#and people not following the current story at all

[semisolidmind]

happy valentines day, vintage valentines upon ye

these two have a story

(takes place in a vague 50's themed world of toony folks and animal people)

our sweet lady here was once good friends (and maybe a lil something more) with the hysteric hare currently chasing her down, but due to certain prejudices on behalf of humans towards beastfolk...

...he was involved in a bit of a scuffle. a gang of humans who didn't like the look of a uptown gal walking around with a "glorified pet" decided to "teach him a lesson."

long story short, hare beats the stuffing out of them, they call the cops, prejudice dictates that the beastfolk is unjustly punished whilst any humans involved get off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist.

the gal can only watch as her companion is dragged away, muzzled, and tossed in the back of a paddy wagon; they take him away. she hears nothing more about him for a long, long while, no matter how much she asks. her parents and all her snobbish human friends tell her to forget about him, that she's better off without him around. she doesn't talk to them much after that.

while in the clink, the hare becomes more and more angry at his situation. he's treated like he's rabid while institutionalized, the muzzle never coming off for long before its strapped right back on. getting into fights with other inmates, one of his eyes becoming permanently damaged, picking up new injuries every day...he can't take it anymore.

with some careful planning and few murdered guards, the hare escapes.

he makes his way back to town, and back to the girl. when he finds her at a gathering in the park, he watches her from the trees. she's at a picnic with the people from her family's upper class social circle, the type that look down on animalfolk like him. she looks miserable standing there, making idle chitchat with humans that would sooner see him skinned and stewed than lower themselves to talk to him.

something breaks in the hare.

he creeps up behind the closest aristocrat and quickly snaps their neck. chaos breaks out immediately, with some of the men present trying to subdue him. but even the weakest beastfolk is still stronger than the average human, and the would-be heroes are knocked to the side.

the hare may not be a carnivore, one with claws meant to kill, but his digging claws are plenty sharp enough to cut through the upper-crust attendees like butter. he quickly loses track of his target, the girl having fled deeper into the park.

once everyone else has either run or been rendered immobile, the hare follows her.

he allows her some time to calm herself, let her think that maybe, just maybe, he doesn't know exactly where she is.

the hare knows how frightening he must look to her now, no trace of her sweet gentleman caller left in the murderous, blood-drenched, maddened monster hunting her now.

but he's fought his way back to her, and he's not about to leave empty-handed. they'll run away, and make a new life somewhere more hospitable to couples like them.

he'll carry her the whole way, if he has to.

[ghost-askblog]

(Please read <3)

hey everyone! its been a bit hasn't it...

i've still been popping in here and there and i'm honestly so glad this whole hate train fiasco has finally come to a much needed close (for the most part) and watching all of these new ask blogs flourish since then has been so insanely heart warming for me. i'm so glad to see you all doing well!

during my break i've come to terms with just how much i really needed it and feeling the weight of everything off my shoulders whether it being the overwhelming feeling of obligation to get to everyone's asks and make everyone happy really got to me in the long run more than i'd like to admit. story of a people-pleaser's life, i suppose.

it makes me so happy and honestly fucking gobsmacked to this day to be reminded that this amazing community got revived by just a weird cod obsessed freshly turned 18 year old highschooler that simply wanted to have fun and make friends with people of a like interest. crazy how life works, innit?

during this period of taking time to myself and reflecting off of what really happened i've decided not to continue this blog for the sake of myself and my own mental health. in spite of this i'm still so insanely grateful of how much love and support i have been getting even during my hiatus and for that i love you all sooo so much <33

i'm not going to completely disappear, and i certainly won't stop using tumblr (for the foreseeable future, anyways.) and i highly encourage you to have fun and interact with many of the other ghost ask blogs that came to be during my break, or just any new blogs in general that decided to join this silly little community of like-minded individuals that just want to have fun role playing their favorite characters in the cod community.

if you'd still like to interact with me, then please feel more than welcome to do so. i won't be tagging my main outright but just know if you find it, it's there for you.

most importantly, i want to thank all of the original ask blogs that derived from mine, especially after my spike in popularity that honestly shocked me as well. damn near 1k followers in a span of 2 months is baffling already as it is, especially to someone like me that didn't have much of an internet presence as it is.

and with that said, hi! i'm francis, better known as fran, and i'm the young fella behind this blog! i recently turned 18 in october and i'm finishing my final year of high school. i love my friends so so so much and honestly i wouldn't even be nearly where i am if it wasn't for them. i'm currently involved in a dual-enrollment program to get my associates degree in criminal psychology and my favorite color is red! i am a huge video game and movie geek, having rewatched the entire marvel timeline more times than i can count, as well as having a love for indie and thriller/horror elemented story games. (fnaf, tlou, mouthwashing, resident evil, silent hill, just to name a few)

this has been so much fun, and i thank you all for staying with me this long. i'm eternally grateful❤️

—this was fran, signing off with a brand new video game in hand and a good long exhale of relief.

go follow these guys they're fucking awesome

@askthemactav @shadow-5-05 @shadow-2-08 @itsvargen @krueger-acc @brav0six @ask-private-141 @konigisking @justradiospirit @ask-corporaltwins-141 @verytiredmedic @callsign-king @shadow5-7 @captain-after-dark @lieutenant-banks @b1gm0n3yb1gg3rc4n3 @callsign-cups @alejandro-ask @el-perro-rabiosa @callsign-kits @price-askblog @keegan-askblog @generalshepherd-askblog @gaz-askblog @ask-alex-keller @valera-askblog @ask-roachsanderson @jeanzoriley-cod @ask-gaz @ask-soapmactavish @ask-phillip-graves @johnprice-asks @ask-philgraves @ask-lieutriley

oh, and to all of these rp blog tags? allow me the grace of being your 🧟‍♀️ anon (iykyk)

[dgsurfers]

There is a parlor that is said to be established somewhere off Tumblr Avenue. However, it is not accessible to many. I will relay the story of the parlor that an old Tumblr colleague of mine once told me.

Smooth and trim, shelved between a Likes page and an archive, the parlor does not make an effort to exhibit its business inside. One might be surprised at the gaudy interior past the prairie-grille doors. A fitting entrance, seeing that “doors” are the top trade inside the building.

You might be surprised by this--I was, over blintzes and sugar cubes with my colleague--but there is quite a large market for “split-wood”, a term coined in the business for doors with graffiti on one side. A home or store owner might wake up one morning, greeted by tenuous white lines of illustration on their doorway. No one knows whether it is one artist, a collective, or divine chance; either way, if your building is met with this fortune, you can take the door to this parlor to be auctioned or sold, as regulars believe the illustration contains certain prophetic qualities for their life.

The interior may feel very congested at first, according to my colleague. It's not tall, but stretches a bit towards the back, and the low, blooming lights are disorienting. Leather cushion seats are clustered and scattered at the whims of the current attendees. A terrible layer of smoke clouds the bar, which is adorned with metal chains and wires. The six owners of the building all share a similar taste, and thus the decoration stays. My colleague once sat in on an auction with his friend from a Server school.

His friend, who I will name as NV, was a man with a bad habit of taking pictures of strangers in public. It was his attempt at “candid photography”, but often it would result in him peeking through windows, waiting behind corners, and following poor saps down dark alleys. He would at times tell his dreams of amorphous shapes that encouraged him to “capture people in their true state”. He was gregarious and at the same time aggressive--once we met at a Blogger’s beach event and, noticing my timidity toward the water, bulldozed me in by the shoulders. At this auction, my friend had been invited by NV, who had already become a regular for the past several months.

Waiting at the bar for the event to begin, NV mouthed through his cigar something unexpected. The split-wood being auctioned that day were fraudulent. This particular NV had commissioned for a low price to mimic the shared style on four doors, store-bought. It was his idea that that must be the origin of most split-wood auctioned there, unknown to the oblivious auction-goers. It was easy profit, and the parlor was covert enough to dip in and out of. He’d come with the intention of hiking the price, the money going to a stand-in party who agreed to give it all to him. When the auction began, all four illustrations faced the wall.

The painted sides would only be revealed to the audience once all were bought, so as to preserve the lure of their supposed prophetic meanings. NV and my colleague were stuffed somewhere in the rows of leather chairs as the auctioneer began to sound off prices. The first door slowly made its way up to 2900, and then pushed from a 4100 bid by NV to 7500. The second and third were sold for similar prices, 12700 and 16500 respectively, much higher than the average auction. When the fourth came around, NV seemed to be completely feverish, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief and adjusting his cuffs. As for my colleague, he was quite relaxed by the smoke and din among the small audience.

The sound of the auctioneer’s gavel seemed to pass over his ears and make NV flinch to attention as the fourth door’s sale began. It went from 1000, to 4000, to 6000, 6500 (by NV) and then in the end, 12000. All in the audience looked around wordlessly, waiting for anything more, but that was final. NV had begun nervously thumbing his chin and chuckling, attempting to withhold any excitement. The man excused himself silently to smoke a cigar outside, telling my colleague to meet him in front at any time he was ready. With a wink, he left the parlor. However my colleague lingered inside, out of the simple curiosity to watch for a minute the swindled folk.

Donned with black leather gloves, the parlor’s handler swiftly exited from the back hall to rotate the doors for the buyers. Those who had stood to see suddenly slowed--then an outburst of murmurs between gloved hands and folding jackets took over the room. On each split-wood, the previously white lines had come to violently render black boxes of varying sizes, with materials unintelligible.

The depictions were unlike any previous piece, and any details that could have been interpreted for fortune had been rendered null. Only the shape of the rectangle remained. Anyone who looked out the window at that point would have seen the incapacitated NV locked inside the tight lattice of a metal enclosure, to which he could not escape. It was said he lay on the concrete completely stifled. After the panicked attention of my colleague, then those inside the building, followed by the street crowd and the fire department and the local metal workers and finally the moderators, NV silently succumbed and deactivated.

That is simply the story as I heard it, and I did not feel up to finishing my sugar cubes after.

[anthurak]

Here’s something that might be a bit of a hot take:

I think Summer is inadvertently responsible for basically the ENTIRE current/‘modern’ plot of RWBY.

As in, Summer’s whole super-secret-sapphic-suicide mission with Raven wasn’t just the defining and inciting incident of Ruby’s and Yang’s whole character arcs. She also unwittingly kicked off all of SALEM’s current plotting and scheming.

I think basically EVERYTHING we’ve been seeing Salem do over the course of the show, from creating Grimm Hybrids to using Cinder to steal the maiden powers to even recruiting ALL of her current followers to her current plots to destabilize the kingdoms, ALL STARTED with whatever happened when she met Summer.

For one, I think it’s pretty apparent that Salem ‘learning she could do something new…’ as Ruby put it, didn’t just lead to her Grimm Hybrid program, but ALSO the ‘Grimm-Implants’ that have allowed Cinder to steal the maiden powers. Thereby giving Salem a far more direct way of getting to the Vaults and acquiring the Relics.

And that’s not even going into what ELSE Salem might have learned from her encounter with Summer and Raven. Say for example, things about the Silver Eyes that nobody else has realized…

I think 15+ years before the show started, Salem probably didn’t have ANY schemes or plots in mind and may have even been close to giving up on whatever her true goals actually are*. But then SUMMER not only inadvertently emboldened Salem, she gave her KNOWLEDGE that provided Salem the proverbial missing piece(s) she needed to finally accomplish her goals.

In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if we find out that, through Salem, Summer’s actions butterflied out to affect/inform pretty much ALL the major events that have shaped the present day of RWBY. Shaping not just Ruby’s and Yang’s lives, but maybe even Weiss’s and Blake’s too. Like perhaps Salem’s machinations as part of her new schemes are what led to the death(s) of Ironwood’s predecessors and lead to him being installed as headmaster, general and the unexpected new member of the Ozluminati, greatly altering the future of Atlas. Or maybe Salem’s recruiting of Leonardo informed waves of anti-Faunus actions in Anima via deliberate mismanagement/non-action from Leo, which in turn lead to the further radicalization of the White Fang?

Basically, given just how central she is to the stories of two of our main characters, and RWBY’s theme of decrying ‘heroic sacrifices’ and the implications that Summer’s mission is going to end up being framed as a huge MISTAKE on her part, I think it would be rather appropriate if Summer also unwittingly kicked off the ENTIRE modern plot of RWBY.**

Also you may note that I’ve been stressing that Summer unintentionally did all of this, because as I’ve stated elsewhere I think the idea that Summer might have willingly joined Salem just doesn’t work with everything we’ve learned so far. Particularly with Summer being the ‘patient zero’ of Salem’s Grimm Hybrid Program.

*Considering that Oz’s GUESS about her goal being a suicidal-cosmic-temper-tantrum is such an OBVIOUS red-herring at this point that it is baffling how some people still think it’s actually legit

**Also it would make a very fun twist considering how so much of the fandom seems to think that Oz is somehow at the center of everything.

[rosenclaws]

Do Mutants Dream of Two-Headed Sheep? Chapter 1 || Logan x Cyborg!Reader

Summary: You find yourself in a strange place after being rescued and you don't feel very welcome here.

Warnings: Body horror, angst, blood, medical stuff, injury, angry reader, defensive Logan, reader has a panic attack

wc: 2.2k

a/n: Here's the first chapter! Its mostly set up with a lot of angst but I'm excited to take this story and explore more about both Logan and the reader.

Series Masterlist

They were called the X-Men. They’re mutants. Just like you. You didn’t know anything. They asked you a million questions. Hooked you up to machines. Took X-Rays. Ran tests. Their scientist. Beast. Hank as he asked you to call him. He poked and prodded you for hours.

You hated every moment of it. You were a fucked up creation. He apologized but you paid him no mind. All you could stare at was your new robotic body. What did they turn you into? Hank starts talking.

The people who did this to you, they replaced half of your body with machine parts. But it was incomplete. They meant to turn you fully into a robot, a heartless, cold dead weapon who would listen to their every command. But by the time the X-men had gotten there they had only gotten half way through.

“It’s incredible really.” Hank mumbles and your head whips to the side.

“Incredible? You call being torn apart and replaced by metal incredible?” You spit. His eyes widen as he starts to back peddle, apologizing for his insensitive language but you don’t want to fucking hear it.

“Leave me alone. I’m done being your little show pony.” You snarl.

“I…I’ll be back later to check on you.” Hank offers you a small smile but you just stare ahead of you.

You look at your hands, your arms, your legs. You can barely differentiate between your new body and the medical IV’s that Hank and stuck in you. You had no memories, no clue who you were, how you got there in the first place. The only thing you remember is pain. Only pain.

You hated it. In a fit of rage you grab the IV wires and rip them out of your arm. You watch as blood drips down your arm. The only reminder you have that you’re still made of flesh. 

Upstairs Charles had called a team meeting. All of them for the lack of a better term were unsettled. They’re mutants. They’ve seen a lot of things in their life. People who don’t look human or have some mutation that changes their physical appearance. But this. This was utterly new and horribly cruel. 

“According to the files we extracted from their computer, the mutant you found is known as Project G.H.O.S.T.” Charles sets down the files on his desk.

“Doctor Peter Crane is the lead scientist hired by Section K. Unfortunately, we were unable to capture him or the leader of a mutant experimentation group. But we were able to get their information and future plans all while destroying their current base of operations.” Scott follows while skimming through the amount of information gathered on the mission.

“Who are they? Why did Crane want them?” Storm asks as she looks at the folder with all your information.

“We don’t know. Most of the information had already been destroyed, not even a name. But from what…” Scott trails off, unsure of how to phrase it. He glances at Logan for just a second before turning back to Charles.

“What we do have, we think they were planning on turning them into a living weapon. Strip them of their humanity and turn them into a puppet.” That struck a chord with Logan. Living weapon, yeah he’s heard that one before. He was one before.

“Did they?” Logan asks gruffly.

“We don’t know. It looks like they only got half way through before we found them.” Scott replies.

Logan grunts in response. He stops listening to Scott once he moves on, something about plans or whatever. He doesn’t care. His thoughts drift back to you. Just what are you? Charles didn’t mention anything about a mutant like you. Half machine. Logan was the one to save you, to cut you free and try to get you out but now he’s wondering if it was a mistake.

What if they had turned you already? Destroyed your humanity and they brought you right into the heart of the X-Men. Are you dangerous? He knows what it’s like to be experimented on, to be turned into a puppet for the masters to play with.

Anyone else would feel a connection, a level of understanding. But Logan, he can’t trust that easily. This is his home and the people living in this mansion are his family. He knows what you could possibly be.

And he doesn’t trust it one bit.

“You’re all dismissed, we’ll try and find out more and plan for next week.” Charles says. He turns his head to stare directly at Logan.

“Logan. Come with me.” Logan grumbles as he gets out of his chair and follows the professor through the halls.

“I know you’re distrustful of our new guest,” Charles starts making Logan scoff.

“Your thoughts are louder than you think Logan. I would have assumed you would be more…understanding.” Charles says carefully. Understanding isn’t exactly the word anyone would use to describe Logan but it was the best choice.

“I understand how dangerous people like us can be.” Logan states plainly. The destruction he caused as Weapon X, he doesn’t remember most of it but he can still smell the blood and sometimes he catches glimpses in his nightmares.

“I see.”

Logan steps in the elevator with Charles and stays quiet as it brings them down to the laboratory. When they enter your room they just see you sitting on the bed. Your eyes staring at the small TV in front of you. The channels flipping back and forth rapidly.

“Hello my dear, my name is Charles Xavier.” You glance at him, then at Logan before turning your attention back to the TV.

“I know this is a lot to process but I promise you we’re here to help you.” Still silent.

“When you’re ready, we have a room ready and we’d like to ask you some questions.” Still nothing. Logan grows irritated at your lack of response.

“Hey. He’s talking to you bub.” Logan snaps, the words tumbling out of his mouth without even thinking. You glare at him as he slams his hand against the TV, shutting it off. With a flick of your wrist it turns right back on.

“Technopathy, a rare mutation indeed.” Charles notes.

“Logan, show them to their dorm room. I think they’ve spent enough time down here.” Charles leaves, stranding you alone with Logan.

He’s the one who found you. You recognize his voice. Though this time he’s much angrier than he was before. He’s hostile and it looks like he might claw you right where you sit.

“Alright kid-”

“I’m not a kid.” You snap. Your robotic hand clenching around the rails of the bed, crushing the metal with ease.

“Fine. I want to know exactly what they did to you. Give me one reason I should let you near any of those kids up there.” Logan growls. You just laugh at his audacity, he doesn’t scare you for a second.

“Aren’t you a warm welcome? Is this typical X-Men hospitality? Stick needles and threaten my life? ” You spit and Logan’s claws come out instantly.

“Listen bub, I know their plans and I want to make sure you aren’t already the weapon they wanted to create.”

“What if I am Logan? A trojan horse to spy on your little friends.” You’re not, you have control but he was pissing you off. If he was going to treat you like a threat you sure as hell weren’t going to spare him any real explanation.

“Then I’ll slice you to pieces in a heartbeat.” He says, brandishing his claws.

Without thinking you flinch just seeing them. They remind you of the blades, the pain as you went in and out of consciousness. Your heart starts to race as flashes of broken memories. The pain shoots through your body, both sides. You don’t understand. You push yourself off the bed and flee to the corner of the room. Logan’s eyes widen as you start to mumble. Your fingers digging into your hair as you try and calm yourself down.

“Hey kid I-” Logan’s cut off by the TV exploding next to him.

“Fuck!” Logan hisses as the parts of the screen dig into his skin.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean it.” You cry.

Logan reaches out but the sight of his claws send you deeper into your spiral. With your right hand you push him into the wall and run.

You hear him shouting but you keep running. Grabbing a jacket from one of the lockers you hurry into the elevator, putting it around you and hoping it covers some of your robotic body. When the doors open you leap out of sight, maneuvering your way through the halls as you hear the sound of children laughing and footsteps getting too close. You can’t think straight, you want to leave. You don’t want to be here anymore, you just want to go home.

What even was home? Did you have one? Did you have a family? You see a group of kids approaching your hiding spot and you bolt. You see a large open door and throw it open, slamming it shut and leaning against it. Closing your eyes you try to focus on your breathing. Your lungs had been replaced too, with each breath you hear the turning of the gears and the squeaking of the air pump.

“I may owe you an apology my dear, perhaps Logan was not the right person to leave you with.” You open your eyes to see Charles at this desk. Fuck the room you went into was his office.

“You think?” You bite back, though you feel yourself a little more relaxed around this man. He chuckles and beckons you over to sit.

“I apologize. You see, you and Logan share more than you may think.” You raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything about it.

“He thinks I’m a threat.” You close the jacket tighter around you. Charles stares at you and you feel something off in your head.

“Please don’t read my mind.” You mumble, trying to shut him out. To his surprise you do.

“I’m sorry, your thoughts are just very loud.” From Hank's scans Charles had discovered that your body was an odd mix of human and machine.

Your heart and lungs had been replaced but your brain remained intact. The neurons that controlled your bodily movements had been expertly attached and morphed with the wires that ran through the right side, the robotic side. Your thoughts were loud and clear that even if he tried not to he could still read them.

The conclusion?

You were not an immediate threat, but you could pose danger if you were to give in to your machine side. You carried the capacity for both great good and great evil. Your humanity was out of touch which is exactly what Crane wanted. The doors to his office slam open to reveal a pissed off Logan. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees you sitting there, for a moment you swear you saw his eyes. turn soft. But you blink and the softness is gone. Replaced by complete apathy.

“Look, I appreciate the rescue but I think it’s best if I leave.” You say while looking at Logan.

“If you want to leave, I will not stop you. But I believe you would do well here. This is a place to learn how to operate your new self safely. We’ll protect you, take care of you.” Charles offers.

The truth is he wants to keep you here so they can guide you to the right path. The fear is radiating off of you. He doesn’t have to be a mind reader to know that you’re afraid of becoming exactly what they wanted you to be. There’s one question swimming around in your mind, projecting itself to everyone who looks at you.

Are you human? Or are you a weapon? Can those people have truly stripped away your humanity, by taking your heart, your blood, your limbs?

If they were to find you again they could finish what they started. But if Charles could keep you here, he can help you find your humanity again, help you become yourself.

“I know what you fear and we can help. I promise.” Charles whispers.

“It might be too late.” You whisper back. Staring at your hands once again, watching yourself in the reflection of your metal hand.

“Nonsense my dear, you’re not the first person who’s come here with a past like yours.” Charles says while looking at Logan.

Logan shifts on his feet, there is guilt for sending you into panic but he doesn’t trust you fully yet. But if Charles does, he’ll at least stay out of your way.

“Give us a month, a month to guide you, to help you and I promise the team will do everything in our power to find the people who did this.” You think for a moment.

There’s so much of your life missing and there’s a desperate need to know growing inside of you. If he’s telling the truth, if he can really help you. Then you don’t have a choice.

“Deal.” Charles smiles and places a hand atop your metal one.

“Welcome to the X-Men.” 

[dear-kumari]

I originally started writing a longer version of this post and got bogged down in rambling tangents, so I wanted to try rewriting it today with a bit more structure. A lot of people have brought up great criticisms of this scene and the treatment of Bella generally, but there are a couple problems with it that weigh on my mind that I haven't really seen discussed: one, that this supposed revelation that Bella didn't marry Arthur "for love" doesn't really work, and two, that the evidence that she "didn't love" Arthur is incredibly flimsy.

To the first point, Arthur should already know that they didn't marry for love; they married because he accidentally got her pregnant, which was made explicit in part 31. He goes on about how Bella is kind and loves him, yes, but on the surface this is clearly a shotgun wedding that he sees as happening "because her father found out." This scene treats Daniel's statement as a turning point in the argument only because it's following the general cadence of a dramatic argument between two men over a dead woman, not because this would logically stop Arthur in his tracks. If anything, Arthur should've come out swinging with this point because he's resented Daniel's initial interference in his life all along.

The second point is, I think, where this crosses the line from one of Malevolent's classic barely-coherent arguments where the characters seem to switch motives and positions arbitrarily into something uniquely incompetent and, yes, lowkey misogynistic. As you can see above, it's actually Arthur, not Daniel, who jumps to the conclusion that Bella wasn't just forced into the marriage, but straight-up didn't love him; and the damning evidence that leads him to reevaluate of all of the kindness and affection she showed him as meaningless is — get this — that she criticized him, once, during the most stressful period of her life.

This is a blatant double standard because Arthur is the protagonist of Malevolent, a story about the homosocial love between two guys brought together by bad circumstances who are constantly harshly criticizing each other, and he is about to form another bond with the guy who is currently harshly criticizing him. Apparently, men's relationships with each other can be fraught with emotional complexity, but for an otherwise devoted girlfriend to complain about her disinterested lazy boyfriend is a shocking revelation of her false feelings. There could be no ulterior motive to it, either; the question of why Bella would've gone to her rich well-connected father about her unwanted pregnancy but apparently didn't want him to force her boyfriend's hand goes strangely unanswered, presumably bc any explicit reference to abortion would make the audience realize that Daniel's "convincing" was actually patriarchal coercion. The fact that she was denied any agency in the matter is brushed aside for the more important topic of how both men's negative feelings towards her marriage have finally been validated. From a strictly Watsonian perspective, you could reasonably read this whole exchange as cope and assume that they've incorrectly interpreted her feelings towards both of them, which were actually more nuanced and realistic — but of course, you'd be writing fix-it fanfic at that point.

On the topic of fixes, though, I wanted to conclude by proposing a better version of this scene — not bc I'm some great writer by comparison, but bc it's the easiest way for me to drive home just how strange and backwards it feels. I think this argument would've worked from a narrative perspective if Arthur had accused Daniel of forcing the marriage onto both of them and he shot back, "No, I told her not to marry you." As in, if Daniel had revealed the exact opposite: that Bella actually wanted the baby, the marriage, all of it, and was willing to make it work despite the bad timing and despite the men in her life wanting it all to go away. That would've been a subversion worthy of Arthur's shock and shame, a relatively respectful conclusion to Bella's story that preserves her agency (and gives her specific wants rather than a vague understanding of what she didn't want), and a thematically consistent writing choice.

See, the actual lesson Arthur should take away from confronting his past was planted two episodes prior by James From Boston: when Arthur drunkenly whines about how "wrong" his marriage feels, he responds, "You make it right. You work at it." This is kind of the point of Malevolent, no? Jorthur's bodily relationship is fundamentally Wrong in a way that is not dissimilar to a shotgun marriage, but they made it Right. Arthur could've just given up or escaped multiple times, but instead he put the work in and eventually discovered a loving partner in his demonic possession. This scene feels like it should've led to a bittersweet moment where he tells Daniel and John that he finally appreciates the labor and attention Bella put into their relationship and that she inspired him to never take his loved ones for granted again. What we got instead was some incoherent melodrama that only works if you imagine Arthur to be so stupid, selfish, and sexist that even years later he still needs it spelled out for him that yes, your wife who had to drop out and get a low-paying job while pregnant to support both of you probably resented you a bit for that; and, further, if the audience also buys into this idea that female partners are simple binary creatures who only love authentically if they love unconditionally. It's really bad you guys idk

[aziraphalianfangirl]

Reblogging to let any fans of good omens know that the tinhatters are still out there making content claiming David and Michael actually hate their children and families and are only with them "out of obligation" whilst having a secret torrid affair on the side.

This is one of the reasons I stepped away from the go fandom, plus what happened with neil, being almost cancelled and then learning we were only getting a 90 min episode. The horrible way with which people treated each other, calling horrible names to fellow fans just because they were disappointed, the creepy obsession and parasocial relationship with David and Michael, all of it.

And it all started with me happily scrolling through the good omens/David/Michael tag and coming across this blog's unhinged posts (along with many others) claiming David, his son, and Georgia's father loathed Georgia. Why you ask? Because she claimed they were sending a "secret message" with their facial expressions during a joke at a doctor who photoshoot. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP. At this point these people are erotomaniacs except instead of thinking the celebrity they don't know is in love with them and sending them messages, they believe they're sending them to another celebrity, his secret lover. (David and Michael)

There used to be a blog who dared to call out their shitty and toxic behaviour but unfortunately, as far as the fandom knows, that person passed away from cancer. That absolutely shook me and it was the last straw. It was too much heartbreak and I was never able to engage with the go fandom again.

If you don't want to see any creepy posts about Michael/David or unhinged posts talking shit about their loved ones Georgia and Anna, you can still visit dtmsrpfcringe and check out her block list. I strongly advise, for your own mental health, to just block these people and not engage. Maybe someday someone else will be brave enough/patient enough to call these people out but sometimes it's just not worth it for our mental health to engage with these people. They would literally send horrible anon hate and deny and gaslight their way into believing their delusions. They wouldn't answer any asks asking them for proof of their theories either. I do not believe these people want any help. They have a group of followers who also believe the "theory" and they use everything Michael and David do in public to justify that they are secretly gay, together and hate their current partners.

This might sound super dramatic and dumb but it absolutely ruined the fandom experience for me. I used to love seeing Georgia's and Anna's content, along with random David and Michael content but now every time I see it I just think about the mean spirited and creepy posts some people are using them for.

Also, they use RPF as justification for their behaviour

I am not a personal fan of rpf but I follow the "don't like, don't read rule". Rpf is a sub genre of fanfiction using real people's names and descriptions (actors, musicians, celebrities, etc) instead of fictional characters.

What rpf is NOT: obsessively stalking an actor's family, friends, routine, whereabouts, and making up rumours about their real life claiming them as TRUTH.

These people are not making up RPF stories about Michael and David, which can be clearly labelled as such on ao3 and therefore be recognised as fanfiction. They are making up stories about them and claiming them to be true, using extensive footage, photos and blind items (a gossip blog with no sources) as evidence.

I literally cannot do this anymore. I have these blogs blocked but the other day they showed up as a reblog as I was scrolling Tumblr. It was an absolutely creepy and uncomfortable comment under GIFs of David describing Michael in an interview, joking about wanting to be a Vet Detective and Michael being an old dog he would put down. THEY USE THIS AS IRREFUTABLE EVIDENCE THAT THESE MEN ARE FUCKING AND TREAT ANYONE WHO DISAGREES OR POINTS OUT THE CREEPINESS AS BULLIES ATTACKING THEM!

They have pinned posts on their blogs claiming to be victims of anon hate and bullying while we all watched as the only blog that was created to call them out received disgusting and horrible anon hate.

If they got them or not I don't know, but I know damn well they sent a lot of it.

I'm sorry for rambling but I just want any of my followers to know about this and for the sake of your mental health stay away

Amy, (aka ingravinoveritas) I am going to say this as kindly as possible. And please, please, please read all of this before you block me. David and Georgia have been together for 16 years. They are a couple who trust each other, and more importantly, they are best friends. I have no idea if you've ever been in a relationship before, but there are some relationships who love to tease each other with dry, dark humor. because thats what some friends do. My parents included. its actually what I love most about them, and they've been together for nearly 25 years now. its what me and my close close friends do as well. It all comes down to trust. kind of like a "hey! only my partner can say that about me!" type of thing. it works for some people, and for other people, not so much. and thats okay! Not everyone has to have the same love language! however, you do not get to dictate what type of love language is best for David and Georgia just because it doesn't match your ideas of what a healthy relationship looks like. there are several types of healthy relationships that come in all shapes and sizes.

I also have no idea what your nationality is, but British humor is a LOT dryer than American humor.

There is nothing off about David "looking into the distance" as he gets his makeup done, or when he looks out a goddamn window for christ's sake. You do not know this man. I know you wish you did, hell, I wish I did too, but you don't. You don't get to decide what feels "off" about the way he acts, because he is not the Doctor. he is not his character on Staged. he is not Crowley.

He is a regular human being who you've only met at a stage door and watched on television.

also, Georgia gets to post whatever the hell she wants on her story because at the end of the day, its HER story. shes allowed to be excited for free skincare. I know I'd be! she's allowed to post black and white photos of David. you complain when she doesn't mention David on her story, and then you find something to complain about when she does. so don't come on here with "I dont wish for them to be miserable" because you pray to god every day that David is in an unhealthy relationship with Georgia and that he's sleeping with Michael on the side.

also, stop calling him a gigolo. For everyone's sake.

(just wanted to post this pic cuz shes so fucking pretty 🥰)

[bitchfitch]

I had a shrink appointment today and while I could not see it I knew my doc was going through the five stages of grief while I explained my fool proof strategy for doing my t shots despite a crippling fear of needles: By abusing my vastly more crippling fear of being an inconvenience.

My mother and I play phasmophobia together every week. she usually has a pretty limited time to do this bc she's like. a doctor and a college professor whos always busy. So I asked her to just. hold me to doing them. We don't start playing until the shot is done. so my needle fear doesn't matter because now it's Wasting™ her time and I have to do it quick. Using one neurosis to defeat another.

It's a horrible coping mechanism because it's feeding the inconvenience fear, but it is definitionally a coping mechanism.

[puppppppppy]

i wrote this as a joke because I wanted to strangle a guy watching tiktoks without headphones on the bus, but im genuinely disturbed that we've gotten to a point where convenience comes first. and it depresses me even more that its used to justify and monetize greed

[gatheringbones]

[“When we are possessed by the self-hater in any form, what we think, and do is not spontaneous and free but preset in predictable patterns. We know those patterns and respond to them, for the most part, as predictably as the mesh of gears in a well-maintained transmission. John offends Joan, so she runs out of the meeting and Jean follows to placate her hurt feelings. Jean will not criticize John directly but complains about him to Joe. Joe agrees with Jean and then tells John that Jean doesn't like him. And so it goes.

As we identify patterns of oppression, we can refuse to perpetuate them. Groups often come to grief with the King of Victims. We want to be nurturing, but find more and more of the group's time and energy taken up with one person's problems. The person seems to use the group to confirm her or his stuckness. The group can never do enough, and when people express resentment or boredom, they simply reinforce the person's King Victim stance. Pointing this dynamic out does no good at all. We may be accused of blaming the victim, or may find ourselves speaking in the voice of the Judge.

Anne Cameron, in her novel Daughters of Copper Woman, tells the story of a women's society among the Indians of Canada's Northwest Coast. If a woman came to the group with a problem, others would listen, offer advice and help. If she came back again, they would listen a second and a third time. But if she returned a fourth time with the same problem, and hadn't made changes, they would all get up, walk away, and sit down somewhere else.

Nonparticipating can be done verbally, and directly: “Joan, we talked about your problem last week and the week before. Now I feel it's draining my energy, and I don't want to talk about it anymore until you've done something about it.'

Such tactics may provoke attack, expressions of hurt, or defensiveness. Joan may stomp or flounce out of the room. The temptation may be strong to follow, to try to bring her back and offer comfort. Resist the temptation, for conflicts will not be resolved by allowing one person to manipulate the group. I used to be a flouncer myself, resorting to the tactic not to when the tactic became ineffective. One night at a meeting of my as a way of dramatizing the intense hurt I was feeling. I learned quickly affinity group, we were arguing about who could come to a particular I ritual. I was intent on bringing my then-current lover whom the rest of the group didn't like. (Not without reason.) I ran out of the room in tears and my closest friend Rose followed, not, as I expected, to comfort me and let me cry on her shoulder, but to scream at me, “Get back in there, you bitch! How dare you walk out just because you aren't getting your way!" I remember feeling quite surprised. It had never occurred to me that my desperation could be interpreted as manipulation, and yet manipulation it was. I came back, and haven't tried the great walkout since.

I suggest as a rule of thumb for surviving the dynamics of a group never to walk out in the middle of a fight (unless you are about to inflict or suffer physical damage). Never follow someone else out or try to coax anyone back. The worst that can happen is that the person will not return. If she or he is gone for good, perhaps the time or the chemistry simply was not right. And the group may be relieved of a draining problem.

This advice may sound cold, but sometimes people need to deeply experience the loneliness of King Victim before they are ready to face the painful task of giving it up. A group that expresses support when members actually feel used and resentful creates an illusion of connection that holds back the process of change.

Current thinking in some circles is that there are no problem individuals in groups, only problem dynamics, that getting rid of one person only means that someone else will become the scapegoat. I have not found this to be true, except in that so many of us automatically play scapegoat, that often when one leaves a group another jumps into place. A group that is willing to play car to King Victim will usually find someone to take ad- vantage of its sympathy. But when a group stops allowing itself to be manipulated, the difficult person will either change or leave. Groups may carry on after a leave-taking with renewed energy, vitality, and humor.

We can also refuse to collude in manipulation or avoidance of conflict. Joe can tell Jean, “Don't bitch to me— tell John what you're feeling." Or, “Hey, Joe's my friend too. Anything you say to me about him, I'll probably repeat to him." We can encourage people to bring conflicts directly to the individual involved, or to the group, and offer our support. “Look, if you feel afraid to face John, let's go to him together. Or let's find someone else to mediate.”

Identifying other people's delusions and false value for them places us in the position of Judge. We cannot do it supportively. We can, however, ask questions.

Questions leave us open to mystery and surprise. When we ask a question, we want a deeper knowledge or understanding of a person. We test our assumptions instead of leaping to conclusions about others' motivations and meanings.

In the grip of the self-hater, we communicate in a cryptic code, patterned and predictable. We respond not to what's actually happening, but to what the self- hater whispers. We use words as screens, to keep others from seeing and knowing too much. And when we encounter the barriers others put up, we tend to politely back away. We don't ask ourselves, “Do I really understand what Jane means? Does what she say match what I intuit she is feeling?"

Jane is sitting huddled in a corner of the room, silent and withdrawn. Everyone can feel the misery she radiates.

“What’s wrong?” Susan asks.

Inside Jane's head, the self- hater is whispering," Everyone else is going to the hot tub afterwards when you have to work. They don't care about you or your problems. Nobody does. But that's okay, don't say anything about it. Don't spoil their good time."

“Nothing,” she replies.

The group can accept her answer and go about their business, knowing full well she is unhappy. They will thus confirm her self- hater's basic premise: that nobody cares about her. Over time, some of them may begin to resent her silence and depression, and may truly not want to have her around, further confirming her self-hater's evaluation.

They can attack: “Goddamn it, don't lie there like a dying squid— tell us what's wrong!" This approach will not augment her self-esteem, nor deepen the group's bonding.

Or, they can refuse to be stopped by the barrier of her answer, and test their perceptions.

"That's odd," Susan might say. “I thought you looked unhappy. Are you unhappy about something?"

Embedded in Susan's question is a supportive statement: “I care enough about you to notice how you are feeling, and to be concerned." Her question has itself challenged the self-hater.

The group might have to go through several rounds of specific questions: “How are you feeling?" “Have we hurt you somehow?" They are also entitled to give up, if Jane is determined to cling to her unhappiness in private. Their questions will, nonetheless, have posed to Jane an alternative to the self-hater's version of reality.

"It's nothing," Jane finally says. “I guess I always feel left out when the group makes plans and I have to work."

The group might respond defensively, as if Jane had attacked them. “We can't run our lives around your work schedule." Or they might react apologetically: “I'm sorry— I guess we weren't sensitive. Let's not go out if Jane can’t go." Either response will convince her that she was a fool to open her mouth.

A more empowering response would be to ask the question, “What can we do? How can we make it better?" The question implies,"We care about you— we want you to be happy.” The group might come up with suggestions, but they do not rescue her. For the responsibility of naming what we need is itself empowering: it implies that we have the power to know what we want, ask for it, and get it. The question takes Jane out of the role of passive victim and challenges her to take an active role in securing her own happiness.

In counseling, I would find myself asking, over and over again, “What do you mean by that?”

“None of my lovers stay with me,” a client might say. “They all say I’m too intense.”

From the tone in her voice and the expression on her face, I sense that she finds this evaluation somewhat flattering.

"What do you mean by ‘intense?’” I ask.

"Oh, you know— intense."

"But I don't know," I say, because I suspect that what she means is something she does not want to admit. “Do you mean angry? Needy? Do you want too much sex?"

To answer my question, she must let go of the false specialness offered by the self- hater, and consider her real feelings. If she can take that risk, and find one place in which her rage, her need, her passion can be valued, she can never again be quite so isolated.

Feelings, perceptions, decisions, and actions are often tangled together like embroidery threads. We may translate an emotion into a decision, which seems to relieve the pain of feeling. When others respond to the decision, the emotion gets buried or ignored, and we end up feeling worse. Asking the right questions can sometimes help separate the strands.

I have asked my mother, who lives in another city but who co-owns our collective house, to apply with us for a new loan at a lower interest rate, and she has agreed. She calls me up late at night, angry.

"I'm not going to fill out this form!" she announces. “It's an imposition on me. The print is too small— I can't see it! I'm not going to do it!"

Once I would have taken her statement at face value, gotten angry, and we would have had a rousing fight. But I have learned, instead, to ask a simple question.

"How can I help you?" I say. I know my mother well enough to intuit her internal dialogue, which I suspect went something like this: “I want to fill out this damn form— my eyes are bad and I feel helpless— nobody's around to help me. I'm angry that I don't have help! I'm not going to do this!”

Asking “How can I help you?" cuts into the middle of the chain, countering the self hater's message that no one can or will help I follow up by actually providing help and explanations of aspects of the form that are confusing. My mother feels cared for and loved, instead of used and put-upon, and together we are able to complete the form without problems.

Under the domination of the self-hater's messages, we act in ways that cause responses that confirm the self-hater's premises. When we do not believe that help is possible for us, we react to the pain of helplessness by screaming loudly, “I'm not going to help you!" Rarely are others sensitive enough to hear the underlying cry, “Help me!"

QUESTIONS TO CHALLENGE FALSE GLORY

Certain questions are particularly useful in challenging the delusions of power-over. Here is a short list:

1. What are you (we all) feeling?

2. What does (word) mean to you?

3. What do you need? What do you want?

4. What can we do? How can we help you?”]

starhawk, from truth or dare: encounters with power, authority, and mystery, 1987

[moiraimyths]

Before we call anon rude because let’s see it from their perspective, imagine getting an entire feast to eat. That can be pretty hard to start with so much that’s going on, but if they start with one thing they know they’ll like (aka one character they like) that can be the start for them leaping to other characters to finish the story and the bigger story. I struggle the same way to start book series if I don’t have at least one character that drives me to read it, it’s all about what can be the hook to push them through. Sounds like the anon is neurodivergent (just a guess) so they might genuinely not see it as rude and see it as a solution to even play the game to start with.

Btw absolutely adore the game, the complex and rich characters making them all so unique is amazing. The art is so pleasing to the eyes I love it!! I’m waiting for it all to get out at once so I don’t get too impatient. Shae however interests me the most, which routes will have the most lore for them? Will there be routes that give more lore in general based on decisions you make or do they all share the same amount? (I mean general lore not just Shae lore)

Apologies; we are not trying to accuse any asker of being rude! We are simply explaining our perspective as the developers / are trying to broadly encourage folks to dip their toes into other areas of the story outside of the main route(s) they're interested in, especially considering some routes will be made available sooner than others, and these other routes will likely contain additional scenes/lore of everyone's fave(s) regardless! We want to give each main cast member an equal amount of love (and lore) regardless of their overall popularity, so our goal is not to tut-tut anyone for having strong preferences for one character over the others, but rather to explain that you may be surprised by how much *more* you learn about your preferred characters in the other routes. That's all!

For Shae... Well, they were a foot soldier for one of the worst periods of the War. Lore wise, any other story that touches on the War will likely have content relevant to them and their experiences. ^^

[fictionadventurer]

"If the structure of your world ever evaporates, I will still be here."

I think The Q might contain one of the greatest declarations of friendship/love ever.

[doverstar]

every year around this time I rewatch Julie and the Phantoms, and every year I am reminded how much heart this little tween show about grief and hope has

[moomimob]

do you ever see a take so bad and shocking you just kinda stare at it in disgust for a little before blocking and moving on

[lisxdumbr]

The whole "if a person is mad at you it's their responsibility to tell you" thing just made me realize how fucked my situation is. Like just. woah

[thatgirlonstage]

Yeah yeah “show don’t tell” get mis-explained and misinterpreted as writing advice a lot and yeah sometimes you SHOULD be telling the reader things however I am unwilling to discard this particular phrase given the number of stories I have encountered that make me want to slap the author across the face with it