#but they're irreconcilable

[beevean]

Thinking again of this post, because I read a Fridge moment on TvTropes that made me think:

Well, to me it was rather obvious that Lenore put on makeup, and took time to brush her hair in that complicated hairdo, and chose the prettiest dresses: she clearly cares about being beautiful. Of course, being just "beautiful" is not the point: it's being humanly beautiful. Carmilla is also an attractive woman if you're into #girlbosses, but she has chalk-white skin, hair that matches, and long claws, so she's very clearly inhuman.

And this all feeds in Lenore imitating humanity. While with this logic it's a bit odd that she doesn't hide her red eyes and pointy ears, otherwise she puts a lot of effort in her appearance, and most importantly to look human and vulnerable. She cuts her claws and puts blush on her cheeks to look more human, less creepy. She says she enjoys eating human food to "live well".

Another underrated line is this:

Lenore: You didn't hear me enter. Hector: No. You have a scent. Like… jasmine and wine.

It's easy to chalk up this as a way to make Lenore even more appealing, in an outstandishly Mary Sue-ish way for a grown professional writer lol. But why would a vampire smell like flowers? What if vampires naturally carried the reek of the dead, but Lenore cannot afford to be anything less than perfectly attractive, so she doused herself in perfume to the point that Hector was able to smell her out as he was engrossed in his book? It's all calculated to the detail.

Everything is, of course, in function of her role as a diplomat. One, she needs to be approachable, and put the other person at ease: basically, she wants to avoid falling into the uncanny valley vampires naturally reside in. Two... well.

Lenore, thematically, goes against Dracula's thesis.

Did you hear Godbrand down there? "Livestock," he said. So many of my kindred are the same. They can no longer conceive of humans as thinking beings. Just livestock. It's the privilege of our condition, I suppose. You can't hate livestock. They are simply what they are. Grazing animals to be slaughtered. But you two are different. You are human. You are not looking at the scouring of humanity from the earth as an opportunity to get the livestock under control and to fill stables, and abattoirs, and pantries. You hate your species. You hate humans. You have a focus and clarity that the others lack. You understand that humans think, and scheme, and betray. You understand why they all must die.

The reason Dracula trusts Hector and Isaac more than his fellow vampires is that, according to him, vampires have essentially blue and orange morality regarding humans, and don't see them as sapient beings. They kill because they feed on them, and that's it, they don't spare much thought about them. The Forgemasters, as humans hurt by humans, understand how they think, and as such empathize with Dracula's plight.

Dracula was right when it came to the other vampires. Carmilla waltzes in and the first thing she asks is why is Dracula mobilitating all vampire forces for what she sees as a pet: in fact, this is more or less the whole reasons she schemes against him. When Hector is dragged to Styria, Striga refers to him as an "it", like a stinking dog. Carmilla herself has to be told that maybe beating a Forgemaster and then expecting him to work for her is not exactly a galaxy brain moment, because well, said Forgemaster may have feelings. You have vampires on one side, and humans on the other side, and they see each other as nothing but beasts for different reasons.

Lenore is, in theory, the exception to the rule.

Yes, at first she also saw Hector as an animal, as some sort of stray dog to domesticate. But unlike the others, she understands how humans think. She knows which buttons to push. She's better than Carmilla at pretending to care about Hector, who only limited herself to some shallow praises and to spin her plan as "it's going to save your life"; no, Lenore asks what Hector wants, she's physically affectionate, she compliments not just his skills but him as a person, she even asks him if she can come visit him again pretending Hector has a choice in the matter, with the purpose of making him feel wanted.

She knows how to talk to a human, like a human, looking human.

And this is what makes her much more terrifying than Dracula or Carmilla, who at the end of the day are only monsters with human feelings.

You're not likely to encounter a genocidial madman who plans to kill all people in the world because wife died, or an insane radfem who wants to conquer the world because men stupid.

You are, however, very much at danger of falling into the trap of a charming sociopath who knows very well how to pretend to love you, and tricks you into loving them, only for them to imprison you in a terrible, humiliating, stifling, toxic relationship - and then they have the balls to pretend they're only acting for your own good, mocking you all the while.

This is how Lenore blurs the line between vampires and humans. This is what made her, despite all the other writing flaws of S3, an interesting character. This is how humanizing a character can be a bad thing. And incidentally, this is how you incarnate the themes of a mask (that really should have gone to Carmilla): Lenore puts on makeup and perfume and acts sweet to hide the monster inside her. (yes i know that actually she sounds smug and condescending af, but i'm going with the intent)

Lenore might not want to target all of Europe which makes her less of a threat than Dracula or Carmilla, but she's the incarnation of human hunger for power, as she clearly enjoys mentally subjugating other people (her "diplomacy" is, after all, nothing but a bunch of lies and gaslighting), and she perfectly looks the part, and it's actually very clever.

She also acts as the perfect foil to Hector, who is a human who doesn't think like a human, doesn't empathize with other humans, and can suggest to enslave other humans without a hint of malice in him - much like vampires feed on humans not out of cruelty, but because it's part of their nature.

And this is one of the infinite reasons the Lenore of S4 offends me. Now her beauty is a sign of her inner goodness. Now her proximity to humanity is used to make her sympathetic, because poor thing she's appalled at Carmilla's insanity, as she wasn't an enthusiastic participant when it was convenient to her. In a frantic quest from the writing to give her "humanity" in the sense of "a good side that makes her deep", she becomes duller, flatter. In her way, S4 Lenore still has potential as an interesting character, as it becomes more obvious that she's the unfavorite of her sisters much like Hector was considered an idiot by Dracula and Isaac, and that could have been used to explain why she seems so famished for control over the one creature weaker than she is. But after the heels of S3, it comes off as whitewashing her for the sake of a ship pandering to the fans who found her hot and nothing more in S3, and it's at the very minimum dishonest. She was much more interesting as a double-faced amoral villain made of nothing but masks.

[imdayyydreaming]

oh we are never getting nandermo i fear

[some-greatreward]

also it's already some kind of miracle that the smiths even happened once bc at their core morrissey and johnny are just fundamentally such different people that it's no small feat that they ever wanted to work together in the first place.

[astranauticus]

i'm not even done with the new rwd episode but. spoilers ahead

anyway funny thing. i wasn't like, super on board with the professionals when i was first binging through the first 3 seasons and especially once we got to season 3 i tunnel visioned on VR-LA and MR-SN super hard (as is probably extremely obvious from my art) but like. 4.5?? the exchange they had??? the fucking breakup scene???? yeah. yeah i get it now. i have no idea why or what changed but i have now Gotten It at the worst possible timing. what the hell

[venacoeurva]

Wren’s parents both have absurd tastes in men and they came together and made a guy who got their combined tastes in men so his is even weirder

[alltoowelltom]

ice princess ⛸️

oscar piastri x figure skater!reader (+ toto wolff's daughter!reader)

from this request HERE

skateupdates: Olympic figure skating pair Y/N Wolff and Valeriy Angelopol have called it quits! Despite competing together since they were children and dating for the last year and a half, Valeriy has released a statement that the duo would be 'going [our] separate ways for the upcoming competition season'. He also stated there were 'no hard feelings regarding the separation, [the couple] just turned out to have irreconcilable differences'. Our reps reached out to Y/N Wolff for a statement but she has declined to speak on it at this time.

user1: WHAT

user2: MUM AND DAD SPLIT UP?

↳ user3: and they won't compete together anymore??

user4: wait will they be retiring? or will they compete in separate categories?

user5: 'she has declined to speak on it at this time' I just KNOW mother is LIVID

↳ user6: no hard feelings my ass 💀

liked by oscarpiastri, yourbestie, lewishamilton

yourusername🔹️: 🎧😴

comments on this post have been disabled.

liked by oscarpiastri, susiewolff, yourbestie

yourusername🔹️: back at it ⛸️❄️

user1: DOES THIS MEAN SHE WILL STILL COMPETE

danielricciardo🔹️: That's our girl!

user2: oscar being the first to like as usual

lewishamilton🔹️:🔥🔥🔥

↳ yourusername🔹️: don't you dare send fire to melt my ice??

↳ lewishamilton🔹️: I was being empowering bozo

↳ user3: they're so sibling energy 😭

user4: I'M SO PROUD OF YOU Y/N

oscarpiastri🔹️: 🐧🐧

liked by yourusername

↳ user5: is this him 'making a move' 🥴

liked by yourusername, landonorris, charlesleclerc

oscarpiastri🔹️: Good day, pumped for a p5 finish 👊

yourinstagram🔹️: WOAH

↳ user1: SHE"S SO REAL FOR THIS

↳ oscarpiastri🔹️: What?

↳ yourusername🔹️: jawline sharper than my skates 😳

↳ oscarpiastri🔹️: Why are you always bringing my jawline into things?

↳ yourusername🔹️: OHMYGOD PASTRY ITS CALLED FLIRTING READ SOME SMUT

user2: UHHHHH WHAT WAS THAT INTERACTION WITH Y/N

↳ landonorris🔹️: IDK MATE

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, susiewolff

yourusername🔹️: thank you for having me @.mclaren!

mclaren🔹️: The pleasure was all ours Y/N 🧡

landonorris🔹️: *oscar's

↳user1: LANDO TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW

landonorris🔹️: I didn't even make it onto the post 😔other priorities i guess

↳yourusername🔹️: I WAS PROUD OF YOU TOO LANDO

oscarpiastri🔹️: I can't believe you'd post my ducks

↳yourusername🔹️: NO ONE IS HAPPY WITH ME POST

user2: soooo...the shoes?

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, susiewolff

oscarpiastri🔹️: Proud is an understatement 🧡🩵

user1: OUR GIRL WON THE GOLD 🥇

↳ user2: the way we haven't heard a peep from her ex skating partner too-

user3: IS THIS AN ANNOUNEMENT FINALLY

yourusername🔹️: 🧡🩵

↳ user4: ohmygod do the hearts represent them the papaya for mclaren the ice for y/n

danielricciardo🔹️: Congratulations Y/N!

user5: daniel being y/ns biggest supporter for like a decade😭🥹

user6: LOOK AT THEM TOGETHER

user7:what the hell does toto think of this 😭

↳ yourusername🔹️: believe his exact words were 'will oscar come to mercedes now 🙂'

user8: @.yourusername so you and oscar DID go skating 🥹🥹

↳ yourusername🔹️: was like bambi on ice

↳ user9: been waiting for them to realize for so long...like i knew it

↳ landonorris🔹️: preaching to the choir mate

a/n: thank you for reading! reblogs and feedback help sm <3

i really want to be posting more as I'm so busy with work and also graduating in a few months and that seems to be taking up all my time 😩 but I really appreciate the support I've been receiving and will be working through your requests asap 🤍

[teaboot]

holy moley the idea of alexander skarsgard as murderbot is irreconcilable in my head lol. when i read the book for my scifi class i pictured murderbot as more feminine in appearance tbh, and i thought it was weird that no one else in that class seemed to. i feel like i mightve missed something in the text bc i find it wild how widespread "murderbot looks like a man" is. or is their physical appearance more fleshed out in other books?

Murderbot (it/its so far as I've read) has so far been definitively described as having:

A Humanoid figure, with two arms and legs

A human face

Explicitly no genitalia, with none desired, and no primary or secondary sex characteristics noted

(In book one) Having hair only on its head, then eyelashes and eyebrows, being smooth everywhere else

Nonhuman features on its arms/legs that can be concealed under pants and long sleeves

Some kind of mechanical port on the back of its neck that is not uncommon on "augmented humans"

No distinct freckles, moles, or markings

An incomplete internal digestive system

By what isn't described I imagine we can safely assume that it has eight fingers and two thumbs in the usual formation, though wearing shoes I'm not sure about toes.

I also haven't heard anything apropos of scarring, except that it heals rapidly, so I imagine any distinguishing marks from injuries likely wouldn't last long.

Nobody as far as I've read has referred to it by any assumed binary or neo-pronouns, and as relatively progressive as the setting is in terms of queer and poly relationships I can easily imagine that agender humans with it/its pronouns wouldn't be too terribly strange in common company either.

So far, no third party characters have called it a "he" or "she", which could either mean that nobody in this universe adheres to our current rigid social view of the gender binary and masc/fem appearances, or that Murderbot is simply incredibly androgynous. As a reader, I like to think the reality is both- a secunit doesn't need to look distinctive or gendered or have any features it doesn't strictly need outside of its function. As it says in the book, it's not a sex-model, so it doesn't need sex-parts, and it wasn't made to be looked at.

I feel like the only reason anyone would read that and ascribe to it a male face and body is because our current western society tends to treat "white male" as the natural default setting, and anything else as "other".

We expect Murderbot to be a conventionally handsome white man because that's the popular view of neutral.

But there's no reason it couldn't be performed by an actor who is female, or Indigenous, or Korean, or anyone else from anywhere else

If our Pretty White Man isn't the default neutral in Murderbot's universe, and if there is no default neutral, then the Default Neutral Murderbot was designed to look like could be anyone

Provided, of course, that they 1. Have a human face 2. Have no freckles or moles (for book 1 at least) 3. Have two arms and legs, of some manner, and 4. Don't flash their junk on screen

Aa far as I'm concerned, that's all we need.

And you know what? I think the prospect of getting to choose any actor at all, point to them, and say "This person? They're the norm! They're unremarkable! They are a version of True Neutral, and they aren't a small-nosed blue-eyed white guy with abs!"... I think that's kind of exciting, and I sort of fear that it may be an overlooked opportunity to say something interesting

[skufdaddyswansea]

Jimmy and Swansea at Their Worst

The crash of the Tulpar sees Jimmy thrust into a leadership role for which he was hopelessly unprepared, and in the months that follow, his chain of poor decisions leads to dire consequences for all those aboard, himself included. But he wasn't alone in that marathon to rock bottom. If we follow his footsteps downward, we'll find Swansea's right there next to his.

At the surface level, the two already have a lot in common. They're both brash to the point of rudeness, openly dissatisfied with their lives, and have short fuses.

Notably, Swansea can also be overly critical of Anya.

...But, to be fair to him, he's like that with everyone.

When they really start to converge is after the crash. Looking at Swansea's relationship with Daisuke, it's almost a microcosm of Jimmy's relationship with the crew. While he initially makes an effort to do the right thing, he inevitably gives in to his worst impulses and fails. In Swansea's case, he falls off the wagon. This may look like only a personal weakness, especially compared to Jimmy's more outwardly destructive behaviour. But in his position, even the harm he does to himself reflects outward.

Daisuke is the only other member of the Tulpar that we see "indulging" in the mouthwash. Swansea has no idea that he's sprawled on the floor, sick on dental hygiene products, devoid of his characteristic cheer. If he did know, what could he even say? After all, Daisuke was only following his example.

Later on, Swansea's alcoholism prevents him from protecting Daisuke in a much more literal sense.

All his secrecy and isolation were for nothing.

One of the major reasons he withdrew from Daisuke was because Daisuke was much too naive to hide the cryopods from the others; he probably never would have accepted that everyone else would have to die for him to survive. Swansea took extreme measures to guard the Utility room from Jimmy, all to protect Daisuke. But in doing so, he gave Jimmy the perfect opportunity to take advantage of those very traits he wanted to protect.

In this moment, both Swansea and Jimmy fail Daisuke. They both let their weakness blind themselves to danger. And they both realize their mistakes far too late to save anyone.

But it's through this ugly truth that Swansea is able to break off from their path. With the last of his hope gone, he can do what Jimmy can't: he accepts it. And he does what he knows is right, even if it breaks him to do so.

I think Swansea also sees some part of himself in Jimmy. Maybe even what he could have been if he didn't fight so hard against his demons. That's why in his final act, he tries one last time to get through to him. It was too late to make things right with his kids, or for Daisuke. Or even himself.

Of course, he knew it was futile. Jimmy was never going to listen. Because what really set them apart in the end was irreconcilable; the gulf between them was shaped by their ideals.

Swansea wanted to be a better man. Jimmy wanted to be a hero.

[averycutesalamander]

finished the 2.6 story and promptly blacked out and wrote this in a feverish haze. minor gore warning (it's really mild but still). also this is up on ao3 if that's your preference. comments always appreciated but not obligated 💕 xoxo love yall

Boothill tries not to sleep very often. 

He doesn't particularly need to, either; he can get away with around a dozen hours every week if he pushes himself – which he often does. The only time he sleeps with any consistency is when he's with you, in the interim between his long journeys away. 

He doesn't often have pleasant dreams, but when he does, it's always when he's sleeping by your side. His particular favorite is an impossibility, as dreams so often are. 

He's back on Aeragan-Epharshel, playing with Clementine. She's a bit older, now – around ten. She's still just as sunny as she always was – though he hasn't quite managed to get her to stop tugging on his hair; perhaps he should be content with her progress so far, considering that she never pulls hard anymore. He's outside with her on a blessedly warm fall day, painting stones with the pigments you made by hand; the holidays are a few months off, and Clementine wants to paint customized stones for everyone she can think of, aunts and uncles included. (She told him very decisively that she'd make his rock on her own. It has to be a surprise, obviously.) He'd argue that her painting is far better than his, but he still makes one for you – a messy collage of your favorite colors on a shiny black stone, forming a smeared mimicry of the night sky. 

When she tires of that, he hauls her up onto his shoulders and heads inside to badger you, disturbing your reading. You banter; you chat; you help Clem clean up, then dot her little forehead with kisses until she laughs – that sweet, warm laugh, like the chime of a bell. After that, he helps you out with dinner, the aroma of casserole filling the entire house. Clem lingers by your feet, clinging to your pants as you chop vegetables plucked from the garden that morning. She looks up at you with those dewy doe eyes, pouting dramatically until you relent and give her small chunks of veggies; you're so used to her habit of begging like a dog for scraps that you bring out a little more vegetables than you need every time. He watches on with a tender, lovestruck smile, perfectly content. 

When he woke up from that dream, it was to the silence of your bedroom, his eyes burning and his chest aching something fierce. He looked down at your sleeping form sprawled over his body, your limbs tangled and your face soft with sleep. With his hands shaking slightly, he shifted to hold you just a little tighter against him, savoring your weight, your warmth, your smell.

That dream will never be a reality, but at least he can fulfill some morsel of it. 

It's rare for him to be so fortunate as to have sweet, peaceful dreams like that one – despite the irreconcilable yearning they're tainted with. Most dreams – such as the one he's having right now – are not so pleasant. 

Smoke clogs the air, so thick that it burns his lungs. Flames press in on all sides, licking at his heels, searing his skin. The smell of death, of burnt hair and flesh, of ash and misery, is so oppressive that he feels like he's suffocating under the weight. A cacophony of screaming echoes from all around him, cannon fire bursting in his eardrums, but through the noise, he hears it – the shrieking wail of a child in pain, piercing straight through his heart. 

He's running, clamoring through the fire, stumbling over the rubble of destroyed homes and corpses whose roasted, blistering hands grasp uselessly at his ankles, their croaking voices begging him for help; his instincts urge him to obey, to haul them out of the fire and carry them to safety, to tend to the wounds of his family – but he knows in his heart that there's no use. There is no safety here, nowhere to bring them, no way to treat burns so fierce that they've bared bone and sinew. 

But there's a dash of hope in his heart, because that girl's crying is so clear, so crisp – he must be close. Yet no matter which way he turns, no matter how fast he runs, no matter how far he sprints into the carnage, he can't find her. Her cries turn sharper, more anguished; she sobs his name, pleading, begging, but her voice only seems to be getting further away. His chest heaves, his tears evaporating from his eyes before they can spill, his flesh melting from his bones in a slurry of fat and muscle. Why can't he find her? Where is she? Why did it come to this? Why, why, why–

“It's okay, bee.” 

A soft voice echoes in the back of his head, nearly muffled by the deafening noise battering him from all sides. He collapses to his knees, completely spent, his whole body disintegrating into ash. He's burning, he's burning, but so is Clem – he can hear her screaming, louder and louder, piercing clean through his skull. He has to find her, he has to get up, he has to–

“Wake up, honey. It's okay. I've got you.”

The voice is a little louder now, and it feels like his body cools slightly, like the flames have been slightly dampened – but a moment later, they roar back to life with a vengeance. This can't be happening; this can't be real. He can't– 

“Wake up.”

He jerks awake with a gasp, his whole body shaking like a leaf. He can hear your voice in his ear, your arms wrapped tight around him, his head nestled against your chest as you slowly rock him back and forth. He's already clinging to you, arms locked around your waist, but he pulls you in even tighter, desperate for an anchor. His breathing skips as he sobs, not a tear to be found, his body aching with phantom pain.

It takes a few moments for him to even process your words. “You're alright,” you murmur softly, stroking tenderly through his hair, your other hand tracing soothing circles into his shoulder. “Shh, shh. It's okay.” 

Mindlessly, stupidly, he blubbers your name, nearly incomprehensible in his distress. 

“I'm right here, baby. I've got you.” You tighten your hold slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Breathe with me, sunshine. Can you do that?”

You take a deep, slow breath, your heart beating steadily in his ear. On instinct, he mimics you, his lungs stuttering in his chest. The air of your exhale tickles his hair, and his own warms your skin, taking with it a bit of his tension. Inhale, exhale; slowly, his hydraulics begin to relax. Inhale, exhale; his hands grow a bit steadier, his palms flattening against your back. Inhale, exhale; he swallows heavily, the fear bleeding out of his veins. 

The two of you stay like that for some time, your breathing keeping him grounded, letting him clear his mind. “I'm… I'm sorry,” he rasps, so soft that it's nearly muffled by your skin. 

You shush him softly. “Nothing to be sorry about, honeybee.”

He doesn't even have the energy to rebuke you; as the terror flees his body, exhaustion rushes in to fill the gaps. After a moment, he murmurs, “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I'm okay.”

He can practically feel the gentle, concerned furrow of your brow. “Are you sure? I don't mind staying up to talk with you, if that'll make it easier.” 

He shakes his head, burrowing a bit further into your chest. “You're helpin’ just by bein' here, honey.” Slowly, he begins to rub circles into your back, just as you're doing to him. “This is just fine.”

He can sense your hesitation, can hear it in the beat of your heart. He lifts his head to kiss your collarbones, shamelessly savoring the scent of your skin. 

“I'm okay,” he whispers. “Just get some rest for me, sugar.” 

You're silent for a beat before finally sighing, your body relaxing against him. “If you say so.” You lean down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Promise you'll wake me up if you want company, alright?” 

He smiles, a tender, shaky little thing, then presses his ear to your chest. “Sure thing, pumpkin.”

Thankfully, it doesn't take too long for you to drift back into a light sleep, your breathing deepening, your heart slowing next to his ear. Your natural rhythm soothes him so efficiently that he might've fallen back asleep if he weren't actively trying to stay awake. He distracts himself by stewing over your plans for tomorrow, how he'll spend his precious time with you. 

He'll make you breakfast in the morning, he decides – though he'll have to be careful not to disturb you. He always loves watching you wake up, and he's sure it'll be even better if it's to a fresh plate of food. 

Yeah, he thinks, his lip quirking fondly as he nuzzles into you a bit more firmly. That'll be good.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

full hcs for what post-route m6 would say if they got to talk to pre-memory loss mc for a few minutes?

The Arcana HCs: Post-Route M6 get 10 minutes with Pre-Memory Loss MC

Julian

He's sorry

There's a lot more he wants to say, but he begins with a stream of apologies when the person in front of him isn't the investigator who became his ally, but the assistant he failed to protect

He's not proud of it, but for a moment he feels himself slip back into who he used to be

Someone whose value lay solely in how useful he could be to someone else, self-hatred creeping back in like an estranged family member when he sees how useless he was to you

But the you from back then, standing in the middle of the plague and seeing someone stronger, better-fed, less sleep-deprived, the you from back then can see that he's grown. He's happy

The you from back then only seems to want to know if the plague you died trying to make up for had a cure, and if the doctor you lost your life assisting was ever able to find it

And he did. Twice. Without having to prove himself to anyone

Asra

Oh, how they used to miss this version of you

There's so much running through his head. On the surface, it's the first and only chance he's really had to see the difference between who you were when he lost you and who you are now

But deeper, it's the wave of phantom pains, pulling them under and back to when they would've given anything to see this version of you again, when they waded through hell to get you back

And the fear, flashing up from an underlying simmer, that the you then and the you now are so irreconcilably different that there's only one of you he can truly love

As they fold you into the kind of hug that only old friends share, the first difference they notice is that your heart doesn't beat in time with theirs the way they're used to - and it's their revelation

He had enough love in his heart for who you were - and it grew to love you back into his life - and more again to hold both of you in the current one. He has enough for every piece of who you are

Nadia

She's ... humbled, a little

The you that she knows and loves now is someone who has faced down the terrifying and illogical with her, who has supported her through the rejuvenation of an entire city

But the person standing in front of her reminds her more of the person who first walked in through the Palace gates

You're ... normal

Not in a bad way at all, but - you look like every other citizen her carriage passes on her way through the streets. She's reminded all over again how important seeing you in her dream was

Because if you hadn't been pointed out to her, if your first proper meeting hadn't been you freeing her from three years of nightmare plagued sleep, she would have never thought to seek you out

So when the you from the past seems surprised to see the elusive Countess, not nearly as well-known as her extravagant husband

All she really wants to do is thank you by showing you your worth

Muriel

Well. This is awkward. And that's coming from him

There's a well of emotions swirling in him as he looks at you, at the you that Asra left the hut to live with, at the you that took his only found family from him, at the you he came to resent

Because if the worst he can see when he looks at you is someone who captured more of his friend's attention than he did -

What do you see when you look at him?

The you from the past wouldn't have known him when he was retired and forgotten, the you from the past would've known him when he was a gladiator

Or more accurately, when he was the Count's executioner

He's not sure it's good for either of you to be looking at each other

But he can't turn away, and that's because not only do you not seem to be afraid of him, you won't stop looking at him

Your gaze feels the same. Exposing. Open. And though this one is considerably less affectionate - safe, somehow

Portia

She is both starstruck and deeply disappointed

Starstruck because the person she's looking at seems a lot more put together than who you are now, if a little less ... developed

Your magic hovers around you like an old friend and your eyes seem a little more sure about where they want to look

And that's exactly why she's also a little disappointed

Because you aren't like the person she loves now in that way. Who you are now is always looking, always soaking up the world around you like a sponge, because so much of it is still new to you

And nothing seems new to the past you - not even her

She's so happy to take your hands in hers and ask you all about who you've been and collect all the stories and fill in all the gaps she can, to better know how you got to where you are now

And then when the visit's over, she'll happily wave goodbye and walk forward to who you are now

But not without a word of encouragement to her darling first

Lucio

Oh. Ohhh boy

You see, he was fortunate to meet you when you knew fairly little enough to encounter him with an open mind. By the time you learned about his horrible past, you knew his present self

But past you ... past you seems to know quite a bit more

And he doesn't like the way you look at him

There's an edge of uneasiness to the way he plasters on a smile and loudly calls your name, only to be met with a gaze that's polite at best

You're not supposed to be polite to him, you're supposed to love him, to want him, to admire him when he's done good and call him out when he's done bad and forgive him when he tries to do better

At the same time, this is the version of you whose death he knows he's responsible for. It makes him wonder if he's a bad person for being relieved that you changed before meeting him

He'll be happy to leave - but he does manage an apology, first

[bonefall]

Stormclan is pretty cool, I’m glad they are a direct result of the clans and not Rouge Group 255674385 that pops up like Minecraft mobs at night

Didn’t ivypool kill beetlewhisker? Will they remember it

The mental image of playing minecraft and Darktail spawns on your roof like a spider, refusing to leave in the daylight and making annoying chittering noises, is magical thank you.

Anyway nah, that was Brokenstar. Ivypool killed Antpelt, not Beetlewhisker. I have doubts they're going to remember that though, and if they do, it'll be one of those "don't worry guys we TOTALLY remember the events in our series!" throwaway lines we've been getting recently. The type that's thought in her head or thrown out in passing, but doesn't significantly contribute to Ivypool's emotional struggle.

I think Ivypool's actually the part of this SE that I'm most apprehensive about, funny enough. StormClan's got me pretty excited, but my hopes kinda started falling when I found out Dovewing was going on the road trip. I do not like the story that the Erins tell between the sisters, and I feel like they keep getting forced together to "reconcile their differences" when it would make a MUCH more effective story for the two of them to not do that.

See, what I like about Ivypool is that she's grudge-holding and spiteful. I LIKE that she tried to leverage her sisterhood with Dovewing in ASC to try and make her manipulate her husband. I find the fact she tried to sabotage SkyClan's chances at the lake back in AVoS to halt Dovewing and Tigerheart's relationship, slighting her apprentice in the process, to be COMPELLING.

I ENJOY reading about Ivypool being nasty. Both a victim of the Dark Forest who was targeted because she felt alienated, and yet, someone who has found a way to use Clan culture's most unfair aspects to her advantage. She'll NEVER see herself as the bully she actually is, because in her eyes, she's permanently the underdog.

so... I just have absolutely no desire to see Dovewing and Ivypool be "close."

Every time it happens on the page, it feels like it's Dovewing desperately wanting her sister to not treat her poorly, or believe in her, or just stop actively sabotaging her life. Then, Ivypool realizes this after a while and displays emotional intelligence that feels unfitting for her character, and apologizes.

It feels forced.

Like it's just happening because the authors know the fans want it, and not actually what these two characters would do. You get me?

I don't want to see them reconnect. I want more bittersweet examples in WC where family members have irreconcilable differences, but now and then, there's that little twinge of love, that old spark that you pray, THIS time, could become a fire... but it doesn't. There's just nothing left to burn.

TL;DR I'm feeling overall meh about Ivypool's Heart but looking forward to seeing what StormClan's all about.

[meldingintheunderdark]

I wish the ultimatum was implemented and not limited to the Rite of Thorns and its other conditions.

Whenever the ultimatum is mentioned, especially on reddit or youtube, it's always about Minthara, rational and diplomatic, whereas Halsin is aggressive and cruel. Pure logic versus messy emotions. Some opinions are also based on Halsin supposedly being a raging drow racist (no).

Why would Halsin not be emotional though? It's about the horrible loss of the refugees, his druids, his animals and his Grove. It's about being a prisoner at the mercy of Minthara and the goblins. Who wouldn't be furious? Even without the Rite of Thorns, Halsin's anger would be warranted. Minthara shows no remorse whatsoever because, in her opinion, the Absolute forced her hand. Moreover, Minthara is also very emotional when she points out what Lolth and the Absolute cult did to her. They're simply expressing their emotions differently.

I'm persuaded some opinions I've read are undoubtedly skewed by the idea that logic is more valid than emotions. This archaic belief is still used to this day to silence the voices of marginalized groups, to disregard their righteous anger. Minthara, who appears calm and factual, seemingly has the upper hand over Halsin, who's emotional and stating his boundaries without compromise. If Minthara was the one outwardly emotional, I bet players would tend to think she's hysterical. Because she adopts an overvalued attitude too often demanded to make any dissident voice palatable, in control of her feelings and body language, she's right. And the big man mentioning his trauma, clearly emotional? He has no argument whatsoever. He's aggressive, he's unforgiving, so he's OOC. Are we talking about the same character? Halsin, who has just lost everything and everyone? Halsin, who's still not without sympathy? Halsin, who loathes to put the ultimatum to the PC? Halsin, who still thanks the PC and hopes to be proven wrong if he has to leave? Halsin is forgiving, but he isn't a forgiving idiot. Minthara is still a sadist. She isn't sorry. She hasn't changed. Why would he forgive her? Hence his "a viper cannot escape its true nature" statement.

People complain Halsin is bland, yet they can't tolerate his outbursts.

One is unrepentant and wants the destruction of the cult at all costs. One values life and fights to save Faerûn even if his demise is the sole outcome. Minthara is a skilled cutthroat. Halsin is self-sacrificing to a fault. The scene is so good. Two different individuals who will never see eye to eye. They're each other's antithesis. Their values are irreconcilable.

Minthara and Halsin are both extremely emotional and their arguments reflect their respective states of mind. Choosing Minthara or Halsin tells more about our own morals (or our character's) than their logic, or lack thereof. So disappointed the ultimatum will never be canon.

[angyo]

HOT DAMN ik i already said a bit abt csm 167 but i keep thinking of more extremely interesting shit here and the sheer inner turmoil in the shared body of asa and yoru

I was wrong, it's not yoru masterminding this. Maybe she is, but we've already got so many hints that yoru and asa are starting to rub off on each other, w/ yoru feeling asa's emotions and asa getting more nonchalant about death and killing. Everything until now has been a relatively clean merge, something neither of them even notices too much.

But denji is a jagged edge. Asa and yoru have very different approaches to love and interpersonal relationships. Asa being a sex repulsed and desperately lonely romantic and yoru being the embodiment of war, uninterested in love, & intimacy only being violence (because war).

The merging can't go unnoticed anymore, it's not just massaging red play doh into blue play doh anymore. Their feelings regarding denji and chainsaw man are so different and entirely irreconcilable the merge is hacking off a hand and painstakingly sewing each individual nerve and vein to the end of a fraying rope.

Here yoru is her usual uncaring self. Denji wants to lose his cock, so be it. Who cares, she's war, she's done worse and feelings never got in her way before.

When denji knocks the knife away that's a very asa face and reaction despite the scars showing it's clearly yoru. Yoru isn't this clumsy. It's not like denji peeled her hand open, he knocked it away and yoru wouldn't have such a loose grip on a weapon.

Yoru is shocked. This shouldn't feel too different from any other fight for her, why is she so shocked? I thought she was unaffected by emotion, so why would she feel even a second of confusion about hurting denji? It's like she's shocked at herself, and she reasserts herself by doubling down on the violence and gripping his balls. Doubt isn't like her, it must be a fluke. She'll finish it quick.

Once again, that is an Asa face with the yoru scar, immediately followed by yoru attempting to regain herself

And failing. This is yoru, why is she so confused? If she wanted to assault denji it wouldn't be unwarranted from War, but there's emotion in that kiss. She looks so shocked when she pulls back, this isn't yoru's idea nor is it asa's. Again it wouldn't be surprising if war decided to idk assert dominance by assaulting denji, but if that was her goal she'd be as confident and unphased as she usually is in fights. At worst she'd be angry if he didn't go along with it, but panicky? Confused? That's not like her

She's too emotionally involved to be yoru, but too sexual to be asa. This is the ugly joint of fraying rope and nerve endings. A girl neither asa nor yoru recognize as themselves and one they can't control as individuals. They are merging, but they can't merge into 1 whole person, they're so diametrically opposed in their views of interpersonal relationships that they can't fuse cleanly together and instead their jagged edges get smushed together with such force it makes a 3rd person they mutually hate and are unable to control.

Finally they split again and asa is so deeply fearful she takes over again. But despite losing the scar she keeps the horseman eyes, and the paneling splits her in half implying we are seeing both of their reactions here. And despite having seemingly been in control and making the decision to assault denji, asa and Yoru are equally terrified by what just happened.

This wasn't yoru raping denji then leaving asa to handle it. God that'd almost be better since at least then asa could blame her, but she can't. This was the ugly frankenstein joinery of yoru and asa acting here. Both individuals lost control of their shared body entirely while their desires were mangled and reshaped into something they find mutually disgusting but are forced to feel as enjoyment. Yoru experiences sensation and emotion she considers so far below her and is terrified by this loss of her devil nature. And asa is lost in indulgence of violent sexuality the likes of which she never could've previously imagined enjoying, let alone forcing onto the only person who ever gave a shit.

As a person she is so deeply concerned with morality and righteousness she won't even cross a red crosswalk with no cars around at night, but she's been forced to commit a crime so heinous as rape against the boy she likes and gain enjoyment from it.

It's so deeply violating not just of her agency but her existence as an individual it's hard to define in words, but i can only imagine asa scrambling away. Frantically she screams at yoru for fucking it all up so badly, only for yoru to be equally as scared and disgusted. This wasn't yoru's doing. This devil that has had such tight control of her for so long is completely clueless as to what the fuck even happened or why and points at asa because if it's not yoru it's asa yeah? But if they look deep inside themselves, they'll see that their reflection isn't them. Neither of them know who this is, and they can't talk to her or control her even as they get sucked into this singularity.

[shigayokagayama]

obviously this isnt about people headcanoning mob as having DID/OSDD because god knows representation for neurodivergencies that arent anxiety, depression, or the movie version of ptsd are lacking in media and being able to project aspects of yourself that you see in characters is really fun (god knows i love ocd blasting characters i relate to) but people treating mob and shigeo as two totally separate characters with two separate personalities is sorta starting to feel like it's missing the entire point of the confession arc.

like, "mob" is not the version of mob who does good things and "shigeo" is not the version of him who does scary evil things and hates everyone mob loves for no reason. theyre the same person. the conversation between them in the confession arc isnt a literal conversation taking place, it's a representations of his two desires which he has convinced himself are irreconcilable. "mob" represents his desire to keep his relationships with his loved ones- which he has convinced himself comes at the cost of repressing every aspect of his true self- and "shigeo" represents his desire to live freely and express himself as he wishes- which he has convinced himself means pushing everyone but tsubomi away before they reject him because he is absolutely certain that she is the only person in the world who will accept and love him for who he truly is. the friends he fights- teru, the body improvement club, reigen- are all people he's convinced only like the fake him and would hate the real him, and now they're trying to get in the way of the only thing he can even remember wanting because of how long he's squashed down and hidden away his own desires for other people's convenience.

if your friends, if the people you trusted, said this to you the first time you were exercising your own free will for the first time in years, wouldnt you snap a little too?

[anistarrose]

amnesia as a device for character analysis. which of their experiences left an effect on them, independent of their ability to remember the event? how much confidence do they have in themself, and how much is that confidence contingent on remembering the trials they've overcome? how do they construct their mental view of themself, and how do they react when new evidence contradicts that perceived self? how do they react when a "stranger's" perception of them is irreconcilable with their own perception? how desperate are they to remember? when they're not sure if they'll like what they find, or if they're even capable of finding it, how unwavering are they in their pursuit of the truth?

[txttletale]

You've spoken at length about how the Lancer setting is just wildly incongruent with what the authors think it is at length, and I agree wholeheartedly. My question is, largely for the purpose of if I ever want to run a game of it again, how would you make the setting carry that tone the authors think it has without too terribly much rewriting? Say, from the point of 'there was a revolution to overthrow seccom'? I love the 'gallant warriors of liberation in giant robots' and would like it if the game actually was that.

But the more the bureaucratic apparatus is “redistributed” among the various bourgeois and petty-bourgeois parties , the more keenly aware the oppressed classes, and the proletariat at their head, become of their irreconcilable hostility to the whole of bourgeois society. Hence the need for all bourgeois parties, even for the most democratic and "revolutionary-democratic" among them, to intensify repressive measures against the revolutionary proletariat, to strengthen the apparatus of coercion, i.e., the state machine. This course of events compels the revolution "to concentrate all its forces of destruction" against the state power, and to set itself the aim, not of improving the state machine, but of smashing and destroying it.

-- Vladimir Lenin, The State & Revolution

In the heady days after the revolution, the air buzzed with potential. The future was today. Hazy, gaseous dreams of liberation patiently awaited their turn to be forged into something you could touch. But those days didn't last for long. The coalition was already a fragile thing during the revolution, and now that it was faced with the levers of Union's imperial machine each hairline crack became a chasm. The corporate armies, who had marched under the banner of the enormous profits locked away behind Harrison Armory's legal monopolies, had reached their personal horizons and refused to move an inch further. The moderates and high-class intellectuals saw the wealth that Union funneled from its edges being distributed generously to the citizens of the Core Worlds and declared a new economic paradigm of post-scarcity and mutual wealth. The anarchist cells with their mysterious reality-hacking mechs were the first to come to the only inevitable conclusion: the revolution was not over.

Now that the old order had been surgically deposed, the new order was finding itself fitting comfortably in its throne. Humbled and stripped of its previous privileges, Harrison Armory was welcomed back into the halls of power under the smiling auspices of free enterprise. Groundbreaking legislation was still being written in the halls of ThirdComm--guaranteeing the right of worlds to self-determination, the rights of clones to live freely, even radical and heretofore-unthinkable proposals laying the groundwork for an end to NHP-shackling. But the old revolutionaries had grown weary and cautious (and, of course, had begun to personally experience the economic benefits of Union's vast hegemony). To enforce this legislation, they argued, would be a de facto redeclaration of war against the corpostates, a disaster for the trade networks on which our wealth depends. To those who still harboued the hopes of revolutionary change, this was a loud and clear signal: the war had not ended. The revolution was not over.

The All-Galaxy Revolutionary Front as it exists now is a set of strange bedfellows. The disciplined combat battalions of the Communist Party fly in perfect harmony, distinguishable by their red battle flags, mass-produced in collectivized forges with reverse-engineered corpo tech. The motley individual oddities that the anarchists call their mechs, their open-source physics-bending HORUS peculiarities, strike unpredictably, in and out of ThirdComm's sight. But the one thing which binds them all, as they fight for the liberation of the peripheral worlds, for the wealth of mines and factories to enrich the people of the planets they're built on instead of fueling ever-replenishing consumption in the distant Core, is that they still have those old revolutionary dreams.

This is what it means to be a Lancer: to be willing to struggle. To acknowledge that the revolution is not over.