#i cannot even begin to describe the effect he has on me

[riaki]

PLS GIVE ME ONE CHANCE ILL BE GOOD I SWEAR

CSM. AKI HAYAKAWA

I’d rather make any devil I kill suffer as much as possible. What are you trying to do? Make friends with them?

[honey-pages]

Learn your Lesson - Viktor x Reader

Description -

After an intense lecture, Viktor invites you to his study where he ensures you learn your lesson.

2.7k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. NSFW. Sex. Teacher/Student. Riding.

@kskajjwiqqj

Viktor was nothing like the other professors that you had met. He was younger, known by his first name, and was quite clearly very attractive. You had been invited along to a skills class with the rest of your department and any interested outliers. Viktor was the reason you attended. You aspired to impress him, to become his student. There were always rumours circulating, however with Viktor, the only thing you had heard was how impenetrably private he was.

His back was to you as he wrote on the board in chalk. It was strange seeing someone in the position he was at such a comparable age to yourself. You did not even want to consider how old professor Heimerdinger was. The way he looked standing there authoritatively in his everyday suit was immaculate. It was taking your attention away from his teaching.

“The principles of Hextech's functions are fundamentally rooted in our understanding of magic's interactions with our reality. The volatile nature of unrefined hex crystals stems from this. Magic in and of itself cannot be quantified with precision, only comparatively by constants. “

He was presenting half to himself as the majority of the room looked out of their depth. He stopped asking call and response questions a while ago as he had no responses. Now he was picking on people.

“So, why is it an impossibility for magic to be married to our understanding of, say, gravity? “

No one makes to answer the question. You wait for a few seconds as he looks quite disheartened. He sweeps over the room. Silence. He locks eyes with you. The questions weren’t essentially that difficult, they were just to register attention. Most of the things he asked were things he had previously mentioned or things that were graspable by taking the things he had taught and applying its logic.

You put forward an answer, “It is impossible to apply something which lacks numerical quantification to a concept as characterised by numbers as gravity. You'd end up with too many unknowns. The best you could manage is to average those constants, which is not precise enough when working with hextech “

“Close! It is certainly a challenge, although not impossible, to determine properties of a gravity field under magical influence, in precisely the manner you have described. However, more fundamentally, the issue lies in the fact that the gravitational constant is a dimensional property defined by distance and mass, while any magical constant lacks such constraints. But very very good thoughts Miss (Y/N).”

He knew your name. As he responded to you, he did a double take, watching you. You caught him scanning your whole person, losing his train of thought for a second. He smirks before catching the thought he had just lost. It was quite noticeable, the effect you had just had over him, and you were almost certain that it wasn’t just because you were the only one answering questions. Maybe the times you had thought he was being personable were something more?

He was finishing up his teaching, but still whenever he referenced something you had put forward or said something particularly related to your thoughts, he looked at you.

“We've discussed today a number of approaches to applying magical principles in our limited understanding of physical laws. The crux of what makes this application an impossibility is as follows: A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property. “

He addresses you, “With all the answers you have given, Miss (Y/N), I perhaps should invite you to speak with me privately afterwards.”

As he calls over to you, you realise the invitation he has just extended to you may not be one of a regular professor. Students are beginning to pack up and filter out of the hall, noise levels rise. Your seat on the first row, closest to Viktor, enables you to be one of the first out of your seat. Your courage feels disembodied and far from you now as you face him without the defence of the group setting.

“I’d like that. When are you free?” You ask, smiling and holding his gaze. It feels more difficult at close distance to deal with his focus, like the sun being beamed through a magnifying glass.

“Come to my study.” He suggests.

He collects his jacket from the back of the chair, folding up papers and books from the lectern and placing them into his bag. He holds back a little longer, waiting for the last of the students to have left the theatre. The room feels much smaller now you are alone together.

“I am serious about your potential, Miss (Y/N). I think with some support you could do great things.”

You flatter, “If I had a teacher such as yourself Viktor, I would already be doing great things.”

“You look beautiful today.”

You fluster, it was unexpected. You stumble.

“Flattery doesn’t work on either of us.”

“I’m serious Viktor, take me on as your student.”

He pauses.

“What was my final point in today’s lecture Miss (Y/N).”

Your mind was blank. Not strictly due to a lack of memory, focus or attention as you can guarantee to certainty that your attention was on Viktor, but due to how completely attracted you are to him. As time passes, his gaze becomes more confident. He knows he has you where he wants you.

“A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property.” He reiterates. “It is no issue that you have forgotten. I have identified exactly where to begin tonight’s lesson.”

You walk with Viktor through the corridors and leading passages to his study. It is an interesting place in an interesting building. It is decorated beautifully, with full bookcases and large empty boards scrawled with workings. It is a small place that looks well used and lived in, as though it were an external reflection of his internal musings.

“Make yourself at home.” He insists.

You place down your belongings in one corner, neatly out of the way of any space Viktor might need. He sits down in a chair in the corner opposite to the one you stand in, and ushers you to sit in the respective seat. Although you are diagonally placed, the smallness of the room almost presses the caps of your knees together. It is cosy and feels like a special place to be invited to.

“I do not usually invite people here, even if they are prospective students.”

You smile, not knowing quite what to reply to show gratitude, humility and not betray the all-consuming attraction you have towards him. Ever since he said you looked beautiful, any hextech knowledge you may have unlocked had been jumbled and rearranged to make some sexual collage.

“I meant it” He states.

“What?”

“You look beautiful today”

You try to play it off cooly how much that compliment meant to you. “I thought we had agreed not to flatter.”

“I wanted to be clear. I didn’t just say it because I wanted to compliment you. I said it because I meant it (Y/N).”

You freeze up again. Your pulse began to be audible through your ears and your blood ran hot.

“You look flustered.” He recognises, sitting forward.

He reaches out a hand to touch your knee. He looks concerned. He doubts the appropriateness of his actions for a second before reassessing. You are both adults, he has no direct power over you, you are both consenting to being here. Then why did this feel so strange. It felt dream like to him. He had fantasised about you for so long, had stalked your progress in your studies. He had seen potential in you from the moment you were accepted through intake, in fact he made the decision.

You sit up too at his touch. In doing so, you shifted in your chair, your legs widened slightly. Due to the change in position, his hand now sits significantly higher up your thigh. A happy accident. Viktor understands why you are so nervous. He is also aware as to the position he now has you in. In his office, in his chair, with his hand on your thigh.

He tries to make you more comfortable, “Let’s take this back to hextech. Ah yes, perfect, what was the last thing I mentioned in today’s lecture?”

You stared absolutely blankly. Every time you had begun to think real words, Viktor had knocked you back ten steps. Now you were at square one again. You tried to recall the words, but they were fuzzy and blurry and so far out of your reach.

“Viktor, I’m sorry, I can’t remember.” You plead.

“Come on, Miss (Y/N), with your answers earlier we both know what you are capable of.”

“My brain feels foggy. I think I am misremembering.”

“An educated guess is the first big step.”

Throughout the conversation, the intensity of eye contact and body language meant that neither of you had realised that Viktor’s hand now held dangerously highly on your upper thigh. He looked down at his hand on you. It had not felt like he had moved it that far up. You realised that you had gradually been spreading your legs further apart. Gravitating towards one another. Everything leading to one eventual outcome. This was all the confirmation that was needed.

“Come here” He asks, smoothly.

You hesitate, blushing.

He pats his lap, sinking back into his chair. “A good student does what they are told.”

You hesitated not only due to feeling intimidated, but that you were not wearing any underwear. To make it more noticeable to him, you were also wearing a skirt. Of all the days to be sitting on Viktor’s lap, today had to be the one. You climb up onto his lap, sitting side saddle, keeping your knees together.

“So rigid. Where was this posture when you were just spreading your legs?”

“It’s not that Viktor, its- “Your voice trails off.

His hands find themselves around your waist and hips, feeling and calculating, building and rendering what you must look like underneath. His touch is comforting, his hands are hot and hungry. You want to give yourself to him, allow yourself to be devoured.

“I’m not wearing underwear.”

Viktor’s hands stop moving momentarily.

“Is there a reason you came to my lecture without them?”

You don’t answer. You shift more comfortably into his lap, directly onto his crotch. He is satisfied without an answer. He decides that if the outcome of your studies today was to catch him, he was very much in your reach. As you shift in your seat, his hips jolt forward, grinding up into you. It is uncontrollable for him.

“Open them for me Miss (Y/N).” He continues

Viktor guides your hips to move you to straddle him, shifting your legs apart. He watches your movements, eyes focused on you. He raises his hand to his mouth, placing in two fingers, coating them with saliva, before pressing them to you. He slides them over your clit and then down to your entrance. You are already slick with wetness, mainly from the anticipation and mental chess he was playing with you.

“So wet for me already.” His voice is silk. “What a prepared student you are.”

You uncontrollably push forward against his fingers, increasing the pressure against yourself. You moan out accidentally.

“Beautiful” He watches, “And if I place them here, then what noise will you make”

He flicks his fingers over your clit, hovering them over your entrance.

“Please.”

“What was the last thing I said in today lecture Miss (Y/N).”

Your chances of remembering were zero even though he had repeated himself. You really had no excuse for not remembering but it was so impossibly difficult now. You rut against the tips, desperate.

“Viktor, I’ve forgotten again.”

“Such a shame, you seemed so attentive. You will learn and progress, you just need encouragement.”

He unbuttons and unzips his trousers, angling upwards to pull them under his hips and down his thighs to his knees. As his underwear comes away, he springs free. He is exactly as you expected. Seeing him explicitly feels like a sin in itself. With both hands on your hips, he shuffles you forwards to be directly positioned above his waist.

“Information recall is important Miss (Y/N).’ He states. “Repeat after me.”

“Yes.”

He spells the words out slowly. “A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property.”

The words are alien to you, meaningless now. You try to remember, there are two long ‘D’ words, two alliterative ‘C’s. The second he says it, it’s gone from your head again.

“Your turn”

“A dimensionless… cannot contain... dimension” You know it is incorrect even as you say it.

He grins, watching you unfold under the pressure. He begins to stroke himself slowly. You may as well be dripping on him. He lifts your shirt and unbuttons your bra.

“I can do it” You insist.

He removes the shirt and bra, exposing you before him.

“Dimensionless constants contain… no, define…”

He is quickening his pace, pleasuring himself with speed to the vision of you in front of him, stumbling over words he has fed you. So desperate to impress him.

“Viktor, please can you say it again.”

“A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property” He moans and signs as he speaks. Punctuating the words as they fall out of his mouth. He aligns you with him as he prepares for your repetition.

You reply quickly while it is fresh in your brain, “A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property”

He slams quickly upwards and inside of you, stretching you around him. You scream out his name. He doesn’t stop moving, furiously thrusting and thrusting and thrusting. He gets deeper as you sink down on him.

“Again, Miss (Y/N)”

“A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property”

There is no slowing Viktor down and you hold onto the chair for balance. He has both hands gripping either thigh and his face is warped in concentration and pleasure. His fingers are gripping firmly and roughly.

“I am going to fill you Miss (Y/N).” He commands, “So deeply that you will feel me inside of you until your next lecture.”

“Please Viktor- “

You are filling the study with swearing and ecstatic cries. It isn’t soundproof, Viktor knows that well enough in hearing conversations outside of his door. He wonders how they will react to him holding you down on his cock as he finishes, the sounds you will make. Whether people will hear his name, will recognise you as the prospective student who seduced him and got fucked consequently.

He has slowed his pace slightly, using his hand to rub your clit. You feel yourself building, unravelling. He feels you internally tense around him, gripping his cock and pulsating around it. You will finish imminently.

“I’m going to- “you pant. “Your fingers will- “

“Do it, (Y/N).” He is near his end too, “For me. Show me how badly you want it. Give me no choice but to undo you.”

He speeds up his fingers, forcing you through a powerful orgasm.

“Viktor- “You scream out.

You are shaking, quivering but he doesn’t stop. He removes his hand and buries it into your hair, tilting your head back, pulling you downwards as he pushes upwards.

“Take it” He demands, “My perfect student. Look at you - a whore.”

With these words, he firmly grabs you and holds you still, as deeply as you can manage. He feels himself twitch and spasm, coating your insides with his thick load. He begins to thrust a few more times to feel the wet slapping noise that he has reduced you to. He is at a loss of breath, a loss of words.

You collapse onto his chest, folding into his arms. It feels good being held there as your heart rates begin to settle themselves. There is something pure and honest about the way you both interlock after such an extreme session. He smooths your hair back, kissing you across the face, planting thoughtful kisses on your forehead. He sinks deeply into the chair, as you sink deeply into him. Together you fall into a tired, lazy nap.

Tag List - @gubkkki, @veru-boom

[cherryfennec]

what could you think of for a second and third phase for super dimentio

Ymmm I don't really see him having another phases so no but I've had something for the first 20 seconds of his initial battle in mind.

Tag, he's it.

okay so like spm spoilers and stuff but:

When you first start the battle with Super Dimentio there's a certain period of time where he's invincible. You can't damage him and nothing really happens until Timpani returns with the Pure Hearts.

Now in my personal opinion while I'm still glad they added this moment, it still left me a little unsatisfied. Here's why:

Dimentio turning into Super Dimentio with Luigi is his big moment, his victory. He has become something that is indestructible, something that generations of Ancients have been passing down. He is a god. The time frame where he's indestructible in the game is supposed to show that you are powerless against him, that no Pixl and no item will do anything. This is supposed to make you realize in the moment that: it's truly hopeless.

Unfortunately Dimentios spotlight is VERY quickly taken from him, which makes the idea less effective than it could've been. You see Dimentio working for this the entire game, just for him to win in the end only for 20 seconds and then turn into a joke of a fight. The speech he gives before the fight is longer than the actual boss, making everything slightly anticlimactic (at least to me).

The concept I've been thinking about using in my take of the Super Mario lore (SPM specifically here) is that those 20 seconds of standing and waiting around for the game to decide it's time to move on are instead spent on: A reverse game of magical tag.

The concept of a magical tag itself is used earlier in the game by Dimentio himself who makes Mario and Luigi humour him by traveling through the worlds they have been in before and finding ripples in space he's leaving behind to keep the game going. I thought by turning this moment of 20 second invincibility into a game of magical tag where he's “it” this time would help that feeling of hopelessness and stakes sink in.

In this scenario Mario still cannot fight back as Dimentio,actively chasing him, is invincible, which forces him to run from danger. He runs from world to world, but now in contrast to the previous tag game, the worlds are being wiped out as you go through them for the final time. They're barely holding on, torn from their colors and mixing with the white void peeking through. Maybe some leftover npcs encouraging to keep going or just being terrified instead. Dimentio is chasing after you, peeking his long arms or head through the ripples to strike, and as he makes his way behind you the world progressively disappears and you have to make it out before it's entirely gone, else its game over. In the end of this chase you make it back to Castle Bleck where it picks up on Timpani restoring the Pure Hearts with Blumiere and using them to help Mario by removing Super Dimentios invincibility.

In conclusion I think making this moment akin to what I described above would help set the tone of this enemy more. For one this moment is now LONGER so you can see direct consequences of Dimentios victory outside and think about it more, second it turns you into an actual helpless plaything that you were meant to be. The entire path of the chase leads you back to Castle Bleck, it's a circle. This time you cannot escape and this time the evil doings have been set in motion on a rapid scale. It's a moment of Darkness that's broken by Timpani, someone who has been with you since the beginning and who you saw grow. She's now full of love and determined to win, something that to me comes off as super inspiring. She has been cursed to live a miserable existence yet she found the Light thanks to you. And THAT'S why you shouldn't give up even after all the ruined worlds you've seen. You have to keep fighting for them even in their darkest moment, even when they're gone.

also to clear any confusion yes i know this game is 3+ but i still think it'd be cool ig

[grunckle]

Qualia and Ascension in Rain World

(To clarify I'm mostly talking about base-game lore and not including Downpour, but honestly most of these things can transfer over)

Qualia

One thing that’s relatively hidden in Rain World’s text and subtext is the concept of qualia. Qualia is described as being, “sensory experiences that have distinctive subjective qualities but lack any meaning or external reference to the objects or events that cause them.” It’s a personal sensory experience that cannot be comprehended by another person other than the individual themself, and are often hard to convey via language.

Qualia is a reoccurring motif in Rain World, but what’s more important is the way in which it’s conveyed to the player. The picture that’s painted is that of a world or civilization that placed a great importance on the individuals’ experience, and it’s shown through pearls or environmental details.

Here are some examples of qualia appearing in the text through pearls.

“It's qualia, or a moment - a very short one. Someone is holding a black stone, and twisting it slightly as they drag their finger across the rough surface. The entire sequence is shorter than a heartbeat, but the resolution is extraordinary.”

“A memory... but not really visual, or even concrete, in its character. It reminds of the feeling of a warm wind, but not the physical feeling but the... inner feeling. I don't think it has much utility unless you are doing some very fringe Regeneraist research.”

“This one... is authored by Five Pebbles, when he was young. There has been an attempt to scramble the data, but it's sloppily done, and most is still somewhat legible. It's written in internal language, or thoughts, so it is hard for me to translate so you would understand.”

But the most prominent examples of qualia and it’s importance in this world are the Memory Crypts and possibly ancient naming conventions. The deep purple pearl (shortened) found in Shaded Citadel states,

“In this vessel is the living memories of Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel, of the House of Braids (…) Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel nobly decided to ascend in the beginning of 1514.008, after graciously donating all (ALL!) earthly possessions to the local Iterator project (Unparalleled Innocence), and left these memories to be cherished by the carnal plane. The assorted memories and qualia include:”

Ancients likely mutated their own neural tissue into the cabinet beasts we see in Shaded, which were used to store their memories and qualia before ascension. Even james said once "how 5 pebs got the rot is a good hint here" in response to someone asking how cabinet beasts work, and how they're made.

Adding on to this, ancient (and iterator) naming conventions seem to be built off of the concept of qualia, with them focusing on individual images or experiences.

Nineteen Spades, Endless Reflections

Droplets upon Five Large Droplets

Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets

Looks to the Moon

Generally, this all points to a world focused on the expression and preservation of the individual experience. You could even consider some of the echo dialogue as more evidence for this running motif, but I already have too many quotes lol.

Ascension

So now time to talk about my interpretation of ascension. In short, you turn into a worm, but I should probably explain more than that.

So its been surfacing on rw-tumblr that the light in the end of the game is called the egg in files. Although file names shouldn't be taken as fact or canon, it is pretty obvious given the birth imagery.

But something a little lesser known is what happens to the worm that takes us down to the void-sea depths. Void worms normally have a bright glowing effect, on their body, which is present for ours as well. But after it unhooks us, it swims down, and when it passes us on it's way back that glowing effect is gone.

To be honest, I don't really think this can be interpreted in many ways, but the most obvious one and the one I personally subscribe to is that the worm laid the egg. Biology and spirituality really aren't that different in Rain World, it's implied that karma is stored in the brain through Five Pebbles's slideshow. Adding on to that, we see voidspawn after eating an iterator neuron. One's spiritual state is innately tied to their mental state, and that dictates what and what they can't perceive.

And for that reason I decide to take a more biology leaning approach to what happens in the ending. At face value, we are fertilizing the egg of a void worm to be reborn into a voidspawn.

Not only do void spawn and void worms have multiple characteristics in common, (worm like bodies, tendrils/tentacles, glowing heads, void spawn look microbial and void worms are likely some of the oldest "life" in game)

but voidspawn are seen inside egg-like coverings and share the same egg light seen in the end of the game, confirmed to be the same thing by Videocult in a livestream they did.

I believe that all this points to ascension being re-birth into a voidspawn, which eventually undergoes metamorphose into a worm. Higher-dimensional beings, who manifest and give birth to a new world.

So how does this tie in with qualia? Another thing you might know is that the area in which void spawn are most plentiful is Shaded Citadel and areas in Shoreline near Shaded. And shaded is absolutely packed with Cabinet Beasts, even outside Memory Crypts. I believe these qualia-storing creatures are what manifest voidspawn.

From what we see in ascension, it still looks physical and largely based around the real world. Hunter still has his scars and see's an iterator, survivor sees the slug tree in a more mystical and formless state, and monk sees survivor frankly just looking like a normal slugcat. I think that ascension is a product of qualia. We transcend our earthly knowledge via the egg, and our own qualia is used to give birth to a new world. This is why voidspawn appear most in Shaded Citadel.

Now I won't be getting into Void-Worm theories too much here, I'm mostly focused on ascension but I can't ignore the Gnosticism parallels. For those who don't know, Void Worms heavily resemble the Yaldaboath from Gnosticism, along with sharing some similar celestial motifs.

and running with that some people theorize that, like the Yaldabaoth, void worms are responsible for manifesting the material world. Ascension seems to be a mix of the concepts of Gnosis and Nirvana, but I believe it might lean more on Gnosis.

From my limited knowledge, Gnosis is a few things, some of which being a state achieved from experiences or intuitions, and an essential part to salvation is personal knowledge. While researching a bit, I came across this text by Peter Wilberg called "From NEW AGE to NEW GNOSIS" which brings up some comparisons between Gnosticism and qualia as well.

"Gnosis is subjective knowledge of an inner universe made up not of matter, energy, space or time but of countless qualitative spheres or ‘planes’ of awareness – a knowledge obtained directly through inter- subjective resonance. It is the subjective science of this inner universe."

One thing though that has been brought up when discussing this is how this can be consolidated with the tone of the ending. It is pretty un-ambiguously happy, but if we're going with the Void worm Yaldaboath theory then that would put a bit of a sour twist on it right?

I agreed with these for some time, but now I actually think it ties in perfectly with Rain World's core themes as stated by the devs, "overcoming differences and finding empathy." I don't think the void worms are "evil" or malevolent, but I think they (and subsequently us after ascending) play a key role in demonstrating this theme.

By manifesting the physical world, we allow these souls to experience life and develop their own qualia so one day they can ascend themselves. We are shown compassion, and pass it forward.

[thememestrider]

Had an idea, thought it was cute, so I wrote something for it.

Introductions - Dante x F! Reader

Sypnosis: Needing to touch base with the various high lords and regents of his new Imperium, Robute Guilliman hosts an enormous social function at his palace on Ultramar. Naturally, Commander Dante is invited. And, naturally, he's taking his beloved as his plus one.

C/W: No warnings, possible lore inaccuracies/ooc (especially for Guilliman since idk anything about his lore lol), reader is described as female in this one, pre-established relationship, kinda fluffy with a smidge of angst, lil spicy insinuation at the end but nothing nsfw, unedited.

Back in the days before the Heresy, Guilliman had hated events like this.

The pomp, the lavishness, and the expenditure; all so his father could have the opportunity speak with the high lords and imperial regents face-to-face. It's so gawdy, so wasteful. And, frankly, it's so unbearably pretentious.

But, just like those early days, Guilliman understands the necessity. Without them, he'd never see any of the imperial upperclass. Half of them are too preoccupied to try and arrange private audiences with, while the other half will simply refuse. Events like this are a chance to bring all these people together in one place, allowing Guilliman to brief, reprimand and pass orders to everyone he must while keeping them from being distracted or finding some way to avoid him. These conversations are exhausting, though. And, more often than not, frustrating to all hell. Several times throughout the night, Guilliman has to disengage from mingling, to preserve his sanity as much as his strength.

Now is one such time.

Swirling a cup on wine in one hand, the Primarch surveys the floor of his place's vast dining hall, which for tonight has been converted into something akin to a ballroom. His serfs had done well in setting everything up; everything from the music to the drapes to the crystal chandeliers scream luxury from the tops of their lungs. Guilliman takes a swig from his wine. While the taste is pleasant, he find himself resenting the fact that he is immune to the effects of alcohol.

Everyone here, I despise, one way or another.

His gaze catches on the right side of the room. A flash of red; deep, rich and belonging to an ornate set of robes; draped over a man taller than anyone else in the room aside from the Primarch himself. Black hair streaked with silver cascades over his shoulders in loose waves. He's standing against a wall, hands clasped across his lap, sharp amber eyes following something amidst the crowd that Guilliman cannot pick out. The Primarch recognises the man immediately. As he does, a weight suddenly lifts from his chest.

Well, not everyone.

Guilliman starts towards the man in red. When he notices the Primarch approaching, the man's already rigid posture stiffens even more. Setting his fist across his heart, he begins to bow. But before he can complete the gesture, Guilliman intervenes. "How many times must I tell you, Dante? I'll not accept such signs of humility from a man such as you."

He speaks with a smile, but evidently, Dante's innate reverence of the Primarch will not allow him to partake in the jest.

"Forgive me, my lord," the Blood Angel says. "You surprised me, is all."

"There's nothing to forgive." Guilliman sets a hand on Dante's shoulder. "It's good to see you, nephew. I am glad you could attend."

"I..." Dante trails off, and Guilliman fears his attempt at personability have unsettled the space marine. But, eventually, Dante allows himself a brief half-smile. "Thank you, Guilliman. It is good to see you, too."

Releasing his shoulder, Guilliman pauses to look Dante up and down. In spite of his advanced age, Dante remains a spitting image of his gene-father, Sanguinius. Paired with his noble heart and soft-spoken demeanour, and the commander might as well be Guilliman's long-dead brother reborn. The thought tugs at the Primarch's heart. He covers it with a smile. "You look well. Very well. You have recovered from your wounds sustained on Baal, I hope?"

"Somewhat," Dante admits. "Though I cannot say the same for Baal itself."

Guilliman nods sombrely. "The Tyranids are a merciless enemy. Even in defeat, they leave little upon which to rebuild." He offers the commander another smile. "You will rebuild, though. It will just take time."

Dante's expression is thoughtful. "Not too much, I hope; time is not something we have in abundance in the Imperium Secundus. "

Rueful silence follows the commander's words. Slowly, Guilliman can feel it turning melancholic. He moves to break it before that happens. "I see you lack a glass; can I get you a drink?"

Suddenly, Dante perks up. "Oh, no, my lord. You needn't worry. My-"

"My wife is already on it, he meant to say."

Guilliman turns around sharply. He sees you, wrapped in a slinky dress the same crimson shade as Dante's robes, smiling playfully up at the Primarch. You have a glass in each hand. Both filled with wine, though one is significantly larger than the other. This you hand off to Dante, before gliding to the space marine's side and slipping your now-free hand around his arm. For a moment, both men are at a loss for words: Dante, due to your unbelievably casual behaviour towards the Lord Primarch, and Guilliman due to your refering to yourself as...

"Wife?" Guilliman stares at Dante in surprise. "I didn't know you had a wife. "

Dante's expression suddenly hardens. "You don't disapprove, do you?"

"It'd be a bit late if he did," you add slyly.

Guilliman blinks. "I- No, no! Of course not. I'm just... I'm just surprised, is all."

You throw your husband a smirk. "Surprised?" you mutter. "That's a bit rude." Dante's only reply is an unamused glare.

Guilliman shakes his head. "That's not- I only meant that I didn't realise space marines... had partners. Let alone... got married."

"They don't, typically," you reply. "But Luis and I-" quickly rising to your toes, you plant a quick kiss on Dante's cheek. "We're a unique case, you could say. "

Guilliman hardly hears what you're saying; the mere sight of you has his thoughts paralysed. Your crown barely reaches the Blood Angel's shoulder, and yet hanging off his arm, you look completely at home.

Dante is the same, too. Guilliman sees the way his face lights up when you kiss him. Had seen the hostility in his eyes when the Primarch had questioned him, like a primal protectiveness. Even now, it's not yet faded. As much as Dante reveres Guilliman, the Primarch realises that if given the choice between him and you, Dante will choose you without hesitation. Guilliman feels... He isn't sure how this makes him feel. The logicitian in him cringes at the thought of his fellow Lord-regent- his second-in-command, effectively- having his loyalty split between the Imperium and something (or, in this case, someone) else. But another part of him, the human in him, sees the way you look at each. The way you stroke Dante's arm as you speak. The way Dante unconsciously leans into you, as if drawing comfort from your touch. Guilliman sees all of this, and everything that lays unspoken beneath, and he feels... He feels happy. Hopeful. And maybe, though he'd never admit it aloud, he even feels a little jealous.

Before he can ponder that point any further, you address the Primarch again. "Well, Lord Guilliman, it was an honour to finally meet you. But I'm afraid I must steal my husband back for a moment."

Blinking his reverie away, Guilliman nods. "Of course, my lady." He stifles a wince at how quiet his voice has become. "It was... It was a pleasure meeting you, as well."

You flash a brilliant smile. Dante simply nods. Rather than wait for you both walk away, however, Guilliman takes his leave first. Turning on his heel and retreating back to his earlier vantage point. For the rest of the night, however, his thoughts remain on the pair of you. Swirling amongst pleasure, melancholy and other things he does not yet know how to label.

********************************************

The moment that Guilliman is out of earshot, Dante sighs in relief. "By the Throne," he mutters. "That went better than expected."

You raise an eyebrow. "What went better than expected?"

Finishing his wine, Dante sets the empty glass down on a table as you walk past. Then, you feel him squeeze your hand; the one you have threaded through his arm.

"You and Lord Guilliman," he says softly.

You take a moment to study your husband's face. You find it wrought with undeclared anxiety. Slowing to a halt, you turn to face Dante, keeping a hold on his arm. "Why?" you ask gently. "Did you think he'd disapprove?"

His grip on your hand tightens. "I thought he would take you from me."

You find the suggestion humorous- as if you'd let anything get between the two of you- but upon seeing the stress still lingering on Dante's face, you do not say so. Instead, you ask, "Why would he do that?"

Dante looks at you ruefully. In spite of his feelings, it seems your naivety has amused him somewhat. "Space marines are weapons, sweetheart," he answers. "The only things our hearts are supposed to feel are duty and honour. Not..."

Gently, you finish his thought for him. "Not what we have."

Dante smiles sadly. "Exactly."

"Well... Guilliman said outright that he doesn't disapprove. So, that must bide well, right?"

"That could change," Dante argues.

"If it does, we will fight it."

"And if we cannot?"

Sighing, you set your glass aside. Then, you reach up to cradle his cheek. Immediately, he leans into your palm.

"Then nothing," you say softly. "It will change nothing. No matter what does or doesn't happen, Luis, I'm not going anywhere. Remember what I said? You'll never have to manage without me again."

Draping your arms around his neck, you pull him into a hug. You feel him grab you around the waist, forearms pressed against your lower back and pulling you flush against his front.

"I love you," he whispers into your ear.

You nuzzle into his hair, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He smells delicious; of musk and sweet spice.

"I love you, too, " you reply.

For several, tender moments, you remain locked in each other's arms. Many passers-by eye you curiously. Some even begin to gossip. But neither of you pay them any heed. In fact, neither of you even notice them. Eventually, you're the first to draw away, but it's only enough enough to meet Dante's eye. Your arms remain firmly wrapped around his neck. "I don't know about you, but I'm about ready to get out of here."

Absently, Dante begins stroking your back. "Is that why you pulled me away from Guilliman?"

You nod. "I've taken all the high lords and ecclesiarchy I can for one night." With a sigh, you rest your head on Dante's chest. "Between that and meeting a Primarch, I need some peace and quiet."

"I understand," Dante says. "And I agree. Although..."

"What?"

"Maybe you could hold off from the "peace and quiet" for little longer?"

You look up at him. "Why?"

Dante flashes a smirk. Through it, you make out the tips of his angel fangs. "My love," he says sweetly. "You've made me watch you glide around in that dress all evening..." He holds you tighter. Suddenly, you're accutely aware of how low down your back his hands rest.

You give him a sultry smile. "Well, in that case... I suppose I can." With that, you pull away, taking your husband by both hands and pulling him towards the ball room's exit.

Taglist: @solspina :)

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

Lit Hub: The Question of Homoeroticism in Whitman’s Poetry

Walt Whitman’s best poems demonstrate an almost unimaginable prescience; he and Dickinson, among 19th-century American poets, possess a nearly chilling self-consciousness, an acute self-analysis. Edward Carpenter, the British anarchist, writer, and champion of the Arts and Crafts movement whose life and romance were the model for E. M. Forster’s novel Maurice, wrote this elegant description of a visit with Whitman in 1877; the emphases are Carpenter’s own: “If I had thought before (and I do not know that I had) that Whitman was eccentric, unbalanced, violent, my first interview certainly produced quite a contrary effect. No one could be more considerate, I may almost say courteous; no one could have more simplicity of manner and freedom from egotistic wrigglings; and I never met any one who gave me more the impression of knowing what he was doing more than he did.” That there were words for homosexual behavior in Whitman’s day there can be no doubt. Social structures for enabling same-sex congress seem to have been a feature of life in the modern city at least since the later 18th century, when the “Molly houses” in London offered a zone of permission for transvestism. Herman Melville, in Redburn, carefully evokes the nattily dressed fellows who hang out in front of a downtown restaurant where opera singers perform; he means us to understand what these stylish outfits convey. Historian and theorist Luc Sante describes a 19th-century pamphlet that takes as its project the publication of the locations of various quite particular spots of diverse sexual practice in New York City—so that those informed of, say, the address of a bordello featuring willing boys can take special care to avoid this hazard. Trenchant evidence comes from Rufus Griswold’s review of the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass: “We have found it impossible to convey any, even the most faint idea of style and contents, and of our disgust and detestation of them, without employing language that cannot be pleasing to ears polite; but it does seem that someone should, under circumstances like these, undertake a most disagreeable, yet stern duty. The records of crime show that many monsters have gone on in impunity, because the exposure of their vileness was attended with too great indelicacy. Peccatum illud horrible, inter Christianos non nominandum.” Which is all a way of saying that Whitman inscribes his sexuality on the frontier of modernity; he is writing into being—particularly in the “Calamus” poems of 1860, with their frank male-to-male loving, their assumption of equality on the part of the lovers—a new situation. He does not know how to proceed—he has no path —but he does it anyway. My guess is that he couldn’t have written “Calamus,” or the boldly homoerotic portions of the 1855 Leaves, even ten years later, as the advent of psychology increasingly led to a public perception of the normative, and imagery of the sacred family becomes the object of Victorian romance. As a category of identity—sodomite, invert, debauchee, pervert, Uranian—begins to emerge, so the poems with their claims of a loving, healthy, freely embraced same-sex desire become unwriteable, paradoxically, just as new language of homosexual identity begins to appear. Unwriteable, and, it would seem from Whitman’s later remarks, and some of his revisions, barely defensible. Carpenter and his readers were reaching for signposts of a gay identity when such a thing barely existed, but Whitman is ultimately a queer poet in the deepest sense of the word: he destabilizes, he unsettles, he removes the doors from their jambs. There is an uncanniness in “Song of Myself” and the other great poems of the 1850s that, for all his vaunted certainty, Whitman wishes to underscore. Again and again, he points us toward what, it seems, must remain folded in the buds beneath speech, since it cannot be brought to the surface. (Full article)

[spacexseven]

i understand the appeal of god!reader hurting fyodor mentally, like its something i look forward to reading but imagine him sobbing when you praise him even a little bit or show him the slightest affection, i want that proud man dependant on me 😁

don't worry, he already is

cw: yandere character, slight anime spoilers

spread out before you was the final blueprint to what would soon become something pivotal to fyodor's—and by extension, your—plans. you studied it closely, looking at each floor, each room, each balcony. you studied the layout carefully, and find that everything had been chosen with careful consideration, from the tiles to the wallpaper, even the tables and the lights.

fyodor wordlessly places sheets of papers into your waiting hand, without you even having to ask. apart from the soft greeting he entered your room with, no other sound has escaped him yet; a stark contrast to his usual visits. but today is no ordinary visit. he has come to seek your guidance, and awaits your decision.

you're genuinely impressed; this amount of detail and meticulous planning would have taken weeks, if not months to prepare, and it strikes you again that everything fyodor was doing now was full of determination and care, even if he was callous about the lives lost along the way, he would have done anything to ensure this goal of his comes true. you suppose your presence has only encouraged him to work harder.

after another round of inspection, you sort out the papers he just handed you, the last remaining sheets from the book that had been aquired for the doa's use, and begin to write down the existance of the sky casino. you describe everything about it in great detail, not missing out even a word in fear that something would go wrong otherwise. and as you wrote, you can feel a familiar power surge through you, and you can almost see the casino come to life.

when you're done, you hand all your tools back to him. his serious expression hasn't changed since he stepped foot inside your room, and suddenly, you're seized with a unfamiliar, melancholic sensation.

"you've done well," you fill the silence, "you have...surpassed my expectations of you. to be honest, i thought it was a foolish pursuit at first, a casino in the sky. but you have proved yourself to me with this. tomorrow we will go see the casino—together."

fyodor's eyes widen, and his lips twitch ever so slightly.

you let out a chuckle, "i have to say, this expression suits you as well."

he lowers his eyes immediately, the tips of his ears flushed red and his hands trembling, clenched tightly around the papers and pen.

"this humble servant of yours only wishes to please you, my lord. i am not deserving of your praise," he whispers, "i am not deserving of your attention."

words cannot describe the immense satisfaction you feel from hearing the wavering of his voice, relishing in the effect you have over him.

"go now," you're already tired of his presence, though this was much more bearable than the usual routine, "and make yourself useful."

he doesn't look mad, despite your rude dismissal. you think even if you were to strike him down and humiliate him, he would still not be upset or angry. but this position suits him best; not that of the evil mastermind he portrays himself to be.

no, only you know the real fyodor dostoevsky.

[verdantwyrm]

Hi! Sorry to rant, I don’t know if it’d be appropriate, or if the theme has been discussed already… But you’re, like, the ambassador of Curly enjoyers to me, so I figured this would be my best bet.

The thing is, I’ve been quietly seething lately thinking about how much the perception & treatment of Curly post-crash is defined by his injury. Like, how much it would’ve changed if the man had at least retained his face.

(I mean, he is my fav character for many reasons and in a lot of ways, and yet when replaying the game I have to stop and remind myself every now and then that this is the same person we occasionally play as, with the same set of memories, traits, thinking patterns etc. Not because I forget the fact, but because of how easy it is to subconsciously divide them when he neither behaves nor looks the same anymore. I have a mind exercise of coming to the med bay as I have to pass by, to observe Curly where he lies on his gurney table and try to imagine his pre-accident version looking up at me from there. Something of an attempt to strengthen the associative connection and not be part of the problem.)

Imagine an AU where basically everything is the same but the cockpit didn’t catch fire during the crash, and instead the ship just stopped very abruptly, Curly hit the wall/control panel badly and broke his spine, leaving him paralyzed from the neck down. So he is aware but unable to move around or communicate effectively (like in canon), but also he’s completely recognizable. Now, I’m not saying people in the fandom wouldn’t have still treated him like a prop or a pet or a child or some kind of silly f/cked up mascot (bc some people are *****), but I bet my kidney the occurrence would’ve been considerably less common than it is now. And that’s it, that’s the point. The whole dehumanization thing going on is just disheartening.

Anyway, sorry once more if it was all over the place, didn’t mean to be rude... Thanks for listening and for all your committed work as an ambassador and an advocate!

Hi Anon! o(^-^)o Thank you so much! And do not apologise, you have no idea how much I appreciate you and others coming into my inbox and giving me their opinions, feedback and perspective of stuff! Curly is my favourite character as well and I will not tolerate slander! Especially when its just straight up incorrect.

But to answer your question, alot of Curly's post-crash dehumanisation does immensely come from the fact that he's lacking any real facial features. Real life burn victims that have suffered directly to their faces experience this basically every day. Because they lack a """normal""" face thats recognisable, alot of people subconsciously stop recognising these people as Human because they Do Not Look Like One.

Even people that are just double or triple amputees (or in Curly's case, a quadruple amputee) deal with an immense dehumanisation and infantilisation because they "lack the necessary equipment to be an adult human" and perform tasks on their own. There comes a very specific type of infantilisation towards disabled people and thats the utter denial and ignorance that once you "become" disabled you no longer have sexual desires, that you no longer function as an adult and anyone trying to have sex with you or engage with you in that way is a creep because to them you are the equivalent of a 10 year old.

Curly and how he's treated by the fandom and whatnot is significantly impacted by how he looks, and the example you give me of him managing to not burn all of his skin off but would become paralysed from the neck down, I know for a fact that if that was the case, he would be treated significantly worse because he cannot move. Canon Curly isn't paralysed, he's just in an excruciating amount of pain that reduces his movement, but he does still have somewhat control over his limbs. If he somehow ended up paralysed ontop of that, the treatment he receives would be way, way worse. And I can't even begin to describe what that would look like, but I know deep down in my gut that it absolutely would.

If he were to somehow not get burnt but still get paralysed like you said, I think his treatment could be different, but I'm not sure exactly how. He would absolutely still be dehumanised to an extent especially with being paralysed, but its the fact that he has a face that makes a difference. People might be able to remind themselves that he's a grown ass man, but probably not.

You going through the effort to conciously remind yourself that they are infact the same character is actually fantastic, and it shows that you're willing to see disabled people as human beings, real people, even in this case. And you're doing marginally better than alot of people who look at him and completely reduce him to nothing but a dog, creature or an "it" or "thing"

And it's also evident in how Jimmy treats him too, as a liability, that because he's in this state he can just strip away his title like it doesn't mean anything, dehumanise and project his own authority over. Jimmy does this with Anya and Curly, significantly so with her, but in an increasingly horrifying way with Curly.

And thank you so much Anon! Never apologise, I had alot of fun answering this question, and I will continue to work hard as Curlys ambassador and defender! ヾ(*・ω・)ノ

[dustykneed]

can you share some of your mirror verse hcs?

(gladly! ... as you can see this really got away from me in terms of length and i am SO sorry in advance for springing a whole short essay on you skdjsdh)

to open with a bit of a shocker, perhaps, well, the way i interpret the mirrorverse, i just... cannot see mirror mcspirk happening. now don't get me wrong! i think mirror spirk is absolutely possible, and in fact highly probable, and not even as just a sleeping together thing. i think their dynamic could absolutely yield a form of co-dependent emotional attachment on a highly personal level. everyone defines love differently, but i think that in the mirrorverse, if not love, it is certainly as close as you could get. but mirror mcspirk i actually can't see, believe it or not, and this is for a couple of reasons:

the thing about the mirrorverse is that it is all about the death of humanity (not humans, but for what we know as the human capacity for empathy, kindness and hope. i've seen the mirrorverse described as "the universe where no hope can survive". i think that is a very apt summary of what i explore here.) one key assumption of my interpretation of the mirrorverse is that the characters themselves, initially, are no different from how they are in any other universe at the core, and it is the varied external factors of the universe in which they exist that produces the people they become.

to examine the effects of the mirrorverse on the triumvirate, we might begin by looking at the original triumvirate's relationships with the concept of "goodness", with reference to the principles of ethos, logos and pathos.

one of the fundaments of kirk, as a character, is his relationship with goodness as a choice. he represents ethos, morality, in that his goodness is the result of a conscious decision to be good, to do good, as far as possible, to pick the least of any evils if he absolutely must and even if it is difficult, to keep going for the greater good. in the end, it all boils down to his core motivation to be a net force of goodness on the world, or in other words, to train his eyes on the bigger picture when interacting with the situation at hand and to believe that goodness can always prevail in the sense that he will have a net positive impact on the world around him.

spock, on the other hand, is arguably characterized by his relationship with defining goodness. his struggle to reconcile logic and emotion goes hand in hand with his desire to know if, and why, what he is doing is right-- logos. other vulcans rationalize displays of emotion by interpreting them through the lens of logic. spock, i think, is unable to do this because while he has been taught that emotions are illogical and undesirable, and internalizes this to perhaps a far stricter extent than most vulcans due to being held to unfairly high standards to prove himself "vulcan enough", he recognizes on a subconscious level that there is no inherent contradiction between logic and emotions, and that goodness is a mixture of value judgements and rational, ethical methodology.

but mccoy, i think, is a little different, in that goodness in itself is what defines him as a character. instead of ethos (making the right decision) or logos (understanding what makes something right), mccoy's pathos (an unrefined, innate compulsion for goodness; something similar to mencius' theory of good human nature) is not a conscious decision or a principle of action, but a visceral, impulsive, desperate, sometimes irrational and neurotic need to do good no matter the cost, simply because he instinctively knows that it is the kind thing and therefore the right thing to do-- which, sometimes, makes him disregard the bigger picture, and, ironically, do the wrong thing out of irrationality.

(to digress-- i actually think that kirk is actually far more logical than we sometimes give him credit for, especially in the context of spirk. the dynamic of a logical, stoic character and an emotional, affectionate character whose very souls find solace in one another is a hugely compelling and moving one, and i cannot fault people for applying that dynamic to their relationship-- but, well, by virtue of being relatively less direct associations of their character dynamics in the context of slash, i think what happens sometimes with spones, mckirk and mcspirk is that in the process of fumbling around for ways to fit them together believably, people often end up doing a greater degree of exploration of their character dynamics and nuances that is like catnip to me xD)

for kirk and spock, as men whose worldviews are rooted in tangible logic, where the goodness they have seen is the driving force for their pursuit of morality, i do not doubt that without external proof of goodness as a feasible, worthy path, the same traits that grant them their steadfast belief in humanity and hence their great devotion to goodness will be the traits that drive them to turn away from that goodness in the mirror universe. in a world where hope cannot survive, where cruelty and ambition are the only constants, kirk's resourcefulness prompts him to adapt to his environment and seek what he sees as the bigger picture-- ambition and power. spock, a being of logic, observes that cruelty is simply how the world functions, and as a result applies this science to his interactions with it, seeking power not because of a specific ambition, but, again, because it is a logical course of action according to his observations.

i see spirk as highly probable in the mirrorverse precisely because of how alike they are in this regard. they are capable of great compartmentalization of personal sentiments in order to do what they consider "the right thing", or take the "logical course of action", and this is what makes them effective in command roles, where dwelling on the implications of a wrong decision could either kill you from the sheer crushing guilt, or kill more of your men because of your indecision. they are comfortable in their pursuit of power by use of force because they have internalized the rules of the mirrorverse, and are able find solace in each other because they are evenly matched as opponents and a force to be reckoned with when in alliance, which gives them the space to develop that personal attachment and tension in the first place.

but mccoy? mccoy's goodness isn't rooted in logic, and as a result, this facet of his character largely remains untouched even in the face of the greatest cruelties and atrocities his world can offer. his great stubbornness (or illogic, or perhaps even self-delusion) lends him the ability to, against all odds, still believe that people are inherently worthy of kindness and compassion. he believes in good without ever having experienced it, because his belief in good is illogical by nature.

i have no doubt that mccoy would possibly love kirk, and spock, in part simply because he resonates subconsciously with the capacity of kirk and spock to show great kindness. it is possible that he sees the apparitions of what they could have become, had the world not been so unkind to them, and his love for them is tinged with an undercurrent of mixed grief and disgust, and pity. but fundamentally he doesn't trust spirk-- and because of that i think he could never bring himself to truly fall in love even though he has the capacity for it, because that would require betraying his love for humanity.

i think, based on the way mirror kirk and spock likely treat mccoy, as technically their subordinate (and especially in mirror mirror, when mirror spock mind melds with mccoy to figure out why he saved his life without so much as a moment's hesitation, because he doesn't see mirror mccoy as a threat, so why would a mccoy from a softer, kinder universe ever be anything more?) i wouldn't be surprised if they saw mccoy as... lesser. you know? they know that mccoy isn't capable of seeking power the way they do. that makes him weak. i think they trust him far more than anyone else other than each other, perhaps less out of respect for his profession or character, but more because they are able to clear him as a possible threat, as something too pathetic to seize power even when given the chance. they definitely have some interest in his motivations-- like you would a pet, or a plaything, because kindness makes you a target, a weakness, and a liability. a fascinating study, but ultimately, inadvertently disposable.

and it makes sense, in a way, that they are unable to bring themselves to ally themselves with mccoy the way they have each other, because in the mirrorverse, to believe in kindness is a death sentence. they might pity mccoy or regard him with contempt borne out of inexplicable regret, the same way mccoy pities them, for his wasted potential as an asset (and maybe even as a partner). by insulating themselves against their inevitable loss of mccoy, conciously or otherwise, they save themselves another hurt in their world where hope is a lost cause.

(i definitely have more bouncing around in my head about mirror bones especially, but i think 1.5k words is enough for one sitting LMAO so sorry i think i'm halfway in finals mode still. but this is why i could never take literature lol i can never help myself and it takes a lot out of me xDD)

(oh and @callofdooty i think the mirrorverse as a place where no hope can survive quote was from you during our conversations about mirror bones! but either way i think you might enjoy this hahah)

[colonelpancakes]

Watching The Dragon Prince Season Six Part Nine: Stardust! The time has come to see if Rayla will make it out of this season with the most parents. I hope so

Under the cut as per the usual!

Hey, the quote from the beginning of episode one! I wonder if we’ll find out more about him and that other Startouch elf given that he’s quoting them now.

Ohhh. Okay. I was entirely convinced that the quasar diamond was another fake. Whoops

Oh, Claudia, honey… 🥺

Skafjlk Something about Aaravos just suddenly showing up next to Claudia so that he can shush her is so funny to me. I think it might be Terry’s face.

HUH? EXCUSE ME??? That was not something I expected. Aaravos has a kid?? Hello?

Darling!!! Oh, honey. She looks so sweet!!! I love her already.

I am also already feeling immense dread because Aaravos is talking about her in the past tense and she isn’t here in present day. “Had a daughter” oh god. Something bad is going to happen to the baby isn’t it. I am not ready.

Sweethearttttt. Oh my god, the way that you can hear the love in Aaravos’s voice as he talks about her… It’s not an emotion don't think I could have pictured on him before this episode but it's so tangible, the voice acting in this episode is incredible. This episode is going to murder me isn’t it.

Also, I like how the terms he's using to describe her could also easily apply to Claudia whom he's trying to get to empathize with him. To connect her own love for her father to his love for his daughter.

Okay, this might be me reading into it but. The way his daughter's hands are held in this picture looks a lot like the way I flap my hands when I stim. Is Aaravos’s daughter maybe neurodivergent? Either way, I love her already, she’s so sweet.

Give Aaravos’s VA an award. The RANGE this man has, spanning from threatening to playful to right here where it’s so soft and sad and full of love for his daughter.

Also, the adoraburrs!!! Look at her!!!

…I am remembering vividly that response from the writers when someone asked if the Startouch child in the intro was a younger Aaravos and they responded that the child was Leola. Oh no. And again, the fact that Aaravos is talking about Leola only in the past tense… I am not ready for this episode oh no. NOTHING HAS EVEN HAPPENED YET AND I’M ABOUT TO CRY.

Also, the animators always do such an amazing job with Aaravos’s expressions. I just. Oh…

Callum, buddy, I don't think you're helping.

Oh, Rayla, honey… I might be wrong but I think that’s the first time Rayla has actually verbally acknowledged Runaan and Ethari as her parents. I know she’s called them her family before but I don’t think she’s called them her parents.

“Those coins will guide you. Each coin contains a fragment of a soul. On the other side, the rest of the soul longs to be whole again, for it cannot pass into death incomplete.”

I like the clarification of what the coins actually do to a person and why they’re worse than death. Because they don’t allow the spirit to achieve peace by passing on or allow them to continue their life, they trap them in between life and death. I also really like that they’re bringing back the stuff from Through the Moon.

Callum… I love them so much oh my gosh. He’s so nervous for her…

They're so sweet, I love them!!!

Ough and the fact that, to get her family back, Rayla has to dive into the lake despite her fear of the water.

OHH NOO I am getting Through the Moon flashbacks, Runaan??? Buddy?? I wonder if it’s a side effect of being in the coin? Are Rayla’s bio parents gonna be like that too?

While the corruption obviously isn’t great, I must say, I like the curly hair on Runaan.

RUNAAN. NO. No killing Rayla. Bad Runaan.

Rayla, honey...

Petition to give Rayla a break.

Oh, they’re dancing. Interesting. Maybe it's some kind of trance that Rayla needs to break them out of? Like there's a different challenge for each soul that she needs to overcome? I don't know, something definitely feels off.

Ohh… The way Claudia looks up at him, she's so enraptured in the story.

Baby!!! Baby girl!!

OH??? It looks like each side unlocks a different arcanum and a different version of the book, intriguing…

I wonder if there’s something particularly special written in the book or if it’s just a tome of knowledge of the arcanums. Rayla did originally think the cube was a piece from a children’s game, maybe in a way, she was right.

SKjafslkjf. Leolaaa. I love mustache Aaravos so much. And it’s so humanizing seeing such a different side of him. To have a moment where he’s not some all-knowing mysterious arch-mage but just a father with a young daughter who likes to poke fun at him sometimes.

Oh no!! Kiddo!

Aaravos being so gentle with the little kid…

Ohh Aaravos definitely knows whoever took Leola and by the look of it, he does not like them very much.

Also, I’m curious who the golden dragon was, that’s an interesting detail.

Continued in reblogs!

[not-actually-a-goddess]

Fable SMP Finale - Analysis & Thoughts

Holy shit, I cannot even begin to describe how much of an emotional rollercoaster watching the finale of Fable SMP was. I was sobbing one second, screaming in joy the next, laughing and smiling not soon after, and feeling anger or sickness. The pure emotion that the cast of Fable SMP put into this masterpiece is undeniable. And yes, I know it's silly little block people playing silly little stories, but their our silly little block people and their stories are huge! There were cutscenes with commissioned art!

The joy and comfort that Fable SMP has brought me over the past many months is massive. Their streams were around for me to watch when I was having bad days or needed something in the background while studying. Fable SMP was a multimodal storytelling wonder. And whilst I'm sad it's over, I'm happy it was there to start with. I came into this fandom at the mid-point of S2, and from then on, have been hooked. I love the art and the cosplay and the nice fandom with friendly, cosy chat communities. But anyways, let's get into this analysis. (also RIP Rakai, thankyou for romantically distracting Ick and making them forget about hunting the child, a.k.a Athena) Spoilers!!!!!!!!!! For anyone who hasn't watched the finale!

To start with, watching the complicated emotion portrayed by Sherbertquake through Icarus was incredible acting. The whole cast, including Fable himself (aka Mr. HeyHay's husband), displayed awesome acting that I'm jealous of and one day hope to be able to express. I loved watching Sherb change their expression, even minutely, as everyone just unloaded their trauma and screamed at Fable. I loved watching as they realised that maybe their dad wasn't the best guy, even though they knew it in the back of their mind the whole time. Hearing the raw emotion that each member of the cast poured into their act was impressive, and reminded me that you don't just have to be an actor to be good at acting. As of now, I'm still yet to watch HeyHays POV, but trust me I will, I just need to emotionally heal over the next couple of days.

Now onto the storyline of the finale. Now of course, I've only watched from Sherberts' POV, but here's what I think as of now. I started watching the episode effectively knowing what would go down, but I still came out surprised. At the start, I could definitely see the hesitance for action in Icarus but also their want for relief and the freeing of burden, still mostly trusting in their father. Of course, Icarus would always trust Fable at the start, he is their dad. Their dad who they've been missing all their life, whenever they actually needed him, he couldn't be there. Fable was also the one that promised Icarus what they wanted; peace, freedom from Quixis, their mother back, a happy united family, no more resets. Why wouldn't Icarus believe everything their father said? It's like a preacher in a pulpit. But as we moved further through the episode, we started to see everything fall apart. We could see pain, pain as people had to fight others they didn't want to. And then things started to unravel more as everyone entered Purgatory for the final show down. Our beloved Violet of course swooped in to save the day in the final second, saving Athena from Reaver by Fable's hand. Fable was then chained, which is ironic, as this whole scene reminded us of Fable's new mortality. That without the Reaver, he was nothing. And then, we finally got to see Icarus redeem themselves. I thought the glitching trident through the chest was very poetic and very Icarus. The creation destroying their creator in more ways than one. Fable was both Icarus's dad but also the creator of who Icarus had become over the last couple of months. He poisoned Icarus and turned them against their friends, so it was nice to see Icarus make things right and put Fable out of his misery. And then everyone was together again. The brothers were reunited, and I cried when we finally got to see Icarus and Rae get that much needed hug. Athena didn't immediately forgive Icarus, but that's fair, and Icarus understood that and was willing to move towards restoring their relationship. I suppose that's what happens when you push Athenas boyfriend off a tree and hurt Momboo. I think Arisanna staying back in Purgatory and working to restore it was a good move, and I'm excited to watch everyone else's epilogues. When it was time to Icarus to pass on, I was also really sad, because this meant the actual end for the series, especially for Icarus. It was nice to see Violet/Centross and Ick get closure and emotionally heal? And for Ick and Rae get a final goodbye.

Okay, so the art cutscenes? Awesome! They added finesse to the final scenes and made the project really elaborate and put together. I love @fruitsalad864 art, and I could definitely see bits of Silco in Fable. *chefs kiss* I think putting the art in grey background and black ink with touches of colour for emphasis and embellishment was a good creative choice and didn't make anything too busy. I loved the flashes of peoples eyes as they casted the spell to trap Fable, it was a nice way to include everyone into the art. But what do I know? I had to quit high school art classes in Grade 10, which is sad.

Anyways, Sherberts filmed end scene. Let's look at that. Well, we finally got to see Quixis' face, in fact we got to see all of Quixis and the world port. Does anybody know if the creators made the world port prop or they went some where to film. Because if so, kudos for being brave enough to film in a large public setting. The emotion and ambience in the moment was great, and finding out why all the wack has been happening to Icky was a big relief to know. Thankyou Quixis for protecting the wet bird from carrying the burden when they were too young and giving them time to grow up. You're our favourite god/not god kinda' person! Finding out that when Icarus were to take the position, everyone would forget about them past the point of when they died in the first reset, saddened me. But also, seeing Icarus accept this and take up the mantle with no hesitation was a good character development, showing that they're now a selfless person who will do anything for their family. But it's sad that Ick won't see them for a while and they won't remember what happened. But I was also happy, happy to see Icarus move on and happy to see the relief on all their alternate selves faces as Icarus took the spot as Quixis. The filming as we spun through the reel of Icarus's AU's was beautiful and had a good use of angles. The cosplays were awesome, and I've just got to say, the use of that piece of music was perfect, it gave a sense of hope, peace, and new beginnings. It was fresh and I almost felt the wind on my face. Thankyou @sherbertquake56 and your film crew for doing these scenes for us, they added the closure we all needed.

For now, I think I'm calling this a finish for my analysis. But I'll be back! Don't worry! I'll be doing some short analysis's of everyone else's epilogues and also ticking off the predictions I made earlier this year.

Signing out,

The Lady

[andbrokenmemories]

So it's weird how like. The Kennet girls are good at everything, aren't they? [pale spoilers ahead]

Like that's obvious, it's textual -- it's very textual, other characters being in something like awe over it over and over and over across the story. The girls are very good at this, and they have a deep well of power. This comes up continuously.

what's weird is thaaat a lot of the fanbase seem to like, enjoy that. Enjoy having protagonists who can play around with magic in a way Blake never ever could have. I kind of get that, I won't like shit-talk it too hard. (I do like Verona, y'know?)

But it's an interesting fact. Because Wildbow's the underdog protagonist guy! At least in action scenes, that's his whole thing! Taylor and Blake have to eat shit and die to claw their way to victory, and often those scenes work for me. And it's one of the things I think WB gets the most praise for? Like, from his established base. It's a conscious choice to not do that for Pale. He like, introduced the idea that this kind of wild practitioner would be especially powerful. He made that up for this book.

I wonder what that decision looks like -- after Ward, and Ward's issues, especially, since that seemed to be the first break from this. Underdog protagonists seem to be the default, for him; the thing he has most experience with. I've seen posts from him describing his process -- put characters against the wall without having a pre-planned out for them, so WB himself has to puzzle out exactly what they can use to make it out alive -- and he seemed to derive like... An actual enjoyment, out of it?

Yeah, there are fights in Pale where they're up against the wall... even one where, with Dire Consequences for us all, Wildbow had them lose because he couldn't see a way for them to win!

But it's not the same. I'd honestly say they usually lose because of their like, lack of full maturity -- their child soldier-y emotional rawness and uncertainty -- their lack of cohesion, as the book usually plays it. Lucy cannot stop John from joining the Contest because she can't hold her nerve against him. The girls cannot stop the murder plot from coming to fruition because they lack unity, aren't working together as a team. Emotional stuff. The girls have more tools in their box than any Wildbow protagonist before them, by far, but they can't always use them properly to get the W, for emotional reasons, for character reasons.

In theory, that's an interesting direction (maybe, possibly), and I should be relieved that Wildbow is trying something fresh. In practice... I've said I don't like Pale's fight scenes. I think Wildbow is plainly worse at this than the content of his previous works.

Part of this is seen in the Contest. Or, at least, how Wildbow Posts about it. If you can't tell, a specific WoG lives in my brain: Wildbow said once that he kept the story going past Break because he genuinely did not believe the trio could beat Maricica. I can imagine him doing his typical calculus for this, and what led him to that conclusion, maybe. For example, we've heard a lot about the ability of the Fae to manipulate stuff, aaaand to have the girls come along and undo all of that with minimal information to begin with wouuld sort of. Damage our belief in Faerie significance. Still, though -- cards on the table, here -- I think this was a Dumb and Bad choice. (It's a sidenote to this post, but I think it's very strange that, in-story the straw that breaks the camel's back is shown to be the Alabaster allowing shit to go on rather than throwing in with John, effectively a betrayer revealed moment -- a thing that, even if sorta his intention from the start, he could simply say 'aw beans i never really planned this out far enough' and just drop. for the sake of wrapping up a better story. and naturally i believe this would have been better also because it means we never would have fucking gotten White Woman Animus!! i digress. i digress.)

Maricica had weaknesses the story gave us to nibble on, and those weaknesses... are just kind of dangling threads, now? As of where I hopped off? like, guess she can't be that inexperienced with people if she became a goddess and started a cult and helped with all that red heron shit lol

So it's that thing I said, about fight scenes being more character driven. But then also, he's clearly thinking about this the same way as ever! As shown by his weird logic with framing the story going past Break as a thing he Had To Do, for Logical Reasons, or at least that weighing on the decision. a thing that is silly and i disagree with on it's face. right?

And then this shows in the sheer quantity of fight scenes -- if the girl's main limiter is internal emotional context and stuff........... uh... why are there so many fights? Why wouldnt the story naturally curve towards. having fewer fight scenes when theres no other way to square things away. that progress character arcs. whyyy do i care about fight scene 129 when i know how strong these girls are. whyyy are we fighting so many random others, and dedicating genuinely long segments of story to them, rather than montaging that shit? Getting it over with? If it has to be there at all? (for reference -- I just tried to think of a Random Pale Fight i fully don't think mattered. i selected the random like. angel summoner guy? with the fortnite constructor angel. that's a part of the musser invasion or whatever. this is a character with literally no substance, just a musser-side goon. From him entering the ongoing! fight to Lucy getting out of dodge is 4.6k words. Plague 12.7, the Mannequin fight, up to Mannequin leaving -- that's almost the entire chapter -- is 6.9k words. on the worm wiki, i saw there's a brief 'major events' summary of that chapter. i couldnt tell you the major events of the Pale chapter, of which that section of fight is like a third, maybe. lucy gets a bit more upset. lucy gets in a few quips against musser-side characters that actually matter but actually dont matter much to how that broader conflict is resolved. i guess.)

Wildbow writes any random fight the girls get into as being worth as many words as his fights in the past! the scrappy, pay-offy ones. bleh. My point in all this: you cannot simply set your protags up in the way I'm positing, here, and then continue to use the same vocabulary of every other serial anyway. it straight up doesn't work. it's exhausting. The Future is An Eternal Slaughterhouse 9000 Arc. Look, thats a criticism that boils down to 'web serials are too long'. And I'm not sure I care too much about web serials being too long! I have read longer web serials with longer fight scenes! I have written fiction with a longer average word count per chapter than Wildbow, at least during Worm! its a real criticism, but its not one im amazingly interested in personally. But the Kennet three could've had weaknesses to play around -- or at least, more weaknesses. We are in a Post-Pact world, and in this Post-Pact world, the magic in Pale really barely feels like it, uh, relies on discourse and presentation. like at all. And that seems like an option to give these characters obstacles! An option Wildbow gestures at during the Musser meta-arc!

but what struck me getting that word count comparison earlier, skimming that fight? The girls just aren't operating in that world. There's never a thought for presentation -- maybe sometimes, for a slight edge. But it never really matters, certainly not after the blue heron. They're using glamour as a workhorse tool, covering goblins in it for brief misdirects to get an edge in a fight; they're calling on the same shrine spirits over and over. They don't build up tools over a portion of story then cash them out for a satisfying win, they're just... strong. They have more items in their bags than Wildbow probably knows what to do with. Strong enough for just Lucy to dunk on any random set of practitioners, but not strong enough for the story to just skip that part, and not strong enough to just solve the plot until it's time to go fuck up Charles and end the story.

I know you could argue that I'm making this up, or that it's what some people prefer to what Pact was doing. But I just think it's not even what wildbow is good at! (and i always theorize that when wildbow is writing kind of bad, it's probably because he's not actually engaged or happy with what he's putting himself through. did he read a specific thing that made him personally excited to make the girls so versatile? I don't really know, but I don't get that vibe.)

And I have a couple of specific things I want to point out to try and prove this is like. a thing at all, to wrap up on: First, Glamour is used as this very, uh, soft magic thing, this very basic narrative tool. A pure mechanic of, like, mental states. If you're shaken, if you're uncertain, your glamour gives out on you -- if you shake your opponents, make them skittish, your glamour is better at misdirecting them. This is fiiine? But too vague for what Glamour is. Wildbow simply failed to properly present tradeoffs to one of his character's main action verbs, one that literally had those tradeoffs in Pact. And one last example to try and prove this: they dont even wear the hats and cloaks anymore duuude. Like, in my eyes: there was a very simple to read gambit being made, with the hats and masks and cloaks? You are awakening early, you will always have awoken early: You accepted an early shield against what that meant. A constructed image in place of the image of a fully-fledged adult, masking that youth; Whimsical and inherently magical, inherently wild. It's a very basic tradeoff, and one the story promises you it knows: even if they really would rather not have to go through the whole song and dance of suiting up, if it's tactically suboptimal or else they mature out of it and realise it's not for them, they will never be able to escape it -- not without giving up power. A mark accepted that cannot be given up. A mechanical restriction on their powersets to make up for some of their advantages, that also has some character relevancy. The Good Stuff.

except yeah it can. be taken off. it doesn't super matter. not really. they do plenty of magic without all the stuff on or even any of the stuff on -- it's rarely presented as an obstacle. it doesnt really matter. Because then, you see, they couldnt mature out of it and do cool stuff! it'd be. annoying. frustrating. they'd have to like. deal with changing past the natures they made for themselves. they'd have to. be characters. with character issues. that present themselves in fight scenes. you know?? what are we doing.

[sortofshea]

On the 15th day of @hprecfest this fandom gave to me...

Day 15: a fic over 50k

Title: Wild by seefin (now orphaned)

Pairing: Draco x Harry

Explicit | 92.7k words

Summary:

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.”

“I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

Why I recommend it:

This fic will forever be one of my all-time favourites. No matter how long it's been, I will periodically think about a scene from this fic, and then I am forced to go back and read it. No, really, there is some sort of cosmic force at play that compels me to return to it, and I am at the mercy of the drarry gods.

I wish I could describe the feelings that this fic evokes in me, but I genuinely am sitting here at a loss for words. I adore the original characters in this story, they are each so individual and entertaining and generally likeable. Moran is a total riot, and Bébhinn is an absolute force of nature.

Harry is kind of at the end of his rope in this fic. He's lost and frozen in time and still licking wounds from a war years past. When Draco shows up at the remote house in the Irish countryside that Harry has effectively been hiding at for about 5 years, his reaction is rather violent. Harry is so mean to Draco and unwilling to give him even the slightest of chances in the beginning, it honestly hurt my feelings reading it. He is completely justified in mistrusting Draco, sure, but he clings obstinately to the opinion that people don't change for quite some time.

Draco, for his part, is typically bratty about it all, but he really does try to make peace with Harry more than he tries to antagonize him. He's there to complete his potions mastery in peace, not revive his boyhood rivalry with Harry or dredge up the past. And boy, oh boy, does Harry intend to dredge up the past time and time again.

They have a very emotional conversation/argument in the final chapter where Draco says something like, "sometimes I worry about how mean we are to each other" and that line lives rent free in my head. I like my drarry a little toxic, okay? If you like fics where Harry is mean to Draco, this one will not disappoint. If you also like fics where they can be unexpectedly soft and honest with each other, this one will also come through.

As for the world building, I must sing my praises. The explanations of the wild magic that is so connected to the land and nature in this story are so breathtakingly well done. The powerful wandless Irish witches that Harry lives with have stayed with me since my first read. I cannot stress enough exactly how much I loved them. The differences in magic in Ireland physically and socially are fascinating, and the potions training Draco receives is uniquely original.

This fic permanently lives in my top 10. I'd honestly be hard-pressed to choose another one that manages to invoke such intense emotions in me.

[eeblouissant]

in this essay I need to talk about the way Dorothy acts around & reacts to stan in this clip (season 4 ep 5) specifically or I will simply perish.

enjoy the unorganized (unedited, and definitely not reread) chaos, this will be more of a ramble than anything - it’s so late & I need to get these thoughts out of my head before I explode.

Firstly, the clip in question:

( 1:15 - 2:22 )

now. Oh boy. Where do I even begin.

As much as I know it was done for comedic effect; the way Dorothy doesn’t hesitate to let herself cuddle into stan (STAN!!! CUDDLING. with STAN. And **publicly** there are so many layers here) when he puts an arm around her, describing what probably were the happier times Dorothy’s mentioned having with him despite it all (or at least a version of them. his version, that he’d created in an attempt to persuade her, as we learn pretty quickly) - oh god it just breaks my heart. She lets herself feel those memories for just a moment, before it all inevitably comes crashing down again. The way she snaps so quickly… that’s something we do not see in younger Dorothy. Younger Dorothy comes off much more passive-aggressive leaning more on the passive (shy?) side, she’s just very logical & no nonsense (but not in the way she is now). That’s something that Dorothy never really loses - Whereas current Dorothy has lost that (passiveness) completely with stan, and seems find it natural to come off as “aggressive” & dominating around/toward others. So - that ability to shut off & become defensive like that, & so fast, was developed later on. She’s got a bite now that was learned, because she had to bite to survive. For her own sanity. Do you know how much work that would take to unlearn & heal, if she ever even tried? oh my. Yeah I’m not well. I don’t think she would have much faith in it changing either, it’s become such a part of her. I think she would feel a little lost without it.

That first bit kills me - but what kills me about this scene most, is that last bit. Where she tries to push back further with a comment she know will be funny and just a little hurtful (towards stan, im sure she thought) and that will further deflect. But it backfires and hurts her instead. Her voice breaks. It breaks and her eyes soften and it looks like that just for a moment she lets the hurt shine through. Because that is especially painful, she cannot bury it. Her entire demeanour changes as those last few words are delivered (and Oh My God do they register fast - like she’d reopened that wound having no idea it was going to sting so badly.) and I just - oh my GOD. For that split second she looks like she might crack, the pain in her voice is so clear. & then the walls go right back up & it’s pushed right back down. I cannot deal. I absolutely cannot. Dorothy has let herself be vulnerable in the past, but has there ever been more than maybe (maybe) a handfull of instances where her voice & face soften that way? Anyway, I’m absolutely losing it over those little details. I’ve yet to find another scene where it feels like younger Dorothy shines through in the current. It hurt my heart so good and I cannot stop thinking about it :’) I think this is my sign to rebinge every episode in order. Because I am definitely forgetting - there has to be more.

Okay that’s all for now! If any of you have any thoughts or personal fav scenes (etc) to share as well please feel free!!! Dorothy angst seems to be my drug of choice lately lmao

(like two bits of this were my own interpretations of Dorothy’s character based on observation, don’t take them as canon nor am I claiming they are, because we obviously don’t know exactly what happened in between + younger Dorothy didn’t have much screen time :’)! Headcanons are just so much fun to throw around!!)

She <333 <33333333 <3 <3 <3 heart heart heart xxoo literal angel

[fawnforevergone]

Dante's Inferno References in Hozier's song "First Time" (+ a lil' song explanation) !!

Guys, I know I did the whole "Dante's Inferno references in 'Unreal Unearth'" already but I have thought of more things particularly with "First Time" and it's context of being in circle one, 'Limbo'.

Firstly, important context that 'Limbo' isn't so much a punishment as it is a placeholder in Inferno. It's for the unbaptized and virtuous pagans, essentially those who did not believe in God and therefore could not enter heaven, but also didn't do anything bad enough to be punished in the other eight circles. The punishment is to live eternally in circle one whilst feeling an infinite sensation of emptiness that is meant to represent the lack of God in their lives.

Now, moving onto the song and the GENIUS that it is.

"And the soul, if that's what you'd call it, uneasy ally of the body, felt as nameless as a river, undiscovered underground." The lost souls of Inferno find their way to their assigned circle by using the 'transportation system' of the five rivers of the Underworld. The first river that Dante and Virgil encounter is the river Acheron that Charon, the Greek psychopomp that transported souls through the underworld, delivers them down to arrive at Limbo.

Another one of the five rivers of the Underworld is the well-known river Styx that souls had to cross over in order to enter the afterlife. All of these things are referenced in this one lyric.

"And the first time that you kissed me I drank dry the river Lethe." Here, Hozier mentions another one of the five rivers. Those who drank from the Lethe would experience mental oblivion, unable to remember anything. Souls who were to be reincarnated usually drank from this river in order to forget their past lives. Hozier is also referencing the idea of being reborn, as he does throughout this whole song, but instead he's reborn by the relationship he has with his partner.

"As it was, and ever shall be, unearth without a name." This lyric seems to be a reference to the 'Glory Be' prayer - "As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end." As aforementioned, Limbo's punishment is a never-ending emptiness; It's described as sorrow without torment, something so deprived that rational minds couldn't comprehend it. Hozier's "unearth without a name" mirrors the prayer's "world without end", showing that Limbo has the same infinity that God intends the world to have, but Hozier cannot even put a name to the feeling of Limbo, only that it is underground.

"Some part of me must have died/Some part of me came alive the first time that you called me 'Baby'." This lyric repeats throughout the whole song with minor changes, and references back to that idea of being reborn that Hozier establishes from the very start of the album with "De selby (Part 1)". The album compares Hozier's relationship with his partner to the journey of 'Inferno', and here we see Hozier effectively 'dying' as the relationship begins, allowing him to enter Limbo reborn as who his lover made him.

"These days I think I owe my life to flowers that were left here by my mother. Ain't that like them, gifting life to you again?" Since we have the context that Hozier is now 'dead', this lyric can be seen as his mother leaving flowers on his grave, literally gifting his body life. In the following lyrics, Hozier compares his life in Limbo to the life of the flowers gifted to him.

"This life life lived mostly underground, unknowin' either sight nor sound, 'til reaching up for sunlight just to be ripped out by the stem." Flowers are birthed beneath the soil on Earth, as Hozier has been reborn beneath the world in Hell, both lives lived underground. The theme of darkness that is regularly visited in both 'Inferno' and the album is shown here "unknowin'...sight", where the darkness of Inferno simulates a sort of blindness. The second half of the lyric references that loss of hope in Limbo, mirroring it to the idea of a flower being torn away from its only purpose of growing - similarly to how a soul is torn from its only purpose of living.

"Sensing only now it's dyin', drying out then drowning blindly, bloomin' forth its every colours in the moments it has left." The literal meaning of this lyric is the act of pulling flowers from their roots to simply put them in vases of water. The metaphorical meaning is Hozier attempting to hold up hope in Limbo. "Unreal Unearth" is very clearly a breakup album, and "First Time" tells us the compressed story of the relationship from beginning to end. We can take this song as Hozier beginning to lose faith in his relationship but desperately holding on, the way flowers know they're dying in a vase but continue blooming nevertheless.

"To share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering, but fighting off, like all creation, the absence of itself. Anyway." Again, this references the ideas of flowers dying in a vase whilst trying to live cut off from their roots. The idea of "infinitely suffering" gives us that imagery of Limbo, but "fighting off...the absence of itself" also emphasises Hozier's attempts to rekindle this relationship the way flowers ignore the prospect of death in the hopes of living for a few moments longer. This little "anyway" at the end gives us the impression that, like Limbo, this is hopeless, and, as the flowers will, Hozier's relationship will die.

"When I was young I used to guess, 'Are there limits to any emptiness'?" The whole third verse shows us the final breaking of the relationship, but this lyric shows us that specific hopelessness that is felt in the decay of love. It really wraps up the idea of Limbo in this relationship; this soft acceptance that their love has died no matter how hollow it makes Hozier feel.

I personally think he is once again a MASTERMIND. Relating the death of a relationship to the wilting of flowers, especially flowers forced to stay alive, is perfect, like are you kidding me. Anyway, yes! That's my extra fathoming of "First Time" because there is simply too much to say.

If anyone else has anything to say, please lmk because there's nothing more I love than a Hozier deep dive :]

[branwyn-the-half-witch]

The Wall and the Waning of Magic: 2/2

(this was originally a Twitter thread; re-posting here for ease of reading)

Why Do We Build The Wall?

There are three possibilities I would offer regarding the nature of the Wall on the basis of these observations. Firstly, due to the sheer age of the Wall and the scarce-remembered events, one tantalising possibility is that everyone is wrong, and the Wall was not built as a defence against the Others, but BY them as they fled North from the powers of the Last Hero, Azor Ahai, the monkey-tailed girl, the choirs of the Rhoynar and every other half-remembered hero.

This seems absurd, but the Wall is made of ice, and described often in the same terms as the ice-swords of the Others.

It plainly does not keep out the Others or their servants, as we have indisputably seen, but does potentially cut off the magic of a skinchanger, blocks the agent of the 3EC (allied to the singers) and drains and distresses dragons.

In short, it has a negative effect on all those who could feasibly be described as the enemies of the Others. And yet, when Jon Snow sees it, he is seized with the necessity of keeping the Wall up.

He knows that if the Wall falls, the world falls; but what, famously, does Jon Snow know?

This may be a magical compulsion to ensure the Wall remains, whilst the enemies of its makers are drained by it, weakened to the point where they cannot thwart another Longer Night. It is often asked why the Others woke now, why are the dead marching now? Perhaps it was simply finally time; the dragons gone, the singers and giants barely a memory (and forced closer to the Others geographically than to anyone who might help them). The last great greenseer old, fading and unable to flee.

If Azor Ahai took dragons to war against the dark, if the singers aided the Last Hero...those things seemingly could not happen this time.

Another option is that the Wall – which does have foundations of stone, even if it is largely ice by now – was not initially thus but became corrupted. And we have a ready-made candidate for who may have done that. The Night’s King is a contemporary of Joramun, whose horn can allegedly bring down the Wall (more on him in a moment), married an Other (so they must have still been there) and held the Night’s Watchmen in thrall.

Perhaps his great sin was building or infecting the Wall to begin with, and once it began to drain the magic, magic was not strong enough to throw it down. This man, an enemy of humanity in much the same way as Craster and Euron, chose his side and aided it well, if so. And this may explain why the Black Gate, a creation of the singers, looks decayed, has been blinded and appears to be grieving.

Giants and the Horn of Joramun

However, if either of the above were true, then we should have heard of it by now from someone, surely? We have met some surviving singers, and a greenseer who all have access to the knowledge and memories of their ancient comrades. Surely this would have come up?

So suppose the Wall was build as described and is functioning as designed. Does that mean it isn’t draining magic, and this is all just very coincidental? I think it still is draining the world, because such an enormous ward must require something to power it.

But let me offer a solution: the Wall was always intended to come down.

Joramun was a King Beyond the Wall who joined with the Starks in throwing down the Night’s King. His Horn, sought by Mance, is allegedly capable of bringing the Wall down.

Now, Mance found a horn, which Mel burns, but that horn was assuredly not THE Horn. Its suspected that the actual horn maybe somewhere Old, soon with a side helping of squids.

But why was the fake horn convincing? Tormund tells us that this was because the fake horn was found in a giant’s grave – and the Horn brings down the Wall, we are told, by waking giants from the earth.

The ‘horn that wakes the sleepers’ if you will. My contention is therefore that Joramun was a giant, one of the very ones who helped build the Wall, and that his horn was fashioned as a failsafe to destroy what was made when it was no longer necessary.

Perhaps the hope was, with the singers and giants and First Men closer than ever, with dragons in the East and heroes aplenty the world over, the threat would be held at bay and the gifting of their combined magic to keep the defences strong was a willing sacrifice on all parts. But men forget, and war destroys records, and Doom came upon the dragons.

Conclusion

We are shown at length that, from a humanitarian standpoint, the Wall is evil. The Free Folk are demonised in ways that cannot possibly be true, they are hunted like beasts and left in horrible danger when the real threat arises. What are they if not the men the Night’s Watch swear to defend, as Jon comes to ask? What original sin did they commit, other than living on the other side when it was built?

The Wall also dehumanises and destroys those who serve upon it. The world would be better without the Wall, physically and magically. GRRM has said that the seasons will be restored to normal by the end, and whilst we don’t know the details of what is going to happen, but we all agree – that wall is coming down.

JRR Tolkien posits, through King Theoden, that ‘oft evil will shall evil mar’; if Euron Greyjoy, the Night’s Pirate King, does indeed bring down the Wall and lets winter in, perhaps he shall have done a greater good than he would ever had intended, and given us a chance for spring thereafter. Let’s not thank him for it, though.

Original thread here: https://x.com/BranwynHlfwitch/status/1768776863961243700