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quransurahverses · 2 months ago

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17:18

Whoever desires this fleeting world ˹alone˺, We hasten in it whatever We please to whoever We will; then We destine them for Hell, where they will burn, condemned and rejected.

17:19

But whoever desires the Hereafter and strives for it accordingly, and is a ˹true˺ believer, it is they whose striving will be appreciated.

17:20

We provide both the former and the latter from the bounty of your Lord. And the bounty of your Lord can never be withheld.

17:21

See how We have favoured some over others ˹in this life˺, but the Hereafter is certainly far greater in rank and in favour.

17:22

Do not set up any other god with Allah, or you will end up condemned, abandoned.

17:23

For your Lord has decreed that you worship none but Him. And honour your parents. If one or both of them reach old age in your care, never say to them ˹even˺ ‘ugh,’ nor yell at them. Rather, address them respectfully.

17:24

And be humble with them out of mercy, and pray, “My Lord! Be merciful to them as they raised me when I was young.”

17:25

Your Lord knows best what is within yourselves. If you are righteous, He is certainly All-Forgiving to those who ˹constantly˺ turn to Him.

17:26

Give to close relatives their due, as well as the poor and ˹needy˺ travellers. And do not spend wastefully.

17:27

Surely the wasteful are ˹like˺ brothers to the devils. And the Devil is ever ungrateful to his Lord.

17:28

But if you must turn them down ˹because you lack the means to give˺—while hoping to receive your Lord’s bounty—then ˹at least˺ give them a kind word.

17:29

Do not be so tight-fisted, for you will be blameworthy; nor so open-handed, for you will end up in poverty.

17:30

Surely your Lord gives abundant or limited provisions to whoever He wills. He is certainly All-Aware, All-Seeing of His servants.

17:31

Do not kill your children for fear of poverty. We provide for them and for you. Surely killing them is a heinous sin.

17:32

Do not go near adultery. It is truly a shameful deed and an evil way.

17:33

Do not take a ˹human˺ life—made sacred by Allah—except with ˹legal˺ right.[1] If anyone is killed unjustly, We have given their heirs[2] the authority, but do not let them exceed limits in retaliation,[3] for they are already supported ˹by law˺.

[1] Here the word wali, “heir,” actually means awliyâ' or “heirs,” which includes the closest relatives, both men and women.

[2] By killing anyone other than the killer, or killing others with the killer.

[3] For example, in retaliation for intentional killing through legal channels.

17:34

Do not come near the wealth of the orphan—unless intending to enhance it—until they attain maturity. Honour ˹your˺ pledges, for you will surely be accountable for them.

17:35

Give in full when you measure, and weigh with an even balance. That is fairest and best in the end.

17:36

Do not follow what you have no ˹sure˺ knowledge of. Indeed, all will be called to account for ˹their˺ hearing, sight, and intellect.

17:37

And do not walk on the earth arrogantly. Surely you can neither crack the earth nor stretch to the height of the mountains.

17:38

The violation of any of these ˹commandments˺ is detestable to your Lord.

17:39

This is part of the wisdom which your Lord has revealed to you ˹O Prophet˺. And do not set up any other god with Allah ˹O humanity˺, or you will be cast into Hell, blameworthy, rejected.

17:40

Has your Lord favoured you ˹pagans˺ with sons and taken angels as ˹His˺ daughters?[1] You are truly making an outrageous claim.

[1] Some pagans had the belief that the angels are the daughters of Allah.

17:41

We have surely varied ˹the signs˺ in this Quran so perhaps they may be mindful, but it only drives them farther away.

17:42

Say, ˹O Prophet,˺ “Had there been other gods besides Him—as they claim—then they would have certainly sought a way to ˹challenge˺ the Lord of the Throne.”

17:43

Glorified and Highly Exalted is He above what they claim!

17:44

The seven heavens, the earth, and all those in them glorify Him. There is not a single thing that does not glorify His praises—but you ˹simply˺ cannot comprehend their glorification. He is indeed Most Forbearing, All-Forgiving.

17:45

When you ˹O Prophet˺ recite the Quran, We put a hidden barrier between you and those who do not believe in the Hereafter.

17:46

We have cast veils over their hearts—leaving them unable to comprehend it—and deafness in their ears. And when you mention your Lord alone in the Quran, they turn their backs in aversion.

17:47

We know best how they listen to your recitation and what they say privately—when the wrongdoers say, “You would only be following a bewitched man.”

17:48

See how they call you names ˹O Prophet˺![1] So they have gone so ˹far˺ astray that they cannot find the ˹Right˺ Way.

[1] They rejected you as a magician, a poet, a fabricator, and madman.

17:49

And they say ˹mockingly˺, “When we are reduced to bones and ashes, will we really be raised as a new creation?”

17:50

Say, ˹O Prophet,˺ “˹Yes, even if˺ you become stones, or iron,

17:51

or whatever you think is harder to bring to life!” Then they will ask ˹you˺, “Who will bring us back ˹to life˺?” Say, “The One Who created you the first time.” They will then shake their heads at you and ask, “When will that be?” Say, “Perhaps it is soon!”

17:52

On the Day He will call you, you will ˹instantly˺ respond by praising Him,[1] thinking you had remained ˹in the world˺ only for a little while.

[1] When everyone is raised from the dead, they will all praise Allah, regardless of what they had believed in this life.

17:53

Tell My ˹believing˺ servants to say only what is best. Satan certainly seeks to sow discord among them. Satan is indeed a sworn enemy to humankind.

17:54

Your Lord knows you best. He may have mercy on you if He wills, or punish you if He wills. We have not sent you ˹O Prophet˺ as a keeper over them.

17:55

Your Lord knows best all those in the heavens and the earth. And We have surely favoured some prophets above others, and to David We gave the Psalms.[1]

[1] The reason David is singled out here is because some Jewish authorities at the time of the Prophet (��) claimed that no scripture had been revealed after Moses. So this verse refutes this claim by referring to the Psalms of David.

17:56

Say, ˹O Prophet,˺ “Invoke those you claim ˹to be divine˺[1] besides Him—they do not have the power to undo harm from you or transfer it ˹to someone else˺.”

[1] i.e., Jesus, Ezra, and the angels. Idol worship is refuted in other passages such as 7:191-198 and 34:22.

17:57

˹Even˺ the closest ˹to Allah˺ of those invoked would be seeking a way to their Lord, hoping for His mercy, and fearing His punishment. Indeed, your Lord’s torment is fearsome.

17:58

There is not a ˹wicked˺ society that We will not destroy or punish with a severe torment before the Day of Judgment. That is written in the Record.

17:59

Nothing keeps Us from sending the ˹demanded˺ signs except that they had ˹already˺ been denied by earlier peoples. And We gave Thamûd the she-camel as a clear sign, but they wrongfully rejected it.[1] We only send the signs as a warning.

[1] Or they did wrong by it.

17:60

And ˹remember, O Prophet˺ when We told you, “Certainly your Lord encompasses the people.” And We have made what We brought you to see[1] as well as the cursed tree ˹mentioned˺ in the Quran[2] only as a test for the people. We keep warning them, but it only increases them greatly in defiance.

[1] The tree of Zaqqûm which grows in the depths of Hell as mentioned in 37:62-65. The pagans of Mecca used to make fun of the Prophet (ﷺ) and say, “How can a tree grow in Hell?”

[2] During the Night Journey mentioned in 17:1.

17:61

And ˹remember˺ when We said to the angels, “Prostrate before Adam,” so they all did—but not Iblîs,[1] who protested, “Should I prostrate to the one You have created from mud?”

[1] See footnote for 2:34.

17:62

Adding, “Do you see this one you honoured above me? If you delay my end until the Day of Judgment, I will certainly take hold of his descendants, except for a few.”

17:63

Allah responded, “Be gone! Whoever of them follows you, Hell will surely be the reward for all of you—an ample reward.

17:64

And incite whoever you can of them with your voice, mobilize against them all your cavalry and infantry, manipulate them in their wealth and children, and make them promises.” But Satan promises them nothing but delusion.

17:65

˹Allah added,˺ “You will truly have no authority over My ˹faithful˺ servants.” And sufficient is your Lord as a Guardian.

17:66

It is your Lord Who steers the ships for you through the sea, so that you may seek His bounty. Surely He is ever Merciful to you.

17:67

When you are touched with hardship at sea, you ˹totally˺ forget all ˹the gods˺ you ˹normally˺ invoke, except Him. But when He delivers you ˹safely˺ to shore, you turn away. Humankind is ever ungrateful.

17:68

Do you feel secure that He will not cause the land to swallow you up, or unleash upon you a storm of stones? Then you will find none to protect you.

17:69

Or do you feel secure that He will not send you back to sea once again, and send upon you a violent storm, drowning you for your denial? Then you will find none to avenge you against Us.

17:70

Indeed, We have dignified the children of Adam, carried them on land and sea, granted them good and lawful provisions, and privileged them far above many of Our creatures.

17:71

˹Beware of˺ the Day We will summon every people with their leader.[1] So whoever will be given their record in their right hand will read it ˹happily˺ and will not be wronged ˹even by the width of˺ the thread of a date stone.

[1] Other meanings include: with their record of deeds, or their prophet, or their scripture.

17:72

But whoever is blind ˹to the truth˺ in this ˹world˺ will be blind in the Hereafter, and ˹even˺ far more astray from the ˹Right˺ Way.

17:73

They definitely ˹thought they˺ were about to lure you away from what We have revealed to you ˹O Prophet˺, hoping that you would attribute something else to Us falsely—and then they would have certainly taken you as a close friend.[1]

[1] The pagans of Mecca tried in vain to dissuade the Prophet (ﷺ) from preaching the message of Islam. In some instances they offered to worship his Allah if he agreed to bow to their idols, and some even offered him riches and positions if he just stopped preaching in the city.

17:74

Had We not made you steadfast, you probably would have inclined to them a little,

17:75

and then We truly would have made you taste double ˹punishment˺ both in this life and after death, and you would have found no helper against Us.

17:76

They were about to intimidate you to drive you out of the land ˹of Mecca˺, but then they would not have survived after you ˹had left˺ except for a little while.

17:77

˹This has been˺ Our way with the messengers We sent before you. And you will never find any change in Our way.

17:78

Observe the prayer from the decline of the sun until the darkness of the night and the dawn prayer, for certainly the dawn prayer is witnessed ˹by angels˺.[1]

[1] This verse gives the times of the five daily prayers: the decline of the sun refers to the afternoon and late afternoon prayers, the darkness of night refers to sunset and late evening prayers, then the dawn prayer.

17:79

And rise at ˹the last˺ part of the night, offering additional prayers, so your Lord may raise you to a station of praise.[1]

[1] This refers to the time when the Prophet (ﷺ) will make intercession (shafâ’ah) on the Day of Judgment.

17:80

And say, “My Lord! Grant me an honourable entrance and an honourable exit[1] and give me a supporting authority from Yourself.”

[1] This verse was revealed when the Prophet (ﷺ) received the order to emigrate from Mecca to Medina. So here he (ﷺ) is praying to leave Mecca honourably and enter Medina honourably. It can also apply to any worldly activity that a person starts and finishes.

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phoeebsbuffay · 2 years ago

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Imagine “Star Wars” especial edition: crossovers.

Wars of Blood. [3/?]

Imagine: you are the daughter of a powerful king whose realm is located in a not so far away galaxy. You have an older brother who died, and thus you are the king’s only heir. The council is obliged to acknowledge your inheritance, but upon the king’s death, you are found usurped by your half-brother—the king’s son by his second married. You need to fight back, but you also need more allies. Hence, you contact Anakin Skywalker, your old friend from the days where you almost became Jedi yourself. However, when he comes to you, he finds you a very different person… Will your friendship remain in these turbulent days? What will be of you?

Warnings 1: this is based on “House of the Dragon”s plot. For those who might not be aware with the upcoming “Game of Thrones”’s spin-off, it’s about the dispute of the iron throne between Rhaenyra Targaryen and her half brother, Aegon II. Some names are changedand some other details are different too, but the story is basically the same (hence the crossover).

Warnings 2: lots of drama, smut and violence.

***

Your POV. Present days.

The war against the usurpers, dividing the sides in Greens and Blacks, bleeds Westeros. A famous quote is heard: together we stand, divided we fall.

You have little time to dwell in quotes like this. You sought for peace, but now you were given war. So far however, there had been only misfortunes.

Betrayals. The loss of those you loved, you cared for. Aegon was kept safe, but Viserys was lost, and Rhaegar was killed by one of Aemond’s forces.

He was just a small boy.

You are driven by madness, consumed by grief. You fly, you burn, you fight. You and your dragon are one. You act cold. You have to mask your sentiments. There had been little time for joy. Your skin is turned to iron.

The betrayals, the death of so many dragons by the people who were manipulated by some crazy priest. You howled in anger. Darkness is about to take the best of you.

“We need allies.” Daemon tells you. He and you become political partners, but that is all. There’s little affection between the two of you. “Perhaps this is the moment where you should bring the Jedi Order to our cause.”

You hesitate. Because you spent a considerable time of your life amongst the Jedis, you are not inclined to involve those peaceful people. Especially when you have a feeling of how Anakin might react if he knows all you’ve been through. The son you have with him, for similar reasons, must have his identity preserved. You do not wish to inflict the pain to neither him nor Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“It is that, or we die”, says Daemon. “We have no other choice. Y/N, we are about to lose this war. Desperate moments…” he pauses, locking gazes with you; somehow he knows you are different.”…request desperate measures.”

“You are right”, you concede. “I will ask them for your help.”

Daemon nods, he too standing.

“I’ll see if I can persuade the Greyjoys to side with us and stop sacking Lannisport. I think they might know where our boy might be.”

You choke your tears. You have to be strong. You nod your head and watch him disappear out of your sight. It is when you look into the dispositive you brought from Coruscante and finally use it.

It doesn’t take a long time before Obi-Wan picks up, rather surprisingly.

“Oh my, hello there. To what do I owe the pleasure for you contacting us, my dear Y/N?”

You try to control your sentiments, but your voice comes out almost rusk.

“Obi-Wan, I need your help. I’m about to lose this war.”

***

Anakin’s POV.

“You have to check your emotions, for Maker’s sake”, Obi-Wan tells Anakin once they enter the ship with the clones that respond to the authority of the Senate and the Chancellor permitted to aid house Targaryen’s cause. “We are moving to a different territory where winged reptiles spit fire! We must not die by any chance!”

“I don’t intend to die, Master”, he tells his master, already moved by anxiety.

Though he understands why you came after Obi-Wan first, Anakin could not help feeling he was being left aside. Yet, such thinking is forcibly dismissed when considering all your are going through.

Obi-Wan told Anakin about the chaos that Westeros fell upon because some nobles broke the vow upon which they swore fealty to you. Because most of them refused to be your subjects and crown you their queen, you now struggle for it. But it appears that you are losing this war.

Anakin remembers the trait of pride had always been there in you. How often were both of you reprehended for being so proud by Obi-Wan?

“There’s nothing wrong in looking for help”, he recollects the words. “In fact it’s the very humane thing to do.”

But for long years you refused to bend your knee to a possible defeat, never admitting this possibility, less so to request aid from a foreigner institution. There are moments Anakin fears for you. He thinks you are probably emotionally exhausted for a never ending war, and only Maker knows what you were going through.

Anakin remembers the single night the two of you spent together, the beauty of your features highlighted by the moon light, your smile… His heart parts in two upon remembering your vows: you’d love him for good.

But you are married and have your family, though unbeknownst to him the countless losses that threat your sanity. Anakin never had a strong wish to be pulled by your side and comfort you. He knows by now your husband is too cold for someone who is every inch the daughter of flames. This fact itself he is so familiar with makes his skin tingle.

It is when he notices Obi-Wan’s sudden change in his demeanor that Anakin realizes he’s been too much stuck in the past.

“What’s it? You know something, don’t you?”

Obi-Wan hesitates. It can’t be good. Anakin, however, insists:

“Tell me, what’s it?”

“I fear we may be losing her, Anakin. The disturbance in the Force is too much to ignore the presence of Sith amongst us.”

Anakin is appalled by the mere suggestion of Sith working in the war you’ve been waging for years.

“No”, he says firmly. “I am not giving up on her. Neither should you, Obi-Wan.”

His master gives a merciful look at Anakin.

“I pray you are right about this, Anakin. I pray so.”

Neither of you speak until you land.

***

Your POV.

Because Daemon insists to be present to receive the Jedis, you are forced to receive the two men you were once so strongly attached with nothing more than cordiality.

You sense Anakin’s hurt gaze lingering in you as you lead the two inside Dragonstone. As much as it pains you seeing him suffering for you, you cannot be yourself right now.

Since the day you were usurped during the moment that should be filled with grace and remarkable which was when you gave life to you and Anakin’s product of your love story, you haven’t been able to be yourself.

“My lords”, you turn at them once you are all situated at the room once occupied by Aegon the Conqueror. “I lament that these are the circumstances we now meet. How I wish it happened in better ones.”

“Your Grace”, it’s Obi-Wan who addresses you by your title; yet it sounds bittersweet when he uses it. “We more than anyone understand that this is out of the control. However, because your family has close ties to the Jedi Order, it is only natural that we help you.”

Daemon, brute as he might appear to some, interrupts the friendly banter, bearing little patience to what he calls “matters of court”. So he says:

“Master Kenobi, did you come with men we require? This bloody is taking longer than necessary.” He does not conceal his bad mood. Under Anakin’s gaze you feel he’s trying to understand your feelings. You find yourself shielding your mind, much to his dismay.

If Obi-Wan is offended by your husband’s rather peculiar manners, he does not show. In fact, the always diplomatic Jedi seems to be used in dealing with men of the kind.

“As wars often do. The Republic of which we are peacekeepers has been tangled in a long war, so we understand your situation more than you might think, Your Grace. Indeed we brought a force of…” he gives the exact number of clones that came with them.

Daemon raises his eyebrows and turns his eyes to you, looking delighted with what the new situation presents. But somehow you don’t share the sentiment. You’ve grown suspicious and paranoid. It wasn’t about trusting in the Jedis and their men—if it was the case, you’d have not asked for their help—-, but it’s about… the countless losses you were forced going through.

There are moments you distance yourself emotionally of those around you, leaving your vessel…to enter your dragon’s mind. It usually happens when you are sleeping. You feel so wild and free flying, away of mundane concerns. You wish you could give up.

But you will not. This is the last hope, your last chance. You nod at Daemon.

“We better waste no time. Let us plan.”

On the table, it is possible to see the seven kingdoms. You let Daemon instruct the Jedis on the realm’s geography. After a while, you say:

“The main battle must happen on the skies. I’ll fly with Syrax and will battle my brother in the front. You, on the other hand, must fight Aemond.” Then you hesitate and the iron mask you wear trembles when you say: “Have you found anything about Viserys?”

Daemon and you share a pained look that leave the Jedis uncomfortable. Not only because the topic was shifted to a more personal one, but because they sensed your fear. Worse, how much your personal losses and all the betrayals you’ve faced in these years affected on you.

Perhaps it is moved by the disturbance they feel in you that Anakin suggests:

“If I may say so, Your Graces, I don’t think it’s wise to risk yourselves in such a deadly flight. You have heirs but you are still the heads of the cause. The wisest thing I would do, if I were in your positions, should bring the fight to the terrace where the vantage is great.”

“Your suggestion is a good one, Master Skywalker”, says Daemon. “But these men we speak of are also the key to our victories. You surely must’ve heard about the saying about cutting the head of the body and it’ll no longer work. So we intend to turn the Greens into corpses.”

The creepy smile on his lips is not well received by the Jedis, you notice that, even though they mask it well.

“I understand you mean well, my lords, but in truth we must think straight: whether it happens on the skies or close to the men, the combat is inevitable.”

Once you decide it, then what comes next is pure strategy. You opt for the classic divide and conquer. It takes no more than two hours before all is settled. Daemon decides to meet the men so Obi-Wan offers the lead. For your security, Anakin stays with you.

The two of you are finally alone.

“Y/N…”, Anakin speaks, searching for your eyes. You somehow find safer to look down at the table rather than to meet his. He comes to where you are, eventually making you look at him. “What have you become? What happened to you?”

You know he is worried for you, about the continuously temptation you’ve been called by the dark side. At times, it’s true, it was the only comfort you had.

“I’m still me, Anakin”, but your voice sounds hollow even to your ears. You know you lie. So you look up at the ceiling and sigh. “I’m hurting.”

And it was when you feel tears coming. He pulls you against his chest.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you. I’ve dreamed about you and honestly… how could you marry that prince? Have you actually paid attention to his mannerisms?”

You chuckle lightly, feeling the sense of possessiveness that has always been irradiated by Anakin. You look up at him again, and you raise your hand to touch his face, gently stroking his scars.

“An arrangement that I was hardly consulted to. It is what it is. He’s the father of my children”, and when you remember them, you burst into tears.

Anakin Is, admittedly, startled by how you break down to the point where you shake violently against his embrace, resulting in you searching for air. He has to sit you down.

“What happened? You are not talking to me!” He exclaims, frustrated but just as anguished as you.

“I’ve lost my baby! My boy!” You sobbed. “Two, in fact. I…”

And in between sobs, you manage to tell Anakin all about the personal losses. He sees that the darkness in you is, in fact, the mirror to all the pain you’ve been going through. All the sole grievances, all the anger, the fear… he knows because he feels the same. He’s been feeling more inclined to it since you left and you feel that too.

“We will fix this”, he says it, when looking at you.

“I want revenge”, you say angrily and for a moment the lilac in your irises flirts with the yellow of the Sith. “I want every traitor dead, Anakin! I hate them!”

You stand then, staying away from him. Anakin feels it, desolated. He now understands what his master had told him earlier. Did he lose you?

You then turn at him, regretting for pushing him away. Anakin comes at you, sensing your conflict. He pulls you at him and says:

“You don’t have to go through this yourself, Y/nickname.”

You come to weep again.

“I don’t know who to trust, Ani. I’m all by myself. My husband despises me. Am I so difficult to love?”

He engulfs you in a protective embrace. It feels like home again. He presses a kiss on top of your head, now understanding you.

“You are not. They don’t understand you like I do.” Anakin tells you as he rubs your back up and down. “They know nothing of you. But it matters little. You’ll be their queen, Y/N. I feel it in my heart.”

His words smooth your heavy heart. It’s all you need. The two of you are silent for a moment before you say:

“I’ve missed you, Ani.” You part the embrace to look into his eyes and make sure he understands you. “There was never a day that went by that I didn’t think of you.”

You don’t wait for a response. You want to make the last remains of his doubts gone. So you surprise by kissing his lips, eager for his touch, famine for his love.

***

Anakin’s POV.

He is intoxicated by your smell and your presence. Like last time, you are quick in taking the reins in making clear what you want. Anakin complies to you, how could he not?

He kisses you like he misses you, fearful of losing you again. Your lips collide again and again, each tongue pursuing to dominate the other. All the while you are put to lie down over the table. It’s not comfortable, but you are unable to think straight.

Anakin pulls you closer, spreading your legs as he leans forward to kiss your neck, his hands roaming around your body, but his fingers concentrate in fingering you. Today, it’s everything but gentle. As if you both cared.

He ruins you, he wants it. You go wilder when he raises the skirts of your gown and replaces his fingers for his mouth. You struggle not to moan too loud. You are desperate, you are hungry, you are in need of Anakin.

The Jedi knows it. He feels you. Whatever your souls are made of, darkness and light bind you together. You see it in his lustful eyes when he crawls back to you, thrusting you harder, completely unannounced.

“Shush, my love. Watch your volume”, he says between his gritted teeth. He too struggles with it.

It’s forbidden. It should happen but fornicating never felt so good. Not when he dominates you entirely, his hand around your neck ever so softly.

“Fuck…” Anakin groans before kissing your lips.

You arch your back and adjust your hips as the thrusts faster. You are now partially sitting on the table, and how surprised you are when he takes you by your legs, lifts you and presses you against the wall. All the while fucking you.

You are a mess. You forget who you are, your responsibilities. And when you come undone, Anakin is pleased. But he does not let you go until he comes inside you and you feel his seed right into you…and slipping to your legs. When he puts you down at least, you are breathless and holding on to support: are you able for walk?

Anakin smirks down at you when seeing how he ruined you, the queen of a country plagued by civil war. How he dominates the fire there is in you. Better yet, how he succeeded where your husband clearly failed.

As you adjusted your hair and your gown, Anakin kisses your neck, smiling when making you sigh. You seem so light, as if all darkness left you.

“I love you, Ani.” You tell him, melting into his embrace.

“And I, you, my queen.”

It’s when he notices there’s something you want to tell him. Anakin waits, but hopes you are not dismissing your physical encounter as one night stand. However, he’s rather surprised when you tell something completely different:

“Would you like to meet your son, Anakin Skywalker?”

(To be continue… it’s longer than I planned!)

#star wars #imagine Star Wars #star wars imagine #Anakin Skywalker #Darth Vader #Anakin Skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #House of the Dragon #Game of Thrones #house targaryen #Targaryen dynasty #Rhaenyra Targaryen #daemon Targaryen #team black

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ironwoman359 · 3 years ago

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This is probably not the best place to ask, but you’re also a Christian woman too. I was wondering what you thought about what the Bible says about women and how we must submit to husbands and some other stuff that has me (a potential ace) Christain woman kind of terrified. I would go to my church but social anxiety and my church is pretty conservative. I don’t want to think that we’re just second rate citizens with this. Um…that’s all. You don’t have to answer. Love your Tumblr. It’s one of the main ones I look at. Thanks for countless enjoyment!

— — —

(I’m responding on the submission and not the ask because the ask refused to post properly, I think it was too long for Tumblr’s fancy)

So I know you just asked for my thoughts and not a biblical interpretation lesson, but I didn’t spend 3 months writing an exegesis in college for me to never use those skills again, so buckle up for something of a long answer! (literally, this is almost 3 thousand words, so....sorry about that) *rubs hands together* The thing we need to take into consideration when reading the bible is Interpretation; any truly honest biblical scholar would tell you it is a mistake to take every word in the bible at its literal face value, ESPECIALLY since most of us are reading translations of scripture, not the original ancient hebrew/greek/aramaic/whatever else. So when interpreting scripture, we must consider these things:

Author (Who wrote it?)

Audience (Who was it written for?)

Context (What is written around it?)

So the verses you’re referencing are Ephesians 5:22-23, and in the NIV, they read as follows:

22 Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. 23 For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. 24 Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.

Isolated from author, audience, and context, they sound pretty sexist, don’t they? And male authority figures have used these verses as justification for the oppression of women for centuries, just as white men used the passage only a few verses away, Ephesians 6:5, as justification for the oppression and ownership of black people (Slaves, obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ). So let’s look at each of the points above in regards to Ephesians 5 and 6. First, who wrote it? Sometimes that can be a tricky question to answer, but in this case, it’s actually very easy (though there is still a bit of fuzziness/debate). Traditionally, Ephesians is one of the Apostle Paul’s letters to the early church. Specifically, to the body of believers in Ephesus, a Greek city that was a part of the Roman Empire at the time. According to two different study bibles I have, the letter of Ephesians was not addressing any particular problem that the church in Ephesus had (as was often the case with Paul’s letters), but was meant as an encouragement of faith and to increase his readers’ understanding of what it meant to be a follower of Christ. So now what about the Context? Why are the verses at the end of chapter 5 and beginning of chapter 6 so damning to our modern sensibilities? To answer that, we must look at the passages both in context to the verses around them, and in historical and cultural context (which is where 1 & 2 come into play again). Going back to the beginning of chapter 4, which is subtitled “Unity in the Body of Christ” (and remember, these subtitles and groupings were come up with LONG after they were written; we grouped sections together in a way we thought was most logical, which honestly for a book as short as Ephesians I would argue is barely even necessary), we can see that the letter from chapter 4 onward is about living a Holy and Godly life. Chapter 4 urges us to be “completely humble and gentle, be patient, bearing with one another in love” and warns us against living “as the Gentiles* do, in the futility of their thinking.” *Gentiles in this case meaning not neccesarily all non-Jews, but non-believers. AKA, we should live like Jesus lived, WWJD and all that jazz. If the Holy Spirit is in our hearts and our relationship with God is at the forefront of our lives, then that should show clearly in our actions. The very first verse of chapter 5 reads “Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” Chapters 5 and 6 especially are meant to act as a sort of guide for how a follower of Christ should act. There’s some stuff about obscenity, greed, sexual impurity, 5:15 sums it up pretty well basically, “Be very careful, then, how you live- not as unwise but as wise,” and then we reach the all important verse. Ephesians 5:21, “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” That’s a full sentence, just that there. Submit to one another. The following three sections are all subsections of this point: one for Wives submitting to Husbands, one for Children submitting to Parents, and one for Slaves submitting to Masters. But when looking at all of these, bad shepherds (ie, racist, sexist assholes) like to ignore that first bit, submit to one another, just as they like to ignore 5:28, which says “husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself;” or they ignore 6:4 which says “Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord;” and they ignore 6:9, “Masters, treat your slaves in the same way. Do not threaten them, since you know that he who is both their Master and yours is in heaven, and there is no favoritism with him.” I do highly encourage you to read chapters 4, 5, and 6 in full, or at least start at 4:17, which is where Paul starts talking about “Living as Children of Light,” because it makes the intent of these apparently damning verses much more clear. Paul is stating that as Christians, we should treat everyone around us with honor and respect. According to one of my study bibles, the grammar of the original Greek suggests that the “submission” involved in all three sections is intended to be mutual submission, and is to come from a filling of the Holy Spirit. However, to be quite frank, Paul still Lived In A Society. A highly structured, patriarchal society, in which all members of a household (women, children, slaves) were expected to submit to the patriarchal head of that household. Male children until they reached adulthood, Slaves until they were freed (remember that, while by no means a purely morally good thing, the system of Roman Slavery was VASTLY DIFFERENT from the Atlantic Slave Trade that men later used this passage to justify existing), and women, unfortunately, for their whole lives. In another one of his letters, what is now the book of Galatians, Paul says in chapter 3 verse 27-29 that “You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.” This would have been radical at the time. Paul is promising all people of all genders and classes that, in the eyes of God, they are Equal, One, and all “sons,” meaning that they all have a right to the Inheritance of the Father (remember, at this time and in this culture women did not get any inheritance, and younger sons got significantly less than the firstborn. Paul assures the believers that they ALL are equal receivers of the Promises of God). But this equality that Paul speaks of was, in his eyes, a spiritual equality. He was not particularly concerned with overthrowing the earthly patriarchal society that subjugated women and lower classes, but rather instructed all members of that society who also were Believers to submit equally to one another out of love and respect, for they were all Equal in God’s eyes and would be Equal in heaven. This is why he both tells women to submit to and obey their husbands, but also husbands to love, cherish, and care for their wives. Children, obey your parents, but Fathers, don’t be dicks to your kids. Slaves should obey their masters (slavery was much more like a job that you weren’t allowed to quit until your boss said so) but Masters shouldn’t abuse their slaves. There are Societal Authorities, and Paul is telling his readers “look you can’t just go around not respecting those Authorities, but also hey, if you’re the Authority? That’s not a free pass to be an asshole.” As one of my study bibles puts it, “Paul counseled all believers to submit to one another by choice…this kind of mutual submission preserves order and harmony in the family while it increases love and respect among family members.” Paul is basically saying “it’s better for everyone if we all get along, and remember that Christ had a servant’s heart, and intentionally lowered himself for us, so we should do the same for each other.” And while a patriarchal class system is still super sucky for like 80% of the people involved, at least it’s a whole lot more bearable if everyone involved is being a Nice, Good Member of that Society. You mentioned being worried about being treated like a “second rate citizen.” The fact of the matter is that when this was written, women were second rate citizens; that is the context in which Paul is writing. And while I firmly believe that that was wrong, in every sense of the word, Paul wasn’t especially concerned about challenging that aspect of society. Priority one was “Spread the Gospel” and Priority two was “Don’t Get Killed while Spreading the Gospel.” Speaking of Paul, let’s talk a little more about Saul of Tarsus, shall we? In all literary analysis, it is important to examine the author’s beliefs and what biases may have made their way into the work. And while we believe the bible to be a Holy Book, it can and should be subject to the same rules of literary analysis as non-religious texts. First, you must ask yourself, what do you believe about the bible? There are four general ways of looking at it (which are called Theories of Inspiration).

The bible is the Divine Word of God, dictated word for word across centuries directly to its human authors by God Himself.

The bible is the Divine Word of God, written across centuries by men Inspired by the Holy Spirit. While they are writing in their own words, this Inspiration means that the bible is Wholly Perfect with no errors.

The bible is the Divine Word of God, written across centuries by men Inspired by the Holy Spirit. However, because they are imperfect, fallible men, there is a possibility of errors in the text, both in the account of events that happened and in the teaching therein.

The bible is a collection of accounts written by men, with no Divine Intervention from God. It is not Holy, God’s Word, or Infallible.

I was raised to believe theory 2, but now I personally believe theory 3. And since I’m the author of this analysis, it is through the lens and bias of theory 3 that I now present my next point: Paul was sexist. I don’t think he was maliciously so (see again, Galatians 3, and the statement in Ephesians 5 that men should honor, cherish, and care for their wives), but he was a product of his time who had ingrained ideas about women and their place in society. This does not A) mean he was right about how women should act OR B) mean that we should toss out everything he had to say, about women or otherwise, because he was Problematic. Most biblical authors were, in fact, Problematic. Either by our modern standards, due to the time in which they lived, OR by the standards of their own time, because God liked to use Imperfect People (we’re all imperfect, but He liked particularly imperfect people) in His plans. David was an adulterer and murderer. Paul happily sent dozens of Christians to their deaths. Peter was hotheaded and super prejudiced against Gentiles and Samaritans. And most of them were, in one way or another, sexist, racist, and homophobic. These biases then found their way, intentionally or not, into their writings, and then other racist, sexist, homophobic men used those writings to justify systemic oppression of anyone who was not like them. Oppression that is not Christlike. So where does that leave us, in our 21st century application of scripture to our daily lives? We must examine how it was to be read at the time (which we have done), and then see what we can apply from it to our own lives. For myself in my marriage, I look again to the original grammar of Ephesians 5, that indicates the submission is to be mutual. I “submit” to my husband, and he “submits” to me. In other words, our relationship is built on Trust, Clear Communication, and Respect for one another. Sometimes we have to compromise, and I have to put aside my own desires for his sake, or he must set aside his own desires for my sake. It is a willingness to listen to one another, to approach conflicts with an open mind, to consider each other’s feelings before we speak. It is an equal, mutual submission based on love for each other, which doesn’t contradict what Paul says at all. God created all people to be equal. Humans are stupid sometimes and try to insist that we know better, try to create hierarchies and use the bible to try and justify that, but that doesn’t mean those humans are right. If your church is trying to make you feel less than because of your gender, or if you date somebody who pushes TradWife rhetoric and tries to use Ephesians as their justification, then you Run, and feel justified in doing so. (Especially if they also try to use Paul’s words to tell you why you owe your partner sex; see again, Paul was not only sexist but also lived in a patriarchal time when women were second class citizens that had very specific expectations placed on them AND he wasn’t even in a relationship himself, forgive me if I take his advice on my sex life with a grain of salt. Without doing this whole process again, a good modern reading of “don’t deprive one another” is “don’t use sex as a weapon in your relationship/withhold it for bs reasons when you’re mad at each other, etc. Like all other relationship things, sex (or a lack thereof) with your spouse should be based on mutual trust, communication, and love, not petty arguments or the standards of others.)

Trust me, as an ace woman myself, I totally get the fear. I’ve felt it myself, in the past. But God’s intentions for you are not that you become a doormat or servant to a man. If a romantic relationship (or any other partnership) is part of His plan for you, then the bible clearly states, both in Ephesians and elsewhere, that it should be one built on Love and Trust, not Subjugation and Servitude.

I hope this helped you, and again, sorry it was so long XD. Have an amazing day! <3

#christianity #biblical analysis #religion #anti trad wife #ephesians 5 #ace things #taylor talks #for a loooong time

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goodqueenaly · 3 years ago

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I've just started my re-read of Fire & Blood and would love to hear your thoughts on the contents of Deria's letter to Aegon the Conqueror. What do you think Nymor's terms were that made Aegon's hands bleed and give him cause to fly to Dragonstone? A father's plea, a list of dead lords, and an assassination threat from the Faceless Men don't make much sense. I'm wondering if it has something to do with Rhaenys' death/body, but I'm confused on the 3 year gap of her supposed death. Thanks!

To be clear, Aegon's hand bled because he was gripping the still-sharp blades of the Iron Throne: per Yandel, "Aegon read it [i.e. the letter] upon the Iron Throne, and men say that when he rose, his hand was bleeding, so hard had he clenched it".

Anyway, it's clear that by gripping the Iron Throne so hard (despite having every reason to know, as its creator, that the Iron Throne was made of real swords that could and would cut him) as he read the letter Aegon was deeply emotionally affected by whatever the letter said. One of the very few people Aegon seemed to deeply care for was his sister-wife Rhaenys - the woman he had daringly, even shockingly wed for desire even as he married Visenya for duty, the woman he spent 10 times the amount of nights with compared to Visenya, the mother of his heir. Indeed, not only did Aegon command (and actively participate in) two years of unmitigated, horrific destruction to Dorne in the wake of Rhaenys' death, but he was also reluctant to grant Dorne peace without submission because, among other reasons, that "would be tantamount to saying that his beloved sister Rhaenys had died in vain". Whatever was in that letter was, I think, something that was hitting Aegon squarely in the feelings.

So I tend to think that one of Yandel's suggestions - that "Nymor reveal[ed] that Rhaenys lived still, broken and mutilated, and that he would end her suffering if Aegon ended hostilities" - is the correct one. It fits with the accounts recorded by both Yandel and Gyldayn, that "claim the queen survived her dragon's fall, only to die a slow death by torment in the dungeons of the Ullers". It fits with Aegon's emotional reaction - not only gripping the Iron Throne, but thereafter going to Dragonstone, "the isle that smelled of sulfur and brimstone and the salt sea ... [that] he loved the best", wanting to go to a place where he had been happy (and, of course, happy with Rhaenys, where they had both grown up and wed). It fits with Aegon's initial reluctance to grant peace without submission, only for him to agree to an "eternal peace" with Dorne almost immediately after reading the letter: to continue the war would be to exacerbate and prolong the torture of his beloved sister-wife, a fate worse than her "d[ying] in vain". It fits with one of GRRM's favorite themes, duty versus love: Aegon clearly felt that he owed it to his vassals to continue the war - Gyldayn notes that "Aegon knew the Reach, the stormlands, and the marches had suffered grievously during the fighting, and would neither forgive nor forget" - and yet he decided to, as Aegon believed, majorly piss off all of these vassals, because his personal love for Rhaenys outweighed his larger sense of duty to the realm.

Unfortunately, or not, this is one of those moments that GRRM clearly intended to be an open-ended mystery. Far from resolving the issue in F&B (which he used to clarify or fill in other unclear or missing details from TWOIAF), the author only added even more possibilities regarding the letter, with only some overlap between that book and TWOIAF; indeed, he even had Gyldayn remark that "no man will truly ever know" the answer. I also don't really see this becoming a plot point or otherwise referenced in the main novels (or D&E, for that matter); even if we're to suppose that, say, the knowledge of the letter's contents was passed on through the Martell generations (since it certainly doesn't seem to have been by Aegon to his descendants), what would be the point of, say, Arianne bringing it up - just to remind the very individual she is looking to marry and become his queen that there was old bad blood three centuries ago between her ancestors and his (and they are still his ancestors even if he is a Blackfyre descendant)? In that sense, I feel like whatever you think is the answer to the mystery of the Dornish Letter is the answer, for you; this is a space for headcanon, where any individual reader gets to fill in the blanks on their own.

#asoiaf meta #the dornish letter #twoiaf #aegon i targaryen #fire and blood volume 1

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 3 years ago

Text

New York High Rise {3}

Series summary; What does Steve think of what just happened? Well, not only will his next client get to know but also a dear friend of the mob boss.

Pairing: mob!Steve x mob!reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 3/5

Word; 6.2k

Warnings; canon type violence, death, anything you could expect from a mafia!au

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: I just want to warn anyone, this chapter revolve around Steve and contains graphic scenes so if anyone feel like they may get triggered, I have now warned you. If you choose to read anyways it is YOUR choice.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Steve was fuming. He could practically feel the steam rising from the top of his head. This time, compared to earlier, it wasn't because of the feverish warmth inside the club. Nor the sunny season's air outside. It was because of the folder resting on the table.

The Canine boss could still hear the echoing slap the orderly stacked papers had done when landing on the table. Even your words reverberated in his head like an annoying tune he couldn't help but mutely sing in his mind.

This was not how he'd thought this meeting would go.

Steve had planned to get his will through, to expand his empire from Brooklyn to the most successful part of New York, Manhattan, your territory. But no. You'd decided to be as stubborn as a mule and as stuck up as the bureaucrats that he needed to handle in exclusive deals.

Now he understood why so many said your empire wasn't the usual kind, rather something new. You'd built your syndicate from the best, or worst in regard of how the Canine for the moment saw you, of two worlds.

"Bitch", you were long gone, so the growled curse aimed at you went unheard. However, the walls around Steve caught the profanity he uttered whilst snagging the folder from the table and pursued to head out of the room.

Only the guards stationed outside the corridor leading to the conference room was still in the club. Yet, the Canine boss paid them no mind as he stalked out of the private area, making them scramble to follow him. The rest of his party, even those previously undercover, must have either retreated for the night or waited outside. Concerning how Steve himself hadn't left yet, he suspected at least his most trusted team was waiting by the car.

Passing through the lobby, the mob boss frightened some of the staff lingering about. Not only thanks to the authority he always carried himself with but also his visible darkened features. However, Steve's attention didn't stray to the people following him with wary eyes. Instead, he looked straight forward, focusing on his guards where they lounged around the black Chrysler he'd arrived with a few hours earlier.

Seemingly, they had enough of an engaging conversation that they shared some laughs. But that changed the moment Steve stepped through the door a bouncer held open for him.

Usually, the Canine boss' hard exterior dissolved somewhat among his men, seeing how they'd become good comrades. Although now, when the dark-blonde man came out of the club looking like he could kill someone, their easy smiles and carefree stance immediately smartened up. Backs straightened and jaws clenched upon seeing the fury Steve not only emitted with a scowl but his whole body.

"How did it go?" One of the guards questioned, more out of courtesy than curiosity, concerning it was clear how it went. As suspected, he got nothing more than a glare from Steve, seeing how his anger hadn't flickered out the slightest, only heightened when feeling how his fingers clutched the folder in his hand even tighter. Your folder with your contract.

"Where's Barnes?" Some flinched by his bark of a question.

"He's still inside...", the rest of the answer fell on deaf ears as the blonde rounded the car, not caring too much where his head bodyguard was for the moment, only that he would hurry up to finish whatever he dealt with.

"As soon as he's back, we go", the driver, who had noticed the Canine boss and stepped out of the vehicle to hold open the door for him, didn't even get the chance to do what he intended. Steve all but tore open the backseat door and climbed into the car. Leaving the chauffeur to stand there and look at his boss in perplexity, as the Canine didn't more than touch the black leather seat before he slammed the door shut again.

That Steven had a temper everyone in his vicinity knew. But how he now acted reached not only a new level but contrasted heavily to how you'd appeared.

You'd left about ten minutes ago, looking indifferent to how everyone in Steven's patrol had seen you when first entering the designated conference room. That guard of yours had led you to the car parked mere ten feet from their own boss'. There, your chauffeur had greeted you with a smile and a few quiet words none besides you were meant to hear. Neither was your response, that likewise was accompanied with a smile, able to be distinguished.

As you stepped into your transport, none of the men trying to read your expressions noted anything more than a similar politeness Steve could show them once in their company. However, when comparing it to the state of their own boss once he exited, it was clear that the meeting didn't favour the Canine boss, but rather the Feline. And though none who had accompanied Steven knew what the two of you'd discussed concerning the meeting had been a closed-door discussion, they knew their boss hadn't brought anything with him earlier. So when spotting the portfolio that the mob boss had held in his hand, it only sealed the deal further.

That was why none of the guards nor the chauffeur intruded on the solitude Steve had sought inside the car, merely waiting for the right-hand man of the Canine boss to return so they could head to their next stop.

And it was good none did either, seeing how Steve mulled over everything that had happened with curses leaving him every five seconds. Additionally, anyone who would've opened the opposite backseat door would have got your folder smack in the forehead, seeing how the blonde man had thrown it as harshly and as far away from himself that he could, once in his own confinement.

He didn't need to hold the damned contract you'd offered him, even less open and study it, to know he would read it in your annoying voice. And that aggravated Steve even more.

It annoyed him that your voice echoed as a constant reminder in his mind. It annoyed him that you'd prepared a contract, which so obviously cried you hadn't even come here to listen to him in the first place. It annoyed him to such a fucking degree that you'd played him by a mere act of forced courtesy rather than a gentlemen move, to use your own words, that it felt like he could just tear the contract to shreds.

Still, he didn't.

The blonde man seethed, turning his head to look at the folder. 'If you don't sign it and have it delivered to me, I know you've declined my offer and this war will be ended in another way.' He knew you were serious about that, so perhaps that was why he hadn't left it behind in the conference room. Nonetheless, it had taken a great effort for Steve to push away every ounce of pride in his body to grab ahold of it. And when he finally held the stiff cartoon folder, it had almost felt like it burned him like some crucifix. No, it burned like a sign of defeat.

Joseph Rogers would never have done it, never admitted when he was defeated.

At the thought of his father, Steve's hand fisted where it rested on the armrest dividing the two seats in the back of the car. What would he say? He probably wouldn't have said anything, just walked out as you had done to him. A vibration deep in his chest made a low sound leave him at the realisation you actually played the game his father always had and Steve himself only thought he had.

Fittingly, or unfittingly in his own mind, the door connected to the other seat opened with a click to interrupt the abusive thoughts of his father.

Although pulled out of his mind, Steve didn't glance to see whoever plucked the folder occupying the seat beside him before they climbed in themselves. There was only one person that first and foremost would dare to be in his presence right now. On top of that, also knew he was the only one who didn't need to repeatedly ask for permission to join him.

Not even when he saw the person shift in his peripheral, from simply holding the folder to actually waving it slightly to catch his attention, clearly wanting to ask him a question, did Steve look towards them. Although, he did speak up.

"Not a word, Barnes", the Canine boss raised his fist, so it was levelled with his cheek as he said this. By now, his nails had dug into his palm and there was no question small crescent moons would be dented in his skin.

"Maybe I should've stayed, after all", the sentence was followed by a chuckle, the sound making Steve snap to watch the man sitting beside him.

"Didn't I say you should keep your mouth shut?" The blonde stared at the brunette. Who, unlike earlier, now had pulled his hair into a low bun in the nape of his neck. However, no matter the fury the Canine's cold blue eyes conveyed, Bucky Barnes saw no real threat.

"You often do, but you have so far not put a bullet in me", Bucky shrugged with an easy smile.

The mob boss remained silent as his head bodyguard leaned forwards far enough to knock on the wall beside the still open windshield that could separate the driver from those in the back seat.

"Close it up", Steve honestly thought the brunette would've given the chauffeur, who now had taken his place behind the wheel, directions of where to go. Gauging by his act, he must have done it before getting into the car. Hence, the driver did nothing but nod to signify he heard what the guard said before closing the visor, leaving whatever Steve knew Bucky wanted to talk to him about for only him to hear.

He felt the car rock to a gentle start, the road underneath the vehicle sending small vibrations throughout Steve. Tilting his head, he saw the scenery blur as he didn't concentrate on anything specific they drow by.

Despite the initial silence of the car ride, the blonde saw how the man beside him shifted, angling his body just slightly more his way. The minimal change of where Bucky attention laid told the mob boss he would initiate a conversation. And as on a cue, Bucky spoke. "So what happened? 'Cause clearly you scared half of your squad enough for them to want to take a week off".

He didn't redirect his gaze, fearing that his now fisted hand would connect with his friend's jaw if he didn't control himself. What happened? The question taunted in his mind, enough so that Steve clenched his jaw. Everything that shouldn't have happened.

"You have the folder", he gritted out, continuing to aimlessly stare out of the window, now concentrating on how the scenery changed from the narrow streets the nightclub had been located in to instead manifest the glittering sunset reflecting off the water in East River.

Beside him, he felt how Bucky shifted and shortly afterwards came the sounds of papers starting to be turned over. The head guard sat silent as he read the contract that not even the Canine had looked through.

The lack of verbal confirmation of Steve's evident loss in this meeting spurred the blonde, whether he wanted or not, to glance at the brunette.

Bucky's brows were furrowed. Consequently causing the grooves on his forehead, which always appeared when he pondered something, to become extremely visible. His features remained this way as his eyes scanned over the rows stitching together the contract. Then, for some reason, they changed.

From an expression showing the brunette tried to fathom the situation that had made Steve considerably harsher to anyone in his close vicinity, his face now fell and a smirk began to toy with his lips. On top of this, he let out a low whistle turning to the next page.

The smouldering anger in Steve's chest flared up to the same intensity it had burned with earlier. Back when he had sat in silence and glared at the folder inside the club. He ground his teeth together, feeling how they caught in each other's pointy edges.

"What?" He demanded to know what the man all of a sudden found so entertaining. Yet, the answer didn't come immediately. Instead, Bucky sat there with the same expression pinning his face while finishing the document in his grip.

Not until the brunette had closed the binder and waved it similarly to how he'd done when entering the car did his gaze meet Steve's. His eyes, also blue but slightly greyer in colour, was crinkled in the corners. The amusement, or whatever caused the mob boss nostrils to flare in agitation, was only further displayed by the shake of his head.

"She's good".

"What?" Bucky almost hadn't finished his nearly wordless reply before Steve barked his requirement of an explanation.

"Whether you want to admit it aloud or not, I know you think about it in that analysing brain of yours", the brunette begun, pushing the folder underneath the mob boss' arm on the armrest. Steve, who followed the act with disdain, shuffled in his seat directly afterwards so he wouldn't be touching the contract which you formerly had been carrying around.

Watching the blonde's action, Bucky only continued, now even less worried his words might be wrong and evoke further anger from the Canine. Of course, he might still get mad, though Bucky knew he at least was right. "She is good, Steve. If not shown by this contract, which I suggest you read, then at least how she's gotten to you".

The blonde man elected to ignore the last part of his bodyguard's sentence. Hence, only questioning the first part. "Why should I read it?"

Arrogance was a trait many shared once someone stepped on their pride, but never had Bucky witnessed such amounts of it exhibited by the Canine boss. His nose twitched in the corner as if the mere thought of opening the papers offended him. The mistrust in his voice showed he didn't believe what just was advised to him, nor that the words of you being competent could be true. All signs of denial, a damaged pride.

"Sometimes I wondered how you even could've come this far to rebuild your father's empire when you're so stubborn to see the truth at times", the comment made Steve cock his head.

"Is that a threat or a call for resignation, I hear?" Bucky simply rolled his eyes and turned to fully face the man, now giving him his undivided attention.

"I may have been here from the day you called me and asked me to join your plans, but believe me, working outside this world for some time, especially in the field I was in, you learn to see who is good at their job and not".

Although Bucky had known Steve ever since they were kids, essentially because their fathers had been partners when the Canine empire was worth more than its own power in gold, the two had fallen out of the regular touch they'd kept after Joseph had passed. Steve had remained close to his mother. While Bucky returned to have both his feet in the ordinary world.

His name had never been brought into the discussion of conviction or any kind of youth crimes, essentially thanks to his father never being proven guilty of the few charges raised against him. Another favour his old man thanked the former Canine boss for. For Bucky, it made things easy to find live his life as if he didn't know what went on underneath the city he walked in.

He went to school, took a degree in law. Which his father before passing as well, considered humorous. Though, Bucky didn't start working directly even if offered jobs. He'd been young and not really knowing which direction he would go. He had no mothers footsteps to follow, seeing how she'd passed before he even had a memory of her. His father shoes still felt too big to fill, so he decided to follow a path he felt natural.

Bucky joined the army. Not more than a few years and two trips. Nevertheless, it was easy pocket change concerning two factors. His father had urged him to take the same martial art classes as Steve's father had done to him. He'd also lived with one foot in the syndicate and the other outside during his whole childhood. The concept of order, planning and warfare wasn't anything alarmingly new to him.

Then he'd begun to explore more, starting to step into the low tier position as an intern at different firms. It was easy to get in, concerning his degree and quickly, he gained enough working experience to get a promotion. His former boss at the advocate company may have thought Bucky was a natural talent or a genius from school. But, it was all thanks to his upbringing he possed the requirements a higher position demanded.

It's mainly thanks to his years working within the judiciary before reconnecting with Steve and began working as his head guard Bucky knows you fall into the group of people who are good at what you do.

The blonde had sat silent this whole time, never breaking away from Bucky's stare. It made the brunette believe that his friend would settle whatever resent he had towards you personally and at least read through the arrangement you assembled for the greater of his empire. Apparently, he was wrong.

"But now you're not working with that anymore", Bucky actually let out a low scoff of annoyance.

"I'm working as a head personal guard for someone I'm swaying on keeping alive at the moment, I know. And I do this because we both know I'm better at the combat part than you, ever since we were kids", despite the jab, it was the mention of how the man, despite being roughly the same size as Steve, always had been slightly better at fighting then himself that made the blonde bite his inner cheek. "I also know that I'm still damn good at what used to be my former profession. Which, you actually also should know concerning you never shoo me out of the room when discussing with your official advisors of the plans to come", when he finally ended the point he wanted to prove, he cocked a brow at Steve, who now had furrowed his brows.

Bucky saw the ire still lingering in the blondes' eyes, making them go cold rather than warm. Nevertheless, he said nothing. The Canine boss simply gave the folder, which hadn't moved from its settlement no matter how much the two men gently had rocked with the turns of the car, one last glare before he altogether turned away as much as his seat let him.

The head bodyguard was close to letting the comment of how similar the mob boss, who'd made a name for himself lately of being indifferent to everything standing in his way, was to a rebellious child. Yet, in the end, he didn't, knowing the car ride would become even more atrocious than it already was set to be.

As suspected, the whole drive from the club to the luxurious hotel, where the Canine boss' next stop was, went by in complete silence. And, when they finally pulled up outside the building, the car had almost not stopped before Steve opened the door without a word. The brunette couldn't but let out a huff and follow the man out of the vehicle.

As Bucky tracked a few steps behind the blonde mob boss, he nodded to a few of the other bodyguards to follow as well. Whatever he might have remarked about considering to keep Steve alive was very much said as a dig at the moment to remind the man he might be written as his subordinate, but he was true to nature working side by side with him. After all, Steven was his friend and Bucky didn't desire to get his blood on his hands.

When the little party of Canines neared the entrance, both men stationed on each side of the doors opened them without further ado. Either they thought Steve looked like someone fitting to live here, or they could've been paid to do so. The brunette figured it was the latter concerning the overall safety measures, not only this hotel but the district in general upheld. Although, he didn't question it way too much as he now concentrated on the slightly denser crowd of people in the lobby.

Not only did they blend in quite well, concerning the people living at this hotel was flanked by at least two bodyguards each. Bucky also noticed how some of the former rigidity in Steve's shoulder lessened as he weaved through the lobby.

Though anyone else may find it excellent that the physical aspect of the blondes former irritation trickled off, it unsettled Bucky even further. Thus, having grown up with Steve, he knew that the silent seething anger was worse than the outgoing one. This, in other words, didn't bode particularly well.

However, even though the brunette had a raising suspicion, along with fear, that this visit the mob boss had decided to do after his meeting with you wouldn't have a good outcome, he had no chance to voice his worry. Essentially because the elevator they'd taken to reach the floor they were heading to now stopped.

Bucky was first to exit the elevator. Checking that the coast was clear before looking back to the Canine boss. He tried making the blonde meet his gaze, now seriously doubting if Steve was fit to meet the partner he'd had an escalating problem with the past weeks. Yet, the blue-eyed man kept his attention straight forward and didn't even spare his childhood friend a glance.

A thousand things were running through Steve's mind as he headed down the corridor, spotting the door his business partner was on the other side of.

He knew Bucky tried gaining his attention with the repetitive looks he threw his way. His most entrusted bodyguard and friend could read him like an open book. Thus knowing the silent facade that he'd put up was just that, a facade. Still, he continued to ignore him as he'd done ever since their conversation was over half an hour ago.

As the party stopped before the door, Steve decided to give the inclining nod to one of his other guards to step forwards and knock on the door.

Following three rapid knocks, a call of 'no cleaning' followed by a similar set of knockings later, footsteps could be heard near the door from the other side. A few seconds after, the door swung open, revealing a man currently trying to fasten his cufflinks.

"I said I didn't...". Even though the brunette's eyes had been cast down as he'd began to speak, the second they flickered up to watch, what the man must have assumed would be a hotel maid but rather was the Canine mob boss, he trailed off in his sentence.

"Good day Mr Jefferson", if the man's body hadn't already gone rigid, his shoulders bounced up even closer to his ears after Steve's greeting.

In a hurried attempt to smarten up, he completed his attempt of fastening the jewellery pin.

"Mr Rogers", he breathed out almost shakily while pulling a hand through his hair, some of the strands sticking to his scalp while others simply fell forwards once more. "Why do I owe the pleasure?"

Without answering, Steve stepped forwards, forcing the man to open the door wider.

As he walked into the pad, the blonde gazed around it uninterestingly. It was lavish. Probably like most rooms were in the hotel.

"I'm here to talk with you". Steve answered his associates question the second he heard the door closed. Taking the liberty, he sat down in the couch group occupying a vaster portion of the entry room's space. "Sit", with a wave of his hand, the Canine motioned to the sitting place at the other side of the dark oak table.

Jefferson, who glanced warily at the guards that had stationed themselves around the room -one by the window, another two directly behind Steve and the last lingering by the door out to the corridor- had no other choice than to follow the mob boss' directions.

Sitting down at the edge of the seat, he swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"How's business going?" The mob boss asked as he leaned against the couches backrest. One arm was slung over the ridge, fingers tapping against the material, while his other hand rested on his thigh.

"Bussines is going well".

"Good, always nice to hear companies you invest in are going strong", Steve hummed, noticing the minimal shift Jefferson did as he said this. "How's my money going?"

"Ah... t-that question is a little more complicated...".

Even though the brunette continued to ramble about all the different reasons his payments were late, or not even that, non-existing, the Canine boss didn't listen. He knew he was being screwed over by the man opposite him. He'd gotten the information weeks ago that the CEO of the company he's worked with since the beginning of the year wanted to change sides.

At first, it had been more of a rumour and he hadn't been able to dig up where Jefferson's company was heading. Then it became clear they would switch partners to one of the other godfather's around New York. However, even if Steve thought he didn't like how they tried doing so in the shadows while still upholding their deal, the worst thing was when he got to know who they shifted their alliance to. You.

Seeing how much unfavourable publicity you'd given his empire in the last few months was aggravating. However, listening to the man talking his ear off as if Steve hadn't already figured why exactly fifteen percentages of the profit capital was rolling into your account instead of his was the last drop.

Without even noticing it himself, Steve's hand that had rested upon his thigh raised and were tucked into his suit.

The metal handle he gripped wasn't cold anymore, not after having rested so close to his heart for over an hour. Nor did it get cooled down as he hastily pulled it out of its holster and aimed it at the man opposite him.

"I don't like rats, Landon", the use of the man's first name rather than surname would've made him quiet if the gun aimed his way already hadn't silenced him. "Pray you don't get reborn as one in your next life as well".

On the firearm, a silencer was mounted. So the characteristic bang sounded much more like a pop. Therefore, the noise of the gun was even less intimidating than the ricochet. However, neither of the telltale signs of a shot made Steve flinch, not even as he watched the bullet penetrate the space in-between his former associate's eyes, did he react.

As the mob boss stood, Jefferson's upper body slumped forward, hitting the table with a heavy thud and ugly clap as his head was the first thing that connected with it. No tears were trickling down his cheeks. Only a red streak that steadily created a near-invisible puddle on the mahogany table.

"Steve!" The silence and peace Steve found in watching the body was cut short by Bucky's voice.

The Canine glanced to his side, regarding how his head bodyguard rounded the couch and stood before him with one single step.

"What the fuck was that?" The brunette exclaimed, hand motioning to the dead body.

If any other person than Bucky would've done the same thing in this instance, they either would've ended up joining peaceful Mr Jefferson, or they wouldn't work within the Canine empire anymore. However, concerning that it now was his childhood friend staring at him in disbelief, Steve made sure none of the options was carried through.

"Problem-solving", Steve answered, about to take a step forwards but were stopped with a hand planting itself on his chest. He looked down before looking up with a cocked eyebrow.

"That ain't how we solve shit!"

"Not we, but I", Steve said, gripping Bucky's wrist, ripping it away from him. "You see, now both our problems are solved. He doesn't need to fear his cover being blown and I don't need to lose more money". That was all Steve said before taking a step around the brunette, whose eyes had narrowed considerably.

As most of his colleagues trailed after their boss, Bucky stayed back just a second longer, looking at the lifeless body giving a new sheen to the table whilst staining the carpet underneath. He'd known Steve had taken your conference badly and he also knew it hadn't been a good idea to have this appointment so shortly afterwards, especially when it was connected to you, but in such a different way. Still, he hadn't believed it would take this much of a turn.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Damn that fucking thing!" Steve roared, not thinking when he swept his hands over his desk. Everything from pencils, an empty coffee cup and other things crashed to the floor. However, it wasn’t solely that which now was littering the ground. The papers of your contract had flown out of the folder as well.

Staring down at the mess of shattered glass and paper from his standing position. The Canine boss felt a sneer enter his features. Ever since returning home late last night, he'd been locked inside his study. Primary because it was the place no one dared to disturb him in, but also because he didn't feel like arguing with Bucky.

He knew that after the stunt, as he knew his friend and bodyguard would label his approach to the Jefferson problem, the brunette wanted to speak with him. Yet, with the residue anger of not only a restless night, one Steve had powered through thanks to copious amounts of coffee. But also the subject now taunting him on the floor, a conversation with his right-hand man would lead nowhere.

He and Bucky didn't often get into fights, but Steve was convinced this was one of the matters that could force such a confrontation. He'd still not gathered his bearings enough to admit that he needed to yield. Because that was what he would need to do.

The mob boss switched from watching the scattered pieces of the contract to instead stare straight into the oaken surface of his desk as he now leant on it, knuckles turning white from how strongly he held the countertop. By now, he'd read through the four-page agreement. Something that was a step in the right, or in Steve's regard wrong, direction.

He didn't want to admit it. But as Bucky had mentioned yesterday, it was a top-certified contract. He couldn't find any loopholes. No grey-zones. No area that he could play you on.

Steve knew that you would be hard to crack, but he hadn't anticipated this.

Despite knowing that you and the Felina empire had overtaken his father's grip on New York, he had underestimated you. A woman running the empire you did was so uncommon he thought you would have some weak spot regarding how you had no one else to look up to. Nor did you have any previous family connections to the underworld. Which honestly made your success even more astonishing.

Almost so much it was questionable if you had done it yourself.

Steve had assumed you hadn't. Someone else must be the brain behind the operation, simply using you as a puppet. However, it seemed he'd made a tremendous mistake by assuming just that. It wasn't anyone else running your empire. You were involved in every little part of the well-oiled machine.

Once more, the canine boss let out an irritated noise, sounding more like a growl than a harsh sigh in his own ears.

He pushed off from the countertop and, in one motion, had side-stepped his chair. Now, with the room behind him, Steve stared out of the windows lining the wall furthest from the entrance. His arms had crossed over his chest and remained there as he stared out at the bay not far away.

Ferries and other boats travelled the waters. Breaking the tension and creating small waves. If it wasn't for this, it almost would've looked like they travelled through the city. Regarding how not only New York's but also Brooklyn's dusk lightning reflected in the water.

When the Canine boss finally felt the sight before him lessened the tension in his shoulders, a knock came from the door.

If his features ever had lightened, the sound immediately beckoned a furrow to take its place. Even more so when the door opened without him having given the person on the other side permission.

He knew who it was, Bucky.

"What do you want?" Steve's voice was cold, harsh.

"I want to speak with you", instantly, the mob boss noticed how his friend's voice didn't carry that joyous tone when he spoke to him as just that, friends. Bur rather the more levelled one, the professional one.

"I won't speak about Jefferson".

"Neither is that why I'm here", glancing over his shoulder upon hearing the rustle of paper, the Canine boss saw his guard pick up the pieces of the contract from the floor. He arranged them before putting them back into the folder. Contrary to how Steve would've caused the map to give away a whack when flinging it onto his desk. Bucky's hand followed through the whole movement. His fingers even resting upon the grey folder as it laid placid on the middle of the counter.

"I'm here to talk about the real problem", Steve turned to face the brunette. He didn't say anything. Still, Bucky knew that having gotten this much attention was a sign he either was about to be shot or given a limited amount to talk.

"I know this is hard for you, Steve... actually scratch that, it is hard for everyone who's supported you. But I'll be damned if you let everything we've worked for go to waste because you don't have it in you to lose a battle in favour of winning a later war"

All of a sudden, Bucky's face twisted as an unexpected crash echoed. His fist had smashed onto the table. Enough for the countertop to rattle.

“I love to give you the most personal advice I've ever had”, he started, not even holding back his pent up frustration. “Sign that fucking contract, pal". The canine boss' blue eyes narrowed as he met the stormy grey ones of the man before him.

"Get out", Bucky clenched his jaw and straightened himself.

"I'll be waiting for the call to come and pick it up", was the last thing the brunette said before swiftly turning on his heel and heading to the door.

Steve followed his oldest friend with his eyes until the door echoes shut behind him. Even after Bucky's footsteps were long gone, did the Canine boss stare forward. He did it simply because he didn't want to let his eyes flicker down to the contract, now turned to the last page where the paper waited for his signature.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A day later, Steve still stared at the folder resting un-signed on his desk. It was out of pure spite he hadn't signed it. To keep your victory at bay.

Two days later and he felt how the clock on his wall ticked louder than before. How the voices in his head escalated from whispering to shouting at him. 'Sign that fucking contract, pal.'

Three days later and Steve felt how time was running out.

Even if he didn't want to admit it aloud. To not sign would be foolish. Sure, he had the resources to continue this war. Hence, the short extra time the meeting and his delay in signing the contract had abled him to recoup. But still, his empire was lacking a significant piece his father's syndicate had, time. He needed more time to grow but wasn't given that. So yes, he could continue this battle, but he could not win it.

Therefore the mob boss gripped the pen and pressed the ink dipped tip to the dotted line.

His signature was darker than usual. More colour bleeding onto the paper. The curves of the letters were not as smooth as regular either. Instead, straighter, pointier. Forced.

Steve didn't look at his name shining back at him once he raised the pen and put it back in its stand. Instead, Steve stood and dialled a number on his phone. One tone was all it took before the person on the other end picked up.

"Get it out of my sight, Barnes", was all he said before instantly hanging up. The call had lasted four seconds. Even so, Steve deleted it from the history of his 'latest' list.

Shoving the phone into his pockets, the blonde man stood from his chair and headed to the office doors. He didn't look back once at the folder left behind on his desk. Not even when he closed the doors behind him.

Series taglist: @njrronaldo7 @fanfic-love-show @gabycamargo22 @fckdeusername

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thyknife · 2 years ago

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This is going to be. A lot. But.

I first fell in love with your work with ‘Ghosts’ back when we had to filter through the tag manually, when hangster fics were just beginning to pop up. I didn’t realise this was yours until much later because, then, I hadn’t started to recognise author’s names but it’s one of the first hangster fics I bookmarked. And I never stopped falling in love with your writing since then.

Your imagery is always breathtaking, so arrestingly gorgeous. Your writing transports me to wherever you want to take me, it’s a whole sensory experience that always makes me feel so deeply. I love how you always weave in reverence and the sense of tethering they get from each other, makes me smile every single time I catch a like alluding to that in your fics. The way you pick apart Jake’s thoughts, capturing them heartbreakingly and devastatingly is so perfect. Jake’s sweet tooth means the world to me (as well as that whole series) to the point where I’ve written it into two of my fics as a kind of ode to you. The way you write Bradley and Jake’s love, making it seem so simple while showing it’s not, it never is with them, never easy but somehow, easy is all it is when you portray it.

I commented this in one of your fics and I’ll say it again. Your writing is glowing threads of gold in my head. That’s how I picture it. And every time I read one of your fics it’s like they’re wrapping around me and just holding me and telling me I see you.

I connect deeply with it and I really just love them all. Thank you for sharing them, for creating with so much love.

- Alex <3

I had to read this and then walk away from it and process it. And cry a bit. And then come back and read it again. And cry some more. (I’ve been crying a lot lately for myriad reasons, but that’s neither here nor there). I’m just. I’m overwhelmed by this.

Alex.

This means so much to me. I hardly even know what to say. You have my whole heart.

I don’t know if this is a universal thing for writers…but I feel like. You can work so hard to put so much care and emotion into your writing…pieces of yourself even. But when all is said and done, after countless re-reads and edits and self-critiques, you can end up feeling sort of outside of the story, disconnected from it? So I’m always worried in the end that what I share is this flat, shallow imitation of what I had intended for it to be. It really messes with my head.

I guess my point is, that all of what you said up there is…so, so comforting and reassuring and kind of you to say. Remarkably kind and thoughtful and generous and moving. Thank you so much for taking the time to say it. I’m going to try and make myself believe it, too ❤️

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transthaumaturge · 4 years ago

Text

Squirrel Girl is Super Gay for her Roommate and I Want Everyone to Know

A gay infodump of sensible length by Rachel Tikvah

ALRIGHT, SO The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl was the very first comic that I ever read regularly, back when I was looking for more stories with strong female protagonists but didn't really know why. Back then I just thought I really liked strong female characters and not that I was being gay on main, but now I know the truth. The comic had a 5-year run, and it was the first time that Squirrel Girl, AKA Doreen Green, had had her own series. She had a brief run in the mid-2000's where she was established as someone who could beat up Thanos with her bare hands well, more like squirrel hands but was mostly a joke character that happened to be incredibly buff and had indestructible plot armor. USG decided that Doreen's next major life goal would be to enroll in college to become a computer scientist, because her writer, Ryan North, is really into computer science and they basically gave him free rein over Squirrel Girl canon for five whole years. Like, a solid third of the plots are solved with some kind of computer science smarts. It’s really cool. Anyway this is Doreen in one of the gayest solo pictures I could find of her on short notice, which is also one of the variant covers from the actual series:

And this is her college roommate, Nancy Whitehead:

I'm like, 99% certain that Ryan North intended for them to end up as a couple and Disney!Marvel told him no. So he decided to make them AS GAY FOR EACH OTHER AS POSSIBLE without explicitly saying that they were a couple, and it ended up going under the radar. What follows is evidence for that claim. I’m going to put a "read more” after this so it doesn’t clutter everyone’s dashboards, but please read on if you’re interested. There’s a lot of cute gayness after this point. I’m also going to put all of the image descriptions at the end, since they take up a lot of space and I don’t want to break up the flow of the post. Finally, a quick spoiler alert for one arc in the middle of the series and a couple major plot points from the final few issues.

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES

So for a while it was just kind of hinted at that they’re in a relationship, mostly because they were basically domestic life partners for like, two whole years in-universe before the comic run ended. But it really came to a head with an arc that was ran about 2/3 of the way through the series. Some pictures of them being, like, so cute together in general and/or talking about how much they care about each other before I get to that arc, though:

Also Doreen describes her and Nancy's cat as "co-parented" in one of the last issues:

ANYWAY, THE ARC. THE HYPERTIME ARC. So one of the villains created for the Squirrel Girl run (I think they liked making weird shit canon just because they could) was a dude who went by the name "EpicCrimez". He’s a crime streamer. He livestreams his crimes to an online audience. I don't know. *Throws up hands*

He had some kind of laser gun that he built out of scavenged alien tech but didn't really know what it did, so he shot it at Doreen and Nancy for kicks. It shot them into hypertime, so suddenly the rest of the world was moving at a fraction of the pace that they were. They were moving so quickly that they were slated to live out their entire lives over the span of a single weekend if they didn't figure out how to reverse the effects. And...they did. Live out their entire lives together. For the two of them, they were the only two people in the world. There were other people, but they looked like statues unless you spent a very long time observing them. Doreen and Nancy grew old together in a world where they only had each other. This is an incredibly cute domestic scene from a little while after they found themselves in hypertime:

Gosh, I wish I could find more official art from that arc of them just living together, it was so good. But the point is, they were both old by the time that Nancy figured out how to get them out of hypertime. And it wasn't ideal. Their bio signatures were stored in the gun that EpicCrimez shot, and they could essentially "reboot" their bodies from when they were first shot and send themselves back into the regular timestream. But they wouldn't remember anything about the life that they had shared together. Nancy almost didn't want to do it. She raised the possibility of them just living out the rest of their lives together, because she didn't want to forget their life together. This is the conversation they had:

"I don't regret any of it. I don't want to lose it, and I don't want to lose us." "You're not getting rid of me that easily." Every time I look at that last picture, which took up an entire page of the comic, I start to cry. We’re seeing the final moments of two people who love each other more than anything, who were each other's entire lives, savoring their last moments together and wondering what the future holds. Sacrificing the life that they built together so that their younger selves could live a better, fuller one. Dying in each other’s arms, scared but comforted by the fact that they had each other. And then the arc ends, and they can't remember anything, so the status quo is restored. They have some paintings they made of each other while they were living together in hypertime, but they move on pretty quickly without ever knowing the significance of those lived decades. Still, it's clear in the arcs that follow and the adventures they embarked on afterward that they would die for each other. All of that continues until the end of the last arc. Their shared apartment's been blown up at this point by a supervillain who wanted to ruin Doreen’s life before eventually killing her. And in the aftermath of the fight, they're sifting through the wreckage for anything that survived (don't worry, the cat got out in time) when they find the picture that they painted of themselves during the hypertime arc:

They have a really cute conversation about how this chapter of their life is over, but they're going to be okay and they're going to build a new life together. And then Nancy basically tells Doreen that she can't live without her:

And then Doreen says something super queer-coded about how she likes the idea of the world knowing her secret identity now:

On the very last page of the comic, after all of the action is over and the series is about to end, they're talking to each other in what's supposed to be a twitter thread and Doreen asks Nancy a very thinly veiled question about whether she still wants to spend time with her now that her identity's out. She pretends it's about a class project, but it's really not about the class project. Here's how that conversation goes:

With no knowledge of what happened during the weekend when they shared their entire lives together, without ever having heard Doreen say it to her before, Nancy’s heart still knows which words to choose. "...you're not getting rid of me that easily. <3" I believe that the author of the series, Ryan North, did as much as he possibly could to portray them as a couple without saying it outright. And as the last piece of evidence to support that claim, I want to share a response he wrote in one of the series' last-ever letter columns:

"as for more Doreen and Nancy, I hope so too. A Squirrel Girl book without Nancy would feel like--like--like some sort of hypothetical "Super" "Man" book without an equally hypothetical "Lois" "Lane"!" It's easy to write off this analysis as wishful thinking, or as a misreading of the subtext. But when the author of the series says that these two characters are meant to always be together and compares them to one of the most famous couples in any comic series ever, it's clear that there's more to it than that.

Some Additional Thoughts: 1) Doreen and Nancy are both probably bisexual or pansexual, since they both expressed romantic interest in men throughout the series but they’re both clearly interested in each other too. There might be an element of demiromanticism there as well if part of the reason that they’re into each other romantically is because of how emotionally close they’ve become over the years. I want to make sure that that facet of their romantic orientations doesn’t get erased, because bi and pan folks get erased enough as it is. Neither Doreen nor Nancy are lesbians, just super-cool WLWs.

2) HERE’S WHAT THE ISSUE 50 VARIANT COVER LOOKED LIKE

That’s NOT a fun, totally straight way to pose with your platonic gal pal. They’re so incredibly cute together! I have no words! In Closing If you got this far, thank you so much for letting me talk to you about a comic that’s very important to me, and a couple in that comic that I care about very much. I spent way too long making this (six hours and counting), mostly in writing the image descriptions, and I’m very proud of my work but very tired now. Hyperfixation is a hell of a drug. If this resonated with you, please consider reblogging it so that more folks can see it. If not, even a like is nice. I’d also love to engage with people who have their own thoughts, so feel free to leave some comments in the notes if you’ve got an idea/a reaction/any additional cute Doreen/Nancy scenes that you’d like to share with me. At any rate, this post has gone on long enough and I don’t want to ask y’all to read any more than you have to. So have a great day, good morning / afternoon / night, and stay safe. Thanks again for reading! ~Rachel Tikvah, AKA @transthaumaturge Image Descriptions: Image 1: [ID: Squirrel Girl, a young woman with light skin, is posing in front of a brick wall that she seems to have crashed through, leaving a perfect outline of her body. She’s facing away but looking backwards over her shoulder at us and smiling. She’s flexing upward with her right arm and has her left fist resting on her left hip. Her sidekick, a squirrel named Tippy-Toe, is standing in the cutout she left in the wall and is making the same exact pose while wearing a light pink bow around her neck. Squirrel Girl is wearing brown lace-up boots, fur-lined hot pants over grey tights, and a brown fur-lined jacket with sleeves that come up to her forearms and a symbol of an acorn embroidered into the back. She’s also wearing a hairband with fake squirrel ears on it over short reddish-brown hair. She has a large squirrel tail coming out of her hot pants that sweeps down in a curve behind her lower legs. The illustration is drawn so that everything is bathed in the light of a sunset, and Doreen is casting shadows on the wall in front of her.] Image 2: [ID: Two frames depicting a scene between Doreen and Nancy in their college dorm room, with many cardboard boxes still not unpacked and sitting on a bare bed mattress. Nancy Whitehead is a young woman with dark brown skin and short, curly black hair. She's wearing black tights, a white dress-top, and a yellow cardigan over that. Her arms are crossed as she holds her white cat, Mew, against her chest. Doreen is wearing grey tights and a black long-sleeve shirt with a wide collar and white stripes across the chest. She's holding Tippy-Toe up to Nancy with both hands so she can see her better. The following dialogue ensues: Nancy: "A squirrel? But weren't you the one who was all about pets not being allowed in--" Doreen: "Yeah, I know. But this really interesting person I met today told me that obeying an unjust law is itself unjust." Nancy: "...You know, I was worried I'd get a weird roommate, but you're all right, Doreen Green."] Image 3: [ID: Doreen and Nancy are both sitting on a lavender-pink couch in nightclothes. Doreen has short, orange hair. She is wearing a loose-fitting grey long-sleeve shirt and steel-blue cutoff shorts; Nancy has cropped black hair. She is wearing a dark purple top with sleeves that come down to her upper arms, and loose-fitting navy-blue shorts that come down to her lower thighs. Doreen is side-hugging Nancy as she says, with an ecstatically happy smile, “Nancy, you’re the greatest. You know that, right?” Nancy gives Doreen a full smile as she responds, “I’d always suspected it, but it is nice to have it confirmed.”] Image 4: [ID: Nancy is shown from the shoulders up. She has short, curly black hair. She’s wearing large, disc-shaped gold dangle earrings, and a red jacket with prominent shoulders and a yellow collar. She’s fixing the observer with an angry, determined stare as she says, “She knows this man wouldn’t dream about betraying her, or he’d have to answer to me.”] Image 5: [ID: Doreen and Nancy are eating breakfast at the brown, circular kitchen table in their apartment. Doreen’s wearing a skin-tight athletic crop top that’s striped in black, red, white, and blue. Her arm muscles are well-defined and clearly visible as she puts a spoon in her mouth, closing her eyes as she does so. She has a bowl of cereal in front of her, and half a banana in front of that. Nancy is sitting to her left in a pink camisole top that’s also exposing her muscles, scrolling through something on her smartphone. Her hair is in a yellow fabric wrap that’s knotted on one side of her head. A cup of coffee sits in front of her. The clear blue sky is visible through the window centered on the wall behind them.] Image 6: [ID: Nancy and Doreen are facing away from the vantage point, walking towards an Empire State University campus building and holding hands with their fingers intertwined. Nancy is wearing a long knee-length grey coat and black knee-high boots, with a baby-blue side bag hanging from her left shoulder. Doreen is wearing a magenta sweatshirt with the periwinkle-lined hood down, light brown form-fitting denim pants, and black ankle-high boots, with a dark brown side bag hanging from her right shoulder. Trees and bushes hem the walkway in on either side. The building in front of them is dark red, with glass doors and a row of floor-to-ceiling windows on the second floor. Doreen is saying “...we’re just going to have to take the long way around.”] Image 7: [ID: Doreen is facing towards the vantage point and is visible from the legs up, standing in front of a pile of rubble in the background. She’s wearing high-waisted light blue shorts over black tights, and a red windbreaker with sleeves ending at her upper arms that’s opened to reveal a white t-shirt underneath. Tippy-Toe is sitting on her shoulder. There are two people facing Doreen, each slightly in frame and silhouetted in black against the light of the setting sun. Doreen is fixing them with an angry, determined expression, resting her right fist at her hip while she gesticulates with her left hand and says, “So! I don’t know about you all, but Melissa kidnapping my friend and blowing up my life and my house and almost blowing up my co-parented cat makes me feel like giving her a piece of my mind. Friends...”] Image 8: [ID: A full comic page. EpicCrimez is looking like a dork in a green and black skin-tight jumpsuit, bright red ski goggles, and a green wig cap with his brown hair sticking out the back in a mullet. He’s standing inside a jewelry store and holding up a fist of expensive gems and pearls-on-strings as holds up his smartphone and speaks into it. He’s facing off against Squirrel Girl, with her allies Koi Boi and Chipmunk Hunk on her right, and Nancy and Brain Drain on the left. The following scene ensues: EpicCrimez: “And for those of you just tuning in, welcome to another successful heist by your boy EpicCrimez, streaming live! Now with 10% more live crime action than any other streamer! Don’t forget to like and subscribe!! I know some of you in EpicCrimez Nation have been forgetting to do that lately. Not acceptable.” Squirrel Girl: “You picked the wrong small business to rob, crime-initiator! Because this mall is protected by super heroes.” Brain Drain: “HELLO” SG: “And also an unrelated civilian friend I brought along too!” Nancy: (Not looking up from her phone) “ ‘Sup.” EC: “Check it out--Squirrel Girl and her miscellaneous friends are here! It’s action you won’t find on any other channel!” SG: “Are you...streaming your robberies?” (Nancy pockets her phone) EC: “Yeah I am! For money reasons! And with you “heroes” in it, I’ll make even more!” SG: (Whispering to Nancy:) “Question: a fight scene just gets him more traffic, which lets him profit from this crime even more--so does this mean we don’t fight him?” N: (Whispering back:) “I feel like letting him go causes more harm, but I look forward to us teasing apart the moral implications of this later.” SG: “Nice.” SG: (No longer whispering:) “I’ll like and subscribe, EpicCrimez! I’ll like fighting crime, and subscribe... to a worldview wherein the strong protect the weak!” EC: “Oh my gosh, are you like wholesome Spider-Man or something??” At the bottom of the page, small text says: “Wholesome Spider-Man, Wholesome Spider-Man/Does whatever a wholesome spider can/Is he tough?/Listen bud/He’s here to hear you talk about your day and tell you it’ll all be fine while taking you out for your favorite meal for dinner because he knows you deserve it.”] Image 9: [ID: Another full comic page. Doreen and Nancy are in their apartment together, and their friends Tomas and Brian (AKA Chipmunk Hunk and Brain Drain respectively) are frozen as they look down at the machine that Nancy is on her knees in front of, working on. Nancy, barefoot, is wearing cerulean-blue athletic pants, a black long-sleeve spandex shirt without shoulders, and narrow-framed glasses. Her hair is partially covered by a yellow cloth head wrap tied on the left side, with black dreadlocks spilling out the side and back. The machine in front of her is made of dull grey metal, about a meter tall and roughly circular. Wires dangle out of a hatch that Nancy is fiddling with. Doreen is wearing a flowing, dark-purple pantsuit with wide, ankle-length legs and a halter top with the sleeves tied off at her shoulders. Her shoes are light-brown ankle boots with a horizontal gap on the bridge of each foot. Her wavy orange hair is parted in the middle and down past her shoulders. She looks incredibly cute. The following scene ensues: Doreen: “What do you think?” Nancy: “I think--come on you stupid screw--I think we’re still years away from this thing working, if it ever does. Who knew time machine construction is really hard, except of course for everyone who has attempted it?” (She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand) D: “Hah! No, I mean my new outfit.” N: (Looking up and checking her gf out:) “Doreen! You look amazing!!” D: “Liberated it from a very expensive department store uptown!” N: (Now standing) “Tony paid for it?” D: Tony will eventually discover he was kind enough to leave some expensive jewelry in trade, yes. I pinned a note to him so he knows.” N: “There really are advantages to being friends with billionaire playboy genius philanthropists.” D: “Right?!” N: (Taking Doreen’s hands in hers:) “It’s a shame we can’t take a picture of you all dolled up.” D: “Not without standing still for a few months, yeah. But I was thinking about that. I picked up something else at another store downtown. Thought maybe it could help us with that.” (Holding up a shopping bag with one hand while still holding onto Nancy’s hand with the other:) “Nancy Whitehead, I thought you and I might take up painting sometime.” At the bottom of the page, small text says: “Tony Stark moves from meeting to meeting, his body accumulating dozens of notes every second. He sighs. Stuff like this didn’t happen before he knew Doreen. But then he smiles, because after all...stuff like this didn’t happen before he knew Doreen.”] Images 10-16: [ID: Several pages worth of comic frames, posted together to depict one scene. Doreen and Nancy are now old women, likely in their seventies or eighties. Doreen has short, grey hair. She’s wearing a tan button-up waistcoat and an orange ascot, brown flats with an olive-green skirt, knee-length and softly pleated. Her tail is sticking out the back of her skirt over the top, bushy and brown but with stiffer, less-dense hair. Nancy has her grey-black hair done up in a ponytail, a mass of tight curls behind her head. She’s wearing thin oval glasses, black dress pants, black flats, and a lavender cardigan with a flower motif along the edges, open to show the yellow-orange top underneath. They’re standing in front of a completed time machine. On either side are tall pieces of machinery, and in the middle is a round, flat metal dais hooked up to everything else with snaking cables. The following scene ensues: Nancy: “So...this is it, babe. The new machine.” Doreen: “Your secret project! Nancy, it looks like you started from scratch!” N: That’s because I did. I finally realized our old machine was never going to work. Maybe if we had a few more decades, but...there’s no time. And given that our backs are to the wall, I took a risk. I disassembled the gun right down to the metal, and examined all the parts. And I did find something: a data chip. Doreen, the gun stored our bio signatures when it us.” D: “What are you saying?” N: “I’m saying my new machine won’t send us back in time, and we’ll still have lost a weekend of real time. But it will restore our bodies to normal time.” D: (Hugging Nancy tight:) “Nancy! You saved us!!” N: (Resting her hands on Doreen’s shoulders:) “Not--quite. There’s a catch, Doreen. Our bodies will make it...but we won’t. Look, Doreen...I’m an old woman. I’ve spent most of my life in hypertime. This wasn’t how I saw my life going, but...I don’t regret any of it. I don’t want to lose it, and I don’t want to lose us.” D: “I don’t understand.” N: “It’s like restoring from backup. Our bodies will be restored to how they were the moment we were first hit. But--that necessarily includes our brains, too. Everything we’ve done since we entered hypertime--our entire lives spent together...we’ll forget.” (She looks at Doreen in distress) D: “I don’t either, Nancy. You’ve been the most important person in my life. But if we do go back--we can do it again. All of it. It might not happen again quite the same way, but--well, like you say...we’ll have all the time in the world.” N: (Their faces inches apart, they both tilt their heads down and smile sadly:) “Twist my arm, why don’t you.” (They both step onto the dais holding hands, and blue energy starts to ripple around them:) “You filled up Spidey’s web-shooters before we go?” D: “Yep. Again.” N: “You and me, saving the world.” D: “Well,” (holding Nancy’s hand in both of her own) "No reason we can’t do it twice.” N: “You know, there’s a chance things could turn out differently, now that we’ll have video games to distract us. In 40 years we might decide we don’t like hanging out after all.” D: (Hugging Nancy even tighter than before as the energy from the time machine starts to envelop them, resting her face in the nape of Nancy’s neck:) “Nah. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”] Image 17: [ID: Doreen and Nancy are sifting through the charred rubble of their apartment as night starts to fall around them. Doreen is wearing faded blue jeans and a navy blue t-shirt with a Captain America star in the middle. Over top of the shirt, she’s wearing a dark reddish-brown leather vest with four metal studs at the four points of the folded-out collar. Nancy is wearing black tights and a light green long-sleeve shirt with olive-green sleeves. The front of the shirt has a picture of Cat-Thor, Cat God of Cat Thunder’s head on it. The following scene ensues: Doreen: “So I know we’re only a few hours into it, Nancy, but I think my identity being public isn’t gonna be as bad as I thought.” Nancy: “Oh?” D: “Yeah, Tony’s given me lots of tips, and it does honestly help to know that my parents are protected by a robot tree with laser eyes and my friends live in a city with the most super heroes per square mile.” N: “Most super villains too, but--Hold on. I think I found it.” (Nancy lifts a picture frame out of the wreckage, charred around the edges but otherwise no worse for wear. It has a painting inside of it of Doreen and Nancy, arm-in-arm, from hypertime. Doreen is wearing the lavender pantsuit from before, and Nancy is wearing a tight-fitting lilac dress.) “...And it looks like you and I made it through just fine.”] Images 18-19: [ID: Two later comic panels from the same scene. They’re wearing the same outfits, but Nancy’s now cradling her white cat, Mew, in the crook of her left arm while she holds onto the picture frame with her right hand. The following scene ensues: Doreen: “Come on, let’s talk about it! If we’re starting a new chapter in our lives, and we can decide what’s in it, what do you want it to contain?” Nancy: “Doreen...” D: “What are the three things you can’t live without, Nancy Whitehead?” N: (Holding up the picture so that Doreen can see it:) “Fine. If you must know, all this girl needs to be happy are cats and squirrels and knitting and computers and friends and secret tattoos and super heroes and lots and lots of love. Also food and shelter. And water. And internet.” D: “That’s more than three things.”] Image 20: [ID: Same scene as before, a single frame with a close-up on Doreen from her chest upwards. Doreen cups her chin with one of her hands and says, “Honestly--I thought about it. I really did. But I realized that where I am now, I’m safe and I’m loved and I kinda like the idea of not having to lie to people anymore, you know? Even if it is just a lie of omission. I want to share my whole self with the world. I don’t want to have to hide who I am anymore.”] Image 21: [ID: Something resembling a twitter thread, with dialogue between Nancy and Doreen stacked chronologically as horizontal boxes. Their respective names and handles are at the top of each of their comments. Nancy is Nancy W. and @sewwiththeflo, Doreen is Squirrel Girl and @unbeatablesg. The following conversation ensues: Nancy: “You think I’d leave you high and dry??” Doreen: “I think I don’t want our lateness harming your grades and therefore harming your post-secondary education or career choices and therefore harming your ENTIRE LIFE?!” “So yeah I think you should switch to someone else, real talk. I honestly don’t mind, I promise.” Nancy: “Please. If there’s one thing I know about you, about me, and about how we spend our future together, it’s this. Doreen Green...” “...you’re not getting rid of me that easily. <3″] Image 22: [ID: A paragraph of text, black text on a yellow background. “As for more Doreen and Nancy, I hope so too. A Squirrel Girl book without Nancy would feel like--like--like some sort of hypothetical “Super” “Man” book without an equally hypothetical “Lois” “Lane”!”] Image 23: [ID: A group picture of Squirrel Girl and friends sitting down on a grassy hill and watching the sunset together. Kraven the Hunter is in the foreground for some reason, looking almost directly at the camera. In the background we see Koi Boi, Mary Mahajan, Chipmunk Hunk, Brain Drain, and Mew the Cat. In the middle of the shot, Doreen and Nancy sit together. Doreen is in her superhero outfit with Tippy-Toe on her right shoulder, and Nancy is in a yellow cardigan and jeans on Doreen’s left. They’re holding hands, fingers intertwined, as Nancy leans against Doreen with her whole body. Their heads are tilted inward towards each other, the side of Doreen’s head touching the side of Nancy’s, as they look off into the distance together.]

#the unbeatable squirrel girl #squirrel girl x nancy #squancy #squirrel girl #nancy whitehead #queer comics #WLW comics #long post #described #squirrel girl spoilers #thaumaturgethoughts

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mashkaroom · 3 years ago

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Lengthy analysis of Holes, as promised!. This will include spoilers, which will be marked. Just gonna go through the book and the philosophy/themes/connections I caught onto this time around. Stuff discussed, in order: connections to Camus, on the question of children’s books, systems, cycles, and why Stanley is gay and jewish 😏

Camus:

The first and perhaps most obvious set of texts/theories it makes sense to put Holes in conversation with is the works of Albert Camus. Holes starts out with a description of the sun and the heat, which readers of the Stranger will remember are major themes there. The heat continues to be a prominent part of the story, though thematically, it functions very differently in the two books. In The Stranger it primarily represents the indifference of the universe (or at least so claim a ton of sources and I’m inclined to agree) and the lack of control we exert over our own lives while in Holes it’s basically the opposite of that. The heat and drought is implied to be a semi-divine punishment for a past injustice and, moreover, the elite adults of the camp have air conditioning and access to shade: the sun does not affect everyone equally in Holes as it does in The Stranger (though even that is debatable: I don’t think this was Camus’s intent, but it’s notable that it’s only the white englishman who’s driven to murder by the sun. This could certainly be read as critique of colonizers who cannot/refuse to coexist with the land and environment and how the indigenous population always suffers for it, but I digress). The other Camusian parallel one is immediately inclined to draw is that, of course, of Sysiphus: there’s the repetitive and seemingly meaningless act of digging holes not to mention that carrying stuff up a mountain is both thematically and plot-wise a very important part of Holes. But, once again, it is eventually revealed that both acts do carry an inherent meaning. Holes does not present the image of an uncaring universe: on the contrary, destiny and semi-divine influence plays a major role. The story may start out with a series of seemingly random and inherently meaningless events, but as the story progresses, people, actions, items, and events become increasingly imbued with meaning. In the Holes universe, one must imagine Sisyphus redeemed, not through the act of rolling the stone but by rebelling against it. I have difficulty imagining that Sachar was not thinking of Camus while writing Holes, or, at the very least, that if he encountered Camus afterwards, he must have been struck by the similarities. I don’t know if there was a specific intent in creating a story so embroiled in Camusian absurdism, especially since the target readership is (allegedly) children who almost certainly are not recognizing specific allusions to Camus, so perhaps the similarities are purely aesthetic — after all, everything that is nominally similar does play quite different thematic roles. However, I would never pass up the opportunity to talk about the myth of sisyphus and I think placing Holes in dialogue with Camus can raise some interesting questions about the nature of meaning.

Is Holes a children’s book?

Speaking, though, of the target audience, the audience for this book is in fact children. What about it makes it a children’s book makes it difficult to say: the protagonists are children (and, I would argue, it is not a coming of age story, despite the claims of one piece of lit crit about Holes in which i disagreed with almost every claim made, but i digress once more) and the writing style is fairly simple: you can read it with a second-grader’s vocabulary. Also, of course, being a children’s book doesn’t (and crucially shouldn’t!) mean that it’s lacking in depth and complexity. However, I think most thematically rich children’s books tend to be quite allegorical. The Little Prince is a good example. Holes is just way too specific for its sole market to be children. It’s either intended to be read by multiple generations at once or for child readers to return to it as an adult. It addresses themes of racism (and not just generic racism, anti-black racism in the reconstruction south), homelessness, intergenerational trauma. and the modern carceral system. These are social critiques that will probably go over most kids’ heads (certainly over mine). However, the themes of the text are not inaccessible for children. You don’t have to understand the particular history of the US criminal justice system or even that Sachar is making a comparison to anything specific to get that the system that he’s portraying is unjust. Knowing the real-world context just adds another layer to the text. Holes also has one of the hallmarks of children’s books that I really like, which is a particular type of absurdism that the child characters come up against. This always rang true to me as a kid and well into my teens, when you start understanding that your life is controlled by some set of systems, but you haven’t quite gotten what those systems are or why and how they came about. Like nowadays, I can say “we did this in elementary school because of a state law, that because of a federal law, that because of the history of puritanism, and this because we got a grant for it”, but as a kid nobody tells you these things or really even cares to explain why the rules are as they are, and the systems that govern your world, often with no small degree of violence and almost always with an inherent disregard for your agency, are ineffable and slippery, and good children’s books capture this really well (Series of Unfortunate Events is probably my favorite example of this, where a secret organization that everything is implicated in and more more tragicomic details about it get revealed until the Baudelaire children find themselves to some degree members with mixed feelings is honestly an excellent coming-of-age allegory. oh, not to mention the constant conflict with bureacracy. god that series is so good, everyone read it). Back to Holes, Sachar weaves the more fantastical ineffable elements in with real-world issues so neatly. Stanley’s family is allegedly cursed, which is why Stanley keeps having bad luck, but he also lives in systemic poverty, which is also why he keeps having bad luck. Sachar eschews neither the allegorical elements common in children’s literature nor the more direct systemic critiques more often found in YA and adult lit, and it creates a really unique vibe. I think the story really benefited from having a children’s author, and I would love to see more authors in both children’s and adult lit do this!

Systems

Speaking of the systems, this book is surprisingly radical. Like it’s full-on an abolitionist text. The law is pretty much only ever presented as adversarial, both in the story of Stanley’s present time, and in Kate and Sam’s story. It’s implied if not stated repeatedly that Stanley and the other boys are pretty much victims of circumstance and have been imprisoned pretty much for the crime of being poor. The hole-digging is shown to be cruel and bad for the boys. It’s noted that in digging the holes Stanley’s heart hardened along with his muscles. This is of course very evocative of the system of retributive justice we have in America. Additionally, Camp Greenlake’s existence can ultimately be traced back to an act of racist violence, also in close parallel with our prison system. Hole’s stance on justice is very restorative. Punishments are never shown to work: only through righting the wrongs can true justice be achieved. Moreover, Holes even gives the opportunity for redemption to a minor antagonist when [minor spoiler] Derrick Dunne, the kid who was bullying Stanley in the beginning ultimately plays a small role in helping Stanley regain his freedom [spoiler over].

Cycles

Cycles are a major theme in holes, and Sachar creates a unique temporality to support this theme. There are 3 interwoven stories: that of Stanley’s in the present date, that of Stanley’s ancestors, and that of the land that Stanley is on (though, as I will delve into later, it’s at least a little implied that Stanley is descended from the characters in that story also). The stories from the past reach in and touch the present. You can’t untangle the past from the future. Looking at this again through a social justice lens, it could be seen as fairly progressive commentary on what to do with regards to America’s past wrongs. The past cannot and will not be left in the past: it must be dealt with on an ongoing basis. Even the warden, the greatest villain of Stanley’s story has a sympathetic moment at the end where it’s revealed that she, too, is stuck in a cycle of intergenerational trauma she can’t break free from.

Stanley is gay and jewish

Ok, I will now talk about how Stanley is a queer Jew, but this entire section will be riddled with spoilers, so read the book first and then come back!

A queer Jew?? i hear you ask. You’re just projecting. Yes, 100%. However, I think that interpreting Stanley as both these things adds to the thematic richness of the text. Let’s start with the Jewish bit: it’s not explicitly stated that Stanley is Jewish, but his great-great grandfather is a nerd-boy Latvian immigrant with the last name Yelnats, and his great-grandfather was a stockbrocker, so, like, ya know. Louis Sachar is also himself Jewish, as was the director of the movie, who cast Jews in the roles of Stanley and his family (dyk Shia LaBeouf is Jewish?? i did not), so I know I’m not the only one interpreting it this way. And honestly, does it not resemble the book of exodus quite a bit? They escape what is pretty much a form of slavery and wander in the desert. Sploosh resembles the well of Miriam, and then they ascend up a mountain to the “thumb of god”, perhaps in a parallel to Moses receiving the commandments. Is this a useful way to look at the text? Who knows. But what I think we do get from reading Stanley as Jewish is a more nuanced discussion of privilege and solidarity. If Stanley and his ancestors are Jewish (or at least Jew-ish), then what placed the curse upon his family (and, we see, Madame Zeroni’s family isn’t doing so great either) is the breaking of solidarity between oppressed people. But also, the fact that you are also marginalized does not wash you of the responsibility to other marginalized groups. I don’t think Sachar intended it this way, because I think he probably would have talked about it more if he had, but I would say this book can be read as a call to the American Jewish community to take an active role in forging solidarity with other marginalized groups and actively righting the wrong you, your ancestors, and your community wrought upon them.

Now, why do I think Stanley and Zero are gay? Before I go into how it augments the text thematically, I bring to your attention this passage.

Two nights later, Stanley lay awake staring up at the star-filled sky. He was too happy to fall asleep.

He knew he had no reason to be happy. He had heard or read somewhere that right before a person freezes to death, he suddenly feels nice and warm. He wondered if perhaps he was experiencing something like that.

It occurred to him that he couldn't remember the last time he felt happiness. It wasn't just being sent to Camp Green Lake that had made his life miserable. Before that he'd been unhappy at school, where he had no friends, and bullies like Derrick Dunne picked on him. No one liked him, and the truth was, he didn't especially like himself.

He liked himself now.

He wondered if he was delirious. He looked over at Zero sleeping near him. Zero's face was lit in the starlight, and there was a flower petal in front of his nose that moved back and forth as he breathed. It reminded Stanley of something out of a cartoon. Zero breathed in, and the petal was drawn up, almost touching his nose. Zero breathed out, and the petal moved toward his chin. It stayed on Zero's face for an amazingly long time before fluttering off to the side.

Stanley considered placing it back in front of Zero's nose, but it wouldn't be the same.

Girl, I’m sorry, that’s gay as shit! It’s such tremendous tenderness, not to mention the traditionally romantic imagery of moonlight and the flower petal. There’s also the non-romantic aspects. Stanley’s inexplicable happiness and suddenly liking himself evokes, for me, at least, the experience of coming out to yourself, of realizing who you are. Later in this chapter, Stanley contemplates running away with Zero despite the fact that it would make them lifelong outlaws. This book, remember, was written in 1998, and homosexuality was decriminalized in 2003, and the book takes place in Texas. It would have been, if anything, even more evocative of gayness when it was published. Now as to how this increases the thematic richness of the text: obviously, in carrying Hector up to the thumb, giving him water, and singing the lullaby, he redeems the wrong done by his ancestor, after which his family’s luck immediately changed. However, after Hector and Zero return to camp Greenlake, rain falls there for the first time. What was redeemed here? Remember that earlier on we learn that what caused the drought was the fact that Sam the onion man (who was black) was murdered for kissing Kate Barlow (who was white) — so what would a [post-factum wronging of that right look like? Zero, as we remember, is black while Stanley is white, so them being in a romantic relationship would be a successful interracial relationship to redeem the one Kate and Sam weren’t able to have. It’s also, as I said earlier, implied that Stanley is descended from Kate Barlow on his mother’s side: Stanley remembers seeing the other half of the lipstick tube with her initials on it in his mother’s bedroom. I’d also argue that Sam the Onion Man is implied to be descended from Madame Zeroni (chronology-wise, I think he’d be her grandson). First of all, there’s no follow-up with Madame Zeroni’s son who moved to America, and pretty much all other plot threads are followed up with in Holes. Secondly, Sam mentions water running uphill, just like Madame Zeroni does. Even without these speculations being true, Stanley and Hector being gay would redeem the land they’re on, but If they are, the parallel with the other ancestral redemption arc becomes to much to imagine it was unintentional.

So anyway, those are my thoughts on Holes, now everyone go read it!

#was trying to express my dad that shia labeouf is jewish but couldn't remember how to pronounce his name #so i was like. dyk sheeya labeeoof is jewish? indiana jone's son. shaya labyof. Pap. Indiana Jone's son. you know who he is. Pap come on #when he figured out who he was he asked if harrison ford was also jewish #as a joke #and turns out he fucking is! his maternal grandparents are jews from minsk!#quoth my father: 'they're everywhere. nothing is sacred'#lololol #anyway this fucking booooook you guys

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bard-llama · 3 years ago

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WiP Wednesday: A Single Spark

I don’t think I’ve shared this whole scene before, but it’s one of my favorite scenes I’ve written, ‘cause there’s so much going on with everyone as they try to figure out where their political alignment is.

Premise: This is from a fic series called A Single Spark where Foltest orders the forest burned to destroy the Scoia’tael - only it does a lot more damage than just that (and the Scoia’tael survive, because they actually know how to care for forests and periodically burn the underbrush. Also, Roche and Fenn risked going into the forest to warn them, ‘cause Foltest has gone off his rocker.) With the help of Triss and Keira, the Blue Stripes manage to help the locals keep Ellander and Flotsam from burning down, and after the fire has burned out, everyone tries to figure out where things stand now that they’re technically all traitors in Foltest’s eyes.

Iorveth’s voice was entirely reasonable as he said, “all we want is the right to live freely. Is that truly too much to ask!?”

“He’s right, John,” Roche found himself saying and saw Iorveth turn to him in surprise. This was going to sound callous, but, “just look at the numbers. If we want a single chance to stop this from happening again? We need nonhumans. Is granting equality really that much to ask?”

The look on Iorveth’s eye made him feel strangely warm and he cleared his throat.

Natalis shook his head, expression openly uncertain. “We are fighting for a Temeria where our king won’t burn down forests. But I don’t have the authority to promise that kind of change. The nobles would never support it.”

“Hang the nobles!” Roche swore. “They’ve already made their stances clear! If they stand for the reckless destruction of Temeria, then who cares what they approve!?”

“I know you’ve never been fond of us,” Maria Louisa La Valette chided calmly as she walked into the room, “but not all the nobles have betrayed Temeria, thank you very much. And that is a good thing, because I believe I have exactly what you need.”

“Oh?” he scowled.

“You should know better than any,” Louisa sniffed, looking down her nose at him, “if we are to have a real chance of opposing Foltest and his loyalists, we’re going to need a viable option for someone to rule in Foltest’s stead.”

Roche opened his mouth to protest – and then his brain finally kicked into gear and reminded him exactly why Louisa La Valette would be the one to make this point.

“Foltest won’t claim them if they oppose him,” he reminded her softly. He didn’t particularly like Louisa La Valette all that much, but she was a proud woman and, unusual amongst her peers, she was actually invested in her children’s lives. And she knew Foltest, probably as well as he did. She had to know how this action would cause Foltest to respond.

Her throat moved in a quick swallow before she nodded sharply. “I know. I’ve discussed this with my family, and we’ve made the decision.”

John Natalis coughed light. “Pardon me for interrupting, my lady, but what–?”

Louisa cleared her throat, sweeping her eyes over the assembled group – not that there were many of them. She was the highest ranked noble present, and he had no doubt that she saw that as meaning command should automatically fall to her.

Unfortunately for her, neither Roche nor Natalis were the type to turn over command in the middle of a crisis. Which meant they had 3 commanders, a Scoia’tael elf who probably wouldn’t listen to any of them, a mage who rarely did anything she didn’t want to do anyway, and another noble. Great. No way that was going to be a problem.

“My children, Natalis,” Louisa said, gesturing towards the door as a young man with dark hair opened it and guided two small children with lighter hair inside. All of them were Louisa’s children, but considering the old Baron (may he rest in peace) had had black hair, and Louisa herself had dark hair, it was clear to anyone who looked that the young twins had a different father than the older boy.

Roche knew that people often did not look, but even so, there had been more than a few rumors about Louisa’s affair with Foltest. They were discreet – Roche knew this because often times he would be the one providing the discretion – but they were both nobles to their core. Nobles never noticed the servants, never thought about the fact that servants could gossip just as readily as other courtiers did.

Natalis had obviously heard said rumors, because he stared for a long moment at Ari, the oldest child, then assessed the twins in silence for another long minute. Then he cleared his throat. “My lady, what precisely are you proposing?”

“I am proposing that Foltest’s children be his heirs to the throne,” Louisa was calm as she delivered the news, and in any other circumstance, her declaration would be cause for Roche to panic. A dispute over the line of succession could destroy a reign if rulers weren’t careful. But Foltest had been planning to claim the children as his own, once the right politically expedient moment had arrived. They were bastards, so there would still have been some dispute over the rightfulness of their claim to the throne – but Foltest had only one other child, and if their claim was viewed more strongly than hers...

Shit, Roche really should’ve invited her. He hadn’t even thought of it, and–

The door opened again and this time, Triss Merigold entered with a white-robed priestess of Melitele who was technically the Crown Princess of Temeria. Technically, because while the reality was that Foltest was her father, no one knew that. To the world, Princess Adda the White was Foltest’s niece, daughter of the late Princess Adda of Temeria.

To a noble, a sister’s daughter was less respected than the primary family line – aka Boussy and Anais, Foltest’s direct children – but she was at least considered legitimate. Sort of. The cover story Roche had concocted when Adda had appeared – and he did mean appeared, as in, out of thin air in many ways – was that the late Princess had secretly married a nobleman, who had then hidden their child from the King after the Princess died. He’d had to specify that the nobleman had hidden Adda from Foltest, because none of them had known about Adda’s existence until a witcher lifted the curse from a striga. Eight years after the late Princess’s death.

The public had accepted the story, fortunately, but the fact was that until the curse had been lifted, Adda hadn’t known anything but the life of a monster that hungered for human flesh. She was cured of that, but its effects remained even as the Sisters of Melitele taught her how to be a person. Roche was proud to say that he’d played some small part in that, in raising the young woman standing in the doorway.

He also had a recurring nightmare where Foltest decided that his former-striga daughter was too nonhuman to be tolerated. She wasn’t, of course. Adda was human. The witcher had cured her.

Sure, maybe Roche had noticed little ways in which she was still a little… effected, shall we say? Like the way that her growl made all the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. Or the way that she could hear people moving two rooms over when Roche certainly couldn’t. Or the way that she preferred her meat rare enough to still be bleeding.

Little things. Not enough to make her not a human, though. It wasn’t as if she was an elf or a dwarf or a halfling or something. She was human. And just a little superhuman as well.

Triss Merigold cleared her throat and addressed everyone assembled in the room. “May I present Priestess Adda the White, Crown Princess of Temeria.”

Natalis, Keira Metz, Duke Hereward, and Louisa all bowed courteously, some noticeably lower than others. Belatedly, Roche remembered that he was supposed to bow too, which got him some odd looks from the others, but Adda just smiled at him. Iorveth didn’t move a muscle, looking at them all balefully.

“Gentlemen,” Adda’s voice was soft, yet it easily commanded the room, “ladies, I understand this is a strategy meeting to determine what to do next about Foltest.”

Natalis cleared his throat, “yes, my lady.”

“Wonderful. If you wouldn’t mind filling me in?”

“Of course,” every single one of them said, automatically assuming that she was addressing them as the leader. He’d known that was going to come back to be a problem.

Triss rolled her eyes and called on her fellow sorceress. “Keira? Would you mind?”

“Of course, your highness,” Keira nodded. “We haven’t exactly accomplished much.” The mage’s voice was scathing as she flicked a glance at Iorveth. “Roche brought Temeria’s Most Wanted Terrorist to the meeting, which understandably bothered some people.”

Roche rolled his eyes. “And Iorveth made the surprisingly rational argument that if we want to change Temeria, why not give nonhumans equal rights and protections, too?”

“The people would never accept it,” Louisa dismissed easily.

“I rather think the nonhumans would,” Adda said, soft words ringing in the silence that followed. “I am not sure that working with the Scoia’tael is the right answer, but why not make this change as well? I assume you’re already intending to ask for Foltest to step down.”

“And his children,” Louisa emphasized, squeezing each of the twins’ shoulders. Anais and Boussy mostly just looked uncomfortable. “Will take their rightful place as his heirs.”

Triss arched an eyebrow. “Rightful place? You do recall that you are speaking to the Crown Princess, don’t you?”

“Who is Foltest’s niece. Not his direct descendant.”

Roche rolled his lips together, determined to take the particular secret that meant she was wrong to the grave.

“Niece?” Anais spoke suddenly, eyes fixed on Adda. “You’re Papa’s niece?”

Adda blinked down at Anais for a long moment and then knelt down and smiled. “I am. It’s nice to meet you. I didn’t know I had other family.”

And there was a rebuke in that that had Roche wincing, but nonetheless, there was something incredible about watching this meeting of Foltest’s three children. It was only right that they should know each other.

Louisa’s hand tightened around Anais’s shoulder. “I’m sure they’d be delighted to get to know you,” the noblewoman said, eyes sharp and hard, “provided you do not contest their claim to the throne.”

“My lady,” Triss interrupted, “with all due respect, they’re children. Adda is of age.”

Louisa was not moved, but Adda cleared her throat, smiling at Anais and Boussy as she rose. “I’m sure something can be worked out. More importantly, I would like to know where everyone stands on the nonhuman issue.”

“More important?” Louisa muttered, but obligingly shuffled her children to be seated around the table. Natalis, Keira and Hereward were all already sitting at the table, and Triss and Adda joined them.

But Iorveth didn’t move, and Roche twisted back to cock an eyebrow at him.

“That ‘nonhuman issue’,” Iorveth grit out, “happens to be my life, my people’s lives, and the survival of our entire species in the face of those who seek our eradication.”

Roche blinked, taken off guard by the venom in Iorveth’s words. But then, he supposed he’d never really thought about it like that before. To him, hunting elves was just – well, just following orders. He’d honestly never thought much about the experiences of nonhumans from their perspective. Foltest had never been interested in hearing that intel and Roche had never even thought to gather it.

Swallowing down the turmoil of emotions that thought caused, Roche looked at Iorveth and forced himself to see. To see beyond the enemy commander and the wily opponent and the talented warrior, down to the elf underneath all of that. To Roche, that Iorveth was an elf had never really mattered. Well, obviously it did, because those were Roche’s orders, but he’d just… never really thought about it. Iorveth was a terrorist, a criminal. Who cared that he was an elf?

Except… except Iorveth was a terrorist because he was an elf, wasn’t he? Because he wanted freedom and equality for his people. His elven people.

Weird how Roche had never thought about that before. It made him feel… something. Something uncomfortable and sour and a little too close to guilt for comfort.

“You’re right,” Adda said, and the whole room stared at her. She simply bowed her head to Iorveth. “I apologize for minimizing your fight. While I don’t personally agree with your tactics, I can understand what might lead you to taking such actions. That does not make them forgivable,” she was quick to say as Duke Hereward jumped to his feet, “but you are right to remind us that there are real people behind these issues, real lives affected by what we decide.”

Iorveth looked gobsmacked, but then, so did most of the room. Adda was certainly different to what they were all used to with Foltest.

The elf still didn’t join them at the table, but he did reluctantly ghost slightly closer, leaning against the wall behind Roche, which Roche was weirdly okay with, considering Iorveth could conceivably knife him in the back at any time.

But why would he? At the moment, Iorveth needed him, needed his acceptance to keep from getting slaughtered. Of everyone in this room, Roche would bet that only Anais and Boussy were unarmed. Iorveth wasn’t stupid enough to start a fight he couldn’t win, and seven against one, even this one, was a fight he could not win.

“Your highness,” Hereward said, shifting uncomfortably. “You almost sound as if you support the nonhumans.”

“That would be because I do, Duke Hereward,” Adda’s voice was firm and spoke of absolute faith in her words. “I believe that Temeria should be an equal Temeria for all Temerians, regardless of species. That is the Temeria I stand for.”

Roche tried not to gape. It probably should not have been as much of a shock as it was to hear Adda’s words. In retrospect, she’d always been very insistent that Melitele looked after all people, no matter what their ears looked like or how tall they were.

“That’s absurd,” Louisa scowled. “Temeria is a human land. If nonhumans want their own land, let them go somewhere else.”

“You are sitting on top of the ruins of the city I was born in, dh’oine. This was my land long before it belonged to you.”

Louisa and Ari bristled, and Roche could see Natalis frowning in thought even as Hereward closed himself off entirely, clearly uninterested in anything the elf had to say. Keira looked phenomenally unimpressed, and Triss mostly just looked concerned, but he kept his focus on Louisa. If any of them might try to stick a blade through Iorveth’s throat, it was her.

Without really thinking it through, he held his hands up placatingly, “there’s no need for this to get heated–”

“Heated!?” Louisa snarled. “What happened to the Blue Stripes commander who defended Temeria against the nonhuman threat? You stand there and let him tell lies, you bring him here and vouch for him – what has he promised you?”

Roche frowned. “My loyalty is to Temeria, and it isn’t for sale,” he said firmly. “This is a meeting to determine our next steps, as people who are all considered traitors to Foltest now.” And oh, that hurt something deep in his chest, made it ache with the memory of everything Foltest was to him. Had been. Now? Now, Foltest was clearly mad, and Roche had to think of what was best for Temeria. “We’re talking about standing against the King and all his armies. If you believe we few have the capability to stand up to those forces, then you’re deluded. Even the men in your own service aren’t enough, Lady La Valette, and to send them into battle without support would mean a slaughter. Hundreds of Temerians dead, for no other reason than because you could not sit and discuss what might be possible if we worked together. Is that really something you want on your conscience?”

Natalis cleared his throat authoritatively, “what is it you’re proposing, Commander Roche?”

“I’m not proposing anything. I’m saying that the leader of the Scoia’tael is literally here, in this room. And all he’s asking is equality for his people. That sounds like the beginning of a negotiation to me.”

Hereward scoffed, wrinkling his nose. “Negotiate with elves? When have you ever known an elf to keep their word!?”

“Have you ever known a human to keep theirs!?” Iorveth growled, low in his throat, and the sound reverberated around the room, setting more than a few people on edge.

Roche had to try hard not to smirk. These people didn’t understand Iorveth in the slightest. Maybe some elves were liars and oathbreakers. Hell, plenty of humans were liars and oathbreakers too. But Iorveth? Iorveth had his own sense of honor. It was warped by his morality, of course, but it was there. Why else would Iorveth save him in exchange for warning the Scoia’tael of the coming fire? Why else would Iorveth send his men out to look for Fenn?

“Enough,” Adda said, quiet voice somehow cutting through all protests.

The end result of this is gonna be 3 factions warring for control of Temeria.

The Loyalists

Foltest and his cronies, including a mage. They say a king can do whatever he damn well pleases and that’s the way it should be. Foltest fully intends to keep his position as king.

The Pragmatists

Louisa La Valette, John Natalis, Keira, and the others that stand with them that say kings shouldn’t be able to abuse their powers that way. They want Foltest to step down and his children to take the throne.

The United Temerians

Roche, Iorveth, Adda, Triss, and others who stand with nonhumans. They say that while Temeria is undergoing this change, why not include nonhuman rights as part of it. They want Foltest’s ‘niece’ to take the throne.

Of course, before this can happen, there’s all the build up with the forest fire which I still gotta write. But eventually, some of this ‘verse will actually be published and I am excited for that.

#rorveth #iorveth x roche #politics #a single spark #fic planning #my fics #adda the white #triss merigold #keira metz #louisa la valette #john natalis #king foltest #the witcher

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roseategales · 4 years ago

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VORACITY — ONE-SHOT.

author’s note: the smut in this fic mostly functions in the background and in dialogue, but, although it’s described in detail, is not the focal point. the fic was written to focus mainly on the discussion of motivation, consent, aftercare, and the dynamic between solas and my lavellan, who are in an established and loving relationship by the point that this fic happens in. thank you to @thebookworm0001 and @jarakrisafis for beta’ing. <3

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“I can heal these.”

Cooled with a spell at the ready, Solas’ fingertips hover over her hip, where an imprint of his earlier grip on her is darkening to bruises. It’s not the only wine-red patch. There’s a counterpart on her other side; and an irregular trail of marks in the shape of his mouth, starting from her throat, wandering down to her breasts, and ending below her ribs. In the morning, their contrast on her skin will be deeper, and will appear harsher than they are in daylight’s emphasis. She’ll have to be grateful Josephine ordered so many high-collared tunics for her in spite of her protests. Secretly. Or her Chief Ambassador may fuss even more. But Eludysia doesn’t think those things warrant her worries. Nor should they warrant Solas’. Easily concealed displays of a night enjoyed with her dearly missed lover? Hardly worth the trouble, when their lives are full of worries as things are.

“So can I,” she reminds him. She curls closer to his side. “Leave it. I don’t mind them,” she says. If anything, they serve as a reminder that there are some things of Eludysia she can keep guarded. For her love. For herself. Apart from Herald and Inquisitor.

Solas hesitates for a moment, the line of his mouth severe, eyes searching hers in the shadows cast by the dim firelight. “Ma nuvenin,” he says eventually, when she voices nothing more. The spell is returned to the streams of the Fade, and he arranges the quilt to cover her body and his.

She should know him better by now, however. The way she’s learning to know the lean grace of his form, the sharp angles of his features, the specific timbre of his voice. His acquiescence to her is conflict with himself. She has her dismaying confirmation as he lays back down to face her and brush her hair behind her ear, without a kiss to her forehead or her lips. Without holding her. He tries a smile, but it’s as withdrawn as he is. Like he doesn’t dare to allow himself her closeness, his mind lost to rumination.

There’s something behind his offers to clean her up and heal her love bites.

“You’re upset,” she says, as both a statement and a question.

“Do I appear to be?” Solas asks. It’s tempting to interpret his lilt and raised brow as amused surprise, and not concern. A simple yes or no would’ve made it easier to pursue the subject. She wouldn’t feel like she’s walking on a thin line, caught between potentially overstepping his boundaries again or never knowing the reason for his reservation with her.

Her desire to know wins.

“You do appear to be,” she tells him. “You’re distancing yourself and dodging my question.”

“I do not wish to concern you, vhenan. Moreover, you must be tired after your journey from Ferelden, and I have stolen enough of your time and energy. You should sleep.” He winds his arm around her, palm flat on her spine. His thumb strokes her skin. If the gesture is meant to soothe her, it has the opposite effect.

“I’ll toss and turn the whole night if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Eludysia is aware of the manipulative undertone to her words. Though she is being truthful and her intentions are genuine, she could have let this go. Didn’t he say he would work on trusting her? She could have admitted that she is tired, and asked if he would discuss things with her in the morning. She could have asked if he’d help her sleep with a spell. Left him to mull things over on his own in the Fade. Perhaps he’d feel better if she did. But then, she doesn’t feel it’s a good idea to leave the conversation here. It is just as likely that he’d continue to avoid the subject and she would be no closer to the explanation for his mood’s sudden shift. She was so happy to be able to see him and be held by him again. She counted down the days, ached to have him all over her at night. Her hand and mere recollections of him between her legs brought poor relief. She thought he ached similarly and was equally thrilled for her return. Now...

Solas removes his arm from her. He rubs his face, as though he was the one who’d spent a week in talks with the Ferelden crown and nobility on a mutual effort to expunge the Venatori. For a moment, she braces herself for him to evade her or leave again. She wouldn’t blame him. But he doesn’t. When he drops his hand, his expression is as composed as a still pool.

“All right,” he says quietly. “I fear I should not have taken you in the manner I did. I was reckless. Unthinking. I could’ve caused you worse harm.” He places two fingers under the mark at her throat, examining her. As if he waits for her to flinch away from him. She remains at his side, her breathing steady. “My actions were regrettable. I apologise.”

“You apologise,” she repeats, incredulous. Reckless. Unthinking. Harm. She turns each word, each meaning over. Tries to frame tonight’s sex in the light of them. She can see how reckless could be applicable. But unthinking? Harm? And if his actions were regrettable, what would he call hers? Who initiated what past the first kiss is a bit difficult to distinguish. Neither of them could get their clothes off quick enough, neither seemed like they could bear another second without the other’s touch. But this much is clear: She was exhilarated by the voracity of Solas’ desire. She encouraged every move he made. Fenhedhis, his back must’ve stung from her nails sinking into his flesh. He had murmured, “abelas,” when she gasped at how hard he bit her throat, and she bid him to do it harder.

He’d paused, looked up at her. His pupils were dilated, eyes dark as the Void. Did they dance in the firelight or did she imagine it? “Are you certain?” He asked.

She couldn’t help but arch into him. “Yes! Please!”

Eludysia’s worry heightens into alarm.

“Solas…” She says slowly, fearing where she next treads. “Was the sex tonight pleasurable for you?”

His brows crease. “That is besides the point.”

“No, it isn’t.” She winces. Her pitch is higher, shakier than she intended it to be.

He falls silent. A shadow passes over his face. “It… was. Yes.”

She has little cause to assume he’s lying. In all the time she has known him, Solas has proven to highly value truth and deplore falsehoods. He has and will avoid and obfuscate if he sees fit. Mostly out of caution. But he would never lie. Still, she wants to be certain. “Every second of it?”

“I would not have gone as far as I did if it were otherwise,” he says.

“Then why are you apologising? If it was pleasurable for both of us, I don’t see a problem.”

“What is pleasurable and what is beneficial is not mutually exclusive, vhenan.” Though he is gentle as he explains, he points the differentiation out as if it’s obvious. “We have not been apart for quite some time, and your trip to Ferelden was the first since we started having sex. It was like starving in the winter after eating of a summer harvest. We were driven by need and desire. That combination can be overpowering for anyone, making them desperate to be satisfied. I wanted nothing more than to have you, to make you cry out and come apart trembling in my hands as I slaked my lust.” He cards his fingers through her hair. Somehow, his touch underlines his description of what transpired, intimate yet distant. She’d wonder at how paradoxical he can be if she wasn’t familiar with his idiosyncrasies.

He continues, “I knew I had you riled. I asked for your consent not purely for your sake, but to permit myself indulgence. Even if you were not hurt or did not feel mistreated in the moment… I would never want a chance of that happening.” His eyes flit past her, like he sees something she can’t. A scene where she’s pushing him away, covered in bruises, feeling used, her trust broken? It vanishes as soon as it appears, and his gaze settles back onto her face. “Certainly not in bed.”

She considers what he has said. Her cheeks burn and her eyes sting. She catches his hand mid-stroke in her hair, and brings it to her lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his knuckles. Then she props up her pillow and sits, arranging and clutching the quilt tightly around her body. Solas watches her, questioning. As she cannot conceal the marks at her throat and the tops of her breasts from his view, she hopes her hair and the shadows fall in the appropriate places.

“Vhenan?” He probes.

Eludysia Adhlea Lavellan, you are a fool. Desiring is easy. Asking for explanations is easy. Receiving and examining them, and giving your own in turn—that’s the hard part.

“You’re the first person to care so much for me,” she says. A lump forms in her throat. She swallows, and glances at the sparks rising off the flames. Takes a breath to compose herself. “Growing up Dalish, sex was taught to me as a matter of practicality. We were given lessons on our bodies, taught how to protect ourselves, instructed through common knowledge and preserved texts and folktales, with the expectation of marriage and raising children one day. I’ve told you about my youth, so you know I was… Rather curious and rebellious.”

“As you’re still inclined to be.”

Solas’ wry note earns a nervous laugh from her. “You have a point. Well, I didn’t live in a village. I didn’t have a house with four walls and various rooms, let alone a castle, or stay anywhere long enough to figure out where there were good hiding spots. If I found someone to my liking, we had to be quick and discreet. That often meant we were rough. I’ve been bitten, swatted, I’ve had my hair pulled, and I’ve done the same to others—and there wasn’t time to embrace or curl up together or talk in bed like this.” Not even with Dhea. The thought is tinged with some regret. Not for what could have been. For what was. They were never right as a couple, but a few of the memories they made together might have been happier, had less insecurity and shame. Before Solas, she had no idea that sex could be so tender, so achingly sweet. She didn’t know someone could draw six, seven orgasms a night from her with the softest of touches. Nor what it would be like to be taken care of and then fall asleep in his arms afterwards. Being with him, in Skyhold and on their travels, has been a privilege she never envisioned for herself.

“I’m not telling you any of this to upset you further,” she hastens to add as his eyes widen. “But for you to understand: I like rough sex. I wouldn’t have sought it out or encouraged you if I didn’t. My only worry…” She swallows again. “Is that I’m mistreating you.”

He sits upright in an instant, closing the gap between them. “No, no. Nothing of the sort, vhenan.”

“You’ve done nothing but give into me, disregarding your own discomfort the entire night.”

“Would I not speak plainly if you had wronged me? My discomfort was caused by my guilt towards you. The actions I took were to assuage it.” He shakes his head at her. “You underestimate the extent of my selfishness.”

“Well, it’s not like I haven’t been selfish either.” Isn’t that how they ended up here? Mutual selfishness? She reaches for him with her free hand. He takes it, and she smiles faintly at their fingers interlacing together. “Heal the bruises if you like. I won’t complain.”

He hums, gently pushing her hair off her shoulders and lowering the quilt to her thighs. His fingers brush the edge of the mark at her throat. She tilts her chin up and straightens her posture for him. But he pauses. “First, answer this for me: Is there a reason you refused initially? You were fine with me fetching the cloth and wiping you.”

She shrugs. “Outside of this room, I’m the Herald and Inquisitor. People don’t see me. Not truly. They see whatever gives them faith, hope, or fear. You don’t. When I’m with you, I remember I’m more.” Gods, she sounds like Cole. Her nose scrunches. “I suppose the love bites and bruises just make that notion more tangible, odd as it sounds aloud.”

“On the contrary, it sounds like you’re clinging to your personhood however you can.”

Of course Solas would be the one to understand.

Eludysia cups his cheek and leans against his forehead. Her smile widens as his hand slides around the nape of her neck. “Maybe I don’t need them. Maybe it’s enough that you’re by my side.”

He chuckles, brushing his lips to hers. “I will be glad to remind you of the woman you are as often as you wish,” he murmurs.

Heat pangs in her belly at his words’ suggestiveness. “Good. Because if you’re up for another round…”

He pulls away, expression darkening. She opens her mouth to speak but all that comes out is a squeal as she is suddenly on her back, the mattress bouncing underneath, his body atop hers.

“It’ll be easier to heal everything with a single spell later,” he explains before she can ask. He pins her wrists above her head. She feels his cock hardening at her thigh. “Is this all right?”

She laughs, leaning up to drag her teeth over his lower lip. “Perfect,” she says.

The grin he gives is wolfish.

#dai fic #dragon age fic #solavellan fanfic #solavellan fic #dragon age.#mine.#my fics.#solas.#inquisitor : eludysia lavellan.#ship : solas & lavellan. in another world.#well this fic evolved #it was originally a lot more jokey and light and then i was hit with feelings #this... is the result of me thinking of that exchange solas has w/ cole post-here lies the abyss #the one where cole says 'it's not abuse if i ask!' and replies 'not always true'#*solas replies #dom/top!solas is...... heh....... dominant..... in fic #but i've been wanting to write something where sex is sort of in the background while aftercare and the power dynamics are the focus #for quite a while actually #i have to note: josie didn't order the tunics bc she knew solas and 'dysia were fucking asfhdadgds #skyhold is in the mountains. eludysia had few clothes on her back and had just become inquisitor #josie was an angel who wanted to make her friend feel warm and look presentable #solas and eludysia fucking later merely provided the tunics with another use #i hate them c:#(not cole and josie ofc)

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adiabolikpastel · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Lunar Eclipse Masquerade

Shu pt. 3

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1,587

Pairing: Shu x Callista (mxf)

ღ Neither Shu nor Callista are thrilled about this arrangement. However, they may just need to bite the bullet. ღ

Mun Yu: We did it! These are the last pieces of the LEM story. The end to our Lunar Eclipse. I hope that you have enjoyed the ride, and gotten to know the stories on this blog better! Tune in at the end of it all for Authors Notes!

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ﾟ｡. +ﾟ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡☆*｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡* ｡ .｡

Despite what most people think, demonic beings are very social creatures. The elites hold countless balls and parties, celebrating their immortality together, and entertaining one another with stories. Typically, they are done in celebration for something – though this is not always the case. All types of beings from across the Demon Realm will come if the host is of high enough prestige.

There would be no such host if it was not for Karlheinz. Seated as the head of the Bat Clan (vampires), Karl’s reach spans far. Being the widow for the former Demon King’s daughter, and having children of the first blood, an invitation from the Vampire King is not one to refuse. Though why would you? In his immaculate castle within the Demon Realm, Eden Castle, it is always quite the spectacle. While the celebrations held in his Human World mansion are nice, nothing compares to a true night of pleasure within the true home of the King.

On this night, there was to be a Masquerade in honor of the first Lunar Eclipsed Moon in over two years. While this night may serve each species differently, the idea to celebrate its return was simply too tempting. For this reason, Karlheinz took it upon himself – or rather – his house, to host the event. This extended to his offspring as well, regardless of their personal agenda. Members of every social elite race accepted the offer, and gathered for a truly unforgettable evening

The two walked along side one another through the gardens of Eden Castle. They were in full bloom – though Shu could not remember a time when they were not. His mother once told him that the gardens of this castle were only like this because of Karlheinz. The magnitude of his father’s power was truly incomprehensible. The pure amount of energy it took to, not only, preform magic, but to then have spells on consent – without being affected – that was on a level that Shu could only dream of reaching.

Callista couldn’t help but fell awkward about her current situation. This entire scheme was only presented to her days ago, and she had thought her father was going to turn the Vampire King down. Then again, perhaps he was put into a position in which he couldn’t refuse. Even so, she had thought her father was adamant on her rejecting this union.

However, when he came to her just moments ago, he seemed… different. As if his entire outlook on the idea had changed. No matter what she tried to say in protest, he simply dismissed her words. Her father simply kept saying that this was the best match for her. That through this marriage she would be taken care of. Well, despite what he said, Callista was more than happy staying forever with her parents.

Being able to stay with her younger brothers, tutoring them in their studies, working towards being a teacher herself – that was the life she wanted. Not to be married off like all her sisters. Well, not all of them – but still – she was not in love with this idea. It was obvious that her husband to be was not either.

“… The flowers here are lovely.” She broke their silence, hoping to be able to start a dialog with him. To no avail, it would seem. He simply walked on, leading her further away from the Castle. Just what was he planning? Surely he wouldn’t take a lady so far out alone. What if someone saw them as such without an escort? “Lord Ririe, perhaps we better go back? What would people say, seeing us two alone like this?”

Shu had planned on taking her far enough away so that he could possibly enjoy a taste of her blood. That would surely send this ‘innocent’ woman a lesson. However, that all seemed like such great effort now. She brought up a point about people seeing them – it would be annoying if they started to talk. Especially if Reiji found out. He’d never hear the end of it.

Instead, he walks over to the fountain, sitting on the walls that surrounded the water flowing inside. Shu let’s out a yawn, and removes his mask, letting it fall into the gathered liquid. Then, without any explanation, he brought himself down, and settled in to take a nap. This night had been nothing but exhausting. He could use a small nap.

Calli watched as the vampire laid himself down onto the fountain. What? Why was he doing that? Didn’t he care if his cloths got wet? What about catching a cold. “Lord Ririe, you shouldn’t lie there.” She looks around to see if anyone was watching them. A few scattered guest were about, but none paying them any attention.

“… Noisy… Let me sleep.” Shu mumbled, trying his best to focus on the calming sounds of the water. He wasn’t able to bring his headphone, which normally helped cancel out all the noise around him. Perhaps that had something to do with his panic earlier.

Unknowing how to handle this situation, Callista did what she would do if this were one of her brothers. “Very well then, if you insist on being difficult –" She wanders off to admire some of the new by flower bushes. If he was going to be rude and sleep, she would have some fun. After examining a few different types, Calli picks a couple of the blossoms.

With her arms full, she returns to the fountain, sitting next to her escorts head. With some hums, she beings twisting the stems into one another. Shu could hear the soft melody through the drops of water. He knew the tune she was humming, “… novice …” He says smirking softly. The familiar music was clearly Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.

“Is it now? I happen to think it fits this night well enough.” Callista responds, smiling softly. She continues to craft her mixture of flowers. “Seems you are cultured to some degree, calling me a novice. That must mean you know more advanced pieces?”

Shu did not respond, instead he settled into his position. There was no point in having a conversation with her. Perhaps if he simply slept, she would go tell her father, and he would be finished with this mess. Just as he was thinking, he felt something slide onto his head. Followed by a small giggle.

“Haha… These flowers suite you, Lord Ririe. We almost match now~” Callista muses touching the feathers that were strung through her own hair. She waited for him to say something. Anything.

Silence.

With a small sigh, Calli looks up to the moon. “… I did not choose this either. If it were up to me, I would prefer a life like my sister. She has no husband, and travels the realms as she pleases.” She twirls one of her feathers. “That is the life I always wanted, as most of my kind do. It’s not like us to be caged in one place. Yet here I am… being given away. Doesn’t seem fair.”

Shu could understand her plight. After all, getting away was something he tried to do his entire life. “… There is no escape.” With a light grunt, Shu lifted himself up. The cement wasn’t comfortable anyway. “That bastard does as he pleases. Until he is defeated – there will be no way out.” This revelation was more for himself than for her. He understood that if he ever wanted to be free from all of this – there was no other option.

While it would be hard work, Shu had no choice but to ascend to the throne. None of his brother had what it took – hell, he barely did. However, it was the only way to be free. “For now… you will have to stay by my side. Until the day comes when I can free us both.” Shu looked at his fellow demon. Neither of them wanted this, however, they were without another option.

Calli was unsure about trusting this man. Not only had she just met him, but was he truly capable of besting the strongest demon known in the realm? “I suppose there is no other option.” She stands from the fountain’s wall. “I will be in your care then, Lord Ririe. Until we are both free of these obligations.” She offers him her hand, to shake on their agreement.

Shu sighs, scratching his head. “Drop the, ‘Lord Ririe’.” He lazily moves his hand into her extended palm. “It’s Shu.”

“I wouldn’t dare call my intended so formally.” She blushes slightly. “Shu-san then, will that do?”

Shu smirks slightly, “You could always sell it and call me Darling.” Callista’s face glowed in the darkness from his taunt. Just because their agreement was temporary, didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy her while it lasted.

“Th-That is hardly appropriate.” She stammers. Moving to settle herself, Calli looks back towards the Castle. “In any case… the night is almost finished. Perhaps we could being our façade with a dance? I have waited all evening for one.”

Shu looked towards the Castle as well. Just moments ago he had been set on leaving. Giving up on Reiji’s crackpot idea. Content to a life spent on the run from his father. Now. Now there was a bit of hope. Perhaps with an alley like this woman, he could best his father.

“Very well…” Shu stands and offer’s his arm to her. “Only one… unless you want to be my pillow for tonight.” He comments looking down at her breast. Damn they looked soft. For a moment he thought of forcing her to take him up on the idea.

“My goodness, perhaps I mistook you for a gentlemen. You’re words are quite something.” She did her best to brush off his comments. As fake partners go, Shu wasn’t hideous. In fact, Calli found his blonde hair and deep blue eyes attractive. There was something to be said about the beauty of the Bat Clan.

Callista laced her arm with Shu’s, the two heading back into the Castle. There were less guest then before. She could see her father laughing loudly with a group, good to see he was in high spirits. As the two of them made their way to the dance floor, a familiar tune began to play.

“Heh, this must be some kind of joke.” Shu comments, moving one of his hands to rest on Callista’s waist. “Remind me to remove this song from my collection.”

She giggles, it must be in fates design that the two of them find one another in this moment. Calli moves so her back is to Shu, extending her opposite hand of his. “Now don’t be so harsh, as I said, this melody suites the night.” She smiles back at her partner.

Unknown to the future, but sure now of their intertwined fate. Shu places his hand under her extended one. “Perhaps you are right.”

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ﾟ｡. +ﾟ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡ ROUTE END ☆*｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡* ｡ .｡

#writing #Lunar Eclipse Masquerade #LEM

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