#okay that’s enough original posts for the day

[edwinspaynes]

Do you think there is a way to ethically watch Sandman and Good Omens? What about Dead Boy Detectives?

Andddd this was why I originally turned off anons. I knew this was coming eventually, but I guess I'll respond just this once so everyone knows where I stand.

I don't love that I feel the need to disclose this, but I have personally experienced grooming and sexual assault in the past. So this post is coming from someone who has Been There and understands the importance of supporting victims. I also love all of the efforts NG-related fandoms have been putting into raising money for sexual assault charities. It's wonderful to see people rallying behind the survivors and supporting them so vocally.

- DEAD BOY DETECTIVES: NOT A GAIMAN WORK

I do not think that there is a world where Dead Boy Detectives would be unethical to stream. It has virtually nothing to do with Neil Gaiman, by his own admission, and is the brain-child of Steve Yockey.

Besides the first chapter where Charles and Edwin were introduced (with no development), he didn't even write the comics! Several artists did, including Toby Litt and Mark Buckingham - whose run the show is based on and who the sprites are named after.

Yockey was the sole person to pitch DBDA to Warner Brothers. Gaiman did not do that.

Streaming Dead Boy Detectives primarily supports its writers, cast, and crew - Gaiman, who only wrote 2 scenes, is getting essentially nothing in terms of royalties.

Someone on Twitter did a really good job of unpacking why Dead Boy Detectives shouldn't be lumped in with Gaiman stuff - I'll link it here.

But this leads me to the next section.

- HANDLING GOOD OMENS AND SANDMAN

I think that there are a lot of valid reactions to the way people handle the consumption of Gaiman's shows after what he has done.

Some people are going to be unable to stomach anything he has written, and that is okay. Others whose lives have been massively impacted by his work aren't going to be able to let go since - and I know people like to deny this, but it's true - the art you love more than love itself is going to have a serious material impact on your personality.

Both of these approaches are alright! The only incorrect approach is to harass those who disagree with your personal choices.

It also is, in my opinion, Bad to give Gaiman money. Purchasing his books and buying Good Omens official merch puts cash in his pocket.

Streaming the shows, though, is a little more nuanced to me.

I'm going to use Good Omens as an example here. I personally will not be continuing with Good Omens. It gives me a Yucky Feeling. I may one day change my mind and stream a pirated version, but I don't think so.

However, I don't think Sheen and Tenant's fans are wrong to stream it in support of the actors who have brought their favourite characters to life.

But this leads me into my next point, and the point that will probably get me Canceled.

- THE IMPACT OF SHOWS ON PEOPLE

The way that people handle their favourite shows post-allegations is going to depend on the impact that the show had on their life.

I like Good Omens. It's a fun show. I enjoyed it while watching it, and think (see: thought) positively of it. But it had no real deep impact on my life - it's not part of me. When I look at Good Omens now, I see Gaiman's work above the finished product. It puts a sour taste in my mouth.

But in a hypothetical world, if Dead Boy Detectives were a Gaiman production? I have the self-awareness to know that I probably would still stream it to support the cast and crew. I am attached enough to it that I think I would divorce it entirely from Gaiman (if he were the creator, which he is not.) My point is that other people who are still streaming Sandman and GO probably don't look at it and see Gaiman. They see something that they have absorbed into themselves.

The part that's going to get me canceled is that if George cameos in Sandman, I will stream that one (1) episode to support George Rexstrew (Edwin Payne's actor). This is because Edwin has had a material impact on my life (hilariously, because I am a sexual violence survivor who did not get justice, and Edwin did not get justice for his murder and fights for that.) I feel that Edwin is part of me and my life, because Edwin (and George's work as Edwin) has made me feel less alone.

A lot of people feel that way about Crowley and Aziraphale.

I think that asking people to ditch a show, characters, and performers that have had a deep impact on their lives is unfair to them. Like, yes, Neil Gaiman is a bag of shit! Anyone who defends him is also a bag of shit! But I don't think that it's fair to stop people from supporting works that have had big material impacts on their own lives.

- HOW TO PROCEED

TL;DR

My personal ideal outcome here would be:

Wrap up Good Omens with the 90-minute movie and nothing else.

Wrap up Sandman with season 2, and do not renew.

Revive Dead Boy Detectives WITH THE CAVEAT that Gaiman gets his name removed from it, even if he currently isn't making much money off it. Take the Sandman characters and references from DBDA and let it become its own standalone thing.

Cancel all future Gaiman productions and never hire him to work on television or anything else again.

Let Gaiman's career die entirely and let him fade into obscurity.

Arrest Gaiman, which will never happen but it should.

I think people should:

Stop giving Neil Gaiman money through books or merch.

Make their own decisions about whether or not to officially stream the shows in support of the actors and crew members who have worked hard on it.

Not harass anyone for either their decision to stream the show, not stream the show, or stream a pirated version of the show.

Engage as much as they want with fandom and fanworks, as they are divorced from the source material's creator.

Vocally speak up against Neil Gaiman. Amplify the voices of the survivors, and don't let fear for the future of your show get in the way of that. At the end of the day, real women were put through the most traumatic and horrifying experience of their lives, and that's what matters most.

[marscardigan]

through the valley, part iv

ellie williams x reader

through the valley masterlist

summary: what if Joel didn’t lie? what if there was more people immune? more people like ellie? more people like you?

word count: 9.3k

warnings: this fic doesn’t follow the original plot from tlou part II. canon typical violence. blood and murderer. mentions of past trauma. mel wasn’t pregnant on this fic!!

The room was dim, lit only by the warm flicker of the lantern on the floor. A day passed and Ellie's wound was slowly healing. You had pulled your bag closer, laying out what little medical supplies you had.

“Sit still,” you murmured, dipping a cloth into the warm water you'd boiled earlier. Ellie huffed, “Yeah, yeah, I’m trying. It’s not exactly fun having someone dig into your skin, y’know?”

You rolled your eyes at her grumbling, but didn’t reply. Your hands worked carefully, pressing the cloth to clean the wound on her arm. The cold seemed to hug your body, especially after giving her your shirt to stop the bleeding. Ellie demanded you to grab her jacket, but you insisted not to.

"You’re good with the bow," she said, changing the subject. "Real quiet, real precise."

"It’s what I was taught," you replied. "Silence was survival. Noise meant death. Guns... they’re loud. They draw attention."

Ellie chuckled dryly. "Well, sometimes loud works. Makes a statement."

You smirked, despite yourself. "Yeah, like nearly getting yourself killed?" She rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of amusement in them. "You’re not gonna let that go, are you?"

"Not anytime soon."

As you leaned forward to grab the bandage, your hair shifted, rising just enough to expose the lines there—pale scars etched deeply into your skin, faintly illuminated by the lantern’s glow.

Ellie froze. She wasn’t sure what she was looking at first, but her gaze followed the jagged marks, tracing their cruel paths. They were deliberate, too even to be accidental. Her breath hitched softly, though she quickly masked it. You didn’t notice, being too focused on her wound. Carefully wrapping the bandage, securing it tightly before finally sitting back.

“There,” you said softly, inspecting your work. “It’ll hold for now.”

She nodded, but her attention wasn’t on her injury. Her gaze lingered on your back. So many questions flooded her head, but she swallowed them all. You had that same guarded look you always carried—like the weight of the world was pressing down on you. She wasn’t about to add to it.

“You okay?” you asked, turning to look at her.

Ellie snapped out of her thoughts, forcing a shrug. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“Then you should get some sleep,” you said, standing to pack away the supplies.

Ellie shifted, watching you move. Her eyes flickering to your back again as you knelt to stow the med kit. The scars disappeared beneath your hair, but their image was already burned in her mind.

“Hey,” Ellie said suddenly, her voice soft.

You stilled, glancing over your shoulder. “What?”

She opened her mouth, hesitating, "After we're done with this, do you think about going back?"

You stopped mid-stroke, the question hitting like a sudden gust of wind. “Back to Haven?” Ellie nodded. Your head started racing, sensing a gut-wrenching feeling. Before, you were sure about your return to the island, but now you left, you never felt more alive and free. "I don't know, I-I don't think so. It feels wrong to go back"

“But you’re thinking about it,” she pressed. The words struck a nerve. She wasn’t wrong. You didn't like how she could read your mind like an open book. She did it with such an ease, that seemed easy, it made you feel weak.

You grabbed your machete and moved toward the window, taking up your post to keep watch. Behind you, Ellie settled into the mattress, her brow furrowed as she stared at the lantern. She couldn’t shake the image of your scars—their jagged edges, the story they told without words.

As the night stretched on, you sat by the window, gripping the machete tightly. The silence of the room felt heavier than usual, weighed down by what Ellie had said. You could feel her eyes on you, her curiosity peeking out. Something shifted between the two of you, you knew it, how she looked at you differently from hours ago. Was it the mural? Did she connect the dots? You weren't ready to speak about your mother, yet.

“Why are you so hell-bent on finding Abby?” you asked, your tone softer than you intended. Ellie's fingers tightened on the bandage. For a moment, you thought she wouldn’t answer. Then, with a sigh, she leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees.

"She took somethin' from me," Ellie said, her tone clipped but trembling under the surface. "Somethin' I can’t get back. And I need her to pay for it." Her words hung heavy in the air, raw and seething with a kind of pain you knew all too well.

“And when it’s done?” you asked carefully, your gaze steady on her. “What happens then?”

Ellie’s jaw tightened, and she stared at the ground as if it might hold the answer she didn’t have. “I don’t know,” she muttered finally. “Maybe... maybe things will feel quieter.”

You didn't push further. She finally got some sleep, and you kept watch.

The rain hadn’t let up since you left the building, the storm hammering against the roof of the aquarium as you and Ellie crept through the loading bay. The redhead had been quiet ever since the man in the warehouse coughed up the information. You weren’t sure what she’d done to make him talk, and honestly, you didn’t want to know. But his words were clear: two of the people she was looking for were holed up at the aquarium, waiting for this girl to return. After that, Ellie’s determination had only hardened. She grabbed a map, charted the route, and didn’t look back. You followed her without question, even as the storm worsened. Every step felt heavier, every sound amplified by the pounding rain and your own hammering heart.

Ellie moved with purpose, her grip on her knife white-knuckled. You followed close behind, clutching your bow, the string taut between your fingers. The air inside was thick, shadows loomed in the dimly lit space, and the only sound was the distant hum of water filtering through tanks. Ellie motioned for you to stay low, her green eyes sharp and determined.

“You hear that?” she whispered, barely audible over the storm outside. You nodded. Voices. Two of them. A man and a woman, talking somewhere deeper inside the aquarium. Ellie’s jaw clenched. “That’s them.” You didn’t need to ask how she knew. The venom in her voice told you everything.

Together, you moved through the maze of hallways, your footsteps silent against the slick floors. The voices grew louder, clearer.

“I still think we should’ve left already,” the man—Owen, you assumed—was saying.

“And go where?” the woman snapped back. “We’ve got everything we need here. Abby will come back. She always does.”

Ellie’s breathing quickened, her shoulders taut with rage. You reached out, brushing her arm gently, grounding her before she could rush in recklessly. “Stick to the plan,” you whispered.

She gave you a sharp nod, though her hands still trembled as she tightened her grip on her weapon.

When you rounded the corner, the scene unfolded before you. Owen stood near a tank, his back to you, while Mel crouched beside a table, organizing medical supplies. Neither of them saw you coming.

Ellie didn’t wait. She fired the first shot, the deafening crack of her pistol cutting through the room. Owen dropped instantly, the sound of the bullet echoing against the glass.

Mel screamed, scrambling for cover, but you were faster. You stepped forward, your bow already drawn, and loosed an arrow. It struck her shoulder, pinning her against the table.

“Don’t—don’t do this!” Mel cried, clutching at the arrow as blood pooled beneath her. Ellie ignored her, advancing with her knife drawn. You stayed back, your hands trembling as you lowered your bow. “Ellie,” you murmured, but she didn’t stop.

The room fell silent moments later, the aftermath of violence hanging heavy in the air. Blood stained the floor, the metallic scent making your stomach churn.

Ellie stood over Mel’s lifeless body, her chest heaving. She looked down at her hands, coated in blood, and wiped them on her jeans, her face unreadable.

You turned away, your gaze landing on a storage shelf nearby. Something caught your eye—something that didn’t belong here.

A bow.

Not just any bow. The intricate carvings along the grip made your chest tighten with recognition. It wasn’t yours, but you’d seen it before. It was Yara’s. A friend of yours back in Haven, back home. Your breath caught in your throat, memories flooding your mind.

Ellie noticed your hesitation and turned to see what had caught your attention. “What is it?”

You didn’t answer right away, your fingers brushing against the familiar wood. When you finally turned to her, your voice was thick with emotion.

“Someone was here too, from Haven” you whispered.

Ellie’s brow furrowed. “What?”

You nodded, clutching the bow tightly. "Not a threat, if that's what you're scared of." You showed her the bow. "This was from a girl I knew. She escaped with her... brother. I don't know how they ended up here"

The weight of the bow in your hands was overwhelming, a physical reminder of the life you’d left behind. The scars on your back seemed to itch, a phantom pain tugging at your chest.

Ellie stepped closer, her expression softening. “We should go,” she said gently. “We can’t stay here.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

But you lingered for one moment longer, gripping the bow like it might help you remember your friend. And then, with one final glance at the bloodied aquarium, you followed Ellie into the storm.

taglist!

@vahnilla @antobooh @liasxeatt @rhyrhy

[snowflake194]

I don’t usually post fic snippets here (and not on ao3), but this has been sitting in my drafts ever since the mid season finale and originally was meant to be part of something bigger but I never got around to actually building a plot around it so here you have it.

~~~~~~

“I’ll call you when I land,” Eddie says, takes one last look at Buck and turns towards the glass doors.

And just like that, Buck is left standing outside the terminal.

Not for the first time, mind you. Although he supposes, this time is nothing like the first. That first time, he was naïve enough to believe Abby was coming back for him. That she’d take the vacation she needed, see Europe like she’d always wanted, and then return—to him.

He waited, after all, didn’t he? For months.

But no. This time he isn’t naïve enough to think Eddie is coming back for him. Because this isn’t about Buck, is it? It’s about Christopher. It’s about Eddie’s son and the milestones Eddie can’t afford to miss anymore.

And Buck gets that. He really does.

He supposes this whole thing would’ve been a hell of a lot easier if it weren’t for the unprompted realization that he is, in fact, in love with the guy.

To be fair, nothing about these past few weeks was prompted.

From Eddie’s decision to move back to Texas to Buck only finding out about it that day—when he’d barged into his house uninvited.

Whatever, it’s Eddie’s house—it’s not like he’s ever been a guest there.

But no, there was no discussion. No warning. Just Eddie making up his mind and Buck having to go with the flow, like always. Having to support Eddie’s decision because, of course, he understands.

Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have packed up and moved to El Paso with him if Eddie had asked.

It’s not like Buck could’ve been the one to suggest that, now could he.

Hey, Eddie, I’m in love with you and would rather move half way across the country to be with you and Christopher whom I love as my own, than stay in this city with the job I love and all my friends so if you could just see that and not leave me here with nothing more than a stupid promise to call when you land, that’s be great.

Yeah. No. He’s not doing that.

It’s not until he’s back in his Jeep, pulling out his phone to connect to the media console, that he realizes just how long he’d been standing there, staring at those glass doors.

Maddie had texted.

18:48

Hey, are you on your way?

18:57

You still at the airport? Is everything okay?

19:15 1 missed call

19:20

We are saving you a plate but it’s Jee’s bedtime soon

19:30 2 missed calls

19:36

Call me, Evan.

Fuck.

He’d promised Maddie he’d come for dinner.

Buck glances at the time—7:45 PM—tosses his phone onto the passenger seat with a sigh and rubs a hand over his face, fingers dragging through his hair. There’s no point in going now, not with traffic. Not with how he feels, all hollowed-out and useless.

Whatever.

He’s not really hungry anyway.

[loving-family-poll]

Okay, I’ve been sitting on this for a while and I need to address something that’s been bothering me for days. I’m officially canceling your poll because it is steeped in classism, and I’m honestly shocked more people haven’t picked up on this.

Like, let’s talk about the pairings here. Every single one of them is a direct reflection of class structures, and it’s honestly disgusting.

Tridentaricest is bad enough, they are literally sci fi romcom royals. Their behavior and lust for power is so deeply drenched in capitalistic symbolism that i don’t feel anything further has to be said unless you are st*pid

let’s talk about Elsa and Anna. They’re the definition of royalty, y’all. Their entire existence is built on a hierarchy that’s literally defined by class privilege. The whole "two white princesses with massive wealth and power" thing is exactly what’s wrong with the entire concept of royalty. Like, you’re shipping classism at its core.

Then we have Geralt and Mikey. I love them as artists, but… come on. They’re superstars. They are rich, powerful, and untouchable. And if you look at it critically, that means they’re literally the embodiment of class privilege. Same with the Oasis brothers—they exist in a fantasy world where wealth and influence are used as tools to shape society.

Not to mention that Klaus and Elijah are literally sons of a billionaire (and I mean, how many of us are related to billionaires? Oh right, none of us).

And then there's Amma and Camille—upper middle class white women with all the privileges that come with it. They have access to resources, opportunities, and safety nets that so many of us could only dream of. Not to mention the cultural hegemony they perpetuate as affluent white women navigating the world.

I mean, come on, this whole poll is just one big glaring reminder that classism is still alive and well in fandom culture, and it’s being romantisized to the point where people don’t even see it. Just admit that you are only doing the “knight in shining armor thing” with an incest twist and delete your account.

So, i guess the only correct pairing here is Cane and Abel—the original siblings who existed before classism even had a name. They didn’t benefit from royalty, fame, or inherited wealth—they existed in a world before social structures took hold. They represent the purest form of sibling love and connection, untouched by classism, colonialism, or capitalist structures.

Sorry, but that’s the tea. The rest of this poll is just a hot mess of privilege, and it’s time we start calling that out. You’re probably never going to post this, because you don’t like hearing the truth but just know that WE know it.

1. Ur so funny let's kiss 2. Geralt ❤️ 3. You didn't say anything about samjohn can we vote for samjohn in a Marxist fashion or does their status as monster cops preclude that

[rowan-ashtree]

Keeper of Earth

this is a gift for @riseandfallofsecunit because they drew my OCs (look at them!!!), written about someone in my OC world getting some Elemental magic (explanation of magic system here. i think that's all the context you need)

1.1k words, no CWs (let me know if i missed anything!)

this is my first time posting something set in this world - I'd love to post more if people are interested :)

🌱⚡🌊🔥☀️🌑 | 🌑☀️🔥🌊⚡🌱

You've been guarding the Vessel of Earth for a number of years now.

It's not as cool as you'd originally thought.

Not the Vessel. That thing — a circlet of vines that bloom with gemstones rather than flowers — is extremely cool.

Guarding it is what's boring.

Oh, you know it's an important job. You take the responsibility very seriously. You just thought it'd be more… exciting?

Nevertheless, you do what the Keepers’ Guild asked of you: check on the Vessel and update its History each day, stay mostly isolated, move around often, and grow a garden wherever you live.

The garden doesn't need to be anything special, they'd told you. Just something that shows the Element that you care. So you plant whatever's in season, wherever you happen to be. Currently, it's tomatoes and bell peppers, plus various herbs and flowers.

You're kneeling in the garden now, gently untangling weeds from the soil to be transplanted away from your vegetables. One annoying thing about keeping the core of all nature magic in your toolshed: it feeds all life. It doesn't make growing a garden any less work.

The small toolshed sits nearby to the garden. You've gotten better at not glancing at it every three seconds just to make sure it's still locked, though you learned quickly that the vines growing on the walls and roof need to be checked on and pruned frequently, or else they'll slowly dismantle the shed in their hunt for the magic they can sense within.

It also attracts animals, which you'd been warned about, but not prepared for emotionally. One day, you'd walked outside to see a large wildcat napping by the shed, and you'd made a strangled gasp-scream that had woken the cat. It had stirred, looked at you, then gone back to sleep.

Okay, so it was kind of a cool job.

(Still not very exciting, though. Not in the ways you'd hoped.)

You gather your tools and the small bundle of uprooted plants, and move to the second garden plot, the one where you put the weeds. Many of them are hardy enough that you just sprinkle them across the ground. A few of them, you take the time to re-plant.

Very early on, you learned that the Element of Earth doesn't appreciate needless death. It encourages the natural cycle of things, of life, death, decay, and rebirth, but the weeds in your garden have as much right to live as the vegetables you plant. So you simply relocate them, to show the Element that you care. (And so they don't strangle your basil.)

Standing up again, you wipe your hands on your pants — you gave up on keeping them free of dirt stains a long time ago — and move towards the shed to put away your tools.

When you unlock and open the door, the gentle multicolored glow of the Vessel’s gemstones spills out. You block as much of it as you can with your body and quickly shut the door behind you, even though you know there's no one around. Call it paranoia, but old habits die hard.

As you hang up your tools (yes, the shed houses incredibly powerful magic, but it's still a toolshed), you notice that the light seems greener than usual. You look closer at the Vessel. It hangs on a nail like a celebratory wreath, about the size of a woven flower crown. One of the smaller precious stones, the one that's usually colorless and crystalline, is now a deep, bright green.

Carefully (always carefully, though the Vessel has never harmed you), you reach up to touch the green stone — but before you do, it falls off the vine and into your palm.

You flinch and gasp and close your fist around it. In all the years you've guarded the Vessel, through all the places you've lived, this has never happened before.

You open your hand slowly. The bright green glow is pulsing now. Starting to panic, you think back to what the Guild told you — was there anything about the stones falling out? Have you been doing something wrong this whole time? Oh, stars and smoke, did you somehow manage to break the Vessel?

Trembling, you reach with your free hand to touch the other gemstones, even going so far as to gingerly wiggle one like you would a loose tooth, but they all seem as secure as they've ever been. You try to remember the History, if any previous guardian recorded something similar to this.

You're staring into the gemstone, flashing greener and brighter and faster, when you realize you're spiraling. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, then another, letting out the tension in your body with each exhale. Freaking out won't help anything, as you're well aware, so you try to let go of the panic, then open your eyes to try again.

The gem’s light still pulses on your palm, but you realize something — it's pulsing to the beat of your heart.

Huh.

Well, it is nature magic, and you're definitely part of nature. Is it trying to tell you something?

You take several more deep breaths, feeling your heartbeat slow, and watching as the gem's flashes slow to match.

Panic fades, replaced by curiosity. You try to project that feeling out, unsure of what to do but ready to receive what the Element wants to give.

As soon as that thought crosses your mind, the gem glows brighter, and brighter, still matching your heartbeat — then disappears.

You have a split second to be confused — until you feel something blooming in your heart, your limbs, your mind. For a moment, you're acutely aware of the world around you: the fungi in the shed, the vines surrounding it, the beetles under the grass and the bedrock far below. Most of all, the Vessel, still glowing softly, now missing a gemstone. You've always known the whole world is alive (how could it not be?), but it's more than that. It's gloriously bright, it's overflowing with energy. With all this life around you, it's no wonder the Vessel glows.

Slowly, gently, the awareness fades, but you still feel awash with the beautiful warmth of your Element.

… your Element?

You open your eyes (you aren't sure when you closed them). The dim toolshed looks the same, but you feel different. You look at the Vessel again — note the missing gem, the mild glow, the hardy vines. You reach up, touch the empty socket, and realization blossoms.

The Vessel of Earth has gifted you magic.

It's not your Element, really. It doesn't belong to you (nor does it belong to anyone), but you are a part of it, now.

You realize you're leaning against the wall for support. There's a new, tiny crystal already growing in the Vessel's empty spot. You look down at yourself. You look no different from before, but inside…

Well. Your wish for more excitement seems to have come true.

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

Ok, so:

Aeonid Thiel is the most pratical Ultramarine I have ever encountered in the Black Library. It’s part of the reason why he’s so unconventional. He is also one of the most cool-headed Ultramarines out there. This is a man who rallies the ship’s crew when the Macragge’s Honor is invaded by daemons, and who gets his dying genesire off of Fulgrim’s ship. So I don’t think Guilliman’s death would have crippled him forever and ever. I think he would continue to serve after Guilliman’s death as one of the top Ultramarine heroes for quite some time before dying gloriously in some spectacular battle. Y’know, the usual named Space Marine character deal.

BUT.

At the same time, there’s no way in hell Guilliman’s death wasn’t a gut punch. Okay, that’s true for all of the Ultramarines at the time, I’m sure everyone who remembered him mourned him for the rest of their lives. But Aeonid Thiel didn’t just know Guilliman; he was one of his closest companions. You see that excerpt in my original post? The whole story is like that. Guilliman is so, so fond and friendly to Thiel (notably, he starts calling him Aeonid pretty quickly), and Thiel responds in kind. There’s this playful back and forth going on between them. And remember, back in Unremembered Empire, Guilliman waves “Aeonid Thiel” (actually an Alpha Legion assassin) through security because he’s so eager to see him, explicitly referring to Thiel as his friend. Which means that Thiel didn’t just lose his genesire at Thessala, he lost one of his dearest friends.

On top of all that, there’s this conversation from Dark Imperium. Bear with me here, this is a long excerpt, but I want you to see the whole thing

‘My lord,’ said Thiel. ‘All this showmanship appears childish, but Fulgrim is dangerous. I remember how he was. By entering, you are playing into his hands. We should not indulge him. We should go on in force and slay him.’ ’I go alone,’ said Guilliman firmly... ’He will want to fight you,’ said Thiel. ‘He will,’ agreed Guilliman. ‘He may ambush you,’ said Andos. ‘That is unlikely,’ said Guilliman. ‘He will want to prove he is better by feat of arms, face to face. It is not enough to kill me. He will want to beat me.’ ‘Either way, he will kill you, my lord. Do not do this,’ said Thiel. Guilliman stared back, his expression hidden by the muzzle of his helmet. ‘I must fight him.’ ‘Do you truly believe you can win?’ asked Thiel. ‘I do not know,’ answered Guilliman after a pause. Thiel looked away and sighed. His helm rendered it as a growl. ‘I fear there is more to your desire to face your brother than practicality, my lord.’ ‘What do you mean by that?’ The ship trembled as a heavy hit burst its way inwards, perturbing the unnatural serenity of the craft. ‘Pride doomed your brother,’ said Thiel simply. ‘Pride undoes the mightiest. Do not be proud, my lord.’ ‘Are you not proud, my son?’ ‘I am proud,’ said Thiel. ‘To be an Ultramarine, to have you as my gene-sire, to have fought with you for so long. But I am not proud enough to let it kill me.’ Guilliman smiled. ‘You have not changed, Aeonid. Fear not – I will not let pride doom me. Stand aside but for the moment. Guard my back. If I cannot best Fulgrim alone in combat, come when I call and we shall give him the honourless death he deserves.’ ‘My lord,’ said Thiel, relieved. ‘It will be so,’ added Andos.

And then Guilliman goes and gets himself killed.

How many times do you think Thiel played that conversation over again in his head after Thessala? How many times did he think, “If I had kept pushing, if I had said XYZ, maybe I could have convinced him to stand down. If I had done better, he would still be here today.” Guilliman is solely responsible for the decisions that put him in front of Fulgrim that day, but survivor’s guilt has a funny way of ruining your logic like that. And mental health services for Space Marines is uhhhhhhh kinda lacking. I don’t think Thiel would’ve ever gotten past that trauma.

But again, Thiel is a profoundly practical man. He would keep doing his job, and doing it well, even as he carries this burden of guilt with him. He still has all his accolades and continues to collect more, he’s one of the best Ultramarines of his generation—but he failed at the most important thing in life. His lord and friend was mortally wounded, and the only thing he did was get him off the ship and into stasis. Galaxy’s most okayest job, amirite?

I picture Thiel bottling it up inside, especially as more time passes. He visits the shrine less and less because it hurts too much to see his gensire in stasis. He stops talking about the stuff him did with Guilliman, and eventually gets hostile when asked about it. It’s just too painful. Word starts going around the chapter to never ask Captain Thiel about Lord Guilliman—he gets spicy when pressed. And so people just kinda stop talking about Thiel and Guilliman. Everyone knows he’s a hero, everyone knows he was one of Guilliman’s companions, but the details start to fade from public memory because they’re so rarely discussed. Eventually Thiel dies, is memorialized as the hero he is, and many younger marines are shocked to learn the extent of his involvement with Guilliman. But even that shock fades away over time. The taboo around Thiel and Guilliman is just too strong. So Thiel is primarily remembered for his deeds after Guilliman’s death—but since the post-Heresy era is a lot more peaceful than the Heresy and the Great Crusade, these deeds are less remarkable. Thiel comes off as just another hero in the public memory, rather than the extraordinary person he was. And even this fades with time, until Thiel is mostly forgotten. Once in a while someone discovers his records in Ultramarine archives and goes, “HOLY SHIT!” Maybe fanboys a bit over him, maybe tries to live up to his example, that sort of thing. But it never goes beyond the one person. And finally, the records themselves are damaged or lost, maybe multiple times, until all records of Aeonid Thiel are lost. Maybe there was a memorial to him, but eventually that gets destroyed in one of the Imperium’s never ending wars. 10,000 years is a long time.

And then, millennia after Aeonid Thiel’s death, Roboute Guilliman is revived, and goes looking for the fate of his closest friend. This is what he finds:

Aeonid Thiel, for example – Guilliman could not discern what had happened to him. Back on Macragge, he had discovered the Second Captain’s name on worn honour plaques in a chapel buried deep under the Fortress of Hera. These suggested that Thiel had survived the battle, but Guilliman did not know for how long. He did not know how Thiel had borne the loss of his primarch. Did he rise above it, or was his life one tormented by guilt?

And that’s all he has left of Thiel: a long-forgotten honor plaque.

So like…he fucked Aeonid after that, didn’t he? Like. We all agree that Aeonid was out of his power pants 30 seconds after that delicate fade to black. We can all assume that Guilliman was specifically inspired to perform cataclysmically good head. What I mean is, the work Guilliman’s plans to do involves serving on the back, and the blowing out thereof.

[seased]

behind every hyperfixation there is a secret second hyperfixation

dont ask me about baldurs gate because all im gonna tell you is how desperately im awaiting season 9 episode 1 of ER, where chauvinist dickweed dr romano gets his arm cut off by the tail rotors of a helicopter. and then dies a season later when a helicopter falls on him. why did they make it all helicopters its almost a joke

[lovely-menza]

I went to pink floyd's their mortal remains in buenos aires last tuesday so I feel like sharing some pics I took there (bc I took a lot) :D

[thecrowsart]

He likes cats, after all.

[dietmimo]

Daily life: YHK edition

[riddlerosehearts]

floyd/riddle valentine's day headcanons 💙❤️

(okay, this post is more overly detailed than i originally planned because i ended up writing a whole scenario about what their first valentine's day after they start dating could be like. but i still want to share it, so here it is.)

riddle is somewhat conflicted about valentine's day. on the one hand, he was always a bit of a romantic, and as a kid there were times when he dreamed that someday he'd have a special someone to spend this holiday with. but he's changed since he was a kid, and regardless of how he might or might not feel, this year he happens to have an exam coming up in a few days and thinks that studying for it would be a more practical use of his time.

besides, floyd will also be busy working at the mostro lounge that evening. each year they hold a special valentine's event with discounts for couples, and floyd seems to be very focused on helping jade and azul plan for it. what makes valentine's day so important, anyway, when the one you love should be special to you every day? they can just go on a date whenever they like.

he still wants to try and respect the rules of the holiday, though. he knows from books he's read that it would be wrong of him not to get his boyfriend a gift, and he also knows that it's a popular tradition to make handmade chocolates for your partner on valentine's day.

so he buys some chocolate-making supplies and molds--the molds are shaped like hearts and roses, so they're sure to make floyd think of riddle when he eats them. and he does the best he can, knowing floyd will still love them even if they're not perfectly made.

he also buys a card with a simple yet elegant red and gold design, and makes sure it's blank inside rather than having a cheesy prewritten message, so that he can write his own message thanking floyd for bringing so much excitement and joy into his life.

the card he picks probably looks something like this:

he plans to take the chocolate and the card, along with one white rose and one red rose from heartslabyul's gardens, to floyd in the morning and see if they can plan to spend a day together after the exam.

while on his way there, he starts to feel a little embarrassed and wonder if the roses are too much. he doesn't really care about the holiday (or so he claims, but he sure did spend a lot of time preparing for it) and surely floyd doesn't care beyond exploiting it for business purposes, so this is a bit silly, isn't it?

wrong! for floyd's part, they don't have valentine's day in the coral sea, so he's actually been pretty excited for it--which riddle had guessed, since for the last few days he's been constantly asking riddle for advice on decorations and menu items for mostro lounge's event as well as spending quite a lot of his spare time there, presumably helping prepare things.

what riddle fails to realize is that floyd's excitement is about far more than just making money at the lounge.

so, riddle is standing outside floyd's door and about to knock when floyd suddenly comes rushing out and absolutely lights up upon seeing riddle there.

he doesn't even give riddle a chance to get a word in before tearing the gifts from his hands, popping a rose-shaped chocolate in his mouth, and doing a goofy little laugh as he tells riddle he loves him. riddle hopes floyd doesn't see the blush on his face.

"goldfishieee!" he exclaims. "i got you something too, and i just know you'll love it!!"

he runs back into his dorm room and comes out holding a small, very messily-wrapped box of store-bought white chocolate truffles, a plushie of a pink hedgehog holding a heart, and an envelope containing one of those fancy pop-out valentine's cards--specifically, one with a goofy pun on it. i'm picturing something like these:

riddle opens the card and rolls his eyes at the pun while trying to pretend that he's not smiling fondly at it.

he's about to ask about their plans when floyd leans over and drapes his arms around riddle's shoulders, and then says that he absolutely has to come to the lounge tonight for a very special surprise.

riddle is genuinely shocked at this, but he agrees, somewhat reluctantly because he's supposed to be studying--but also secretly excited at the thought of floyd having planned something just for him. he has to enlist cater's help to find something decent to wear.

floyd grabs riddle by the arm and drags him over to a table within seconds of him getting to the lounge. jade takes their order, they talk and tease each other and laugh together like they always do, and they also have fun chatting with some of their other friends who are sitting nearby with their own dates.

riddle almost forgets that floyd was supposed to have some kind of surprise for him, until floyd suddenly excuses himself and then shows back up a few minutes later with a small heart-shaped cake, covered in strawberries and other elaborate decorations.

it turned out that floyd had baked and decorated this cake for him. riddle felt guilty because he'd already eaten more than he meant to for the day, and especially because this must have taken much more work than the chocolates and roses he'd given floyd.

he tells him as much but then floyd tells him he's being silly before snatching the fork from his hand and going "if you're not going to eat it then i guess i'll have to!"

riddle feels a flash of anger because floyd can't just try to take his food, there are rules against such a thing. he takes the fork back and tries a bite of the cake, reasoning that it would be rude not to. it's strawberry flavored and possibly the best thing he's ever tasted.

when they leave the lounge that evening, they end up going back to heartslabyul together and for some reason floyd all of a sudden decides that they're playing tag and makes riddle have to chase him into the rose garden.

floyd didn't have any extra surprise for him, he just wanted riddle to keep having fun with him for a little while longer.

at the end of the day, riddle finds that he doesn't regret having lost a bit of study time for this, and he makes sure to tell floyd how grateful he is. he has to admit to himself that maybe there is something special about valentine's day after all.

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

so I’ve been trying to think of the best way to talk about Skuld’s fate for a while now and I think I’ve finally got it. My feelings about how she could be handled are a bit complicated (maybe even controversial? lol) but I hope I can make myself clear. This is essentially gonna be the post I point to whenever and if ever I need it later in the future. Thanks in advance if you read this!

If for whatever reason it’s confirmed that Skuld isn’t Subject χ and she gets together with Ephemer in canon (which I don’t believe will actually happen, but who knows), I do genuinely think there’d be something incredibly poetic about both of them leaving behind a legacy together.

Skuld as Subject χ is a super intriguing concept that I want to see get played out in canon, and even outside of that possibility, I would really love to just see her go on her own journey, have her own story where she can grapple with the events of khux in her own ways. But as someone who also happens to love her and Eph’s dynamic, I like to indulge in the possibility of them founding Scala together too.

Believe me when I say that I’m very skeptical of Skuld getting the credit and spotlight she deserves given the track record of how female characters are treated in this series. It would break my heart if Skuld got turned into an accessory or got shafted or worst case scenario, is used only to kickstart the Ephy lineage and nothing more outside of that. She deserves good, solid writing no matter what her fate is, I’m sure we can all agree on that at least.

And then there’s also the question of whether or not Nomura would ever establish a canon romantic relationship, and if he even should do that in the first place. I think it would be great, as long as it’s written in such a way that it doesn’t impede on the other types of relationships he’s already established. It could delve into some interesting new territory that can highlight the themes of kh, and make them even stronger and more profound. But you don’t absolutely need romance in order for that to be accomplished, ya feel?

Do I love Skuld and Eph together? Yes. Do I think they should be together (romantically) in canon? Not necessarily. You can both enjoy a ship AND recognize the nuances involved.

But anyway anywaaaaay, long disclaimers aside, these two characters have been through so much together…they witnessed two apocalypses. They’ve suffered the loss of a dear friend at their hands, along with their other friends as a result of horrible circumstances they had no control over. They stayed side by side as their home collapsed around and on them. But they also laughed together. They looked out for each other, stood up for each other. Encouraged and comforted and teased each other so they would smile.

From the very beginning, to the very end, they had each other over and over again. Clinging to hope with incredible resilience. From party members, to friends, to leaders. They’re both wonderful characters who I have no doubt would support each other throughout the rest of their lives, just as they always have.

I’ll be fine if a romance between them doesn’t become canon, in fact I’ll probably be pretty relieved. But I can’t deny that the idea of the two of them being entwined forever, bonded by the tragedies they’ve been through, yet also by all of their happy times and shared memories, is a beautiful thought to me.

Surviving to see the other side and building everything from the ground up again together, and seeing the legacy that follows their love, is a story worth telling, in my opinion. In the end, if that’s a story left to us fans to tell, that’s more than enough for me. We have so much to work with. Regardless of what Nomura and/or the rest of the writing team choose to do, I don’t need them to be a canon couple to enjoy the profound love and care they have for each other.

TL;DR - Whatever happens with Skuld, I’m down for the ride. As long as she’s present, period, I’m here for it. Just…please for the love of god, let her be written well. I miss her so much and I need all these years of loving her character to pay off

[xskyll]

Page 15, for the second time! Apologies to those that saw the version I posted last night with the typo. My days lately have been busy, so sometimes I feel a bit brain foggy. A couple of people left comments on either here or Twitter and it killed me to delete everything. ;_;

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[seraphic-sibyl]

I should have been born a frog. I should have been born a frog. I should have been born a frog. I should have been born a frog. I should have been born a frog. I should have been born a frog. I should have been

[ghost-proofbaby]

wishing death upon someone for having a kink you don't like is a bit odd i'll admit. a bit whack.

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

honestly it's been really healing being back to actively contributing things and writing out thoughts on tumblr the last week or so, because while twitter tends to be easier for me to write out Thoughts on without getting overwhelmed, the environment in the twitter fandom circles i'm interested in is not only infested with antis but cliqueish in a way that is caustic to the fucking soul if you try to express a thought that's more than three sentences long--a hundred times over if you're autistic in slightly the wrong way--and it's incredibly reassuring to come back to an environment where the very kindest and most inclusive people toward you are not clearly thinking the r-slur the entire time they interact with you lmao