#like idk i feel like discussions can be had here and i think these sorts of discussions need to be had

[redysetdare]

I wholeheartedly believe that the last thing that should be said in response to aspecs hating their identity is "don't worry! Aspecs can still do X, Y, and Z" and I'm so fucking serious about this.

The least helpful thing you can do to someone who have not accepted their aspec identity yet is give them ways to compensate for it. If an aspec person is upset over not being able to enter a romantic relationship, the last thing that should be done is to tell them they can still enter one or instead enter a QPR - not because that's not true but because that is quite literally going to stunt their ability to accept their aspec identity. Telling them they can instead enter a QPR when they're upset over the lack of romantic relationships is at MOST a bandaid for the main issue. Instead of them coming to accept their identity and accept who they are you have instead handed them an amatonormative alternative on a silver platter that allows them to pretend they still fit into amatonormativity without every deconstructing it. This is how we get QPRs getting shoved into an amatonormative framework - these people NEVER got over the "I'm sad that I'm aspec" phase because they were handed alternatives instead of given actual support in deconstructing their internalized aphobia, self hatred, and amatonormative biases.

[longagoitwastuesday]

Kusakabe, dear, you're too beautiful to be saying that kind of stuff

[phagodyke]

kind of annoys me sometimes how I can happily listen to my roommate explain the entire plot of whatever she's currently into but when it comes to my interests she can only listen for a few mins before wordlessly walking out of the room

[cthonic-bunny]

1. personal synastry and composite experiences and observations

Do not interact if you are a minor. (18+)

Sun in 8th house synastry: I was the house person they were the sun. I definitely developed insecurities I never had before as a result of this connection. With the sun shining brightly on my insecurities, they were hard to ignore and even harder to not project them entirely on the sun. A lot of “you did this to me!” energy. I didn’t consider myself a jealous person until this relationship and a lot of it came from wanting to be “good enough” in the eyes of the sun person. It’s like knowing you have these darker aspects in common and wanting them to see you can bond this way and see them in a way no one can. You also end up pushing limits together. You liked this? Now WE love this. You’re addicted to that? Now WE are addicted to it. Moderation is hard to achieve with sun in the 8th house synastry. It can also bring up insecurities surrounding sex with that person specifically, if poorly aspected. Explosive reactions and emotional outbursts aren’t foreign here. The house person can feel like a vampire being sunburned, with all its ugliness revealing itself from its body because of its interaction with this person. The 8H person wants a full, in-depth analysis of the sun person’s thoughts, intentions, and motivations. The plutonic energy wants to completely envelop the sun, compulsively in some cases, to know WHY they are the way they are, and why the sun presents themselves in certain ways. This is especially true if the sun person did something to hurt the 8H person, who can feel it more than is rational. The 8H person can really struggle with getting over any emotional harm or feelings of abandonment that come from the sun person. The 8H person can potentially resent the sun person for not being able to read them as intently as they could read the sun person. The sex, if and once insecurities are worked through, can bring you so much closer to one another and to yourself. I also feel like any disturbances or intimacy problems between you two can easily be felt by others or there can be blow ups in front of people you know, because the sun is a planet that illuminates wherever the light lands, whether you like it or not. Avoid public fights, because you will kiss and makeup but the damage in other people’s eyes will be done and opinions will be made. The 8H person might be able to see through any facade the sun person puts up, and this could lead to deep discussions that could be extremely healing for the Sun who might have to work through some things. The 8H person can also teach the sun person how to make more money and maybe even encourage them to start their own business. They can be known as a couple that makes a lot of money together. The sun person can also give sugar daddy/mommy vibes and the 8H the sugar baby, even if it neither one of the people involved are rich-rich. This is a highly binding placement. You two might find it difficult or even impossible to separate from each other even if the relationship has run its natural course. You guys are known as the couple that is “stuck” to one another.

Moon in 5th house synastry: *weird* but, for those who have this placement with a significant other, do you love to smell their body odor? I think in the house of children and fertility, it makes sense to love your partner’s pheromones. Something as weird as the smell of their armpits or stinky feet becomes comforting, idk?? This house is also really fun, and you can get a lot of emotional fulfillment out of acting like children together. 5H is ruled by Leo, so I also found that we had a lot of fun putting on “shows” for one another, and sort of making up our own characters and accents to make the other giggle. People are also really excited for the prospect of us having children together, and you’ll have friends volunteering to babysit or be the godparent of your unborn children LOL. Dressing up nice and going out on dates to somewhere with a great ambiance can be a great way to feel connected. Sharing perfume, or gifting each other perfumes or colognes. Loving the scents they wear. Same taste in candles? Candles as gifts. Lots of watching TV together? Having “shows” that feel wrong to watch without the other. Being called pretty by the other means a lot, and being pretty in each other’s eyes makes you feel good.

Moon in 12th house synastry: 12H synastry tends to have an awful reputation, and I get it when it’s a relationship that isn’t meant for you. However, my moon falls in my best friend’s 12H, and it is one of my favorite placements of ours. We have a telepathic connection where we can just look at the other and know what’s up. You preemptively know what will bother the other person and find it hard to understand how other people wouldn’t have assumed that thing would annoy your person. You understand each other’s motives, and can provide the ultimate shoulder to cry on or ear to listen with. When it’s a new interaction it can feel a bit intense, because how are you in my head!!! I feel like you can read my thoughts! It was like that for the both of us. It’s like, when together, both our consciousnesses transported to another realm where we are mutually perceiving something and our thoughts are being put on a radio for the other to listen to. Very spiritual relationship. You KNOW the vibes, and those feelings will be verified through the other person who already felt the same. She will never be wrong in my eyes and I will defend her to the death. We don’t even have to speak on certain days, but we can feel whatever mood the other one is in and check-up on each other accordingly. Whenever we have a strange dream or nightmare, the first thing we do is text each other and try to analyze what it could mean. I as the 12H person also dreamt of us becoming best friends before we formally met. The dreams i would have of her would always be loaded with spiritual symbolism. We also grew up with the same level of emotional attachment to our personal spiritualities and shared religion, which plays a large role in our understandings of one another. Most people just won’t get it, but she always will. She could read my crazy journal entries if she wanted to. 12H moon synastry is just unconditional love. Between friends at least, it feels like a long-lost twin connection. Also, her and I had gotten matching tattoos before we even knew of each other, both of them being for the same spiritual meaning!

Composite Mars in 3rd house: Lots of talking during sex, and lots of car sex— It might sometimes feel like that’s the easiest thing to talk about, or the conversation always steers to that direction. Sending nudes? Sexting. Maybe the only way you two could engage your sexual desire for one another is through sexting, because distance might not permit the full physical expression. If you don’t have a lot of experience knowing the other’s communication style, it can lead to a bit of random defensiveness or perceiving the other as communicating abrasively. I think it can lead to one trying to get reactions out of the other by saying something out of pocket.

Composite Mercury in 12th house: Pay attention to the dreams you have of this person! They will seriously tell you a lot about your dynamic, but don’t take them at face value! Lots of mystical elements to your dreams about them specifically, so maybe reviewing tarot card meanings and astrology concepts can help you decipher the meanings of your dreams. You might find it easier than expected to confide in each other or rant about your brain’s inner workings together. “I don’t know why I’m saying all that-“ or psychoanalyzing each other for fun. Talking about your less-than-desirable attributes. Being honest about your deceptive tendencies or specific lies you’ve told and why. Oversharing things that will usually make other people uncomfortable in the same context (like talking about your exes or failed situationships on a first date). Difficulties communicating when it’s not in person because it leaves too much room for confusion. Deceit is a real possibility though, with someone voluntarily “leaving out details” about their life outside of the relationship to avoid ruining the flow of energy or the dynamic. Having each other saved on your phones under fake names. Having to hide that you’re talking to this person from other people. One of you withdrawing communication to manipulatively make the other think about you more. Taking turns being each other’s therapist. Thinking about each other often but never expressing that, or the extent to which you think of one another. Thinking about the other at night before going to bed. “I started catching feelings for the girl that I’m currently having sex with, so it’s safe to say we don’t talk anymore, unless of course we’re having sex” in Sasquatch .22 by Bay Faction.

Composite Venus in 12th house: There really is a secretive component to this interaction that can feel impossible to bypass. Your family, friends, or society might not “approve” of you two together. One or both of you can be cheating on someone with this person. Only being able to meet up or be affectionate at night or in extremely private settings. The privacy of the relationship can help you open up a lot more than you’d expect to, because there’s no one but you two to perceive the other in this context. No judgments on how you two should behave with one another, so “let’s fully enjoy the moment while it lasts.” No one understanding your interaction or it’s purpose, and you probably don’t understand it either. Sending telepathic love notes. Longing. Intimate and romantic sex that haunts you or catches you off guard. Never wanting to be the first one to admit you’ve caught feelings. Ruining your sleep schedule to spend time with one another. Dreaming about romantically linking with them before it ever happens. Withdrawing once feelings start feeling real. The song “Lips of Angel” by Hinder reminds me of Composite Venus in 12H. “Illicit Affairs,” “August,” and “False God” by Taylor Swift. “Why Can’t I?” by Liz Phair. Gato de Noche by Bad Bunny. Sex by The 1975.

Lilith in 8th house synastry: Wanting to try things sexually with this person that wasn’t necessarily exciting with other partners. “You can do whatever you want to me, and I’ll let you.” Possibly experimenting with or preferring BDSM with one another. That Lana lyric that’s like: You fucked me so good that I almost said “I love you.” It might also be controversial if people knew you’ve had sex with one another. Revenge sex? As in, you two having sex might indirectly be spiting someone else, and it kind of feels like you’re dishing out delicious karma on a surprising silver platter— “lol if only they knew” You two might have fun misbehaving together. Doing what you both know you’re not supposed to be doing can make everything feel better, and even more reason to keep doing what you’re doing. Lana Del Rey in Diet Mountain Dew: “you’re no good for me, but baby I want you.” Wanting to be dangerous together. “Leave me bruised so I can’t forget you.” “Seeing you tonight is a bad idea, right?” This placement somewhat reminds me of a union between the death card and the devil card in tarot, with an emphasis on risk-stained sexual liberation. You can become symbolic of temptation in each other’s lives, so it’s hard to deny your impulses. Toxic by Britney Spears.

-D 🖤🕯

[netherfeildren]

Busy, Dying. Part 2;

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, They're behaving badly and doing things they shouldn't be doing idk, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Scenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst, He’s a loser your honor!!!

Word Count: 6.3K

Read on AO3

Part 2;

It is your own conspiracy that if you say the words three times in the mirror—I am so alone I am so alone I am so alone—the feeling will go away. Banished ghost. 

You commit yourself to this practice religiously for three weeks before you feel you must absolutely return to the meetings held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church or you might just die. 

The first Friday back, you watch him. He blunders around the crowd, struggling to find a seat when he rushes in late that evening, trying to sit as far away from you as possible and, to his great misfortune, ending up right behind you. Squashed between two old ladies, his big body comically trying to fold itself into the tight rows. You laugh at him the whole way through the meeting. 

He’s like a raging bull after that. Scowly and unapproachable as the omegas in the group inevitably make their meager attempts to talk to him. It makes it all the more irreconcilable, a man like that here in a place like this—all the while with a wife at home. 

You wonder about her. 

“That one has a bad temper,” Maria warns as the two of you watch him. They seem to know each other in some way outside of this church, and it takes everything in you not to beg for details. “Big and hairy like a bad, lonely dog.”

You say, “I think he’s shy.” 

She watches you very peculiarly after that, and tells you, “You’re lost, girl. Joel Miller isn’t what you need finding you.”

But you know this, you assure her, and you continue to avoid him. 

The following Friday, he’s the one playing the disappearing act. The next week, as well—no show. You start to dread even your own shadow, wondering where he is, wondering if he’s ever coming back, if he has children and how old he is. Wondering if he wonders about you. Wondering why you’re so obsessed.

Too full of curiosity for your own good, you hover when he finally appears once again. Circling him and Maria, desperate for any sort of information. 

His wife had been sick, he says. He’d had to take her to the doctor. 

You wonder if her sickness might be his baby—sick to your stomach at the thought of it yourself. 

Finally, the week after, the two of you break your fast from one another. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says, coming up from behind, ambushing you once again at the dessert and coffee trough. This is supposed to be a safe space, yet it feels anything but with him near. 

“No I haven’t.”

“You’re not supposed to tell lies in church. It’s a sin.”

“I don’t believe in sin.” You turn to face him, and your stomach hurts. 

He’s got on a dark green fisherman’s sweater—well worn but knit sturdy. A thing that looks as if it’s been his for years. 

You’re feeling thin-skinned and unable to face him today, and for no good reason. You don't know this man. You have no right to punish him with your silence, no right to be angry, to wonder about him. But that sternness from before, the one that looked too heavy for him to carry, has been wiped away from his face now, and in its place he only looks very earnest, like he really wants to talk to you. And it’s only that, well you don’t know him, yes, but you’d felt that you needed to, or that you would. That you were meant to find him in this place, and you’re angry at yourself and at him at how wrong you’d been, still even after all these weeks of radio silence while he’d been busy caring for his sick wife. 

“Me either,” he gives a small huff of laughter, shoving his fists into the pockets of his dark jeans. 

Setting the donut in your hand back on the table—rude and gross, but it’s an afterthought—you wipe your sweet sweaty palm against your hip, appetite all gone now. The basement is suddenly unbearably hot, your heart beating in your throat. 

“Anywho, I gotta run. Somewhere to be—” you mumble, brushing past him. There’s a sudden rush of itching heat burning its way up your chest, your throat, ants crawling over your scalp. The room is stifling, your limbs leaden and too many bodies; so many disgusting, clashing scents: pheromones, and desperation and such terrible loneliness, and him at the center of it, ambrosial.

You’ll have to recite your mantra more faithfully in the mirror every night, not a single miss. Remind yourself, I am so alone, so that the feeling might go away, and you’ll forget him and the way he smells and his eyes like amber green river stones, more quickly. 

“Whoah, hold on,” he calls after you, following to the exit and up the steps to the world outside of this church. You’d brought a coat today, unable to enjoy the cold the way you usually do, uncharacteristically chill, aching limbs, miserable in the biting morning air. He calls your name, and you clutch the wool against your chest, trying to hurry away from his much longer legs and pace as he catches up. 

Suddenly, though, you change your mind. Whirling around to look up, you stop your running, and he’s right there, so close. “I haven’t been ignoring you. You were gone.” Mind changing again, your gaze falls, unable to hold his eyes. You watch his left hand flex like he wants to do something with it. 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

A scoff. “What are you apologizing to me for?” 

“You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my entire life.” He says it quietly by way of explanation, like another apology. 

“You must not have met very many interesting people.”

It feels hot and cold at the same time out here. Your stomach still hurts. Your eyes ache as if you could cry, which is ridiculous because you have absolutely no reason to cry. 

“Maybe not,” he says very low. It seems he’s drifting closer, like you’ll float away. A car honks its horn loudly somewhere in the background, and you still can’t look at his face. His own coat is clutched in his fist and now the honker is shouting too, expletives and God’s name being taken in vain. 

“You should go back in there,” you tip your chin at the depths you’d just fled from, stealing a quick glance at his face, “Find someone else who’s interesting.”

He grunts once, a wordless no and lifts his coat to drape it over your shoulders—you decide you’re even colder now, you don’t think you’ll ever be warm again—and takes yours from your listless grip, draping it over his elbow. 

This man. “Aren’t you here to get to know people?” You demand, finally looking up at him angrily. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Let’s go for a walk.” His palm at your bicep urging you towards Arlington and the garden sends all sound skittering out of your ears. He reminds you of your earlier words, that he might like to walk, and you can hear yourself agreeing while you look up at the muted light of the late November afternoon leaching through the cloud cover. Through the wool and cotton you feel your skin sucking heat from that singular point of contact, warming you entirely.

It had been blisteringly cold last night, the alluring taste of incumbent winter in the air, and a vicious frost had ermined all the tree trunks within the Boston Public Garden, roughened the surface of the grass. 

Joel chooses a quiet spot by the pond, the willow weeps above your head and all around the two of you the sharp autumn air is lightly laced with the fragrance of leaf rot. An elderly couple floats serenely in a lone swan boat at the center of the pond, not a ripple in the surface, as if they weren’t really there. 

Helping you to sit, he gently pulls his coat from your shoulders, laying the garment for you to rest on protected from the frigid ground and carefully looping your arms through your own coat now, he pulls the excess fabric of his up, draped over your shoulders once again, leaving you securely enveloped from the cold. 

“Here, let me help you,” he says, and the sudden gentleness in his voice makes you want to burst into tears. His character, that of some matryoshkin sort, one embedded in another in another, never knowing which is the realest one, the truest one, which will come next. Angry snarling dog one day, a gentleness that burns the next. You have the sense that a person could know him for decades and still never reach the center, never cease to discover more. 

Sitting before you—you perch alone on the island of his given coat—he tilts his head, leaning back braced on thick arms to look up at the swaying vines with just an impression of brilliant yellow-green, as if that were the color of the air. A sudden breeze stirs the softness of his hair, lifting a stubborn cowlick, and at that exact moment, the cloud cover parts on the face of the sun. In the brilliant shaft of buttered sunlight, his dark curls glint with specks of purest silver, leaving you wishing you could touch the fan of fine lines at the corner of his eyes, feel his age with your fingertips. 

“You’re angry with me,” he finally says, head still tilted towards the sky. You watch him very closely, learning. His voice is deep, quiet. He looks tired, the violet shadows beneath the brilliant hazel eyes. Still beautiful, the full, slightly sulky curve of his mouth surrounded by dark beard. He is everything, all of him, masculine. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

Finally, he looks at you, too. He’s got a big head, proportionate to his big body, that falls back heavily. You can’t help smiling at him, it feels too natural. 

“Now you’re honest.”

“I wouldn’t tell a lie here,” you say, and he sighs like you’re a supremely difficult little omega, too impossible to be reasoned with. But turning back to the sky, eyes closed now, there’s a smile across his mouth also, and you wish the two of you could sit here and laugh forever in this moment.

The silence between the two of you is marvelous enough to be unnerving. Settled beneath his great coat, you’d never believed you could feel the cold so little—learning every fine detail that makes up the man. Even inches away from him, he seems utterly unattainable, each of the two of you existing on your separate islands—you trace the woolen edge of his coat against the ground—some twenty years your senior and married. But the cold has given you such a feeling of grounding buoyancy. You’d awoken angry, miserable, so full of despair you would’ve been sick with it if it were possible. And now—you hadn’t felt this alive or awake in years, perhaps your entire life. He is a marvel, and there are bubbles in your head threatening to take you floating away, and yet, your feet are firmly melded to the ground in reality. 

How attractive, how delicious the prospect of intimacy is with someone who you know will never grant it. It fills you with something ferocious or hungry or snapping, something pathetic that makes you want it all the worse. And he, with a gravitational pull too strong to even think of escaping.

Yes. You hadn't felt so happy in years. 

“How old are you?” Breaking the silence, you ask him.

“Forty three.”

“You have a brother.” He nods. “I have one too.”

“Do you speak to yours? I don’t.”

“He calls me once a month. It’s all he can bear of me.”

“Mine won’t speak to me.” He sounds sad saying so. 

“Why not?”

“I hurt him. Scared him.”

“My brother, he says my whole life is papier-mâché. My values are all wrong, I’m a crowd-pleaser. It’s probably true.” You’d felt it impossible to better yourself, and yet still, you tried for him. “How did you hurt him?”

“You can’t change a man, only make him more secure. Depending on his character that may then bring happiness or strength or success. Tommy’s failure of this in me was more than he could bear, also.”

The willow becomes your confessional. “I spiked my own drink once just to see what it would be like. A doctor told me afterwards that I have self destructive tendencies. I want to hurt myself, but I don’t want to actually feel the hurt, which makes me all the more addicted to it. A supernumerary on the stage of my own life, too afraid of hurting and hungry for it at the same time.”

The heel of his left hand, you notice, is bearing down on an old acorn burr, and yet he seems not to feel the pain. 

He’s looking at you very intently now. Some glimmering streak in his eye. It almost looks aggressive, and a muscle flutters madly at the edge of his jaw. He straightens, sitting up to face you. The acorn burr is left flattened and disfigured in his wake.

“The last doctor I saw told me I was depressed. I never went back after.”

“Are you?”

He laughs surprisingly full of humor and then instantly serious again. “Probably. I’ve been watching my life, scratching at it trying to get in. I can’t. It’s right there.” The matryoshka shuffles, locked in his melancholy one moment, spilling brightness the next. 

You want to understand him so badly your hands shake with it. 

“What’s your favorite thing about your work?” You ask him. 

Where does his wife think he is right now?

“That’s a nice question. Maybe…” he thinks a moment, “Getting to make things that’ll go in people’s homes. The idea that something that came from me will be surrounded by a family.”

You can’t help yourself. “Why aren’t you at home?” You ask him imploringly, unbearably sad for him, sick with need, desperate to understand what it is he’s doing here, and all at once, utterly certain of what it is you are. “Don’t you love your wife?” The question is posed with no bravery, and yet it still comes out into the world demanding. 

He clicks his tongue, taken aback, a shocked breath, maybe even a small, reproving smile. A hundred different emotions coming to life across his face in that single moment. 

“I don’t know,” he finally answers. “I remember loving her. Maybe. At best? She’s a stranger. At worst? An excuse?” But he says it like a question. He’s asking you, not telling, for he isn’t even sure of it himself. You’ve caught him off guard. 

“No…” the click of his tongue snapping you to attention, “That's too generous. We’re trapped in a box together, but completely strange to one another.” It suddenly feels like he shouldn’t be telling you this—about her. You’re sure he shouldn’t be. 

“Do you hate each other?” You ask anyway. There’s something…your only example of love and marriage being two people who had always hated one another and filled the home where their children lived with more hate. It’s difficult to fathom something different than what that had looked like. 

If you were truly brave, you’d ask if he has children, too. 

“No,” he says immediately, a non option, his brow furrowed. “That would take too much effort.” 

Now you understand. He’s alone anyways. The feeling of urgency within you mounts. You’re frightened by this moment of discovery. 

“You’re Southern. Your accent…” You can’t discuss this anymore, needing to change the subject. 

“Texas.”

“When did you leave?”

“Long time ago.”

“Do you miss it?”

At his, he laughs like the question is ironic. “No. Where are you from?”

“Sometimes it feels like I can’t even remember.”

And as if he’d pulled the feeling straight from your mouth, he tells you that he understands what that’s like, and you can’t help it when you reach for his hand, being as careful with him as you would any shy creature, needing to hold him. 

-

“I’ve never been in love,” you tell him, childish look of recklessness and valor coming across your face as you pick up on the earlier thread of conversation you’d frightened yourself with. “It seems too daring, even grotesque.” 

He thinks he wants to capture that look in a bottle and take it everywhere with him. His entire body throbs with a heartbeat and the shape of your hand fits his as if every joint and muscle and soft ligament had been specifically designed for him to hold, filled suddenly with a terrible sense of foreboding. Looking at you, one just knows there’ll be a broken heart. 

Your small thumb smooths gently over his large one, and he marvels that such an exquisite creature would touch him. God, but you’re beautiful. Your touch, soft and enticing and painful all at once. No one had ever been so gentle with him.

“Won’t you tell me a secret?” You beg.

He will. He might give you anything in this moment. In the weeks he’d been kept away, he’d desperately counted the days and minutes until he could return to that place of worship and honesty. 

“I think about you,” voice hushed, the shaking of the leaves not loud enough to mask the soft breath you suck in as he gives you his confession. He maps the architecture of the small hands in his grasp, fingers tracing fingers, uncured clay fragile before the heat. He feels tired and strangely spent, almost drunk on your touch. His thumb slides upwards, marveling at the softness of your wrist, and then there, beneath the shivering distraction of your pulse and his disturbing search, the unlocked fragrance of your scent gland. It drifts towards him slowly like smoke rising from sleep.  

The air seems to pulse between the two of you with heat and premonition. That singular moment before everything goes terribly wrong, he can see it in your eyes. Such vibrancy, excitement, recklessness turned danger. 

“We should…” you feel him begin to pull away, grappling to hold on to the moment and his hand, “We should fuck.” He takes himself back, letting you go. Where else was this being led?

He cringes away from you. “Excuse me?” 

“Sex. You’ve had it before.” His mind reels. His body’s reaction at hearing your mouth say these things, the way it shapes them, the soft, full lips wrapped around the words.  

Looking away, he watches the pond’s couple help each other out of the swan. In his periphery, he can see you begin to bristle at his silence. 

“Don’t be peevish. It’s unbecoming.” 

He can’t help feeling angry. “I’m not. I’m old enough to be your father.” And you laugh at him. You’re deviating paths now, going opposite ways and angry at one another for it. 

“We could pretend that—if that’s what you want,” you say, voice husky and seductive. A small palm smooths up his thigh and his gaze snaps fire at you, hand clamping painfully at your wrist, fingernails digging at your gland, disturbing more of that gorgeous scent into the air. 

You make a pained sound. He needs to leave. He needs to never see you again.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he shoots back, hot everywhere. 

“Don’t be a prude.” He flings your wrist away, and you cradle it against your chest as if he’d hurt you. The heat turns to guilt pulsing through his limbs. 

Warring to wounded then, your eyes. You wrap your fingers around your discarded wrist. “What if we lose everything? What if tomorrow’s the end of the world? What if we’re so thoroughly cured of our loneliness after all this is done, we never feel like we need another person this way again?” 

His muscles tense with the need to flee or attack, the thought of you needing him, of being needed in such a way—he’s like some creature coming upon its mate. 

Despite his age, he had never tried to truly seduce anyone. He had never truly wanted anyone. Not in any real and base sort of way. Desire for him had been a mute and ordinary thing. But he could have you now, turned into a thing he’d never been before, he could mount you and rut you into the dirt like an animal. Never so much a product of his designation as he feels in this instant. 

He can’t even form word, and your body seems to pulse against his with embarrassed heat and indignation. 

“Have you ever even fucked an omega?” You spit at him meanly. 

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.” Voice carefully restrained, each syllable off his tongue is measured with his tenuous control. 

“Tell me anyways,” you demand, shoving his coat off your shoulders being the thing that almost makes him lose it. 

“It’s cold. Put that back on.”

“Tell me.” And he shouldn’t. You should have no sway over him. No demand of his honesty or anything else that belongs to him.

“Once. Only because I wanted to know what it was like.” He’s man enough to admit to himself the embarrassment he feels telling you this.

But it seems to quell some tremor in your eyes, and you sit back, palm petting at your throat as if you’re trying to soothe yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, gaze averted, glassy, delirious look there. “I’ve always gotten my feelings hurt easily. I’m—” you shake your head quickly, sucking on your lip. “...too sensitive. Sometimes I feel like I’ll float away if I don’t find anyone to hold me down.” 

He should tell you that you’re not, wants to, but the image of you weak and pinned beneath him churns in his mind. Whole body aching suddenly, needing his hands on you before he does something truly heinous—he straightens abruptly, abandoning your reassuring warmth. Feeling suddenly cold despite the sweat dotting his spine. 

Without another word he turns to leave you there, alone, while the swan pair watches from across the pond as the two of you part ways. 

The next morning he awakens stiff and burning, his cock a brand of heat against his stomach. And works his entire day in a static haze, lavender spots at the edge of his vision where all he can think about is how you smell and the way your hand feels in his. By five o’clock, his fingers ache, spasming painfully from gripping his tools too hard. Breaking his weeks-long habit, he decides to attend the Saturday night meeting, full of constrained energy and sullen moodiness. Reasoning that a pretty, young girl like you wouldn’t waste her weekend in the basement of a church abandoned by God. 

And is sick to his stomach with equal measures elation and dread when he spots you sitting amongst the crowd of metal folding chairs—wearing his coat. He doesn’t hesitate even a little when he claims the seat next to yours. 

The two of you sit in strained silence the entire meeting, the other alphas and omegas surrounding throwing alarmed and intrigued glances your way as the tension brews hotter and more frenzied. 

His body hurts. This is a painful kind of lust. 

He listens to the speakers tonight with only half an ear, instead, occupied with the memory of what you’d looked like the other week eating a jelly and cream filled donut, imagining what your mouth would look like smeared with his blood and come. He can smell your body, how hot and trembling nervous you are. So unlike all that blistering, innocent valor from yesterday. 

The omega with the cruel husband turned sick one is taking her turn again tonight. Now that he looks at her, she has hair that at one time was vibrant red, now turned a softened copper threaded through with white. Time is such a painful, slow thing, Joel thinks. 

“Have you ever been with someone you knew you were too good for?” The omega asks the room, while the one beside him begins to shake, knee jolting nervously.

You’re anxious, and it makes him angry that you should be made so by his actions. 

Too rough for forbearance, his palm clamps down tightly on your knee, holding it still, and you make some supplicant whimper at the back of your throat. Almost imperceptibly, you draw away from him, the line of your shoulders growing rigid, and a wild, irrational sense of loss steals his breath. 

He’s been so busy lately, distracted. He’s hungry, overstrained, anxious himself. He doesn’t mean to be brusque with you. He just can’t help himself. 

Would we be here if we had? Someone lost in the crowd pipes back. 

The woman laughs, she has a kind face. “Me either.” You shove his palm off your leg as if it burns. “But there was someone… once. A chance, maybe. Someone I didn’t choose but should have. We were friends. We came very close to being happy.” 

And he suddenly feels a wave of desolation so overwhelming wash over him. He turns to look at you, your vibrating profile, so pretty, and he’s gentle this time when he touches your knee. Just to feel you. How terrible, he thinks, to only come very close to being happy. 

The speaker changes, and then it’s Maria’s voice talking to them all. Joel still can’t look away from you as you, in turn, refuse to look at him. “Stop, Joel,” you whisper. But he can’t. 

“At the start of this, we usually discuss a second option for those of you who aren’t able to find what you’re looking for in this. Sometimes it’s not so simple,” Maria tells them. 

A miracle move on drug, she calls it. 

The group’s coalition is sponsored by a pharmaceutical company, one testing a cure for loneliness. Something they think of as pilled perfection, something to numb the pain of loss. Any emotional wound, now with the potential to be a thing of the past. The young omega handing out the pamphlets had promised an easy cure, it seems this is what he’d been referring to. And if the potential side effects included an inability to hold on to any sort of emotional attachment afterward, well, the encounter groups they’d targeted thus far were grateful for it in the end anyway. They were all alone after all. 

“It’ll help you let go of everything you can’t let go of,” Maria tells them. “Help make you forget. Help make you un-lonely. We’ll be holding a session Wednesday morning for anyone who’s interested in being part of the trial. Our sponsor company, Firefly, is very happy to welcome as many of you as possible.” 

Beside him, you whisper, “Only a coward would take that option. What a cheat.” He hesitates, perplexed and wounded by your words. 

“You’ll never have to grieve or miss something you can’t get back, ever again. I know that for many of you, this is the ultimate fantasy,” Maria says.

“I think it sounds like something to help let go. Like what I came here for.”

You exchange cards. Now it’s your turn, the wounded look. 

When Maria’s through, bidding the group goodnight and setting them all free to mingle, you’re up and out of your seat before he can get a word in. He watches you go as if he were some sort of abandoned lapdog, only for a second, before he’s once again, striding after you. 

You weave almost drunkenly through the crowd, first heading towards the exit, then to the beverage station, then correcting and veering towards the back hall where the restrooms and catechism classrooms are. 

Gaining on you, he takes you by the elbow, pushing you deep into the darkness of the long hallway. Going far enough the din of desperate socialization turns a quiet murmur. You’re really in the belly of the beast now. So quiet and dust infused it feels as if it’s been years since a soul stepped through here. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Your face glows with fevered sweat. 

“I’m sick,” you mumble on the tail end of a whine when he shakes your arm into responsive compliance. “Let me go. Stop,” you fight, trying to claw away from him.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I threw up all night. And you have the personality of a snarling dog more than a man. Has anyone ever told you that?” Shoving at his chest now feebly.

Ignoring your caterwauling, he takes you in entirely. “You’re not sick,” he says again, sure now. 

There’s a timeless hunger gnawing at his gut. Joel suddenly feels more himself than he think he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

Dragging you high against his chest by the collar of his own coat, he brings the tip of his nose slowly to the valley of sweet fragrance at the side of your throat. Inhaling deeply at the flushed, swollen scent gland there. The sound of your toes scuffing against the floor excites him even more. 

“You’re not sick. You’re going into heat,” he says slowly; gathering the overwhelmed, shivering creature as gently as he can in his arms. 

Your fingers claw at his own throat in return, as if digging for his own answering scent. “No. But it’s not time. I had one not so long ago.” You sound on the verge of tears, and he makes a deep, soothing sound in his chest. “My blockers...I— I can’t be. It’s not time yet.”

“It’s a breakthrough heat.” His other hand comes around to the small of your back and ever so slowly, he presses your hips closer to his. “It’s mine. Because of me.”

“No.” You shove back with renewed strength suddenly, spinning around to scurry deeper down the dark hall and then careening on weak legs into an abandoned classroom. 

Heart beating madly at the prospect of the hunt, he takes a singular calming breath before he’s prowling after the sound of your crying. 

-

“You need to not run from me right now. It’ll make my rut come faster,” his deep voice comes from somewhere in the dark unknown. 

You scramble around the children’s desks, weaving your way clumsy with disorientation to the far end of the classroom. You don’t want to go into heat right now. You can’t. Not with him. You need to be safe and alone in the confines of your warm, comfortable bedroom, far away from the temptation of him.

His heavy, panting breath sounds closer and there’s a shriek in your throat like a struggling kitten. 

“You want me to lose my self control. That’s what this is, isn’t it?” There’s a loud crash as he shoves one of the little desks out of his way, followed by your answering shriek. And then he’s here, coming up behind you but finding mercy enough to hold himself back at the last moment, panting as if he’d just run miles fighting against himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry. Come here, baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay.” He takes a step closer, and the slowing of his breath and soothe of his voice calms you in turn. “You’re only going into heat, that’s all, sweet girl. I’ve triggered it for you and I’m sorry. Let me come to you.”

You let out a high and harried sound, palm smoothing over your throat over and over again. “Joel,” you say once.

“I’m here. It’s okay.”

“It’s only that—”

“What is it?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m embarrassed.” A helpless tear spills out over the edge of your eyelid. 

“You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about with me. Ever. We understand each other, you and I. Don’t we?”

And he’s right of course. You’d picked his face out of the crowd in instant recognition, after all. “I’ve had heats…but I’ve never—never had a, a heat with someone. With an alpha.” 

He’s utterly silent and you feel deranged enough you’re almost certain you can hear the pound of his heart inside his chest.

“You’ve never had a knot take your cunt?”

“No.” You swallow. “Never.”

You hear a muttered fuck, and his breathing goes quick and shallow and then even again. He has better control over himself than you do at this moment. 

“Then how?”

You flush full of heat, embarrassed. “T—toys,” you stutter. “Medication to help ease it.”

When he steps closer, only calm accompanies him. All is suddenly quiet. You want him. Your disjointed mind, overwhelmed by too many confusing emotions had gone into overdrive for a moment, but now, with the scent of hot, aggravated alpha surrounding you, it’s obvious this was all you’d needed to calm down. 

You can feel his hot breath against your forehead, the wash of heat on each exhale and the lingering scent of sweet musk at his inhale. You touch his cheek with shaking fingers and feel him turn ever so slightly into your palm, and then he’s bending slowly. 

First, it’s a soft, wet nudge of his mouth, your bodies held apart. Then his strong nose bumping into the side of yours, the splendor of inexperience turning to knowing, a nuzzle. Coming in again hungry, with the slick of tongue now, and the deep inhale of shock at first taste. Your breaths rush through one another, and you feel yourself backing away in maybe fear, more likely overwhelm, but his mouth follows your retreat and then his palms are at your waist, tugging you into himself, pressing you tightly to his body with a ragged groan. 

“Your mouth…Your mouth is so beautiful,” he says.

Everything in your lower belly cramps in painful agony, and you scratch at his arms and neck without much strength, trying to climb higher and take more of him into your mouth. Oh, you want this so badly. You want it to be everything you’ve dreamed of so obsessively the past weeks. Nothing else in the world exists except for your two mouths pressed together.

His lips burn a wet path across your cheekbone, sliding to the side of your neck to suckle at your scent gland. “Fuck.” His scraped teeth along the patch of sensitive skin. “Have you had sex before?” The question is gentle, understanding, his tongue tasting your sensitive earlobe, head ducking suddenly to give a sharp bite at your breast. 

“Yes.” His erection is pressed firm at your belly, hot even through his jeans and your sweater. His large body radiates heat. At your back, his palm finds the edge of your top, sliding underneath to make first contact, blistering skin against blistering skin. 

“But not an alpha.” He says it smugly, the bastard. Palm sliding down to your rump, tucking you more tightly against his hard cock. You shake your head at the crook of his neck, fingertips twisting in the back of his hair. Your breath comes in wet little pants that sound too pathetic to bear. 

“It’s going to feel so good,” he promises, rubbing slow circles low on your back with that wide, strong palm. “It’s different. It’s…” That palm slides lower, squeezees the curve of your ass. “It’s ordinary if it isn’t with someone…special. If there’s not the possibility of—” 

You tell him you understand what he’s trying to say. 

“I think it’ll be so good between us,” he finishes. 

At the waist of your skirt, his fingers press between your skin and the stretch of your tights, forcing his large hand into their confines. Your breath skips into his open mouth, panting into one another he cups you between your legs and suddenly all you can focus on is the tight ache there, the nylon soaked obscenely between your thighs. His arm around your back squeezes you tighter to his chest and his fingertips are pushing past lace edge to feel the slick swell of wet cunt. 

“Oh, Joel. Not here,” you moan. “Someone will come in.” He’s circling your clit, so sensitive and so swollen it hurts. You tug him impossibly closer, and he presses you back into the cold stone wall. “We can’t in a church.” Your protestations sound weak even to your own ears as you spread your legs wider for him. 

“I don’t give a fuck.”

He takes your mouth again, sucking deeply, groaning even deeper when he presses inside of you to the first knuckle. “Tight, baby,” he breathes into your neck, his hips slowly grinding into your pelvis. 

He feeds you more, then presses a second finger, holding still for a second, then another. Panting like a rabbit caught in a trap with three of his too thick fingers stuffed in your overstretched cunt. The sound of popping seams moves up your spine. 

“Can feel your little cunt shaking around me. Jesus—” he groans. It’s all mine, whispered into your hair. 

Suddenly, there’s the open and close of a door nearby. And then the sound of someone’s voice calling your names. Joel huddles you further into the dark corner, confined by the protection of his body, his fingers still moving in and out of you, stretching you well enough to burn as he presses as deeply as he can and with the utmost gentleness, pets lightly at the painfully sensitive mouth of your cervix. Humming in satisfaction at the feel of you. 

“Right there?” He hums. 

You’re crying, clutching at him even more tightly. Your name sounds again, being searched for, like a warning. 

“If I fuck you, nobody else ever will.” His voice is so dark it’s menacing. It’s recklessness, verging on a lie. Maybe it’s hope. 

Pressing lightly again, petting, petting, he pulls his fingers back a little, the loud sucking sound of your cunt trying to hold onto him, and you’re coming for him, crying into his neck, sucking on his scent gland so that the taste of him floods your mouth. The sound of a door opening, and you hear him growl at someone to fuck off in a very scary voice, his fingers never ceasing their steady thrust inside of your clenching sex, and the frightened slam of a door. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright. That’s my good girl,” he pets and soothes at you, pressing a kiss to your temple, your eyelids, your mouth again and again.

Part 3;

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

[felassan]

Snippets. 🐺💜

John: "one of the funnier quirks of game dev is you will never remember missions by their real names but instead by the name you called them by for several years of development it will never be 'In Your Heart Shall Burn' for me, it'll always be Setback" [source] / Blair: "there was that awkward period where half of the DA:V ones had "gods" in the title, so discussions were always some variant of: "Did you mean 'Gods Are Back' or 'Gods Are Bad'? I've heard people mention 'Egads! Gods!' but I'm not sure if that's new or a rework."" [source] / Malcolm (in reply to John): "I have one like this in DA:Ve and I can't share it yet because spoilers but I promise you it's delightful" [source]

John: "the only one i can ever remember is 'Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts' and it's because it seems to be the only DAI mission that people constantly reference by name online" [source] / Mary: "It's proper name is "Ham Ball." I put that in the file names, even." [source]

John: "idk how widely it’s been advertised but a reminder we are doing another Veilguard Q&A on Discord this Friday noon Mountain time (so 11 Pacific)" [source] / Malcolm: "Make sure you don't tell them about that one thing that happens in that place, with the guy." [source]

Trick: "BioWare released a new screenshot of Taash! I love how it captures the amazing detail work the character artists did." [source]

Image description on the Taash screenshot in Trick's post of the cap:

"A screenshot of Taash looking off to the side. The lighting is warm like either late afternoon or an interior with a fireplace, and it catches in the gold on Taash's armor and horns. Taash looks pensive or vulnerable -- not the deadpan stare or badass determination we've seen in other shots."

pensive or vulnerable.. ohh Taash. 🥺 Trick!!

User on the screenshot: "Taash looks *completely the fuck over this shit* in a totally exhausted sort of way, here. which is, mind, amazing detail work on the character artists' party!!" / Trick: "You know, it's a spectrum." [source]

Trick on DA:I - "Miss May is amazing in many ways, and especially in finding the balance of sweetness to pain for the Solas scenes. ❤️" [source] ((thankyouuu Miss May!!))

User: "it must be basically impossible to resist putting at least one extra moon around your fantasy world" / John: "if dragon age didn’t already have two you’d better believe I would’ve added another one. sitting next to a dial titled ‘number of moons’ and every so often I add another one. anyways the thing about Satina is- (a large hook drags me offstage)" [source, two, three] ((omg.. THE SECOND MOON shfuehfuehdbdh)

User: "i've been thinking about bellara's pockets and i need to know what her thoughts on cargo pants would be. would she be a fan for the utility." / John: "she wouldn't wear them all the time - she's a firm believer in a distinction between 'work clothes' and 'at home clothes' - but she is always in search of more pockets to carry more things into the field. she'd own at least three pairs" [source]

User: "The next two months are going to feel like the Fade section in DAO 😭" / Dragon Age: "Good thing we have a Veil Jumper to help you out! 💜" [source]

User: "MY SON LOOKS SO CUTE" (re: the new pic of Manfred from today) / Dragon Age: "MY BOY MANFRED 💀💚" [source]

User: "Can we change the armor/gear on our companions?" / Dragon Age: "You can!" [source]

User: "thank you for the food 🙏🙏🙏" / Dragon Age: "Enjoy your meal!" [source]

[livestock-and-bibles]

Things I've Noticed During My Several Rewatches of The Doomstar Requiem

(Lock in, this is gonna be long)

Murderface is the only one out of the group to have a completely obscured face, possession foreshadowing perhaps? Also he lacks the golden streaks on the halo-esque circles behind them. Inch resting... (Not gonna talk too much abt when the scene goes red and the beam behind Murderface is dripping blood because I believe it's already been talked about before by others, and I don't want to include anything in this post that's already been discussed) Also I love how all of their weapons match their instruments

The way Toki doesn't even flinch when he gets alcohol poured on his wound is heartbreaking, likely either because the torture his parents put him through as a kid has given him a wicked pain tolerance or because he's so dissociated, similarly to how he behaves in Dethfam when his parents are around or Dethzazz when he's mentally in the punishment hole (I do believe this sort of catatonic state he's in is what's causing him to seem so much worse off than Abigail—though his untreated diabetes + Magnus targeting him more because of his relation to Dethklok probably also adds to it—he's likely not really eating or taking care of himself)

At first I thought that Magnus was feeding them dog food, but on closer inspection I actually believe it to be human remains. Yeesh. You can see it really looks like muscle fibers, and there's bones, as well as skin that still has hair on it. Magnus Hammersmith they could never make me like you

On the table is the Klokateer from Tracking/Ishnifus and The Challenge!!

I think it's interesting how much Nathan's fantasies look like Toki's! I just think it's neat! They're more similar than they seem :)

This is the most expressive we've ever seen Charles and it makes my heart hurt AUUGHH

The way Nathan licks his lips/teeth after the "How can I be a hero when my dick's as big as a shoe" line. DISGUSTING /affectionate

Does this fan look familiar? He should, because it's Dethklok's son, Fatty Ding Dong!! Good to see he's doing well lol, and his real name is Rick, we can also assume that at LEAST four years have passed since season 1, since in season 1 episode 10, he's said to be 14. Since he has a roommate now, he is likely to be around 18 years old

(Apologies for the low quality screencap I had to nab this from Youtube) I kind of wish that the animators didn't change this original animation for the end of The Fans Are Chatting. I just feel like Nathan pushing away the Klokateers is more symbolically relevant. Nathan is quite literally pushing away the safety and security his avoidance has given him, the hologram disappearing and the fans leaving is a metaphor for the fact that he can no longer keep himself deluded into thinking that everything is fine, he can't hide from the truth anymore

Almost all of the Rock A Roonie Fantasy Camp counsellors came to the Dethklok audition, there's even the depressed blues guy in the background. There's also Sammy Candynose from Snakes 'n Barrels, so I like to think that Pickles told him about the auditions

There's also the guitarist from Get Thee Hence

Toki's shadow!!! The wings!!!

The animals they take the form of match two of the guitars Brendon Small created with Gibson, The Thunderhorse and the Snow Falcon :D

It's super tiny but their smiles :'))!!! Also the way their parts play on different sides when you listen with headphones but then combine at this part makes me so crazy. Not only does Toki challenge Skwisgaar and inspire him to get better, but they're also having fun! Which I can imagine never really happened when he played with Magnus

Probably just an animation error but Skwisgaar is animated as his present day self here. Idk, just thought that was interesting

I think the order of the rest of the band joining in on the background vocals is really interesting, it goes: Skwisgaar, Pickles, Nathan, Murderface. Personally I choose to interpret it as a representation of how long it took each member to warm up to Toki as their rhythm guitarist, Skwisgaar was super fast since he was the one to choose him, Pickles was the one wanting a new guitarist in the first place, Nathan and Magnus seemed to be close, so it would definitely take more time for him to accept Toki as the whole Magnus situation would still feel a little raw, and Murderface is a professional hater so of course it took him the longest

I really love just how soft and content Murderface looks in Toki's fantasy. We all know he has a softer side and I think that either Toki perceives it, or possibly Murderface shows it towards him (Which I can believe because they're often together and they get along pretty well, Toki is probably the person Murderface gets along with the best actually)

I also want to mention that at this part of I Believe, Toki is no longer singing along with the other's background vocals, and is harmonizing with himself, which gets really sad when you realize that it's because this was just Toki remembering this to keep himself sane and he's actually kidnapped, hurt, and alone. Ouch :(

The drunk driver who crashed into the Jomfru brothers is the same guy who crashed into Nathan's second grade class in Dethgov. I guess there's only one drunk driver that exists in the Metalocalypse universe lol

I think we as a fandom need to appreciate Eric Jomfru more. He's such a real one. The way they make you care about him after he's already gone is so evil lol /affectionate

The way the Klokateers join in on this song makes me wonder if perhaps they view each other as brothers, or if there's just like a strong sense of brotherhood between them

The groupie on the left can actually be seen in Fatherklok at the beginning of the episode, as one of the women Skwisgaar has been with, so y'know what? She has valid reasons to be mad honestly

Murderface's pose up top always sends me, sir please calm down, keep it together king

Murderface holding his wrist :(

If you look closely, you can actually see that the Revengeancers are eating Ishnifus. Which is just,, utterly horrifying

In between the shots of the band and the assassin, there's so many inconsistencies in the placement of the characters. For the last two images, I just like to rationalize it as Pickles immediately attempting to run away, then noticing that the rest of the band is still there and being like "Oh shit we're squaring up? Ok I guess". I know it's just so Nathan can be in the center when they use the Dethlights but I just think it's funny

Also in the second to last picture, the way Murderface, typically the most cowardly of the band, isn't looking at the assassin, but instead, is looking worriedly at Toki, makes my heart hurt. I adore their relationship

Murderface is actually sleeping in Nathan's bed here. If you compare different shots of their bedrooms and beds, it's clear that this is Nathan's, you can tell from the striped pillowcase. I'm not gonna talk too much about this, mostly because I want to make a separate post talking about how Murderface is seen more than once sleeping in Nathan's bed when he's hurt/unwell. It's very sweet lol

ANYWAY! Thanks for reading these rambles, I love The Doomstar Requiem so much! I might make a post like this for Army of the Doomstar as well, and also just some analysis posts if I get the confidence lol. Big thanks to @ratskal for watching this a dozen times with me and pointing out things too. (I actually reached the max limit of pictures allowed in a post which is a little funny, I am so normal about this show /lying)

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

Thoughts about the supposed direction Rhaena's storyline is going in Hotd and the apparent Nettles erasure? Disappointing but... I can sort of see where they could take it? Idk... looking at grrm's posts in hindsight kinda makes me even more disappointed if he is as well (he just can't get his adaptations right atp but idk)

Well. Pre-ep7, we're still pending any Rhaena-Sheepstealer bonding, but I'm basically 😑🫠 about the rumors. (I dislike borrowing trouble, I'm not even sure how many of the rumors are true -- actually I'm pretty sure many of these supposed "leaks" are straight up lies -- and yet. Still *disgruntled meh* and *"we're all fine-everyone's fine here" dread*.) Rhaena is one of my more beloved F&B characters (it's the Sansa parallels, I can't help myself), and Nettles has been a super fave since TPATQ and TWOIAF. (Particularly TWOIAF, since the Burned Men fire-witch reveal; heck, I think my little dollmaker is still one of the few fanarts of Nettles in the mountains.)

I mean, sure, I understand that Rhaena's book storyline during the Dance, where she's offpage from basically the start of the war until nearly the end of it, socializing in the Vale and waiting for her egg to hatch, would be difficult to adapt in an action-oriented visuals-oriented television show. (Like Rhaenyra this season sure isn't just catatonically crying from Luke's death until Jace's.) And I'm glad Rhaena's getting more to do, and I'm glad it's directly addressing her feeling slighted and ignored by her family since she doesn't have a dragon. However...

I do not want Rhaena merged into one character with Nettles! I do not want Rhaena to have Sheepstealer and not her hope-for-the-future (doomed hope, and yet) baby dragon Morning, that hatched for her. Also note how pink Morning, worn as a fashion accessory, so suited Rhaena's coquette personality vs her sporty, adventurous twin sister... I mean, I've said before, I understand adaptations can be different, this still wouldn't make HOTD even close to a "loose adaptation".* But I do not want this adaptation to lose Rhaena's personality that I loved.

Or for that matter, to lose Nettles's character, and her importance to the themes and worldbuilding of ASOIAF. (See also.) And her importance to the plot -- but god knows, they're doing all sorts of things with Daemon and Rhaenyra on this show, toxic romance or what have you, who knows if once Daemon reaches his emotional breakthrough or whatever at Harrenhal this season, if they want to backslide him into a cheating plot in S3 while Daemon is again stuck in a castle for months.** Nevertheless, I'd be deeply disappointed to lose scenes like "as well as her dragon, the girl had taken to riding Daemon", or the last morning in Maidenpool scene... and um, you can't really fit Rhaena in there, or if you did, it would certainly put the lie to the ship denialists' "he just treated her like a father, platonically bathing naked together!" (Also the pretty blatant fake S3 leaks including one where Rhaenyra decides Rhaena has betrayed her... are pretty blatantly fake, sorry.)

And then there would be the frankly racist erasure of the one book black character. "Oh but the show made the Velaryons black, so it's not erasing, it's adding more!" No, sorry. (1) I was and am all for adding more racial diversity to the show and especially to Valyrians, but face it, when you take the book's secondary character Velaryons, two who get killed off early and are portrayed as lesser to the "true" Daemon/Rhaenyra marriage, and make them black, you've already done a lot of hinky damage there. (2) What, it's that hard to write three distinct black girls with very different personalities and one from an incredibly different background? I don't see Addam and Alyn getting merged. I don't see Aemond and Daeron getting merged. I don't see Hugh and Ulf getting merged. But I'm not really one to speak here, for this particular discussion I'd point you to @ride-thedragon and @venusintheblindspots-blog and @chrkrose, among others, they have many many posts on this subject in far greater detail and better argued than mine.

OK, so. I still have hope that Nettles -- even if not cast for this season (sorry y'all, that extra is an extra) -- may appear next season, and all this worry will turn out to be a tempest in a teapot. Per last report from the HOTD panel at SDCC, the rumor of Rhaena and Sheepstealer definitely doesn't happen in ep 7, though, yes, there's one episode after. And if it does happen... I'll be strongly disappointed. Deeply, deeply disappointed, and probably far more suspicious of future adaptational changes. But, for me at least, it's not a dealbreaker like GOT S5 was.*** I won't be happy at all about the storyline, but I would like to think the show will remain high quality re themes and character and all. Time will tell, though. Time will definitely tell.

As for GRRM, when his complaints seem to be "wild dragons shouldn't be in the Vale" and "the heraldry with four legs is wrong", well, I struggle to see that he's that disappointed in the adaptational changes. Believe me, I am well used to reading between the lines re GRRM and adaptations, something like the fact that he's not visiting the HOTD writers' room when he's in the UK is nothing. Catch me if at Worldcon or his Oxford lecture in August, GRRM again says that he could write a whole novel about Nettles, or if actually says something about non-Valyrian dragonriders, ok?

*I was just reading up on The Beast (2023) vs Henry James's “The Beast in the Jungle”. lol HOTD doesn't compare. Don't even think it, man.

**You know, this reminds me of how the Dance in F&B is not paced very well for individual characters, they keep going offscreen for months at a time. From shortly after Rhaenyra's crowning to the Fall of KL, Daemon just sits at Harrenhal and occasionally ventures out into the riverlands. From shortly after the Fall of KL until the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon just... sits at Maidenpool and occasionally ventures out into the riverlands (with Nettles). Yeah, obviously a show would need to write more for him to do, he's a main character.

***Thank god HOTD isn't the sort of exploitative shitshow that GOT was. All y'all thinking it was a better adaptation because of your nostalgia goggles (and/or shitty memory) need to actually reread the books (especially AFFC/ADWD) and then submit yourself to the real-world misogynist and homophobic nonsense of S5-6 again, ugh.

[celaenaeiln]

it’s a me a 12 am anon . my girlfriend and i had a discussion abt how odd it is that the fandom views and stereotypes the batfam like

dick is romanian and has more fem related traits and somehow it translates into him being a dumb womanizer or just an annoying mother hen?

jason grew up in the streets, i think its popular to hc him as hispanic? idk but jts odd how ppl do that and also think hes an angry heartless brute

cass gets that “badass asian dragon lady” archetype (tbh im not sure what it is but my gf is passionate abt it so like im confident she’s right)

tim?? somehow ive seen wasian hcs for him but the boy is autistic right? somehow a stereotype i see for him is like “weird and socially awkward but super smart” which . i dont think thats right .

steph is adhd right? i think? also falls into the dumb “waffles r my only personality trait” stereotype and uts just a tiny bit odd dyou see it?

damian (and by extension talia) gets done dirty a lot i think i dont .yeah

nyways sorry its been a while <3 would llve to hear ur thoughts n opinions

hey again!!

Batfam fanon is...not great. And it's things like this that remind me why I kinda avoided this fandom until I couldn't.

Dick

Dick is Romani and is canonically more feminized but the dumb womanizer thing is really getting on my nerves. First of all, he's one of the smartest characters, ever. The comforting thing about Dick is that he never loses.

The reason I love reading Dick Grayson runs is because I can read about his thought process, the way he analyzes, how he single-handedly solves crime like it's nothing.

Batman (1940) Issue #703

Secondly he's not a womanizer. He literally has a mental break down at the thought of dating or even kissing someone he isn't in love with. He's never, ever, ever going to sleep with someone he doesn't have atleast some level of romantic attraction to because he feels it's inherently wrong and canonically frowns upon that behavior when others do it.

The mother hen thing - I gotta admit is kinda accurate. He really loves his family and friends and takes care of them really well. He always makes time to sit and listen to all of them with all their problems and helps them solve it so that's fine.

Jason

The hispanic thing - what the actual heck. Literally why? Jason's "hispanic" fanon background along with Tim's "asian" background comes from a wider problem where society has become disillusioned by the same ethnicity for all characters and wants for diversity and representation in the media. I actually do believe in greater representation but not here. When people make Jason hispanic due to his street backstory, they're attempting to diversify canonically white characters but accidentally reinforcing and perpetrating damaging stereotypes about particular ethnicities. Because his background has drugs, poverty, and crime - you want Jason to be Latino? Can you possibly make things worse? And Jason being an angry heartless brute. Not even adding to the stereotype, Jason was not like that. Jason originally started off as troubled but excited kid. He was happy about fighting criminals and having a home and getting food. As he grew older, the more criminals he fought, he came to a realization that people weren't going to change which is when he started getting more violent and angry with them. He didn't do it because he was some sort of psychopath, it's because he cared a lot about the effects these criminals were having on innocent people. Because he can relate. His anger has nothing to do with his supposed "hispanic" background which is still - ?!?!? Why is this even a thing.

Cass

I don't really have anything to say about Cass being that archetype because tbh I kinda think of her like that too. She's exceptionally good at fighting, she's chinese, and she's the strong and silent type. I'd love to hear more about what your gf thinks about it though.

Tim

Again about Tim being Asian. No where near as damaging as Jason being classified Hispanic but also why? He's asian because he's smart? Because he's good at computers? C'mon the stereotype is boring. Isn't it exciting when you watch a movie or show and the Indian guy isn't an IT specialist? Or when the Chinese girl has neon highlights and loves partying? Or when the Japanese girl is rocking combat boots? The best way to appreciate diversity is actually letting ethnic characters have diverse personalities and talents. On a side note, there is not nearly enough celebration of already canonically diverse characters like Roy's navajo heritage or Jessica Cruz's latina one. Isn't it ironic how we're making racialized characters based on stereotypes because we believe there should be more diversity but ignoring canonically ethnic ones. Literally noone talks about Cass connecting to her Chinese side or the fact that she has dyslexia but we're readily jumping on the Asian Tim Drake train.

Autistic Tim Drake I can see where they're coming from because Tim sometimes has a hard time connecting to people. Like he sometimes misses social cues. And to be fair this theory actually has more credibility than some other ones because I don't know if I'd pass that off as awkwardness. But it also may be due to lack of human interaction. Tim's parents left him alone for long periods of time which he gleefully used to track robin and batman at night. I don't have a problem with this one because Tim may actually be inadvertently written as autistic at times so I guess it wouldn't be that far off canon.

Steph

People with ADHD are typically impulsive, don't focus on one thing for too long, and have a lot of energy which is very much like Steph.

Batgirl (2009) Issue #10

But mostly she just has a sense of humor. Which - like the case with Dick - because of course people can't be multifaceted, fandom generally takes for stupidity.

She's not dumb, she's just fun. I guess the waffle thing is because of human beings' pathological need to classify everything into categories and fanon likes to run with dumb blonde for Stephanie which really ticks me off. People can not be a gloomy avenger and still be smart. She solves her crimes and has a laugh while doing it and still pulling off the -

Batgirl (2009) Issue #12

Damian

Where do I start. What is even happening to him? Not in fandom necessarily but canon. What is DC doing???

[icarus-n-flames]

I posted about this on twitter but I had another idea that came to me. I know we all do love ourselves a clueless Charles, but what about Edwin? Stick with me here, this is inspired by true events.

I want to see a version of Edwin that is so consumed by his love for Charles and the tiny ache of how it might never be, who completely misses the memo that he HAS what he wanted. He overhears Charles talking to a client or someone saying that he couldn’t make a concert or whatever because he had a date with his partner and Edwin is just distraught and distracted. It was fine when no labels were involved, he could pretend that it was fine and he wasn’t bothered but wasn’t a label more serious?

Tired of the mood swings, cagey behavior and solemn looks, Charles eventually confronts him. Immediately Edwin makes a snide remark about how Charles must be quite busy with Crystal and whatever Charles thinks is happening they can discuss it later.

Charles is proper confused at this point and is like “Did she need something? Why would I be busy with Crystal?”

And at this point Edwin is trying very hard to look unbothered while flipping through a tome on idk cryptid feeding habits and mating rituals. “Well, she is your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

Now Charles is even more confused. His boyfriend is sitting here saying he’s dating someone else. For a minute he’s fairly certain he’s being accused of cheating but he remains calm. “Mate, that’s been over for like a year. What are you on about?”

Edwin honestly feels like he wants the earth to swallow him whole because not only is Charles dating someone, it’s someone he doesn’t even know. Was Charles worried about him meeting them? Was he trying to spare his feelings? He sets the book down, adjusting his cuff that does not need it before saying as nonchalantly as he can. “I heard you mention a partner the other day is all.”

“I mean yeh, you. What about it?”

Edwin can’t help but sigh and stand from the desk at this point. “Not that kind of partner Charles, don’t be daft. You’re courting someone, dating…”

At this point Charles can’t be sure if he’s frustrated or amused. He places a hand to one of Edwin’s shoulders, keeping him from storming off somewhere. He says as slowly as he possibly can, making sure he looks Edwin right in the eyes. “I was talking about you.”

Edwin freezes because wait, had he really said that and then he just blurts the loudest, most confused “WHAT?!” He’s been tearing himself to shreds inside for MONTHS.

“We’ve been dating for like…6 months, Edwin, what do you mean “what?” and now they’re both confused because somewhere along the line Charles thought he was being very clear about his intentions but Edwin didn’t realize anything had changed. He’d thought everything was normal. As much as he was conscious about Charles’ touches he always told himself he was in denial and Charles thought Edwin was just a old fashioned sort and would need a lot of time if not an eternity of time to really progress their relationship beyond a the barest of kinship and occasional flirting and hand holding.

No idea exactly how the initial conversation went that made Charles like “Bet, we’re dating now” and Edwin just miss it entirely. If someone has any ideas feel free to share lmaooo.

[pippin-katz]

Can we appreciate for a moment how bold Alex is as a person?

Idk but something about how he asks makes my brain inch.

I feel like most people would be too shy to ask about that, or be worried they would be coming across narcissistic. Or that this question usually doesn’t come up between couples until later into their relationship or not at all?

Like in the book, the morning after the storming of Kensington Palace, they’re discussing their future together. Henry brings up being worried that their relationship will keep ruining Alex’s career in politics. Alex talks about how he knows that it will be complicated and messy, but that he thinks they could do it.

Henry asks, “How long have you be thinking about this?” (them being together for the long run and eventually going public, basically an indirect way of asking when he fell in love with him whether he meant to ask that or not)

Alex answers that he’d been consciously thinking about it since the DNC, but that he’d been subconsciously thinking about it and in denial since Henry first kissed him on New Year’s. Henry is surprised, and he returns the question, asking “What about you?”

If you’ve not read the book, you’ve probably seen this quote used in edits, and this is the context for it. Henry says, “What about me? Christ Alex. The whole bloody time.”

Here’s the rest of that conversation just because it’s the parallel of the one they have in the movie.

Alex: “The whole time?”

Henry: “Since the Olympics.”

Alex: “The Olympics? But that’s, that’s like-”

Henry: “Yes, Alex, the day we met, nothing gets past you, does it? ‘What about you’ he says as if he doesn’t know-”

So you can see the parallel with the scene in Alex’s room, but how the question came up in a different way that was unintentional. The question was “how long have you been thinking about a future together?”; when Alex says since they first kissed, Henry is surprised and says that’s incredible, because that’s far longer than he was expecting.

His reaction is what prompts Alex to return the question, which leads to Henry saying since they first met, which definitely shocks Alex. But neither of them literally asked, “When did you fall in love with me?”

That’s just a bold thing to ask!

I’ve seen tons of examples of couples in real life learning that their partner had feelings for them way longer than they expected, and being surprised because it doesn’t really get brought up?

When you first get together, you’re both focused on your feelings now. You both like each other now, and that’s the important thing. That topic is one that I feel has to be relevant to whatever you’re doing/talking about in the moment to be brought up. Like if you were playing some sort of party game, or conversing with other couples and they asked.

Again, I could be completely wrong, but this is just something I have observed.

Anyway, there’s just something satisfying about Alex asking Henry so directly when he started being attracted to him. Like his curiosity had been eating him alive (lol) and he couldn’t help it, and he has the confidence to actually ask.

[monstersinthecosmos]

Do you think Marius still loves Armand in the last books? Does he want Armand to return to him? Marius seemed to have left him in the past

The short answer is YEAH OF COUSRE HE LOVES ARMAND TO DEATH but let’s talk about this for a minute!

The question of whether or not Marius loves him is the easier one to answer. Armand is one of the great loves of Marius’s life! In the beginning of TVA (when he’s just spent however much time thinking Armand is dead) he’s a DISHEVELED MESS! And at the beginning of B&G he’s super lonely and isolated and seems worried about stuff he’s done recently and people in his life being mad at him. (Benji & Sybelle Incident? Something else?) I think when you look at a vampire like Marius, it’s remarkable that he makes it 2000 years only turning THREE fledglings (not counting when we get to B+S and Viktor bc that gets into like, vampire favors and isn’t really for himself LOL), vs a character like Lestat who made 3 fledglings in his first 11 years. These are the great loves of Marius’s life and not decisions he made lightly! And while I think we can (and have) sort of untangled selfish vs. selfless love in Marius’s life, I think it’s really important that 500 years later he couldn’t forgive Santino. Is that on his own behalf alone or on Armand’s? There’s a lot of unpack but! He loves Armand! He does!!!!!

But anyway on the topic of returning to each other;

I think their last conversation in BCtu sort of opens a door that they’re going to speak to each and work things out. Canonically, that’s all the information we get. We also never explicitly get information about like, what exactly is wrong between them presently. We know that

they had a big fight at the end of TVA but that they calmed down

Armand has been afraid of Marius because he's scared that Marius doesn't still love him like he used to

in ROA Marius said he had the savage & ignorant soul of a child.

I always assume there's just 500 years of tension and conversations they've avoided, but we also never get a confirmation that they HAVEN'T had these conversations off screen anyway. So canonically, all we know is that they just had a traumatic experience and want to talk to each other.

Also canonically, they’re making another attempt at Vampire Commune and we don’t have an answer of like, will it stick this time, will it dissolve like Night Island, is it sustainable AT ALL to have a small group of the elite making rules and holding dominion over an entire culture???????? Reader’s choice lol.

But it leaves a question of like, what does returning to each other look like in this setup—they’re in touch now, they can find each other, they have cell phones, Armand can come and go at the Château as needed, Marius has a room at Trinity Gate, etc. Their relationship is civil and functional at this point. And does “returning” mean to be exclusive companions and to fuck off? Will Marius leave Court? Will Armand come and stay more often?  Idk ! 

These are questions that have 100 different answers because it’s all headcanon, but, what we know by the end of the series is that they’ve gone through something traumatic and Armand and Marius are going to talk to each other. What is that conversation about? What is the result? We don’t know. Armand is letting his FEELINGS THE FUCK OUT in this book as if he's had therapy, and Marius says he thinks Armand is ready to open his heart, if that gives us any clues! But does opening his heart mean "I am feeling vulnerable and brave to tell you how I feel because I almost lost you" or "I'm gonna read you the fuckin riot act because I did that to Lestat as well" ? lol Either way the thing here is that it's ARMAND'S decision and not about whether or not Marius left him in the past.

I think something that often goes overlooked in character discussions is their inherent inhumanity, and I really dislike the “thEyRe MonStErs” easy out of a lot of analyses, because it’s more than that. The entire purpose of the series and the reason the series was unique is that built a world where they’re MORE THAN. It’s not about simply being a monster—there’s nothing simple about it. And not being human doesn’t mean it’s all negative and all evil. What it means is that it’s Extra. They feel things on such a deeper level than we do, their brains function differently, and they’re immortal. They have all the time in the world to forgive each other when they want to, and they’re social creatures who want companions! The older you are, the scarier it is! It’s horror! Like even Marius’s relationship with Mael is so fucking special because like, as much as they put each other off, it’s like, someone they each still have, that’s been constant, and the world would look so different without them.

It just reminded me of this line in Six Feet Under (sorry I’m obsessed, I think everything always comes back to SFU for me LOL) but when Brenda says she used to think as she got older that she’d have more people in her life and that the opposite was true. So anyway for Marius like, regardless of if we want to get into selfish/selfless, Armand is one of the most important people in his life, and has been around for a quarter of Marius’s life, and nothing would be the same if Armand wasn’t around. 

And without the distraction of The Parents in the modern age I wonder if he’s like especially fragile and traumatized about losing people? Is he still traumatized by losing Pandora? And losing Armand the first time? It’s great that they have cell phones and a community now so no one gets too far from each other, but gosh.  

I don’t know what returning to each other looks like, as far as where canon left. Like, does the Château collapse? Is Daniel with them? Asking if Marius wants it is like, yeah maybe he would want Armand around Court more for moral support. And maybe if he decides to step away, and get space, maybe he would want Armand there with him as a safe place to land. When the Court inevitably collapses, will he want someone around? 

In the past, Marius tended to isolate himself in times of stress; is he still like that? Has the loss of The Parents changed this for him? Will Daniel and Armand allow him to isolate? Idk ! !!! 

But anyway sorry I’m rambling but my point about not being human and about being Extra is that there are a lot of parts in the series where vampires have a relationship or forgive each other even after they’ve deeply hurt each other or committed atrocities. Louis and Armand come to mind, so do Louis and Lestat, David and Lestat, Pandora and Santino. Even Marius calming down enough to be in his situationship with Avicus and sorta metamour to Mael. They are not human, they are capable of forgiveness. There are atrocities that humans are capable of never forgiving because we don’t have time to get over it. How can we even know how much time it takes to heal a grudge if we don’t live long enough to test it?

Even knowing that, 500 years still wasn’t enough to forgive Santino for what he did to them. Like sure if we wanna dunk on Marius and remind ourselves that he’s an arrogant self-centered jerk sometimes, and we could say that he’s mad at Santino for what he did to MARIUS—it’s not just the ego this time. He took Armand. He separated Marius and Armand. He destroyed their home. And even if they cooperated a few times in the 20th century, by the time B&G happens, he's been able to read TVA and knows what happened, what Santino did to him, what he did to the boys. (Like, did Marius read TVA? Did Armand ever tell him this privately? We don't know! But we do know that this is now been published for EVERYONE to read which is probably re-traumatizing for everyone involved and now everyone knows hajkgsdl)

So anyway, like. I know this has kinda been a non-answer because we’re talking about stuff that didn’t happen in canon and everything past BCtu is going to be our own headcanons. But I can say: Yes, Marius loves Armand deeply, and vampires are capable of incredible levels of empathy and forgiveness for each other, because their lives are too long and bleak and painful not to.

As to the idea that Marius left him in the past, personally I don’t agree! 

Marius not rescuing Armand from the cult is often misunderstood in fandom, but I could see why someone would point to that as a clue that Marius has left him in the past. It’s not that simple, though. Marius is too injured to save him, doesn’t even know if he’s alive,  and by the time he finally finds Armand he finds the cult situation too complicated to navigate. Don’t forget that Marius has pretty severe religious trauma, and is one of the characters who was turned against his will. By a cult!!! So to see Armand thriving with a cult is so triggering and disappointing, and I don’t think he’s strong enough to risk being rejected if he goes to rescue Armand only to learn he no longer wishes to be rescued. 

I would say that’s very unlike leaving him in the past, it’s more like seeing him as another one that got away. 

And then when they reunite in QOTD it’s during another extremely traumatic event in Marius’s life—we don’t know details about how everyone left Night Island or where everyone went, but what we DO know is that Marius lost The Parents—>Armand attempts suicide about a decade later—>Marius commits the big B+S Fuckup shortly after learning Armand is okay—>Marius fucks off to Scandinavia with Daniel to lick his wounds because everyone’s mad at him. 

VC skips around a LOT, and there’s so much that we don’t learn about, so much that happens between books and off screen. Like, we don’t KNOW how Marius wound up with Daniel. We don’t know exactly how much longer he stuck around in New Orleans after TVA, we don’t know what he and Armand were gonna talk about in BCtu before the series ended. And that’s the enD oF IT THERE’S NOTHING ELSE!

Marius truly doesn’t leave anything in the past, that’s the thing about him.

He’s still traumatized by the way he was turned. He still tries to sculpt his identity around what his life was as a Roman. He committed to the burden of The Parents for 2000 years, even when he was overwhelmed and wished he could stop. He spends centuries painting Pandora’s face over and over and over when he can’t find her. He still thinks Mael is a bumbling redneck from the woods. He still wanted Santino killed, even when they’d been civil with each other in QOTD and up to TVA.

And in BCtu when he’s living at Court he’s like, trying to embrace himself, allowing himself to be a weirdo because he’s around his own kind now. HE QUITS PANTS, YOU KNOW WHAT? HE ALWAYS HATED PANTS, LET’S NOT. 

I think even as humans there are so many things that shape us forever, that we never really move past. Even when we leave something in the past, it shapes us, it allows us to leave it in the past. People and events in our lives carve into us, whether we like it or not!!! And part of the horror of immortality is that it goes on, and on, and on, and on, your physical body gets hard and cold and monstrous, more and more uncanny, physically impervious, but their BRAINS AND HEARTS ARE STILL TENDER!! 

So no, no, I really don’t think Marius ever left Armand in the past. I think he left him to the cult because he thought Armand wanted it, I also think he gave Armand space after a disastrous fuckup. When he goes to speak to him at the end, he says it like ARMAND is the one that’s ready. He’s waiting for Armand! Marius was there the whole time, ready to be called upon if someone needs him! He lives to serve! 

Armand was his baby and one of the great loves of his life, the first (and only) fledgling he made because he truly wanted to. Marius loves him so much!!! 

[synesindri]

piecing through stuff from billy gibson's death scene, particularly with an eye to guessing how much of an idea he had of what was coming

relevant billy gibson background: machiavellian approach to self-preservation, has done metaphorical backstabbing, is the one who initially proposed the mutiny idea for pragmatic "there are too many guys out here" reasons, has been instrumental in the mutiny (albeit less visibly and less executively than hickey and tozer). not noting any of this to be accusatory, just pointing out that throwing people under the bus for his own sake is something he has been repeatedly willing to do. this way of thinking is familiar to him, independent of his being in cahoots with other, more physically violent characters, so it probably wouldn't surprise him at least in theory that one might kill a sick person under such extreme circumstances, whether or not he'd ever expect that to happen to him

when hickey asks goodsir if gibson can haul tomorrow, billy's attention snaps up like he is aware this is Important And Meaningful Information — perhaps more important and meaningful information than his own physical deterioration and imminent worse suffering/death

when goodsir says he doubts it, billy insists to hickey that he can. again, he probably knows not being able to haul is going to be more important to hickey's next actions than how billy is feeling

when hickey gets up, billy clings to his sleeve (albeit without much conviction...he is extremely listless in this scene but he was able to shuffle his way into the tent such that i think he probably could have made a better grab if the clinging was intended to be a real effort to bodily keep hickey from leaving. symbolic gesture)

when hickey is out getting the knife, we get a quick shot of tozer intensely watching hickey walking like he is aware some shit is about to go down

dialogue while hickey is fetching the knife: billy: "i wouldn't either, doctor." goodsir: "what's that, mr gibson?" billy: "comfort us. any of us. we're..." — this seems most probably to be about goodsir's blunt bedside manner explaining to billy what is going to happen as the scurvy progresses, but it could also plausibly be about hickey leaving after hearing the can't-haul-anymore diagnosis. this is interesting to me because in a way this is billy doing sort of a kindness for goodsir by effectively telling him he understands why he wouldn't be nicer to him (given that niceness is pretty characteristic of goodsir with his patients to this point), while also being an admission that billy himself does not regard this to be a situation in which he would be nice either...comfort doesn't really enter into it in his mind anymore (although that he brought it up at all suggests that he is probably thinking about being comforted, even while understanding why that is not happening)

billy does not seem on edge and is not looking toward the entrance to the tent when hickey is gone; if he is expecting to be killed, he probably either does not expect it to happen right then, or is so fine with it that he isn't worried about it. i'm inclined to go with the former (if he expected to be killed at all) given his feeble attempt from like two seconds ago to convince hickey that he can still haul...doesn't seem like a guy who is at "please just put me out of my misery" quite yet to me but who knows

my guess is that there had been at least one mutineer planning session including hickey, tozer, and gibson in which the eventuality of guys being too sick to haul was discussed and it was decided that this would result in culling them in some way. whether the specifics of that were addressed between the three of them (or any subset thereof), and which specifics were addressed if any, is pretty unclear to me — hickey seems like he had decided how this would work, and tozer seemed like he might have either known or guessed, but whether it was ever discussed and in how much detail and between which people...idk

i do not think this scene suggests that billy expected to be killed precisely when he was, but it does seem to suggest that he was not anticipating a lot of long-term care. he also doesn't seem to take this personally; people being unable to haul seems like an eventuality that there were plans about how to address in the abstract, and he just happened to be the first of them to reach that point. he's not expecting special treatment; he doesn't seem to really believe in special treatment for any of them anymore by this point, extended from anyone to anyone. this is very clearly not how he wants things to be progressing for him, but i don't think he really acts as if any of it is unfair either. he does not seem to me to be particularly frightened of his illness; he does not seem frightened of hickey; he seems frightened of having unluckily reached a possibly-preestablished tipping point of having become a hindrance to the group

[azure-arsonist]

Ok so here's the thing about dabi dying bc I have thoughts I've had thoughts for a while

1 it's just a poor narrative choice, and better blogs have discussed that at length so I won't get into that.

2 dabi doesn't want to die. I mean, he does, but it's more complicated than that.

He has a lot of big, overwhelming, literally all consuming feelings, and he'd like to not feel them, and dying is... a way to do that, sure, but wanting to die is like a secondary want. It's a (BAD VERY BAD I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH) solution to problems that otherwise don't seem to have one. Dabis's problems, his real problems, is that he felt unimportant, unloved, and unwanted and he felt like he had no purpose because he was a "failure," and even his horrific death didn't matter.

He's doing this because he thinks murder suicide achieves what he actually wants which is attention and validation and to be important to his family for once. Hes an emotionally neglected kid who wants to finally matter to people and he thinks the only way he can do that is by being a problem. He's also very hurt, and wanting to hurt somebody that hurt you is a very normal human reaction. It's not the BEST reaction, but it makes total sense for dabi.

3 Dabi isn't the most reliable narrator when it comes to his wants and needs because he's not emotionally mature or intelligent enough to really know what he wants/feels, much less articulate it. It's kind of like being passive-aggressive in that you can't just take what's said at face value. You kind of need to read into the subtext of his words/actions and take what he says with a grain of salt.

4 idk man I don't think having the suicidal character get their happy ending via suicide is like....good like it sort of misses the point. It doesn't seem like horikoshi will do that, but if he does that, he'd kind of undermine himself, lmao.

[moonshynecybin]

#he really does cut people out cold shoulder them with no discussion huh.... fascinating man......#invisible transgressions remembered forever at arms length#he is. i think. pathologically nonconfrontational. idk even with the sepang stuff.#like he doesnt look at marc AT ALL only performs to the press. same with argentina he sends uccio.... <- *eye* have a theory that vale on his factory settings is actually quite a desperate people-pleaser. not necessarily in a "i need others to approve of me" way (though that too) but in a "i need for others to cheer for me" (to try and explain what i mean better, he's not doing anything just to get the approval but he wants to feel approved/supported for whatever he's doing. different catalysts for action, same need). that's why he can play the crowd so well. and sepang - i think it was genuinely a protracted breakdown caused by vale realizing he's not superhuman anymore and his lead slipping and compounded by the anniversary of the worst loss he's suffered in his life

post about graziano here, jorge confrontation here

like the thing about vale is. well we dont personally know him. so outside of stuff people close to him tell us, we only see the side of him he wants to show the press, which is still him, just more of a performance, i think. its already been discussed AT LENGTHHH that he loves to do this sort of performance and is just. generally very good at being a celebrity. and i think its an extension of his PR deftness that when jorge comes at him he just laughs and looks at his audience. he ropes them into a private joke, like can you believe this guy? which jorge (who takes to confrontation like a duck to water) HATES so bad. its a very effective deflection tactic. fr the easiest way to seem like the bad guy is to treat an argument like it is worthy of your attention. so he meep-meep roadrunner court jesters his way through off track conflict for the majority of his career. and yes he makes enemies and they tell US that he is being cold and prickly and treating them differently. but crucially. he does not seem anything other than a Chill Dude in front of the cameras. until well. sepang lol.

so yes! i think he is invested in controlling these narratives and good at it to boot. but!!!! where it gets crazy is when you get to the personal arenas. like the people he loves that he is actually invested in. where his feelings are on the line fr.

like for other (professional) conflicts he gets over it!! but not with his dad and not with marc. and part of the marc stuff is the ego involved (theyre having a GOAT-off) and the professional stakes, as ive discussed. BUT. i think he doesnt get over these two because. well. because they really really hurt his feelings, i think. like he's said in the past that he's been able to get over the rivalries he has with other racers (like biaggi) bc they WERENT friends before so he didnt gaf when it got nasty. but. he still. REALLY cares with marc. (and of course with his parents divorce. like yeah that makes sense) so i actually think its very telling that he isnt over sepang. and that he didnt look at marc at all whenever they had their epic divorce moments (sepang press conference, postrace argentina 2018) rosquez would be less real if he could just move on lol. like it is a divorce to them both for REAL. so vale is going to handle it the same way he did with his parents and quietly cut marc out while making it. VERY clear. that marc is no longer one of the people that he holds within the select bubble that gets to see vale without all of his press trappings.

[thefandomenchantress]

youre so real bro i think i almost cried during the episode😭😭 im also like completely stuck, because like im in huge denial that uts ace for obvious reasons, and hust. eden makes so much SENSE. but im not sure if she actually does or if its just me being biased so im super conflicted. ofc ill always believe in eden culprit or third party yntil its WITHOUT A DOUBT ace, and probably even then ill still deny it.

ive been trying to come to terms with it but man, this has just hit me oht of left field and i was so unprepared for him to be on the chopping block this early.

and yeahh, that one signular acevid interaction was my one win😭 lowkey hoping they get some more interactions throughout this trial, considering david has been the inly person to defend ace even slightly. as for acevi..yeah, im soo...it was definitely a moment! i think now i defintiely prefer them as a tragedy type relationship, especially on aces part.

I feel so bad for him thi bro he hasnt caught a break all chapter??

Chapter 2 Episode 14 Spoilers! Plus Eden/Ace Culprit discussion.

Pretty much agree with allllll of this. Eden makes more sense as a culprit to me personally, both narratively and logically, but I’m getting really scared for Ace. I was so sure the logic of him taking the tape didn’t make sense that I sorta figured everything else didn’t matter, but now the narrative is treating it like it would possibly make sense so I’m at a loss…Why would he even grab the tape?? I’ve heard every counter-argument known to man and still don’t think any of them explain it…I really wanna ramble about it here but idk if people want to see me do that again, haha. But I guess one thing I will say is that Teruko said they can’t assume the culprit worked logically, so maybe the reason will be that he took it just…because, with no real reason. That would be a little unsatisfying, but I genuinely don’t think any explanation makes sense. (Must contain rant ahhhh—)

As for Acevid, I can at least take comfort in the fact that if Ace actually manages to hold his ground for forty-five minutes, it’s probably because David (plus maybe Levi) is doing most of the talking. Like Min barely lasted twenty minutes, so Ace doubling that all by himself would be very funny and ironic for a ‘dumb’ character to do, but also kinda unlikely.

Ace seems like the type to definitely start falling apart mentally and breaking down reeeeally fast if he’s actually the culprit, so if he is the culprit I’m surprised he’s even made it this far into the trial without any major outbursts not surrounding the almost murder. He was even kinda chill (for his standards) about the Levi debacle, not much yelling at all. But all this is to say if he’s the culprit and Teruko starts grilling him for answers…yeeeeeeah my guess is he’ll end up just panicking or yelling while someone else tries to help or bring up counter-arguments. If he’s not the culprit, maybe he’ll have enough left in him to make some sort of defense by himself (I personally think Levi will try to help either way, though).

This man can indeed not catch a break. After going to a school he didn’t even want to attend, he was kidnapped, put in a killing game, had the person he thought was his friend betray him, almost got murdered, and now is getting blamed for a different murder because he had the misfortune of being almost murdered. Sure, he’s not blameless in it all, but it still really sucks for him. I’m half-expecting him to be revealed to have a version of Teruko-luck down the line if he survives haha.