#Idk man just a ramble post but I just

[jupiter--dream]

I can't take it anymore 💥💥

Au where Nightmare wants to force Dream to eat a black apple, supposedly "to inflict in them the pain NM had to go through"... Except subconsciously, and covered by a layer of denial, he just wants Dream to corrupt so they can be on the same team (wish I didn't have to say this but NOT IN A SHIP WAY PLS) 💥💥💥 (more rambling in the tags as usual✨)

[hatsbuckets]

[i do not need a fwb situation, i tell myself repeatedly. (i'm in college it'd be way too easy lmao)]

Head Canons (some suggestive stuff in this but not much)

Thinking about John Mactavish volunteering at animal shelters whenever he can. It ends up being like a few spattering of days every month, but he'll spend all day there. He loves being around the animals. And he loves getting to be useful and help wherever he can.

You, a longtime volunteer, there nearly every day, love having the enthusiastic, charming... strong... muscular... funny... extra help too. You were the one who showed John around on his first day, a volunteer event day that he happened upon. A few dozen people showed up, and this mohawked, military man was among them.

He was one of the few who came back to the shelter after the event, and on some random day every week, he's there to lend a hand, listening intently to whatever instructions you give him (he's very motivated to listen to you and help the animals out) and even after a couple weeks of absence, he comes back again, apologizing that work took him away so suddenly.

And after a few months... this silly, mohawked, (might I add effortlessly charming, handsome, pretty?) military man's scattering of volunteer days has become a welcome surprise every time. He's always so sweet when he talks to you, throwing a friendly, "good mornin', love. Survive without me?" Carrying on easy conversation throughout the day, and occasionally something that feels like flirting, but you don't read too much into it.

He's a blessing to have. Dogs need a run? He's the first to grab their leashes. Cats' litter boxes need cleaning? He's there with a scoop in hand. The small collection of rodents' pens need a new layer of bedding? He's already headed to storage.

He comes back drenched in sweat from runs, his tank plastered to his chest. Sweaty thighs peeking out from below his shorts as he squats down to pet the happy, panting dogs. And you pass him a towel, and his smile just beams up at you. God he's adorable and hot all at once.

His arms flex against his shirt sleeves when he hefts the heavy bags of food up onto his shoulder and god if only he'd do that that you.

His hands are so gentle with the tiny new litter of cats that just came in, helping you clean them off and place them safely into the crate with their mum. need I say more

You learn more about each other. Where he's from, what he does for work, and of course you'd pinned military, but he doesn't quite go into the work that he does. He talks about the men he works with, and you start to recognize names like Price, Gaz, and Ghost. He even shows you pictures of the first two. Not the latter though.

And then another few weeks he's not there... You're starting to miss the loud Scottish voice that normally fills the space as you hose down the concrete patio in the back the shelter. Your thoughts drift to how last time you did this with him he had sprayed you very intentionally with the hose. And you nearly tackled him to wrap your soaking body around him. His hand discarding the hose and wrapping under your legs as he hoists you happily up into his arms and oh you were so close, laughing, smiling, teasing about getting soaked. You were definitely blushing as much as he was.

a couple of days later, just like he'd never left, he's back, helping you organize the larger storage closet. Sharing jokes and teasing. Until you have to reach across him and his face is so close to yours and he completes the distance, catching you oh so off guard but you melt into that kiss. and he presses and prods until your job to reorganize is interrupted by the sudden to fuck each other into the next dimension.

and then a few days later it's the same... You had simply gone to grab a new leash from the closet... he had come for a bag of dog food... or that's what he'd told you at least...

And then your bodies are close, his hand at the back of your neck, your hand travelling down and down, his mouth on yours, hot, needy, quick, and amazing. You're both happy to do it. And it seems you both don't think much of it.

This becomes a routine, in his oh too few volunteer days each month, you make a habit of occupying small, mostly private spaces of the shelter, the small break room, the storage closet, his car, your car. It's only been two or three months, and it's not like it's a big shelter, not that many employees, but damn if it doesn't excite you all the same.

And then after one of these sessions, as you're slipping you shirt on in the back of your car, he pecks a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I'll be gone a few weeks this time, bonnie. Jus' though' I might warn ya." (his accent gets thicker when it's laced with lust, you've come to notice.)

And he is, gone a while, that is. And during this time one of your old flings comes to town... some business trip... and God is this one always a good time, so charming and kind, buys you chocolates and all, a good person truly, just not one to settle down. That's fine by you. So, you let them take you home, let them in your bed, and have a good time. And then they head back to whatever the hell fancy job they have in whatever town they live in now.

It's longer than you expect before John comes back. And when he does, he greets you with that charming smile and you put him to work almost immediately, and he's happy to get to cleaning the dog kennels with you. You get to talking, he asks how your past few weeks have been. And John is so easy to talk to. And you mention your old friend you visited, how they visited your home, even bought you chocolates, the goof. But John gets quiet at this... you don't mention it, not yet...

And then of course, he walks you out to your car that afternoon and of course you end up in the back of it (I should mention here that you do not own a small car, after being the animal lover you are, you need the space to load crates in the back seat) and something about how John takes you this time is needy, needier, possesive in the way he nips at your skin and presses against you.

And at the end of it, he leaves with the same gentle peck at the corner of your mouth, but this time there's no quip, no tease, just a "drive safe" and a gentle smile...

A few days later this man returns to the shelter and before he even asks what needs to get done, he's offering up a small box of chocolates with a bashful little smile.

You thank him and accept the chocolates. and then it's back to work. That evening though, after a particularly long day after getting three new dogs and a new cat, when John walks you to your car, you ask if he wants to go home with you. You'd thought about it all day... somewhere between cleaning and intaking the new animals, mustering up the courage to ask. He accepts with that same enthusiasm that the dogs have when someone walks in with their leashes.

You wake up tangled in him, his arm slung heavy over your waist, his chest warm against your back, one leg thrown over yours like he’s actively trying to wrestle you into the mattress in his sleep. And this man sleeps light, military training and all, but the second you start shifting to sneak out of bed, his grip tightens. "Where ya goin’, love?" all rough morning voice and sleep-heavy slur, nose nudging against your shoulder like he could just sink right back into you and stay there. (You do not go anywhere.)

And things stay the same, mostly. He still only comes around every few weeks, still volunteers, still fills the shelter with that chaotic, obnoxious, charming energy. Still gets drenched in sweat from running the dogs, still lifts those massive bags of food onto his shoulders like he’s personally showing off for you (and he is), still sneaks off into the storage closet with you when no one’s looking, grinning against your mouth before pressing you up against the nearest shelf.

But then, one evening, right as you're closing up the shelter, he lingers by the front desk. Hands shoved deep in his pockets. That telltale shift of weight from foot to foot like he's got something rattling around in his skull, something he's been turning over for a while now.

"Was thinkin'..." He exhales sharply, rubs a hand over the back of his neck, looking down at his boots like they’ve got the answers. "I've gotta go again, but maybe next time I’m back, we go out somewhere. A proper date, aye?"

And fuck. That shouldn’t make your stomach flip. But it does. You should say yes. You want to say yes. But you don't.

Because life is a cruel and petty little bastard, your old fling had waltzed back into town. Just for you. A familiar, easy thing. The kind of person you don’t have to think about too much. And for some reason, you say yes when they ask you to dinner. Maybe because you don’t want to wait for something uncertain. Maybe because John is John—flirty, gorgeous, disgustingly good at making you weak in the knees, but never around long enough for you to be sure. (And John doesn't show it, not outwardly, but it breaks his heart.)

And then John comes back. Finally. And he’s not alone. There is a mountain standing next to him. Big. Broad. Dressed head to toe in dark clothes and hoodie like he’s ready for spying, the lower half of his face covered by a black medical mask. He looks like he could crush a man with one hand and still have fingers left to spare. And his eyes, dark, cold, sharp as a fucking blade, land on you like he’s personally offended by your existence. Oh. Oh, this must be Ghost.

John, completely unfazed, grins. “Ghost wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” Ghost says nothing. Just stares. (You have never felt more judged in your life. The fuck did you do to make this walking fortress glare at you like that? You know he doesn’t know. There’s no way he knows. Right?)

And things go back to normal, kind of. John keeps showing up, keeps doing his usual thing. But there’s something off this time. A shift in the way he looks at you, something quietly considering behind his eyes. It all comes to a head one evening when you’re closing up together, standing in the back room trying to fix a shelving issue. He’s quiet. You’re quiet.

And then, you break first. Spill it out like you didn’t mean to—how your old fling wasn’t what you thought, how you shouldn’t have agreed in the first place, how you let yourself get caught up in something easy instead of something real. And John? He leans back against the counter, arms crossed, listening, nodding along like he’s already pieced this all together. Until you mutter, "And I don’t even fucking like chocolate."

And that is what makes him pause. And his brows pull together. Just a little. And then, in the softest, most John way possible—"...Oh."

And the next time he walks into the shelter, it’s not with chocolates.

It’s with a small paper bag. He hands it to you with a little smirk, and inside.

Fresh strawberries. From the farmer’s stand down the road. You’d only mentioned them once. Some passing comment made one day while you were both cleaning up in the yard outside. And John had remembered. And with a charming little smile, he takes your hand. "Let me take ya out properly." And you blink up at him, caught off guard by how easy, how simple he makes it sound. "I—yeah."

And yes, you go on that date. And yes, you end up back at your place. And yes, you have a very, very good night.

And yes, eventually, John introduces you to Ghost properly. (and Price and Gaz too, ah John and Kyle.)

And yes, somehow, someway, you end up with not just one, but two terrifyingly strong military men helping out at the shelter—John still enthusiastically doing everything he can, and Ghost looming in the doing every little thing you ask without question, surprisingly good with the most feral old cats, somehow terrifying and begrudgingly helpful all at once. (He makes it a point to lift two bags of dog food for every one John carries. Jesus Christ)

And yes, eventually, Ghost ends up in your bed too.

But that’s another story.

Thanks for reading.

[guttednight]

finished disco elysium and my brain will not let go of the word choice “insula” and “insulindian” - like i *know* it’s just the latin word for island, but i feel like nothing is *just* anything in this game, and the creators obviously have at least some knowledge of brain structures (given the limbic system and the basal ganglia aka ancient reptilian brain, plus encyclopaedia mentioning other parts too - the amygdala, i think?) - it feels purposeful to me! the insula is connected to both the limbic system and the basal ganglia, in fact it’s a largely a communication cortex, lots of transferring and processing of information (sensory in particular), which i think is really interesting when looking at the communication between harry/his brain structures and the world, aka the *insula*

this is just senseless half-formed neuropsychologist rambling on my part, and greatly simplified at that, so if anyone more knowledgeable than me wants to expand and/or correct be my guest, i just think it’s fun to speculate! i’d like to think it’s an intentional choice, i’d like to think it reflects Harry’s strange supernatural communication with the world, but then again shivers is my favourite skill (*joint* favourite, with volition) so maybe i’m looking for something in nothing - but where’s the joy in anything if you can’t look for something in nothing, eh?

[serotonin-dose]

AsaDen x Metaphor Re:Fantazio

[welcometogrouchland]

my Stephanie Brown hot take is that she should get mad bitches now that she's single in comics. Yes yes shipping BUT the one time she had sex she was punished by the narrative via teen pregnancy. I think she should be allowed to have as much sex as she wants with zero consequences. Could be a lot of sex, could be a little. Point is she should get to do it without getting narratively baby trapped this time. she should get them pregnant, actually.

[bigchumpus]

Grian doodles ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

[applestorms]

on another note. it genuinely kinda surprises me how many people interpret ivan to be the type of person to Repress and Deny his feelings when, from all the evidence we actually have, he actually seems to be quite open about it?

he does do the dumb stare and watch from afar thing that till does with mizi, yeah, but even there i don’t know if i would necessarily interpret that as ivan like. pushing his feelings away. compare the difference between how till and ivan are framed in these two shots:

in till's, we are pushed way farther back, seeing his full face and a good deal of his body as he slouches back. the colors are bright, fitting in with most of the happier mizisua angst memories, and you can read till's expression pretty clearly, even with his face beaten up. it's cute and mostly innocent, the kind of thing that makes you want to gently push him out from behind the wall to watch him stutter and get all embarrassed but reach out and play with his friends.

in ivan's... jesus. i mean, he looks like a freak (affectionate). you can't read his expression, despite the fact that we are zoomed in much more closely, only really seeing his eye as the placement of his hand covers his mouth. there is very little body language to convey the same type of sweet, childhood Yearning that till has in his staring shot. instead, for ivan, it all comes down to the Eye, how intently he stares as he watches till and mizi. it almost doesn't even feel like he wants to join in at that moment, or not yet, like watching alone is enough to feed the starvation.

don't get me wrong, there's still plenty of Yearning and Angst in that boy-- round 3 alone is enough to demonstrate that. but what i think people sometimes forget to account for is the fact that ivan acts like that specifically because he has already been rejected.

up until [whenever this moment happens in the timeline] ivan seemingly has absolutely no qualms about getting all up close and personal with till. we see this in plenty of the round 6 flashbacks:

he is plenty comfortable getting all up in till's personal space, whether it be to beat him up or just exist near him.

i also like how in this shot (below) we can see him specifically stand up and move seats, just so that he can bother till during lunch and have his little vampire weirdo moment (aww).

ivan's behavior only really shifts after till has already rejected him-- which, i'd also like to note, seems to genuinely catch ivan off guard. perhaps he genuinely didn't even consider the possibility that till would ever push him away?? i guess it's hard to know the specifics of what he was feeling or thinking in that exact moment, but at the very least this speaks to the ease with which they existed around each other previously.

thus: ivan doesn't begin with the belief that till could never love him. he only starts to doubt whether or not his feelings are requited after he has already been rejected, after he pushed too hard and too quick.

after the failed meteor shower date, his affections become a lot more subtle-- sneaking around to take care of till when he needs it, but only when his eyes are closed. the love and obsession and watchfulness is all still there, but he takes more care to hide it better now. until... well, y'know.

he lets the selfishness win. :]

[eternalmomentss]

Maybe I am a minority here but I really don't want the world to view BH as villains. They genuinely do not deserve that and in my eyes, it would be both unfair and unwarranted. This group of outcasts, who are made up of their pain and trauma and have barely been making it through life, lost or left alone. This group that claws itself through life, day after day, feeling unaccepted. Nobodies, all of a sudden pushed into the spotlight of the world. A group that continues to sacrifice and worry and hope and fight and a group that just wants the best for the world in a complicated situation with no perfect answers. It wouldn't be right at all to say they are betraying Exandria, in my opinion. They are trying to subdue the threat of Predathos permanently, at the cost of their own lives, their own safety and sanity. They are trying to bargain, with fate, with gods. For people and the gods themselves. They stopped Ludinus, but there is no stopping the change he has brought. No stopping the fact that the world knows and looks to the moon and the cage and the godeater inside.

They are just trying. They are tired, they were chosen and pushed and pulled and they are trying.

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

Late night mush-brained I-really-need-to-edit-this-draft-because-this-is-probably-all-way-too-much-irrelevant-information late night thoughts

[luna-the-cretar]

I feel like Shepnax would be the kind of couple that it’s not entirely clear if they’re dating or not. Like, they don’t kiss or really hold hands or anything like that. But they cuddle and their tails will intertwine if possible. Occasionally Shepherd will press a light kiss on the top of Sarnax’s head while they’re cuddling, or Sarnax will inspect the wonders of Shepherd’s hair and horns (especially the hair. On more than one occasion, Sarnax will throw a dozen questions about Shepherd’s hair—“what is it made of? How does it grow? Why does it grow? Why is it this color? Why does your hair look different from the others?”—and Shepherd always answers them to the best of his ability, even if most of his answers are simply just “I dunno, ask the Professor ‘bout that.”).

Neither of them really use pet names either. Sarnax doesn’t understand the concept of pet names, and Step doesn’t really see the point in them (“why not just call ‘em by their name?”). At one point Sarnax learns about the concept of pet names (via not-so-subtly asking the others about them), and tries to use a couple for Shep, though Shep swiftly put a stop to it (the first time Sarnax called him “My Dear” Shepherd just about died. He can’t quite decide if he loved it or hated it).

They’re dating for over a year and a half before anyone else in the party finds out. It’s not like they were really hiding it, it’s just that nobody ever really asked. Clayton had asked Shepherd if he had any experience with past relationships—just trying to get to know his party members better—and Shepherd tells him that Sarnax was really the first person Shep has ever been with, and he’s just…trying to figure it out, y’know? Clayton is so shell-shocked to hear that his cleric and ranger are just…casually dating, and asks how long this has been going on. Shepherd says it’s been roughly a year and a half, and Clayton flips his shit. They’ve been dating for a year and a half, and he’s just now hearing about this!? What other secrets are his employees hiding from him!? (Don’t tell him what Victoria and Kana get up to in the middle of the night. It is not nearly as innocent and wholesome as Shepnax)

Sarnax is very interested in Shepherd’s scent. Like, to an abnormal degree. Shepherd found it kinda strange, at first, but now finds it quite endearing. Sarnax is outright obsessed with how Shepherd’s scent changes, based on the day’s activities and when he last bathed and what soaps he used (if any). Shepherd has found that Sarnax prefers it whenever he smells like sweat and dirt (which, coincidentally, is what he smells like most of the time anyway)—he assumes it’s because of some primal part in the lizardfolk’s brain. Though he doesn’t mind the way Shepherd smells when he’s freshly bathed, as long as he doesn’t use those fancy smelly soaps (Sarnax likes the smell of fire and bourbon that Shepherd somehow always smells like. Mix that with the natural musk of the forest, and he’s practically got the lizardfolk salivating). Shepherd has, on more than one occasion, walked in on Sarnax obsessively smelling his poncho before he’s gotten a chance to wash it. Coincidentally, those are also the days they spent the entire day traveling.

They are both very curious about each others anatomies. Not necessarily in a sexual way (though Shepherd was very confused about Sarnax’s cloaca, and Sarnax was very interested in the workings of mammalian genitalia), but like. Generally. Such as Sarnax’s obsession with Shepherd’s hair, or Shepherd being oddly curious about lizardfolk laying eggs, or Sarnax being cold blooded (not like it’s really an issue with Shepherd being warmer than most humanoids)

[kazumist]

perhaps making peace with the reality of not being loved in this lifetime is tough for others—after all, it was tough for you. begging yourself to not get yourself hopes up every time because you knew where it would lead you wasn’t easy.

yet making sure to get used to being alone is the hardest part. at night, you made sure that you’re okay with sleeping alone and that it’s acceptable for you that the other side of the bed would not have a familiar warmth lingering in the sheets. it would be easier to save money when you’re sure that no one would come over for a meal (when you’re sure that you don’t have to buy silverware in pairs so your kitchen cupboard can get touched by cobwebs).

you know you made peace with the reality of not being loved in this lifetime. your skin would decay without being touched by intimacy. one’s hands would fear to let their fingertips near something that’s filled with scars that run deeper than their fears—something so unworthy. you have long accepted that your heart would just be an organ that you would need to live, that it would always be locked within the bones of your ribs, hiding it from the cruel world outside.

pathetic, is it not? to adjust yourself to the thought of spending the rest of your lifetime alone.

you were fine with that (or so you thought).

everything changed when hayato suo came crashing into your life. literally.

it starts with a common occurrence of some other delinquents who couldn’t leave you alone. then you two would see each other often in the streets, and then there were times when your visit to kotoha would collide.

hayato was a gentleman; that information is nothing new. but in some sense, he’s truly a gentle man. the exact moment when his fingertips brushed against your knuckles accidentally was when the peace you made within yourself turned into chaos. the feeling of his fingertips was soft and gentle. your whole body was screaming at you, raging for an outlet.

you didn’t make peace with the idea of not being loved. you were just scared that the fate of being in love would doom you—that this whole belief in love that people seem to believe in would shred you in shambles. yet with only one glance from hayato suo was enough for your high walls to crumble into dust. you could always see an unfamiliar glimmer in his eye when he gazes at you. is that what they call the look of love?

it was a foreign thought to you that someone would ever look at you like they could mend even the most broken parts within yourself. that they could heal the deep scars from within. yet with hayato suo, it all seemed so easy with him. hell, you didn’t even believe that your heart would actually make room for him.

before you knew it, you had already bought an extra set of silverware and dishes for one person—and an extra mug just in case he comes over.

you hope that he does.

[red-might-be-dead]

vyncent sol blog simulator

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q

7 notes

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hi guys its me, william, i made vynce a tumblr account so he can see my poems. wisp out. 🥀

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vyncent said he wanted to do the username though that wasnt me 🥀

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Foudn uyo.

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liked by dakotaiscoming

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poem #16627 - wolves again

~𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔀𝓸𝓵𝓯 𝓯𝓾𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓪𝓭𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓲 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝔀𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝔀𝓸 𝔀𝓸𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓻 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝔀𝓸𝓵𝓯 𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮~

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Huh

3 notes

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q

12 notes

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Aoes anoyne knwo how to fxi this.

#Accident

4 notes

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#Another one.

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Yuo ever thinj about murder

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thats wrong vyncent 😢

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Tehy shoufl make murder elgal

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No.

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for me

124 notes

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q

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hi again! its me, william, i took vyncent's phone off of him while he was sleeping, wanna ask me anything? 🥀

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[wanna talk about boys voice] is vyncent sleeping next to you 😳right 😳now 😳 omg are you stroking 😳 his 😳 hair 😳 and playing 😳 with 😳 his 😳 fingers 😳

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no more questions. wisp out. 🥀

13,390 notes

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fyck not agina.

3 notes

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i finally got that dumb fucking cat on my island. im not letting him leave. ever.

youre mine. raymond.

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Who

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oh, to be as ignorant as you, you sweet summer child....

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Huh

12,430 notes

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Gto a new knife.

#Coolest

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q

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why do you keep posting the letter q? 🥀

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q

2,054,630 notes

[beachbears]

I made these like a year ago for a friend group presentation and I never had the guts to post them until now

[good-to-drive]

Abuse, Silence, And Why Kevin Can Fuck Himself

I recently finished watching Kevin Can Fuck Himself on Netflix, and, aside from being the most brutally honest portrayal of domestic abuse I have ever seen, I discovered a beautifully written examination of narrative as power and silence as abuse and how this manifests in our larger culture. 

Without going into too much detail, the show is filmed in two distinct styles that are interleaved throughout each episode to tell a cohesive story. Allison and Kevin’s relationship as seen by the rest of the world is told through a multi-cam, laugh-track sitcom that depicts a very typical “goofy husband, shrewish wife” mainstream comedy. Allison’s life through her own eyes is told through a single-cam drama/thriller about Allison planning to murder Kevin to escape his abuse. 

It’s an absolute masterclass in screenwriting, but more than that, every episode explores the difference between truth, fact, and reality, and how none of these things are quite as much or as little as story. But while the process of transforming the chaotic and plotless reality of life into a story is as involuntary and essential as breathing, misogyny and the degradation of women is just as ubiquitous in our society, and a story that exists at the expense of another person’s lived reality is a refutation of their humanity. 

It's also just a great show for anyone who likes to engage with history (or reality TV or true crime or “real life stories” in general), because while we have to tell ourselves stories about her own lives, we have to tell ourselves stories about other people as well. Eternal silence is narrative death, and the perpetual silence of an unspoken narrative is often the last death we can visit on someone whose story we’d rather ignore. 

I also pulled up some books – Lolita and Disgrace – that dealt with similar themes, but from the perspective of the abuser. And what strikes me the most is that, across three beautifully written stories about narrative and silence within a culture that normalizes abuse, Allison, who began her story within a state of narrative death, was the only point-of-view character who had any chance of surviving. 

One of the main themes of Kevin is that a compelling story is often a story that reinforces what we already believe or like to believe, and while the story may be factual and true it often also exists at the expense of someone's lived reality. The exact same series of events can be a silly joke or a harrowing tale of abuse depending on the lens through which we view it, but historically we've only been willing to see the multicam, laugh track, sitcom perspective on unbalanced relationships.

The alchemical process of turning a series of disjoint facts and experiences into a narrative creates something new and compelling, and erases much of what previously existed. In this way, it’s entirely irreversible. We spin our experiences into a very thin thread, a story we can tell ourselves that elicits something within us, something we need in order to live with the complex, uncertain, and unsatisfying reality of life. In think in many ways the thing we elicit in ourselves is truth. But truth is both more and less than fact, often more a reflection of our own beliefs and desires than the events of our lives. And in telling that truth we may never stray from the facts, but we almost by definition cannot give voice to another person’s reality.

There's a scene in season 2 of Kevin when Allison is hit by a door – a la the classic excuse – because of Kevin’s carelessness. And while he absolutely did not hit her, the way it's written is such an incredible allegory for how Kevin has curated their story and curated their friends' and family’s perceptions of their story such that even if she tells everyone the exact, unvarnished truth of what's happening to her and begs for help, they will only be capable of seeing the laugh-track, sitcom, “Kevin is a harmless goofball and his wife is a total shrew” perspective on the events of their lives. 

As so often happens with abuse, their friends and family saw Allison being hurt because of Kevin. But the alchemy of creating a narrative around Kevin and Allison is irreversible, and the series of events they witness can only be spun together to a joke, an accident, a silly, childish mistake. Allison’s reality, Allison’s pain and fear, is completely elided. Like a lost sound in the middle of a sentence, her experience goes silent, and their larger understanding of her relationship never has to change. And you feel so acutely how Allison lives her entire life in that silence. 

Storytelling is human, it’s essential, there’s no other way to engage with our own lives. And it’s not lying. It’s never lying to tell the truth. But it doesn’t reflect every reality, either, because another person’s reality can’t be reflected within our own narrative, because that’s what it means to be another person. To spin two different threads.

And because narrative is the essential process by which we understand our reality, denying someone their own narrative, or denying that this narrative be heard, is inherently abusive. To allow someone a voice is to give them humanity, and to suppress it is to strip that humanity away. 

Disgrace, by J.M. Coetzee, follows the story of a professor, David, who rapes a student and then fails to protect his daughter, Lucy, from being raped by intruders in their home. He destroys his daughter’s life  – not through failing to protect her, but through twisting her rape into a story about why the rape of his student wasn’t wrong. The main theme of the book is generally considered to be exploitation, but Coetzee doesn’t deal with the exploitation of the rape. That’s too direct, too immediate, too easy for the reader to understand as misogynistic and wrong. Rather, Coetzee delves into “the innocuous-seeming use of another person to fill one's gentler emotional needs” (Ruden).

The rape is how we understand David as a fundamentally exploitative person, a person who denies others their humanity by converting them into a vessel for his own desires, who erases their voice in order to speak through them and give himself the things he needs. And that’s how we recognize that the way he absorbs and claims the stories of his daughter and his student is another kind of violation of their humanity. Another way of turning women into vessels for men’s pain and fear and need. 

What’s fascinating is that David's student finds her voice – files a complaint against him – and is eventually able to continue with her life. The woman he raped is less damaged by him than his own daughter, because she was the woman he couldn’t permanently silence. 

In Lolita, another brilliant novel about abuse, dehumanization, and storytelling, Humbert turns to the reader at the end and says, “Imagine us, reader, for we don’t really exist if you don’t.” 

It’s not that Humbert knew he was fictional, but that he knew everyone was fictional. Believed the entire world only truly existed in his own mind, because anything beyond that was irrelevant to his needs. He coped with the collapse of his ability to dehumanize Dolores (who he called Lolita) by demanding that his voice be resurrected. Demanding immortality. Demanding his narrative exist in another person’s world, and thereby be given the existence and humanity that Allison and Dolores and Lucy and David’s student were denied. 

Pushing his needs, finally, onto the reader, because we are the only person he has left, and a person like him can only exist through the use of another. In that way, Humbert was powerless. In that way, Kevin and David were powerless, too.

In Disgrace, David’s dream is to write an opera, and at the end of the book he realizes he’ll never finish his magnum opus. He’ll never be able to terminate the process of converting himself, his world, into a story. But he does learn to decenter himself in that narrative. And it’s when he loses all fear of death, and any conception of the self, that he gains the ability to give dogs – who he generally equates to women – a voice within his opera, his life’s work. 

It’s in death that we discover our true unimportance as human beings, that we learn to let go of vanity and our conception of the self entirely. And David had degraded women so thoroughly in order to justify how he used them to meet his own emotional needs that it was only in losing all value for his own life that he could gain the ability to see them as equal voices. To actually put those voices into his own life story. It's at the cost of himself that he allows other people to truly exist, in the death of the self that he finally allows the world to exist outside of himself. It’s almost a positive character arc. Almost.

When Kevin finally loses the ability to abuse Allison, he, like many abusers, loses all desire to live. His world was built on a structure of superiority and inferiority, on beings and vessels, on the inherent value of men and the inherent meaninglessness of women’s lives. The system on which he based his entire reality has been destroyed by Allison’s declaration of the self. And, if he was a being because she was a vessel, then in losing the ability to treat her as a vessel, to fully and completely dehumanize her, he has lost his own humanity. 

It may be perfectly summed up here: “Become major. Live like a hero. That's what the classics teach us. Be a main character. Otherwise, what is life for?” (Coetzee).

If you’re not to be a main character, if there indeed is no split between major and minor characters, between people and the paper dolls that populate their story, between living beings and the vessels into which they pour their need – what is life for?

Nothing. At least, not for people whose narrative must exist at the expense of another. 

And that’s why I say that only a narrator like Allison could survive this kind of story. Despite beginning her story trapped in eternal silence, her reality fully elided no matter how immediate and obvious it became, Allison was the only point-of-view character of any of these three stories who didn’t establish her power through the degradation of another. Who didn’t conceptualize the world via being and vessels. Whose narrative didn’t exist, by necessity, at the expense of another person’s humanity. Whose thread could exist in a larger tapestry without destroying her sense of self.

Don’t get me wrong, she’s not generally a likable character. She’s misogynistic, cruel, selfish, jealous, desperate, afraid, and in pain. Like anyone in an abusive relationship, she’s not at her best, and she’s often pushed to do things that are ugly and disturbing because she’s simply been pushed too far. 

But, for me, the power in her character is in how her last scene never felt like a final scene. Her story didn’t have to be killed, her conception of the self didn’t have to be killed, in order to reveal the brutal reality of stories twisting and intertwining without any inherently superior truth or narrative among them. Allison’s story was one of declaring herself. And that’s why it didn’t feel like it ended at the end. Instead, this felt like a beginning.

[animangalover-writes]

Yk it really bothers me when I see people talking about eurylochus and the crew like they were the problem. It just feels like everyone is just missing the point. Yes they stopped listening to ody, yes eurylochus opened the wind bag, but that's what makes them so human.

Picture this, you leave your home to fight in a war. It takes literal years for this war to be over. You've lost friends, you miss your family, you've been through hell. You're starving and your captain tells you they found food on this island.

And then the cyclops happens. More friends die, you barely escape with your life, and your captain gives his name to the creature that killed your friends.

And everything after that is a direct cause of that decision.

So you hesitate to trust him. Yes he's smart, he's capable, he always has a plan. But he would do anything to get home, and you know that. So when he comes back to the ship claiming to have a bag full of wind, and when he refuses to let anyone near, refuses to trust his own crew, you get suspicious.

Its been about a decade by this point, and your captain seems to get more and more desperate to get home. A god is after you. Odysseus is forcing himself to stay away, all to make sure nobody touches that bag.

Its human, it's realistic, it makes sense that someone would open the bag. Because odysseus stopped trusting you, and so you stop trusting him. So you open the bag.

I just find it frustrating that people look at the crew/eurylochus as bad guys because of this, as pawns for ody to get home and thats it. The point of the show is that ody has become a monster, has dealt with and left behind his humanity. We, as listeners, root for him. We give him grace because of his circumstances. Because he's the main character.

But for some reason, people don't give that same grace to the crew. They're human, their circumstances are awful too. They have no idea if they will get home, they aren't sure then can trust their captain anymore. They question things. They make mistakes. They cause the deaths of others. It's human, its that feeling you get when you think that maybe hope is lost after all, it's what this story is about. Mistakes and loss and blame.

People dislike Eurylochus because he opened the bag. But odysseus gave the cyclops his name. And polites trusted the lotus eaters. And Athena told odysseus to be cruel to a fault. Nobody here is innocent, not really. And none of them knew better either. They were working with what they had, with the terrible circumstances at hand. It's no wonder they made mistakes. It's no wonder people died.

Why are we ignoring the humanity of the crew? Why are we arguing that they, or that eurylochus, deserved it? If the story was about them, odysseus would be seen as the bad guy. But he's the main character, so the others are stupid and wrong, right? All that matters is that odysseus gets home, right? Even if it costs the lives of his crew. His crew who stopped trusting him when he stopped trusting them. His crew who he sacrificed to get home.

I think we're missing the point here. Odysseus did become a monster, and although we cheer for him getting home and Penelope and Telemachus forgive him, we have to acknowledge that he did do terrible things. Those men will never see their families again. Why are we erasing that humanity in them?

Humans do bad things for the sake of saving themselves or the ones they love. That includes Odysseus. That includes Eurylochus. That includes the crew. And that includes every other character in this musical.

[moonlit-dreamers]

honestly im really enjoying the plot in mgafs but especially bc of eclipse and how he is as a character

hes become something more neutral. he isnt a villain nor a "good guy". hes just. a guy. he doesnt even want to be here but he doesnt have much of a choice. he tolerates ppls existence as much as he can without exploding. he does care about ppl but he hides it under a guise of "im doing this for myself and anyone who benefits from this is just a side effect" and honestly i love that so fucking much. like. he very much gives a shit about earth and at one point emphasized that she would not get hurt. tho when questioned about it he dodges the question. in fact, every time someone brings up earth and how defensive he is he avoids it. i feel like not even he himself wants to confront how he feels

then theres also puppet. their relationship is like the extrovert adopting the introvert type thing (its also like that with earth but puppet is more forceful and the more "ur never getting rid of me" type). he, again, doesnt admit that he cares. and honestly he probably didnt give a flying fuck about her in the beginning. the main reason he even went on the whole quest to help with the other puppet was bc he would also be effected, even if he was in another dimension (also bc he didnt want it to hurt earth but shhhh). but now he does seem to show some form of concern towards puppet at certain times. its also incredibly entertaining to watch puppet keep pushing at his limits. makes me think of that one video where a crow kept fucking with an eagle. just kept nipping and getting in its face then running away. thats what it feels like lmao

also like. almost every time he defended someone theres always been some kinda excuse he could make that gives him an out with saying that it was also for his benefit. probably the only time he defended someone and wouldnt get personal benefit out of it was when he confronted ruin and told him to keep earth out of it. tho, luckily for him, nobody was there to witness it and question it (unless moon was there bc i dont remember it exactly >.>).

which, yes, probably a lot of things that he does is for his own benefit. but he'd be completely fine with abandoning the ppl he was helping. in multiple situations he didnt have to help them. he wouldve been just fine and able to get out of the situation without them making out with him. and yet he did. and yet he purposely made room for them to follow.

idk man. just watching him develop as a character and going from someone who didnt give a flying fuck about anybody into actually giving a bit of a shit is fascinating. also even more entertaining to see just how desperately he tries to hide it