#tell me his text are not exactly the kind of text that scholars love

[spoonietimelordy]

Might be a hot take but I 100% believe that Joey Batey's lyrics will be studied in English classes in like 50 years. He truly is one of the best lyricists of this decade.

[fueledbysano]

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊! bachira, nagi, rin, chigiri

blue lock boys giving you the second button of their uniform— a way of boys in Japan to express or confess their love for the person they admire. *second button: representing one's love

♱ ft. bachira, nagi, rin, chigiri

♱ content/warnings: gn!reader, university au, fluff, romance, making out.

♱ a/n: my blue lock debut piece! I'd love to write for a lot more of them but since this is my first time writing for the fandom, I'm trying out my skills first with my favorite boys. I really loved writing this one, here's for more!

♡ tags; @tokyometronetwork @blueparadis

♡ bachira

Bachira is a sports scholar of the university, which means he prioritizes his duties in the soccer team over academics. And you were an irregular student, since you came from a different university to shift majors. You have been friends with Bachira since the beginning of the semester because of your shared “weird” schedule compared to the other students in your year. When he is in the field, you’re on the benches, waiting for him to finish to attend your special class together, or just simply killing time together at a fast food or park.  Bachira genuinely thought that he'd be a loner when he first stepped foot in the university, but you made sure he never was. Which he appreciated in so many ways, so he started returning the favor by tailing you at all times too.

You weren't sure if it was simply a kind gesture, or he was genuinely intrigued with getting close with you. The thing is.. You were catching feelings for the boy. And it will change the course of your relationship. But you were actually the first one to confess.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” You turn to Isagi, a mutual friend of you and Meguru. “Really?” He sounded amazed, finally proud that you acted on your feelings towards Bachira. You have been telling Isagi about how you wanted to “confess” to Bachira without having to stress on a cheesy message that high schoolers do, until Isagi gave you an idea of giving Bachira your name tag, a form of confession of girls to boys in Korea.

“[ Y / N ], this is for you!” Bachira yelled from the field as he dribbled, then kicked the ball straight to the goal. You smiled at him and stuck your thumbs out to cheer him on. “It’s all going to go well. I think he likes you too.” Isagi said as he stood up. “Who knows, maybe you’ll spend Valentine’s together!” He teased before jogging back to the field.

You didn’t exactly plan on how you will hand your tag to him. Should you do it like the ones on TV? Call him to a special place and then hand it to him? You tried to think of different places as you walked down the halls, running your thumb over the embroidered letters of your name on the patch.

At the corner of your eye, you spot the lockers outside the gym. You stopped your tracks when you realized that Bachira had one of those. Searching for his name, you slipped your name tag in between the thin gaps of the locker and hoped for the best. 

That night, you shut your phone off out of anxiety and decided to check it by tomorrow, when he’s probably seen your little gift to him. However, your body froze when his name still didn’t show up in your messages. Hasn’t he seen it yet? Or, maybe, he did… You waited all day for a message, heck, for him to even knock on your door but there was nothing. 

What if he just didn’t know what it meant? Maybe he’ll just return it when you see each other again which is… in two days. However, when you showed up in the field on Monday, bachira was nowhere to be found. Isagi also mentioned that the boy was barely texting over the weekend, which was the last straw in making you panic.

“I dropped the name tag in his locker! What if— what if he saw it and he’s avoiding me now?!” You held onto Isagi’s shoulders. “Wait, what?!” He exclaimed. “Okay, maybe I am a pussy for not giving it in person—” You rambled, until you noticed that Isagi’s eyes trailed behind you. “[ Y / N ], someone’s looking for you.” He spoke. You look at him in confusion before turning to your back. Bachira had just arrived and quietly looked at you, and then went back to Isagi. 

“[ Y / N ], can we talk?” He finally asks. “Yeah, sure.” You were obviously nervous. You’ve never felt this tense with Bachira before, especially when the both of you were dead silent as you headed to the campus gardens. 

“Well, First of all, I’m sorry—” For what simultaneously felt like a second and eternity, your mind jumped into the worst case scenario— a rejection. However, your mind quickly went back to reality when he continued talking. “There were lots of clothes in my locker and I believe this got buried at the bottom.” He held your name tag up with a sly smile. “I got sick over the weekend and didn’t see it until this morning, so… I’m sorry.” He chuckled.

“Oh… yeah, no worries.” You casually chuckled. “No, I definitely made you worried. My bad.” He insisted. You stood for a moment and looked into each other's eyes in silence before he reached for his shirt pocket, and handed you something.

Now that he knows for a fact that you reciprocate his feelings, he was confident. Before he went to you, Bachira called his mom and she gave her just the right push to show you just how much he adores you the same way you did.

You felt your body heat up when you realized it was the second button of his uniform shirt, sitting on the palm of your hand. Bachira had a shy smile as he watched you react to his response. “So… it’s Valentine’s day tomorrow and… I was wondering if you want to go out with me…” Bachira thought it was perfect timing and reason to ask you out, something he’d been on the fence for over a while now.

“Well, we always go out, but, I want to—” You reached your hands up to Bachira’s soft cheeks and offered him your lips before feeling him pull your chin towards him gently and eventually envelop his lips with yours. You kissed fiercely, smiling at each other's mouths.

“Of course, I do.” You whispered and hooked your finger into his belt loop and pulled him into a deeper kiss

♡ nagi 

Nagi was quick to realize his feelings for you, especially after Isagi teased him for blushing when you practically threw yourself into him for a hug when the team you were cheering for won the game. He wasn’t particularly fond of all the blushing when he unexpectedly meets you in the hallways or trying to speak to you without his heart racing. 

So he decided on confessing to you, but he wasn't quite sure how. Nagi is a simple man, he wanted it forward, but memorable. The fact that he wasn’t sure of your romantic preferences was what makes him nervous and taking quite long. 

The thoughts of his confession continued to haunt him, he would overthink about different scenarios during practice, and one time he even messed up a level in his game because he thought of you thinking he was too corny. Thankfully, the boys cut him some slack as they understand what he’s going through, at the same time, helping him think of ways to confess and ensuring he is cool enough to pull you.

On the other hand, you were clueless why Nagi started to suddenly choke on his words around you, but you think it was cute. One thing you liked doing for Nagi is watching his soccer matches. He is highly motivated in the field and took the game seriously. But when you walk up to him with a bottle of energy drink after every match, he’s back to being the shy boy, especially when his teammates not-so-secretly cheer and holler at your little interaction. 

“Hey, Nagi? Wanna get something to eat before going home?” You looked up at him hopefully. You lived close to him, but he lived further away from the university than you did. So you often walked each other home for convenience. With the exception of the one incident when Nagi started dozing off and you had to tow him along while he was seated on a skateboard.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Fried chicken?” You grinned at him. At this, Nagi smiled a little, but said nothing more. You two walked slowly out of the campus, and towards the place. The rest of the time, as you both ate, you spoke about somewhat common subjects like your weekend plans or any antics of his teammates. 

Nagi was contemplating how he could get the most out of this conversation, despite how much he wanted to hear you exclaim with excitement about your plans. Maybe after all, you were the final push he needed for his confession all along. Your heart felt like it was going to catch fire as Nagi appeared to mirror the sea of emotion that was in your eyes while he carefully listened to what you had to say.

You both finished your meals, Nagi insisted on paying the check, and you left the restaurant into the chilly evening air. “What’s the occasion?” You giggle when you put your coat on, and then meet Nagi’s serious expression. 

If he’s not scared, he’s not taking a chance.

And if he’s not taking a chance… then what the hell is he doing?

“[ Y / N ]...”

“Yeah?” Nagi now had everything planned out. The dinner was his treat, and tomorrow after class, he'll simply let the button of his uniform speak to you. “I’m going to confess to you tomorrow so wait for me after school, okay?” The anxiety was long gone but most certainly not the honesty. You were equally amazed and perplexed by his words. It was already a confession, wasn't it?

“Oi, why are you all smiley?” Nagi still doesn't realize his mistake of blurting out what was on his mind. “Because…. You already confessed to me.” You chuckled, looking up at him with a thin smile. “Eh—” Nagi recalled the words in his mind and had an internal panic attack. “F-forget what I said—”

“No, I refuse to forget that.” You took a step closer towards Nagi before slowly taking his right hand that redeemed all the terror in his system. “Tell me…” You spoke softly, toying with the collar of his coat. And so with an exhale, Nagi pulled on the second button of his school uniform before taking it to your hand that was intertwined with his, “one’s most beloved person.” He decreed.

You felt Nagi's hands raise your chin up, and before you could say anything, you felt his lips on yours. As you moved your lips against his, he waited patiently for your consent before proceeding. At first, Nagi’s eyes were a tangle of turmoil and both of yours were wide with optimism. You move forward towards him and put your hands up around his neck as you close your eyes in happiness.

The risk was worth it.

♡ rin

Three weeks had already passed since you were left hanging by a potential love figure; Rin Itoshi. And up to this day, you still feel like being swallowed to the ground every time you recall the memory. It all started when you happened to share drinks with him at an afterparty, in celebration of the win of their team in the national tournaments.

And with the help of alcohol, you had his number by the end of the night and started talking to him since then. Rin isn’t too much of a dry texter like anyone would assume, but definitely isn’t talkative either. Your usual greetings and ranting about your professors grew into telling how each other’s days went, sending pictures of something cool you saw, and even an unexpected shirtless mirror selfie of him in the locker room after a game.

It was like winning the lottery, really. Knowing that other people at campus died to even get his attention. 

Just when things seemed to go smoothly with Rin, you finally agreed to go on a date together in a simple cafe just around the town.  However, when you arrived at the hour you agreed on, he was nowhere to be found. He never arrived that night, nor did you message him ever again; you were too embarrassed and angry to bitch out on him, knowing well that having hard feelings with Rin never ends well. 

So you ignored him on campus as best as you can. You were doing good with your mission, until the day of your senior trip arrived. You were unfortunately sat next to him on the bus.  Rin didn’t show it, but he was floored. He didn’t dare to spare a glance towards your way, and neither did you. He was the one who stood you up, why is he the one acting smug? Rin remained unbothered and had his eyes peered on the cars and trees passing by, oblivious of the dagger stares you were now throwing at him.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” He spoke up and offered you an ear bud, still not making sure contact. “Oh, so we’re talking again?” You blurt, audibly upset with him. “I’m being nice.” Rin sighed. “I don’t wanna watch your stupid movie.” You spat and turned your back to him. “Have fun getting bored for the next four hours.” He spoke smugly. “Dick.” You mumbled and threw your hoodie over your head.

Rin knows what you were doing. You had every right to act the way you do towards him, just as he anticipated. He knows that there was nothing he could do about it, so he didn’t bother to even plan out a conversation with you. However, He wished that he would have dealt with things differently. You did not deserve to be stood up on that date and it is unfair of him to act like nothing happened. For the first time in his life— Itoshi Rin was conflicted and unsure.

You slowly fell into slumber as the bus’ movement rocked you like a baby. However, you shifted halfway through your sleep and fell right onto Rin’s shoulder. He wasn’t oblivious of this, but let you get comfortable in his touch anyways. Rin felt tense, startled, even. And you weren’t even awake. He was debating whether to rest his head on yours too, but before he could act, the bus was already pulling over at the beach resort you were heading to.

You woke up feeling suspiciously comfortable, realizing where you have been sleeping for the last hour. “Thought I had to drag you out of here.” Rin already had your bags in his hand. You threw him a quick thanks before heading straight to your respective room, loathing how you let yourself fall asleep on Rin’s shoulder for god knows how long. He probably thinks that you’re still chasing after him.

Shortly, you were now dipped in the pool with your friends and classmates. You knew you had to emerge when your fingers started to prune. You were surprised that Rin didn’t come along, considering that his friends, Aryu and Tokimitsu, were around. You were ready to call it a night until some guys in your year invited you to their room for drinks. Everyone seemed to be headed there right now, but you weren’t particularly in the mood for partying.

“I’m gonna have to pass tonight. I hope there's one tomorrow?” You awkwardly smiled at the visibly drunk guys. “Come on, we’ll make sure you have fun alright.” One of them spoke and took you by the wrist. “H-hey, I said I’m fine.” You tried to turn but the other guys were already blocking your way. “Scram. Junichi, Keisuke.” A voice coming from the staircase startled the brothers.

“[ Y / N ]’s coming with me. Leave us.” Rin’s first instinct was to cover your soaked swimwear and skin with his varsity jacket. “I totally had that.” You scoffed. “Come on, not even a ‘thank you’?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m really upset with you, you know?” You blurt with a sigh. “You’ve made that very obvious.” Rin flatly spoke, before breathing out, “You’re the only one in this university to genuinely get my interest.” “I didn’t show up because… I wanted to be sure.”He added.  “Sure of what?”

He was forward, but you liked how he also conformed into the button-giving confession style. You weren’t sure if Rin had picked up on you being a hopeless romantic, but it worked. “Be mine.” Rin said with a heartstopping smirk that showed just enough of his smile, the button to his uniform pinched in between his index and middle finger. You had no words at Rin’s sudden confession. 

You felt your cheeks heat up as he leaned closer to you, slowly backing you against the wall. “Rin—” You whimpered at his touch, but his eyes glistened with adoration and lust, for none other than you. Rin leaned down slowly, his eyes only focused on your lips as he pressed his own softly to yours.

♡ chigiri

The most hesitant. He didn't really feel the need to tell you since he believed that his feelings for you were simply a passing infatuation, nothing more than a silly memory he would laugh about as you grow up. This just gave him the courage to openly express his feelings for you, which seemed to have succeeded given the energy you reciprocated.

However, when his accident happened, it was no secret that it took a toll on his career and relationship, including yours. Yet, it also truly astounded him and made him understand that you weren't simply just a silly crush.

You assisted him with his physical therapy when his family was unable to do so, you didn't get angry when he demanded space, you never missed an opportunity to distract him from his injury even just for the slightest second, and most importantly— you treated him in the same manner as before rather than looking at him with pity like other people might have.

You are the calm in the middle of the storm; and something about it just served to deepen his feelings for you. Chigiri believes that you made him better when he was back in the field in no time. However, bittersweet news came when he was offered an opportunity in Blue Lock.

You were often inside his mind during his entire stay in the project; wondering how you fared on your own, and also hoping that no one’s replaced his place in your life. 

So when he finished his goals at the project, he wasted no time in coming back home to his family, and you. However, a long time has passed and you have gone off to college in a different city. Chigiri's mother strongly encouraged him to follow suit and get a sports scholarship, considering that the term just started as well.

You missed Chigiri dearly, but proud of all his accomplishments in the Blue Lock project. So when you mother informed you that he had returned and is attending your university, you pulled every string you could to find out which program he took and where the hell he was; bringing you here to room 505 of the boys’ dormitory. “Damnit, it’s real.” The words barely came out of your mouth. Chigiri changed since the last time you saw him; the hair framing his face grew significantly longer, his body grew a more lean frame, and grew some height.

“[ Y / N ]!” Chigiri is floored, to say the least; finding you at his doorstep. He didn’t show it, but his heart was racing as you studied each other’s faces. He had been meaning to look for you but getting settled in took much of his time, but here you were now. “Mom told me that you went here and I never really saw you around—”

“It’s okay.” Chigiri held you in a big embrace and let you giggle over his shoulder before uttering a quick “Hi.” “So, I heard that you just got in?” You asked “Yeah.” “I never knew you were coming home.” You admitted. “Well, we have time before the next cup.” Chigiri explained, rubbing soft circles on your back.

“I’m so proud of you.” You smiled before pulling away. “How about we get some karinto and I’ll show you around?” You offered. “They serve karinto here?!” He exclaimed, mouth almost watering at the thought of his favorite dish that he hasn't had in so long. “Why else do you think I chose this school?” You remarked. “I’ll get my coat!”

You didn't seem to run out of things to tell the boy as you walked around the campus while he stuffed his mouth with the sweets. and neither did he; telling you about the friends and enemies he's made inside the project. “Everyone pretty much minds their own business here so you’re free to sleep or cry.” You were at the final stop on your tour and were pointing out the library to Chigiri through the window.

“Speaking from experience?” He teased. “Yes. Simultaneously.” You shamelessly admit, earning a laugh from him. “So, that’s about it.” You concluded before tossing the dessert packaging in the bin. “That was way better than the campus tour the president gave me.” Chigiri mumbled. “You already had a tour?!�� You scolded. “Of course. I’m a celebrity now.” He winked. “Besides, I wanted a reason to spend time with you.” Chigiri laughed. “You’re so corny.” You hit a playful punch on his arm. “Let me tell you about the time when an opponent asked me what shampoo I use right before a match…”

After making another round trip around the campus, you returned to Chigiri's dormitory just as his story came to an end. “So, this is you.” You smiled as you stopped at his doorstep. “Yup. Right where you picked me up.” Chigiri remarked, wishing he could come up with something to stay with you longer. “It was really good to see you again.” You sighed and embraced him once again.

You almost melted in his presence when he returned the embrace while you felt his muscles hug you delicately. “I missed you.” He chuckled at the sudden affection. “I missed you too.” Your warmth made it impossible to leave. “Good night, Chigiri.”

Chigiri couldn’t get himself to open his door without you by his side. All the “what if’s” haunted him all at once as he watched you walk away slowly. He knows that you have some time together, but he wouldn’t let another chance slip again.

So with a deep sigh and a strong pull on his uniform button, Chigiri called for your name.“[ Y / N ]!”

“Oh, thank god.” You mumbled to yourself before practically sprinting to the man.  “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Chigiri professed, taking your face in his hands. “I’m scared… I’m scared as hell to want you, but I’m here wanting you anyway. And the fear means I have something to lose, right? I don’t want to lose you.” He stammered and pressed his forehead against yours in a delicate embrace.

“And I’ve always liked you.” He opened his eyes and put his button in your own hand. “I like you too,” You gladly accepted his confession before finally closing the gap in between your lips. For a brief moment, he felt relief in his embrace before the kiss turned fierce. Chigiri blindly reached for the door knob before the door gave way and within a second, he already had you pinned on the other side of it.

[breelandwalker]

heyyy, good natured question here: because i kind of think ignoring how incredible the tarot system built by waite is, just because it uses symbols from different religions is quite limiting. when i compared pre waite decks to his creation there really is s lot that doesnt quite have as much meaning. i feel like a lot of the pre golden dawn decks are more focused on mundane and fortune telling. while waites system is actually very mystical and its more of a system than what ive observed otherwise. this is just my own pbservation but i wonder what you think about it. i of course would neever propose any deck to a person who feels uncomfortable with what it depicts, especially when it concerns religions. but i feel like a lot of the new hip and aesthetic tarots kind of miss out on a whole lot of mysticism, symbolism and meaning. they become a bit watered down if you know what i mean? wonder if anyone else feels this way

Oooo, let me get my Witchstorian hat....because there is some TEA here.

The association of tarot cards with various types of mysticism goes back to 18th-century France. The decks existed in Italy before then, as playing cards for various types of trump-style games, some of which are still played on the peninsula today. A French scholar by the name of Antoine Court de Gebelin, who is considered the grand-daddy of many later occultist philosophies, published a piece in 1781 on the allegedly-ancient origins of the symbols on tarot cards. He claimed that Ancient Egyptian priests had encoded their sacred text, The Book of Thoth, into tarot cards and that if a person knew how to read the symbols properly, they could unlock all of human knowledge.

Fun Fact: Gebelin knew precisely jack shit about Ancient Egypt. The language on the ancient papyri hadn't even been translated yet when he put forth these ideas (and once it was, none of it supported his claims). But Gebelin was very popular and he was a white guy in colonial academia, so nobody was asking inconvenient questions.

The same year, another French guy wrote an essay that posited that one could map the 22 Major Arcana cards onto the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet. This eventually led to members of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn creating the Rider-Waite deck with Hebrew lettering and the tetragrammaton, because they were Ob.Sessed. with Jewish mysticism even though none of them were actually Jewish.

The Order created the first modern standard set and the rules for reading them in 1909-1910, and these were later expanded upon by Eden Gray in the 1960s, which gives us the tarot as we know it today.

There's a lot more to the story of tarot than this, but that's the TL;DR version of how the cards became mystical and why some decks include Jewish symbols. Which, quite frankly, they shouldn't, mystical associations or no.

If you're interested in the full story, you can check out the August 2021 episode of my podcast, Hex Positive - "The Trouble With Tarot." I wrote it in response to a then-prevalent argument that tarot originated with the Romani people and that the use of the cards was culturally protected. (Spoiler alert: they didn't and it's not, but I do address the connection in the episode.)

Personally, I don't feel like artistic decks water down the practical use of the cards anyway, but I do find that people connect more strongly to some decks. I love my Visconti-Sforza deck with its' classical artwork and old symbols, and I love my Golden Nouveau deck with all the flowery, flowy paintings. And I learned to read on the Faery Wicca tarot deck, which is exactly as fluffy and ridiculous as it sounds, but I love that one too.

So really, I think it's all a matter of personal preference. If the artwork and symbolism in a deck doesn't resonate with you, that's probably going to feel kind of useless to you personally. But somebody else might pick it up and go, "Wow! This is exactly what I've been looking for!" and have great success with their readings. To each their own.

Hope this helps!

[shakesqueers13]

Hi there!

This might seem odd, but I wanted to ask something as a fellow Shakespeare fan. It’s more on my behalf, truly.

Next year I will be going to a school in England (don’t know which yet) to focus on acting, specifically classical acting if I can. I love Shakespeare and classical works immensely, and I would just love to dedicate my life to it.

Not to reveal myself, haha, but I’m only 18 years old. While I love Shakespeare, and I think I can generally understand what one monologue says, it does take me multiple readings of the text to understand the plot and even longer to analyze the text within the entirety. It makes me feel kind of stupid, because so many other Shakespeare fans seem to be able to pull this texts out, with great analysis (yourself included) and for me, it takes an embarrassing amount of time.

I have an opportunity to maybe direct a show, and I’m stuck between Richard III and Cymbeline, but fear I’m too dumb to understand the text properly.

I know this is probably just my insecurity, but the reason I wished to ask at all is to wonder if that’s just me? Do other Shakespeare fans struggle to get it, and have to work at it? Even when I watch productions, I have to really really focus to understand each bit or I get lost (though watching is easier to comprehend)

Perhaps I’m just not intelligent enough to get it quicker, and not as a dig but a reality. Regardless, I love the work and I strive to understand it though I fail.

Hope this isn’t too insecure/pick me!! Just thought it was worth the ask. Thanks for keeping the stories alive :)

Hi!

It’s funny you sent in this ask because just last night I was thinking I should make a post about how there’s absolutely no shame in struggling to understand Shakespeare. I think it’s one of those things where every Shakespeare student secretly thinks they’re the worst at understanding/reading Shakespeare, but that’s totally not true. Everybody struggles, myself included. Shakespeare wrote in such an elevated level of voice that not even most Elizabethan citizens would’ve been able to understand a lot of what he said when they were watching his plays — he was making up words left and right.

I think everyone has to read the text multiple times to grasp the full meaning, and if they don’t, they’re probably missing out on a lot of important stuff. People wouldn’t still be getting PhD’s and publishing research about Shakespeare if we already knew exactly what he meant by everything he wrote.

I definitely struggle to understand Shakespeare a lot of the time. I’m dyslexic so reading the words off the page can be really difficult for me - I almost never read any Shakespeare for the first time off the page, I always try to watch a version while I read. Some other practical tips are to use the OED (Oxford English dictionary) to look up words from the year the play was published because it tells you what archaic words meant at the time. You can also just Google passages you don’t understand and often an explanation will come up. Finally, if you can afford an annotated edition of the complete works, like the Norton edition or the Folger editions, that will be very helpful as well.

I would also caution you if you’re getting the majority of your Shakespeare information from tumblr because a lot of people on tumblr sadly post misinformation, or theories with no textual support. It’s unfortunate but I see it happening a lot with Hamlet. If someone posts something that throws you off and doesn’t seem quite right, either ignore it or triple check it. You can use Google Scholar to find reliable articles—just type in Google Scholar and search articles from there with whatever subject you want, like “Ophelia’s death” or “Shakespeare’s late romances.”

Also, from your ask I’m guessing you’re still in high school? Unfortunately it’s quite hard to learn a lot about Shakespeare without taking specific, focused classes in university. My knowledge and love of Shakespeare grew about 1000% my first semester in college when one of my professors taught Richard III and I actually got the opportunity to study with a professional. The thing is, there’s really no substitute for studying with a professor who you can ask questions and who can explain exactly what they mean. The more you study Shakespeare, the more sense things will start to make.

All in all, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Just take the texts line by line and work away at them until it makes sense. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself to learn this stuff while you’re still in high school or about to start college. Watching the plays while you read will be your best asset.

Lmk if you have any more questions. Good luck!

[heraldofcrow]

Can you tell us more about 'Choir member found in Yahar'gul was Caryll' idea? This sounds fantastic! (I am not a fan of dead hunter in Hemwick interpretation as well btw, that corpse is *TOO* bluntly shown to be normie Yharnam hunter, not even the Old/Church one, and Caryll was a scholar, not a commoner!)

HI I AM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!! <3

—

I really had to think on exactly why I feel like this headcanon would work so well, and honestly, I think I figured it out.

I hope you don’t mind, but I kinda want to share my overall headcanon for who exactly Caryll was before I just jump straight into his death, haha. I have been developing my thoughts on him a lot recently, and you and Fantomette have really inspired me to think about this character. I really appreciate that!!

So, here we go!

Since this is an opportunity to share the portrait I made for him…

(Update: This portrait and text is from February when I first drafted this answer lol. I wanna redraw with better anatomy, but whatever, you get the idea.)

You’ll have to forgive me, because I’m really still learning to draw faces up close and it is…tough. I’m also still in that “Picrew” stage for portraits lmao.

As you can see, I’ve adopted the red hair headcanon from you and Fantomette, because I think it suits him, and I also am down with the idea that he was from Cainhurst (pre-Vilebloods). Yes, he also does very much have that docile “lil guy” energy that makes him so bloody endearing to us all. I feel like every depiction of Caryll has a bit of that, and mine being a mix of many is no exception.

My thoughts on his origin have changed a lot, but I have a general story nailed down now, and I would like to first acknowledge a key factor to how I see his character.

So, you know how you see him as an artist? I absolutely love that idea, and I think it fits quite well. Him being the painter of the Cainhurst portraits and all. I tend to adopt the headcanon, but for this particular interpretation, I will have to go with my original view, and that was the idea that he was a musician. Both artist and musician fit him, honestly, but something stands out to me about “transcriptor” or “copyist.”

He was…transcribing sounds onto paper…

Just as someone who comes from a family full of musicians, this is such a familiar idea. I am still baffled how some of my family members can hear a note, know exactly what it is, and then convert it into sheet music on paper. They transcribe entire songs like this. I dabble in music, but I’m not formal about it by any means, and I still can’t read sheet music, so people who can impress me. They are essentially writing down the sounds they hear, and making a language of symbols out of it. Some music notes even look like runes!

So, to me…that was Caryll. A prodigy musician, and kind of like the Mozart of Byrgenwerth. I think he wrote “Ave Stellar,” aka the true Choir theme that only plays for the Living Failures because of how they “hail the stars” in their fight. But come on, we all know that song slaps so hard because it’s the Choir’s theme and not some blue aliens theme, haha. I’d say Caryll wrote Ebrietas’ theme as well (Oh Fair Maiden, Why is it That You Weep?), and all of the hymns they sang in the Cathedral.

Furthermore, I think he was just a genius in general, and it was his journey alongside Rom that led to his demise.

—

Before I explain what I think their story was, let me add an interlude and detail a bit about how I see Rom and Micolash.

Rom is absolutely Micolash’s younger sister in my mind, so we all share that theory! I call them the Spiderlings, or the Spider Twins. I think they were Willem’s abandoned children, and that idea comes from my keen interest in how Willem and Micolash were connected in alpha Bloodborne.

Some examples being how “The University Professor” boss remains were originally found with Micolash, or how they share a voice actor in-game. Also how Micolash’s model is the one being used in the “Laurence betrays Willem” sequence, or how they both have this weird link to Rom and Kos and the pursuit of eyes. They all just seem like relatives to me, and at least in development, they were closely associated.

(Update: We have since also discussed the theory on how Kos could have taken Rom from Willem just as Willem took the Oprhan from the shore, right? Oh the drama. Meanwhile, Micolash thinks Rom was just blessed.)

From these extremely minuscule details, I just ran with the theory that Willem had a wife at some point, had two children during the early days of Byrgenwerth, lost his wife, and basically forgot about the kids.

You know how you see them as orphans? To me it’s a similar type of situation. They were just neglected, and Willem didn’t bother to even try to get them into the school because he didn’t want nepotism to become an issue.

That’s why I imagine Mico and Rom growing up around the school as loners and “the weird kids” that most people didn’t even know were related to Willem. But fortunately, they were brilliant children and became extremely successful academics. Rom was an autistic savant who struggled socially, and was dubbed a fool for it, but she thrived in her own world of study and was secretly the smartest kid in that whole damn school.

Mico was just dangerously intelligent in a chaotic way and was naturally gifted with medicine and anatomy, and DAMMIT I REALLY WANT TO MAKE A POST FOR THEM BUT GRRRR.

I can’t do this on Caryll’s post, so that’s the jist for Mico and Rom’s origin. I’ll leave it at that, and I’ll add that Caryll grew up with them and he was like…the only family they had. Rom and Caryll in particular were very close.

—

When the Byrgenwerth split happened, Mico went to work in the Research Hall with Rom, while Caryll went with Laurence to start building up the Church. Somewhere in the interim, Rom was granted her eyes like we have discussed, and I am totally on board with the idea that, “The trouble began there.”

In short, Rom and Mico were those siblings blessed with arcane infusion, but Rom was the one to start drawing nearer to Kos and the lake. The following chaos, Rom’s desire to find her own group, and Mico’s treatment of the Research Hall patients eventually led them to abandon it all.

Afterwards, the Research Hall was, in my theory, flooded and ruined around the time of Maria’s death, which meant that Mico was without a “home base” if you will, and wanted to go recreate a mini Byrgenwerth in Yahar’gul with Rom, Damian, and the newly recruited Archibald, who I speculate was beginning to run his own operation in Yahar’gul around the time.

This was the infant stage of The School of Mensis, but it didn’t quite blossom at that point because Rom wanted to help Caryll build up his own league of scholars, and that was The Choir. Micolash was conflicted about whether he wanted to help his sister or start his own school. It was a love/hate type thing.

Meanwhile, Caryll was working with Yurie, his lab partner, and trying to figure out the link between sound and The Great Ones. He believed that a wall of human voices could produce enough sound to mimic a Great One’s voice, and so his brainchild was the church choir, all of whom he recruited and trained to harmonize in such a way that they could sing out singular words with specific clarity.

Around this time, Laurence also began to convert the Research Hall into an Orphanage where the lost children of Yharnam could be raised. Caryll had also discovered Ebrietas below the collapsed remains of the Research Hall, and arranged with Laurence for the location to be easily accessible. They agreed, and Caryll began his operation with his newfound Choir. I think he also invited Rom to join him and Yurie to take care of the orphans as well, because he knew she herself cared greatly for neglected and parentless children.

Caryll, Rom, and Yurie became a tight-knit trio after that, with Rom eventually taking the position of Choir “conductor” due to her bond with Ebrietas and Caryll and Yurie becoming composers, as well as transcriptors/writers. Their work was unparalleled. This is when the Call Beyond, the Auger of Ebrietas, and the Choir Bell were all invented. Caryll, Rom, and Yurie were just too powerful together, and you can imagine how much Laurence and the higher-ups appreciated their work.

But then Micolash ruined everything.

As he does.

Anyway, I headcanon that Micolash basically hated Caryll and was jealous of his close relationship with Rom because of unhealthy sibling attachment issues. Mico worked with them in the Choir for a while, but soon lost interest and took Damian to officially start running things in Mensis. Things were tense for years, with Mico definitely abusing members of the Choir and treating them like trash, but when Rom ascended, he lost it completely. Somehow he had both hated and loved her with a strange, unhinged passion. His resentment, rejection, and grief over her pretty much drove him insane. And yes, he absolutely put a lot of the blame on Caryll for “stealing her.” But hell, Mico blamed everyone. Even Ebrietas.

Rom’s absence, or to simple human minds, “death” was the catalyst for all the tragedy that followed. That’s when it basically turned to war between Mensis and the Choir. Yurie was sent to guard Rom’s lake, and Caryll was left alone to keep everything running, but as we know, people got desperate and violent. Caryll couldn’t handle the guilt over what had happened to Rom, or his orphans, or his scholars at the hands of Micolash. He lost heart, his compositions became darker, and eventually he was left unfit for his position.

That’s when he was captured by a Snatcher, brought to Yahar’gul, and gleefully tortured by an insane Micolash. It ended when Mico shocked him to death with the Tiny Tontritus we can find right outside the jail cell in that chest. Caryll put up hardly any resistance and believed that he deserved the torment. He was far more gentle-hearted than the others, and when the people he was meant to look out for were killed or hurt, he tended to sink into deep depression and self-hatred.

Poor bastard.

I think it fits perfectly. This Choir person in the cell has been rotting there for a while, as we can see. It almost feels as though they were a monument to another time. The first true victim of Mensis. Caryll.

After his death, the Choir took a darker turn, and the lingering authorities raised many of the orphans to be brainwashed lackeys of the once glorious faction. I believe Edgar was one of these children, doomed to fall into Micolash’s claws in his later life. The other Orphans ascended to become Celestial Emissaries.

Really, this all started because of some neglected siblings and a very jealous brother who decided to wreck everything lmao. Caryll was just collateral damage. I love that kind of tragedy, if you can’t tell.

—

This was perfectly timed, or rather, Alex Roe’s new Choir/Mensis album was because it finally gave me that last burst of inspiration I needed to explain where my head was at with this story. Alex actually wrote a theme for Caryll on this one too! It’s amazing, and “Dream Beyond the Cosmos” is what I was listening to when explaining Caryll’s death. It made me so sad, man :(

Anyway, sorry again for how long this took. I just had a crazy semester and it drained so much of my writing energy, but I’m starting to get my motivation back now…

Let me know what you think!

[merrybandofmurderers]

tagged by @fade-and-loathing-in-thedas. managed to dig up something i haven't shared yet from the family visit of the pavellan fic

Late one night, Dorian stepped out of his tent to relieve himself. On his way back, Anavi appeared at his side, as soundlessly as Lavellan always did. Thankfully, Dorian managed to stifle his cry of surprise.

“Good evening,” he said.

Her smile quirked, and Dorian got the distinct feeling she was laughing at him. Despite their near opposite personalities, it seemed Lavellan and his sister were not so different, after all.

“Can I help you with something?” he asked, as they arrived at the edge of camp.

“Your practice of necromancy is different than I have seen before,” she remarked lightly.

It was not the conversation Dorian was expecting, but he would not disoblige her. “I’m from Tevinter,” he said.

“I had noticed,” she said, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“I did learn from the texts of Nevarran Mortalitasi scholars but had the freedom to experiment with my own style.”

“A style that seems to involve many unnecessary flourishes,” she remarked.

“Perhaps,” Dorian sniffed. “But without them, I would look far less magnificent.”

“And you cannot have that,” she said.

“It seems you’re beginning to understand me.”

A delicate brow arched at that, exactly as Lavellan’s did when he was being judgmental. “It certainly seems to work on Yuo, nevertheless.”

“Excuse me?” Dorian asked, taken off guard.

“But then,” she continued, “he’s always liked flashy shows of power.”

Dorian fumbled for something to say. “Is that so?”

“I confess, I was surprised when he told me he had a Tevinter altus among his ‘Inner Circle’.”

“Ah, yes,” Dorian scoffed. “Because there are none from Tevinter who might be compelled to help save the world.”

She laughed, sharp, derisive, and lovely. “I expect very little from humans, regardless of nationality. You will always only do what you want. What surprised me was that Yuo took you to his side.”

Dorian was quiet.

“My brother is not the trusting kind, least of all of your kind.”

Dorian snorted. “You do not need to tell me that.” “What’s most surprising is not just that you managed to earn his trust, but that he gave you the chance to. Quite unusual,” she mused. “It is a rare thing for Yuo to surprise me.”

tagging @mrs-theirin, @calicostorms, @ringneckedpheasant, @transfenris-truther, @midnight-octopus

[moviemunchies]

Being the owner of an English degree, I get alerts whenever there’s a big Shakespeare movie or television show that comes out. And of course everyone wants to do something with Romeo and Juliet, because that’s the most famous Shakespeare play. So I was a bit interested in this project when I started seeing trailers for it.

Rosaline tells the story of Rosaline, the mysterious Capulet woman Romeo was in love with before he met Juliet. Rosaline, upon finding out that her secret boyfriend has ditched her for her cousin, decides to break the two of them up by any means possible. Meanwhile, Rosaline’s father has been desperately trying to get her engaged to a man, any man, much to Rosaline’s chagrin. Though his last attempt isn’t quite as bad as the usual senior citizens.

This is a movie that’s quite fun for people familiar with Romeo and Juliet. Mind you, I don’t think it’s a deep dive into the text–there’s nothing about the movie that makes me think it was written by, or used research from, any Shakespeare scholars. There are some jokes regarding the original text, but there are a lot of things changed as well. Which is probably best for the tone that the movie’s going for–it would probably have quite a dark final act. That’s just not what this movie is.

What Rosaline does best is that it’s a comedy about a side character in Romeo and Juliet trying to take hold of her own destiny. It’s a silly movie, overall, but it’s also loads of fun. I know plenty of people reading Romeo and Juliet felt that they would do a better job if they were in the story and were able to affect the events. I know I certainly did at the time (I did not enjoy reading the book very much in eighth grade).

The resulting film is certainly loads of fun, and it’s satisfying for the most part, but it’s not particularly clever. For instance, there’s a really nice moment towards the end in which Rosaline’s father helps her in her hour of need, but he’s not actually been that supportive for most of the movie. It’s a nice, heartwarming moment, but it doesn’t feel entirely earned in the movie itself because I don’t think it’s gotten quite the proper buildup.

Still, it is loads of fun, and it does have some neat character work. Rosaline isn’t presented as being the perfect person who would have fixed all of the story’s problems–in weirdly Shakespearian fashion, she’s part of what causes a lot of the problems in the first place, and it takes a while for her to own up to it.

It’s another one of those movies that you feel like you’ll get exactly what you expect from watching the trailer. It is a lot better of a film than another Hulu original I said that about, The Princess, and a lot more complex. (And The Princess wasn’t aiming to be that deep of a movie anyway, so that’s not to slam that movie.) 

And also–it IS a bit of a romantic comedy, so there is a romance arc. If you were expecting this to completely lampoon all ideas of romance, then sorry, Rosaline has a love interest that’s not Romeo. Which is fine, because Romeo kind of sucks.

The movie deconstructs Romeo as a love interest in some interesting (if fairly obvious ways). He’s not a bad guy in this film, but he isn’t all there, not precisely a practical sort of guy you can depend on. Part of his appeal in the first place was him being one’s lover in a secret relationship, but once you take that away, what does he really have going for him?

So I enjoyed this film. I didn’t think it was brilliant in terms of reworking the Shakespeare story, but I did find it massively entertaining. If you need a relaxing comedy lampooning Shakespeare, or never really liked Romeo and Juliet in school to begin with, you’ll probably have a lot of fun with Rosaline.

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Do you think Peeta felt like he was receiving mixed signals from Katniss during CF? Or did he always assumed she had no feelings for him and accepted that?

I’ve always been so curious about his thought process after the first games and their reconciliation for the Victory Tour.

I wonder if he ever felt used by her, even if he loved her. 😭

Hey there, Anon! Thanks for the questions!

Okay I’m gonna apologize up front, Anon. Actually no. I’m not apologizing for this. I’ve been prepping myself to write an entire essay, but before I post it, I feel like I gotta throw up some disclaimers here. And honestly... I shouldn’t have to, but it’s been awhile since I’ve been active on here and I’m still kinda smarting over the things that happened that led to me reducing my involvement in the first place. And tumblr and fandom being what they are... please forgive me for building some fences to hopefully protect myself. You, Anon, have not triggered this initial commentary with your message. It’s leftover baggage, not your fault (I don’t think...*suspicious eyes*), so I hope you will understand and not be upset that I feel the need to do this before answering your questions.

We members of fandoms and denizens of tumblr usually state our meta posts and analysis posts as though they are fact. Not that this is necessarily a bad practice. I just spent three weeks writing two and a half literary analysis papers for my classes. I’ll spend the next two weeks polishing the last of those off and probably starting on an entirely new one because I gotta turn right around and produce three 10-page research papers by the end of November. And guess what... literature professors never EVER want you to "maybe" or "possibly" or "seemingly" your way through an argument. Write with authority, they say. Not because you are arguing that your interpretation is THE RIGHT interpretation so much as you are making a case for your interpretation being THE MOST APT or the most applicable. They require strength of speech because your argument is inherently weakened by using less than definite wording. It is this because of that. Much more convincing than “Well it might be...”

Funny thing about literary scholars, despite their insistence on making your analysis in strong language, a lot of them are willing to listen to different takes and go “Huh. Interesting. I can see the possibilities. Tell me more,” while still holding a vastly different interpretation of their own. In other words, they accept that someone else’s interpretation does not undermine their own. We all do not, and really should not, think exactly the same way. How fucking boring would that be if we did???

In a fandom space, we often write our meta posts in language similar to what a literature student would be expected to write. In definite terms. It is this because of that. You also see it in literary critiques and also movie critiques. And a lot of times, this causes friction because sometimes when people read those meta posts, they take it as a personal attack on their own, different interpretation, as though OP is suggesting that their version is The Right Answer and everyone else is wrong. Which is really not always the case. Even in the sense that we often use those phrases of “I’m right” or “That’s just how it is I don’t make the rules” or “You can’t convince me otherwise,” a lot of time that’s fandom speak for our attachment to certain idea or theory or way of thinking about the text and the characters. In literary terms... those kinds of remarks are hyperbole. Not a direct attack on anyone. Where it becomes problematic is when a fandom member takes that language of fandom literally and/or uses it against another fandom member rather than as a way of expressing our enthusiasm. Or when it turns into an attack on someone’s reading comprehension... the idea that “If you don’t see it my way then you didn’t read the books.” “You’re just projecting onto the characters.” “Any idiot can see...” “If you don’t see it then you don’t belong here.” “Go read other stories/characters.” “Stay out of the tags...” “You’re ruining the characters/my OTP...”

That’s not... that’s not helpful. That kind of attitude stifles free flowing ideas and leaves no room for growth. No room for pretty much anything but one viewpoint. Which will inevitably lead to the shrinking of whatever fandom community is left years after our base content was created. I truly believe that best practice on here is to step back when something upsets you or angers you and ask “How does this really affect me? Am I pissed off because this person is actually hurting me or am I conflating a differing opinion with a personal attack?”

All of this is a convoluted way of saying that even if my words (as I finally get around to answering your question) sound like I'm saying "I'm right, everyone else is wrong," that's actually not the case. Not at all. It's a mother freaking opinion, even if it’s stated like it’s fact. And I’m a big enough girl to be fully aware of it, and know that there will be plenty of people who disagree or see it differently. Great! Wonderful! Nobody has to agree with me. Literally no one. But nor do I appreciate it when others take a swing at me, or at others on here, without granting other people the right to our own opinions or expecting me to edit down my voice just because they don’t agree with me.

DISCLAIMERS DONE! In case you skipped over them. ;)

I think a lot of us are curious about Peeta's thoughts and feeling throughout the series, which is pretty natural. Since all three books of the original trilogy are narrated from Katniss's first person POV, all we ever see is what she chooses to show us. Every character is portrayed through her view, and that affects how we view them. As readers, we have choices to make on how we view the Not Katniss characters. We could assume that Katniss gives us an accurate and full portrayal of all of them... a risky proposition given that she is a flawed character and an unreliable narrator. So really, Katniss isn't always giving us The Right Answer. She’s not omniscient by any stretch of the literary imagination. She is not God, or whichever higher being you might believe in. Which opens the entire series to the possibility of varying interpretations.

Where Katniss gives us only hints and clues, readers have the opportunity to extrapolate, imagine, and explore the possibilities of characterization; and quite frankly since Suzanne Collins left those details out, her intention is not necessarily more important than your interpretation. She set her work out on the sea of readers and capitulates control of how it is received and interpreted. Hello Death of the Author. But you know, that’s like my personal opinion on the matter and it’s influenced by how I view my own writing. Yeah, I meant one thing and if people ask me what I intended, I’ll tell them, but I have no intention of shitting on someone else’s interpretation of my writing. Dude. To me, that’s the beauty of being a writer -- the fact that you can create something, set it adrift, and a complete stranger might see something that you yourself never thought of before. HOW FREAKING COOL IS THAT?!?!

So how does this apply to Peeta? Well... Peeta is his own character. Yes, we get to see him through Katniss’s eyes, but that means, as I said before, that we only see the things that Katniss notices or that pertain directly to her in terms of the action on the page. The text being the text with a limited first person narrative leads me to the conclusion that Peeta led his own life completely separate of Katniss. He did things, said things, made friends, had fights with his brothers, a relationship with his parents, maybe even kissed a girl or two, was motivated to act completely independent of Katniss and in ways that don’t exist directly on the page, because Katniss herself doesn’t always see them or comment on them directly.

“It’s exactly like that!” he yells at me. “I have people I care about, too, Katniss! Family and friends back in District Twelve who will be just as dead as yours if we don’t pull this thing off.” -- Catching Fire, chapter 5

And if we’re willing to grant Peeta his own life, we have to be willing to grant him his own feelings. Personally, I have never subscribed to the interpretation that everything Peeta did in the first book was out of romantic love for Katniss. *shrug emoji* For example, I’m of the opinion that the gift of burned bread was, if an act of love, an example of agape, or the love of everyone, of humanity. At that point, Peeta had never even spoken to Katniss, and I don’t believe a romantic love can be viably formed and maintained without some form of communication, otherwise, you don’t really know the person. But I do believe that 11 year old Peeta was able to feel compassion and enough love for a fellow human who was suffering (and yes also happened to be the object of his crush), to make a form of sacrifice in giving her the bread.

I also (unpopular opinion alert) believe that the same form of agape love  influenced his motivation to form a strategy for his first Games that revolves around saving his district partner at his expense. I’m not saying that the fact that it is Katniss, his crush, going into the arena with him played zero part in his choices in the first book. I’m suggesting that his crush on Katniss was only part of his motivation for working to get her on the Victor podium and himself in a coffin.

“It doesn’t matter, Katniss,” he says. “I’ve never been a contender in these Games anyway.”

.......

“Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to... to show the Capitol that they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their Games,” says Peeta. -- The Hunger Games, chapter 10

Alright let’s dig. First I want to say that the setting here is important. They are on the roof of the training center, and the roof has become the place in the Capitol where they tell each other the unvarnished truth. This is where Katniss tells Peeta about Lavinia and her part (through inaction although really what could she do) in Lavinia’s capture and Katniss’ subsequent guilt over it. (The Hunger Games, chapter 6) That’s important because what they say to each other on the roof is not meant to manipulate, so those two quotes are part of how he really feels and thinks.

As for what he’s saying, there’s three parts of this conversation. The first is that he expects to die. He doesn’t actually believe he can win. The second (which I left out) is a desire to maintain his purity of self. The third is the idea that he wants to, on an individual level, undermine what the Capitol does through the Games by making his death, Peeta’s death, a meaningful one. This has nothing to do with him being “in love” with Katniss. This is strictly Peeta’s desire to not die for no reason. The deaths in the Games are pointless. Peeta wants to upend the system. The ironic thing is that even though he talks like he hasn’t figured ot out, he’s already  put into motion the thing that he wants to do -- upending the system by dying to keep someone else alive. And if we want further layers of significance: what he’s doing mirrors what Katniss did in volunteering for Prim. SHe tells us that volunteering is rare except in the career districts, where the Games are viewed differently. Volunteering, even for a family member, just doesn’t happen. Hence why her act is rebellious and gains attention. So again, Peeta is searching for a meaningful death, through an act that is agape love, not eros or romantic love, but it also ends up subverting the system in which they live. The potential for romantic love does complicate his choices, and perhaps give different levels of depth to his choice, but I don’t think it’s the only reason for his choice.

What the heck does that have to do with the question you asked me? Glad you asked! I’m getting there. All of that to point out that Peeta’s life, despite the limited view of his character that we get through Katniss, would not be solely influenced by Katniss herself. Despite the fantastic, science fiction elements to the books, in terms of characterization, and interpersonal relationships, they tend to follow a somewhat Realistic rather than Romantic format. By Romantic, I refer to the tradition of Romanticism where a realistic form of cause and effect wasn’t as central to characterization as say passion, divine influence, the power of the imagination, or the sublime. Not to knock Romanticism, I just don’t see it’s traditions at work in The Hunger Games as much as some others.

So to answer your questions... yes, yes at first, and yes. I would guess that Peeta does feel as though he’s getting mixed signals from Katniss during Catching Fire, at least for the first half up until *drum roll please* the final roof scene. The Place of Truth. And here is why:

We know that once he apologizes for acting wounded after their first Games, and Katniss returns the apology (Catching Fire, chapter 4), Katniss and Peeta are working towards being friends. There are of course some minor bumps in the road, but once they acknowledge that they have to work together and tell each other things, they do so in mostly admirable fashion. The thing is, most of Katniss’ actions during the Victory Tour in terms of physical affection towards Peeta are easily dismissed by him as part of the act. Easy peasy, still friends. Except there’s that pesky detail of the nights on the train... Ah platonic bedshare.* I won’t lie, I literally salivate over that trope in pretty much all forms of intimate relationships. Friendships, sisters, platonic romance, uncertain lovers, absolutely filthy sexed up lovers just holding each other? I die for it. Fangirl moment over, back to the essay!

*I’m not talking fanfiction here, which there is a plethora of ‘what if something sexual actually did happen on the train?’ Katniss specifically tells us that it didn’t. Maybe she is an unreliable narrator, but that’s not because she outright lies in her narration, it’s because 1) she is not omniscient so she has a limited perspective 2) her narration is influenced by her opinions and thoughts so it could misrepresent certain things and 3) she sometimes is uncertain or flawed in her own view of self, to include not quite being able to figure out why certain people are acting certain ways in response to her. These are all very realistic flaws to give a human character and add to the unreliability of her narration. Still, she’s pretty damn vulnerable and open in her narration, to include telling us things that she’s ashamed of and the fact that her pee has turned brown when she’s dehydrated in the first arena, so I don’t see her being dishonest about this particular aspect of her and Peeta’s relationship. By all means, fanfic it up, but to me that’ll always be canon divergent fic.*

So it’s platonic, but: teenage boy mass of confusion.

I don’t think Katniss intends to hurt or confuse Peeta by sharing her bed with him. She is used to sharing a bed, remember? She’s shared one with Prim for most of her life, after all, and so she is both familiar with and comfortable with sharing a bed in a non-sexual, non-romantic manner. In fact, she craves that kind of human contact and closeness. She is most lost when she’s sleeping alone.

We are never told if Peeta has to share a bed with his brothers (ugh I have two sons with whom I’ve had to bedshare with in hotels and because Big Scary Storms, and I pity Peeta if he did lololololol), which leaves him potentially vulnerable to thinking those moments on the train meant something else on top of them comforting and protecting one another. In fact, his comment in Mockingjay would imply that he didn’t share a bed with his brothers, because his brain attached some kind of significance to it beyond the platonic with Katniss (or he’s just being as ass in that scene, also possible given hijacking).

Still, Katniss’s intentions might not be enough to completely erase Peeta’s confusion about the moments in bed together. In other words, just because nothing sexual happens doesn’t mean that Peeta is exempt from wondering if there is a deeper romantic or emotional attachment being formed when they sleep together. 

And Katniss is freaking desperate for physical affection. Once she breaks that barrier with someone she trusts, it almost becomes force of habit. She admits to missing holding Peeta’s hand when they do so after the apology at the beginning of Catching Fire. She describes that kiss in the snow in wistful terms of longing, almost crying. She holds onto his hand and brings it to her cheek after the incident with the fence being turned on while she was in the woods and the Peacekeepers waiting in her house. She doesn’t want to let go when he embraces her on the train to their second Games. After shutting Peeta out when the Victors tease her and finally letting him back into her bed, she talks about how badly she’s been longing “for the feel of him beside me in the dark.” All of these events happen without the presence of the camera. These are all moments of Katniss just wanting physical touch, specifically from Peeta, for her sake and no one else’s, because it is what she wants.

But also at this point, she’s given him no concrete reason to believe that they are anything more than friends. The fact that they go from apology to hand holding as tentative friends to bed sharing in a manner of like two days would suggest that their development of physical affection does not follow a more traditional idea of courtship. So yes, I can see how Katniss’ desire for physical affection might sow the seeds of doubt in Peeta’s mind and make him believe there is hope for them as a romantic couple. He’s a little too eager to confirm that Katniss has only kissed Gale once, and Peeta’s first response to Katniss asking him to run away from the district with her is to ask who else is coming, knowing that she wouldn’t just plan this to get the two of them out, but more importantly, when she lists their families and Haymitch... Peeta immediately asks about Gale. And his answer reveals that he has intuited what exactly Gale feels about her, and that Gale wouldn’t tolerate Peeta’s presence on a soujourn in the woods, but why? If Peeta doesn’t present a threat to Gale and Katniss’ romantic potential, then why should Gale dislike the idea of Peeta going along? Why should Peeta assume that Gale would be adamantly opposed to his presence? So yes, I think it’s entirely possible that Peeta thought she was sending mixed signals.

This isn’t meant to bash Katniss, only to highlight the potential for a form of miscommunication or crossed signals for them, and to point out that just because you don’t mean to hurt someone or make them feel a certain way, your direct actions and words to them might have unintended effects. If Katniss isn’t perfect, neither is Peeta. And if he is capable as a character of having a life and motivations independent of Katniss, he is also capable of feeling things about what she does that Katniss does not intend to make him feel. And there is nothing inherently wrong with that.

That being said, I also think he did accept that her feelings for him did not and would not extend past friendship, and tried to make peace with it. The two are not mutually exclusive. Think of it like a rollercoaster.

Peeta tells himself that they are friends, nothing more. He repeats this to himself. She starts demanding he sleep with her. Nothing romantic or sexual happens, but this is an act of extreme intimacy... maybe, possibly? ...We could get married, she says.

BAM! Reality check.

Peeta tells himself its fake, it’s fake, it’s fake, but she’s been been wanting him to sleep with her so he climbs in her bed on the way home, and accepts that this is just what they do, protect each other from the night. But also they are engaged and at that point believe that they will somehow have to make a life together, so he takes the liberty of saying things that maybe he wouldn’t have said before. Life goes on, friendship is fine. ... Peeta would you run away with me? she asks. Yes! Wait... What about Gale? Also who’s getting whipped?

BAM! Reality check.

Alright, she loves Gale. No big deal. Friends. Friends is good. ...I live three houses down why are you calling me? Friends, we’re friends we’re friends it’s good, never mind that I’m probably gonna be married to someone who is in love with someone else, I got this ... wait where is Katniss and why are there Peacekeepers here???? ... Stay with me, she says.

BAM! Feelings. Damnit. Why me?

We could go on... but I’ll spare you my terrible summary. Anyways, the point is, I think he did accept that she didn’t have those kinds of feelings for him, but as she developed those kinds of feelings through Catching Fire, I think he would’ve picked up on some of the moments, dared to hope, and then had to crush those feelings. And the fact that he felt like he was being yanked back and forth might have led to moments of feeling like she was using him. However...

One does not run into a bloodbath/Hunger Games Feast to save the life of a person you don’t give a flying fuck about. One does not suggest mutual suicide if there is zero level of care. One does not ask a person to flee a tyrannical government if one does not give a shit if the person is tortured and killed. So Peeta could have, and likely did, rationalize that maybe Katniss didn’t feel the depth of feelings or attachment to him that he wanted her to feel, when he wanted her to feel them, but I think he knew there was some level of trust, affection, and attachment to him on her part, which could have led to confusion via that pesky thing we call hope and possibility.

All of that, and I still don’t think this complication of their relationship diminishes it, not by any means. I actually think it enhances it, deepens it. Relationships are fucking messy. They’re not pretty or perfect. They’re not linear in development, either. They just... aren’t, I’m sorry. You cannot walk through life without unintentionally hurting someone. Conflict of desires and interests is GOING to happen. And I see that in Katniss and Peeta’s relationship as it develops. It’s not healthy to be solely motivated by one other person, to put everything in your identity into one other person. So yeah, I’m not a “Peeta did everything for Katniss and nothing else” kind of reader. Peeta can love Katniss while still feeling used by her in certain moments. He can love her and still be confused by the signals she is sending him in regards to their relationship. He can love her and still have a life and relationship outside of her. They are not mutually exclusive, and to me, that’s more reflective of reality, which as sad as it might be at times, is actually part of the beauty of their relationship.

[sisterssafespace]

Assalamu alaikum sister,

I just need some advice so the thing i was talking to a guy he's so nice and respectful and is working on his deen and says that i inspire him to be a better person,we both somehow like eachother but I'm scared that what if this *talking thing* is only gonna hurt me in future i don't wanna be involved in anything haram and he's from another country so according to me there's no future for us but i genuinely do care about him and so does he , what should I do ??

Wa alaykum assalamu wa rahmatu Allahi wa barakatuhu my dear 🤍

Tbh I didn't know what to say.. or more like I knew exactly what to say I just didn't know how to say it. You know sometimes I genuinely think of this issue. I wonder when it will in shaa Allah my time and my own daughter would reach this age, how would I deal with this? Will I let her make her own mistakes or will I tell her off from the start before she even puts herself in a tricky situation like this. But anyways, I just wanted to share my genuine feelings with you. I am going to ask you something tho. I want you to objectively read this ask now that it's published, and consider yourself as an outsider, what would YOU tell this girl? 👀

With that being cleared outta the way. I have two ideas for you. Let's start with the first one: Making friends (or texting/ chatting) with someone of the different sex who is a non-mahram especially WITHOUT A GIVEN CLEAR CONTEXT (for example, you don't study together, you don't work together) is not permissible in Islam. And this is not my opinion, this is a common rule that all mashayikh and scholars agree upon, it's from the basics. However, the culture, the background, and our upbringing sometimes advertises different virtues and ideas than our religion. But the day of judgement, when we will be standing before our Lord, we will stand alone, not with our friends and acquaintances. Do you get me?

But my dear Allah swt did not make things impermissible for us for no reason, but rather to protect us from hurt and pain that we wouldn't handle. Allah swt is saving us from the heartbreak. Especially that girls get emotionally attached too easily too soon too hard, sometimes. So prohibiting us from free mixing or from chatting to non-mahrams is for our own sake and safety. That's as far as the general rule.

Now, more precisely, about your case: I personally see that there is no point since you said you and this guy have no future together. So what's the point? You care about him? Okay that's good, it shows you're a kind person. You can translate your care for him into making duaa for him from afar. You don't have to put yourself in the wrong, just because you care. And also, by focusing on this guy (which I personally see as a waste of your precious time and energy) you are distracting yourself from things that could be really beneficial for you. Listen my dear, I am considering you as a little sister, and I really don't mean to lecture or patronize you I promise. I am just frustrated that the amazing precious girls of this ummah don't know their real worth and keep putting themselves in the wrong situations. Habibty, you are a gem, you are a brilliant creature that Allah swt has created for a great purpose and that your parents - hopefully - have invested in you so much energy, and love, to raise a smart beautiful strong kind spirit that is yourself. I hope you treat and carry yourself accordingly. Don't waste your time on pointless situations with no future. That's not what life is about. P.s. I am only allowing myself to give my personal opinion because you asked. I do apologize again if I am crossing any lines. I hope you accept my advice with a chest wide-open.

And always remember, when you give up things for the sake of Allah swt, you will be rewarded with something that's a million times better.

May Allah swt guide you to do the right thing and give you strength and patience to accept and adjust. Ameen.

I trust you will know the right thing to do in shaa Allah.

Stay safe my dear.

- A. Z. 🍃

[queerderpyturtle]

some old rambles about discord and starswirl that I dug up

I been thinkin. Bout Discord and Starswirl. And how they probably knew each other. And what their relationship could've been. And what that means for the rest of their arcs in the show.

From what we know (and what I remember) Discord came into power after Starswirl and the pillars were sent to Limbo, but Celestia and Luna started ruling Equestria sometime between those two events, because they were too young to remember or care about the other pillars, but they banished Discord.

We don't know a lot about Discord's past, but I imagine that when he first came to Equestria (at which point I assume he was fairly young by draconequus standards), he wasn't exactly given a warm welcome. Ponies were probably absolutely terrified of this horse-headed, bat-winged, lion-pawed, snake-tailed freak of nature, and there's a good chance they would've driven him out of town full force. His first taste of ponykind was rejection.

So, later, he tries again. He makes himself a pony disguise-- a handsome unicorn stallion named Atlas-- and sets off to learn more about Equestria. And it works! He's able to make friends, live amongst ponies, and study Equestria magic. He actually gets pretty good at doing through his unicorn horn, so much so that he manages to get into a prestigious magic school for gifted unicorns. "Atlas" is of course still a troublemaker, though. He pulls pranks, annoys his teachers, breaks the rules, and just generally has no respect for authority. And why should he? The entire society that Equestria is built on is corrupt beyond all belief, stuck in its ways, and downright hostile towards any creature outside of it. They didn't deserve his damn respect. Equestria itself was fairly new as well, and the ponies themselves were still getting used to each other. It was all one giant powderkeg, and Atlas was honestly excited to see what would happen when it went off. So he stuck around, if only to cause more chaos in this personal playpen country of his. If he wasn't the best student in all of his classes, his teachers probably would've strangled him after a day.

And then one day, he found himself in a class with the famous Odin Starswirl, a magically gifted unicorn with a penchant for proving others wrong and keeping a clear head while doing it. He was proper, eloquent, studious, respectable-- a perfect pony for Atlas to torment. Except it turns out that Odin is ridiculously, insufferably hard to annoy. When Atlas knocked over his books, or spilled water on his cloak, or made fun of his sloppy hornwriting, Odin simply responded with a sigh and a quick cantrip to fix whatever the stallion had ruined with his antics. This did not please Atlas at all. He spent more time hanging around Odin than he did hanging out with his more troublesome buddies, just to try and get a rise out of him. But he never could. If anything, they were becoming... friends. Atlas's biting remarks turned into light-hearted jabs and playful scoldings.

"Odin, for heaven's sake, if you don't take a break from studying to shave for once in your damn life, I'm going to have to start calling you Starswirl the Bearded!"

His destruction of property turned into casual acts of kindness.

"Yes, I brought your saddlebag. I knew you'd forget it, you scatterbrain. We're lucky you even remember to eat."

His contempt for Odin's huffy nature turned into giving the unicorn an easy out for boring social events hosted by his equally uppity parents.

"C'mon, Stars, let's get out of here. I know a place nearby that sells elderberry tea."

"You know I can't leave. This is an important party."

"Important to whom, exactly, my dear?"

"To my parents!"

"Your parents. Well, last time I checked, they weren't you."

"...Fine. Thirty minutes, and then you're bringing me back."

Before long, Odin was regularly sneaking off to join Atlas and his friends on their escapades. He found himself strangely drawn to the unicorn, in spite of-- or maybe because of his rebellious and carefree nature. He was so different from the ponies Odin was used to, so sure of himself, so headstrong. Odin would be a fool to say he wasn't slowly getting attached to the scoundrel.

Atlas noticed this, of course. He was honestly surprised! Who knew a straight-edged young scholar like Odin would be so willing to stray from the path of monotony? And that was all Atlas wanted. To cause a little chaos in Odin's life. It wasn't as if there were moments in which he looked at the unicorn and considered giving up his whole scheme to enjoy a happy life alongside his... friend? Companion? Fellow associate? Lord, what even where they? Atlas had never really had a friend that was interested in any part of him other than the chaotic part, and Discord hadn't had any friends at all. He took a leap of faith one day to ask Odin if they were, in fact, friends, and Odin responded with an aloof "Yes, I do believe so." And that was that, wasn't it? He had a friend. A real friend.

Over the next few years, Odin and Atlas became inseparable. It was a thing to see, the two of them trotting down the streets of Canterlot together. They couldn't have been more different, from the way they walked to the way they spoke, but they were as close as ponies could get. Odin gave Atlas a safe place to practice magic, study Equestrian history, and discuss the library's old scrolls and texts from ancient unicorns. Atlas gave Odin an out from his mundane life as a trophy child of the wealthy Starswirl family. When Odin started tutoring two unicorn fillies with promising skills in arcane magics, Atlas was the first of Odin's friends he introduced them to (the fillies lovingly started referring to the stallions as their honorary uncles). When Atlas accidentally used too much sticking potion in a prank and stuck one of his teachers to the side of the school for three days, Odin helped him sneak into the Starswirl mansion to hide, scolding him between laughs the whole way. They each saw more in each other than the average pony could ever see; Odin was more than a prodigy, and Atlas was more than an annoyance.

And if there were, perhaps, by some miracle, some hint of... romance beneath their friendship that neither side would admit to, well. That was their own business. If they enjoyed cuddling up on the couch to read from the same book, nopony needed to know. If they relished each "accidental" brush of hooves or tails when they walked together, nopony would be any the wiser. If Odin longed for the day when Atlas would use those strong forearms of his to pin the stallion against the nearest wall and just kiss him already, and felt more alive than he'd ever felt in his life when Atlas finally did...

Then maybe that was just fine. And for a while, it was. But there was always that itch at the back of Atlas's mind, that knowledge that their relationship was fleeting, because it was all, in truth, based on a lie. If Odin found out who Atlas really was, what Atlas really was, it would all crumble to pieces like a biscuit that had been left out in the sun. Atlas... no, Discord hated that the thought of losing Odin-- a simple pony whose life was a speck of dust in his immortal existence, who would be a pile of ashes in the ground before Discord had even had his second molt-- made him so unreasonably upset. He'd known going into this that becoming invested in the lives of the ponies in Equestria was foolish. He'd never meant for it to get this far. He'd come here to futz with the government a bit, maybe start a few riots or terrorize a few queens. He never wanted to find Odin. So why wasn't he willing to let him go?

Shit, he really was in too deep.

And yet, Atlas and Odin found themselves ever-so-slowly, but ever-so-surely falling in love.

But nothing gold can stay.

Odin had always known Atlas was a bit of an anarchist. It was one of the things he admired about the stallion-- his ability to let go of the norms that Equestria had built for itself and be his own pony. The problem was that Atlas seemed to have a problem with how Equestria treated creatures who weren't ponies. Griffons, yaks, kirin, and the like. Equestria had never been a big trading country, or a big socializing-with-other-nations country. They kept to themselves. Of course, this meant that xenophobia was rampant, and that the fear of the outside world was instilled into the hearts of almost every pony there. But why should Atlas care so much?

Odin asked him as much when the two stallions were studying together in Odin's room, and Atlas became noticeably more tense. He gave Odin a simple "I just think it's wrong," hoping to avoid the subject, but Odin pressed him for more details. Sure, Equestria was problematic, but all in all, it was a good country. Was there really anything so bad about wanting to keep it the way it was? Atlas tried to keep himself from snapping, tried to keep himself from saying something he'd regret, but hearing these things from a pony he loved hurt him deeply.

"It's not about tradition or preservation, Odin. It's about the fact that Equstria has never been willing to change. Before the unifications of the species, it was conflict between the pony species. After, it was conflict between the classes. Now, it's conflict between countries. Just because the problems are external doesn't mean they aren't there," Atlas told him.

"But it isn't exactly a pressing matter. It hardly effects us at all. I guess I just don't understand," Odin replied.

"Of course you don't."

It was said so quietly that Odin couldn't quite tell if he'd been meant to hear it, yet with such venom that he couldn't ignore it. He chanced a confused look and a "What?"

Atlas stood. "Of course you don't," he repeated. "You're the perfect example of a high-class, magically advanced, want-for-nothing unicorn pony. You're perfectly content to live in your little bubble of mediocrity, never trying to do anything to change the world around you. You think there's nothing you can do to help others, so you don't even try. You think they'll sort themselves out. You're complacent, Odin. You've always been."

"Complacent! And just what is wrong with that? I'm doing my best in my own life and I have no responsibility to try and fix the lives of others! Is it so wrong to focus on myself?"

"Of course not! But you can't just pretend that you're the only one with problems! I see it every day, Odin. You act like you're on top of the world, like you're above feeling sorry for others. You don't even care about them. About me!"

Odin looked hurt. "Atlas, I-- of course I care about you! You mean everything to me!"

"And just how much would it take to change that? Telling you my real name isn't Atlas? Telling you I'm not from Equestria? Telling you I look like this?!"

In a flash, Atlas removed all the disguise spells he had on himself, leaving him-- Discord-- in his true form. A long, sleek body covered in brown fur. The misshapen head of a goat, framed by a shaggy black mane and two short horns. Wings, legs, and a tail that had all been taken from different animals, stuck together like a gruesome collage. Odin's eyes trailed up the creature's body slowly, trying and failing to comprehend what he was seeing. He began to back up.

Discord could feel each step he took like knives driving into his heart. Odin was afraid.

The draconequus scoffed. "You're all the same."

"A-Atlas, I..."

"Discord. My name is Discord. I am a draconequus from the tribe of the western Badlands, sent to Equestria to study its magic. When I first came here, I was avoided like the plague. Ponies wanted nothing to do with me. They saw what they were told to see in me-- a monster. A hideous, murderous, blood-thirsty monster. They threw me out because I was different."

Odin was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled. "I think I n-need some time to... to process all of this. Alone."

Discord couldn't have stopped the pain he felt from showing on his face if he'd somehow managed to summon all the magic on the planet. He gritted his teeth, blinked back tears, and disappeared in a shower of sparks.

It was the last conversation he would have with Odin for a millennium.

That night, Odin lay in bed, his mind racing, working overtime to try and figure out what in Tartarus had just happened. Firstly, he and Atlas had just had their first real lovers' spat. Except that those typically didn't lead to one of the ponies involved revealing that he was a creature from a faraway land, but whatever. Secondly, "Atlas" was a draconequus named Discord. That would take some getting used to, of course, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Thirdly, Atlas-- who was actually Discord-- had stormed out in a huff without saying goodbye. Well, that's just how things were sometimes. Nothing to lose sleep over.

When he awoke the next morning, the first though this mind supplied him with was, "Oh sweet merciful heavens I've ruined everything." He rushed to school early, hoping to find his friend (Boyfriend? Lover? Shit, I love him and I just cast him out like an old dish towel), but the stallion was nowhere in sight. Odin asked around, tried everything to get into contact with Atlas/Discord, but nothing came up. He had disappeared off the face of the planet.

Instead of dealing with all the emotional turmoil that came with that situation, Odin threw himself into his studies. His magic grew stronger and stronger, fueled by rage and pain and sadness. He pushed Celestia and Luna to become powerful sorcerers like himself, pouring every hour that he didn't spend practicing magic himself into teaching them. He tried to forget about Discord entirely, and move on. He didn't need some handsome bad-boy keeping him sane to be successful. He only needed himself. That was all he would ever need. Odin was gone. There was only the great and honorable Starswirl the Bearded.

When the sirens invaded Equestria, he agreed to help defeat them. When Stygian came to him looking for friendship that Starswirl hadn't even offered to the other "pillars," he turned him away coldly. When he realized the only way to defeat the Pony of Shadows was by sending the seven of them into limbo, he refused, at least at first. But the citizens of Equestria persisted. He was the great Starswirl, he had a duty to protect them and keep Equestria safe. He tried to tell them that the consequences of the spell were too drastic, but they would not listen. Starswirl had no choice but to go through with it.

Discord, meanwhile, had been staying on the outskirts of Equestria, brooding and cursing Odin's name. When he found out that Odin had vanished, however, and the circumstances of his disappearance... well, he wasn't happy. Despite everything, he still loved the idiot, and he had never wanted something so terrible to happen to him. Odin would have never agreed to something like that without being pushed by the Equestrian citizens. What right did they have to decide who lived and who died? Why did they get to sacrifice their most beloved sorcerer for their own safety when there were other options? Was this the price they paid for harmony?

That wouldn't do. That simply wouldn't do at all. If these pitiful excuses for equines thought the pony of shadows was a threat to their delicate balance, he would show them true chaos. He dethroned the country's leader, took over, and made the ponies of Equestria suffer like he did.

And then Celestia and Luna came along. When had they gotten so big? So powerful? How had they grown wings? Were they seriously going to try and take him down? Lulu and Celly, the sweet little fillies who had once made him flower crowns and taught him songs and invited him to tea parties. They were going to try and make him surrender. How adorable. He wasn't going to fight them, of course-- he still held a great affection for them, no matter how long he'd been gone. He would let them do their little song and dance, and them send them on their way.

Of course it was hard for the sisters, too. They had looked up to Discord back in the day, he and Starswirl both. Now they were using the magic that Starswirl had taught them to defeat someone he had once loved. Someone he probably still loved. But freedom is never free, and the sisters were resigned to their fate. They harnessed the power of the elements of harmony, turned Discord to stone, and hoped silently that someday, somehow, he would return to them, and he and Starswirl would find each other again.

[inkweaver22-blr]

Phew! This one gave me a bit of trouble to get out! Here we have our second big reveal of the story! Let’s see what happens.

AO3 Link

<Previous | First | Next>

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Five: Timely Assumptions

Tang gets more than he expects at the start of one cycle. This leads to a few startling realizations.

----------

Tang looked up into the frightened expressions of the much younger Sun Wukong and Macaque as his body continued to disappear.

“I-” Being erased scared him. Would he wake up in a new cycle or simply cease to be?

Tang weakly lifted his hand, desperate to do something, grab something to ground him. Anything. Anyone!

“I don't w-want to go-”

He faded out of existence, not hearing anything else they might have said after. The last thing he saw were their horrified faces.

----------

The cave. The voices. The light.

----------

Tang woke with a gasp, his heart racing.

He had died before, but accidentally erasing yourself using a time-traveling peanut cactus was a new and terrifying experience.

The scholar took a few deep breaths, grounding himself with the fact that he was still here and hadn’t been deleted entirely. He had never been so relieved to be stuck jumping between timelines before now.

Tang winced as he remembered the anguish on the faces of the two monkeys he had befriended. He hoped his vanishing hadn’t traumatized them too much. If they were lucky they wouldn’t even remember anything now that the version of himself that had gone back in time had never existed in the first place.

God, time travel was confusing.

He glanced around his room and noticed a book on his nightstand. Picking it up, he was slightly disappointed to find it wasn’t the one on constellations he had used to teach the younger Macaque how to read.

With a sigh, Tang got up and prepared for the day. There was no point dwelling too much on what couldn’t be changed. Once dressed he stood in front of the mirror and began his little remembering ritual.

He first checked the date on his phone. It was still a few days before MK would get the staff so nothing of real consequence should be too different yet.

Taking a deep breath the scholar began reciting what he remembered about himself this time.

“I am the immortal monk Tang Sanzang-”

Tang choked as he doubled over in pain.

Hundreds of years of memories flooded through him. He collapsed to the ground and clutched at his head as it pounded in agony from the onslaught of innumerable experiences.

Tang crawled over to his bed and leaned back against it, his eyes shut tight and hands over his ears in a vain attempt to block out the rushing thoughts.

Living humbly as a monk. Being chosen by Guanyin. The journey. Sun Wukong. Bai Long Ma. Zhu Bajie. Sha Wujing. The many, many demons they encountered.

(How had he ever been so naive?)

Completing the journey. Becoming immortal. He, Bajie, and Wujing choosing to live on Earth instead of in Heaven.

(Pigsy was Zhu Bajie and Sandy was Sha Wujing!)

Wukong sealing away the Demon Bull King and vanishing. The three of them searching for him tirelessly. Never finding him. Giving up and living the next five hundred years without him.

(He should have never given up. He should have kept looking until he found his beloved disciple.)

It was all too much to handle. Tang needed time to process everything.

He called in sick to work, which with his short breath and trembling voice wasn’t questioned too closely. After sending a text to Pigsy (Zhu Bajie!) so he wouldn’t wonder about his absence at the shop, Tang pulled himself onto the bed and pressed his face into the pillows.

The headache and whirling memories prevented him from falling asleep, so he tried to focus on one thing at a time.

In this cycle he was the immortal monk Tang Sanzang, sometimes also referred to as Tripitaka.

There was still just so much to unpack in that single thought it made him a bit dizzy.

Tang had never been anyone other than himself in all the timelines he’d been in. His roles may sometimes be a bit different but he had always been Tang. He had theorized once that it had something to do with how every soul was unique so he literally couldn’t be anyone else.

His breath caught as he realized the implication that brought.

Tang’s soul was unique and thus he couldn’t be anyone other than himself in the various timelines.

In this timeline, he was the monk Sanzang.

In order for him to be both himself and the famous monk simultaneously, their souls had to be exactly the same.

That meant he wasn’t the monk in just this timeline, but in all of them, including his original time.

Oh Heavens, he was the reincarnation of Tang Sanzang.

Tang gulped in several breaths of air as his mind blanked out. He needed to focus. One thing at a time.

Pigsy was Zhu Bajie and Sandy was Sha Wujing in this timeline.

After the previous revelation, this one was much less earth-shattering.

He had always known that his group of friends mirrored the original journey’s group closely. Pigsy and Sandy also being reincarnations of their historical counterparts in his own time wasn’t much of a stretch.

Tang’s breath slowed as he began to calm. What was next?

Wukong disappeared and the trio searched for him. They never found him and gave up, assuming the monkey to be dead.

This was upsetting in an entirely different way. Tang knew Wukong was still alive thanks to the events of the original timeline, and that made the guilt of giving up even worse. He’d have to fix that.

Tang sighed in relief as his thoughts finally slowed and the pain ebbed. He still had a lot to work through, but that could wait for later. Going back to sleep sounded heavenly at the moment.

He had just started to doze off when an errant fact suddenly popped into his head.

Wasn’t Tang Sanzang already a reincarnation of one of the Buddha’s original disciples, the Golden Cicada?

With a groan Tang shoved a pillow over his head and attempted to beat back the thoughts from whatever that implied about him.

He didn’t sleep very well.

----------

“So what’s this all about Tang,” Pigsy asked grumpily as he accepted a mug of tea from Sandy. It was late at night, a few days after the release of the Demon Bull King, and the three of them were meeting privately at Sandy’s ship on the scholar’s request.

Tang took a sip from his own mug as he studied the two other immortals. Had it not been for his own memories on the matter, he would have never guessed that they were two of the five companions of the legendary Journey to the West.

Zhu Bajie had been, no pun intended, pigheaded, crass, and ornery. He seemed to be contrarian whenever he felt like it and relished in trying to get one over on Sun Wukong. Tang couldn’t deny the pig demon’s ability to rise to the occasion when the chips were down however. For as much trouble Zhu Bajie seemed to cause, he’d been invaluable a fair number of times as well.

Sha Wujing lived to fight. His rage and battle-lust had definitely caused their own share of problems. Other than that, the large river demon tended to be the quiet one of the group and didn’t open up until the latter half of their journey.

Tang wasn’t blind to his own faults though.

Tripitaka, (after some meditation, Tang had decided to refer to his past self as such to avoid confusion with the name Tang Sanzang), had not been ready for such a perilous adventure. He had been too trusting of strangers, too proud to believe Wukong’s warnings. It was his own incredible naivety and insistence that he knew better that had led to the vast majority of the dangers they had found themselves in.

It was hard to reconcile who the three of them had been with who they were today, but Tang supposed five hundred years would change most people.

Pigsy still had a gruff exterior, but his desire to start trouble had long since faded. His discovery of a love for cooking had unlocked a surprising work ethic within the pig demon as well as a silent form of affection that he treated any he cared for with.

Sandy had sought out a therapist and took anger management classes. His love for battle long since extinguished, the river demon now spent his time taking care of his cats, making tea, and being supportive of his friends.

Tang was certainly not naive to the ways of the world any longer. He still did his best to treat any strangers he met with kindness and respect, but he never fully believed anyone new to be trustworthy until they showed themselves to be. He always listened to the advice of his friends as well, knowing that he didn’t know everything and those around him might have insights he did not.

Tang placed his mug down and steepled his fingers together.

“We need to tell MK, Mei, and Wukong who we really are.”

“What?!” Pigsy's angry reaction hadn’t been unexpected. They had made an agreement some time back to not reveal themselves to anyone. It was less to do with having to deal with annoying fans and more with avoiding the painful memories their identities brought with them.

If it wasn’t for the fact he had been hopping through timelines and saw first hand how hiding things from people hurt them, Tang was certain he wouldn’t have been making this decision.

“I said we-”

“I heard what you said,” Pigsy interrupted. “No way! Nuh-uh! Not happening!”

“Now hold on brother,” Sandy soothed, placing a comforting hand on the chef’s shoulder. “Let’s hear him out first.”

“This better be good,” Pigsy grumbled and slouched back into his chair.

“Which do you think will go over better? Us being honest with them about our pasts, or them discovering the truth on their own?”

“They won’t find out if we’re careful about it,” Pigsy countered.

“They will find out,” Tang stated with absolute certainty. “Whether it’s the kids putting the pieces together themselves or Wukong recognizing us, there is no doubt that this isn’t going to stay a secret for long.”

Sandy seemed thoughtful but the pig demon simply huffed and crossed his arms stubbornly.

Tang stared directly into Pigsy’s defiant eyes. Looks like he’d have to pull out the big guns.

“How do you think MK will react once he finds out that we, that you, have been keeping something this important from him?”

With a sharp intake of air Pigsy froze, his expression changing from defiance to horror. He leaned over, placing his face in his hands and groaned.

“Oh god. He’d- he’d feel like I didn’t trust him. Like I didn’t care about him enough to tell him.” The chef seemed miserable at the thought as he looked up. “Okay, we can tell the kid. Mei too, I guess.”

Tang shared a glance with Sandy. Neither had missed the exclusion of Wukong from Pigsy’s concession.

(When did he stop being the Monkey King to Tang?)

“So, uh, will we tell big brother before or after we tell MK and Mei,” Sandy asked, eyeing the pig demon warily.

Like a switch had been flipped, Pigsy’s anger returned in full force, his face twisting into a hateful scowl.

“We ain’t telling that bastard nothing,” he snarled.

“Pigsy,” Tang scolded, shocked at the amount of venom in his voice.

“No! He doesn't deserve it! Not after letting us think he was dead-” Pigsy’s voice broke slightly as he continued his rant. “Not after avoiding us for five hundred years!”

Tang took a steadying breath and pushed down the irrational emotions and hurt that wanted to agree with Pigsy’s stance. He needed to be calm if he was to convince one of his oldest friends to go through with this.

“Assumptions, my dear friend, are very dangerous things,” Tang said.

“Huh?” Pigsy looked confused at the seeming change in subject. Good, that meant he was paying attention.

“We never found Wukong after he disappeared, so we assumed he was dead. We continued to assume such for five hundred years,” Tang began, speaking clearly and with emphasis to be sure he was understood. “We now know our assumptions were wrong. Now you are falling back into the same mistake.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“You are assuming that Wukong knew we were looking for him. You are assuming he hid from us intentionally. You are assuming that he knows we’re still alive.”

“Wait, what,” Sandy exclaimed. He had seemed to be following along with the conversation up until that point and now looked alarmed.

“How do we know Wukong didn’t fall into the same trap we have,” Tang explained. “That he didn’t just assume we were gone, either through death or reincarnation? With that assumption in mind, why would he ever think to go looking for us?”

There was a tense silence as Tang let his point sink in before finishing his argument.

“We can no longer assume things. That only leads to misunderstanding and hurt feelings. If we are to learn the truth we must actively look for it. To do that we must be honest with Wukong.”

Pigsy stared at him for a few moments before sagging and plopping down into his chair.

“I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Tang breathed a sigh of relief as Sandy chided their friend about drowning your feelings in alcohol. That was the first hurdle down.

Now for the hard part.

----------

In the end they decided to tell all three of them at the same time. Just to rip the whole band-aid off in one go so to speak.

It hadn't been too hard to convince MK to get Wukong to invite them to his island. He hadn’t welcomed them into his sanctum however, so they had a picnic on the shore near the waterfall curtain instead.

The food had been quickly forgotten once they began their explanation.

MK was upset at first at having the truth withheld from him, but some heartfelt reassurances and a teary hug from Pigsy had earned them his forgiveness. He bounced back rather quickly and immediately began launching questions excitedly at the trio.

Mei had simply accepted the revelation with great enthusiasm. She had pulled her phone and began live streaming a “Q&A WITH THE JOURNEY TO THE WEST CREW!!!”. So much for anonymity.

Tang gave an amused chuckle as the young adults pestered Pigsy and Sandy as he glanced at the uncharacteristically silent Wukong.

The Monkey King could have been carved from stone with how still he was, his expression frighteningly blank.

“Wukong?” Tang swallowed nervously as his first disciple turned to him with that empty look. “Do you want to say something?”

That had apparently been the wrong thing to ask.

“Do I want to say something? Do I want to say something?!” The empty stillness was immediately replaced with restless agitation as Wukong leapt to his feet and began to pace back and forth angrily. “Oh there are a lot of somethings I want to say to you three!”

“Hey Mei? Stop streaming for a bit,” MK said quietly as he pulled her a little ways away from the group. Tang would have been extremely proud of the emotional maturity the kid was showing, but he currently had a very pissed off monkey taking up most of his attention.

“How could you do this to me?! How could you even think of leaving me to be alone for five hundred years,” Wukong shouted at them, confusion and anger and hurt pouring from every word.

“Big brother, we-” Sandy tried.

“Don’t you ‘Big Brother’ me, Sha Wujing!” The way he spat out the name like a curse made the river demon flinch. “You all abandoned me! I thought I was never going to see any of you again! Yet here you all are!” Wukong clenched his fists as he glared at the three immortals. “WHERE WERE YOU?!”

“Where were we? Where were you,” Pigsy threw the question right back angrily. “We looked for you! For a century we searched! That’s more than what you can say!”

“And then when you got tired of it you gave up! You gave up on me!”

“WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!”

“I MIGHT AS WELL HAVE BEEN!”

The anger bled out from the air at that confession and Wukong seemed to crumble into himself. Pigsy looked stunned, Sandy was nervously wringing his hands, and Tang’s stomach was twisting itself into a painful knot.

“I was alone, Bajie. My brothers were gone and I was left by myself,” Wukong trembled as he hugged himself. Tang had never seen the proud warrior look so small before. “For centuries I had nothing but my memories and grief. Sometimes I wanted to be dead. Maybe then I’d see you again.” Wukong fell to his knees as he looked up at them with tears running down his face. “I missed you all so much.”

Tang felt his own tears falling as he rushed over to embrace Wukong who began to openly sob. Sandy and Pigsy soon joined in and the four of them simply held each other as they let their pain free.

“We’re so, so sorry Wukong,” Tang said. “I promise you we would have never hurt you like this intentionally.”

“I- I know,” Wukong hiccuped, clutching to the three of them tightly.

“We won’t ever leave you alone again big brother,” Sandy vowed.

“We’re stuck with each other from now on, no matter how much we may get on each other's nerves.” Pigsy’s joke earned a choked laugh from Wukong.

Two more pairs of arms entered into their group hug as MK and Mei joined them on the ground.

“Please don’t be sad Monkey King,” MK said. “You have Mei and I now too. You aren’t alone anymore.”

Wukong just began to cry a little harder and held on a bit tighter at that.

The six of them stayed like that for some time, holding each other up in silent support and comfort.

As they sat there, Tang was a little overwhelmed by how right it felt to be holding onto the others. Love burned in his chest as he enjoyed the warmth of being this close to his family.

Oh.

Oh.

They were his family, weren’t they?

That wasn’t just another assumption. These five, across any timeline, were family to him, and he would always care for them as such.

Any lingering doubts about being Tripitaka melted away. It didn’t really matter who he was or had been in the past. All that mattered was the real love he felt for these people that were precious to him.

As long as he had that, he could overcome anything else that came his way.

----------

You didn’t think I would write a Tang-centric fic and NOT have him be Tripitaka did you? It was inevitable honestly.

I'm not sure if I characterized Sha Wujing correctly here, but Sandy canonically went to anger management so I made some (hehe) assumptions.

Speaking of! Count how many assumptions are made in this chapter! There might be more than you think~

The story referenced in this chapter is Tang’s Time Adventure by Poddlebud. It’s a fun little romp with a unique ship. It’s a shame we didn’t get to see the conclusion played out here…

Until next time!

[danineverwenttoazkaban]

SE Appreciation Week - Fic 1 (Karol route)

@sweeteliteweek Very late but I just barely ended this not so short fic.

This is Karol’s route imagining some moments like the airport goodbye and days later while they’re at home so Papa Scholar is also featuring. I couldn’t help but add a bit of Tegan too and I tried to put several ideas I had together on the same story. Hopefully the back and forth between present and past is not too confusing. I didn’t know how to name it so I just took a song I was listening to by Wilco that is really sweet if anyone wants to listen to it.

Jesus, Etc.

The familiar vibrant and noisy city was something Scholar hadn’t think she would miss during those months at Arlington’s. Especially not the noises from the neighbor from the floor above as she rowed with her husband for the third time tonight, the people pacing up and down the stairs, the kids playing, the pizza delivery guys and Misses Jones with her 5 dogs. She smirked thinking what Karolina would say if she heard all this noise and reminisced to when they met, smiling at the thought. She would be rich by now if she was given a dollar for each time she thought of Karolina since she got on the plane home.

 --------------------------------------------------------------

“That’s my plane, people! Enjoy the journey home!”, announced Tyler as he picked up his heavy luggage. He hadn’t explained what the heck he was carrying on his bags but Scholar assumed it was something artistic.

“Hey Tyler, don’t forget about tomorrow’s match! There will be a 30% buff bonus”, said Tegan.

“Oh man, I told you I have that thing with my parents. I’ll make it up to you later, promise”, replied Tyler.

“… ok”, said Tegan as he gave him a weak smile, clearly disappointed.

“Cheers!”, shouted Tyler as he ran towards gate A27.

Only Scholar, Tegan and Karolina remained in the departure lounge. Neither Tegan or Karolina seemed particularly happy of going home, in fact Tegan was staring at the floor as if he had just been told Christmas had been cancelled this year.

“Hey, maybe I could join? I am not very good at videogames to be honest but you can teach me”, said Scholar putting a hand on Tegan’s shoulder.

Tegan looked up and smiled blushing.

“S-sure, I think you’d make a great cleric”, Scholar had no idea what that meant but she hated the sad aspect Tegan had.

She noticed Karolina was staring at her direction, a curious look on her face. In that moment, she heard her flight being called.

“Well, I guess I have to go now”, she said to both of them.

Tegan nodded.

“I’ll call you tomorrow to set your PC ready for the match”.

“Sounds like a plan!”, she answered before giving him a quick hug.

As she let go of Tegan, she looked at Karolina, unsure on how to approach her. Scholar took a step in her direction, asking for permission, they had barely talked since the night of the basement

“… I-I… goodbye, Karolina. Enjoy the holidays”, she said with slight nervousness, waiting for an answer.

Karolina was biting her lip and seemed uneasy, as if she was making up her mind about something. She leaped forward and put her arms around Scholar. The girl let go of the breath she had unknowingly kept as she felt Karolina’s warm embrace.

“Let me know when you arrive home”, Scholar heard Karolina whisper close to her ear, her breath sending shivers down her spine. She then felt something touching her cheek, she froze when she realized it was Karolina’s lips. The touch was so soft, so slight that it could had just been Scholar’s imagination. They let go of the embrace and Scholar felt her heart sink at the idea of being apart from her so many days.

“I will, you too, please”, she answered. Both Karolina and Tegan nodded and Scholar took her luggage before parting…

 The following day, Scholar had to excuse to her father early because Tegan had opened an account for her in the game they were supposed to play, in fact he had even customized her character based on a number of questions he had asked, many of which Scholar wasn’t sure how to answer. As she started her PC and positioned on her seat, she could not help but feel excited, seeing Tegan through the webcam meant also, perhaps, seeing her as well. Tegan’s face as he logged in had a mixture of sadness, exhaustion and defeat, he didn’t have Karolina’s ability of putting on a straight face, Scholar didn’t want to push an answer out so she didn’t ask. They spent a couple of hours playing, Scholar died way too many times in pure noob style but Tegan didn’t mind, in fact he laughed each time as she panicked when the other players surrounded her with attacks.

“Thank you, Scholar. You made my day”, Tegan told her after the match was over.

“I’m glad, I had a great time even though I clearly suck for this…”, she answered giggling. Tegan laughed as well, he covered his mouth whenever he laughed and Scholar thought it was cute but sad at the same time how insecure he could be at times, even among his friends.

“… She’s busy talking to mom and dad, by the way”, Tegan added after a while, “in case you were wondering.”

“Oh… it’s ok. Is everything alright?”, Scholar asked concerned, to be honest their parents didn’t exactly sound like the kind that understood and supported their children.

“They didn’t take well all that happened in FAXION, I almost didn’t login for the game but she wanted me to let her handle it on her own”, answered Tegan, “she didn’t want me blowing up and them… “, he paused, “… doesn’t matter, I will take care of her now.”

“She’s a tough girl, she worries about you too”, said Scholar, “let me know if you need anything”

“Of course, thanks again. I will tell her you say ‘hi’ ”, said Tegan before closing the session.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scholar sighed as she wondered how things had gone back at the twins’ house, hoping they were ok. The days that had followed to gaming night not much had happened. Tyler spammed them with funny selfies from the Red Carpet of God knows which movie his parents had taken him to, Tadashi and Alistair sent photos with the Drews, especially the dogs at Axel’s request, and Claire and Neha exchanged recipes for Christmas season. But barely anything from Karolina, still the fact Tegan kept sending memes mocking how bad she was at gaming was oddly comforting.

“Honey, I’m home, can you give me a hand with the bags?”, called Papa Scholar’s voice.

“Sure, dad, coming!”, answered Scholar and she walked towards the kitchen.

The bags were full of materials for her father’s famous pasta recipe but this time with a twist: he had agreed on incorporating one of Claire's many recipes. Both of them prepared everything for their movie night. Afterwards, they settled in the living room as they picked a title. They decided on one of the old movies that Scholar’s father loved “Pride and Prejudice”. Scholar had tried to get his father to watch the newer adaptation of the story but it had been pointless, the 1995 version was the one her mother loved and in a way for him watching the movie again meant reliving the joyful moments they passed together. Scholar had seen it too a handful of times yet this time it felt different, she felt connected not only because it had been her mom’s favorite movie but because the situation was now all too familiar. The pride and prejudice dance.

“You keep looking at your cell phone, expecting someone’s message?”, Papa Scholar asked as he arched an eyebrow.

“N-no, just checking the hour”, Scholar tried to reply, unconvincingly.

“Hmm, don’t forget I was your age once and fell in love at your age too”, the kind man answered giving her a warm smile.

But before Scholar could reply, they heard the alert of a new message coming in. Scholar jumped at the sound and widened her eyes at the name that appeared on the screen: “Karolina”. She quickly unlocked the cell phone, almost dropping it due to the urgency. Not paying attention to her father’s laugh at her clumsy movements, she opened the message:

Karolina: Are you awake?

Scholar: Yes, hi…

Karolina: Can I call you?

Scholar’s heart drop at her message. Almost three days without a message from her and now here she was asking for a call. She really did take that “best way to win someone is to surprise them” to the bone.

“Sorry, dad. Could we drop it here? A friend from Arlington wants to talk to me”

“Don’t worry, girl. Go call your friend”, she really did have the best dad.

 Scholar practically ran towards her room and texted her back.

Scholar: Sure.

Immediately her phone was vibrating and ringing. She answered almost as a reflex.

“Karolina?”, started Scholar, trying not to sound too excited.

“… Did I interrupt you?”, asked Karolina. Her voice on the phone was something Scholar couldn’t had foreseen would make her feel weak on the knees.

“No, uhm, I was just finishing watching a movie with my dad”

“Was it one of those cheesy old movies your dad likes?”, Karolina asked on a mocking tone. Wow, she had really paid attention…

“Ha, yeah. Pride and Prejudice… because you know how much I’m into the hate to love trope”, she blurted out surprising herself. Was it too bold to hint at ‘them’ like that? What was it about Karolina that it made her go rogue often.

Silence.

“… yes, I know”, Karolina answered. Scholar wondered, hoped, if Karolina was blushing.

“And what are you doing?”

“Our parents threw a party”

“Wow, sounds like fun.”

“It’s just the usual winter party they throw every year ”

“I’ve never been into a party like that”

“Of course not”, Karolina blurted out, “… I didn’t mean it to sound like that, I-I don’t think you’re missing anything”

“Karolina, not that I mind but why are you talking to me instead of enjoying yourself out there?”

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Karolina was standing in front of the wall mirror of her bedroom. Her new pine green dress matched perfectly the emerald earrings her father had bought her last year as well as the red lipstick. Everything fit together

“Miss, they are waiting for you downstairs”, the maid called after softly knocking the door.

Karolina took her purse and proceeded towards the lobby, across the dining room and into the garden. The surrounding people dressed in etiquette, the tables and the exquisite centerpieces seemed all surreal. She felt disconnected to this usual display of frivolity and superfluous social interactions, greeting people with a fake smile and pretending to care about the chit-chat. These people who if given the chance would rather see them in ruins.

At dinner, she sat with a couple of acquaintances, girls she had known since her childhood, the type her parents considered ‘appropriate’ but could never truly be friends. Her mind drifted elsewhere, back to the chalet, the sensation of safety, of being seen for the first time through the façade of her strong petty attitude, the possibility of being just ‘Karol’. She excused herself as the girls looked at her questioningly, stood up and walked behind a couple of bushes seeking some privacy.

“I heard she is going down her mother’s route”, she heard a voice say from behind the bushes.

“Her scandal at FAXION was disastrous, everyone has been talking about it”, followed another voice.

“Honestly, does it surprise anyone? It was a wonder she got this far”, said a third voice.

Karolina felt the anger and hurt built inside her, she was about to turn around and face whoever felt they had the right to talk behind her back in her own house when her cellphone vibrated. She took out her cellphone and noticed Scholar had sent a message to the group thanking Claire for the last recipe attaching also a photo of Scholar and her father cooking. She smiled at how happy they seemed and got lost in the sparkle of her eyes. She bit her lip debating on whether or not to message her… Screw it.

------------------------------------------------------------------

 “… Hmm, Karolina, is everything ok? Can you still hear me”, Scholar asked.

“Yes, I-I just … “, Karolina answered.

“You know you can tell me anything”, Scholar said, “how is everything with your parents?”

She heard Karolina sighed.

“Not good but I’d rather not talk about it”

“I’m sorry about that but it’s fine, what do you want to talk about then?”

“Nothing really, I was just bored, this party is obnoxious”, Scholar’s heart skipped a beat at her words, does she just miss me?

“I see…”, Scholar said. With her heart palpitating like crazy and the excitement of talking to Karolina she couldn’t hold back her emotions and she added, “… I miss you too.”

“I never said… you’re right, I do”, Scholar smirked. Karolina admitting her feelings was so refreshing; Scholar would need one of Neha’s teas to calm down the butterflies in her stomach.

“So dull party, huh? Should I be thankful I didn’t get invited?”, followed Scholar.

“I don’t find this type of parties endearing anymore”

“What? Hanging out with me is harming your social standards”

“Haha, you wished. I’ve never liked these parties but it was a good opportunity to meet important people”

“Oh, did you meet anyone interesting this time?”

“No, I found out that people are still talking about my FAXION fiasco”, Scholar felt her blood boil at that.

“They did? I wished I could beat some sense into that people”,

Karolina chuckled.

“Hey, I don’t mind. It’s better if they talk about me, free publicity. Besides we technically won.”

“That you did, you two were amazing, seriously no one could rival Neha’s designs. Also, you looked so beautiful and classy… even though you weren’t feeling well, you pulled that off despite everything. I can only imagine the big things you’ll do in the near future”

“You’re sweet. But remember I could steal your third place in the Gold Tier if you’re not careful”

“Oh Miss Novakova, we’ll see about that, we could bet to me beating you up in the finals”, were they flirting for real this time?, Scholar thought.

“You’re not taking me to the cafeteria again, are you?”, oh they definitely were.

“Hmm how about taking you to the gardens? Like a picnic?”, oh god, was she asking her on a date?!

“Hmmm… ok, deal”, Scholar heard Karolina answer. She did just ask Karolina on a date and she said yes!

“Deal”, wow. But this time she wouldn’t let Karolina say it wasn’t a date.

She heard Karolina laugh on the other end and it made her grin like an idiot, she wondered if Karolina was blushing furiously like she was.

“Thank you, by the way”, Karolina said after a brief silence.

“For what?”

“Helping my brother stay calm. You didn’t have to do that”

“I’m glad to help, he’s a dear friend and it killed me to see him so sad”

“He has been happier considering…”, Scholar assumed she meant with whatever was going on in their house. She wished she could do more.

“And you? Feeling better?”, Scholar asked.

“Much better”,

“I’m glad. I’m here for you, always”

“I know, I’m here for you too”, her voice sounded soft, to think about how much had happened for them to get to this point.

“I have to hang up now, we’ll talk soon”, Karolina added.

“Oh ok, of course, go back to the party”, she didn’t know what to say, she could had kept talking to her all holidays if she could.

“Good night… Oh, and watch out your door tomorrow”, Karolina said with a curious tone in her voice, almost nervous.

“Tomorrow? What happens tomorrow?”, Scholar asked confused.

“J-just pay attention, ugh. I have to go now.”

“Ok, ok, I will do. Good night, Karolina”, and with that she was left with the usual cellphone tone.

 The following day was Christmas’ Eve. To say she had spent the morning ecstatic was an understatement. She kept circling around the call she had with Karolina, the fact she had asked her out on a date and whatever she meant by watching out for her door. Her dad was surprised that out of all the friends she had made at Arlington it was actually Karolina whom she had a crush on (she had to tell him since she couldn’t hide her joy).

“My first guess was that girl Claire who kindly gave us the recipes for Christmas dinner”, Papa Scholar said as he found out about the source of her daughter’s disturbance.

“Funny you guessed Claire, dad”, sighed Scholar remembering the fatal mistletoe incident.

“Why funny?”

“Oh dad, it’s just… a long story”, Scholar said.

“Well, I have to say that Karolina girl is drop dead gorgeous and if you say she is nicer to you, I believe you. When can you invite her here?”

“Dad! We’re not even… I mean, we almost … kissed b-but …”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it”, said Papa Scholar.

“Actually dad, can you let me check who it is?”, jumped Scholar as she headed to the door.

She peaked from the door peephole. On the other side there was a guy looking like a delivery man.

“H-hello? Who is it?”, Scholar asked.

“Good afternoon, I have a delivery for a person named Scholar”, the guy answered from the other side.

Scholar opened the door, the man was carrying a golden plastic bag with a red bow on the outside.

“Hi, I’m Scholar”

“Oh great, I’m supposed to deliver this”, he handed her the bag, “please sign here… and here”

Scholar did as he requested and looked at the bag, it looked very elegant for a plastic bag.

“Thank you, merry Christmas, ma’am”

“Thank you too, merry Christmas!”

Scholar walked towards the living room holding the odd bag on her right hand. She took a seat on the couch and placed the bag on top of the table, slowly opening it. There was a card and a small black box on the inside. She took out the small box and opened it being startled by its content. It was an astonishing silver necklace with a sapphire pendant on the center, tiny diamonds seemed to surround the almost heart-shaped figure of the pendant. Papa Scholar couldn’t believe his eyes either, he got the card out and gasped.

“Honey, you need to read the card, look”, Papa Scholar said as he handed it out for her.

Scholar took the card in her shaky hands and opened it carefully:

“Hopefully this starts your way into the better fashion sense you desperately need… Merry Christmas, Karolina”

Scholar lost no time and rushed to get her cellphone. Please answer, please answer, she thought as she heard the dialing tone.

“Hi”, she heard Karolina’s voice answer.

“I-I-… Oh god, I-I can’t even… It’s so beautiful!”, Scholar tried to say forgetting how to speak.

“I am glad you like it.”

“I just… wow… thank you! How did you know where I live?”

“Uh-oh, guess who, Scholar”, she heard Tegan’s voice say.

“Y-you! From the time we played together… should had figured. “, Scholar said laughing.

“You got me, hehe. I’ll give Karol back her cell phone. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Tegan!”

“I am sorry I had to ask him”

“Don’t be sorry, I love it”, Scholar said, almost as much as I love you, she thought, “I didn’t get you anything for Christmas, I feel awful, you went through all this and I-“

“I don’t need you to get me anything, just everything you’ve done for me and … how much I … I can’t tell you on the phone, ok?”, Karolina said.

“… s-sure. Thank you so much, Karol”, was it the first time she called her Karol out loud?

“Besides I already feel like I have my Christmas gift… Anyway, our father is calling us. Merry Christmas, Scholar”

“Merry Christmas, Karol”, Scholar replied and added, “I… you know I do too, for a while now if I’m honest.”

“I kind of knew but didn’t want to see it… Enjoy your night”

“Y-you too. Bye”.

 This was definitely the best Christmas she could had ever imagined, she only wished she could had thanked her in person but soon, very soon they will be able to figure it out.

END

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you guys like it! The ending was rushed because it’s super late here so sorry for that.

[delphinidin4]

Somebody asked a question about valid readings of literature (I have a doctorate in literature and have taught it on the college level), and i had a migraine this morning, so i’m sorry if this comes out a little coherent, but i’mma post it anyway. here’s the thing i think people don’t always get about the study of literature:

1. there isn’t just one correct reading of anything in literature

2.the bar for something being a valid reading is significantly lower than you might think.

What constitutes a “valid reading” is ultimately a personal decision by the person reading the literary criticism: do you think the person do the criticism/analysis made their case? If so, their reading could be considered “valid”, even if you don’t personally agree with it. If not, their reading might not be considered “valid”, even if you think they have interesting points. The point in writing literary analysis/criticism is to make your case well enough that people have to concede that your argument is valid even if they don’t really believe it themselves.

For instance, there are elaborate analyses of books done in Freudian analysis: taking one of Freud’s psychological theories and applying it to the work of literature. You might think Freud’s psychological theories are bullshit, in which case you might hate/disbelieve those literary readings, but if they hold together well enough, they might be considered valid.

this is also where “death of the author” comes in. because you can never truly prove exactly what the author meant to do/say with their literature, even if they tell you so! Poe wrote an essay on his writing technique, in which he claimed that when writing The Raven he started out with the bird being a parrot and then decided a raven would be more metal and better in keeping with the tone of the poem. And a huge number of literary scholars (including myself) think Poe was probably talking out of his ass there, and just knew/learned that ravens could be taught to speak, and was like, “Hey, that gives me an idea for a HELLA gothic poem,” and went and wrote it. And then later folks were like, “prove to us that you’re a REAL writer? What’s your method?” and poe was like, “Oh yes, I think everything through very clearly and rationally” rather than tellign the truth and being like, “this sounded rad so i wrote it that way because of feels.”

Also, sometimes people will write something that, for instance, reveals their subconscious beliefs about race. They might not realize when they’re writing it that their writing does that, but other people can point it out later, and that can be a valid reading. Sometimes the author doesn’t recognize the ways in which their unconscious beliefs and prejudices manifest themselves in their work. And in those readings, it really doesn’t matter what the author meant: it just matters what the work SAYS. Or might be read to say.

There’s also the fact that we can never truly get inside the heads of the original audience of a work once enough time has passed. it’s great to learn something about, say, Elizabethan English culture and use that to make a reading of something Shakespeare said, and those can be totally valid (and very interesting!) readings. but at the same time, one of shakespeare’s plays is going to feel completely different to a modern audience than it did to an audience at the time. For instance, changing attitudes toward race and rape and sexual equality can really change the way we read a work that’s only a couple of decades old. A reading can explain the way the original audience might have read it, or the way we read it now, or both. All of those can be valid readings, as long as it takes things like changing audience into account (for instance, if there’s a concept that’s brand new in world thought, and you’re trying to apply it to a four-hundred-year-old piece of literature, you should probably mention somewhere in your analysis that people didn’t think this way at the time the work was written. Soemtimes you can get away with not saying these disclaimers directly; other times you need ot make them. No hard and fast rules.)

In order to make a valid reading, you should make sure that you have lots of evidence from a text to back up your reading. If possible, you can support your reading with outside sources (explanations of historical cultural beliefs, for instance). You can base your reading on a theoretical framework (eg Freudian literary theory, Marxist literary theory, feminist literary theory). If your argument holds together, doesn’t have huge holes in it, and satisfies your readers, they may declare it a valid reading.

an example:

on the surface, Romeo and Juliet can be read as a dramatic tragic piece, made to move the audience, who hopefully may be identifying with romeo and/or juliet. the story is sad, we’re sad for them, we enjoy having a good cry and the catharsis that comes with it. that’s a pretty basic interpretation.

i’ve seen another interpretation, from John Greene on Youtube, that argues that Shakespeare set the play in Italy because the English at the time considered Italians to be hot-headed and vengeful and they’d never believe a revenge plot of this kind if it were set in England. And also that Romeo and Juliet were made to be teenagers in the story because only teengers would do something this insane for love, because teenage emotions are extremely heightened, and that part of the reason this is a tragedy is because NONE of this had to happen if somebody who wasn’t a teenager (or apparently wasn’t Italian lol) had stepped in and managed to impart some reason to everybody.

Both of these reading are totally valid. Both of them can also co-exist: they can both be correct at once. I can be feeling bad for romeo and juliet and be sad for them, and at the same time, part of my brain can be like, “Holy Fuck, Friar Lawrence, what the fucking fuck made you think that was good advice??!! also, kids, stop what you’re doing for five seconds and remember that you’re fifteen and thirteen and the world isn’t ending i promise.” Not only are these both valid readings, they can both be valid at once. they are not mutually exclusive.

My post-migraine brain doesn’t know whether any of this made sense or not, and honestly, part of the problem is that there are no hard-and-fast rules about literary analysis. but i hope that helped? 

[onenerdtwonagas]

A Doctor & A Vampire (Regency/Vampire au)

It had been roughly a month since Doctor Uriah Hoffman had decided to take up the offer presented to him. The Nocturne estate had greeted him in all its solitary grandeur. The grounds, covered in lush gardens of wide variety, were nestled comfortably in the middle of the woods and hills. There was a pristine lake just a brief walk away, which could be seen from the highest points of the manor, that reflected the morning sun like a brilliant mirror. With so much ample ground under the noble family’s jurisdiction, it was a biologist’s dream. And to think the eldest son had taken interest in his work, enough to sponsor him and even provide lodgings within the manor itself, was enough to make the young scholar pinch himself several times a day for the first week.

But time had passed, and he had been given full leisure of the study, the library, and free roam of the grounds. Every so many days, the young Lord Nocturne would take his tea or coffee with the doctor to inquire after his studies. They’d discuss other topics as well, of course. Music, literature, politics—the latter of which Lord Nocturne was much more educated on—were all touched upon at one point or another. It didn’t take long before Uriah found the other man’s company to be just as agreeable as the beautiful lands he owned. Perhaps more so. Which was a dangerous thought.

To be fond of men was trouble enough, but to be fond of a nobleman... Well, times and society weren’t kind to that sort of behavior. How he wished it were different. Having to dodge debutantes and their desire for proposals every social season since he had become of age had become quite the tiresome endeavor. He was glad to escape it within the halls of Nocturne estate.

But the young lord was swiftly beginning to prove steep competition for Uriah’s attention. When he caught glimpses of his dark hair and vividly blue eyes, he found it increasingly difficult to focus on whichever text or sample he had previously been pouring over. His laugh was warm and infectious during their discussions. He had an effortlessly charming smile. Uriah wondered how he hadn’t found someone to marry. Surely dozens of women had vied for his affection.

But...that wasn’t his place to question. So he poured himself ever further into his work. Botany was a tricky study, but there was no greater time than the summer, when so many blooms were coming in.

He was shut in the study late in the evening, working my lamplight at dissecting a rose he had carefully selected from the garden that afternoon. Perhaps if he learned enough about this particular specimen, he could try crossing it with another to create a hardier breed. Roses were so terribly fickle—

“Still toiling away at this late hour?”

He nearly leapt out of his skin. Uriah whirled around and stared back at the Lord, frozen by the yelp his guest had let out. And then he dissolved into laughter and leant against a bookshelf for support.

“Good God, you cry out like that and the staff will think I’ve struck you!”

“You might as well have, sneaking in on me like that!”

Uriah felt his cheeks burn as he smoothed his hair back and tried to readjust himself in his seat. Lord Nocturne wiped a tear from his eye and calmed himself.

“Sneaking? It is my manor, good sir. Perhaps I’ll sneak and slink about as I like,” he chimed, folding his arms and propping a hip against the side of the mahogany table Uriah worked on. He cocked his head, watching him continue with his careful dissection. Uriah could sense eyes on him, but kept his gaze down. Out of...shyness? Proper manners? Focus? He couldn’t tell.

“I could watch you all day,” Lord Nocturne murmured.

“Pardon?”

“Your hands. You’re quite good with them.”

That made Uriah look up, one brow quirked. The lord chuckled and tilted his chin downwards.

“Your dissections, I mean. It’s like watching an artist at work. A master at your craft.”

“Dissection is merely one minor component of the craft, my lord,” Uriah sighed, shaking his head. He deftly removed a petal and set it aside.

“Orpheus.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve lived here for a month now. You can simply call me Orpheus.”

Uriah swallowed.

“I...would not want to be improper.”

“Oh, listen to you, more tied-up than a blushing new debutante,” he chuckled. “Improper, he says... Would it truly be so terrible to call one another by our first names, Doctor Hoffman? Aren’t we good friends by now?”

“Well, I suppose so.”

“You suppose so?”

Uriah rolled his eyes and tried not to let his smirk show too broadly.

“Are you a lord or a parrot?”

“See? Just that! You think I’d let anyone poke fun at me that way? Come now, call me Orpheus and I’ll call you Uriah.”

He sighed, shaking his head and setting his work down once more. Uriah slumped back in his chair and flung his hands up.

“Very well, it’s your manor, as you said. Orpheus.”

A genuine smile washed across the lord’s face. He truly did have a devilishly handsome smile. Uriah found it all too easy to look at.

“Very good, Uriah. I like that much better.”

“I suppose you get tired of all the formality? Is that it?”

“More or less. It can be tiring. Oh, of course, I recognize the privileges of being of noble birth, the wealth, the prestige, on and on and—well. You know,” he sighed, shooing away an imaginary fly.

“But it’s a comfort to have those who address you by name rather than title. I rather like having someone I can simply be myself with. Not ‘Young Lord Nocturne’. Just Orpheus.”

“I see,” Uriah mused, propping his head in one hand. “And who exactly is, ‘just Orpheus’, hmm? How different is he from his titled self?”

Orpheus sighed and clicked his tongue against his teeth. He turned his attention to one of the tall, wide windows that adorned the outer-facing wall of the study, approaching with languid steps. He pulled back the curtain and stared out at the wide, white moon that shone over the grounds, and the glittering stars that hung in the night sky.

“Someone who would shock proper society,” he answered at length. He glanced back over his shoulder at Uriah. “Perhaps I would shock you, as well.”

That look. Uriah wasn’t entirely innocent to a longing stare from across a ballroom floor. But he was suddenly tense. For such a smoldering gaze to come from him, from someone that charismatic and charming... It felt dangerous.

“Come,” Orpheus said, tilting his head towards the glass. “It’s a lovely night; you should look.”

Uriah held his breath for a long, quiet moment. Orpheus beckoned him over with a playful flick of the wrist. Exhaling heavily, Uriah obeyed the summons, and crossed the floor with hesitant steps. Orpheus was right; it did look like a lovely evening. The air would be warm, and the gardens’ abundant blossoms would adorn the breeze with their scent. It was the perfect night for the city’s social elites and their offspring to be dancing the hours away, toasting to newly agreed upon proposals, spreading the most recent gossip...

“It is beautiful,” Uriah consented.

“Yes. Beautiful.”

Something, he wasn’t sure what, made Uriah turn and look up at Orpheus. He was surprised to see the lord’s eyes not on the view outside, but on him instead. And so very, very intense. His blue eyes seemed to glow in the evening light away from the lamp at the table. They looked like the moon itself. Very much so. Almost...almost ethereal....

Wait, were they truly glowing?

“You...your eyes...”

His words weren’t coming easily to him. Uriah’s brow furrowed and he tried to think of the rest of the sentence he had started. He could speak perfectly well, so why could he not speak just then? And why could he not look away from those eyes? His eyes...

Uriah tried to move, to step back from the window, but his legs felt heavy, as if his boots were made of lead. He took one staggering step backwards, his spine meeting with the end of a tall bookshelf. Orpheus remained still, though his hand dropped from the curtain. His eyes retained their ethereal glow.

“Y-Your eyes...glowing...”

“Easy now,” Orpheus said softly. “Don’t fight it, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Uriah tried to support himself against the wood, hands struggling for a proper grip. He should have been afraid, but the inescapable stare of Orpheus’ eyes sent an eerie calm over him. He stared back like a timid deer, caught in a strange trap he couldn’t prossibly explain.

“What...w-what are you—“

His knees failed him, and he felt his body give in to the force of gravity. Rather than hitting the floor as expected, however, Orpheus leant forward to catch him in the bend of one arm, holding him up.

“It’s alright,” Orpheus soothed. “You’re alright. Just look at me.”

What choice did he have? Orpheus held him there, the glow of his eyes sending cognitive thoughts scattering to the farthest reaches of Uriah’s mind. His spare hand brushed the doctor’s hair back from his face, tracing the curve of his jaw, seducing him with every touch.

Uriah’s body slackened further until he was as weak and pliant as a rag doll, the lord scooping him up against his chest and carrying him from the study. Had he been able to look anywhere but up at the lord’s face, he would have noticed no staff were present in the halls. It was as if they were entirely alone. This handsome lord and him, entirely weak and defenseless. It frightened him enough that a whimper escaped.

“Hush, I won’t harm you,” Orpheus crooned, his voice like velvet. “I promise.”

The door to the lord’s chambers was open. Luxurious sheets and blankets lined a large four poster bed. Paintings and pastels hung on the walls. A gentle fire crackled in his private hearth, it’s flickering glow cast about the room. Uriah’s vision swam as Orpheus nudged the door shut.

“I know what this must look like, dear Uriah, but I promise I’m not that sort of man,” Orpheus explained, voice soft. “I simply prefer not to risk intrusion. The study provides an opportunity for such.”

Uriah felt the lord seat himself on the edge of the bed, holding him in his lap. The bedside table had several odd bottles, and a bowl of steaming water with fresh cloths set aside. Even in a more clearheaded state, Uriah couldn’t have discerned what they were all for.

He was further distracted by the loosening of his shirt collar, the fabric slipping down past his shoulder. He could feel Orpheus’s fingers brushing over his skin, stroking his collarbone and caressing his neck. He stared up at him in mute confusion.

“Be still for me, now,” Orpheus whispered. Something about his mouth caught Uriah’s attention. His teeth...they looked so very sharp...

“You won’t feel a single thing...”

Lips brushed his neck. Uriah shivered. And then he felt a gentle prick, and the warmth of Orpheus’s mouth on his skin. It all seemed to make sense, then. The glow of his eyes, the seductiveness of his voice, the pointed fangs...

He could feel the flash of Orpheus’s throat as he swallowed, the gentle stroke of his fingers in his hair as he cradled his head in one hand, the brush of his other thumb against his hand as it lay limp in his lap. Uriah could only stare blankly up at the canopy of the bed, mind and vision reverberating, his senses dulled and his body docile. But the word bounced back and forth in his mind all the same:

Vampire. Vampire. Vampire...

It felt like a strange sort of eternity before Orpheus released his throat, fangs deftly retreating from smooth skin. His tongue ran over the wound, ensuring not a single drop was wasted. Somehow, he felt weaker than he had before. How could anyone be any less defenseless than a doll? That’s what he felt like, a doll in Orpheus’s arms. He should have been terrified, and yet, as Orpheus reached across him to dampen a cloth and placed it gently against Uriah’s throat, he felt safe.

“There. Not a bit of harm done,” Orpheus whispered. “Just as I promised. And you’ve already stopped bleeding. Wonderful.”

The glow was gone from Orpheus’s eyes, but it still held power over Uriah. The young man was only barely beginning to gain back his mind, but the exhaustion of being fed off of still claimed his tongue. When he attempted to form words, all that came out was a pitiful moan. Orpheus looked down with a knowing sympathy, and exchanged his cleaning rag for one of the bottles.

“I don’t suppose you’re well enough to drink on your own? ...Hmm. Doesn’t appear so. If you’ll pardon me for this,” he sighed, deftly flicking the cork out and taking a swig.

He tilted Uriah’s head back and brought their mouths together. Had his mind been better collected, he might’ve had the sense to be embarrassed by the intimacy of the gesture, but instinct took hold instead. He drank like he hadn’t in days, his body desperate to regain its strength. By the third time, Uriah was capable of drinking straight from the bottle itself, with Orpheus’s support of course.

“W-What,” Uriah gasped weakly, “have you done to me?”

“Exhausted you, I’m afraid,” Orpheus answered apologetically.

“But that should help you get your wits back. Powerful elixir, that one. I was hoping you might not need it, but it seems I went just a little over your threshold.”

Uriah shook his head.

“You...vampire...”

“Ah, yes, well—“ Orpheus shrugged. “—there is that. But you’re still weak, precious. It’s a conversation we can have after you rest.”

Uriah wanted to protest. His hand grasped at the lord’s sleeve, only for his fingers to go slack immediately and his limb to fall back to his lap. Orpheus lifted him as easily as if he were carrying a child and flicked back the covers of the bed. He set Uriah down and unfastened his boots and the buttons of his vest, easing the garments off before pulling the blankets back over him.

“You’ll be more comfortable that way. A night’s rest should put you back in sorts.”

“O-Orpheus,” Uriah stammered, “don’t...don’t leave me like this... I can’t—if something h-happens—“

“Hush, I’m not leaving,” Orpheus interrupted. “You’re not fit to be left unattended in this state. I’ll keep watch.”

Their eyes met again, and for a moment Orpheus merely watched him, head slightly tilted. Uriah wondered what he was thinking. A part of him imagined the lord biting into his neck again, and another...another wanted to know if those fangs made kisses painful. But neither curiosity was satisfied. As Orpheus reached out a hand and brushed it along Uriah’s cheek, his eyes glowed once more.

“Sleep now, Uriah,” he whispered. “Sleep.”

The command echoed inside his head and he tried to resist. He wanted answers to his questions. But Orpheus repeated himself once more, and Uriah felt the moonlike glow of the lord’s eyes and the softness of his voice pull him down deep.

—

The bed was so warm, so soft. Were his sheets in his gifted room always so comfortable? His head shifted against the pillow and his eyes blinked open sluggishly. Strange. He didn’t remember his bed having curtains, or posts. He didn’t recall going to his bed, either. And that’s when it came flooding back. Uriah sat bolt upright with a start, kicking his legs free of the sheets and grasping for the curtain. He flung it open and looked around wildly before—

“Ah, good morning, doctor.”

Orpheus sat on a chair by the now extinguished fire, looking positively casual. His legs were crossed neatly, eyes glancing up from a little book he held in his hands, and his expression as innocent as if nothing had happened the night before. Uriah nearly fell on his face as he scrambled out of the bed. He pointed a shaking, accusatory finger at him.

“You!”

“Me?”

“Y-You bit me! You’re a—“

He froze, and then whirled on his heels, searching for—ah, there! He ran to a gilded mirror on the wall and pulled his shirt collar away from his neck, hands fumbling over his skin. Behind him, Orpheus chuckled and shook his head, snapping his book closed.

“You won’t find any evidence. I’m not some barbaric leech from the dark ages.”

“But you—y-your teeth! You had fangs! How could you not?”

“Only a careless or sadistic vampire leaves marks,” the lord explained, as if it were common knowledge. “Our teeth pierce flesh, but our tongues can heal it. Though I’m not quite sure how, exactly. Perhaps a new subject for you to study?”

“Don’t mock me! I know what you did! I know you’re a vampire!”

“I never denied it.”

“And for God’s sake, you—Hell! You undressed me!”

Uriah turned crimson as he stared down at himself in nothing but a disheveled shirt and trousers. Where was his vest? His good boots? That nice necktie his mother had sent him as a congratulatory gift! And to make matters worse, Orpheus was watching with clear and obvious amusement, smiling cheekily like a child.

“I did not strip you bare, did I? Please, if I wanted to lure you to bed, dear Uriah, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have need of my powers. I would have you undressing willingly without them.”

“I—“

Orpheus quirked one eyebrow, his smile turning to a smirk.

“You—You dog,” Uriah muttered. He spotted his vest at last and began redressing himself, back turned towards the lord in a last-ditch effort to win the conversation. He knew Orpheus was watching, regardless, and that only made his face feel warmer. He absolutely wouldn’t admit it, but a part of him knew Orpheus was right. If he had made advances, he wouldn’t exactly have said ‘no’.

He swore under his breath as his tie gave him trouble, and he began again for the third time. The lord sighed from his chair behind him, and rose to his feet.

“Allow me,” he offered. Uriah flinched at how suddenly Orpheus stood before him, strong hands undoing the incorrect knot and smoothing the fabric to try again. He worked much slower, to the point Uriah knew he was simply savoring the moment.

“I have a...proposition for you,” Orpheus started, his words patient and measured. “Would you care to hear it?”

Uriah exhaled through his nose.

“I don’t see how I have a choice in the matter.”

The lord’s mouth twitched upward.

“Well, my dear doctor, it seems we’re both in need of something, yes? You, a highly talented scholar in need of a benefactor for your work, and I, a noble who also so happens to be a vampire in need of blood from time to time.”

“...Go on,” Uriah prodded, still at the mercy of Orpheus’s purposefully snail-paced hands.

“Let’s say we make an arrangement, hmm? You give me just a little blood when I need it, not a drop more, and I, in turn, give you whatever you want.”

“You...want to make this a business contract of some kind?” Uriah asked hesitantly, finally daring to look up at Orpheus. The lord’s eyes were intense, smoldering. His hands finished the knot of Uriah’s tie suddenly and he tugged him closer, chin forced upwards.

“It doesn’t have to strictly be business,” he purred. “You don’t think you’re the only one tired of dodging single girls and their pushy mothers, do you?”

Uriah swallowed. He remained still, and so did Orpheus, their noses so close to touching.

“A-And...if I were to say ‘no?’”

“Oh, well, then I’d have to erase your memory of last night and you’d simply stay your originally intended time,” Orpheus answered, shrugging. Then he leaned in closer, his cheek barely brushing Uriah’s, and whispered into his ear.

“But something tells me you don’t truly want to forget.”

A shudder ran the entire length of Uriah’s spine. He stared into Orpheus’s eyes as he straightened up, charming smirk and all. Even without the glow of his eyes, or whatever supernatural charms had held him fast the night before, Uriah knew: Orpheus had him. He was utterly snared, and had no hope from Heaven or Hell of untangling himself.

“What say you then, Doctor Hoffman?”

“...Call me Uriah.”

[anathewierdo]

Call of the Ocean Chapter 3: Don’t Want to Be Queen

Pairing: CEO!Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Mermaid!Reader

Word count: 4244

Chapter summary: Y/N visits the surface once more, only this time she’s not alone. She learns a bit more about the human world and about who will be competing for her hand at the tournament.

Series summary: CEO of Winchester Auto Dean Winchester has had enough of the office life. With his father keeping him from what he wants to do, which is work on the plant floor, Dean decides to leave for a quiet life. In Matagorda, Texas, he finds something he never thought he would, a chance encounter with a mythical creature.

Call of the Ocean Masterlist

A/N: Chapter 4 will be posted on August 26th (this Wednesday). This series is a collaboration with @flamencodiva​ Text dividers were made by the awesome @talesmaniac89​

Y/N swam through the secret door, looking around at all the different shelves filled with scrolls. 

She found herself letting her fingers graze through each one. Her eyes darted through the room… She had never seen any of this. The paintings, the ancient-looking and not-so-ancient-looking scrolls, even a couple of objects she didn’t even know existed. She marveled at the way they were organized and froze when one caught her eye. 

“The humans and the world around them,” she read the title softly. “Wonder what this one is about.” 

Reaching for it, she opened it. There on the parchment the words seemed to come alive. Pictures seemed to dance around her as she read the words on the page. 

“Human females cover all of their parts,” she read. “A human female has never shown her skin to a male.” Y/N raised an eyebrow at the scroll before tilting her head. “That’s not what I saw when I was up there.” she tilted her head at the words on the scroll. 

When she looked up from the waves, she remembered seeing the human girls showing skin. They used some very small clothing… perhaps the scholar who wrote this scroll had gotten something wrong. 

“Maybe I should look at another scroll,” Y/N rolled up the current scroll she was reading and placed it back. She traced her fingers over a couple more of the scrolls, and decided to take a less older-looking one.

In this scroll she tilted her head at the garbage and filth that lay on the beaches. She frowned at the thought. How could they destroy something so beautiful? As she continued to read, she found a description of other humans who cleaned up the beach. Of those who fought for the sea creatures. A smile graced her lips as she envisioned humans fighting to protect the ocean. 

She realized, humans were just like mermaids. Not everyone was the same, not everyone was kind. She cheered silently at the thought and hoped that the green-eyed man was a kind human. Moving on to the next part of the scroll, she noticed a difference in the way they dressed. The women seemed to be showing skin and the men had long hair and were bare chested. She even took note of the different colors of the human skin. Some were dark, other lights, and some had flowers on them! As she continued looking over the scroll, she noticed the women covering their legs and tops with decorative things.  

Much of what Y/N saw made her smile. The clothing looked similar to what many of the humans she saw would wear. It was colorful and vibrant and they were all happy to be out enjoying life. She read about the music and wished that she could hear what it sounded like. 

“Well that sounds more like what I saw up there,” Y/N thought to herself out loud. 

A couple hours and several scrolls of human life later, Y/N swam around the palace. She watched as many of the merpeople were decorating the halls. With her birthday coming up in two weeks, the arrangements for the celebration were beginning and while she was excited, she was scared of what her father would do. It wasn’t long until she found her way to the ballroom’s balcony, overlooking the kingdom. She leaned on the banister and sighed, her thoughts on the human who seemed sad. She wanted to head back to him and show herself, maybe make him happy. 

 “Let it go, Y/N.” Thasman swam up next to her and rolled his eyes.  

“Huh?” she came out of her daydream and looked at him. 

“Whatever you saw up there, whatever you’re thinking about, just let it go. Your place is here, with our people, not up there in the human world.” Thasman placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. 

“Thasman…” Y/N sighed, “I can’t stop thinking about him. You know that, I know that.” she gently took his hand off her shoulder and turned to face the ballroom. “If you would have seen him, you would know that I want to help him.” 

 “Believe me, it is very clear that you want to help him,” Thasman reassured her, “but how exactly would you do that, huh? How would you even show yourself to him? You can’t tell him what you are, he can’t exactly breathe underwater, and what if he decides that you can bring him wealth and fame showing you off to the other humans?” the merman took a deep breath, trying to keep all those awful thoughts at bay, “We can’t afford to lose you. I am not going to lose my friend like that.”

“I know… but,” she took in a deep breath, “I want to at least try. I just want to be his friend… you know what our people can do, Thasman. It’s only because of my father's decree that we don’t do it,” she looked down at her tail. “I have an Idea.” 

 “You’re not going up there,” Thasman clarified. “No way. No. Whatever you’re thinking, stop. You’ll get us in trouble.”

“If you come with me you can protect me,” she sang as she began to swim away from the palace. “As my personal guard, it is your duty after all.”

Thasman swore in mermish, exasperated by what was most likely about to happen “I hate you, you know? Wait- wait dammit! Don’t swim too fast! If you’re gonna go up there, you stay close so I can keep an eye on you, are we clear?”

“I’ll race you!” she laughed as she moved her way towards an ocean current. “Can’t catch me, Thas!” 

At the same time, Y/N laughed as she barrel rolled along the current. She loved that she would try out being on the surface. Looking back she smiled at Thasman. 

“Why are you swimming like a sea snail?” she called back to him. 

“You take that back! I’m swimming just as fast as you are!” Thasman huffed as he pushed faster. 

“Nope, you are swimming like a sea snail,” she giggled and faced her back to the ocean floor swimming backwards, “if you were swimming as fast as me you’d be in front of me.” 

“Whatever! What do you even want to do on the surface anyway?!” He protested.

“You’ll see!” she called back as she adjusted her sea skirt. Really it was made of cloth that ended up on the bottom of the ocean floor from shipwrecks. 

Eventually, they reached the reef, and Y/N looked around for anything suspicious before swimming towards the shore. Closing her eyes, she carefully made her way up to the water's surface and smiled. There was no one on the beach and it was perfect for exploring. As she reached the sand she used her arms to crawl deeper into the shore. When she was far enough away she could feel her scales dry out. She watched as they shimmered and began to disappear, her fins forming feet and she squealed with delight.  

“Thasman, look!” she exclaimed as she wiggled the weird forms at the end of her legs. Thasman wasn’t far behind her, his own fin disappearing and giving way to the strange forms humans have.

“I am looking! We should head back. This is not a good idea, Y/N! Some humans could see us here!” Thasman looked around nervously. 

“Oh don’t be a guppy!” she called back as she tried to stand up. Her knees felt weak and she tried to balance on them. “How do humans do this all the time?” she sighed as she grabbed onto a rock to stabilize herself. 

“They’re humans. Nothing makes sense when it comes to them. They’re strange and stupid and extremely dangerous all at the same time,” Thasman complained as he too tried to get some balance on his new human form while reaching out to try and help Y/N, “now, what is your plan, huh? Why on Poseidon’s blue ocean would we come up here now?” 

She pointed to Dean’s house, “I want to take a closer look at their dwellings.” She placed her hand out to her sides as she moved her new form slowly, “It’s fascinating.” 

“It’s stupid,” grumbled Thasman, trying to stay as close to Y/N as possible to try and protect her in case of any danger. Even in the dim moonlight, Y/N could see his face lose color as realisation came over him. “You actually want to go inside, don’t you? You’re completely insane!”

“I just want to understand it. How does it work? How do you get in?” She used her hands to help herself up the stairs. She looked like a toddler crawling up the wooden stairs leading up to the door. Once on the landing, she balanced herself again and placed her hand on the door. “This is strange. What is this?” she let her hands roam across the glass and wood. 

However, before she could even try to grasp the door knob, Thasman took hold of her wrist and put her behind him.

“If we are going to go inside this place, you go behind me, is that clear? If something goes wrong here, you go back, ok?” Thasman smiled. 

Y/N rolled her eyes annoyed with him, “I can handle myself. But if it makes you happy I will stay behind you.” She sighed. 

Thasman examined the strange object that denied them entrance. He then gazed at the round object that poked out of it and touched it hesitantly. He jumped when a cold sensation hit him. Tilting his head he looked back at Y/N and rolled his eyes when she urged him to do something. Thasman took in a deep breath and pushed in the door knob… nothing happened. Thasman tilted his head and placed his palm on the knob, pushing it again. Y/N thought back to when she watched the male human who lived here and smiled. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” she sang as she reached past Thasman and wrapped her fingers around the round thing and twisted it. While the strange object made a noise, it would not move. “I guess there is more to it... look,” she pointed to the keyhole. “What is that?” 

“I don’t know,” Thasman replied, “not human, remember?”

Y/N rolled her eyes again. “I know that, Thas,” she sighed, “I guess there is nothing else we can do. But, one day I want to go inside and explore… look… you can see inside at all the trinkets. I wonder what they all do.” she pressed her face against the glass and tried to get a good look at everything. 

“Yeah, sure, you’ll get a chance to stalk the human later, Y/N, I promise” Thasman jokes. “Seriously, though, if you come here, don’t come alone, ok? You look for me and then we come here. You need to stay safe.”

“I promise,” Y/N dismissed him as she pulled back. “We should get back home before Father begins to send out guards to look for me. If he asks, we went to the caves to look for more seaurchines.” she slowly made her way down the stairs and back to the seashore. As she got deeper into the water, she could feel her legs turning back into her fin. Thasman followed as quickly as he could as they both swam back towards the palace. 

Y/N and Thasman made it back in record time. Y/N giggled as she swam down the corridor and towards the east wing of the underwater palace. Thasman followed closely behind her. 

"Y/N," he caught up to here, "where are we going?" 

"The room of ancient texts," she replied cheerfully. 

"Wait? What’s that?" Thasman looked at her. 

“Only a secret hidden room I found in the archives,” Y/N smiled as she swam towards the archive. 

“Wait, what!?” Thasman caught up to her and swam before her. “A secret archive? How did you find it? I thought only scholars had knowledge of a secret archive?”  

"I'm sorry… It sounds like you are saying that I am not capable of being a princess AND a scholar. Did you forget who my tutor is Thasman?" She turned to face him, shutting him down with an angry glare. 

“I didn’t mean…” He sighed. “Why do I let you talk me into these things Y/N?” He saw the smirk on her face.

“Come on,” she made her way to the archives and pushed the large intricate coral door. “Liara? Are you here?” Y/N made her way through the aisles of shelves stacked with scrolls. 

“What brings you here, my child?” Liara said as she arose from her seat.

“I want to read anything we have about the surface world,” she leaned in and smiled. “I know we have some, father likes to think that they were destroyed but… I may have seen you come out of a secret room? A room filled with scrolls about humans…? ” Y/N shrugged innocently. 

 “What?! The amount of problems I would have if I even had such a section, or to make things worse, show it to you, would be huge!” The scholar looked to Y/N as if she was crazy. 

“Please Liara? I really need to learn more about the world beyond the waves,” she pleaded with her tutor, “You always said an absence of knowledge can lead to ignorance,” she folded her hands and pouted her lips. 

 “I never thought I would regret saying that to you…” Liara rolled her eyes at the young princess, a tingle of amusement present in her eyes. The scholar seemed to entertain the idea before getting serious “What I’m about to do never happened, do I make myself clear?”

“Thank you!” Y/N breathed as she gave Thasman a satisfied smile, “See, we can learn more and read up on the human world.” She followed Liara to a dark corner of the archives. 

“Y/N, we shouldn’t be reading any of this,” he whispered as they followed Liara into a secluded section. 

“You have nothing to fear, Thasman,” Liara drawled, “Much of the text does outline the dangers that humans possess. But it also gives us information on their world and how they do things.” 

“But Liara,” Thasman interjected, “she doesn’t understand that humans are dangerous, more dangerous than friendly.” 

“I am not a jellyfish!” Y/N growled, “I am not naive but I am also not going to be closed minded and filet all humans for the actions of the few!” she glared at Thasman. 

“I really don’t believe that your interest for one lonely human is worth risking Liara’s, yours, and my safety. You know the consequences for all this, Y/N/N.” The merman sassed. 

“What human?” Liara asked Thasman. “Y/N what is he talking about?” she crossed her arms looking at the two. 

“Nothing,” Y/N avoided looking at her tutor and the closest thing she had to a mother. 

“When it comes to you, sweetshell, it’s never nothing,” Liara smiled kindly, before looking back at Thasman. “So tell me, what human?”

“Well, he has a dwelling close to the shore and,” Y/N blushed, “he’s handsome, but he looks so sad, Liara. I want to help him and comfort him, be his friend.” 

“It’s ludicrous and dangerous, Y/N/N,” Thasman pointed out, again.

“But he isn’t, I can tell. There is a kindness to him,” she looked to Liana, “I want to be able to meet him and know of humans before I mess up anything.” 

Liara nodded, seemingly understanding the young princess. “Alright,” she said, “if you really think so, alright then.” The scholar’s answer left Thasman with his jaw hanging open. He really was expecting his guardian to put an end to the Princess’ crazy plan of getting closer to the human, not encouraging it. 

Liara led them through another turn, and stopped in front of the painting Y/N had seen before. Thasman and Y/N watched as she pressed her fingers onto the painting and a small click could be heard. A secret door opened up as Thasman’s jaw dropped. 

“I— This— How?” Thasman followed the two merwomen inside the secret room. 

“I read about some strange time and there were strange customs,” Y/N whispered as she let her fingers graze over a scroll with intricate gold writing. 

“Yes, well this one,” — Liara reached for a scroll — “ tells us about their differences,” Liara pointed to the diagrams. “As you can see they have different shapes and sizes as well as different colors on their skin, like us.” 

“So they are different, just like the differences of our tail colors?” Y/N said as she tilted her head at the different human depictions. 

“Well I think they are more like our top halves than our tails, your highness,” Liara offered her a smile. “See here. You see the bone structure of a human.” 

Thasman watched as Y/N poured over the rest of the scroll. She seemed to be studying it intently.  The young warrior found another scroll and looked at it. This one depicted the different tools the humans would use. 

“It says they have a small trident that they use as a way to comb their hair?” he raised his eyebrow at the notion. “That doesn’t sound right?”   

“And how would you know?” Y/N looked at him. 

“It just seems… impractical, is all” The merman shrugged.

“Oh,” she whispered as she looked at the scroll. She noticed the different ways that the humans were positioned. “Liara, what are they talking about in this one? What is d-da-dancing?” 

“Humans like to… move their bodies to a certain rhythm. Sometimes alone, sometimes with a partner, sometimes with several… they do it when they’re happy” Liara explained.

“How does it work?” Y/N looked at the pictures and traced her fingers over them. 

“I don’t believe that even they understand how it works… think of it like how we move to the music shells, we use our fins to move around one another… well, humans use their legs,” Liara explained. 

With Liara there with them, things weren’t so difficult to understand when it came to humans. Eventually, she ushered them out of the room, uncomfortable at the thought of the King discovering what the Princess was doing.  

“Y/N?! Has anyone seen the princess?” Nereus’s voice echoed along the corridor. 

Y/N grabbed a scroll on the ancient Mermish rituals while Thasman grabbed one on fighting techniques. Liara sighed in relief, thankful that she had closed the door to the archive. When the king entered, she bowed her head.  

“Ah,” Nereus smiled when he saw Y/N, “glad to see you are here and nowhere near the surface. And with Thasman! That is excellent.”  

“Your Highness” Thasman bowed, “has something happened?”

“On the contrary. I’m making sure that the arrangements are going well. I was planning on giving a visit to the potential competitors… I thought you would be training by now, Thasman”

Y/N looked at Thasman. He never mentioned he was a potential suitor. She felt hurt and angry. How could her best friend keep this from her? Thasman was looking at her father in surprise, and then turned around to look at her, pleading and nervous. 

“Let me explain, Y/N-” 

The princess glared at him before swimming away angrily. She ignored his calls as she swam off to her favorite hiding spot, one that she had not been at for a long time. She found a cozy spot close to the cave wall. She felt a sadness in her heart. She didn’t want to be queen. And now Thasman was one of the mermen fighting to be her king. How could he not tell her about this? How could he betray her this way? 

“Y/N, talk to me please” Thasman’s voice echoed across the cave. He swam slowly, getting closer and closer until he was just beside her.

“Go away,” she whispered. Her tail curled up as she wrapped her arms around it laying her head on top. 

She could feel his eyes on her as she turned away from him. She couldn’t face Thasman. 

“Please, listen to me. It’s not what you’re thinking. I promise, Y/N, just let me- just listen to me, and if you want me to leave I’ll- wait no screw that I’m not leaving, but you can ignore me all you want. Huh?”

Y/N turned her back to him, “you’re a liar. Let me guess,” she sneered. “All you wanted was to cater to my silliness. You just came to the human dwelling to make fun of me.” she turned and glared at him. “You know I don’t want to be queen. It won’t make me happy, Thasman. I don’t want this life!” 

“And it will be even more miserable if you are forced to marry a slippery eel who just happened to win a stupid competition to be King” Thasman snapped. “Y/N I don’t love you that way, but I just thought that you would rather have a friend by your side on your coronation day instead of some merman who is not going to care enough about you or the kingdom…” Thasman placed his hand gently on her face. “Your Highness, think about it. You can’t be Queen without a husband, and let’s face it, I’m most likely the best outcome of an awful situation”

“Thasman,” Y/N shook her head as she moved his hand from her cheek. “I am not going to be at my coronation.” 

“But you can’t do that!” He insisted, “The kingdom needs you! You know how everything works– or- or at least most of it. You can’t just turn your back on everything— “ 

“I DON’T WANT IT!” she screamed. “All my life I was groomed to be queen and all I wanted was to go to the surface and live there. Something is calling me there. Thasman, I don’t want this! And for what it’s worth, I think you would make a great king,” she caressed his cheek. “But not with me by your side.” 

Thasman sighed, unsure of how to proceed without making Y/N shut him out. After a moment, he just gave her a resigned look. “I know you don’t want this, Y/N/N, but come on. Your- You-” Thasman ran a hand across his face before pulling Y/N in for a hug. “I’ve met some of the other suitors, and trust me, you won’t exactly be excited to meet most of them.” He ran his fingers through her hair as it flowed with the current. “I know how the kingdom sees you. I know you would rather leave, but if you left, you would be signing this kingdom’s doom. I’m not suited to be a king, but what I can do is be there for my friend.”

“How does the kingdom see me?” Y/N whispered. “Do they think I'm naive? Or incapable of ruling? Because they’re right. I can’t do this Thasman. I don’t belong here.” 

“How could you not belong here?” he gave her an incredulous look filled with exasperation, “Y/N, the kingdom may think a lot about their Princess, but they do have faith in you. Look at you! Just the way you think about humans could change some things around here for the greater good!” He gave her a small smile.  “Even though sometimes your ideas do scare me…” He chuckled while holding her face in his hands. “Everyone believes you can do it. And the few who don’t are the ones who want to run this kingdom to the bottom of the Trench.” his eyes gazed into hers before he closed them taking in a deep ocean breath. “I’m not telling you not to be scared, I’m not going to tell you to suck it up. I’m doing what I’m doing because I know you can be an amazing Queen… Because when you get married, you deserve to have a friend up there with you. And not some stranger who saw you as a prize.”

Y/N let out a gasp as she felt his lips on her forehead. She could feel her heat pound in her chest at the gesture. But she wasn’t sure what was going on. She knew she liked the green-eyed human. He haunted her dreams. But now, here was Thasman, trying to protect her, even knowing that she didn’t want this kind of life. 

“Thasman…” she whispered gazing into his eyes. 

“Let’s go to the palace, your Highness,” he mumbled before pulling away from her. “We don’t need your father worrying about you. And I need to train.” 

Y/N watched as he swam away, before following after. Their swim to the palace was filled with silence as he led her to her room. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y— Princess,” he kissed her cheek before swimming off. 

Y/N watched as he disappeared around the corner just as she closed the door to her room. Maybe, she hoped, tomorrow things will not seem so complicated.

Any and all types of feedback is greatly appreciated :D

My asks are open in case you wanna send feedback, have questions or wanna be added to the tag list :)

Call of the Ocean tag list: (if your username is in bold italics, that means tumblr didn’t let me tag you)

@67-chevy-baby​ @tmiships4life @cloudyskylines​ @chelsea072498​ @carryon-doctor-lock​ @samanddeanwinchester67​ @thatgirl1456​ @satans-0-spawn​ @waywardrose13​ @secretsthathauntus​ @parinarain​ @swagfancroissantpizza​ @roonyxx​ @roxytheimmortal​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​ @rintheemolion​  @abeautifuldiaster124​ @lovely-lynns-likes​ @ladyofmaidensandwine​ @starchildwild​ @peachyafshawn​ @idksupernatural​ @mimzy1994​ @winchest09​ @katehuntington​ @superfanficnatural​ @waywardbeanie​ @janicho88​ @malfoysqueen14​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @talesmaniac89​ @emoryhemsworth​ @jensengirl83​ @atc74​ @deanwanddamons​ @crashdevlin​ @hobby27​ @eliwinchester99​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @babykalika2001 @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @sandlee44​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @desertmoths​ @cookiechipdough​ @akshi8278​ @theflamecrystal​ @tessellaneous ::;:: @mrswhozeewhatsis

[eagle-raider]

Of hidden meanings

I wrote this back in August and it’s been collecting digital dust in my draft folder ever since. To celebrate International Translation day (yes, it is a thing, and yes, it’s today) I told myself I’d post it. Behold the wall of text.

I’ve been (re) reading one of my all times favorite books, which is Les Liaisons Dangereuses (1782, Choderlos de Laclos), but in English this time – after months of trying to get my hands on a translation (the one I got is by Thomas Moore and was published in 1812).  

The book is a classic of French literature, an epistolary novel telling the story of the Marchioness de Merteuil and the Viscount de Valmont, two narcissistic rivals (and ex-lovers) who use seduction as a weapon to socially control and exploit others, all the while enjoying their cruel games and boasting about their talent for manipulation.  

The book has had several movie adaptations, ranging from the most faithful (Dangerous Liaisons, Stephen Frears, 1988) to the most forgettable (Valmont by Milos Forman, 1989), to a loosely based adaptation/Modern setting re-writing (Cruel Intentions, 1999 and that infamous tongue kiss between SMG and Selma Blair). So yeah, you’ve probably either heard of it, or seen one of those movies, or at least the gifs of that kiss.  

Now, this book has been censored to hell and back because of its depiction of amorality. It explores different subjects: revenge, manipulation, malice and even female homosexuality (briefly, but it’s there – both in the book and the movie adaptation by Frears), with feminist undertones, which, for a book written by a military man in 1782 is a real novelty.  

Yes, the Marchioness de Merteuil is a villain, if you look at the book through a Manichaean perspective (which is what the movie did), but above all, she is a victim of her time. And again, for a man to fully grasp the societal burden of women circa 1782 is absolutely unprecedented. And it’s way too real for it to be a happy coincidence.

I know this book almost by heart my copy is filled to the brim with annotations and almost all pages are dog-eared.  

Now, one of my all-time favorite letters within the book is letter 141. It’s about 2/3 through the story – the Marchioness de Merteuil is peeved at Valmont because he is too enamored with his lover to pay her any attention – said lover is a married noble, a devout Christian he managed to defile—his words not mine.  

The reason she’s peeved is never explained. Jealousy, perhaps, but it’s not borne out of love. Merteuil doesn’t love him, she just wants him wrapped around her little finger.

So, in this letter, as per their twisted game, she tells him that now that he got what he wanted, it is time to break things off with that Christian woman. And, in her infinite generosity, Merteuil provides him with the perfect breakup letter. I was really looking forward to seeing how the translator – Thomas Moore – would handle the nuances, and I wasn’t disappointed for the most part.

It goes as follows:  

One tires of every thing, my angel! It is a law of nature; it is not my fault. 

 If, then, I am tired of a connection that has entirely taken me up four long months, it is not my fault.

If, for example, I had just as much love as you had virtue, and that’s saying a great deal, it is not at all surprising that one should end with the other; it is not my fault

It follows, then, that for some time past, I have deceived you; but your unmerciful affection in some measure forced me to it! It is not my fault.

Now a woman I love to distraction, insists I must sacrifice you: it is not my fault.

I am sensible here is a fine field for reproaches; but if nature has only granted men constancy, whilst it gives obstinacy to women, it is not my fault.

Take my advice, choose another lover, as I have another mistress—The advice is good; if you think otherwise, it is not my fault.

Farewell, my angel! I took you with pleasure, I part you without regret; perhaps I shall return to you; it is the way of the world; it is not my fault

It’s perfect, it’s vicious, it’s exactly what you’d expect to receive from an asshole like Valmont.

Now why am I telling you this? Because there’s a slight change in the movie adaptation, that I think fully grasps the hidden meaning behind “It is not my fault,”  which is the literal translation of the original French version: ce n’est pas ma faute.

The writing team decided to change “It is not my fault” to “It’s beyond my control” and if you’re a purist, you might think they were absolutely stupid and why choose another option when word for word translation works just fine in this case? Why change it when the meaning behind the words is there?  

To answer your question: because it’s not.  

Keep in mind that the book is written in old-French, or an older iteration of French, rather. Words had a slightly different meaning than they do now, e.g. the verb to hear (entendre in French) meant “understand” which is something that the French verb kind of lost while the English retained somewhat (when people say I get you/do you hear me).

So, when the letter says “It is not my fault.” what it really means is, “It’s beyond my control.”  

Earlier, I said that Merteuil wanted to have Valmont wrapped around her little finger? This is what I meant. It’s beyond his control. She demanded of him that breaks up with his lover, she provided the means to do so, and as she writes earlier in the same letter:

“My comparison appears to me the more just as, like [a Sultan], you never are the lover or friend of a woman, but always her tyrant or her slave.”

Boom. Burn.

Valmont is Merteuil’s slave and she spelled it out to him (quite brutally). Which is why, I believe that the translator could have maybe underlined the hidden take behind “It is not my fault.” 

The movie did, because it fully grasped Merteuil’s intention: Valmont is her puppet. He should break up with his lover because Merteuil wants him to and because it is literally beyond his control. Which is what Valmont keeps repeating in the sequence:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cjUmvHBgHr0

(apologies for the potato quality)

It’s nitpicky but it matters in this case because the nuance is lost in the translation, unless the readers pay careful attention. I’m not saying the translation is bad, because it’s not. Literary translation is a balancing act of subjectivity.  

It begs the question: how far can you adapt a translation into your target language before it reaches the point of no return and everything that made the text special/authentic/flavorful is lost? It’s the eternal debate between traductology scholars: are you a target-oriented/source-oriented translator. Most translators will say they’re target-oriented, and they’re right.  

However, the game changes when you’re translating classics, because you’re not just translating a text into a language your audience can understand—you’re translating a chunk of history with it. You can’t dissociate the book and its author from the historical context it was written in because the context gives crucial clues on how to navigate the translation. A book, whatever it may be about, is a testimony of its time.

Does an English-speaking audience in 2020 understand that “It is not my fault” means “I’m somebody’s puppet, your life and mine aren’t ours to do as we please?”

Does “it isn’t my fault” hold as much meaning in 2020 than its French counterpart did in 1782?

If yes, keep it.  

It not, then change it. Adapt it, make it more obvious even if you stray a little from the original version. 

This is what the movie did, in all subtlety, forgoing a literal translation for something else that was in line with the context of the book/history/plot.

I will admit my own bias because this book is among my favorite pieces of classical literature – and Renaissance/pre-French revolution is my favorite period, so I nerd. A lot.    

Next up: Game Localization and how the Japanese translation/VA work of Ghost of Tsushima influenced Jin Sakai’s personality (goody two-shoes in English vs. darker/grounded in JP)

Happy International Translation Day, folks!