#how do you use muses

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

tbh i think that even unwinnable fights should be winnable. some of the BEST fights i've ever run as a dm were ones i built kill the players (in a fun way. I had some cutscenes prepped so even the loss would be a different flavour of win)- but then they were clever bastards and managed to either win the fights or pull themselves out of trouble. I think it's perfectly fine to plan for a fight that players aren't supposed to win, but you need to let them. if they can't win, they can't lose, and the meaning of that encounter is diminished. do that too many times, and they stop trusting you to give them roleplay prompts and start expecting to sit there waiting while you drive the story for them.

but if they can win... if there is always the chance to win, no matter how impossible the odds, then they ALWAYS have hope. they always get invested. they feel the big emotions of success or the big emotions of failure, and you fucking Win as a dm/roleplay prompter/lead bastard.

[camellcat]

some doctor who cyanotypes I made for my photography class that I just realized I never shared

[tinystepsforward]

ngl it makes me want to die a little bit that it's so often trans people who feel that sex is mutable but oppression is always-forever based on asab in ways that allow them to demand that information from other trans people. like it feels fucking bad. it feels bad when it's people holding up someone who posts a lot of selfies as transition goals to a degree they have to clarify what they have or haven't done or what "direction" they're going in, it feels worse when people are out there like "caster semenya is not tma" or whatever the fuck. i am, as always, not a trans woman, but here's a sentiment echoed by many of the trans women around me who log the fuck off, quoted directly from one: "people who draw a clear line where they say that semenya or khelif are tme and then call me tma are just calling me male at this point".

like i get it. i really do. we seek community and shared experiences, and we feel betrayed when people have less in common with us than we thought they did. [*more on this later.] but that's not those people's faults and my god in the case i'm seeing play out on twitter rn this poor person did absolutely nothing to intentionally mislead people, just posted pictures of their actual kid self. who looks a lot like i did, because shockingly enough "we can always tell" doesn't fucking work for trans people either!

on the one hand i move in intersex circles which are unapologetically welcoming in cis "dyadic" people with pcos, because it serves nobody to draw a clear line where mutilation or genetics or some ineffable childhood suffering are what make somebody intersex, especially when most of us (esp in places like nz) have never been karyotyped and are being treated for symptoms without a pinned-down cause anyway. the more of us there are the stronger we are, the more pressure we can exert on a medical profession which doesn't like to consider how common outliers are, how uneasy sex is at all. and then on the other hand there's dyadic trans people on the internet who've yelled me out of spaces because a couple of traumatised incarcerated trans women i worked with as a prison abolitionist assumed i was also a trans woman and i didn't immediately tell them my entire csa-involved history of being sexed in varying ways as an infant and child and/or exactly how big my phallus was at birth or where in my junk config my urethra lives so they could decide i was tme or whatever.

returning to the * for a related but not identical thought: i think presuming shared experiences leads to some fucked shit in general! "oh we all had a radfem phase" or "oh we all were channers" no we fucking weren't and it's particularly obnoxious when me & mine are trying to build trans community locally to organise and resist the growing wave of far-right backlash against our existence, and there's just white people in there on a spectrum from "straight up being antisemitic and trying to get the n-word pass" through "handwringing about how they need to make space for people who aren't politically correct" to "handwringing about how brown people are right to be mad at them but doing shit fuckall". and then the other fucking brown people in the space are on some identity politics shit where they're like "trans joy inherently excludes those of us who could get deported" or "big city white queers are killing us by being visible instead of going stealth bc it stirs up the discourse" or whatever the fuck i've heard pulled out this year. there's a bunch of reasons i primarily organise outside of trans spaces and that's one of them. i've never felt more alone in spaces where people claim we're all the same than being left as the brownest moderator or organiser in a space full of people to whom "this is a safe trans space" apparently means they get to abdicate all other responsibilities not to lapse into presumed shared patterns that are fucking racist or otherwise alienating. i've never felt more alone than surrounded by exclusively trans people who sort people into boxes and assume everyone in those boxes has the transition goals they have. like i was on cypro until it disagreed with me to the point of endocrine crisis and now i'm on t and at both those points people were so fucking presumptive or entitled to my reasons or journey or personal relationship w my body

literally just submitted on (and was invited to consult on) the nz law commission's review of the human rights act and like. it's straight up fucked how many nz trans people fully do not comprehend that any "sex assigned at birth" type definitions fundamentally exclude migrants who have no way of proving it and many intersex people who happen to have been reassigned later or many times or never assigned at all as a baby. we can't make law with this shit and that's why we have to have symmetrical protections for all genders/sexes/expressions/presentations, bc naming and defining a protected class here often leaves the people who already are left out from those shared experiences of marginalisation out in the cold when they face violence

[pridetempt]

what if we ... ???

[non-un-topo]

My Neekeys over the last two-odd years. I was curious to see the changes 🤔

[kusatta]

respectfully, if you don’t match my freak during plotting, it’s going no where.

[aparticularbandit]

One of Mikan's character notes is that she hates clothes that are too big and thus consistently buys things that are actually too small so that she doesn't have to deal with them being potentially too big.

But Mikan. Bestie.

Your beloved is the Ultimate Fashionista.

Junko's just over here making Mikan clothes that fit because Mikan has probably never had anything that fit right once in her entire life. Mikan, this is what clothes that fit feel like. Isn't that nice. Don't you want more of those.

Followed immediately by Mikan bought her own Ultimate Despair nurse's outfit that is absolutely too small.

[baalzebufo]

One Star, Brighter than the Rest

y'know what. im probably not gonna get around to writing more of this because im lazy but if it sits in my drafts forever nobody will see it so im posting this fic/drabble/thing. THIS IS for my demon gideon au.

Gideon, at the end of his rope, calls Bill to make a deal. But Bill has bigger plans. Much bigger plans.

---

‘I'm finally ready to make a deal.’

The walls of his solitary cell seemed to shift then, as the buzzing in his ears grew into a wild cacophony of laughter. Gideon stumbled backwards away from the chalk sigil on the wall, his vision blurring and swimming as the dream came into being. The crude drawing seemed to pulse, its single eye blinking. Then, a massive beam of light- Gideon shielded his eyes, and the moment his vision returned he was hovering there before him. Bill Cipher.

‘WELL, WELL, WELL! Look who came craaaawling back!’

---

The triangle squinted at him, throwing his hands up and watching the child flinch at his voice. Gideon felt his back pressed against the cold stone wall of his cell. He had no time to respond before Bill sprung forward.

‘Geez, you look haggard, shortstack! What's wrong, the warden giving you trouble again?’ His tone was mocking- his tone was always mocking. ‘One of your prison buddies finally got fed up and try to shank you? Oh, wait, my bad. That’s supposed to happen next week! Haha!’

Gideon swallowed hard. He couldn’t let Bill get to him. He had summoned HIM- he’s the one in control. He wasn't playing second fiddle to Bill, not now, not ever. He balled his hands up into fists and steeled his nerves, stepping forward with his nose in the air.

‘Listen to me, demon! I called you here because I- I want to make a deal!’ He glared up at Bill with an unearned confidence. ‘You messed up my plan last time, but I'm givin’ you one last shot to prove yourself to me! Y'all're gonna break me out of this joint!’

Bill's eye widened then, before he threw himself backwards into the air with laughter. Gideon seethed. His arms shook as he puffed himself up, standing on his toes. ‘Are you LISTENING to me? Do you want to make a deal or not!?’

He grit his teeth until Bill calmed down, wiping a tear from his eye.

‘Ohhh, kid! You're KILLING me here! You’re really killin’ me!’ He shook himself from side to side, tutting disappointedly. ‘I gotta say, your lack of imagination would be funny if it wasn't so sad, Gideon.’

‘My-’ All at once, rage flared up inside him. ‘WHAT?’ He roared, fully ready to throw one of his tiny fists into the ‘face’ of that smug isosceles jerk-

‘Don't you GET IT, KID?’ He hovered down to Gideons level, put one arm around his shoulders and tugged him in close. ‘You got a personal genie right here, and all you wish for is to get outta prison? Did you even READ my entry in that book you had? You’ve got NO idea what I’m capable of, and here you are, askin’ me for something you could do with one lousy prison riot.’

He patted Gideons shoulder softly. ‘Look, I get it! You’re probably just worn out from all that hard prison labor, aren’t ya? Your mushy little human brain isn’t working right! So I'll cut you some slack just this once. After all, we’re buddies, aren’t we? Haha, yeah we are.’

Gideon froze up, pushed himself out of Bills grasp. He squinted- then frowned. What was he getting at, here…?

‘What are you ramblin' about?’

Bill's laugh cut through him again. ‘You gotta think BIG, shortstack. Sure, I could help you outta this jail, or I could give you the power to do it yourself. I could make you just like ME!’ Bill threw wide his arms and little sparkles flew from his palms.

Gideon blinked, his jaw slightly agape. Bill took his stunned silence as an excuse to carry on his pitch.

‘I've been working on something special while you've been away, and I've got it all figured out! I could make you a bona-fide demon, kid! You could get my powers with all the perks. Think about it- getting into the nightmares of everyone who's ever crossed you, tormenting their every waking moment! Phenomenal cosmic power, right?'

'You're basically the perfect candidate, too. I mean, look at you-' He gestured vaguely at Gideon- for once in his life, speechless. 'You're almost crazy enough for it. I mean, hey, I saw that time you nearly gutted Pine Tree with those shears! In front of his sister, no less! That was DE-LUXE, kid. No hesitation. You've got the murderous ambition to really go far.'

'Honestly, you're probably the only person in this lousy town who could HANDLE this kind of power. So hey, just this one time, let me make YOU a deal you can't refuse! Haha!'

Bill blinked at him- ‘Wink!’ and held his hands out wide. If he had a face, Gideon could tell there would be the biggest toothy smile plastered on it. He swallowed.

Bill was dangerous. He knew this much. He knew you should never- ever- trust a demon at it's word. And yet...

‘You're insane.’ He muttered, shaking his head. ‘You can't do that, it- it just ain't possible.’

‘Gideon, REALITY IS AN ILLUSION. What's ‘possible’ is whatever I WANT to be possible!’ Bill drifted, floating upside down as he spoke. ‘I defy the laws of nature just by EXISTING, so who's to say I can't do anything I want? You're talking to a criminally insane triangle, kid! Start BELIEVING. Here, let me help you.’

Bill snapped his fingers, a teal flame shooting up from his hand and forming a portal of sorts- within it, figures started to form. Gideon saw…

He saw himself.

He saw himself laughing. He was wreathed in flame yet somehow still cast in shadow in the middle of a chalk pentagram, his five-pointed star burning bright. Gravity Falls around him lay in ruins. He stood in the burning husk of what was once the Mystery Shack. The Pines lay crumpled, crushed beneath burning timbers. The smell of ash and blood thick in the air.

And hovering before him, as if in a deep fairytale sleep, was Mabel.

Sweet, sweet Mabel.

He saw a vision of his victory. All the power he had ever wanted coursing through his veins. Everyone who had ever slighted him was dead by his hand. And his only love- she was all his, forever.

His vision reached out, took her hand so gently. He could almost feel her hand in his, her skin so… so soft. He hadn't felt it in so long. His hands shook, and he reached out.

And then, the vision erupted back into flames with the click of Bill's fingers.

Gideon stood, spellbound, holding a breath he didn't think he could let go. The teal flames still flickering in the back of his mind.

‘Yup, I knew you'd pick up what I was puttin’ down, kiddo.’ Bill flipped himself upright and straightened his little bow tie.

‘It’s about time you got everything you deserve, isn't it?’

All at once, Gideon seemed to snap out of his stupor. He blinked, shook his head. He took a step back again, swallowing down the lump in his throat. No- no… this had to be too good to be true. The devil was a tempter, he knew this much. But if there was a chance- the smallest chance- that this future could come to pass... He hardened his expression as best he could, trying to gain back his swiped upper hand.

‘But wait.. what would you get outta all of this? There's no way you'd be helpin’ me just outta the ‘goodness of your heart’… if you even have one of those.’

‘HAHA! You got me there!’ Bill swiped at him playfully. ‘But I'll have you know I have at least NINE hearts, and several other heart-adjacent organs! Wanna see?’ He wiggled his fingers before sticking one hand straight down into himself- a horrific CRACK sounded along with a spray of what looked like television static, a horrible thick black something trickling out to the floor down his arm- up to the elbow in his chest. It took all of Gideon's willpower not to scream.

‘Answer the question!’ He snapped. Bill huffed, let his hand flop out of his body- the relief when he didn't drag some sort of horrific organ out was palpable. He brushed himself down, the wound closing as easily as it had appeared.

‘Okay, sheesh! Keep your hair on.’ Bill rolled his eye, leaning forward. ‘Obviously, I wouldn’t do it for free. We can do a trade. I’ve got some stuff I need to finish up in the physical realm, see. So I’d just-’ He mimed jumping with his fingers. ‘- hop on into your body for a bit. Temporary possession.’

‘My body-!?’ Gideon clasped his hands over his heart, realizing his back was pushed against the wall again. Bill wanted to POSSESS him?

‘Yeah! Geez, you look like you’re going to pop an ulcer, kid. You wouldn’t be in it, obviously!’ He scoffed. ‘We take you out, put me in, you get all my powers an’ I get to use your chubby little hands to finish some personal business. I won’t even keep it that long. Think of it like a vacation! And when I’m done with it, you get my powers for keeps. There’s basically no downside!’

Bill floated down to the floor and folded his hands together. He shrugged. 'It's all up to you now, kid.'

Gideon got very quiet. He took in a deep breath, then hopped up to sit on the edge of the metal slab they called a ‘bed’ in here. He fiddled with the fringe of his blanket, chewing on the inside of his cheek in thought. Bill was surprisingly silent as he watched him struggle with this. Then, he hopped up next to him on the cot.

‘Listen to me, Gideon. You've always known you were different, right? I mean, hey. You were born a freak. I get it! I was born a freak in my world, too.' Gideon frowned, but Bill held one hand up to stop him from interrupting.

'I GET it. They only call us freaks 'cause they can't handle that we might be BETTER than them. It happened to me once- now it's happening to you too. They want you to roll over and conform, to bury your head in the sand and be ''normal''. Well, that ain't gonna happen!'

‘And it's because fate had something bigger in store for you. Why do you think you were born different? Why do you think you're so much smarter than everyone else here? Hell- why do you think YOU found that journal in the woods, and not one of the village idiots?'

'It wasn't dumb luck, Gideon. It was fate.' Bills voice grew... darker. More intense. It prickled at the fear response in Gideon's head, and yet... he found himself entranced, somewhat.

'I saw you had potential. I knew you were destined to do more than sell cars, grow old, and die. You could be so much more. So I kept my eye on you until I knew you were ready for it. Now's the time, Gideon. I see EVERYTHING.'

He looked up- Bill was hovering in front of him, now. His eye was glowing with a vision of the void. Within its depths, universes swirled. Galaxies shifted in their positions. And at its heart he could see one star, shining brighter than the rest.

‘And you can see, too. All you need to do is-

shake.

my.

hand.’

He extended his arm forwards, and it erupted in a familiar cold blue flame.

‘And I'll show you.’

…

Gideon swallowed hard. Nothing good would come of this. He was making a pact with a demon. One that had ended poorly, before- how badly would it end THIS time? What if Bill was lying? What if their plans were foiled before completion? What if, what if, what if, part of him repeated.

But the other part of him… the selfish, cold, cruel part of his heart burned brighter than ever. Ever since his amulet and his journal had been taken away and he had been thrown into this cell, he’d felt powerless. He had crawled his way up from being ostracised, weak, and alone to basking in fame and fortune. And then it had all been taken away.

No longer loved, and barely even feared. What did he have in here? A handful of schmucks who gave him their seconds in the mess hall? How long would it be then, until THEY tired of him, too? They’d cast him aside eventually. And then he would have nobody and nothing but a cold, dark cell and a life to regret.

He needed that power back. No- he needed more. He needed enough to wrestle the world back into his hands. To know that all he had to do was will it, and it would be crushed back into stardust.

His eyes were cold. He looked up.

‘It’s a deal.’

He took Bill's hand.

.

.

.

[agapestricken]

hello, hello, you all — so... i hope you all are having a great thursday thus far, and i thought i'd bring this up now since i hadn't before; but with ana's zombification comes some noticeable differences to his behavior as well as appearance. because, and don't get me wrong, he was already pale before... but now anastasiy's skin now has this pallor that takes on a sickly look. and it has become necessary for ana to have to apply some concealer to his skin daily to hide the fact that his lips are, indeed, sort of tinged blue + some veins (particularly around his eyes and mouth) can clearly be seen and it definitely isn't the most uhh. natural look, to say the least JSJSJ

now, i'll probably cover more about his behavioral differences later, but one thing is that this man does have these SICK and TWISTED urges to consume human flesh as a zombie would in typical fiction would... so that's lovely / j LMAO nahhh, i'm totally being sarcastic with y'all right now as that is actually horrifying. but anastasiy does try his darndest to resist giving into this temptation because cannibalism is a BIG no-no in society for a reason (because its absolutely terrible and extremely gross) + with... slightly mixed results 😬

[grimoirefate]

TAG DROP 001

[ ooc. ] i'm a nice person so long as you are nice to me. my muses are not the only ones with teeth.

[ ic. ] i once feared mythal would consume me were i to carry her. but twas not so. i remain free willed and mortal.

[ mythal & solas ] ...are not for you alone to bear my friend. the many wrongs we did. we did together. I release you from my service.

[ mythal introspection ] I pulled you from the fade you loved and sent you into war. I used your wisdom as a weapon and it broke you.

[ introspection ] when she intended me to become the next host of an ancient gods soul I feared naught would be left of my own.

[ veilguard ] I have been advisor to orlais. witch of the wilds. daughter of flemeth. and once long ago an old friend.

[ inquisition. ] I knew the empress was intrigued by the arcane and I could answer questions no chantry mage could.

[ origins. ] well. well. what have we here? are you a vulture I wonder? a scavenger? poking amidst a corpse? or intruder?

[ answered: ooc. ] its me. the equivalent of a spicy kitten in a corner.

[ answered: ic. ] yet she survived and returned ages later to aide the inquisition in its hour of need. how?

[ psa. ] hear ye! hear ye! use those things on the side of your head or be doomed.

[ saved. ] im like a dragon when it comes to things i like.

[ prompts / memes. ] twas both a pleasure and necessity to help them as it is now.

[ crack. ] ooooo! you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you!

[ salt. ] i'm bitter and now i'm making it everyone's problem.

[ birthday. ] its my hatch day!!!!

[ self promotion. ] would that I could become them I would for now this will do.

[ promotion ] look! its the people I like! I think you will like them too!

[manicali]

The weekend isn't enough I've literally been passing out on the bus.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

So like, mini disclaimer before the post. I was not and am not a believer in the "Sonic is going to be forced to choose between his original friends and the shatterspace variants" theory, nor the companion to it "all the variants are just gonna essentially live with their memories inside the og friends' hearts"

However, I do have brainrot over the idea of Nine meeting Tails in his dreams, and some of these ideas require a prerequisite of "in which Nine exists within Tails' heart but does not currently have a body.

ㅤ

Imagine, if you will, a setting post canon in which the variants exist within the hearts of the original and (kingdom hearts style) they would just need a body/vessel of their own to exist again. Tails is sleeping, and after dreams upon dreams of meeting the variants, experiencing their fleeting memories and their hurt (their feelings about everything), he comes across Nine.

Nine... Tails has had a hard time remembering much of his dreams while awake, but when he's dreaming, he remembers that Nine has been perhaps the angriest and most conflicted of all the variants. All of them want to be alive, of course. Tails wouldn't be surprised if *all* of them have been parsing through his own memories in exchange for sharing theirs.

But none have been so volatile as Nine, harder to reason with. The others at least face him more often than not, but Nine has directly done so few times.

But...Tails can't blame him for that, especially not after what he knows. He understands how Nine likely feels (abandoned, lonely, forgotten). Perhaps he wouldn't be so agreeable either if he fought tooth and nail for a better future, and the universe denied him that (nay, punished him to watch but to never have).

But tonight...

Nine is standing under a palm tree, facing the vast ocean past the beaches of Green Hill. Tails takes a few steps down the hill he's on, and soon enough he's standing off to the side (dream logic, he understands)—where he can see Nine from the front, but isn't standing directly in front of him or obstructing his view.

It's at this moment that Tails realizes he's never seen Nine so clearly before. The tips of his ears, to his permafrown, to his 7 mechanical tails, and down to his shoes. He's fought the fox before in his dreams, seen glimpses of him, but this is the first time he's had a chance to really see him.

Nine turns his head away from the sea, and suddenly Tails is beside him, mere feet away.

Tails opens his mouth, a dozen questions and sentence starters flying through his head. What eventually comes out is just a simple, "Nine?"

Nine smiles at that, and yet...Tails can tell almost instantly that it's not because he's happy or excited to see him. No, the smile is almost...accepting, if not a little bit sad.

Then, Nine sighs. "This could have been the other way around, but...it has to be you."

Tails hesitates for a moment before pointing at himself. "...Me? Why?"

"There are so many people connected to you—all of you, if my hypothesis is correct. It often is. You're me, so...you can feel what I felt. You could...feel how I feel."

And maybe it's true that Tails can feel what Mangey, Sails, and Nine are feeling, but all that proves is that one is affected by the presence of others residing within their own consciousness.

Tails shakes his head. "No. You're you, not me."

There's a moment of silence before Nine chuckles, and Tails continues, "I want you to know that you deserve to live as your own person, just as much as I do."

"Every time we've fought—here—I've asked you the same question. Do you remember it?"

Well, of course, Tails finds multiple questions as he tries to think back, but by keeping the terms of Nine's question in mind and employing process of elimination–

Nine turns back to the sea, squeezing both gloved hands into fists at his sides. "I was angry—among other things. I just couldn't understand why I was here. After everything I'd fought for, everything we'd been through together, I couldn't understand why he chose you. And every time I asked, you never gave me an answer."

Nine's right. Tails has never given him an answer to that question.

But to Tails...that question was never his to answer, at least in his opinion. Unless Sonic told him, Tails would never know why he put in for him, Amy, Knuckles, and Rouge over worlds of new friends. All he does know (straight from Sonic's own testimony) is that Sonic would have never made the choice he did had he known it would lead to all this. Sonic had wanted home, Tails, and all his friends back, but he never meant to erase the other worlds. Even as he tries to pretend otherwise, Tails knows Sonic has been beating himself up for the choice he made ever since.

Shouldn't Nine know that—that Sonic didn't mean to hurt him, that Sonic feels regret, that Sonic wasn't intending to choose between one or the other?

"Nine–"

"Save it," Nine says, cutting him off. "It doesn't matter anymore. Sonic made his choice, but you still have that chance."

Nine turns back to Tails and holds out a hand.

Tails looks down, then back up at Nine. He hesitates for a second, but ultimately takes Nine's hand.

Tails is an observer, a spectator without form, as memories begin to play out before him in quick succession. Despite the lack of form, somehow his head begins to ache in pain that only grows over the moments.

And then, he begins to notice a pattern in the memories shown to him. Despite the pain, he recognizes the clear shift since a certain blue hedgehog—Sonic, of course—saves Nine from being hit by a train.

Each and every memory, if Sonic wasn't centered or mentioned in it, then his palpable absense was the focal point. Nine fought him, he worked with him, he almost lost him, he thought he lost him, and then he fought him again.

Nine had spent most of his life lonely, though he hadn't realized that until his life was almost over.

A waterfall of emotions hit him then, just before the highlight reel crackles into black.

And then, Tails is standing beside Nine again, head pulsing and heart pounding. He can hardly remember what he's just seen, and that waterfall of emotions seeps through his fingers as he tries to catch them, to study them.

All he knows is that he understands. Somehow, he understands why Nine feels the way he does. Now, more than before, he understands why Nine is hung up on Sonic the way he is.

Perhaps, Tails thinks, he understands how it feels for Nine to be with Sonic (and without him) far more than anyone else.

Tails musters up a look of determination as he stares into Nine's eyes, and he squeezes his hand. "I'll figure it out. No matter how long it takes, I'll make sure you—you, and Sails, and Mangey, and the rest—can walk along the beach. You don't deserve to sit here and watch like this. None of you deserved to have your lives taken."

And Nine... Nine smiles, like he just can't help it. "Don't you see? That's why it has to be you."

There's a feeling, an almost indescribable feeling, that strikes Tails' heart at that.

"I promise," Tails says.

And then, he’s sitting up in his bed, breathing deeply.

As he makes himself get up, get ready, and rush into his lab, there's little he remembers from his dream as always.

But he knows what he has to do.

I'll make sure of it, Nine.

[mad-hunts]

i like how barton went from being like... a hippie in terms of how he viewed sex in his early twenties, then kind of abstained from it for a few years / became sexually repressed, which... definitely isn't such a good thing. BUT then he became even more of a freak (and i do mean that in the good way this time LOL) around the time he started residency because WOW is that shit stressful. though that was also unfortunately around the time when he really started to spiral as well 😬 but we don't need to talk about that ahahhh

like the way this man learned how to express his sexuality REALLY came full circle in the end considering he was like 'yeah, back in the early days that i was in college, i was a freak. but now i'm not anymore... though do you want to see me do it again anyway?' like 💀 JSJSJ if he weren't so demented, i'd almost be inclined to say good for him, y'all LMAO feeling comfortable with your sexuality and perhaps even having a bit of fun with it (though maybe too much in barton's case, because he literally weaponizes it in order to lure in his victims. BUT once again, we don't need to talk about that right now psshhh. i actually fully intend on talking about that in the tags NGL) is more often than not a good thing after all

[black-queen-rising]

New competitor for my list of: Top 3 Weirdest Phenomena in My Absolute Weirdest Fandom Experience of All Time.

Reading something that broadly fits under the #anti-HotD umbrella, that acknowledges the story’s underlying message of the destructive power of systemic misogyny, talks about how the show is incredibly reductive in it’s “feminism” benevolent misogyny, and how none of the characters are done well…and then after all of that flips things back around to say “and that’s why Rhaenyra was always wrong, why her reign would’ve ended in horrible destruction no matter what, why the simple energy or will to try to incrementally change this terrible system via the existing laws and precedents (which I have decided to obfuscate) was doomed to fail, and nothing ever will or can change.”

My brother in fandom do you truly not see a single inconsistency talking about ~toxic misogyny~ to justify a system and position that’s more conservative than Queen Mary I and Queen Elizabeth I? More importantly, are you really going to talk about a narrative in which every. single. character. is eventually put through immense psychological torment ending in tragic death because said destructive misogyny. You can recognize what the show has done is reductive and ultimately harmful, congrats. Can you explain to me why Alicent and Aegon and Rhaenys and Helaena and (yes, no matter how much you hate them) Daemon, and Aemond, and once again every. single. character. were ultimately victimized, traumatized, lost everything, and then died in misery without bringing up the “choice” you believe Rhaenyra made to go to war?

No???

The point is that it does not matter if you work for the system or against it, if you are disadvantaged or privileged by it, if it has given you everything or taken it all away; when that system of toxic misogyny is left to flourish and let loose as a weapon against your enemies it will not spare anyone, when there is no counterweight to it the destruction will not die down it will simply grow worse, and choosing sides is pointless not because they’re “both bad” but because they have all been victimized by that system far worse than they ever could’ve been by each other.

You wanted a tragedy so bad? Congratulations, you’ve found one. Now stop wasting your time being pissy that Rhaenyra isn’t MacBeth no matter how bad you want her to be and start reckoning with the fact they were all forced to be Antigone no matter how desperately you want the ones who externally validate your views to be the only ones justified.

[itspileofgoodthings]

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[aparticularbandit]

Still turning Wicked around in my head.

Rotating it in the tumbler.

Debating writing something with it but like. Not quite there.

There's a couple of moments that scream to me.

Not sure my grasp of the characters is strong enough and like it....

It's Wicked, with its huge fandom, and it's....

I want to make sure I have the grasp on the characters I want before getting into it.