#it lacks some parts but otherwise is a good structure

[honehonn3honey]

A protection that becomes more creepy

Azul in my heart. You can see the original art here and read the monster list here @lustlovehart

[Alt under the cut]

My first concept, since my style could not simulate the texture of slime in its purest state

It is quite thick so water can not enter or wet. Only small puddles where you can accumulate

It is a monster and that, magic, but I can imagine that it can only reach a height by the pressure, it can come out expelled sometimes

[bibiana112]

Finished Danganronpa Lapse and tbh nobody gets it like I do because every review I've seen wasn't made by someone who's played zero escape Why did Echo do that? ZTD shifting strats that's why! Lyle's canonically a zero escape nerd who brings up the morphogenetic field as a quick joke and is introduced arguing about the funyarinpa, do I think all these references get in the way and that it's a bit underwhelming when this comes unexplained out of nowhere? Absolutely! But it's so clearly an element the creator was inspired by and wanted to include and play with rather than a lazy last minute deal to fix 'plot holes'

[utilitycaster]

Whenever people are like "well LIAM'S characters never faced any backlash when HE played characters in the spotlight" and "no one will let WOMEN have negative qualities" when Caleb and Vax and Orym have received pretty constant hate for main character/sadboy/scene stealing and when meta writers outright stopped talking about Imogen because a particularly mindless set of hit dogs are still hollering about how she is so good and kind and how dare you call her selfish, it's really like...in the service of trying to make your failure of a point you've just said something that literally anyone with a memory lasting longer than the apocryphal goldfish length can immediately debunk, which in turn absolutely shreds your credibility going forward, if you had it.

More generally there's something very vile here, because on the surface this statement does look like an attempt, if one ignorant of pretty much any fandom conversation, to defend women. The thing is it's come from a place of defending Dorian and Ashton's plan - a man, and a nb person who would not identify as a woman - that requires a particularly great deal of sacrifice from the women of the party. So of course they just switch tactics. Instead of "how dare the fandom not think women are always best" it's "how dare the fandom disrespect a disabled nb person and a person played by an indigenous actor." And I'm sure they'll switch again. Because pretty much every character in this campaign is on some axis of oppression, and there's a few people in this fandom who, instead of considering these things as important details that inform these characters, seem to largely treat their minority statuses as ammunition. Feminism and antiracism and queer advocacy are all just part of a shell game to them - accuse everyone who disagrees with them of being a bigot, say that their opinions are inviolate because they match that of literally any character who isn't a cis het white man, of which Bells Hells has none. Unsurprisingly, it's that social media purity culture that's just the evangelical church with a gay hat: they are always the victim, and everyone who disagrees is the devil, and being a good person always happens to line up with what you already wanted.

There are several posts from the past day or so accusing people of liking Campaign 3 less than the two previous ones which refused to accept that this might be due to the hurry-up-and-receive-an-infodump pacing, the singular focus without much time spent on backstory, the gaps in party composition, and the fact that the plot manages to combine the weakest elements of each campaign - the fetch quest/NPC guidance heavy nature of C1, and the meandering/slow start of C2. No, it must be the awful, sinful fandom unable to handle the lack of a major M/M ship (false; Dorian and Orym aren't canon, but neither were Vax and Gilmore, and the latter was sunk far sooner) and the fact that a female character is at the center of the story (see above re: how hostile the same people making these accusations have been to anyone who actually wants to discuss Imogen in a way that doesn't fit their specifications). Just to repeat this: many fans have outlined a number of purely narrative and structural reasons why C3 isn't working for them. These people have assumed this is all a lie, because assuming otherwise that would require either addressing these critiques, which in turn would require admitting other people can have valid opinions that oppose their own without being horrible bigots - in favor of throwing out whatever random accusations they think might stick. It doesn't matter what's actually being said; they're not actually listening, and for all they might talk about fans of color they sure all seem to be white; for all they talk about misogyny and queerphobia they sure won't hesitate to immediately assume the worst of queer people and women who say things they don't like. And rarely do they address any of the actual ongoing bigotry that does exist in the fandom; it's all random accusations because you agreed with the white woman instead of the brown man or vice versa; or it's the constant dredging of years past discourse that, as the first paragraph indicates, they will then ignore whenever convenient.

These are all pretty transparent signs of a bad faith actor spreading misinformation. To be clear I don't think this is any kind of conspiracy or has any organization to it. I think it's a just handful of deeply self-absorbed people who either refuse or literally cannot comprehend that someone could disagree with them without being a bad person and who will gleefully cry wolf with these accusations of bigotry. But it's been going on for quite some time and it's been a problem this campaign in a way I at least do not recall it in past ones, and it's had an absolutely devastating effect on the fandom conversation. Ironically, by trying to boost Imogen and Campaign 3 by shutting down any criticism of them, they've shut down far more of the conversation, hopefully not irreversibly, and I think it's time to point that out.

[sharkenedfangs]

— ☆ “BITTER SWEETNESS IS BEST SERVED COLD.”

loser — loser robin, won’t you please choose him for once ? being neglected hurts, y’know.

“Tell me I’m the only one then.”

“Huh?” Slightest tilt of your head, puzzled eyes deftly meeting his in the dimly lit shade of the otherwise desolate room— home, you’d call it. Not due to its particular comforts, quite the opposite, really, but the sheer familiarity that’d seamlessly wash over you when tirelessly stepping foot once more in the rundown, dusty orphanage.

Strung cobwebs precariously hanging below the ceiling, disgustingly abundant in some forgotten corners of the narrow hallways the younger orphans had stubbornly refused to clean any further— lest Bailey caught them in the careless act to then, drag them towards their private office for a good spanking. Some daring enough to daringly peer any closer, though at most, they’d instinctively shuffle back with a muted giggle and shriek before ultimately, tumbling back to join the others. Home, not because it was necessarily comfortable nor the most luxurious of places, but ‘home’ thanks to the people, the muffled laughter endlessly echoing throughout the creaking, wooden structures and the numerous, clumsy children riddled in purplish bruises and missing teeth. Wasn’t the best of the best, yet you’d still automatically refer to it as such since where else could you possibly be?

However, you suppose that someone here had subconsciously decided otherwise by the pouting look adorning Robin’s freckled features, deceptively glancing downwards in a clear display of utter disappointment on his part. Discreet shuffle of his feet distinctly reverberating along the ancient — definitely in need of some renovation or something — floorboards, progressively teetering closer to where your slouched frame comfortably rested atop their single bed.

Carefully following upon each and every one of his movements with your watchful eyes struggling to adjust to the pitiful sight greeting you; Robin— your childhood friend, foster sibling more than anything else, and maybe lover if you’d actually allow yourself to wistfully call ‘em that — lowering himself to where your feet hang along the edges of the squeaking mattress. Lovingly nuzzling his squished cheek against the inner part of your thigh, faintly covered by the fabric of your pants, spot he particularly liked to occupy. Neatly nestled between the gap of your spread legs which is— ah, sort of prime a blowjob position, but you should probably not be fixating on that certain part despite the burning heat that comes to streak your cheeks scarlet in that same, similar shade.

“Tell me I’m the only one.” Same utterance easily slipping past between his parted lips, those doe eyes of his, prettily glimmering in the golden rays of sunlight reflected against the glassy window— fuck, really, it’s not fair how he knows when to utilize that ‘puppy dog eyes’ card on you. Specially in this specific situation where your clammy hands hastily become sweaty in return, fumbling mouth unable to articulate those five, simple words he so longingly wishes to hear fall forth from your open lips. Teeth instinctually nipping at the pouty flesh of your bottom lip, furrowed brows deepening in blatant confusion as to where this desperate need of affection is suddenly coming from. Something to satisfy him— shit, something.. something, anything at all, really. Unfortunately finding none to supposedly soothe the growing wound forming in his thudding heart.

And in response to your dreadful silence, he merely insists further so that you may eventually abide to his burrowed whims. Delicate tracing of his calloused fingertips across the length of your legs, skin mainly bruised by the lack of care towards his own self, not like Kylar whose inattentiveness comes from self-neglect and petty bullying— more.. out of rebellion for the lifestyle this cruel, nameless God from above in the silver clouds has forcibly shoved upon him.

“Do you not love me?” It’s barely heard— still, you faintly catch the slight tremble in that question, visible begging of a last-resort plea. Tearful choke caught up in his bobbing throat as though your best friend was on the verge of pathetically sobbing, on the precarious edge of practically spilling out his held sorrows and burst into a childish fit of tears. Please, please— Say yes. Nothing, but yes, please?

“What? Of course! I do, Robin! Why’re you suddenly asking that? ..’Course, I love you— love you a whole lot, y’know.” Quick to frantically prove otherwise with a shake of your head, stupidly stuttering over your words of all times— goddammit, why wouldn’t you? Thought you would’ve evidently showcased it more than enough times by the.. gestures you’d make towards the orphan in the early morning of the day, before school or maybe, after— whenever you had the free time, really.

Kiss of his cheek, embrace of your protective arms snugly looped around his frame when immersing himself in another video game. Snidely offering to accompany him to the movies, tenderly holding your hand in his when returning back from the pleasant date. Little shots thrown his way as you literally stripped yourself bare in front of your childhood friend with your fuckin’ cock in his shield of vision or was that not enough to salaciously prove it? Nor the nights spent in the dark of his room, shuffling amongst the cotton sheets and legs affectionately entangled within each other all the while whispering sweet nothings in the shell of his ear. Not enough at all? “Hah, you’re acting weird right now. What’s the matter?”

What’s the matter? Truly, by now, the meaning of the act itself should’ve surely gotten through your otherwise thick-skulled, stubborn head, no? Unless you’re playing dumb as per usual— leading him towards this carefully fabricated result you’ve so attentively picked within your decisive mind. Nose burrowed deep along the edge of your thigh, fluttering lashes briefly tickling here and there before his pink, sweet tongue comes to subtly dart out and stupidly stain your pants sheer in a mess of their spit. Ah, you’ve gotta be kidding— that’s not, that’s not the place.. for— fucking.. using that sort of tactic.

“But, you also love other people, don’t you?” A subject that was never meant to be fully confronted either, perhaps a silent, unspoken agreement to never entirely bring it up to begin with, however it was bound to happen anyway. Whether or not it were to be you or Robin, it seemed he had already let go of that shared promise by then. Truthfully, he’s consciously aware that he should’ve been more upset, added some scolding here and there in the pitch of his trembling voice— yet, he can’t truly be mad at you, can he?

That’s right, the sole thing he’s merely capable of is to miserably wallow at your feet, bitterly appear to you like a kicked mutt being thoroughly neglected by its owner. Pouty lips, puffed out cheeks and narrowing eyes adoringly gazing up at you with such tender, puppy love affection despite it all because no matter how much you may possibly hurt him— Time and time again, he’d still end up inevitably crawling back to you. Pathetic, isn’t it? All he’s got, though.

“I..” Aren’t you simply proving his point the longer you remain silent? The rehearsed mutterings of reassurance annoyingly caught up within the growing lump in your delicate throat, eyes evasively directed in the other attention so as to slowly steer away from the main point itself. Ah, who’re you even kiddin’? Sure, maybe Robin meant Whitney— the stupidly persistent blonde always sticking to your sides at the crummy school, aimlessly following you around till you frantically snap back. Nosy delinquent who somehow, while being so coldly inconsiderate is also, oddly concerned in the weirdest of moments whenever they roughly tuck an arm ‘round your middle to keep you dry from the oncoming, drizzling rain thanks to their umbrella. Regularly calling you ‘slut’ with the sole exception of it being in a softer lilt and a slight glimmer present in their gaze.

Or is it Kylar, known for being a godawful freak and by god, the rumours are certainly true considering that one, unfortunate time they clumsily tried to lure you in another one of those shady alleyways— mumbling on and on about how they so pathetically needed the feel of your supple skin unbearably close against theirs, or some shit to keep on living. Even said some crazy crap about turning you into an adoring baby daddy, trapping y’a and all that. As if you’d willingly be strung up in their crazy family business, although the fleeting glimpses of a genuine, beaming smile etched upon their lips when proudly showing you their drawing does sometimes, soften whatever insane shit they’ve done previously.

If it’s not that, is it Sydney? Flailing, ol’ church kid who was once religiously devout, but seems to have taken on a new form of religion? Namely, the act of shamelessly worshipping you on their wobbly knees, the same way Robin so similarly is, currently? Golden, smooth locks of hair normally tied up— now elegantly settled upon their shoulders painted in a raven black, nerdy glasses that the gossiping students would’ve notably made fun of them for, neatly replaced by a pair of lenses to match the orange hue within their amber eyes. Pink lips that’d stutter and would cheekily kiss the back of your hand in the same manner when given the opportunity in the confines of the tranquil library.

It’s the maniac that resides in the strange woods often only coming into town to blatantly search for you. Ripped up collar angrily clutched in their hand with a look meant to kill. It’s the rich businessperson, twice your fucking age, old enough to be mistaken as your parent— lazily rolling their tinted windows down to sneakily ask you out for a secretive rendez-vous on Saturday, claim you as their pretty boy toy for the starry night. It’s the cheeky, ol’ farmer gleefully shooting you a striking grin of theirs all the while deliberately patting at your ass during farm work. Gloved palms innocently thrown up into the air in an admission of cluelessness as they carelessly carry on, whistling to themselves like nothing truly happened. It’s the giant bird flying along the clear sky. It’s the feral, black beast venturing amongst the chipped branches. God, it might as well be fucking everyone at this point, no?

So, it’s truly no surprise then if Robin were to ignorantly turn a blind eye to it all in favour of wholly placing their trust into the palms of your delicate hands instead, but is that not futile however? Deny it as he might, frantically shake his head to the dizzying thoughts occupying his echoing mind, it’s come down to the evident fact that you aren’t so loyal as he might’ve initially wished so— or that’s not exactly the correct term for it, is it? Not devotion that you lack, it’s the time and undivided attention you rarely provide him in return for his unrecognized efforts.

Prove his undying loyalty and obligation to dutifully wait for your return everyday like a faithful wife, no? And what better way to do so than on his knees, nicely nestled between the accommodating gap of your spread thighs? Smoothly followed by a fervent kiss shakily placed along the inner surface of your tender skin to then, further descend to where your— ah, shit.. Talk about good timing, huh? Already hard for ‘em, twitching bulge jutted against his freckled cheek and seriously.. why do you have to smell so good at times, specially down there. Borderline weird how he secretly gets off of your dizzyingly sweet scent, eyes instinctively rolling to the back of his skull— goddamn musk is what it is, yet he can’t possibly help himself when it’s you of all people, right? Fluttering lashes, eyes shutting close to solely focus upon the act of pervertedly inhaling you in, snugly burying his nose in the wrinkled material of your pants like an intoxicating drug itself.

“It’s alright, it’s okay..” Uncertain whether it’s meant for your quivering self, so obviously pent up and needy for him already by some mere kisses or himself, actually. Imitating that of a drooling, huffing dog in a heat with how his hips disgustingly roll forward— fucking humping his pulsing, sticky cock against your leg, smudging the already translucent stain of pre-cum present in his underwear. Ah, yet it seriously feels too good that he can’t hope to stop, y’know? Contentedly planting numerous, single kisses atop each of your sticky with sweat fingertips, handling you with such care that it would’ve possibly put Kylar— one who prides themselves for being so lovingly considerate of your needs, minus the.. kidnapping — to absolute wallowing shame.

Bad for him and yeah, he knows it— but what does he care? You’re his protector after all, are you not?

That’s alright, you’re bound to let it slip past your tight sealed lips one way or another. He’s in no hurry in making happening, even if it means spending the rest of his extensive time at your feet and on his knees.

Call it faith, will you?

[hardlyinteresting]

Any Other Way

Tyler Owens x Reader

As voted on by you the people. Relationships aren’t too unlike Tornadoes when you really think about it.

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, passing mentions of childhood injuries and bull riding accidents (nothing detailed or graphic), depictions of storms and tornadoes. (please let me know if you want me to tag anything else).

Word count: 1.3K

Masterlist | Talk to me about Tyler and Jake

The first time he ever saw a tornado touch down it was only a couple miles outside his home town. it's the same town he met her in. A force of nature; upending his life in ways neither of the two of them would have been able to anticipate in that bar all those months ago. 

He thinks now that nature and fate must be much the same, dictated by some higher power he's always believed in but never truly understood. As terrifying as it is mesmerizing, he finds him head over heels for her and it scares the shit out of him. 

Life moves faster when he's just falling into it. He's fallen out of trees as a kid, and been thrown from horses; an adrenaline rush halted only by a sudden and painful meeting with the ground. Love feels somewhat the same. He'd heard the phrase whirlwind romance, but he never expected it to be so life-altering. 

She rides shotgun in his truck and wears his favourite flannels, she changes the radio station while they are driving and he doesn't even flinch. As terrifying as it all is he chooses to look for the beauty in all of it. Tucked safely in his truck harnesses as the world spins around them he's certain he's finally found a safe place to land. 

The sound of the tornado passing right over the top of them echoes in his ears, and his eyes after all these years of chasing are still never quite sure where to focus. At a distance he's practiced at identifying precipitation patterns, analyzing the structures and collapses of storms; he's made a living doing it. But, in the centre of the storm, it's the pounding of his own heart rate that grabs his attention. Riding out a fear isn't the same as ignoring it, so he chooses to let it ground him. He focuses his mind on the science and the still unfathomable pulchritude of the natural world. 

Unrestrained and blithesome, laughter escapes him as the dust settles and they climb out of the truck. Her smile is as big as he's ever seen, it as she jokes along with Boone who clambers out of the backseat camera in hand. With an excited prompt from his friend, and the camera pointed in his direction, Tyler is quick to explain some of the science to their viewers breaking down their tornado experience into layman's terms. It's one of his favourite parts of the job; spreading joy and wonder. 

A few feet away he watches her grinning as she observes first-hand the soft purpling of the sky above in the wake of the storm. These are the good days. 

On the bad days; hours in the truck, and nights spent on bad mattresses havoc on everyone's bodies. A lack of promising storms on the radars leaves them pacing gas station parking lots, and sitting around the motel rooms they swore they didn't want to spend time in except to sleep. 

The air conditioner buzzes, humming an air of uneasiness into the already tense room. The room is silent otherwise and Tyler wishes one of the two of them would say something, but after 12 hours of nothing but waiting there doesn't seem to be much conversation left to have. She sprawls out on the bed, her arm draped over her eyes blocking out the yellow incandescent lamp light. He scrolls on his laptop, wading through radars and projections, searching for a new destination and a new objective, his fingers tapping an untimed beat against the bedside table. It's the calm before the storm. 

He can't pinpoint when the tension began to grow though in hindsight he's sure he should've seen it coming. But next thing he's in a shouting match, his own behaviour thrown at him as a heavy insult, he knows he's saying things he doesn't mean. In the middle of it all his heart races, waiting for the calm once more so he might be able to understand what happened. The door slams behind her when she leaves, and the brown shag carpet is scratchy against the palms of his hands as he lowers himself to sit next to the bed. Defeated he tries to analyze her actions and his own, accessing the potential damage as he goes. 

Who's to blame? who's at fault? He doesn't care as he replays the events of the day in his head. The bigger questions rattle around his skull begging for his attention, where did she go? Should he go after her? The aftermath is always the hardest part of a storm. 

A sudden flash of red illuminating his laptop screen has him on his feet and across the room again in a heartbeat. An unexpected, oncoming storm. His stomach feels lead-lined as he taps her contact on his phone; gutted when he hears the rhythmic vibration on the nightstand. Her phone lit up with his contact photo. 

There's a hopeless in it, the wind howling through the small town, whipping around the tiny motel. He hopes they're not in the direct path of the storm, but he doesn't take the time to check. Texts from Boone and Dani confirm they're sheltering with Lily and Dexter. Tyler texts back: looking for her. 

His breath rattles in his chest, and he ignores the way his hands shake as he calls out her name, hoping beyond hope that she's near by. Surely she noticed the shift in the weather and found somewhere safe. Surely this isn't how he loses her, on the back of a stupid fight. 

He thinks his knees might buckle if he lets himself stand still for too long, a foolish brand of restlessness stirs him into moving. The thought of what he stands to lose pounding in the back of his mind. The air is thick, and the rain that's now falling makes it hard for him to see the ground in front of him. He fights his way forward without a thought of himself, it's not the storm that scares him, but rather what it might take that strikes the chord of fear he's wrestled his whole life. 

He manages to make his way across the parking lot of the eerie quiet town, the echo of a storm siren blaring in the near distance. The window of the motel office has been shattered by some kind of debris and he has to shield himself from the wind even indoors, crouching low as he moves. He calls her name again, he voice cracking in a desperate plea. 

“Tyler?” A tear filled voice calls from behind the counter. 

He finds her curled on the floor under the large front desk, the sweet motel owner Doris holding tightly to her. He slips himself beneath the desk taking note of where it's bolted into the ground, a good distance from the windows; she's a clever girl. “I'm sorry,” she gasps out quickly, her eyes locking onto his own, “me too, darlin’,” he swears, “but we'll have time to talk about it later”. 

The world grows quiet again, pounding rain, and vicious winds slowing before stopping, air pressure releasing its heavy hold. He helps Doris out from under their hiding place, the gray haired older woman patting his hand in thanks as she catches her breath. He helps his girl up next not at all shocked when she throws herself against his chest. The familiar smell of her shampoo, and the feeling of his own flannel shirt on her frame ground him. 

“We're okay, baby,” he promises. 

“I got you these,” she says holding out a now crushed packet of milk duds. “I just wanted to clear my mind and I saw them in the vending machine. I was on my way back to the room--but the storm. I didn't mean to scare you”. 

His smile is wide despite the weight of tears behind his eyes, “honey, you scare the hell out of me and I wouldn't want it any other way”. 

[gothhabiba]

I understand what people mean by prison abolition, but what does it mean in practice to abolish the family? I've never quite got it - who is raising children? How does it work? I'm asking in good faith, I've just always been a bit embarrassed to ask anyone

Like positions that are “anti-work” or against “gender,” the thing being objected to is more detailed and specific than the range of meanings that can reasonably or semi-reasonably be assigned to the word in question (“work,” “gender,” “family”)—which is why these propositions and programmes can have a bit of a PR problem. And, as with all terms that position themselves against something (e.g. "anti-psychiatry"), the term "family abolition" can be taken up by people with a range of different positions who disagree amongst themselves on some issues. In general, though, no one objects to "people living together or being emotionally close to each other" or "children not being left to roam about at random and get eaten by wolves" or anything.

Rather, anti-capitalist objections to "the family" tend to hinge on objections to:

parental rights, or "the special legal powers of parents to control major aspects of their children’s lives," which function as "quasi-property interests" more than anything that is in the best interest of children (link explicitly relates to U.S. law). Parents legally control where their children live, whether and where they go to school, what information they have access to, what level of freedom of mobility they have, what medical care they receive and don't receive, and what they may do with their own bodies, and are legally allowed to physically assault their children.

relatedly, the lack of legal autonomy that children possess (this is also often discussed under the banner of "children's rights" or objections to "adultism").

the positioning of "the family" as the only economic or social "safety net" in an economy and a society which provide no other one (creating an artificial "structural scarcity" of care). In a society which is otherwise dominated by "economic competition between atomized individuals," the family must be relied on—and yet, for some people (whose families cannot or will not provide living space or financial support in an emergency; whose families are abusive and physically or psychically dangerous to be around or rely on; who will not receive help or emotional support from a spouse or family unit without making serious concessions on the level of their personhood being basically respected; Black working-class people in whose communities the nuclear family unit has been deliberately prevented from forming by government intervention), the family cannot be relied on.

the way that the positioning of "the family" as the only safety net therefore constitutes economic coercion that works to keep people (especially women and LGBT, disabled and/or transracially adopted people) in abusive or exploitative situations, and that works to create incentives for working-class women (whose employment is generally less secure) to make themselves erotically desirable to men & disincentives for doing anything else.

the idea that housework, gestational labour & childbirth, and childcare are tasks "naturally" falling to the "mother" ("mother" as a "natural category"), such that the social, political, and economic nature of these tasks, and the economic and political discourses that mobilise the creation of our concept of "motherhood," are obscured.

Thus the objection is to "the family" as a unit of social reproduction under capitalism—as a legal, political entity that structures inheritance, taxes, health insurance, "race" and ethnicity, &c., and therefore works as a sort of interface between the capitalist state and the individual.

So the programme of "family abolition" involves, firstly, the control of the means of production on the part of the proletariat (this is a communist programme—the point isn't to remove the safety net of the family while keeping capitalism in place, but rather the idea is that without capitalism this ultimately abusive safety net ought not to be needed); and then the abolition of marriage as a legal institution; the abolition of parental rights; the putting in place of measures for the elderly and disabled to be cared for regardless of whether they have family alive who are both able and willing to care for them; the forming of social networks at will; and, depending on who you ask, the communal raising of children (which involves ceasing to privilege "parent" as a legal title automatically conferred upon biologically creating a child).

Obviously, toddlers who do not yet understand things about the world including "causation" and "mortality" will need on occasion to be restrained from running blithely into the jaws of wolves &c. The argument is just that coercion of this sort should be legitimately in the best interests of the child; not performed by two people who need answer for their actions, up to and including battery of their children, in no way other than saying that they "plausibly believe this to be necessary to control, train or educate their child"; and walked back in measure as the child gains the ability to assert their own desires.

Probably no one has a perfect solution 100% worked out—life is messy, and we don't know what the future will look like—but having a perfect solution 100% worked out should not be a prerequisite for noticing that the current situation is abusive and untenable.

[avelera]

So this is a bit random but:

Dream as the hero in a Greek tragedy and Hob as an Arthurian knight.

Thoughts?

(You obviously don’t have to answer if this is stupid or you don't want to)

If I may riff a bit on this, since I don't exactly have a pre-made answer (it's not a line of inquiry I've really considered), I'd say this:

Dream is absolutely a Greek tragedy protagonist. He thinks of himself that way, he's written that way. A major, indeed central, characteristic of Greek tragic heroes is that their virtues in some situations become their ultimate downfall. No one is dying in a Greek tragedy because they're inherently bad or failed people. It is the essence of that Picard line, "It's possible to do everything right and still lose. That's not failure, that's life."

Dream's dedication to his duty is an incredibly familiar virtue for a Greek tragic figure. It is also the virtue that will lead to his eventual end (in this incarnation). At least, in the comic. We'll see in the show if that's the case, and I have my suspicions based on the story's structure that we'll be seeing some deviation or, at the very least, a more optimistic spin on Dream's end.

Neil certainly wrote Dream to be a figure from a Greek Tragedy too, ironic considering he's also the "deus ex machina" in other situations, being literally a creature of godlike (or superior) power.

As for Hob as an Arthurian figure.... I'm less convinced. And I have a lot of reasons why because I think a lot about Hob's relationship, or lack thereof, with the tropes of knighthood as explored in both canon and fanon.

Let me quickly say that for fanon, sure, absolutely. I've seen incredible, complex, lovely takes on Hob as a Questing Knight or suffering the throes of textbook courtly love (more on that in a second, because I do find that part at least plausible) or otherwise being a gallant and heroic figure.

However, this is fanon. Canon Hob is certainly made more romantic, and I mean much more romantic by the show with the whole missed 1989 meeting and Ferdie's inherent and overwhelming charm. But comic Hob is... hmm, let's say he also has his charm but he's deliberately quite rough, quite crass, more than a bit dim at times, and the furthest thing from protagonist let alone romantic hero material. I think comic Hob would laugh, perhaps a bit wistfully, at the very idea of being an Arthurian figure. Certainly the Hob of "Sunday Mournings" (the Ren Faire comic issue) would be outright derisive of the notion of himself as a romantic figure or a questing knight.

Hob bought his knighthood. I think it's something that bears remembering: he bought it.

(Let me very briefly aside say, as a grubby Yankee myself, I actually find his audacity and sort of "Ha! I got away with it!" humor in that moment incredibly charming. Fuck yeah, stick it to the nobility! Fuck aristocracy, fuck nobility, and fuck aristocratic mythology like Arthuriana that reinforces those power structures. Good for Hob being a peasant who bought his knighthood, something that would be all but unthinkable in the grand sweep of Arthuriana, which for all its romanticism is still pretty definitive about everyone belonging in their social place.)

Anyway, Hob bought his knighthood with money he made getting into early English shipping and with money made from being on the right side of Henry VIII dissolving the monasteries (which were corrupt but were also one of the only forms of social services available to common people at the time, it's an incredibly complex issue) and Hob is as unbothered by the moral quandaries of this as he was the moral quandaries of being a soldier or a bandit. Hob is the furthest thing from being a Galahad. I'm not sure he could even aspire to Lancelot at his lowest on Hob's very best of days. He's just not built like that that we see.

At least, until 1989.

Now, as I've noted elsewhere, Hob's story is fundamentally altered by this ever so minor change in the show of making him still in England in 2022, still presumably waiting for Dream about a block away from the White Horse! Now, this is some courtly love shit right there! My jaw dropped when I began to map out the implications, not just of his waiting but of his becoming a history teacher.

Comic Hob never became a history teacher. Comic Hob seems all but allergic to romanticism and nostalgia. Comic Hob's highest moment of romanticism is wondering what exists in the depths of the ocean and thinking that maybe reincarnation possibly exists.

1989 changes everything. Actually, we even have evidence that in the comic timeline, Hob wasn't even in England by, what, 1992 when Dream passes away? He's in America with Gwen and they've been dating for a bit when she takes him to the Ren Faire, which is the day after Dream died. This implies that Hob doesn't usually stick around England like he does in the show timeline. If that wasn't already clear from the fact that most of his professions throughout the glimpses we see seem to involve maritime trade (sometimes of the very worst sort). The guy is constantly on the move but he stayed in England for Dream for over 30 years.

So there, at least, I think we have the first tendrils of something for fandom to grip onto that Hob does have the potential within him to go on a 30 year quest for his lost love, which is very Arthurian. I think even Hob would be perhaps shocked at himself for this, perhaps alongside becoming a history professor, finally coming to grips perhaps with the history he's seen, learning to care about it, learning that there's more to himself than he thought.

Because Hob is a weird immortal. He doesn't do the things we expect immortals to do, like learn from his mistakes and become some sort of avenging superhero, or even accumulate enough money to not need to have a day job any more, to just utterly detached from normal human life. Instead, he seems to stay grounded in a normal middle class life for whatever era he's in (barring disaster or windfall) and just happen to stick at it longer than anyone else by virtue of his immortality. It's so bizarre in the most fascinating way, it's why I'm obsessed with him, because he stays so grounded in his time period and not in any sort of special superhero way.

But 1989 really brings into sharp relief that there is an element of courtly love to how he interacts with Dream, the Beatrice to his Dante, this figure who inspires him, whom he waits for, whom he changes for (even when Dream himself perhaps doesn't believe himself capable of change?).

There I think there's something to the notion of Hob as, perhaps, a budding figure of courtly love, if not full Arthuriana knighthood.

But more intriguing and, if I may presume, what I think you're perhaps getting at with all of this is: could Hob's Questing Knight perhaps in some way disrupt Dream's Greek Tragic fate?

Well, it's not really possible in either of those genres played straight but, in the original canon, Hob didn't wait 33 years for Dream to come home to him.

So really, in the most optimistic way I'd say, anything is possible.

[velvetvexations]

The fact that Junior Year didn't at all challenge the way ANY system is set up is insane to me.

In the first half of the season I kept telling people the solution to Adaine's money problems wouldn't be Fabian buying her shit for her, because Brennan - DECOLONIAL PHILOSOPHER THAT HE IS - would never construct a scenario in which the solution to a ruinous lack of funds would be to get your rich friend to pay it off for you. This was just the foundation of my argument that Fabian literally, in-universe, did not have access to enough money to do that, because BLeeM usually plugs those holes and that seemed to be essentially the point of kicking Hilarial and Gilear off-screen for most of the season, but put that aside. The point is, it was clearly a critique of the system.

Right?

Because I assumed the solution would in some way be either changing the system or breaking free of it. Part of Adaine's problem is capitalism in general, but most immediately it's the financial demands the school system makes of her.

And then...the solution is not that. The solution is that she yells at her bosses to start paying her for being the Oracle, and Fabian beats someone in a dance contest so they do it. Problem solved. It's fine that Aguefort, which prides itself to an insane degree about what an anarchic madhouse it is for all the real freaks who want to just reach out and take life by the horns, requires you buy literal barrels of diamonds to be a wizard. That's fine.

The problem was that Adaine didn't have a fortune, not that she needed a fortune in the first place.

And it's wild because exactly that's something I liked about A Starstruck Odyssey. Obviously, Starstruck is an existing IP, and there wasn't a lot of room to just revolutionize galactic society overnight, but thematically it only enhanced the season's thrust to have everyone's problems be tied to money and for them to get past them by inventively striking a fortune. It was essentially taking this mildly grimdark capitalist hellhole and being like "okay, we'll play by your rules, assholes" and by the end it felt like there was a heavy tone of irony to the celebration of The Ball Rolling Up. Like you were meant to notice and be aware that the crew of the Wurst basking in their newfound riches was good for them personally but also a fucked-up reflection on how the setting operates.

And there was little tiny baby steps towards acknowledgement of systemic issues in JY that seemed promising, but all ultimately fizzled out.

Fig being overwhelmed by her responsibilities as a working musician and owner of a part of Hell? She orders her demonic underlings and indentured souls to help her put on a hella sweet concert and she goes quintuple platinum and her old agent is totally seething.

Gorgug is being failed by an educational structure that won't allow and doesn't even want him to succeed in the way he aspires to? Zac rolls insanely well so no he isn't, he's doing great, everyone should take four times the coursework.

Riz has to do a ton of shit to get into college because as a poor person he has to run to where others walk? Jokes are occasionally made about him being in a lot of clubs but that's never once examined or otherwise touched on between the the third and final episode, with the resolution in the epilogue being his mom going "hey kiddo wherever you end up you'll do great, just as long as you get enough sleep and take regular breaks to eat ice cream!".

Fabian trying to live up to the pressure of his legacy and maintaining his social status at school? Bill has a genuinely moving conversation with Fabian in the finale, indisputably one of the highlights of the season and a moment that in spite of everything I found incredibly powerful, where he tells him that he would love him even if he weren't a Maximum Legend, but it ends on "maybe we can have both" because as Brennan himself noted Lou was rolling so well that it was actively strangling the theme of his arc so that it ended up just being Fabian occasionally feeling a bit frustrated about the pressure while effortlessly succeeding to the point that not even Fig's catastrophic bardic put a dent in his popularity, but not enough for it to be a full case of tragic imposter syndrome.

Kristen failing cleric class? Kristen deserved to fail cleric class.

The issues with Fabian and Gorgug's arc was just luck and a flaw in the downtime mechanic. The others went deeper and man I really wish more had been done there.

[where-dreams-dwell]

There are so many missed opportunities in Part 1 of Bridgerton Season 3 its frustrating to behold.

As one half of the season is out it’s possible that some of these will be fixed in the second half however having to wait until then (not just in terms of release date but also narratively) is not good planning. Having to wait for Part 2 to have most of the interesting things happen with our supposed 'main characters' makes the structure of the season feel unbalanced, and annoys the audience trying to root for the main couple. And a lack of attention to our romantic leads leaves the audience feeling uninvested and unconvinced in their love.

Spoilers below.

....................................................................

1. No flashbacks: by the end of Episode 4 in S1 we knew all of Simons backstory, why he didn’t want children or marriage, and his key character motivations. This helped us understand why Antony was so against the match (he knew of Simon’s vow), why Simon duelling him instead of agreeing to marry Daphne was actually a sign of love, and helped the audience understand his struggle to accept love. Similarly by Ep 4 of S2 we have had Anthony’s tragic past with his father revealed, explaining his fear of love impacting on those around him and explaining why he is fighting the clear feelings he has for Kate. For both of these romantic leads we (the audience) now know why they are refusing their clear and obvious feelings for the heroine, what internal struggles they are going to need to overcome this season, and by proxy have been reassured that they must truly love the heroine otherwise they wouldn’t be tormented.

This explanation and fleshing out of key character-beats reveals the internal motivations which are governing these characters; this knowledge is essential for future scenes where their actions will appear dismissive or unloving and the audience needs to know that they are operating under their own internal world view in which those actions make perfect sense.

Simon rejecting Daphne's hand? He’s not being cruel, he doesn’t want to deprive her of children as he has foresworn having them. Anthony rejecting his feelings for Kate and continuing to pursue her sister? He’s not unfeeling, he’s actually feeling too much and trying to run from it. This knowledge helps us forgive actions that could make us doubt their ‘true feelings’ and is essential to the audience rooting for the couple. When the romantic lead is being an ass it helps for us to know what may be making them act that way.

No Colin flashbacks means we have no idea what motivates him, what his internal journey for this season is, or any reassurance that his love to Penelope is true. What might have been motivating Colin to act like an ass, not just to Penelope but to other people, and what m ight be be grappling with now which is impacting him either realizing his feelings or coming to terms with them? We have no idea, so his journey to love is a little less compelling.

2. Colin didn’t get humbled: through season 1 + 2 we’ve seen Penelope pine after Colin while he bumbles happily along seeing her as a cherished friend but ignoring her for other romantic options. We finished season 2 with a Colin deeply hurting Penelope and implying to the audience that he actually doesn’t respect her even as a friend - what friend would imply their fiend is unattractive or unmarriable to others, especially in that time and society?

As the audience has been following this one sided romance from Penelope’s perspective we’re predisposed to be on ‘her side’, hence wanting Colon to be humbled and have to properly apologise. We want to see Colin chasing Penelope (in a role reversal from the previous two seasons) and be made to eat his own worlds.

Instead we get one scene of Penelope revealing her hurt over Colin’s actions, and then their next scene together Colin is all but forgiven. He apologises but immediately move the conversation on, asking to atone for his actions by offering help and then bam! For all intents and purposes it’s business as usual between the two again. Penelope is happy to chat and banter with him, smile at him lovingly, and agree to a secret (and scandalous) partnership.

Whats even more concerning is that they’ve set up Colin to property hate Lady Whistledown so when Penelope reveals herself she may even have to humble herself before Colin for his forgiveness. Having started the season (with two years to dwell on Colin’s actions) wanting Colin to have to beg Penelope for forgiveness, it feels disappointing that not only do we not get that but we may get significantly more scenes of her begging for his.

3. Penelope and Colin together: this may be more personal preference but I’m not feeling the same for this couple as I did for Daphne+Simon or Kate+Anthony, or even Charlotte+George. Some of it is line delivery (Anthony felt like Brooding Fuckboy, or Fuckboy who’s fighting their inner demons, whereas Colin just feels sleezy), some of it is script (Colin hasn’t been given nearly as much dialogue and little of it is noteworthy), and some is just preference in that this lead doesn’t feel mysterious or challenging or interesting. He’s really just there.

Simon and Daphne, Kate and Anthony, Charlotte and George they all had this tension when they were on screen together that you could feel through the screen. Maybe it’s the lack of anger or hatred or antagonism between the two of them and due to them being a friends to lovers storyline but the tension just doesn’t feel like it’s there.

4. Time with the main couple: It doesn't feel like the 'main couple' this season has had as much time or scenes to help us understand why they are meant to be together.

This is an ensemble show and as season continue and characters develop or are added this will become a bigger issue; there are more named characters and players than S1 to juggle, plus some characters need time this season to set themselves up for future plot lines.

But Season 1 felt like Daphne and Simons season. Season two felt like Kate and Anthony's season. This doesn't feel like Colin and Penelope's season. Its more like this is a drama-filled season, and one aspect of it is Colin and Penelope.

5. Colin's Character: This is actually a much bigger problem so lets break it down further

5.1 Why Colin? In a friends to lovers plot (a childhood friends to lovers plot too) we really need to see why our heroine is fixated on this man; why is he better than all her other options, why did she originally fall and then remain in love with them for all these years, and why should we want him to realise his own feelings? Crucially what is so special about him?

As Colin hasn't yet been fleshed out, really at all, we don't know why he is this great love for Penelope and why we should root for him to fall in love with her in turn. So Penelope's pining for him comes across as less understandable and more 'I don't get what you see in him but okay'. And that's bad, especially for a show which wants you to go feral over their central couple; fewer members of the audience falling in love with the lead means fewer people understanding Penelope maintaining this crush (especially when its detrimental to her future) which means fewer people rooting for the main couple.

5.2 Colin’s character dissonance: this is kind of a show don’t tell issue but we keep being told all these things about Colin’s character, instead of seeing examples of this behavior ourselves, and on top of that what we are told doesn’t match with what we are shown.

Violet tells Colin he’s ’always putting others first’ but we have never seen this in 2 1/2 seasons of this show. Colin has left to travel in every off season, a very self centred action focused solely on what he wants to do and not what others may want. We’ve seen Benedict put people first more than Colin (being the shoulder for Eloise, helping her out in ballrooms, being Anthony’s second for his duel and his sounding board with Sharma issues) so that character assessment feels untrue.

Violet also calls Colin her ‘most sensitive child’ but we have not one scene of Colin showing this sensitive side. There’s no scene of him comforting Daphne about her failed season or Anthony about his problem with the Sharmas; no moment showing him helping out anyone outlet out of the kindness of his heart, or reacting to another’s pain or worry or problems so again this feels like Violet is describing a totally different character.

Penelope says Colin’s eyes are more beautiful ‘when you’re being kind’ but we haven’t seen Colin be overly kind to anyone. He told Marina in S1 he would have still married her if she had told him of her pregnancy, but this is stated when he’s angry so he’s probably not feeling or looking very kind right then, and it isn’t him actually doing this action, it’s just him claiming what he would have done. When he’s goes to visit Marina in S2 his actions come off more desperate and clingy than anything close to kind. If you argue that his tutoring if Penelope is kind, it’s actually self serving as he offered to do this to atone for him being decidedly not kind at the end of last season. He’s helping her out but he offered this to make up for hurting her before so I don’t think you can view this as a selfless act.

When he reveals Jacks scheme in S2 and demands he pay back money while preserving the Featherington Ladies good name he is undoubtably doing a good act but ‘kind’ isn’t the way he’s portrayed: he’s shown as decisive, protective, angry, courageous, bold, etc.. all very good things but still not that ‘kind’ Penelope talks about.

The last time Colin did something entirely kind may have been Season 1 asking Penelope to dance after Cressida ruined her dress. If that's it, that's very little to go on and a very long time ago.

It feels like people are trying to tell us that Colin is a good guy, without showing us moments where he actually is good. It comes off as clunky and doesn’t match the character we have seen, so these claims have little impact on our assessment of him as a person and as a lead.

5.3 Colins Writing; Stop trying to make Colin's Great Writing happen. Its not going to happen.

At least not when the only snippet you give us is basically porn.

I haven't read the books but I've heard that Colins writing snippet that Penelope finds, while starting as porn, eventually turns into a rumination on how unfulfilled and alone these actions make Colin feel and how he feels lost. That would have been an amazing moment to have in the show, giving us honesty and a secret from the romantic lead and adding depth to Colins actions (which are a little jarring to watch while we actively want him to be falling for Penelope).

If Colin is this great writer then have him writing more. In the back of conversations at breakfast, have him reading his travel journals or scribbling in a notebook. In the hot air balloon scene have Colin seek out an adventure novelist to talk about his experiences. Maybe he gets a letter from Sir Phillip asking about his travels since they enjoyed speaking so much last season, and Colin sends long and detailed responses people joke are like novels (also great for future seasons).

Right now it feels like window dressing and a throw away comment that he's 'an incredibly talented writer' and doesn't match what we've seen of him.

(Side note: it is objectively hilarious that Penelope reads one page of smut about a naked woman the author is sleeping with, then later describes this page of writing as 'incredible' while claiming she 'would love to read more'. You sure you're 100% interested in Colin there Penelope...?)

5.4 How is Colin a Tragic Hero?: This figure always works best for romatic stories and all other Bridgerton Seasons have followed the formula. Simon had a negligent and abusive father and no good examples of marriage or family, Anthony had traumatically had his beloved father die in front of him and been parentified at a young age, and George had the weight of the crown destroying his mental health. All of these leads had a demon they were wrestling with and it gave them intrigue and interest.

Colin has no demons; at least none we've been made aware of.

There's a vague allusion (from Eloise, Lady Whistedown and Violet) that Colin is in some way 'putting on a front' this season. What would have been amazing for the audience would have been a scene or two showing Colin struggling to fit in (in his family, in the Ton, etc) and him feeling alone or isolated because of it. Maybe traveling was his attempt to have interesting stories to tell, or something to distinguish himself with but upon his return (Season 2) no one had an interest in listening and groaned when he tried to share his stories, and so he turned to writing them down instead and decided to shut himself off from trying to relate to everyone as 'himself' and instead to become 'The Traveler' character and pretend so he can fit in.

This would not only give Colin a Secret or a Demon that he needed to work through, but offer us (the audience) a way in which he would be able to understand and support Penelope; another person feeling isolated and unheard who turned to writing to express themself.

While there are the bones of a great love story here the little work put in to flesh out Colin as an individual, giving us no idea of what experiences made him and what he is currently grappling with, means the audience doesn't have much to go on when Penelope professes to love him. Who is this man, as descriptions of him don't match his actions and those actions he does have are both seemingly self serving (travel) and not fully fleshed out (writing); and both annoyingly happen largely off screen. And as the current structure pits Penelope as likely the one needing to beg forgiveness by the end of the season, while we entered it expecting Colin to begging for her forgiveness, their current relationship doesn't feel as salifying or as earned as we could have hoped.

Here's to Part 2 doing some very heavy lifting.

[thatphantomtroupelady]

Random HCs for some Phantom Troupe members~ (Part 2)

Part 1

Nobunaga would be an absolute foodie. Would consider himself the harshest food critic ever but would actually love most of the food he'd try (the lack of pickiness is partly due to his rough childhood but it's his nature in general as well).

He'd occasionally comment on Uvo's lack of pickiness and then they'd just (playfully) argue over it for an annoying amount of some time. (They just need an excuse y'all)

Feitan would be a bug enthusiast (ofc that'd include spiders too). You may find him staring at a bug crawling up his sleeve with zero expression on his face because he's just that lost. You'd probably find it dissected with its guts out in a bit but... okay yea there's no but.

He's mostly fascinated by how they can function with such a tiny body but he'd also love how they can scare so many people with their mere existence.

Would definitely *cough cough* torture people with them too, especially the ones with the spider/bug phobias.

He could name like every single bug in existence and might even get in arguments with Shalnark over the right name.

Because Shalnark would love playing the 'know it all'; even though he mostly knows he's not. Sometimes he'd make up facts just to mess with people's nerves. He'd so be the type to screw up the Wikipedia page to prove a point.

The annoying brat of the troupe but he's proud of it so there's nothing you could really do about it.

Bonolenov would be good with kids. Not saying he won't kill them when ordered by the boss, but he'd be pretty nice to them otherwise.

Occasionally he'd find a kid who wouldn't find him so scary but would just go wowowowow and start asking soo many questions. But the kid would be so respectfully sweet that Bono wouldn't feel the slightest offence.

Like we know how he grew up in a tribe so he did have a probably healthy environment with children due to the most likely familial structure of their society.

Chrollo would definitely have an emo poetry writing phase as a teen. Like look at him. How could he not.

He'd be super duper shy about others reading his poetry. Probably killed a bunch of people who tried to read it/make fun of him for it. But he'd occasionally open up a bit and let Pakunoda read some of it he'd deem decent.

[horizon-verizon]

Note after writing: so I poke my head up into Tumblr now that I've finished my cross-country move and can soon again indulge in essays and all the replies/drafts I've been putting off. I innocently engage in some passive scrolling until your Dany-Westeros comment tempts me into a quick ask comment, and THIS comes out? On my phone where I hate to edit/cut asks for later? Oops. Let this be an example of how for some reason you're very good at steering my rant interests. (And to think I started this one because I thought I didn't have time for the twilight one. We'll get there ;)

Thank-you for pointing out that Westeros needs Dany far more than she needs Westeros. I'm so tired of people acting like Westeros is the centre of that world when not even Dany sees it that way. Honestly, I don't think she's compatible with Westeros because I don't even really think the Targaryens (or general human health and happiness) were. We're hit over and over again with how Westeros will continually ostracize and blame the Other for their own problems (Rego Draz, Larra Rogare, Lady Serala who loves to prove that team smallfolk don't actually pay attention to the riverlands chapters or twoiaf over the wiki otherwise they'd question how F&B presents Mysaria and Rhaenyra. Actually all examples make a point about how F&B and team small folk treat Rhaenyra, that's why she's my current obsession). We're hit with all the other ways in how (ironically) "backwards" and xenophobic Westeros is. Not just in a "period accurate" way, but also in a way that seems excessive compared to the realms that surround them. Omens aside, I don't think that the Valyrians and pre-Conquest Targs having little interest aside from possibly wanting a certain kind of imperial influence via trade is supposed to mean nothing. (And i find it interesting how those "Westeros is the beacon of civilization and enlightment - no don't ask me how the Enlightment happened" stans are so quick to claim that the very slow-moving Freehold would have uber-colonized Westeros if not for their superstitions or possible knowledge and wariness of the weird magic of Westeros like the Others, BUT of course Aegon was definitely not motivated to conquer Westeros for that reason and definitely didnt believe that deeply in the forces that apparently were the one thing that kept the uber-dragon-reich from immediately invading...) because the Targaryen's biggest failure is their lack of connection to historic Valyria unless we're talking about how singularly evil they are in which case they are a direct continuation of all the bad parts and only the bad parts of the institution they only SEEMED alienated from. Also this is a trait that skips over certain good men to bad women and has concentrated in Dany because 1. These traits actually get stronger over time as they're passed like how pesticides build up more in owls than in their prey and 2. because men DO culture but women EMBODY culture and bad woman embody the bad parts.

Right. Westeros's relative irrelevance outside of the Long Night. GRRM himself has pointed out how the Freehold resembled the EARLY Roman Republic and their contract system. Valyrians tended to conquer preexisting power structures, leave it relatively intact, and extract tribute, rather than (with exceptions of course) going full Andal (Or Rome to Celtic Europe) settler-colonial assimilation mode. Because I won't stop pointing out that the Valyria/Essos parallels to Rome are limited to the early days and then solely to the "Oriental" half and subsequent conquests by other empires like the Ottomans - especially the Ottomans you can't change my mind - and that any parallel to later Occidental Rome and the Western Roman settler-colonialism-to-slave-plantation-to-feudalism pipeline belongs to Westeros. Especially since the one "off" part of this division, Valyrian fuctioning like Latin across Essos, can be explained by GRRM outright admitting that linguistics is a weak spot of his and he didn't give it much thought.

That the Conquerors took Westeros with three dragons while the Freehold showed no interest for millennia should say something about Westeros's relevance and desirability. That the snooty blood-purist Valyrians (whose far flung survivors' ideologies around their blood and current attitudes towards it were definitely not altered by the destruction of their mother civilization and decimation of population, nor was there any possible practical or pragmatic aspect relating to magic because all civilizations are like whi- Andals but in ways that are recognizably worse than whi- Andals who embody those traits in healthy and/or invisible forms) apparently were willing enough to form bonds with other powerful realms/empires without the (overwhelming) desire to conquer (eg a dragonrider wedding an emperor of YiTi, the fact that Sarnor was right there yet never taken, and fell so soon to Dothraki after Valyria suggesting they were entwined enough that the Doom destabilized them) yet did not do so with Westeros... should also mean something.

What would the Ottomans, or any of the powers around them, want with a giant England that's also way over there? With North-west Europe in general? One that exists in a nasty middle where the diverse cultures and knowledge have already been colonized and replaced with a single knowledge/culture system that makes the Latinized sliver of Roman utilitarianism look downright sophisticated, BUT it also doesn't come along with all that wealth stolen from other lands? Especially without an equivalent to Islam/Christianity to add an ideological, competitive motivation?

Not much.

Problem is... as much as i would love if it could be framed in a way that makes Westeros's relative irrelevance clear, I also don't like the message it sends that you should just let xenophobes be xenophobes, that Dany should come in, fix all of Westeros's problems and then leave (or worse, die) because she nor her family ever really belonged there and yet all those generations of women suffered through all misogyny just so Dany can save the root of that misogyny while also probably being subjected to it. But I also don't like a lot of the alternatives. She can't rule Westeros without dramatically restructuring it and getting called a "tyrant," because I'll maintain that while it's both problematic and bad writing to thematically link Dany+House Targaryen to Valyria as a whole TOO MUCH, I do think the one "parallel" that the Targs and Valyria share, that Dany BREAKS on the third round, is that joining, maintaining and assimilating into preexisting exploitative systems according to THEIR rules, even if war and violence ARE the rules but only if used in a way that follows the rules, isn't just a bad idea when magic is the source of your power, but it's also not a more "ethical" choice than using your magic advantage to break said system. A stance I'm sure the "anti-colonial" irl maesters would LOVE.

But... I've always been convinced that much like Rhaenyra, Dany's story is very much a sociological story, even compared to the other characters around her. She's very much a product of the world around her and the state of that world, and more importantly, the way the world responds to her and her actions is a statement about the world around her.

I'll die on the hill that, because we never get her pov, because GRRM hammers it in that anything relating to her is the most ambiguous part of F&B, Rhaenyra simply cannot be judged for the choices she makes (and all the ones she possibly makes) as an individual. Because aside from kind of forming a dual warning with Nettles for Dany (that raw power from dragons alone leaves her a target and incredibly vulnerable, which Dany learns herself pretty quickly, but that working with a system that won't work with her will never work, that it will ultimately rob you of even the raw power you bring in to it, which she takes a bit longer to learn) Rhaenyra's not meant to function as an individual who is tested. Because she IS the test. A test (most) the men of House Targaryen fail as they chose "The Realm". Because the Realm fails, Gyldayn fails, Stannis (Mr. "The Law" & "Right makes Right") fails... HotD and a good portion of the internet fail...

Which is why however Dany's Westeros arc is resolved is going to be more of a statement on Westeros and the charcters established there (and on GRRM, because I'll also maintain that the themes around Rhaenyra and Dany, that link Rhaenyra and Dany, make them the most "meta") than it is on her. In fact, even GoT fell into this by accident, in that anything even tangential to Dany in those last seasons is incredibly revealing - of the ugly underbelly of the Westeros they had adapted, of the writers, of the "ideal audience" they were appealing to, and the actual audience that still managed to swallow it and was only uncomfortable with how the clumsy writing made it... that much more revealing - of THEM.

I think I started with a conclusion and question about Dany inevitably losing certain forms of agency while becoming a bit of a mirror, on multiple levels, the moment she sets foot in Westeros and meets other pov characters from the "normal" culture, and how I do wonder if/how GRRM struggles with that... and the urge i worry he has and hopefully fights to pull an hbo by (hbo)Targaryen Woman-ing her and essentially withdrawing from her pov or from directing reader empathy and identification towards her, the outsider, and away from the "normies." I like to hope he's a better writer than that. But he's also a white liberal. But... good writing, especially set in a world that the author doesn't live in, often is more "progressive" than the author themselves. For reasons I'm cutting off here before an essay emerges.

Oh wow I really did that to you 😂, you brave warrior of ask culture.

Rhaenin, there is a special hell just for you, just you wait. (THIS is the ask rhaenin-time talks abt when they say "your Dany-Westeros comment" and "Thank-you for pointing out that Westeros needs Dany far more than she needs Westeros").

I think that there would be some confusion over why one wouldn't look at the Targs landing in Westeros through Daenys as them not trying to establish an outpost for future conquest from other Valyrians. But Daenys' father had no intention of settling on Dragonstone before the vision of the Doom and thr other dragonslords sincerely thought he was running away scared, showing us that they may not have been really "interested" in colonizing Westeros. A bit weird to think about Westeros' "desireability" for conquest.

As for GRRM, I can only say we just will have to hope for how he's going to have Dany after the destruction of the Others. As for her meeting others before then, I imagine it will be a very mixed reception and she'd grow a sense of resentment due to how they'd treat her, but nothing "mad" wise like some people say.

But... I've always been convinced that much like Rhaenyra, Dany's story is very much a sociological story, even compared to the other characters around her. She's very much a product of the world around her and the state of that world, and more importantly, the way the world responds to her and her actions is a statement about the world around her. I'll die on the hill that, because we never get her pov, because GRRM hammers it in that anything relating to her is the most ambiguous part of F&B, Rhaenyra simply cannot be judged for the choices she makes (and all the ones she possibly makes) as an individual. Because aside from kind of forming a dual warning with Nettles for Dany (that raw power from dragons alone leaves her a target and incredibly vulnerable, which Dany learns herself pretty quickly, but that working with a system that won't work with her will never work, that it will ultimately rob you of even the raw power you bring in to it, which she takes a bit longer to learn) Rhaenyra's not meant to function as an individual who is tested. Because she IS the test. A test (most) the men of House Targaryen fail as they chose "The Realm". Because the Realm fails, Gyldayn fails, Stannis (Mr. "The Law" & "Right makes Right") fails... HotD and a good portion of the internet fail... Which is why however Dany's Westeros arc is resolved is going to be more of a statement on Westeros and the charcters established there (and on GRRM, because I'll also maintain that the themes around Rhaenyra and Dany, that link Rhaenyra and Dany, make them the most "meta") than it is on her. In fact, even GoT fell into this by accident, in that anything even tangential to Dany in those last seasons is incredibly revealing - of the ugly underbelly of the Westeros they had adapted, of the writers, of the "ideal audience" they were appealing to, and the actual audience that still managed to swallow it and was only uncomfortable with how the clumsy writing made it... that much more revealing - of THEM.

So I pretty much agree here, but perhaps you could also explain more about Rhaenyra's ambiguity. I get more of the sense that she is a test, but not so much here aside from her not being given as much independent words like Otto/Daemon. And i understand that her "silence" is meant to make others (in world and reading) form their own conclusions based on how they percieve what she is, should be, etc. as well as those biases that come forth when they do so.

[gumnut-logic]

Along the way (Part 5)

Sweetapple | Dear Mr Tracy | Along the way - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

I wrote over 4000 words today! It's a miracle! This fic has now officially reached the 10,000 word mark :D

Here is the first half, because, yes, I wrote two parts. Next bit tomorrow otherwise it will get confusing.

Many thanks to the amazing @onereyofstarlight for discussing this fic extensively and even for breaking down the concerns in a possible fourth Sweetapple fic :D

And also to those wonderful supporters who despite having to wait over a year for the bits of this fic have still been so kind and lovely to both me and Alex. Look, you have the boi blushing bright red under that pale blond hair of his.

There are a few warnings on this one. Nothing really dire happens, but it comes close in places. So warnings for darkness and being stuck underwater. This is the worst of it, I promise.

I hope you enjoy it anyway.

-o-o-o-

Alex coughed, the dust in the air thick and clogging his throat. The motion reminded him that yes, he had a head injury and no, he shouldn’t be shaking his brain around like that.

The building had settled for the moment and once again there were people calling out for help.

Water was loud in the distance and to his horror, his brain reminded him that the museum was on the banks of the Taruheru River.

Gisborne sat on the merging forks of the Turanganui, of which the Taruheru was one.

The disconnected facts flooded his hurting head, all leading to the terrifying conclusion that the only hill the building could be sliding down was the bank into the river.

Running water mocked him.

Focus.

Analyse.

Act.

Elizabeth was crying again.

The structure still lacked light, which considering he and his mother had chosen this place for lunch…apparently…meant they were under a considerable pile of messed up building.

There was that faint source of light…

Faint was the keyword, but the shadows were lighter to his right.

“Elizabeth?” She was sobbing into his shoulder. “Elizabeth, we can’t stay here.”

The shadow that was her head lifted. “Okay?” It was a whimper.

“We need to find a way to get out.” His feet were hooked into the splintered floor and he was able to twist himself around into more of a climbing stance. It was definitely wood beneath his hands. “The light seems brighter over that way. There might be an opening somewhere up there.” He climbed over her and secured a new footing. “I want you to come with me.”

Honestly, he would be faster by himself, but the thought of leaving Elizabeth behind and then the building moving again…

He found her hand in the dark and squeezed tight. “We’re getting out of here.”

He heard her swallow and the shadow that was her head shifted as if to nod. “Okay.”

“Okay, good.” He brought her hand to the small of his back and transferred her grip to his belt. “Hang on tight.”

She did, immediately, and for a second there, he thought he was going to lose his pants.

For some random reason, Virgil’s face came to mind and he was smirking.

Maybe that was why International Rescue wore jumpsuits?

The smirk turned into a grin.

Hey, you have all the experience. I’m new to this!

Virgil frowned.

Alex pushed the image away, his heart thumping in his chest.

Focus.

The floor was sloped, but it was an uneven angle. In places, the wood had snapped and was spraying out in a fountain of splinters. He hooked his fingers on more than one and wished for those gloves Virgil often shed in Alex’s lab.

His engineering brain was apparently still alive, throwing up ideas for extra protection on those gloves, what was needed to prevent penetration by a multitude of sharp objects. He mentally jotted notes to revisit once they got out of here.

And there was progress on that project as, yes, the light was getting lighter. As they clambered closer, Alex encountered a tough material…canvas?…an awning or maybe one of those cafe umbrellas? In any case, moving it allowed so much more light in. It was like the heavens had opened up, and shone down upon them.

Neither of them said anything as Alex helped Elizabeth to climb out of the remains of the building.

Relief flooded Alex’s heart as the cloudy day pierced his eyeballs and stabbed at his brain.

Until he saw the state of everything around him.

Oh, hell.

It was so obviously an earthquake, his heart broke into pieces.

Elizabeth was leaning on him, her injured leg off the ground. He gestured her over to the what had likely been the steps into the building.

Only to catch sight of what remained of the museum itself.

Calculations and suppositions flooded his brain as he realised the huge pōhutukawa tree. between the Museum’s buildings had toppled over, destabilising the strength of the two structures, undermining one and falling on the other…which contained the cafe and was so obviously on a trajectory towards the swollen river, Alex’s heart nearly broke his ribcage.

“Elizabeth, stay here. See if you can get the attention of emergency services. I’ll try to get the others out.”

“Alex-“ Her eyes were wide.

“If you see a Thunderbird, let them know we need help.” As did everyone in Gisborne. He had no doubt that the Tracys would be here, somewhere. His eyes skipped across the buildings he could see, but he was too close to the river, too low in the landscape to see anything.

Turning towards the hole in the pile of pickup sticks, he crawled back inside.

-o-o-o-

Virgil’s shoulders were aching. They always ached this far into a rescue that required so much exosuit. Padding could only negate so much and accumulated bruising was a thing.

They had been bouncing about the city under the direction of local and GDF services, landing where their technology could do the most.

Many lives had been saved.

Many not.

Perhaps it was a sign of Virgil’s state of mind that he was lingering on the ‘not’ instead of the many successes.

It took mental techniques to juggle the emotions on a long rescue like this. Methods to enable him to focus, stay positive and effective and not be overwhelmed by reality.

It took a toll. It always did and Virgil wouldn’t have it any other way as it showed him why they did this, why he and his brothers sacrificed so much.

But today?

Each time they lifted off, his eyes tracked across the city to the Gisborne Market building John had pinpointed as Alex’s last known location.

John had sent him the tactical profile of that set of older buildings. At least half of one had collapsed, providing all the anxiety-inducing imagery possible.

But he couldn’t afford to be anxious. Nor could he afford to be distracted, worried or any of the other emotions that threatened to overwhelm him because lives were at stake.

All the time.

Rescuees and his brothers.

Scott had darted in a few minutes early than his estimate. A couple of quick words on the safety of TI Mahia and then it was all business.

Though Virgil did note that his big brother had decided Thunderbirds One and Two would work in tandem on this rescue.

So much could be read into that.

But he didn’t have time to ruminate on that either.

Another glance in the direction of Alex and he returned to lifting several tonnes of concrete off a school gymnasium.

-o-o-o-

Alex managed to drag several other people out of the collapsed building before finally locating his mother.

He had been helping another to the exit when he encountered a fallen door.

A cubicle door.

The toilets.

His mum had excused herself while they waited for lunch.

Alex bit his lip and helped the man who, the light revealed, was sporting a cut to his forehead and bleeding quite profusely. He handed him over to Elizabeth and the others who were providing what first aid they could. She again begged him not to go back in, to sit down, to look after himself.

But his mum was in there, somewhere.

And besides, what would a Tracy do? What would a Thunderbird do?

What would Virgil do?

He once again scanned the landscape. The sound of emergency helicopters and hovercraft were everywhere. Smoke drifted up into the sky.

Small groups of people huddled in the street, some calling out for help, some crying, some doing exactly what he was doing.

Going back in.

Stop thinking, just do.

So he did.

The mess inside the collapse was becoming familiar. He negotiated the major obstacles, letting himself slip down to the bottom as quickly as possible, this time aiming for the back of the café.

Past the kitchen…which was empty - he had already helped two people out of that black hole. Fortunately, there was no smell of burning or anything that could lead to a fire…that he could tell.

He didn’t need the smoke outside to remind him that fire was a major threat after an earthquake. Thank goodness, all the gas mains had been retired in the 2040s otherwise his story might have been vastly different.

As had so many in the past.

His head was still hurting and his thoughts kept drifting. He had to force himself to focus so many times. Holographic Scott was frowning at him.

He wasn’t supposed to be in the building.

Hell, he wasn’t even supposed to be mobile.

What would a Tracy do?

What the hell could he do when his mother…

The toilets were at the back of the building and obviously closer to the river. By what he could see, practically in the river.

“Mum?!” His voice bounced off broken brickwork and splintered timber. “Mum?!”

Water churned.

Virgil would have a torch, at least.

The doors to the toilets, or the remains of them, were no longer vertical and gravity had him sliding into them with a thump.

Damnit. “Mum?! Are you in there?” Please, Mum.

Thoughts of his long-lost father scrambled his brain.

“Mum?!” He fell through the doors into total darkness. “Mum?!”

Water sloshed in the darkness.

A sound.

Barely heard.

“Mum?!” His throat hurt.

“Allie?”

His name came from his right, but further into the space. Damnit, he couldn’t see a thing. “Mum?”

“Allie, my foot’s stuck.”

Alex took a step forward.

And fell into the river.

The shock of the cold water stole his breath.

God.

He panicked for a moment, the total darkness so disorienting, he was lost.

Until a flailing foot hit something hard. The pain startled him enough to stop the rising hysteria and…

His head broke the surface, his lungs gasping in a breath as his body righted itself with enough reference to at least orientate up and down.

“Mum?” It was more breath than anything else.

A hand hit his shoulder, grabbed a grip and he was suddenly in his mother’s arms. “Allie, oh, thank god.”

He scooted around in the water, desperate to see his Mum. Of course, it was far too dark for that. Apparently, there was a sink next to them. He found that by bashing his elbow. But Mum was there. His hands found her shoulders, her damp hair, her wet cheek. “Mum, there’s been an earthquake.”

“I know that, love.” Her fingers were brushing away his hair, her palm wrapping around his face. “My foot is stuck.”

“Your foot?”

“Yes, I can’t get it loose.” She moved under his hands obviously pulling to one side.

He blinked water out of his eyes. “Let me look.” As if he could see anything.

He took a breath and feeling his way down his mother’s body he found her ankle caught between what felt like a wall and something equally cold and hard.

He gave the object a shove.

It didn’t move at all.

It didn’t take long for his lungs to demand attention, his head throbbing to the beat of his increasingly frantic heart.

A hand grabbed at his shirt and yanked him upwards.

His gasp as he surfaced abraded his already tight throat.

“Something’s pinning you to the wall.” Another gulped-in-breath. “It’s not budging.”

His mother didn’t answer, her grip on him just tightening for a moment.

Of course, that was the cue for the building to remind them, that, yes, it was sliding into the river and they shouldn’t forget it. Wood groaned and cracked.

Water sloshed against his face.

“I’ll try again.” Before his mother could answer, he sucked in a breath and dove, finding his way down to whatever had his Mum pinned.

And goddamnit, it wouldn’t move!

He shoved and kicked and tried to work out why it wouldn’t budge. It felt jagged and cold and why the hell couldn’t he move it?!

His mother hooked his shirt again and dragged him to the surface.

“Allie, you have to go get help-”

But the building disagreed as it shuddered, creaked and his mother’s voice was cut off in a gurgle of water.

No!

He grabbed at her, using the sink at his elbow to pull her up as much as he could.

The water level was higher. He could feel it splashing against the sink.

Mum…

No…

“Mum, hang on here.” He transferred her hands to the ceramic basin. “I’ll get you out.”

The dark was ever so terrifying when wet. Water he couldn’t see flowed around him. As his hands found the rock and the hard place, Gordon came to mind.

He would know what to do.

Thunderbird Four had all the gear, all the tools. The Tracys would get his mum out.

But the Tracys weren’t here and his mum only had Alex.

And it was so dark and airless.

Panic sat at the edges of his mind and he had to fight it off.

He couldn’t even see the mechanics of the situation. Why was it not moving? What was stopping it? Weight? Angle? Something else applying pressure?

His brain clamoured for information, feeling around in the total darkness. It was a simple equation. He just didn’t have all the variables.

He only needed to move it a little bit!

And to breathe.

He shot to the surface, drawing in enough oxygen to dazzle his already aching head. “Mum!”

“Go get help, Alex.” It was her doctor, no-nonsense voice. Trust her to be calm as a cucumber in a dire situation.

He didn’t answer her, just heaved in more breath and dove again.

-o-o-o-

Thunderbird Two lowered with a roar into the parking lot of the Gisborne Farmer’s Market. Apart from the information John had shot to his comms, the sign Two crunched under her starboard landing strut said as much.

Scott had gone out of his way to free up Virgil and Two and get him over here. Gordon was out of his seat even faster than her pilot as the Thunderbird wound down to creaking cahelium.

“John, do you have any further information?” His fish brother was standing on the hatch waiting as Virgil darted through securing Two.

“Thunderbird Four, I assure you, you have everything I have. If I or Eos find anything further, you will be the first to know.”

Gordon grunted, bouncing on his feet in impatience.

Virgil didn’t say a thing as he joined his brother.

The hatch lowered and Gordon was out, accosting the nearest emergency worker.

Virgil took a step off the hatch and scanned the site with his eyes. Half of the main building was on the ground and being attended to by emergency workers. A makeshift medical tent had been set up at a distance from where he had landed Two.

Over the road to the west lay the remains of the Peel Street Bridge, now mostly flotsam in the swollen river. He mentally noted the level of the river should it need to be accounted for at any point.

Floating debris charted the current.

“No-one matching that description has been located here, sir.”

Virgil’s attention was drawn to Gordon as his brother dragged over a man dressed in fluorescent yellow and holding a tablet. His fingers were poking at it with agitation.

“We could do some help lifting the roof. We have two lifesigns still trapped.”

Virgil strode over and almost snapped the tablet out of the man’s hands. “Where? Thunderbird Five, give us a scan of the building.”

“FAB.”

A moment later the results appeared on Virgil’s wrist. Two lifesigns were flashing, both pinned beneath the remains of the structure’s roof.

A few calculations in his head and he was moving back to Two. Angles, weight, space and proximity. His exosuit was wrapped around him without thought and he was moving at a run across the distance between him and that fallen building.

“Make way! Make way!”

Virgil paid no attention to the emergency worker running behind him. All he saw was rubble and a solution to reaching those two lives.

His HUD flashed up stressors, bearing estimates, and the angles. Always the angles.

His feet landed on the remains of the concrete foundation as his HUD spouted what it could support in its current condition.

Enough. It could support enough.

Virgil placed his feet securely, exactly the right distance apart, set his shoulders and back. Data streamed as he slid his main gripper into the steel of the roofing mainframe. His secondary grip, often used more for stabilisation and balance rather than bearing weight, slid in beyond a structural support and exactly where…there…he locked them both into place.

He flexed his hands and began to lift.

Structural responses flowed, giving him numbers and needed adjustments…all good. The roof rose with the hissing of hydraulics and breath.

“Gordon, you’re in.”

He didn’t need to look. He knew his wingman had followed him. Sure enough, the Fish darted into the wreckage and a moment later reappeared holding a child. He handed her off to the emergency team and dove in again.

This time he returned with a woman limping and crying.

Virgil’s heart did not respond. Or at least it attempted not to.

The state of the roof continued to scroll across his HUD and the moment Gordon and John gave him the all clear, he gently lowered it to the ground.

And let out a breath that took some of his heart with it.

It didn’t take long after that for John to confirm that no, Alex was not on the site.

Gordon dragged Virgil back to Two and attempted to force coffee down his throat.

Of course, the thought of coffee made it all worse.

Standing in Two’s cockpit, a desperate moment away from being called to the next site, Virgil stared out the windows down across the length of the Taruheru River, collapsed buildings spotting the landscape.

Where the hell are you, Alex?

God.

Please be safe.

-o-o-o-

Next

[sporesgalaxy]

Talking about reading fanfic when you haven't interacted with the source material:

I think there's a lot of depends, especially when it comes to multi-player video games. There's not a lot of story and the game costs money, so instead you interact with fan artists & writers to get your fill.

I love horror games, but hate playing with random people and my friends don't play those games. Dead by Daylight has a lot of fanfic and fanart I like and I adore the original killers they have.

This happens with a lot of horror movies for me too just because there's a lot of meh movies with good concepts and fanfic writers often do that concept better and/or I'm more interested in the killer's story and character more than the leads.

I guess I technically interact with the source material if you count watching 20 min of compiled scenes from a movie. I love horror but there's so many tropes I hate about it that I don't want to sit through. Part of that may also be because I'm not a big scare person either. I'm not here to be scared by horror I'm here to find beauty in the disturbing and disgusting! And when I DO want to be scared, fanfic writers tend to do a much better job with how they make things feel so much more real

Video games are I think where a lot of people misunderstand what I (personally) mean by taking in the source material. How much you can engage with the source text without playing it yourself can vary a LOT on a case-by-case basis in games.

In my limited experience with multiplayer online game characters, playing the game yourself isn't as important as engaging with the character writing, which is usually more separate from gameplay since there's not normally cutscenes in online play.

I'm biased because I suck shit at games, but in my opinion, if the story of the characters in the multiplayer horror game is told through text blurbs and cutscenes and advertisement clips, and you watch/read all those things, just like someone who played the game would, that's close enough to engaging with the source material to me. You've taken in the tone of the source writing and you have most of the facts. Maybe there's some context lacking if you don't listen to every possible in-game voice line, but I think the effort to understand whatever you can get your hands on counts for a lot here.

With the horror movies...I guess I can't totally discount watching clip compilations based on what I just said about engaging with certain video games. But I stand by my assertion that you're missing out on valuable intertext for the parts of the movies you haven't seen, and I think it still takes away from your overall experience.

If there's a terrible sexist trope in the source movie, and the fanfic author changes how that scene goes, doesn't it matter how they changed it? How exactly the scene went originally? Did the original sexist trope fall in line with the themes the movie meant to convey? If it did, how does changing it effect that? Does it make the theme feminist-inclusive, or does it just gloss it over and pretend sexism doesn't exist and doesn't tie into the theme of the movie? If you never watched the scene, you can't entirely know / have formed an opinion!

I understand avoiding stuff that is too anxiety-inducing (I've done that with tons of stuff for most of my life because of my OCD). I can't really help you with dealing with when the movie just Is Successfully Scary. But for the stuff you read fanfic to see rewritten.........I feel like ignoring "sitting through" the shitty parts in the source material is robbing yourself of valuable experiences, too, even if those experiences kinda suck?

Understanding the structure of the shitty parts of media (and how one could disassemble them, if so inclined) is how we can learn to recognize shitty patterns we're otherwise accustomed to in all the other media we engage with regularly. It's a really valuable skill to have. So I think that specifically getting into stuff that HAS problems you KNOW about, and yet making no effort to Understand those problems fully (not that people can't fail to understand even if they engage with the source material, unfortunately), is just...a waste of a perfectly good learning experience?? I'm not the boss of you obviously but that's my two cents.

[wizard-irl]

Buying Crystals - Summary and How to Buy

Part 7 of 7 on a guide for buying crystals. Read the rest here!

So now we are done. Hopefully, you’ll walk away from this as a smarter customer and have a deeper knowledge of crystals that goes beyond metaphysics. 

In summary:

Mineral mining, in general, often coincides with human exploitation in developing countries without proper labour regulations. The workers are not paid fairly and are not given adequate safety equipment. The money from mining is more likely to go to militant groups than to the workers. If a seller does not disclose the source of their minerals in more detail than the country, don't buy from them.

Synthetic crystals are not lesser than natural crystals as they are chemically and structurally identical. Their differences come from being grown in an environment best suited for their growth instead of the imperfect conditions in the Earth. It then follows that a synthetic crystal would not be metaphysically different from a natural crystal. If a synthetic crystal picks up the energies of the lab, why wouldn't a crystal pick up the miners' pain? If a seller does not disclose a crystal being synthetic, don't buy from them.

Crystals may be modified in many ways. Such modifications may not be disclosed or passed off as natural crystals. If a seller does not disclose modifications, don't buy from them.

Crystals are often sold under different names, some of which are trademarked. If a seller owns a crystal's trademark, don't buy from them. Be wary if a seller does not own the trademark but sells a trademarked crystal. Find a crystal's "generic" name before buying a trademarked crystal or one with an unusual name.

Many crystals are outright faked. There are many ways to find out if your crystal is real. Andara crystals are glass slag. If a seller does not disclose their listing is an imitation, don't buy from them.

Due to this lack of scientific basis in crystal healing, proving claims about a crystal's metaphysical efficacy is difficult. This means sellers are all too willing to use your spiritual beliefs against you by using terms such as "supercharged," "Pleiadean," "high vibrational," etc., to make you think a crystal deserves more money than it does. If a seller relies heavily on spiritual buzzwords to sell you the value of a crystal, don't buy from them. If you wouldn't buy the crystal without spiritual buzzwords attached to it, don't buy it. 

And now, what should you look for when it comes to buying crystals?

Know how to search. Using "crystal" is going to give you purely metaphysical options. Search Google with "[name] -healing" to filter out any metaphysical stores and results.

Know the physical properties of your crystal. Metaphysical properties are great at finding what you need but aren't useful in how to find it. I'll make a separate post about this since there's a lot to cover, but at minimum, know a crystal's common colours, chemical composition, and crystal system. MinDat is a great resource for this.

Stay away from metaphysical sellers until you know what you're doing. Again, due to the impossibility of verifying their spiritual claims, metaphysical sellers are more likely to manipulate you into buying something for a higher price. I have also seen metaphysical sellers leave off where a crystal was mined from more commonly than non-metaphysical sellers. Until you get a good feel for scams or have good reason to trust this particular metaphysical seller, stick to non-metaphysical sellers.

When you find a listing, look at what name the crystal is listed under. Look out for trademark symbols, fanciful names that evoke an emotion or appeal to spirituality, or otherwise odd names. "[crystal] trademark" is a good way to check. As an easy reference, I have compiled crystal names and trademarks with their "generic" counterparts.

See how the crystal is described in the listing. Does the crystal's apparent worth rely solely on its metaphysical properties? Does the seller emphasise its spiritual benefit? Will this crystal be more beneficial to you than others of the same type? Metaphysical language itself is not a hard red flag since sellers know part of their customer base is people who use them metaphysically, but overuse of it to the detriment of describing the specimen itself is.

Find what country the crystal was mined in. Be aware of areas of active conflict and the mining regulations in developing and least developed countries. These countries are more likely to have laxer mining regulations, meaning more room for worker exploitation. I have seen sellers being cagey about their source country; if they are, look elsewhere. If you're buying in person, ask the store staff if they know. You can't be sure you're not contributing to exploitation if they don't.

Find the location or mine a crystal was mined in. A specific mine is best, but states, provinces, etc., may also be helpful. Look up "Are [location] 's mines ethical" or "Is [mine] ethical." See if there's any public statement regarding working conditions and sustainability. If a specific location is not listed, be wary. Working conditions can vary within a country.

Are there multiple images of the crystal provided? Is there a video of the crystal in someone's hand? More importantly, do these photos/videos appear elsewhere online that are not connected to the seller? Fraudulent listings are quickly revealed with a reverse image search if they reuse images from elsewhere.

Look at the price and compare it with similar listings. Overpricing is revealed by doing this. Don't compare it to another listing of the same mineral from the same seller. If you compare a price from a metaphysical seller, only compare it to others if you trust the other seller.

Finally, look at reviews if reviews are available. Don't stop at reviews on the seller's site; look at other sites. Reviews may mention things the seller wouldn't and may include images of their own as proof of purchase. Searching "[site/seller] credible/trustable/scam/reviews" is a good place to start.

Good, Suspect, and Bad Listings

These listings are fictitious but based on listings I’ve seen before. Both listings describe the same specimen.

Good Listing

From a site called “Mining Auctions:”

Quartz var. Amethyst Mined in the Four Peaks Amethyst Mine, Arizona. This specimen is a sharp, sceptre-habit crystal with rich purple hues at its tip that transition into being colourless at its base. Minor red inclusions on the base, likely iron. Amethysts is derived from the Greek word “αμεθύσκω,” meaning “not drunken,” as it was believed to prevent drunkenness when put into wine.

Amethysts is derived from the Greek word “αμεθύσκω,” meaning “not drunken,” as it was believed to prevent drunkenness when put into wine.

This listing tells you all you need to know: what it is, what it’s shaped like, what colour it is, and any other pertinent information, such as its inclusions. This mine is known for amethysts, and, being US-based, it is ethical in its treatment of its workers. While it does give a brief metaphysical mention, this is in an etymological context and does not dominate the listing. This is a trustable listing.

Suspect Listing

From a site called “Beauty Crystals:”

Amethyst Sceptre Amethyst sceptre from the US with minor iron inclusions at the base. Amethyst is a powerful crystal used in antiquity to relieve addictions, and supports inner strength. It connects with the third eye chakra to connect the physical plane to higher planes, and opens and activates the crown chakra to allow access to divine wisdom. Amethysts will fade in sunlight.

This listing, while it does give you essential physical information, including that amethysts fade in sunlight, there is no specific information provided for where it was mined. While a crystal mined in the US is almost certainly ethical, this will not be the place for other countries. Furthermore, the metaphysical descriptions, most of them appropriative, dominate the description to the detriment of the rest of the specimen's appearance. I would be wary of this seller and listing, but I wouldn't say to never buy from them based on this listing.

Bad Listing

From a site called “Lemurian Crystal Healers:”

Amazethyst™ Reiki Wand Normal amethysts are renowned for their ability to regulate emotions, relieve stress, and enhancing psychic ability. However, when we checked its energies, we found that it had the energetic signatures of the Pleiadeans!  The Pleiadean lightcodes have made the psychic abilities of amethyst more pronounced, as this crystal vibrates on a high vibrational 12D energy spectrum that allows you to connect with your galactic family and your past reincarnations. It’s emotional effects are also more pronounced, fantastic for depression, anxiety, and bipolar. Its purple hues stimulate the Third Eye Chakra, and may be used to trigger your Kundalini Awakening. As said in a channeled message from Archangel Uriel, was used in both Atlantean and Lemurian societies to help clear the mind and stabilise negative emotions. They emit pure love and light and will flood one’s soul with love, peace, divine power, and joy. Amazethyst™ has red iron inclusions, mixing the Divine Feminine energies of the Pleiadeans with the Divine Masculine. Amazethyst™, as all crystals, are multidimensional beings that have come to Earth to help us with our Ascensions. They remind us of our own magical beingness that allows us to achieve our own Divine Christ-Self.

It’d be easier to break down what this listing does wrong in a list:

The site’s name uses New Age buzzwords (Lemurian) and metaphysical-connoting words (crystal, healers).

The cutesy, trademarked name.

Undue emphasis on metaphysical properties.

No area is given for where the crystal was mined.

New Age buzzwords (Pleiadeans, 12D).

Misuse of scientific terminology (vibrational, spectrum).

Appropriation (reiki, chakras, Kundalini).

Spiritual appeals to authority (channelled message from Archangel Uriel).

Weird capitalisation (Divine Feminine/Masculine, Ascension, etc.).

Meaningless fluff (What does “Divine Christ-Self” mean? What is “Ascension?”).

This is a listing you should never trust and a seller you should always avoid. And if this listing makes you want to buy it even more, remember that this seller likely doesn’t give a damn about your spiritual well-being or at least cares more about your money.

Conclusion

Now we are finally done. This was a several-week effort of trying to fit together everything I know about crystals and an intentional effort to try to not sound mean so that I don’t scare away anyone who needs to hear this. My issue with people buying crystals isn’t that they’re buying them, but that people are allowed to sell crystals without disclosing what they need to disclose and shoving as much spiritual-babble into them to make them seem like they’re worth more. That is the issue.

[prhvlbop]

my thoughts on most cast members are not fully developed yet (even the ones i've already posted about, honestly) but there's something i really like about daan and karin's social dynamic. i think they're good character foils, in the sense that understanding one of them gives you a better lens to understand the other one from?

i know i've recently made a post about daan, but he was traumatized by his family at a young age and responded to it by not seeking help until after they were already out of the picture -- he didn't act on any agency he had before then, or take risks in order to minimize the damage they had on his life -- and upon being forced to make a decision on what to do with himself in their absence, as a kid, he ends up seeking out a similar dynamic in the form of the baron, who sort of impressed and insisted upon him who he should be and what he should be doing, and structures his life under his influence. he has never invested any part of his identity into himself, only other people. and now in his adulthood, he still takes a backseat to his role in his own life, despite having the agency to insist otherwise. there's nothing he truly wants to do, and every decision that he makes for himself is one he has been lead into. most events of his life were not decisions he actively made, but came to pass through acquiescence. it's as if he has dissociated through every memory and every event, even now. he takes an immensely passive role on Himself.

karin was always stubborn and independent due to her family's negligence and lack of personal affection, and at some point in her childhood is unsure if she's either genuinely entrusted to her babysitter or was kidnapped by her -- a fact that can only be confirmed by her own memory and perception of events, which becomes the main thing she trusts. she has never invested any part of her identity into other people, only in herself. it's hitting her in a sore spot that unexplainable events are happening when she KNOWS her best tools to protect herself are to trust herself and trust her gut, which is the basis for a lot of the 'gas leak' jokes. she is kidnapped and violently resists it as much as she feels able, and becomes both paranoid and distrustful with a strong sense of personal justice. it's what she wants to do, and is a decision that she made for herself in the face of opposition. most decisions she has made in her life, for herself, were in the face of opposition, struggling for any sense of security that makes things seem both safe and correct. she reacted to her own lack of agency (in lack of affection from her family, in lack of control over her life due to kidnapping, in injustice being done to her without her input) with deep-seated anger, paranoia, distrust, dogged stubbornness, individuality, and self-isolation. the first thing she does upon a new game start is, literally, run away from everyone else. she takes an immensely proactive role on Herself.

which makes a fun 'immovable object' versus 'unstoppable force' conversational dynamic! of COURSE she can't stand him. he repeatedly caves to whatever her complaints are with passive nonchalance, because he's only used to people that assert things onto him. she can't stand that he doesn't react with equivalently strong emotion, because it emulates her lack of control over the situation and her own life. she's obsessed with pursuing rigid facts to rely on in the face of human deceit and cruelty, and he's vague and alexithymic in the face of human deceit and cruelty. he very much has a Blank Soul, emotionally corrupting himself into a hollow shell of apathy, and she very much has an Endless Soul, emotionally corrupting herself into a hollow shell of hypervigilance. and i just think it's so funny that she both wants to get a rise out of him so badly and it's also the exact way to never get a rise out of him at all because he's so used to being dictated!!!

[zeroducks-2]

Sladedick 5 “Say my name“ A bit of context if you like: Vampire!Dick would give EVERYTHING for a drop of blood. He knows he's close to stasis by now. He just hoped that damn hunter would take that damn muzzle off of him. Slade, one the other hand, didn't really meant to starve Dick. He just happened to be very busy after he captured him and closed him in his dungeon. Now he's asking himself why Dick isn't trying to fight him

Hi darling dearest ♥ sorry it took me a while to get to this. Here you go, you can imagine this is set in the same timeline/universe as Sell Me The Infection

5. "Say my name" - Vampire!Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

(WARNING: dark themes, noncon, evil Slade and little bird locked in a dungeon. Please proceed with caution)

He tends to find the creature huddled up in a corner of his cell these days, less talkative than normal. In the sense that if normally he hisses and snarls, lately he just grunts quietly.

In fairness, Slade did manage to have a couple of conversations with the captive vampire. He knows his name appears to be Richard, and that other vampires - those who can speak that is - call him "Dick". It might be a human habit carried over to his undead state, it might be something else entirely, and Slade aims to find out. Capturing vampires and using them for their blood is his trade, but finding out more about their society and structure is his latest hobby, and learning through "Dick" is convenient enough.

Moreover having a vampire as a pet comes with a lot of perks, namely the fact that the creature possesses a crystalline beauty that makes Slade want to own every part of him, and sometimes feel the urge to smoother what light there is in his eyes. He could; the strong and proud creature is at his mercy and that also never fails to get his blood pumping.

Dick's head twitches as the door opens to let Slade in, and he tries to pull himself on his knees. His arms are bound behind his back and his mouth safely occupied by a muzzle, and so Slade confidently steps closer to card a hand through the black thatch on his head.

«Hello, Richard.» He says, not minding to be gentle as he lifts the creature's head up by his long curls. The vampire makes a sound behind the gag and Slade steels himself, expecting a fight of some kind, but the other just lets his eyes slip closed. «I'm not here to hurt you today.» He adds, wondering where that lack of fire is coming from, it would be a first. «Rather, if you're a good boy I'll take your gag off without binding you with silver.»

There isn't a strong reaction this time either, Dick just frowns but doesn't protest. He stays up on his own legs but his head is limp in Slade's hold, and when he's let go it heavily hangs down. There's a tremor to the creature's shoulders, maybe he's finally getting to his breaking point. Slade is eager to test it. He's done this already but the kicking, roaring and thrashing had made for a very brief if extremely intense experience. This time the vampire lets Slade turn him around and press him against the wall, displace his clothes and just trembles between him and the stone when Slade pushes two fingers between his buttcheeks and past the rim of his muscles. He makes a harrowed sound and shakes his head but doesn't really fight otherwise, and the shushing noises Slade makes on the side of his head seem to work in making him accept what's going down.

His body obediently yields in such an uncharacteristic way, and soon enough Slade is holding him from below the chin with a palm, moving into him as he likes while the creature's lithe form moves according to how he prefers, nearly limp in his arms. He makes another sound and his passage grips him, making Slade realize he has to have moved in a way the creature liked.

«So you can enjoy this,» Again he whispers to the side of his head, feeling down for his sex. It's not full but by no means it is limp either. «of course you can. And you're being so good for me today...» He rolls his waist and starts pumping, and Dick tenses up and quivers, mewling behind the gag. «Look how much you like it.»

Soon enough he's towering over the other after laying him down, in order to be able to see his pretty red eyes. They're hazy and circled with exhaustion but they glisten now, slightly rolling up when Slade bottoms out and grinds into him. He knows he's being reckless but he gives in to the temptation and unlocks the gag from Dick's nape, pulling it away to hear his voice come out unobstructed. And it's the gentlest whimpers, small gasps and choked out moans that make Slade grit his teeth and hold him down as he resumes chasing his own pleasure.

It's once he's done that he fully realizes how abnormal it is, that the creature didn't try even once to go for his neck, or even just his wrist. His eyelids are open but just a crack, enough to show how dull the normally scarlet red irises looks, the shade almost brown.

The root of the issue finally clicks with him, and Slade carefully picks him up and hoists him against his own chest. He doesn't cut his neck or his wrist - that's still too dangerous - just his palm. A few drops of blood are not enough and so he presses his hand to the limp creature's mouth, and it takes a minute but then he can feel Dick starting to sip, his ice cold lips pursing up against the slash.

His eyes open more and he makes a small sound, weakly trying to sink his teeth into Slade's hand, but he holds a palm to his forehead and keeps him, albeit still allowing him to drink in small laps. Eventually his body resumes to quiver faintly and that seems to be a good sign, he's not slipping into a twilight state anymore.

«You don't lose your mind like the other vamps. You just shut down.» Slade observes, softly like he was truly speaking to a lover. «Look at me, Richard. Do you see me?» Cloudy eyes shift up to his face. He can likely barely see anything and he doesn't make an effort to verbalize a reply. «Come on, little one.» Slade stresses his hand more open in order for the cut to bleed more, and Dick resumes slowly lapping at it. He keeps shivering and he still feels icy cold, but his eyes slowly grow more focused.

«Look at me.» Slade says, pinching his chin up and smearing more blood on his cheek. «I know you can see me now. Say my name.»

The creature blinks at him slowly, like he's trying to makses sense of the request. «Slade.» He whispers with barely any voice, his eyes slipping closed.

«That's good enough.» He replies, not really keeping himself from leaning down and nuzzling the top of his head. «You've been really good today, Dick. Keep it up and I'll get you out of this dungeon. Wouldn't you prefer to be in a room from where you could see the night sky?»

Dick makes a harrowed sound and a wince, but then nods, holding his eyes closed. Poor thing must be actually at his limit, unless he's trying to play Slade for a fool, but he has ways to play this safe anyway.

-

Oh wow look at this long ass post! For whoever got here and is wondering the fuck is going on, the context for this comes from here.

Thank you for asking BT ♥ I know, I should just update Sell me the Infection lol. I promise I will at some point.

Here's the prompt list for whoever wants to peruse it, or send me another prompt :)