#but he was also similar to vale (vale even said “he is like me but... the newer model”).

[myanmardoesnotexist]

You want to know what else drives me mad about Rosquez?

The way everything with Marc and Vale seemed just to be total parallels.

Both child prodigies

Both Moto3 and Moto2 champions

Both came into MotoGP young (20 and 21)

Both successful very fast (Marc championship in first year, Vale by second)

Both had long stretches of dominance, often called their era

Both gathered massive, devoted fanbases

Both know for rather intense rivalries

Both criticized heavily closesly linked to a lack of respect (Vale for how he handles his rivals/ the mind games and Marc for the way he rides)

Both seen as showmen

Both highly intense and competitive to a frightening extent

Both experienced a lull in their career due to somthing going wrong (Vale leaving Yamaha and Marc’s injury)

Both came back from said lull and started fighting for wins again

Both on top teams even after said lull

Now both have been Ducati riders and possibly if this year goes well for Marc, both are 9x world champions. Not saying it will happen, but the story would be storying if it does

Oh and that isn’t even the full list. They have so many similarities it is almost mad to think because they are also sooooo incredibly different! Those philosophies around life, the way they view racing, their relationship with people in general, their generations, their riding styles, their attitude when facing defeat, their popularity in the paddock.

And then they were something like friends! And Vale was being worshipped by what is basically the next generations him! And he likes the kid! And Marc is just thrilled about it! And then Vale finds out how similar Marc is to him and that just makes it better! And he can’t help but talk to Marc about everything! And then 2015 happens and everything goes south because yes Marc is like him, but it has smacked him in the face how different they are.

And even now, their reactions to what happened are so different. Vale holds on to that anger, he doubles down, he lets it hurt him and refuses to forget. Then there is Marc, who smiles and jokes, who brushes of questions and says it is not him who has issues. So wildly different. But so vulnerable and obvious and similar at the same time. Because they both just care so deeply it is insane.

Rosquez just kills me man. Kills me.

[squgs]

I've seen people responding to it being pointed out that Daemon is so obviously a worse person than Alicent or Criston by saying that "at least he isn't a hypocrite" or "at least he doesn't pretend he's better than he is." Which is perhaps accurate, but is really just saying "at least Daemon doesn't make any attempt to be a good person or voice any desire to be better."

This leads me to something I've been noticing: none of the team black characters voice or show any regret for their misdeeds while team green characters do so constantly. Daemon never apologizes or show any regret for any of the brutally evil things he does. Alicent on the other hand is constantly looking apologetic and regretful, even when she didn't do anything like in the case of Larys killing his family.

After the eye incident Alicent is extremely regretful and apologetic for her actions while Rhaenyra isn't at all. In fact Rhaenyra's response is to seek out more power through marrying Daemon so that she can more effectively hurt anyone who states an obvious truth. Her children similarly show no regret for escalating that fight, nor seem at all apologetic for having permanently disfigured Aemond.

The comparison is most striking between Criston and Daemon who have semi similar misbehavior that only Criston acknowledges in any way as bad. First in episode 5 they both smash someone's face in. Daemon's is clearly premeditated and his entire reason for being in the vale, while Criston's was planned at most ten minutes before it was carried out and was a response to an assumed attempt to blackmail him. Daemon has absolutely no shame about the murder, even going so far as to try to claim his victim's inheritance. Criston on the other hand is so ashamed that he tries to kill himself. They both also have incidents of misogynistic language. Criston calls Rhaenyra a cunt once and promptly apologizes. Daemon refers to his first wife as a 'bronze bitch' more than he uses her name and calls Alicent a whore. He does not apologize for any of those instances or show any indication that he doesn't think those are appropriate things to call a woman. Finally in episodes 8 and 9 Criston and Daemon each attack a man from behind after he insults their wife. Neither is their best moment, but again Criston is pretty clearly regretful of it, and it seems like he didn't mean to kill Beesbury and that he just forgot how fragile old people are. Daemon on the other hand clearly intended to murder Vaemond and was happy to quip about it and then chuckle when he's mentioned again.

The one sort of exception to this is Rhaenyra's toast to Alicent in episode 8. She does apologize in that scene. However, she isn't apologizing for mistreating Alicent. All she is apologizing for is not helping to take care of Viserys and not acknowledging her care taking previously, which like it definitely means something that she said that, but implicit in what she says is the idea that it's Alicent's role and duty to be taking care of him. There's kind of an implication that Rhaenyra views Alicent as having redeemed herself through serving Viserys when in reality her care taking is just another facet of Viserys's abuse, abuse that is never acknowledged or apologized for. Still I do love that scene and the way it is beautifully, pathetically, sad that Rhaenyra can only connect and forgive Alicent when she's in her subservient role and that Alicent is so desperate for connection with Rhaenyra that she will accept that barest hint of an apology even in the face of all the evidence that it's meaningless.

Now one would think that some characters regretting their misdeeds would be viewed as a sign of them being better people, but I think it actually has the opposite effect. Because the green characters are shown being regretful, their misdeeds are focused on and emphasized. In episode 5 it's possible to forget that Daemon killed his wife at the start of the episode, because it seems like he's forgotten as well. However it's impossible to forget what Criston does because his actions for the rest of the episode are all a reaction to his shame and horror about having just murdered someone. Then in the next episode when Criston has his one instance of misogyny, the entire show pauses to take note of it and wait for him to apologize (which he does!), but on the numerous occasions when Daemon is misogynistic the show breezes right past it, treating it as just a bad boy Daemon moment. Daemon's misdeeds can be enjoyed without an imediate reminder of how evil he is, letting him be a cool fun badass, while Criston's can't. You can't look at him awkwerdly and regretfully standing over Beesbury's body and say 'oh wow, such a badass male wife he really told Beesbury to keep his Wife's name out of his fucking mouth.' Though to be clear I also very much judge anyone who says that about Daemon killing Vaemond.

This is seen again in the eye incident. For most of the audience that goes into the incident not thinking that Rhaenyra is a significantly worse person than Alicent (a reasonable assumption), Alicent being extremely regretful afterwards while Rhaenyra isn't at all, is an indication that Alicent acted far worse than Rhaenyra did. A misreading that is helped by Rhaenyra's call for violence being couched in the 'sharply questioned' euphemism while Alicent's is stated outright. That is perhaps Alicent's most badass scene where she does her best to stand up to her abuser and those who allow that abuse in defense of their children, going so far as to physically fight back (though Rhaenyra perhaps wasn't the best choice of target), but the audience doesn't have any encouragement to see her badassery, instead we're to wallow in her shame at having fought back and watch her shrink back into herself with the implication that that's what she should be doing.

This pattern shows a fascinating tension between the events portrayed in the show and their framing. The show gives us two groups of people who range from very flawed to evil, but they are framed as a group of heroes and a group of villains. The greens are villains and their actions can only confirm that, while the blacks are heroes and their actions no matter how violent can only provide more evidence of heroism. I don't know how much actual meaning can be made from that tension, I wouldn't even be surprised if it was entirely accidental, but it is at the very least interesting enough to note.

[howlingday]

Jaune, the half giant barbarian is sent to "Guard" the "prisoner". said prisoner has a crisis because they absolutely refuse to fall to the wildmans charms, its a matter of principle!! behind her we see master scribe ren in the cell, resolving to climb three quarters giant nora like a tree

Took me a while, but I had to find this post since it reminded me so much of this ask.

Also, I think this post is similar to this ask.

-------------------------------------------------------

In the mountains between the Kingdoms of Vale and Vacuo lies a city much larger than any seen before. Those traveling by land must pass through this city to reach the other side for safety. The Grimm who prowl the outskirts are hardy beasts, some capable of snapping up convoys whole with one bite. For this reason, the people of the city rely on the stewardship of the mountain-folk, also known as...

GIANTS

"Let me out of here!" The bars rattled. "Let me out at once! Do you know who I am?!"

"You are Weiss Schnee, daughter of Jacques Schnee, Chief Executive Officer of the Schnee Dust Company." The thin man replied. "You were caught trespassing into Titania and are now awaiting trial."

"You missed the part where I denounced my father and I'm trying to flee to Vacuo to get away from him."

"The Kingdom of Vacuo won't be kind to you." He turned away. "You're paler than I am, and I get a bad sunburn without stepping foot there."

"I don't care if I get sunburnt!" Weiss called back. "It could never compare to the idea of being under the same roof as him!"

"You say that now, but you haven't been sunburnt yet either." He scribbled on a clipboard. "We've already contacted the Kingdom of Atlas for guidance. A response team will arrive shortly to handle your affairs."

"They're coming here?!" Weiss popped her head through the bars. It was at this point she realized how big the gap really was. She could easily escape if she could just...

"UUUHN~?" A booming groan caught here attention. Looking up, she saw two statues glaring down at her... except these statues blinked at her. The one on left was the shorter of the two, grinning wide with teeth the size of her fist. There was a manic glee in its sky-blue eyes, as if it were begging for Weiss to escape.

"OOOGH." The responding groan came from the right, where the much taller figure of the two watched her. Its pillar-like finger was pressed to its lips, which must have been as wide as a coffee table. The gaze from its darker-blue eyes were more intelligent, as if it were studying her. If she were forced to fight one of the two, this one she was less likely to engage. She slipped back into the bars, and the giants returned to their seated positions.

"These are not giants." The man explained. "They are the children of giants." He gestured to the taller one. "He is the son of a giant, making him a half-giant. While she," he gestured to the other, whose face was tinged pink at his gesture, "is the daughter of a half-giant and a giant, making her three-quarters-giant."

Weiss blinked. "But she's shorter than him."

"Giants are a masculine race, meaning that while the men are much taller than the women, their muscles are more spread than their fairer counterparts. Jaune is a powerful warrior, but Nora could easily overpower him."

"REEEN~!" Nora bellowed. There was a blush on the man's face.

"Beyond this prison are the true giants, whose size and strength are what the legends tell of. If you value your life, you will wait here until your trial and then wait for the Atlas liaisons to arrive."

"And what if I choose to fight my way out?" Weiss growled.

"You are welcome to try, but-" Before Ren could finish, there was an earthquake that shook Weiss off her feet. Ren, however, remained standing, even while a massive greathammer, the size of a one-plane hangar, buried itself into the ground. At the end of the hammer was the furious face of Nora, teeth grit in indignation. Weiss shivered at such rage. "I wouldn't recommend it." He looked to his clipboard. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other duties to attend to."

With that, he turned to the exit, Nora's hammer lifting from the ground and out of his way. She huffed, her large nostrils flaring like industrial vents. Weiss looked to Jaune, who was still staring at her, and noticed the massive sword close to him. She gulped at him.

"JAAAUNE." Nora bellowed. He looked to her. "BOOOR DUUUN VAAAR."

"OOOBOOOR NOOORAAA." Jaune covered his face with his massive palm. "TOOOR VEEEN SHAAAL."

Nora looked to Weiss, then to Jaune. She belted a thunderous laugh at him. His other hand pounded the floor, making Weiss unsteady. She caught herself on the bars, listening as the two continued to speak in Giant. It was an old language, as old as the world itself, and one she didn't know how to speak.

"Do either of you speak Common Valian?" The two giant-kin looked to her, then looked to each other.

"ME." Jaune placed a hand to his chest. "NOT GOOD."

"Good." She sighed. "Please, I need to escape! My father cannot be allowed to collect me! If he does-"

"STOP." Jaune held out his hand, and it almost felt like a gust wind pushed against her. "TOO..." He paused. "FAST."

"Oh..." Weiss pursed her lips, blushing a bit. "I... go! Else... Dad... Take me!"

"DAD. BAD?" At this, Weiss' eyes lit up.

"Yes! Yes! Very bad! Very, very bad!"

Jaune looked to Nora. "DAD..." Jaune clenched his fist, flaring his nostrils. "GOOOM DOOOR SHUUUN."

Nora looked to Jaune, narrowing her eyes, then looked to Weiss. She then looked to Jaune with a grin. "BOOOR DUUUN VAAAL~!" He clenched his fist again. He was about to pound the ground again.

"WAIT!" Weiss called to Jaune. He looked to her. "Me... Help... Uh..." She looked to Nora. "Her... With... Ren!" At this, Nora rolled to in front of the cage, the anger in her eyes revitalized tenfold. Weiss looked to Jaune for help.

"NOOORAAA. YUUUN NOOOR REEEN."

Nora looked to Jaune. "NOOO?" Weiss heart sunk as she dismissed the request. Weiss really was trapped here, and she could almost cry about it.

"SHE." Jaune said to Weiss. "WANT. HOW."

"How?" Weiss blinked. "Uh, well, um..." Nora scowled at Weiss. Nora was much larger than her, but looking past the size, Weiss could see a girl's attire to her. If this was what giants liked, then it must be cute, right? "Uh... Help. Clothes?" Weiss offered.

"NOOOR VEEEN." Jaune translated.

Nora sat up, looking at her clothes. She then got angry, growling. "NOOORAAA VEEEN POOON."

"CLOTHES FINE." Jaune said.

"Okay, uh..." Weiss pursed her lips, looking over Nora. Her hands were rough and calloused, likely from being her experience as a guard. Maybe something with her hands? "Maybe... Help... Hands?"

"NOOR KROOOSH?"

"NOOORAAA KROOOSH POOON." She snorted. She splayed her fingers at the bar. "JAAAM KOOOR?"

"HANDS FINE." Jaune translated, gulping. "UNLESS WANT SEE."

This was getting worse and worse. If Weiss flubbed up the negotiations one more time, she would have to see her father, unless of course Nora decided to present his daughter to him in a fine paste before that. She was helping Nora with Ren, but how? What would she be able to help her with.

"Nora..." Weiss gulped. "Nora... Nora..."

"NOOORAAA NOOO RAAAA."

"WAIT! NONONONO!" Weiss was two seconds from becoming a Weiss-cake, so she covered her head.

"NOOO RAAA NOOO?" Nora asked.

"Huh?" She looked to Jaune, who looked just as confused as Weiss.

"HOW TALK HOW?" He repeated.

"Oh, uh... I could... teach you... Valian Common!" She looked to Jaune, who was still trying to catch up. She sighed then tried again. "Me. Help. Talk... Me!"

"TEEEM NOOOR RAAA TEEEM."

"Talk... Like... Ren!"

"RAAA HOOOB REEEN."

Nora was quiet for a moment, then nodded. Okay, the hard part was over. Now she just had to teach a three-quarters-giant the intricacies of speaking Valian Common. Great.

"NOOO RAAA EEEM?" Nora asked.

Jaune blushed. "HOW... TALK..." He grunted. "HOW... TALK... BED... STUFF."

Bed stuff? It didn't take long to click together 'bed stuff,' 'blushing,' and 'Ren'. "Uh... Sex?" Jaune nodded. Weiss could teach Nora how to say something as crass, or she could be squashed like a pancake. The choice was hers. Unless...

"Better!"

Jaune blinked. "HOOODOOOR?"

"HOOODOOOR NOOO?"

"Say... good... about... Ren! You like!"

Jaune nodded. "IIISHOOOR REEEN."

Nora was quiet for a moment. Was she thinking of something nice to say about Ren, or was she thinking of how she could get away with the murder of the former heiress? She nodded before speaking. "REEEN SKOOO."

"REN SMALL." Jaune translated. "LIKE JORMUNGANDR."

Ah, yes. Jormungandr, the tiny snakes outside the city the size of freight trains. Of course. How else would these monsters be described if not by their clearly smaller size. Wonderful.

"So, something like he's cute?"

"REEEN SKOOO." Jaune translated back. Nora got angry again, judging by her flaring vent nostrils.

"Okay..." Weiss took a deep breath. "REN. KYOOT."

"REEEN. KOOOT." Jaune snickered at Nora, earning a smack from her. It knocked the wind out of him, boding well for Weiss' soon-to-be-flat form.

"REN."

"REEEN."

"REN."

"REEN."

"REN."

"REN."

Weiss nodded. "REN. KYOOT."

"REN. K... KR... KL... KYOOT."

"REN. KYOOT." Weiss repeated, eyes gleaming with excitement.

"REN! KYOOT!" Nora cheered.

"What's going on in here?" Ren asked on return.

"REN! KYOOT!" Nora cheered. He blushed.

"Uh, Nora... I don't think you understand what- WHOA!" She scooped him into her arms, pulling him into her chest. "N-Nora!"

"REN! KYOOT!" She rolled around, leaving him helpless in her grasp. "REN! KYOOT! REN KYOOT!"

"NOOORAAA! EEEMAAA!" Ren shouted.

The room fell silent as everyone stared at the couple. Ren pulled himself free, blushing. He huffed. "NOOORAAA EEEMAAA. GOOONB EEEMAAA. REEEN JAAAM NOOORAAA." He sighed, gesturing to himself. "REEEN SKOOO. REEEN GOOONB SKOOO. NOOORAAA RAAAG."

Weiss had no idea what was going on. Jaune held his fingers to his lips in surprise, his face red as a tomato. Nora was also red, her eyes shining with tears. Ren stood silent; his gaze fixed to the floor. It wasn't until Nora laid down, her nose pushing his back. He turned to her.

"REEEN OOOM SKOOO." He turned to her, and his chest was suddenly pushed by her nose until he was flat on the floor. "REN KYOOT." She pushed her lips to his face, smothering him. She pulled away, leaving a drenched Ren laying there. As he stood up, he shivered.

"NOOORA." He faced her. "EEEMAAA~."

Faster than Weiss could track, Ren moved, tackling Nora and toppling her over. She could hear the sounds of smooches be pelted over Nora as she giggled and writhed at his affection. Weiss held a hand to her head, blocking her view of the kissing couple.

The door came open, a large finger curling it ajar. Weiss stepped out, looking to the very, very large man. He smiled at her and offered his hand to her.

"Um... No, thank you." She held up both hands. She walked towards the exit, only for her to be picked up by those same large hands. "Hey! Let go of- Mm!"

"Shh!" Jaune hushed. "No noise."

Pushing open a door with one hand, the half-giant man and Weiss left the cell, leaving the three-quarters-giant woman and her human beau alone to share their love with one another. Shutting the door behind them, Weiss was grateful to be out of her father's grasp but concerned about where this much larger man's grip were guiding her to. Speaking of...

"Ahem!"

Jaune looked down, noticing his hand was pressed against her breast. Blushing, he set her down and clenched his fist. Apparently, that was a thing he did when he felt stressed. Weiss was glad to be freed before his hand had the chance to do the same around her torso. No longer a pancake, but a ketchup bottle. Now she was starting to get hungry.

What luck that they'd arrive passing a mess hall at such a time.

[moonshynecybin]

Do you think the ranch visit 2014 ended with like slightly annoyed sex because Vale just annoyed with Marc beating his record but also slightly admiring him

i love this because its true. marc is ANNOYING ! of course it cannot be ignored that vale is ALSO annoying (max biaggi fight. hello.) like they match each others freak in that regard, but at what point do you look at this sexy ass twink who is obsessed with your dick and your bike (sex to vale. is motorcycle racing lest we forget he keeps that m1 in GROPING distance and marc is like GOD i wish that were me so it does. work comma sexually. for them. like a lot. but i digress) and obsessed with your ability to ride it and be like hmm. maybe this habit is NOT so cute. when beforeeee you thought hey hes just like MEEEEE and got HORNY about it. well obviously if youre vale it is when he doesnt let you win at your own goddamn track at your own goddamn house in front of your own goddamn brother and various peers. that shit is irritating. which i do think marc realizes now, but is also largely unrepentant about because he's hilarious. free my girl he did all that but it was funny. our marc not famous for his wealth of tact and restraint on the track. and vale is thirty six staring down one last chance to maybe win his tenth. and earlier that week when he beat marc at that karting event he said finally somewhere you dont win. so yeah when marc doesnt roll over and let him get the lap record that day in 2014 all of those endearing traits where they overlap and are similar. change. morph. arent so cute anymore. the light shifts. the music hits a minor chord. ominous. foreshadowing. chekov's gun carefully being placed on the wall. and suddenly. kind of a theme with them huh. vale hates him for all the things he learned from vale.

so. we are here to ask how that emotion translates to nasty sex. obviously. like all of these complex emotions do NOT mean that vale does not want to get his dick sucked lmao. like he's here he's thirsty marc's been in a tiny little titty huggin black tshirt all day its happenin. AND. it should be noted that in a very real sense this is their first sleepover. first time fr hanging out outside the paddock in a place where there is PRIVACY. no real REPORTERS. an actual locking DOOR. no way to hide from the fact that theyve been all over each other for like TWO YEARS now. AND multiple yamaha M1S that can be used as somewhat SEXUAL PROPS. (vale feeling also perhaps. emotionally complex here. a lil delicate. like YEAH i can invite my coworkers i like to hang at my track thats bro stuff but what about my years long situationship that —*static noises in vale's brain* like remember this is where MARC thinks things start to change between them...)

so yeah vale ends up like. amping up that competitive edge a little in bed. making this a fuckbuddy thing more than a RELATIONSHIP thing as much as he can in his head and with his hands and failing miserably and feeling even WEIRDER about that. so he's. i think he's working hard at putting marc where he wants him. hot hands a little rougher on the curve of marc's waist. cupping his ass making him gasp. sending him to his knees and making him suck his dick hot and nasty. teasing a little edging on the little feminine nicknames theyve never talked about but that make marc squirm and flush prettily. edging marc with three fingers in his ass while he whines for it. dragging it out. exerting a little control. not mean at all everyone is having fun (marc. out of his MIND.) just. excising some tension. its probably nothing hes just in his head. holding marc in his hands as he looks up at him. and marc trusting it. marc going. marc being just where vale wants him. just like he never does on the track. and marc thinks everything is fine when its happening thinks everything is AMAZING. but after that is when vale starts to go a little cold......

[ray935sworld]

"You know... For someone that is very insisting about people not judging your brother based on you, you are really judging me based on my brother."

May I just say it here? Please don't throw stones at me. That's a great quote. And since we're all a bit delusional at rpf (I think that our great leader of VR46 cult would be very proud of us for that), let me fantasize about it a little bit. I always thought it was interesting to show how Marc might also be a little hostile towards Luca, since he's, well, Vale's brother and can hurt him as well. But then they obviously get closer, probably even have a serious conversation (similar to their interaction in your wonderful child of divorce au) and Marc renounced his prejudice, probably not even realizing that he experienced it, until Luca points on it (Marc, I think, terribly upset when he realizes this).

Despite this, to be honest, sometimes when I see how big Marc's heart is, I think maybe he never had real hatred for Luca, probably because their relationship has always been different. Maybe they've always really understood each other's position in this crazy story and what role each of them got in this show (I don't think they both agree with this state of affairs).

In any case, it's so nice when their relationship is shown to be supportive and respectful, even compassionate. I love them for that. And well, Luca helps Vale see things, THANKS A LOT TO HIM FOR THAT. Without him, we would have died in madness many years ago.

I hope I didn't scare you with this sudden and huge ask, I don't know where it came from (maybe madness hehe?).

EVERYONE PLEASE LOOK AT THIS!!!!

THIS IS WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT! THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!

Honestly I can really see MArc getting extremly careful in terms of who he lets in. Like last person he trusted was the reason people attacked his parents. His brother. Yeah that man definitly got some trust issues from that. So he is very careful.

And I mean of course you wouldnt excactly welcome the brother of someone that talked THAT amount of crap. Seriously. Cause of course you think the brother is the first person standing at his side. Especially when we consider the close relationship between Alex and Marc. Marc who would stand by everything ALex does and say probably cant even imagine to turn on his brother and not agree and support whatever bs he is doing.

Maybe not even in a prejudice concious way but more in a subtle careful way which is why he needs a wake up call thats like "You dont trust Luca but he has literally never done anything or turn on you" which would made him stop and realize he had done the same to Luca (in a way) than so many had done to Alex. And I dont mean it in a mean way, like you said, Marc has a big heart so I think of it more as a natural safety think that his mind developed. Like "Everything Rossi related = bad = danger" and Luca got unjustified caught up in it.

And dont worry about it. I really enjoyed reading it and getting to think some more about it. I LOVE analysing character and behavior so that was fun! Sorry, took me a while to answer, brain wasnt really wroking at the time :)

[rooooooossssssse]

rampant & reckless speculation / psychoanalysis going on here so im throwing it under a cut lmao

but I’ve been watching a lottttt of footage of jorge & valentino's respective celebrations + post-race interviews for my dumb lil edits and im very surprised that i’ve kinda reversed my initial take on them (that they are two guys with the most INSANELY mismatched vibes ever) and i think you can understand a lot about each of them & their respective upbringings from the way they choose to celebrate their race wins

TO COMPARE, i recently read both jorge & casey’s biographies and i was surprised by how similar i also found the two of them to be? like they surprisingly struck me as very different flavors of the same type of guy. but now i think that’s more a case of ‘two guys who are fundamentally opposites but had similar formative childhood traumas��. versus jorge & valentino who i think are ‘two guys who are fundamentally THE SAME but were impacted by their childhoods in completely opposite ways’ lol

jorge grew up with a very domineering, strict father who was incredibly harsh on him, controlled a lot of different aspects of his life & constantly cut him down (all of this by his own admission) as a result, he has a sense of self-consciousness that makes him doubt & overthink almost everything he does. you can see this so clearly in his celebrations — like the fundamental idea he has is usually sound, but then he overchoreographs / bites off more than he can chew, and you end up with a race celebration that’s long & drawn out with a million technical difficulties that leaves everyone kinda like ‘uhhh…can you hurry it tf up???’

like the captain america celebration when he won at indy…he takes a needlessly long time getting to the fan club reps that are supposed to help him put his shield on. then he refuses to just call it when it takes an inordinate amount of time to get the shield attached to his arm (the commentators are soooo done w his ass here lol). THEN he tries to keep the shield on even tho it CLEARLY isn’t working until it just eventually falls off. incredibly confusing and anticlimactic celebration in execution. even tho it was a cute idea in theory!!

(also such a clear demonstration of his lack of confidence in comparison to valentino imo. like when valentino's broom breaks during his sweeping celebration he just rolls with it & dumps the broom. jorge SHOULD just do that with the shield, but he relies on the safety of his planning / choreography and doesn’t trust himself to just improvise in the moment)

valentino (GONNA BE REAL, a lot of this is PURE conjecture bc vale is not nearly as forthcoming about his upbringing / parents as jorge is) grew up with an emotionally distant father who seemed to kind of keep him at an arm’s length. graziano helped him a lot with his racing career, and was definitely a continued presence in his life post-divorce, but i mean — by both of their own admission, they never said ‘i love you’ to one another or even hugged that much until valentino was in his late 30s.

(there is also one brief magazine excerpt @inostripiloti translated on instagram from an interview graziano + valentino did together & they ask them about their lack of affectionate behavior w one another, saying ‘what would you say if the other was to say ‘i love you’ then?’ and apparently valentino says that he would tell graziano he loved him back. but graziano answers that if valentino ever said that to him he’d ask ‘are you feeling ok?’……which like. he could totally be joking, like the translation doesn’t account for tone, but……uh………..kinda giving logan roy ‘are u sick in the head or something’ 💀💀💀 sry graziano)

valentino says racing was sort of the only thing they connected on for most of his childhood and young adult life. i also think that when you hear valentino talk about him, he clearly thinks (or at least thought when he was younger) that graziano, in spite of his shortcomings & oddities, is/was pretty cool. i dont think it’s wild to assume then that he probably wanted to impress his father growing up. or, if not graziano, then i would imagine he would similarly want to impress the probably many father-like figures he was surrounded by once he started racing motorcycles. his celebrations all have sort of a more mature, slightly mean slant to them — even when he’s a kid (the blow up doll, drowning the promotional women w champagne, the dildo headband lmao)

and yeah a lot of that is honestly just normal teenage boy stuff. but at the same age jorge was uh — cosplaying as the Red Hot Chili Peppers & crafting a realistic mask of his main title rival’s face*. so……

i also find their respective relationships with their mothers to be kind of fascinating, in that they’re pretty much the exact inverse of one another

on the one hand, you have jorge who was forced to choose between his parents when they divorced, and though he greatly would have preferred to live with his mother, ended up picking his father for his career (also…….jorge says he was allowed to choose but uh……..considering Everything Else we know about chicho lorenzo, i am a bit skeptical of how much of “choice” this really was…also i mean how much can any child ever really “choose” in that situation, like it’s incredibly cruel). he clearly has a great amount of love for his mother though, and emphasizes how caring / nurturing she was when he was young in many different interviews

on the other hand, you have valentino who i don’t think was given the choice of which parent he was going to live with after their divorce (i could be wrong on that), but ended up living mostly with his mother. now this is again FULLY speculative, but i kind of get the sense that stefania may have parentified valentino a bit? BUT DISCLAIMER — i am mostly basing this off that one interview valentino gave where he talks about how he had to help stefania manage expenses & urge her to save money. it seems like he means he was doing that pretty young / recently after she and graziano divorced.

obviously one interview doesn’t really capture the nuances of someone’s relationship with their parent. and also i mean tbf that seems like kinda standard gen x / latchkey kid vibes stuff anyway (which i think valentino def was). this isn’t a knock on stefania, but i do think all of that (if true) could explain why valentino was so independent and self-possessed at a young age — mat oxley says that one of the first things that struck him about valentino is that as a teenager he would hang around in the media pen by himself just to talk to the journalists. he seems to have always had a very adult sense of self-assuredness from a pretty young age, and i wonder if that’s partly because he had to grow up a bit faster?

and then there’s also the main difference — that in spite of any issues he may have had in his home life, valentino has always had a very solid group of friends around him. like say what you want about uccio, but he is clearly one of the most loyal friends you could ever have. he’s stayed with valentino through thick & thin, through ups & downs, and at this point nothing is ever going to break that bond. i think that’s clearly why valentino is incredibly confident compared to someone like jorge — he did have some kind of a support system in place around him while he was growing up. by his own admission, jorge didn’t really have many close friends, or really any friends at all until he got a solid racing team around him in his late teens / early 20s

(…ofc you can also just easily boil it all down to: valentino was also very cool as a teen and jorge emphatically was NOT lmaoooooooo. i think again tho it’s not really an inherent coolness valentino has (his tastes tend to skew a little too silly and tacky imo to attribute his general ~aura to something innate) it’s more just that valentino was more mature, more independent, and WAYYY more well socialized than jorge ever was at that same age….what if i said valentino rossi coolness actually stolen valor…what then…)

ANYWAYYYYYYYY all of this to say — in spite of their differences, at their cores these are still just guys who LOVED to put on a little performance for their friends & family!!!! see: the MANY home movies teenage valentino made w his friends in tavullia—all on youtube!! (there’s one where they’re fucking BLASTING alanis morisette in the bg while they do their little motorsports crimes around town and i screammmeddd)—and 10 yr old jorge's adorable little sketch comedy routine you can find in his 2010 documentary…like!!!!! you know these bitches would have have ran an improv group like the fucking navy if they’d been allowed to get into sketch comedy instead of bikes rip

you can also see that jorge does have some of valentino's natural charm / wittiness as he gets older and more confident / settled in himself. he can be really fucking funny sometimes**!!!!! the post-assen 2015 presser obviously a highlight, but he’s also so funny and chill in his ducati days. you can see in that era valentino is like ‘huh you know i DO kinda like this guy’ when they’re chatting at pressers together.

its just…jorge’s charm and humor is buried under a mountain of self-doubt that makes him overcompensate constantly. and valentino is someone who thinks it’s the most embarrassing thing in the world to be caught trying too hard at anything***. so unfortunately for them (but fortunately for us): generational vibes mismatch for most of their careers together…EVEN THOUGH deep down…that’s twin

*the fact that no one ever got to see the dovi mask is so sick……..do u think jorge still has it somewhere in his unsettlingly large and empty house

**i mean intentionally funny here, as jorge is inarguably the most unintentionally funny person in motogp. did he want to almost drown when he jumped in that pond to celebrate his victory at jerez? no. but is the fact that he did by FAR the funniest thing anyone’s EVER done post-win? DUH. valentino wishes. osvaldo's chicken isn’t fucking TOUCHING near-accidental-drowning to the degree that a marshall needs to jump in and help you

(and then he FELL IN THAT SAME POND AGAIN THE VERY NEXT YEAR 😭 u rly can’t write this stuff he’s simply too good)

***even tho you could argue that valentino himself does also try VERY hard at a few things that are foundational to who he is as a person…but i’ve yapped enough here…….

[nightmare-foundation]

I'm thinking again about the take that the brother cult religion as seen in The Infinite Man (or similar to it) is a widespread/well known religion in modern Remnant.

And like... i do LIKE the idea of there still being a Brothers-based religion on Remnant. Fantasy religions are always fun, and it'd be fun to explore how that might effect Remnants societies.

But like. It's almost laughably false. It's a cool headcanon, and I like seeing it in AUs (I use it myself), but when talking about canon, it's just not true.

For one, there isn't any discussion of religion in any rwby material, at least nothing truly in-depth. None of the characters are ever stated to be religious in RWBY, and we also don't really get any hints of religion in the entire show? We never see any churches in Vale, Mistral, Atlas or Mantle, and the only thing I can think of that MIGHT be a church is the building in the v4 Ruby-focused short, though we never see the inside of it and it could just as easily be like, a town hall or something. Specifically, it has statues of 2 women in front of it, so if it IS a church, it doesn't appear to be Brothers-based.

Also in v4, Qrow states to RNJR that "Not many people are religious these days". I highly doubt that this line is untrue? First of all, Qrow has absolutely no reason to lie. Second, I doubt this is a case of Qrow being an unreliable narrator; even if he believed that all of the other religions were "fake", this would still be a very odd thing to say if religion is widespread?? It's like if you were talking to your friends and said "haha yeah not a lot of people are religious these days :)" which would obviously get you VERY weird looks. On top of that, none of RNJR ever seem to recognize what he's talking about. Qrow never says like, idk, "Do you know about [insert name for Brothers religion]? Yeah, they're real. In case you don't know the story- [insert convenient religion/lore dump for the audience]". At least, if i were writing RWBY and wanted to make it clear the Brothers were still being worshipped, that's how I'd write it.

Qrow does, obviously, phrase it like it WAS a religion- which is true. But it doesn't seem like it's like still a religion, and if it is, it's certainly not big anymore because religion on Remnant has slowly died out.

And about Fairytales of Remnant, it isn't a "propagandistic hit piece", it's a book of fairytales that Ozpin put into Beacons curriculum. I doubt a tale in a widespread religion (or religions) would be put in a book containing fairytales, at least not without public backlash. That'd be like if you put the story of Noah's Ark into a book containing things like Cinderella and Snow White. If Ozpin really wants to create a Light-based cult in the modern day, he wouldn't do that lmfao. (Though that would be a HYSTERICAL move on his part)

Also, the topic of the Brothers (and separately, them being real) is treated like it should be kept secret. Ozpin never told the Inner Circle about his task either- they follow HIM, not Light, and the Gods aren't really treated as important by anyone. The Relics are more important, both before and after the reveal in v6.

And in general, there's nowhere in RWBY on Remnant that shows that it's main religion is a doomsday cult. If it was as widespread as Christianity is in the modern day, that would SHOW. And people on Remnant seem very against controlling religions and doctrine like these, both The Infinite Man and the Great War showing this. Oz's biggest achievement up until that point... was creating a TOWN dedicated to his task. A freaking town. Where peoples main desire was to learn how to defend themselves and the people they cared about, which was promptly destroyed by people who HATED the idea of a doomsday cult (reasonably so) and completely forgotten afterwards. And you're telling me he'd be more successful with an oppressive religion right after the war that was fought partly BECAUSE people hated that kind of oppression?

And like... idk it doesn't track with Ozpins character as it is now. It's sort of a Rose Quartz/Pink Diamond situation- we see how he is now, and then shown how he WAS, and think how he was is how he is now. And like. I don't think how he is now would do that kind of thing- it's blown up in his face multiple times, why would he keep trying? On top of that, there's multiple other pieces of evidence that he's saying NO to Lights task and the Gods' return. And like... i feel like the end of the war and post-war kinda shows that he kinda Gets the balance thing? Even if he doesn't realize he gets it, he kinda... did the thing the Blacksmith was talking about. Destruction to clear away the wilderness (the Relic of Destruction was presumably used during the final battle, then he tore down the world's militaries and monarchies), and then he created (created institutions of learning, created an entirely different form of government, and raised Atlas. Idk which this one goes into, but he also helped free Vacuo).

He... kind of Gets the whole balance/actual meaning of destruction thing (hello, the circle/cycle theme in the Infinite Man?). I mean, it's sort of how his reincarnation works. I don't think his current belief system is very compatible with Lights at all. Plus it seems like he kinda... doesn't like the Gods. So it doesn't make sense for him to continue working towards his task at this point.

Anyways. There's no proof there's a modern Brothers-based religion in RWBY, and it doesn't fit with Ozpins character at all. I like the idea, but it's better as an au.

[bidisaster-peanut-romano]

considering the state of bullworth (the city), what do you think the state of the country or world is like? do you think bullworth has a unique culture, or is it almost representative of the society outside its perimeters?

i think about what hal esposito said a lot when he and lucky were finding things to watch on the tv. "what? war footage and natural disasters doesn't do it for you?"

considering it is highly likely that the world's condition is very chaotic, how might this affect bullworth and its residents?

hello there!!! ah yes, geography. my beloathed

that's an interesting question of course, yes!! my instinctive thought when first reading this ask was what i always asumed, ie: the news hal and lucky were referring about weren't local but, yknow, american general news. also bc paris from the carnival says something very similar in front of her tv, and we know that the carnival travels, so i wouldn't think of something too different.

however!! let's go by steps there, because thinking about it that's something i never properly expanded upon.

so, first of all: canonically speaking, bullworth is in new england. now, as a non-usamerican, i have very little knowledge of anything about hyperspecific cultures in america, maybe just some west coast zones or south and some midwest.

however!! the fact that there are so many kids of italian certain descent and some other kids with non anglophone last names (kowalski, brakus, luna, karamazov, etc) implies that it is an important destination for migrations. this makes me think of earlly 1900s new york, which would certainly be coherent.

now, a long time ago i found the certain information that bullowrth was supposed to be in new hampshire. however, since i have learned that "trust me bro" is never a good source, i went back to dig some deeper into the whole thing: it still seems to be more or less agreed upon that the state is new hampshire, also because someone noted a striking resemblance of bullworth with the phillips exeter academy. of course maybe it wasn't as explicit and direct as this user puts it, but it is suggestive enough that it would be nice to go with it.

now, first about the culture: we mentioned bullworth being basically a melting pot. this means that it is not only unique, but in fact very diverse, also depending on the zone. for example, i think in new coventry you'll find an especially colorful culture, with people coming from different places and different cultures, everyone holding onto their own but also interacting with their neighbor. you'll find people giving each other giving their best wishes to their neighbor for a festivity they don't even celebrate but know the other does. i mean, maybe you'll have some catholic complaining about the shop being closed just that day, but cue to the stereotypical southern italian wife smacking him behind his head and telling her good friend is home with their family and he mustn't be an annoying jerk (not in so many words, of course).

it is probably quieter the more you get closer to the vale. maybe in town there will be the occasional decoration outside of the house or in a shop, but overall… i'd say that the fundamental sentiment in bullworth is, exactly as the school crest says, canis canem edit. mind your own business and you'll live a hundred years, like an old saying goes. keep a good distance, so they don't hurt you and you don't hurt them.

and in fact, the vale is where this hyperindividualism gets ornated with the hypocrisy of the Good People, some facade to keep so that not only no conflict is created, but any chance and risk of it is perfectly concealed. you have the middle class-bourgeois, christian family who greet their neighbors with a smile and then speculate on all their disgraces as soon as the front door closes. and everything that happens in the family stays in the family, dirty laundry is washed at home.

yeah, overall i'd say. the whole point of bullworth culture is self-sufficiency, it's doing the best of what you have and care thoroughly and not let anyone else touch what's yours.

now, the natural condition of the territory: established that we are on the new hampshire coast, i have tried to dig a bit. i will bring up again something i mentioned earlier: i immediately assumed it was us or global news, but, while it is unfortunately enough to desensitize the general public to military violence, natural forces can be… a bit different.

i will tell a small anecdote about me. i grew up in an extremely seismic area, and by that i mean that we would experience at least a couple waves every some weeks, not strong enough to cause damage but enough to be perceived and do small stuff like making small objects fall off or ceiling lamps shake. and, y'know, it has always been perfectly normal for me, it has happened while i was in class and the worst thing was that i smudged a line on the essay i was writing. but then i moved away for college, and, when in geography we started talking about earthquakes, my professor admitted being scared shitless of seismic waves. my friends got the news of some waves in my native area and asked me how my family was; my mom was like “what do you mean four? i only felt three”

what was that to say? well. in my experience, the general masses are much more moved by natural disasters than by wars. so, in some way, the idea that hal and lucky were at most annoyed by the repetitiveness of the news makes me think that they have some experience with it. earthquakes probably aren't the ones, since, well. plate tectonics. which i will not explain here mostly because i have already passed that exam and i want nothing to do with it ever again LMAO. but anyway the east coast is a very stable area of the earth, so no earthquakes nor volcanoes. and, since it is located tightly in a small gulf, i think sea storms and tidal waves are out of the question too.

however! apparently, tornadoes are not too infrequent in the area, nor, i guess, storms and other similar climate events. as i mentioned before: what happens there is that you get kind of desensitized there; the thought of anything horrible happening isn't there, or, if it is, it barely hits with its full force. “but what if it is stronger next time?” we'll all just die, at least i won't have to worry about rent anymore, maybe my boss will finally kick the bucket too, ha-ha. what do you mean someone died in the next city? well, you know, it can happen.

so yeah, when you ask how it affects the people of bullworth- it probably just amplifies whatever nihilism is already there, y'know. see constantinos, who's most probably clinically depressed, or lefty's “life sucks and then you die”, which is disturbing, especially coming from a kid his age.

i guess it's not the only factor, but it does contribute to this feeling of bullworth just being some lost land, forsaken by god himself left to its own devices. it's like the entirety of the population is... in survival mode, as i tend to say; you just pull through, which should be the bare minimum, but there we are. think of yourself first, then your neighbor, but actually fuck your country, since it has never done a thing for me.

[2rats1gogh]

Hi! I wanted to know your opinion of Jacaerys. I always see that Team Black believes that he would have been a good king and it is also mentioned in the text, I, on the other hand, like to analyze what I read and draw my own conclusions. This guy's decisions were largely...bullshit. The first one that comes to my mind is the idea of riding their dragons and not sending ravens because then everyone would know they were "Targaryens" because only Targaryens ride dragons...then he proceeds to propose the idea of dragon seeds with bastards who haven't lived with his privilege claiming and riding dragons...and we already saw how it turned out. He also seems to me to be a very bad negotiator since to get support or maintain it he had to make quite important concessions and promises. The idea of sending away their little half-brothers who are not old enough to defend themselves and who only have little Stormcloud, when Rhaena and Joffrey were perfectly fine in the Vale does not seem logical to me. I always see that he died trying to save his half-brothers but this is not mentioned anywhere, Vermax decided to fly low...yes, but at no time is it mentioned that it was to rescue Viserys, I have read this fragment in the books that talk of the subject, not only fire and blood and it does not appear, I don't know if the source is this video that appeared on YouTube years ago where the Strong Boys had Valyrian traits 😂 there we see the credibility. They also say that he saved Aegon but the truth is that he was saved by his dragon... who did not allow himself to die until he was safe in Dragonstone, this decision did not have any positive impact on his half-brothers, rather it condemned them, Aegon to live with the guilt that did not belong to him and Viserys to be married at the age of 12...after spending years kidnapped.

Then there is the issue of Driftmark, something tells me that the legitimization of Addam and Alyn and consequently setting aside Joffrey as heir to House Velaryon was Corlys' condition to maintain his support, the people of team black usually say that this is so because Joffrey couldn't inherit the throne and also Driftmark (😂 sure, Corlys would be very upset if he was really his grandson) but Jacaerys was also alive when this agreement was reached. In short, I do not see brilliance or political cunning anywhere, besides the fact that with his condition as a bastard he should not have rights to the throne, but in his case no one speaks of usurpation to his half-brothers Aegon and Viserys, to Alicent's children and even Daemon's daughters, who had more inheritance rights than him and his two brothers, in the end his claim was based on a very very bad lie.

The dance is very poorly written, the truth is that this fact should have had more impact, I understand that they were going to die and George did not worry, but that Rhaenyra continued to be heir and retain so many supports being a woman with three very obvious bastards in a feudal society....It doesn't seem credible to me at all.

They give the example of English Anarchy but the truth is that it has nothing to do with it. Matilda had no siblings and it was a cousin, son of her father's sister, who claimed the throne. She also had no bastards, she had no children from her first marriage, in fact in the end it was her legitimate son, who she had with her second husband, who ended up on the throne and she fought more for his claim than for hers. It is not as similar as Team black points out, there are quite a few differences, Matilda and Rhaenyra are not the same.

Have a good Saturday! 🫶🏻

Hii sorry for the late response, hope you had a great Saturday yourself!

As much as I am a team green supporter, I never really hated Jace that much. My only real issue with him was him bringing the knife when Baela end Rhaena said that they’re going after Aemond. That’s it. He was never as awful as Luke, but he wasn’t that likable either tbh.

Imo we simply never got to know Jace well enough to say whether or not he would’ve been a good king. There is pretty much no evidence to suggest that he would. He might’ve been a good brother and a good son but that wouldn’t automatically make him a good ruler.

I think people are just mainly saying this because he is Rhaenyra’s firstborn and they are gaslighting themselves into thinking that Jace would’ve been a great king and so it’s a win for Rhaenyra when in reality we can’t say for sure. As you said, he did make some questionable decisions throughout the story. He was still pretty young, so he could’ve either matured into a wise and just king, or power and ambition could’ve corrupted him.

I think Rhaenyra’s bastards, and Jace mainly, are interesting only because they died in horrible ways. As soon as they were born (outside of marriage), they were doomed. And that’s their whole personality unfortunately. They have nothing interesting to offer other than being Rhaenyra’s doomed bastards. And Jace is just that.

And if we’re being honest, I don’t think the realm would’ve accepted him as a king. The rumors were there and people were talking. Sooo….. idk.

And you are absolutely right about Matilda!!! Her situation is entirely different from Rhaenyra’s in pretty much every way:

a) a cousin via aunt is not the same thing as half-brother via same father-king

b) Matilda didn’t have any other siblings whatsoever and was named heir because she had none, Rhaenyra did have three male siblings

c) Matilda didn’t have any illegitimate children

d) Matilda didn’t marry her uncle

e) Matilda didn’t try stealing her husband’s nieces’ inheritance

I can definitely see the inspo but it’s just not the same thing on so many levels

[batsplat]

U put forth the incredible bike-fucker triangle thesis a while back & u gave us Marc (thinks he is the bike) and vale (wants to fuck the bike) placements BUT I HAVE AN IMPORTANT QUESTION: WHO WANTS TO BE FUCKED BY THE BIKE??? I know u said u didn’t have sufficient data…but just one guy if u had to guess. Gun to my head I am saying maybe Pecco…maybe…I feel like u will disagree and I ofc cede the floor to our resident CS expert but I also feel like maybe Casey tho he would not ever admit it ever.

(x, x) hm... well. I feel like I did kinda imply jorge martin wanted to be fucked by a bike, though I wasn't entirely convinced at that point in time. the problem with this bit of the triangle is that, given the chains of heteronormativity, riders aren't ever going to flat out say they want to be fucked by their bikes. to me pecco has this adorably heterosexual energy with his bike where I reckon he'd see it as his duty to like, give it a good time after the race after it has done such a lovely job for him. like it's kinda repressed and very proper but it is him doing the fucking because, you know, he should be putting his back into it. the bike's already done the hard work!! let it rest

where I reckon we could build on our theorising is... okay, hear me out. so the thing about valentino is that as we've established, he's very much a romantic when it comes to these things. he wants to treat the bike right. but also, crucially, it's not the riding per se that's doing it for him as it is the... joint sense of purpose, their story together, how they've come together to win. I still have more screenshots of valentino stroking his bike in my drafts for a rainy day, he does like to do it when he's proper enjoyed a victory. publicly snogging the thing at shanghai 2008 to the point of indecency!! that's proper romance. I'm open to the argument that valentino is fundamentally also open to the bike fucking him - I feel quite strongly that he sees himself and the bike as separate entities, but the exact configuration can be adjusted. it's really just about having fun with his bike, right, he can get creative

that being said. what I said in that original post is that the 'bike fucking the rider' thesis partially stems from... if you just observe the literal way in which rider and bike are arranged - no delicate way to put this - you could say the bike is doing more penetrating of the rider than vice versa. the bike is pressing upwards into them as they are enveloping its with their legs. the bike is pressing into them and they are being. completed. filled. if you will. a potential next step is to argue that the riders who find riding in itself an erotic experience are going to go into the 'wants to be fucked by a bike' bit of the triangle. so again, contrast that with valentino - riding a race isn't even foreplay as much as it is a courtship ritual. regularly reenacted to ensure the spice and vivacity of the romance remains alive. the erotic appeal is sustained through the irrepressible yearning - for there is always another race to win, and upon each race victory one can celebrate the successful courtship with a renewed consummation of sorts. and thus valentino does not fall out of love with his bike... because his sensibilities are being satisfied with that perpetual novelty, that thrill. the bike riding itself, however, is not inherently erotic to him. in my opinion

so that's my new proposed criterion for wanting to be fucked by the bike: somebody who finds the very process of riding erotically appealing. I reckon I stand by my martin pick here. in the original post I made the point I think martin wants to be wined and dined by the bike - which does have more of a romantic air, a similar courtship to what I was describing with valentino. but in a sense, the wining and dining has already occurred before the race. the rituals bring you up to this moment of fulfilment, where the bike can throw martin around and maybe treat him a bit rough but ultimately show him how much it loves him or whatever. I don't know! again, the problem here is that we are working with extremely little information because riders don't generally go around implying they wish to be fucked by their bikes. with martin I am extrapolating from the extremely tenuous reasoning that he's pretty needy when it comes to wanting a manufacturer (and by extension a bike) to love him... he wants to be wanted, he craves the welcoming embrace of a place that would choose him over any other. he is an aggressive rider who cannot curtail himself too far, because not attacking every corner will make him more likely to crash. thrusting himself against the bike with every motion... so addicted to the passion he is constantly chasing the climax... splice this man open with a bike

once I got to the 'finds riding itself arousing' line of argumentation, a different name actually popped into my head first - pedro acosta. tbh I don't even particularly want to discuss him in those terms because to me he was A Child, like, yesterday. and I don't even actually have an argument here, it's literally just a vibe. he's very much got this old school bravado, this big loud personality, coarse and crass and extremely down to getting nasty with his bike. he wants to enjoy himself, he wants to enjoy life, the bike is throwing him around and he's having a lot of fun with that big machine with all that juicy horsepower and corner entry speed or whatever. to me, the other big anti 'valentino finds riding itself erotic' argument is how he feels about the danger element... he loves the thrill of riding, obviously, but somehow I reckon he doesn't get turned on by the actual danger of it all. wouldn't feel comfortable with that on any level. whereas for other riders, maybe a bit more? acosta does perhaps grasp the sensual appeal of the very thin gap between himself and the gravel. as he dips his very shoulder down so it skims finely against the ground... he is briefly connected with the earth before his machine thrusts him up again. that's the excitement, that's the sensuality, that's where lust meets addiction

right. let's address casey. I've had a go at sorting casey before but tbh I didn't like my answer so we're going to ignore it. the problem with casey is that having a sensual relationship of any sort with the bike... just does not seem his vibe. valentino once said casey wasn't a romantic rider (as you do about your rivals) and you can kinda see where he's coming from. as has been extensively discussed in this parish, casey has made it pretty clear how he just never ever would have framed his relationship with the sport in terms of 'fun'. and, well, maybe you don't need to have fun for an erotic dynamic with your machinery, but it's probably preferable, right

now if I were a coward, I could leave it there and tell you that casey just doesn't have that sort of relationship with his bike and he never had the chance to get into the bike fucking business and everything was just too serious for him an isn't it all sad... but say what you will about this blog, cowardice is one thing you will NEVER find here. so at this point, let me admit two pieces of evidence for consideration by the jury. exhibit A is the extended bike hugging and patting documented in this post:

this was at donington 2008, casey's second win of the season after a deeply troubled stretch post-qatar. as regular readers will by now have gotten drilled into their skulls, casey's season was transformed by the post-race test at catalunya (the previous race) - ducati had fixed its issues, casey once again felt in sync with his bike, and he could return to dominating races with ease like he had done the previous season. what we have here is an outpouring of relief, first and foremost, this affirmation that he could find release from his struggles... he is rekindling his bond with the bike. confirming the connection is still there. now things will get better (nobody check what happened three races later, it's fine)

this isn't strictly relevant unless you, dear reader, wish to make it relevant... but incidentally this blog has also documented helmeted valentino shaking a delighted casey's hand as both lean over their bikes:

fascinating weekend in the arc of that particular relationship, you'd have to say. worst of times and best of times

anyway, back on topic - exhibit B is this photo from a 2007 magazine shoot:

whatever that means

I'd initially scheduled this post for the day of the ranch visit but then said ranch visit happened and this blog was temporarily devoted to more important matters. but eventually we did have to return to this photo. here were the tags in the drafts --

-- and honestly, I can't say this photo is particularly selling me on the casey bike fucker thesis but. well. like I said, I had to share it

so. I'd been edging towards the idea that casey might wish to be fucked by a bike before I even got this ask... obviously casey would rather be hanged, drawn and quartered rather than admit to any bike fucker or fuckee tendencies, but tbh this should go as read with most of the things happening in casey's brain. paying attention only to what casey is saying is a fool's errand... instead you need to go beyond reading between the lines and divine the existence of alternate lines in undiscovered dimensions of reality, that's the level of unreliable narrator we're operating with here. the thing about casey is that this is a man who yearns. he's constantly yearning for something - a home he has left behind, the validation of the world, the appreciation of his peers, a relief from stress... shelter from his own mind, the experience of unencumbered joy. a version of reality that meets his own exacting standards. it is in this gap between ideation and reality, the desire for something just out of reach, that forms the bedrock of the erotic dynamic. eternal promise, minimal fulfilment

and given how the casey/valentino relationship plays out, I think it would be fair to say that casey is no stranger to the art of projection. valentino gets casey's myriad issues projected onto him throughout the course of this rivalry as casey searches both for meaning and a form of relief - and maybe valentino is so supreme in symbolising the sport in casey's head that he somehow manages to replace the bike in that role... but surely, there's a little bit of projection to spare for the bike itself. that's the thing casey spends all that time with, after all. this object of both love and hate, his own dreams, dreams he had been told were his own, his fears and anxieties - the gate to a better world, the bitter disappointment of crossing through the gate to find paradise remains elusive. casey wants to be perfect, but perfection is unachievable. casey wants his bike to be perfect, but perfection is unachievable

which leaves us with an awful lot of yearning, but not necessarily all that much in the way of release. generally, casey does not even have the opportunity to chase ecstasy - he must contend himself with relief. and yet he can feel real joy, real pride in his accomplishments. his emotions in the immediate aftermath of a race victory might be expressed in a slightly less... um. showy manner than some of his direct rivals, but they are no less real... and his victories aren't just about escaping eternal suffering or anything as hopelessly morose as that. when casey was asked a couple years ago about whether he misses motogp, he said he only missed qualifying and not racing... what casey desires here is purity, the sweetest and simplest form of racing - aka racing against the clock, against your own best lap time, against the limit of speed you yourself are able to produce. chasing a single, perfect lap. races are messy... but also. well. they're drawn out. a qualifying lap is inherently an intense, pronounced experience of pleasure - this moment of touching perfection. and in perfection there is bliss, there is the climax and the sweet release. a pole lap satisfies the yearning more than a race ever could

it is in this moment, then, that we can argue a rider such as casey achieves a 'special connection' with the bike. the last time I had a go at sorting casey according to our established model, my argument centred around the parallels between his treatment of the self and the treatment of his bike... which I do stand by, but I think casey is just a little too aware of the separation to allow him to subsume his identity within that of the bike. and the separation is what creates the yearning. that's what the donington 2008 moment is all about, right... reaffirming a connection. for all his frustrations at the beginning of 2008, for casey can never be truly satisfied, certainly never for long - now that casey has gone so long without feeling at ease with his bike, he has missed that connection. he has yearned after it. in his own repressed way, there is some romance here. there is romance in how little he demands, in truth, of his bike... casey can ride almost anything - he might be exacting of his team and by extension the bike, but he is also extremely ready to find fault primarily with himself. he strives for self-improvement more than he demands his partner to be perfect in its own right. he yearns for that moment of special connection, and in truth he does not need much to form it - absence, longing might make the moment of fulfilment all the sweeter, but casey loves nothing more than to be able to tap into that feeling regularly. on demand

there's an interesting tension between control and lack thereof in casey's riding - on the one hand, casey is looking for control in his pursuit of perfection, but on the other, there is an inherent wildness to his riding style that confounds this need. his understanding of riding, formed in the dirt tracks of his childhood, inevitably involves a bunch of uncontrollable variables that casey is having to navigate. always adapting himself to the needs of the track and the conditions and the bike... attacking every corner like it is completely new to him. and, well, in riding this buckling beast of a ducati that is dragging him around the circuit, is it not in a sense the bike that is riding him? he is submitting to the needs of the machine, the bike shall be granted the right to use him. casey is the great improviser and it is he who reacts when his bike acts - he is both in control and at the mercy of his bike's whims, not passive but reactive. and when he can feel that special connection with his bike, when he can allow himself to feel joy, there too you will see him bending down and hugging it, patting it in appreciation. in fondness. in recognition. he has yearned for perfection. it has returned home to him

it has to be stressed that all of this is extremely repressed and subliminal - in no world is casey going about mooning over his beautiful bond with the bike. and yet fundamentally even casey could not escape the own inevitable intimacy with his machinery... casey does not group himself and the bike into one being, but it is this very separation that gives the relationship meaning. whoever is ultimately in control, casey or the bike, he is willing to give all of himself to achieving this special connection. for all of his complex feelings towards the sport, for all that he retired young - whenever casey is competing, he is offering up his whole being in striving for perfection. he does not know of any other way to compete. and in doing so, he is searching for a spiritual union for the bike... unlike some other riders in this post, casey might not be inherently aroused by the process of riding the bike, but there is a sensual dimension to it. he tames the bike. the bike tames him. the bike rides him. I rest my case

[deadmenandthedivine]

DEAD MEN § the DIVINE

chapter seven: the fate of wagging tongues

Maetilda Targaryen, First of her Name, was supposed to be many things. What she became was entirely different.

table of contents

trigger warning!!! this fic contains many graphic topics and depictions. such as but not limited to: dead parents, abusive parents, toxic family systems, incest, medieval misogyny, forced marriage, threats of assault (sexual § physical), actual assault, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, blood/gore, uxoricide, familicide, PTSD and other neurodivergence. i will do my best to update as i go along, but please let me know if i have missed anything!

word count: 5746

“May I present Princess Maetilda Targaryen, first of her name, Lady of Runestone. Daughter to Prince Daemon Targaryen and his late wife Lady Rhea Royce!”

There were more people gathered in the Throne Room of the Red Keep than she had ever seen gathered at Dragonstone, outside of tourneys. The crowd was similar in size to that of her late stepmother’s funeral. Oh, the delightful spectacle that was her family’s fate. The logic of it was painfully reasonable. Of course the Realm would care to know. The state of her family was thought to reflect the state of the kingdom. What troubled the Crown, troubled its people. A healthy royal family was more likely to bring forth a thriving realm. Reversely, every little argument or skirmish was the omen of their collective downfall. Nothing could ever just be what it was. Especially the Hearing. It was not simply the settling of an inheritance; it would also set a precedent. If Lucerys’s inheritance was ruled illegitimate, so too could his mother’s. Maetilda’s mind struggled to imagine what would happen without the favor of such precedent, but she knew the entire conclusion would be disastrous. She had entered the hall alone, and was announced on her own. She bore a title that her brothers did not. She held an inheritance that no one disputed, no one questioned. One that even the Arryns of the Eyrie backed. Their house and that of her mother had been respectful rivals for generations, constantly waged in honorable competition. They were the far less vitriolic Blackwoods and Brackens. The Royces of Runestone had knelt to the Arryns of the Eyrie at the end of the Era of the Bronze Kings. All because one Keep was easier to defend than the other. Yet they all knew who held more power. An older branch of the Royce family held the Keep of the Arryn’s winter home. Surnames of Royce could be found all throughout the Vale. Their blood ran deeper than any ocean or valley. Lady Rhea had been loved and respected, and thus her only child was too. If only the same treatment could have been extended toward the girl’s step brothers. Ser Laenor himself had loved the boys, and treated them as his own. No matter what the whispers had said.

The princess descended the front steps alone, just as she had entered, with no man on her arm to accompany her. It was a symbol of strength. A calculated move that her father had dictated long ago. It would especially help that day. Without his daughter’s own strength in legitimacy, his wife would have even less of a leg to stand on. While Rhaenyra had the King’s word, the King no longer sat present at court. Instead his prudent and pious wife and her shrewd Hightower father took his place. The two of them stared down over the court with owlish eyes, watching every move. Ser Otto stood higher up the steps than his only daughter, ready to sit when the proceeding began. Indistinct whispering filled the room as Maetilda made her way over to the side of the room where her father and stepmother stood. Eyes watched her steps for any sign of falter. Lucerys stood towards the front, next to his mother, in full view of the court. He tried to hide his nerves, but the princess could tell by the shifting of his weight from leg to leg that he was ready to run at a moment’s notice. Jacaerys stood next to her father. He was more impassioned than anxious. His shoulders rolled back in an honorable and confident manner. He looked dignified and respectful. Firm and just. Just as the heir’s heir should. Both princes were dressed similarly in red and black. Dragons decorated their surcoats, collars, and jewelry. The princess’s attire fit in well with theirs. Maetilda assumed the small spot next to Jace. Ser Gunthor flanked behind her in his full bronze armor regalia.

With a scan of the room, the princess quickly determined that they were all waiting on her cousin, Princess Rhaenys. The Queen that Never Was never seemed to miss an opportunity to make an entrance. She had no problem with making the Court wait. It was a quality, among many others, that the princess had always admired in her older cousin — her confidence, her poise, her style, her discernment, her cunning. Even when all of Court was waiting on her, the princess-by-title felt nothing but awe towards the woman. The day before, Maetilda had noticed in the brief moments she saw the three just how much Rhaenys’ likeness had rubbed off on Baela and Rhaena. They had each followed on Rhaenys’ sides like Laena-esque clones. Even down to the way that they walked, the twins replicated each aspect of Rhaenys. The princess-by-title’s twin sisters had been raised by their royal grandmother ever since Lady Laena’s funeral, while Maetilda was kept on a ball-and-chain close by her father at all times. She often wondered what her life would have been like if Princess Rhaenys had taken her in too, but those were only privy dreams. The princess-by-title anxiously turned her head to look at her sworn knight behind her. It comforted her to know that no matter what, she would always have her friend at her side. Even when her family wasn’t, her knights were. When her eyes caught a glimpse of Ser Gunthor and his beautiful protection rune-covered armor, the knight had already seemed to have his eyes focused on something. He was looking just beyond her, straight over her head. She followed his eye, turning back around to find Prince Aemond staring back at them from his place with his mother and siblings on the high steps. The sight caused her to jump in surprise, not expecting it. Her cheeks heated up as she caught the attention of Jace who leaned toward her.

“Did you just spook?” He whispered as he held back laughter.

“Like a bloody horse.” She joked.

The prince laughed at his step sister’s expense before turning to his mother and stepfather. The two were whispering to each other off in their own world, and it was clear he wanted to know what they were saying. He did not spare his step sister another glance. Something she was thankful for, no more attention drawn her way. Prince Aemond’s gaze was unrelenting. It had not budged. Nervously, she glanced back at her knight. He had not moved, his stare had not broken either. For a moment, she wondered if the two had simply been innocently staring at each other, but she knew better than that. None of her knights had ever shown interest in pissing contests, certainly not one with the King’s second son. It was something she had always appreciated. They had always been more concerned about each individual hair on her head than how their names appeared on the tourney lists. Yet in that moment, her gut could not determine who had started the stand off. It told her the culprit could not have been her knight, but she also could not understand why the prince would have cared to stare otherwise. Had Ser Gunthor overheard something that had angered him? Her mind raced with possibilities. A small part of her worried for the worst. Perhaps the Hightowers had forgotten themselves completely and he overheard them question her. Her name, her title, her inheritance. She would be beyond naive to think the green-clad family would avoid stooping so low. From the very state of the castle, they had already proved they were not above treason. Deciding that whatever the reason may be, she would agree with her knight, the princess turned back toward her cousin and glared back at him. She straightened her spine and squared her shoulders for good measure. She watched as his interest visibly peaked at her actions. He even had the audacity to smirk. As if by some miracle, the doors to the Throne Room opened behind them all. It gave her the perfect excuse to break their trance.

“I present Princess Rhaenys Targaryen of Driftmark, wife to Lord Corlys Velaryon, Master of Driftmark and Ser Lord of the Tides. She is accompanied by her granddaughters, Ladies Baela and Rhaena Targaryen, daughters to Prince Daemon Targaryen and late Lady Laena Velaryon.”

The princess’s sisters and their grandmother were beyond elegant; they were ethereal and imposing. They took the breath away from the entire room as they descended the steps and took their place behind Rhaenys’s late brother-in-law’s son, Ser Vaemond Velaryon. Gazes lingered on the three, including that of Maetilda’s, even after they had ceased walking. She wanted nothing more than to be like them, to be one of them. It was even harder to quell such feelings when she saw them together. Like watching a life she could have had play out in front of her eyes. A throat at the front of the hall loudly and pointedly cleared all obstructions in order to gain the room’s attention. Careful not to catch the prince’s eye again, Maetilda snapped her focus onto the Hightower as she turned.

“Though it is the hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark.” Ser Otto began, his voice echoed across the hall from his position in front of her Uncle’s throne, “As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.”

With finality, he sat his pompous posterior on the chair of a thousand swords, “The Crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

Lord Vaemond was a proud man. She could tell by the glance he threw in her stepbrothers’ direction before he stepped forward before the court. His steps were slow and deliberate as they, too, echoed. His silver locks were pulled away from his face and he donned the ocean green colors of his house. He looked every bit the part of Lord of Driftmark. Perhaps Lucerys should have worn Velaryon colors too. Although she wondered if such a frivolous distinction would truly bring about a better outcome.

“My Queen,” The son of the second son bowed his head to Alicent before doing the same toward the Throne, “My Lord Hand.”

An uneasy air filled the room in the moment of his pause. He was relishing in his moment, smugly confident. He held his arms behind his back as if he were ready for any challenge. His chin was pointed straight into the air as if her entire family sat below it. Something in her gut told Maetilda that he seemed too confident. Wondering if she had been reading the man wrong or over thinking matters, she spared a glance toward her family to gauge their reactions. She spotted her father’s sharp stance and hawk-like eyes immediately. It was clear that he was feeling similarly, which was slightly comforting. It was even better to see his anger directed at someone that was not her after the morning they had.

“The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas.” His speech began, “When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that if they were to fail, it would mean the end of their bloodlines and their name.”

As Vaemond spoke, the princess let her eyes move away from her family and about the room. From the looks spread across various faces, his words were resonating loud and clear. They seemed to hang onto his every word, cogs turning his sentences over in their heads. It was clear they held many meanings, both innocent and blasphemous. Her blood warmed at the thought of what he would say next. The faces of Court did not help to calm her. Before she could stop the thought from physically moving her muscles, she quickly glanced back at Aemond. His eye still had not moved. It seemed to have been fixed on her the entire time. An intense, unreadable stare.

The son of the second son fixed his surcoat before continuing with more diction, “I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my uncle’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’s closest kin, his own blood.”

Jace’s body stiffened next to her. She could see Lucerys do the same beside his mother out of the corner of her eye. Had the King been present, the knight would have been treading on thin ice. But the King was not present. Those with the deciding vote shared in the knight’s sentiments. Her family had yet to shake the nest, yet the wasps swarmed regardless. The little green wasps had begun to bite and sting, yet she knew the worst was to come. Aemond only smirked at the son of the second son’s implications. Their eyes remained locked together as the princess stewed. Of course, Aemond had made his own stance on the matters clear the night that Lucerys had taken his eye. He had used the treasonous slur and was questioned by the King in front of everyone. Yet, there a man with lesser standing stood and hurled the same venom — unharmed and likely to be rewarded. It must have felt gratifying for him. Knotting her hands behind her back, she sent Aemond a pointed glare before glancing back at her knight. Ser Gunthor stood as steadfast as always, eyes still pointed directly at the prince. She hoped that he had at least blinked. By the looks of him, she could not be sure.

“The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.” Lord Vaemond stole her focus and attention back onto himself.

“As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon,” Rhaenyra remarked, audibly rolling her eyes, “If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambitions.”

“You will have your chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard,” Alicent interjected firmly.

Not good. The green-clad peacocks would most certainly accuse Rhaenyra of hysterics if she continued with outbursts. They would claim she lacked foresight or patience. That was all they needed as proof. It would be all too convenient for them. As if to make her point, the son of the second son spun defiantly on his heel to face the King’s heir. Rhaenyra kept her gaze held forward at the Throne, not sparing a glance in the cocky man’s direction. Such attention would have only encouraged him.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.”

To punctuate his statement, he gave Lucerys a hard glance before turning back to face the Hightowers perched on the high steps, “My Queen, My Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my uncle’s successor, The Lord of Driftmark, and Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond.” Ser Otto smiled curtly from the Throne.

The entire hall was silent aside from the footsteps of the proud knight returning to his spot in front of Princess Rhaenys. The weight of his words took time to be fully realized. He had truly implied treason in front of the King’s heir, the Hand, the Queen, and all of Court. He had done so with his full chest with no hesitation or remorse. Not one person voiced a complaint, aside from Rhaenyra herself. The Queen had defended his right to speak. For a moment, Maetilda had wondered if she had imagined the whole thing. But of course, she locked eyes with her cousin once more. His brow was furrowed in concentration, only to rise in challenge when she looked at him. He was smug, he stood comfortably. Relaxed back with a majority of his weight on one of his legs. His arms were held behind his back. She wanted to slap the look off of his face, take her anger and uncertainty out on him. She wondered if he could sense it, her bloodthirsty rage. His face was getting harder and harder for her to read, more difficult than any book. Once again, she glanced back at her knight for reassurance. Was he seeing what she was? Did he know the castle well enough to smuggle her out if need be? He had his hand on the hilt of his sword. If any of the Kingsguard noticed, they could start an avalanche. She felt as if she were trapped inside a cauldron over a fire. The temperature would only grow hotter if she did not get out.

The second son on the chair of a thousand swords savored his next words. He rolled them around in his mouth with a proud smirk before he smugly granted, “Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

The princess-by-title felt no more comfortable as the Realm’s Delight took her own confident and defiant steps forward. Her moniker almost seemed to serve as a mockery in that very moment. All of the Realm seemed to look down upon her like the statues of the Seven that towered to the ceilings of the hall. Her hands were fidgety like Lucerys’s, despite how much she tried to keep an air of authority. Maetilda admired her stepmother. If nothing else, she was an incredibly brave and resilient woman. She killed boars, rode dragons, challenged the word of arrogant lords, endured many deaths of those close to her, and had even jumped in front of a valyrian steel dagger wielded by the Queen. She was much more than simply a delight. She was a force to be reckoned with. However, the world had been flipped on its head. The Heir seemed pathetically powerless in comparison to the Hightowers on the high steps. Her hands were tied. Despite the strength he brought in spades, all her husband behind her could do was stand menacingly and glare. Maetilda’s hair on her arms and neck stood on edge as she put the pieces together in her mind. All they seemed to have was names and looks and words, no bite to accompany their bark. While they were at Dragonstone, they had been leashed. Without any sort of warning. If the Hightowers truly had already made up their mind, there was nothing Rhaenyra could say or do.

Her own proclamation started off in an exasperated tone, “If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very—“ Her words fell into nothing as the sound of the Great Hall’s doors squeaking open echoed above her.

The room simultaneously turned to the entrance, curious as to who would have the audacity to interrupt so late into their assembly. Tiredly bent in the center of the doorway stood the King. In all his grandeur. Maetilda’s heart skipped a beat before she dared to rub her right eye in order to assure she was not seeing anymore figures.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.” The page proudly announced.

The walking stick echoed about the room as His Grace made his dignified entrance. The entire room held their breath in awe before respectfully bowing their heads in greeting. Slowly but steadily, King Viserys limped down the steps and across the hall. His breath and pace were labored. His limbs shook from strain. His robe struggled to stay in place atop his frail, haggard shoulders. But he had never looked more strong, more kingly. The fires around the hall burned brighter as his presence blew a breath of life about the room. Maetilda stood straighter than she ever had before. She could not help the victorious grin that had spread across her face. The tables had turned. Rhaenyra’s words would no longer fall on closed ears. The King was there. Ser Otto descended from his unrighteous place to make way. His Grace huffed and puffed as he approached. Maetilda could have sworn she saw the Hightower tremble with fear. It filled her with the utmost pride.

“I will sit the throne today.” The King triumphantly declared.

“Your Grace,” Otto nodded.

Without another word, King Viserys began to climb the last set of stairs. He took to the first steps uneasily, stumbling back a bit. One of his Kingsguard rushed forward to assist him only to be exasperatedly shook off. The King’s niece had full confidence in him. He had made it all the way through the Red Keep already. The last steps would be the most familiar ones. Just as she knew he would, his Grace took each step at a time. But it was clear that the all-too-familiar steps seemed to be the hardest as his momentum was wearing thin. He hunched farther and farther over his walking stick as he relied on it to pull his body upward. Seeing him just turn down the knight, her feet felt planted in their spot. Internally, she prayed to the gods that had sent the black cloak away. She begged them to carry him up to his rightful place for all of the Court to see him. As if in direct answer, her father emerged forward. The rest of the hall seemed to be just as frozen as the princess. No Kingsguard reacted as he ascended the steps. The sound of metal clanking echoed from the front of the hall and up into the rafters, but the source was obscured by her father’s figure. As soon as he reached the King, the Rogue Prince gathered him before taking on a majority of his weight. The brothers finished the last steps together. The younger sat his elder in his rightful place and ceremoniously sat the displaced crown back onto Viserys’s head. With the most respect she had ever seen her father give someone, he bowed to the King before returning to the place he had previously occupied. The princess could have sworn she was still dreaming in her bed. Perhaps she had fallen asleep at breakfast. The King’s chest rose and fell with great effort as he sat up to begin speaking.

“I must… admit… my confusion.” He stated, “I do not understand why petitions are being held over a settled succession.”

The entire room shifted.

“The only one present… who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’s wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

The eyes around the hall were suddenly all on the Queen Who Never Was. She seemed hardly phased by them all. As if not a single one held any significance to her. She looked at no one, but her cousin. No other person was worthy of her knowledge or her gaze. It made one want to look at her all the more. Her presence was mesmerizing.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” She smirked before stepping forward.

Like a crane moving through water, she took soft, calculated strides to the front. Much like her husband’s nephew, Princess Rhaenys savored her moment. She assured that she had each and every ear and eye before she began, “It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his true-born son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

At her words, the entire hall lurched back in whispers and gasps. It should have been the reactions they had to Vaemond’s insults. Instead, it was in reaction to the King’s own will. Such a display nauseated the princess-by-title. The Kingdom truly had been turned on its head. But Rhaenys was not done.

“His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’s granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

The Court had lurched back in shock before, but they completely dissolved into hysterics after that. The lords and ladies around the room tried pathetically to keep their voices at a hush as they gossiped into each others’ ears. It was a watertight proposal, two watertight proposals. They politically sealed much of Rhaenyra and her brothers’ claim. Their only other problems would be Aegon, his two small boys, and Aemond. But they were a bridge to be crossed upon arrival. The entire hall seemed to be buzzing, yet the princess-by-title remained frozen in place. Maetilda felt like the floor had been pulled out from underneath her. All of her siblings of age had been betrothed in one fell swoop. She was happy for them, happy for what their marriages meant, but she was utterly terrified of what it meant for her. The last one left, the least desirable, the spinster. Her father had hated Runestone and everything about it, reminded her frequently. Perhaps no one wanted Runestone. Or worse, did not find the castle worth putting up with her. There had to be a deeper explanation. Her father allowed for his two other daughters to be engaged, both of them. But not her. She also felt guilty for thinking of herself in such a moment. A moment where she should have been congratulating her four siblings. Instead, she was thinking of herself and why her father did not love her like he loved her sisters. He had always spent more time with them, wrote more letters to them, and bought them more presents. She scolded herself for not seeing it coming sooner. Yet something about the entire arrangement felt too calculated. Like an internal pull she could not shake, her gut twisted with suspicion. Something wasn’t right. It did not feel right. Suddenly becoming aware of the dryness in her eyes, she blinked back out of her head. The King was wheezing as he spoke. He was listing off the titles that Corlys currently bore, likely proclaiming Lucerys to be the inheritor of them. She was not sure how long he had been speaking for, but the hall was eerily silent. Feeling an itch on her nose, she peaked at Aemond out of the corner of her eye to see if he had been watching her drown in her inner turmoil. He had been.

“You break law…” Vaemond stepped forward again with a menacing passion, “and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me… who desires to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

Once again, the entire room shifted. Was he mad? He was undoubtedly furious, but he had to have lost his head. After double checking that her knight was still located diligently behind her, the princess-by-title gawked at the son of late Lord Corwyn’s second son with an open mouth. It was like she could see the sword fight about to break out in front of her. Shoulders tensed, hands moved to hilts. The cauldron over the fire that they were all trapped in was about to boil over.

“Allow it?” The King dared, “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

Vaemond stared at him blankly before shortly pivoting with an accusatory finger pointed at the boys, “That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine.”

“Go to your chambers,” Rhaenyra pushed her sons toward the doors before turning to the proud man, “You have said enough.”

The boys fell back, but moved no farther away. They were not children anymore. They would not run and hide at their mother’s command as they used to. Rather, they stood behind each side of her as she turned back to Ser Vaemond, ready to fight him with her bare hands alone. Her breath was heavy and uneven. Her fists shook with barely contained rage. She opened her mouth to spit insults back, only for her beloved father to start speaking in her place.

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you… no more than a second son of Driftmark.” The King reminded him.

“You… may run your house how you see fit… But you will not decide the future of mine.” Vaemond seethed, “My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. Gods be damned… I will not see it ended on the account of this—“

He was smart enough to hold his tongue from speaking any farther. The air of the hall felt so hot and thick, it was as if it were on fire. And like a burning fire, the princess could not look away. She stared wide eyed in hardly masked horror. Her gut screamed for her to run. Whatever happened next would not be good. But she could not move, it would be inappropriate of her. All she could do was watch.

“Say it.” Her father smiled a soft alligator grin.

“BASTARDS! The lot of them!” Vaemond bellowed.

Hot silence permeated the room as the Velaryon decided to throw all further caution to the wind while he gestured toward the future Queen, “And she… she is a whore!”

Gusts of wind blew through the windows. Rats squeaked and scurried through the walls. Servants tip toed about their responsibilities. It was so silent, one could hear all the other activity happening around the Keep. In the expanse of the Great Hall, not a single being or creature moved a muscle. Most held their breath. At the front of the room, from on top of his throne, the King’s chest heaved. With all the strength that he could muster, he unsheathed the dagger from his side and stood on shaky legs. It was as if Aegon the Conqueror had possessed his great great grandson himself. Pure fire poured from out of his eyes. His ears smoked. He fought to catch his breath amidst his emotions.

“I… will have… your tongue for that.”

Before the King could even enunciate his last word, Vaemond Velaryon’s head was sliced in two — right down the corners of his mouth. The top slid off the bottom. His legs remained standing in the seconds his muscles still held strength. Maetilda’s heart stopped as she watched the man’s body hit the floor, wincing with each individual splat. The sound of it echoed off of the walls. The hall remained silent. What a quick and final conclusion. There was no longer a matter to be settled. All arguments had turned into puddles on the floor. Wiping any blood or other bits off of the beautiful blade of Dark Sister and onto his pristine black surcoat, her father stood proudly at the dead man’s feet. His kill.

“He can keep his tongue.”

“Disarm him!” The commander of the Kingsguard declared after processing the moment. His subordinates unsheathed their weapons and pointed them at the King’s brother.

“No need.” As nonchalantly and unapologetically as a cat in the sun, Daemon stepped back and sheathed his sword.

Maetilda could not peel her eyes away from it. Sounds of the King’s groaning and the Queen calling for maesters were muffled in her ears as her senses numbed to hone in on sight alone. She had never seen inside one’s skull before. She had seen blood and entrails before, always at a distance from her place in the royal box at tourneys. She had seen the mangled flesh of Aemond’s eye socket as the Maester at Driftmark sewed it shut with careful hands. She had seen her stepmothers’ multiple childbirths including the passing of the afterbirth. Yet never before had her eyes gazed upon that which belonged inside someone’s head. She could have sworn it was still moving and twitching — thinking. The pink and dark red muscles and nerve endings that were once tightly coiled together started to sag out of place from where they once were. There was so much blood. It leaked like a water vase full of hairline cracks. The man’s body that was once so full of life and anger and passion was left limp and sagging and motionless on the Throne Room floor.

The same shoes that once stood at the dead man’s feet began to move towards her, careful, quick steps. It sent her heart into a panicked race. She was next. It was her turn to pay the price. It was her fault. She had disobeyed orders and now the man was dead. She could already hear the words coming. Her own shoes backed away in the direction of her knight. She hoped and prayed that he had remained to protect her. Her eyes lost focus as the blurry figure moved forward. The breaths in her chest scratched at her throat as it tightened. She needed to run, she needed to get out. Her blood pumped quicker as her limbs itched for movement. She should fight back. The blurry figure halted suddenly, she did the same. The blob’s shoulders bounced with angry breaths. Her breathing only got harder. Desperately, the princess clutched at the stays covering her chest. Where was Ser Gunthor? Why wasn’t he coming to her aide? The figure attempted a second approach, but she evaded it once again. She put more space between them this time, backing up until her back hit that of another person. Forgetting her manners, where or who she was, the princess did not turn to apologize. Instead her gaze focused on the black leather shoes. Not knowing how to fight back, she shook her head ‘no.’ Fear, relief, confusion, panic, despair, paranoia, a confusing conglomerate of it all. She wondered if that’s what Vaemond was feeling before he had died. She wondered if he looked down upon them then. If he floated idly over the scene while he waited for the Stranger to come and take him. If he knew what was to happen to him, would he have still spoke the words he did? Would he have expressed remorse at a trial? Were his words truly worthy of death? What crime could ever be worthy of such a sentence?

A/N: This is the longest chapter I’ve written so far!! (there are some even longer ones locked in the arsenal) This is also the first chapter that’s majorly based on one of the scenes from the show. You like?????

oh and also, I may or may not talk up the importance of House Royce for my own convenience, let’s all just enjoy this ride together 0:)

xoxo messy

[moonshynecybin]

the video of Vale for his jmm collab made me think about Vale and Marc's first appearance at some event together with all the photographers around them

valentino rossi is doing forced coming out au roleplay for high end fashion brands on my instagram feed right now. as we speak.

this one. i think is perhaps the ideal way to examine how marc marquez control freak ass tendencies rear their ugly little head. and how vale does not respond very well AT ALL to being controlled. because he is the same. thank u.

ummmm it’s still pretty early i think. first big event after the beginning of the season and their lives blowing up. they’re in italy so crucially marc feels even more out to sea. it’s fancy. lots of cameras. lots of questions. notable sponsors and international news outlets who now know too much about who they are. marc and vale aren’t quite sure of each other at the beginning of all of this (we’re still directly post sepang mind you!!!!!) and it’s like. a bit of a perfect storm to make marc wig out a little. like he’s not the kind of guy to just show up on vale’s arm and smile and let him do the talking, even if that’s the easiest option— he wants HIS words to speak for himself. he doesn’t WANT vale to be in charge of their narrative even when the last six or so months have demonstrated that he very clearly IS. he’s also a world champion thank you very much !!! 2016 revenge tour !!!

so i think he dresses really well. and he makes vale dress really well (no converse ! marc texts. the pr lady backs him up. vale wears them anyways) and he plans the food. and he hires the driver. and says uccio can’t come if i can’t bring alex. and he just. micromanages a little. overcompensates with the press. stonewalls vale when he asks him questions. let’s the resentment that he usually rationalizes away fill him up just a little, until he’s at a very nice gala dinner and camera bulbs are flashing around him and he wishes he could have brought alex and he wants to go home and possibly never talk to anyone again (NO TIENE AMIGOS 👯‍♀️) !!! hell world !!

and i think it makes VALE (egomania and also. a little bit of genuine insight gets him thinking marc’s behavior is all about HIM. which is slightly to the left of the TRUTH.) somewhat miserable. remember he’s p guilty in this au just not very aware of it so he’s just kinda. uncomfy. aware that marc is being weird not sure how to make it stop. and he overcompensates in the EXACT same way marc is cause they’re similar types of stupid. and suddenly we have two my way of the highway ass bitches attempting to pay for the bill and muscleing over each other’s answers to reporters and getting under the other’s SKIN because they hate giving even an INCH. and i know i’ve said they fuck for the first time way later on in the story but i think they get AWFUL close right fucking here because they need a place to put all this awful TENSION that they refuse to verbalize

[shalomniscient]

Pass that servchino lore I want it all don’t hold back

DGKSHKDKHGKHVD i am about to be so annoying on main…………… since this is a little vague (i still appreciate it though !! very much !!) i’ll just be writing some sevchino trivia 👉👈

arle proposed one night while we were in bed together, just cuddling. she kind of just said it, a quiet “marry me” whispered into my shoulder, but i still said yes. the wedding itself also wasn’t anything grand—if anything, it was entirely a formality. we couldn’t have a typical wedding because of arlecchino’s position and how it would paint an absolutely grand target on my back, so in the end it was just a short ceremony with no guests besides the officiant. just arle and i, and honestly? it’s more than enough for us, as long as we have each other.

we have a home in fontaine city, which is where we stay most of the time. we do have another house in snezhnaya, but after arle retires from her position, we don’t go back to that house that often. it’s way too cold for me, and the kiddos also inherited my poor cold tolerance 😔😔😔 but staying in fontaine means we bump into the fontaine cast often, which includes furina sometimes… arle still likes to mess with her a little so i have to lightly smack her shoulder to get her to behave

our favourite place to go on holiday is mondstadt. the climate is most similar to fontaine’s, so there’s not much need to acclimate. we have picnics in springvale and go stargazing at starsnatcher cliff. but funnily enough neither i nor arle drink, so we don’t indulge in mondstadt’s alcohol scene. we go to angel’s share for the food and the cat’s tail for non-alcoholic drinks (diona loves us).

a close second for favourite holiday destinations is liyue, but we frequent chenyu vale more than liyue harbour. arle and i are both massive tea enjoyers, so we visit yilong wharf and qiaoying village often (one of my irl friends selfships with a certain duke, so whenever arle and i visit qiaoying i buy a big batch of tea to pass to her. if you’re reading this, baby, i love you). whenever we go into the city, it’s 100% for the food. my spice tolerance is goated if i do say so myself, and so are the kiddos’, but arle……… she needs a glass of milk on standby.

though whenever we go on holiday to these nations, we’re always watched, and understandably so given the fatui’s reputation. in mondstadt we run into a certain cavalry captain quite often, and in liyue we both always catch a glimpse of blue-hair and a white fur coat as we walk around. it doesn’t bother us much, as long as they keep their distance from our family.

our first child, estelle, was born a year after the events of fontaine. her brother, noé, is born three years later.

estelle studies law once she comes of age, and she’s a force to be reckoned with. she wants to work under the iudex, and holds neuvilette in high regard. if estelle ever gets a vision, it’ll be hydro, and if she ever had a favourite movie, it’d be legally blonde. estelle has big popular girl energy but she is very nice and generally cordial to everyone until you cross her, at which point she will ruin your life.

noé, on the other hand, becomes a ballet dancer! he is the polar opposite of his sister and he is mean. he’s good at what he does and he knows it, which makes him a bit of an arrogant little brat. he has 1 (one) soft spot and that’s me, because for all his posturing and perfectionism he is a mother’s boy at heart, like how estelle is a complete daddy’s girl. unlike estelle, however, he will ruin your life as a warning. the regina george to her elle woods. if noé ever gets a vision, it’ll be electro. the kids inherit their viciousness from both of us, honestly.

arle does her best to be present in estelle’s early years, but since she’s not fully retired yet, it’s a little difficult. elle’s first few years are mostly spent with me and her other siblings, but even then it’s mostly lynette and freminet because lyney is busy with arle. nonetheless, they all make sure estelle knows that she’s loved.

arle retires around the time we find out we’re expecting noé, which is about 3 to 4 years post canon. for both kids, arle doesn’t cry when she finds out, but she always gets incredibly physically affectionate for the next week or so, more than usual. she also gets progressively more protective as time passes, and it spikes for the first few months after the kiddos are born, because that’s when her family is most vulnerable and it sends her instincts into overdrive.

this devolved into sevchino family lore towards the end, but that just how it be ‘round here 😔😔😔 loved doing this sm, feel free to send more sevchino asks to the inbox uwu

[ray935sworld]

https://www.tumblr.com/ray935sworld/770464509519413248/i-just-re-read-ami-amiche-amore-and-then-i-saw?source=share

I just read this and IMAGINE vale in an interview being like I would never hurt a child, they are free of their parents sins or whatever, him just yapping wild shit, fork found in kitchen, (maybe even about pedro who is jlo and dani's child, if you decide to include that) and then marc hearing this and getting so angry because he DID hurt david, a child who has done nothing wrong except for being marc's child

And then david hearing it as well and overthinking, and wondering what he did wrong if vale goes against his own moral code with him (and let's not talk about the can of worms it would open in his mind and thoughts like "maybe i am the reason papa (marc) gets so much hate and vale being so cruel to him and then Marc finds out about his thoughts (or worst, someone like dani or jlo) and them having to talk him out of it, having to convince a toddler about the fact that vale is just insane and that this has nothing to do with him)

Or even worse, if vale ever gets a question like "if the child didn't exist, would you and marc still be together" and vale the asshole being like "yeah, probably" basically confirming his biggest fear and marc's worst nightmare (his child hating himself because of vale)

Anyway, just a random thought

With love,

Mango anon 🥭

Hiiiii, okay how the hell did you hack my phone to read my drafts?

Because tell me HOW this is so similar to something that definitly will be picked up soon. I'm not going into detail to not spoiler you but I can confirm that David is going to have a very cruel moment of "what if I'm the problem?" Oh I am so close to spill the beans on that but I think it'd be more existing as a surprise so I'm biting my tongue...

Now don't get me wrong, I am in love with that first bit. Oh it is so sick and twisted, just perfect! But for me to really make it fit, I feel like I need to change it a little bit, if you don't mind? Vale is very careful and manipulative on what he says in public so I am not sure if such a blant statement of "A child is not responsible for their parents faults" would cause lots of blacklash. So how about letting the public statement be more like "Pedro was born as the product of deep love. And even if his dad (Jorge) is an asshole, you can't really blame that on that little angle" (cut to little chaos pedro - like that *evil laughter* meme from Lilo and Stitch) I feel like it still says the same thing but not as direct if you know what I mean? Plus it had the same/ similar reaction for Marc because David too is a product of their deep love which Vale actively denies with that statemant. So basically he isnt just denying being Davids father but also everything that had been between them, tehir relation, their love and everything else. And of course Vale is blaming David for Marcs allegidatly fault (cheating which he didnt but yk what I mean) so that aspect would be there too. I hope you dont mind and still like this

BUT OOOOH!OOOOH YOU GAVE ME A REAL TOY WITH THAT LAST THOUGHT!!!! Are you kidding me?! Vale confirming they'd still be together. I LOVE THAT! Now imagine Marc being asked about that in an interview. Like "Rossi said if it hadnt been for David, you'd still be together. Can you confirm that or give us your opinion on that?" And MArc just coldly stares in the camera and is like "No. If he even managed to use his biological son against our relationship, I'm sure he would easily find something else. And despite that I refuse to imagine a world where my son isn't with me. He is the most important person in my life and I will not budge on that for anyone. He will never be 2nd to anyone." Mind you, I used biological father for a reason. Rn Vale is just that. Not his father or papa, because there is no emotional connection. So he is just the biological father.

Anyway, thank you so much for you thoughts, really enjoyed them!!! I hope you dont mind the slight changes. Feel free to let me know what you think about them!!! (actually pls pls pls pls pls pls pls tell me what you think)

[atopvisenyashill]

I seriously don’t get people who cling to the key fiver argument . It’s cringe to me actually. I keep coming across random posts on Twitter about how “sAnSa iSnT iMpOrTaNt bEcAusE sHe IsNt aPaRt oF tHe kEy fIvE HAHAH sHe’s IrReLeVaNt!!” Meanwhile grrm has stated he was mostly making shit up through that outline and that characters have “changed along the way; + he’s since named sansa as a main POV and central to the story in various interviews but weirdos still cling to Sansa not bearing any actual importance to the narrative and uhhh only exisiting as a foil to Arya or something ?? And the tumblr blogs dedicated to the key fives as well 💀when Sansa is mentioned in a gifset she’s almost always a handmaiden to Dany or Arya or something . It’s just frustrating that a lot of certain (not all) stans continue to understate Sansa’s importance to the story . It’s tough constantly having to defend Sansa online!!

Yeah what’s frustrating about that is that it’s often used to dismiss WOMEN but never MEN (which like,,,,, to be fair I also find it deeply annoying when people say that like, Theon isn't important to the story and is going to die immediately in TWOW, but that's a different convo than the Key Five bullshit. No one is out here going "well theon isn't key five so he's going to die sorry" ya know). Sansa specifically, but I have on occasion seen it towards Brienne, Catelyn, and Arianne - oh they’re “not important” so they’re going to die unceremoniously in the next book, all four of them. And never mind that when you look at The Most Chapters, Sansa and Catelyn are number five and six?? AHEAD OF NED??? Are we aruging Ned isn't important simply because he's not "key five" and has less chapters than some of his kids? Especially because Bran is part of the "key five" but he has less chapters than Sansa! Like, are we saying her entire story in the capital is "unimportant" even though she gives us great insight into politics happening here? Are we saying the Vale isn't important??

"oh well they can be important and not Key Five" the thing is George himself has gone on record saying he doesn't like outlines because he prefers to just see where the story takes him, that he was just making shit up for that outline, because it was about getting the contract and not about actually outlining the story! he straight up says he's basically disregarded the outline! So while it's certainly an interesting peek into how the story came into being, it's not a road map!!! It shouldn't be taken as gospel!!!! Yeah, he's said he's known the details since the 90s, but I think it's more that once he actually started to write the book he had an idea of where he was going to go, aka after he moved past the outline. I mean hell, look at some of the early outlining and drafts for like, lord of the rings - there are some similarities but there are major changes in plot, in names, because sometimes you're just not sure where you're going until you're on that road so to speak. I know it's crazy to say, but I think all of the POV characters are important...that's why they have a PoV! I know!!! Mind blown!!!!!

[kerink]

in the server i was given the opportunity to explain what we know about the history of the joycon so far, and bulk and sarah asked me to post it. unfortunately it was an audio file so here's my best shot at a cleaned up transcript

---

basically all you need to know about the joycon is this: in it devours pastor munn says that at some point in the past kevin had found an old oak door, had gone to the dow, had discovered the centipede (which they personify as being the smiling god [there may also be some personification with the light that exists in the dow that torments carlos while he's there, and is the reason the masked warriors wear masks]), and while kevin was in the desert otherworld he wrote a bunch of scripture about the centipede and his perceptions of its behavior. it's unclear what kevin knew about the about the worship of the smiling god before going to the dow for the first time. pastor munn says that after kevin was in the dow, he came back to desert bluffs and started proselytizing his findings over dbcr. but kevin said that strexcorp first showed him the smiling god. however, strexcorp was still taking over desert bluffs at the beginning of wtnv. in episode 19B kevin talks about how strexcorp is still buying up pieces of desert bluffs, so i don't know what the timeline looks like in terms of the potentiality of strexcorp encountering kevin, taking over dbcr, teaching him about the smiling god, sending him to the dow, bringing him back to desert bluffs, having him proselytize, and then taking over the town. it seems like a very tight, but possible, timeline, which gets into a lot of my theorizing about kevin, that I'm not gonna get into because it's outside the scope of this.

in addition, when dana goes to the dow, she tells cecil that there is an abandoned settlement of what we can assume were former smiling god worshipers (based on the orange triangle imagery in the abandoned settlement). so at the very least, kevin went to the dow, possibly with an expedition or team of missionaries or something, and they had some kind of settlement there for however long they were there studying the smiling god dana implies that something happened to the party (possibly something similar to what happened in it devours: the centipede, came up and ate everyone or destroyed the settlement beyond the point of them being able to recover it). so then kevin survives, comes back to desert bluffs, and starts proselytizing. it seems like the ability to get back to the dow was lost, because in the e38, the strexcorp representatives are looking for the orange that has the key to the old oak door. so i read that as strexcorp (which is either controlling the joycon or is controlled by the joycon) trying to get back into the dow but not having free and easy access to it. in it devours nilanjana and darryl were talking and darryl is telling her about what heaven looks like in their religion, which leads nilanjana to theorize that the joycon's heaven was the dow. based on this is seems like the joycon higher ups conceptualize the dow to be heaven and the centipede as being god (or the centipede being god manifest in the flesh because they also worship the light of the desert otherworld). so the joycon kind of factions off into what is like kevin’s controlled and led joycon in the dow (which has, i would assume lost communication with the night vale division) and the night vale division which seems to have kind of like a generational schism, where the younger folks (darryl and his friends) don't understand that their religion is not metaphorical. while the older generation (pastor munn and gordon), who were likely taught under kevin (pastor munn references to the fact that it's a very young religion and that the texts she has were passed down, i assume passed down from kevin or from one of his administrators [because it's even known from e135 that kevin has administrators within the church and is likely not directly leading the congregation]). the joycon is kind of multi-fractured between the folks who are directly following kevin in the dow, getting sermons and prophecies from him, and then the folks in night vale’s dimension (i'm assuming there are joycon worshipers in the other towns) whereas the older generations would have been ex-desert bluffs citizens (or I believe early in s1 maybe sometime in s2, cecil alludes to there being joycon worshipers in night vale, so i think it's like kind of a pervasive, minority faith within the universe). there would have been people, whether they're ex-desert bluffs citizens or not, who were getting pretty direct teachings from what would have been kevin-centered faith. a more pure, i guess, kind. and then the younger generations who grew up in the joycon and didn't get that same tutelage due to not having that direct link to kevin and hearing his story of actually having gone to the dow and knowing about his very real connection to the light in heaven and to the centipede. and they’re therefore taking everything as metaphor. even in it devours pastor munn kind of scoffs at darryl like “there's a centipede on the door. what are you talking about? how to do not understand this?” so something is not being communicated effectively.