#its like. well nothing i do is good enough to deserve acknowledgment but maybe if i just do it Better then it will be

[whsprings]

the curse of self sufficiency is like. well my needs went ignored so I'll just take care of them myself, but that just shows everyone that your needs can be ignored because you'll just take care of them yourself.

[utapri-translations-uuuu]

Special Mini Story: Your Name - Translation (君の名前)

Translator's notes can be found at the end and are marked with an asterisk.

Please do not repost/retranslate without permission.

A PDF version is also available.

Key

Hijikata Toshizo - Otori Eiichi

Nagakura Shinpachi - Sumeragi Kira

Todo Heisuke - Mikado Nagi

Okita Soji - Otori Eiji

Kondo Isami - Kiryuin Van

Harada Sanosuke - Hyuga Yamato

Saito Hajime - Amakusa Shion

Kondo: … Well then, I think we’ll wrap up today’s meeting here. Does anyone have anything they would like to add?

Todo: Yes, I have a proposal.

Kondo: What is it, Todo-kun?

Todo: About the headquarters. Don’t you feel like they’ve been getting a bit cramped recently? Even though we’re companions with the same ideals, we still want to have our personal space. Right now, we’re all a little too close to each other.

Hijikata: Are you saying that you want to move? I understand your reasoning. I certainly acknowledge the need for it.

Harada: If you’re going to do it anyway, make it a house with a really high lintel, Hijikata-san. That would be more convenient, I’m sure.

Todo: Don’t make unnecessary, unreasonable demands. Things are finally progressing nicely, and that would just interfere, don’t you think?

Okita: Moving, huh... If the headquarters are going to be bigger, then the garden will too, right? Maybe we can even keep that cat from before.

Harada: Ah, is it the small black cat you met while on patrol?

Saito: A little cat… merely stroking its soft fur seems to bring a simple joy...

Okita: Yes. This isn’t an unreasonable demand, right?

Harada: Well, hmm… I don’t think whether you can keep it or not is a matter of space in the first place.

Hijikata: Harada is right. No matter how large a house we move into, keeping a cat inside is prohibited. First of all, cats should be allowed to roam freely in the town for the public good of rodent control.

Okita: It can’t be… The kind of comfort a cat provides is also necessary in life.

Hijikata: No matter what anyone says, I won’t change my mind. It’s a no.

Nagakura: ... Hijikata-san’s idea that "cats should be allowed to roam free" seems outdated now. Anyway, putting that aside, what was prohibited earlier was "bringing them into the house." In other words, doesn’t that mean that "it’s okay to keep them as pets even now, as long as they’re allowed to roam free"?

Kondo: That’s true. As for me, I didn’t mind either way, so I was thinking of respecting Toshi’s wishes. If Toshi agrees, then I have nothing more to say.

Saito: I see, your earlier words were meant to encourage deep reflection... I apologize for not realizing your profound thoughts, Hijikata-san.

Hijikata: No, it’s not like that at all…

Okita: What’s with that? If you’re going to allow it, then please say it clearly. But thank you.

Harada: I honestly thought it was not a possibility, too. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, Hijikata-san.

Todo: We’re getting off track. We’re going ahead with the move, correct?

Kondo: Ah, of course. Living conditions are important.

Todo: If that’s settled, okay. Shall we continue talking about the cat? If we’re going to have one, we’ll need to think of a name for it.

Saito: Well... the one who deserves the credit this time is Nagakura-san. How about we call it ‘Shinpachi’ so we don’t forget the gratitude we owe him...?

Nagakura: I appreciate the thought, but absolutely not.

Harada: Then, wouldn’t ‘Eiji’* be fine?

Nagakura: My childhood name? Enough already, leave my name alone. I’d rather not use either of them.

Okita: In that case, why not just ask Nagakura-san to name it on behalf of all of us?

Harada: That sounds good. Pick a good one.

Nagakura: … Alright, uh. … Well then, Shi…

Todo: I don’t think you would, but since it’s a special opportunity, something like ‘Shinsengumi’ is a no-go, okay? Try to be a bit more creative.

Hijikata: It's hard to say that ‘Makoto’ (integrity) is creative either.

Kondo: Using the toponym, ‘Mibu’, seems a bit too easy... What do you think? Can you think of anything?

Nagakura: …

Harada: Ah, do you want me to help you as well?

Nagakura: No, it’s fine. This is the role that was assigned to me. I will fulfill it no matter what. ... How about ‘Shingetsu’*? After the new moon, the moon will gradually wax. It’s a symbol of hope for the future. I thought it suits us now.

Saito: How wonderful... As a sign of our comradeship, I want to make a neck ornament out of the same cloth as our haori.

Okita: Great idea! Let’s get started right away. I can’t wait to put it on the kitty.

Harada: If you’re going to make a neck ornament, you’ll need a bell. I think I have one attached to my amulet, so use that.

Kondo: We were able to find a suitable name. Thank you, Nagakura-kun.

Nagakura: … Yes. That’s a relief.

Todo: Hey, Hijikata-san. I think ‘Shingetsu’ is good too, but in the end, it still has Nagakura-san’s name in it, doesn’t it?

Hijikata: I know you’re smart. However, since he hasn’t noticed it himself, just keep quiet about it. … Hey, everyone, remember it’s still a free-roam situation.

Translator's notes:

*1 Eiji- 栄治 (prosperity, peace). Nagakura’s childhood name. Different kanji combination from our Otori Eiji (瑛二)

*2 Shingetsu- 新月 (new moon). As Todo pointed out, it still uses the “shin” from Shinpachi (新八)

[mamadarama]

Just curious on your opinion here do you have any thoughts on the way Madara is being written? Recently I came to the realization that enstars writers aren't all that great,, and I notice that Madara at least in my opinion has had very little development and progression as a character but I'm genuinely hoping I'm wrong but I don't see much difference. And I do hope I'm wrong cuz I definitely haven't read every single story ever in Enstars and it could just really be Madara's character but it feels like he hasn't budged an inch and when DF rolled around it seems like he's gonna progress only for the writers to make him wanna split up literal months after (SS) and it was fine the first time since we explored that part of his character but right after that we got the Spring event and he's?? Back on his bullshit as if whatever happened during Secret Service didn't have much impact. And I do understand his character and all but I often wonder how much of that is just his character (immovable mountain with deep roots that will take years of continuous effort to move) or just the writers half assing because they can't think of a more compelling narrative for double face other than Madara wanting a breakup. It's especially sad to me with Last Mission because as much as I can understand DF being temporary and meant to end, it feels like nothing has changed in Madara during !! Era. I'm hoping that new gen Madara can change that since he's already featured in the new shuffle and scout story, and it does look like he's changing the vibes a little. Idk what are your thoughts and genuinely no hate here I love Madara and I'd love to hear your opinion :)

i think the writers do a pretty good job with the story actually !! i ended up spending a few hours writing like 3 pages of stuff so this one gets a readmore ^^;

theres a tldr at the end though if you dont wanna hear me talk in circles like some kind of maniac (understandable i dont either)

at this point madaras story is a tragedy and hes not really supposed to be a satisfying character . youre supposed to be some degree of frustrated with him like all the other characters are. the story isnt over yet though and maybe he will get a satisfying happy ending someday , but this is all buildup. having madara go through negative character development while the rest of the 3rd years have significant positive character development puts emphasis on one of the main points of his character: you cant help someone who doesnt want to be helped . shu wanted to become more empathetic. eichi wanted to unlearn his bitterness. kaoru wanted to leave his playboy reputation behind. izumi wanted to learn to control his emotions . madara has two sides to him that refuse to coexist— anger and misery. the angry side of him has given up on himself and leans into his perceived role as a villain because he believes alienating his friends is the only way to save them and for once be the hero. the miserable side of him is the sad and "selfish" part that keeps him returning to his friends again and again despite believing hes a bad influence on them, because he still seeks acknowledgment and praise from others and doesnt want to believe its too late for him. he bounces between these like a metronome . (maybe thats another layer of reasoning behind double faces name, idk) so, he doesnt know if he wants to be helped. he thinks he doesnt deserve it. pulling someone out of a ditch that deep requires some legwork on their part too, and if they wont put in that legwork, well... then there's nothing you can do. madara isnt quite a rooted mountain that takes a long time to move... hes more like an injured tiger pacing in its pit , so fixated on looking for a way out that it wont look up and see the entire top is open where its keepers are waiting to take it out and treat its wounds . now suppose this tiger is sentient enough to worry it might hurt someone on impulse when the disinfectant stings its wounds. additionally, lets say the tigers wounds came from falling and cutting itself on something in its habitat while making a risky jump , and it believes it deserves to be hurt for such a stupid misjudgment. so even when it notices the top of the pit is open, it will continue pacing pretending like it didnt. thats where madara is at right now .

madara broke up double face partly out of self sabotage, and partly out of a twisted attempt to "save" kohaku from him. kohaku and madara are an interesting contrast because their characters are set up in a very similar way. the difference between them is that kohaku doesnt hate himself even close to as much as madara does, and as a result he IS getting better. kohaku believes hes always going to be part of the underbelly of society doing dirty work and hes resolved to that like madara is, but he doesnt believe that means he has to do it alone . he acknowledges that hes not alone, he has the rest of alkakurei, the sweets club, jun, his sisters and tsukasa.... and madara. the first part of beating loneliness is recognizing youre not alone. madara thinks no one understands him (which in itself is its own kind of loneliness) and that if his friends understood "what he really is", they wouldnt love him. so in a way their presence eases one kind of loneliness and reinforces another. in his mind the only person who understands him is himself and therefore the only one who can save people from himself is also him.

theres a scene in last mission where madara says his reason for disbanding double face is something along the lines of wanting kohaku to live where he can feel the sun on him , and kohaku asks "what about my feelings?" . that pretty much sums up madaras entire thought process and why he isnt making any positive progress .

tldr; madara does have character development between es! and es!! , but its not positive. to have such a stubborn self loathing character make positive progress without a slow burn of warring with themself and dragging their feet would soften those traits. they want him to stand out and make you to go "ohh ok so this guy is MISERABLE miserable" .

so anyways i dont think its lazy writing its just character loyalty. but the fact that you noticed all that means youre reading him the way hes intended to be read. so congratulations!! you now understand what its like to be kohaku oukawa :) if he does get positive character development i hope its really slow though cuz if its too fast it would feel kinda abrupt. it needs to feel like hes fighting the writers for it to truly be madara

[mihai-florescu]

i think i feel pretty similar to you in that the world is terrible, depressing, it sucks. that’s it’s natural state and we will always return there. but i thank that even though it hurts there are ideals unhampered by reality, stories we can create where that cycle ends for a moment in a happier direction. it isnt our job or duty as there isnt any grand purpose like that, but there is an opportunity out there to create a story with our lives. whether it’s a well known story or lost by the wayside, those who acknowledge the layer beneath the cheery “reality” that is peddled can be writers of their own. i might be delusional and there really is no hope but i hope to create stories for people to enjoy that elusive dream in if only for a temporary respite and cant give up until i well and truly fail. i don’t know if any of my thoughts speak to you in any meaningful way, but i felt compelled to share as while i think we share beliefs we seem to have come to rather different conclusions. i want to give my life to a story, an art, that will hold ideals the real world can never truly embody and thus cannot really give up as every taste of the real reality only strengthens my resolve. is there something like that for you? i’ve read your blog for a while and in my mind (which is an inexperienced mind so I apologize for sharing its fallible perceptions) you seemed like a fascinating person who holds ideals the world refuses to embody and is slowly sinking under that weight. i know it’s not really my place, so i apologize for my audacity, but i believe that you are the sort of person who can create a true happiness for yourself eventually. well, i mean i kind of have to if i believe that for myself. i have more to say, but it seems this is become a ridiculously long message. i apologize, my words likely have crossed between ideas and lost sense at times. i hope they help, or at least don’t harm. i hope you find loveliness loveliness in your day as you deserve it.

I've been journaling about this yesterday... my entire outlook on life i guess? I know i used to be creative and make projects that i found fun, but i cant find this drive in me anymore, i'm more than ready to give up (if only upset at the way it ended so im pressuring myself to make a good Last Project, but nothing is good anymore. It's all so...plain. useless. banal. there's no wit or multilayer to anything i can come up with anymore. I cant develop an idea anymore. There are enough stories, enough artworks, plenty of them bad, theres no need for me to add to it). Im sure it's just burnout stacked on top of depression and general worsening misanthropy and paranoia, but i don't think i will ever feel more hopeful again.

However i do think art, literature, games, even just stories from other people are keeping me grounded. They're also humanity's only redeeming quality - imagination will save our souls... but my position isn't to be an artist anymore, i cant spare the energy and i dont see a point in it either. I cant do a single basic living thing anymore that others seem to be able to do? I very much feel like an npc trying to do my most necessary tasks as best i can, failing more often than not. I hate getting asked what i'll do on a day off (it used to be often at my internship. I dont even want to imagine what they thought about me, that's another can of worms that still haunts me and contributed to why i became like this). The answer is quite literally Pretend I Dont Exist. I will not do anything. I cant do anything. I stop existing the second you stop seeing me, im just in bed dreading the next time i have to be human. I think when other people say they didnt do anything it's a hyperbole, but i can go weeks, and i have gone months even, without leaving the house, if i wasnt expected to.

Part of me wants to think, hope, i could maybe even get interested in making things again if there was no expectation for me to be a person for a few years, completely disappear off the grid (the expectation to be a person that just doesnt come natural to me anymore... and a specific one at that - achieving goals and moving forward, working, with ambitions or any sort of drive, young and energetic, an only child with a good education earning a living... i despise the idea of making money. I despise consumerism too. I want to fund artists, family owned restaurants, bookshops, cafes, and i do, i spend so much money without realising, but i'm really worried i'll run out and not be able to make any to survive once im older and wont get funds from my parents anymore. So i try to save and fail... My family friends, same age or even younger, are buying their own cars and apartments, successfully working multiple well paying jobs at the same time, with plans for the future...? Id like to know both how and why. How do you have the energy and why do you care. But even if they tell me the answers it doesnt change how i feel in my own life)

But this also has skewed my perception of other people... it connects to how i dont actually understand friendships anymore, im sure i mentioned it recently. Like with being an artist, there was a time i did understand and had deep friendships, i think, but it's quite alien to me now? In the way im not real until i have to interact with someone else, and even then, debatable, theyre not real to me either. Like i know this isnt a good mindset to have but it's either everything is real and i genuinely believe we need to disappear, to put an end to this sad species soon, or nothing is real and everyone's just playing a role in a story i get to watch. In a way taking away people's humanity and making them characters in my head is out of kindness, im being delusionally optimistic and quite frankly parasocial even with "friends", but it keeps me floating, stable. Ish. Still kind of empty but entertained enough. But then actually having a conversation outside my head with them is scary, unpredictable... on good days that can be fun too. My roommate always says i end up on side quests a lot if i leave the house, i think im just open to witnessing new stories... just on good, no, great days though, i cant stress that part enough. Great days are getting rarer and rarer. Most days pass by while im in bed and in my head trying to process anything, where i can barely have a coherent thought, and i wait for the day to end. Today was good for example but i still didnt manage to do anything to earn me the title of person, yet it was good because i 1. Ate, and 2. Didnt cry.

The part of your ask that hit me the most was when you said i seemed like a fascinating person, past tense. Im sure i was, but nowadays im very little even a person. Cant be helped. I hope i managed to explain how and why. If you ever want to share your art, my dms are open, i can maybe tell you about my gallery of failure wips i cant stand to look at anymore. I saw the followup ask with your personal info but im not quite sure what else to say... even this ask took too long to answer and now i need a nappp

[pomplalamoose]

hey omg I have this idea, could you maybe do headcanons (IF YOU WANT TO) abt enemies to lovers with Luke? Well, you can have it kinda be like a Mara Jade scenario where she needs to kill him but Luke doesn’t necessarily hate her. Honestly all up to you!

Hiii anon, thanks for your ask🩵 I really like the idea, so let's jump right into it!

• I find this to be a very interesting concept because there are so many possibilities how this could play out 

• across the galaxy there is a wide array of people that could have good reasons to hate Luke, even the ones that have never actually met him before 

• the reasons for said dislike can range from petty to understandable, depending wholly on whose side you are on

• imagine: you could be a fellow kid from Tatooine, having one sided beef with Luke because he was always the better pilot and shooting womp rats came to him easily, whereas you wanted nothing more than to beat him once but always failed 

• maybe Luke stole the love of your life right from underneath your nose without even realizing 

• maybe you hate him just because he made it off that hell hole of a planet and casually overthrew the Empire in the process 

• like, THAT COULD HAVE BEEN YOU and the jealousy is gnawing at you

• maybe you are a politician's assistant or the politician yourself and, because you can't stand Leia, hate Luke too, simply because they are related 

• possibly Luke's actions, unbeknownst to him, had a serious impact on your life; you are left reeling, trying your hardest to pick up the pieces left

• maybe you worked for Jabba and lost your job due to his death 

• alternatively you lost friends in the same battle that cost your boss his life 

• or maybe Jabba died before he could pay you your well deserved money

• and worse: you are responsible for caring for friends or family and now can't do that anymore because your employer is fucking dead

• maybe you had family or friends on the Death Star

• maybe you are part of what remains of the Empire 

• alternatively you could have been raised to hate and fight the Jedi, and now, that there is only one left, you want to end them one and for all

• either way: the only thing still keeping you from crumbling down, what keeps you going,  is the thought of revenge 

• no matter your motive, Luke will not hate you in return no matter what you do

• we have to be realistic here, that man didn't even hate his father and refused to kill the Emperor with his own hands

• so the whole enemy part is pretty much one sided, to him you are a slight annoyance at best 

• (additional reason to absolutely hate his guts)

• (personally I think it's hilarious but obviously you don't)

• there is nothing more infuriating than your sworn nemesis acknowledging your presence but not being really bothered by it 

• and why would he? 

• (going forward I'll assume your goal is to hurt him or possibly end his life)

• unless you have some serious outstanding skills, you wont be able to even get close enough to do any harm

• plus, it would be in your best interest to catch him alone, which in its own right is hardly implementable

• if you somehow get this far though, he will already know 

• it's basically impossible to sneak up on him, especially with murder on your mind 

• and taking on Luke wholly on your own? You wouldn't stand a chance 

• even though you could potentially be a trained fighter you are blinded by rage and thus not equipped to meet him at the same level he's on

• all of this, of course, doesn't mean that Luke would simply accept the way you keep trying to mess up him or his family 

• he might have developed lots of patience during his training and over the years but when the people he loves are in danger, he isn't playing around 

• (it doesn't matter that every single one of them is dangerous in their own right and can very well defend themselves)

• if you're lucky he only gets angry 

• but if you somehow manage to catch his interest and become subjected to his curiosity, you might as well turn yourself in straight away

• he will either make an effort to get you arrested, or alternatively, seek you out himself 

• abruptly the roles are going to be reversed; no longer will you be the hunter but instead the hunted 

• Luke will naturally want to know who you are and where you are from, what your occupation is or was and whether you are working alone 

• most importantly he'll want to hold you accountable for your actions 

• since he doesn't consider you a real threat he is able to take his time to methodically tire you out 

• he doesn't mind if you constantly manage to evade his grasp, he knows you will return again to try and hurt him

• eventually, if you like it or not, he'll get his chance to confront you 

• depending on your reaction, the results are different ones 

• if you insist on following your path, he'll see you punished according to your crimes

• if you're willing to engage in conversation/are reasonable enough, he will reach out, offer his help 

• you absolutely don't want to go to prison but his pity would make you feel similarly awful 

• it's easy to stoke hatred and to keep your anger burning when your target is, as far as you are concerned, a monster 

• however, coming face to face with Luke for the first time, you are thrown and your world, once again, is turned upside down 

• he is nothing like you imagined 

• he is kind, charming even, and not arrogant and blinded by pride, like you thought 

• above all he's so beautiful it hurts

• despite everything you did in order to bring him harm, he is ready to forgive you 

• and not only that: he offers his support, might even apologize and explain his point of view should you entrust him with the reason for your actions 

• while Luke does not expect you to do so, in fact doesn't demand anything, he still wants to come to an agreement 

• he's busy enough as it is and permanently keeping an eye out for you is, frankly, irritating 

• so what is it that you want? A stable job? A place to live? Money? Some other kind of compensation for what happened to you?

• it's hard to face the fact that maybe, just maybe, you were in the wrong all along 

• that he is, just like you, a survivor of the war and it's circumstances and did only what had to be done 

• (alternatively you are a Sith and want to admit to your faults even less)

• whatever the case, Luke will remain understanding and, should you refuse his help, won't judge you for it 

• if you promise to leave him and his family alone, he'll let you go

• it's all up to you and he won't pressure you into something your pride doesn't allow 

• he'll be happy to part ways peacefully, of course, but if that's not the case you'll still get your chance to stand by your word to not cross his path again 

• regretfully he does not disappear from your thoughts, no matter how much you try to forget about this embarassing encounter

• maybe you try to unfairly twist your interactions to make them fit your narrative

• it's not working though and with growing frustration you realize you want to, need to, see him again 

• only to accuse him of messing with your mind of course, no other reason (like taking a last look into his crystal blue eyes)

• if you can settle this once and for all, maybe he'll stop appearing in your dreams and leave you alone 

• surely this is all the doing of a Jedi and has nothing to do with a guilty conscience and a burning longing to be held in his arms

[fratricideknight]

top 5 merlin characters go !

AHHHH I LOVE THEM ALL I CAN'TTTTTT. bc i adore them all, i'll name them in no particular order depending on how compelling i think they are.

i can say that lancelot is my favourite in every way. listen. he's just so lovely and cool and softly spoken. and i just. i make jokes about him being perfect, but i honestly don't think he is. i might not like him if he was. he's sad and overly devoted to the point of self-ruin, and his humility and endless pursuit of nobility sometimes do more harm than good. e.g. when he left gwen bc arthur liked her without asking how she felt. he's "everything the knight's code stands for" so he's also something of an examination of the knight's code and its ethics?? where those ethics fail, where the rules must be bent for the sake of goodness (for instance, lance keeping merlin's secret even though he hates lying). which, of course, i want to see when watching a medieval chivalry show. he's just so compelling to me. he's just like me fr. i, in no way, shape or form, self-insert as sir lancelot. absolutely none. he was so underutilised. i was robbed of self-insert content. i am normal about him. not to mention his dynamic with every character he interacted with was gold. he deserved to spend time with more characters. e.g. morgana. i would KILL to have an arc about his response to the oppression of magic users and morgana's ideology. he trusts in systems of power and wants so desperately to be a knight of camelot - how would he respond when that quite possibly contradicts the righteous course of action?? which is more important to him?? would he be swayed by the allegiances of the people he loves, thereby showing a major chink in his nobility?? please. i need this to be explored more in fanon.

okay listen. gaius. it's widely acknowledged that his dynamic with uther is almost the grown-up version of merlin and arthur's. by the time season 5 rolls around, merlin has been groomed very well into becoming the next gaius. he would watch his kin burn at the stake for the sake of a "promised kingdom" "a better future" which he is convinced will be brought about by arthur even if he hates magic. literally what gaius did. he was kept alive despite practicing magic bc he was uther's friend and confidant. but he isn't just loyal to uther in the way that merlin becomes doggedly loyal to arthur. he also adores merlin. it's super interesting to think about where the hope for the chosen one who will help arthur unite albion ends and his devotion to his surrogate son begins. if he had to choose between merlin and arthur, who would he choose? has he been utterly sucked in by the prophecy like merlin eventually is or does he retain enough love for merlin that he would toss it aside? i need answers

morgana was done so, so unbelievably dirty. but she's so fucking interesting. i'm just gonna toss aside botched canon characterisation for a sec and talk about her arc like it was done well. she was uther's beloved ward, valued but (bc she didn't know she was his daughter) dispensable, unlike arthur. maybe uther would never execute his son, the crown prince and sole heir, but her? uther is so mad with hatred and emotionally withdrawn that she can't possibly know where she stands. she's plagued by haunting dreams which she swears show the future but can't discuss openly, with absolutely no one to turn to. her attempt to connect with the druids ends in their being slaughtered. when she finally knows she has magic, she is forced to watch her own father figure execute people like her, alone and scared. no one tells her anything, she is in the dark and utterly alone. she clings to the first person who tries to connect with her, who also happens to be her sister - a family relation who isn't, at least outwardly, pro murdering sorcerers. then her own friend, who tells her nothing, fucking poisons her. no explanation. the only one she receives is no doubt a twisted one from morgause. before, she was conflicted by her love for uther to the point that she couldn't go through with killing him, but when she finally reaches a stage where she must resolve to murder her own surrogate father because he's a horrible tyrant, she's the villain. she's told that it's not right to kill him, that she should stand by and watch him kill. by people she considered allies. then she learns that this bastard is actually her father ;_; and then the whole "mOrGanA wANtS tHe ThRonE" "sHe'S jUsT lIkE uThEr" arc begins and it all goes downhill. (it is absolute bullshit that morgana coveted power that badly 💀 she wanted to live in the woods with the druids before they were all murdered before her eyes. if she wants power, it's so she can change things, not for selfish reasons.) the writers had to make her do drastic, ooc things like shooting innocent citizens of camelot to turn her into a villain, bc she simply wasn't wrong lmaoooo. the girl who handed out food to the poor and rode out to defend a village outside of camelot's borders for her friend's sake suddenly despises both the people and her friends. feelings do not suddenly change that drastically, i'm afraid. if they added in something about morgause brainwashing her, it would make so much more sense, but if they did that then morgana would be a tragic antagonist and WE CAN'T HAVE THAT!!! SHE MUST MAKE POTIONS WITH BABIES' GUTS JUST BECAUSE!!!

nimueh was only around for one season but she was so interesting. she's kind of a mix between gaius and morgana. used to be uther's friend, but after being betrayed by him became vindictive. she, too, was labelled a villain for attempting to strike out at a nasty tyrant 💀 young women on this show are either arthur's love interests or villains, istg. instead of playing the "why did she go about hurting uther in an evil way?" card like i did with morgana, bc we never saw her before she turned "evil" and therefore cannot speak on the legitimacy of her characterisation, i'm just going to accept that she's willing to make innocent people suffer to hurt uther. in that way, the writers could have drawn a contrast between her and morgana; nimueh goes about bringing uther down in an immoral way, whereas morgana is righteous in her actions. but ofc. we can't have that. speaking again about her relationship with uther: she gives some level of insight into the person he was and the person he became. he wasn't brought up to hate magic but rather came to that - utterly illogical - conclusion on his own and was willing to toss aside a loyal friend and an entire group of people bc he could not bear the consequences of his own actions.

everything seems to come back to uther. he's at the centre of it all, the main driving force. without him the plot simply would not exist. he's irredeemable, literally a genocidal murderer. not to mention a man who betrays his friends and unfairly pressures his son and to an extent values his pride above his people. there is no redemption arc for him. which makes these little glimpses of something else so interesting. a broken husband mourning his wife, a father worried for his son, a man haunted by visions of what he did. the concept that he built camelot from the ground up commends him as a good ruler, and to an extent he is. he's jaded, and makes heartless but practical decisions, unlike arthur in the early seasons, but ultimately he cares for the kingdom over his own son. as time goes on and arthur's burden increases, even he - our lovable hero - becomes more like uther. how did uther's rise to power change him like arthur's did? i wonder if uther built camelot with magic and what tearing out that essential pillar of his kingdom felt like. if he feels lost without its support, if he regretted his decision but his pride and the weight of what he'd already done just caused him to double down harder to avoid holding himself accountable. again, he's irredeemable, but he deserves good faith character analysis which many people don't afford him in favour of calling him profanities. understandable - but still.

it genuinely caused me great amounts of pain to choose. i mean it when i say i love all of them, and could wax poetic about them as characters. i think the reason 3 of the core 4 aren't on the list is bc they were around for so long that the writers had plenty of time to botch their arcs and it was just so much more pronounced with them. the way arthur wasn't allowed to hold an intelligent thought for more than 2 seconds?? the way gwen was gradually reduced to just "star-crossed love interest"?? it frustrates me so much that i'm not naming them just to be petty tbh. morgana suffered the worst, imo. they did her so dirty that i just want to toss aside canon and talk about her potential.

anyway. apologies for that essay. thanks for asking!!!

[happymetalgirl]

Listening to Problematic Bands

This is a segment taken from my Lingua Ignota review awhile ago that focuses on the aforementioned topic, and I figured I would give its own separate post. I made a few edits to make it more generally applicable and of course a few additional thoughts. It’s an interesting topic of discourse with a lot of facets and it’s certainly not going away any time soon.

The problematic artist discourse is complicated, I get it; I don't have a golden bullet answer to it. But somehow in all the discourse I've seen about being responsible and not supporting problematic artists and not enabling shitty behavior, I haven't seen anyone acknowledge the obvious elephant in the room, which is that fans don't want to be punished for something they didn't do.

As listeners, watchers, readers, viewers, enjoyers of art, we all (should) go into enjoying any piece of art with the understanding that, no matter how authentic they may come off in their music or their public appearance, we never fully know the artist. We can't know with complete certainty who of them might be up to some unsavory shit behind closed doors, even the edgy ones, some of whom genuinely do keep their antics on the stage and in the studio. And often the art we enjoy does indeed stand so far away from the artist that we don't think about the artist at all (think: lo-fi hip hop beats to study/relax to). And then there are some (think: asshole Mark Kozelek and his dumb boomer podcast ramblings that he calls "songs") who really put themselves as a person into their art. A little harder to dissociate that kind of shit.

I agree with minimizing support for artists doing bad shit on the basis of it possibly discouraging such behavior from others and it consequentially pressuring them to change, but that can be surprisingly hard to go absolute zero on and draw a line on. Does it stop at the band? Does it stop at the label? Does it stop at side projects? Does it stop at collaborators who haven't come out and said anything? But just because there's no agreed-upon line does not mean that we should just shrug our shoulders and say "well what can you do?" Ultimately, as an individual, the answer to that is pretty much nothing, but somehow you add up enough individuals and you can start to get some good change if you all know that better things are possible and expectable. Maybe you don't all agree exactly how much more you deserve but you sure as hell know it's more than that shit boss is paying you all. Maybe we don't know exactly where we draw that "problematic artist" line, but we know the behavior Hayter described of Alexis Marshall is far beyond wherever we draw it. Being attentive as a listener, however casual or invested, is not about being a paranoid hyperreactive sentinel around artists and trying to have a power trip on people you have little individual power over, and it's certainly not about policing individual fans into not listening to their Antichrist Superstar CD or whatever. Again, I get that vile behavior makes some artists immediately more repulsive and easy to let go of at the drop of a hat, and it's easier for some to drop band they've listened to forever than others. And then I think of my favorite band, Meshuggah.

I listen to Meshuggah more than anything else probably. And to my knowledge they don't have any accusers or hold any racist beliefs or anything of the like, but they could. And as much as I imagine it would very likely taint my listening to their music if everything I hypothetically proposed was in fact true for them, I have a hard time imagining not listening to them. How I listen to music has been so irreversibly shaped by Meshuggah, I tap the iconic rhythm of "Bleed" with my fingers on every surface around me without even thinking about it, and I hear Meshuggah in the thousands of bands they've influenced. I snuck Meshuggah into my wedding playlist. It's honestly hard to think about what my music-loving life would look like without Meshuggah, and in some ways it feels impossible, and for me (and probably most Meshuggah fans) it has never been about Jens or Fredrick or Martin or Tomas or Dick. And it doesn't seem like it's ever been about them to themselves either. So I get it for fans who feel torn between their love for the music and their feeling betrayed or that it's been tainted by the very artist that made it.

The whole "separate the art from the artist" cliché tends to be invoked pretty superficially and left at that as just an excuse to not think critically about listening and supporting choices. There is validity to our ability to compartmentalize the two, but viewing art in a vacuum where the artist doesn't exist is reductive, and choosing to only assess art though that lens because grappling with the complicated, dicey, or uncomfortable context surrounding an artist and their art is and lazy and cowardly.

-

When the Me Too movement kicked off, revealing the extensive abuse of power that went on often in plain sight did really shock the system of music and film, but it also came as no surprise that there were a significant number of power-tripping rapists and abusers within the upper echelons of politics and entertainment. Abusable power and influence tends to draw people that want that power at least partly for the sake of abusing it. My initial (naïve) expectation that Me Too would open up the festering abscess of well-connected, powerful abusers and allow them to be drained from the positions they abused. I expected it to be a tumultuous process, for the industry and for fans; it is definitely hard to grapple with a series of revelations of artists you might have liked to be revealed as horrible people behind the scenes. I can only imagine how pop punk fans feel. But I expected it to be relatively quick, like amputating a gangrenous digit.

Unfortunately, nearly a decade later, musicians, actors, producers, etc. are still being revealed for what they truly are, and it's evident that sexual abuse within the arts and entertainment is not a matter of one rotten digit but rather a sepsis that requires intense systemic treatment to fully cure. I don't think it's as much of a matter of abuse-hungry monsters being drawn to positions of power the way the U.S. police systematically attracts and grooms pathologic liars and untreated anger management cases. I think that's part of it, and I think power can definitely corrupt too. But ultimately, I think the extent of abuse is due largely to the attitudes endemic to the broader culture and (un)consciously accepted as normal that surround sex, consent, and abuse that still frame absolutely pathologic behaviors, manipulations, and violations of consent as natural methods of pursuit. It's also the general social framing of sex as a pursuit by one sex and avoidance by the other that perpetuates this, but that's too much of a tangent to go off on.

Obviously, sexual abuse by band members is not the only route for bands to be problematic. Metal is an old enough genre for its once rebellious and transgressive Gen X and even boomer pioneers to now be the out-of-touch pearl-clutchers putting their feet in their mouths and unwilling to learn where they don't understand in favor of reactionary stagnation and decay. We also have no shortage of outright racists and neo-Nazis, some of whom are just too beloved for the culture at large to reckon with, which (for lack of a more resonant term) seems pretty cucked to me. Like, we're worried about reckoning with the racism of so many of the big figureheads in the genre because, what? Metal is dependent on them? You can't let go of Phil Anselmo? We can't imagine that if Peter Steele were still alive his legacy of goth metal pioneering could be tainted by some kind of anti-vax-jizz-is-better nutjob winging about cancel culture if not outright commitment to the iffy Nazi bits he teased in his music? That's fucking weak? Metal as a genre culture looks fucking pathetic clinging onto these toxic idols like we can't do better. The people that whine about "cancel culture run amok" don't care about metal's culture surviving; they've listened to the same shit for 30 years and don't want to feel bad about being uncritical of the metal comfort food from their teens that they still consume. Part of maintaining the health of a culture is having the guts to be critical and recognize when toxicity from toxic people needs to be addressed for what it is, even if those toxic people are legends, even if that legendary band's legacy becoming sour in retrospect is hard to think about.

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 175 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: cutting the French tamarisk in my garden.

Ahh, love the sirens, they sound very similar to the typical nuclear alarm sirens. I really like that tone, it's relaxing I think... which is absolutely not what these were made for, lol... It also reminds be a bit of 28 Days/Weeks Later, because that song, In a House in a Heartbeat, is often mashed up with those sirens.

I think the idea of mainly describing what items or animals would look like in an post-apocalyptic wasteland is cool!

That warped sound of a croaking bird during the book section is really cool!

"Item: A laughable umbrella." This has to be the absolute best statement section there is xD That poor umbrella! What's it done to deserve this S1 prick!Jon treatment?

"A human bone, that much is clear; too big to be a child’s, at least. Can a bone seem familiar? The shape of it echoing through your mind, like a face seen only in dreams? It may be followed up to a ribcage." Oh, actually, that reminds me... What happened to Jon's rib when he exploded Jared? Did it just vanish with him? Probably, since it doesn’t come up again. Any funny headcanons?

[A STEP, SOME GROANING, THE JANGLE OF BAGS, AND CREAKING OF WHAT IS PRESUMABLY A COUCH AS MARTIN SITS.] JON: "How is it?" MARTIN: "Great! (creak from the couch) It’s great. Lovely couch." There is also liquid to be heard whenever Martin moves on the couch, though I don't know if there's just a puddle supposed to be at Martin's feet or if the couch itself protrudes some sort of liquid... Either way, there is so much regret in Martin's voice and he is just too stubborn to admit it XD

JON: "Right. Well, rest up, I suppose!" MARTIN: "It’s two-seater!" JON: (you are not getting me on that thing) "Yes it is!" [BRIEF PAUSE, IN WHICH THERE IS A SLIGHT AMUSED EXHALE AND ANOTHER CREAK OF THE COUCH.] JON (CONT’D): "Hard pass, thank you." Martin be like "Pls, share this regret with me!!!" xD Or maybe he genuinely wanted a bit of cuddle time with Jon... just maybe... xD

MARTIN: (creak as he shifts) "So it was real then, the Extinction?" JON: "Of course it was real – A-At least in the sense that – it was a thing people feared. Whether it was strong enough in its own right to be considered at a level with Smirke’s Fourteen, or – whether it was on its way to getting there, I – maybe. This sort of thing is always muddy." Still hung up on Smirke's categorization. I've heard theories/headcanons before, that it didn't even had to be 14 marks on Jon, and that just a bunch of them would have sufficed, since dividing the fears is really muddled anyway. So it wouldn't have mattered, if the Extinction had emerged in a bigger way, not for the mass ritual. I generally like that idea.

JON: "But – mostly he was just like anyone else who tried to take the scope of human terror and – (small inhale) package it neatly into little theories." Yeah, that.

MARTIN: "D’you know if – like – gods, religion, the afterlife, all that stuff. Do you know if any of that was real?" JON: (exhale, a bit amused) "Really rolling out the big questions today." MARTIN: "Sorry, it’s just – this place just brings it out in me, I guess." [SLIGHT STATIC KICKS IN AGAIN.] JON: "If there is a god, or gods, or an existence beyond this world, the Eye can’t see it. It sees the fear of it, but – nothing of its truth." Super cool, that this was acknowledged and got really good, believable dodge!

MARTIN: (cutting him off) "I, I know what you meant! I can still be keen to see our friends!" Friends, plural! So Martin does consider Daisy a friend? He did spend some time with her post coffin, so he definitely noticed she had changed, but still Jon spend a lot more time with her. Still nice to see, that it actually was the Lonely talking, when he pushed Daisy away, telling her none of them are actually friends... Also! Jon does prepare Martin here for what’s to come. I think if he already suspected Trevor to also arrive at the same time, he would have told Martin in time. Since that is something that Jon gets criticized for. I think it was actually just bad luck in timing. But yeah, we’ll get to that part in a bit. 

@a-mag-a-day

[maareyas]

alright i've recovered from the heart-shattering and i can put my thoughts about Octopath Traveler 2 into words now.

Gameplay is great, Visuals are great (though somewhat overwhelming with the light effects when you just start playing), Stories ranged from great to eeeeh, Characters are all mostly great too

overall experience is 10/10! This game has rewired my brain in some way and i don't know what

less succinct rambles below

I love this game so much I don't know how I'll ever recover from it. The exploration alone was so much fun, the concept of path actions and the day/night mechanic is so good. It reminds me of my favorite turn-based RPGs from when I was a teen. But nostalgia has nothing to do with how good this game is, it's so genuinely fun and I wish there was more stuff for me to do alksjdlakjsd

And the music!! I love the music. I wish the dungeons got more unique themes but given how many there are + the amount of banger character motifs we got, I understand why the devs decided not to do that lkasjdlksajd

now though, gotta talk about the main selling point of this game: The Narrative✨

Ochette was my starter but tbh my favorite tales have to be Castti and Throne's. Partitio was a close second and honestly, the most consistent in quality to me.

Following his is Hikari's tale, since I feel like it had some untapped potential. He's very...idek, Classic Samurai Hero™ (I say that as if I've seen enough samurai/East Asian swordsman media to know) Disgraced prince, heart of gold, honorable to a fault, evil shadowself--the works. I don't think his shadowself was utilized as much as it could've been, but I can see why since they have to fit an entire journey into a few chapter's worth of cutscenes.

Temenos is in the same rank. He's a fun character to follow and I love the mystery aspect. Solid overall but I wish it had more personal stakes for Temenos aside from avenging Roi (who deserved more screentime imo), the pontiff, and Crick

Ochette is slightly lower overall but BOY did her final boss hurt me emotionally and in battle :''D She's one of my favorites As a Character too

Osvald's story is interesting and well-executed, with a satisfying ending, but it's not really my taste and as a character, he's kinda boring to watch unless there's someone else to play off him ksjdlkas like his and Parti's Crossed Paths tale. That plot twist with Elena's brainwashing was brutal, tbh. I love it.

Agnea...still has a weak story to me 😅 I like how bright it was, especially compared to the others, but like with Hikari, I feel like there could have been more done with it. It just felt too light, y'know? None of the stakes feel too hitting even on a personal level. I like Agnea but I don't love her, yknow?

honestly, if these were truly individual stories, I would seen them as only "pretty good" at best. But their "brevity" plays well into making them feel like parts of interconnected whole--of Solistia. Each journey is different, but not above nor below the others, if that makes sense. I love that vibe of it ✨

THE EXTRA STORIES THOUGH that was. kinda bad in hindsight. It should've been its own campaign instead of just One Episode 😭 Or like, had any proper build up at all. All the plotwists either feel like they came out of nowhere, or added as an afterthought. The whole episode felt like an afterthought. They hit hard, but not in a way that's satisfying :^( The NPCs don't even acknowledge the eternal night aside from maybe those at Flamechurch cathedral.

In general I think the game struggles with leaving a bunch of lore bits unresolved. Claude's entire existence is the most obvious example. He's just hanging out ig. grandson of D'arquest, with Vide blood, Throne was supposed to be some "Vessel" we don't elaborate on that??? p l s. Arcanette being immortal??? literally WHO is she aside from the Moonshade Order's leader?? are the two of them the characters from that fairytale that keeps being brought up? and like. that thing with Trosseau and Castti apparently just walking around Lostseed to collect herbs when Lostseed, to me, was implied to be "hidden".

much to think about. Or maybe I just missed a lot of things, like that detail with Roi being the monster that Ochette fought in her chapter 1

I love this game and its worldbuilding graaaahhhh i wish Extra Stories was better :^(

[thegeminisage]

they call it the river of the dead bc i died 10000 times trying to get korok seeds here

ANOTHER shrine in a cave on the great plateau. 10/10 i love that

i keep getting nothing but shields in chests and its starting to piss me off. i dont use them much, i havent broken a single one this whole game. give me literally ANYTHING else!!

died in the shrine when i was alllmost done. smh

DIED AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!

deeply tempted to turn around and leave but No. i'm so close

I FUCKING. GOT IT. FUCK THAT SHRINE!!!!

placed one of my travel medallions at the REAL temple of time. i never have to walk back here again lol

not that i need to come back...i'm finishing up the great plateau korok hunt right here. i have one left that starts elsewhere and ends on the great plateau but im at nearly 200 seeds rn and ive been making myself cuckoo bananas hunting seeds so i deserve a sidequest break. i'm thinking the rito bridge is a good place 2 start

BUT FIRST, MY AMIIBO! i keep foprgetting to do these lol

YOOOOOO mirror of twilight fabric!!! sexy

AND demon king fabric.....

accidentally spawned another epona. rode hr out to where the other horses were so she has community support lol

AWWW there's another monument near the great plateau...

ok, so i talked to karson in lookout landing ages back abt building this bridge. i think now they need supplies?

oh, i like how these guys refer to each other by name! i love the community feeling in totk...the way everybody wants to be a helper...

oh lmao i literally have enough wood already <3 maybe this is why they made trees enemies, to give us reasons to chop them up so we dont have to level entire forests at a time

OH HE SAID ACES!!!! good for him

SCREAM this dialogue. wings come in handy! or...wingy! don't sit your tail there, it's a support beam, not a perch! chaotic gay people <3 happy pride <3

had the brief thought "since i'm in hebra i should get some korok seeds here" no <3 not without <3 snow boots <3

which i havent seen any sign of...UGH i hope they arent still in gerudo desert...

im going to hateno!! i've been meaning to give this guy acorns for his cow feed for foreverrr

but, to do the school quest, i need to swing by kakariko first...thank goodness4 fast travel

ugh so many sidequests in kakariko i wanna do but i feel like i should wait until this 5th sage nonsense SIIIGH

ok, got the pic of the tapestry in paya's house! also accidentally saw the cuccos running by, followed them to their hideout. extremely tense trying to bust thru the rock wall with them standing there. no way was i using yunobo

BUT i was at a perfect angle to take a ring ruins pic for the stable guy!

found lasli who needs the anti-gloom stuff...UGH i hate that nobody remembers link!!! ugh and i need milk for this which i dont have >:(

well, i bet there's some in hateno and i was going there anyway lol

NAYDRA WAS HERE WHEN I SPAWNED........snaged myself a scale. UGH i can't believe they fucked dragon farming i'm in such deep shit i don't have ANY parts

acorns delivered, milk received! omg nice he'll trade me anytime.......reminds me of the rito lady trading arrows for chillshrooms lol now THAT was a bargain

got my mirror of twilight fabric put on 💪

oh man it is LOVELY. it has a nice rainbow-pearl sheen to it...it might be my fav yet

time to go appease schoolchildren

scream that link is listening in on this calamity lecture like he wasn't the main character in it without so much as a single acknowledgement of it by this dude. yet another way theyre alienating old players by trying NOT to alienate new ones

this guy talking up the hero's achievements WITHOUT ACTUALLY MENTIONING THAT IT IS LINK. this is my villain origin story

oh boy. for the next lesson i have to get monster extract from tarrey town. i have the car quest there i never finished, but maybe i should do more shrines/seeds first...

i haven't been to the depths in awhile.

that is DEFINITELY the devil (and many korok seeds) talking. actually i can decide tomorrow bc i have to <3 go to bed

[seedofgaia]

Though I doubt many will believe it, I will tell my story in the hopes that some of you do.

In our collapsing world, we have killed our gods. Not out of hate or malice or even blind ambition, but out of shame. When men burn forests and poison the earth, what god could there be? After being tossed around from one minimum wage job to another my entire life, God was either cruel, or more likely, imaginary.

Sometimes after working shifts, I would wander across the city. I looked for a respite from the horrors of the world, a calm island in the wild sea. I didn't find it. What I found were skyscrapers sneering at me with their cold glass faces. Our modern lords, filled with greed and spite. Under their watchful gaze, the decay of homes, the rot of advertisements, the screams of sirens, and the howl of engines. I barely felt human under it all. I felt like an ant, waiting to be crushed under their shoe.

After one particularly rough morning shift, I wandered under the furious sun. On my walk, I found an abandoned lot. What once might have been a lush and beautiful forest was now compacted dirt and debris. The life compacted and razed for profit. Not even the microbes survived. It was devestating, what we humans had done to nature. We had tried to yoke it to industry and in the end, had killed it and us. We didn't deserve it at all. This was not a place of honor; nowhere was anymore.

As I began to leave, I saw the flicker; a spark in a cold night. I turned back and spotted a lowly dandelion growing. It grew unperturbed, standing proud over its kingdom of scars. I pitied it, its quiet beauty belonged to some distant field, not in this callous place. I could save it, I thought, pluck it from the earth and plant it. Or maybe keep it, hide it from the cruel world and save it for myself. The world did not deserve to see its rough beauty. The world that had thrown it away to this god forsaken lot, along with everything not profitable enough to keep up.

So I walked onto the lot and towards the flower. Older washers and piles of shattered bricks, the monuments of better times, watched my travel. They would rot away someday soon as well. Maybe in a million years, but nothing of our self-destructive impulses would survive. The world will heal without us, eventually. But as I bent down to pluck the dandelion, I heard a voice barely a whisper, say.

"Stop"

I jumped back and looked around. Nobody. The world was filled with the silence of car engines again. Once again I bent down to pick the flower. Once again, the voice shouted.

"Stop!"

The voice was louder. It sounded like it was in the lot now. I looked, nothing. I reached. And this time, the voice's shout drowned out all other noise. 

"Halt!"

I fell back into the hard dirt. There was nothing but me, the rubble, and the dandelion. 

"Child," the voice commanded. "Look at me."

"Where are you?" I said. 

"Look towards what you desire," the voice said.

I looked towards the dandelion. It was merely a weed on a barren lot, nothing more.

"Good, now we can begin."

I scrambled to my feet, my eyes darting around the lot for anything human. I was alone.

"Who's fucking with me? Show yourself!"

"There is nobody but me," the voice said. It had the resonance of a home-cooked meal, of a soft sleep, of home. "Now sit and listen."

"I'm going insane." I really did think I was going insane. That the hammer of my mind broke on the anvil of the cruel world. A dandelion was talking to me.

"You are not child, now sit."

I sat on a discarded milk crate nearby, shaded by rubble. I thought that if I rested long enough, the voice would go silent. It was nice. A soft breeze blew through my sweat soaked hair. It reminded me of summers before the heat. 

"My child, I am very real." 

I decided that refusing to respond and acknowledge my delusions was the best bet. Closing my eyes, another gust of wind blew across me and I felt at peace. The voice continued.

"Has my child forgotten me so? I, who birthed you of my own flesh?" It said. "The children who now kill their siblings and scar their mother?"

"What the fuck do you want?" I said without thinking.

"I want you to open your eyes and see me, my child." It said.

    I tried to keep my eyes shut, but some force much more powerful than my will followed its orders. My eyelids opened a crack. And in that moment, She revealed herself to me. 

The dandelion, so insignificant before, began to grow. Its roots dug into the hardened soil around it, spreading out in a million directions. From those roots, life radiated out from the dandelion. First came lichens, a white wolf that devoured the dirt and rubble around me. When there was no more to eat, the white wolf starved and died as if that was its life purpose. From the corpse, grass erupted. They grew little before dying. The next generation lived longer and stood taller, as did the one after them. The flowers, seeing their opportunity to shine, invited themselves in. Golden poppies, sapphire browallia, and flowers I didn't even know the names of bobbed in the wind, petals drifting as the seasons passed like paint strokes of a jade canvas. They too grew and died and grew and died, changing as artists putting their all into their art. Their colors swam around the green sea, never staying put.

The grasses, unbothered by their flighty companions, continued to grow. They poked and prodded at my clothes, my skin, my being. I was the stranger in their world. The world, once full of the stench of exhaust and garbage was filled with the fragrance of lemon grass, of pollen, of life. Bushes, late to the party, abruptly grew and scattered about the prairie, growing plump with berries. Mice and rabbits scrambled between bushes, feasting in joy. Taking cue, trees grew from lonely children to merry adults. Sspen, pine, willow, and alder competed for the sun in light-hearted games. The trees grew and died and grew and died, their children expanding until the meadow was cloaked in shadows by their green dresses. The grasses felt no ill will despite this, they shrunk back down to more modest sizes, asking only for the morsels of sunlight that slipped through. Squirrels and birds found new homes in the trees, singing praise in their chirps and chittering. A deer wandered in and chewed on some grass. From the shade, oaks, spruce, and maples grew and grew until they towered over all, covering the world in green shade. An equilibrium was reached and all was calm again.

The dandelion still stood, basking on a throne of sunshine. No other plant dared steal it from her. I took a breath. My dehydrated lungs drank the fresh air  The silence was deafening. The beauty blinding. I sobbed as I fell onto my knees. Soft grass and clod cushioned my fall.

"Whatever you are," I sobbed. "Take pity on me... please."

"There is no need for pleas," She said. "I am merely a mother calling out to her lost child."

"My mom is dead," I said. "Her ashes were scattered by the winds to some better place."

"Part of your mother's spirit is in this dandelion, part is in a warm breeze in Brazil, part in an olive tree in Greece, and so many more. Your mother is alive in innumerable others."

My brain found nothing to respond with, my mouth found the taste of tears.

"But I am not that mother of yours," She continued. "I am the mother of your mother and every mother, big and small. I am the mother of all."

"Then who are you?" I managed to sputter out.

"I am the dirt and air that feeds it, the stone and the water that eats it, I am the mountains, and I am the sand. I am your mother."

"How?"

"I was the one who gave a pound of my flesh so that life could start in that chemical soup. And with my breath, I bore the first of your spirits. I am who guided the changes and improvements, from the single cell microbes to everything around you. Every time your heart beats, your lungs breathe, your muscles contract and relax, I birthed it into being."

"But most importantly, I watched as pieces from millions of my children's spirits make you. I watched as the grains of them mingle, catch one another, rally around, cheer, laugh, cry, mourn. I watched as they grew, their past lives blending, becoming less and less distinct from one another. They had decided to build something unique, to give back in new life. And as it solidified, I began to see less of them, and more of you." She paused as if tears were catching her voice. "And when they were finished, you were born. It was beautiful."

"Why?"

"Because my children have forgotten me, have forgotten their siblings. They have been led astray by their own ideas of dominance over us all. I wish to bring you home."

"But why me," I asked. "Am I special or something?"

"Your body is the product of 3.7 billion years of evolution. Your spirit is made of parts of millions of your past siblings. Every one of my children is so unique and fleeting. I see you only for a blink of an eye, and then you're gone, never to be seen again."

"But why tell me this?"

"You are not the first of your species I have talked to, you will not be the last."

"So what are you going to tell me? That humans are a virus, that science and technology is a sin and that we need to become cavemen again?"

She laughed. It sounded like when I told my mom a silly joke when I was a kid. It was pure and light and carried a soft melody on its back. It filled a part of me I hadn't realized was starving.

"No my child," She said, the last notes of her laugh drifting away. "Your ability to create is one of the most beautiful things about your species. It is everything I wanted from you and more. I want all my children to share in the act of creation, and you have done more than my wildest dreams. My human children are not the virus. Hardly."

The joy that danced on her voice stopped. "The virus is in your beautiful minds, one which you created. It formed when you forgot your siblings and I. It festered in the societies you build and the people who run them. It has made you believe that you and your world are superior from the rest of your family. To treat us not as even living things, but as resources to be used. To turn that thinking onto each other." She paused. "I have seen things I never thought my children possible of."

"But what can I do about that? It's impossible to change."

"People have made this virus, helped it grow, and built societies around it. People can just as easily destroy it."

"But I'm just one person."

"Then it is up to you to tell your siblings to join you and fight."

"And what am I supposed to tell them?"

"Tell them this,"

"First, humans are not separate from nature, you are its children. You are one of the trillions of children I have, but that does not make you insignificant. You are each made up of millions of parts, but that does not make you derivative. You as a species, as a person are wholly unique and loved by me, now and forever more."

"Second, the societies humans build are not separate from nature, but are part of it. You build and change your environment just as much as any one of your siblings do. The materials you use do not make it different. I just hope someday that you integrate your other siblings' environments into yours." 

"Third, nature is change and change is natural. My children are always changing and adapting and evolving. Both their bodies and their spirits. Stagnation is the ultimate rejection of nature, the supreme poison. Stagnation is to be avoided if possible, and fought against if necessary."

"Four, all beings are a reflection of nature's sacredness. But do not be scared that by consuming nature, you are desecrating it. All of my children have their cycles of life, and in their death, their body gifts sustenance, their spirit gifts life. But it is a gift must be repaid in some way."

"Five, relate to other species and the land as you would your family. From the smallest microbe to the biggest fish, each blade of grass and every bird in the sky, you all share the same breath I gave. All of you are loved and cherished by me."

"Six, this role has been subverted by your obsession with domination and endless growth. Your societies are full of many forms of this illness, and from these societies you have built, the virus of domination and endless growth continues its spread."

"Seven, domination over each other is unnatural, and must be replaced with free association among all parts of nature. You as humans build this virus and the systems which let it grow; you as my children can replace those systems and kill it. You must replace domination with free association between the members of your species and with your other siblings, as the rest of them already do."

"Eight, your instinct for mutual aid is a natural instinct. As it is for all of my children. The idea that competition is what's natural is part of the virus. Reciprocity is what unites our family together, not conflict."

"Nine, nature cannot be owned. It must be shared and maintained by all. You cannot own your sibling, nor can you own my body. You must share it in common between all and all must care for it. It is how you honor your siblings and how you honor your mother."

"Is that all?" I asked. "What about sins? Death? Meaning of life?" 

She laughed. "My precocious child, patience! Let me finish."

Deep in my body, shame bubbled, as if I was a child caught stealing a cookie.

"Don't feel shame for curiosity my child. It is what drew you to my call in the first place," She continued. "There are six great offenses you can do to your siblings and your mother."

"The first and greatest is Stagnation, trying to stop change or go back to some past time. By attempting to hold back the tide of evolution, you kill your mother, your siblings, and yourself. You kill our bodies, our minds, our spirits."

"The second is Domination. By attempting to dominate your siblings or your mother, you not only harm them, but yourself with its poison. No hierarchy is just, no ruler good. Domination leads to stagnation always."

"The third is Discrimination. To judge and hate your sibling leads only to disaster. It rots your mind and body with its affliction, transforming you into an abominable shell of yourself. Discrimination leads to domination always." 

"The fourth is Greed. To try and hoard more than you need while your siblings hungers starves all. To try and grow without limit only leads to the degradation of all. Greed leads to discrimination always."

"The fifth is Apathy. To stand idle while others suffer makes one no better than the abuser. To be meek in the face of injustice only leads to its propagation. Apathy leads to greed always."

"The last is Isolation. To isolate yourself from your mother and your siblings only leads to your own doom. For without all working together equally, we all suffer. Isolation leads to apathy always."

"All harm spawns from these, but not all offenses are worthy of damnation. For lesser offenses, let the offended make the terms of forgiveness, and let the offender follow those terms without expecting any. Only then will the offense be healed for all."

"What about the offenses that are worthy of damnation?" I said

"Then their spirit will stay stuck and rotting, unable to divide and reform as something new. Unless those they've wronged have forgiven them, they shall remain whole and alone. Some stay with their rotting body, others wander the earth in search of salvation," She said. "Some eventually move on, but those whose dishonor is unforgivable by all are doomed to be degraded until their very spirit is but a shameful whisper."

"What can any of us do to honor you or our siblings?" 

"There are many ways to honor us all. Offering and prayer is one way. Reciprocity is innate to all my children. If you tell your siblings about your problems and give them an offering or promise to, they will listen and help. Likewise, do the same onto them."

"Acts of devotion are another, to do activities in our honor. Whether that be, from cleaning up your siblings homes or fighting for them, they will see and act in kind for you when you most need it."

"Discussion is paramount. Talk about your beliefs together, write about how you honor us and publish it, be open to disagreements and differences. But discuss your life as well. Joke with the tree that shades your home, sing a tune for the bushes on your walk, talk about your joys and sorrows with the rivers and wind."

"So we're supposed to do this alone? I thought isolation was the first step to stagnation?" I asked.

"Hardly. If possible, do it collectively with your fellow believers. Clean a creek together to honor me and your siblings who use it. Grow a community garden and give the fruits of your labor to the less fortunate. Share stories, beliefs, and practices together. It is the best way to honor us all."

"But what if I am alone in this worship?"

"You are not, you are merely isolated from your like minded siblings. Do not worry about worshiping alone until you find them."

"And when I tell them about you, what name shall I use?" I asked

"You can call me Gaia."

A car horn blew and with it, some sacred feeling was shattered. The harsh city heat sun seeped back into my world.

"It seems my time with you right now has been cut short," She said. Around me, the trees lost their leaves, fell, and rotted. The animals fled for better lands. Their pace was not out of agile fear or quick rage, but a slow march of mourning.

She laughed again, musical as ever, but weak. I heard that bittersweet song once before. "My child, I am not leaving you," She said, her voice fragile as a blade of grass. "I will be there in the earth you walk upon, the air you breathe, in summer rain and winter snow. I am in all my children. Perhaps you will not hear from me again, but you will feel me wherever you go." The bushes crumbled into kindling, the leaves into tinder.

"But what if I forget your truths?" I asked. The grass itself was receding, leaving nothing but bare dirt. "What if my words fail to convince my siblings?"

"You won't," She said, her weak voice full of joy and unfounded pride. "I believe in you, my child. Trust me." 

I felt my heart shatter and mix with the blood of my siblings. Then all that was left was the dandelion.

"Farewell, my child," she said in barely a whisper. "Believe in me and your siblings."

And then she was gone.

I don't know how long I knelt there, my tears attempting to revive her. After I had no more sorrow left to give, I looked up. I found myself once again in the abandoned lot, the sun where it was before. I picked myself up and began my task.

While writing this, I walked past the lot again. It's now blanketed in Dandelions; a quilt of yellow and green, carefully sewn to wrap the scarred earth. I couldn't help but to smile. For Gaia blesses even the most forgotten.

[starsofparadise]

paper cuts

to the many, many tiny cuts in my life that will never properly fade away. 

you know how sometimes, you aren’t even aware you have a paper cut until you use hand sanitizer? you don’t know the existence of a faint, red cut, worn with time on your hand, until one squeeze of the clear sanitizer onto it. wait for it. 3…2…1. boom.

it’s weird how the searing hot feeling just spreads through your veins and you feel like you can’t breathe. you stifle a scream at the sudden pain. all of a sudden, it hurts so much, but just a second ago you had no idea the cut even existed. 

the process of pain and healing is just like that, and it’s inevitable.

sometimes, you don’t even know there’s a part of you that’s still hurt until something comes along that forces you to be aware of it, forcing you to deal with it, forcing you to just look it in the eye. it wants you to say you’re okay, still. so it can hurt you more, cut you deeper while you try your best to deny it, to not acknowledge its existence. so people won’t change their attitude towards you.

but it's hard to say you’re okay, just because of the tears that are welling up in your eyes even at the mere sight of that tiny, small cut, when you wonder how a cut of that size can hurt you so much. 

but it does, surprisingly. and maybe, you finally admit you aren’t. that’s good, because bearing excruciating pain alone is hard, and pain is not only one paper cut, because everyone gets those at least once in a while in their lives. 

pain is hundreds of thousands of paper cuts, carving into your skin simultaneously at the same time. pain is not knowing what you did to deserve that kind of suffering. 

healing is not treating one paper cut and knowing its existence, either. it’s discovering the perfection of your body among – with, or without – those paper cuts. 

i feel like the cuts are inevitable, but as hard as it is, with time, they fade. they fade until the scars are gone, and all that is left is the lingering reminder of the stinging pain on your fingers every time you touch sanitizer. then, you slowly become wary and careful whenever you do. 

slowly, though, that long process, healing, ends. you feel like the hard work is worth it. you’re no longer extremely mindful of every single step you take for the hand sanitizer that’s about to come, since you understand that it won’t hurt you anymore. you begin to step out of your comfort zone, feeling invincible. 

i wish i could tell you that it’s a happy story, that it ends just like that. but in life, nothing’s perfect. paper cuts, bristles in the bushes, may cut you when you’re the least suspecting, the least expectant that it’ll happen. and that is when the process of healing ends, and where it starts, all over again. 

i’m not saying it’s bad, because this is life. you get cuts, you recover from them, and inevitably, you get cuts again. but you shouldn’t cut yourself, you shouldn’t tell yourself you’re not enough. 

and i guess that’s enough. to be you, to be the person who you are. 

remember, when paper cuts happen, the victim isn’t just your hand, it isn’t just some miniscule happening. the victim is you. and the cuts aren’t just cuts, they’re not just red tiny scratches on your hand. it deserves more. you deserve more. they’re the experiences that forge you. for when everything burns away and you look in the mirror, you’ll no longer see someone who’s worthless and wrong. instead, you’ll see a young person, scarred by life, forged by fire, and a soul no longer trapped in the past. 

you’ll see you. the true you.

[silmarillaure]

It's telling that fandom will go beyond its way to justify a man's actions no matter how terrible and find ways to release him from responsibility

Except most Feanor fans like myself do not justify his wrongs, we only acknowledge that a lot of shitty stuff happened to him which he did not deserve.

Feanor died an awful corrupted person, that's undeniable. But no, Feanor the child did not deserve to be called "marred" and deserved better than having a father & stepmother who condemned his mother to eternal death out of selfishness.

Finwe favoring Feanor later in life doesn't make up for the loss of Feanor's mother. He insulted Feanor's mother even after her permanent death by choosing to mispronounce her name, and Indis did the same and insulted Miriel as well.

Favoritism does not heal those deep scars that Finwe gave Feanor himself, and if Finwe wasn't capable of loving all his children the same, it's more proof that he shouldn't have had them.

I don't have energy to argue on whether female characters should be granted the same grace and benefit of the doubt as male characters and especially male blorbos.

Except you grant Feanor ZERO grace & benefit of the doubt. I've seen on your blog that you think he was a terrible unloving father who's sons only followed him out of fear.

You refuse to empathize with someone's grief over loosing their mother in a world where no one else does, you refuse to empathize with Miriel being unable to control the fact she was drained by childbirth & accused her of abandoning her husband and son, but Indis deserves sympathy?

Miriel is a woman as well, yet you hold no sympathy & understanding for her situation and are basically saying it's a good thing she died along with saying she's at fault for abandoning her family.

don't tell me it's for Míriel: she herself states she's glad that Indis' children lived and if you are defending her right to choose to live only because you think Fëanor needs a mother, then it's not really about Míriel

Miriel is a nice person who’s choosing to see the best in the circumstances. And wtf is wrong with thinking Feanor deserved an opportunity to see his mother?

Even if Miriel & Finwe were a childless couple and she somehow died, I’d still defend her right to live over Finwe’s right to have children. He made the choice to marry her, he knows how permanent elven marriage is.

Morgoth being Morgoth. He was always going to find something to work on. In the absence of sibling rivalry, he could very well have used Finwë's desire for a larger family and a spouse, perhaps turning him against Fëanor, maybe even suggesting that without Fëanor he could have had everything he wanted. Morgoth was always going to use the Finwë/Míriel problem.

You're making up what if scenarios here but if I do the same thing and say Feanor would have been a lot happier had Finwe not remarried, you would disagree.

It really sounds like Indis should live in a box so that Finwë can't see or hear her, and he shouldn't process the grief in a way that suits him, like by moving on.

You always bring up Finwe's "grief" (he couldn't even respect Miriel enough to say her name right, It's doubtful he grieved her much) and how Indis's feeling are so valid, but again and again, you invalidate Feanor's grief and demonize him for being unhappy with the situation.

Also I'm not even going to touch the claim that the Valar "stole" the Silmaril - not beyond pointing out that "whether your property rights are still valid after multiple mass murders, stealing somebody else's priceless semi-sacred property and destroying it"

So do you think Feanor deserved to have his work stolen in the first place? If you have something stolen from you and law enforcement chooses to do nothing about it, are you saying you should "get over it".

And if Feanor (the creator) & his sons have no right to the silmarills, who does? Why does Luthien deserve something she never made, why does Thingol, or Dior, or Elwing, or Earendil?

Finwë was still the King of Noldor. He had all the means he needed to make trouble and unrest if he wanted. Would he just have contented himself with staying alone, potentially until the end of time? Have we any right to judge him?

Finwe shouldn't have to content himself with being alone but Feanor has to content himself with loosing the chance to meet his mother ever?

And we have no right to judge Finwe but it's completely ok to judge Feanor for grieving his mother & being unable to get over loosing her?

Why is it that you refuse to have any sympathy for Feanor's losses when you sympathize with literally everyone else?

He was not a Kinslayer when he lost his mother and was being called "marred", he was some kid going though the unthinkable but you gloss over his grief every single time.

(I know you said you didn't want to continue adding onto this post but I would love a reply. Although I will never see things they way you do, I do want to understand your perspective more on things I've questioned you about.)

I don’t understand people who demonize Feanor pre 1st Kinslaying because genuinely what was he supposed to do?

How is he wrong for despising Indis who was creepily obsessed with his father even before his mother died and took her first chance to throw herself at his grieving father given the opportunity?

How is he wrong for not loving his half siblings who are a permanent reminder of his father & the Valar betraying his mother & leaving her to die?

How is he in the wrong for not giving up the Silmarills?

How is he wrong for wanting revenge for his murdered father when the actual villains are the Valar who doomed him, his kin, & his people for…. seeking justice for their king?

The Valar had the power to help this severely traumatized, depressed, & mentally ill person and guide him to be less destructive.

The chose not to. Every action between Feanor & the Valar are them actively making his life worse and then Manwe has the audacity to cry over him as if he couldn’t have prevented this tragedy.

While I think Olwe & the Teleri should have been willing to teach the Noldor to build ships at least, the 1st Kinslaying is obviously still unjustified since Feanor did have a way to middle earth without killing (the Helcaraxe), but before that everyone else is being a bigger asshole than Feanor and pushing him to his inevitable breaking point.

[shipsandlattes]

So I know everyone has already dissected this scene to its core, but it’s taken me a good 48 hours to digest this and I just needed to get it out.

I’m an aspiring actor, I’ve been training for a long time, with a lot of amazing teachers. I’ve watched a lot of shows and shipped a lot of couples. Some of them beautiful and canon, others, well, let’s just say waiting 22 years and counting for acknowledgement, closure, anything, it’s a damn challenge. I’ve seen a hell of a lot of will-they-wont-they’s, baiting, purposeful ignorance, deliberate fake outs, zero explanations, storylines that basically caused canon disintegration, the works.

In saying that, Dean and Cas were right up there on the list with the other “impossibles” because honestly, I didn’t think the writers would have the guts to do it, but I am so f*cking proud they did. It’s safe to say I’ve watched the scene a good hundred+ times already. 

I’ve seen a lot of “controversy” around Dean’s reaction/Jensen’s acting choices and whether or not Dean reciprocates Cas’ feelings, and obviously, I needed to add my own views to the mix.

Just work with me for a minute here.

Dean Winchester is an emotionally repressed trainwreck, and ironically enough, the one that is so full of emotion it hurts to watch. When Cas first starts his speech, he’s confused, really confused because why on earth would Cas start off on a rant now? Billie’s waiting to kill them, he just said he knew something that was more powerful than she was, something that could save them. That’s where he thought this speech was going.

The confusion turns to realisation that it’s a goodbye when Cas starts telling him how incredible he is, how his entire essence is love. Go back and watch the scene again, when Cas says “you’re the most caring man on Earth”, you physically see Dean look down, his eyes searching, he’s actively trying to make sense of what’s happening, he knows what’s coming and you can see him coming to terms with the shock of the words being said to him. He then looks directly at Cas. That look, that was pure shock.

Also, notice how he doesn’t stop Cas from talking? He doesn’t interject, make a joke, doesn’t talk about how there is no time for this now, they’ve got to at least try and stop Billie. He. says. nothing. He listens, he listens like I’ve never seen Dean listen before. Because it’s sinking in now.

When Cas really starts crying, when he says “you changed me, Dean”, you can actually see the pain in Dean’s eyes. He’s no longer in control of his emotions, he’s crying too. He’s never seen Cas like this, so raw, and vulnerable and human. This is the hardest, most emotional conversation they’ve both ever had. They are talking about the one thing that everybody knows, but is never addressed. When it wasn’t talked about, they could deny it, live in the lie. Once it’s said aloud, it’s real and they can’t turn back.

This above series of interactions is the part that kills me the most. The moment Cas says “because it is”, that’s the exact moment of realisation. Look at that last GIF, really look. He’s just worked it out, that he is Cas’ true happiness. He knows what’s coming before Cas even says it. Go back and watch the scene again, they pulled that off so well, the way the music swells at this exact moment. Jensen is giving us everything here, you can see what’s happening in his head - he is Cas’ happiness. He is the one thing on Earth Cas wants and thinks he can’t have. He is the reason Cas is about to die. He knows what Cas is about to say and he’s not sure he’s ready to hear it, not now, not like this. It’s almost a silent plea not to say it, because he knows. Of course he knows. It’s like he can’t quite believe Cas is really, after all this time, finally going to say it.

And because obviously Jensen decided that that wasn’t enough to break us, the loaded reaction when Cas says “I love you” has me nothing but convinced that it’s reciprocated. Because Dean knows. He’s always known. Those tears, that head tilt, that gulp. He’s so genuinely confused that they’re really having this conversation. It’s like he can’t quite believe that this is the reality before him because he’s been living in that denial, in that self-loathing and unlovable layer he believes to be true. He’s been under the ‘what if... but it could never be’ umbrella for so long. 

What also makes this real is that there isn’t anyone else around this time. When “I love you’s” have been said before, they have always been able to deflect it, with other people or other words. Now it’s just the two of them. No deflecting, no running away. Dean is forced to hear it, to absorb it, to realise it’s for nobody else but him.

Now, I don’t know if you guys felt this, but when Dean says “Don’t do this, Cas”, he wasn’t just referring to Cas sacrificing himself to the Empty, he’s telling Cas that he can’t just say this, not now, knowing he’s going to die, knowing that Dean won’t get a chance to think, to process, to say what he needs too. I keep staring at that GIF above, Dean is breaking down, I’m almost convinced that Jensen was using an “I love you too, please just stop this” inner monologue for this bit. Look at the way he’s looking at Cas before he realises the Empty has started materialising and turns around. That’s a look of pure heartbreak. Trust me when I tell you, it’s really hard to keep those inner thoughts inside if you’re so in the moment - actually, don’t just take my word for it, read any acting book, ask any actor, it’s so hard to keep that in and sometimes you don’t, and sometimes you do - it’s in both the resistance and the letting go that the gold happens. This my friends, is gold. 

Did anyone else hear “Cas, I-”, well, regardless of whether or not it was an “I” or a very sharp breath, the outcome is the same. Dean’s gone into immediate panic mode. The Empty at one end and Billie at the other, and all poor Dean wants to do is gather his thoughts on not what to say but how to say it. I don’t think he comprehended just how little time he had, he was so focused on what was being said that the reality of the situation caught him completely off guard.

Also, I know this post was about dissecting Dean’s reaction, but can we sidebar a minute to talk about Cas as he pushes Dean out of the way? He’s sobbing, he’s fully crying. That hit me really hard, I’ve never seen Cas cry like that, I’ve never seen Misha get to play that level of emotion before and it was the most heartbreaking thing to watch since The Doctor and Rose and Buffy and Spike, to which by the way, I find many parallels between those couples and this scene.

Speaking of crying, that brings me to this: Dean slumped on the floor, ignoring a call from Sam, sobbing his heart out knowing he’s lost everything. Dean-I’m-emotionally-unavailable-Winchester is sobbing. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t recall ever seeing Dean cry like this before either, the sobbing was so evident and piercing in that silence. The look around the room, the burying of his head in his hands, that is a classic writers romantic love trope if I’ve ever seen it, they really pulled out all the stops with this one.

So, to summarise, I think Jensen’s choices and Dean’s reactions were absolutely and utterly perfect. They both did it so well that it didn’t break from character that these two emotionally distant and repressed men are in love and finally voicing it. Jensen barely said two words and still managed to cause mass coronary’s across the fandom. That my friends is what you call a brilliant actor. I bow down to the talents of these two amazing human beings.

Before I leave this novel, I have to say there are now a few things I’m going to need from the powers that be to not screw this up, help me manifest this:

1. Dean gets to reciprocate his feelings to Cas in person. So, I’m gonna need Cas back and a very emotional Dean.

2. Dean to be actively dealing with heartbreak in the next episode (unless they decided to bring Cas back that soon, which I wouldn’t put past them at this point).

3. Sam to confront Dean about his feelings for Cas, because out of everyone, he’d be the one to hit Dean with the truth of his fears. Sam knows. Sam is supportive. Sam sees it all.

4. I’m gonna need some physical affection, cause after 12 years of nonsense, we damn well deserve it. A hug, and not just any old reunion hug, a proper, this is different now hug. A kiss because hello, in love out loud now. Forehead touching, handholding, really gonna need the works here.

5. A happy ending for the two of them, one way or another. We’ve never had one, it’s time.

Okay, have at it now, let’s speak these into existence please.

Note: GIFs are not mine, I did not make them, credit to owners who I’m not sure of, but they’re beautiful, thanks for making them. EDIT: I’ve just been informed that these gorgeous gifs belong to @michaeldean​ and @inacatastrophicmind​! 

[lilxberry]

Hardly Burglar Material - Bilbo Baggins

Requested by: @donniethescienceguy​

Helloooooooo! Can I have a Bilbo x hobbit wife reader where after Thorin insults him (in the beginning when he arrives) she defends him and Thorins like: are you sure it’s the male Baggins we want?

I mean, I still did as what was requested but man, did I not know where tf this was going lmao

I followed quite a bit of the manuscript of the film, the only alteration is when reader confronts Thorin

Warnings: Nothing really. Asshole Thorin. Terrible writing lmao. 

Words: 1,796

Pairings: Bilbo Baggins x Reader (female reader) (wife!reader)

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You hadn’t expected your quiet evening meal with your husband to be interrupted but when a dwarf, a big, burly, tattooed, balding, towering one at that knocks your door, there certainly isn’t much you can do.

After the dwarf, who introduced himself as Dwalin, had entered your home and devoured your husbands fish dinner, to which you offered Bilbo your own meal, more and more knocks sounded at the door, each one miffing your husband further and further until he had finally had enough.

“There’s nobody home!” he shouted as another sound came from the front door, arms holding up the abundance of weapons the two brothers’, Fíli and Kíli, loaded on to him.

You felt terrible, watching as your husband becomes frustrated, not knowing what to do other than spectate in concern.

He tossed the items down out of his arms as he stormed towards the door, shouting at whoever was on the other side. “Go away and bother somebody else! There are far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is.”

Bilbo closes in on the door. “I-I-If this is some plotheads idea of a joke,” he laughed in disbelief before grasping the door handle in his hand. “I can only say, it is in very poor taste.”

With that, he pulled the door open and in comes tumbling through the doorway a cluster of dwarves, all grumbling and whining at the other to get off of them. Bilbo and yourself, who stood a few steps behind, looked down at the mess of moving bodies on the floor before his feet, dumbfounded expressions on both of your faces.

Movement behind the pile up caught both yours and Bilbos’ attention, and once the tall figure bent down ever so slightly to reveal himself, your face twisted into that of utter confusion as your husband sighs in exasperation.

“Gandalf.”

_______________

Although you were concerned for your husband, you couldn’t help but find the whole situation quite amusing. You found some of the dwarven folk that had invaded your shared home to be quite a fun, entertaining bunch.

Of course, you were concerned about the possessions within your home, hoping that the dwarves leave your home relatively untouched and that your husband wouldn’t have some sort of mental breakdown.

Your uninvited guests had pillaged the pantry of its food. The race of dwarves certainly did have quite an appetite. Even Gandalf had nibbled on quite a bit of food.

The rowdiness of the dwarves had calmed slightly, if only for moment when they downed whatever drink they had. Even the ridiculous and frankly disgusting belching afterwards was calmer than their initial arrival.

Yet that was quickly replaced with plates, platers, knives, forks, and spoons were tossed from one dwarf to another as they sang a merry tune. Bilbo was quick with demanding caution and for things to be put down. Even you were slightly worried for your kitchen utensils.

The dwarves released hearty laughter when you and Bilbo peered into the kitchen and had seen that everything was clean and stacked, Gandalf chuckling along with them as both you and Bilbo simultaneously release sighs of relief.

Then, the atmosphere became tense as three, loud knocks sound at your front door for a final time that night.

The laughter died out instantly and Gandalf spoke quite ominously. “He’s here.”

_______________

You couldn’t really pinpoint what exactly was unsettled you so much when it came to the dark-haired dwarf who sat at the head of the table. Maybe his stature. Possibly his stoic expression.

Most likely the look behind his eyes.

Well, you certainly didn’t like him all that much whenever he addressed your husband.

Most of the conversation between the dwarves and Gandalf became muffled when reaching your ears, certainly seeing no point in listening in on their talk. The second your husbands voice rang out through the room though had piqued your interest and your attention was brought to the conversation.

They spoke of The Lonely Mountain, the dragon Smaug, how they were on a quest to reclaim their home. Gandalf had produced not only a map of some forts but a key, a key the dwarves seemed to become quite excited about.

You also happened to admire the young dwarfs’ courage. Ori.

Then, the topic of a burglar arrived.

“That’s why we need a burglar,” Ori spoke.

“Hmm, and a good one too. An expert I’d imagine.” Bilbo moves back from peering down at the map, holding on to his suspenders.

“And are you?”

Bilbo glances around to behind him before looking towards the dwarves once more. “Am I what?”

“He said he’s an expert!” Oin spoke cheerily. Of course, the dwarf with the horn to aid his hearing would say as such.

“Me? No, no, no, no, no,” your husband started, eyes darting to each dwarf, hoping his point would get across. “I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”

You nodded your head in agreement. As much as you love your husband, he is quite the stickler for following rules.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Mister Baggins,” Balin was next to speak. “He’s hardly burglar material.”

You supressed a chuckle as Bilbo, although relieved that someone agreed, looked the tiniest bit offended.

The group of dwarves began to chatter and raise in volume, no words could actually be comprehended by yourself, it all a jumble of noises. Then Gandalf raised out of the seat slightly, his voice booming over the racket the dwarves created.

“ENOUGH! IF I SAY BILBO BAGGINS IS A BURGLAR,” he lowered his voice with each following word. “Then a burglar he is.” Bilbo looked as if he wanted to protest but no words left his mouth.

“Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet,” he continued. “In fact, they can pass by unseen by most if they chose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to them which gives us an distinct advantage.”

The whole discussion about your husband was unnerving for you. You disliked how your husband was talked of like a ploy in some silly game.

“This quest is no place for gentlefolk.” Thorins’ tone was as if the words left a vile taste in his mouth, clearly showing his disgust for your husband. “He probably wouldn’t last 5 miles away from his precious little home. Look at him, Gandalf! He isn’t made for such things, it’s as clear as day. His big feet and rounded belly would slow us down. Your little Hobbit would cry out for home within a day.”

Your blood boiled with each word he spoke, an anger rising in you which you desperately tried to keep down. Your nails dug into the palms of your hands and your jaw was clenched tightly shut, but enough was enough.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF MY HUSBAND LIKE THAT?! NO LESS WHILST YOU ARE IN HIS HOME AND IN HIS PRESENCE!”

Your outburst caught the attention of every soul in the dining room around the table. Their eyes settled on your figure that stepped closer and closer to them up to the point where you stood glaring down at Thorin right beside his seat. Even Bilbos’ eyes were wide and looked almost ready to pop right out of their sockets.

“My husband may not be a fighter like you…you BRASS DWARVES! But he deserves no less respect. I will not stand for someone speaking down on my Bilbo in such a manner, even if they are some king,” you all but spat out.

Some of the dwarves looked offended that you spoke to their leader in such a way, others looked thoroughly shocked, surprised that a small thing as yourself had such a fire in you. Gandalf smirked as Bilbo looked like he genuinely feared for your safety. He had witnessed outbursts from you that scared him before, which were quite rare, you barely losing your temper, but for once, he was terrified of the consequences seeing as it wasn’t at him nor a fellow Hobbit.

But it was Thorins’ reaction that had you confused. He seemed…impressed?

Thorin turned towards Gandalf, a smirk of his own forming on his face. “Are you sure it was Mister Baggins you had wanted to join our quest?”

Gandalf chuckled and looked towards you and your husband, you now joined your side, who was silently scolding you with his eyes but nonetheless remaining the concerned, dotting husband. “I was certain on Mister Baggins being the 14th member of your company, but I would highly recommend you take a 15th as I believe Misses Baggins certainly has something of her own to bring to the quest.”

“They both have a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including themselves. You must trust me on this,” Gandalf finished.

Thorin looked at Gandalf and Gandalf at he for a moment, Thorin evidently mulling it over within his head before finally, he spoke. “Very well. We’ll do it your way. Give them the contract.”

Both yourself and Bilbo began to protest as Balin produced the document. He handed it over to Bilbo who unravelled the parchment and began to scan over the words, your eyes peering over his shoulder to read it for yourself.

As Bilbo and you busied yourselves with reading over the document, Thorin had leant over towards Gandalf to whisper within his ear. “I cannot guarantee their safety.”

“Understood,” Gandalf hummed in acknowledgement.

“You’ll be left responsible for their fate.”

“Agreed.”

Bilbo began to read aloud the text, brow furrowed out of concentration, your own face screwed up slightly, straining to peer at the words.

“Terms; cash on delivery up to but not exceeding 1 14th for total profit, if any. Seems fair, uhh-“

“Shouldn’t it be changed to 1 15th if I were to join?” you questioned aimlessly.

Bilbo nodded his head in agreement before continuing. “Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a government, thereof including but not limited to; lacerations. Evisceration?” He unfolds a piece further, reading before looking towards the group with a look of disbelief. “Incineration?!”

“Oh, aye. It’d melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye,” Bofur quipped with ease.

Many more ‘encouraging and reassuring’ words were spoken by Bofur, unnerving both yourself and Bilbo, though you hid it extremely well. The moment your husband passed out, was when Bofur seemed to finally relent.

“Oh dear.” You looked towards your husband laying on the floor unconscious with concern before turning towards the others with a worried expression.

Valar forbid you allow him to go with those dwarves and that conniving wizard alone.

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I mean, I don’t really have anything to say sooooo

If you want to be added to a taglist lemme know

Anywho, I hope you enjoy

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

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LOTR / The Hobbit taglist:

@iwazoomingouttahere​ 

[sociallyanxiouscryptid-writings]

Destined

Story: Hero has a secret eating him alive, a timer over his head, the weight of the world on his shoulders and no one to help him bear it. Except maybe Villain?

Sorry for anyone waiting for continuations. I’ve said this to a couple of people already, but the continuations are definitely happening, I am currently working on them, I just have  lot of other ideas too. Including this one. So I hope you enjoy.

CW: Suicidal ideation (kind of, character isn’t actually suicidal but it seems like it so putting this here just in case), talk of death, existential things, swearing

~

A dark expanse stretched out before Hero, the very edge of it lapping at his feet. He stood inches from the drop, the void consuming his vision. If he defocussed his eyes enough, he could imagine he was just floating in the nothingness, lifted from the world.

Waves crashed violently against the base of the cliff beneath him, the sound twisting with the cold, rushing wind, filling Hero with the smell of salt and insignificance. He was nothing here, just a single step away from death itself. He was a spec against nature, a fleeting moment in her never-ending life.  

The darkness crept up behind him, wrapped its cold arms around his shoulder, ready to absorb him into nothingness. Hero could feel himself relax, the cool embrace melting away the tension seizing his body. For a moment he could just be him. For a moment the weight of the world was lifted off of his shoulders.  

“I hope you aren’t thinking of jumping.”

Hero saw the light before he heard the voice, but he made no move to acknowledge either until Villain stood right beside him. Villain leaned his body forward, feet planted further back then Hero as he peered down the edge. He tried aiming the flashlight into the abyss, a futile act. His face creased in discomfort.

“I’m not going to jump,” Hero said quietly.

Villain glanced at him. “Well, that’s good, this city would be infinitely more boring without you in it.”

Hero said nothing to that. Villain stepped back from the edge, still standing slightly behind Hero.

“So, if not to jump what are you doing teetering on the edge of a cliff?”

The light chased the darkness away and Hero could feel himself tensing again. He took in a breath, heart fluttering, begging that fleeting moment of peace to return.

“Just admiring the view,” Hero shrugged.

“Huh, didn’t take you as a stargazer,” Villain said, “though I think you need to be looking a little more up to see them.”

Hero continued staring out at the dark ocean. There was no moon out tonight, and while the stars were bright and dazzling, they only did so much to illuminate the space before them. It was the perfect combination, the perfect way to feel human.

“There are other things to admire here too,” Hero said.

Hero felt Villain’s eyes on him. It was doubtful he could see much in the dimness, but here, now, Hero knew he could see enough. Hero always tried to act so blasé, so charming that here his rigid posture, his shaking hands were obvious to Villain. All confidence gone, hope slowly going with it.  

“Is something wrong?” Villain asked.

Hero took in another breath and looked up. The stars were almost as good as the darkness. They were bright and beautiful, but they were also so big, so old. Nothing helped make him feel small quite like the open expanse of the universe, the giant glowing gods staring down at him. How could he possibly impact the world when things like that existed? But the light was too nice, the stars too wonderful. He didn’t deserve it, not someone like him.

Hero looked back at the cliff edge.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Villain scoffed and the sound almost pulled Hero’s attention away. It was such a familiar sound, a comforting sound. A sound that somehow made him feel just as human, and at the same time filled him with so much dread.

“Honey,” Villain chuckled, teased, “you look like someone kicked your puppy and spat in your cereal. I know we have our issues, but I like to think that we can at least be honest with each other.”

Hero found a rock under his shoes and rolled it against the ground. Villain wasn’t wrong. Despite their opposing sides they both had a unique position.  In a world of ambiguity and grey morals neither side was perfect, neither side was one hundred percent right and they both believed that. So on many occasions the pair found themselves supporting each other, aiding in missions or the occasional moral dilemma. Villain had told Hero many things, Hero had told Villain some, and neither had ever felt the need to share with their comrades.

Somethings you just couldn’t tell your friends, or your family. Hero couldn’t talk to his boss or his mentors or even the oracles. But maybe he could talk to Villain.

Hero kicked the rock off the cliff, and it disappeared in silence.

“Have you heard of the Oracles’ prophecies?” Hero looked up at Villain, their eyes met. Hero’s heart clenched and he looked back out over the ocean.

“Of course.” Villain said, following Hero’s gaze. “We have an Oracle on our side too, very helpful.”

Hero did not know that. Not that it mattered.

“Have they ever been wrong?”

Villain shrugged, “so far no, we’ve avoided many attacks because of them.”

Hero cringed, “yeah, ours are too. Makes you wonder how any end will come of this if both sides know what’s going to happen.”

“Yeah, well, that might not matter if the world really does end.”

All moisture evaporated from Hero’s mouth and the air turned thin. He sucked in a long breath through his nose, but it still wasn’t enough, and he could feel his legs beginning to shake. Hero sat down, rocks poking through his clothes as he eased onto the cold damp ground.

Villain glanced down at him, brows knitted in concern.

“What does your Oracle know about that?” Hero asked, breathless. He tried to regain control but the more he thought the further down the spiral he spun, and the void offered no comfort now. Not with Villain’s warmth there, his light.

If Villain thought Hero looked off before something was very wrong now. Had Villain simply never seen Hero with their guard down? Was Hero always masking in front of him?

Villain sat beside him.

“Only the basics,” he said. “That its going to happen and its going to devastate the world. Some force or something, maybe a person, maybe an event, he isn’t entirely sure. Oracles aren’t omnipotent, he can’t get all the information without access to certain things. But you probably know that.”

Hero nodded.

Villain kept looking for a read but only found languages he couldn’t understand.

“Do your Oracles know more?” Villain asked.

Hero brought their knees to the chest and hugged them. He said nothing, wasn’t sure he could. His tongue had turned to sandpaper now, and he felt uncomfortably hot against the cold air.

“Hero you’re really worrying me here.” Villain turned so he was facing Hero a little better, eyes pleading. “Talk to me, please.”

Hero tried to calm their heart with a deep breath, but it made the whole sensation worse, and he buried his head against his knees. He wanted to sink into nothingness, disappear from existence entirely.

An arm wrapped around his shoulders and Villain shifted closer. Hero wanted to pull away, wanted to tell him not to get too close or else he might get hurt, but couldn’t find the energy. Besides if anyone could survive Hero, it was Villain.

“Our Oracles know exactly what’s going to happen,” Hero said, the words barely a whisper. “They don’t know when… or where I guess… But they know who.”

“They know who?”

Hero nodded.

“They’ve known for years now actually. Not everyone knows though, in fact very few people know. They think if too many people find out, then their attempts to prevent it will trigger the event faster, which I agree. But of course, they don’t have any advice on how to prevent it.” Hero’s voice had picked up the more he spoke, the worlds now falling uncontrollable out of his mouth, mind an absolute blur.

Villain could barely keep up.

“Hero, I’m only partially on board with what you’re saying.”

Hero swallowed, as best he could. He and Villain had been friends for a while, had it been before or after? He couldn’t remember. Time was muddled in his mind, but it didn’t really matter anymore. Villain had been there for him more than some heroes had, and out of everyone a villain would be the last person to judge him, right? But then again, what really makes a villain? The only difference between Hero and Villain was that Hero was government sanctioned. Did that really make him better then Villain?

“Hero,” Villain said softly. So softly, Hero didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to have friends like this.

“I’m the one who is going to destroy the world,” he blurted out.

Hero regretted the words immediately. Silence fell heavily around them, and Hero’s ears rung against it. The wind whipped wildly around him and a small sprig of hope formed that maybe it had whisked the words away before Villain could hear them. But Hero watched as the words processed in Villains mind, Shock spreading across his features.

“I… what?”

Hero rested his chin on his knees. The door was open now, and he just kept talking.

“They told me a few years ago. I didn’t believe them for a long time, why would I? It’s ridiculous, why would I ever destroy the world? It doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t,” Villain agreed.

Hero looked up. Villain’s expression was a mosaic of emotion, and he could watch each little flicker of them pass by. Villain had assumed it would be someone on his side, or perhaps some of the more corrupt higher ups on Hero’s side, someone with power and megalomaniac tendencies. But Hero?

The flicker of disbelief was at least some sort of comfort. Hero settled his head back down.

“And the Oracles never have the answers to the important question,” Hero continued. “They can’t tell me why, or how. They can’t tell me what I can do to stop it. Should I be trying to avoid it? Do everything I can to prevent it or is that exactly what is needed to start it? Does the prophecy require me to know about it? Should I just sit around and do nothing? They have no idea. It’s not their job to change the future, they say, just observe it. It’s bullshit.”

Villain watched as Hero became more agitated, their voice shaking, hands jutting out in irritated gestures.

“And your Oracle’s haven’t told anyone?”

Hero scoffed, sniffed. “Can you imagine what the hero organisation would do if they knew I was the one meant to destroy things? They would try and kill me or lock me up or something. The Oracles are worried that something like that could trigger the end much faster. Make me bitter or something. Again, they don’t fucking know.” A tear fell and he wiped it away.

“Recently I’ve been feeling my powers growing,” Hero said. “I mean they always have been, but lately its been… things have been hard.” He gestured over the cliff. “Coming out here helps. It calms me, makes me feel human.”

“Do you not always feel human?”

Hero hugged himself a little tighter. Villain tightened his grip too.

“Not always.” He said. “Sometimes… I don’t even know how to explain it. I try not to think about it, I just try and focus on being good, helping people as much as I can in this fucked up place.”

Villain said nothing to that.

Hero tried to watch him out of the corner of his eyes, tried to gauge his reaction but there wasn’t much to see. His stomach twisted, dread worming its way in as the silence continued. Had he made a mistake? Was Villain not as understanding as he’d hoped? He wouldn’t blame him. Wouldn’t blame him if he ran away or turned him in. Or even tried to kill him. He wouldn’t succeed, unfortunately, but Hero wouldn’t blame him for trying.

“Well,” Villain finally said, “that’s definitely a lot.”

Hero tentatively looked to him, heart skipping a beat. There was not a single shred of fear in Villain’s eyes. No anger, no panic, nothing. Well, not nothing, there was caring, friendship, if such a thing could be reflected that way.

“You’re not… You won’t…” Hero couldn’t find the words.

“I will admit it’s a bigger package then I had expected to find, I thought you were going to tell me someone had died or something,” Villain shrugged, “but we’ll figure this out.”

Hero frowned. “We will?”

Villain smiled, a much to casual thing for the storm inside of Hero. “Hey, I still owe you for helping me with Bad Villain, and that dinner you paid for. Fair’s fair.”

Hero just stared. “I feel like those two things aren’t really comparable to this,” he said.

Villain rubbed Hero’s arm.

“Hero, after everything we’ve been through, I’d like to think we are friends. Yes, we are on different sides, and we have different views on how to fix this horrid place, but I’m not going to just abandon you. Besides, I still need to convince you that my way is better,” Villain smiled.

Hero tried a chuckle, wiping at his cheeks, “I think you mean I need to convince you that my way is better.”

“See? How can I leave you stranded when we still need to settle this score?”

Hero rested his head on Villains shoulder.

“Ok, we’ll figure this out then,” Hero said.

“I promise,” Villain said.

They both stared out at the stars.

~

Hope you enjoyed it. I feel like the ending was kinda eh, but also couldn’t come up with a better one and I’m trying to not over think these things.

My ideas are usually always bigger then just one piece so if you want to be added to the taglists on the chance that this gets continued just let me know.