#and i can usually at least kind of get what people are getting out of certain things

[paragonrobits]

honestly this whole thing being treated as an exclusive problem to superhero tropes in general, or implying that superheroes as a concept are inherently bad because I guess people assume they were specifically created to Keep The People Down or what-not, REALLY ANNOYS ME A LOT so this seems a good opportunity to make a point:

this trope is not specific to superheroes, and has been a thing for quite a while in fiction overall, specifically in TV and films (and at the risk of being snappy and letting irritation doing the talking, thus in mediums that get the most coverage and it makes people sound like a series doesn't exist if its not in TV or movies)

At its worst, this is basically a low-effort way to give a villain some nuance without putting much thought into it. It's not really meant to imply, at least in most cases, that their goal or motive is BAD, as some people seem to suggest. This is probably an outgrowth of the common idea of a villain being the hero of their own story; its common to suggest that a villain MUST have some kind of moral point or heroic quality to them, and that's basically where this comes up; its a less well-written handling of that concept by using it to get some pathos into a villain that can often be counterproductive.

I'm gonna go out on a limb here and suggest that its not suggesting that their cause is BAD; indeed, the writer implicitly means that their cause is good, because that's where the villains Good Cause Points come from; if it wasn't a good cause to them, they wouldn't be trying to humanize the villain by rooting them in that cause.

It's not exclusive to superheroes by any means, and the general trend predates the modern superhero genre in film and television, at least in the post-MCU sense.

The other point to be made is that sometimes, the supervillain isn't actually concerned by a problem at all, and they're just using it as an excuse to satisfy their own personal grudges, because it gets them support as they pursue their own goals, or because they're cynical manipulators who never gave a damn about that problem but it furthers their own goals to manipulate others who DO care about that problem.

There is also one other aspect; sometimes the villain does genuinely believe in solving a problem, but their understanding of it is completely divorced from reality, or their intended plans are inherently a bad thing. For example, lets take the common idea of Poison Ivy as a heroic eco-heroine fighting corporations who pollute the planet. All well and good, but Ivy actually doing that is an extreme outlier in her established character. More often than not, what she's actually doing it is causing massive destruction that gets a lot of completely unrelated people killed because her explicit end goal is the complete genocide of all human life, and at extremes, all ANIMAL life as well. This makes her a textbook ecofascist of the 'kill all people, especially the ones that have no power to do anything about ecological destruction' kind.

This is closer to the sort of villains you're actually likely to see; their stance on a problem is completely destructive, counterproductive and generally just kind of evil. Thats why heroes stop them; because their entire plan is to kill lots of people while making vague comments about 'x thing is the Real Evil' or something like that.

This, uh, also tends to be the actual nature of villains that fandoms often present as enlightened True Heroes unjustly antagonized by heroes. Almost every time, they only give lip service to any real goal and mostly just want to kill lots of people or do large scale disasters to satisfy their own grudges, and as such they're not really meant to be taken seriously.

And from another point of view, its like this: the reason we don't usually see the hero solving that problem is because that's not the focus of those sort of stories. If you're going in for an adventure story about someone with fantastical powers have action-filled showdowns with larger-than-life antagonists, its not really reasonable to expect it to suddenly swerve into a political treatsie about sociological phenomenon just because the villain of the week makes some vague references to societal ills as they start kicking orphans into a giant blender to fuel their giant robot that's going to burrow to the core of the earth and blow it up.

Its a fairly basic writing bit to give a villain some apparent nuance without having to do much more, and that's basically it. And to follow the metaphor, I don't think its really reasonable to give a go-ahead to the sort of person who kicks orphans into blenders just because they make some vague references to a greater good and then never follow up on it. As a villain, their only real purpose is to be an entertaining roadblock, rather than 'a hero but kinda edgy' as the term seems to become around some fandoms.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Oh, should i request it again then?

Damian pining after a male reader, its like his first big crush, its like their first patrol and damians all like "should i confess or nauh..."

Damian didn’t do feelings, or at least he liked to say he didn’t but in actuality he was raised by those who felt that emotions hindered his potential, his progress and thus installed the idea that the moment he started to feel something; he was bound to become a dead man.

So when he realised that he was developing a crush on you- a fellow vigilante- Damian knew he was a man doomed to fall upon his sword because he felt as though he needed to keep you safe, despite knowing well enough that you were capable of taking care of yourself if you managed to stay alive as long as you had.

However main couldn’t help but notice how vastly different you both were from one another. He had rough edges, a sandpaper like surface that felt like thousands of sharp teeth like fangs, he wasn’t exactly a welcoming presence to others; unlike you as you were the exact opposite of him. You were soft yet firm, strong enough to be able to give other kindness, and wielded a will power of pure iron and unyielding strength to push through any and all adversity.

A true reason for people to hope for a brighter future in comparison to him, but as Dick told him once, opposites attract and it was only natural for Damian to feel pulled towards you that he couldn’t explain. He still couldn’t explain it and it sent him mad at most times, but now that he was here with you on patrol, he couldn’t help but feel that things were becoming clear to him now as your presence tended to clear the fog within his head and help things seem clearer then before.

Now Damian faced a completely different challenge, should he confess to you of his innermost feelings, or remain true to what he was taught and keep the emotions within his chest until he -or they- died. This conflict raged even more within poor Damian as his shoulder brushes yours ever so slightly, causing his breath to hitch and his body to straighten upon instinct, all the while you only smiled at him and Damian damned his heart for speeding up at the sight of such a small thing.

‘You okay dami? You seem a little more brooding than usual.’ You said teasingly.

‘It’s nothing.’ He replied straightforward, his eyes firmly locked on the city you both swore to better, to protect and change.

You furrowed your brows, concerned. ‘Are you sure? If you don’t feel up to going on patrol with me I can always get dick to-‘

‘No.’ Damian almost shouted at the idea of having to deal with his brother talking his ear off about how he missed his opportunity to confess to you tonight, and how he’ll have to try and find another way to set you and him up on a mission. ‘I’ve just got a lot on my mind, I’m sorry if I come off as snippy or rude.’ You smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing as all Damian could do was get lost within your gaze, words that he wanted to say died on his tongue as his mind blanked everything out but you.

‘Good, I wouldn’t want my Damian to get bored of me now.’ You joked as you patted his shoulder twice before letting your hand drop to your side again before choosing to overlook the city yourself. Unaware that Damian’s eyes had long shifted to you in the process. He hated how you made him feel but didn’t want to live in a life without it either, it was the most frustrating thing he’s ever felt but yet the most beautiful and he wanted to explore it deeper, it reminded him of how he often had issues with how his art came off a times to the point he had to redo the entire piece all over again.

‘Bored? You’re the only person I can wilfully tolerate on patrols.’ Damian found himself saying upon instinct but thankfully for him, you didn’t think more of it other than him being blunt.

‘I’m glad because I’m staring to like you Damian.’ You admitted.

Damian wondered whether you knew what you were saying and the way they made him feel half of the time, but at least you were more open with your emotions then him, so when Damian went back to the thought of confession to you he decided that tonight wouldn’t be the night; he still had time to do so and besides Damian didn’t fell it would be appropriate to confess on a patrol, perhaps an outing with his dogs would suffice instead?

[spiderm444rk]

LOST IN TRANSLATION - mark lee smau

20. can you two stop flirting ?? (written)

not proofread

You glance at Mark, who keeps absentmindedly picking at the strings of his guitar with one hand. He’s nervous, you can tell, and honestly you get it. This is a big day for everyone after all - all students want to know who will become the newest member of the band.

“You got this man, okay ?” Donghyuck dramatically places his hand on Mark’s shoulder, patting it repeatedly. “You’ll do good. You’ll do the best, actually. If someone’s capable, it’s you.”

“Yeah, fuck those losers who think they’re better just because they major in music.” Jisung scoffs. “We’ll see if they’re really as talented as they claim to be. Or if they’re just too dense to study a real major.”

“You say that like you aren’t failing two subjects already.” Mark mumbles, but doesn’t look up from his guitar.

Jisung’s eyes widen when Donghyuck giggles at him and puts a hand on his chest. “M- me ? Failing ? I’m doing perfectly fine.”

Donghyuck snorts at him. “We all know that’s a lie. You got like 6 points from the last physics exam.”

“But I can retake it ! It doesn’t mean anything !”

You look over at Jeno, who’s mostly been quiet ever since he joined you and Mark here, scrolling through his phone. It seems like he’s used to the two boys always bickering. He’s munching on some chips that Donghyuck and Jisung brought, and as soon as he notices your gaze, he smiles, still with his mouth full, and offers you the pack.

You smile back gratefully and grab a handful of chips from the pack. “Thanks.”

Jeno is definitely the most peaceful one in the friend group. You didn’t even have to spend that much time with him and you could already tell he’s kind and respectful, and also always willing to be there for the people he cares about. You’re starting to understand why Jaemin likes him. And honestly ? Good for him. He definitely needs someone stable in his life.

But since you’re usually the one doing most of the talking, it feels odd, sitting in silence with Mark who barely said anything in the last two hours and his three friends who you saw like twice in your life. But you understand that Mark needs you right now and you’re willing to sit this one through if it makes him feel better. The boy almost had a meltdown when you tried to stand up and go get some coffee, thinking you’re leaving him there by himself. You can’t do that to his pour soul.

Mark suddenly groans again, stretching a little in his seat and resting his head against the wall behind his head. “Y/n.”

You pause in surprise and turn to him. “Yeah ?”

“Will you be mad if I don’t make it ?“

You blink and have to chuckle a little, leaning closer to him. “Mark… this is your chance. You aren’t doing it for me, or the boys, or anyone else. You’re doing it for yourself. Why would I be mad at you ?”

He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, but it turns out to be a little too deep, resulting in a cough. “I don’t know. What if you trusted me a little too much and I’m just not good enough ? You spent so much time with me while I practiced, had to listen to me rant and stress over everything-“

“And I did it willingly, didn’t I ?” You tilt your head, your eyes full of affection. “Have I ever complained about it ? I liked spending that time with you. I’m glad I got to share your experience and learn something about you. And even if you don’t get in, it’s alright. Stuff like that happens. There’ll be other opportunities. It’s not the end of the world.” You smile reassuringly, nodding at him a little. “But I know how you play and I genuinely believe in you. Stay calm and show them what you got, guitarist boy, hm ?”

Mark raises his head, finally meeting your gaze. His lips are parted in surprise and he stays silent for a few seconds, just taking your words in. But before he can even get the chance to respond, Donghyuck scoffs, crossing his arms. “Can you two stop flirting for one day, at least ? Ugh.”

Mark’s cheeks immediately heat up. “We weren’t flirting-“

“You’re just mad that there’s a hot redhead present and she’s not giving her attention to you, but someone else.” Jeno chuckles and throws the now empty pack of chips away from across the room, surprisingly getting it into the dustbin. Jisung nods appreciatively at the shot and Jeno shakes his head again.“You don’t have to pretend that you don’t, Hyuck.”

You look between the boys, suddenly feeling a bit out of place. “Uh…”

Mark chuckles and rubs the back of his neck shyly, not enjoying the heavy atmosphere right now. “Don’t mind them. They’re being stupid.”

Donghyuck opens his mouth to defend himself but is interrupted by the sound of the speakers turning on:

“Hey everyone ! This is Taeyong speaking. All students who are going to audition for the position of our new guitarist, please gather in the auditorium hall and pick up your number. We’ll call out your number when it’s your turn to perform ! Good luck, everyone !”

The speakers turn off again and all five of you just kind of sit there in silence, stunned. Then you notice the slight pressure on your thigh and look down, only to see Mark’s hand gripping your leg, hard. Mark follows your gaze and curses, retracting his hand immediately. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m just so nervous-“

“It’s fine.” You stand up, turning around to face the boys. “So this is it, then. Are you ready ?”

Donghyuck and Jisung exchange glances while Jeno just looks between Mark and you suspiciously, but you don’t pay any attention to that. Mark groans and grips his guitar a bit tighter. “I hope I am…”

“You can do it, Mark.” Jisung speaks up. “You’re talented. Embrace it.”

“Exactly. Just stay confident and don’t fuck it up, hm ?” Donghyuck ruffles his hair, to which Mark scoffs and pulls away.

“Plus, we’ll be in the audience.” Jeno stretches a bit and also stands up. “You aren’t alone.”

Mark takes a deep breath and nods. “I know. It’s not the end of the world either. I just need to stay calm…”

You grab his free hand and pull him to his feet. “Yeah, but if we don’t hurry up, you’ll be the last one to perform and I don’t think you want that, Mark.”

His eyes widen and he looks at you in horror. “God, no I don’t wanna go last…”

“Yep. So let’s go.” You wave at the boys quickly, already dragging Mark away. “We’ll see you guys later.”

Mark also waves at them, walking away like he’s dreading every step, basically hugging his guitar tight to his body for comfort. You snort but don’t comment on it until you both reach the auditorium hall. When you look at him, Mark is already staring at your face, looking like a deer caught in headlights. You coo at him, carefully fixing his clothes as you both wait in the queue for his number. “You’ll do well, Mark. There’s nothing you should be worried about.”

“I know, I can’t help it. Sorry.” He watches your fingers play with the button of his shirt.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” You shake your head. “I’m just saying, I believe in you. And I’m already proud of you, no matter what the results will be. You proved yourself to me already, you know ?” You smile and look up to meet his eyes, a little taken aback by the intensity of his gaze on you.

He reaches out, gently pushing a few strands of hair away from your face. You gasp quietly in surprise, your breath catching in your throat at the unexpected action but you let him, not pulling back. He doesn’t look away from your face either, appreciating your closeness silently.

“I really can’t ever thank you enough, Y/n.”

“You thanked me plenty of times already. It’s getting pretty annoying, honestly.” You grin, crossing your arms.

“Yeah, but I mean it. I’d probably chicken out and not audition at all if it wasn’t for you. You push me to be good. I didn’t- I didn’t know how to do that before.”

You stare at him, not knowing what to say. Yeah, Mark was always a bit shy, and also quiet as hell before you practically forced him to be friends with you, but you wouldn’t say you’re the reason why he’s doing so good right now, after all he’s the talented one-

“Next !”

Mark breaks the eye contact to go pick out his number and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. You watch him check the small paper, turning it around in his hands. “I got 38.”

You also glance at the paper. “Well, that isn’t so bad, is it?”

Mark shakes his head, putting it in his pocket. “Nah, it’s fine.” He takes a deep breath again, rubbing his arm, visibly stressed as hell, even though told him not to be. “I’ll try to find you in the audience, yeah ?”

“Mark-“ you groan and wrap your arms around his shoulders firmly, not giving him any room to protest. But based on how his hands practically fly up to your waist to hug you back, he wasn’t going to. “I told you you’ll do great. I love the way you play. And I’ll love seeing you on that stage. Take deep breaths, okay ?”

Mark nods against your neck, ignoring how the guitar is poking both of you right now since he’s still refusing to put it down entirely. “I know. I know…”

You pat his head affectionately, a smile starting to spread on your face. “Do you want me to record you ? So you can watch it when you’re done ?”

He freezes. “You’d do that ?”

“Of course I would. What do you have me for ?”

He nods against your neck again, still not letting you go, but then he sighs and takes a step back. “I should go in… I’ll find you later, yeah ?”

You chuckle and nod reassuringly. “Mhm. I’m not going anywhere.”

He starts walking backwards slowly, not wanting to look away from you yet. “Yeah. So see you later.”

“Later.” You smile to yourself as you watch him leave, and you have to turn around and hide your face so you dont start giggling out loud at the way he almost knocks down an entire shelf with his guitar. This is going to be a long day.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─

A/N: i wrote this last night while drinking champagne i hope it still makes sense somehow🤗🤗

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[alexanderwales]

I've been trying to get a good overview of communist art, and it's difficult, partly because of the language barrier, but also partly because I think what I want isn't the art itself, it's a comparison of how the landscape of art-making shifts.

Movie-making, in particular, is a massive undertaking that requires a fair amount of time and money if you want to do it right. You need someone to write it, someone to direct it, someone to act in it, a cinematographer, some lighting, sound and music ... under a communist model, none of this would actually change. You would still need to acquire the personnel and make sure they were housed and fed. You would still need sets to be built and artists to devote their time and energy.

So one of the common criticisms of capitalism is that it produces Bad Art, that everyone is just trying to make a buck and they don't care about the product unless it finds consumers who will pay out cash. Everything is geared for the lowest common denominator. This gets worse as you involve more and more capital.

But I've always wondered: is this not also true under communism?

I don't mean in practice, that question is simple, all you have to do is read up on the film production processes from a number of different communist and formerly communist countries, whose source materials are often not accessible in English, mired in propaganda and disputes, and cover many decades. Easy peasy. I did what I think is a surface skim, but the common threads were that film studios were state-owned, scripts were approved by party officials, there were regular reviews during production, and a final review before release. You usually have to promote socialist values, or at least not criticize the current regime, and you have reviews for "ideological content". In spite of all this, some good movies got made, some bad movies got made, and some movies were banned for lack of ideological conformity or "frivolity". There are different eras to filmmaking in every country, times when the industry was thriving and times that it crashed to the ground in spectacular fashion as the government involved itself. A lot depended on who was in power and what the then-current ideology was. I think it's tempting to say that the widely agreed upon "great films" got made in spite of having ideological overview, but it's hard for me to evaluate that claim, and if someone said "the great American films were made in spite of capitalism" I think that also would be a difficult claim to evaluate, even though I've actually seen a pretty substantial amount of the canon and speak the language most often used in analysis of production processes.

No, what I mean is that in theory there's someone that has to be running the numbers. The film studio is state-run, sure, everyone is in state housing or whatever, they're getting food somehow ... but someone, somewhere, is authorizing all this. You don't make a film without a plan, so those plans have to be submitted to someone, or a committee, and that committee has to decide which films will get made and which will remain a dream. And if they're doing that, then they're either trying to make the film that they think benefits the country the most, or they're applying their own taste and judgment, but probably both.

And if you're under some kind of model where no one runs the numbers, where film-making is entirely volunteer work, then you still have problems, because you need this large volunteer organization, and you need to bring them in on your vision, and if they can just walk away, you need to maintain that energy and vision through the whole process.

I guess what I'm saying is that yes, capitalism presents problems when it comes to this specific artform, but I feel like as soon as you're out from under the yoke of the dollar, you're immediately under some other yoke. And I do wish that when people saw a bad film and said "the problem is capitalism" they would take a moment to consider that maybe there is always necessarily going to be oversight and compromise, just because of the nature of the enterprise.

This does not apply nearly so much to other forms of art, like those that can be done by a single person sitting in a room all alone.

[genderqueerdykes]

I'm gonna be real for a minute, and i hope i can phrase this right; i dont feel bad when i get misgendered. whether on purpose or accident, I don't feel anxious or angry or anything like that. like, when it happens mid conversation, it's at the back of my mind, sure, but it's hard to get upset about it. if anything, its a bit....i guess, affirming? I mean, there was this one time I was at the store dressed like i usually am, and when someone called me to a particular place, they initially said "sir" before correcting themselves and I remember thinking something along the lines of "wow....they couldnt tell what i am" and it felt.....good. I am genderfluid, but my presentation stays pretty consistent most of the time, so I kind of expect people to immediately clock me as my AGAB. so when I'm referred to as anything but that, it's more of a surprise than an offense, if that makes sense. to tell the truth, I dont know if this is a good or bad thing, but I do know it's probably got a name. anyway, I understand youre dealing with a lot right now, so i hope youre at least stable for the moment, whatever you're doing.

i've met other people who feel the same way, you're not alone!

a lot of people either just aren't affected by being misgendered at all, and others like you mentioned, actually enjoy the fact that strangers can't tell what gender you are. i'm actually the same way, i get such a rush out of people not knowing what gender i am. it's honestly great, as a genderqueer person, i often get he and she'd and ma'am and sir'd in the same conversation and it can be pretty awesome. i think for a lot of genderfluid and genderqueer and genderfucky people, this can be a pretty affirming situation!

i'm not sure if there's a term for this experience, but i would say it's not a bad thing! if it makes you feel good, and you're literally not hurting anyone, then yeah that's a good thing!

thank you so much i appreciate you! i'm taking it easy for a few days due to the holidays, so i appreciate that! i hope you're doing well, as well.

[ameliathornromance]

“Really (Y/N), look at this!” Your Siren boyfriend flapped his netted tail, spitting salty seawater into your face, as you worked to try and untie the net from around his fins.

Pausing in your work, you wiped your lips on your sleeve, your boyfriend sighed, cupping his face with his hand. “It’s fine that you all want to eat fish, it’s why we farm them the way we do, but at least pick up after yourselves!”

“Well… that’s why I do what I do,” you mumbled as you returned to unknotting the plastic rope.

If someone had told you a year ago, that you would be working on trying to free a Siren from the confines of an abandoned fishing net, you would have laughed in their face.

It was a ridiculous notion; Sirens weren’t real. Even if they were, it’s not like the charity you worked for would specialise in cleaning them up. Sirens were, by all accounts intelligent and – from your experience – seemed to be very good at not getting trapped by rouge plastic.

The charity only worked on helping animals who’d been caught up in freak oil spills and plastic that had been thrown into the ocean. Usually, you helped seagulls, pollock, mackerel, sea bass, halibut, tuna. You know, the regular creatures you find at sea.

Not giant half-man-half-fish things that got caught up in a net every month.

And it was always at the same time too, every Wednesday afternoon when you were doing your beach garbage patrol-

At that realisation, you stopped trying to undo the net. “Hey.” You said, sharply.

The Siren, who had been picking at the sand underneath his claws froze and looked at you, “yes bubbles…?” His voice trailed in a sing song.

Oh, so he knew he was in trouble. “You know I tell you to avoid these things,” you turned your head around to look at him, eyes narrowing. “You know what they look like, how dangerous they are to you and the rest of the ocean…”

As the edge grew in your voice, your Siren boyfriend seemed to shrink with each inflected syllable. “So why,” you glowered. “In God’s green earth, do you always end up caught in them?!”

If it weren’t for the fact that your boyfriend knew he needed to be set free of this net, he would have sunk back into the ocean below the docks you sat on, and given you his innocent puppy eyes he gave his victims.

He tried it then, big yellow eyes widening.

“Nu-uh, don’t give me that look you know you’re not supposed to be doing this!” You pointed a finger at him accusingly.

Casting a look down at his tail, he sighed. “I know.”

“You know I’ve got other animals to look out for as well right? You can’t be taking up all my time like this.” You sighed, “this is, what, the eighth net I’ve had to free you from?”

“How would I see you then?” The Siren asked.

Words caught in your throat, “w-what?”

Your Siren sighed, giving a slow swish of his tail, “I feel like the only time I ever see you is when you’re working. And even then, I can’t approach you and speak to you, because of the other people you work with.” He frowned, “… this is the only way I feel like I can see you, it’s not like I can call you on that weird metal block you have.”

He made the shape of your phone by shaping his thumbs and index fingers into Ls and joined them together at the tips of his fingers to make a rectangle shape.

Pursing your lips, you thought about what he’d said. Going over the past few months in your head, you understood what he meant.

There had been a huge oil spill a few months ago and the company who was responsible for it was run by a selfish old fart who refused to pay for the clean up, and only did so when the Government forced his hand.

Luckily, the workers who were responsible for the oil spill, had been more than willing to help in their spare time, and worked hard to clean up fish as well as pick up any plastic waste they found.

You had been stuck with training them, as well as trying to clean up reluctant seagulls and any other kinds of animals which had been caught up in the toxic hydrophobic liquid.

Gripping the loose net in your hands, you sighed. “...I’m sorry about that. I hadn’t realised that I’d been spending more time away from you. It’s just because of that oil and the new volunteers-”

Your Siren furrowed the skin above his eyes. “I understand why, bubbles. But, if we could make some kind of agreement to meet up regularly… that might work for the both of us. I could hide out and wait until you came, and you could come whenever you’ve got the time and we can see each other then!”

You smiled at that. “That sounds like a great idea. How about sunset every Friday? It would be nice to be able to see you on the best day of the week.”

The Siren returned your smile, long, pointed teeth in his mouth. “Okay! As long as you can make it every time.”

“I swear I’ll be able to.” You frowned, “why didn’t you just ask me to do that instead of doing this?” You held up the net.

Your Siren’s smile fell. “I… didn’t want to make a difficult decision for you. The ocean is important to the both of us, and I didn’t want to impede on your mission to help it so…”

“Choosing between you and work, will never be a difficult decision.” You told him firmly. “Both are important, but I value our relationship. It’s thanks to you that I’ve been able to pull out so many fishing nets from the ocean.” You held up the net, and your boyfriend gurgled out a laugh.

“I’ll keep bringing you more if I find any.” And with that, he shook his tail. And just like that, the net came loose and he was free.

You stared, shocked.

At your expression, your Siren gave a mischievous grin. “What? It’s not like I could have gotten here with it on my tail now, is it?”

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@sunndust @greenie-c

[ambivertedme]

Not sure where this is going, but I just know I need to write about First and Khao—their magic deserves the spotlight.

I’m not sure why I overlooked Eclipse (and FirstKhao), but watching them as SandRay in Only Friends made me fall hard for their brilliance.

Now, I absolutely adore them as SandRay—they were one of the main reasons I watched the series. Not saying the show is bad or anything, but it’s just not my vibe; I don’t usually go for that kind of storyline.

FirstKhao's acting truly stands out in the Thai BL scene—superior, to say the least. Let’s be honest, many would agree that acting in Thai BLs isn’t always top-notch. While I haven’t watched every single one, I’ve seen a fair amount, enough to say that the acting is often average or, at times, below that, which can really take you out of the experience.

But First and Khao? They’re on a whole different level. I’ve watched all three of their lead dramas—The Eclipse, Only Friends, and their ongoing Heartkillers—and their versatility is simply marvelous. What’s even more impressive is that only one of these dramas (The Eclipse) is school-related. That’s worth mentioning because, let’s face it, around 60% of Thai BLs are school-centric, which often gets monotonous. But First and Khao breathe life into every role, making them a joy to watch.

As someone who avoided their work for no apparent reason , I really really want other people who didn't give a try to their acting and art they present as an artist, please do give it a try because you are missing out as I was, altho I am pretty sure most of you have watcher their series and hopefully are aware.

I just wanna mention one more thing out of all the series I have watched I just assumed OhmNanon are the best actors in thai, bit glad to meet FirstKhao.

They are so good at acting. I am gonna write more about FirstKhao as sandray. Do read it.

Thankyou for your time.

[thrashkink-coven]

Happy Venus day!!! ✴️

Very often I get the question from atheists and sceptics that’s like “what if Lucifer isn’t real? What if he’s just a voice in your head and you’re going crazy? Don’t you ever get nervous that he’s not really there?”

and to be honest it is a fair question, even though it’s usually asked with poor intentions.

My answer to that question would be no, I don’t worry about it, but I’ve definitely thought about it. I think anyone who works with any deities should think about it. Being vigilant and aware of our mental health is one of the most important things to consider as a practitioner. And as someone with close family members who have schizophrenia, I’ve taken the time to do extensive research about hallucinations and dissociative identity disorders. I grew up in a neglectful household and could very well have some mental condition I don’t know about. Considering these things doesn’t scare me, I don’t have any negative stigma towards those with mental health conditions like psychosis. If I truly had DID or something of the sort, I wouldn’t feel betrayed or foolish. I would just know that my brain works somewhat differently and that’s okay. I hate this attitude of “hey are you sure you’re not crazy?” because even if I did have some sort of disorder, I still wouldn’t be crazy. People with disorders are not crazy.

I don’t have hallucinations regularly, but I have experienced them before, so I at least know what warning signs to look out for in my own psychology. For the most part, fantastical experiences or conversations don’t happen in the mundane. I have to put a lot of focus and effort into channeling to have these deities. Lucifer is always with me, but I can’t always see him. If I send him away, he leaves.

In a situation where I discovered that Lucifer really was some kind of dissociative identity or hallucination, it wouldn’t be some life ruining revelation to me. In fact I don’t think it would change all that much. Lucifer’s presence has always been a positive one. He’s never given me paranoid thoughts or encouraged harmful behaviours. If he really was just a voice in my head, we’ll damn, he’s the nicest and wisest voice ever. If it’s really all just me, wow. I’m fucking amazing. How I managed to provide myself with this much guidance and advice is crazy.

and I think that’s the bottom line. Lucifer doesn’t cause me any harm, working with and worshiping him doesn’t bring any negativity into my life, and I he actively encourages me to be healthy and happy. So even if he wasn’t real, I’d still feel comfortable worshiping him. I’d probably still carry on much the same, because he’s only been good to me.

Lucifer is just as much a part of me as any of my spirit guides are. The Lucifer I interact with is a direct reflection of my psychology, my own understandings inform how he appears to me. To converse with him is also to converse with myself.

My work with one of my very first spiritual guides, Archangel Jophiel, was cantered a lot around dissecting and dismembering my scepticism. He really did make me feel crazy, and he forced me to confront my fear of being delusional. If I’m constantly paranoid that none of this is real, every single time I experience something fantastical in my deliberate searching and witchcraft, I would always run away and call myself crazy. At some point I had to accept what I was experiencing and make decisions based on that acceptance.

I just saw something really fucking crazy from Lucifer, I can either spend the rest of my life constantly trying to prove he’s real or fake, or I can just take the experience, decide and keep what’s valuable and leave the rest to speculation.

I say that I’m theistic because my experiences have lead me to believe that these energies really are alive. I do believe that Lucifer exists in reality as an energy and entity, I do believe he’s a real deity and that I’m reaching out to someone other than myself when I work with him. But I don’t know any of this, I just believe so. And I don’t need to know (and I couldn’t know because it’s not provable) because it doesn’t change my everyday reality either way. Living for Lucifer is a philosophy and state of mind. Whether or not the Morning Star hears me, I’ll still praise him, because I just think he’s that awesome. I’ve been lucky enough to get a response, but I cannot prove that to anyone else, and I don’t really care to.

But in ether scenario, I still win. Either I am actually working with him and he loves me and treats me well, or I’ve somehow mastered self deification and have the best case of psychosis ever. Either I’m going on astral journeys with my Gods or I have incredible, like truly phenomenal visualization skills. Either I have a wonderful God constantly looking out for me, or I’m just constantly extremely lucky. Either I have a beautiful altar that my Gods enjoy and appreciate, or I have a beautiful collection of trinkets and treasure that makes me happy every time I play with them. Either way, I’m happier and healthier now than I’ve ever been before.

I appreciate atheistic Luciferians and Satanists because they are proof that the underlying principles and practice still works even if they don’t recognize an actual Lucifer in their gnosis.

Tldr, if you think I’m crazy that’s totally okay. I probably am a little bit crazy. The important part is that I’m not hurting myself or others, not glorifying harmful behaviour or neglecting my mental health. Whether or not Lucifer is real doesn’t matter when I know I’m real.

[shatcey]

Jude's route

First of all!!!! I DO NOT recommend going on this route immediately after Alfons. The atmosphere on these routes is completely the opposite. Ally tries his best to make a joke in any situation to lighten the mood… It's not the light route, but Ally is doing his best to make everything less gloomy. But Jude… is so damn dark. This contrast is so huge that for several chapters I've been asking myself what I'm even doing here. But I believe it won't be so difficult with literally any other route.

Okaaaaay… (claps the hands) Let's go!

I won't say much, so as not to spoil your fun. Again I'm a very kind and generous person. You have to experience that for yourself. I can only say that this is absolutely NOT what I expected.

@.judesmoonbeauty is made a lot of theories and assumptions about this route and I tried to add a bit from myself, but none of them turned out to be true. I've never been so disappointed in myself.

But!

My wishes for this route have mostly come true. I haven't read his chronicles yet, but I think I'll find the rest where… Surprised. Maybe I asked for too little? A note for the future: I can ask for more!

Jude turned out to be completely different from what I expected (his words "perverted masochist", which are canonical in literally every event, appear only in the ending).

Kate turned out to be completely different from what I expected (I admire her and fear her at the same time, very-very much so).

The main theme is completely different from what you might expect from a teaser. Not the moon, guys, it's not the damn moon. Yes, it plays a huge role in Jude's life, but that's not the main topic.

His childhood wasn't as terrible as I thought (at least he didn't live on the streets, but maybe it would have been better if he had lived there. Hmmm).

And I still have question about where he got the medicine for Ellis' epilogue? He don't work in developing medicine. Is his trading company cooperating with a drug manufacturer? I have more questions, but that would be spoilers.

There is no information about Vivi! Like…@.dear-mrs-otome noted that there was a line about loneliness… And there was a pretty big scene with him in the Romantic Blind Love ending… and my imagination ran wild. Butler? Why is it so tempting when I think about Vivi? (Ally, don't look at me like that, you have nothing to worry about). That's all. OR… I'm really inattentive (which is quite possible). But… I don't know when I will have time to re-read Jude's route, maybe Ciele will translate it even earlier… Yes, Vivi appears here and there, but mostly to dispel the rather gloomy atmosphere of this route. But, as usual, he only shows his goofy and caring side.

I'm slightly (not slightly in the slightest) disappointed that there weren't much twin boys. Nica was a bit present, but there was more of him on Roger's route. And NO Ring at all. But… one expression on Nica's face in response to Darius' question and… I like this guy, I need to know more about him. I expect to see Nica in dramatic Mad love ending… his words hint at this very strongly.

And… just a silly joke before I say a few words to people who aren't afraid of spoilers.

In the main part of the story, Kate gets into a very dangerous situation... twice. And… saying Jude's name out loud (or just thinking about him)… will summon him. He's a superhero! (superhero music is playing).

And now my thoughts on the route… with spoilers

Depression

I understand why Jude is depressed. He has no goals in life. Life is practically meaningless. Hatred and violence… he doesn't have anything else. And day after day, he literally does the same thing. No goals, no plans… nothing. He feels that it is impossible to fulfill the promise (I believe that the level of development of engineering at that time was not very helpful). And that promise was the only thing that kept him going, and it's starting to slip away, as well.

I just thought he wasn't the only guy with depression at Crown.

Liam… He doesn't have a purpose in life either. He's just going with the flow.

Elbert… a very vague goal. It can be very depressing if you have no idea how to achieve it, in which direction to move, or where to even start… And Elbert, by definition, is depressed because of how he sees himself.

Ally… as I mentioned earlier… the same… has no purpose in life. But at least he has no desire to die. He just doesn't care.

Harrison, Williams, Roger, Ellis - they have goals. So they're fine. But some of them are very odd… I'm not judging, the goal is the goal. Everything is right if it works for you!

I'm not sure about Vivi… I think we'll see pretty soon.

Kate

I think Jude's Kate has an adrenaline addiction. It just feels that way. She said herself that life has become more interesting since she became a part of the Crown… Her decisions are very daring and putting her in danger… constantly. It's like she's doing it on purpose. She ran into a room full of armed men (to save Jude), decided to search for evidence alone in enemy territory (for Jude), and at the end of a romantic ending… she works undercover in a criminal gang (again to help Jude). She just too obsessed with him or she has adrenaline addiction. Maybe (most likely) both. It's not bad. Just… unusual.

Additional characters

I can't help but mention Gilbert. He's awesome. He's definitely someone Willy would love. Stubborn and full of conviction about what is right and what is wrong. Who is ready to do literally anything to defend what he considers right. He really looks like Gilly-bee, but… he thinks of himself as "white".

And, of course, Theo. A funny guy who has no idea where he should shut up. The whipping boy. I thought Ellis would be such a person for Jude, but they created Theo for that very purpose. I feel sorry for the guy…

Main theme

I think the main idea of this story is...

This is again my free interpretation.

So… Jude doesn't ask or demand that she do this (he's not Roger, I still not get over it). He really doesn't understand why she's doing this. He really wants to know how far she's willing to go. And the story is all about that. How far she would go… to be with him, to gain his trust, his respect, to safe him, to give him a reason to live...

Maybe I'm wrong, and this story is about something else entirely. But that's how I see it. She is ready to follow him to hell no less. It's obsessive love. I'd say it's no less obsessed than the one we saw on Will's route. She accepts him completely. And just follows the same path.

I'm Ally's Kate, and it's a little weird for me to just accept their fate. I would have struggled, tried to find a solution… I would never give up. Perhaps that's why I'll never agree with them, never delve into their stories. I understand that it's just the concept "they just have to have the same craziness to be together." And I think my craziness is too different from that.

Similarities

Some parts of this story made me feel very similar to the routes of Harrison and Alfons. I'm not saying they're the same or story repeats itself. Not at all. But some of the thoughts were so similar that it was impossible to ignore.

I haven't found Jude's exact words, but it's pretty obvious… He constantly pushes her away because she doesn't belong to this dark world. She's too bright… too soft-hearted. It was the same with Harry. He stays away from her, for her own good.

And this one from romantic blind love ending...

Once again… my very free interpretation.

This is so familiar. The meaning he puts in is a little different, but the words are almost the same. I felt the similarity in the main part of the event, but now I can't remember where exactly.

And again… there is nothing similar either in situations or in stories, just the same vibes, mood, intentions. Nothing else.

Oddity

Jude is one of the characters who literally looks at me (one of his sprites). I don't feel that way with many characters. And it's quite unnerving… It's like the very intense gaze that makes you feel uncomfortable. In the real life I pretty much get used to stares and don't feel them anymore… it was totally impossible to not feel it here.

I'm so weird...

And one more thing. I remember that on Will's route or his events, Kate kept asking him why he was laughing. Damn it, girl, he's happy. Why else are people laughing? But on this route, at least at the end of it… the roles have changed. Jude gets very angry when Kate laughs. And it's so... funny.

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🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

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[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

The Holidays In Gotham (Rogues Party)

It's that time of year. I didn't do anything last year but I wanted to get it done this time- at least before New Years. Hope all of you are warm, safe and healthy this year. Personally, I'm hoping for a much happier year with good health all around.

And as a baseline, all the rogues would respect your beliefs and celebrations and partake in them with you.

Tw: Mentions of family abuse/neglect, religion, depression, ableism, mentions of character death

The Riddler

For some reason people assume Jonathan is going to be the scrooge given how much he loves Halloween- no it's Edward. Edward is the biggest Christmas holiday hater. Thanksgiving ends and he's ready to plan some heists because the idea of Christmas cheer is far from sacred! Will he still wear a Santa suit for a Christmas Crime? Yes, because it's thematic and he's still a sucker for a theme.

Much of this comes from his childhood of systematic abuse by his father. As soon as his mother left, the holidays became a distant memory and his father wasted no time in telling the small child that Santa wasn't real and that all of it was a corporate sham. Edward has already had an idea even at such a young age due to how bright he already was- Yet it still stung. What stung more was being surrounded by other children whose families celebrated, further isolating him from his peers.

If he celebrates anything winter-holiday now, it's most likely at the behest of his friends or for the sake of a partner. He'll be grumpy, still, to an extent. Yet he wouldn't deny his loved one if that was something they really enjoyed. He'd make his own gift, a technological marvel suited to their personal interests that he made with his own two hands. Whatever they give him he'll hold at high sentimental value. It means a lot.

Side Note: Show him "A Muppets Christmas Carol" and he WILL get misty at the end.

Penguin

So many memories of holidays where he was isolated away from others due to his appearance. His mother had a soft spot for him, it was true, but even she wouldn't stand up to the expectations held for the Cobblepot name. So alone he would sit in a locked bedroom, eavesdropping onto the grand party being held on the floor below him. Fantasizing about the fun times he would have if only he could be down there.

Nowadays it's one big celebration, all leading up to the culminating New Years Eve bash. Loud music, lots of drinks and a line of suckers he can milk all their money in illicit activities. Girls, gambling and a touch of blackmail never hurt anyone. And he's the star of the show. The ringmaster guiding the events, so to speak! If anyone has anything to say about him being so front and center, he'll shoot them in the goddamn eyes so they don't have to see!

And if there if someone in his life, they are right next to him getting spoiled. They are getting everything on their wish list and more. He'll insist he doesn't need anything but their presence, and still... if they get him a gift, he'll be grateful. Hopefully they like the spotlight he's in! It could easily get overwhelming, however and there's no shame in needing to step out of it for your own sake.

Mad Hatter

Loves this time of year. There's a genuine whimsy and wonder surrounding the holidays. Stories of warmth and love and belonging- Oh he eats that up. As a child, he was never outright abused, but he was very much ignored and neglected emotionally. Christmas would come and he would get a book or a science kit while his parents worked. Instead of it making him bitter, however, he seeks out that kind of warmth of found family.

On that note, if he happens to be in Arkham without his usual companions this time of year, he gets... a little more morose and deeper into his delusions than usual. It's a defense mechanism to try and protect himself from severe depression feeling alone and trapped.

There is a caution to be placed on an s/o for the holidays. Jervis can be a lot in a relationship generally due to his issues. This on top of it, the pressure of him making it perfect and warm and like you're a happy family unit (you are but are you happy ENOUGH)... He can malfunction a bit and go overboard. Anxiety city for the two of you. At least he's not hypnotizing a fake family for the holidays (again), right? Just reassure him. He's going to give you a gift he made himself, hours of work all for you.

Scarecrow

This time of year was one of the few that granny would be warm and almost... almost kind. She was still religious and certainly strict. Yet, she took some of the lessons of Christ being born, of the gifts of the three wise men and giving shelter to those who needed it, to heart. Did it mean more services? Yes. Did it mean the woman was just a fraction more forgiving and pleasant to be around? Jonathan would take it.

Nowadays, while religion is something Jonathan has a complicated relationship with, he does celebrate. The way he celebrates is by cooking and baking until his home is bursting with flavorful scents. Everyone is getting something in the form of food that he absolutely did not lace with fear toxin. The fear toxin laced goodies are for the Mayor. Just don't expect him to put an inflatable Santa anywhere near his property.

He has a huge dislike of what he considers overly bright and gaudy decorations. If his s/o brings anything like that in, you'll see him blink at it for a few moments before going "...what is that?" Otherwise, he'll welcome a bit of "cheer" into his home, and even a bit into his work. As long as they don't mind him trapping them underneath a mistletoe every once in a while.

Music Meister

Clarence has a schedule lined up for several theatrical winter productions. The Nutcracker, a Christmas carol, and there's someone even doing a production of It's a Wonderful Life! This is the perfect thing to do when it gets cold in his opinion. Get into warm but elegant dress clothes, get the best seat in the house, and watch the magic unfold on stage. This was pretty much what he's being doing from the time he was a kid. In comparison to pretty much every other rogue on this list, he's got 0 christmas/winter holiday trauma.

Every once in a blue moon, he'll make sure he's actually in one of these productions as the star. He can play a delightful Scrooge if put on the spot. Of course it needs to be a musical version where there's singing- there's plenty of those about! Then he's giving all of his friends tickets so that they'll appear. And, if no one gave him the role, he'll set up a crime based upon the original stage play, choreographed by him :)

With a partner, he's the one who has a "one gift on christmas eve" rule (because of course he has several for them). That, and matching winter pajamas. Bonus if they're one pieces and incredibly cheesy! He'll have them all warmed up with hot chocolate he made himself to get ready for a movie marathon.

Victor Zsasz

Grew up in a vapid rich family where nothing was ever enough. Accomplishments, gifts, parties, they were all... empty. It wasn't particular to the holidays, really. That was just his life in general. It was what led him to gambling, to small time crookery, to eventually becoming the assassin and serial killer everyone knew and feared loved. Something about the holidays just tended to exacerbate that need, the capitalistic want and greed.

He tends to charge this need by taking a lot more jobs. For some STRANGE reason, the happy holiday cheer just doesn't extend to everyone, does it? Nah, some people are always unhappy, always asking for a hit or a maiming. He's just glad to fulfill these little wishes for everyone! Ho ho ho, call him Sandy Claws! And New Years there's always some party to crash and cause problems until he has a reason to start some violence.

He loves "Home Alone" and thinks he should be allowed to do that but with people who made him bored or upset. Really, it's just creative ways to torture people. He will tell his partner this as they watch it for the third time this season as well as the physical damage each of these stunts would actually cause in detail. Hope you like spooky shit for presents all year long because that's what he loves giving!

Killer Croc

Waylon is... getting back into it now. There was a long time where any of the winter holidays would pass by without phasing him. Just another fucking day of being him, either running from the law or struggling to make it looking the way he does. Yeah, his family celebrated, but he wasn't exactly welcome anywhere but his grandparents home. Then he left and there wasn't anyone he thought would want to celebrate with him.

It wasn't until later when he not only gained real friends among the rogues party but reconnected with his mother that the idea of the holidays started to appeal to him again. Colored string lights outside of a home. Putting up a tree or other decorations inside of a house. Making a family meal and making an event of it, maybe even a potluck with all his friends.

If he has a partner whose been doing the holidays their whole life, he's going to follow their lead. Support their idea of what they personally celebrate while also incorporating his own new traditions. Maybe at some point they can go back to his home for the holidays? Have something with his family that he didn't get to have when he was younger.

Harley Quinn

Harley grew up in a Jewish household with her well-meaning but overbearing and psychologically abusive parents. She celebrated every passing year, the whole thing treated as yet another event to rein in her personality and spirit that was so disapproved of. She was not to be part of the planning. Gifts were only practical and usually consisted of neutral tones. At some point she wasn't even allowed chocolate coins because they would make her fat (as so decreed by her mother).

There was a time period between meeting Joker and The Breakup where she tried to erase all of that. It was easier than processing the emotional turmoil while also dealing with the current abusive and toxic relationship at hand. After the breakup, she went back to her roots, trying to find the blend of herself and her background. So now she celebrates Hanukkah her way. She picks passages of the Torah she resonates with to read off her phone as she lights the menorah. She'll even try her hand at fried latkes- They may not be the best but... they still taste good!

With a partner in the mix, it's just one more person to celebrate with! She'll really enjoy finding a gift to blow their socks off to open that first night. If they don't know about Hanukkah, she'll guide them through all of it! If they celebrate something else, she'll do the work to combine the two. Whatever it takes, she's going to have a fun time making it a fun time.

Poison Ivy

Her holidays used to be filled with gifts of makeup, body wash and frilly feminine clothing when all she'd wanted was children's chemistry sets and botanical supplies. It was always her Aunt Gigi that would get her exactly what she wanted. It left a bittersweet impression of the season on Pamela, even before her transformation. Then Aunt Gigi came out (as herself), was kicked out, and yet took Pamela in when she was at her sickest, all in the cold season.

Now her seasons are mostly celebrated with Harleen, observing the nights of Hanukkah. For her, she'd never had a specific religious attachment to any of it, so she weaves through it all with attachment to the people rather than the event itself. She always makes sure to have dinner with her Aunt Gigi at least once during the holidays. She's the only family she considers as "hers" at this point.

In respect to a partner, she will be hyper-vigilant about getting them something they actually want for the holiday. It won't be something she mentions, but she distinctly remembers opening up gifts, feeling that excitement- for it to fall to the pit of your stomach. Not for her love. If nothing else, she'll get them something she knows they'll enjoy like a treat while cultivating a plant or flower for them.

Two-Face

For some reason, the holidays make Harv tense. Perhaps it's a psychological thing Harvey has had lying in wait inside his mind. Maybe it's something Harv came up with on his own. Whatever it is, it makes him snippy while Harvey just wants to get through the holidays without killing someone. There's a large cognitive dissonance that ruptures through not only them, but on their "workers" as well.

There are not decorations and if there are decorations, they better not have some jolly fat fuck saying "ho-ho-ho" at Two-Face or he's going to actually flip a goddamn table. The mirrored-symmetrical rule applies to anything. Or rather... There's a wreath on the door that's been cut in half. One side for cheer, the other for... Not. Apparently Harv had done it in a rage after a bad deal.

A person seeing them in the middle of that can disrupt the balance... With Harv begrudgingly celebrating if they really can't miss it. If not, sorry Harvey, just be glad no one is dying. They may be able to at least ease the rage behind it- Harv having the fractured memories of when Pops was still around. The anger around ruined events and having their mother tossed into the snow with a black eye. It's something if actually talked about, he might be able to move past it.

Black Mask

The holiday season for Roman was much like most of his interactions with family- Showy, expensive and hollow. More presents than he could count, almost all of them expendable and easily forgotten within ten minutes of playing with them. Gifts from "friends of the family" he'd never even met so they could try and curry favor with the Sionis empire. All of it feeding further into his role as the heir apparent. It never really struck him until the fall out of everything.

Now he typically celebrates with a cigar and a bourbon, staring out into the icy landscape of Gotham. No one seems to want to work this time of year and he can't help but utter a "bah, humbug" under his breath when people complain. If people don't want something from you, they want to be lazy. If anyone on this list needed a ghostly visit, it would probably be Roman if we're being honest. He's not expecting shit from anyone otherwise.

Things will vastly shift if he gets a partner that celebrates. He's not quite in the spirit of things as one may hope, but he'll at least put the effort in. If nothing else, he'll spoil the shit out of his s/o with a gift or two. Something very nice and probably useless. But fuck practical- it's a gift. Should be pretty, he says.

Mr. Freeze

His memories of his childhood at this time are rather... unremarkable. They were neither good nor bad. His family was loving, they gave him things he wanted along with siblings. Nothing in particular stands out. What he remembers was his first New Years Day with Nora, the heat barely working and the two of them huddled under a blanket with cups of coffee. Neither of them religious or seeing the need for a gift giving holiday when they were barely making it by. Yet they were still some of his best memories.

This time of year is spent depending upon if Nora is still in cryo-stasis. If she is, he's working. Constantly working- Maybe this year he'll get it all done before things heat up outside and there's more stress on her already fragile casing. He doesn't recognize holidays or even dates anymore. If Nora has passed, he will either be alone in a dark room still not paying attention to dates or sitting at a party he's been invited to, cup in hand staring into the distance. Hopefully there is a companion animal here.

If another person is in the mix he's going to be SO awkward about it. Do they... do things for this? Are they like him about it? He will partake in whatever they wish for him to do. Just don't expect him to do it well.

Ra's Al Ghul

Doesn't celebrate anything specific lol. He's been around so long and in so many different places, he's been part of many types of rituals and events. Something about the cold when everything has died for the season makes people want to come together. Many cultures and religions have a variation of a winter solstice celebration which then extends to a new calendar year celebration. He's seen it all before. Nothing is particularly inventive at this point.

He'll spend this time as he would any other day. Nothing special about it.

If he had a partner that celebrated a holiday in this time, he would ultimately respect them. He would allow them the space to decorate and do what they liked, but he wouldn't add to much of it himself. If he gets a gift, he will reciprocate. Yet, it doesn't seem to be as big of a deal for him. As if it's all just passing by his eyes.

Bane

Christmas and other holidays were a mere concept to Bane. He would see other prisoners trying to celebrate in their cells. Watch it get torn down by guards or other inmates out of rage and anger. Sometimes he would hear stories, likely twisted versions of parables long since told at times such at this. He never received a present or much of a kind word in this time over any other time. One time someone even told him about snow, although as a child he didn't believe it until he learned the scientific processes behind it.

In truth as an adult, he was curious about being part of events like this. He'd first experienced snow in Gotham, a snowflake falling on his open hand- and he understood a want to celebrate it. The... feeling it gave him. He doesn't know the first thing about it. Yes, he does the research so logically he's aware. That's different from a feeling of knowing it naturally, to him.

No matter how his s/o may partake, he wants to be part of that. It's likely already more than he's done in most of his years of living. Is it truly a joyous time for them? Do they exchange gifts? Do they fast- he will fast with them! There's something about that sharing and blending of cultures that makes him feel... welcome in your life.

[lostintransist]

You’re writing is amazing you’re amazing and just all the love my goodness I can’t get enough 💕

Oh my goodness! Thank you! I know sometimes (I feel at least about myself) that it reads as just a casual thanks! as if you were passing on the street but I need you to know that this is like caught me in the side of the neck with feels and I will gush about you to my spouse and my soul mate (I am supremely lucky they aren't the same person).

Now I don't know if you are a fan of König (or reading Chiseled Heart) but this has been rattling around my brain like those cans people use to tie to the bumpers of cars for people who got married so I want to share becase we are a long way from it showing up in the fic.

*I like to give people words when they stop by. I treat it the same way sevice people come to my house to fix things. "You want a snack? I got snacks."

I've only had one guy take a snack.

I keep offering.

König freezes, hand on the doorknob, as your voice drifts in from the porch’s open window.

“König? I really like him.”

Your words are full of soft meaning that slaps at him; beating against his skin like the hands of the children who would laugh and pinch him. Even when he was small he had been too big.

“What about him though?” It’s your friend, Tori, “We haven’t seen his face and yes he is built but he doesn’t say much.”

“He seems to treat you well. I guess what we are saying is that we are concerned. He is nothing like your usual type and I want to be sure this isn’t a rebound.” That is Amara, Tori’s girlfriend.

His hand is starting to cramp around the round knob. He relaxes his hold; nothing in life was built with him in mind. König knows he should move, leave, make his presence known, something. The deepest parts of him, those bits hidden that would flourish if only a spare drop of love could find its way down, made him stay silent and still. No one else had been in the house when he came in to use the restroom. The openness of the floorplan would alert him to anyone entering the front door. And so, he stayed.

An annoyed huff leaves your mouth as you must shift in your chair, cloth shifting against wood. He can imagine you, arms folded tight as you force your shoulders down.

“He is kind, and not only to me. Mara, I have seen him pay for a stranger’s tank of gas when we stopped once. I hopped out to use the bathroom. There was a line so I happened to glance outside and see him getting hugged by a sobbing man with his hand still pressing something to the machine. The two receipts for gas confirmed what happened. He buys gift cards every time he goes to the grocery store and often turns around and hands them to moms in line behind him.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath before continuing.

“My usual type is pretty. But pretty men only bring pain. König isn’t pretty.”

König had been stabbed several times, your words punched him with the same force. He shifted his weight to move away, deepest soul shriveling further at the imaginings of your harsh words.

“Have you ever had someone become beautiful before your eyes?”

Your friends must nod or respond in some way he can’t see because you go on.

“He is striking. König’s face is my favorite thing to look at because every time I look he has become more beautiful to me. There is a scar here,” you must be pointing somewhere on your face. Lord knows how many scars he has mapping the landscape of his. It is one of the reasons that he wears a mask even now. “That whites out when he smiles big.”

Something unfurls in his chest, a desert plant tasting rain.

Tori again, “But this isn’t a rebound?”

“I don’t see how it can be? He doesn’t know I like him this much. Honestly, I would be happy being his friend. If he got a girlfriend I would sob myself to sleep for a few weeks as I make friends with her,” you sniff and clear your throat.

“Ah, hun,” Amara croons at you, “You’ve got it bad for him.”

The watery laugh you let out trails König as he slips away to the front door and away from the private conversation.

“God, I’ve got it so bad for him.” The tears in your voice water his broken parts.

Divider

[cecilysass]

Beacon (2/6)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic and my poangpal @libbytxf

“And where did you say you saw this?” Scully is distracted, briskly unpacking her suit jackets, quickly pivoting between the suitcase on her bed to the modest closet.

“In the hall,” Mulder says impatiently. “Outside the room, like I said. Come on, Scully,” he urges. “Let’s go sit out there for a while and wait. Let’s see if she comes back.”

Scully gives him a look. “Mulder,” she says, like she’s trying to be patient, “we made an eight hour drive today. It’s seven-thirty, and we haven’t eaten. I propose we find some dinner and get some sleep. Ghosts can wait until morning.”

Mulder resists an urge to groan. “I take it you don’t believe me.”

“That you saw a ghost?” Scully widens her eyes in flat disbelief, folding one of the previously discussed sweaters. “Of course I don’t. I think you probably saw another guest going into her room, and you’re just … overtired from the drive.”

“Overtired? I’m not a five year old, Scully,” Mulder says, irritated. “She spoke directly to me. I very clearly observed her. I know what I saw.”

“She spoke to you?” Scully looks up in mild interest, then begins putting folded items in dresser drawers. “What did she say?”

He gnaws on his lip, feeling strangely self-conscious. “Uh, something about, ‘Come to me… my love,’” he mumbles.

Scully raises her eyebrows in amusement. “Pretty intimate, Mulder,” she says, folding another shirt. “Do you know this ghost?”

“It doesn’t sound like something a random living guest would just … say to a stranger, does it?”

She shrugs with a tiny smile. “Maybe the guest found you attractive. Maybe some nice lady was inviting you into her room.”

He feels the tips of his ears growing very warm, but smiles in an attempt to appear unruffled. “Well, admittedly it’s been a while, but I'm pretty sure you scare people off when you start talking about love right out of the gate.”

She shuts the dresser drawer and turns around to face him, folding her arms. “So is what you saw consistent with what this ghost is said to be like, Mulder? From the reports and the stories?”

He shifts positions uncomfortably. The truth is that he doesn’t know. He is much less informed than usual about the details of this case. He’d seized on this impulsively, based on Scully’s state of mind, and he didn’t take the time to do his normal deep dive into research beyond what was in the file. He didn't really read anything about the history of the inn.

“I’m not sure,” Mulder says. “I’m a little light on details, like I said, until we talk to Duncan.”

She fixes him with a searching look. “All right. Then let’s wait and talk to him,” she says.

Mulder huffs. “May I remind you that what we do know about this case is that people who reported seeing this ghost were dead from heart failure within the week?”

He’d think maybe she would want to check him out as his doctor at the very least—express some concern for his well-being—but she’s not even looking his way now. He feels petulant, even though he knows that Scully simply doesn’t believe in ghosts who can cause hearts to stop. That’s who Scully is.

“Yes, and speaking of, I had a thought about that,” she says, pulling her shoes out of the suitcase. “I was going to take some samples of the piles of renovation materials outside and send them to a lab. I was wondering if maybe some of the building materials being used might be aggravating pre-existing heart conditions in some guests.”

“Really?” Mulder thinks this over. “So… guests stay here, they inhale some dust or something, and it causes a heart attack?”

“Only if they had some unknown underlying cardiac issues already,” Scully says. “So it wouldn’t be that common—it would only affect a select few. This isn’t completely unknown in the literature. It seems like a possibility worth looking into, anyway.”

“Hmm,” agrees Mulder. “Yes. If the timing works out. If the renovations were happening at the same time as the deaths.”

“That’s the kind of thing we’re here to investigate, right?” Scully says with a wry smile. “Why they put the I in FBI and all that?”

She’s moving briskly back and forth from her suitcase, all energy, all purpose. And it hits him: he didn’t notice it before in his excitement over seeing the ghost, but Scully is in a much better mood. She’s practically bustling. A little flirty, a little argumentative, a spring in her step, a theory on the tip of her tongue.

The case has her, he thinks. Being in the field has her. He knew this was a good idea, even if it has already put him in the crosshairs of a murderous ghost.

“The toxic dust wouldn’t explain the ghost sightings,” he points out to her, in part because it’s true and in part because he craves her engagement again.

“No,” she admits, “it wouldn’t. But we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to learn anything else.” She points a firm finger towards him. “No ghost hunting tonight, Mulder.”

“Fine,” he acquiesces, raising his hands in surrender. “Fine.”

He sees her pull what certainly looks like some lacy scraps of underwear out of the suitcase. His eyes track hungrily as she places them in the drawer, and then he quickly looks away so she doesn’t notice him watching.

There is a moment’s pause. He quietly clears his throat.

“What are we doing for dinner?” he asks.

“Banoy said there was pizza delivery.” She looks at him hopefully, shutting the drawer. “Pizza in your room in 30 minutes?”

“It’s a date,” he says lightly. ***

They eat the pizza sitting side by side on his bed, looking out the large window into the black Vermont woods. Lamplight outside bounces off the falling snowflakes, each one flickering and sputtering against the dark canvas of the night. Mulder tells her a ghost story he remembers from the Vineyard, one about a whaling captain’s widow. She listens and rolls her eyes in the right places.

He walks her back to her door—just to be safe. She gives him a strange, bemused look as he does. Maybe because it’s exactly a three step walk.

That night he dreams of Scully with a flashlight in a field on a snowy night, Scully cracking jokes with flushed cheeks in the light of the moon, Scully calling out his name with snowflakes all around her. “Come with me, Mulder. How I miss you.” ***

“So you’re here to learn about our ghost,” Banoy says eagerly, pouring coffee at the stone counter. “All the way from Washington. All the way from the F.B.I..”

In the morning they meet Duncan and Banoy in the inn’s large and airy country kitchen. There is a breakfast nook with a round table and a cushioned bench seat surrounded by windows. Scully gazes admiringly at her surroundings as she sits down. Some of her best memories are of time spent in comfortable, cheerful kitchens like this. She thinks of cooking for the holidays in her grandmother’s large kitchen in California with all her female family members: mother, aunts, grandmother, cousin. Sister.

This kitchen is filled with bright white winter sunshine, the kind of light that has a pure, clear quality, like it was refracted through ice. She glances at Mulder’s face as he slides in next to her on the bench. His expression is serious, and the diffuse light gives him an ethereal look.

“I have lots of questions, as a matter of fact,” Mulder says.

“But we’re actually here to investigate the three deaths,” Scully corrects Banoy, trying to steer the conversation on track. Actual human deaths, not ghost stories. “Three deaths in six months, correct?”

“Yes,” Duncan says sadly, setting a platter of pastry in front of them on the table. “And it’s never happened like this before, has it, Banoy? I can’t understand it. That’s why I called you.”

“Maybe it’s not connected,” Banoy says, setting their coffee down on the table. “I have always said that. Maybe the deaths and the ghost are just a coincidence.”

“I’d like to talk through the deaths,” Scully says. “When did the first—”

“I saw her,” Mulder interrupts her, leaning urgently towards Duncan. “Last night, almost as soon as we arrived. Is that common? Do all guests see her?”

“Saw …?”

“The ghost,” Mulder says eagerly.

Well, Scully thinks with some irritation, there goes our opportunity to cling to the illusion of professionalism.

“Did you?” Duncan says, visibly taken aback.

Banoy smiles sympathetically and leans over to fluff Mulder’s hair. “Oh, you sweet boy.”

Scully frowns, failing to understand this reaction.

“What does that mean?” Mulder says, his eyes darting between the two men, apparently equally bewildered.

“Nobody’s explained about our Hero? Who she visits?”

“No,” Mulder says. “All we know is that she’s allegedly visited some people who later died of cardiac arrest.”

“No, no,” Duncan says, taking off his glasses to wipe them on his shirt. “She has been appearing for years. Decades. Long before the heart failures.”

“Hero is her name?”

“It’s what she called herself,” Duncan says. “Her real name was a mouthful, Sophronia Younge, a daughter of one of the town’s founders. The family built the original house we’re in, although it was expanded in the later nineteenth century to its current size and layout, of course.”

“And Hero has appeared to others?” Mulder asks, a crease deepening between his eyes.

“Well, not just to anyone…” Banoy says, winking at Mulder.

“By legend, she only appears to the lovelorn,” Duncan says. “Only those who hold deep and abiding love, like Hero did in life herself. You’re sure you haven’t heard this? It’s a reasonably famous local story.”

Scully’s gaze had been shifting out the window, to study the bird’s eye view of the town’s streets, but now her head swivels and her eyes lock on Mulder. She finds herself very curious to see his reaction.

“No, I had not,” Mulder says, raising his eyebrows. He straightens his posture in the seat, shifting uncomfortably. “But I’m a single guy, so she’s obviously wrong in this case.”

“Is she?” Banoy says.

“I’ve never heard of her being wrong,” Duncan says, amused.

“It’s not about being single,” Banoy says. “Single people can have longing in their heart. No lucky lady you pine for, Agent Mulder? Or man?”

“Sorry,” Mulder says with a tight smile. “I’m going to prove a pretty disappointing romantic hero.”

He picks up a piece of pastry and shifts his full attention to taking a bite.

Feeling inexplicably discomfited herself, Scully lets her eyes wander back to the window. The town’s streets are visible down the hill, and she can see two children marching down the road, dragging toboggans across the newly fallen snow. She stares at them like they are suddenly very interesting.

She knows Mulder has dated women before, and she even saw him interact once with an old paramour. But it’s hard for her to imagine him pining. It’s hard to imagine him giving that much thought to anything besides work, honestly. She can’t imagine him thinking about anything besides the Truth, besides some esoteric case he’s read about, about some work-related puzzle.

She tries to imagine him sitting at his desk thinking about a romantic partner with those kind of feelings. Or waiting in his apartment, sitting on his couch eager to see someone, eager for someone to come over.

The idea of him wanting someone—of having some walled-up secret desire—well, it unsettles her. It makes her ache to think of it, something so human and vulnerable inside of him that he’s intentionally holding back. Probably it’s because she isn’t used to thinking of him as an ordinary man, she tells herself.

Being so close to the windows gives her a little chill, makes goosebumps rise. She rubs her arms to warm them.

“Of course now you should be careful,” adds Duncan, his tone growing serious. “It used to be that seeing Hero was just fun, just local color. But it’s become so dangerous.”

“How’s your cardiac health, Agent Mulder?” queries Banoy.

“What do you mean?��� Scully says, her attention now fully engaged.

“That’s exactly why I called you,” Duncan says. “Because lately people have … perished after seeing her. At least some people.”

“You should tell us all you know,” Scully insists.

“Starting with Hero?”

“Yes,” Scully says, making quick affirmative eye contact with Mulder, who looks stunned. “Starting with Hero.” ***

Her name wasn’t Hero. Her name was Sophronia, from the Greek for wisdom. Her father was a scholar, a classicist like all good 18th century educated men. He must have been some sort of eccentric to end up in Vermont, which was the frontier back then, but he was well-to-do enough to get some land and farm and start the town. At one point, Duncan tells them, their house—this inn—was the biggest, most impressive in the region.

Duncan recounts this with the precision and storytelling flair of an amateur historian, pausing to wipe his glasses with care.

“This is where the story becomes more local legend and less history,” he says. “Sophronia had a lover, a young man. But legend holds that her father disapproved, and so Sophronia had no choice but to meet her lover secretly. When she wrote him letters, she called herself ‘Hero’ and her lover ‘Leander.’ You know. Like the famous lovers in mythology who couldn’t be together.”

“I don’t recall that myth, as a matter of fact,” Scully says. She glances at Mulder, who is not asking the many questions he’d initially claimed to have. He’s listening, but his face is stone.

“Oh, it’s a tragic one,” Banoy says. “The ancient Greek lady Hero lives in a tower on an island, and her beloved Leander swims across the sea at midnight to meet her. She puts a beacon light in the window so he can find his way. But one night the light goes out, poof, and Leander is lost in the stormy sea. Hero is wracked with grief and throws herself out the window to join him in a watery grave soon after.”

“A beacon light,” Mulder says, speaking for the first time in a while. “Like the name of the inn?”

Duncan shrugs with a smile. “The drama of this story has been good business for us,” he says. His expression grows serious. “Until the deaths, that is.”

“So what happened?” Scully wonders. She gestures to the town and snowy Vermont landscape outside the window. “There’s no stormy sea here.”

“Well,” Duncan says, “somehow Sophronia’s father found out about her carrying on with her own personal Leander, and he kicked her out. Sometimes you hear he kicked her out in a snowstorm, but more often, it’s mild weather, which makes more sense given what happens next.”

“Just tell them the story,” Banoy urges with an eyeroll. “You say I’m the dramatic one.”

“The following morning, the two of them are found, Sophronia and her lover—Hero and Leander—drowned in the center of town. Soaking wet and completely dead, caught tragically in one another’s arms.”

“When you tasted the water saturating her dress,” Banoy says theatrically, “it was salty, even though we are seventy miles from the sea.”

There’s a pause, as though Duncan and Banoy are waiting for their tale to be fully appreciated by their audience. Scully clears her throat impatiently.

“A compelling story,” she says, “but what about the ghost?”

“Oh, well, ever since, people have occasionally seen Hero in the inn,” Duncan says. “Sophronia, really, although we always refer to her as Hero. She traditionally appears to people in love, and she speaks to them like they’re her Leander. It was a common ghost story, growing up here in Hellespont. In those days, members of the old family still lived in this house.”

“You’re from Hellespont originally?” Scully asks.

“Yes, I’m a local,” Duncan says. He looks around the kitchen with a look of wonder on his face. “I grew up adoring this house from afar. Used to sit on my bike outside and stare at it as a kid, make up fantasies about it. Eight years ago, Banoy and I were living in California, and I heard this place was up for sale. By that time, I had the money we didn’t have when I was a kid. I couldn’t resist coming back to make it ours.”

“We couldn’t resist,” Banoy adds softly. “A historic inn in Vermont? Please, it’s like living in White Christmas.” He smiles adoringly at Duncan. “With my very own Bing Crosby.”

Duncan smiles back at Banoy and reaches out to take his hand. Scully feels a pang of something that she worries might be envy.

“At first, some members of the Younge family—the descendants—were somewhat … hostile to us moving in,” Duncan says. “You know, years of the original family owning the place… and then a kid from a nobody family and his gay Filipino lover move in to make a bed and breakfast. Not everyone’s favorite thing. But … I think they’ve warmed up to us now. Don’t you, Banoy?”

Banoy smiles thinly and shrugs. Scully makes a mental note to follow up on that—local resentment of current inn owners. “Tell us about the deaths,” she says.

“The first was maybe six months ago,” Duncan says. “Right, Banoy? The beginning of summer. June. That first one was Austin Spantikow, a young man, in his twenties, vacationing with a girl he was looking to impress.”

“They started talking about seeing Hero at breakfast the first day. We teased them about his feelings,” Banoy says regretfully. “We thought it was cute.”

“Two days later we called for an ambulance, but it was too late,” Duncan says. “He was so young. No previously known heart problems. But if it had just been that one incident, we wouldn’t have thought anything about it. We definitely wouldn’t have thought Hero and his death were related.”

“I’m still not sure Hero and the deaths are related,” Banoy sniffs. “I’ve said it a thousand times. The other two people who died didn’t mention seeing her.”

“Mr. Knight, Jim, a guest in his fifties, staying here on a fishing trip to give his wife some space. Elena Denney, thirtysomething, who was talking to someone online the whole time she was here for a girls’ weekend,” Duncan continues. “Both of them dead within a few days – almost exactly the same situation as Mr. Spantikow. No prior heart conditions, found in their beds already unconscious by our staff.”

“Has anyone else mentioned seeing Hero?” Mulder says.

“A local couple, Gary and Pam Kromkowski, stayed here for a romantic night at Halloween,” Duncan says. “They claimed they saw her, too, and they left with no incident. But … Gary proposed that night, and I wondered if saying they saw the ghost just made for a good engagement story.”

Scully nods, making a mental note of that.

“Did any of the victims report seeing anything else unusual? Besides the ghost?” Scully asks. “Anything else that you might say would qualify as a hallucination?”

Duncan and Banoy look at one another, squinting in thought. “No,” Duncan says. “I can’t remember anything like that.”

“Me neither,” Banoy agrees. “And Mr. Knight and Ms. Denny, we don’t know for sure that they saw the ghost.”

Duncan has still been holding Banoy’s hand, and Scully sees him squeeze it. “It’s been upsetting, of course,” he says. “We love this place. We don’t want anything like this associated with it.” Banoy places his hand on Duncan’s forearm comfortingly.

“Please forgive me for asking such a potentially personal question,” Mulder says suddenly, his face very serious, “but have you seen Hero?”

There’s a pause as the two men look at one another again. “No,” Banoy says mournfully. “And we don’t know why.” Duncan shakes his head.

“Maybe she’s homophobic,” Duncan suggests with a shrug.

“Bigoted 18th century bitch,” Banoy adds wryly.

“I have another theory, too,” Duncan says. “I personally believe she doesn’t appear to people who are happily partnered, reciprocally in love. I think she appears to people who are yearning. You know. Looking across the water for the beacon.”

“Unrequited,” Banoy agrees with a judicious nod.

Mulder nods distractedly. Then, unexpectedly, he stands up.

“Mulder…?” Scully begins.

Without warning, he spins on his heel and walks out of the kitchen. Scully and the two men sit behind staring blankly after him.

“Oh no,” Banoy says in a hushed voice. “Did we… strike a nerve?”

Duncan turns to Banoy. “God, what if he had a recent break-up or something?”

“We’re over here practically saying he’s unloved,” Banoy says, shaking his head.

“I apologize.” Duncan turns to Scully. “I sometimes say too much.”

“No, no,” Scully says inadequately, “he doesn’t … no. No recent break-up.”

“He just seemed upset,” Banoy says.

Scully suddenly feels a bubble of frustration well up inside of her. How typical, for Mulder to be upset for reasons she doesn’t entirely understand, by a ghost story, of all things. No doubt there’s more to this story she didn’t know in advance that has caused him only to rush off to some unknown location.

“It’s just how he is,” she explains. “He’s … an unusual man.” Her voice sounds more exasperated than she expects.

“Hmm,” Banoy says, nodding at her appraisingly.

Swallowing back her annoyance, she makes her apologies and goes to search for Mulder.

She can’t think of where he could have possibly gone, and she has a well-earned suspicion he might have gone off investigating on his own, possibly seeking out his precious ghost.

But she rounds the corner from the kitchen to find him standing in the living room, staring at the open door that leads to the staircase, his expression frozen.

“Mulder?” she says.

He doesn’t move or respond, like he’s been hypnotized.

“Mulder.”

He startles, swiveling to face her suddenly. His face is ashen.

“Hey,” she says in concern, walking to his side. “Are you okay? Did you see something?”

He turns to look back at the staircase, and her gaze follows his. There’s absolutely nothing to see. Just empty wooden stairs, old-fashioned wallpaper, a well-worn hand rail. It’s the same staircase they came uneventfully downstairs on this morning.

“What’s wrong with you, Mulder?” she asks him.

He’s still staring at the empty stairs, his face expressionless. “Uh, nothing,” he says. “I thought I saw something. Probably just my mind playing tricks.”

“Something like before? What you thought was ….?”

“Maybe,” he says. He scratches the back of his neck. His eyes and mouth show no sign of his emotion.

Scully peers at the stairs again, seeing nothing but the most commonplace details. “Maybe? You’re not sure?”

“I don’t know,” he says suddenly. “Maybe.” He shrugs violently. “The truth is … having heard what Duncan said, I don’t know about before either. Maybe you were right.”

Scully blinks, somewhat taken aback.

“I guess it is possible … I misunderstood what I saw,” he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Maybe I did just see another guest and I somehow just misinterpreted.”

“You misinterpreted,” she repeats incredulously. “You were so confident earlier.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking away awkwardly. “But … well…”

He doesn’t finish, but in a bolt of certainty she realizes what this change of heart is about.

He believes Duncan’s tale. And he really doesn’t like what being able to see Hero’s ghost reveals about him. To him, it uncovers something private. Something he’d preferred others not know, not even his partner.

This idea shocks Scully into complete silence. Her mind races furiously as she tries to process this, the possibility that Mulder actually could be harboring some kind of secret feelings of love. Which would mean Mulder could be actually seeing someone. She remembers in the car earlier when he said he had a hot date for Christmas. She’d taken it as a self-deprecating joke, but why did she assume that? Why wouldn’t he have a hot date for Christmas? He’s single, good-looking, capable of wit and charm.

And apparently … capable of deep and abiding love. According to a ghost, anyway.

Maybe it’s only me who lives outside the boundaries of ordinary human life.

“Anyway,” Mulder says, apparently eager to change the subject. “I was thinking maybe we should do some research this morning, then meet up later and check in. What do you think?”

“Okay,” she says, trying to match his businesslike, conversational tone. “I should go to the medical examiner and check into their records on the victims.”

“Yeah,” agrees Mulder. “I was going to check out the town’s historical archives. See if I can look further into the inn’s history.”

“All right,” she says, falsely cheerful. He still isn’t meeting her eyes. “Should we meet back here for lunch? One?”

“Sure,” he says. “I’m… going to go upstairs and put on a sweater before I go.” His eyes rise to the stairs again, and he looks hesitant.

“Me, too,” she says, after a beat.

He doesn’t respond or look at her, but walks up the stairs decisively. Scully, left standing by herself in the living room, is suddenly aware of being entirely alone.

Maybe that’s what a ghost is, really, she thinks, looking around the inn’s living room lobby slowly. An absence. A form given by our minds, by our subconsciousness, to what is simply a lack of presence. Isn’t that the tragedy of the dead, after all? The negative space left by what we once cherished. It’s the most cruel that nothing can be.

But the dead are not really nothing, she reminds herself. They’re merely unseen. And what’s unseen isn't necessarily what’s unreal. That’s precisely what faith is, belief in the God of things seen and unseen, like the familiar words of the Nicene Creed say. Just because you don’t see someone with your physical eyes doesn’t mean they’re truly gone. Just because you’re looking at a lump of flesh in an autopsy bay doesn’t mean you’re seeing anything real or meaningful about that person.

This has been something she’s been holding on to as of late. Since Melissa, since she came back to the church.

She stands there a moment, hyperaware of absence around her. The dead, the unborn, the lost, the unrealized. In her imagination all of the absence in her life seems to be congealing in the air, growing thick and oppressive, making breathing impossible, choking the life out of her.

She shakes her head, impatient with herself. This is silly. There’s work to do. After a moment she follows Mulder upstairs to get ready to go. ***

[frameconfessions]

I used to be obsessed with this game 4 years ago or so and wanna get back into it but can't find it in me to do it.. sigh it's still my favorite sci-fi world but now I don't know half the characters

.

[itsseriouslyridiculous]

I really hate how my physical body looks so so so much. unfortunately there isn't much I can do about it.

[acepalindrome]

I’m generally pretty good at accepting that there are many things some people might like in fiction that I don’t, but I cannot wrap my mind around people writing aus where a certain demographic of people are systematically denied rights. I see it most often with ABO stuff or little/caregiver stuff, and it’s always like people are biologically born a certain way and get treated like second class citizens. Why do you want this. Like what is anyone getting out of writing this. I mean, this is just real life how people with disabilities are treated, and if you wanted to explore that, then you could just write about disabled people? Why are you creating this whole world where there’s a new group of people who aren’t allowed to have jobs or own property or whatever. What is the point.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent game related things .. hrmm...