#and this is why he had such a reputation of being unreliable

[sunnymoon-sunshine]

KICKS IN THE DOOR

Okay, so what if Bluestar’s prophecy was outright and blatantly wrong? What if it was a complete misreading of the sign?

Take Goosefeather’s Curse out of the equation. Bluepaw’s strange encounter with the fox and the fire could probably have been interpreted in many different ways.

She was separated by a predator’s jaws - she was SAVED - by a burning branch. What if her prophecy always meant that she would be saved from danger by fire, instead?

Bluestar was never meant to be fire. She was the ferocious mother of ThunderClan, its leader and queen. But ever since she was but an apprentice, StarClan had always known that fire would save her - and her beloved clan - from a danger that lurked in their very forest. Fire would save her. Fire would save everyone.

Perhaps, maybe, Goosefeather just couldn’t interpret it correctly because he hadn’t had the pieces to.

[mommyclaws]

if not already done, what's Ravenpaw's reaction to Tigerclaw being the new kittypet's mentor?

love your art btw!

Thank youuu! I don’t have the energy to finish this but the wips i had get the point across

Shortly after the sunningrocks battle, Ravenpaw requests to become a medic apprentice. He saw how Spottedleaf stood up for him and that Tigerclaw obeys her, it felt like his only hope for protection. Since Tigerclaw just lost his apprentice after fighting so bravely, Bluestar feels the need to reward him by giving him a new one as soon as possible- aka, Firepaw.

Fire and Raven are on good terms. Firepaw’s blind eagerness to impress and Tigerclaw’s rough, violent training often leave him in the medicine den with mild injuries, where Ravenpaw gets lots of medical practice caring for him. He’s intelligent, kind, and more welcoming than the other apprentices, and Firepaw appreciates it. Though he can’t help but wonder why he seems so jumpy around him…

Ravenpaw is terrified and guilty. He sees how much Fire looks up to his mentor but he’s too scared for his safety to say anything. The rest of the clan has grown a generally negative opinion of him, because how they see it, Ravenpaw experienced a single battle and then became this paranoid, jumpy mess. He looks cowardly, like he was running away from life as a warrior. Tigerclaw has threatened him and now his tarnished reputation makes him seem unreliable. No one truly understands his truama- except for Spottedleaf. She and Tigerclaw have a bit of history in this au (read here if interested!), so even if she doesn’t know what happened to Redtail, she knows that Tigerclaw is turning out like his own mentor and tries to keep a careful eye on his apprentices, hoping she can keep them on the right path. Spottedleaf can see how terrified Ravenpaw is of him, and even without an omen from Starclan, she accepted Ravenpaw as her apprentice to protect him.

[nihilityuniverse]

𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ 𝗦𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿 ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇʏᴠᴀᴛ 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗕𝗼𝘀𝘀.

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MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

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Story inspired by Acheron's Lore, Power, and Personality...

ENG is not my First language

I do not own Genshin Impact or any of the pictures used.

Do NOT Repost

Story also available on WattPad: Chapter 0 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

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Chapter 0 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

𝐀 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐨

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Eight members of the Harbingers had gathered in the palace-like church. Inside, the air was so frigid that the nation's flags began to freeze, crackling under the intense cold. No candles lit the space; only the ethereal glow of the polar lights streaming through the stained-glass windows provided illumination.

A petite woman with long hair, her eyes concealed behind a delicate white lace mask, hums a familiar lullaby from her deceased friend as she leans against a casket. Her voice echoes softly in the frozen stillness.

The eight other Harbingers watched her from a distance, each wearing a similar coat of identical design. By order of Her Royal Highness Tsaritsa, all Harbingers were required to attend the funeral, even the elusive 0th Harbinger.

The 0th Harbinger, code name: Innamorati — The Lovers;

A figure shrouded in mystery and danger, Innamorati remained an enigma even to her fellow Harbingers.

Known only by whispers and rumors, she was a being crafted by the Cryo Archon herself, a weapon designed to challenge the Celestial Gods. Hidden away for years, her existence was the subject of much speculation.

Some Harbingers were indifferent, focusing solely on the success of their plans, while others were intensely curious. Pierro, the Director of the Fatui, claimed to know nothing about her, adding to her mystique.

Rumors abounded: some said Innamorati would annihilate anyone who crossed her path; others believed she had perished decades ago, her legend merely a shadow from the past.

What they all knew for certain was that Innamorati had a notorious reputation for forgetting critical missions assigned by Tsaritsa herself. This unreliability made her both feared and ridiculed within their ranks.

"We are gathered here today to remember our dear comrade," an old dwarf with a long nose and mustache solemnly broke the deafening silence. "In honor of her sacrifice, all work shall halt for half a day as the nation mourns her passing."

"Hehe, merely half a day...?" Pantalone laughed coldly, crossing his hands in front of his chest with a mocking smile. "People say the Northland Bank's true currencies are blood and tears... But mayor, even speaking as a banker, that sounds a little unconscionable."

"Rosalyne died in a foreign land," Arlecchino stepped forward, her crimson red X-cross pupils glowing dangerously bright with annoyance. "But you heartless businessmen and dignitaries always find a convenient excuse to remain in the comfort of your homeland..." She frowned. "You couldn't hope to understand, so why don't you keep your mouth shut?! We don't want to make the children cry."

"Hey, c'mon now, even I don't think this is the right time or place for a fight," Childe chipped in, lazily sitting on one of the wooden benches.

"Utterly risible!" Sandrone mocked, and the machine behind her emitted an audible angry sound.

"Though her methods tarnished her honor, Lohefalter's sacrifice is a great pity. Her loss shall not hinder our progress," Capitano's deep voice resonated through the entire palace, catching everyone's attention.

He turned towards the Doctor, his face hidden behind a dark veil. "But Dottore... What of Scaramouche and the Gnosis from Inazuma?"

Dottore smiled, twirling a tube filled with blue liquid between his fingers. "Conventional wisdom holds that Divine Knowledge cannot be rationally comprehended. After conquering the Divine Gaze, he will make his next move."

The heavy, frozen church door creaked open, allowing the bitter winter air to sweep inside. Everyone turned their gaze towards it, even Columbina, who had paused her humming. 

A woman, clad in a coat of the same design as theirs, stepped into the church, holding a red paper umbrella. The door closed behind her with a resounding bang. The click of her heels on the marble floor echoed through the hall, a stark contrast to the silence that had filled the room.

Her face remained obscured by shadows, yet every person in the room knew instinctively that she was not someone to be trifled with. 

The sense of her power and presence was palpable, a mutual understanding among them all. To cross her would be to invite disaster.

This was Innamorati, the 0th Harbinger, a figure shrouded in mystery and danger, whose very presence commanded respect and fear.

As she advanced, the air seemed to grow even colder, the weight of her presence adding to the already frigid atmosphere. Each step she took resonated with authority, and the silence in the room deepened, a silent acknowledgment of her status among them.

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Finally, you found your way to the place where the funeral was to be held. You hadn't thought you would make it in time, given the ferocity of the snowstorm that had nearly obscured your path and made the journey treacherous.

Your heels clicked sharply with each step as you approached the group of people gathered at the center, where the casket lay. You set your red paper umbrella on one of the wooden benches, the action deliberate and unhurried. 

As the shadow over your face disappeared, the polar light from the stained-glass windows illuminated your features.

With the shadow gone, the collective breath of the eight Harbingers halted involuntarily.

Your beauty was striking: peach-colored, plump lips; long, dark eyelashes framing eyes that seemed to hold the very essence of winter. Your skin was pale and flawless, with a cold radiance that mirrored the icy surroundings. Your presence was both ethereal and commanding, a juxtaposition of delicate grace and chilling power.

You stopped a few steps before the group of Harbingers—your comrades—and looked up at them. 

"0th Harbinger, Innamorati... That is what they call me. You may call me whatever you wish," you introduced yourself, your voice ethereal and soft, yet so cold and lifeless it sent shivers down their spines. "This must be the first time we meet."

"You are quite late, Lord Innamorati," Pulcinella, the old dwarf, addressed you with a mix of respect and caution.

After all, The top-ranked Harbingers, from rank 1 to No. 3, possess powers that can rival the gods. So what about No. 0? Could she surpass the powers of the gods? Or even be greater?

You let out an annoyed sigh. "All the snow-covered streets look the same, and the blizzard did not make navigating to this gathering any easier."

Pantalone chuckled, turning towards you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"If I had known, I would have taken you with me in my carriage, Lady Innamorati. Alas, I am left to wonder why there were no escorts ready for you. I thought I had ordered the highest-ranked Skirmishers for your protection." His voice was dangerously smooth, laden with speculation, hinting at the rumors of you annihilating anyone who crossed your path.

Before you could respond, Childe interjected from the side. "Huh? The oh-so-feared Innamorati getting lost in a mere snowstorm? This is truly a sight to behold." His tone dripped with mockery. 

"Were you also getting lost on the way to your missions?" His voice carried an angry undertone, bitterness seeping through his words. 

He had often been the one to hurriedly take on your missions at the last minute, running from one nation to another like a lackey. The mission to obtain the Geo Archon's Gnosis had been assigned to you, not him, nor the now-deceased Signora. In the end, he had faced severe repercussions after the Northland Bank had to pay heavy reparations.

If gazes could kill, Childe would have been long dead under Pantalone's icy stare. Though his slight smile remained, his eyes closed behind his glasses, he radiated a murderous aura. He longed to hear your voice again and to capture your attention. Such a rare opportunity shouldn't be wasted.

"Insolent child! How dare you—!" Sandrone hissed at Childe, her anger palpable. She, too, feared inciting your wrath. If Childe weren't a fellow Harbinger, Sandrone would have killed him long ago for destroying her ruin guard factory.

"It's time to end tonight's foolish theatrics." 

A deep, husky voice resonated through the church, cutting through the cold silence like a blade.

The man stepped forward from the shadows, his right side concealed by a dark mask. It was Pierro, the Director of the Fatui, and his presence commanded instant respect.

His voice, cold and demanding, echoed with authority as he advanced towards the casket.

"Right now, you have no captive audience," he said, his gaze sweeping over the assembled Harbingers and guests, silently commanding them to gather and pay heed.

You stood on the opposite side of Pierro, your own presence a stark contrast to his imposing figure.

"Let every worthy sacrifice be carved in ice, and let this nation endure for all time," Pierro intoned, his voice carrying the weight of solemn duty.

The assembly lowered their heads in reverence, eyes closing as he delivered the farewell speech. Your hand drifted absently towards your Divine Key, a subconscious gesture.

"In the name of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa," Pierro continued, his voice imbued with a steely resolve, "we will seize authority from the gods."

After several minutes of mournful meditation, Pierro broke the silence and left the building, his movements purposeful and commanding.

The others followed in silent procession, a testament to their respect and shared grief. You took your red paper umbrella, closing your eyes briefly before stepping into the freezing, snow-covered landscape.

"Absolute peace."

As you all departed, the church behind you began to freeze over, layers of crystal ice encasing it under the unyielding winter sky, which shimmered with the ethereal glow of the aurora.

"Such is the gift from the Tsaritsa, such is Her Majesty's benevolence," Pierro declared, his voice carrying a chilling reverence as he halted and gazed up at the celestial lights.

"Now you rest in this coffin, encased in layer upon layer of ice. But, Rosalyne, I promise you..."

"Your final resting place will be the entirety of the Old World," Pierro's voice echoed through the night sky, his farewell imbued with a cold resolve that matched the frozen land around you.

As you watched the polar light dancing across the vast darkness of the sky, a thought surfaced in your mind. You had never known this person, but you had made a promise to someone...

You halted in your steps and glanced back at the frozen church.

Some tasks have to be done, even if they seem pointless.

Amidst the snow, you caught a glimpse of shadowy hands emerging from the icy landscape, reaching out towards the sky one by one, as if seeking transcendence. As you blinked, everything returned to normal.

"Another Memory..."

"Lady Innamorati, is something the matter?" Pierro's voice broke through your reverie as he noticed you staring back at the frozen church.

"...meaningless," you whispered to yourself, yet the faint wind carried your words to Pierro. 

"Pardon?" Pierro asked again, this time capturing the attention of some of the other Harbingers, especially Dottore. The Doctor, ever curious, considered whether you might make an intriguing subject for his experiments.

"It's nothing. Continue without me. I wish to be alone," you ordered, your voice light as silk yet cold as ice. Pierro nodded, casting one last glance at you before leaving. 

Dottore lingered a moment longer, watching you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. As he did, the falling snow seemed to halt and move backward, defying the natural order.

"Existence is fleeting as the dawn's dew," your voice echoed in a dimension separate from the real world, where time had ceased.

Dottore's breath caught as he watched you, disbelief etched across his features. His analytical mind struggled to comprehend the anomaly unfolding before him.

"Yet, I guide the wandering souls on the still waters of oblivion..."

The dimension around you cracked like glass, shattering as you began to walk towards the church.

"...and weep for the departed."

A powerful gust of wind struck Dottore, and in that moment, he perceived everything yet nothing. The world seemed meaningless and empty. He felt his body ascending, his soul slipping away...

"Don't look back..." Your ethereal voice called to him, a beacon of light in the encroaching darkness.

He felt a pull from behind, "Move forward," you whispered. In the next instant, he stood where Pierro had asked if you were alright moments before.

Dottore's breath hitched, his cold heart pounding faster than ever. This was neither a dream nor an illusion. He knew this with certainty. What had just happened? The question echoed in his mind, a mystery as deep as the winter night itself.

One thing was certain: he had unmistakably felt the presence of the Almighty One—the Divine Creator.

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Reblog if you like this story

[zykamiliah]

So we know SQQ uses The Wives/The Women as a stand-in to talk around his attraction to Binghe, but another thing SQQ does is use the Original Shen Qingqiu as a way to talk around his own personality, (negative) emotions, and even self-esteem, either by contrasting himself against him, or by finding similarities. It makes a lot of sense, since he's inhabiting the body of the original, the person he needs to, to a certain point, imitate to survive.

From the very beginning, SQQ finds similarities between o!SQQ and him, and says he doesn't get why someone with reputation, good cultivation and the biggest sect backing him up would be so envious of other people's potential to the point of scheming against them. The Original Shen Qingqiu was not satisfied with the things he has and instead of idling his life away, like Shen Yuan in his previous life, he's digging his own grave.

When rummaging through the carriage interior, SQQ finds a lot of stuff that was frankly unnecessary to take on such a short trip, like "five or six different tea sets". And noting this, SQQ thinks,

No matter that in his past life he could have counted as a wealthy second-gen, he still hadn’t been this pointlessly indulgent in his pursuit of first-world affluenza, okay? (Chapter 1: Scum)

He's saying, "unlike him, i wasn't needlessly indulgent".

Another example is when he compares his own competency to that of O!SQQ. He does this a few times in the first volume.

The original Shen Qingqiu’s skill at facing down demons should have made this quest as easy as killing a chicken with a knife. Shamefully, the knife had failed to even hit the chicken. In seconds, Shen Qingqiu discovered something that made his mood even worse. (Chapter 2: Mission)

In other words, "unlike the original goods, I am so uncool right now". But the best thing about this part is that... it puts SQQ in a bad mood. I want to call attention to the fact that he feels shame for failing, for being being weak when he should be strong. Shame doesn't come out of nowhere.

Rereading this volume and noticing this few hints of his character and emotions really challenge the notion that SQQ/SY is just an easygoing person. There's a lot of mental gymnastics being performed so he doesn't have to confront his own emotions. If the unreliable narrator tells me he's easygoing, should I believe him? I am questioning everything he says until it's confirmed by his actions.

Now, going back to how he uses o!SQQ to talk about his own competency, and most important, how he feels about being competent, strong, etc.

Surrounded by the cheers of the sect’s disciples, Shen Qingqiu attained a complete victory in the first match.

At this moment, Shen Qingqiu realized why the original flavor had clung to being a poser like it was his lifeline—it was unbelievably satisfying. (Chapter 2: Mission)

Why is it so hard to say "being cool feels so so good"? Being admired, strong and capable is something he comes to enjoy, and I wonder about Shen Yuan, and what was his life like. Why does he have to use o!SQQ to open a sentence about why being "a poser" feels good. He won't say he himself is a bit of a poser, or that it feels good to be cool.

The original flavor pushed Luo Binghe onto the battlefield because he was shameless! He didn’t care about the sect’s reputation! He hated Luo Binghe to the bone, enough to want to vicariously torture him via the hands of demons!

The current Shen Qingqiu didn’t share any of those three motives! (Chapter 2: Mission)

SQQ is not shameless, in fact there's a lot of shame in him. He cares about the sect's reputation, even if he's been in PIDW for, what, a few months? And most of that time he spent it in a cave cultivating. I wonder why he latched himself to the sect so quickly? As if a part of him always wanted a place to belong to, be part of, play an important role, a place he could contribute to.

“Do you think that the burden of peak lord will be too heavy, Qingqiu?” asked Yue Qingyuan.

The original Shen Qingqiu would most likely have suspected that Yue Qingyuan was trying to undermine his authority or something of that sort. However, the current Shen Qingqiu knew that Yue Qingyuan was genuinely worried about him overworking himself and damaging his health(...) (Chapter 3: Favor Points)

He's saying: "unlike him, i don't misunderstand people", which is... clearly not the truth, but he doesn't know that. SQQ thinks he has a pretty good grasp about people's intentions and that he's good judge of character.

All that said, the quote that actually made me connect the dots about how SQQ invokes the original to talk around his own emotions is this one, when they're facing MBJ:

“Unusually inferior talent,” [Mobei-Jun] said. “Foundation and techniques inflexible. Leave.”

Shen Qingqiu said nothing.

He wasn’t some unmatched genius in the Human Realm, but his talent was still at least one in a thousand. And Cang Qiong Mountain’s foundation and techniques weren’t inflexible, they were orthodox! Mobei-Jun still described them as he would a pile of garbage. If the original Shen Qingqiu had heard this, he would have coughed up three liters of blood and run away crying to make a voodoo doll. (Chapter 4: Conference)

But wait, that first sentence kind of sounds familiar, doesn't it?

From early on, he’d known that even if he idled the rest of his life away, he’d never want for food. Perhaps due to this carefree upbringing, devoid of either competition or pressure, he came to believe that ranking in the top ten of a competition was good enough, so long as it had more than ten people. (Chapter 1: Scum)

He's saying "as long as I score among the best I don't have to be a top ranker". Like, if he's comparing himself to others, he won't feel bad because he's not at the bottom. He's average, and average is good, right? Like a "at least I passed the test, I don't need a top score" type of thinking. It feels like something he'd tell himself to feel better about his own performance.

The middle child, saying that as long as he has an average rank everything is fine? Hahaha. Yeah ok, Shen Yuan. (wtf are you hidinnnng)

But I want to draw your attention to this sentence

If the original Shen Qingqiu had heard this, he would have coughed up three liters of blood and run away crying to make a voodoo doll.

because it's so fascinating how SQQ is mentally incapable of admitting to himself that his pride has been hurt by MBJ's words. He feels insulted, and he channels that emotion by projecting his feelings on and picturing what the original would feel in that situation.

Oh, but zy, isn't this just SQQ's humorous running commentary on everything that happens to him? Maybe he's not really upset about what Mobei-Jun said about him having "unusually inferior talent".

Nope. He's really, really pissed off

Just as the sword array was about to come down like sheets of rain, Shen Qingqiu snarled within his heart.

I’ve done my best, but he still thinks I’m low-level trash, so what can I do?!

How loathsome! If I have to die, couldn’t it at least be in a better-looking way? After being stabbed with hundreds of black swords, I’m going to be a sieve! Who could bear to look?!

He SNARLED in his heart. MBJ didn't call him low-level trash, he did that himself. It pisses him off that he's going to die in such an uncool way that will leave him looking like an ugly bloody pulp.

Is this really a guy that doesn't care about his reputation or how he looks to others, that calls himself an "easygoing person"????

This is a guy that has had to repress every emotion related to his own pride and self-esteem. And this is something he was doing in his previous life. Again, what the fuck was going on with the Shen family?!

I don't think this is the way a man that is satisfied with his lot in life would think.

Shen Qingqiu was a man of few needs; he would have been satisfied just idling away to a ripe old age. In that way, it wouldn’t be that different from how his previous life had been going.

youre LIYING. I'm not going to trust anything you said about yourself EVER AGAIN. you were so satisfied to "idle your life away" you died from eating expired yogurt! you were clearly repressed and depressed and unhappy and pretending to be okay!

[khattikeri]

drives me nuts when people treat jin guangyao or wei wuxian like they're socialist revolutionaries like no! they're not!! in fact their respective roles in society and complacency regarding its hierarchies is why ANY of the story even happens to begin with!!!

jin guangyao doesn't hold bitterness just because he was born lower class. he is bitter because others deride him and his prostitute mother in spite of both their intelligence, skills, and efforts to climb the ladder.

why do you think we were shown scenes of other prostitutes in the brothel deriding meng shi for being literate, for "trying" so hard? why do you think we were shown scenes of anxin taunting meng yao and throwing shit at him because he was trying to learn cultivation at his mother's behest?

why do you think jin guangyao arranged for the arson of that brothel, burned to the ground with everyone except sisi inside? that's not the behavior of someone who believes in true equality and the inherent worth of sex workers as human beings!

that's the behavior of someone who thinks he's better than them. the behavior of a man who already came up on top through political games and war crimes, backstabbing and spying for the sake of the "greater good".

i won't rehash his argument to nie mingjue that he didn't have a choice-- he had some choice, but no matter what he does his class will come up and people will always assume the worst and try to hurt him for it, which forces his hand to do whatever will protect him best (hence 'no choice').

jin guangyao did everything he could to secure his own safety and a place among those already higher up. and by that point, he'd won it.

the fact that the temple rebuilt on the brothel site is to guanyin, the goddess of mercy, is even more ironic! the fact that jin guangyao has the goddess's statue carved to look like his own mother is proof that he viewed both her and himself as higher than them. more worthy than them.

of course he cared about the general welfare of others (read: the watchtowers). but consider also that there is no watchtower near yi city, which ended up being one of xue yang's playgrounds. jin guangyao can and will turn a blind eye to certain sufferings if it is convenient to him.

sure, jin guangyao made undeniable contributions to cultivation society and accessibility, but he is not at any point trying to topple existing class structures. his adherence to them is in fact integral to his own downfall in the end.

it brings with it the inevitability of society conveniently ignoring his triumphs and genuine moments of humanity to deride him once more as an evil, disgusting son of a whore once his crimes come to light.

now for wei wuxian. he's the righteous protagonist of the story and he doesn't give a fuck what society thinks, yes, but he wasn't out there trying to cause an uprising so that all the poor servant classes and lower could become cultivators. he wasn't trying to redistribute wealth or insinuate that those who are lower deserve to be viewed as equal to the gentry.

the most critical and non-explicitly stated fact of mo dao zu shi is that wei wuxian has always been resigned to his position in the social hierarchy.

his unreliable narration, especially regarding his own past and thoughts, is so damn important. he doesn't EVER tell the reader directly that people treated him any which way at their leisure because of his parents' differing social classes.

no. instead we are shown how much prestige he is afforded as cangse-sanren's son-- reputation as a talented and charming young cultivator, made head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang-- and how little respect he is given in the same breath, as the son of servant wei changze.

the way he is treated by others is as fickle as the wind. if he obeys and does as told, there is no reward. of course he did that, that was the expectation to start with! if he does anything even slightly inconvenient, there is a punishment. of course he has no manners, what else would you expect from an ungrateful son of a servant?

wei wuxian's righteousness is not a matter of adhering to principles he was explicitly taught, the way nie mingjue values honor or the way jiang cheng always tries to prove himself. wei wuxian does the right thing regardless of what the consequences are to him because his good deeds are always downplayed and his bad deeds are always singled out, no matter who or how many people were doing it with him.

he has faced this double standard since childhood. there are points in the novel where it's clear that this sticks out to wei wuxian, but does he ever fight back against that view of himself? does he EVER, at any point in the story, explain his actions and choices to jianghu society and try to debate or appeal to their sense of reason?

no. because he knows, at his very core, that any explicit deviation from their interests whatsoever will be punished.

slaughtering thousands of people is fine when they want him to do it, and when the alternative is unjust torture, re-education camps, and encroachment upon other sects' lands.

slaughtering thousands of people who are trying to paint him as evil for not going along with their genocidal plans, however, is punished.

wei wuxian knows his acceptance among the higher classes is superficial and unsteady. from the age of 10, when jiang fengmian took him in, he knew subconsciously that he could be kicked out at any time.

he knows that cultivation society doesn't care about war crimes and concentration camps and mistreatment of the remaining wen survivors of the sunshot campaign. but the right thing to do now that they aren't at wartime is to help them, plus they'd punish him either way for it, so he will.

in this regard wei wuxian is more self-aware of his position than jin guangyao. he does care about common people and he does try his best to help them as an individual. even if that ends up with him disabled, arrested, targeted in sieges, or dead.

but is he revolutionary? in the full equality, fight the establishment, rewrite laws, change social structures and people's perceptions of class sense?

no. no. he isn't.

now my knowledge of chinese society and history is fairly limited to my hindu diaspora upbringing and our shared cultural similarities ... but speaking to what i absolutely know us true, adherence to one's social class is expected.

this is rigid. efforts and merits might bring you some level of mobility, but in the end, the circumstances of your birth will always be scrutinized first, and your behavior compared to the stereotypes of where and how you originate.

mdzs is not about revolution, and none of its characters are able to truly change its society. there is no grand "maybe cutsleeves aren't inherently bad" or "i'm sorry for persecuting you and believing hearsay, you were truly a good person all along!" at the finale.

people ignore history and repeat it again with the next batch of ugly gossip and rumors.

wei wuxian, lan wangji, and luo qingyang find peace only by distancing themselves from cultivation society and its opinions.

jin guangyao and wei wuxian both cannot ever escape from others' perception of their origins and actions. regardless of their personal beliefs, they are not revolutionaries.

[a-d-nox]

web of wyrd: did-he did it

i had to jump on here!!!! after hearing 50 cent talk about the * ***** (i won't say the name in the weird chance that i get flagged for doing so but we know exactly who i mean) accusations, i had to pull his web. this man did exactly what he was accused of...

let's take a look...

the orange orbs are the sacral chakras of the matrix. left to right (horizontal / x-axis) is the physical manifestation, while up to down (vertical / y-axis) is the spiritual manifestation... the top left to bottom right (masculine generation line / z-axis) is the emotional manifestation. back to the sacral chakra...

the physical sacral chakra is can tell us about sexual desires a person may have...

15 AS THE PHYSICAL SACRAL CHAKRA

he desire dominance and/or to be dominated. he wants to control and/or possess others (why not tape what happens at his parties, no?).

he seeks to break societal rules or taboos, indicating an attraction to what is forbidden. this could involve fetishes, kinks, and/or exploring fantasies that might feel “wrong” or transgressive (you mean like drugging the guests at your sex parties OR getting trafficking involved)...

an addictive quality to the sexual desires, suggesting compulsive or obsessive behavior regarding sex (bro why even do something this "grand" so frequently...). being consumed by physical attraction or lust, to the point where other aspects of life are neglected (literally everything else he created is going to be nothing now because he did what he did because of his addiction to sex and control).

indulgence, physical sensation, and bodily pleasure, possibly to an extreme.

the darker side of the psyche - desires that are repressed or hidden in the shadow self. sexual fantasies that involve themes of control, punishment, submission, or raw, unfiltered lust.

15 AS THE MAIN SIDE HUSTLE / CROWN EMOTIONAL NUMBER

there are good and bad manifestations of this number in this position but NO the trafficking is disgusting and distasteful. all those on his list are just as disgusting to me. he profited too much off of his "secret" sex parties. he deserves to rot in jail.

18 FLOW

things that are not as they seem. someone hiding aspects of themselves or being involved in shady activities... if these hidden truths come to light, especially in a public way, they could severely damage a person’s (or many people in this case) reputation.

can stir up anxiety, paranoia, and/or irrational fears (i really do think when he hugged justin in that one clip he was feeling for a wire), which might cause someone to act in ways that undermine their reputation. they might overreact to a situation or accuse others based on their own insecurities, only to look unbalanced or unreliable in the eyes of others.

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[thejudeduarte]

If you're open to questions I wanted to ask something. I'm currently reading TQON and there are some scenes (as well as a few in TWK) where is implied that Cardan has other relations while being with Jude? How that makes him different than Locke? Or I'm misunderstanding something...

Thanks for the ask!! My inbox is always open so feel free to ask away <3. Sorry this took a while, I've been busy lately and never had the time to type it all late (also sorry if I start ranting lol)

These are all the quotes/moments from both twk and tqon where it mentioned this topic and I assume this is where you got slightly confused;

I think the important thing we've all got to understand here is that Jude is an extremely unreliable narrator when it comes to Cardan and romance. She only ever really sees what her brain makes her see, so for example, when Cardan never returned to bed that one night in tqon, her mind almost immediately went to him taking up other lovers when she was gone but that's not necessarily the case. She's trying to convince herself that he hates her and she hates him too but she's entirely wrong. I don't believe he was taking up lovers, I think she only said that as it was the only reason she could think of. Jude also finds Cardan very attractive and beautiful so perhaps she's also misinterpreting these things and she believes that a lot of people would desire to be with him because of his looks and his past behaviours during and pre tcp because of the reputation he built up for himself.

This is one of the reasons that I think the fandom desperately needs tcp rewritten in Cardans' pov as there are so many things that would be explained better were it through his eyes. I'm not dissing Hollys' writing AT ALL. It's just the way that Jude is and she almost cannot fathom the thought of him wanting her in any way so her mind almost always jumps to these false conclusions.

Additionally, you may have noticed that she always describes his hair as messy and as if he's woken up from someone else's bed. Again, he could have just woken up from his own bed that's why his hair is messy but she's making up all these excuses to also try and bury down her own growing feelings for him that she's desperately trying not to feel.

Please can someone else add to this I'm sure that they could explain it far better than I could but this is just my own personal view on this topic. Whereas Locke did take up other relations when he was with Taryn, Cardan has made it clear that he never thought love was a game unlike Locke who did and who revelled in creating his so-called stories. This is also proved as Cardan took his and Nicasias' relationship very seriously when he was with her.

[ririsasy]

Sit on my lap [part 2]🔞✋

Part 1

Varadha wasn't really actually in a gang, it was just his group of friends. They ditched Varadha with Deva the other night because they're too scared of Deva to even ask for their friend back from the clutch of a wolf like him. They have heard about Deva's reputation and know that Deva is a gang leader and he's ruthless! He breaks people's bones left and right if they dared to cross him.

They thought that was the end of Varadha after he throw up on Deva! What was he thinking doing something so unthinkable like that.

Varadha quickly left Deva's house in a taxi after he get dressed in hurry with his own washed clothes. He went straight to Rinda's house to curse at him for being such an unreliable friend leaving him with a stranger like that. Rinda explained to him that Deva wasn't an ordinary stranger and from now on they should be avoiding that club with all costs if they wanted to stay alive.

But then a week after the event Deva and Varadha met again accidentally, this time Varadha's group yet again got into a fight but with other people and Deva happened to pass by. Deva didn't even think about getting involved in the first place but the attackers suddenly pulling out knives, so Deva had to step up before anyone got badly injure. It was just like another monday for Deva, he easily can avoid the attack going his way and broke the attacker' arms to make them drop the knives, true to his reputation as bone snappers, they scattered away after that holding their broken hands.

Varadha's friends look at Deva in fear but also thankful of his intervention, but they didn't dare to say anything to Deva, so they push Varadha as their humble sacrifice to go talk to the wolf.

"...Thank you for helping us." Varadha said reluctantly.

"..why you guys always got into a fight you can not win?" Deva asked while fixing his leather jacket that got ruined from the fight.

"We didn't search for trouble but when it came to us we didn't back down!" Varadha quickly shout back trying to defend his group.

"Whatever, next time pick someone your size or you will be bleeding on the street." Deva said while looking at Varadha from head to toe, appreciating the see through white shirt that leave little to imagination.

"Yeah yeah we will make sure we never have to bother you or show our faces in front of you to cause you an inconvenience. What should I do to repay for the trouble?" Varadha asked while rolling his eyes because this man is so high on himself.

"Still the same thing I told you when you were in my place, get on my lap and give me a kiss." Deva teased him again patting his own inner thigh, delighted at the fast spreading blush on Varadha's cheeks.

"You pervert old man!!" Varadha shouted at his face and then run toward his friends and pulled them away from Deva who couldn't stop laughing at Varadha's adorable reaction.

Varadha's friends only nod at Deva's direction and making a thankful gesture with their hands as Varadha keep dragging them far away from Deva.

.

.

"So, you and Deva huh?" Rinda, one of Varadha's friends started teasing him as they order their drink at a nearby cafe after they run away from Deva.

"No such thing!" Varadha dismissed the accusation quickly, he shivered just by the thought alone that there was something between him and the insufferable man.

"But he said there was something happening at his place? "Same thing I told you when you were in my place" quote unquote that was what he said. Wasn't it?" Rinda still didn't want to let it go.

"As you heard! It was just his wish, nothing happening, no way I will like such an arrogant bastard so full of himself like that. But aren't we all trying to stay away from him for the past few days now? Why are you showing interest at him now?" Varadha squinted his eyes at Rinda's direction in suspicion.

"Nothing like that. It's just he helped us just a moment ago! So he wasn't actually that bad? Imagine if we are on his good side we don't need to be worried anymore about people pushing us around. " Rinda trying to give reason to Varadha.

"So what now? You want to join his gang or something? Go a head! I don't want to do anything with him. Enough talking about him, my headache can't handle it anymore. Tonight we still go to that new place that you found right? I really need to unwind. Especially after what happened today." Varadha said with a sour mood.

"Yeah yeah, same time as plan, you, Bilal will join us or not?"

"Hard pass. I rather sleep after I got the most of the beating before your knight in shining armor came to our rescue. Good rest will do wonderful thing to my bones." Bilal said waving his hand in front of his friends, he sometimes feel like he is too old for all of this escapades.

"Your lost! We're going disco tonight, gonna wear all the obnoxious outfits we have right varadha? Bring out that slutty red jeans with red flower shirts you have to seduce some prey."

"Totally, gonna make sure I got laid tonight no matter what." Varadha said with conviction, Bilal could only shake his head at his friends' terrible, somehow he feels like something unexpected is bound to happen.

.

.

Bilal is perhaps a psychic because here comes the trouble.

Varadha was asking for his third drink to the bartender after he was exhausted from dancing on the dance floor not caring about anything in the world, his chest peaking from his barely buttoned silky red shirst glints with sweats from his previous activity, his hair sticky just the same, but he didn't care he at least could free himself from Deva's images that's been occupying his mind.

He was looking at Rinda who still dance on the floor with girls glued to him from all side, Varadha chuckled at his carefree dance that didn't even match with the rhythm of the music. He looked back again at the bartender thinking he had served him his drink only for the bartender to gesture him at the faraway table at the corner of the room, it's luminous with yellow light, even half drunk Varadha could easily spot the tall figure sitting there.

Shit, it's Deva.

"That's the owner of this club, he said, your drink is free, he would appreciate if you can thank him in person." The bartender pushed the drink toward Varadha with the tip of his fingers.

Varadha is not flattered, he's indeed furious, why is this man couldn't leave him alone at all, why he is everywhere, and why the hell this club belong to him? Varadha was just enjoying his time and actually like the atmosphere of this club and the drink actually taste good here and not like piss, he was just about to put this on the list of the club he would like to revisit and now he didn't know anymore.

He gulped down the drink in one shot, wiped his mouth haphazardly with the back his hand and stomped his feet toward Deva's place.

Looking at Varadha's arrival, Deva dismissed his companions, most of them just sexy girls who pour drink for him and light his cigarette, Varadha step aside as the last girl who sit on Deva's lap stand up and make her exit as well brushing the side of his shoulder. Varadha tried to ignore the increasing hot feeling in the pit of his stomach, he didn't know where it came from, he refused to admit that he was jealous from what he just saw, there's nothing going on between him and Deva at all, why did he need to be angry?

"What do you want now? I didn't know this is your club, I will leave." Varadha finally said, after it's just the two of them left. Deva only look at him curiously, like he is inspecting a product, puffing his cigarette and then holding it between his two long fingers. He rest his clasped hands under his chin.

"It was you who decided to not meet me again but fate said otherwise, you came to my den perfectly on you own accord, here you are standing in front of me, looking like that, like an offering, can you just quench my curiosity and be done with it." Deva asked like he was bargaining something he could pay, Varadha is so frustrated by a man with no manner like this and yet he feel intrigued and saw it like a challenge.

"What's your curiosity? What can I do so fate would tear us a part so we don't have to meet again?" Varadha asked with fire in his eyes.

"Same thing, come here, sit on my lap and give me a kiss." Deva took another drag from his cigarette, adjusting his sitting position, spreading his legs wider and pat his lap, looking at Varadha with blatant want.

Varadha wanted to jump at him, not because he like this man not at all but because he just want to slap that confidence off of his handsome face.

"What with you and your childish game?" Varadha asked Deva from between his gritted teeth, he was so furious that he couldn't control himself and grabbed Deva's collar ready to throw a punch.

Deva didn't even flinch, he just looked at Varadha with his piercing eyes up close, inspecting him some more, puffing the smoke on his face, Varadha close his eyes immediately, trying not to cough at the smoke onslaught to his sense.

"It's not a game to me, just sit here, after all, you already scared my companions for the night because of the fury in your eyes, but up close, I can see how long those eyelashes are, it would be even prettier if there's something else in your eyes rather than anger when you look at me."

"You are drunk and you don't even know what you're saying" Varadha whispered the words now they're too close to each other. He didn't let go of Deva's collar, still pulling it tight in his grip.

Deva slowly put his hand on Varadha's waist, soothing it with his thumb when he felt Varadha jump from the touch and hold him steadily as he slowly guide Varadha to really sit on his lap. Varadha was too stunned to react.

How did he really end up on this man's lap? This wasn't how he envisioned his night would go.

"There. It wasn't hard, was it?" Deva asked without remorse. From this up close, it would be so easy to choke Deva but Varadha just couldn't do it, this man and his confidence will be the death of him, he instead settled his hand on Deva's shoulder for balance.

"I won't even touch you, you can just sit on my lap as I finish my cigarette how about that?" Deva asked the question like Varadha has other choice, he actually has, but there's something at the back of his head who whispered to him that he should play this game.

"Is this some kind of kink to you? Asking any random man to be on your lap?" Varadha questioned him accusingly.

Deva only chuckled, puffing out yet again another smoke but this time to other direction that didn't bother Varadha.

"The only man, can you believe? Usually there are girls. The first man I saw that I want to be on my lap." Deva told him truthfully, his eyes are wild, he couldn't control it, scanning Varadha's figure, fixated on his exposed chest.

Varadha noticed those hungry gaze, the warm feeling quickly spreading to his entire body turning his cheeks into shade of pink.

"Should I be flattered? Or you use this line to all the man you pick up? To make them feel special?" He challenged again, despite his best effort to conceal what he was feeling, Deva's words had started affecting him.

Varadha involuntarily whimpered when Deva's hand brushed his waist accidentally when he took his drink on the table.

Deva smirked at his reaction.

"You are so skittish just from so little. Sitting on my lap is not a hard task is it? Or do you want me to do more?" Deva asked from under his eyes like a predator while he drink his whiskey, his plush lips shining from the remnant of the liquor and Varadha suddenly had an urge to know how those lips taste.

Shit, what's happening.

"What did you drink awhile ago?" Deva's deep voice pulling Varadha out of his reverie; another inhale to his cigarette.

"Just a margarita." He answered shortly, tearing his gaze away from Deva's tempting lips.

"Can I have a taste?" Deva asked again.

"I drank it all in one go, I doubt there's anything left unless you asked your bartender to make a new one., after all it's your club." Varadha said matter of factly.

"But there's still some on your lips. I can have those." Deva raised one of his eyebrows unashamedly. Varadha almost gasped at his attitude but yet again he shouldn't be so surprised anymore considering their situation currently.

"Is this a new trick to ask for a kiss?"

"Only if it's proven successful." Deva looked at him with anticipation and Varadha didn't know what come into him, he was already curious about how Deva's plush lips would taste like and now there's even an invitation from the owner, so what was he waiting for?

Varadha slowly leaning down and place the softest kiss on Deva's lips, the spark that Deva felt from just a little touch almost made him unable to control himself not to take more than what Varadha offered, luckily he could refrain himself and stay still, waiting for whatever Varadha gave him.

After awhile Varadha pulled away, his eyes glazed with something new, there's no more hatred in there, only a novel desire.

"There's a hint of citrus there but other than that I could barely taste it, can I ask for more?" Deva brushed the bottom of his lip with his thumb, once again being so blatant with his flirting.

Varadha didn't object the request, instead he dived down once again, this time pushing his tongue through Deva's open mouth, Deva welcome him way too eagerly, quickly entangled Varadha's soft tongue with his own, sucking on it like he's truly chasing the remaining liquor taste left on Varadha's tongue.

The couple was lost in each other's taste, forgetting the space and time completely like there's no one else in the room but only the two of them, music distance in their ears, conversations swallowed into background noise, all they could hear was just each other's labor breathing and the passion of their heart in their own ears, it's intoxicating and deafening.

Varadha's mind start to go fuzzy on Deva's lap, he almost lost his balance when Deva's tongue literally assaulted his mouth with how deep he could reach inside, Varadha hasn't kiss many men before, he clearly wasn't accustomed with a man's strength and their hunger, usually he was the dominant one but now he almost couldn't handle the way Deva literally fuck his mouth with his tongue alone.

Varadha quickly encircled both his arms around Deva's neck to support himself because he felt like he was floating. Deva immediately put his hands around Varadha's slim waist, holding him in place and pulling him closer toward him, he slowly rest more of his body into into the armrests and pulled Varadha with him making Varadha straddled his lap completely.

After what feel eternity, Varadha break away from Deva's demanding mouth breathlessly, he rest his forehead agaisnt Deva's, staring down at the handsome Devil beneath him.

Deva slowly opened his eyes, the hunger still visible in them, lips glistened with the mingle of their spits. Varadha is instantly in love.

Deva close the distance between them to planted a kiss at his mookuthi, then the tip of his nose before kissing his lips softly.

"Gosh, you are so damn beautiful, Varadha. You have been running around in my mind for a whole week how dare you run away from me after you throw yourself into my arms that night! Almost make me go ballistic because how much I want to have my way with you, but I was trying my best to be a gentleman to you, but deep down I want ...I want to eat you up." Deva confessed boldly. He was indeed holding himself back from pursuing Varadha because he didn't know if he would be interested and he liked him too much to scare him away or hurt him but fate keep serving Varadha in a silver platter for him, tempting him to take a bite.

"What do you want to do to me if I allowed you to have your way with me?" Varadha teased between the hammering of his heart inside his chest for this dangerous man, he never meet anyone who could be so honest about what they want, he knows he is playing with fire, but damn him, he loves the color it makes.

.

"Oh..I will show you pretty baby, I will show you all night long."

Deva pulled Varadha on his face with both of his hands for another passionate kiss.

.

"Bilal, come pick me up, I am drunk and can't drive."

"Where's Varadha?" Bilal asked with concern in his voice.

"I am the one who called you and yet you only think about young master, Varadha."

"It's not like that, you know how he is, he couldn't handle a liquor too much."

"You wouldn't believe where he is right now, man."

"On Deva's lap?"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU A FREAKING PSYCHIC BRO?" Rinda yelled through the cellphone, suddenly feeling sober.

"I swear to God trouble always find that boy and now it's the biggest trouble of his life. Wait there don't go anywhere I will come right away, keep eye on Varadha."

"Can't anymore, man. We have lost him. I saw Deva carrying him on his hips with one arm to his car where our dear Varadha shamelessly clinging to him like a little koala. It was comical and embarrassing. Varadha couldn't stop kissing him and climbing on him like a horny little cat, pick me up I am too embarrassed no one want to go back with me to my place. Before I cry here feeling so single!"

.

Part 3

[insufferableprotagonistpoll]

Round 3

Propaganda why Alexander Hamilton is insufferable:

"Literally sick of hearing about this guy and his musical. I do not care about Lin Manuel Miranda's masturbatory self insert-ification of an actual slave owner but. He is everywhere. Rapping stupidly. Also just a shitty person even in the play. "Show me how to say no to this" easy, N. And then an O. I wish I never had to hear about Hamilton. And I hate his voice. That's annoying too."

"Only cares about himself. When he fears he's going to get outed for cheating on his wife, he is not concerned for Eliza's wellbeing whatsoever, he's just concerned with his reputation.

Dumb as fuck. When his son wants to duel, he tells him to *attend the duel bc the other guy will be nice and miss on purpose*.

Written to be The Most Desirable Man Ever™️. Self-insert (derogatory). The way he treats other people and the way he refuses to learn lessons make listening to the musical impossible."

"He's so annoying?? And full of himself?? Gotta say I quit watching after the intermission because I could not deal with him. No redeeming qualities."

Propaganda why Jimmy is insufferable:

"The most chillingly real depiction of one of those men that think the world owes them everything. He's a rapist, a misogynist, abelist, self-centered, abusive, terrible friend and person that gets everyone killed because he was big mad about being laid off. It shocks me that there are apparently people out there that play the game and like him. He's so evil, but never in a way that makes him cartoonish, and that makes him all the more terrible. The game lays it out itself: he won't take responsibility for anything. He is never the villain in his own eyes. Scumbag."

"Tbh he's not just insufferable. He's disgusting. I can't even list all the horrible things he did because they would need multiple trigger warnings. He thinks that he's so high and mighty to the point where he betrays his own captain so that he can take his place, and then blames his actions and the ship crashing on said captain, who was actually trying to save them. So all of the crew died in one way or another (because of Jimmy's actions) thinking that their captain betrayed them when really if was him. And a quick Google search can tell you all the really nasty shit that he did. So not only is he insufferable, he's also just a horrible human being."

"Listen, I'm not even in the fandom and I know what his ass did. Screw this guy"

"Bro never takes responsibility for anything he did. Assuming he even acknowledges it *vaguely motions at what he did to Anya*"

"SA, causing a ship to crash, murder and elongating his friend's suffering in a cryopod for 20 years"

"He's literally the worst. He's a rapist, he framed his friend for attempted murder-suicide after getting him mutilated, and he either directly or indirectly killed everyone else. He's such an unreliable narrator that it's difficult to tell how the others of the Tulpar crew actually are because he sees everyone as beneath him."

"rape, murder, just generally being an asshole"

"LITERALLY A RAPIST"

[nightmare-foundation]

Act like a dog (get treated like one)

Sooo rubs my hands together. I randomly got some motivation to do some practice writing and I really wanna do some writing for my AK Dick au sooo,, let's hope this is decent lol

For some context: this is my au where Dick becomes the Arkham Knight. It doesn't take place in the Arkhamverse, rather it's in my own comics verse, but the au follows the plot of Arkham Knight. So essentially Dick gets tortured for 1-2 years. This is early in his capture, so he's still a fighter. Also, any time frame mentioned here is 100% unreliable on Dicks part. He has NO idea how long he's been stuck in Arkham. I'd say it's probably closer to a month and a half or two months? Idk, it's up to you lol.

Tw for dehumanization, muzzles, collars, mentions of torture, manipulation- really the Joker is his own warning

Dick tugs lightly on his bonds as the guard rolled him down the dirty, dilapidated hallway, the barbed wire cutting into his uniform and skin. The barbed wire did it's job well; it kept him from moving too much, kept him from trying his luck and attempting another escape. Dick bit back a hiss as the metal caught on a still healing wound, tearing it back open. Quickly, he stopped his movement, not wanting to make his injuries worse.

Dick gritted his teeth as the wheelchair passed over a bump in the tile, feeling his broken ankle twinge painfully at the jostle. He couldn't believe the Joker paid off the Arkham guards, and even the damn inmates. Well, actually, he could obviously see the Joker doing that, but people actually going for the damn money? Ignoring that he's here, even participating in this torment?

He smothered his righteous anger at that. The Joker was volatile and insane, and had a terrifying reputation; of course people would turn the other eye if it kept them and their loved ones safe. But even then, safety wasn't guaranteed, so what was the point?

Dick shoved it all down. He couldn't think like that. That was what Joker wanted; to break him down. Well, he wouldn't let that happen. Couldn't let that happen. With any luck, his family would be here soon, breaking down Arkhams walls to save him, if he couldn't escape. So, hopefully, he wouldn't have to worry about being broken. It's only been a few weeks. Or… was it a month? Longer? No- don't think that. It can't have been that long.

He jerks to a stop suddenly, and Dick looks up to see a familiar room- and a familiar face.

He carefully keeps his face neutral as the Joker grins widely, standing up from his chair and opening his arms wide. “Why, hello there, Bird Boy! How nice of you to finally join us!” The Joker waves them over, and the guard rolls him closer to the middle of the room. Dick can see the chains hanging from the ceiling, a warm yellow light bulb flickering nearby. “Come, come! I have sooo many plans for us today! Aren't you just excited?! I do love a good party!”

Worry and fear curdles in Dicks gut. The excitement, the anticipation in the Jokers body language- none of it spelled anything good. Granted, being in here at all wasn't good, but when the Joker was excited like this… well, Dick was already starting to understand that it was a promise of torment.

“Not particularly, no. Doesn't seem like a super thrilling party; there isn't even any cake.” Dick quipped. Even after all this torture, he still couldn't keep his mouth shut. His voice came out broken and hoarse, throat burning as he tried to sound confident like he used to. It was a fruitless endeavor, though, only succeeding in making him sound like the victim he really was. The constant screaming was really doing a number on his poor throat.

The Joker laughed at him, as if amused by his feeble attempt at fighting back. “That's because you're the cake, silly!” He leaned in close, pinching at Dicks cheek. “And I can't wait to just eat you right up.” The Joker pulled away, grimy hand finally leaving his face. The clown gestured at the guard standing behind Dick–Boles? His name would be important for when he escaped–seemingly impatient with him. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get him out and string ‘em up for me!”

The guard shifted to the front of him, hands reaching towards the barbed wire wrapped around Dicks neck. He tugs at it, the metal barbs cutting a bit into his neck as it's unwrapped and untangled. Fear- no, terror makes Dicks pulse race. If he's freed and strung up- the whip cracking, his back screaming in blinding, white-hot agony, blood pouring down his back and legs and dripping, dripping, dripping down in a puddle as the whip made contact again and again and again-

His blood ran cold. That had been within his first week here. Those injuries, his shredded back, were just barely healed. They still tugged painfully whenever he moved, threatening to tear back open. He- he couldn't- he couldn't let that happen. That couldn't happen again, not the whip, not the fingers digging into his flesh, or the skin being pulled at in such agonizing ways until he passed out from the pain. Dick couldn't go through that again.

The hand from Boles moved, and it was just a bit too close, a bit too fast. Instinct and fear lead Dick as he lashed out with the only part of him that was free.

His teeth dug deep into the flesh of the hand, quicker than he could process what he was doing, hot, metallic blood filling his mouth. A shriek escaped the man's mouth as he wrenched his hand away, Dicks clenched teeth taking a chunk of flesh from it. He spat it out as the guard cradled his bloodied, mutilated hand. “You damn animal!” The man snarled at him, fury and pain written all over his face.

Dick looked up through the strands of his greasy hair, up at the Joker. The clown tutted at him, and it was then that his terror-fueled actions hit him. His heart rabbitted beneath his ribcage as the Joker roughly grabbed his face in a bruising grip, unforgiving as the nails dug into his skin.

“Well, that was just plain rude. Is that any way to treat others? No, no, no, that just won't do.” The Joker let go, walking away to the far side of the room, continuing to talk. “You've just been so naughty lately! All the backtalk, scratching, biting- you're like an untrained, feral dog attacking it's owner!” Dick gritted his teeth at the Jokers words. I'm not a damn dog!

The Joker grabbed something and walked back over. In his hands were- oh, fuck no.

“And, well, when a dog gets too aggressive, you have to muzzle them. Officer Boles, be a dear and hold his head back for me.”

Dick jerked backwards as the man stalked forward, grabbing a hold of his hair and yanking his head back. His hair became slick with blood from the man's injury, and his neck strained painfully.

The Joker moved quickly, and Dick thrashed as the muzzle was forced over his face. The bit was shoved into his mouth as the muzzle forced his jaw shut, teeth grinding against the rubber painfully. The straps were pulled tightly and securely, the muzzle firm and unmoving. Then something clicked around his throat; a thick collar.

Before Dick could comprehend what was happening, his bonds were torn off unceremoniously and the collar on his throat was yanked hard. Dick fell to the dirty, tiled floor, slamming face first into it as the wheelchair he was just in was pushed away. Blinding pain shot through his ankle, briefly making his vision white out before the leash was pulled at again.

“On your knees, boytoy, like a good dog.” Jokers taunting voice sounded, and disgust and humiliation crawled up Dicks spine. But he could do nothing but obey, pain making his whole body shake as he sat on his knees, leaning forward on his hands. He could feel blood seeping down his back, down his front, and he knew his wounds had opened back up.

Joker tugged on the leash as he crouched down, pasty white face far too close to Dick for his comfort. “You do realize i have to punish you now?” Dick froze at that, terror striking through him once again. It must've shown on his face, because the Joker cooed at him, stroking his face. “Aww, don't look so glum, dear. You brought this upon yourself.”

Punishments- punishments were… god, if this was Hell, then the punishments were far, far worse than Hell. The last one he got had been after his last escape attempt. That- that had been the whipping. The electrocution, the burning, being slowly, painfully skinned little by little, layer by agonizing layer. It had lasted days- maybe a little longer.

No, no nononono- stupid stupid stupid- horrifyingly, a sob involuntarily pulled itself from his throat. Nonono don't cry, stop crying, that's what he wants, you're not breaking you're not you won't- he tried to swallow down another sob, but the next made him break. Dick shook his head, weak and terrified and- God he was so tired, so so tired and hungry and thirsty and he was beyond fucking exhausted. He hardly got two hours of sleep the previous night before being woken by yet another night terror, he hasn't eaten in at least a couple days- when was the last time he had water?

The Joker cooed sadly at him. “Aww, c'mere. Papa Jokers got you.” The psychopathic clown tugged him forward into his arms. Dick flopped forward, tears streaming out of his eyes as he cried uncontrollably. He felt equal parts disgust, humiliation and utter relief at the kind contact. How long has it been since he's gotten any amount of kindness, manipulative or not?

God. God, he was terrified. He was exhausted and scared.

And worst of all- he was starting to break.

[just-existing-as-you-do-blog]

Bro. Me when Gothic Literature writen by men vs Gorhic Literature written by women.

Like the lady charecters in Gothic Literature written by men all have the prevalent threat of Rape over their heads. (Excluding Dracula and Jekyll and Hyde though it can be argued that Dracula included some element of that metaphorically. Don't even get me started on the 1931 Jekyll and Hyde movie adaptation I'll start biting people.) And charecter is usually a generous word to describe them, caricatures might be more accurate. Gothic Literature has a focus on the taboo and horror but it feels fetishsizing the way these historical authors include it. This poor virginal girl (teenager usually) is going to be violated and corrupted by the big bad monster. Like oh that's very original did you get a papercut on your dick jerking off to this? Oh the man couldn't have possibly resisted the temptation and he threw himself at her in the throws of passion? Shut up. Men are not rabid dogs that throw themselves at every piece of meat. And I know historically women were believed to be too tempting to resist or whatever but that shouldn't stop me from pointing out ACEDEMICALLY the pattern. This theme of violation as a threat means that these male authors knew that it was the worst thing that could ever happen to these young girls. That it was violent and wrong and the men that do it are monsters, but they still treat it with the same sublime colored glasses that they treat the supernatural with. This is horrific, it is not beautiful in the way blood dripping onto snow is, it is not beautiful in the way a sword skewering someone and staining their pastel clothes red it, it's just horrific. There is no honor in violence, historically Gothic Literature as a genre has known that, but the theme of sexual violence is still present and it is present in a fetishsizing light. In this I am discussing The Castle of Otranto, Vathek, and volumes 1 and 2 of The Monk. Even if it was important to the themes of the story or even well written (Unreliable narrator Raymond in The Monk) I just have to ask academically; Why is it so prevalent? And I do invite people to genuinely answer me.

Because then there is Gothic Literature written by women, and their women ARE charecters. And Frankenstein for example is about death, and fatherhood, and playing God. It's main charecter is a sniveling coward and all of the women in it are brave in the face of danger. Elizabeth marries Victor because she is a good daughter who wants to honor their mother's final wish. She tells everyone about the injustice of the trial, that she is sure her friend did not kill Henry. Isn't that interesting? That Mary Shelly could explore those themes without dangling sexual assault over the who narrative or describing a woman's "soft, warm, breasts" in detail even once? Or Rebecca! Which I admit I haven't read all the way through, she could portray a marriage gone very wrong and the main charecter calmly helping her new husband cover up his wife's murder, without treating the main charecter as a delicate flower in over her head. She isn't pure, she isn't delicate, she may be insecure but she can certainly handle herself, especially by the end of the novel. And though it had themes centered around romance, reputation, and when a wrong is justified, there was never a threat of sexual assault. (Actually is Rebecca Gothic Literature? You decide I guess.) So there is horror, and beauty, and taboo to be explored without the threat that male authors have historically dangled over women's heads. The creature is beautiful, and new, and it doesn't know better, but he never even thought about sex. I don't know if he even knew what it entailed, he was 4 by the end of the book after all. (Though I would argue Frankenstein is more Dark Romantisism then Gothic, but they do have alot of overlap and my professor disagrees.)

Anyway my reading list for a class is getting me down on account of Shelly being the ONLY female author on it, which I wasn't too upset about until 3 of the four texts we read included what I discussed above. And for the Castle of Otranto my professor skipped over the very real threat Isabella was under, focusing instead on her loyalty to Hippolita. I like Castle of Ontario. I like the Monk. I think they are interesting, I get the themes, I get it.

Anyway Bram Stoker and Mary Shelly rescue me from the Hell I'm in.

[frye7]

I'm so freaking tired to read comments about how Radahn actually beat and is stronger than Malenia and he holds back the stars and learns magic not to kill Leonard IN. EVERY. SINGLE. MALENIA'S. POST/VIDEO/MEME/EVERYTHING.

More often than not TOTALLY UMPRONTED.

Like, we get it, you Radahn's fanboys are irked your favourite character isn't the absolute best. So what?

The lore literally said "Malenia fought Radhan to a standstill" AND THAT'S THE END OF IT.

Yes, afterwards she bloomed, making Caelid what we see today, and yes, that made her pass out, and yes, she had to be carried away by Finlay, so what?

Literally how does that make her less then her opponent, who lost his mind and became a shadow of his former self?

Also, she gets insulted all the time because you all think she bloomed because she didn't want to lose, when actually WE DON'T KNOW EXACTLY WHY SHE DID IT.

Did she do it because she was desperate? Maybe.

Did she do it because her needle broke? Maybe.

Did she do it because she couldn't hold back the Rot anymore? Maybe.

We don't know how the Rot works.

What we do know is that her Cleanrots followed her with pride, at the point of CHOOSING TO DECAY to stand by her side. And I don't think many of them would have done that for a Demigod who would nuke an entire region without second thoughts or giving a damn about it.

We all saw how Godrick treated his people and the reputation and hate it gained him from the Lands Between.

(And the fact that Malenia, after being insulted by him and still even if it was her right to chose not to kill him should make you people ponder on what it says about her character. Literally why would she willingly cause such pain and distruction to innocent people when she didn't kill an horrible person like Godrick? When SHE HERSELF HATES HER ROT)

That's the whole point with George Martin.

The whole point with him and his books: in medieval times informations are unreliable, because some are made up, some are incomplete, some are missing, etc.

And that's the same thing for Elden ring, all informations and lore we have comes from dialogues and item's descriptions.

And ALL of them proclaimed the battle of Aeonia a tragic battle which ended in a STALEMATE.

Cry all you want about it, and STOP insulting characters other people like just because you don't like the lore.

Both Radahn and Malenia are impressive, not perfect, but certainly impressive characters and leaders, as both their armies followed them with pride.

There is literally NO POINT in keeping that discussion up. And there is certainly NO POINT in ruining all posts that celebrates Malenia FOR HERSELF, without even talking about Radahn.

SHOW SOME RESPECT.

THANK YOU KINDLY.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

I'll preface this by saying it's been a hot minute since I read the books, so there might be an easy answer and I'll be mildly ashamed but better informed.

But I don't see how Tom Riddle could have publicly (but covertly) announced the Heir of Slytherin was the one siccing the basilisk on muggleborns back in the 1940s and also claimed his heritage as a descendant of Slytherin, even if only within Slytherin house.

You're telling me that there wasn't a single Slytherin who wasn't under Tom's thumb or enamoured of him -- even for two consecutive hours -- who wouldn't have immediately ratted him out as part of a power play? Or who wouldn't have used it as blackmail at some point?

(And maybe it's fanon that he told the Knights of Walpurgis that he was the Heir of Slytherin? But I believe the implication was that Tom's change of status in his house is in large part because of the discovery of his ancestry.)

I know there's probably a "what happens in Slytherin stays in Slytherin" mentality at play, and the Heir of Slytherin means something significant to this group in particular, and that this is far from the only inconsistency regarding Tom's adolescence, and we've got a couple pretty unreliable narrators/interpreters presenting Tom's past.

But I simply cannot fathom that every single stuffy, bigoted pureblood in that house cowtowed to Tom, that upstart, no-name mudblood (well, halfblood) for the more than two years before he graduated. They all had two months away from Hogwarts shortly after Myrtle's death, too, during which they could have spread the information and made it more difficult for Tom to pin down who tattled. They have the power, due to their names and wealth -- with the correct pressure on the right person, Tom might have had his wand snapped and never returned to Hogwarts to take vengeance on them.

If he's ruling through fear while maintaining the perfect reputation facade, that's bound to create friction with whichever knight is on the outs at any particular time. Piss off enough people and at least one of them is bound to try to bite back, no matter how powerful Tom is nor how ill-advised the course of action.

If they're all so in awe of him that they wouldn't think to move against him, then why not assist him with a job or support after Hogwarts? It must pinch the purebloods to worship a lord who's working retail in the shady part of town for a pittance.

I dunno. I have issues with Tom's intelligence being very "told to the reader" rather than "shown." Whether as Tom or as Voldemort, he makes plenty of bad plans and decisions and sets up a lot of Batman gambits that work out for plot convenience as much as (or more than) the characters acting in-character. But this point in particular rankles because it could -- and should, based on the players -- fall apart so easily.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Team Fair-weather Friends - I'll teach you. Making unreliable friends

3rd King of the Beast team story

Emma's reading to some children in the castle gardens about a traveler that discovered the beauties of the world with friends. It was a nice day out; a little too nice.

One kid exclaims how he wants to be friends with a Kogyouku swordsmith while another wants to build a snowman with an Acroite princess. Emma tells the kids that the people they mentioned want to be friends with them too and the kids cheer. One girl then asks Emma who she'd want to be friends with. Emma looks through the characters in the book and considers the florist who's cheerful and cute. Two men peek from behind the sofa the kids are sitting on.

Clavis: I thought big sister Emma would say something like that. Gilbert: But I'm your best friend, aren't I? If not, I'll cry.

Why are they here?!

Boy: Papa said that if I ever meet someone named 'Clavis', I need to run! Girl: I'm not supposed to make eye contact...Thank you so much for reading the picture book to us, big sister!

Aaand the kids are off. Clavis certainly has a reputation. Now then, how's Emma going to get out of this? In that moment, she hears footsteps and sees Sariel, Luke, and Jin. Sariel had just seen the kids running away and was wondering what happened. But now he understands. Luke can't believe the two are bothering Emma again. Jin tells them that they need to stop or else Emma's going to hate them. The sight of the three of them brings some relief to Emma.

Clavis says there's nothing to worry about since he's just toeing the line. He then asks if they're all together because Luke was skipping out on lessons again. Jin replies that Luke tried, but it's hard to go against Sariel. Luke says he's going to run next time.

Sariel: Put the same level of enthusiasm into your studies. Still, it's hard to catch Prince Luke every time. Gilbert: Can't help being old. Clavis: You are too... Gilbert: I heard that.. Clavis: Hey, don’t jab me with your cane. Gilbert: Hehe, does it hurt?

The way Gilbert's enjoying this kind of scares Emma. But anyway, she's glad that Sariel and the others are here. She could've been roped into something terrible.

Jin asks why the three of them are together and Gilbert answers that Emma was reading a picture book to children. He and Clavis were listening in from behind the sofa. Sariel calls them creeps. Luke asks Emma about the picture book. It's a an adventure book about a traveler that makes friends in various countries, and in the end, they band together to defeat a demon king. The guys comment on how it's a traveler that fighting and not a warrior. Meanwhile, Luke thinks this setting's too brutal. Jin agrees, but being able to make friends with people from various countries is nice. It'd make kids interested in other countries. Emma mentions that the traveler's kind and friendly so they're able to make a lot of friends. Being able to broaden your horizons is nice and she's love to be able to make many friends like the traveler does.

Clavis agrees that it takes a lot of courage to make friends, especially if it's someone that you really want to be friends with. Wearing a proud smile, he adds that he'll teach her a good technique how to make friends since she's so shy. Sariel corrects "good" to "bad". Luke agrees. Emma too, internally. But... Gilbert finishes the thought for her. But she still wants to know, doesn't she? Jin wonders if Emma's become used to Clavis' mischief. Sariel says that once you get used to Clavis' mischief, you notice that it's a daily occurence. He hates it. Clavis can't be stopped.

So what is Clavis' bright idea?

Dig a pit

Lure the other person into the pit

Pretend that you were just passing by and reach down to help

Rinse, repeat, and you'll get 10 friends in a month. He speaks from experience. As expected from Clavis. Luke says that's too much work. However, since Clavis is always digging pits, it's not something that takes him that long to do. But he does admit that it's a blind spot. Gilbert adds that Emma's not strong enough. Emma tries to see the bright side of the technique though it sounds like a rejection. According to Jin, his methods have been the same since he was a kid. He pats Clavis' shoulder.

Jin: It's not too late to make friends the adult way. Clavis: And what about you?

Jin's method's normal. Just share a meal and a drink with someone. Emma thinks it's a brilliant idea and Sariel agrees. Where'd he get the idea from? Clavis says that method of making yourself look good means digging your own grave. Luke comments on how the method's used to hit on women the friends introduce to Jin.

Jin: Emma's unimpressed look's more heartbreaking than the others' cold ones. Clavis: Unfortunately you're back to becoming the enemy of women.

Luke has a question. Are friends really that necessary? Everyone else stares at him in silence. Luke continues on saying that it's not like you're going to die if you don't have any and you shouldn't force yourself to make them. He's fine not having any and doesn't find it necessary.

Sariel: Kids these days sure are so philosophical. Luke: I'm not a kid. Clavis: Am I not your friend, Luke? I'm going to cry, you know. Luke: *sighs* You're my superior. Moreover, I don't want a friend that digs pits every day. Jin: So blunt. Gilbert: Hehe, a pity that only one thought that the other was a friend.

Gilbert then makes an offhand on how Luke's grown. Emma asks if he said something and he brushes it off as nothing. Moving on, now that we've heard from the youngest, Jin wants to hear from the oldest.

Sariel: I assume you're talking about me. Clavis: Naturally. You are the oldest here. Or are you friendless like Luke? Sariel: No, I'm actually one of those that finds friends necessary. Jin: It's surprising to hear the court devil say that. Clavis: So the devil's a son of man after all.

Sariel asks for clarification on what kind of "friends" they were talking about when discussing making friends. A friend of the public or—Jin interrupts and asks if he thought they were talking about making bad friends. Sariel's just making sure. Some of his friends are just for business purposes. Oh, Jin covered Emma's ears so she didn't hear anything Sariel said. Jin apologizes, it's just that Sariel's method's too provocative for her to hear. Sariel tells the prince not to cause misunderstandings. Clavis asks if Jin's wrong though. Everyone but Gilbert shakes his head. Emma's eyes drift to Sariel in curiosity but he just smiles at her. She gives up on finding out what he had said. If Jin had to cover her ears then it must have been provocative.

For some reason, Emma feels someone staring at her. She turns her head and sees Gilbert smiling at her with a look that says "it's my turn, isn't it?" Damn, their eyes met. Surely his method's even more thrilling to hear about than Sariel's. But she can't ignore him since they made eye contact already. His gaze continues to exude pressure and Emma gives in.

For Gilbert, he has some magic words he can teach Emma to easily make friends that will never betray her. Jin tells Emma that she's going to regret asking. She's already feeling a bit of that. Gilbert politely takes a hold of her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. He smiles and tilts his head.

Gilbert: Be my friend of I'll ruin your country.

Luke doesn't think it's funny. Sariel thinks the dark joke's refreshing. Apparently Gilbert's said this to Clavis before and Jin says that just makes it worse. Gilbert thanks them. But he wonders if people will think that Emma's just joking if she says that line since she's so cute. For Emma, she can say that her friend Gilbert will ruin their country instead. Now she can easily make 100 friends. Emma doesn't think she'll be able to build a good relationship this way. Gilbert says that she could always threaten them again.

Clavis: What's the magic phrase, world's calamity? Luke: Making friends is such a pain. Sariel: It's a difference in values, so you don't have to think that Prince Gilbert's method is right, Prince Luke. Jin: More of trait. I don't recommend copying it. Gilbert: Huh? Indirectly slandering me? How mean, you're going to make the world's calamity mad. Luke: Sounds like you're enjoying yourself.

Well! It looks like everyone has their own way of making friends. Emma's learned a lot. Clavis asks Emma if she's trying to end the conversation there because it's becoming troublesome. Gilbert tells the cruel bunny that she was the one that started this. Clavis was the one that actually started this, Emma thinks. She can't bring herself to say it though.

Jin turns the question to Emma. He'd like to know how she makes friends. For Emma, she usually becomes friends with people who have shared interests. She gets nervous and finds it hard to initiate if she doesn't know what she and the person have in common. Luke feels bad for Emma getting nervous over something like that.

Emma: "Something like that"?!

Jin agrees with Luke. Sariel thinks Emma's way is heartwarming. Clavis bets that Emma was honest and cute as a child. Gilbert wishes he could've met Emma back then. He would've tried everything to be her friend.

Is it just Emma's imagination or are they treating her like a child? She gave an honest answer and the reactions are making her blush in embarrassment. Unable to stand it any longer, Emma gets up to leave but Clavis puts his hand on her shoulder and sits her back down. He looks at her with a suspicious smile and asks if she'd demonstrate her method. Emma refuses. Gilbert wants to see too, even though they're already friends. Luke tells the duo that they're bothering Emma too much again. Jin adds that she's really going to hate them now.

Clavis: It's fine. Gilbert: No problem at all.

Sariel wonders where all this confidence comes from. Emma wants to know as well. Regardless, things are getting too out of control. Does she really need give a demonstration? Emma can only force a smile as her surroundings get even more noisy. But it's like friends to get so lively over exchanges like this, she thinks. She wonders if she'd become friends with them if they had met under different circumstances. As she thinks about it, somehow this loveliness doesn't feel so bad anymore.

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

Six Facts About Henry David Thoreau's Walden

By Matt Reimann. Aug 9, 2016.

On August 9, 1854, Henry David Thoreau published his book, Walden; or, Life in the Woods. It narrates—with an ample serving of artistic intervention—its author’s experiment to live divorced from society, in an effort to uncover better ways of living. “I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life,” he writes in a manifesto-like paragraph of Walden, “to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms.” Even in such a brief passage, one can observe the rapturous prose and vigor of perception that Thoreau imbues his writing with. Let’s take the book’s anniversary as occasion to reflect on a few details you might not know about this transcendentalist classic.

It was published under one of history’s least inventive pseudonyms

Henry David Thoreau was actually born David Henry Thoreau. See the distinction? It’s not certain why the name-change made much of a difference to him, and all we’re left to do is make inferences based on character. (Perhaps his priority for self-reliance compelled him to have control over his name, but that, like anything, is guesswork.)

The land was owned by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Thoreau’s friend and mentor owned the woodland on Walden Pond where the author was to live and write for over two years. The pair arranged a sort of friendly trade: Thoreau was permitted to build his house on the property, and Emerson was repaid by Thoreau’s labor in efforts like clearing the land. Thoreau, who was not financially well-off at the time, benefited from the aid of friends and family during his tenure at Walden Pond.

Thoreau wasn’t exactly “roughing it”

As is a favorite point of Thoreau’s critics, the wild life he lived was rather tame. His mother famously helped him out with laundry and food over the two years, and he had guests over regularly. And the land itself was not the rugged frontier. “In reality,” writes Kathryn Schulz in the New Yorker, “Walden Pond in 1845 was scarcely more off the grid, relative to contemporaneous society, than Prospect Park is today. The commuter train to Boston ran along its southwest side; in summer the place swarmed with picnickers and swimmers, while in winter it was frequented by ice cutters and skaters.” She adds that it would take Thoreau but twenty minutes to walk from his cabin to his family home, were we to confuse the writer with Robinson Crusoe.

Writing the book took longer than his stay at the cabin

In the book, Thoreau presents the narrative within the time frame of a year. His actual stay, however, was a little over two years and two months. It took nearly ten years to write and to publish Walden, which was written and still reads like a collection of essays, on subjects as varying as “Economy,” “Sounds,” and working in a bean field.

Walden was published to a mild reception.

The book had a print run of 2,000 copies, which took five years to sell out. His friends, like Emerson, advocated for his work, which helped his book become the classic it is today. While not impressive, such a sales figure was by no means unusual in the American nineteenth century, which had a way of being rather unreliable to the writer. By comparison, Leaves of Grass’ first print run sold only about 795 copies, while great writers like Herman Melville died with heavy debts and little acclaim.

Its author is having a hot moment right now

Spurred by an anti-Thoreau essay* in the New Yorker about nine months back, the author of Walden has been having his legacy and reputation vigorously argued over. Kathryn Shulz, writer of the New Yorker piece, considers Thoreau’s writing adolescent, misanthropic, presumptuous, and selfish. She frames her argument like a voice of radical dissent, but readers have been leveling against Thoreau’s value for a while. It was Garrison Keillor who said Thoreau was:

A sorehead and loner whose clunky line about marching to your own drummer has found its way into a million graduation speeches. Thoreau tried to make a virtue out of lack of rhythm. He said that the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. Okay, but how did he know? He didn’t talk to that many people. He wrote elegantly about independence and forgot to thank his mom for doing his laundry.

Indeed, Thoreau’s legacy is not at its strongest. His name is eroding from classroom syllabi, and while his influences encompass the likes of Tolstoy, Proust, and Dickinson, his partisans seem much rarer today.

Many, such as Donovan Hohn**, argue that we have gone far enough in resisting and lampooning Thoreau. Instead, we should return to him (both sides, pro and contra, agree that Thoreau is sooner evaluated than read) and appreciate his first-rate prose, his questions about a life well-lived, and his reflections on nature and the environment, which in the era of climate change, are as vital to us now as they have ever been.

[ca-suffit]

re: “probably not as violent an act as Louis made it out to be in season 1”

do you guys realise that Sam has literally said he knows what will happen in the rest of the show? like, full story arcs mapped out by the writers. he’s not downplaying anything, he’s called Lestat an abuser countless times, said he needed to die and so on.

but he simply knows more than us about what’s to come. we still haven’t had any Lestat pov and we know everyone’s memories/retellings on this show are unreliable… I don’t understand why this quote is so controversial. he’s not diminishing the horror of that scene but questioning Louis’ recollection of it… and the very show is encouraging us to question Louis’ whole narrative

he IS downplaying it. he's not providing any racial context to the scene and showing he's got awareness of anything. being the white guy who plays the white character who beat the shit out of his black partner and saying "well it wasn't *that* bad actually" is a shitty thing to do. if the show lessens any of the fight too it's a shitty thing to do. louis' memories are being fucked with, he's still being abused, but the fandom is stuck on worrying about lestat's reputation above all. give me a break.

ppl excuse things rly easily bcuz ppl are ready for lestat to not be *as guilty* of anything as we've seen and also bcuz lestat is white. calling a black character a liar about his own abuse (as he's still being abused by a current partner fucking with his memories) is a big fucking choice to make. of course sam knows more of the story than we do but he could also learn when to not make any comment at all.

it's controversial bcuz it's a harmful thing to fucking say. the audience constantly looking for holes in louis story bcuz he's a black man now and u need to prove the white character's innocence is racist af. this was not how the fandom existed before the show aired and changed louis' race.