#a culmination of grievances.

[digitaldollsworld]

Heartbreaking: Minor Inconvenience Makes Guy So So Angry

[ayingdidi]

The dumbass scene with Rhaenyra isn't Alicent's liberation arc; it's simply a shift in who holds her reins. Instead of men, it's Rhaenyra now.

Alicent's true liberation arc should have happened in S1 when she was actively beefing with everyone around her; she was plotting to have Rhaenyra’s treason acknowledged, scheming to outmaneuver Otto, and was not afraid to defy Viserys' wishes.

All of this culminated in the confrontation at Driftmark. That should have been the moment of Alicent's liberation—the point where her worst fears come to life, proving her right; Rhaenyra’s flaunting of her duty finally led to Alicent and her loved ones bearing the consequences.

Viserys, in the same breath as he coddled and protected Rhaenyra, demanded that Alicent let go of her grievances and make peace with the injustices she had endured. At that moment, Alicent realized she deserved better, so she snatched Viserys precious dagger and tried to stab the very woman he ordered her to reconcile with—the same woman who, moments earlier, had demanded that her son be tortured.

Alicent stabbing Rhaenyra should have been the ultimate rejection of Viserys—a moment where she finally broke free from his shackles. That should have been Alicent final stance against her jailor. Alicent refusing to bow to his demands, and is finally free to seek justice for herself.

This should have been Alicent's liberation arc.

[3amfanfiction]

Simon Finds a Toy

You had just moved to town when the serial killer who was passing through takes a shine to you. Simon/Reader, 3.5k

18+ cw: kidnapping, hobbling, spanking, animal death

March is practically over when everything goes wrong.

Running through an abandoned warehouse avoiding bodies was not how you saw your evening going.

When the first of you began disappearing into the dark, no one noticed. You didn't all know each other, it was one of those friend of a friend types of gatherings, with everyone separating into pre-formed cliques within the first hour.

It was a younger guy who had suggested exploring the old building a mile down the road—no surprise there. Per his words, he fancied himself an urban explorer. You hadn't seen him since the beginning, one of the first to go missing.

You weren't even supposed to be here tonight! You'd just moved into town and you were trying to make friends. When the pretty girl at the bakery invited you to hang out, you thought you were good. That maybe life wasn't so hard and setting down roots wasn't impossible.

Stupid—tempting the universe like that.

Whoever this guy was, he was massive. The kind of massive where if he barreled into you, you would be pancaked. You had watched him take a bear of a man (Jeremy? Jason? Maybe—all you can remember is he said he was a footballer) out half an hour ago—lifted, bent, and broken all in one smooth, brutal move.

It was as awe-inspiring as it was fear-inducing.

So you run.

You run and you hide until you're backed into a corner. He's found every other person and now it's your turn. You're bleeding and bruised, aching where you slammed into sharp corners and machinery in the dark.

This is it, the climax of your story, is anyone surprised that you run your mouth a little? You don't hold back as you tell him everything you think about him, every new fucked up thing this evening had presented, every grievance ever buried down under the veneer of civility.

Why is he just staring? You're caught, nowhere to go, and he's just … looking. He's got shark eyes—pools of inky black that suck you in. Drowning.

He decides to take you home with him.

This has to be a joke.

///

April brings cruelty in its change, where you're expected to learn the shape of the season.

Stop messing with these knots or you won't like the consequences.

How were you supposed to know this is what he meant? He said it exactly once; the first night in the truck when he hopped out after hours of driving just to find you with the rope halfway undone, eyes glaring at him from above your gag.

He grunted out his warning while retying it, calm as you please, as if it wasn't a bother to him one way or the other.

Looking back at it he was probably hoping you would ignore the warning, the psychopath.

The next morning he had to tighten them again after your long night spent fiddling but he didn't say anything—just adjusted the knots and walked back around to continue the drive. He hadn't stopped that day other than for gas and one bathroom break on the side of a cracked and potholed back road, where if there had been any traffic, they would've gotten quite the show.

He didn't even have the decency to take you into the trees.

You had gotten one hand completely out of the hog tie by the time you two reached your destination; this little tin-roofed shed with just enough room for him to pull all the way in and close the doors behind him was the only building you'd seen in hours.

He doesn't address your unbound hand—simply refastens it into the tie while ignoring how you had removed the cloth gag with your partial freedom. What follows is the culmination of days worth of you sitting in enforced silence, thinking up every creative thing you could call him. Unfortunately he ignores you cussing him out, and throws you over his shoulder to begin his trek through the woods.

He doesn't seem to mind you screaming your head off, at least other than making sure you don't do it directly in his ear. That got a sharp adjustment of your torso across his shoulder; your grunting wheeze in response not very demure.

Now you're here—staring at your hands. Or rather, your thumbs and where they were taped in little braces to stop you from moving them. Sweat and dirt making the skin itch beneath the bandages.

He told you you wouldn't like the consequences. He TOLD you. Did you think he was lying?

Well—kind of, yeah. What sort of monster breaks someone's thumbs?

Your stare turns into a glare, unseeing of anything around you until a heavy hand landing on your shoulder makes you jerk in surprise.

"Leave it, pet. No use thinking on it now," is grumbled down at you before he huffs in something resembling amusement as you lean sideways, trying to get out from underneath his grasp.

You've been waiting for the day when he loses his patience and murders you too, but it hasn't happened yet. Maybe he finds it entertaining when you act like a kicked dog around him.

Which is a funny thought considering he has a dog that damn near idolizes him.

He ignores him most of the time—takes care to feed and water him but that's the extent. No scratches behind the ear, no tummy rubs, no kisses between the ears. As if you needed another reason to hate this guy.

You watch him put together three plates, two in bowls and one on some kind of wooden board. You snort to yourself when you think of this guy enjoying a charcuterie board, ignoring him when he cocks an eyebrow back at you, waiting for an explanation that won't come.

At least you've gotten better at keeping your expression blank when he sets the two bowls on the floor, before taking his charcuterie board wanna-be into the dining room.

Asshole.

///

May saw flowers blooming and lessons learned.

You have use of your thumbs again. That's a win.

Puttering around this stupid cabin is driving you insane. You've learned a few things since you've been here—his name is Simon, he's military, he murders people in his free time, and his dog's name is Dog.

Fucking. Psychopath.

You're not allowed outside. Simon had told you this as he was unwrapping your thumbs for the last time, break yer ankles if ya even try f'r the door. So you don't. You make your displeasure known in other ways, pushing to see where the lines are, so you know where to press to cause the most damage.

He annoyingly stoic. Nothing you say seems to get a rise out of him and other than breaking an established rule—don't touch the rope, don't go outside, don't try and stab him with a kitchen knife—he leaves you to your own devices.

He's always around, hovering. He responds if you talk to him civilly, ignores you if you scream at him, and bends you over his knee if you start swinging.

The cup you threw at his head was ugly anyways.

You screamed yourself hoarse that first time he pulled you across his lap, other leg pinning yours down with a forearm pressed between your shoulder blades. You thrashed but could barely move, well and truly immobilized.

You began pleading as your pants were pulled down, begging him not to touch you, telling him you were sorry. He acted like he couldn't hear you.

The first slap was more shocking than anything. Your voice caught on a hiccup of air as his palm made contact, the fat around his strike rippling. You don't get a moment to process before he's smacked you three more times, alternating cheeks.

Eons later, after he's reached whatever preconceived end he had decided on, you're a limp, sobbing mess, your face pressed into the cushions, great gasping sobs rolling their way out of your chest.

He cleans your face before applying cooling balm to your skin and that was a greater gut punch than the spanking had been. He doesn't get to be both—he doesn't get to hit you over and over again and then hold the tissue while you blow your nose. You can't handle him being both.

You don't sit comfortably for days and a new rule is created—don't throw things inside the cabin.

///

You're allowed to eat at the table with him now, no more guarding your bowl from Dog who was surprisingly nimble. Simon and Dog have the same conversational aptitude so at least you can eat in peace.

That's another good thing he has going for him (are you going to go to hell for thinking of good qualities in a murderer?) he never stints on portion sizes.

You were quite pleased to realize you had stayed delightfully soft over the past couple of months. Locked in the cabin as you are, the only exercise you've gotten is for your tongue, which has been honed razor sharp by this point with the vitriol that never seems to cause as much damage as intended.

He was a decent cook too. Nothing insane, his meals were basic and limited by what he had stored in his kitchen and cellar, but you hadn't had a bad meal yet.

He left sometimes to restock. Or for other excursions. When it came time for him to leave you would be moved to the bedroom, regardless of how much you kicked and snarled, and a leg chain would be connected to a hook under the bed.

Those days were some of the worst. If he noticed the salt crusting the bed when he eventually returned he never said anything.

///

June saw the temperatures rise, tensions following suit.

You don't like to think about the start of summer.

You had a nervous breakdown one day when the heat was intense. Simon had gone to pick up food and he had left you unchained. You were standing in the living room, looking at the front door, free to walk through it whenever you wanted.

So why were you standing here?

Simon would be upset if you left the cabin. Its one of the rules, don't go outside, that you're supposed to follow. There are consequences if you don't follow the rules.

You ignore the tremble in your knees as your fingernails dig crescents into your palms, the door taunting you with its presence. You could do it; you should do it. Run. Get away, get to the police, have him thrown in jail.

You're going insane, you're losing your mind. Is any of this even real? Why are you still standing here?

In an attempt to get yourself out of the standstill you were in, you forced yourself to take a few trembling steps . . . towards the kitchen where you got yourself a glass of water, and ignored the door behind you that was taunting you by calling your name.

You taught Dog a few tricks instead.

Nothing crazy—sit, lay down, shake. Still, you were pretty proud. Something good came out of this.

You didn't make eye contact with Simon for a week once he was back.

///

July is sunburns and fingermarks left where you touch him.

All you see is Simon, he's all you talk to (that sometimes talks back), all you hear. Is it any surprise you said fuck it?

You remember reading something once that said humans required touch, if they didn't get it they'd go crazy. Heh. Maybe that's what happened to Simon, living up here in this cabin, hard to have anybody to touch.

So you bend first; you always bend first with Simon. Every day with him is a yielding in one way or another. You're not sure if you even know how to stand upright any longer.

It starts with a pat on the shoulder.

He had brought you back a puzzle book from his last murder spree. Some giant workbook with a dozen different types of puzzles. If you had any dignity left it would've been lost at how excited you got for that puzzle book.

So, you thanked him. You took the book, patted him on the shoulder, and then went to sit at the table to play with your new entertainment. Simple, simple, simple.

So explain how you ended up here.

Don't swallow, keep your throat open for me, don't you fucking swallow—fuck, fuck, fuck.

///

August was a sticky heat and you were careful not to dig too deep.

You had to butcher your first animal at the end of the summer months.

Simon was out on a short trip when the dog caught a fox. He came dragging it in just like his papa, proud of the innocent blood dripping from between his jaws, his own muzzle bleeding where sharp teeth and claws had sank in.

When you pried it from his teeth, you realized the fox was still breathing, little heart thrumming against your fingertips, vibrating at an almost continuous hum.

The dog's fangs had punctured its stomach. Organs and muscles ruptured and bleeding. Another mark in the 'just like papa' column. Not decent enough to kill cleanly. Have to play in it, enjoy it.

You knew what you needed to do but still you hesitated. Weren't you going to attempt to save it? It's what you would've done before. Before Simon, before this cabin, before the nightmares.

One hand held it firmly, keeping it from attacking out of fear or pain while you softly dragged the other through the damp fur of its back, attempting any sort of comfort.

You could see yourself in it; living your life with your own sharp little teeth as protection until something bigger came along. Something that saw you and decided you would taste best in its maw, your blood coating its throat.

It drug you as a prize back to its home, uncaring of the blood you leaked on the floor, the bile you spit at its feet. You wondered if it would hurt less, to be the dog.

You did the fox a favor when you sliced its neck. No more pain.

///

September saw the leaves changing and witnessed your further plummet into Simon's orbit.

He had been home for weeks. Continuously. No little camping trips, no missions, nothing. He was beyond pissed but it was his own damn fault for getting stabbed in the leg.

You had cackled when he came limping in, blood oozing through the fabric he'd tied tightly around the wound. Looks like his latest quarry had sharper teeth than he realized. Good for them.

Stitching him up was repugnant—he laughed in your face when you gagged at the blood that coated you up to your forearms and were thankful to wrap him up and be done with it so you could bathe. The blood left a stubborn stain under your fingernails for days.

After weeks of him following you around—touching you constantly, sticking his fingers in your mouth or in your cunt whenever he liked, eating the food you made for yourself—you were fit to burst.

Go find your next plaything, just get him out of my hair!

///

October saw the trees shedding their leaves, their bare branches showing through. It saw you without a mask of your own.

You were allowed outside when Simon was home. It had been such a subtle decline, you thinking of escaping, that you didn't notice it's absence until now, when you were watching the cold sun create shadows on the ground with no desire to wander father than the front porch.

You were allowed outside, you were no longer chained up when he left, you could leave. You could pack a bag, pick a direction, and walk. For however long you needed to.

But.

It was getting colder at night. You'd be out there for days if not weeks before you found a road to follow if you were lucky. Plus you had no idea which direction to go. What if you ended up deeper in the mountains?

What if you continued to lie to make yourself feel better?

///

November saw the winds begin to howl with your feral side howling along, music in the dark.

Simon was gone—getting the last of his energy out before you were snowed into the cabin with the winter storms that were starting up. The eerie howling having long become a background echo in your ears.

Dog had been acting strange all day. Staring out the windows, growling at the door, barking when the trees brushed the roof. You'd let him out to check several times but he always came back inside after circling the cabin.

Strange.

The sun had almost set when you saw movement outside the window, a dark mass moving between the trees, too deep in the dusk to make out.

Dog hadn't come back yet from his last perimeter check, leaving you alone inside the cabin. You watched out the window for several long moments, only hearing the wind moving through the trees.

A loud bang on the opposite side of the cabin had you looking away from the window with a start; when you looked back after a few short seconds, the shape was gone—faded back into the trees.

Your heart pounded in your chest, mouth drying up and palms becoming damp. You ducked out of sight of the window and creeped into the kitchen, pulling one of Simon's knives out of the knife block.

One benefit to living with a serial killer, his knives were always in pristine condition. You know if you needed to stab someone, this knife would be slicing through them like butter.

Pressing into a corner, your mind spun in rabid circles. Who was that outside? How did they find the cabin? Were they there to hurt you? Dog never came back in. What if they murdered him and left his body to rot in the leaves? Dog was a good boy, he didn't deserve that.

You gripped the knife tightly, steadying your nerves. You weren't going to be the victim again. You'd been there, done that and you knew how it played out. When (if you told yourself, it might not happen, they might leave, there might not be anyone out there) they came through the door, you would defend yourself. If someone came through that door, it means they killed Dog and they will be coming for you.

You took a deep breath while wedged into the corner with the door firmly in sight, holding your knife in front of you, ready to attack. You would do it. If they thought you wouldn't, they're about to be too dead to relearn.

The door opens between one heartbeat and the next, the wind's grasping fingers catching, causing it to slam back against the wall, a dark hulking mass standing on the doorstep. You pounce, screaming like a wild thing, knife flashing through the air. They snatch your wrist and wrench it behind your back, kicking the knife away.

Thought we were past this, pet.

Oh. It's just Simon.

The following let down had your body shaking like you'd spent all night out in the cold. Tremors wracked you from head to toe as you tried not to think about how readily you'd been to commit murder.

The last few moments replayed in your head as you breathed in a controlled manner, attempting to regain control of your body. It's only Simon, it's only Simon you repeat to yourself, self soothing, it's only Si—what?

Since when has the fact that it's Simon been comforting? Have you forgotten what he did to you?

No, of course not. You hadn't forgotten. You knew Simon wasn't the good guy of the story. You were simply happy for the devil you knew . . . right?

///

December saw the snow begin to fall, walls following suit.

Simon finished last minute preparations around the cabin, within ears reach all day, every day. You spent a lot of time trailing after him, watching him work. Helping occasionally when he'd hold out nails for you to pass him as needed, or holding a board steady as he cut.

You asked him questions—things you hadn't bothered wondering before, how long have you lived up here, do you have any family, what do you do for your job?

He answered truthfully, as far as you could tell. It made you offer pieces of yourself in return.

///

January saw the snow pack everything in, forced proximity tightening bonds.

You and Simon spent all day together, every day. He never ran out of stories to tell you about his past mission or murdering sprees. Listening to him talk, you realized he really did get rid of the annoying ones first. A strange thought to have with no feelings attached—you didn't even notice their absence.

///

February was dark. February was cold. Hadn't it always been you and simon?

///

March saw the snow melting, the sun waking earlier each day. When Simon left to stretch his legs, March saw a second body following along behind him.

Next

Story Repository || Main Repository

[pikahlua]

I mean at least with ochako, deku and shouto the author had them fight with the intention to try to save or understand himiko, tomura and touya. These characters were constructed under this little idea. But at the end none of them managed to do it and all the villains died as villains anyway and the ones that lived didn't change and afterwards the author decided to show a random kid being helped by an old lady as the proof of hero society changing or something. It felt cheap to me i guess.

"fight with the intention to try to save or understand himiko, tomura and touya" "But at the end none of them managed to do it"

...Do...do you really think they didn't manage to understand Himiko, Tomura, and Touya? Why? Why do you think that? I don't know how it could have been any clearer that understanding was achieved??

And I'm very concerned about this notion that "saving" these villains means they don't die and after surviving they completely change. Like, I'm sorry, but this confuses me the most about people who claim to be fans of the villains when they imply things like this. Think about what this would mean. Somehow these villains' grievances with society should have all been immediately and completely resolved and they change their tune like "Oops, guess I was wrong about everything ever! I love society now! Everything that happened to me was justified and I should never have complained! The heroes were right all along and I was just being silly! I will take steps for improving myself and rejoining this society that I used to hate because I mistakenly thought it wronged me!" Maybe that's not how you truly expected it to play out, but if Izuku, Ochako, and Shouto managed to talk-no-jutsu their villains in one go out of being villains, it would absolutely have come across that way. It would have been the message behind the culmination in Izuku and everyone "becoming the greatest heroes." It would have said yes, the status quo is good and correct, and people should just open up to the right people before they become villains and then they wouldn't be a problem for everybody.

What we get instead is the heroes coming to an understanding of what their villains' grievances are (again, why do you think this didn't happen?) and showing those villains that yes, there is at least one person in the world who understands them and wants to give them hope, that wants to make their lives easier. Tomura and Himiko both die with hope in their hearts. A piece of darkness inside each of the three of them is resolved by their respective heroes. Touya is granted his last wish to talk things out with his family before he dies. Himiko is faced with the question of incarceration or death, and she chooses death as a means of staying true to herself (i.e. her desire to never be caught, to live and die as she wants to). She also is able to live this new form of "love" in giving her blood to Ochako as she goes out. In destroying himself, Tomura also destroys the man who used him and was responsible for the existence of "that house" that represented all his trauma. Tomura also left a legacy for Spinner to continue in his absence and a question for Izuku to observe of society in the aftermath (which is why we see that moment with the old lady, who represented the legitimate grievance Tomura had with the society that failed to save him from AFO). All the villains maintain their LEGITIMATE grievances with society and refuse to bend to society's wishes, and thus their points, their ideals, their legacies live on. They endure within the hearts of others who are aggrieved by society, and they leave a stark impact on the heroes who couldn't change them. That's how we get Ochako dedicating her life to children's welfare. That's how we get Izuku telling all children they can be heroes whether or not they become pro heroes in the law enforcement system. That's how we get Shouto living a life where he can be and discover himself separate from the tainted legacy of his father. The lessons they take from their villains stay in their hearts forever because they are failures. Their failure was the point. They aren't perfect, they can't save everyone by themselves, they have to dedicate their lives to being the change society needs if they want to save more people, and their failures guide them in the directions where they can make that sort of impact.

Believe it or not, Crimson Riot says it best...

Yeah, that's right, the message has been prevalent in the story for a long time. It didn't come out of no where.

If the message feels cheap to you, I implore you (and EVERYONE) to engage in a thought exercise. Genuinely, try to imagine that someone in the world other than you finds the message of this story as not cheap but as earnest and meaningful and robust. Now imagine why this person would think that. What evidence is there in the manga that they would use to support it? What meaning would they derive from this ending? Try to understand the opposite point of view. Try to honestly engage with the text in this way. Horikoshi devoted a decade of his life to telling this story. Sure, some of it probably suffered from bad editing and weird changes due to elongating the story at times. It was a big story with a giant cast, and that can be a lot for any one person to manage perfectly over the course of 10 years. Maybe there are parts of the story that aren't as tight or clean as they could be. But, in good faith, please try to imagine WHY Horikoshi felt this story needed to be told. Try to imagine what message Horikoshi wanted to convey that matters to him. Don't just dismiss the ending out of hand because it doesn't immediately click for you. I think it's great you asked me about it, and I hope my answer gives you more to think about.

[afyrian]

ch. 1 - grievances and clay m.list

    the sun's rays permeate the shop's front window. it lingers in the room as the dust particles float throughout. you stare at the clay bowl in front of you. something about it seems off; the rim looks a little wavy, maybe there's not enough space at the bottom of the bowl. although grabbing out your measuring tape and your template don't seem to reveal either of those issues.

  even when you stare intently at it, your elbows resting on your knees, hands clasped in front of you, you can't see it. it looks so different and yet so similar to that of the other bowls. biting your lip, you stuff your earbuds in and let the nearly deafening song block out everything that's distracting you. 

  the light construction on the front of the store, the people lining up for onigiri miya, your lousy morning when trying to park. everything culminates into a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions as you push the wheel's pedal. it spins rapidly and you can finally see what the issue is, the base of the bowl is slightly too large. 

  to most, it wouldn't be noticeable, especially if they only saw this one. however, you can't help but immediately wet your hands and run them up the inside and outside of the bowl. pushing in slightly, you bob your head to the music, letting your free foot tap aimlessly against the vinyl flooring. 

  this moment, this morning routine is the only thing keeping you together right now. even with the slip on your forehead, drops on the floor that need cleaning, and the mess on your clothes, it's the greatest thing you've ever learned to do. it's relaxing (sometimes) and gives you a chance to think things over, it's your alone time-

  just as you find yourself happy with the bowl, someone's knocking at the back door. your eyebrows furrow slightly, gaze flickering to the clock. it's ten o'clock, your shipment of a new wheel was supposed to be coming. you groan slightly, shaking your head. you don't even have time to remove the bowl from the wheel as you rush for the door.

  you pull out your earbuds, setting them on a nearby table. pretty much everything within the shop has dried clay on it, another deep cleaning day coming. even the door handle has spots of clay on it, more caking on as you open the door, "hello?"

  "yeah, i'm here with your shipment, i've been told we need to bring it inside. this is the correct address for the pottery wheel, yes?"

  "yeah it is, thank you. i almost forgot it was coming in this morning!" you try to laugh off your poor time management, your smile falling as the delivery man keeps his stubborn frown in the same space. 

  "okay, haru, let's get that wheel out.." he grumbles to his younger coworker, slowly walking to the back of the moving truck.

  you bite your lip, taking in the fresh air. some mornings you get in at five and stay there until the end of the day. stepping outside and smelling food cooking, hearing the birds chirp, it is rather comforting. the only thing ruining it is the sound of a drill running. of customers out front raving about the reviews of onigiri miya.

  blocking it out some, you look around the back area of the shops, noticing another delivery truck nearby. it's emptying out fresh veggies and stored boxes of what you assume to be meat. you narrow your eyes, not even noticing the man standing beside you. he follows your eye sight and wonders why you're staring at it, his head slightly tilted.

  "everything okay?"

  "oh yeah- oh.. uh yeah, just wondering what they're delivering for the new restaurant," you barely look at him, not noticing his cap and apron, his arms crossed over his chest. 

  “you could just ask you know,” he leans towards you slightly, giving you a smile.

  only now do you give him a once over. he’s rather tall, his hair hidden from a baseball cap. some grey streaks escape from the bottom of the hat… onigiri miya’s logo embroidered into the front. your eyes open a little wider as you finally look him in his eyes. they’re grey, matching his hair and the monochrome look of his outfit. the only thing sitting out is an old rag on his shoulder.

  “oh you work there?”

  “i mean, you could say it, it’s my restaurant,” he shrugs his shoulders, looking back at the truck, gaze moving back towards you some, “hi, i’m miya osamu.”

  your lips part slightly, a few things running through your mind. firstly, he looks quite young to be owning his own restaurant. secondly, he watched you stare down his ingredients like you’re hardcore judging him. and thirdly, he keeps looking at you like some enigma. a mystery for him to solve and understand. 

  part of you wants to immediately tell him off for the loud noises and long lines and the odd look. however, a frog gets caught in your throat and attacking him makes your hands sweat, “uh you are? that’s- good for you. i’m l/n y/n, i own the earthen kiln, the pottery shop. i’m surprised you’ve opened your shop before the front is finished.”

  “yeah, thank you. due to the costs of improvements, i wanted to get opened quickly,” osamu looks over at you, noticing you looking at your own moving guys, them slowly bringing a large box down from the truck.

  “yeah that’s.. understandable. honestly, it can be rather loud at times, the construction and all of the customers. my customers preferred the quiet pace of the last restaurant…” you take in a deep breath, not wanting to make eye contact with your new neighbor.

  he nods slowly, unable to tell if you can see or not. osamu understands they’re loud, his customers can definitely hear that, but there isn’t much he can do. not until everything is finished and secure, “right, well they shouldn’t be too much longer. but i should be heading back inside to help finish cooking for the lunch rush.”

  “i have a class soon as a well.. just make sure you get your customers to calm down some,” you finally get a good look at his eyes, hoping it comes across as more than just a joke, your tone trying to stay lighthearted.

  “you do? well, this may help you look a little more professional,” osamu grabs the rag from his shoulder and bring it up to your forehead, wiping off the clay you had somehow gotten on there, “but of course it’s a pottery class, so that probably doesn’t matter much to them.”

  you can feel your heartbeat quicken as he reaches over, his finger touching your hair and upper forehead. however, you can’t help but feel like you could’ve been more assertive. to tell him just how much you dislike the constant noise, how it worries your typical customers for the future. but for now, the joking and unusual interactions will be enough.

a/n: so much happier with this :D hopefully you guys like it taglist: @causenessus @osakis-gf @eggyrocks @brkfclub @marisabel14

@bbybibi @etoiile @miyamoratsumuu @girlokarina @gsyche

@cherrypieyourface @zephestia

[mapsontheweb]

The Punic Wars, 264-146 BC

« Atlas historique mondial », Les Arènes, 2019

by cartesdhistoire

Rome and Carthage stood as the dominant powers in the western Mediterranean. Between these two influential states lay the island of Sicily. Situated at the crossroads of Europe and Africa, and bridging the eastern and western Mediterranean basins, Sicily held immense strategic importance. Rich in wheat and boasting a heritage of prosperity bestowed by both the Carthaginians in the west (in Palermo) and the Greeks in the east (in Syracuse), the island flourished. The Carthaginians established their capital at Lilybaea (modern-day Marsala) and maintained a major naval base at Drepane (modern-day Trapani).

In 264 BC, the onset of the First Punic War marked the first engagement of Roman legionnaires outside of Italy. While battles were fought in open fields, guerrilla warfare, and sieges, the defining feature of this conflict lay at sea. The pivotal Battle of the Aegate Islands in 241 BC resulted in the defeat of the Carthaginians, triggering another conflict, the far more perilous Mercenary War, on African soil. Fueled by grievances over unpaid wages, mercenaries and local allies revolted against Carthage, plunging the region into turmoil until order was restored by Hamilcar in 238 BC. A peace treaty with Rome was signed on March 10th.

The Second Punic War, commencing in 218 BC, was marked by an intriguing characteristic: personalization. The conflict became synonymous with the personalities of Scipio, later known as "the first African," and Hannibal, one of history's greatest military commanders. Hannibal's audacious invasion of Italy, driven by a desire to avenge Carthage's honor, catalyzed the war's escalation.

The war culminated in the Battle of Zama in 202 BC, leading to the signing of a final treaty in 201 BC. From this point forward, Rome emerged unchallenged in the Mediterranean. However, it wasn't until 197 BC that the Senate formally established the two provinces of Spain.

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

The devastating thing to contend with regarding Veilguard is that you are left with two choices:

1) You accept that the story we’ve been waiting a decade for to conclude ended with the lore retconned, our memorable characters flanderized and misused, the world itself far less impressive and interesting and unique than it had originally set itself up to be.

or

2) You disregard Veilguard. You pretend it doesn’t exist, and that means the story is forever incomplete. You don’t receive closure. You don’t receive that last wave of clever, intricate, intriguing, wonder-evoking dynamic writing culminating in a world-shattering conclusion that we’ve been building up for 15 years. Solas and Lavellan are never reunited. The question of Solas’s past, the true nature of the Evanuris, and Solas’s relationship with them remains unknown. The enslaved elves of Tevinter remain sitting in chains. The hinted-at fragmentation and divestment of certain pockets of Dalish and city elves to Solas’s cause remain a potential interpersonal culture war stuck in stasis. Your world state is in eternal limbo, sitting on the hazy precipice of a climax that will never trigger. You as a fan will never have the opportunity to thrust yourself into a rich, magical, poignant universe of political intrigue, culture clashes, historical grievances, metaphysical and philosophical arguments, and relatable moral and ethical struggles to rise from the dirt, dusty and panting, and feel that relief and bittersweetness and mourning of an epic finally reaching a long-awaited end.

It is the fact I have to lie to myself in order to keep what I originally enjoyed so much about Dragon Age alive in my heart. I have to actively delude myself and pretend this game doesn’t exist because it actively and aggressively subtracts and undermines from all that came before it and in doing so retroactively ruins all the enjoyment I derived from the series. The furious debates we had, the essays we wrote for each other analyzing symbolism, characters, personal motivations, the parallels to real life politics regarding classism, racism, colonization, imperialism, marginalization, the nature of power, the nature of memory and history, oppression, legacy, vengeance, justice, love, hate, ambition..

I am not saying that because we were ardent fans that we somehow spiritually or informally own the Dragon Age IP. I’m not trying to come off as entitled, but this is absolutely unacceptable. It is a slap in the face. To say it is a departure from the previous games in tone, feel, and writing is like saying bulldozing a ghetto with citizens still in their beds in order to make room for a heat-trapping super highway is a case of radical “urban planning”.

We were so hopeful. We were so optimistic. We needed to be, because the alternative was despair.

And they gave us this generic fantasy Action-“RPG” with Dragon Age as the negligible setting. It is negligible, because all of the uniqueness of Dragon Age has been filed down to appeal to potential newcomers who want nothing more than a vague fantasy setting with puddle-deep lore that they could easily ignore if they wished so they could get back to hacking away at mobs and demons with shiny combat mechanics; the romances are tacked on and shallow, the character writing as insightful and engaging as a 90s arcade Beat ‘em up. The “Dragon Age” in Dragon Age: The Veilguard is a costume, an excuse, a misnomer. With this entry, Bioware/EA have established they care more for action than RPG, that deep, genuine storytelling that can make an IP a household name is not nearly as lucrative or worthwhile as endlessly chasing gaming trends and trying to appeal to new fans by being hip and cool.

But if you sit down and are honest with yourself, could anyone have been able to tie all the threads together in a satisfying way? The people currently left at Bioware certainly couldn’t, but could the entire old crew have helped steer this in the right direction? Was this story simply too epic, the plot threads too numerous, the concepts too far-reaching for adequate exploration to be satisfied with a single new game entry? It stretches belief. But perhaps if that 70% of effort devoted to combat had been instead implemented into the story (rather than the 7% it was allotted. The other 23% was on other bullshit) I’d be thinking differently. The story was what brought Origins to life. Character relationships and the direness of the moral shitshow of the mage oppression were what saved DA2 from being mediocre; the companion romances and the revelations from the Trespasser DLC were what saved Inquisition from being another honestly half-baked entry.

Writing is why Dragon Age fans accumulated. Writing is what made us stay. Writing is what made us hope and pray for a fourth game. And now writing is what has invalidated all of our collective time and efforts in ever daring to give a shit about this world and these fictional characters.

In order for my love of this series to not be snuffed out like a flame in a blizzard, I need to be delusional. I need to pretend this game doesn’t exist. And that means I need to live with a self-imposed false sense of mourning for something that never came to be, because what *did* come to be—what actually exists in reality—is more devastatingly heartbreaking and . It hurts either way. You just have to choose which hairshirt to wear and wear it.

All of our theorizing and hypotheses and headcanons are now retroactively emboldened by a newfound sense of superiority since we were positing them from a place of genuine desire to see a well crafted and thematically sound and intriguing story. But for people like me, no amount of headcanons and fan works can truly compare to a video game or comic or book that crafts a competent, even exemplary, addition to the Dragon Age story.

I am sad and disappointed that I wont be able to play that game and bask in the glory of good storycraft. It’s one thing to read it in a fanfiction, it’s another for it to be in an officially licensed piece of media. It feels more real that way, and because what we got is so lackluster, fanfiction has to serve as the less filling ersatz. It’s somewhat nourishing to me, but it isn’t what I truly crave. I WANTED the story and writing to have been good in Veilguard, but it ISN’T, and no there isn’t any way to just ask them to withdraw the game and come back with something better. This is what we got. This is what they decided to do with something so integral to our lives. It sucks how much it hurts because it is just a video game at the end of the day, but fuck if it doesn’t make the bugs crawl over my brain in lament over this monumental blunder of something I held so near and dear to my heart.

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

The final quest title of cyno’s story quest 2 being entitled ‘The Dead Past is the Living Present’... now i have many thoughts!

on the whole, this is in direct reference to Cyno and Cyrus’s relationship and their connection to The Temple of Silence and Sethos, as well as the ancient past of Sumeru, such as Tighnari’s lineage. these ties all stem from past close, or familial, connections, especially with how sethos is described to be like cyno's brother - so it’s also interesting when applying this quest title to Alhaitham and Kaveh

Alhaitham and Kaveh’s ‘dead past’ would be their initial friendship, and their joint thesis, dissolved due to their respective ideas of “correctness”. As this notion of pride has been overturned (which i've written more about here), however, they have been able to reconcile, and this has manifested in them willingly working together once more – which can be observed in cyno commenting on the unlikeliness of this in the House of Daena

Alhaitham and Kaveh’s connection to the House of Daena is something repeatedly observed in relation to their relationship. For example, the two first meet in the House of Daena:

They have their first interaction witnessed by the player in the Archon Quest within the House of Daena:

Kaveh’s interaction with Alhaitham occurs in the House of Daena in his Hangout:

And in cyno’s story quest 2, the two are left in charge of the House of Daena in order to research together.

This is such a noticeable difference as compared to their usual rapport that the only reference to their improved relationship is made by cyno, where he comments on his disbelief in seeing Alhaitham and Kaveh actively studying together.

their ‘living present’ appears to have culminated here, where they first met in the House of Daena, in cyno's story quest 2 they have now accepted their past grievances and actively aim to further reconcile in combining their efforts in researching together once more.

in current game, Alhaitham and Kaveh’s relationship has softened considerably, and a new understanding seems to have been established between them. Within their dead past being the living present, the two work in tandem; they research together, spend time together in, and out, of their shared home, and the bitterness is completely gone from their dialogue. It is shown that they respect, and listen, to the other's opinion, and work off of each other in order to form conclusions. Here, the two have rediscovered family within each other <3333

(This analysis snippet is from my Haikaveh queercoding essay found here!)

[fauxmystique]

Dungeoneer's Guide to Monstrous Races

Chapter 2: Gnolls Now I must admit, dear readers, that I am biased here. Gnolls are a particular fascination of mine, and though I seek to omit any biases from these entries, my inherent glee in their existence may peek through every once in a while. Gnolls are a tall (7 ft average) bipedal/quadrupedal species closely related to awakened hyenas. Typically each gnoll is as strong as two standard humans, though much less creative. They are brutish, crude, and throw fantastic parties. As long as you don't mind the ensuing orgy and possible cannibalism.

Gnoll packs are typically found to the south of great deserts upon the savannas and plains of the world. Unlike goblins, gnoll birth genders are more statistically distributed, including intersex members.

Aside from the inherent danger in having a 7 foot tall hyena-man that can punch through a tree trunk, every gnoll is capable of SOME basic magic. Though most cannot cast spells, they each have the aptitude to craft HEXES and CHARMS. Adventuring Guilds usually attempt to clear out gnoll nests before they can become too entrenched, as after a few months the areas they inhabit are so full of minor negative effects that any who set foot in them become almost immediately lost, ensnared, and used for sport.

Gnolls are a playful people, for the most part. They take great delight in games and napping, as well as the eating of "fine meals". Oftentimes they trade with lizardmen who dwell in swamps nearby for various kinds of meats to use, as both species are carnivorous by nature.

Gnolls revere the natural world to a fetishistic degree. They willingly allow themselves to be charmed by Fey creatures, as they share a delight for games and recreation (as well as being fantastic in the art of bestial lovemaking which some Fey enjoy).

It is recommended that no less than 3 rank 2 adventurers attempt to kill a gnoll, for as soon as you kill one you will have to contend with the rest of the pack. They are fiercely loyal to one another, and do not forgive ANY grievance, no matter how slight. Fortunately, they take payment immediately and in kind, meaning that they will usually take one of the adventurers as recompense for the packmate they lost.

Being captured by a gnoll clan is not a pleasant experience, by any stretch of the imagination, and usually involves several months of unintentional psychological warfare. The HEXES they frequently make for fun (which do not affect them) turns the mind to mush and the legs to jelly, until all you can do is beg for more. Eventually this culminates in the unfortunate begging to be turned into a gnoll themselves, thus gaining the pack a new and powerful member. It is recommended that, should a party member need to be sacrificed, the order of operation is thus:

Elves first, then the healer, then the tank, then the mage. Under no circumstances should a Necromancer be allowed to be captured by a gnoll pack.

Ah, I have digressed. The social structure of a gnoll pack is a loose hierarchy wherein the most magically gifted typically "rule". The Gnoll Shaman advises the Gnoll Pack Leader (who may very well be MORE powerful than the Shaman themselves). There is also usually a roughshod council of sorts, consisting of the "best" gnolls in the tribe. I have my own names for these roles, but to use gnoll terminology: The Big, The Bad, and The Soft. Hilarious, I know.

"The Big" refers to the largest, most physically powerful gnoll in the pack. A Gnoll Big can typically take 5 human foot soldiers in combat.

"The Bad" refers to the most playful member of the pack. Likely a trickster, this one is always getting into trouble and making a mess of things. Their input is usually used to decide what NOT to do.

"The Soft" is the most dangerous of the three. Gifted in black alchemy and trained by both the Pack Leader and the Shaman, the Gnoll Soft is both the stealthiest and the most cunning of the group. A Gnoll Soft is almost always a female rogue adventurer who has been turned, though sometimes a normal gnoll can manifest these tendencies as well.

[mariacallous]

In May, pro-independence demonstrations spread across New Caledonia, a small Pacific island territory that has been ruled by France since 1853. Waving the flags of the Indigenous Kanak people as well as the flag of the pro-independence Socialist National Liberation Front, demonstrators took to the streets to protest voting reform measures that would give greater political power to recently arrived Europeans.

Curiously, however, they also waved another flag—that of Azerbaijan. Although the similar colors of the New Caledonian and Azerbaijani flags led some to speculate whether the demonstrators had inadvertently acquired the wrong flag, other observers viewed the presence of the Azerbaijani flag as an indication of ideological support from Baku.

It turns out, the Azerbaijani flags were not mistaken. Since March 2023, Baku has strategically cultivated support for the New Caledonian independence movement under the guise of anti-colonial solidarity. As payback for French diplomatic backing of Armenia after Azerbaijan’s 2020 invasion of Nagorno-Karabakh, Baku has disseminated anti-French disinformation related to New Caledonia. Following the outbreak of protests this May, France publicly accused Azerbaijan of doing so.

Baku’s influence campaign successfully inflamed long-simmering hostilities toward French descendants in New Caledonia, culminating in violent demonstrations and riots, which triggered a visit by French President Emmanuel Macron—as well as French police forces—even though Macron ultimately issued a de facto suspension of the reforms.

The incident in New Caledonia is hardly an isolated one. Anti-colonialism, which rose as a powerful ideological force during the 1960s and 1970s, is having a resurgence, and its philosophical underpinnings continue to shape some of the biggest geopolitical crises of the day, from Gaza to Ukraine. But unlike the decolonization movements of the Cold War era, this wave is being driven by opportunistic illiberal regimes that exploit anti-colonial rhetoric to advance their own geopolitical agendas—and, paradoxically, their own colonial-style land grabs.

The basic aims of the decolonization movement during the Cold War were twofold: securing national independence for countries colonized by the West and preserving sovereignty for postcolonial countries in Africa, Asia, and Latin America, whether through armed struggle or ideological diplomacy. Focused on ending the Vietnam War and fighting white minority rule in southern Africa, the movement quickly became the cause célèbre of the international left.

Despite divergent views on economic and social issues, the movement’s proponents coalesced around a central belief that Western imperialism, particularly the U.S. variant, singlehandedly held back the advancement and development of what was then known as the third world—ignoring the fact that many anti-colonial movements often had their own internal issues of graft and corruption. Disheartened by the West’s history of imperialism, many on the left even embraced authoritarian leaders, such as Zimbabwe’s anti-colonial freedom fighter-turned-despot Robert Mugabe and even former North Korean dictator Kim Il Sung.

Today, the anti-colonial movement is less about securing independence for the few remaining colonial outposts or debating the proper developmental pathway for countries in the global south. Bolstered by powerful state-backed media corporations in the capitals of authoritarian states, the current movement is largely a Trojan horse for the advancement of global illiberalism and a revision of the international rules-based order.

Authoritarian governments in Eurasia have taken their influence operations to social media, where they hope to inflame grievances—possibly into actual conflicts—to divert the attention of Washington and its allies from areas of strategic importance. This is the case for not only Azerbaijan, but also for China in sub-Saharan Africa, as well as Iran, which provides financial support to anti-Israel protest groups in the United States.

But more than any other country, it is Russia that is attempting to ride the resurgent anti-colonial wave and position itself as a leading voice of the global south. Russian leadership describes itself as the vanguard of the “global majority” and claims to be leading ��the objective process of building a more just multipolar world.”

After his visit to Pyongyang in June, Putin wrote in North Korea’s main newspaper that the United States seeks to impose a “global neo-colonial dictatorship” on the world. In the United States, several Russians alleged by prosecutors to be intelligence agents have been accused of funneling financial support to an anti-colonial Black socialist group to promote pro-Russian narratives and justify Russia’s illegal military actions in Ukraine. And in regard to New Caledonia, Russian Foreign Ministry spokeswoman Maria Zakharova fanned the flames when she said in May that the tensions there stemmed “from the lack of finality in the process of its decolonization.”

Moscow’s primary stage to project itself as the spearhead of a new global anti-colonial movement is Africa. During the Cold War, the Soviet Union provided ideological and military support to numerous national liberation movements and anti-colonial struggles in sub-Saharan Africa on the grounds of proletarian internationalism and socialist solidarity. According to a declassified 1981 CIA report, Namibia’s SWAPO guerilla group received nearly all of its arms from the Soviet Union, and Soviet military personnel trained South African anti-apartheid guerrillas in Angola-based training camps. Moscow also trained and educated a large number of African independence fighters and anti-colonial rebels at Communist Party schools and military institutes back in the Soviet Union.

This legacy of Soviet internationalism and socialist goodwill generated lingering sympathy for the Kremlin, and Russia continues to be widely perceived as a torchbearer of anti-colonial justice and national independence on the continent, particularly in the Francophone Sahel region. Before his death in August 2023, former Wagner Group leader Yevgeny Prigozhin blamed instability in the Sahel on Western interventionism, saying, “The former colonizers are trying to keep the people of African countries in check. In order to keep them in check, the former colonizers are filling these countries with terrorists and various bandit formations. Thus creating a colossal security crisis.”

Despite Moscow’s own imperialist legacy and its current war of recolonization in Ukraine, Russia is increasingly seen as an anti-Western stalwart in the Sahel and a key supporter of anti-French political movements. Kremlin-backed mercenaries from the Wagner Group’s successor, Africa Corps, have supplanted French security services as the primary counterinsurgency force for fragile West African governments. And in addition to the counter-insurgency operations, Russian mercenaries have provided personal protection for key African military and government leaders.

But the shift from French to Russian interventionism in the Sahel raises the question of just how much national sovereignty the governments in the affected countries have.

Military juntas in West Africa exploit anti-French sentiments among the general public in order to obscure the fact that they are merely relying on a different foreign state for regime security, effectively trading one colonialist power for another. Most importantly for the juntas, unlike the French, the Russian security forces have no qualms about violently cracking down on political dissent and committing war crimes. For example, in late March 2022, Russian mercenaries assisted the Malian military in summarily executing around 300 civilians in the Malian town of Moura, according to Human Rights Watch.

With its colonial baggage, France has struggled to penetrate pro-Russian propaganda in its former African colonies. For instance, Afrique Média, an increasingly popular Cameroon-based television network, often echoes the Kremlin’s positions on international events. In April 2022, Afrique Média promoted a Russia-produced propaganda video that depicted a Russian mercenary escaping his African jihadi captors and then revealing U.S, and French flags behind an Islamic State flag, suggesting that these Western countries are supporting religious extremists.

Russia’s anti-colonial crusade belies its efforts to advance its own political and economic interests. Moscow’s efforts in Africa are borne from a desire to undercut Western influence in the region; shore up diplomatic support for itself in multilateral forums, such as the United Nations; and reinstate Russia’s reputation as a global superpower. Moscow may also seek to secure access to Africa’s vast natural resources, including criterial minerals, and take advantage of illicit networks, such as illegal gold mining, to circumvent international sanctions and fund its war in Ukraine.

Authoritarian regimes, including those in Russia, China, and Azerbaijan, would not exploit anti-colonial rhetoric if it did not continue to resonate in the global south. Long-standing economic disparities with the global north and painful histories of Western interventionism, especially the post-9/11 U.S. wars in the Middle East, have fostered sympathy for revisionist authoritarian regimes. The current humanitarian crisis in Gaza has heightened feelings of Western hypocrisy among some commentators and public figures in the global south.

As Kenyan journalist Rasna Warah explains, “There is deep sympathy and support [in the West] for Ukrainians who are being bombed and made homeless by Russia but Palestinians being killed and being denied food and water are seen as deserving of their fate.”

Therefore, it is crucial for Western governments to acknowledge the shortcomings of the current international liberal order to governments in the global south, rather than attempting to gaslight them into believing that it is equitable and just. The Western-led international order has a long history of violence and instability in the developing world. The trauma of Western imperialism and colonialism should not be forgotten but rather reworked into developmental programs that help to build robust institutions and infrastructure in the global south.

For example, Germany’s joint declaration with Namibia in 2021, which acknowledged the genocide of the Herero and Nama peoples between 1904 and 1908, committed $1.2 billion over the next 30 years to funding aid projects in Namibia, which are more likely to have a long-lasting positive effect on the development of Namibian institutions than individual financial handouts to descendants of colonial-era violence.

In the near term, the United States and its Western allies should actively counter propaganda from Baku, Tehran, Moscow, and Beijing that seeks to portray these nations as free from interventionist pasts. Exposing their disinformation campaigns in the global south—starting with labeling social media accounts linked to state-run media—could help to alert the public to the presence of bad-faith actors, who exploit genuine anti-colonial grievances for their own political and economic goals.

While the Soviets were certainly no saints, there was a genuine internationalist and collectivist spirit in their interactions with the Cold War anti-colonial movement. The same cannot be said for Russia today.

[lollytea]

low hanging fruit but Willow for the character thingy :]

How I feel about this character

She is like a squeaky stress toy to me. I like to give her problems. I like to give her treats. She's become deeply special to me. She has melded herself to my insides and has basically become another one of my internal organs. She's also a character who has made me extra passionate about the concept of writing teenage girls as their raw, messy, complicated selves. I think a lot about Willow's trauma. I think a lot about her internalised insecurities that she'll never truly recover from but she can definitely learn to handle better. I think a lot about her rage. About her patience and wisdom. About her silliness. Willow just has SO many layers that I'm always flipping through her like a book. She is my favourite book.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

My non-romantic OTP for this character

It's very hard to choose!! Willow and Gus have this bond that's like. The school's most levelheaded dunce and the school's most reckless prodigy. Two bullied, isolated kids who took care of each other when nobody else did. They mean so much to me!!!

Also her dynamic with Amity has the potential to be so rough around the edges but imbued with so much love and yearning and hurt and betrayal and lack of communication and UUGGGHH!!! It's so fascinating, I love it!!

My unpopular opinion about this character

I dont think I have any opinion thats unpopular? Umm. I love to focus on her flaws I guess. I feel like sometimes they're overlooked bit in favour of focusing on what a strong independent kind loving sweet funny tragic young girl she is. Not that there's anything wrong with that. That is a huge chunk of her personality. But it would be cool to see some spotlight given to her occasional pettiness, her anger management issues, her tendency to keep her grievances to herself rather than communicate them because she's so averse to confrontation I feel like these are the nitty gritty details that are super fun to incorporate into a Willow characterization. But like. That's not me criticising the way she's usually interpreted. This is fandom. People can do whatever they want.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Yknow....I probably would have been left wanting so much more for Willow if FTF didn't come along and give me everything I could have wanted for her. So I'm honestly pretty satisfied.

I guess, if anything, I wish Willow's negative emotions causing her magic to go haywire had been a bigger issue over the duration of the show, rather than just little hints here and there culminating in the big FTF meltdown. Like I know she was just a secondary character but an episode or two delving into Willow's relationship with her magic and her emotions would have been really cool. Like it must be scary for a little girl, right? To feel like a bomb waiting to explode? I wonder if she was ever afraid of herself.

[labyrynth]

my attempt at beandumping about nhs’s hypothetical descent into resentment towards jgy without necessarily knowing abt jgy’s involvement in nmj’s death was getting way too long and borderline. poetic? kind of character study-ish? so here’s another attempt that is hopefully more succinct

the very basic idea of it is that nhs, in his grief, looks to blame someone for nmj’s death, and intentionally or not, jgy was ultimately what set nmj careening into fatal deviation.

so nhs, devastated and grieving, privately blames jgy for nmj’s death…and then begins to spiral.

nmj’s death could have been avoidable if only—if only nmj had not been so enraged.

but nmj is a just man—he is—so his anger is justified: nmj’s anger isn’t his own fault. it’s jgy’s fault. jgy made him angry.

and not just in that final moment.

qi deviation needs to build. and jgy has been making nmj angry for a long time, and nmj could not help but be angry. all of that emotional volatility and dysregulation affected nmj’s qi, slowly but surely sending him into qi deviation.

there’s a bit more—a sense that the only time nmj showed destructive/violent anger against nhs was because jgy incited him to it; that jgy should have done more to quell the deviation using clarity; that jgy was arrogant to presume he could stand on the level of lan xichen, etc. mostly hinging on nhs refusing to believe nmj could be in the wrong, or resenting jgy for not being able to stop it.

(this is by no means an exhaustive list of possible grievances or sources of resentment—there are plenty of additional areas for resentment to fester.)

all culminating in his final conclusion: whether or not jin guangyao murdered nie mingjue, nie mingjue is still dead because of jin guangyao

still at a loss about qin su and sisi though ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[9w1ft]

lord you made me feel importunt..

so basically… i feel like taylor is singing from karlie’s perspective in WCS. and i think she is addressing two people— taylor and josh.

i imagine this song as the culmination of a lot of arguments and negotiations between the three of them over the years about how to proceed with things. i think it’s not too wild to imagine that karlie has been caught in the middle of the two of them a lot, in terms of emotional labor. i don’t have a specific time pinpointed for this song but maybe it is the “night i nearly lost you” that taylor talks about in the great war. it was karlie finally reaching her boiling point, and airing her grievances at both of them.

judging by interviews and karlie’s overall persona and demeanor, i think that karlie is the type of person who puts others before herself, and doesn’t easily let things get to her. so i imagine that when she does get angry enough to raise her voice, that it’s very jarring and would stick with you.

here is a selection of lines that i draw parallels with, which, in aggregate, make me think wcs fits more in the kaylor narrative than anything about jm:

years of tearing down our banners // tore our banners down took the battle underground

living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts // i knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired

if i never blushed, then they could've never whispered about this // they whisper in the hallway, "she's a bad, bad girl"

if you never touched me, i would've gone along with the righteous // touch me and you’ll never be alone

and if i was some paint, did it splatter on a promising grown man? // you paint dreamscapes on the wall

i keep on waiting for a sign // you never gave a warning sign (i gave so many signs)

stained glass windows in my mind, i regret you all the time // you say what a mind, this happens all the time

i miss who i used to be // remind her how it used to be

the tomb won’t close // spineless in my tomb of silence

memories feel like weapons // we can plant a memory garden

some other small points are..

i think she sings with a certain tone to her voice that reminds me of karlie. her emphasis on the word “important” reminds me of how karlie famously pronounces that word funnily, and there are a few expressions that remind me of how people in the midwest/southern united states speak “damn sure never would’ve” “but lord you made me feel” “god’s honest truth” “god rest my soul” etc

plus, karlie was introduced to josh at 19 years old so. there’s that parallel too.

so given these things i think the first verses might be addressed to josh and the second verse to taylor and maybe the third is to both of them. “if clarity’s in death than why won’t this die? years of tearing down our banners you and i” at her and “living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts give me back my girlhood it was mine first” at him

and a sidenote: following a similar framework i actually think it’s possible that illicit affairs is also from karlie’s perspective directed at the two of them.. “don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby”

i also think it’s sort of important that both of them are older than karlie, in terms of the dynamics. i feel like maybe it had made karlie feel like a toy or pawn or not listened to… or that the way they talked about what karlie should do—their style of communication when risk assessing—might have felt too clinical at times. the muse as object. and over time, perhaps she looked back and wondered, was this right? should i have gone along with everything like i did? or was it just what i grew up knowing?

listening to the song this way makes me incredibly emotional.. getting so close to being together publicly indefinitely, all the praise and centering of karlie as the hero and centerfold of taylor’s life during 1989 era, only for the backtracking and erasing. one might also say we were starting to get flickers of this with early lover era. years of tearing down banners.

so yeah… and, we count renegade as written from her lover’s perspective because of the tn tweet,

so i think it’s not that far out to assume she wrote other songs with karlie’s perspective too

just this idea of taylor taking the time to explore her muse’s perspective.

so yeah, this is my thought.

[ternasyl]

Just a few quick thoughts on TMAGP

Magnus Protocol is easily the podcast I've been most excited for, and it DOES mostly deliver, making me feel vindicated in my excitement. I look forward to each new episode in a way I rarely do with any ongoing series, be it a podcast or something, and that is really nice. That being said...

I do have a few grievances with it as a whole, honestly. The statements are probably the elephant in the room - I feel like we haven't gotten a single properly scary statement such as the ones from early-to-mid TMA. Not only that, but most statements don't get nearly as intricate and complex as the TMA ones - the ones in TMAGP very much feel just like reports of isolated odd incidents, while TMA felt more like an actual horror anthology where the individual stories eventually start coming together into a coherent larger framework. I think I wouldn't mind either of these things separately, but as things currently stand, I do feel like there hasn't really been anything as memorable as the statements from early TMA yet. I *do* like Bonzo and I also thought the scary movie episode was fun, but... I dunno. I can't help but feel like the statements lack bite overall.

I do actually like the bigger focus on the main cast and their interactions with TMAGP's world, though. I suppose that the weaker statements are partly due to the fact we're getting more screentime for everything else.

I've also been feeling a bit underwhelmed by the post-hiatus episodes' contents - pre-hiatus TMAGP absolutely had a lot of bombshells per episode, so it's quite weird following that up with several episodes where barely anything happens. I do feel like we're kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it's still odd. Maybe I'm just a cranky bitch who doesn't care terribly much about Sam's romantic troubles, who knows? Wish the episodes were juuust a bit longer, honestly.

I think it's very very funny how you can simply tell I'm writing this moments after finishing episode 14 - it really does feel like the current culmination of my issues with the podcast.

All of this in mind, though, I do have to say that I'm still very much hooked and am not likely to fall off anytime soon. The production is insane, the creepy old computer aesthetic rules, and I'm VERY curious to see how this new setting differs from TMA's and what they could even do with a story like this which they didn't already do in TMA. Protocol has so so much promise and I really hope it won't only live up to it, but exceed it. Erm. What else can I say. Alice is endearingly annoying and I like her a lot more than I expected. Gwen is my oomfie. Colin may have not appeared at all within the past few episodes but that is because he is currently very busy with being my boyfriend. Gootbye.

[waitingawhile]

i want to stick them in a bottle and shake it. they loved each other for the fantasy they could provide: of safety, security, someone who couldn't leave, proof you could help another person, the escapism of being loved. they were scared of each other. the empty mansion

they were scared of each other ohhhhhh you get it. I think escapism is great word to describe c!beeduo’s relationship.

(rest below the cut because for the love of everything I can’t shut up)

Do I think they found genuine comfort and companionship in each other? At times yes. But I think the more they began memorializing those feelings in marriage (/p or /r, though I especially like this particular read with a /r flavor) the further they got from the feelings themselves. I think despite Tubbo’s character being very blunt at times and seemingly not filtering his thoughts before he speaks them, both he and Ranboo suffered deeply from avoidance as a coping mechanism and poor communication full of half-truths.

Neither of these characters are comfortable with discomfort. While Ranboo grows throughout the story enough to show us that they can bloom out of their need to please and mediate at all times—i.e. the sass & attitude they are able to show with people like Techno, Phil, and even Tubbo, the assertiveness they are able to show in defense of their friends transforming into assertiveness for themself as well, etc.—they are still prone to switch back to their people-pleasing tendencies when faced with uncertainty.

Similarly, while Tubbo did not start out on the server as a people-pleaser, he had to learn to be one once he served under Schlatt, had to learn to de-escalate, to mediate, and to be attuned to an abuser's cues to follow them, and attuned to their triggers to avoid them. The same could be said of his time away from Manberg having to navigate Wilbur's emotional state in Pogtopia with Tommy, though he encountered this less often. With his time under Schlatt culminating in the ultimate consequence of a canon death for his grievances, Tubbo has never really been able to shake this habit off.

When he is appointed as president of New L'Manberg, the stakes only seem to get higher for him, as he has to apply the survival skills he learned as an abuse victim in a diplomatic setting. He is a cautious leader, aiming first and foremost to avoid involving NLM in any conflicts, but sometimes ignoring real issues as a result until they boil over into something he can no longer control. At the same time, he develops an ability to be commanding when necessary, has to learn as a leader that sometimes he will make choices that no one else agrees with, and he will need to be able to exert a level of control over his people that ensures they follow his lead even when they disagree. He has to convince his peers, his elders, to respect him, and must learn a cold and demanding tone that will show his peers he is not just the carefree kid to be walked all over that he once was.

And this is the Tubbo that Ranboo meets for the first time. Ranboo comes to the SMP without any knowledge of the history of the place, of the carnage that has only just passed for every character in one way or another. In a time where all of Tubbo’s relationships have become complicated by their history, Ranboo is a clean slate. Furthermore, they are a clean slate that listens. Ranboo allows Tubbo to define his new self to them without pre-existing expectations. Similarly, Tubbo is someone that acts as a perfect welcome point for Ranboo to the server. They formed bonds with several people on the server, many of which, while supportive, were ultimately preoccupied with actively unfolding personal dramas. His bond with Tubbo worked out especially well, as not only was Tubbo around his age, but he had several reasons to remain as a point of stability. He could not move geographically as the president of NLM. He could not make any rash decisions or else the nation would face the consequences.

Ranboo became immediately involved in the NLM space, and with his growing acquaintanceship with Tubbo decided to run as his rival in presidential candidate. Although Tubbo was sure to win at this point, having someone who was ultimately proving to be in his corner as a ‘rival’ was incredibly refreshing and reassuring.

For Tubbo, Ranboo was a new and constant reminder that he didn’t need to do this alone. For Ranboo, Tubbo was a charming and competent but clearly troubled peer that he wanted to support and learn more about.

It’s at this point when they are growing their closest that Ranboo really starts running into steeper issues with his memory loss and fears of hurting his friends during his blackouts. When his memory book is revealed to Tubbo at the Green Festival, Tubbo defends Ranboo against both Dream’s accusations and later Quackity’s suggestion that Ranboo be executed as a traitor. After agonizing for so long about what his peers would think of him if they knew about his blackouts, Ranboo learns just as Tubbo did that Tubbo is in their corner too, and they don’t have to face this alone.

Where Ranboo was able to help Tubbo through his presidency, Tubbo wants to help Ranboo too. Tubbo offers to help with his memory issues but doesn’t go about it in a way that Ranboo is receptive to. It’s also by this point that doomsday has passed, NLM is gone, Dream is imprisoned, Snowchester is built. Finally the constant worry of the worst is over—the worst has happened. They have moved away from politics, for better or worse. Dream is out of the immediate picture for better or worse. This should be the time where beeduo can finally thrive in peace together.

However, being out of a space where survival is the first thing on the mind at all times, both Tubbo and Ranboo are left with themselves to face. For Tubbo, this means years of trauma that he has truly yet to unpack. They find even moreso that Tubbo is prone to shutting down, to chasing distractions, to starting projects rather than facing his pain. Ranboo, as much as a support he has tried to be, has also found that he might rather address his memory problems on his own, not seeing eye to eye with Tubbo on how to handle them, and finding support outside of Tubbo alone (read: the syndicate).

Ranboo and Tubbo at this point have become more openly affectionate towards each other, in words and in gestures, but the core of what began their bond seems to grow more distant. They still find satisfaction with each other, but things seem least complicated when they don’t talk about their real issues, things are most comfortable when they simply build their ideal life, live new adventures without facing their pasts or presents too closely.

When Tommy dies in the prison, it’s like the final nail in the coffin. Tubbo is beyond any point of seriously sitting with his emotions for too long, but this breaks over a line not previously crossed. Tubbo is forced again to face his profound loss of control over the things in his life. He needs something permanent, he needs something ensured.

Ranboo is drowning in guilt, in fear of his continued involvement of what may have contributed to Tommy’s death. He is afraid and he is distraught and he still has Tubbo.

He and Tubbo get married at truly their lowest moment in a while. This is great as a pick me up. Again there’s that reassurance that at the end of the day they’re in each other’s corners, but now they are not communicating their problems like they used to. They are both painfully aware of this too. But increasingly there is a concern that if they dig deep enough into each other’s heads and hearts things will fall apart between them. And neither of them can handle that.

I think to a degree Ranboo is almost more afraid that Tubbo will fall apart than he is of their relationship crumbling should things go poorly between them. While Ranboo has been able to grow his support system, Tubbo has not. Sure he has Quackity and Jack, but Tubbo does not take the opportunity to lean on and develop his relationship with Quackity any further than Quackity initiates, and really Tubbo’s relationship with Jack is one that enables his paranoid coping mechanisms. At most Jack acts as both an architect and a guard rail to Tubbo’s kill switch.

Bee Duo adopts Michael, and it’s the perfect way to put genuine truth and love into something shared without having to face each other. In some ways, Michael did help them to face each other, but it’s hard to say this could really be enough with how little time left they had together. The mansion is built. Tubbo lives in Snowchester. Ranboo only sometimes. Beeduo looks at this mansion and says here is a permanent place where we can all stay. Maybe Ranboo will even move in here full-time instead of keeping all his things in the arctic commune. Maybe. Probably not. Be he could! As long as steps are always being taken towards the ideal they’ve never truly lost it. But if they were ever to settle into this perfect family home, they will have to truly face their imperfect lives.

The worst part of it is, being imperfect is actually perfectly okay. Falling apart is expected and honestly needs to happen before they can truly be there for each other again. But they are both so afraid. They need this to be the one thing they don’t give the chance to fail. They will always have each other as long as they never do. Their marriage and their family and their forever home.

@needlebeetles

[crepesuzette2023]

What do you think was the deal w George playing on HDYS? Like all those ppl in the room knew Paul, used to be friends with him, and still talked shit about him, and it's just so crazy to me that Ringo was the only one bothered by it all. I can't wrap my head around it.

Full disclosure to get it out of the way: I don't much like HDYS. Musically, I mean. I think it's boring and monotonous, and the lyrics are childish because of how obvious they are. I know many people like the song, or like it musically while disliking the lyrics—all fine with me. But I'm not coming at this as a fan of the song.

What do I think George's deal was playing on HDYS? It's speculation time!

I think George had legitimate grievances about being in the Beatles: the fame, the John & Paul of it, the resulting creative frustration. He was clear enough in later years that, despite loving Paul as a friend, he wouldn't play in a band with him anymore. You can dismiss that as George being a mediocre bitch who's incapable of playing with a genius like Paul, or as Paul being a domineering asshole who can't play well with others, but it comes down to creative incompatibility, and three songwriters being at least one too many.

I imagine that any wounds and anger George carried because of that were still relatively fresh at the time HDYS was recorded. And since Paul had positioned himself as the odd one out (culminating with the lawsuit), George ended up in John's camp—his dislike of Yoko being compensated for by the presence of Klaus, Ringo, etc.

With HDYS being a reaction to Paul's no less cruel (in its own way) "Too Many People", I imagine George felt some personal outrage and solidarity with John as well: Too many people preaching practices...

With so much miscommunication/non-communication between all of them at this point, it was easy to project, blame, and make bad faith assumptions...with no one in the room (except, eventually, Ringo) willing and able to prioritize John and Paul's (and all of their) friendship over being part of the 'winning' fraction.

In One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, the main character, McMurphy, observes a group therapy session that ends with everyone piling on and competing for the cruelest thing to say or do. He compares this behavior to a pecking party: a flock of chicken driven into a pecking frenzy after smelling blood, which leads to more cuts, and more blood. It's a dramatic example, of course, but I sense something like this in the composition of HDYS: the collective rush of being assholes together, further enhanced by John's charisma and the victim being absent. Who hasn't experienced this at some point—talking shit about the person no one liked in the moment, so happy to be part of 'in crowd'? *Raises hand* definitely guilty—teenage behavior, not proud of it. Ashamed, even.

I think that's a big part of what happened. It says a lot about Ringo that he eventually left. That's backbone.

By the way, I've no intention to make this about Paul vs. John. The situation was out of hand, and there was no one with the authority or will to make them talk and stop this (though eventually they apparently decided to stop the excessive mutual flogging in public). It remained the John & Paul business, to the end.

To wrap it up, I'm not a huge fan of "Too Many People," either, because the taunting lilt is so mean and cutting. I like the melody, though, and enjoy the version on Thrillington.

Now, the whole Dear Boy/ Dear Friend/ Best Friend/ Jealous Guy/ I Know (I Know) thing...please.