#yes I know that he tried to make his stance more ambiguous in his book but it was clear that he was straight up calling Robert a Communist

[opje]

For the love of all that is holy, please stop saying that Robert was a Communist. You are completely misunderstanding who he was as a person if you honestly believe that that was the only political ideology that he subscribed to. He believed in aspects of Communism, and he realized after two of his friends returned from Russia that true Communism could never be achieved. He believed in giving to the people who were going to get shit done, but he himself was a New Deal Democrat (aka a Socialist). I am so heartbroken that people to this day continue to call the man a Communist when he made it clear to Chevalier that he had never been one. This was long after his security clearance was removed that he said this after Chevalier wrote a shit book that was so clearly based off of Robert. No doubt to sell more copies, but thankfully most of the scientific community and historians knew that that was bullshit.

#god why are people so blind I swear people on this website see what they want to #Oppenheimer #Julius Robert Oppenheimer #history #He also was friends with everyone even Republicans #Lawrence was a hardcore Republican and they were fairly close #as was the man who taught him Sanskrit #He understood that while Communism has wonderful aspects to it that it can never and will never work #y’all need to read some primary fucking sources 😭 #the saddest part is that the propaganda against him won #he cared deeply for the causes that communists believed in but not necessarily the entirety of Marxist ideology #so tired of bad takes #history is never black and white #stop projecting your beliefs onto history and get the facts straight #it’s cool if you want to believe in whatever but Robert is not you and you are not him #ranting ignore me I’m just pissed #yes I know that he tried to make his stance more ambiguous in his book but it was clear that he was straight up calling Robert a Communist #even before the Red Scare Robert still hadn’t truly been a member of the party but he did support his students who were members and staff #as a historian I cannot tell you how much it upsets me how people twist the truth

[nalyra-dreaming]

I remember reading the theory (I don't know if it was from you or from Virginia) that Lestat calls out for Louis when he's abducted by Akasha at the end of TVL . It's always been so confusing because the version I read in my mother tongue which is Spanish it was translated as if Lestat was refering to Akasha, they used femenine adjectives (hermosa mía=beautiful one). Although the scene is rather ambiguous, I really hope it is just a matter of bad translation (I believe it could have been done in a much more gender neutral way to stick to the source, even in Spanish) and if the scene ever makes it to the show I hope they keep the Lestat calling Louis interpretation. Also, it'll be interesting to know other translated versions to see if it goes the same way🤔

I think @virginiaisforvampires and I both share the same theory/stance here, so you might have read it on either blog^^

Now, Lestat only calls one being “beautiful one“ - and that is Louis:

In the scene you mentioned, in the end of the book The Vampire Lestat, he calls out mentally, and yes, I do believe to Louis:

Now, see the italics? This is from the hardcover I just got the other day, which is TVL, first edition and print. This is what was meant to be emphasized here. And it makes sense, too, because the page before this is marked as mental communication:

Lestat calls out to Louis there, as she takes him, because they just came from a massacre, from vampires being immolated and destroyed, and cries of danger everywhere. And after a warning of Marius, too.

Lestat has almost been killed last time he encountered Akasha, not by her, no, but the memory of an almost panicked Marius ferrying him away is probably very present then. He has no reason to expect her to be kind to him, even if he might hope so.

And when she comes he cannot move his lips, or body, he is helpless and so he calls out mentally, even though neither Louis nor Gabrielle will be able to hear him directly, but these things are usually not done with intent, but more instinctively. And it is the only thing he can do.

Now… Lestat later reframes what happens with Akasha as love, simply because he tries to deal with being abused again.

And so - taking this into account - within the universe it makes sense that it is kept (a bit) ambiguous. Because within the universe it is Lestat adding the ending to TVL after the events of QotD, right.

But Lestat only ever calls Louis “beautiful one“, and only a few pages prior - and so the meaning is, in a way, hidden within the ending, if that makes sense.

And, last but not least: The Vampire Lestat closes as follows:

Anne must’ve already laid out a lot of what would follow. Which … underlines the deliberation at the end there, for me, in-universe, and outside of it.

I am not sure how other translators have interpreted it, maybe someone else has knowledge here? But this is the first print 😅, sooo ….

#anonymous #asks #ask nalyra #beautiful one #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #akasha #the vampire lestat #queen of the damned #the vampire chronicles #book quotes #interview with the vampire

[whitehotharlots]

The point is control

Whenever we think or talk about censorship, we usually conceptualize it as certain types of speech being somehow disallowed: maybe (rarely) it's made formally illegal by the government, maybe it's banned in certain venues, maybe the FCC will fine you if you broadcast it, maybe your boss will fire you if she learns of it, maybe your friends will stop talking to you if they see what you've written, etc. etc. 

This understanding engenders a lot of mostly worthless discussion precisely because it's so broad. Pedants--usually arguing in favor of banning a certain work or idea--will often argue that speech protections only apply to direct, government bans. These bans, when they exist, are fairly narrow and apply only to those rare speech acts in which other people are put in danger by speech (yelling the N-word in a crowded theater, for example). This pedantry isn't correct even within its own terms, however, because plenty of people get in trouble for making threats. The FBI has an entire entrapment program dedicated to getting mentally ill muslims and rednecks to post stuff like "Death 2 the Super bowl!!" on twitter, arresting them, and the doing a press conference about how they heroically saved the world from terrorism. 

Another, more recent pedant's trend is claiming that, actually, you do have freedom of speech; you just don't have freedom from the consequences of speech. This logic is eerily dictatorial and ignores the entire purpose of speech protections. Like, even in the history's most repressive regimes, people still technically had freedom of speech but not from consequences. Those leftist kids who the nazis beheaded for speaking out against the war were, by this logic, merely being held accountable. 

The two conceptualizations of censorship I described above are, 99% of the time, deployed by people who are arguing in favor of a certain act of censorship but trying to exempt themselves from the moral implications of doing so. Censorship is rad when they get to do it, but they realize such a solipsism seems kinda icky so they need to explain how, actually, they're not censoring anybody, what they're doing is an act of righteous silencing that's a totally different matter. Maybe they associate censorship with groups they don't like, such as nazis or religious zealots. Maybe they have a vague dedication toward Enlightenment principles and don't want to be regarded as incurious dullards. Most typically, they're just afraid of the axe slicing both ways, and they want to make sure that the precedent they're establishing for others will not be applied to themselves.

Anyone who engages with this honestly for more than a few minutes will realize that censorship is much more complicated, especially in regards to its informal and social dimensions. We can all agree that society simply would not function if everyone said whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. You might think your boss is a moron or your wife's dress doesn't look flattering, but you realize that such tidbits are probably best kept to yourself. 

Again, this is a two-way proposition that everyone is seeking to balance. Do you really want people to verbalize every time they dislike or disagree with you? I sure as hell don't. And so, as part of a social compact, we learn to self-censor. Sometimes this is to the detriment of ourselves and our communities. Most often, however, it's just a price we have to pay in order to keep things from collapsing. 

But as systems, large and small, grow increasingly more insane and untenable, so do the comportment standards of speech. The disconnect between America's reality and the image Americans have of themselves has never been more plainly obvious, and so striving for situational equanimity is no longer good enough. We can't just pretend cops aren't racist and the economy isn't run by venal retards or that the government places any value on the life of its citizens. There's too much evidence that contradicts all that, and the evidence is too omnipresent. There's too many damn internet videos, and only so many of them can be cast as Russian disinformation. So, sadly, we must abandon our old ways of communicating and embrace instead systems that are even more unstable, repressive, and insane than the ones that were previously in place.

Until very, very recently, nuance and big-picture, balanced thinking were considered signs of seriousness, if not intelligence. Such considerations were always exploited by shitheads to obfuscate things that otherwise would have seemed much less ambiguous, yes, but this fact alone does not mitigate the potential value of such an approach to understanding the world--especially since the stuff that's been offered up to replace it is, by every worthwhile metric, even worse.

So let's not pretend I'm Malcolm Gladwell or some similarly slimy asshole seeking to "both sides" a clearcut moral issue. Let's pretend I am me. Flash back to about a year ago, when there was real, widespread, and sustained support for police reform. Remember that? Seems like forever ago, man, but it was just last year... anyhow, now, remember what happened? Direct, issues-focused attempts to reform policing were knocked down. Blotted out. Instead, we were told two things: 1) we had to repeat the slogan ABOLISH THE POLICE, and 2) we had to say it was actually very good and beautiful and nonviolent and valid when rioters burned down poor neighborhoods.

Now, in a relatively healthy discourse, it might have been possible for someone to say something like "while I agree that American policing is heavily violent and racist and requires substantial reforms, I worry that taking such an absolutist point of demanding abolition and cheering on the destruction of city blocks will be a political non-starter." This statement would have been, in retrospect, 100000000% correct. But could you have said it, in any worthwhile manner? If you had said something along those lines, what would the fallout had been? Would you have lost friends? Your job? Would you have suffered something more minor, like getting yelled at, told your opinion did not matter? Would your acquaintances still now--a year later, after their political project has failed beyond all dispute--would they still defame you in "whisper networks," never quite articulating your verbal sins but nonetheless informing others that you are a dangerous and bad person because one time you tried to tell them how utterly fucking self-destructive they were being? It is undeniably clear that last year's most-elevated voices were demanding not reform but catharsis. I hope they really had fun watching those immigrant-owned bodegas burn down, because that’s it, that will forever be remembered as the most palpable and consequential aspect of their shitty, selfish movement. We ain't reforming shit. Instead, we gave everyone who's already in power a blank check to fortify that power to a degree you and I cannot fully fathom.

But, oh, these people knew what they were doing. They were good little boys and girls. They have been rewarded with near-total control of the national discourse, and they are all either too guilt-ridden or too stupid to realize how badly they played into the hands of the structures they were supposedly trying to upend.

And so left-liberalism is now controlled by people whose worldview is equal parts superficial and incoherent. This was the only possible outcome that would have let the system continue to sustain itself in light of such immense evidence of its unsustainability without resulting in reform, so that's what has happened.

But... okay, let's take a step back. Let's focus on what I wanted to talk about when I started this.

I came across a post today from a young man who claimed that his high school English department head had been removed from his position and had his tenure revoked for refusing to remove three books from classrooms. This was, of course, fallout from the ongoing debate about Critical Race Theory. Two of those books were Marjane Satropi's Persepolis and, oh boy, The Diary of Anne Frank. Fuck. Jesus christ, fuck.

Now, here's the thing... When Persepolis was named, I assumed the bannors were anti-CRT. The graphic novel does not deal with racism all that much, at least not as its discussed contemporarily, but it centers an Iranian girl protagonist and maybe that upset Republican types. But Anne Frank? I'm sorry, but the most likely censors there are liberal identiarians who believe that teaching her diary amounts to centering the suffering of a white woman instead of talking about the One Real Racism, which must always be understood in an American context. The super woke cult group Black Hammer made waves recently with their #FuckAnneFrank campaign... you'd be hard pressed to find anyone associated with the GOP taking a firm stance against the diary since, oh, about 1975 or so.

So which side was it? That doesn't matter. What matters is, I cannot find out.

Now, pro-CRT people always accuse anti-CRT people of not knowing what CRT is, and then after making such accusations they always define CRT in a way that absolutely is not what CRT is. Pro-CRTers default to "they don't want  students to read about slavery or racism." This is absolutely not true, and absolutely not what actual CRT concerns itself with. Slavery and racism have been mainstays of American history curriucla since before I was born. Even people who barely paid attention in school would admit this, if there were any more desire for honesty in our discourse. 

My high school history teacher was a southern "lost causer" who took the south's side in the Civil War but nonetheless provided us with the most descriptive and unapologetic understandings of slavery's brutalities I had heard up until that point. He also unambiguously referred to the nuclear attacks on Hiroshmia and Nagasaki as "genocidal." Why? Because most people's politics are idiosyncratic, and because you cannot genuinely infer a person to believe one thing based on their opinion of another, tangentially related thing. The totality of human understanding used to be something open-minded people prided themselves on being aware of, believe it or not...

This is the problem with CRT. This is is the motivation behind the majority of people who wish to ban it. It’s not because they are necessarily racist themselves. It’s because they recognize, correctly, that the now-ascendant frames for understanding social issues boils everything down to a superficial patina that denies not only the realities of the systems they seek to upend but the very humanity of the people who exist within them. There is no humanity without depth and nuance and complexities and contradictions. When you argue otherwise, people will get mad and fight back. 

And this is the most bitter irony of this idiotic debate: it was never about not wanting to teach the sinful or embarrassing parts of our history. That was a different debate, one that was settled and won long ago. It is instead an immense, embarrassing overreach on behalf of people who have bullied their way to complete dominance of their spheres of influence within media and academe assuming they could do the same to everyone else. Some of its purveyors may have convinced themselves that getting students to admit complicity in privilege will prevent police shootings, sure. But I know these people. I’ve spoken to them at length. I’ve read their work. The vast, vast majority of them aren’t that stupid. The point is to exert control. The point is to make sure they stay in charge and that nothing changes. The point is failure. 

[maevelin]

what is your opinion on how the IC treated nesta in general, but more specifically acofas?

Oh boy...you just had to go there lol

Negative rant ahead. So you’ve been warned.

Truth is I’ve tried so hard to get what happened in acofas out of my mind  and view certain things I used to like even out of context so to be able to still enjoy them but it didn’t work. If anything getting some emotional distance from this universe dampened my excitement for any future project from this franchise and writer. Granted I never considered SJM to be a good writer but at least she was able to work through some interesting characters and dynamics. Acofas negated that too.

And honestly I am so done with the whole thing and it even left me with a bitter aftertaste when it comes to Nessian in particular because the foundations set in that book (if one can call it that) are really something I detest. The insight we got into Cassian’s mind made me so angry and I noped out completely.

As for how the IC in general treated Nesta?

I had some time to think about that and I think the problem is that the previous books and ACOFAS more so have set up an environment where Feyre and the Inner Circle are the moral axis of the universe we are in. If they are objectively right or wrong does not matter because they are right no matter what. It is very unsettling for me to have to get into a book that exists on that foundation. 

At the beginning the characters in question, Feyre, Rhysand and so on were treading more realistic lines between right and wrong. Some of those lines were blurred. They were morally grey characters too given what the situation demanded from them and that was the allure of their dynamic as characters and as relationships but as we got more books with them they became more and more bland and their perspective was limited to the trope of the perfect shiny hero and they became dogmatic when it came to that. They knew what was the best for everyone. They could do no wrong even when they did. There were no repercussions to their mistakes. They are not to be called out for their behavior because their behavior is always correct (even when it is not and not just concerning Nesta but on many fronts).

We are at a point where their moral code is by default what creates what is right and wrong and the narrative acknowledges that directly and indirectly. So the readers are meant to accept that what Feyre does is morally right and doesn’t get to criticize her actions and the actions of the Inner Circle that many times can be morally ambiguous -at best- but are not acknowledged as such.

I would appreciate it much more if the author allowed the characters (all characters, Nesta included because I am not here to pretend that Nesta is not a hot mess of an abusive asshole too) to be subjected more to objective criticism without the narrative pandering to their moral high ground. 

Thing is that situations where you have to face someone’s trauma can be difficult, messy, ugly even. There is no perfect recipe. It doesn’t mean that your way or helping is always right just because you love your family or your loved one. It doesn’t mean that because you have had your own trauma you know how to deal with someone else’s. You can do more damage many times or you can’t reach someone that is struggling and when someone is in pain many times can’t open up or accept their problem or any help regarding their issues and this can create a very dysfunctional situation from all sides concerned. Toxic even. 

But here from the start the reader is to accept a fundamental truth. Feyre and the Inner Circle are right and they know what they are doing. Their motives, their actions, their responses are pristine and they are on a pedestal so where does that leave Nesta or even a reader that doesn’t accept that reality because their critical thinking gets in the way? 

And where does a character that is not as ‘perfect’ stand? Nowhere. It distorts the picture. Because until that character gets in line with that perfection they can’t be part of it. It gets ostracized even if is in simple things as not being drawn inside a painting.

And what I find even more problematic (especially in the end of ACOFAS) is that this feels very much like a parallel of how Tamlin treated Feyre but most readers ignore that because the former books established that Feyre and the IC are the established moral stance one should admire and anyone opposing that is on the wrong. In reality the moment the writer stopped viewing certain characters under an amoral light and forced them to be the ‘good heroes’ instead of the amoral characters that should have been everything became distorted. The parallels between those characters that are deemed to be doing things wrong and those that are supposedly doing things right are blatantly obvious and the only reason as to why the good guys have the holier than thou attitude and are on the right its because the writer “says so” and that’s not something I can abide with if I use critical thinking. 

Yes these books are not meant to be taken seriously and are light entertainment at best but I feel there are limits to that especially since given the direction the author choose to take the characters towards does not personally entertain me anymore.

I am not in favor of taking an unapologetic character and making them less than what they are only to fit them into a romance and way to work into a faux morality code.

Feyre wants to protect Nesta. She is for an intervention. Tamlin acted the same. In the same way Feyre gets to decide how Elain should give Lucien a chance or how Lucien’s attachment with Jurian and Vassa is silly or how Nesta should heal Tamlin also decided how Feyre should work through her trauma, how she should not use her powers, how she should exist in his court because...he knew better, because he loved her, because he wanted to protect her. And he did love her and he did want to protect her and he had his reasons and all that didn’t make him any less abusive. Tamlin was basically ordering or manipulating Feyre into acting in the way he believed was best for her and their life together. Does that sound familiar or what? Including how Tamlin was providing everything financially for Feyre and her sisters too and that was also taken as a given. 

And I am not here to say that Feyre doesn’t love her sisters or doesn’t want the best for them. I am here to point out the hypocrisy when it comes to how one should defend another person’s free will and choice. The only reason Feyre was able to escape that suffocating environment was because Rhysand gave her a way out. No one is there to do that for Nesta. If anyone did that for her would she stay? Of course not.  Would she follow Cassian to the camp if she had other alternatives? Nope. Surely Nesta is at the lowest of lows and her behavior triggered such reactions because she surely did something bad for even Amren to be set against her that way in the end of ACOFAS but that doesn’t change how the power imbalance is shocking. How Elain had no say to what happens to Nesta because Feyre is in charge. But once more where Tamlin was wrong Feyre is right. Where Tamlin was abusive Feyre is not. Feyre’s trauma was not as destructive as Nesta’s so of course this excuses everything. Not to mention that Tamlin was going through his own trauma too. Not to mention that every despicable thing Tamlin did as a High Lord was no less despicable than what Rhysand did but we saw how the narrative in the end treated Tamlin even after the way he repented in ACOWAR. 

But Tamlin is the bad guy who treated Feyre badly so even if objectively he can be as terrible as the characters we are meant to support are and can be we are still not meant to judge him the same as we are meant to judge the ‘heroes’ because different standards are set. The same treatment goes for Nesta, Lucien and so on. And I am not here to defend Tamlin or every wrong thing Nesta or any other character did. But the scales here are not balanced at all so I feel that for certain characters their mistakes weigh more than those of others. It also depends if someone’s trauma is more ‘comfortably accepted’ than others. It is like you can be depressed and damaged and traumatized but only as long as it fits a certain aesthetic kind of thing and that is triggering me in ways I am not comfortable with.

And you can see the insidious writing too. Nesta’s PTSD is used against her. 

Characters like Feyre are getting praised for overcoming their trauma and for their heroism and get all those monikers of glory but Nesta for example and even Elain that beheaded the King and ended the war are left into obscurity. Nesta was ready to sacrifice herself to give Feyre a fighting chance and was there to shield Cassian and die along his side but you know okay sure. Feyre is the defender of the rainbow and I don’t know what else title she has these days but when other characters do similar fits of heroism they are sidelined and those acts are quickly forgotten as if they never happened. That is a narrative issue because it chooses to highlight certain moments and ignore others.

People know Nesta as ‘Cassian’s’ for crying out loud and escape her house in fear because of him. Cassian that somehow glorifies the mate bond and the age gap even to legitimate worries Rhysand poses because if he didn’t then all of the sudden he would have to acknowledge how problematic is his attitude towards Nesta and their general dynamic. But hey she looks hot despite her weight loss and what Rhysand and Feyre have, suicide pacts and whatnot, is so pure so why bother with being decent towards a girl that as he sees is traumatized, has been violated and is stuck in a world and species she does not want. He admitted that he had been through the same emotional trauma in his past and it took him time to heal but hey Nesta is a bitch for not conforming to the way he and the IC believe is best for her to act, behave and heal.

Is Nesta right all the time? Hell no. She is an abusive asshole. She spends money she has not worked for and earned. She is all messed up and does not know which way is up and lashes out towards every direction.

But in the same way Feyre did the same with Tamlin’s fortune and Rhysand’s but at least she was grateful and in a relationship with them so I guess it was okay?

And keep in mind that what Nesta is doing is deplorable (taking Rhysand’s money, having a past of not treating Feyre right, not wanting to be with Cassian etc) but when Elain is basically doing the same but Elain is ...Elain. So it is okay. She is not as troublesome I guess and can hide silently in the sidelines so the same mistakes have different gravity and consequences.  Again that’s how the narrative is set. It favors certain characters while condemns others because by default it accepts in its core how Feyre and the Inner Circle is the moral axis so the other characters are satellites around that orbit and if they diverge from that then they get crashed until they are taught to gravitate correctly.

I could keep going but I feel like this game is rigged from the start when it comes to Nesta and I am finding it pointless really. The fact that the narrative pushes her trauma in a certain direction so not only to develop Nesta as a character but also pander to certain characters and a certain mentality regarding certain characters. I don’t feel comfortable reading something like that.

If the concern of the author was to push Nesta into an environment where the primary concern would be Cassian, their romance and the acknowledgment of the Inner Circle I am sure there are many more ways to work with that than taking a character’s PTSD and manipulating in a way as to make it less important for their individual narrative and more or less a stepping stool for getting the character to a place that wouldn’t otherwise go and especially more so if they were in their right frame of mind. 

And I am not going to even get to other issues like how I am sure how tone deaf the author is still going to be when it comes to PoC cultures (Illyrians) vs White Savior Trope (Nesta entering that culture as a Queen without a crown that will go through the blood rite and into a warring misogynistic tribe where she will give the solution in the end but you know...’yay feminism’...and then adding salt into injury you will have Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian that have been in charge for half a millennia and could have solved certain issues if they truly wanted given their position and power but now that someone else will do it for them they will still get the credit...but you know...dreamers change the world and all that...but only when it is convenient I guess...).

#nesta archeron #nesta #cassian for ts #nessian for ts #anti acofas #fel reads acofas #I am so.... #no no nope #I am getting more into anti shipping territory here #and I used to ship Nessian like crazy #Anonymous #anti rhysand #anti feyre

[mysanderssidessideblog]

A Good Day

Warnings for Sides fading out, major character death, unsympathetic Patton, angst, gaslighting, not a happy ending.  

Written for #UnsympAndAngstSidesBingo

Link to AO3

“I'm very disappointed in you kiddo.”

Janus looked up from his book, frowning.

True, he knew his occasional appearance in the Lightside was not exactly welcome, but he had been slowly trying to help the others acclimatise to his presence by sitting quietly with a book from time to time.

He'd even carefully set out a tea set and biscuits this time, rather than his usual tea for one, making a subtle gesture that he was open to company. So far, none had taken him up on the offer.

Yet, he could not fathom source of Patton's discontent. He was <i>trying</i>, and short of dragging Virgil out by his ear to reluctantly sit with him, he was not sure what more he could do.

“Patton. Will you not join me?”  Janus had learnt that the use of the word 'not' had evolved to ambiguous meaning; 'I could care less' tended to be treated the same as 'I could not care less', even if the wording was inaccurate. As a result, he leaned heavily into the word to help mask his lies.

“No.”

Morality's face, usually lit up with a bright smile, was stern.

Janus pursed his lips, and feigned indifference. “As you like.”

“You had one job, and you have failed.”

That took him aback, Patton not usually so confrontational. lowering his book, Janus schooled his expression into neutrality, opting for addressing the accusation in a calm and civil manner. He inclined his head so that he appeared interested in what Patton had to say, while opening his stance to appear receiving to discussion.

“I am not sure I follow. Please, help me understand.”

“You were to keep the undesirable elements of Thomas hidden, secret. <i>You</i> were supposed to stay away, out of sight, out of mind.”

“Ah.”  Janus straightened, and clutched at his book, trying to hide the hurt from his voice. He had thought he and Patton had reached something of a truce, that Patton had seen that he had some merit in being known, in being active participant in the mindscape.

“I believe we agreed that repression was not of benefit. That I could keep things hidden, but it would be best for Thomas to be more self-aware, to learn that he had sides to him that were not always...”  Janus struggled for an appropriate word, “...good.” he finished lamely.

It was hard to argue with Morality; he held great power and influence, and his view of the world was parsed down into good and evil. Janus sought to teach him of the deeper complexities, but Patton was reluctant to even consider than lying could have small benefit in theory, so the idea of applying small untruths to day to day happenings was unthinkable to him.

“It is not working. Thomas is more stressed than ever with so many conflicting opinions, and then there is Remus! He is disgusting, and vile, and Thomas does not need him and his corrupting presence!”

 “And don't think I have not noticed Logan's more regular angry outbursts. The influence of the dark sides has gotten out of hand, and must be corrected.”

Janus was glad of his gloves that hid how white his knuckles had turned with how tightly he held the book.  He swallowed nervously.

“Patton, I understand that this is a time of change, and that change can be daunting, even uncomfortable. However, change is important for growth, for improved insight. This will help Thomas become a better person, eventually.”

“Thomas was already perfect before the dark sides came along! Things were better before!”

Patton's face then broke into a smile.

Janus did not like that smile, not in the slightest.

“Maybe that is answer.....”

He was about to get to his feet, about to retreat, when Patton walked towards him.

“You could not keep the dark contained.” he said, as the air around them grew dense. Janus felt uneasy, as Patton's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “So I guess it's a father's duty to step in when a Kiddo has failed....”

Janus did try to get up then, but found himself held down by Patton by a hand upon his shoulder, surprisingly strong.

“You'll help me, won't you Kiddo? Help me fix up your little mistake...?”

“I don't understand Patton, what are you talking about?”

“You, and Remus, all the dark sides, are a bad influence on Thomas.”  Patton then stretched his lips  wider, his face a rictus parody of a smile, “It's high time someone did something about that....”

Janus shook his head. “Patton, you cannot just deny that Thomas has dark sides to him, same as everyone! We are just as much a part of him as you are!” he lifted his hand, tried to push Patton from him. He could not make Patton's hand budge at all.

“Thomas needs us. Needs all of us!”

Patton's grip shifted, instead of holding Janus down, curling his fingers past the fabric and into the flesh underneath, so tight Janus felt like Patton was reaching to leave fingerprints upon his bones.

“No. Thomas needs to be good.” Patton gave a short nod to himself. “Thomas will be good.”

Janus cried out, in pain, in fear.

“Let me go!”

“I can't do that Kiddo. See, if I'm gonna make everything right again, I'll need to borrow just a tiny bit of your power.”

“You can hide things, and I have high influence over nostalgia and memories. I think that if we really put our minds to it and work together, we can hide the memories of the dark sides so deep that they will never be thought of again!”

“Patton, Thomas needs all aspects of him. He needs to understand that others have the capacity to lie so he is not taken advantage of. He needs the ability to get angry when things are not right so he can sort it out.” “He even needs Remus, the core of his jokes that are a little crude, a little naughty....” “You cannot just.... delete those vital pieces of him; that way lies madness!”

“You are one to talk about lies mister!”

“OK, OK, I have lied, and will likely do so again, but you have been told that repression doesn't work... that didn't come from me, but Logan. And you trust Logan, right?”

Patton tipped his head, thoughtful.

“Hmm. Good point.”

Janus sagged slightly, relieved he had managed to get through to Morality.

“I guess we'll just have to remove the the dark sides entirely!” he said brightly.

Janus froze, unbelieving. If it had been anyone other than Patton, he'd have accused them of a off-tone joke..... but Patton wasn't lying.

“I will help you!” he snarled, shaking his head, the lie unsubtle and obvious.

Tutting, Patton looked down.

“If you are not part of the solution, then it seems to me you are part of the problem...”

Patton's hand clawed, and Janus felt something creak within his shoulder.

He felt Patton tug at his influence, and thrashed and fought to keep what he was whole. He hissed and bore his teeth as if he might bite.

The hand across his throat stilled him, surprised, shocked that Patton would do such a thing.

“Stop fighting me, I know what's best for Thomas.”

“I will not help you destroy the dark sides!”

Patton's grip, both on shoulder and throat tightened in irritation. Janus struggle to fight back, to even draw breath, but Morality held much more sway than he did, and he could not break free.

He struggled, cursing himself for dismissing Patton as native and weak. Janus knew he was merely stalling for time, that Patton would eventually win. There was a small hope that one of the others might happen upon them and intervene, but he was not well liked, and he did not trust that another side would not work with Patton against him.

Patton looked down over his glasses, considering, and Janus desperately tried to stop Patton from draining his power, his essence.

Patton's grip round his throat relaxed, and Janus drew desperate and painful breath.

It took him a moment to realise that Patton was stroking against the side of his neck, affectionately. “You have an affinity for self-preservation, yes? Give me your power, willingly, and I shall let you survive.”

His mismatched eyes widened as Janus took in how very serious and set on this course of action Patton was.

Terror gripped him as the fingers round his neck tightened again, and he feared for his life.

A better side would have stood up for what was right.

A stronger side would have fought harder.

A clever side would have found the words to make Patton reconsider.

But Janus was a selfish side.

Weakly, he nodded.

Janus tried to cry out as Patton syphoned his strength and his power, but he could only hiss which what remained of his breath. His gloves and cape leached their colour, turning dull and grey as Patton stole from him.

He did not hold out much hope that Patton would ever return what he had taken.

When it was done, Patton released Janus, standing tall and confident, radiating energy.

“You made the right choice. Well done kiddo.”

Janus, sagged in the chair, tired. He managed to bring his head up to look at Patton.  

“Patton, wait...” he managed to say, each word needing so much effort to utter than before, lie or not, “Please take a moment to think.. to reflect... You would be interfering beyond your realm of expertise. Do not do this!”

“Oh my silly little snake!” Patton leaned down to plant a fond kiss upon Janus's forehead.  “It's already done!”

“What? No!” Janus clutched at the chair, as if it might hold him steady against this new revelation.

“All those nasty bits that Thomas doesn't need are already disappearing from thought. If you wanted to say your goodbyes, I would hurry. They are fading fast.”

One thought came to mind.

“Remusssss!”  he hissed, and with a lurch, Janus swung himself downwards, sinking through the floor.

He landed in a landscape in disarray, the features of the darkside twisting and fragmenting, everything coming apart.

Remus was there, trying to shore up a crack in the wall with what looked like a mix of blood and cement.

“Snake-butt! Something's happening. Something's wrong!” he hollered over the low groan of the mindscape rejecting the dark.

Janus looked about in despair, only to see Remus staring at him, the crack beyond repair and stretching out. Horrifically, Janus could see the crack behind Remus, as the darker creativity grew translucent and hazy.

  “My head feels fuzzy like mould on a birthday cake, and what's up with you? You've gone all grey.”

“It's Patton, he is not unmaking the dark side!”  even in desperate times, Janus could not speak truthfully.

“What does that even mean?!”

Remus's voice was strange, softer as if he was shouting from a distance, but that did not hide the fact that he was scared. Janus could not ever recall Remus sounding scared.

Janus looked to him, halfway transparent and afraid, and the surrounding walls crumbling apart.

 He forced a smile.

“Everything will be all right.” he lied, as he reached over and wrapped his arms round Remus, so the other would not see the tears in his eyes.

The sounds of unmaking crescendoed about them, and then, grew quiet.

Remus, and the darkside, and all that it contained faded to black... no, not black.....

Nothingness.

*********

Janus had had to claw his way back from the nothingness, drawing on what little power he had left.

He shouldn't have made it, should have faded out with the rest, but Morality's promise of his own unworthy survival held true.

The effort of returning to the lightside caused him to stumble, and he landed gracelessly in the common area.

Logan, writing down something in a note book, looked up. He gave curt nod.

“Janus.” he acknowledged, and then returned to his writing.

“Logan!” Janus hissed out, struggling to his feet.

Logan looked again, and adjusted his glasses at the sight of Janus bereft of his usual colouration.

“You have a new outfit. It is... monochromatic.”

“Do not summon the others. It's not important!”

Logan frowned, “If it is of such little import, then why can you not do it?”

Hands clenched weakly at his sides, Janus swayed where he stood.

“I can!” he lied, and then cursed himself for not speaking clearly as Logan stood back expectantly.

It did not take long for Logan to realise that Janus was making no move to call the others to them.

“Oh. You are lying.” Logan's lips tightened, “Very well.”

Roman rose with a flourish, and Virgil popped up sitting on the stairs.

“Patton has not done something terrible!” Janus started, then caught himself. He took a breath.

“Patton has done something terrible. He has destroyed the darkside, and all those still connected to it.”

Virgil frowned in thought, “I thought I felt something weird... ”

“Or it could have just been your usual constant worry of something about to go wrong.” Logan reminded, to which Virgil gave reluctant nod.

“Even if that were true, which I very much doubt it is coming from you, then why are you still here?” Roman asked, sceptical.

“I....” Janus swallowed his pride and spoke aloud his grievous mistake. “I made a deal with him to survive.”

“but he took my power, and used it to unmake the darkside!”

“Patton wouldn't do something like that.” Roman said confidently.

“Patton wouldn't do something like what?”

Janus pulled back as Patton approached, smiling cheerfully.

“Janus thinks you have done something bad.” Logan explained.

“Are you sure you didn't mishear him that I've done something 'Dad'?”

Janus snarled.

“You destroyed them, all the dark sides! Pieces of Thomas, ripped apart and gone!”

Patton laughed, “As if I would do anything to hurt dear Thomas!

Roman and Logan nodded with Patton, that of the two, Patton was far more trust-worthy than Deceit.

“Anyway, Thomas doesn't have dark sides, save for you....” Janus did not like the way Patton looked at him, as if he was nothing but another problem that needed 'fixing'. He shuddered.

Patton continued, “But don't worry, we'll all help you find your place and learn to be good! Just like Virgil!”

Virgil gave an uncomfortable shrug at being pointed out.

Janus turned to Roman, desperate, “Roman, your twin! He is... he is gone Roman!! Patton killed him!”

“My brother?” Roman frowned, and reached to the back of his head to rub against a fragment of a memory.

He looked to Patton for guidance, deeply confused.

“Don't be silly, you don't have a brother.”

Roman's hand dropped, and he shrugged at Janus. “I don't even have a brother. Don't speak such lies Snake!”

“You did! His name is... is... was.....”

Janus's eyes widened in horror, as he could not bring the name to mind.... nor the face....

 Patton had not just destroyed the dark sides, but he had erased even the memories of them. How could Janus convince them of Patton's misdeed, when he had cleared every scrap of evidence from the mindscape?

How long before Janus himself forgot what Patton had done?

He lunged then at Patton, furious. He was stopped by Logan's arm easily blocking him and pushing him to the side.

Patton folded his arms, face full of fake concern.

“I was merciful before, but I think you need a time out Janus. Go to your room. In fact, I think it would be for the best if you were to stay there for the time being, and stop telling such terrible lies.”

“Roman, be a dear and take Janus to his room for me.”

“Sure thing Pat!”

As Janus let himself be led away, disbelieved and defeated, and destined to forget what he was and be moulded into whatever Patton deemed acceptable form of Deceit, Janus heard Patton address the other sides.

“Oh Kiddos, I'm just so happy! I have a feeling today is going to be a <i>good</i> day!”

#unsympandangstsidesbingo #unsympathetic sides #unsympathetic patton #angst #unhappy ending #major character death

[raisansgrapeon]

My Views on Some of the Cast of the DSMP

We got a lot of things flying left, right, and center right now about characters in the dream smp fandom and I love it. I love seeing the perspectives and the stances and everyone's opinions as long as we're all being civil about it. So, I'm civilly putting in my two cents about... Well... Everything. But mainly just Ghostbur, Phil, and Techno since this post would get obscenely long if I did everyone.

I'd like to just say one thing about my approach to this story:

The characters are morally ambiguous. No one is the good guy. No one is the bad guy. No one is an exception.

Yes, even Dream falls under this.

These are all people, and I always hesitate to call people bad or good in real life because there is so much more beyond what I can see of them, and I think it's a testament to the wonderful acting, improv, writing, and character establishment/writing that it can get me to see fictional block men who do things like claim their mother is a salmon and fill their palaces with flamingos as people.

With that information, I say that I love every character for who they are in the context of the narrative and how they play their role in said narrative.

And I love how each and every one of them are in the wrong somehow in some way.

Ghostbur is suffering the loss of everything he built, technically, a fourth time over.

First with Dream's initial explosion of L'Manburg, second with the actual explosion of L'Manburg, third with the explosion of Logstedshire, and finally with the final explosion of L'Manburg. He's hurting and yes, we all feel immensely bad for this little amnesiac ghost boy who only ever wrote books and built what he loved.

But he acknowledges that he's also hurt people. He knows that. That's why he wants to be resurrected. Even if he forgets conversations, impressions and residual feelings and ideas still hold over, since he clearly didn't just forget about his desire to be resurrected after he forgot his spat with Phil. He recontextualizes his desires and feelings under new sources but the idea of, this is the only way I can make everyone feel better, still lingers. Fundy told him that he needed to stop running away from his problems and face them. He may have forgotten that conversation, but the idea that who he is and what Ghostbur, as an entity, represents is hurting everyone, lingers.

Ghostbur has hurt people. Not of malicious intent, but intent does not dictate the feelings and actions of those around you in response to your own actions. Ghostbur uses his blue to forget his sorrows, and that action cuts those around him off from the emotional reconciliation Ghostbur knows they need from him.

Even then, who he is is not primed to deal with the fallout that would come if he even had voluntary control over his amnesia. Ghostbur insists he's not Alivebur, but he kinda is in a way. Both are very rigid in their beliefs when their mind is made up. There is no negotiation afterwards. Ghostbur's fundamental ideals have been locked in from the start of his existence. He makes others happy, and he restores L'Manburg. The idea that he no longer has the capability to do either of these things as he is now lingers without context. A ghost of a conversation forgotten that got held onto as the only good thing to come out of it.

Ghostbur is not 100% good. He's airheaded and well meaning, but he's never addressed the core issues that he caused.

Phil is trying to prevent what happened to his son from ever happening again.

Phil is a bigger picture man. He sees the world around him as a collective that works together to maintain itself. He doesn't have many personal ties beyond Techno and Wilbur in canon. He truly acts like a third-party hanging above the fray watching as the tides of war ebb and flow. He sees the corruption and sickness that lies within L'Manburg that killed his son thrive long after the mad king had been struck down. He held hope that in the wake of tragedy, Tubbo and the citizens would turn the tides, but they proved him wrong. What killed his son tried to kill his friend, and Phil was going to stop it.

But Phil was too zoomed out to see the personal aspect that L'Manburg held. He was too focused of the bigger picture to remember that Friend was in his house. He couldn't see L'Manburg as the home of many. He was still too detached from the feelings of the people to understand why Ghostbur was upset in the first place. The conversation between the two was not about Phil trying to get Ghostbur to understand why L'Manburg needed to go, it was Ghostbur trying to get Phil to understand why this was not the right option.

Philza has hurt people. He hurt his son by not only aiding in the destruction of his son's home and Friend, but also refusing to see the individuals in the conflict. He hurt Fundy by rejecting him the moment he realized that his grandson was following the tide of battle in the wrong direction. In the end, Phil never chose to see the situation from any other perspective other than his own.

He's disjointed and disconnected from the world around him. He truly loves and cares for two, at one point three, people on the server canonically and beyond that is an ambiguous blur. This isn't really his battle, in all honesty. He came when he saw that Wil was gonna do something everyone would regret, and he tried to step in and stop it, but beyond that, he was never there for anything. He never cared about L'Manburg and he never cared about its people. He's kind and caring to those in passing and he has a sense of nobility and honor where he respects and helps those who helped him. Still, he sees the world around him as a collective, and rarely anything more.

Philza is not 100% good, but he's not 100% bad. He's principled and intelligent, but he has no concept of how his actions affect the individual beyond the collective.

Techno has been abandoned and played like a fiddle this whole time.

Technoblade is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the most straightforward character in the smp in terms of motivation. He is explicit and blatant about his anarchy and goals. Yet, somehow, everyone keeps falling into the thought that Techno is a naturally passive force that can be activated into action. In actuality, Techno is very proactive. He prepares and plans beyond wartime. He acts swiftly and precisely. He follows Sun Tzu's tenants faithfully. He does not idle and sticks to his most recent plan to a T if he thinks he can win.

But Techno doesn't see outside himself. He knows what works for him but is blind to others' needs and desires. Anarchy is how Techno can live comfortably, but not everyone can and certainly not everyone in the server. He plays by his rules and rational and imposes those thoughts onto others, not understanding when they act contrary to his understanding and thus rules them to being irrational on purpose. That they just want to ruin his life.

Techno has hurt people and we all know this. Everyone here believes that Techno betrayed them not when he wouldn't join their government, but when he wouldn't leave well enough alone. He did that too late. If he had conceded at the end of the Manburg-Pogtopia war that he did what he was called to do and just left for retirement in the first place, he could've lived just fine. But he's proactive, and he felt betrayed by them when they instantly instilled not only a new leader, but one under the same format and structure that had already failed twice. But who ever said that was his problem?

Techno, as well as everyone but especially Techno, sees himself as the one in the right all the time. He doesn't regret a single thing he's done, at least not anywhere I've seen. He is sure in his beliefs, lifestyle, principles, and logic. He enforces these on other's and sees them as ignorant and dumb for thinking different to him. It takes a lot for him to let bygones be bygones, and it's easy to provoke him into action. Albeit, none of this is helped by the literal chorus of voices constantly memeing in his head, but my point still stands.

Technoblade is not 100% bad, nor is he 100% good. He's motivated and honest, but he doesn't think about other's preferences having the possibility of having a logic behind them.

I could go on and on with nearly every main player in this story but this is what I have off the top of my head.

Basically: no one is good. No one is bad. They all make mistakes as a result of their flaws and those mistakes negatively affect real people in real ways. And I wouldn't have them act any other way.

Your favorite doesn't need to be a saint. You don't have to bend over backwards to defend your fave in order to make them the morally correct person in any given situation. Let yourself love a rich, flawed character. Because they deserve to be loved for their flaws and all.

They deserve to be loved as people.

#ghostbur #technoblade #philza #ph1lza #wilbur soot #philza minecraft #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp wilbur #dsmp philza #dsmp techno #dream smp writing #character analysis #dream smp analysis #dream smp doomsday #dream smp spoilers

[docholligay]

I am so frustrated with this ahahahahah. Anyway, the request was “Avital, after Winston dies” 

“We are going to find a solution to this problem, and that solution will include my uncle in the ground here.” 

Avi’s accent was strange, even she was quick to admit, seemingly drifting around the world, despite spending the vast majority of her life on London’s East End. Certainly, you could hear that, as she sat around with her friends and laughed and joked, her h softening until it quietly disappeared. You could hear her Swiss mother, in moments, the lilt at the end of a word, the musical cadence of a sentence when Avi tried to comfort someone. Sometimes the simple American of her uncle seemed to suffice in the lab, or crept in as she sat thinking. Mostly, she was her own strange quilt of all she had loved and been loved by all of her life. 

There was no drift with her mother’s curt formality. It was a tool that left little room for ambiguity and questioning, and though Avi could not see herself in this moment, she knew she would be the match of Pharah in her body: chin straight, shoulders squared, stance locked. Her mother had a bearing that quashed opposition before it began, when she chose to wear it, and Avi had taken it for herself with pleasure. 

One could almost feel sorry for the man before her, taller than Avi but seeming so much weaker before her as Avital held a box in front of her and wordlessly stared at him with her falcon’s gaze, smaller than her mother but no less forceful. 

“Miss Ziegler-Amari,” he rubbed his hands together, “this cemetery has been in use since before the first world war, and there are traditions.” 

“Yes,” Avital nodded, “I imagine that to be true. I also imagine over the years, some of them have been amended. I imagine there was a time I could not have been buried in this cemetery for the crime of being a Jew, and yet that seems to have been rightfully amended, over the years. It is time,” she stood a little straighter, “For an amendment.” 

He went to his desk and sat behind like a child being send to the corner, and Avi did not oblige him by sitting as well. 

“It’s very difficult,” he cleared his throat, “in this country, to overcome years of tradition. Burying animal--” 

“My uncle Winston was not an animal.” She held the box more tightly. “He was presented with the full rights of a human being under British law, and I am more than happy to present the papers saying as much.” 

“Miss--”

“My uncle saved this city. He helped to save the world, and all he wanted, in all of it, was to be laid here with Lena. I promised him I would do it. I assure you that I will. I know there is one space left in her plot, for an urn, and that this was always her intention as well. It is also, my intention. I am very good at making my intentions into fact.” 

People said they reminded her of her Mutti, when she first met them, with her blonde hair and soft cheek, but it took only a matter of weeks for most to note that Avital Zeigler-Amari had more than a fair part of Fareeha in her, once you stopped looking at the wrapper. 

The man thought for a moment, and then grabbed for a piece of paper. 

“We’re having a meeting, March the first. I can’t promise anything,” he looked at her cautiously, “but I will bring this matter to their attention. We of course know of Win--,” he noted the sharpness in her eyes, “Dr. Oxton’s contributions to the city.” 

Avi nodded, clicked her heels together quite without meaning to, and went to go, wooden box still in her arms. She stopped at the door, and looked back. 

“I am perfectly capable of a promise, and that promise is, you will find my tenacity on this matter to be a hound from hell, biting at your ankles.” 

It was a bit dramatic, she supposed, which was unlike her, or her Mum, who would have offered the simple direct threat--no, not a threat, a promise--that she would pursue this until it reached a satisfying conclusion. She would mean, of course, that he would eventually fall before her like an exhausted fox, and just as likely to be torn apart, but she would not have said that. Her Mum, even in hyer most serious moments, was not given to dramatics. 

Well, she was allowed to have her own personality, even in her threats, then, wasn’t she? 

She walked out of the cemetery with the box held tight, and felt the rigidity and discipline that guided so much of her life falling away from her. She was angry, of course. Furious, that they would deny Winston this, after everything that he’d done, after all the good he’d brought to London on top of saving it, that simply putting a box in the ground where it was meant to go was just a bridge too far. The section he was to be buried in might as well be its own small Oxton park, and they had all said they were only too happy to have him laid there, but that still didn’t matter. Enraging. 

But she was also very sad, and very hurt, and it was this part of her that felt tears sting her eyes as she left the cemetery and crossed back toward the train, toward the place she had never been able to think of as an old warehouse, but had always been her Uncle Winston’s home. It was her home, now, much to her great and perhaps foolish shock, along with the royalties to a few patents and a few sentimental pieces. 

Avital had promised him. The Oxtons would be in charge of the funeral, for, it was well known, no one threw a funeral like they did, but Avi would handle all of the affairs in general, settle out the will, cremate him, and bury the ashes where Lena’s had been 20 years before. 

He’d never stopped missing her. 

It wasn’t that he had an unhappy life, or at least, he certainly didn’t seem to, but she knew that in the back of his thoughts, she was always there, smiling and laughing. It was a bit like living with a ghost, knowing of Lena, someone she had never met but felt she knew intimately. Avi had understood, and so Avi had promised him. 

She could fail him, and that thought made those tears pool onto her cheeks, which only made her flush hotter and angrier. 

The train squealed into the station, and she quietly thanked God for whatever English awkwardness it was that kept people from so much as looking her directly as she tried to dry her tears, never releasing her grip on that wooden box that held one of the people she had loved most. In fairness, she never looked either, claiming some English awkwardness of her own by birthright, which occasionally seemed to clash with her Egyptian directness. 

She took a deep breath and leaned against the bar as they headed further into the city. It had been less than a month, and there was no reason to imagine that she would be over the sadness of it by now. It was, she supposed, the first major loss in her life since her beloved cat died when she was ten, when she had learned in some way that those things we love can leave us, and since her Mum had taught her that in some other way, they never do. 

This was harder she thought, and then laughed at the thought immediately. How could she ever imagine that it would be the same to lose someone who had helped to raise her? She could be so terribly naive, even at the age of 20, and she had been so spoiled not to know death, not in the way that one feels its icy fingers close around one’s heart, until now. Her Mutti had lost her parents at 13. 

The high, painful screech of the train brakes whistled in her ears. 

Your parents are going to die.

It was a horrifying thought, and all the more horrifying for the fact that Avi knew it was real. She had always known, intellectually, in the way that she had known her uncle was fading when she had decided to live with him and care for him, but now it was suddenly too obvious and too real in her mind. She had felt it, as those fingers closed upon her heart. Her Uncle Winston had sickened and died, and someday so would her Mutti, and her Teta, and, even as impossible and horrible as it seemed, someday, too, would her rock-solid Mum. 

She rushed off the train, breathing hard, wanting to cry and scream all at once, that she had not been ready for her Uncle Winston to die, that she was not ready for the possibility that he had kept every promise made to her and she might fail the one she made to him, that all of this was so clearly unfair and yet the world seemed to go not caring much for her protests. 

She closed her eyes, her breath echoing in her ears. Calm. This happens to almost everyone. Something can be new, and painful, and very survivable. Open. The world became a bit clearer for a moment. It wasn’t that Avital had any particular problem with crying--she had done a fair amount of it this past month--but she did have a problem with spiraling into a breakdown in the middle of a train station about something that had yet to happen and with any luck, would not chase her down for many years. Just a ghost of the future. 

It would be so silent, back at the house, and she shuddered, rubbing at the lid of the box. It had been so silent, as she sat planning her life, reading her acceptance letter to the University of Edinburgh, a gifted language student, she was called. Silent as she remembered how her uncle had laid aside enough for her to easily have an apartment, buy books, anything she needed, for when she decided to go. Silent as she pondered the turn her life had taken, and where she would go next with it. 

Avital shivered. 

There would be ghosts in her home, tonight, the echoes of her uncle’s voice off the walls, his laughter now only a faraway note in the silent and still air. The potential of her failure would be there too, whispering, giggling, telling her that Avital Ziegler-Amari could not quite be the winner of all things, could she? The past could be so loud, when the future was so uncertain. 

But try as she might, she could not hear her uncle’s voice saying he was disappointed in her. Even failure could not make that true. Fear cannot make love lie, not if it’s real, and her uncle’s love for her was the loudest ghost of all, and she saw it shining out of the windows as she walked down the street toward the house that was theirs and then his and was now hers. It would become her home, too, and she stared at it, and held the box close, and let the ghosts of love and of joy, of Christmases spent in laughter with Lena and Hanukkahs spent in coziness with Avital, chatty dinners with the entire Overwatch family, a dozen birthday parties where he spoiled her, and all the ways that Winston had filled that place with warmth, wash over it. 

She took another step through the gloom and damp of the afternoon. There would be ghosts, but as many for her as against her, and she was no coward. 

Winston belonged in that cemetery, and Avital belonged here, and both would be nothing but fact, in the end.

#Holligay Angstober

[galleryfake]

in depth headcanon prompts;

from this post !

are there any recent/daily thoughts they have about death or dying?

he does not think about it, nor does he worry about it — the only times it comes into his thought process is when his survival instincts kick in for whatever reason, and he needs to remind himself that he must suppress the urge for flight and focus on the fight, even if he perishes in the process. he goes into dangerous situation with the acceptance that he may not survive it, and is relatively at peace with that.

do they believe for every darkness there is a lightness? if not, why?

nope. the belief of “light” and “dark” isn’t factual enough for him and he doesn’t care for or understand such comparisons. all he knows is loyalty to his loved ones and complete apathy for everyone else. food for the spider’s web.

name one thing about the way their emotions work that they despise.

haha, oh yes — his emotions completely get away from him when his troupemates are in danger, and he’s more prone to acting irrationally than he ever is ; see the conflict over whether or not to let paku go alone to see kurapika. the fact that he’d gladly comply with a captor’s demands just to see paku and chrollo unharmed speaks VOLUMES. 

would they ever wish upon a falling star? if so, what would they wish?

nah, he wouldn’t. he’s more likely to quietly be reminded of a fact about meteorites he read about in a book once, and relay it to whoever he’s with if they bring it up.

describe how they would spend a stormy, overcast/rainy day.

inside, watching out the window. he doesn’t have much of a problem regulating his body temperature ever since he started developing his transmutation skills and it ended up expressing as ice — in simpler words, he’s not bothered by the cold anymore. he likes to watch the weather as it fluctuates and ponder each raindrop as it falls, it’s pretty easy for him to get lost in thought about pretty much anything. troupe’s #1 space cadet, challenged in ranking only by shizuku.

storms or clear skies?

storms, for the reasons mentioned directly above.

what about nature do they find calming? what about nature do they find disagreeable?

he’s fairly neutral on pretty much everything relating to it, aside from sating his natural curiosity of the world around him by gathering information about it in his spare time ; he can certainly tell you a few things about a particular biome or species of animal if he’s happened to read up on it. the only thing he actual hates is strong windstorms — he clocks in at about sixty-five pounds and is susceptible to being yanked around by gusts of wind, plus it makes his hair an absolute NIGHTMARE to untangle later. 

list three or more people they would call out for during an emergency.

he wouldn’t. he blames himself & his own lack of fortitude for any unfortunate situation he finds himself in and doesn’t expect anyone to help him. he is surprised and very grateful anytime someone helps him out of an emergency ; it’s one sure-fire way to get in his good favor.

what is their typical response to being given orders?

from chrollo? absolute compliance, no questions asked. from literally ANYONE else? he will argue with you if he deems the order invalid in any way, and whether or not he ends up following anyways depends completely on his own whims.

describe a thought or dream that would cause them to have a mental meltdown.

he’s never been the type to have very emotionally intense dreams, so when he does have them, they throw him completely off his game and he may act very unlike himself until he gets back into his groove. ( gestures to this thread for an example of that. )

are there any reasons why they would ever think of self-harm? if so, what are they?

( content warning for suicide and self-harm below. ) ah, yes. pre-troupe, when he was still under the care of medical caretakers with questionable credentials in meteor city, he would attempt to end his own life with any nearby tools to escape from the utter hopelessness of medical confinement with no end in sight. after he escaped and went to live on the outskirts on his own, he was in a lot of pain for several months due to his body re-adjusting to the harshness of his conditions and would paradoxically slash at his own arms and neck in an attempt to feel some sense of control over the pain by causing it himself. it is only by a SHEER series of miracles that he’s managed to survive this long — although, after having unlocked his full potential with nen, he is much more hardy nowadays.

describe a physical action that shows complete trust.

hand-holding. as a conjurer and a transmuter channeling an element of the weather, his hands are the sole conductors of his power. anyone outside the troupe who even tries to capture his hands will swiftly find themselves with a limb twisted off or some similar wound of instinctual self-defense.

describe a verbal way they would express complete trust.

haha, he speaks pretty bluntly, so i would imagine he’d just say “i trust you”. he doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean, so having it spoken aloud would be proof enough to anyone that knows him that he means it. 

explain how they portray feelings of hostility or dislike.

honestly, it’s pretty hard for him to feel such a thing, because he’s more prone to being curious why someone is Like That rather than disliking it right off the bat. in the case of him finally getting outright tired of someone’s shit, he just avoids them like the plague. when even kortopi gets up and leaves to avoid being in the same room with you, it’s probably time to think about your life and life choices. 😂

what is something that causes them to question themself?

paku’s death was a BIG one that caused him to silently marinate in doubt and self-hate for weeks afterwards. in general, being told that his stance on something is wrong, or even worse, being proven on this is something that disturbs him and will bother him for weeks, prompting him to scramble for the source of the inconsistency within himself so he can correct it. with things that have to do with emotions or his gut reactions, he has no idea how to deal with it and will likely become distant for a while, spacing out into thought on level that even surpasses shizuku.

on a sleepless night, what would they be found doing?

reading a physical book or something on his phone, or shalnark’s laptop, if he’s truly unable to sleep. if he’s just having trouble falling asleep, he’ll just space out in thought, following his train of thought wherever it happens to take him until unconsciousness finally overtakes him. 

name at least two people who can trust them with their life.

tagging the boyfriend @painxpacker and the bff @kyousei . fei & shal are without a doubt his most important people on an emotional level, his loyalty to chrollo residing in a different part of his brain altogether. he would die for chrollo if ordered ; he would do anything for feitan and shalnark, for any reason.

describe a way that will earn affection (whether platonic or romantic) from them.

he very much enjoys being infodumped to, as it piques his natural curiosity about everything and deviates from the norm of him just being given the basics of an order to be carried out ; carry on a conversation with him about something you’re interested in and let him ask a bunch of questions about it, and you may find him hanging around you more often.

describe a way to make them uneasy or apprehensive.

he has trouble understanding some of the more emotionally-driven members such as nobunaga and phinks, and finds their manner of thinking to be more or less unpredictable. he doesn’t avoid them persay, but he is more aware when talking to them that they may suddenly blow up or act irrationally. this doesn’t change the way he speaks to them whatsoever, it just adds an extra element of caution to his demeanor. 

are they prone to violent outbursts or thoughts?

to say that he would never have an outburst would be a lie, but, i mean. the chance of it happening is like.... 0.001%. he is so utterly desensitized to violence that he can hardly even recognize it as such when it happens anymore, especially if there’s only a single target being maimed and there’s no one around to scream about it the horror of it all. 

what are their creative outlets?

his transmutation nen is the main source — while conjuration is rather straightforward, there is a lot of variation to be had in manifesting ice crystals or frigid winds with his nen, and he messes around with it whenever the thought occurs to him to try something out in a particular set of circumstances. 

do they tend to rely on words or actions more?

words and actions are one in the same to him. if he speaks something, he wouldn’t hesitate to act on it as well. if he acts on something, he would have no trouble relaying it in words. there is nothing ambiguous about the way he goes about things and that is his greatest strength as a member of the troupe. 

#cw: self harm #cw: suicide #✧ headcanons — illusionary spider #; jolt at it again with the headcanon posts clocking in at fic-length wordcounts

[plunder-heaven-and-devour-god]

im gonna go full english lit under the cut

I saw measure for measure??? with my local Shakespeare in the Park about  month and a half ago and im mcfucking obsessed with it. So much so that ive tried to find every clip of every film, every show, rehearsal, production, that i can to compare how scenes played out. I even listened to a harvard lecture about it, i’m that far gone. I BOUGHT. A SHIRT. I bought the book with additional notes and discussions because this play is fascinating.

WHY AM I OBSESSED?!

All readings through different lenses are there in full force, fully supported, living side beside with one another. And professors, actors, directors, scholars etc, all seem to congregate on the fact that not one reading is more valid than the other. Theyre so well balanced without ever really given moral answers but merely presented, almost like the Jacobean meaning of the “glass” both a mirror to predict the future and reflect on oneself. And in a post elizabethan age where puritans were outlawing plays and putting stricter holds on licentiousess this play is so close to upsetting the dominant religious force.

And the READINGS! ARE ALL! SO GOOD! There is historicist reading (king James I), Folkloric, Religious, SadoMasochist, Psychosexual, Moral, Feminist, and Capitalistic readings. THEY ALL EXIST SIDE BY SIDE.

And the staging of the play determines how many of these a production can pull together. I think that is why I wanted to see as many scenes are possible. 

I think just the way Angelo and Isabella are played will determine which main reading the play tackles. 

I’ve seen some versions of the interview scenes that are truly horrific acts of sexual violence that made me watch between my fingers. In this the feminist reading can come into full force, the full underline of Angelo as a sexual predator is made prevalent. And the line “and with an outstretched throat i will tell the world what man thou art, Angelo” being present that strong feminist reading IS ALWAYS THERE. (DID I MENTION I LOVE ISABELLA FLAWS AND ALL). The idea that Isabellas voice is the most crucial device in the play is FLOORING.  

The Duke being a nearly godly figure who knows all and manipulates all, Angelo as his emissary becomes like an angel in the process of self corruption, from the inhumane ice he is so dubbed to warmed by the sins he so condemns. And Isabella defending the thing she so hates because it is her brother who commits the sin is the defense of someone who does not truly believe her brother is just. Mercy as justice. To wield power and to use it for mercy is so profound, and she is the only one who carries her ethos through like this to the end ofthe play. I’m not a theologist but so far this is the reading of theologists into the matter.

The version I saw in person he practically throws himself at her feet and it becomes an interplay of the psychosexual and moral. His knees buckle under her touch, it becomes the interaction of repressed sexuality channeled into both law and religion. In the Stratford production Isabella wipes her brow with water out of disgust or heat, no one is sure. it’s left ambivalent. In the one I saw Angelo was made almost comedic and sympathetic, which made ISabellas mercy still feel like an axe coming down upon his head. 

And then characters like Barnadine just using comedy, the genre of the gods as the greeks called it, to dimish law, to put it to shame. To put the godly/playwright Duke in his place.

The folkloric bed switch (which is folklore yes but Im not totally comfortable calling it consensual even tho Angelo is a sexual predator you can bring modern sensibilities to the reading), is indicative of oral traditions that predate shakespeare. The idea that every character must do in this play the thing they most loathe to do.

Claudio fears death so he must die, Isabella must have sex to save a life when she has sworn herself to chastity. Then they both sort of hurt each other, Claudio by asking her to yield herself up to this non consensual sexual coercion of upmost grossness, and isabella by telling him to be happy he will die because there is nothing so painful as being alive (ISABELLA HES AN EXPECTING FATHER). He asks her to do the thing she loathes most in a fit of desperation because the man who loves life must die. And Isabella the woman who “would wear these keen whips as rubies” would have have done anything but sex, tells her brother that living isnt worth it. ITS INTENSE. LIKE WOW.

It’s absolutely no surprise that Isabella and Angelo are my favourite characters in the play. This awful sexual coercion (the degree of violence is dependant on staging which is like holy shit WTF), lives side by side with the fact that they are the two only people whose language, diction, beats, and intelligence matches each other. They both have the same fervor for their moral divisions and hierarchies. The idea of strict testing of morals and faith is in the text. Isabella wishes for harsher, more challenging, and harrowing tests of faith. You can argue as to why, I personally think its for the strengthening of faith and connection to the divine. Meanwhile Angelo is the one setting restrictions for hundreds of thousands of vienna, setting those on other people to strengthen the connection to a higher moral fibre, and I think in some respects faith as well but thats my interpretation. 

Where others live their vices without restrictions, these two set limits for either themselves and/or others to be something more. They are in the way that motif of the “glass” The mirror. In that sense they reflect each other, but they also become each others foil. Which is why I do think a case can be made for the parallels with the psycho sexual and the SadoMasochist readings. Restraints for rewards, the repression on both their parts is there.

I’m not saying that negates the strong feminist reading or in anyway shape or form validates the absolute horror of the coerced sex/rape. I just say that they exist side by side with each other. They are equals in text/language/fervour AND YET they are not because he holds every power over her and her brother. He wants to restrict others where he cannot restrict himself, and Isabella restricts herself in part because she lives in a Vienna full of vice. She has a control over her own self that he proves not to have. And HE has a control over the world of the play that she cant. 

AND YET. SHE IS MARRIED TO THE DUKE. SHE MARRIES INTO PROMINENCE. I don’t love the idea that she does not become a nun, her original want, and is instead coopted by the shitty duke (i am not pro duke sorry). The only upside at the end of the play is that Isabella can, in some measure, have political sway over the masses. Meanwhile Angelos fall and forgiveness put him into a marriage where his vice of coercive sex becomes consummation of a sleeping marriage. IT FEELS LIKE they sort of mirror each other the whole way through the play. ITS WEIRD BECAUSE THERE IS SO MUCH SEXUAL AND POLITICAL INEQUALITY TO THEM. ITs a play full of contradictions which I LOVE BECAUSE IT IS NOT SIMPLE NOT BECAUSE IT IS RIGHT. I do think there is a case to be made that Isabella unwillingly comes face to face with sexuality, his and hers, and its not on terms she wants, but it happens. And you see her struggling to maintain the authority over her own autonomy. But then she has to contemplate sex for herself, “to give up her boy into saucy sweetness, licentiousness, the filthy vices”. What does ISabella do when she comes face to face with her own sexual needs, whatever she may be? We have productions in the Stratford archives from 50 years ago that make an ambiguous case that the meeting of morality and sex might actually do something for her? I DON’T KNOW. The readings keep coming. There is a possiblity for a strong Ace reading for her which no one really touches on. 

ON A LIGHTER NOTE

This play has my favourite sexual innuendo. When theyre like “WHAT DID CLAUDIO DO?”

“Her?”

“no! What did he do to get taken away by the provost”

“HIS GIRLFRIEND.” 

(god and isnt it nuts that the first man on the scaffold for unlawful fornication IS IN A CONSENSUAL LOVING RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND, A BOND AND CRIME THAT THE LAW (ANGELO) HAVE DEEMED IMMORAL. YET THE LAW (ANGELO) WOULD HAVE IT PARDONNED BY A NON CONSENSUAL SEX FOR EXECUTION PARDON. THE MASK OF MORALITY OF ANGELO. JFC HES SO FUCKED, like hes AWFUL, because he ends up sending claudio to death after he thinks hes had sex with isabella. LIKE WHAT A PIECE OF SHIT ND YET STILL WEARS THE LAW AS HIS MASK AFTER THE ANGEL HAS FALLEN. ITS COMPLEX AND I LOVE IT)

God and just…the sex jokes, the black comedy of barnadine right next to the high shooting morals of angelo, isabella, and mariana (another complex af character. The 1976 version certainly makes a psychosexual explanation out of that, which im not sure i enjoy. Again the psychosexual has its limits in a play about sexual coercion and rape)

AND THE FACT THAT MERCY IS WHAT SETS YOU FREE, LIKE PROSPERO FORGIVING HIS ENEMIES, ISABELLA FORGIVING ANGELO IS A HERCULEAN FEAT, IT FEELS CLOSE TO GODLINESS IDK MAN. AND I UNDERSTAND WHY SHE TELLS HER BROTHER NO I WONT SLEEP WITH HIM FOR YOUR LIFE BECAUSE ITS RAPE, BUT THEN IS LIKE BE GLAD BEING ALIVE IS SHITTY ANYWAYS. Im like? ISABELLA? WHAT?! ISabella does not know about herself that she can be desired because GOD DOES IT TAKE HER A WHILE TO UNDERSTAND ANGELOS MEANING, and yet shes got such a force for words. I find it hard to think being married to the duke that she wont have some power. 

And the exchange of Angelo and Isabella in the second interview.

-His moral stance on unlawful fornication starts with abortive language, the harsh restrictions but DEVOLVES INTO THE SEXUAL WITH THE INTELLECTUAL DICTION, It becomes a mirror of himself until he is explicit of what he wants from her. (OH GOD TRULY HE GIVES ME NAUSEOUS AND YET THE ONE IN THE PLAY I SAW HE WAS ENTHRALLING I HATE THE RANGE OF THINGS ANGELO CAN MAKE ME FEEL). His mask of morality is slowly removed

-ISABELLA must argue on behalf of her brother, believing in restrictions of the kid angelo speaks of, they believe in restraining oneself to achieve a higher form of being, and yet has to straight up defend something she hates because she loves her brother. And ANGELO CAN SEE IT. I WISH THERE WAS AN AFTERMATH WHERE WE SEE HER USING HER INTELLECT AND WORDS FOR HER ENDS. 

I truly think the second interview scene is one of the best exchanges Billy Shakes wrote. Because it ENDS LIKE THAT. GOD the david tennant one is chilling, the oregon shakespeare festival one is fucked. The 1976 which is the most psychosexual was so intensely disturbing that the Angelo got applause for it. IDK What that means and im too scared to ask. Idk how the RSC managed because youtbe doesnt show me that. The Repurcussion theatre was the most varied array of contradictions for angelo instead of just corrupt judge. It literally is all the shakespeare villains that do the most heinous things that Im like THATS MY FAVE. Iago was just RACISM/Sociopath and fifteen year old me was like YES HIM. I mean Richard III is bad but hes fun. ANGELO AT THE BEST IS A SEXUAL PREDATOR AND YET IM STILL LIKE WOW HOW COMPLEX ALSO THE ACTOR WAS SO GOOD LOOKING AND PLAYING UP THE BDSM BOTTOM ANGLE I WAS GONE. 

And the Isabellas go from wilting lily, to some sort of quiet and reserved girl, and the one i saw was literally “she is tiny but fierce” like her voice was really forceful and i thought it was amazing. 

THIS PLAY IS FUCKED WHEN IT COMES TO THESE READINGS LIVING SIDE BY SIDE BUT BOY IS THIS INTERESTING. 

if you made it this far wow holy shit. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#in which i have a mental breakdown about shakespeare #measure for measure #this is my shame and pride #its a really great play and i wish i was in school to study it academically #but im not so i gotta settle for seeing what harvard english lit says

[my-hand-in-your-pocket]

Pally parent memory time!

“It happened that a dog had got a piece of meat and was carrying it home in his mouth to eat it in peace. Now on his way home he had to cross a plink - a plank lying across a running brook. As he crossed, he looked down and saw his own shadow reflec- mrr, ref-reflected, in the water beneath. Think-thinking it was another dog with another piece of meat, he made up his mind to have that also. So he made a snap at the shadow in the water, but as he opened his mouth the piece of meat fell out, dropped into the water and was never seen more.”

Pallaxas looked up from the tattered book and searched his sire’s eyes, hoping for some sign of approval. The pup burgeoned on the edge of adolescence and stood only a foot shorter than his father. He had spent years learning to read and speak the human tongue - which he learned was only one of many called “English”. It was a foul language full of twists and turns, ambiguous wording and confusing meanings needing a legion of contextual explanation to reach any hope of comprehension. That his sire chose this for him to learn made him feel as if he were being tested.

His sire asked.

“Be-beware lest you lose the s-sub, stance - s-substance by grasping at the shadow,” Pallaxas concluded.

the vandal said.

His sire asked.

Pallaxas said,

His sire asked.

He asked.

His sire said.

Pallaxas frowned.

His sire asked.

Pallaxas said.

his sire said. The man unsheathed his shock dagger and gazed at its razor-sharp edge. Pallaxas could smell a faint trace of ozone wafting up from the oft-used weapon. his sire continued. because we are better.>

the boy growled.

His sire raised a hand.

The boy protested.

His sire asked.

Pallaxas grew silent and stared at his father for a time as he digested this information. A simple text, so old it was falling apart, had become an object of his derision - yet in a moment’s notice, it became a whole new dimension of understanding.

knowledge is power,> his sire said.

The boy closed the book and rubbed its worn, canvas cover like he had so many years ago, when he was a mere runt waiting for scraps of ether. He studied the title that was once indecipherable and pondered the little book of human fables for a time.

#disclaimer: character views do not equal mun views xD #Anonymous