#and also she was raised in a cult regardless. and also she is just so neat and i like her a lot

[smallhatlogan]

with every rewatch of Severance I get more and more convinced that Cobel's motivations are going to turn out to be actually pretty sympathetic despite her very much not being a good person?

I think -the theory that she used to be severed but lost either innie or outie and that's why she's so deeply obsessed with reintegration feels pretty damn likely. like shit she's even named Harmony -she's obviously a true believer in Kier but does not believe that severance alone aligns with his message but that there's a step 2 to this which is probably reintegration ("We must be cut to heal"). I like that there's opposing interpretations of Kier's message (also demonstrated by Burt and Irving's conversations) and that Cobel's seems at odds with Lumon's. -her obsession with Mark seems less about Mark himself (though she obviously harbors some twisted affection for him) and more about what he represents in terms of living as a severed person. -obviously it's notable that she's so invested in him and Gemma recognizing each other after being severed? and I don't think this is for their sakes but for what that would mean about severance -it's extremely interesting that she lives like she's severed, purposely switching between these two identities, like I'm not sure I believe that the kindly yet off-putting old lady next door is purely for Mark's sake. -i'm in love with her she's so weird

Also like man, is she so fucking weird because her outie is permanently shut off and so she has an innie's social skills or is that was just spending her whole life in this cult did to her?

[the-artist-grimm]

HELLO first of all I’m literally obsessed with Anthea and your whole AU, it’s so well written and your art is wonderful!! I was wondering, if it’s ok to ask, how does Anthea deal with dissenters? Has that even been a problem for her since she treats her cult members so fairly?

All dissenters are usually sent to the lamb’s first follower, Nona! She was a mother and grandmother prior to losing her entire family to heretics, and while that plus her old age has made her rather gruff, it has proven to make her very effective at dealing with problematic newcomers. Dissenters are only really seen among newcomers who are converts from the other cults-namely former witnesses.

The cult’s first dissenter was Amdusias-he was angry about being defeated and had taken Anthea’s kindness as a sign of weakness, and thus spent his entire first week picking fights with people and causing havoc until, upon injuring Anthea while they were breaking up a fight he’d started, Nona decided she’d had enough and took over, requesting that he be placed to assist her in the kitchens. After working him pretty hard for a few hours (calling out every mistake he made when cutting veggies/meal prep, calling out his poor attitude, not taking his bait to start fights-essentially breaking his chops to show she wasn't gonna let him push her over), she eventually just cornered him and gave it to him straight-his faction had ruined all of the other followers’ lives including hers, and yet the lamb had given him mercy regardless. The lamb's kindess wasn't a weakness-if anything, they were stronger for not killing him on sight.

Prior to that interaction Amdusias had been able to kinda distance the reality of the Bishop’s cruelty since he had no names, faces, or really people to put to those that'd been killed, since numbers on a report were just that, numbers. But it’s a lot harder to ignore what you’d done when the survivors are right in front of you, especially in Nona’s case with her being so blunt about what his faction took from her. A few more days of her having him work in the kitchens, and him starting to pay more attention to those in the cult (A terrier breaking down in tears sobbing when the lamb returned with her injured brother after having been pacing before the entrance for days-and from there never leaving that brother's side, a rabbit with a cane and burns on one leg, a chicken easily sent into panics at loud noises, a yellow cat and their grandmother who’s eyes had been blinded by clearly magically-induced scarring, the various screams and cries heard around the tents late in the night, always followed by the sound of someone scrambling out of their tent to go check in-

Amdusias had never considered people were left behind when the ashes and smoke settled from the rubble of new territory. He had never even considered people outside the Old Faith being more than heretical vermin till he actually had no choice but to look at them)

He apologized to the lamb soon after that, and asked if he could perhaps assist with the struggling farm situation they’d been having, and thus from there, Anthea had all dissenters passed along to Nona. Where Anthea couldn’t bring themselves to be cruel, Nona could had no issues about being blunt about things, for Hell hath no fury like a mother scorned.

That isn't to say she's mean though! She's more-so just very strict-she has zero tolerance for misbehavior and has raised far too many children and grandchildren to be phased by empty threats. She can also be kinder depending on the case, such as when it was Narinder thrown into her care, she quickly saw that rather than bitter and angry he was remorseful and heavily depressed, and thus was far gentler with him as a result. Her strictness is for those who need a reality check, and her kindness, for those who need a mother's guidance.

(Also thank you! I'm glad you like the Au! :D )

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Running an errand together brings out even more sides of Eddie Munson, including one that you wish you'd never seen (5.2k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter six: the eye of the tiger

Guilt fit like the shoes your mom forced you to wear as a kid, the dressy ones reserved for special occasions. It pinched at you, dug into you, a constant reminder of its unwelcome presence.

And so you did everything you could to alleviate the discomfort. On Wednesday, Dad mosied into the lobby for his shift to find the floor meticulously swept; there was not a speck of dust in sight. If he had any suspicions, he didn’t bother to show them. He was probably just grateful for the help regardless of its cause.

Mom, as usual, was more skeptical of your intentions, raising a disbelieving brow when you presented her with the bills you’d reorganized by their due dates. You’d offered up the excuse of being bored with nothing better to do. Did she buy it? Unlikely. But she also didn’t pose further questions, choreographing another step in your dance.

And when Dad hung up the phone Friday afternoon, thumb and forefinger massaging the bridge of his nose, you jumped at the chance to fix the situation.

“Everything okay?”

He looked up with a start, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize you’d been standing in the doorway. 

“That was Uncle Mo,” he said with an elongated sigh. “The delivery truck won’t start; something’s busted, I guess, so we won’t get our wallpaper until it’s out of the shop.”

“I can go after class,” you volunteered. The shop was a twenty minute bus ride from school, no transfers required. Lugging it on the subway back home might prove more challenging, but you could manage it. 

He dashed your dreams with a swift shake of his head. “They close early for the Sabbath.” Which meant they’d be closed all day tomorrow, too. 

Dad glanced around at the walls, lip scraping over his bottom lip. Their barrenness unsettled him; his pride and joy left empty and exposed.  

Imagine how he’ll feel once this place is boarded up for good. Bet he won’t care about some ugly walls then. 

“I’ll go on Sunday.” The promise practically made itself before you could stop it. Your final paper was due on Tuesday, and you had planned to spend your weekend finishing it, but that would need to take a backseat until the wallpaper crisis was resolved.

You could be part of that solution. For now, at least.

Sunlight teased summer’s beginning and warmed your skin. The walk to the subway station required you to cross paths with the mailbox you’d fought with—and humbly lost to—a few days prior. Dejection shot through your chest as you paused in front of it, focusing on a spot of rusted metal where the paint had flaked off. Short of intercepting the United States Postal Service, there was nothing you could do. Besides, your acceptance was probably already locked inside NYU’s admissions office, sitting among a pile of identical envelopes. Most of them, you suspected, were mailed with exuberance and not with the trepidation you carried. 

The station’s stuffiness engulfed you as you descended the stairs, fingertips brushing the railing to ensure your balance. Your return trip would be short of torture, sweat prickling beneath your arms at the mere thought of dragging wallpaper through the thick humidity. You might have to splurge for a cab to avoid melting completely.

Frantic, impassioned guitar strumming grabbed your attention just before you approached the turnstile, echoing off of the concrete and infiltrating all of your senses. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw that Eddie was the source of the noise. He leaned against the wall as he played an electric guitar—the same one he had clutched so dearly when sleeping at the bus stop. There was no microphone, no amplifier; just him and his instrument. The case was open in front of him, now holding a few scattered dollar bills and some loose change. 

He didn’t notice you, not at first, so you took that opportunity to silently watch him. His head nodded along with the beat, his voice a low timbre as he sang. 

Trust I seek and I find in you 

Every day for us something new 

Open mind for a different view 

And nothing else matters

The chords were nearly drowned out by his vocals, and the softer strumming should have clashed with the harsh lyrics, but he made it work. 

It was somehow even sadder than when Metallica played it, though not from a lack of power. Eddie’s version intertwined anger with desperation, a somber reprise of the gritty original. 

Deft fingers pressed into the frets, the pick pinched between the other hand’s thumb and forefinger. He took a step forward to launch himself into the chorus with a combination of focus and ease. This is what he was meant to do, what he was born to do. Whether he was in front of a captivated audience of thousands or a smattering of indifferent commuters, he was a rockstar. 

Never cared for what they say

Never cared for games they play

Never cared for what they do

Never cared for what they know

And I know, yeah, yeah

Heat blossomed in your belly at his gravelly voice, the way he pulled the notes from the depths of his diaphragm and belted them out. The E train came and went as it screeched along the tracks, but you remained as though the soles of your feet were glued to the ground. 

So close, no matter how far

Couldn't be much more from the heart 

Forever trusting who we are 

No, nothing else matters

For a brief moment after finishing the song, Eddie’s chest puffed out with pride. It quickly faltered in the absence of applause, but before he could play another song, his gaze landed on you. He grinned and shook a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. Part of you wanted to fix it for him, to tuck it behind his ear or sweep it all back into a ponytail, but you refrained. Instead, you dug into your purse and tossed a dollar into the case. 

“Was that the one I gave you for the cab?” Eddie asked, fingers absently brushing over the strings in a series of random chords. 

“Nah, this was from the other asshole guest who made me late for class.”

Your jibe caught him off-guard and he actually laughed with such force that he had to stop playing. “And here I thought I was the only one.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as it snagged on a knot. “Are you going to the library or something?”

You lacked the energy to explain that the library was in the opposite direction, opting instead to cut to the chase. “Picking up the wallpaper.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he cocked his head. “I thought it was being delivered.” As you relayed the whole broken-truck saga, he started sliding the guitar strap up off of his back and crouched down, stuffing the money from the case into his pockets. “Cool. I’ll go with.”

“Oh, I wasn’t–” You paused mid-sentence to consider your words. “I mean, you don’t have to. I can do it on my own.”

“S’fine.” Eddie laid the guitar down with the fragility that one would handle a newborn baby and snapped the case shut. “Didn’t realize this station is basically dead on Sundays. I normally just play here during the week, but I’ve been out of commission.” He held up his bandaged finger and pouted impishly.

The familiar playfulness settled back into the conversation, breaking up any lingering awkwardness, and you snatched up the opportunity to tease him. “Ah, right. Your man stuff.”

“Very manly. Burly, some might say.” He extended one hand in front of him, palm up, to gesture towards the turnstiles. “Shall we?”

You led and he followed behind so closely that his chest smacked into your back when you stopped in your tracks. The uneven weight distribution, courtesy of the guitar case lolling at his side, thrusted him forward, the metal buckle on his belt digging into your skin through your shirt. 

It set off a domino effect, one that had you falling face-first to the ground. Before you could even brace for impact, you felt Eddie’s fingers digging into your hip and tugging you upright. The way he caught you was almost reflexive, his grasp controlled enough to avoid bruising your skin, but strong enough that you realized he could if he wanted to. 

“What happened?” His tone was mixed with both concern and amusement; a crackle of laughter broke up his question. 

An embarrassing adrenaline surge shot through you, bringing with it a chill that immediately preceded a heatwave of perspiration. “The, um…” You lamely pointed at the card swipe machines that had replaced the token receptacles. “I forgot that we need those MetroCard things.” 

Eddie let go of your hip and you felt his absence almost immediately. “No, we don’t.” He left no time for questioning, hoisting the case to the other side and pushing himself up and over the bar, landing on his feet with cat-like dexterity. 

You stared at him in disbelief. Sure, you’d jumped the turnstile a time or two, but that was back in high school, under the influence of friends you hadn’t talked to since. 

“What’re you waiting for?” He called out. A Cheshire-cat grin graced his lips. 

What were you waiting for? It’s not like the transit police were scouring the station. The poor schmuck stuck at the now-defunct token booth was exasperatedly trying to explain the new system to an older gentleman; he probably wouldn’t have noticed a wildebeest stampede. And you certainly weren’t eager to contribute to the politicians who lined their pockets with taxpayer money. 

Fuck it. 

In one swift motion—much more graceful than your earlier stumble—you mimicked his actions. One foot, then the other, your biceps supporting your body weight. 

“You little rebel.” Eddie tutted, his smirk showing off his teeth. You never noticed the way one canine is slightly sharper than the other, and it digs into his lower lip. “This is how it starts, y’know. One day, you’re skipping out on train fare; the next, you’re committing armed robbery.”

If he kept rubbing your nerves raw, you might be more tempted to commit homicide. 

Another E train arrived not long after. You were an expert at scouting empty seats, and you made a beeline for the first one you found. There was another one across the way, just vacated by a woman pushing a stroller, and you assumed Eddie would take it. 

Instead, he shoved his guitar case towards you, parting your legs between the knees, and grabbed onto one of the overhead handles. 

“Can you hold this?” Eddie asked belatedly. He rocked forward onto his toes as the train moved to keep his balance. A guitar pick necklace swung out from beneath the vee of his shirt and swayed above you. 

You drank in the way he towered over you, so close that he was all you could see. The mingled scents of the motel’s soap and a musky deodorant wafted off of him and enveloped your senses. For a second, there was only him, and whatever the outside world had to offer was just shy of meaningless. 

“There’s a seat down there.” You peered around him and gestured to the one you’d spotted earlier, careful not to point at anyone. 

Eddie looked but declined with a shrug. “Nah, I’m good. I like standing.”

“See, that’s the kind of thing that separates the natives from the transplants.” You smiled up at him. “You didn’t even want to sit down after a gig? Or a long rehearsal?”

“I didn’t really ever take the subway,” he admitted. “Maybe, like, once or twice.”

You huffed out an incredulous laugh. “How did you get around?” 

“Taxis, car service.” He ticked off the items on his free hand. “One time we rented a helicopter, but then the label threatened to revoke the company card.” He chuckled forlornly, like the memory was heavier than an impromptu helicopter ride. 

“Sounds like you were living the life.”

Eddie shook off his wistfulness with a cheeky grin. “Hell yeah. Expensive restaurants, swanky hotels…did I ever tell you about the time we trashed our room?”

“You did not.” You’re not sure you want to know, considering he’s currently staying in one of yours. 

He laughed. “Get this: we come back to the hotel after a gig. We’re all fuckin’ exhausted. As soon as we walk into the lobby, the night manager is on us like a hawk. I mean, the guy gave a stink eye like you wouldn’t believe.” He tried mimicking him, but he was too upbeat to embody the manager’s full ire. “Anyway, we’re not in the room for five minutes when there’s a knock on the door. Of course it’s that schmuck, warning us about the noise policy.”

You looked at him incredulously. “That’s why you destroyed a hotel room?” 

“Mhm.” Eddie proudly nodded, not missing the way concern furrowed your brow. “Don’t worry, Heiress. I’d never trash your place.”

“I’d have to get Phyllis after you.” Laughter bubbled out of you at his visible cringe, probably thinking of being on the other end of her baseball bat. “Okay, so what’s the dumbest thing you guys bought with the company card?”

People pushed through the aisle as the train pulled up to the stop, elbows nudging Eddie until he was practically on top of you. Every hair on your body stood up at the sudden change in proximity. “Probably one of those stuffed tiger things for our apartment,” he admitted.

“You and your band bought a taxidermied tiger?” You scoffed. 

His face flushed, and he scratched at his jaw like he’d been caught red-handed. “N-No, not the whole band. Just me and the drummer. We, um, she was my girlfriend, I guess.”

Puzzle pieces started falling into place and interlocking curves. His ex-girlfriend was also in the band, which was probably why they broke up once Eddie quit. “How long were you two together?” You instantly regret not asking about the tiger instead, for his sake and yours. 

“Hard to say; we were pretty on-and-off.” Eddie tried to play it off casually but terse laughter gave him away. The subway lurched and Eddie swayed forward again, his knee grazing yours. “But it was about a year from start to finish.”

You let the information sink in. He had a girlfriend in Death’s Echo, but he seemed to be unattached at the moment. Made sense, considering he was living in your motel rather than with a partner.

“That’s what no one tells you about money: it runs out.” Eddie continued. “It’s like, common sense or whatever. But when you have no money and then you get a shit-ton of it, it’s hard to imagine ever going back.” 

His eyes found yours like he had been searching for them, and you held his gaze until a monotone voice crackled over the speaker, announcing that the train was approaching the Forest Hills-71st Avenue station. 

“We have to transfer here.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose, clearly not thrilled by this extra step, but he followed your lead without any audible protest.

“Y’know,” he said as the doors opened, the two of you joining the swarm of people pushing their way out, “my neighborhood back home was also called Forest Hills.”

“Seems fancy,” you quipped. 

He laughed, head thrown back. “Oh, yeah. It’s the most glamorous trailer park in all of Indiana.”

The faux pas curdled in your stomach. What were you thinking? He had just confessed that he was broke before Death’s Echo. 

“Sorry, that was stupid.”

He shrugged off your comment, seemingly unbothered. “How many stops is this next one?”

“Just two.”

He hummed his acknowledgment, and with the R train less crowded than the E, you found seats adjacent to one another.

You did your best to ignore the way his right leg brushed your left, the worn denim against your bare skin as the train jostled him. He murmured a barely-audible “sorry.”

There was no reason for him to apologize, and you almost told him this, but you substituted a tight smile for words. Truthfully, you were glad he confirmed that the touch was accidental. You’d nearly nudged him back, a secret handshake of sorts, and your body burned with the mere prospect of embarrassment.

The train screeched to a stop in front of a sign that barely read 63rd Drive-Rego Park, most of the letters covered in colorful graffiti tags. 

“This is us,” you said, handing him back his guitar so you could stand up. 

Eddie stepped aside with a small bow, equal parts awkward and endearing. “So, uh, where are we going, exactly?” He stayed close enough so you could hear him over the cacophony of commuters. 

“S’just a few blocks.” You maintained your fast-paced stride so as to not get bowled over. 

He kept up with you surprisingly well for someone unused to navigating the city’s public transit. The fresh air welcomed you as you ascended the stairs, leaving behind the station’s mugginess. Conversations and traffic replaced metallic clunking while you weaved in and out of a sea of pedestrians, checking every so often to ensure you hadn’t left Eddie behind. 

Bold white letters on a maroon awning proudly proclaimed Eisen’s Paint and Supply, and the faint sound of bell chimed when you opened the door. A middle-aged man stood behind the counter, eyes lighting up when you walked in. 

“Uncle Mo!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. Uncle Mo wasn’t your father’s brother, but their bond went beyond blood relation. He was part of nearly all of Dad’s stories since they’d met in high school: the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

There was more gray in his hair and in his beard than the last time you’d seen him, the lines from his lips to his jaw more pronounced, but he still wore the same cologne that you’d remembered. The familiar scent was like home, a reminder of all of the Thanksgivings your families had spent together before the motel engulfed your life. 

He beamed, his hands bracing your upper arms as he got a better look at you. “Look at you; so grown up!” His eyes misted over for a second before he blinked the moisture away. “How long has it been?”

“Too long.” You turned back to Eddie, waving him over and introducing him. Uncle Mo politely extended a hand that Eddie shook quickly before shoving his fingers back in his pocket. 

“Before I get your paper,” Uncle Mo said to you with a mischievous smile, “I have a bit of a surprise.” The stockroom door swung open on cue and a young man stepped out from behind it. 

Your hand flew to your mouth in shock, every bone in your body vibrating. “Ben?” The name was muffled but still audible, and Ben opened his arms just in time for you to tackle him in an embrace.

His gangly teenage limbs had been replaced with hard muscle, his chest straining through his t-shirt. There was no trace of the wispy excuse for a mustache he’d once proudly sported; his face was freshly shaven, only the slightest evidence of his stubble scratched against your cheek when he pulled you to him. 

“I couldn’t believe it when my dad told me you were stopping by,” Ben said, finally letting go after a few moments. He looked at Eddie as if noticing him for the first time. “Ben. Nice to meet you.”

Eddie said nothing in response, his jaw set and his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever friendliness he’d shown Uncle Mo was clearly not being granted to his son. 

“Ben, this is Eddie,” you hurried to explain before the tension became unbearably dense. “He works for the motel, doing different repairs and odd jobs. Whatever we need, really.”

Your old friend nodded and brought his attention back to you. “Do you guys need help bringing the wallpaper back? I don’t have anything to–”

“We’ve got it.” Eddie cut him off curtly, clipping the conversation’s wings. His eyes narrowed in judgmental assessment and their milk chocolate hue turned dark.

Ben had evidently stepped on his toes; you thought back to the wasp’s nest and his adamance to clobber it with a baseball bat despite your insistence to wait until you bought the spray. You shot Eddie a look that he either disregarded or didn’t notice, because his clenched jaw never loosened. 

“Right, yeah.” A blush crept into Ben’s cheeks, the other man’s brusqueness catching him off-guard. “But we should catch up soon,” he said to you, “maybe grab a cup of coffee?”

It was an effort to ignore the way Eddie tensed up; even more so to pretend like his reaction hadn’t stirred something inside of you. Everything between you and him, and you and Ben, was strictly platonic. Whatever melodrama he’d conjured up was his problem, not yours. 

Your relationship with Eddie teetered between acquaintances and friends; he was in no position to get bent out of shape over you going for coffee with Ben or any other man.

You pushed the intrusive thought away long enough to answer Ben’s question. “Yeah, of course! You’re home for the whole summer?”

“Actually…” Ben’s grin widened, harboring a secret he was eager to spill. “I’m back for good. You’re looking at Dr. Benjamin Eisen, D.D.S.”

“That’s amazing!”

He nodded happily, enthusiasm unrestrained. “Thanks. I’m hoping to open up a practice nearby, so I’ll be sticking around for a while.”

That was the best news you’d heard in a while. The pair of you were once inseparable, always devising plans to convince your parents to extend their visits. When you were six, you’d almost started a fire trying to put on a pot of coffee, hoping that it would coax the Eisens into staying longer. 

Too bad you’d forgotten to add the water. 

Uncle Mo returned from the stock room with rolls of wallpaper, and his son shuffled towards him to take one from his grasp. 

“Are you sure I can’t help out?” Ben tried again. He only looked at you when he spoke. 

You almost took him up on his offer, the reply sitting on the tip of your tongue, but Eddie answered for you. 

“We’re good,” he said flatly, taking the rolls from the other men. “I used to lug around amps all the time. This is nothing.”

He’d uttered the same phrase before taking a bat to a wasp’s nest, and he’d ended up hurt. Still, inviting Ben along would almost certainly guarantee an awkward commute home. At best, you’d force stilted small talk; at worst, Eddie might shove Ben onto the tracks. 

“Thanks anyway,” you said politely, trying to temper your irritation. 

Ben gave a tight smile, brows shooting up when remembered something. “Let me give you my new phone number so we can set up a time to meet up.” He plucked a business card from the little plastic container on the desk, flipping it over and scrawling his number on the back. 

“Sounds great.” It truly did, save for Eddie’s glare that made you grateful looks couldn’t actually kill. 

Tucking the card into your purse, you held him in one last hug before bidding them goodbye. 

Eddie said nothing the entire walk back to the subway station. He strode there despite heaving around a guitar case and cylinders of wallpaper. You suspected he could have flown there if he wasn’t so bogged down. The closest he came to acknowledging your presence was the scoff he let out when you veered off-course to buy a MetroCard. 

You ignored him, still fuming over his behavior towards Ben. With trembling fingers, you dropped your change into the coin slot, acutely aware of his presence as he stood beside you. He was close enough that you could hear his tense sigh, as though his frustration was justified.

Yanking the card out from behind the swinging Plexiglass, you silently stalked over to the turnstile, Eddie begrudgingly hot on your heels. The tiny diagram showed the magnetic strip facing downwards and you did your best to emulate it. After two failed swipes, the machine relented and gave an approving beep.

“Go,” you told Eddie, and when he stared at you blankly, you repeated yourself with considerably less patience. “Go.”

“Okay, okay.” There was no hiding his surprise at your insistence, the sharpness of your tongue. He obviously wasn't accustomed to taking the attitude he dished out. His eyebrows crashed into his hairline as he maneuvered through, wallpaper bumping up against the metal gates. 

There wasn’t enough money left on the card for you, so after a brief glance at your surroundings, you once again lift yourself up and over to the other side. The metal barrier seemed laughably obsolete beneath you.

Eddie blinked twice in rapid succession but composed himself before you reached him again. A peculiar expression graced his face; not so much amusement as much as admiration. If you weren’t so annoyed with him, with his antics back at Eisen’s, you might have cracked a joke about his bad influence rubbing off on you. 

The first leg of the trip—the shortest part, as it were, went smoothly. It was once the E train departed from Forest Hills that it almost immediately halted, the exasperated conductor announcing that extensive track work was causing delays. 

“Fucking great,” you muttered. Experience told you that the remainder of the ride would be stop-and-go, which meant more time spent with Eddie. 

He’d exhaled an exasperated sigh of his own, eyes flickering over the subway car and foot tapping to a beat only he could hear. When he finally spoke, it was the last thing you’d expected him to say. 

“Wanna play I Spy?”

“Um, what?”

“Y’know, I spy with my little eye…” he explained, as though you were confused about the game concept.

It took every last ounce of energy not to burst out laughing at his odd request, though it helped that annoyance still tarnished your mood. “All right. Sure.” 

“Cool.” He glanced around again, rubbing his palms over his thighs in concentration. “Okay, I spy with my little eye, something purple.”

Squinting, you searched for shades of lilac and violet. “That woman’s shirt?” You jutted your chin towards an older woman sitting across the car. 

“Nope.”

“That little girl’s shoes?”

Eddie just shook his head, his dimples gradually deepening with each wrong answer you gave. 

Your next three guesses were also incorrect, and Eddie triumphantly pumped his fist when you admitted defeat. 

“It’s the words on that sign,” he said, pointing to an advertisement for psychic readings. 

It was your turn, and it didn’t take you long to find your target. 

“I spy with my little eye, something…douchey.” Your gaze never left his face, watching the skin crease between his brows as he connected your implication. 

Eddie threw his head back and cackled, drawing the ire of your fellow commuters. You shushed him with a hiss, his apathy only fueling your anger. 

“Fine, I guess I deserved that.” He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms upwards. For a second, you thought he might drape one over your shoulders, but he brought them right back to his lap. 

“You guess?” You gawped, and he laughed even louder. “You were a total asshole to Ben for no reason.”

Eddie’s voice got feather-soft; you had to lean in to hear him. “Trust me; I had a reason.”

You snorted. “What, him offering to help carry the wallpaper threatened your ‘man stuff?’”

“Something like that.” 

Crossing your arms, you shot him a bemused grimace. Whatever testosterone-laden excuse he concocted would just strengthen your irritation, so you saved yourself the headache and  plundered on. 

“Ben and I have been friends since I was born.” That wasn’t an exaggeration; a photo of one-year-old Ben holding newborn you was tucked away in one of Mom’s albums. Dad had snapped the photo while Uncle Mo sat next to his son, helping cradle your head. You were only a few hours old. “Whatever your problem is, don’t make it mine. Or his,” you add.

Eddie had no response to that, and you preferred it that way. Maybe he was learning not to argue with you, especially when he was so obviously wrong.

Your response halted all conversation for the rest of the extended ride and continued during the short trek back to the motel. The quiet was necessary, but not peaceful, and you refused to buckle when an invisible pull urged you to talk again, to push past the discomfort. If you couldn’t outright tell him that he’d upset you, the least he could do was feel that anger.

“Where do these go?” Eddie asked once the motel’s doors closed behind you. You pointed to the supply closet and he ambled over, wincing as the hinges squeaked in a plea for lubrication. “All right, so, I can get started on this tonight if you want.”

You considered this for a moment before shaking your head. The lobby could survive another night with bare walls, but you needed a break. A break not just from Eddie, but from his naivety to his actions having consequences. 

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

He stilled, his hands halfway in his pockets. “I mean, I was going to stop by anyway; I might as well—”

“I think I just need some quiet tonight.” It was the nicest response you could muster, though the way the words passed through your clenched teeth gave away your annoyance. 

“Oh.” His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled a breath of air, his eyes refusing to meet yours. Confusion tied his tongue, but if he didn’t realize the mistake he’d made, you were in no mood to spell it out. He waited a beat for you to follow up, to iron out the creases with an explanation that had nothing to do with his earlier behavior, but that never happened.

The lack of reassurance pained you, too. You despised leaving matters unfinished; part of you wanted to apologize—for what, you weren’t sure—just to have some resolution. 

Eddie raked his fingers through his curls. “Well, I’m sorry for pissing you off, or whatever.”

Or whatever. Those two words almost had you smacking him upside the head with the wallpaper tubes. Maybe sealing his lips with the glue, too. 

The worst part was the shock on his face when you’d wordlessly stormed out of the supply closet towards your room. Like he had no idea what he’d done wrong or why his non-apology fell flat. 

No, that was a lie. The worst part was actually the pang of disappointment in your chest when there were no footsteps pounding down the hall, no knock on your door, no attempt to talk through the situation. As much as you wanted to be left alone, you’d clutched to an optimistic sliver that he would follow you. It was a pathetic need for proof that he cared about you as more than just his employer. As his friend.

But there was nothing.

That silence hurt most of all. 

--

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[yesimwriting]

False Prophets

A/n was looking through my drafts and decided to let this logan fic leave the vault also fun fact the title is inspired by a line in a gracie abrams song

Summary: After the laboratory that's served as the only home you've ever known is ambushed by those that don't believe in the mission you've dedicated your life to, you're left with no other option but to trust the stranger that helped do so.

Warnings/info: slight allusions to manipulative use of an unspecified religion, reader has a touch of stockholm syndrome bc she was raised by a cult that experiments on mutants, brief mentions/implications of being medically abused by a caretaker, age gap (reader is in their early 20's)

----

The knife is as intangible as everything else. You squeeze the blade's handle regardless, knuckles straining against your skin as you try to force the metal's weight to mean something to you.

How did--how did things turn so quickly? Father Daniel grabbed you by the arm, he dragged you up the stairs and into the above ground. He gave you little instruction and even less explanation.

Protect the cause. That was all he could say before the defiers found you. Things had moved so quickly, your instincts allowing you to neutralize an assailant before--before the world became little more than a nauseating haze.

The pulsing ache behind your skull, the weight of your limbs, the resistance of your lungs, the dark spots clouding your vision. You set a palm against the floor, the coolness of the tile doing little to ground you. It's not unusual for you to feel unwell after over exerting your abilities, but this has been something else.

You need to--to evaluate, to begin the contingency process. Who knows how much time you've lost?

You bend your legs, hand pressing against the ground as you try to stand. A sharp pain immediately latches onto every tendon in your body. You screw your eyes shut. Breathe. Breathe.

A soft creak brings you back to where you are. The handle in front of you begins to twist. The door's pushed open, revealing a man who occupies too much of the doorway for you to consider bolting.

His attention shifts around the small space before settling on you. Everything about the stranger is harsh--his stance, his expression, the blood staining his clothing and skin.

The man takes a step forward. You flinch, head hitting the closet's back wall. He presses his lips together before exhaling. He holds his hands out in front of him as he steps back to where he was before, behind the doorway's threshold. "I'm not going to hurt you."

One of the many lies Father Daniel had warned you about. When you don't respond, the man sighs again. "So drop the knife. You look more likely to hurt yourself with it than me."

The perceived weakness only adds to your mounting unease. You scoff. He may have the physical advantage, but you have something he doesn't. You tilt your head, ignoring the pounding of your skull as you focus on mentally reaching for him. He's easy enough to latch onto, but actually doing anything takes more from you than you'd ever admit.

You take a deep breath, letting your energy build before pushing it onto him. It takes longer than it should, but eventually, your mind finds the strength to obey you. Just as the man's starting to bend to your will, his feet beginning to drag against the floor, your hold on him lapses.

Great--you've revealed your only real advantage and for what. You try to stand a little straighter, eyes landing on the stranger. You stare at him with wide eyes, fear making it difficult to breathe right. Father Daniel has always warned you about what happens to your kind in the real world.

You don't know what you expect from him--anger, horror, something else equally brutal. Instead of displaying any of that, the corner of his mouth briefly pulls itself upwards. "Got it out of your system, kid?"

"I'm not a kid." The raspiness of your own voice surprises you. "Where is he?"

He seems to know what you mean immediately. "The man that held you hostage and experimented on you for what--twenty years?"

Of course that's what he'd believe. "Father Daniel is a visionary with a divine calling, who is doing what he needs to do to pioneer a better future for mutants and humans alike."

"Yeah? Is that why he hasn't let you go outside in two decades?"

You scoff. It's not--the situation isn't like that, and to pretend that things are that black and white is ridiculous. You've been outside. Family outings to the movies after particularly strenuous medical trials, birthdays, and sometimes Christmas. Sure, you're not worldly, but that's the cost your family pays for safety. Until society is no longer cruel to your kind, you're safer in the lab.

If you were feeling a little more like yourself, you'd tell him all of this. But all you can manage is a defensive, "I've been outside."

His eyebrows draw together, something in the look coming terribly close to un-harsh. He doesn't believe you. Whatever. This man's opinions mean nothing to you. The only thing you know about him is that he's one of the ones that decided to invade your home in order to target you and Father Daniel's work.

His eyes drift downwards, landing on the band-aids stuck to your forearms. Some urging part of you wants to explain that things aren't always like this. That your labs and medical trials only make a fraction of your life, that these last few weeks have only been extra uncomfortable because Father Daniel has been getting closer. But the words needed to explain this to a stranger feel so far, and you doubt he'd be able to understand, regardless, so you settle for turning your forearms away from him.

"Congratulations," he mumbles dismissively, attention shifting away from your arms, "You're going again."

"What?" He sighs, as if there's something deeply irritating about the question. He can't--he can't possibly mean to take you from here. You squeeze the knife's handle. "No. I'm not--" Your protests don't impact him in the slightest. "No."

"I know it doesn't seem like it," there's something measured about his gruff assurance, "But you'll be okay if you come with me. I'm taking you to people that want to help you."

You press your a hand against the wall, as if the plaster will offer you a means of escape. "No one like you wants to help someone like me."

He watches you for a moment, something behind his expression becoming a little less fragile. "Someone like me?"

The man takes a measured step forward, crossing the door's threshold. Dread digs into you as your mind tries to reach for him. You've barely touched his energy before a piercing ache in your skull forces the connection to snap. If the stranger noticed your attempt at self defense, he gives no indication of it, taking another step in your direction.

He continues forward, his movements slow and definitive until he's so close you have to tilt your chin upwards to look him in the eye. Like this, his anger feels less...prominent.

After a moment, his eyebrows draw together slightly. If you didn't know any better, you might have mistaken the look for a barely there grimace. The man drops his gaze downwards, and you follow his line of sight.

His hand, the back of his palm--he had been weaponless before. And now, sharp, metal blades have split his skin from the inside out. You lift your chin to meet his gaze. He's not exactly smiling, but there's something gentle about the set of his mouth.

You angle your head downwards again, carefully pulling your free hand away from the wall. You move slowly, holding your arm out between the two of you for a moment before letting your pointer finger touch the edge of one of the blades. In another life, you might've been willing to tell him how cool you find his mutation.

He pulls back immediately, his hand moving away from you as his claws retract back into his skin. "You get it now?"

You press your lips together. Just because he's a mutant doesn't mean he's like you. Very few people understand your family's mission, and he isn't one of them. The fact that he broke in here is proof of that. But the ache in your skull is too disorientating for you to be efficiently hostile, and maybe there's a small chance that the fact he wanted to ease you when he could have easily just attacked you is throwing you slightly.

There is no good answer, so instead, you offer another question, "Where is he?"

"He left." The response is flat. "Ran downstairs and then disappeared."

What? Father Daniel--he left. That's not...that's not part of the contingency plan.

Okay--you let out a breath in an attempt to neutralize your expression. If Father Daniel left, he must have had a reason. There are other things that needed protecting. He'll come back.

You must look as thrown as you feel, because the man sighs. "Do you understand now?" When you don't react, he pauses. "You can stay here--in an abandoned warehouse, or you can come with and--and get some help."

Help. The word digs at you. You're not--not some kind of victim. You were chosen for a higher purpose, your mutation was given to you so that you could help others. However, that doesn't mean that the prospect of staying here, in a now compromised lab, without your family, isn't much more unappealing than leaving with this stranger.

You swallow, ignoring the lump in your throat as you weigh your options. Maybe there's something to remaining within a certain proximity to those that attempted to destroy Father Daniel's work. You could learn about their operations, their goals and desires; then, when the time is right, you'll have information to share with your family. It might not be the simplest task, but it's better than waiting.

This man also knows more about the outside world than you do. You could always just use his offer as a way to get some distance and then bolt once you're somewhere more secure. It might be easier to find Father Daniel from somewhere...out there.

You can't will yourself to look at him as you nod, wounded pride only amplifying your anxiety.

"Okay." His voice gives you no indication of what he thinks of your compliance, but something tells you that he'll be cautious of you for awhile. "You gonna drop the knife?"

The request is spoken so casually, you do briefly consider listening. You've never been much of a physical fighter, and you're sure the stranger could easily overpower you regardless of your small weapon, but you can't bring yourself to let it go. Besides, the stranger gets to have multiple knives physically attached to him. You should get to keep your one.

You briefly lift your chin in a vague gesture towards his hands. "I'll lose mine when you lose yours."

Some aspect of him seems to shift, his brow relaxing and his lips pressing together. The differences are gone too soon for you to dwell on them, his expression returning to its default blankness as he turns. You assume that's the closest thing to an 'okay' that you're getting, so after a beat, you follow him.

----

a/n i was considering adding to it and it lowkey feels like a waste of lore not to, so if you'd like a part 2 lmk!!

[typellblog]

Shinobu Time - An Analysis

This arc is difficult to talk about because it’s hard to extricate it from the context of Second Season more broadly and Mayoi Jiangshi more specifically - so much so that it’s really more focused on Mayoi than the titular Shinobu. But I don’t think this works unless we take them both, together, as telling the story of these two girls (and maybe some other characters as well).

In Mayoi Jiangshi, Koyomi and Shinobu are catapulted to 10 years in the past. It’s a result of his desire to save Mayoi, but being a considerate person, he thinks about what he can do for his other friends. Can he rescue Hitagi’s family from a cult? Can he give Tsubasa more stable living conditions? No, he can’t. These issues are too big, too complex, for him to solve as just a random high-schooler, regardless of how early he gets in on it. Much the same for Suruga, Nadeko, and anyone else he knows. Except for one Hachikuji Mayoi, whose single unlucky accident seems eminently correctable. 

It makes me think. What exactly is the difference between Mayoi and these other characters? I suppose it comes back to Meme’s old phrase - oddities arise for a reason. The circumstances that the other characters grew up in resulted in a condition where they almost had no choice but to call on oddities to help with their problems. 

You could say that Mayoi’s parents divorce is the reason for what happened to her, but there’s no particular reason why she had to be hit by a car, why she had to be unable to see her mother on Mother’s Day. After all, that wasn’t the effect of an oddity. It was the origin story of one. 

In a way, Mayoi’s situation feels fundamentally unfair. A character like Tsubasa, Nadeko, even Numachi Rouka - they become oddities because on some level, they want to be. That’s how they see themselves. It’s not good for them, but it does something, you can see why it happens. Hachikuji, though, isn’t a person that turned into an oddity. For all intents and purposes, she’s a supernatural entity from the start. Even as it causes her to suffer as a person does. 

The difference between Mayoi and other characters - this is also the topic of a discussion between Koyomi and Ononoki Yotsugi. Koyomi has continued to live, even after being made undead, while Ononoki was reborn, becoming a new person out of the corpse of the old. Mayoi does neither, simply remaining in place. The point of such continued existence is what Ononoki wants to know. She questions the meaning of her own life. Surely life arises because of a strong desire. Surely, these undead oddities persist for a reason. 

We might say that the reason for Ononoki is the desire of the people who raised her from the dead. We might say that for Koyomi, it’s his relationship with Shinobu. But thinking of it from this perspective, Hachikuji Mayoi’s reason for existing must be by far the simplest to answer.

After all, it’s a standard element for ghosts that they persist because of an unfulfilled regret. 

Of course Mayoi didn’t want to become an oddity, didn’t want to become the Lost Cow, but she did want to meet her mother again. She did want to persist after death. In this sense, her fate is really quite excessively merciful. Fair to the point of indulgence. There’s no reason for her being hit by a truck, but there’s a reason for her becoming an oddity. And there really is a good chance that fate could be averted by simply bringing her to her mother’s house on a day 10 years ago. 

The real question here is why she chooses to persist after she’s no longer lost. Ononoki wants to know if she’s happy with the current state of affairs. That’s something that Koyomi wants to know too, if there’s anything he can do for her, but he never asks. It’s the unspoken part of their relationship. 

I want to say that Mayoi Jiangshi, as a whole, is about speaking aloud these unspoken truths, but it applies much more heavily to Shinobu than it does to Mayoi. 

Shinobu would have destroyed the world had Koyomi not found her in Tsubasa Cat. This is left unspoken. Koyomi didn’t want to insensitively interrogate her motives during her silent period, knowing that he’d already imposed on her enough for a lifetime. Shinobu didn’t want to share, didn’t want to be seen as more petty and selfish than she already is. 

The destroyed world is a shock to both of them, but nothing more than that. It’s not a challenge, or a mystery to solve. The problem, and its solution, are both inevitable consequences of the kind of person that Shinobu is. She confronts herself, and in doing so, much that she would leave unspoken is said aloud. That she only needed to open her heart to Koyomi a little more. That she doesn’t know how she could have. It’s needless to say, it goes without saying, it was left unspoken until now, but a Shinobu who couldn’t connect with Koyomi - might as well be dead. 

The jiangshi, a form of zombie with a more solid feeling to them that calls to mind the concept of rigor mortis: being set in one’s state at the moment of death. The Shinobu of this world was dead for months, and yet unable to die. But Hachikuji Mayoi herself - not continuing to live, not being reborn, is she not a kind of jiangshi herself, persisting outside of her allotted time without any meaning or purpose?

This is a question Koyomi couldn’t bring himself to ask her, but he gets an answer by the end of the arc. He sees how much the Mayoi of the other timeline was changed thanks to his influence, and, returning to his own, he sees how his influence has also affected this Mayoi. How, because of him, she’s started enjoying being a ghost. Because of him, she wanted to stick around even after fulfilling her original goal.

A real apocalypse to Koyomi is the absence of other people, and that too is the true death of these undead oddities. Neither Mayoi nor Shinobu can live a worthwhile life, where they’re capable of changing and changing others in turn, without making a friend first.

However, in the pursuit of this goal, the two of them still have things left unaddressed - for Shinobu, in the past, and for Mayoi, in the future. Thus we move on to Shinobu Time. 

The ‘time’ in the title is oddly reminiscent of the time travel plot Shinobu just got involved in, and the similarities don’t stop there. In both, her carelessness leads to widespread loss of life, the loss of her human connections. In both, she has to leap far into the air to avoid the consequences of her actions. Time is the thing Shinobu possesses most abundantly, stretching her life both far backwards and infinitely forwards, and the more we learn about her the more we learn this is not a boon at all. 

We’re told that after enough time in one place, her nature as a vampire will draw negative energy to an area and cause masses of oddities to arrive, spelling destruction for the residents. I like to think of this as a smaller-scale reminder of the nature of vampirism - you cannot have mortal friends, they will inevitably perish with the passing of time. You, yourself have more time than you know what to do with, but it’s not a kind of time that can be shared. It can’t be used to build anything. 

Which is why the incident where she was worshiped as a god is so tragic. Why did she continue giving the people of the area rain even after the first accidental miracle? Why did she do nothing to dispel their impression of her as a divine being, even by accident? Why didn’t she leave as soon as she realized they had no legends of vampirism, as she muses later? I mean, she tries to play it off as being careless, arrogant, indifferent, but there are enough hints that we’re not seeing everything here. If anything, the question is why she wouldn’t want to stay in a place where people like her, and she can help them instead of hurting?

Time is the curse of vampires, and the darkness slips naturally into that role when it demands an actor. After enough time, enough indifference, people start disappearing. Because there’s no way a vampire can get away with having a positive relationship with humanity. 

It’s simply impossible. Shinobu was doomed from the start. Is what I want to say, because I like the tragedy of it, but in reality there is a very simple way out. Just become a god for real. Don’t tell me it’s impossible, this is Kiss-Shot Acerola-Orion Heart-Under-Blade in her prime, it would have been as simple as willing it. As wanting it. As admitting it to herself. 

But she doesn’t, because the all-mighty vampire isn’t willing to admit that she needs something from other people that can’t be taken by force. She wants only that which can be given without her asking, and what isn’t given she watches go up in flames just out of her reach, not moving a finger. Is that not what caused the whole mess in Mayoi Jiangshi? It really puts into context, then, the opening scene of the Kizumonogatari movies, where she moves to drag Koyomi out of the sun. The desperation she must have felt, begging for help when she first meets him on the side of the road. 

Time is the curse of vampires, because it at once broadens your perspective and narrows it. We don’t hear this story before this arc, Shinobu feels no need to tell it, because she forgot. The whole incident made her feel bad, so she shoved it to the back of her mind, let the endless waves of time wash over it until it was gone, and carried on as she had been. Or so she claims, anyway. I think the way she treats Koyomi after the fate of her first kin tells a different story. 

Back to Mayoi, though. The tale told by Shinobu isn’t the only ‘time’ in this story, and the darkness slots neatly into the present day as well. Mayoi, also, is cursed by time. Eleven years of being lost and getting others lost is not time well spent. For Mayoi, too, as soon as her natural curse is dissipated, the darkness arrives to plug the gap. For Mayoi, too, there is a limit, an allotted amount of time that she can spend in the company of others. 

As Izuko puts it, they’re both liars. Shinobu lied by omission, failing to inform the villagers of her vampiric nature, posing as a god without genuinely fulfilling the role of one. Her crime was indifference, or a deliberate facade of such. She made no attempt to communicate with others, and as a result they never got to know her. Unspoken truths, left on the table forever. 

Mayoi, though - Koyomi denies quite flatly that she ever lied to him. He knows she doesn’t want to be a liar, doesn’t want to act rude to passers-by in order to put them off. So Izuko makes the accusation lying to herself. Making Mayoi herself the victim of the crime, because in doing her best to avoid causing trouble for others, she let herself suffer silently. She, too, has left truths unspoken, never clarifies the nature of her relationship with Koyomi, the nature of the gag routines they always do, the nature of her existence, what she really wants. 

Time can solve the vast majority of people’s problems, Numachi Rouka says in Hanamonogatari, and throughout Second Season we see characters put this advice into action by running away. Kanbaru’s aimless sprinting, Shinobu’s mighty vertical leaps, Nadeko’s deflection and looking aside - they’re all examples of people trying to avoid confronting their troubles. Trying to get lost. I’ll get lost with you forever, Koyomi says to Mayoi, and he’s not just talking about an unspecified location. He’s talking about losing his entire life, failing to confront the things & people he really ought to. 

Mayoi, on the contrary, doesn’t try to run away in the slightest. She doesn’t wait for the darkness to catch her, she goes out on her own terms and in her own time. In doing so she drops the shield of banter and irony she and Koyomi have used to make their relationship and feelings for each other ambiguous this whole time. He knows she’s been biting her tongue on purpose, but before now that was left as an unspoken truth. In a similar way, even Koyomi’s aggressive lecherousness towards her tells you something about their relationship. He does, in reality, experience desire for her, but exaggerates so much in the expression of it that it comes off as more of a gag than anything, which perversely becomes more comfortable for Mayoi. She can simply brush it off as a regular routine while continuing to scorn him as a lolicon.

An actual, genuine kiss is the exact opposite of his indiscriminate licking, and it comes along with an actual, genuine confession, albeit delivered in the past tense. Perhaps the only situation where she could have brought herself to say it. 

After all, unlike Shinobu, there’s no way out. Mayoi is doomed from the start, by nature of being already dead. Unlike a vampire, ghosts don’t truly continue living after death, can’t actually change, especially not into a god of all things, that would be ridiculous-

Dear reader, I have watched this series before. As much as it’s in my nature to over-dramatize the tragedy of this arc, it seems more fitting to leave it on a hopeful note. Because Hachikuji Mayoi, in her final moments, did stop lying to herself. She stopped trying so hard to remain a ghost, a being that can’t change, and instead reached for something new - an unfulfilled regret different from the one that originally extended her existence. 

I think in a fundamentally fair world it makes sense that would leave room for her to be saved. 

[unbotheredalwyn]

You're on your own kid pisses me off so much. Never in her life has she been alone or had to work for anything. There was never a point where she needed a job or was worried about missing bills, she knew she was going to get that singing career regardless of talent from the start. Even when she was just starting out, daddy's money covered her ass during every scandal- she always knew she could come back from anything because everyone on her payroll, and now her cult has her back. She was hand built an elevator to the top and is complaining she has to occasionally press the button herself.

Anon you are so right.

Also the audacity to say she was raised in an asylum yet owned horses and shit excuse me what???

Sorry we didn't all grow up in a mansion and had daddy's money.

Also side note her parents really are horrible. I found out on reddit that Andrea basically told Taylor to stop eating because "no one likes a fat pop star"

I don't think Andrea and Scott give a damn about her.

Taylor can literally snap her fingers and all her yes men would comply. I fail to see how she was ever alone.

Also she pushes people away that genuinely cared about her (Joe for example or Karlie kloss)

She's surrounded by fake people and I think she wants it that way.

[tenderhungering]

Have you noticed how women are used in the film? Their suffering, grief, ambitions and even deaths. It all benefits the men.

yes, i have! i think it was during the first time i watched with two of my friends that we mentioned how fucked up it seemed to bring in lilly. she was an abused child in circumstances that june describes as inhumane and now she's supposed to come on and chat about said abuse.

to better delve into this though, i'm going to do a little ramble on each female character (i've been meaning to this regardless so this question has me excited!)

Lilly

as i mentioned before, lilly, to the public, is an abused child who has been rescued from a cult and is now the subject of dr. june's book. i believe that june really did care for lilly but she in a way, was still benefiting from her by writing about her. something to study while parenting. reminds me a bit about parents who write about raising troubled children.

jack brings them onto the show almost because he knows how shocking this is to audiences, to have survived what lilly did. i think that fear and shame but also desire kiss on the mouth. the public both fears the occult but want to learn more, there is some sort of fascination with the idea of someone being in it and being able to get out of it (would people do the same?). lilly is a spectacle. she is to go from not knowing the outside world to standing in front of the camera and expecting to behave like a typical girl her age. it's almost like she has to prove herself well-adjusted after her trauma.

june explains to her that everyone having a demon inside of them, acknowledging that lilly's might be a little more literal but because the demon serves as a stark reminder of her time in the cult, it's similar to someone working around their triggers. everyone has hurt in them. like a therapist helping you work with carrying that hurt rather than just suppressing it. clearly the demon leaves lilly exhausted, upset and feel not like herself. she's crying after her scene and asking june as to why she's hurt her, and apologizing for whatever happened when Mr. Wriggles was there. she is not in control of her actions. but jack wants more. he's momentarily sympathetic but realizes that it's getting him higher ratings. the more hurt is displayed, the happier than the media is.

even in the final scene, when the demon possesses her, we can see it in her face that she's distraught. confused. but all the camera does is zoom in on her expression,

June

june is so intriguing to me as a character because it's almost as though her instinct toward things is a calm and collected behavior, one that thinks of the ethics of it, whether anyone will get hurt, but her decisions are so easily swayed by jack. and he knows exactly what to tell her too. Everyone finally take you seriously. It is the 70s so there's no surprise that misogyny is rampant (though the 70s did introduce the second wave of feminism, she may be a representation of challenging attitudes as well). june is a very passionate woman in her studies, she'd be considered an expert in the field but this is almost immediately dismissed as soon as she's introduced as a doctor. you call yourself that. is that what you believe you are? can you prove you are?

i think it makes june feel better if everyone has a distance from lilly - hence writing a book about her. you can know lilly through the pages. you don't need to make her suffer for views then, you can educate yourself on what was happened to her and understand she's hurt more than necessary. she might've felt the need to write the book for them both. lilly need to be understood and emphasized with as more than just a "child of d'abo". but jack invites her with the idea of simply talking about said book, one of her biggest accomplishments and instead wants to treat them like some sort of circus act. do a trick for me, june! you know how to! it's not enough that you tell me you know, you have to show me, you have to prove yourself to me, the camera makes it real.

it is that logic that sometimes makes her feel inclined to prove herself. and sometimes this is at the cost of her own morals.

Minnie

my beautiful wife,,,

i love minnie. so much. i've written a bit about how i think she was prior to her death in other asks but i never quite touch so much on how much she was exploited by both jack and the industry.

to be ill is a personal affair. and it was on all the tabloids whenever minnie was diagnosed with cancer (even if she did not smoke! i mention this because while smoking might contribute to lung cancer, it did feel like an odd mention that they'd pay so much attention to whether or not she did? it might've been to emphasize how sudden this all was but i'd also like to throw in that perhaps she was also just taking care of her voice! she was in theatre.) she has no privacy to mourn the gradual loss of her life. some people believe the cult was implied to be the one who had made this illness manifest for her which is awful in its own regard and more so when one considers the fact they did it to get to jack. almost as though minnie is an extension of himself and not his own person.

jack inviting her to the show could very well be done just because he wanted to invite his wife (though it does feel a bit odd he waited till she was sick to do this. maybe it was some sort of public gesture of affection, they both live to entertain, it's their job) but there's something saddening about the ordeal. it's almost as though knowing minnie was sick was not enough, the public had to see her in order to have some sort of confirmation. and the immediate comment about inviting her over being followed how even then, this wasn't enough to surpass johnny carson is morbid to say the least. almost as though minnie had just been used as a way to gain better ratings. sympathy ratings. i don't want to remove any agency of minnie, it might have been her decision to go on the show but the public's reaction to is that is what is more concerning.

even her death was simply a sacrifice. she was nothing more than a missing puzzle piece to have jack move forward (or downwards?). something that would benefit jack. as all the women in the film have been. each with such distinct personalties and motives to what keeps them going (or who are still amidst figuring out what they'd want out of life) being only part of a larger scheme where men are the benefactors. the grove only allowed men. the cult birthed sacrifices from their women. women are a stepping stone. a chess piece. something that needs to bleed for someone who demands it.

i love writing about how compelling these characters are! so sorry if sometimes my ramblings feel leaning more towards just dissection rather than downright analysis! i hope it gave some insight though!

[wingspiked]

hsr spoilers AND SLIGHT LEAKS ment / - on the aftermath and a certain theory.

after jenna sent me a particular twitter thread - have since gone feral.

i know we are all wondering what happened to sunday after the events of the trailblaze quest. i encourage you all to play through the epilogue (go back to the hallway of the grand theater and you will receive a text from robin) - it essentially confirms that he is not dead, but he is injured and very, very lonely and sad. but what happened to him? robin tells us when she awakens that he is no longer there - nowhere to be found. the implication being that he was either taken away - or more than likely absconded himself in misery to lick his wounds.

i think sunday is having a difficult time facing robin - because while ultimately his goals were not... 'wrong' they were just fundamentally flawed. the intentions were good - the underlying value understandable, but everything else surrounding it not so much. unfortunately - sunday was raised in a cult, raised literally to be this person - he is the charmony dove that was rescued and fell to it's death, but that's to be touched on another day.

anyways - again, what happened to sunday? there is a very plausible theory - that after the events of penacony, sunday is picked up by elio - and becomes a stellaron hunter.

'SAFF WHERE TF DID YOU GET THAT CRACKPOT THEORY FROM?' i'm glad you asked let me tell you!

in dreamflux rift - south of the bygoneville space anchor, there is a trash can in a tiny alcove. next to the trash can - is a poem titled 'death of the crow.'

the fact that it is listed as a mysterious invitation - is extremely important, but we'll circle back to that. the poem reads as follows:

now obviously this is very much an offshoot of edgar allan poe's 'the raven.' this is especially telling for a number of a reasons - as robin is riddled with emily dickinson motif's, and it would make sense that sunday (who is shown to have black wings wrapped around his waist similar to how robin has white) would be related to poe. additionally - while the birds that follow sunday around could've very well been his familiars - it's also possible that they are instead the dreammaster constantly keeping watch on sunday. regardless - he is surrounded by raven / crow and even dove motifs, where robin is very much little white or pure blue birds.

lets break it down bit by bit -

the first two stanzas set up the mention of the 'dying baby dove' - which is a direct correlation to the charmony dove that robin and sunday rescued as children, which lets us know that yes - this poem is almost MOST CERTAINLY about him. that dove obviously had a PROFOUND effect on sunday - who watched it die the second robin left to travel, despite their best efforts.

the third stanza is a bit more interesting. it begins to allude to sunday's warping vision of the world - likely after he became bronze melodia, and he started to see injustice and cruelty and had to make decisions on the behalf of harmony that were not conducive to his ideals. ADDITIONALLY, this stanza brings up "a flame-bathed raven, it's voice rasp that sings" which is MORE THAN LIKELY gopher wood given the following two stanzas.

these are more telling in different ways - because sunday was very much RAISED IN A CULT. he was fed immeasurable propaganda by the dreammaster (who is a halovian with black wings, by the way, when he did possess a form). while sunday is guilty of his actions - i want to circle back to that. this is the man that raised him. he was basically made for this. it's all he knows. anyways.

this line here is a direct representation of sunday switching from xipe's tune to ena - lest we forget that xipe DID absorb ena, so therefore to the halovian siblings, it is simply a different tune, is it not?

there is also the theory that the "flame-bathed raven" could be a direct reference to firefly - who's theme is 'nevermore' and she is incapable of dreaming, but it is more likely the poem is referencing gopher wood.

the next two stanzas mention 'scrying the world's pain' is very much a reference to sunday's overwhelming and misguided compassion - for how can he sit by and do nothing when he witnesses so much of it everyday. his heart 'grew resolute' in the wake of it - and thus he made the choice. sunday would then "ascend the stage" and "strive for divinity" - he draws back the curtain to his "utopia of absolute bliss" - HOWEVER....

" the dream is over, brother. "

the next stanza goes onto describe sunday losing the god's favor - casting him into darkness, and him likely being ready to fall and to die. BUT WHAT I WROTE ALL OF THIS FOR - WHAT I WANT EVERY TO FOCUS ON. IS THE LAST STANZA which i very much believe to be written by destiny's slave himself: elio.

once again - this is described as an invitation. this poem is elio inviting sunday to join the stellaron hunters "here lie the truest dreams, where infinite possibilities lope" "here all your ambitions shall be fulfilled and set aflame" - where else could sunday fulfill his desire for an elimination of worldly strife? where else could he turn but to the stellaron hunter's - who are all immensely powerful beings, with various goals that only elio's future can assist them in fulfilling? he is a PERFECT fit for the stellaron hunters, and a lethal one at that - with immeasurable power that he has barely demonstrated by his own hand.

there is another hint towards this as well - the poem / invitation is written by 'cecil simmes' by this twitter user:

SMALL LEAKS AHEAD!!!!

there is a light cone coming out that features sunday on it, in front of a gramophone. what other stellaron hunter has such a lightcone? well...

it has been suggested that elio utilized these for communication - which leads me to my next point, the description of this leaked light cone:

this lc description could be very well based on sunday heading to join the hunters after receiving the invitation (POTENTIALLY also via gramophone).

also, elio writing the penacony script? yeah.

one more thing to touch base on - we don't really actually know what happens to firefly at the very end. assumedly she's fine (they won't kill a stellaron hunter permanently - at least not yet). with sunday disappearing - i genuinely think it's VERY possible she picked him up and he could be with the hunters, as we speak, or at least healing somewhere since we know he was injured.

anyways! i genuinely, actually, 100% think this to be a VERY possible theory. HSR is known for scattering lore tidbits in the most skewed of places - leaving breadcrumbs for their players to find. i think it's even more possible because sunday's playability is not really in sight anywhere, and it's very likely he will be getting an outfit change for this etc, so we might end up with a unique model in comparison. i am sincerely glad he is alive though, and that we will likely be seeing him in the future. i do think this would be the correct path to take his character - as the stellaron hunters - while morally grey - are not without what could be deemed 'a good cause,' one that - i think - sunday fits in well to. so here is hoping we are right, and his next appearance will be as stellaron hunter: sunday.

credits -

big shout out to @defiedlife for letting me brainrot at you and assisting me with this, and i encourage everyone to read THIS twitter thread, and THIS reddit thread - which are a touch more cohesive than my excited rambling.

[spectator-moon]

"Helio wouldn't have let that happen."

But. He. Did.

I have so many emotions and I saw a couple pictures of Buddy so yunno art did a thing

Also pictures of this with Cotton candy Bitchfuck beside him being the little creep she is

And more Rambles under the cut!

I so desperately want Buddy to not meet Helio. Because he was raised in a cult. He was raised, literally and figuratively, to die in Helio's name. So if he meets Helio, regardless of how he feels about his death, it is over for him. He is done.

I want this to happen.

Buddy Dawn opens his eyes, and he is not greeted by the endless corn fields of his god. No, he finds himself in a forest at night. He hears the skittering of small (and perhaps very large) things moving about, just out of sight, and he instinctively moves to grasp his holy symbol (which, for dramatic reasons, is around his neck). But it is not there. Instead, he meets a hand. It is warm, pleasantly so, under the cool chill of the wind. It carefully takes his, and as his eyes clear, he sees in front of him, Kristen Applebees. But not quite.

The being before him is a Kristen with long hair, in a ponytail, and a tye-dye camp t-shirt (he thinks of a summer camp he went to, and quietly notices the same style). She is clearly not mortal.

But Buddy Dawn was raised nothing if not righteous under Helio's law. So he asks, "Where is Helio? Where is my god?"

She, who he now knows is Cassandra, tells him, "Are you sure he was yours? Or were you his?"

And Buddy thinks. He thinks of days in service where he could barely breathe for the singing, of days where he saw people around him use Helio to do terrible things, of days where he could not eat enough because of how weak (malnourished) he had become and the tests. The tests upon tests of his faith, where he wondered, if only for a moment, if Helio was worth this.

Buddy Dawn hears a branch snap, somewhere off in the woods. Close. Too close. It is so dark in these woods. He realises he may be scared. He doesn't know how to fight. Not really. Rats and spiders can only do so much.

Cassandra takes his hands again, from where they have fallen beside him. She looks him dead in his Helio-worshipping eyes, and tells him, "This is what I offer."

And he thinks, What is she saying? Fear? That is what she offers?

"I," Cassandra says, "offer this. There is doubt. You are in the woods, at night. But you are not alone. I am holding your hand. You cannot be hurt with me. It does not matter what is lurking in the trees. It could be a monster, but it could also be...a fox! Or a rabbit. Just because there is noise does not mean it could hurt you. I am the goddess of finding comfort in doubt, in uncertainty. You do not have to fear."

And Buddy Dawn, Helioic to his very core, begins to cry. "I was a kid. That isn't fair! I wanted to live."

And Cassandra, goddess of the unknown, smiles, and tells him, "Would you like to become alive again?"

He asks, through tears on his bloodstained clothes, "What?"

And she tells him, "Were you ever really alive, or did Helio just tell you that you weren't only surviving?"

And she hugs him, and he feels his throat close, and it is comforting. She gave him a sentence that most Helioic people would run from in fear, and it is comforting.

And Buddy Dawn wakes up.

___

Spreading my Buddy Dawn, prophet of Cassandra propaganda everywhere I go. He needs to be reformed.

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

Would you ever write a modern AU one shot/headcanons that would include Varang in any way? I don't think I've seen anyone write anything about her in the modern world. Can you see any universe where she would date Quaritch and be Spider's stepmother?

I’m not opposed to it and as I thought about your ask I definitely got ideas that I’m excited to share!

First I’m personally not into the idea of Quaritch and Varang getting together. I think she’s going to be way more crazy and evil than he is pushing Quaritch more towards the good guys. I don’t think he going to have a redemption arc by any means (nor does he deserve one) but I think for the sake of Spider he’ll be a begrudging anti hero. Also I can’t deny despite the fact the actors are playing characters that our roughly in the same physical age range I can’t separate the actors massive age gap from their characters. If they got together I’d just be thinking about how someone in their thirties is making out with someone in their seventies and cringe. So yeah I just don’t want to see that.

As for some modern au ideas:

So I don’t think I’m really theorizing when I say Varang is going to be a cult leader. It seems pretty clear from everything we’ve learned.

So in a modern a.u she’d still be a cult leader. She runs a compound down in Texas that’s fully self sufficient and off the grid. On the surface it’s a utopia. She takes in every “lost soul” who comes her way. Drug addicts, homeless, queer people, gender non conforming people and just people disillusioned with life and wanting something better. And at first it is great. Everyone gets a room to themselves. They get to pick a job on property, farming, taking care of livestock, managing the power grid, making clothes, cooking, those kind of things. If they need medical care or mental health care they get it completely for free. There’s a real sense of community that most people have never felt before.

It creates the foundation for complete devotion to Varang. Varang saved you. Varang gave you a life. A family. And she is the head of that family. They worship her like their god every night. Listen to her preach about life and the way things should be. How the rest of the world is evil and cruel. How she is the only one that can protect them from that.

If you want to move up the ladder you have to show how devoted you are to Varang. The first step is getting Varang’s symbol branded on your body, typically on the shoulder or wrist. They wear bright red and all wear their hair in the same style regardless of gender identity.

Of course the cult gets into legal trouble every once in a while. Family members of cult members who are worried sick about their child, or sibling, or spouse and try to sue or involve the police to get them back. Varang orders her most loyal to send them a message. They send snakes and dead animals in boxes. Draw messages in blood on their driveways. Stand outside their work for hours to intimidate them.

Varang starts stockpiling weapons preparing for the day when they’ll have to make a stand against the government. It hasn’t come yet but they are ready. Ready for full on war.

As for a story since I write manly about Quaritch and Spider I have an idea set more in my Military Brat au where Quaritch is an overbearing dad raising his son as a single parent. He’s so strict and smothering that at age 16, Miles Jr, who he refuses to call by his chosen name Spider runs away from home. Spider having been raised like he was in the military is really good at staying gone, having no issue living in the woods, sneaking onto delivery trucks, trains and buses until he ends up in Texas. Quaritch is hunting him down the entire time terrified for his son.

While in Texas Spider gets found by a truck driver and the driver is pissed at his hitchhiker. Spider is running for dear life. The driver chases him with a gun. At some point in the chase Spider trips, falls down a steep hill and into the dense foliage at the bottom. On his way down his ankle catches on something and twists. Luckily he loses the truck driver but now he can’t walk. He wads up his shirt to bit down on while he sets his own ankle. Then he rips it into strips, takes some thick sticks and wraps it around his ankle to stabilize it. He painfully limps his way to the road. Cars pass him up for hours. It’s one in the morning he’s freezing cold and starving when a bright red car pulls up. There’s two people in there mid thirties inside dressed completely the same in the same shade of red as the car. It totally creeps him out but he’s desperate for help. He gets in the car.

The compound seems really nice on the surface but Spider’s stomach is still squirming. He’s immediately taken to the med bay to get his ankle properly treated. Then they show him to the bathroom so he can have a hot bath. A hearty meal and fresh clothes are waiting for him in his room. Spider stays there while he heals but of course he never gives into their brain washing. The nightly gatherings where they all worship Varang freak him the fuck out and everyone is just too docile. Like a heard of sheep. Once he’s fully healed he’ll run again. 

After some investigating Quaritch finds out Spider is there. He calls the cops to get his son back but they drag their feet. They explain to Quaritch that his son is in a dangerous cult. A cult that will violently retaliate if they go after them. The authorities know it’s them but they have no real evidence. But if they could get some evidence of wrongdoing then they’d have reason to shut the whole place down. Quaritch agrees to enter the cult to get back his son and find a way to shut them down.

Spider’s been there for months at this point and he’s completely healed. But when he tries to escape he’s caught and brought straight to Varang. Her voice is smooth like a cats purr. She seems so gentle and understanding. To the motherless boy it’s so inviting and part of him want to give into her. But theirs a cruelty in her eyes. A harshness in her smile that puts him off. He wants to try and run again but instinct tells him that’s a dangerous idea. He’d have to bide his time, be observant and wait for the perfect opportunity if he was going to get away.

But one day he’s sitting in his room trying and failing to read a book, daydreaming out the window. At first he can’t believe but when he realizes what he’s seeing he’s insanely relieved to sees his dad walking up to the main house flanked by two higher up. He almost can’t remember why he ran away as he races from the room. He’s scared of this weird creepy place and he wants to go home. “Dad,” he yells running up to him.

His dad wraps him up in fierce hug, sighing in relief. “There’s my boy.”

“This is your son,” one of the higher ups says, clearly unhappy and defensive.

“He sure is,” Quaritch says putting an arm around Spider’s shoulders, “of course I was terrified when I’d first learned where my boy had run off too. But as I learned more about your place here - it seemed like paradise. I want to start again. I want to serve Varang.”

Spider gives him a look that screams, “what the fuck kind of koolaid have you been sipping.” The higher ups are satisfied with this answer though. But this is such a strange situation for them that they take father and son right to Varang.

The woman stoically takes them both in as a subordinate whispers in her ear. There’s a sharp intelligence in her eyes as she mentally dissect them. “Well, now I can see where Spider got his good looks.”

Quaritch scoffs, “his name is Miles,” the boy’s shoulders slump, gaze going to the ground, “and he takes after my late wife not me.”

Varang clicks her tongue her eyes saying sure whatever . “It’s been a joy having Spider here with us. He was in quite the state when we found him…”

“State? What state?” Quaritch asks in a panic his attention going to his son. He grabs the boy’s shoulder trying to get him to look him in the eye. “Miles? What happened to you?” He mumbles a response making his father’s anger flare. “Don’t mumble, answer me like a man!”

“I just twisted my ankle!”

Quaritch automatically went into helicopter mode, “twisted your ankle! Which one! How were you treated! Are you completely healed?! I want x-rays! I want your medical record! I…

Varang clears her throat to get his attention. “Well I see why you ran away.”

Quaritch snarls, “he was just being rebellious.”

“Why don’t you let Spider speak for himself.” All eyes turn to him. Spider stays quiet. “Were you afraid of your father Spider?”

“What? No!”

“I’ve never laid a hand on my boy!”

Varang raises a skeptical eyebrow, “well how was I to know? People who feel loved, safe and supported typically don’t run away from home.” Quaritch growls. “I have a proposition. I don’t believe that you are here for the reasons you say and I do not believe that you are as decent of a father as you think you are. But I would love to be proven wrong. So, tonight, unburden yourself.”

“What?”

Spider’s blood runs cold. He’s heard people talking about the “unburdening”. You sit around a fire and tell everyone your deepest secrets. It sounds simple but he’s seen it at a distance and it looks freaky.

Varang explains a simple version of it to Quaritch. He agrees to go through it.

That night father and son are led out to a field. The fire is already burning bright. Drummers are playing a stirring beat. Varang and her closest followers are decked out in bright red but more notable Varang is wearing a terrifyingly impressive head dress while everyone else is in horrific masks. On instinct Quaritch pulls Spider into his side. Spider happily accepts the protection, feeling like he’s about to be a human sacrifice. “Sit on opposite sides of the fire,” Varang purrs. Quaritch is reluctant to let go of his son but he does. They stair into each other’s eyes through the flames. Varang throws some kind of powder into the fire sending up a purplish red smoke.

Quaritch wants to run to cover Spider’s mouth. The boy is asthmatic and this smoke could cause him to have an attack. But he stays put. He has a sneaking suspicion that some kind of drug is in this smoke. He takes short slow breaths. He doesn’t want to get so stoned that he lets slip all the reasons he’s there. “Breathe deep,” Varang says. Neither do. A whole ten minutes of pounding music go by, the others gathered dancing around them. Spider is so dizzy. Quaritch isn’t as bad but he’s feeling it. Finally Varang asks, “Spider, why did you run away?”

“Because of my dad,” Spider says his words slurring. Quaritch knew that deep down. He just made excuses for himself and blamed his son so he didn’t have to deal with the pain of rejection and failure.

“What did your father do?”

“He’s so fucking controlling! I feel like a prisoner in my own home. I can’t hang out with my friends, I can’t join clubs or go on school field trips unless he’s chaperone. He tracks my location. He won’t let me eat junk food. He has a schedule for every day of the week. It’s down to the fucking minute! I can’t even express myself! He won’t use the name I picked. I can’t wear the clothes I want or style my hair the way I want. He wants me to be a mini him! And I couldn’t take it anymore! I couldn’t….”

Spider starts crying. Quaritch’s heart is breaking for him. “I just wanted to do what I thought was best for you…”

“This is what’s best for me! I feel like you’re crushing me! You reject everything I want to be! Can you even love me if I’m not like you!”

“Of course I love you! Don’t you ever think that I don’t!” It has to be the drugs getting to him because now Quaritch thinks he might start crying. “Every day you were away from me all I wanted was to have you back. God, I laid awake all night stairing at disgusting motel room walls thinkin’ I’d give anything just to know that you were okay. I don’t care how you dress or if you go hang out with your friends. None of that matters to me anymore! I just want you to come home.”

Spider is sobbing now, “I want to go home too dad!”

“But you are home,” Varang says dangerously sweet, “right.”

Quaritch is having trouble thinking through the fog around his brain. Focus he wills himself. “Yes,” he slurs, “we’re home now. We’re going to start over.”

“Excellent.”

“No dad!” Spider shrieks, “I want to go home! Please! I can’t stay here!”

“It’s okay son. Everything is going to be okay. You’ll see.”

The ceremony ends. It’s eerily quiet without the drums. Everyone is still. “Help them to their new home,” Varang says.

They’re brought to a decently sized two bedroom apartment. The furniture looks like it was all made by hand. Everything is painted in warm dark browns and bright reds. It’s not super inviting but it has everything they need.

It takes a couple hours but they eventually sober up. The first thing Quaritch does is checks the place for cameras and microphones. Sure enough he finds them in every room but the bathroom. He takes Spider in there to talk.

“Let me get a good look at y’a,” Quaritch says gently. Despite their reunion earlier in the day Quaritch feels like he’s really seeing his son for the first time. He cups Spider’s face in both his hands. He’s not my little boy anymore. It’s a painful realization but he’s looking at a young man. He’s lost a little bit of weight without his father’s workout regime and hearty protein rich home cooking. He’s wearing ripped jeans and a band t-shirt. His hair has gotten really long. It’s pulled back in a ponytail but Quaritch takes it out combing the curly strands with his fingers. His son looks insanely uncomfortable probably thinking his dad was about to go for the scissors. Quaritch smiles softly at him, “it suits you.”

Spider brightens, “thanks dad.”

Quaritch’s hand move to the back of Spider’s head. He pulls him in close so their foreheads touch. “I’m so sorry. For everything. I love you so much Spider.”

Spider feels like he might cry again. “I know. I love you too dad.” They stay like that a moment before breaking away. “You don’t seriously want to stay here right?”

“Fuck no. But they’re not just gonna let us walk out the front door. This cult is dangerous. Even the cops won’t mess with them. So we need to be quiet and careful. We’ll play along. Get evidence of any laws they might be breaking. That way we have something to use against them when we escape because you know they’ll come after us when we do.” Spider nods determined for them both to get free.

They move to the living room where they cuddle up on the couch. Quaritch wants to see Spider’s recently twisted ankle so Spider lays it across his lap. He turns it this way and that determining that it actually was well taken care of. Then they just relax together, happy to be together again. It’s a nice moment of peace despite the danger surrounding them.

And I’m going to end it there! I know how I would end this but I always love hearing from people. You all have given me some great ideas before and made me think about things I never would have on my own so feel free to reach out. 💞

[tornrose24]

When you said the devoted followers tried to “get close to them,” do you mean they tried to flirt with the girls to marry into the lords’ houses?

What became of Mabel and her family after star and Stan freed them from bill’s influence?

Do the collector and hunter still exist in this au, if yes, what roles do they play?

-See, while not everyone in the village believes in Belos (especially when some of them weren’t born and raised), there’s always that one group of religious nutjobs who buys into everything he says (like any religious cult). Now, the lords aren’t singing his praises, but it’s obvious to the villagers that the lords have some sort of connection with Belos, and if the nutjobs can’t win direct favor with Belos, they will try to with the lords. So imagine people kissing up to you and saying ‘oh how grand of Belos to approve of this adoption.’ 

Though I would also imagine that there are other villagers who aren’t nutjobs, but are trying to kiss up to the lords to try to win favor with them, either by trying to claim that they did a good thing adopting the girls, or are just trying to be immediately friendly with Molly and Luz upon knowing their new importance. If they have kids close to the girls’ age, then some folks might be trying to win favor in order to ensure a future marriage arrangement (which actually fell out of favor thanks to Eclipsa ensuring that practice was banned due to personal experiences with it). I’m sure their parents–adopted, but also biological if they caught wind of it–would beat the ass of ANYONE who tried to flirt with the girls right then and there, given how young the girls are. Considering marrying into their houses via the girls? Yeah, you pretty much signed your death warrant on the spot.

The ironic thing is that 1. Both girls were commoners and looked down by the upperclass of the village, (such as the Blight family). 2. Luz was kind of one of those weird kids to begin with, so she wasn’t well-liked by a lot of adults. 3. Not only are both Molly and Luz aware that they were looked down on, but they were adopted by the two most reclusive of the lords, and they were NOT in the mood for any ass-kissing. So yeah… no one got on the lords’ good sides on those days and Molly and Luz were kept at their respective new houses for a couple of days until things calmed down again.

Side note-when I say upperclass, I mean the group of villagers who are the most financially well -off and run businesses. The lords rank above them, regardless of how much wealth they themselves posess, which annoys the rich folks. And since I mentioned the Blight family I can confirm that Luz and Amity are a canon couple in this story. (They just keep it secret because… well… Belos is a tad homophobic here and isn’t keen on letting anyone marry whoever they want unless they will have children.)

-I’m happy to say that the entire Pines family are saved in their part of the AU. They all are going to need therapy though. Mabel is happy to be freed and to have her brother back, Dipper was saved from crystalization, although it’s going to take him awhile to get his hair color back (“You look like our grunkles, Dipper!” Mabel comments, much to Dipper’s annoyance), Soos is happy that he’s not trying to kill any kids or his father figure, and Ford…. Well, Stan gives him an EPIC verbal beatdown for bringing Bill into their lives in the first place. Also Stan is just happy his family is safe, sane, and healthy (and that he got to beat up some monsters in the process and be a badass).

[oc-tournaments]

ROUND THREE - MATCH 5

DANZYMYR MAENELD vs TAMARA

DANZYMYR MAENELD: @mitsubinyuri

TAMARA: @wokeuptraveledstraightintothesun

VOTE BASED ON THE INFORMATION BELOW CUT!!

Propaganda Content Warnings: Parental death for DANZYMYR, abandonment, experimenting and cult mentions for TAMARA.

DANZYMYR MAENELD:

PROPAGANDA: Danzymyr is a male Drow so already not off to a great start. His mother was like... standard evil drow matriarch. Because he was of high status he was treated a little better than other Drow males but still pretty damn terribly. His house, House Maeneld, was on the way out in terms of power and influence and due to the constant jockeying for status in Drow society his mom was intent to use him as a tool to further the house, as with all of his other siblings.

He went to school in Menzoberranzan to be a warrior, and while he was there, he met another student who he ended up becoming close with. This other student was a member of a much more influential house, and long story short his mother found out and wanted to use his closeness to this guy to infiltrate the house and do a whole lot of murder. He was kind of like okay! Sure!

But he lost his nerve right before reaching the place. He escaped to the surface instead, where shit was awful for him. The Drow's sunlight sensitivity made it so that he was in constant pain and most people didn't look too favorably upon him. Eventually, he took up a career as a monster hunter, gaining more and more begrudging respect until he eventually became an adventurer, and later, hero. All the while he's still traumatized from how he was raised and is deathly terrified of spiders.

Eventually he decides he needs to go back to confront his past, so he does. He returns to the house where he was raised and finds out that the guy he was "very good friends" with died anyway (due to his mother's intervention). He ends up killing his mother and actively enjoys it and that causes a big sense of shame.

Then he's sent to a magic prison where they get their minds probed by an aasimar for abstract visions of their psyche given in the form of song where he'll be judged innocent or guilty. He falls in love with a druid who has a crazy savior complex and is enforcing terrible restrictions on the other prisoners, and he's like "wait he's not that bad!" They make each other worse lol.

THEME SONG:

TAMARA:

PROPAGANDA: let’s see, lost her family at 7 years old (none of them died there was just a house fire where she was put inside an iron stove to “protect” her by her father (her father doesn’t like her can you tell) and they left her there (the rest of her family thought she’d left already)), (un)fortunately picked up by a guy who took her to a very ethical lab where she was healed! And then forced through many painful experiments. Also she was the executioner for a Lot of people later in the lab time and she’s not even 16 yet. So she escapes at age 16 and spends a year with her girlfriend just existing and processing (poorly) what she had to live through and trying to acclimate to life outside of The Lab. Then her girlfriend (who is a cyborg fun fact) got a virus and so she had to be decommissioned which was not a good time for Tamara.

Other physical details: One of the experiments was a test in how high someone’s empathy can get and. Tamara’s the highest Kyne (the one guy who loves experimenting on her) got. So she’s having a Time. She has lost sensation in her extremities, her bones are weak as Fuck due to being part bird (because of very little bone marrow and airy bones), and she just always looks soggy regardless. Also she’s trans

So she just can Not catch a break and she unfortunately gets exploited by her need for parental love and general guidance in her life and joins a cult :( Like can you see the fact that she just cannot stop being kicked while she is down. (I love her to bits and she is my favorite oc I promise)

THEME SONG:

[canmom]

l'aventure de canmom à annecy épisode DEUX - lundi 2 - cats and pigs

So this one's going to be a little chaotic in terms of order of events but hey. Let's gooo.

First up! I saw Flow, as mentioned earlier. Director Gints Zilbalodis from Latvia was the very first person to win the Contrechamp award at Annecy in 2019 for his solo-animated movie Away. Now he has a team, and they decided to make a totally wordless movie about a cat. Honestly I could leave it at that - this is a movie which you should watch unspoiled and just let it take you on a ride - but for a more detailed summary...

Our adorable little cat is living alone in the forest, surrounded by statues left by their former owner, when the world abruptly gets flooded, sending the cat on a journey to try to find higher ground and survive. The cat falls in with a group of other animals - over the course of the film, this group grows to include a capybara, a ring-tailed lemur, a secretarybird and a dog. It's the story of the struggles of these animals as they try to navigate the rising water towards higher ground, dealing with both outside threats and conflict within the group. I won't tell you where they end up but things get a tad mystical.

The thing is this film is totally wordless. The animation has to do absolutely everything. And it does so with aplomb. This is hands down some of the best character animation I've ever seen in a CG movie. Every animal moves naturally and expressively, their relationships shown with humour and clear expression. I honestly don't know how they did it so well.

It's also gorgeous on a rendering level. I'm not entirely sold on the posterisation effect used on the animals, but their environments are so vivid and richly detailed, looking natural even as they enter stranger architectural zones. Under water, over water, in storms... it looks absolutely great. It makes me so happy that this was done in Blender, it's like, that's what we dreamed of back in the day on the blenderartists forums.

The film already got a Cannes nom, which is wild for animation, and honestly while I haven't seen the other features yet, this is gonna be a tough act to follow and I think it has a pretty good shot at winning. I have no insight into the mind of the annecy jurors though! Regardless, spectacular film, makes me really want to make shit in blender lol.

I got some photos of the team getting a standing ovation at the end but it's super late so I'll have to upload them later lol.

Later I saw the premiere of The Pig That Survived Foot and Mouth Disease, a new Korean film which makes a much better case for using mocap in an animated horror movie, also in the midnight specials slot. Impressively all the roles of around 30 characters were played by one mocap actor, which is wild. It's a classic Korean style of film - a spiral of death and trauma rooted in social violence, particularly military hazing and animal agriculture.

A pig, surviving the mass slaughter of pigs during the foot and mouth epidemic, eats the body of the farmer who raised him and transforms to become more human and becomes something of a cult leader for wild boars; a military deserter becomes a yeti-like creature but finds new hope when he rescues a girl from her suicide attempt, but is she even real?

It calls to mind films like King of Pigs and The Fake, and it's no less uncompromisingly bleak in its view of society - but by comparison to those films, it's shot very stylishly, with a cool nonphotorealistic shader and a frequently gorgeous forest setting. It's not as fancy as something like Flow, the models looking a little videogamey at times, but it's definitely solid - the rigs detailed enough to capture the acting. The style works very well for the film, and there's a couple of really standout stylised sequences, playing with religious iconography or dream sequences.

The film it reminded me most of is actually Unicorn Wars, another violent story of transformation and people going a bit nuts in the woods. But it also gets a bit Shakespearean with all the stabbings by the end.

Whatever you compare it to, it's a compelling drama, unblinkingly facing the cruelty of society. The two directions of escape - the human who wants to live like the animals, free from social cruelty, and the animal who wants to live as a human, free from the imminent threat of death, present a strong contrast and a good pincer movement on the theme of what it means to be human.

Sadly it didn't have nearly the turnout as WSDIB, but I did get to tell the director and mocap actor I liked the film - unfortunately I don't know enough Korean to really ask the questions I wanted to (though I learned they used Unreal for rendering) but the director did very kindly run over to his friend to give me a little postcard with some art.

I wish the crowd had been more enthusiastic tbh, this was a good movie!

I also watched a bunch of XR stuff today, and another WIP panel for Canadian film Death Does Not Exist which is looking real cool, more on that in a mo... and I met Malaysian director Suresh Eriyat in a comic book shop and bought his art book direct from him which he fully signed for me, bless him...

seriously how adorable is this?

[atryoshka]

Gator Tillman is so Tragic (5x9 Spoilers)

I think what happened to Gator in the last episode makes him such a tragic character when you consider that he saw his father turning his back on him as something worse than getting his eyes gouged out.

We have Dot's belief that Gator could have been good person if he wasn't raised by his father, providing some insight and backstory for the first time in the episode "Linda". She knew him before his mother left and saw how growing up with Roy after all those years changed him for the worst. Telling him the truth about what his father really thinks of him, how Roy saw Gator as a disappointment from the moment he was born, only for Gator to see it as a lie, already says a lot about his warped perspective and how it influences his actions.

As the episodes passed, it became more and more clear that Gator's whole personality was centered around being someone his father could be proud of, regardless of what he himself actually cared about or believed. His entire life, unbeknownst to him, has been aimed towards meeting an impossible standard while constantly being enabled by the cult like community of the Tillman Ranch.

He doesn't see the things he does as wrong, even though he knows others do, because he really doesn't care about anyone's opinion other than his father's.

He's had multiple chances to change, but never took them. His misguided sense of loyalty to Roy had him making the same bad choices over and over with the only goal of getting his approval. You could see there were moments when he knew he was doing something wrong, and even seemed a little reflective, but then he just pushes past any unease because the ends justify the means in his eyes. He'll be a terrible person, do and say things that cross the line, but to him, it's worth it if he can be useful to his father.

So when he stumbles back home, blinded and useless, begging for some comfort from the man he devoted himself to, only to be ignored and told to shut up, he's truly in shock. Like I think that's when it really hits him how little his father actually cared about him as a person. He was able to dismiss the warning signs and evidence from others before this because he had such blind faith in him. It makes sense that what Dot said about why he was named Gator messed him up so badly. He he may have wondered why he was different than his brothers, may have even told himself that he was special because of it, but Dot's revelation struck a nerve because it was plausible. It made him doubt his father for a moment, which made him angry enough to lash out at Dot with words he knew would cut.

That moment revealed his worst fear, that he wouldn't be loved if he wasn't useful. That he was always a loser and a disappointment to his father. To have that fear validated when he was left alone and vulnerable in the field definitely broke something in him, and I believe that final dismissal will become Roy's ultimate downfall.

Gator has shown that he can't let things go, especially when his pride is hurt, and considering he's basically lost all hope of being someone in his father's eyes, he'll probably be a key witness to all of his father's crimes over the years. He won't be doing this as a way to redeem himself, because again, he doesn't actually care about getting forgiveness for anything he's said or done, but because he's hurt and vindictive enough to implicate himself as long as it means that Roy's life will be ruined forever too.

He's never taken the opportunity to be a good person, so I doubt he'll start now. He's also never responded well with being disrespected and once the shock wears off, he probably won't think twice about fucking over his father in any way he can out of spite. I wouldn't be surprised if he straight up lies and says he was forced to commit those crimes on his father's behalf out of fear of death, or claiming that his father was the one who blinded him while shamelessly playing the sympathy card.

Gator Tillman is both a terrible and tragic person, so whatever happens, the fallout is going to be so interesting to watch in the upcoming finale.

[slutforwings]

books i read in 2023 that i recommend :) mainly because i am trying to find new books to read in the 'book rec' tag and none of these people give summaries so I shall bravely do it instead for others!

wrong place wrong time - gillian mcallister (mystery)

Blurb: a woman sees her son killing someone in front of her, then wakes up the next morning only to realise it's the day before the murder. she keeps traveling back in time, unraveling the reason for the murder and trying to stop it along the way Review: i misread the back and thought it was gonna be a time loop but this was even better actually. i fucking devoured this book it was so compelling. i tend to devour mystery books like these regardless of their well-writtenness but this was genuinely really good and tied up everything neatly at the end.

autobiography of a corpse - sigizmund krzhizhanovsky (short stories)

Blurb: bunch of fantastical short stories like about the people living in your pupil, a society that deals in anger and malcontent, a guy trying to bite his elbow Review: this book made me realise i love short stories, but then it turned out i mainly love THIS GUY'S short stories. they were just that good. slavic writers are built different

the secret history - donna tartt (psychological fiction)

Blurb: cult group of pretentious college kids study greek and turn it into a personality trait. also theyre gonna conspire to kill one of their own and then try to hide it Review: all of these characters are cunts and i love them so much. do not believe the dark academia girlies peddling this book, these people are stupid and pretentious and morally corrupt and theyre SO MUCH FUN!! the internal monologues are fantastic, i want to study Dick's brain. its a very Long book and absolutely takes its time and yet it does not feel like any parts are really unnecessary. really good.

this is how you lose the time war - amal el-mohtar & max gladstone (sci-fi)

Blurb: two time travelers from opposing agencies each have a mission (the mission involves historic meddling through time travel but is honestly not as important) and keep encountering each other and leaving letters to taunt, falling in love throughout the story Review: listen i saw that tweet 'do not look up anything about this book and just read it' and i did and i had zero regrets. i bought the paperback after reading the ebook bc it was just that good. beautiful prose, fantastic worldbuilding that is sometimes only hinted at but everything made me go !!! can you tell i love time travel.

notes on an execution - danya kukafka (pyschological fiction)

Blurb: serial killer on death row recounts his life, as well as pov of the police officer that investigated the cases and got him in jail + pov's of the family of the victims Review: incredible story about family, morality and love. raises a lot of questions about criminals and 'evil' and does not answer them because that's the whole point. insane quotes too. also very vivid storytelling in the way that i could picture all the locations perfectly despite them not being described in detail. i think it was due to the intense Vibe

bunny - mona awad (uh. horror?)

Blurb: um. goth/'not like other girls' girl gets indoctrinated into joins a cult group of really girly girls that all call each other bunny and have kind of weird rituals meetings. Review: listen. i hate when people do this to me but. just read it. if you're a fan of magical realism and cult-y things, you're in for a treat. this book made me bike home in a daze. i love stream of consciousness where you as the reader are just as lost as the character! i love you bunny!

instructions for a heatwave - maggie o'farrel (fiction)

Blurb: a pensioned father leaves the house for his newspaper and then doesnt return. all the children are gathered by the mother to try and figure out what the fuck happened. Review: not so much a 'hey where'd he go' as it is a rumination on family and unconditional love. ofc theres some family secrets that get revealed but i found it more interesting to watch the family dynamic and the changes the secrets brought to it. bittersweet :)

[dukeofdelirium]

We need to discuss how it wasn't even a full week post-Lisa Marie's memorial before Priscilla was on Riley's ass about Lisa's will and fighting her in court. Like......her child just died and that's what she's focused on? Did she even mourn her? Or did she just go "Oh no! Anyway......."

Then again, going off Lisa's book, it seems like her death wouldn't have mattered to Priscilla regardless, considered how she treated her in life. I don't understand women who are so ride or die behind men. Especially when those guys are just the worst. She's a male-identified pick-me of the highest order.

Priscilla was draining Lisa’s inheritance and getting a mill a year for doing nothing behind Lisa Marie’s back. Priscilla’s lawyer also got a nice pension from doing that for her. From what I read, Priscilla and her legal rep dwindled the Estate and inheritance down to $15,000 which Lisa Marie had to work hard to try and restore… oh and Priscilla’s son was also taking financial cuts of money he had 0 right to. He also tried to blame Lisa Marie for her son’s suicide on social media. He was blowing 3k a month on his fentanyl addiction. He’s good for nothing, just like his mommy.

Priscilla never cared about Lisa’s well-being. She supported Lockwood despite Lockwood financially attacking Lisa and bleeding her dry. Not to mention the alleged fact he had child porn on him which Lisa Marie herself accused him of.

Priscilla put her daughter in a cult and had them raise her cuz she didn’t want to take care of her herself. She let her boyfriend rape her for years and never told the police or did anything to stop it. She supported men who took complete advantage of Lisa Marie in every way and drove away the one man that didn’t take anything from her. She worked to ruin their marriage because Michael provided Lisa an outlet and opportunity to escape her… and if Priscilla lost Lisa Marie and the control she had over her, then she lost the inheritance as well.

She stole millions from Lisa Marie and decimated the Estate of Elvis and nearly drove Graceland to bankruptcy more than once. Not just when her and Elvis divorced but also years later when she dwindled Lisa’s inheritance to a measly 15k. And she tried to sue her own granddaughter for even MORE money!

And in death, she attempts to gaslight Lisa’s daughter and undermine Lisa’s words exposing her for the piece of shit she is, because like a true narcissist, she has to have the last word.