#okay so i've been writing this one piece of fiction for a while now

[disdaidal]

Sometimes I really kind of envy you native English speakers who make writing and posting fics seem so fucking easy. With near perfect grammar and hardly any typos. Or those of you who are capable of writing & updating your fics whenever the muse hits you just right... and not like, once in six months. Actually, try two years lol.

Whereas me, a non-native speaker, who occasionally struggles even with basic English grammar:

I'm fine. Totally.

[mama2bears]

The Storm Of Life - Part 1

Warnings: mention of death (no main characters), tornado

Pairing: Tyler Owens/ F. Reader

Summary: You are a single mother, currently sleeping in your car and trapped in the path of a tornado when Tyler finds you. He will go above and beyond to help you put the broken pieces back together again.

A/N: I had this idea and so far it has been really easy to write. Please let me know what you think. I was thinking of just doing little chapters and maybe do a slow burn relationship? Let me know what you think and if you want to see more. I am still new at writing fan fiction, so I love your feedback! Thank you for reading.

Part 1

“THERE IT IS!” Boone pointed out the funnel, “Seems to be heading east.”

“I got it.” Tyler made a sharp right turn on the next road. The tornado was a big one and it was heading directly towards them.

“WOO!!!” Boone hanged out the window with the video rolling, “Are you guys seeing this!” he yelled for all of the YouTube followers.

“What the hell...” Tyler slammed on the brakes and Boone almost went flying.

“What the..” then Boone seen it.. A small car parked on the side of the road, hood up, smoke coming from under the hood and in the direct path of the oncoming tornado.

“HEY! You gotta get out of there! You okay?” Tyler yelled.

He saw you in the driver's seat and clearly you had been crying. You had your young son and daughter in the back.

In an instant Tyler was out of the truck, “Come on, get in my truck!” he yelled over the roaring winds. He ripped open the back door and grabbed your son while Boone ran to the other side of the car to get your daughter.

Tyler helped you in the the backseat of the truck and handed you the children, 'We gotta go!”

“LULU! My LULU!” your little girl cried.

“Honey we can't...” you say softly.

“What's LULU?” Tyler asked.

“Her stuffed bear.” you say

Tyler ran back to the car and grabbed the stuffed animal off the back seat.

“Here sweetie. We can't leave LULU behind.” he handed the animal back to your daughter and hit a button on the center console of his truck.

“What are you doing? The tornado is here!” you scream.

“I know...put those harnesses on and hold on. We don't have time to outrun it now. I've anchored the truck, we will be okay.” Tyler turned around in his seat to make sure everyone was getting seat belts and harnesses on before he slipped his own harness on.

The truck shook as the twister passed right though them. There was a loud bang outside the window and your son cried “Our car mommy! Our car is gone!”

“We're okay!” Tyler yelled in hopes of comforting them. “It's okay...tornado is passing...it's okay.”

As quick as it got started, the tornado was gone and blue skies began to appear.

Tyler turned around to speak to you and his heart broke, seeing you and your kids in tears, “Hey, hey....it's okay. I'll see if I can find your car. We'll take photos for the insurance. They'll help you get another one. In the meantime I'll give you a ride home.” he tried to comfort you.

“That car was our home. Now I really have nothing.” you cried.

Tyler sighed and his eyes meant Boone's. He knew he had to help you, but he wasn't sure how just yet.

“It's going to be okay.” Tyler opened his door. “You guys stay here. There's a lot of debris out there and I don't want anyone getting hurt. I'll go see how bad it is.”

“I am scared mommy.” Your daughter cried. Your son was looking out the window crying. Boone turned around and saw you trying your best to dry your tears and comfort the kids. He wasn't great with kids, he didn't really have any experience, but he had to try something. It was breaking his heart to see you all so scared.

“Hey...who want's some ice cream? There's a little shop right up the road.” he gave a soft smile.

The kids crying stopped. “ME! ME! ME!” came happy yells from the backseat. Boone grinned, satisfied that he had made the kids happy, at least for a moment.

Tyler returned, a heartbroken look on his face. He got in the truck and turns to the back to look at you, “Sorry miss...the car is totaled. It's wrapped around a tree back there. I grabbed some clothes and toys I found and I've put them in the back of my truck for you.

“ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM!” the children in the back were still chanting, despite you trying to calm them down and fighting back tears.

Tyler frowned, a bit confused on why the kids were cheering for ice cream.

“We gotta go get ice cream!” Boone grinned at Tyler, “And you're buying.”

“Who's idea was this?” Tyler asked the kids with a small smile.

“HIS!!!” Both kids pointed at Boone, who tried to put on an innocent face.

“Alright...Ice Cream it is.” he smiled, keying up the radio to let the rest of the team know, “We're making a emergency ice cream stop in town.”

“A what?” Lily asked.

“Just meet us at the ice cream parlor in town.” Tyler said before starting the truck and heading towards town.

“I'm Tyler by the way. This is my buddy Boone.” he said, “We're storm chasers. I am glad we came by when we did. What you doing out here?”

“I was heading into town to see about finding a new baby sitter. My old one just quite and and I can't afford to lose my job. But now I don't know what I am going to do.” you turned your head to look out the window so your kids couldn't see the tears run down your cheek.

“Hey hey now...it'll be okay...What's your name?” Tyler asked.

“I am Y/N. This is my son Billy and my daughter Harley.” you say.

“Hi Billy and Harley!” Tyler smiled, “How old are you guys?”

The kids were silent as they looked at Tyler and back to their mom, “Harley just turned 3 and Billy is 4.” you tell him.

“Four and a half.” Billy corrects. “I four and a half.”

“Four and a half.” Tyler nods and flashes you a grin, “Get it right Mom! He's four and a half.”

You give him a grateful smile as he pulls the truck into the local ice cream shop. Thankfully the twister had touched down outside of town and died out before reaching it.

Tyler opens the door for you and lifts both kids out. “This is a big truck! I love trucks!” Billy smiled.

“Really?” Boone said as Tyler opened the door for everyone, “You know T here shoots fireworks off the back of his truck.”

“REALLY!” Billy's eyes light up.

“Really,” Tyler said. “Hey, maybe later I'll let you hit the button that makes them go BOOM!”

“YAY!” Billy cheered.

“What about you, Harley?” Tyler looked at her, “You wanna shoot off fireworks too?”

She nodded, biting at her figure nails.

“She's really shy...until she gets to know you. Once she knows you, she'll be stuck to you like glue.” you say as your daughter wraps her little arms around your leg.

Tyler gives you both a smile just as the rest of the team arrived.

“Ah, here's my team! This is Lily, she operates our drone.”

“You got a DRONE too! Can we set fireworks off of THAT!”

Everyone laughs and Tyler shakes his head no, “Sorry little man. Can't set fireworks off the drone, but we can look on a screen and see some really cool videos. It will be almost like you're a bird flying.”

“COOL! I am a eagle!” Billy yells, pretending to fly around the ice cream shop.

“Billy, stop that and come here.” you scold, to which he comes over and stands next to you.

“This is Dexter. He's our scientist and weather watcher. He helps Dani with our merchandise sales.” Tyler points to Dani, “And that's Dani...she's scientist, sales, YouTube, photo taker, you name it, she does it.”

“Everyone, this is Y/N and her two little ones, Billy and Harley. Their car just got wrapped around a tree by the tornado so, we're helping them out.”

“Oh my God, are you guys okay?” Lily asked.

“Yes, Tyler got us into his truck just in time. Thank God he got there.” You were shaking, realizing just how close you and the kids came to losing your life.

“Hey, it's okay now. Don't worry.” Tyler gave you a small hug, “So, what is everyone having?”

“Chocolate.” Dani ordered, “Strawberry” came Dexter's order, “Rocky road” Lily chimed in.

“Banana Split” Boone said, “And T said he's paying for it!” he informed the team.

You and the kids are looking at the many different ice cream flavors when Tyler walks up behind you, “Know what you guys want?” he asks softly.

“Bent Socket Rip.” Harley smiles.

Tyler frowns for a moment, then catches on, “Mint Chocolate Chip, right?”

Harley nods with a smile.

“Mint chocolate chip for me too!” Billy adds.

“And what about for mom here?” he asks.

“Chocolate will be fine. “ you smile.

“Coming right up.”

Everyone gets their orders placed and takes a seat around one of the tables.

“So you're storm chasers...you do this for a living?” you ask.

“Yes..and because it's fun.” Tyler smiles. “We do this to collect data for varies weather teams and to try to approve the warning time for these storms. We go into towns and help out after a tornado. I enjoy my work, even if it's dangerous. I respect the storm, but I try to have fun with it too, that way other people will want to learn more about thunderstorms and tornadoes and maybe learn how to be safe in them.

“What do you do?” he asks.

“I am a waitress at the diner here in town. Or I should say used to be. If I don't find a sitter by tomorrow then I am fired. And now I don't even have a car...so. I don't know. If it's not one thing it's something else.” you shake your head and try to hold back the tears that want to fall.

“We'll figure something out.” Tyler promised. “I am not just going to leave you stranded.” he bite his bottom lip trying to think.

“Hey guys, once you all are done with your ice cream, why don't you take the kids out and show them all the cool stuff we've got.” Tyler told the team.

“Can I see the fireworks!” Billy asked.

Tyler laughed, “Not yet, buddy. No shooting off fireworks in the parking lot. But maybe we'll go off into a field later and fire some off.”

“YAY! BOOM BOOM!” Billy's eyes light up with excitement.

“Thank you.” You give a small smile to this guy who just happened to stop and pluck you and the kids out of a tornado's path, and now he was going out of his way to make the kids happy and try to keep their mind off of the serious of the situation.

Once the kids were done with their ice cream the team lead them out to explore all three of their vehicles and the equipment that made storm chasing possible.

“Do you have any place to go?” Tyler asked once the kids were outside.

“No...I don't even know anyone.” you turn your head away as tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Hey, it's okay.” Tyler's voice was kind and gentle, “you know me and the team..that's something.” he placed a hand on your shoulder to comfort. “How about the kid's father? Is he in the picture?”

“No. He was killed three years ago in a tornado. Him and my parents. He went to get my parents from their house because they didn't have a storm cellar and we did. They were killed on the way back to our farm. The tornado blew the truck off the road.” you broke down in tears remembering that awful day. “Harley had just be born...”

“I am sorry.” Tyler pulled you into a hug. “No family or anything around?”

You shook your head, “My parents were my only family. His family had passed away before we met.”

Tyler took a deep breath, “Okay, let me make a phone call. I think I might have an idea.”

He stood and walked to the back of the parlor.

“Hey, mom?” he said when she picked up the phone.

“Listen, I have a lady here with two little children. Their car just got destroyed in a tornado. They were living in the car. She has no family and no where to go. That's about all I know right now, but she's gonna need a place to stay and maybe someone to watch the kids. At least for a little while. She's working at a diner here in town.”

“Okay, great. Mom, thank you. I love you too. Bye Bye.”

Tyler was smiling when he returned to the table, “Okay, my mom and I have a ranch about half an hour from here. We have two spare bedrooms and you are welcomed to stay there as long as you need. She even volunteered to watch the kids when you go to work. It's just her and the animals when I am not around, so I am sure she would enjoy some company.”

You smile and hug Tyler, “Thank you, thank you so much.”

“Not a problem.” he smiled. “Wanna go shoot off fireworks on our way?”

You smile, drying your tears, “Actually, that does sound pretty awesome.”

“Hot dog, let's go do it then!” he stood and walked with you to the door, “Who's ready for fireworks!” He yelled as he pushed open the door.

The whole team screamed like kids, making you break out in laughter, for the first time in years. You didn't know what laid ahead, but at least now, you had hope that maybe you could get back on your feet again.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Paschal Moon 2.0 -1/2

Summary: Jensen finds love the second time around can be bumpier than an armadillo-laden roadway in Texas.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Fiancé!Reader

WC: 2120

Warnings: fair amount of drinking and flangst, relationships are hard, insecurities, cursing, sexy teasing, arguments, family issues, reader still saying shit like me IRL

*Please read Paschal Moon first. This story is a continuation of it.

A/N: It's been a minute since I've been up to writing after Covid kicked my arse, but I had this sequel idea bouncing around and splitting into two parts.

A/N II: I based readers home on this property I’d love to live on in Utley, Tx

A/N III: This is a work of fiction, and no intentional disrespect to the real-life persons contained within.

Square Filled: @jacklesversebingo -“I’ll always take care of you as long as you need me” in bold @j3bingo -Foreplay

*Moldavite

*divider by @firefly-graphics

*no Beta-all mistakes are mine

*photos found online

The screen doors creaking made Jensen look up from the sheet music he was working on and saw his fiancée couldn't help but smile. Six months ago, he was so deep in divorce drama that it was providence meeting this nerd-hot astronomy professor who lives in the boonies.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, sitting his guitar on the couch, expecting her to reciprocate, but she just walked through the kitchen door. Okay, that’s not good, Jensen thought. Crossing the main room, he found Y/N’s messenger bag lying on the floor, her jacket carelessly tossed on top, and shoes kicked in opposite directions.

Jensen heard a cabinet door slam shut in the shoebox-sized kitchen as he gathered the items and placed them in their usual spots before entering the kitchen to find Y/N leaning against the old butcher block countertop with a finger crooked in a bottle of Fireball Whiskey's handle, chugging it like an old moonshiner made him remark, “Guess you've had a day.”

Pulling off she bitterly responds: “It’s been crapdamntastic. And how was yours, dear?” This shocks her fiancé. Y/N never called him that, once saying the endearment had a negative connotation from her childhood when she suddenly stomped off. When the hundred-year-old farmhouse’s pipes rattle, it snaps Jensen out of it, and, like the last time Y/N had guzzled that much alcohol too fast, he sees the trail of clothes left in her wake.

Now concerned, he gathered the articles and deposited them in the bath hamper. “Gonna tell me what set you off this time?”

A very unladylike snort came from behind the shower's glass door, “Check your phone.” He retrieved it from the charger in the bedroom and plopped on the large bed, thumbing through multiple missed text stops at the one from his manager marked urgent opens the included link. “Wha…Motherfucker!”

In an exclusive interview, OTH star Danneel Ackles reveals the real reason her ex-husband, Supernatural's Jensen Ackles, deserted his family.

A bath sheet-wrapped Y/N sat down cross-legged, facing Jensen as he continually tugged a hand through his long hair while reading the article full of falsehoods. Jensen suddenly dropped his phone and reached for the bottle copied her earlier chugging, “You know those paparazzi that've been harassing since Inks Lake?”

Jensen acknowledges, remembering the night a few weeks ago when Y/N’s astronomy class took a field trip, secretly arranging to take her camping instead (something he wouldn’t normally do on a dare) and proposed during the celestial event.

“Well, today, they got into the auditorium during my lecture and began shouting those derogatory accusations from that piece when several of my students took it upon themselves to intervene. Long story short, I’m on unpaid leave until the school finishes its inquiry.” His following words this is my fault made Y/N snap. “Oh, the hell you say! You’re absofuckinglutley not at fault here! Danneel acting like a snake in the grass!”

“Danneels pissed because,” but Jensen didn’t finish, instead guzzling on the last of the bottle.

“Because beg-a-bitch badly miscalculated you’d come crawling back and trying to save face! Peaches, I knew being together would have bumps, but this?” She points to his phone, “Face facts, Jensen. Your ex is a Regina George who’s gone too damn far covering her swamp ass!” Jensen sputtered on the cinnamon whiskey burning down the wrong pipe, “Swamp ass?”

“Urban Dictionary, page two, definition four.”

Jensen began to speak, but Y/N placed her fingers against his plump lips. “You’ve always been inclined to let a lotta crap slide to keep the peace because she’s the mother of your children. But Jensen, it’s time to redraw the boundaries of what is acceptable and what’s not ‘cause I don’t want your kids to grow up with resentments like I have towards mine.”

“Ohhh my god! Keep giving it to me just like this Peaches!” 

Y/N, sucking on her fingers, moaned in ecstasy, then pulled them out with an obscene pop before reaching for another slab of the ribs Jensen fixed in the outdoor smoker. “Good thing we’re not in public; otherwise, you’d get an obscenity charge.”

“It was one time, and I got off with a warning.” She cheekily remarks, “Besides, my meat man deserves props.” Jensen’s fair skin flushed; his tell when embarrassed but also when aroused makes Y/N grin and tease him by sucking the bones clean.

“Y/N, I wanted to talk about something, and don’t take this the wrong way.” Jensen takes a long swig of his beer before tackling the tricky subject. “Since we’re staying with my family for dad’s birthday, could you tone it down? Your personality can be a bit much.” Y/N got that expression, which he still wasn’t sure how to interpret.

“Calling me extra, that’s rich, considering your profession is full of fake people.” Jensen suppressed his automatic response. “Y/N, it’s just my parents; they’re very conservative.” She dropped her uneaten ribs and sat back.

“I might’ve grown up po-dunk,” her tone signals he’s close to stepping over the line. “But I know how to act around those types; otherwise, I wouldn’t have my position at UT Austin, let alone be headhunted by SpaceX for their new facility coming to Texas!” The flash of surprise crossing Jensen’s face didn’t slow Y/N down. “Would working for Elon Musk be acceptable to the high-fluttering Ackles clan? Or do they consider his personality a bit much?”

Hitting his limit, Jensen’s near-perfect features morphing into I’m done with your shit expression irked her more.

“You know what? We’re a couple of liquorlip loaded guns and better table this conversation till capable of being civil. Thank you for dinner, it was delicious.” Y/N gets up and grabs the rest of the six-pack. “I’m gonna polish these off in the guest house.”

“This is your house.”

“I know.“ Y/N says, twirling her engagement ring around her finger. “Kinda hoping sleeping alone in my bed will clarify whether you had a holy fuck, I’m over forty and single again moment and jumped the gun proposing or really ready for this life with me.” She laid the ring on the table before Jensen, and staggering slightly down the porch steps, disappeared into the moonless night.

Jensen was sitting on the kitchen banquette, watching the ancient oak leaves dance on the breeze through the window, when Y/N padded in barefoot, clad in one of his T-shirts, damp hair hanging loosely down her back, and no makeup.

God, he loved how she rocked the all-natural look, so different from Danneel, who always had to be camera-ready, watches Y/N sleepily fumble around, realizing the kettle was already heated, she added the tea diffuser, steeping it before pouring it into an oversized mug.

She shuffles and plops across from him, leaning on an elbow, waiting for Jensen to speak. “It wasn’t a knee-jerk reaction. You are the person I want to be with for the rest of my life.”

“Why?”

That one-word question hung in the air because Jensen knew what Y/N wanted.

It wasn’t the usual platitudes of I love you or can’t live without you. She wanted him to be open, raw, vulnerable, something he always had trouble with, exposing his innermost self.

“Figured after a decade in the industry, I had a grasp of how to tell fake people from real ones. I believed I knew Danneel because we’d been friends. Then she kissed me in Ten Inch Hero and we,” Y/N quirked an eyebrow as he ran a hand through his long hair, “I knew her boyfriend but did all my thinking with the wrong head. It wasn’t my finest moment.”

Jensen picked up the mug he’d already drunk and refilled it. “Looking back, I realized there were signs; our normal banter changed at some point. It was stupidly easier to ignore our issues in Vancouver or at cons.” Y/N remains quiet, so Jensen wouldn’t stop opening the hurt box and acknowledging the truth.

“I let Danneel manipulate me, thinking she supported my career by encouraging me to take on more roles. After getting pregnant with JJ, said she wanted to move back to Texas to be closer to family. Then pushing for more kids, ignoring what I wanted, to secure her position. And the other duplicity’s to get financial support for whatever project interested her.”

Jensen didn’t notice Y/N sliding across the seat beside him as he buried his face in his hands, “I've been her lifelong meal ticket. How could I have been so fucking stupid?!”

“Jensen, you aren’t stupid, you were in love. And some marriages work better with a bit of separation. What’s making me hella pissed is Grade A Cunt going around acting like butter wouldn’t melt and blaming you for her cheating!”

Y/N softens her approach, “Those weeks you didn’t call, figured you lost my number cause you’re another Hollyweird dickwad who didn’t wanna get caught with Ms. one-foot outta the trailer park.” Jensen shook his head, “I wouldn’t have taken you bar hopping to the ones I frequent if being seen together was the real problem. Why didn’t I call,” he shook his head again. “I didn’t know how to respond to you crashing through my insecurities like a…”

“Two by four in a tornado?”

“Pretty accurate and disturbing description.”

“Peaches, wanna know what I see when I look at you?” Jensen turned toward her, eyes loaded with apprehension. “A guy who feels too much, so he hides behind this reserved veneer and Da Vinci perfect face, kinda like his alter ego.”

Jensen pushes the mug over and takes her hand, placing the ring back on her finger. “I don’t know how to be without you anymore, so do me a favor. Don’t take this off again, okay?”

“Okay,” she reaches up, cupping his bearded cheek, "Peaches, I’ll always take care of you as long as you need me. So, we done with this emotional colonic?” Jensen laughs and kisses her. “That’s my girl.” He then licked his lips, “How about heading back to bed? We have a few hours before picking up the kids.” Y/N got up taken both mugs to the sink.

“I guess, since my propensity to get laid is about to greatly diminish staying with your parents, the con, then you heading off to finish up The Winchesters afterwards.”

“You have the weirdest technique for enticing a guy, sweetheart.” Jensen’s T-shirt smacks him in the face, and he's about to give her what for is gobsmacked at a completely naked Y/N standing in the doorway striking a seductive pose.

“This technique work for you, Peaches?”

Jensen glances in the SUV's rearview mirror to see which of his kids are acting up. But Clif, without looking, knows what’s happening and loudly asked, “Do the adult children need a timeout?” The noise abruptly stops as Jared and Y/N point at each other and simultaneously say, “He/She started it!”

****

The trip ended up taking a lot longer due to road work slowing traffic on the way to dropping Jared and Clif off at the hotel, and Jensen was relieved to pull into his parents' driveway. Getting out, twisted his torso to loosen up tense back muscles froze when the squeals of mommy rang out, and heard Danneel say she was also staying for the weekend.

Y/N grabs Zeps's backpack before stomping to the vehicle's rear, and when Jensen rounds the SUV, he is greeted with obscenities that would make a sailor blush and luggage hitting concrete. “Sweetheart, I have no idea why Danneel is here...”

“Because I invited her,” Donna Ackles says from not three feet away, and Jensen becomes frosty.

“Mom, we discussed this. You knew I was introducing Y/N to the family this weekend.” Donna comes back with, “Just because you abandoned your marital oath doesn’t change the fact that Danneel's family. And I had assumed your friend would be staying at that hotel, too.”

“Well, you know what they say about assumptions, Mrs. Ackles.” Donna’s eyes widened at Y/N's flippant remark, “You are a very impudent!”

“No, ma’am, inviting your son's lying whore ex to stay in the same house without his knowledge, that’s impudent," Y/N retorts. “I’d bet the farm your intentions are to demonstrate to everyone how dime in a dollar store I seem next to Danneel, hoping Jensen will be embarrassed enough to send me packing. Hate to disappoint you, but I don’t intimidate easily. So,” She stepped into Donna personal space and, with hands on hips says…“Bring it on, Grandma.”

SPNTAGS:  @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva @lassie-bird  @nancymcl  @spnbaby-67 @leigh70 @b3autyfuld1sast3r

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies  @stoneyggirl2  @beabutterfly987   @smoothdogsgirl @deans-spinster-witch

[comikadraws]

Hello. I really like your analysis of the political stuff in naruto, and I just read your latest one in regard to Hashirama's odd neutrality towards 'the curse of hatred™'. But I kind of want to know now: could you say the same about Kishimoto himself? Does he agree with the 'curse' in a simular vein as H.? Or is H. a deliberately flawed character rather than something that the narrative primarily sides with? (because that's the impression I've got but it's been a while, so idk, I didn't really get the nuance of the plot in the way that you explore when I first watched it)

Authorial Intent and the Curse of Hatred

Okay, so I've got like ten other Naruto asks in my inbox but I will prioritize this one real quick because it is actually very central to a lot of my posts. I already went a little bit into this mess when I analyzed the "Curse of Hatred", but I feel like this topic deserves a post of its own.

This particular part of the discussion leaves the confines of Naruto as a fictional universe entirely and instead delves into the realms of authorial intent analysis and criticism.

My TL;DR is Kishimoto very much intended for the "Curse of Hatred" to be real and the narrative sides with Hashirama and Tobirama (and that is problematic). In the longer version, I am particularly focusing on Tobirama as he is the founder of the Uchiha Clan Genetic Theories™.

I also apologize in advance because pointing out Kishimoto's shortsighted writing is something I have gotten harassed over in the past. Hence I believe some theoretic knowledge is needed.

<Analysis under the cut>

Note: As always, blue links are external links or other people's posts. Red links are my own posts that add context to my thought process.

The problem with Kishimoto's intent is that the guy almost never explains the intention of his writing. This is why discussions like "Was Itachi retconned" or "Does Kishimoto hate Sakura" persist to this day. The only thing we are left with is to instead infer the meaning from other sources (such as the manga itself or minor remarks from interviews).

My conclusion is influenced mainly by four things: The social and political context behind Naruto, Kishimoto's usual treatment of sensitive topics, the narrative of the manga itself, and fantasy genre conventions.

But before all that, here's a little info dump.

Death of the Author

In opposition to the idea that the "Curse of Hatred" is real in canon stands the idea that it was just Tobirama's racist propaganda piece - and this is actually a fairly widespread thought. Not necessarily a misconception, however, as it depends on your school of thought when it comes to engaging with fictional text - Extreme intentionalism (full submission to the author's intent), Anti-intentionalism (complete disregard of the author's intent), or anything in between. While extreme intentionalism can probably be considered the "truest to canon" (as opposed to anti-intentionalism, which is more like a subjective interpretation or "headcanon") it is also incredibly limiting to our fandom experience.

Before I continue this, I need people to understand that both approaches are valid. Especially in instances in which the author's intent translates very poorly into our contemporary understanding of the world, as is the case with the "Curse of Hatred". Both authorial intent and the audience's interpretation are vital puzzle pieces when engaging with a piece of media critically.

To clarify, I do not support Kishimoto's writing decisions in this. I am not pushing an anti-Uchiha clan agenda. What I am going for is analyzing Kishimoto's intended canon. As I have already pointed out, it is a canon that is problematic and nobody should be forced to submit to.

With that out of the way, back to the main topic.

Social and Political Context of Naruto

Personally, I believe it is possible that Kishimoto intended to portray themes of prejudice in his story. Mostly in the sense in which people get defined for their worst character traits (as we can see when comparing Tobirama's and Hashirama's characterization of the Uchiha Clan) or for their affiliations (as is also the case with Jinchuriki). I do not believe, however, that he was aiming for racism specifically - and definitely not for scientific racism, let alone eugenic ideologies. And this has a lot to do with Japan's lack of sensitivity when it comes to racism.

For starters, Japan has a very ethnically homogenous society with about 98% of its population being ethnically Japanese and therefore having one of the lowest diversity scores in the world. On top of that, Japan has no national human rights institutions or laws against racial discrimination. The Japanese population is rather unsensitized to themes of racism.

To not turn this into a fallacy of composition, a different user pointed out that Naruto (as a story) was possibly influenced by Japan's reactionary right-wing movement (possibly revealing Kishimoto's own political standing). The movement responded to an increase in anti-Japanese sentiment across Asia. Said sentiment was sparked by a controversy in which Japan omitted its war crimes (which is a well-known pattern in Japanese politics).

At the very least, it is correct that Naruto is very pro-state in its way of protecting the state's reputation by hiding its crimes from the public consciousness. Kishimoto himself demonstrates an incomplete understanding of Japan's war history by unintentionally paralleling WW2 crimes in his story or claiming that the war was the result of mere grudges when, in reality, it was racism and imperialist ideologies.

While this is just my hypothesis, Kishimoto's lack of political and social awareness could easily influence his perception of social injustices, such as racism. Insensitivity, meanwhile, might reduce any motivation to engage with such themes.

Inadequate Realization of Sensitive Storylines

So about insensitivity... This might actually be less of a hypothesis when we look at Kishimoto's repeated failure to address sensitive topics in his writing with dignity and/or a critical lens. I've also ranted about this in an older post.

We are talking about child soldiers and death matches between children (Chunin Exams), slavery (Hyuga Clan), human experimentation (Orochimaru), human trafficking (Kushina and maybe Mito) genocide (Uchiha Massacre), and the invasion of neutral territory (Amegakure). In all of these cases, crimes are not further acknowledged than a brief admittance of "damage was done" before the plot forgets about them entirely.

Chunin exams? Never talked about again.

Slavery? Naruto promised to change the Hyuga clan but never mentions it again.

Human experimentation? Orochimaru is welcomed back after his exile.

Human trafficking? The Jinchurikis got stockholmed, so everything's good!

Genocide? Addressing that might tarnish the Uchiha Clan's reputation. So we don't.

Invasion of neutral territory? We never see Amegakure again after Konan's passing.

It is a larger pattern in which social injustice is primarily introduced to add flavor in the form of "tragic backstories" but not actually to resolve it. We are supposed to condemn those tragedies, to feel sympathetic - but we are not supposed to criticize Konoha as a main perpetrator, enabler, or apologist.

To me, it doesn't seem like Kishimoto ever truly cared about those social issues. He knows they are bad, yes, but they were never the focus of the story and Kishimoto barely even stops to consider the implications.

The Manga's Narrative

The story does not engage critically with itself. And frankly, it also does not demand such critical thinking from its readers either.

In the manga, we are often presented with incorrect or incomplete exposition from unreliable narrators. Obito lies all the time, Madara gets the wrong story from Zetsu, Itachi gets the wrong story from who-knows-where, and Sasuke doesn't know what's going on half the time. The interesting part is how the truth behind those lies is usually uncovered.

Usually, we do not know that any of them are perpetuating a lie until said lie gets corrected by another character. Said character is usually a "source" in the sense that they have personally experienced the (until then) falsified events.

It is very rare that the audience gets to pick up on little clues to realize that a character is lying. One such instance is when Obito directly contradicts Itachi in his rendition of the story. But even then, the conflict between their two renditions gets resolved by a "source" character in the form of Kushina retelling the events from sixteen years ago.

Now, let's compare this to the "Curse of Hatred".

I have already mentioned this in another post (where I analyzed the curse and its contents), but the "Curse of Hatred" is first officially introduced by Obito. He focuses on the Uchiha's war-torn history and how that influenced its members. Tobirama more or less builds on that, adding his hypothesis about the Uchiha Clan's Sharingan and its effect on the user. Then Hagoromo adds some things about the reincarnation cycle that might play into this. In the end, Zetsu wraps it all up by revealing that he manipulated the Uchiha Clan for centuries.

The problem is that not one of these puzzle pieces directly contradicts the other and instead, they appear to complement each other. Therefore, no lie gets officially "disproven" in the story itself. Tobirama's Theories are treated as though they were perfectly fine fact that does not require revision.

We can further infer Tobirama's credibility on the matter by judging the present characters' reactions.

Hashirama, as explained in my previous post, tolerates if not accepts Tobirama's ideas. Orochimaru shows himself hostile toward Tobirama but does not take the chance to contradict him. Sasuke, who is an Uchiha and has personal experience with the Sharingan, shows no signs of protest. Skepticism, yes, but it slowly fades away until he seemingly accepts Tobirama's words as truth. He does not even attempt to argue against it.

Add to that that Tobirama is generally presented as a truthful character, described as "rational" and "principled" in the databook. He regularly criticizes or insults other characters without the bat of an eye, seemingly having no problem with tarnishing his own reputation, unconcerned with keeping up false appearances. He is not the type of character to lie.

Yes, Tobirama comes off as a bigot regardless, but that's because he's essentially an asshole and not because he is actually intended to be racist. Even in the event that what he says is non-factual, he fully believes it is. But also, the possibility that Tobirama is talking nonsense is not even hinted at (again, he is described as "rational" and no character seems to disapprove of the Uchiha Clan Genetic Theory TM).

Fantasy Fiction Conventions

In fantasy writing, none of what Tobirama says is actually uncommon. In fact, if anything, his theories concerning the Sharingan resemble popular fantasy tropes.

In Anime, many powers are awakened through trauma. This is called "Traumatic Superpower Awakening". The Sharingan is just one of many offenders, even in the story of Naruto. This reflects Tobirama's idea that the Sharingan is triggered through great emotional pain.

It is also a common trope that characters who gain too much power eventually go insane. This is called the "With Great Power Comes Great Insanity" trope and reflects the Uchihas' to essentially take away psychic damage alongside each newly awakened Sharingan power. Kishimoto just specifically linked that insanity or pain to the Sharingan (which represents the power of the Uchiha).

Yet another trope is the "Personality Powers" trope. This one can be seen in the Uchiha Clan's tendency to feel deep love and hate - at least one of which is essential for the awakening of a Mangekyo Sharingan (and, depending on the circumstances, a regular Sharingan). Hence Tobirama calls it "the eyes that reflect the heart". In other words, the personality facilitates the power.

Last but not least, we've got the fantasy races trope. The author invents a race and then assigns it distinct characteristics (both physiology and behavior-wise).

In its most extreme cases, this can be used to create an "enemy race" (such as orcs, vampires, demons, etc.) for the good guys to fight. It usually removes complexity from the story by dumbing down the enemy to simply just being "born evil".

Now, notice how the Uchiha Clan's Hatred could be considered a personification of Kishimoto's idea that wars are caused by grudges? Furthermore, Kishimoto makes that comment at a point in time (February 2012) when all three main antagonists of the story are Uchihas (Madara is revived in chapter 559, which was released October 2011), and then releases Tobirama's theory a year later (February 2013).

This one, unlike the other three, is particularly controversial as fantasy races often get conflated with real-life ethnicities. This is not always the intention of the author, however, as they often never intended to portray racial stereotypes. For two particularly popular examples, take a look at Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings" or Itagaki's "Beastars".

On one hand of this debate, you have that fantasy races are unlike human ethnicities and do not necessarily reflect reality, simply because the author decides what is real in canon or not and because fantasy is always a lie from a real-world perspective. Hence the Curse of Hatred, or rather, Tobirama's Theory is canon.

On the other, fiction does not exist in a vacuum and it is impossible not to apply our contemporary understanding of racism and ignore what are otherwise screaming red flags of racist ideology. Hence we recognize Tobirama's explanation as racism and wish to reject the Curse of Hatred as a concept.

But these two ideas can coexist.

The problem is just that Kishimoto likely only accounted for one thing and not the other. His intention translated very poorly into our contemporary understanding of the world, making Tobirama (and therefore, Hashirama as well) the victims of short-sighted writing.

Who cares anyway?

In the beginning, I explained that regardless of what Kishimoto intended for his story, any interpretation is valid. So why should we care about what the author thinks?

In my analyses (which are separate from my headcanons), I will usually take an "Extreme Intentionalism" approach in which I prioritize the author's intent over the reader's interpretation. Not because I am opposed to the idea that the reader's interpretation is relevant to the meaning of a text but because readers' interpretations are unique to the individual. Focusing on such an individual interpretation can easily alienate those who don't share it. Hence I like to focus on something that is more informative, almost objective in nature, such as the author's likely intended canon - which people can then mould into whatever suits their headcanon best.

I have also noticed that, sometimes, anti-intentionalist takes will devolve into full-blown lies (sometimes with the purposeful intention of omitting canon). This lie can then be upheld in an attempt to condemn or rather bully those with intentionalist interpretations. This unwittingly protects the writer (as well as problematic writing conventions) from criticism.

This is why I think even Anti-Intentionalists should inform themselves of an author's intention. This is, more or less, an aspect of media literacy as it allows us to identify biased or manipulative narratives and take purposeful action. In our case, this involves questioning and criticizing Kishimoto as an individual, raising awareness about his writing's shortcomings, and learning from his mistakes.

[cpericardium]

This might be a little deranged to just drop in your askbox but you're one of the few people in academia I actually trust (especially to give an honest opinion) so here goes: (Also, enjoy a more formal form of English for once, as this feels more like an email to a professor than a tumblr ask to a mutual.)

So when I was in my creative fiction classes, I noticed a lot of my peers would focus on writing short stories that focused on self-contained narratives, trying to be witty and punchy. Which is completely fair, in my opinion. However, I always thought that, "Hey, we're not trying to write the next Metamorphosis here, right? Why wouldn't you use these flash fiction opportunities to, I don't know, flesh out dynamics between a set of characters you intend to write about for a while?" Obviously that's largely what I did with my assignments, beyond a few exceptions.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I always felt like everyone else was crazy for writing what boiled down to Chapter One of their derivative grimdark fantasy concept, instead of being like: "Okay this is how these characters meet and how their story ends. Now this next story is about them meeting and ending in a different way. Now this one changes their dynamics a little. Now this one changes it a lot." etc. I'm curious if you think instead that I was the crazy one, which wouldn't be unusual. Not sure! Let me know! Or don't, and delete this crazy ask from your inbox.

I don't think either approach is unusual! Both are typical, in fact. Been in plenty of workshops where people share flash fiction or short pieces from their short story cycles, exploring the dynamics of the same cast of characters and/or the same setting. It's also fun to see how having read the previous piece informs the way you read the latest one. And yeah... I've seen the boring fantasy dnd campaign chapter 1. I've seen the bad twilight OC fanfiction too (more than once). But there's nothing wrong with that. The beauty of the workshop is that you decide what you want to get out of it, whether it's possibilities, impressions, suggestions for what to revise or cut or polish.

IMO it's less frustrating to workshop self-contained pieces simply because with longform excerpts, your peers are gonna critique or ask about things that are already addressed later down the line. So they have to hedge like "well I don't know if you plan on doing this but..." The only reason I'd submit a novel excerpt is if I were blanking on ideas and needed generative feedback for how to continue, or if I wanted to gauge reactions to something fresh I'm trying out. Worse to submit a chapter from the middle of the novel because half your feedback will be "who's this guy" or "[thing that was explained in chapter 1] doesn't make sense to me."

[greenerteacups]

Hello GT! I almost never comment on anything online, but (after binge-reading Lionheart in about three days) I'm overcome with a desperate need to confess that I've developed an enormous intellectual crush on you as an author. I've never been particularly drawn to Dramione as a pairing before now - or even the HP universe in general as more than a very casual fan - but after reading nearly 600 thousand of your words, I'd be craving more even if that number was 600 million. Thank you very much for sharing Lionheart with the world.

It's a rare pleasure to read something where an immense thoughtfulness shines through so brightly not simply in bits and pieces here and there, but consistently throughout every line and every subplot you stitch together. There are other works of fiction out there that I love, but very, very few of them have been carefully crafted enough to allow me as a reader to sit back and have unshakeable confidence in the depth of the author's vision. Everything you write, from the smallest descriptive details to the grander puzzle pieces tying together each book, is delivered with such intentionality. Sometimes when reading other fiction I'll find myself impatiently wondering "okay, fantastic build-up, but when are we getting to the *really good* part"; with you, every part is the good part. The oft-cited slow-burn mantra of "it's not the destination, it's the journey" doesn't even ring true for me with Lionheart - because in your capable hands, you hurl us straight at that destination with every chapter. All of this to say that my starstruck inner writer is currently pinning a hypothetical pin-up poster of you to my hypothetical writer-ly bedroom wall as someone to look up to.

One of my favourite aspects of your work is how utterly hilarious you are both in your character dialogue and your prose. You've made me laugh more than you've made me cry - and you're guilty of making me cry a lot, especially in Book Four. You balance us between hysterical (funny) and hysterical (dirty, raw feelings) without a trace of whiplash, quite often imparting both simultaneously. Is interweaving humour with Everything Else something that comes naturally to you while writing or is it a process you're consciously juggling?

I've brooded and preened over this message for entirely far too long, and it's not fair to you. Suffice it to say you're kinder than I deserve and this made me want to cry. Any and all pin-up posters of me should render me looking like a deer in headlights, as is the appropriate reaction to this kind of honor.

I'm especially delighted by the hysteria (plural)! In general, it's easier for me to write humor than it is for me to write drama. Not that either one is easy as such, but I think drama requires more architecture. You don't have to explain if a joke is funny; it just is funny, and the audience knows why the characters are laughing/amused/happy. In drama, you have to achieve a certain level of technical character work to set up the punch of a moment; there's stakes, plotting, resonance, etc., and then you have to actually deliver it in a way that isn't either flippant, ironic, or Narm. Basically, there are more axes of failure. And the stakes of a joke failing are pretty low, too: worst case, your audience is like "eh, not that funny" and they move on. If a dramatic moment fails, it can take the legs out from under a whole arc.

One of my tests for whether a moment is ripe for comedy is the question of what the comedy is doing. Is it a realistic reflection of the character's voice in that situation? And, perhaps more importantly: why am I feeling the need to put comedy in this scene? Do I want it because it's natural and tone-appropriate, or am I trying to disguise my own insecurity about the dramatic content of the scene? If the latter, I tend to cut. You can't write from fear, you know?

[comfortlesshurt]

🎁🥳💘 for the fanfic writer ask game!

BLESS

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

Ooh, you're activating my inner turmoil--is it better to share and ruin surprises or hide and not get the fun of sharing?

...okay, middle option: dropping a broad overview!

The big thing I'm working on is (and I cringe to call it this because I hate this term for some reason, but it's the best term for it) a series rewrite. I wanted something that can keep everything I like from canon while also leaving room for me to throw in some completely new situations that are pretty much incompatible with canon. Plus, I get to look at things that were glanced over on-screen and go more in-depth on those. Also, it's baby's first real ship fic!

(It's actually been so frustrating because a lot of what goes into it are ideas I normally would've covered as a oneshot! But they fit well and help flesh things out, so they're serving better as material for this fic. Downside is I end up with fewer workable oneshot ideas now; hence the minor burnout.)

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

I might've answered something close to this recently, so my bad if I'm repeating myself! I started because (I think it was) my fourth grade teacher told me I was good at writing fiction, and I'm a sucker for being told I'm good at things. I had no idea what fanfiction was at the time actually, but my sister and I were already roleplaying scenarios from our favorite TV shows, so adding in the concept of writing scenarios for my faves wasn't a far jump!

I'm hoping it's long dead and buried where no one can find it ever again, but knowing my mom's tendencies to hoard things, there may be some bad Code Lyoko post-canon fanfiction floating around her house.

💘 Is it easier to write angst or fluff?

Angst, 100%. Reading fluff is honestly growing on me slowly, but at its heart, I find it too unrealistic to enjoy writing much. (Would love to be proven wrong someday! But for the time being, I've seen a lot more angsty IRL situations than fluffy ones, and I'm a big fan of "write what you know.")

Everyone, go send an ask to my friend if you're in the mood! They've got the same game up!

[blurryfangirlansuke]

Now you maybe wondering that about me being absent one of them is college I can't control that it depends on my degree and planning what I want to do in my adult life. Also I want to get this out of my chest. I'm perfectly fine when people tell my obsession with Duke goes too far causing me to lose friends or just being all over a character that doesn't exist. I understand and I do apologize if I make feel people uncomfortable and when ask people if they can draw myself and Duke together they don't have to I make it very optional and I have plenty of other characters to simp for but Duke is #1 he'll always be. He's the reason why I'm being stable from being lonely and stress between reality and trying to become independent. It's not easy when your autistic and have social anxiety and learning different ways of how to do things. Duke is a comfort and I believe everyone should have a comfort character if not then perhaps your best friend or family .

Whenever I see a picture of Duke or art heck even gifts people draw for me it makes me touched and happy because I love this vampire and yes he's fictional but it's fun to simp and also appreciate the creator who put there heart and soul making characters to adore and even be interested with there stories and series.

Another thing I get so happy is when I commission the creator of the series Duke's plays the lead one along with Missi the vampire who tolerates him. The creator absolutely knows me so well and always spoils me with amazing commissions of me and Duke also she's close and appreciates fans like me for liking character such as Duke . Also buying loads of merchandise from the creator's store and main do I go buck while on everything worse then going to a barns and noble xD.

I am a busy person who gets free time and sometimes not so much. I'm working on my degree, learning the good and bad things in life even if I don't understand. I attend to also write my fanfics whenever I get the chance to take a break on drawing nonstop art of Duke. It also gives me ideas for myself if I ever want to make a character of my own and I know one day the character is going to be inspired by many artists I admire if you see what I usual post xD.

I have dreams of being with Duke in real life like he stays with me in my campus, we go for nightwalks, I lay in his coffin or king size bed and talk for hours. I wake up and he's not there with me. I know this feeling is loneliness which I'm use to since I have a hard time reaching out to people and the art I do might probably not spark interest. I miss my sister who's in college we have a great bond, I love my parents always support me, I have friends and fans online here that support me.

However I really wish I didn't feel this way. I know I attend to seek help with my advisors or talk to my sister it does help. I'm not normal and then okay because hey we all special and unique in our ways. Duke is fictional but he's my happiness and true comfort and I'll always love him even if I want to strangle him.

Yes I've been a little depressed and overwhelmed but that's life we have our good days and bad days. Crying does help me let everything out and start a better day. Eventually this blog will also get more hearts soon and also I have to be present for that to happen which I try. I appreciate you listening to me and I don't want end things sad especially since this is me and Duke's month so I made a healing art piece and color it about us. I really appreciate the support and love you all give me. This helps me to stay motivated and keep going. Don't worry I'll post more things and happy stuff. Letting this vent things pass.

Thank you for listening and much love you all Spooklings 🥰

[robynroost]

Okay so I've done some write-ups for various fandoms in the past, and having been in the Stardew Valley for a little while now (I'm soo LATE to the game but I'm glad I get to experience it!) I thought why not a Shane fiction seeing as he is my absolute favourite character! Really be addicted to this man istg ;-; anyway, I'm not sure what write ups are like here, but I wanna share! Hope y'all like it! It's short and sweet, not great either, but I enjoyed writing it all the same ^^

The Long Walk Home

(Fic based on Shane's 8 heart event during the storm)

Pairing - Shane x Farmer (Female Y/n!)

Warnings - Mentions of sui*ide, depression, anxiety etc. Hospitals, alcoholism...

Description - After spending your evening speaking with Emily about your previous encounter with Shane at Marnie's ranch (previous heart event) an early storm roles in as you leave, taking the long walk back to your little farmhouse. It isn't until your foot bumps into something odd that you realise not everything is as it seems in Cindersap Forest...

Thunder rolled overhead. What had previously been predicted for the end of the Summer season had come early: a torrential downpour of fat, heavy luke-warm raindrops and the whip-cracking sound of clouds crashing into eachother at such an outstanding velocity that the sky tore in two with the claws of lightning bolts.

You had been perched upon a stool inside the cozy Stardrop Saloon of Pelican Town, head buried into your muddied arms with your right hand clutching onto a half-empty glass of water after a long day in the fields. Work hadn't intended to be so difficult, albeit the thought of what had happened the day previously had you wracking your brains with guilt and worry for the past several hours - even as you attempted to sleep.

"I'm sure Shane will be fine." Emily sat opposite you, her hand working a cloth inside one of the Saloon glasses as she continued, her expression attempting to be cheerful with a splash of hope, "I've known him ever since he moved here with little Jas. He's always been to himself, always here drinking..."

Your head snapped upright with a frown, "That's the point. He's always drinking, and he's always to himself..." You wavered your hand in a gesture that could only explain your worry further, "I mean- who has actually spent the time to ask him how he's really feeling?"

Emily replied with a shrug and a frown, "Nobody really gets much else out of him than the snarky replies, so nobody really bothers." She buried her hand deeper into the glass as she spoke, your eyes watching closely as the squeaking became louder,  "I do tend to get more of a friendlier conversation mind you, but that's about it, poor guy..."

"Guess I'm just worried about him is all, he does seem like a lovely person. I've spent enough time with him at the dock to see that." You murmured with a shrug.

Another splitting crash of thunder had the walls of the Saloon shake. You narrowed your eyes upward towards the celling as if you expected the entire thing to collapse under the sheer malice of such a storm. Emily too shared your concerned expression and took a step back, tipping her head a few times towards the door, "You best be off if you want to get home in one piece."

"Yeah too right," you agreed whilst scooping yourself up and fixing your boots into place, "Thanks for the chat though. I'll go see how Shane's doing tomorrow. Gonna be passing that way back home actually, I fancy a walk."

With a wave and a bow of farewell you were on your way, arms crossed to shield yourself from the debris that the wind had managed to strip from the trees as you made your way back through Cindersap Forest. The rain had practically flooded you by the time you'd taken five steps out of the Saloon, but you welcomed it. Summer had been unusually hot this year, and you and your crops needed the much needed water to moisten your dry skin.

Now with such dark, thick clouds overhead, you struggled to see a good few feet ahead of you, and the jet stream of rain didn't seem to help either.

Of course I forgot my flashlight... how could I possibly-

Clank!

That wasn't thunder...?

There it was again. That same clanking noise that sounded awfully familiar to "Beer cans...?"

There now resting cold and wet in your hand was an empty beer can after you had bent down to investigate. It had to be the same brand of alcohol as the cans you had seen in Shane's room yesterday. That's when a heavy gust of wind disturbed the forest floor and with that the sound of various other cans echoed down the pathway leading towards the edge of the forest, close to the cliffside.

Curiosity always got the better of you, you'd admit, but this was a different sort. It was anxiety bubbling away in your stomach, a knot so tight and horrifying it urged you to just go and follow that ominous trail - it was fear gnawing away at your bones...

So you followed with a frown.

A can here, a can over there... until you saw it through the flash of lightning. A silhouette of a man face down, teetering on the edge of the cliffside, surrounded by empty cans.

You could barely feel your throat vibrate when your chest constricted, letting out a terribly frightened yelp. Your feet charged aimlessly towards the scene, your heart rampaging inside your chest. You collapsed next to him, hands gripping onto the drenched blue rugged jumper as you begged for him to show you any signs of life, "Shane- come on Shane wake up!"

There was a sudden shift, and you felt yourself flopping back onto your knees with wide eyes and a slack jaw, hands now buried into your lap.

"...Y/n?" Shane barely managed to wheeze out at you, jaw clenched and eyes shut firmly. He stifled a sob, "I...I'm sorry..."

You found yourself silent and unmoving, as if you had a complete understanding of the situation and knew what to do: let Shane speak his truth. Regardless, you couldn't make much noise from your voice box through the shock anyway.

The man let out a drunken hiccup and barely managed to take in another breath as he continued, "M...My life... it's a pathetic joke."

Your eyes, heavy with sadness, caught sight of the tears that escaped his ducts. Even with such heavy rain, you could just tell that those droplets sliding down his cheek grew more heavy than the downpour itself.

Shane continued, "Look at me... why do I even try?" Sobbing again, much harder this time, Shane recoiled into himself. He felt his hand slip over the edge of the cliffside and narrowly opened an eye to take a look out into the horizon, "I'm too small and stupid to... to take control of my own life. I'm just a p... piece of soiled garbage flittering in the wind..." He jerked, having almost thrown up the incredibly high amount of alcohol he had consumed prior, and felt himself nearing the edge some more, eyes now focusing on the border of the cliffside, "I've been coming here often lately... looking down... here's a chance to finally take control of my life... these cliffs..."

You could have sworn you felt your heart shatter. You knew Shane was struggling but not like this... it had you completely broken listening to the pain in his voice. Your hands shook uncontrollably as you continued to listen.

"B... but I'm too scared-" Shane jolted again, forcing his mouth shut, "... too anxious. Just like always..."

You felt Shane's attention focus on you this time, "Y/n... all I do is work, sleep and drink...t... to dull the feelings of self-hatred." He was now angling his head towards you, deep green eyes focused on your own as you silently gasped with a visible flinch, "Why should I even go on? Tell me... T... Tell me why I shouldn't roll off this cliff right now."

A moment of clarity finally hit. You knew this was your time to speak. Shane gazed at you expectantly, deep purple hair clinging to his drenched face.

You took a deep breath, barely holding back a sob of your own, before steadying yourself to speak with a broken expression,  "The decision is your own. Just know that I'm here for you."

Shane remained silent for a moment, and another roaring crash of thunder echoed overhead. The storm should surely pass soon.

Finally, he answered, a small glint of hope now shining through the dark shadow behind those eyes, "... Thanks. I appreciate that. I really do."

Your head tipped to the side, a sad frown formed upon your face as you attempted to place your hand upon Shane's, but ultimately pulled back. Shane let out a gurgled cough and groan before attempting to lift himself, though he barely managed a few centermeters before collapsing back down, "Y/n... I think you should take me to the hospital now."

Your eyes widened, and you barely had time to even think before you were on your feet and gently scooped Shane up, letting him wrap his arms around your shoulders to keep him upright, "It's gonna be a long walk... but I'll get you there. Just don't give up Shane. Stay awake. Let me know if you need to stop or anything, okay?"

Shane whined out in pain but stabled himself against you, wincing in pain as he barely managed to stand straight. He nodded, gripping onto you as if his life depended on it- which it did, of course.

You gave him a squeeze for comfort and began your perilous walk, "I'll get you there Shane. I promise..."

***

White hospital lights hummed overhead. You found yourself waking from a short nap, head against the pearl-coloured sheets of a bed, but not your own. As you rose to sit upright, your tired eyes caught sight of Shane. He was tucked neatly under the sheets, hair now mostly dry and fluffed up, sticking in all different angles but mainly falling over his closed eyes. His chest rose and fell softly in such a way that at long last showed relaxation for such a mentally exhausted individual.

A sigh of absolute relief escaped your lungs, finding yourself gazing at the man's face in awe of how peaceful he finally seemed.

"How are you Y/n?" The voice that jolted you upright was none other than Harvey, the town doctor and one you knew well. He came to stand bedside your chair, looking down.

You offered Harvey a reassuring smile, "I'm doing okay, thank you Harvey. Just a little cold."

A small nod from Harvey reaffirmed his content with your own wellbeing. You hadn't come down with a fever, nor a cough, so you were going to be fine. He then turned his attention to Shane, "I've pumped his stomach and re-hydrated his body. He's going to be okay."

You gave Harvey a slow nod, sighing in the process as you frowned softly, eyes locked onto Shane's face as he slept. You felt the warmth of Harvey's hand meet your shoulder to offer some comfort as he spoke, "It's good you brought him in, though."

A wave of concern washed over Harvey's face as he spoke, "Too much alcohol is terrible for the body, but I'm more worried about his mental health..."

Me too... you wanted to speak that out loud, but something stopped you. For now, you just wanted to remain silent.

"Once he comes to," Harvey continued, "I'll have a chat with him about his treatment options. I know an excellent councelor in Zuzu City."

Ha... something that concrete jungle is actually good for...

You felt yourself shudder. Shane seemed so peaceful now... so content. You could hardly believe that you could have lost him tonight. If you hadn't made your way back through Cindersap, who knows what would have happened... Harvey's hand squeezed your shoulder to bring you back round, and you gazed upward to meet his eye.

"Life can be painful, sometimes..." Harvey spoke with a spark of confidence, "But there's always hope for a better future. You've got to believe in that." With that, Harvey removed his hand and gave you a smile before exiting the room. You heard the audible click of the door as it shut and felt your gaze drift back over towards Shane.

Your head tipped to the side, and with a small smile, you placed your hand upon Shane's. He stirred slightly, fingers twitching, before he too began to smile ever so slightly. You felt a jolt within your chest, a warm fuzzy feeling that completely shrouded each nerve ending within you. Tonight's events... the way you felt yourself gazing so protectively over the man ahead of you, and the idea of almost losing him had your head spinning until finally you felt realisation dig its claws into you.

You'd fallen for him. You had fallen in love, and you'd almost lost that all in one night, but here you were with your hand against Shane's own.

Now you were just thankful you had taken the long walk home.

[softguarnere]

*slides a crisp $20 bill across the table* being an intelligence officer working with Nixon and having a thing for each other because I’m in love with how you write him 🫶🏽

Hold Me Close While I Think This Through

Lewis Nixon x reader

A/N: "I'm in love with how you write him" when I tell you I'm sitting here with tears in my eyes 🥹 I've literally had the worst writer's block this past week, so I hope this came out okay! (As always, this is written for the fictional depiction from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️

Warnings: language, drinking, this isn't proof read - we die like men 🫡

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting through Regimental HQ somehow makes the morning seem a little more crisp, new, and exciting. A few people spare glances in your direction as you pass. None of them matter, though. Not when you’ve got your eyes set on the two men sitting at a table straight ahead – one of which the sight of makes your heart run wild like a race horse, the only thing containing it the bars of your rib cage . . . and the knowledge that he’s married.

“Well good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Nixon chirps as you approach. Leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk and sipping a cup of coffee, he looks like he owns the place. No other person in the Army has looked quite so relaxed this whole war. He looks like a spectator, not someone who’s always in the midst of danger, gathering intel and navigating the chess board that is military politics. It's a stark juxtaposition to the man beside him, who’s flipping through some papers and scribbling notes on them every now and then, looking serious.

Winters offers you a small smile. “Morning, (Y/N).”

“Morning, gents.” Playfully, you push Nixon’s feet off the desk before taking a seat next to Winters. “We all know that if you had your way, no one would be sleeping later than you.”

“Oh har har.”

“She’s got a point, Nix,” Winters says with a smirk. “You wouldn’t be at half of our meetings if I weren’t forcing you up.”

“Not you too.”

“Honesty is a virtue.”

Before any more digs can be made at his expense, Nixon grabs a file from a stack on the desk and tosses it in your direction. It lands beside you with a weak thwack! on top of some other papers that he’s left laying about.

“New assignment,” he says by way of explanation.

Flipping it open sends waves of excitement flooding over you. Your eyes keep skipping ahead, trying to take in all the information at once. Can this be true? You have to reread the carefully printed lines several times to make sure that you’re not imagining things.

“Oh my God.”

Winters pauses mid-scribble, glancing up at you. “Well that’s more than the usual exasperated sigh.”

Nixon smiles around his coffee cup. “Let me guess: they want another map?”

“No.” You read the lines one last time – just in case. Carefully, you close the file and run a hand over the cover with the same reverence that a priest might a Bible. “They want to send me behind enemy lines.”

Nixon chokes on his drink. “They what?!” He splutters.

You’re too proud to notice the way that your fellow intelligence officer’s face goes pale, or the way that Winters sends him a worried glance. All you know is that this is your chance. To get out from behind the desk and into the field. To do something that will make a real difference in the war.

This is your time to shine.

--

God, he hasn’t been this uncomfortable since he was eighteen and standing in the living room at his graduation party while extended family milled about, pumping his hand with congratulatory handshakes and then wandering off to judge the furniture placement and snicker over hors d’oeuvres. He had spent half the evening sneaking pulls from a flask to loosen up, and besides the incident in which one of his mother’s cousins had shoved a piece of cake into the face of an uncle from his dad’s side, the only thing he can really recall from that evening is the stifling feeling that accompanies dressing up and rubbing elbows with society’s upper crust.

Ironic, that going off to war and hoping it would get him away from all that somehow managed to throw him right back into the remnants of that suffocating existence. He needs a drink.

Snatching a tall glass from a waiter that’s passing by, he downs it in one long gulp before giving the sprawling ballroom another once over as he tries to get his bearings. There’s really nothing to see except a bunch of rich German officers strutting around, puffing out their chests while women who gleam under the heavy armor of precious stones that they wear trapse after them, clinging to their arms and occasionally managing to drag one to the dance floor.

Something catches his eye. Along the far wall, one woman shines brighter than the rest, despite the fact that she wears nowhere near as much jewelry. She doesn’t need it; she sparkles all on her own – she is her own precious gemstone. With her simple gown and demure demeanor, she looks like a modern day Cinderella observing the party, not sure if she should join in or not.

You play your part well. Nixon knows better; you are not nearly so shy and reserved. It’s all an act to attract young officers in the hopes that they’ll dance with you and let some key bit of intel slip in an attempt to impress you. None of this is real – not really, Nixon knows that.

So they why do his hands automatically clench into fists at his side at the thought of a Kraut officer flirting with you – dancing with you – even looking at you?

He knows the answer. He has known it for a long time, even if it took Dick – of all people – pointing it out to him to make him confront his truth. The honest fact of the matter is that Lewis Nixon has fallen for you – hard. But there’s a war on. And the fact that he’s married. Not to mention that you obviously only think of him as a friend.  

Sometimes fiction can be a veil behind which the truth hides itself. And undercover, what are the two of you tonight if not a piece of fiction? he reasons.

If you’re surprised to see him, your face betrays nothing when he joins you along the wall. Your smile is pleasant, your shy demeanor unchanged as you pretend to introduce yourself to him in flawless German.

Then, quietly, “What are you doing here? Where’s Lieutenant – “

“His orders were changed,” he says quickly. There’s no need to mention the fact that the intelligence officer you were supposed to be meeting was put on a different assignment at Nixon’s request. It didn’t take much convincing to make the upper brass see that his upper class background enables him to better navigate parties such as this one. And only Dick seems to realize why he was so adamant about being the one to accompany you behind enemy lines.

You give him a sideways glance. You’re too smart not to have questions about the sudden change of plans, but there’s no time for any of that when you’re surrounded by people who would gladly kill you both in a heartbeat if they were to find out who you really were and what you were doing.

“Danced with anyone interesting tonight?”

“Only him.” You risk a subtle nod in the direction of a young officer who stands among much older men, all of them covered in ribbons and awards. “Some sort of protégé who can’t hold his liquor and was a little too eager to tell me all about his most important assignments the second that I gave him a shy smile and the honor of a dance.”

That idiot? Dancing with you? A chill runs down his spin at the thought of that Nazi bastard with his hands on your waist.

“I’ve been trying to slip away for the last half hour, but every time that I start for the door, he comes back around to offer me another dance.”

Nixon offers a woman passing by a pleasing smile, and laughs like you’ve just said something funny before whispering, “Do you think you’ve been compromised?”

“No. I just think that the slimy little lizard isn’t too eager to let a real life woman who laughed at his jokes slip away.”

“Well, we’ll see how confident he is when he realizes that there are other men here who are far better dancers.” He offers you a bow and then extends his hand to you. “Shall we, Fräulein?”

In all the time that he’s known you, and after all your training, he’s never seen you break character before. But something about the way that your smile spreads across your face tells him that there’s a first time for everything.

You fit your gloved hand into his. “Wir sollten.”

The image of the young German officer’s face falling, looking completely crushed as he sees Nixon leading you onto the dance floor, will forever bring him a sense of satisfaction – especially when he storms out of the ballroom, followed by confused looks from all the older officers and party goers. Good, let him throw a tantrum over not getting his way. He wouldn’t deserve you in a hundred different lifetimes.

The music is just loud enough that no one can overhear you when you whisper your question from earlier as you dance, guarded by your close proximity. “What are you really doing here, Lewis?”

Lewis. Not Nixon. Not Nix. Lewis.

His name, yes, but you’ve only ever called him that a handful of times. Something about the way you say it stirs the feelings that took him so long to name.

“I couldn’t let you come here by yourself,” he whispers back. In any other situation, a look of annoyance at what that might imply would have crossed your face, but you don’t break character because of the people watching. “Not that you aren’t capable! Of course you are. You’re the most capable.”

“But you didn’t trust me enough?”

Fuck, he’s already made a mess of this whole thing. That’s what he gets for acknowledging his feelings instead of numbing them with Vat 69. He was never taught to articulate his emotions; Dick made it sound way too easy.

He fumbles for an explanation. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you coming into this alone. I mean, you wouldn’t have been alone, but without me, I mean.”

Smooth.

You raise an eyebrow. “But why?”

Is it his imagination, or standing so close, is your heartbeat stuttering the way that his is?

“Because I never want to leave your side,” he admits. “And I couldn’t handle it if something happened to you and I wasn’t here.”

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers. He’s sure that he’s said the wrong thing. Leave it to him to dig the hole even deeper.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

His face feels hot. Was the ballroom this warm when he arrived, or is the building suddenly on fire?

“I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m trying to make a confession.”

“But . . . you’re married.” Unfortunately, you’re right. “And there’s the war and the non-fraternization policy.” Double whammy. Still –

“I don’t care about any of that. I care about you.”

You hesitate, maybe for the first time in your entire life. There’s no denying that there’s something between the two of you. Acknowledging those feelings and acting on them though . . . that could be a bad idea. Because just like there’s no denying the mutual feelings you share, there’s also no ignoring the harsh facts that you’ve just pointed out.

“Dick is gonna kill us.”

Nixon laughs. “If Sink doesn’t beat him to it.”

Another mutual feeling bursts into bloom: anything could happen in this war, and it’s already taken so much from everyone – why not enjoy what you can while you can?

“People are watching us.” Around you, couples are beginning to pull apart as the song comes to a close. You and Nixon are still fit together, your right hand clasped in his left, his right hand on your waist.

“Someone is always watching us. Occupational hazard.” He smiles, half because he’s right – your job means that you’re always either watching someone or being watched – and half because you’re so beautiful and he’s so lucky to be dancing with you that he wonders who wouldn’t be watching. He’s so nervous that he wonders if he actually speaks aloud when he asks, “Do you want to give them a show?”

The words must make their way out, because he can hear your breath hitch in your throat. Then you smirk, just like you usually would at one of his ideas.

“Shut up and kiss me so that we can make a grand exit.”

He may outrank you, but he’s all too happy to comply with your order.

[bathsaltsmcgee]

The Potential Main Villain of Hazbin Hotel

Okay, so as I'm sure many people have already been made aware, the brand new teaser trailer for Hazbin Hotel just dropped yesterday and, like a great many people at the time, I was absolutely over the moon with glee.

After all that time waiting for it to appear, who wouldn't be, in that situation?

So, as I was watching the teaser and thoroughly enjoying myself, I noticed that there was a new character who appeared in the trailer that instantly set off all of my alarm bells.

Now, just so we're clear here, I love villains. I love to watch villains. I love to write villains. Stories need villains to function far more than they need their heroes, and a story without a good villain isn't much of a story at all.

Villains are what get stories started. Villains are who propel the narrative along, and villains are the only reasons the heroes get off their collective couches and retaliate to whatever it was that the villain just did. If there wasn't a villain, then why would the heroes need to be heroes?

Food for thought.

Furthermore, I've never been one for the 'Oh, let's redeem the villain and have them go through an arc where they learn valuable life lessons and become a better person' stories. Those characters, while valid in their own way, aren't true villains. Those are characters who made bad decisions and did questionable things that were not great. Mind you, I'm not saying they're good people, either. They're not. In fact, they can be downright awful, cruel, vicious, dangerous and antagonistic, but they aren't what I view to be true villains.

Villains, to put it bluntly, are not redeemable.

For instance, Sephiroth is not who I would view to be the true villain of FFVII.

Is he dangerous?

Yes.

Is he a threat?

Also, yes.

Is he an overwhelming antagonistic force that threatens to destroy everyone and everything in his path and has the power to bring about the end of creation?

Without question, yes, to all of that.

But is he the real villain of FFVII?

No.

Hojo is.

True villains are completely bereft of any sort of redeeming qualities at all. They're not the sort of character that can illicit pity from the audience. They just can't be felt sorry for. They are evil, depraved, monstrous, cruel, self-serving, conniving, often violent and manipulative, and there's no possible way to excuse what they do, for there's simply no excuse for it. That's not the point of a villain. Villains don't care about morality, nor have they ever. Villains do what they do because they want to do it, not because someone else is influencing their actions, or they had a sad backstory, or whatever. A villain does is whatever they want simply because they want to, and heaven help the person who tries to stop them or get in their way.

That's a villain.

Sure, they can be entertaining in a way, but at the end of the day, never let it be forgotten that they're soulless monsters who delight in using others and feeding off their misery, mainly because it fuels their primary personal motivation, and also because they can.

Think Professor Ratigan, or the Emperor from Star Wars, or the Other Mother from Coraline.

Fun to watch, but good Lord, what pieces of unholy garbage.

That's also why watered down antagonists don't really work as primary villains in a narrative. They can be antagonistic, sure, they can be horrible and cruel and awful and icky, but they can't be the main driving force of evil in a plot.

They're just not enough of an overarching threat.

When you have a villain in fiction, you better go all in and really ramp up the evil to eleven, and the more depraved they are, the more vile, and self-serving and twisted and manipulative and evil and amoral and petty, the stronger of a threat they'll pose.

Which then brings us back to the matter of Hazbin Hotel.

So, there was this one character in the teaser trailer who looked to be of an angelic persuasion who was smiling sweetly at something, but the reflection in her eyeballs suggested that she was delighting in watching something, presumably Hell, burn to the ground.

Charming woman, isn't she?

However, as I was looking at her, she starkly reminded me of a character that had been scrapped from the 'angels and demons' arc of the original zoophobia comic on which HH is based, who went by the name of Adina.

Adina was an angelic being who allowed her own twisted perception of how sin and morality functioned to corrupt her own judgment so much, she basically drove herself right off the deep end into crazy town. She became obsessed with purging all sinful beings of their sin, for that was the only way to properly 'purify' them of their tainted spirits, and, unfortunately for all of us, that pretty much included everybody who is, or has ever been, alive.

So, she's already veering into serious Judge Frollo territory right from the get go.

Additionally, her favorite pastime is torturing people that she views to be dirty and sinful, so as to 'purge' them of their demonic ways, and she does this by having them relive every single horrible thing they've ever done, all while telling them that 'there's no mercy for the damned'.

Seriously, there's art of her doing this to Angel Dust. I'm not kidding, go look it up.

So, while IMDB says this character's name is Sera, she's giving off serious Adina energy here, which does not bode well, and if she's anything like Adina, then the Hazbin crew are going to have far more problems to worry about than just a yearly genocide.

[cmchill]

numbers 1 and 28 for the ask game?

Sure, thanks for asking! (Had to go check which they were.)

28. on a scale from 1 to 10, how hard is it for someone to get under your skin?

I'm doing this one first cuz it's easy; I'd say probably about a 2 (not easy! C I'm chill haha).

1. if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

Ah, shoot, I asked for this 😂

There so many fandoms I've been part of, and so many pieces of media that have impacted me strongly! But to "really understand me"... Hmm...

Okay tbh while I'm agnostic now I grew up as a fairly progressive Christian, and I KNOW that still affects my worldview and stuff today probably more than any of the other myths and stories I've read.

I feel weird saying like "you should read/watch/listen to these things to understand me" because all the people who understand me best don't really know at least one of my big fiction things if not most.

I'll just write the ones that live most in my head

Brandon Sanderson's Cosmere books have been pret-ty freaking big for me these last couple years. They're REALLY well-written, complex and nuanced, and very real themes mixed into the epic fantasy stakes.

I freaking LOVE Star Wars, especially the books and additional content and stuff. It's an incredible universe people have made. And, MY Luke (EU/Legends Luke NOT Disney Luke) is absolute most blorbo. This franchise is not objectively of fabulous overall quality, but it is my love

Wings of Fire. Those dragons live forever in my head. The courage and optimism and COMPASSION, the belief in a better world, the way you the reader get to learn to SEE them as they also learn to SEE each other and live and work together. It's not as complex or deep a narrative as many others I've read, it's targeted at elementary to middle school which is when I first read it, but those characters still to this day help me think of how I want to be.

But really there are so many places I've learned from, so many stories of hope and despair, of pain and triumph and love and fighting and clawing and chasing what matters and tearing things down and building things better and learning to try despite it all, and to see so many different kinds of people. Idk y'all.

Ooooo also I'm reading Jean-Paul Sarte's Being and Nothingness right now, and that is also having a serious effect on me! Like I am integrating a lot of these ideas into how I process the world sometimes. Anyway

[silverlininghills]

answering the question "are clancy and tyler the same person?" once and for all

SO.

clancy.

one of the biggest narrative sticking points for both the fandom at large as well as me specifically has been the question of whether tyler and clancy are the same person. many people point to clancy's letter description of the events of the jumpsuit music video as proof that they're not, while others point to the reference to the "out of body account of the rider in the river" as proof that they are. it definitely felt like a contradiction to me when i was first diving into the lore last year. and while i understood that this narrative was a) being told in a very non-traditional manner and b) extremely fluid and almost dreamlike in its overall structure, that contradiction still bothered me.

and then i had an epiphany: clancy wasn't tyler, and now he is. it's simple, really.

let me explain:

the theory that i had initially come up with to try to explain the discrepancy, at least to myself, was that clancy was tyler's avatar within the narrative (basically his self-insert). he was the "jumpsuit" that tyler covered himself with in order to exist in this fictional world. so while he may exist independently of clancy (such as in the trench trilogy), he also existed as clancy when needed (such as during the events of the SAI livestream and music videos). the distinction between the two still felt weirdly uhhh consistently inconsistent to me, but i figured either we were missing a piece or that that was just how the narrative was meant to feel.

but then!! yesterday!! i was doing research for the aforementioned blurryface = clancy theory, and i stumbled upon an interview with andrew donoho, who directed all the "lore" music videos for the band. i have no idea how like, well known this interview is amongst the fandom, but I've yet to see anyone refer to it when discussing the "is clancy tyler" conundrum, despite the fact that it includes some VERY interesting bits:

"The daunting part was, they built this entire world--everything from Clancy to Tyler's role, to the band's role, to different pieces of TRENCH, all this stuff--and I had to find a way to bite off a nine-minute piece of that.

"...imagine reading Lord of the Rings and they say, 'Okay, so don't make anything that's in the novels, but make something in this world, and it can only be nine minutes and it has to be profound and show everything and have every single tie into the the allegory and the metaphor of the album.' Like, great."

to me, this pretty conclusively confirms that the events of the trench trilogy were not meant to be clancy, but instead either a) tyler himself or b) yet another dema inhabitant who was just played by tyler.

to drive that point home even further, andrew goes on to describe the actual creation process for dmaorg:

The Clancy story was something really fun. The first meeting with everybody we were talking about like how we would market TRENCH and if there was a way to open up the world to the super-fans that wanted to know more with a story that wasn't Tyler’s story. Because, again, they built this world that was so rich.

welp. there it is. a story that wasn't Tyler's story. Clancy was intended to be just another inhabitant of Dema whose story would be told, not through the album, but purely through the posts on dmaorg.

there's also this quote from tyler the first time he was asked about clancy in an interview:

Clancy's uh... I've heard about him. But I don't-- I don't-- I know we're from the same place.

"heard about" but not met. all he knows is that they're from the same place (dema).

so that settles it then, right? Clancy ≠ Tyler. so glad we could clear that up!

...not quite.

because here's the thing. this is not tyler and josh's story. twenty one pilots is not tyler and josh's band.

it's ours. and so is this story.

don't just take my word for it, either:

TJ: This record is… They really did help write it. This thing wouldn't be breathing without them. They helped create this world, as well.

TJ: They are also building the world, like I said. We’re very… Not to come off as on that stalker level, but I do watch them. […]what does that fan that really understands and has tracked with me up until this point -- how is this hitting them? And the story builds from there, man.

TJ: Once the fans got a hold of it and started to digest it it even brought it more to life you know? Watching the story come to life. So I'm excited to dive back into it at some point.

now, here's where i came up short: i swear i read or listened to an interview where tyler specifically talks about making changes to the story based on fan interpretations/ideas, but i cannot for the life of me find it now. if anyone remembers when or where (or if!) he said that and has a link, it would be immensely appreciated. but regardless, it's safe to say that we are all active participants in the creation of this story.

and what is something that we consistently speculated about, pretty much right from the moment we met clancy?

that he and tyler were the same person.

now, note the timeline here: they had probably already created at least the first couple clancy letters by the time dmaorg went live + was found by fans; same with the original trilogy of music videos (donoho specifically mentioned working on the treatments while dmaorg was being updated--and mentioned not being told about the updates ahead of time!). the last letter went live july 18th, exactly one week after the release of the jumpsuit music video, and tbh it sounds like the end of clancy's story, especially based on the narrative arc of both the trilogy and the album as a whole. clancy has left dema, is both frightened and enthralled by trench, and wonders both where he's going and whether leaving in the first place might’ve been a mistake. i fully believe this was intended to be the end of clancy's story.

but again. tyler and his team aren't the only ones telling it.

so what happened after that post? well, the album was released, tyler and josh rejoined social media, they did a bunch of fan press conferences, and then they toured a bunch.

and what did the clique do? well, they created. i wasn't around during that time, but i've seen enough clique art and meta and musings to get an idea of what the reaction was. it was clear that a) people were FASCINATED by trench and dema and all the rest of it and also b) that people LOVED clancy. they speculated about his history, his future, his connection to tyler, his place in the overall narrative.

they brought him to life.

and so clancy lived. the next dmaorg update coincided with the chlorine music video and revealed that he had been "returned" to dema by keons. bleak and ambiguous as the letter may have been, it was proof that clancy's story wasn't over just yet.

tantalizingly, tyler also revealed in an interview in march 2019 (so after clancy's "resurrection" but obviously before the world imploded and their plans got waylaid) that the next album would feature “a character that hasn’t been talked about on any record yet that plays a huge role in the narrative". was this clancy, who tyler had already confirmed "wasn't on [trench]"? or was this someone completely new?

welp, who knows because almost exactly one year later covid happened and everything got thrown out the window.

...except then the LOC ARG happens and the clique finds an encoded message on tyler's TV that says Clancy Is Dead, and then the name of the next album + accompanying Feature Performance Event is released and it turns out to be an anagram which also states that Clancy Is Dead.

so was he?

well, the clique had learned a couple other things by that point, such as:

1) SAI is propaganda

2) the views and opinions expressed on [Scaled and Icy] are those of the Sacred Municipality of Dema

and of course,

3) we don't believe what's on TV

so like. yeah. "clancy is dead". sure he is. whatever the truth may be, at least the fans knew not to take anything coming from the band at that point at face value.

as far as the SAI era goes, i think the most important thing to note is that, while writing the album, tyler himself didn’t even know if it would be a continuation of the narrative or not:

TJ: So the question is, with shows off the table for the time being, does this mean we should hit pause on this narrative? Or do we somehow try to weave it into the narrative, which is not totally the intention? I’m not really sure which direction we’re gonna go yet. 

personally, i suspect they were leaning more towards the “not” side of things. the livestream definitely takes place within the world of dema, but it’s not really a continuation of the story so much as a technicolour fever dream (appropriate for the height of a viral pandemic i guess lol). once again, like dmaorg, i believe tyler expected this album to be an accompaniment to the lore, but not itself part of the story. 

i have a whole, like, interpretation and breakdown of the “story” of the livestream that i am not gonna get into here bc this thing is already a beast, but suffice it to say that the livestream reads a lot more like an in-universe retelling of tyler’s story than anything else. does it heavily feature imagery and themes from the lore? yeah, of course. but it exists in this weird wonderland-esque dreamspace anyway, so that makes sense to me. 

anyway. yeah. livestream as originally intended = not part of the dema/trench storyline.

and yet. you know the clique and their tendency to take the things the band gives them and run with them. i definitely have seen lots of speculation regarding whether tyler is tyler in the livestream or clancy, and i can’t say that i blame people for wondering! again, the ambiguous nature of the narrative lends itself to multiple interpretations. do i think it was intended that way at first? nah. but once again, the clique made the story their own, and tyler had no choice but to try to keep up.

the next time we hear from clancy isn’t until almost a full year after the livestream–well, okay, we get another lil “clancy is dead” easter egg in the saturday music video, but that’s nothing we haven’t heard before (nice try though tyler). what really fascinates me is the almost complete 180 in terms of tone and narrative structure between the first two music videos + livestream—all of which were created before the fans had been introduced to the new era—and the saturday + the outside mvs, which would’ve been created after. in my opinion, that’s where we once again see the clique’s influence at work. suddenly the narrative is not only back but barreling forward. the SAI era is no longer a diversion but a true continuation.

with that return to form comes clancy’s first letter in over three years, and wouldn’t’cha know it, it perfectly describes the events of the livestream AND the saturday music video, thereby confirming that clancy is tyler after all! mystery solved! thank you for coming to my—

—except, wait. the evidence so clearly pointed to clancy not being tyler before. tyler himself even said so! what gives? was tyler lying then? is clancy lying now? is there some secret third option that no one has considered yet?

…well, yeah. there kind of is. the third option is that both have been and still are true, because as the story hasn’t just progressed, it’s changed. changed because it stopped existing just inside tyler’s head, or in the 60 page trench bible; it started existing out here, with us. it changed because we changed it. we reached our collective hands into the narrative and pulled our blorbo from the brink of oblivion and shoved him right back into the narrative where he belongs. when you really think about it, that makes us the ghost in the machine. the implications of that idea alone make my head spin.

anyway, we get one more letter from clancy the very next day to coincide with the release of the outside’s music video. in it, he contemplates the new psychokinetic power he’s received, how familiar it feels, and he begins to understand. he may be referring to the bishops and vialism, but as always, the narrative trappings of this world are merely a reflection of ours. because yes, you can look at it as clancy gaining the ability to possess “available vessels” using the antlers of a magical creature. but you can also look at it as the moment when tyler officially became clancy in the narrative using the power of creativity and imagination (and, of course, a little help from some friends), and in so doing, gained the power to maybe, finally, turn the tide in this seemingly endless internal war. after all, as the caption on this instagram post says:

this is a story about cycles, and trying to break them. about discerning between external and internal attacks. and about balance. a balance between being saved by a friend, and saving yourself.

in summary: i truly don’t believe clancy and tyler were ever intended to be the same person. what he was meant to be (a facet of tyler, a representative of the clique, or someone/something else entirely), i’m not sure, though of course i have my theories. honestly, i don’t believe clancy was meant to exist beyond the handful of letters we got from him in 2018. i believe the only reason he endured is because we willed him to. and now, as we head into the endgame of this incredible story we’ve all been creating together, this character (who was destined to die by his creator but was saved by his fans) has become perhaps the most important player on the board. and personally? i can’t wait to see what he becomes next.

[macbethsymphony]

Okay, so ever since I made little avatars of myself, I've been using them to compare my height to my fictional husbands while writing. You know, just to help visualize the height difference because ONE PIECE, right?

But, um... I'm writing Doflamingo right now, and I knew the height difference would be pretty funny, but like, I'm barely at dick-sucking level! I'd have to be on my tippy toes to ahem... omfg, and the HAND SIZE... I can't even write. Not even able to think straight. My mind is spiraling HARD into ✨EXTREMELY UNHOLY TERRITORY✨

Reference image I’m talking about under the cut.

For reference I’m like 5’3… I’d just be a cute little toy for this man

* I really need to make myself a pink feather coat to match my skirt

[whetstonefires]

💖🎶🛒

For the fanfic ask meme :3

💖 What made you start writing?

I...okay so there's a dumb literal answer to this I'm going to give first. My sixth grade English class was a two-semester-long creative writing seminar, where we were honestly taught almost nothing; the teacher just. Made us write things. Whatever things. For months.

She was incredibly patient with our baby shit, looking back, although when two of her students started writing execrable sixth grade poetry she set us on each other so we could get feedback without her, and managed not to make it obvious she was trying to escape the horror of sing-song childish scansion and the way kids that age take themselves horribly seriously and you have to not laugh.

Her name was Keely and I owe her, because up to that point I had refused to write my ideas down because if I slowed down enough to get a sentence written out I'd have forgotten all the bits that came after and the story was now dead and stupid and it was the worst, so writing was clearly not for me.

(I couldn't really type at this point, and didn't have reliable computer access anyway, and I'm left-handed, which makes writing longhand slightly slower and more difficult no matter what you do. Also you just don't write fast when you're ten.)

But Keely made me, for months, and it turned out this was a skillset I'd just had to work to acquire, and then I could do it and it wasn't a miserable soul-killing process after all. That's the first time I remember learning that lesson in life, and it's such a useful one. (Technically I went through a similar process with reading several years earlier, but that was partly because some very bad pedagogy put me off it at first, so it was less enlightening.)

Less prosaically, I got stuck on writing because I was a voracious reader and I kept thinking up stories, and writing them down was rewarding.

I find it's a great craft because you can get in all kinds of practice without actually doing it; you can string and edit sentences in your head when you have nothing to do or while doing something boring, and critique fiction you're exposed to, and try to understand literally anything you experience, and it's all applicable. As someone who gets frustrated with 1) materials consumed 2) skill plateaus and 3) having a Thing around after having made it, writing in the era of the word processor and cheap data storage is ideal, because it's both easier to keep my skills growing and harder to notice when they aren't than with most creative outlets, because I can store all the millions of words I've written in an object the size of my thumbnail, and because it's not supposed to do anything useful in the first place. If it does that's a happy bonus but if it doesn't I don't have to feel bad.

Fic is nice because it's got an audience to share the Things with, which makes it even better. And because you get to start at around the complexity level of a third or even fourth draft, skipping a lot of grunt work that I think is honestly overvalued--not that it's not valuable or important skill to have, especially if you want to be a novelist, but also there's a reason people on the whole mostly tell familiar stories over again, but better. The first go will suck in basically any medium. Insisting on starting there every time can lead to subtler skills getting underdeveloped.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

Occasionally? Most of the time it would just be a distraction I'd have to work through, setting myself up for sensory overload and maybe a migraine.

But when I do it often is a single song on a loop, because the point is that I'm keeping myself suspended in a particular vibe as I pursue a specific scene or character relationship or something. Hasn't happened recently, but I should maybe pull that trick out and see if it helps with any of my stuck pieces.

I seem to recall writing something once to about 19 iterations of Dessa's 'The Lamb?' Oh and several passages of Angels Still Have Faces were written to the Sonata Arctica song I took the title from; it helped me get Angeal to the right state of repressed extreme melodrama.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

Um. Food? Definitely food, between my strong opinions about subsistence informing social priorities and my personal sense that meals are both a major part of the daily pattern of life and very grounding in a place and body, I come back to it endlessly. 'Two people in a room (or other defined space granting privacy) trying so so hard to communicate' is, you know, pretty common motif but I go embarrassingly hard on it.

I'm a sucker for certain flavors of angst, and for when someone is very hopeless and then someone else gives them support. I think maybe people breaking down and asking for help and then actually getting it? And just how gross and messy it feels to be miserable and how much of it happens in the body.

What else? I feel like a third party would be better able to call me out on my patterns. A lot of them after all are the patterns of my thoughts, to a sufficient extent that I experience the universe in those terms by default and that's why it keeps being there.

When I describe hugs I tend to be very precise about where everyone's arms are because I feel like that's important. I try to be specific about features of nature like the species of a bird or tree or whatever, unless the pov character wouldn't notice such a thing, and even then I often know for the sake of precision. Lots of hand gestures, and putting of one's hands on pieces of scenery and so forth, that's my theater background coming through mostly. A tendency to emphasize the kinetic relationship between objects perhaps a bit more than usual.

If I'm describing a character that has an existing visual form, I drill in on the most distinctive details I can find; this is probably by way of mild face-blindness meaning I care a great deal about whether someone has a crooked eyebrow or distinctive dimpling or something, because I'm not going to learn their face fast enough to get away with not being able to id them and call them by name until then. It usually takes months.

Diana Wynne Jones advised making sure your mental image when you describe something, especially a place, is as precise as possible, so you won't decline into abstraction, and I've found following this advice to reliably net good results. If you only know about the things you actually mention, things get flat real fast.

(The trick then is not getting bogged down in deciding which things to mention.)

I dunno, what would you guys say are my signature moves?

[nerdby]

Just need to say this thing I've been keeping to myself: Judging people for the media they consume is the worst type of hypocritical pearlclutching that leftist extremists are guilty of.

ALL MEDIA IS PROBLEMATIC.

Unless someone is knowingly supporting whyte supremacists or pedophiles or something with the media they are consuming then shut the hell up. If people are on social media going off about how amazing cops are because of Law & Order or are actively fearmongering hateful bullshit cause they just watched Silence Of The Lambs for the first time or whatever then go ahead and say something.

But if someone is just saying shit like, "Oh, that was a great episode of CSI," or whatever then just shut the fuck up. People don't need to be fucking lectured and preached at twenty-four-fucking-seven. Especially cause most of the people watching shows like CSI are adults who are able to discern fact from fiction.

We know that 99.9% of cops are pure fucking evil.

We know that serial killers aren't good people.

We know that domestic violence isn't cute and romantic.

We know all of these things are true in real life, but luckily most media is FICTIONAL -- it's not fucking real. And yes while all media is political the media one consumes is not necessarily a reflection of their political leanings. Especially if the creator of the media in question is already DEAD!

Do you think everyone who owns a copy of Alice In Wonderland is a pedophile?

And if so, how can you NOT realize how batshit paranoid that is?!

People keeping going on and on about how there's no counterculture in the US, and I cannot believe I am saying this but it really is because people are too easily offended. Because once a piece of media gets labeled "problematic" anyone who enjoys said media is automatically pure fucking evil. Because pearlclutchers exist on BOTH sides of the political spectrum.

Like people hate Colleen Hoover because she writes toxic romance, but how many of them actually know Colleen Hoover? How many of the people criticizing her have ever even met or spoken with her? Cause writing toxic romance stories can be cathartic and therapeutic. It can help process trauma or let us confront our fears in a safe environment where we aren't in any danger.

By declaring things as inane as a romance novel problematic and therefore evil YOU are actively contributing to the erasure of counterculture in the US. Because counterculture is all about being an edgy McPunkRock emo edgelord -- that's sarcasm by the way. Because really counterculture is about enjoying the TABOO -- like banned books. Those are taboo and things like true crime, horror movies, toxic romance, and even things like the Civil Rights movement have also been historically considered taboo.

Because the taboo is anything that upsets the mainstream society -- anything that makes the suburban whyte Xstrians uncomfortable is taboo.

That is the entire point of the phrase ART DOES NOT EXIST TO COMFORT YOU. The phrase is directed at the whyte suburban Xstrians.

THATS WHY RIGHTWINGERS HATE THE ARTS FFS🤬

But we aren't allowed to enjoy the taboo anymore cause now everything is triggering or problematic. Everyone needs fucking spoilers for everything now whether we want them or not because everything is just SO shocking and SO traumatizing. For two fucking years, we had to listen to fangirls cry about Peter Parker getting turned to dust in Infinity War.

TWO FUCKING YEARS!!!!

If seeing a fictional character get harmed upsets you that fucking much then you should probably be in therapy, okay? Like if you're having an emotional breakdown from reading a Colleen fucking Hoover novel then you need therapy. Cause there is something else going on there. And that's not a bad thing.

Needing therapy is a neutral thing. Like obviously its something we'd all probably rather avoid, but realistically it's probably something we could ALL benefit from in the long term. Like everyone needs therapy. We're all fucked up, okay?

So just stop it.

Unless someone is using a movie or book or whatever as justification to be a racist, queerphobic eugenicist assholes just fucking stop it. Unless they are supporting LIVING people who are actively going out of their way to inflict harm on marginalized communities -- people like JK ROWLING -- then just shut up. Just let people fucking live and enjoy things.

Stop projecting your triggers and insecurities onto everyone else. Stop fucking shitting on people cause they like true crime or Law & Order or anime or whatever. Because you -- yes, even the noble leftists fighting for Civil Rights -- are really just acting like a pretentious, judgemental white fucking knight pearlclutcher and you're erasing counterculture.

And that is EXACTLY what the right wants.