#But that is UNEQUIVOCALLY not the fucking same as being at home.

[privateerstudies]

.

[eroguron0nsense]

Garp Rant #11543

Because I'm something of a Certified Garp Hater/extremely obsessed with this man, and because Tumblr people seem to like my Garp takes and/or find them extremely pain-inducing, here's another one for funsies! Again, Garp is an incredibly written character and I massively enjoy his moral failings and human shortcomings, hence why I won't shut up about how much he sucks. So we all remember Garp crying in front of Ace during his imprisonment and awaiting his execution, lamenting the fact that his son and grandson could have maybe avoided this horrible horrible fate that awaits them at Marineford if they'd just become good marines like he'd tried to press them into. Every time he says it, he sounds more desperate, sadder, and angrier, like he's experiencing the stages of grief and going through denial, anger bargaining all at once, lashing out at his grandkids for supposedly causing him grief by defying his wishes, or maybe praying or wishing for a world where they could have followed in his footsteps and lived happily ever after. And when Ace hears that again at Impel Down, he says this:

Here's the thing though: Ace is unequivocally correct Garp should, by all rights, know this. He lived through the fallout of Roger's execution. He knew long before that exactly what would happen to Roger's loved ones and anyone the government could get their hands on who'd ever associated with him. Even before they started committing femicides/infanticides in Baterilla trying to end Roger's bloodline, he knew that the Marines were going to target completely innocent people in the name of purging the bloodline and cementing their "victory" over the greatest threat they'd ever faced. He specifically had to smuggle Rouge out of there so she could give birth to Ace, and all the while dozens of families were being brutalized by his peers and having their lives torn apart. That was the cost the Marines were willing to incur to kill a hypothetical infant, and years later, when that very same child is set to be executed, Sengoku goes on a remorseless public tirade about the necessity of killing babies and the horrible trickery and audacity Rouge displayed by dying so that they wouldn't kill her baby too.

Garp knows every single piece of this information in painful, excruciating detail. He's so horrified by it he feels the need to fulfill this wish of Roger's because he knows blameless people will die. He has Ace raised in secret to protect him from Marines who are figuratively and literally out for his blood. And yet, throughout this boy's childhood, he clings to the notion that maybe, just maybe, the people he knows regularly commit atrocities, who have carried out at least 3 genocides that we know of in Garp's lifetime, who were willing to commit mass infanticide for a woman and child they hadn't verified the existence or identity of at the time, would have accepted him within their ranks and turned a blind eye to that information when it eventually, inevitably surfaced. That Ace can find salvation from the people who stole every loved one he ever had before he was even born, who slaughtered his mother's community and pushed her to her death, and were slavering at the opportunity to kill her. That even though Ace was born in direct opposition to them, has had a target trained on him before he was born, these people who tried so goddamn hard to kill him would surely welcome his presence and not murder him the second they found out if he could just be a compliant model soldier and make himself useful. It's hammered home pretty effectively–especially in the manga– and One Piece has never been known to be subtle in its messaging, but I swear to God I see so many people echoing the notion that Garp's attempts to force his grandchildren into serving the Evil Empire was done because he knew was their only shot at safety from the WG, and I fucking despise this take. Ace saying that he could never be a marine here in Impel Down isn't some young man's rationalization for his (beyond valid) desire not to subscribe to the preset path Garp laid out for him; it's literally the only logical conclusion if you know literally anything about the circumstances of his birth and upbringing, and Garp only thinks that the leopards wouldn't eat Ace's face because he's fucking delusional This in and of itself is extremely telling of how horribly warped Garp's perception of the Navy is, and how deeply he's willing to buy into the Marines and their warped propaganda no matter how many glaring examples he sees throughout his life that counter his worldview, but let's not forget that this applies to Luffy too. This is slightly hairier, in that if Luffy was a) the sort of person who could willingly accept a career in the marines and b) managed to cling really, really tightly to his grandfather's coattails and legacy, there might have been a very, infinitesimally small chance that he could have joined the Navy. The higher ups know that Dragon is Garp's son and therefore Luffy is Dragon's by logical inference, but I could see some AU where Luffy is a fundamentally different person and manages to build himself up in the Navy if not for two things I think warrant examination. It's pretty evident, and Dragon explicitly confirms, that Luffy being known as his son would have put him in incredible danger, only feeling comfortable with acknowledging it and the possibility of actually reuniting with his child after Luffy was both publicly recognized due to factors beyond his control, and proved that he was more than capable of holding his own. But I want to draw attention to this one otherwise pretty silly little gag moment between Garp and Sengoku when they learn that Luffy's broken into Impel Down, and present a theory that's kind of a reach but also not really

Now the phrasing here kind of interests me, in that it ties back to earlier demonstrated patterns that the Navy uses repeatedly in collective punishment for the families and loved ones of their primary targets. Rouge and Ace barely escaped the mass murders intended for them because of their connection, but Tom was also originally sentenced to death for having had a connection to Roger, and ultimately chose that as the offence he wanted to be sentenced for at Enies Lobby. Law, as a child survivor of Flevance, has multiple hospitals try and turn him in to the World Government to be killed when Cora tries to find someone to treat him because their policy is to pull out the roots and salt the earth whenever they deem a person or population politically inconvenient. Robin's flashback shows us Akainu blowing up a refugee boat on the off chance that one of those people that they were planning to evacuate might have gotten past their initial screening for archaeologists/poneglyph readers. At Marineford, Akainu specifically targets Luffy not because of his prior offences or even his attempt to rescue Ace, but because he's Dragon's son and his and Roger's bloodlines need to be eradicated. This is not an institution that is in any way reluctant to destroy anyone tangentially affiliated to a designated enemy, and Luffy being the son of the worst criminal in history seems to put him right in line with all of those other cases. In light of this, and Garp's massive blind spots and wishful thinking regarding his peers and employers, it's not that much of a stretch to assume that the only reason Garp's exempt from being targeted like Dragon is because of his popularity/symbolic importance/utility, and that Luffy likely wouldn't have been safe even if he weren't a pirate. Garp's circle of confidantes/friends in high places is powerful, but clearly there are factions (Akainu, Ryokugyu etc) that would be substantially less willing and who are given preferential treatment by the Elders and Celestial Dragons. There might be something to read into based on the fact that Garp is the only known person from a D bloodline who's achieved massive success in service to the World Government and not defected from the Navy after realizing its true nature (props to Saul), and therefore he might project the fact that he's been rewarded by the system despite being a "sworn enemy of the Gods" onto his family, but that still doesn't account for the massive, delusional arrogance he displays in insisting that, despite everything–especially, especially the murders committed in pursuit of Ace, that robbed him of his birth mother and community–the Navy is the best and safest place for either of those boys. TLDR Garp not wanting his grandsons to have a bounties on their heads is one thing, but it says a lot that in spite of everything he knows, he's willing/determined to put Ace and Luffy in an environment that's extremely dangerous for them –and in Ace's case 100%, unquestionably fatal– because he's so convinced that compliance and the platonic ideals of "justice" and military service/hard work being rewarded by the system could supersede all of that.

[ivymarquis]

Ivy's Belated Kinktober 2k24 Extravaganza

A Quiet Corner

Day Two - Risky Place Soap x Reader WC: 1771 Content: Risky sex, semi-public sex, oral (F!receiving), PiV

Kinktober Masterlist Day One: Dirty Talk | Day Three: Stuck In The Wall

“Johnny, we can’t!” You hiss, trying to sway your boyfriend from doing the thing he is very obviously planning on doing. 

(The thing being fucking you within an inch of your life inside a supply closet.)

“Think you’ll find tha' we can, bonnie. Very, very easily,” he assures you with lust rolling through his words like velvet.

Your protests are, admittedly, half hearted. It’s not that you’re not interested- you very much want to climb him like a tree. But good God you’re in public. It’s not even like they returned home at 3am where there’s some plausible deniability that your tryst will go unnoticed. 

It’s broad daylight, and you kinda want to throw something at Ghost’s head because you know he knows Johnny is trying to sweet talk you into something illicit.

“It’s the middle of the day!” You point out the obvious, like that’s going to even remotely sway him. 

“It’s been three weeks,” is Johnny’s equally reasonable counter to you stating the obvious. 

And, damn him, he makes a fair point. But you’re not animals in heat, you can wait until the pair of you are somewhere private. You don’t have to-

-let Johnny drag you into a supply closet that he swears is far enough off the beaten path that no one should need it for the time this will take. 

How did you go from “We are not fucking in a closet” to being dragged into said closet?

Should you put your foot down and tell him unequivocally that the answer is “no”, you have no doubts that he would immediately yield to you. He would not push the matter. 

But he knows when you’re protesting in a mock outrage for propriety’s sake and not because of your own desires or a lack thereof. 

So yes, he’s running amok and trying his best to charm you out of your panties. Much to your annoyance, it is working. 

No sooner than the door clicks shut behind you- shut and not locked, a part of you remembers- Johnny devours you. Three weeks of longing and desire and unbridled lust welling up and spilling over as the pair of you pry at each other's clothes, lips locked together. 

The clock is officially ticking, and Murphy’s law dictates that at some point the pair of you are going to get walked in on no matter how rarely this closet is used. 

As much as you’d like to take the time to strip down to nothing (and strip Johnny down to nothing), that’s a bad idea. 

It seems that he is on the same page as you, pawing at the buckle of your belt so he can yank your pants down your thighs.

Johnny’s never been one to fear chasing what he wants. It’s obvious what he wants from the moon eyed expression fixated between your thighs and the way he jerks your pants down more to get better access between your legs and drops to his knees. 

The way he descends on you immediately has you leaning against the wall behind you for support.

There is nothing protecting the pair of you if someone walks in. Sure, Johnny kneeling in front of you will provide some coverage for the most important bits, but there’s absolutely no hiding what he’s up to. Not with the sound of his tongue lapping against your pussy like his life depends on it. 

It’s hard to keep quiet with him putting forth his best efforts to make you squeal. You’re really in trouble when he shifts between your thighs to quickly work one finger into you, only to make it two when he thinks you can take it. 

“Fuck, Johnny,” the pleading whine escapes you. Even you don’t know if you’re begging for mercy or for him to finish you off. 

“Three fuckin' weeks,” he admonishes with his head still buried between your thighs. Like it’s your fault he’s the one who gets sent to fuck-knows-where at the drop of a hat. 

His fingers find the spot that makes your legs shake. One of your hands buries in his hair, the other clamping against your mouth to muffle the noises threatening to escape.

“Almost a month without this sweet cunt,” he groans against your skin. It’s all you can do to breathe and let out a low moan as he alternates between pointedly latching and sucking on your clit, and letting go with a lewd pop just to tease your lower lips with the tip of his tongue before starting the whole cycle over again. 

His fingers haven’t let up on the abuse of your g-spot once. 

“Need ye tae cum, lass. Need the taste o' ye squirtin' all over my face.”

With all the focus he’s put into achieving his mission, it’s no surprise at all when you do exactly as told. 

One hand doesn’t feel like it’s enough to keep you quiet, but if you release the death grip you have on his hair with the other hand you worry you might fall over from how your legs are shaking. 

It’s a fight to get the necessary stability in your legs, but you breathe and shiver as you come down from your high about the same time Johnny is getting to his feet and whirling you around to face the wall. 

There’s little fanfare as he lines himself up and sinks home into you. For once he seems to acknowledge that other people could hear the two of you if you’re not quiet, his hand clamping over your own to help silence you. 

“That’s a good lass,” he groans low in a way that sends jolts straight to your pussy. “Be a good girl an' take it,” he instructs, like there’s anything else to do other than to be pliant and good. 

Like some cruel twist of fate, the knowledge that you need to be quiet just makes it all the harder to keep things down. Another knot of pleasure coils in your gut, clamping down and twisting tighter the more you think about getting caught. 

Johnny’s low grunts and curses don’t travel as well as your pitched, breathy little ah ah ahs that are timed perfectly with his cock burying itself inside of you. God- leave it to the sniper to have perfect aim, hitting that spot in you that makes your eyes cross and your knees buckle over and over and over again. 

“Missed ye so damn much,” Johnny huffs against the back of your neck. “Ye and this perfect fuckin' cunt. Had nothin' but ma hand and imagination for almost a month.”

You garble out something against your palm vaguely in the realm of Johnny I’m gonna cum again. Your reward is one of his hands dropping between your thighs.

“Fuckin' do it, then,” he goads as you gasp and wriggle in his hold, trying desperately to breathe through the orgasm threatening to overwhelm you as your pleasure starts to peak. 

He shouldn’t be surprised, really, when the only thing you can do at that point is buck against his hand and squeal. 

It’s taking all you have to keep your legs under you as your second orgasm washes over you. Johnny’s frantic circles around your clit get audibly wetter as you squirt, soaking his hand, the wall, and your thighs.

Johnny knows the routine, easing off of your clit while his pelvis claps against your ass. Knows that the sensitive little bundle of nerves needs a break from the direct stimulation, but you’re fine with him chasing his own end and getting his.

His hand slips from your mouth to a comfortable hold on your neck- not choking, but firmly in hand. 

“Fuck, Johnny” you groan lowly, voice now uncovered by either of your hands.

The feral grunt that escapes him as he thrusts against the plush of your ass keeps the embers of your pleasure rolling. Content in the sensation of him using your body to get his own pleasure, a well earned reward as you lean against the wall loose-limbed and compliant. 

“Want you to cum in me, Johnny,” you plead ever so sweetly to him, and that’s what does it. 

Your body stiffens at the sensation of his teeth digging into the meat of your shoulder, yelping in shock as you realize he’s biting you as he crosses the finish line.

Your arm twists so you can bury your fingers in his hair, “Johnny- fucking- teeth!”, yanking sharply to make him let go.

The ass is using you to muffle his own grunts of pleasure, his teeth loosening their grip on you about the same time as his hips stop canting against yours.

Pleasure is still the overarching sensation coursing through your veins. You’re tired, content with your climaxes and the knowledge the love of your life is safe and back home relatively unscathed. Even if there’s now a perfect imprint of his teeth in your skin.

The haze of the moment is lifted when you hear a high pitched giggle outside. Oh mother fucker-

“Looks like someone had the same idea we did,” you don’t recognize the voice, but do feel Johnny’s hands grabbing at you to haul your clothes back into place with a muffled “Shit”.

“I know another spot, come on,” the other voice is hushed, their footfalls leading away. 

Thank God you don’t recognize who they are, and can only assume likewise they don’t recognize you. 

Johnny doesn’t dress himself until he’s satisfied you’re put back in order- dick out of his trousers the whole time, just hanging until you’re situated and only then does he tuck himself back in..

“We should head back before someone walks in here,” you caution, aware that while you’re both clothed that you’re not exactly out of the woods for getting caught just yet.

Johnny grabs you, turning you to face him before he crowds your body with his own. “Come here,” he instructs and pulls you to him, kissing and groping at you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t keep a hold on you. “Just another minute,” he pleads. You can’t possibly tell him no. 

You kiss him back, happy to have him home and whole and safe in your arms. 

It’s an odd sensation, living in a moment that you just know is going to be forever burned into your memory.

Not even an hour ago, this closet was just a door you’d pass by without a single thought given to it. Now every time you pass by it, or think back on your time at this base, you’ll remember this moment rather fondly.

[monstersinthecosmos]

kacy i wanna know how much of a perv you think daniel is LOL so much fic centers on armand dragging him through an experience *armand* wants. so like what's the ratio of daniel being a freak in his nature (and knowing this about himself) vs armand nurturing this trait into him?

My friend, I’m so glad you asked.

THE THING IS IVE GIVEN THIS A LOT OF THOUGHT and in some ways it’s like, what all of my Devil’s Minion fics are about LOL. And yet! I don’t have a simple answer to this question, the way real questions of nature vs nurture are complicated in the real world in real people!

But let me sketch out a framework of the way I’ve questioned this, and everyone might come to different conclusions and that’s the fun of fandom, because there can exist several thousand versions of Daniel based on the same text! AND I KNOW YOU KNOW THIS STUFF, I HOPE IT DOESN’T COME OFF AS MANSPLAINING LMAO but I’m excited to talk about this topic. 

Here’s what we know unequivocally from the text:

Daniel is 20 years old in IWTV.

That’s it, that’s the whole list.

And here’s some fanon that people often try to extrapolate from the text: 

💦 That he met Louis at a gay bar. UNCONFIRMED, but I think it’s likely? In the short story the bar is named the Pink Baby, I think that might be a gay bar or a dick reference idk lol. 

💦 Whether or not the Pink Baby was a gay bar, he and Louis essentially cruised each other and left the bar together! Daniel has the excuse that he’s hunting for interviews for his job, Louis has the excuse that he’s an apex predator who preys on people, but ? Take this wherever you need to. (Also blah blah Ricean biting=sex symbolisms.)

💦 Was Daniel bisexual outside of the assumption that most of the VC characters are bisexual/omnisexual? The only clue we get is that when he and Armand practice voyeurism, he hooks up with men and women. There’s a lot of interesting information packed into the voyeurism paragraph, like this line: Yet he lay empty afterwards, staring at Armand, resentful, cold. and I’ve seen the “resentful, cold” comment dissected many times in fandom. Is it the general resentment of their whole relationship? Is it because he wants to fuck Armand and not randos? Is it because he only wants the Blood? Does he not consent to being used like a zoo animal? Is he gay and doesn’t want to fuck women? Is he straight (minus the orientation-defying vampire attraction) and doesn’t want to fuck men? I’ve seen all kinds of takes on this LOL. But still, no real definitive answer about his orientation in the text.

💦 What did the “roaming the bars of the world” comment mean? Sometimes I read Anne Rice’s language as being kinda lofty and exaggerated but was he ACTUALLY traveling the WHOLE WORLD or is he hyping up that he trolled bars in the Bay Area? Is he FROM the Bay Area or was it a stop in his travels? He worked for a radio station (not in the book, but mentioned in the short story + The Vampire Companion and The Alphabettery) so did he live here, even if he traveled a lot? Was he wealthy before vampires if he was traveling this much, if you think he was a traveler?

AND AFTER ALL THAT, here’s some extra questions where Daniel is FREE REAL ESTATE that every fan has the freedom to make the fuck up:

💦 How much sexual experience did he have at 20? Do we assume that by default as an Anne Rice character he probably had ample teenage sexual experiences, and if he did, is there a quality over quantity aspect to consider? Is the sex we have as teenagers like, all that to write home about LMAO. Do we really understand kinks yet, or do we need to grow up and gain some perspective first? 

💦 As an Anne Rice character, by default, do we assume he & everything else is sexually charged LOL, are the interviews and cruising and taking people home a code for bringing partners home? What percentage of his interviews were also hookups?  

💦 When we talk about nature vs nurture for kinkiness, how micro and macro is this? As a fellow Off the Cuffs fan I know you understand the “radioactive spider bite into kink” concept, and some kinks are so specific to our experiences. But BEING KINKY in itself IS nature, isn’t it? I’ve read some sex & kink theory that kink is (psychologically) more like an innate orientation. IE: in the way you can be straight or gay, some people are also by default turned on by being smacked or by whatever paraphilia. Whatever that thing is, the way it takes shape, is the nurture half. But like, many people can have the same experience and 99% of them don’t develop a paraphilia right? So I think that capability exists in kinky folks at all times, especially when so many of the radioactive spider bites are things that people discover in childhood. ANYWAY I RANTED but I say that to say; DANIEL MOLLOY IS A MONSTERFUCKER, IWTV IS THE PROOF THAT HE IS A MONSTERFUCKER. IT WAS THERE THE WHOLE TIME. 

So I bring up all those questions to encourage everyone to make up their own story with this, but I’ll tell you where I personally landed and how I approach it in my fics!!!

The Daniel in MY OWN fics is 20, single child, estranged from his parents, dropped out of college because he didn’t have ADHD support and was struggling, bisexual and promiscuous! I wonder if he went through that like college freshman thing where he got out of his parents house for the first time and partied a little too hard because he COULD! I like to read “bars of the world” as an exaggeration, I like to think he was a normal guy NOT globe hopping, sticking to the Bay Area, maybe he was out there for college, and guess what! There’s a thriving gay liberation culture there, so he finds some safe spaces to experiment with that! 

However, I think the text leaves space to think he didn’t have a lot of close friends, or wasn’t close with his family, due to the way that he simply ✨fucks off ✨ after IWTV. NOW, that’s just me! Because there’s potential here for a TRAGEDY of people looking for him or grieving him! But idk I just like thinking that he was already on the outs and the interview pushed him over the edge.

So I ask like, does the 20 year old have a ton of kink experience? Is he good at sex? WHAT DOES RESENTFUL, COLD MEAN? Was he celibate during the chase years? Are the voyeurism sessions the first time he’s had sex since his old life? Even if he had random hookups during the chase years, was this qualitatively good sex? Can you truly get into good BDSM on a hookup or do you need a trusted partner? (This is subjective, idk, but!) 

Also, how much kink is theoretical and private (to masturbate to) vs stuff you actually try? Especially if we believe that kink is nature, someone isn’t less kinky if they’re celibate, the way someone isn’t less gay if they’re celibate, or even a virgin. As Daniel becomes more and more obsessed with vampires, and with Armand, does it take over how he jerks off? Does he think about getting bitten? HE LIKES SNUGGLING WITH DEAD THINGS.

So like, there IS an element of Daniel being the unwilling witness of Armand’s rapidly shifting hyperfixations, and it’s natural that fandom pervs would extend that to sex acts and kinks. I LOVE IT, yes! It makes sense. 

But when you say like, which one of them is in charge, I wonder if it’s relevant if we assume Daniel enjoys it. (Does he? Would he? Resentful, cold?)

Here’s some points that come to mind when I imagine it as purely Armand’s doing:

💦 People sometimes misunderstand BDSM dynamics when it comes to power and control, because BDSM is a consensual fantasy between two adults. The sub is just as in control, because they allow it. In that sense: Do we believe Armand respects Daniel’s consent? Would he force Daniel to participate if he wasn’t enjoying himself? 

🩸 (How much can we compare this to Venice and how Armand was prepared for vampirism? I’m putting this in parentheses bc I’m putting a pin in this one, I CANNOT ADD A SUB-ESSAY INTO THIS POST ABOUT COMPARING VENICE TO DEVILS MINION but thinking of this too. Returning to the under-negotiated kink in Venice and how much is diegetic to the text, how does experiencing a spectrum of sexuality benefit someone’s last years alive ((sub-parentheses: does Armand flip-flop on turning Daniel as much as Marius did with Armand, does Armand subliminally know he’ll turn Daniel one day, does he go through these experiences as a precursor to turning Daniel eventually?)) are these experiences more for Armand to process the way he was groomed for asexual immortality vs being purely selfless and for Daniel’s benefit?)

💦 Armand uses Daniel as his usher into the modern age, and is it fair to assume he could sense Daniel’s kinkiness and knew that this was the person for him? 

💦 How dubious is Daniel’s consent here? How addicted to Armand’s Blood is he by the time they start fucking around? Is he already within the throes of Ricean Omnisexuality where he’s down for whatever? Does the Blood influence this as well? Is there a secret subliminal violence creeping into your body when you’ve been drinking it again and again? What about less violent kinks, like your feederism fic? Does the Blood encourage all types of excess and consumption??? 

But if DANIEL is the driving force here, I still must consider:

💦 He meets Armand and his life essentially ends when he’s 20 years old. Was he really self-aware of his kinks? Did he know himself very well sexually yet? 

💦 While exploring kinks can be mutually beneficial by sating Armand’s need for WEIRD HUMAN STUFF, maybe it IS something Daniel wants. It’s something he’s missing out on, because he checked out of regular human life when he was 20. Like, everyone’s different, so, I’m not saying that people can’t be sexually articulate at 20, but I know I fucking wasn’t! And I personally never fucked anyone that age who was good at it LMAO. So like how old would Daniel have been before he experimented enough to really know what he liked, and how much of him getting to know his sexuality involved Armand during the next decade?

💦 And this ties into Armand being his sugar daddy! That’s canon! Armand is his sugar daddy! If Daniel, at 28 years old, starts lamenting “I wish I’d gotten the chance to try watersports when I still had a normal life :( “ wouldn’t Armand have arranged that for him? 

🩸 (Again let’s talk about Venice and what did Armand learn there about being the vampire lover, how much does he process and repeat on Daniel, and for whose benefit?)

💦 If Daniel is an innately kinky person, and realizes as he’s approaching 30 that he never really got to explore it properly, wouldn’t Armand usher him through that experience? Even if Armand didn’t plan to turn him, I wonder if he saw the window of Daniel’s mortal experience closing, maybe he worried that this is the type of thing people need to be wild about while they’re still so young. And outside of stigmatizing Daniel's age, it's also about how he was becoming less and less healthy, dying of alcoholism at 32, so there was a small window here for them to have sex adventures.

So basically, I’m saying that the nature half feels very much like Daniel being a monsterfucker, the nurture half is the actual experiences he got to have. And I don’t think he’d be in this situation in the first place if he wasn’t a bit of a monsterfucker, and wasn't a innately into danger and pain. Like, we don’t get a TON of examples but Gretchen and Babette didn’t try to fuck vampires! We know that vampires give humans the heebie jeebies! What kind of sick fuck is into that?!?!?!? 

I don’t really have one single answer here. When it comes to the large library of kinks I think either of them can be blamed, and I also think it 100% makes sense to use Armand as a vehicle to write fic about them as if they’re another collection of human oddities for him to explore. But even using Armand’s weird bullshit to process that doesn’t mean it’s not mutually beneficial, and I think it gets into a fuzzier area that’s up to the writer when it comes to their take on the relationship, how dubious the consent is, how much do they actually like each other and get along? Can it be mutually beneficial in the end even if one person is driving? (see: the conversation about the second whipping scene in TVA and how it works out in the end.) Is it something they have fun agreeing to and negotiating in advance? 

I can totally see how someone might write this as a fun thing that they talk about beforehand as easily as it could be Armand forcing mystery adventure on Daniel and suddenly he’s tied up in some shitty apartment in Hells Kitchen with some man pissing on him, and did he ever even reveal this kink to Armand or did Armand pull it out of his head? 

The ship dynamic is so fucked up and coercive and resentful and toxic, even though there is real love here, so there’s this whole spectrum to use when you build your fanworks and headcanons!!!!!!! AND LIKE

IF IT’S COERCIVE AND FUCKED UP, DOES IT DRIVE THEM FURTHER APART OR BRING THEM CLOSER TOGETHER? IS DANIEL RESENTFUL AND COLD AND DOES THIS CAUSE FIGHTS? IS THIS A WAY FOR THEM TO PROCESS SOME OF THEIR COLDNESS AND RESENTMENT BECAUSE THEY AREN’T GOOD COMMUNICATORS? DO THEY DO BETTER AFTER THESE SESSIONS AND FEEL CLOSER BECAUSE THEY BROKE THROUGH SOMETHING NEITHER OF THEM KNEW HOW TO SAY?

Gosh idk.

Anyway I apologized in the beginning for mansplaining but I also want to apologize for this non answer LMFAO. I hope it doesn’t feel like a cop-out to not have a real answer, it’s just that I think there is such a rich context with a MENAGERIE of possibility !!!!!!! 

[makethatelevenrings]

Angel By the Wing - Twenty-Nine

Just in case you weren't aware, this blog is unequivocally in support of the liberation of Palestine.

Series Masterlist (Mobile Masterlist)

“Mom, what the hell are you doing here?” Jennifer watched as her son carefully pulled away from the two people he had been wrapped around. He stumbled around the bar and tentatively hugged her. God, she remembered when Jake was a skinny stick of a boy. His physique was all Daniel, but his heart was purer than both her or that man.

“You called, Jacob. Of course I was going to come. I wanted to see what was going on.”

Jake glanced over his shoulder at the two people trying to look casual in the way they pretended to ignore them. The man, tall and broad shouldered, held a guarded expression in his gaze as he studied the Seresins. The woman next to him was a lot shyer than she had been before the boy’s arrival. One of her hands had drifted down to rest on her shirt-covered stomach and Jennifer was sharply reminded as to why she was here.

“I didn’t say anything about needing to come down here. I was planning on inviting you and Liz, yeah, but I just needed some time to get acclimated,” Jake explained. “I don’t have the guest room set up or food prepared. I didn’t even take time off work bu-”

Jennifer cut him off. “I have an AirBnB rented for a month.”

“What? A month? Mom, I-”

“You call me and tell me that you knocked a girl up but it’s fine, you three are going to raise the baby together. Jacob, I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone until now, not to mention two people. Forgive me for being a little concerned that this was a rushed decision.”

Jake shut his mouth, his jaw clenching tightly. He inhaled deeply and looked over her head at the crowd of people that were starting to fill up the room.

“You didn’t need to come all the way here and uproot your life. We’re fine. The three of us are figuring it out together.”

“Figuring it out? Jake, this is a baby. Not an Ikea dresser, for God’s sake!”

Jake’s gaze darted over to the bartender once more and he softened at the look on her face. Something akin to determination mixed with worry seeped into the green eyes the same shade as hers.

“Let me drive you to your place, Mom. We can talk more there.”

Jennifer had figured that’s what he would offer, which is precisely why she ordered her Uber to drop her off at the bar he had so affectionately told her was the place he met the woman he knocked up. 

God, this was a fucking mess.

She never expected to be a grandmother, to be honest. Liz was entirely focused on her career as an attorney and, despite not telling her mother yet, seemed to prefer partners of the same sex. Jennifer couldn’t care less about who her daughter was sleeping with, as long as she was safe and happy. Jacob, on the other hand, had made it apparent that he wasn’t the type to have a family. She knew that both of her kids batted for the other team in some way since they were younger, even if Daniel was a shitbag homophobe. But Jake never once brought anyone home to meet her. He never took a girl to more than one dance or talked about a guy more than once to her. He was a one and done kind of guy.

So when Jake called her and said he knocked a girl up that he’s only known for a few months, she booked the first flight out to San Diego. Because that did not sound like her son at all.

Jake stepped away from her to address the two people still watching them. He said something quietly enough that Jennifer couldn’t hear, but then raised his voice.

“I’ll be home before you two so I can make sure someone goes to bed on time,” he said, his voice lighter than it had been the entire time he had spoken to Jennifer. A small smile grew on the bartender’s face and she rolled her eyes.

“It’s not my fault that Sweet Pea likes QVC,” she retorted.

“Yeah, well, Sweet Pea also needs to let her momma get some sleep,” Jake said. He nodded at the man and then grabbed Jennifer’s suitcases and silently led the way towards the parking lot.

Aside from the address she gave him and the quiet voice of the navigation system, the drive was silent. Jennifer took that as a chance to both look around at San Diego and think about her own life.

In the small Texas town she grew up in, it was expected that you served the Lord, married young, and had babies. Daniel was the quintessential All-American guy. He was a church-going quarterback who helped old ladies cross the street and made Jennifer feel like the luckiest girl in all the world because he chose her. She had dreams of leaving that small town, but getting pregnant during her senior year of high school quashed any plans she had of moving to a big city. Instead, she and Daniel had a shotgun wedding and a hasty life thrown together. By the time she realized that he was a monster, Jennifer had a baby in a town where it was expected that you grin and bear it for the children.

Fuck that. Fuck all of that.

Jennifer Seresin had made a lot of choices in her life. Some good, many bad, but all of them couldn’t top her decision to raise her two children with the kindest of hearts. Elizabeth and Jake were the lights of her life, especially through the dark times. Jake had been their saving grace in getting away from that shitbag ex-husband of hers. But he shouldn’t have had to.

The guilt of her failure ate at her. She should have left Daniel years earlier. She should have never let her kids feel their father’s anger. She should have done a million things to make their lives better and yet she failed them over and over. 

She would not let Jake make the same mistakes she did.

Your feet ached as you climbed the few steps up to the front porch. The world was winding down thanks to the late hour, but the soft glow emanating from inside the house let you know that at least one of your boys was still awake.

The door creaked slightly on its hinges and you made a mental note to have Jake fix that one day. Maybe you could convince the boys to do projects around the house while shirtless. It would be your own personal porno.

“Hey,” you greeted Jake quietly. He tore his gaze away from the baseball game that was clearly a rerun and looked at you. A small smile graced his handsome face, but you could see the underlying tension that rested there. You set your purse down and toed off your shoes before winding around the couch to settle in beside him.

“Roo asleep?” you asked. He nodded and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. His whole body held taut as a bowstring and you wished you had some magic wand that would make him relax. 

“How was work?” It was a clear deflection and the two of you knew it. You craned your head up so you could see his face better and sighed.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” you said. It was more of a demand than a question, but you softened your voice to not make him anymore skittish. Jake released a heavy sigh and then shrugged.

“Roo and I kinda got into it when he got home. He said I dumped this on you two but I didn’t even know she was coming.”

“I know that. And he knows that. He’s just thrown off kilter. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t surprised too.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no apologies. She seems nice, by the way.”

Jake huffed out a laugh. “When she’s not interrogating you, maybe.”

You rubbed your nose along the length of his jaw and pressed a delicate kiss to his pulse. Something warm and bright bloomed in his chest and he tugged you closer to him. Jake inhaled the sweet scent of you, some odd mixture of beer, flowers, and sea salt. Coupled with the heady taste of Rooster–oil, sweat, and sun–that soaked into the townhome, Jake found himself sinking into you.

“C’mon Tex. Let’s go to bed before you fall asleep on the couch,” you teased.

“You’re one to talk,” he grumbled. You giggled and shifted so you were straddling his hips, arms lacing over his shoulders and clasping around his neck. He fumbled for the remote and somehow turned off the TV before he slid an arm under your butt and hauled the both of you off the couch. Your grip tightened just slightly, but you trusted that he wouldn’t drop you.

Jake remembers the night he met you. You and your bright eyes, devilish smirk, and sharp tongue. He had his fair share of people that he welcomed into his bed, but there was something about you that captivated him. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t take his shit, much like another man he had known years earlier.

Maybe it was the way you loved the taste of his pancakes, his music, and his kisses.

You shushed him as he got closer to the bedroom and he gently set you down so you could stumble in and blindly search for the dresser to steal some of their clothes. Jake slipped away to check the locks and windows before he returned to find you snuggled in the middle, one of Rooster’s arms thrown around your waist.

“You didn’t waste any time, did you, angel?” he whispered. That traitorous part of his mind let his mother’s words filter in. What happens if the baby isn’t his? What happens if the baby isn’t his and you two decide you don’t need him? That you don’t want him? Can he handle that? Can he handle this dream being shattered?

“Why don’t you shut up, strip, and get in here too?” Rooster’s tired voice filled the darkened bedroom and you hid your smile against the pillow before you reached out for Jake. The blond tugged off his shirt and threw his shorts somewhere in the direction of the closet before he climbed into bed. You threw your arm over his neck and settled your face against his chest. Rooster’s fingers brushed over Jake’s bicep and he welcomed the touch.

He couldn’t fall asleep for a long time.

Tag List:

@mizzzpink@xoxabs88xox@dreaminglandsworld@khaylin27@loveforaugust@atarmychick007@itsmytimetoodream@krismdavis@startrekfangirl@hangmandruigandmav@lunamoonbby@startrekfangirl2233@sihtricswife@jstarr86@drakelover78@abaker74@emma8895eb @hardballoonlove

[bunnakit]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (you are here)

Wooyoung nearly sobbed at the intense wave of pleasure that washed over him, body writhing in the ebbing tide. His voice choked out of him, eliciting a deep and fond chuckle from above. He hated how warm San’s laugh was for how very cruel he was being. 

“Sannie please for the love of God move.” He begged, trying to kick out one of his legs only to have it pinned to the lumpy mattress, leaving Wooyoung reluctantly spread open. His cock leaked against his stomach and he couldn't help but think ‘Me too, buddy.’ 

San leaned down, pressing their lips together with lazy, lingering kisses. He was such a juxtaposition of unwavering strength and endless tenderness. He knew Choi San was one of a kind and he was so lucky to have met him that fateful rainy night. He’d never find anyone like him again. 

“Why don't you ask nicely?” San smirked against his jaw and he couldn't help but roll his eyes. 

“San if you don't fucking move I’m going to book the biggest, meanest bastard for your next fi-ah!” Breath swept into his lungs in a harsh gasp, expelled in a low and pathetic whine. It wasn't that San was the biggest he’d ever slept with - he was average, maybe above - it was that every movement was done with so much intent. He rolled his hips, gave teasing touches, and panted crude compliments all for nothing more than the satisfaction of his lover. 

It had been a night a lot like this, blowing off steam from an unsatisfying fight that San felt he won too quickly, when the revelation had struck Wooyoung. He had watched San then as he did now, the concentrated furrow of his brow, the clench of his jaw to stave off his own orgasm until he knew his lover was unequivocally satisfied. All of it came to the same conclusion Wooyoung drew in the current moment; He was unbearably in love with Choi San. 

“Why are you crying, jagi?” San’s movements stilled as he lifted his calloused palm, cupping his cheek gently.

Wooyoung blinked slowly, unaware of when the tears had begun to streak down his face but he could feel them carving tracks backwards. He kept his gaze on San, opening his mouth to speak but a cold tear dipped uncomfortably into his ear. He blinked and when he opened his eyes he welcomed a new cresting tide of tears. 

He was back here, in the almost clinical bedroom in the corner of a house that had never felt like home. His eyes burned with tears and he knew he’d been crying for much longer than the brief snippet in his dream. He stumbled to his feet and tread into the bathroom, grimacing at the image staring back at him in the mirror. His long hair was a mess, greasy and in disarray, and his eyes were nearly swollen with how puffy they were. 

Wooyoung ducked his head, splashing icy water on his face several times. He was so tired of crying, so fucking tired of it, and yet he couldn't stop. Every single morning he woke up and pressed a cold compress to his eyelids until he resembled something close to human again. He ignored that step today, turning off the sink just to turn on the shower. 

He wanted to wallow, to stay in bed all day and cry himself to sleep again, to rot in his silk sheets on his stupidly expensive mattress. He craved a lumpy mattress permeated in the smell of cologne, sweat, sex, and San. It was so tempting to fall back under the covers and shut out the world but he knew, as much as he hated it, that San would never want to see him like this. And somehow that was enough. 

Wooyoung finished his shower quickly, wrapping a towel around his waist and going through his skin care routine that had way more steps than even made sense. He finished rubbing in his moisturizer before he opened the drawer beside him. Multiple watches in a variety of styles lined the inside, save for a vacant spot in the very center. 

His heart dropped through his feet, thrashing and writhing somewhere on his heated bathroom floor. 

Where is it? 

I put it here, didn't I?

My nightstand- Not here. 

The dresser-

No, no, no, nononono- Where is it?! 

His breath came in a rapid staccato, unsustainable and painful. He didn't really care if he ever breathed again, not if he’d truly lost Sannie’s watch. He needed it, needed to feel close to him in the only way he was allowed now. 

“Where is it?” He gasped, black spots dancing at the edge of his vision just before he heard a door open in the main section of his apartment. He yanked on a pair of sweatpants left hanging over a bedpost before stumbling out into his living space. 

“Hyunsoo-ssi, have you seen my watch? The silver one with the big dial-”

“Oh, that atrocity.” He tsked and dread mixed with something else, something sticky and molten, bubbled in Wooyoung’s stomach. “I cleaned out all your old designs for this year’s collection,” He passed a judgemental eye to the sweats hanging off his hips. “Though it seems I might have missed some.” 

Again, Wooyoung didn't feel when the tears started. He could only feel the cold streaks left in their wake as his skin grew impossibly warm. His fingers curled into his palms, nails pressing indents into the soft flesh. 

“And where are they now?” He hissed through clenched teeth, eyes closed as those black dots appeared in his periphery again. He felt wound tight, a coiled spring ready to snap - or perhaps a leopard, crouched low in wait for one wrong move, one little -

“I threw them out. Don't worry, Wooyoung-ssi, this year's designs are much-” 

He hadn't made a decision to throw the salt lamp across the room. Wooyoung hadn't even been aware he was holding it until it left his fingertips, hurtling towards the wall with an impressive amount of speed. His nostrils flared as the drywall crumbled and shards of the salt block scattered around his floor. He opened his eyes, vision tinted red as his eyes locked on his father's assistant. 

Wooyoung hated himself for it, hated the way it reminded him of his childhood, but he took a sick thrill in the fear that washed over Hyunsoo’s face. Good. “Get out.” He croaked, voice hoarse with barely restrained screams. 

There was a spot on the rug in his father's office, a deep brown and an odd wobbly shape. Spilled coffee, his father had said, knocked over by one of his visiting business partners who Wooyoung could barely remember. He understood now what that stain really was. 

His mouth flooded with spit the moment Hyunsoo closed the door behind him and Wooyoung had only a moment to sprint to his kitchen sink, more grateful than ever for his open floor plan as he slid to a stop on the tile just in time to eject the contents of his stomach into the shiny silver basin. He’d barely eaten the night before, something his stomach hadn't thanked him for, but at least it was a benefit to him now as he had very little to offer up. Snot and tears spilled down the lower half of his face and he groaned, using the spray nozzle on his faucet to rinse both the sink and his face. 

Wooyoung slammed the tap to shut it off before sliding down to the floor, back pressed against the uncomfortable grooves of the cabinet behind him and knees tucked to his chest. He tucked his forehead against them, the moisture dripping from his hair soaking the knee of his sweats. One hand lifted, rubbing a slow circle over the left side of his chest. 

His last connection to San, gone with something as simple as a careless - or perhaps malicious - act of service. The hickeys had long faded from his sternum, the scent of San’s cologne no longer clung to the clothes he'd worn that night. The watch had been all he had left to prove that he had been lucky enough to have been known - been loved - by Choi San. 

Wooyoung felt the rhythmic thumping against his fingers, an undeniable sign that blood still pumped through his veins. His heart was there, it was still there, so why did his chest feel so hollow? He wanted to thrash, to wail, to make sure the world could hear the pain that scraped his insides raw. Instead, he cried silently, vacant gaze locked on the mangled hole in the wall, lamp cord dangling down to the floor. 

Crying had never gotten him anything but a scolding so he had learned a long time ago to keep silent. 

When Wooyoung looked at himself in the mirror again the next morning another grimace spread over his face but this time accompanied by a nauseating twist in his gut. He lifted his hand to brush through his hair, twisting his fingers around the too-short strands and tugging until he felt a light sting at his scalp. It looked as wrong as he felt but he had an image to maintain now - Father’s perfect puppet. 

The image nearly made him sick, not from an attractiveness standpoint, but rather he missed who he was before. He missed San carding his fingers through his hair as he sang to him softly, half drunk but full of love. He missed San gripping with his fingers close to Wooyoung’s scalp, tilting his head back to press open-mouthed kisses against his neck. He missed San rolling over onto his hair in the middle of the night, coaxing him back to sleep with hushed apologies. 

He had hoped it would feel cleansing but instead it felt like a final goodbye to the man he could have had and the man he could have become.

[catofoldstones]

The thing is I probably wouldn't hate Rhaegar as much as I do if he wasn't glorified by the fandom and to a lesser extent in the canon too. How do you expect me to read Elia being raped and killed, Aegon's skull being crushed and Rhaenys hiding under her father's bed only to be stabbed 50 times and not blame the man who was off galivanting with a teenage girl in his wife's home while abandoning his wife and children to his lunatic racist father!? In a war HE started!! The people responsible for their deaths were Gregor, Amory Lorch, Tywin, Aerys, and Robert yes but their protection was Rhaegar's responsibility. The very existence of Elia and her children ensures Rhaegar/Lyanna can never be anything positive, whether it was consensual or not. Because whatever his dynamic with Lyanna, his treatment of his wife and children stays the same. There is no need for confirmation that Lyanna was a victim to hate him, he is a piece of shit in either cases. [Not to mention here, his treatment of Lyanna is also highly problematic even if we go by it being consensual].

The very existence of Elia and her children ensures Rhaegar/Lyanna can never be anything positive, whether it was consensual or not. Because whatever his dynamic with Lyanna, his treatment of his wife and children stays the same.

YEP!

The problem with this fandom is that they will always find a woman to blame for a man’s mistakes. This becomes “Rhaegar was not wrong 🥺 why did Elia expect him to act like her husband when he was her husband. the marriage was arranged!!!🥺” as if till then no marriages had been arranged amongst Westerosi noblefolk with the expectation that the obligations and rights and duties that come with the marriage will be honoured by the both parties. Nope. That’s just not Westeros at all.

The moment you say Rhaegar was obligated to protect his wife and children because that’s his duty as a lord husband and lord father, people will jump on you claiming that you’re upholding these patriarchal, regressive standards. Don’t you know Elia should’ve girlbossed and picked up a sword and killed the Mountain to give the reader independent girl satisfaction? How dare she be a literary vehicle to show the systemic disenfranchisement of women, even women who come from powerful backgrounds, in a feudal society and draw attention to the fact that it it’s still happening to women all around the world. How dare she not be a girlboss wet dream to satisfy our own fixed ideas and to assuage our insecurities?

And then they do try and turn her into this girlboss who was a-okay with her husband going out and getting himself a girl to become a broodmare to get another child on because “that gives Elia agency”, which is so fucking racist and straight up misogynistic towards both Elia and Lyanna, i cannot even begin to tell you. Whatever Rhaegar’s dynamic was with Lyanna, whether he married her or not, can never be consensual because Lyanna was an impressionable 14 year old child who wanted some agency and reprieve from a suffocating, oppressive society and Rhaegar was an adult, married man with two children and a kingdom to take care of who kidnapped the said child by promising her said agency. What more words do I have to use now to that Rhaegar is unequivocally at fault here. He’s the executor of his children’s death, his wife’s rape and murder, the plunging of a kingdom into war, and his family’s tragedy for a generation at least. Rhaegar is. at. fault.

I genuinely don’t know how people take the blame from a man and throw it at the women he wronged. Oh wait, I do. It’s unchecked misogyny 🙄

[archivalofsins]

Purge March is just great all the way through! From beginning to end so let's go over it~

The way Amane has her own flag at the end-

The same symbol that we see on the balloon of the girl from her school- Whose dad tells on Amane to her mother. Before the actual cults symbol is highlighted again-

Possibly implying there's a cult for adults and children or a shift in ideologies. As the symbol of the cult we see throughout magic is the one with the double clouds and colors around it that is over the door of Amane's home-

And slapped on her backpack where we can see other stickers have been ripped off of it-

Then there's the way Amane lets the others go absolutely feral while still leading the charge calmly -

The way she uses an umbrella as a weapon after drowning in those rainy days.

Them hinting from the beginning it's an umbrella through the way the flags are held at the start and the point of the bottom of Amane's staff-

The blood on the scepter that can be seen while she's still making her way home-

The rainbow behind the grey balloons carrying over behind her as she walks home-

The subtle but manic expression of the more feral ones bleeding through externally, contrasting her more calm internal demeanor-

How all this perfectly follows up on the cheeky grin that Amane had when she brandished the wand in Magic,

As she uses the idea of supporting this cause for her own benefit. Making her a fake believer in a way. Something highlighted through the beginning lines of Purge March-

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! It’s the beginning of a most wonderful day- However, there are blasphemers and silent by-standers, who would have it otherwise. We must not give into them, they are the ones that should be judged with pure, unsullied body and soul, let us preach all that is true and right!"

Them going from being covered in shadow and beneath the balloons to ahead of them.

"I'll give back the judgement that you gave me."

How they visually show her putting that distorted image behind her-

Yet, allude to how it still impacts and supports her belief. Just now in a way where she has control.

The fact that Amane's very last straw was her mom killing that cat and the lyrics don't shy away from that-

"So nary a sound can be uttered a second time, I’ll crush your throat too."

The implications that she not just took out her mom but the people who snitched as well-

Especially telling considering we see that the staff has blood on it before she gets home. Plus, since it's raining if the umbrella had gotten bloody the rain could have washed it off as she was walking. Hence the very manic expression and the title Purge March. Since the march very well could have just ended at her mother.

Something again I would be fine with happening to mister I can tell your mom I saw you helping a cat on the street but can't pick up a phone and call child protective services when I see you walking around with bruises on your face-

"There are blasphemers and silent by-standers."

Fuck him too honestly.

(Star here; I wanted to mention how the cult's colours combined are connected to the concept of happiness and it being brought to you. They highlight this in a poster that seems to advertise themselves. If we take this as a visual shorthand for happiness in general, it's interesting that the colours only get shown combined (including with the confetti) when Amane has decided she's had enough and moves to commit her murder.)

"I don’t need it anymore, if you’re going to break your vow. Here and now, it’s my turn to tear you apart- So there is no second time, I’ll give back the judgment that you gave to me." - "“UNDER” The magic is in believing there is no righteousness in broken promises."- "A good girl that keeps a promise is like, mwah!"

Then there's the song itself-

"The “It can’t be helped”, from the scum that can’t be helped. That makes them doubtlessly, clearly, absolutely, unequivocally, beyond any doubt, categorically, emphatically, GUILTY."

"It can't be helped" it's the only way you'll learn after all.

"After you cry, repent, and kneel, it’s now your turn to say that hopeless “I’m sorry”."

It's the vindication and euphoria that I feel can only be felt by those who grew up with abusive parents for me that resounding- "Yes!" feeling that seeing this,

accompanied by this line brings-

"You’re sorry? I don’t care! Please, go ahead and die already. Remember MY cries, MY repents, MY words of “I’m sorry” that I said to you?"

That really gets to me specifically. That really makes me go actually yeah, sure murder is objectively bad. However, in this case do I find it morally reprehensible...? No, fuck this lady she kills cats and beats children. Like come on now this isn't hard. She probably killed what two people a guy that ignores blatant child abuse and a woman who once again kills cats and beats children.

I don't think Amane should be sentenced to torture because she gave two terrible people express passes to hell. That's just silly- Plus for me it's always been about how I feel about each individual prisoners' crimes first and foremost. I don't particularly care how safe these prisoners are or aren't because this isn't about that and it's something I have no control over. There are just too many factors to properly deduce what will happen during the intermission outside of what they've alluded to already.

I'll only have a clear idea of what may happen next when Kotoko comes around. If she does the same thing, she did during her first interrogation and updates us on how the prisoners are handling their verdicts, that is.

For now, though- I'm going to vote how I want as usual. Simply put if childcare services were better, and she wasn't in a community of bootlicking rats this lady wouldn't have gotten away with this for so long-

Sad that Amane had to take matters into her own hands but at least this woman is fucking gone. So, she won't be going back to that cult environment we see in Magic, she'll simply go back and hopefully be with her dad. Who she wishes to be with already. But what if she makes her own cult?

I don't give a fuck. Her cult isn't going to be the kills cats and beats children cult now, is it? She's actively trying to be better than her parents and has displayed her desire to be so numerous times. I don't know this is just an easy one for me. Glad to see that this aspect was handled incredibly well and I'm more excited for Double now as a result!

So, a great start to the day overall.

[widowshill]

A song you’d put on a playlist for a character you love!

MUSIC ASKS.

"A Well Respected Man," The Kinks, 1965. the satirical angle of this song works really well for Roger — who, notoriously, does make his regular trips to the office only to fuck around and do absolutely nothing there — as a character who is both given respect in his community as one of the Collinses of Collinsport and yet sneered at for being unequivocally the least of the them. The Kinks' discography pokes the same kinds of holes in the image of the upper class bourgeois as Dark Shadows, and no one embodies the selfish, ridiculous, incapable rich man who only has his position because of his family's efforts before him quite like Roger Collins.

this verse is a great one:

And he likes his own backyard And he likes his fags the best 'Cause he's better than the rest And his own sweat smells the best And he hopes to grab his father's loot When pater passes on

which captures the mien of Roger's character from two sides. there is the rancorous self-absorption — the belief that Collinwood is the nonpareil of domestic civilization, at least in Collinsport; that he and all he owns are god's gift to Collinsport-kind (you could substitute liquor for fags, or you could use it as a double entendre and Americanize the phrase); that his relationship to Jamison is purely one of greed — not entirely unfairly, given that Roger immediately blew his inheritance upon his father's death and auctioned off his shares to generate more.

But the tone of the song undercuts the one-dimensional view of the protagonist (and of Roger), not only in pointing out his vanity and egomania, which is obvious, but in revealing deeper failings and weaknesses in the worldview. Roger simultaneously reveres Collinwood, his backyard, as the crowning jewel of his family's success, as his family home, and yet reviles it as mausoleum and prison — backyard invoking the image of something enclosed, private and perfect, but ultimately restrictive. he may enjoy the best of all possible vices — upscale, expensive brandy, or enviable partners in the other interpretation — but they remain vices; he is not above common humanity — the fishermen and cannery workers whose labor provides for his lifestyle — but sweats the same as them. The use of pater is particularly cutting in describing his relationship to Jamsion because of the Latin connotation. The death of his father left Roger the voids not only of father to son, but paterfamilias in Collinwood and Iuppiter in Collinsport at large. All of which the subject in the song is clearly incapable of filling and in Dark Shadows falls to Elizabeth instead: heading the Collins family, running the town and the business, and raising Roger's son.

I also have to point out the last verse before the final chorus:

He adores the girl next door 'Cause he's dying to get at her But his mother knows the best about The matrimonial stakes

In the present day, the girl next door at whom he's dying to get is obviously Vicki, only next door down the hallway rather than the street — and the matrimonial stakes being that he forgets, he's already married, and Vicki would like to get married someday and not have her virtue compromised for that future. Liz (as mother-figure) impresses this on him at the very beginning when she catches him trying to get into her room, and much later on Roger puts his personal feelings and jealousies towards Vicki and her fiancés aside in order to see that Vicki has the best chance at marital happiness (and part of the adoration absolutely stems from the fact that he can't get at her — that Vicki is in another class virtuously and socioeconomically and thus completely unattainable).

but you could just as well apply this verse to before the series begins when he marries Laura ten years prior, a captain's daughter who Elizabeth regards as a golddigger, instead of marrying apropos to his station — or being besotted by Miss Murdoch and her fisherman fiancé both, neither of which meet the matrimonial stakes for the heir to the Collins fortune (concerning class and money as well as producing a well-bred heir to continue the Collins name ... though in a funny twist of fate Burke does give him a son!)

Roger is of course part of a proud Collins family tradition of being more interested in the servants than his social peers or his wife — and this gets a mention by the Kinks as well, with his father pulls the maid while his mother passes looks, as well as bills at every suave young man. which is to say that his inheritance is as much the money and the house and the position as well as all the accompanying nuclear ills, key thesis of "A Well Respected Man" and Dark Shadows, alike!

[carefulfears]

what do you consider the heart of californication? like really carries through the series & makes it compelling

thank you for this question, i really love it. to me, it's a number of things, starting with that the show cares deeply about hank and takes him seriously in a way that the culture doesn't. in a way, yes, he's their dog and pony show with the funny one-liners and the salacious pull. but the arc of the series is unequivocally aligned with him and his desires and his needs and his values.

hank wants to be with his family, wants to be better for them, wants to not let them down- and the show needs him to fail at all of those things. for the dog and pony of it all, for their viewership and for their thesis and for the food in their mouths, but it simultaneously feels bad that he is failing. simultaneously knows that this isn't what he wants, and that it's sad. and it can be as simple as a dream sequence or a look or a quiet final scene, but every single episode is ultimately going to remind you that everything you're laughing at is a loss.

which, like i said at the top, speaks to a level of respect that the show had for the character that is just gone in discussions of the series. they take the time to recognize that he is missing something. he is losing something and he is without everything that means anything to him, this is the cost. equally important, duchovny respects that character and understands the same.

i was listening to an interview last night (trish you heard this) where he was speaking with some podcast dudebros and one of the hosts said that he always wanted to be just like hank moody, and then he made some "bad decisions" and got there, and he doesn't like it. and duchovny said that every time people come up to him saying "i'm just like hank moody," he says "i'm sorry."

men watch and they want to be just like hank moody and women watch and they want to fuck hank moody so bad, and all of you miss what the source comprehends: that it's an irreparable deficit.

other than that, i feel like what roots that show is that it really isn't all that cynical. not in the way that it could be. and the show believes in hank.

there is a lot of kindness and hope (often false hope) that runs underneath most every relationship and interaction and dynamic in the series and i really really appreciate that about it. it's like in the pilot when hank is being mean and he wants marcy to yell at him and she just says "go home, honey. sleep it off. tomorrow's another day."

there's always a little bit of understanding and grace amongst the crazies and i think there's something really special about that

[ssaalexblake]

So, liked you talking about Orphan 55 and finding a new interpretation to it! Are there any other Chibnall-era stories that you feel people really don't get?

On the whole? the whole era seems to sail over peoples heads imo, but that's the salt talking. Okay, it's not Only salt talking, i think S12 particularly is very interconnected in its themes the whole way through and when people miss one thing they tend to not see a bunch of others. But still.

On an episodic level, I think Arachnids in the UK sailed way way way over peoples heads in a massive way, not necessarily in a they didn't get it way, but more of a 'didn't bother to look at it' kind of thing bc there are giant spiders and a tr/ump stand in making a lot of noise, not to mention Najia's 'are you dating' riff distracting a different subset of people. I admit that all of the above was very distracting, especially if you're arachnophobic.

But yeah, a rich guy with no morals is out to make a fast buck. He picks Sheffield of all places to do this, working class, known for it. On the way to making a fast buck he cuts corners and forgive me, i've not watched it in a long time and i may be slightly off on some of the specifics, but the illegal/irresponsible disposal of waste by some rich guy, in a place where working class people live in an effort to make it more ~fancy to attract richer customers (like, i assume he was after that?), causes an environmental disaster to the local ecosystem by producing harmful gasses and litter is everywhere (hence Yaz's dad convinced there's a conspiracy of some kind), this in turn affects local fauna to the point something Weird happens to them (in this case, they get really really big) and the next domino in this long list of cause and effect, is that this effects the people living in said city because the now massive huge spiders are a danger to people and kill them.

Rich people fucking up the lives of the working class by destroying the environment to line their own pockets. Rich people harming wildlife to line their own pockets causing environmental disaster that in turn fucks over the working class.

it's almost like, in real life, the people doing the real harm and damage to the environment are the rich monsters content to do whatever they can for that new yacht no matter the environmental disaster it causes for us average joes.

They uh, were going somewhere with that one! And it's one of the least mentioned ones i think? When people talk about episodes with messages about protecting the environment/the destruction of it, Orphan 55 and Praxeus tend to be the only ones mentioned, but they're not alone. Orphan 55 and Arachnids live specifically at the intersection of capitalism VS environmental protection and how these two things Cannot coexist. Praxeus takes more of a dig at a different area.

I think War of the Sontarans flies frequently over peoples heads for it's themes of contextual morality in war. The show does not tie its opinions on violence up with a neat bow. We have two lead characters in two vastly different times (Dan & 13), one is fighting tooth and nail to stop some general starting a pointless ego driven fight and getting people killed, the general is unequivocally portrayed as awful. Meanwhile, Dan is in present day Liverpool fighting for a cause, trying to stop colonization and being portrayed as entirely in the right for doing so.

It was wrong of that cowardly general to start a bloody, awful, horrifying battle that got other people killed just to satisfy his bloodlust and make himself look big, to place the glory of war and the British empire over a legitimate solution that avoided bloodshed and solved the issue. Meanwhile, in the same breath, the show says It was morally correct of Dan to fight back against a colonizing force in his home city, even when it meant blood.

The context of this genuinely seems to throw people. I've seen complaints that the show can't even make up it's own mind on what it's view of violence is and like... Yeah? You're SO close to getting the point here, guys. Of course you cannot offer a blanket judgement on violence in general! 13 was called a hypocrite for having tears in her eyes when the general killed the retreating sontarans but not caring that Dan and Karvanista used violence to remove them from Liverpool in the future and Entirely missed the nuance of how those situations differ.

I just think it flew over peoples heads that the show was maybe saying gratuitous ego driven violence when peaceful solutions exist is Bad, while at the exact same time also saying that you are morally correct for fighting back against colonizing forces with violence because those peaceful solutions Do Not Exist here.

I mean, it's vastly more complicated than the summary, but yeah. That theme pops up more than once in the era. Trips people a lot, as well.

On a small scene level, i think people misjudged what was going on in It Takes You Away with what the solitract did. I remember people being angry that 13 got a frog and not a person from her past, but Graham and that dude only got their spouses because the solitract was actively trying to trick them into staying with them. The thing about 13 in this scene is that she is the one seducing the solitract, not the other way around (it is Genuinely the most aggressively flirty 13 is her whole run. I don't feel bad using the word seduce in its traditional usage here. She was using every bit of doctor charm that 13 does not normally Want to utilise but proves here can do so if she wants).

Once 13 is alone with the Solitract, the solitract does not Need to trick or manipulate 13 into staying because 13 was the one asking to stay. So when the solitract just appears how it wishes, that makes perfect sense. Also, 13 would have been angry had she had some piece of her past pulled from her brain and shoved in front of her, lbr.

The rest i have are more theme related than episode related specifically? I think? yeah.

[odinsblog]

This stinks to high heaven, or Jannah, or Valhalla, or whatever makes you happy

My big sister is gay. I was the first person she came out to when we were kids, not quite 20 yet. I care deeply about her. And as I matured + unlearned much of my ingrained adolescent homophobia, with my sister’s help, I have come to care deeply about the LGBTQ community. Even the white ones, and all the other non-Black ones too

I’m trying really hard to imagine hearing about something like the Pulse nightclub shooting and somehow not caring about some of the non-Black victims because they might not have shared my exact political beliefs. I can’t. I can’t imagine not caring. Not caring because of something so trivial by comparison of being murdered by a crazy person in cold blood.

Look, I guess at some point either you care about people or you don’t. And if you’re able to turn off who you feel sorrow for based on their race, religion or ideology, then I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know how to relate to you.

I’ve been trying not to post too TOO much about some specifics of what’s happening in Palestine and Israel, but I’m sorry: I feel bad for the innocent children and civilians who were murdered in cold blood in Israel. I know that the “any means” tankies crowd wants everyone to ignore their deaths (or worse celebrate their deaths), but I guess I’m not built that way.

Some of those people murdered at the concert, for example, were not only innocent civilians, but they were also pro-Palestinian activists who spent their time working for peace. I shed tears hearing their family members talking about them. Hamas murdered Holocaust survivors, ffs.

I absolutely can understand Jewish people feeling uneasy right now. They lost a ton of noncombatant civilians —not to mention children. And oh yeah, antisemitism has been at an all time high, unfortunately, just like Islamophobia is about to be. Again.

I might be wrong, but I honestly just do not think that Hamas did Palestinians any favors.

Yes, yes, I dO understand that violence is always a necessary part of freedom and decolonization.

“Nobody in the world, nobody in history, has ever gotten their freedom by appealing to the moral sense of the people who were oppressing them.” —Assata Shakur

So I’m a big podcast listener (helps occupy my mind whenever I’m working on long tedious projects), and I was listening to one where they interviewed a Jewish soldier who was recently activated, but he was out of Israel and had to fly back. He said something like, “If they had only attacked military targets, then I would get it. We got caught with our pants down, and all is fair in love and war, right? But the mass slaughter of civilian families, women and children is the reason I’m going back.”

I wanted to reach through my phone and ask him about Israel preparing to do exactly the same thing to Palestinians in retaliation, but alas I guess I just sounded like a crazy person yelling to himself in my office.

And yeah, before you read too much further, please understand that I dO support the fuck outta Palestine. Let me be unequivocal here: Israel is in the wrong. Israel has oppressed Palestinians for decades. For actual generations.

Remember when Israel literally bulldozed over a woman to build more houses in Gaza?

Yeah, seriously heinous shit, right?

And we don’t actually have a solid count for all the innocent murdered Palestinian civilians who were living in apartment buildings that Israel has been bombing to smithereens for the past few days. I understand that Israel and the West would have us believe that everyone in Gaza is a terrorist and nobody is an innocent civilian, but hopefully, if you’re reading this, YOU know better than that.

But that said ….. I cannot get with tankies—who, safe and sound in their homes, not being perpetually bombed—want to sound “hard” on social media, and make no distinctions with the people who were just minding their own fucking business at a goddamn concert. I think about all of the mass shootings in America (movie theaters, grocery stores, night clubs, concerts, schools, office buildings, etc) and I just cannot imagine justifying or excusing ANY of them because of the shooter’s “ideology.” I know it’s not an apples-to-apples comparison, but it’s close enough.

“If they were on colonized land then they deserved to die” is one hell of a fucked up take. The slippery slope is that if any of our loved ones are gunned down by “freedom fighters,” then we should just be happy for “the cause” and not shed any tears, because ALL of us deserve to die in America and other Western countries, because we’re all living on colonized land.

I cannot even begin to explain how flawed and fucked up that so-called reasoning is.

You have to have some fucking lines and boundaries.

We don’t just do a shoulder shrug when children are murdered in cold blood—and no, I’m not talking about the 40 babies allegedly beheaded, I’m just talking about the little toddlers who were shot through walls and died, and the elderly and disabled who were shown being dragged away. Yeah, I feel sorry for them too. And I won’t apologize for that.

Rape is wrong. All the time. Under all circumstances. Even when it’s happening to people who you don’t like.

Murdering children is wrong. All the time. Under all circumstances. Even when it’s the children of people who you don’t like.

Do I really need to spell this shit out? JFC.

If you don’t care about any of this because you’re “down for the cause,” then you. are. lost. Like really and truly lost. You aren’t a radical. You’re a fanatic. And hopefully you won’t be in a position to ever receive the fanatical Karma that you’re asking for.

Anyway…

I am on the side of Palestine in all of this. They never deserved to be oppressed by Israel or anyone.

Innocent Palestinian women and children are dying as you’re reading this. I’m shedding tears for them too. They’ve been going through this for way too long. That fact alone is beyond being a tragedy.

Palestine has already suffered and will suffer 10 times more than all of the civilians and noncombatants who were tragically murdered in Kfar Aza.

As always, my usual reminders:

The Holocaust happened

Antisemitism is real

Hamas ≠ Palestine

Israel is an apartheid state

Collective punishment is a war crime

Benjamin Netanyahu is a war criminal

You can support Palestine without being antisemitic

Free Palestine 🇵🇸

[vodid]

ok i keep seeing awfully targeted vagueposts about me pertaining to my silly idw-exclusionary prowlsweep campaign — which i didn't expect to have gained so much traction and negative reactions — so, while yes, i understand lighthearted jokes may still hit home a little too closely, i'm not responsible for your feelings /neu. but i get it. we're protective of our blorbos and i have a hard time with the jokes too. especially about prowl and especially especially about idw prowl, believe it or not. i do get upset over them, which i suppose was why i ran my campaign like that. many of the polls (from what i could see, i probably missed a lot) were just "my blorbo is so sweet he deserves to win" but swervesweep was solidly "do not vote for prowl he is a shit man" you can't tell me there wasn't some sort of bias because of idw prowl. there's a difference between lifting up a contender and slandering another so horribly. voting because you hate, not because you love.

so yeah, just like some had gotten upset over my campaign (even if it was a joke), i got upset upon seeing all the negative tags (even if they were jokes). i admit to getting defensive and decided to run a funny campaign focused on g1 and tfa, because there was more love for them and i wanted to try to make something a little silly but positive out of it. like "hey, ignore idw for just a second because i promise there are husband-material prowls." i do admit i may have let my saltiness show through that campaign too much, so this is a bit hypocritical of me and i fully acknowledge that.

i got more to say tho shdfdsfs this got long and messy, sorry. i'll put it under a cut. i don't usually talk this in depth about my opinion of idw prowl (or just. any opinion.) ironically for this exact reason but,,

i so desperately want to like idw prowl. i really do. and in some way, i do like him (surprising, i know). but i can't look past the way the writers and the fandom treat him. that's what i truly hate. he gets insanely (and imo undeserved) bad rep and i was just sick and tired of seeing all the unreasonable hate for him from cherrypickers. so if idw prowl is going to severely /neg affect people's opinions of prowl as a whole, then i'd prefer he didn't exist. that's my harsh and albeit a bit childish truth but i'm not sorry for it.

i dislike his portrayal for a number of reasons in that it's just not him to me. i can certainly acknowledge a character doesn't have to be consistently the same every time, and that idw was meant to be an expansion of these characters and what they can be. but it doesn't mean i like the direction they took with him. what they did to him/had him do. it was like they took his core being, what made his character solidly his, threw it at the mirror to reverse it and wondered why it shattered.

if it weren't prowl, i wouldn't have as much of a problem with his character in idw. but unfortunately, he is. in concept, he is a very interesting character with a beautifully tragic story and maybe i would've liked his skrunkly ass /affectionate. but he's just not my rodrick.

also i can't get past the ableism of his portrayal 🫶 that's not a page in my book i'd like to add besties. and not a page i'm getting into in this post.

it goes so much deeper than "wahh big titty cop man is so mean" like cmoooon. i'm not a coward for asking people to look past his wrongdoings in idw they unequivocally hate him for when literally everybody else in idw has in some way done equally bad or worse things ...but are still unconditionally loved? nah. if they can stop their bias for one (1) second, maybe they could see more. thus, idw-exclusionary campaign. in an attempt to get people to stop seeing every prowl as bad. because like i said, idw taints the fuck out of non-idw prowls. how is that any fair? (and how are we prowl lovers supposed to feel seeing all that?)

these are entirely my opinions. i'm entitled to mine just as you are yours, and i am entitled to spin the campaign in any way i want. idw-exclusionary, pro-jazzprowl, boob-loving 💖, what have you. if you didn't like it, then you were more than welcome to start your own campaign alongside me! you didn't have to leave it to me. should i have maybe tried to convince people why idw prowl's wrongdoings don't make him deserving of such hatred? sure, that'd been nice. but i'm not well enough equipped for that. you can do that tho, i'd love to see it

i can't stop you from vagueposting and i won't tell you your opinions are invalid. but if you get to share your thoughts, i'd like to as well. we can both be critical of these topics in our own way and it'd be nice to come to an understanding instead of having to resort to blocking and vagueposting. (me? the coward? /j) you have every right to do that though, especially if its for your own comfort, and i really can't stop you. but it'd be real nice if we didn't outright attack the person and call them names. this problem is bigger than me. i just happened to speak on it.

all in all, it's not that serious of a situation — or rather, i wish it wasn't and i'm upset that i'm even writing this. i shouldn't have to write this, but you guys cannot for the life of yourselves understand the basic reason behind the campaign. or do you just refuse to? did you think to ask why?

we're both protective of prowl. idw or not. we were on the same team and it's not an awful thing to want to encourage people to consider other prowls before idw. i want them to see he can be good! i want them to see what i see in him. he's just a little blorbo man and it's funny in a bit of a sad way that i'm getting so heated over a fictional character and a silly poll.

sorry to poll ops. i didn't want it to spiral like that. i truly did have a lot of fun running my little campaign, even if it looked a bit (lightheartedly) aggressive. i just wanted my blorbo to win fandom favor for once 💔 jazz vs prowl would have been absolutely hilarious too. even as a non-j/p shipper, i hope you'll agree it'd have been funny to see us losing our minds over having to choose but that's besides the point!

in the end (it didn't even matter) we're all robot lovers. and it's sad we tend to have such a difficult time getting along. i'm here to make art and it's all supposed to be fun and games.

sorry to my many new followers too, this isn't the best first impression. i try to keep this stuff off my blog. i hope u like my art and thanks for sticking around — yes, even u swervesweepers (you absolute TRAITORS /lh /lh 💕)

take care of yourselves

[arr0s]

Straighten up, soldier. Something's made your eyes go cold.

Location: first bit is a farm then the lost lands camp Characters: Arros "last name" Synopsis: Arros is upsetti about everything that happened and is sad and stuff and becomes part of the legion of the dead! yippie!!

“Oh little pup, you’ve gotten your paws all dirty. Go wash up before your mother sees, you know how she gets.” A kiss on the top of her head and a nudge towards the stream; you can still remember the crinkles that bunched up in the corner of his eyes whenever he smiled, and how his hands were so rough from working the farm, but his voice so sweet and warm like honey on fresh bread.

You would often hear your mother scolding him for being so soft on you, but she was just the same. Her voice was more strict but when she took you in her arms there was no mistaking the unequivocal love she had for you

When nightmares came they would kiss your eyes and lay you back to sleep.When the flames and smoke licked at the walls and scorched your home, no one was there to hold you. You cried and cried and cried, alone in your bedroom clutching at your chest and whimpering like a wounded dog. 

And when they found you in the ashes, they didn’t really find you did they? That girl was gone, replaced with something rotten, something sharp. You don’t feel very human anymore.

You died that day, that young girl's tears turned into rage, your smile turned into fangs. Time and time again you are told you are a weapon, you are a force, you do what you’re told. You don’t cry anymore. It makes you tremble, to think back and remember how you thought life was going to be. So you don’t. How does it feel to be dead, little pup?

♛ ♛ ♛ ♛

Surrounded by the rush of faces, you stand in a sea of people and somehow you feel more alone than you have in a long time. (cliche right?) Something had changed when you escaped. They weren’t your friends, they never really were, were they? 

But they helped me.

b̶̤̈́ẻ̷͓̠ć̷̗ausȩ̴͎̔̂ ̴̐̎ͅt̷̖̺̽ḧ̸̗́ē̵̪̄ŷ̵̬ ̸͖͛ñ̴͕̹͠e̷̮̖͛̽e̵̝̗̒ded ̵̢̪͐̾y̴̡̫̓o̶͎̯͆ư̶̧͉̾

You were approached by the Shield Maiden - the one that watched over you when you were dying. The one who bore your burden as her own. The one reason you made it out of the tundra alive - the way she spoke to you. The softness of her voice and the worried turn of her brow; it was unfamiliar. If anything she was proof you could walk through hell, with the hounds tearing at your spirit and still hold onto that soft, gentle humanity you weren't used to. It bites at your cold heart. Another reason you feel so… sighted, your misery on display through some scope you can’t conceive of. Or maybe it’s the fucking trauma eating you alive, Gods knows there’ll be plenty of that to sift through.

You weren’t left alone for long, with the Blight subsided only for the time being; you were approached by the Legion, criminals and urchins with no other place to go - left fighting the blight for the rest of their lives. You swallowed. You knew there were no other options for you, there wasn’t a way to completely clean you from the blight, either you join the damned or you die. It was a simple choice - so why did it feel like yet again another choice was being made for you.

Why was it you were never able to control your own fate; just some plaything for the cosmic unknown - being led like a doll to some sort of fantasy they had for you. 

You drank from the goblet, you heard the screams, the roars, the unnatural and sickening calls from the other side, you were certain you had more poison than blood running through your veins. You hurt. Like someone’s taken sanding paper to your bones, bruises riddling every inch of you that has blood enough to call itself alive, because you damn fucking sure don’t feel like you are.

The woman who accompanied you, didn't need you anymore - you likely wouldn't see them again. Not like you cared right? The Witcher, born to be used and forgotten, with a bite to every word and an attitude that keeps everyone away. Fuck them, you don't need anyone. a fighter, a bitch, a sword, that's all you're meant to be.

And for some reason, this is what brings on the tears, a punch of heat behind your eyes, though it doesn’t quite spill over yet. Your fate has been sealed Legionnaire - you no longer serve the king.

So you stay there till your legs finally give out, and you crumple to the floor.And you lay there in silence, and in darkness, thinking everything, so much that it becomes nothing.

White noise in your skull, your bones, your blood. Carrying you so far away from yourself until, finally, you are gone.

Finally, if only for a while, it is all gone.

[aronarchy]

https://web.archive.org/web/20220101153217/https://twitter.com/butchanarchy/status/1380281183708217345

[image ID: twitter thread by butchanarchy from April 8, 2021 that reads,

Speaking as a butch lesbian, even if “there are less butches because more people are identifying as trans men/nb” were true, it would be unequivocally a good thing.

I don’t need more people identifying as butch. I want more people coming home to identities that are true to them.

Literally what is the logic behind seeing people just settling for butch/lesbian identity because they don’t have other words to speak more accurately to their experience something positive for butch/lesbian identity? Cause that sounds like shit to me!

Also, said it before and I’ll say it again, from my personal experience as a butch I’ve experienced FAR more extra+intracommunity pressure to present more feminine than I’ve EVER been pressured to transition.

It’s time to stop blaming trans men and transmasc folks for there being less butches and gnc women around when the actual cause is that y’all keep insisting that we have “masculine privilege” and use that language to keep us out of the only spaces we hope to find safety in.

^^ and of course the normal compulsory femininity we’ve always experienced and been fucked up by in the heteronormative world that often comes with the threat of violence. Sad as fuck that that rhetoric is creeping its way more and more into lgbtqia circles.

Also, fuck Glenn Greenwald 🖕

reply to the thread by afrodykee:

Also people forget that there are a ton of nonbinary and trans lesbians.

And a lot of the time, the very same people who are concerned about where all the butch lesbians are going are the same ones being transphobic and insisting nonbinary and trans lesbians are men.

quote tweet of afrodykee by butchanarchy:

Also this! In fact, I am one of them!

reply to the thread by JulianSpannagel:

Sounds like a really nice approach to identities, thx for sharing :)

reply to the thread by DaniPurdes:

Plus you get butch trans women like me, so it evens out or whatever.

reply to DaniPurdes by captgeocat:

💯

/end image ID]

[sherbovania]

WHAT HAPPENED AT THE CON?!? did people buy your stuff? were they weird as shit? give us the details expand on the horrors (pls)

many horrors occurred with me and my bestie @/z0mbieb0yx3 at galaxycon columbus from december 2-4 2022. the first thing to go wrong was me throwing up in his car at like 9am and looking back i consider it an omen

to answer your questions specifically:

did people buy your stuff?

no they didn't. i sold a grand total of $50 worth of stock. on saturday, which is supposed to be peak operating hours, i sold a grand total of 5 items and that just kinda made my resolve shatter. i remember crying about it on the drive back home, as well as panicking during day 3 about what my father would think of me after such a catastrophic and horrendous failure since he is both Business Man (man who knows everything about business) and expects perfection from me. my mom on the other hand was very understanding and kind when i turned up at our house at 11pm with bloodshot eyes and dried tears on my face so uh shoutout my momma yo

were they weird as shit?

most people were very nice fortunately! never once did i feel unsafe at the con. there was one guy who came up to our table that kinda skeeved me out but that's the most of it really. a lot of Autism (affectionate) was on display at da con which is always appreciated and i got to link up with some artists that i'm cool with now ^^

we were WOEFULLY unprepared. we didn't have enough variety in stock to make our booth look full AND we had no display equipment (stands, tablecloth, bins, etc.). our shit (respectfully) looked budget as fuck we were not big ballers

this was not helped by the layout of the exhibition hall being absolute doodoo garbage. you had to go WAY out of your way to even find the artist alley which was in the far back left corner of the room, you couldn't even see it from the entrance because of the 10 foot high Premium Vendor booths. there was NO signage directing you towards the alley or even saying you arrived at it so w/o a map you just had to stumble into it. right behind the alley was the bafflingly small food court (a subway, jet's pizza and chick-fil-a stand lined up next to each other) which didn't bring in any traffic from what i could gather

our booth was right next to this very nice couple who would check in with us occasionally and we learned thru them that everybody in the alley was getting no fucking sales! gee i wonder if the poor layout had anything to do with it. it's not a small convention by any means, which made the fumbles all the more shocking. they told us to not beat ourselves up over low sales which was really nice to hear and genuinely reassuring :] day 3 was basically everybody trading stock with each other since they knew it was absolutely and unequivocally joever

some of the horrors were my fault though. that weekend was the first time i drank a monster energy and i (a dumbass) thought it would be so awesome and so cool to drink it on an empty stomach. immediately i felt the repercussions and thought i was having my Jokar Moment until wingding suggested i eat some fucking pizza and suddenly i was like yeah this is fine i'm good now. who woulda thunk it. i did it again the next day and the same thing happened because i never learn. i also tried edibles for the first time on this Very Professional Business Trip and i instantly got scared. oops

in short: columbus ohio is hell. do not go there