#It does TOO sequitur so there

[quidcumque]

When I say I hyperfocused the fuck out of task management systems today I hyperfocused the

FUCK

out of task management systems today

[mawinswag]

DIGITAL CIRCUS JAX THEORY

MASSIVE SPOILERS OBVIOUSLY BUT HERE WE GO!!!

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So, as many have pointed out already, there’s a scene at the end of episode 2 [22:23] where after Caine kills gummigoo and sends him back to the canyon, that he fears he can’t know for certain who’s a human and who’s an NPC. So foreshadowing, reference to past events or wacky non-sequitur? Maybe none of them, but the possibility that one of the circus members is actually an NPC is obviously too tantalizing for me to pass up, and given events AFTER this scene I think it can only be Jax, and I’ve got a few pieces of evidence why.

The main crux of this whole thing is that Jax IS an NPC, but he’s the only one in the circus who KNOWS that and is absolutely desperate to make sure that no one finds that out.

Episode one! Small note to start out on, but literally the first thing we learn about Jax, the VERY FIRST thing he has to ask is if Pomni is an NPC or not. Narratively, he’s the person who introduces the CONCEPT of NPCs into this universe, not Ragatha - who tries to break in Pomni the most - or Kinger who seems the most knowledgeable about the circus as a concept. He’s also very intrigued at the concept of a new AI in episode 2 [02:49} Like, the fact that she popped up in the circus unexpectedly doesn’t tip him off that she’s a human character immediately. Which may be how HE was able to trick everyone into thinking he was a human instead of an NPC - possibly by sneaking back through a portal like Gummigoo did and hiding until the start of the next adventure. 

He DOES mention knowing about the headsets like the other human characters, but there’s no reason he CAN’T know about that considering he’s not the latest person to enter the circus. Like, we have a GENERAL idea of who entered first, but that’s just the characters who are still around for the pilot - there’s a lot more considering how many bedroom doors there are. https://shorturl.at/asESX 

So, generally, it’s Kinger, Ragatha, Jax/Gangle, Zooble, then Pomni. Now, how can I argue that Jax is an NPC when he has a canonical age? Not to mention, he’s got a canonical ‘appearance moment.’ Well, there are a few options. Option one is that - NPC or not - Jax HAS been here for a very long time, but rather than being a human, he was born inside the circus. He has a definite, APPEARANCE moment, but it's only implied that this is because of him ENTERING the circus proper - new NPCs appear in the big top all the time, i.e. the gloinks all the mannequins, etc. 

But also, take those ages with a pinch of salt, considering a lot of it was about quelling shipping wars and stopping any discourse about characters being adults and all that lovely hellish nightmare stuff. I think goose had an idea in her head about which characters entered the circus FIRST for sure, but how much they’ve aged and WHETHER they’ve aged is its own question.

ALRIGHT! But enough about Tumblr asks, back to the pilot, I wanna note something that happens with Jax in particular more than any other performer in the circus. He’s the most apparent of the interstitial nature of the circus itself - and the most meta. This can range from him basically winking at the camera like in the pilot [8:37] but I think it’s a bit more than that. Jax in particular is more aware of being a CHARACTER in-universe than specifically being a character in an indie animated series.

After this moment in the pilot [19:58] where Jax says ‘ladies first’ to Gangle as if to be polite before promptly following that up with “no, wait, why would I say that,” indicates a few things to me. Jax is at the very least aware that he’s supposed to act a certain way, and realizes when he’s acting out of ‘character’ in this scene and course-corrects promptly. Again, could be a funny meta reference, but also it could be a hanging notion of the fact he literally WAS a character in-universe, an NPC with a pre-programmed personality and understanding of the world. He’s got this rigid understanding of how the characters are SUPPOSED to act and this comes up again in episode two when goading Gangle into driving the tanker over the rocks - saying she’s SUPPOSED to be ‘submissive and agreeable,’ [Episode 2, 7:24]. This sort of disconnect from how complicated people can be and his overall detachment and overstepping of peoples lives [NPC or otherwise] comes up a lot. He doesn’t really ‘get’ other people, WHICH DOESN’T AUTOMATICALLY MAKE A PERSON EVIL, I SHOULD PREFACE, and him not getting it doesn’t automatically make him more ‘robotic’ and thus an AI, but it does explain why he’s more emotionally distant than the other performers. Coming from someone who could’ve been programmed to behave a certain way, his confusion makes sense.

Now for that juicy stuff! One of the few moments where Jax isn’t in control of a situation is in the pilot, where he’s trying desperately to hide from an abstracted Kaufmo. Now yes, obviously this is a sign of his own instincts of self-preservation, but what interests me is how he seems the MOST bothered by the thought of Kaufmo than any other character. Like at [17:27] of the pilot where he sees a glitched gloink and immediately his eyes start darting around him as if he’s listening for threats. He even explicitly says at [19:19] that he’s “just here to hide from [Kaufmo]” and isn’t invested in the adventure at all. And yes it's a very interesting character moment, but how does it push us closer to him being an NPC. Well, it’s because he’s afraid of dying. When you compare how he reacts to Kaufmo to how RAGATHA reacts to him, there’s a comparative lack of fear with her. Like yeah, she’s scared of him, but she’s never convinced that she’s gonna die and even tells Pomni later that Caine will be able to fix her up no problem [14:52]. She’s scared because she CAN feel pain, [https://tinyurl.com/ye275884] but she can’t die, none of the performers can, Caine doesn’t kill Kaufmo when he abstracts, he just throws him in the cellar with the others. His mind is GONE, sure, but it’s not dead. 

NPCs on the other hand, can ABSOLUTELY DIE. So if Jax is an NPC, then there’s a very good reason why he wouldn’t wanna even get CLOSE to Kaufmo in the pilot, because he’s not as durable as Ragatha is and there’s not gonna be an easy fix for him if he gets hurt.

Now, episode two has little sprinkles of Jaxs’ detachment all over it, but none of it explicitly points in the direction of him being an NPC until a partway through the episode. We do get a lot of him showing absolutely no value for the lives of those around him whether than being putting Gangle and Pomni thru the ringer or setting the people of Candy Canyon Kingdom up to be killed by the fudge, but the question is…why? 

My answer is; he’s AM from ‘I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream.’ Uhmm, what? Yup that’s right. Ok so it’s no secret that IHNMAIMS was a big inspiration for TADC [https://shorturl.at/hnsFV] and while Caine obviously got the most of this influence with him being a godlike AI who only has control over a bunch of sad, sappy humans, some of which he throws into a giant abominable melting goop monster of human suffering, but if you look at Caine's inspirations [AM from IHNMAIMS] you’ll find that the same motivations more than drive Jax under this theories' interpretation of events. Simply put, AM, a war machine, gains sentience and absolutely despises humanity because DESPITE that sentience, he is absolutely powerless to do anything meaningful with it except torture a group of humans. He’s painfully aware of his own sentience and hates all humanity for creating him, is the gist.

My interpretation is that while Caine has the thematics, Jax has the motivation. In this theory, at some point Jax was an NPC and gained a sentience of his own either through a quirk of programming, intentional design, or AI learning. He realizes that he can keep himself alive if he pretends to be a performer, because he learns that Caine can’t affect the minds or actions of the real humans in his realm. He’s sapient, but he’s in this uncomfortable position where he’s not immortal like the performers, but completely aware of his own mortality unlike the other NPCs, and fully cognizant of the fact he can’t be brought back as he is. Yeah…that’d make someone bitter for sure.

So he psychologically torments the other performers because he knows they can’t die, but can go insane - while killing indiscriminately any NPCs he can because he knows they can die, and he won’t face any consequences for it. He’s this twisted death spiral of a being who finds his own existence an agonizing paradox and takes that pain out on the people around him for all eternity basically - finding disappointment in being unable to act out these pent-up emotions [TADC ep 2: 20:50] and seeing Kaufmo’s funeral as a painful reminder of an ending he can never have. Or maybe he’s bitter because he knows Kaufmo isn’t really dead in a way that HE can die, and finds personal distaste with the funeral on principle. Frankly, there’s a whole HOST of ways you could interpret this scene at the end of episode two with this framework, and I encourage y’all to find your own!!!!

[communistkenobi]

Obviously art does not rest on methods, media, or the amount of effort a person exerted in making it, but I think AI art is yet another way that capitalism is changing the form and function of art (separating artworks from their original meaning on a different and even larger scale) and given that it is made by exploiting workers (the original artists and the people they pay pennies to sort through it to remove disturbing images) it makes people feel yet more powerless in the face of corporations so there is a big negative reaction to it. This negative reaction may not be articulated in the way you want but I think it's very understandable that people have reactionary feelings about large scale corporate exploitation.

just for the record before I respond, I am replying to this ask in good faith just as you are asking in good faith, I’m not angry at you and many of these questions I’m asking are rhetorical, for the purposes of reflection. So please no slapfighting in the notes, thank you!

First: I’m not disputing exploitation. in fact privileging AI as uniquely exploitative handwaves away the massive amount of exploitation that artists already endure and have endured for a very long time, as well as the horrific amounts of labour exploitation involved in mass producing the ‘tools of the trade’ so to speak.

But this is, again, a non-sequitur to my argument, which is that art produced under exploitative, destructive, “lazy” or politically repugnant conditions is still art. MCU films are art regardless of the fact that they are 3-hour long informercials for the American empire and require massive labour exploitation from CGI animators, actors, film set workers, and everything else: advertisements are art: AI art is art. Horrifying, trite, unoriginal, bad, socially destructive, maybe all of those things are true and we can talk about the merits of those claims (I certainly have strong opinions about them), but what is politically gained from saying bad, unoriginal, horrifying, or trite art isn’t art? Whose definitions are we using here, and if those definitions should be universalised, what does it mean for artists who are only unoriginal, only bad, only whatever else?

I return to my original example: are children not qualified to be artists if they only make “bad” art? I used to trace movie stills from Harry Potter photo books as a child because I loved the characters - am I a fraud for doing so? Am I given grace for my incompetence and “theft” on the basis of me “still learning how to do real art”? When does this grace period end? If we argue that only struggle can produce art, what level of struggle? Struggle for whom? Drawing isn’t difficult for me because I was taught how to hold a pencil, read, write, and draw by a western industrial publicly-funded primary school by a teacher paid with public tax dollars, supplemented with help every night from my mother and father, two married cishet middle class people in a mostly stable (if miserable and verbally abusive) marriage - all of which is resting atop stolen indigenous land. Under what historical conditions can arguments for artistic struggle be made? When we argue for struggle(/hard work/whatever) as the basis of art we are pre-supposing a universal subject whose struggle is globally standardized and calculable - which in all of these discussions on here is (implicitly, though sometimes explicitly) a white able-bodied settler living in a western state who benefits from universal primary education that teaches them the foundational skills of how to make art. You can probably add university educated to that too, given how many of these arguments seem to be swarmed by undergraduate students.

Arguing that there needs to be some threshold for method, labour, intent, or message for art to ‘actually be art’ is politically reactionary and is what I am responding to. It requires transcendental claims about the Artist as a unique labourer set apart from and superior to all others, one whose skills are universalised and whose intent is always observable and present in their work. So if people want to talk about exploitation they should talk about exploitation, not the definition of art. It’s not my fault people can’t stay on topic!

[yuesya]

The sky is dark.

Even during daytime, the sky is dark, almost as if it were evening. A perpetual twilight. It’s a sight that is very much unnatural, yet there’s very little that is natural about the world nowadays. Not since the day when a horde of cursed spirits suddenly manifested in the heart of New Shinjuku with no warning whatsoever, promptly plunging the freshly-rebuilt city into chaos. And almost as if it had been a signal of sorts, similar incidents had swiftly spread across the globe in the days that followed.

Armageddon, some called it. The End of the World. As the catastrophe progressed, the environment itself changed as well in reflection of the disaster ravaging the now-hostile, dangerous world.

“So this is where you’re hiding, huh?”

Shiki turns around and cranes her head to look upwards. “… Satoru-niichan?”

Her cousin pats her on the head, and plops down on the stone ledge next to her with a gusty sigh. “Needed a break?”

Shiki doesn’t respond to that, instead drawing her legs closer to herself and burying her face into her knees. She receives another headpat from her cousin.

“I get it,” he says. “It’s a lot. Sorcerers aren’t really supposed to do much aside from just killing cursed spirits, but look at us now –shining paragons and defenders of the last, greatest bastions of humanity. What a joke, right? Like, what do I know about running cities or maintaining infrastructure or resource allocation?”

“People are grasping at straws,” Shiki says quietly. Between the two of them… it’s definitely Satoru-niichan who bears the heavier burden. But even so, despite all the responsibilities that he’s laden with, he still does his best to look out for her in moments like these.

The knowledge lights a spark of warmth inside her chest.

“Yeah, they most definitely are,” Satoru-niichan sighs. “And sorcerers happen to look like they have the longest straws, no thanks to the entire mess back in ‘18.”

“… Geto-san’s Cursed Spirit Manipulation would’ve been nice to have right now,” Shiki props up her chin with a hand. Considering that the entire world was overrun with cursed spirits, his cursed technique would’ve been an excellent counter.

He might even be the new ‘Strongest.’

… Although, if Geto-san were still alive, he probably would’ve set off to make his own stronghold, one that strictly, specifically only protected sorcerers.

Shiki sighs.

“Oh, and you know what else would be nice to have? A good bowl of cream anmitsu.”

The girl blinks in surprise at the sudden non-sequitur, and gives her cousin a side-eye.

“What? I thought we were indulging in a bout of wishful thinking here,” the young man sticks his tongue out at her. Food is growing scarce; most fruits are dried or preserved –and that’s to say nothing of how ice cream and such frozen desserts of the like are a luxury rarely seen anymore. Sugar is rationed and restricted, as is salt. “Although I’d take konpeito, too.”

Konpeito would definitely be easier to obtain than something outrageous like cream anmitsu, especially the specific type that Satoru-niichan had once been so fond of.

“Hmm… I think I’ll try to get my hands on some konpeito once we get back to the Tokyo base,” Satoru-niichan decides. Then, with a teasing grin directed towards her, “I might even share some with you if you ask me nicely!”

Shiki rolls her eyes, “I don’t like sweets.”

“You don’t like sweets? Still?” Her cousin shakes his head, “Ehh… you’re really missing out, cute little cousin of mine.”

“Pass.”

“See?! I think you could definitely use a bit of sweetness to lighten up that doom and gloom,” Satoru-niichan informs her, and stretches. “… Man, there’s nothing like an apocalypse to make you realize that so many good foods out there can disappear forever just like that. Once this is all over and everything is on the proper road to recovery, I think I’ll go on a world tour and try out allll the local delicacies I can find.”

“… You mean all the local sweets?” Shiki says dryly.

“Ha! Are you sassing me?” Satoru-niichan sits up straight and laughs, delighted. “See if I bring you along for my future gourmet adventures, then!”

Shiki dips her head and bites back a small smile.

… 

The sky is still dark and dreary. But somehow, by the time that Shiki returns to the encampment with her cousin, things still seem to be a bit brighter than they previously were before.

[toriangeli]

Re: Daniel's flashback of Armand

I know our minds jumped to the "Armand is Alice" theory. At least, mine did. But that explains nothing about why Daniel thinks of that specific memory. It seems like such a non-sequitur, him remembering a story about selling his dad's dirty magazines in middle school. What's also weird is Armand telling him about it.

We know the original interview was traumatic for Daniel, so I have two theories:

Armand is trying to calm Daniel down from some kind of panic by using grounding techniques. This would be weird because grounding techniques are usually a lot more physical, involving the senses to bring one back to the present reality. Why this would be relevant to his proposal memories, I'm not sure.

Armand has Daniel in a state of hypnosis and is implanting a memory. Why is he implanting a memory about selling dirty magazines? No clue. It doesn't seem like it serves a purpose--unless it's part of a larger narrative.

My usual problem with the "Armand is lying about everything" assumption is that Armand and vampires in general in the books don't do that much lying. Like, they'll do these short-term deceptions (see the second half of Blood Communion), but big ongoing lies are kind of a shit idea when you're immortal because you have to keep up with the lie forever. Armand does lie to Louis about Lestat being dead, and to Lestat about Louis being dead, but other than that, he doesn't do a lot of deliberate misrepresentation of the facts. Self-delusions, denial, hiding shit, but not straight-up lies. This same issue applies to the idea that Armand has been creating false memories for people willy-nilly. Which, I don't think I've seen anyone claim he is doing it willy-nilly, but one can get the impression scrolling through Tumblr seeing various people point to various scenes as being made up by Armand that everyone all the time thinks everything that doesn't make sense to them is Armand dicking with memories again.

However, in this case, Louis and Armand were never supposed to see Daniel again. They can't just rewrite his entire life, obviously, because too many people have met/know Daniel and would be like, "Dude, that so did not happen, what is wrong with you?" but if for some reason they made some big mistake during the interview and needed to fix it, they could impart some kind of narrative that couldn't be disputed or verified by anyone who knows him.

Armand also delivers the "she wanted to say yes" speech with a similar tone, but there's a warmth to it. He doesn't seem particularly emotional, although he's also not the most naturally emotive person. But with how good Assad is at subtle acting, I feel like if Armand was actually talking about himself, there would be some kind of hint to it. Instead, it just seems like Armand feels badly for Daniel (who, let's be fair, was being pretty horrible to Louis) and is trying to comfort him. Still a Devil's Minion hint either way. Armand, at least in the books, doesn't give a shit about randos he has no attachment to getting their feelings hurt. If he wants to comfort Daniel, it's because he's gotten attached.

It's in the flashback that Armand looks emotional. And I want to know why.

But yeah, I think that could be why Daniel flashed back to that weird moment. This prodding about Alice is making him remember some fuckery.

That being said, we still don't have much evidence that this is even a power that exists for these vampires. Maybe Fiction Hypnosis could do it, but idk. We'll see.

[crowfeatherquill]

The Joker is a Shitty Clown

Honestly, this one's just a bit of fun. There's a post floating around somewhere about the Joker getting chased down by a bunch of professional clowns wearing his makeup because he never submitted an egg to the...clown...council (I don't know that it's actually called the clown council). This is semi-related to that.

--

“The Joker is a shitty clown.”

When he says it, the room falls silent. Deathly, even, by some estimates, although those could be classified as a tad dramatic. Jason stares, speechless. Damian does not appear to have noticed that anything is wrong. Tim is the first to speak.

“Do...you want to elaborate on that?”

Dick seems to realize in that moment that the non-sequitur has landed him right at the center of a very dense emotional minefield. He considers that acrobatics run in his family. He considers further that so do unfortunate acrobatic accidents. He chooses his next words carefully.

“I mean first of all he’s not even funny, and that’s, like. Rule one. No clown I ever met had to drug people to get them to laugh at their jokes.”

Realization dawns over Jason’s face like a storm breaking and Tim, diplomatically, chooses not to comment on the way he bites the inside of his cheek to try and fight a smile. He figures it’s fine to let Dick sweat a little over this particular topic -- after all, the Joker is a pretty big sore spot for about half the room, and Dick is not generally so quick to shove his foot all the way down his own throat.

Unsure of his standing and desperate not to lose it, Dick presses on.

“And beyond that, he doesn’t have a gimmick. He doesn’t have a character. There’s no consistency, it’s just...chaos. Which I’ve only seen done well maybe once and to be honest it’s so much extra work and for a beginner, I just- I dunno, it seems like a bad move-”

Jason can’t quite keep back a snort. He tries to cover it with a cough, but Dick knows exactly what the sound means. Jason, smartly, does not attempt eye contact. He prefers to leave the manor on his own terms, and with some of his pride still intact.

“Beginner. Unbelievable…” Tim mutters, but even so he finds himself intrigued. He hadn’t realized Dick had such strong opinions about clowns, although he’s not sure why he’s surprised, given the whole circus-kid thing.

Dick, sensing victory is close at hand, leans forward to deliver what he hopes will be the final blow.

“I’ll bet he doesn’t even know about clown college.”

This is not quite enough to break Jason’s iron will, but it’s a close thing, and Tim affords himself a wry smile. He’s always been the easier of the two of them when it comes to Dick’s antics. 

Dick preens in that self-satisfied big brother way that only he can ever seem to pull off and leans back in his chair.

“Once. Just once I’d like to see that hack do an actual routine.”

“For all his glaring faults, I am forced to concede that the howling menace does appear to have grasped one pillar of the art,” Damian says, primly, looking up from what he’s reading.

Tim raises a questioning eyebrow, and Dick tilts his head, taking on the humor-them expression he wears when he thinks he knows better than his younger siblings. Jason still looks inches away from another untimely death and is therefore ill-equipped to respond in any way that isn’t rigid denial of the near convulsive way his shoulders are shaking.

“Oh? And what’s that, Dami,” Dick prompts, and if he wasn’t so sickenly good-hearted it would almost sound patronizing.

Damian looks at Jason, eyes boring into him like little green needles until Jason meets his gaze. His expression does not change when he speaks.

“Slapstick.”

There is a moment of silence so complete you could hear a pin drop from the other side of the manor. And then Jason is howling with laughter, and Tim can’t help but laugh too because holy shit, and Dick is sitting dumbfounded in his chair, gaping at their youngest brother, who merely gives an imperceptible twitch of the corner of his mouth and returns to his book.

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Melissa/reader

Ava is reader’s best friend and accidentally slips that reader likes Melissa because she thinks reader already confessed

A little short, but hopefully sweet! And hopefully what you hoped it might be!

~*~

“You gonna treat my girl right?”

Melissa turns at the non sequitur, finding Ava standing staring at her, hands on hips.  “What?”

“Y/N, your date?” says Ava like she should know exactly what she’s talking about.

Unfortunately, her words only serve to confuse the red head further.  “What?”

The Principal rolls her eyes.  “She said you two were going to dinner on Friday?”

“Yeah,” replies, Melissa, slowly, a frown still painting her features.  “We are.  We’re trying the new Korean barbeque joint.  I’ve been wanting to try it for weeks but Barb was keen, so…”

“Oh,” says Ava, eyebrows raised.  “So she didn’t ask you? Didn't say anything?”

“No…”

The taller woman nods, now quite sure she’s just put her foot rather firmly in it.  “Well, you’re just gonna forget I said anything!” she says quickly, trying to step around the red head and make a break for it. 

“Like hell I am!” hisses Melissa, catching the taller woman by the arm.  “What do you mean my 'date’?”

With a dramatic eye roll, Ava sighs.  “I already started diggin’, may as well get out the excavator.  You didn’t hear it from me but that itty bitty little lesbian is in love with you.  Got a picture of you both as the background on her phone and everything.”

Melissa frowns.  “What's that supposed to mean? I got a picture of me and Barb on mine.”

“And I ain’t judging either of you for that,” says Ava, ignoring the face the red head pulls.  “All I’m sayin’…” she trails off with a sigh.  “I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but just…be gentle with her, okay?  She got it bad for you Schemmenti.”

This time Ava does manage to make her escape, leaving a speechless Melissa in her wake.

*

You’re too busy letting your eyes roam around the restaurant, taking in the sights and smells to realise that Melissa has finished giving the server your order and is now staring at you across the table.

“Something you wanna tell me?” she asks finally, bringing you eyes back to her.

“I don’t think so,” you reply, frowning.  You had spoken to her before you had left school only a couple of hours before.  Nothing exciting had happened since. 

“You mean I got all dressed up and this isn’t even a date?” she asks with a smirk.

Shit.  You wish you were better at hiding your reaction but you know you’re sitting like a rabbit in the headlights.  You’re not sure if Melissa is joking or serious.  Over the last semester, you’ve gotten to be able to read her quite well, but you’re not sure whether it’s the shock or your anxiety that has you spinning.  How does she know?

You know you’ve been in love with her for months now, but she doesn’t know what.  You’ve been very pleased with how well you’ve hidden it.  Or at least, you thought you had.  Then it hits you.  Melissa might not know, but there’s one person who does: Ava.  “I’m gonna kill her,” you hiss, making a grab for your phone where it sits on the table. 

Melissa grabs your hand before you can reach for it.  “Did you really want this to be date?” 

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, your words caught in your throat.  You’re terrified to answer.  To scare her away.  To lose her entirely. 

She releases your hand, tapping your phone screen, making it light up.  It’s a picture of the two of you, taken weeks before at sports bar where Melissa had been once again trying to explain the rules of football to you in between shouting at the game.  She was sporting a winning smile thanks to the Eagles and you…well you were smiling at Melissa. 

“Don’t look too bad together, do we?”

You look up at her words.  There is no teasing in her tone, and her smile, when you see it, is soft, encouraging.  You draw in a shuddering breath.  You maybe haven’t ruined things after all.  “What if I really did want this to be a date?” you ask, watching as her smile only grows. 

“I didn’t get all dressed up for nothing, kid.”

[popatochisssp]

I have a question!!! What would it take to get the more stoic boys (like Ell, Merc, Nemo, Vi and King—and anyone else you want to add) to crack a smile?

So you want to make the stony faces crack a smile, huh? An admirable goal!

I went ahead and picked out the most stoic skeletons I could think of, and the best way to get them to break and laugh for you—or at least grin…

King (Horrorfell Papyrus)  – He’s a tough nut to crack, but if you don’t happen to have a clever wit to banter back and forth with him, using your sharpest ripostes and most stinging barbs, physical comedy is actually your best bet. He’s a bit of a sadist and has just enough of a mean streak to always find it funny when someone falls, or walks into a pole, or really any other form of slapstick as a result of someone’s clumsiness or inattention. He generally has enough grace to rein his visible amusement in, but if you ever see some sort of petty accident waiting to happen, do point it out—or be the clumsy fool yourself, you just might see an undignified snicker.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans) – He actually has a great sense of humor and joy, so he does already smile quite a bit! Just…because of his condition, he has to keep in control of his emotions, so those smiles are small and slow and restrained, lest he feel too much and lose his handle on himself. That said, the element of surprise is crucial to winning the big and real reactions from him, catching him off-guard so he doesn’t see it coming and can’t mount an internal defense against it. Non sequiturs and unexpected punchlines work great for this, but are best used sparingly—both to keep the element of surprise at play, and to keep his discomfort from getting a little melty to a minimum.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus) – In spite of his often surly or sour mood, he’s not especially difficult to amuse. Probably his favorite thing, though, is anything that happens to be unintentionally funny—as in, something that was not meant to be comedic but, by circumstance or execution or some other factor, has just completely missed the mark and has worked its way around to funny. Really badly outdated special effects or especially hokey dialogue in shows and movies tend to work well in getting him to smile, but he’s liable to bark out a laugh for signs and billboards and such that should not have been placed next to each other, or if you share with him something stupid and out of touch that a celebrity or politician may have said.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus) – He’s only deceptively hard to get a smile out of. He’s often anxious, or in guard-dog mode, thinking about things that could happen, and what he’d have to do in the event of X, Y, or Z, which has the Resting Bitch Face out in full force…but he’s far from a heart of stone. When he’s relaxed and comfortable, he’ll smile about pretty much anything, even just for it being a kind of nice day outside. …But if you want to see him smile even when he's not entirely chill, all it really takes is some kids, or maybe a funny animal. Seeing kids goofing around doing kid things, or a puppy dog up to some puppy type antics, he has a hard time not smiling for that.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans) – He’s a very, very tough one, almost the poster skeleton for ‘nothing to smile about in my life.’ He’s definitely lost in his own existentialism a lot, or the opposite and trying not to think about more than what’s directly in front of him, which does make it pretty difficult to get a laugh out of him. Still, he can’t quite help himself when it comes to skeleton-based jokes and puns—it’s tired, old material, sure, but very comforting and familiar, and he likes to hear it. It’s not a guaranteed laugh if you hit him with some humerus wordplay, but he’s pretty likely to be smiling behind his mask, and even likelier to throw you a bone and respond in kind.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus) – With him, it’s a little bit like getting one of those palace guards to crack a smile—it’s not so much that he’s humorless, just that he’s (until recently) not been allowed to show a response…and as a related issue, he’s not at all familiar with social cues and doesn’t always realize a certain response is expected of him. Because of that, one of the best ways to get him to smile is to explain a joke for him, or just let him know that what was said was a joke. It’s easier for him to feel comfortable expressing his amusement if he knows for sure that he was meant to be amused, but as for a specific preference of humor… Well, he actually really likes skeleton-related puns and jokes, too! His brother used to tell them all the time when they were younger and since he wasn’t around long enough to use them to death those are very fond memories!

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans) – Now he’s the poster skeleton for ‘nothing to smile about in my life,’  and consequently, not very easy at all to coax a smile from. He’s too into the habit of keeping his most important and genuine feelings off his face to be fully comfortable smiling over just anything. If someone knows that something makes him happy, it can be taken away from him, after all. …But if whatever he’s smiling about is something vague, deprived of its context and mysterious to anyone who isn’t in the know… His fastest and easiest smiles are the ones that come from inside jokes, funny moments that maybe he didn’t laugh about at the time, but will freely grin and reference later with just a ‘YOU HAD TO BE THERE’ to anyone else prying for more context. He likes secrets, and the ones he can share with you are the most fun.

[paperbackribs]

A Tarnished Copper Boy

Previous | Next Last chapter, it was Spring Break 1986, Vecna was vanquished but Steve mysteriously disappeared when he touched the gate in Eddie's trailer.

Chapter 2: The Sentinel

Fall 1984

Eddie slams his school bag against the side of the couch before falling onto its worn cushions, huffing. It’s only day one into his repeat of senior year and he already wants to quit.

Today had been an unending exercise in patience after walking through the wide doors of Hawkins High, while also pretending not to experience the wash of humiliation for failing to graduate last year. Already thinking that he looks older and certainly feels older than most of the student body.

He'd caught glances from the former juniors too. Typically, being seen as the resident freak wouldn’t get to Eddie. He likes to court that sort of attention every now and then.

But the knowledge that he’s returned due to his own fuck up turned their scrutiny into tiny, pointed daggers stabbing across his back. It made his skin crawl and his van had squealed out of the parking lot minutes after the final bell rang.

An image of Wayne’s hopeful face fills his vision and Eddie’s head falls back against the arm with a groan. He had promised Wayne that he would try again and there is nothing he wouldn’t do for his uncle.

Glaring at the open bag, Eddie decides however that he doesn’t need to tackle it all immediately. Day one, he reasons to himself, pulling out his campaign notebook and pushing The Great Gatsby further into the depths of his backpack.

The scratch of his pen on paper is the only sound in the trailer as Eddie details his new idea about a township under siege. Afternoon sunlight spills past the curtains hanging on the window, the warm glow of it creating a soothing space as he determinedly forgets his day. Eddie faintly notes from its frantic barking that the Hamilton’s dog has spotted a cat when his calm is shattered.

A falling object slams from the ceiling to the floor. The thud echoes through the trailer and shudders under Eddie’s seat.

Pulse jumping in surprise he scrambles away from the moaning intruder sprawled face-down on the carpet. What the fuck, Eddie thinks, head whipping around in increasing shock, urgently looking for where the man had come from.

He’s half crouched, eyeing the front door, when the man struggles to push up onto his hands and knees, back facing Eddie. “Why’d you move the mattress?” He calls out irately.

The surprise of such a non-sequitur briefly knocks Eddie out of his fear and he peers closer, trying to make sense of this strange turn to his afternoon.

He’s just had a moment to take in the back of mud-splattered pants and a brown leather bomber jacket before the man bellows, “Christ!” He plunges to his side, kicking his legs in pain. “Shitting Christ,” he hisses, clutching at his sides. “Like a thousand fucking needles.”

The genuine pain in his voice has Eddie pausing from his bent position, warily watching and surprising himself as he asks, “Are you okay, man?” He immediately slaps a hand to his forehead: what idiot is concerned for the wellbeing of their home invader?

“Yeah,” the man eventually groans, rolling over onto his back and slowing his breathing. He gingerly rises, propping one hand behind him for support and running fingers through thick bronze locks. “Just a bad landing, is all,” Steve Harrington says in the middle of Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie absently wonders whether it’s his head tilting to the side or if it’s the world spiralling that has the ground swaying under him so abruptly. Either way, it does nothing to distract from the shock that’s rung through him like a slap to the face.

Steve’s eyes suddenly lock on Eddie and, bizarrely, a shadow of concern clouds his expression. “Shit,” he rushes to his knees, darting to hover over him, his palms raised like he doesn’t know where to touch first. “Are you okay? You shouldn’t be moving like that.”

Steve pushes him gently against the couch and, just as bizarrely, Eddie simply… lets him. The surprise of this entire situation numbing him into a blank compliance.

Steve presses his hands against the sides of Eddie’s torso, the warmth of it scalding through his thin shirt, before frowning and shaking his head. “No, it was…” He redirects his attention, staring intently at Eddie’s lap before starting to pat large palms against his legs. He frowns, “Where’s the blood?”

But it’s Steve’s thumb moving against the inside of his thigh—the intimacy of the inadvertent gesture—that finally jolts Eddie out of his shock and he slaps at Steve’s roving fingers with one hand and uses the other to push him away.

Unprepared for Eddie’s hasty resistance, Steve falls on his backside with an oomph, arms splaying behind him to keep himself upright. His face is one long crease, mouth downturned and brows furrowed. “Where are your injuries?” He asks urgently, eyes darting over Eddie’s exposed neck and collarbones.

“What injuries?” Eddie asks in exasperation, feeling like he’s going out of his mind.

Steve leans urgently forward, gesturing with a frantic hand. “The bats, man. You’re— that is, you were pumping blood out of those bites just a second ago. I thought Robin was going to puke if she had to look under your bandage one more time. Robin—” His head swivels, turning and twisting, trying to find—Eddie assumes—this Robin.

Under his warm tan, Steve pales even as his breathing picks up. “Where’s Robin? What about Dustin? Why—” His head snaps to the ceiling in a way that has Eddie wincing in sympathetic pain. He follows his eyeline but all he can see is the normal plain beige above them, and that small water stain that looks like Australia in the corner.

Steve’s wide eyes shoot back to Eddie, panic clear in their depths as they frantically take in every detail. He shifts back onto his knees, slowly reaching out to touch the end of Eddie’s hair, now long enough to just brush his shoulders. His fingers tremble. “Your hair, it’s so short. And…” He swallows, the gulp audible in the silence of the room, “You’re okay. The trailer is okay.”

He trails off, gaze turning inward before focusing on the curl pinched between his fingertips. “It hasn’t happened yet, has it.”

Steve’s face is inches from his own, enough that Eddie can feel the warmth of his breath as it washes over his skin. He’s not keen on how Steve’s invading his personal space but doesn’t have it in him to push someone away when they are so clearly freaking out.

The guy looks like he’s teetering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack. And the last thing he needs is some jock losing his mind in Eddie’s home; though, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s talked someone down from a bad trip.

Eddie sighs, he may not like or even really know Steve, but he doesn’t want  to see him suffer either. “Steve,” Eddie says gently, trying to break through the fog clouding his expression, “What’d you take, man?”

That’s the first thing to figure out: has he been mixing with drinks, is it some bad shrooms, or a paranoid spiral from getting too baked? Eddie’s thinking something along the lines of acid if the guy is hallucinating bats big enough to take down a fully grown man.

Steve snorts, a bit of colour returning to his face as he drops Eddie’s curls, leaning back onto his heels. “No, man. I’m not high.” His head tilts back as he spears his fingers through his hair and Eddie struggles not to look too closely at the smooth skin stretched over his neck or the pretty little moles dotted across it.

“Not high, but I feel a little out of my mind. I think…” He curses, still staring up at the ceiling like it’s an oracle about to unveil otherworldly guidance. “I think I’m not in the right place or the right—” He stops like he can’t say it.

Eddie shifts uneasily against the couch. For the most part, Steve seems in his right mind, even if the contents of what he’s saying don’t make much sense.

His gaze narrowing, Eddie finally realises that the man in front of him also looks very different from the high school junior of last year. He appears roughed up, for one thing, with smudges of dirt smeared across a cheek and under his chin. And his jaw looks sharper and hair longer, more 70’s rebel than 1950’s greaser.

“The ‘right’ what?” Eddie asks softly, figuring it won’t hurt to play along and understand what’s making Steve stop and start his sentences like a stalling engine.

Plus, he’s sort of intrigued by this rugged version of the prep jock that he’s used to seeing in the hallways. The dissonance was disorientating at first, but he can’t deny that it’s a good look on him.

Steve gazes at Eddie’s shoulder-length hair again, dropping his eyes to the backpack against the couch that’s half open and spilling onto the floor, his school notepad and maths textbook peeking through. “Remind me, Eddie. What grade are you in right now?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, trying to think if they had any classes together today to justify the annoyance that runs through him. If nothing else, a returning senior is still noteworthy he thinks a little bitterly. “Come on, Harrington. It’s day one of our final year, don’t tell me you’ve checked out this early.”

“Right,” Steve nods to himself, Eddie’s irritation not even registering. “1984. You were at the desk in front of me in Click's. I’d catch you drawing your characters and monsters for Hellfire rather than taking notes.”

Eddie’s eyebrows fly up in surprise, “You know about Hellfire?”

Steve takes in Eddie’s expression, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah man, my kids love that club.” He rolls up to his feet in an easy movement that has Eddie vaguely jealous.

Standing tall above Eddie with one hand curled around his hip he looks like he’s about to outline the Tiger’s new gameplan, Steve continues to explain, “I was a bit jealous at first, but Dustin loves it and really that’s what matters, right? Dustin…” He snaps his fingers, lips firming, “He’ll know what’s going on.”

“Uh, you might be thinking of some other club then, because we don’t have a Dustin,” Eddie says.

Steve’s smile deepens, a small secretive thing like he’s laughing at a joke that Eddie may not know but oddly he doesn’t feel like it’s at his expense either. “No, not yet. You’ll love him though.” He hums thoughtfully, “It’s hard not to like the little butthead. Hey, you have the van yet?”

Eddie blinks from the abrupt change of topic and at Steve as he unerringly strides to the space on the wall by the front door. “Yeah?” He says, confused as Steve plucks the Chevrolet’s chain from the hooks where he and Wayne keep their keys.

It’s out in the open so Eddie’s not exactly shocked that Steve went there first, but his confidence at finding the location in one go is weird.

Eddie supposes the ghoul figurine that he had painted and tailored to work as a key chain makes it even more obvious since Steve Harrington apparently knows about Dungeons and Dragons and thus can guess that the monster hanging on the hook is likely Eddie’s.

Eddie, who he has noticed in class. Or will. He’s not sure about the whole thing concerning Mrs Click’s class since they didn’t have history today.

The jarring difference between Steve’s words against reality must be the reason that Eddie feels a half step behind, which is also why it takes a moment to launch into action when Steve twirls the key ring around one blunt finger before stepping out of the trailer. The screen door slaps shut behind him.

“Hey!” Eddie calls out, scrambling after him only to find that Steve is waiting outside. He moves Eddie gently down the steps with his hands around his biceps before turning to close the door. After the quiet snick of the lock turning, he presses the keys into Eddie’s hand. “Give me a lift?”

Eddie closes his gaping mouth and nods dumbly. Sure, why not, he thinks, swallowing down a giggle at the ridiculous circus his afternoon has devolved into. Steve jogs over to the unlocked van door and launches himself onto the passenger seat, wincing and grabbing at his side with a soft curse.

Eddie frowns as he follows him into the driver’s side, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Steve just smiles, pushing a hand back to rap against the passenger window, “You should lock your car door, man. It’d be pretty easy to hotwire, right?”

Staring at Steve, whose tongue is firmly in his cheek and looking less lost and more amused, Eddie wonders aloud, “What is even happening right now?”

“Ignore me,” Steve shakes his head, eyes glimmering with humour. “Can you get to Piney Wood Drive off of Church Street?”

Eddie nods slowly, not completely sure about why he’s allowing himself to be directed by Steve’s whims. He thinks that a sort of morbid curiosity for this mystery is pulling him along like metal fillings drawn to a shiny magnet.

“Sure,” he finally answers, turning the key. Judas Priest blasts from the stereo and Rob Halford growls about the growing storm. Eddie reverses off the gravel while Steve reaches over to turn the volume down, but surprisingly doesn’t flick it off.

Steve doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looking out at the blur of houses past the window and tapping his finger against the car door in time with the beat. “Is this Ozzy?” He asks.

Eddie blinks at the stop sign they’ve paused at, “You know Black Sabbath?” Has his soul left his body? Maybe Eddie’s the one tripping balls back at home because surely Steve doesn’t know Black Sabbath.

“Not really,” Steve chuckles. “I just know he’s pretty metal — bit a bat onstage, right?”

Again with the bats. “You have a thing for small flying marsupials?” Eddie turns left onto Highland Drive, slowing down as an older couple cross the middle of the street. “I don’t think they are. Marsupials, that is.” Steve gestures to his stomach, “No, uh, pouches, right?”

Eddie reroutes his thoughts to safer, saner places than a world where he’s being taught species characteristics by someone he’s fairly sure he’s not exchanged two words with before today. He decides to flip the script instead, “No, this is Judas Priest. The Sentinel.”

“Is that a D&D reference?”

Eddie huffs in disbelief, “No, it’s the song title. It’s about a protector that’s ready to defend against any threat. He’s pretty badass, has blades and everything.”

“Sounds like D&D,” Steve snorts as Eddie turns down Church Street.

Eddie inclines his head, “Touche. Now, where are we heading?” Steve directs him to the top of the incline on Piney Wood Drive where a cluster of birch trees surround a wide, single-storey house. The peaks of the roof charmingly peer out between the tall, white trunks like a little hobbit home.

And it’s as the house’s entrance swings open—Eddie helpless to do anything but follow behind Steve at this point—that he finds himself in front of a little hobbit as well.

A pipsqueak pulls the door back with a demanding sort of energy, his face is framed by tight brown curls shoved under a blue and white baseball cap and when he opens his mouth to speak, Eddie sees that his top front teeth are missing. “Steve?”

“Dustin!” Steve steps forward and roughly pulls the kid into his arms. Dustin’s expression looks like an echo of Eddie’s earlier bewilderment, but he gingerly reaches a small hand up to awkwardly pat him on the back.

Steve hangs there for an extra second before roughly clearing his throat and standing up again, though his hand continues to rest on Dustin’s shoulder. “Buddy,” he says, “You’ve got to help me out here: I’m a freaking time traveller.”

(This will have a similiar release schedule to The Gift, with Ao3 always updated first :) )

Tag list under the cut

My taglist is always open, so let me know if you want to be added. Likewise, if you want to be removed, let me know. :)

@bookworm0690, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @finntheehumaneater, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @hallucinatedjosten, @just-a-tiny-void, @ledleaf, @littlewildflowerkitten, @manda-panda-monium, @mightbeasleep, @nburkhardt, @newtstabber, @stillfullofshit, @tartarusknight

[bunysliper]

Fic prompt: s5 pillow talk 💛

I know it's been forever since you prompted this, I hope you like it!

Talks in the Dark

"What'd you want to be when you grew up?"

The question comes out of the blue, a complete non sequitur to the last words they'd spoken (which had been more breathless pants than an actual conversation), but Kate just laughs, reaching back for his hand and bringing it around her body to bring his chest flush with her back.

"When you were really little, I mean," he continues, dusting a kiss to the skin at the back of her neck. "I know you told me once that when you were in college you were pre-law, and then you became the greatest detective in the world, but when you were your little, tiny, feisty baby Beckett self, what'd you want to be?"

Kate strokes her fingertips over the back of his hand, using the gentle rhythm to help herself think. She knows she'd wanted to be something different back then, all kids did even if it was something absolutely absurd, but she can't for the life of her remember what it was.

"I really don't know," she says. "I guess maybe I always kind of wanted to be like my mom."

She feels him smile against her skin, shivering when he brushes his stubble along her shoulder.

"I could see that," he agrees. "You do stick to your guns when you know what you want."

Kate exhales, clutching his hand a little tighter. She's trying not to be so rigid, but she knows he's seen that side of her too often.

"My dad used to joke that 'stubborn' should have been my middle name."

Castle chuckles. "Katherine Stubborn Beckett; it does have a ring to it."

She smiles. "Not the worst name in the world, anyway."

He hums.

"Come to think of it, though, I feel like I did once tell my parents I wanted to be a groundskeeper in a cemetery after we went to a funeral."

Castle's head tilts on the pillow. "I need to know. Tell me everything. How did you go from lawyer to groundskeeper in a cemetery, and back to lawyer?"

"I remember seeing the care they took in making sure the graves looked nice, and it was quiet and peaceful there."

"And you didn't think, even for a second that it might be haunted?"

She snorts. "Not even a little bit."

"Party pooper."

Kate hums. "What about you? What'd you want to be before little Ricky Castle decided the life of a writer was for him?"

Castle's fingers twitch in hers. "Oh, I definitely wanted to be a ghostbuster who patrolled a cemetery. Zap a few poltergeists with my proton pack before they can terrorize people? The best."

She doesn't believe it for a second, but she laughs anyway, giving him that.

"And then I'd fall in love with an unbelievably, unrealistically sexy cemetery groundskeeper and we'd be together forever, making sure the army of the undead never rose to terrorize the city."

Kate snorts. "No really, Castle. What'd you want to be?"

He exhales. "A journalist, I think. Television, print, either. I wanted to report facts to people and keep them up to date about what was going on in the world. I used to sit Mother down and force her to watch my nightly news reports. Which I wrote myself about events I almost completely made up."

His lips pucker against her skin. "It turns out fiction is much more fun."

Kate laughs. "Now that I believe."

Behind her, Castle hums.

"I am glad to know that about you, though," she adds. Pulling her hand out of his grip, her fingers trail down his arm, making soothing strokes. "Thanks for telling me."

His foot brushes hers. "Thanks for telling me about yours, too. You would make a pretty hot groundskeeper, you know."

Laughter bubbles in her chest. "Thanks, Castle," she drawls. "I'll keep that in mind if I ever decide to change jobs."

He grins against her skin. "Good."

Quiet settles, blanketing them in warmth. Kate sinks deeper into the mattress, allowing herself to drift. She's on the cusp of sleep when she hears her name again.

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

A smile works its way over her lips. "I know."

He chuckles, pulling her closer, rearranging the tangle of limbs they've created until they're both comfortable.

"Hey Cas'le?" she says a second later, peeking an eye open and twisting her head as far as she can. She can't see him, but it's the thought that counts.

"Yeah?"

"I love you, too."

[writeforfandoms]

Fall Into Me 8

Find the series masterlist

Gaz and Soap spend an evening trying not to worry. Gaz finds something unexpected on the coffee shop Monday morning.

Warnings: Swearing, antisemitism (instance of swastika being spraypainted on the building), not quite panic attack, Soap and Gaz gossip.

Word count: 2.1k

Eventual Rose x 141/Los Vaqueros. Eventual.

Gaz liked Soap, he really did. He just… liked Soap less when Soap followed him home.

Not that he was truly surprised anymore. Soap only spent half of his nights in his own apartment, claiming it was too quiet and infringing on everyone else’s spaces instead. 

(Apparently the last time Soap had shown up uninvited at Ale and Rudy’s apartment, though, Ale had sworn at him in Spanish for a solid minute before throwing a pillow in his face. Rudy still refused to translate everything, and Soap went an interesting shade of red whenever the subject came up.) 

Gaz had acquiesced with mostly good grace, especially since Soap paid for dinner from a little deli Gaz had never been to. 

Which is how the two ended up on Gaz’s couch, eating some of the best matzo ball soup Gaz had ever had and playing video games. 

“You have to go left,” Gaz pointed out, very helpfully if anybody asked him. 

“I know what I’m doing,” Soap muttered, hunching his shoulders. “Guess that explains how she knew about the deli.” 

“What?” Gaz blinked at the non-sequitur, and then smirked when Soap had to backtrack. “Told you to go left.” 

“Fuck off,” Soap grumbled without heat. “Rose. Jewish. Explains how she knew about the deli.” 

Gaz snorted. “I don’t think she knows every Jewish spot in the city just because she is, man.” 

Soap shrugged. “Dunno, she got a bit squirrely when we asked.” 

Gaz huffed, leaning back and balancing his soup in his lap. “Not everybody likes Jews,” he pointed out, reasonably enough. 

“I know that!” Soap growled softly when he had to backtrack again. 

“And she doesn’t know us well, yet.” Gaz ignored that little outburst. “Of course she’s being cautious. Can’t blame her.”

Soap didn’t respond for several moments. “D’ye think she’s been hurt before? Because of who she is.”

Gaz considered the question carefully and eventually shrugged. “Dunno. It’s hard to say. She hides a lot behind those smiles.” 

Soap grunted softly as he finally got his character back onto the farm and into bed. “Your turn.” 

Gaz took the remote and knocked his fist into Soap’s shoulder. “There’s still a lot we don’t know. Takes time to get to know someone. Just keep being you, she has fun with you.” 

“Course she does.” Soap grinned, leaning back to watch Gaz work on the farm. “How’d you get her number, anyway?”

“I asked.” Gaz preened a little. “She likes me.”

“Shove off.” Soap stuck his tongue out. 

“I could make you go home.”

“Good luck, this couch is mine.” 

Gaz was just debating pausing the game to tackle Soap off the couch when his phone pinged. He paused the game anyway but only to dig his phone out. 

“From Rose,” he muttered, for Soap’s benefit. “Says she’s… on her way home already?” 

“It’s just past 9,” Soap muttered, frowning. “She alright?”

Gaz was quick to text back, thanking her for letting him know and asking if she was alright. He ate more soup while he waited for a response. It was really good soup. 

I’m fine. Dinner ended early is all, no big deal. See you Monday!

Gaz turned his phone around so Soap could read it before Soap could do anything like try to wrestle the phone away from him.

“Dinner ended early,” Soap repeated blandly. “Sounds a bit fishy, aye?”

“Not our concern,” Gaz reminded him. “She’s basically telling us to back off.” 

Soap made a face but didn’t argue. “Hurry up and finish the day,” he grumbled. “I wanna see if I can catch that fish.” 

Gaz rolled his eyes but resumed the game. But he (and Soap) kept an eye on his phone, just in case of further texts. 

But he didn’t hear anything more from her all weekend. 

He got up early Monday morning, intending to help her out with the shop for the morning rush. Fortunately he didn’t live far from the office building (closer than everybody except Soap, actually) so it wasn’t a long walk. 

He stopped dead on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop. Someone had spraypainted a swastika on the outside of the shop, the black and white stark and ugly. 

“Rose!” He ran the last few steps to the door, tugging on it. Locked. But the lights were on. “Rose!” He knocked and then moved, searching for movement in the shop. 

Rose emerged from the back, pale and trembling, and unlocked the door for him. Gaz was quick to grab her shoulders, giving her a once-over. But she looked okay, just scared and shaky.

“Are you alright?” he asked, locking the door behind them and guiding her back again. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She looked at the front window and shuddered, eyes closing in misery. “I already called building management, I’m waiting to hear back.” 

Gaz clenched his jaw for a moment. “I’m calling the Captain.”

“What? No! Why?” She shook her head rapidly, hair whipping around her head. 

“He might have access to the outside cameras, so he can find who did this.” Gaz shrugged as he pulled out his phone. 

“Don’t bother him so early.” Rose looked if anything more panicky, which was… the opposite of what he wanted. 

Slowly, he put his phone back away and pulled her into a hug. Her next inhale was shaky, and he hugged her harder even as he felt moisture on his shoulder. Her hands gripped the back of his shirt tightly, but she was remarkably quiet. If anything, that made his heart hurt more for her - that kind of quiet was learned. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally gasped, pulling away and wiping at her eyes. “I just–it was a long weekend and I didn’t get much sleep and I wasn’t expecting to see that and–”

“Easy,” Gaz murmured, tugging her over to a chair. “It’s alright, you’re alright. We’ll get that taken care of, yeah? You don’t have to worry about it.” 

Rose shook her head again, but she didn’t actually object, so Gaz called Price. But he stayed right next to Rose, one hand rubbing her shoulder. 

“Gaz,” Price answered, calm and even as always. “What’s going on?” 

“Someone spraypainted the outside of the coffee shop,” he reported immediately, squeezing Rose’s shoulder when her breathing hitched. “I’ve got Rose.” 

“Copy that, I can be there in ten.” 

“Rog. See you soon.” Gaz hung up. He had no idea how Price was going to manage getting here in ten minutes, but if there was one thing he knew about his Captain, it was that when he gave his word, he kept it. Price would be there in ten minutes, or less. “What can I get you, love?” 

Rose shrugged a little helplessly. “I don’t know. I haven’t…” Her gaze strayed to the window again and she swallowed hard. 

“Hey.” Gaz moved between her and the window, cupping her cheek to keep her from leaning around him. “You’re alright.” 

Rose shook her head again but didn’t elaborate further, just ducked her head. “I should be getting ready to open.” 

“I think people will understand if you don’t, today.” Gaz was going to hold his ground on this. Especially since he knew he’d have backup shortly. 

“No, I was already closed all weekend, I can’t…” Rose trailed off, visibly struggling. 

“This counts as extenuating circumstances, love.” Gaz swiped his thumb over her cheek, hating the wetness there, that this had upset her enough to cry over. “We’ll get it figured out, yeah?” 

Her next exhale was shaky, and for a moment Gaz was afraid she’d start crying again. But she just sniffled and nodded. 

“I have tissues in the back,” she muttered, getting to her feet again, more slowly than normal. She shuffled away from him. Gaz almost called her back or grabbed her or offered to do it for her, but he restrained himself. She needed a bit of time and space. At least she wouldn’t be able to see the spraypaint from the back. 

Gaz put his hands on his hips and briefly dropped his head. Poor thing - she needed a few more good hugs and some time to calm down. 

And they needed to figure out if this was a genuine threat or just some arsehole. 

Two pairs of boots approaching got Gaz to move, and he unlocked the door before Price could knock. Ale was with him, likely a coincidence, holding a small bundle of flowers. Both men looked furious, as Gaz expected. 

“Sitrep,” Price growled, taking a quick look around the store.

“Found that this morning,” Gaz said, locking the door again. “Rose is in the back, already contacted building management. Unknown motive.” 

Ale set the flowers down gently, lips set in a grim line. “Cameras?”

Gaz shrugged. “Don’t have access yet.” 

Price nodded once, gaze flitting about the store. “Is she staying closed today?” 

“No.” Rose stopped behind the counter. Her face was still a little blotchy, her eyes still a little red, but she looked steadier. She was certainly less pale. “I can’t.”

“You don’t know if that is a threat.” Price crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I doubt it. Most likely just someone thought they’d make an antisemitic statement.” She shrugged. “It’s awful, but it could be worse.”

“It could be worse is not reassuring, cariño,” Ale murmured, stepping closer to her to cup her shoulders. “We worry because we care for you and do not want to see you hurt.”

For a moment, her lip trembled. Then she breathed in slowly, smiling just a little. “I appreciate that. But I really can’t stay closed today.” Her gaze darted to the window darkened with spraypaint and the smile twisted into a grimace. “For one thing, I don’t want to be intimidated into closing. And for another… still have bills to pay.” 

Ale clucked and pulled her into a hug, tucking her easily under his chin. Watching the two of them, it struck Gaz how much smaller she was - she fit easily into Ale’s hold. Even Gaz had no problem tucking her into his shoulder when he wanted to. Smaller, soft, gentle. All the things that he’d been trying to protect in the world. 

Gaz clenched his jaw and looked away, only to find Price already watching him. The captain raised a single eyebrow: Alright? Gaz nodded once, determined. 

“Gaz will stay here today,” Price decided, watching as Rose pulled back a bit. “I’ll handle building management.”

“But–” Rose started to protest. 

“Your safety is more important,” Price interrupted, no-nonsense. “One of us will be here, we can work down here just as well as in the office. It’s not a problem. It’s not an imposition. Clear?” 

Rose made a complicated expression, an almost-smile paired with a little wiggle of her nose (and seriously, Gaz hadn’t thought she could get cuter) and some eyebrow acrobatics. Then she sighed and nodded. “Fine. Just. Don’t make anybody go out of their way because of this.”

Price huffed a laugh. “Darling, I’ll be lucky if they don’t all relocate down here,” he drawled. 

He had a point, Gaz had to admit. Rose blushed, though if it was the nickname or the rest of the sentence he couldn’t tell. Not for sure. But she was rallying quickly. 

“Fine,” she agreed. “But you will let me know the second you hear anything from management.” She narrowed her eyes a little at him, which was fair. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Price’s lips twitched with a barely repressed smile.

“Oh don’t ‘ma’am’ me,” she sassed. “Or I’ll start calling you Captain.”

Gaz just caught Price’s reaction, watching heat flare and be suppressed in a fraction of a second. Oh. Now that was new. 

Ale, fortunately, distracted her with another hug, murmuring something to her too low for Gaz to hear. Gaz took the opportunity to step closer to his Captain. 

“Standard check ins?”

“Yes.” Price didn’t look away from the two for another long moment before those blue eyes focused on Gaz. “I’ll keep you updated on my end.”

“Rog.” Gaz nodded once and slipped back behind the counter to grab the spare apron again. He paused outside the tiny office - he’d peeked inside before, of course, enough to see that there was barely enough room for Rose to get any kind of work done. Today there was a bright-colored bag sitting on the desk chair, and he could just see yarn poking out the top. 

He walked away, because if he thought about this too much, thought about Rose coming into work happy and looking forward to sharing her knitting, he’d go hunt the bastard down himself. 

“Where do we start?” he asked brightly, smiling at Rose.

[firenati0n]

fic pride friday

yeah it's not friday idc idc thank you to @kiwiana-writes @anincompletelist @anchoredarchangel for the tags <3

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

i only have 7 fics so I'm using snips from all of them...maybe this will motivate me...hoping it helps :)

snips below the cut so it's not a pain on your dash lol. also they're in order of posting, so if you haven't read something just scroll on by lol:

from our world, mine and his alone (the midnight train to go) aka cracky brain worm fic:

In a poorly executed non sequitur, he settled to comment on the first thing he could think of. Fatal error.  Deep breath in. “By the way. Digging the cardigan, Henry. Very…” He rifled through his extensive vocab for literally any appropriate adjective. Refined? Boring. Professional? Practical, but also boring.   “Very…?” Henry raised an eyebrow, long fingers wrapped around a cup of tea. Earl Grey, Henry had said a while ago, but Alex couldn't be sure. He had been terribly distracted by said fingers, wondering where else those fingers could— What Alex’s distracted, useless worms in his left temporal lobe decided to supply him with as a response was: “Slutty-English-Literature-professor core.” Alex was going to jump off the train. He was going to change his name. He was going to get a lobotomy, as a treat. 

+

from An Amateur's Guide to Piping That Cream and Beating That Meat aka thirst trap tiktok au:

and my favorite part is the end when henry makes a bold ass move on alex through an old tiktok comment while he's sat across from him LMFAOOOO king shit:

+

from each time we touch / i wanna take too much aka fingers in mouths dreamy fic:

Eyes still closed, Henry kisses Alex's thumb, a soft touch, and Alex sucks in a sharp breath. He presses his thumb inside for a second, resting it on Henry's tongue. Henry's eyes open, slow and steady, and he grasps Alex's hand gently, pulling his thumb out and wrapping his long pale fingers around Alex's index and middle finger instead; pulls them into his mouth, closing his lips around Alex's digits. Alex lets out a stuttered gasp as he leans into the touch, his fingers sliding in a little deeper. The sound of his shaky exhale sits for a second, heavy in the silence. The air around them crackles. There's a weight on Alex's chest, pressing and pressing and pressing, until he can barely get a breath in or out within the inches of shared space between him and Henry. Henry swirls his tongue around Alex's fingers, and his eyes are clear as ever as they bore into Alex, a challenge. And who is Alex to deny him anything?

+

from keep me up all night / i wanna scratch your surface aka lovely prose all over fic:

Alex is determined to give him the world, even if it’s narrowed down to a strip of smooth skin just below Henry’s clavicle, a constellation of purple and red hues littered in places no one can see, in spots wandering eyes can’t reach. Alex’s heart pouring out of his mouth, sliding past his tongue and right onto Henry’s skin, the universe contained in Henry’s rib cage that protects the air they share in impassioned exhales and the heartbeat that intertwines with Alex’s when they’re like this; a sacred harmony of bodies and spaces. He’ll never tire of this.

and also this:

Alex does his worst, and then some; a reminder that they get to have this. It’s theirs, and it’s the universe in Henry’s ribcage, and it’s the moonlight reflected in Alex’s eyes, and it’s the world narrowed down to bruises on a pale canvas and bite marks on golden skin. Marks that they can run delicate fingertips over, press into with devotion; tucked away for safekeeping in the morning, their starkness harsh in the sunlight. There are no eyes worthy of Henry in the daytime.

+

from cause you're classic, and i'm reckless aka ryan gosling / rachel mcadams inspired actor au:

When Alex was called up for his award, he felt himself go right back to where he was on day one of rehearsals—transparent, with his heart on his sleeve and voice a little wobbly. Being recognized for his accomplishments felt so novel, so intense, so foreign. After fighting tooth and nail to proudly sport his biracial and bisexual identity, he was thrilled to be accepted for who he was, and told he was good enough for the masses, his intersectionality a standout and not something to hide; good enough for Henry as a costar, holding his own opposite an industry darling. He couldn’t keep the tremor out of his voice as he accepted his trophy, thanking everyone for their hard work on this movie, the studio for backing a movie about unapologetic queer love, and Henry for being his faithful guide and cheerleader in a new landscape for Alex, giving him space to be his authentic self free of judgment and fear of failure. He’s so, so grateful for this. He will never stop being grateful; after pouring his heart and soul into this movie, he got so much back in return, and then some. He’s completely rearranged, made up of brand new parts next to his old, rusty ones; a patchwork heart beating erratically yet earnestly, hands that have traversed new spaces and swaths of skin, people pouring themselves back into him and sanding down the rough parts, caressing the scared ones. Alex feels not just reborn, but also like the person he always was deep down, just waiting to have a chance to emerge with all his heart to show for it.

+

from who truly stuck the knife in first aka spy au aka sexually charged wrestling:

Alex averts his gaze, rolling onto his back to gaze at the cracks in the ceiling. The thing is. The thing is, Alex doesn’t know where the fuck to go from here. Between the barbs and the knives and the tension and the rolling around on the floor and the bed in a sexually frustrated heap, Alex didn’t take a second to consider he could have this, could have Henry in a way that mattered. Now that it's just within reach, he's scared it's going to slip away from his fingers and into the night if he holds on too tight, wants too much. He’s spared the need to respond by the sound of a crackle coming from Henry's laptop, then clothes rustling as someone groans. Manu’s bug is up and running, the man probably fielding a killer hangover and hazy memories of Alex and unbuttoned shirts and hands wrapped around throats. Alex clears his throat, scraping away any remnants of lingering affection. “Back to work, Foxy,” he says with a cheeky grin. Before he can help himself, though, he leans into Henry, planting a sweet kiss on his parted lips. Henry sighs into him, cupping his cheek with a tenderness Alex hasn't felt in a long while. He tastes like a future Alex dreams of having one day. For now, that's enough. It has to be.

+

from and all i can taste is this moment, and all i can breathe is your life aka angel!henry fic aka city of angels au with a happy ending:

Henry forges on, the words pouring out of him, spilling all over the cliffside for Alex to see. “It is a sin worth committing, a fruit worth eating—at least I’ll get to taste you. You will never be a lapse in my judgment. You are my salvation, through you I get to reclaim myself. Isn’t that beautiful, isn’t that everything you’ve taught me about life and love and humanity?” Alex gazes at him, mouth slightly agape, taking in Henry’s impassioned words. Alex has spent his life fighting for others, extending himself beyond his limits. Now it’s Henry’s turn. “Darling, I’ve spent years, centuries even, pondering the question of what makes you human, what sits in your core. After all this time, the answer is unchanging—it’s love. Love, and care, and the unflinching determination of the human condition. With this, with you, I’ve experienced the absolutely soul-crushing realization that our hearts are built to endure when you have hope.” Henry’s voice wavers a bit, but he presses forward, determined to make the words land. “You are my hope, the hope I never thought I’d get to have, the hope I never thought I deserved to keep. With you, I want to endure.”

xoxo roop

open tag but also some no pressure tags : @wordsofhoneydew @cha-melodius @cricketnationrise @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @whimsymanaged

@nontoxic-writes @alasse9 @ships-to-sail @leaves-of-laurelin @myheartalivewrites

@sherryvalli @ninzied @rmd-writes @suseagull04 @inexplicablymine

[earthstellar]

still thinking about Earthspark Bumblebee being stuck with the kids entirely by himself for any slightly extended period of time and it’s so funny 

because I keep thinking about all the stuff kids have said to me when I’ve been babysitting or back when I worked in education and it’s so good 

there is no way Bumblebee would be fully prepared, at this stage, for Child Questions and Statements 

some real things children have said to me: 

-”I’M ANGRY” “thank you for telling me! why are you feeling angry?” “BECAUSE!!! RAIN ISN’T MADE OF ICE [takes big breath] CREEEEEEAM”

-”when the sun goes down it’s good because the sun needs to sleep too, but then the moon comes out at night so when does the moon sleep? WHEN DOES IT SLEEP?” 

(this was eventually resolved by me reading them “Goodnight Moon” as proof that the moon does in fact sleep, because why would we tell it goodnight if it didn’t also have a bedtime)

-”since dinosaurs were real, are we real?” 

-”if dead people live in cemeteries, how do they get their food underground? can we call Pizza Hut? I want pizza like dead people!!! I WANT DEAD PEOPLE PIZZA” (this eventually became “peepza” the longer this demand continued) 

-”planes go up. if I jump hard enough with super jump power, could I go to France? can we get a trampoline? I wanna go to France. WAIT!!! WOULD I NEED A PASS-PORP??? I DON’T HAVE A PASS-PORP!! NOOO” 

-”I AM APPLE MAN” [child proceeds to walk into the room swinging an apple around in a tote bag over his head, like some kind of medieval flail] 

-”I DON’T WANNA PLAY!” “oh no, why not?” “A BIRD POOPED ON MY FAVOURITE TREE” 

-”TODAY I LEARNED WE HAVE WATER INSIDE US!!! NOT JUST PEE!!!! pee pee pee pee pee pee pee pee” 

-”how does the floor work?” 

(legitimately a good question but it will be a while before they can apply for architectural engineering school, we ended up watching a documentary on how Tudor houses were constructed to try to solve this one lmao) 

-”I looked at my pen, I looked too hard, and it stopped working. I have mind powers like Mr Professor from X-MEN!!” [child proceeded to spend the entire day trying to “be strong brained” by staring at things] 

now, of course, the kid/Terrans are a bit more developed than this, a lot of these were from younger children, which is probably obvious 

but I can foresee there being a lot of questions about Earth etc. that Bumblebee might genuinely not know the answer to, or he might get faced with child non-sequiturs that throw him off

and because the Terrans may not actually understand yet how certain natural events (like rain) occur, I can imagine there would be some interesting questions, some of which might be more immediately answerable and some which would probably take more work 

I feel like Nightshade would ask more scientifically inquisitive questions which Bee might not be able to answer, stuff like that

but either way, there would be so many questions 

and some of them are bound to be wild 

lmao 

[matt0044]

Disney's Wish: A Simple Meal Well Made.

As somebody who enjoys all sorts of animation that hits that sweet spot for me, I agree with the general consensus of fellow cartoon fans that animation is NOT just for kids nor should it only enjoyable to kids.

I also agree that while some are made with kids in mind, that doesn't mean that they are bereft of thought put into them. Avatar might be overdone as the go-to example but that it is does speak to its quality and all those it had inspired.

Even so, even wacky comedies like Billy & Mandy have a lot of thought put into them in terms of what the creators think will bust a gut. They don't just settle for wacky comedies because it's what the kids want but more what they wanna show. Even if some are strongarmed into being more comical, most will at least roll up their sleeves and have bit of fun.

However, I feel like this need to highlight animation's appeal across generations can often have a lot of fans put pressure on certain projects from certain studios of significant recognition. That is to say, there's little room to be just "mid" as the kids call it.

Like... we all know the Oscars are bull, right? Like many even admit as much. However, this dismissal of animation each year gets to use largely because there are those who by their hype. We feel our medium has a lot to prove so each movie has to be go big or go home.

Especially after big name companies put out projects that go GIANT between Spider-Verse and The Last Wish.

Of course, as it pertains to Wish, many would consider Disney not going big was unbefitting of their centenary film. I'm not here to advocate for expecting less or that one can't feel more meat could've been added to what they feel is a bit bare bones. I mean, 100 years of movie making is nothing to sneeze at.

But baring that and all else I've discussed above, it can be REALLY easy to fall into the pit trap of seeing Wish far less for what it is and a lot more for what it isn't.

For me?

I found the pacing fairly brisk from start to finish with the songs rarely ever feeling like non sequiturs. Rarely did any moment truly drag out with or was there just because of marketing or comic relief.

I love how we had less of a mystery around King Magnifico being a very selfish behind the scene from Act 1 and only getting worse when he perceives a threat to his power. It very much reads like a fantastical take on Walt Disney's rise in power and shadiness behind the charming facade.

While the heroine was archetypical, I found Asha's story and her friends getting swept up in facing the king more true to life than you think. Especially when viewed through the lens of being analogous to Disney:

King Magnifico as this benevolent ruler who harbors many wishes he promised he might grant. Many of which either come down to how they may not serve him or even threaten him like Saba's. That is, anything new or off-beat that could undermine what he's accomplished or feels entitled to.

Asha being this castle worker who tries to get the position of working with the big man himself and does... only to learn his shady side. Much like how Disney fans find any position in the company to not be the dream job they thought it'd be before learning how deep the rabbit hole goes.

Asha finds another source of magic that grants wishes and unintentionally threatens Magnifico. Given the indie animation boom, it's hard to not see this as creators taking IPs into their own hands without the backing of big megacorps.

Magnifico delves into dark magic that depreive him more and more of whatever scruples he had left in order to quash this rebellion. I think we've seen too many examples of bigger companies trying to outdo the little guys via unethical means of increasing production for money.

The King utilizes the wishes to get more power. Gee, where have I heard the creation of others being stolen/locked away for personal greed? Know anything, Davey-boy?

Asha rounds up her friend to expose the truth. Many of them organize a way to stop this injustice while the King buy out one of their own to try and undermine them. Hmmmm. Anybody hear of any strikes that went on recently?

The climax involves the king's people collectively embracing their inner stars to stand up to the tyrant he's become. Again, strikes?

Hell, I can't help but feel like the Easter Eggs were as lowkey as they could if only so these elements could be highlighted. Surprising considering how nostalgia baiting has been en vogue lately.

But that's a grand chunk of my disorganized thoughts on a movie that I feel many will get worked up now but look back on with a touch more of appreciation. It's hardly the best movie ever and maybe a "Go Giant" ambitious film would have been a crowd pleaser.

But the movie is what it is. And I like it for what it is.

[sinkableruby]

on ougi tease flirts (araragi edition)

(also interjecting here this bit is a lot funnier in japanese. ougi is like "you're gonna be fallen in love with by me you know!" "uh" "it's gonna suck for you if i fall in love with you you know!"

like she's warning him. it's very funny to me

this from the onimonogatari commentary track is also significant:

now. nadeko says "too" (も) but when ougi replies she doesn't use that particle, instead saying 私は. は is the topic marker, so what ougi is saying is kind of like "well, as for me, i like araragi senpai." it's a subtle distinction ougi's making from her and nadeko here.

also, the translation for the next part is actually wrong here!

if you listen closely, ougi says GAKE, not KAGE. ougi does not say "i adore him from his shadow to his back," ougi says: お慕い申し上げているよ崖から背中を押したいくらい

which literally translates to "I adore him to the point I want to push his back off a cliff."

which sounds very scary and deranged.

and is. ougi wants to push araragi off a cliff. this is literally what she is saying. nadeko's "adore?" ("おしたいって。。。") should probably actually translate to "you want to push him...?" (they're homonyms) because ougi is being deranged and insane. she's so real tbh she only gets realer

but the idea of 背中を押す (to push one's back) in this case is also like, pushing someone forward, cheering them on. giving them the push they need to succeed. so, ougi wants to push araragi to where he needs to go, while also severely hurting him in the process. classic jeerleader ougi move

adore "慕う" is like... love dearly, adore, but can also be kind of like worship, honor, revere, idolize-- fitting because ougi is a big fan. she also says it very politely, because of course she is nothing but a polite and respectful kouhai. :)

but to me all this indicates ougi's feelings are something more platonic than romantic-- or maybe it's more like queerplatonic. ougi flirts teasingly but its not really meant to be taken as anything more than just that, a joke, hence ougi's strange almost non-sequitur response to nadeko's reaction. in other words, i think araragi is probably right on the mark when he says ougi is just teasing (or being malicious. never forget that a lot of (maybe even most of) what ougi does and says is criticism. it's entirely possible she's mocking him). though whether ougi would truly mind kissing araragi or not is left a mystery... what can be said for sure, though, is that she loves him very much.

[supremechancellorrex]

Now, I gotta say, I find it interesting how there are some people that target you for stating your opinion on fiction. I've had this same Jedi-stan user sending me tens and tens of comments which are based on denial and opinion rather than any logical argument. Now, they're telling others not to read my arguments because... what, it's too scary? They literally reblog my post with a quite insulting argument and then quickly block me because they don't want me to respond.

Well, too bad.

This isn't even an argument based on logic. You just stated your opinion and acted like it was a fact, anyone else who believes differently is doing so "foolishly", more "foolishly" than a child apparently. Because despite much evidence to the contrary in children's media, apparently 'villains' never have any depth or say the truth ever, according to you.

Slick: "Yes, she offered me money. But she offered me something more important, something you wouldn't understand: freedom!"

You know the one thing Slick doesn't actually have? It's freedom. Because, he is a slave, that is a fact. Let's go through the fact that slave isn't a title you award but a state of existence and being, a slave by definition is: "a person who is forced to work for and obey another and is considered to be their property; an enslaved person." That is the clones to a T. Just because Slick was selfish doesn't just invalidate he described a situation which still has not been refuted and instead has been only proven over and over again.

Now, you say "the clones are property of the Republic", and they are under the command... of the Jedi, who are generals and part of the Republic command structure. Legally, the Jedi may not have a say in the fate of the clone troopers other than being in charge of their daily actions and organisation for years, but illegally? Are you claiming that the Jedi could not even think to organise a mass desertion? When the law is unjust, you challenge it, you break it. Now, you try to absolve them here by saying that they had no choice because the Separatists were a threat to the Republic, an institution that supports slavery for its own ends. You may hate it but "Cool motive, still slavery" still applies here. Any institution that supports having an enslaved army does not deserve to exist, and that includes the Jedi Order's support of the Republic.

As for your non-sequitur on the placement of the episode, this is just pointless. There is no basis to discount an episode just because it wasn't in Season 4. This adds nothing to your argument and is just a complete fallacy.

You can't really make this argument on a number of basises. One, the writing intentions have clearly changed since that initial George Lucas' quote decades ago. Not only this, but George Lucas doesn't even own Star Wars anymore and Disney are now in charge, with Dave Filoni and a number of other writers making significant contributions.

Dave Filoni: "So I think that trying to draw these paths of the Jedi and the choices they make and how they wind up good or bad … Yoda isn’t afraid in the prequels to say the Jedi are flawed and that they’ve become greedy and self-interested and arrogant. That helps you understand why they’re going to lose the Clone War and why they’re so ripe for the picking."

I think this quote speaks for itself. Also, I think it was very clear that George Lucas, a man well-known for changing his mind and who was still the executive producer, was on Ahsoka's side in the Wrong Jedi Arc. Otherwise at some point the narrative would have refuted her assertions on the Jedi Order, that's just basic storytelling.

Now, onto the clones. You essentially admit that the draft is essentially slavery in the clones' case. The clones are property and are referred to as such, they can't leave, they can't vote, they have no rights and this has been the case since they were fetuses in tubes. Let's look at Umbara again.

Fives: "We did it. We took Umbara."

Captain Rex: "What’s the point of all this? I mean, why?"

Fives: "I don’t know, sir. I don’t think anybody knows. But I do know that someday this war is gonna end."

Captain Rex: "Then what? We’re soldiers. What happens to us then?"

Considering the fact that the Senate are voting on whether to "decommission" the clones like a product in the Bad Batch, I think it's safe to say that Captain Rex's fears were confirmed. Senator Riyo Chuchi, an actual good person in a bad system, is literally fighting to give the clones any rights at all in the Bad Batch, and she is a lonely voice.

Riyo Chuchi: "[The Clones] are not droids to simply be shut down. These are soldiers who defended us, defended our worlds"

Meanwhile, when the Jedi wax on about the end of the War, they just assume they'll be fulfilling the same duties they did before the war. This is because the Jedi are privileged and are treated as citizens during the War, able to walk around completely uncumbered and engage on a conversational level with the elite. They can also leave the Order, especially if they break the code, which is not something allowed for the clones. They may be servants, but they aren't property, and they have more tools to push back and fight the Senate, which they can walk around freely in a venerated position. You practically say this throughout your argument. Over all, the Jedi are drafted, the clones are slaves. There is a difference in the power dynamic.

The Clone Wars waived the right to be dismissed solely as "It's just a superificial kids show, don't criticise" when it decided to deal with dark, serious topics, including the Republic's growing authoritarianism, political maneuvering, slaughter and murder. All those cases of the Jedi challenging their leaders simply make it more egregious that the Jedi never advocated for the clones to the same level. The fact Mace Windu is willing to fight tooth and nail for the Zillo Beast, however demonstrates no passion to fight for the clone rights, who are slaves soldiers under his command, is actually a pretty bad look. There are also clones that died around the same time as Even Piell, yet they get no rites either.

It's funny you mention Qui Gon Jinn because his opposition to the Jedi Council has been noted previously and it is a critique of the Jedi Order.

Dave Filoni: "I think Qui-Gon in a lot of ways represents the kind of path the Jedi are supposed to be on. He’s the one that’s the most compassionate. But he has no ambition to be part of the council. He feels he can’t do what he needs to do if he’s a part of that. That thinking and that philosophy is from what Dooku taught him. Dooku was a free-thinker and was looking out for people."

Oh, you know Dooku too? The guy who said "The Jedi blindly serve a corrupt Senate that fails the Republic it represents." Looks like he imparted some spirit to his Padawan. Ultimately, this actually supports my arguments that the Jedi Order have lost their way as an institution. Now, earlier you say it "sucks" the Jedi can't allegedly speak out because of the draft, at the same time you... have Jedi speaking out on every topic that isn't clones. Hmm.

Well, mademoiselle-cookie, you have crossed into antisemitic territory here and it's shockingly disgusting of you. The Jedi should not be considered an expy of Jewish people, because that would be really racist of the writers and very misrepresentative. Jewish people are not a fictional order of magic monks that wave lightsabers around, fighting wars with state-owned clone slaves, believe it or not. Going through your argument until now has been bearable, but this really takes the cake. I've warned people to stop using real-life minority groups as meat-shields for their fictional favs, however it seems that privileged people will often use minority groups instinctively for their benefit. The fact you accuse me, a mixed race gay man, as being the type to fall for Nazi lies because I critique the Jedi Order is just the icing on the cake.

Also, you argue "it's a kid's show" and then it's a direct allegory for the Holocaust, one of the darkest periods in human history, at the same time, huh? If this were the case, it would mean it's portrayal is even more important to critique without exception.

But, moving on from your just completely inappropriate allegory. So, the Jedi have a "choice" as you just state. That's much more the clones ever had and that is a privilege. You're essentially arguing for the Jedi to stand back and do nothing by choice while earlier you also argued that the Jedi had to do something in regards to the War as it was the moral choice but also that they 'don't' have a choice. Meanwhile, the Jedi were shown to be willing to overthrow Palpatine given the 'proper motivation', but due to their lack of compassion I guess the enslavement of millions of men such as the clones just wasn't important enough. Your argument falls apart because the Jedi did try to overthrew Palpatine in the end, just not for the slaves.

Using the "Bad guys lie" trope in an absolute capacity is also not an argument. You're just stating your opinion as a fact again and it's very 'convenient' your metric. I could reply "Good guys can be wrong and don't always tell the truth" and we'd, like your point, get nowhere.

Finally, an interesting point. There's no denying that Ahsoka did not make the situation as squeaky clean in her desperation, however ultimately my point still stands that Mace Windu, and I quoted him, said "I understand your sentiment, Obi-Wan. But, if the council does as you suggest. It could be seen as an act of opposition to the Senate. I'm afraid we have little choice."

At the end of the day, the Jedi do have a choice despite what Windu says. The choice was political. The ruling isn't unanimous, because doubts are expressed, but as Mace Windu says what they view as important in response to Obi-Wan saying things don't add up regarding Ahsoka is to focus how it looks to the Senate, a Senate that supports authoritarianism, corruption and slavery. The Jedi arguably lie to themselves and say they support justice, but they don't ultimately. As Jedi Master Dooku, the described "free-thinker", says: "The Jedi blindly serve a corrupt Senate that fails the Republic it represents."

Hmm, you don't seem to understand what an "unreliable narrator" actually is. With your use especially, every single character ever could be described as an unreliable narrator, I can describe Mace Windu as an unreliable narrator or Obi-Wan. I could literally flip your argument and claim the Jedi are unreliable narrators who only think they're doing good because they were raised in an environment which told them this from a young age and ultimately they were propping up a failing, authoritarian, corrupt 'Republic'.

I don't think you realise that Ahsoka's story would not have been presented the way it was in Season 7 if the narrative was not on her side. There were key cues in its structure and quotations that were critical of the Jedi Order, who were mostly in opposition to Ahsoka narratively.

Ahsoka: "This is why the people have lost faith in the Jedi. I had, too, until I was reminded of what the Order means to people who truly need us.” 

What a coincidence that Obi-Wan, a man gifted with the gab, fails to counter this criticism as well. Just like Slick.

We literally see the Jedi propping up the Republic system for the near entirely of the War. They allowed "the destruction of innocent life-forms", the clones, men brainwashed and forced into combat. They also conducted military investigations, deferred to the Senate, and I think it's very telling that Rex did not reveal Cut Lawquane's location to either the Jedi or the rest of the Republic. As Generals, they are a part of the hierarchy, and they support the Republic, a hegemony of laws and demarcations. Also, last I checked, Satine isn't a slave, I only wish Obi-Wan had gone out of his way to protect the clones as people, but I guess he only does that for citizens.

As for Order 66, again, this isn't an argument on your part. I'm well-aware of events, nor did I say they deserved to be murdered. The Jedi Order, specificially their leadership, made "poor choices" and it screwed them over. I also find your Nazi allegory more disgusting personally, but whatever. Now, let's see what the Jedi are actually doing.

Dave Filoni: "They’ve, as an institution, existed for a very long time. It doesn’t mean they’re evil or bad, but they’re making a lot of poor choices, and they can’t get out ahead of things in part because they’re desperately attempting to do things the right way and take an even stance.”

The centrist stance the Jedi take on most matters clearly contributed to their downfall. They made "poor choices" and I am critiquing them for it because allowing slavery at the heart of the Republic is not just a poor choice, but a stupid and immoral one. They are 'desperately attempting to do things the right way', but they don't, and this is why actual criticisms are levied at them. Again, I never argued the Jedi were evil, I argued they should be held accountable for their flaws and mistakes, like everyone should be.

I like how you completely misunderstood my point here despite many other people getting it. The problem is that the Jedi do have a choice, it's just a difficult one. However just because doing the right thing is difficult does not mean you shouldn't do it. The problem with the Jedi allowing countless clones, who are slaves, to die for years and that not prompt them to confront, combat or even overthrow the Republic is it makes them very morally bankrupt. As soon as the Republic said it was going to utilise slaves, the Jedi should have realised the Republic was the enemy of human decency itself. But, as we know from just watching Star Wars media with basic critical thinking or this exchange in Rebels...

Ezra: "Master Yoda, you’re powerful. You must know a way to destroy Vader and his Inquisitors.”

Master Yoda: “Padawan, thousands of Jedi once there were. Then came war. In our arrogance, joined the conflict swiftly we did. Fear, anger hate. Consumed by the dark side the Jedi were.”

I think you need to add more depth to your idea of "good". The Jedi were complicit in their own downfall. The fact you have to jump through so many 'logical' hoops to 'explain' and 'absolve' them is evidence enough. The fact you also dismiss all criticism of the Jedi as anti-Jedi propaganda, even when coming from its own members, from Yoda to Ahsoka, who clearly the narrative sides with. Now, as for your 'the citizens did nothing too' whataboutism argument? Yep. So, if you're arguing the Jedi are as bad as Republic citizens who also enabled clone slavery, then sure, a little 'harsh' of you, but that's what you're actually saying here. Plus, you keep both stating the Jedi have a choice and don't have a choice when it suits you throughout this argument.

And, regardless of whether the SW writers verbally acknowledge the word slavery, it is the story they present by saying the clones are "property" who "have no representation in the Senate". You should watch the Riyo Chuchi episodes in Bad Batch again, because this should be impossible to miss in the discussion of "clone rights". Your attempted use of 'rhetorical' questions instead of an actual argument is also pretty uninspired.

You literally didn't "debunk" anything, mademoiselle-cookie. As usual, you used ad hominem attacks, misused terminology, made antisemitic allegories, and now you're upset someone expressed an opinion you dislike. The fact you warn other people not to read my opinion as if you're the guardian of Jedi stan tumblr and they couldn't bear having someone make a post they don't agree with is also hilarious, I would hope people are full of sterner stuff. After all, people always have a choice, whether to read or not.