#does this count as a character study?

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Robin never really got boys talk.

When Sarah turned 14 she invited all the girls in band for a sleepover. It started out fun. After her parents went to bed they put on a creepy horror movie and watched it in a huge cuddle pile. They braided each other's hair and did each other's nails and squeezed each other during tense scenes and muffled their shrieks after a sudden jumpscare.

After that they watched another one. This time Sarah sneaked her mother's makeup kit down to the living room, and so lipstick and eyeshadow joined the mess of nail polish, hair clips and snacks already on the floor.

The second movie was different. In the first one, the blood was obviously fake and the acting wasn't the best (to say the least). But the second one was tense through and through. The cries of pain were so visceral that Robin shuddered, and in the end everyone was terrified. It was silently and unanimously agreed upon that everyone had had enough TV for the night. It was already 3 in the morning, but tomorrow was the weekend and right now Robin wouldn't be able to sleep even if she wanted to, and thus began Robin's first real boys talk.

It was funny at first. Sarah pretended to die of heartbreak when "the blond hot one" was unfortunately the second to die. Heather said the nerdy one with glasses and abs was cuter, which started a very heated discussion of whether blond or brown is the more attractive hair color. Robin had to defend her correct "redheads" opinion all by herself.

(When the others got into a stalemate Sarah turned to Robin. "C'mon", she pleaded, "you know that the blond one was hotter. Just tell us which one you found prettier! And don't forget that this is my birthday party."

Robin laughed at the ribbing, played a bit hard to get, until she finally admitted. "I actually found the first one who died the prettiest." Sarah was already halfway through her victory dance, when Robin corrected her. "No, I don't mean the dude. I mean the first one. The girl with the pink purse."

Everything was silent for a moment.

Then Emma laughed. "You don't have to be jealous Robin", she consoled, "you are also very pretty."

"Yeah, especially after our makeover!"

Robin laughed and agreed and continued on as if her world just hadn't been turned on its axis. Because she knew that the stirring in her gut and the beating of her heart had nothing to do with jealousy. She didn't find the blond one hot or the brunet one cute. That was the first time she really knew it. She liked the girl.)

It was a bit funny the first time, even though she couldn't really join. It got less funny the more it went on. Suddenly boys was the only thing everyone wanted to talk about. And worse: it wasn't just unreachable famous boys like singers or actors anymore. Suddenly it was all "oh, Steve Harrington is sooooo cute" or "oh my god, Tommy Hagan had suuuuuuch a glowup" and "I want to lick the sweat of his body after basketball practice" (this last one was applicable to multiple different people, including Steve and Tommy. It was not applicable for Chrissy when she exited cheerleading practice or Beth after football.)

She thought it would get better when Emma finally confessed to her crush and they actually got together, but no. It somehow got worse. Because "normal boy talk" turned into "experienced boy talk", and Robin wasn't allowed to admit that the only thing that got wet when she thought of Billy Hargrove was her mouth, because he made her want to throw up.

At first she'd say that she didn't have crushes. After a while of people refusing to believe her (even if she was telling the truth! Sometimes.) she started pretending to be into Steve Harrington. Every girl had a crush on Steve, so it made sense that she'd been embarrassed to admit that she was just like everybody else. He was way too far above her league for her friends to force her to "confess" and she could stare without fear when he passed by in the halls with the beautiful Tammy Thompson in his arms. Truly, it was a brilliant plan. It didn't stop the boys talk, though.

So she became a tomboy. She joined football and she hung out with boys and she cut her long hair into a bob. She lost a bit of touch with Emma and Sarah and the others, but she tried not to think about it too much. Instead she threw herself into sports and started hanging out more and more with Matt, the second trumpet in band.

And that was that. Sometimes she missed wearing dresses, but it was a relief not to have her mother insisting she "do something about that hair" anymore. She and Matt became best friends. She even considered telling him for a while. Until he sat her down and confessed his feelings.

She tried to let him down as gently as possible, and they never talked again. The cycle would repeat for multiple times.

Someone out there is laughing their ass off because who would have thought that the dude she pretended to have a crush on would turn out to be the missing half of her soul?

It started out like always. She teased him, he laughed. They suffered through customer service together. He was funny and surprisingly in touch with his emotions and apparently babysat a bunch of middle schoolers, which was equally hilarious and adorable to watch. They both enjoy sports and they both hate Billy Hargrove with a passion and Robin is heartbroken because she knows she can't get attached. She has already been through this too many times to allow it to happen again. She gets close with a guy, they become best friends, he confesses, she can't reciprocate, they never talk again.

This is what is going to happen. She should already be used to it, but it still hurts. It's better for her to keep her distance. To encourage him to flirt with other girls, even if she can see that he mostly does it to amuse her.

And then they uncover an actual real life Russian spy network right beneath their place of work like some fucking blockbuster. And then they are pumped up with drugs and the next thing she knows is that they are both throwing up in a cinema bathroom.

And then it happens. Of course it happens.

He starts his little speech and her heart is already breaking. She surprises herself when she realizes how much she started enjoying Steve's company. He is a dingus, but she is also a dingus and they just fit.

She is already preparing her apology in her head (oh fuck work is going to be so awkward), but what comes out instead is what she wishes she could've said every time this happened. What she wished she could have said every time she got close to another person, every time her parents questioned if she finally found a boyfriend. Something she really tried not to feel ashamed of, but it was so fucking hard when you had to keep it hidden all the time.

(She remembers when she used to train in front of the mirror. She would stare at herself and repeat again and again "I am Robin Buckley and I am a lesbian. I am a lesbian. I am-")

She doesn't breathe as she waits for what she knows what comes next. What has to come next. There is a reason she never told anyone, always kept it hidden and to herself even if she wanted to scream it into the world. He will mock her and he will out her and he will be disgusted and-

"Tammy Thompson?!"

Instead they have girls talk. And Robin finally gets it.

[sapphicrow]

His Better.

(A lil Lady D drabble looking at her past)

———————————

Dear Diary,

Today is the anniversary of his death. Of his complete and total departure from my world. Those who remember him perhaps view this day as a day of mourning, though I must confess I feel no such grief. A buzz of vibrant elation hums in my chest. His portrait sits in the main hall once more for today, but if not for Mother Miranda’s command for it to be in such an honorable place it would be fueling the hearth that warms my feet as I indulge in sapphic erotica, plentiful goblets of wine, maybe even a maiden or four on their knees begging for an opportunity to breathe the same air as I. He would call me a heathen and a whore. I shall call him, with phony tears in my eyes, a victim of times of political unrest. Patricide may be the more precise term, but alas, I shan’t spoil my lovely day with scandal. Mother does not wish for the truth to be spoken. I suppose it is a fair wish. I may not speak it, but I find myself needing to release this memory from my head, lest it rot in there and I begin to feel sorry for the bitch.

My father was not a good man. He was barely a man. He was a nincompoop who took advantage of his station, and his staff, and his abundant liquor collection. He was not kind. It is not for this reason I resent him, for I can hardly claim to be kind either. I resent him for his failure as a count, and his confidence in his incompetence. I remember watching his fat, clumsy fingers struggle to button his lavishly crafted waist coat with contempt. I knew from a young age that I was a far better leader than he. That my own hands, nimble and steady from years of the pointless needlework noble girls were expected to do, were suited for the control he fumbled about with so terribly. For holding the throne. I remember being fifteen years of age, watching him bumble about his office in a suit lined with silk he did not deserve the softness of. The war had threatened to touch his territory. Even then I knew that securing assets would be a vital defense for the empire he wished to construct. He did no such thing. He simply ran around like a chicken with its head severed and defiled more maids in his stress. The only measure he took was of how many drinks he could fit in his bulbous stomach. I couldn’t fathom being so irresponsible. If his land in the Carpathian Mountains was threatened, was it not clear as day that he should be worried about finding other means to protect his legacy? I recall creeping into his office in the dead of night to look over the correspondences surrounding the war and his rule and the financials that were spread carelessly about the big oak desk, my heist backed by the erratic growl of his snores. I felt as if I had forged his signature hundreds of times, even if it was my very first act of blatant treachery. It still felt so natural to use his name for my own game. It wasn’t as if he was using it for anything useful. That night he wrote a very fine letter to the duchies nearby asking for an alliance through these trying times, though the recipients would question the flair to his cursive, as well as the fact that there seemed to be a scribbled out A before his signature. I would not let this incompetent fool ruin my holdings. I would have the power that was my birthright.

For years, I would conduct similar such maneuvers. It became a performance of sorts. The key ring would leap from his belt loop to my gloved hand, landing with a graceful turn into the lock of his office. My slippered feet would dance through the slimmest crack of the door so as not to let light from the open curtains spill into the other room. My night gown would sway with me, it became synonymous with the robes of a queen in my mind. I’d Chassé from the doorway to his desk, all too eager to begin my work. The moon and I became partners in this secretive dance, for she was the subtle light I remained loyal to, granting me sight of the papers I now held under my midnight authority. And so began the unofficial, unnoticed rule of the new Dimitrescu, though the old one was oblivious to how he’d been replaced. Thankfully the old fool was a drunkard and simply believed he had managed to make all of these lucrative decisions in his intoxicated stupor.

As if.

Looking back, I cannot help but laugh heartily at how bold I was. I am much too good. But a large amount of my amusement is pointed at the pure egocentrism of the man who named himself my father. How humorous the thought of a drunk man taking the time to send out the decrees I painstakingly assembler was. There was a time when this did not entertain me, however. It was no laughing matter when my father took all the credit for my success. I had heard so much praise on the account of his wise conduct of the county. Barons and dukes and alike bowed to him, preening in his presence as if he exuded some holy power.

I grew bitter.

I was the one making these decisions! I was the one keeping him together! I had created this man’s legacy in the dead of night and neither he nor his adoring fans knew this. It infuriated me. Dear Diary, I am ashamed to admit that even now I’ve cracked the stem of my glass reminiscing upon it. For lack of a more eloquent response to this situation, it just wasn’t fair! Surely if they knew the raven haired girl with his nose and ten times his wit trailing behind him was the one truly in charge, they wouldn’t grovel to him the same way. He would be forgotten like the sorry bastard he was while everyone kissed the ground I walked upon. But they didn’t know. And so I was just his daughter. A material object he constantly strove to rid himself of. It was infuriating, I tell you, infuriating! I could only feed off of second hand acknowledgement for so long.

And so, a plot came to be. Or rather, a hastily conceived idea. I did not spend fortnights planning his death. I did not weave a technical tale of coverups and falsehoods. There was no subtlety. I was sick of hiding. You call it a risk, I called it a need. A need for his blood coating my hands as soon as possible. It was the eve of a grand event- which one it was escapes my memory for there was simply no end to the monotonous parties I was dragged along to - but all I knew was that I couldn’t stand to see him grin so smugly with the acclaim he hadn’t truly earned even one more time.

This night was not a ballet. I did not dance on light feet through the halls. I near slammed the door of my chambers as I tore through the corridors. The moon could not illumine me tonight. She would take no pleasure in seeing him torn to pieces, though I certainly would. I was near frothing at the mouth. One could paint my likeness as the lycans that now hunger in the shadows of the village.

I opened his door and closed it behind me without an ounce of gentleness. Let them hear. My nightgown billowed around me like the dark cloaks death was usually depicted wearing. The old man could not hear me over his snores. I clutched the previously ornamental dagger in my hand and snarled at the sight of his peaceful sleep. I was not going to allow him to slumber through this. In my rage I punched through the glass of his window (I dimly acknowledged it would be a good alibi for the later accusation of assassins, but mostly I just yearned for his terror) to the sound of which he shot up. He looked around frantically and saw the face of his daughter as the blade plunged into him without the courtesy of a warning. It was a wet, nasty slide of flesh around the metal of my blade. It was the sickest form of penetration. It was my finest act of political assistance to his county. I grin now at the memory of his shock. His greedy mouth parted in disbelief. He croaked my name into the night and I twisted the blade deeper. I only remember the sound from me being something between a growl and a triumphant laugh. He tried to cry out and I pulled the dagger from his side and forced it down his throat the same way I knew he had forced his foul chode down the throats of unwilling maidens. His lips curved around it and I looked down at him as his fat body flailed in agony. He deserved this, I had thought as I shoved my hand past his teeth and drug the blade along the walls of his esophagus, he deserves to die. I am greater at thirty than he ever was at fifty. I am not his daughter, I am his better. That was my mantra as I pulled horrific noises from this man. It was the most pleasurable thing I’d ever done. I had expected at least some remorse, but seeing him bloodied and dying brought me nothing but glee. I watched death tear him from his hideous form and I did not relent. I stabbed again and again until I felt calm. I had three decades of pent up anger to get out, so he was long dead before then. He looked like an oversized meatball when I was done, limp in the bed he spent most of his lazy fucking life in.

My white slip was dyed red with vengeance. This was my coronation long before I ever received the crown. I still keep that gown as a momento, though it is now far too small.

Today I contemplate that garment with all its dried blood and crusted on innards. Perhaps I have a wardrobe filled with fine dresses, but none is as fine as that one.

Can a normal dress be stained with the moment you gained independence? Can it tell the story of the rise of House Dimitrescu? Since that day we have done nothing but prosper. Even a century later I do not regret it.

Dear Diary, I am Alcina Dimitrescu. I am a cruel woman. I am power. I am not his daughter. I am forever his better.

[lacrimosathedark]

SOMEONE needs to get on Angel Dust & Vox content.

Not a ship, but just their whole dynamic could be so interesting.

Both Angel and Vox are connected to Valentino. Both of them, for lack of a better phrase, fuck with Valentino. But they have such different dynamics.

What they have in common (besides sex):

They're both used to Val's violent temper.

Both are unafraid to stand up to him if necessary

Differences:

Since Vox is stronger and on more even footing, he sees Val less as a threat and more as an annoyance when he acts up.

(I love that second scene Vox's face makes me laugh every time)

Vox has also learned non-violent ways to pacify Valentino where Angel...can't do that.

Angel, however, has reason to be afraid. Val owns him and can do whatever he wants to him. For the most part he's less scared and more miserable, but there is fear.

Angel's abuse has led him to inflating Val's strength in his own mind. This leads him to being protective of people who could feasibly kick Val's ass, putting himself in harms way to keep them safe from him.

Vox doesn't have anyone to protect from Val, really. The only others we know he cares about are Velvette and Alastor. Velvette is part of their team and used to this shit, and Alastor could not give less of a fuck.

Angel also has somewhat healthy relationships while Vox only has the Vees and his obsession with Alastor, which is also distinctly aggressive.

I have so many questions though.

Is Vox jealous of Angel being Val's main carnal focus? Did Angel ever envy Vox because he got to see a nicer Val more often and wasn't bound to his will? What do they think of each other? Has Val hurt Vox? I mean we know he can swap his head out for different monitors, could Val have broken his face at some point? Does Angel know?

Could Vox and Angel have any kind of connection from the abuse Val puts them through? And how would that dynamic effect their other relationships?

The closest we have to an interaction between them is this in Poison

Vox is holding Val's hand less like a handshake and more like kissing his hand. He sees Angel and stops whatever he's saying, and his smile drops. Then he gives Val an I'd almost call it a soft look, and then he zaps off.

There's also those lines on his face. Those aren't the same lines Vox has when he's worked up.

It's the other side of his face.

But also if you notice, both Val and Angel have something coming out of their mouths in this scene too. (this gif is Angel having wiped it off on his hand, you can see the droplets)

Seemingly, this is Val's saliva...ew.

I've seen people theorize Val's spit works like an aphrodisiac or has some other kind of soporific effect. I've seen people suggest it's an ingredient in Velvette's love potions.

Point being, it's a physical manifestation of the "poison" Angel is "addicted to", "choking on", and "full of".

The implication on Vox being that he's being poisoned too.

And there's just...something about this that has me thinking.

I just think they could be a fun dynamic to explore.

[dr4wingfranciss]

Lucy Gray used Snow, and even if she felt a little bit of "love" towards him, it quickly vanished when she met him again in 12.

AND THAT'S COMPLETELY FINE

When they first meet, she's literally lecturing him and giving him passive-aggressive comments over his "good will of meeting her and helping her as her designated mentor in the Games". She knows he's doing it for something else, but can't quite figure out what it is. So, she doesn't trust him, not even when he offers her a rose and tells her all those explanations that were basically useless for her. And her way to show her distrust is with sarcastic and mocking comments against him and his attitude. Because he's just a Capitol guy who showed up to the train station to "help her", when she just arrived to the place where she's going to probably die. She's stressed, affraid, tired and done with everybody's shit, plus, the fact of Snow showing up and trying to impress her just adds more stress, and she immediately catalogues him as useless.

However, when Snow gets into the truck with the rest of the tributes, she realizes he's being deadly serious about him "wanting to help her", or at least wants to convince her. That gives him off. And that gives her the idea of her life: using him to win. Because, in the end, he's literally doing the same. He's using her and her 'marketable appearance' to win whatever he wants to win. That is useful for her, so she decides to take the opportunity. She defends him from the other tributes, and allows him to present her to the journalist at the zoo. Along with that, she plays her role as a 'pretty and charming district girl' to win the crowd. Because she knows that's also going to help. She grows closer and closer to Snow because she wants him to trust her. She still doesn't trust him completely, but trusts him enough to cooperate at the tribute-mentor interviews. And she tells him very clearly what's the price for her to continue with the marketable appearance show: a guitar. She's going to use all his influence and power in the Capitol to her convenience, mainly due to the fact that he's decided to make her win.

At the Arena bombing, she saves his life. She does this because she's not a monster. She values his life. She thinks and knows he 'deserves' to live, and she needs him. Without him, she's screwed. When the interviews the night before the Games happen, she sings a song after realizing that the Capitol loves a show. The Hunger Games are a show, and she's just another performer in them. Besides, she likes to sing and express her feelings and thoughts through music (it's what she had been doing her whole life) and she perfectly knows how to move a crowd with words. Her song is not just a message for Billy Taupe, but also for the Capitol people. What are they going to do when their beloved songbird dies in the arena? What is him going to do about it? She knows he has grown attached to her, and she had done it as well. Maybe a little less intense, but she appreciates how hard he works "for her". Also, she knows he has a plan, and that he's going to do anything in order for her to go home. Back to 12. Back to the Covey.

During the Games, she watches Jessup die, and knows that Lysistrata and her own mentor have something to do with it. And then the snakes arrive. She knows she can't fight them, but remembers what used to happen with the snakes in 12: they calm down when she sings to them. So she sings, hoping the Capitol snakes would do the same. And they do the same. But then the snakes keep calm and don't attack her, even if she stopped singing. She realizes Snow actually did an enormous thing to help her survive them. He saved her life, even if that meant risking the Plinth Prize and probably his own life as well. By that action, she notes that he is actually devoted to do whatever he needs if it means keeping her safe. She has him eating from the palm of her hand. And so she kills Treech with the snakes. She waits for Reaper to also fall, and when he does, she realizes she's finally free.

She won the Tenth Hunger Games...

But she cheated. She drowns in the guilt as she's taken out of the Arena, and when the Dean Highbottom goes to meet her at the train station and explains her the whole deal with Coriolanus, she feels relieved. She can get rid of him. She doesn't need him anymore, and he doesn't need her. She can go back to her normal life, even with the survivor's guilt living inside her forever. Because she survived and can be free like she always wanted to.

And then, Coriolanus Snow shows up at Twelve.

He came to reunite with her. She's not free from him and his obssesive love. But, she tries to love him back. She tries to push all the manipulation aside and tries to love him the same way he seems to love her. It doesn't work. She can feel something weird with him, deep down. And the first time she witnesses a glimpse of that disturbing thing is when he shoots Mayfair. He killed her. He tells her that he did it because she was going to call them out, but it still upsets her a lot. First, he kills Bobbin, and now Mayfair, the girl who got her reaped. Even after that, she wants to trust him, so she slightly believes it. She takes her precautions though, since she knows that the peacekeepers and the Major are going to think that she killed Mayfair. She has to scape, and she wants him to come with her, because he's also going to be hunted down. And because he's very capable of saying that she was responsible for that murder if it means that he would be safe. So she takes him with her. Few moments after their scape, she realizes what's wrong with him.

He betrayed his 'best friend'. He revealed his intentions of rebelling against the Capitol and the Games. Of course that's the third person he killed. So the small glimpse of trust that started to appear in her quickly vanishes. Because, if he betrayed Sejanus, the person he "trusted the most", what stops him from betraying or even killing her? She needs to run away from him now. Not just from the Capitol, but from him as well. She makes him think that he fooled her, but in reality she's planning what to do. Where to go. The manipulation technic comes back, and she shows as sweet and calm as possible when going to pick katniss, but she's actually running away.

Lucy Gray never fully trusted Coriolanus Snow, not even in the end, when she needed someone to trust the most. She used him once, and did it again because she wanted to live. She wanted to survive and he was the only way she had to do so.

She took her chance and never let go off it.

[alle-ni]

My thoughts about goodomensverse (I'm clinically insane) (my personal opinion) (long post)

Book Crowley:

- absolute disaster

- lonely boy

- grumpiest

- he's so in love with Aziraphale but didn't even realised yet

- a bit dumb sometimes ngl

- very tired

- he's trying so hard save earth and everything he knows but everytime he tries to explain why it's always AZIRAPHALE

- sometimes he's like... your old gay uncle, the old gay uncle of the family except it's a 6000 years old gender fluid demon

- HISS LIKE A SNAKE GANG

- got called dear once and them died (figuratively)

Radio Crowley:

- flirty

- "Humm have you ever seen me in a dress~~??"

- he's like flirting with Aziraphale 24/7

- 0 patience this man is a BOMB

- if Aziraphale ever EVER got slightly flirty with him back he will EXPLODE

- smartest of them all, he's very intelligent

- HISS LIKE A SSSSSNAKE GANG

- he's so in love with Aziraphale and it makes him SO FRUSTRATED

- his Aziraphale is the hardest one to reach, maybe this is why he's so deliberately obvious and direct with him (he's resilient, he will never give up)

- he's like a tsudere teenager collegial except he's a 6000 years old demon with serious issues

- not called dear yet poor soul </3

TV Crowley:

- SILLY

- he's the dumbest of them all, sorry 😭

- red hair

- he's so in love with Aziraphale and everyone notice it's SO OBVIOUS

- he's the most affected by The Bookshop Burning ™ event

- the only one who got to kiss the angel, good for him ig, or sorry, idk

- anxiety bomb he literally (literally) EXPLODE

- strongest soldier bc his Aziraphale is IMPOSSIBLE

- got dumped 2 times more than the others someone pls help him

- the most brave tho

- doesn't hiss a lot :/ free him from this madness let him hiss

- he's like a puppy with giant yellow eyes except it's a 6000 years old snake demon that lies all the time

- protective as hell this man wouldn't let anyone near Aziraphale if possible

- got called dear but at what cost??????????????

Book Aziraphale:

- Anxious all the time, religious trauma except the god is your father and he left you and never talk to you again and the guard angels are your siblings and they want you do be dead

- He's so soft he wants so bad to comfort Crowley but he's really hard to reach

- his Crowley is the most difficult of all of them, he needs to circle him a lot to get in touch

- this man got called names so often I don't think he even cares anymore

- he's very nerdy

- he's the calmest of them all

- really chill

- everyone is so mean to him for no reason

- he has 1 braincell tbh and it's really bad bc his Crowley is not that brilliant too they're both stupid sometimes

- he really REALLY wants to be with Crowley and Crowley only, he sounds almost obligated to be with heaven

- he is really kind to others even when they don't deserve

- he called Crowley dear once and then implode

Radio Aziraphale:

- full of himself

- bastard

- the most closed and oblivious of them all

- he tries to play cool with Crowley all the time (he's slowly getting insane and someday he will jump on this man)

- he's the most self sufficient one he barely holds on Crowley to anything and they're pretty independent

- Crowley can say shit like "Miss me angel~~??" and he would keep a bored face and not react at all (he screamed with the walls 4 hours later)

- he's also a tsudere collegial but he at least try to look cool and composed in public

- he's the Aziraphale that most believes in heaven, he's sure they are good and selfless and the right side

- he's not so brilliant tbh but he got a lot of spirit

- the most active Aziraphale ?? He really put his hand in the dirt and do the things alone

- the most angry and bad tempered of them all, bro scream "WE ARE CLOSED LOOK AT THE DAMN SIGN" when ppl barely touch the bookshop door

- he has a lot of patience with Crowley, not deserved tbh bc he thinks it's his personal job to get in Aziraphale's nerves

- overall he is polite

- he's really proud of their "arrangement" there not only one chance he let go without saying that

- he likes to provoke Crowley sometimes too but not as much as the other way around

- if he ever call Crowley dear he will explode

TV Aziraphale:

- bitchiest

- this man need to be sedated what the fuck Aziraphale

- most nuts of then all he's CRAZY

- he's the most up to do shit with Crowley they're insane together

- he doesn't let Crowley rest he is flirting and being cute and hitting on Crowley all the time

- he's so obviously in love with Crowley its embarrassing

- he's the fruitiest he's the entire salad

- the most... indulgent, if I can say, of them all

- more like an employer of heaven, different of book Aziraphale

- he's the only one with almost white hair

- he got kissed but at what cost

- he's the most intelligent of all of them how can he be this dumb

- he loves little things about earth and humans and life and he seems to be the Aziraphale that most love EARTH itself, like, the life, the humans, the food, the little pleasures we have, the little time of happiness we have between all the shit that is happening... he really loves humans <3

- he's conflicted about heaven, he seems to know that there's something WRONG with how heaven works but still doesn't understand what exactly it is

- "oh but saving me makes him soooo happyyyy~~~"

- overall kind and sweet, in a excited way

[czlowiekz1nogawgrobie]

Okay so hear me out.

It might be because my brain is wired weird but I never quite got the "How would a melody describe itself?" quiestion. And not in the sense that it's just nonsensical and that's how it's meant to be. But because the first time I heard it I just thought, "By playing its tune, duh.''

Like, yes, it not what most people think about when they hear 'describe yourself' but it's the only way it could. It doesn't have words, frankly it's hard to say it has enough sentience to have a concept of itself, but it has it's music, it's tune, and with it, it can describe itself. It's not conventional, it's not a way of describing everyone would understand but it's the only way could do it.

And I think that's kinda the point?

Michael can't describe himself how most people would understand so they do it the only way he now knows how. Through a vague metaphor that can't be easily understood if you use your logical brain for it. Because it's not meant to be logical.

He IS a melody describing itself. He IS playing their tune. It's just hard to understand that if you think it's a riddle with a logical solution, a question to be answered and not an actual description.

Or maybe I'm just over analysing XDD

[papaya-140]

Waiting for a Trojan War retelling about Patrochilles but it’s different…

…but honestly I’m just putting down an AU at this point

Patroclus, kindest of the Acheans, feels sympathy for the captured Trojan women like in Silence of the Girls.

Patroclus, who acts as Achilles’ compassionate mentor (since he’s 1-2 years older), because King Peleus wants to balance his Achilles’ impulsive nature with Patroclus’ gentle patience

But! Patroclus’ heart is breaking because of Achilles’ period accurate misogyny. Achilles emulates the other men in their behaviors, causing their relationship to fracture in their heated arguments on treating women like property or people

Patroclus remembers their childhood and growing up together, and wonders where on earth is the boy that would do anything for him?

Where’s the charming boy that would make him laugh?

The boy that he taught the importance of kindness and compassion to?

He looks deeper, and to his horror, it’s the small slivers of light that pop up in the dark war monster that Achilles has become.

The way he looks at him. The way he gently wipes the blood off of Patroclus’ armor. The way he holds his hand during an anxiety attack after returning from the battlefield. The way he stays for him.

How could this be the same man? he wonders. Wrathful and horrifying Achilles, both kind and gentle.

Patroclus pines for the good old days, à la Song of Achilles, but he cannot ignore Achilles’ war crimes and treatment towards women.

Neither can Patroclus ignore the blood he has shed as a warrior and as Achilles’ second in command.

He doesn’t even realize his own actions- participating in keeping captured Trojan women (in his attempts to save them from other men)- still perpetuate a cruel systemic practice of enslaving women. Patroclus still remembers stopping Briseis from mourning her dead family.

He remembers the look on her face.

It tears him apart.

Patroclus just wants the past back. But war says otherwise, and shows him the worst sides of men and the worst of Achilles. And worst of all…

It shows the worst in him.

Just… morally grey Patroclus, my beloved!

Can I see this in a retelling for once?!

[ghoulisheous]

The term overshadowing in fics or in the show always strikes me as v intentional, when it comes to Danny. Like out of all the powers Danny has. That one has to be the one with the most moral ambiguity.

But Danny always seems a little too at ease about using it. We've seen him use it seriously in dangerous situations. But also more casually too. Because Danny can be very petty at times

Which just brings me back to my point. He always calls it "overshadowing" instead of what it actually is. Possession. And it just feels like an attempt at sanitizing it, for Danny (And correct me if I'm wrong. But I don't think it was ever called possession in the show. Probably to keep it as kid friendly as possible. But I think it's an idea that can be applied to Danny's characterization too)

Danny doesn't think he's a bad person. And he's not. He's 14. He works hard. He takes on so much responsibility that no one ever asked him to take on. But he's 14. And he's also grumpy, and petty, and immature. Sometimes he makes mistakes.. and sometimes he makes very intentional, very bad decisions. Because he has far more power than a 14 year old should have

But I don't think he can think of anything he does as really bad or evil in any way. And that's normal. Everyone sees their own best intentions first and foremost

So he doesn't call it possession. He's not malevolent. He's not evil. He doesn't hurt people like his enemies do. He's not blindly following an obsession that leads to hypnotizing crowds en masse, like Ember. He doesn't feed off misery, like Spectra. He's not like Vlad, or Skulker, or any of his other rouges.

So it's not possession

It's just overshadowing.

It's different.

At least when he does it

[cyborgghost]

Since Enki's writing in found in Prehevil that means he left at some point to share/publish his writings... and I wonder, did Nosramus leave with him or was he too scared to get outside the Dungeons after so many centuries? Some people spend *decades* imprisoned and never readjust to living among society.

Nosramus seems to know his way around the dungeon just fine but I wonder if he became agoraphobic with time. He found enlightement and studied ancient books, but was he afraid of not understanding the modern world?

Enki wouldn't ask him to leave with him, or at least he wouldn't insist on it. I think he'd passively aggressively threaten Nosramus of never coming back. Nosramus wouldn't budge and wish him good luck on his pilgrimage.

But Enki would come back. They'd miss eachother too much but neither would admit it...

Ah, something about inmortals in love :( <3

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Martin had had exactly one relationship that miraculously lasted for longer than a month. It is kind of funny. He knows his mom has fucked him up, knows that his every thought and action is tainted by that woman. She has made him long for solitude while being terrified of loneliness. She has made him beg for affection while resenting the person he willingly demeans himself for. She has raised an aching mess of contradiction and doesn't even have the decency to look her own abomination in the eyes. She was forced to raise and put up with him through poverty and sickness and sometimes he can't even bring himself to feel the proper gratitude she deserves. It was her responsibility as his mother to take care of him. She was sick and she deserved better than to be forced to live with a fuckup like him for so long.

(He used to daydream about what it would be like to live together. With Jon. His dreams were always warm and fuzzy and bubblegum pink and completely unrealistic. Because in reality Martin simply wasn't built for a domestic life. And his boss also absolutely hated him. That was half of his appeal, after all.)

His name had been Tim. It was not the same Tim that would become his coworker, although his heart did stop in dread for the first month or so whenever he heard the name. Both Tims had been remarkably similar. They both loved reading and they both forgot everything around them when they were focused on a particular topic and both were loyal and nerdy and friendly and conflict avoidant. Both looked happy whenever they saw him. They moved in together, and Tim made both of them coffee every morning (Martin never told him that he hates it) and sometimes surprised Martin with his guilty pleasure (funny shaped pancakes with chocolate drips and condensed milk) and did half of the chores always on time and without complaint (he playfully scolded Martin whenever he put the responsibility to keep the entire house clean and functioning on himself alone). He was always the one to go to the supermarket (Martin hates going to the supermarket) and he never misgendered or deadnamed him (if it is so easy why could his mother never-). It was perfect. And Martin absolutely hated it.

Because he had been molded for years and years until his edges were too jagged for a comfortable life. He didn't fit into a good and healthy relationship. He is wasn't built for it, his shape is all wrong. He is always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and when it doesn't, he throws it himself. He can't help it. (It runs in his veins.)

Whenever Jon would be way too harsh because of a minor mistake, Martin's heart would jump in elation. And, shamefully, whenever Sasha and Tim (the other one) tried to comfort and reassure him something inside him preened. People cared, so surely it couldn't be as impossible to like him as his mom had always implied. (He just needed to keep it up).

He secretly relished Jon's meanness because it meant that the world would end before the other liked him back. (Oh the irony). It was a comfortable place, or at least as comfortable as a twisted form like him can manage. As long as Jon sneered at his every move and refused to drink his tea, Martin could continue his daydreams. Because they were impossible, which meant they weren't real, which meant that they felt good. And sometimes these stupid fake dreams where both Jon and Martin became people that don't really exist were his only reprieve from real life.

(It had been his choice to break it off. With Tim. It had been his choice to move apartment. It had been his choice to live alone. And oh, how Martin does hate the loneliness.)

Living with Jon is not like the dreams he would escape to whenever day-to-day life became too much.

Living with Jon is waking up with a bony elbow pressed against his chest. It is finding long strands of hair in every nook and cranny and it is being permanently banned from the kitchen and it is not quite getting most of his jokes and it is also being reminded of his lack of higher education sometimes (he knows that Jon doesn't mean it, that it is just Martin Blackwood making everything harder for himself like always, but it still stings). Sometimes they go to bed angry and sometimes they can't bear to look in the mirror or at each other and sometimes they need to feel each other - skin against skin - or they feel like they are going to die. It is not perfect, sometimes Martin wishes he still had a flat for himself alone, but that is what makes him love it. That is what makes it real. Martin Blackwood Hello Jon apologies for the deception -

[fishhateme]

okay fine let's address the elephant in the room i've abandoned this blog BUT i needed to cope after singapore yall after a good two months of no contact with any media of my pookie danny and the subsequent exposure to THE maxiel paddel date (ft. temporarily adopted paddel prodigy??) i'm ready to be back on my bullshit

this time? angsty introspective danny and max comforting him, aka ao3 hasn't been hitting and im in crisis

if it sucks it's because i haven't written fanfic in ages (started uni and it kicked me in the teeth, the only reason i can justify spending time on this is because at this point it's a Coping Mechanism™)

also i know the whole part things is a pain in the ass but tumblr wont let me write posts as long as i want them to idk i hate technology i was born in the wrong century (id rather die of the black death at 20 than have to deal with hyperlinks again thanks for asking)

read it here

[aq2003]

like i'm trying to find the words to explain why i found don juan in soho to be so profound and interesting but all i'm coming up with is "they stabbed dj in the dick and when he comes back up to do the curtain call you can see the blood on his pants 10/10 attention to detail and commitment to the bit"

[thorn-rosed]

there's something christian / catholic in all versions of my rosekiller. i dont care what earth this is, guys. you're having a deeply complicated relationship to god.

fallenangel!evan x priest!barty

Evan was supposed to deliever a message to some random priest. it was an honour to be allowed on earth as an angel, you had to be outstanding. The message read "dont trust those who dont even acknowledge the bad", and evan didnt really think about it too hard. But when events on earth were unfolding, he realized that God had been in his way the whole time. He was the one Barty wasn't supposed to trust. Luckily, Barty didn't give a fuck and from that day on, Evan wad filled by a deep hate by God. The almighty took Evan's whole life from him and tried to take away his one safety boat too. And this was supposed to be the one millions of people trust and love? No, Evan decided to never trust him again.

Meanwhile Barty never really lost his faith. Sure, over time he became bitter towards God, and the more he got to know Evan, the more he resented the almighty. Yet he still believed in the ground principles and teachings of the bible. When he hit rockbottom, Barty prayed to God because he knew no matter what, God would take him back. He didn't know how or if the entity ever listened, but he knew that if He did, He'd be there for Barty and help him. After getting close to Evan and occasionally consuming his blood, God would be able to communicate with Barty. This was the craziest turning point in his life. Now, everytime he prayed, he'd make sure god would listen and wait for answers and help. Barty knew that this relationship wasn't the way it was supposed to, he knew he should give more into it, but at the same time, there was no way he'd actually worship God. Getting advice? sure. believing his existence? Yes. But respecting it and active support? No. From week to week, Barty lost his trust more and more, and even though he'd never give it up completely, he dishonoured his extremely catholic family by breaking all the rules and not giving a fuck about morals.

vampire!barty x scientist!evan

Evan had never been religious, God was just a concept that people made up to feel better about themselves. But when he tried to summon a demon, his intention was to ask how the true god was like, so Evan could live and believe the truth. over time, his Catholicism increased steadily, despite the horrible things he did to others, he read and studied the bible, prayed and went to church / confession once a week. Because God was real, and even if Evan would go to hell for murder and torture, he'd get into the good parts of it, because trusted gods plan. He'd probably say smth like "Obviously i killed thay guy! Last night, god told me to do so, its all part of his plan!" and if someone said that was blasphemy, Evan would answer with "I'm allowed, im catholic".

Meanwhile Barty... you would say that since he's been to hell and is hyperaware of God's existence, he's catholic or at least satanic (after all he knows satan personally and can't talk to his hell-bestie on earth anymore) but no. He doesn't pray to anyone, and he won't ever start. He says he loathes God for taking his mother away from him and forcing him to be tortured all his life... At this point Evan doesn't know who Barty even is, so the whole time he's like "????". But they figure it out at some point :) Yet, it makes him genuinely angry that Evan is becoming religious because of him. Why would the love of his life pray to the one entity that hurt him so much? God and their opposite views on him are some of their only fight points. While all Barty sees in God is a fake saviour who is lying through his teeth, Evan acknowledges His flaws, yet praises him for the good things. He doesnt care about breaking the rules - he's thankful for not being in jail and he's thankful for meeting Barty.

They both arent near perfect and neither of them has a "healthy" relationship to God, but I don't think that's possible in any universe.

Summary

Both versions of Rosekiller has one person that is more religious than the other one. While fallenangel!evan x priest!barty built on religion and wouldn't be able to exist without both of them being religious, there is no technical need for scientist!evan to become religious. vampire!barty might've showed him that hell is real, but there was no "real" reason for him to convert to Christianity, read the bible and confess. He knew that no matter what he did, he wasn't ready to change his behaviour for anything or anyone and would end up in hell anyway. I think, for him God was like a parental figure that had been missing his entire life, and before vampire!barty met him, scientist!evan knew he'd get no answer and wasn't even ready to try and become religious. But now that he could get an answer through vampire!barty, who showed him spells for contact, he felt like this was everything ever missing. A neglected child finally getting attention from the parent it needed his whole life.

Personal notes

The reason for Christianity/Catholicism being the only religion represented is because it was one I grew up with and I know the most about, also due to most of my friends being Christian. I would love to see people headcanon the skittles/marauders as other religions too, I simply didnt want to give misrepresentation.

[evasiveagaric]

I have a physical reaction every time i think about the queercoding of Dave at the end of homestuck. My roommate and I were reading it and i kept having to take a moment to think “holy shit, is he coming out??? is that what we missed on the meteor round 2?”. I don’t keep up with Andrew Hussie news bc i don’t really like him as a person, but the whole talk with Egbert on the lillypad makes me think Hussie either was really close to a queer person or queer himself with just how accurately he wrote Dave talking about the queer experience, even if he doesn’t actually come out in that part. It doesn’t feel like queerbaiting either bc it bc fits with Dave’s characterization and how hard it is for him to talk about anything sincerely.

I don’t want to downplay the importance of Dave realizing the thoughts Bro instilled in him about how a man should act in favor of speculating about his sexuality tho. Not wanting to be a stoic hero of man who doesn’t have attachments or be soft with anyone is a huge part of Dave’s characterization and character arc. I think they go hand in hand tho, his struggles with toxic masculinity and his sexuality. I think the conversation was blatantly about both while Dave gave himself an out to pretend it was just about one. And he didn’t even do that.

I’m about to get hella pretentious and read way too much into things under the cut. More rambling about Dave’s character arc as a whole and nitpicking of dialogue towards the end of homestuck down below.

Future peepaw edit: this turned into a fucking play by play essay, my bad

Out of order but I also want to talk about his characterization as a whole.

Homestuck Mobile formatting jumpscare:

He’s willing to talk about another guy’s feelings. Romantic ones. for someone at the time presents as a guy. It doesn’t even feel like he’s joking. 13 year old Dave would never.

And this happens before all the stuff i mentioned earlier, showing exactly what he talked about. I honestly don’t think any other character has an arc like Dave’s. Which, seeing as Dave is a fully fleshed out complex character that makes sense, but I mean in general. I have consumed a lot of media, i’ve consumed a lot of queer media too. I’m really into the history of queercoding and how it relates to representation. I don’t think I’ve seen a character arc quite like Dave’s, especially in relation to sexuality and toxic masculinity.

Egbert assumes that Dave’s being a dick on purpose, and Dave rebukes it so strongly he uses an exclamation point. In a series where how people type is kind of a big thing, Dave’s frequent lack of punctuation is a nod to his “cool guy” facade, the lack of tone indication part of the “mystery” a cool guy has to be surrounded with. So, the fact that he feels strongly enough, or has loosened up enough on the cool guy show no emotions routine speaks to his self reflection. Of course this is stated literally a few more dialogue lines down, about how much time he spent on the meteor thinking about societal norms and his Bro’s teachings but the fact that it’s sprinkled in before hand too makes it feel less like it’s come out of the blue, or that it’s out of character.

“yeah we coulda talked about this” says so much. Not only to his relationship with Karkat (romantic or not, i’m a Davekat shipper but that’s not what i’m getting at here) but just how far he’s come with getting close to others. Not to mention the fact that it’s implied that they talk at least somewhat frequently about heavy and deep issues such as feelings for other people definitely feels like a major shift in Dave’s character, one for the better.

He’s probably been vulnerable with Karkat in a way that he never was with anyone as a kid. They talk about things. They talk about important enough things that Karkat’s past black crush on Egbert never coming up probably feels a little strange, hence Dave asking if he’s been thinking about it all this time. He has that connection with Karkat, which is important bc Karkat is masculine presenting. I’d bet money that Bro would not have approved, regardless of them just being friends or not.

That level of vulnerability? Not immediately calling Karkat gay and dunking on him? Treating what would be seen a gay relationship as completely normal and not even something to bat an eye at? 13 year old Dave WISHES he had the emotional maturity Dave has now.

He even encourages Karkat to hold on to those feelings bc Egbert expressed that they could hate people, at least platonically. Egbert even calls him out, saying he sounds like he’s being a dick about it and Dave says he’s being real.

Not to mention he kind of forgets that Egbert “isn’t a homosexual” at this point, that or he suspects Egbert isn’t straight in some capacity. I think he has less hang ups about queerness than Karkat does at this point. Or at least less hang ups about being honest. It feels fitting for his character and i’m sad that most of that character arc is off screen. I get it tho, writing meteorstuck round 2 would have made homestuck significantly longer most likely.

In conclusion: I like Dave and his character arc too damn much. I have to go to work now, i was not expecting to have this many thoughts about it and i’ve rambled enough.

[jilted-love]

I need to write a fanfiction about Yusuke's death that goes like "Yusuke knew he only died twice. But to the people who mourned for him, he was still dying everyday whenever they closed their eyes and saw his open heart bleeding in a cave. Death visited them and it never left."

[macaronibones]

this is a rant post btw, finale of wkm

okay. just rewatched wkm. i can understand Why celine and damien did that, esp if you believe that they were influenced to dump you in the mirror or whatever. i personally don't believe that hc, but dude. if i was the DA. i would be so PISSED.

two siblings, one of which was a very close friend you met in college (i think?) the other his sister, and they offer you some sort of hope after death??? for revenge, for their revenge, not yours, but how would you know that? its ridiculous, though you know this is your only chance to escape the void of death so why wouldn't you take the offer???

and then they fucking eject you from YOUR OWN BODY, and RUN OFF WITH IT. youre back where you started, except this void is limited and trapped, taunting you with cracked visions of the decaying world outside. like. i would be so pissed oh my god.