full story. I’ll be notifying Captain Rex of the situation after we finish speaking.”

“I’ll do it.” Cody offered immediately. “Tell me what happened.”

Eerin hesitated. 

“Please, Sir. It will be better coming from me and...if he’s the only other trooper who’s being informed at the moment...”

“Of course,” she said quietly. “We don’t know the full circumstances, but at some point in performing emergency care for Master Kenobi, Knight Skywalker was stabbed in the lower abdomen with a vibroblade. It pierced his large intestine. The blade was pulled out shortly before healers arrived, causing some further damage and blood loss. He’s already finished surgery, and should only need a few hours of Bacta at most. Considering his extraordinary past recovery rates, he’ll likely be out of bed tomorrow and fully healed by the end of the week.”

“General Kenobi wouldn’t...” Cody trailed off again. He was having a hard time putting coherent sentences together.

Bant looked at the ceiling for a moment, seeming to collect her thoughts.

“Psychosis can have many manifestations. Even with- with conventional injuries, people can mistake help for harm. There’s just too much we don’t understand, and only so much we can learn before they wake up. Are you certain you wish to be the one to inform Captain Rex?”

“Yes.” That was about the only thing the Commander was certain of right now. “Is there anyone else in the GAR I should inform of...anything?”

“The military aspect of this isn’t my area of expertise. If there’s someone you trust who can be a support for you, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to tell them in confidence. Some form of what happened is going to get out eventually.” she replied. “Please use your discretion, I suppose. It’s...not really my speciality but I imagine you’ll receive further orders on how much to release to the GAR once Obi-Wan’s stable.”

Right. Discretion. Because Obi-Wan wasn’t just Obi-Wan- he was a high general in charge of nearly 1/3 of the republic’s forces. If word of this got out to the wrong ears it would cause mass panic, maybe even an emboldened separatist advance. It was an insane amount of responsibility for one person, no wonder - he deliberately didn’t finish the thought.

“I’ll comm the Captain immediately. Thank you for the information, General.” he said out loud.

“Feel free to contact me for further updates, and tell Captain Rex he’s welcome to do the same. I’ll message you when its clear to visit the halls.”

“Yes, Sir.” Cody responded, saluting automatically. 

“Take care of yourself, Commander Cody”

The hologram blinked out. Cody sat motionless for several long moment before sweeping his desk off, sending the assorted flimsies and redundant comm-units of various designations to the ground.

He stared at the empty desk, then tapped a button on his wrist comm, opening a private audio channel. “CT-7567, please come in” he said calmly.

“Cody?” came the alarmed reply. “I’m here, what’s going on?” Why did he sound so panicked? He had deliberately used his calmest voice. Oh well.

“Please report immediately to CC Office 12 in Guard Headquarters”

“I’ll be there in 10″

Cody hung up. He stared at the blank wall. He knew something was wrong with how the General said goodbye.

He opened the single desk drawer and dumped the odd wires and coins inside to the floor. Eerin had said burn. That could mean a lot of things, but lightsaber was the most likely. 

Cody puked profusely into the empty drawer. He stared at the vomit for a moment before carefully closing the drawer. He still felt a little sick. He hadn’t even said anything back to the General, he just stood there, frozen. 

He stared vaguely at the wall across, wondering if he was going to puke again.

Rex burst into the room. “Cody! What’s going on?! You- kark, what is that smell?”

“I puked in the desk drawer” Cody explained.

Rex shut the door behind him and slowly walked over. He knelt down next to the desk, gently taking Cody’s hands in this own. “Cody. Vod. Talk to to me.” 

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

Rex’s hands tightened over Cody’s compulsively and Cody squeezed back harder. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Rex’s expression.

“Some of ghost company went out for drinks last night. Obi-Wan started acted oddly. We flew towards the temple. He started crying. We got to the temple. He Keldabe kissed me. He told me goodbye. I didn’t say anything back.”

“Oh, vod” Rex whispered. He gently pulled the slack Cody off the chair and onto his lap on the floor. Cody continued mechanically. “I did reports today. Skywalker said he was with him. I left Obi-Wan a message. I don’t think he saw it. He tried to kill himself. Skywalker must have left him alone. He saved him. Obi-Wan stabbed Skywalker.”

Rex froze, still holding on to Cody. 

“The healer called. Asked about drugs. They don’t think its drugs but they had to ask. She said they’re both going to heal completely fine. I have a link if you want to call the healer directly. That’s...it. I have reports to do now.”

Rex held Cody tighter. “Not right now”

“It’s war. People get hurt. People die. I have work to do”

“Not right now,” Rex repeated. “You have the right to be upset. You have the right to grieve. You’re a person, of course you have feelings.”

“Obi-Wan said that.” Cody whispered. Then he started crying. He continued to quietly sob for some time, hurt and bewildered and scared. They sat on the floor together; Rex barely moved, simply held on to his older brother as he fell apart.

Inevitably, Cody’s tears dried up and he pulled away. 

“I don’t know how to clean this,” he said gesturing at that closed drawer. 

“I’ll take care of it. Let’s just get you to bed. There’s CC bunks here, right? 

“Yes but...”

Cody didn’t really like sleeping so isolated, but he also couldn’t imagine facing the 212th right now. 

“I’ll stay here with you. We’ll go to the temple together in the morning.”

Rex shepherded Cody to the fresher. He stared at the mirror with a vague sense of recognition before automatically moving through a standard sanitation routine. By the time he finished, Rex had joined him in his room.

“What did you do with the vomit?” Cody asked, suddenly exhausted. They slipped into bed together.

“Swapped the whole desk with Pond’s. That bastard knows what he did.”

Cody let out a snort. Then, much to his surprise, he sank heavily into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Part X

[calltomuster]

oh my gooshhhh my first ao3 friend is doing prompts and is amazing always ahhhhhhhhhhhhh

“I thought I’d never see you again,” with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan?

I'm so honored to be your first AO3 friend! Thanks so much for the prompt and for your endless patience on this, @the-last-kenobi!

From these caretaker dialogue prompts: 10. "I thought I'd never get to see you again."

"Obi-Wan!"

Anakin's scream was strangely muffled, like Obi-Wan was hearing it from underwater. He felt numb except for the heat spreading in his chest, flooding it with warmth where the rest of his body went cold. When he looked down, he saw the red lightsaber poking through the space just next to where his heart rested.

He blinked, confused, then raised his head to see Anakin running towards him, but now his vision was shifting, lowering, twisting, and Obi-Wan realized his legs had given out from under him and he hit the ground. It did not hurt. Nothing hurt. He just felt that hazy warmth carrying him away, away...

The next moment he was aware, he was in a soft white void. Light and shadows dappled together to form some sort of depth, but beyond that he could not make out any sort of surroundings. What really struck him was the Force in this space. It was stronger here than he had ever felt before. Stronger than sharing a bond with Anakin, stronger than a group meditation with Master Yoda, stronger than being on Mortis. It was like... like it was the Force.

Then it hit him, and he felt dumb for not realizing sooner. The visage that appeared in front of him only confirmed it.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon Jinn said, sounding confused. "This isn't... You're not supposed to be here yet."

"Master," Obi-Wan smiled, a light peace settling inside him. So he was one with the Force now. That was alright, he supposed. It had to happen sooner or later, and if the Force deemed it right that now was his time, who was he to argue?

He told this to Qui-Gon, who continued to look puzzled and slightly off-put.

"No, it wasn't," Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan frowned. "Wasn't what?"

"Wasn't the will of the Force," Qui-Gon replied. "This wasn't the will of the Force."

Now it was Obi-Wan's turn to be confused. "Well, I'm here, aren't I?"

Qui-Gon peered at him, looking down as he always did. Even in death, the Force had not corrected their height difference. "Yes. You are."

"So it must have been the will of the Force."

It was then that Qui-Gon took on a face that was dearly familiar to Obi-Wan. It would appear that they were about to depart down the well-treaded path of arguing differing Force philosophy opinions. "Saying that everything happens because of the will of the Force implies that we have no free will."

Obi-Wan obligingly took up the opposing side of the argument. "Does it matter that the choices are preordained if we choose them freely? That is, that we ourselves still feel that we have that choice, and only the Force knows which one we will inevitably pick?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon pressed, brow furrowing together in the way it only did when he was particularly passionate about something. "Because in the end there really was no choice."

"But we believe we have that choice, and isn't that really all that matters?"

Before Qui-Gon could respond, Obi-Wan shook his head and held up his hand. "No, enough. That's not really the point."

"Of course you leave me without a space for rebuttal," Qui-Gon huffed, but smiled. "Regardless, it's good to see you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan blinked away the tears that had suddenly appeared. "I thought I'd never get to see you again."

"Whyever not?"

"Because this isn't what happens when you die!" Obi-Wan exclaimed. "You become one with the Force, not, not," he gestured at Qui-Gon, "this!"

"We are one with the Force right now, are we not?"

Obi-Wan took a breath, then continued. "Yes, but we shouldn't be ourselves still. We should have returned to the endless pool of energy in the universe."

Qui-Gon shrugged. "The sum of the amount of knowledge in the entire universe of what the Force of capable of could fit inside the palm of my hand."

"So the Force allowed you to retain your consciousness?"

Qui-Gon smiled at him. "I thought you said everything that happened was the will of the Force. Why are you questioning this?"

He had to resist the urge to sputter and say because that's not how the Force works! But of course, Qui-Gon was right. They could never hope to possibly understand the Force, and in the end it was folly to try.

"Alright. So what happens now?"

Qui-Gon looked at him. "I suspect you'll wake up soon."

"...Wake up? Wake up where?"

"Back on... Where was it? Cato Neimoidia?"

Obi-Wan nodded, confused. "But I'm one with the Force."

"For the time being, yes, but as I said, this was not the will of the Force."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said things didn't happen because of the will of the Force, Master."

"Ah, so you are deliberately misunderstanding my argument again. What I said was that not everything happens because of the will of the Force. Someday you will understand, my very young Padawan."

"Not as young as I once was," Obi-Wan smiled softly. He had truly missed this, this banter with Qui-Gon. It took a few years after Naboo for him to stop turning to his side and expecting to give or receive some witty riposte. Anakin eventually learned, and that was greatly enjoyable in its own way, but it was never quite the same as it had been with his Master.

Qui-Gon returned his soft smile. "No, not as young as you once were. You've grown into a fine man, Obi-Wan. I'm very proud of you."

Obi-Wan looked down, away, anything to hide the tears that arose upon hearing those words. Words he had dreamt of hearing, once upon a time. Words he'd hoped to hear at his Knighting ceremony. Words he woke up one day realizing he would never be able to receive. But now he had, and it was the most precious gift he could have asked for. But he knew deep down he did not deserve it.

When he had composed himself, he opened his mouth to speak again, but did not raise his head. He was too much of a coward to say this head on. "I fear I have disappointed your teachings, Master."

"Oh?"

"I have been angry, arrogant, judgmental. I have not been mindful of the Living Force as much as I should have been. I did my best in training Anakin as you asked, but sometimes I think I have only passed my flaws onto him too."

"Look at me, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said gently, and Obi-Wan meekly met his eyes. "You are a sentient being. Yes, you have made mistakes, as everyone has. But you have done your best. And you have done well. You are compassionate, and wise, and brave, and resilient, and you have done your best to spread these qualities to everyone around you. And I am proud of you, Padawan."

Obi-Wan huffed out a laugh, because it was the best of the options in front of him to release the emotion welling up inside. "All thanks to you, Master."

"Oh no," Qui-Gon said. "I gave you tools, but it was up to you to decide what to do with them. In the end, Padawans rise and fall on their own merits." He gave Obi-Wan a strange look at that, but it passed so quickly Obi-Wan half thought he might have imagined it. Qui-Gon finished, "And you have risen."

"Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan said, shaking his head slightly. He didn't quite know what to do with all of this, like he wasn't equipped to carry all these kind words with him.

"I just wanted to tell you that before the Force takes you back," Qui-Gon said, folding his arms in his robes. "It will not be long now."

"Will of the Force," Obi-Wan mumbled as he finished composing himself again.

Qui-Gon laughed. "We'll have another chance to argue this. Perhaps sooner than you'd think."

Obi-Wan looked up at him, alarmed. Would he truly be joining the Force again so soon?

"No, not like that," Qui-Gon said. "You'll see."

He was giving Obi-Wan a very particular smile, one that from experience Obi-Wan knew meant he wouldn't be able to pry any answers out of the man. Best to drop the matter.

All of a sudden, something occurred to him. "Will I remember this when I go back?" Would he remember what Qui-Gon had told him?

"No." Qui-Gon's smile turned sad. "It will be like waking up from a dream that grows further and further away the more you try to hold on to it."

Obi-Wan nodded melancholically. It would have been too much to hope for, perhaps. "Then remind me when we see each other again, alright?"

"Of course, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon replied, getting fainter both in voice and appearance. Or perhaps that was Obi-Wan, and not him. "May the Force be with you."

And with you, Obi-Wan tried to say back, but then his ears were ringing with the chaos of battle and his chest was burning something fierce and his eyes were hazily focusing on Anakin's frantic face, and then he could not remember why he had even been wanting to say the words in the first place.

Thanks for reading! Requests are currently closed!

[flying-guinea-pig]

Not What He Seems (ch.1)

(Prefer to read this on AO3?)

(It’s happening folks. The big reveal, four years in the making.)

NotWhat He Seems: Chapter 1

Thomas' heart always beat a little faster when he summoned something, even after several years in this job. It was the thrill of calling a powerful being into this reality with only your wits and some chalk lines as protection.

Beëlzebob was an intermediate-level demon. He took the appearance of every cliché devil ever - hairy black goat legs, a ridiculously buff and gleaming red upper body, large curled horns. The works.

He was also not cooperating at all.

"You are... di̵s̢tra͢c̢te͜d," the demon whispered, his voice echoing back strangely from the corners of the summoning lab. The shadows seemed to thicken.

Thomas kept his face impassive. These were just some special effects, after all. His binding circle was perfect, he didn't need to worry.

"I have outlined our offer in this document. These are the terms you have previously discussed at length with my colleague," he said, reaching out slightly to hand Beëlzebob the carefully rolled up contract. "All should be in order."

The demon unrolled it and took his sweet time reading it through. He would make a good addition to the safe summons list, despite being a bit higher level than their usual choices. This old-fashioned approach, with the written contract and all - it would teach the students to be patient and give them time to focus on the details before shaking on anything.

"Yes," the demon said, dragging a black claw over the parchment. "These terms are acceptable. However, there is one issue."

"Is there?"

A horrible, fanged grin. "The contract must be written in your o̦̰͚w̮̮n̬͇̹̕ blood, mortal."

Maybe it was his experience with grandstanding demons, or Tyrone had been rubbing off on him, but Thomas was not impressed. "That wasn't in the agreement."

"You will rewrite it. Ḩè̲̙͙̩̤r̦e̹̦ ͏͕̥a̝̱̺͟n̘͔d ̛̦̱̲̖n̩͈̪o̰̻͓͓͢w̺͍͎̦.̪̣͇̩́"

"No, I don't think so," Thomas said, mildly. Seriously? All that work was just wasted? Typical. He was not going to use his own blood to write it, sheesh. With all those clauses and addendums the thing was way too long. Not to mention willingly given human blood had power - power that wasn't a part of this offer.

The shadows twisted - the candles flared. "You will, little mortal, or I will step over this boundary and write it myself, straight from your veins."

"This attitude is not convincing me you're a good fit for our list."

"You have summoned me and I will not leave without my deal!" Red-tinged smoke filled the circle, edging over the chalk lines and spreading into the room. It stank of sulphur and decay.

Thomas coughed. Dramatics aside, maybe it was time to get rid of Beëlzebob. Too bad, Hicks would be disappointed to cross off another name on the safe summons list… It had shrunk a lot in the past years. If this kept up their students would soon only get to summon the Organ Duck. If they couldn’t offer a proper practical education they might eventually run out of interested students as well, which was bad news for the survival of the demonology department.

"Whoa, did someone drop a rotten egg in here?"

Tyrone usually didn't barge in during summonings, especially when they were trying to get more demons for the safe summons list, but this time Thomas didn't mind. The open door let in some fresh air and that was very welcome at the moment.

Tyrone entered the room, waving away some of the smoke. "Hey, Hicks mentioned you wanted to have a talk?"

"What? Oh, yeah," Thomas said, distracted. The smoke was dissipating with record speed and Beëlzebob was visible again, staring at Tyrone in abject terror. "I'm a bit busy right now though."

"Do you need any help?" Tyrone offered. His smile was perfectly friendly.

Thomas glanced at Beëlzebob. "As a matter of fact, he was just leaving."

"Yes! Yes indeed," the demon hurried to say. "Just leaving. Right now. I’m going. Big misunderstanding, you know how it is, have to be somewhere else, goodbye now!"

“Thanks buddy," Tyrone said. "Very accommodating of you, leaving without a deal like that. I will remember this. Here, have a snack."

With a snap of his fingers a familiar deep-fried ball appeared, partly wrapped in a festive paper towel.

Beëlzebob caught it with a flinch and popped away without another sound.

“So, what exactly did you want to talk about?”

“Just a second, let me clean up first.” He frowned at Tyrone. “Speaking of cleaning up, what happened to your shirt?”

“What?” Tyrone glanced down at the brown stains on his usually so crisp white shirt, and made a face. “Aw man, seriously?”

“Do I want to know?”

“I bumped into Banerjee on my way here. He was carrying samples. And he didn’t even apologize, can you believe it?”

Banerjee was the Cryptozoology department’s newest hire, working on his doctorate involving – honestly, Thomas had no idea, he just knew it involved a lot of mud. He wasn’t aware of Tyrone’s true identity. The university staff tried to keep that one under wraps. Parents might object to their children coming to a university where Alcor the Dreambender was frequently hanging around.

“He owes me a new shirt.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “You can literally make it brand new with a thought.”

“He doesn’t know that. It’s about the principle of the thing.”

Shaking his head, Thomas set to work. To his students it often came as a surprise that practical demonology involved a lot of cleaning up. The preparations were extensive, of course, but afterwards someone had to put away the candles and mop up the chalk, blood, and other assorted fluids the demons occasionally left behind. Beëlzebob in particular had left footprints of some kind of sulphurous ooze that he probably shouldn’t handle without gloves…

Safely removing summoning circles was an art, really. It’s not like you could just start scrubbing away with these things – the outer part was usually the binding circle, and you never knew if the demon was still hanging around, invisible, waiting for you to make a mistake. Not that he expected something to happen while Alcor the Dreambender was literally waiting at the door, but proper caution was a good habit to have.

“You know, I could clean this up for you with a snap of my fingers,” Tyrone mused, lounging against the wall while he waited. His shirt held no trace of the brown stains.

“Are you offering?”

“For free?”

Thomas snickered at the almost scandalous look on Tyrone’s face. Put down his cleaning supplies. He had planned to do this differently, but you know what? Now might be as good a time as ever. And it would be fun, wouldn’t it, to put Tyrone off-balance for a moment? “How about a deal then?”

Tyrone perked up.

“You get this room back to its cleaned-up, usable state,” said Thomas, and felt the smile break through on his face. “In return, you get to be my best man.”

To his credit, it didn’t take Tyrone long to realise. “Thomas! You finally popped the question then?”

“Yep. I said I was going to do it soon, this can’t be a surprise –“

“And she said yes?”

“We did talk about it beforehand, you know –“

“Congrats!”

“Thanks,” Thomas grinned. “So, what do you say? Fair warning though, being my best man comes with certain responsibilities. Making sure I’m on time at the wedding and such.”

Organising the stag night as well, technically. Though Thomas suspected Brad already had some thoughts in that direction.

“I’ve been someone’s best man before, I know how it goes,” Tyrone said. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Thomas.”

The room around them shifted, the magical arrays fading away and taking the trailing odour of brimstone with them.

Tyrone’s expression shifted too, as he let go of Thomas’ hand.

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked.

“Nothing.”

“You seem upset?”

“I am happy for you,” Tyrone said. “It’s just… you’re getting old.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“No, I mean – look at you! Getting married. Maybe kids and a house, soon.”

“I’m not buying a house on a teacher’s salary,” Thomas said. “The rest… who knows? We’ll see how it goes. Is that what’s upsetting you? That I’m growing up?”

Tyrone shrugged awkwardly. He seemed smaller somehow. “You’re going to be very busy with all that – that life stuff. It’s happening already. Everyone is so busy. Your dates with Elisha, Eddy’s got his new job, Brad’s mucking around in his dad’s company - when was the last time we all hung out, just for fun? Not because it was someone’s birthday or anything? It’s been ages since we had a game night.”

That… had been a while, true. “I guess that’s what happens when you get older. There are more demands on your time, you get to juggle more responsibilities.”

“I’m not getting older.”

“Right.” Thomas took a deep breath.  “Listen, so… we’re busy more often. And it’s not like in college, where we all could just hang out all the time. But you’re basically part of the family, Tyrone. Alcor. You’ll always have a place here. And I’m sure the rest of the gang would say the same.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Thomas said. And smiled, to lighten the mood. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“You’d just miss all the amazing deals I make with you.”

“Of course” Thomas said, glad Tyrone was now teasing instead of moping. “I’m clearly only using you for your clout as Alcor. You’ve made my life so much easier.”

Tyrone mimed a gasp. “Sarcasm, Thomas? Ouch.”

“Not entirely sarcasm,” Thomas admitted. “You do make my life easier, sometimes. When you feel like it. For instance, vanishing that sulphurous stuff Beëlzebob left behind, I was not looking forward to handling that. The smell lingered.”

Tyrone suddenly looked way too innocent. “Oh, I didn’t exactly vanish it.”

Oh Stars. “What did you do?”

“Might have put it somewhere. Like, oh, I dunno… Banerjee’s car.”

Thomas facepalmed. Serves him right for making a vague deal like that. “Is it at least safe?”

“Define ‘safe’.”

“Tyrone!”

“Don’t worry, Thomas, I promised not to deliberately harm the university’s students and faculty, remember? He’ll be fine.”

“All this for an accidental stain on your shirt, really?”

Tyrone folded his arms in front of him. “He didn’t apologize.”

Thomas shook his head, exasperated.

Demons. They really knew how to hold grudges.

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

The Mindscape was a vast, endless realm where the strong hunted the weak and territories were defined, invaded, and redefined. This was the place where demons lived, and they didn’t like each other any better than they liked humans. The collective noun for a group of demons, as they say, is ‘a carnage’. Teaming up was rare, and more often than not ended in the stronger one destroying the other as soon as their goal was met. That was just the natural order of things.

Even so, sometimes even they needed a neutral place to go. Somewhere deals could be made without worrying about being devoured. This place was the Midway Bar, run by a demon known only as the Bartender, and for the past six years it had attracted a group of regulars.

They took over the table in the corner. Sometimes the group lost a member, occasionally it gained one. They weren’t here to make deals. They were here to drown their misery and sneak away before a stronger demon took advantage of their intoxication to ambush them outside these walls.

Beëlzebob entered the Midway Bar. He went straight to the Bartender, who after a short conversation pointed in the direction of the gloomy table in the corner.

“Get lost,” Flaga the Eagle-winged said, at his approach.

The demon next to her, who mostly looked like a giant fungus with teeth, curled a green tendril around their glass. “Yeah. This is a private party.”

Beëlzebob paused. He was stronger than each of them, he knew. But this was no place for threats. “Apologies for the interruption. May I sit?”

That wasn’t how demons talked to each other, especially not to a bunch of low-levels like them. They shared a suspicious glance. The one across from Flaga, some kind of feathered crocodile hybrid, raised his empty glass meaningfully.

Of course. “Listening can parch the throat so,” Beëlzebob said. “Let me get those refilled for you, and then we̙̮'̥͉̘ll̟̮ ț̳̮a̪̩̗̥l̯̹̹k̰.”

[dreamingsnowflake2013]

Chapter 47 is extremely important since it lays ground for major developments&storylines in Season 2, therefore I've decided to write a very detailed analysis, dissecting every gesture, every look and every hidden meaning. 

Painter of the Night is a work of visual art which tells a story via imagery, thus the visual component constitues the most important part of it. It stems from the fact that there is limited space for dialogues. Not only does it allow Byeonduck to make most of it with her extraordinary artistic talent, it also makes each sentence that much more poignant and important. Nothing is redudant, every word counts and is loaded with ambiguity, every sigh and pause hold a meaning, and even the silence resonates and speaks volumes. All this is even more crucial when the story takes place in an era where each piece of clothing, a person’s hairstyle or the place where they stood or sat in a room also revealed their place in society; and even more so, when both its protagonists are people who have difficulties expressing their true feelings and intention by words. The time Seungho and Nakyum spend in the master’s chamber in the morning almost seems mundane, but as always, first impressions are deceiving. They don’t talk much, yet their whole communication is loaded with meaning. And remember, communication is much more than mere words or their literal meaning. It doesn’t lead to anything sexual, still the air trembles with the attraction between them.

The crux of the issue is the social divide which separates Seungho and Nakyum I mentioned previously. During the whole scene the dynamic between the two men keeps constantly changing together with their literal positions in the room which symbolize their actual positions in the Joseon society and how those positions start to shift due to the feelings they have for each other. Seungho is almost unconsciously trying to bridge that divide by treating Nakyum more and more as his equal. It isn’t a deliberate behaviour on his part but instinctive. He sees the painter as his lover, therefore he treats him as his lover because, gradually, Nakyum’s social standing has ceased to matter to him. In the beginning, he had called him a lowborn very often, demeaning him, but he used it less and less until he almost stopped completely. The last time being when he got frustrated after Nakyum basically asked him to have rebound sex with him because Inhun had called him a prostitute. Thus, the ever-changing dynamic in this scene is the result of the nobleman trying to overcome the chasm which separates them and keeps him from being close to his young lover.

To start with, there is the mere fact that Nakyum is present during Seungho’s daily dressing ritual which is a deeply private and intimate affair usually only wives had the privilege and right to attend. However, a wife would never kneel in a position of subjugation on the hard floor at the far side of the room with her eyes lowered to the ground. And Seungho won’t have it because he is always observing Nakyum and never takes his eyes off him, noticing everything about him, including the painter’s blushing cheeks and the quiver of his lashes. So he starts to woo Nakyum even though it’s still only morning. 

First, he lowkey informs him that he doesn’t fuck anyone else, basically telling him “I have only you. You are the only one for me.” in his own way, and then he proceeds to actually ADMIT that HE LOVES NAKYUM’S BLUSHES, he loves when Nakyum blushes because of him. He genuinely tries to put into words his appreciation and affection and show them to Nakyum, albeit clumsily. At first glance, it might seem as his typical, teasing remark but it’s not. In fact, it sounds like a shy but intimate and sincere confession. 

We don’t see Seungho’s face when he admits he likes seeing Nakyum blush, only his robe, and together with the split second when he ponders Nakyum’s question about his kindness, IT IS THE ONLY TIME SEUNGHO LOOKS AWAY FROM NAKYUM, other than that Seungho never takes his eyes off him. During these two fleeting moments he reveals his vulnerablity while, at the same time, trying to hide it by turning his back to Nakyum so the painter wouldn’t notice it. I love how Byeonduck doesn’t show his expressions to the readers during these moments, but still gives them visual clues to uncover the truth if they read between the lines and notice Seungho’s body language. It’s not about discovering the visible but about seeing the invisible, what is hidden in plain sight. The same narrative means is used to show Nakyum’s reaction to Seungho’s explanation why he’s been so kind to him: we only see his chin, never his eyes or facial expression in that moment.

Of course Seungho immediately guesses that Nakyum hasn’t eaten yet, because at this point he knows him that much, and moves fast to remedy the mistake, because he already cares about him that much.

Talking about bridging the divide, when Seungho orders Nakyum’s meal to be brought along with his, he’s doing exactly that. Commoners don’t eat while sitting next to noblemen. It’s simply not done but that’s exactly what’s Nakyum doing now. At Seungho’s bidding, he moves from his kneeling position on the other side of the room to the nobleman’s side, making the distance between them smaller both literally and figeratively. He is sitting next to Seungho as his equal on a place which is reserved for honored guests, wives or family members.

What follows might be one of the most interesting pieces of dialogue in the entire chapter 47. Once again, we don’t see Seungho’s face, only the table with food which makes it appear as a mere small talk or an off-handed comment, but it isn’t. Being a manhwa, Painter of the Night lacks the acoustic mode therefore the reader has no way of finding out the tone, intonation or timbre of the character’s voice unless they see his facial expression. However, Byeonduck deliberately doesn’t show it to us at very particular moments. Those moments are rare but by hiding the facial expression, she paradoxically brings readers closer to the characters because suddenly, for a brief moment, they feel exactly like her characters: in those moments, the readers have no idea  what is going thorough Seungho’s mind and what he really feels, in those moments they are at a loss, or misunderstanding or left guessing just like Nakyum is during the whole scene. In those moments, the readers are not all-knowing and can relate to Nakyum because they feel the same.

So when Seungho mentions the erotic painting, and you don’t take the red herring and dismiss it as his usual teasing, you suddenly realize there is a double meaning to his sentence. First, the noble never really ordered Nakyum to come to him with his paintings in the morning. Is it possible that the blushing Nakyum actually used that painting as an excuse to see Seungho? Especially after being so needy the previous night? He himself admits that he can’t go anywhere without him and it’s not like he has any friends in the Yoon household he could talk to. His answer clearly pleases the noble, thus his satisfied smirk. However, more imporantly, it shows that SEUNGHO WANTS FROM NAKYUM MORE THAN HIS BODY and is making a genuine, if inept effort, to tell him. He is basically saying:”I know you think of me as some sex-crazed maniac/deviant and I don’t deny I’m horny and crazy about your ass, but I am not a beast who wants to fuck you all the time. Even I crave closeness and affection and I want more from you than your painting and your body. So much more.”

When his food turns inedible and Nakyum turns to leave to take his meal in the kitchen, he isn’t trying to use it as an excuse to leave but does it out of consideration so he wouldn’t disturb the nobleman farther during his breakfast. However, judging from his slightly pained expression and instant reaction, it seems Seungho misunderstands Nakyum’s consideration for an unwillingness to spend time with him. The person he considers his lover is trying to leave him and it seems he would rather share his meal with servants in a dirty kitchen than spend time with him. That’s how he probably perceives it. There is also Nakyum’s reaction which is really telling. Previously, he would be scared and skittish if Seungho asked him a question like that, plus, he used to be noticebly uncomfortable in his presence. However, now, he is blushing and bashful but he doesn’t look frightened or uncomfortable. If anything, it’s as if he’s gained a shy confidence and learned to speak his mind with Seungho.

And then comes another shift as Seungho takes more steps to bridge the divide between him and Nakyum. Not only does he openly agree with Nakyum that he has never been a servant, he even admits that he himself DOES NOT CONSIDER HIM A SERVANT = “You’re not a servant. The servants are unworthy of you. You don’t belong in my kitchen. Your place is by my side.”

Following this interaction, Seungho suddenly says:”...come HERE.” What does the word “here” mean here?  – “Come CLOSER. Come TO ME.” So once again, the distance that sepates them grows smaller, or rather, Seungho makes it smaller, reduces it until he can touch Nakyum and there is finallly no distance between them at all.

Some pictures are worth more than a thousand words. Seungho has used to claim that all he wanted from Nakyum were his paintings and sex, but now the gorgeous explicit painting of them copulating is left forgotten on the floor. Seungho doesn’t even spare it a glance, all his attention and thoughts belong to the real man in front of him. There is no ulterior sexual motive in the way he touches him or worries about his well-being. Thus, Seungho’s explanation that he keeps Nakyum to have sex with him and then portray it on canvas is the lamest excuse ever. And these open exhibits of physical affection and closeness that doesn’t lead to anything sexual have been appearing more and more.

This one image both showing them making love and their real selves completely lost in a world of their own perfectly illustrates all the dichotomy, nuance, emotions and complex issues that lie just below the surface. If the audience read Painter of the Night superficially, they will only see the “filthy” erotic painting, that is, only one dimension of the story and then they will disregard it as a whole, just like the servant who only sees the surface of the painting but not its beauty and feelings behind it, much less the growing love between its author and his master.

I already wrote I long piece about the way Seungho pampers Nakyum and goes out of his way to make sure that he isn’t injured, so I’m skipping this part. However, what no one talked about is how Seungho gives his place at the table to Nakyum because the significance of the gesture is huge, even more so in Joseon society where every piece of furniture and clothing denoted a person’s status and worth. That seat was reserved only for the master of the house and not even wives got to sit there. So once again Seungho makes the distance between him and Nakyum smaller as he gives Nakyum a privileged position, literally making him his equal by seating him on his place.

And it really is the sight of Nakyum being treated as Seungho’s equal rather than the erotic painting itself which causes the servant to dislike Nakyum so much. The painting is only a trigger. Because in the servant’s POV, here is a lowborn boy who is considered by the society even more lowly than himself but is treated better than noble wives. Nakyum has been elevated to a high position but he is left kneeling by his feet, collecting trash from the floor.

When Seungho tells Nakyum to leave it to the servant and eat, he basically publicly claims Nakyum as his equal and makes a distinction between him and the servant. It almost feels as if he were doing it on purpose, to show the servants what Nakyum’s position is, the same way he did when he ordered the kitchen maid that Nakyum was not to eat in the kitchen.

People often describe the servant as homophobic but that’s 99,9% of Joseon society. What is much more imporant here is that he is envious and bigoted. Because the main issue isn’t so much about the fact that Nakyum has been having gay sex with Seungho, but that he is a lowborn AND he actually does have any sex with SH since in that era having extramarrital sex was considered amoral. The truth is that had NK been a woman, the servant would have reacted the same. Also, if NK were a nobleman, the servant would never dare to even look him in the eyes, much less insult him in such a manner. So this really shows that one of the main obstacles which separates Seungho and Nakyum is the social divide between them. 

And from them two, it’s Seungho who has the necessary means and power to bridge that gap and offer his hand to Nakyum, whereas Nakyum needs to have the courage and confidence to take that hand, hold it tight and never let go.

[missfangirll]

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

Fandom: The Untamed Rating: General Relationship: Song Lan / Xiao Xingchen Tags: Canonical Character Death, Fix-it, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a happy ending, Pining          Chapters: 3 Summary: Song Lan has lost Xingchen twice. How will he endure after losing him a third time?

Read on AO3

This has lived in my head for a while and finally demanded attention. I am still not over Yi City and this is my attempt at a fix-it.

My eternal gratitute for @stormy-seasons who is a fantastic beta reader, and has helped and encouraged me immensely. Any remaining mistakes are mine. :)

- - - - -

Chapter 1: A road too wide

The road goes ever on and on Out from the door where it began. Now far ahead the road has gone, Let others follow it who can! Let them a journey new begin, But I at last with weary feet Will turn towards the lighted inn, My evening-rest and sleep to meet.

- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

When Wei Wuxian had asked him, all that time ago, what he wanted to do now that he had gained his life back, he didn't have to think much to answer.

“Roam the world with Shuanghua, fight evil alongside Xingchen.”

It was what he had always done, a comfortable routine, not that different from before. No use in dwelling on the past, he had thought then. He was used to wandering the world alone, had done so for years and years in search of Xingchen, for a chance to apologize, to make things right again. Even if the road had felt too wide at times when he walked it alone, he had been content to do what once had been their shared goal: eliminate the evil that lingered in the world. In doing that he had felt close to Xingchen, and it had given him a focus other than his grief, his guilt.

He had never been one for expressing his feelings verbally, his words at the temple a festering proof of that, but he had still clung to that fraying hope of if only: if only he found Xingchen, if only he would listen, if only he could find the words, if only.

But it was idle foolishness to ponder on things lost and words unsaid.

He had lost everything that fateful day in Yi City, had lost his life, had lost Xingchen, had watched Xue Yang succeed. Even if it had been Xingchen’s hand and blade in the end, Song Lan refused to place any blame on him. It had been Xue Yang’s devious tongue that had poisoned Xingchen’s heart, Xue Yang’s twisted mind that had driven him to such hopeless despair that he had seen no other way out than the sword that had failed him.

When the Yiling Patriarch and Hanguang-Jun had severed Xue Yang‘s hold on him, he had been grateful, of course he had, but not particularly for the existence he had been granted. It had felt daunting, to face the world again, after years of living-not-living as a puppet. But he had accepted the spirit-trapping pouch Wei Wuxian had given him with shaking hands and a quivering heart. There was no one else left to care for Xingchen, and even when Wei Wuxian had told him that the soul inside the bag was shattered, broken, he had never once wavered in his decision. Xingchen and him, they belonged to each other, no matter the form, and so, caring for him was his responsibility. He wouldn't leave him, no matter how much it hurt.

For a short while he really had thought, had hoped, that with Shuanghua and Xingchen’s soul as his companions, the world would feel less empty, less silent, but ever since he had left Yi City behind, he had felt wrong, uneasy, in the way perception shifted when thunderstorms shadowed everything in an amber hue. He felt hollowed, a part of himself left behind in a black coffin adorned with talismans.

The road seemed wider than ever before, the silence even more unbearable now. Each room was too large, each bed too empty, each meal bland. Colours lost their vibrancy, any music was reduced to dull rhythms. He felt as if the veil of Xue Yang‘s influence hadn‘t fully lifted, but since Wei Wuxian had assured him he was free, he blamed being a living corpse for his dimmed senses.

Only in a fight did he feel almost as balanced as before, Fuxue still a trusted companion. He moved with the same deadly precision he always had, his senses sharpened by adrenaline and his energy flow. (It had been a surprise that his golden core seemed almost unaffected by the whole living-dead business, but for everything else he had lost, it was a relief that this at least seemed largely intact.)

Sometimes, very rarely, he even used Shuanghua on a night hunt. Not so much for his own sake, because the image of that blade at Xingchen's throat haunted him still, but for the sword's, which seemed restless without its master. After those hunts he would tell Xingchen about it in his mind, how his sword missed him, how the world missed him. (He felt he had not earned the right to miss Xingchen, and so said nothing of himself.)

When he talked to Xingchen, wordlessly, soundlessly, every time, every conversation began the same.

I am sorry.

-☾-•-❅-

The inn wasn't that different from any other he had taken shelter in, the wooden floors dark with age, but it was clean and inexpensive. He didn't really have to sleep as much as he’d had to when he had been human, but old habits were hard to break. Food wasn't a necessity anymore either, and most days it was a strenuous task, given the state of his tongue, but he still could enjoy the texture, the smell and temperature of meals. Losing his tongue had been as horrifying as losing his eyes so long ago, but he found that, with time, he had started to adapt. Communication was difficult at times, especially when the other party couldn’t read, but he had found most people understood his combination of facial expressions and humming sounds. It wasn't perfect and sometimes led to misunderstandings, but all in all it wasn't as arduous as he had thought.

After he had secured a room for the night – with a glance at the inn-keeper, followed by a nod towards the stairs, which she understood immediately – he sat in a corner of the small dining room, staring at the bowl of rice and steamed vegetables in front of him. The air smelled heavy, of food and unwashed people, and it made his skin prickle. He stirred halfheartedly in his rice, wishing it gone so he could escape to the temporary safety of his room.

When Song Lan finds him again, Xingchen is perched atop a wobbly wooden fence, one arm looped around the post next to him. In one hand he holds a few small peaches, the other, dripping with fruit juice, he holds out to Song Lan, offering him a piece. His smile is blinding, and Song Lan feels an urge to kiss away the sticky remnants of peach juice on his lips. He mock-frowns at the offered peach, then at Xingchen. Xingchen’s smile widens and he shakes his hand a little for emphasis. “You don't even need to touch it, Zichen,” he offers, playful and lighthearted, “just try it. It’s really good!” Song Lan has to hide his smile, glaring at the other for good measure, then carefully leans down, taking the offered piece between his lips. It is really good.

The sound of a cup being slammed on a table startled Song Lan out of his reverie. The mood of the company at the next table had grown noticeably more inebriated and, with a disappointed look at his bowl, Song Lan got up to retreat to his own room. He hated to waste food, but the thought of eating in company – in this company – made his stomach turn.

Alone in his room, the door closed firmly behind him, he finally felt able to breathe again. Setting Shuanghua and Fuxue on the table, he began his evening rituals. Eventually, with his hair down and only in a thin under robe, he sat on the bed, Xingchen's spirit pouch in front of him. It was not that the pouch ever left his side during the day, but these moments, alone, vulnerable, were special to Song Lan in a way he couldn‘t describe.

Softly caressing the silky cloth, he calmed his breathing, trying to convey his thoughts to Xingchen‘s soul.

I am sorry.

That was what he had wanted to say, when he had first lost him, but by now that wasn't the only important thing anymore.

I love you.

Come back.

He wasn't sure if he wanted Xingchen to come back, like Xue Yang had intended, as a fierce corpse like Song Lan was. Xingchen was warmth, life, sunlight – Song Lan had never understood why anyone would compare him to the moon, he had never met anyone as bright and warm – and being trapped in this lifeless existence wasn't something Song Lan wished for him.

And yet.

Even if Xingchen wouldn't return to him, he could mend his soul and enter the cycle of reincarnation, could eventually be born again. (Song Lan very deliberately didn't think about what that meant for him, since he wouldn't die of old age in the foreseeable future.)

Sighing, he laid down next to the pouch, cradling it to his chest, extinguishing the candle with a flick of his wrist. He couldn‘t speak, but had made a habit of pressing the pouch softly to his throat or chest and humming softly, hoping that the vibrations would travel and that Xingchen would somehow sense them. Sometimes, he hummed a childrens‘ song or a lullaby, a faint echo from another life, other times it was just a tuneless melody, anything to make Xingchen feel less alone. Closing his eyes, he let himself drift off.

It is deep in the night when Song Lan wakes with a start. Immediately he knows what startled him: Xingchen isn't by his side anymore, but before Song Lan can begin to worry, he sees him, standing by the open window. The moonlight cascades around him in silver waves, making him look ethereal, like a spirit from another world. He is, in a way, Song Lan muses as he watches him. Xingchen has his eyes raised to the moon, the light caressing his elegant cheekbones, his fine nose, the graceful bow of his lips. With a slight movement, a stray strand of hair falls over his face and he pushes it behind his ear with an almost impatient gesture. Then, seeing Song Lan from the corner of his eye, he turns, his lips turning upwards into a soft smile. Wordlessly, he abandons his place at the windowsill and returns to the bed, lying down next to Song Lan, facing him. Still smiling, he closes his eyes, and Song Lan breathes him in.

Song Lan didn't dream. He stopped dreaming the day Shuanghua had ended his life, his nights filled with something akin to deep meditation, but not real sleep. Thus, he woke deeply disoriented, instantly missing Xingchen‘s sleepy warmth at his side, blindly reaching for him under the covers. Reality slowly dripped into his consciousness, the realisation that Xingchen wouldn't be there striking him so forcefully he gasped for air.

The pain of missing Xingchen never went away, always lingered in the back of his mind, but this was immeasurably worse: The memory had been so real, he still could smell Xingchen‘s hair oil, feel his warm touch, hear his soft sleepy breaths. Closing his eyes with a groan, Song Lan forced himself up and out of bed. He wouldn't find any more rest anyway and the only thing that could soothe his aching heart, he knew that from experience, was distraction, movement, so he went on to begin his day.

After donning his robes and putting his few belongings back into his qiankun pouch, he silently slipped down the stairs and out of the house, both swords strapped to his back. Only a pale grey shimmer at the horizon promised the coming sunrise, but the small village still lay in deep silence. Song Lan followed the unpaved road out of town.

“Maybe I should hold onto you, so you don't get lost,” Xingchen grins at him, full of mirth, and swiftly, gracefully, takes Song Lan‘s hand in his. Song Lan almost trips over his own feet, but Xingchen’s smile is so radiant, his eyes sparkling with so much joy, that every excuse why they shouldn’t be holding hands in broad daylight on a road dies on his tongue. Wordlessly, he can only stare at the man beside him and hold on.

Song Lan‘s hand clenched around the spirit bag on his belt. Squinting at the sun above him, he took a moment to orient himself. The next village was his intended destination, the rumors of the vile energy and vengeful spirits troubling it had accompanied him for days. Not much time left before sundown, he realised, and quickened his pace.

-☾-•-❅-

The village was as unassuming as he had expected: a single road, no vendors, not even an inn. When he spotted an elderly woman in a doorway, he hastened to greet her with a polite bow, tapping three fingers to his mouth to indicate he couldn’t speak. Curious, she eyed the two swords on his back.

“Are you a cultivator, Daozhang? Did you come for the ghost?“

Song Lan nodded and raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

The woman gestured to the setting sun. “It is good that you arrived in time, Daozhang.” She sighed. “We have been plagued by that one for a while, and are afraid she will find another victim tonight.“

Song Lan gestured for her to continue.

“Well, you see, on a clear night like this, her lover left her,“ the woman said bluntly, and Song Lan began to understand. It always went like this: lovers lost, friends betrayed, brothers deceived. Greed, anger, hatred, but most of all, love - turned and twisted. He sighed inwardly: those were not easily put to rest. The woman went on.

“It… She was a girl from the village. Her name was Xiao An, they were betrothed. But then he… Well, after she hanged herself in his bedroom, he left the village, but she remained in that house. We hear her crying, every night.“ She shuddered. 

“Then, last week, a young man didn't return home to his family one night. We found him the next morning, he was…“ She trailed off, a haunted expression in her eyes. Shaking her head, she said, “Forgive me, Daozhang, I cannot tell you. He was my granddaughter's beloved, and what she did to him…“ 

She turned towards Song Lan, pleading. “We beg you, Daozhang, release her spirit. We cannot give you much, but-“ 

Song Lan interrupted her with a grunt and a headshake. Then, with another raised eyebrow, he half-turned into the direction the woman had pointed to earlier, silently asking the way. 

She nodded. “It is the last house on the left side, you cannot miss it. It has been unoccupied since… Well, since then.“ With a deep inhale, she bowed to Song Lan. “Thank you, Daozhang. Your help is much appreciated.“ With a nod, the cultivator left into the direction she had indicated.

Since it had already been almost sunset when he arrived in the village, he wasted no time. As he walked towards the abandoned house, he prepared some talismans for the fight ahead.

He notices the fierce corpse behind him a heartbeat too late, too late to turn around and block its fury with Fuxue, too late to dodge the attack. Half-turned, he watches a hand descend towards his neck, unnaturally slow, as if through mud, before silver lightning strikes, cutting the offending arm off. Stunned, he watches as the white-clad figure gracefully follows the motion of the blade, using the momentum to behead the remaining corpse behind Song Lan.

“My thanks,” he pants, only to be grabbed by his sleeve and turned around with more force than strictly necessary. “Did it get you?”, Xingchen demands. “Are you hurt?” Song Lan shakes his head and Xingchen’s shoulders slump a little. Silently he steps closer and embraces Song Lan in a one-armed hug, hiding his face in the crook of the other’s neck.

Song Lan shook himself out of his thoughts. It wouldn't do to get distracted on a night hunt, he scolded himself. Shaking his head to clear it a bit, he mustered the talismans he had prepared, meticulously adjusting a few strokes. Perhaps because he was so focused on that, he realised too late that the trees around him had grown eerily quiet: no wind moved the branches, no bird sang to its mate, no insect buzzed evening songs. Instead, he heard a ghostly whisper that seemed to come from all around him. Unsheathing Fuxue, Song Lan carefully approached the deserted hut, only to stop abruptly when he heard his name.

Song Daozhang.

He couldn‘t answer, even if he had wanted to, so he cautiously stepped closer, eyes darting around to find the spirit that undoubtedly was responsible for this. His steps faltered and he stumbled, as the spirit's next words rustled in his ears.

You left him too, didn't you?

He fought to focus past the heartache and tear-blurred vision.

I didn't want to. I didn't want to. I didn't…

You left him. You left him. You left him and he died. He died, Daozhang.

He had to close his eyes for a moment. He knew this was a vengeful spirit, using his own thoughts against him, and still he was helpless against the guilt that threatened to weigh him down. Determined not to be bested, he turned around in search for the ghost, but all he could make out was that eerie whisper.

He died. He died. He died. HE DIED!

Suddenly, with a gust of energy that even smelled evil, foul and nauseating, the spirit materialised directly behind him, so close he could feel Shuanghua vibrate in warning. He whirled around and struck, only for the spirit to duck away and claw at him. He grunted with shock at a searing pain in his chest, then hurled Fuxue at the ghost‘s neck. The blade connected, and with a loud screech the figure dissolved, leaving only a cloud of dark, coiling energy behind.

Panting heavily, Song Lan dropped Fuxue – with a silent apology to the blade for such undignified treatment – and fumbled for a talisman. In its light, the black mist cleared and left only some sticky black residue in the tall grass.

With a groan, Song Lan dropped unceremoniously down into the grass next to his blade. His breathing slowly calming, he carefully took stock of himself. His robes were torn open, his chest drenched in blood from three large, ragged cuts, leading from his left shoulder down to the opposite hip. He winced and reached for the qiankun bag at his belt to find something to staunch the bleeding, and froze.    

The spirit pouch was gone.

Frantically, he scrambled to his knees, all pain forgotten in his rising panic. Sifting through the tall grass where he had stood mere minutes before, he paid no mind to the sharp blades of grass against his hands, his only focus to find it again.

There. With a wave of unmeasurable relief, he spotted the well-worn fabric and came closer to retrieve it, already silently apologising to Xingchen that he had let them be parted so easily.

But all words died when he saw the state of the pouch.

The silk was torn, gashed open like his chest, black and gaping where embroidered flowers should have been.

No. Please, no.

When Xingchen had died, Song Lan had been under the puppet master’s control, but seen all of it unfold, the heartbreak, Xue Yang‘s gleeful explanations, the agony in Xingchen‘s face when he finally put Shuanghua to his own throat. It had etched itself in his memory, and when he finally was free of the needles, he had relived this moment over and over, every time a helpless spectator. The heartbreak he had felt then, the horror, the helplessness, had almost swallowed him, and only Xingchen‘s presence in the spirit pouch had been a thin ray of hope in the darkness. 

But nothing, nothing he had felt then could be compared to the terror that now squeezed his heart with an iron fist.

The pouch was empty.

[posthumus]

hullo boys, today i’m writing about my thoughts on the Dickie incident in Maurice. (potential content warning for sexual assault and pedophilia — if you’ve read the book, though, it won’t get more graphic than that)

i’ve actually always appreciated the Dickie scene, controversial though it is. i first read the book when i was fifteen — the same age as Dickie himself, iirc (EDIT: I did not, in fact, recall correctly; see here) — and i feel like i got it instantly: to me, it serves to highlight the extremely fucked-up attitudes towards sex society helps to internalize. that said, your mileage may vary on how much discomfort you’re able to withstand, and i think it’s completely fair to feel that the incident makes Maurice — the character and/or the book — irredeemable. i’m able to forgive a lot of the more problematic elements of Maurice because i think they’re adequately criticized in the text (at one point Forster literally calls Clive and Maurice misogynists). however, i don’t blame anyone for feeling uncomfortable with them. mostly, i’m trying to explain why i personally like the function of Dickie within the story, and why i think the whole episode requires a nuanced approach. 

first up: i’ve seen the whole Dickie thing’s presentation interpreted as completely uncritical, which i think is pretty misinformed. i’ll certainly admit that at the start of the chapter, it’s quite ambiguous as to which way the novel will frame Maurice’s feelings. it’s extremely uncomfortable to read, especially in a modern context: there’s an element of suspense as you try to guess whether or not an author of this time period would have endorsed sexual assault. but the catharsis comes at the end of the next chapter, when the horror of the whole situation snaps into sharp focus: “was it conceivable that on sunday last he had nearly assaulted a boy?” for the previous chapter, Maurice had been kidding himself about the whole thing, and it doesn’t seem quite as rapey as it actually is; but then we’re thrown the word assault, and it becomes clear that we are, in fact, meant to understand that this was a horrible thing to even think of doing. 

in my opinion, the book in no way endorses Maurice's thoughts — i actually think that, for his time, Forster was taking a pretty noble stance. the introduction to my copy of Maurice, by David Leavitt, includes a quote from Lytton Strachey, who wrote to Forster, “you apparently regard the Dickie incident with grave disapproval. why?” like, pederasty was still celebrated amongst a lot of gay men at the time. the fact that the Dickie thing reads so uncomfortably at all is a testament to Forster's (correct) stance on the issue; i think you're meant to be grossed the fuck out by Maurice's thoughts. (also, not that this exempts him from criticism, but Forster himself was assaulted as a child; i think he very much understood the gravity of what he was suggesting.)

secondly, Maurice is an EXTREMELY flawed character, and it seems ludicrous to suggest that we're expected to sympathize with all of his thoughts and actions. he's an asshole for most of the book. much emphasis is placed on the fact that Maurice is an entirely average man within his time, location, and class; his opinions and actions fall in line with that, which is why i’m personally okay with his misogyny (even though i’d throw hands with him in real life). 

the big misunderstanding with a lot of Maurice’s flaws, i think, is that he isn’t a self-insert character, either for the reader or the author (consider the terminal note: “in Maurice i wanted to create a character who was completely unlike myself”). none of Forster’s characters are blank slates, to my mind — they all have extremely specific personalities; we’re not meant to be following them wholeheartedly the way we would with, say, Harry Potter. i worry some people read the book expecting to be able to back him 100%, but i think we're supposed to be observing Maurice, not putting ourselves in his shoes. (the omniscient narration helps with that, as we're told about elements of his psyche that Maurice himself isn't aware of. also, i’m no expert, so don't quote me here, but i think the concept of a self-insert protagonist is a sort of newer one? i feel like most books pre-mid-twentieth century have characters you're supposed to observe and criticize, and not wholly empathize with — Nick Carraway comes to mind.) 

lastly on his flaws, i think the genre you place the book in influences how angry you are at Maurice. if you see it as a romance novel, which is certainly a fair reading, his sudden moments of insane fucked-up-ness make it much harder to root for him. i’ve come to see it as more of a bildungsroman, so i think the point is Maurice's mistakes; he has to reckon with a lot of his actions, including the Dickie incident. 

the part of the whole Dickie debacle that’s the most fascinating to me is its context within Maurice’s discussion of sexuality. i think the Dickie incident showcases how sexual repression and internalized homophobia can pervert your perspective on all sexual relationships. within the novel, sex in general feels like something criminal (certainly in Maurice’s case this is true for sex between men; however, there are also the diagrams on the beach at the start of the book, and Anne’s complete lack of knowledge about sex when she marries Clive). if you view all sexual relationships as immoral, though, pedophilia and sexual assault become no more unethical than consensual sex. it’s interesting in that light, then, to compare the Dickie incident to the moment with the man on the train two chapters later: one absolutely should be illegal, but they are both interpreted by Maurice as obscene, and both (if acted upon) would have been criminal offenses. i also think it’s interesting that the man on the train is perhaps the closest comparison to Forster himself within the novel, as Forster, in middle age, cruised London’s public spaces in the hopes of finding someone to hook up with. while Maurice loathes the man on the train (David Leavitt’s introduction, again, discusses how Forster wrote a love story that deliberately excludes himself), i don’t think the reader is meant to. 

personally, the Dickie scene resonates with me as someone attracted to women. being told that your own desires are inherently predatory doesn’t dispel those desires, but only makes you ashamed of them, and warps your perception of healthy sexuality. i tend to interpret Maurice’s feelings about Dickie more as intrusive thoughts than actual, tangible want — this kind of obscenity, to his mind, is inevitable for him. i don’t think Maurice would have actually assaulted Dickie. i think he was cracking under the pressures of an openly hostile society, while grappling with his own repression and unmet needs. 

TL;DR — Maurice is a flawed character and Forster is critical of his actions. further, the Dickie incident gives us a striking picture of Edwardian society’s attitude towards all sexual relationships, which still has applications today; the episode also gives us insight into Maurice’s mental state. it’s uncomfortable, but in my opinion necessary to the core message of the book.

[gogglor]

Cap-Ironman RecWeek: Laugh Out Loud Friday

Third to last installment for @cap-ironman rec week, and today we’re focusing on fics that, in my humble opinion, are flipping hysterical. For me that tends to mean lots of snarky banter, but I found some hysterical situation comedy in my favs folder too when I was looking for recs today. In any event, if you’re in the mood for a giggle, here’s some fics that’ll deliver in spades.

Moanin’

Author: Captain_Panda

Word Count: 1,041

Summary: Wet. Steamy. Sultry. Jazz.  It's jazz.  In a bathtub.

Why You Should Read It:

Captain_Panda���s another Stony gem that puts out good stuff on the regular, and this one’s just such a delightful gem.

Tony is naked, sick, and high on cough syrup. Steve needs to get him a dinner held in his honor. Honestly, the mental imagery alone is enough to do it for me; it is a firm principle of mine that far more people should write naked, high Tony Stark. This fic’s short, but it’s a great one to go back to if you’re looking for something light and silly.

Bells Will Be Ringing

Author: scifigrl47

Word Count: 29,651

Summary: Steve Rogers is in love with Tony Stark.  He's determined that he's finally going to do something about that.   Christmas is a time for love and togetherness, and now may be the best chance he has. But some things aren't as simple as they should be.

Why You Should Read It:

I absolutely cannot let a funny Stony fic list happen without recommending something by sci, because dear lord in heaven they are a funny SOB. Pick any of their fics at random and you’ll end up with something equal parts hilarious and delightful. It’s honestly a crime that their work is available for free.

This fic is yet another sci masterpiece, complete with their regular hallmarks of the best goddamn banter I’ve ever read, well-developed characters, spectacular world-building, and a lovely emotional payoff at the end. Additionally, it is absolutely hysterical. If you wanna read about the Avengers Council of Lesbians and what happens if you give Clint Barton a box of Pixie Stix, give it a read.

A Good Vintage

Author: JenTheSweetie

Word Count: 6,727

Summary:  “You own a what?” After Ultron shows up, instead of taking the Avengers to his secret family, Clint takes them to his secret winery.  Things go… a little bit differently.

Why You Should Read It:

Honestly, it’s become a bit of a meme in the POTS server that everyone’s always recommending this fic, because A) It does not have nearly enough kudos, and B) Holy crap is it funny.

Clint owns a secret winery instead of a secret farm, and everybody goes there to lie low during Age of Ultron. There is drinking, and swimming, and 90′s hiphop, and a heck of a lot of nachos. Drunk decisions are made. Just a lovely Stony fic with a side of team bonding.

There’s Something Aboot Steve

Author: epicycles

Word Count: 2,314

Summary: "You know, it makes a lot of sense," Tony mused aloud, once all the shouting was over.  "You're so polite, you like maple syrup, you wear a lot of plaid."

Why You Should Read It:

Another one for the silly and delightful pile.

It turns out, Steve Rogers was born in Canada before immigrating to the U.S. when he was a few months old. What will the public say? Will Canada try to take him back? Are the Avengers prepared to fight their hockey-loving brethren to rescue Steve from the clutches of trained polar bears? All that and more answered in this fic.

Even My Phone Misses Your Call

Author: rainbowninja167

Word Count: 10,869

Summary:  Steve makes it all the way to Ohio before conceding that the post-Chitauri road trip might’ve been a mistake. Or, ten times Steve has to call Tony to come pick him up.

Why You Should Read It:

This one’s got more feels in in than what’s been on the list so far, but it’s all balanced perfectly against some damn funny stuff. Steve keeps getting into tight spots for one reason or another, and keeps calling Tony to come pick him up. Friendship, then something else develops from there.

One thing I really like about this one is that both Tony and Steve get to be the funny one. Snarky Steve is such a gift, as is “The serum enhanced all my senses except my common sense” Steve, and “I would be delighted to let you mistake me for a choirboy” Steve, all if which is present here. Add in some mutual pining and some high-quality smut and you’ve got a really delightful fic.

Out of Order

Author: elwenyere

Word Count: 4,368

Summary: After Tony and Steve hook up in the Tower elevator, both of them are totally cool with keeping it casual. Totally, totally cool.

Why You Should Read It:

El’s another author it wouldn’t feel right leave out of a list of funny as hell Stony writers, and one whose works you could draw from at random and strike gold.

This one tells a story through times Steve and Tony ride the elevator together, because why have one bottle episode when you can have six? Tony is a snarky bastard, Steve is a smitten grump, both of them are garbage communicators, and at one point Clint spills a bunch of Milk Duds and goes “Aww, Milk Duds no!”. I literally cannot tell you why I find that last one so funny but that scene lives rent-free in my head under a big sign that says “Examples of the Clint Barton We Should’ve Had in the MCU.” Anyway, go read this sweet, funny, delightful fic, it’ll be the highlight of your day.

Lastly, one self-rec, because a witch sent me into the woods to find a cow as white as milk, a cape as red as blood, a hair as yellow as corn, and 10,000 AO3 kudos.

Stupid Sexy Avengers

Author: gogglor

Word Count: 22,624

Summary: Tony, Steve, Nat, Clint, Bruce, Thor, Jane, and Rhodey all tell each other the funniest thing that's ever happened to them related to their sex lives. If you're interested in hearing the Avengers tell stories about their lives that are funny and mortifying and surprisingly sweet, you've found your fic.

Why You Should Read It:

It’s Clint’s birthday, and as a birthday present he asks Steve and Tony to tell him what happened that got Steve to stop being so shy about making sex jokes. The end result is everyone around the common room telling each other the funniest thing that’s ever happened to them related to their sexual histories.

This one’s a part 2 of a series, but I deliberately wrote it to stand on its own, so there’s no need to go back and read part 1. In it, you’ll find stories of disastrous language misunderstandings, ideas so bad only horny teenagers could think of them, the bonds of friendship forged and tested (in one case literally), and a giant blue glittery dildo named “Mr. Dick.” Personally I think it’s one of the funnier things I’ve ever written, but what do I know, I’m just a Tumblr post you didn’t even pay to read.

We’ve got two more days of Cap-Ironman RecWeek, and I am delighted to tell you all that some of the best is yet to come. Ta-ta for now!

[sestra-inestro]

Part of the Team (3/?)

Miniseries for @mushyjellybeans writing challenge. Hope you enjoy it!

Pairings: fem!reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Reader wakes up surrounded by people she knows but she doesn’t know enough to understand their reactions to her waking. 

A/N: I just really wanted to get this chapter over with, I was sick of it. I’m also not a doctor, I only spent a brief time in hospital recently so I still have no idea what I’m talking about but its fiction anyway. I also just started writing chapter 5...you guys got something coming because that shit made me sad, 

 Warnings: Slight amnesia, nothing really. Possibly typos - idk once again, I’m lazy and trust a program I downloaded to fix my mistakes. 

You could hear the voices of people around. Simple conversations and deliberate teasing. 

“If I threw one of the chairs out the window, how many spins do you think it would before it hit the ground?” You heard a male ask. 

“If you kept asking me dumbass questions I’m gonna throw you out the window. How many spins do you think you would do?” Another male said in response. 

There was a pause. 

“I mean we’re pretty high up so probably a few. It depends on the spin of your wrist.” 

“God, do you ever shut up?” 

“How about both of you shut up?” Another male butted in. 

There was another pause. 

“It was just a question.”

There was then what sounded like a clutter and someone struggling against someone else. 

“Stop it now.” Someone growled. 

Then a door opened. 

“I’m gonna have to ask some of you to leave. Fighting in the patients’ rooms is not tolerated.” A woman’s voice told the men and there was no argument as a shuffle of feet followed out of the room then the door closed again. 

The silence was cut short by the sound of fabric rustling next to you and a squeeze on your hand. You felt someone caressing the back of your hand and your fingers and a pair of lips connected with the palm of your hand. 

Feelings the affection, you willed yourself to move your fingers, but you couldn’t just yet. 

The door opened again and a woman’s voice. “Just a check-up.”  Another woman’s soft voice hummed in response next to you. As you felt movement around you, you managed to move your eyes around, eyelids becoming less and less heavy and you could finally see some light. The dull light in the room came with a sudden wave of nausea and pain. Which caused you to groan. 

The person next to you moved so fast another small wave of pain went through you.

“June?” She spoke and squeezed your hand. 

You squeeze your eyes shut again as pain throbbed in your temples. 

“Oh, June.” The woman sounded like she was sobbing. 

Coming to your senses, she sounds familiar. Those men sounded familiar. 

“It’s best if we give her some room, Ms. Romanoff.” Another woman’s voice said. 

The door opened again. 

“June? June, honey can you hear me?” A male called to you. 

“June, We are your nurses Luke and Amy. Can you hear us?” The same woman’s voice said. 

“She’s responding?” Said a different woman. 

“Yes, doctor.” Said the man.

Too many people in the room now, you try to open your eyes but more pain came. 

“Hurts.” You groaned. 

“Alright, June is okay.” Said one of the women. “We are going to give you some Morphine, does that sound good?” 

You groaned in response as you felt a rush of cold go through your arm. Soon enough the pain started to smooth and it became bearable to open your eyes. 

The first thing you see is a beautiful woman with velvet red hair, tied back but falling out everywhere. Her worried, green eyes peered down at you. Nat was here. 

“June?” Asked another woman. You look to your left to see a woman in a white coat next to you. “Can you tell me your date of birth?” 

You mumble your date of birth to her like muscle memory. 

“Okay good.” You watched her through strained eyelids as she scribbled something down on the pad she was holding. “Do you know what country you were last in?” 

You thought for a moment. “United States?” You doubted yourself, it felt like a distant memory of being in the United States.

The doctor studied you for a moment before nodding to herself. 

“June you are actually in London. You’ve been here for a long time.” She said. “I’m am your doctor, Dr. Patel. And you have been unconscious for the last week.” 

You frowned at her. You don’t even remember you became unconscious in the first place. Now you’re in London. 

You looked to Nat very confused. Your mind was all muddled. 

“Nat, happening?” You asked her.

She watched your eyes with hope. She hoped that you had remembered your time together but she dreaded you remembering the treatment that you suffered while they thought of you as a traitor. But, also dreading needing to tell you again.

Nat leaned forward and grasped your hand. “You got your head, June. You were on a mission here and you were hurt.” She told you. 

You were slightly taken aback by her tenderness towards you, as if you weren’t used to her touch anymore, or at all. 

“Was anyone else hurt?” You asked. 

“A few others, but they are all in their separate rooms. And the team is here too.” Nat reassures you. 

On cue, the door opens and in steps in Fury, Clint, Bucky, Sam, Steve and a woman who was almost Steve’s height with a strong sense of authority. She reminded you of Fury. And you heard Clint, Sam and Bucky arguing before. 

“Hey, guys.” You smile at them. 

The men’s worried faces turned into ones of soft smiles. Bucky waved at you from where he stood. 

“Hey there, June.” Steve said.

“So, none of the team got hurt? Just me?” Your words made Nat pause. 

“June, what’s the last thing you remember?” Nat frowned at you and ran her thumb over the back of your hand. 

You stumbled over the thoughts in your mind. Your memories felt so jumbled and a mess that it made your head hurt again. 

“I don’t know.” You uttered out after a moment of thought. 

“June.” The tall woman stepped forward. “Do you know who I am?” 

You thought for another moment before saying. “You’re familiar, but no, I don’t know you. I’m sorry.” 

She gave you a soft, close-mouthed smile. “No need to apologize. My name is Drew Campbell and I’m very glad that you’re okay.” She then looked to Fury, nodded and bid him fair well. 

“Okay, I think we should clear out and let the doctor do her evaluation.” Fury spoke up and ushered everyone out but Nat hesitates as everyone files out, not letting go of your hand. “It’s alright Ms. Romanoff, if June’s alright with you staying then you can stay.” 

She looks at you with pleading eyes as if begging you to let her stay. You squeeze her hand. 

“Please stay.” You told her. 

She smiled at you and nodded. “Of course I will.” 

~

Evaluating you, they came to the conclusion that you couldn’t remember a lot of the last 4 years. Very small memories you picked up on showed that you couldn’t connect them to major things that had happened. 

Not only could you not remember the entire investigation and the undercover agent, but you didn’t remember getting together with Nat. 

“We dated?” You asked her as she still held onto your hand. 

She nodded at you, both hands clasping your hand and rubbing her thumbs over your fingers. This loving warmth from her is something you once wished for when you first joined the team and its something that Nat had craved for longer than she would like to admit. 

“But we broke up?” You frowned to yourself and fiddles with the oxygen hose up your nose. It had been making you uncomfortable but they insisted that you keep it in to best measure your oxygen levels. 

“Yeah,” Nat looks down at your intertwined fingers. “Yeah, we broke up.” 

“What happened?” 

Nat took a deep breath. There was no way she could tell you about this right now, but she couldn’t not tell you. It would all be way too much. 

“It was a misunderstanding.” She told you. “A bad misunderstanding on my behalf and you tried to make it right but I didn’t listen. It’s my fault.” 

Her words make you sad. You could remember having the biggest crush on her, always observing how she fought and how she beat almost everyone at training. She was a whole lot of woman and after trailing after her for a while, you got together and broke up. And you don’t even remember it.

“I’m sure we can work it out?” You squeezed her hand in hopes of convincing her to start over. 

She gave you a sad smile. But one that held hope. But behind it was fear. 

“I hope so.” 

Nat went to lean down to you to place a kiss on your cheek when the door opened, the doctor, Steve and Fury stepped through. 

“The good news is that you are in a much better state than we thought you would be. A little time to rest and recover will do you a lot of good. We will keep you here for a couple more weeks, possibly days, before we send you home, though.” Doctor Patel said positively. 

“Oh good.” You were thankful that you’d be able to go back to the familiar soon. 

“But no missions for a long time. Your body still needs to heal from the bullet wounds and you don’t want to rattle your brain any more than you already have.” Steve pointed to you. 

You gave him a captain’s salute. “Yes, sir.” Trying to lighten the mood. 

“And when you’re all cleared to leave, we have your room set up for you back at the compound.” Fury assured you. 

“Okay.” You sighed. No matter what, you had a space to go back to. 

“I’ll try and stay here for as long as I can.” Nat tapped your hand. 

“Thank you.” You smiled at her. 

Tags: If you’re in the tags, please show some love and like, reblog, comment and share. It would be very appreciated. Crossed out is not working. 

@geekysimmerthings / @blackluthxr / @panoramahearts / @lesbiiionest  / @ludwigvonbaethoven / @cdc-1996 / @sexysamsungl / @daniellajocelyn / @90skid018 / @solaettristis / @5aftermidnight / @booksandlighters / @romeo-the-cactus / @xxxtwilightaxelxxx / @ashadash0904 / @perrythefrickinplatypus

[florencecastlewritings]

Writing Dialogue

Below the read more is a lesson on writing effective dialogue in fiction. As with everything in art, rules are there to be broken, so please do treat the below lesson as a guideline rather than a legal document, and remember that it is based on what works for me as well as advice I have received from other writers. It might not match your style, and that’s all right. It’s also a very lengthy blog post, but I have used headings to try and break it up and there’s a little contents of sorts at the start, so feel free to skim/skip where needed. 

If you do find it useful, however, please consider helping me through a tricky time by sending a few pennies my way via ko-fi. 

Dialogue is the written speech of your characters in your story. For some people, writing effective dialogue comes naturally, for others it feels almost impossible to master. It is worth considering, as well, the differences in dialogue for different kinds of media - in screenwriting, for example, a writer will be able to rely more heavily on actors’ expression, comic timing, body language and other effects such as music. However they will also be constrained by shorter time, more need for unnatural exposition, and lack of internal thoughts. The following lesson will focus on dialogue in fiction - for short stories or novels - although some rules will be applicable to dialogue in other mediums too, so they’re worth keeping in mind. 

The Purpose of Dialogue

Dialogue should:

Progress the story

Deepen character and relationship

Have realism

Be embellished/supported with suitable dialogue tags and appropriate narration. 

Easier said than done. Let’s take them one at a time. 

Progress the story

As with most writing, the writer needs to be constantly asking herself ‘what is the point?’ Why am I having my characters say/do/notice this? It may be to deepen character and relationship (and we’ll get onto that), but for longer stories we must acknowledge that the dialogue needs to move the plot along as well, as much as we might want to indulge in a bit of pointless fluff now and then. 

Dialogue can drive the plot in a more engaging and exciting way than plain narration. Narration on its own can be effective at building tension, but usually only in small doses, and having many pages of narration without dialogue or internal thought will feel more like a summary of events or a witness statement than the author would perhaps like. Consider the below: 

Breakfast was tense that morning. They ate silently as they pondered what to do. Michael buttering his toast so aggressively that it was surprising that the knife didn’t go through it. Susan asked him to stop, but that only started the arguing again. He accused her of expecting him to get over the affair so quickly. She threw back that there was nothing left to say if he refused to get therapy, and she had warned him for years that things had to change, and that it had been one foolish night in twenty years of unhappy marriage. She, Susan insisted, had excused plenty of foolish mistakes on his part. 

Compared to: 

‘Will you stop that?’ she said sharply. Michael did not pause in the furious buttering of his toast. ‘I said I was sorry.’ 

‘What, you say the magic word and I’m meant to shrug it off?’ he replied. ‘Pretend it never happened? Pretend you didn’t-’

‘You’ve made your anger perfectly clear, and I understand, but you don’t need to be so aggressive with everything, I get it.’ 

‘Oh, here we go. Buttering toast is aggressive now.’ 

‘Well, yes, like that - I’ve tried to talk to you like a grown up, but-’

‘It really bloody winds me up when you just say insane stuff patiently and without emotion and think that makes it acceptable, d’you know that? I’m allowed to be angry, you cheated.’

I could continue. The first example can pack a lot more information in, but using dialogue to drive the plot makes for more interesting and deeper meaning. It turns it into a story, rather than an account of events that occurred. It allows the writer to layer the plot with character work and unlock the story a little at a time.

In this regard, it is good to have your characters talking. To each other, to themselves, to the reader - whatever your particular style demands. Having that personable voice is engaging. 

There are a few “rules” to keep in mind in order to ensure you remain plot-focused with your dialogue:

Avoid small talk. Enter late, leave early. Naturally there are exceptions (if you want to emphasise the awkwardness of a relationship between two characters you might want to include some failed attempts at small talk), but the usual chit-chat and extended greetings that we are used to saying in every day life can normally be skipped or avoided. You don’t need to have lots of ‘hi, how are you?’  ‘I’m fine thanks, you?’ ‘Fine, cheers. Have you seen the rain?’ Your characters are allowed to just get to the point and your reader will thank you for it. 

Have characters on their own thought trajectories. This is a great way of driving the plot, and though it can be tricky to master it can really help in making your characters believable individuals as well as creating some conflict. If characters know each other, or both know the topic, they will likely jump ahead, make assumptions, fail to answer each other directly - this can be a great way of showing that they’re on the same wavelength, but can also be a vehicle for miscommunications and misunderstandings, or deliberately misleading one another. In that vein, don’t have the characters telling each other things they already know, unless made to sound believable. 

Similarly, don’t have characters say things solely for the benefit of the reader. This is called exposition, and while exposition is necessary, it can be clumsily handled in dialogue. It’s made fun of frequently in films where they have such limited time to get background information across. You definitely don’t want dialogue like ‘So, Michael, it’s been three years since your divorce, have you thought about dating again?’ Michael knows this, his insensitive friend knows this, the reader is not stupid and knows that it’s not natural sounding. If it must be said in dialogue, weave it into a more natural conversation - ‘I haven’t been to Ibiza in three years, and I don’t plan on going back any time soon. Don’t want to run the risk of bumping into Susan and Jorge.’ 

We’ll get onto weaving it in with narration and dialogue tags later, which makes that a lot easier, but, in short, use dialogue to drive your story. 

Deepen character and relationship

This is my favourite thing to do, and why I often prefer to write shorter stories than longer ones. A writer can find great joy in bringing a character to life through dialogue, dragging them away from plot vehicles and making them people of their own.

Firstly, it’s important to remember that your character’s background and personality will affect the way that they speak. If all your characters sound the same, they probably sound like you! A well educated character will obviously have a different way of talking than a common street urchin, but everyone has quirks and patterns to their speech that you can use to say a lot. You might use long meandering sentences with lots of rhetorical questions for a character known to be boring, for example. You might use short, sharp sentences for a character that’s grumpy or distracted with some deeper internal struggle. You can use the way two characters talk to each other to say a lot about their relationship and power dynamic, especially if you remember that good dialogue should have subtext (what isn’t being said being important).

A good example of this is from the short story Hills Like White Elephants, by Ernest Hemmingway (CW; indirect discussion of abortion). Consider the short passage below. 

‘It’s really an awfully simple operation, Jig,’ the man said. ‘It’s not really an operation at all. 

The girl looked at the ground the table legs rested on. 

‘I know you wouldn’t mind it, Jig. It’s not really anything. It’s just to let the air in.’ 

The girl did not say anything. 

‘I’ll go with you and I’ll stay with you all the time. They just let the air in and then it’s all perfectly natural.’ 

‘Then what will we do afterward?’ 

‘We’ll be fine afterward. Just like we were before.’ 

‘What makes you think so?’ 

‘That’s the only thing that bothers us. It’s the only thing that’s made us unhappy.’ 

The girl looked at the bead curtain, put her hand out and took hold of two of the strings of beads. ‘And you think then we’ll be all right and be happy.’

It’s a really interesting story that is almost entirely dialogue, so it’s well worth reading to get a good sense of using subtext. I wasn’t aware of the abortion connotations when I first read it because I hadn’t heard of the very dated term ‘letting the air in’, but really the story is great at demonstrating the uneven power dynamic between the two even without knowledge of what the operation is. Without much description (though ‘man’ and ‘girl’ says it all really, doesn’t it?), you get a sense that a much older man is persuading this reluctant girl into this act by leveraging how hopelessly in love she is with him, though he does not seem to feel the same way. He speaks most when he is trying to persuade her - the rest of the time he is snappish and short with her childish and ignorant questions about the world around them. The above passage is the only time in the story where he refers to her by a name, and we can gather that it’s a pet one. The girl’s silence says as much as her dialogue, and when she does speak it is questioning - looking to him for authority. 

Understanding character motivations and background is what makes this masterful use of dialogue. It would be tempting, for a novice writer, to have the girl argue. For her to say something like ‘what if we could be happy without it?’ But where that should be, there is silence, or repeating his thoughts back to him - because Hemmingway is not only driving the story but emphasising the imbalance of their relationship and her own naive nature. She would not argue with him, she can only wish that he will change his mind. This is all through dialogue and a tiny bit of narration, barely any dialogue tags, and really says so much without saying it at all. Show vs tell is about more than description after all. 

That kind of depth when it comes to writing dialogue is... really hard. I haven’t picked Hemmingway to suggest that this is the quality all writing should be at, and I certainly don’t mean to intimidate anyone. But it really is a golden example of thinking about your dialogue within the context of the character, and how their background, situation, and goals will affect how they respond and react to those around them. Your character may not always be able to say what is convenient for you, the author, to tell the reader, because it may not be in their nature or sound authentic. But there are clever ways around that and it can make for more powerful writing, between the lines of what is said. 

Have realism

If you skipped down to this bit, I understand. It’s the area that people most often struggle with. I find that people tend to fall into two traps here - either their characters sound like robots because they are over formal and have too much emphasis on being grammatically correct or over eloquent at the expense of natural dialogue, OR they swing in the other direction and try to replicate perfectly how people speak in day to day life. 

If you do have a problem with stilted dialogue, it is a good idea to listen to how people naturally speak and try typing it out to get yourself out of the habit. But on the whole, the way people normally speak actually doesn’t sound that great in written format. In real life, we use lots of filler words, we get muddled, we go off on tangents, we trail off, we stutter and stammer and phrase things badly, we um and ah and say far more with our body language and expression than we realise. If you ever read transcripts, from interviews or courts, you’ll see how much of it actually doesn’t make a lot of sense. Our brains make sense of it when we listen to others, based on other parts of communication. Yes, sometimes adding in a ‘er...’ is beneficial and good, and you might have a really nice character moment of someone anxious trailing off when they realise no one is listening to them. Sprinkling those moments in can absolutely make your dialogue sound more authentic, especially when carefully used with character knowledge, but be careful not to over use it. In written dialogue, our characters can and should be more articulate and quicker to formulate their thoughts than in real life for the sake of the story. Striking that balance between overly structured and too real and easy can be really hard, but it only comes with practice - reading dialogue out loud can be a big help, as can writing the dialogue first with no narration or speech tags (more on that later). 

Some common mistakes when it comes to dialogue: 

Having one character speak too long without a break. Monologues are tough to get through as a reader and don’t come up often in real life in any meaningful way. They can end up cheesy or exposition heavy. Occasionally you can get away with it with very particular characters, but in general, avoid. 

Over use of names. It’s really distracting as a reader if dialogue is constantly like, ‘what do you think, Harry?’ ‘Charlie, I just don’t know.’ ‘Really, Harry, you need to decide if you’re going to marry her or not.’ ‘I know, you’re right, Charlie.’ Use names to get someone’s attention and then don’t use them again unless you need to make it clear to the reader who the character is talking to. 

Not using contractions. Even very formal people use contractions such as don’t and won’t, it is part of natural rapid speech. Save the ‘do not’ and ‘will not’s for when the emphasis is really needed. 

Having characters speak in unison. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes this can be used to hilarious effect and can always be used for a bit of comedy. But on the whole people don’t do this, including twins. 

Misuse of slang or dialects. If you’re going to use it, make sure you do your research. It’s also worth bearing in mind that if you over use it, it will be hard for the reader to understand and may break immersion. 

Over explain for the reader. I mentioned this before but it’s worth repeating. If you went outside right now and saw a UFO, you would probably shout something along the lines of ‘wtf is that?’, and you would perhaps point or scramble for your potato to take a shaky video. You would probably not shout, ‘look at flying saucer! I’ve never seen anything like it!’ Think carefully about realistic reactions, even if they are not particularly convenient to you as a writer. 

Over use of exclamation marks/caps lock. People aren’t that vibrant and it’s tiring to read. The less you use it, the more punch it packs. 

Using narration and dialogue tags

First, a quick grammar lesson. Sorry. 

‘This is some speech.’ 

‘This is also some speech,’ said the character. 

‘Is this also speech?’ asked another. 

‘Well,’ said the first, ‘yes.’ 

‘Brilliant,’ said the other. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’ 

I use single quotation marks because I’m British and annoying, the conventional double quote marks the Americans use (”like this!”) is also correct. The only important thing is that you pick one and stick to it. Quotation marks always surround the words that are being spoken aloud, and must be opened and closed. Where the sentence ends, you must use a full stop (period), or another piece of punctuation like a question or exclamation mark before closing the speech with the marks. 

Where there is a dialogue tag (he said/said/replied, etc), the sentence is continuing, so a comma is more appropriate (but you can also use a question/exclamation mark and the sentence still continues), and again this must go before the speech marks close the dialogue. If you want to continue the sentence with the dialogue tag in the middle, you can continue by using another comma, or you can end the sentence with a full stop and continue the dialogue as a new sentence. 

Use a new line for a new character speaking.

Phew, that’s over so you can pay attention again. But unfortunately I still have more to say. 

Here is a fun little exercise. Take the below dialogue between two characters, A and B. 

‘Do you love me?’ 

‘You’re drunk.’ 

‘Why won’t you answer the question?’ 

‘Sit down. I’ll make you a tea.’ 

‘I don’t want tea, I want an answer! Tell me!’  

The dialogue alone already tells us a bit of a story - a picture is probably already forming in your head, perhaps of the characters, perhaps of the setting. As it stands it’s ok, and if you struggle with dialogue it can be effective to write only the dialogue out in this way (this tip from my writing teacher also helped me cut down on purple prose!). But now look at the scene: 

It was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that Alex was woken at 3am by repeated bangs on the floor and shouts through the letterbox. Nothing else would have made her rise from bed. If she had suspected even for a moment that it was anyone else, she would have called the police. 

But as usual, it was Sam. Blonde, tousled hair a mess, eye make up smudged, pouting lips trembling as she swayed. 

‘Do you love me?’ 

‘You’re drunk,’ said Alex, wincing as Sam’s grey eyes shone with tears. ‘You’d better come in.’ 

‘Why won’t you answer the question?’ 

Alex ignored her, pulled her in by her slender arm. ‘Sit down. I’ll make you a tea.’ 

‘I don’t want tea. I want an answer. Tell me!’ Sam’s voice was loud and high, and it pierced her. 

So, we haven’t actually added that much narration or dialogue tags (t’s best, if you can, to avoid using them too much), but we’re able to give a clearer picture of these two characters. You may even now be reading the dialogue in a different tone to the one you originally did - picturing the scene with a different feel. Not convinced? How about now? 

Yet again, as had happened dozens of bloody times before, Alex was woken at 3am by incoherent, slurred shouting through the letterbox. 

‘Do you love me?’ was Sam’s immediate demand as Alex wearily opened the door. 

Alex rubbed her hand over her bleary eyes and sighed. ‘You’re drunk. You’d better come in.’ 

Sam turned on the tears at once, mascara running in thick, spidery lines down her blotchy cheeks. ‘Why won’t you answer the question?’

‘Sit down,’ Alex muttered. ‘I’ll make you a tea.’ She stood aside and jerked her head towards the living room.

‘I don’t want tea, I want an answer! Tell me!’ 

Wincing once more at her piercing shriek, Alex closed her eyes. 

The very same dialogue can be shaped by carefully worded narration and dialogue tags. It’s a fun exercise to do with writing buddies - all use the same dialogue and see how different the stories come out. It can also be a pretty nifty way to challenge writers block or shake up a scene you’re struggling with. 

Some extra tips from my writing teacher - I fully confess that I am not always the best at following these ones, because my writing has been heavily influenced by JK Rowling who also doesn’t seem to set much store by them. But they are good, and since I’ve kept them in mind my writing has improved. 

Avoid overuse of adverbs (’she said nervously’). Use action or dialogue alone to convey this information instead. 

Avoid overuse of verbs besides ‘said’. The reader will skim over said and barely notice it, if every character is whispering and muttering and shouting all the time it stilts the flow of the scene - use sparingly.

Use tags when necessary to ensure clarity as to who is speaking, otherwise let the dialogue stand for itself. 

Use internal thoughts in place of speech tags sometimes. 

Use action beats (’he turned to stare coldly out of the window’) in place of speech tags sometimes to help set the pace of the scene. 

I hope this very lengthy post has helped! Please do get in touch if you have any further questions or would like any elaborations on anything I’ve mentioned here, or if you have suggestions for future lessons!

Lastly, I hate to do this but times must - if you have even just a couple of quid to send my way it would be a massive help to me. If you did find this useful, please consider donating to my kofi.