#and i think its kind of tragic but very true to who they are that if they had no choice? rolan is going to die

[no-thanks-im-stuffed]

I have a Gravity Falls Theory I've been meaning to write down for a WHILE so here goes:

Stanford Pines is no genius and I'm gonna pick apart every single one of "Ford's" scientific inventions/accomplishments to prove it.

Grab a beverage, this is gonna be a long one

[Gravity Falls spoilers, a little bit of The Book of Bill]

Contents:

Ford's "Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness"

Codes and Secrets

Inventions

Ford's Tragic Backstory

McGucket

Why Would He Do This??

After Weirdmageddon

TLDR

1. Ford's "Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness"

I can support most of my claims with the help of Journal 3. Unless Ford had actual, scientific research papers, this is the only research we have from him and it's... not scientific in the slightest. Ford treats his "research notes" like a personal diary. I get that they had to design the Journal to be entertaining to kids, but from a scientific lense (which is what he wants to be perceived through), most of Ford's discoveries are very surface level and sometimes (especially later on) border on paranoid conspiracy theorist rambling.

His Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness is the reason he came to Gravity Falls in the first place. His goal is clear:

but, on the very next page, the ramblings start.

It gets worse once he finds the invisible ink.

"The pyramids were built to appease Bill!" sure, buddy.

(And yes, Bill confirms most of these ramblings about his history in The Book of Bill, but a) he too could be lying about this and b) I don't think he had a nice chat with Ford about who he tricked and tormented to build his portal. It wouldn't really fit into the timeline.)

The one bit of "science" I found him doing was his experimentation with the Bottomless Pit. He threw objects in the hole and only saw some stuff coming back while other stuff went missing. Ford hypothesizes it might be a "Möbius Pit" and even spends enough time experimenting on it that he found out "nothing ever seems to get lost on Friday the Thirteenth". Credit where credit is due.

Anyway, he's documenting all kinds of fantastical creatures in the Journal - adding his whimsical commentary and making random assumptions about stuff without any scientific basis. As he admits himself later on, this is getting him nowhere to actually start his Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness, let alone finish it. It's been SIX YEARS.

BUDDY WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

It took a spark of "divine intervention" to even start doing any meaningful research and it was just Bill telling him "hey there's a weirdness dimension btw".

Ford even admits that he didn't come up with it himself. The next pages are the first actually scientific looking ones so far, but more on that in the Inventions section.

He doesn't really advance on his Weirdness Theory for a while (see McGucket chapter for more), but later in the Journal, Ford has a little adventure with Dipper, talking about "The True Theory of Weirdness". He drops a "weird" jelly bean on the floor and watches it roll uphill towards Gravity Falls. He then states that Gravity Falls is a "Weirdness Magnet" and every oddity is eventually drawn to this place. Which is not a theory scientifically speaking, more like an unproven hypothesis. He didn't develop a model to, let's say, predict which oddity will find its way to Gravity Falls next or when it will happen.

"I explained that I felt in my bones that my arrival at this town, and perhaps Dipper's, too, was not an accident. That we were part of some greater fate the town had in store for us." Very scientific.

2. Codes and Secrets

The Journal has several hidden messages from a good handful of characters, some more encoded than others.

We all know about the Map leading to the secrets of Nathaniel Northwest's fraud from the show. Ford found it somewhere in the library.

It just needed to be folded. Layton ass puzzle. A 12 year old figured it out. Ford couldn't do it. Even Mabel is poking fun of him.

Now on to the ciphers.

One of them is a letter from Blendin, encrypted with the Vigenère cipher. To this, Stanford "aced cryptology" Pines says the following:

He was given the key and still couldn't make sense of it. Of course a cool puzzle for people reading the Journal, but not really helping Ford with upholding his image of being an undeniable genius.

Ford himself mainly uses the Atbash and Caesar ciphers, both being a) literally thousands of years old, b) incredibly simple and c) not his own invention.

Bill uses two symbol substition ciphers.

Now I don't know about you, but if a divine being chose me as the genius of the century to inspire me and said being left tiny hidden messages in my diary, I would stop at nothing to try and decipher what they're trying to tell me. For some reason, Ford did not do this. The first message Bill leaves says "I'VE BEEN INSIDE YOUR MIND SIXER, I KNOW YOUR SECRETS". He could have seen all of this coming wayyy earlier (or just had yet another red flag to ignore).

Anyway, I accidentally solved the code before finishing the Journal just to discover that Bill is literally handing him the solution on a silver platter towards the end.

Girl, what do you mean "???" ??

Now, I know Ford at this point is incredibly sleep deprived, paranoid and traumatized. But come on. If I can solve it 6 coffees in while dissociating, our genius can find the solution to Bill's alphabet using the A1Z26 cipher that he put in the journal himself. Plus, as mentioned, he could have deciphered his alphabet way before The Betrayal when his mind was still sound.

So again, not a good look for Ford in the whole genius department.

3. Inventions

Now let's take a look a the inventions which are most commonly associated with Stanford:

The Portal

The Bunker

The Magnet Gun

The Quantum Destabilizer

The Perpetual Motion Machine

The Portal is not one of Ford's inventions, that much is pretty clear. He "comes up with the idea" after Bill told him about some kind of "weirdness dimension".

Now maybe Ford built the portal. Or McGucket built it (which I find more likely due to his tendency to build large scale metal structures) and Ford helped him. We can't really say for sure.

What we CAN say for sure is that McGucket left the day before the big test, which means the portal was basically finished at that point. So if there was still any work left to be done, it would have been minimal and "even Stanley" could figure it out without help, so Ford probably could have, too.

The Bunker. Designed and built by McGucket (and possibly the lumberjacks before zapping them with the Memory Gun), including the death trap of a security system.

Notice the wording. McGucket insisted he could do it on HIS own. But then went out of his way to ask the lumberjacks and not Ford to help excavate the whole thing.

Why? Why not include Ford? Maybe because McGucket could tell Ford was overworked. Maybe because he thought even with Ford's help, they wouldn't have been able to do it in a timely manner and he didn't want to memory zap more people than neccessary, I'm not sure.

Anyway, the Bunker consists of the Bunker itself, a Security Room, an Observation Room and a Storage Room. On top of that, a Temperature Control Apparatus, a Cooling System and a Cryogenic Tube.

Again with the phrasing. "HIS skill for construction". "telephone HE built". "my assistant really topped HIMSELF with the security precautions". "once F starts inventing, HE can't stop".

A man like Ford wouldn't pass up on an opportunity to tell the world about his own accomplishments, yet they are strangely missing in these pages. However, the sketches documenting McGucket's work have become more technical than they've ever been. They even have small annotations that seem as if Ford asked McGucket what he was currently building.

"F has explained" implies McGucket was once again doing this on his own. Why else would he need to explain anything to Ford if they were doing this together? Plus, again, surely Ford would have mentioned something, anything, if he had participated in any way.

The things he DID mention is that he found a mole man skeleton and "Shifty", the shapeshifting creature. And he saved McGucket once Shifty broke out of their cage (Remember this for later, it'll come in handy). And he conducts tests on Shifty (remember this as well).

On to the Magnet Gun.

Again, passive form. If Ford had modified the gun himself, he would have told us. Chances are it was once again McGucket. Or it was just taken from Crash Site Omega as Ford says in the show that he and McGucket came down there often to loot the UFO for tech.

Lastly: The Quantum Destabilizer.

He actually admits he worked on it. However, he spent 30 years between dimensions. In these 30 years he couldn't find anyone (including himself) to get the Destabilizer working. The Other McGucket, however, was able to do it in less than a week.

Ford claims he was missing a suitable power source which The Other McGucket found, but there's no way of knowing if there was more to those "minor adjustments" to Ford's blaster than Ford would like to admit.

The only invention left is the Perpetual Motion Machine which I will save for the "Tragic Backstory" section.

Honorable mentions:

The Hyperdrive needed to power the portal:

While between dimensions, he was given a Dimensional Translator. Also not his own invention.

"F's mechanical know-how" vs. "my keen intuition." implying Ford merely found the Hyperdrive, but McGucket extracted it safely.

So the Hyperdrive was looted from Crash Site Omega. Plus, McGucket was the one to realize it was even needed in the first place.

The metal plate in his head? Not his invention. Not even his idea. The Oracle did that for him.

The Book of Bill has another example that Ford can't invent for shit: He found the blueprint of Abigale Blackwing's Anti-Bill-Suit in the library (once again, not even his own invention) and drafted a more modern blueprint. And either he completely failed to build it or it didn't work because we never hear from it again. Instead, he installs a retina scanner to keep Bill out of the lab. Which he (probably) ALSO didn't build himself.

In summary:

Portal: blueprint by Bill, (probably) built by McGucket.

Bunker: designed and built by McGucket (probably with the help of the lumberjacks).

Magnet Gun: likely looted from Crash Site Omega.

Quantum Destabilizer: a mess before McGucket fixed it overnight

Perpetual Motion Machine: see below.

Dimensional Translator: Not Ford's invention.

Metal Plate: thought of and installed by The Oracle.

Anti-Bill-Suit: invented by Abigale Blackwing.

4. Ford's Tragic Backstory

In fact, he mostly doesn't even say that he did any of this. He openly admits whenever he took something or McGucket built stuff, and barely calls any of the inventions his own. We just assumed that he can (on account of him being a genius), so we assumed he did.

would only make sense if he ACTUALLY couldn't get the Perpetual Motion Machine to work. We already know Ford is an unreliable narrator and I'm probably not the first one to point out that it doesn't make sense that Stan supposedly cost Ford his entire scholarship by breaking his Perpetual Motion Machine (accident or not).

Think about it from a college's point of view: You hear about a young man who apparently built a machine that violates the laws of thermodynamics. You don't just pass up on something like that just because it didn't work the ONE TIME you came to visit. That would be an exceedingly stupid thing to do. I think they would have given him that scholarship if he even got close to achieving such a feat.

Does he even have 12 PHDs as he keeps claiming? In what? For what reason? Wouldn't he get a scholarship for his dream school at some point given his seemingly endless potential? It all seems like overcompensation to me. Reminds me of Tommy Tallarico and his ever-increasing number of Guinness World Records.

Now let's briefly assume Ford IS a genius whose invention got sabotaged. Ford could have easily fixed it and asked for a second appointment with the judges. This did not happen. And even if he didn't get into his dream school, he could have used this perpetual motion machine for the good of humanity. He didn't do that. If the Machine had ever worked, it would have made international news. It didn't. He would have been world famous. He isn't.

What does that tell us?

However, there is a reason Ford is like this. It is connected to his tragic backstory, but I will include this in the final chapter for narrative reasons.

Also note how even in A Better World, he did not go do his dream college. The science center was built around the Shack that he went to later in life:

And even there, he only manages to make a name of himself with McGucket's cooperation. We already established he couldn't build the portal on his own. My guess that McGucket once again did the heavy lifting and didn't mind Ford taking the credit (as you will see in the McGucket chapter).

5. McGucket

At this point we've already gone over how McGucket built (probably) most of the Portal, the Bunker and everything in it, and got the Quantum Stabilizer to work. We also know that in his free time, he loves to tinker. He canonically built a laptop (with extra keys for Fords fingers), a cellphone, the Memory Gun, several killer robots, the Shack-O-Tron and started an entire ass cult along the way.

And that's just what I picked up on from skimming the Journal.

I think Ford was McGucket's assistant. He didn't get ANYTHING done before he called McGucket over for help. In the bunker, all he did was find a skeleton and conduct "experiments" on Shifty (by showing them pictures of creatures and documenting what happens). He led McGucket to the UFO crash site, McGucket was the one to actually extract the Hyperdrive. All of the stuff Ford does sounds more like an assistant's job to me.

We only see McGucket make stuff on screen. All this time he's welding together contraptions, piloting giant killer robots, having a blast.

We never see Ford tinkering ONCE. Still, he constantly praises McGucket for his "brilliant mind", "mechanical knowledge" and "skill in construction".

I'm also pretty sure McGucket knows that Ford isn't the genius he claims to be. Upon seeing Bill's blueprints, he immediately gets suspicious:

Why would he say this to a fellow genius?

And he's the one who recognizes something is wrong with the portal earlier than anyone else.

The day before the test, he meets Ford at the diner to warn him cause he knows something is deeply wrong - and offers him a thesis paper.

Now here is where things get interesting.

Ford gets angry. But instead of saying something like "How dare you insult my scientific integrity / intelligence", he thinks McGucket wants the Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness to himself, which obviously couldn't be further from the truth. But Ford is too insecure about his intelligence and too curious about the portal to care.

This makes me wonder if McGucket had done this before. They went to college together. What if McGucket wrote Ford's final assignment as well? What if he'd seen him have a meltdown over the introduction and whipped up a fantastic final thesis in an afternoon?

We know McGucket cares deeply for Ford, and we can tell his intentions at the diner were sincere. He doesn't really want or need any credit - meanwhile Ford is starved for it. This is probably also why he's fine being "Ford's assistant" even though he's the one putting in most of the work.

6. Why Would He Do This??

Before we talk about Ford's plans after Weirdmageddon, I have to mention that there's a good reason Ford is pretending to be a genius. This is pretty speculative territory, but I think it makes sense given what we know about the Pines family.

When you're a twin, at least in the Stan Bro's case, you're constantly being compared to one another. Once it has been established that Ford is the "smarter" of the two (true or not), their father latches onto that and soon Ford's intelligence becomes his entire identity. I think just like Stan was looked down upon and neglected for being the "stupid" twin, Ford was burdened with expectations for being the "smart" twin. "You're gonna go far, kid. You're gonna make us so much money, you're gonna get us out of this dump." An INSANE thing to burden a child with.

This goes well for a while - Ford gets straight As and is the pride of the family. His ego inflates. But then something strange happens which I'm sure many "gifted kids" can relate to - he hits a wall. At some point he can no longer brute force things with his intelligence and he has trouble keeping up with his family's expectations. His massive ego gets damaged beyond repair.

Soon, he starts questioning everything. "If I'm not the smart guy, who am I? What's left?" He's been living like this his entire life. It's way too late to turn back so he moves forward. And if intelligence can't get him there, at least he can use the smarts he does have to make sure nobody else ever finds out. It's not unlikely for him to develop this attitude and it's the same kind of mindset he brings to taking the Hyperdrive from Crash Site Omega:

In a way, this makes him a con artist like Stanley. Which, after everything that's happened between the two, must feel like such an insult to Ford that he'd rather live in denial than face reality. The reality being that he is about as intelligent as Stanley, too. This doesn't mean that Stan is dumb (he managed to get the portal to work with barely any help, after all) - just that Ford is not as intelligent as he (and everyone else) thought / expected of him. AND that Stanley isn't as dumb as everyone always told him he was.

I think while yes, Stan broke the Machine, Ford couldn't fix it. Or it was never even a Perpetual Motion Machine to begin with. Yes, Ford couldn't go to his "dream college", but was that really his dream? Or his father's? Remember when McGucket offered him the Weirdness Thesis on a silver platter, saying with this he can finally "get his life back", and Ford still refused it? Maybe he didn't want his old life back. Because his old life SUCKED without Stanley in it.

7. After Weirdmageddon

Now that we established what Ford's dad wanted him to be, let's explore what Ford actually likes doing.

Obviously journaling and sketching what he sees, but what else?

Ford loves exploring. He goes on hikes, climbs mountains, visits caves, goes ham on Crash Site Omega. In the Bunker he looks around and discovers a mole man skeleton and Shifty while McGucket did the inventing/building.

He's also great at action hero stuff. He saves McGucket from the Gremloblin, and later from Shifty, he's jumping around the UFO with a magnet gun as if it's the only thing he's ever done, and saving Dipper from the security system, just to name a few.

He even says this in the episode: "I need to train an apprentice to help me fight monsters, solve mysteries, and protect this town." This doesn't really sound like science stuff to me.

So yeah I think Ford lied about being a genius to compensate for his (self perceived) lack of other qualities, he lied about his 12 PHDs, his scientific accomplishments, maybe even some inventions. He sucks at decoding things despite claiming to have "aced cryptology". Instead, he spends most of his time exploring, fighting monsters, stealing shit and getting in all kinds of dangerous situations. Truth is, he is much more similar to Stan than he'd like anyone to find out.

He also doesn't even WANT to do science. He likes the idea of science, like in Sci Fi movies, but not the actual labor that comes with it. Ford has been travelling between dimensions for 30 years. He probably is the only human to ever have done that in his dimension. Surely he spent these 30 years on research? Well...

There's only a single line mentioned in the Journal about doing anything scientific and he didn't even dedicate the entire sentence to it.

He "compared notes with scholars". That's it.

But surely he has so many papers and theories he can finally publish to fulfil his initial goal to "join the ranks of Newton, Tesla, & Einstein in the pantheon of science"?

Nope. He goes treasure hunting with Stanley. Ford seems to have forgotten all about his research. And I think that's not just because he wants to make up for lost time, but also because this is what he truly wanted to do in the first place, before he was forced into the "genius" mold.

To go adventuring, to be creative, to spend time with the family that matters.

8. TLDR

Ford didn't manage to write his Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness.

His Journal is entertaining, but ultimately full of unscientific ramblings.

He didn't build the portal, bunker, magnet gun, quantum destabilizer, or any other invention I could find.

All of his accomplishments can be traced back to either Bill, the town library, or McGucket.

He didn't write his own codes, he couldn't decipher any of the codes or secrets he found, including the ones he was given a solution to.

The Journal makes it look like Ford is McGucket's assistant and not the other way round.

McGucket is amazing and needs to be protected at all costs.

The tragicness of Ford's backstory makes no sense if he actually WAS a genius.

He needed to keep up the genius act because that's what his family expected of him and now he's con-artist level good at it.

He spent 30 years between dimensions committing crimes and preparing for revenge instead of doing science.

he seems to not even LIKE doing science. he prefers exploring, drawing, and getting into dangerous situations.

Once back in his home dimension, instead of doing anything science related, he goes adventuring with his brother.

Disclaimer: I have nothing against Ford, if anything this adds to his character cause I haven't seen anyone even so much as question his status as a genius yet. I just needed to get this out of my system cause this has been brewing in my brain since JULY.

This took me 10 hours to write. Thank you so much for making it this far, this post was brought to you by Autism™

[elfcollector]

had 2 kill rolan </3

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

On David Tennant and Aging

So, I’ve seen a lot of posts in response to Tumblr users’ habit of affectionately calling their favorite middle aged dudes “old men”, David Tennant in particular, saying things like “clearly you’ve never met an actual old person”, “omg you talk about these guys like they’re 80”, “please be normal about people aging”, etc. And on one hand, all of these statements are objectively right and true! But as someone who’s always been really fascinated by and found a lot of beauty in getting older (which I’ve explored in some of my writing on A03 because nobody else is going to do it for me), I’d like to provide a bit more nuance on how I think this label applies to David in particular.

David, obviously, in literal terms, is not “old”, at least not to me- I don’t personally consider people old until they get past 60. 52 is middle aged, simple as that. And yet, when I see David stuck with the “old man” label, it still somehow feels weirdly right, for a number of reasons.

It annoys me so much when people say David “hasn’t aged a day since Doctor Who”, because, well…

He clearly has. A lot. He’s got forehead creases, deep crows’ feet and eyebags, and I think that post-Fourteen we’re gonna see him rocking the grey temples a LOT more. He also has the voice of an older man now, his upper range is still there but the default is much more deep and rich, with a gravelly, rumbling quality that just goes straight through you. I personally think Broadchurch was when David finally started to embrace looking his age- Alec Hardy just wouldn’t have been served by Ten’s fresh-faced boyishness.

Obviously, these are the kinds of changes you’d expect any 52-year-old man to have, but something about David just makes it all seem a bit more… intense? The expressiveness of his face combined with his almost gaunt frame makes his wrinkles very prominent, and when he works his voice to its emotional extremes, his lower register can sound positively ancient, to devastating effect.

David, I think, is someone with an old soul- I don’t think he could be as good as he is at playing ancient characters like Crowley and The Doctor if he weren’t. He has lived so many lives, given so much of himself to so many characters, often incredibly tragic ones, and I think it wears on him. David also has five kids. FIVE. Do you know how exhausting it is to be one of the hardest working actors alive and be a present, loving father to even ONE child? But David somehow does it anyway! Nowadays I see him and my heart breaks because he looks so tired, so weary and fragile. But he’s all the more beautiful for it to me because I know that that is because he is kind. He’s a deeply empathetic person who feels and lives to the absolute fullest, and that story is written so clearly on his face, along with every other story he has ever been a part of.

There’s other things about David that make the label endearingly fitting- his utter hopelessness when it comes to technology, for instance. And he’s just got that warm, wise, grandpa energy too sometimes- look at that above Fourteen picture and tell me I’m wrong!

I once showed my friend who’d only seen David in Doctor Who and Harry Potter a picture of David from Around The World in 80 Days. It was a particularly emotional scene, and his face had just the most beautiful expression of compassion and sadness, every wrinkle on full display. And she said, in a less than complimentary fashion, “he looks so old!” Which, of course, offended me quite a bit at first. But to me, referring to David as old almost feels like a badge of honor, something he’s earned by living fully and selflessly, working hard and being wise and compassionate beyond his years. I think David himself is secretly more than a little insecure about the fact that he’s getting older. There’s sadness behind every jovially self-depreciating remark he’s made about his age in the past year, particularly in comparing himself to Ncuti Gatwa. I know how much David struggles with his impostor syndrome and how people perceive him, and I can clearly see in his eyes the fear of being discarded, the anxiety he feels about if he’ll still be as loved as he was back in 2007 now that he’s closer in age to King Lear than he is to Romeo. So I hope David knows it’s a privilege to watch him grow older, to watch his soul and talents deepen with the crinkles around his eyes. If I, in my silly goofy tumblr girl-ness, call David Tennant an old man, it’s because it’s a label that suits him beautifully- even if it isn’t TECHNICALLY an accurate one yet.

[amourdivine]

୨ ♡ ୧ WHAT WOULD IT BE LIKE TO DATE THEM?   ઉ

Hello lovelies, welcome to another PAC! This is mostly an intuitive reading about what it'd be like to date the person on your mind. This can work for a crush, a friend or someone you know and are romantically interested in - it does not work for celebrities or strangers. If you liked this reading, please consider tipping me at @ amourdivinetarot@gmail.comvia paypal! xo ♡

☁️ ˚ QUICKLINKS . ༉ ‧

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HOW TO CHOOSE YOUR PILE.  take a few deep breaths and look at each picture separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later!

PILE 1

I feel nostalgic. You may be asking about an almost lover, someone you never really got off the ground with. Something failed. A failed talking stage, someone moved away, someone chose something or someone else. Maybe a childhood best friend who never looked at you in the same way, but the longing never really left, did it? Perhaps you’re asking about a same sex relationship and the other person is attracted to a different gender than yours.

You probably (still) love this person and your heart aches with what could’ve been, but the truth of it is that you always loved them more. If you were dating, you’d be left with the bittersweet feeling that there has to be more for the both of you… that maybe this isn’t enough, that maybe they don’t love you enough. Insecurities could arise, tears pricking at your eyes. You could feel like you’re too much and not enough for them, simultaneously.

The truth of this realization would be painful, but it would set you free. You’d finally understand why you were never meant to be with this person in the first place. Sometimes when we get what we want, we find out it isn’t what we need. If the two of you dated, you’d realize they’re not all that and that maybe you always deserved more than what they could offer. It’d be a painful realization, because none of your fantasies came true. After all, they were just fantasies about this person… and the unrequited love was best left that way… unrequited. 

It reminds me of a quote I saw a couple of weeks ago. When you find out you’re on the wrong train, you get off immediately. Don’t waste your precious time taking the train which will lead you to the wrong destination.

PILE 2

There is calm here. A lot of peace and understanding. I don’t know if either one of you would be ready for this love, somehow. It sounds like someone could still be stuck in a chaser-runner dynamic, maybe one of you feels like love has to be earned, that love has to hit hard and violently. Maybe chaos feels safer than, well, safety. I also heard “the calm before the storm”.

Either way, this relationship would teach you calmness, tranquility. It would teach you the gentleness of routine, of self-control and discipline. This is not the kind of whirlwind romance people speak of in movies, but this is the kind of steady, strong love that builds over time. Very strong Saturn energy. Reliable, firm. There is nothing unpredictable or unstable about it – even though some people fantasize about the kind of love that sweeps them off their feet, this relationship would ground you like a tree growing from its deep roots.

“Soulmates are not born, they’re made”, it may be something that resonates with this pile. You’d learn about each other and stick through thick and thin. It isn’t the kind of flashy, ultra romantic love that’s seen on Tiktok or Instagram. There is something beautiful and quiet about it, like a safe haven, a cozy cabin in the woods where you go when you need to clear your mind. It is wise and soulful, something like a dead language spoken between only two people. 

PILE 3

I always think of Romeo & Juliet when The Lovers comes to mind. Not in a tragic way. This is the kind of relationship where two people compliment each other. Their differences might make things rough, but that’s where they grow. You are too different and too similar at once, you challenge and learn in each other’s presence because you are almost like two sides of the same coin. That can be amazing, but it can be really difficult if neither are willing to compromise or listen.

This relationship would require maturity. It’d be fun, but daring. Dating them could be amazing only if you are on the same page about your goals, desires and feelings. A lot of communication is required, but the love is there. The intensity, the longing stares and the ache to be with one another is far too real to be forgotten. Even if it didn’t last for long, dating them would be something like once in a lifetime. This pile may resonate with the concept of a divine counterpart. For you, it’s something deeper than a soulmate, almost. 

There’s a ride and die energy to it as well. You’d do everything together, for better or worse. This is the confidant, the best friend and the sensual lover all in one. If not handled carefully or maturely, as I mentioned, it can backfire. Remember that the lovers also appear in The Devil card, so it’s important to approach your love in a pure, honest and genuine way in order to benefit from everything this relationship has to offer you. The choices you make in regards to this person matter.

PILE 4

Lonely, it’d be lonely. Dating them would leave you more than just unsatisfied. This person would abandon you halfway. They’d make promises they cannot keep, based on insincere and vapid feelings. They’re good at crafting illusions and would likely change their mind – shallow, impressed by meaningless things.

Dating them would be a lesson – unfortunately not in a happy way. You’d enter this relationship as a page and leave as a hermit, much more aware of your own surroundings, of your habits and inner self. However, it would be isolating and depressing to go through so much pain for so little joy. If you are not involved with this person, chances are you should be grateful that things didn’t work out. The benefits wouldn’t be worth it in the long run. You can go through this journey of self-discovery without all the pain this person would put you through.

I see puddles, I see crying. Sad playlists and the word ‘lonely’ keeps playing in my head. Although they may have seemed promising in the beginning, like a prince charming, like a fairytale come true, this relationship would be nothing but disappointment, deceit and heartbreak. They can’t even compare to the fullness of your heart and the love you are willing to give. This person only knows selfishness and you are best away from them.

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DISCLAIMER. tarot is a divination tool, it’s not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i don’t take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings. be mindful ♡

[herinsectreflection]

I'm So Evil, And Skanky, And I Think I'm Kinda Gay (Bad Girls)

In 1872, a full twenty-five years before the release of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Irish author Sheridan Le Fanu published Carmilla. This story depicts the relationship between the young and innocent protagonist, Laura, and the confident and mysterious title character, Carmilla. A friendship blossoms between Carmilla and Laura and the two become close, but over time Laura becomes suspicious of Carmilla’s strange behaviour. She flees from her, and it is revealed that Carmilla is a vampire who has been preying on Laura – feeding on her nightly and attempting to turn her into a creature of darkness. Carmilla is confronted, killed, has her head removed and body burned, and the ashes of both are thrown into the river. 

A simple story and much shorter than a true novel, Carmilla’s historical impact outweighs its length. Not only is it one of the earliest and most notable pieces of vampire fiction, and a great influence on Dracula itself, it is also the origin point of one of the most controversial tropes in this genre of fiction: the Lesbian Vampire.

The vampire myth as constructed by Dracula and its compatriots positions vampires as a corrupting sexual influence upon women. Older men sneak into the bedrooms of virginal young women, penetrate them, and therefore transform them into something tragic and ungodly. They personify a threat to patriarchy; a threat perceived in the form of female sexuality. The idea is that an unmarried woman having symbolic sex will irrevocably twist them into some kind of monster.

The Lesbian Vampire exists as an extension of this idea, focusing on one of the most diabolical threats to patriarchal ideology – a woman who sexually desires another woman. Carmilla’s victims are exclusively female, and her pursuit of Laura is very visibly romantic in nature. She kisses Laura, confesses love for her, the two take walks in the moonlight and embrace each other. This is what leads to Carmilla feeding upon Laura and threatening her death. Symbolically, there is no separation between the two. The danger Laura is in is caused by same-sex desire. Carmilla’s villainy is her lesbianism. The trope does not have to include vampires in a strict sense, but more generally the link of sapphic seduction leading to corruption.

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[seat-safety-switch]

"The '70s are coming back," explained the very patient sales lady at the Hudson Bay furniture department the other day. I was inquiring about a weird-looking brown sofa that some unscrupulous garbage-picker had clearly dumped in the middle of their showroom. Imagine my surprise when, rather than being grateful to see me haul it away and put it into my living room (I need new things to stack carburetors on,) she asked me for eight thousand dollars instead.

This is exactly why I don't shop at the downtown Bay very often. Too bougie, with all those lawyers, attorneys, barristers, and legal practitioners coming in there on their lunch breaks and buying seven sets of brand new underwear for the coming week. On the way home, though, I had plenty of time in the mandatory traffic jam (behind two Maybachs and an Aston) to think about what she had said. Could it possibly be true that my smoking, heaving, late-70s piece of shit Plymouth Volare, the very same vehicle that was mostly under my feet at this exact moment, be worth more than I paid for it?

To answer this question, I found an appraiser in the phone book. When I was a kid, I thought an "appraiser" was like the weird little dude who follows behind the bully in teen comedies, backing up everything they say. In actual fact, that is called a "hype man," and I recommend you not hire one of those to appraise your car. Appraiser Dave (or David, if you're friends) told me that he could do an appraisal of my car in his driveway in just minutes. At last, I would know what kind of asset base I had been flinging into corners and onto golf courses at reckless land speeds this whole time.

"Is this some kind of joke?" he spat, and demanded the payment immediately. Luckily for me, at that exact moment, a squirrel shook out of its home in the air cleaner and ran up his shirt sleeve. I think it was Ted, but it might have been his common-law wife, Tedina.

His or her tragic sacrifice was not made in vain, as in the ensuing distraction I was able to escape the neighbourhood without Appraiser Dave seeing my license plate. It helps that I couldn't shut the engine off, because it diesels really bad when you do that, and it eats batteries whenever it sits for more than ten minutes. Cheaper to just let it run 24/7 and top up the gas every morning. I need to count every penny: I'm saving up for a couch.

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I haven't played the game but I've somehow become obsessed with this Vampire Spawn...

Warnings: swearing, possible spoilers for the game, nsfw included

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ESFP

Slytherin

Chaotic Neutral/Evil

Leo Sun, Scorpio Moon, Sagittarius Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿    

・Before you got together, in that long space of time of 'will they, won't they,' - you had a lot of banter. Oh, and a fuck tonne of flirting.

・Which made a lot of people think you were together. And it actually made it really easy for the group to use you two as a fake couple for things

・There was so much tension between you and Astarion; the looks he would give you when you were, but more importantly, when you weren't, looking

・It took a long time for physical touch to be allowed. He didn't realised how touch-starved he truly was.

・It started off with hugs, standing closer together, brushing your hands against the other's.

・In front of others was easier than on your own. The bravado covered the insecurities.

・When it was just the two of you. The silence - it felt like the two of you were so exposed.

・So it took a lot of trust; from both of you, to develop a relationship built on strong foundations. Trust. Reliability. Honesty. Which wasn't too easy with Astarion.

・But you gave him as much of yourself as you could, before telling him enough was enough. He's either in or he's out.

・And he couldn't deny you.

・Rough kisses that turn soft, the more he tastes you

・But more often than not, Astarion's soft kisses turn into the most heated, rough, passionate embraces that leave you light headed.

・Your scent is the most invigorating thing he has ever smelled. It's a comfort to him.

・Astarion has a silent dream to have a family, to hold a baby in his arms, for its little fingers to wrap around one of his own.

・It's a daydream that took him two years to tell you about, and he did so while thoroughly intoxicated

・Calls you an array of nicknames: "sugar puss," "kitten whiskers," "pup," "angel," "little devil," "honey lips." etc.,

・Very protective of you.

・At first he tried not to show it, or to cover it with snide comments and witty remarks.

・But then he became more obvious with it, especially if you were in actual danger.

・He had never felt true panic until he saw you nearly die. He couldn't live if you weren't alive too.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Opposites Attract

Tough on the Outside, Soft on the Inside (Astarion) x The Top (You)

Tragic Past (Astarion) x Ray of Light (You)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆  

You Show Him Kindness, Another Way of Living, x The Other Choosing Kindness As Well, As Redemption.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

The Sails of Chiron by the Scorpions

Swan Upon Leda by Hozier

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, I bloody mean it. 

・With Astarion's past, and what he had to do - sex is difficult. He may talk a big talk, but knowing him and what he's told you; you just know it's hard.

・With the first few times you had sex, Astarion was very rough; dominant, the one who was calling the shots

・It was almost like a performance. He talked the big talk and now he had to live up to it.

・But really, you just wanted him to let his walls down, and fully connect with you.

・Astarion is well-endowed, around 9 inches even when flaccid

・When he's stressed about something (which only you can pick up on), you take it slow, massaging body parts, letting the space become safe ... peaceful

・A lot of blood play (if you're into it) - biting while going down on you, letting the blood well in his mouth, smearing it around your sex with his nose.

[foursaints]

helllo! u sometimes talk about ur mutuals circle and i was just wondering would u like to namedrop them? cos i think i already follow some of them but i feel like they probably all have very correct opinions and good taste and would like to follow them

oh i would love nothing more than to namedrop. in fact i will make you an index of what i admire about them (readmore for length)

@fernhelm <- leading scholar on the black sisters, arthuriana, and the overlap between marauders & ancient greek classicism. we are neighbors and childhood friends irl but that's unrelated

@jewishregulus <- THE regulus black understander & originator of the carrow twins. half of everything i say is paraphrased from the essay length saintsivy dms

@carniferous <- THE james potter understander & creator of nuanced tenderness and melancholy & one of my favorite fic authors before we became friends.... read their theatre-based fic NOWW

@sixlane <- i passed the Premiere Bartylily Understander hat to lane long ago.... we all definitely already know lane of "get him back (read on ao3)" fame but it bears repeating. one of the few fic authors who i stalk for updates. but i also stalk for anon responses because they are always uniquely thought-out and hilarious

@itsjaywalkers <- LAURIEE is one of the best people on here & i scroll their blog like the morning news. the vibe on there is always so fresh and fun and kind and playful (and occasionally searingly tragic or erotic). THE james potter enjoyer on this website. this is the other fic author who i stalk for updates.....

@quillkiller <- jen was my first mutual on here 🥺 (hi jen). our most beautiful resource for Bellatrix Black enjoyment and nuanced discussion of feminist theory. i consider them half of the powerduo of Rarepair Creation on this site (hi kara) that has given us bangers like effiebarty and regtunia and the most searing wlw fic

@static-radio-ao3 <- im embarrassed to talk to mil because their jegulus fic is just genuinely that good. its crazy how every single one reads like a fully fleshed-out romcom novel i would read in one sitting at barnes & noble. another barty understander i daresay

@sugarsnappeases <- THE OTHER HALF OF THE RAREPAIR BUREAU. kara's microfics hit me like 9/11 every single time (that searing bella sirius-death character study? the BARTYLILY DRESS FIC?) and they are another lesbionic understander of women. when people say they want more marauders girls content they should just go to kara lmfaooo

@rottin6 <- can't talk about layla without offering my hand in marriage sorry. princess of the bartylilysphere i rather think... hottest most erotic microfics i've ever read in my life, thank god for the people who understand barty's Trashboy Dick on a cerebral level

@veryinnovative <- we all definitely already know ino but that's okay. probably divinely gifted to come up with the most unexpected & niche AUs that still manage to make perfect sense and hit every single time.

@moon-seas <- KAYY. my favorite artist on here hands-down. a true dirtbag barty understander & they produce the most stunning digital collage-work. a privilege to see

@sommerregenjuniluft <- now where would i be without lune's barty understanding... yes their jegulus microfic porn is masterful but WHAT ABOUT their ability to put barty in the strangest situations ever (he's an electrician?? a circus clown, now???) and have it integrate perfectly with his character. that's good writing babe!!!!

also you should follow @dracure @royalthorned @morsmortish and @katakosmos for more good rosekiller content. we don't talk but I admire from afar ......

[asklesbianonceler]

Ymir quest ending thoughts and sorcerer corruption kind of as a whole?

I'm going to get really into wording for a second but that kind of thing and nuance is very important in Elden Ring

And of course, just my interpretation but 🤷🏻‍♀️

It seems like the main question about Ymir's quest is "why is he upset at the end?"

And before I get into it I'm gonna site other sorcerers and their outcomes:

Ranni: best ending arguably. She is never corrupted and returns the world to the untainted fate of the stars and greater will. She has love in her heart but does not let it guide what needs to be done. She is detached enough and not over ambitious but she does love, she tells us to tell iji and blaidd she loves them

Sellen, Lusat,Azur, Graven Masses: overly ambitious, devoid of emotional connection and only interested in pure knowledge. They gazed too far into the primeval current/greater will and in a lovecraftian way are driven mad and transformed and essentially die. Another thing with her is she wants to study the Elden ring (the cycle) not the greater will at large

Rogier: would not acknowledge grief, anger, and regret. Died for the pursuit of knowledge and trying to understand the golden order (which is broken)

And now Ymir: Ymir had too much love in his heart and was guided by it and this is made clear by items, Jolán, and his own actions towards Yuri. He mentions the natural pursuit of truth and power as well as abandoning the moon. He says that Metyr is corrupt and that we need a new, true mother, never specifically saying he's thinking about it being him, but we can assume. He is capable of being ambitious to a bad extent. Then Yuri dies.

We overhear him, so this is his true thoughts in this moment, that he "failed" and that he "truly wanted to be HIS mother" not THE TRUE MOTHER. Just Yuri's. He loved his child so much. He was satisfied. Yuri was enough. And him saying he failed is really implying he is done. He isn't trying anymore. He has loved and lost and it was too painful*. There is not a single hint of madness here, just grief. Then we kill Metyr and she phases out- putting her corruption into Ymir. So why's he pissed? Metyr is corrupt and he says it himself he failed already. He wanted something and is accepting its loss appropriately prior to this. When he's "possessed" he says he will be the true mother. But when we kill him we get that classic last bit of a characters humanity and true feelings coming through when he is no longer "possessed" where again he just says, Yuri, I wanted to be "YOUR" mother. Singular. Done.

He didn't want this anymore. We fuckin did this to him. Yuri made him realize he could be content exclusively with just the love between a mother and child. His genuine words are exclusively about Yuri... He originally went into it with desire to replace Metyr and then said "no. This love is enough and the loss was too painful"

He is so sympathetic and tragic and wonderful and I feel so bad for him.

Ah, how we had to see the tragedy to see the beauty in it

*Edit: after watching my wife do the whole quest and listening to all dialogue again, his gravestone dialogue to Yuri also includes, still specifically, that he will try to give Yuri life again, so not giving up on him specifically but not speaking of being THE mother just A mother, again singular. He is only thinking of Yuri. Like he never privately talks about replacing Metyr despite that definitely being what he went into this wanting.

Additional feeling add ons: I think we can also take, from his private conversation about Yuri's nightmare before this, that it was always Metyrs power, so a tainted one, that let him birth Yuri because it sounds a lot like Yuris nightmare is about Metyr. so Yuri is apparently aware of Metyr despite likely not having seen her.

Him willing to try again to give Yuri life does further my belief that the gravestone is readable pre quest because Yuri may have been a real child he lost who he continues to project on to, but we'll never really know for sure but that is completely irrelevant.

Either way it is the loss and love of a child continuing a cycle we see a lot in Elden Ring and whether Yuri was always the fingercreeper or a child he lost some time prior, really doesn't matter.

If there's one thing Carians will always do it's get wrapped up in what their heart wants and be guided by it. Three-way handshake between Renalla, Relanna, and Ymir- succumbing too much to love.

Literally the most heartbreaking thing still that his last words are just about Yuri JUST LIKE RENALLAS ARE ABOUT RANNI??? FUCK THEY LOVE THEIR CHILDREN SO MUCH

[transmascutena]

the scenes where characters go to the dueling arena without an actual duel are so interesting with the context of it actually being the planetarium in akio's tower.

in episode 9 there's the illusion of the castle falling down and anthy in the coffin when saionji tries to bring her to the arena. so many questions of who did that and why. definitely to mess with saionji in some way obviously, anthy's coffin is the same that he and touga found utena in, and he's been thinking about that moment throughout the episode. touga is the one who wrote him the fake letter from end of the world, but he couldn't have known all that would happen (he certainly couldn't have caused it to) unless he was working with akio. but when he calls him at the end of the episode, it's definitely implied that he didn't. so i think it's more likely that its was anthy who did it, to keep pushing things along. she and touga do kind of work together a lot in this arc to manipulate people (usually nanami, though that isn't really relevant here). touga needed to set up his fake rescue of utena and it makes sense that anthy would help him out by messing with the projector (the fact that utena gets another moment to feel like a hero is a bonus too). which means akio probably did also know, and just pretended he didn't in the phone call with touga later. i also don't think touga knows about the projector or the illusions, i think he just assumed anthy would. idk, pretend to lie helpless on the ground, not all the elaborate bullshit she pulled instead. he does only come up there after the illusion is gone, after all.

the scene in episode 36 is cool because it takes a moment for the floating castle to actually appear, which implies that utena and touga's trip up there was unexpected somehow? the projection isn't on. or not fully on at least, since it still is projecting the arena itself. i wonder what it means (i have thoughts but nothing coherent). it's also kind of funny that touga comes to get utena in the tower and then they walk all the way to the arena which is. also the tower. and they go up there to stargaze! which is ironic. and symbolic. they think they're looking at real stars, but it's still the projected ones. it shows how much touga has bought into akio's worldview, even if he is trying to do what he thinks is right here. and honestly, it is kind of a sweet moment, just not for the reasons he thinks. they're two lonely kids who have been (and are being) hurt by the same man in a very similar way, even if neither of them realize how true that really is. touga is framing his request for them to sit together in a very romantic way, which it obviously isn't, but maybe they can still offer each other some comfort. who knows. it's kind of tragic that it's all happening in akio's tower though. they are not free. not even slightly.

i think the parallel of both of these moments being touga using the arena to stage his "rescueing" of utena, the first one being entirely manipulative, and the second being something of a genuine (if completely misguided) attempt, is very cool.

[madtomedgar]

something i think gets dropped a lot in fandom discussions is the category of stories that both operate within a particular moral framework and are uncomfortable with it. there’s probably a word for this and i’m not articulating this super well but.

i think modern western storytelling, particularly the kind of stories that attract fandom type interactions, either have a morality system that the narrative wholeheartedly agrees with and has set up as “good,” which is being challenged by an outside “evil” (think lotr) or the system is framed as immoral, and our heroes see through that and overthrow the system to establish a reign of “good,” (start wars, original flavor).

And there are other kinds of storytelling around systems of morality. in western lit/media, they usually belong to more serious, high-brow works that don’t work well with fandom. but the kind of framework i’m talking about is one that also shows up in antigone. in that, there is a set way that Creon has to act, as a good ruler. If he doesn’t act this way, he isn’t a good ruler. And there’s a set way that Antigone has to act to be a good sister. And those two goals are at deep odds, so you wind up with Creon doing the right thing but also doing something so deeply wrong, and Antigone doing the wrong thing to do what’s right. And there’s a read here that’s like. Creon was sticking too closely to the letter of the law and therefore couldn’t see what was really right, like Antigone did, and so is a tragic villain. But you can also read them as both being right, and being unable to resolve that.

And in discussions of mdzs/cql, I feel like I see a lot of either people deciding that society and its moral requirements are bad, and the protagonist who rebels against them is good, OR people upholding the societal moral requirements against the protagonist in a way even the story doesn’t. Because what Wei Wuxian does in leaving the Jiang sect and breaking his promise is wrong for the society of the story. But it’s also true that he’s doing the right thing by protecting the Wens, and the problems with his brother are that they can’t resolve the issue of them both being right in incompatible ways.

And like. Taking revenge for your family by killing the entire family of the people who wronged you is socially acceptable, but I don’t think you can say that the story is happy about it. Being a good and obedient child is a social moral requirement, and the story isn’t framing telling your parents who suck to go fuck themselves, or having them fucked to death, as good. Instead it’s wrestling with the question of what happens when your parents abuse that loyalty and affection, or don’t accept it? What the fuck are you supposed to do when you have to both can’t inter a traitor in the city but you have to bury your family honorably? And there isn’t a neat answer!

Like... Wei Wuxian does owe the Jiangs, and also the handling of that debt is disastrous and unfair to everyone. Jin Guangyao is being a very good son, and therefore a very bad man, until he becomes a terrible son and then a good man (as in once he’s out from under his father, he chooses to do things that enhance the common good for no benefit to himself, and puts a stop to the demonic cultivation experiments that used live people, and generally seems to perform the role of a wise and good leader. I’m not saying what he did to his father or the sex workers was good because it wasn’t, though it is fun narratively). Wen Ning is a traitor to the man who took him in and raised him and to his sect, and he’s also a member of that sect with a potential moral obligation to take revenge, and he did the right thing by helping the Jiangs out. But it was also very much the wrong thing.

And so much of this push and pull and discomfort with, but not rejection of, this moral system is bound up in conflicting moral obligations, to parents, to individuals, to sects, to leaders, and what happens when they conflict. But it’s important, I think, that it’s not actually a rejection of these obligations and their weight. Yeah.

[poppystheories]

Allen's in serious trouble. He was already in bad shape from everything that's happened so far, considering the hits to the head he's taken and bite Krory took out of him. But just as he can't find the strength to continue fighting...

My first thought was: Allen's Innocence has activated on its own again! But that’s wrong; it doesn't seem to be activated. Something just made Allen's hand move to catch the axe.

A certain someone has awoken!

This isn't an illusion, or a hallucination. This is not in Allen's head. This actually happens, as Eliade sees it. Akuma!Mana is right here.

First there's the Spiral, and then the entity has the D from the logo too, though we don't have a clue as to why. Mana D. Campbell? Something to do with what the D stands for?

You'll also note that the skulls is incomplete, and its right side references the spiral again. Souls can be called back from the Spiral by their bonds with the living, so long as they have an anchor: the upside down star that represents matter prevailing over spirit, which Allen has carved in his face.

The curse evolves right in front of our eyes, then retreats back inside him. Akuma!Mana even talks to him, saying "I'm back". Back from being temporarily destroyed by Road, or is this the first time the consciousness with the curse has awoken at all?

We've seen these black eyes on the Earl and Nea. Allen's star is also now filled in. Was its shape before indicative of some kind of incompleteness? Meant to represent that before, it was empty, but now it is properly housing something?

When Akuma evolve from Level 1 to 2, they become a lot more sentient, with their own thoughts and personalities. Allen's eye is doing something similar; Allen himself even points that out, with the Dark Matter evolving to the next stage within him. Still, the whole-ass consciousness that came with that evolution does not get acknowledged enough.

Allen's thoughts are presented to us like this.

This:

is someone else entirely. There's an entity inside the eye now, with its own separate thoughts.

Allen recognizes that Mana is the one speaking to him, somehow using the Spiral of Life. We see them them standing together within it, at least.

Allen tells Mana the conclusion he's come to: he has finally found a place to belong, a path to walk. The tragic fate of an exorcist is his choice. He appreciates Mana's gift to him (Mana's desire to protect him), but he would've chosen the path regardless, even though it's dangerous.

In this moment, there's no doubt that this "Mana", whatever part of the original he is, knows Allen is his own person, the child with Innocence, not Nea or a dog.

He is also dressed like "Mana Walker", nothing like the youthful Mana D. Campbell's more casual clothes or the beige suits the Earl wears.

All of this makes me think that Akuma!Mana is the "soul" of all the memories from in-between meeting Red and Mana "dying" that the Earl wanted to discard, alongside any inconvenient sentiments like fatherhood that may hold him back.

If that turns out to be true, that might mean this remnant of Mana doesn't even know who Nea is.

Don't get up on the "fall" wording here, the translations vary. I think "sink" might have been a better choice.

Akuma!Mana encourages Allen, and even gives him what could be some advice or a some kind of hint. Did Mana also see the world of black and white, when he was alive? Is that one of the Earl's abilities? The ability to see the souls is leading Allen to some kind of answer; he definitely grasps at least some of that truth when he uses the knowledge to take his body back from Nea much later.

This whole scene is one of the most interesting in DGM, but I really don't think its discussed enough. Again, this is not some symbolic or metaphorical meeting of Allen connecting with his own grief, this very much happens. Eliade witnessed the skull and everything.

Mana is somehow using the curse as an anchor and connecting to Allen from or through the Spiral or something like that. He is conscious and aware and "back". Maybe Road's candle really did do something that allowed him to gain so much consciousness, and even move Allen's body.

Regardless, this will not be the last time this entity within the curse interferes. He doesn't talk much, but he is very much present going forward, and saves Allen on several occasions.

The names of these chapters are "return" and "merge", by the way.

So yeah. Akuma!Mana is in Allen's eye and he's along for the ride. Neat.

[starzzmissthesun]

Hey guys, I feel the need to go into more depth about a post I made a while ago because I feel like some of y'all didn't get what I meant, and I see so many takes just like what I'm about to talk of. Ok, so I've been seeing lots of posts recently about bartylus being one of three things; fwb who don't actually have feelings for each other, being ex's, or 'the third thing'. I mean if you believe these things, no hate or anything to you, to each their own, but just listen to what my perspective is of this. I'm mainly making this post because most of the things I see in the bartylus tag are from the POV of those three things, it's annoying to see when there are people who actually ship them.

So for one, I really don't think they could have that romance and the physical aspect without having any feelings for eachother. I mean, think about it. They are truly best friends to no end, they love and see eachother different than everyone else. This is true in SO MANY fics and takes on them, no matter who they're paired with. They already act like an old married couple, so they would eventually catch feelings (if not already). I understand lots of people say that they could, just because its more of a trauma bond and being with someone you trust. I agree that they have been through a lot together and trust each other more than anyone, but I also think that it would turn into something more. Being so close would definitely make it hard to separate and see the line between their physical relation and how they feel for each other.

And my next point, which was what my og post was about, they couldnt be exes, especially if they were in love. The first thing is that they DO love eachother, you wouldn't date your BEST FRIEND if you weren't. I mean really, those two loved their other friends, they knew what it was like to love a friend platonically. If you are so used to being punished and criticized, you would have to be very aware of how you feel about people/recognizing the differences(this goes for both of them). Especially when you think about the social repercussions of them being gay in families like that, but also the way their families are so opposite that they would probably get in trouble for even being friends. They loved eachother a lot and would not just, get over each other. When you have something so special like that and remain best friends, its hard to fall out of love, especially if its not that long from them stopping that they get with other people. What even would change about them other than who they kiss? I feel like every time they were with their respective partners they would catch each others eyes every once in a while and think this is wrong. The kind of love they would have for each other (even if you believe this platonically) would be made of devotion and loyalty and reverence. They couldn't just get over each other, where would all of those feelings go? They just disapear? They turn platonic? No, they would stay, something so intense wouldnt just go away. What could they want that they couldn't find in each other? I mean back to the whole it being nothing more than the m being secret and because they trusted each other, i mean doesn't that just speak to the love they have for each other, which brings me to the point of them unable to be The Third ThingTM.

The third thing is the trope people use for tragic characters that were never just friends, but never quite romanitc. But the thing is, they both could never be casual about eachother, they hold each other so close and so sweetly, especially as a first (last and only) love, they would never let go. @dolcevitaaa26 made a post about this, and also said a big part of the trope is that the reason it's not quite romantic is because it's not enough, there's something missing. But, like i said, what could be missing/not enough in a relationship that is built upon true understanding and acceptance? They couldn't be vague, not with that person SO IMORTANT that theyd keep in their lives forever. And they would, if they didn't have each other theyd never stop thinking about each other. Even if they were Just Friends, they are each other's Person in every aspect. They understand each other in a way no one else could. How could you lose that person? How could you not hold them so close to your chest that you merge, that you are one? They are inseparable, it is indistinguishable where one begins and the other ends. They are definitely unique and different from what anyone else has, but in a way that would be perfect for eachother, it would be romantic if anything.

I mean all of these things given, especially the fact of being something so perfect for eachother, would be put before anyone else. If youre going to have them have exes within your ship, because at th end of the day ship what you want to, don't have it be with eachother. I just say that because the implications of that feel the same way of people making james date lily after reg dies, reg and barty wouldn't get over eachother. It's fine if you see them as totally platonic, but make them platonic, because they are not casual people, they couldn't be in between for each other. And do you reall want your ship to have one of them still loving another? Just some food for thouhgt. I could say more, but this is already too nonsensical and long.

[a-swamp-creature]

goddamn like….

there was an extremely sus “bridgerton ball” held downtown this last weekend that turned out to be a dashcon-level scam. probably couldve guessed that from the ads/website being littered w spelling errors, but anyway…listing a few of the things i know of:

-it was supposed to happen last month but the organizers (Uncle & Me Events) sold 1500 tickets for a venue w a max capacity of 450. Venue cancelled, of course. Organizers sent out one (1) email two days before the thing was supposed to happen. A lot of ppl didn’t even see the email so people were showing up to an empty venue in downtown Detroit wearing regency-era ballgowns. Security apparently told some of them that the event was a scam but idk how true that is. Anyway it was rescheduled at a new venue for a month later.

-valet parking was promised, not delivered. parking downtown is a pain in the ass in general but these people were also wearing ballgowns lmao

-nobody checking tickets at the door. there was a tiered pricing scale for tickets starting at $100 and going up to $1000 (a fool and his fukkin money i s2g) so all these ppl from the suburbs who paid hundreds/THOUSANDS of dollars to be treated like VIPs were pissed

-because nobody was checking tickets, people were just kind of wandering in off the street lmaaaaoooo so ppl were just kind of milling around in normal clothes eating the buffet, which leads me to…

-the food was bad: pasta w marinara, canned green beans, meatballs, and undercooked/raw chicken wings. people were expecting a sit down meal apparently? but I think that might just be the expectations of ppl more accustomed to tea parties than actual large scale events - ain’t no way they were ever going to do full-service dinner for 1500 people. it was always going to be a buffet.

-NO ALCOHOL lmaaaoooo the event info said open bar, there wasn’t even a cash bar. no shit, they had water and “mocktails”. check out the menu:

ITS ALL LEMONADE LMAAAOOOO but wait!!! ppl who bought VIP tickets also got hawaiian punch !!!

-see the tablecloth in that pic? the decorations were bad. like dollar store bad.

-they were supposed to have a bunch of different activities: dance lessons, costume contests, carriage rides. neither of the first two happened. the carriage rides did, but you had to pay extra and they only did them for three hours. again, 1500 people.

-that’s not to say there was no entertainment. they had a dj playing pretty standard birthday party dj fare: the hustle, cha cha slide. he also played hiphop which really upset a lot of the ppl larping as wealthy colonizers for SOME reason 🤔 disclaimer: i assume they were expecting classical music but a looooot of people specifically complained about the hiphop

- oh there was also a single exotic dancer stationed in the middle of an empty room. i am not joking. im not in the business of posting photos of strangers but the photos are out there and they’re tragic. this poor woman just took a gig and ended up with a bunch of middle class pearl clutchers complaining abt her on fb. that being said, my understanding is bridgerton is smut for ppl who want to pretend they’re above watching porn so idg why a dancer is such a big fucking deal, just sit down and watch ffs. oh wait-

-there was nowhere to sit lmao

-and no refunds

seems pretty clear that after overselling and losing the first venue, the organizers lost all their vendor contracts and had to scramble to have anything at all. could’ve just cancelled. btw the no refunds thing included if it was cancelled - they’ll just credit you for the next event lol

now listen. i do feel bad. I don’t think anyone deserved this really. I DO find it very funny that a bunch of of ppl who can afford $1000 tickets to dress up in expensive costumes and pretend to be aristocrats got scammed big time by Detroit.

[toriangeli]

I get the impression that the writers didn’t expect people to be that invested in Armand which is odd bc he’s a popular book character but. It almost seems to me like they thought everyone would be invested in Lestat and Louis only and they can do whatever with Armand. I still think he was well-written for the most part don’t get me wrong. However.

I think his motivations are muddled in this version of the story and it’s weird that he had no strong relationships to anyone all season. The Louis thing didn’t matter to either of them that much bc he was willing to let him die (weird), nothing with Daniel yet, didn’t seem very upset with the coven members dying and didn’t even seem to hate Claudia all that much?

I feel like they didn't think we'd love him if he was as much of a maniac as he was in the books? Crazy time to start worrying about what their audience thinks. ffs, Rolin talked about how bad they felt for Armand upon rereading the second half of book 1 and then didn't even quote the line that made them feel so bad for him in the first place (the thing about how he's done everything for Louis and Louis doesn't love him and seems totally dead to him).

He was definitely very attached to Louis, but Louis' lack of attachment to him and Daniel's utter contempt guided the audience's opinion a lot more than the softening of his terribleness. Even if it's not their intent, he comes across as the least favorite child. Lestat dropped Louis from the sky and gets a pass, but Armand did...what, exactly? Louis forgave him for playing a part with Claudia's death, but being willing to let Louis die was unforgivable, even after he pulled Louis out of the sun? And Rolin talked about how these were genuine attempts from Armand to be better, to be good to Louis, only to be met in 2.05 with the bleak understanding that none of it meant jack shit to Louis, it was all just a sign of Armand being a boring person who did boring things. "As empathetic as possible," says Rolin, but the actual audience is taking its cues from audience surrogate Daniel, whose opinion isn't based on Armand's experiences or even Louis' experiences, but his own. His entire take on the situation is centered around what Armand did to him, so he ignores anything that could actually make him see where Armand is coming from. He even calls his tragic backstory into question. And don't tell me Armand lied so much he deserved that. Nobody deserves it. Anyway, according to Rolin, Armand lied about two things: who saved Louis at the trial, and how involved he was in the trial itself, and all subsequent lies were covering up those two. Do you ever see Armand bringing up his tragic backstory when he isn't asked to do so? He plays victim about other things, sure, but never about that.

And frankly, some of the things he plays victim about, he has the right to be pissed about. It feels like nobody really grasps 2.05 with any sense of compassion for both Louis and Armand--it's always one or the other of them in total wrong. Either Louis is emotionally abusive during their fight, or Armand tortured and neglected him and made the whole situation about himself.

What if both things can be true, but we understand where they're both coming from? That's the thing about dark fiction: we can actually look critically at relationships like these and see nuance. It's not safe to do that in real life unless you're the therapist involved, but in fiction? We can actually look and see and think. Don't do that if you're in a toxic relationship irl, just get out.

Louis is using drugs to run away from something Armand could have prevented. There's kind of a karma in Armand being forced to be his caretaker. At the same time, I know what being the codependent in a relationship feels like, so...yes, Armand making the situation about himself makes a lot of sense because no situation is ever about himself. He drags Louis out of the sun, and we never talk about how traumatic that is for both of them. Rightly, the focus is on Louis, because Louis is the primary victim in the situation, but he's not the only one traumatized by his own suicide attempt. We, the audience, have the capacity to have empathy for them both, but we seldom do. Instead, we see Armand doing something wrong--the secondary victim demanding understanding from the primary one--and focus way too much on that instead of why.

People feel sorry for themselves because they're overcompensating for the fact that only they ever seem to validate their own experiences. Judging by some of Sam's attitude, I suspect the last person who told Armand "you went through something fucked up and it's okay to not be okay about it" was Marius. Right before the attempt, Louis actively invalidated some of the worst shit Armand ever went through, so sure. I obviously don't agree with Armand's actions in the aftermath, but the important thing is, I'd consider it shitty, shitty writing if the writers decided everyone should immediately be able to act rationally about this. That's not how people work. It's the opposite of how Armand should work. Armand is so poorly socialized, he doesn't know the unwritten social codes, or even why he does what he does. And any time someone calls him out, they can't seem to do so without invalidating completely unrelated traumas he's had.

You can say, "Oh, well, this season was Louis' story, so of course they focused on Louis' perspective," but here's the problem with that: we are not getting a The Vampire Armand season. It wouldn't make sense. The only two main characters who are in those flashbacks are Armand and Marius. That means sidelining almost every series regular for an entire season if they did a TVA season. If every POV character (Daniel, Louis, and Lestat) has total contempt for Armand, exactly when is the audience supposed to have things cleared up for them?

[nocturnesanomaly]

Chapter 4: I've never been one to let go

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series:The Divine Violence - Chapter 4: I've never been one to let go

Wordcount: 5.9K

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, Grooming, Self-harming behaviours

Description: You share your knowledge with the team, reminding you of darker pasts, while Simon seeks to rekindle his familiarity with you.

A/N: You. Yes you. Go drink water. Right now. Good job :)

[Prev chapter / Next Chapter]

The meeting room has lost its fresh smell a long time ago. Too many of the early morning hours spent looking over papers and files, that are all entirely useless to you. Paperwork. It had always been the bane of your existence, even back when it truly mattered to your career. Necessary, and all the more frustrating for it.

The morning sun had already arisen to be at the perfect angle, right where its shine hits you in the eyes when you bend down to read. It had no business being that sharp in this season. It provided so little heat in the late November days, and tended to become more of a hindrance than anything.

Every file on the table listed people of interest, cities, landmarks, field reports from past agents. You flip another one over, trying your best to ignore the file that lays at the edge of the table. The list of casualties. All the crimes of the cult wrapped up into one set of clipped documents. You didn't dare look, to see how many of the names and faces you'd recognize.

"Auness, Backfield, Springview..." Gaz lists off the cities on his document, "I haven't even heard about half of these."

Soap leans over the table from across him. He snatches the paper out of his hand, despite the little protesting sounds Gaz let's out. "Ah, think I’ve been to Springview once...lovely neighbourhood," Soap says with a grin on his face.

"They're all small communities, some were only truly fostered to life after the cult's influence," you inform them. The document in your hand lists off a field report from years ago, a group of soldiers passing by Backfield only to be met with hostility. There had been 10 when they went in, 2 came out. That had been the true start of it back then, when things really derailed.

It had been all over the news for a time. It's incredible how quickly the world forgets.

"All done by the dishonourable... Michael Wilder..." Gaz picks up the document that had been placed in the middle of the table. The only person that ever took any responsibility for it all. Though never suffering the consequences for his crimes, he let it be known he was the one that stood behind it all.

"Ah expected his name to sound different....well...anything other than Michael..." Soap makes a distasteful face, leaning back in his chair. "What kind of cult leader is named Michael, it's not a very intimidating name." Rich coming from a guy named Soap, you think, but the comment never leaves your mind.

"I think that's the point," Gaz corrects, to which you can only nod.

He did have another name once upon a time, but you can scarcely remember it now. Perhaps even before you truly got to know all the things he's done. Maybe he had a nicer side once, that was lost to some tragic event from bad people. It didn't do any good to dwell on it. Who he is now is your problem.

"Murder, Torture, Arson, Kidnapping, Rural crimes...bloody hell, what hasn't this guy done," Gaz says exasperated. There’re many things that man hasn't done that he wanted to; you don't doubt that he would've done a lot worse if there hadn't been a collapse in management. He was building something grand.

"Speculative all of them...can't connect him to all of it, but there's nobody else that could have possible been responsible, the cult is a collective." You can still remember what it was like the first time you walked amongst these cultists. The clear admiration, the shock and awe, the forsaken faith in a brighter future. They might have been misguided, but they truly believed in what they were doing, there was no deceit from them.

"Shit, even something as small as vandalism, who'd have thought" Soap points to it on the list.

"He burnt down a chapel."

Both of them turn their heads to you in an instant, the surprise on their face shows most of their thought process to you. There's not much to explain, the whole ordeal was pretty straight forward. The only crime you personally had physical evidence of still.

"Ah thought they were supposed to be a religious cult..."

"They are. And still he set fire to the chapel, watched it burn down along with the surrounding forest."

You don't feel like their open mouth in awe reaction is warranted. The cult has been responsible for far worse, is planning far worse, is doing far worse as you all speak for all you know. There's only one true problem with the retelling, you're not about to bore them with the details.

"Were there people inside? Any get out?" Gaz asks carefully.

"Twenty-two, none recovered."

The silence stretches out to an uncomfortable extent. You've already made it awkward. That's got to be a record for you by now, how long has it been? Not even 30 minutes. Despite how much you want to refute your words, they are true. There is nothing remotely funny about the group of people you're after.

"There's been more documented causalities, everything is accounted for," you try to sound reassuring, but it comes out as uncertain. The two men either don't care or don't seem to notice.

A chill runs through you, unexpected, a subtle reminder of the eyes on you. Once upon a time you'd be worried about sharing too much information with the wrong kinds of people, the reminder had been helpful then, now it was a nuisance.

"At least we finally have a good shot at getting to these guys," Gaz speaks up and tries to break the uncomfortable atmosphere you've created. "This is extensive work," he nods to you and gestures to the entire table, "impressive."

Soap nods to agree, and you follow the motion idly without thinking. A little too late, you let out a rushed, "thank you."

You block out the rest of their conversation, only perking up your head when anything of relevance was shared. The two kept a good flow of idle chatter and gossip. Nothing you paid any mind to, gossip wasn't why you were here, you reminded yourself.

"So have ye ever actually spoken with any of them?" Soap asks.

"Wha..what?" You stutter. The question came seemingly out of nowhere. You almost drop the pen in your hand. It would have made an annoying clattering sound if you did. The thought makes you tighten your grip.

"They seem like a nasty bunch, preaching all of that with no remorse," Soap continues in an attempt to explain himself, "have ye met with them? Spoken to Michael?"

You want to snap at him. It's a dumb question you want to say, inappropriate and entirely irrelevant to the investigation. Except it's not.

You want to shut him down just as badly regardless.

"Uh... I..." *Fuck me* "Yeah...he's not pleasant...listen I need to get a few of these files scanned in, so I can send them over to Laswell, you two just keep at it, and I'll be back." It's an obvious lie to everyone in the room, a bad attempt at getting out for fresh air. Neither of them comments on it, and within a flash you're gone.

Opening the front door is a dreaded action. You can already imagine the battlefield you'll be entering; the feint mumble of raised voices can already be heard from your position. The minefields are always planted carefully, specific spots that you don't expect unless you've been traversing those dirts for years at a time.

It's never specific, never the same thing.

One wrong step, and you've got someone screaming down your face.

That battlefield was your home.

Opening the door only makes the feint screaming louder to your ears. You quickly locate it to be the kitchen, easy enough to avoid. Just have to kick off your shoes, place them neatly, tiptoe past the little opening and through the living room, to the stairs and your room. All without being noticed.

"Deus spes nostra, my child."

You stop abruptly. The only reason you don't let out a loud squeak of surprise, is the hand you slapped across your mouth. Your head whips towards the couch, gone are all thoughts of the perfect view into the kitchen you're right in the middle of.

Your expression falls when you realize who it is. An old friend of your father's from his military days. He sat on the couch with his usual poise and striking manner. He'd been staying here for the last two months, something about vacation, something about deployment, something about no money, something about too much money.

You had tried asking your father several times, whenever he was in the mood for your presence. Each time you got a different answer, and there was no way you'd find yourself asking the actual man himself.

In no way did you dislike him. He'd always been nice to you, making conversation in the silence, giving you gifts when you were upset. He'd almost been a part of the family since you were young, but he'd been gone for several years, and now you felt like a different person to back then.

"What?"

A grin breaks across his face. His form relaxing into the cushions behind him as he regards you just long enough that you're about to repeat yourself.

"Did your father never teach how to properly respond?"

He runs a hand over smooth blond hair, bleached you'd say, but you have no doubt he'd disagree. Ever since he had come back, he tried to make conversation with you, foster a friendship with you, trying to become some type of adult figure in your life. You don't know what you actually see him as. A man, your father’s friend, a stranger mostly.

"Respond to what?"

"Deus spes nostra, you respond with Deus lux mea est." His stare is a piercing blue, spikes digging into your soul and setting hooks in flesh and meat.

"Why," you ask sceptically.

"It's an affirmation of our faith, an identifier, so to speak." He sees the way you stare quizzically, the way your brain is picking up on the small things, learning the minor details that you haven't even realized yet.

A loud bang can be heard from the kitchen, the split and shatter of glass, and then silence. Your mind panics at the implication, old defence mechanisms going into place. You flinch and move quickly to the nearest couch, curl up on it, making yourself seem as small and unnoticeable as possible. Every fibre in your body told you to end the conversation and go to your room, but the man didn't feel like letting you go just yet.

"Easy, my child, nothing will happen to you as long as you stay with me." He speaks soft words of comfort. It does nothing to ease you.

You try to combat the tremble in your voice, you put on a fierce look, one of strength and deep hidden anger.

"I'm not a child."

He chuckles at that. Two breaths, dry, not believing.

"Oh sure, you do seem very mature for your age."

He's mocking you. It's nothing you haven't heard before, despite the truth of the statement, you were still deemed a kid by most adults in your life. You felt like you had grown faster than the others, you acted with more care, more knowledge, and somehow you still feel behind in every aspect.

"I guess...people have told me that a lot" You look towards the opening to the kitchen. All it would take was for the conversation to become too loud, to bring attention upon yourself. It would be so easy to bring on the wrath of your father or the disgust of your mother. You had the marks to count for it.

"You're a special one, your father tells me as much. I can still remember when you were younger, always a bit peculiar." That would be a head turner if you've ever heard one. There’s no part of you that actually believes his words, yet he says them with such conviction.

Any word that comes out of your father’s mouth about you has never been in a positive light. Occasionally he'll drop a hint of satisfaction whenever you do something for him, but that's as good as it's gonna get. Being called special or peculiar by your father must be more of an insult.

The man reaches out and places an unwelcome hand on your knee. He seems to notice the change in your expression. An uncertain frown settling on your lips. "Not in a bad way, dear, you've got something others don't, a potential that others can't see, but I do," he says.

That doesn't reassure you in the slightest, but the little flame in your heart is already lit.

"You're turning eightteen soon, isn't that right? Next year?" He asks and pulls back again. He takes note in the way you seem to release the tension in your shoulders. There's no longer any noise from the kitchen. You don't hear it.

"Yeah..."

He smiles.

"Have you ever thought about enlisting? Serving with your brother and sisters in arms, I'm sure it'd make your father very proud." He seems too sure, and perhaps he was right. Your father's time in the military had always been described with honour and respect. A time of his life where he did something worthwhile, it made him the man he is today.

"Uh...I...No...I haven't"

You never want to be anything like him.

"You can't be serious, Simon!" Your voice echoes throughout the graveyard. A few of the crows in the trees fly off into the sunset. Simon knew you'd react like this. He thought himself prepared for your outrage, ready to comfort you and make you understand. Your emotions are intense and renders him silent.

"You can't go! What about everything we have going on here, we had a plan you know! You can't just bail on that."

The plan had always been a fantasy, he thought you knew that. Something you would whisper aloud in the quiet of the night. Dreams of running away, of scraping enough money to get a small flat together, of helping each other through the adult years of your life, at least until you both got stable.

He had seen it for what it was, a childish fantasy. It wasn't a reliable solution.

"God, and even just listening to the stories from my dad, it's awful there, why would you want to be a part of that!"

The graveyard feels ice-cold. The spider lilies are dead. There's no warmth to gain from the lowering sun, painting the sky in gold and orange. You've never looked more beautiful than this. Emotion so evident in your eyes, and the sun's glow reflecting it. He doesn't fail to notice the tears lining your eyes, the breaths you hold in an attempt to not cry.

You look divine, an angel on earth.

The last thing he wants is to see you plunged into darkness. Something he fears will happen when he takes his departure alone. He adores you, he always has deep down, but he needs to prioritize himself, get himself out before this place kills him completely.

"I thought we were in this together! I thought you cared for us, for me, for all this!"

Your words are chipping away at his patience. Your inability to understand his side of things, the unwilling part of you that won't even try. He understands as far as it allows him to. He knows you're afraid of what will happen if you're separated. You've always struggled with believing in yourself.

He knew you'd be fine. He knew you'd find your own way out, that you could be reunited in a few years somewhere better, healthier and safer.

"We are!" he yells back, "I care so much for you, for what we have even when it's here."

"Then why won't you-"

"But I can't stay here spider, it's killing me" he cuts you off.  The words leave a sour taste on his tongue, it's the bare-bones truth that can be applied to both of you. Your own childhood homes weren't safe for neither of you. Mentally nor physically.

"I get that...but...what about me..."

"Spider, not everything is about you!" he regrets his words just as quick as they leave his mouth. He can see the look of betrayal on your face, it matches the dread he feels in his stomach. You take a retreating step backwards. "Wait-" he calls your name; he reaches for you, but you don't let him touch you.

"You have to understand, this is the only way out for me. In the military, I might actually be able to do some good," he tries to explain to you.

You're not having any of it.

"Fine, go then! Get yourself killed" you shout, turning on your heel before he can stop you. His brain screams at him to follow you, to comfort you, to get you to understand so you won't be mad at him, but he doesn't.

After years and years of searching, Simon has found that roaming the halls aimlessly has become an adequate stress relief. There are certain times of the day when the halls are completely deserted. Each step echoes and bounce off the walls around him. A rare occurrence when he doesn't care to make his steps featherlight, he let’s people hear he's coming.

It makes for a good trance of thought. He disliked most of the walks outside around base, the frost biting at his covered skin, and damp boots seeping water into his socks, but the hallways were dry and quiet. Most of the time.

He's solved a lot of internal problems this way. Stomping through the hallways deep in thought and looking as intimidating as ever. Back when he and Johnny were new and uncertain, he used to avoid him this way. One easy way to avoid someone who was always looking for you, was to always be on the move.

Of course, it hadn't worked forever, Johnny eventually found him, and made him confront his own feelings despite how uncomfortable it made him.

This time around, his thoughts drift to you. They always drift to you these days. Like a disease you've infested his thoughts, reminded him of things that was once buried deeply. There's still a lot of things unresolved between the two of you, things he wishes he could sit you down and talk to you about.

Ever since you've arrived, you had a weird effect on him. You manage to leave your presence in every room you walk into, he can almost sense where you've been, the people you've talked to. You're everywhere, and whenever he needs to find you, you disappear completely.

It's a frustrating cycle.

Perhaps for the first time, he understands how frustrated Johnny must have been those years ago when he avoided him like the plague. You seem to be doing the same thing now, whether you're conscious of it or not.

Part of him is completely fine with it. You stay out of each other's way, avoid bringing up any bad blood. It doesn't absolve his endless questions, however. He can barely focus, even when he's with Johnny, every scar of his that he lets his eyes run over, his thoughts go to yours. How did you get them, who gave them to you, are they still alive?

He could always figure it all out on his own. There was no real need to ask, but he still held a modest amount of respect for you.

He doesn't pay attention as someone zooms right past him. Whoever they were, they were in a hurry, and in his mind, it was no concern of his. More than likely just a recruit late for training, or a soldier forgetting their report.

It's only when he refocuses his eyes and sees Johnny standing in the distance with a look of disbelief on his face, that he turns around to see you zooming away in the distance, rounding a corner when you finally get far enough.

He raises his brows behind his mask, his eyes turning to narrow slightly as he pieces together a situation, which he has no context to.

"They finally get sick of you?" Simon questions broadly, his voice taking a joking tone with the man lingering in the doorway.

Johnny didn't look all that much amused, his eyes continuing to follow you until you were completely out of sight. "They're an interesting one," Johnny mumbles while letting out a sigh.

"Don't like them?"

"Ye kiddin? Ah adore the dark, mysterious, quiet bastards that somehow always enter my life" Johnny's tone comes across as sarcastic, but there's truth to his words. Early on in their relationship, Simon had been convinced that Johnny just had a huge case of saviour complex for him. He still doesn't know if it actually did start out like that, but he can say with certainty it's developed much more complex.

Simon scoffs and shakes his head. "They didn't use to be so..." he trails off, looking back at where you went as if he could catch another glimpse, but you were already gone.

"Moody?" Johnny proposes half serious.

"Distant," Simon corrects him.

Johnny nods. He walks out of the doorway, does a gesture to someone inside, and lets the door close behind him with a soft click. The hallway is plunged back into silence as the two look at each other. Simon has never really liked intense eye contact, but he makes way too much of it on purpose.

"Have ye talked to 'em yet?" Johnny walks over to the nearby wall, leaning against it lazily. He looks tired, worn out, which is a surprise from the lack of meaningful things to do over the last while. It's not completely nonsensical, Simon is well aware of how easily Johnny can be drained from lack of activity. Having something to do is what scratches that needed itch deep in his brain.

"I've tried to." Johnny doesn't look like he believes him. He would like to convince himself that it's true, but a part of him hasn't been searching for a level ground with you either. He has no idea where to start, how to re-establish that familiarity you once shared. It makes all the deep corners of his mind stir.

Johnny gives him a look he knows well. He knows he should get on it, push past any fears and at least get back on a professional standing instead of skittish cats tiptoeing around each other like the other is going to strike.

"Don't look at me like that," Simon says defensively. Johnny puts his hands up mimicking surrender, his teeth flashing through in his smile. The smirk could easily be wiped off his face, but he has no energy to do anything about it.

"Just talk to them already, ah can practically feel the tension three rooms over every time ye two are in each other's vicinity." Johnny shakes his head, before urging Simon on his way.

A droplet of sweat falls into your eyes. It stings and leaves a burning sensation behind. In any other scenario, you'd be fighting yourself to get it quickly wiped away, to get the pain to stop. Your focus is elsewhere. Plastered on the punching bag in front of you.

Each hit sends you further and further into a locked state of mind.

One two one two one two.

It keeps your thoughts occupied. Prying them away from the creeping shadows and their tempting whispers.

Miss it. Miss it.

Hit yourself. Hit yourself.

You close your eyes and continue to count.

One two one two

Bang your face against the wall till the bone inverts.

They're insistent tonight.

You switch up your stance. Circling the bag before taking it on at a different angle. You want to excuse your jittery movements on too much coffee, but you know the reminder of how close you're getting to going near that hell is enough to have you like this.

The more you think about it, the more the small whispers in your ears taunt you. A scent of sulphur and burnt flesh sometimes pass you by. It makes you do a double take in your movements, before you can tell yourself that it's not here. It doesn't make it go away, but if you focus just a little more on the red fabric of the bag instead of the red on your knuckles, then maybe it will tone itself down.

It's a futile attempt. The voices never really listened, no matter how much you answered them or ignored them. Independent of your reaction, they only seemed to want to taunt your mind. You could hardly recall back when your mind would be relatively empty, but the time had been there.

You try to circle the bag again, coming back and forth between the space you're allowed. Your respite comes in the knowledge that nobody would be here to observe your uncertainty. There was hardly anyone at the gym this late at night. The reason you chose it in the first place.

You were rusty, a bit out of shape, but you still had your technique. It had been hammered into you for years, you wouldn't forget it that easily. Each hit to the bag makes it sway slowly around, the massive weight not being very deterred by your punches.

Blood rushes through your veins, your heart pounding in your chest and causing you to breathe unevenly. It's an afterthought to put yourself through small breathing techniques between sets. Every sound that emits in the room plays into your mind, flashes images to the forefront of your brain.

The sound of the wind outside splashing against the windows. The sound of your punches against the bag. The sound of distant footsteps. The sound of a barking dog outside, one that would bear red crosses on white pelt. The sound of low murmuring all around you. The sound of a gunshot.

You whip your head around, choking on your own spit, when you're met by the sight of the man you've been avoiding. Your eyes flicker to the person behind him, made of shadows, smiles and bad omens. It puts an uneven hand on Simon's shoulder.

The sound of your beating heart is loud in your ears, you almost fear he can hear it as well. Your breath is low, uneven, easily excusable to the exercise you were doing instead of the nightmare standing there. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palm. Small droplets of blood trickle in-between your fingers.

He hands you a water bottle. It takes you by surprise, a sudden gesture of kindness. "You look about ready to collapse," his voice is gruff and tired. You bite the inside of your cheek when you accept it.

The cold water is like heaven for your dry throat. Your body graciously accepting the hydration it's clearly needed for a while now. He wasn't totally wrong about your state. You heard the whispers, how you've been looking sick the entire day. Then again when don't you.

"Thank you..." you mumble quietly, taking another gulp from it.

"Yeah..." he looks at you like he's expecting something from you.

You stare at him wearily, trying your damned hardest to discern whatever expression he's making under the mask by his eyes alone. More than anything, you wanted to pull it off of him. You wanted to see him, truly see him.

Would he have stubble? A full-on beard, maybe. Would he have the same hair length as back then, would he have smile lines, wrinkles when he laughs? His voice was deeper, would his laugh sound different now?

"We need to talk," he says your name so quietly, like he's afraid to utter it, as if you'd spring on him like a monstrous creature or haunted ghost.

"We're talking," technically you aren't, but for you this might as well be a conversation already. Heat blooms in your chest, rising unwillingly to your cheeks. Once upon a time that would've been from bashfulness, now it was more of a deep-rooted shame, a fear of your own anticipation for what's to come.

"I'm..." he stutters over his own words, "I'm not entirely sure what went wrong between us."

He pauses and your eyebrows furrow, your mouth quivering with words unspoken.

"Maybe it was something I did, being the reason, we stopped talking but..." your eyes flicker around his mask, the urge turns pained in your chest. He shakes his head. "I hope we can put it past us, for the sake of the mission."

You hand the water bottle back to him. He accepts it, but you can see in his movements how he takes it as rejection. Your eyes are clear on the target he's becoming.

"No, I..." your voice comes out raspy. You clear your throat. "I'm not sure either, what went wrong, but I hold nothing against you...Simon...I guess we just grew apart." It's a big fat lie, but the millisecond of what you'd call relief that shows in his eyes are well worth it.

He exhales his breath loud enough to be noticeable, his form sagging just a little without breaking. "You don't?" when you nod as confirmation, he matches it. "That so...I'd like to start again...I'm curious where you've been all this time, it would be nice to catch up...begin again."

That little voice in your head bristles. A quiet little thing that belongs to a childhood version of you. It wants him to shut up, to stop the pretending front he's putting on. Then there's the other little voice, a voice of reason, one that's still young and malleable. They fight over your decision-making.

He looks down at your hands, notices the feint trail of blood where you split a knuckle. His eyes go small, focusing on it a tad too long before you can pull your hands out of view from him.

Your teeth catch your lip before you make the conscious decision to let it go. "Yeah...we can...try again...from the beginning," the dry laugh you let out doesn't sound convincing, but it seems to be enough for him to buy into. Maybe all you had isn't dead just yet, and when the call comes crashing it all down, you can use the connection for your own burning benefit.

"Right..." there's a note of excitement in his voice, the slightest change in octave and rhythm. "I'll be looking forward to it," he takes his turn to leave the same way he had sneaked in. "Oh, and spider, clean yourself and the equipment up, gonna give yourself a bad reputation like that."

He's being cheeky behind that mask, you can tell. Yet the reawakening of the nickname stirs the softest of a smile to almost make it to your lips.

Your feet hurt. Every step sends another spike of pain up your legs, every swaying movement threatening to send you barrelling forward. You're late. Horribly late. Each breath catches in your throat, and you barely look at the road before you pass it. Only a loud honking alerting to just how close you were to being run over, but you couldn't stop, you had to catch him in time.

You couldn't believe you were almost missing this. Your last chance at seeing him before he leaves for good. The wind hisses in your ears, the cold burns at your uncovered feet. You couldn't believe you had let it come to this.

For the last few weeks, you had been ignoring him, only sharing the most necessary of things. There was no banter between you, no jokes or laughter, and all because you couldn't contain your own anger for his decision.

His stupid, stupid decision.

You couldn't talk him out of going.

He couldn't talk you out of resenting him for it.

The sky is on fire. Rays of the sun blinding you on your way, making you squint your eyes to see. The oranges mixed with yellows makes the clouds look unreal. It's a thing that would have stopped you if it weren't for the agonizing consequences of your decisions weighing on your shoulders. The sky meant nothing to you now.

The graveyard is a welcome sight, the rusted gate creaked open wider than normal. You zoom past it, stumbling over one of the larger rocks scattered about. It propels you forward into the yard, crashing your knees against the gravel. It cuts and stings, but the buzzing under your skin is too loud to notice.

You call out his name. Your voice holding no bounds for your desperation. The only sound that comes back is the crows squawking, the fluttering of wings as they fly far away from you. There's no answer to your call, no familiar voice sounding out to meet you, no warm hand on your shoulder that would pull you into a hug.

He's gone, you realize all too late.

One forgetting mind, two arguments with your mother, and a punishment to follow, all for nothing. You missed your window. You missed the time he'd said he'd wait. He's left and with what, the only knowledge that you're angry with him. He's putting himself in potential danger, and he thinks you resent him.

More than that, he's actually out of reach for you now.

A fear that had infested your bones long before his ugly announcement. A fear that was now no longer just a fear.

Your breathing stutters. Your vision blurs. Blues, oranges, greys and reds, blobs of nothing filling your vision spilling down your cheeks. They might as well freeze in place. Your legs refuse to obey, your body hunches over from every dry heave, every soundless sob and every claw at the ground.

You were alone now.

Yet a hand places itself on your shoulder. It spooks you enough to let out a scream, yet when you whip around, you're only met with a soft smile. The hand is too big to be Simon's, too rough and too scarred. You stare into the eyes of a different man.

A friend. An enemy. A figure you could cling your shattered mind to in your late teen angst.

"You'll be alright," he mouths the words, and you're sure he speaks them, but they never reach you.

"You can meet him again," he stands tall, watches down at your kneeling form with a twist of something that churns your stomach, "I can show you the way to him."

"What?" Your voice is barely audible.

"Through the path to God we may find redemption, and through that path you may find your friend once again, we are all the same under His light."

He tosses a lighter down on the ground next to you.

"Let me show you the path to the light."

You can smell the smoke in the air, taste the ash on your tongue, feel the blood beneath your nails.

It's too late to let go now the hook has sunk into flesh.

The flame is already lit.

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